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The Hole in the Pocket.

OT long ago I visited a house, and the chief thing on the centre-table was—what An elegant vase? No. A splendid red picture-book? No. A new game? No. It was a mission-box. "It stands there," said the father of the little family who lived in that sitting-room, "a silent preacher, but preaching always, Deny thyself for Christ's sake.'"

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I examined the box, and found reading on it. On one side were Christ's last words; and last words, you know, are very meaning words: "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." On another side there was this: "Not because I desire a gift, but I desire that fruit may abound to your account." (Phil. iv. 17).

Every Sabbath morning father recounts the goodness of God through the week, the mercies of God to his little flock, the privilege and the blessing of their all having been born in a Christian land; and then, as a testimony of his gratitude, he puts a part of his weekly earnings in the missionbox, to help to give others their share of the blessings so highly prized by them. Mother and all the children follow father's example, and put in their mites.

One day Georgy came into the room where I was reading alone, and he seemed very uneasy and restless. "Want anything, Georgy?" "No," he said, " nothing." He kept putting his hand into his pocket, pulling out something, looking at it, and poking it back again. At last, after a great while, he marched to the table, and there was a clinking in the mission-box. "There you are, and I'm glad of it," said the little boy, speaking aloud to himself.

"What is it, Georgy?" "Oh," said Georgy, "I had a penny piece, and a big orange down at Corson's seems to

keep saying, 'Buy me; eat me; I'm real good tasting.' Now I don't truly want the orange; do I? but the heathen truly want Christ; dont't they?" asked the little boy, looking up with sweet earnestness in his face. "Indeed they do," I said. Well, I thought so," replied he; "so I put my penny piece in the mission-box to day, lest there might be a naughty hole in my pocket before Sunday."

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The naughty holes in the pocket! Oh, I am afraid there are a great many of them, and a great deal of missionary money gets out through them. Georgy's stand, and Georgy's stand alone will save it.

Power of a Tract.

N old vendor of tracts, when visiting a depository at Stroud, related the following fact:-"As I passed through a village in Yorkshire, I asked a poor woman to buy a religious tract. She refused. I turned round and threw one in at the door, and the wind carried it under the table. The man of the house came home, saw it,

took it up, and read the title, 'The Wonderful Adventures of Drunkenness;' he left his dinner, and put it into his pocket. After he got to his work he read it. In the evening his companions missed him at the alehouse; and when they saw him, they inquired where he was on the preceding evening. He said he had been reading a religious tract. On giving this account of himself they all laughed, and said he was going to turn Methodist. His neighbours said, 'John P. was sober last night,' which quite surprised them, as this seldom occurred. But from this time he kept from the public-house, and began to pay his debts. His wife told all who inquired about him that

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the cause of this great change was reading a religious tract, entitled, 'The Wonderful Adventures of Drunkenness,' which a poor man had thrown in at their door. After being away two years, I returned to that neighbourhood again. I stopped at a public-house, about two miles distant from the village before named, and offered my tracts for sale. One of the persons in the room, with a dreadful oath, said, I was one of those Methodists that had made their companion mad. The woman of the house said, 'Do you call him mad? then I wish you were like him, and you would pay the five pounds you owe me; for he has paid me every farthing he owed me, and all in less than two years.' On entering a house, about a mile farther, I was informed that the tract I had thrown, two years before, into a poor man's house, had made him another man. At length I arrived at the village. A woman looked very hard at me, and said, 'Are you not the man who sold me some tracts about two years ago?' I said I was. Then she said, 'You must go with me to the house where you threw the tract in, and I am quite sure the woman will not tell you to go to hell now.' A soon as I entered, the woman informed her I was the old man she so much wished to see. She cried out, 'What! that dear man who threw in the tract?' and, running, she took hold of my hand and said, 'I humbly beg your pardon for what I said; I was in a passion, and very vile and wicked.' She bade me sit down to dinner, and said her husband would be there in a few minutes. As soon as he came in, she told him who I was. He took me very kindly by the hand, and said, Blessed was that hcur when you threw the tract into my house, and thrice blessed is that God who directed you to one so wicked. I was then poor and wretched; spent most of my time in the ale-house; but now, thank God, I have a house of my own, and it is my delight to talk of the goodness of that God whio directed me to the reading of the tract.'”—Jubilee Memorial of Tract Society.

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How God takes care of His Children.

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my
walks across Boston Common a year
ago, I often met a little lame girl, whose
interesting countenance and quiet man-
ner, as she offered her candy for sale,
attracted my attention. Sometimes I
bought a trifle to encourage her, at others,
gave her a penny. She told me that her
friends were very poor, and she tried to

help them all she could. One of her little brothers was also lame; both were obliged to use crutches.

When the cold weather came on, the little girl was missing from her accustomed place, but as soon as the warm breath of returning spring covered the trees with verdure, and the ground with its rich living carpet of green, she returned and offered her small stock of candy to the passers-by as before.

One day in July last, I found the mother with her little girl. She had a careworn, anxious countenance, just one of those we cannot forget; while tottering about, now on this side, then on that, was a baby, who seemed to have just become conscious that it could walk alone. It was rather pretty, and its dress, though poor and worn, was neat and clean. Such little ones always attract me; they remind me of the dear ones whose playful, winning ways once made up much of the happiness of our household, and do still, though their home is now a heavenly one. Taking a penny from my purse I gave it to the baby, and nodding to the mother, who seemed pleased at the notice, I passed on.

Upon reaching home, a half-crown, which had been given to me for a particular use, was missing, Where could it be? I recollected a recent purchase I had made,

and was certain that it was then in my purse. I had opened the purse but once afterwards, when I took from it the penny. Could I have dropped it at that time? I thought not. "Well, wherever it is, I hope it may do sombody some good," thought I, and it passed from my

mind.

Two months later, I found the mother and her little girl at the old place; a small table stood near, on which were temptingly spread out apples, candy, &c. As I approached, the little girl ran out to meet me, and the mother exclaimed, "Oh, dear lady, I bless God that I see you, and thank you for the help that you gave that day in my great

trouble.

"When was it?" said I.

"The day that you gave my baby the penny and halfcrown. I have prayed to the blessed Jesus for you every day since."

"I am very glad that it helped you, but I dropped it,"

said I.

"Yes," she replied, "when you gave it to the baby," seeming not to understand me. "Oh, that was the day of my great want. I can't bear to look to it. My children had nothing to eat, and my oldest girl lay on the floor crying with hunger. That was dreadful, that day of my very great want!" she repeated. "The money kept my poor children from starving, and if it had not been for that, I never could have got this table. I do not sell very much, but we have never been so badly off as then."

"This was the way then," said I to myself," that my half-crown went. God wanted it to supply the need of his poor, suffering ones." I was made the instrument of relieving them, and they had prayed that blessings might descend upon me. But it was no act of mine. It was not my intention to bestow the money upon them; it had been done by another. Could I doubt that it was the hand of a kind, heavenly Father, whose watchful care is extended to

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