The method of measuring distances in Persia is by farsakhs, a farsakh representing four miles. Post stations are placed four farsakhs, or sixteen miles apart, and more rarely five farsakhs. Fresh relays of horses are kept in readiness at these stations. The post carriers, accompanied by a single attendant, both heavily armed, and wielding a fierce whip of hide, carry the mail in saddle bags. On arriving at a station they dismount, take a hasty cup of tea which is in readiness, and a few pulls at the kalian, or water-pipe. Then the horses are led out, and the postman starts for another sixteen-mile gallop over the mountain and plain, through forest and waste. These postmen are, so far as I could learn, very faithful and courageous, as they must need be, for they are sometimes attacked and killed, especially when it had leaked out that they are carrying money. Thus they go through Persia, and through life, on horseback. In summer, they have to rest during the heat of the day, but, summer and winter, they gallop all night, and practically have no rest until the end of the journey. The post rider from Teheran to Bushire goes nearly seven hundred miles before he can take a solid sleep.--_S. G. W. Benjamin._ THE VALUE OF WORK. Earn your own bread, and see how sweet it will be! Work, and see how well you will be! Work, and see how cheerful you will be! Work, and see how independent you will be! Work, and see how happy your family will be! Work, and, instead of repining at Providence, you may, perhaps, find yourself offering up thanks for all the numerous blessings you enjoy. COUSIN SUSAN'S NOTE-BOOK JOTTINGS ON THE LIFE AND WORK OF FATHER CHINIQUY. THE COW, THE SUCKING PIG, AND PURGATORY. "_The tree is known by its fruit._"--MATTHEW xii. 33. Mr. Chiniquy died very suddenly, when his little son Charlie was only twelve years old. The boy had been fetched home from the house of a relative who lived at a distance, and where he had attended a good school, kept by a Protestant gentleman. He had gone through various lessons with his father, and delighted him with the progress he had made. They had read the fifteenth chapter of Luke, and retired to rest full of joy; but before the next day dawned, the boy awoke to his mother's heartrending cry, "Oh, my dear child, you have no more a father! He is dead!" Poor child! He felt he could not believe it. He ran to his father's bed, kissed him, pressed his hands, and prayed that he might live. But it was too true. The breath had fled, and only a lifeless corpse remained.