THE ROYALTY OF THE POOR.
A TRUE NARRATIVE.

On a fine summer's evening, as crowds of artisans were passing along the streets of Hamburg, to drink coffee and hear the music at the Elb Ercholung, or Altonano, a shoemaker was busy cobbling his shoe beneath an awning near his door. Above his head was a starling, which sang and chattered, and seemed to keep a busy talk with its kind-hearted possessor,-now turning its head, and looking down upon his bald pate with a most curious eye, as a master would watch and examine an apprentice at his work; and then, as if quite satisfied, would ruffle his feathers, fly up to his perch, and pour forth his every note, and bit of song, and witty saying, which he had learned, to the great delight of old Hans the cobbler. Hans would say half aloud"Thou art a happy bird, and well provided for; and why should not I be a happy ehristian with such mercies?" and so he would begin to sing one of the fine old German psalm tunes.

While thus engaged on the said evening, hardly looking up from the sole of the large shoe before him, and heedless of the crowded street, a young man who was passing by stopped and addressed him, saying,

"Well, friend-beg pardon-but you seem a happy fellow !"

The person who thus spoke had the look and dress of a student. His features were dark and sombre, with the full black eye, the high nose, and rather sallow skin, which marked the descendant of Abraham. Hans looked up to him, and replied with a cheerful voice,

"Merry! to be sure I am right merry, my brother; and why should I not be so?" "All are not so!" replied the student, with a sigh and a shrug of his shoulders.

"Why should you not, you asked," con

tinued the student; "I would reply that your own poverty might afford a sufficient cause for sadness in you. But you have no living thing, I suppose, to take care of but the bird up there, who seems, by the way, to be as jolly as yourself?"

"And why should not he be metry? my little speckled breast!" said Hans, chirrup ing to his starling. "But he is not all my family, young man; for I have a wife and seven children to provide for with these hands; but see, I can sing at my work!"

The student was silent; and he began to think of all the sorrow he had experienced* in the midst of books and literature; and in spite of having youth and health on kis side, with fair prospects of success in the world, yet, he knew not why or how, a saduess like the pall of death often rested. on his spirits; but questionings from the endless future, and from beyond the grave, came to him in his solitary hour, to which he could give no answer; and he had no peace from thoughts of God, when he had thoughts of Him at all; and he knew not Jesus Christ! He was a Jew, and felt that. for his soul old things had passed away, but nothing had as yet become new! And 80, while in one of these gloomy moods, and when on his way to seek some repose from the music, and enjoyment from the company, in the public gardens, he was arrested by the busy and happy cobbler, and by a sudden impulse was induced to address him, in order to discover from what source one so poor, and yet so contented, drew his happiness.

Again resuming the conversation, he said, "I confess, friend, I am surprised to see a poor artisan like you so cheerful."

"Poor!" exclaimed Hans, "how knowest thou, friend, how my account stands with the bank? Poor; I am richer than thou knowest."

"It may be, it may be," said the student, with a smile. "I must have heard, though I have forgot, thy name in the Exchange. or heard of the sailing of thy ships, or, when at the bank,

"

"Enough," said Hans, "thou hast confessed thy ignorance of me," and then, stopping his work, laying his hand on the. student's arm, and looking at him with an expression of countenance from which all fun was banished, he said, calmly and solemnly," Stranger, I am not poor. Don't pity me; envy me, for be it known to you/ that I am a king's son !"

The student started, made a low bow, and departed. "Poor fellow, poor fellow !" he muttered to himself; art thou happy only because thou art mad? art thou able to rejoice only because all realities are to thee but dreams, and all dreams to thee realities? I have sought strength and comfort at thy mouth in vain."

A week pissed, and again the student traversed the same street; and there, in the old place, was Hans, busy as ever in his stall, and his starling as happy as ever in his cage. The student, as he passed him, took off his cap, and said,

"Good evening to your Royal Highness."

Halt, friend," said Hans, with a cheerful but firm voice," and come here to me a few minutes. I am glad I have seen you again. You left me abruptly t'other evening. I suppose you thought I was mad. But I am not so; but, in sober earnest, I tell you again I am a king's son, and when you interrupted me I was singing a song about my kingdom. Would you like to hear it ?" "Surely, if it please your Royal Highness," replied the Jew, with a benevolent smile, and anxious to gratify his strange acquaintance, whose insanity he never doubted. Hans, having provided a seat for the young Jew, began to sing a hymn on "Thy kingdom come," and when it was finished, perceiving that it was listened to with apparently deep interest, he asked if he understood its meaning. The Jew shook his head; upon which Hans proceeded to explain all he knew, and it was much, about the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and the glory of its King; and how every subject in His kingdom was a son and an heir, yea, a "joint heir" with Christ, the King, and would reign with Him for ever and ever! As old Hans expatiated on these promises, his work was laid aside, his eye beamed with love and hope, and deep feeling gave eloquence and grace to his language. The Jew sat at his feet, gazing up to him with his full black eye, and so absorbed by all he heard, for the first time in his life, of the promise made of old unto his fathers, that he was roused from his waking dream only by Hans taking him by the hand, and saying, "Now thou seest how I am a king's son, and why I am happy; for I know and love this Jesus, and all things are mine, whether life or death, things present and things to come; and, young man," he asked with emphasis, "believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest. For,

From this book," said Hans, handing him a Bible. "Go home and read there about the kingdom, and return to me when thou hast studied the passages I shall point out to thee; and whilst thou art doing battle to the enemies of thy soul,-for Satan will stir up a host to destroy thee,I shall, like Moses, pray for thee on the mount, and ask One to pray for thee, whom as yet thou knowest not, but who knoweth thee, and who is greater than Moses."

The young Jew grasped Hans by the hand, and taking off his cap made a respectful how, and departed. "May the Lord engraft him into his own olive-tree!" said Hans, looking upward and resuming his work, when the form of the Jew was lost to him, as he turned into a neighbouring street.

My story is ended. The substance of it was told me by a distinguished christian Jew, as we walked together in the streets of Hamburgh. What became of Hans I could not learn. But the young Jew is now Mr. N, for many years a successful missionary to his brethren in Silesia.

Reader, let us derive one lesson before we part; it is this: If the seed of truth is in thy hand, sow it in any field which God provides for thee in his providence, and the least seed may become a great tree, whose fruit may feed many souls, and make glad thine own, here and hereafter, with exceeding joy !

SYMPATHY TAUGHT BY SORROW. A LESSON AND AN EXAMPLE. Our neighbour, Mrs. Wells, though scarcely past her youth, had known severe trials. Her children, three in number, were taken from her by a contagious disease, and for a time the childless mother was bowed to the earth in utter desolation.

But with God's grace in her heart, she could not stay there. She rose up, not embittered by the chastening, but sub

missive under it, henceforth to extend to many the love she had known for a few, and to be the consolation of every sorrow. ing heart that came within her influence. Let us follow her in one of her errands of love.

It is a cold and blustering day late in October, but the fierce wailing of the wind that sweeps past her delicate frame brings with it no gloom for her. She thinks it may sadden her poor neighbour, and she will call and see.

As she entered the low, brown house, with sloping roof, whose windows were rattling in every gust, her first glance from the threshold confirmed her fears. The poor old woman sat close in the chimney corner, shivering with the chill air, her head bent forward with a look of pain, while the few embers on the hearth sent out a cheerless smoke.

"How are you to-day, Mrs. Morris ?" asked Mrs. Wells, and as the full, rich tones of the speaker fell upon the woman's ear, they caused her to look up. She had not observed her step; that was too light for her dull hearing.

"Miserable enough," was the desponding answer, "this cold north-easter has given me a smoky room, and brought my rheumatism back again."

"I was afraid so," said the lady, as she drew off her gloves, and laid aside her bonnet; but you will be better soon, a bit of paper and a few chips will mend the fire, and then we will see what can be done for you."

At these words the heavy heart began to grow lighter, and the severe expression of the time-worn face to soften. In less than half an hour the fire was blazing cheerily, and the old tea-kettle sung a pleasant, murmuring song, while the soft hand of

the visitor eased the pain from the thin, aching arm of the sufferer.

My

"You were just born to be a comfort to such a poor body as I am," said she with a grateful smile, and this is the day of all others when you would be welcome. Peggy has gone to try and get work, and Jim has a job at Sq tire Hill's new house, so I sat all alone, thinking how bad it was to be old and helpless, when in came your kind face, and it is enough to make one well just to get a sight of that."

"But you know, Mrs. Morris, there is a better Friend than I am, who will be with you all the time if you desire it; in the still hour of midnight, or when the storm is loudest; and that Friend can make your pains turn into blessings."

"Aye, I know who you mean, it is the Lord Jesus himself, and if I were not so faithless, I should never be so downhearted. He is the best Friend a poor sinner like me can have, and many's the time I think of Him as I sit here alone. Sometimes he is very near me, and this room grows bright with His presence; but, alas, I often forget Him, as I did to-day, and my troubles grow upon me, and there is no comfort! Read me one chapter from the good book before you go, Mrs. Wells; read about that disciple who was so slow to believe his Master had risen from the dead. If I had been there I should have been just like him; it does me good to hear what Jesus said to Thomas. He seems to be saying those very words to my poor unbelieving heart."

The Bible was lifted from the shelf, the chapter read, and as the lady turned away from the lowly dwelling, it was with a consciousness that the blessing she had, bestowed was not greater than the one she had received.

sented to us. We are glad to say that this edition by Dr. Angus is all that we could wish. The text is carefully and correctly printed; the analyses are brief yet full; the notes are for the most part judicious and valuable,-though some of the more theological ones we imagine were inserted more in deference to the Religious Tract Society, than from Dr. Angus's own conviction of their necessity,-these might have been dispensed with; and the index, based on the one revised by Bishop Butler himself, has been edited with considerable care. Altogether we know no edition of Butler we can so heartily commend. The addition of the invaluable Fifteen Sermons increases the worth of the volume. It is designed especially, Dr. Angus tells us, "for the use of students." We trust that this publication will be the means of increasing the number of the thoughtful and persevering students of Butler among our young men. Whether simply as an intellectual exercise, or as a help to a firmer hold of Christianity in these days of scepticism, the book is of priceless value: and he has deprived himself of untold treasures, treasures which he can hardly otherwise gain,-who has never sat down and thoroughly mastered this noble work. DEVOTIONAL VERSE FOR A MONTH. BY THE REV. THOMAS DAVIS, M.A. Pp. 192. London: Hamilton, Adams, & Co.

Amongst those who deserve the gratitude of the christian church, there are not many who deserve more hearty thanks, than those who have provided it with mediums for the expression of its devotional feelings. Of these the Royal Psalmist will stand ever first in place; but there have been many in modern days whose sweet words have been refreshing to the christian traveller as streams in the desert, and whose strains will be remembered and sung as long as the world lasts. We have no desire to place Mr. Davis amongst this class; but in a lower position, with the Kebles, the Warings, and others, whose sweet and true-hearted words have cheered and invigorated many a downcast spirit, we do unhesitatingly think he ought to stand. The modest little volume before us contains two compositions in verse for each of the days of a month; one of the pieces strictly devotional, the other "only of a sacred cast, and designed for the most part to illustrate or impress some important moral or spi.itual truth." Of the simple beauty that characterises these com.

"Then scatter freely, nor withhold thy hand
Till close of even:

Earth is the place of toil,-the better land
Of rest is heaven."

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A FUGITIVE NEGRO :
AND HIS ANTI-SLAVERY LABOURS IN THE
UNITED STATES, CANADA, AND ENGLAND.
By SAMUEL RINGNOLD WARD. Pp. 412.
London: John Snow.

If this book, according to the request of the author, is "not to be looked upon as a specimen of what a well educated negro could do," it may at least be regarded as another proof of the possibility of elevated thoughts and noble intellect in one of the negro race. Samuel Ringnold Ward has been known amongst us in England for nearly three years; and often has he thrilled us by his captivating eloquence, and his stirring appeals on behalf of his degraded and enslaved race. This volume is a memorial of his visit to England, and, indeed, a Record of his Life, left with us now that he has returned to the United States. It is deeply interesting as a narrative; but it is still more valuable on account of the view it gives of the Slavery question, and the inducements it furnishes to British philan thropists and christians to labour on with a view to the removal of slavery from the world. We cordially commend the volume to our readers; and sincerely trust that Mr. Ward may be long spared to work in the great cause to which he has devoted his talents and his life.

THE BIRTH-DAY COUNCIL; OR, HOW TO BE USEFUL. By MRS. ALARIC A. WATTS. Pp. 230. London: Hamilton, Adams, and Co.

A very nice little book for the young: at the same time interesting and instruc