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THE POWER OF THE IDOLS LOST.

N the Scriptures we read humiliating accounts of the idolatry of ancient nations, and were it not that idolatry exists at the present day as a matter of fact, no doubt many would refuse to credit those accounts, for the ignorance and debasement which are necessarily implied in such are so extreme, that it is difficult to conceive how men, who are not reduced to a state of idiocy, could ever be so blinded as to worship a thing which they themselves have formed. Yet so it is; and this degradation is one of the fruits of sin. The "Missionary News" informs us that an idolatrous procession was passing through a village in the South of India; it consisted of about 140 persons, all worshippers of Rama, which is one of the most popular of the Hindoo gods, and of these they have very many. Besides the three principal gods, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, it is estimated that they have 300,000,000 other deities, so that they have gods many and lords many. Thirty of the number in the procession had guns; ten carried spears; twenty had swords; six carried bows and arrows, and ten held in their hands daggers.

In the midst of this crowd of worshippers came eight men, carrying a palanquin—a covered carriage borne on the shoulders of men,— containing their copper images. One was Rama; another, his wife, and the third, his brother. These idols were dressed with clothes and ornamented with flowers. Near them were stationed men with fans, to keep off the flies and dust; others had small bells in their hands; others tambourines, which they were playing to amuse the gods; and others again were clapping their hands, and crying out, "Narrainu-Govindu-Hurree-Hurree-protect us!" In this way they entered the village, and, as they proceeded, the faithful teacher of the village boldly addressed them:-O, foolish men, why do you bring your senseless idols here, with those emblems of authority? Why are these vain offerings and this incense? What benefit can the god derive from these ?"

After this, six of the worshippers stood still and paid homage to the idol, crying out, "O, Swami, Rama, Rama!" They then made a great noise with their musical instruments to inspire dread in the

minds of the people of the village, and lead them to offer something to the idol. The teacher, undaunted by this attempt to defeat his purpose, again said :—" What authority has Rama to send you here, endeavouring to frighten the people? Rama has no strength to punish us. He would not help his younger brother, much less can he help us; he is dead long ago. Why should we care for him?" He then exorted them to leave off such vain worship, and trust in the true God.

All this time the people of the village stood still, and would not offer anything to the idol; and the idol worshippers, seeing it was of no use waiting any longer, retired from the village sadly disappointed. One of the tambourine players stayed behind to talk to the teacher, and was exhorted to throw away such false refuges.

India has a population of about 200,000,000, and there is not one Primitive Methodist missionary there. Can we do nothing for that great country? About 150,000,000 of this population are British subjects; not our fellow countrymen, it is true, but placed under the authority of our own queen. Is not the grand design of Providence in this, that British Christians may, having the advantage of British protection, proclaim the gospel among those teeming millions?

THE ONE TALENT.

JOHNNIE NORRIS was sitting on a bench in the school-room, crying.

It

was noon, and the pupils had gone to lunch. Johnnie was weary and hungry. The more he tried to learn his grammar lesson, the more puzzling it became. All the others had managed to recite the lesson, though several said they did not understand it. He could neither understand nor remember.

He knew he was the most stupid child in the school. He had been told that dozens of times. He knew he gave silly answers, by the frown of the teacher and the smiles of the scholars.

He had been kept in over and over again when he tried to learn his lessons, and had longed to get out of the warm, close school-room into the open air. His head often ached, because he was tired and hungry and the room was warm. But this day his head seemed more

dull and stupid than ever. The words moved over the page of the grammar, and refused to stand still and make sense. The teacher was busy looking over examples, and forgot the quiet child in the corner. Johnnie's tears fell softly, he needed the fresh air, a brisk walk and his dinner, but his lesson was not ready, and he could rot go. At last he fell asleep with his head resting on the open gram

mar.

When the pupils returned at one o'clock, he was still asleep, but their entrance awakened him, and he started up with a frightened look on his tear-stained face.

'Well, Johnnie, is that lesson ready ?'

No, sir; I can't learn it.'

'Can't learn it? Nonsense; what have you been doing ?'

'I think I was asleep. I don't know.'

'Come here, and let me hear how much you know.'

Johnnie's recitation was worse than ever. The few words he did manage to say did not convey the least meaning. The teacher's hand was already on his rattan, when the lock of suffering on the boy's face induced him to ask, 'Are you ill ?' "My head aches, and I feel sick.'

It is the first time You look very ill, effect of the rattan

'Well, I shall write a few lines to your mother. I have allowed you to go home without reciting. or I should keep you all the afternoon, and try the besides. Now go, and come back if you feel better, and we'll try that grammar again.'

Johnnie did not return that afternoon. The next morning, too, his place was vacant. Jessie Williams said he could not hold his head up, when she called in to inquire for him on her way to school.

At noon Jessie called in again. Johnnie said he was better, though he still kept his head on the pillow, and looked pale and weak. He was all alone, for his mother was a widow who supported herself and son by sewing for the families around.

Jessie brought him some ripe plums, and got him a drink of fresh water from the well.

'I'm so much obliged to Mr. Burrows for not whipping me yesterday, and for letting me come home.'

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Yes, and he said to-day he was very sorry you were ill, and h hoped you'd come back to-morrow.'

'What is the use? I can't learn anything.'

'Oh! yes, you can; you were not well yesterday.'