dishonest gains beneath the folds of it, we cannot wonder that his heart remains unwarmed. There is no good thing which cannot be abused; and the blame of abusing it rests not with the thing, but with the person. The wrong love of has turned some money men into misers, and some into thieves; but does that make money a bad thing? There are wicked authors in the world; but is that a reason why all books should be hated and despised? No, surely not. Neither should religion be held as a thing of nought, because of hypocrisy or weaknesses in those who are called Christians.

I write all this, because I know the very mistake I made is no uncommon one, and that religion has often been blamed when pious people have been known to give away, for public charities, sums which ought to have paid their tradesmen's bills. But whoever acts in this way, it is a mistake, to say the least of it. Most assuredly it is a thing which God's holy book does not sanction. He "will have MERCY rather than sacrifice," where He cannot have both. Just as Miss Charlotte told me in my young days that " God knows when we ought, and when we ought not to be on our knees in prayer," so it is also true that He knows exactly when we ought, and when we ought not to be pouring money into His treasury. Duties can never clash; never! It is well to bear that in mind. If two things

seem like claims upon us, there is always one that is the greater; and that one is always the present duty; in which case, of course, the other is not our duty for the time being. Saul was once bid to wait for Samuel; but the prophet delayed to come, and the king grew weary of waiting. When he was blamed for his impatience, Saul pretended that he had thought it his duty to offer a sacrifice to God. But in this he was wrong; his only duty was to wait as he had been commanded. The message, therefore, came to him, "Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt-offerings and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of the Lord? behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.' I had been acting like that wicked king of Israel.

I see now that I had been like the people in Isaiah's time who "sought God daily, and delighted to know God's ways," yet were "HIDING themselves FROM THEIR OWN FLESH." I had been like the Pharisees, in our Lord's time, who "tithed mint, anise, and cummin, and rue, and all manner of herbs;" but "omitted the WEIGHTIER matters of the law."

The more I have thought over all this, the more I have come to see how the different ways of spending our money may be made to agree together. It is plain that we must be just to God, just to our neighbours, and just to ourselves, before we have any right to be

generous. First, we must put by God's portion, because "He who is the First ought to have the first." Secondly, we must be just to our neighbours, by paying our debts,-debts of business, if we have any bills that are owing, —and debts of gratitude, if we are bound to help parents or friends who have been kind to us, and who need our kindness in return. Thirdly, we must be just to ourselves, keeping up a respectable appearance now, and laying by something toward the uncertain future.

If we find (which, I suppose, will but seldom happen) that we cannot be just to our fellowcreatures, and just to ourselves, and yet give our whole tithe to God, we surely ought then to lessen the sum we intended for His cause. He accepts not " ROBBERY for a burnt-offering;" and He himself bids us "provide things honest in the sight of all men." Things "honest," they must be, though; not things finer, or dearer, or more in number than need be. But, if we find (as most young people often will) that, after having been just to God, just to our neighbour, and just to ourselves, there remains something over, then it is that we may afford to give largely. And when we can rightly afford more than a tenth, God will expect us to give more.

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CHAPTER XI.

THE WAGES OF SIN.

I SHOULD be sorry if I had been getting prosy, dull, or heavy, in my way of writing. But I have been upon passages in my life that it makes me sad to think of; and when people are sad, they may well be sober. Patience, then, just for a little longer! One more confession; one wild storm of sorrow; one hard struggle; and then the calm bright quiet evening of my days!

As to my comfort in the family I lived with, all was smooth-water-sailing. A kind and generous master,-an even-tempered and thoughtful mistress,-the children lively but easy to manage--an obedient active young nursery-maid under me,-with such as these, I was well off. My duties, too, were very light. It was a quiet and a pleasant path along which my feet were treading.

But a fearful tempest suddenly broke upon me, in the snatching away of my one heart's treasure. It was in May, 1844, that I heard of his death. Three times I had seen him during the nine years since he went away to be a cabin-boy. He had become a thorough sailor.

What sights he had seen, and what strange parts he had been in! How much he always had to tell of sea and land, of fishes and birds, of winds and waves, of clouds and calms, of rudder and sails, of captain and mate, of leaks and pumps, and I know not what beside. It would not have been human nature, if Jack had been without faults; and his were just those which are too common with sailors. As for his earnings, they were gone almost as soon as ever he set his foot on shore. Call enough there was on my purse the times he was here; but I never begrudged anything for him. The second time he came over I gave him a Bible; but I saw, when he was gone, that he had left it behind. When he came again, however, he asked for it, and said he would have it with him next voyage; for they had brought a Missionary home, who had held services on board ship, and had been talking to him about his neglect of God, and about his bad ways, swearing, and drinking, and the like; so he meant to give them all up, and take to reading God's book. I hope he did this; and I hope he found Christ the Saviour, and so found the way to heaven. It was at a moment's notice he was called away;-washed overboard, with the sea running so high that there was no saving him. If he is in glory, as I trust he is—for his Bible, which was sent me, bears marks of use; aye, and pencil-marks, too, that look as if he thought of what he