OUR YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT.

GOD'S GOODNESS IN THE HARVEST.

"Thou crownest the year with thy goodness; and thy paths drop fatness. The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy; they also sing."

How appropriate are these words of David, and how well they describe that gratitude to God which the prospect of an abundant harvest ought always to excite in us. God has covered our valleys with corn, and he is crowning this year, as he does every year, with his goodness and mercy.

corn.

I dare say most of my young friends have seen a field of What a fine sight it is when the corn is ripe for the harvest! How bright it looks when the sun shines on it! What a rich colour it has! And when the gentle wind stirs it, how it looks like a sea of burnished gold waving to and fro! Sometimes, too, the tiny drops of dew, or of rain, after a shower, hang like glistening diamonds about the bright gold coloured wheat, and add greatly to its beauty. I hope all my young readers know how to enjoy such a sight, for I should think very little of that girl or boy who can look on the works of God, especially in harvest-time, without feeling joy and gratitude to that Great Being whose tender mercies are over all his works.

Now I want to say something to you about the harvest, because while you are reading this the harvest will have begun, and, if you live in the country, you will see the reapers busily at work just now, and just as you see them represented in the print before you. Wheat, or corn, is produced from seed; this seed is sown in the ground, where, after a while, it springs up and grows; and this is the way i grows: first, the seed partly decays in the ground, then it forms a root, and from this root it sends up a reed, which is hollow, and divided by joints, which give strength to the stem; from each joint springs a long pointed leaf, which partly encloses the stem, the last leaf acts as a sheath to pro tect the young flower; as the flower grows, it bursts from is protecting leaf, which then turns backwards. The flowers grow at the top of the stem, and from what is called an ear. In most corn-plants they are packed close together on the stem; but in oats they are loose, and hang on small stalks The flower is succeeded by the seed called grain, which is one

of the richest benefits of the vegetable kingdom-wheat furnishing man with the best bread, and the others forming food for cattle. The seed is protected by a husk, which is the chaff that is blown away when the grain is thrashed and winnowed; it has, besides, a thick skin, which is bran, and if left in the flour makes the bread brown and coarse. The stems of corn contain a little flint, which makes them strong and stiff; in consequence of this, their ashes are found useful in giving a polish to articles formed of ivory, horn, wood, or even a soft metal.

Now, see what a number of wonderful contrivances there are to cause the corn to grow, and how wise and good must God be to take so much pains (so to speak) to provide his creatures with the food they need. And then how abundantly God provides for us. Why, some grains of wheat will produce twelve or fifteen hundred grains, and the lowest proportion on a field sown, averages from twenty to sixty bushels for one. Nothing is more wholesome than good wheaten bread; it is a most valuable, nutritive, and necessary article of food; without it we could scarcely live, and if God were to see fit to blight and destroy the corn even for a single year, hundreds of thousands of human being's would pine and die of hunger. But the food we most need God sends in the richest abundance. He fills our barns with plenty, and graciously supplies all our wants. Think of this when you are taking your meals, and for every slice of bread you eat, thank that God who gives you food and everything you need, and try to love him with all your heart.

When the grain is fully ripened it is cut down with an instrument called a sickle. Formerly corn was so cut as to leave much of the straw standing on the ground; but modern farming is so conducted, that the straw is cut as near the ground as possible. In many places it is not usual to tie up any corn into sheaves, except rye, wheat, and beans. Barley and oats are usually mown, raked into heaps, and carried into the stack or barn when dry, like hay; but this is a slovenly and wasteful practice, by which much of the grain is shaken out and lost.

It was long the custom, through the whole of the north of Europe, to store all the produce of the farm into barns; but on the best farms the corn is now stacked in the open air, at some distance from the ground, and covered with thatch. Wheat has to be thrashed and winnowed, to separate the grain from the straw and husk, and the miller grinds it into flour, which is then ready to be made into bread, or to form the crust of those nice puddings and pies of which you are so fond.

A plentiful harvest is a great blessing to the world; but while God sends the harvest, men must work hard to gather it in, and they must take care not to lose this blessing by indolence, nor to waste it when it is obtained.

There is a great harvest coming for which we ought all to be prepared. That harvest will be the end of the world; the reapers will be angels; the good seed will be the children of God, and the tares will be wicked men who have despised God's mercies and died in their sins. When that great harvest comes, God will say to the reapers, "Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my barn." How dreadful will it be for any of you to have to say then, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved!" Ah! my young friends, give your hearts to God now, strive to love and serve him all your days, and then when the end of the world comes, "Like as a shock of corn cometh in his season," you shall be gathered into God's heavenly garner, and be for ever happy with the Lord.

W. G. D.

CONSTANTINOPLE.

THE present war has made all our readers familiar with the name of Constantinople, the metropolis of Turkey; and, therefore, a brief, description of this famous city will no doubt prove interesting to our young friends.

The name Constantinople is formed of two wordsConstantine, the name of its founder, and polis, the Greek word for city. The name, therefore, is a memorial of its author, for it simply expresses-the city of Constantine. Now Constantine was a Roman Emperor, who, in the year 328, selected this spot for the natural beauty of its situation, and built the city for his imperial residence; he enriched it with treasures from various parts of the world, and made it rival even Rome itself. Constantinople was taken by the Turks in the year 1453.

If the reader will take a map of Europe and cast his eye towards the east, in latitude 41, he will find it situated on the bank of a narrow strait, which connects the sea of Marmora with the Black Sea. Nothing can surpass the beauty of its situation; it is compared to a diamond between two sapphires and two pearls. A modern author, to afford a picturesque view of the city, says

Let the reader imagine himself in a small Turkish vessel, sailing northward through the sea of Marmora. At length

he sees before him, glittering in the distance, the tall, slender, and fantastic minarets of a hundred mosques. After a while, towers, domes, and dark spots of cypress-trees enlarge upon his vision. Then comes out of the horizon's shade an infinite array of buildings, of many shapes and sizes, stretching along the line of the sea as far as the eye can reach. The vessel keeps on her course with unslackened sail; it seems as if it would run aground among the houses on the shore, when suddenly it enters a winding and placid bay, into which it rapidly shoots, and finally drops anchor in the heart of a busy city, and at the feet of a cluster of hills, studded from base to summit with buildings of indescribable splendour. There is the Seraglio, a lovely paradise, gemmed with garlands and bright palaces, and containing every variety of buildings and trees on its gentle slope. There is the gilded palace of the Sultan, with its brilliant gates and sparkling turrets. There are innumerable painted dwellings, overshadowed with cypress and plane trees. Scutari has been passed, whose tapering minarets and shady groves were reflected in the bright waters of the channel.

To an European eye, the scene, independently of its surpassing beauty and utter novelty, possesses two features peculiarly striking. The one is, the close vicinity of the houses to the sea, positively overhanging it in many instances; the other is, the vast number of aquatic fowl which throng the harbour. Seagulls fly past in clouds, and sport like domestic birds about the ships, and on the roofs of the houses. The wild-duck and the water-hen are diving under your very prow and stern, while shoals of porpoises tumble about, and glitter in the sunshine, perfectly fearless, even in the midst of a mighty city. Every instant a graceful and many coloured Turkish boat, with its long, sharp prow, and gilded ornaments, shoots past the ship. Here is one freighted with a bearded and turbaned Turk, squatted upon his carpet at the bottom of the boat, pipe in hand, a personification of luxurious idleness. He is attended by a red-capped and blue-coated domestic, perhaps a thick-lipped negro, or, it may be, a keen-eyed Mussulman. There is another occupied by a group of women, huddled closely together, and wearing the veil of white muslin, which covers all the face, except the eyes and nose, and gives to the wearer the appearance of a living corpse. Now comes a third, gliding along, like a nautilus, with its small white sail, and bearing a bevy of Greeks, whose large flashing eyes gleam out beneath the unbecoming féz, or cap of red cloth, with a purple silk tassel, with which their heads are perpendicularly covered. These unsightly caps were intro

duced by Mahmoud among his other reforms; they have almost entirely supplanted the ancient, costly, but very handsome turban of the Turks; and now a company of Constantinopolitans, in the open air, show in the distance like a glaring bed of poppies.

How is the traveller overwhelmed with excitement and delight, when he stands upon the deck of the ship which has brought him into the harbour, and beholds on every side such gorgeous and enchanting scenes. O glorious Queen of the East!' he is ready to exclaim, thy beauty surpasses all that rumour has reported! One half of thy splendour has never been told to me. O famous city! created as if expressly for the gods, and by birthright the mistress of half the world! Happy the people who live within thy walls, and bask in the light of thy myriad palaces!' Extravagant ejaculations of surprise and pleasure escape from all when they first fix their gaze upon this magnificent spectacle. Alas! how soon will the illusion be dissipated! The city, which externally is unequalled in the world for beauty and splendour, is internally unsurpassed for squalor and dirtiness: at least, you think so as soon as you set foot upon the shore. You land at the custom-house stairs, and after transacting all necessary business with the officers of that establishment, you step forward to find yourself in narrow and filthy streets, among Jews, Greeks, Turks, and all varieties of nations upon earth. Through mud, and dogs, and abominable stenches, you find your way to some better neighbourhood, and arriving at an hotel, are glad to take a little rest and refreshment. Well, here you are in Constantinople at last! the city of handsome, but indolent men, and the city of dogs innumerable, halfstarved, wolfish, snarling dogs. Here you are, in a land of coffee and smoking, of bathings and illuminations, of Mahometan bell-ringings, benedictions, and prayers. Every object is new to you, every sound different from what you were used to in old England. You can hardly imagine yourself in the world you have so long known, and among fellow creatures,¦ authentic men and women. In costume, gait, manners, speech, the natives are the very reverse of what you left be hind you in the streets of London or Liverpool. In your bewilderment and weariness you sit down to read some account of the strange place you have come to, and perhaps stumble upon such a sketch as the following.

Constantinople, including the suburbs, has 900,000 inhabitants, composed of Turks, Arabians, Greeks, Armenians, Europeans, and Jews. The city stands on a sloping promon