tice; and I fear I complained a little at its imprisonment: but, as I had no work of consequence in hand, I soon learned to submit to keep it quiet.

It was not till I began to consider it getting well that I felt much inconvenience. Then, when the poultice was removed, and the hand was bound by straps of thin leather, I began to attempt to use it, and discovered how much more necessary it was for my comfort than I had hitherto supposed.

I stood by the fire preparing for a walk, and with my right hand began to put on the warm fur boots that had been airing for my comfort; and, to steady myself, placed the palm of my left hand on the table by my side, leaning my whole weight upon it. The straps of plaster burst asunder, the wounds gushed out afresh, and my walk was prevented by the pain occasioned by my want of thought. Next, in preparing a newspaper to send to a friend in the country, I folded it, tied a string round it, all which I managed very well; but, while pressing it down with my right hand, I gave it a hard blow with the poor disabled limb, to flatten it. This put an end to my work ; I was obliged to give up the task to one better able to perform it.

Again, seeing that some sugar required nipping, I thought it exactly a job to suit

me; so I took up the nippers, and while I attempted to cut with the right hand, pressed the palm of the left hand on the thumb of the right to ensure success. The usual painful results followed.

My next hurt occurred in the house of God. I had been kneeling, and I held my book in the right hand, and pressed the left on the seat behind to assist me in rising. Scarcely could thoughts of the holy place keep me from crying out with the pain it gave me, so far did this exceed all the other consequences of my want of care. I now resolved to place my wounded hand in a sling and await patiently for its complete recovery before I again attempted to use it. And so I remained idle. No, not idle, I hope, for I employed my mind in considering of how great a value is every limb which the all-wise and bountiful Creator has made for our use. It is not till we are deprived of a blessing that we learn properly to value it. It is not till deprived of the use of a limb that we feel how "fearfully and wonderfully we are made."

Try, my reader, for a little while to do without the service of any member of your body, and you will perceive how, for our comfort, each limb acts for or with the others at the will of our great Creator. How beautifully we are formed, how minute are many parts of our body, and yet, as

a whole, how complete. When we rightly consider this, we shall cease to look upon our daily comforts as matters of course. Then shall we feel towards the Giver of these, and countless other mercies, that our utmost tribute of praise is all too poor. Then shall we acknowledge, with the holy psalmist, "O Lord, how manifold are thy works in wisdom hast thou made them all," Psa. civ. 24. H. I. J.

THE FLY.

O YOU little silly fly!

There's a spider watching nigh;
You will soon be in his snare,
Buzzing without heed or care.

There!-the little fly is caught
By the spider, quick as thought;
Lo, he binds and bites the fly;
Silly creature, you must die.

Careless children, like the fly,
Do not think when danger's nigh,
Mind not what they do or say,
Thus becoming Satan's prey.

Children thus, who learn to sin,
Carelessly at first begin;

By the sin they soon are bound,
Satan's prey they thus are found.

Let us always watchful be,

Pray from sin to be set free;
Then, though Satan's snares are near,
God will keep us in his fear.

YOUTHFUL FRAILTY.

WHAT is our life?

tender flower,

That blossoms for a day;

Yet some rude hand, at early hour,
Oft steals the bud away.

Or if the opening flower disclose
Its pretty tints to view,
While we admire, alas! it shows
Its fading nature too.

Beneath the tempest's rage it bends,
It droops, no more to rise;
Then quickly to the earth descends,
And all its glory dies.

Ye young ones, in your youthful prime,
To heavenly joys aspire;
Nor let the vanities of time

Engross your heart's desire.

Prepare for death's dark stormy day,
To Christ for refuge flee;

So shall you bloom, nor fear decay,
Through vast eternity!

Essex.

J. B.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE LOST SHEEP. IN the land of Judea there were a great many sheep; the men who kept them were called shepherds. These shepherds took a great deal of care of their flocks. They watched them at night, to keep away beasts of prey, and lest the sheep should wander. No. 76. APRIL, 1844.

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