world generally move quietly. The vulgar idea of an engine is, that if it make a great noise it is very powerful. Not so. Neither is it of the fore-rank men of the world. They have generally passed quietly along, avoiding noisy demonstrations.

A word to parents and friends. Before the young man departs, give him a good book.

I

How easy to do this. The most timid Christian can certainly do this much. would not have any one stop with this, in the way of doing good. But look, while I tell you of the good that simple act may do.

A captain left this port a short time ago, who is, and has been for some years, a very excellent Christian-a real worker-so much so, that on one voyage he was the means of the conversion of four of his crew. In a word, he "goes about doing good." Note the turning point with him:-Some years ago, while a mate, on leaving this port, a good book was given him at the Sailors' Home.

"That book," he says, "was the instrument of my conversion."

Bless the hand that gave him that book! Reader, dost thou covet a like blessing? Go and do likewise.

As the merchant boxes his goods, especially for the border lands, how desirable, and how easy to put in a good book or two; and many may rise up to bless him.

As mother or sister packs brother's trunk, for journeyings on land or sea, slip in a good book-always the book, and also another or two; accompany them with thy prayer, and look for the blessing.

Yes, give him a good book; you cannot do less for him, and do it now. Redeem the time-haste to the rescue. "To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin." "Let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins."

CHAPTER V.

THE YOUNG MAN AT THE END.

"IT is difficult for us who have never experienced it, to realize what it is for a youth with bright hopes to be summoned to surrender them all. First, as disease takes possession of the system, to give up the innocent pleasures of companionship and taste-those joyous rambles in field, and grove, and forest, where the buoyant spirit so fully sympathizes with nature, gathering strength from exercise, and drinking in gladness from the breezes laden with the perfume of flowers, and made vocal by the songsters of the air; to exchange all these for the carefully closed sick-room, and an inactive state, in which even exercise is a task and a peril-this is hard. Then, as the strength is wasting, to feel that one is burdening kind friends in

stead of aiding them; to feel that the powers conferred by nature, or secured by education, are to be of no use on earth; and the busy world, ever estimating each one by the bustle he makes, is leaving the inactive one out of account, to become conscious of inability to participate with dear companions in gatherings for friendly converse and joyous song; this is indeed trying."

And yet all these trials can be endured and not a murmur; yea, the last monster met, and not even a sigh: as, for example, the following case proves. "How sweet!"

This was the half-whispered exclamation at the bedside of Addy, as she went to sleep, to await the coming of her Husband, whose voice should awake her, never more to sleep. There, indeed, was a practical commentary upon that blessed truth-"He giveth his beloved sleep." And also, "that being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

Although Addy was but eighteen years old, she had known for some time what it

was to live for Christ. It was indeed "Christ for her to live." "Will this please Christ?" "Will this glorify Christ?" "Christ is my lover." "I must dress for Christ." "I believe in a present Christ." Thus had she lived for four years. Is it any wonder she died so peacefully? If such an one had not so died, it would have almost staggered the faith of some of her friends in the promise, Psalm xxiii. 4, "I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." But as it was, it confirmed them in the promise; the scoffing, cold infidel to the contrary crying, "it was all a delusion." A delusion? So call it-was it not a blessed one?

It is sad to see any one die, but especially a hale, hearty young man. We, of course, expect the aged to die; and we are not surprised that frail infancy yields in the battle of life; but when a youth falls, we are not quite prepared for the shock. It seems as if death had no business with such activities; that he ought to wait until there is some wear and tear of the machinery.

Then, too, generally, so many hopes centre