able and willing to assist him.  In a singular and unexpected manner he fell in with an elderly Quaker, a perfect stranger, who accosted him with the strange inquiry:  ’Friend, I should like to know if a little money would be of any service to thee.’  Having satisfied himself as to Wilkes’ genius and honesty, the Quaker at once advanced him the required amount.  The praying mechanic started in business on his own account, and everything he has touched of late appeared to prosper.

“Hearing of a field in Ireland offered for sale, in which was a deserted mine, he went over to see it; bought the field for a small sum, recommenced working the mine, and it now turns out to yield abundance of excellent copper.  For the year 1852, he promised to give the Missionary Society a guinea a day; but such abundance has poured in upon him during the year, that he felt that to be below his duty, and has, therefore, enlarged his subscription for the present year seven-fold.  He is actually giving to that noble cause seven guineas daily, or upwards of $10,500 a year, during this year, 1853; in addition to which he has just given one thousand guineas to the fund above referred to.”  “It is pleasing to add,” says the writer, “that this remarkable man retains the utmost simplicity.”

Would that liberality and prosperity might ever go hand in hand.  Often, as wealth increases liberality is starved out, and the rich give far less than the poor in proportion to their means and ability.

THE DEACON’S SINGING SCHOOL.

“I am going out to see if I can start a singing school,” said a good man, as he stood buttoning up his overcoat, and muffling up his ears, one bitterly cold Winter night.

“A singing school,” said his wife, “how will you do that?”

“I have heard of a widow around the corner a block or two who is in suffering circumstances.  She has five little children, and two of them down sick, and has neither fire nor food.  So Bennie Hope, the office boy tells me.  I thought I would just step around and look into the case.”

“Go, by all means,” said his wife, “and lose no time.  If they are in such need we can give some relief.  But I cannot see what all this has to do with starting a singing school.  But never mind, you need not stop to tell me now; go quickly and do all you can for the poor woman.”

So out into the piercing cold of the wintry night went the husband, while the wife turned to the fireside and her sleeping babes, who, in their warm cribs, with the glow of health upon their cheeks, showed that they knew nothing of cold or pinching want.  With a thankful spirit she thought of her blessings, as she sat down to her little pile of mending.  Very busily and quietly she worked, puzzling all the time over what her husband could have meant by starting a singing school.  A singing school and the widow—­how queer!  What possible connection could they have?