"Oh, thou, whose full coffers are still over flowing, Whose home is a palace, whose revenue sure, In the world to which paupers and princes are going,

Beware that thou meet not THE CURSE OF THE FOOR."

PAUL AND A CHURCH

SLEEPER.

Men did sleep even under the thunders of the apostle's eloquence. Let modern sleepers beware, however, about comforting themselves in regard to their own habit by the fact; for that sleeper's slumber well nigh cost him his life. He fell from an upper window and was taken up for dead. About as significant a hint this about the danger of sleeping in church as could well be given in this world.

But if Paul's preaching could not break the young man's slumbers, his own terrible fall did break the thread of Paul's discourse. He had to stop preaching, and look after the waking of one who was well nigh in his last sleep. "His life is in him," said the compassionate preacher, after he had examined the case. It was a marvel and a mercy that it was. It cost men something in those days to sleep in church. "And they brought the young man alive." They were

comforted." Was not he?

That church sleeper had an apostle at hand to heal his wounds. That is more than modern church sleepers can count upon. It is a mercy to have some friend, some wakeful friend nigh, to look out for them when they sink down into a deep sleep. The young man Eutychus found that friend in the preacher under whose preaching he fell asleep. Can modern

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church sleepers count on as warmhearted pity in the preacher, as they compose themselves to sleep, in case of any sad casualty?

THE END.

THINE END IS COME. Fellow sinner! An hour hastens on, every beating pulse brings it nearer, when God will say to each of us-THINE END IS COME. You may, as to years, be young; as to temporal prospects, hopeful; as to worldly joy, favoured with a full share; as to friends, able to number a wide circle-but, amidst these circumstances, all which greatly tend to draw off your attention from such a subject, remember the END is coming. Of what little account would that man think the facts that his road lay over a velvety sward, under a blue and smiling sky, through a breezy and perfumed air, accompanied all the way by strains of soft music, carrying in his pocket the titles to immense fortunes, if, all the journey through, he felt impelled by an unalterable necessity to go on, on, on, toward a dark chasm into whose yawning mouth he must be soon precipitated. You are the traveller who must go on towards the chasm between two worlds

its name is DEATH. One condition only will enable you to look into it without dread, and to enter it without destruction. That one condition is the personal knowledge of CHRIST JESUS, who, from the cold embrace and the gloomy gulf of the "last enemy," redeems his followers. Reader! have you this know. ledge? Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Ebley.

TWO TO SEE.

Why did you not pocket some of those pears?" said one boy to another; "nobody was there to see.' "Yes, there was; I was there to see myself, and I don't mean ever to see myself do such things." I looked at the boy who made this noble answer. He was poorly clad, but he had a noble face; and I thought how there were always two to see your sins, your self and your God; one accuses and the

T. L.

other judges. How then can we ever escape from the consequences of our sins? We have a friend in Jesus Christ. He says, "Come to me; cast your sins at my feet; I have died to save you. Trust in me, and I will plead for you, and befriend you." Will you not prize such a friend, and feel that he is indeed "One above all others?" Jesus is "a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."-Band of Hope.

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THE FALL OF THE

near you.

TREE.

"Father," said a little boy, "I heard you say it was a wonder you were not killed to-day, when the great tree fell Well, father, then perhaps Jesus helped it to fall away from you; for mother always prays for you when you are gone to work. We all pray to gether up stairs before we go to school." "Do you, my boy; do you pray?" "Yes, father, I try to a little; but then I can't pray like mother does; prays for every thing."

she

"Does she, Sammy? You've a good mother, my boy; there are not many children as happy as you are, to be taught to pray too."

"Don't you ever pray for us, papa? My teacher says, if we wish to sing in heaven we must pray on earth. Is that true, papa? Will you sing in heaven with mother, and all of us?"

"I hope so, Sammy; would not you like that I should?"

"Oh, papa, I'm sure I should. Do you pray though ?—eh ?

"I hope, Sammy, your mother will ask God to take care of your father, for fear another great tree should fall near me when I am in the woods."

"But, father, God will hear you as well as mother; won't he?"

Did you

"Yes, Sammy, I hope so. ever hear me pray, my boy?" "No, father; but I should like to though, that I should. '

The father prayed that night.

VISIT TO THE TOMB OF DAVID,

Early one morning, during the feast of Rhamadan, I was called to the parley room to see one of my friends, who rejoices in the name of the great Lawgiver of Israel. This liberalized little sprig of nobility having become rather a frequent visitor, I was at first inclined to excuse myself; but remembering he had lately hinted at the possibility of my gaining an entrance into the Tomb of David, I immediately obeyed the summons, and was soon convinced by his mysterious manner that my pleasing anticipations were not unfounded. The door was closed, and the most profound secrecy enjoined. Then laying his ponderous turban on the divan beside him, doffing his slippers, and crossing his legs, he

ready for an adventure, and being in the same mood, we were not long reaching Turfendah's home, where we found her busily engaged in selecting clothes, suitable for my disguise. A maid was summoned, at whose mercy I was placed, and she forthwith proceeded to dress me

in a robe and trousers of the finest Damascus silk, a girdle of cashmere, and tunic of light blue, embroidered in silver flowers My hands were already dyed with henna, having undergone this process on the occasion of a similar adventure in the Mosque of Omar, and they still retained the deep orange hue, without which my disguise would have been incomplete. My face too was pretty deeply tanned from a residence of several years, under a burning Syrian sun, which was quite an addition to my Turkish appearance. The sheet, veil, and slippers, came in due order, and having secreted my pencil and sketch book, we sallied forth, accompanied by Turfendah's

favourite slave.

The reputed Tomb of David is just outside the Zion Gate, hard by the Conaculum. It is surrounded by an irregular pile of buildings, and surmounted by a dome and minaret. In the interior are some of the most grotesque architectural embellishments imaginable, on the capitals of its ancient pillarsthe remains of the times of the crusaders. Just think-the frightful owl occupying the place of the classic acanthus and the mythic lotus! We passed through several halls and corridors, evidently of the style of the Quixotic era of the crusaders' domination, before reaching the consecrated apartment, whose entrance is guarded by double iron doors. An old Derwish was prostrate before the door on the cold stone floor. Not being privileged as ourselves to enter the sacred precincts, he was content with gazing at the tomb through the iron bars, for it is a rare thing that even a Mussulman ecclesiastic can gain admittance-my companion and her family enjoying this privilege only on account of their near relationship to the curator of the tomb. Our slave was despatched for the key, which she had no difficulty in obtaining, on the plea that her mistress wished to pray on the holy spot. But what was my consternation on seeing another slave return with her! I confess that I

trembled, and was thinking I had better leave my awkward slippers behind in case of retreat, as they would greatly impede my progress, and thereby cause me to lose my head! But after peering under my veil, and asking who I was, she seemed satisfied with the careless reply of Turfendah, that I was a friend of hers from Stamboul, and then invited us up stairs to see the keeper's harem. The invitation was very graciously received by Dahudeiah, the wife of the young Effendi; who is always glad to vary the purgatory of a life with her husband by a visit to this place; for I can testify, from personal observation, that the young Effendi lords it over her in true Oriental style. But Turfendab, thinking it more politic to decline, regretted she was unfit to make a visit just at that time, feeling much exhausted from fasting To our great relief the slave now left, and having dismissed the Derwish, the doors were closed and doubly locked.

The room is small in dimensions, but gorgeously furnished by the Sultan, I am told, who renews the tapestry every few yeare. The tomb is an immense sarcophagus of stone, covered with greenish satin tapestry embroidered with gold. To this a piece of black velvet is attached, with inscriptions from the Koran. Á satin canopy of red, green, blue, and yellow stripes, hangs over the tomb, and tapestry of velvet richly embroidered in silver covers a door in one end of the room, leading to a cave immediately underneath. Silver candlesticks and golden vessels containing rose water, stand in different parts of the room. and a lamp hangs in the window, which is kept constantly burning, and whose wick, though saturated with oil, and I dare say a most nauseous dose, my companion eagerly swalled, muttering a prayer with the usual attitudes of deep humility. After prostrating herself many times, she raised the covering of the tomb, and rapturously kissed it. The ceiling is vaulted, the walls covered with blue porcelain in floral figures, while the floor is of highly polished marble of various colours. Having remained here an hour or more, and completed my sketch, we left in high glee at our success; but much greater was my rejoicing when I found myself at homeonce more out of danger, and out of my awkward costume.

AN APPALLING CONTRAST.

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Rev. Dr. Murray, of Elizabethtown, writes thus of his first visit to the Fulton-street, prayer-meeting:

As I glanced upon the high brick stores in Ann-street, the memories of other days rushed in upon me. Where those brick stores now ise, upwards of thirty years ago there stood some wooden buildings, of very lowly pretensions. In an upper room of one of them, there dwelt an old coloured woman, then widely known as Aunt Betsy, or Sarah

which, I now forget. She was very old, and very feeble, and remarkably pious. And some young men, mostly from the Presbyterian and Methodist churches, held a prayer-meeting in her room on each Sabbath afternoon, as she was too infirm to attend on any of the public means of grace.

While absorbed for a moment in these recollections, I was awakened from my reverie by a familiar voice in fervent exhortation. It was that of one who is now one of the princely merchants of New York, but in his youth he was one of the young men who met for prayer in the room of Aunt Betsy, and his wife was one of the little girls who, as the ravens did to Elijah, carried to her daily food.

One of them rose to eminence as an accomplished writer and editor, and has served his country and the cause of Protestantism with distinction, as а Minister at a foreign Court.

Another of them is an ex-Mayor of the city of New York, whose hand has never been withheld from any work of religion or philanthropy.

Another is the honoured partner of one of the largest publishing houses of the city of his residence.

Another of them has risen to eminence as a merchant, and is a pillar in one of the most important congregations in the British Isles.

Another is a well-known merchant of New York, who has a heart for every good work.

Another is a useful minister in the Western States, whose labours have been eminently blessed in turning many to righteousness.

I was myself among the youngest of the company, and when I was first invited to join the circle in the room of Aunt Betsy, was not a communicant of the church.