PEACE AT HOME.-It is just as possible to keep a calm house as a clean house, a cheerful and an orderly house as a furnished house, if the heads set themselves to do So. Where is the difficulty of consulting each other's weakness, as well as each other's wants; each other's tempers, as well as each other's health; each other's comfort, as well as each other's character? Oh! it is by leaving the peace at home to chance, instead of pursuing it by system, that so many houses are unhappy. It deserves notice, also, that almost any one can be courteous and forbearing and patient in a neighbour's house. If anything go wrong, or be out of time, or disagreeable there, it is made the best of, not the worst; even efforts are made to excuse it, and to show that it is not felt; or, if felt, it is attributed to accident, not design; and this is not only easy, but natural, in the house of a friend. I will not, therefore, believe that what is so natural in the house of another is impossible at home; but maintain, without fear, that all the courtesies of social life may be upheld in domestic societies. A husband, as willing to be pleased at home, and as anxious to please as in his neighbour's house; and a wife, as intent on making things comfortable every day to her family as on set days to her guests, could not fail to make their own home happy.

Let us not evade the point of these remarks by recurring to the maxim about allowances for temper. It is worse than folly to refer to our temper, unless we could prove that we ever gained anything good by giving way to it. Fits of ill humour

more, than those they are vented upon; and it actually requires more effort, and inflicts more pain to give them up, than would be requisite to avoid them.-Phillip.

BE FIRM.-At the critical moment in the battle of Waterloo, when everything depended on the steadiness of the soldiery, courier after courier kept dashing into the presence of the Duke of Wellington, announcing that unless the troops at an important point were immediately relieved or withdrawn, they must soon yield before the impetuous onsets of the French. By all of these the duke sent back the self-same spirit-stirring message"Stand firm!" "But we shall all perish!" remonstrated the officer. "Stand firm!" again answered the iron-hearted chieftain. "You'll find us there :" rejoined the other, as he fiercely galloped away. The result proved the truth of his reply, for every man of that doomed brigade fell bravely fighting at his post. What an example is this for the Christian contending under the blood-stained banner of the cross! Shall the worldling maintain his position at all hazards for mere earthly considerations, and the follower of the meek and lowly dare nothing for the boon of eternal life? God forbid! His pathway should be lighted up by the flames of Divine love, and in the strength of Christ he should press manfully on from conquering unto conquest. If he will only continue to act thus, he will eventually achieve a glorious victory over his last foe, and be able to shout the "harvest home" in that upper and better kingdom, where the sound of weeping never comes, and where the weary are at rest.Church Advocate.

LET not soft slumbers close my eyes
Before I've recollected thrice
The train of actions through the day:
Where have my feet marked out their way?
What have I learnt where'er I've been,
From all I've heard-from all I've seen?
What know I more, that's worth the knowing

What have I done, that's worth the doing?
What have I sought, that I should shun?
What duties have I left undone?
Or into what new follies run?
These self-inquiries are the road
That lead to virtue and to God.

From the Greek of Phythagoras.
ន

MR. GEORGE BARBER,

OF STOCKPORT,

Superintendent of Mount Tabor Sabbath School for sixteen years.

THE biography of the pious dead is an interesting branch of Christian literature. In it there are seen the operations of the Holy Spirit, impressing the image of Jesus on the heart, and giving a practical illustration of divine truth. These give to Christian biography a charm that is peculiar to itself.

Though there may not be in the life of the good man the startling incident or the daring adventure sometimes found in the works of fiction, yet there is that which is far more instructive and profitable- a development of moral excellence, of spiritual beauty, and the varied blessings attending a life of piety. As the eye rests upon these, valuable instruction is derived - the drowsy spirit is aroused-the flame of holy emulation is enkindled-and the devoted servant of God is encouraged to proceed with greater ardour in his works of faith and labours of love. With the hope that such results may be produced, the following sketch has been penned.

Our estimable brother, George Barber, was born at Heald Green, Northern Etchells, in the month of March, 1790. He thus entered upon the stage of life when the French Revolution was upheaving the nations with its convulsive throes, and which was the fearful prelude to the wars which shook Europe to its centre, and covered some of its fairest portions with the blood of the slain. At the early age of five years, George had to mourn the loss of a kind, affectionate mother. By this sad event he was early deprived of the comforts of home. He was at that time placed under the care of a distant relative at Batley; but his stay there was only of short duration. Another change awaited him. An uncle residing at Henbury received him under his roof. He soon ingratiated himself into the favour of his uncle and aunt, by his active habits, and his frank and kindly disposition. Here his little strength and feeble powers were willingly and vigorously employed in service upon the farm. By means of a cord attached to the bridles of the horses, when the plough was at work, he guided them;

and when the labours of the field were ended, he mounted on a stool to clean down the horses. He thus early began to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. But here he found a home. Here his young heart felt the power of kindness, and returned it in acts of affection and cheerful obedience. On this period he often cast a retrospective glance, and spoke with grateful emotions of the kindness of his uncle and aunt when there were but few in the world who cared for him.

While he was thus situated, a circumstance occurred which, to some persons might seem trivial, but which evidently gave a direction to his future steps, and developed a principle which was afterwards prominently exhibited in his deportment. Some Wesleyan Methodists hired a large room in an old house, in which to conduct a Sunday school, at Windy Harbour, a village some miles distant from Henbury. This was quite a subject of conversation among the villagers. There were some of those who thought themselves quite as wise, and perhaps a little more prudent than these zealous Wesleyans, and they denounced the scheme as wild and foolish, while others thought it might be promotive of good. George heard of the project, and being naturally inquisitive, and feeling a thirst for knowledge, he determined to ask leave to attend the Sunday school. This request was heard with a degree of surprise by his affectionate relatives, and it was urged that he could not be spared for a whole day from the farm, as there was no other boy there on the Sunday, and there were six cows and a horse to be attended to. Besides, the distance was deemed a serious objection. Many miles of very bad roads lay between Henbury and the school. It was now George manifested that decision of character which so strongly marked his future steps. Every objection was met, and every obstruction was seen to yield before his resolute purpose. He said in reply to objections raised, he cared not for the darkness of the morning or of the night; he shrunk not from the dangers of the road, neither did he fear going alone; and as for the work, he would rise early, and attend to that on his return. The consent of his uncle and aunt was at last given. The approaching Sab

bath was anticipated with pleasure, and soon after three o'clock in the morning of that day, he was found busily engaged in the stable and cow-house, putting all things in proper order; and while his worthy aunt prepared him his frugal breakfast, he peeled and washed the potatoes for dinner. Then with a little red handkerchief in his hand, containing a small pie for his dinner, he set out on his journey. He sought, and soon found the old house at Windy Harbour, and was at once admitted as a scholar. Enrolled among the humble villagers, delighted with the lively singing, and impressed with the fervent prayers that were offered on the occasion, George returned to tell the wonders of his first Sabbath spent in the Sunday school at Seddington. The next Sabbath this course was repeated, but with increased enjoyment. Now, as weeks revolved, and as the Sabbath dawned, there was no weariness in his efforts, or abatement in his zeal. Bright anticipations were cherished, and pure pleasure was realized. This was made evident to those by whose dwellings he had to pass; for as he returned from the school, like the bee laden with honey, he made the solitary lanes ring, while with a powerful voice he sung the heavenly melodies he had heard at the Sabbath school. On one of these occasions, as he was returning home, a visitor in the neighbourhood said to her friend, "Just hear that lad, how sweetly he sings Jesus, lover of my soul." "Aye," said the humble cottager, "he's always engaged."

George began even then to show a nobleness of mind, and that he valued the advantages of education and the genial influences of Christian truth. He told the other boys of the village the profit and pleasure he derived from the school, and invited them to go along with him. His unvarnished but glowing representations soon induced a goodly number to go, particularly as the pleasanter season of the year was at hand. As he was anxious to improve his opportunities for storing his mind with that wisdom that is more precious than rubies, and more to be desired than gold, he was so punctual in his attendance that the teacher could tell the time by his arrival, and he seldom varied more than ten or fifteen minutes in his return in the evening. No matter whether the morning was bright or cloudy-whether it was warm or cold-at the usual hour he was seen

on the road, or occupying his place in the school. These were to him the sunny days of youth. Each new truth communicated to him, and clearly understood by him, was so much treasure acquired. Yet while he thus became richer in knowledge, he was not satisfied with his present possessions. As his intellectual powers were expanded his desire became more intense, and his efforts corresponded therewith.

But our brother was not to remain longer at Henbury with his kind uncle and aunt. He must now learn a trade; he must be bound an apprentice. The trade selected for him was that of a hat finisher. This caused a complete change in his position and prospects.

George now began to feel himself the subject of vicissitude and trial. His youthful affections had entwined themselves around his affectionate uncle and aunt, and the Sunday school to which he had gone with such delight. But now he must be taken away from them all. He removed to Romily, many miles distant from Henbury. This, however, was not done without many a sigh and many a tear. He found himself cut off from kind and sympathizing relatives, and deprived of the instructions of the Sabbath school teacher. George was at this time scarcely eleven years of age. He had no fond mother to care for him and caress him-no kind friend to whom he could look for counsel or comfort-no pious teacher to unfold the truth to his understanding, and give a proper direction to his affections. This was to him a critical time. What momentous things depend upon the steps taken at such a time! The instructions he had received at that early age were invaluable to him in that day. They gave a right direction to his steps at that stage of life. When the first day's toil in his new situation was over, the little exile longed for spiritual communion.

There stood in a field, close to his master's house, an old barn. When all was silent he resorted thither. He entered while the tears were falling fast. All was dark and gloomy within. He closed the old creaking door, and then he fell prostrate on the floor. There he poured out his griefs into the ears of his Father in heaven; there he sought the favour of Him who, in the days of his flesh, said "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom