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accustomed hour his horse and cart are sure to stop at the doors of his customers. Now, this old man has a singular custom of crying out in a sharp, shrill voice every time he serves a customer, "Who's the next?" Before he has received the money for his stuff, even while he mounts his cart to pull a bunch of turnips from the top of the pile, or weighs in his scales the potatoes he is selling, he calls out, "Who's the next? Who's the next?"

The other morning as I sat with pen, ink, and paper, before me, musing on the varied changes that had taken place in the last year; sometimes thinking of those who had left the neighbourhood to pitch their tent in another place; and sometimes reflecting on those who had been called away from this world of mingled joys and sorrows; while I sat, thus musing, the sound of the old man's voice broke upon my ear, "Who's the next? Who's the next?" and lifting up my head I observed a hearse with its nodding plumes slowly passing by. Before it walked the mutes with their staves clothed; on each side were men with shorter staves, and behind came the mourning coaches. Whether a father of a family was being conveyed to his long home, or whether a beloved mother had been summoned to the eternal world, I could not tell; however this might be, the spirit of a fellow-creature had

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winged its way from time to eternity, and the breathless body was about to be committed to the grave, "Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." No wonder, then, that the call of the old man affected me. "Who's the next? Who's the next?" cried he, at the very moment the hearse passed by, and the inquiry seemed to sink into my heart.

It is true that the old man had no thought of the breathless being about to be committed to the tomb; he only meant to inquire who would be his next customer, but to me it sounded awfully. A fellow mortal was being conveyed to the house appointed for all living, where thousands have already gone, where thousands must still go, and the thrilling inquiry, "Who's the next?" appeared to be directed to me and to all around.

If it pleased God always to remove the sick, and to leave those who are in health; to smite the aged, and to preserve the young, we should be in less doubt about who would next be called away from the world, but this is not the case; the strong man is sometimes cut down in an instant like a blade of grass by the mower's scythe; the child, nay the babe at its mother's breast, is nipped and destroyed like a flower by the frost. We cannot tell, then, whose turn is approaching. "Who's the next?" is a fit inquiry for us all.

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Is it not a little strange that we should think so much of things which are uncertain, and so little of what is certain? that we should prepare for what may never happen, and make no preparation at all for what must happen? The warning words of holy Scripture should tingle in every careless ear; for it will apply to us all. "As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but a step between me and death." In a short time, it may be said to every one who fears not God, "Thou fool! this night thy soul shall be required of thee." If we read our Bibles more diligently, and pondered more thoughtfully on the manifold passages that bid us prepare for our latter end, we should look around us anxiously, and the question, "Who's the next?" would be more frequently in our mouths.

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It is said that the sultan Saladin had a shroud carried before him, to remind him of death; we all require something to remind us of the same thing, and you must not think hardly of me if I have gently and quietly led you along, by my account of the old man and his cart of vegetables, to ponder a moment on your latter end. Who is the next among us to enter eternity we cannot tell, nor will it much matter, if we are prepared for death by having an interest in Christ Jesus.

There are thousands who have been in bondage all their lives long through fear of death; now,

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this is a sad state to be in, and yet there is no cure for it but a lively faith in the merits and sacrifice of our blessed Redeemer. If God is against us, we have nothing to hope; if He be our Friend, we have nothing to fear. What a mercy, then, instead of trembling at the thought of death, to rejoice in the hope set before us, and to be able to say, 66 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Oh that we may all, then, seek the Saviour with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our strength: his promises are very precious, and what he has promised he is able and willing to perform. "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord."

Let us ponder these things more deeply, that when the question solemnly occurs to us, Who is the next to enter eternity? we may feel no fear, but, confiding in the promise of eternal life given in the gospel of Jesus Christ, rather rejoice, and say, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

THE ALLEGORY.

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"I HAVE," says one in a written communication to me, a dear packet of letters of my father, as well as a broken likeness of him, and sketches drawn by his very own hand, and many other things that he gave me. These are all very pleasant to me while he is away, but when we meet, down will go the letters! Any one may take the likeness, the sketches he drew for me, and all the rest; for, hanging on his neck, I shall forget everything but himself, and look on nothing but his face!"

Now these things are an allegory! At least as such I will regard them. We have a goodly packet of letters of our heavenly Father in the Holy Scriptures! We have a likeness of Him, imperfect and broken though it be, in his glorious creation. We have sketches of his goodness in the changing seasons, and gifts of his love without number in providence and in grace; but glorious as these are now, when "death is swallowed up in victory" they will be as nothing to us; for we shall then see the face of our heavenly Father, and he will be all in all.