erroneous; and it will remain one of the curiosities of science, that Herschel should have regarded the absence of a lunar atmosphere as causing an intense heat on the moon's surface, while Captain Ericsson takes that fact to be a positive proof of the superlatively cold condition of that body.

The Herschel party claim that recent experiments with the great Rosse telescope sustain their theory. That gigantic instrument has the largest metallic reflector in the world, and by connecting the telescope with clock-work, during the present year, Lord Rosse has been able to concentrate the rays of the moon upon a delicate heat measurer, for the purpose of determining whether the moon gives out heat or not. No tests previously made were satisfactory on that point; but this one settled the question beyond a doubt. The lunar rays do transmit a sensible degree of heat. This fact is quoted to substantiate the Herschel theory, but it does not necessarily do so. For it is a well-established truth that heat may be reflected from surfaces of ice, of iron, or glass, or other substances themselves cold. Reflected heat from cold bodies, or beat radiated from hot bodies, would produce exactly the same effects upon objects receiving the rays. No means are now known by which reflected and radiated heat can be told apart, except by an examination of the surface from which they proceed. The Rosse experiments, therefore, while they are very interesting as deciding a mooted point, and demonstrating that the "chaste beams of the watery moon altogether devoid of heat, settles nothing conclusively as between Ericsson and Herschel; for there is no doubt that Ericsson's hypothetical lunar ice would reflect as much heat as Herschel's supposed temperature would radiate.

are not

THE JUDGE AND THE POOR AFRICAN WOMAN.

In one of the populous and beautiful towns on the banks of "La Belle Rivière," (the Ohio,) there dwelt-and, for aught I know, dwells nowa just judge, honourable in life as well as in title; and also a poor African woman, long since gone to her reward in the kingdom above. She was noble in the power and beauty of her spiritual life, though as poor as she could well be in this world's goods; and she is now, doubtless, in the beatific presence of the Saviour, whom she loved and trusted so fully upon earth. The judge was rich, and highly esteemed. He dwelt in a mansion, not so fine as to repel, not so imposing as to make

him the envy of the foolish; large enough to be the social centre of the town, and plain enough to make every one feel at home in it. His heart, too, was in keeping with his house, large and open.

The poor African woman lived in a cabin in an alley, alone, without child or kin. Her own hands ministered amply to her own wants while she had health; and she often earned enough to enable her to give something towards the spread of the Gospel in distant lands. Her home, though poor and small, was always neat and tidy. She belonged to the church of which the judge was an officer, and often sat down with him at the table of the Lord; as she will again, O, how joyously! at the marriage-supper of the Lamb. But it so happened that they had never had free conversation together about the things of the heavenly kingdom. He respected her: she venerated him. At last she received a severe injury, from which she never recovered; and, for many weary months before her death was dependent, helpless, and bedridden.

During this time the judge's ample table and abundant wardrobe had .contributed largely to the comforts of the poor woman. Never a day but she was remembered. But for a long time, for one reason or another, the judge put off a personal visit, which yet he fully purposed to make her. At last, one day, as he thought of the cheeriness of his own pleasant home, the thought of the contrast between this and the loneliness and desolation of the African's cabin came into his mind; and, while it heightened his gratitude for the goodness of God to himself, it filled him with sadness and sympathy for her.

"Who can tell," said he to himself, "but I may cheer her a little, and perhaps, by a little timely sympathy, save her from repining at her hard lot? Possibly, too, I may be able to throw some light upon the rugged pathway along which she is going to a better world." The judge loved to do good; it was a great luxury to him. So, taking a well-filled basket, and making sure that his purse was stored with convenient small change, he sallied forth to visit the sufferer.

As the door opened, he was struck with the air of neatness in the cabin. If she was herself bedridden, some kind hand had evidently been at work for her: everything was in order, swept, and neat. "Not so desolate, after all," thought the visitor.

But again, as the judge looked around, and contrasted the social joys of his own ample mansion, where the voice of children and of music, as well as the presence of books and friends, made all cheerful and happy, with the solitude, broken only by one or another calling to speak a kind word to the old African, his heart was filled with sadness and kindly emotion. Seating himself on the stool at the side of the bed, he began to speak in words of condolence :

"It must be hard for you, Nancy, to be shut up here alone so many days and weeks?"

"O, no, tank God! Massa Judge, the good Lord keeps me from feelin' bad. I'se happy now as ever I was in all my days."

"But, Naney, lying here from morning till night, and from night till morning, and racked with pain, dependent upon others for everything, do you not get tired and downhearted, and think your lot a hard one to bear?"

"Well, I'se 'pendent on others, dat's sure, 'deed I is; an' I was allers used to have something to give to de poor, an' to de missionary, too, an' to de minister. But den I'se no poorer dan my good Lord was when He was here in de worl', and I'se nebber suffer half so much yet as He suffer for me on de cross. I'se berry happy when I tink of dese tings." "But, Nancy, you are all alone here!"

"Yes, massa, I'se all alone, dat's true. But den Jesus is here, too, all de time. I'm nebber alone, no how; and He's good company." "But how do you feel when you think about death? What if you should die here, and no one be with you, some night?"

"O, Massa Judge, I 'spect to! I 'spect nothing else, but jes' to go off all alone here, some night, as you say, or some day. But it's all one, night or day, to Nancy: and den, massa, I 'spect I'll not go alone, arter all; for Jesus says, in de blessed Book, 'I'll come an' take you to Myself, dat where I am, dare you may be also:' an' I believe Him. I'se not afraid to die alone."

"But, Nancy, sometimes, when I think of dying, I am filled with trouble; I think how bad I am; what a sinner and how unfit for heaven; and I think now, what if I should die suddenly, just as I am, what would become of me? Are you not afraid to die and

presence of a holy God?"

go into the

“O! no, massa, 'deed I'se not."

"Why not, Nancy?"

"O, massa, I was 'fraid, berry much.

When I was fust injer [injured]

I see I mus' die. I tought, how can such a sinner as I is ever go into

a holy place as de New Jerusalem is? An' I was miseble: O, I was miseble 'deed, sure! But den, by and by, after a while, I jis tought I mus' trus' myself to de blessed Jesus to make me ready for de kingdom, jis as I did for Him to forgib all my sins. I know now He will make me all ready, pure and white, for de New Jerusalem above. I love to tink about de time when I shall come to 'pear befo' the Father's throne, wid Him in glory."

For a moment the judge sat in silence, admiring the power of grace, but not yet himself deeply affected by what he had heard. A little

pressure more was required-another close question-to bring out the words destined to pierce his own soul.

"Well, Nancy," said he, resuming the conversation, "one thing more let me ask you; do you never complain?"

"Complain? O, now, Massa Judge! Complain, do you say, massa? Why, who should such a one as I is complain ob? The good Lord, He knows bes' what's bes' for poor Nancy. His will be done!"

Nancy said this in tones of the deepest sincerity,-and a little more. There was just a shade of wonder at the question, as much as to say, "What! you, an officer in the church, a man of education, a judge, and yet think that a poor creature like me might complain of the dealings of a merciful God and Saviour like mine!"

The arrow took effect. The judge bowed his head in silence a moment, and then rose, and bade Nancy good-bye,-without the word of consolation and prayer which he fully purposed when he went into the cabin. All the way home he kept saying to himself, "Well, I never yet said, His will be done' in that way: I never felt it. Alone, poor, helpless, bedridden, dependent; miserable in body, and yet happy as an angel! Ah! there is a power there I never felt; but I must feel it; and, God helping me, I will. Not afraid to die; trusting in Jesus to purify her from all sin, and present her spotless before God: waiting joyously His summons. O, blessed faith! I must know more of this, and I will!

Two weeks, night and day, the arrow remained fixed in the judge's soul. His mental anguish increased; sleep forsook him; and his family became alarmed. The struggle continued for some time, but was followed by a renewal of his peace with God, and an ability to say, as he had never done before, "Thy will be done." X.

A WORD FOR MOTHERS.

WE cannot help frequently noticing, as we read the various articles in various publications designed for the instruction and encouragement of mothers, how many of them, almost all, we might say, presuppose an abundance of leisure on the part of the mothers, and attentive, considerate minds on the part of the children, who only need the fitting word to make them acquiesce cheerfully and obey with alacrity. One writer says, "Give your children a reason for what you require of them, not require unquestioning obedience, as if a dumb animal." Now while

we are earnest advocates for mothers conversing and reasoning with their children, and by all possible means cultivating the understanding, there is a time when and a place where to give children reasons, and there is not a mother who has had any experience with child-nature who does not know that while a good reason, pleasantly given, will have great effect in producing cheerful obedience with certain children, upon certain other children of the same family it may be the giving of a reason is the opening of an argument, which may be prolonged indefinitely; for a child's illogical mind does not know when it is conquered in argument, but rambles off wide of the mark only to return anew to the charge, if his inclination shall so suggest. If the obedience is to be delayed till the child is convinced that the mother is right, or her reasons are made satisfactory to him, it might as well be deferred altogether. Let obedience come first unquestioning; then if there is time or a suitable opportunity, let the reason for the requirement be given; but give some children a reason, and you give them instantly a weapon with which to defend themselves, or attack you.

"John," says Mrs. Gray, some morning just before school-time, “I want you to wear your old overcoat to-day."

"Why, mother?"

"Because I think it will rain before noon."

"Oh, mother, I don't believe it's going to rain. I saw a bit of blue sky just now."

"The sky was very red this morning, and it is quite damp now, my son."

"Why, mother, only the other night you said it would be pleasant next day because the sky was red, and now you say it will rain because the sky is red," says John.

Now what is Mrs. Gray to do? It is already school-time, and is she to stop to explain the phenomena of red skies to her arguing boy, who would in the end be no better convinced than when she began? for the secret of his opposition lies not in his disbelief that it is going to rain, but in his aversion to wearing the old coat. Who cannot see that it would have been better to have given no reason for requiring him to wear it, but simply and firmly said,

"John, I want you to wear your old coat to-day."

Mrs. Holmes is very busy preparing the evening meal. Two of her children are studying the next day's lessons; she notices that one holds the book too near her eyes, while the other stoops in a most unhealthy position. She speaks to both for these faults, and both ask the reason why. She is too busy to stop to explain then, and if she did she knows very well that though her reasons given at length would convince and