FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

The Devil never assails a man ex- Would hardly bear that it should graze the cept he find him either void of knowledge or of the fear of God.

ing when the sun went down, is weav- LORD, what a change within us one short ing when it comes up to-morrow.

THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.

The Children's Corner.

HOW A LITTLE BOY HURT HIMSELF.

"PLEASE do my sum for me, Caroline," said a round-faced boy to his sister, one afternoon, as he held up his slate for her inspection.

"You have begun wrong," said Caroline. "You should have commenced with the right hand column, not the left."

"Well, you do it for me," pleaded Albert.

"I would if I didn't want to hurt you," rejoined his sister. "Hurt me doing my sums? Ha! ha! I should like to be hurt that way every day. Come, do my sum, there's a dear, good sister, do." "No, I can't do it. I love you too well. If you don't learn to help yourself over the hard places and things you meet, you will be a dunce and a weakling all the days of your life. Come, rub out those two figures on the left, and begin to subtract the right column. One from three, how many remain ?"

"I won't tell you. You're a great big lump of ugliness. I don't like you one bit. I'll go and get Tom to help me."

With these big, swelling, naughty words, Albert ran off in a pet to his brother Tom's room. Tom was bought with a few marbles to do the sum, and thus Albert hurt himself.

Yes, hurt himself: hurt his mind, helped to break down his own nerve and spirit to overcome difficulties. Of course, if Albert always treats himself in this way he will be a dunce in learning, a weakling in mind, and a coward in soul. He may live to be one hundred years old, he will never be a real man. If you know any other way to become strong and useful than by bravely facing the music of hard study and hard work, I would like to hear from you.

There is no other way. If boys and girls want to be worth anything to themselves or any one else, they must learn to help themselves. By overcoming difficulties they become strong. Crying, whining, and getting helped over all the hard places, they become pigmies, nothings, boobies, babies, and very often something worse even than that.

LETTER FROM GENOA.

FROM Paris we came by railroad direct to Marseilles. The change of climate and scenery made in this brief period was most marked and pleasant. From the cloudy, misty, smoky, chilly atmosphere in which we had been for the previous month, we emerged at once into the mild, sunny, fragrant air of May or June at home. Fruit trees on every side were in full bloomthe apple, pear, peach, cherry, &c. We passed through an extensive grape district, the hills terraced to the top and planted with vines; also numerous groves of mulberry, olive, almond, and some cypress and fig trees.

Marseilles is a large maritime port on the gulf of Lyons. The harbour is sufficient for 1200 ships, although the entrance is so narrow as to admit but one ship at a time. We visited the fine public gardens, laid out in beautiful beds of flowers of every hue, the walks lined with shade and ornamental trees. Then by the road cut in the rock we had a good view of the harbour, and from a lofty tower on a hill a commanding prospect of the city and adjacent country. The population of this city is more mixed than any we have noticed before. Its proximity to Africa, from which it is separated only by the Mediterranean, and the subjugation of Algiers by the French, tend, of course, to this result. It is a place of large trade and commerce.

From Marseilles to Nice we passed through a pleasant country, variegated and mostly fertile. Groves of olive, almond, orange, fig, &c., abound, especially the former. Being now in the latitude of the countries described in Scripture, we are forcibly reminded of familiar passages, as Habakkuk iii. 17; Isaiah v. 1. Also the distaff in the hands of the women, as mentioned in Proverbs xxxi. 19. Near Nice we entered a large grove of orange trees richly laden with their golden harvest, from which we picked and ate as we passed. We imagined, at least, that the orange never tasted so good before. Lemon trees loaded with fruit are also abundant. The fig trees are more backward, the leaves being yet small, and the figs in most cases but just appearing under them. It seems very odd to see mountains but twenty-five miles back white with snow, with the trees in bloom around us, or the fruit now ripening; green peas, new potatoes, and other common vegetables on the tables.

LETTER FROM GENOA.

We spent several days in Nice, a city of much resort, especially in winter, on account of the mildness and salubrity of the climate, and facilities for sea-bathing. It has numerous large hotels; and villas, castles, towers, &c., on the hills and mountains around. An hour's ride by boat brings us to Monacco, said to be the oldest and smallest kingdom in the world, the present prince dating his descent back to the tenth century. It has a palace furnished in full royal style, a harbour, ships, newspaper, fortress, &c., though containing in all but about 1200 inhabitants. The English church at Nice is large and well filled, and we were happy to hear the evangelical doctrines faithfully proclained in it on the Sabbath.

The ride from Nice to Genoa, by the Corniche road, though occupying us three days, well paid for the time and labour. Most of the way the Alps jut out a bold and rugged front over the sea, and the road is cut into and winds along their lofty sides. Now you go up continuously for miles,-anon the mountains are far above you, almost perpendicular, and descend as precipitously below, the road being cut spirally in the rock. Then you descend to a beautiful valley or plain among the hills. Every few miles you find villages often at great elevations, reminding you of the illustration, Matthew v. 14-"A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid." The streets of these are usually extremely narrow, the buildings high and old, with walls which once surrounded these places, portions of them being frequently seen. At Nice we were shown the house in which Garibaldi was born; and near Genoa, the birth-place of Christopher Columbus. By the way, while admiring the monument to the latter in Genoa, we could but wish that America had one at least as good and as conspicuously erected to the memory of the heroic man to whom | she owes so much.

We came to Genoa yesterday, and are making the best of our brief stay here. The harbour is a good one, and well filled with shipping. From a tower on one of the principal cathedrals we have a fine view of the city, harbour, and surrounding country. Part of the city is very ancient, and shows pretty plainly its antiquity, while the rest is new. We have visited three of the chief churches, and as many of the palaces. These are all richly adorned and furnished. The most splendid of the churches, as we are told, was built by one man. I cannot attempt to describe the numerous paintings, many of them from the best masters,

THE SINGING COBBLER OF HAMBURG.

representing scenes in sacred or classical history, mythology, portraits, landscapes. The royal palace, one of the residences of Victor Emmanuel, contains a fine portrait of the king, and also of his father and mother; and among others an excellent painting of the resurrection of Lazarus, by Michael Angelo. The royal apartments are well furnished, though not so expensively as the palace of the prince of little Monacco. Hereafter I may have opportunity to give at length my impressions, as I shall take more time to visit some of the most attractive churches and palaces in other cities.

I should not omit to mention an excursion we made yesterday to the villa of a nobleman about seven miles from this place. It is owned and occupied by the Marquis Pallanicini, who has fitted it up at an expense of nearly a million of money. The gardens are very extensive and beautiful, the park is planted with laurel, India pines, and various tropical trees, and rare plants and flowers. Connected with the park and garden is an extensive mountain landscape, dotted with houses and gardens, of picturesque appearance. But the most interesting to the visitor is the grotto of stalactites, with its numerous subterranean, winding passages, an artificial lake, where by boat you are conveyed into the midst of cascades, temples, statuary, flowers, to a truly fairy scene. The guide is wont to treat his visitors to exciting sport by inviting them to a beautiful bower, which suddenly becomes a merry shower bath, and if you attempt to escape a jet of water meets you at every turn. One of the party is induced to take a swing in an easy chair, but is no sooner seated than he finds himself the centre of cross fires of water; and while the rest are laughing at his dilemma, they, too, find jets playing on them from every direction, and from which there is no escape. It is, however, but a sprinkling you get, and richly enjoy, especially in a hot dusty day.

THE SINGING COBBLER OF HAMBURG.

ONE fine summer's evening, whilst crowds of artisans passed through the streets of Hamburg on their way to hear the music in Altona, an old shoemaker, sitting under a shade before his door, was busily engaged with a shoe. He rested from his work, singing one of the most beautiful psalms in old German, scarcely