KEEPING WARM.--It may not be generally known that, when exposed to severe cold, a feeling of warmth is readily created by repeatedly filling the lungs to their utmost extent in the following manner. Throw the shoulders well back, and hold the head well up. Inflate the lungs slowly, the air entering entirely through the nose. When the lungs are completely filled, hold the breath for ten seconds or longer, and then expire it quickly through the mouth. After repeating this exercise while one is chilly, a feeling of warmth will be felt over the entire body, and even in the feet and hands. It is important to practise this exercise many times each day, and especially when in the open air. If the habit ever becomes universal, then consumption and many other diseases will rarely, if ever, be heard of. Not only while practising the breathing exercise must the clothing be loose over the chest, but beginners will do well to remember, in having their clothing fitted, to allow for the permanent expansion of one, two, and even three inches, which will eventually follow.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE NOW FELT THAT SHE HAD LOST HER WAY." (_See page 122._)]

LOST AND FOUND.

A TRUE STORY FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

Little Janet Bruce lived in a pretty village in Scotland. Near to her home was a large wood. If you were to go into it without a guide, you might go on for miles before you could find your way out of it. In some places no path is to be seen, and tall trees and creeping plants cast a deep shadow over the ground.

Janet was the only child of a poor widow. Her father had come to the village from a distant part of the country in search of work; but he had not been there long before he fell ill and died. It was a sad loss to Janet and her mother, but G.o.d, who looks in pity on the widow and fatherless, raised up for them many kind friends.

It was one evening, late in the autumn, that Janet sat at the door of her mother's cottage. She had been told never to go far away from the house, lest she should be lost. But on this evening, as she looked over the fields, she saw some bright blue flowers near a bush; and as she was very fond of making little nosegays of wild blossoms, she thought she should like to pluck them. When these were gathered, there was still further away a hedge with shining buds. "Oh," said she, "I should like to have them to put with my blue flowers." In a moment she sprang towards them, when a little bird was startled from its nest in the hedge. "What a pretty creature!" she cried. "How I should like to see where it will fly to!" And so she ran towards it, but the bird could fly much faster than she could run. Soon it flew into the wood, and Janet followed after it.

Thus we see how one wrong step leads to another. Dear children, beware of the first temptation to acts of disobedience.

It was a cool evening, and the wind blew among the trees. A little rain had begun to fall, and there were signs of a stormy night. Where had little Janet wandered to? and where could she find a shelter should there be a storm?

The sun now sank behind the hills, and night came on. Then it was dark--quite dark; and her young heart beat quickly as the wind moaned among the trees. She now felt that she had lost her way, and then sat down to weep. She thought what a naughty child she had been in not obeying her mother.

At last she cried herself to sleep. As soon as the daylight came again, she awoke, and felt very hungry. But there was no nice breakfast ready for her, and no loving mother to kiss her. She was alone in that great wood.

Janet thought that it was no use for her to sit still, so she rose up, and walked on, but not so fast as before, for her feet were cold, her legs were stiff from lying on the damp ground, and she was weak from want of food. Yet the more she went forward, the further she was from home, for she was going quite another way from that path which led to her mother's cottage.

After a time she came to a place where she saw some dark-looking people seated on the outside of a little tent or camp. These were gipsies. At first she was afraid; but what was a little girl to do in that wide wood? So, thinking that they might be kind to her, she went to them, and told how she was lost.

They told Janet to sit down by their fire, and then they gave her some food out of a large iron kettle that hung from three upright sticks. The poor girl stopped with them all that day, and at night she cried, and asked them to take her home to her dear mother. But the gipsies looked at one another, and then spoke in a whisper, so that she might not hear what they said.

At last, the men and women took off Janet's nice frock, and put on her an old ragged dress. They also rubbed her face, neck, and hands with a dark juice, and then they told her that she must go with them, and she should be in the place of one of their own little girls who had died.

The tent was now packed up, and put into a little cart, and all went forward into a part of the country Janet had never seen before.

Now, poor child, all days were alike to her. She did not know Sunday from any other day. She had no Sabbath School to go to, nor any good books to read. Instead of the sweet hymns she used to hear sung, she now only heard the vain and foolish songs of the gipsies. The Bible, which her mother used to read to her every night and morning, was a Book unknown to these wild people.

In what state of mind was Janet's mother all this time? The people of the village, when they first heard of her loss, went in search of the child. They took with them lanterns, and torches, and tin horns, to sound as a signal, should they find the lost one. Onward they went; some along the fields, and others into the wood; but hour after hour pa.s.sed away, and the little girl was not found.

Oh, what grief filled the widow's heart! "My child has fallen into the river, and is drowned," she cried; "or has strayed into the woods, and will be starved to death."

When all the people had come back with the sad tidings that no trace of Janet could be found, she wept aloud.

Nearly twelve months pa.s.sed away, but Janet was not happy with the gipsies. "Take me to my mother," she often said with tears. "Oh, do let me go home again!" They tried to please her with their wandering ways of life, but she could find no pleasure in them. She used to sit on the side of the road wherever they went, and look on every pa.s.ser-by, to see if she could find any one she knew. But no, all faces were strange. She did not know that she was many miles away from her mother's cottage.

As time went on, the gipsies saw that Janet became very pale and ill.

She was so weak that they thought she would die. They then told her that, in a few weeks, they would go back to the woods where they first met with her, and that she should again see her mother. How did Janet count the days and hours till the time came; and when they once more reached the woods, she clapped her hands for joy.

It was again the autumn of the year, and the reapers were at work in the fields. They were very busy, for they were afraid that a storm was coming on. It was just such a cloudy evening as that when Janet was lost. They had cut down all the corn at the lower part of one of the fields, and had just reached a corner which lay against the entrance to the wood, when who should they see but a little gipsy girl. She ran as well as she could, for she was very feeble, towards them, crying, "I am Janet! My name is Janet Bruce. Oh, carry me home to my mother!"

The reapers stopped in their work, and one of them caught the girl up in his arms, and looking for a moment in her face, shouted out, "Yes, it is she! It is Janet herself!" There could be no mistake, for though she had grown taller, and her dress was ragged, and her face was brown, they knew her again in a moment.

The work of the day was soon over, and a seat of boughs of trees was quickly made, into which they put Janet; then two of the strongest men raised her upon their shoulders, and carried her towards her own dear home. Some went before--men, boys, and women--and some followed after; and as they went they sang aloud for joy.

The glad tidings soon reached Janet's cottage, and the mother rushed forward to meet her child. But we cannot tell you what were the feelings of the poor widow as she clasped Janet once more in her arms. The gipsy dress was taken off, and better clothes put on, and like the father in the parable, the widow said, "This my child was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found."

And so it is when a sinner is brought by the Holy Spirit to return to G.o.d. With shame and sorrow he says, "Father, I have sinned." But G.o.d, who is rich in mercy, is ready to forgive. He will, for Christ's sake, hear prayer. Through His precious blood He will pardon sin. He will take off the ragged garments of sin, and put on the white robe of Jesus'

righteousness, and receive coming sinners as His children. Then what sounds of joy are heard in heaven, when those who were lost are brought home to dwell for ever in their Father's house!

Dear child, through the fall you are _lost_. Have you been truly brought as a penitent to Christ? If so, you are _found_.

Do not forget this--all the while any one knows not what it is to come to Christ for mercy and pardon, he is lost. But the moment a sinner is truly brought to the cross of Christ for salvation, he is found. Are you among the lost or among the found?

THE DEAR OLD TIMES.

It is interesting to look over household and personal accounts of, say, a hundred and fifty years ago. Some of these, which deal with the expenses of Mr. Gervase Scrope, and of his son Thomas, both of c.o.c.kerington, Lincolnshire, lie before me; and from them I find that "my dark-coloured cloth suit, trimmed with silver b.u.t.tons and loops, was made November 21st, 1730, and cost in all 17 17s. 6d."

This included two pairs of breeches. The cloth for the suit cost 18s. a yard; but Mr. Scrope had a cloak in 1732, the cloth of which cost 1 2s.

a yard. In 1729, however, he procured a cheap knockabout suit of clothes for 9 0s. 6d.

Economy seems to have been necessary, for in 1731, "Tommy had a pair of breeches made out of an old scarlet riding-coat of mine."

Boots and wigs were both dear; so also were hats. The squire's window-tax in 1748 amounted to 2 17s.

Only in the matter of certain articles of food were the old days cheaper than the new. In 1754, eight lbs. of veal cost 2s. 4d., or 3d. per lb.; a tongue cost 1s. 10d.; 31 lbs. of round and rump of beef cost 12s., or about 4d. per lb.; a leg and saddle of mutton cost 4s. 7d.; a quarter of lamb cost 1s. 6d.; 22 lbs. of pork were bought for 5s. 6d.; and rabbits ranged from 6d. to 1s. a couple, according to size. But coffee was 6s. a lb., and lump sugar was 10d. Soap at this time cost 7s.

6d. a stone.

Bread was sometimes cheap, but whenever war broke out, the price always went up to a terrible height, and much misery and distress must have resulted.

In 1886, the average price of wheat in England was 39s. 4d. per imperial quarter; in 1810 it was 106s. 5d.; and in 1801 it was 119s. 6d.; or more than three times as much as it was two years ago. Those were indeed dear old times.--_Ca.s.sell's Sat.u.r.day Journal._

POINTS TO BE AIMED AT.

P unctual be throughout the day; O bedient to superiors; I ndustrious in every way; N ot haughty to inferiors: T ruthful in word, and trim in dress; S hun folly, and for wisdom press.

J. B.

ALL who now colour for show will hereafter be shown in their true colours.