that needs a helping hand, and that sagacious brute knows it, and has come to shake old Seth out of his sleep to-night. Right, old fellow, right." Thus meditating, and sometimes soliloquising, Seth strove onwards, setting his face against the driving sleet with a manly and pious determination to discover what he believed to be some fellow-creatures either lost or in peril on the moor.

As an interlude, he sustained a long, loud whistle betwixt his soliloquies; but with no better result than making his teeth tingle with the icy particles that the movement drew into his lips. "Ah, well," he said, "I must give in. I may beat about here all night, and only get lost myself. And like as it was with Elijah and the ravens, so I quite believe in an overruling Providence, and that our merciful Lord will use what instrument He pleases when He delivers His children from difficulties."

And was not Seth Martin right? Do we not read in the Bible of the humble sources whence the Lord's people received help or timely warning? Do we not read of things animate and inanimate as pressed into His service of love and pity when He works "deliverances for Jacob :" or, in other words, when He answers the prayer of the destitute and relieves the wants of the poor ?1

Yes, indeed, Seth's prophecy proved true. On the morrow about noon both dog and basket appeared again ; but with greater boldness on the part of the former. Entrance was now demanded as a right more than scraped for as a favour.

"You are a bold beggar, sir!" cried the farmer, chuckling with secret satisfaction at the beautiful confidence shown by the animal as it laid down its burden and eyed them with beseeching looks.

"None too bold for what we've taught him, I'm sure," said Mary, with equal pleasure. "Is the new year's pie to go in, sir?-I guess that is why we didn't cut it last night." 1: 1 Psa. xliv. 4, with cii. 17.

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"Of course, Polly; we couldn't do less-but eh what have we got here?"

And Mr. Martin drew a neatly-folded slip of paper from the wicker, where it had been carefully inserted, and from it read as follows:

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.'

"P.S.-I do not know how to thank my unknown friends. May the God of the fatherless and of the widow bless you!

"P.S. 2.-I didn't know the dog had gone to beg, believe me, kind benefactor. He is a neighbour's dog that my children are very fond of, and when he heard them crying for bread he seemed like to grow frantic, and caught up a basket that he knows I fetch food in and ran off, we didn't know where, till he came back with what, I must believe, came in answer to prayer. So grateful for the note; shouldn't have liked to take the things without it. The Lord reward you, and grant you as happy a new year as your gift has made me to-day. Please believe that I only send the basket again to make sure of this note going safe by Bocco.

"Your humble, grateful,

"SARAH AVIS."

"I believe you!" cried Seth ; " but please also believe me, that I am not going to send your basket back empty. Here Bocco, Bocco !"

On hearing itself called by name the dog became excited with pleasure, crouching and springing by turns as Mr. Martin caressed it.

"So you couldn't bear to hear the children cry for hunger, could you, you old beauty?" said Mary, as the animal placed its feet on her shoulders in order to salute her face. "You are a good fellow, and shall have a sup yourself. -No, no; eat it yourself; I'll look after the basket," she added, with a laugh, as Bocco began to pack his morsel again; and, to her great delight, the generous-minded

dog seemed to comprehend, and devoured his dinner with avidity.

To Mary's surprise, when the basket was once more filled with substantial food, Seth took possession of it, saying:

"Now then, Bocco, since I have the advantage of knowing your name, you will have to follow me, or I you; for I mean to carry this; so you go on-either before or after me, and I'll soon find whither you are bound. Now, no resistance, Mary; I mean to go."

But neither Mary nor Bocco offered any resistance; the former only asked leave to tie a comforter round her master's neck, and the latter wagged his tail and barked vociferously, as if to say: "Carry it by all means, and I'll show you where." So Seth set out, and, following the dog's eager footsteps, soon entered a cottage on the further outskirts of the moor. But Seth had no sooner passed the threshold than he paused. What warrant had he for intruding where there was neither sight nor sound betokening poverty? on the contrary, everything around bore the appearance of thrifty comfort; whilst the low, sweet tones of a woman's voice singing showed that whatever else was wanting in this moorland home, cheerfulness was not. This sudden pause, however, did not suit the dog; with a look of wonder he scanned Seth's face, as if to seek a satisfactory reason for such behaviour, and then, uttering a short bark, he was about to run up the stairs, when a child's shout was heard.

'Moder, dere's dear Bocco tum adain wid de basset;" and following the voice a bright little girl came half tumbling over the stairs; then standing abashed before Seth, she seemed inclined to cry, until she bethought herself of hugging Bocco to hide at once her confusion and tears.

"Is this your basket, little one?" asked Seth, scarcely less confused than the child.

"No; it's moder's."

"Well, will you take it up to her, my little dear, and say I've filled it again?"

The child stared at him, and said slowly :

“Did 'ou fill it so full yes'day? Moder said 'twas God, and she've a been singing 'praise God, all bessings flow' to Him for sendin' it.”

“Did she want it very bad then, my pretty dear ?" asked Seth, the tears moistening his kind grey eyes.

But the child only repeated her question, "Did 'ou fill it? Moder said it was God."

"I expect we both mean the same.

Yes, God did fill this basket-mother's right, little one. You just give her this, and tell her somebody will come to see her another day. Here, Bocco will carry it up for you; it is too heavy for you, little mite."

But the this referred more to a piece of money that he slipped into the child's hand than to the provisions, of which the faithful dog had already taken possession, and only awaited the word of command to start up with it to the widow and her family. From that moment Seth became their stedfast friend, and Mary more decidedly than ever believed in Elijah and the ravens.

"O fear the Lord, ye His saints: for there is no want to them that fear Him..... They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing."

I Wish you a Happy New Year.

HIS is the

message which this little magazine brings to every one of its readers. To old and young, to rich and poor, we wish most sincerely, in the fullest sense of the words, a Happy New Year. Health, strength, prosperity, peace, domestic and social enjoyment, all, indeed, that tends to make life bright and cheerful; may each of these, or rather as many of them as the God of infinite love sees to be best for you, be yours

1 Psa. xxxiv. 9, 10.

through the months and days of eighteen hundred and seventy-nine!

But especially may it be yours to know much this year of the presence of Christ, much of communion with Him, much of consecration to His service, much of joy in the Holy Ghost, of delight in God's Word, and of liberty in prayer. For, if these be your portion, whatever else may be lacking it must be a year of rich blessing.

A Happy New Year! I have thought sometimes when hearing these words on the lips of others, and have felt condemned by the same reflection when they have crossed my own, how hypocritical they are in many cases. I do not mean that they are intentionally insincere, for I suppose that there are few hearts so hard as to be utterly unmoved by the many associations that crowd around the dying of the old year and the opening of the new. It is a feeling of the common brotherhood of mankind that finds expression in the natural and kindly greeting, "I wish you a happy new year." But how soon that softened feeling passes away; how quickly we become accustomed to the new figures at the head of our almanacs and our letters, and settle down again into the old routine! For many reasons, no doubt, this is most necessary; but it surely cannot be necessary that the good wishes of the season should fade away from our memories as entirely as if we had never given utterance to them; that we should do no more for the wellbeing and comfort of those around us; consider their wishes no more, vex them as readily, or forget them as truly as if there had never passed our lips the greeting, "I wish you a happy new year."

And if we willingly and habitually act in this way, is there not a measure of inconsistency at least, if not of insincerity, in our use of the words? For what we earnestly desire shall we not endeavour to bring about? Is not our indifference another phase of the idle, cheap charity which St. James condemns: "If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them,