in heaven. Her strength was too far spent to speak, but lifting up her hands, she clapped them three times together. For an hour or more she lay in a state of quietude, and then gently breathed her spirit into the hands of her gracious Redeemer.

During her affliction the conflict was sharp; but, sharp as it was, she had strength given her from above to come off as a conqueror, through Him who loved her, and whom she unfeignedly loved. Not the remotest doubt as to her acceptance in the Beloved, not the slightest hint of hesitation ever escaped her lips as to the certainty of her heavenly happiness. When flesh and heart failed her, with a hope undimmed, and a faith unimpaired, she found God the strength of her heart, and He is now her portion for ever. Another harp is heard in heaven!

Reader! if to such a servant of God, with an unclouded hope and unbroken faith, death be a time of severe trial, what must it be to the thoughtless sinner who has lived without God in the world? If, with the promise of eternal life, and the presence of the Redeemer, she felt the bitterness of death, what must be endured by the impenitent transgressor, who, without faith and without hope, enters the dark valley alone, overwhelmed with the fears of an eternal death?

Is there an aged servant of God who, during the week-day, or haply in the afternoon or evening of the Lord's day, shall take up this account to read, and is such an one looking for comfort? Fellow pilgrim through this vale of tears, lift up thy head and heart with joy. Another instance is here given thee of the faithfulness and mercy of thy covenant God, in being a rod and staff in the valley of the shadow of death to her who is gone before thee to a world of glory. Art thou poor? So was she. Art thou well stricken in years? She was much older than thou. Art thou afflicted? Her afflictions were as heavy as thine; yet poor, and aged, and afflicted as she was, she was strengthened to meet her last enemy without fear, and is now entered into the joy of her Lord.

Take courage, then, neither thy poverty, thy age, nor thy afflictions, neither thy sorrows, nor thy sins, shall separate thee from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus thy Lord.

THE TRUMPERY BAG.

THERE are many things in the world that appear too bad to keep, and too good to throw away. You must know, that I am very fond, in a leisure moment, of sketching with my pen on paper, any thing that comes into my head. At one time it is a man; at another, a house; sometimes it is a tree, and sometimes a tiger. It amuses me, it relieves my mind, it is like unstringing the bow, and thereby rendering it the more serviceable when strung again. Now, these sketches, or etchings, or whatever they may be called, are often of the character just spoken of— too bad to set any value on them, and too good to destroy. I have therefore set up what I call a trumpery bag," and into this bag I put such things as I have described.

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You may smile at the thought of Old Humphrey being employed in so trifling an occupation as that of scrawling and scratching with his pen on paper; but, remember, this is only done in his

seasons of leisure, when he is weary with more important pursuits, and needs a change of employThere are worse occupations in idle hours

ment.

than sketching with a pen.

It is astonishing how much a little, added to a little, for a length of time, will amount to. The bag at one time contained but very little, but it is now full; so full, that there is a difficulty in putting any more into it. There are rude sketches of heads, flowers, ships, and wild beasts; old houses, prisons, birds, coaches, and outlines of such odd singular characters as I may have met in the course of the day; with pillars of different orders of architecture, household furniture, and a hundred nondescript kinds of things, so that the bag is now a very pleasant source of amusement to those who are fond of such things.

But it is not on account of what the bag contains, nor of the amusement it may supply, that I speak of it. No; it is to set in a clear light a lesson that I want to impress on your minds.

The lesson is this-that if by adding little to little, in course of time, such a great heap of trumpery has been obtained, by adding little to little of better things, a great deal of what is valuable may be obtained. Now, if you will act upon this principle, depend upon it, you will be a great gainer.

There is but little to be got

in heaping up waste paper, but much may be got in heaping up treasures worth preserving.

Where was it that I read of two little girls in South America, who went out one morning, each with a little basket on her arm? The one amused herself with picking up pretty little stones, but the other was more particular; she put into her basket nothing but diamonds, and of course had but few. When they returned home, the one had a full basket, but then it was only a basket full of trumpery, not worth a tenth part so much as the smallest diamond the other had obtained. Grown-up people may learn something from these children. If I had acted like the prudent little South American, I should now have something in my bag worth looking at, instead of a heap of things that I could put behind the fire without grieving after them.

You may not be fond of sketching with your pen, but that does not matter; whatever you do, do it well, and then it will not be trumpery. You may never live in South America; never mind that, for there are diamonds to be had here as well as there.

Some people add unto the number of their books by little and little, until the heap is a great one; but if you give yourself the trouble to examine them, they are of a bad quality, they are good