The Miscellany. FRUITS OF KINDNESS. MANY years ago a certain minister in the United States of America was going one Sunday morning from his house to his school-room. He walked through a number of back streets, and as he turned a corner, he saw assembled around a pump a party of little boys who were playing at marbles. On seeing him approaching, they began to pick up their marbles and run away as fast as they could. One little fellow, not having seen him as soon as the rest, could not accomplish this so soon; and before he had succeeded in gathering up his marbles, the minister had closed upon him, and placed his hand upon his shoulder. There they were, face to face, the minister of God and the poor little ragged boy who had been caught in the act of playing at marbles on Sunday morning. And how did the minister deal with the boy? for that is what I want you to observe. He might have said to the boy, "What are you doing here? You are breaking the Sabbath; don't you deserve to be punished for thus breaking the command of God?" But he did nothing of the kind. He simply said, “Have you found all your marbles ?" "No," said the little boy, "I have not." "Then," said the minister, "I will help you to find them;" whereupon he knelt down and helped to look for the marbles, and as he did so he remarked, "I liked to play at marbles when a little boy very much, and I think I could beat you; but," added he, "I never played marbles on Sunday." The little boy's attention was arrested. He liked his friend's face, and began to wonder who he was. Then the minister said, "I am going to a place where I think you would like to be-will you come with me?" Said the boy, "Where do you live?" "Why, I live at such and such and such a place," was the reply. "Why, 66 that is the minister's house!" exclaimed the boy, as if he did not suppose that a kind man and the minister of the Gospel could be the same person. "Why," said the man, I am the minister myself, and if you will come with me, I think I can do you some good." Said the boy, "My hands are dirty; I cannot go." Said the minister, "Here is a pump-why not wash?" Said the boy, "I am so little that I can't wash and pump at the same time." Said the minister, "If you'll wash, I'll pump." He at once set to work, and pumped and pumped, and pumped; and as he pumped, the little boy washed his hands and his face till they were quite clean. Said the boy, "My hands are wringing wet, and I don't know how to dry them." The minister pulled out of his pocket a clean pocket handkerchief, offered it to the boy. Said the little boy, "but it is clean." "Yes," was the reply, but it was made to be dirtied." The little boy dried his hands and face with the handkerchief, and then accompanied the minister to the door of the Sunday school. 66 and Twenty years afterward, the minister was walking in the street of one of the large cities in America, when a tall gentleman tapped him on the shoulder, and looking into his face, said, "You don't remember me?" "No," said the minister, "I don't." "Do you remember, twenty years ago, finding a little boy playing marbles round a pump? Do you remember that boy's being too dirty to go to school, and your pumping for him, and speaking kindly to him, and taking him to school?" "O," said the minister, "I do remember." "Sir," said the gentleman, "I was that boy. I rose in business, and became a leading man. I have attained a good position in society; and on seeing you to-day in the street, I felt bound to come to you, and tell you that it is to your kindness, and wisdom, and Christian discretionto your having dealt with me lovingly, gently and kindly, at the same time that you dealt with me aggressively, that I owe, under God, all that I have attained, and all that I am at the present day."-J. C. Ryle. FINGER-MARKS. A MASON was employed to thin whiten the walls of a chamber. The fluid used was colourless till dried. Being alone in the room, he opened a drawer, examined a pocket-book, and handled the papers, but finding no money, placed all things as they were, forgetting that twelve hours drying would show the marks of his wet fingers. But these tell-tale fingermarks, which he little thought any one would ever see, exposed his guilt. Children, beware of evil thoughts and evil deeds. They have all finger-marks which will be revealed at some time. If you disobey your parents, or tell a false hood, or take what is not your own, you make sad finger-marks on your character. It betrays those who engage in it by the marks it makes on them. The marks may be almost, if not quite, colourless at first. But even they should not be seen during any of our days on earthwhich is not at all likely-yet there is a day coming in which all fingermarks or sin-stains on the character will be made manifest. Never suppose that you can do what is wrong without having a stain upon your character. It is impossible. If you injure another, you, by that very deed, injure your ownself. If you disregard the law of God, the injury is your own. Ever bear it in mind, children, that every sin you commit leaves a sure mark upon yourselves. Your character should be a sure coating of pure truth. Let truthfulness ever be made manifest. Beware of sin, "and be sure your sin will find you out;" for it makes finger-marks which, even should they not be seen by those around you on earth, will yet be seen to your condemnation at the bar of God. MY NEW BIBLE. AN aged convert from heathenism, a native of one of the Hervey Islands, some years ago received as a present a copy of the Bible. A few pages or chapters only had been given him before this, and he was greatly pleased in becoming the owner of the volume. After receiving it, he said, "My brethren and sisters, this is my resolve: the dust shall never cover my new Bible; the moth shall never eat it; the mildew shall not rot it. My light! my joy!" Dear children, is not this a good resolution for you to make? Among the gifts bestowed by kind friends, every one of you has, I suppose, a Bible. Once it was your new Bible," and it cannot be very old now. It would be a sad sight to see the dust gathering upon it day by day, and moths making it their home, as it lay unnoticed in some corner of your shelf. Do you every day read some part of it, keeping in your mind that it is God's book? How sweet thus to become acquainted with Jesus, the children's friend. And then I am sure it will not be long before you too can say of that blessed book, "My light! my joy." A GOOD PRAYER. A little African was one day heard to pray thus: "Lord Jesus, my heart bad too much, Me want to love you, me want to serve you, but my bad heart will not let me. Lord Jesus, me can't make me good. Take away this bad heart. O Lord Jesus, give me new heart! O Lord Jesus, me sin every day. Pardon my sin! O Lord Jesus, let me sin no more!" Youth and Childhood. PROVIDENCE PROSPERS HONESTY. A POOR boy, about ten years of age, Weeping bitterly, the boy glided toward the door, and at that moment Herr Ritcher entered. "What is the matter here?" he asked, turning toward the bookkeeper. A worthless beggar-boy," was the man's answer, and he scarcely looked up from his work. In the meanwhile Herr Ritcher glanced toward the boy, and remarked that, when close to the door, he picked up something from the ground. "Ha! my little lad, what is that you picked up?" he cried. The weeping boy turned and showed him a needle. "And what will you do with it ?" asked the other. "My jacket has holes in it," was the answer. "I will sow up the big ones." Herr Ritcher was pleased with the reply, and still more with the boy's innocent, handsome face. "But are you not ashamed," he said, in a kind though serious tone, "you, so young and hearty, to beg? Can you not work?" Ah, my dear Sir," replied the boy, "I do not know how, and I am too little yet to thrash or fell wood. My father died three weeks ago, and my poor mother and little brothers have eaten nothing these two days. Then I ran out in anguish, and begged for alms. But, alas! a single peasant only gave me yesterday a piece of bread. Since then I have not eaten a morsel!" It is quite customary for beggars by trade to contrive tales like this, and thus harden many a heart against the claims of genuine want. But this time the merchant trusted the boy's honest face. He thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a piece of money, and said, "There is half a dollar. Go to the baker's, and with half the money buy bread for yourself, your mother, and brothers; but bring the other half to me." The boy took the money and ran joyfully away. Well," said the surly bookkeeper, "he will laugh in his sleeve and never come back again.' "Who knows?" replied Herr Ritcher; and as he spoke he beheld the boy returning, running quickly, with a large lot of black bread in one hand and some money in the other. "There, good Sir," he cried, almost breathless, "there is the rest of the money." Then, being very hungry, he begged at once for a knife to cut off a piece of the bread. The bookkeeper reached him in silence his pocket-knife. The lad cut off a slice in great haste, and was about to bite upon it. But suddenly he bethought himself, laid the bread aside, and folding his hands, rehearsed a silent prayer. Then he fell to his meal with a hearty appetite. The merchant was moved by the boy's unaffected piety. He inquired after his family at home, and learned that his father had lived in a village about four miles from Dantzic, where he owned a small house and farm. But his house had been burned to the ground, and much sickness in his family had compelled him to sell his farm. He had then hired himself out to a rich neighbour; but before three weeks were at an end he died, broken down by grief and excessive toil. And now his mother, whom sorrow had thrown upon a bed of sickness, was, with her four children, suffering the bitterest poverty. He, the eldest, had resolved to seek assistance, and had gone at first from village to village, then had struck into the high road, and at last, having begged everywhere in vain, had come to Dantzic. The merchant's heart was touched. He had but one child, and the boy appeared to him as a draft at sight which Providence had drawn on him as a test of his gratitude. "Listen, my son," he began; "have you then really a wish to learn?" "Oh, yes, I have, indeed!" cried the boy. "I have read the catechism already, and I should know a good deal more, but at home I had always my little brother to carry, for my mother was sick in bed." Herr Ritcher suddenly formed his resolution. "Well, then," he said, "as you are good, and honest, and industrious, I will take good care of you. You shall learn, have meat and drink and clothing, and in time earn something more. Then you can support your mother and brothers also." The boy's eyes flashed with joy; but in a moment he cast them to the ground again, and said sadly, "My mother all this while has nothing to eat." At this instant, as if sent by Providence, an inhabitant of the boy's native village entered Herr Ritcher's house. The man confirmed the lad's story, and willingly consented to carry the mother tidings of her son Gottlieb, and food and a small sum of money from the merchant. At the same time. Herr Ritcher directed his book-keeper to write a letter to the pastor of the village, commending the widow to his care, with an additional sum for the poor family, and promising future assistance. As soon as this was done, Herr Ritcher at once furnished the boy with decent clothes, and at noon led him to his wife, whom he accurately informed of little Gottlieb's story and of the plan he had formed for him. The good woman readily pro. mised her best assistance in the latter, and she faithfully kept her word. During the next four years, Gottlieb attended the schools of the great commercial city; then his faithful foster-father took him into his counting-room, in order to educate him for business. Here as well as there, at the writing-desk as on the school bench, the ripening youth distinguished himself, not only by his natural capacity, but by the faithful industry with which he exercised it. With all this, his heart retained its native innocence. Of his weekly allowance, he sent the half regularly to his mother until she died, after having survived two of his brothers. She had passed the last years of her life, not in wealth, it is true, but, by the aid of the noble Ritcher and of her faithful son, in a condition above want. After the death of his beloved mother, there was no dear friend left to Gottlieb in the world except his benefactor. Out of love for him he became an active, zealous merchant. He began by applying the superfluity of his allowance, which he could now dispose of at his pleasure, to a trade in Hamburg quills. When he had gained about a hundred and twenty dollars, it happened that he found in his native village a considerable quantity of hemp and flax, which was very good and still to be had at a reasonable price. He asked his foster-father to advance him two hundred dollars, which the latter did with great readiness. And the business prospered so well that, in the third year of his clerkship, Gottlieb had already acquired the sum of five hundred dollars. Without giving up his trade in flax he now trafficked also in linen goods, and the two combined made him, in a couple of years, about a thousand dollars richer. This happened during the customary five years of clerkship. At the end of this period, Gottlieb continued to serve his benefactor five years more, with industry, skill, and fidelity; then he took the place of the book-keeper, who died about this time, and three years afterward he was taken by Herr Ritcher as a partner into his business, with a third part of the profits. But it was not God's will that this pleasant partnership should be of long duration. An insidious disease cast Herr Ritcher upon a bed of sickness, and kept him for two years confined to his couch. All that love and gratitude could suggest Gottlieb now did to repay his benefactor's kindness. Redoubling his exertions, he became the soul of the whole business, and still he watched long nights at the old man's bedside, with his grieving wife, until, in the sixtyfifth year of his age, Herr Ritcher closed his eyes in death. Before his decease he placed the hand of his only daughter, a sweet girl of two-and-twenty, in that of his beloved foster-son. He had looked upon them both as his children. They understood him; they loved each other, and in silence, yet affectionately and earnestly, they solemnized their betrothal at the bedside of their dying father. In the year 1828, ten years after Herr Ritcher's death, the house of Gottlieb Bern, late Samuel Ritcher, was one of the most respectable in all Dantzic. It owned three large ships, employed in navigating the Baltic and North, and the care of Providence seemed to watch over the interests of their worthy owner-for worthy he remained in his prosperity. He honoured his mother-in-law like a son, and cherished her declining age with the tenderest affection, until, in her two-and-seventieth year, she died in his arms. As his own marriage proved childless, he took the eldest son of each of his two remaining brothers, now substantial farmers, into his house, and destined them to be his heirs. But in order to confirm them in their humility, he often showed them the needle which had proved such a source of blessing to him, and bequeathed it as a perpetual legacy to the eldest son in the family. It is but a few years since this child of poverty, of honesty, industry, and of misfortune, passed in peace from this world. "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace," (Psalm xxxvii.) NO PAINS, NO GAINS. A STORY OF AN ENGLISH BOY. A LITTLE boy, named Samuel, was seen one day to pick up an old horse-shoe in the road. What did he do with it? He sold it as old iron for a penny. It was the first penny he ever had to call his own. This penny was saved till it should be wanted. The next penny little Samuel had was not found, but got by hard work. "If you will move away the rubbish from my door," said a man, "I will give you a penny." To work the boy went, and soon got his reward. "Now," said the man, "if you show me this penny in a fortnight, I will give you another. But first let me put a mark upon it that I may know it again." He knew that boys liked to spend their money, and he had a mind to try Samuel in this way. "There is the penny, Sir," cried Samuel, when the fortnight had passed away. "That is right," said the man; "you shall have another, for you know how to keep as well as to earn.' Samuel had now threepence; and with his first money he bought a hymn-book. If a penny is worth having, it is worth the trouble of earning. "No gains without pains." So thought Samuel, or at least he acted upon this thought. All boys do not so think and act. The parents of Samuel were in a humble condition, and the little boy had to go out at an early age to work for his living. But one morning, before he left home, as he passed his mother's room, he heard her voice praying. She was calling upon God to bless her son Samuel. said he, "if my mother prays so that I may have a new heart, I ought to "Oh," |