Andy was quite calm and contented after the will was drawn out. He sank rapidly, but suffered no pain. One day Mr Townsend found him lying with closed eyes, the scanty tears of age stealing slowly from under his eyelids, and a faint smile on his lips. He did not look up until his friend was standing beside the bed.

'I trust you are not suffering to-day, Andy?'

'No, sir, no! I am very happy. I was meditating on the Lord's goodness to me all my life long. Every thing that has happened to me was for good; my good father and mother and all they taught me. Mary Fleming's love—ay, and her death too. He took of me, prospering me the years I was away, and bringing me home to end my days.

The care

All about

little David, and having you for my friend. I have been going over these things in my own mind. Oh, Mr Townsend, I was not worthy of the least of all His mercies !' 'There's the verse of a hymn says just

what I feel.'

He took a hymn-book from beneath the pillow, and handed it to Mr Townsend, pointing out one particular

verse.

'With mercy and with judgment, my web of time He wove,
And aye the night of sorrow was lustered with His love.
I'll bless the hand that guided, I'll bless the heart that plann'd,
When safe where glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.'

'Ay, sir, I'll bless my Saviour there, indeed; but I was just trying to praise Him a little here as well.'

Soon after this Andy began the heavenly praises. He was deeply regretted in Knockbarra. Even those among the villagers who had been envious and jealous, and complained of him for showing what they considered too much kindness to their neighbours, most sincerely missed and lamented him when he was gone.

After the funeral, Mr Townsend had the will read aloud to the assembled village. He says he shall never

forget the scene.

The task of carrying it out still rests with him, and will do so, in all human probability, for many years to

come.

Andy's money has already benefited hundreds, although but a few years have gone by since the will came into operation. It causes many heartburnings, but at the same time effects a large amount of real good. And, after all, what earthly scheme ever is quite unmixed with alloy ?

Mr Townsend has much trouble in distributing the charity so as to satisfy all his parishioners. It is thankless toil, yet he is not weary of it. The mention of 'old Andy's money' still calls forth all his enthusiasm. I wish I could have told you the story in the manner he told it me a few Sundays ago, while we stood beside Andy's grave.

THE SWAN AND THE RAVEN.

OU have read the fable of the raven who admired the whiteness of the swan's feathers, and thought it was because she lived so much in the water. He therefore forsook the field where he was accustomed to get his food, and betook himself to the river, where he bathed,

and trimmed his feathers, and looked at himself from day to day. But not a single white feather appeared. Worse than this, the silly raven could not live on swan's food. His neck was too short to dive for it. So he starved to death in his efforts to beautify himself. A change of place cannot change our nature.

HERE was once a Husbandman who purchased a field, that He might plough it, and sow it with seed, and reap the crops in harvest. For that field He paid a very high price. It had been forfeited by law; and when the Husbandman asked how much it would take to redeem it? He was told that no amount of silver or gold would suffice. But as He was very desirous to obtain possession of it, He consented to pay a pearl of great price, which He esteemed as the most valuable of all His treasures. The field then became His own,

for He said, 'My vineyard, which is mine, is before me.'

Well, having obtained possession of the field, the first thing He did was to fence it in. It had been quite open and exposed before; and the Husbandman knew that if it remained exposed, His enemies would trample it down, and carry away His crops. So, to make all secure, He built a strong wall around it; for He said, 'Salvation will I appoint for walls and bulwarks thereof.'

The next thing which He set about doing was to bring it into a state of fertility. It had been very barren previously. It had brought forth briers and thorns, but no good fruit; and the Husbandman wished to make it capable of bearing good fruit, and capable also of yielding abundant crops. So, what did He do? He rooted out the briers and thorns, lest they should choke the good seed; He turned it up with a plough, that the hard-bound earth might be loosened; and He then enriched it with a plentiful supply of water and manure. And having done all that, He said again, 'What could have been done more for my vineyard that I have not done for it?'

The Husbandman, having thus fenced and fertilised the field He had purchased, proceeded lastly to sow the seed. And what kind of seed did He sow? It was the finest kind of wheat. For He knew that there would be no use in fertilising the soil, unless the seed were good also. And then, the whole process being finished, we are told that the Husbandman 'looked that His field should bring forth fruit.'

Now try, my young friends, and answer the questions: Who is that Husbandman? What field did He purchase? What was the price He paid for it? What is meant by His fencing it round, and bringing it into a state of fertility? What is the seed He sows? And what is the

fruit He expects to reap?

The short text, at the head of this discourse, reminds us of the operations of the farmer.

'Ye are God's

husbandry;' that is, He bestows labour upon you, similar to what a farmer does upon his fields, in order that you may yield fruit unto His praise.

'We ourselves are God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown:
First the blade and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear:

Grant, O harvest Lord, that we

Wholesome grain and pure may be!'

Now, in explaining this text, let me direct attention to four things:

I. THE PLOUGHING OF THE GROUND.

II. THE SOWING OF THE SEED.

III. THE SPRINGING OF THE SEED.
IV. THE HARVEST.

First, the ploughing of the ground. You have no doubt seen the furrows which the plough makes, and how it turns over the soil in successive layers. If a farmer were to sow his seed upon unploughed land, it would probably lie on the surface, and never take root. But before sowing, he first breaks it up with the plough, in order that it may the more readily receive the seed into its bosom. Now God adopts a similar plan, in order to prepare your hearts for receiving His message of salvation. He breaks them up, He makes them soft and tender, with the plough of conviction. The word of God is quick and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing of the soul and spirit, the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and secret intents of the heart.' For see what the plough does as it passes through the ground. It turns up soil that had been previously hid beneath the surface. So, my dear children, when the plough of conviction passes through any soul, it will reveal many things to it which it did not know before: particularly, the evil of sin, the