HAT HAVE been thinking, since I came into the meeting to-night, about the losses I have met with since I signed the total abstinence pledge. I tell you, there isn't a man in the society has lost more by stopping drink than what I have. Wait a bit till I tell you what I mean. There was a nice job of work to be done in the shop to-day, and the boss called for me. "Give it to Law," says he. "He's the best hand in the shop." Well, I told my wife at suppertime, and says she, "Why, Laurie, he used to call you the worst. You've lost your bad name, haven't you?" "That's a fact, wife," says I. And it ain't all I've lost in the last sixteen months either. I had poverty and wretchedness, and I've lost them. I had an old, ragged coat, and a OST. "shocin' bad hat," and some water-proof boots that let the wet out at the toe as fast as they took it in at the heel. I've lost them. I had a red face, and a trembling hand, and a pair of shaky legs, that gave me an awkward tumble now and then. I had a habit of cursing and swearing, and I have got rid of that. I had an aching head sometimes, and a heavy heart, and, worse than all the rest, a guilty conscience; I thank God I've lost them all! Then I told my wife what she had lost. "You had an old ragged gown, Mary," says I. "And you had trouble and sorrow, and a poor home, for you had a miserable drunkard for a husband. Mary! Mary! thank the Lord for all you and I have lost since I signed the pledge!" PUZZLES. ON the second puzzle for November there was an error in the sixth line. It should read thus, "My whole I'm sure you know." A few have answered it correctly, but we think it only fair to let it stand open for another month before we publish the answers, which will give an opportunity for those to answer who may have been perplexed by the way it is stated. But let those who wish to answer send their answers at once, as we should like to announce in the next number the names of those who have won the prizes. I.—A basket contained oranges, nuts, and eggs, and in all 1,769. There were 1,696 oranges and nuts, and 1,262 nuts and eggs. How many more nuts were there than oranges? II. Before noon a clock which is too fast, points to afternoon time, is put back 5 hours 40 min.; and it is observed, the time before shown is to the true time as 29 is to 195. Required the true time? Letters for the Editor to be addressed— 4, Mountfort Crescent, London, N. London: T. NEWTON, Methodist Free Church Book-room, 119, Salisbury-square, Fleetstreet, E.C. ST. VALENTINE'S DAY. UR first picture this month explains itself. A brother and sister are making haste to put the valentines they are sending to their cousins into the post-box. We are sorry to say that we are not able to clearly explain the origin of sending love-letters on the 14th of February. We will, however, transcribe what is said on Valentine's Day in Brand's Dictionary : "February 14th is the day sacred to St. Valentine, a presbyter, who, according to the legend, was beheaded at Rome under Claudius. Mr. Brand says that he cannot find in the life of the saint circumstances any likely to have given origin to the peculiar ceremonies of the day. It appears to have been a very old notion, however (for it is alluded to by Chaucer and Shakspeare), that on this day birds begin to couple. And the custom of choosing Valentines' is of 'Oft have I heard both youths and virgins CHRISTMAS DEED AND ITS NEW YEAR'S ISSUE. ELF-SACRIFICE, loving service, good-will and forgiveness-these were the lessons which the aged minister tried to teach in his Christmas-morning sermon. In tones that were tremulous from old age, with a pathos that went home to the hearts of the rough fishermen and women who filled the wooden benches of the quaint little church, he took for his subject the birth of Him who, being God, yet "took on Himself the form of a servant, was made in the likeness of man, humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death," to give life to His enemies, and show them the way back to happiness and God. The theme was an old one, but they listened with peculiar interest; it was the old man's farewell sermon. And though his counsels had been often slighted, and it seemed as if he had spent among them the strength of fifty years almost for nought, they loved him at heart; the very gentleness of which they took advantage, and at which they sometimes almost sneered, had given him a hold on their affections stronger than they knew. As, after the farewell blessing, they trooped outside, they stood about in the churchyard, some to exchange Christmas greetings, others to scan with anxious eyes the darkening horizon and discuss the prospect of a violent storm. Far out at sea the white foam was tossing wildly, and the wind was rapidly rising, bringing in gusts a drizzling misty rain that every now and then seemed to merge sky and sea in one. "God help the poor souls that spend Christmas out at sea!" said Widow Enderby, keeping her little girl's hand clasped in hers, and thinking of her orphan lad, now on board a Hull trading-boat, making his trial trip. 66 And keep them far out from such a shore as yon!" added an old sailor, pointing to the rock-bound coast at their feet. "Amen!" reached the widow's ear, in a tone so deep and heart-felt, that she turned. hastily. As her eyes fell on the speaker, she shuddered and shrank back. He was a tall, powerful man of fifty; thick, shaggy eyebrows nearly overhung his eyes; worn, soiled clothes assorted ill with the holiday garb of those around him, but matched his wild hair, untrimmed beard, and furrowed brow. Yet it was not for these things that she shrank from him, and he knew it; though the only sign he gave was in the quiver of the lips and a softening of the sad blue eyes, which were bent on the little cripple boy he was gently and slowly guiding down the path. A struggle in the good woman's hearta thought of the holy Babe whose birth was ushered in with angels' song of peace and love and good-will to all-and she held out her hand to the man whose hand none had clasped in fellowship for four long years. 66 Neighbour Maling," said she tremulously, "tis a far road you have to take your boy this stormy day, and my wee Janie sorely misses her brother: come in and share our Christmas dinner;" and then with a little sob in her voice she broke down. Four years ago a fishing-boat had gone down in sight of shore, and, of the four on board, three (two men and a lad) were lost -only Maling, the one whose drunken carelessness had brought them into danger, and whose cowardice amid that danger had mainly brought the final disaster on them, was rescued, to live for ever after a shunned and lonely man. The drunkenness might easily have been forgiven-it was a common fault there-but not the special cowardice which had left his "mates" unhelped while he alone escaped. And of those two drowned men one was Widow Enderby's husband. The invitation had been heard, and several paused to listen for the reply. "Take the boy, and God bless you!”— that was all. He placed the cripple's hand in little Janie's, and, with no look for any of the crowd, passed rapidly through them. to the lonely hovel where he dwelt. "Poor wretch!" said one pityingly; "'tis awful to live with his burden on his conscience; yet 'twas real brave of Widow Enderby." "Why should I not ?" asked she. ""Twas God Almighty took my man from me, not Joe Maling; and if He could give up Himself for us when we were untractable, disobedient children, sure I could give yon poor man shelter and food the day that Christ was born. And, though he did fearsome wrong once, he has repented it, I feel sure, and there are worse than him." It was a new way of putting it, and coming from Widow Enderby, it carried weight. "Sure if she says it," said one— "and do you mind how he walked to Scoresby for the grand new doctor when old Mother Iles was took bad?"-" and how he got little Janie grapes and all sorts of outlandish fruits when she was down with fever, though he must have pinched himself sorely to do it ?"-so spoke one and another as they went to their several homes, cripple Joe led by little Janie, both well content to be together. |