THE LORD TAKES AWAY THE CUSTOM OF A LIQUOR SALOON.

At one time, the landlord rented the ground floor to a liquor seller.  The loafers going in and out, especially on Sunday, were a great grief to Jennie and her saintly old father.  They concluded to take it to the Lord together, and, said the old man, “He will be sure to attend to it; I have been young, and now am old, and I have never known Him fail me—­He never does.” In three weeks after, the dram-seller closed his place for want of patronage.

HELP IN TIME OF NEED.

A poor, humble Christian woman had a claim on some property in a neighboring State.  It was in law, and she was summoned to attend court at a certain time.  Having scarcely money enough for her daily bread, she was obliged to borrow the means to take her there, and pay some cheap board while awaiting the conclusion of the trial.  She was positively assured by the lawyers, that she would receive several hundred dollars.  She was detained five weeks, instead of one, as she expected, and then the suit was postponed till Fall.  She was in agony of mind; in a strange place—­owing for board and washing, and no money to take her to her home.  Having spent a whole night pacing the floor and calling on the Lord to redeem his promises, she felt the fresh air would do her good, and sadly took her way down a side street.  She had gone but three blocks when she found a diamond ring.  Being accustomed to the ownership of diamonds in her younger days, she knew very nearly its value; took it home, watched the principal papers, and the same evening saw a reward of seventy-five dollars offered for it.  We can imagine that joy lent wings to her feet, and thanksgiving filled her whole heart.  The sum was sufficient to pay her bills, bring her back and return a portion of the borrowed money.

CAST OUT INTO THE STREET, YET NOT FORSAKEN.

A piteous wail was heard on the street one day, and a poor Scotchman crossed over to see the trouble.  A widow and three children sat on their few articles of household furniture.  Put in the street, when they could no longer find five dollars for the rent of the kennel in which, for six months, they had not lived, but existed.  He had just received five dollars for a piece of work, and was hurrying home with it to his sick wife, crippled mother and two children.  He thought of the piece of meat—­a long untasted luxury—­he meant to buy; of the tea his mother so much craved, and hesitated.  Could he give these up?  But the streaming eyes of the children, and the mute despair on the face of the mother, took down the scale.  He ran several blocks and found an empty basement; hired it for four dollars; enlisted the sympathy and help of a colored boy to carry the furniture; put up the stove, bought a bundle of wood, pail of coal, and some provisions