are a development of the traditions of the ancient imperial city, with certain old roots of heathenism which remain in the soil.'

R. You isolate yourselves from the rest of Christendom.' A.-'Nay, it is you who do so. We honour your holy men. you refuse to honour ours. We also honour the saints of the Eastern

Church, whom you ignore.'

At this moment the train slackened, for we were approaching the white villas and palm-trees of Bordighera, which was my destination. We refrained from further controversy, and interchanged a few amicable words of hope that God would accept the service of all who love Him. Our conversation closed with repeating together the words of Augustine: In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas. In necessary things unity, in doubtful things liberty, in all things charity.'

SEED-TIME AND HARVEST.

"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

'He that now goeth on his way weeping, and beareth forth good seed, shall doubtless come again with joy, and bring his sheaves with him.-Ps. cxxvi. 6, 7.

SANG it once with a faltering voice, Which scarce could whisper the words I said;

The reapers truly might well rejoice, But sad were the tears the sower shed.

Yet I knew that the words of my Lord the King

Stedfast and faithful must ever abide; So through all my sorrow I strove to sing,

But I hungered sore for the Harvesttide!

I sing it now with a 'merrie heart,'
Whose music drowns the words I say;
Like the mists of the morning my
doubts depart,

In the glorious Light of the Perfect
Day!

I cannot say that I bear my sheaves,'
I have nothing to offer, and nought
to bring;

My life has no treasure save what it receives

In the measureless love of my Lord the King!

But the Lord of the Harvest hath plenteous store;

It was He who gave me the fruitful seed,

And I ask Him now of His grace to

pour

His hundred-fold' on my utter

need.

¡N the annals of Russia two figures stand out from the line of princes and czars with such vivid prominence as to throw all others into the background. They are Ivan the Terrible and Peter the Great. The first consolidated the nation, and began its course of conquest and annexation. The second brought Russia within the pale of European civilisation, and carried on the work of enlarging the empire. Ivan represents the half-savage Russia of the ancient line of Rurick: with Peter the modern history of the empire begins.

Peter the Great was born at Moscow, on the 11th of June, 1672. His father, Alexis, of the family of Romanoff, established silk and linen manufactories, improved the laws of his country, and colonised the desert tracts of the empire with the captives taken in war; such prisoners having, before his reign, been the slaves of those to whose lot they fell.

Alexis was twice married; by his first wife he had two sons, Feodor and Ivan, and several daughters, one of whom was the ambitious Princess Sophia. Peter and one daughter were the offspring of his union with the Princess Natalia; so that Peter was the youngest of the brothers. Feodor succeeded to the throne when only fifteen; and before his death, which happened after a short reign, he nominated his half-brother Peter as his successor, his own brother Ivan being incapacitated by his infirmities.

Peter was only four years old when his father died; and he had been left in the care of General Menesius or Menzies, a Scotchman of great ability. The Princess Sophia, who had been destined for a convent life, gained such influence over Feodor and the nobles by her insinuating manners, that she was allowed a large share in the regency, and aimed at getting the government into the hands of herself and her lover, Prince Basil Galitzin. When, however, on the death of Feodor, Peter was proclaimed czar, she thought her hopes were at an end, unless she could remove him in favour of the imbecile and sickly Ivan. Finding she could not win over General Menesius to her party, she obliged him to leave the court, and so the young Peter was left to the mercy of those whose interest it was to compass his destruction. To accomplish her purpose, Sophia spread a rumour that the Czar Feodor had been poisoned by his physician, at the instigation of some of the chief nobles; and to inflame the minds of the Strelitzes, she said that a design had been formed by the adherents of Peter to mix poison with the liquor supplied to the soldiers at the funeral; and that one of the Nariskins, the uncles of the young czar, had tried to strangle her brother Ivan, and that another had put on the royal robes: finally, she denounced about forty of the chief men in the nation as being traitors deserving of death.

At this time the Strelitzes, or guards of the Czar, were so numerous, there being about 20,000 of them, that an entire quarter of Moscow was inhabited by them, and called the Strelitza Slaboda. Ever ready for murder and outrage, they no sooner heard the reports spread by Sophia than they attacked the palace, and gaining an entrance, threw some of the nobles from the roof on to the spears of

the soldiers stationed below, and proceeded to a general massacre. Through the dangers of this frightful tumult, in which both the uncles of Peter and multitudes of innocent people were slaughtered, the Czarina Natalia contrived to escape with her son, and fled with him to the Troitskoi Kloster, or Trinity Monastery, about sixty versts* from Moscow. Scarcely had she reached the altar with the young czar, than two of the savage Strelitzes, who were on her track, entered the building, and rushing forward, one of them seized the child, and raised his sabre to strike off his head. But his companion was awed by the sanctity of the place, and shrank from polluting it with blood, and exclaimed, 'Comrade, not before the altar.' While they yet hesitated, the galloping of a troop of cavalry coming to the rescue of the czar was heard; the Strelitzes hastily retreated, and he was saved.

Peter was only twelve years old when this fearful incident of his childhood occurred; but that uplifted sabre and the fierce faces of the soldiers were never forgotten. Twenty years afterwards he met one of the men, and recognised him immediately, though he was in the garb of a seaman. He pardoned him, but commanded him never more to appear in his presence, as, even at that distance of time, he could not look on him without terror.

Had the friendly troop been a moment later, and the sword descended on that childish neck, how different would the position of the Russian empire be at this time? for there is no nation in the world that owes more to one man than Russia does to Peter the Great.

A. R.

WH

MANLINESS.

HO stands up for the poor and weak,
Nor brings a blush to maiden's
cheek,
Who speaks the truth, and does the right,
That is the man for me.

Who loves to think of all men well,

Yet guards his soul, God's citadel,Whose heart beats quick to noble deeds, That is the man for me.

Kind to his fellows, slave to none,

Who walks upright beneath God's sun, And leaves all cares to careful Heaven, That is the man for me.

Who hears the Church, obeys her voice, Yet leaves each conscience free of choice,

Who prays at last that all agree,

That is the man for me.

Who is no truant to his home,

Who cares not from his hearth to
roam,

Who loves all little children's glee,
That is the man for me.

Who makes no god of gold or land,

Generous in speech, and free of hand,
Who stewards well his master's gear,
He is the man for me.
Who last of all himself would place,
Who wins all by a gentle grace,
Who for his native land would die,
He is the man for me.

When such men die, earth's nations
weep;

They are not dead, but fallen asleep;
Near such a spirit's lay my dust,—
He is the man for me.
REV. A. BRODRICK,

*The Russian mile, or verst, is 1167 yards.

A PASTORAL OF ENGLISH LIFE.

IN WHICH WE MEET THE JEPHSON FAMILY.

IT was the following Monday morning, and the Jephson family were at breakfast in the stuffy little parlour behind the shop in the High Street of Mere. I should have said, most of the family, for one was missing who, indeed, in

his own opinion, was the most important.

There was Mr. Jephson, the successful cheesemonger, a little dried-up-looking man, with a bald head, and a mild, submissive smile. Something in his manner always seemed like a constant apology for his very existence, as though he would willingly blot himself out of sight; and, indeed, he made it his chief object in life to slip through it unnoticed. His wife, stout and florid, and a contrast in every way to him, sat at the head of the table pouring out tea; and even that fine young lady, the daughter Harriet, who was usually late, had just made her appearance with a head covered with curl-papers. Only George Augustus, the heir-apparent, was absent from the family circle. Mrs. Jephson showed her consciousness of the fact by many an uneasy glance towards the door whenever a sound was heard in that direction. Nothing, however, was said on that subject, until presently the father ventured meekly to remark,—

'Do you know why your brother is late this morning, Harriet ?' 'No, indeed, I don't,' replied the young lady, in a tone not overrespectful. It's as much as I can do to get downstairs myself at this unearthly hour of a morning, let alone meddling with other folks.'

'Poor fellow!' rejoined his mother. To my mind he've a been looking sickly of late; and it's my opinion that 'Gustus have been overworking of himself.'

A curious smile passed over her husband's face at these words, but contented himself with quietly remarking,

'Not so far as I know, Mrs. J.-leastways, certainly not in the shop.' 'Ah, you always was hard on the poor dear!' returned the good woman. Not as one expects much from a man like you, as never knowed a day's illness-not to mention a mother's feelings, from having nursed him through measles, as wasn't expected to get over it; for Dr. Coatson, he says to me, "You mark my words, madam," says he, "it's not every constitootion as could a pulled through."-No, indeed!' . . . But at this moment the mother's tender reminiscences were interrupted by the entrance of the subject of them. 'So here you are at last, 'Gustus!' was his sister's greeting. And time you was, too-for there's been such a fuss made about you as never was! Well, I never!' she added, after a second glance at him. 'why, if you haven't got all your Sunday clothes on! Looks for all the world as if you was a goin' to a wedding!'

This exclamation had drawn all eyes upon him; but the young man, with calm self-possession, sat down to breakfast, and began to help himself to some of the substantial dainties with which the table was covered.

'As far as I can see,' remarked Mr. Jephson, the shop and your humble servant ain't likely to be honoured with your company to-day.'