was come,' answered Ned, looking round with a solemn and almost sorrowful expression upon his face. Peter, my lad, some way it makes me feel sad-like, nights like this, to think it's all on the outside only.'

The boy was silent for a few minutes, half ashamed of looking into Ned's grave face, while his own grew more and more thoughtful.

'Peter,' continued Ned, 'I always feel more sinful such evenings, and Sunday evenings too, than on work-a-days, when there's work and stories about, and one has to be up and stirring. I feel somehow all out of my place. I suppose it's true what the Captain said. If we could be caught up into the Lord's heaven, and see all the goodness and peace there, we should be miserable. May be like a fish if we took it out of the water, and laid it on the softest grass we could find. What a sinful man I should feel! and how sad I should be there! Why, I'm scarcely fit for His kingdom here; and so days like these make me more sorrowful than stormy days.'

'I like storms best,' said Peter, after a pause.

Ay, ay, lad,' answered Ned, 'it's because we're not fit for the calm yet. Storms seem more like us, and our brawls, and quarrels, and pride, and our love of strength. There'll be none in the Lord's kingdom when it comes; and we shall be full of peace ourselves, like the sea when Jesus said, "Peace, be still," and there was a great calm. say again, Peter, nights like this I feel that I am a sinful man.'

I

'Ned,' asked Peter, in a quiet voice, 'what is the kingdom ?'

'I hardly know,' he answered; 'I am no scholar like Captain Seaforth. But he told us there were only two kingdoms in the world, and we must belong to one or other. There's the prince of this world, that is, the devil; and there's the Prince of Peace, our Lord Jesus Christ, and we must be subject to one of them. He talked to us about our Father in heaven being the King. Yes, in heaven God is the King; but upon earth His Son

Jesus Christ, who was made a man like us, is to be our King; so that it is the kingdom of both our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. And it must go on and conquer till the devil and all his works are destroyed. The Captain gave us a verse to think of: "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me on my throne." Think of that, Peter !-sitting down with Jesus on His throne in the kingdom of God!'

'I should like to belong to that kingdom,' said Peter, thoughtfully.

'Oh! but we must be like the King there,' continued Ned; 'we must be like the Lord Jesus. May be we should have said we couldn't be like God in heaven, so He sent His Son to be like us first. His life was just the same as ours. He used to go out nights in the fishingboats; and storms would come on, and He'd be on the deck, with the waves dashing over Him. He knows just what it is to be cold, and wet, and hungry, and disheartened, and for the fish to fail. Many a time He's seen the net hauled in and no fish in it. So, when we're out seeking for signs of herring, I think how the Lord Jesus would have borne it all with patience and hope, and just quietly waited, only, ready to work with a will when the right moment came. That is our King, Peter, -the King of the poor fisherman. Thee try to be like Him, and He'll take thee into His kingdom.'

While they had been speaking, a man might have been seen unloosing a boat which had been lying at anchor in front of the nearest cabin. Now a shrill halloa caused them to turn round, and Peter's face grew overcast; but he looked down earnestly into his companion's eyes as he sprang to his feet, and then he lifted up his hard, brown, boyish hand toward the heaven above him. 'He shall be my King!' he said; and not staying to utter another word, bounded along the shore towards the boat. -Fishers of Derby Haven.

JOU should have seen little Jamie Wilson, as he ran down the slope which led from his father's house to the high road, on a cold wintry day. Jamie's great-coat was tightly buttoned across him; a scarlet comforter, knitted by the hands of his fond mother, was rolled twice round his neck; and with his warm muftees and furtrimmed cap, he might well set the weather at defiance.

But the truth was, Jamie was not thinking one bit about either cold or heat, rain or sun, just then. An air of importance in all his actions and looks, told that he was bent on some business which he, at least, deemed of consequence.

The stick he carried in his hand was an old one of his father's, and so much too large for the little boy that it made him look quite ridiculous.

'Where are you going to-day, Jamie ?' asked a farm lad, who passed him just as he was going through the opening which led to the high road.

Generally Jamie would have stopped and had a talk with Joe; but now, hurrying on, he only gave him a friendly nod, saying, 'I'm off to find the needy that want a friend: "A friend in need is a friend indeed." Father says so; I have no time to stop to-day, Joe.'

The lad laughed to himself, as he looked after the child, so evidently bent on some grand exploit.

'He's a queer wee chap, yon,' he said (speaking his thoughts aloud); 'but a good one, too; never a kinder heart in all the country side. 'Twas only last harvest time, when my mother was took ill wi' the fever, that Jamie ran near two miles to get a doctor to see her, and never a word o' thanks would he take. But I wonder what he's after now-something good, I dinna doubt, or he'd not be his father's son, nor his mother's either, I'm thinking;' with which satisfactory conclusion Joe shouldered his spade, and whistled softly as he set off to work.

In the meantime, little Jamie was hurrying along the road which led to the village, visionary ideas of helping the needy flitting through his brain, though in what form he was to do so seemed uncertain. One moment he figured himself a Jack the Giant-Killer, hasting to the relief of some imprisoned captives; then again, as St. George, determined to free the country from the fearful scourge of a devouring dragon, or perish in the attempt. Only two or three things puzzled him a little there was

no castle in the neighbourhood, where captive ladies could be kept, and no giants nor dragons either that he knew of. Still, father had said, 'Of course, Jamie, you can be a friend in need to some one, if you try.'

Now I must tell you that what put this desire into Jamie's head, was a conversation which he had heard at the breakfast-table that morning. Jamie's father was a farmer, and bore a high character in the neighbourhood where he resided; but the year we write of was the disastrous one of the cattle plague, and Farmer Wilson's losses had been very heavy. True, his landlord, like many others, had acted kindly to him, in lessening for that year a part of the rent; but, notwithstanding that the plague had now passed, and the farmer was looking about him with the intent of again purchasing stock, he found himself far short of ready money. He was turning over in his mind, now one plan, now another, to obtain the needed sum, when, most unexpectedly, he received a letter from a cousin, who carried on a flourishing business as a stationer in an English town, saying, that, after the loss he had sustained, it had just occurred to him that he might be in want of ready cash, and he therefore begged his acceptance of a couple of hundred pounds, only making one condition, and that was, that he was to receive no thanks, as he was sure he was only doing what he (Wilson) would have done had he been in his place.

When Farmer Wilson finished the letter, he handed it to his wife, saying, as he did so, 'That's what I call a downright kind turn, wifie. A friend in need is a friend indeed."

'You may well say that, John,' said Mrs. Wilson, after she had also read the letter. 'It's a kind, thoughtful deed in your cousin ; coming just at this time, too, makes it doubly welcome. I'm sure it was the Lord put it into his heart. "Every good gift cometh from above;" and, you remember, 'twas only yesterday you were saying that you were sure the heavenly Father would help us in our