than faith would better shew the meaning. Then, when we come to pistos always rendered faithful, excepting the few instances in which it is represented by the terms sure, true, believe, believer, no one can dispute that character is meant. Let the following examples tell :—

Matt. xxv. 23, 'Well done, good and faithful servant." Luke xvi. 10, 'He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much.' Acts xvi. 15, If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord.' 1 Cor. i. 9, God is faithful;" iv. 2, It is required of stewards that they be found faithful, 17, Timothy, my beloved son, and faithful in the Lord." Gal. iii. 19, So then, they who be of faith are blessed with faithful Abraham.' Eph. i. 1, To the faithful in Christ Jesus.' Col. i. 2, To the saints and faithful brethren. Rev. ii. 10, 'Be thou faithful unto death;' xvii. 14, 'Those who are with (the true and faithful Witness) are called and chosen and faithful. Besides, all this the grammatical form of many passages in which we have the word 'believeth' is such as undeniably to mark out character. Of this class are Rom. i. 16, and iii. 22: 'I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth;' literally, 'to all the believing' (panti to pistuonti). 'Even the righteousness of God by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe,' literally, into all and upon all the believing' (eis pantas kai epi pantas tous pistu ontas). That is to say, all those possessing the character specified, experience the gospel to be the power of God unto salvation; into them as a mighty operating principle, and upon them as an all-covering panoply, is that righteousness of God which is by the faith of Jesus the Messiah. ED.

THE CAMBRIC HANDKERCHIEF.

In one of the busiest streets of a busy city walked an elderly lady, accompanied by a gentleman who had lately completed his education. Being engaged in conversation, neither of them seemed to attend to anything besides, until the crowd pressing against them caused the gentleman to look round, when he perceived some boys, of what he called suspicious appearance, following their path. 'Ah, I must watch my pockets,' he said; 'I had a warning when last here of what I may expect in your city.'

'What was it?' enquired the lady.

Probably what is only a common occurrence. My India handkerchief was picked from my pocket. "Sir, your handkerchief is stolen," said a woman. I looked behind, and there was a young lad

with it at full speed; I followed, and if my fingers were t as his, my feet were. When he saw that I was likely race, he dropt his spoils, so I recovered my property; and ogue might have got off better than he deserved, had not n witnessed the transaction, and provided him with lodg; yet not quite so, for he had to pay by hard labour for odging while he remained.'

ubtless he came out of that lodging better qualified and osed to pick your pocket than when he went in.'

no affair of mine, Mrs Harman. My business. is to ief when I catch him. Let the chaplain reform him if

y the society to which the poor culprit will be condemned imprisonment!' answered Mrs Harman. 'Ah, my dear rs Harman, 'how different is the end man proposes in the offender against himself, from that which our heavenly gns in dealing with far worse offenders! Man aims only God seeks to convert.'

hardly expect me to stand preaching in the street to thief whose hand I may find in my pocket.'

not. But as we are all interested in the suppression of ld have you and all others alive to the importance of of the means by which these poor outcasts may become members of society, and instead of banding them over ccasion to the tender mercies of the law, endeavour to where their evil habits may be checked, and their intellect

Show me a

'ectly utopian, Mrs Harman, believe me. nce in which any good fruit has ever been found on one b-stocks, and then I may try to act as you desire the next cket is picked.'

mise me that, do you?' said Mrs Harman, looking up his face.

ery safely,' he replied, laughing.

en we arrive at the cottage, I will tell you a tale that I nterest you.'

age (Mrs Harman's residence) lay at the outskirts of the as soon reached; and when she and her young friend , she began as follows:- You may have heard from your t I was once in a situation different from that which I ; that it was, in fact, what many would call wealthy. s portion of my history I am not going to trouble you, save tion that it was then the circumstance took place which groundwork of my present story. I had driven out one ben carriage to make purchases in the city, and was rene, when I had occasion to stop in a crowded thoroughk to a person whom I employed. While doing so, I forhe other side of the open carriage lay a basket containing ›le articles, and out of which hung a cambric handkerchief. shed my business, I turned round just in time to see a itly about ten years of age, draw the handkerchief out; on the point of making off with it when my servant by the ragged collar of a miserable coat, and applying to

him some not very complimentary epithets, was about handing him over to a policeman, when something in the boy's countenance struck me with compassion. He had not only the appearance of extreme want, but when detected in the theft hung his head with shame, a burning blush spreading over his wasted and pallid features. “No, no, John," I cried, "do not give him up to the police. Let us try if we cannot do something better for him than that."

'It was in vain that John declared the little vagabond deserved nothing but the jail. I resolved to have my own way, and to make an experiment with this unfortunate child. I told him where I lived, promising him a good dinner and a coat if he would come to my house that evening. It would have amused you had you seen my servant's face when he heard me inviting a thief to my house, and promising him a reward for coming; predicting that I should soon have a visit from a gang of housebreakers, and that this "little viper" would show them the way. I promised him to be cautious, and not to let the boy see any of the house until we had proved him. He came an hour after, and had I not been myself watching for him I should never have known of his arrival, for he hung about the back door without courage to knock. Most unwillingly the cook sent him out a plentiful dinner, and I stood by while he ate it, or rather part of it, as he did not finish what he got: when I urged him to do so he asked leave to take the rest home. As yet I had asked him no questions, but now enquired where was his home? Whether he had parents, or any family living? Where his home was he would not tell; but he had no father, no mother, no brother nor sister; and with much difficulty I gathered from his lips the following tale:

'His father had been a labourer, and was killed by a fall from scaffolding the preceding year. His mother went out to work, and earned a miserable pittance, which just preserved them from starva tion. She had died about three months before I met him (probably from want), and he had not any one to look to for a meal but the owners of the lodging-house, one corner of a wretched garret of which he and his mother had occupied. These people would allow him to remain only on one condition, namely, that he would "do something" for his own support. What that something was you can easily guess, and he soon learned the necessity of attending to their requirements. Becoming a regular street pilferer, if he returned home in the evening empty-handed he was beaten and sent supper less to bed; and such had been his life from the time his mother died until I learned his melancholy story.

I was encouraged in my desire to take some steps to rescue him from destruction, by perceiving that he was not yet hardened in crime; and I was still further encouraged by seeing a glow of pleasure on his countenance at my proposal to give him a bed in an out-office, and breakfast and dinner every day, provided he would give up his wicked practices, of which I tried to show him the evil; and after he had done some errands, and what he was capable of doing in our farm-yard, attend a school every day. Well.washed, well clad, and looking fresh and strong after even one week of his new life, Ned C- went to the school, where he did full justice both to himself and his master. There was nothing which the master was capable of teaching that Ned did not show he should, after a while,

f learning. There was one branch of knowledge in which gave me by far the greatest satisfaction-I mean the which maketh wise unto salvation. He attended a Sunand quickly evinced a deep interest in the lessons there His behaviour became marked by so much propriety, tkat I may say, even the respect of those who had known tances of his early life. Still, as he grew up, I could e symptoms of an uneasy and unsettled mind; and on ing him about it one day when he was just eighteen, he me that the one thing he desired more than any other way from the scene of his juvenile wickedness, and to cune in some foreign land. I could not blame him, and alued him as a useful and trusty servant, I resolved to wishes by every means in my power.

en some friends abroad, and to them I recommended He had laid by some money while in my service, was glad to make such an addition as would provide respectable outfit. The morning on which he went d he had a favour to beg of me; I saw his lips tremble -k flush as he told me what the favour was. It was only I still had the remains of the cambric handkerchief which e means of introducing him to me, I would allow him to him. It would be of use to him in two ways, he said; nind him of what he once was, and keep him humble; also remind him of her who had rescued him from his ndition, and keep him grateful. It was with many tears him the handkerchief; it had my name embroidered on he gazed on the letters, and folding it up in paper, he ayers and blessing, and departed. I heard from him in

He had got a situation in a counting-house. He conrite frequently, and in about a year I had the joy of etter from his master, informing me that Edward Cay standing higher in his confidence, and he had little e would one day do well in business for himself. ars elapsed, and then the change in my circumstances y which I was plunged from affluence into comparative had to part with everything except what would enable sh in the simplest style two humble apartments, into ved when I left my house. I could not bear to inform

of the reverse I had undergone, and when I wrote ioned that I had changed my abode; but this would not He begged to know why I had left my pleasant home, I his questions till I could evade them no longer, for he of want of confidence in him, and of keeping back somee ought to know. I then told him all, at the same time a that I was very happy, as happy as ever, and that one antest thoughts was that I had been the means of his rosperity.

veral months before I heard from him again, and one day, çan to wonder at his silence, I was told that a gentleman See me. Not feeling well, I was unwilling to admit nd sent to request that he would send up his name. The ght in reply, not a card, but a small parcel, which, when

I opened it, I found to contain the cambric handkerchief! It was Edward C. After the receipt of my last letter he had been prevented from coming home at once by the necessity of arranging a large amount of business in the concern, of which he was now a junior partner! The moment he was free, he set out for his native land that he might see me. I need only add, there was no service which he could offer that he did not warmly and affectionately press upon me, but the utmost he could prevail upon me to accept was a long lease of this pretty little cottage, with the adjoining garden and field, where I live with every needful comfort, and possessing the ability to show kindness to the poor and the afflicted. Edward Creturned to his adopted home, taking the cambric handkerchief with him, and he does not allow me to forget him!'

'Well, Mrs Harman, your's is really a very interesting story," said her young guest, and it has made me feel that if I had that poor boy whom I handed over to the police, I should be much dis posed to see if some means could not be adopted for endeavouring to reclaim him.' Pennsylvania Journal.

THE LIBERTY OF CHURCHES.-No. 1.

In an article entitled 'The Field of Enquiry,' contained in a later number, we laid down the following proposition, among others, -That every scripturally organized christian congregation is com petent and in duty bound to manage its own affairs, free from all external control.'

To unfold this subject a little now, in order to an after and fuller consideration of it, let us look at some of the scriptural facts bearing on the congregational constitution (as, for the present, we may term it) of the apostolic churches.

We premise only that the original word ecclesia, commonly translated 'church' in King James Version, is not fully represented by either church' or 'congregation,' but that we employ these terms interchangeably to denote it in the absence of a better rendering. Ecclesia strictly signifies a body of persons called out from the mass. We now direct attention to the churches, congregations, or ecclesia called out from the mass of Jews and Gentiles by the preaching of the apostles and their fellow-labourers.

Opening the New Testament,

1. We find that the church' in Jerusalem consisted of the whole body of the saved' who 'were together,' and 'continued stedfastly in the apostles' doctrine, and in the fellowship, and in the breaking of the loaf, and in the prayers.' Acts ii. 42, 44, 47. It did not require more than the believers meeting together in Jerusalem to constitute that particular church.

2. We find the church' in Antioch of Syria meeting and acting together, and Paul and Barnabas 'assembling themselves with, or in, the church' for the space of a whole year.' 'The disciplesthat is, the whole body of them in Antioch, formed the church'that is, the one church or congregation there. An inspection of Acts xi. 25-30 will satisfy of this. When brother Agabus came