self-denial; or, alice wood, and her missionary society. [illustration] the village school-house was situated on a pretty green, and surrounded by old elm-trees, and at a short distance and in full sight was a candy-shop, kept by an old woman, whom the children called mother grimes. mother grimes knew how to make the very best candies and cakes that ever were eaten, and almost every day she displayed in her shop-window some new kind of cake, or some new variety of candy, to excite the curiosity or tempt the palates of her little customers, who found it a very difficult matter to pass mother grimes's shop on their way from school. one day, just after the school-bell rang to give notice of the recess, a pretty little girl, by the name of alice wood, was seen very busily running about among the school-girls and whispering to one and another. her object was to induce them to remain a little while after the school, as she had something to propose to them. alice was a great favourite, as she was always willing to put herself to any inconvenience for the sake of giving any one else pleasure. so they all readily consented to stay, if it were only to please her. after school was out and the teacher had left, alice collected the girls together and told them her plan. "girls," said she, "last night i went to the missionary meeting, and some of you were there too. we heard a missionary speak, who has just come back from india, and he told us of the millions of poor degraded and ignorant people there, who have never heard of god or the bible, and who worship idol gods of wood and stone, and sacrifice their children and themselves to these dumb idols; and he told us of millions in other countries who are just as ignorant and degraded, besides the multitudes in our own land who know nothing of the bible or the way of salvation. i knew all this before, to be sure, for i have often heard it; but i never _felt_ it as i did last night; and when the missionary called upon us children and told us that we could do something to save these immortal souls, i felt, for the first time in my life, that it was my duty, by denying myself some gratifications and by trying to save money in other ways, to do all that i could to send the word of god to those who are perishing. girls," said she, with earnestness, "i could hardly sleep last night, for i was all the time going over in my mind the different ways in which i might earn or save something, and i thought if all our school were to feel as i did, and join me in this, we might collect a great many dollars a year." here some of the older girls began to whisper to each other that they had no money to spare, and that their parents could not give them money every day to send to the heathen. "now stop a little while, girls, if you please," said alice, "till i just tell you what i want to have done. in the first place, i think it will be so pleasant to form a sewing society, to meet on saturday afternoons, and make bags and needle-cases and collars and many other things to sell; and i know my father will be delighted to have us put a box, with these things, in his store. then, while we sew, i propose that one reads aloud from some interesting book or paper about missions and benevolent societies, and thus we shall all become interested in the intelligence, and be more willing to work and save to help the needy." alice then, with a great deal of tact, proposed the names of those who should be president, secretary, and treasurer of their society, selecting the very ones who had been opposed to her plan. one large girl was still dissatisfied, and declared she would not join them, till alice moved that she should be appointed reader. this delighted her very much, as she read remarkably well; and now all were pleased, and alice went on with her plan. "now, about our laying up money, girls," said she. "i believe our parents are none of them very rich, and yet we contrive to get a great many pennies, in one way or another, to spend for our own gratification. how many pennies do you think go, in a year, from our school into mother grimes's pocket? why enough to send a great many bibles to the destitute. perhaps enough to support a missionary, or educate a heathen child, or give a library or two to a poor sunday-school. just think of it, girls! now i, for one, spend certainly a penny a day for candy. how many will that be in a year, susy?" "three hundred and sixty-five," answered little susy barnes. "yes; three dollars and sixty-five cents will buy a great many bibles and good books," said alice; "and then my father gives me a penny a week for slate pencils. now i am going to ask him to continue the penny a week; and then i am going to see how long i can keep a pencil, for i have been very careless in losing them. and in these, and other ways, i hope i can save quite a sum of money in a year. now, girls, will you all think, between this time and tomorrow noon, how much you can save, and then we will put it all down together, and see how much we can hope to collect in a year?" the girls readily promised, and then, as they had stayed a long time, they all set off in haste for their homes, full of the new project of the missionary society. part ii. the next day, as soon as school was out, the little girls, of their own accord, crowded around alice, who stood with a pencil and piece of paper in her hand, ready to put down their names, and the sums they each thought she could save. several of them thought they could save a penny a day, instead of giving it to mother grimes; some a penny a week, and some a penny a month. alice told them, that if some of them could only give a penny a year, she would gladly take that; and then, that they might not be ashamed of giving so little, she read to them the story of the "widow's mite." and when the girls laughed, because one little girl, whose mother was very poor, said, "she would bring a penny _if she could ever get one_," alice kissed her, and said, "perhaps, kitty, your penny will be as acceptable, and do more good, than hundreds of dollars from some very rich man who does not miss it at all. at any rate you shall come into our society and help us sew." rachel brown said "she was sure _she_ did not spend much money for candy." "no! and why not, miss sugar-tooth?" said little susy barnes; "because you always keep close to alice wood, as you go home from school, and you know that the one that is nearest to her will always have half of her candy." "hush, susy," said alice, "i can tell you that no one will have half of my candy after this, as i do not intend to buy any; and i am sure rachel can save a good deal if she chooses, for our society." clara hall said, her father had promised her a quarter of a dollar if she would have an ugly double tooth drawn, that had ached for some time. "but," said clara, "the provoking thing aches the worst at night, and then i think i will certainly have it out in the morning, but when the morning comes it is sure to stop aching." once or twice she said she had gone to the dentist's door, but her courage failed. "but," said she, "alice, the very next time it aches as hard in the day as it does sometimes in the night, i shall come with the tooth in one hand, and the quarter of a dollar in the other, for the society." sally bright said, their next neighbour had cut her hand very badly, and had promised her a penny a day, for milking her cow for her, as long as her hand continued lame; and those pennies should all come to alice. charlotte green said, her father had promised her half a dollar if she would leave off biting her nails. "and now," said she, "i mean to try in earnest to break myself of this habit, that i may have something too to give." "well, girls," said jane prime, "my father, you know, keeps a large nursery, and he gives me three cents a quart for peach stones and plum stones; and he says he will pay that for as many as are brought to him. so here is a fine way for any of you that choose to make money, as long as fruit lasts." alice wood now reckoned up the promised sums, and said, "i think, girls, if we all keep the resolutions we have formed, that by only saving the money that we should spend in other ways, and giving it to the society, we can pledge ourselves to give altogether fifty dollars a year; and with our sewing society, and the many other ways that have been mentioned of earning a little money, i should not be surprised if we should raise it to one hundred dollars a year. just think what a sum that would be, and how much good it may do, if we give it in a right spirit, and with prayers for the blessing of god to accompany it. for you know the missionary said the other evening, that we might give a great deal of money, merely for the sake of having it published, or from some other improper motive, and if it should do good to others, it would not do any to ourselves; but that even a little given from a right motive, and with fervent prayer for the divine blessing, might accomplish great things, and would return in mercy upon the head of the giver. for, said he, (and these words are from the bible,) 'he that hath pity upon the poor, _lendeth_ unto the lord, and that which he hath given, _will he pay him again_.' and, 'the liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth, shall _himself be watered_.'" as the girls went home, they all kept on the side of the road opposite to mother grimes's shop; for the old woman had a bad temper, and a very loud voice, and they were all afraid of hearing from her if they passed her shop without stopping to buy something. "what on earth is the matter with the children?" said old mother grimes to herself. "here, these two or three days past, hardly a soul of them has been near the shop, and my candies are getting quite old." and mother grimes went to work, and cracked nuts, and boiled new molasses, and made nicer candies than ever; but all to no purpose. rachel brown did say to alice wood one day, "see, alice, what beautiful candy mother grimes has put in her shop-window to day." but alice only said, "rachel, we have now a better use for our money; let us waste nothing, but save all we can, so that we shall not feel, when we meet our fellow-creatures at the last day, that any of them have perished through our neglect, or because we were so selfish that we could not deny ourselves a small gratification for the sake of supplying their need." one day a knot of little girls were so bold as to pass directly by the candy shop. the old woman stood in the door, and called out to them as they passed, and asked them why they never stopped now. "see," said she, "all my nice candies melting in the sun; and nobody but the flies to eat them." "we have found something better to do with our pennies, mother grimes," answered little susy barnes, who was the leader of the party, "than to spend them in getting the tooth-ache, and making ourselves sick; and we have all made up our minds that we will not buy any more candy." the old woman flew into a passion, and talked so loud, that some of the little girls were for running off, but susy stood her ground undaunted. "i'll tell you what, mother grimes," said she, "if you will give up selling candy, and keep slates, and pencils, and pens, and sponges, and all such useful things for sale, we shall all be much more likely to stop here, than to go all the way round to the booksellers." but mother grimes's wrath only increased the more, and as she showed some signs of coming out after them, susy was glad to join the retreating party; and they all darted off without looking behind them, and did not consider themselves perfectly safe, till they were seated at their desks in the schoolroom. mother grimes soon found that it was useless to try to tempt the little school-children any more, so she determined to move off to some other place, "where," as she said, "the children had no such foolish notions in their heads." and now the sewing society was started; and such a cutting and fixing, and bustle as there was, till enough work was prepared to give them all something to do! and then, when the one appointed began to read to them the interesting accounts from the papers, even those that at first felt no interest, but joined merely for the sake of being made officers in the society, became so much interested, that they too were willing to practise great self-denial for the sake of aiding in sending the gospel to the destitute. and now who can estimate the good that one such little society may accomplish? it is like casting a little pebble into the smooth water; at first small circles are formed about the spot, but they widen and increase, till we cannot see where the influence of that little pebble upon the water ends. so it may be with this little society, but we shall never know, till the secrets of the last great day are disclosed, how much good such an association may have accomplished; how many souls the bibles thus sent forth may have converted; and then, too, how much good these converts may have done in teaching the way of life to others, and these again to hundreds and thousands more! children, is it not worth while to try and see if you cannot yourselves do something, and induce others to join you, and see how much money you can save, and make in the coming year? do not ask your parents for money just to throw into a box, but give that which you would have spent in some other way. and then see if you have not ingenuity enough to find out some plan of earning money for the sake of doing good with it. depend upon it, your interest in benevolent objects will increase from the very moment that you deny yourself for the sake of giving to others. think what it would be to have even _one soul_ saved from among the poor benighted heathen, to rise up in the last great day, and call you, yes _you_, my little reader, blessed. try it, and with daily prayers for the blessing of god upon your efforts, see what you can do for the heathen; remembering, that "he that converteth a _single_ sinner from the error of his way, shall save a _soul from death_, and shall hide a multitude of sins." [illustration] _good resolutions._ though i'm now in younger days, nor can tell what shall befall me, i'll prepare for every place where my growing age shall call me. should i e'er be rich or great, others shall partake my goodness: i'll supply the poor with meat, never showing scorn nor rudeness. where i see the blind or lame, deaf or dumb, i'll kindly treat them; i deserve to feel the same, if i mock, or hurt, or cheat them. if i meet with railing tongues, why should i return them railing? since i best revenge my wrongs by my patience never failing. when i hear them telling lies, talking foolish, cursing, swearing, first i'll try to make them wise or i'll soon go out of hearing. what though i be low and mean, i'll engage the rich to love me; while i'm modest, neat, and clean, and submit when they reprove me. if i should be poor and sick, i shall meet, i hope, with pity; since i love to help the weak, though they're neither fair nor witty. i'll not willingly offend, nor be easily offended; what's amiss i'll strive to mend, and endure what can't be mended. may i be so watchful still o'er my humours and my passion, as to speak, and do no ill, though it should be all the fashion. wicked fashions lead to hell, ne'er may i be found complying but in life behave so well, not to be afraid of dying. [illustration] * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors were repaired. dew drops vol. 37. no. 7. weekly. david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook, editor. february 15, 1914. how arthur made valentines by may g. mooar arthur had a box of paints given him for christmas, and he had learned to color pictures very prettily; so just as he was finishing the dress of a gorgeous japanese lady such a happy thought came to him that he nearly spilled some yellow paint all over miss matsuki's gay pink dress, in his haste to find mother and tell her about it. "i want to make my valentines all myself this year," he exclaimed excitedly as soon as the yellow paint was safely back in the box, "for now i can paint. why can't i paint some valentines, same's aunt frances did last year?" "why, i think you could, dear," mother answered. "'course i don't mean i could make quite such lovely flowers as she did," arthur went on, "but i think it would be lots more fun to do it myself than to buy them." "so do i, arthur," mother said, "and i think if you look through those papers in the lower drawer you'll find some pictures to cut out that would make pretty valentines. then you could color them with your paints and paste them on a sheet of note paper." "but, mother, don't valentines have some verses written on them besides the pictures? aunt frances' did. where can i get those?" "perhaps i could write those for you," mother laughed, "if i tried real hard." "could you really write verses?" arthur asked in round-eyed wonder. "then we'll have some lovely valentines, won't we? i'll make one for you, and one for father, and alice and john and clifton and barbara and oh, lots of folks." "well, i guess you better get to work right away, if you've such a lot to do," advised mother, "and i had better begin on the poetry." it was fun to find the pictures, for there were such a lot to select from, and by supper time arthur had a nice pile all ready to paint next morning. two days before valentine's day they were all done--prettily colored and pasted on note paper with a little verse that mother had written, printed in arthur's very best writing. [illustration: _arthur decorates the valentines with his new paints while mother writes the verses_.] "aren't they bee-u-ti-ful," he exclaimed as he laid them in a row on the dining-room table. "they are very nice, dear," mother said, "and which do you think are the prettiest ones?" arthur looked a long time at the row of little valentines and then he said, "these two." one had a little curly-haired child carrying a big bunch of flowers in her hand, and the verse read: "this bunch of roses i'm bringing, is a valentine for you, to show that in storm or in sunshine my love is always true." and the other valentine had a picture of two little boys carrying a big basket between them, and this was the little verse: "what do you s'pose our basket holds? give guess one and two. you'll never think, so i must tell: it's full of love for you." "and to whom are you going to give the two prettiest ones?" asked mother. an earnest look came into arthur's eyes. "i fought i'd send the little-girl one to that lame boy at the corner. i don't know him very well, but he looks kind of lonely, you said, mother. don't you s'pose he'd like it?" mother nodded. "and who is to have the other?" a little hand stole into mother's, and two brown eyes full of love were lifted to mother's face. "that is for you," he said. * * * * * "bob's lost his temper." uncle will, visiting in the family, heard this remark quite often. one day he said to bob: "i think it rather a fortunate loss, don't you?" "what?" asked bob, in surprise. "it wasn't a very good one, you know. if i were you i'd try to get a better one, and then never lose it." good advice for bob. * * * * * going alone. "i'm afraid will have to go alone this morning, harlis," said mamma. "my head is getting worse instead of better. you think it will be all right for harlis to go, don't you, papa?" mrs. wentworth looked up inquiringly into the face of a tall man who had just entered the room. "certainly. he is big enough, and knows the way. why not let him go?" her husband answered. harlis was quite proud to hear that opinion, and adopting something of his papa's emphatic tone, he said, "of course, i'm big enough, mamma. willie nelson goes every single sunday alone, and he isn't only two weeks older than i am. you needn't worry a bit. i'll take esther, too, if you want me to. i'll take care of her." mamma smiled a little as she answered, "no, dear, i thank you just the same, but annie will take care of esther this morning. if i let you go alone, you must promise to go straight to sunday-school." "yes, mamma," answered harlis, very willingly. proudly he walked down the street. he felt sure everyone was noticing him. one of the newsboys ran past him and shouted, "hello, little chap!" and grinned. mamma had said, "be a good boy, harlis," before he left home. he couldn't help feeling how foolish it was for her always to say that, but he excused her with the thought that it was probably mamma-like to be a little anxious and worried about such things. "harlis! harlis!" harlis was just entering one of the chief business streets through which he had to pass to reach the church. he turned and saw willie nelson running as fast as his little legs could carry him to catch up. "all alone?" willie asked. "yes." "so'm i. my mamma can't come to sunday-school. she makes me go, though. i don't care much. let's go this way." "no. i can't. mamma said for me to go just the same way i always did. i promised." "did you? my, i go the way i want to. this is just as good as any," he added cheerfully. "let's look in here. ain't that fine?" it was a display in the candy shop they were looking at. across the window, hung from the gas jet by ribbons, was a huge candy cane. "see that," said willie, pulling out from his pocket a five-cent piece. "know what i am going to do with it?" "take it to miss beatrice for the poor little girl she told about." "no, sir. going to get some candy. five cents don't get much, though. not the best kind. that costs money." harlis put his hand in his pocket and quickly pulled it out. but the action did not escape willis' sharp eyes. "you got any?" he asked. "yes." "let's see. oh, a nickel! thought maybe it was just a penny. what a lot ten cents would get. what kind do you like best?" "i like chocolate best." "do you? why, so do i. say we get some?" "i don't believe mamma would like it. she said we mustn't buy things on sunday." "she'll never know. that's nothing bad, either." when the collection basket was passed around, harlis looked almost ready to cry. "did you forget your money?" said miss beatrice, pleasantly. harlis so seldom came without it that it was noticeable. "yes'm," answered the little boy, almost without thinking what he was saying. he was so uncomfortable, and willie was making eyes at him. "never mind, bring it next sunday," said miss beatrice, noticing the flushed face and telltale eyes, and not understanding quite what it meant. if mamma had not been sick, the trouble would surely have come out earlier, because mamma would have seen in a minute that something was wrong. after the late dinner, there was nothing to do but cuddle up in the corner of the sofa with his books. just as it was growing dark, papa came down from the sick room. he found harlis with his head buried in the sofa cushion. "what's the matter?" said papa briskly, picking up his little boy. "lonesome? too bad! thought you went to aunt lucy's with esther." "i didn't want to," said harlis, breaking out in big, shaking sobs. papa knew something was wrong, then, and by degrees the story came out. papa said very little, for he seemed to understand the real suffering harlis had already gone through because of his wrongdoings. "but the nickel was mine," said harlis, as he and mamma were talking it over. "was it?" said mamma. "what did i give it to you for?" "for the poor little girl." "you can put it back, but you must earn it," she said. "oh, i will! i will!" harlis was only too glad to do this. "and i'll never do so again, mamma." and his mamma felt sure he never would. --_written for dew drops by florence maule._ * * * * * the light of a smile. if it drizzles and pours, is there any reason the weather indoors should be dull, like the season? there is something makes bright the cloudiest places; can you guess? 'tis the light of the smiles on your faces. --_selected_. * * * * * mother's valentines by elizabeth p. allan "davie boy, i wish you would get up early to-morrow morning," said mrs. forbes; "i want your help in sending out some valentines." davie opened his sleepy eyes wide. "why, mother," he said, "i did not know that _you_ were in the valentine business!" "there hasn't been a fourteenth of february since i can remember," answered his mother smiling, "that i haven't sent out at least one valentine. do you know what valentine day means, davie?" "it means sending funny pictures to the other fellows," grinned davie. "first of all, it means a love day," said mrs. forbes, "and valentines are supposed to be sweethearts' love letters. but i don't see why sweethearts should have a corner on love, do you, davie?" [illustration: _davie helps mother deliver a new kind of valentine._] "what sort of valentines do you send, mother?" asked the little boy. his curiosity had waked him up and made him forget that the hands of the clock had left his bedtime far behind. "my valentines used to be made of little pictures cut out and pasted on a card or a piece of note paper, when i was no older than you," said davie's mother; "and my mother used to write on them in her fine, copy-book hand, little verses like this: "'the rose is red, the violet's blue, sugar's sweet, and so are you!'" davie laughed aloud at the idea of his mother ever having been such a little girl. "and then, when i was in my teens," she went on, "i saved my dimes and bought fine valentines made of silver paper cut into hearts and cupids, with what i thought beautiful 'poetry' printed on them." "and what are your valentines like now?" asked davie. "you'll find them rather heavy, i'm afraid," said his mother merrily; "you see, davie, i have found out that love has something else to do besides playing with silver hearts and cupids, though that's all right too. there are some poor and tired and lonely people in the world who don't want you to give them money, or to offer them help on most days of the year; it hurts their feelings. but on love-days, like christmas, and thanksgiving, and valentine's day, you can give them a love gift, and they are pleased. i have some like that for you to carry around to-morrow." when davie came downstairs early the next morning, he brought with him one of his cherished "peter rabbit" books. "mother," he said, "i want to begin to keep valentine day like you do." so "peter rabbit" found himself tucked in mrs. tobin's bundle for jack tobin, who had never had that sort of valentine, or indeed any sort, in his life. and it was queer how all day long the thought of that new sort of valentine he had sent out made davie smile to himself! * * * * * valentines. the wind was blowing down our street, and it was snowing some; but i watched from the chilly porch to see the postman come. across the street to elsie's door; and then i meant to run before she got the valentine- i knew that she'd get one. i knew it would be beautiful, with lace and hearts and things, and pretty verses on the leaves, and tied with ribbon strings. i knew the verses all by heart; i knew the bows were pink; the hearts were gold; the lace was white- oh, what would elsie think! i saw the postman come at last, and elsie at the door; she got a valentine, sure 'nough- i knew she would before. and then i hid inside our hall; and, when his whistle blew, the postman called: "hello! hello!- a valentine for you!" sure 'nough, i got a valentine, with lace and hearts and things, and pretty verses on the leaves, and tied with ribbon strings. and i have wondered, ever since, and guessed if elsie knew for sure i'd get a valentine, before the postman blew, just like i knew that she'd get one and knew her verses, too. i never s'posed that i'd get one- do you guess elsie knew? --_written for dew drops by ellen d. masters_. * * * * * a tree talk. what a wonderful thing a tree is! a live thing, a useful thing, a beautiful thing, and so common that we scarcely think of it as a wonder at all. think of the great families of trees, the maple, the beech, the birch, the hemlock, the spruce, the oak, and so on and on and on. so many alike, and yet each one different. what a world of wonders! in the human family there are oddities, you know, and so in the tree family. there is the whistling tree, for instance. it grows in the west india islands. it bears pods with open edges, and the wind passing through them makes the whistling sound which gives the tree its name. then there is the cow tree, which yields a delicious creamy milk. this tree grows in south america, and often looks like a dead tree, but if it is tapped the milk will flow out freely. sunrise is "milking time," when the natives come with their jugs and fill them with the sweet, nourishing fluid.--_selected_. * * * * * [illustration] twenty valentines by marion mallette thornton "oh," said millicent, watching the postman's blue coat up the street. "i wish he would come here day after to-morrow and bring me twenty valentines!" "will he, mitty?" jimmy-boy asked eagerly. millicent shook her head. "'course not, jimmy-boy. i know only six little girls; i couldn't get but six." aunt sara was listening. she was millicent's very prettiest auntie from the city, and she nearly always found a way to help. "how would you like to _send_ twenty valentines?" she asked. millicent laughed. "why, auntie, i couldn't send but six, either. i don't know any more girls. besides, i haven't any more valentines." "suppose i should show you how to make twenty valentines, and find twenty little girls to send them to; would you like, to do it?" millicent came running from the window with jimmy-boy close behind her. "i'd love to, auntie! please show me right away." "love to, auntie, right away," echoed jimmy-boy. "you can help," aunt sara promised. "you can bring the mucilage while millicent gets the scissors." when they came back with these, aunt sara had a pile of gay pictures on the table, and some sheets of thick white paper. "we will cut this into hearts," she said, "and you can cut out these birds and flowers and paste them on. let's see which can make the neatest and prettiest ones." jimmy-boy had to be helped a little in cutting out pictures, but he had learned to paste neatly at kindergarten, and his valentines were so pretty it was hard for aunt sara to choose between his and millicent's. it was such fun making them that millicent almost forgot about the twenty little girls they were to go to. [illustration: "_let's see who can make the neatest and prettiest ones_."] "who are they, auntie?" she asked when she remembered. "where do they live?" "away down in the city," aunt sara explained. "each one in a little white bed in a children's hospital. i don't know their names, but i'll send them to the superintendent, and they will get them safely on valentine's day. you can't think how happy they will be." "oh, i just like to try to think!" cried millicent. "i'm glad we made them so nice." the twenty valentines went off in their white envelopes the next morning. on valentine's day the postman brought milly six from the six little girls and two from jimmy-boy and aunt sara. they were lovely, and there were some for jimmy-boy, but they did not please the children nearly as much as a letter that came a week later. it was from the hospital superintendent and said: "i wish you could have seen my dear little sick girls smile when they saw their pretty valentines. they looked at them all day and slept with them under their pillows at night. one tiny girl kept hers in her hand. they all send a big 'thank-you' to millicent and jimmy-boy." "next year we'll begin sooner and make forty," millicent decided; "it's lots more fun than getting them, isn't it, jimmy-boy?" * * * * * harold's shetland pony. on harold's birthday uncle george gave him a shetland pony. i never saw anyone so surprised as harold was. he thanked his uncle so many times that i thought uncle george would be all tired out saying, "you're welcome." the week of the flower festival here in santa barbara, where we live, harold drove his pony in the parade. the carriage was all covered with pink roses. there were roses all over the canopy top, and all over the dashboard, and along the sides, and up the back, and on the seat where harold sat. and the pony had a collar of roses, and the roses were wreathed in the harness and wound in the wheels. harold enjoyed the parade very much, but he never thought of taking a prize till the money was sent to him. he was as pleased as could be. "what will you buy with the money, harold?" i asked. "well, you see," said harold, "the money doesn't really belong to me. it belongs to the shetland pony, and i would like to talk about what would be the nicest thing to do for the pony." so we all talked about it and decided that the nicest thing we could do for the pony would be to put a big screen window in the front of his stall, so he would not be troubled with flies.--_selected_. * * * * * flo's valentine "i wonder where i'd better send this valentine." said flo; "it's pretty, and my dearest friend would like it much, i know. "my dearest friend is nelly may; she'll have a lot, i s'pose; she always does, for she's a girl 'most everybody knows. "i want to send it awful bad to nelly may, for she will likely send her loveliest one to her dear friend--that's me. "but there is little molly jones- she said, the other day. she'd never had a valentine in all her life; now say, "i've half a mind to send her this; 'twill s'prise her so, you see. that won't be selfish, for i know she'll not send one to me. "and nelly may won't miss it, for she'll have so many; so i'll start right off and mail it now as quick as i can go." --_written for dew drops by helen m. richardson_. * * * * * how blanca saved the kittens. blanca was a pretty fox terrier who lived on the fourth floor of a big apartment house, and the four kittens were her adopted family. for when the kittens' mother died and left them wee, helpless babies, blanca at once proved the kindness of her heart by taking and caring for them as if they had been her very own. one day a great danger came to blanca and her family, as well as to everyone else in the building. a blue mist began to drift through the halls, there was the smell of smoke, then someone cried "fire!" and the people in the different flats rushed out of their rooms in a panic. quickly a big, shiny, brass fire engine rattled up, followed by the hose cart, and the wagon loaded with long ladders if they should be needed. the firemen rushed in, dragging lengths of hose, the smoke grew thicker and the confusion worse. some of the people were so frightened that they did not know what they were doing. but there was one who did not lose her presence of mind, and that was the little dog. when the first alarm was given, blanca ran down to see what it all meant. but she was not satisfied to be safe herself, and leave her foster babies in danger. up she went again, up the stairways filled with firemen and excited tenants to the top floor, and down she came jumping over hose pipe, dodging between firemen's legs, with a kitten in her mouth. this she carried out and laid down where it would be safe, then started back again through smoke and flame and heat. four times she made the trip to the top floor, and each time she came back with a kitten in her mouth. nor did she rest till they were all out of danger. all the people who had watched the little dog said how brave she was. and so we all say. but what made blanca brave was because she thought of the kittens instead of herself.--_written for dew drops by adele e. thompson_. * * * * * learn to treat everybody with respect and consideration. * * * * * a good friend is worth trying to keep. * * * * * our lesson--for feb. 15. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--christ's hatred of shams.--luke 11:37-54. golden text.--be not deceived; god is not mocked--gal. 6:7. _beginners golden text_.--_the day is thine, the night also is thine_.--ps. 74:16. truth.--god looketh upon the heart. 1. one day when jesus was teaching the people a pharisee invited him to dine with him. [illustration] 2. jesus went with him, for he hoped to be able to teach him how to truly love and serve god. [illustration] 3. the pharisee was surprised that jesus sat down to the table to eat without first washing his hands. [illustration] 4. jesus told him that it was true that the pharisees made much of washing their hands but that their hearts were far from clean. [illustration] 5. jesus told him that god made the soul as well as the body and wanted the soul kept clean and pure. [illustration] 6. they loved to be thought great and good but were selfish and unkind. 7. when they prayed or gave alms to the poor it was to be seen and praised by others. [illustration] 8. jesus also blamed those who made life hard for others and made things easy for themselves. 9. god looks into our hearts and sees what we really are. 10. it is useless for us to try to deceive god. 11. he knows all the time if we have wicked, selfish, impure hearts, no matter how hard we try to seem good. 12. to please god we must have pure hearts and live pure, true, loving lives. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. who invited jesus to dine with him? 2. what did jesus hope to be able to teach him? 3. at what was the pharisee surprised? 4. what did jesus tell him about the hearts of the pharisees? 5. what did jesus tell him about the body and soul? 6. although they loved to be thought great and good, what were they? 7. why did they pray and give alms to the poor? 8. whom did jesus also blame? 9. when god looks into our hearts what does he see? 10. what is it useless for us to try to do? 11. what does he know? 12. what must we do to please god? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). we should all be very sure that our hearts are good and pure; jesus knows if we are true, he knows all we say or do. * * * * * title of lesson for feb. 22. faith destroying fear.--luke 12: 1-12. * * * * * golden text for feb. 22. every one who shall confess me before men, him shall the son of man also confess before the angels of god.--luke 12:8. * * * * * beginners golden text for feb. 22. _he careth for you_.--1 peter 5:7. * * * * * advice to boys and girls freddy's way. when the clock struck eleven, freddy turned from the window where he had been watching for nearly an hour and he said: "guess dan has forgotten to come for me. i think i'd better write a letter to mother." his aunt, whom he was visiting, answered: "that will be a sensible thing to do, dear." freddy worked very hard on his letter. when it was finished, he said: "it doesn't look as nice as it might, but i guess mother will know i tried to do my best." his aunt replied: "i'm sure she will, anyway, the main thing was to keep your promise and write to her." presently, freddy took his cap and went outdoors to find amusement for himself; it was a beautiful warm day, just the kind when a boy loves to go swimming, and he thought longingly of the river. but his aunt did not wish him to go alone, and for some reason dan had failed to call for him. the next-door neighbor was mowing his lawn and freddy asked: "need any help?" the man answered: "sure, i was just wishing for a boy to rake the grass." freddy set about his work whistling and the neighbor never guessed that his small helper had had a disappointment that morning. it was freddy's happy way when he could not do one thing to find another and do that cheerily.--_written for dew drops by marie deacon hanson_. * * * * * a good rule. we have the wisest teacher, and she has given this rule that helps us in our lessons--you can use it in your school. always add a smile or two when things are going wrong, subtract the frowns that try to come when lessons seem too long, then multiply your efforts when the figures won't come right, divide your pleasures day by day with every one in sight now if you always use this rule you'll have a happy day, for lessons then are easy, and the hours fly away. * * * * * [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 14111-h.htm or 14111-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/1/1/14111/14111-h/14111-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/1/1/14111/14111-h.zip) dew drops vol. 37. no. 15. weekly david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook, editor april 12, 1914 [illustration] two easter love-gifts by julia h. johnson [illustration] "why, myra, what is the matter?" mabel had found myra crying in a little sheltered place where the little neighbors sometimes played together. mabel lived in a big house and myra in a little one, but they were neighbors, and loved each other just the same. "i don't mean to cry long," myra said, "but i couldn't help having a small cry before i began to look pleasant. it's because mother could not make my white dress for easter. she had to sew for other people till it was too late, and now i have to wear my blue dress when all the rest in our class wear white." "that is too bad." said mabel, putting her arm around her small neighbor, "but we'll all love you just the same." "yes," myra said, drying her tears, "and mother said that if i would take it pleasantly, and be happy just the same, because it was right, that it would be like an easter love-gift. i can't take many pennies, but i do mean to take the love-gift, and i'll begin now, so that's the last tear." her smile came out like a bright little rainbow. mabel kissed her, because she could not help it, and the two little girls went together to look for as many little spring things as they could find. this was the best possible thing to do. "mother," said mabel that night, in the little go-to-bed talk. "myra has to wear a blue dress on easter day, when the rest of us will all wear white. i am so sorry for her." "is myra very sorry, too?" asked mother. "of course she is, mother: i found her crying over it this afternoon. but she stopped pretty soon, and said she would not cry any more." then mabel told about the "love-gift." "i wish i could take some kind of a love-gift, too," said mabel, seeing that her mother thought this a beautiful thing. "i am sure you could, if you would." said mother. "please, tell me how." "no. it must be your own _love-thought_ first. you will have to-morrow to think it out. good-night, now." mabel thought and thought a long time, next day. at last she whispered something to mother that made her look very happy, and say "yes, dear." on easter morning mabel waited for myra, that they might go to sunday-school together. "oh, oh!" cried myra, as she saw mabel, "you have on your pink dress in-stead of your new white one. now i don't mind my blue one." "we sit in the same row, you know," said mabel, "and we'll be near together." she looked very happy. the two little girls with shining faces went together to god's house, and one above looked down and smiled upon them. * * * * * the mystery in billy's yard. "something's going on over to our place." billy wells walked into the school yard at noon with a face which showed that the "something" was very important indeed. the other boys gathered in a little crowd about him. "what is it, billy?" [illustration: "we sit in the same row," said mabel.] "tell us, billy." "it's--somebody that's come there--" "what for?" "to stay, i guess. acts that way." "friends of the folks?" "no, we've never seen 'em before." "do you mean some kind of a tramp?" "what's he doing?" "seems to be building a house." "a house? well, that sounds queer." "whereabouts?" "in my father's back yard." "billy, you're joking." "it's as true as i stand here." "well, go on and tell more about it. did he skulk 'round as if he was afraid?" "not a bit of it." "did he see you?" "well," billy hesitated a little. "i didn't go so very near him." "that's best for you," one of the boys shook his head wisely. "you never can tell what these tramp fellows may be up to." "how do you mean--building?" "just what i say. he was picking up things in the yard to build with. stuff to begin with." "your father's stuff?" "yes." "what does your father think of it?" "i don't believe he's seen him. father goes to work early." "of course he'll drive him off." "another one came and helped him," said billy. "they were both working hard when i came to school." "billy, you're fooling us." "you can come and see for yourselves," said billy. "you can see if it isn't exactly as i've said." "let's do it." it was agreed, and after school a number of small boys took with him the road leading to billy's home. as they went in by the shady back yard, billy held up his hand, saying: "s-h-h-h-h--don't scare 'em! now--come this way--look up there!" billy led the way into a corner and pointed up into an oak tree. "there--right above that branch--see? they've got their sticks for the foundation, and now they're finishing up. quick--see that flash of blue just where the sun shines! look! look! they're pulling at that bit of red yarn--i put it up there. my mother always hangs bits of string about for 'em. my mother likes blue-birds."--_written for dew drops by sydney dare._ * * * * * when anyone speaks to us in anger, we should remember that it takes two to make a quarrel, and determine not to become one of the two. * * * * * enid's flowers [illustration] by mary e. q. brush the first robin had come, so had the first bluebird and the first hand-organ man; caterpillars were beginning to crawl along the sunny side of the fence rails and everybody was housecleaning, so it was quite certain that spring was here. with it there came to the three little ashley sisters three packets of seeds. a lady friend of their mother had sent them. every one of them had printed on it, "a surprise collection." when the little, light-brown envelopes were opened, they were found to contain several varieties of seeds. some were like little, round, brown pills--those were "sweet-peas," mamma said. others were very small indeed, like grains of powder, and some were like tiny, grayish-green sticks--somebody said those were verbena seeds; and, well, dear me, there were all kinds and shapes and sizes and grays and browns. three neat, round beds were spaded up on the lawn, and amy, enid and ruth raked them over, smoothed and patted the rich soil, and then planted their seeds. of course, you know what happened next. there had to be waiting, watching, weeding and watering. most of the seeds sprouted and grew, and soon the dark brown earth was covered by green shoots and trailing sprays. by and by, buds began to appear and tiny bits of color to show, and then how happy the little girls were! all but enid. she was pleased, but also a little disappointed. now, it so happened, that ruth's "surprise collection" turned out to be pansies, asters, phlox and ragged sailors--all posies of bright pink, purple and crimson in various shades. amy's garden plot was gay with marigolds, four-o'clocks, larkspurs, and bachelor's-buttons--all orange and yellow, blue and purple. [illustration: enid was pleased.] but enid's flowers were nearly all white, and it was truly a surprise, though not a very agreeable one. she had white verbenas, sweet alyssum, candytuft, daisies and gillyflowers. consequently, her flower bed did not attract as much attention from the passers-by as did the gay ones of her sisters. "anyhow, almost all my posies are sweet-smelling," the little girl said, trying her best to be contented. for, after all, to own flowers, every one of which was fragrant, was a comfort. then, there came another comfort--a real "surprise" comfort. late one evening, after the family had been away all day, attending the sunday-school picnic, and drove home in the moonlight, what do you suppose they saw as they turned in at the gateway? why, there on the lawn, was a great circle of white, gleaming like frosted silver. "wonder if a sheet has blown off the clothesline," said grandma. "oh, it isn't a sheet--it's my flower bed! it's my dear, darling white posies!" and, sure enough, the white flowers could be seen in the dark, when all the gay reds and yellows and blues and purples were dim and dull. enid felt very happy. "i like 'surprise collections' you can see at night," she said. * * * * * true love. "how much i love, you, mother dear," a little prattler said; "i love you in the morning bright, and when i go to bed. "i love you when i'm near to you, and when i'm far away; i love you when i am at work, and when i am at play." and then she shyly, sweetly raised her loving eyes of blue- "i love you when you love me best, and when you scold me, too." the mother kissed her darling child, and stooped a tear to hide: "my precious one, i love you most when i am forced to chide. "i could not let my darling child in sin and folly go; and this is why i sometimes chide- because i love you so." --_sel_. * * * * * a runaway umbrella. there was a big umbrella with a pretty twisted handle, that belonged to father, and he carried it down town on rainy days. there was a little brown-eyed girl, who was four years old her last birthday; that was marjorie. there was a mischievous south wind that would be quiet for a long time and then come with a quick gust and blow, oh, ever so hard and play all sorts of pranks on people. then, there was a lady who sat on a porch not very far from marjorie's house. these four together made a story, and that's what i am going to tell you about. it was a beautiful sunny day and marjorie was going out in the front yard to play. as she went through the hall there, by the hall tree, stood the big umbrella. "wouldn't it be fun to take the umbrella and play rainy day?" she thought. so she reached and picked it up. through the door, across the porch and down onto the sidewalk she ran. she worked a long while before she could get the umbrella to stay up. "now, i am a big lady with a long dress and i am going over to the store," she said to herself as she gathered her little short skirt up with one hand, and held the umbrella up straight and fine with the other. walking carefully, "because it is so muddy," she said, as down the street she started. pretty soon a gust of the mischievous south wind came along and lifted the umbrella right out of marjorie's little fat hand and took it out into the middle of the street and set it down. forgetting the rainy day, the long skirt, and the mud, off the curbing she jumped, and ran for the umbrella. she had almost grasped it again, when along came another gust of wind, and down the street bumity-bump went the big, open umbrella. marjorie started to run after it, but over and over it went so much faster than a little girl could run, that it was soon far out of her reach. [illustration: she walked carefully because it was muddy.] then she began to cry. "catch it, oh, catch it!" she screamed, as she ran. the lady i told you about heard the cry, and looking up from her reading, saw the big umbrella go rolling past, followed by the frightened, crying little girl. down the steps she ran and out into the street after the umbrella. "bump," it went up against a telephone pole and the wind left it there. in a moment the lady had it in her hand. "i want it down, oh, please, i want it down." sobbed marjorie all out of breath. "now, it's all right. don't cry any more," said the lady as she put it down and handed it to marjorie, kissing her little tear-stained face. marjorie clung to it with both hands and started for home. she wanted to put the umbrella back by the hall tree, and tell mother all about the runaway.--_written for dew drops by flora louise whitmore._ * * * * * the adopted brood. "oh, look, bobby!" said betty, as she jumped out of the swing, and went running down toward the hayfield. "here comes joe, and he has something to show us. i know it's a surprise." bobby looked, and then he and betty went running to meet joe, who was coming along the path by the orchard. he was carrying his straw hat carefully in one hand, and beckoning with his other hand for the children to hurry and see the surprise. "what have you got?" shouted both the children, excitedly, as they came near. "eggs." said joe. "oh, eggs," said bobby and betty. "eggs--why eggs are nothing to see. we find them every day." "yes," said joe, "but these are not hen's eggs--they are pheasant's eggs!" bobby and betty looked, and sure enough, in joe's hat were seven eggs--olive-brown in color. "we were mowing in the meadow," said joe, "and we almost ran over a mother pheasant on her nest. she flew up right under the horse's feet, and old nell almost stepped into the nest. i took all the eggs, because a pheasant will not come back to the nest after she has been frightened away. she finds another place and makes a new nest. she won't go back to the old one." "well," said bobby, "what are you going to do with the eggs?" "oh," said joe, "i'm going to put them under that little brown bantam hen that wants to set, and let her hatch them." so bobby and betty went with joe, and watched him while he made a comfortable nest in an old box in the shop loft. then he put the seven eggs in the nest carefully, and got the little bantam hen and put her in, too. she clucked and scolded, and when joe put her in the box she stood up and moved the eggs round with her feet, to arrange them as she wished before she would settle down; but when bobby and betty peeped in, a little later, she was all comfortable for her long wait of three weeks. joe put grain and water near by, and bobby and betty peeped in almost every day. one day when the children went near the nest, they heard little peeping sounds, and ran to tell joe. he came and lifted up the little bantam hen, although she scolded and pecked at him; and in the nest bobby and betty saw six little pheasant chicks and one egg that did not hatch. the pheasant chicks were little brown downy things, and joe took hen, chicks, nest and all, and made a little coop for them under the orchard trees. the little chicks were very lively and very shy--not like hen chicks; they loved to run away and hide in the grass, and the children could hardly find them at all when they looked for them. mother bantam would cluck and run back and forth in the coop and call to them, she was so afraid something would happen. at last, one day, joe decided to let the little bantam run with her brood, and show them how to scratch and find worms. so he took away the slats from the foot of the coop, and mrs. bantam stepped out. the children saw the hen and chicks in the orchard grass. the little pheasants ran through the orchard and the little bantam hen followed them. what became of them nobody knew, and they have never been seen since. joe thinks they are still out in the woods, and that the little pheasants are teaching their mother how to get her own food there.--_selected_. * * * * * "not mighty deeds make up the sum of happiness below: but little acts of kindliness, which any child may show." * * * * * [illustration] where the jasmine bells were ringing by alice miller weeks the pine woodland was dark and sweet and cool, and grandmother and little emily were walking through it, hand in hand, enjoying its peace and fragrance. the trees grew so closely on either side of the narrow path that hardly a glimpse of blue sky could be seen overhead, and not a shaft of golden sunlight was bold enough to shine down through the glossy pine needles, as both were thinking. "why, yes there is!" little emily called suddenly, as if answering her own thoughts aloud. "there's a sunbeam over there--right where the trees are thickest!" grandmother and she hurried to the spot; it seemed a little strange that the sunlight should have filtered down through such dense shade. and when they reached it, it was not sunshine at all. it was a delicate spray of clustered yellow bells, swaying from a slender thread of vine, and filling the spring air with delicious perfume. "oh, it's jasmine!" grandmother and little emily exclaimed, at the same moment. and a mocking-bird, flying by, stopped a moment to trill a sweet strain, as if he, too, was glad to welcome back this lovely blossom of early spring. little emily gathered the spray of golden bells very carefully, to carry it home to mother, who was not well enough to walk in the woodland and see it where it grew; and all that day and the next, the sweetness of the delicate flowers filled the room and seemed to speak of love and hope and cheer. "they bring the sunshine and springtime right here to me," the little girl's mother said, looking lovingly at emily. "they are like a small lassie i know, who helps to brighten all the dark places in my life." emily looked questioningly at her mother. "what does that mean, mamma?" she asked. and grandmother, who was standing by, said, with a smile: "you thought the jasmine bells, shining in the dark wood, were a gleam of sunshine, dear, brightening up the gloom. there are sometimes dark places in our lives, you know; mother is having one just now, while she is not well enough to go out herself into the sunshine. and her little daughter, by being sweet and cheery, is just such a gleam of sunshine to her as the jasmine bells were to the dark pine woods." little emily leaned over her mother for a kiss, then turned to touch caressingly the golden bells of the jasmine. "dear little sunshine flowers," she said, lovingly. "i'll try to remember you every day, and be a sunshine maker, too." [illustration: "you thought the jasmine bells were sunshine."] * * * * * the more one controls his temper, the less will it control him. * * * * * knowledge box berry. berry is not something to eat, as you might think, but a big dog that has a very important place. he is the night watchdog of the electra company's factory in cleveland, ohio. before berry was given the job they had a watchman, but he had to be discharged because he was unfaithful, which berry never is. he is well fitted for the place, as he is a big, powerful animal, part newfoundland and part st. bernard, and weighs 170 pounds. not only does he do his duty well, but berry works cheap, for he is counted an employee of the company, and is on the pay roll at seventy cents a week, which is the cost of the food he eats. berry is not only faithful, but one night he even proved himself a hero, in a battle with two desperate safe robbers, who had gained entrance to the office by sawing the lock, thinking, no doubt, that they could easily overcome the watchdog. but when the door was burst open, berry instantly sprang at the burglars, and a terrible fight he had, for the men who had come armed with pieces of lead pipe, struck him most cruel blows. but they struck in vain, for with howls of mingled pain and determination to guard his trust, berry fought the robbers till they were glad to escape into the darkness. it had been a desperate struggle, and though berry was terribly hurt, he had proved that he was both fearless and faithful. in the morning he was found lying beside the safe whose valuable contents he had kept from being touched, but with only enough of life left to give a feeble wag of welcome to his master, as though he would say, "you trusted me. and i have kept the trust." so badly was berry injured that he was taken to a dog hospital where for two weeks it was uncertain whether he would live or die. but at last he grew well so he was able to go back to work again, more loved and trusted than ever. though only a dog, was not berry a hero?--_written for dew drops by adele e. thompson._ * * * * * easter day. awake, pretty flowers asleep in the snows, for this is the morning when jesus arose. each lily he loved in the meadows of old, will welcome the master with blossoms of gold. ye violets, sweet with the breath of the south; anemone blushing, with rosy-lipped mouth; arbutus, half-hiding your delicate grace- the savior has risen, behold ye his face! the types of his death and rising are ye. fair gems of the meadow, bright buds of the lea. "messiah is living!" the cherubim say; shine forth in your beauty to greet him to-day! --_sel_. our lesson.--for april 12. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--the journey to emmaus (easter lesson).--luke 24: 13-35. golden text.--it is christ ... that was raised from the dead.--rom. 8:34. _golden text for beginners_.--be ye _kind one to another_.--eph. 4:32. truth.--jesus is alive for evermore. 1. the day that jesus arose from the dead two of his friends walked to a village called emmaus, near jerusalem. [illustration] 2. jesus passing by noticed that as they walked they talked together and seemed very sad. 3. he went up to them and walked with them and asked them why they were so sorrowful. 4. they did not believe that jesus had risen from the dead, and when they saw him they did not know him. 5. they told him about the sad things that had happened--how jesus had been put to death and placed in the grave. [illustration] 6. they said that some women who had visited the tomb of jesus had told them that jesus was risen. 7. jesus then told the two men that if they were not so slow to believe the word of god and the promise jesus had given them they would know that it must be true. 8. when they came to their home the men urged jesus to stop with them for it was now evening. 9. while they were eating supper jesus took bread and blessed it and gave it to them. [illustration] 10. as they saw jesus blessing the bread they knew him, but he at once vanished out of their sight. [illustration] 11. they said one to another, "did not our hearts burn within us while we talked by the way?" [illustration] 12. they at once went back to jerusalem to tell the other disciples the good news that jesus had truly risen from the dead and they had seen him. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. on what day did two of jesus' friends walk to a village called emmaus? 2. as jesus passed by, what did he notice? 3. what did he do? 4. what did they not believe? 5. about what did they tell him? 6. what had some women told them, who had visited jesus' tomb? 7. what did jesus tell the two men? 8. when they came to their home what did they urge jesus to do? 9. while they were eating supper what did jesus do? 10. when they knew him what became of jesus? 11. what did they say one to another? 12. what did they at once go back to jerusalem to tell the other disciples? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). close beside us every day christ is walking all the way; and his voice is very near; if we listen we may hear. title of lesson for april 19. the cost of discipleship.--luke 14:25-35. * * * * * golden text for april 19. whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it.--matt. 16:25. * * * * * beginners golden text for april 19. _be ye kind one to another_.--eph. 4:32. * * * * * advice to boys and girls the extra step society. the "extra step society" was formed in the martin household when the mother was forced to be on the lounge for some time with a sprained ankle. it was tom who cheerfully took an extra step on his way to school each day to call at his grandmother's and report the progress of the invalid. it was bessie who left her play and stepped softly into the parlor every morning to lower the blind so that the sun's rays might not beam too warmly on her mother's face. and it was wee alice who took many an extra step during the day, sometimes to carry a glass of fresh water to her mother, and sometimes to bring a magazine or paper. "we're trying to pay you back a little, mamma," bessie said lovingly one night when all the children were gathered around their mother. "we don't mind a bit taking extra steps if only we can make you comfortable, so you must not think we get tired of doing things for you." "bless my faithful, unselfish little nurses!" mrs. martin rejoined earnestly. "love lightens your labors."--_sel._ * * * * * thoughts for mothers the care of the home. the busy mother will find the care of the home too much for one pair of hands unless she enlists the children as helpers. let her begin to practice systematics at once. assign some corner or box of play-things to one child to be cared for. a small boy might have the work of putting away yesterday's newspapers regularly, as his part in keeping the house tidy. the small daughter could pick up and dust in one special room, taking care that a second dusting by a more careful hand is not necessary. the motive for doing these little tasks well should be made prominent, showing that the child is big enough to "help" mother. praise should be bestowed, not as if it were anything astonishing and out of the way for the child to do the work well, but as a token of appreciation of the motive and manner in doing it. encourage as much as possible, but do not develop vanity by praising to excess. let their love be the mainspring of their every act of service.--_written for dew drops by julia h. johnston_. * * * * * [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 14148-h.htm or 14148-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/1/4/14148/14148-h/14148-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/1/4/14148/14148-h.zip) dew drops vol. 37, no. 8. weekly david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois george e. cook, editor february 22, 1914 doing and being by julia h. johnston "we're all such little girls, miss lee. we can't do things for people. they have to do things for us, all the time, don't you see? how can we do much helping?" little grace mayne looked into her teacher's face with earnest eyes as she said this. the girls in the class nodded their heads and some of them added, "i don't see how," and "of course we can't do anything," while they waited for miss lee to answer gracie. the teacher had been talking to them about doing things for others, and had tried to show them how much help was needed in this world, and how much there was for all to do. sunday-school teachers feel this so much, that no wonder they talk to their classes about it. "well," said miss lee, as if she were thinking very deeply, indeed, "perhaps there is really nothing that you can do to help others. doing, seems to be a hard word with you little maids. suppose we drop that word and take another. a very great man once said that when we could do nothing, we could still be something, for the sake of other people. i would like to have you all see what you can be. that comes first, anyhow. you have to be alive before you can talk, and walk, and think, and act. you have to be willing before you can do anything, you know, and so we will see what we can do with ourselves, before we try to do much for others. shall we?" "yes, but i don't understand just what you mean," said lucie ray. "then listen," said miss lee. "when anyone does anything for you, suppose you try to be truly thankful. when anyone teases you, see if you can be patient. if others are cross, see how kind you can be. when others are sour, you must be sweet. i really think you will have enough to do." "we'll try," said grace. "that is right. try, and keep on trying. there's one thing more: if you are thankful, say so. if you are sorry for anyone, say so, and if you feel kindly, speak kindly. these things ought to come out. but as you try to be patient and sweet, don't go about telling it. let other people find it out. they will, easily enough." "how will they?" asked one. "the other day," said miss lee, "someone gave me a rose. it was an american beauty. i put it in a vase in the parlor. there it stood, tall and straight, with its green leaves like lovely garments around it, and the crimson flower, like a beautiful crown above. yes, there it stood, and never said a word. it never said, 'i am sweet.' or 'how fragrant my breath is!' not once. but everyone who came into the room, even when it happened to be dark, knew that the rose was there. why?" "it was so sweet. they smelled it," cried the class in chorus. "yes, that was it. by being sweet--not by saying, 'i am sweet'--it made itself known in the room. now, see how sweet and loving and thankful and patient and thoughtful you can be this week. think about being, instead of doing." the next sunday they talked over the week. "i tried to be thankful and to say 'thank you,' when i ought," said margie, "'cause mamma says so much to me about that. it was hard to remember always, but i tried." "i tried not to be cross with rex," said ruth. "he gets my things and i don't want him to. sometimes i kept from being cross and sometimes i didn't. once i slapped him, but i was sorry right away, and kissed him. then he didn't cry." "to be sorry the minute we do wrong is one way to grow better," said miss lee. "don't be discouraged." "mamma said yesterday when she took jack in the carriage and left me," said grace, "that if i would make nettie contented and happy, it would be better than anything i could do for her. so i played tea party with her, and was happy after a little minute, and mamma said 'thank you!' when she came back. then i was gladder still." "i seemed to have a chance to be sorry for people," said fanny. "mrs. bailey, next door, had lots of trouble, and i went in and said softly, 'i'm so sorry. mrs. bailey!' and she said, 'that helps a great deal.'" after all this talk, and more words from miss lee, the girls made up their minds to keep on trying to please by being right, and being bright, and they found, as others may, that there is no surer way to give help and to do right. schooltime anytime. when you have a hard lesson what do you do with it? fret and complain over it? look for someone to help you with it? or do you brace up and tackle it bravely, bringing all your best effort to it. when the school yard was white ellen d. masters snow did not cover the school yard at hamlet so often as not to cause a great deal of excitement among the boys and girls, especially a deep snow--deep enough for making snowballs and forts and snowmen. so the day after the big snow that fell there one night, mr. newman, who had charge of the third grade boys of the hamlet school, found it a hard day to keep order in his room; and a good many of the boys got low marks for the first time that term. how they did hate to leave the white school yard when the bell would put an end to the short recesses! [illustration: how they did hate to leave the white school yard.] "i think it's a pity we have to be shut up in the schoolhouse all the time and not get any good of it--when it doesn't snow here like this more than once till you're grownup," mr. newman heard one little fellow complain. their teacher had liked to play in the snow as well as any of them when he was a boy, and he wished that he had not been obliged to ring the school bell and spoil their fun so soon. when it was time to dismiss school that day, mr. newman looked very solemn and said: "i think everyone of you boys deserves to be kept an hour more." the thirty young faces that looked up into his grew very solemn, too. then their teacher smiled and said: "but instead of keeping you in, this time, i will keep you out. i give every boy in the room permission to stay one hour after school and play in the snow." thirty happy small boys went bounding out into the white school yard. while they were building a snow fort and storming it with cannon-balls of snow, their teacher wrote their "excuses"--one to be carried by each boy when he went home from school an hour late. when the joyous hour was over, mr. newman rang the bell and the boys came up to the schoolhouse and were given their excuses. they thought it very funny to be kept "out" an hour after school, instead of being kept "in," and to carry an excuse home instead of to school. "we will have poor lessons every day, if you will punish us this way, mr. newman," said one of the biggest boys. "this kind of punishment is given only when a six-inch snow covers the school yard at hamlet," said the teacher. the boys all went happily home with cold noses and fingers and toes, but warm hearts for their teacher, whom they were beginning to think was the greatest man they knew. "i tell you i'm going to be up on that geography and grammar to-morrow," said fred walton. "and i'm going to know how to do those examples to-morrow," said leonard king. and the next day the boys all had extra good lessons, if the school yard was covered with trampled snow and the battered snow fort still under the trees. elsie's advice. "now, maud anna belinda," said elsie, "i want you to sit up straight and listen to me. i have something to say to you; something you should be glad to hear." it was hardly worth while to ask maud anna belinda to sit up straight, for she was already straight, indeed, with her hands hanging down stiffly at her sides, and her eyes right out in front of her. "i have some good advice to give you," elsie went on, "for your manners. there's company manners and there's home-folks manners. some people have very fine company manners, but their home-folks manners are horrid. they make all their smiles in company, and just have frowns and pouts and frets for the family; which of course, you know, is very unfair and not nice at all. some people don't divide theirs up; they have manners that are just the same all the time. and this is a much better way, especially if they are a pleasant kind, my dear. "some people get their manners at paris, and some people's mothers tell them to them when they are young. but my dear maud anna belinda, if you want yours to be good and lovely through and through, you must have a good and lovely heart that's full of kindness and best wishes to everybody. those are the sort they have in heaven, and heaven's a better place to get them from than paris, i guess. "so now i'm done. and i will give you a kiss to remember it by." if maud anna belinda did not need elsie's advice, that is not saying that some of us may not. --_selected._ "that boy looks like a gentleman," said poor little harry, looking at that boy's nice clothes and then at his own poor ones. he got on a street car. soon he gave up his seat to a woman, and picked up her gloves. "you're a little gentleman," she said. you can be a gentleman, no matter how shabby your clothes. how the day was changed by mary e. bamford ralph and emma and little paul were sitting in a big circle. there were others in the circle, too. there were the eight dolls, and the little wooden dog that squeaked, and the fuzzy little rabbit that squeaked, and the lop-eared toy donkey, and the tiny elephant that stood alone. so many toys, and yet nobody seemed happy but baby paul, who was trying to swallow his two little thumbs. [illustration: _so many toys and yet nobody seemed happy but baby paul._] in the middle of the circle was a tray with little dishes, and emma held a tiny cup in her hand, for the children were just finishing a make-believe dinner party that had water and two apples for refreshments. "winter parties, when its raining outdoors, aren't much fun," grumbled emma. "it'd be lots nicer if we could have our party outdoors, and pick apples off trees," grumbled ralph. "twees," echoed baby paul, trying to swallow his thumbs. "it just rains and rains," said emma dolefully. "wains," echoed baby paul. baby paul had stopped swallowing his thumbs. what was it he saw in emma's face? was everything so bad? "yes, it just rains and rains," complained ralph dolefully. baby paul looked at ralph, and saw the same thing he had seen in emma's face. oh, thing's must be very bad when big brother and sister looked so sad! it must be nearly time to cry! back of the children was a nice warm fire in the grate. the room was comfortable, but baby paul missed something from the atmosphere. he could not have told what it was, but he began to whimper. "don't you go to crying!" said emma crossly. "it's bad enough to be shut in by the rain without your crying." baby paul cried softly to himself. thumbs were no comfort now. emma went over to the window. she looked dolefully out at the rain. by and by she saw a man going into a house on the corner. the man had a case with him. "oh," said emma to herself, "that's the doctor who went there yesterday! the brown baby must be real sick." the doctor stayed a good while. by and by he came out again into the rain. emma ran to the telephone in the next room, and telephoned to the browns. yes, the baby was very, very sick. emma came back softly into the room where the fire burned so comfortably. baby paul was still crying softly to himself. "the brown baby is dreadfully sick," said emma softly. "oh, dreadfully! lizzie brown was crying when i telephoned to her. they don't know whether the baby will live." ralph and emma looked at baby paul. both children had the same thought. emma ran to baby paul, and hugged him. "oh, baby darling!" cried emma. "baby darling, i couldn't stand it if you were sick!" "goo!" said baby paul, looking at emma's face. that ugly something that was in her face awhile ago was not there now. baby paul smiled. if big sister's face was all right what was there to cry about? ralph went to the window and looked toward the browns. then ralph went to baby paul and hugged him. baby paul crowed for joy. big brother's and sister's faces were all right! "you darling!" cried emma. "let's play menagerie for him, ralph." so pretty soon the little elephant and the fuzzy rabbit and the wooden dog and the lop-eared donkey were being hurried about at so lively a rate that baby paul crowed and shouted for joy. what fun it was to be a well baby, when big sister and big brother smiled at him! and the rain just poured outdoors! but everybody was happy. like washington. "i wish that i could be as great as washington," said joe. "you can, my dear," his mother said, "if you but will it so." "but how?" urged joe. "i cannot do the things he did--to be as great as he was would just mean a general, you see." "a general, my little lad, you can be if you will. a climbing boy can always reach the summit of tho hill. "but to be great, we first must be brave, kind and good and true; and washington was all of these, though but a boy like you." "perhaps," said joe. "i'd better try to be just good, and when i am as old as washington i may be like him then." --_written for dew drops by helen m. richardson._ a schoolroom sweep. the girls at dorothy's school--the little ones as well as the big ones--had to do something that very few schoolgirls have to do nowadays, and that is to sweep the schoolroom--a large room that had to be swept every day after the closing hour. do you think that you would like such a task? well, some of the big girls at dorothy's school didn't like it either; but little dorothy and most of her little mates thought it was a great honor, and they liked to have their turn come to sweep. dorothy had not been to school for quite one year, and the teacher had never appointed her to be one of the sweepers. dorothy wondered why. she swept the porches at home, and mother said she did it well, too. she did so want to sweep the schoolroom when amy brown did, for there were always two of the small girls, each sweeping half of the room. day after day the teacher called the names of those who were to perform the task. day after day dorothy listened with a fast-beating heart and was disappointed. one day lena swept almost the entire floor alone. she was younger than dorothy, too, but she did her work so poorly that the teacher had to do it over after lena had gone. dorothy knew, for she watched, hoping the teacher would tell her to do it. at last one rainy day there were but a few at school, and those who were there had recently swept the floor. as the teacher glanced around before making the usual appointment, she looked at dorothy, and dorothy turned red in the face with excitement. perhaps the teacher thought the shy little girl was afraid to be called on; anyway, she passed her by and called on lena webb--lena webb and amy brown. oh, oh! dorothy could hardly keep from crying with disappointment, and lena came near crying because she was asked again so soon. dorothy stayed, waiting for amy to walk home with her, and of course she watched the work. she looked with disapproval at the streaks of dust that lena was leaving, and finally she pointed them out to lena. she was astonished when lena threw down her broom, and cried out, "you just sweep it yourself, dorothy wenning!" before the teacher could interfere dorothy snatched the broom, exclaiming--"all right--i just _love_ to sweep!" the teacher said nothing, but she noticed how evenly and clean dorothy was doing her work, and when the task was done she said to dorothy, "my dear, you have done so very well to-day that i am going to appoint you and amy to sweep again to-morrow." how happily and eagerly dorothy skipped home to tell her mother that at last she had been allowed to sweep the schoolroom floor. --_written for dew drops by mary a. spaulding hatch._ little white riding-hood. in the new year's box from aunt jo there was an unusually lovely present for leslie. it was really two presents: a beautiful warm white coat and a black velvet hood, both trimmed with soft, white fur around the edges. leslie was very happy, and hurried to put them on. "oh, mother," she cried, looking at herself in the mirror, "i'm a little white riding-hood instead of a red one!" "so you are!" said mother laughing. "i hope granny wolf will not eat you up." leslie laughed, too, and clapped her hands. "oh, i'll go and see granny graham and play she is the wolf, only she is ever so much too kind to eat anybody. i ought to have something nice to take her, mother, you know red riding-hood did." [illustration: _"oh, i'll go and see granny graham and play she is the wolf."_] mother gladly packed a basket with doughnuts and red apples, but leslie was not satisfied. "i can take doughnuts any time, i'd like to take some of the oranges from aunt jo's box." mother looked a little surprised. "are you quite sure you can spare them, dear? you do not have oranges very often." "i'd like to," leslie insisted earnestly. "i don't believe red riding-hood was selfish, and i'm sure white riding-hood doesn't want to be." so mother put in three big yellow oranges, and leslie ran down the hill with her basket. granny graham was a tiny, sweet old lady who lived in a tiny cottage at the foot of the hill. leslie knocked at the door and a pleasant voice called, "come in." leslie opened the door and stood inside in her pretty furry things, feeling quite nice and shivery over even playing that granny was a wolf. "good-morning, granny," she said, "i'm little white riding-hood." "good-morning, my dear," said granny, smiling, "how nice you look." "oh, granny," cried leslie, "'what bright eyes you've got!'" granny's bright eyes twinkled with fun as she answered, "'the better to see you with'." leslie giggled; that was just the way it went in the story. "'oh. granny,'" she went on playing, "'what long ears you have!'" "'the better to hear you with,'" answered granny; which was all very funny because the ears peeping out from under granny's cap were tiny like the rest of her, and did not hear any too well at best. after that, leslie held her basket a bit tighter and said, "'oh, granny, what sharp teeth you've got!'" "'the better to eat you with,'" laughed granny, "i'm sure you look quite sweet enough." leslie ran over and put the basket in her lap. "the oranges are sweeter," she said, "please eat those instead." "all right," granny agreed, "if you will give me a kiss with them, that will be next best to eating you." in her heart, leslie thought it was much better, and while granny graham ate one of the oranges they both decided that the story of little white riding-hood had a much pleasanter ending than the old one in leslie's book. --_written for dew drops by marion mallette thornton._ +---------------+ | | | knowledge box | | | +---------------+ musical hespie and her play. little hespie, the wood mouse, sang sometimes as long as nine minutes. her song usually came forth when she was at play, or exercising in some way. one time she became especially delighted because her wheel squeaked when she turned it. you know how pleased a boy is when his hobbyhorse creaks. so hespie, too, enjoyed the new noise; but it so drowned her pretty little warble that a drop of oil was put in the wheel to stop the creaky sound. poor hespie became quite excited over this change, and bit the wires of her wheel. so a plan was made to soothe poor mousie's feelings. a small strip of stiff paper was placed in such a way that it hit the wheel every time it turned and so made a nice little noise. hespie forgot her trouble and worked at the wheel joyously, making the paper noise and singing her pretty song at the same time. if hespie had not had her wheel to play with, her life would have been quite dull. one time her wheel was corked up so that she could not go inside. she became quite angry and ran in and out of her bed-box, hardly knowing what to do. her rage did not last long, however, and she was soon frolicking about the cage and singing. the song sounded at first like the cooing of a dove; then it changed to quick notes more like the cuckoo; and, after that, the noise was like the tapping of mr. woodpecker on a tree. one of hespie's favorite games, which she played with the children, they called "hauling in the lines." she seemed never to grow tired of it. the children would hold a long cotton cord, while hespie sat upon her hind legs and pulled it in like a sailor, hand over hand. then the children would pull it out again just to see her pull it in. happy little hespie often sang when she ate. one day a small twig with insects' eggs on it was handed to her. she sat up straight in her cunning way, took the twig in her hands, and held it in her mouth. while she nibbled, she sang; so that she looked very much like a little musician playing a fife. --_written for dew drops by susanne c. umlauf._ when we wish to help others, it is wonderful how many ways open before us. our lesson.--for feb. 22. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--faith destroying fear.--luke 12:1-12. golden text.--every one who shall confess me before men, him shall the son of man also confess before the angels of god.--luke 12: 8. _beginners golden text._--_he careth for you._--1 peter 5: 7. truth.--jesus claims as friends before the angels of god those who claim him before men. 1. the people loved to listen to jesus as he taught them. [illustration] 2. sometimes they crowded so closely around him that they trod upon one another. 3. one day in a crowd like this jesus spoke to his disciples quietly. 4. he warned them to beware of some of those in the crowd who would like to teach them things that were not true. [illustration] 5. jesus said people who tried to hide their evil ways and pretend to be good were hypocrites. 6. he warned them that nothing can be hidden from god. 7. in the end those who try to deceive are found out. [illustration: be sure your sin will find you out] 8. jesus said god knows and loves us. 9. he loves even the little birds and all things that he has made. 10. jesus said five sparrows are sold for two farthings, yet god does not forget one of them. [illustration] 11. god loves and cares for us his own dear children, and jesus said that even the hairs of our head are numbered. 12. jesus told his friends to fear no one but do right and trust god. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. to whom did the people love to listen? 2. how closely did they sometimes crowd around him? 3. what did jesus do one day in a crowd? 4. of whom did he warn them to beware? 5. who did jesus say were hypocrites? 6. what can be hidden from god? 7. who are found out? 8. who knows and loves us? 9. what else does he love? 10. what does god not forget? 11. who loves and cares for us, and what did jesus say about the hairs of our head? 12. what did jesus tell his friends to do? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). love and honor god will give unto all who try to live true and faithful to their lord, keeping his most holy word. * * * * * title of lesson for march 1. trusting in riches and trusting in god.--luke 12:13-34. * * * * * golden text for march 1. where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.--luke 12:34. * * * * * beginners golden text for march 1. _he careth for you._--1 peter 5:7. +----------------------+ | | | thoughts for mothers | | | +----------------------+ encourage your child to read. as early as possible let your children be encouraged to read, and see that they are provided with books and papers adapted to their capacity of mind. some parents, be it said to their shame, consider money spent in this way as unnecessary or even wasted. a more erroneous idea of economy never existed. books are great educators. a mother should be more careful to provide her children with good books than fine clothes; should spend more time in teaching and training them than in decking their bodies for show and display. mothers, if you are obliged to practice economy, do not commence to save in your children's books and papers; let it be in something else first. while, however, the mind is being trained and improved, care should be taken that the spiritual part is not neglected. while your children are reading books by various authors, have a care that they do not neglect the reading of the bible, the book of books. +--------------------------+ | | | advice to boys and girls | | | +--------------------------+ treat them kindly. most of us are fond of pets, and it would be hard to find the boy or girl who didn't want either a dog or a kitten. it is small wonder, for a dog is a very faithful friend, and anything more delightful than a tiny, fluffy kitten, full of fun and spirits, it would be hard to find. but sometimes these pets do not have a very easy time of it. only a few days ago we saw a little boy out on the sidewalk with his kitten. he was enjoying himself, but the kitten wasn't, for he would pick it up and throw it across the yard, till poor pussy mewed pitifully. now, if our boys and girls are going to have pets, they ought to learn to treat them very kindly, just as they would wish to be treated themselves. you may think, perhaps, that your dog belongs to you, and for that reason you can do with him just as you please. but do you ever stop to consider that rover or don may not enjoy being kicked and beaten and pulled about any more than you would if you were in his place? that is something that we must think about. we might have been born helpless, in the power of other and larger creatures. but it has pleased our father to make us what we are, and to give us the power over his other creatures, and for that reason we should be very kind and gentle with them. he wishes us to be merciful, and so we have his promise that those who are merciful shall have mercy shown them, if ever they come to be in need of it. and then, that it may be very plain to us, he tells us that "the merciful man is merciful to his beast." that means that he is kind and gentle to all the creatures that he has anything to do with, to his horse and his cow, to his dog, and even to the tiny kitten that ties itself up into a ball, chasing its own tail. isn't this promise worth trying for? [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. dew drops [illustration] vol. 37. no. 10. weekly. david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook. editor. march 8, 1914. francie fisher's fish [illustration] by marion mallette thornton on the primary room wall was a beautiful picture of a shining river. francie loved to count the fish that were swimming in it. just fourteen there were, and every one stood for a new scholar someone had brought into the primary class. how francie wished he could bring one and have miss florence pin a fish in the river and a red tag on his blouse to show that he had caught it. "how you s'pose i can get a fish, mother?" he asked earnestly. "i should think a fisher-boy ought to be able to catch just one." mother shook her head. "i don't know, i'm sure. there isn't a child on this street who doesn't go to sunday-school." "p'r'aps one will move on," said francie hopefully. but when a new family did move to that street there were no children in it. one day francie came flying into the house. "oh. mother, the ash-man's here and i b'lieve he's got a fish with him!" "what?" exclaimed mother, but when she looked out she understood. sitting in the ash-man's cart was a pretty little boy, with black eyes and tight curly hair. "is he yours. mr. lugi?" mother asked, and the ash-man smiled and nodded: "yes. mine--my rafael." "does he go to sunday-school?" put in francie eagerly. "no, no school--too little, him." "oh, but it's just sundays and we sing and there's pictures. couldn't he please go with me. mr. lugi?" begged francie, "i'll take awful good care of him." mother explained a little more, and at last mr. lugi said rafael might go, only--"no dress up, no clothes," he said sadly. but that did not trouble francie. "why, he can have my brown suit, can't he, mother? i'd just as soon." the next day mother took francie down to see mrs. lugi. little rafael was shy at first, but he soon got over it and was friendly as could be. the little black-eyed italian mother was very glad to see them. "i like rafael go the christ-church," she said. "i use go myself, home--italy." the brown suit, too small for francie, was just right for rafael, and it would have been hard to find two happier little boys than francie and his fish when they walked into the primary class together. rafael clapped his hands with the rest when miss florence pinned the fish in the river and the red tag on francie's blouse. [illustration: miss florence pinned the fish in the river and the red tag on francie's blouse.] and what do you think? out in the big room there were two more new fish, one in mother fisher's class and one in father fisher's. they were mr. lugi and the little italian mother, come to sunday-school with their little boy. "really and truly," francie said, "seem's if i caught three fish 'stead of one." "really and truly," said mother fisher, "i think you did." * * * * * "all by herself." the older children were gone out for the day: mamma was busy in the sewing room with miss fay: molly was doing the saturday baking. "what could alice do all by herself?" this was the very question that popped into the wee girl's own head, and she trotted off to ask mamma. "here's i," she said, at the sewing room door. "here's i, all by myself. what's i goin' do, mamma?" "going to be mamma's good little daughter and amuse yourself this morning without help from anybody. see how busy i am." "everybody's busy that isn't gone way off," said alice dolefully. "well, then," said mamma. "alice must be busy, too, taking care of herself and making her own good times. see how well she can do it. "but first of all," mamma went on, "think what you would like to do or to have me get for you, and i'll stop a minute now for that, so as to start you." this was an important thing to decide, so alice went into the next room and sat down in her kindergarten chair before her table, to think it out. she folded her arms and sat still about a minute: then she ran to mamma, exclaiming. "i know now, please get me my snub scissors" (of course she meant round-pointed) "and some bright paper, and i'll cut and cut ever so long." mamma dropped her work and got the things. "now, dear," she said, "see if you can't get along the rest of the morning by yourself. dolly and the picture books are in the dining room. don't ask me for anything if you can help it, but keep out of mischief and be as happy as you can." alice went back to her little table and soon had it covered with queer things. there were the oddest dolls you ever saw, with arms sticking out like stems: and there were horses with as many legs as could be put along the whole length of the body. it was great fun to cut them. but by and by alice grew tired of this, and jumped up quickly. over went the little table, scattering things everywhere. such a litter! "i'll just leave it all," thought alice. then a little voice inside said. "pick it all up and help mamma." after a minute, the little girl obeyed this pleasant voice, and picked up every scrap. then she ran downstairs without stopping at the sewing room door, though she wanted to. "peggy morlinda," she said, taking dolly from her cradle, "is you all by yourself, too? isn't it lonesome? come, i'll put you to sleep." peggy was soon asleep, or supposed to be, though her eyes were still staring. "now i will go take one little peek at mamma." said alice, starting upstairs, but stopping next step. "no. i won't neiver," she said bravely. "i won't 'sturb mamma one bit." after this the little girl found amusement for awhile at the library window. next, she went back to the picture books, and read a long story, all made up out of her own head, to peggy morlinda, who woke up to listen. but what a long morning it was! she did not enjoy it much, but she made up her mind about one thing--she wouldn't "'sturb mamma." at last papa came home and alice ran to him to be tossed up and down, and they had a fine frolic. "have you gotten along nicely with your work?" asked papa of mamma at dinner. "very nicely, thank you," said mamma. "alice helped me a great deal!" "alice!" exclaimed papa, looking as surprised as possible. "can alice sew?" mamma laughed. "oh, no, indeed, not yet," she said, "but she gave me a fine chance to do it. she amused herself all morning and did not ask me to do anything for her, so we got on beautifully with the work in the sewing room." [illustration: "peggy morlinda, is you all by yourself, too?"] "good girl," said papa, and alice looked as happy as she felt. oh, how glad she was that she had not left those scraps of paper for mamma to pick up! it is always safe to listen to the little inward voice that says, "do right." "do tell me a story," "what can i play?" "what shall i do next?" the little folks cry to the grown-ups, and all these things take time to attend to. if the children who are too small to do any work to "help mamma," would oftener amuse themselves, as alice did, they would help much more than perhaps they think.--_written for dew drops by mary harris_. * * * * * our skating rink. the wind blew shrill, the sky was gray: "oh, dear," sighed molly, "how it rains! let's think of some new game to play, i'm getting very tired of trains." "i know," said jack: "it will be fun!" and seized some paper, pen and ink; "look, look," cried susie, "what he's done: he's written, 'to the skating rink!'" the children thought it strange of him to pin it up upon the wall; "we haven't any skates," said jim; "it isn't any good at all." but jack looked wise. "oh, yes," said he, "i've thought of just the very thing; these railway trucks do splendidly- we'll tie them on our feet with string." they did, and all began to skate. but jack, i fear, was rather rash; he _would_ start off at such a rate that down he tumbled with a crash! he wasn't hurt. "i'm quite all right," he cried, and scrambled up again; and on they skated with delight, forgetting all about the rain! --_selected_. * * * * * why betty changed her mind by marie deacon hanson [illustration] each day, on her way to school, betty called for robbie porter. there were two reasons why she did this. one was that she had promised mrs. porter she would, the other was that the little boy's mother always gave betty a cooky, or a piece of candy, or sometimes a penny. betty never wanted anyone to know about this second reason, which made her feel ashamed of herself, whenever she thought of it. "just as if you couldn't do a kind thing for your neighbor without expecting to get something for doing it," she would say scornfully to herself. one afternoon, mrs. porter met betty in the grocery, and said to her: "deary, shall you mind calling for robbie about ten minutes earlier in the morning? i want to go to the city on the eight-thirty train." and before betty could answer, she added. "of course, robbie could go by himself now that he has learned the way, but he does so enjoy going with you." "and i don't mind one bit calling for him," betty hastened to assure mrs. porter. "i'll come early in the morning." on the way home from the store. betty saw her cousin, julia norton, coming eagerly to meet her. "betty," julia cried, "mother sent me to ask you to stay all night. cousin lottie has come, and mother says we can pop corn and have a good time. and you must be sure to bring your books so you can go right to school in the morning from our house." "that will be lovely," betty exclaimed delightedly. there were few treats she enjoyed more than going to her aunt's home. julia ran off to speak to another girl, and betty following, suddenly remembered robbie. how could she call for him if she were at her aunt's? the latter lived on the other side of the village, and it would be far out of betty's way to call for robbie. [illustration: "i'm sorry i can't call for robbie in the morning."] "i just won't bother about him," she decided. but even as she did so, she remembered that she had not only promised to call for robbie in the morning, but to call for him earlier than usual and his mother would depend upon her. "oh, dear! what shall i do?" betty cried impatiently. a small voice seemed to answer in her ear, and it sounded so real that betty actually turned to see if the owner were near: "do as you would be done by." "why, that's the golden rule," betty quickly exclaimed. "and mother says if you do as the golden rule tells you, you'll never be unhappy. what does it tell me to do now?" she stood in thought for a moment, and the next, she ran to overtake her cousin. "julia, please give this sugar to mother," betty said, placing the bag in her cousin's band. "and tell her that i've gone to mrs. porter's and i'll be right back." betty flew down the street to mrs. porter's and knocked hurriedly on the door. "why, betty, what is it, dear?" mrs. porter asked in surprise, as the former rushed into the room, in response to the invitation to enter. "i'm sorry i can't call for robbie in the morning. i'm going to aunt fanny's to stay all night," betty explained breathlessly. "it is thoughtful of you to come and tell me now, dear," mrs. porter replied. "i'll ask jennie lee to stop for robbie in the morning. i hope you will have a nice visit at your aunt's." "i know i shall," betty answered happily. "i'll call for robbie the next day, mrs. porter." and away the little girl tripped, light-hearted as could be. that is the way it makes one feel to follow the golden rule. * * * * * jack's master. jack's most delightful present last christmas was a red wooden gun, with arrows that would shoot very hard indeed. at least jack thought it was delightful, but his mamma did not; those little pointed wooden arrows that flew so far and hit so hard made her very uneasy, for fear her little boy would presently hurt somebody. but mammas hate to spoil their little boys' fun, and jack's mamma made an arrangement by which it was agreed that he was to have his gun, provided that he never pointed it at anybody, even in play. jack was quick enough to promise; he meant to keep his promise, too; and i think would have kept it if it hadn't been for his master. you didn't know jack had a master? no more did he know it till the day he had to give up his gun. you see, jack had a little brother, two years younger than himself, who was a very spirit of mischief, and loved above all things to tease big jack. one day, when the two boys were playing together, pretending to be wild indians out in the woods. will began to tease jack by saying: "there was a little man, and he had a little gun," and all the rest of that little song. i don't know why this teased jack, but he got madder and madder, until, alas! in spite of his promise, he pointed his gun--not at the "duck--duck--duck," but at will, and struck him on the cheek. now it was not the wooden arrow with which his gun was loaded this time, but one leg of a sharp steel hairpin, and it went into the cheek and stuck there like a little dagger. half an hour later the red gun was in ashes on mamma's hearth, while mamma herself and both boys sat sorrowfully by its grave. "mamma," said jack, "i didn't mean to shoot will, but somehow i couldn't help it." "no," said mamma, shaking her head: "i forgot when i let you keep the gun that you had a master." "a master?" asked jack, in surprise. "yes," said mamma, "you obey bad temper's orders, though you don't always obey mine." "mamma," said jack, presently, "i think i'll leave bad temper's service. he gets me into a heap of trouble." "do, jack," she said, smiling brightly at him. "and while you are getting rid of a bad master, remember that you have a good one, the lord jesus, on whose banner is written, 'putting away all wrath and clamor.'" little will listened very soberly to all this, with a red hole in his cheek, and both chubby hands resting on his bare knees. i hope he made up his mind, too, to choose the good master.--_selected_. * * * * * what makes men? what care i for cold or snow? school bell rings, and off i go! i am ready for the storm, and my heart is light and gay; mother's hand has wrapped me warm, as i trudge along the way. mother says, "learn all you can, then you'll be a better man." so i pack my books and go. through the rain or wind or snow; for i hope some day to be just the man she'd like to see. well i know that boys must learn to be ready for each turn, never idle nor afraid. by rough struggles men are made. so each morning, off i start. with a merry, willing heart. --_selected_. * * * * * lucile's surprise. it was a bitter cold day in january, so cold that the children ran all the way to school. it was snowing, too, and blowing as hard as it could. a very small crowd was in the classroom that morning, and everyone began to wonder why. "not on account of the cold, surely," declared edith watts. "why, it's just fine to be out to-day. and i know lucile would never stay away because it was cold. she has too much spunk for that." but still lucile didn't come, and everyone wondered: for she never was sick, and had said nothing the day before about staying away. [illustration: "i want her to awaken from a nap and find the kittens swinging in the basket."] at the last moment polly dalton came hurrying in, saying, "girls' there's a scarlet fever sign on dayres' door, so lucile must be sick. the nun was putting the sign up as i came by." later in the day it was found that several other children had fever, or were afraid to come out lest they should get it, so the hill school was closed for a week. edith watts was very lonely without her little friend, and spent much of her time writing letters to her, or in thinking of nice things to do for her. "i wish i could think of something very, _very_ sweet to do for her, something that would make her happy all the time," she said. "it must be so lonely and stupid for her to stay in the same room all the time, never seeing any other children." "keep thinking about it and the right thought will come to you," mamma told her, and mamma's advice turned out to be right, as usual. two days later, edith came downstairs, her face shining. "i know, mamma. i know what will make lucile happy every day in the whole six weeks she must stay in the house. the kittens! i will give her my kittens. it has been nearly two weeks since she has seen them, and they have grown so much and their fur has fluffed out so beautifully she will hardly know them." and the kittens were lovely. who wouldn't want a present like that? edith loved them with all her heart, but she didn't for one minute want to keep them for herself when she knew they would make lucile happy. she put them carefully in a basket, covering them well to keep out the cold. a nice indian hanging-basket that she had used for a swing for the pets was packed, too, and then papa took the "happy thought," as mamma called it, to lucile's home. "remember, it must be a surprise for her," his small daughter reminded him as he left the house. "i want her to awaken from a nap and find the kittens swinging in the basket just where she can see them." and that is the way lucile saw them. if they ever had looked sweet to edith's eyes, they looked a thousand times more so to lucile's poor, tired ones. "oh-h-h!" she exclaimed, with a long-drawn, happy sigh. "you darling darlings! have you come to stay, or are you only visitors?" the basket with its dainty load hung from a picture-hook near by, and the new-comers looked quite contented to stay. they jumped into the bed and did all they knew to cure the little girl. and they really helped.--_written for dew drops by elizabeth roberts burton_. * * * * * knowledge box when lapland babies go to church. when sunday morning comes, the lapland father harnesses his reindeer to the sleigh. father and mother wrap themselves in fur coats and put a fur coat on the baby, and away they go over the snow to church, it may be ten or even fifteen miles, for the reindeer can go a good deal faster than a horse. but the old lapland custom of caring for the babies while the grown people are in church, you never would guess. for as soon as the reindeer is made secure, the father lapp shovels out a snug little bed in the snow, and when it is ready the mother lapp wraps the baby snug and warm in skins and lays it down there. then the father lapp piles the snow around and over the baby, when they go into the church and leave the baby in the snow. so common is this that sometimes there are twenty or thirty babies, down to the little wee-est ones, buried in snow around the church. you might think the babies would suffocate, but they do not, nor do they freeze. in fact, the snow does not make them cold. for when it covers anyone all over, if they have clothes enough on, so the snow will not melt and wet them, it will keep them warm. and as the little lapland babies are not strong enough to knock the snow away and let in the cold, they just lie there safe and warm and go to sleep. when church is out the father lapp goes to the spot where his baby is, puts his hands down into the snow, pulls the baby our and shakes the snow off it; then the reindeer is unfastened, father and mother tuck themselves and the baby in the sleigh, and over the snow away they trot home again.--_written for dew drops by adele e. thompson._ * * * * * mother hulda's feather bed. how many children know what the boys and girls of far-off norway sometimes think when they see the dainty, feathery snowflakes flying softly and silently through the air? i don't think there are many of you who do know, so i will tell you the story. if we were there when they have the first snowstorm of the season we could hear them shouting gleefully to each other: "see! oh, see! mother hulda is shaking her feather bed." there is a story about this mother hulda and her feather bed that is told to the little ones there. she lives, it is said, far, far above this busy world, with the clouds for her home, the sun for a lamp and fire. she is always very busy, and especially so at the beginning of the winter, for then she has to unpack her great feather bed, and after that is done she spends all of her time shaking it. indeed she shakes it so much that she wears many holes in it, through which the feathers fly in all directions. the wind catches them up and carries them gently to the earth, where they cover the bare limbs of the trees, making them beautiful, and where they spread lightly on the ground and protect the roots of the flowers from the cold winter winds. mother hulda does not tire of shaking her bed until the warmer spring winds begin to blow; then she packs it away until she sees jack frost traveling again over the world below, and finds traces of the mischievous fellow even in her lofty home.--_selected_. * * * * * our lesson.--march 8. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--watchfulness (temperance lesson).--luke 12:35-48. golden text.--blessed are those servants, whom the lord when he cometh shall find watching.--luke 12:37. _golden text for beginners_.--_even a child maketh himself known by his doings_.--prov. 20:11. truth.--be always ready. 1. jesus told his disciples that they must be always ready and watching for his coming. [illustration] 2. he told them to be like faithful servants, who, with their lights burning, wait for the return of their absent master. 3. he said that the master who should come home and find his servants watching for him would be pleased. [illustration] 4. he would invite them to sit down at his table, and he would serve them himself. 5. those faithful servants would receive a blessing. 6. jesus warns us all to watch and be faithful about our work, so that when he comes again we will be ready. 7. he says that no one knows the day nor the hour when he will return. 8. the master chooses the faithful servants to rule over his house. 9. the unfaithful servant will not be found watching when his master shall come. 10. he will spend his time in eating and drinking and abusing his fellow-servants. [illustration] 11. the master will come when he is not expected, and will see these evil deeds and punish the servant for his unfaithfulness. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. for what did jesus tell his disciples to watch? 2. like whom did he tell them to be? 3. who would be pleased to find his servants watching? 4. what would he invite them to do? 5. what would they receive if found faithful? 6. what does jesus warn us all to do? 7. who knows when jesus will return? 8. who will be made ruler over his master's house? 9. who will not be found watching? 10. how will he spend his time? 11. who will come when he is not expected? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). when our work on earth is done, jesus calls us, every one; let us work, and watch, and pray, for his coming, every day. * * * * * title of lesson for march 15. the lawful use of the sabbath.--luke 13:10-17; 14:1-6. * * * * * golden text for march 15. the sabbath was made for man.--mark 2:27. * * * * * beginners golden text for march 15. _even a child maketh himself known by his doings_.--prov. 20:11. * * * * * advice to boys and girls the difference it made. "what a sweet voice that little child in the red cloak has!" said a visitor in sunday-school to a teacher, as together they listened to the children raising their song of praise. "yes, isn't it sweet? and she always sings just so heartily," was the reply. a little later, the school closed and, the children on their way home, the visitor chanced to pass by the child in the red cloak, just in time to hear her say angrily to her nurse, who had called for her: "i don't want to go this way--i want to go through the park. i won't! i won't go through that horrid old street!" "but, miss mazie, your mamma said we were to go straight home and not stay in the park to-day." upon this, the little lady marched away, with pouting lips and injured mien. "ah," thought the lady, "what a difference it makes in the voice when one speaks angrily! no matter how sweet it may be, how harsh and unloving angry words make it!" what a pity that mazie did not keep her voice as musical and birdlike as it was when she was singing her morning song of praise! think of this, little readers, and when you are tempted to be angry and speak in cross tones, instead of making your voice unpleasant to hear, endeavor to make it sweet and loving. * * * * * thoughts for mothers the earnest mother. mothers seldom realize the influence they exert in molding the lives of their children. it is the faithful teaching, as well as the consistent practicing of an earnest mother which results in forming characters of nobility and uprightness in the sons and daughters. the work cannot be begun too early. from their very birth, our children receive impressions. what the character of these impressions is depends upon surrounding influences. a true mother's influence should last long after she is at rest. said thomas h. benton: "my mother asked me never to use tobacco; i have never touched it from that time to the present day. she asked me not to gamble, and i have never gambled, and i cannot tell who is losing in games that are being played. she admonished me, too, against hard drinking, and whatever capacity for endurance i have at present, and whatever usefulness i may have attained in life, i have attributed to having complied with her pious and correct wishes. when i was seven years of age she asked me not to drink, and then i made a resolution of total abstinence; and that i have adhered to it through all time, i owe to my mother." mothers, do not think your little ones are too young to receive advice; it is true they may not act upon it for many years, but they will remember it and follow it sometime. * * * * * hurrah for the boy that whistles. hurrah for the boy that whistles! just now he passed by here. the rain dripped down from his sodden crown, but his whistle sounded clear; and it made my task seem easier, and my heart grew brave and strong, hurrah for the boy that whistles! he helps the world along. --_written for dew drops by bertha e. bush._ * * * * * [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. dew drops vol. 37. no. 16. weekly. david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook, editor. april 19, 1914. a syrup-can mother by mary gilbert. dorothy deane and her little brother laurence were standing by the window watching for papa. "there he comes!" cried dorothy at last, and the children raced toward the corner as fast as their chubby little legs would carry them. "careful now!" said papa warningly, as the two hurrying little figures reached him. "don't hit against my dinner pail!" "what is in it?" asked dorothy and laurence in one breath, as they stood on tiptoe, trying to peep inside the cover. "guess!" said papa, laughing. "a nickel to the one who guesses right!" "candy!" cried laurence. "oranges!" said dorothy. papa shook his head at both these guesses, and at all the others that followed, until they had reached the house. "now let mamma have a turn," he said, holding the dinner pail up to her ear. "why, it isn't--" mamma began, with a look of greatest surprise. "yes, it is!" papa declared. then he took off the cover and tipped the pail gently over in the middle of the kitchen table and out came ten of the fluffiest, downiest little chickens that any of them had ever seen. "oh, oh, oh!" cried the children delightedly. "are they really ours? where did you get them?" "they are power-house chickens," papa replied, smiling at their enthusiasm--"hatched right in the engine room!" "what do you mean?" asked mamma in astonishment, gazing at the pretty little creatures. "just what i say," replied papa, who was an engineer in the big power house down town: "they were hatched on a shelf in the engine room." "it was just this way," he explained, hanging up his hat. "tom morgan brought me a dozen eggs from his new hennery about three weeks ago. i put them on the shelf, intending to bring them home that night, but never thought of them until this morning, when there seemed to be something stirring up there. i looked, and, sure enough, there was a fine brood of chickens, just picking their way out of their shells!" "but how did it ever happen?" asked mamma in a puzzled tone. "because the engine, running night and day, gave the eggs just as much heat as they would have found under a hen's wings," papa replied: "and they thought that they were put up there to hatch." "oh, aren't they darlings!" cried dorothy, clapping her hands as the chickens began to eat the crumbs. "they are the nicest pets that we ever had in all our lives." [illustration: "oh, aren't they darlings!" cried dorothy.] while papa was making a nice coop out of a wooden box, mamma found an empty tin can that had once held a gallon of maple syrup. she filled this full of boiling water, screwed the cover on tight, and then wrapped it up in pieces of flannel. "there," she exclaimed triumphantly, fastening the last strip, "let us see how the chickens like this for a mother!" setting the can carefully in the center of the coop, she put the little chickens close by it. finding it soft and warm, they cuddled up against the flannel cover, and began to chirp as contentedly as if it were a mother hen. then she pinned a square of flannel to the upper side of the can, letting it spread either way like a mother hen's wings, and leaving the ends open for the chickens to go in and out. [illustration: they cuddled up against the flannel cover.] "we will fill the can with hot water every night," said mamma, "and it will keep the chickens warm." and here they lived quite happily with their syrup-can mother, until papa declared that they were large enough to go to roost in the barn. prince goodheart's daughters. by zelia margaret walters. prince goodheart had twin daughters about eight years old, named myrtle and violet. he had a number of other daughters, and sons too, for this was a large family. but to-day's story is about the twins. when the nurse was getting them ready for bed at night she always told a story, and one night her story was about the good-luck plant. she told how the seeds of it had been scattered about over all the earth, and here and there the good-luck plant came up. then she told about a child that had found one, and of all the pleasant things that happened to her. the little princesses listened with wide open eyes, and hoped they, too, would find a leaf of that marvelous plant some day. the next morning myrtle and violet were out in the garden early. "i'm going outside of the gate," said myrtle. "i mean to find the good-luck plant to-day." "but we haven't permission to go out," said violet. "i'm not going to ask," said myrtle. "they'll all be glad when i come back with the plant. you'd better come with me." "but i must get my lessons, and finish the hemming mother gave me to do, and afterward i promised to weed one of the flower beds for mother. i must do those things first." "oh, well, i can find it by myself," said myrtle, and out she ran. she didn't have as fine a time as she expected. she got tired and cross. she looked for the plant by the roadside, and in the park, and on the lawns. whenever anyone spoke to her she answered crossly. when the sun set, and warned her that it was time to go home, she hadn't seen a thing that looked like the good-luck plant. she shed a few tears as she ran home. at the castle gate she heard a pleasant noise of laughter and happy voices in the garden. "could they have had a party without me?" she cried. she darted in. "oh, myrtle!" called her little brothers and sisters. "what do you think! violet has found the good-luck plant, and she let us all hold it awhile, and we've had such a lovely time since lessons are done." myrtle's face flushed. "you are a deceitful girl," she said to her twin. "you said you meant to stay home." "so i did," said violet. she looked so happy and sweet that even cross myrtle stopped frowning. "i found it while i was weeding mother's flower bed. there it was among the pansies. i knew it at once by the horseshoe shape on the leaves." the queer black calf. by mattie w. baker. "please tell us a story, grandpa," said arthur. "a story about papa when he was a boy," added willie. "well, i'll tell you what your papa did, right over there, when he was only four years old." "we had a very gentle old horse that we called jenny. when i came home from any place, and was going to turn her into the pasture, your papa always wanted to do it himself, so i would give him the end of the halter, and let him lead her through the lane to the bars. he could drop down the ends of the bars, for they were only poles, and then jenny would hold her head so that he could slip off the halter. "well, one time it was near night when i came home, and your papa was gone to the bars as usual, so it was growing dark when i saw him coming back." "'what took you so long?' i asked. 'didn't jenny hold her head down good?' "'oh, yes,' he said; 'but i saw a black calf out there in the bushes, and i thought i'd put the halter on him and lead him home.' "'there's no calf in the pasture,' i said. "'yes, there was,' he persisted--'a funny-looking black calf! i went up to him and tried to put on the halter, but he wouldn't hold his head down when i told him to; and then he turned around and went off into the woods, so i came home.' "i remembered then that a bear had been seen not far from us a few days before, and i wondered if my little boy had been trying to put a halter on a bear! "i called the hired man, and got my gun, and we went over there. it was not so dark but that we could see the bear's tracks in the mud about the rock, and right among them were the tracks of your papa's little shoes!" both boys' eyes were "as big as saucers." "did papa do that, really?" asked willie. "yes, he did, for this is a true story." "he didn't know any better, he was so little," said arthur. "i wouldn't want to try it." "i think," laughed grandpa, "that even your papa wouldn't want to try it now, old as he is!" maisie plays the good fairy. by coe hayne. often did maisie play the good fairy when out in fields. when she saw a lamb caught in the fence, she freed it; when a little bird fell from its nest she replaced it; when a wee chick lost its mother, she helped it out of its misery. so did she try each day to make the world happier. one day as she was roaming about, she saw something dark in the grass. she stooped and picked up a pocketbook. her eyes opened wide with excitement when she found inside of the pocketbook several five-dollar bills and some silver. [illustration: maisie finds a pocketbook.] "who could have lost it?" she asked herself. maisie was going to run to the house to show her mother what she had found when she caught sight of a boy lying face downward upon the ground beside the road. [illustration: maisie caught sight of a boy lying face downward upon the ground.] she ran to the boy and knelt beside him. touching him lightly upon the cheek with a wisp of grass, she said: "look up, boy. what is the matter?" "i've lost my father's pocketbook," sobbed the boy. "i drove ten sheep to market and the man paid me for them. but i dare not go home because i've lost the money." "do you believe in fairies?" asked maisie. "what good are fairies?" replied the boy. "maybe they would bring you good luck," said maisie. "i don't believe it," said the boy. "suppose you try them. close your eyes." the boy closed his eyes. "now repeat after me: "bright eyes, light eyes! fairies of the dell, come and listen while my woes i tell." the boy did as he was told. "now open your eyes," ordered maisie. the boy opened his eyes and within six inches of his hand lay the pocketbook. eagerly he took it and opened it. "is the money all there?" asked maisie. "every cent!" cried the boy with joy. "you had better believe in good fairies," said maisie, as she ran away laughing. "ah, you are the good fairy!" called the boy after her. "many, many thanks for your kindness." the little pioneer's ride. by anna e. treat. "whoa, buck! whoa, bright!" called out stephen harris, pioneer, and the glossy red oxen halted in the forest opening. "this shall be our dinner camp to-day, boys," said he. "see what a fine spot." the pair of stalwart lads, with rifles on their shoulders, who had been walking all the forenoon beside the big covered wagon, thought it was, truly, a fine spot and began to make camp for dinner, unyoking the oxen and turning them out to graze, kindling a fire with dry twigs and moss and fetching water from the clear brook that rippled by. meanwhile, children of all ages began to climb down from the wagon. there were ten of them, fine healthy children; the youngest, martha, was a little yellow-haired girl of three, the pet and pride of them all. the wagon, which had been their traveling house for a month was well fitted up for the comfort. the seats were built along the sides and so contrived as to hook back at night; then the bedding, tightly rolled up by day, was spread out on the wagon bottom. under the wagon swung the large copper kettle, the most important of all things in the households of those early times. after dinner the oxen were yoked up, and in great spirits the pioneers scrambled to their places in the wagon, and the oxen started on at a good pace, and they had gone a mile or two before the fearful discovery was made that little martha was missing! the patient oxen were turned about, and as fast as possible the distracted family traveled back to the dinner camp, mr. harris and the big brothers calling, as they went, the name of the child. the camp was finally reached--but little martha was not there and no trace of her could be found. the forest had seemed so peaceful an hour before, but now it was filled with terrors. what wild animals might not lurk in the thickets! the very brook seemed to murmur of dangers--quicksands and treacherous water-holes. "baby! baby!" called mr. harris suddenly, breaking into a sharp cry; and this time, in the anxious waiting pause of silence, a shrill little voice from right under the wagon piped out, "here i is!" and over the rim of the great copper kettle popped martha's golden head. scrambling out, "head-over-heels," she rushed into her mother's arms, as fresh and rosy from her after-dinner nap as though she had been rocked in the downiest cradle in the land. an april day. now bless me! where have my rubbers gone, and where my big umbrell'? it's pouring rain, and a minute ago it was just as clear as a bell! oh, here are my rubbers, and here's my umbrell'- but, dear! dear me! i say, the sun's out bright and the rain all gone- did you ever see such a day! --_selected._ an odd earthquake. after hiram sowed the field of rye, he left the big wooden roller standing in the lane. it was a big roller, almost five feet high! one sunny forenoon roy and dorothy raced up the lane with little black trip and white snowball at their heels. dorothy was a gay, prancy horse and roy was a coachman armed with a long whip. they paused for breath beside the roller. roy clambered up to the high seat and flourished his whip. dorothy drummed on the hollow-sounding sides with her chubby fingers. suddenly a loose board rattled to the ground. dorothy thrust her curly head inside the roller. "oh, what a nice playhouse!" she cried. roy got down and peered in. "so it is," he cried. "we can live here when it rains, for there's a really roof and a truly floor." "we'll call it clover cottage," said dorothy, "for see how thick the clover is all around it." in about an hour "clover cottage" was in perfect order. pictures and cards were tacked up, and the dolls and the furniture and the dishes all in place. snowball was purring on a little bed of pine needles, and trip lay beside her fast asleep. tired of her work, dorothy cuddled down a minute, too. roy put back the loose board to shut out the blazing sun. then he cuddled down beside his sister, and it was all dark and quiet. at twelve o'clock norah came to the kitchen door and blew the great tin dinner horn. hiram promptly unhitched "old dolly" from the hay rake and started for the house. "i may as well haul the roller along and put it under cover," he said to himself, as he passed the lane. he backed patient dolly into the thills and mounted the high seat. "clover cottage" gave a sudden lurch forward. dorothy woke with a scream. trip was thrown violently into her lap, yelping wildly. snowball clawed madly at the slowly-turning roof. roy tried to shield his sister with his short arms, as dolls, dishes and themselves rolled together in confusion. "old dolly" pricked up her ears and stopped short. hiram sprang down and tried to peer through the cracks of the roller. helped by roy within, the loose board was soon pushed aside and the unhappy little inmates of "clover cottage" crawled out, one by one. frightened trip shot down the lane. snowball scrambled up the nearest tree trunk. "well," said hiram, "i call this quite an earthquake!" --_child garden._ how rex earned his keep. by winthrop day. when the passenger train stopped at the little station up in the mountains, carl and rosalie were helped out of one of the pullman cars by the porter. sam, their uncle jack's big hired man, was there to meet them with the mountain hack and a team of splendid ponies. "so you're all here safe, i see," said sam in his hearty way. "i know that we're here all right," said rosalie, "but i'm not so sure about rex. i haven't seen him since we left kansas city." "who's rex?" asked sam. "why didn't uncle jack tell you about rex?" said carl. "rex is our collie. he was put into the baggage car." just then the station agent walked from the front end of the train leading an immense dog by a chain. "this is rex," said rosalie. "isn't he a fine dog?" "we got rid of a dog just last week," said sam. "why did you get rid of him?" asked carl. "oh, he wasn't worth his keep. he didn't do anything but eat. it costs money to feed a dog up our way. i haven't much use for dogs, anyway. they are a bother where there are a lot of sheep around." "but rex loves sheep," said rosalie. sam did not look as if he believed this. when rosalie and carl arrived at their uncle's sheep ranch far up in the mountains, they were given a warm welcome by their aunt janet. "your uncle jack told me to kiss you for him as he had to go to his other ranch for a week," said aunt janet. two days later rex got his chance to prove his worth. aunt janet and carl and rosalie were just finishing their supper when a man from a neighboring sheep ranch knocked at the door and said that the herder of uncle jack's flock of yearlings had broken his leg and that someone ought to go for a doctor at once. [illustration: rex gets a chance to prove his worth.] "sam must go," said aunt janet. "but who will take care of your sheep to-night, ma'am?" said the neighbor. "i would do it but i left my flock with my little son and must return at once." "rex will take care of the sheep," said carl. "i know he will for he guards anything i ask him to." "he looks like a sure enough shepherd dog," said the neighbor. "i would trust him with a flock of my own." so while sam was hurrying down the mountain side after the doctor, carl and rosalie went with the neighbor through the woods to the place where uncle jack's flock of yearling sheep were feeding. and rex went with them. "i heard wolves howling last night," said the neighbor. "your dog will have to keep close watch to-night." "oh, he will sir," said rosalie. and sure enough! when sam went to the sheep in the morning he found not one of them missing. nor would rex allow sam to go near the sheep until carl came out and called him away from his post of duty. a wash day fantasy. my mamma says they're spider webs, all sparkly with the dew, and mamma's right, she's always right, and what she says is true. but they're so weensy, and so soft, and white, that just for fun, i call them fairy baby clothes a-drying in the sun. --_frederick hall in "little folks."_ when pussy was shocked by jean ford roe perhaps you think nobody can shock a cat. but just wait. this particular persian kitten was only six months old, and nearly as big as he could ever expect to be, and he was a beautiful creature to look at--all black except his white mittens, boots, nose and shirt-front, as a persian cat ought to be; and he had a cunning tassel in each ear, and a great plumy tail like an ostrich feather, and big topaz-golden eyes. miss mary's room and the next one opened into each other and were quite large, and both were covered with heavy rugs. pussy's favorite game was to race back and forth from one end of the rugs to the other; sometimes he would poke his nose under the edge of a rug and wriggle in between the rug and the floor until he was simply a hump in the middle of it, like a dumpling. it was well miss mary always knew where he was, or he might have been stepped on some fine evening. but he was feeling altogether too lively for any such amusement as that, this cold night. it was one of those dry, cold, clear evenings when you feel like running races, or snowballing, and pussy was as full of life and go as even a cat could be. so he had a little wild west show all by himself, with the rugs for tanbark, and went so fast that he looked like a long black-and-white fur streak on the bright persian rugs. now, if you walk and jump about on a heavy carpet for a few minutes, on a cool night, you may find that if you touch your fingers to anything iron you will get an electric spark. so when pussy had raced about for fifteen or twenty minutes on the rugs, he was, though he did not know it, one capering little battery of electricity. then he jumped up on the bed and began to race over the blankets. he was going so fast that he could not stop quite quick enough, and the bedstead was iron. he came up against the foot of it before he could stop, and though he did not touch it, he got an electric spark right on the end of his nose! if you have ever had a little shock from an electric machine, and can imagine how it would have felt on the tip of your nose, you will have no doubt that pussy was shocked. he backed off very slowly, considering. his topaz eyes got bigger and brighter, and his back higher and higher, and his tail plumier and plumier, every minute. his fur stood out in all directions, and he lifted his paws and set them down most carefully. he backed, and he backed, until he came up against the pillows, and then he turned around and realized that there was another iron thing behind him. was that bewitched, too? at any rate, he would be cautious this time and see what happened. he sat and looked at it for some seconds. then he reached out a paw very deliberately and daintily--and got another spark on the tip of that! you see, he had come all the way across the woolen blankets, and made electricity at every step. then he gave it up. he hopped off the bed in a panic and fled down the stairs. he came up again after awhile, and curled up on his usual cushion to go to sleep, but he was a very much puzzled cat, and there is no doubt that pussy was shocked. our lesson.--for april 19. prepared by marguerite cook. title.--the cost of discipleship.--luke 14:25-35. golden text.--whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it.--matt. 16:25. _golden text for beginners._--_be ye kind one to another._--eph. 4:32. truth.--if we would belong to jesus, we must deny ourselves. 1. jesus spoke to a great crowd that followed him and told them that if they wanted to be his disciples they must love him better than all else in the world. [illustration] 2. he said if they would be his disciples they must be willing to take up their cross and follow him. [illustration] 3. he meant that they must be willing to do hard things for his sake. 4. he said if a man wanted to build a tower he would first see if he had money enough to build it all. [illustration] 5. if the man began to build and could not finish it people would laugh at him. 6. jesus wanted to teach them that they should be patient and finish whatever they began. 7. if we want to be friends of jesus we must love him best of all and obey his words, no matter how hard we may find it to do so. 8. the love of jesus in our heart helps us to be good and makes it easy for us to obey him and do hard things for his sake. 9. salt is useful to keep food good and to make it taste pleasant to us. [illustration] 10. if the salt loses its taste and strength it is useless and is thrown out. 11. so it is with our love for jesus; if it is not strong and true it will be of no use to us or anyone else. 12. the true love of jesus in our hearts grows stronger day by day and makes us useful and helpful to those around us. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. what did jesus tell the people they must do if they wanted to be his disciples? 2. if they would be his disciples what must they be willing to do? 3. what did he mean by this? 4. if a man wanted to build a tower what would he first do? 5. when would the people laugh? 6. what did jesus want to teach them? 7. if we want to be friends of jesus what must we do? 8. what does the love of jesus in our hearts do? 9. of what use is salt? 10. when is salt thrown out? 11. when is our love for jesus of no use to us or anyone else? 12. what does the true love of jesus in our hearts do? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune._--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). jesus said, "come, follow me, and my true disciples be; give up all that leads astray, walk beside me day by day." * * * * * title of lesson for april 26. the lost sheep and the lost coin.--luke 15:1-10. * * * * * golden text for april 26. there is joy in the presence of the angels of god over one sinner that repenteth.--luke 15:10. * * * * * beginners golden text for april 26. _god is love._--1 john 4:8. knowledge box how trees know their birthdays. willard wondered how old the pretty graceful maple that grew outside his window was. "i don't know exactly," said mother, "five or six years i should think. but the maple has the story of each birthday shut up safe inside its trunk. if the tree should blow down, or we should ever cut it down we could tell how many years it had lived. "each year a layer of soft green wood grows right next to the bark, and when winter comes this wood hardens until it is like the other wood. so when the tree is cut down we see in rings of wood the number of years it has been growing." --_zelia margaret walters._ advice to boys and girls hanging out signs. grace had a sprained ankle when the new little girl moved next door. one afternoon a week later mother came in to tell grace that the new little girl had come over for a visit. "i'm glad," said grace. "please bring her up, mother, i like her." "why," said mother, "you've never seen her." "yes, but i could hear her every day from my window," said grace. "i heard her talk to her little brother, and she's so kind and jolly, and she never says mean things to the dog, and when her mother calls, she says, 'yes, mother,' just as pleasant, and runs right away to see what she wants. she's always singing, too. i know she's nice." "so little june has been hanging out signs telling just what she was though you haven't seen her," said mother with a smile. "i hope my daughter is putting out as good signs both for those who hear her, and those who see her." what kind of signs are you hanging out, boys and girls? you are putting out some kind all the time. what would the next-door neighbor think of you if she only heard what you said to mother, and little brother, and the pets? would she know you were kind, or would she think you were cross? or suppose your neighbor were deaf, and could only see what you did. would she read the sign of smiles on your face, or the sign of frowns? would she see prompt obedience, and cheerful work, or lagging footsteps, and the shirking of tasks? look over your signs to-day, and see if you are hanging out pleasant ones so that people will be sure you are nice. --_jane west._ [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 14147-h.htm or 14147-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/1/4/14147/14147-h/14147-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/1/4/14147/14147-h.zip) dew drops vol. 37, no. 34. weekly david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois david c. cook, jr., managing editor mabelle m. carbaugh, assistant editor august 23, 1914 billikens' surprise by helen hawley gilbert was a little boy who was going to have the first suit of clothes, that were not homemade. wasn't that an event! gilbert thought so. he was going to the city with father and mother to be fitted. mr. haywood said to his wife. "you'd better take the boy and go with me as far as branton. it's the best place i know of, for fitting out little fellows like him. maybe i can stop over long enough to help you. i'll look up the time-table." that's the way it happened that gilbert and his mother came back to their home at midnight. for this story isn't about the hours in the city, it's about the reaching home so very late. maybe you'll like to know, though, that the new clothes were all right, and gilbert was a very happy though a very sleepy boy by midnight. but he was wide-awake enough when the cab drew up at their own door, and he heard his mother exclaim. "why, the house is lighted! there's a bright light in the living room, and in the dining room too!" mrs. haywood had paid the driver and he whirled the cab away before she thought. "i do wish i'd asked him to stay, until we could see what it means." gilbert was eager to press forward, but his mother put him behind her. she fully expected to see burglars searching for silver, or taking money from the desk. but the sight which actually greeted her made her drop into a chair and laugh. and gilbert! he threw up his cap, almost shouting. "that's great, isn't it, mother? wasn't it cute of billikens to light up for us to get in?" now billikens was a beautiful white persian kitten, which had come to gilbert on his last birthday, and as full of mischief as a kitten could be. billikens sat perched on the back of an easy-chair under one of the lights, looking for all the world as if he tried to say, "i did it, for sure." [illustration: billikens sat perched on the back of an easy-chair.] it was this way: gilbert had often held billikens up to play with the electric light cords, and once when the kitten had pulled just right, the light flashed out. afterward, it became a kind of game to take him round to the brackets, and let him light up. "i'm afraid we'll have to stop his doing it," gilbert's mother said. "i doubt if you can teach a cat that what is done in play mustn't be done in earnest." "that's too bad," gilbert was quite grieved. "it's such fun to see him put on the lights. he almost laughs, himself. we could shut him up if we were away, mother dear." "well, perhaps." gilbert was a thoughtful little chap. now he said, "i learned, didn't i, mother? grandfather liked to have me pull his whiskers when he was awake, but once i pulled them when he was taking a nap, and he didn't like it one bit. i never did it after that." [illustration: billikens] dilly and her double-faced dolly. "i think you ought to invite dilly to your party, mildred," said mrs. fuller. "she lives so near us, and you've invited every other little girl on the street." "why," said mildred, "she'd be sure to bring that dreadful doll that she loves so much. some of the girls wouldn't come if she were invited. you said, mamma, i might ask just whom i pleased." mrs. fuller said nothing more, and the dainty notes of invitation flew here and there, but none stopped at dilly's door. dilly hardly expected an invitation, but there were some bitter tears which fell down on arabella's face. arabella was the name of one side of her doll. the doll was a crooked-neck squash with a stick for its body. it had two faces--one on each side of its head, and ink lines drawn round some of the yellow warts, made very prominent features. this doll was the comfort of dilly's life. the yellow noses were worn quite flat with her kisses, and she never had a trouble which was not poured into the two sympathizing ears, owned in common by arabella and angelina. the afternoon of the party came, and dilly, with her doll, watched the gay little folks gather on the lawn in front of mildred's home. she soon became interested in their play, and quite forgot that she was not one of them, in her excitement over a game of hide-and-seek. presently mrs. fuller called them for some pleasant surprise, and they all ran in, leaving their dolls leaning against the piazza. there was nothing more to see. dilly was gathering up her doll, when something made her spring up and cry out. rover, johnny cooper's dog, shot past her, barking loudly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. rover was the terror of every little girl in the neighborhood. johnny sometimes teased his sisters by sending rover after their dolls. rover liked the sport, and came to think that dolls were his natural prey. next to a big bone, there was nothing that delighted him so much as to shake a doll to pieces. he had seen the long row of dainty little figures, and was dashing towards them. dilly ran after him, threatening and coaxing, but he did not notice her. then she waved her turkey-red handkerchief, and screamed as loudly as she could, to attract someone's attention. but no one came. dilly thought of just one thing she could do. a last kiss on arabella's face, and then--"rover!" the cry sounded so sharp and strange that rover turned his head. s-w-i-s-h! right down at his side there swooped such a queer-looking doll as rover, with all his varied experience, had never seen. he made a dash for it. dilly darted past him, and, gathering up the dolls, laid them in the hall, and shut the door. her apron was over her face when she went down the walk, but a strange, crunching sound told her what had happened to her doll. mildred found dilly at home a few minutes later, folding away a little, ragged doll's cap, and drenching it with tears. mildred put her arms around dilly's neck. "oh, dilly," she said, "it was so beautiful of you! aunt lou saw it all from the window. i'm so 'shamed to think how i've treated you. do you think you could forgive me? if you could i'd love you all my life." dilly forgave her, and, all in her ragged dress, went home with mildred. every little girl kissed her, and she stopped to tea. not long after, a beautiful doll came to dilly. it was mildred's gift, and all the little girls who were at the party helped to dress it. dilly loves it dearly, and though it will never take the place of the dear, double-faced doll, she is very happy, for mildred is her loyal friend. --_selected._ a good cure for discontent--count your blessings every day. what jenny showed jean. by adele e. thompson. it was a happy day for jean when the cars started that were to take her and big sister all the way to grandpa's. when they left the train it was just as she had thought it would be. there was grandpa waiting to meet them, the ride through the green fields behind prince, the big white house with dear grandma waiting at the door, tobias the gray cat, the speckled hens; all her friends, for grandpa had even opened the pasture gate and let jenny, the pretty jersey cow, come on the lawn to welcome jean. and jean! she had hardly taken off her hat before she ran out to see them all. but jenny was her especial favorite, because grandpa had brought her up from a calf and she was so gentle that she had let jean take many a ride on her back. jean had just given her a good hug when grandpa came by leading prince to pasture. "please put me on her," she begged. "all right," he answered. "take hold of the strap round her neck and don't ride far." "no, i won't. jenny always stops for me to jump off when i want to." but when grandpa came back there was no little girl, no jersey cow anywhere to be seen. grandma and big sister had been so busy talking that they had not missed her, now when they called there was no answer. where could jean be? but before anyone had time to be really frightened there was a patter of feet and jean herself came running. "oh, oh," she cried, her eyes shining, "what do you think? just as soon as i was on jenny's back she started for the barn. and when we came round by the barnyard she stopped and said 'moo, moo,' an' then a little calf--just like jenny--that i hadn't seen 'cause it was lying down, jumped up, an' came running to the gate an' put its head through. jenny put her head down an' kissed it, then she turned her head and looked at me, an' i jumped right down off her back an' kissed it too. for i knew it was jenny's calf an' she had taken me out the first thing to show it to me. wasn't it nice of jenny to want me to see her calf? an' grandpa, can i name it?" grandpa said he thought it was very nice indeed, of jenny to show jean her baby, and they had been waiting for her to come and name it. "oh, oh!" cried jean again, "and i have a name all ready. it is daisy." vain wishes. by helen i. castella. sometimes i think i'd like to be a duck to splash in the pond so free: and then again i've pondered o'er the hen that clucks near the barnyard door. the guinea's life is freer than all, she wanders off, nor listens to call, but the pine cone chips that fall on me, remind me of squirrels far up in the tree- the nuts they're gath'ring to store away 'gainst skies of winter's cold and grey. there's something else that skips so free through the brush with hardly a glance at me; with his furry coat, he's quick as a wink, would i be a rabbit? i stop and think. but between you and i- after all, what's the use in spending my time regretting? there's only one thing i'll turn into- a goose! if i waste many moments in fretting! the things in the garden by gertrude warner rose and marguerite were playing in the nursery when they heard a queer bumping noise down in the back yard. "what's that?" asked rose, stopping to listen. "that's stubby, kicking his heels against the settee. he's awful cross today," said marguerite, and kept right on making the doll's bed. in a second rose had her head out of the window. there sat stubby, kicking his heels against the settee and looking dreadfully cross. "why, stubby dear, what's the matter?" she called sweetly. "nuffin'," said stubby. "why don't you play with the things in the garden?" "what fings?" "wait a minute and we'll come down and show you," rose said, drawing her head in. "how _can_ you play with that cross, _cross_ stubby?" asked marguerite. "he isn't sick, and we've done everything to please him all day. he's just plain cross. and if you play with him we can't finish arranging the playhouse before five o'clock." [illustration: copyright by underwood & underwood, n.y.] "mother said i might stay till six," said rose gently, "and i've thought of something to keep him busy. come!" marguerite gave rose a bear-hug and soon stubby saw them coming across the lawn. rose stopped under the apple tree to look for green apples. "muvver says not eat green apples," shouted stubby. rose held up a little one. "come on," she called. "find one the size of that!" stubby became interested in spite of himself, and more so, as rose began picking thorns off the rosebush and sticking them into the apple for eyes, nose and mouth. marguerite and stubby began making one like rose's. "now, find a stick and push it in for the body," said rose. stubby rammed one in so hard that it came out at the top of his doll's head. "that'll be good to stick a hat to," he said cheerfully. "they look pretty thin," said marguerite holding hers at arms length. "but wait till they have clothes on," said rose happily. "hollyhocks are fine for clothes." so stubby raced off for hollyhocks, picking the short stems off very carefully; first the large, silver-white ones, then shell-pink ones and last of all, the dark, velvety, red ones. "mine's going to be red," shouted stubby, running back with his hands full. "then take three, one for the waist and two for the ruffly skirt," said rose. "i know what'll be good for a parasol," said stubby, sitting down beside rose. "what?" asked rose. stubby pointed to the morning-glory vine climbing all over the arbor, with its pink and violet blossoms rolled tightly up, _just_ like an umbrella! rose clapped her hands. "just the thing," she cried. the children next made long braids of hair of striped grass, and fastened them to the backs of the dolls' heads with thorns. then they bound broad sashes of satiny grass around the waists and used the flat nasturtium leaves for sailor hats. "now we must begin a house for them to live in," proceeded rose. "pick up little stones and make squares on the piazza floor for rooms." stubby soon made four rooms, leaving a door in each, with a hall down the middle. "we can have grape leaves for blankets on the beds, and rose-petals for pillows, can't we?" said stubby excitedly, "and a big, flat stone for a table and little stones for chairs!--and more rose petals for chair cushions!" marguerite was busily pinning a sweet-pea on her doll's head for a bonnet, and rose finished arranging an acorn cup full of tiny green grapes for apples, before she replied. "stubby," she said at last, "you're a very clever boy." she deftly cut a green apple in two as she spoke, and began hollowing one half out with a sharp stick. "this will make a good set-bowl," she said, getting very red in the face with so much digging. "now, stubby's got the idea, we can go back and arrange the playhouse." "oh, i'd rather do this!" cried marguerite. "we can arrange that playhouse any rainy day." "well, if you want to, we'll keep on," said rose, looking very happy, and giving stubby a bear-hug. stubby didn't usually like being hugged, but this time he hugged rose back, and said, "my doll's name is going to be rose." the princesses and the wood-cutter's daughter. by jane west. when the queen was riding in the forest she met the woodcutter's little daughter, and she was so pleased with the child that she invited her to visit at the palace. the child, avis, came the next day, and she was taken up to the royal nursery to play with the princesses. before long the children were arguing about what game they should play. then rose, who was the eldest, remembered her duty to the visitor. "what would you like to play, avis?" she said. "i'd like to play whatever the rest of you like," said avis with her bright smile. after that the princesses were ashamed to argue about it. they agreed to let mignon, the smallest of them, choose. she chose ring-around-a-rosy, and they all played, and had a great deal of fun. when the queen came in for a few minutes avis remembered to draw up the best chair, and place a footstool for her feet. all day avis was so sweet and good-natured that the princesses quite hated to part with her. they said good-night, when she went, urging her to come soon again. "how does avis learn to be polite?" rose asked the queen that night. "she is only a poor woodcutter's daughter, and lives in a weed cottage. but she has better manners than we, who live in the palace." "why, my child, you have forgotten what politeness is. mignon, my little one, i just taught you yesterday, stand forth and tell your sisters." so mignonette put her hands behind her, and chanted: "politeness is to do, and say the kindest thing, in the kindest way." "there, children," said the queen, "you see how it is. politeness comes from a kind heart, and it makes a child lovely, and beloved, whether she lives in the hut or the palace." the valley of grump. by margaret colton. the valley of grump is a sad, sad place, and a dangerous pitfall, too, so easy it seems to slip into its depths- and some of the little folks do! oh, i'm sorry for them when i witness their woe, their faces all wrinkle and twist about so; and to their assistance i gladly would go- but i dread the sad valley of grump, my dears, i dread the sad valley of grump! the sun never shines in the valley of grump; the wind always blows from the east; the air, i have noticed, is constantly chill, and never warms up in the least. as every one weeps, there are tears all the day; and when people are cross, they have little to say; and when faces are ugly, they look t'other way- so beware of the valley of grump, my dears, beware of the valley of grump! [illustration: the sun never shines in the valley of grump] yet sometimes they speak in the valley of grump, and their language, i'm told, is a whine- you may have been troubled by sound of that speech, but i hope that fate won't be mine. and sometimes, from down in the depths of the vale, the whine rises up in a terrible wail; and the people who hear are like to turn pale, and flee from the valley of grump, my dears, far away from the valley of grump! there the tears ever falling are turned into fog that hangs o'er the vale damp and chill, and in it the little folks shiver and shake till they really are well-nigh ill! so i long to cry out to the sad little crew, "come up to the sunshine, you grumpy ones, do! your tears are all needless, if only you knew- come out of the valley of grump, poor dears, come out of the valley of grump!" the "biter's" wagon. by mary e.q. brush. i am sorry to say that little chalmers ashton was afraid of things! and you know there was really nothing to be afraid of, for he lived in a safe, comfortable house in the best part of town, and there were father and mother and grandpa and uncle james, tilly the maid and billy the hired man to look after him--to say nothing of mr. o'brien, the burly policeman in blue coat and brass buttons, who used to stroll up and down the street after nightfall. but chalmers used to "imagine things"--"think them up in his mind." i can't begin to tell you just what they were--only some were like snakes and some had horns and sharp teeth and glaring eyes and they growled like everything. chalmers made up a name for them; he called them "the biters." awful silly wasn't it, to be afraid of made-up things? one day an animal show came to the town. for one whole day big white tents were in the meadow at the rear of the orchard which belonged to chalmers' father, and, what with the rumbling red and yellow wagons, the noise and confusion, the shouting of the men, the roaring of the lions and howling and snarling of the other animals--well, really, it was almost like being next door to a jungle! and it was after midnight before everything was packed up and put on board the long train of cars. now the show people left one of their smaller wagons behind them; it was a very old one and something was the matter with it so that they didn't think it worth while repairing. so the next morning, there it stood near the elm tree out in the meadow. then, what do you suppose? well, it was a very foolish thing to do, but chalmers got it into his head that some of the animals had been left in that wagon! "i dare say they are 'biters,' and maybe, sometime if i go near them, they'll pounce out and grab me!" the little boy said to himself, and not a day passed that he didn't cast scared glances toward the tattered cover of the wagon. of course there were times when he felt quite brave and actually wanted to peep into the wagon; more than once he had visions of what a delightful time he might have with it, making believe it was a street car, or playing with it as an omnibus--but he never mustered up enough courage to do this. one day as he came home from school he happened to glance at the wagon and his heart seemed to jump up into his throat. surely there was something stirring inside that wagon; he saw the canvas cover bulge out--no, it wasn't the wind fluttering it! besides he was positive that he heard queer noises inside. "it's the 'biters'--i know it is;" he gasped. at first he was tempted to run right into the house, then something inside of him seemed to say, "don't be such a coward, chalmers! don't you remember what the teacher told you today about general washington and other brave men?" so chalmers stood still a minute. "i'll not be a coward! besides, there's mother sitting and sewing on the side porch." so chalmers climbed over into the meadow and went toward the wagon. when he got to the rear of it and peeped in, what do you think he heard and saw? oh, such a lot of chuckles and giggles, and there, seated in a row were his cousins--plump little marjory, laughing sharley and cute little jim! [illustration: there seated in a row were his cousins!] "we've come to spend the day with you and we thought we'd hide and surprise you!" cried sharley, while marjory added. "oh, isn't this wagon the jolliest old place to play in! you must have lots of fun with it." "well, i'm going to have some fun with it now," chalmers replied as he climbed up to take a seat beside her. +---------------+ | | | knowledge box | | | +---------------+ ruth's pretty dress. "my dress _is so pretty_," said ruth, smoothing its soft fold and patting her own curls as she looked at her pretty reflection in the big mirror. "yes," said the mother, "your dress _is_ pretty, dear, and let mother tell you something about how many helped to make your dress. "first, a little brown seed baby was put into the ground and it grew up to be a plant with flowers on it. then the flowers dropped off and little green pods came in their places. these pods made a nice little house for the seed babies, but when the little seeds got ripe they burst their house open and it was all full of soft, white cotton. some little boys and girls picked the cotton out, and then some men put it in a machine and took the seed all out of the soft white stuff, and then it went to another big house and was made into thread, and then into a beautiful piece of cloth, and mother and auntie made your pretty dress out of the seed babies' cotton blanket. isn't it nice that everybody helps ruthie girl to have pretty things." --_written for dew drops by francis mckinnon morton._ our lesson.--for august 23. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--the wedding feast.--matt. 22:1-14. golden text.--o jerusalem, how often would i have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her own brood under her wings!--luke 13:34. _golden text for beginners._--_we love him, because he first loved us._--1 john 4:19. truth.--the great love of jesus is for even those who would harm him. 1. jesus told a parable about the kingdom of heaven. [illustration] 2. he said it is like a king who made a marriage feast for his son. 3. when the feast was ready he sent messengers to ask his guests to come to the feast. [illustration] 4. some did not listen to the invitation, and others went about their work. [illustration] 5. still others abused the king's servants, and killed them. [illustration] 6. the king sent out his army to punish the murderers. 7. the king then sent his servants out into the streets to invite whoever could be found to come to the feast. 8. they brought in the poor and rich, the good and bad. [illustration] 9. the king went in to the feast to see his guests. 10. he found one man who showed his disrespect for the king by not wearing his wedding garment as he should have done. 11. the king sent him away from the feast. [illustration] 12. all are asked to come to god's feast, but few accept his invitation. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. about what did jesus tell a parable? 2. what did he say the kingdom of heaven is like? 3. when the feast was served for whom did the guests send? 4. to what did some of them refuse to listen? 5. what did still others do to the king's servants? 6. what did the king do to these murderers? 7. whom did the king send his servants out into the streets to invite? 8. whom did they bring to the feast? 9. who went in to see his guests? 10. who was not wearing the wedding garment? 11. what did the king do with him? 12. who are asked to come to god's feast? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). come and love the savior now, let us all before him bow; we must not reject his call, for he owns and loves us all. * * * * * title of lesson for aug. 30. a day of questions.--matt. 22:15-22. * * * * * golden text for aug. 30. render ... unto god the things that are god's.--matt. 22:21. * * * * * beginners golden text for aug. 30. _we love him, because he first loved us._--1 john 4:19. +--------------------------+ | | | advice to boys and girls | | | +--------------------------+ a rule that worked both ways. it is a poor rule that will not work both ways. at least, so thought mrs. fletcher, though her son, ralph fletcher, did not seem to be of the same opinion until he had first tasted some of his own medicine. "i wish you would pick up that book, ralph. you have stepped over it twice and have still left it on the floor," mrs. fletcher said to her son one morning. "i did not drop it, mother; it was grace," ralph replied. "and because you did not drop it, you think you should not pick it up? it would be a very unhappy world, ralph, if all worked on that principle. however, as you seem unwilling to be polite and brotherly, i must ask grace to place the book on the table again." a few mornings afterward, ralph went to his mother, saying: "mother, dear, will you take a stitch in this ball for me? i ripped it playing with frank danver. will you do it now? because i'm in a hurry." "i did not rip the ball, and so i see no reason why i should mend it," mrs. fletcher said. "you did the damage; you must repair it." "oh, mother--" ralph began, then stopped suddenly. "yes. it is not quite as nice a rule for others to work by, is it, ralph?" "no; and it won't be nice for me after this, if i can help it," ralph replied with a blush. after which, one may be sure, the mother's fingers went to work quickly upon the ball. but that is a way mothers have, of ever standing ready to give help and encouragement to their boys and girls. swinging. by elizabeth lincoln gould. swing, swing, under the apple tree, down in the orchard when apples are red; catch the rope tightly then up and away you go, up to the green, spreading boughs overhead. swing, swing under the apple tree, up till you see the sky through the green; down till your feet sweep the grass growing under you, up, up again to the wide, leafy screen. --_youth's companion._ [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. dew drops vol. 37. no. 9. weekly. david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook, editor. march 1, 1914. how lilian helped her brother by julia h. johnston "may we go, mamma? oh, do say yes. please say yes." lilian and her brother earl were invited to a children's lawn party, and, as they were not different from most other children, they were very anxious to attend. "lilian may go, but i am afraid to trust earl," said mamma. "there will certainly be ice cream and berries, cake and lemonade, and you know what the doctor said, earl. you think you are well, but you are not strong after your illness and you are not to eat or drink anything ice-cold for some time to come." "but i needn't eat things because they are there," said earl, "and i promise you, mamma, that i won't." "i'm sure he won't." lilian added. "i don't care to go unless earl can, and i'll promise for him, too, that he'll be good." "that means that you will be his security," said mamma, smiling. "you will be a surety for him, as they call it, and give your own pledge that earl will do his duty. well, then, if you both promise, i will let you go. you must learn to do right, even if there is temptation to do wrong." so the loving brother and sister, who wished to go together, as brothers and sisters should, went merrily off at the appointed time, and enjoyed themselves with their playmates upon the lovely lawn. as they went in together, lilian said, "now, remember, earl, that when we have things to eat, you must not take ice cream and lemonade." "i'll remember," said earl, and then, as it was a large party, the two were soon separated. lilian trusted her brother so fully that she did not think it needful to speak to him again, and when refreshments were served, she did not think of looking for him. as it happened, they were far apart. earl was very warm. his mother had told him to be careful about playing too hard, but when interested in a game, the boy did not realize how fast and far he ran. when the tempting ice cream, with berries, cake and lemonade were passed, he allowed himself to be helped with the rest, thinking only how hot he was and how good the cold things would taste. he had eaten half his cream and half emptied his glass before he really thought of his promise. then he stopped suddenly, feeling sorry and distressed. [illustration: the ice cream and lemonade prove too big a temptation.] "but what could i do?" he reasoned. "it would not be polite to ask for just berries alone." this was earl's second mistake. the first was forgetting his promise, the second in thinking true obedience could ever be impolite. "i might as well finish now, for if it's going to hurt me it has already, and the rest won't do any more harm." mistake number three. why should any wrongdoing be finished? suppose a driver should say about a horse, "he has a pretty big load now and so i might as well pile on as much more as i can," would it be no worse for the horse? earl was entirely wrong. of course he suffered for it. the doctor had to be sent for in the night, and the next day, though better, he was ill and weak, and had to stay in bed--something no boy was ever known to enjoy. he had hoped that the simple remedies mamma gave him as soon as he confessed what he had done, and began to feel ill, would undo the mischief, but they did not. earl had to bear the full consequences of his broken promise. "dear earl, i am so sorry you are sick," cried lilian, when she came in to see him the next morning. kneeling by the bed she put one arm under his aching head and threw the other over his shoulder, while earl put one arm lovingly about his sister. "i'm sorry, too," he said, "but really, lilian, i'm sorrier that i did wrong. mamma is so sorry she trusted me, and she says maybe she ought not to have let me go into temptation. she said that when we both promised she felt sure, and so let us go. isn't it mean not to keep a promise when you're trusted?" "i was mean not to help you keep yours, when i promised to," lilian said, not wishing to scold earl when he was ill in bed. "mamma says," she went on, "that when i went security for you it meant that i must help you to keep your word as well as to say that i felt sure you would, so i didn't do my part as i should, you see." "you told me to remember," said earl. "but not at the right time," said wise lilian. "i ought to have looked to see if you remembered, when the time came. if i go your security after this, and promise that you'll not forget, i'll watch and tell you at the time." "do," said earl. "you can think of things easier," which was true, lilian being older and more thoughtful. so the sister promised to make it as sure as she could that her brother would keep his promises after this. true, she sometimes forgot, herself, and earl was not always willing to do right, even when reminded, but both were in earnest, and lilian grew to be more and more of a help, feeling the responsibility of being her brother's security. who will follow her example? real fun. when roy saw that uncle henry was in the shop getting the troughs and pails ready for the spring sap running, he made up his mind to ask if he couldn't go to the maple orchard with the men. he had heard them tell so much about the happy days among the big maples that he had wanted to go for a long while, and it seemed to roy that he must be large enough this year to take his turn at the sap gathering. he asked uncle henry about it first. "can't i go to the sugar camp this year?" uncle henry looked up from the buckets he was counting. "maybe you can! i'm ready enough to take you along for a week. but i want to tell you right here how it isn't all fun up there in the sugar camp. you hear us talking about the best side of those days, and we don't say anything about the backaches and such as that!" roy was a little surprised to hear uncle henry speak like that, but he was too brave to change his mind about going. "there must be a lot of fun," he said, "and it's manly to do hard things." uncle henry nodded. "so 'tis! that's more real fun than playing at easy ones! if your folks are willing, get ready to start for the sugaring with me to-morrow morning. the yoke your father used when he was a boy is hanging up in the shop, and i guess your shoulders have grown broad enough to hold it on!" laughed uncle henry. the very next morning they started for the sugar camp far up on the side of the mountain, and long before noontime they had built a fire in the log shack, and roy was out in the woods helping uncle henry tap the maple trees. every minute after that was a busy one. the nights were crisp with frost, and the days were full of spring sunshine. for hours and hours each day roy trudged through the snow wearing on his shoulders the yoke which had a pail hanging from either end, and after each trip into the woods he would turn two brimming pails of sap into the big kettle boiling over the fire. [illustration: after each trip into the woods roy would turn two brimming pails of sap into the big kettle.] sometimes his legs ached, and he got tired tramping through the snow, and one pair of mittens grew quite useless for the holes worn in them. but he did not give up one bit of his share of the work. for a whole week the sap ran freely, and then came the time for roy to leave the men and go home. "i'm going to miss you a whole lot!" declared uncle henry. roy laughed happily. he was going down the mountain on the ox team which was piled high with barrels of rich brown syrup. "i'd like to stay!" he said. "i've learned about what you said before i came: that it's more real fun doing hard things than 'tis to play at easy ones!" --_written for dew drops by ruby holmes martyn._ neighbors. bobby made the snow man. he had made snow men in the country, and he knew how. he always made them by the gate, next to the big syringa bush. he used to cut a stick from a tree for the snow man to hold, and he generally placed a long chicken feather in its cap. but in a city yard that was not even all your own yard, it was different. recently bobby's father had come into town to live. in the same street lived joey rodman, who was about bobby's age. the afternoon that bobby made the snow man joey kept throwing stones. bobby tried not to mind. there was lots of snow in the yard, and he made the snow man unusually large. the other children helped him, but joey kept calling out and throwing things, and at last he knocked off the head of the snow man just as bobby had put in two bits of coal for the eyes. bobby could not stand that. he ran after joey, and joey dodged and began to call him names. joey's sister, sadie, who cared for the six children, heard the noise in the yard below. "do you think it's your yard?" she called out to bobby. "it is just as much joey's yard as it is yours!" then bobby's mother opened her window. "come in, bobby!" she said; and when bobby left the snow man and climbed upstairs, she said, "son, we mustn't quarrel with our neighbors, you know." "but joey threw stones--" "never mind," said mother. "we won't talk about that. perhaps we'll get to be friends with joey after a while. and you remember about coals of fire." that was mother's rule. bobby knew that text about coals of fire so well! "but i don't see how you could ever make coals of fire out of a snow man, mother!" he said. and then mother laughed, and he laughed, too. after a while, joey and the other children ran out into the street to play. bobby went down and finished the snow man with no one to trouble him. he put on the head again, and placed an old broom under its arm. he put it in very tight, so that no one could take it out easily. joey's sister, sadie, was bringing things out to the roof of the two-story extension. it was a tin roof, and sloped a bit. suddenly her foot slipped, and she lost her balance. she clutched at a clothesline, but it snapped. down she came, and bobby stood speechless with fright. but the snow man--the heroic snow man--was there to save her. standing firm and erect, he received the shock of sadie's fall. it was too much for his head. he lost that first, and then, as he went all to pieces, he made a pillow for sadie. bobby ran forward. "oh, oh, i never will say a word against that boy!" she said, sitting up in the snow. "his snow man has saved me!" bobby's mother came running downstairs and out into the yard. "you poor child!" she said. "but i don't believe there's a bone broken. come right in and i'll give you a cup of hot tea." sadie came, and bobby followed. behind him came joey, and the two boys lingered round while the tea was made. sadie drank it, and smiled at bobby's mother. "we're neighbors. i always like my neighbors, and i want to help them if i can," said bobby's mother. "well, you can count me as a neighbor who likes you," said sadie. "come along, joey--and mind you behave to bobby like a good neighbor, too." bobby climbed into his mother's lap after they had gone upstairs. "coals of snow are all right," he whispered in her ear. --_selected._ "the thing that goes the farthest toward making life worth while, that costs the least and does the most, is just a pleasant smile." o sanna san. o sanna san was a little japanese girl whose home was among the mountains of north japan. now because japan is called the flowery kingdom we are apt to think of it as a country where the sun always shines and flowers are always in blossom. but in the northern part, where o sanna san lived, they have winter, and cold, and in january and february the snow is three and four feet deep; the rivers and canals are frozen over, the people wear wadded clothes, and many of them go about on snowshoes. but o sanna san would not go about, for she had fallen and hurt her back so badly that she could not walk at all. her father and mother were christians, and one day when a missionary came to their house he told them about the hospital in the city, some thirty miles away, and that if they would take o sanna san there she might be cured. so it was that as o sanna san looked out one snowy morning she saw her father coming over the snow with a sleigh, which was like a little house on runners, with a roof, a window and a door. her mother told her it was to take her to the hospital to see if she could be made well again. then they wrapped o sanna san warm, and laid her in the sleigh, and her father put the ropes from the runners over his shoulders, took the pole in his hand, and away they went. in many places in japan when one travels one must be either pulled or pushed by a man. [illustration: o sanna san's father takes her to the hospital.] all day he drew her over the snow, till they came to the city and hospital. forlorn enough o sanna san felt when her father left her among strangers, kind though they were. and when they laid her on one of the hospital beds she was dreadfully frightened, because she had never even seen a bed before, but had always slept on a mat on the floor, and she did not dare to move for fear she would fall off. the days that came after were still worse, for the doctor put her in a plaster cast, so she had to lie straight and stiff like a wooden doll, and she was so homesick she could hardly speak, and her big black eyes were full of tears most of the time. but one day a little girl came down between the white beds and stopped at hers. o sanna san had never seen anyone like her before; for her eyes were blue, her hair yellow, and her skin was not brown, but pink and white. "i am frances," she said, "my papa is the doctor. he told me about you, so i have brought you my doll and a picture book." "i shall love the doll," said o sanna san, "but i cannot read, there is no school in our village." "never mind," frances smiled, "i am coming to see you every day, and i will teach you to read. my papa says you will soon be able to walk again, then you shall go with me to the plum blossom school for girls." o sanna san's eyes were shining. "oh, i shall not be homesick any more." --_written for dew drops by adele e. thompson._ sam's little dog. "mother," cried sam, raising his tousled head up from his no less tousled pillow, "i had the funniest dream you ever heard." "well," said mother, drawing the comb through her long brown hair, "i'll give you just five minutes to tell it in; then you must jump up quickly and run over to the bathroom." "it seems to me i was dreaming it all night," said sam, "but i believe i can tell it in less than five minutes: i thought i was going along, and a little black dog was following me. as long as i kept walking on straight ahead he trotted on behind me like a lamb, but every time i got out of the path, and tried to cross the fields, he barked and snapped at me till i came back to the path. "i got tired staying in the path, so i dashed out on one side presently, but the doggie barked so furiously that i got scared and climbed a little tree. just as i got to the top, the tree broke off at the roots and 'down came sammy, tree top and all.' the fall woke me, and i found i had rolled out of bed. wasn't that a funny dream?" "sam," said his mother, who had been much interested in his dream, "don't you wish you had a little dog to go around with you and bark when you went out of the right way?" "i don't know, mother," answered sam, doubtfully; "maybe i don't." "i hoped you would say you did," said mother, looking disappointed, "and i was going to tell you that conscience was that very little dog, and if you tried to get away from conscience's barks, either up a tree or elsewhere, you would certainly fall and come to grief. time's up, little boy; hie off to the bathroom." --_selected._ +---------------+ | | | knowledge box | | | +---------------+ how eskimo dogs sleep on a journey you have heard a great deal, very likely, about eskimo dogs that haul the sledges over the snow in alaska. have you ever heard what becomes of them at night, when the traveler must stop in a snowstorm? would you like to hear? when the traveler with his guides must stop, the sledge is turned up, and the men get into their fur sleeping-bags, and lie down under such protection as it offers, if there is nothing better. but the dogs are all turned loose. you would think that there was danger of not finding them in the morning, but there is no danger of that at all. when it is time to get up next day, the guides look around, and see as many snow mounds as there are dogs in the train, and in each mound where a dog has burrowed, and let the snow cover him, is a hole made by his breath. it is very easy to find the dogs by these holes, and they never go far from the sledge. --_written for dew drops by julia h. johnston._ judy's revenge by dorothy hartley [illustration] it was very evident that judy was in trouble. there she stood in the middle of the yard, her tiny brows drawn together in a pucker, one finger resting between her rosy lips in a way that would have been irresistibly lovely if the lips had been smiling instead of pouting, her eyes cast down on the ground at her feet. "i sha'n't! i sha'n't!" she kept saying every now and again, with a shake of her short, sturdy self. "judiet, come here!" called her mother from the kitchen, where she was making a pie for dinner. "why, what's the matter, child?" she added, as she saw the very evident traces of displeasure on her little daughter's face. "it's tom, and i'll never forgive him!" she cried. "hush! hush! you mustn't say that, judy. what has tom been doing?" "he's gone off playing, and he wouldn't let me go with him, and daisy's gone with her brother." "but perhaps tom has gone some place where it would be too far for you to walk," said mrs. tewsbury, as she sliced the apples into the dish. "he's only gone to watch the boys fly their kites, and he said i should stay home and play with my dolls. but i sha'n't!" "well, judy, i want you to go to the store for me, and then, when you come back, we'll talk about tom. there, run along now. get the basket and bring me two pounds of sugar." judy started on her errand, her little heart very sore against the brother who rarely found time to make things pleasant for his sister. tom always had something he wanted to do when judy asked him to help her. he had felt a little prick as he went off that morning, when he remembered that george brown had promised to take his sister with him to the top of the hill. "oh, judy couldn't walk so far!" he tried to comfort himself by saying. "i'll take her to some other place another day." but master tom knew he was making a promise to himself that he was not likely to keep. and so judy went to the store, and by the time she returned home she did not feel quite so angry with tom. perhaps her mother hoped this would be the case when she sent her little daughter. it is always well to wait and think when one feels angry, before saying things that afterward one will be sorry for having spoken. "judy, i've been thinking," said mrs. tewsbury, as the girl entered the kitchen, "that we'll teach tom a lesson. shall we?" "what kind of a lesson, mamma?" asked judy. "a good lesson, of course. now, when he comes home he'll expect to find you cross, and perhaps sulky with him. suppose, instead, he finds you smiling and with a nice little apple turnover that you have made for him; what do you suppose he will think? why, that you are too good a girl to be treated so badly; and, perhaps, too, if he sees you smiling and loving, he will realize how much better it is to be that way than selfish as he has been." "oh, mamma!" and now there were no frowns on judy's rosy, dimpled face; nothing but smiles. to make a turnover was a delightful treat in itself. but to help tom to be a nice boy was more of a satisfaction. so the little girl started to work, and under her mother's tuition soon had a very wonderful-looking turnover made and baked. [illustration: the frowns had all left.] "i'd most like to put salt in instead of sugar, just to pay tom up," judy thought to herself; and then a better feeling came to her and she added: "oh, no. i wouldn't, 'cause that wouldn't be right. i want tom to think i'm as nice as daisy's brother thinks she is." master tom came home whistling shortly after the dainty had been removed from the oven. he thought judy would be waiting for him with angry words. so she was waiting for him, but with a beautiful smile, a rosy face, and on a plate in her hand what seemed to tom a very delicious tit-bit. "i made it--made it for you, all by myself. mamma said i could." "oh, judy! and i wouldn't take you with me!" exclaimed tom regretfully. "but you will next time, if i'm good; won't you, tom?" said judy, coaxingly. "as true as my name's tom tewsbury. i say, judy, it was good of you to make this for me, when i don't deserve it, but i won't forget it of you." and judy felt well paid for her turnover. helpful and happy. "i am so little!" sighed helen, "tell me, dear mamma, the way, how to make somebody happy; how to be helpful each day." mamma replied: "to be helpful, be of a sweet, willing mood; and, to make somebody happy. little girls need to be good." _written for dew drops by eugene c. dolson._ our lesson.--for march 1. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--trusting in riches and trusting in god.--luke 12: 13-34. golden text.--where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.--luke 12: 34. _beginners golden text._--_he careth for you._--1 peter 5:7. truth.--the wise lay up for themselves treasures in heaven. 1. jesus wished to show the people the danger of caring too much for money or the things of this life, so he told them this parable or story. [illustration] 2. he said the ground of a certain rich man brought forth very large harvests. [illustration] 3. the man had so many good things he did not know where to put them. 4. he did not share with his poorer neighbors. 5. he forgot that god gave him all his good things. 6. he made up his mind to keep all he had for himself. 7. he said he would pull down his barns and build larger ones. [illustration] 8. he planned to store his wealth in these larger barns, and having nothing else to do would eat, drink, and be merry. [illustration] 9. he was a foolish, selfish man, and his plans were all spoiled. 10. that night god called for his soul, and he had to leave all his wealth. 11. he was very poor in god's sight, for his wealth was not of the kind that he could take beyond the grave. 12. it is foolish for us to love money too much, for if we do, we may neglect our souls while we are trying to get more of it. 13. our souls are worth more than the whole world. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. what did jesus wish to show the people? 2. what did he say about the rich man's ground? 3. about what was the rich man troubled? 4. what did he fail to do? 5. what did he forget? 6. what did he make up his mind to do? 7. what did he say he would build? 8. what kind of a life did he plan to lead? 9. what became of his plans? 10. what happened that very night? 11. in whose sight was he poor? 12. why is it foolish for us to love money very much? 13. how much are our souls worth? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). jesus, help us all to see that it's better far to be rich in all that's good and kind, than to worldly riches find. * * * * * title of lesson for march 8. watchfulness (temperance lesson).--luke 12:35-48. * * * * * golden text for march 8. blessed are those servants, whom the lord when he cometh shall find watching.--luke 12:37. * * * * * beginners golden text for march 8. _even a child maketh himself known by his doings._--prov. 20:11. +----------------------+ | | | thoughts for mothers | | | +----------------------+ teach politeness. mothers, do you ever impress upon your children the fact that they ought to show true politeness to everyone? do not let them show rudeness at home, and then expect them to be polite in company. politeness is not inborn, it has to be cultivated. it is a singular fact that parents allow their children to treat their brothers and sisters with little or no respect; this is one great cause of inharmony in many homes. some parents think that to have their children pay too much attention to the rules of politeness, is apt to make them too formal. better a little formality than actual rudeness. if there is any place in the world where true politeness and consideration should be shown, it is at home, and a parent cannot begin too early to teach such acts to a child. remember that true politeness begins in the heart: "out of the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaketh." an earnest desire to "do unto others as i would that they should do unto me," should be a child's motive power to impel to acts of kindness and politeness. see that the heart is kept right, and your child will be truly polite. +--------------------------+ | | | advice to boys and girls | | | +--------------------------+ a welcome little guest. eloise had been visiting at the home of her mother's girlhood friend, and the latter said to the little girl when she was leaving: "i hope your mother will allow you to come soon again; it has been such a pleasure having you with us." eloise is just turned eight years old, and perhaps you wonder how she made herself a welcome guest; it would doubtless seem that when so young a girl goes visiting without her mother, she might be more of a care than a pleasure. in the first place, eloise was careful not to go farther than the end of the block when she went outdoors to play; the end of the block was as far as mrs. dawson could see from the sitting-room window and, as she said she did not want eloise out of her sight, eloise took pains to remain within it. when either mr. or mrs. dawson asked her to sing one of her dear little songs, she did so willingly, though it was very hard to sing the first time before mr. dawson who was a complete stranger to her. in short, whatever eloise could do to please her hostess, she did, and she tried to leave undone the things she thought would not please her. perhaps eloise did not think of it that way, but she just followed the golden rule, and it is a very good rule to follow, either at home or when visiting, or, indeed, at any time. --_written for dew drops by marie deacon hanson._ it is good to see the way a brave, manly boy goes through the day, shirking no duty, but doing cheerfully whatever his hand finds to do. [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. dew drops vol. 37. no. 17. weekly. david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook, editor. april 26, 1914. among the rocks by margaret e. hays the tide was low, and a dark line of rocks showed up clearly in the still water. "i wonder what those rocks are really like," said toby rising slowly from his seat. "it looks almost as if we could paddle out to them," said his twin sister nancy, as she pushed her red curls under her sun-bonnet. "i vote we try!" exclaimed toby, seizing her by the arm. "we can go out a long way at low tide--it's all so flat." "i'm sure lots of ships must have been wrecked on the rocks," added nancy. "perhaps we shall find some treasure." the next moment they were hurrying off. on and on they paddled, till the water was well above their knees. then a few minutes more, and toby laid his hand on a rock. "i don't see any sign of wrecks!" said nancy, looking about. for a few minutes they stood, then nancy caught sight of the boat. "oh, there's the wreck! why, it's only a little boat." "of course it is! what else did you think? it's really some life boat that has been put off from a wreck, and it may be full of treasures!" cautiously they worked their way to it, panting with excitement. what were they about to discover? "see," said toby breathlessly, "the anchor rope had broken and caught among the rocks! i wonder we never saw the boat here at high tide--it would be visible then!" "i hope--oh!" nancy's voice was full of disappointment. "what?" "why, it's only rowan's old lily! it isn't a wreck at all! it was on the beach this morning!" the children stood looking blankly at the boat. "there's something moving!" there was something queer about the "wreck" after all! half-frightened, and hanging on to toby's arm, nancy peeped over into the boat, and the next moment she shrieked in alarm, and something sprang out of the locker and clung to her neck! "oh--h!" nancy pulled at the clinging creature in terror, but toby was bent with laughter! "stop it, nan! it's only a kitten!" he cried, as soon as he could speak. it was true! a poor, shivering little tabby kitten was cuddling into nancy's neck, mewing with terror! "oh, the little darling!" she exclaimed. "how frightened it must have been! i wonder whose kitten it is?" [illustration: "how frightened it must have been! i wonder whose kitten it is?"] "if we can't find out i should think we might keep it ourselves." "wouldn't it be lovely to have a kittie of our own?" "i'm afraid we ought to ask a few people first," said toby sadly. "there's old rowan. shall we go and tell him about the boat?" old rowan was looking gloomily out to sea, and never noticed the twins till they stood before him. "please, mr. rowan," said toby, "we've found your boat." "found my boat?" asked the old man absently. "yes, the lily. she's out there among the rocks." "is she? ay, she got adrift at high tide. i'd better go after her at once." but rowan didn't seem much interested in his boat! "me--ew!" a furry ball suddenly sprang onto the fishermen's shoulder, purring delightedly! "hullo!" rowan was now quite wide awake, and stared around him. "where did you come from, bunch?" "we found her in the boat--do you know whose she is?" asked nancy, and even toby looked anxious. "ay, that i do! my little grandchild has been breaking her heart all day over bunch. she's a cripple, you see. miss, and the kitten's company for her. it must have followed me to the shore this morning and gone to sleep on the nets. matty will glad to find it!" "shall we take bunch home to her?" asked nancy, sighing at the thought of parting with her treasure-trove. "it would be real kind. miss." she was glad she had offered, when she saw poor matty's face beam at the sight of her only playmate. a queer snake. by mary e.q. brush. it was the dalton children's first year in florida. they enjoyed the sunshine, the balmy air and fragrant flowers very much. there was only one thing to mar their pleasure and that was their dread of snakes. tilly, the little colored girl who used to play with them sometimes, had big stories to tell. "dar's rattlers in de pine woods, hidin' on de sunny sides of stumps: and dar's a pow'ful sight o' moccasins down amonst de water-hyacinths near de bayou. youse bettah look out, honey, or dey'll cotch youalls, shuah!" mabel, tom, hetty and charlie talked the matter over very seriously, almost solemnly. "do you s'pose they'll crawl into the house?" hetty said, her eyes large and round with fearful anticipations. tom shook his head gravely. "no telling! i heard a missionary from india say once how those awful cobras in that country used to drop right down from the ceiling." mabel drew a long breath. "my stars! i'd hate to wake up in the morning and find a snake near my pillow!" "guess we'd better keep a good lookout," was charlie's emphatic suggestion. one day when papa and mamma and little hal went in the launch across the river to see the new orange grove, and the children were left alone save for old uncle pomp who was hoeing in the truck patch, something happened that made quite a scare. hetty went into mamma's room for a spool of white thread, and when she came out there was a frightened look on her face. "oh, there's a snake on mamma's bed!" she exclaimed. tom and charlie sprang up so suddenly from their game of parchesi that counters and disks fell to the floor. then all four children hurried to the door of mamma's room and peeped cautiously in. it was not very light in the room for the window shades had been pulled partly down to shut out the glare of the noonday sun, but sure enough, it could be seen very plainly that there was something on the bed--a half-coiled, bluish-green snake with brown stripes. mabel uttered a scream. "it squirms--i saw it!" she cried. "no you didn't either," said tom. "you just thought so, because you're so scared. but it is a snake, sure enough and it's asleep. guess we'd better not arouse it." "somebody ought to kill it," hetty whispered, her teeth chattering. "one of yon boys'd better get uncle pomp; have him bring his hoe or something." "i'll go," said charlie quickly. "let's all go," suggested mabel. tom hesitated a little. he was the bravest of the lot, though the youngest. "say, somebody ought to stay and watch that snake; if it crawls down, we want to know where he goes to. i'll stay--only get uncle pomp soon's you can." but the children couldn't find the old darkey. so the children came trooping back to the house. but when they peeped into mamma's room again, there was no snake on the bed! nor was there any tom to be seen! "shucks! i knew he wasn't as brave as he pretended to be--you see he's deserted!" growled charlie. [illustration: "you see, he's deserted."] just then there was a chuckle from the other side of the bed and up popped tommy who had been crouching on the floor there. and if you'll believe it, there was the reptile that had so scared the children around his neck! "it wasn't a snake at all!" tom cried, grinning. "see, it's only little hal's necktie, that old blue and green, bias-cut silk thing that sort of twists up. weren't we silly geese though!" raindrops. little pit and little pat come out in stormy weather; they chase each other down the pane and then run off together. toodles' mishap. by aston moore. toodles was dreadfully meddlesome. he could not leave things alone. if you took the slippers away from him, he tried to eat the mat. if you put the mat outside the door, he tore the corner of the tablecloth. and when the cloth was folded up, he sharpened his teeth on the legs of the table. one evening he learned a lesson which made him a better dog. he was shut in the kitchen, to keep him out of mischief. the plates and dishes were on the shelves out of reach. there was no carpet on the floor. and his sharp teeth could not do much harm to the plain deal legs of the chairs and table. but there was a lighted candle in a tall brass candlestick upon the table. toodles scrambled onto a chair, jumped to the table, and tried to bite the candlestick. he could not break or tear it, but he soon knocked it over, and the candle rolled to the floor, where it lay burning in a pool of grease. toodles ran to play with the candle. next moment, he was racing round the room, screaming with pain and fright. he had burned his paw. [illustration: toodles.] if he is mischievous now, you have only to show him a lighted candle. it makes him quiet and good at once. the door of spring. by helen m. richardson. april unlocks the door of spring, and soon you'll hear a robin sing. a bluebird perched upon a tree will woo his mate. perchance you'll see an early redwing, if you go down to the swamp where catkins grow. for april warden is, of all the things that went to sleep, last fall. just where the field mouse and the toad have burrowed; where, beside the road, the grasshopper and katydid all winter have been safely hid; and when the bumblebee will come a-booming back with pleasant hum? april can tell you, for 'tis she opens the door that sets them free. adopting a grandmother. by mary starr coney. "oh, eloise! where are you going?" marjorie blake rushed down the steps as she caught sight of her friend dressed in her very best clothes and carrying a small valise. "guess where! it's the best place in the whole world!" "away on the train?" questioned marjorie eagerly. "of course. my grandma doesn't live here. goodness! i told you!" laughed eloise. "would you have guessed?" "no, for i didn't know you had a grandma." "why, of course, i have! haven't you?" "no, eloise." "how awful!" eloise dropped the valise in her dismay. "why, fannie green has two. i've only one, but she is the sweetest, beautifulest grandma you ever saw. i'm awfully sorry you haven't got one. but here comes mamma, so good-by." after eloise had gone away, marjorie walked slowly back to the house. she had never felt the loss of a grandmother before, but now it weighed heavily upon her. "if grandmas are so nice, it does seem as if i ought to have one," she said to herself, "'specially as some little girls have two!" marjorie sat down on the steps and with heavy heart thought over the situation. at last a plan suggested itself and she sprang to her feet. "when aunt mary didn't have any little girl and wanted one; she went to an orphan asylum and adopted one. why can't i adopt a grandma?" marjorie asked herself excitedly. "i never heard of an asylum of grandmas, but that doesn't matter! i want only one, and surely somewhere there must be one for me." the child looked across the street. the family in the third house were strangers who had moved in a few days before. marjorie was playing in the yard when they came, and she remembered seeing an old lady go into the house. there weren't any children over there, she knew, for she had watched eagerly for some to appear, but none had. maybe she could get this old lady to be her grandma. the little girl rushed across the street and rang the door bell. then her heart began a loud beating. s'pose the old lady shouldn't want to be adopted and should act cross? the child had half a minute to run away before anyone came to the door. but that would be cowardly and marjorie detested a coward, so she decided to stand her ground. at last the door opened, and marjorie looked up eagerly, into the face of a kind grandmotherly looking old lady standing there. "good-morning!" the old lady smiled invitingly at the child, who stood there with flushed cheeks and happy brown eyes. "did you want something of me, dear?" "yes'm," replied marjorie, catching her breath, "i want to adopt you!" "to adopt me! why, dear child, what do you mean?" "i want to adopt you for my grandma. you see, i haven't even one grandma and some little girls have two. i don't think that's fair, do you?" "no, really that doesn't seem fair," answered the old lady, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "i'm lonesome without a grandma, and i thought maybe you hadn't any grand-children, or even if you had some, p'raps you wouldn't mind having one more. so i came over to adopt you--that is--if you please!" quickly the twinkle left the old lady's eyes and she put her arm close around marjorie. "you dear child!" she exclaimed, "of course you can adopt me. i haven't a grandchild in the whole world but even if there were a dozen of them, i'd still have room in my heart for you!" "we cannot be free from unkind words unless we are free from unkind feelings." the five castaways. by coe hayne. when lena stuart sprained her ankle the doctor told her that she could not walk on it for at least ten days. "just think, mamma, ten whole days!" she cried in despair. "but the time will pass quickly if you make up your mind to be cheerful," said mother stuart. "but i cannot go to the picnic to-morrow," said lena sadly. "and just think! it was a picnic that i helped to plan for." "but you can watch the children as they play their games on the island," said mother stuart. "why, sure enough!" exclaimed lena. "i can see them as they cross in cousin rob's boat, right from our front windows. i hadn't thought of that." just then a fine black spaniel ran up to lena and pushed his nose against her hand. "and i have you, waggy, to keep me company," said lena more cheerfully as she stroked the silky ears of the dog. "and, mamma, isn't it lucky that i taught waggy to go to the post office for the mail and to the market for meat?" "very lucky for me," laughed mother stuart. "that will save me a few extra steps." waggy had learned his lessons well. when he went to the meat market he always carried a covered tin pail in which to carry home the meat, and when he went to the post office, he was given a big leather wallet in which to carry the letters. the following afternoon mrs. stuart had an engagement with her dentist and was compelled to leave lena alone with waggy. a kind neighbor had lent lena a wheel-chair so that she could travel from one part of the house to the other. at two o'clock she began to watch for the picnickers and at last saw them--five in all--run down the hill and get into her cousin rob's boat and row out to the pretty island in the middle of the river. everyone knew that cousin rob was a good boatman and so fathers and mothers did not worry when their sons and daughters went on the water with him. but on this day rob was a little careless about pulling the boat up far enough upon the island after all had landed. while the merry party was on the other side of the island the boat floated away. then to make matters worse the sky suddenly became overcast with clouds telling of the storm that was coming. lena saw what happened to the boat and presently she saw the five picnickers hurrying toward the spot where they had left the boat. she could imagine how they felt when they saw their boat floating down stream. "what can they do!" lamented lena. "they will be soaked sure and perhaps the river will rise and sweep them away." in hard storms lena had seen the water rise quickly and hide all of the island except the bushes that grew upon it. lena could not telephone for help for there was no telephone in the house. but she put her mind to work and thought of a way to rescue the castaways. "come, waggy," she called to her spaniel. "you must go to the market." lena wrote a message on a piece of paper and put it into the pail which waggy always carried when he went to the meat market. "mr. jones," wrote lena, "please send somebody to the island near our house. rob's boat has floated away and five friends of mine can't get off the island. there's a big storm coming. please be quick!" waggy took the note in his pail to the butcher thinking of course that he was going to be given some meat to carry home. but he was surprised to see mr. jones hurry away toward the river. a little later lena was overjoyed to see five very wet and draggled friends of hers coming into her house to wait until the storm was over. [illustration: lena was overjoyed to see five wet and draggled friends of hers coming into her house.] on account of the bunnies. by emma c. dowd. pauline looked through the picket fence and scowled. "oh, those poor little rabbits!" she whispered to herself. "i don't believe that boy has fed them this morning. and now he's gone off to play ball. it is a shame!" she glanced under the grape arbor, where some chickweed was growing luxuriantly, and for a minute she hesitated. the next, she was down among the chickweed, pulling it up by the handful. she approached the fence again, looked cautiously around, to make sure nobody was in sight, and then thrust the green stuff between the pickets. that first time of pauline's feeding the rabbits was followed by a second and a third, and finally it came to be a common thing for her to peer through the fence to see if they were supplied with food, and if not to carry them a good meal. one morning pauline was feeding them with celery tips, and, having become a bit careless, stopped to see them enjoy their feast. when she looked up she was disconcerted to see their owner watching her--only a few feet away. "i beg your pardon," she began, hesitatingly, "but i just thought i'd bring your rabbits a little celery." and she turned to go. [illustration: john discovers pauline feeding his rabbits.] "oh--i say--wait a minute!" he returned, as her foot touched the fence. "so it's you that's been feeding them, is it? the fact is, i--forgot, you know." "i did feel sorry to see them hungry," confessed pauline; "and i love pets." "say, you may have a couple of 'em, if you want," he said generously. "and i'll help you fix a pen," he added. "oh, thank you! i'd like them ever so much!" beamed pauline. and there was the beginning of a firm friendship between the small neighbors. pauline was to be satisfied with no such little makeshift as john gave his own pets. only the biggest sized dry-goods box would do for the house itself, and the yard that he helped to fence off with wire netting made him look disgustedly upon the tiny space allotted to the bunnies on his side of the pickets. when at last, pauline's rabbits were in their new quarters. john gazed at them thoughtfully. "say!" he suddenly burst out. "i'm going to have just such a place for mine--big yard and all!" "oh, and i'll help you!" cried pauline. the new pen brought about other improvements. tangled weeds and rubbish heaps seemed most unsuitable surroundings for so dainty a little maid as pauline randall; so john cut down the weeds and mowed the grass. he raked up the brush and rags and tin cans. pauline gave him slips from her own geraniums, and he made a flower bed to put them in. "mother says she's awfully glad you fed my rabbits," he confided to pauline, one day, "for if you hadn't our yard would probably be the same old place it has been for all these years." pauline looked up from the baby bunny she was petting. "i'm glad, too," she smiled. "if i hadn't, we might never have been friends." serving the queen. by mary e. jackson. "once upon a time, there was a brave little worker bee, who lived in a big hive. she was strong and willing, and was ready to do anything. and what do you think was the only thing required of her? she and a dozen other bees were placed at the door of the hive, and were told to keep their wings in motion, so as to send a steady current of air into the inner cells of the hive where the queen was. the little worker bee was disappointed, for she had wished to do some great service for her queen. "she could see other workers hurrying about and doing such important tasks! some were making wax, and building the comb inside the hive; others were providing food for the young bees, and still others were feeding honey to the queen herself! "day by day the little worker grew more discontented, until one day the queen sent a message to the tireless workers at the doorway. 'tell them,' she said, 'that they are doing me a wondrous service. without the air they are sending me, i could never live.' "when the little worker heard this message, she took courage, and her wings whirred as never before." --_selected._ our lesson.--for april 26. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--the lost sheep and the lost coin.--luke 15:1-10. golden text.--there is joy in the presence of the angels of god over one sinner that repenteth.--luke 15:10. _golden text for beginners._--_god is love._--1 john 4:8. truth.--there is joy in heaven over every sinner saved. 1. the poor and sinful liked to hear jesus talk. 2. the pharisees and scribes found fault with jesus because he let such people come near him, and even ate with them. [illustration] 3. jesus said that if a man had a hundred sheep and lost one, he would leave the ninety-nine safe in the fold and go to find the lost one. [illustration] 4. when he found the sheep he would carry it home with joy. 5. he would ask his friends to rejoice with him. [illustration] 6. jesus said that one sinner saved causes great joy in heaven. [illustration] 7. if a woman had ten pieces of money and lost one, she would bring a light and sweep the house, and search until she found the lost piece. 8. when she found it she would want every one to be glad too, and would call in her neighbors to rejoice with her. 9. jesus said the angels rejoice over one sinner saved from sin. 10. jesus loves to find and save sinners. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. who liked to hear jesus talk? 2. why did the pharisees and scribes find fault? 3. if a man lost a sheep what would he do? 4. what would he do when he found it? 5. what would he ask his friends to do? 6. what did jesus say would cause joy in heaven? 7. if a woman lost a piece of money, what would she do? 8. what would she do when she found it? 9. over what do the angels rejoice? 10. what does jesus love to do? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune._--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). when from him we wander far, jesus seeks us where we are; if we will obey his voice, angels will o'er us rejoice. * * * * * title of lesson for may 3. the prodigal son (temperance lesson).--luke 15:11-32. * * * * * golden text for may 3. i will arise and go to my father.--luke 15:18. * * * * * beginners golden text for may 3. _god is love._--1 john 4:8. +---------------+ | | | knowledge box | | | +---------------+ the first safety-pin. this is the way it came about. there was a little boy, by the name of harrison, who lived across the ocean in england, and because his mother was busy with other work he often had to take care of his baby brother. very often the baby cried, but instead of scolding him, or calling to his mother, that he couldn't do anything with the baby, harrison would try and find out what it was that made him cry. and very often he found that it was because a pin was pricking him. now harrison was not only patient with the baby, but he thought there might be some way the pins could be bent so there would be no danger of their pricking. he tried and tried for a long time to bend the pins so they would be safe, but every time he failed. one day his father, who was a blacksmith, asked him what he was doing. harrison told him that he was trying to bend a pin so it could not prick the baby. "that is a good idea," said his rather. "i will see what i can do." for his father knew that what would help his own baby would help all other babies. so he, too, tried, and at last he made the safety-pin that is in use all over the world. and though it was the father who finally made it, the thought came to him from harrison, and his thought grew from the unselfish wish to made his baby brother comfortable. so we can truly say that it was to a little boy, and to a little boy's kind thought, that we owe the invention of the safety-pin. --_adele e. thompson._ +----------------------+ | | | thoughts for mothers | | | +----------------------+ good reading. the habit of good reading once acquired will be of inestimable value to a child all his life. great care should be exercised at first that a taste for good literature be not spoiled by an earlier perusal of the more trashy stories so easily obtained. see that the children have at hand the right kind of books. if they get their books at a public library it is well to exercise a little oversight over what is chosen. most librarians are always glad to talk with mothers and give a list of the best books for children according to their ages. more personal attention is likely to be given your children, too, if a talk has been had with the librarian. children sometimes draw out books presumably for their parents which are not exactly suited to their own needs. also having a list of children's books yourself, you can always have a book ready to suggest. it is wise not to say much about the books of which you disapprove lest you implant the desire for the forbidden and mysterious. it is better to suggest good books than to censor bad ones. reading aloud with the children from the best class of books is a splendid way to cultivate a desire for them. it is often enjoyable to read together what to read alone might seem a little heavy. some children will need no urging to read, but on the other hand will be so fond of reading as to interfere with proper exercise and outdoor play. books on nature subjects will be good for these children for if they become interested and learn to love the things of outdoors this in itself will act as an antidote for over-bookishness. best and most important of all is to teach them a love and appreciation of the bible. it is our greatest literature, our truest guide to all that is good in life. in it is a never-ending source of pleasure and inspiration. in the woods. in the woods the leaves are green, in the woods a golden sheen falls upon the flowers; in the woods the robin gay sings a happy roundelay, perched in bloomy bowers. in the woods the squirrel flits high among the trees, or sits basking in the light; in the woods i love to lie, gazing at the blue, blue sky with its clouds so bright. --_lew ward._ [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. dew drops vol. 37. no. 18. weekly. david c. cook publishing co., elgin, illinois. george e. cook. editor. may 3, 1914. the singing heart by elizabeth noyes it was a warm may afternoon: all the little flowers were stretching up their heads to catch the rain that was falling patter-spatter everywhere. francis stood by the window pouting. he had been playing lovely games outside, and now the rain had spoiled his fun. mother was at her sewing machine. she felt sorry for francis, he was such a little boy and he had no playmates, but she was too busy to invent games for him. but he began to make up one for himself. he came and stood by the machine and hummed as it hummed, louder and louder. then the humming almost died away, as mother ran the wheel slower. [illustration: mother was at her sewing machine.] "oh, dear." francis said. "i want something to do." just then he heard a robin singing in the rain. he tried to sing with the bird, as he had hummed with the machine, and was surprised that he couldn't. "why can't i, mamma?" he asked. "because you are francis, and the robin is robin, i suspect," said mother, laughing. "you can do many things that the robin can't, you know." francis threw himself down on the sofa and watched the bird as it swung back and forth in the apple tree, and by and by he dropped asleep. when he woke up he ran to the window to find the robin. "oh, he's gone," he said, very disappointed. "did you hear what he told me, mamma?" mother shook her head. "why, he said to me that little boys can't sing with their lips as sweetly as birds can, but they can sing with their hearts: are you sure you didn't hear him, mother?" "i'm sure as sure," said mother. "but i know that's what you heard him say in your dream for it's true as can be." "what did he mean, mother?" "he meant that in spite of rain, little boys can be happy, just as the birds are, and can carry smiling faces to show they have singing hearts." francis laughed happily. "i'll try to have a singing heart. oh, the sun's out, and i'm going out to find the robin." threading needles. mrs. sargent's sunny sitting room was a very busy place that wednesday afternoon. four long sticks with their corners fastened together by wooden pegs, and placed on the backs of chairs, made a large frame in the center of the apartment. on this frame there were basted, first, some strips of pale blue cheesecloth sewed together, then cotton wadding was arranged evenly over this, and over all another large square of cheesecloth of dainty pink, was placed. now, i dare say that all you little readers know what this meant. it was a quilting-frame, of course, and the half-dozen ladies gathered around it were busily engaged in tying a comfortable; and, more-over, that same comfortable was to be sent to a good missionary out on our western frontier. there was a big box of other things to be sent, too--but never mind about them now; it is the pink and blue comfortable in which we are most interested. little ruth sargent was also interested in it. she wished that she were tall enough and nimble enough with her fingers to help fasten the pretty little tufts of white saxony yarn that tied the comfortable. the work must be very pleasant to do, for the ladies seemed so happy. how nice it was to think of making a sensible gift like that, to keep the dear missionary lady warm during the long, cold winter nights in far north dakota! presently, a round, fluffy, white something tumbled off the quilting-frame and rolled along on the carpet beneath. "oh, there goes my ball of saxony!" exclaimed mrs. dalton. "i was trying to thread my needle--my eyes aren't as good as they used to be--and the yarn slipped out of my hand." now, mrs. sargent didn't have to tell her daughter to pick up the worsted ball, for ruth was a polite little thing, and the ball had hardly ceased rolling, before she had scrambled under the quilting-frame and picked it up. then she thought of another polite thing to do. "please let me thread your needle, mrs. dalton," she said sweetly. "oh, thank you, deary, that will be such a help!" the lady replied. "my! my!" laughed the other ladies. "now, mrs. dalton, you will beat us all in tying, for you've got a fine assistant!" "why, i can thread all the needles," ruth said, her eyes shining. and so she did. needle after needle was threaded with the white yarn, and it really was surprising to see how much faster the ladies could work. it wasn't long before all the surface of the comfortable was filled with rows of neat, white tufts and was ready to be ripped from the frame and have its edges finished with herringbone stitches. and ruth felt very happy, for though she was only seven years old, she had helped in the making of the pretty comfortable for the dear missionary lady away out in dakota. --_written for dew drops by mary e.q. brush_. the sandman. the sandman comes at set of sun, just when the happy day is done, and when the quiet night's begun. you hear him softly, softly creep, and if you turn around to peep he throws the sand that makes you sleep! but don't be frightened--he is kind: his sand will never make you blind, but only close your eyes, you'll find. he's like a dear and gentle friend: his pleasant task it is to send sweet dreams to follow playtime's end. i've stayed up late, and tried to see the sandman passing close to me- i've been as still as still could be. but he is quicker than a wink! he didn't give me time to think, but made me yawn and stretch and blink. he buried me so deep in sand i dropped right into slumberland- though _how_ i cannot understand! --_written for dew drops by rose ralph._ the eastern mail by may g. mooar for a long time teddy had wanted a cart, and when his seventh birthday came, there by the back door stood the "eastern mail" with a birthday letter from grandpa on the seat: "dear teddy," it said, "i know you've wanted a cart for a long time so i hope you will like my birthday present. have a good time with it, and give somebody else a good time with it, too." "your loving, "grandpa." teddy played nearly all day with his new present, and for a week he cared for very little else. one day he raced up the walk, dragging his cart behind him, and dropped down on the piazza steps near where mother was sitting. "that's a dandy cart, mother," he exclaimed. "jack hoyt says it's the best one on the street. it's awfully strong, and it can go just as fast as anything. i tell you grandpa got a great bargain when he got the eastern mail." [illustration: teddy played nearly every day with his cart.] "then you're doing just what grandpa wrote you to do with the cart?" mother asked. "what's that? have a good time with it?" teddy answered. "i guess i am. i just wish grandpa could see how many miles that cart goes a day." "but grandpa wanted you to do something else with it, too," mother added. "do you remember about that?" "no, i don't," teddy replied slowly. then after a minute's thought he exclaimed, "oh! he said to give somebody else a good time, too, didn't he, mother?" mother nodded. "but i don't see how i can give anybody else a good time with it except mary and ned, for all the boys have either a cart or a bicycle or something, so they don't care about playing with mine." "well, dear, keep watch and see what else you can do. there may be some chances to make somebody else happy. will you take this jelly over to old mrs. atwood, now? she's been sick again." teddy started off with the jelly, and in half an hour he came rushing back with his face beaming. "oh, mother," he called. "mrs. atwood says that mrs. carter will give her a stove for her sitting room, but she thinks it's going to cost a lot to get it moved. it's only a little one, and do you s'pose i could take it over from mrs. carter's in my cart?" "i'm sure you could, if it's not very big," mother answered heartily. "i guess mrs. carter's son would lift it in for you, and we could find some man to get it out at mrs. atwood's." teddy ran to the cellar for the eastern mail and in a few minutes it was rattling down the street towards mrs. carter's. "i've come to move that stove over to mrs. atwood's," he explained politely, when mrs. carter opened the door. "do you think it will go in your cart?" the lady asked in surprise. "wait just a minute, and i'll get my son to see if he thinks it can go in that way." rob carter was as sure as teddy himself, and in a little while the stove was aboard, and teddy was carefully drawing the eastern mail to mrs. atwood's, and rob carter went along to steady the stove and lift it out when they got there. "i can't thank you enough," mrs. atwood said when the stove was in place. "it's helped me a lot to get the stove brought over." and as the eastern mail turned toward home she slipped a couple of lovely cookies into its owner's hand. why minnie could not sleep. she sat up in bed. the curtain was drawn up and she saw the moon, and it looked as if it were laughing at her. "you need not look at me, moon," she said. "you don't know about it; you can't see in the daytime. besides, i am going to sleep." she lay down and tried to go to sleep. her clock on the mantel went "tick-tock, tick-tock." she generally liked to hear it, but to-night it sounded just as if it said, "i know, i know, i know." "you don't know, either," said minnie, opening her eyes wide. "you weren't there, you old thing! you were upstairs." her loud noise awoke the parrot. he took his head from under his wing and cried out, "polly did!" "that's a wicked story, you naughty bird," said minnie. "you were in grandma's room; so now!" then minnie tried to go to sleep again. she lay down and counted white sheep, just as grandma said she did when she couldn't sleep. but there was a big lump in her throat. "oh, i wish i hadn't!" pretty soon there came a very soft patter of four little feet, and her pussy jumped upon the bed, kissed minnie's cheek, and then began to "pur-r-r-r, pur-r-r." it was very queer, but that, too, sounded as if pussy said, "i know, i know." "yes, you do know, kitty," said minnie, and then she threw her arms around kitty's neck and cried bitterly. "and--i guess--i want--to--see--my--mamma!" mamma opened her eyes when she saw the little weeping girl coming, and then minnie told her the miserable story. "i was awfully naughty, mamma, but i did want the custard pie so bad, and so i ate it up, 'most a whole pie, and then--i--i--i--oh, i don't want to tell, but i 'spect i must; i shut kitty in the pantry to make you think she did it. but i'm truly sorry, mamma." then mamma told minnie that she had known all about it. but she had hoped that the little daughter would be brave enough to tell her all about it herself. "but mamma," she asked, "how did you know it wasn't kitty?" "because kitty would never have left a spoon in the pie," replied mamma, smiling. --_selected._ how robbie helped. little robbie denham was a good boy, though very active and full of play. aunt abbie peyton had been spending a few days with the denhams, and one afternoon as she sat talking with robbie, she said: "do you do something to help someone each day, robbie?" robbie laid nab, the kitten, down and sat in deep thought for a moment, after which he answered: "i pick up kindlings for mamma and run errands for her. is that what you mean, aunt abbie?" "it is a part of what i mean. you should be very kind and helpful to the dear ones at home. but i was hoping you could find some way to help someone outside of your own home. of course, you are a little boy, but you can do some small thing for an aged or helpless one." "i don't know of anything now, auntie; but i'll keep on the watch to see." "that is right. we should be on the lookout to see what work there is for as to do." the next morning as robbie was having a fine run with his dog rover, he saw granny dorn, who was lame, hobbling along to get her cow, which had gone down the lane to eat grass. [illustration: robbie was playing with rover.] "i could do that kind of work for granny," said robbie, "but it's such a pretty morning, and rover does play so nice!" then he walked along slowly for a moment, until a bright thought came to him. "why, i can run with rover after the cow, and come back slower, so as to be rested for another run." away he went until he overtook granny, and said: "i'll get your cow every night and morning, if you wish. just see how fast i can go! but i'll be careful and not run the cow, 'cause my papa says they will not give so much milk if you do." "that is a good boy," said the old woman. "i'm going to bake some seed-cakes, to-day, and i'll give you a couple." "but i do not ask anything. i just wanted to help you a little. auntie peyton told me to try to do something to help folks, 'cause that's right." when robbie had driven granny's cow into the yard, he ran home and told aunt abbie: "it's 'most as good as just running with rover; and getting the cow helps granny, you know. is that the kind of work you wanted me to do?" "yes, dear. i am sure you have made a very good beginning. you can see if there is anything else for you to do. if one learns to keep his eyes open, he will have a chance to help a good many people." "i'm going to keep my eyes open, aunt abbie." --_written for dew drops by rosalie sill._ the making of a book. miss fanny has a little niece who lives so far away that she has never seen her, though she's six months old to-day. to be an aunt, miss fanny said there was so much to learn of proper auntly methods she knew not where to turn. she'd never been an aunt before, and knew not how to be, and so she asked if i should mind her practicing on me? she bought a long thick blank book bound in leather, gold and brown. and first we did the lovely things, and then she wrote them down. there's chapter one, called "going to bed, and how to make it fun"; and chapter two "on dressing dolls, and how it should be done"; and chapter three (the one by me), called "things about the dark"; and chapter four we did last week, "on going to the park." we're working now on "cookies" (and we find they're apt to burn), and after that is written down, there's not much more to learn. now if you ever meet an aunt who's not exactly right. just borrow dear miss fanny's book, and leave it out in sight! --_selected._ donald's "forgettery." "oh, i forgot!" it was donald excusing himself for leaving the gate of the chicken yard open, and now the pansy bed was all scratched up. bessie was in tears, and don was almost crying. "what shall i do with a little boy who is always forgetting?" mamma asked very gently. she had tried so many different ways to have donald learn to remember. "mamma, let's have a forgetter, for don, or any of us. just a big closet--that one upstairs with the window will do. let's put all our forgets in there. anything that's spoiled because we forget it, goes in there, for us to mend or to think of some way to make good. if we forget, we have to go there for the very next hour--unless it's schooltime--no matter how we want to do something else." "shall we try that, donald?" asked mamma. she knew that uncle rod was coming within that hour to take the children to ride. donald knew it, too, but his voice did not falter, "yes, mamma, let's begin now. i do want to stop forgetting." so up to the big closet they went, mamma, and donald, each carrying some of the wilted pansy plants. there was a low stool to sit on, and there donald spent the next hour thinking as he had never thought before. he heard uncle rod come and go away again. [illustration: donald spent the next hour thinking.] it was a long time before donald forgot again, then for days it seemed as if he almost could not remember. every day for a week, he had to spend an hour in the "forgettery." not one of the other children had had to use it, so it began to be called "donald's forgettery." he had invented a little play with the figures on the paper and the boards in the floor, so the time did not seem long at all. he was laughing when mamma came to let him out, and she asked what he was doing, and so donald told her of his game. then mamma asked donald if it was quite right to play, when he was put there to think. of course it wasn't. he had not thought of it that way. he had grown careless, because of this game, and to-day uncle rod had come again and this time donald had missed going to the city and seeing the new steamer that was to be launched. "i want to stay here another hour to-day, mamma, and it'll be the very last time i'll have to come. i'm going to think so hard i never can forget." it was the hardest thing donald could remember ever happening, losing this trip with uncle rob. as he promised mamma, it was the last time he ever forgot anything he ought to remember. then the forgettery had a new use. all the children would open the door and put in things they wanted to forget. bessie put in her hurt feelings, when alice forgot to come for her on the way to mabel's party. donald put in his anger, when ben let go of the kite string and it sailed away never to come back. robert put in his disappointment when papa wanted him to work in the garden instead of going fishing. --_written for dew drops by willametta preston._ a soft answer. "oh, emma, where are you going?" asked kitty, as she ran after her sister. "i'm not going to tell you where i'm going; so there!" replied emma. "you're just the hatefulest girl i ever saw," said kitty, beginning to cry. these two little girls did not remember the verse their teacher had given them the sunday before. it was this: "a soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger." emma's rough answer stirred up an angry feeling in kitty's heart. they were grievous words and brought a reply of the same kind. how much better it is to help each other to do right and to be gentle. miss maggie had heard what the girls said, for she was just coming into the house. she had a rose in her hand, and just as emma ran away, leaving kitty in tears, she held out the rose, saying to kitty: "smell it, dear; is it not beautiful?" the sweet words and the beautiful flower calmed kitty's angry heart. miss maggie told her to keep the rose, and when emma came home, instead of finding a cross little sister she found kitty very happy. "come see my rose," said kitty. emma smelled it and said, "oh! how sweet it is!" and they forgot their unkind feelings. what power there is in a gentle word. kind actions, too, are opposed to anger; the good will drive out the bad. "do your duty as if you enjoyed it." --_selected._ why should soldiers be rather tired on the first of april? because they have just had a march of thirty-one days. +---------------+ | | | knowledge box | | | +---------------+ strange little duckbill. if you lived in australia, you would hear the natives call the little duckbill by three different names--tambreet, or tohunbuck, or mallangong. are they not queer-sounding names? but the little duckbill is a queer animal, too. its mouth looks like a duck's bill. some people name it the water mole, because its fur looks like the mole's coat, and because it is fond of the water. when dogs first see master duckbill, they watch him waddle along in his funny, awkward way and bark at him, but they will not touch him. when cats first see this queer creature, they scamper quickly out of sight. master duckbill is a skillful burrower and makes long tunnels in the earth with his strong claws. his round body is thickly covered, first, with woolly fur and then with long hairs. a leathery hanging protects his round eyes from the earth in which he burrows. being fond of the water, he always builds near a stream--usually by some quiet pond or the still, wide part of a river. he makes two doorways. one he reaches by land; the other, by diving into the water. the land door is always carefully hidden under weeds or bending plants, so that no stranger can find it. yet, often you can see the footprints of this little worker in the wet soil. to look at master duckbill, you would not think he is so active: and he is so strong that you could not hold him in your hands. he is a wonderful climber; so that, if you had him in your house, you would soon see him running up your bookshelves or clambering along some other piece of furniture. he would put his back against the wall, his feet against the bookcase, and thus he would travel upward to the top. sometimes boys try to climb up a barn that way. when master duckbill is swimming, he looks like the bunches of weeds floating in the water. but he cannot stay there too long, for he grows very tired trying to float. he will leave the water and travel through his curving hallway till he comes to the end where his nest is. there, resting on a soft bed of grasses and dry weeds, he finds his two baby duckbills. they are only ten inches long, but master duckbill is proud of them. and well he might be. do you not think so? --_written for dew drops by susanne c. umlauf._ good-night good-night, pretty sun, good-night; i've watched your purple and golden light, while you are sinking away. and someone has just been telling me you're making, over the shining sea, another beautiful day: that just at the time i am going to sleep, the children there are taking peep at your face--beginning to say "good-morning!" just when i say, "good-night!" now, beautiful sun, if they've told me right, i wish you'd say good-morning for me to all the little ones over the sea. --_sel._ our lesson.--for may 3. * * * * * prepared by marguerite cook. * * * * * title.--the prodigal son (temperance lesson).--luke 15:11-32. golden text.--i will arise and go to my father.--luke 15:18. _golden text for beginners._--_god is love._--1 john 4:8. truth.--the lord will receive all who return to him. 1. jesus told the people a parable, or story, about a man who had two sons. 2. the younger one asked for his share of his father's money to spend as he pleased. [illustration] 3. he took the money and went away, and soon wasted it in sin and rich living. [illustration] 4. when he had spent it all, he found that he had no money or friends. 5. he hired out to a man to feed swine. 6. he was so hungry that he wanted to eat the swine's food. 7. he felt very sorry that he had been so selfish and wicked. [illustration] 8. he said to himself, "i will arise and go to my father." [illustration] 9. his father saw him coming, and ran out to meet him and kissed him. [illustration] 10. he gave him new clothes and a ring. [illustration] 11. he made a great feast, and wanted everyone to rejoice because his son had come home. 12. god is our loving father, and he rejoices when we turn away from sin and come back to him. * * * * * questions. what is the golden text? what is the truth? 1. about what did jesus tell the people a parable? 2. what did the younger son want? 3. what did he do with it? 4. what did he find when he spent it all? 5. what did he do to earn a living? 6. what was he willing to eat? 7. how did he feel? 8. what did he say to himself? 9. what did his father do when he saw him coming? 10. what did he give him? 11. why did he want everyone to rejoice? 12. when does god rejoice? * * * * * lesson hymn. _tune_--"jesus loves me, this i know," omitting chorus (e flat). god is father of each one, and he cares for every son; if we leave him he is sad, but when we return he's glad. * * * * * title of lesson for may 10. the unjust steward.--luke 16:1-13. * * * * * golden text for may 10. he that is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much.--luke 16:10. * * * * * beginners golden text for may 10. _beloved, if god so loved us, we ought also to love one another._--1 john 4:11. +--------------------------+ | | | advice to boys and girls | | | +--------------------------+ for sake of the younger ones. "ralph, you went down town without permission after you came home from school to-day. did you forget the rule about that?" "i did forget, mamma, but what's the use of the rule, anyhow? i'm a pretty big fellow, it seems to me, to have to ask every time i want to go out. and there's a lot of rules that i think i might do without that are well enough for archie and bess." ralph spoke in a fretful tone, and looked abused. it seemed to him that his mother did not realize what a great boy he was, or she would allow more liberty in many ways. "it is partly for the sake of archie and bess that i make the rules for you, and i insist upon having them kept," said mamma. "the younger ones cannot understand why you should have more privileges in these ways than they have, and if i allowed you to do as you please, even if you should generally please to do right, it would make it much harder for them to obey rules laid down for them." "it isn't very nice for me, though," grumbled ralph. "i don't see why it should be made hard for me just for their sakes." "it ought not to be hard, when you think of the reason, my boy. the rules are good for you, too, and even if they were needless, you should obey cheerfully for the sake of the younger ones. it is only fair, i am sure, that an older brother, who can help a great deal with the younger ones if he will, should gladly set them a good example, and even deny himself a little for their sakes." +----------------------+ | | | thoughts for mothers | | | +----------------------+ conquering fear in the child by common sense methods. "it is evident that the first and most important step to be taken in fighting fear in the child is the establishment of physical health," is the conclusion of dr. josiah morse in _the sunday magazine_. "whenever a parent finds that a child is becoming timorous, she may be sure that the child is not enjoying perfect health. a physician should straightway be consulted. fear thrives upon weakness; it also aggravates weakness. many a child has been weakened mentally and physically by fright or a shock, or by witnessing frequent expressions of fear in its mother. "so we may say that the best way to fight fear is carefully to avoid inducing it in children, and to be on the watch, so as to be able to nip in the bud those fears which are more or less natural to children, and which appear of their own accord." dr. morse holds that frequent calming and explanative conversations with the child, analyzing things that appear to cause it fear, and showing that grounds for fear do not exist, suppression of fearsome emotions in the parent, and strict cultivation of the child's physical health will take from it those mental torments which afflict so many. [entered at the post office at elgin, ill., as second class mail matter.] price of dew drops.--in lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. address, david c. cook publishing co., elgin, ill. transcriber's note: the exact date of publication is unknown, however, there is an inscription dated "18th march 1823" on the upper paste-down in the original book. the cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. the caret character has been used to denote superscripts, e.g. d^r. _twenty six_ choice poetical extracts. _selected from_ _celebrated authors_, and printed from _copper plates_ engraved expressly for the work, _each embellished with a_ beautiful vignette, _illustrative of the subject_. _london_, _published by r. miller. 24. old fish street and sold by j. arliss. 38. newgate street and r. hill. high street borough._ -----------------------------------------------------------------------[illustration] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 1. [illustration] on the bible d^r. stennett. let avarice from shore to shore her fav'rite god pursue; thy word, o lord, we value more than india or peru. here mines of knowledge, love, and joy, are open'd to our sight; the purest gold without alloy, and gems divinely bright. the counsels of redeeming grace, these sacred leaves unfold; and here the saviour's lovely face our raptur'd eyes behold. here, light descending from above directs our doubtful feet: here promises of heav'nly love our ardent wishes meet. our num'rous griefs are here redrest, and all our wants supply'd; nought we can ask to make us blest, is in this book deny'd. for these inestimable gains, that so enrich the mind; o may we search with eager pains, assur'd that we shall find! _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 2. [illustration] on the new testament. d^r. watts. happy the humble soul that takes and binds the gospel to his heart, that tastes the love the saviour speaks, and feels the joys his lips impart. not sinai's dreadful thunders roll, nor there his wrathful lightning shines; but peace to cheer the fainting soul, while grace and glory swell the lines: come then, ye trembling souls, with joy. accept the freely offer'd grace; the smiling saviour mourns your stay, whilst love invites you to his face. hark, ye that seek for perfect bliss, ye that would walk the heav'nly road! the gospel shews where jesus is, and leads you to his blest abode. lord when to see thy grace display'd, this sacred volume i peruse. send down thy spirit to my aid, lest i that sovereign grace refuse. oh! draw me with thy cords of love; thy will i'll joyfully obey. till i ascend to dwell above, in realms of everlasting day. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 3. [illustration] soliloquy. o thou allpowerful, holy, just, and wise creator and preserver of the world! look down on me, a poor dejected worm, part of thy work; my form thy hand bestow'd, my soul, my being, and my health, thy gifts! desert me not, nor leave me to myself forlorn, to wander through life's dreary waste, unskilful where to tread; but let thy light conduct me through each puzzling labyrinth, and thwarting stream, that happ'ly i may gain the blissful coast! where sorrow never comes, nor pain assaults.--oh! let thy holy grace sit regnant in my breast! subdue the unruly will, and keep the factious powr's in due restraint, that so, no evil thought, nor word, nor deed, may taint my soul! offend thy gracious eye, and plunge me in the dreadful depths of hell: but let me move in virtues middle path, nor err to right, or left, where danger lies. and oh! as down the rugged road i pass, let me adore thy love, and own thy pow'r; inspire my heart with thanks, and let my tongue enrapturd chaunt aloud thy sacred praise. _british mag. 1747_ _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 4. [illustration] the sabbath. ere yet the dawn has streak'd the eastern skies, ere yet the lark has sung her morning lay, early, upon that sacred day, arise, that thou may'st pass it in a pious way; 'tis not a day in listless sleep to waste, 'tis not a day, to lie in bed supine, but 'tis a day, by christians to be past in ev'ry act and exercise divine! 'tis not a day in saunt'ring to be past,- in drunkenness, or, to some bad intent, but 'tis a day which long as it does last, should be in holy works entirely spent: a day--which in devotion we should spend,- a day--to do the business of the lord,- a day--we should in pray'r, and reading, end,- a day--wherein our god should be ador'd,- a day--from ev'ry worldly work, to rest,- a day--to deeds of holiness assign'd,- a day--that is beyond all others blest: and not a day for idleness, design'd. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 5. [illustration] noah's ark. hart. when noah, with his favor'd few, was order'd to embark; eight human souls, a little crew, enter'd on board the ark. tho' ev'ry part he might secure with bar, or bolt, or pin; to make the preservation sure, jehovah shut him in. the waters then might swell their tides, and billows rage and roar; they could not stave th' assaulted sides, nor burst the batter'd door. so souls that do in christ believe, quicken'd by vital faith; eternal life at once receive, and never shall see death. in his own heart the christian puts no trust; but builds his hopes on him that opes, and no man shuts, and shuts, and no man opes. in christ his ark he safely rides, not wreck'd by death or sin: how is it he so safe abides? the lord has shut him in. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 6. [illustration] the rainbow. d^r. haweis. behold the gay bow in the sky, how vivid the colours are seen; its glories extended on high, with purple, and orange, and green. thro' the drops as they fall, the sun's beams refracted, reflected we view, as it glows, as it fades, the sweet scenes, our wonder, our pleasure renew. but oh! with what heighten'd delight in heav'n the bright object i trace, when by faith i contemplate the sight, as the sign of a cov'nant of grace. when over me hangs the thick cloud, and darkness with horrors outspread; mighty thund'rings with lightnings aloud, roll terribly over my head. no deluge of wrath shall i fear, no more can the floods of the deep, their billows affrighted uprear, the globe with destruction to sweep. tho' the heav'ns all on fire be dissolv'd, the elements melting with heat, the earth with fierce flames be involv'd, unmov'd i these terrors can meet. that emerald bow round the throne, the pledge of his favor i see: come, welcome, dear lord, to thine own, i long to be ever with thee. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 7. [illustration] "after this manner therefore pray ye." father of all! we bow to thee, who dwells in heav'n ador'd; but present still thro' all thy works, the universal lord. all hallow'd be thy sacred name, o'er all the nations known; advance the kingdom of thy grace, and let thy glory come. a grateful homage may we yield, with hearts resign'd to thee; and as in heav'n thy will is done, on earth so let it be. from day to day we humbly own the hand that feeds us still: give us our bread, and let us rest contented in thy will. our sins and trespasses we own: o may they be forgiv'n! that mercy we to others shew, we pray the like from heav'n. our life let still thy grace direct, from evil guard our way, and in temptation's fatal path permit us not to stray. for thine the pow'r, the kingdom thine, all glory's due to thee: thine from eternity they were, and thine shall ever be. addison. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 8. [illustration] retirement far from the world, o lord, i flee, from strife and tumult far! from scenes, where satan wages still his most successful war. the calm retreat, the silent shade, with pray'r and praise agree: and seem, by thy sweet bounty made, for those who follow thee. there, if thy spirit touch the soul, and grace her mean abode: oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, she communes with her god. there, like the nightingale she pours her solitary lays; nor asks a witness of her song, nor thirsts for human praise. author and guardian of my life; sweet source of light divine; and (all harmonious names in one) my savior, thou art mine! what thanks i owe thee, and what love, a boundless, endless store; shall echo thro' the realms above, when time shall be no more. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 9. [illustration] christmas morn. awake my soul, your hallelujahs sing to your omnipotent, your new born king, assist ye ev'ry power the lofty theme, to sound incessant his almighty name, let heaven and earth revere the joyous morn, whereon the saviour of the world was born, angels and seraphs spread hosanna's round, ye rolling spheres return the blissful sound: to conquer sin and break its stubborn chain, the son of god becomes the son of man. man (doom'd to miseries thro adams fall) he came to save and to redeem us all, thy sacred limbs were in a manger laid, while by thy side, an ox, and ass, were fed, lord of the world! thou there didst deign to lie, to teach weak mortals thy humility. almighty jesus i with bended knee, my daily thanks and praise do offer thee, light on my mind the lamp of heav'nly grace, for ever guide me in the paths of peace, that when this earthly frame returns to clay, my soul may fly where reigns eternal day. _british mag 1747._ _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 10. [illustration] new year's day. newton. while with ceaseless course the sun hasted thro' the former year, many souls their race have run, never more to meet us here: fixt in an eternal state, they have done with all below, we a little longer wait, but how little--none can know. as the winged arrow flies, speedily the mark to find; as the lightning from the skies darts, and leaves no trace behind: swiftly thus our fleeting days bear us down life's rapid stream; upwards, lord, our spirits raise, all below is but a dream. thanks for mercies past receive, pardon of our sins renew; teach us henceforth, how to live with eternity in view: bless thy word to young and old, fill us with a saviour's love; and when life's short tale is told, may we dwell with thee above. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 11. [illustration] winter's night. cowper. poor yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, such claim compassion in a night like this, and have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart. warm'd, while it lasts, by labour, all day long they brave the season, and yet find at eve, ill clad, and fed but sparely, time to cool. the frugal housewife trembles when she lights her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear, but dying soon, like all terrestrial joys. the few small embers left she nurses well; and, while her infant race, with outspread hands, and crowded knees, sit cow'ring oer the sparks, retires, content to quake, so they be warm'd. the man feels least, as more inur'd than she to winter, and the current in his veins more briskly mov'd by his severer toil; yet he too finds his own distress in theirs. the taper soon extinguished, which i saw dangling along at the cold finger's end just when the day declin'd; and the brown loaf lodg'd on the shelf, half eaten without sauce of savory cheese, or butter, costlier still; sleep seems their only refuge: for alas, where penury is felt the thought is chain'd, and sweet colloquial pleasures are but few! they live, and live without extorted alms from grudging hands; but other boast have none, to soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg, nor comfort else, but in their mutual love. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 12. [illustration] on providence thomson. think not, when all your scanty stores afford, is spread at once upon the sparing board; think not, when worn the homely robe appears, while on the roof the howling tempest bears; what further shall this feeble life sustain and what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again. say, does not life its nourishment exceed? and the fair body its investing weed? behold! and look away your low despair, see the light tenants of the barren air: to them nor stores, nor granaries belong, nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song; yet your kind heav'nly father bends his eye on the least wing that flits along the sky. to him, they sing when spring renews the plain; to him, they cry in winter's pinching reign; nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain: he hears the gay, and the distressful call, and with unsparing bounty fills them all. observe the rising lily's snowy grace; observe the various vegetable race; they neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow; yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow! what regal vestments can with them compare! what king so shining, or what queen so fair! if ceaseless thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds, if o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads; will he not care for you, ye faithless say! is he unwise? or are ye less than they? _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 13. [illustration] the prodigal. watts. behold the wretch whose lust and wine had wasted his estate, he begs a share among the swine, to taste the husks they eat. i die with hunger here (he cries) i starve in foreign lands; my father's house has large supplies, and bounteous are his hands. i'll go, and with a mournful tongue fall down before his face; father, i've done thy justice wrong, nor can deserve thy grace. he said, and hasten'd to his home, to seek his father's love; the father saw the rebel come, and all his bowels move. he ran, and fell upon his neck, embrac'd and kiss'd his son. the rebels heart with sorrow brake, for follies he had done. take off his clothes of shame and sin, (the father gives command) dress him in garments white and clean, with rings adorn his hand. a day of feasting i ordain, let mirth and joy abound; my son was dead, and lives again, was lost, and now is found. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 14. [illustration] the death _of the_ righteous. blair. ------------------------sure the last end of the good man is peace. how calm his exit! night-dews fall not more gently on the ground, nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft. by unperceiv'd degrees he wears away; yet, like the sun, seems larger at the setting! high in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches after the prize in view! and, like a bird that's hamper'd, struggles hard to get away! whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded to let new glories in, the first fair fruits of the fast-coming harvest! then! oh then! each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears, shrunk to a thing of nought. o how he longs to have his passport sign'd, and be dismiss'd! 'tis done, and now he's happy. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 15. [illustration] david and goliath fellows. let no man dread, the youth began, this haughty monster of a man; that dares all israel's host defy, his time is come, his end is nigh! and, trusting in jehovah's might, myself will undertake the flight- thou hast not strength, the monarch cries, against this man of war to rise! unus'd to arms, unknown to war. thy bleating flocks have been thy care; but he in camps his life hath led, to all the toils of battle bred; beside his strength:--the youth rejoins, jehovah's pow'r the brighter shines when great designs his spirit breeds, and infants dare immortal deeds. the track of war i never trod. but still have felt th' inspiring god for when i watch'd my fleecy care, i slew a lion and a bear, which did my fenceless fold invade, and in the dust the monsters laid. 'twas israel's god that deign'd to bless my youthful arm with such success. like one of these the wretch shall bleed, and wond'ring armies mark the deed- the monarch hears with glad surprize, and to the youth in rapture cries, then go to meet him void of fear, and may thy god indeed be there! _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 16. [illustration] _against_ pride _of_ beauty. d^r. collyer. behold the blushing rose her lovely tints display, the queen of ev'ry flow'r that blows beneath the eye of day! yon lily of the vale, scarce peeping thro' the green, that folds around her bosom pale, aspires not to be seen. the same almighty hand that decks with gems the skies, makes the fly's painted wings expand, and the gay tulip rise. when tempests threaten loud, his rays of light he pours, and forms the rainbow in the cloud, dissolving soon in show'rs! and shall a child be vain, less than the lily fair? can i so soft a tint obtain, or with the rose compare? the beauty of the mind let me then learn to prize, nor boast of features far beneath the pride of flow'rs and flies! if i am not as fair, i am as frail as they. to honour god be all my care, and that without delay. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 17. [illustration] _the_ village preacher goldsmith. near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, and still where many a garden flow'r grows wild, there, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, the village preacher's modest mansion rose. a man he was to all the country dear, and passing rich with forty pounds a year; remote from towns he ran his godly race, nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place; unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r, by doctrines fashioned to the varying hour; far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, more bent to raise the wretched than to rise. beside the bed, where parting life was laid, and sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd, the rev'rend champion stood. at his controul despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, and his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise. at church with meek and unaffected grace, his looks adorn'd the venerable place; truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway; and fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. the service past, around the pious man, with ready zeal, each honest rustic ran; ev'n children follow'd with endearing wile, and pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile, his ready smile a parents warmth express'd, their welfare pleas'd him, and their care distress'd; to them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'n, but all his serious thoughts had rest in heav'n. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 18. [illustration] the crucifixion. d^r. stennett 'tis finish'd!--so the saviour cry'd, and meekly bow'd his head and dy'd. 'tis finish'd--yes, the race is run, the battle fought, the vic'try won. 'tis finish'd--all that heav'n decreed, and all the ancient prophets said, is now fulfill'd, as was design'd, in me, the saviour of mankind. 'tis finish'd--aaron now no more must stain his robes with purple gore, the sacred veil is rent in twain, and jewish rites no more remain. 'tis finish'd--this my dying groan shall sins of ev'ry land atone, millions shall be redeem'd from death, by this my last expiring breath. 'tis finish'd--heav'n is reconcil'd, and all the pow'rs of darkness spoild; peace, love, and happiness again return, and dwell with sinful men. 'tis finishd--let the joyful sound be heard thro' all the nations round: 'tis finish'd--let the echo fly thro heav'n and hell, thro earth and sky. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 19. [illustration] easter day. m^{rs}. barbanld. this day be grateful homage paid, and loud hosannas sung: let gladness dwell in ev'ry heart, and praise on ev'ry tongue. ten thousand diff'rent lips shall join, to hail this welcome morn, which scatters blessings from its wings, to nations yet unborn. jesus the friend of human kind, with strong compassion mov'd, descended, like a pitying god, to save the souls he lov'd. the pow'rs of darkness leagu'd in vain, to bind his soul in death; he shook their kingdom, when he fell, with his expiring breath. not long the toils of hell could keep the hope of judah's line; corruption never could take hold on aught so much divine. and now his conqu'ring chariot wheels ascend the lofty skies; while broke, beneath his pow'rful cross, death's iron sceptre lies. exalted high at god's right hand, the lord of all below: thro him is pard'ning love dispens'd, and boundless blessings flow. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 20. [illustration] a thought on waking. anonymous. sleep by night, and cares by day, bear my fleeting life away: lo! in yonder eastern skies, the sun appears, and bids me rise: tells me, life is on the wing, and has no returning spring: death comes on with steady pace, and life's the only day of grace.- shining preacher! happy morning, let me take th' important warning: rouse then all my active pow'rs, well improve the coming hours: let no trifles kill the day, (trifles oft our hearts betray) wisdom, virtue, knowledge, truth, guide th' enquiries of my youth. wisdom and experience sage, then shall soothe the cares of age; these with time shall never die; those will lead to joys on high; those the path of life display, shining with celestial day; blissful path! with safety trod, the end of which is heav'n and god. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 21. [illustration] industry. anonymous. behold, fond youth, that busy bee; how swift she flies from tree to tree; extracting flow'ry sweets; thus cheerful all the day she'll roam, at evening seek her much lov'd home, to treasure all she meets. full well she knows, that winter keen, must come to blast this painted scene, with famine on his wing: her prudent labors find repose; nor winters cold, nor want she knows, till time renews the spring. while yonder drone in sunny haunts, who just supplies his present wants, nor heeds the passing hours; soon bleak december's piercing air, shall mock his want of timely care, and chill his vital powers. like the dull drone, should he who throws away what providence bestows. feel pinching hours of need; while they whose care is to increase, find, like the bee, in winter peace, and every good succeed. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 22. [illustration] journey to emmaus. cowper. it happen'd on a solemn eventide soon after he that was our surety died, two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd. the scene of all those sorrows left behind, sought their own village, busied as they went in musings worthy of the great event; they spake of him they lov'd, of him whose life tho' blameless, had incur'd perpetual strife, whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, a deep memorial graven on their hearts. the recollection, like a vein of ore, the further trac'd, enrich'd them still the more; they thought him, and they justly thought him, one sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done t' exalt a people, and to place them high above all else, and wonder'd he should die, ere yet they brought their journey to an end, a stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend. and ask'd them with a kind engaging air what their affliction was, and begg'd a share. inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread, and truth and wisdom gracing all he said, explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well the tender theme on which they chose to dwell that, reaching home, the night, they said is near, we must not now be parted, sojourn here. the new acquaintance, soon became a guest and made so welcome at their simple feast he bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word, and left them both exclaiming, 't'was the lord'! did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say. did they not burn within us by the way? _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 23. [illustration] a country prospect. sir rich^d hill. while all thy glories, o my god! thro the creation shine; while rocks, and hills, and fertile vales proclaim the hand divine. o may i view with humble heart the wonders of thy pow'r, display'd alike in wilder scenes, as in each blade and flow'r. but while i taste thy blessings, lord, and sip the streams below, o may my soul be led to thee, from whence all blessings flow; and if such footsteps of thy love, thro this lost world we trace; how far transcendent are thy works throughout the world of grace. just as before yon noontide sun, the brightest stars are small. so earthly comforts are but snares, till grace has crown'd them all. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 24. [illustration] hay time. newton. the grass and flow'rs which clothe the field, and look so green and gay, touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield, and fall, and fade away. fit emblem of our mortal state: thus in the scripture glass, the young, the strong; the wise, the great; may see themselves but grass. o! trust not to your fleeting breath, nor call your time your own; around you see the scythe of death is mowing thousands down. and you, who hitherto are spar'd, must shortly yield your lives: your wisdom is to be prepar'd, before the stroke arrives. the grass, when dead, revives no more; you die to live again; but oh! if death should prove the door to everlasting pain. lord, help us to obey thy call, that from our sins set free, when like the grass our bodies fall, our souls may spring to thee. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 25. [illustration] samuel. anonymous. when i survey this holy child, with bended knee, and count'nance mild, with eyes and hands uplift in prayer, the approving ray from heaven there. what that implies o could i be, whene'er to god i bend the knee! thus fervent, reverent, and meek, when i for heavenly blessings seek! but ah! i have a foe within, no print can shew the power of sin! this cools my fervour and desires, this unbelief and dread inspires. o for thy holy spirit, lord! this to my prayers shall life afford! with samuel's faith my soul supply, whene'er i to thy throne draw nigh. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- n^o. 26. [illustration] whitsunday. watts. great was the day, the joy was great, when the divine disciples met, whilst on their heads the spirit came, and sat like tongues of cloven flame. what gifts, what miracles he gave! and pow'r to kill, and pow'r to save! furnish'd their tongues with wond'rous words, instead of shields, and spears, and swords! thus arm'd, he sent the champions forth, from east to west, from south to north; "go, and assert your saviour's cause; "go, spread the myst'ry of his cross. these weapons of the holy war, of what almighty force they are, to make our stubborn passions bow, and lay the proudest rebel low. nations, the learned and the rude, are by these heavenly arms subdued; while satan rages at his loss, and hates the doctrine of the cross. great king of grace! my heart subdue! i would be led in triumph too. a willing captive to my lord, and sing the victories of his word. _london, published by r. miller, old fish street, doctors commons._ aunt harding's keepsakes: or, the two bibles revised by daniel p. kidder. 1851. [illustration a: frontispiece] contents. i. guessing ii. the presents iii. use of the keepsakes iv. two characters v. letters from india vi. trouble between sisters vii. aunt harding's letter viii. use of money ix. aunt harding's return aunt harding's keepsakes. chapter i. guessing. "can you guess," said louisa to her sister, as they sat at their work in the summer-house, "can you guess what aunt harding will give us, as a keepsake, before she goes away?" "no, i have not thought about it," said emma; "and aunt has lately given us so many pretty things, that we can scarcely expect any more for a long time to come. there is my doll and its cradle, you know, and your baby-house and furniture, how much money they cost! no, i do not think aunt intends to give us anything else." "but i am quite sure she will," replied louisa; "for i was going past mamma's dressing-room this morning, when the door was a little way open, and i heard aunt harding say, 'i should like to give the dear girls something really useful, which they may value as they grow older.' i did not hear anymore, because mamma has always told us it is not right to listen, and so i came away as fast as i could." "well, i wonder what the present will be?" said emma, now quite convinced. "what should you think of two handsome work-boxes--or, perhaps, as i am the eldest, of a work-box for yourself, and writing-desk for me?" "that would be charming!" said emma; "and i would let you use my work-box, and you could lend me your writing-desk sometimes." "i will not make any promises," said louisa; "you know you are very careless, and i should not like my nice new desk to be stained with ink, or, perhaps, scratched with the point of a pin." "but mamma says i am growing more careful," said her sister; "and i do not think i am so heedless about other people's things, though i often spoil my own." "remember my wax doll," said louisa, "which you left in the garden through that heavy shower of rain, so that i could never play with it again." "o, that was such a very long time ago!" said emma, looking a little vexed. "perhaps it will not be a writing-desk nor a work-box that aunt harding will give us," said louisa; "there are many other things which we should like. i wish she would ask us to choose." "so do i," added emma; "but there is nothing that i should like better than a work-box." louisa thought of many other things which she should be glad to have; for she was apt to indulge in a foolish habit of wishing for what she was not likely to possess. it is a bad thing to give way to this failing; for by doing so we may often make ourselves unhappy, without any good or real cause. people who do so should think of the words of st. paul: "i have learned, in whatsoever state i am, therewith to be content." philip. iv, 11. and children, who have kind parents or friends to provide for all their wants, should learn that it is very sinful to let the thoughts be often dwelling upon things that they cannot have, and do not really need. pray for a grateful heart, that you may rejoice in the blessings that surround you, and be thankful to your heavenly father, who gives you all things richly to enjoy. chapter ii. the presents. mrs. harding, the aunt of these little girls, had been paying a farewell visit to their mamma, before going with mr. harding to india, where it was likely that they would remain for some years. she had kindly given many little presents to her nieces during her stay with them; but they were such as louisa and emma would cease to value when they became old enough to "put away childish things;" and being a person of piety and judgment, she wished her last gift to be one which might be worthy of their regard in youth and in age, and through all the changes of life. it did not take any long time to determine what this parting gift should be. the evening before she went away, she called louisa and emma into the room. they both looked round upon the table and chests of drawers, but no sign of a present was to be seen; no parcel neatly wrapped up in brown paper, nor anything like a work-box or a desk. but, to do them justice, the thought of what they might receive was not then uppermost in their mind; for their heart was full of grief at the prospect of parting with their aunt, whom they dearly loved, and who was going so very far away. "sit down beside me, dear children," said their aunt harding, "and let us have a little talk together, quietly by ourselves. i wish to give you a few parting words of advice. i am sure that you will not forget me when i am gone; and when you think of me, i hope that the good things which i have tried to teach you will also come into your mind." both louisa and emma said, again and again, that they could never forget her, and they promised to remember her advice. "your mamma will often write to me concerning you," said aunt harding, "and i cannot express the joy that it will afford me to hear that you are learning to hate sin more and more, and to live like children of our lord and saviour jesus christ. i shall be glad to find that you are improving in your studies, and i hope that every letter will bring me an account of your progress in useful knowledge; but i shall be far more anxious to hear of your being good and dutiful to your parents; and, above all, i shall long to know if you seek in earnest for the pardon of your sins, through the blood of christ, and whether there is any proof in your conduct that your evil hearts have been changed by the grace of the holy spirit." "if mamma sends you a good account of us," said louisa, "please to remember, aunt, that you promised to write to us when that was the case. and you will write to me first, because i am the eldest, you know." "since you claim to be thought of first," replied her aunt, "because you are a year older then your sister, i hope you intend to take the lead by setting before her a good example, that it may be well for her to imitate you in every respect." louisa blushed, and was silent. "we will try our very best, dear aunt," said emma, "that mamma may send you good news, and then you will write to us both. and, perhaps, before you come back, we shall be grown such good girls, that you will not be able to find fault with either of us." "i am afraid that is not very likely," said louisa; "for it seems as if we could not help being naughty sometimes. i am sure i have often said to myself, 'mamma shall not have to reprove me once to-day,' and yet, directly after, something has been amiss." "o! that is quite true," said emma, with a sigh. "the reason is this," their aunt replied; "you were born with an evil nature, which loves sin and leads you to do wrong, so that you cannot be good and dutiful of yourselves. when you have made such resolves, it has been in your own strength, without your having asked for help from god; and this being the case, it was not possible that you should keep from sin. the only way to lead a holy life is to put no trust in ourselves, to have a constant sense of our need of divine grace, and to pray earnestly that it may be given to us for christ's sake." "but you talk of my return," added she, "as if it were certain that we should meet again; yet how many things may happen to prevent it! nothing can be more uncertain than the future, though young people are apt to think that all will fall out just as they wish. i may not live to come back; or if i should be spared to do so, who can tell that you will be here to meet me? long before that time you may be laid low in the narrow grave. 'for what is your life? it is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.' james iv, 14." before their aunt harding had done speaking, both the children were in tears; for the thought that they might never see her again was more than they could bear. seeing that their hearts were softened to receive the word of instruction, she went on to talk to them in a kind and earnest manner on the great importance of preparing for another world, showing them their awful state without the saviour, and urging them to seek him at once by faith and prayer; then, further to impress her advice upon their minds, she unlocked a little cabinet which stood near her, and taking out two handsome bibles,[a] gave one to each of her nieces, telling them that as it was the best present she could give them, so she hoped they would value it, not only for her sake, but because it was the word of god, and taught the way of eternal life. after this, she desired them to kneel down with her, while she offered a fervent prayer that god would bless them, and that they might be led by the holy spirit into the fold of christ, who died to take away their sins. and she also prayed, that if they should never more see each other in this world, they and all whom they loved might meet again and be happy for ever in heaven. [footnote a: see frontispiece.] now i will not say that when the sisters were alone together, and looked at their handsome bibles, a thought of the work-box and the writing-desk never crossed their minds; but it is certain that there was not a word said upon the subject, and each seemed to be greatly pleased with her present, admiring the rich purple binding, and opening the book with care, to look at the name which had been nicely written by their aunt on one of the blank leaves at the beginning. in louisa's bible, just under her name, was the text, "open thou mine eyes, that i may behold wondrous things out of thy law," psa. cxix, 18; and in emma's, in the same place, was written, "i love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me." prov. viii, 17. chapter iii. use of the keepsakes. the next day was a sorrowful one, both to the friends who went away, and to those who were left behind. the children could talk of little else than their uncle and aunt harding. they asked their mother many questions about the journey they had begun, and the country to which they were going. when louisa and emma saw that their mamma was very sad, and not so ready as usual to join in their talk, they did not tease her, as some thoughtless children would have done, but each chose for herself a pleasant and quiet employment. louisa began to arrange the furniture in her baby-house, and emma brought a piece of brown silk from her drawer of treasures, and set about making a cover for her new bible. "why, emma, what are you about?" cried louisa, after watching her sister for a moment; "surely you are not going to use that beautiful book?" "yes, i am," said emma, quietly; "i mean to read a little in it every day. ah! i see that you think it will soon be torn and soiled; but i assure you i intend to be very careful; and look, what a nice cover this will make!" "i am afraid," said louisa, laughing, "you will never be careful as long as you live. to think of so soon beginning to use that handsome book! i have made up my mind to read a chapter every day, but not out of my new bible. i think the old one, that lies in the school-room, will do just as well." "so it would," returned emma; "and i thought of that myself last night, when aunt harding told us how much she wished us to be good, and to love the scriptures: but then the school-room bible is not always in its place, and that might sometimes hinder me from reading at all. now i shall keep this book in my little drawer in our room, where i can find it in a minute." "you must please yourself, i suppose," said louisa; "but i will ask mamma whether it is better to use aunt harding's bible or the old one." mrs. western heard what her little girl had to say, but did not give just the answer that louisa expected. "you are right," she said, "in supposing that it does not signify whether you read in an old bible or a new one. it is from the divine blessing upon what we read, and not from the book itself, that we must look for benefit to our souls. if you pray for this blessing with all your heart, you will find the way of salvation as plainly declared in the worn-out school-room bible as in your aunt harding's keepsake, with its purple binding and shining gilt leaves. but yet i approve of emma's wish to use her new bible from this time, and advise you to follow her example. for though it ought to be our great delight to read the scriptures, yet we have such sinful hearts, so ready to put off doing what is right for any poor excuse, that even such a little thing as having to look for the bible, when it happens to be mislaid, will be likely to prevent you from reading it so constantly as you intend." to this louisa made no reply. she had wrapped up her beautiful book in silver paper, and laid it carefully in a box, under lock and key, and she did not mean to disturb it, except perhaps now and then for a few moments, that it might be looked at and admired. as for emma, she went on fitting the brown silk cover as neatly as she could; and hoping that, if she prayed for the divine blessing, as her mother and aunt had told her, she might learn from her precious bible the way to be good and happy. chapter iv. two characters. it is time that i should tell you the age of these two little girls. louisa was just turned of ten, and emma was one year younger. i have no doubt that although you know so little about them, you already like emma better than her sister; and the reason of this is plain. no one could be long with louisa without finding out that she was a selfish child; while emma, though she had many faults, of which carelessness was the chief, was of a kind, good-natured disposition, always ready to oblige. louisa, too, was often willful, and would not give up her own way; while emma was humble-minded, knowing that she had much to learn, and thankful to be taught. both of these children were sinners, like all who are born into this sinful world: but louisa cared little about the concerns of her soul; while emma had begun to pray in secret for pardon through christ her saviour, and for the new heart which is the gift of his holy spirit. reader, you too are a sinner, and by nature far from god. do you ever consider what is your present state? have you been brought near to him by the blood of christ, the new and living way? you may have heard of these things before, but without giving heed to the salvation of your own soul, or seeking to prepare for the world to come. if this has been the case, pause now, and ask yourself whither you are going, and what must be the end, if you do not repent and turn from sin. there are many awful texts in the bible concerning those who trifle with the offers of divine mercy, and harden their hearts against the saviour's gracious call. o! pray that you may not be one of this unhappy number. seek the lord while he may be found, before the day of grace is past. god has said that his "spirit shall not always strive with man," gen. vi, 3; and if you will not repent to-day, to-morrow may be too late. emma's bible was nicely covered, and laid in her own little drawer; and every morning she read a chapter before she went down stairs. she prayed that god would teach her by his holy spirit to understand what she read; and though her prayers were very simple, and she scarcely knew what words to use, yet she felt sure that he would hear her, because he has promised to do so, for the sake of his dear son. and by degrees, as she began to love her bible more and more, she learned a habit of going to their little room alone, once in each day, to read a few verses in private, and to offer a short prayer to her "father who seeth in secret." matt, vi, 6. she found a great blessing in this; and it often happened that the thought of a text of scripture which she had been reading in her room alone would come into her mind when she was afterward tempted to say or do something wrong, and thus help to keep her from sin. it was not so with louisa. the bible was often wanted in the schoolroom--for the children had a governess who came to teach them every day; and louisa soon found it too much trouble to take the book up stairs at night, and to carry it down again the next morning. besides this, she did not always rise from her bed in time to read a chapter, so that it was often put off till after breakfast, and then it commonly happened that she had other things to do, and did not read it at all. emma would sometimes gently remind her that her bible reading had been forgotten; but this made louisa so cross that she left off doing so at last. the truth was, that this poor child had no real love for the scriptures; and as she did not seek for grace to help her, the good resolves that she had made passed away quickly from her mind. the difference between the sisters was seen in their outward conduct; for emma's reading of the bible would have been in vain if the effects had not been shown in her temper and daily life. i do not mean to say that she never went wrong; for emma had still an evil nature, and a sinful heart, often leading her to forget the commands of god. but she was truly sorry when this had been the case, and would ask to be forgiven with many tears; and she also prayed for divine grace, that she might try to be more watchful for the time to come. louisa, on the other hand, thought too highly of herself to be easily convinced of a fault; and as she seldom received reproof in an humble and proper manner, she made but little progress toward improvement. chapter v. letters from india. some months passed before there came a letter from mrs. harding; for india, as you know, is many thousands of miles from here, and it takes a long time for a ship to sail over the wide sea which lies between. but great was the joy of the children and their mother when at last the good tidings came that, through the mercy of god, their friends had reached that distant country, safe and well. louisa danced and clapped her hands; and emma felt very happy, sitting beside her mother, and looking up in her face, while she read the letter through tears of pleasure. mrs. harding had written a few lines to the children, which their mother read aloud to them, and then allowed them to look at for themselves. the words were these: "i often think of you, dear louisa and emma, and pray for divine blessings upon you both; and i hope to hear that you are giving yourselves to the saviour, who died upon the cross for you. you know the love of jesus for the young; his kindness to them when he was upon earth; and the tender way in which he still invites them to come to him. go, then, to christ without delay: ask him to be your friend, and you will be happy for evermore." a few weeks after this letter had been received, mrs. western's birthday arrived, when it was usual for her children to have a holiday and a little treat. on the morning of this day, as emma was running up stairs, her mamma called to her from her dressing-room, and desired her to come in, and to shut the door. emma did as she was bid; and then mrs. western, with a smile on her face, told her to look round, and try if she could discover anything in the room that she had not seen before. almost before her mother had done speaking, the little girl fixed her eyes upon a handsome work-box, standing upon the table with the lid open, and showing a lining of pale blue silk, edged with silver; while within were scissors and thimble, an abundance of needles and cotton, everything, in short, that emma had long been wishing for in vain. "it is yours, my dear," said her mamma; "it is a present from your aunt harding, who, in her letter, requested me to choose for you on my birthday something that you would like, if your conduct should have been such as to deserve a token of our approval. i am happy to see that you strive to amend your faults, and i trust that you will still go on trying to improve." "o, mamma, how beautiful! and how kind in aunt harding! indeed i will try to deserve it." and the little girl went close to the box, and looked at its contents, but without venturing to touch them; then gently closing the lid, she stood gazing upon it with silent delight. "but, mamma," said emma, looking up with a sudden thought, and casting her eyes round the room as if in search of something which was not to be seen, "where is louisa's present? she would like a writing-desk, i know; for the old work-box which she has had so long is not yet worn out, because she is so very careful." "i am sorry to say," returned mrs. western, "that louisa is not deserving of any present, and therefore it would have been wrong to provide one for her." at hearing this, emma changed color, and looked almost ready to cry. "dear mamma," said she, "do pray have pity on poor louisa. i cannot bear to show her my beautiful box, if she is not to have a present too. she would be so much grieved." "my dear," said mrs. western, "do you not perceive that it would be unjust and contrary to your aunt's wish, if, while louisa gives way to her faults, i were to treat her as though she were seeking to overcome them? it is quite as painful to me as to yourself to make this needful difference between you; but in all our actions we must think of what is _right_, and not of what it would be _pleasant_ to do. when i see any sign of improvement in your sister, i shall gladly provide her with a writing-desk; but not till then." emma paused for a moment; her eyes filled with tears, and the color rose to her face. "then mamma," said she, "i will wait, if you please, for my work-box, until you think proper to give louisa her desk. please to put it away in some safe place, and i will not say anything about it. i can do very well without the box a little while longer, you know." when mrs. western found that emma was willing to deny herself a pleasure rather than give pain to her sister, she consented to her wish, because she desired to encourage kind and tender feelings between them; and she knew it would be easy to find some other way of showing louisa that her friends were grieved and displeased by her conduct. so the work-box was safely put away for the present; though emma had her hopes that the time would soon come when, with the promised writing-desk, it might be again brought forward. chapter vi. trouble between sisters. i have told you that emma was not without her faults; and whether she was a little lifted up by her mother's approval, so that she became less watchful over herself, and felt less her need of the grace of god, i cannot say: but so it was, that on the very same evening of their mother's birthday, the sisters had a quarrel, which would certainly have been worse, if mrs. western had not been sitting by. louisa was the first to blame; but, on the other hand, emma did not behave like a meek and christian child. it was about louisa's old work-box that this quarrel took place. emma wished to have the use of it for a short time, as louisa did not want it herself: but louisa, as you have seen, was not very willing to lend; and some sharp and unkind words passed between them, such as children too often use when they give way to angry and sinful passions. no doubt the thought of her own work-box was in emma's mind when she said, "you are selfish and ill-natured, louisa, and do not deserve that people should give up any pleasure for you." while she was speaking, she saw her mother's eyes turned toward her with a look of surprise and sorrow; and at the same moment the words of scripture, "be kindly affectioned one toward another," came into her mind. she blushed and looked down while mrs. western reproved them both, and told them of the grief which, she felt on account of their sinful conduct, reminding them also of the example of the meek and lowly jesus, who has commanded us to live in love. emma was soon brought to tears, and went out of the room to weep alone, and ask forgiveness, for her saviour's sake, from the holy god whom she had displeased by her sin: but louisa, as usual, was inclined to be sullen, and did not think that she had been at all in the wrong. upon this, her mother pointed out to her the unkindness of refusing so small a favor to her sister; and in the hope of bringing her to a sense of her fault, she told her what had passed in the morning, and made known to her the whole affair of the work-box. louisa was so much struck by this proof of emma's love, that her heart was quite softened, and she not only owned that she had done amiss, but ran to seek her sister, and asked her to forget their quarrel and be friends. emma was very glad to agree to this, and was also ready to take her share of blame, saying that she had been very wrong in speaking so unkindly, and she hoped never to be so naughty again. it was pleasant after this, to see louisa's desire that her sister should use the old work-box, and what care emma showed in keeping all its contents nicely in their place. the loss of the birthday present had a great effect upon louisa, so that she became more watchful over her temper and conduct. in a few months she had improved so much, that though she was still far from being all that could be wished, yet her mother thought she might safely buy her the writing-desk, according to the desire of her aunt harding. emma had still waited for her work-box with hope and patience; and you may imagine the joy of both when they at last received these long wished-for gifts. and as emma was now not so careless as formerly, and louisa had grown more kind, the work-box and the writing-desk were often lent in exchange; while the sisters soon found out the truth of what their mother told them, that such little frequent acts of mutual kindness do more to increase love than those greater deeds which children sometimes talk about, but seldom have the power to perform. the second packet from aunt harding was received with not less joy than the first; for there was in it a letter for louisa and emma; and that she might show no favor to one above the other, she had directed it to both. louisa, however, claimed and was allowed the privilege of breaking the seal. i wish you could have seen their happy faces, as emma leaned upon her sister's shoulder to read the welcome letter which had been sent to them from a country so distant, and by a friend whom they loved so well. chapter vii. aunt harding's letter. would you like to know what aunt harding wrote to her nieces? here then is the letter, word for word:-"my dear children, louisa and emma,--it is with great pleasure that i read in your mamma's letter the account of your improvement, and i am glad to fulfill the promise which i made of writing to you when that should be the case. i hope that you will go on trying to grow better and better; and for this end you should pray daily for the grace of god to help you every moment of your lives. without his grace the evil desires of your sinful hearts will lead you from the right way; and as one sin always brings on others, you would, if left to yourselves, wander further and further from that which is good, until you lost all love for your saviour and his commands. "i often think of you, and wish that you could see the poor little hindoo children, who have never heard of the true god, but are taught by their heathen parents to kneel down, and pray to idols of wood and stone. there is a river in this country, the river ganges, which the people believe to be a goddess, and they think that its waters can wash away their sins. mothers often bring their little infants and bathe them in this river, because they believe it will make them holy. do you not pity these poor people, whose souls are perishing for want of knowledge? do you not wish that some one would go among them, and tell them about jesus the son of god, who gave himself to die for sinners, and whose blood alone can wash away sin? if so, you will be glad to know that there are some good men here who have left their own dear home and friends to live in this heathen country, and to teach the poor hindoos the true and only way to heaven. christians in other places, who love the saviour, and wish that the heathen should learn to love him too, give money to send these good men here, and to pay for bibles, and for other books which have been written on purpose to show how sinners may be saved. all may help to do this who will spare a little money from their own wishes and wants. _you_ may help, if you love the saviour enough to deny yourselves some little pleasure now and then. i think you would resolve to do so, if you could go with me sometimes to the missionary school, and see the little children sitting in rows, learning to read about jesus, and hear them asking for more books to take home, that they may tell the tidings of salvation to their heathen parents. o yes! i am sure you would want to help them then; for you would remember that heathen children, like yourselves, have souls which must live for ever and ever; and you would long that they should come to the knowledge of the saviour, who died for them as well as for you. "it is now time that i should finish this long letter; so farewell, dear louisa and emma. your uncle sends his love to you. we often talk of you, and pray that you may be the children of god, through faith in his dear son. your ever affectionate, "aunt harding." chapter viii. use of money. emma found a great deal to think about in this letter, and it led to frequent talk with her mother about the heathen, for whom she began to feel much concern. when she heard how christian people were trying to help them, and had read some accounts which her mother lent to her, telling of the happy change that, through the blessing of god, had been brought about in many cases by the preaching of the gospel, she wished that louisa and herself could join in doing something, though ever so little, for this good cause. the love of christ was in her heart: when this is the case, it will be sure to show itself in love for the souls of others. but louisa, when spoken to on the subject, said that she had not anything to give. "i am very sorry, though, that the poor hindoos should worship idols," she said; "and when i grow older, and have more money, i will do a great deal for them, depend upon it." "but why not help them a little _now_?" said emma. "because i have no money," replied louisa; "no money i mean except what is in my little savings bank, and i should not like to part with that. as for you, emma, you never can save up a shilling; so that i am sure you have not anything to spare." "ah," said emma, "that is true, to be sure; i never can save my money, and so i will tell you what i mean to do. mamma gives us threepence a week, to spend as we please, you know; but i will only take twopence for the time to come, and i shall ask her to give the other pennies to the tract society at the end of the year. four shillings and fourpence is not much, indeed, yet it will buy some nice little books for the hindoo children in the schools; and if you will also give a penny a week, that will buy just as many more." it was of no use. louisa would not be persuaded to do anything for the heathen _yet_. emma gave her penny a week, and felt happy in giving it; while louisa only talked of doing so by and by. if louisa had loved her saviour and her bible, she would have felt it a delight to assist in sending the glad tidings of the gospel to heathen lands; but when the heart has not been changed by the holy spirit, we feel but little concern for our own souls, and do not care for the salvation of others. emma was not led away by the example of her sister; but as she grew older she seemed to grow in grace, and in the knowledge and love of christ. this will always be the case with those who believe the promises of god, and seek for divine assistance to enable them to obey his word. we can do nothing of ourselves, for we are poor, guilty, helpless sinners: but god, who has given his only son to die for our sins, has also promised to give his holy spirit to them that ask it. therefore, though we feel ourselves ever so weak and sinful, we need not despair of growing better, if we also feel our need of christ, and go to him for help and pardon. louisa and emma had often heard that life is short and uncertain; but it is not easy for young people to feel the truth of this while they are healthy and strong. when emma was about twelve years old she was taken very ill, so that there was from the first but little hope that she would recover. then she felt that it is an awful thing to die; and the thought of the soul, which cannot die, and of heaven and hell, were far more solemn than they had ever seemed to her before. at first she was greatly afraid of death, for she knew she was a sinner, and deserving of the anger of god; but by degrees, as she lay on her sick bed, there came into her mind many sweet verses of the bible, which she had learned in her days of health, and which gave her comfort, by telling her of the love of jesus the lamb of god, who taketh away the sins of the world. do you think she was sorry, now, that she had spent so many hours in reading that holy and blessed book? no; for the promises of mercy and salvation which it held out to her was her only support through many hours of pain and suffering, when death seemed near, and eternity close at hand. though too ill to read, or even to listen to the words of life, she could remember many of them in her heart, and think of them to her comfort in this season of trial. sometimes she was able to talk to her mother for a few minutes, when it was plain that her mind was chiefly filled with thoughts of christ and things divine. and she often said that, if it should be the will of god to restore her to health, she hoped for grace to devote herself to his service, and to live more to his glory than she had ever done before. she also spoke oftener to her sister, begging her to think of her soul, to read her bible more, and to seek for the pardon of her sins; and louisa, who was in great distress at the thought of losing her, was ready to promise anything that she asked. but it did not appear that she was under any concern for her own state; and this was a great trouble to poor emma, who now felt more than ever the need of preparing for the world to come. it pleased god to spare her life, though she grew better very slowly, and it was many weeks before she could leave her room. when her long and painful illness was over, she was again able to share with louisa in her lessons and her pleasures, so that in time those weeks of grief and suffering seemed to be forgotten; but they were not forgotten by emma: she did not forget the mercies she had received, and the resolve which she had made of leading a holy life: she daily prayed for an humble and watchful mind, and for grace to keep her from falling into sin; and, as you may suppose, she loved her bible more and more for the comfort which it had given her in the time of trouble. she still took pleasure in reading it alone, and prayed that she might have grace to obey its commands, so that it might be a lamp unto her feet and a light unto her path. psa. cxix, 105. chapter ix. aunt harding's return. and now two more years had passed away, and the time when their aunt harding's return was looked for had come. they had talked of it all through the winter; and when spring was over, and summer begun, the happy tidings came that the ship had arrived in safety, and their uncle and aunt harding were on their way to visit them once more. i will leave you to guess the joy that was felt by all; and you must picture to yourself the pleasure of their meeting soon afterward: how thankful all were that they were spared to behold each other again; with uncle harding's surprise at seeing two great girls instead of little louisa and emma; and aunt harding's smiles, and her hopes that there would be found an equal improvement in matters of more importance. the morning after she came, when mrs. harding began to unpack her boxes, louisa and emma caught sight of many pretty and curious things which she told them were intended as presents for themselves. "but before we proceed any further," said she, as the girls were beginning to express their thanks and pleasure, "i wish to inquire about the parting keepsake which i gave to you; and i should be glad to see how each book has been treated, that i may know the real value which you set upon the gift." louisa and emma both ran to fulfill their aunt's desire. to speak the truth, louisa was now in hopes of having all the praise. she quickly brought in her handsome bible, still wrapped in the soft white paper, and in all the gloss of newness: not a mark upon the rich purple binding, not a speck upon the bright gilt leaves. emma, too, brought hers, but with a more timid look; the neat brown silk cover was faded and worn--she had thought of making a new one only the day before--and the brightness was gone from the leaves, and the binding seemed rather loose, for the book opened easily, and there were some pages, less white than others, which looked as if they had been often read. to louisa's surprise, mrs. harding laid down her book without saying a word, while, as soon as she took emma's bible into her hand, she smiled with pleasure, although tears came into her eyes. "_this_ book has been valued as it ought to be," said she; "it has been used with care, but often used, so that i trust it has been found a guide and a help to heaven. but yours, louisa"--and she pointed to the beautiful bible which lay upon the table--"yours has been laid aside, like the talent which was buried in the earth. it has been of no benefit to your soul, for you seem hardly ever to have looked to it for instruction; as if its real worth consisted in outside ornament, you have been careful to keep that from injury, but have never sought or cared for the treasure that is within. but dry your tears, my dear louisa," added aunt harding kindly. "i am not angry, for i know that your mistaken care was in some measure caused by your love for me. i am only sorry that my parting present has not been of the use which i intended. but it is not yet too late for you to learn that, while your bible should be kept with proper care--for it is the word of god--yet it was given for our daily study, that we might read it, pray over it, and practice it; and thus, by the divine blessing, become 'wise unto salvation through faith which is in christ jesus.'" 2 tim. iii, 15. "i trust," said the kind aunt, looking at her two nieces with much affection; "i trust that my dear emma knows and loves her saviour, and takes delight in the scriptures, because they testify of him. may you both have grace to love him above all things, to do his will, and to put your trust in him for evermore; and then the heartfelt desire of your aunt harding will be fulfilled." reader, beware how you neglect the word of god. but remember it is not by merely reading it that you are to look for a blessing to your soul. you must pray for the teaching of the holy spirit, who alone can open your understanding, and incline your heart to heavenly wisdom, that you may not read in vain. * * * * * prayer for divine guidance. o that the lord would guide my ways to keep his statutes still! o that my god would grant me grace to know and do his will! o send thy spirit down to write thy law upon my heart! nor let my tongue indulge deceit, nor act the liar's part. from vanity turn off mine eyes; let no corrupt design, nor covetous desires, arise within this soul of mine. order my footsteps by thy word, and make my heart sincere: let sin have no dominion, lord, but keep my conscience clear. my soul hath gone too far astray, my feet too often slip; yet, since i've not forgot thy way, restore thy wand'ring sheep. make me to walk in thy commands, 'tis a delightful road; nor let my head, or heart, or hands, offend against my god. * * * * * value of the scriptures to the young how shall the young secure their hearts, and guard their lives from sin? thy word the choicest rules imparts to keep the conscience clean. when once it enters to the mind, it spreads such light abroad, the meanest souls instruction find, and raise their thoughts to god. 'tis like the sun, a heavenly light that guides us all the day; and through the dangers of the night, a lamp to lead our way. thy precepts make me truly wise; i hate the sinner's road: i hate my own vain thoughts that rise, but love thy law, my god. thy word is everlasting truth; how pure is every page! that holy book shall guide our youth, and well support our age. the end. * * * * * books published for the sunday-school union of the methodist episcopal church. * * * * * kindness to animals; showing the sin of cruelty. by charlotte elizabeth. price eighteen cents. the m'gregor family. price eighteen cents. the cottage on the moor; or, the evils of pride. price eighteen cents. old anthony's hints to young people, to make them cheerful and wise. price twenty cents. the jew among all nations, showing the present condition of that wonderful people. price twenty-one cents. the egyptian, by the author of the jew. price twenty-one cents. the strange planet, and other allegories, designed to illustrate important subjects by al haines. fanny, the flower-girl; or, honesty rewarded. to which are added other tales. by selina bunbury. fanny, the flower-girl "come, buy my flowers; flowers fresh and fair. come, buy my flowers. please ma'am, buy a nice bunch of flowers, very pretty ones, ma'am. please, sir, to have some flowers; nice, fresh ones, miss; only just gathered; please look." thus spoke, or sometimes sung, a little girl of perhaps eight years old, holding in her hand a neat small basket, on the top of which lay a clean white cloth, to shade from the sun the flowers which she praised so highly, and a little bunch of which she presented to almost every passer-by, in the hope of finding purchasers; while, after one had passed rudely on, another had looked at her young face and smiled, another had said, "what a nice child!" but not one had taken the flowers, and left the penny or the half-penny that was to pay for them the little girl, as if accustomed to all this, only arranged again the pretty nosegays that had been disarranged in the vain hope of selling them, and commenced anew in her pretty singing tone, "come, buy my flowers; flowers fresh and fair." "your flowers are sadly withered, my little maid," said a kind, country-looking gentleman, who was buying some vegetables at a stall near her. "oh, sir! i have fresh ones, here, sir; please look;" and the child lifted up the cover of her basket, and drew from the very bottom a bunch of blossoms on which the dew of morning still rested. "please to see, sir; a pretty rose, sir, and these pinks and mignonette, and a bunch of jessamine, sir, and all for one penny." "bless thee! pretty dear!" said the old lame vegetable-seller, "thou'lt make a good market-woman one of these days. your honor would do well to buy her flowers, sir, she has got no mother or father, god help her, and works for a sick grandmother." "poor child!" said the old gentleman. "here, then, little one, give me three nice nosegays, and there is sixpence for you." with delight sparkling in every feature of her face, and her color changed to crimson with joy, the little flower-girl received in one hand the unusual piece of money; and setting her basket on the ground, began hastily and tremblingly to pick out nearly half its contents as the price of the sixpence; but the gentleman stooped down, and taking up at random three bunches of the flowers, which were not the freshest, said, "here, these will do; keep the rest for a more difficult customer. be a good child; pray to god, and serve him, and you will find he is the father of the fatherless." and so he went away; and the flower-girl, without waiting to put her basket in order, turned to the old vegetable-seller, and cried, "sixpence! a whole sixpence, and all at once. what will grandmother say now? see!" and opening her hand, she displayed its shining before her neighbor's eyes. "eh!" exclaimed the old man, as he approached his eyes nearer to it. "eh! what is this? why thou hast twenty sixpences there; this is a half-sovereign!" "twenty sixpences! why the gentleman said, there is sixpence for thee," said the child. "because he didn't know his mistake," replied the other; "i saw him take the piece out of his waistcoat-pocket without looking." "oh dear! what shall i do?" cried the little girl. "why, thou must keep it, to be sure," replied the old man; "give it to thy grandmother, she will know what to do with it, i warrant thee." "but i must first try to find the good gentleman, and tell him of his mistake," said the child. "i know what grandmother would say else; and he cannot be far off, i think, because he was so fat; he will go slow, i am sure, this hot morning. here, mr. williams, take care of my basket, please, till i come back." and without a word more, the flower-girl put down her little basket at the foot of the vegetable-stall, and ran away as fast as she could go. when she turned out of the market-place, she found, early as it was, that the street before her was pretty full; but as from the passage the gentleman had taken to leave the market-place, she knew he could only have gone in one direction, she had still hopes of finding him; and she ran on and on, until she actually thought she saw the very person before her; he had just taken off his hat, and was wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "that is him," said the little flower-girl, "i am certain;" but just as she spoke, some persons came between her and the gentleman, and she could not see him. still she kept running on; now passing off the foot-path into the street, and then seeing the fat gentleman still before her; and then again getting on the foot-path, and losing sight of him, until at last she came up quite close to him, as he was walking slowly, and wiping the drops of heat from his forehead. the poor child was then quite out of breath; and when she got up to him she could not call out to him to stop, nor say one word; so she caught hold of the skirt of his coat, and gave it a strong pull. the gentleman started, and clapped one hand on his coat-pocket, and raised up his cane in the other, for he was quite sure it was a pickpocket at his coat. but when he turned, he saw the breathless little flower-girl, and he looked rather sternly at her, and said, "well, what do you want; what are you about? eh!" "oh, sir!" said the girl; and then she began to cough, for her breath was quite spent. "see, sir; you said you gave me sixpence, and mr. williams says there are twenty sixpences in this little bit of money." "dear me!" said the gentleman; "is it possible? could i have done such a thing?" and he began to fumble in his waistcoat pocket. "well, really it is true enough," he added, as he drew out a sixpence. "see what it is to put gold and silver together." "i wish he would give it to me," thought the little flower-girl; "how happy it would make poor granny; and perhaps he has got a good many more of these pretty gold pieces." but the old gentleman put out his hand, and took it, and turned it over and over, and seemed to think a little; and then he put his hand into his pocket again, and took out his purse; and he put the half-sovereign into the purse, and took out of it another sixpence. "well," he said, "there is the sixpence i owe you for the flowers; you have done right to bring me back this piece of gold; and there is another sixpence for your race; it is not a reward, mind, for honesty is only our duty, and you only did what is right; but you are tired, and have left your employment, and perhaps lost a customer, so i give you the other sixpence to make you amends." "thank you, sir," said the flower-girl, curtseying; and taking the two sixpences into her hand with a delighted smile, was going to run back again, when the old gentleman, pulling out a pocket-book, said, "stay a moment; you are an orphan, they tell me; what is your name?" "fanny, sir." "fanny what?" "please, i don't know, sir; grandmother is mrs. newton, sir; but she says she is not my grandmother either, sir." "well, tell me where mrs. newton lives," said the gentleman, after looking at her a minute or so, as if trying to make out what she meant. so fanny told him, and he wrote it down in his pocket-book, and then read over what he had written to her, and she said it was right. "now, then, run away back," said he, "and sell all your flowers, if you can, before they wither, for they will not last long this warm day; flowers are like youth and beauty--do you ever think of that? even the rose withereth afore it groweth up." and this fat gentleman looked very sad, for he had lost all his children in their youth. "o yes! sir; i know a verse which says that," replied fanny. "all flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of grass--but good morning, and thank you, sir," and away fanny ran. and now, before going on with my story, i must go back to tell who and what fanny, the flower-girl, was. mrs. newton, whom she called her grandmother, was now a poor old woman, confined to her bed by a long and trying illness, that had nearly deprived her of the use of her limbs. but she had not been always thus afflicted. some years before, mrs. newton lived in a neat cottage near the road-side, two or three miles from one of the great sea-port towns of england. her husband had good employment, and they were both comfortable and happy. just eight years from this time, it happened that one warm summer's day, mrs. newton went to look out from her cottage door down the road, and she saw a young woman standing there, leaning against a tree, and looking very faint and weak. she was touched with pity and asked the poor traveller to walk into her house and rest. the young woman thankfully consented, for she said she was very ill; but she added, that her husband was coming after her, having been obliged to turn back for a parcel that was left behind at the house where they had halted some time before, and therefore she would sit near the door and watch for him. before, however, the husband came, the poor woman was taken dreadfully ill; and when he did arrive, good mrs. newton could not bear to put the poor creature out of the house in such a state; she became worse and worse. in short, that poor young woman was fanny's mother, and when little fanny was born, that poor sick mother died, and fanny never saw a mother's smile. the day after the young woman's death, kind mrs. newton came into the room where her cold body was laid out on the bed; and there was her husband, a young, strong-looking man, sitting beside it; his elbows were on his knees, and his face was hid in his open hands. mrs. newton had the baby in her arms, and she spoke to its father as she came in; he looked up to her; his own face was as pale as death; and he looked at her without saying a word. she saw he was in too much grief either to speak or weep. so she went over silently to him, and put the little baby into his arms, and then said, "may the lord look down with pity on you both." as soon as the unhappy young man heard these compassionate words, and saw the face of his pretty, peaceful babe, he burst into tears; they rolled in large drops down on the infant's head. then in a short time he was able to speak, and he told mrs. newton his sad little history; how he had no one in the whole world to look with pity on him, or his motherless child; and how god alone was his hope in this day of calamity. his father had been displeased with him because he had married that young woman, whom he dearly loved; and he had given him some money that was his portion, and would do nothing else for him. the young man had taken some land and a house, but as the rent was too high, he could not make enough of the land to pay it; so he had been obliged to sell all his goods, and he had only as much money left as would, with great saving, carry him to america, where he had a brother who advised him to go out there. "and now," said he, looking over at the pale face of his dear wife, "what shall i do with the little creature she has left me? how shall i carry it over the wide ocean without a mother to care for it, and nurse it?" "you cannot do so," said mrs. newton, wiping her eyes; "leave it with me; i have no children of my own, my husband would like to have one; this babe shall lie in my bosom, and be unto me as a daughter. i will nurse it for you until you are settled in america, and send or come for it." the young man wept with gratitude; he wanted to know how he was to repay mrs. newton, but she said for the present she did not want payment, that it would be a pleasure to her to have the baby; and it would be time enough to talk about payment when the father was able to claim it, and take it to a home. so the next day they buried the poor young woman, and soon after the young man went away and sailed off to america, and from that day to this mrs. newton had never heard anything of him. as she had said, that poor little motherless babe lay in her bosom, and was unto her as a daughter; she loved it; she loved it when it was a helpless little thing, weak and sickly; she loved it when it grew a pretty lively baby, and would set its little feet on her knees, and crow and caper before her face; she loved it when it began to play around her as she sat at work, to lisp out the word "ganny," for she taught it to call her grandmother; she loved it when it would follow her into her nice garden, and pick a flower and carry it to her, as she sat in the little arbor; and she, holding the flower, would talk to it of god who made the flower, and made the bee that drew honey from the flower, and made the sun that caused the flower to grow, and the light that gave the flower its colors, and the rain that watered it, and the earth that nourished it. and she loved that child when it came back from the infant school, and climbed up on her lap, or stood with its hands behind its back, to repeat some pretty verses about flowers, or about the god who made them. that child was fanny, the flower-girl; and ah! how little did good mrs. newton think she would be selling flowers in the streets to help to support her. but it came to pass, that when fanny was nearly six years old, mrs. newton's husband fell very ill; it was a very bad, and very expensive illness, for poor mrs. newton was so uneasy, she would sometimes have two doctors to see him; but all would not do; he died: and mrs. newton was left very poorly off. in a short time she found she could not keep on her pretty cottage; she was obliged to leave it; and the church where she had gone every sunday for so many years; and the church-yard where her husband was buried, and little fanny's mother; and the infant school where fanny learned so much; and the dear little garden, and the flowers that were fanny's teachers and favorites. oh! how sorry was poor mrs. newton. but even a little child can give comfort; and so little fanny, perhaps without thinking to do so, did; for when mrs. newton for the last time sat out in her garden, and saw the setting sun go down, and told fanny she was going to leave that pretty garden, where she had from infancy been taught to know god's works, the child looked very sad and thoughtful indeed, for some time; but afterwards coming up to her, said, "but, grandmother, we shall not leave god, shall we? for you say god is everywhere, and he will be in london too." and oh! how that thought consoled poor mrs. newton; she did not leave god,--god did not leave her. so she left the abode of her younger years--the scene of her widowhood; and she went away to hire a poor lodging in the outlets of london; but her god was with her, and the child she had nursed in her prosperity was her comfort in adversity. matters, however, went no better when she lived with little fanny in a poor lodging. she had only one friend in london, and she lived at a distance from her. mrs. newton fell ill; there was no one to nurse her but fanny; she could no longer pay for her schooling, and sometimes she was not able to teach her herself. all this seemed very hard, and very trying; and one would have been tempted to think that god was no longer with poor mrs. newton; that when she had left her cottage she had left the god who had been so good to her. but this would have been a great mistake. god was with mrs. newton; he saw fit to try and afflict her; but he gave her strength and patience to bear her trials and afflictions. one afternoon her friend came to pay her a visit: she was going out a little way into the country to see a relation who had a very fine nursery-garden, and she begged mrs. newton to let little fanny go with her own daughter. mrs. newton was very glad to do so for she thought it would be a nice amusement for fanny. the nurseryman was very kind to her; and when she was going away gave her a fine bunch of flowers. fanny was in great delight, for she loved flowers and knew her dear grandmother loved them too. but as she was coming back, and just as she was entering the streets, she met a lady and a little boy of about three years old, who directly held out his hands and began to beg for the flowers. his mamma stopped, and as fanny was very poorly dressed, she thought it probable that she would sell her nosegay, and so she said, "will you give that bunch of flowers to my little boy, and i will pay you for it?" "please, ma'am, they are for grandmother," said fanny blushing, and thinking she ought to give the flowers directly, and without money to any one who wished for them. "but perhaps your grand-mother would rather have this sixpence?" said the lady. and mrs. newton's friend, who had just come up, said, "well, my dear, take the lady's sixpence, and let her have the flowers if she wishes for them." so fanny held the flowers to the lady, who took them and put the sixpence in her hand. fanny wished much to ask for one rose, but she thought it would not be right to do so, when the lady had bought them all: and she looked at them so very longingly that the lady asked if she were sorry to part with them. "oh! no, ma'am," cried her friend, "she is not at all sorry--come now, don't be a fool, child," she whispered, and led fanny on. "that is a good bargain for you," she added as she went on; "that spoiled little master has his own way, i think; it would be well for you, and your grandmother too, if you could sell sixpenny worth of flowers every day." "do you think i could, ma'am?" said fanny, opening her hand and looking at her sixpence, "this will buy something to do poor granny good; do you think mr. simpson would give me a nosegay every day?" "if you were to pay him for it, he would," said her friend; "suppose you were to go every morning about five o'clock, as many others do, and buy some flowers, and then sell them at the market; you might earn something, and that would be better than being idle, when poor mrs. newton is not able to do for herself and you." so when fanny got back, she gave her dear grandmother the sixpence. "the lord be praised!" said mrs. newton, "for i scarcely knew how i was to get a loaf of bread for thee or myself to-morrow." and then fanny told her the plan she had formed about the flowers. mrs. newton was very sorry to think her dear child should be obliged to stand in a market place, or in the public streets, to offer anything for sale; but she said, "surely it is providence has opened this means of gaining a little bread, while i am laid here unable to do anything; and shall i not trust that providence with the care of my darling child?" so from this time forth little fanny set off every morning before five o'clock, to the nursery garden; and the nursery-man was very kind to her, and always gave her the nicest flowers; and instead of sitting down with the great girls, who went there also for flowers or vegetables, and tying them up in bunches, fanny put them altogether in her little basket, and went away to her grandmother's room, and spread them out on the little table that poor mrs. newton might see them, while the sweet dew was yet sparkling on their bright leaves. then she would tell how beautiful the garden looked at that sweet early hour; and mrs. newton would listen with pleasure, for she loved a garden. she used to say, that god placed man in a garden when he was happy and holy; and when he was sinful and sorrowful, it was in a garden that the blessed saviour wept and prayed for the sin of the world; and when his death had made atonement for that sin, it was in a garden his blessed body was laid. mrs. newton taught fanny many things from flowers; she was not a bad teacher, in her own simple way, but jesus christ, who was the best teacher the world ever had, instructed his disciples from vines and lilies, corn and fruit, and birds, and all natural things around them. and while fanny tied up her bunches of flowers, she would repeat some verses from the holy scriptures, such as this, "o lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches." and afterwards she would repeat such pretty lines as these:- "not worlds on worlds, in varied form, need we, to tell a god is here; the daisy, saved from winter's storm, speaks of his hand in lines as clear. "for who but he who formed the skies, and poured the day-spring's living flood, wondrous alike in all he tries, could rear the daisy's simple bud! "mould its green cup, its wiry stem, its fringed border nicely spin; and cut the gold-embossed gem, that, shrined in silver, shines within; "and fling it, unrestrained and free, o'er hill, and dale, and desert sod, that man, where'er he walks, may see, in every step the trace of god." "and i, too, have had my daisy given to me," poor mrs. newton would say, with tearful eyes, as she gazed on her little flower-girl; "i too have my daisy, and though it may be little cared for in the world, or trodden under foot of men, yet will it ever bear, i trust, the trace of god." but it happened the very morning that the gentleman had given fanny the half-sovereign in mistake, mrs. newton's money was quite spent; and she was much troubled, thinking the child must go the next morning to the garden without money to pay for her flowers, for she did not think it likely she would sell enough to buy what they required, and pay for them also; so she told fanny she must ask mr. simpson to let her owe him for a day or two until she got a little money she expected. fanny went therefore, and said this to the kind man at the garden; and he put his hand on her head, and said, "my pretty little girl, you may owe me as long as you please, for you are a good child, and god will prosper you." so fanny went back in great delight, and told this to mrs. newton; and to cheer her still more, she chose for her morning verse, the advice that our lord gave to all those who were careful and troubled about the things of this life "consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet i say unto you that solomon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. wherefore, if god so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, oh ye of little faith?" and then she repeated some verses which both she and mrs. newton liked very much. "lo! the lilies of the field, how their leaves instruction yield! hark to nature's lesson, given by the blessed birds of heaven. "say with richer crimson glows, the kingly mantle than the rose; say are kings more richly dressed, than the lily's glowing vest! "grandmother i forget the next verse," said fanny, interrupting herself; "i know it is something about lilies not spinning; but then comes this verse- "barns, nor hoarded store have we"-"it is not the lilies, grandmother, but the blessed birds that are speaking now- "barns, nor hoarded store have we, yet we carol joyously; mortals, fly from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow." poor mrs. newton clasped her thin hands, and looked up, and prayed like the disciples, "lord, increase our faith!" "eh!" said she, afterwards, "is it not strange that we can trust our lord and saviour with the care of our souls for eternity, and we cannot trust him with that of our bodies for a day." well! this was poor mrs. newton's state on that day, when the gentleman gave fanny the half-sovereign instead of sixpence, for her flowers. when the little flower-girl came back from her race with her two sixpences, she found the old vegetable-seller had got her three or four pennies more, by merely showing her basket, and telling why it was left at his stall; and so every one left a penny for the honest child, and hoped the gentleman would reward her well. the old man at the stall said it was very shabby of him only to give her sixpence; but when she went home with three sixpences and told mrs. newton this story, she kissed her little girl very fondly, but said the gentleman was good to give her sixpence, for he had no right to give her anything, she had only done her duty. "but, grandmother," said fanny, "when i saw that pretty half-sovereign dropping down to his purse, i could not help wishing he would give it to me." "and what commandment did you break then, my child?" "not the eighth--if i had kept the half-sovereign i should have broken it," said fanny, "for that says, thou shalt not steal--what commandment did i break, grandmother; for i did not steal?" "when we desire to have what is not ours fanny, what do we do? we covet; do we not?" "oh! yes--thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods," cried fanny, "that is the tenth commandment; and that half-sovereign was my neighbor's goods, and that fat gentleman was my neighbor. but, grandmother, it is very easy to break the tenth commandment." "very easy indeed, my dear," said mrs. newton, with first a faint smile, and then a deep sigh, "therefore," she added, "we ought always to pray like david, 'turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity.'" there is a very common saying, that when things are at the worst they mend. it is hard to say when matters are at the worst; poor mrs. newton knew they might yet be worse with her; but certainly, they were very bad; and a few days after this, as fanny was tying up her flowers as usual, she lay on her bed thinking what she was to do, and praying that god would direct her to some way of providing for the poor child. while she was thinking and praying, tears stole down her face; fanny saw them, and stopped her work, and looked sorrowfully at her-"now you are crying again, grandmother, she said," and that's what makes me break the tenth commandment, for i can't help wishing the gentleman had given me that half-sovereign. but i will say the verses again to-day about the lilies and birds; for you know i said that morning- 'mortals fly from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow,' and when i came back with my three sixpences, you said god _had_ provided for the morrow, for you had only two or three pennies in the house when i went out." "and how many pennies, pray, have you in the house to-day?" said a rather gruff voice at the door. mrs. newton and fanny started; but there, standing at the door, fanny saw the fat gentleman who had given her the half-sovereign. "so you have been wishing for my gold, you little rogue," he said, looking as if he meant to frighten her. "never mind," he added, smiling, "you are a good child, and did what was right; and i always meant to bring it back to you, but i have been kept rather busy these few days past. there it is for you, and try not to break the tenth commandment again." then turning to mrs. newton, he said, "we should not expect rewards, ma'am, for doing our duty, but if children do not meet with approbation when they do right, they may be discouraged, and perhaps think there is no use in being good: for they are silly little creatures, you know, and do not always recollect that god will reward the just one day if men do not." "oh! sir!" said poor mrs. newton, but the tears streamed down, and she could not say a word more. and there fanny sat gazing on the half-sovereign, as if she was half stupefied. "well, take up that bit of gold, and do what you like with it," said the fat gentleman; "and then run off to sell your flowers, for we must not be idle because we have got enough for to-day. but do what you like with that money." fanny rose up from her seat, and looking very much as if she was moving in her sleep, with her wondering eyes fixed on the shining piece that lay in her hand, she walked slowly over to mrs. newton, and putting it into hers, said,-"may i go to the grocer's now, grandmother, and get you the tea for your breakfast?" "yes, my love," said mrs. newton, kissing her, "and take care of this, and bring back the change carefully." then turning to the gentleman, she said, "i am not young, sir, and i am very, very poorly; i find it hard to go without my tea, but it is a luxury i have been obliged latterly to forego." "but could you not get tea on credit, from the grocer?" said the gentleman. "oh! yes, i believe so; but there would be no use in getting credit;" said mrs. newton, "for i am not certain of being better able to pay next week than i am this week; and when i have not the money to pay for what i wish to get, it is better to do without it, than to add to one's anxieties by running in debt. do you not think so, sir?" "ma'am," said the old gentleman, sitting down, and resting his large silver-topped stick between his knees, "it is of very little consequence what i think; but if you wish to know this, i will tell you that i think very well both of you and your little girl, who, as i have heard, for i have made inquiries about you both, is a dependant on your bounty. you have trained her up well, though i wouldn't praise the child to her face; and so take as much tea as you like till you hear from me again, and your grocer need be in no trouble about his bill." so after the fat gentleman had made this rather bluff, but honest-hearted speech, and poor mrs. newton had wept, and thanked him in language that sounded more polite, the good old gentleman told her his whole history. he began the world very poor, and without relations able to assist him; he was at last taken into the employment of a young merchant in the city; he had a turn for business, and having been able to render some important services to this young man, he was finally, to his own surprise, and that of every one else, taken into partnership. "during all this time," said he, "i was attached from my boyhood to the daughter of the poor schoolmaster who first taught me to read; i would not marry her while i was poor, for i thought that would be to make her wretched instead of happy; but when i was taken into partnership i thought my way was clear; i went off to bethnal green, and told mary, and our wedding-day was settled at once. well, we were glad enough, to be sure; but a very few days after, my partner called me into the private room, and said he wanted to consult me. he seemed in high spirits, and he told me he had just heard of a famous speculation, by which we could both make our fortunes at once. he explained what it was, and i saw with shame and regret, that no really honest man could join in it: i told him so; i told him plainly i would have nothing to do with it. you may think what followed; the deeds of partnership were not yet signed, and in short, in two or three days more i found myself poor jack walton again--indeed, poorer than i was before i was made one of the firm of charters and walton, for i had lost my employment. "often and often i used to think that david said, he had never seen the righteous forsaken; yet i was suffering while the unrighteous were prospering. it was a sinful, and a self-righteous thought, and i was obliged to renounce it; when, after some time of trial, a gentleman sent for me--a man of wealth, and told me his son was going into business on his own account; that he had heard of my character, and of the cause of my leaving mr. charters; that he thought i would be just such a steady person as he wished his son to be with. in short, i began with him on a handsome salary; was soon made his partner; married mary, and had my snug house in the country. mr. charters succeeded in that speculation; entered into several others, some of which were of a more fraudulent nature, failed, and was ruined. he ran off to america, and no one knows what became of him. i have left business some years. i purchased a nice property in the country, built a church upon it, and have ever thanked god, who never forsakes those who wish to act righteously. "it pleased god to take all my sweet children from me--every state has its trials--the youngest was just like your little flower-girl." mrs. newton was much pleased with this story; she then told her own, and little fanny's. the fat gentleman's eyes were full of tears when she ended; when he was going away he put another half-sovereign into her hand, and saying, "the first was for the child," walked out of the house. a short time afterwards, a clergyman came to see mrs. newton--she was surprised; he sat and talked with her some time, and seemed greatly pleased with her sentiments, and all she told him of herself and fanny. he then told her that he was the clergyman whom mr. walton, on the recommendation of the bishop of the diocese, had appointed to the church he had built; that mr. walton had sent him to see her, and had told him, if he was satisfied with all he saw and heard, to invite mrs. newton and the little flower-girl to leave london, and go and live in one of the nice widows' houses, which good mr. walton had built, near the pretty village where he lived. then there was great joy in poor mrs. newton's humble abode; mrs. newton was glad for fanny's sake, and fanny was glad for mrs. newton's sake, so both were glad, and both said- "mortals fly from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow." but the only difference was, that mrs. newton said it with watery eyes and clasped hands, lying on her bed and looking up to heaven; and fanny--merry little thing!--said it frisking and jumping about the room, clapping her hands together, and laughing her joy aloud. well, there was an inside place taken in the b---coach, for mrs. newton and fanny; and not only that, but kind mrs. walton sent up her own maid to london, to see that everything was carefully done, as the poor woman was ill, and help to pack up all her little goods; and, with her, she sent an entire new suit of clothes for the flower-girl. they set off, and when they got near to the village the coachman stopped, and called out to know if it were the first, or the last of the red cottages he was to stop at; and mrs. walton's maid said, "the last,--the cottage in the garden." so they stopped at such a pretty cottage, with a little garden before and behind it. mr. walton had known what it was to be poor, and so, when he grew rich, he had built these neat houses, for those who had been rich and become poor. they were intended chiefly for the widows of men of business, whose character had been good, but who had died without being able to provide for their families. he had made an exception in mrs. newton's case, and gave her one of the best houses, because it had a pretty garden, which he thought others might not care for so much. they went inside, and there was such a neat kitchen, with tiles as red as tiles could be; a little dresser, with all sorts of useful things; a nice clock ticking opposite the fire-place, and a grate as bright as blacklead could make it. and then there was such a pretty little room at one side, with a rose tree against the window; and a little shelf for books against the wall; and a round table, and some chairs, and an easy couch. and there were two nice bedrooms overhead; and, better than all these, was a pretty garden. oh! how happy was the little flower-girl; and how thankful was poor mrs. newton! the first thing she did was to go down on her knees and thank god. then fanny was to go to the school, for mrs. walton had her own school, as well as the national school; but fanny did not know enough to go to it, so she was sent to the national school first, and afterwards she went to the other, where about a dozen girls were instructed in all things that would be useful to them through life--whether they were to earn their bread at service, or to live in their own homes as daughters, wives, or mothers. but every morning, before she went out, she did everything for her dear, good grandmother. she made her breakfast; she arranged her room; and she gathered some fresh flowers in the garden, and put them on the table in the little parlor. oh! how happy was fanny when she looked back, and saw how nice everything looked, and then went out singing to her school- "barns, nor hoarded store have we, yet we carol joyously; mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow." but god will not provide for the morrow, where people will do nothing to provide for themselves; and so fanny, the flower-girl, knew, for surely god had blessed the labor of her childish hands. thus passed time away; and fanny, under the instruction that she had at church, at school, and at home, "grew in grace, and in the knowledge and love of god, and of jesus christ our lord." good mrs. newton was much better in health, and used to walk about sometimes without any support but fanny's arm, and so time went on till fanny came to be about fifteen; and then mrs. newton, who was not always free from "doubt and sorrow," began to think what was to become of her if she were to die. so one day, when kind mr. walton, whom fanny used once to call the fat gentleman, came in to see her, mrs. newton told him that she was beginning to feel anxious that fanny should be put in a way of earning her own bread, in case she should be taken from her. mr. walton listened to her, and then he said,-"you are very right and prudent, mrs. newton, but never mind that; i have not forgotten my little flower-girl, and her race after me that hot morning; if you were dead, i would take care of her; and if we both were dead, mrs. walton would take care of her; and if mrs. walton were dead, god would take care of her. i see you cannot yet learn the little lines she is so fond of- "'mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow.'" well, not very long after this conversation came a very warm day, and in all the heat of the sun came mr. walton, scarcely able to breathe, into mrs. newton's cottage; he was carrying his hat in one hand, and a newspaper in the other, and his face was very red and hot. "well, mrs. newton," said he, "what is all this about?--i can't make it out; here is your name in the paper!" "my name, sir!" said mrs. newton, staring at the paper. "aye, indeed is it," said mr. walton, putting on his spectacles, and opening the paper at the advertisement side,--"see here!" and he began to read,-"if mrs. newton, who lived about fifteen years ago near the turnpike on the p---road, will apply to messrs. long and black, she will hear of something to her advantage. or should she be dead, any person who can give information respecting her and her family, will be rewarded." mrs. newton sat without the power of speech--so much was she surprised; at last she said, "it is fanny's father!--i know, i am sure it can be no one else!" mr. walton looked surprised, for he had never thought of this; he was almost sorry to think his little flower-girl should have another protector. at length he said it must be as mrs. newton thought, and he would go up to london himself next day, and see mr. long and mr. black. so he went; and two days afterwards, when fanny had returned from mrs. walton's school, and was sitting with mrs. newton in the little shady arbor they had made in the garden, and talking over early days, when they used to sit in another arbor, and fanny used to learn her first lessons from flowers, then came mr. walton walking up the path towards them, and with him was a fine-looking man, of about forty-five years of age. mrs. newton trembled, for when she looked in his face she remembered the features; and she said to herself, "now, if he takes my fanny from me?--and if he should be a bad man?" but when this man came nearer, he stepped hastily beyond mr. walton, and catching mrs. newton's hands, he was just going to drop on his knees before her, when he saw fanny staring at him; and a father's feelings overcame every other, and with a cry of joy he extended his arms, and exclaiming "my child!'--my child!" caught her to his breast. then there followed so much talk, while no one knew scarcely what was saying; and it was mr. walton, chiefly, that told how fanny's father had had so much to struggle against, and so much hardship to go through, but how he had succeeded at last, and got on very well; now he had tried then to find out mrs. newton and his dear little fanny, but could not, because mrs. newton had changed her abode; how, at last, he had met with a good opportunity to sell his land, and had now come over with the money he had earned, to find his child, and repay her kind benefactor. oh, what a happy evening was that in the widow's cottage! the widow's heart sang for joy. the widow, and she that had always thought herself an orphan, were ready to sing together- "mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow." mrs. newton found that mr. marsden, that was the name of fanny's father, was all that she could desire fanny's father to be:--a christian in deed and in truth; one thankful to god and to her, for the preservation and care of his child; and who would not willingly separate fanny from her, or let her leave fanny. as he found mrs. newton did not wish to leave kind mr. walton's neighborhood, and that his daughter was attached to it also, mr. marsden took some land and a nice farm-house, not far from the manor house, where mr. walton lived. he had heard all about the half-sovereign, and loved his little flower-girl before he saw her. so mrs. newton had to leave her widow's house; and she shed tears of joy, and regret, and thankfulness, as she did so; she had been happy there, and had had god's blessing upon her and her dear girl. but fanny was glad to receive her dear, dear grandmother into her own father's house; her own house too; and she threw her arms round the old lady's neck, when they got there, and kissed her over and over again, and said, "ah! grandmother, do you recollect when i was a little girl tying up my flowers while you lay sick in bed, i used to say so often- "'mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, god provideth for the morrow.'" they had a large garden at the farm-house, and fanny and mrs. newton improved it; and mrs. newton would walk out, leaning on fanny's arm, and look at the lilies and roses, and jessamine, and mignonette, and talk of past times, and of their first garden, and their first flowers, and of their first knowledge of the god who made them; who watches the opening bud, and the infant head; who sends his rain upon the plant, and the dew of his blessing upon the child who is taught to know and love him. and fanny's father, when he joined them, talked over his trials and dangers from the day that his poor wife lay dead, and his helpless baby lay in his arms, and then he blessed the god who had led him all his life long, and crowned him with loving-kindness. three years passed, and fanny, the little flower-girl, was a fine young woman. a farmer's son in the neighborhood wished to get her for his wife; but her father was very sorry to think of her leaving him so soon for another home. he spoke to fanny about it, and said,--"my dear girl, i have no right to expect you should wish to stay with me, for i never was able to watch over your childhood or to act a father's part by you." and fanny answered, with a blush and smile, "and i, father, was never able to act a daughter's part by you until now, and therefore i think you have every right to expect i should do so for some time longer. i have no objections to be charles brierley's wife, and i have told him so; but we are both young, and at all events i will not leave you." "now," said mrs. newton, who was sitting by, "instead of that young man taking more land, which is very dear about here, would it not be a good plan if he were to come and live with you, mr. marsden, and help you with the farm." and mr. marsden said, "that is the very thing; i will go and speak to him about it; and fanny and her husband can have the house, and farm, and all, as much as they please now, and entirely at my death." so it was all settled; and fanny was married at the village church, and mr. and mrs. walton were at the wedding. good mrs. newton lived on at the farm-house, and when fanny's first child was born, it was put into her arms. then she thought of the time when fanny herself was laid in the same arms; and she blessed god in her heart, who had enabled her to be of use to one human creature, and to one immortal soul and mind, while she passed through this life to the life everlasting. joy and sorrow are always mingled on this earth; so it came to pass that before fanny's first child could walk alone, good, kind mrs. newton died, and was buried. as a shock of corn cometh in, in its season, so she sank to rest, and was gathered into the garner of her lord. but- "the memory of the just is blessed, though they sleep in dust;" and fanny's children, and children's children, will learn to love that memory. many a day, sitting at work in her garden, with her little ones around her, fanny let them gather some flowers, and talk to her about them; and then they would beg, as a reward for good conduct, that she would tell them about her dear grandmother and her own childish days; and much as children love to hear stories, never did any more delight in a story, than did these children, in the story of fanny, the flower-girl. convenient food. little frances was crying; her sister mary hearing her sobs, ran in haste to inquire what had happened; and saw her sitting in a corner of the nursery, looking rather sulky, as if she had recently received some disappointment. "what is the matter, dear little frances? why do you cry so?" frances pouted, and would make no reply. "tell me, dear frances; perhaps i can do something for you." "nothing, mary," she sobbed, "only"-"only what, little frances? it cannot be _nothing_ that makes you cry so bitterly." "only mamma would not give--" she looked a little ashamed, and did not finish her sentence. "_what_ would she not give?" "nothing." "nothing!" frances shook her elbows, as if troubled by mary's inquiries, but the tears continued flowing down her cheeks. just at that moment their sister anne came into the room, singing in the joy of her heart, with a piece of plum-cake in her hand, holding it up, and turning it about before her sisters to exhibit her newly-acquired possession, on which frances fixed her eyes with eager gaze, and the tears flowed still faster, accompanied with a kind of angry sob. "frances! what is the matter that you are crying so? see what i have got! you will spoil all the happiness of our feast." at the word _feast_, frances' tears seemed arrested, and her mouth looked as if she were going to smile. she left the corner, and immediately prepared to do her part for the feast, setting a little square table, and then, drawing her own little stool, seated herself in readiness as a guest. "stay," said anne, "we will make some little paper dishes and plates, and divide the cake;" so saying, she began the operation, and laying down the paper dishes, "there at the top, see! there shall be two chickens, at the bottom a piece of beef, at one side some potatoes, and at the other some cauliflower;" breaking her cake into small pieces to correspond to her imagined provision. frances looked very impatient at the long preparation, and as anne seated herself, inviting mary to partake, frances stretched out her hand to take the beef for her own portion. "no, no, frances, you must not help yourself, you know; wait until we all begin in order." frances very reluctantly withdrew her hand, and, whilst she waited, betrayed her impatience by a little jerking motion of the body, that threw her breast against the table, as if she would beat time into quicker motion. "o we must not forget william!" anne exclaimed; "where is he? he must taste our feast; stay here, mary, with frances, and i will go and find him." away she ran, and left poor frances in a fret at this additional delay, but she began to amuse herself by picking up the small crumbs that had been scattered on the stool, and at last proceeded to touch the beef and chickens. "do not do so, frances," mary said, in a reproving voice. frances colored. "do not sit _looking_ on, if you are so impatient; employ yourself, and get a seat ready for william." "_you_ may get it, mary." "very well; only do not meddle with anne's feast." mary had to go into another room for the seat, and whilst she was away, frances quickly helped herself to half of the pieces which were on the dishes, and, when mary returned, resumed her position as if nothing had happened. mary was so busy in arranging the seats, that she did not observe what had been done. presently anne came back, accompanied by her brother william; hastening to her place, and looking on her table, she started with surprise, and seemed to say to herself, as she gazed, how came i to make a mistake, an think my pieces of cake were larger? but the expression of her face called mary's attention, who at once said, "anne, i am sure you placed larger pieces on your dishes." "indeed, i thought so, mary; who has taken any?" "i do not know." "o you are only _pretending_, and you have been hiding some." "no, anne; i would not have said i do not know, if i had _hid_ it." "no, no more you would, dear mary. never mind," she said, glancing a look at frances, not altogether without suspicion, "it is only to _play_ with, it does not signify whether it is much or little. "william, shall i help you to a little chicken?" "o no, anne, you have forgot, help the _ladies_ first; and beside, you ought to have placed me at the bottom of the table to carve this dish. what is it?" "beef, william." "o beef, very well. come, miss frances, let me sit there, and you come to the side of the table." in haste to begin the eating part of the play, she rose immediately to change places, when, to her disgrace, a quantity of crumbs, which had lodged unobserved in a fold of her frock, fell out, and disordered the neatness of the table. "there!" said william, "we have no question to ask who took the liberty to lessen the dishes." "for shame, william, i--" "o frances, take care what you say, tell no falsehoods; i will tell one truth, and say you are a greedy girl." frances began to cry again, "for shame, william, to call me names." "i call no names, i only say what i think, and how can i help it, when it is only just now you cried so, because you said mamma had given me a larger piece of cake than yourself; for you must know," he continued, turning to mary, "we have both had one piece before, and she half of mine to make her quiet; and then she cried again because a piece was put by for you and anne, and she cannot be contented now, though anne shares hers amongst us. if this is not being greedy, i do not know what greedy means. it is no names, it is only saying what a thing is." "now i know another thing," said anne; "when mamma called me to receive my piece of cake, she said, 'and you shall take a piece also to mary,' but when she unfolded the paper, there was only _one_ piece; mamma did not say anything, but i think she _thought_ something." at this remark, frances redoubled her crying, but, for the sake of a share of the present feast, did not attempt to leave the party. no more was said, and the feast was concluded in good humor by all except the conscious greedy girl, and they then all went into the garden together to finish their hour's recreation before they were called again to their lessons. there was a little plantation of young fir-trees at one corner of the garden, intended to grow there for shelter from the north-west wind: the grass was so high amongst them, that the gardener had orders to go and carefully mow it down. he was engaged in the business when the children ran out to see him work. "hush! hush!" he exclaimed, as they approached, "i have just cleared a bough from the grass, and see what's there!" all curiosity, they went forward on tip-toe, and were directed to something lodged on the spreading branch of a young larch. "a bird's nest!" said william. "a bird's nest!" they all repeated. "but what is in it, i cannot tell." "look steadily," said the gardener, "and you will find out." it was difficult to trace what it was; something all in a heap, brown naked skin; alive, as might be known by the heaving breathing. william putting his finger to touch them, immediately four wide mouths stretched open, with little tongues raised, and the opening of their throats extended to the utmost. "look at the little things," said william; "they thought their mother was come when i touched the branch, and they have opened their mouths to be ready to receive what she would put in. "they are _blind_!" said william. "yes, they cannot have been hatched more than two days." "will they take what the mother gives them?" asked william. "yes," said the man, "they trust her, and swallow down what she puts into their mouths." "i wish the mother would come," said anne. "but she will not whilst we are here," william replied. "touch it again, william," said frances. william touched the edge of the nest "see!" said he, "they think the mother is come, they stretch, their months still wider." "hark!" said mary, "what an impatient noise they make: they look ready to stretch themselves out of their nest, and as if their little mouths would tear." "poor little things! do not disappoint them, give them something," said anne. "we have not proper food for them," said william. "i will run and fetch some crumbs," said mary. mary soon returned with a piece of bread, and giving it to her brother as the most experienced, he broke it into extremely small crumbs, and, again touching the nest, awakened the expectation of the young birds: they opened their mouths wide, and as he dropped a small crumb into each, they moved their tongues, trying to make it pass down into their throat. "poor little things, they cannot swallow well, they want the mother to put it gently down their throat with her beak." "see! see!" said all the girls, "they want more, give them more." william dropped his crumbs again. "more, more, william; see! they are not satisfied." "i dare not give them more for fear of killing them, we cannot feed them like the mother. we will stand still at a little distance, and you will see them go to sleep." when all was quiet, the little nestlings shut their mouths, and dropped their heads. "i should like to see the mother feed them." "you would see how much better she would do it than we can; perhaps, if we could conceal ourselves behind that laurel, she would come, but she will be very frightened, because all is so altered now the grass is cut down, and her nest is exposed; but i dare say she is not for off, she will be watching somewhere." they took william's hint, and retreated behind the laurel; they had not waited ten minutes, before the hen bird flitted past, and, darting over the larch, as if to inspect whether her little brood was safe, she disappeared again. in a few minutes more, she returned, skimming round to reconnoitre that all was safe, she perched upon the nest. instantly the little nestlings were awake to the summons of her touch and chirp, and, opening their mouths wide, were ready for what she would give. she dropt a small fly into the mouth of one of them, and, having no more, flew away to provide for the other hungry mouths as fast as she could. as soon as she was gone, they again shut their mouths, and dropt their heads in silence. "what a little bit she gave them," said frances. "yes," answered william, "but she knows it is _plenty_." "how contented the others seem to wait till she comes again!" "yes, mary," william again answered, unable to resist the comparison which had come to his mind, "they did not take the little bit away from the other. shall we wait till she comes again?" "o do." "very well, i want to see whether the one that was fed first will take away the bit the others got." the allusion made a little laugh, but, seeing that frances understood and felt that it applied to her, anne said, "do not let us tease frances; it is better to tell her at once what her fault is, than to seem to like to hurt her." "indeed, dear anne, i have not spared to tell her, her fault, as she knows very well, for she has often given me reason, but i cannot make her ashamed of such things; and i know mamma is very uneasy to see it in her." frances looked grave, but did not cry; turning pale, however, she said, "o mary take me out of this laurel--i am so sick!" mary hastened to take her into the freer air, but all in vain. the sisters were alarmed, and took her in to their mamma; who received her gravely, without expressing any concern for her indisposition. "what can we do for frances, mamma? will you let her have your smelling bottle, or shall i run and get some sal volatile?" "neither, my dear mary; it is an indisposition caused by her own selfish appetite, and probably the relief may be obtained by her stomach rejecting what she so improperly forced upon it. we will wait a short time, and if not, i will give her something less palatable, perhaps, than plum-cake, but necessary to remove it." frances was too ill to make any remark; she became paler still, and then quickly flushed almost a crimson color, her eyes were oppressed, and her eyebrows contracted, and she impatiently complained, "o my head! how it beats! what shall i do, mamma?" "bear the consequences of your own inordinate appetite, frances, and learn to subject it to the wholesome rules of temperance." "o the nasty plum-cake! i wish you had not given me any, mamma." "you _once_ thought the plum-cake _nice_, and you would not be contented with the small portion i knew to be sufficient and safe for you." "o my head! i think it is very cruel, mamma, that you do not pity me." "i do pity you, frances, and will take care of you now that i see you require help, as i perceive that you will not have any relief without medicine." frances began again to cry, "o, i am so sick! i cannot take medicine. i am sure i cannot." "come to your room, frances; i shall give you something proper, and you had better lie down after you have taken it; you will, perhaps, drop into a sleep, and be well when you awake again." her mamma took her hand and led her up stairs, and frances knew very well it was in vain to make any objection, as her mamma always made a point of obedience. the medicine was administered, although for some time frances refused to look at it. when she laid down, her mamma placed the pillow high under her head, and, drawing the curtain to shade the light, left the room that she might be perfectly quiet. and when she returned to the drawing-room, she inquired of the other children what they had been doing, and received a full account of the feast, and the bird's nest, and all the little circumstances of each. it was time to resume their studies, and, except that frances was not in her usual place, all things proceeded as before. when the lessons were finished, they entreated their mamma to go with them, and see the bird's nest." "it is _so_ pretty, mamma!" said anne; "and they know when the mother comes, and they take what she puts into their mouths." "we will first inquire after frances," she answered; "if she is well enough, she can accompany us." "i will run up, if you will be putting on your bonnet and shawl, mamma." "very well, i hope you will find her recovered, we will wait your return." anne soon returned,--"she is gone! i do not see her anywhere!" "gone! in perhaps we shall find her at play in the garden." in this expectation they all went out, and as they drew near the spot where the nest was, they saw frances looking very eagerly into the nest, and seeming to be in some agitation, then she threw something out of her hand, and ran away as if wanting not to be seen. "she is about some mischief," william said, and ran forward to the nest. but what was his grief to see one of the little birds dead on the ground, two others in the nest with pieces of bread sticking in their mouths, gasping, unable to swallow or reject it, and the fourth with its crop gorged, and slowly moving its little unfledged head from side to side, struggling in death. full of sympathy with the little sufferer, and indignant with frances, he exclaimed, "provoking girl! she has stuffed the little creatures as she would like to stuff herself; and i believe she has killed them all." the lively interest the other children had in the nest, impelled them to hasten to the spot, and their lamentations, and even tears, soon flowed. "william, william, cannot you do anything for them? do try." "well, stand still and do not shake my arm--so saying, he began the attempt, and drew the bread carefully out of the distended mouths of the two. "now the other! the other, william!" "that i cannot help," he answered: "see! she has forced it down, and we cannot get it back again; it is dying now." anne picked up the dead one from off the ground, and stroking it with her forefinger, "poor little thing!" she said, "was she so cruel to you!" it was not long before they heard a rustling in the tree near the place, and then a chirp of fright and distress. "ah!" said their mamma, "there is the mother! poor things, we will go a little distance to let her come to the nest; perhaps she will be able to save the two." they all withdrew, and the little parent bird was soon on her nest, fluttering and chirping to awaken the dead and dying little ones, till at length she sorrowfully brooded down on her nest, and spread her wings over them, occasionally chirping as if to solicit an answer from her little brood. "oh!" said mary, bursting into tears, "i cannot bear it! cruel frances, to be so unkind to the little birds!" "go and find frances," said their mamma, "and bring her to me." "i will go," william answered, "i think i know where she will hide herself." it was not long before william returned, leading frances, who very reluctantly yielded to accompany him. "come here," said her mamma, stopping the accusations she saw were ready to overwhelm the offending little girl; "come here, and let me talk to you about this sad thing you have done to the little birds. do you see what you have done by your ill-judged kindness?" "kindness! mamma," they all exclaimed. "yes, dear children, she has been very faulty, but i believe she meant to be kind, and through ignorance did this thing which proves the death of the birds. _you_ would not have done it, william, because you have already learnt there is such a thing as a necessary prudence to deal out your morsels with wisdom, and in a measure suited to the age and the capacity of the birds, and also that their food should be of a wholesome kind suitable to their nature. nothing of this did frances know, and it seems she had not learnt wisdom from the circumstances she had herself so lately fallen into. "it reminds me of the scripture, which teaches us to profit: 'open thy mouth wide, and i will fill it.' these little birds first attracted your attention by their _open mouths_, which they had stretched to receive what their poor mother was preparing to put into them. as one lighted on the edge of their nest, they instinctively opened their little yellow-edged beaks; she delighted to see them do so; and they, taking with content what she had provided for them, with the utmost confidence swallowed it down. she had a bit for every one of them in turn and they waited patiently until it was given them. all was well whilst they were nourished with parental tenderness and prudence, and none other meddled with them, or ventured to give them other things, which they, being blind, received and knew not the hand that gave, nor the consequences of eating food not such as their parent would have provided. "here you see frances, neither prudent nor aware of consequences, has stuffed these little birds with improper food, both in quality and quantity. the consequences are fatal; one is dead, another is dying, and it is very uncertain whether the others also will not die. she fed them without measure, and their crops and throats were gorged so as to stop their breathing. they took it greedily, because they knew not the fatal consequences. "frances, you are a greedy girl. you had been suffering for this offence, and had not the wisdom to leave it to me to apportion your food. you opened your mouth wide, but you must remember it is not written that _you_ are to fill it according to your own desires. 'i will fill it,' saith the lord. he knows what is good for us, and he will measure his bounty according to his own wisdom." frances began to look ashamed and sorrowful. "i was to you," her mamma continued, "in the affair of the cake, endeavoring to fulfil this my duty, but you rebelled against my discretion, and would covet more than was right. you _helped yourself_, you gorged your stomach. you were cross and peevish, and ill, and when the medicine had relieved you, as it was designed, you, without reflection, sallied forth and suffocated the little birds. you could not feed them as the _mother_ would. you could not find in the air and on the ground the little insects, and small worms and little grains which were their proper food, and you should have left it to their own mother to fill their opened mouths. _she_ would have made no mistake either in the quality or quantity _convenient_ for them." "o," mary said, "how that reminds me of the scripture in proverbs xxx. 8: 'feed me with food _convenient_ for me.'" "yes, my dear girl, it's a scripture of great importance and often does it impress my mind in combination with the other i mentioned, ps. lxxxi. 10: 'open thy mouth wide, and _i_ will fill it,' in their spiritual application, when i am providing for you, and dividing out your portions, and considering what diet is most suited to your constitution, and limiting the quantity of dainty or rich luxuries not _convenient_ for you. i am also frequently led to apply it to myself, and to offer my petition to the lord that he will graciously judge for me, both temporally and spiritually to _fill_ my mouth, and feed me with food _convenient_ for me." "i think too, mamma, that there is some meaning belonging to this in our lord's teaching us to pray, 'give us this day our daily bread,' matt. vi. 11." "assuredly, my dear child, and i am rejoiced to find you are led by this subject to compare spiritual things with spiritual. "you see how the word of god interprets itself, and we are taught to go direct to the bounteous hand who giveth liberally, but never wastefully our daily bread is sufficient for the day, and we must wait on him still for the daily bread of the succeeding day; so we are instructed to open our mouths wide to ask the lord to fulfil his promise and to fill them, and to be contented with convenient food." "o mamma, you cannot think how many scriptures seem to come to my mind, and to give me a clearer understanding. you know the manna which was given in the wilderness, was _convenient_ food when it was gathered daily as the lord commanded, but when they laid it up, you know it was no longer _convenient,_ for it stunk and bred worms. does not this teach us to trust god as well as not to _disobey_ him?" "may this ready application of the word of god proceedeth from that grace, my child, which teaches you, like job, to esteem the word of god more than your necessary food, for you will also remember what our lord said to the tempter, 'it is written, man does not live by _bread alone,_ but _by every word_ that proceeded out of the mouth of god.' but we are too apt to forget this, and to imagine that we can provide well for ourselves by fulfilling the desires and lusts of the flesh, and by so doing, we are likely to be brought to _forget_ god, the bountiful and wise supplier of all our wants." "i remember the text, mamma, which has in it, 'feed me with food _convenient_ for me; and in another part, 'lest i be full and deny thee,' prov. xxx. 9; and this little bird's nest has helped me to understand it better." "may the holy spirit engrave it on your heart, for it will often remind you of the thankful contentedness with which you ought to wait on the lord." "yes, mamma," william said, "but there is no harm, you know, in opening the mouth _wide_." "no, william, certainly no _harm_, for it is a _duty_. 'open thy mouth wide,' is an injunction of god, but it is immediately subjoined and strictly said, 'and i will fill it.' therefore bear in mind the double instruction. neither take the filling on yourself, nor be ready to swallow every crude and unwholesome morsel which the ignorant or the wicked would present to you. do you remember a certain day last week when something happened?" william looked anxious to recollect what his mamma alluded to, and in less than a minute he shook his head, and said, "ah, mamma, that is too bad, you mean when mrs. arnot called, and you were out." "yes i do, william; you all opened your mouths wide, and _she_ filled them. her sweet things did not prove _convenient_ food. you see, therefore, we should learn to discriminate between a heavenly father's provision, and that of a stranger, whose busy interference may cost you your life. i was not many minutes away from my little nest, when a stranger came, and, by mistaken kindness made you all ill. "frances, have you never read that scripture: 'put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite.'" frances cried, and, sobbing, said, "i do not know what it means?" "what can it mean, my dear frances, but parallel with those, 'if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off. it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, than, having two hands or two feet, to be cast into everlasting fire,' matt. xvvi. 29, 30. ii. 8, 9. it means that spirit which will sacrifice the lust of the heart, and deny itself, though it should be a present mortification. the _throat_ of an inordinate or diseased appetite is to be cut, and its carnal desires crucified." "was it not something of this kind that isaac fell into when he sent esau to hunt venison, and make him savory meat, such as his soul loved? gen. xxvii. 4." "yes, william, and this very thing he desired presented the temptation by which he was deceived. and you might have mentioned, too, how esau himself yielded to his appetite, and sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, gen. xxv. 29. when we yield to these propensities of the flesh, we lay a snare for our own souls, and expose our weakness to an adversary, ever ready to take advantage of our infirmity. it is a common fault in children to desire with greedy appetite such food as is pernicious, and to wish for more than even a mouth opened wide requires--till at length they learn to lust after _forbidden_ things. and what does it lead to? frances, you began to pick and steal, and your own iniquity chastised you:--you were sick and ill." frances hid her face in her frock. "ah mamma," said anne, "i shall be afraid of wanting anything, as i used to do; and i hope i shall remember how much better you can feed me, than i can feed myself." "i wish i may too," said william. "if eve had but waited for the lord only to fill her mouth, she would not have eaten that which brought sin and death." "tell me, frances, if you feel the force of all we have learnt from the little birds, and your own mistaken idea of what would be good for them?" frances did not answer. "but you know, my child, you were guilty of another fault; when the medicine was offered, which was likely to do you good,--you _refused_ to open your mouth, and was long before you would let me fill it, so you see we must leave it all to the lord to give us much or little, bitter or sweet, just as he knows to be _convenient_ for us." "yes," mary said, "these poor little birds will long teach us a lesson. we may imitate them to open our mouth wide, but we must be warned by what happened to them, to let the _lord_ only fill them." "let us look again at the nest." they approached, and frightened the mother so, that she flew off. "see, see! william," said anne, "the two little things are opening their mouths again. o how beautiful! let us never meddle with them any more. only remember, 'open thy mouth wide, and i will fill it.' now, frances, do not cry any more: come, we will bury these little dead birds." frances wiped her eyes, and anne giving her a kiss, they went away to do as she proposed. after they had made a little coffin, they put the two little dead birds into it then william got a spade, and dug a grave just large enough to hold the little coffin: and, as he lowered it into the grave, mary wiped away the tears which gathered in her eyes. when william had filled up the grave, they all returned to their mamma, who said-"my dear children, do not let us dismiss this interesting subject without a closer application. my dear frances, come near to me, and hear what i have to say." frances drew near with some timidity. conscious of her faults, and expecting the word of truth to be directed to her heart, she had at that moment rather have escaped from it. but her mamma, taking her hands into hers, and sitting down on a garden stool that was nigh, she felt that the words would be words of love, aid her heart beginning to soften, the tears were ready to flow, for she knew that her mamma would speak to her of jesus and of his blood, which was shed for sinners. "do you know quite well, my child, that among the fruits of the spirit enumerated, gal. v., there is one called temperance?" "yes, mamma," she replied. "are you not also conscious, my dear child, that your desire of indulging your appetite is quite contrary to this holy fruit?" "yes, mamma." "then what are you to do in order to overcome the one, and to obtain the other?" "i must ask the lord jesus to give me the holy spirit." "yes, my child, to him must you come for all help, and he will not send you empty away. here is a subject on which you must indeed open your mouth wide, in earnest prayer, and wait on the lord for his gracious answer. 'ask, and ye shall receive,' he says, and after showing how an _earthly_ father will act towards his child that asks for bread, how does he conclude?" "he says, 'how much _more_ will your _heavenly_ father give the _holy spirit_ to them that ask him!'" "will you then, my dear frances, profit by this gracious instruction, and will _you_ ask for the holy spirit?" "yes, mamma, i will try." "do you believe the lord will give you the holy spirit when you ask?" "he _says_ he _will_, mamma." "that is enough, my child; what the lord says is yea and amen. it is written, 'hath he said, and will he not do it?'" "yes, mamma, i know god is _truth_, he cannot lie." "but you know also, my dear frances, when the holy spirit is given, he takes up his abode in the heart, and he _acts_ in the soul, and will not dwell there without producing his holy fruit; and tell me now what is the fruit you particularly want to overcome this sinful desire of appetite which prevails in your heart." "is it not _temperance_, mamma?" "yes, and if he comes into your heart, he will give it you, and moreover teach you to _repent_ of your sins; for consider, my frances, sin is an offence against him, and needs to be repented of. do you repent?" "i am very sorry, mamma." "but repentance is more than sorrow; it will make you ashamed before god, and make you feel yourself vile; and it will also make you carefully watchful against the temptation; it will make you anxious to quit the sin, and clear your soul from its power; it will make you indignant against it, and urge you to seek that strength from the spirit, which will resist the sin, and overcome it. when, therefore, you ask for the holy spirit, be _willing_ that the lord should _fill_ you. be ready to _exercise_ the mighty gift for _all_ his offices, to convict you of sin, to lead you to true expectations, and to strengthen you to overcome your sin, giving you that grace which is specially opposed to the leading sin of your heart." "i wish i had this gift; for my sin makes me very unhappy: i know it is wrong." "do not stop in _wishes_, dear child, go and _pray_; '_ask_, and ye shall receive.' 'open your mouth wide' in the full utterance of all your distress, and of all you desire; pray for what you _want, name_ it; pray for _repentance_, and for _temperance_. pray that the _lust of your appetite_ may be _crucified_, and pray that the blood of jesus, the lamb of god who taketh away sin, may be sprinkled upon your guilty soul, and cleanse it from all sin. he giveth liberally, and upbraideth not. he is angry only when we neglect his promises and his gifts. "it is not long since, dear mary, that you and i conversed on this text, 'my people would not hearken to my voice, israel would none of me: _so i gave them up to their own heart's lusts_,' psa. lxxxi. a dreadful judgment! what would become of _you_, dear frances, if you were given up to the dominion of your appetite?" "but, my dear mamma," mary said, "do you not remember the end of that psalm, what a sweet verse there is?" "repeat it, dear girl, and let little frances hear it!" "'_had_ they hearkened and obeyed, then should he have fed them with the finest of the wheat, and with honey out of the rock should i have satisfied them.'" "o my children," said their mamma, "here is spiritual food for the spiritual appetite! you know who is the bread of life, and who is the rock of our salvation. turn unto him your whole heart, and though you feel the burden of the body of this death, you shall soon be able to thank god, who, through jesus christ our lord, will deliver you." "poor esau repented too late, that once he his birth-right despis'd, and sold for a morsel of meat, what could not too highly be priz'd. how great was his anguish when told, the blessing he sought to obtain was gone with the birth-right he sold, and none could recall it again! he stands as a warning to all, wherever the gospel shall come! o hasten and yield to the call, while yet for repentance there's room! your season will quickly be past; then hear and obey it to-day, lest when you seek mercy at last, the saviour should frown you away. what is it the world can propose? a morsel of meat at the best! for this are you willing to lose a share in the joys of the blest? its pleasures will speedily end, its favor and praise are but breath; and what can its profits befriend your soul in the moments of death? if jesus, for these, you despise, and sin to the saviour prefer, in vain your entreaties and cries, when summon'd to stand at his bar: how will you his presence abide? what anguish will torture your heart, the saints all enthron'd by his side, and you be compelled to depart. too often, dear saviour, have i preferr'd some poor trifle to thee; how is it thou dost not deny the blessing and birth-right to me? no better than esau i am, though pardon and heaven be mine to me belongs nothing but shame, the praise and the glory be thine." i. the little pavior. "even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right,"--proverbs, xx. 11. happy the child who is active, intelligent and obliging, and who takes pleasure in serving those that are about him! happy above all is the child, who, fearing and loving the lord, shows himself thus zealous and obliging, from a feeling of piety, and a desire to please god. such was francis, and this we shall soon see, from the following narrative: francis, who was about eight years old, was spending the month of june with his grandpapa in the country. his grandpapa lived in a pretty house, roofed with slates, and surrounded with a verandah, in which were seats, and between each seat, some flower-pots. jessamine and roses entwined themselves around the verandah, and adorned it with elegant festoons of flowers. behind the house was a yard, where chickens, turkeys, and guinea-fowls, were kept; and in the front, looking towards the west, was laid out a fine garden, well provided with evergreens, such as holly, yew, and pine-trees, and amongst these, also, many birch and ash-trees flourished. at the bottom of the garden, which sloped a little, flowed a pure, but shallow stream, which was crossed by means of a wooden bridge, surrounded with elders and large hazels. this was a delightful dwelling-place, but those who inhabited it, were still more delightful than the beautiful garden or the smiling groves. for it was the beauty of piety which was found in them, united with that gentleness and amiability of character, that humble spirit of cordiality, which our saviour enjoins upon all his true disciples. these inhabitants, so good and so amiable, were the grandpapa and grandmamma of francis, and their domestics, who, with them served the lord, and lived in that peace, which his spirit gives to such as delight in his word. this dear grandpapa then, since he was pious, was charitable, and took particular pleasure in visiting his aged neighbors, especially the poor peasants, to whom he always carried comfort and encouragement from that gracious god, with whom he himself daily endeavored more and more to live. he used generally to pay these charitable visits in the middle of the day; after having read the holy bible for the second time, in a retired summer-house in the garden, near which a little gate opened upon a footpath, which, passing through the orchard, led to the village. francis, who was already acquainted with his grandpapa's habits, never came to disturb him while he was in the summer-house, and whenever he saw his grandpapa going out of the little gate he took good care not to follow him. but in about an hour or two, he would go to meet him, sometimes towards the road, at others, as far as the bridge over the stream;--his grandmamma was never uneasy, because she knew that francis was a prudent boy, and that god watched over him, as one of the lambs of the good shepherd. grandpapa then, had just finished reading; he had put on his hat and taken his cane, and had gone out through the gate. francis, who was sitting before the house, under the pretty green verandah, saw him pass behind the garden hedge, and was already thinking of going to meet him at the end of an hour, when to his great surprise he saw his grandpapa pass again behind the hedge, and then enter the garden through the little gate, walking apparently with much difficulty. "what is the matter, dear grandpapa?" cried francis, springing towards the garden.--"oh! how you are covered with mud! it must be that rude driver who wanted to fawn upon you. he has always such dirty paws." "you must not scold driver, but _me_," mildly replied his grandpapa, "for i incautiously, and most imprudently, walked upon that part of the path which has been inundated by the water from the fountain." "grandpapa, did you fall?" asked francis, quite alarmed. "yes my boy, your grandfather fell like a heedless man.... but thanks to our gracious god, who ever takes care of us! it was nothing; i was only a little frightened. you see, francis, you must not forget that we only stand, because god supports us." so saying, his grandfather entered the house, and with the same serenity related his accident to his wife, who bestowed every attention upon him. whilst his grandfather was resting himself, and francis had ascertained that he had not suffered much, he hastened to look at the spot where his kind grandpapa had slipped and fallen. it was a little bit of the path, perhaps about three paces long, covered with the water which was issuing from the fountain, and which being of clay, had become very slippery. the trench round the fountain had been already deepened more than once, in order to turn its course from that part of the orchard, but as the ground was rather low, the water always returned. francis examined all this, and tried to find out what could be done to remedy the evil, in a more durable manner. "_i know!_" he cried at last. "i must make a pavement here, a little higher than the path is at present!" "come! cheer up! 'where there's a will,' says grandpapa, 'with god's help there's a way.' to work, to work! 'for he who does nothing makes little progress,' says also, my dear grandpapa." it may be here well asked, how a little child, eight years of age, could even conceive such a project, and much more how he could have had sufficient strength to accomplish it. but francis was not a thoughtless or inattentive child; on the contrary he observed on his way _to_, and _from_ school, and when he walked out with his papa, everything that workmen did. it was thus that he had often noticed how the paviors first laid down the stones, and then pressed them together, and as we shall soon see, he found no difficulty in what he was going to attempt. "first and foremost," said he, "the tools!" and immediately he ran off to look for a little wheel-barrow which his grandpapa had made for him; with the spade, the trowel, and the iron rake, which were at his disposal. when the tools were collected, francis, having taken off his jacket, traced out the portion to be paved. "now," said he, "i must take away two or three inches of earth, that the stones may fit in." he then took away the earth, and piled it up on the upper side of the path, in order to compel the water to pass by the drain. "now," he said, "i must find some sand; where is there any? oh! behind the hen-house; the masons, who plastered the walls of the yard over again, have left a large heap of it there"--and then he quickly ran with his wheelbarrow, once, twice, and even three times, and soon had as much as was necessary. he spread it out, and arranged it, and then pronounced the great word of all his work, "_stones!_ no stones, no pavement! i must have at least fifty of them!" he ran about, searched and gathered, near the fountain, round the house, and along the wall of the yard, and soon brought back four wheelbarrows full of nice stones, well shaped, and not too large. but there were not enough, for he was obliged to put five or six abreast. where are there any more to be found? "in the brook," cried he! "it is rather far off, but i shall soon be there!" and indeed in about a quarter of an hour, he had collected all the proper materials. then should he have been seen at work! the trowel in his right hand, a stone in his left; the sand which he placed between each stone, and the blows which forced it down, these things succeeded each other rapidly, and were often repeated; till at length, at the end of the third hour, the slippery bit of foot-path was no longer in existence, but in its stead was to be seen a pavement slightly raised, which could never be wetted by the overflowing of the fountain. "that will not do well," said francis, when he had finished, and was walking over the pavement; "it is uneven, grandpapa will hurt his feet upon it." and so saying, he ran to the woodhouse in the yard, and returned, bending under the weight of the mallet, with which thomas used to strike the axe and wedges, when he split the large pieces of oak. "here is _my_ rammer," said francis, laughing, as he thought of those used by the paviors; and holding the mallet perpendicularly, he struck with the butt-end, first one stone, and then another, until at length the pavement was completed! it was solid, even and clean, and francis, repeating in truth, "where there's a will, with god's help, there's a way," gave thanks in his heart to that good heavenly father, who gave him both the idea and the will to do this act of filial love, and enabled him to accomplish it. some sand and a few stones remained; francis took them up and carried them back near to the house. then he cleared away the rubbish, and having put on his coat again, returned joyfully to replace his tools in the green-house. all this was done after dinner, between the hours of three and six. the evening passed quietly away. grandpapa had not received any bruises, and he could not sufficiently thank the good shepherd, the lord jesus, who had, as it were, "carried him in his arms," and "kept all his bones." grandmamma joined in his praises and thanksgivings, and these two faithful servants blessed the lord together, whose mercies are over all his works. "to-morrow, please god," said grandpapa to francis, "i shall go and see old george. he must have expected me to-day! but be assured, my dear francis, that your grandpapa will walk no more like a giddy child; and if the path is still slippery, i shall place my foot prudently upon it." francis said he hoped the path would be better; and however that might be, that the lord would preserve him thenceforth from slipping, and above all, from falling. grandpapa made francis read the bible as usual to the whole household. he spoke piously of god's paternal care for our bodies as well as for our souls, and in his prayer he gave abundant thanks to the saviour who had so graciously preserved him. the morrow came. grandpapa had quite recovered his accident of the preceding day, and after reading in the summer-house, he got up to go and see old george. francis, who was observing him from beneath the verandah, no sooner saw him come near the little gate, than he ran round the house to hide himself behind a hazel bush, a short distance from the pavement, in order to see what his grandpapa would do. grandpapa walked on towards the orchard, and as soon as he set his foot on the path, he prepared to proceed very carefully. he took three or four steps, and then suddenly stopped, and raising his hands, exclaimed, a "pavement! a pavement here already! how does this happen? who could have done this? it must be my faithful thomas!"--he continued--"i must thank him for it;" and he called out loudly, "thomas! thomas!" thomas, who was in the cow-house, heard his voice, and ran to him in alarm. "have you tumbled again, sir," he asked anxiously? "on the contrary," said grandpapa, "thanks to _you_, thomas, for having made this good substantial pavement so quickly and so well; it is really excellent," said he, stamping upon it with his foot, and walking over it in every direction. "it is solid, and even, and slopes on either side! i am very much obliged to you, thomas." "alas! sir," said the man, "it is not i who did it--how vexed i am that i did not think of it what stupidity!"... "who is it then?" asked grandpapa, "for this has been done since yesterday, and surely these stones are not mushrooms! who could have thought of this?" "i think i know who it is, sir," answered thomas, "for yesterday in the afternoon i saw master francis going down to the brook with his wheelbarrow. i could not think what it was for, but now i understand." "francis! did you say," exclaimed grandpapa; "how could that child have done it even if he had wished? are these stones only nuts, that _that_ dear boy's little hands could have been able to knock them into the ground?" "do you wish, sir, that i should look for him and bring him here?" asked thomas. francis could no longer remain concealed. he ran from behind the bush, and threw himself into his grandpapa's arms; saying, "dear grandpapa, how happy i am to have been able to succeed." "it is _you_ then, indeed, my son!" cried grandpapa, as he shed tears of joy. "god bless your filial piety towards me! may he return you two-fold all the good you have done my heart. but how did you manage?" "you have often told me, dear grandpapa, that 'where there's a will, with the help of god, there's a way,' and i prayed to god, and was able to do it." "well then, dear francis," said grandpapa, solemnly, "i promise you, that every day of my life, as long as i shall walk here below, when i pass over this pavement, which your affection has made for me, i will say to god 'o lord, prevent francis from falling in his way! may thy goodness _pave_ for him the path of life, whenever it becomes slippery.'" francis understood, and respectfully received this blessing; and whilst his grand father paid his visit, the little pavior went and told his grandmamma, what he had been able to do, and how god had already blessed him for it. ii. the silver knife. "then said jesus unto him: go and do thou likewise."--luke, x. 37. _mary_.--(after having searched about the dining-room,) "who has seen my silver knife? william, john, lucy, you who are amusing yourselves in the garden, have you seen my silver knife?" _william_.--(going up to the window, and in a sententious tone of voice,) "'disorder,' says an ancient writer, 'occasions sorrow, and negligence, blame.'" _mary_.--"admirable! but that does not apply to _me_, for it is scarcely an hour since i laid my knife on this very table, which certainly belongs to us." _lucy_.--"are you quite sure of it, mary!" _mary_--"yes, indeed, there is no doubt of it, for sophy asked me to give her a pretty little red apple, as usual, before going to school. i went immediately to the fruit-room for it, and as it was a little spoiled, i cleaned it with my silver knife, which i laid on this table, whilst i was kissing her. i am therefore quite sure of it." _john_.--(frowning,)--"for my part, i confess, i don't like all these strangers who come about the house. for instance, that little _jane_, who sells lilies of the valley, and strawberries, and so on--i very much distrust her sullen look; and who knows, if perhaps...?" _lucy_--"fie, fie, brother, to suspect that poor little modest gentle child, who supports her sick mother by her own industry! oh! it is very wrong, john!" "what is the matter?" said their father, who had heard this dispute from the garden, where he was reading under the shade of a tree. mary related her story, and finished by saying,--"well, if it be god's will, so-be-it! my beautiful knife is lost!" "yes, my dear girl," answered her father, "what god wills, is always best. but it is his will that i should watch over, my household. i must therefore know what has become of your knife. did you ask elizabeth if she had taken care of it, when she cleaned the room?" mary ran to the kitchen, and enquired of elizabeth. "your silver knife! miss," said the servant, coloring. "have you lost that beautiful knife, which was given you on your birthday?" "i ask you, if you have taken care of it," answered mary. "i laid it this morning upon the table in the dining-room, near the window." _elizabeth_.--(with astonishment,)--"near the window! oh!--i know where it is, now. about half an hour ago, when i went into the dining-room, to ... put ... down ... some plates, i saw the great magpie, which builds its nest up in the large elm-tree, at the end of the garden, sitting on the window-ledge. it flew away as soon as it saw me; but it had something white and shining in its beak. oh! yes, i remember now! it was the silver knife!" "the magpie," exclaimed mary, "with my knife in its beak!" "oh! miss," replied elizabeth, "there is no thief like a magpie. when i was at home, one of their nests was once pulled down, and nine pieces of silver were found in it, and a whole necklace of pearls! oh! magpies are terrible birds, and you may be sure that your knife is in their nest." mary returned to her father in the garden, and related to him all that elizabeth had said, but added, "for my part, i don't believe a word of it!" "and why not?" exclaimed john, sharply, "elizabeth is quite right! nothing steals like a magpie. everybody says so. come! let us to work! a ladder, a cord, and a long stick! down with the nest!--papa, will you allow me to climb the tree!" _lucy._--(holding john by the arm.)--"brother, how _can_ you think of it? the elm is more than eighty feet high! papa, i beg of you, not to allow it." _father_.--(calmly.)--"no one shall get up the tree and risk his life, for a thing which certainly is not there." "there is no thief like a magpie," repeated john, looking at the nest, which might be seen through the higher branches of the tree; "but i confess it would not be easy to reach it. these branches are very long and very slender!" william, who had said nothing as yet, but had been walking backwards and forwards, with his head down, and his hands in his pockets, turned suddenly round to mary, and said, "i have been thinking we can soon know if your knife is in the nest. we only want a polemoscope for that. hurrah! long live optics!" "a lemoscope!" said lucy, "what is that? is it a long hook?" _william_.--(smiling rather contemptuously.) "poor sister! what ignorance!" _father_--"william, speak kindly--tell your sister what this instrument is, and what you want to do with it." _william._--(scientifically.)--"in war, when a besieged garrison wishes to know all the movements of the enemy, without being seen, they erect behind the walls, or the ramparts, a mirror, placed at the end of a long pole, and inclining towards the country. you understand, then, that everything that takes place outside, is reflected in the mirror, and can be seen from within, or in another mirror placed at the bottom of the pole, and sloping inwards. this, lucy, is what is called a polemoscope--that is to say, an instrument for observations in war." "thank you, william," said lucy, "but what are you going to do with it?" _william._--"the thing is quite plain. i am going to fasten a small mirror on a light pitchfork, inclining it downwards. this pitchfork i shall fasten firmly to pole; then some one will climb, dear papa, without any danger, as far as the strong branches reach; from thence he can draw up the pole and its mirror, with a long string, and by raising the mirror above the nest, he will enable us to see, with the aid of your telescope, all that the nest contains. this is my plan, and i think it is not so bad!" _father_.--(smiling.)--"dear william. it is a great pity, however, that you are so blind. there are two things you have not considered. one is, that the branches which cover the nest, are very thick and tufted. therefore, your mirror, even if it reached their summit, would only reflect the leaves, and consequently neither the nest nor the knife; and the other thing which you do not observe, is this, that the magpies, by an admirable instinct, which god has given them, build their nests, not like a basin, as you supposed, but in the form of a ball; so that the nest is covered with a vaulted roof, formed of sticks closely interwoven, which shelters the bird and its brood from bad weather, and above all, from the cruel claw of the kite or hawk." "i am much obliged to you, dear papa," said william. "what a pity," he added, with a sigh; "for my plan would otherwise have been infallible." "let us seek a better one," said their father. "mary, go and see if you have not left your knife in the fruit-room. perhaps it was yesterday, that you peeled the apple for sophy." "i will do so," said mary, and she went into the house for the key of the fruit-room. she soon returned, exclaiming, "the key is not in its place, and i put it there this morning." "miss mary is mistaken," said elizabeth, coming out of the kitchen; "i see the key in the door." "papa," said mary, "i recollect, when i put the key in the cupboard, this very morning, sophy looked at it, and said, 'it is certainly the prettiest key on the bunch.'" "let us go to the fruit-room," said the father, directing his steps thither. "i fear this will prove a sad affair." "what is this, too," cried mary, examining the shelves, "the big key of the cellar here where did it come from? and this key covered with cheese, from one end to the other!" "let us go to the cellar!" said the father. "i believe we shall find out more there than we can here." they opened the door, and found the brilliant silver knife, not in the magpie's nest, but sticking in a cheese, from which a large portion appeared to have been detached. the children were amazed, and their father much grieved. "here is your knife, mary," said john, who first saw it. "certainly, there is no need of a looking-glass to find it." "you must not joke, my children," said the father; "this is a very sad business. i am thankful it has taken place in the absence of your dear mother, and i forbid you writing her anything about it. this must concern me, and me alone." _william_.--(indignantly.)--"it amounts to a theft, a falsehood!" _lucy_.--"but who has done it, william? did not mary leave her knife here?" _william_.--"who saw the magpie carrying it off in his beak?" _mary_.--(to lucy.)--"do you not understand that it was poor elizabeth, who came here with my knife, which she took off the table where i left it, and who, after having cut a piece of cheese with it, went to the fruit-room, no doubt to steal some apples also." _john_.--(angrily.)--"papa, elizabeth has acted deceitfully--will you allow her to remain with you? one of the psalms, the 101st, i think, says, 'he that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house.'" _the father_.--(gravely.) "it is said also in holy scriptures, my son, that 'mercy rejoiceth against judgment,' and perhaps, john, if any of us, had been brought up like poor elizabeth, we might have done even worse than this." "i am quite vexed," said mary, "oh! why did i not take more care of that wretched knife!" _william._--"but, mary, it was not your knife left upon the table, which tempted her to take two keys secretly out of the cupboard, and which made them the instruments of this theft. for papa," continued he, "it _is_ a theft, and a shameful one too! these stolen keys are no small matter!" _the father_.--(calmly.)--"i know it my children, and it grieves my heart, that one of my servants, who daily hears the word of god read and explained, should so far have forgotten the fear of the lord! this is what saddens me, and wounds me deeply." _lucy_.--"elizabeth has not long been our cook, and probably she never heard the word of god before she came here. poor girl i she is perhaps very unhappy now,--and i am sure, she will repent and turn to god." _the father_.-"that is right, my dear child, i rejoice to hear you plead the cause of the unhappy, and even of the guilty, for as i said before, 'mercy rejoiceth against judgment.'" "i was therefore wrong," said john, "and i confess it ... for certainly i scarcely pitied her.... i did wrong i and now i think as lucy does." "and i also," said william, "'clemency governs courage,' says a grecian historian, and ..." _the father._--(very seriously.)--"but, my dear william, what have the pagans of old and their morals to do here? my son, you know it is the word of god which rules our conduct, and which commands us to suffer and to forgive." _lucy._--"papa, will you allow me to repeat a passage, which i learnt by heart last sunday?" _the father._--"repeat it, lucy, and may god bless it to us all!" _lucy._--"'execute true judgment, and show mercy and compassion every man to his brother.' it is in the seventh chapter of zechariah." "i too, was wrong then," said william, "very wrong! for it is the wisdom of god alone, that enlightens us." "true, my son," said his father, "may god always remind you of this. i am going to speak to elizabeth," he added, "as for you, my children, do not say a word about it, and above all, bless the lord, for having made known to you his grace and holy law. pray to him together, that my words may have their due effect upon the mind of this poor guilty creature." the father went out to look for elizabeth, and the children repaired to william's room, who, having knelt down with them, prayed to the lord to take pity upon her, and to touch her heart, and he ended the prayer in the following words:--"in thy great wisdom, o most gracious god, and in thine infinite compassion, through jesus christ, grant unto each of us true repentance, and a sincere change of heart, and may this affliction be turned to the glory of our saviour jesus." the children then returned to their several occupations, and not one of them ever thought of judging elizabeth, or even speaking harshly of her. we may add, that the exhortation of her charitable master, produced sincere penitence in elizabeth, and that the poor girl was not sent out of the house; for "mercy pleaded against judgment." it is thus that god deals with us! oh! which of us can tell how often he has received pardon from the lord! iii. the modern dorcas "the night cometh when no man can work."--john, ix. oh! my sister! my sister! what a lesson may we learn from the death of our dear amelia! she was but sixteen years old like myself, and only two years older than you are, but how much had she done for the lord. i saw and heard her, when jesus came to call her to himself; i was in the churchyard when they placed her body in the grave! oh! what a solemn warning! and now i feel humbled before god, and i pray him to pour into my heart the same spirit which he bestowed so abundantly upon our friend, as well as that lively faith, which although amelia 'is dead, yet speaketh,' as it is said of abel, and which shall speak through her for many years to come! i wrote to you less than a fortnight ago, that amelia was unwell; but how little i then thought it was her last illness! oh! how uncertain our life is, dear esther, and how much wiser we should be if we would only believe so! on the seventh day of her illness, her mother said to me, "anna, your friend is going to leave us; the danger of her disorder increases every hour, and we must give her up to god!" i wept much and bitterly, and could not at first believe it; but when i was alone with amelia, the next day, she said to me, with that calm peacefulness which never left her, "i am going away from this world, anna; yes, dear anna, i am going to depart; i feel it, and ... i am preparing myself for it!" i tried to turn away her thoughts from this subject; i told her that she was mistaken, and that god would certainly restore her; but she stopped me with firmness of manner, and said, "do you envy my happiness, anna? do you wish to prevent me from going to my heavenly home, to my saviour, unto his light and glory?" the entrance of her father and the doctor prevented my reply, and i left the room in tears. "you must not cry," said her mother to me. "we must pray, and above all, seek profit from the occasion. the time is short! her end is at hand! but," added this servant of christ, "_that_ end is the beginning of a life which shall have no end!" three more days passed away. on the fourth, we had some faint hope, but the following day, all had vanished, and towards evening, amelia declared, that the lord was about to take her. "yes, my dear parents, my excellent father and mother," she said, with a beam of heavenly joy on her countenance, "i am about to leave you; but i do not leave my god, for i am going to see him, 'face to face.'" "my dear parents," she continued, affectionately, "rejoice at my departure; i am going to heaven a little before you, it is true, but it is _only before you_, and you know it; and the apostle says, that, 'to be with christ is far better.'" i was present, esther, and was crying. "why do you cry, anna?" she said, "are you sorry to see me go to my father's house?" "but, amelia, _i_ lose you; we all lose you; and ..." "i do not like to hear you say that, anna; do not repeat it, and do not think of it. our saviour says that, 'he who believes on him shall not see death;' and i am certain, that my soul is about to join those of his saints who have already departed this life, for his grace has also justified _me._" "ah!" said her aunt, who had not left her bedside for two days, "you have always done the will of god, dear amelia; you are therefore sure of going to him." "dear aunt," she replied, with sorrow on her countenance, "i assure you that you grieve me. i have been during the whole of my life, but a poor sinner, and have by no means done what you say; but.... god himself has pardoned me, and it is only, my dear aunt, because the blood of jesus has washed away my sins, that i shall see god." it was thus, my sister, that amelia spoke at intervals almost the whole night. her voice at length became weaker; and towards morning, after a slight drowsiness, she said to her father, "papa, embrace your child once more." she then turned to her mother, and said, "my dear mamma, embrace me also, and ... may jesus comfort you all!" a few minutes after, our darling friend fell gradually asleep, and her last breath died away like the expiring flame of a candle. she experienced nothing of the agony of death. truly, dear esther, amelia knew not what death was! but oh! how i have myself suffered! and how difficult it is to tear one's self thus forever here below, from such a friend as she was! nevertheless, my sister, god knows we have not dared to murmur. i wish you had heard the prayer that amelia's father offered up, when his daughter had ceased to breathe! oh! it was the spirit of consolation itself which spoke! and since that solemn hour, what piety, what strength and peace of mind, amelia's mother his displayed! i am sure you would have said, that the lord was present, and that he was telling us with his own voice: "amelia triumphs--she is in _my_ glory!" i wished to be in the churchyard when our friend, or rather, when her body of dust, was committed to the grave. there were many persons present, but especially poor people; some old men, and several children, came to take their last leave of her. a grey-headed and feeble old man was standing near the grave, leaning with his two hands on a staff, and with his head depressed. he wept aloud, when the clergyman mentioned amelia's name, as he prayed, and gave thanks to god. he then stooped down, and taking a little earth in his hand, said, as he scattered it over the coffin: "sleep, sweet messenger of consolation! sleep, until he whom thy lips first proclaimed to me, calls thee to arise!" and with this, he burst into tears, as they filled the grave. when all was finished, and the funeral procession had departed, the poor people who were present approached the grave, sobbing, and repeating, "sweet messenger of goodness! our kind friend, our _true_ mother!" and two or three of the children placed upon her grave nosegays of box and white flowers. "alas," said a young girl, "she will never hear me read the bible again, nor instruct me how to live!" another cried loudly, "who will now come to visit my sick mother, and read the bible to her, and bring her comfort and assistance." and there was a father, a poor workman, with two little boys, who, holding his children by the hand, came and placed himself near the spot where the head of amelia was laid, saying to them, "here, my poor children, under this sod, rests that sweet countenance which used to smile upon you, as if she had been your mother! her lips have often told you, that you were not orphans, and that god was better to you than a parent.... well, my dear children, let us remember what she used to say: 'god has not forgotten us, and he will sustain us!'" i was with my brother, who himself wept with all his heart, to see the sincere grief of these poor people. he whispered to me, "i have a great mind to speak to them, and ask them what amelia used to do for them." i had the same wish; so we approached a group which surrounded the grave, and asked them when they had become acquainted with amelia. "for my part," answered the old man, already spoken of, "this messenger of peace visited me two years ago, for the first time. i lived near a family to whom she had brought some worsted stockings, for winter was just setting in, and so my neighbor mentioned me to her, as a poor infirm old man. she desired to see me, and had she been my own daughter, she could never have shown me more respect and kindness! she procured me a warm quilt that same evening, and on the morrow, towards the middle of the day, she came with her excellent mother to pay me a long visit. "you must know, sir," continued the old man, to my brother, "i was then very ignorant, or rather my heart was hard and proud towards god. i had no bible, and did not care about one. well, this dear young lady not only brought me one, with her own hands, but came to read and explain it to me, with great patience, at least three times a week, during the first twelve months. "god took pity on me," added the old man, in a low voice, "and last year i began better to understand the full pardon which is in christ jesus, and was even able to pray with miss amelia. "she used sometimes to call me, 'my old father,' but it was i who ought to have called _her_ the _mother_, the true mother of my soul. "just one month ago, she came to me for the last time; she gave me with a sweet smile, these worsted gloves, which she had knitted herself, and then recommended me with much respect and kindness to thank our lord, who sent them me! this was the last of that sweet lady's charities to me!"... upon this, the old man turned away weeping, and as he walked slowly on, he frequently looked back upon the newly-covered grave. "the same thing happened to me," said the workman. "the mother of these two little children died ten months ago; we were in want of everything, then, and i knew not even how to dress these children. believe me, miss," he added, addressing me with feeling, "when the mother is gone, all is gone!... but our gracious god did not forsake us, for he sent us his angel; i say his angel, although she is at present much more than an angel!... is she not indeed a child of god in heaven? ... but, in short, she clothed these two little ones, and i am sure she did not spare herself in working for them; the clothes they now wear were made chiefly by that dear young lady's hands. then she used to come and visit us; she often made my two children go to her house, and always gave them good advice. she also sent them to school, and although it was certainly her mother who paid for them, yet it was miss amelia who taught them to read at home, and who, almost every sunday, made them repeat their bible lessons. "ah, miss," he continued, "all that that dear young lady did for us, for our souls as well as for our bodies, will only be known in heaven, and at the last day. for my part, and i say it here over her grave, and in the presence of god, i am certain, that when the lord jesus shall raise us all up again, the works of miss amelia will follow her, and we shall then see that while upon earth she served god with all her heart. "no," he added, as he wiped away the tears from his children's eyes, "i would not wish her to return from the glory which she now enjoys, at the same time i cannot conceal from you, that my heart mourns for her, and that i know we have lost our consolation, our benefactress, our faithful friend!" "who has not lost one?" exclaimed a poor woman, at whose side stood the little girls who had planted the flowers; "i know very well that miss amelia's mother will take her place, she is so good and kind! but it was no little joy to receive a visit from that sweet and amiable young lady, so good, so pious, and so full of joy. oh! what should i have done with my husband, so long confined to his bed, if this messenger of goodness had not procured work for me, and recommended me to the ladies who now employ me. and then again, what were we, until miss amelia spoke to us? how much she had to put up with when i refused to read the holy scriptures! and yet she was never weary of me. oh! no; she came day after day, to exhort and to teach me, and blessed be god, we begin now to know something of what the saviour has done for us. "and," added she, drawing the little girl towards her, "i shall go on with my dear children, reading and learning that word of god, which was miss amelia's greatest joy. "come, come, my friends," she said, in a persuasive tone, "_we_ must also die, and be put each in his turn, under this ground; but as our benefactress is not dead ... (no, she is not dead, for the lord has said it!)--so also shall not we die, if we follow in her steps." the poor woman then wished us good day, and moved away with her children. we all walked on together, still speaking of amelia. my brother took the names and addresses of many of the poor people, with whom he had just been conversing, and spoke a few words to them of comfort and encouragement. as soon as we were alone, he showed me the list of names, at the head of which was that of the old man, and he said, "here is a blessed inheritance which amelia has left us. she has done as dorcas did: her hands have clothed the poor, and her lips have spoken comfort to them. dear anna, amelia was not older than we are; let us remember this, for we know not when the lord shall call us." how wise and pious this dear brother is! we have already been able to pay together, two of amelia's visits. her mother, to whom we related all we had heard, gave us further particulars of what the pious and indefatigable amelia used to do. ah esther, her religion was not mere "lip-service." the spirit of the lord jesus christ assisted her, and she might have said with truth, i show "my faith by my works." let us take courage, then, my dear and kind sister! we lament our loss in amelia's death, but on her own account i lament her not. i can only contemplate her in the presence of god, and of her saviour, and i rejoice to think of her delight when she entered the region of heaven. how beautiful it must be, esther, to behold the glory of that heaven! to hear the voices of saints and angels, and to know that god loves us, and will make us happy forever. think, sister, of the meaning of--_forever!_ amelia's father, whom i saw a few hours ago with her excellent and pious mother, said to me, in speaking of their darling child, "for my own joy and comfort i should have wished to have kept her with us; but, my dear anna, even if i could have done so, what would have been all our happiness, compared with that which she now possesses in the presence of her god." but do not suppose, my sister, that amelia, with all her piety, was less prudent with regard to the things of this world, than faithful regarding those of heaven. her mother has shown me her books, and her different arrangements, all of which indicate that discretion spoken of in scripture, carried out in the most minute particulars. first, as respects order and cleanliness in everything belonging to her: it would be impossible to imagine a more proper arrangement than the one she made of each article, both in her wardrobe, her writing-table, her work-box, and her account-book. she had not much money to devote to her works of charity, but her industry made up for her limited means; for instance, in opening the bible which she generally made use of, i found in it, four or five pages written with a great deal of care; and her journal informed her mother, who read it, of the reason of this circumstance. it runs thus: "as old margaret has but one bible, some of the leaves of which have been lost, i have given her mine, which is quite complete, and have taken hers, adding to it some sheets of paper, upon which i have written the passages which were deficient. thus i have saved the expense of a new bible; and it is the same thing to me." amelia's diary is very remarkable; her mother has allowed me to read many portions of it, and to copy out what relates to her usual manner of employing each day. i send it to you, dear esther, and you will find, as i have done, that the spirit of god always teaches those who trust in him, how precious _time_ is here below. the following is what our dear friend wrote upon this subject. "_january 1st_, 1844--nearly eighteen centuries, and a half have passed away, since our saviour took upon himself the form of human flesh for our salvation. those years seemed long as they succeeded each other, but now that they are gone, they appear as nothing. "families, and nations, and the mighty generations of mankind, which, in times gone by, peopled the earth, have all passed away. nothing remains of them here below! "but such is not the case in heaven,--i should rather say,--in eternity. there, all these nations still exist, no man can be absent, but must appear before the sovereign judge, to answer for the use which he has made of his time. "how short that time is! where are the years that david lived, and where are those which methuselah passed in this world? their whole duration seems, at this distance, in the words of st. james, 'even as a vapor that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.' "it will therefore be the same with me. i know not how long i shall live here below, perhaps i shall see but a portion of this year, and shall enter into glory before it is concluded; or perhaps i shall yet see many more years. this the lord knows, and i ought not to consider that such knowledge would be of any importance to me, since that which constitutes my _life_, is not its length or duration, but the use which is made of it. "it is to jesus, then, that all my life must be devoted, without him i can do nothing. 'my life is hid with christ in god.' he has 'bought me with a price,' i ought, therefore, 'to glorify god in my body, and in my spirit, which are god's.' "truly to live is to know, that my thoughts and actions are all directed to the glory of jesus, whether upon earth by faith and hope, or in heaven by the sight and by the glory of god. "but here below, i have only time at my disposal; that is to say, days composed of hours or rather, i have in reality but a single day to make use of. yesterday is no longer mine, and to-morrow, where is it? i have it not yet, and perhaps shall never see it. "lo my earthly life is 'to-day.' what must i do then with 'to-day,' that god may be honored and glorified in it? for after all, if i have the happiness of counting the year 1844, as dating from a christian era, and not from that of a false prophet with the mahomedans, nor yet of a false god, with the poor indians, it must be to jesus christ, from whose birth i count my years, that those years should be dedicated. "here i am, therefore, in the presence of my saviour, of whom i implore the spirit of wisdom and prudence to guide me in the employment of this my day, since in reality i have but one, and that is, 'to-day.' "but i cannot do better than walk in the footsteps of my redeemer, and in his conduct and conversation whilst on earth, i observe these three things: temperance, piety, and charity, to all of which he wholly devoted himself, and has thus left me an example to follow. "i will therefore imitate him first in his temperance. he rose early in the morning--he eat frugally--he worked diligently--he wearied himself in well-doing: in a word, he exerted the whole strength of his mind and body in the cause of truth, but never in the cause of evil. "these, therefore, must be settled rules, moderate sleep, moderate repasts, moderate care and attention to the body; active employment, always to a useful purpose, profitable to my neighbor, and never interfering with my duties at home. "in the next place, i must imitate jesus in his _piety_. his father's will was as his daily food. what a thought! to live wholly to god, and as he himself teaches us in his holy word. to do this, i must know his word; i must study it, meditate upon it, and learn it by heart. besides reading, i must pray, for prayer is the life both of my heart and soul with god. what glory is thus permitted to me, a poor sinner, that i _ought_, and that i _can_, live to him, love him, and devote myself to him! it is heaven already begun on earth; for in heaven my soul will enjoy no other happiness than that of knowing god, and living to his glory. this thought fills me with joy, and i am encouraged by it to consecrate myself wholly to him, as did my lord and saviour. "lastly, i will, by the grace of god, imitate jesus in his _charity_. how many souls there are about me to love, to comfort, to enlighten and to assist. but i can only do it in the measure which god himself has assigned to me. at my age, and but a girl, subject to the wishes of my parents, i ought only to desire to do good in proportion to the means with which the lord has furnished me. but i must, in so doing, endeavor to overcome selfishness, idleness, the love of ease, avarice, hardness of heart, pride, and indifference, and i must love my neighbor as myself. oh! what an important undertaking, and how many excuses and deceits this kind of charity will encounter and overcome. "but i will look to jesus, and pray to him; i will implore the secret guidance of his spirit; and since he is faithful, he will not leave me alone, but will lead me, and enable me to walk day by day, i mean 'to-day,' in his sight, and in communion with him, who is so full of love and gentleness." this, my dear esther, is what i have copied from amelia's journal. you see the light in which our friend regarded her life on earth, and how much importance she attached to one _day_--a single day. as i read what she had written, i felt my soul humbled before god, and i trembled to think of the useless way in which i had hitherto spent my time. you see in particular what amelia felt on the subject of piety; what love her soul had for god! and this is what produced in her that active, sincere, and constant charity. you cannot form the least idea of the work, of kindness and benevolence which she was enabled to accomplish. that passage, "the memory of the just is blessed," is truly applicable to her. amelia was justified in her saviour, for she trusted in him, and thus was she also justified before god, by her faith in jesus. the spirit of jesus led her in "all her way," and in whatever family she appeared, her actions and words manifested a heavenly mind. her name is remembered with blessing in the hearts of all who knew her; her counsels, her instructions, her example, and her acts of benevolence, are continually spoken of by those who witnessed them, and it is thus that she left behind a sweet savor of holiness, like a ray of heavenly light. dear esther, here is an example placed before us; it has been the will of god that we should know her, that we might be charmed with her excellence, and that the happiness both of her life and death, might tempt us to imitate her. no, no, my sister, she is not dead; she is rather, as the poor workman said, at her grave, "a child of god in heaven." as _she_ followed jesus, let us also follow her, and let her memory be thus a blessing to us both. god be with you, my dear sister. i long to see you, that we may pray the lord together, to make us like his faithful, holy servant, the dear and pious amelia. yours, &c., anna. iv. the tract found by the way-side. "take away the dross from the silver, and there shall come forth a vessel for the finer." --prov. xxv. 4. every one knows in these days what is meant by a _religious tract_. it is a little printed pamphlet, which is sold at a very low price, or is still oftener given away, or dropped in the streets and lanes, that those who either purchase, or accept, or find them, may read the truths of the gospel, and the good advice which they contain. this is an old-fashioned way of imparting instruction, both to high and low. it was in use, for instance, as early as the first days of the reformation, when some faithful christians of picardy, in france, assembled together to read the holy scriptures, on which account they were exposed to persecution, death, and above all, to be burnt alive. these true disciples of the lord jesus composed and distributed, with considerable difficulty, some little pamphlets, in which were taught the doctrines of salvation by christ alone, and in a form which enabled the poor and ignorant to read and understand; for it was impossible for them at that time to procure a bible, which was not only a scarce book, but cost a large sum of money: indeed, almost as much as a thousand bibles would cost in the present day, and which, besides, they could not carry home and read quietly to themselves, as they were able to do with a simple tract. at a later period, and chiefly for the last fifty years, this method has been adopted in almost all countries where true christian churches and societies have been established; and even now, millions of these tracts, adapted to all ages and conditions of men, are published and distributed every year. it is, however, but too true, that many tracts thus distributed are not _religious tracts_; that is to say, the substance of them is not in conformity with the truth of scripture. many are published for the purpose of upholding false religion and wicked principles, and which, consequently, do great mischief to those who read them. and if it be asked, "how can a good tract be distinguished from a bad one?" we thus reply to this very natural question. a _good tract_ is that which leads us to the bible; which speaks of the love of god in christ; and which encourages the reader to be holy from a motive of love to god. a _bad tract_ is therefore that which does not speak of the bible; which tells us that salvation may be obtained by human merit, and which consequently would persuade us to be religious from interested motives: that is to say, to obtain pardon by means of our own good works. those tracts, too, which speak of man's happiness as if it came from man alone, and not from god, and which consequently deny the truth of god's word: these must also be called _bad tracts_, and must therefore be carefully avoided. the good that is done by the distribution of good tracts, can scarcely be believed. there are many families, even in prosperity, who never tasted real happiness until some of these evangelical writings found their way amongst them. the following anecdote is an interesting proof of this: the family of a vinedresser, in the canton of vaud, in switzerland, was, unhappily, as well known in the village in which he lived, for his bad conduct, as for his impiety. the father, whose name we will not mention, was a proud and hard-hearted man, both intemperate and dissolute; and his wife, who thought as little of the fear of god as her husband did, was what might be called a _noisy babbler_. the pastor of the village had often, but vainly, endeavored to lead these unhappy people to a sense of religion, but he was always received by them with scoffing and ridicule. the family was composed of the vinedresser's three children. the eldest, mark, was as haughty as his father, and although he was only fourteen years of age, he was already able to join in the disorders of his drunken and gaming companions. he was entirely devoid of any sense of religion. his sister, josephine, who was rather more than twelve years old, possessed a more amiable disposition. the pastor's wife took much interest in this child, who could not help seeing that her parents were not guided by the spirit of god. peter, the youngest, was but ten years of age, but his brother's wicked example counteracted all the good which he might have received from that of his more amiable sister. about the end of may, there was to be, in a village not far distant, a match at rifle-shooting. it was a public fete, at which all the people in the neighborhood assembled. on the morning of this day, mark had answered his father with great insolence, at which he was so much enraged, that he punished him severely, and forbad him, besides, to go to the fete. the father went thither himself, and mark, after a moment's indecision, determined not to heed the command he had received, but to follow him to the shooting-match. he therefore took advantage of his mother's absence, who, according to her usual custom, was gone to gossip with some of her neighbors, and notwithstanding the remonstrances of josephine, he hastened over fields and hedges, to the scene of the match. "what is this?" cried he, picking up a little pamphlet, with a cover of colored paper, which was lying on the path near the opening in the hedge. "oh! it is one of those tracts they leave about everywhere; it will do very well to load my gun;" and so saying, he put the tract into his pocket, and ran on as before. but when he approached the village where they were shooting, dancing, playing, and making a great noise, he suddenly stopped, for he recollected that if he should meet with his father, who was there, he would certainly beat him, and send him home again, in presence of all the people who might be assembled; besides, his brother peter was there also, and he might see him, and tell his father. he therefore kept at a distance, behind a hedge, not daring to advance any farther. "supposing i read this book!" said he, at last, after having vainly racked his brain to find out how he could be at the fete without being discovered. "there is nothing in it but nonsense, i know beforehand; however, it will occupy me for a while." this tract was called "the happy family," and mark became so much interested in it, that he not only read the whole, but many parts of it twice over. "how odd it is," said he, when he had finished reading; "i should never have thought it could be thus; this andrew and julia, after all, were much happier than we are, and than i am, in particular. ah!" added he, as he walked on by the hedge-side, looking on the ground, "possibly josephine may have spoken the truth, and that, after all, the right way is the one which this lady points out." as he thought over the little story he had been reading, he retraced his steps towards his own village, at first rather slowly, but soon at a quicker pace, and he entered his father's house very quietly, and without either whistling or making a noise, as he generally did. "you have not then been to the fete," said josephine. _mark_.--(a little ashamed.)--"i dared not go, i was afraid my father would beat me." _josephine_.--"it would have been better, mark, if you had been equally afraid of offending god." mark was on the point of ridiculing her, as he always did, but he recollected andrew and julia, and was silent. _josephine_.--(kindly.)--"but is it not true, mark? would it not be better to fear god, than to be always offending him?" _mark_.--(knitting his brow.)--"yes, as andrew and julia did! would it not?" _josephine_.--(surprised.)--"of whom do you speak, mark? is it of "the happy family," in which an andrew and a julia are mentioned. have you ever read that beautiful story?" "here it is," said mark, drawing the tract from his pocket, and giving it to his sister. _josephine_.--"yes, this is it, exactly! but brother, where did you get it, for it is quite new; did you buy it of a _scripture reader_." "did i _buy_ it?" said mark, sullenly. "do you suppose i should spend my money in such nonsense as _that?_" _josephine_.--"then how did you get it? did any one give it you?" _mark_.--(slyly.)--"ah! they have often tried to give me some, but i tore them to pieces, and threw them away, before their faces!" _josephine_.--"so much the worse, mark! for the truth of god is written in them, and it is very sinful to tear the truth of god in pieces." _mark_.--(rudely.)--"but you see i have not torn this, for it is quite whole! and as you are so anxious to know how i came by it, i found it on the ground, near the road, and just beyond the brushwood." _josephine_.--"ah! then i know where it came from. the pastor's son, and the two sons of the schoolmaster, have got up a religious tract society, who distribute them in all directions." _mark_.--(reproachfully.)--"and pray why do they scatter them about in this way? can't they leave people alone, without cramming every body's head with their own fancies. let them keep their religion to themselves, and leave other people to do the same." _josephine_.--"do you think, mark, that andrew and julia did wrong to listen to their father and grandmamma, and to follow the precepts of the bible in preference to the ridicule of scoffers." _mark_.--(softened.)--"i did not say _that_.... i think andrew and julia were right; but ... come give me back the tract; i want to look at something in it again." mark then went away, carrying the tract with him; and shortly after, josephine saw him sitting in the garden, behind a hedge of sweet-briar, reading it attentively. "where's that good-for-nothing mark?" demanded the vinedresser, when he returned home at night half tipsy. "did he dare to venture to the shooting-match? i was told that he was seen sneaking about the outskirts of the village! where is he now?" "he went to bed more than an hour ago," answered his mother, "and was no more at the shooting-match than i was, for i saw him reading in the garden." "mark, _reading_!" replied his father. "what could he be reading? it would be a miracle to see him with a book in his hand. an idle fellow like him, who never did learn any thing, and never will!" the vinedresser's wife was silent, and after putting poor little peter to bed, who was quite tired and weary, she managed to get the father to bed also, and peace reigned for a season in this miserable abode. mark, however, who was not asleep when his father returned, had heard himself called a good-for-nothing idle fellow, and he trembled from head to foot, when he found he had been seen in the neighborhood of the village. "what a good thing it was," said he to himself, "that i did not go on! it was certainly god who prevented me!" added he, half ashamed of the thought because it was so new to him; but he determined no longer to resist it. on the morrow, to the great surprise of his father and mother, mark got up in good humor; he answered his father without grumbling, and when he was desired to go and work in the field, mark hastened to take his hoe and spade, and set off, singing merrily. "what has happened to him?" asked the father. "one would scarcely believe it was he! wife, what did you say to him yesterday, to make him so good-humored this morning?" "i never even spoke to him," said his wife, dryly. "you know how whimsical he is." "i wish he may remain in his present mind!" said the vinedresser; and thereupon he went off to the ale-house, to talk with his neighbors of the best shots of the preceding day. josephine related the history of the little tract to the good pastor's wife, who advised her to meet mark on his return from the field, and to speak to him again of what he had read. "is it _you_, sister?" said mark, in a happy tone of voice, as soon as he saw her. "it is very good of you to meet me." josephine, who never received such a welcome from him before, was quite delighted, and going up to him, she said, affectionately, "i want very much to talk with you again about andrew and julia." _mark_.--(seriously.)--"and so do i. i should like very much to resemble them." _josephine_.--(quickly.)--"do you mean what you say, mark? have you thought of it again since yesterday?" _mark_.--(still serious.)--"i have thought so much about it, that i am determined to change my habits. yes, josephine, i think you are right, and that, after all, religion is better than ridicule." the conversation continued as it had commenced, and when mark returned home, he went up and kissed his mother, who was just laying the table for dinner. "what's the matter?" said she, with some surprise; "you seem in very good spirits, today." "nothing is the matter, good mother, but that i wish to alter my conduct," replied mark, seriously. "to alter your conduct," cried little peter, as he looked up in his brother's face, and began to titter. "and you, too, little peter," said mark, "you must become good, also." "what a funny idea," cried the child, laughing. "_what_ has made you turn schoolmaster, all at once? and, pray, when am i to begin?" "we shall see by-and-bye," said mark, kindly. "in the meantime, come and help me to tend the cow." "there is something behind all this!" said the mother and she blushed to think that this change had not been occasioned by anything she had said or done to him, herself. when the father returned from the ale-house, they all sat down to dinner, and as usual, without saying "_grace_." josephine said hers to herself, and mark, who recollected andrew and julia, blushed when he took his spoon to eat his soup. after dinner, when they were out of the house, josephine said to mark, "what a pity it is, brother, that papa does not pray before each meal." "all _that_ will come in time, josephine," said mark; "i never prayed myself, and yet ... i must now begin directly. but what shall i do? papa will be very angry if he sees me religious." "i do not think he will," said josephine, "for i heard him say to mumma, this morning, that he should be very glad if your conduct improved." mark blushed, but did not reply. he returned to his work without being desired to do so, and his father, who was quite astonished, said to his wife, "there is something very extraordinary about mark. i wish it may last." "you wish it may last!" said his wife; "how can you wish that, when you do not care to improve yourself." "and you, my poor wife," said the vinedresser, "do you care to change any more than i do? i think as to that matter, we cannot say much against each other." "well, at all events," said his wife, "i am not a drunkard." "nor am i a tattler," replied the husband. "and for this reason let us each think of our own fault, and if mark is disposed to reform, do not let us prevent him; for, my poor wife, _our_ example is not a very good one for him." josephine, who was working at her needle, in the adjoining room, could not help overhearing this confession of her father, and she felt the more encouraged to uphold mark in his good intention. she therefore went again to meet him, and repeated to him all she had heard. "i think," added she, "you will do well to relate what has happened to our father and mother, and read them the little tract." "not yet," said mark, "for my principles are not sufficiently strong. it is but an hour since the ale-house keeper's son laughed at me, because i told him i would not play at nine-pins with him, during working hours. he asked me if i was becoming a methodist, and i did not know what answer to make. however, i trust i am already improving, and i have read the little tract again for the third time." "oh!" said josephine, "we ought to read the bible, and we do not possess one." "true," said mark, somewhat surprised. "i never thought of _that_. we have really no bible in the house! indeed, this must not be," he added, looking on the ground, and striking it with his spade. "what shall we do, then?" said josephine, "for it would be very nice to have one." mark became thoughtful, but said nothing. from that day his conduct was always regular, and his habits industrious, so much so, that his father, who was never in the habit of showing him much kindness, said to him, at the dinner table, and before all the rest of the family, "well, my good mark, tell us what has happened to you; for it is very pleasant to us to see how well you now behave. tell us, my boy, what has been the cause of this improvement." "it was from this book," said mark, drawing it out of his pocket, where he always kept it. "what book is it?" said his mother, scornfully. "is it not some of that horrid trash, that"... "be silent," cried the father. "if this book has done good, how can it be horrid trash? do sour grapes produce good wine?" "but," replied the mother, bitterly, "i will not have any of those books and tracts in this house." "well, for my part," said the vinedresser, "i will encourage all that teach my children to do what is right. mark has worked well for the last eight days; he has not occasioned me a moment's vexation during the whole of that time, and as he says that this book has been the means of his improvement, i shall also immediately read it myself. come, mark, let us hear it. you can read fluently; come, we will all listen. wife, do you be quiet, and you too, peter; as for josephine she is quite ready." mark began to read, but he could not proceed far; his father got up and went out, without saying a word, and his mother began to remove the dinner-things. but as soon as the family re-assembled in the evening, the father said to mark, "go on with your reading, mark, i want to hear the end, for i like the story." mark read, and when he came to that part of the tract, in which the bible is mentioned, the vinedresser looked up to a high shelf on the wall, where were some old books, and said, "wife, had we not once a bible?" "fifteen years ago," she answered, "you exchanged it for a pistol." the vinedresser blushed, and listened with out farther interruption until mark had done reading. when the tract was finished, he remained silent, his head leaning on his hands, and his elbows on his knees. josephine thought this was the time to speak about the bible, which she had so long wished to possess, and she went up to her father, and stood for some time by his side without speaking. her father perceived her, and raising his head, he said to her, "what do you want, josephine, tell me, my child, what do you want to ask me?" "dear papa," said the child, "i have long desired to read the bible, would you be so kind as to buy me one?" "a bible," cried her mother, "what can _you_ want with a bible, at _your_ age?" "oh! wife, wife," said the vinedresser, much vexed, "when will you help me to do what is right?" "yes, my child," he added, kissing josephine's cheek, "i will buy you one to-morrow. do you think there are any to be had at the pastor's house?" "oh! yes, plenty," cried josephine, "and very large ones too!" "very well then," said the father, as he got up, and went out of the house, "you shall have a very large one." "but," said his wife, calling after him, "you don't know how much it will cost." "it will not cost so much as the wine i mean no longer to drink!" replied the father, firmly. he kept his word. the bible was purchased on the morrow, and the same evening the father desired mark to read him a whole chapter. the ale-house saw him no more the whole of that week, and still less the following sunday. his friends laughed at him, and wanted to get him back. he was at first tempted and almost overcome, but the thought of the bible restrained him, and he determined to refuse. "are you gone mad, then?" said they. "no," replied he, "but i read the bible now, and as it says, that drunkards shall not 'inherit the kingdom of god,' i listen to what it says, and i desire to cease to be a drunkard." "you see," said josephine to mark, as they accompanied each other to church, "how good god has been to us. we have now a bible, and it is read by all at home." _mark_.--"have you been able to tell the pastor's son how much good his tract has done us?" _josephine_.--"i told his mother." _mark_.--"and what did she say?" _josephine_.--"she said, 'god is wonderful in all his ways,' and that, 'he which hath begun the good work in us, will perform it until the day of jesus christ.'" _mark_.--(feelingly.)--"who could have thought that when i went as a rebel to that fete, that god was there waiting to draw me to himself. but, dear josephine, there is yet much to be done." "but," said josephine, "where god has promised he is also able to perform. he has told us to pray in the name of the lord jesus christ. let us do so, and you will see that god will renew our hearts, and make us wise and good." proofreading team. bible stories and religious classics with an introduction by anson phelps stokes, jr. _illustrated by_ beatrice stevens 1903 introduction there never was a time when the demand for books for young people was so great as it is to-day or when so much was being done to meet the demand. "children's counter," "boys' books," are signs which, especially at the christmas season, attract the eye in every large book shop. tales of adventure, manuals about various branches of nature study, historical romances, lives of heroes--in fact, almost every kind of book--is to be found in abundance, beautifully illustrated, attractively bound, well printed, all designed and written especially for the youth of our land. it is indeed an encouraging sign. it means that the child of to-day is being introduced to the world's best in literature and science and history and art in simple and gradual ways. in the middle ages stories of the martyrs and legends of the church, along with some simple form of catechetical instruction, formed the basis of a child's mental and religious training. later, during and after the crusades, the stories of war and the mysteries of the east increased the stock in trade for the homes of europe; but still the horizon remained a narrow one. even the invention of printing did not bring to the young as many direct advantages as would naturally be expected. to-day, when christian missionaries set up a printing press in some distant island of the sea, the first books which they print in the vernacular are almost invariably those parts of the bible, such as the gospels and the stories of genesis, which most appeal to the young, and, what is of special importance, they have the young directly and mainly in mind in their publishing work. this was not true a few centuries ago. the presses were, perhaps naturally and inevitably, almost exclusively occupied with books for the learned world. to be sure, the legenda aurea, of which i shall speak later, although not intended primarily for children, proved a great boon to them. so did the chap books of england. but it was not until the middle of the eighteenth century, when john newbery set up his book shop at st. paul's churchyard, london, that any special attention was given by printers to the publication, in attractive form, of juvenile books. newbery's children's books made him famous in his day, but the world seems to have forgotten him. yet he deserves a monument along with æsop, and la fontaine, and kate greenaway, and andersen, and scott and henty, and all the other greater and lesser lights who have done so much to gladden the heart and enlarge the mind of childhood and youth. but from newbery's day to this year of our lord nineteen hundred and three is a very long jump in what we may call the evolution of juvenile literature, for the preparation of reading matter for young people seems now almost to have reached its climax. there is one field, however, and that the one which this volume tries to cover, which strangely enough seems to have been almost neglected. of "goody-goody" sunday school library books of an old-fashioned type, which are insipid and lacking both in virility of thought and literary form, there are, alas, already too many. what we need is something to take their place, something which will furnish real literature, and yet which from subject matter and manner of handling is specially adapted to what i still like to call sunday reading, a phrase which unfortunately seems to mean little to most people to-day. bearing this in mind, it is the purpose of this book to gather together, in attractive form, such religious classics as are specially fitted to interest and uplift young people. there is a wide variety in so far as _subject matter_, _source_ and _form_ are concerned, but a certain unity is given to the contents of the volume by the religious note, which, whether brought prominently forward or not, is found alike in all the selections. the bible has furnished directly or indirectly most of the _subject matter_ here used. the biographies of various scripture characters appear in large numbers. adam and noah head the list, and peter and paul bring up the end of a procession of worthies whose heroic deeds as the servants of jehovah will always appeal to the imagination of youthful minds. but it is not with bible characters only that this book deals. the lives of christian saints who entered upon their inheritance, such as christopher and sylvester and francis of assisi, also have their place, while yet more prominent are stories and poems based on some bible incidents. even selections such as hawthorne's great stone face or wordsworth's ode to duty have their roots deep in the bible, for they can be understood and explained only by those who know the revelation it contains. in so far, then, as the subject matter of the volume is concerned, either it or its inspiration can always be traced back to the bible. when we turn from the bible material which, as we have seen, supplies both subject and inspiration, to the _source_ from which the selections in their literary form as here given are derived, we find that the old foundations have sufficed for many kinds of structure. probably the source from which the editor has drawn most largely is the golden legend. this work, which was translated into english and printed by caxton in 1483, although little heard of now, was for several centuries a household word in christendom. it was the creation of a genoese archbishop, jacobus de voragine, and dates from about the middle of the thirteenth century. the good archbishop, using the bible and the lives of the saints as a basis, and as a sharer of the superstitions of the time having unbounded faith in every legend of the church, put together in simple form for the edification of his flock the various stories about jewish and christian worthies which compose the original legenda aurea. this was translated into french by one jean de vignay in the fourteenth century, and the english version was in turn mainly made from this translation. in the simple, sturdy language of caxton the book became a most popular one, being often read aloud in the parish churches of england, where it helped to familiarize the people, especially the young, with sacred story as represented by the heroes of the old testament and the saints of the church. in caxton's introduction there is a quaint sentence regarding the name of the book. after mentioning the latin title, he adds "that is to say in englyshe the golden legende for lyke as passeth golde in vallwe al other metallys, soo thys legende exedeth all other bokes." whether the good printer's judgment be justified or no, it is not for us to say. it is true, however, that after the passing of over six centuries since its original production, the editor of this volume in looking for religious classics for young people has made more use of it than of any other collection. all honor, then, to the old archbishop of genoa and to william caxton, who made his work accessible to the youth of england. the only other work which deserves any special mention as a source for the contents of this volume, is the stories and tales of hans christian andersen. if ever there was any one who deserved the title of the children's friend, surely this son of a poor danish shoemaker is the man. his tales have been translated into many languages, and because of their true imagination and their simplicity of expression they have appealed to all children. ten or more of them appear in this volume. they are charming and wholesome reading, and their continued popularity makes us realize the truth of these closing lines in andersen's the old grave stones: "the good and the beautiful perish never; they live eternally in tale and song." the other sources from which this collection has been made up are so varied as to require no mention aside from that given with each title. the master poets of english literature have been freely drawn upon: byron to tell of the destruction of sennacherib, milton to sing of christ's nativity, wordsworth to meditate aloud on duty, and other great writers to emphasize various deep truths of life. * * * * * as we turn from subject matter and source to _form_, we again find great variety. almost every kind of literature is represented. the early lengends of the jewish people, told by the author of the legenda aurea almost in the words of scripture, bring to young and old alike the same lessons about god and duty. the fact that they are legends, rather than exact history, does not in any way lessen their religious value. then, too, the book contains allegories, such as that of the pilgrim's progress, christendom's greatest religious classic next to the bible itself, and those of some of andersen's tales. poetry also is well represented, the selections being in large part suggested by scripture. there are in addition many stories in the ordinary sense of the word--tales which are entirely the fabric of the imagination, but which, like the selections from hawthorne, have some great lesson to teach. in fact, the literary forms represented in this volume are almost as numerous as those of the bible itself. the latter used to be looked upon merely as a storehouse of historic facts and devotional songs; now we see in it legend, oratory, poetry, allegory, history, proverb and prophecy; and we find that all of these forms are used by god's servants to teach his truth to men. * * * * * sufficient has been said, i think, to show the purpose and scope of this volume and to introduce the reader to its contents. it is my hope and belief that the effort of my friend, mr. philip p. wells, to make this a collection of religious classics in the full meaning of these words may prove successful. my highest wish, however, is that those who read these selections, with their great variety of source and form, may mark the inspiration of thought or incident common to them all, and may find an interest in refreshing what may be an old acquaintance with that book of books which gives with classic truth the fundamental subject matter for all deep thought and high aspiration. anson phelps stokes, jr. contents the life of adam here beginneth the history of noah the rainbow here followeth the life of abraham here beginneth the life of isaac, with the history of esau and of jacob here beginneth the history of joseph and his brethren here next followeth the history of moses the burial of moses the history of joshua the history of saul the history of david the song of david the story of a cup of water the history of solomon the history of rehoboam a little maid here followeth the history of job the destruction of sennacherib here followeth the history of tobit here beginneth the story of judith the vision of belshazzar a christmas carol on the morning of christ's nativity the burning babe a cradle song easter the life of st. peter the apostle the life of st. paul the apostle the life of st. christopher the seven sleepers the life of st. silvester of st. austin that brought christendom to england edwin and paulinus the life of st. george, martyr the life of st. patrick of st. francis song of the emigrants in bermuda landing of the pilgrim fathers in new england the pilgrim's progress the pilgrim the great stone face the gentle boy the angel the red shoes the loveliest rose in the world a vision of the last day the old gravestone good-for-nothing in the uttermost parts of the sea something the jewish girl the story of a mother the little match girl flowers without fruit contentment the search for peace a song of praise the traveller true greatness character of a happy life a thanksgiving to god for his house friends departed the land of dreams adoration bible stories and religious classics the life of adam _the sunday of septuagesima beginneth the story of the bible, in which is read the legend and story of adam which followeth_ in the beginning god made and created heaven and earth. the earth was idle and void and covered with darkness. and the spirit of god was borne on the waters, and god said: be made light, and anon light was made. and god saw that light was good, and divided the light from darkness, and called the light day and darkness night. and thus was made light with heaven and earth first, and even and morning was made one day. the second day he made the firmament, and divided the waters that were under the firmament from them that were above, and called the firmament heaven. the third day were made on the earth herbs and fruits in their kind. the fourth day god made the sun and moon and stars, etc. the fifth day he made the fishes in the water and birds in the air. the sixth day god made the beasts on the earth, every one in his kind and gender. and god saw that all these works were good and said: make we man unto our similitude and image. here spake the father to the son and holy ghost, or else as it were the common voice of three persons, when it was said make we, and to our, in plural number. man was made to the image of god in his soul. here it is to be noted that he made not only the soul with the body, but he made both body and soul. as to the body he made male and female. god gave to man the lordship and power upon living beasts. thus in six days was heaven and earth made and all the ornation of them. and then he made the seventh day on which he rested, not for that he was weary, but ceased his operation, and showed the seventh day which he blessed. thus he shortly showed the generations of heaven and earth, for here he determined the works of the six days and the seventh day he sanctified and made holy. god had planted in the beginning paradise a place of desire and delices. and man was made in the field of damascus; he was made of the slime of the earth. paradise was made the third day of creation, and was beset with herbs, plants and trees, and is a place of most mirth and joy. in the midst whereof be set two trees, that is the tree of life, and that other the tree of knowing good and evil. and there is a well, which casteth out water for to water the trees and herbs of paradise. this well is the mother of all waters, which well is divided into four parts. one part is called phison. this goeth about inde. the second is called gijon, otherwise nilus, and that runneth about ethiopia, the other two be called tigris and euphrates. tigris runneth toward assyria, and euphrates is called fruitful, which runneth in chaldea. these four floods come and spring out of the same well, and depart, and yet in some place some of them meet again. then god took man from the place of his creation and brought him into paradise, for to work there, not to labor needily, but in delighting and recreating him, and that he should keep paradise. for like as paradise should refresh him, so should he labor to serve god, and there god gave him a commandment. every commandment standeth in two things, in doing or forbidding, in doing he commanded him to eat of all the trees of paradise, in forbidding he commanded that he should not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. this commandment was given to the man, and by the man it went to the woman. for when the woman was made it was commanded to them both, and hereto he set a pain, saying: whatsoever day thou eatest thereof thou shalt die by death. god said: it is not good a man to be alone, make we to him an helper like to himself for to bring forth children. adam supposed that some helper to him had been among the beasts which had been like to him. therefore god brought to adam all living beasts of the earth and air, in which he understood them of the water also, which with one commandment all came tofore him. they were brought for two causes, one was because man should give to each of them a name, by which they should know that he should dominate over them, and the second cause was because adam should know that there was none of them like to him. and he named them in the hebrew tongue, which was only the language and none other at the beginning. and so none being found like unto him, god sent in adam a lust to sleep, which was no dream, but as is supposed in an extasy or in a trance; in which was showed to him the celestial court. wherefore when he awoke he prophesied of the conjunction of christ to his church, and of the flood that was to come, and of the doom and destruction of the world by fire he knew, which afterward he told to his children. whiles that adam slept, god took one of his ribs, both flesh and bone, and made that a woman, and set her tofore adam. which then said: this is now a bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; and adam gave her a name like as her lord, and said she should be called virago, which is as much as to say as made of a man, and is a name taken of a man. and anon, the name giving, he prophesied, saying: because she is taken of the side of a man, therefore a man shall forsake and leave father and mother and abide and be adherent unto his wife, and they shall be two in one flesh; and though they be two persons, yet in matrimony and wedlock they be but one flesh, and in other things twain. for why, neither of them had power of his own flesh. they were both naked and were not ashamed, for they stood both in the state of innocence. then the serpent which was hotter than any beast of the earth and naturally deceivable, for he was full of the devil lucifer, which was deject and cast out of heaven, had great envy to man that was bodily in paradise, and knew well, if he might make him to trespass and break god's commandments, that he should be cast out also. yet he was afeard to be taken or espied of the man, he went to the woman, not so prudent and more prone to slide and bow. and in the form of the serpent, for then the serpent was erect as a man. bede saith that he chose a serpent having a maiden's cheer [face], for like oft apply to like, and spake by the tongue of the serpent to eve, and said: why commanded you god that ye should not eat of all the trees of paradise? this he said to find occasion to say that he was come for. then the woman answered and said: ne forte moriamur, lest haply we die, which she said doubting, for lightly she was flexible to every part. whereunto anon he answered: nay in no wise ye shall die, but god would not that ye should be like him in science, and knowing that when ye eat of this tree ye shall be as gods knowing good and evil, he as envious forbade you. and anon the woman, elate in pride and willing to be like to god, accorded thereto and believed him. the woman saw that the tree was fair to look on, and clean and sweet of savor, took and ate thereof, and gave unto adam of the same, happily desiring him by fair words. but adam anon agreed, for when he saw the woman not dead he supposed that god had said that they should die to fear them with, and then ate of the fruit forbidden. and anon their sight was opened that they saw their nakedness, and then anon they understood that they had trespassed. and thus they knew that they were naked, and they took fig leaves and sewed them together for to cover their members in manner of breeches. and anon after, they heard the voice of our lord god walking, and anon they hied him. our lord called the man and said: adam, where art thou? calling him in blaming him and not as knowing where he was, but as who said: adam, see in what misery thou art. which answered: i have hid me, lord, for i am naked. our lord said: who told thee that thou wert naked, but that thou hast eaten of the tree forbidden? he then not meekly confessing his trespass, but laid the fault on his wife, and on him as giver of the woman to him, and said: the woman that thou gavest to me as a fellow, gave to me of the tree, and i ate thereof. and then our lord said to the woman: why didst thou so? neither she accused herself, but laid the sin on the serpent, and privily she laid the fault on the maker of him. the serpent was not demanded, for he did it not of himself, but the devil by him. and our lord, cursing them, began at the serpent, keeping an order and congruous number of curses. the serpent was the first and sinned most, for he sinned in three things. the woman next and sinned less than he, but more than the man, for she sinned in two things. the man sinned last and least, for he sinned but in one. the serpent had envy, he lied, and deceived, for these three he had three curses. because he had envy at the excellence of man, it was said to him: thou shalt go and creep on thy breast; because he lied he is punished in his mouth, when it was said: thou shalt eat earth all the days of thy life. also he took away his voice and put venom in his mouth. and because he deceived, it was said: i shall put enmity between thee and woman, and thy seed and her seed. she shall break thy head, etc. in two things the woman sinned, in pride and eating the fruit. because she sinned in pride, he meeked her, saying: thou shalt be under the power of man, and he shall have lordship over thee, and he shall put thee to affliction. now is she subject to a man by condition and dread, which before was but subject by love; and because she sinned in the fruit, she is punished in her fruit, when it was said to her: thou shalt bring forth children in sorrow; in the pain of sorrow standeth the curse, but in bringing forth of children is a blessing. and so, in punishing, god forgat not to have mercy. and because adam sinned but only in eating of the fruit, therefore he was punished in seeking his meat, as it is said to him: accursed be the earth in thy work, that is to say for thy work of thy sin, for which is made that the earth that brought forth good and wholesome fruits plenteously, from henceforth shall bring forth but seldom, and also none without man's labor, and also sometime weeds, briars, and thorns shall grow. and he added: thereto shalt thou eat herbs of the earth, as who saith thou shalt be like a beast or jument. he cursed the earth because the trespass was of the fruit of the earth and not of the water. he added thereto to him of labor: in the sweat of thy cheer [face] thou shalt eat thy bread unto the time thou return again into the earth; that is to say till thou die, for thou art earth, and into earth thou shalt go again. then adam, wailing and sorrowing the misery that was to come of his posterity, named his wife eve, which is to say, mother of all living folk. then god made to adam and eve two leathern coats of the skins of dead beasts, to the end that they bare with them the sign of mortality, and said: lo, adam is made as one of us, knowing good and evil, now lest he put his hand and take of the tree of life and live ever, as who saith: beware and cast him out, lest he take and eat of the tree of life. and so he was cast out of paradise, and set in the field of damascus where as he was made and taken from, for to work and labor there. and our lord set cherubim to keep paradise of delight with a burning sword and pliant, to the end that none should enter there ne come to the tree of life. after then that adam was cast out of paradise and set in the world, he engendered cain, the fifteenth year after he was made, and his sister calmana; but after another fifteen years was abel born, and his sister delbora. when adam was an hundred and thirty years of age, cain slew abel his brother. truth it is, after many days cain and abel offered sacrifice and gifts unto god. it is to be believed that adam taught his sons to offer to god their tithes and first fruits. cain offered fruits, for he was a ploughman and tiller of earth, and abel offered milk and the first of the lambs, moses saith, of the fattest of the flock. and god beheld the gifts of abel, for he and his sacrifices were acceptable to our lord; and as to cain his sacrifices, god beheld them not, for they were not to him acceptable, he offered withies and thorns. and as some doctors say, fire came from heaven and lighted the sacrifice of abel, and the gifts of cain pleased not our lord, for the sacrifice would not belight nor burn clear in the light of god. whereof cain had great envy unto his brother abel, which arose against him and slew him. and our lord said to him: where is abel thy brother? he answered and said: i wot never, am i keeper of my brother? then our lord said: what hast thou done? the voice of the blood of thy brother crieth to thee from the earth, wherefore thou art cursed, and accursed be the earth that received the blood of thy brother by his mouth of thy hands. when thou shalt work and labor the earth it shall bring forth no fruit, but thou shalt be fugitive, vagabond, and void on the earth. this cain deserved well to be cursed, knowing the pain of the first trespass of adam, yet he added thereto murder and slaughter of his brother. then cain, dreading that beasts should devour him, or if he went forth he should be slain of the men, or if he dwelt with them, they would slay him for his sin, damned himself, and in despair said: my wickedness is more than i can deserve to have forgiveness, whoso find me shall slay me. this he said of dread, or else wishing, as who said, would god he would slay me. then our lord said: nay not so, thou shalt die, but not soon, for whosoever slayeth cain shall be punished seven sithes more, for he should deliver him from dread, from labor and misery, and added that he should be punished personally sevenfold more. this punition shall endure to him in pain unto the seventh, lameth, whosomever shall slay cain shall loose seven vengeances. some hold that his pain endured unto the seventh generation, for he committed seven sins. he departed not truly, he had envy to his brother, he wrought guilefully, he slew his brother falsely, he denied it, he despaired and damned, he did no penance. and after he went into the east, fugitive and vagabond. cain knew his wife which bare enoch, and he made a city and named it enoch after the name of his son enoch. here it showeth well that this time were many men, though their generation be not said, whom cain called to his city, by whose help he made it, whom he induced to theft and robbery. he was the first that walled or made cities; dreading them that he hurted, for surety he brought his people into the towns. then enoch gat irad, and irad mehujael, and he gat methusael, and he gat lameth, which was the seventh from adam and worst, for he brought in first bigamy. this lameth took two wives, adah and zilla; of adah he gat jabal which found first the craft to make folds for shepherds and to change their pasture, and ordained flocks of sheep, and departed the sheep from the goats after the quality, the lambs by themselves, and the older by themselves, and understood the feeding of them after the season of the year. the name of his brother was jubal, father of singers in the harp and organs, not of the instruments, for they were found long after, but he was the finder of music, that is to say of consonants of accord, such as shepherds use in their delights and sports. and forasmuch as he heard adam prophesy of two judgments by the fire and water, that all things should be destroyed thereby, and that his craft new found should not perish, he did do write it in two pillars or columns, one of marble, another of clay of the earth, to the end that one should endure against the water, and that other against the fire. josephus saith that the pillar of marble is yet in the land of syria. of zilla he begat tubal-cain, which found first the craft of smithery and working of iron, and made things for war, and sculptures and gravings in metal to the pleasure of the eyes, which he so working, tubal, tofore said, had delight in the sound of his hammers, of which he made the consonants and tunes of accord in his song. noema, sister of tubal-cain, found first the craft of diverse texture. lameth was a shooter, and used to shoot at wild beasts, for none use of the meat of them, but only for to have the skins for their clothing, and lived so long that he was blind and had a child to lead him. and on a time by adventure he slew cain. for cain was always afeard and hid him among bushes and briars, and the child that led lameth had supposed it had been some wild beast and directed lameth to shoot thereat, and so, weening to shoot at a beast, slew cain. and when he knew that he had slain cain, he with his bow slew the child, and thus he slew them both to his damnation; therefore as the sin of cain was punished seven sithes, so was the sin of lameth seventy sithes and seven. that is to say, seventy-seven souls that came of lameth were perished in the deluge and noah's flood; also his wife did him much sorrow, and evil-entreated him. and he being wroth said that he suffered that for his double homicide and manslaughter, yet nevertheless he feared him by pain, saying: why will ye slay me? he shall be more and sorer punished that slayeth me, than he that slew cain. josephus said that when abel was slain and cain fled away, adam when he was one hundred and thirty years old engendered seth like to his similitude, and he to the image of god. this seth was a good man, and he gat enos, and enos cainan, and cainan begot malaleel, and malaleel jared, and jared enoch, and enoch methuselah, and methuselah lamech, and lamech noah. and like as in the generation of cain the seventh was the worst, so in the generation of seth the seventh was the best, that was enoch whom god took and brought him into paradise, unto the time that he shall come with elias for to convert the hearts of the fathers into the sons. and adam lived after he had begotten seth eight hundred years, and engendered sons and daughters. some hold opinion thirty sons and thirty daughters, and some fifty of that one and fifty of that other. we find no certainty of them in the bible. but all the days of adam living here in earth amount to the sum of nine hundred and thirty years. and in the end of his life when he should die, it is said, but of none authority, that he sent seth his son into paradise for to fetch the oil of mercy, where he received certain grains of the fruit of the tree of mercy by an angel. and when he came again he found his father adam yet alive and told him what he had done. and then adam laughed first and then died. and then he laid the grains or kernels under his father's tongue and buried him in the vale of hebron; and out of his mouth grew three trees of the three grains, of which trees the cross that our lord suffered his passion on was made, by virtue of which he gat very mercy, and was brought out of darkness into very light of heaven. to the which he bring us that liveth and reigneth god, world without end. here beginneth the history of noah _the first sunday in sexagesima_ after that adam was dead, died eve and was buried by him. at the beginning, in the first age, the people lived long. adam lived nine hundred and thirty years, and methuselah lived nine hundred and sixty-nine years. s. jerome saith that he died the same year that the flood was. then noah was the tenth from adam in the generation of seth, in whom the first age was ended. the seventy interpreters say that this first age dured two thousand two hundred and forty-four years. s. jerome saith not fully two thousand, and methodius full two thousand, etc. noah then was a man perfect and righteous and kept god's commandment. and when he was five hundred years old, he gat shem, ham, and japhet. this time men began to multiply on the earth, and the children of god, that is to say of seth, as religious, saw the daughters of men, that is to say of cain, and took them to their wives. this time was so much sin on the earth, wherefore god was displeased and determined in his prescience to destroy man that he had made, and said: i shall put man away that i have made, and my spirit shall not abide in man for ever, for he is flesh. as who said, i shall not punish man perpetually as i do the devil, for man is frail, and yet ere i shall destroy him i shall give him space and time of repentance and to amend him, if he will. the time of repentance shall be one hundred and twenty years. then noah, righteous and perfect, walked with god, that is in his laws, and the earth was corrupt by sin and filled. when god saw the earth to be corrupt, and that every man was corrupt by sin upon the earth, he said to noah: the end of all people is come tofore me except them that shall be saved, and the earth is replenished with their wickedness. i shall destroy them with the earth, id est [that is], with the fertility of the earth. make to thee an ark of tree, hewn, polished, and squared. and make there divers places, and lime it with clay and pitch within and without, that is to wit with glue which is so fervent, that the timber may not be loosed. and thou shalt make it three hundred cubits of length, fifty in breadth, and thirty of height. and make therein divers distinctions of places and chambers and of wardrobes. and the ark had a door for to enter in and come out, and a window was made thereon, which that the hebrews say was of crystal. this ark was on making, from the beginning that god commanded first to make it, one hundred and twenty years. in which time noah oft desired the people to leave their sin, and how he had spoken with god, and that he was commanded to make the ship, for god should destroy them for their sin, but if they left it. and they mocked him and said that he raved and was a fool, and gave no faith to his saying and continued in their sin and wickedness. then, when the ark was perfectly made, god bade him to take into it of all the beasts of the earth, and also of the fowls of the air, of each two, male and female, that they may live. and also of all the meats of the earth that be comestible, that they may serve and feed thee and them. and noah did all that our lord commanded him. then said our lord to noah: enter thou and all thy household into the ark, that is to say thou and thy wife and thy three sons and their three wives. i have seen that thou art rightful in this generation. of all beasts that be clean thou shalt take seven, and of unclean beasts but only two. and of the birds seven and seven, male and female, that they may be saved on the face of the earth. yet after seven days i shall rain upon the earth forty days and forty nights, and shall destroy all the substance that i made on the earth. and noah did all things that our lord commanded him. he was six hundred years old when the flood began on the earth. and then noah entered in and his sons, his wife, and the wives of his sons, all into the ark to eschew the waters of the flood. of all the beasts and the fowls, and of all that moved and had life on earth, male and female, noah took in to him as our lord had bidden. and seven days after they were entered, the water began to increase. the wells of the abysms were broken, and the cataracts of heaven were opened, that is to say the clouds, and it rained on the earth forty days and forty nights. and the ark was elevate and borne upon the waters on height above the mountains and hills, for the water was grown higher fifteen cubits above all the mountains, that it should purge and wash the filth of the air. then was consumed all that was on the earth living, man, woman, and beast and birds. and all that ever bare life, so that nothing abode upon the earth, for the water was fifteen cubits above the highest mountain of the earth. and when noah was entered he shut the door fast without forth, and limed it with glue. and so the waters abode elevate in height an hundred and fifty days from the day that noah entered in. and our lord then remembered noah and all them that were in the ark with him, and also on the beasts and fowls, and ceased the waters. and the wells and cataracts were closed, and the rains were prohibited, and forbidden to rain no more. the seventh month, the twenty-seventh day of the month, the ark rested on the hills of armenia. the tenth month, of the first day of the month, the tops of the hills appeared first. after these forty days after the lessing of the waters, noah opened the window and desired sore to have tidings of ceasing of the flood. and sent out a raven for to have tidings, and when he was gone he returned no more again, for peradventure she found some dead carrion of a beast swimming on the water, and lighted thereon to feed her and was left there. after this he sent out a dove which flew out, and when she could find no place to rest ne set her foot on, she returned unto noah and he took her in. yet then were not the tops of the hills bare. and seven days after he sent her out again, which at even returned, bearing a branch of an olive tree, burgeoning, in her mouth. and after other seven days he sent her again, which came no more again. then in the year of noah six hundred and one, the first day of the month, noah opened the covering of the ark and saw that the earth was dry, but he durst not go out, but abode the commandment of our lord. the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the month, our lord said to noah: go out of the ark, thou and thy wife, thy sons and the wives of thy sons. he commanded them to go conjointly out which disjointly entered, and let go out with them all the beasts and fowls living, and all the reptiles, every each after his kind and gender, to whom our lord said: grow ye and multiply upon the earth. then noah issued out and his wife, and his sons with their wives, and all the beasts, the same day a year after they entered in, every one after his gender. noah then edified an altar to our lord and took of all the beasts that were clean and offered sacrifice unto our lord; and our lord smelled the sweetness of the sacrifice and said to noah: from henceforth i shall not curse the earth for man, for he is prone and ready to fall from the beginning of his youth. i shall no more destroy man by such vengeance. and then our lord blessed them and said: grow ye and multiply the earth and be ye lords of all the beasts of the earth, of the fowls of the air, and of the fishes. i have given all things to you, but eat no flesh with the blood. i command you to slay no man, nor to shed no man's blood. i have made man after mine image. whosomever sheddeth his brother's blood, his blood shall be shed. go ye forth and grow and multiply and fill the earth. this said our lord to noah and his sons: lo! i have made a covenant with you and with them that shall come after you, that i shall no more bring such a flood to slay all people, and in token thereof i have set my rainbow in the clouds of heaven, for who that trespasseth i shall do justice otherwise on him. noah lived after the flood three hundred and fifty years. from the time of adam until after noah's flood, the time and season was alway green and tempered; and all that time men ate no flesh, for the herbs and fruits were then of great strength and effect, they were pure and nourishing. but after the flood the earth was weaker and brought not forth so good fruit, wherefore flesh was ordained to be eaten. and then noah began to labor for his livelihood with his sons, and began to till the earth, to destroy briars and thorns and to plant vines. and so on a time noah had drunk so much of the wine that he was drunk, and lay and slept. ham, his middlest son, laughed and scorned his father, and called his brethren to see, which rebuked ham of his folly and sin. and noah awoke, and when he understood how ham his son had scorned him, he cursed him and also his son canaan, and blessed shem and japhet. all the days of noah were nine hundred and fifty years and then he died. and after his death his sons dealed all the world between them, shem had all asia, ham africa, and japhet all europe. thus was it departed. asia is the best part and is as much as the other two, and that is in the east. africa is the south part, and therein is carthage and many rich countries, therein be blue and black men. ham had that to his part africa. the third part is europe which is in the north and west, therein is greece, rome, and germany. in europe reigneth now most the christian law and faith, wherein is many a rich realm. and so was the world departed to the three sons of noah. the rainbow triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky when storms prepare to part, i ask not proud philosophy to teach me what thou art. still seem, as to my childhood's sight, a midway station given, for happy spirits to alight, betwixt the earth and heaven. can all that optics teach, unfold thy form to please me so, as when i dreamt of gems and gold hid in thy radiant bow? when science from creation's face enchantment's veil withdraws, what lovely visions yield their place to cold material laws! and yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, but words of the most high, have told why first thy robe of beams was woven in the sky. when o'er the green undeluged earth heaven's covenant thou didst shine, how came the world's gray fathers forth to watch thy sacred sign! and when its yellow lustre smiled o'er mountains yet untrod, each mother held aloft her child to bless the bow of god. the earth to thee her incense yields, the lark thy welcome sings, when, glittering in the freshen'd fields, the snowy mushroom springs. how glorious is thy girdle, cast o'er mountain, tower, and town, or mirror'd in the ocean vast a thousand fathoms down! as fresh in yon horizon dark, as young thy beauties seem, as when the eagle from the ark first sported in thy beam. for, faithful to its sacred page, heaven still rebuilds thy span; nor lets the type grow pale with age that first spoke peace to man. t. campbell. here followeth the life of abraham the sunday called quinquagesima is read in the church the history of the holy patriarch abraham which was the son of terah. this terah was the tenth from noah in the generation of shem. japhet had seven sons and ham four sons. out of the generation of ham nimrod came, which was a wicked man and cursed in his works, and began to make the tower of babel which was great and high. and at the making of this tower, god changed the languages, in such wise that no man understood other. for tofore the building of that tower was but one manner speech in all the world, and there were made seventy-two speeches. the tower was great, it was ten miles about and five thousand and eighty-four steps of height. this nimrod was the first man that found mawmetry and idolatry, which endured long and yet doth. then i turn again to terah which had three sons, which was abram, nahor, and haran. of nahor came us, bus, and batuel. of us came job, of bus came balaam, and of batuel rebekah and laban. of haran came lot and two daughters, melcha and sara. now i shall speak of abram of whom our blessed lady came. he wedded sara, daughter of his brother haran. abram was ever faithful and true, he was sixty-five years old when his father died, for whom he mourned till our lord comforted him, which said to abram: abram, make thee ready and go out of thy land and kindred, and also from the house of thy father, and come into the land that i shall show to thee. i shall make thee grow into much people; i shall bless thee and magnify thy name, and thou shalt be blessed, and i shall bless them that bless thee, and curse them that curse thee, and in thee shall be blessed all the kindreds of the earth. abram was seventy years old when he departed from the land of haran, and he took with him sara his wife, and lot the son of his brother, and their meiny [company], and his cattle and his substance, and came into the land of canaan, and came into the vale of sichem, in which were ill people which were the people of canaan. and our lord said to abram: i shall give to thee this land and to thine heirs. then abram did raise an altar on which he did sacrifice, and blessed and thanked our lord. abram beheld all the land toward the south, and saw the beauty thereof, and found it like as our lord told him. but he had not been long in the land but that there fell great hunger therein, wherefore he left that country and went into egypt and took with him sara his wife. and as they went by the way abram said to his wife: i fear and dread sore that when we come to this people, which be lawless, that they shall take thee for thy beauty and slay me, because they would use thee. wherefore say thou art my sister, and i thy brother, and she agreed thereto. and when they were come in to that country the people saw that she was so fair, and anon they told the king, which anon commanded that she should be brought into his presence. and when she was come, god of his good grace so purveyed for her, that no man had power to do her villany. wherefore the king was feared that god would have taken vengeance on him for her, and sent for abram and said to him that he should take his wife, and that he had evil done to say, that she was his sister, and so delivered her again, and gave him gold and silver, and bade that men should worship him in all his land, and he should freely at his pleasure depart with all his goods. then after this abram took his wife sara and went home again, and came unto bethel, and set there an altar of stone, and there he adored and worshipped the name of god. his store and beasts began to multiply, and lot with his meiny was also there. and their beasts began so sore to increase and multiply, that unnethe [hardly] the country might suffice to their pasture, in so much that rumor and grudging began to sourde and arise between the herdmen of abram and the herdmen of lot. then abram said to lot: lo! this country is great and wide, i pray thee to choose on which hand thou wilt go, and take it for thy meiny and thy beasts. and let no strife be between me and thee, ne between my herdmen ne thy herdmen. lo! behold all the country is tofore thee, take which thou wilt; if thou go on the right side, i shall go on the left side, and if thou take the left, i will go on the right side. then lot beheld the country and saw a fair plain toward flom jordan, which was pleasant, and the flood ran toward sodom and gomorrah, which was like a paradise, and took that part for him. and abram took toward the west, which was beside the people of canaan at the foot of mount mamre. and lot dwelled in sodom. the people of sodom were worst of all people. our lord said to abram: lift up thine eyes and see directly from the place that thou art now in, from the north to the south, and from the east to the west. all this land that thou seest i shall give thee, and to thy seed for evermore. i shall make thy seed as powder or dust of the earth, who that may number the dust of the earth shall number thy seed. arise therefore and walk the land in length and in breadth, for i shall give it to thee. abram moved then his tabernacle and dwelled in the valley of mamre, which is in hebron, and set there his tabernacle. it happened soon after that there was a war in that land, that four kings warred again other five kings, which were of sodom, gomorrah and other. and the four kings overthrew the five and slew them, and spoiled and took all the substance of the country and took also with them lot and all his goods. and a man gat away from them and came to abram, and told him how that lot was taken and led away. and then anon abram did do gather his people together, the number of three hundred and eighteen. and followed after, and departed his people in two parties because they should not escape. and abram smote in among them, and slew the kings, and rescued lot and all his goods, and delivered the men of sodom that were taken and the women. and they of sodom came against him, and melchisedech came and met with him, and offered to him bread and wine. this melchisedech was king and priest of jerusalem and all the country, and blessed abram. and there abram gave to him the tythes of all he had. and the king of sodom would that abram should have had such prey as he took, but he would not have as much as the latchet of a shoe, and thus gat abram much love of all the people. after this our lord appeared to abram in a vision and said: abram, dread thee nothing, i am thy protector, and thy reward and meed shall be great. abram answered: lord god, what wilt thou give me? thou wottest well i have no children, and sith i have none i will well that eleazar the son of my bailiff be my heir. nay, said our lord, he shall not be thine heir, but he that shall issue and come of thy seed shall be thine heir. our lord led him out and bade him behold the heaven, and number the stars if thou mayst, and said to him, so shall thy offspringing and seed be. and abram believed it and gave faith to our lord's words, and it was reputed to him to justice. and our lord said to him, i am the lord that led thee out of the land of ur of the chaldees for to give to thee this land into thy possession. and abram said: lord, how shall i know that i shall possess it? a voice said to abram: thy seed shall be exiled into egypt by the space of four hundred years, and shall be there in servitude, and after, i shall bring them hither again in the fourth generation. thou shalt abide here unto thy good age, and shalt be buried here, and go with thy fathers in peace. sara was yet without child, and she had a handmaid named hagar, an egyptian, and she on a day said to abram her husband: thou seest i may bear no child, wherefore i would thou took hagar my maid, that thou might get a child which i might keep and hold for mine. and ten year after that abram had dwelled in that land, he took hagar, and anon she despised her mistress. then sara said to abram: thou dost evil. my servant now hath me in despite, god judge this between thee and me. to whom abram answered: thine handmaid is in thine hands, chastise her as it pleaseth thee. after this sara chastised hagar and put her to so great affliction that she went away; and as she went an angel met with her in the wilderness by a well, and said: hagar, whence comest and whither goest thou? she answered: i flee away from the face of my lady sara. to whom the angel said, return again and submit thee by humbleness unto thy lady, and i shall multiply thy seed, and so much people shall come of it that it cannot be numbered for multitude. and he said furthermore: thou shalt bear a child and shalt call him ishmael. he shall be a fierce man, he shall be against all men, and all men against him. then hagar returned home and served her lady, and soon after this she was delivered of ishmael. abram was eighty-six years old when ishmael was born. when abram was ninety-nine years, our lord appeared to him and said: abram, lo! i am the lord almighty, walk thou before me and be perfect, and i shall keep covenant between me and thee and shall multiply thy seed greatly. and abram fell down lowting low to the earth and thanked him. then our lord said i am, and my covenant i shall keep to thee, thou shalt be father of much people. thou shalt no more be called abram, but abraham, for i have ordained thee father of much people. i shall make thee to increase most abundantly; kings and princes shall come of thee, and shall stablish my covenant between me and thee, and thy seed in thy generations. i shall give to thee and to thy seed after thee the land of thy pilgrimage, all the land of canaan, into their possession and i shall be their god. yet said god to abraham: and thou shalt keep thy covenant to me, and thine heirs after thee in their generations, and this shall be the covenant that ye shall keep and thine heirs after thee. every child masculine that shall be born shall be circumcised when he is eight days old. and see that the men in your generation be circumcised, begin at thyself and thy children. and all that dwell in thy kindred, who of you that shall not be circumcised shall be cast and put out for ever from my people, because he obeyeth not my statute and ordinance. and thy wife sara shall be called no more sara but she shall be called sarah, and i shall bless her, and shall give to thee a son of her, whom i shall bless also. i shall him increase into nations, and kings of peoples shall come of him. abraham fell down on his face toward the earth and laughed in his heart, saying: may it be that a woman of ninety years may bear a child? i beseech thee, lord, that ishmael may live before thee. our lord said to abraham, sarah shall bring forth a son whom thou shalt name isaac, and i shall keep my covenant to him for evermore, and to his heirs after him. and i have heard thy request for ishmael also. i shall bless him and increase, and shall multiply his seed into much people, twelve dukes shall come of him. i shall keep my covenant to isaac, whom sarah shall bring forth the next year. after this on a time, as abraham sat beside his house in the vale of mamre in the heat of the day, and as he lift up his eyes, he saw three young men coming to him, and anon as he saw these three standing by him he ran to them and worshipped one alone; he saw three and worshipped but one. that betokeneth the trinity, and prayed them to be harboured with him, and took water and washed their feet: and prayed them to tarry under the tree, and he would bring bread to them for to comfort them. and they bade him do as he had said, he went and bade sarah to make three ashy cakes and sent his child for a tender fat calf, which was sodden and boiled. and he served them with butter and milk, and the calf, and set it tofore them. he stood by them, and when they had eaten they demanded him: where is sarah thy wife? and he said: yonder in the tabernacle. and he said, i shall go and come again, and sarah thy wife shall have a child. and she stood behind the door and heard it and laughed, and said softly to herself: how may it be that i should bear a child? she thought it impossible. then said our lord to abraham: why laugheth sarah thy wife, saying in scorn, shall i bear a child? but as i said to thee before, i shall return and come again, and she shall have a child in that time. and he asked sarah why she smiled in scorn, and she said she smiled ne laughed not, and our lord said, it is not so, for thou laughedst. when they had rested abraham conveyed them on the way. and our lord said to abraham: i have not hid from thee what i purpose to do. the cry of sodom and gomorrah is multiplied and their sin is much grievous. i shall descend and see if the sin be so great, the stench thereof cometh to heaven, i shall take vengeance and destroy them. then abraham said: i hope, lord, thou wilt not destroy the just and righteous man with the wicked sinner. i beseech thee, lord, to spare them. our lord said: if there be fifty good and righteous men among them, i shall spare them. and abraham said: good lord, if there be found forty, i pray thee to spare them. our lord said: if there be forty, i shall spare them, and so from forty to thirty and from thirty to twenty and from twenty to ten, and our lord said: if there be found ten good men among them, i shall not destroy them. and then our lord went from abraham, and he returned home again. that same eventide came two angels into sodom, and lot sat at his gate, and when he saw them he went and worshipped them and prayed them to come and rest in his house, and abide there and wash their feet. and they said: nay, we shall abide here in the street, and lot constrained them and brought them into his house and made a feast to them. then said the angels to lot: if thou have here of thy kindred, sons or daughters, all them that long to thee, lead out of this city, we shall destroy this place, for the cry thereof is come to our lord, which hath sent us for to destroy them. lot went unto his kinsmen and said: arise and take your children, and go out of this city, for our lord shall destroy it. and they supposed that he had raved or japed [jested]. and as soon as it was day the angels said to lot: arise, and take thy wife and thy two daughters, and go out of this town lest ye perish with them. yet he dissimuling, they took him by the hand and his wife and two daughters, because that god should spare them, and led them out of the city. and there they said to him: save thy soul and look not behind thee lest thou perish also, but save thee in the mountain. lot said to them: i beseech thee, my lord, forasmuch as thy servant hath found grace before thee, and that thou hast showed thy mercy to me, and that peradventure i might take harm on the hill, that i may go into the little city hereby and may be saved there. he said to lot: i have heard thy prayers, and for thy sake i shall not subvert this town for which thou hast prayed, hie thee and save thyself there, for i may do nothing till thou be therein. therefore that town is called zoar. so lot went in to zoar; and the sun arose, and our lord rained from heaven upon sodom and gomorrah sulphur and fire, and subverted the cities and all the dwellers of the towns about that region, and all that was there growing and burgeoning. lot's wife turned her and looked toward the cities, and anon she was turned into a statue or image of salt, which abideth so unto this day. abraham arose in the morning early, and looked toward the cities, and saw the smoke ascending from the places, like as it had been the light of a furnace. what time our lord subverted these cities he remembered abraham, and delivered lot from the vengeance of the cities in which he dwelled. then lot ascended from zoar and dwelled in the mountain, and his two daughters with him. he dreaded to abide any longer in the town, but dwelled in a cave, he and his two daughters with him. abraham departed from thence and went southward and dwelled between kadesh and shur, and went a pilgrimage to gerar. he said that his wife was his sister. abimelech the king of gerar sent for her and took her. god came to abimelech in his sleep and said: thou shalt be dead for the woman that thou hast taken, she hath an husband. abimelech said: lord, wilt thou slay a man ignorant and rightful? she said that she was his sister, in the simpleness of my heart and cleanness of my hands i did this. and god said to him: i know well that with a simple heart thou didst it, and therefore i have kept thee from her, now yield the woman to her husband, and he shall pray for thee, he is a prophet and thou shalt live. and if thou deliver her not, thou shalt die, and all they that be in thy house. abimelech arose up the same night and called all his servants, and told them all these words. all they dreaded sore. also abimelech called abraham and said to him: what hast thou done to us, that we have trespassed to thee? thou hast caused me and my realm to sin greatly. thou hast done that thou shouldst not have done. what sawest thou for to do so? abraham said: i thought that the dread of god was not in this place, and that ye would slay me for my wife; and certainly otherwise she is also my sister, the daughter of my father but not of my mother, and i have wedded her. and after that i went from the house of my father, i said to her: wheresomever we go say thou art my sister. then abimelech took sheep and oxen and servants and maidens, and gave to abraham, and delivered to him sarah his wife, and said: lo! the land is here tofore thee, wheresoever thou wilt, dwell and abide. and he said to sarah: lo! i have given to thy brother a thousand pieces of silver, this shall be to thee a veil of thine eyes, and wheresomever thou go, remember that thou wert taken. abraham prayed for abimelech and his meiny [company] and god healed him, his wife and all his servants. our lord then visited sarah, and she brought forth a son in her old age, that same time that god had promised. abraham called his son that she had borne, isaac, and when he was eight days old he circumcised him as god had commanded, and abraham was then an hundred years old. then said sarah: who would have supposed that i should give suck to my child, being so old? i laughed when i heard our lord say so, and all they that shall hear of it may well laugh. the child grew and was weaned, and abraham made a great feast at the day of his weaning. after this, on a day when sarah saw the son of hagar her handmaid play with her son isaac, she said to abraham: cast out this handmaid with her son, the son of the handmaid shall not be heir with my son isaac. abraham took this word hard and grievously for his son. then said god to him: let it not be hard to thee for thy son and handmaid, whatsomever sarah say to thee hear her voice, for in isaac shall thy seed be called. yet shall i make the son of the handmaid grow into great people, for he is of thy seed. abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a bottle of water, and laid it on her shoulder, and gave to her the child and let her go, which, when she was departed, erred in the wilderness of beersheba. and when the water was consumed that was in the bottle, she left the child under a tree that was there and went thence as far as a bow shot and sat her down, and said: i shall not see my son die, and there she wept. our lord heard the voice of the child, and an angel called hagar saying, what doest thou, hagar? be not afeard, our lord hath heard the voice of the child from the place which he is now in. arise and take the child and hold him by the hand, for i shall make him to increase into much people. god opened her eyes and she saw a pit of water, and anon she went and filled the bottle, and gave the child to drink, and abode with him, which grew and dwelled in the wilderness, and became there a young man and an archer, and dwelled also in the desert of paran. and his mother took to him a wife of the land of egypt. that same time said abimelech, and phicol the prince of his host, unto abraham: our lord is with thee in all things that thou doest. swear thou by the lord that thou grieve not me, ne them that shall come after me, ne my kindred, but after the mercy that i have showed to thee, so do to me and to my land in which thou hast dwelled as a stranger. and abraham said, i shall swear. and he blamed abimelech for the pit of water which his servants had taken away by strength. abimelech answered: i know not who hath done this thing, and thou toldest me not thereof, and i never heard thereof till this day. and then after this they made covenant together, and promised each to other to be friends together. after all these things god tempted abraham, and said to him: abraham, abraham. he answered and said: i am here, and he said to him: take thou thine only son that thou lovest, isaac, and go into the land of vision and offer him in sacrifice to me upon one of the hills that i shall show to thee. then abraham arose in the night, and made ready his ass, and took with him two young men and isaac his son. and when they had hewn and gathered the wood together to make sacrifice, they went to the place that god commanded him. the third day after, he lift up his eyes and saw from afar the place, and he said to his children: abide ye here with the ass, i and my son shall go to yonder place, and when we have worshipped there we shall return to you. then he took the wood of the sacrifice and laid it on his son isaac, and he bare in his hands fire and the sword. and as they went both together, isaac said to his father: father mine. what wilt thou, my son? said abraham, and he said: lo! here is fire and wood, where is the sacrifice that shall be offered? abraham answered: my son, god shall provide for him a sacrifice well enough. they went forth and came to the place that god had ordained, and there made an altar, and laid the wood thereon, and took isaac and set him on the wood on the altar, and took his sword and would have offered him up to god. and lo! the angel of god cried to him from heaven saying: abraham, abraham, which answered: i am here, and he said to him: extend not thy hand upon my child, and do nothing to him, now i know that thou dreadest god, and hast not spared thine only son for me. abraham looked behind him, and saw among the briars a ram fast by the horns, which he took, and offered him in sacrifice for his son. he called that place: the lord seeth. the angel called abraham the second time saying: i have sworn by myself, saith the lord, because thou hast done this thing, and hast not spared thine only son for me, i shall bless thee and shall multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and like the gravel that is on the seaside, thy seed shall possess the gates of their enemies, and in thy seed shall be blessed all the people of the earth, for thou obeyedst to me. abraham then returned to his servants, and went into beersheba and dwelled there. sarah lived an hundred and twenty-seven years and died in the city of arba, which is hebron in the land of canaan; for whom abraham made sorrow and wept, and bought of the children of heth a field, and buried her worshipfully in a double spelunke. abraham was an old man, and god blessed him in all his things. he said to the eldest and upperest servant in all his house: i charge and conjure thee by the name of god of heaven and of earth that thou suffer not my son isaac to take no wife of the daughters of canaan amongst whom i dwell, but go into the country where my kindred is, and take of them a wife to my son. and the servant answered: if no woman there will come with me into this country, shall i bring thy son into that country from whence thou earnest? abraham said: beware that thou lead not my son thither. the lord of heaven and of earth, that took me from the house of my father and from the place of my nativity, hath said and sworn to me, saying: to thy seed i shall give this land. he shall send his angel tofore thee, and thou shalt take there a wife for my son. if no woman will come with thee thou shalt not be bounden by thine oath, but in no wise lead my son thither. his servant then swore and promised to him that he would so do. he took ten camels of the flock of his lord, and of all his goods bare with him, and went in to mesopotamia unto the town of nahor. and he made the camels to tarry without the town by a pit side at such time as the women be wont to come out for to draw water. and there he prayed our lord, saying: lord god of my lord abraham, i beseech thee to help me this day, and do mercy unto my lord abraham. lo! i stand here nigh by the well of water, and the daughters of the dwellers of this town come hither for to draw water, therefore the maid to whom i say: set down thy pot that i may drink, and then she set down her pot and say: i will give to thee drink, and to the camels, that i may understand thereby that she be the maid that thou hast ordained to thy servant isaac, and thou showest thy mercy to my lord abraham. he had not fully finished these words with himself, but that rebekah, daughter of bethuel, son of milcah wife of nahor, brother of abraham, came out of the town, having a pot on her shoulder, which was a right fair maid, and much beauteous and unknown to the man. she went down to the well and filled her pot with water and returned. the servant of abraham ran to her and said: i pray thee to give me a little of the water in thy pot for to drink. which said: drink, my lord, and lightly took the pot from her shoulder, and held it, and gave him drink. and when he had drunk she said: yet i shall give to thy camels drink, and draw water for them till all have drunken; and she poured out the water into a vessel that was there for beasts to drink, and ran to the pit and drew water that every one drank his draught. he then thought in himself secretly that god had made him to have a prosperous journey. after they had drunk, he gave her two rings to hang on her ears weighing two shekels, and as many armlets weighing ten shekels, and asked her whose daughter she was, and if there were any room in her father's house to be lodged. and she answered: i am daughter to bethuel, nahor's son, and in my father's house is place enough to lodge thee and thy camels, and plenty of chaff and hay for them. and the man inclined down to the ground and worshipped god saying: blessed be the lord god of my lord abraham, which hath not taken away his mercy ne his truth from my lord, and hath brought me in my journey right into the house of my lord's brother. the maid rebekah ran and told at home all that she had heard. rebekah had a brother named laban, which hastily went out to the man where as he was when he had seen the rings in his sister's ears and her poinettes or armlets on her hands; and had heard her say all that the man said. he came to the man that stood by the well yet, and said to him: come in, thou blessed of god, why standest thou without? i have made ready the house for thee, and have ordained place for thy camels. and brought him in, and strawed his camels, and gave them chaff and hay, and water to wash the camels' feet, and the men's feet that came with him. and they set forth bread tofore him, which said: i shall not eat till i have done mine errand and said wherefore i am come. and it was answered to him, say on, and he said: i am servant of abraham, and god hath blessed and magnified him greatly and hath given to him oxen and sheep, silver and gold, servants men and women, camels and asses. and sarah his wife hath brought him forth a son in her old age, and he hath given to him all that he had. and my lord hath charged and adjured me saying: in no wise let my son isaac have no wife of the daughters of canaan in whose land he dwelleth, but go unto the house of my father and of my kindred, and of them thou shall take a wife to my son, wherefore i am come hither. and told all how he prayed god of some token, and how rebekah did to him, and in conclusion desired to have rebekah for his lord isaac; and if he would not, that he might depart and go into some other place, on the right side or on the left, to seek a wife for his lord's son. then bethuel and laban said to him: this word is come of god, against his will we may nothing do. lo! rebekah standeth tofore thee, take her and go forth that she may be wife unto the son of thy lord, as our lord hath said. which words when abraham's servant had heard, he fell down to the ground and thanked our lord, and anon took forth silver vessels and of gold and good clothes and gave them to rebekah for a gift. and to her brethren and mother he gave also gifts, and anon they made a feast, and ate and were joyful together. on the morn betimes, the servant of abraham arose, and desired to depart and take rebekah with him and go to his lord. then the mother and her brethren said: let the maid abide with us but only ten days, and then take her and go thy way. i pray you, said he, retain ne let [hinder] me not, our lord hath addressed my way and achieved my errand, wherefore let me go to my lord. and they said: we shall call the maid and know her will; and when she was demanded if she would go with that man, she said: yea, i shall go with him. then they let her go, and her nurse with her, and so she departed, and they said to her: thou art our sister, we pray god that thou mayst increase into a thousand thousand, and that thy seed may possess the gates of their enemies. then rebekah and her maidens ascended upon the camels, and followed the servant of abraham which hastily returned unto his lord. that same time, when they were come, isaac walked by the way without forth and looked up and saw the camels coming from far. rebekah espied him and demanded of the servant who that he was that came in the field against them. he answered and said: that is my lord isaac, and anon she took her pall or mantle and covered her. the servant anon told unto his lord isaac all that he had done; which received her and led her into the tabernacle of sarah his mother and wedded her, and took her in to his wife, and so much loved her, that the love attempered the sorrow that he had for his mother. abraham after this wedded another wife, by whom he had divers children. abraham gave to isaac all his possessions, and to his other children he gave movable goods, and departed the sons of his concubines from his son isaac whilst he yet lived. and all the days of the life of abraham were one hundred and seventy-five years, and then died in good mind and age, and isaac and ishmael buried him by his wife sarah in a double spelunke [cave]. here beginneth the life of isaac with the history of esau and of jacob _which is read in the church the second sunday in lent_ isaac was forty years old when he wedded rebekah and she bare him no children. wherefore he besought our lord that she might bring forth fruit. our lord heard his prayer, and she had twain sons at once. the first was rough from the head to the foot, and he was named esau; and the other was named jacob. isaac the father was sixty years old when these children were born. and after this, when they were grown to reasonable age, esau became a ploughman, and a tiller of the earth, and an hunter. and jacob was simple and dwelled at home with his mother. isaac the father loved well esau, because he ate oft of the venison that esau took, and rebekah the mother loved jacob. jacob on a time had made a good pottage, and esau his brother had been an hunting all day and came home sore an hungred, and found jacob having good pottage, and prayed him to give him some, for he was weary and much hungry. to whom jacob said: if thou wilt sell to me thy patrimony and heritage i shall give thee some pottage. and esau answered, lo! i die for hunger, what shall avail me mine inheritance if i die, and what shall profit me my patrimony? i am content that thou take it for this pottage. jacob then said: swear that to me thou shalt never claim it, and that thou art content i shall enjoy it, and esau sware it, and so sold away his patrimony, and took the pottage and ate it, and went his way, setting nothing thereby that he had sold his patrimony. this aforesaid is to bring in my matter of the history that is read, for now followeth the legend as it is read in the church. isaac began to wax old and his eyes failed and dimmed that he might not clearly see. and on a time he called esau his oldest son and said to him: son mine, which answered: father, i am here ready, to whom the father said: behold that i wax old and know not the day that i shall die and depart out of this world, wherefore take thine harness, thy bow and quiver with tackles, and go forth an hunting, and when thou hast taken any venison, make to me thereof such manner meat as thou knowest that i am wont to eat, and bring it to me that i may eat it, and that my soul may bless thee ere i die. which all these words rebekah heard. and esau went forth for to accomplish the commandment of his father, and she said then to jacob: i have heard thy father say to esau, thy brother: bring to me of thy venison, and make thereof meat that i may eat, and that i may bless thee tofore our lord ere i die. now my son, take heed to my counsel, and go forth to the flock, and bring to me two the best kids that thou canst find, and i shall make of them meat such as thy father shall gladly eat, which when thou hast brought to him and hast eaten he may bless thee ere he die: to whom jacob answered: knowest thou not that my brother is rough and hairy and i am smooth? if my father take me to him and taste me and feel, i dread me that he shall think that i mock him, and shall give me his curse for the blessing. the mother then said to him: in me, said she, be this curse, my son, nevertheless hear me; go to the flock and do that i have said to thee. he went and fetched the kids and delivered them to his mother, and she went and ordained them into such meat as she knew well that his father loved, and took the best clothes that esau had, and did them on jacob. and the skins of the kid she did about his neck and hands there as he was bare, and delivered to him bread and the pulment that she had boiled. and he went to his father and said: father mine, and he answered: i am here; who art thou, my son? jacob said: i am esau, thy first begotten son, i have done as thou commandedst me, arise, sit and eat of the venison of my hunting that thy soul may bless me. then said isaac again to his son: how mightest thou, said he, so soon find and take it, my son? to whom he answered: it was the will of god that such thing as i desired came soon to my hand. isaac said to him: come hither to me, my son, that i may touch and handle thee, that i may prove whether thou be my son esau or not. he came to his father, and when he had felt him, isaac said: the voice truly is the voice of jacob, but the hands be the hands of esau. and he knew him not, for his hands expressed the likeness and similitude of the more brother. therefore blessing him, he said to him: thou art then my son esau? he answered and said: i am he. then said isaac: bring to the meat of thine hunting, my son, that my soul may bless thee; which he offered and gave to his father, and also wine. and when he had eaten and drunken a good draught of the wine, he said to jacob: come hither to me, my son, and kiss me; and he went to him and kissed him. anon as he felt the sweet savour and smell of his clothes, blessing him he said: lo! the sweet odour of my son is as the odour of a field full of flowers, whom our lord bless. god give to thee of the dew of heaven, and of the fatness of the earth, abundance of wheat, wine, and oil, and the people serve thee, and the tribes worship thee. be thou lord of thy brethren, and the sons of thy mother shall bow down and kneel to thee. whosomever curseth thee, be he accursed, and who that blesseth thee, with blessings be he fulfilled. unnethe [hardly] had isaac fulfilled these words and jacob gone out, when that esau came with his meat that he had gotten with hunting, entered in, and offered to his father saying: arise, father mine, and eat of the venison that thy son hath ordained for thee, that thy soul may bless me. isaac said to him: who art thou? to whom he answered, i am thy first begotten son esau. isaac then was greatly abashed and astonied, and marvelled more than can be thought credible. and then he was in a trance, as the master of histories saith, in which he had knowledge that god would that jacob should have the blessing. and said to esau: who then was he that right now a little tofore thy coming brought to me venison? and i have eaten of all that he brought to me ere thou camest. i have blessed him, and he shall be blessed. when esau heard these words of his father, he cried with a great cry, and was sore astonied and said: father, i pray thee bless me also. to whom he said: thy brother germain is come fraudulently, and hath received thy blessing. then said esau: certainly and justly may his name be called well jacob, for on another time tofore this he supplanted me of my patrimony, and now secondly he hath undernome from me my blessing. and yet then he said to his father: hast thou not reserved to me one blessing? isaac answered: i have ordained him to be thy lord, i have subdued all his brethren to his servitude. i have stablished him in wheat, wine and oil. and after this what shall i do to thee, my son? to whom esau said: hast thou not, father, yet one blessing? i beseech thee to bless me. then with a great sighing and weeping isaac moved said to him: in the fatness of the earth and in the dew of heaven shall be thy blessing, thou shalt live in thy sword, and shalt serve thy brother. then was esau woebegone, and hated jacob for supplanting him of his blessing that his father had blessed him with, and said in his heart: the days of sorrow shall come to my father, for i shall slay my brother jacob. this was told to rebekah, which anon sent for jacob her son, and said to him: lo! esau thy brother threateneth to slay thee, therefore now my son hear my voice and do as i shall counsel. make thee ready and go to my brother in aran, and dwell there with him unto the time that his anger and fury be overpast, and his indignation ceased, and that he forget such things that thou hast done to him, and then after that i shall send for thee, and bring thee hither again. and rebekah went to isaac her husband and said: i am weary of my life because of the daughters of heth, if jacob take to him a wife of that kindred, i will no longer live. isaac then called jacob and blessed him and commanded to him saying: i charge thee in no wise to take a wife of the kindred of canaan, but go and walk into mesopotamia of syria, unto the house of bethuel, father of thy mother, and take to thee there a wife of the daughters of laban thine uncle. god almighty bless thee, and make thee grow and multiply, that thou mayst be increased into tourbes of people, and give to thee the blessings of abraham, and to thy seed after thee, that thou mayst possess and own the land of thy pilgrimage which he granted to thy grandsire. when isaac had thus said, and given him leave to go, he departed anon, and went into mesopotamia of syria to laban, son of bethuel, brother of rebekah his mother. esau seeing that his father had blessed jacob and sent him into mesopotamia of syria to wed a wife there, and that after his blessing commanded to him saying: take thou no wife of the daughters of canaan; and he obeying his father went into syria, proving thereby that his father saw not gladly the daughters of canaan, he went to ishmael, and took him a wife beside them that he had taken tofore, that was melech, daughter of ishmael, son of abraham. then jacob departed from beersheba and went forth on his journey toward aran. when he came to a certain place after going down of the sun and would rest there all night, he took of the stones that were there and laid under his head and slept in the same place. and there he saw in his sleep a ladder standing on the earth, and the upper end thereof touched heaven, and angels of god ascending and descending upon it, and our lord in the midst of the ladder saying to him: i am the lord god of abraham thy father, and of isaac; the land on which thou sleepest i shall give to thee and to thy seed, and thy seed shall be as dust of the earth; thou shalt spread abroad unto the east and unto the west, and north and south, and all the tribes of the earth shall be blessed in thee and in thy seed. and i shall be thy keeper wheresoever thou shalt go, and shall bring thee again into this land, and i shall not leave till i have accomplished all that i have said. when jacob was awaked from his sleep and dreaming, he said: verily god is in this place, and i wist not of it. and he said dreadingly: how terrible is this place, none other thing is here but the house of god and the gate of heaven. then jacob arose early and took the stone that lay under his head, and raised it for witness, pouring oil thereon, and called the name of the place bethel which tofore was called luza. and there he made a vow to our lord, saying: if god be with me and keep me in the way that i walk, and give me bread to eat, and clothes to cover me, and i may return prosperously into the house of my father, the lord shall be my god, and this stone that i have raised in witness, this shall be called the house of god. and the good of all things that thou givest to me, i shall offer to thee the tithes and tenth part. then jacob went forth into the east, and saw a pit in a field and three flocks of sheep lying by it, for of that pit were the beasts watered. and the mouth thereof was shut and closed with a great stone, for the custom was when all the sheep were gathered, they rolled away the stone, and when they had drunken they laid the stone again at the pit mouth. and then he said to the shepherds: brethren, whence are ye? which answered: of aran. then he asking them said: know ye not laban, son of nahor? they said: we know him well. how fareth he, said he, is he all whole? he fareth well, said they; and lo! rachel his daughter cometh there with her flock. then said jacob: it is yet far to even, it is yet time that the flocks be led to drink, and after be driven to pasture, which answered: we may not so do till all the beasts be gathered, and then we remove the stone from the mouth of the pit and water our beasts. and as they talked, rachel came with the flock of her father, for she kept that time the beasts. and when jacob saw her and knew that she was his erne's [uncle's] daughter, and that they were his erne's sheep, he removed the stone from the pit's mouth, and when her sheep had drunken, he kissed her, and weeping he told her that he was brother to her father and son of rebekah. then she hied her and told it to her father, which when he understood that jacob, his sister's son, was come, he ran against him and, embracing, kissed him, and led him into his house. and when he had heard the cause of his journey he said: thou art my mouth and my flesh. and when he had been there the space of a month, he demanded jacob if he would gladly serve him because he was his cousin, and what hire and reward he would have. he had two daughters, the more was named leah, and the less was called rachel, but leah was blear-eyed, and rachel was fair of visage and well-favored, whom jacob loved, and said: i shall serve thee for rachel thy younger daughter seven years. laban answered: it is better that i give her to thee than to a strange man; dwell and abide with me, and thou shalt have her. and so jacob served him for rachel seven years, and him thought it but a little while, because of the great love that he had to her. and at the end of seven years, jacob said to laban: give to me my wife, for the time is come that i should have her. then laban called all his friends and made a feast for the wedding, and at night he brought in leah, the more daughter, and delivered to her an handmaid named zilpah. then jacob, when the morning came, saw that it was leah. he said to laban her father: what hast thou done? have i not served thee for rachel, why hast thou brought leah to me? laban answered: it is not the usage ne custom of our country to give the younger first to be wedded, but fulfil and make an end of this marriage this week, and then shall i give to thee rachel my daughter for other seven years that thou shalt serve to me. jacob agreed gladly, and when that week was passed, he wedded rachel to his wife. to whom laban her father gave an handmaid named bilhah. nevertheless when the wedding of the younger was finished, because of the great love that he had to her, him thought that the other seven years were but short. [and jacob while he served laban had these sons: reuben, simeon, levi, judah, dan, naphtali, gad, asher, issachar, zebulon, joseph.] when joseph was born, jacob said to laban his wives' father: give me leave to depart that i may go in to my country and my land; give to me my wives and children for whom i have served thee that i may go hence. thou knowest what service i have served thee. laban said to him: i have founden grace in thy sight; i know it by experience that god hath blessed me for thee; i have ordained the reward that i shall give to thee. then jacob answered: thou knowest how i have served thee, and how much thy possession was in my hands. thou hadst but little when i came to thee, and now thou art rich, god hath blessed thee at mine entry; it is now right that i provide somewhat toward mine house. laban said: what shall i give to thee? jacob answered: i will nothing but that thou do that i demand. i shall yet feed and keep thy beasts, and depart asunder all the sheep of divers colors. and all that ever shall be of divers colors and spotty, as well in sheep as in goats, let me have them for my reward and meed, and laban granted thereto. then at time of departing, laban took them of two colors, and jacob them that were of one color. thus was jacob made much rich out of measure, and had many flocks, and servants both men and women, camels and asses. after that jacob had heard laban's sons say: jacob hath taken all that was our father's from him, and of his faculty is made rich, he was abashed and understood well by laban's looking that he was not so friendly to himward as he had been tofore. and also our lord said to him that he should return into the land of his fathers and to his generation, and that he would be with him. he then called rachel and leah into the field whereas he fed his flocks, and said to them: i see well by your father's visage that he is not toward me as he was yesterday or that other day; forsooth the god of my father was with me, and ye know well how i have served your father with all my might and strength, but he hath deceived me, and hath changed mine hire and meed ten times, and yet our lord hath not suffered him to grieve me. when he said the beasts of party color should be mine, then all the ewes brought forth lambs of variable colors. and when he said the contrary they brought forth all white. god hath taken the substance of your father and hath given it to me. and now god hath commanded me to depart, wherefore make you ready and let us depart hence. then answered rachel and leah: shall we have nothing else of our father's faculty and of the heritage of his house? shall he repute us as strangers, and he hath eaten and sold our goods? sith god hath taken the goods of our father and hath given it to us and to our children, wherefore all that god commanded to thee, do it. jacob arose and set his children and his wives upon his camels, and went his way and took all his substance, and flocks, and all that he had gotten in mesopotamia and went toward his father isaac into the land of canaan. that time was laban gone to shear his sheep, and rachel stole away the idols of her father. jacob would not let laban know of his departing, and when he was departed with all that longed to him of right, he came to the mount of gilead. it was told to laban, the third day after, that jacob was fled and gone, who anon took his brethren and pursued him by the space of seven days and overtook him in the mount of gilead. he saw our lord in his sleep saying to him: beware that thou speak not angrily ne hard words to jacob. that time jacob had set his tabernacle in the hill, and when he came thither with his brethren, he said to jacob: why hast thou done thus to me to take away my daughters as prisoners taken by sword? why fleddest thou from me and wouldst not let me have knowledge thereof? thou hast not suffered me to kiss my sons and daughters, thou hast done follily. now may i do thee harm and evil, but the god of thy father said to me yesterday: beware that thou speak no hard words against jacob. thou desirest to go to the house of thy father, why hast thou stolen my gods? jacob answered: that i departed thee not knowing, i dreaded that violently thou wouldst have taken from me thy daughters. and where thou reprovest me of theft, whosoever have stolen thy gods let him be slain tofore our brethren. seek and what thou findest that is thine, take with thee. he, saying this, knew not that rachel had stolen her father's gods. then laban entered the tabernacle of jacob and leah, and sought and found nothing. and when he came into the tabernacle of rachel, she hied her and hid the idols under the litter of her camel and sat upon it. and he sought and found nought. then said rachel: let not my lord be wroth for i may not arise to thee, for sickness is fallen to me, and so she deceived her father. then jacob, being angry and grudging, said to laban: what is my trespass and what have i sinned to thee that thou hast pursued me, and hast searched everything? what hast thou now founden of all the substance of thy house? lay it forth tofore my brethren and thy brethren, that they judge between me and thee. i have served thee twenty years and have been with thee, thy sheep and thy goats were never barren. i have eaten no wethers of thy flock, nor beast hath destroyed none. i shall make all good what was stolen. i prayed therefore day and night, i labored both in heat and in cold, sleep fled from mine eyes. thus i served thee in thy house twenty years, fourteen for thy daughters and six for thy flocks. thou hast changed mine hire and reward ten times. but if the god of my father abraham and the dread of isaac had been with me, haply thou wouldst now have left me naked. our lord god hath beholden mine affliction and the labor of mine hands and reproved thee yesterday. laban answered to him: my daughters and sons, and thy flocks, and all that thou beholdest are thine, what may i do to my sons and nephews? let us now be friends, and make we a fast league and confederacy together. then jacob raised a stone, and raised it in token of friendship and peace, and so they ate together in friendship, and sware each to other to abide in love ever after. and after this laban arose in the night, and kissed his daughters and sons, and blessed them, and returned into his country. jacob went forth in his journey that he had taken. angels of god met him, which when he saw, he said: these be the castles of god, and called that place mahanaim. he sent messengers tofore him to esau his brother in the land of seir, in the land of edom, and bade them say thus to esau: this saith thy brother jacob: i have dwelled with laban unto this day, i have oxen and asses, servants both men and women. i send now a legation unto my lord that i may find grace in his sight. these messengers returned to jacob and said: we came to esau thy brother, and lo! he cometh for to meet thee with four hundred men. jacob was sore afraid then, and divided his company into twain turmes [two troops], saying: if esau come to that one and destroy that, that other shall yet be saved. then said jacob: o god of my father abraham, and god of my father isaac, o lord that saidst to me, return into thy land and place of thy nativity, and saidst i shall do well to thee, i am the least in all thy mercies, and in thy truth that thou hast granted to thy servant, with my staff i have gone this river of jordan, and now i return with two turmes. i beseech the lord keep me from the hands of my brother esau, for i fear him greatly lest he come and smite down the mother with the sons. thou hast said that thou shouldest do well to me and shouldest spread my seed like unto the gravel of the sea, and that it may not be numbered for multitude. then when he had slept that night, he ordained gifts for to send to his brother, goats two hundred, kids twenty, sheep two hundred, and rams twenty; forty kine and twenty bulls, twenty asses and ten foals of them. and he sent by his servants all these beasts; and bade them say that jacob his servant sent to him this present and that he followeth after. and jacob thought to please him with gifts. the night following, him thought a man wrestled with him all that night till the morning, and when he saw he might not overcome him, he hurted the sinew of his thigh that he halted thereof, and said to him: let me go and leave me, for it is in the morning. then jacob answered: i shall not leave thee but if thou bless me. he said to him: what is thy name? he answered: jacob. then he said: nay, said he, thy name shall no more be called jacob, but israel, for if thou hast been strong against god, how much more shalt thou prevail against men? then jacob said to him: what is thy name? tell me. he answered, why demandest thou my name, which is marvellous? and he blessed him in the same place. jacob called the name of that same place penuel, saying: i have seen our lord face to face, and my soul is made safe. and anon as he was past penuel the sun arose. he halted on his foot, and therefore the children of israel eat no sinews because it dried in the thigh of jacob. then jacob lifting up his eyes saw esau coming and four hundred men with him, and divided the sons of leah and of rachel, and of both their handmaidens, and set each handmaid and their children tofore in the first place, leah and her sons in the second, and rachel and joseph all behind. and he going tofore kneeled down to ground and, worshipping his brother, approached him. esau ran for to meet with his brother, and embraced him, straining his neck, and weeping kissed him, and he looked forth and saw the women and their children, and said: what been these and to whom longen they? jacob answered: they be children which god hath given to me thy servant and his handmaidens, and their children approached and kneeled down, and leah with her children also worshipped him, and last of all joseph and rachel worshipped him. then said esau: whose been these turmes [troops] which i have met? jacob answered: i have sent them to thee, my lord, unto the end that i may stand in thy grace. esau said: i have many myself, keep these and let them be thine. nay, said jacob, i pray thee to take this gift which god hath sent me that i may find grace in thy sight, for meseemeth i see thy visage like the visage of god; and therefore be thou to me merciful, and take this blessing of me. unnethe [hardly] by compelling he taking it, said: let us go together, i shall accompany thee and be fellow of thy journey. then said jacob: thou knowest well, my lord, that i have young children and tender, and sheep and oxen, which, if i over-labored, should die all in a day, wherefore please it you, my lord, to go tofore, and i shall follow as i may with my children and beasts. esau answered: i pray thee then let my fellows abide and accompany thee, whatsoever need thou have. jacob said: it is no need, i need no more but one, that i may stand in thy favor, my lord. and esau returned then the same way and journey that he came into seir. and jacob came to succoth and builded there an house, and from thence he went in to shalem, the town of shechem which is in the land of canaan, and bought there a part of a field, in which he fixed his tabernacles, of the sons of hamor father of shechem for an hundred lambs. and there he raised an altar, and worshipped upon it the strongest god of israel. after this our lord appeared to jacob and said: arise and go up to bethel and dwell there, and make there an altar to the lord that appeared to thee in the way when thou fleddest from thy brother esau. jacob then called all them of his house and said: cast away from you all your strange gods that be among you, and make you clean and change your clothes; arise and let us go into bethel, and make we there an altar to our lord that heard me in the day of my tribulation, and was fellow of my journey. then they gave to him all their strange gods, and the gold that hung on their ears, and he dalf a pit behind the city of shechem and threw them therein. and when they departed, all the countries thereabout were afraid and durst not pursue them. then jacob came to a place called luz which is in the land of canaan, and all the people with him, which otherwise is called bethel. he edified there an altar to our lord, and named that place the house of god. our lord appeared to him in that place when he fled from his brother esau. that same time died deborah, the nurse of rebekah, and was buried at the root of bethel under an oak. our lord appeared again to jacob after that he was returned from mesopotamia of syria, and was come into bethel, and blessed him saying: thou shalt no more be called jacob but israel shall be thy name, and called him israel, and said to him: i am god almighty, grow and multiply, folks and peoples of nations shall come of thee, kings shall come of thy loins. the land that i gave to abraham and isaac i shall give to thee and thy seed; and vanished from him. he then raised a stone for a remembrance in the place where god spake to him, and anointed it with oil, calling the name of the place bethel. he went thence and came in veer time unto the land that goeth to ephrath, in which place rachel bare a son. and the death drawing near, she named him benoni, which is as much to say as the son of my sorrow. the father called him benjamin, that is to say the son of the right hand. there rachel died and was buried in the way toward ephrath, that is bethlehem. jacob raised a title upon her tomb; this is the title of the monument of rachel unto this present day. jacob went thence and came to isaac his father into mamre the city of arbah, that is hebron, in which dwelled abraham and isaac. and all the days of isaac were complete, which were an hundred and fourscore years, and he consumed and died in good mind, and esau and jacob his sons buried him. thus endeth the history of isaac and his two sons esau and jacob. here beginneth the history of joseph and his brethren _which is read the third sunday in lent_ joseph when he was sixteen years old began to keep and feed the flock with his brethren, he being yet a child, and was accompanied with the sons of bilhah and zilpah, wives of his father. joseph complained on his brethren, and accused them to their father of the most evil sin. israel loved joseph above all his sons for as much as he had gotten him in his old age, and made for him a motley coat. his brethren then seeing that he was beloved of his father more than they were, hated him and might not speak to him a peaceable word. it happed on a time that joseph dreamed, and saw a sweven [dream], and told it to his brethren, which caused them to hate him yet more. joseph said to his brethren: hear ye my dream that i had; methought that we bound sheaves in the field, and my sheaf stood up and yours standing round about and worshipped my sheaf. his brethren answered: shalt thou be our king and shall we be subject and obey thy commandment? therefore this cause of dreams and of these words ministered the more fume of hate and envy. joseph saw another sweven and told to his father and brethren: methought i saw in my sleep the sun, the moon, and eleven stars worship me. which when his father and his brethren had heard, the father blamed him, and said: what may betoken this dream that thou sawest? trowest thou that i, thy mother and thy brethren, shall worship thee upon the earth? his brethren had great envy hereat. the father thought and considered a thing secretly in himself. on a time when his brethren kept their flocks of sheep in shechem, israel said to joseph: thy brethren feed their sheep in shechem, come and i shall send thee to them, which answered: i am ready, and he said: go and see if all things be well and prosperous at thy brethren and beasts, and come again and tell me what they do. he went from the vale of hebron and came unto shechem. there a man found him erring in the field, and asked him what he sought, and he answered: i seek my brethren, tell me where they feed their flocks. the man said to him: they been departed from this place, i heard them say let us go in to dothan. which then when his brethren saw him come from far, tofore he approached to them they thought to slay him, and spake together saying: lo! see the dreamer cometh. come and let us slay him and put him into this old cistern. and we shall say that some wild evil beast hath devoured him, and then shall appear what his dreams shall profit him. reuben hearing this, thought for to deliver him from their hands, and said: let us not slay him ne shed his blood, but keep your hands undefouled. this he said, willing to keep him from their hands and render him again to his father. anon then as he came they took off his motley coat, and set him into an old cistern that had no water. as they sat for to eat bread they saw ishmaelites coming from gilead, and their camels bringing spices and raisins into egypt. then said judah to his brethren: what should it profit us if we slew our brother and shed his blood? it is better that he be sold to ishmaelites and our hands be not defouled, he is our own brother and our flesh. his brethren agreed to his words, and drew him out of the cistern, and sold him to the midianitish merchants passing forth by to ishmaelites for thirty pieces of silver, which led him into egypt. at this time when he was sold reuben was not there, but was in another field with his beasts. and when he returned and came unto the cistern and found not joseph, he tare his clothes for sorrow, and came to his brethren and said: the child is not yonder, whither shall i go to seek him? he had supposed his brethren had slain him in his absence. they told him what they had done, and took his coat, and besprinkled it with the blood of a kid which they slew, and sent it to their father saying: see whether this be the coat of thy son or not, this we have found. which anon as the father saw it said: this is my son's coat, an evil wild beast hath devoured him, some beast hath eaten him; and rent his clothes and did on him a sackcloth, bewailing and sorrowing his son a long time. all his sons gathered them, together for to comfort their father and assuage his sorrow, but he would take no comfort, but said: i shall descend to my son into hell for to bewail him there. and thus, he abiding in sorrow, the midianites carried joseph into egypt, and sold him to potiphar, eunuch of pharaoh, master of his knights. thus was joseph led into egypt, and potiphar, prince of the host of pharaoh, an egyptian, bought him of the hands of ishmaelites. our lord god was always with joseph, and he was wise, ready, and prosperous in all manner of things. he dwelled in his lord's house and pleased so well his lord, that he stood in his grace that he made him upperest and above all other, and betook him the rule and governance of all his house, which well and wisely governed the household and all that he had charge of. our lord blessed the house of egypt for joseph's sake, and multiplied as well in beasts as in fields all his substance. joseph was fair of visage and well favored. after many days the lady, his master's wife, beheld and cast her eyes on joseph, and tempted him to sin. he refused that, and would not attend ne listen to her words, ne would not consent to so sinful a work, and said to her: lo! hath not my lord delivered to me all that he hath in his house? and he knoweth not what he hath, and there is nothing therein but that it is in my power and at my commandment except thee, which art his wife. how may i do this evil and sin to my lord? such manner, or semblable words, he said daily to her, and the woman was the more desirous and grievous to the young man, and he always forsook and refused the sin. and when the lady saw that she was refused, she cried and called the men of the house and accused joseph falsely. when the lord heard this, anon he gave faith and believed his wife, and being sore wroth, set joseph in prison where the prisoners of the king were kept and he was there fast set in. our lord god was with joseph, and had mercy on him, and made him in the favor and grace of the chief keeper of the prison, in so much that he delivered to joseph the keeping of all the prisoners, and what he did was done, and the chief jailer was pleased with all. our lord was with him and directed all his works. after this it fell so that two officers of the king's trespassed unto their lord, wherefore he was wroth with them and commanded them to the prison whereas joseph was. that one of them was the butler, and that other the baker; and the keeper betook them to joseph to keep, and he served them. after a while that they had been in prison they both saw on one night a dream of which they were astoned and abashed, and when joseph was come in to serve them, and saw them heavy, he demanded them why they were heavier than they were wont to be, which answered: we have dreamed and there is none to interpret it to us. joseph said to them: suppose ye that god may not give me grace to interpret it? tell to me what ye saw in your sleep. then the butler told first and said: methought i saw a vine had three branches, and after they had flowered the grapes were ripe, and then i took the cup of pharaoh in my hand, and took the grapes and wrang out of them wine into the cup that i held, and presented it to pharaoh to drink. joseph answered: the three branches be yet three days, after which pharaoh shall remember thy service and shall restore thee into thy foremost office and gree, for to serve him as thou wert wont to do. then i pray thee to remember me when thou art at thine above, and be to me so merciful to sue unto pharaoh that he take me out of this prison, for i was stolen out of the land of hebrews and am innocently set here in prison. then the master baker saw that he had wisely interpreted the butler's dream; he said: methought that i had three baskets of meat upon my head, and in that one basket that was highest methought i bare all the meat of the bakehouse and birds came and ate of it. joseph answered: this is the interpretation of the dream; the three baskets be three days yet to come, after which pharaoh shall smite off thy head and shall hang thee on the cross, and the birds shall tear thy flesh. and the third day after this pharaoh made a great feast unto his children, and remembered him, among the meals, on the master butler and the master baker. he restored his butler unto his office, and to serve him of the cup, and that other was hanged, that the truth of the interpreter was believed and proved. notwithstanding the master butler in his wealth forgat joseph his interpreter. two years after pharaoh saw in his sleep a dream. him thought he stood upon the river, from which he saw seven oxen ascend to the land which were fair and right fat, and were fed in a fat pasture; he saw other seven come out of the river, poor and lean, and were fed in places plenteous and burgeoning. these devoured the other that were so fat and fair. herewith he started out of his sleep, and after slept again, and saw another dream. he saw seven ears of corn standing on one stalk, full and fair of corns, and as many other ears void and smitten with drought, which devoured the beauty of the first seven. in the morning pharaoh awoke and was greatly afeard of these dreams, and sent for all conjectors and diviners of egypt, and wise men; and when they were gathered he told to them his dream, and there was none that could interpret it. then at last the master butler, remembering joseph, said: i knowledge my sin, on a time the king being wroth with his servants, sent me and the master of the bakers into prison, where we in one night dreamed both prodigies of things coming. and there was a child of the hebrews, servant to the jailer, to whom we told our dreams and he expounded them to us and said what should happen; i am restored to mine office and that other is hanged on the cross. anon, by the king's commandment, joseph was taken out of prison and shaved, bathed, and changed his clothes, and brought tofore pharaoh, to whom he said: i saw a dream which i have showed unto wise men, and there is none that can tell me the interpretation thereof. to whom joseph answered: god shall answer by me things prosperous to pharaoh. then pharaoh told to him his dreams, like as is tofore written, of the seven fat oxen and seven lean, and how the lean devoured the fat, and in likewise of the ears. joseph answered: the king's dreams are one thing which god hath showed to pharaoh. the seven fat oxen and the seven ears full, betoken seven years to come of great plenty and commodious, and the seven lean oxen, and the seven void ears smitten with drought, betoken seven years after them of great hunger and scarcity. lo! there shall come first seven years of great fertility and plenty in all the land of egypt, after whom shall follow other seven years of so great sterility, barrenness, and scarcity, that the abundance of the first shall be all forgotten. the great hunger of these latter years shall consume all the plenty of the first years. the latter dream pertaineth to the same, because god would that it should be fulfilled. now therefore let the king provide for a man that is wise and witty, that may command and ordain provosts and officers in all places of the realm, that they gather into garners and barns the fifth part of all the corn and fruits that shall grow these first seven plenteous years that be to come, and that all this wheat may be kept in barns and garners in towns and villages, that it may be made ready against the coming of the seven scarce years that shall oppress by hunger all egypt, to the end that the people be not enfamined. this counsel pleased much to pharaoh and to all his ministers. then pharaoh said to his servants: where should we find such a man as this is, which is fulfilled with the spirit of god? and then he said to joseph: forasmuch as god hath showed to thee all that thou hast spoken, trowest thou that we might find any wiser than thou or like to thee? thou shalt be upperest of my house, and to the commandment of thy mouth all people shall obey. i only shall go tofore thee and sit but one seat above thee. yet said pharaoh to joseph: lo! i have ordained thee above and master upon all the land of egypt. he took a ring from his hand and gave it into his hand, and clad him with a double stole furred with bise; and a golden collar he put about his neck, and made him to ascend upon his chair; the second trumpet crying that all men should kneel tofore him, and that they should know him upperest provost of all the land of egypt. then said the king of egypt to joseph: i am pharaoh, without thy commandment shall no man move hand nor foot in all the land of egypt. he changed his name and called him in the tongue of egypt: the saviour of the world. he gave to him a wife named asenath, daughter of poti-phera, priest of eliopoleos. joseph went forth then into the land of egypt. joseph was thirty years old when he stood in the favor and grace of pharaoh. and he went round about all the region of egypt. the plenteousness and fertility of the seven years came, and sheaves and shocks of corn were brought in to the barns; all the abundance of fruits was laid in every town. there was so great plenty of wheat that it might be compared to the gravel of the sea, and the plenty thereof exceedeth measure. joseph had two sons by his wife ere the famine and hunger came, which asenath the priest's daughter brought forth, of whom he called the name of the first manasseh, saying: god hath made me to forget all my labors, and the house of my father hath forgotten me. he called the name of the second son ephraim, saying: god hath made me to grow in the land of my poverty. then passed the seven years of plenty and fertility that were in egypt, and the seven years of scarcity and hunger began to come, which joseph had spoken of tofore, and hunger began to wax and grow in the universal world; also in all the land of egypt was hunger and scarcity. and when the people hungered they cried to pharaoh asking meat, to whom he answered: go ye to joseph, and whatsoever he saith to you do ye. daily grew and increased the hunger in all the land. then joseph opened the barns and garners, and sold corn to the egyptians, for the hunger oppressed them sore. all provinces came into egypt for to buy meat to them, and to eschew the hunger. jacob, father unto joseph, heard tell that corn and victuals were sold in egypt, and said to his sons: why be ye negligent? i have heard say that corn is sold in egypt; go ye thither and buy for us that is necessary and behoveful, that we may live, and consume not for need. then the ten brethren of joseph descended into egypt for to buy wheat, and benjamin was left at home with the father, because whatsoever happed to the brethren in their journey. then they entered into the land of egypt with others for to buy corn. there was great famine in the land of canaan, and joseph was prince in the land of egypt, also by his commandment wheat was sold unto the people. then when his brethren were come and had adored and worshipped him, he anon knew them, and spake to them, as to strangers, hard words, demanding them saying: whence be ye? which answered: of the land of canaan, and come hither to buy that is necessary for us. and though he knew his brethren, yet was he unknown of them. he remembered the dreams that he sometime had seen, and told them and said: ye be spies and be come hither for to espy the weakest places of this land, which said to him: it is not so, my lord, but we thy servants be come for to buy victuals. we be all sons to one man, we come peaceably, ne we thy servants think ne imagine none evil. to whom he answered: it is all otherwise, ye be come for to espy and consider the secretest places of this realm. then they said: we are twelve brethren, thy servants, sons of one man in the land of canaan, the youngest is at home with our father, and that other is dead. that is, said he, that i said; ye be spies. now i have of you the experience. i swear to you by the health of pharaoh ye shall not depart till that your youngest brother come. send ye one of you for him to bring him hither. ye shall abide in fetters in prison till the truth be proved whether the things that ye have said be true or false, else, by the health of pharaoh, ye be spies. and delivered them to be kept three days. the third day they were brought out of prison, to whom he said: i dread god, if ye be peaceable as ye say, do as ye have said, and ye shall live. let one brother be bounden in prison, and go ye your way, and lead home the wheat that ye have bought into your houses, and bring to me with you your youngest brother, that i may prove your words, that ye die not. they did as he said, and spake together: we be worthy and well deserved to suffer this, for we have sinned in our brother, seeing his anguish when he prayed us and we heard him not, therefore this tribulation is fallen upon us. of whom reuben said: said not i to you, in no wise sin not ye in the child, and ye would not hear me? now his blood is wroken. they knew not that joseph understood them, forasmuch as he spake alway to them by an interpreter. then joseph turned him a little and wept. after he returned to them, and took simeon in their presence and bound him, and sent him to prison, and commanded to his ministers to fill their sacks with wheat, and to put each man's money in their sacks, and above that to give them meat to spend in their way; which did so. and they took their wheat and laid it on their asses and departed on their way. after, one of them, on the way, opened his sack for to give his beast meat, and found his money in the mouth of his sack and said to his brethren: my money is given to me again, lo! i have found it in my sack. and they were all astonied: what is this that god hath done to us? then they came home to their father in the land of canaan and told to him all things that was fallen to them, saying: the lord of the country hath spoken hard to us and had supposed that we been spies of that province, to whom we answered that, we were peaceable people ne were no such spies, and that we were twelve sons gotten of one father, one is dead and the youngest is with our father in the land of canaan. which then said to us: now shall i prove whether ye be peaceable or no. ye shall leave here one brother with me, and lead home that is necessary for you, and go your way and see that ye bring with you your youngest brother that i may know that ye be none espies and that ye may receive this brother that i hold in prison, and then forthon what that ye will buy ye shall have license. and this said, each of them poured out the wheat, and every man found his money bounden in the mouth of every sack. then said jacob their father: ye have made me without children. joseph is gone and lost, simeon is bounden in prison, and benjamin ye will take away from me, on me come all these evils. to reuben answered: slay my two sons if i bring him not again to thee; deliver him to me in my hand, and i shall restore him again to thee. the father said: my son shall not go with you, his brother is dead and he is left now alone, if any adversity should hap to him in the way that ye go into, ye shall lead my old hairs with sorrow to hell. in the meanwhile famine and hunger oppressed all the land greatly. and when the corn that they brought from egypt was consumed, jacob said to his sons: return ye into egypt and buy for us some meat, that we may live. judah answered: that man said to us, under swearing of great oaths, that: ye shall not see my face ne come into my presence, but if ye bring your youngest brother with you. therefore if thou wilt send him with us, we shall go together and shall buy for us that shall be necessary, and if thou wilt not we shall not go. the man said as we oft have said to thee, that if we bring him not we shall not see his visage. israel said to them: this have ye done into my misery, that ye told to him that ye had another brother. and they answered: the man demanded of us by order our progeny, if our father lived, if we had any brother. and we answered him consequently after that he demanded, we wist not what he would say, ne that he said bring your brother with you. send the child with us that we may go forth and live, and that we ne our children die not for hunger. i shall receive thy son, and require him of my hand. if i lead him not thither and bring him again, i shall be guilty to thee of the sin ever after. if there had been no delay of this, we had been there and come again by this time. then israel their father said to them: if it be so necessary as ye say, do ye as ye will; take with you of the best fruits of this land in your vessels, and give ye and present to that man gifts, a little raisins, and honey, storax, stacten, terebinthe, and dates, and bear with you double money, and also the same money that ye found in your sacks, lest there be any error therefore; and take with you benjamin, your brother. my god, that is almighty, make him pleasant unto you, and that ye may return in safety with this your brother and him also that he holdeth in prison; i shall be as a man barren therewhiles, without children. then the brethren took the gifts and double money and benjamin, and went forth into egypt, and came and stood tofore joseph; whom when he had seen, and benjamin, he commanded to the steward of his house that he should do slay sheep and calves and make a feast, for these brethren shall dine with me this day. he did as he was commanded and brought the men unto his lord's house. then were they all afeard and said softly together: because of the money that we had in our sacks we be brought in that he take us with the default, and shall by violence bring us and our asses into servitude. wherefore they said to the steward of the house, in the gate of the house ere they entered, saying: we pray thee to hear us: the last time that we came to buy victual, which when we had bought and departed, and were on our way, for to give our beasts meat we opened our sacks, and we found in the mouth of our sacks our money that we had paid, which we now bring again of the same weight, and we have more other for to buy to us that shall be necessary. it is not in our conscience to have it, we weet never who put it in our sacks. he answered to him: peace be among you, fear ye nothing, the god of your father hath given to you the treasure that ye found in your sacks, for the money that ye paid to me i have it ready. and then he brought in simeon to them, and brought them into the house, and washed their feet, and gave meat to their asses. they made ready and ordained their gifts and presents against the coming of joseph. they heard say that they should dine and eat there. then joseph entered into the house, and they offered to him the gifts, holding them in their hands, and worshipped him falling down to the ground. and he debonairly saluted them and demanded them, saying: is your father in good health of whom ye told me, liveth he yet? they answered: thy servant our father is in good health and liveth yet, and kneeled down and worshipped him. then, said he, casting his eyes on his brother benjamin that was of one mother, and said: is this your young brother of whom ye told me? and also said, god be merciful to thee, my son; he hied him from themward, for he was moved in all his spirits and wept on his brother, and went into his bedchamber. after this he washed his visage and came out making good countenance and commanded to set bread on the board, and after that he set his brethren in order, each after their age, and ate together, and joseph sat and ate with the egyptians. for it was not lawful to the egyptians to eat with the hebrews. and each of them were well served, but benjamin had the best part, and they ate and drank so much that they were drunken. then joseph commanded the steward of his house to fill their sacks with wheat as much as they might receive, and the money of the wheat put it into every man's sack, and take my cup of silver, and the money of the youngest, and put that in his sack. and all this was done. and on the morn betimes they were suffered to depart with their asses. and when they were gone out of the town and a little on their way, then joseph said to his steward: make thee ready and ride after, and say to them: why have ye done evil for good? the cup that my lord is accustomed to drink in, ye have stolen, ye might not do a worse thing. he did as joseph had commanded and overtook them, and said to them all by order like as he had charge, which answered: why saith your lord so, and doth to us his servants such letting? the money that we found in our sacks we brought again to thee from the land of canaan, and how may it follow that we should steal any gold or silver from the house of thy lord? look! at whom it be found of us all thy servants, let him die. which said to them: be it after your sentence, at whom that it ever be found he shall be my servant and the others shall go free and be not guilty. then he hied and set down all their sacks, beginning at the oldest unto the youngest, and at last found the cup in the mouth of the sack of benjamin. then they all for sorrow cut and rent their clothes, and laded their asses again, and returned all into the town again. then judah entered first with his brethren unto joseph and all they together fell down platte to the ground. to whom joseph said: why have ye done thus? know not ye that there is no man like to me in the science of knowledge? to whom judah answered: what shall we answer to thee, my lord; or what shall we speak or rightfully desire? god hath found and remembered the iniquity of us thy servants, for we be all thy servants, yea, we and he at whom the cup was found. joseph answered: god forbid that i should so do, whosoever stole the cup shall be my servant, and go ye your way, for ye shall be free and go to your father. then judah approached near him and spake with a hardy cheer to him and said: i beseech thee my lord to hear me thy servant that i may say to thine audience a word, and that thou wilt not be wroth to thy servant. thou art next to pharaoh; my lord, thou demandedst first of us thy servants: have ye a father or brother? and we answered to thee, my lord: our father is an old man and we have a brother a young child which was born to him in his old age, whose brother of the same mother is dead, and he is an only son whom the father loveth tenderly. thou saidst to us thy servants: bring him hither to me that i may see. we told to thee my lord for truth: our father may not forego the child, if he forego him certainly he shall die. and thou saidst to us, thy servants: but if ye bring him not with you, ye shall no more see my visage. then when we came to our father and told him all these things, and our father bade us to return and buy more corn. to whom we said: we may not go thither but if our youngest brother go with us, for if he be absent we dare not approach, ne come to the presence of the man; and he answered to us: ye know well that my wife brought to me forth but two sons, that one went out, and ye said that wild beasts had devoured him, and yet i heard never of him ne he appeared not. if now ye should take this my son and anything happened to him in the way ye should bring my hoar hair with sorrow to hell. therefore if i should come home to my father and bring not the child with me, sith the soul and health of my father dependeth of this child, and see that he is not come with us, he shall die and we thy servants should lead his old age with wailing and sorrow to hell. i myself shall be thy proper servant which have received him upon my faith and have promised for him, saying to my father: if i bring him not again i shall be guilty of the sin to my father ever after. i shall abide and continue thy servant for the child in the ministry and service of thee my lord. i may not depart, the child being absent, lest i be witness of the sorrow that my father shall take. wherefore i beseech thee to suffer this child to go to his father and receive me into thy service. thus said judah, with much more; as josephus, antiquitatum, rehearseth more piteously, and saith moreover that the cause why he did do hide the cup in benjamin's sack, was to know whether they loved benjamin or hated him as they did him, what time they sold him to the ishmaelites. then this request made, joseph might no longer forbear, but commanded them that stood by to withdraw them, and when all men were gone out sauf he and his brethren, he began to say to them weeping: i am joseph your brother, liveth yet my father? the brethren were so afeard that they could not speak ne answer to him. then he debonairly said to them: come hither to me; and when they came near him he said: i am joseph your brother that ye sold into egypt; be ye not afeard nor think not hard unto you that ye sold me into these regions. god hath sent me tofore you into egypt for your health. it is two years since the famine began, and yet been five years to come in which men may not ear, sow, ne reap. god hath sent me tofore you that ye should be reserved on the earth, and that ye may have meat to live by. it is not by your counsel that i was sent hither, but by the will of god, which hath ordained me father of pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and prince in all the land of egypt. hie you, and go to my father, and say ye to him: this word sendeth thee thy son joseph: god hath made me lord of the universal land of egypt, come to me lest thou die, and thou shalt dwell in the land of goshen. thou shalt be next me, thou and thy sons and the sons of thy sons, and i shall feed thy sheep, thy beasts and all that thou hast in possession. yet rest five year to come of famine, therefore come lest thou perish, thy house, and all that thou owest. lo! your eyes and the eyes of my brother benjamin see that my mouth speaketh these words to you. show ye to my father all my glory and all that ye have seen in egypt. hie ye and bring him to me. this said, he embraced his brother benjamin about his neck and wept upon each of them. after this they durst better speak to him. anon it was told and known all about in the king's hall that joseph's brethren were come. and pharaoh was joyful and glad thereof and all his household. and pharaoh said to joseph that he should say to his brethren: lade ye your beasts and go into the land of canaan, and bring from thence your father and kindred, and come to me, and i shall give you all the goods of egypt, that ye may eat the marrow of the earth. command ye also that they take carriages of this land of egypt, for the carriage of their children and wives, and say to them: take your father and come as soon as ye may, and leave nothing behind you, for all the best things shall be yours. the sons of israel did as they were commanded. to whom joseph gave carriages after the commandment of pharaoh, and meat to eat by the way. he commanded to give to every each two garments. to benjamin he gave three hundred pieces of silver, with five garments of the best, and also he sent clothing to his father, adding to them ten asses which were laden with all riches of egypt, and as many asses laden and bearing bread and victual to spend by the way. and thus he let his brethren depart from him saying: be ye not wroth in the way. then they thus departing came into the land of canaan to their father, and showed all this to their father, and said: joseph thy son liveth and he lordeth in all the land of egypt. when jacob heard this he awoke as a man had been awaked suddenly out of his sleep, yet nevertheless he believed them not, and they told to him all the order of the matter. when he saw the carriage and all that he had sent, his spirit revived and said: it sufficeth to me if joseph my son yet live, i shall go and see him ere i die. then israel went forth with all that he had and came to the pit where tofore he had sworn to god; and slew there beasts to make sacrifices to the god of isaac his father. he heard god by a vision that same night saying to him: jacob, jacob, to whom he answered: i am here all ready. god said to him: i am strongest god of thy father isaac, dread thee not, but descend down into egypt. i shall make thee to grow there into great people. i shall descend with thee thither, and i shall bring thee again when thou returnest. joseph soothly shall put his hands upon thine eyes. jacob then arose on the morn early, and his sons took him with their children and wives and set them on the carriages that pharaoh had sent to bring him and all that he had into the land of canaan. and so came into egypt with all his progeny, sons and children, etc. these be the names of the sons of israel that entered with him into egypt. the first begotten reuben with his children four. simeon with his seven sons. levi with his three sons. judah and his sons three. issachar and his four sons. zebulon and his sons three. these were sons of leah that jacob gat in mesopotamia, and dinah his daughter. all these sons and daughters were thirty-three. gad also entered with his children seven. asher with his children five and of his children's children two. these were sons of zilpah, in number sixteen. the sons of rachel were joseph and benjamin. joseph had two sons in the land of egypt by his wife asenath, manasseh and ephraim. the sons of benjamin were ten. all these children that came of rachel were in number fourteen. dan entered with one son, and naphtali with four sons. these were the children of bilhah; they were in number seven. all the souls that were issued of his seed that entered into egypt with him, without the wives of his sons, were sixty-six. the sons of joseph that were born in egypt twain. summa of all the souls of the house of jacob that entered into egypt were in all seventy. jacob sent them tofore him judah unto joseph, to show to him his coming. and he came to joseph in goshen, and anon joseph ascended his chariot and went for to meet his father, and when he saw him, he embraced him meekly and wept. and his father received him joyously and embraced also him. then said the father to joseph: now shall i die joyously because i have seen thy visage. then said joseph to his brethren and to all the house of his father: i shall go and ascend to pharaoh and shall say to him, that my brethren and the house of my father that were in the land of canaan be come to me, and be men keeping sheep, and can the manner well for to keep the flocks of sheep, and that they have brought with them their beasts, and all that ever they had. when he shall call you and ask you of what occupation ye be, ye shall say: we be shepherds, thy servants, from our childhood unto now, and our fathers also. this shall ye say that ye may dwell in the land of goshen, for the egyptians have spite unto herdmen of sheep. then joseph entered tofore pharaoh and said to him: my father, my brethren, their sheep and beasts be come from the land of canaan, and be in the land of goshen. and he brought five of his brethren tofore the king, whom he demanded of what occupation they were of. they answered: we be keepers of sheep, thy servants, we and our fathers, we be come to dwell in thy land, for there is no grass for the flocks of sheep of us thy servants, the famine is so great in the land of canaan. we beseech thee that thou command us thy servants to dwell in the land of goshen. then said the king to joseph: thy father and thy brethren be come to thee, the land of egypt is at thy commandment, make thou them to dwell in the best place, and deliver to them the land of goshen. and if thou know them for conning, ordain they to be masters of my beasts. after this joseph brought his father in, and made him stand tofore the king which blessed him, and was demanded of the king how old he was. he answered: the days of the pilgrimage of my life be an hundred and thirty years, small and evil, and yet i am not come unto the days of my fathers that they have lived. and he blessed the king and went out. then joseph gave to his father and brethren possession in egypt in the best soil of rameses like as pharaoh had commanded, and there fed them, giving to each of them victual. in all the world was scarcity of bread, and hunger and famine oppressed specially and most, the land of egypt and the land of canaan. of which lands joseph gat all the money for selling of wheat, and brought it into the king's treasury. when all people lacked money, all egypt came to joseph saying: give us bread, why die we to the lacking money. to whom he answered: bring to me your beasts and i shall give you for them victuals, if ye have no money: which when they brought, he gave to them victuals and food for horses, sheep, oxen and asses, and sustained them one year for changing of their beasts. then came they again the second year and said: we hide not from thee our lord that our money is failed and also our beasts be gone, and there is nothing left but our bodies and our land. why then shall we die in thy sight? and we ourselves and also our land shall be thine, buy us into bondship and servitude of the king, and give us seed to sow lest the earth turn into wilderness. then joseph bought all the land of egypt, every man selling his possessions for the vehement hunger that they had. he subdued all unto pharaoh, and all his people from the last terms of egypt unto the utterest ends of the same, except the land longing to the priests, which was given to them by the king, to whom were given victuals openly out of all the barns and garners, and therefore they were not compelled to sell their possessions. then said joseph to all the peoples: lo, now ye see and know that pharaoh oweth and is in possession of you and of your land. take to you seed and sow ye the fields that ye may have fruit. the fifth part thereof ye shall give to the king and four parts i promise to you to sow, and for meat to your servants and to your children. which answered: our health is in thine hand, let our lord only behold us and we shall gladly serve the king. from that time unto this present day, in all the land of egypt the fifth part is paid to the king; and it is holden for a law, except the land longing to the priests which is free from this condition. then israel dwelled in egypt in the land of goshen, and was in possession thereof. he increased and multiplied greatly, and lived therein seventeen years. and all the years of his life were an hundred and seven and forty years. when he understood that the day of his death approached, he called to him his son joseph and said to him: if i may find so much grace in thy sight, do to me so much mercy as thou promise and swear that thou bury me not in egypt, but that i may rest with my fathers, and take and carry me from this land, and lay me in the sepulchre of my forefathers. to whom joseph answered: i shall do that thou hast commanded. then said he: swear to me, and so he swore. and then israel adored and worshipped our lord, and turned him toward his bed's head. then this done, anon after it was told to joseph that his father was sick and feeble; who anon took his sons manasseh and ephraim and came to his father. anon it was told to the father: lo thy son joseph cometh to thee, which then was comforted, and sat up in his bed. and joseph entered in, and jacob said: almighty god appeared to me in luz which is in the land of canaan, and he blessed me and said: i shall increase thee and multiply thee into tourbes of peoples, i shall give to thee this land and to thy seed after thee in sempiternal possession, therefore thy two sons that be born to thee in this land of egypt tofore i came hither to thee, shall be my sons ephraim and manasseh, they shall be reputed to me as simeon and reuben. the other that thou shalt get after them shall be thine, and shall be called in the name of their brethren in their possessions. then he, seeing joseph's sons, said to him: who be these children? joseph answered: they be my sons which god hath given to me in this place. bring them hither, said he, to me that i may bless them. israel's eyes were dimmed and might not see clearly for great age. he took them to him and kissed them and said to joseph: i am not defrauded from the sight of thee, and furthermore god hath showed to me thy seed. then when joseph took them from his father's lap, he worshipped him kneeling low to the earth, and set ephraim on his right side, and on the left side of israel, and manasseh on the right side of his father israel, which took his right hand and laid it on the head of ephraim the younger brother, and his left hand on the head of manasseh which was first born. then jacob blessed the sons of joseph and said: god, in whose sight walked my fathers abraham and isaac, god that hath fed me from my youth unto this present day, the angel that hath kept me from all evil bless these children, and my name be called on them, and the names of my fathers abraham and isaac, and grow they into multitude upon earth. then joseph seeing that his father set his right hand upon the head of ephraim the younger brother took it heavily, and took his father's hand and would have laid it on the head of manasseh, and said to his father; nay father, it is not convenient, that ye do, this is the first begotten son, set thy right hand on his head. which renied that and would not do so, but said: i wot, my son, i wot what i do, and this son shall increase into peoples and multiply, but his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his seed shall grow into gentiles, and blessed them, saying that same time: in thee shall be blessed israel, and shall be said: god make thee like to ephraim and manasseh. and he said to joseph his son: lo! now i die and god shall be with you, and shall reduce and bring you again into the land of your fathers; and i give to thee one part above thy brethren, which i gat and won from the hand of the amorite with my sword and my bow. then jacob called his sons tofore him and said to them: gather ye altogether tofore me, that i may show to you things that be to come, and hear your father israel. and there he told to each of them his condition singularly. and when he had blessed his twelve sons he commanded them to bury him with his fathers in a double spelunke which is in the field of ephron the hittite against mamre in the land of canaan which abraham bought. and this said he gathered to him his feet and died. which anon as joseph saw, he fell on his visage and kissed him. he commanded to his masters of physic and medicines, which were his servants, that they should embalm the body of his father with sweet spices aromatic; which was all done, and then went they sorrowing him forty days. the egyptians wailed him seventy days, and when the wailing was past, joseph did say to pharaoh how he had sworn and promised to bury him in the land of canaan. to whom pharaoh said: go and bury thy father like as thou hast sworn. which then took his father's body and went, and with him were accompanied all the aged men of pharaoh's house, and the noblest men of birth of all the land of egypt, the house of joseph with his brethren, without the young children, flocks and beasts, which they left in the land of goshen. he had in his fellowship chariots, carts and horsemen, and was a great tourbe and company, and came over jordan where as they hallowed the exequies by great wailing seven days long. and when they of the country saw this plaint and sorrowing they said: this is a great sorrow to the egyptians. and that same place is named yet the bewailing of egypt. the children of israel did as they were commanded, and bare him into the land of canaan, and buried him in the double spelunke which abraham had bought. then when jacob the father was buried, joseph with all his fellowship returned into egypt. then his brethren after the death of their father spake together privily, and dreading that joseph would avenge the wrong and evil that they had done to him, came to him and said: thy father commanded us ere he died that we should say thus to thee: we pray thee that thou wilt forget, and not remember the sin and trespass of thy brethren, ne the malice that they executed in thee. we beseech thee that thou wilt forgive to thy father, servant of god, this wickedness. which when joseph heard he wept bitterly, and his brethren came to him kneeling low to the ground and worshipped him, and said, we be thy servants. to whom he answered: be ye nothing afeard ne dread you not, ween ye that ye may resist god's will? ye thought to have done to me evil, but god hath turned it into good, and hath exalted me as ye see and know, that he should save much people. be ye nothing afeard, i shall feed you and your children. and comforted them with fair words, and spake friendly and joyously to them. and he abode and dwelled still in egypt with all the house of his father, and lived an hundred and ten years, and saw the sons of ephraim in to the third generation. after these things he said to his brethren: after my death, god shall visit you and shall do you depart from this land unto the land that he promised to abraham, isaac, and jacob. when that time shall come, take my bones and lead them with you from this place, and then died. whose body was embalmed with sweet spices and aromatics and laid in a chest in egypt. here next followeth the history of moses _which is read in-the church on mid-lent sunday_ these be the names of the children of israel that entered into egypt with jacob, and each entered with their household and meiny. reuben, simeon, levi, judah, issachar, zebulon, benjamin, dan, naphtali, gad, and asher; they were all in number that entered seventy. joseph was tofore in egypt. and when he was dead and all his brethren and kindred, the children of israel grew and multiplied greatly, and filled the earth. then was there a new king upon egypt which knew nothing of joseph, and said to his people: lo! and see the people of israel is great, and stronger than we be, come and let us wisely oppress them, lest they multiply and give us battle and fight with us and drive us out of our land. then he ordained provosts and masters over them to set them awork and put them to affliction of burdens. they builded to pharaoh two towns, pithom and raamses. how much more they oppressed them, so much the more they increased and multiplied. the egyptians hated the children of israel and put them to affliction, scorning and having envy at them, and oppressed bitterly their life with hard work and sore labors of tile and clay, and grieved all them in such works. then pharaoh commanded to his people saying: whatsomever is born of males cast ye into the river, and what of women keep ye them and let ye them live. after this was a man of the house of levi went out and took a wife of his kindred, which conceived and brought forth a son, and he saw him elegant and fair, and hid him three months, and when he might no longer hide him, took a little crib of rushes and wickers and pitched it with glue and pitch, and put therein the child, and set it on the river, and let it drive down in the stream, and the sister of the child standing afar, considering what should fall thereof. and it happed that same time, the daughter of king pharaoh descended down to the river for to wash her in the water, and her maidens went by the brink, which then, when she saw the little crib or fiscelle she sent one of her maidens to fetch and take it up, which so fetched and brought to her, and she saw therein lying a fair child; and she having pity on it said: this is one of the children of the hebrews. to whom anon spake the sister of the child: wilt thou, said she, that i go and call thee a woman of the hebrews that shall and may nourish this child? she answered: go thy way. the maid went and called his mother, to whom pharaoh's daughter said: take this child and nourish him to me, and i shall give to thee thy meed and reward. the mother took her child and nourished it, and when it was weaned and could go she delivered it to the daughter of king pharaoh, whom she received and adopted instead of a son and named him moses, saying that i took him out of the water. and he there grew and waxed a pretty child. and as josephus, antiquitatum, saith: this daughter of pharaoh, which was named termuthe, loved well moses and reputed him as her son by adoption, and on a day brought him to her father, who for his beauty took him in his arms and made much of him, and set his diadem on his head, wherein was his idol. and moses anon took it, and cast it under his feet and trod on it, wherefore the king was wroth, and demanded of the great doctors and magicians what should fall of this child. and they kalked on his nativity and said: this is he that shall destroy thy reign and put it under foot, and shall rule and govern the hebrews. wherefore the king anon decreed that he should be put to death. but others said that moses did it of childhood and ought not to die therefore, and counselled to make thereof a proof, and so they did. they set tofore him a platter full of coals burning, and a platter full of cherries, and bade him eat, and he took and put the hot coals in his mouth and burned his tongue, which letted his speech ever after; and thus he escaped the death. josephus saith that when pharaoh would have slain him, termuthe, his daughter, plucked him away and saved him. then on a time as moses was full grown, he went to his brethren, and saw the affliction of them, and a man of egypt smiting one of the hebrews, his brethren. and he looked hither and thither and saw no man. he smote the egyptian and slew him and hid him in the sand. and another day he went out and found two of the hebrews brawling and fighting together; then he said to him that did wrong: why smitest thou thy neighbor? which answered: who hath ordained thee prince and judge upon us? wilt thou slay me as thou slewest that other day an egyptian? moses was afeard and said to himself: how is this deed known and made open? pharaoh heard hereof and sought moses for to slay him, which then fled from his sight and dwelled in the land of midian, and sat there by a pit side. the priest of midian had seven daughters which came thither for to draw water, and to fill the vessels for to give drink to the flocks of the sheep of their father. then came on them the herdmen and put them from it. then rose moses and defended the maidens and let them water their sheep, which then returned to their father jethro. and he said to them: why come ye now earlier than ye were wont to do? they said that a man of egypt hath delivered us from the hand of the herdmen, and also he drew water for us and gave to the sheep drink. where is he, said he, why left ye the man after you? go call him that he may eat some bread with us. then moses sware that he would dwell with him. and he took zipporah one of his daughters aad wedded her to his wife, which conceived and bare him a son whom he called gershom, saying: i was a stranger in a strange land. she brought to him forth another son whom he named eleazar, saying: the god of my father is my helper and hath kept me from the hand of pharaoh. long time after this died the king of egypt, and the children of israel, wailing, made great sorrow for the oppression of their labor, and cried unto god for help. their cry came unto god of their works, and god heard their wailing, and remembered the promise he made with abraham, isaac, and jacob, and our lord beheld the children of israel and knew them. moses fed the sheep of jethro his wife's father. when he had brought the sheep into the innermost part of the desert he came unto the mount of god, oreb. our lord appeared to him in flame of fire in the midst of a bush, and he saw the fire in the bush, and the bush burned not. then said moses, i shall go and see this great vision why the bush burneth not. our lord then beholding that he went for to see it, called him, being in the bush, and said: moses, moses, which answered: i am here. then said our lord: approach no nearer hitherward. take off thy shoon from thy feet, the place that thou standest on is holy ground. and said also: i am god of thy fathers, god of abraham, and god of isaac, and god of jacob. moses then hid his face, and durst not look toward god. to whom god said: i have seen the affliction of my people in egypt, and i have heard their cry of the hardness that they suffer in their works, and i knowing the sorrow of them am descended to deliver them from the hand of the egyptians, and shall lead them from this land into a good land and spacious, into a land that floweth milk and honey, unto the places of canaanites, hittites, amorites, perizzites, hivites and jebusites. the cry of the children of israel is come to me, i have seen their affliction, how they be oppressed of the egyptians. but come to me and i shall send thee unto pharaoh that thou shalt lead the children of israel out of egypt. then moses said to him: who am i that shall go to pharaoh and lead the children out of egypt? to whom god said: i shall be with thee, and this shall be the sign that i send thee. when thou shalt have led out my people of egypt, thou shalt offer to god upon this hill. moses said unto god: lo! if i go to the children of israel and say to them: god of your fathers hath sent me to you; if they say: what is his name? what shall i say? our lord said to moses: i am that i am. he said: thus shalt thou say to the children of israel: he that is, sent me to you, and yet shalt thou say to them: the lord god of your fathers, god of abraham, god of isaac, and god of jacob, hath appeared to me saying: this is my name for evermore, and this is my memorial from generation to generation. go and gather together the seniors and aged men of israel, and say to them: the lord god of your fathers hath appeared to me, god of abraham, god of isaac, and god of jacob, saying: visiting i have visited you, and have seen all that is fallen in egypt, and i shall lead you out of the affliction of egypt into the land of canaan, ethei, etc., unto the land flowing milk and honey, and they shall hear thy voice. thou shalt go and take with thee the seniors of israel to the king of egypt, and shalt say to him: the lord god of the hebrews hath called us; we shall go the journey of three days in wilderness that we may offer to our lord god. but i know well that the king of egypt shall not suffer you to go but by strong hand. i shall stretch out my hand and shall smite egypt in all my marvels that i shall do amid among them. after that he shall let you go. i shall then give my grace to this people tofore the egyptians, and when ye shall go out ye shall not depart void, nor with nought, but every woman shall borrow of her neighbor, and of her hostess, vessels of silver and of gold, and clothes, and them shall ye lay on your sons, and on your daughters, and ye shall rob egypt. then moses answered and said: they shall not believe me ne hear my voice, but shall say: god hath not appeared to thee. god said then to him: what is that thou holdest in thine hand? he answered: a rod. our lord said: cast it on the ground. he threw it down and it turned into a serpent, whereof moses was afeard and would have fled. our lord said to him: put forth thy hand and hold him by the tail; he stretched forth his hand and held him, and it turned again into a rod. to this, that they believe thee, that i have appeared to thee. and yet our lord said to him: put thy hand into thy bosom, which, when he hath put in, and drawn out again, it was like a leper's hand. our lord bade him to withdraw it into his bosom again, and he drew it out and it was then like that other flesh. if they hear not thee, and believe by the first sign and token, they shall believe thee by the second. if they believe none of the two ne hear thy voice, then take water of the river and pour on the dry ground, and whatsoever thou takest and drawest shall turn into blood. then moses said: i pray the lord send some other, for i am not eloquent, but have a letting in my speech. our lord said to him: who made the mouth of a man, or who hath made a man dumb or deaf, seeing or blind, not i? go, therefore, i shall be in thy mouth and shall teach thee what thou shalt say. then said moses: i beseech thee lord, said he, send some other whom thou wilt. our lord was wroth on moses and said: aaron thy brother deacon, i know that he is eloquent, lo! he shall come and meet with thee, and seeing thee he shall be glad in his heart. speak thou to him and put my words in his mouth, and i shall be in thy mouth and in his mouth, and i shall show to you what ye ought to do, and he shall speak for the people, and shall be thy mouth, and thou shalt be in such things as pertain to god. take with thee this rod in thine hand, by which thou shalt do signs and marvels. then moses went to jethro his wife's father, and said to him, i shall go and return to my brethren into egypt, and see if they yet live. to whom jethro said: go in god's name and place. then said our lord to moses: go and return into egypt, all they be now dead that sought for to slay thee. then moses took his wife and his sons and set them upon an ass and returned in to egypt, bearing the rod of god in his hand. then our lord said to aaron: go against moses and meet with him in desert; which went for to meet with him unto the mount of god, and there kissed him. and moses told unto aaron all that our lord had said to him for which he sent him, and all the tokens and signs that he bade him do. they came both together and gathered and assembled all the seniors and aged men of the children of israel. and aaron told to them all that god had said to moses, and made the signs and tokens tofore the people and the people believed it. they heard well that our lord had visited the children of israel, and that he had beholden the affliction of them, wherefore they fell down low to the ground and worshipped our lord. after this moses and aaron went unto pharaoh and said: this saith the lord god of israel: suffer my people to depart that they may sacrifice to me in desert. then said pharaoh: who is that lord that i may hear his voice and leave israel? i know not that lord, nor i will not leave israel. they said to him: god of the hebrews hath called us that we go the journey of three days in the wilderness and sacrifice unto our lord god, lest peradventure pestilence or war fall to us. the king of egypt said to them: why solicit ye, moses and aaron, the people from their works and labor? go ye unto your work. pharaoh also said: the people is much, see how they grow and multiply, and yet much more shall do if they rested from their labor. therefore he commanded the same day to the prefects and masters of their works saying: in no wise give no more chaff to the people for to make loam and clay, but let them go and gather stubble, and make them do as much labor as they did tofore, and lessen it nothing. they do now but cry: let us go and make sacrifice to our god, let them be oppressed by labor and exercised that they attend not to leasings. then the prefects and masters of their work said to them that pharaoh had commanded to give them no chaff, but they should go and gather such as they might find, and that their work should not therefore be minished. then the children were disperpled for to gather chaff, and their masters awaited on them and bade them: make an end of your work as ye were wont to do when that chaff was delivered to you. and thus they were put to more affliction, and would make them to make as many tiles as they did tofore. then the upperest of the children of israel came to pharaoh and complained saying: why puttest thou thy servants to such affliction? he said to them: ye be so idle that ye say ye will go and sacrifice to your god; ye shall have no chaff given to you, yet ye shall work your customable work and gather your chaff also. then the eldest and the upperest among the hebrews went to moses and aaron and said: what have ye done? ye have so done that ye have made our odor to stink in the sight of pharaoh, and have encouraged him to slay us. then moses counselled with our lord how he should do, and said: lord, why hast thou sent me hither? for, sith i have spoken to pharaoh in thy name, he hath put thy people to more affliction than they had tofore, and thou hast not delivered them. our lord said to moses: now thou shalt see what i shall do to pharaoh. by strong hand he shall let you go, and in a boistous he shall cast you from his land. yet said our lord to moses: i am the lord god that appeared to abraham, isaac, and jacob in my might, and my name is adonai, i showed to them not that. i promised and made covenant with them that i should give to them the land of canaan in which they dwelled. i now have heard the wailing and the tribulations that the egyptians oppress them with, for which i shall deliver and bring them from the servitude of the egyptians. moses told all these things to the children of israel, and they believed him not for the anguish of their spirits that they were in, and hard labor. then said our lord to moses: go and enter in to pharaoh and bid him deliver my people of israel out of his land. moses answered: how should pharaoh hear me when the children of israel believe me not? then our lord said to moses and aaron that they both should go to pharaoh and give him in commandment to let the children of israel to depart. and he said to moses: lo! i have ordained thee to be god of pharaoh, and aaron thy brother shall be thy prophet. thou shalt say to him all that i say to thee, and he shall say to pharaoh that he suffer the children of israel to depart from his land. but i shall enhard his heart, and shall multiply my signs and tokens in the land of egypt, and he shall not hear ne believe you. and i shall lead the children of israel my people. and shall show mine hand, and such wonders on egypt, that egyptians shall know that i am the lord. moses and aaron did as our lord commanded them. moses was eighty years old when he came and stood tofore pharaoh, and aaron eighty-three years when they spake to pharaoh. then when they were tofore pharaoh, aaron cast the rod down, tofore pharaoh, and anon the rod turned into a serpent. then pharaoh called his magicians and jugglers and bade them do the same. and they made their witchcraft and invocations and cast down their rods, which turned in likewise into serpents, but the rod of aaron devoured their rods. yet was the heart of pharaoh hard and so indurate that he would not do as god bade. then said our lord to moses: the heart of pharaoh is grieved and will not deliver my people. go to him to-morn in the morning and he shall come out, and thou shalt stand when he cometh on the bank of the river, and take in thine hand the rod that was turned into the serpent, and say to him: the lord god of the hebrews sendeth me to thee saying: deliver my people that they may offer and make sacrifice to me in desert, yet thou hast no will to hear me. therefore our lord said: in this shalt thou know that i am the lord: lo! i shall smite with the rod that is in my hand the water of the flood, and it shall turn into blood; the fishes that be in the water shall die, and the egyptians shall be put to affliction drinking of it. then said our lord to moses: say thou to aaron: take this rod and stretch thine hand upon all the waters of egypt, upon the floods, rivers, ponds, and upon all the lakes where any water is, in that they turn to blood, that it may be a vengeance in all the land of egypt, as well in treen vessels as in vessels of earth and stone. moses and aaron did as god had commanded them, and smote the flood with the rod tofore pharaoh and his servants, which turned into blood, and the fishes that were in the river died, and the water was corrupt. and the egyptians might not drink the water, and all the water of egypt was turned into blood. and in likewise did the enchanters with their witchcraft, and the heart of pharaoh was so indurate that he would not let the people depart as our lord had commanded, but he returned home for this time. the egyptians went and dolven pits for water all about by the river, and they found no water to drink but all was blood. and this plague endured seven days, and whatsomever water the children of israel took in this while was fair and good water. this was the first plague and vengeance. the second was that god sent frogs so many, that all the land was full, the rivers, the houses, chambers, beds, that they were woebegone, and these frogs entered into their meat, so many that they covered all the land of egypt. then pharaoh prayed moses and aaron that god would take away these frogs, and that he would go suffer the people to do sacrifice; and then moses asked when he would deliver them if the frogs were voided, and pharaoh said: in the morn. and then moses prayed, and they voided all. and when pharaoh saw that he was quit of them, he kept not his promise and would not let them depart. the third vengeance that god sent to them was a great multitude of hungry horse-flies, as many as the dust of the earth, which were on men, and bit them and beasts. and then enchanters said then to pharaoh: this is the finger of god. yet would not pharaoh let them depart. the fourth vengeance was that god sent all manner kind of flies and lice in such wise that the universal land of egypt was full of all manner flies and lice, but in the land of goshen were none. yet was he so indurate that he would not let them go, but would that they should make their sacrifice to god in that land. but moses would not so, but would go three days' journey in desert, and sacrifice to god there. pharaoh said: i will that ye go into desert, but not far, and come soon again, and pray ye for me. and moses prayed for him to our lord, and the flies voided that there was not one left. and when they were gone pharaoh would not keep his promise. then the fifth plague was that god showed his hand upon the fields and upon the horses, asses, camels, sheep and oxen, and was a great pestilence on all the beasts. and god showed a wonder miracle between the possessions of the egyptians and the possessions of his people of israel, for of the beasts of the children of israel there was not one that perished. yet was pharaoh so hard-hearted that he would not suffer the people to depart. the sixth plague was that moses took ashes out of the chimney and cast on the land. and anon all the people of egypt, as well men as beasts, were full of blotches, boils, and blains and wounds, and swellings in such wise that the enchanters could ne might not stand for pain tofore pharaoh. yet would not pharaoh hear them, nor do as god had commanded. the seventh plague was a hail so great that there was never none like tofore, and thunder and fire that it destroyed all the grass and herbs of egypt and smote down all that was in the field, men and beasts. but in the land of goshen was none heard ne harm done. yet would not pharaoh deliver them. the eighth our lord sent to them locusts, which is a manner great fly, called in some place an adder-bolte, which bit them and ate up all the corn and herbs that was left, in such wise that the people came to pharaoh and desired him to deliver, saying that the land perished. then pharaoh gave to the men license to go and make their sacrifice, and leave their wives and children there still, till they came again, but moses and aaron said they must go all, wherefore he would not let them depart. the ninth plague and vengeance was that god sent so great darkness upon all the land of egypt that the darkness was so great and horrible that they were palpable, and it endured three days and three nights. wheresoever the children of israel went it was light. then pharaoh called moses and aaron and said to them: go ye and make your sacrifice unto your lord god, and let your sheep and beasts only abide. to whom moses said: we shall take with us such hosties and sacrifices as we shall offer to our lord god. all our flocks and beasts shall go with us, there shall not remain as much as a nail that shall be necessary in the honor of our lord god, for we know not what we shall offer till we come to the place. pharaoh was so indurate and hard-hearted that he would not let them go, and bade moses that he should no more come in his sight. for when thou comest thou shalt die. moses answered: be it as thou hast said: i shall no more come to thy presence. and then our lord said to moses: there resteth now but one plague and vengeance, and after that he shall let you go. but first say to all the people that every man borrow of his friend, and woman of her neighbor, vessels of gold and silver, and clothes; our lord shall give to his people grace and favor to borrow of the egyptians; and then gave to them a commandment how they should depart. and our lord said to moses: at midnight i shall enter into egypt and the first-begotten child and heir of all egypt shall die, from the first-begotten son of pharaoh that sitteth in his throne unto the first-begotten son of the handmaid that sitteth at the mill, and all the first-begotten of the beasts. there shall be a great cry and clamor in all the land of egypt in such wise that there was never none like, ne never shall be after, and among all the children there shall not an hound be hurt, ne woman, ne beast, whereby ye shall know by what miracle god divideth the egyptian and israel. moses and aaron showed all these signs and plagues tofore pharaoh, and his heart was so indurate that he would not let them depart. then when moses had said to the children how they should do, they departed, and ate their paschal lamb, and all other ceremonies as be expressed in the bible, for a law to endure ever among them, which the children of israel obeyed and accomplished, it was so that at midnight our lord smote and slew every first-begotten son throughout all the land of egypt, beginning at the first son and heir of pharaoh unto the son of the caitiff that lay in prison, and also the first-begotten of the beasts. pharaoh arose in the night and all his servants and all egypt, and there was a great clamor and sorrowful noise and cry, for there was not a house in all egypt but there lay therein one that was dead. then pharaoh did do call moses and aaron in the night, and said: arise ye and go your way from my people, ye and the children of israel, as ye say ye will, take your sheep and beasts with you like as ye desired, and at your departing bless ye me. the egyptians constrained the children to depart and go their way hastily, saying: we all shall die. the children of israel took their meal, and put it on their shoulders as they were commanded, and borrowed vessels of silver and of gold, and much clothing. our lord gave to them such favor tofore the egyptians that the egyptians lent to them all that they desired, and they spoiled and robbed egypt. and so the children of israel departed, nigh the number of six hundred thousand footmen, besides women and children which were innumerable, and an huge great multitude of beasts of divers kinds. the time that the children of israel had dwelt in egypt was four hundred years. and so they departed out of egypt, and went not the right way by the philistines, but our lord led them by the way of desert which is by the red sea. and the children descended out of egypt armed. moses took with him the bones of joseph for he charged them so to do when he died. they went in the extreme ends of the wilderness, and our lord went tofore them by day in a column of a cloud, and by night in a column of fire and was their leader and duke; the pillar of the cloud failed never by day, nor the pillar of fire by night tofore the people. our lord said to moses, i shall make his heart so hard that he shall follow and pursue you, and i shall be glorified in pharaoh, and in all his host, the egyptians shall know that i am lord. and anon it was told to pharaoh that the children of israel fled, and anon his heart was changed, and also the heart of his servants, and said: what shall we do, shall we suffer the children to depart and no more to serve us? forthwith he took his chariot and all his people with him. he took with him six hundred chosen chariots, and all the chariots and wains of egypt, and the dukes of all his hosts and he pursued the children of israel and followed them in great pride. and when he approached, that the children of israel saw him come, they were sore afraid and cried to our lord god, and said to moses: was there not sepulchre enough for us in egypt but that we must now die in wilderness? said we not to thee: go from us and let us serve the egyptians: it had been much better for us to have served the egyptians than to die here in wilderness. and moses said to the people: be ye not afraid, stand and see ye the great wonders that our lord shall do for you this day. the egyptians that ye now see, ye shall never see them after this day. god shall fight for you, and be ye still. our lord said then to moses: what criest thou to me? say to the children of israel that they go forth. take thou and raise the rod, and stretch thy hand upon the sea, and depart it that the children of israel may go dry through the middle of it. i shall so indurate the heart of pharaoh that he shall follow you, and all the egyptians, and i shall be glorified in pharaoh, and in all his host, his carts and horsemen. and the egyptians shall know that i am lord when i shall so be glorified. the angel of god went tofore the castles of israel, and another came after in the cloud which stood between them of egypt and the children of israel. and the cloud was dark that the host of israel might not come to them of all the night. then moses stretched his hand upon the sea, and there came a wind blowing in such wise that it waxed dry, and the children of israel went in through the midst of the red sea all dry foot; for the water stood up as a wall on the right side and on the left side. the egyptians then pursuing them followed and entered after them, and all the carts, chariots and horsemen, through the middle of the sea. and then our lord beheld that the children of israel were passed over and were on the dry land, on that other side. anon turned the water on them, and the wheels on their carts turned up so down, and drowned all the host of pharaoh, and sank down into the deep of the sea. then said the egyptians: let us flee israel; the lord fighteth for them against us. and our lord said to moses: stretch out thine hand upon the sea, and let the water return upon the egyptians, and upon their chariots and horsemen. and so moses stretched out his hand and the sea returned in to his first place. and then the egyptians would have fled, but the water came and overflowed them in the midst of the flood, and it covered the chariots and horsemen, and all the host of pharaoh, and there was not one saved of them. and the children of israel had passed through the middle of the dry sea and came a-land. thus delivered our lord the children of israel from the hand of the egyptians, and they saw the egyptians lying dead upon the brinks of the sea. and the people then dreaded our lord and believed in him, and to moses his servant. then moses and the children of israel sang this song to our lord: cantemus domino magnificatus est, let us sing to our lord, he is magnified, he hath overthrown the horsemen and carmen in the sea. and miriam the sister of aaron, a prophetess, took a timpane in her hand, and all the women followed her with timpanes and chords, and she went tofore singing cantemus domino. then moses brought the children of israel from the sea into the desert of sur, and walked with them three days and three nights and found no water, and came into marah, and the waters there were so bitter that they might not drink thereof. then the people grudged against moses, saying: what shall we drink? and he cried unto our lord which showed to him a tree which he took and put into the waters, and anon they were turned into sweetness. there our lord ordained commandments and judgments, and there he tempted him saying: if thou hearest the voice of thy lord-god, and that thou do is rightful before him, and obeyest his commandments, and keep his precepts, i shall not bring none of the languors ne sorrows upon thee that i did in egypt. i am lord thy saviour. then the children of israel came in to elim, where as were twelve fountains of water, and seventy palm trees, and they abode by the waters. then from thence went all the multitude of the children of israel into the desert of sin, which is between elim and sinai, and grudged against moses and aaron in that wilderness, and said: would god we had dwelled still in egypt, whereas we sat and had plenty of bread and flesh; why have ye brought us into the desert for to slay all this multitude by hunger? our lord said then to moses: i shall rain bread to you from heaven, let the people go out and gather every day that i may prove them whether they walk in my law or not; the sixth day let them gather double as much as they gather in one day of the other. then said moses and aaron to all the children of israel: at even ye shall know that god hath brought you from the land of egypt, and to-morn ye shall see the glory of our lord. i have well heard your murmur against our lord, what have ye mused against us? what be we? and yet said moses; our lord shall give you at even flesh for to eat and to-morn bread unto your fill, for as much as ye have murmured against him; what be we? your murmur is not against us but against our lord. as aaron spake to all the company of the children of israel they beheld toward the wilderness, and our lord spake to moses in a cloud and said: i have heard the grudgings of the children of israel; say to them: at even ye shall eat flesh and to-morn ye shall be filled with bread, and ye shall know that i am your lord god. and when the even was come there came so many curlews that it covered all their lodgings, and on the morn there lay like dew all about in their circuit. which when they saw and came for to gather, it was small and white like to coriander. and they wondered on it and said: mahun, that is as much to say, what is this? to whom moses said: this is the bread that god hath sent you to eat, and god commandeth that every man should gather as much for every head as is the measure of gomor, and let nothing be left till on the morn. and the sixth day gather ye double so much, that is two measures of gomor, and keep that one measure for the sabbath, which god hath sanctified and commanded you to hallow it. yet some of them brake god's commandment, and gathered more than they ate and kept it till on the morn, and then it began to putrify and be full of worms. and that they kept for the sabbath day was good and putrified not. and thus our lord fed the children of israel forty years in the desert. and it was called manna. moses took one gomor thereof and put it in the tabernacle for to be kept for a perpetual memory and remembrance. then went they forth all the multitude of the children of israel, in the desert of sin in their mansions and came, to rephidim, where as they had no water. then all grudging they said to moses, give us water for to drink. to whom moses answered: what grudge ye against me, why tempt ye our lord? the people thirsted sore for lack and penury of water saying: why hast thou brought us out of egypt for to slay us and our children and beasts? then moses cried unto our lord saying: what shall i do to this people? i trow within a while they shall stone me to death. then our lord said to moses: go before the people and take with thee the older men and seniors of israel, and take the rod that thou smotest with the flood in thy hand, and i shall stand tofore upon the stone of oreb, and smite thou the stone with the rod and the waters shall come out thereof that the people may drink. moses did so tofore the seniors of israel and called that place temptation, because of the grudge of the children of israel, and said: is god with us or not? then came amalek and fought against the children of israel in rephidim. moses said then to joshua: choose to thee men, and go out and fight against amalek to-morrow. i shall stand on the top of the hill having the rod of god in my hand: joshua did as moses commanded him, and fought against amalek. moses, aaron, and hur ascended into the hill, and when moses held up his hands, israel won and overcame their enemies, and when he laid them down then amalek had the better. the hands of moses were heavy; aaron and hur took then a stone and put it under them, and they sustained his hands on either side, and so his hands were not weary until the going down of the sun. and so joshua made amalek to flee, and his people, by strength of his sword. our lord said to moses: write this for a remembrance in a book and deliver it to the ears of joshua; i shall destroy and put away the memory of amalek under heaven. moses then edified an altar unto our lord, and called there on the name of our lord, saying: the lord is mine exaltation, for this is the hand only of god, and the battle and god shall be against amalek from generation to generation. when jethro the priest of midian, which was cousin of moses, heard say what our lord had done to moses and to the children of israel his people, he took zipporah the wife of moses, and his two sons, gershom and eleazar and came with them to him into desert, whom moses received with worship and kissed him. and when they were together moses told him all what our lord had done to pharaoh and to the egyptians for israel, and all the labor that they endured and how our lord had delivered them. jethro was glad for all these things, that god had so saved them from the hands of the egyptians and said: blessed be the lord that hath delivered you from the hand of the egyptians and of pharaoh, and hath saved his people; now i know that he is a great lord above all gods, because they did so proudly against them. and jethro offered sacrifices and offerings to our lord. aaron and all the seniors of israel came and eat with him tofore our lord. the next day moses sat and judged and deemed the people from morning unto evening, which, when his cousin saw, he said to him: what doest thou? why sittest thou alone and all the people tarry from the morning until evening? to whom moses answered: the people came to me demanding sentence and the doom of god; when there is any debate or difference among them they come to me to judge them, and to show to them the precepts and the laws of god. then said jethro: thou dost not well nor wisely, for by folly thou consumest thy self, and the people with thee; thou dost above thy might, thou mayst not alone sustain it, but hear me and do there after, and our lord shall be with thee. be thou unto the people in those things that appertain to god, that thou tell to them what they should do, and the ceremonies and rites to worship god, and the way by which they should go, and what work they shall do. provide of all people wise men and dreading god, in whom is truth, and them that hate avarice and covetise, and ordain of them tribunes and centurions and deans that may in all times judge the people. and if there be of a great charge and weight, let it be referred to thee, and let them judge the small things; it shall be the easier to thee to bear the charge when it is so parted. if thou do so, thou shalt fulfil the commandment of god, and sustain his precepts, and the people shall go home to their places in peace. which things when moses had heard and understood, he did all that he had counselled him, and chose out the strongest and wisest people of all israel and ordained them princes of the people, tribunes, centurions, quinquagenaries, and deans, which at all times should judge and deem the people. and all the great and weighty matters they referred to him, deeming and judging the small causes. and then his cousin departed and went into his country. the third month after the children of israel departed out of egypt, that same day they came into the wilderness of sinai, and there about the region of the mount they fixed their tents. moses ascended into the hill unto god. god called him on the hill and said: this shalt thou say to the house of jacob and to the children of israel. ye yourselves have seen what i have done to the egyptians, and how i have borne you on the wings of eagles and have taken you to me. if ye therefore hear my voice and keep my covenant, ye shall be to me in the reign of priesthood and holy people. these be the words that thou shalt say to the children of israel. moses came down and gathered all the most of birth, and expounded in them all the words that our lord had commanded him. all the people answered: all that ever our lord hath said we shall do, when moses had showed the people the words of our lord, our lord said to him: now i shall come to thee in a cloud that the people may hear me speaking to thee, that they believe thee ever after. moses went and told this to the people, and our lord bade them to sanctify the people this day and to-morrow, and let them wash their clothes, and be ready the third day. the third day our lord shall descend tofore all the people on the mount of sinai. and ordain to the people the marks and terms in the circuit. and say to them: beware that ye ascend not on the hill ne touch the ends of it. whosoever touched the hill shall die by death, there shall no hand touch him, but with stones he shall be oppressed and with casting of them on him he shall be tolben; whether it be man or beast, he shall not live. when thou hearest the trump blown then ascend to the hill. moses went down to the people and sanctified and hallowed them, and when they had washen their clothes he said to them: be ye ready at the third day and approach not your wives; when the third day came, and the morning waxed clear, they heard thunder and lightning and saw a great cloud cover the mount, and the cry of the trump was so shrill that the people were sore afraid. when moses had brought them forth unto the root of the hill they stood there. all the mount of sinai smoked, for so much as our lord descended on it in fire, and the smoke ascended from the hill as it had been from a furnace. the mount was terrible and dreadful, and the sound of the trump grew a little more and continued longer. moses spake and our lord answered him. our lord descended upon the top of the mount of sinai, even on the top of it, and called moses to him, which when he came said to him: go down and charge the people that they come not to the terms of the hill for to see the lord, for if they do, much multitude shall perish of them. the priests that shall come let them be sanctified lest they be smitten down. and thou and aaron shall ascend the hill. all the people and priests let them not pass their bounds lest god smite them. then moses descended and told to the people all that our lord hath said. after this our lord called moses and said: i am the lord god that brought you out of egypt and of thraldom. and gave him the commandment first by speaking and many ceremonies as be rehearsed in the bible, which is not requisite to be written here, but the ten commandments every man is bounden to know. and ere moses received them written, he went up into the mount of sinai, and fasted there forty days and forty nights ere he received them. in which time he commanded him to make many things, and to ordain the laws and ceremonies which now be not had in the new law. and also as doctors say, moses learned that time all the histories tofore written of the making of heaven and earth, of adam, noah, abraham, isaac, jacob, and of joseph with his brethren. and at last delivered to him two tables of stone, both written with the hand of god, which follow. the first commandment that god commanded is this. thou shalt not worship no strange ne diverse gods. the second commandment is this, that thou shalt not take the name of god in vain, that is to say, thou shalt not swear by him for nothing. the third commandment is that thou have mind and remember that thou hallow and keep holy thy sabbath day or sunday. these three commandments be written in the first table and appertain only to god. the fourth commandment is that thou shalt honor and worship thy father and mother, for thou shalt live the longer on earth. the fifth commandment is that thou shalt slay no man. the sixth commandment is, thou shalt not do adultery. the seventh commandment is that thou shalt do no theft. the eighth commandment is that thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. the ninth commandment is that thou shalt not desire the wife of thy neighbor, nor shalt not covet her in thine heart. the tenth commandment is that thou shalt not covet nothing that is, or longeth to, thy neighbor. these be the ten commandments of our lord, of which the three first belong to god, and the seven other be ordained for our neighbors. every person that hath wit and understanding in himself, and age, is bound to know them and to obey and keep these ten commandments aforesaid or else he sinneth deadly. thus moses abode in the hill forty days and forty nights and received of almighty god the tables with the commandments written with the hand of god; and also received and learned many ceremonies and statutes that god ordained, by which the children of israel should be ruled and judged. and whiles that moses was thus with our lord on the mount, the children of israel saw that he tarried and descended not, and some of them said that he was dead or gone away, and would not return again, and some said nay; but in conclusion they gathered them together against aaron, and said to him: make to us some gods that may go tofore us, we know not what is befallen to moses. then aaron said: take the gold that hangeth in the ears of your wives and your children, and bring it to me. the people did as he bade, and brought the gold to aaron, which he took and molt it and made thereof a calf. then they said: these be thy gods, israel, that brought thee out of the land of egypt. then the people made an altar tofore it, and made great joy and mirth, and danced and played tofore the calf, and offered and made sacrifices thereto. our lord spake to moses, saying: go hence and descend down, thy people have sinned whom thou hast brought forth from the land of egypt. they have soon forsaken and left the way which thou hast showed to them. they have made to them a calf blown, and they have worshipped it, and offered sacrifices thereto, saying: these be thy gods, israel, that have brought thee out of the land of egypt, yet said our lord to moses: i see well that this people is of evil disposition, suffer me that i may wreak my wrath on them, and i shall destroy them. i shall make thee governor of great people. moses then prayed our lord god saying: why art thou wroth, lord, against thy people that thou hast brought out of the land of egypt in a great strength and a boisterous hand? i beseech thee, lord, let not the egyptians say that their god hath locked them out for to slay them in the mountains. i pray thee lord that thy wrath may assuage, and be thou pleased and benign upon the wickedness of thy people. remember abraham, isaac, and jacob thy servants, to whom thou promisedst and swaredst by thyself saying: i shall multiply your seed as the stars of heaven, and the universal, land of which i have spoken i shall give to your seed, and ye shall possess and have it ever. and with these words our lord was pleased that he would do no harm as he had said unto his people; and moses returned from the mount, bearing two tables of stone, written both with the hand of god. and the scripture that was in the tables were the ten commandments as fore be written. joshua hearing the great noise of the children of israel said to moses: i trow they fight beneath, which answered and said: it is no cry of exhorting men to fight, ne noise to compel me to flee, but i hear the noise of singing. when he approached to them he saw the calf and the instruments of mirth, and he was so wroth that he threw down the tables and brake them at the foot of the hill, and ran and caught down the calf that they had made, and burnt and smote it all to powder, which he cast into water and gave it to drink to the children of israel. then said moses to aaron: what hath this people done to thee that thou hast made to sin grievously? to whom he answered: let not my lord take none indignation at me, thou knowest well that this people is prone and ready to sin. they said to me: make us gods that may go tofore us; we know not what is fallen to this moses that led us out of egypt. to whom i said: who of you that hath gold give it me; they took and gave it to me, and i cast it into the fire, and thereof came out this calf. and then said moses: all they that be of god's part and have not sinned in this calf let them join to me; and the children of levi joined to him, and he bade each man take a sword on his side and take vengeance and slay every each his brother, friend, and his neighbor that have trespassed. and so the children of levi went and slew thirty-three thousand of the children of israel. and then said moses: ye have hallowed this day your hands unto our lord, and ye shall be therefore blessed. the second day moses spake to the people and said: ye have committed and done the greatest sin that may be. i shall ascend unto our lord again, and shall pray him for your sin. then moses ascended again, and received afterward two tables again, which our lord bade him make. and therein our lord wrote the commandments. and after, our lord commanded him to make an ark and a tabernacle: in which ark was kept three things. first the rod with which he did marvels, a pot full of manna, and the two tables with commandments. and then after moses taught them the law; how each man should behave him against other and what he should do, and what he should not do, and departed them into twelve tribes, and commanded that every man should bring a rod into the tabernacle. and moses wrote each name on the rod, and moses shut fast the tabernacle. and on the morn there was found one of the rods that burgeoned and bare leaves and fruit, and was of an almond tree. that rod fell to aaron. and after this, long time, the children desired to eat flesh and remembered of the flesh that they ate in egypt, and grudged against moses, and would have ordained to them a duke for to have returned into egypt. wherefore moses was so woe that he desired of our lord to deliver him from this life, because he saw them so unkind against god. then god sent to them so great plenty of curlews that two days and one night they flew so thick by the ground that they took great number, for they flew but the height of two cubits. and they had so many that they dried them hanging on their tabernacles and tents. yet were they not content, but ever grudging, wherefore god smote them and took vengeance on them by a great plague and many died and were buried there. and then from thence they went into hazeroth and dwelt. after this miriam and aaron, brother and sister of moses, began to speak against moses, because of his wife which was of ethiopia, and said: god hath not spoken only by moses, hath he not also spoken to us? wherefore our lord was wroth. moses was the humblest and the meekest man that was in all the world. anon then, our lord said to him, and to aaron and to miriam: go ye three only unto the tabernacle; and there our lord said that there was none like to moses, to whom he had spoken mouth to mouth, and reproved aaron and miriam because they spake so to moses, and being wroth, departed from them, and anon, miriam was smitten and made leper and white like snow. and when aaron beheld her and saw her smitten with leprosy, he said to moses: i beseech the lord that thou set not the sin on us which we have committed follily, and let not this our sister be as a dead woman, or as born out of time and cast away from her mother, behold and see, half her flesh is devoured of the leprosy. then moses cried unto our lord, saying: i beseech thee lord that thou heal her; to whom our lord said: if her father had spit in her face should she not be put to shame and rebuke seven days? let her depart out of the castles seven days, and after she shall be called in again. so miriam was shut out of the castles seven days, and the people removed not from the place till she was called again. after this our lord commanded moses to send men into the land of canaan that he should give them charge for to see and consider the goodness thereof, and that of every tribe he should send some. moses did as our lord had commanded, which went in and brought of the fruits with them, and they brought a branch with one cluster of grapes as much as two men might bear between them upon a colestaff. when they had seen the country and considered by the space of forty days they returned and told the commodities of the land, but some said that the people were strong, and many kings and giants, in such wise that they said it was impregnable and that the people were much stronger than they were. wherefore the people anon were afeard, and murmured against moses and would return again into egypt. then joshua and caleb, which were two of them that had considered the land, said to the people: why grudge ye and wherefore be ye afraid? we have well seen the country, and it is good to win. the country floweth full of milk and honey, be not rebel against god, he shall give it us, be ye not afeard. then all the people cried against them, and when they would have taken stones and stoned them, our lord in his glory appeared in a cloud upon the covering of the tabernacle, and said to moses: this people believeth not the signs and wonders that i have showed and done to them. i shall destroy them all by pestilence, and i shall make thee a prince upon people greater and stronger than this is. then prayed moses to our lord for the people, that he would have pity on them and not destroy them, but to have mercy on them after the magnitude of his mercy. and our lord at his request forgave them. nevertheless our lord said that all the men that had seen his majesty, and the signs and marvels that he did in egypt, and in desert, and have tempted him ten times, and not obeyed unto his voice, shall not see ne come into the country and land that i have promised to their fathers, but joshua and caleb, my servants, shall enter into the land, and their seed shall possess it. moses told all this unto the children and they wailed and sorrowed greatly therefore. after this the people removed from thence and came into the desert of sin; and then miriam, sister of moses and aaron, died, and was buried in the same place. then the people lacked water and came and grudged against moses, and yet wished they had abided in egypt. then moses and aaron entered into the tabernacle and fell down to the ground low, and prayed unto our lord, saying: lord god, hear the clamor of thy people, and open to them thy treasure, a fountain of living water, that they may drink and the murmuration of them may cease. our lord said to him then: take the rod in thy hand, and thou and aaron thy brother, assemble and gather the people and speak ye to the stone, and it shall give out water. and when the water cometh let all the multitude drink and their beasts. moses then took the rod as our lord bade, and gathered all the people tofore the stone and said to them: hear ye rebels and out of belief; trow ye not that we may give you water out of this stone? and he lift up his hand and smote between the stone, and water came and flowed out in the most largest wise, in such wise that the people and beasts drank their fill. then said god to moses and aaron: because ye have not believed me and sanctified my name tofore the children of israel, and given to me the laud, but have done this in your name, ye shall not bring this people into the land that i shall give to them. and therefore this water was called the water of contradiction, where the children grudged against god. anon after this, by god's commandment, moses took aaron upon the hill, and despoiled him of his vesture, and clothed therewith his son eleazar, and made him upperest bishop for his father aaron. and there aaron died in the top of the hill, and moses descended with eleazar. and when all the multitude of people saw that aaron was dead, they wept and wailed on him thirty days in every tribe and family. after this the people went about the land of edom, and began to wax weary, and grudged against our lord and moses, and said yet: why hast thou led us out of the land of egypt for to slay us in this desert and wilderness? bread faileth us, there is no water, and our souls abhor and loathe this light meat. for which cause god sent among them fiery-serpents, which bit and wounded many of them and slew also. then they that were hurt came in to moses and said: we have sinned, for we have spoken against our lord and thee; pray for us unto god that he deliver from us these serpents. then moses prayed our lord for the people. and our lord said to him: make a serpent of brass and set it up for a sign, and whosomever be hurt, and looketh thereon and beholdeth it, shall live and be whole. then moses made a serpent of brass, and set it up for a sign, and when they that were hurt beheld it they were made whole. after this when moses had showed to them all the laws of our lord, and ceremonies, and had governed them forty years, and that he was an hundred and twenty years old, he ascended from the fields of moab upon the mountain of nebo into the top of pisgah against jericho, and there our lord showed to him all the land of gilead unto dan, and the land of promise from that one end unto that other. and then our lord said to him: this is the land that i promised to abraham, isaac, and jacob, saying: i shall give it to thy seed. now thou hast seen it with thine eyes, and shalt not enter ne come therein. and there in that place died moses, servant of our lord, as god commanded, and was buried in the vale of the land of moab against beth-peor. and yet never man knew his sepulchre unto this day. moses was an hundred and twenty years old when he died, his eyes never dimmed, ne his teeth were never moved. the children of israel wept and mourned for him thirty days in the fields of moab. joshua the son of nun was replenished with the spirit of wisdom; for moses set on him his hands, and the children obeyed him as our lord had commanded to moses. and there was never after a prophet in israel like unto moses, which knew and spake to god face to face in all signs and tokens that god did and showed by him in the land of egypt to pharaoh and all his servants. the burial of moses by nebo's lonely mountain, on this side jordan's wave, in a vale in the land of moab there lies a lonely grave. and no man knows that sepulchre, and no man saw it e'er, for the angels of god upturned the sod, and laid the dead man there. that was the grandest funeral that ever passed on earth; but no man heard the trampling, or saw the train go forth-noiselessly as the daylight comes back when night is done, and the crimson streak on ocean's cheek grows into the great sun. noiselessly as the springtime her crown of verdure weaves, and all the trees on all the hills open their thousand leaves; so without sound of music, or voice of them that wept, silently down from the mountain's crown the great procession swept. perchance the bald old eagle, on gray beth-peor's height, out of his lonely eyrie looked on the wondrous sight; perchance the lion stalking, still shuns that hallowed spot, for beast and bird have seen and heard that which man knoweth not. but when the warrior dieth, his comrades in the war, with arms reversed and muffled drum, follow his funeral car; they show the banners taken, they tell his battles won, and after him lead his masterless steed, while peals the minute gun. amid the noblest of the land we lay the sage to rest, and give the bard an honored place with costly marble drest, in the great minster transept, where lights like glories fall, and the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings, along the emblazoned wall. this was the truest warrior that ever buckled sword; this the most gifted poet that ever breathed a word. and never earth's philosopher traced with his golden pen on the deathless page truths half so sage as he wrote down for men. and had he not high honor?- the hillside for a pall, to lie in state, while angels wait, with stars for tapers tall; and the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, over his bier to wave, and god's own hand in that lonely land to lay him in the grave,-in that strange grave without a name, whence his uncoffined clay shall break again, o wondrous thought! before the judgment day, and stand with glory wrapt around on the hills he never trod; and speak of the strife, that won our life, with the incarnate son of god. o lonely grave in moab's land! o dark beth-peor's hill! speak to these curious hearts of ours, and teach them to be still. god hath his mysteries of grace, ways that we cannot tell; he hides them deep, like the hidden sleep of him he loved so well. _--cecil frances alexander._ the history of joshua after moses, joshua was duke and leader of the children of israel, and brought them into the land of behest, and did many great battles. for whom god showed many great marvels and in especial one; that was that the sun stood still at his request, till he had overcome his enemies, by the space of a day. and our lord, when he fought, sent down such hail-stones that slew more of his enemies with the stones than with man's hand. joshua was a noble man and governed well israel, and divided the land unto the twelve tribes by lot. and when he was an hundred and ten years old he died. and divers dukes after him judged and deemed israel, of whom be noble histories, as of jephthah, gideon, and samson, which i pass over unto the histories of the kings, which is read in holy church from the first sunday after trinity sunday, unto the first sunday of august. the history of saul _the first sunday after trinity sunday unto the first sunday of the month of august is read the book of kings_. this history maketh mention that there was a man named elkanah which had two wives, that one was named hannah, and the name of the second peninnah. peninnah had children and hannah had none but was barren. the good man at such days as he was bounden, went to his city for to make his sacrifice and worship god. in this time hophni and phineas sons of eli, the great priest, were priests of our lord. this elkanah gave to peninnah at such times as he offered, to her sons and daughters, certain parts, and unto hannah he gave but one part. peninnah did much sorrow and reproof to hannah because she had had no children, and thus did every year, and provoked her to wrath, but she wept for sorrow and ate no meat. to whom elkanah her husband said: hannah, why weepest thou? and wherefore eatest thou not? why is thine heart put to affliction? am i not better to thee than ten sons? then hannah arose after she had eaten and drunk in shilo and went to pray unto our lord, making to him a vow if that she might have a son she should offer him to our lord. eli that time sat tofore the posts of the house of our lord. and hannah besought and prayed our lord, making to him a vow, if that she might have a son she should offer him to our lord. and it was so that she prayed so heartily in her thought and mind, that her lips moved not, wherefore eli bare her on hand that she was drunk. and she said: nay, my lord, i am a sorrowful woman, i have drunken no wine ne drink that may cause me to be drunken, but i have made my prayers, and cast my soul in the sight of almighty god. repute me not as one of the daughters of belial, for the prayer that i have made and spoken yet is of the multitude of the heaviness and sorrow of my heart. then eli the priest said to her: go in peace, the god of israel give to thee the petition of thy heart for that thou hast prayed him. and she said: would god that thy handservant might find grace in thy sight. and so she departed, and on the morn they went home again in to ramatha. after this our lord remembered her, and she bare a fair son and named him samuel for so much as she asked him of our lord. wherefore elkanah, her husband, went and offered a solemn sacrifice and his vow accomplished, but hannah ascended not with him. she said to her husband that she would not go till her child were weaned and taken from the pap. and after when samuel was weaned, and was an infant, the mother took him, and three calves and three measures of meal, and a bottle of wine, and brought him unto the house of our lord in shilo and sacrificed that calf and offered the child to eli, and told to eli that she was the woman that prayed our lord for that child. and there hannah worshipped our lord and thanked him, and there made this psalm which is one of the canticles: my heart hath rejoiced in the lord, and so forth, all the remnant of that psalm. and then elkanah with his wife returned home to his house. after this our lord visited hannah, and she conceived three sons, and two daughters, which she brought forth. and samuel abode in the house of our lord and was minister in the sight of eli. but the two sons of eli, hophni and phineas, were children of belial, not knowing our lord, but did great sins against the commandments of god. and our lord sent a prophet to eli because he corrected not his sons, and said he would take the office from him and from his house, and that there should not be an old man in his house and kindred, but should die ere they came to man's estate, and that god should raise a priest that should be faithful and after his heart. samuel served and ministered our lord in a surplice before eli. and on a time as eli lay in his bed his eyes were so dimmed that he might not see the lantern of god till it was quenched and put out. samuel slept in the temple of our lord whereas the ark of god was, and our lord called samuel, which answered: i am ready, and ran to eli and said: i am ready, thou callest me. which said: i called thee not my son, return and sleep, and he returned and slept. and our lord called him the second time, and he arose and went to eli and said: lo! i am here, thou calledst me, which answered: i called thee not, go thy way, and sleep. samuel knew not the calling of our lord yet, ne there was never revelation showed him tofore. and our lord called samuel the third time, which arose and came to eli and said: i am here, for thou calledst me. then eli understood that our lord had called him, and said to samuel: go and sleep, and if thou be called again thou shalt say: speak, lord, for thy servant heareth thee. samuel returned and slept in his place, and our lord came and called him: samuel! samuel! and samuel said: say, lord, what it pleaseth, for thy servant heareth. and then our lord said to samuel: lo! i make my word to be known in israel that whoso heareth, his ears shall ring and sound thereof. in that day i shall raise against eli that i have said upon his house. i shall begin and accomplish it. i have given him in knowledge that i shall judge his house for wickedness, forasmuch as he knoweth his sons to do wickedly, and hath not corrected them. therefore i have sworn to the house of eli that the wickedness of his house shall not be made clean with sacrifices ne gifts never. samuel slept till on the morn, and then he rose and opened the doors of the house of our lord in his surplice; and samuel was afeard to show this vision unto eli. eli called him and asked what our lord hath said to him and charged him to tell him all: and samuel told to him all that our lord had said, and hid nothing from him. and he said: he is our lord, what it pleaseth him, let him do. samuel grew, and our lord was with him in all his works. and it was known to all israel from dan to beersheba that samuel was the true prophet of our lord. after this it was so that the philistines warred against the children of israel, against whom there was a battle, and the children of israel overthrown and put to flight. wherefore they assembled again, and took with them the ark of god which hophni and phineas, sons of eli, bare, and when they came with a great multitude with the ark, the philistines were afraid. notwithstanding they fought against them manly and slew thirty thousand footmen of the children of israel and took the ark of god. and the two sons of eli were slain, hophni and phineas. and a man of the tribe of benjamin ran for to tell this unto eli which sat abiding some tidings of the battle. this man, as soon as he entered into the town, told how the field was lost, the people slain, and how the ark was taken. and there was a great sorrow and cry. and when eli heard this cry and wailing he demanded what this noise was and meant, and wherefore they so sorrowed. then the man hied and came and told to eli. eli was at that tide ninety-eight years old, and his eyes were waxen blind and might not see, and he said: i am he that came from the battle, and fled this day from the host. to whom eli said: what is there done, my son? he answered: the host of israel is overthrown and fled tofore the philistines, and a great ruin is made among the people, thy two sons be slain and the ark of god is taken. and when eli heard him name the ark of god he fell down backward by the door and brake his neck and there died. he was an old man and had judged israel forty years. then the philistines took the ark of god and set it in their temple of dagon, by their god dagon, in ashdod. on the morn, the next day early, when they of ashdod came into their temple, they saw their god dagon lie on the ground tofore the ark of god upon his face, and the head and the two hands of dagon were cut off. and there abode no more but the trunk only in the place. and god showed many vengeances to them of the country as long as the ark was with them, for god smote them with sickness, and wells boiled in towns and fields of that region, and there grew among them so many mice, that they suffered great persecution and confusion in that city. the people seeing this vengeance and plague said: let not the ark of the god of israel abide longer with us, for his hand is hard on us and on dagon our god, and sent for the great masters and governors of the philistines, and when they were gathered they said: what shall we do with the ark of the god of israel? and they answered: let it be led all about the cities, and so it was, and a great vengeance and death was had upon all the cities, and smote every man with plague from the most to the least. and then they sent the ark of god into acheron and when they of acheron saw the ark, they cried saying: they have brought the ark of the god of israel to us, for to slay us and our people. they cried that the ark should be sent home again, for much people were dead by the vengeance that was taken on them, and a great howling and wailing was among them. the ark was in the region of the philistines seven months. after this they counselled with their priests what they should do with the ark, and it was concluded it should be sent home again, but the priests said: if ye send it home, send it not void, but what ye owe pay for your trespass and sin, and then ye shall be healed and cured of your sicknesses. and so they ordained after the number of the five provinces of the philistines, five pieces of gold and five mice of gold, and led to a wain and put in it two wild kine, which never bear yoke, and said, leave their calves at home and take the ark and set it on the wain, and also the vessels and pieces of gold that ye have paid for your trespass, set them at the side of the ark and let them go where they will, and thus they sent the ark of god unto the children of israel. samuel then governed israel long, and when he was old he set his sons judges on israel, whose names were joel and abiah. and these two his sons walked not in his ways, but declined after covetise and took gifts and perverted justice and doom. then assembled and gathered together all the greatest of birth of the children of israel, and came to samuel and said: lo! thou art old and thy sons walk not in thy ways, wherefore ordain to us a king that may judge and rule us like as all other nations have. this displeased much to samuel when they said, ordain on us a king. then samuel counselled on this matter with our lord, to whom god said: hear the voice of the people that speak to thee: they have not cast only thee away, but me, that i should not reign on them, for they do now like as they ever have done sith i brought them out of egypt unto this day; that is that they have served false gods and strange, and so do they to thee. notwithstanding hear them, and tell to them tofore, the right of the king, and how he shall oppress them. samuel told all this to the people that demanded to have a king, and said: this shall be the right of a king that shall reign on you. he shall take your sons and make them his men of war, and set them in his chariots and shall make them his carters and riders of his horse in his chariots and carts, and shall ordain of them tribunes and centurions, earers and tillers of his fields, and mowers and reapers of his corn, and he shall make them smiths, and armorers of harness and cars, and he shall also take your daughters and make them his unguentaries [makers of perfumes], and ready at his will and pleasure; he shall also take from you your fields and vineyards and the best olives and give them to his servants, and he shall task and dime [tithe] your corn and sheaves, and the rents of your vineyards he shall value for to give to his officers and servants, and shall take from you your servants, both men and women, and set them to his works. and your asses and beasts he also shall take to his labor, your flocks of sheep he shall task and take the tenth or what shall please him, and ye shall be to him thrall and servants. and ye shall cry then wishing to flee from the face of yaur king, and our lord shall not hear you nor deliver you because ye have asked for you a king. yet for all this the people would not hear samuel, but said: give to us a king, for a king shall reign on us, and we shall be as all other people be. and our king shall judge us and go before us, and he shall fight our battles for us. and samuel heard all and counselled with our lord. to whom god commanded to ordain to them a king, and so he did, for he took a man of the tribe of benjamin whose name was saul, a good man and chosen, and there was not a better among all the children of israel, and he was higher of stature from the shoulder upward than any other of all the people. and samuel anointed him king upon israel, and said to him: our lord god hath anointed thee upon his heritage and ordained thee a prince, and thou shalt deliver his people from the hands of his enemies that be in the circuit and countries about, and so departed from him. and samuel after this gathered the people together and said: our lord saith that he hath brought you from the land of egypt, and saved you from the hands of all the kings that were your enemies and pursued you, and ye have forsaken our lord god that hath only delivered you from all your evil and tribulations, and have said: ordain upon us a king. wherefore now stand every each in his tribe, and we shall lot who shall be our king. and the lot fell on the tribe of benjamin, and in that tribe the lot fell upon saul the son of kish. and they sought him and could not find him, and it was told him that he was hid in his house at home, and the people ran thither and fetched him and set him amidst all the people. and he was higher than any of all the people from the shoulder upward. then samuel said to the people, now ye see and behold whom our lord hath chosen, for there is none like him of all the people. and then all the people cried: vivat rex, live the king. samuel wrote the law of the realm to the people in a book, and put it tofore our lord. thus was saul made the first king in israel, and anon had much war, for on all sides men warred on the children of israel, and he defended them, and saul had divers battles and had victory. samuel came on a time to saul and said god commanded him to fight against amalek and that he should slay and destroy man, woman, and child, ox, cow, camel and ass and sheep, and spare nothing. then saul assembled his people and had two hundred thousand footmen and twenty thousand men of the tribe of judah, and went forth and fought against amalek and slew them, sauf he saved agag the king of amalek alive, and all other he slew, but he spared the best flocks of sheep and of other beasts, and also good clothes, and wethers, and all that was good he spared, and whatsomever was foul he destroyed. and this was showed to samuel by our lord, saying: me forthinketh that i have ordained saul king upon israel, for he hath forsaken me, and not fulfilled my commandments. samuel was sorry herefor, and wailed all the night. on the morn he rose and came to saul, and saul offered sacrifice to our lord of the pillage that he had taken. and samuel demanded of saul what noise that was he heard of sheep and beasts, and he said that they were of the beasts that the people had brought from amalek to offer unto our lord, and the residue were slain. they have spared the best and fattest for to do sacrifice with unto thy lord god. then said samuel to saul: rememberest thou not that whereas thou wert least among the tribes of israel thou wert made upperest? and our lord anointed thee, and made thee king. and he said to thee: go and slay the sinners of amalek and leave none alive, man ne beast; why hast thou not obeyed the commandment of our lord? and hast run to robbery and done evil in the sight of god? and then said saul to samuel: i have taken agag, king of the amalekites, and brought him with me, but i have slain amalek. the people have taken of the sheep and beasts of the best for to offer unto our lord god. and then said samuel: trowest thou that our lord would rather have sacrifice and offerings than not to obey his commandments? better is obedience than sacrifice, and better it is to take heed to do after thy lord than to offer the fat kidneys of the wethers. for it is a sin to withstand and to repugn against his lord like the sin of idolatry. and because thou hast not obeyed our lord, and cast away his word, our lord hath cast thee away that thou shalt not be king. then said saul to samuel: i have sinned for i have not obeyed the word of god and thy words, but have dreaded the people and obeyed to their request, but i pray thee to bear my sin and trespass and return with me that i may worship our lord. and samuel answered, i shall not return with thee. and so samuel departed, and yet ere he departed, he did do slay [caused to be slain] agag the king. and samuel saw never saul after unto his death. then our lord bade samuel to go and anoint one of the sons of isai, otherwise called jesse, to be king of israel. and so he came into bethlehem unto jesse and bade him bring his sons tofore him. this jesse had eight sons, be brought tofore samuel seven of them, and samuel said there was not he that he would have. then he said that there was no more, save one which was youngest and yet a child, and kept sheep in the field. and samuel said: send for him, for i shall eat no bread till he come. and so he was sent for and brought. he was ruddy and fair of visage and well favored, and samuel arose, and took an horn with oil and anointed him in the middle of his brethren. and forthwith the spirit of our lord came directly in him that same day and ever after. then samuel departed and came into ramah. and the spirit of our lord went away from saul and an evil spirit oft vexed him. then his servants said to him: thou oft art vexed with an evil spirit, it were good to have one that could harp, to be with thee when the spirit vexeth thee, thou shalt bear it the lighter. and he said to his servants: provide ye to me such one. and then one said: i saw one of jesse's sons play on a harp, a fair child and strong, wise in his talking and our lord is with him. then saul sent messages to jesse for david, and jesse sent david his son with a present of bread, wine, and a kid, to saul. and always when the evil spirit vexed saul, david harped tofore him and anon he was eased, and the evil spirit went his way. after this the philistines gathered them into great hosts to make war against saul and the children of israel, and saul gathered the children of israel together and came against them in the vale of terebinthe. the philistines stood upon the hill on that other part, and the valley was between them. and there came out of the host of the philistines a great giant named goliath of gath; he was six cubits high and a palm, and a helmet of brass on his head, and was clad in a habergeon. the weight of his habergeon was of five thousand shekels of weight of metal. he had boots of brass on his calves, and his shoulders were covered with plates of brass. his glaive was as a great colestaff, and there was thereon six shekels of iron, and his squire went tofore him and cried against them of israel, and said they should choose a man to fight a singular battle against goliath, and if he were overcome the philistines should be servants to israel, and if he prevailed and overcame his enemy, they of israel should serve the philistines, and thus he did cry forty days long. saul and the children of israel were sore afraid. david was at this time in bethlehem with his father, and kept sheep, and three of his brethren were in the host with saul. to whom jesse said: david, take this pottage, ten loaves of bread, and ten cheeses, and go run unto the host to thy brethren, and see how they do, and learn how they be arrayed. david delivered his sheep to one to keep them, and bare these things unto the host. and when he came thither he heard a great cry, and he demanded after his brethren. and that same time came forth that giant goliath and said, as he had done tofore, and david heard him speak. all they of israel fled for fear of him, and david demanded what he was, and it was told him that he was come to destroy israel, and also that what man that might slay him, the king should enrich him with great riches, and should give to him his daughter, and shall make the house of his father without tribute. and david said: what is this uncircumcised that hath despised the host of the god of israel? and what reward shall he have that shall slay him? and the people said as afore is said. and when his oldest brother heard him speak to the people he was wroth with him, and said: wherefore art thou come hither and hast left the few sheep in desert. i know well thy pride, thou art come for to see the battle. and david said: what have i done? is it not as the people said? i dare fight well with this giant; and declined from his brother to other of the people. and all this was showed to saul, and david was brought to him, and said to saul: i, thy servant, shall fight against this giant if thou wilt. and saul said to him: thou mayst not withstand this philistine nor fight against him, for thou art but a child; this giant hath been a fighter from his childhood. david said to saul: i thy servant kept my father's sheep, and there came a lion and a bear and took away a wether from the middle of my flock, and i pursued after, and took it again from their mouths, and they arose and would have devoured me, and i caught them by the jaws and slew them. i thy servant slew the lion and the bear, therefore this philistine uncircumcised shall be as one of them. i shall now go and deliver israel from this opprobrium and shame. how is this philistine uncircumcised so hardy as to curse the host of the living god? and yet said david: the lord that kept me from the might of the lion and from the strength of the bear, he will deliver me from the power of the philistine. saul said then to david: go, and our lord be with thee. saul did do arm him with his armor, and girded his sword about him. and when he was armed, david said: i may not ne cannot fight thus, for i am not accustomed ne used, and unarmed him, and took his staff that he had in his hand, and chose to him five good round stones from the brook and put them in his bag, and took a sling in his hand, and went forth against the giant. and when goliath saw him come, he despised him and said: weenest thou that i am a hound that comest with thy staff to me? and he cursed david by his gods, and said to david: come hither and i shall give thy flesh to the fowls of heaven and to the beasts of the earth. david said unto goliath: thou comest to me with thy sword and glaive, and i come to thee in the name of the lord god of the host of israel which thou hast this day despised; and that lord shall give thee in my hand, and i shall slay thee and smite off thy head. and i shall give this day the bodies of the men of war of the philistines to the fowls of heaven, and to the beasts of the earth. then goliath rose and hied toward david, and david on that other side hied, and took a stone and laid it in his sling, and threw it at the giant, and smote him in the forehead in such wise that the stone was fixed there, in that he fell down on his visage. thus prevailed david against the philistine with his sling and stone, and smote him and slew him. and he had no sword but he went and took goliath's own sword and therewith smote off his head. and then the philistines seeing this giant thus slain, fled, and the israelites after followed, and slew many of them, and returned again and came into the tents, pavilions and lodgings of the philistines, and took all the pillage. david took the head of goliath and brought it into jerusalem, and his arms he brought into his tabernacle. and abner brought david, having the head of goliath in his hand, tofore saul. and saul demanded of him of what kindred that he was, and he said that he was son of jesse of bethlehem, and forthwith that same time jonathan, the son of saul, loved david as his own soul. saul then would not give him license to return to his father, and jonathan and he were confederate and swore each of them to be true to other, for jonathan gave his coat that he was clad withal, and all his other garments, unto his sword and spear, unto david. and david did all that ever saul bade him do wisely and prudently. and when he returned from the battle, and goliath was slain, the women came out from every town singing with choirs and timpanes against the coming of saul with great joy and gladness, saying: saul hath slain a thousand and david hath slain ten thousand. and this saying displeased much to saul, which said: they have given to david ten thousand and to me one thousand; what may he more have save the realm, and to be king? for this cause saul never loved david after that day, ne never looked on him friendly but ever sought means afterward to destroy david, for he dreaded that david should be lord with him, and put him from him. and david was wise and kept him well from him. and after this he wedded michal, daughter of saul, and jonathan made oft times peace between saul and david, yet saul kept no promise, but ever lay in wait to slay david. and jonathan warned david thereof. and david gat him a company of men of war to the number of four hundred, and kept him in the mountains. and on a time david was at home with his wife michal, and saul sent thither men of war to slay him in his house in the morning; and when michal heard thereof, she said to david: but if thou save thyself this night, to-morn thou shalt die, and she let him out by a window by which he escaped and saved himself. michal took an image and laid in his bed, and a rough skin of a goat on the head of the image, and covered it with clothes. and on the morn saul sent spies for david, and it was answered to them that he lay sick in his bed. then after this sent saul messengers for to see david, and said to them: bring him to me in his bed that he may be slain. and when the messengers came they found a simulachre or an image in his bed, and goats' skins on the head. then said saul to michal his daughter: why hast thou mocked me so, and hast suffered mine enemy to flee? and michal answered to saul and said: he said to me: let me go or i shall slay thee. david went to samuel in rama and told him all that saul had done to him. and it was told to saul that david was with samuel, and he sent thither messengers to take him. and when they came they found them with the company of prophets, and they sat and prophesied with them. and he sent more. and they did also so. and the third time he sent more messengers. and they also prophesied. and then saul being wroth asked where samuel and david were, and went to them, and he prophesied when he came also, and took off his clothes and was naked all that day and night before samuel. david then fled from thence and came to jonathan and complained to him saying: what have i offended that thy father seeketh to slay me? jonathan was sorry therefore, for he loved well david. after this saul ever sought for to slay david. and on a time saul went into a cave, and david was within the cave, to whom his squire said: now hath god brought thine enemy into thine hand; now go and slay him. and david said: god forbid that i should lay any hand on him, he is anointed. i shall never hurt ne grieve him, let god do his pleasure. and he went to saul and cut off a gobet [a small piece] of his mantle and kept it. and when saul was gone out, soon after issued david out and cried to saul saying: lo! saul, god hath brought thee into my hands. i might have slain thee if i had would, but god forbade that i should lay hand on thee, my lord anointed of god. and what have i offended that thou seekest to slay me? who art thou? said saul. art thou not david my son? yes, said david, i am thy servant, and kneeled down and worshipped him. then said saul: i have sinned, and wept and also said: thou art rightfuller than i am, thou hast done to me good, and i have done to thee evil. and thou hast well showed to me this day that god had brought me into thine hand, and thou hast not slain me. god reward thee for this, that thou hast done to me; now know i well that thou shalt reign in israel. i pray thee to be friendly to my seed, and destroy not my house, and swear and promise me that thou take not away my name from the house of my father; and david sware and promised to saul. and then saul departed and went home, and david and his people went in to surer places. anon after this samuel died, and was buried in his house in rama. and all israel bewailed him greatly. then there was a rich man in the mount of carmel that hight nabal, and on a time he sheared and clipped his sheep, to whom david sent certain men, and bade them say that david greeted him well, and whereas aforetimes his shepherds kept his sheep in desert, he never was grevious to them, ne they lost not much as a sheep as long as they were with us, and that he might ask his servants for they could tell, and that he would now in their need send them what it pleased him. nabal answered to the children of david: who is that david? trow ye that i shall send the meat that i have made ready for them that shear my sheep and send it to men that i know not? the men returned and told to david all that he had said. then said david to his men: let every man take his sword and gird him withal, and david took his sword and girt him. and david went and four hundred men followed him, and he left two hundred behind him. one of the servants of nabal told to abigail, nabal's wife, how that david had sent messengers from the desert unto his lord, and how wroth and wayward he was, and also he said that those men were good enough to them when they were in desert, ne never perished beast of yours as long as they were there. they were a wall and a shield for us both day and night all the time that we kept our flocks there, wherefore consider what is to be done. they purpose to do harm to him and to his house, for he is the son of belial in such wise that no man may speak with him. then abigail hied her and took two hundred loaves of bread, one hundred bottles of wine, five wethers sodden, and five measures of pottage, and one hundred bonds of grapes dried, and two hundred masses of caricares, and laid all this upon asses, and said to her servants: go ye tofore, and i shall follow after. she told hereof nothing to her husband nabal. then she took an ass and rode after, and when she came to the foot of the hill, david and his men descended; to whom she ran, and david said: i have for naught saved all the beasts of this nabal in desert, and there perished nothing of his that pertained to him, and he hath yielded evil for good. by the living god i shall not leave as much as his alive as one man. as soon as abigail saw david she descended from her ass, and fell down tofore david, upon her visage and worshipped him on the earth, and fell down to his feet and said: in me, said she, my lord, be this wickedness, i beseech thee that i thine handmaiden may speak to thine ears, and that thou wilt hear the words of me thy servant. i pray and require thee my lord, let not thy heart be set against this wicked man nabal, for according to his name he is a fool, and folly is with him. i thine handmaid saw not thy children that thou sendedst. now, therefore, my lord, for the love of god and of thy soul, suffer not thy hand to shed no blood, and i beseech god that thine enemies may be like nabal and they that would thee harm; and i beseech thee to receive this blessing and present which i thine handmaid have brought to thee, my lord, and give it to thy men that follow thee, my lord. take away the wickedness from me thy servant, and i beseech god to make to thee, my lord, a house of truth, for thou, my lord, shall fight the battles of our lord god; and let no malice be found in thee, never in all the days of thy life. if ever any man arise against thee or would pursue or would hurt thee, i beseech god to keep thee. and when our lord god hath accomplished to thee, my lord, all that he hath spoken good of thee, and hath constituted thee duke upon israel, let this not be in thy thought, ne scruple in thy heart that thou shouldest shed blood not guilty, ne be thou not now avenged. and when our lord god hath done well to thee, my lord, have thou remembrance on me thine handmaid, and do well to me. and david said to abigail: blessed be god of israel that sent thee this day to meet me, and blessed be thy speech, and blessed be thou that hast withdrawn me from bloodshedding, and that i avenged me not on mine enemy with mine hand, else by the living god of israel, if thou hadst not come unto me, there should not have blyven [been left] unto nabal to-morn in the morning one man. then david received all that she brought and said to her: go peaceably into thine house, lo! i have heard thy voice and i have honored thy visage; and so abigail came unto nabal, and david returned into the place he came from. nabal made a great feast in his house, like the feast of a king, and the heart of nabal was jocund; he was drunken, and abigail his wife told to him no word till on the morn, little ne much. on the morn when nabal had digested the wine, his wife told him all these words. and his heart was mortified within him, and he was dead like a stone, for the tenth day after, our lord smote him and he died. and when david heard that he was dead, he said: blessed be the good lord that hath judged the cause of mine opprobrium from the hand of nabal, and hath kept me his servant from harm, and our lord hath yielded the malice of nabal on his own head. then david sent to abigail for to have her to his wife, and she humbled herself and said she his handmaid was ready to wash the feet of his servants. and she arose and took with her five maidens which went afoot by her, and she rode upon an ass, and followed the messengers, and was made wife to david. and david also took another wife called ahinoam of jezreel, and both two were his wives. after this saul always sought david for to slay him. and the people called zyphites told to saul that david was hid in the hill of hachilah which was on the after part of the wilderness, and saul took with him three thousand chosen men and followed and sought david. david when he heard of the coming of saul went into the place whereas saul was, and when he was asleep he took one with him and went into the tent where saul slept, and abner with him and all his people. then said abishai to david: god hath put thine enemy this day in thine hands, now i shall go and smite him through with my spear, and then after that we shall have no need to dread him. and david said to abishai: slay him not; who may extend his hand into the anointed king of god and be innocent? and david said yet more: by the living god, but if god smite him or the days come that he shall die or perish in battle, god be merciful to me, as i shall not lay my hand on him that is anointed of our lord. now take the spear that standeth at his head, and the cup of water, and let us go. david took the spear and the cup and departed thence and there was not one that saw them ne awaked, for they slept all. then when david was on the hill far from them, david cried to the people and to abner, saying: abner, shalt not thou answer? and abner answered: who art thou that cryest and wakest the king? and david said to abner: art thou not a man and there is none like thee in israel? why hast thou not therefore kept thy lord the king? there is one of the people gone in to slay the king thy lord; by the living lord it is not good that ye do, but be ye worthy to die because ye have not kept your lord anointed of our lord. now look and see where the king's spear is, and the cup of water that stood at his head. saul knew the voice of david and said: is not this thy voice, my son david? and david said: it is my voice, my lord king. for what cause dost thou, my lord, pursue me thy servant? what thing have i done and what evil have i committed with my hand? thou seest well i might have slain thee if i would; god judge between thee and me. and saul said: i have sinned, return, my son; i shall never hereafter do thee harm ne evil, for thy soul is precious in my sight this day. it appeareth now that i have done follily, and am ignorant in many things. then said david: lo! here is the spear of the king, let a child come fetch it, our lord shall reward to every man after his justice and faith. our lord hath this day brought thee into my hands, and yet i would not lay mine hand on him that is anointed of our lord. and like as thy soul is magnified this day in my sight, so be my soul magnified in the sight of god and deliver me from all anguish. saul said then to david: blessed be thou, my son david. and david went then his way, and saul returned home again. and david said in his heart: sometime it might hap to me to fall and come into the hands of saul, it is better i flee from him and save me in the land of the philistines. and he went thence with six hundred men and came to achish king of gath and dwelled there. and when saul understood that he was with achish he ceased to seek him. and achish delivered to david a town to dwell in named ziklag. after this the philistines gathered and assembled much people against israel. and saul assembled all israel and came upon gilboa; and when saul saw all the host of the philistines, his heart dreaded and fainted sore, he cried for to have counsel of our lord. and our lord answered him not, ne by swevens ne by priests, ne by prophets. then said saul to his servants: fetch to me a woman having a phiton, otherwise called a phitoness or a witch. and they said that there was such a woman in endor. saul then changed his habit and clothing, and did on other clothing, and went, and two men with him, and came to the woman by night, and made her by her craft to raise samuel. and samuel said to saul: why hast thou put me from my rest, for to arise? and saul said: i am coarted [constrained] thereto, for the philistines fight against me, and god is gone from me, and will not hear me, neither by prophets, ne by swevens [dreams]. and samuel said: what askest thou of me when god is gone from thee and gone unto david? god shall do to thee as he hath said to thee by me, and shall cut thy realm from thine hand, and shall give it thy neighbor david. for thou hast not obeyed his voice, ne hast not done his commandment in amalek; therefore thou shalt lose the battle and israel shall be overthrown. to-morrow thou and thy children shall be with me, and our lord shall suffer the children of israel to fall in the hands of the philistines. anon then saul fell down to the earth. the words of samuel made him afeard and there was no strength in him, for he had eaten no bread of all that day, he was greatly troubled. then the phitoness desired him to eat, and she slew a paschal lamb that she had, and dighted and set it tofore him, and bread. and when he had eaten he walked with his servants all that night. and on the morn the philistines assailed saul and them of israel, and fought a great battle, and the men of israel fled from the face of the philistines, and many of them were slain in the mount of gilboa. the philistines smote in against saul and his sons, and slew jonathan and abinadab, and melchi-shua, sons of saul. and all the burden of the battle was turned on saul, and the archers followed him and wounded him sore. then said saul to his squire: pluck out thy sword and slay me, that these men uncircumcised come not and, scorning, slay me; and his squire would not for he was greatly afeard. then saul took his sword and slew himself, which thing when his squire saw, that is that saul was dead, he took his sword and fell on it and was dead with him. thus was saul dead, and his three sons and his squire, and all his men that day together. then the children of israel that were thereabouts, and on that other side of jordan, seeing that the men of israel fled, and that saul and his three sons were dead, left their cities and fled. the philistines came and dwelled there, and the next day the philistines went for to rifle and pillage them that were dead, and they found saul and his three sons lying in the hill of gilboa. and they cut off the head of saul, and robbed him of his armor, and sent it into the land of the philistines all about, that it might be showed in the temple of their idols, and unto the people; and set up his arms in the temple of ashtaroth, and hung his body on the wall of bethshan. and when the men that dwelt in jabesh-gilead saw what the philistines had done unto saul, all the strongest men of them arose and went all that night and took down the bodies of saul and of his sons from the wall of bethshan and burned them, and took the bones and buried them in the wood of jabesh-gilead and fasted seven days. _thus endeth the life of saul which was first king upon israel, and for disobedience of god's commandment was slain, and his heirs never reigned long after._ the history of david _here followeth how david reigned after saul, and governed israel. shortly taken out of the bible, the most historical matters and but little touched._ after the death of saul david returned from the journey that he had against amalek. for whilst david had been out with achish the king, they of amalek had been in ziklag and taken all that was therein prisoners, and robbed and carried away with them the two wives of david, and had set fire and burned the town. and when david came again home and saw the town burned he pursued after, and by the conveying of one of them of amalek that was left by the way sick, for to have his life he brought david upon the host of amalek whereas they sat and ate and drank. and david smote on them with his meiny [company] and slew down all that he found, and rescued his wives and all the good that they had taken, and took much more of them. and when he was come to ziklag, the third day after there came one from the host of saul, and told to david how that israel had lost the battle, and how they were fled, and how saul the king and jonathan his son were slain. david said to the young man that brought these tidings: how knowest thou that saul and jonathan be dead? and he answered it was so by adventure that i came upon the mount of gilboa, and saul rested upon his spear, and the horsemen and the chariots of the philistines approached to himward, and he looked behind him and saw me, and called me, and said to me: who art thou? and i said i am an amalekite, and then he said: stand upon me and slay me, for i am full of anguish, and yet my soul is in me. and i then standing on him slew him, knowing well that he might not live after the ruin. and i took the diadem from his head, and the armylle from his arm, which i have brought hither to thee, my lord. david took and rent his vestment, and all the men that were with him, and wailed and sorrowed much the death of saul and jonathan and of all the men of israel, and fasted that day till even. and david said to the young man: of whence art thou? and he said: i am the son of an amalekite. and david said to him: why dreadedst thou not to put thy hand forth to slay him that is anointed of god? david called one of his men, and bade him slay him. and he smote him and slew him. and david said: thy blood be on thy head! thine own mouth hath spoken against thee, saying: i have slain saul which was king anointed of our lord. david sorrowed and bewailed much the death of saul and of jonathan. after this david counselled with our lord and demanded if he should go in to one of the cities of judah. and our lord bade him go, and he asked whither, and our lord said: into hebron. then david took his two wives and all the men that were with him, every each with his household, and dwelled in the towns of hebron. and thither came the men of judah and anointed david king to reign upon the tribe of judah. and abner prince of the host of saul, and other servants of saul, took ishbosheth the son of saul, and led him about, and made him king over israel, except the tribe of judah. ishbosheth was forty years when he began to reign, and he reigned two years. the house of judah only followed david. after this it happed that abner, prince of the host of ishbosheth, with certain men, went out of the castles, and joab with certain men of david went also out and ran by the piscine [pool] of gibeon. one party was on that one side, and that other on the other. and abner said to joab: let our young men play and skirmish together, and joab agreed. and there rose twelve of benjamin, of the party of ishbosheth, and twelve of the children of david; and when they met together each took other by the head, and roof their swords into each other's sides and were all there slain. and there arose a great battle, and abner and his fellowship were put to flight by the men of david. and among all other there was asahel one of the brethren of joab and was the swiftest runner that might be, and pursued abner, and abner looked behind him, and bade him decline on the right side or on the left side, and take one of the young men and his harness, and come not at me. asahel would not leave him; yet abner said to him: go from me and follow not me lest i be compelled to slay thee, and then i may not make my peace with joab thy brother. which would not hear abner, but despised him, and abner then turned and slew him in the same place, and anon the sun went down and they withdrew. there were slain of the children of david nineteen men and of them of benjamin three hundred and sixty were slain, and thus there was long strife and contention between the house of david and the house of ishbosheth. after this abner took a concubine of saul and held her, wherefore ishbosheth reproved him of it and abner was wroth greatly thereof; and came to david and made friendship with him. joab was not there when abner made his peace with david; but when he knew it he came to abner with a fair semblant and spake fair to him by dissimulation, and slew him for to avenge the death of asahel his brother. and when david heard how joab had slain abner he cursed him, and bewailed greatly the death of abner, and did do bury him [caused him to be buried] honorably, and david followed the bier himself. and when ishbosheth, the son of saul, heard that abner was dead, he was all abashed and all israel sore troubled. there were two princes of thieves with ishbosheth named baanah and rechab, which came on a day in to ishbosheth where he lay and slept, and there they slew him, and took privily his head and brought it in to david in hebron and said: lo, here is the head of thine enemy ishbosheth, that sought to slay thee; this day god hath given to thee my lord vengeance of saul and of his seed. david answered to them: by the living god that hath delivered me from all anguish, him that told me that he had slain saul, and had thought to have had a reward of me, i did do slay, how much more ye that be so wicked to slay him that is not guilty, in his house and upon his bed? shall i not ask his blood of your hands, and throw you out of this world? yes, certainly. and david commanded to his servants to slay them, and so they were slain, and cut off their hands and feet, and hung them on the piscine [pool] in hebron, and took the head of ishbosheth and buried it in the sepulchre of abner. and then came all the tribes of israel to david in hebron, saying: we be thy mouth and thy flesh, when saul lived and was king on us and reigned, thou wert coming and going; and because god hath said thou shalt reign upon my people and be their governor, therefore we shall obey thee. and all the seniors of israel came and did homage to david in hebron, and anointed him king over them. david was thirty years old when he began to reign and he reigned forty years. he reigned in hebron upon judah seven years and six months, and in jerusalem he reigned thirty-three years upon all israel and judah. david then made him a dwelling-place in the hill of sion in jerusalem. and after this the philistines made war against him, but he oft overthrew them and slew many of them, and made them tributary to him, and after brought the ark of god in jerusalem, and set it in his house. after this yet the philistines made war again unto him and other kings were aiding and helping them against david, whom david overcame and slew and put under. and on a time when joab was out with his men of war lying at a siege tofore a city, david was at home, and walked in his chamber, and as he looked out at a window he saw a fair woman wash her and bain her in her chamber, which stood against his house, and demanded of his servants who she was, and they said she was uriah's wife. and david sent letters to joab and bade him to send home to him uriah; and joab sent uriah to david, and david demanded how the host was ruled, and after bade him go home to his house and wash his feet. and uriah went thence, and the king sent to him his dish with meat. uriah would not go home, but lay before the gate of the king's house with other servants of the king's. and it was told to the king that uriah went not home, and then david said to uriah: thou comest from a far way, why goest thou not home? and uriah said to david: the ark of god and israel and judah be in the pavilions, and my lord joab and the servants of thee, my lord, lie on the ground, and would ye that i should go to my house? by thy health and by the health of my soul i shall not do so. then david said to uriah, abide here then this night, and to-morrow i shall deliver thee. uriah abode there that day and the next, and david made him eat tofore him and made him drunk, yet for all that he would not go home, but lay with the servants of david. then on the morn david wrote a letter to joab, that he should set uriah in the weakest place of the battle and where most jeopardy was, and that he should be left there that he might be slain. and uriah bare this letter to joab, and it was so done as david had written, and uriah was slain in the battle. and joab sent word to david how they had fought, and how uriah was slain and dead. when uriah's wife heard that her husband was dead, she mourned and wailed him; and after the mourning david sent for her and wedded her, and she bare him a son. and this that david had committed on uriah displeased greatly our lord. then our lord sent nathan the prophet unto david, which, when he came, said to him: there were two men dwelling in a city, that one rich and that other poor. the rich man had sheep and oxen right many, but the poor man had but one little sheep, which he bought and nourished and grew with his children, eating of his bread and drinking of his cup, and slept in his bosom. she was to him as a daughter. and on a time when a certain pilgrim came to the rich man, he, sparing his own sheep and oxen to make a feast to the pilgrim that was come to him, took the only sheep of the poor man and made meat thereof to his guest. david was wroth and said to nathan: by the living god, the man that hath so done is the child of death, the man that hath so done shall yield therefor four times double. then said nathan to david: thou art the same man that hath done this thing. this said the lord god of israel: i have anointed thee king upon israel, and kept thee from the hand of saul, and i have given to thee an house to keep in thine household and wives in thy bosom. i have given to thee the house of israel and the house of judah, and if these be small things i shall add and give to thee much more and greater. why hast thou therefore despised the word of god and hast done evil in the sight of our lord? thou hast slain uriah with a sword, and his wife hast thou taken unto thy wife, and thou hast slain him with the sword of the sons of ammon. therefore the sword shall not go from thy house, world without end, forasmuch as thou hast despised me and hast taken uriah's wife unto thy wife. this said our lord: i shall raise evil against thee, and shall take thy wives in thy sight and give them to thy neighbor. thou hast done it privily, but i shall make this to be done and open in the sight of all israel. and then said david to nathan: peccavi! i have sinned against our lord. nathan said: our lord hath taken away thy sin, thou shalt not die, but forasmuch as thou hast made the enemy to blaspheme the name of god, therefore the son that is born to thee shall die by death. and nathan returned to his house. and for this sin david made this psalm: miserere mei deus [have pity on me, o god!], which is a psalm of mercy, for david did great penance for these sins of adultery and also of homicide. therefore god took away this sin, and forgave it him, but the son that she brought forth died. and after this bathsheba, that had been uriah's wife, brought forth another son named solomon, which was well-beloved of god, and after david, solomon was king. after this david had much war and trouble and anger, insomuch that on a time amnon, oldest son of david, loved thamar his sister. david knew hereof, and was right sorry for it, but he would not rebuke his son amnon for it, for he loved him because he was his first begotten son. absalom hated amnon ever after, and when absalom on a time did do shear his sheep he prayed all his brethren to come eat with him, and made them a feast like a king's feast. at which feast he did do slay his brother amnon; and anon it was told to the king david that absalom had slain all the king's sons. wherefore the king was in great heaviness and sorrow, but anon after it was told him that there was no more slain but amnon, and the other sons came home. and absalom fled into geshur, and was there three years, and durst not come home. and after by the moyen of joab he was sent for, and came into jerusalem, but yet he might not come in his father the king's presence, and dwelled there two years, and might not see the king his father. this absalom was the fairest man that ever was, for from the sole of his foot unto his head there was not a spot; he had so much hair on his head that it grieved him to bear, wherefore it was shorn off once a year, it weighed two hundred shekels of good weight. then when he abode so long that he might not come to his father's presence he sent for joab to come speak with him, and he would not come. he sent again for him and he came not. then absalom said to his servants: know ye joab's field that lieth by my field? they said yea. go ye, said he, and set fire in the barley that is therein, and burn it. and joab's servants came and told to joab that absalom had set fire on his corn. then joab came to absalom and said: why hast thou set fire on my corn! and he said, i have sent twice to thee, praying thee to come to me that i might send thee to the king, and that thou shouldst say to him why i came from geshur; it had been better for me for to have abiden there. i pray thee that i may come to his presence and see his visage, and if he remember my wickedness let him slay me. joab went in to the king and told to him all these words. then was absalom called, and entered in to the king, and he fell down and worshipped the king, and the king kissed him. after this absalom did do make for himself chariots and horsemen and fifty men for to go before him, and walked among the tribes of israel; and greeted and saluted them, taking them by the hand, and kissed them, by which he gat to him the hearts of the people; and said to his father that he had avowed to make sacrifice to god in hebron, and his father gave him leave. and when he was there he gathered people to him, and made himself king, and did do cry that all men should obey and wait on him as king of israel. when david heard this he was sore abashed and was fain to flee out of jerusalem. and absalom came with his people and entered into jerusalem into his father's house, and after pursued his father to depose him. and david ordained his people and battle against him, and sent joab, prince of his host, against absalom, and divided his host into three parts, and would have gone with them, but joab counselled that he should not go to the battle whatsomever happed, and then david bade them to save his son absalom. and they went forth and fought, and absalom with his host was overthrown and put to flight. and as absalom fled upon his mule he came under an oak, and his hair flew about a bough of the tree and held so fast that absalom hung by his hair, and the mule ran forth. there came one to joab and told him how that absalom hung by his hair on a bough of an oak, and joab said: why hast thou not slain him? the man said: god forbid that i should set hand on the king's son; i heard the king say: keep my son absalom alive and slay him not. then joab went and took three spears, and fixed them in the heart of absalom as he hung on the tree by his hair, and yet after this ten young men, squires of joab, ran and slew him. then joab trumped and blew the retreat, and retained the people that they should not pursue the people flying. and they took the body of absalom and cast it in a great pit, and laid on him a great stone. and when david knew that his son was slain, he made great sorrow and said: o my son absalom, my son absalom, who shall grant to me that i may die for thee, my son absalom, absalom my son! it was told to joab that the king wept and sorrowed the death of his son absalom, and all their victory was turned into sorrow and wailing, insomuch that the people eschewed to enter into the city. then joab entered in to the king and said: thou hast this day discouraged the cheer of all thy servants because they have saved thy life, and the lives of thy sons and daughters, of thy wives and of thy concubines, thou lovest them that hate thee, and hatest them that love thee, and showest well this day that thou settest little by thy dukes and servants; and truly i know now well that if absalom had lived and all we thy servants had been slain, thou haddest been pleased. therefore, arise now and come forth and satisfy the people; or else i swear to thee by the good lord that there shall not one of thy servants abide with thee till to-morrow, and that shall be worse to thee than all the harms and evils that ever yet fell to thee. then david the king arose and sat in the gate, and anon it was shown to all the people that the king sat in the gate. and then all the people came in tofore the king, and they of israel that had beerv with absalom fled into their tabernacles, and after came again unto david when they knew that absalom was dead. and after, one sheba, a cursed man, rebelled and gathered people against david. against whom joab with the host of david pursued, and drove him unto a city which he besieged, and by the means of a woman of the same city sheba's head was smitten off and delivered to joab over the wall, and so the city was saved, and joab pleased. after this david called joab, and bade him number the people of israel, and so joab walked through all the tribes of israel, from dan to beersheba, and over jordan and all the country, and there were founden in israel eight hundred thousand strong men that were able to fight and to draw sword, and of the tribe of judah fifty thousand fighting men. and after that the people was numbered, the heart of david was smitten by our lord and was heavy, and said: i have sinned greatly in this deed, but i pray the lord to take away the wickedness of thy servant, for i have done follily. david rose on the morn early, and the word of our lord came to gad the prophet saying: that he should go to david and bid him choose one of three things that he should say to him. when gad came to david he said that he should choose whether he would have seven years hunger in his land, or three months he should flee his adversaries and enemies, or to have three days' pestilence. of these three god biddeth thee choose which thou wilt; now advise thee and conclude what i shall answer to our lord. david said to gad: i am constrained to a great thing, but it is better for me to put me in the hands of our lord, for his mercy is much more than in men, and so he chose pestilence. then our lord sent pestilence the time constitute, and there died of the people from dan to beersheba seventy thousand men. and when the angel extended his hand upon jerusalem for to destroy it, our lord was merciful upon the affliction, and said to the angel so smiting: it sufficeth now, withdraw thy hand. david said to our lord when he saw the angel smiting the people: i am he that have sinned and done wickedly, what have these sheep done? i beseech thee that thy hand turn upon me and upon the house of my father. then came gad to david and bade him make an altar in the same place where he saw the angel; and he bought the place, and made the altar, and offered sacrifices unto our lord, and our lord was merciful, and the plague ceased in israel. david was old and feeble and saw that his death approached, and ordained that his son solomon should reign and be king after him. howbeit that adonijah his son took on him to be king during david's life. for which cause bathsheba and nathan came to david, and tofore them he said that solomon should be king, and ordained that he should be set on his mule by his prophets nathan, zadok the priest and benaiah, and brought in to sion. and there zadok the priest and nathan the prophet anointed him king upon israel and blew in a trump and said: live the king solomon. and from thence they brought him into jerusalem and set him upon his father's seat in his father's throne, and david worshipped him in his bed, and said: blessed be the lord god of israel that hath suffered me to see my son in my throne and seat and then adonijah and all they that were with him were afeared, and dreading solomon ran away, and so ceased adonijah. the days of david approached fast that he should die, and did do call solomon before him, and there he commanded him to keep the commandments of our lord and walk in his ways, and to observe his ceremonies, his precepts and his judgments, as it is written in the law of moses, and said: our lord confirm thee in thy reign, and send to thee wisdom to rule it well. and when david had thus counselled and commanded him to do justice and keep god's law, he blessed him and died, and was buried with his fathers. this david was an holy man and made the holy psalter, which is an holy book and is contained therein the old law and the new law. he was a great prophet, for he prophesied the coming of christ, his nativity, his passion, and resurrection, and also his ascension, and was great with god, yet god would not suffer him to build a temple for him, for he had shed man's blood. but god said to him, his son that should reign after him should be a man peaceable, and he should build the temple to god. and when david had reigned forty years king of jerusalem, over judah and israel, he died in good mind, and was buried with his fathers in the city of david. the song of david he sang of god, the mighty source of all things, the stupendous force on which all strength depends; from whose right arm, beneath whose eyes, all period, power, and enterprise commences, reigns, and ends. the world, the clustering spheres he made, the glorious light, the soothing shade, dale, champaign, grove, and hill: the multitudinous abyss, where secrecy remains in bliss, and wisdom hides her skill. tell them, i am, jehovah said to moses: while earth heard in dread, and, smitten to the heart, at once, above, beneath, around, all nature, without voice or sound, replied, "o lord, thou art." _--c. smart_ the story of a cup of water by theodore t. munger [from "lamps and paths," by courtesy of houghton, mifflin & co.] be noble! and the nobleness that lies in other men, sleeping, but never dead, will rise in majesty to meet thine own. --james russell lowell: _sonnet iv_ restore to god his due in tithe and time: a tithe purloined cankers the whole estate. sundays observe: think, when the bells do chime, 'tis angels' music; therefore come not late. god there deals blessings. if a king did so, who would not haste, nay give, to see the show? --george herbert o lord, that lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! _--king henry vi.,_ part ii.; i. i _"and david longed, and said, oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of bethlehem, that is at the gate! and the three brake through the host of the philistines, and drew water out of the well of bethlehem, that was by the gate, and took it and brought it to david: but david would not drink of it, but poured it out to the lord, and said, my god forbid it me, that i should do this thing: shall i drink the blood of these men that have put their lives in jeopardy? for with the jeopardy of their lives they brought it. therefore he would not drink it."_--i chronicles xi. 17-19 if any of my young friends ask why i have read this long-time-ago bible-story as a text for a sermon to-day, i will not only answer, but thank them for the question; for nothing helps a speaker at the start so much as a straight, intelligent question. i have read this story from the chronicles, because i want to connect this beautiful occasion with some beautiful thing in the bible; for beautiful things go together. my main object and desire in this service is to have everything beautiful and pure and high. for i know how well you will remember this day in after years; i know how every feature and incident is imprinting itself upon your minds; i know how, twenty and forty years hence, when we older ones will be dead and gone, and you will be scattered far and wide, some in the great cities--new york, chicago, st. louis--some in california, and some further off still--i know how, on quiet june sundays years hence, you will recall this festival of flowers in north adams. you may be in some of the great cities, or on the broad prairies, or among the park-like forests of the sierra, or in puget sound, but you will never forget this day. these familiar walls; this pulpit and font and chancel decked with flowers; this service, made _for_ you and in part _by_ you--you will never forget it. and because you will always remember it, i want to have it throughout just as beautiful, just as pure and inspiring, as possible. the flowers will do their part; they never fail to speak sweet, pure words to us. your superintendent always does his part well, and i hope you will all thank him in your hearts, if not in words, for his faithful and laborious interest in you. and your teachers and others who have brought together this wealth of beauty, this glory of color and perfume, this tribute of sweetness from mountain-side and field and garden--they have done well; and you will remember it all years hence, and when far away, and perhaps some tears will start for "the days that are no more." but this occasion would not be complete to my mind if there were not linked with it some noble and inspiring trutn. i want to make all these flowers and this music the setting of a truth, like a diamond set round with emeralds, or an opal with pearls. _you_ have brought the pearls and the emeralds; _i_ must bring a diamond or an opal to set in the midst of them. i am very sure that i have one in this old story--a diamond very brilliant if we brush away the old hebrew dust, and cut away the sides and let in a little more light upon it. i am not sure, however, but i ought to call it a pearl rather than a diamond; for there is a chaste and gentle modesty about it that reminds one of the soft lustre of a pearl rather than of the flashing splendor of a diamond. st. john, in naming the precious stones that make the foundation of the heavenly city, omits the diamond--and for some good reason, i suspect--while the twelve gates were all pearls. now, i think david stood very near one of those gates of pearl at the time of this story. to my mind, it is nearly the most beautiful in all this book; and i know you will listen while i tell it more fully. i have this impression of david--that if you had seen him when he was young, you would have thought him the most glorious human being you had ever looked on. he was one of those persons who fascinate all who come near them. he bound everybody to him in a wonderful way. they not only _liked_ him, but they became absorbed in him, and were ready to obey him, and serve him, and to give themselves up to him in every way possible. i am not at all surprised that saul's son and daughter and saul himself fell in love with, and could hardly live without, him. it was so all along; and even after he became an old man everybody was fascinated by him--even his old uncles--and stood ready to do his bidding and consult his wishes. it was somewhat so with richard coeur de lion and napoleon and mary stuart and alexander and julius cæsar; but the personal fascination of none of these persons was so great as that of david. in some respects he was no greater than some of these; but he had a broader and more lovable nature than any of them, for he had what not one of them had in anything like the same degree--a great and noble generosity. david deserved all the love that was lavished upon him, because--let men love him ever so much--he loved more in return. there was not apparently, at this early time of his life, one grain of selfishness about him. you know that the word _chivalry_ was not used till about a thousand years back, while david lived almost three times as long ago; but he was one of the most _chivalrous_ men that ever lived. by chivalry i mean a union of honor, purity, religion, nobleness, bravery, and devotion to a cause or person. david excited this chivalric devotion in others because he had so much of it in himself. and here i will stop a moment just to say that if you want to awaken any feeling in another toward yourself, you must first have it in yourself. i think there is a very general notion that in order to awaken admiration and love and regard in others one must have a fine appearance. there is a great deal of misplaced faith in fine clothes and bright eyes and clear complexions and pretty features; but i have yet to learn that these ever win genuine love and admiration. and so far as i have observed, a true sentiment only grows out of a corresponding sentiment; feeling comes from feeling; in short, others come at last to feel toward us just about as we feel toward them. and i never knew a person, young or old, to show a kind, generous, hearty disposition to others who was not surrounded by friends. and i have seen--i know not how many--selfish and unobliging and unsympathetic persons go friendless all their days in spite of wealth and fine appearance. now, put this away in your memory to think of hereafter. it was david's great-heartedness that bound others to him. at the time of this story he was a sort of outlaw, driven without any good reason from the court of saul. but he was a man of too much spirit to allow himself to be tamely killed, and he loved saul and his family too well to actually make war upon him, and he was too good a patriot to give trouble to his country--a pretty hard place he had to fill, i can assure you. but he was equal to it, and simply bided his time, drawing off into the wild and rocky regions where he could hide and also protect himself. but he was not a man whom people would leave alone. the magnetic power that was in him drew kindred spirits, and some that were not kindred who found it pleasanter to follow a chief in the wilds than to live in the dull quiet of their homes. but the greater part of them were brave, generous, devoted souls, who had come to the conclusion that to live with david and fight his battles and share his fortunes was more enjoyable than to plod along under saul and his petty tyrannies. there were, in particular, eleven men of the tribe of gad--mountaineers--fierce as lions and swift as roes, terrible men in battle, and full of devotion to david. in this way he got together quite a little army, which he used to defend the borders from the philistines, who were a thieving set, and also to defend himself in case saul troubled him. it was not exactly the best sort of a life for a man to live; and had not david been a person of very high principles, his followers would have been a band of robbers living on the country. but david prevented that, and made them as useful as was possible. his headquarters were at the cave of adullam, or what is now called engedi. while here, the philistines came on a foraging expedition as far as bethlehem, and with so large a force that david and his few followers were shut up in their fortress--for how long we do not know--probably for some days. it was very dull and wearisome business, imprisoned in a rocky defile and unable to do anything, while the philistines were stealing the harvests that grew on the very spot where he had spent his boyhood. it was then that what has always seemed to me a very touching and beautiful trait of david's character showed itself, and that is--_a feeling of homesickness_. now, there is very little respect to be had for a person who is not capable of homesickness. to give up to it may be weak, but to be incapable of it is a bad sign. but in david it took a very poetic form. close by was the home where he was born. there, in bethlehem, he had passed the dreamy years of his childhood and youth amid the love of his parents and brothers, whom he now had with him; there he fed his sheep and sang to his harp; and there, morning and evening, he gathered with others about the well--the meeting-place of his companions--loved with all the passionate energy of his nature, and still loved in spite of the troublous times that had come upon him. as david broods over these memories, he longs with a yearning, homesick feeling for bethlehem and its well. and, like a poet as he was, he conceives that if he could but drink of its water, it would relieve this feverish unrest and longing for the past. it was a very natural feeling. you are too young to know what it means; but we who are older think of these little things in a strange, yearning way. it is the little things of childhood that we long for--to lie under the roof on which we heard the rain patter years and years ago; to gather fruit in the old orchard; to fish in the same streams; to sit on the same rock, or under the same elm or maple, and see the sun go down behind the same old hills; to drink from the same spring that refreshed us in summer days that will not come again--_you_ are too young for this, but we who are older know well how david felt. he was not a man to hide his feelings, and so he uttered his longing for the water of the well by the gate of bethlehem. his words are overheard; and three of these terrible followers of his--fierce as lions and fleet as deer--took their swords and fought their way through the philistines, slaying we know not how many, and brought back some of the water. it was enough for _them_ that david wanted it. now, some people would say that it was very foolish and sentimental of david to be indulging in such a whim, and still more foolish in these men to gratify it at the risk of their lives; but i think there is a better way of looking at it. if david had _required_ them to procure the water at the risk of their lives, it would have been very wrong; but the whole thing was unknown to him till the water was brought. i prefer to regard it as an act of splendid heroism, prompted by chivalric devotion, and i will not stop to consider whether or not it was sensible and prudent. and i want to say to you that whenever you see or hear of an action that has these qualities of heroism and generosity and devotion, it is well to admire and praise it, whether it will bear the test of cold reason or not. i hope your hearts will never get to be so dry and hard that they will not beat responsive to brave and noble deeds, even if they are not exactly prudent. but david took even a higher view of this brave and tender act of his lion-faced, deer-footed followers. it awoke his religious feelings; for our sense of what is noble and generous and brave lies very close to our religious sensibilities. the whole event passes, in david's mind, into the field of religion; and so what does he do? drink the water, and praise his three mighty warriors, and bid them never again run such risks to gratify his chance wishes? no. david looks a great deal further into the matter than this. the act seemed to him to have a religious character; its devotion was so complete and unselfish that it became sacred. he felt what i have just said--that a brave and devoted act that incurs danger is almost if not quite a religious act. and so he treats it in a religious way. he is anxious to separate it from himself, although done for him, and get it into a service done for god; and he may have thought that he had himself been a little selfish. to his mind it would have been a mean and low repayment to these men to drink their water with loud praises of their valor. they had done a godlike deed, and so he will transfer it to god, and make it an act as between them and god. i do not know that those lion-faced, deer-footed warriors understood or appreciated his treatment of their act; but david himself very well knew what he was about, and you can see that he acted in a very high and true way. he will not drink the water, but pours it out unto the lord, and lets it sink into the ground unused, and, because unused, a sort of sacrifice and offering to god. water got with such valor and risk was not for man, but for god. much less was it right to use it to gratify a dreamy whim that had in it perhaps just a touch of selfishness. the bravery and danger had made the water sacred, and so he will make a sacred use of it. if any one thinks that david was carried away by sentimentality, or that he was overscrupulous, one has only to recall how, when _actually_ in want, he took the consecrated bread from the tabernacle at nob, and ate it and gave it to his followers. his strong common-sense told him that even consecrated bread was not too good for hungry men; but that same fine common-sense told him that water procured at the risk of life, when not actually wanted, had become sacred, and had better be turned into a sort of prayer and offering to god than wantonly drunk. and now, having the story well in mind, i will close by drawing out from it one or two lessons that seem to me very practical. suppose we were to ask, who acted in the noblest way--the three strong men who got the water, or david, who made a sacrifice or libation of it? it does not take us long to answer. the real greatness of the whole affair was with the three men, though david put a beautiful meaning upon it, and exalted it to its true place. their act was very brave and lofty; but david crowned it with its highest grace by carrying it on into religion--that is, by setting it before god. i see a great many people who are living worthy lives, doing a great many kind acts and rendering beautiful services, but do not take god into their thoughts, nor render their services as unto him. i think everybody must see that this act of these lion-faced men was more complete when david took it before god than as rendered for himself. why, it might take long to tell; but, briefly, it was because the nameless grace of religion has been added to it, and because it was connected with that great, dear name that hallows everything brought under it. many of you have brought here offerings of flowers, sweet and fit for this day and place and purpose. some may have brought them simply with the thought of helping out the occasion, or to please your teacher, or because it is beautiful in itself to heap up beauty in this large way; but if, as you worked here yesterday, or brought your flowers to-day, your thoughts silently rose to god, saying, "these are for _thy_ altars--this glory of tint and perfume is not for us, but for _thee_"--then, i think, every poet, every person of fine feeling, every true thinker, would say that the latter is more beautiful than the former. i hate to see a life that does not take hold of god; i hate to see fine acts and brave lives and noble dispositions and generous emotions that do not reach up into a sense of god; i hate to see persons--and i see a great many such nowadays--striving after beautiful lives and true sentiments and large thoughts without ever a word of prayer, or thought of god, or anything to show they love and venerate christ. i hate to see it, both because they might rise so much higher and because at last it fails; for god must enter into every thought and sentiment and purpose in order to make it genuine, and truly beautiful, and altogether right. that god may be in your thoughts; that you may learn to confess him in all your ways, to serve and fear and know and love him--this is the wish with which i greet you to-day, and the prayer that i offer in your behalf. i found, the other day, some lines by faber--a catholic poet--so beautifully giving this last thought of our sermon that i will read them to you: "oh god! who wert my childhood's love, my boyhood's pure delight, a presence felt the livelong day, a welcome fear at night, "i know not what i thought of thee; what picture i had made of that eternal majesty to whom my childhood prayed. "with age thou grewest more divine, more glorious than before; i feared thee with a deeper fear, because i loved thee more. "thou broadenest out with every year each breath of life to meet. i scarce can think thou art the same, thou art so much more sweet. "father! what hast thou grown to now? a joy all joys above, something more sacred than a fear, more tender than a love. "with gentle swiftness lead me on, dear god! to see thy face; and meanwhile in my narrow heart, oh, make thyself more space." the history of solomon after david, reigned solomon his son, which was in the beginning a good man and walked in the ways and laws of god. and all the kings about him made peace with him and was king confirmed, obeyed and peaceable in his possession, and according to his father's commandment did justice. first on joab that had been prince of his father's host, because he slew two good men by treason and guile, that was abner the son of ner, and amasa the son of ithra. and joab was afeard and dreaded solomon, and fled into the tabernacle of our lord and held the end of the altar. and solomon sent benaiah and slew him there, and after buried him in his house in desert. and after this on a night as he lay in his bed after he had sacrificed to our lord in gibeon, our lord appeared to him in his sleep saying to him: ask and demand what thou wilt that i may give to thee. and solomon said: lord, thou hast done to my father great mercy; because he walked in thy ways in truth, justice, and a rightful heart, thou hast always kept for him thy great mercy, and hast given to him a son sitting upon this throne as it is this day. and now lord thou hast made me thy servant to reign for my father david. i am a little child and know not my going out and entering in, and i thy servant am set in the middle of the people that thou hast chosen which be infinite, and may not be numbered for multitude; therefore lord give to me thy servant a heart docile and taught in wisdom that may judge thy people, and discern between good and evil. who may judge this people, thy people that be so many? this request and demand pleased much unto god that solomon had asked such a thing. and god said to solomon: because thou hast required and asked this and hast not asked long life, ne riches, ne the souls of thine enemies, but hast asked sapience and wisdom to discern doom and judgment, i have given to thee after thy desire and request, and i have given to thee a wise heart and understanding insomuch that there was never none such tofore, ne never after shall be. and also those things that thou hast not asked i have given also to thee, that is to say riches and glory, that no man shall be like to thee among all the kings that shall be after thy days. if thou walk in my ways and keep my precepts and observe my commandments as thy father walked, i shall make thy days long. after this solomon awoke and came to jerusalem, and stood tofore the ark of our lord and offered sacrifices and victims unto our lord, and made a great feast unto all his servants and household. then came tofore him two women, of which that one said: i beseech thee my lord hear me; this woman and i dwelled together in one house, and i was delivered of a child in my cubicle [sleeping room], and the third day after she bare a child, and was also delivered, and we were together and none other in the house but we twain, and it was so that this woman's son was dead in the night; for she sleeping, overlaid and oppressed him, and she arose in the darkest of the night privily, and took my son from the side of me thy servant and laid him by her, and her son that was dead she laid by me. when i arose in the morning for to give milk to my son it appeared dead, whom i took beholding him diligently in the clear light, understood well anon that it was not my son that i had borne. the other woman answered and said: it was not so as thou sayest, but my son liveth and thine is dead. and contrary that other said: thou liest: my son liveth and thine is dead. thus in this wise they strove tofore the king. then the king said: this woman saith my son liveth and thine is dead, and this answereth nay, but thy son is dead, and mine liveth. then the king said: bring to me here a sword. when they had brought forth a sword the king said: divide ye, said he, the living child in two parts, and give that one half to that one, and that other half to that other. then said the woman that was mother of the living child to the king, for all her members and bowels were moved upon her son: i beseech and pray thee, my lord, give to her the child alive, and slay him not, and contrary said that other woman: let it not be given to me ne to thee, but let it be divided. the king then answered and said: give the living child to this woman, and let it not be slain; this is verily the mother. all israel heard how wisely the king had given this sentence and dreaded him, seeing that the wisdom of god was in him in deeming of rightful dooms. after this solomon sent his messengers to divers kings for cedar trees and for workmen, for to make and build a temple unto our lord. solomon was rich and glorious, and all the realms from the river of the ends of the philistines unto the end of egypt were accorded with him, and offered to him gifts and to serve him all the days of his life. solomon had daily for the meat of his household thirty measures, named chores, of corn, and sixty of meal, ten fat oxen, and twenty oxen of pasture and an hundred wethers, without venison that was taken, as harts, goats, bubals, and other flying fowls and birds. he obtained all the region that was from tiphsa unto azza, and had peace with all the kings of all the realms that were in every part round about him. in that time israel and judah dwelled without fear and dread, every each under his vine and fig tree from dan unto beersheba. solomon had forty thousand racks for the horses of his carts, chariots and cars, and twelve thousand for horses to ride on, by which prefects brought necessary things for the table of king solomon, with great diligence in their time. god gave to solomon much wisdom and prudence in his heart, like to the gravel that is in the sea-side, and the sapience and wisdom of solomon passed and went tofore the sapience of all them of the orient and of egypt, and he was the wisest of all men, and so he was named. he spake three thousand parables, and five thousand songs, and disputed upon all manner trees and virtue of them, from the cedar that is in lebanon unto the hissop that groweth on the wall, and discerned the properties of beasts, fowls, reptiles and fishes, and there came people from all regions of the world for to hear the wisdom of solomon, and solomon sent letters to hiram, king of tyre, for to have his men to cut cedar trees with his servants, and he would yield to them their hire and meed, and let him wit how that he would build and edify a temple to our lord. and hiram sent to him that he should have all that he desired, and sent to him cedar trees and other wood. and solomon sent to him corn in great number, and solomon and hiram confederated them together in love and friendship. solomon chose out workmen of all israel the number of thirty thousand men of whom he sent to lebanon ten thousand every month, and when ten thousand went the others came home, and so two months were they at home, and adonias was overseer and commander on them. solomon had seventy thousand men that did nothing but bear stone and mortar and other things to the edifying of the temple, and were bearers of burdens only, and he had eighty thousand of hewers of stone and masons in the mountain, without the prefects and masters, which were three thousand three hundred that did nothing but command and oversee them that wrought. solomon commanded the workmen to make square stones, great and precious, for to lay in the foundament, which the masons of israel and masons of hiram hewed, and the carpenters made ready the timber. then began solomon the temple to our lord, in the fourth year of his reign he began to build the temple. the house that he builded had seventy cubits in length, and twenty cubits in breadth, and thirty in height, and the porch tofore the temple was twenty cubits long after the measure of the breadth of the temple, and had ten cubits of breadth tofore the face of the temple, and for to write the curiosity and work of the temple, and the necessaries, the tables and cost that was done in gold, silver and latten, it passeth my cunning to express and english them. ye that be clerks may see it in the second book of kings and the second book of paralipomenon. it is wonder to hear the costs and expenses that was made in that temple, but i pass over. it was on making seven years, and his palace was thirteen years ere it was finished. he made in the temple an altar of pure gold, and a table to set on the loaves of proposition of gold, five candlesticks of gold on the right side and five on the left side, and many other things, and took all the vessels of gold and silver that his father david had sanctified and hallowed, and brought them into the treasury of the house of our lord. after this he assembled all the noblest and greatest of birth of them of israel, with the princes of the tribes and dukes of the families, for to bring the ark of god from the city of david, sion, into the temple. and the priests and levites took the ark and bare it and all the vessels of the sanctuary that were in the tabernacle. king solomon, with all the multitude of the children that were there, went tofore the ark and offered sheep and oxen without estimation and number. and the priests set the ark in the house of our lord in the oracle of the temple, in sancta sanctorum, under the wings of cherubim. in the ark was nothing but the two tables of moses of stone which moses had put in. and then solomon blessed our lord tofore all the people, and thanked him that he had suffered him to make an house unto his name, and besought our lord that he whosomever prayed our lord for any petition in that temple, that he of his mercy would hear him and be merciful to him. and our lord appeared to him when the edifice was accomplished perfectly, and said to solomon: i have heard thy prayer and thine oration that thou hast prayed tofore me. i have sanctified and hallowed this house that thou hast edified for to put my name therein for evermore, and my eyes and heart shall be thereon always. and if thou walk before me like as thy father walked in the simplicity of heart and in equity, and wilt do all that i have commanded thee, and keep my judgments and laws, i shall set the throne of thy reign upon israel evermore, like as i have said to thy father david, saying: there shall not be taken away a man of thy generation from the reign and seat of israel. if ye avert and turn from me, ye and your sons, not following ne keeping my commandments and ceremonies that i have showed tofore you, but go and worship strange gods, and honor them, i shall cast away israel from the face of the earth that i have given to them, and the temple that i have hallowed to my name, i shall cast it away from my sight. and it shall be a fable and proverb, and thy house an example shall be to all people; every man that shall go thereby shall be abashed and astonied, and shall say: why hath god done thus to this land and to thy house? and they shall answer: for they have forsaken their lord god that brought them out of the land of egypt, and have followed strange gods, and them adored and worshipped, and therefore god hath brought on them all this evil: here may every man take ensample how perilous and dreadful it is to break the commandment of god. twenty years after that solomon had edified the temple of god and his house, and finished it perfectly, hiram the king of tyre went for to see towns that solomon had given to him, and they pleased him not. hiram had sent to king solomon an hundred and twenty besants of gold, which he had spent on the temple and his house, and on the wall of jerusalem and other towns and places that he had made. solomon was rich and glorious that the fame ran, of his sapience and wisdom and of his building and dispense in his house, through the world, insomuch that the queen of sheba came from far countries to see him and to tempt him in demands and questions. and she came into jerusalem with much people and riches, with camels charged with aromatics and gold infinite. and she came and spake to king solomon all that ever she had in her heart. and solomon taught her in all that ever she purposed tofore him. she could say nothing but that the king answered to her, there was nothing hid from him. the queen of sheba then seeing all the wisdom of solomon, the house that he had builded, and the meat and service of his table, the habitacles of his servants, the order of the ministers, their clothing and array, his butlers and officers, and the sacrifices that he offered in the house of our lord, when she saw all these things, she had no spirit to answer, but she said to king solomon: the word is true that i heard in my land, of thy words and thy wisdom, and i believed not them that told it to me, unto the time that i myself came and have seen it with mine eyes, and i have now well seen and proved that the half was not told to me. thy sapience is more, and thy works also, than the tidings that i heard. blessed be thy servants, and blessed be these that stand always tofore thee and hear thy sapience and wisdom, and thy lord god be blessed whom thou hast pleased, and hath set thee upon the throne of israel, for so much as god of israel loveth thee and hath ordained thee a king for to do righteousness and justice. she gave then to the king an hundred and twenty besants of gold, many aromatics, and gems precious. there were never seen tofore so many aromatics ne so sweet odors smelling as the queen of sheba gave to king solomon. king solomon gave to the queen of sheba all that ever she desired and demanded of him, and after returned into her country and land. the weight of pure gold that was offered every year to solomon was six hundred and sixty-six talents of gold, except that that the merchants offered, and all they that sold, and all the kings of arabia and dukes of that land. solomon made two hundred shields of the purest gold and set them in the house of lebanon; he made him also a throne of ivory which was great and was clad with gold, which had six grees or steps, which was richly wrought with two lions of gold holding the seat above, and twelve small lions standing upon the steps, on every each twain, here and there. there was never such a work in no realm. and all the vessels that king solomon drank of were of gold, and the ceiling of the house of lebanon in which his shields of gold were in was of the most pure gold. silver was of no price in the days of king solomon, for the navy of the king, with the navy of hiram, went in three years once into tarsis and brought them thence gold and silver, teeth of elephants and great riches. the king solomon was magnified above all the kings of the world in riches and wisdom, and all the world desired to see the cheer and visage of solomon, and to hear his wisdom that god had given to him. every man brought to him gifts, vessels of gold and silver, clothes and armor for war, aromatics, horses and mules every year. solomon gathered together chariots and horsemen; he had a thousand four hundred chariots and cars, and twelve thousand horsemen, and were lodged in small cities and towns about jerusalem by the king. there was as great abundance and plenty of gold and silver in those days in jerusalem as stones or sycamores that grow in the field, and horses were brought to him from egypt and chao. what shall i all day write of the riches, glory and magnificence of king solomon? it was so great that it cannot be expressed, for there was never none like to him, ne never shall none come after him like unto him. he made the book of the parables containing thirty-one chapters, the book of the canticles, the book of ecclesiastes, containing twelve chapters, and the book of sapience containing nineteen chapters. this king solomon loved overmuch women, and specially strange women of other sects; as king pharaoh's daughters and many other of the gentiles. he had seven hundred wives which were as queens, and three hundred concubines, and these women turned his heart. for when he was old he so doted and loved them that they made him honor their strange gods, and worshipped ashtareth, chemosh and moloch, idols of zidonia, of moabites, and ammonites, and made to them tabernacles for to please his wives and concubines, wherefore god was wroth with him, and said to him: because thou hast not observed my precepts and my commandments that i commanded thee, i shall cut thy kingdom and divide it and give it to thy servant but not in thy day, i shall not do it for love that i had to david thy father; but from the hand of thy son i shall cut it but not all, i shall reserve to him one tribe for david's love, and jerusalem that i have chosen. and after this divers kings became adversaries to solomon, and was never in peace after. it is said, but i find it not in the bible, that solomon repented him much of this sin of idolatry and did much penance therefor, for he let him be drawn through jerusalem and beat himself with rods and scourges, that the blood flowed in the sight of all the people. he reigned upon all israel in jerusalem forty years, and died and was buried with his fathers in the city of david, and rehoboam his son reigned after him. the history of rehoboam after solomon, reigned his son rehoboam. he came to sichem and thither came all the people for to ordain him king. jeroboam and all the multitude of israel spake to rehoboam, and said: thy father set on us an hard yoke and great impositions, now thou hast not so much need, therefore less it and minish it, and ease us of the great and hard burden and we shall serve thee. rehoboam answered and said: go ye and come again the third day and ye shall have an answer. when the people was departed, rehoboam made a counsel of the seniors and old men that had assisted his father solomon whiles he lived, and said to them: what say ye? and counsel me that i may answer to the people, which said to rohoboam: if thou wilt obey and agree to this people, and agree to their petition, and speak fair and friendly to them, they shall serve thee always. but rehoboam forsook the counsel of the old men, and called the young men that were of his age, and asked of them counsel. and the young men that had been nourished with him bade him say to the people in this wise: is not my finger greater than the back of my father? if my father hath laid on you a heavy burden, i shall add and put more to your burden; my father beat you with scourges, and i shall beat you with scorpions. the third day after, jeroboam and all the people came to rehoboam to have their answer, and rehoboam left the counsel of the old men, and said to them like as the young men had counselled him. and anon the people of israel forsook rehoboam, and of twelve tribes, there abode with him no more but the tribe of judah and benjamin. and the other ten tribes departed and made jeroboam their king, and never returned unto the house of david after unto this day. and thus for sin of solomon, and because rehoboam would not do after the counsel of the old men, but was counselled by young men, the ten tribes of israel forsook him, and departed from jerusalem, and served jeroboam, and ordained him king upon israel. anon after this, jeroboam fell to idolatry and great division was ever after between the kings of judah and the kings of israel. and so reigned divers kings each after other in jerusalem after rehoboam, and in israel after jeroboam. and here i leave all the history and make an end of the book of kings for this time, etc. for ye that list to know how every king reigned after other, ye may find it in the first chapter of saint matthew which is read on christmas day in the morning before te deum, which is the genealogy of our lady. a little maid by theodore t. munger [from "lamps and paths," by courtesy of houghton, mifflin & co.] in old days we read of angels who came and took men by the hand, and led them away from the city of destruction. we see no white-robed angels now; yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, and they are gently guided toward a bright and calm land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be that of a little child.--george eliot as aromatic plants bestow no spicy fragrance while they grow, but crushed, or trodden to the ground, diffuse their balmy sweets around. --goldsmith: _the captivity_ _"now naaman, captain of the host of the king of syria, was a great man with his master, and honorable, because by him the lord had given deliverance unto syria: he was also a mighty man in valor, but he was a leper. and the syrians had gone out by companies, and had brought away captive out of the land of israel a little maid; and she waited on naaman's wife. and she said unto her mistress. would god my lord were with the prophet that is in samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy."_--2 kings v. 1-3 i think upon the whole that old stories are better than new ones; i mean, stories of old times. it is perhaps because only the very best are remembered while the poorer ones are forgotten, so that those which have come down to us through past ages are the choice ones selected from a great number that pleased people for a while, but not well nor long enough to get fixed in their minds. of all old stories, i hardly know a better one than this of naaman and the little maid from samaria. it is full of human nature; that is, it shows that people acted and felt three thousand years ago just as they do now: they were kind and sympathetic, and proud and grateful and covetous and deceitful, just as people are nowadays. and the story has a fine romantic setting; that is, its incidents take hold of our fancy and charm us;--a little girl stolen in war and carried to a foreign country and put into the house of a great general, who falls very ill and is cured in a wonderful way, and so on. i think it will please us all to hear it over again. syria and israel stood to each other very much like germany and switzerland. one was a great, rich country, with fine rivers like the rhine and danube, and a capital city so beautiful that it was called "the eye of the east"; while israel was a small country, full of mountains, and with only one small river that ran nearly dry in summer. to tell the truth, syria looked down on israel, and--what is worse--often made war on it. in those days war was even more cruel and senseless than it is now; for it was not confined to the armies that fought and captured one another, but extended to women and children, who were often seized, carried away from their homes into the country of the enemy, and made slaves. it is bad and senseless enough for men to stand up and stab one another as they used to in old times, or shoot one another as they do now; but to carry a mother away from her children, or take a little girl away from her home and playmates and make a slave of her, is something worse. but it was often done in those ancient days, as you will learn when you read history, and the story of the siege of troy, which sprang out of stealing a beautiful woman. there were frequent wars between syria and israel. israel had once conquered syria, and syria had broken away, and so it went on back and forth, year after year. when our story begins, naaman, a great general, had delivered his country from israel, and brought home with him a little hebrew girl, who was so beautiful and sweet in her ways that he gave her to his wife on his return from the war. a strange present, you say, but it proved a very valuable one. it seems to us very cruel. one would think that if naaman and his wife loved this little girl--and i am sure they did--they would have sent her back to her home, for she must have had a heartbreaking time of it at first; but people were not kind in that way in those days. yes, i am sure they loved her and were kind to her, for the simple reason that she evidently loved them; and i am also sure that the reason they loved her was that they could not help it, as we shall see further on. not long after the war, naaman was attacked with a disease so dreadful and repulsive that i cannot describe it to you. let us be thankful that leprosy is unknown here. it is not only incurable, but as it goes on it becomes so terrible that one cannot stay at home with his family, but must go out and live alone, or with other lepers, and wait for death, which often does not happen for years. it was a sad time for the great naaman when he discovered that it had seized him. he felt well and strong, but the fearful signs made it sure. it was a sadder time when he told his wife; for both knew that the day would soon come when they could no longer stay together at home, and that he must leave beautiful damascus, and give up his place in the army, and go off into the mountains and live alone, or with others like himself. the saddest feature of all was that there was no hope: all this was sure to take place. if you have ever been in a house where some one is very ill and likely to die, or some terrible accident has occurred, you have felt what a gloom overhangs it, and have been glad to escape from it and get out under the open sky. but our little hebrew girl could not escape. she must stay through it all, and wait on naaman's wife, and see her weep and naaman's strong face grow sadder every day. now i think we shall begin to see what a rare, noble, sweet child this was that we are talking about. what a pity that we do not know her name--for she is a nameless child! i would like to call her anna if i had any right to leave off the _h_ that the hebrews put before and after this beautiful name. and i should not change it by turning the _a_ at the close into _ie_, as so many young people--and older ones, too, who ought to know better--are in the habit of doing; for i never could understand why girls with so noble names as anna and mary and helen and margaret and caroline should change them into the weak and silly forms that we hear every day. this change, which usually shortens the name and ends it with an _ie_, is called a _diminutive_, which, according to worcester, means "a thing little of its kind," and so may well enough be used in the nursery; but that grown women should use it seems to me foolish and even ignoble, and i often fear it may indicate a lack of fine sentiment. we do not know the name of our little maiden, but we can safely imagine her appearance for two reasons: we know her circumstances and her character. is it not quite sure that when naaman selected from his captives a little girl to wait on his wife, he would take the most beautiful one? when we make presents to those we love, we always get the best we can. now we can go a step further, and ask what made her beautiful _in such a way_ that naaman thought she would please his wife. it must have been her sweet and amiable expression; and that came from her character, for nothing else can make beauty of this sort. and so we picture her with black, wavy hair and soft, dark eyes, with red cheeks glowing through an olive-colored skin, lips like a pomegranate, a sweet, patient, loving expression, and a voice "gentle and low" and full of sympathy and readiness. i am very sure about her voice and expression, because i know her character. i never have seen any one with a loving and helpful spirit who had not a gentle voice and a sweet expression. i think she must have been about twelve years old; for if she had been younger she would not have known all about elisha, and if older she would not have been called "a _little_ maid." when the trouble came upon naaman's family, she felt it grievously, and was more attentive and gentle in her services than ever. just here she showed the beauty of her character. she had been cruelly wronged--stolen away from her country and home, and made a slave without hope of ever seeing them again--and so might naturally feel revengeful, and say that naaman's leprosy was a punishment for the wrong he had done her. but instead she pitied him, and in her sympathy with his sufferings forgot her own. so, as she brooded on the trouble, she happened to remember one day that elisha had cured people who were very ill, and done many wonderful things, and she said to her mistress, "would god my lord were with the prophet that is in samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy." probably naaman's wife questioned her closely about elisha, and got at all she knew about him, and so heard about the child that fell sick among the reapers, and the poor widow whose two sons were to be sold as slaves, and the mantle of elijah, that elisha had caught upon the banks of the jordan, with which he smote the waters. at any rate, she heard enough to awaken some hope, and so told her husband what our little maid had said. when people are hopelessly ill, they are willing to try anything; a drowning man will catch at a straw, and naaman caught at this little straw of hope that the wind of war had blown across his path. he thought it over and said to himself, "it is my only chance; no one here can do anything for me. i will go down to samaria and find elisha. i have often heard that the prophets there did wonderful things; if what the little maid says of the boy among the reapers is true, perhaps elisha can cure me." and so he went; but it was very humiliating. he thought of israel and the little city of samaria and the jordan in a scornful way, comparing them with his splendid damascus, and its green, beautiful plain, thirty miles wide, and the great river abana, that gushed from the side of the mountain, and flowed through and all about the city, making the whole country one vast garden. he despised, too, the people of israel. they were rude and poor and ignorant, while his own people were rich and cultivated. perhaps he had borne himself proudly when he was at war there; and now to go back and ask favors--to ask for himself what he could not get at home--was humiliating indeed. but he made the best of it; and to cover his pride and make it seem as though he were not asking favors, he took with him an immense amount of silver and gold, and ten suits of raiment--perhaps of linen _damask_, that was first made in damascus. i shall not follow the story further, except to say that because naaman went in such a proud spirit, elisha used every means to make him humble. he seemed to be anxious to send naaman home, not only a well, but a better man, and to teach him that there were other things to be thought of than great rivers, and fine cities, and temples of rimmon. especially he wanted to teach him that the one, true god could make a small, rough nation greater and stronger than one that worshipped idols. naaman went home cured of his leprosy, with some earth to make an altar of, and all his gold and silver and fine garments, except what the foolish gehazi got from him by lying. how naaman proposed to act when he should get home and be forced to go with the king into the temple of rimmon, you will find discussed in the second chapter of the second part of "school days at rugby." my opinion is that elisha told him he must settle that matter with his own conscience; but i can imagine that when he had worshipped god before the altar built of the earth brought from the jordan, and then went into the temple of rimmon and did what the king did, his conscience must have troubled him. but i care a great deal more for our little maid than for naaman. i wonder what became of her. if naaman did what he ought, he sent her back to her home, and gave her all the gold and silver he had offered to elisha. i am quite inclined to believe this for several reasons. naaman was a _reasonable_ man. when he was told to "go and wash himself seven times in jordan," he was surprised and angry, because it was so different from what he had expected, and because he thought it was an insult to his own great rivers. but when his servants reminded him that it was just as easy to do a little thing as a great thing, he saw the wisdom of it, and let good sense triumph over pride. he was also a _generous_ man, as the gifts he offered to elisha show. and he was _conscientious_, or he would not have asked elisha about bowing down in the temple of rimmon as a part of his duty to the king. all through he showed himself _grateful_. yes; i think he went back to syria not only with "the flesh of a little child," but with a child's heart. and because he was reasonable and generous and conscientious and grateful, he did not forget the little maid who was at the bottom of the whole affair. he owed quite as much to her as to elisha; for people who start good enterprises deserve more praise and reward than those who carry them out. so, when he reached home and met his wife and children--why, it was almost like coming back from the dead!--his first thought must have been of the little maid. we can imagine the great naaman taking her in his arms with tears, and saying, "what can i do for you, my little maid? tell me what you most want, and i will give it to you, even if it is the half of my possessions." we know that eastern princes often said such things when their fancy or their gratitude was deeply stirred; they gave full course to all their feelings, good and bad. perhaps she had become fond of naaman's wife, and would like to stay with her. perhaps they told her they would adopt her, and clothe her with rich damask and jewels of gold and silver. but i doubt if she was a child who cared more for such things than for her parents and her home. and as she heard the story of naaman's cure, and of elisha and the jordan, her mind went back to her native land and to her home, and a great longing filled her heart to see it again, and to live the old life with her parents and brothers and sisters. the jews do not easily forget their country nor their families; and this little maid was a true jewess. it might be a fine thing to live in a palace and wear jewels, but she would rather go home, and tend the sheep and goats, and pick the grapes, and go to the fountain for water. perhaps she had lived on the slope of hermon, where the dew fell heavily every night, and the brooks ran full all summer; for naaman's march home led near it. we found her in damascus a slave; but we will leave her at home among the vines and flowers and kids, with father and mother and mates, for sh'e was a child who lived in her affections rather than in her ambitions. the chief thing she teaches us is the beauty and blessedness of returning good for evil. long before christ's day she was christ's own child; for she loved her enemies, and prayed for those who had persecuted her. here followeth the history of job _read on the first sunday of september_ there was a man in the land of uz named job, and this man was simple, rightful and dreading god, and going from all evil. he had seven sons and three daughters, and his possession was seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred asses, and his family and household passing much and great. he was a great man and rich among all the men of the orient. and his sons went daily each to other house making great feasts, ever each one as his day came, and they sent for their three sisters for to eat and drink with them. when they had thus feasted each other, job sent to them and blessed and sanctified them, and rising every day early, he offered sacrifices for them all, saying: lest my children sin and bless not god in their hearts. and thus did job every day. on a day when the sons of god were tofore our lord, satan came and was among them, to whom our lord said: whence comest thou? which answered, i have gone round about the earth and through walked it. our lord said to him: hast thou not considered my servant job, that there is none like unto him in the earth, a man simple, rightful, dreading god, and going from evil? to whom satan answered: doth job dread god idly? if so were that thou overthrewest him, his house and all his substance round about, he should soon forsake thee. thou hast blest the work of his hands, and his possession is increased much in the earth, but stretch out thy hand a little, and touch all that he hath in possession, and he shall soon grudge and not bless thee. then said our lord to satan: lo! all that which he owneth and hath in possession, i will it be in thy hand and power, but on his person ne body set not thy hand. satan departed and went from the face of our lord. on a day as his sons and daughters ate, and drank wine, in the house of the oldest brother, there came a messenger to job which said: the oxen eared in the plough and the ass pastured in the pasture by them, and the men of sabea ran on them, and smote thy servants, and slew them with sword, and i only escaped for to come and to show it to thee. and whiles he spake came another and said: the fire of god fell down from heaven and hath burned thy sheep and servants and consumed them, and i only escaped for to come and show it to thee. and yet whiles he spake came another and said: the chaldees made three hosts and have enveigled thy camels and taken them, and have slain thy servants with sword, and i only escaped for to bring thee word. and yet he speaking another entered in and said: thy sons and daughters, drinking wine in the house of thy first begotten son, suddenly came a vehement wind from the region of desert and smote the four corners of the house, which falling oppressed thy children, and they be all dead, and i only fled for to tell it to thee. then job arose, and cut his coat, and did do shave his head, and falling down to the ground, worshipped and adored god, saying: i am come out naked from the womb of my mother and naked shall return again thereto. our lord hath given and our lord hath taken away, as it hath pleased our lord, so it is done, the name of our lord be blessed. in all these things job sinned not with his lips, ne spake nothing follily against our lord, but took it all patiently. after this it was so that on a certain day when the children of god stood tofore our lord, satan came and stood among them, and god said to him: whence comest thou? to whom satan answered: i have gone round the earth, and walked through it. and god said to satan, hast thou not considered my servant job that there is no man like him in the earth, a man simple, rightful, dreading god, and going from evil, and yet retaining his innocency? thou hast moved me against him that i should put him to affliction without cause. to whom satan said: skin for skin, and all that ever a man hath he shall give for his soul. nevertheless, stretch thine hand and touch his mouth and his flesh, and thou shalt see that he shall not bless thee. then said god to satan: i will well that his body be in thine hand, but save his soul and his life. then satan departed from the face of our lord and smote job with the worst blotches and blains from the plant of his foot, unto the top of his head, which was made like a lazar [leper] and was cast out and sat on the dunghill. then came his wife to him and said: yet thou abidest in thy simpleness, forsake thy god and bless him no more, and go die. then job said to her: thou hast spoken like a foolish woman; if we have received and taken good things of the hand of our lord, why shall we not sustain and suffer evil things? in all these things job sinned not with his lips. then three men that were friends of job, hearing what harm was happed and come to job, came ever each one from his place to him, that one was named eliphas the temanite, another bildad the shuhite, and the third, zophar naamathite. and when they saw him from far they knew him not, and crying they wept. they came for to comfort him, and when they considered his misery they tare their clothes and cast dust on their heads, and sat by him seven days and seven nights, and no man spake to him a word, seeing his sorrow. then after that job and they talked and spake together of his sorrow and misery, of which s. gregory hath made a great book called: the morals of s. gregory, which is a noble book and a great work. but i pass over all the matters and return unto the end, how god restored job again to prosperity. it was so that when these three friends of job had been long with job, and had said many things each of them to job, and job again to them, our lord was wroth with these three men and said to them: ye have not spoken rightfully, as my servant job hath spoken. take ye therefore seven bulls and seven wethers and go to my servant job and offer ye sacrifice for you. job my servant shall pray for you. i shall receive his prayer and shall take his visage. they went forth and did as our lord commanded them. and our lord beheld the visage of job, and saw his penance when he prayed for his friends. and our lord added to job double of all that job had possessed. all his brethren came to him, and all his sisters, and all they that tofore had known him, and ate with him in his house, and moved their heads upon him, and comforted him upon all the evil that god had sent to him. and each of them gave him a sheep and a gold ring for his ears. our lord blessed more job in his last days than he did in the beginning. and he had then after fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand yoke of oxen, one thousand asses. and he had seven sons and three daughters. and the first daughter's name was jemima, the second kezia, and the third keren-happuch. there was nowhere found in the world so fair women as were the daughters of job. their father job gave to them heritage among their brethren, and thus job by his patience gat so much love of god, that he was restored double of all his losses. and job lived after, one hundred and forty years, and saw his sons and the sons of his sons unto the fourth generation, and died an old man, and full of days. the destruction of sennacherib the assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, and his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, and the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, when the blue wave rolls nightly on deep galilee. like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, that host with their banners at sunset were seen; like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, that host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. for the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, and breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; and the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, and their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still. and there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, but through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride: and the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, and cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. and there lay the rider, distorted and pale, with the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; and the tents were all silent, the banners alone, the lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. and the widows of ashur are loud in their wail, and the idols are broke in the temple of baal, and the might of the gentile, unsmote by the sword, hath melted like snow in the glance of the lord! _--lord byron_ here followeth the history of tobit _which is read the third sunday of september_ tobit of the tribe and of the city of nephthali, which is in the overparts of galilee upon aser, after the way that leadeth men westward, having on his left side the city of sepheth, was taken in the days of salmanazar, king of the assyrians, and put in captivity, yet he forsook not the way of truth, but all that he had or could get he departed daily with his brethren of his kindred which were prisoners with him. and howbeit that he was youngest in all the tribe of nephthali yet did he nothing childishly. also when all other went unto the golden calves that jeroboam, king of israel, had made, this tobit only fled the fellowship of them all, and went to jerusalem into the temple of our lord. and there he adored and worshipped the lord god of israel, offering truly his first fruits and tithes insomuch that in the third year he ministered unto proselytes and strangers all the tithe. such things and other like to these he observed while he was a child, and when he came to age and was a man he took a wife named anna, of his tribe, and begat on her a son, naming after his own name tobias, whom from his childhood he taught to dread god and abstain him from all sin. then after when he was brought by captiviy with his wife and his son into the city of nineveh with all his tribe, and when all ate of the meats of the gentiles and paynims, this tobit kept his soul clean and was never defouled in the meats of them. and because he remembered our lord in all his heart, god gave him grace to be in the favor of salmanazar the king which gave to him power to go where he would. having liberty to do what he would, he went then to all them in captivity and gave to them warnings of health. when he came on a time in rages, city of the jews, he had such gifts as he had been honored with of the king, ten besants of silver. and when he saw one gabael being needy which was of his tribe, he lent him the said weight of silver upon his obligation. long time after this when salmanazar the king was dead, sennacherib his son reigned for him, and hated, and loved not, the children of israel. and tobit went unto all his kindred and comforted them, and divided to every each of them as he might of his faculties and goods. he fed the hungry and gave to the naked clothes, and diligently he buried the dead men and them that were slain. after this when sennacherib returned, fleeing the plague from the jewry, that god had sent him for his blasphemy, and he, being wroth, slew many of the children of israel, and tobit always buried the bodies of them, which was told to the king, which commanded to slay him, and took away all his substance. tobit then with his wife and his son hid him and fled away all naked, for many loved him well. after this, forty-five days, the sons of the king slew the king, and then returned tobit unto his house, and all his faculties and goods were restored to him again. after this on a high festival day of our lord when that tobit had a good dinner in his house, he said to his son: go and fetch to us some of our tribe dreading god, that they may come and eat with us. and he went forth and anon he returned telling to his father that one of the children of israel was slain and lay dead in the street. and anon he leapt out of his house, leaving his meat, and fasting came to the, body, took it and bare it in to his house privily, that he might secretly bury it when the sun went down. and when he had hid the corpse, he ate his meat with wailing and dread, remembering that word that our lord said by amos the prophet: the day of your feast shall be turned into lamentation and wailing. and when the sun was gone down he went and buried him. all his neighbors reproved and chid him, saying for this cause they were commanded to be slain, and unnethe [hardly] thou escapedst the commandment of death, and yet thou buriest dead men. but tobit, more dreading god than the king, took up the bodies of dead men and hid them in his house, and at midnight he buried them. it happed on a day after this that when he was weary of burying dead men, he came home and laid him down by a wall and slept. and he became blind. this temptation suffered god to fall to him, that it should be an example to them that shall come after him of his patience, like as it was of holy job. for from his infancy he dreaded ever god and kept his precepts and was not grudging against god for his blindness, but he abode immovable in the dread of god, giving and rendering thankings to god all the days of his life. for like as job was assailed so was tobit assailed of his kinsmen, scorning him and saying to him: where is now thy hope and reward for which thou gavest thy alms and madest sepulchres? tobit blamed them for such words, saying to them: in no wise say ye not so, for we be the sons of holy men, and we abide that life that god shall give to them that never shall change their faith from him. anna his wife went daily to the work of weaving, and got by the labor of her hands their livelihood as much as she might. whereof on a day she gat a kid and brought it home. when tobit heard the voice of the kid bleating, he said: see that it be not stolen, yield it again to the owner, for it is not lawful for us to eat ne touch anything that is stolen. to that his wife all angry answered: now manifestly and openly is thine hope made vain, and thy alms lost. and thus with such and like words she chid him. then tobit began to sigh and began to pray our lord with tears saying: o lord, thou art rightful, and all thy dooms be true, and all thy ways be mercy, truth, and righteousness. and now, lord, remember me, and take now no vengeance of my sins, ne remember not my trespasses, ne the sins of my fathers. for'we have not obeyed thy commandments, therefore we be betaken in to direption, captivity, death, fables, and into reproof and shame to all nations in which thou hast dispersed us. and now, lord, great be thy judgments, for we have not done according to thy precepts, ne have not walked well tofore thee. and now, lord, do to me after thy will, and command my spirit to be received in peace, it is more expedient to me to die than to live. the same day it happed that sara, daughter of raguel in the city of medes, that she was rebuked and heard reproof of one of the handmaidens of her father. for she had been given to seven men, and a devil named asmodeus slew them as soon as they would have gone to her; therefore the maid reproved her saying: we shall never see son ne daughter of thee on the earth, thou slayer of thy husbands. wilt thou slay me as thou hast slain seven men? with this voice and rebuke she went up in the upperest cubicle of the house. and three days and three nights she ate not, ne drank not, but was continually in prayers beseeching god for to deliver her from this reproof and shame. and on the third day, when she had accomplished her prayer, blessing our lord she said: blessed be thy name, god of our fathers, for when thou art wroth thou shalt do mercy and in a time of tribulation thou forgivest sins to them that call to thee. unto thee, lord, i convert my visage, and unto thee i address mine eyes. i ask and require thee that thou assoil me from the bond of the reproof and shame, or certainly upon the earth keep me. thou knowest well, lord, that i never desired man, but i have kept clean my soul. i never meddled me with players, ne never had part of them that walk in lightness. i consented for to take an husband with thy dread. or i was unworthy to them or haply they were unworthy to me, or haply thou hast conserved and kept me for some other man. thy counsel is not in man's power. this knoweth every man that worshippeth thee, for the life of him if it be in probation shall be crowned, and if it be in tribulation it shall be delivered, and if it be in correction, it shall be lawful to come to mercy. thou hast none delectation in our perdition, for after tempest thou makest tranquillity, and after weeping and shedding of tears thou bringest in exultation and joy. thy name, god of israel, be blessed, world without end. in that same time were the prayers of them both heard in the sight of the glory of the high god. and the holy angel of god, raphael, was sent to heal them both. of whom in one time were the prayers recited in the sight of our lord god. then when tobit supposed his prayers to be heard that he might die, he called to him his son tobias, and said to him: hear, my son, the words of my mouth, and set them in thy heart as a fundament. when god shall take away my soul, bury my body, and thou shalt worship thy mother all the days of her life, thou owest to remember what and how many perils she hath suffered for thee in her womb. when she shall have accomplished the time of her life, bury her by me. all the days of thy life have god in thy mind, and beware that thou never consent to sin, ne to disobey ne break the commandments of god. of thy substance do alms, and turn never thy face from any poor man, so do that god turn not his face from thee. as much as thou mayst, be merciful, if thou have much good give abundantly, if thou have but little, yet study to give and to depart thereof gladly, for thou makest to thee thereof good treasure and meed in the day of necessity, for alms delivereth a man from all sin and from death, and suffereth not his soul to go in to darkness. alms is a great sikerness [surety] tofore the high god unto all them that do it. beware, my son, keep thee from all uncleanness, and suffer not thyself to know that sin; and suffer never pride to have domination in thy wit, ne in thy word, that sin was the beginning of all perdition. whosomever work to thee any thing, anon yield to him his meed and hire, let never the hire of thy servant ne meed of thy mercenary remain in no wise with thee. that thou hatest to be done to thee of other, see that thou never do to an other. eat thy bread with the hungry and needy, and cover the naked with thy clothes. ordain thy bread and wine upon the sepulture of a righteous man, but eat it not ne drink it with sinners. ask and demand counsel of a wise man. always and in every time bless god and desire of him that he address thy ways, and let all thy counsels abide in him. i tell to thee, my son, that when thou wert a little child i lent to gabael ten besants of silver, dwelling in rages the city of medes, upon an obligation, which i have by me. and therefore spere [search] and ask how thou mayst go to him, and thou shalt receive of him the said weight of silver and restore to him his obligation. dread thou not, my son; though we lead a poor life, we shall have much good if we dread god and go from sin and do well. then young tobias answered to his father: all that thou hast commanded me i shall do, father; but how i shall get this money i wot never; he knoweth not me, ne i know not him; what token shall i give him? and also i know not the way thither. then his father answered to him and said: i have his obligation by me, which when thou shewest him, anon he shall pay thee. but go now first and seek for thee some true man, that for his hire shall go with thee whiles i live, that thou mayst receive it. then tobias went forth and found a fair young man girt up and ready for to walk, and not knowing that it was the angel of god, saluted him and said: from whence have we thee, good young man? and he answered: of the children of israel. and tobias said to him: knowest thou the way that leadeth one into the region of medes? to whom he answered: i know it well, and all the journeys i have oft walked and have dwelled with gabael our brother which dwelled in rages the city of medes, which standeth in the hill of ecbathanis. to whom tobias said: i pray thee tary here a while till i have told this to my father. then tobias went in to his father and told to him all these things, whereon his father marvelled and prayed him that he should bring him in. then the angel came in and saluted the old tobit and said: joy be to thee always. and tobit said: what joy shall be to me that sit in darkness, and see not the light of heaven. to whom the youngling said: be of strong belief; it shall not be long but of god thou shalt be cured and healed. then said tobit to him: mayst thou lead my son unto gabael in rages city of medes, and when thou comest again i shall restore to thee thy meed. and the angel said: i shall lead him thither and bring him again to thee. to whom tobit said: i pray thee to tell me of what house or of what kindred art thou. to whom raphael the angel said: thou needest not to ask the kindred of him that shall go with thy son, but lest haply i should not deliver him to thee again: i am azarias son of great ananias. tobit answered: thou art of a great kindred, but i pray thee be not wroth, though i would know thy kindred. the angel said to him: i shall safely lead thy son thither, and safely bring him and render him to thee again. tobit then answered saying: well mote ye walk, and our lord be in your journey, and his angel fellowship with you. then, when all was ready that they should have with them by the way, young tobias took leave of his father and mother, and bade them farewell. when they should depart the mother began to weep and say: thou has taken away and sent from us the staff of our old age, would god that thilke [that] money had never been for which thou hast sent him, our poverty sufficeth enough to us that we might have seen our son. tobit said to her: weep not, our son shall come safely again and thine eyes shall see him. i believe that the good angel of god hath fellowship with him, and shall dispose all things that shall be needful to him, and that he shall return again to us with joy. with this the mother ceased of her weeping and was still. then young tobias went forth and an hound followed him. and the first mansion [stay] that they made was by the river of tigris, and tobias went out for to wash his feet, and there came a great fish for to devour him, whom tobias fearing cried out with a great voice: lord, he cometh on me, and the angel said to him: take him by the fin and draw him to thee. and so he did and drew him out of the water to the dry land. then said the angel to him: open the fish and take to thee the heart, the gall, and the milt, and keep them by thee; they be profitable and necessary for medicines. and when he had done so he roasted of the fish, and took it with them for to eat by the way, and the remnant they salted, that it might suffice them till they came into the city of rages. then tobias demanded of the angel and said: i pray thee, azarias, brother, to tell me whereto these be good that thou hast bidden me keep. and the angel answered and said: if thou take a little of his heart and put it on the coals, the smoke and fume thereof driveth away all manner kind of devils, be it from man or from woman, in such wise that he shall no more come to them. and tobias said: where wilt thou that we shall abide? and he answered and said: hereby is a man named raguel, a man nigh to thy kindred and tribe, and he hath a daughter named sara, he hath neither son ne daughter more than her. thou shalt owe all his substance, for thee behoveth to take her to thy wife. then toby answered and said: i have heard say that she hath been given to seven men, and they be dead, and i have heard that a devil slayeth them. i dread therefore that it might hap so to me, and i that am an only son to my father and mother, i should depose their old age with heaviness and sorrow to hell. then raphael the angel said to him: hear me, and i shall show thee wherewith thou mayst prevail against that devil; these that took their wedlock in such wise that they exclude god from them and their mind, the devil hath power upon them. thou therefore when thou shalt take a wife, and enterest into her cubicle, be thou continent by the space of three days from her, and thou shalt do nothing but be in prayers with her: and that same night put the heart of the fish on the fire, and that shall put away the devil, and after the third night thou shalt take the virgin with dread of god, that thou mayst follow the blessing of abraham in his seed. then they went and entered into raguel's house, and raguel received them joyously, and raguel, beholding well tobias, said to anna his wife: how like is this young man unto my cousin! and when he had so said he asked them: whence be ye, young men my brethren? and they said: of the tribe of nephthalim, of the captivity of nineveh. raguel said to them: know ye tobit my brother? which said: we know him well. when raguel had spoken much good of him, the angel said to raguel: tobit of whom thou demandest is father of this young man. and then went raguel, and with weeping eyes kissed him, and weeping upon his neck said: the blessing of god be to thee, my son, for thou art son of a blessed and good man. and anna his wife and sara his daughter wept also. and after they had spoken, raguel commanded to slay a wether, and make ready a feast. when he then should bid them sit down to dinner, tobias said: i shall not eat here this day ne drink but if thou first grant to me my petition, and promise to me to give me sara thy daughter. which when raguel heard he was astonied and abashed, knowing what had fallen to seven men that tofore had wedded her, and dreaded lest it might happen to this young man in likewise. and when he held his peace and would give him none answer the angel said to him: be not afeard to give thy daughter to this man dreading god, for to him thy daughter is ordained to be his wife, therefore none other may have her. then said raguel: i doubt not god hath admitted my prayers and tears in his sight, and i believe that therefore he hath made you to come to me that these may be joined in one kindred after the law of moses, and now have no doubt but i shall give her to thee. and he taking the right hand of his daughter delivered it to tobias saying: god of abraham, god of isaac, and god of jacob be with you, and he conjoin you together and fulfil his blessing in you. and took a charter and wrote the conscription of the wedlock. and after this they ate, blessing our lord god. raguel called to him anna his wife and bade her to make ready another cubicle. and she brought sara her daughter therein, and she wept, to whom her mother said: be thou strong of heart, my daughter, our lord of heaven give to thee joy for the heaviness that thou hast suffered. after they had supped, they led the young man to her. tobias remembered the words of the angel, and took out of his bag part of the heart of the fish, and laid it on burning coals. then raphael the angel took the devil and bound him in the upperest desert of egypt. then tobias exhorted the virgin and said to her: arise, sara, and let us pray to god this day, and to-morrow, and after to-morrow, for these three nights we be joined to god. and after the third night we shall be in our wedlock. we be soothly the children of saints, and we may not so join together as people do that know not god. then they both arising prayed together instantly that health might be given to them. tobias said: lord god of our fathers, heaven and earth, sea, wells, and floods, and all creatures that be in them, bless thee. thou madest adam of the slime of the earth, and gavest to him for an help eve, and now, lord, thou knowest that i take my sister to wife, only for the love of posterity, in which thy name be blessed world without end. then said sara: have mercy on us, lord, have mercy, and let us wax old both together in health. and after this the cocks began to crow, at which time raguel commanded his servants to come to him, and they together went for to make and delve a sepulchre. he said: lest haply it happen to him as it hath happed to the seven men that wedded her. when they had made ready the foss and pit, raguel returned to his wife and said to her: send one of thy handmaidens, and let her see if he be dead, that he may be buried ere it be light day. and she sent forth one of her servants, which entered into the cubicle and found them both safe and whole, and sleeping together, and she returned and brought good tidings. and raguel and anna blessed our lord god and said: we bless thee, lord god of israel, that it hath not happed to us as we supposed; thou hast done to us thy mercy, and thou hast excluded from us our enemy pursuing us, thou hast done mercy on two only children. make them, lord, to bless thee to full, and to offer to thee sacrifice of praising and of their health, that the university of peoples may know that thou art god only in the universal earth. anon then raguel commanded his servants to fill again the pit that they had made ere it waxed light, and bade his wife to ordain a feast, and make all ready that were necessary to meat. he did do slay two fat kine and four wethers, and to ordain meat for all his neighbors and friends, and raguel desired and adjured tobias that he should abide with him two weeks. of all that ever raguel had in possession of goods he gave half part to tobias, and made to him a writing that the other half part he should have after the death of him and his wife. then tobias called the angel to him, which he trowed had been a man, and said to him: azarias, brother, i pray thee to take heed to my words; if i make myself servant to thee i shall not be worthy to satisfy thy providence. nevertheless i pray thee to take to thee the beasts and servants and go to gabael in rages the city of medes, and render to him his obligation, and receive of them the money and pray him to come to my wedding. thou knowest thyself that my father numbereth the days of my being out, and if i tarry more his soul shall be heavy, and certainly thou seest how raguel hath adjured me, whose desire i may not despise. then raphael, taking four of the servants of raguel and two camels, went to rages the city of medes, and there finding gabael, gave to him his obligation and received all the money, and told to him of tobias, son of tobit, all that was done, and made him come with him to the wedding. when then he entered the house of raguel, he found tobias sitting at meat, and came to him and kissed him, and gabael wept and blessed god saying: god of israel bless thee, for thou art son of the best man and just, dreading god and doing alms, and the blessing be said upon thy wife and your parents, and that you may see the sons of your sons unto the third and fourth generation, and your seed be blessed of the god of israel, which reigneth in secula seculorum [forever]. and when all had said amen, they went to the feast. and with the dread of god they exercised the feast of their weddings. whiles that tobias tarried because of his marriage, his father tobit began to be heavy saying: trowest thou wherefore my son tarrieth and why he is holden there? trowest thou that gabael be dead, and no man is there that shall give him his money? he began to be sorry and heavy greatly, both he and anna his wife with him, and began both to weep because at the day set he came not home. his mother therefore wept with unmeasurable tears, and said: alas, my son, wherefore sent we thee to go this pilgrimage? the light of our eyes, the staff of our age, the solace of our life, the hope of our posterity, all these only having in thee, we ought not to have let thee go from us. to whom tobit said: be still and trouble thee not, our son is safe enough, the man is true and faithful enough with whom we sent him. she might in no wise be comforted, but every day she went and looked and espied the way that he should come if she might see him come from far. then raguel said to tobias his son-in-law: abide here with me, and i shall send messengers of thy health and welfare to tobit thy father. to whom tobias said: i know well that my father and my mother accompt the days, and the spirit is in great pain within them. raguel prayed him with many words, but tobias would in no wise grant him. then he delivered to him sara his daughter, and half part of all his substance in servants, men and women, in beasts, camels, in kine and much money. and safe and joyful he let him depart from him, saying: the angel of god that is holy be in your journey, and bring you home whole and sound, and that ye may find all things well and rightful about your father and mother, and that mine eyes may see your sons ere i die. and the father and mother taking their daughter kissed her and let her depart, warning her to worship her husband's father and mother, love her husband, to rule well the meiny [retinue], to govern the house and to keep herself irreprehensible, that is to say, without reproof. when they thus returned and departed, they came to charram, which is the half way to nineveh, the thirteenth day. then said the angel to tobias: tobias, brother, thou knowest how thou hast left thy father, if it please thee we will go tofore and let thy family come softly after, with thy wife and with thy beasts. this pleased well to tobias; and then said raphael to tobias: take with thee of the gall of the fish, it shall be necessary. tobias took of the gall and went forth tofore. anna his mother sat every day by the way in the top of the hill, from whence she might see him come from far, and whilst she sat there and looked after his coming, she saw afar and knew her son coming, and running home she told to her husband saying: lo! thy son cometh. raphael then said to young tobias: anon as thou enterest in to the house adore thy lord god, and giving to him thankings, go to thy father and kiss him. and anon then anoint his eyes with the gall of the fish that thou bearest with thee, thou shalt well know that his eyes shall be opened, and thy father shall see the light of heaven and shall joy in thy sight. then ran the dog that followed him and had been with him in the way, and came home as a messenger, fawning and making joy with his tail. and the blind father arose and began offending his feet to run to meet his son, giving to him his hand, and so taking, kissed him with his wife, and began to weep for joy. when then they had worshipped god and thanked him, they sat down together. then tobias taking the gall of the fish anointed his father's eyes, and abode as it had been half an hour, and the slime of his eyes began to fall away like as it had been the white of an egg, which tobias took and drew from his father's eyes, and anon he received sight. and they glorified god, that is to wit he and his wife and all they that knew him. then said tobit the father: i bless thee, lord god of israel, for thou hast chastised me, and thou hast saved me, and, lo! i see tobias my son. after these seven days sara the wife of his son came and entered in with all the family, and the beasts whole and sound, camels and much money of his wife's, and also the money that he had received of gabael. and he told to his father and mother all the benefits of god that was done to him by the man that led him. then came achiacharus and nasbas, cousins of tobias, joying and thanking god of all the goods that god had showed to him. and seven days they ate together making feast, and were glad with great joy. then old tobit call his son tobias to him, and said: what may we give to this holy man that cometh with thee? then tobias answering said to his father: father, what meed may we give to him, or what may be worthy to him for his benefits? he led me out and hath brought me whole again, he received the money of gabael; he did me have my wife and he put away the devil from her; he hath made joy to my parents, and saved myself from devouring of the fish, and hath made thee see the light of heaven, and by him we be replenished with all goods; what may we then worthily give to him? wherefore i pray thee, father, that thou pray him if he vouchsafe to take the half of all that i have. then the father and the son calling him took him apart and began to pray him that he would vouchsafe to take half the part of all the goods that they had brought. then said he to them privily: bless ye god of heaven and before all living people knowledge ye him, for he hath done to you his mercy. forsooth to hide the sacrament of the king it is good, but for to show the works of god and to knowledge them it is worshipful. oration and prayer is good, with fasting and alms, and more than to set up treasures of gold. for alms delivereth from death, and it is she that purgeth sins and maketh a man to find everlasting life. who that do sin and wickedness they be enemies of his soul. i show to you therefore the truth and i shall not hide from you the secret word. when thou prayedst with tears and didst bury the dead men and leftest thy dinner and hiddest dead men by the day in thine house, and in the night thou buriedst them, i offered thy prayer unto god. and forasmuch as thou wert accepted tofore god, it was necessary, thou being tempted, that he should prove thee. and now hath our lord sent me for to cure thee, and sara the wife of thy son i have delivered from the devil. i am soothly raphael the angel, one of the seven which stand tofore our lord god. when they heard this they were troubled, and trembling fell down on their faces upon the ground. the angel said to them: peace be to you, dread you not. forsooth i was with you by the will of god, him alway bless ye and sing ye to him, i was seen of you to eat and drink, but i use meat and drink invisible, which of men may not be seen. it is now therefore time that i return to him which sent me. ye alway bless god and tell ye all his marvels. and when he had said this he was taken away from the sight of them, and after that they might no more see him. then they fell down flat on their faces by the space of three hours and blessed god, and arising up they told all the marvels of him. then the older tobit opening his mouth blessed our lord and said: great art thou, lord, evermore, and thy reign is in to all worlds, for thou scourgest and savest, thou leadest to hell and bringest again, and there is none that may flee thy hand. knowledge and confess you to the lord, ye children of israel, and in the sight of gentiles praise ye him. therefore he hath disperpled [scattered] you among gentiles that know him not, that ye tell his marvels, and make them to be known. for there is none other god almighty but he; he hath chastised us for our wickedness and he shall save us for his mercy. take heed and see therefore what he hath done to us, and with fear and dread, knowledge ye to him, and exalt him king of all worlds in your works. i soothly in the land of my captivity shall knowledge to him, for he hath showed his majesty into the sinful people. confess ye therefore sinners, and do ye justice tofore our lord by believing that he shall do to you his mercy, aye soothly, and my soul shall be glad in him. all ye chosen of god, bless ye him and make ye days of gladness and knowledge ye to him. jerusalem city of god, our lord hath chastised thee in the works of his hands, confess thou to our lord in his good things and bless thou the god of worlds that he may re-edify in thee his tabernacle, and that he may call again to thee all prisoners and them that be in captivity and that thou joy in omnia secula seculorum. thou shalt shine with a bright light, and all the ends of the earth shall worship thee. nations shall come to thee from far, and bringing gifts shall worship in thee our lord, and shall have thy land into sanctification. they shall call in thee a great name, they shall be cursed that shall despise thee, and they all shall be condemned that blaspheme thee. blessed be they that edify thee, thou shalt be joyful in thy sons, for all shall be blessed, and shall be gathered together unto our lord. blessed be they that love thee and that joy upon thy peace. my soul, bless thou our lord, for he hath delivered jerusalem his city. i shall be blessed if there be left of my seed for to see the clearness of jerusalem. the gates of jerusalem shall be edified of sapphire and emerald, and all the circuit of his walls of precious stone; all the streets thereof shall be paved with white stone and clean; and alleluia shall be sung by the ways thereof. blessed be the lord that hath exalted it that it may be his kingdom in secula seculorum, amen. and thus tobit finished these words. and tobit lived after he had received his sight forty-two years, and saw the sons of his nephews, that is, the sons of the sons of his son young tobias. and when he had lived one hundred and two years he died, and was honorably buried in the city of nineveh. he was fifty-six years old when he lost his sight, and when he was sixty years old he received his sight again. the residue of his life was in joy, and with good profit of the dread of god he departed in peace. in the hour of his death he called to him tobias his son, and seven of his young sons, his nephews, and said to them: the destruction of nineveh is nigh, the word of god shall not pass, and our brethren that be disperpled [scattered] from the land of israel shall return thither again. all the land thereof shall be fulfilled with desert, and the house that is burnt therein shall be re-edified, and thither shall return all people dreading god. and gentiles shall leave their idols and shall come in jerusalem and shall dwell, therein, and all the kings of the earth shall joy in her, worshipping the king of israel. hear ye therefore, my sons, me your father, serve ye god in truth and seek ye that ye do that may be pleasing to him, and command ye to your sons that they do righteousness and alms, that they may remember god and bless him in all time in truth and in all their virtue. now therefore, my sons, hear me and dwell ye no longer here, but whensoever your mother shall die, bury her by me and from then forthon dress ye your steps that ye go hence, i see well that wickedness shall make an end of it. it was so then after the death of his mother, tobias went from nineveh with his wife and his sons, and the sons of his sons, and returned unto his wife's father and mother, whom they found in good health and good age, and took the cure and charge of them, and were with them unto their death, and closed their eyes. and tobias received all the heritage of the house of raguel and saw the sons of his sons unto the fifth generation. and when he had complished ninety-nine years he died in the dread of god, and with joy they buried him. all his cognation [kindred] and all his generation [offspring] abode in good life and in holy conversation, and in such wise as they were acceptable as well to god as to men, and to all dwelling on the earth. here beginneth the story of judith _which is read the last sunday of october_ arpaxhad, king of the medes, subdued into his empire many peoples and edified a mighty city, which he named ecbatane, and made it with stones squared, and polished them. the walls thereof were of height seventy cubits, and of breadth thirty cubits, and the towers thereof were an hundred cubits high. and he glorified himself as he that was mighty in puissance and in the glory of his host and of his chariots. nebuchadnezzar then in the twelfth year of his reign, which was king of the assyrians, and reigned in the city of nineveh, fought against arphaxad and took him in the field, whereof nebuchadnezzar was exalted and enhanced himself, and sent unto all regions about and unto jerusalem till the mounts of ethiopia, for to obey and hold of him. which all gainsaid him with one will, and without worship sent home his messengers void, and set nought by him. then nebuchadnezzar, having them at great indignation, swore by his reign and by his throne that he would avenge him on them all, and thereupon called all his dukes, princes, and men of war, and held a counsel in which was decreed that he should subdue all the world unto his empire. and thereupon he ordained holofernes prince of his knighthood, and bade him go forth, and in especial against them that had despised his empire; and bade him spare no realm ne town but subdue all to him. then holofernes assembled dukes and masters of the strength of nebuchadnezzar, and numbered one hundred and twenty thousand footmen, and horsemen shooters twelve thousand. and tofore them he commanded to go a multitude of innumerable camels laden with such things as were needful to the host, as victual, gold and silver, much that was taken out of the treasury of the kings. and so went to many realms which he subdued; and occupied a great part of the orient till he came approaching the land of israel. and when the children of israel heard thereof they dreaded sore lest he should come among them into jerusalem and destroy the temple, for nebuchadnezzar had commanded that he should extinct all the gods of the earth, and that no god should be named ne worshipped but he himself, of all the nations that holofernes should subdue. eliachim, then priest in israel, wrote unto all them in the mountains that they should keep the strait ways of the mountains, and so the children of israel did as the priest had ordained. then eliachim, the priest, went about all israel and said to them: know ye that god hath heard your prayers, if ye abide and continue in your prayers and fastings in the sight of god. remember ye of moses, the servant of god, which overthrew amalek trusting in his strength, and in his power, in his host, in his helmets, in his chariots, and in his horsemen; not fighting with iron, but with praying of holy prayers. in like wise shall it be with all the enemies of israel if ye persevere in this work that ye have begun. with this exhortation they continued praying god. they persevered in the sight of god, and also they that offered to our lord were clad with sackcloth, and had ashes on their heads, and with all their heart they prayed god to visit his people israel. it was told to holofernes prince of the knighthood of the assyrians that the children of israel made them ready to resist him, and had closed the ways of the mountains, and he was burned in overmuch fury in great ire. he called all the princes of moab and dukes of ammon and said to them: say ye to me, what people is this that besiege the mountains, or what or how many cities have they? and what is their virtue, and what multitude is of them? or who is king of their knighthood? then achior, duke of all of them of ammon, answering said: if thou deignest to hear me i shall tell thee truth of this people that dwelleth in the mountains, and there shall not issue out of my mouth one false word. this people dwelled first in mesopotamia, and was of the progeny of the chaldees, but would not dwell there for they would not follow the gods of their fathers that were in the land of chaldees, and going and leaving the ceremonies of their fathers, which was in the multitude of many gods, they honored one, god of heaven, which commanded them to go thence that they should dwell in canaan. then after was there much hunger, that they descended into egypt, and there abode four hundred years, and multiplied that they might not be numbered. when the king of egypt grieved them in his buildings, bearing clay tiles, and subdued them, they cried to their lord, and he smote the land of egypt with divers plagues. when they of egypt had cast them out from them, the plagues ceased from them and then they would have taken them again and would have called them to their service, and they fleeing, their god opened the sea to them that they went through dry-foot, in which the innumerable host of the egyptians pursuing them were drowned, that there was not one of them saved for to tell to them that came after them. they passed thus the red sea, and he fed them with manna forty years, and made bitter waters sweet, and gave them water out of a stone. and wheresoever this people entered without bow or arrow, shield or sword, their god fought for them, and there is no man may prevail against this people but when they departed from the culture and honor of their god. and as oft as they have departed from their god and worshipped other strange gods, so oft have they been overcome with their enemies. and when they repent and come to the knowledge of their sin, and cry their god mercy, they be restored again, and their god giveth to them virtue to resist their enemies. they have overthrown cananeum the king, jebusee, pheresee, eneum, etheum and amoreum, and all the mighty men in esebon, and have taken their lands and cities and possess them, and shall, as long as they please their god. their god hateth wickedness, for tofore this time when they went from the laws that their god gave to them, he suffered them to be taken of many nations into captivity, and were disperpled. and now late they be come again and possess jerusalem wherein is sancta sanctorum, and be come over these mountains whereas some of them dwell. now therefore, my lord, see and search if there be any wickedness of them in the sight of their god, and then let us go to them, for their god shall give them into thy hands and they shall be subdued under the yoke of thy power. and when achior had said thus, all the great men about holofernes were angry and had thought for to have slain him, saying each to other: who is this that may make the children of israel resist the king nebuchadnezzar and his army and host? men cowards and without might and without any wisdom of war. therefore that achior may know that he saith not true, let us ascend the mountains, and when the mighty men of them be taken let him be slain with them, that all men may know that nebuchadnezzar is god of the earth, and that there is none other but he. then when they ceased to speak, holofernes having indignation said to achior: because thou hast prophesied to us of the children of israel saying, that their god defend them, i shall show to thee that there is no god but nebuchadnezzar, for whom we have overcome them all and slain them as one man, then shalt thou die with them by the sword of the assyrians, and all israel shall be put into ruin and perdition, and then shall be known that nebuchadnezzar is lord of all the earth, and the sword of my knighthood shall pass through thy sides. and thou shalt depart hence and go to them, and shalt not die unto the time that i have them and thee. and when i have slain them with my sword thou shalt in like wise be slain with like vengeance. after this holofernes commanded his servants to take achior, and lead him to bethulia and to put him in the hands of them of israel. and so they took achior and ascended the mountains, against whom came out men of war. then the servants of holofernes turned aside and bound achior to a tree hands and feet with cords, and left him and so returned to their lord. then the sons of israel coming down from bethulia loosed and unbound him, and brought him to bethulia, and he being set amid the people was demanded what he was, and why he was so sore there bounden. and he told to them all the matter like as it is aforesaid, and how holofernes had commanded him to be delivered unto them of israel. then all the people fell down on to their faces worshipping god, and with great lamentation and weeping, with one will made their prayers unto our lord god of heaven, and that he would behold the pride of them, and to the meekness of them of israel, and to take heed to the faces of his hallows and show to them his grace and not forsake them, and prayed god to have mercy on them and defend them from their enemies. and on that other side, holofernes commanded his hosts to go up and assail bethulia, and so went up, of footmen one hundred and twenty thousand, and twelve thousand horsemen, and besieged the town, and took their water from them, insomuch that they that were in the town were in great penury of water, for in all the town was not water enough for one day, and such as they had was given to the people by measure. then all the people young and old came to ozias which was their prince, with charmis and gothoniel, all with one voice crying: god the lord deem between us and thee, for thou hast done to us evil what thou spakest not peaceably with assyrians, for now we shall be delivered into the hands of them. it is better for us to live in captivity under holofernes and live, than to die here for thirst, and see our wives and children die before our eyes. and when they had made this piteous crying and yelling, they went all to their church, and there a long while prayed and cried unto god knowledging their sins and wickedness, meekly beseeching him to show his grace and pity on them. then at last ozias arose up, and said to the people: let us abide yet five days, and if god send us no rescue ne help us not in that time that we may give glory to his name, else we shall do as ye have said. and when that judith heard thereof, which was a widow and a blessed woman, and was left widow three years and six months. after that manasses her husband died, anon she went into the overest part of her house in which she made a privy bed, which she and her servants closed, and having on her body a hair [hair cloth], had fasted all the days of her life save sabbaths and new moons, and the feasts of the house of israel. she was a fair woman and her husband had left her much riches, with plentiful meiny, and possessions of droves of oxen and flocks of sheep, and she was a famous woman and dreaded god greatly. and when she had heard that ozias had said, that the fifth day the city should be given over if god helped them not, she sent for the priests chambris and charmis and said to them: what is this word in which ozias hath consented that the city should be delivered to the assyrians if within five days there come no help to us? and who be ye that tempt the lord god? this word is not to stir god to mercy but rather to arouse wrath and woodness. ye have set a time of mercy doing by god, and in your doom ye have ordained a day to him. o good lord, how patient is he, let us ask him for forgiveness with weeping tears; he shall not threaten as a man, ne inflame in wrath as a son of a man, therefore meek we our souls to him and in a contrite spirit and meeked, serve we to him, and say we weeping to god, that after his will he show to us his mercy, and as our heart is troubled in the pride of them, so also of our humbleness and meekness let us be joyful. for we have not followed the sin of our fathers that forsook their god and worshipped strange gods, wherefore they were given and be taken into hideous and great vengeance, into sword, ravin, and into confusion to their enemies; we forsooth know no other god but him. abide we meekly the comfort of him, and he shall keep us from our enemies and he shall make all gentiles that arise against him, and shall make them without worship the lord our god. and now ye brethren, ye that be priests, on whom hangeth the life of the people of god, pray ye unto almighty god that he make me steadfast in the purpose that i have proposed. ye shall stand at the gate and i shall go out with my handmaid. and pray ye the lord that he steadfast make my soul, and do ye nothing till i come again. and then judith went into her oratory, and arrayed her with her precious clothing and adornments, and took unto her handmaid certain victuals such as she might lawfully eat, and when she had made her prayers unto god she departed in her most noble array toward the gate, whereas ozias and the priests abode her, and when they saw her they marvelled of her beauty. notwithstanding they let her go, saying: god of our fathers give thee grace and strengthen all the counsel of thine heart with his virtue and glory to jerusalem, and be thy name in the number of saints and of righteous men. and they all that were there said: amen, and, fiat! fiat! [let it be done]. then she praising god passed through the gate, and her handmaid with her. and when she came down the hill, about the springing of the day, anon the spies of the assyrians took her saying: whence comest thou, or whither goest thou? the which answered: i am a daughter of the hebrews and flee from them, knowing that they shall be taken by you, and come to holofernes for to tell him their privities, and i shall show him by what entry he may win them, in such wise as one man of his host shall not perish. and the men that heard these words beheld her visage and wondered of her beauty, saying to her: thou hast saved thy life because thou hast founden such counsel, come therefore to our lord, for when thou shalt stand in his sight he shall accept thee. and they led her to the tabernacle of holofernes. and when she came before him anon holofernes was caught by his eyes, and his tyrant knights said to him: who despised the people of jews that have so fair women, that not for them of right we ought to fight against them? and so judith seeing holofernes sitting in his canape that was of purple, of gold, smaragdos and precious stones within woven, and when she had seen his face she honored him, falling down herself unto the earth. and the servants of holofernes took her up, he so commanding. then holofernes said to her: be thou not afeard ne dread thee not. i never grieved ne noyed man that would serve nebuchadnezzar. thy people soothly, if they had not despised me, i had not raised my people ne strength against them. now tell to me the cause why thou wentest from them, and that it hath pleased thee to come to us. and judith said: take the words of thine handmaid, and if thou follow them, a perfect thing god shall do with thee. forsooth nebuchadnezzar is the living king of the earth, and thou hast his power for to chastise all people, for men only serve not him, but also the beasts of the field obey to him, his might is known over all. and the children of israel shall be yielded to thee, for their god is angry with them for their wickedness. they be enfamined and lack bread and water, they be constrained to eat their horse and beasts, and to take such holy things as be forbidden in their law, as wheat, wine, and oil, all these things god hath showed to me. and they purpose to waste such things as they ought not touch, and therefore and for their sins they shall be put in the hands of their enemies, and our lord hath showed me these things to tell thee. and i thine handmaid shall worship god, and shall go out and pray him, and come in and tell thee what he shall say to me, in such wise that i shall bring thee through the middle of jerusalem, and thou shalt have all the people of israel under thee, as the sheep be under the shepherd, insomuch there shall not an hound burk against thee. and because these things be said to me by the providence of god, and that god is wroth with them, i am sent to tell thee these things. forsooth, all these words pleased much to holofernes, and to his people, and they marvelled of the wisdom of her. and one said to another. there is not such a woman upon earth in sight, in fairness, and in wit of words. and holofernes said to her: god hath done well that he hath sent thee hither for to let me have knowledge, and if thy god do to me these things he shall be my god, and thou and thy name shall be great in the house of nebuchadnezzar. then commanded holofernes her to go in where his treasure lay, and to abide there, and to give to her meat from his feast, to whom she said that she might not eat of his meat, but that she had brought meat with her for to eat. then holofernes said: when that meat faileth what shall we give to thee to eat? and judith said that she should not spend all till god shall do in my hands those things that i have thought. and the servants led her into his tabernacle, and she desired that she might go out in the night and before day to pray, and come in again. and the lord commanded his cubiculers that she should go and come at her pleasure three days during. and she went out into the valley of bethulia and baptized her in the water of the well. and she stretched her hands up to the god of israel, praying the good lord that he would govern her way for to deliver his people; and thus she did unto the fourth day. then holofernes made a great feast, and sent a man of his, named bagoas, for to entreat judith to come eat and drink with him. and judith said: what am i that should gainsay my lord's desire. i am at his commandment, whatsomever he will that i do, i shall do, and please him all the days of my life. and she rose and adorned herself with her rich and precious clothes, and went in and stood before holofernes, and holofernes' heart was pierced with her beauty, and he said to her: sit down and drink in joy, for thou hast found grace before me. judith said: i shall drink my lord, for my life is magnified this day before all the days of my life. and she ate and drank such as her handmaid had ordained for her. and holofernes was merry and drank so much wine that he never drank so much in one day in all his life, and was drunken. and at even, when it was night, holofernes went into his bed, and bagoas brought judith in to his chamber and closed the door. and when judith was alone in the chamber, and holofernes lay and slept in overmuch drunkenness, judith said to her handmaid that she should stand without forth before the door of the privy chamber and wait about, and judith stood before the bed praying with tears and with moving of her lips secretly, saying: o lord god of israel, conform me in this hour to the works of my hands, that thou raise up the city of jerusalem as thou hast promised, and that i may perform this that i have thought to do. and when she had thus said, she went to the pillar that was at his bed's head, and took his sword and loosed it, and when she had drawn it out, she took his hair in her hand and said: confirm me god of israel in this hour, and smote twice in the neck and cut off his head, and left the body lie still, and took the head and wrapped it in the canape and delivered it to her maid, and bade her to put it in her scrip, and they two went out after their usage to pray. and they passed the tents, and going about the valley came to the gate of the city, and judith said to the keepers of the walls: open the gates, for god is with us that hath done great virtue in israel. and anon when they heard her call, they called the priests of the city, and they came running for they had supposed no more to have seen her, and lighting lights all went about her. she then entered in and stood up in a high place and commanded silence, and said: praise ye the lord god that forsaketh not men hoping in him; and in me his handwoman, hath fulfilled his mercy that he promised to the house of israel, and hath slain in my hand the enemy of his people this night. and then she brought forth the head of holofernes and showed it to them, saying: lo! here the head of holofernes, prince of the chivalry of assyrians, and lo! the canape of him in which he lay in his drunkenhood, where our lord hath smitten him by the hand of a woman. forsooth god liveth, for his angel kept me hence going, there abiding, and from thence hither returning, and the lord hath not suffered me, his handwoman, to be defouled, but without pollution of sin hath called me again to you joying in his victory, in my escaping and in your deliverance. knowledge ye him all for good, for his mercy is everlasting, world without end. and all they, honoring our lord, said to her: the lord bless thee in his virtue, for by thee he hath brought our enemies to naught. then ozias, the prince of the people, said to her: blessed be thou of the high god before all women upon earth, and blessed be the lord that made heaven and earth, that hath addressed thee in the wounds of the head of the prince of our enemies. after this judith bade that the head should be hanged up on the walls, and at the sun rising every man in his arms issue out upon your enemies, and when their spies shall see you, they shall run into the tent of their prince, to raise him and to make him ready to fight, and when his lords shall see him dead, they shall be smitten with so great dread and fear that they shall flee, whom ye then shall pursue, and god shall bring them and tread them under your feet. then achior seeing the virtue of the god of israel, left his old heathen's customs and believed in god, and put himself to the people of israel, and all the succession of his kindred unto this day. then at the springing of the day they hung the head of holofernes on the walls, and every man took his arms and went out with great noise, which thing seeing, the spies ran together to the tabernacle of holofernes, and came making noise for to make him to arise, and that he should awake, but no man was so hardy to knock or enter into his privy chamber. but when the dukes and leaders of thousands came, and other, they said to the privy chamberlains: go and awake your lord, for the mice be gone out of their caves and be ready to call us to battle. then bagoas went into his privy chamber and stood before the curtain, and clapped his hands together. and when he perceived no moving of him, he drew the curtain and seeing the dead body of holofernes, without head, lying in his blood, cried with great voice, weeping and rending his clothes, and went in to the tabernacle of judith and found her not, and started out to the people and said: a woman of the hebrews hath made confusion in the house of nebuchadnezzar, she hath slain holofernes, and he is dead, and she hath his head with her. and when the princes and captains of the assyrians heard this, anon they rent their clothes, and intolerable dread fell on them, and were sore troubled in their wits and made a horrible cry in their tents. and when all the host had heard how holofernes was beheaded, counsel and mind flew from them, and with great trembling for succor began to flee, in such wise that none would speak with other, but with their heads bowed down fled for to escape from the hebrews, whom they saw armed coming upon them, and departed fleeing by fields and ways of hills and valleys. and the sons of israel, seeing them fleeing, following them, crying with trumps and shouting after them, and slew and smote down all them that they overtook. and ozias sent forth unto all the cities and regions of israel, and they sent after all the young men and valiant to pursue them by sword, and so they did unto the uttermost coasts of israel. the other men soothly, that were in bethulia, went in to the tents of the assyrians, and took all the prey that the assyrians had left, and when the men had pursued them were returned, they took all their beasts and all the movable goods and things that they had left, so much that every man from the most to the least were made rich by the prey that they took. then joachim the high bishop of jerusalem came unto bethulia, with all the priests, for to see judith, and when she came tofore them all, they blessed her with one voice, saying: thou glory of jerusalem, thou gladness of israel, thou the worship doing of our people, thou didst manly, and thy heart is comforted because thou lovedst chastity and knewest no man after the death of thy husband, and therefore the hand of god hath comforted thee. and therefore thou shalt be blessed world without end, and all the people said: fiat! fiat! be it done, be it done. certainly the spoils of the assyrians were unnethe gathered and assembled together in thirty days, of the people of israel, but all the proper riches that were appertaining to holofernes and could be found that had been his, they were given to judith as well gold, silver, gems, clothes, as all other appurtenances to household; and all was delivered to her of the people, and the folks, with women and maidens, joyed in organs and harps. then judith sang this song unto god saying: begin ye in timbrels, sing ye to the lord in cymbals, mannerly sing to him a new psalm. fully joy ye, and inwardly call ye his name, and so forth. and for this great miracle and victory all the people came to jerusalem for to give laud, honor, and worship unto our lord god. and after they were purified they offered sacrifices, vows, and behests unto god, and the joy of this victory was solemnized during three months, and after that, each went home again into his own city and house, and judith returned into bethulia, and was made more great and clear to all men of the land of israel. she was joined to the virtue of chastity, so that she knew no man all the days of her life after the death of manasses, her husband, and dwelled in the house of her husband an hundred and five years, and she left her demoiselle free. after this she died and is buried in bethulia and all the people bewailed her seven days. during her life after this journey was no trouble among the jews, and the day of this victory of the hebrews was accepted for a feastful day, and hallowed of the jews and numbered among their feasts unto this day. the vision of belshazzar the king was on his throne, the satraps throng'd the hall; a thousand bright lamps shone o'er that high festival. a thousand cups of gold, in judah deem'd divine-jehovah's vessels hold the godless heathen's wine. in that same hour and hall the fingers of a hand came forth against the wall, and wrote as if on sand: the fingers of a man;- a solitary hand along the letters ran, and traced them like a wand. the monarch saw, and shook, and bade no more rejoice; all bloodless wax'd his look, and tremulous his voice:-"let the men of lore appear, the wisest of the earth, and expound the words of fear, which mar our royal mirth." chaldea's seers are good, but here they have no skill; and the unknown letters stood untold and awful still. and babel's men of age are wise and deep in lore; but now they were not sage, they saw--but knew no more. a captive in the land, a stranger and a youth, he heard the king's command, he saw that writing's truth; the lamps around were bright, the prophecy in view; he read it on that night,- the morrow proved it true! "belshazzar's grave is made, his kingdom pass'd away, he, in the balance weigh'd, is light and worthless clay; the shroud, his robe of state; his canopy, the stone: the mede is at his gate! the persian on his throne!" _--lord byron_ a christmas carol as joseph was a-walking, he heard an angel sing, "this night shall be the birth-time of christ, the heavenly king. "he neither shall be born in housen nor in hall, nor in the place of paradise, but in an ox's stall. "he neither shall be clothed in purple nor in pall, but in the fair white linen that usen babies all. "he neither shall be rocked in silver nor in gold, but in a wooden manger that resteth on the mould." as joseph was a-walking, there did an angel sing, and mary's child at midnight was born to be our king. then be ye glad, good people, this night of all the year, and light ye up your candles, for his star it shineth clear. on the morning of christ's nativity this is the month, and this the happy morn wherein the son of heav'n's eternal king of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, our great redemption from above did bring; for so the holy sages once did sing, that he our deadly forfeit should release, and with his father work us a perpetual peace. that glorious form, that light unsufferable, and that far-beaming blaze of majesty wherewith he wont at heav'n's high council-table to sit the midst of trinal unity, he laid aside; and here with us to be, forsook the courts of everlasting day, and chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. say, heav'nly muse, shall not thy sacred vein afford a present to the infant god? hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, to welcome him to this his new abode, now while the heav'n by the sun's team untrod, hath took no print of the approaching light, and all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? see how from far, upon the eastern road the star-led wizards haste with odors sweet: o run, prevent them with thy humble ode, and lay it lowly at his blessèd feet; have thou the honor first thy lord to greet, and join thy voice unto the angel quire, from out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire. the hymn it was the winter wild while the heav'n-born child all meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; nature in awe to him had doff'd her gaudy trim, with her great master so to sympathize: it was no season then for her to wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. only with speeches fair she woos the gentle air to hide her guilty front with innocent snow, and on her naked shame, pollute with sinful blame, the saintly veil of maiden white to throw, confounded that her maker's eyes should look so near upon her foul deformities. but he, her fears to cease, sent down the meek-ey'd peace; she crown'd with olive-green, came softly sliding down through the turning sphere, his ready harbinger, with turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; and waving wide her myrtle wand, she strikes a universal peace through sea and land. no war, or battle's sound was heard the world around: the idle spear and shield were high up hung, the hooked chariot stood unstain'd with hostile blood, the trumpet spake not to the armed throng, and kings sat still with awful eye, as if they surely knew their sov'reign lord was by. but peaceful was the night, wherein the prince of light his reign of peace upon the earth began: the winds, with wonder whist, smoothly the waters kist, whispering new joys to the mild ocean, who now hath quite forgot to rave, while birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. the stars with deep amaze, stand fix'd in steadfast gaze, bending one way their precious influence, and will not take their flight, for all the morning light, or lucifer that often warn'd them thence; but in their glimmering orbs did glow, until their lord himself bespake, and bid them go, and though the shady gloom had given day her room, the sun himself withheld his wonted speed, and hid his head for shame, as his inferior flame the new-enlighten'd world no more should need; he saw a greater sun appear than his bright throne, or burning axle-tree, could bear. the shepherds on the lawn, or ere the point of dawn, sate simply chatting in a rustic row; full little thought they then that the mighty pan was kindly come to live with them below; perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. when such music sweet their hearts and ears did greet, as never was by mortal finger strook, divinely warbled voice answering the stringèd noise, as all their souls in blissful rapture took: the air, such pleasure loth to lose, with thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. nature that heard such sound, beneath the hollow round of cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling, now was almost won to think her part was done, and that her reign had here its last fulfilling; she knew such harmony alone could hold all heav'n and earth in happier union. at last surrounds their sight a globe of circular light, that with long beams the shamefac'd night array'd; the helmèd cherubim, and sworded seraphim, are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, harping in loud and solemn quire, with unexpressive notes to heaven's new-born heir. such music (as 'tis said) before was never made, but when of old the sons of morning sung, while the creator great his constellations set, and the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung, and cast the dark foundations deep, and bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep. ring out, ye crystal spheres, once bless our human ears, if ye have power to touch our senses so; and let your silver chime move in melodious time, and let the bass of heav'n's deep organ blow; and with your ninefold harmony make up full consort to th' angelic symphony. for if such holy song inwrap our fancy long, time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, and speckled vanity will sicken soon and die, and leprous sin will melt from earthly mould and hell itself will pass away, and leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. yea, truth and justice then will down return to men, orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, mercy will set between, throned in celestial sheen, with radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering: and heav'n, as at some festival, will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. but wisest fate says, no. this must not yet be so, the babe yet lies in smiling infancy, that on the bitter cross must redeem our loss; so both himself and us to glorify; yet first to those ychain'd in sleep, the wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep, with such a horrid clang as on mount sinai rang, while the red fire and smouldering clouds out-brake: the aged earth aghast, with terror of that blast, shall from the surface to the centre shake; when at the world's last sessiòn, the dreadful judge in middle air shall spread his throne. and then at last our bliss full and perfect is, but now begins; for from this happy day the old dragon under ground in straiter limits bound, not half so far casts his usurped sway, and wroth to see his kingdom fail, swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. the oracles are dumb, no voice or hideous hum runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving. apollo from his shrine can no more divine, with hollow shriek the steep of delphos leaving. no nightly trance or breathèd spell inspires the pale-ey'd priest from the prophetic cell. the lonely mountains o'er, and the resounding shore, a voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; from haunted spring and dale edg'd with poplar pale, the parting genius is with sighing sent; with flow'r-inwoven tresses torn the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. in consecrated earth, and on the holy hearth, the lars, and lemures moan with midnight plaint; in urns, and altars round, a drear and dying sound affrights the flamens at their service quaint; and the chill marble seems to sweat, while each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. peor and baälim forsake their temples dim, with that twice-batter'd god of palestine; and moonèd ashtaroth, heaven's queen and mother both, now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; the lybic hammon shrinks his horn. in vain the tyrian maids their wounded thammuz mourn. and sullen moloch fled, hath left in shadows dread his burning idol all of blackest hue; in vain with cymbals' ring they call the grisly king, in dismal dance about the furnace blue: the brutish gods of nile as fast, isis and orus, and the dog anubis haste. nor is osiris seen in memphian grove or green, trampling the unshow'r'd grass with lowings loud: nor can he be at rest within his sacred chest, naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud; in vain with timbrell'd anthems dark the sable-stolèd sorcerers bear his worship'd ark. he feels from juda's land the dreaded infant's hand, the rays of bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; not all the gods beside, longer dare abide, not typhon huge ending in snaky twine: our babe, to show his godhead true, can in his swaddling bands control the damnèd crew. so, when the sun in bed curtain'd with cloudy red pillows his chin upon an orient wave, the flocking shadows pale troop to the infernal jail, each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; and the yellow-skirted fays fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. but see, the virgin blest hath laid her babe to rest; time is, our tedious song should here have ending: heaven's youngest-teemèd star hath fix'd her polish'd car, her sleeping lord with handmaid lamp attending: and all about the courtly stable bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable. _--j. milton_ the burning babe as i in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, surprised i was with sudden heat, which made my heart to glow; and lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, a pretty babe, all burning bright, did in the air appear; who, scorchèd with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed, as though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed:-"alas!" quoth he, "but newly born, in fiery heats i fry, yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but i! my faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns; love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns; the fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals, the metal in this furnace wrought are men's defilèd souls, for which, as now on fire i am, to work them to their good, so will i melt into a bath to wash them in my blood."-with this he vanish'd out of sight, and swiftly shrunk away; and straight i called unto mind that it was christmasday. _--r. southwell_ a cradle song. hush! my dear, lie still and slumber; holy angels guard thy bed! heavenly blessings without number gently falling on thy head. sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, house and home, thy friends provide, all without thy care or payment all thy wants are well supplied. how much better thou'rt attended than the son of god could be, when from heaven he descended, and became a child like thee! soft and easy is thy cradle; coarse and hard thy saviour lay: when his birthplace was a stable, and his softest bed was hay. see the kindly shepherds round him, telling wonders from the sky! where they sought him, there they found him, with his virgin-mother by. see the lovely babe a-dressing: lovely infant, how he smiled! when he wept, the mother's blessing soothed and hush'd the holy child. lo, he slumbers in his manger, where the hornèd oxen fed; --peace, my darling! here's no danger! here's no ox a-near thy bed! --may'st thou live to know and fear him, trust and love him all thy days: then go dwell forever near him; see his face, and sing his praise. i could give thee thousand kisses, hoping what i most desire: not a mother's fondest wishes can to greater joys aspire. _--i. watts_ easter i got me flowers to straw thy way, i got me boughs off many a tree; but thou wast up by break of day, and brought'st thy sweets along with thee. the sun arising in the east, though he give light, and th' east perfume, if they should offer to contest with thy arising, they presume. can there be any day but this, though many suns to shine endeavor? we count three hundred, but we miss: there is but one, and that one ever. _--george herbert_ the life of st. peter the apostle st. peter the apostle among all other, and above all other, was of most fervent and burning love, for he would have known the traitor that should betray our lord jesu christ, as st. austin saith: if he had known him he would have torn him with his teeth, and therefore our lord would not name him to him, for as chrysostom, saith: if he had named him, peter had arisen and all to-torn him. peter went upon the sea; he was chosen of god to be at his transfiguration, and raised a maid from death to life; he found the stater or piece of money in the fish's mouth; he received of our lord the keys of the kingdom of heaven; he took the charge to feed the sheep of jesu christ. he converted at a whitsuntide three thousand men, he healed claude with john, and then converted five thousand men; he said to ananias and saphira their death before; he healed æneas of the palsy; he raised tabitha; he baptized cornelia; with the shadow of his body he healed sick men; he was put in prison by herod, but by the angel of our lord he was delivered. what his meat was and his clothing, the book of st. clement witnesseth, for he said: bread only with olives, and seldom with worts, is mine usage, and i have such clothing as thou seest, a coat and a mantle, and when i have that, i demand no more. it is said for certain that he bare always a sudary in his bosom, with which he wiped the tears that ran from his eyes; for when he remembered the sweet presence of our lord, for the great love that he had to him he might not forbear weeping. and also when he remembered that he had renied him, he wept abundantly great plenty of tears, in such wise that he was so accustomed to weep that his face was burned with tears as it seemed, like as clement saith. and saith also that in the night when he heard the cock crow he would weep customably. and after that it is read in historia ecclesiastica that, when st. peter's wife was led to her passion, he had great joy and called her by her proper name, and said to her: my wife, remember thee of our lord. on a time when st. peter had sent two of his disciples for to preach the faith of jesu christ, and when they had gone twenty days' journey, one of them died, and that other then returned to st. peter and told him what had happened, some say that it was st. marcial that so died, and some say it was st. maternus, and others say that it was st. frank. then st. peter gave to him his staff and commanded that he should return to his fellow, and lay it upon him, which he so did, then he which had been forty days dead, anon arose all living. that time simon the enchanter was in jerusalem, and he said he was first truth, and affirmed that who that would believe in him he would make them perpetual. and he also said that nothing to him was impossible. it is read in the book of st. clement that he said that he should be worshipped of all men as god, and that he might do all that he would. and he said yet more: when my mother rachel commanded me that i should go reap corn in the field, and saw the sickle ready to reap with, i commanded the sickle to reap by itself alone, and it reaped ten times more than any other. and yet he added hereto more, after jerome, and said: i am the word of god, i am the holy ghost, i am almighty, i am all that is of god. he made serpents of brass to move, and made the images of iron and of stone to laugh, and dogs to sing, and as st. linus saith, he would dispute with st. peter and show, at a day assigned, that he was god. and peter came to the place where the strife should be, and said to them that were there: peace to you brethren that love truth. to whom simon said: we have none need of thy peace, for if peace and concord were made, we should not profit to find the truth, for thieves have peace among them. and therefore desire no peace but battle, for when two men fight and one is overcome then is it peace. then said peter: why dreadest thou to hear of peace? of sins grow battles, where is no sin there is peace; in disputing is truth found, and in works righteousness. then said simon: it is not as thou sayest, but i shall show to thee the power of my dignity, that anon thou shalt adore me; i am first truth, and may flee by the air; i can make new trees and turn stones into bread; endure in the fire without hurting; and all that i will i may do. st. peter disputed against all these, and disclosed all his malefices. then simon magus, seeing that he might not resist peter, cast all his books into the sea, lest st. peter should prove him a magician, by his books, and went to rome where he was had and reputed as a god. and when peter knew that, he followed and came to rome. the fourth year of claudius the emperor, peter came to rome, and sat there twenty-five years, and ordained two bishops as his helpers, linus and cletus, one within the walls, and that other without. he entended much to preaching of the word of god, by which he converted much people to the faith of christ, and healed many sick men, and in his preaching always he praised and preferred chastity. he converted four concubines, of agrippa the provost, so that they would no more come to him, wherefore the provost sought occasion against peter. after this, our lord appeared to st. peter, saying to him: simon magus and nero purpose against thee, dread thee not, for i am with thee, and shall give to thee the solace of my servant paul, which to-morn shall come in to rome. then peter, knowing that he should not long abide here, assembled all his brethren, and took clement by the hand and ordained him a bishop, and made him to sit in his own seat. after this, as our lord had said tofore, paul came to rome, and with peter began to preach the faith of christ. simon magus was so much beloved of nero that he weened that he had been the keeper of his life, of his health, and of all the city. on a day, as leo the pope saith, as he stood tofore nero, suddenly his visage changed, now old and now young, which, when nero saw, he supposed that he had been the son of god. then said simon magus to nero: because that thou shalt know me to be the very son of god, command my head to be smitten off and i shall arise again the third day. then nero commanded to his brother to smite off his head, and when he supposed to have beheaded simon, he beheaded a ram. simon, by his art magic went away unhurt, and gathered together the members of the ram, and hid him three days. the blood of the ram abode and congealed. the third day he came and showed him to nero, saying: command my blood to be washed away, for lo i am he that was beheaded, and as i promised i have risen again the third day. whom nero seeing, was abashed and trowed verily that he had been the son of god. all this saith leo. sometime also, when he was with nero secretly within his conclave, the devil in his likeness spake without to the people. then the romans had him in such worship that they made to him an image, and wrote above, this title: to simon the holy god. peter and paul entered to nero and discovered all the enchantments and malefices of simon magus, and peter added thereto, seeing that like as in christ be two substances that is of god and man, so are in this magician two substances, that is of man and of the devil. then said simon magus, as st. marcelle and leo witness, lest i should suffer any longer this enemy, i shall command my angels that they shall avenge me on him. to whom peter said: i dread nothing thine angels, but they dread me. nero said: dreadest thou not simon, that by certain things affirmeth his godhead? to whom peter said: if dignity or godhead be in him let him tell now what i think or what i do, which thought i shall first tell to thee, that he shall not mow lie what i think. to whom nero said: come hither and say what thou thinkest. then peter went to him and said to him secretly: command some man to bring to me a barley-loaf, and deliver it to me privily. when it was taken to him, he blessed it, and hid it under his sleeve, and then said he: now simon say what i think, and have said and done. simon answered: let peter say what i think. peter answered: what simon thinketh that i know, i shall do it when he hath thought. then simon having indignation, cried aloud: i command that dogs come and devour him. and suddenly there appeared great dogs and made an assault against peter. he gave to them of the bread that he had blessed, and suddenly he made them to flee. then said peter to nero: lo! i have showed you what he thought against me, not in words but in deeds, for where he promised angels to come against me he brought dogs, thereby he showeth that he hath none angels but dogs. then said simon: hear ye, peter and paul; if i may not grieve you here, ye shall come where me it shall behove to judge you. i shall spare you here. hæc leo. then simon magus, as hegesippus and linus say, elate in pride avaunted him that he can raise dead men to life. and it happed that there was a young man dead, and then nero let call peter and simon, and all gave sentence by the will of simon that he should be slain that might not arise the dead man to life. simon then, as he made his incantations upon the dead body, he was seen move his head of them that stood by; then all they cried for to stone peter. peter unnethe getting silence said: if the dead body live, let him arise, walk and speak, else know ye that it is a fantasy that the head of the dead man moveth. let simon be taken from the bed. and the body abode immovable. peter standing afar making his prayer cried to the dead body, saying: young man, arise in the name of jesu christ of nazareth crucified, and anon, he arose living, and walked. then, when the people would have stoned simon magus, peter said: he is in pain enough, knowing him to be overcome in his heart; our master hath taught us for to do good for evil. then said simon to peter and paul: yet is it not come to you that ye desire, for ye be not worthy to have martyrdom, the which answered: that is, that we desire to have, to thee shall never be well, for thou liest all that thou sayest. then as marcel saith: simon went to the house of marcel and bound there a great black dog at the door of the house, and said: now i shall see if peter, which is accustomed to come hither, shall come, and if he come this dog shall strangle him. and a little after that, peter and paul went thither, and anon peter made the sign of the cross and unbound the hound, and the hound was as tame and meek as a lamb, and pursued none but simon, and went to him and took and cast him to the ground under him, and would have strangled him. and then ran peter to him and cried upon the hound that he should not do him any harm. and anon the hound left and touched not his body, but he all torent and tare his gown in such wise that he was almost naked. then all the people, and especially children, ran with the hound upon him and hunted and chased him out of the town as he had been a wolf. then for the reproof and shame he durst not come in to the town of all a whole year after. then marcel that was disciple of simon magus, seeing these great miracles, came to peter, and was from then forthon his disciple. and after, at the end of the year, simon returned and was received again into the amity of nero. and then, as leo saith, this simon magus assembled the people and showed to them how he had been angered of the galileans, and therefore he said that he would leave the city which he was wont to defend and keep, and set a day in which he would ascend into heaven, for he deigned no more to dwell in the earth. then on the day that he had stablished, like as he had said, he went up to an high tower, which was on the capitol, and there being crowned with laurel, threw himself out from place to place, and began to fly in the air. then said st. paul to st. peter: it appertaineth to me to pray, and to thee for to command. then said nero: this man is very god, and ye be two traitors. then said st. peter to st. paul: paul, brother, lift up thine head and see how simon flyeth. then st. paul said to st. peter when he saw him fly so high: peter, why tarriest thou? perform that thou hast begun, god now calleth us. then said peter: i charge and conjure you angels of sathanas, which bear him in the air, by the name of our lord jesu christ, that ye bear ne sustain him no more, but let him fall to the earth. and anon they let him fall to the ground and brake his neck and head, and he died there forthwith. and when nero heard say that simon was dead, and that he had lost such a man, he was sorrowful, and said to the apostles: ye have done this in despite of me, and therefore i shall destroy you by right evil example. hæc leo. then he delivered them to paulin, which was a much noble man, and paulin delivered them to mamertin under the keeping of two knights, processe and martinian, whom st. peter converted to the faith. and they then opened the prison and let them all go out that would go, wherefore, after the passion of the apostles, paulin, when he knew that they were christian, beheaded both processe and martinian. the brethren then, when the prison was opened, prayed peter to go thence, and he would not, but at the last he being overcome by their prayers went away. and when he came to the gate, as, leo witnesseth, which is called sancta maria ad passus, he met jesu christ coming against him, and peter said to him: lord, whither goest thou? and he said to him: i go to rome for to be crucified again, and peter demanded him: lord, shalt thou be crucified again? and he said: yea, and peter said then: lord, i shall return again then for to be crucified with thee. this said, our lord ascended into heaven, peter beholding it, which wept sore. and when peter understood that our lord had said to him of his passion, he returned, and when he came to his brethren, he told to them what our lord had said. and anon he was taken of the ministers of nero and was delivered to the provost agrippa, then was his face as clear as the sun, as it is said. then agrippa said to him: thou art he that glorifiest in the people, and in women, that thou departest from the bed of their husbands. whom the apostle blamed, and said to him that he glorified in the cross of the lord jesu christ. then peter was commanded to be crucified as a stranger, and because that paul was a citizen of rome it was commanded that his head should be smitten off. and of this sentence given against them, st. dionysius in an epistle to timothy saith in this wise: o my brother timothy, if thou hadst seen the agonies of the end of them thou shouldst have failed for heaviness and sorrow. who should not weep that hour when the commandment of the sentence was given against them, that peter should be crucified and paul be beheaded? thou shouldst then have seen the turbes of the jews and of the paynims that smote them and spit in their visages. and when the horrible time came of their end that they were departed that one from that other, they bound the pillars of the world, but that was not without wailing and weeping of the brethren. then said st. paul to st. peter: peace be with thee that are foundement of the church and pastor of the sheep and lambs of our lord. peter then said to paul: go thou in peace, preacher of good manners, mediator, leader, and solace of rightful people. and when they were withdrawn far from other i followed my master. they were not both slain in one street. this saith st. dionysius, and as leo the pope and marcel witness, when peter came to the cross, he said: when my lord descended from heaven to the earth he was put on the cross right up, but me whom it pleaseth him to call from the earth to heaven, my cross shall show my head to the earth and address my feet to heaven, for i am not worthy to be put on the cross like as my lord was, therefore turn my cross and crucify me my head downward. then they turned the cross, and fastened his feet upward and the head downward. then the people were angry against nero and the provost, and would have slain them because they made st. peter so to die; but he required them that they should not let his passion, and as leo witnesseth, our lord opened the eyes of them that were there, and wept so that, they saw the angels with crowns of roses and of lilies standing by peter that was on the cross with the angels. and then peter received a book of our lord, wherein he learned the words that he said. then as hegesippus saith: peter said thus: lord, i have desired much to follow thee, but to be crucified upright i have not usurped, thou art always rightful, high and sovereign, and we be sons of the first man which have the head inclined to the earth, of whom the fall signifieth the form of the generation human. also we be born that we be seen inclined to the earth by effect, and the condition is changed for the world weeneth that such thing is good, which is evil and bad. lord, thou art all things to me, and nothing is to me but thou only, i yield to thee thankings with all the spirit of which i live, by which i understand, and by whom i call thee. and when st. peter saw that the good christian men saw his glory, in yielding thankings to god and commending good people to him, he rendered up his spirit. then marcel and apuleius his brother, that were his disciples, took off the body from the cross when he was dead, and anointed it with much precious ointment, and buried him honorably. isidore saith in the book of the nativity and death of saints thus: peter, after that he had governed antioch, he founded a church under claudius the emperor, he went to rome against simon magus, there he preached the gospel twenty-five years and held the bishopric, and thirty-six years after the passion of our lord he was crucified by nero turned the head downward, for he would be so crucified: hæc isidorus. that same day peter and paul appeared to st. dionysius, as he saith in his foresaid epistle in these words: understand the miracle and see the prodigy, my brother timothy, of the day of the martyrdom of them, for i was ready in the time of departing of them. after their death i saw them together, hand in hand, entering the gates of the city, and clad with clothes of light, and arrayed with crowns of clearness and light. hæc dionysius. nero was not unpunished for their death and other great sins and tyrannies that he committed, for he slew himself with his own hand, which tyrannies were overlong to tell, but shortly i shall rehearse here some. he slew his master seneca because he was afraid of him when he went to school. also nero slew his mother. then for his pleasure he set rome afire, which burned seven days and seven nights, and was in a high tower and enjoyed him to see so great a flame of fire, and sang merrily. he slew the senators of rome to see what sorrow and lamentation their wives would make. he fished with nets of gold thread, and the garment that he had worn one day he would never wear it ne see it after. then the romans seeing his woodness [madness], assailed him and pursued him unto without the city, and when he saw he might not escape them, he took a stake and sharped it with his teeth, and therewith stuck himself through the body and so slew himself. in another place it is read that he was devoured of wolves. then the romans returned and found the frog, and threw it out of the city and there burned it. in the time of st. cornelius the pope, greeks stole away the bodies of the apostles peter and paul, but the devils that were in the idols were constrained by the divine virtue of god, and cried and said: ye men of rome, succor hastily your gods which be stolen from you; for which thing the good christian people understood that they were the bodies of peter and paul. and the paynims had supposed that it had been their gods. then assembled great number of christian men and of paynims also, and pursued so long the greeks that they doubted to have been slain, and threw the bodies in a pit at the catacombs, but afterward they were drawn out by christian men. st. gregory saith that the great force of thunder and lightning that came from heaven made them so afraid that they departed each from other, and so left the bodies of the apostles at the catacombs in a pit, but they doubted which bones were peter's and which paul's, wherefore the good christian men put them to prayers and fastings, and it was answered them from heaven that the great bones longed to the preacher, and the less to the fisher, and so were departed, and the bones were put in the church of him that it was dedicate of. and others say that silvester the pope would hallow the churches and took all the bones together, and departed them by weight, great and small, and put that one-half in one church, and that other half in that other. and st. gregory recounteth in his dialogues that, in the church of st. peter, where his bones rest, was a man of great holiness and of meekness named gentian, and there came a maid into the church which was cripple, and drew her body and legs after her with her hands, and when she had long required and prayed st. peter for health, he appeared to her in a vision, and said to her: go to gentian, my servant, and he shall restore thy health. then began she to creep here and there through the church, and inquired who was gentian, and suddenly it happed that he came to her that him sought, and she said to him: the holy apostle st. peter sent me to thee that thou shouldest make me whole and deliver me from my disease, and he answered: if thou be sent to me from him, arise thou anon and go on thy feet. and he took her by the hand and anon she was all whole, in such wise as she felt nothing of her grief nor malady, and then she thanked god and st. peter. and in the same book st. gregory saith when that a holy priest was come to the end of his life, he began to cry in great gladness: ye be welcome, my lords, ye be welcome that ye vouchsafe to come to so little and poor a servant, and he said: i shall come and thank you. then they that stood by demanded who they were that he spake to, and he said to them wondering: have ye not seen the blessed apostles peter and paul? and as he cried again, his blessed soul departed from the flesh. some have doubt whether peter and paul suffered death in one day, for some say it was the same one day, but one a year after the other. and jerome and all the saints that treat of this matter accord that it was on one day and one year, and so is it contained in an epistle of denis, and leo the pope saith the same in a sermon, saying: we suppose but that it was not done without cause that they suffered in one day and in one place the sentence of the tyrant, and they suffered death in one time, to the end that they should go together to jesu christ, and both under one persecutor to the end that equal cruelty should strain that one and that other. the day for their merit, the place for their glory, and the persecution overcome by virtue. though they suffered both death in one day and in one hour, yet it was not in one place but in diverse within rome, and hereof saith a versifier in this wise: ense coronatus paulus, cruce petrus, eodem--sub duce, luce, loco, dux nero, roma locus. that is to say, paul crowned with the sword, and peter had the cross reversed, the place was the city of rome. and howbeit that they suffered death in one day, yet st. gregory ordained that that day specially should be the solemnity of st. peter, and the next day commemoration of st. paul, for the church of st. peter was hallowed that same day, and also forasmuch as he was more in dignity, and first in conversion, and held the principality at rome. the life of st. paul the apostle st. paul the apostle, after his conversion, suffered many persecutions, the which the blessed hilary rehearseth shortly, saying: paul the apostle was beaten with rods at philippi, he was put in prison, and by the feet fast set in stocks, he was stoned in lystra. in iconia and thessalonica he was pursued of wicked people. in ephesus he was delivered to wild beasts. in damascus he was let by a lepe down of the wall. in jerusalem he was arrested, beaten, bound, and awaited to be slain. in cæsarea he was inclosed and defamed. sailing toward italy he was in peril of death, and from thence he came to rome and was judged under nero, and there finished his life. this saith st. hilary: paul took upon him to be apostle among the gentiles. in lystra was a contract which he lost and redressed. a young man that fell out of a window and died, he raised to life, and did many other miracles. at the isle of melita a serpent bit his hand, and hurted him not, and he threw it into the fire. it is said that all they that came of the progeny and lineage of that man that then harbored paul may in no wise be hurt of no venemous beasts, wherefore when their children be born they put serpents in their cradles for to prove if they be verily their children or no. in some place it is said that paul is less than peter, otherwhile more, and sometimes equal and like, for in dignity he is less, in preaching greater, and in holiness they be equal. haymo saith that paul, from the cock-crow until the hour of five, he labored with his hands, and after entended to preaching, and that endured almost to night, the residue of the time was for to eat, sleep, and for prayer, which was necessary. he came to rome when nero was not fully confirmed in the empire, and nero hearing that there was disputing and questions made between paul and the jews, he, recking not much thereof, suffered paul to go where he would, and preach freely. jeronimus saith in his book, de viris illustribus, that the thirty-sixth year after the passion of our lord, the second year of nero, st. paul was sent to rome bound, and two years he was in free keeping and disputed against the jews, and after, he was let go by nero, and preached the gospel in the west parts. and the fourteenth year of nero, the same year and day that peter was crucified, his head was smitten off. hæc jeronimus. the wisdom and religion of him was published over all, and was reputed marvellous. he gat to him many friends in the emperor's house and converted them to the faith of christ, and some of his writings were recited and read tofore the emperor, and of all men marvellously commended, and the senate understood of him by things of authority. it happed on a day that paul preached about evensong time in a loft, a young man named patroclus, butler of nero, and with him well-beloved, went for to see the multitude of people, and the better for to hear paul he went up into a window, and there sleeping, fell down and died, which when nero heard he was much sorry and heavy therefor, and anon ordered another in his office. paul knowing hereof by the holy ghost, said to them standing by him that they should go and bring to him patroclus, which was dead, and that the emperor loved so much. whom when he was brought, he raised to life and sent him with his fellows to the emperor, whom the emperor knew for dead, and, while he made lamentation for him, it was told to the emperor that patroclus was come to the gate. and when he heard that patroclus was alive he much marvelled, and commanded that he should come in. to whom nero said: patroclus, livest thou? and he said: yea, emperor, i live; and nero said: who hath made thee to live again? and he said: the lord jesu christ, king of all worlds. then nero being wroth said: then shall he reign ever and resolve all the royaumes of the world? to whom patroclus said: yea, certainly, emperor; then nero gave to him a buffet, saying: therefore thou servest him, and he said: yea, verily, i serve him that hath raised me from death to life. then five of the ministers of nero, that assisted him, said to him: o emperor, why smitest thou this young man, truly and wisely answering to thee? trust verily we serve that same king almighty. and when nero heard that he put them in prison, for strongly to torment them, whom he much had loved. then he made to inquire and to take all christian men, and without examination made them to be tormented with overgreat torments. then was paul among others bound and brought tofore nero, to whom nero said: o thou man, servant of the great king, bound tofore me, why withdrawest thou my knights and drawest them to thee? to whom paul said: not only from thy corner i have gathered knights, but also i gather from the universal world to my lord, to whom our king giveth such gifts that never shall fail, and granteth that they shall be excluded from all indigence and need; and if thou wilt be to him subject, thou shalt be safe, for he is of so great power that he shall come and judge all the world, and destroy the figure thereof by fire. and when nero heard that he should destroy the figure of the world by fire, he commanded that all the christian men should be burned by fire, and paul to be beheaded, as he that is guilty against his majesty. and so great a multitude of christian people were slain then, that the people of rome brake up his palace and cried and moved sedition against him, saying: cæsar, amend thy manners and attemper thy commandments, for these be our people that thou destroyest, and defend the empire of rome. the emperor then dreading the noise of the people, changed his decree and edict that no man should touch ne hurt no christian man till the emperor had otherwise ordained, wherefore paul was brought again tofore nero, whom as soon as nero saw, he cried and said: take away this wicked man and behead him, and suffer him no longer to live upon the earth. to whom paul said: nero, i shall suffer a little while, but i shall live eternally with my lord jesu christ. nero said: smite off his head, that he may understand me stronger than his king, that when he is overcome we may see whether he may live after. to whom paul said: to the end that thou know me to live everlastingly, when my head shall be smitten off, i shall appear to thee living, and then thou mayst know that christ is god of life and of death. and when he had said this he was led to the place of his martyrdom, and as he was led, the three knights that led him said to him: tell to us, paul, who is he your king that ye love so much that for his love ye had liefer die than live, and what reward shall ye have therefor? then paul preached to them of the kingdom of heaven and of the pain of hell, in such wise that he converted them to the faith, and they prayed him to go freely whither he would. god forbid, brethren, said he, that i should flee, i am not fugitive, but the lawful knight of christ. i know well that from this transitory life i shall go to everlasting life. as soon as i shall be beheaded, true men shall take away my body; mark ye well the place, and come thither to-morrow, and ye shall find by my sepulchre two men, luke and titus, praying. to whom when ye shall tell for what cause i have sent you to them, they shall baptize you and make you heirs of the kingdom of heaven. and whiles they thus spake together, nero sent two knights to look if he were slain and beheaded or no, and when thus st. paul would have converted them, they said: when thou art dead and risest again, then we shall believe, now come forth and receive that thou hast deserved. and as he was led to the place of his passion in the gate of hostence, a noble woman named plautilla, a disciple of paul, who after another name was called lemobia, for haply she had two names, met there with paul, which weeping, commended her to his prayers. to whom paul said: farewell, plautilla, daughter of everlasting health, lend to me thy veil or keverchief with which thou coverest thy head, that i may bind mine eyes therewith, and afterward i shall restore it to thee again. and when she had delivered it to him, the butchers scorned her, saying: why hast thou delivered to this enchanter so precious a cloth for to lose it? then, when he came to the place of his passion, he turned him toward the east, holding his hands up to heaven right long, with tears praying in his own language and thanking our lord; and after that bade his brethren farewell, and bound his eyes himself with the keverchief of plautilla, and kneeling down on both knees, stretched forth his neck, and so was beheaded. and as soon as the head was from the body, it said: jesus christus! which had been to him so sweet in his life. it is said that he named jesus or christus, or both, fifty times. from his wound sprang out milk into the clothes of the knight, and afterward flowed out blood. in the air was a great shining light, and from the body came a much sweet odor. dionysius, in an epistle to timothy, saith of the death of paul thus: in that hour full of heaviness, my well-beloved brother, the butcher, saying: paul, make ready thy neck; then blessed paul looked up into heaven marking his forehead and his breast with the sign of the cross, and then said anon: my lord jesus christ, into thy hands i commend my spirit, etc. and then without heaviness and compulsion he stretched forth his neck and received the crown of martyrdom, the butcher so smiting off his head. the blessed martyr paul took the keverchief, and unbound his eyes, and gathered up his own blood, and put it therein and delivered to the woman, then the butcher returned, and plautilla met him and demanded him, saying: where hast thou left my master? the knight answered: he lieth without the town with one of his fellows, and his visage is covered with thy keverchief, and she answered and said: i have now seen peter and paul enter into the city clad with right noble vestments, and also they had right fair crowns upon their heads, more clear and more shining than the sun, and hath brought again my keverchief all bloody which he hath delivered me. for which thing and work many believed in our lord and were baptized. and this is that st. dionysius saith. and when nero heard say this thing he doubted him, and began to speak of all these things with his philosophers and with his friends; and as they spake together of this matter, paul came in, and the gates shut, and stood tofore cæsar and said: cæsar, here is tofore thee paul the knight of the king perdurable, and not vanquished. now believe then certainly that i am not dead but alive, but thou, caitiff, thou shalt die of an evil death, because thou hast slain the servants of god. and when he had said thus he vanished away. and nero, what for dread and what for anger, he was nigh out of his wit, and wist not what to do. then by the counsel of his friends he unbound patroclus and barnabas and let them go where they would. and the other knights, longinus, master of the knights, and accestus, came on the morn to the sepulchre of paul, and there they found two men praying, that were luke and titus, and between them was paul. and when luke and titus saw them they were abashed and began to flee, and anon paul vanished away, and the knights cried after them and said: we come not to grieve you, but know ye for truth that we come for to be baptized of you, like as paul hath said whom we saw now praying with you. when they heard that they returned and baptized them with great joy. the head of st. paul was cast in a valley, and for the multitude of other heads of men that were slain and thrown there, it could not be known which it was. the life of st. christopher christopher tofore his baptism was named reprobus, but afterward he was named christopher, which is as much to say as bearing christ. christopher was of the lineage of the canaanites, and he was of a right great stature, and had a terrible and fearful cheer and countenance. and he was twelve cubits of length, and as it is read in some histories that, when he served and dwelled with the king of canaan, it came in his mind that he would seek the greatest prince that was in the world, and him would he serve and obey. and so far he went that he came to a right great king, of whom the renomee generally was that he was the greatest of the world. and when the king saw him, he received him into his service, and made him to dwell in his court. upon a time a minstrel sang tofore him a song in which he named oft the devil, and the king, which was a christian man, when he heard him name the devil, made anon the sign of the cross in his visage. and when christopher saw that, he had great marvel what sign it was, and wherefore the king made it, and he demanded of him. and because the king would not say, he said: if thou tell me not, i shall no longer dwell with thee, and then the king told to him, saying: alway when i hear the devil named, i fear that he should have power over me, and i garnish me with this sign that he grieve not ne annoy me. then christopher said to him: doubtest thou the devil that he hurt thee not? then is the devil more mighty and greater than thou art. i am then deceived of my hope and purpose, for i had supposed i had found the most mighty and the most greatest lord of the world, but i commend thee to god, for i will go seek him for to be my lord, and i his servant. and then departed from this king, and hasted him for to seek the devil. and as he went by a great desert, he saw a great company of knights, of which a knight cruel and horrible came to him and demanded whither he went, and christopher answered to him and said: i go seek the devil for to be my master. and he said: i am he that thou seekest. and then christopher was glad, and bound him to be his servant perpetual, and took him for his master and lord. and as they went together by a common way, they found there a cross, erect and standing. and anon as the devil saw the cross he was afeard and fled, and left the right way, and brought christopher about by a sharp desert. and after, when they were past the cross, he brought him to the highway that they had left. and when christopher saw that, he marvelled, and demanded whereof he doubted, and had left the high and fair way, and had gone so far about by so aspre a desert. and the devil would not tell him in no wise. then christopher said to him: if thou wilt not tell me, i shall anon depart from thee, and shall serve thee no more. wherefor the devil was constrained to tell him, and said: there was a man called christ which was hanged on the cross, and when i see his sign i am sore afraid, and flee from it wheresoever i see it. to whom christopher said: then he is greater, and more mightier than thou, when thou art afraid of his sign, and i see well that i have labored in vain, when i have not founden the greatest lord of the world. and i will serve thee no longer, go thy way then, for i will go seek christ. and when he had long sought and demanded where he should find christ, at last he came into a great desert, to an hermit that dwelt there, and this hermit preached to him of jesu christ and informed him in the faith diligently, and said to him: this king whom thou desirest to serve, requireth the service that thou must oft fast. and christopher said to him: require of me some other thing, and i shall do it, for that which thou requirest i may not do. and the hermit said: thou must then wake and make many prayers. and christopher said to him: i wot not what it is; i may do no such thing. and then the hermit said to him: knowest thou such a river, in which many be perished and lost? to whom christopher said: i know it well. then said the hermit: because thou art noble and high of stature and strong in thy members, thou shalt be resident by that river, and thou shalt bear over all them that shall pass there, which shall be a thing right convenable to our lord jesu christ whom thou desirest to serve, and i hope he shall show himself to thee. then said christopher: certes, this service may i well do, and i promise to him for to do it. then went christopher to this river, and made there his habitacle for him, and bare a great pole in his hand instead of a staff, by which he sustained him in the water, and bare over all manner of people without ceasing. and there he abode, thus doing, many days. and in a time, as he slept in his lodge, he heard the voice of a child which called him and said: christopher, come out and bear me over. then he awoke and went out, but he found no man. and when he was again in his house, he heard the same voice and he ran out and found nobody. the third time he was called and came thither, and found a child beside the rivage of the river, which prayed him goodly to bear him over the water. and then christopher lift up the child on his shoulders, and took his staff, and entered into the river for to pass. and the water of the river arose and swelled more and more: and the child was heavy as lead, and alway as he went further the water increased and grew more, and the child more and more waxed heavy, insomuch that christopher had great anguish and was afeard to be drowned. and when he was escaped with great pain, and passed the water, and set the child aground, he said to the child: child, thou hast put me in great peril; thou weighest almost as i had all the world upon me, i might bear no greater burden. and the child answered: christopher, marvel thee nothing, for thou hast not only borne all the world upon thee, but thou hast borne him that created and made all the world, upon thy shoulders. i am jesu christ the king, to whom thou servest in this work. and because that thou know that i say to be the truth, set thy staff in the earth by thy house, and thou shalt see to-morn that it shall bear flowers and fruit, and anon he vanished from his eyes. and then christopher set his staff in the earth, and when he arose on the morn, he found his staff like a palmier bearing flowers, leaves and dates. and then christopher went into the city of lycia, and understood not their language. then he prayed our lord that he might understand them, and so he did. and as he was in this prayer, the judges supposed that he had been a fool, and left him there. and then when christopher understood the language, he covered his visage and went to the place where they martyred christian men, and comforted them in our lord. and then the judges smote him in the face, and christopher said to them: if i were not christian i should avenge mine injury. and then christopher pitched his rod in the earth, and prayed to our lord that for to convert the people it might bear flowers and fruit, and anon it did so. and then he converted eight thousand men. and then the king sent two knights for to fetch him to the king, and they found him praying, and durst not tell to him so. and anon after, the king sent as many more, and they anon set them down for to pray with him. and when christopher arose, he said to them: what seek ye? and when they saw him in the visage they said to him: the king hath sent us, that we should lead thee bound unto him. and christopher said to them: if i would, ye should not lead me to him, bound ne unbound. and they said to him: if thou wilt go thy way, go quit, where thou wilt. and we shall say to the king that we have not found thee. it shall not be so, said he, but i shall go with you. and then he converted them in the faith, and commanded them that they should bind his hands behind his back, and lead him so bound to the king. and when the king saw him he was afeard and fell down off the seat, and his servants lifted him up and releved him again. and then the king inquired his name and his country; and christopher said to him: tofore or i was baptized i was named reprobus, and after, i am christopher; tofore baptism, a canaanite, now, a christian man. to whom the king said: thou hast a foolish name, that is to wit of christ crucified, which could not help himself, ne may not profit to thee. how therefore, thou cursed canaanite, why wilt thou not do sacrifice to our gods? to whom christopher said: thou art rightfully called dagnus, for thou art the death of the world, and fellow of the devil, and thy gods be made with the hands of men. and the king said to him: thou wert nourished among wild beasts, and therefore thou mayst not say but wild language, and words unknown to men. and if thou wilt now do sacrifice to the gods i shall give to thee great gifts and great honors, and if not, i shall destroy thee and consume thee by great pains and torments. but, for all this, he would in no wise do sacrifice, wherefore he was sent in to prison, and the king did do behead the other knights that he had sent for him, whom he had converted. after this christopher was brought tofore the king, and the king commanded that he should be beaten with rods of iron, and that there should be set upon his head a cross of iron red hot and burning, and then after, he did do make a siege or a stool of iron, and made christopher to be bounden thereon, and after, to set fire under it, and cast therein pitch. but the siege or settle melted like wax, and christopher issued out without any harm or hurt. and when the king saw that, he commanded that he should be bound to a strong stake, and that he should be through-shotten with arrows with forty knights archers. but none of the knights might attain him, for the arrows hung in the air about, nigh him, without touching. then the king weened that he had been through-shotten with the arrows of the knights, and addressed him for to go to him. and one of the arrows returned suddenly from the air and smote him in the eye, and blinded him. to whom christopher said: tyrant, i shall die to-morn, make a little clay, with my blood tempered, and anoint therewith thine eye, and thou shalt receive health. then by the commandment of the king he was led for to be beheaded, and then, there made he his orison, and his head was smitten off, and so suffered martyrdom. and the king then took a little of his blood and laid it on his eye, and said: in the name of god and of st. christopher! and was anon healed. then the king believed in god, and gave commandment that if any person blamed god or st. christopher, he should anon be slain with the sword. ambrose saith in his preface thus, of this holy martyr: lord, thou hast given to christopher so great plenty of virtues, and such grace of doctrine, that he called from the error of paynims forty-eight thousand men, to the honor of christian faith, by his shining miracles. and with this, he being strained and bounden in a seat of iron, and great fire put under, doubted nothing the heat. and all a whole day during, stood bounden to a stake, yet might not be through-pierced with arrows of all the knights. and with that, one of the arrows smote out the eye of the tyrant, to whom the blood of the holy martyr re-established his sight, and enlumined him in taking away the blindness of his body, and gat of the christian mind and pardon, and he also gat of thee by prayer power to put away sickness and sores from them that remember his passion and figure. then let us pray to st. christopher that he pray for us, etc. the seven sleepers the seven sleepers were born in the city of ephesus. and when decius the emperor came into ephesus for the persecution of christian men, he commanded to edify the temples in the middle of the city, so that all should come with him to do sacrifice to the idols, and did do seek all the christian people, and bind them for to make them to do sacrifice, or else to put them to death; in such wise that every man was afeard of the pains that he promised, that the friend forsook his friend, and the son renied his father, and the father the son. and then in this city were founden seven christian men, that is to wit, maximian, malchus, marcianus, denis, john, serapion, and constantine. and when they saw this, they had much sorrow, and because they were the first in the palace that despised the sacrifices, they hid them in their houses, and were in fastings and in prayers. and then they were accused tofore decius, and came thither, and were found very christian men. then was given to them space for to repent them, unto the coming again of decius. and in the meanwhile they dispended their patrimony in alms to the poor people; and assembled them together, and took counsel, and went to the mount of celion, and there ordained to be more secretly, and there hid them long time. and one of them administered and served them always. and when he went into the city, he clothed him in the habit of a beggar. when decius was come again, he commanded that they should be fetched, and then malchus, which was their servant and ministered to them meat and drink, returned in great dread to his fellows, and told and showed to them the great fury and woodness of them, and then were they sore afraid. and malchus set tofore them the loaves of bread that he had brought, so that they were comforted of the meat, and were more strong for to suffer torments. and when they had taken their refection and sat in weeping and wailings, suddenly, as god would, they slept, and when it came on the morn they were sought and could not be found. wherefore decius was sorrowful because he had lost such young men. and then they were accused that they were hid in the mount of celion, and had given their goods to poor men, and yet abode in their purpose. and then commanded decius that their kindred should come to him, and menaced them to the death if they said not of them all that they knew. and they accused them, and complained that they had dispended all their riches. then decius thought what he should do with them, and, as our lord would, he inclosed the mouth of the cave wherein they were with stones, to the end that they should die therein for hunger and fault of meat. then the ministers and two christian men, theodorus and rufinus, wrote their martyrdom and laid it subtlely among the stones. and when decius was dead, and all that generation, three hundred and sixty-two years after, and the thirtieth year of theodosius the emperor, when the heresy was of them that denied the resurrection of dead bodies, and began to grow; theodosius, then the most christian emperor, being sorrowful that the faith of our lord was so felonously demened, for anger and heaviness he clad him in hair and wept every day in a secret place, and led a full holy life, which god, merciful and piteous, seeing, would comfort them that were sorrowful and weeping, and give to them esperance and hope of the resurrection of dead men, and opened the precious treasure of his pity, and raised the foresaid martyrs in this manner following. he put in the will of a burgess of ephesus that he would make in that mountain, which was desert and aspre, a stable for his pasturers and herdmen. and it happed that of adventure the masons, that made the said stable, opened this cave. and then these holy saints, that were within, awoke and were raised and intersalued each other, and had supposed verily that they had slept but one night only, and remembered of the heaviness that they had the day tofore. and then malchus, which ministered to them, said what decius had ordained of them, for he said: we have been sought, like as i said to you yesterday, for to do sacrifice to the idols, that is it that the emperor desireth of us. and then maximian answered: god our lord knoweth that we shall never sacrifice, and comforted his fellows. he commanded to malchus to go and buy bread in the city, and bade him bring more that he did yesterday, and also to inquire and demand what the emperor had commanded to do. and then malchus took five shillings, and issued out of the cave, and when he saw the masons and the stones tofore the cave, he began to bless him, and was much amarvelled. but he thought little on the stones, for he thought on other things. then came he all doubtful to the gates of the city, and was all amarvelled. for he saw the sign of the cross about the gate, and then, without tarrying, he went to that other gate of the city, and found there also the sign of the cross thereon, and then he had great marvel, for upon every gate he saw set up the sign of the cross; and therewith the city was garnished. and then he blessed him and returned to the first gate, and weened he had dreamed; and after he advised and comforted himself and covered his visage and entered into the city. and when he came to the sellers of bread, and heard the men speak of god, yet then was he more abashed, and said: what is this, that no man yesterday durst name jesu christ, and now every man confesseth him to be christian? i trow this is not the city of ephesus, for it is all otherwise builded. it is some other city, i wot not what. and when he demanded and heard verily that it was ephesus, he supposed that he had erred, and thought verily to go again to his fellows, and then went to them that sold bread. and when he showed his money the sellers marvelled, and said that one to that other, that this young man had found some old treasure. and when malchus saw them talk together, he doubted not that they would lead him to the emperor, and was sore afeard, and prayed them to let him go, and keep both money and bread, but they held him, and said to him: of whence art thou? for thou hast found treasure of old emperors, show it to us, and we shall be fellows with thee and keep it secret. and malchus was so afeard that he wist not what to say to them for dread. and when they saw that he spake not they put a cord about his neck, and drew him through the city unto the middle thereof. and tidings were had all about in the city that a young man had found ancient treasure, in such wise that all they of the city assembled about him, and he confessed there that he had found no treasure. and he beheld them all, but he could know no man there of his kindred ne lineage, which he had verily supposed that they had lived, but found none, wherefore he stood as he had been from himself, in the middle of the city. and when st. martin the bishop, and antipater the consul, which were new come into this city, heard of this thing they sent for him, that they should bring him wisely to them, and his money with him. and when he was brought to the church he weened well he should have been led to the emperor decius. and then the bishop and the consul marvelled of the money, and they demanded him where he had found this treasure unknown. and he answered that he had nothing founden, but it was come to him of his kindred and patrimony, and they demanded of him of what city he was. i wot well that i am of this city, if this be the city of ephesus. and the judge said to him: let thy kindred come and witness for thee. and he named them, but none knew them. and they said that he feigned, for to escape from them in some manner. and then said the judge: how may we believe thee that this money is come to thee of thy friends, when it appeareth in the scripture that it is more than three hundred and seventy-two years sith it was made and forged, and is of the first days of decius the emperor, and it resembleth nothing to our money; and how may it come from thy lineage so long since, and thou art young, and wouldst deceive the wise and ancient men of this city of ephesus? and therefore i command that thou be demened after the law till thou hast confessed where thou hast found this money. then malchus kneeled down tofore them and said: for god's sake, lords, say ye to me that i shall demand you, and i shall tell to you all that i have in my heart. decius the emperor that was in this city, where is he? and the bishop said to him there is no such at this day in the world that is named decius, he was emperor many years since. and malchus said: sire, hereof i am greatly abashed and no man believeth me, for i wot well that we fled for fear of decius the emperor, and i saw him, that yesterday he entered into this city, if this be the city of ephesus. then the bishop thought in himself, and said to the judge that, this is a vision that our lord will have showed by this young man. then said the young man: follow ye me, and i shall show to you my fellows which be in the mount of celion, and believe ye them. this know i well, that we fled from the face of the emperor decius. and then they went with him, and a great multitude of the people of the city with them. and malchus entered first into the cave to his fellows, and the bishop next after him. and there found they among the stones the letters sealed with two seals of silver. and then the bishop called them that were come thither, and read them tofore them all, so that they that heard it were all abashed and amarvelled. and they saw the saints sitting in the cave, and their visages like unto roses flowering, and they, kneeling down, glorified god. and anon the bishop and the judge sent to theodosius the emperor, praying him that he would come anon for to see the marvels of our lord that he had late showed. and anon he arose up from the ground, and took off the sack in which he wept, and glorified our lord. and came from constantinople to ephesus, and all they came against him, and ascended in to the mountain with him together, unto the saints in to the cave. and as soon as the blessed saints of our lord saw the emperor come, their visages shone like to the sun. and the emperor entered then, and glorified our lord and embraced them, weeping upon each of them, and said: i see you now like as i should see our lord raising lazarus. and then maximian said to him: believe us, for forsooth our lord hath raised us tofore the day of the great resurrection. and to the end that thou believe firmly the resurrection of the dead people, verily we be raised as ye here see, and live. and in like wise as the child is in the womb of his mother without feeling harm or hurt, in the same wise we have been living and sleeping in lying here without feeling of anything. and when they had said all this, they inclined their heads to the earth, and rendered their spirits at the command of our lord jesu christ, and so died. then the emperor arose, and fell on them, weeping strongly, and embraced them, and kissed them debonairly. and then he commanded to make precious sepulchres of gold and silver, and to bury their bodies therein. and in the same night they appeared to the emperor, and said to him that he should suffer them to lie on the earth like as they had lain tofore till that time that our lord had raised them, unto the time that they should rise again. then commanded the emperor that the place should be adorned nobly and richly with precious stones, and all the bishops that would confess the resurrection should be assoiled. it is in doubt of that which is said that they slept three hundred and sixty-two years, for they were raised the year of our lord four hundred and seventy-eight, and decius reigned but one year and three months, and that was in the year of our lord two hundred and seventy, and so they slept but two hundred and eight years. the life of st. silvester. silvester was son of one justa and was learned and taught of a priest named cyrinus, which did marvellously great alms and made hospitalities. it happed that he received a christian man into his house named timothy, who no man would receive for the persecution of tyrants, wherefore the said timothy suffered death and passion after that year while he preached justly the faith of jesu christ. it was so that the prefect tarquinius supposed that timothy had had great plenty of riches, which he demanded of silvester, threatening him to the death but if he delivered them to him. and when he found certainly that timothy had no great riches, he commanded to st. silvester to make sacrifice to the idols, and if he did not he would make him suffer divers torments. st. silvester answered: false, evil man, thou shalt die this night, and shalt have torments that ever shall endure, and thou shalt know, whether thou wilt or not, that he whom we worship is very god. then st. silvester was put in prison, and the provost went to dinner. now it happed that as he ate, a bone of a fish turned in his throat and stuck fast, so that he could neither have it down ne up, and at midnight died like as st. silvester had said, and then st. silvester was delivered out of prison. he was so gracious that all christian men and paynims loved him, for he was fair like an angel to look on, a fair speaker, whole of body, holy in work, good in counsel, patient and charitable, and firmly established in the faith. he had in writing the names of all the widows and orphans that were poor, and to them he administered their necessity. he had a custom to fast all fridays and saturdays. and it was so that melchiades, the bishop of rome, died, and all the people chose st. silvester for to be the high bishop of rome, which sore against his will was made pope. he instituted for to be fasted wednesday, friday, and saturday, and the thursday for to be hallowed as sunday. now it happed that the emperor constantine did do slay all the christian men over all where he could find them, and for this cause st. silvester fled out of the town with his clerks, and hid him in a mountain. and for the cruelty of constantine god sent him such a sickness that he became lazar and measel, and by the counsel of his physicians he got three thousand young children for to have cut their throats, for to have their blood in a bath all hot, and thereby he might be healed of his measelry. and when he should ascend into his chariot for to go to the place where he should be bathed, the mothers of the children came crying and braying for sorrow of their children, and when he understood that they were mothers of the children, he had great pity on them and said to his knights and them that were about him: the dignity of the empire of rome is brought forth of the fountain of pity, the which hath stablished by decree that who that slayeth a child in battle shall have his head smitten off, then should it be great cruelty to us for to do to ours such thing as we defend to strange nations, for so should cruelty surmount us. it is better that we leave cruelty and that pity surmount us, and therefore me seemeth better to save the lives of these innocents, than by their death i should have again my health, of the which we be not yet certain. ne we may recover nothing for to slay them, for if so were that i should thereby have health, that should be a cruel health that should be bought with the death of so many innocents. then he commanded to render and deliver again to the mothers their children, and gave to every each of them a good gift, and thus made them return to their houses with great joy, from whence they departed with great sorrow, and he himself returned again in his chariot unto his palace. now it happed that the night after st. peter and st. paul appeared to this emperor constantine, saying to him: because thou hast had horror to shed and spill the blood of innocents, our lord jesu christ hath had pity on thee, and commandeth thee to send unto such a mountain where silvester is hid with his clerks, and say to him that thou comest for to be baptized of him and thou shalt be healed of thy malady. and when he was awaked he did do call his knights and commanded them to go to that mountain and bring the pope silvester to him courteously and fair, for to speak with him. when st. silvester saw from far the knights come to him, he supposed they sought him for to be martyred, and began to say to his clerks that they should be firm and stable in the faith for to suffer martyrdom. when the knights came to him they said to him much courteously that constantine sent for him, and prayed him that he would come and speak with him. and forthwith he came, and when they had intersaluted each other, constantine told to him his vision. and when silvester demanded of him what men they were that so appeared to him, the emperor wist not ne could not name them. st. silvester opened a book wherein the images of st. peter and st. paul were portrayed, and demanded of him if they were like unto them. then constantine anon knew them and said that he had seen them in his sleep. then st. silvester preached to him the faith of jesu christ, and baptized him; and when he was baptized, a great light descended upon him so that he said that he had seen jesu christ, and was healed forthwith of his measelry. and then he ordained seven laws unto holy church, the first was that all the city should worship jesu christ as very god, the second thing was that whosoever should say any villany of jesu christ he should be punished, the third, whosomever should do villany to christian men, he should lose half his goods. the fourth, that the bishop of rome should be chief of all holy church, like as the emperor is chief of all the world. the fifth, that who that had done or should do trespass and fled to the church, that he should be kept there free from all injury. the sixth, that no man should edify any churches without license of holy church and consent of the bishop. the seventh, that the dime and tenth part of the possessions should be given to the church. after this the emperor came to st. peter's church and confessed meekly all his sins tofore all people, and what wrong he had done to christian men, and made to dig and cast out to make the foundements for the churches, and bare on his shoulders twelve hods or baskets full of earth. when helen, the mother of constantine, dwelling in bethany, heard say that the emperor was become christian, she sent to him a letter, in which she praised much her son of this that he had renounced the false idols, but she blamed him much that he had renounced the law of the jews, and worshipped a man crucified. then constantine remanded to his mother that she should assemble the greatest masters of the jews, and he should assemble the greatest masters of the christian men, to the end that they might dispute and know which was the truest law. then helen assembled twelve masters which she brought with her, which were the wisest that they might find in that law, and st. silvester and his clerks were of that other party. then the emperor ordained two paynims, gentiles, to be their judges, of whom that one was named crato, and that other zenophilus, which were proved wise and expert, and they to give the sentence, and be judge of the disputation. then began one of the masters of the jews for to maintain and dispute his law, and st. silvester and his clerks answered to his disputation, and to them all, always concluding them by scripture. the judges which were true and just, held more of the party of st. silvester than of the jews. then said one of the masters of the jews named zambry, i marvel, said he, that ye be so wise and incline you to their words, let us leave all these words and go we to the effect of the deeds. then he did do come [caused to come] a cruel bull, and said a word in his ear, and anon the bull died. then the people were all against silvester. then said silvester, believe not thou that he hath named in the ear the name of jesu christ, but the name of some devil, know ye verily it is no great strength to slay a bull, for a man, or a lion, or a serpent may well slay him, but it is great virtue to raise him again to life, then if he may not raise him it is by the devil. and if he may raise him again to life, i shall believe that he is dead by the power of god. and when the judges heard this, they said to zambry, that had slain the bull, that he should raise him again. then he answered that if silvester might raise him in the name of jesus of galilee his master, then he would believe in him, and thereto bound them all the jews that were there. and st. silvester first made his orisons and prayers to our lord, and sith came to the bull and said to him in his ear: thou cursed creature that art entered into this bull and hast slain him, go out in the name of jesu christ, in whose name i command thee bull, arise thou up and go thou with the other beasts debonairly, and anon the bull arose and went forth softly. then the queen and the judges, which were paynims, were converted to the faith. in this time it happed that there was at rome a dragon in a pit, which every day slew with his breath more than three hundred men. then came the bishops of the idols unto the emperor and said unto him: o thou most holy emperor, sith the time that thou hast received christian faith the dragon which is in yonder foss or pit slayeth every day with his breath more than three hundred men. then sent the emperor for st. silvester and asked counsel of him of this matter. st. silvester answered that by the might of god he promised to make him cease of his hurt and blessure of this people. then st. silvester put himself to prayer, and st. peter appeared to him and said: go surely to the dragon and the two priests that be with thee take in thy company, and when thou shalt come to him thou shalt say to him in this manner: our lord jesu christ which was born of the virgin mary, crucified, buried and arose, and now sitteth on the right side of the father, this is he that shall come to deem and judge the living and the dead, i command thee sathanas that thou abide him in this place till he come. then thou shalt bind his mouth with a thread, and seal it with thy seal, wherein is the imprint of the cross. then thou and the two priests shall come to me whole and safe, and such bread as i shall make ready for you ye shall eat. thus as st. peter had said, st. silvester did. and when he came to the pit, he descended down one hundred and fifty steps, bearing with him two lanterns, and found the dragon, and said the words that st. peter had said to him, and bound his mouth with the thread, and sealed it, and after returned, and as he came upward again he met with two enchanters which followed him for to see if he descended, which were almost dead of the stench of the dragon, whom he brought with him whole and sound, which anon were baptized, with a great multitude of people with them. thus was the city of rome delivered from double death, that was from the culture and worshipping of false idols, and from the venom of the dragon. at the last when st. silvester approached toward his death, he called to him the clergy and admonished them to have charity, and that they should diligently govern their churches, and keep their flock from the wolves. and after the year of the incarnation of our lord three hundred and twenty, he departed out of this world and slept in our lord, etc. of st. austin that brought christendom to england st. austin was a holy monk and sent in to england, to preach the faith of our lord jesu christ, by st. gregory, then being pope of rome. the which had a great zeal and love unto england, as is rehearsed all along in his legend, how that he saw children of england in the market of rome for to be sold, which were fair of visage, for which cause he demanded license and obtained to go into england for to convert the people thereof to christian faith. and he being on the way the pope died and he was chosen pope, and was countermanded and came again to rome. and after, when he was sacred into the papacy, he remembered the realm of england, and sent st. austin, as head and chief, and other holy monks and priests with him, to the number of forty persons, unto the realm of england. and as they came toward england they came in the province of anjou, purposing to have rested all night at a place called pounte, say a mile from the city and river of ligerim, but the women scorned and were so noyous to them that they drove them out of the town, and they came unto a fair broad elm, and purposed to have rested there that night, but one of the women which was more cruel than the other purposed to drive them thence, and came so nigh them that they might not rest there that night. and then st. austin took his staff for to remove from that place, and suddenly his staff sprang out of his hand with a great violence, the space of three furlongs thence, and there sticked fast in the earth. and when st. austin came to his staff and pulled it out of the earth, incontinent by the might of our lord, sourded and sprang there a fair well or fountain of clear water which refreshed him well and all his fellowship. and about that well they rested all that night, and they that dwelled thereby saw all that night over that place a great light coming from heaven which covered all that place where these holy men lay. and on the morn st. austin wrote in the earth with his staff beside the well these words following: here had austin, the servant of the servants of god, hospitality, whom st. gregory the pope hath sent to convert england. on the morn when the holy men were departed, the dwellers of the coasts thereby which saw the light in the night tofore, came thither and found there a fair well, of the which they marvelled greatly. and when they saw the scripture written in the earth they were greatly abashed because of their unkindness, and repented them full sore of that they had mocked them the day before. and after, they edified there a fair church in the same place in the worship of st. austin, the which the bishop of anjou hallowed. and to the hallowing thereof came so great multitude of people that they trod the corn in the fields down all plain, like unto a floor clean swept, for there was no sparing of it. notwithstanding, at the time of reaping, that ground so trodden bare more corn and better than any other fields beside, not trodden, did. and the high altar of that church standeth over the place where st. austin wrote with his staff by the well, and yet unto this day may no woman come in to that church. but there was a noble woman that said that she was not guilty in offending st. austin, and took a taper in her hand and went for to offer it in the said church; but the sentence of almighty god may not be revoked, for as soon as she entered the church her bowels and sinews began to shrink and she fell down dead in ensample of all other women; whereby we may understand that injury done against a saint displeaseth greatly almighty god. and from thence st. austin and his fellowship came into england and arrived in the isle of thanet in east kent, and king ethelbert reigned that time in kent, which was a noble man and a mighty. to whom st. austin sent, showing the intent of his coming from the court of rome, and said that he had brought to him right joyful and pleasant tidings, and said that if he would obey and do after his preaching that he should have everlasting joy in the bliss of heaven, and should reign with almighty god in his kingdom. and then king ethelbert hearing this, commanded that they should abide and tarry in the same isle, and that all things should be ministered to them that were necessary, unto the time that he were otherwise advised. and soon after, the king came to them in the same isle, and he being in the field, st. austin with his fellowship came and spake with him, having tofore them the sign of the cross, singing by the way the litany, beseeching god devoutly to strengthen them and help. and the king received him and his fellowship, and in the same place st. austin preached a glorious sermon, and declared to the king the christian faith openly and the great merit and avail that should come thereof in time coming. and when he had ended his sermon the king said to him: your promises be full fair that ye bring, but because they be new and have not been heard here before, we may not yet give consent thereto; nevertheless, because ye be come as pilgrims from far countries, we will not be grevious ne hard to you, but we will receive you meekly and minister to you such things as be necessary, neither we will forbid you, but as many as ye can convert to your faith and religion by your preaching ye shall have license to baptize them, and to accompany them to your law. and then the king gave to them a mansion in the city of dorobernence, which now is called canterbury. and when they drew nigh the city they came in with a cross of silver, and with procession singing the litany, praying almighty god of succor and help that he would take away his wrath from the city and to inflame the hearts of the people to receive his doctrine. and then st. austin and his fellowship began to preach there the word of god, and about there in the province, and such people as were well disposed anon were converted, and followed this holy man. and by the holy conversation and miracles that they did much people were converted and great fame arose in the country. and when it came to the king's ear, anon he came to the presence of st. austin and desired him to preach again, and then the word of god so inflamed him, that incontinent, as soon as the sermon was ended, the king fell down to the feet of st. austin and said sorrowfully: alas! woe is me, that i have erred so long and know not of him that thou speakest of, thy promises be so delectable that i think it all too long till i be christened, wherefore, holy father, i require thee to minister to me the sacrament of baptism. and then st. austin, seeing the great meekness and obedience of the king that he had to be christened, he took him up with weeping tears and baptized him with all his household and meiny, and informed them diligently in the christian faith with great joy and gladness. and when all this was done st. austin, desiring the health of the people of england, went forth on foot to york; and when he came nigh to the city there met him a blind man which said to him: o thou holy austin, help me that am full needy. to whom st. austin said: i have no silver, but such as i have i give thee; in the name of jesu christ arise and be all whole, and with that word he received his sight and believed in our lord and was baptized. and upon christmas day he baptized, in the river named swale, ten thousand men without women and children, and there was a great multitude of people resorting to the said river, which was so deep that no man might pass over on foot, and yet by miracle of our lord there was neither man, woman, ne child drowned, but they that were sick were made whole both in body and in soul. and in the same place they builded a church in the worship of god and st. austin. and when st. austin had preached the faith to the people and had confirmed them steadfastly therein, he returned again from york, and by the way he met a leper asking help, and when st. austin had said these words to him: in the name of jesu christ be thou cleansed from all thy leprosy, anon all his filth fell away, and a fair new skin appeared on his body so that he seemed all a new man. also as st. austin came into oxfordshire to a town that is called compton to preach the word of god, to whom the curate said: holy father, the lord of this lordship hath been ofttimes warned of me to pay his tithes to god, and yet he withholdeth them, and therefore i have cursed him, and i find him the more obstinate. to whom st. austin said: son, why payest thou not thy tithes to god and to the church? knowest thou not that the tithes be not thine but belong to god? and then the knight said to him: i know well that i till the ground, wherefore i ought as well to have the tenth sheaf as the ninth, and when st. austin could not turn the knight's entent, then he departed from him and went to mass. and ere he began he charged that all they that were accursed should go out of the church, and then rose a dead body and went out in to the churchyard with a white cloth on his head, and stood still there till the mass was done. and then st. austin went to him and demanded him what he was, and he answered and said: i was sometime lord of this town, and because i would not pay my tithes to my curate he accursed me, and so i died and went to hell. and then st. austin bade bring him to the place where his curate was buried, and then the carrion brought him thither to the grave, and because that all men should know that life and death be in the power of god, st. austin said: i command thee in the name of god to arise, for we have need of thee, and then he arose anon, and stood before all the people. to whom st. austin said: thou knowest well that our lord is merciful, and i demand thee, brother, if thou knowest this man? and he said: yea, would god that i had never known him, for he was a withholder of his tithes, and in all his life an, evil doer, thou knowest that our lord is merciful, and as long as the pains of hell endure let us also be merciful to all christians. and then st. austin delivered to the curate a rod, and there the knight kneeling on his knees was assoiled, and then he commanded him to go again to his grave, and there to abide till the day of doom; and he entered anon into his grave and forthwith fell to ashes and powder. and then st. austin said to the priest: how long hast thou lain here? and he said a hundred and fifty years; and then he asked how it stood with him, and he said: well, holy father, for i am in everlasting bliss; and then said st. austin: wilt thou that i pray to almighty god that thou abide here with us to confirm the hearts of men in very belief? and then he said: nay, holy father, for i am in a place of rest; and then said st. austin: go in peace, and pray for me and for all holy church, and he then entered again into his grave, and anon the body was turned to earth. of this sight the lord was sore afeard, and came all quaking to st. austin and to his curate, and demanded forgiveness of his trespass, and promised to make amends and ever after to pay his tithes and to follow the doctrine of st. austin. after this st. austin entered into dorsetshire, and came in to a town whereas were wicked people who refused his doctrine and preaching utterly and drove him out of the town, casting on him the tails of thornbacks, or like fishes, wherefore he besought almighty god to show his judgment on them, and god sent to them a shameful token, for the children that were born after in that place had tails, as it is said, till they had repented them. it is said commonly that this fell at strood in kent, but blessed be god at this day is no such deformity. item in another place there were certain people which would in no wise give faith to his preaching ne his doctrine, but scorned and mocked him, wherefore god took such vengeance that they burned with fire invisible, so that their skin was red as blood, and suffered so great pain that they were constrained to come and ask forgiveness of st. austin, and then he prayed god for them that they might be acceptable to him and receive baptism and that he would release their pain, and then he christened them and that burning heat was quenched and they were made perfectly whole, and felt never after more thereof. on a time, as st. austin was in his prayers, our lord appeared to him, and comforting him with a gentle and familiar speech, said: o thou my good servant and true, be thou comforted and do manly, for i thy lord god am with thee in all thine affection, and mine ears be open to thy prayers, and for whom thou demandest any petition thou shalt have thy desire, and the gate of everlasting life is open to thee, where thou shalt joy with me without end. and in that same place where our lord said these words he fixed his staff into the ground, and a well of clear water sourded and sprang up in that same place, the which well is called cerne, and it is in the country of dorset, whereas now is builded a fair abbey, and is named cerne after the well. and the church is builded in the same place whereas our lord appeared to st. austin. also in the same country was a young man that was lame, dumb, and deaf, and by the prayers of st. austin he was made whole, and then soon after he was dissolute and wanton, and noyed and grieved the people with jangling and talking in the church. and then god sent to him his old infirmity again, because of his misguiding, and at the last he fell to repentance, and asked god forgiveness and st. austin. and st. austin prayed for him and he was made whole again the second time, and after that he continued in good and virtuous living to his life's end. and after this st. austin, full of virtues, departed out of this world unto our lord god, and lieth buried at canterbury in the abbey that he founded there in the worship and rule, whereas our lord god showeth yet daily many miracles. and the third day before the nativity of our lady is hallowed the translation of st. austin. in which night a citizen of canterbury, being that time at winchester, saw heaven open over the church of st. austin, and a burning ladder shining full bright, and angels coming down to the same church. and then him thought that the church had burned of the great light and brightness that came down on the ladder, and marvelled greatly what this should mean, for he knew nothing of the translation of st. austin; and when he knew the truth, that on that time the body of the glorious saint was translated, he gave laud and thankings to almighty god, and we may verily know by that evident vision that it is an holy and devout place; and as it is said that of old time, ancient holy men that used to come thither would at the entry of it do off their hosen and shoes and durst not presume to go into that holy monastery but barefoot, because so many holy saints be there shrined and buried. and god hath showed so many miracles in that holy place for his blessed saint, st. austin, that if i should write them here it should occupy a great book. edwin and paulinus _the conversion of northumbria_ the black-hair'd gaunt paulinus by ruddy edwin stood:-"bow down, o king of deira, before the blessed rood! cast out thy heathen idols, and worship christ our lord." --but edwin look'd and ponder'd, and answer'd not a word. again the gaunt paulinus to ruddy edwin spake: "god offers life immortal for his dear son's own sake! wilt thou not hear his message, who bears the keys and sword?" --but edwin look'd and ponder'd, and answer'd not a word. rose then a sage old warrior; was five-score winters old; whose beard from chin to girdle like one long snow-wreath roll'd:-"at yule-time in our chamber we sit in warmth and light, while cold and howling round us lies the black land of night. "athwart the room a sparrow darts from the open door: within the happy hearth-light one red flash--and no more! we see it come from darkness, and into darkness go:-so is our life, king edwin! alas, that it is so! "but if this pale paulinus have somewhat more to tell; some news of whence and whither, and where the soul will dwell;-if on that outer darkness the sun of hope may shine;-he makes life worth the living! i take his god for mine!" so spake the wise old warrior; and all about him cried: "paulinus' god hath conquer'd! and he shall be our guide:-for he makes life worth living who brings this message plain, when our brief days are over, that we shall live again." _--unknown_ the life of st. george martyr st. george was a knight and born in cappadocia. on a time he came in to the province of libya, to a city which is said silene. and by this city was a stagne or a pond like a sea, wherein was a dragon which envenomed all the country. and on a time the people were assembled for to slay him, and when they saw him they fled. and when he came nigh the city he venomed the people with his breath, and therefore the people of the city gave to him every day two sheep for to feed him, because he should do no harm to the people, and when the sheep failed there was taken a man and a sheep. then was an ordinance made in the town that there should be taken the children and young people of them of the town by lot, and every each one as it fell, were he gentle or poor, should be delivered when the lot fell on him or her. so it happed that many of them of the town were then delivered, insomuch that the lot fell upon the king's daughter, whereof the king was sorry, and said unto the people: for the love of the gods take gold and silver and all that i have, and let me have my daughter. they said: how sir! ye have made and ordained the law, and our children be now dead, and ye would do the contrary. your daughter shall be given, or else we shall burn you and your house. when the king saw he might no more do, he began to weep, and said to his daughter: now shall i never see thine espousals. then returned he to the people ami demanded eight days' respite, and they granted it to him. and when the eight days were passed they came to him and said: thou seest that the city perisheth: then did the king do array his daughter like as she should be wedded, and embraced her, kissed her and gave her his benediction, and after, led her to the place where the dragon was. when she was there st. george passed by, and when he saw the lady he demanded the lady what she made there and she said: go ye your way fair young man, that ye perish not also. then said he: tell to me what have and why weep ye, and doubt ye of nothing. when she saw that he would know, she said to him how she was delivered to the dragon. then said st. george: fair daughter, doubt ye no thing hereof for i shall help thee in the name of jesu christ. she said: for god's sake, good knight, go your way, and abide not with me, for ye may not deliver me. thus as they spake together the dragon appeared and came running to them, and st. george was upon his horse, and drew out his sword and garnished him with the sign of the cross, and rode hardily against the dragon which came toward him, and smote him with his spear and hurt him sore and threw him to the ground. and after said to the maid: deliver to me your girdle, and bind it about the neck of the dragon and be not afeard. when she had done so the dragon followed her as it had been a meek beast and debonair. then she led him into the city, and the people fled by mountains and valleys, and said: alas! alas! we shall be all dead. then st. george said to them: ne doubt ye no thing, without more, believe ye in god, jesu christ, and do ye to be baptized and i shall slay the dragon. then the king was baptized and all his people, and st. george slew the dragon and smote off his head, and commanded that he should be thrown in the fields, and they took four carts with oxen that drew him out of the city. then were there well fifteen thousand men baptized, without women and children, and the king did do make a church there of our lady and of st. george, in the which yet sourdeth a fountain of living water, which healeth sick people that drink thereof. after this the king offered to st. george as much money as there might be numbered, but he refused all and commanded that it should be given to poor people for god's sake; and enjoined the king four things, that is, that he should have charge of the churches, and that he should honor the priests and hear their service diligently, and that he should have pity on the poor people, and after, kissed the king and departed. now it happed that in the time of diocletian and maximian, which were emperors, was so great persecution of christian men that within a month were martyred well twenty-two thousand, and therefore they had so great dread that some renied and forsook god and did sacrifice to the idols. when st. george saw this, he left the habit of a knight and sold all that he had, and gave it to the poor, and took the habit of a christian man, and went into the middle of the paynims and began to cry: all the gods of the paynims and gentiles be devils, my god made the heavens and is very god. then said the provost to him: of what presumption cometh this to thee, that thou sayest that our gods be devils? and say to us what thou art and what is thy name. he answered anon and said: i am named george, i am a gentleman, a knight of cappadocia, and have left all for to serve the god of heaven. then the provost enforced himself to draw him unto his faith by fair words, and when he might not bring him thereto he did do raise him on a gibbet; and so must beat him with great staves and broches of iron, that his body was all tobroken in pieces. and after he did do take brands of iron and join them to his sides, and his bowels which then appeared he did do frot with salt, and so sent him into prison, but our lord appeared to him the same night with great light and comforted him much sweetly. and by this great consolation he took to him so good heart that he doubted no torment that they might make him suffer. then, when dacian the provost saw that he might not surmount him, he called his enchanter and said to him: i see that these christian people doubt not our torments. the enchanter bound himself, upon his head to be smitten off, if he overcame not his crafts. then he did take strong venom and meddled it with wine, and made invocation of the names of his false gods, and gave it to st. george to drink. st. george took it and made the sign of the cross on it, and anon drank it without grieving him any thing. then the enchanter made it more stronger than it was tofore of venom, and gave it him to drink, and it grieved him nothing. when the enchanter saw that, he kneeled down at the feet of st. george and prayed him that he would make him christian. and when dacian knew that he was become christian he made to smite off his head. and after, on the morn, he made st. george to be set between two wheels, which were full of swords, sharp and cutting on both sides, but anon the wheels were broken and st. george escaped without hurt. and then commanded dacian that they should put him in a caldron full of molten lead, and when st. george entered therein, by the virtue of our lord it seemed that he was in a bath well at ease. then dacian seeing this began to assuage his ire, and to flatter him by fair words, and said to him: george, the patience of our gods is over great unto thee which hast blasphemed them, and done to them great despite, then fair, and right sweet son, i pray thee that thou return to our law and make sacrifice to the idols, and leave thy folly, and i shall enhance thee to great honor and worship. then began st. george to smile, and said to him: wherefore saidst thou not to me thus at the beginning? i am ready to do as thou sayest. then was dacian glad and made to cry over all the town that all the people should assemble for to see george make sacrifice which so much had striven there against. then was the city arrayed and feast kept throughout all the town, and all came to the temple for to see him. when st. george was on his knees, and they supposed that he would have worshipped the idols, he prayed our lord god of heaven that he would destroy the temple and the idol in the honor of his name, for to make the people to be converted. and anon the fire descended from heaven and burned the temple, and the idols, and their priests, and sith the earth opened and swallowed all the cinders and ashes that were left. then dacian made him to be brought tofore him, and said to him: what be the evil deeds that thou hast done, and also great untruth? then said to him st. george: ah, sir, believe it not, but come with me and see how i shall sacrifice. then said dacian to him: i see well thy fraud and thy barat, thou wilt make the earth to swallow me, like as thou hast the temple and my gods. then said st. george: o caitiff, tell me how may thy gods help thee when they may not help themselves! then was dacian so angry that he said to his wife: i shall die for anger if i may not surmount and overcome this man. then said she to him: evil and cruel tyrant! ne seest thou not the great virtue of the christian people? i said to thee well that thou shouldst not do to them any harm, for their god fighteth for them, and know thou well that i will become christian. then was dacian much abashed and said to her: wilt thou be christian? then he took her by the hair, and did do beat her cruelly. then demanded she of st. george: what may i become because i am not christened? then answered the blessed george: doubt thee nothing, fair daughter, for thou shalt be baptized in thy blood. then began she to worship our lord jesu christ, and so she died and went to heaven. on the morn dacian gave his sentence that st. george should be drawn through all the city, and after, his head should be smitten off. then made he his prayer to our lord that all they that desired any boon might get it of our lord god in his name, and a voice came from heaven which said that it which he had desired was granted; and after he had made his orison his head was smitten off, about the year of our lord two hundred and eighty-seven. when dacian went homeward from the place where he was beheaded toward his palace, fire fell down from heaven upon him and burned him and all his servants. gregory of tours telleth that there were some that bare certain relics of st. george, and came into a certain oratory in a hospital, and on the morning when they should depart they could not move the door till they had left there part of their relics. it is also found in the history of antioch, that when the christian men went oversea to conquer jerusalem, that one, a right fair young man, appeared to a priest of the host and counselled him that he should bear with him a little of the relics of st. george, for he was conductor of the battle, and so he did so much that he had some. and when it was so that they had assieged jerusalem and durst not mount ne go up on the walls for the quarrels and defence of the saracens, they saw appertly st. george which had white arms with a red cross, that went up tofore them on the walls, and they followed him, and so was jerusalem taken by his help. and between jerusalem and port jaffa, by a town called ramys, is a chapel of st. george which is now desolate and uncovered, and therein dwell christian greeks. and in the said chapel lieth the body of st. george, but not the head. and there lie his father and mother and his uncle, not in the chapel but under the wall of the chapel; and the keepers will not suffer pilgrims to come therein, but if they pay two ducats, and therefore come but few therein, but offer without the chapel at an altar. and there is seven years and seven lents of pardon; and the body of st. george lieth in the middle of the quire or choir of the said chapel, and in his tomb is an hole that a man may put in his hand. and when a saracen, being mad, is brought thither, and if he put his head in the hole he shall anon be made perfectly whole, and have his wit again. this blessed and holy martyr st. george is patron of the realm of england and the cry of men of war. in the worship of whom is founded the noble order of the garter, and also a noble college in the castle of windsor by kings of england, in which college is the heart of st. george, which sigismund, the emperor of almayne, brought and gave for a great and a precious relic to king harry the fifth. the life of st. patrick st. patrick was born in britain, which is called england, and was learned at rome and there flourished in virtues; and after departed out of the parts of italy, where he had long dwelled, and came home into his country in wales named pendyac, and entered into a fair and joyous country called the valley rosine. to whom the angel of god appeared and said: o patrick, this see ne bishopric god hath not provided to thee, but unto one not yet born, but shall thirty years hereafter be born, and so he left that country and sailed over into ireland. and as higden saith in polycronicon the fourth book, the twenty-fourth chapter, that st. patrick's father was named caprum, which was a priest and a deacon's son which was called fodum. and st. patrick's mother was named conchessa, martin's sister of france. in his baptism he was named sucate, and st. germain called him magonius, and celestinus the pope named him patrick. that is as much to say as father of the citizens. st. patrick on a day as he preached a sermon of the patience and sufferance of the passion of our lord jesu christ to the king of the country, he leaned upon his crook or cross, and it happed by adventure that he set the end of the crook, or his staff, upon the king's foot, and pierced his foot with the pike, which was sharp beneath. the king had supposed that st. patrick had done it wittingly, for to move him the sooner to patience and to the faith of god, but when st. patrick perceived it he was much abashed, and by his prayers he healed the king. and furthermore he impetred and gat grace of our lord that no venomous beast might live in all the country, and yet unto this day is no venomous beast in all ireland. after it happed on a time that a man of that country stole a sheep, which belonged to his neighbor, whereupon st. patrick admonested the people that whomsoever had taken it should deliver it again within seven days. when all the people were assembled within the church, and the man which had stolen it made no semblant to render ne deliver again this sheep, then st. patrick commanded, by the virtue of god, that the sheep should bleat and cry in the belly of him that had eaten it, and so happed it that, in the presence of all the people, the sheep cried and bleated in the belly of him that had stolen it. and the man that was culpable repented him of his trespass, and the others from then forthon kept them from stealing of sheep from any other man. also st. patrick was wont for to worship and do reverence unto all the crosses devoutly that he might see, but on a time tofore the sepulchre of a paynim stood a fair cross, which he passed and went forth by as he had not seen it, and he was demanded of his fellows why he saw not that cross. and then he prayed to god he said for to know whose it was, and he said he heard a voice under the earth saying: thou sawest it not because i am a paynim that am buried here, and am unworthy that the sign of the cross should stand there, wherefore he made the sign of the cross to be taken thence. on a time as st. patrick preached in ireland the faith of jesu christ, and did but little profit by his predication, for he could not convert the evil, rude and wild people, he prayed to our lord jesu christ that he would show them some sign openly, fearful and ghastful, by which they might be converted and be repentant of their sins. then, by the commandment of god, st. patrick made in the earth a great circle with his staff, and anon the earth after the quantity of the circle opened and there appeared a great pit and a deep, and st. patrick by the revelation of god understood that there was a place of purgatory, in to which whomsoever entered therein he should never have other penance ne feel none other pain, and there was showed to him that many should enter which should never return ne come again. and they that should return should abide but from one morn to another, and no more, and many entered that came not again. as touching this pit or hole which is named st. patrick's purgatory, some hold opinion that the second patrick, which was an abbot and no bishop, that god showed to him this place of purgatory; but certainly such a place there is in ireland wherein many men have been, and yet daily go in and come again, and some have had there marvellous visions and seen grisly and horrible pains, of whom there be books made as of tundale and others. then this holy man st. patrick, the bishop, lived till he was one hundred and twenty-two years old, and was the first that was bishop in ireland, and died in aurelius ambrose's time that was king of britain. in his time was the abbot columba, otherwise named colinkillus, and st. bride whom st. patrick professed and veiled, and she over-lived him forty years. all these three holy saints were buried in ulster, in the city of dunence, as it were in a cave with three chambers. their bodies were found at the first coming of king john, king harry the second's son, into ireland. upon whose tombs these verses following were written: hic jacent in duno qui tumulo tumulantur in uno, brigida, patricius atque columba pius, which is for to say in english: in duno these three be buried all in one sepulchre: bride, patrick, and columba the mild. men say that this holy bishop, st. patrick, did three great things. one is that he drove with his staff all the venomous beasts out of ireland. the second, that he had grant of our lord god that none irish man shall abide the coming of antichrist. the third wonder is read of his purgatory, which is more referred to the less st. patrick, the abbot. and this holy abbot, because he found the people of that land rebel, he went out of ireland and came in to england in the abbey of glastonbury, where he died on a st. bartholomew's day. he flourished about the year of our lord eight hundred and fifty. of saint francis how he received the counsel of st. clare and of brother silvester, and how he preached unto the birds the humble servant of christ, st. francis, a short while after his conversion, having already gathered together many companions and received them into the order, fell into deep thought and much doubting as to what he ought to do: whether to give himself wholly unto prayer, or some time also unto preaching: and on this matter he much desired to learn the will of god. and for that the holy humility that was in him suffered him not to trust over much in himself nor in his own prayers, he thought to search out the will of god through the prayers of others: wherefore he called brother masseo, and bespake him thus: "go unto sister clare and tell her on my behalf, that she with certain of her most spiritual companions, should pray devoutly unto god, that it may please him to show me which of the twain is the better: whether to give myself to preaching or wholly unto prayer. and then go unto brother silvester and tell the like to him." this was that brother silvester who when he was in the world had seen a cross of gold proceeding from the mouth of st. francis, the which reached even unto heaven and the arms thereof unto the ends of the world, and this brother silvester was of so great devotion and so great sanctity, that whatsoe'er he asked of god was granted him, and oftentimes he spake with god; wherefore st. francis had a great devotion unto him. so brother masseo departed, and according to the bidding of st. francis carried his message first unto st. clare and then unto brother silvester. who, when he had heard thereof, forthwith fell on his knees in prayer, and as he prayed received answer from god, and turned to brother masseo, and bespake him thus: "thus saith the lord: say unto brother francis that god has not called him to this estate for himself alone, but to the end that he may gain fruit of souls, and that many through him may be saved." with this reply brother masseo returned to st. clare to learn what she had received of god, and she answered that god had sent to her and her companions the same reply as he had given to brother silvester. whereat brother masseo hied him back again to st. francis; and st. francis received him with exceeding great love, washing his feet and making ready for him the meal, and after he had eaten, st. francis called brother masseo into the wood; and there kneeled down before him and drew back his hood, stretching out his arms in the shape of a cross, and asked him: "what has my lord jesu christ commanded that i should do?" replied brother masseo: "as unto brother silvester, so likewise unto sister clare and her sisters, has christ made answer and revealed: that it is his will that thou go throughout the world to preach, since he hath chosen thee not for thyself alone, but also for the salvation of others." and then st. francis, when he had heard this answer and known thereby the will of jesu christ, rose up with fervor exceeding great, and said: "let us be going in the name of god"; and he took for his companions brother masseo and brother agnolo, holy men. and setting forth with fervent zeal of spirit, taking no thought for road or way, they came unto a little town that was called savurniano, and st. francis set himself to preach, but first he bade the swallows that were twittering keep silence till such time as he had done the preaching; and the swallows were obedient to his word, and he preached there with such fervor that all the men and women of that town minded through their devotion to come after him and leave the town, but st. francis suffered them not, saying: "make not ill haste nor leave your homes; and i will ordain for you what ye should do for the salvation of your souls": and therewith he resolved to found the third order, for the salvation of all the world. and so leaving them much comforted and with minds firm set on penitence, he departed thence and came unto a place between cannaio and bevagno. and as with great fervor he was going on the way, he lifted up his eyes and beheld some trees hard by the road whereon sat a great company of birds well-nigh without number; whereat st. francis marvelled, and said to his companions: "ye shall wait for me here upon the way and i will go to preach unto my little sisters, the birds." and he went unto the field and began to preach unto the birds that were on the ground; and immediately those that were on the trees flew down to him, and they all of them remained still and quiet together, until st. francis made an end of preaching: and not even then did they depart, until he had given them his blessing. and according to what brother masseo afterward related unto robert jacques da massa, st. francis went among them touching them with his cloak, howbeit none moved from out his place. the sermon that st. francis preached unto them was after this fashion: "my little sisters, the birds, much bounden are ye unto god, your creator, and always in every place ought ye to praise him, for that he hath given you liberty to fly about everywhere, and hath also given you double and triple raiment; moreover, he preserved your seed in the ark of noah, that your race might not perish out of the world; still more are ye beholden to him for the element of the air which he had appointed for you; beyond all this, ye sow not, neither do you reap; and god feedeth you, and giveth you the streams and fountains for your drink; the mountains and the valleys for your refuge and the high trees whereon to make your nests; and because ye know not how to spin or sew, god clotheth you, you and your children; wherefore your creator loveth you much, seeing that he hath bestowed on you so many benefits; and therefore, my little sisters, beware of the sin of ingratitude, and study always to give praises unto god." whenas st. francis spake these words to them, those birds began all of them to open their beaks, and stretch their necks, and spread their wings, and reverently bend their heads down to the ground, and by their acts and by their songs to show that the holy father gave them joy exceeding great. and st. francis rejoiced with them, and was glad, and marvelled much at so great a company of birds and their most beautiful diversity and their good heed and sweet friendliness, for the which cause he devoutly praised their creator in them. at the last, having ended the preaching, st. francis made over them the sign of the cross, and gave them leave to go away; and thereby all the birds with wondrous singing rose up in the air; and then, in the fashion of the cross that st. francis had made over them, divided themselves into four parts; and the one part flew toward the east, and the other toward the west, and the other toward the south, and the fourth toward the north, and each flight went on its way singing wondrous songs; signifying thereby that even as st. francis, the standard-bearer of the cross of christ, had preached unto them, and made over them the sign of the cross, after the pattern of which they separated themselves unto the four parts of the world: even so the preaching of the cross of christ, renewed by st. francis, would be carried by him and the brothers throughout the world; the which brothers, after the fashion of the birds, possessing nothing of their own in this world, commit their lives wholly unto the providence of god. how st. francis converted the fierce wolf of agobio what time st. francis abode in the city of agobio, there appeared in the country of agobio an exceeding great wolf, terrible and fierce, the which not only devoured animals, but also men, insomuch that all the city folk stood in great fear, sith ofttimes he came near to the city, and all men when they went out arrayed them in arms as it were for the battle, and yet withal they might not avail to defend them against him whensoe'er any chanced on him alone; for fear of this wolf they were come to such a pass that none durst go forth of that place. for the which matter, st. francis having compassion on the people of that land, wished to go forth unto that wolf, albeit the townsfolk all gave counsel against it: and making the sign of the most holy cross he went forth from that place with his companions, putting all his trust in god. and the others misdoubting to go further, st. francis took the road to the place where the wolf lay. and lo! in the sight of many of the townsfolk that had come out to see this miracle, the said wolf made at st. francis with open mouth: and coming up to him, st. francis made over him the sign of the most holy cross, and called him to him, and bespake him thus: "come hither, brother wolf: i command thee in the name of christ that thou do no harm, nor to me nor to any one." o wondrous thing! whenas st. francis had made the sign of the cross, right so the terrible wolf shut his jaws and stayed his running: and when he was bid, came gently as a lamb and lay him down at the feet of st. francis. thereat st. francis thus bespake him: "brother wolf, much harm hast thou wrought in these parts and done grievous ill, spoiling and slaying the creatures of god, without his leave: and not alone hast thou slain and devoured the brute beasts, but hast dared to slay men, made in the image of god; for the which cause thou art deserving of the gibbet as a thief and a most base murderer; and all men cry out and murmur against thee and all this land is thine enemy. but i would fain, brother wolf, make peace between thee and these; so that thou mayest no more offend them, and they may forgive thee all thy past offences, and nor men nor dogs pursue thee any more." at these words the wolf with movements of body, tail, and eyes, and by the bending of his head, gave sign of his assent to what st. francis said, and of his will to abide therby. then spake st. francis again: "brother wolf, sith it pleaseth thee to make and hold this peace, i promise thee that i will see to it that the folk of this place give thee food alway so long as thou shalt live, so that thou suffer not hunger any more; for that i wot well that through hunger hast thou wrought all this ill. but sith i win for thee this grace, i will, brother wolf, that thou promise me to do none hurt to any more, be he man or beast; dost promise me this?" and the wolf gave clear token by the bowing of his head that he promised. then quoth st. francis: "brother wolf, i will that thou plight me troth for this promise, that i may trust thee full well." and st. francis stretching forth his hand to take pledge of his troth, the wolf lifted up his right paw before him and laid it gently on the hand of st. francis, giving thereby such sign of good faith as he was able. then quoth st. francis: "brother wolf, i bid thee in the name of jesu christ come now with me, nothing doubting, and let us go stablish this peace in god's name." and the wolf obedient set forth with him, in fashion as a gentle lamb; whereat the townsfolk made mighty marvel, beholding. and straightway the bruit of it was spread through all the city, so that all the people, men-folk and women-folk, great and small, young and old, gat them to the market place for to see the wolf with st. francis. and the people being gathered all together, st. francis rose up to preach, avizing them among other matters how for their sins god suffered such things to be, and pestilences also: and how far more parlous is the flame of hell, the which must vex the damned eternally, than is the fury of the wolf that can but slay the body; how much then should men fear the jaws of hell, when such a multitude stands sore adread of the jaws of one so small a beast? then turn ye, beloved, unto god, and work out a fit repentance for your sins; and god will set you free from the wolf in this present time, and in time to come from out the fires of hell. and done the preaching, st. francis said: "give ear, my brothers: brother wolf, who standeth here before ye, hath promised me and plighted troth to make his peace with you, and to offend no more in any thing; and do ye promise him to give him every day whate'er he needs: and i am made his surety unto you that he will keep this pact of peace right steadfastly." then promised all the folk with one accord to give him food abidingly. then quoth st. francis to the wolf before them all: "and thou, brother wolf, dost thou make promise to keep firm this pact of peace, that thou offend not man nor beast nor any creature?" and the wolf knelt him down and bowed his head: and with gentle movements of his body, tail, and eyes, gave sign as best he could that he would keep their pact entire. quoth st. francis: "brother wolf, i wish that as thou hast pledged me thy faith to this promise without the gate, even so shouldest thou pledge me thy faith to thy promise before all the people, and that thou play me not false for my promise, and the surety that i have given for thee." then the wolf lifting up his right paw, laid it in the hand of st. francis. therewith, this act, and the others set forth above, wrought such great joy and marvel in all the people, both through devotion to the saint, and through the newness of the miracle, and through the peace with the wolf, that all began to lift up their voices unto heaven praising and blessing god, that had sent st. francis unto them, who by his merits had set them free from the jaws of the cruel beast. and thereafter this same wolf lived two years in agobio; and went like a tame beast in and out the houses, from door to door, without doing hurt to any or any doing hurt to him, and was courteously nourished by the people; and as he passed thuswise through the country and the houses, never did any dog bark behind him. at length, after a two years' space, brother wolf died of old age: whereat the townsfolk sorely grieved, sith marking him pass so gently through the city, they minded them the better of the virtue and the sanctity of st. francis. how st. francis tamed the wild turtle-doves it befell on a day that a certain young man had caught many turtle-doves: and as he was carrying them for sale, st. francis, who had ever a tender pity for gentle creatures, met him, and looking on those turtle-doves with pitying eyes, said to the youth: "i pray thee give them me, that birds so gentle, unto which the scripture likeneth chaste and humble and faithful souls, may not fall into the hands of cruel men that would kill them." forthwith, inspired of god, he gave them all to st. francis; and he receiving them into his bosom, began to speak tenderly unto them: "o my sisters, simple-minded turtle-doves, innocent and chaste, why have ye let yourselves be caught? now would i fain deliver you from death and make you nests, that ye may be fruitful and multiply, according to the commandments of your creator." and st. francis went and made nests for them all: and they abiding therein, began to lay their eggs and hatch them before the eyes of the brothers: and so tame were they, they dwelt with st. francis and all the other brothers as though they had been fowls that had always fed from their hands, and never did they go away until st. francis with his blessing gave them leave to go. and to the young man who had given them to him, st. francis said: "my little son, thou wilt yet be a brother in this order and do precious service unto jesu christ." and so it came to pass; for the said youth became a brother and lived in the order in great sanctity. song of the emigrants in bermuda where the remote bermudas ride in the ocean's bosom unespied, from a small boat that row'd along the listening winds received this song: "what should we do but sing his praise that led us through the watery maze where he the huge sea-monsters wracks that lift the deep upon their backs, unto an isle so long unknown, and yet far kinder than our own? he lands us on a grassy stage, safe from the storms, and prelate's rage: he gave us this eternal spring which here enamels everything, and sends the fowls to us in care on daily visits through the air. he hangs in shades the orange bright like golden lamps in a green night, and does in the pomegranates close jewels more rich than ormus shows: he makes the figs our mouths to meet, and throws the melons at our feet; but apples plants of such a price, no tree could ever bear them twice! with cedars chosen by his hand from lebanon he stores the land; and makes the hollow seas that roar proclaim the ambergris on shore. he cast (of which we rather boast) the gospel's pearl upon our coast; and in these rocks for us did frame a temple where to sound his name. o let our voice his praise exalt till it arrive at heaven's vault, which then perhaps rebounding may echo beyond the mexique bay!" --thus sung they in the english boat a holy and a cheerful note: and all the way, to guide their chime, with falling oars they kept the time. _--a. marvell_ landing of the pilgrim fathers in new england the breaking waves dash'd high on a stern and rock-bound coast, and the woods against a stormy sky their giant branches toss'd; and the heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o'er, when a band of exiles moor'd their bark on the wild new england shore. not as the conqueror comes, they, the true-hearted, came; not with the roll of the stirring drums, and the trumpet that sings of fame; not as the flying come, in silence and in fear;-they shook the depths of the desert gloom with their hymns of lofty cheer. amidst the storm they sang, and the stars heard and the sea; and the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang to the anthem of the free! the ocean eagle soar'd from his nest by the white wave's foam; and the rocking pines of the forest roar'd- this was their welcome home! there were men with hoary hair amidst that pilgrim band;-why had _they_ come to wither there, away from their childhood's land? there was woman's fearless eye, lit by her deep love's truth; there was manhood's brow serenely high, and the fiery heart of youth. what sought they thus afar?- bright jewels of the mine? the wealth of seas, the spoils of war?- they sought a faith's pure shrine! ay, call it holy ground, the soil where first they trod. they have left unstain'd what there they found- freedom to worship god. _--felicia browne hemans_ the pilgrim's progress _in the similitude of a dream_ as i walked through the wilderness of this world, i lighted on a certain place where was a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep; and as i slept, i dreamed a dream. i dreamed, and behold, i saw a man clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. i looked, and saw him open the book and read therein; and as he read he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "what shall i do?" in this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: "o my dear wife," said he, "and you the children of my bowels, i, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, i am certainly informed that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my sweet-babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet i see not) some way of escape _can_ be found whereby we may be delivered." at this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing toward night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. but the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. so when the morning was come, they would know how he did. he told them, "worse and worse": he also set to talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. they also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriage to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading and sometimes praying; and thus for some days he spent his time. now i saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, "what shall i do to be saved?" i saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if he would run; yet he stood still, because, as i perceived, he could not tell which way to go. i looked then, and saw a man named evangelist coming to him, and he asked, "wherefore dost thou cry?" he answered, "sir, i perceive, by the book in my hand, that i am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment; and i find that i am not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second." then said evangelist, "why not willing to die, since this life is attended with so many evils?" the man answered, "because i fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave and i shall fall into tophet. and, sir, if i be not fit to go to prison, i am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the thoughts of these things make me cry." then said evangelist, "if this be thy condition, why standest thou still?" he answered, "because i know not whither to go." then he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "flee from the wrath to come." the man therefore read it and looking upon evangelist very carefully, said, "whither must i fly?" then said evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, "do you see yonder wicket-gate?" the man said, "no." then said the other, "do you see yonder shining light?" he said, "i think i do." then said evangelist, "keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do." so i saw in my dream that the man began to run. now he had not run far from his own door when his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, "life! life! eternal life!" so he looked not behind him; but fled toward the middle of the plain. the neighbors also came out to see him run; and as he ran some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and among those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force. the name of the one was obstinate, and the name of the other pliable. now by this time the man was got a good distance from them; but however they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. then said the man, "neighbors, wherefore are ye come?" they said, "to persuade you to go back with us." but he said, "that can by no means be; you dwell," said he, "in the city of destruction, the place also where i was born: i see it to be so; and dying there, sooner or later you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone: be content, good neighbors, and go along with me." what! said obstinate, and leave our friends and comforts behind us? yes, said christian, for that was his name, because that all which you forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that i am seeking to enjoy; and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as i myself; for there, where i go, is enough and to spare. come away, and prove my words. _obst._ what are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them? _chr._ i seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away; and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, to be bestowed at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. read it so, if you will, in my book. tush, said obstinate, away with your book; will you go back with us or no? no, not i, said the other, because i have laid my hand to the plow. _obst._ come then, neighbor pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him; there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. _pli._ then said pliable, don't revile; if what the good christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours; my heart inclines to go with my neighbor. _obst._ what! more fools still? be ruled by me and go back; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? go back, go back, and be wise. _chr._ come with me, neighbor pliable; there are such things to be had which i spoke of, and many more glories beside. if you believe not me, read here in this book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of him that made it. _pli._ well, neighbor obstinate, said pliable, i begin to come to a point; i intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot with him: but, my good companion, do you know the way to this desired place? _chr._ i am directed by a man, whose name is evangelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instruction about the way. _pli._ come then, good neighbor, let us be going. then they went both together. _obst._ and i will go back to my place, said obstinate. i will be no companion of such misled, fantastical fellows. now i saw in my dream, that when obstinate was gone back, christian and pliable went talking over the plain, and thus they began their discourse. _chr._ come, neighbor pliable, how do you do? i am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. had even obstinate himself but felt what i have felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back. _pli._ come, neighbor christian, since there are none but us two here, tell me now further, what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going. _chr._ i can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of them with my tongue: but yet since you are desirous to know, i will read them in my book. _pli._ and do you think that the words of your book are certainly true? _chr._ yes, verily; for it was made by him that cannot lie. _pit._ well said; what things are they? _chr._ there is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever. _pli._ well said; and what else? _chr._ there are crowns of glory to be given us; and garments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven. _pli._ this is excellent: and what else? _chr._ there shall be no more crying nor sorrow, for he that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes. _pli._ and what company shall we have there? _chr._ there we shall be with seraphims and cherubims; creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. there also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that holy place; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy; every one walking in the sight of god, and standing in his presence with acceptance forever. in a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns; there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps; there we shall see men that by the world were cut in pieces, burned in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the sea for the love they bare to the lord of the place; all well and clothed with immortality as with a garment. _pli._ the hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. but are these things to be enjoyed? how shall we get to be sharers thereof? _chr._ the lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book; the substance of which is, if we be truly willing to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely. _pli._ well, my good companion, glad am i to hear of these things: come on, let us mend our pace. _chr._ i cannot go so fast as i would, by reason of this burden that is on my back. now i saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough that was in the midst of the plain: and they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. the name of the slough was despond. here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with dirt; and christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire. _pli._ then said pliable, ah, neighbor christian, where are you now? _chr._ truly, said christian, i do not know. _pli._ at this pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? if we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey's end? may i get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. and with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and christian saw him no more. wherefore christian was left to tumble in the slough of despond alone: but still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was furthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back: but i beheld in my dream, that a man came to him, whose name was help, and asked him, "what he did there?" _chr._ sir, said christian, i was bid to go this way by a man called evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that i might escape the wrath to come. and as i was going thither i fell in here. _help._ but why did not you look for the steps? _chr._ fear followed me so hard, that i fled the next way, and fell in. _help._ then said he, give me thine hand; so he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and he set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. then i stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, "sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the city of destruction to yonder gate, is it, that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security?" and he said unto me, "this miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended: it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore it is called the slough of despond; for still as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place: and this is the reason of the badness of this ground. "it is not the pleasure of the king that this place should remain so bad. his laborers also have, by the direction of his majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended: yea, and to my knowledge," said he, "here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the king's dominions--and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good ground of the place--if so be it might have been mended; but it is the slough of despond still, and so will be when they have done what they can. "true, there are, by the direction of the lawgiver, certain good and substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough; but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the ground is good when they are once in at the gate." now i saw in my dream, that by this time pliable was got home to his house. so his neighbors came to visit him; and some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding himself with christian; others again did mock at his cowardliness; saying, "surely, since you began to venture, i would not have been so base to have given out for a few difficulties:" so pliable sat sneaking among them. but at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor christian behind his back. and thus much concerning pliable. so, in the process of time, christian got up to the gate. now, over the gate there was written, "knock, and it shall be opened unto you." he knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying, may i now enter here? will he within open to sorry me, though i have been an undeserving rebel? then shall i not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. at last there came a grave person to the gate, named goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he came, and what he would have. _chr._ here is a poor burdened sinner. i come from the city of destruction, but am going to mount zion, that i may be delivered from the wrath to come: i would, therefore, sir, since i am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in. _good._ i am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened the gate. so when christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. then said christian, what means that? the other told him, a little distance from this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which beelzebub is the captain; from thence both he and they that are with him shoot arrows at those who come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter it. then said christian, i rejoice and tremble. now i saw in my dream, that the highway which christian was to go was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called salvation. up this way therefore did burdened christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. he ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. so i saw in my dream, that just as christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and i saw it no more. then was christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, "he hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death." then he stood still awhile to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. he looked therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks. now as he stood looking and weeping, behold, three shining ones came to him, and saluted him with "peace be to thee." so the first said to him, "thy sins be forgiven thee;" the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment; the third also set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate; so they went their way. then christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing: thus far did i come laden with my sin; nor could aught ease the grief that i was in, till i came hither; what a place is this! must here be the beginning of my bliss? must here the burden fall from off my back? must here the strings that bound it to me crack? blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be the man that there was put to shame for me. i saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their heels. the name of the one was simple, of another sloth, and of the third presumption. christian then, seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, you are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom: awake, therefore, and come away; be willing also, and i will help you off with your irons. he also told them, if he that goeth about like a roaring lion, comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth. with that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: simple said, i see no danger; sloth said, yet a little more sleep; and presumption said, every tub must stand upon its own bottom. and so they lay down to sleep again, and christian went on his way. yet was he troubled to think, that men in that danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counselling of them, and proffering to help them off with their irons. and as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. the name of the one was formalist, and the name of the other hypocrisy. so, as i said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with him into discourse. _chr._ gentlemen, whence came you, and whither do you go? _form._ and _hyp._ we were born in the land of vain-glory, and are going for praise to mount zion. _chr._ why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of the way? know ye not that it is written, that "he that cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber?" they said, that to go to the gate for entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far about; and that therefore their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done. _chr._ but will it not be counted a trespass against the lord of the city, whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will? they told him, that as for that, he needed not to trouble his head thereabout: for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it, for more than a thousand years. but, said christian, will your practice stand a trial at law? they told him, that custom, it being of so long standing as above a thousand years, would, doubtless, now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial judge. and besides, said they, if we get into the way, what matter is it which way we get in? if we are in, we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate: and we also are in the way, that came tumbling over the wall: wherein now is thy condition better than ours? _chr._ i walk by the rule of my master: you walk by the rude working of your fancies. you are counted thieves already by the lord of the way: therefore i doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way. you come in by yourselves, without his direction, and shall go out by yourselves, without his mercy. to this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to himself. then i saw that they went on every man in his way, without much conference one with another; save that these two men told christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but that they should as conscientiously do them as he. therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors, to hide the shame of thy nakedness. _chr._ by laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the door. and as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by the lord of the place whither i go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. and i take it as a token of his kindness to me; for i had nothing but rags before. and, besides, thus i comfort myself as i go. surely, think i, when i come to the gate of the city, the lord thereof will know me for good, since i have his coat on my back; a coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stripped me of my rags. i have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which one of my lord's most intimate associates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. i will tell you, moreover, that i had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as i go in the way; i was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all which things i doubt you want, and want them because you came not in at the gate. to these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each other, and laughed. then i saw that they went on all, save that christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably; also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the shining ones gave him, by which he was refreshed. i beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the foot of the hill difficulty, at the bottom of which there was a string. there were also in the same place two other ways besides that which came straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hill is called difficulty. christian now went to the spring; and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go up the hill, saying: the hill, though high, i covet to ascend; the difficulty will not me offend; for i perceive the way to life lies here. come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear. better, though _difficult_, the right way to go, than wrong, though _easy_, where the end is woe. the other two also came to the foot of the hill. but when they saw the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up which christian went on the other side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. now the name of one of those ways was danger, and the name of the other destruction. so the one took the way which is called danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other took directly up the way to destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more. i looked then after christian, to see him go up the hill, where i perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. now about midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbor, made by the lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers. thither, therefore, christian got, where also he sat down to rest him; then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given him as he stood by the cross. thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. now as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, "go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise." and with that christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill. now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men running to meet him amain; the name of the one was timorous, and of the other mistrust: to whom christian said, sirs, what's the matter? you run the wrong way. timorous answered, that they were going to the city of zion, and had got up that difficult place: but, said he, the further we go the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back again. yes, said mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not, and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us to pieces. _chr._ then said christian, you make me afraid; but whither shall i fly to be safe? if i go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and i shall certainly perish there; if i can get to the celestial city, i am sure to be in safety there: i must venture. to go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death and life everlasting beyond it. i will yet go forward. so mistrust and timorous run down the hill, and christian went on his way. but thinking again of what he heard from the man, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein and be comforted; but he felt and found it not. then was christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the celestial city. here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. at last he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill; and falling down upon his knees, he asked god forgiveness for that his foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. but all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of christian's heart? sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness. thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. he went thus till he came within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing again even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto his mind. thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, oh, wretched man that i am, that i should sleep in the daytime! that i should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that i should so indulge the flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims! how many steps have i taken in vain! thus it happened to israel: for their sin they were sent back again by the way of the red sea; and i am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which i might have trod with delight had it not been for this sinful sleep. how far might i have been on my way by this time! i am made to tread those steps thrice over, which i needed not to have trod but once: yea, also now i am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. oh, that i had not slept! now by this time he was come to arbor again, where for awhile he sat down and wept; but at last as christian would have it, looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which he with trembling and haste catched up, and put it into his bosom. but who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his roll again? for this roll was the assurance of his life, and acceptance at the desired haven. therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to god for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journy. but oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill! yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he again began to condole with himself: o thou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am i like to be benighted in my journey! i must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of my feet, and i must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep! now also he remembered the story that mistrust and timorous told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. then said christian to himself again, these beasts range in the night for their prey, and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should i shift them? how should i escape being by them torn in pieces? thus he went on his way. but while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was beautiful, and it stood just by the highway side. so i saw in my dream, that he made haste, and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. now before he had gone far he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. now, thought he, i see the dangers that mistrust and timorous were driven back by. (the lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them; for he thought nothing but death was before him. but the porter at the lodge, whose name is watchful, perceiving that christian made a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, is thy strength so small? fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that have none; keep in the midst of the path and no hurt shall come unto thee. then i saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions; but taking good heed to the directions of the porter, he heard them roar but they did him no harm. then he clapped his hands and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the porter was. then said christian to the porter, sir, what house is this? and may i lodge here to-night? the porter answered, this house was built by the lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. the porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going. _chr._ i am come from the city of destruction, and am going to mount zion; but because the sun is now set, i desire, if i may, to lodge here to-night. _port._ what is your name? _chr._ my name is now christian, but my name at the first was graceless; i came of the race of japheth, whom god will persuade to dwell in the tents of shem. _port._ but how doth it happen that you come so late? the sun is set. _chr._ i had been here sooner, but that, wretched man as i am, i slept in the arbor that stands on the hillside. nay, i had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep i lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill; and then feeling for it, and finding it not, i was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the place where i slept my sleep, where i found it; and now i am come. _port._ well, i will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. so watchful, the porter, rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named discretion, and asked why she was called. the porter answered, this man is on a journey from the city of destruction to mount zion, but being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-night; so i told him i would call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house. then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told her. she asked him also how he got into the way; and he told her. then she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way, and he told her. and at last she asked his name. so he said, it is christian; and i have so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what i perceive, this place was built by the lord of the hill for the relief and security of pilgrims. so she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes; and after a little pause she said, i will call forth two or three more of the family. so she ran to the door, and called out prudence, piety, and charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him into the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, come in, thou blessed of the lord; this house was built by the lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. so when he was come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular discourse with christian, for the best improvement of time; and they appointed piety, prudence, and charity, to discourse with him. now i saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready. so when they had made ready they sat down to meat. now the table was furnished with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and all their talk at the table was about the lord of the hill; as namely, what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had builded that house; and by what they said, i perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of death, but not without great danger to himself, which made me love him the more. for, as they said, and as i believe, said christian, he did it with the loss of much blood. but that which put the glory of grace into all he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to this country. and besides, there was some of them of the household that said they had been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and they have attested, that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. they, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory that he might do this for the poor; and that they had heard him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the mountain of zion alone. they said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their original had been the dunghill. thus they discoursed together till late at night: and after they had committed themselves to their lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. the pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened toward the sunrising. the name of the chamber was peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang: where am i now? is this the love and care of jesus, for the men that pilgrims are, thus to provide that i should be forgiven, and dwell already the next door to heaven? so in the morning they all got up; and after some more discourse, they told him that he should not depart till they had showed him the rarities of that place. and first they had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in which, as i remember my dream, they showed him the pedigree of the lord of the hill, that he was the son of the ancient of days, and came by that eternal generation. here also was more fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken into his service; and how he had placed them in such habitations, that could neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved. then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done; as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens. then they read again another part of the records of the house, where it was shown how willing their lord was to receive into his favor any, even any, though they in time past had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. here also were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which christian had a view; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. the next day they took him, and had him into the armory, where they showed him all manner of furniture which their lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. and there was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their lord as there be stars in heaven for multitude. they also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. they showed him moses' rod; the hammer and nail with which jael slew sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps, too, with which gideon put to flight the armies of midian. then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith shamgar slew six hundred men. they showed him also the jaw-bone with which samson did such mighty feats. they showed him, moreover, the sling and stone with which david slew goliath of gath, and the sword also with which their lord will kill the man of sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. they showed him besides many excellent things, with which christian was much delighted. this done, they went to their rest again. then i saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the delectable mountains; which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was; so he consented and stayed. when the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. so he did, and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant, mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruit of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. then he asked the name of the country. they said it was immanuel's land; and it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. and when thou comest there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see to the gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there will make appear. now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. but first, said they, let us go again into the armory. so they did, and when he came there they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. he being therefore thus accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate; and there he asked the porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. then the porter answered, yes. _chr._ pray, did you know him? said he. _port._ i asked his name, and he told me it was faithful. _chr._ oh, said christian, i know him; he is my townsman, my dear neighbor; he comes from the place where i was born. how far do you think he may be before? _port._ he is got by this time below the hill. _chr._ well, said christian, good porter, the lord be with thee, and add to thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou hast shown to me. then he began to go forward; but discretion, piety, chanty, and prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. so they went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. then said christian, as it was difficult coming up, so, so far as i can see, it is dangerous going down. yes, said prudence, so it is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the valley of humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill. so he began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two. then i saw in my dream, that these good companions, when christian was got down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went his way. but now, in this valley of humiliation, poor christian was hard put to it; for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him: his name is apollyon. then did christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back, or to stand his ground. but he considered again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts; therefore he resolved to venture, and stand his ground; for, thought he, had i no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand. so he went on, and apollyon met him. now the monster was hideous to behold; he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride; he had wings like a dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke; and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion. when he came up to christian he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him. _apollyon._ whence come you, and whither are you bound? _chr._ i am come from the city of destruction, which is the place of all evil, and i am going to the city of zion. _apol._ by this i perceive that thou art one of my subjects; for all that country is mine, and i am the prince and god of it. how is it, then, that thou hast run away from thy king? were it not that i hope thou mayst do me more service, i would strike thee now at one blow to the ground. _chr._ i was, indeed, born in your dominions, but your service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on: for the wages of sin is death; therefore when i was come to years, i did, as other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps i might mend myself. _apol._ there is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will i as yet lose thee; but since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back, and what our country will afford i do here promise to give thee. _chr._ but i have let myself to another, even to the king of princes; and how can i with fairness go back with thee? _apol._ thou hast done in this according to the proverb, "changed a bad for worse"; but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves his servants, after awhile to give him the slip, and return again to me. do thou so too, and all shall be well. _chr._ i have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to him; how then can i go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor? _apol._ thou didst the same to me, and yet i am willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back. _chr._ what i promised thee was in my nonage; and besides, i count that the prince, under whose banner now i stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also what i did as to my compliance with thee. and besides, o thou destroying apollyon, to speak truth, i like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, his company, and country, better than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me further; i am his servant, and i will follow him. _apol._ consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. thou knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. how many of them have been put to shameful deaths! and besides, thou countest est his service better than mine; whereas he never came yet from the place where he is, to deliver any that serve him out of my hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the world very well knows, have i delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his, though taken by them. and so i will deliver thee. _chr._ his forbearing at present to deliver them, is on purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end; and as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their account. for, for the present deliverance, they do not much expect it; for they stay for their glory; and then they shall have it, when their prince comes in his, and the glory of the angels. _apol._ thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him; and how dost thou think to receive wages of him. _chr._ wherein, o apollyon, have i been unfaithful to him? _apol._ thou didst faint at the first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the gulf of despond. thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy prince had taken it off. thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things. thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions. and when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest. _chr._ all this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the prince whom i serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. but besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy country; for there i sucked them in, and i have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my prince. _apol._ then apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, i am an enemy to this prince; i hate his person, his laws, and people; i am come out on purpose to withstand thee. _chr._ apollyon, beware what you do, for i am in the king's highway, the way of holiness; therefore take heed to yourself. then apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, i am void of fear in this matter. prepare thyself to die; for i swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no further; here will i spill thy soul. and with that he threw a naming dart at his breast: but christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. then did christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that christian could do to avoid it, apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. this made christian give a little back: apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. this sore combat lasted for about half a day, even till christian was almost quite spent. for you must know, that christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. then, apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to christian, wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with that christian's sword flew out of his hand. then said apollyon, i am sure of thee now. and with that he had almost pressed him to death; so that christian began to despair of life. but, as god would have it, while apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, rejoice not against me, o mine enemy; when i fall i shall arise; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound. christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. and with that apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that christian saw him no more. in this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as i did, what yelling and hideous roaring apollyon made all the time of the fight; he spake like a dragon: and on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from christian's heart. i never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward; but it was the dreadfulest fight that i ever saw. so when the battle was over, christian said, i will here give thanks to him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to him that did help me against apollyon. and so he did, saying: great beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, design'd my ruin; therefore to this end he sent him harness'd out, and he with rage, that hellish was, did fiercely me engage: but blessed michael helped me, and i, by dint of sword, did quickly make him fly. therefore to him let me give lasting praise, and thank and bless his holy name always. then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves of the tree of life, the which christian took and applied to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed immediately. he also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given to him a little before; so being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand; for, he said, i know not but some other enemy may be at hand. but he met with no other affront from apollyon quite through the valley. now at the end of this valley was another, called the valley of the shadow of death; and christian must needs go through it, because the way to the celestial city lay through the midst of it. now this valley is a very solitary place; the prophet jeremiah thus describes it: "a wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought, and of the shadow of death, a land that no man" (but a christian) "passeth through, and where no man dwelt." now here christian was worse put to it than in his fight with apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. i saw then in my dream, that when christian was got to the borders of the shadow of death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of the good land--making haste to go back--to whom christian spake as follows: _chr._ whither are you going? _men._ they said, back, back, and we would have you do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. why, what's the matter? said christian. _men._ matter? said they; we were going that way as you are going, and went as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for had we gone a little further, we had not been here to bring the news to thee. but what have you met with? said christian. _men._ why, we were almost in the valley of the shadow of death, but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it. but what have you seen? said christian. _men._ seen! why the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch: we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also in that valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons; and over that valley hangs the discouraging clouds of confusion: death also doth always spread his wings over it. in a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly without order. then, said christian, i perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven. _men._ be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours. so they parted, and christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted. i saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it, into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. again, behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his foot to stand on: into that quag king david once did fall, and had no doubt therein been smothered, had not he that is able plucked him out. the pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore good christian was the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other: also, when he sought to escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. thus he went on, and i heard him here sigh bitterly; for beside the danger mentioned above, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to go forward, he knew not where or upon what he should set it next. about the midst of this valley i perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. now, thought christian, what shall i do? and ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for christian's sword, as did apollyon before), that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called all-prayer; so he cried, in my hearing, o lord, i beseech thee, deliver my soul. thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching toward him; also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. this frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles together: and coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. sometimes he had half a thought to go back; then, again, he thought he might be half way through the valley. he remembered, also, how he had already vanquished many a danger; and that the danger of going back might be much more than for to go forward. so he resolved to go on: yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. but when they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, i will walk in the strength of the lord god. so they gave back, and came no further. one thing i would not let slip. i took notice that now poor christian was so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus i perceived it. just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. this put christian more to it than anything that he met with before, even to think that he should now blaspheme him that he loved so much before. yet if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies came. when christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i will fear no evil, for thou art with me. then was he glad, and that for these reasons: first, because he gathered from thence, that some who feared god were in this valley as well as himself. secondly, for that he perceived god was with them, though in that dark and dismal state. and why not, thought he, with me? though by reason of the impediment that attends this place, i cannot perceive it. thirdly, for that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have company by and by. so he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. and by and by the day broke: then said christian, "he hath turned the shadow of death into the morning." now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. so he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way was which led between them both. also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of day they came not nigh, yet they were discovered to him according to that which is written, "he discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death." now was christian much affected with this deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. and about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to christian; for you must note, that though the first part of the valley of the shadow of death was dangerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more dangerous; for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away; but, as i said, just now the sun was rising. then said he, "his candle shineth on my head, and by his light i go through darkness." in this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. now i saw in my dream, that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly; and while i was musing what should be the reason, i espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, pope and pagan, dwelt in old time; by whose power and tyranny the men, whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death. but by this place christian went without much danger, whereat i somewhat wondered; but i have learned since, that pagan has been dead many a day; and as for the other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at them. so i saw that christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because he spoke to him, though he could not go after him, saying, you will never mend till more of you be burned. but he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by, and catched no hurt. then sang christian: oh, world of wonders (i can say no less), that i should be preserved in that distress that i have met with here! oh, blessed be that hand that from it hath deliver'd me! dangers in darkness, heaven, hell, and sin, did compass me, while i this vale was in; yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie my path about, that worthless, silly i might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down, but since i live, let jesus wear the crown. now as christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them; up there, therefore, christian went; and looking forward, he saw faithful before him upon his journey. then said christian aloud, ho, ho; so-ho; stay, and i will be your companion. at that faithful looked behind him; to whom christian cried again, stay, stay, till i come up to you. but faithful answered, no, i am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me. at this christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with faithful, and did also overrun him; so the last was first. then did christian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until faithful came up to help him. then i saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage. then i saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called vanity fair. it is kept all the year long. it beareth the name of vanity fair because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and also, because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity; as is the saying of the wise, "all that cometh is vanity." this fair is no new erected business, but a thing of ancient standing. i will show you the original of it. almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims walking to the celestial city, as these two honest persons are; and beelzebub, apollyon, and legion, with their companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made, that their way to the city lay through this town of vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. therefore at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures; and delights of all sorts, such as harlots, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not. and moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind. here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false-swearers, and that of a blood-red color. and as, in other fairs of less moment, there are the several rows and streets under their proper names, where such and such wares are vended: so here likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets, namely, countries and kingdoms, where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found. here is the britain row, the french row, the italian row, the spanish row, the german row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold. but as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of rome and her merchandise is greatly promoted in this fair; only our english nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat. now, as i said, the way to the celestial city lies just through this town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that would go to the city, and yet not go through this town, "must needs go out of the world." the prince of princes himself, when here, went through this town to his own country, and that upon a fair-day, too; yea, and as i think, it was beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities, yea, would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have done him reverence as he went through the town. yea, because he was such a person of honor beelzebub had him from street to street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure that blessed one to cheapen and buy some of his vanities; but he had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities. this fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long standing, and a very great fair. now these pilgrims, as i said, must needs go through this fair. well, so they did; but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them, and that for several reasons: for, first, the pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. the people, therefore, of the fair made a great gazing upon them; some said they were fools; some they were bedlams; and some they were outlandish men. secondly, and as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their speech; for few could understand what they said. they naturally spoke the language of canaan; but they that kept the fair were the men of this world. so that from one end of the fair to the other they seemed barbarians each to the other. thirdly, but that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light by all their wares. they cared not so much as to look upon them; and if they called upon them to buy, they would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, "turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity," and look upward, signifying that their trade and traffic was in heaven. one chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto them, "what will ye buy?" but they looking gravely upon him, said, "we buy the truth." at that, there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more; some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite them. at last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. now was word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take those men into examination about whom the fair was almost overturned. so the men were brought to examination; and they that sat upon them asked whence they came, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual garb. the men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going to their own country, which was the heavenly jerusalem; and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to let them in their journey, except it was for that when one asked them what they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. but they that were appointed to examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. therefore they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. there, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge; the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. but the men being patient, and "not rendering railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing," and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more observing and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. they, therefore, in angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. the others replied, that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that there were many that traded in their fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. thus, after divers words had passed on both sides--the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them--they fell to some blows among themselves, and did harm one to another. then were these two poor men brought before their examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. so they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. but christian and faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them with so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side--though but few in comparison of the rest--several of the men in the fair. this put the other party yet into a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of these two men. wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they should die for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair. then were they remanded to the cage again until further order should be taken with them. so they put them in, and made them fast in the stocks. here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what he told them would happen to them. they also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he should have the best of it; therefore each man secretly wished that he might have that preferment. but committing themselves to the all-wise disposal of him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition in which they were until they should be otherwise disposed of. then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. when the time was come, they were brought before their enemies, and arraigned. the judge's name was lord hate-good; their indictment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form; the contents whereof was this: that they were enemies to, and disturbers of, the trade; that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince. then faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that which had set itself against him that is higher than the highest. and, said he, as for disturbance, i make none, being myself a man of peace: the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding our truth and innocence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better. and as to the king you talk of, since he is beelzebub, the enemy of our lord, i defy him and all his angels. then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar, should forthwith appear, and give in their evidence. so there came in three witnesses, to wit, envy, superstition, and pickthank. they were then asked, if they knew the prisoner at the bar; and what they had to say for their lord the king against him. then stood forth envy, and said to this effect: my lord, i have known this man a long time, and will attest upon oath before this honorable bench, that he is-_judge._ hold--give him his oath. so they sware him. then he said, my lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country; he neither regardeth prince nor people, law nor custom, but doeth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness. and in particular, i heard him once myself affirm, that christianity and the customs of our town of vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled. by which saying, my lord, he doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them. then did the judge say to him, hast thou any more to say? _envy._ my lord, i could say much more, only i would not be tedious to the court. yet if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will despatch him, i will enlarge my testimony against him. so he was bid to stand by. then they called superstition, and bid him look upon the prisoner at the bar. they also asked, what he could say for their lord the king against him. then they sware him; so he began: _super._ my lord, i have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do i desire to have further knowledge of him. however, this i know, that he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse i had with him, the other day, in this town; for then, talking with him, i heard him say, that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means please god. which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned: and this is that which i have to say. then was pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew in behalf of their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar. _pick._ my lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow i have known of a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken; for he hath railed on our noble prince beelzebub, and hath spoken contemptibly of his honorable friends, whose names are, the lord old man, the lord carnal delight, the lord luxurious, the lord desire of vain glory, my old lord lechery, sir having greedy, with all the rest of our nobility; and he hath said, moreover, that if all men were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this town. besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with many other suchlike vilifying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town. when this pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee? _faith._ may i speak a few words in my own defence? _judge._ sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately upon the place; yet that all men may see our gentleness toward thee, let us hear what thou hast to say. _faith._ 1. i say, then, in answer to what mr. envy hath spoken, i never said aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or customs, or people, were flat against the word of god, are diametrically opposite to christianity. if i have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, and i am ready here before you to make my recantation. 2. as to the second, to wit, mr. superstition, and his charge against me, i said only this, that in the worship of god there is required a divine faith; but there can be no divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of god. therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of god, that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be done but by a human faith, which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. 3. as to what mr. pickthank has said, i say--avoiding terms, as that i am said to rail, and the like--that the prince of this town, with all the rabblement, his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for a being in hell than in this town and country. and so the lord have mercy upon me. then the judge called to the jury--who all this while stood by to hear and observe--gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town; you have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him; also you have heard his reply and confession: it lieth now in your breast to hang him, or save his life; but yet i think meet to instruct you in our law. there was an act made in the days of pharaoh the great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply, and grow too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river. there was also an act made in the day of nebuchadnezzar the great, another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down and worship his golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace. there was also an act made in the days of darius, that whoso for some time called upon any god but him, should be cast into the lions' den. now, the substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in thought--which is not to be borne--but also in word and deed; which must, therefore, needs be intolerable. for that of pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition, to prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent; but here is a crime apparent. for the second and third, you see he disputeth against our religion; and for the treason that he hath confessed, he deserveth to die the death. then went the jury out, whose names were mr. blindman, mr. no-good, mr. malice, mr. lovelust, mr. liveloose, mr. heady, mr. high-mind, mr. enmity, mr. liar, mr. cruelty, mr. hatelight, and mr. implacable; who everyone gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and afterward unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the judge. and first among themselves, mr. blindman, the foreman, said, i see clearly that this man is a heretic. then said mr. no-good, away with such a fellow from the earth. ay, said mr. malice, for i hate the very looks of him. then said mr. lovelust, i could never endure him. nor i, said mr. liveloose, for he would always be condemning my way. hang him, hang him, said mr. heady. a sorry scrub, said mr. high-mind. my heart riseth against him, said mr. enmity. he is a rogue, said mr. liar. hanging is too good for him, said mr. cruelty. let us despatch him out of the way, said mr. hatelight. then said mr. implacable, might i have all the world given me, i could not be reconciled to him; therefore, let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death. and so they did; therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the place where he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to be put to the most cruel death that could be invented. they, therefore, brought him out, to do with him according to their law: and first they scourged him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh with knives; after that they stoned him with stones; then pricked him with their swords; and last of all, they burned him to ashes at the stake. thus came faithful to his end. now i saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses, waiting for faithful, who, so soon as his adversaries had despatched him, was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the celestial gate. but as for christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to prison; so he there remained for a space. but he who overrules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about, that christian for that time escaped them, and went his way. and as he went he sang, saying: well, faithful, thou hast faithfully profest unto thy lord, with whom thou shall be blest, when faithless ones, with all their vain delights, are crying out under their hellish plights; sing, faithful, sing, and let thy name survive, for though they killed thee, thou art yet alive. now i saw in my dream that christian went not forth alone; for there was one whose name was hopeful--being so made by the beholding of christian and faithful in their words and behavior, in their sufferings at the fair--who joined himself unto him, and entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his companion. thus one died to bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a companion with christian in his pilgrimage. this hopeful also told christian, that there were many more of the men in the fair that would take their time and follow after. i saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which david the king called "the river of god," but john, "the river of the water of life." now their way lay just upon the bank of this river; here, therefore, christian and his companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits. besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees, with all manner of fruit; and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to those who heat their blood by travel. on either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies; and it was green all the year long. in this meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might lie down safely. when they awoke, they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep. thus they did several days and nights. then they sang: behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, to comfort pilgrims by the highway-side, the meadows green, besides their fragrant smell, yield dainties for them; and he who can tell what pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, will soon sell all, that he may buy this field. so when they were disposed to go on--for they were not as yet at their journey's end--they ate and drank, and departed. now i beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but the river and the way for a time parted, at which they were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. now the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way. wherefore still as they went on, they wished for a better way. now a little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it, and that meadow is called by-path meadow. then said christian to his fellow, if this meadow lieth along by our wayside, let's go over into it. then he went to the stile to see, and behold a path lay along by the way on the other side of the fence. it is according to my wish, said christian; here is the easiest going; come, good hopeful, and let us go over. _hope._ but, how if this path should lead us out of the way? that is not likely, said the other. look, doth it not go along by the wayside? so hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. when they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy for their feet; and withal, they looking before them, espied a man walking as they did, and his name was vain confidence; so they called after him, and asked him whither that way led. he said, to the celestial gate. look, said christian, did not i tell you so? by this you may see we are right. so they followed, and he went before them. but behold the night came on, and it grew very dark; so that they that were behind lost the sight of him that went before. he therefore that went before--vain confidence by name--not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose there made, by the prince of those grounds, to catch vainglorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall. now christian and his fellow heard him fall. so they called to know the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. then said hopeful, where are we now? then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began to rain, and thunder and lighten in a most dreadful manner, and the water rose amain. then hopeful groaned in himself, saying, oh that i had kept on my way! _chr._ who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the way? _hope._ i was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave you that gentle caution. i would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than i. _chr._ good brother, be not offended; i am sorry i have brought thee out of the way, and that i have put thee into such imminent danger. pray, my brother, forgive me; i did not do it of an evil intent. _hope._ be comforted, my brother, for i forgive thee; and believe, too, that this shall be for our good. _chr._ i am glad i have with me a merciful brother; but we must not stand here; let us try to go back again. _hope._ but, good brother, let me go before. _chr_: no, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger, i may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out of the way. no, said hopeful, you shall not go first, for your mind being troubled may lead you out of the way again. then, for their encouragement, they heard the voice of one saying, "let thine heart be toward the highway, even the way that thou wentest; turn again." but by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the way of going back was very dangerous. (then i thought that it is easier going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we are out.) yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going back they had like to have drowned nine or ten times. neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that night. wherefore at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there until the day brake; but, being weary, they fell asleep. now there was, not far from the place they lay, a castle, called doubting castle, the owner whereof was giant despair, and it was in his grounds they now were sleeping: wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught christian and hopeful asleep in his grounds. then with a grim and surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. they told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. then said the giant, you have this night trespassed on me by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me. so they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. they also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. the giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, in a very dark dungeon, nasty, and stinking to the spirits of these two men. here, then, they lay from wednesday morning till saturday night, without one bit of bread, drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. now in this place christian had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress. now giant despair had a wife and her name was diffidence: so when he was gone to bed he told his wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. then he asked her also what he had best to do further with them. so she asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound, and he told her. then she counselled him, that when he arose in the morning he should beat them without mercy. so when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste. then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. this done, he withdraws and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn under their distress: so all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. the next night she, talking with her husband further about them, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves. so when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them, that since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with a knife, halter, or poison: for why, said he, should you choose to live, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness? but they desired him to let them go. with that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits--for he sometimes in sunshiny weather fell into fits--and lost for a time the use of his hands; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do. then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it were best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse. brother, said christian, what shall we do? the life that we now live is miserable. for my part, i know not whether it is best to live thus, or to die out of hand. my soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. shall we be ruled by the giant? _hope._ indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far more welcome to me than thus forever to abide; but yet let us consider, the lord of the country to which we are going hath said, "thou shalt do no murder," no, not to another man's person, much more then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and soul at once. and, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave, but hast thou forgotten the hell whither for certain the murderers go? for "no murderer hath eternal life," etc. and let us consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of giant despair; others, so far as i can understand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hands. who knows but that god, who made the world, may cause that giant despair may die; or that at some time or other he may forget to lock us in; or but he may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and he may lose the use of his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, i am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. i was a fool that i did not try to do it before. but however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure awhile; the time may come that may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers. with these words hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition. well, toward evening the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel. but when he came there he found them alive; and truly alive was all; for now, what for want of bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. but i say he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them, that seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had never been born. at this they trembled greatly, and i think that christian fell into a swoon; but coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take it or no. now christian again seemed for doing it; but hopeful made his second reply as followeth: my brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been heretofore? apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the valley of the shadow of death. what hardship, terror, and amazement, hast thou already gone through! and art thou now nothing but fears? thou seest that i am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art. also this giant hath wounded me as well as thee, and also cut off the bread and water from my mouth, and with thee i mourn without the light. but let us exercise a little more patience. remember how thou playedst the man at vanity fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody death; wherefore let us--at least to avoid the shame that it becomes not a christian to be found in--bear up with patience as well as we can. now night being come again, and the giant and his wife in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel; to which he replied, they are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make away with themselves. then said she, take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them. so when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. these, said he, were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed on my grounds as you have done; and when i thought fit i tore them in pieces, and so within ten days i will do you; go, get you down to your den again. and with that he beat them all the way thither. they lay, therefore, all day on saturday in a lamentable case, as before. now when night was come, and when mrs. diffidence and her husband, the giant, were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and withal the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. and with that his wife replied, i fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. and sayest thou so, my dear? said the giant; i will therefore search them in the morning. well, on saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day. now, a little before it was day, good christian, as one half amazed, broke out into this passionate speech: what a fool, quoth he, am i, to lie in a stinking dungeon, when i may as well walk at liberty! i have a key in my bosom, called promise, that will, i am persuaded, open any lock in doubting castle. then said hopeful, that's good news; good brother, pluck it out of thy bosom, and try. then christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and christian and hopeful both came out. then he went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. after that he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too, but that lock went desperately hard, yet the key did open it. then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed; but that gate as it opened, made such a creaking that it waked giant despair, who hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail; for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. then they went on, and came to the king's highway again, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction. now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile, to prevent those that shall come after from falling into the hands of giant despair. so they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence: "over this stile is the way to doubting castle, which is kept by giant despair, who despiseth the king of the celestial country, and seeks to destroy, his holy pilgrims." many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped the danger. this done, they sang as follows: out of the way we went, and then we found what 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground; and let them that come after have a care, lest they for trespassing, his pris'ners are, whose castle's doubting, and whose name's despair. they then went till they came to the delectable mountains, which mountains belong to the lord of that hill of which we have spoken before. so they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water; where also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. now there were on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway-side. the pilgrims, therefore, went to them, and leaning upon their staffs--as is common with weary pilgrims when they stand to talk with any by the way--they asked, whose delectable mountains are these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon them? _shep._ these mountains are immanuel's land, and they are within sight of his city; and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his life for them. _chr._ is this the way to the celestial city? _shep._ you are just in your way. _chr._ how far is it thither? _shep._ too far for any but those who shall get thither, indeed. _chr._ is the way safe, or dangerous? _shep._ safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but transgressors shall fall therein. _chr._ is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and faint in the way? _shep._ the lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers; therefore, the good of the place is before you. i saw also in my dream, that when the shepherds perceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, to which they made answer as in other places, as, whence came you? and, how got you into the way? and, by what means have you persevered therein? for but few of them that begin to come hither, do show their faces on these mountains. but when the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, welcome to the delectable mountains. the shepherds, i say, whose names were knowledge, experience, watchful, and sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to their tents, and made them partake of what was ready at present. they said, moreover, we would that you should stay here awhile, to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these delectable mountains. they then told them that they were content to stay. so they went to rest that night, because it was very late. then i saw in my dream, that in the morning the shepherds called up christian and hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains. so they went forth with them, and walked awhile, having a pleasant prospect on every side. then said the shepherds one to another, shall we show these pilgrims some wonders? so when they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of a hill, called error, which was very steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. so christian and hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall they had from the top. then said christian, what meaneth this? the shepherds answered, have you not heard of them that were made to err, by hearkening to hymeneus and philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body? they answered, yes. then said the shepherds, those that you see dashed in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they; and they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain. then i saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the name of that is caution, and bid them look afar off; which, when they did, they perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there; and they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. then said christian, what means this? the shepherds then answered, did you not see a little below these mountains a stile that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this way? they answered, yes. then said the shepherds, from that stile there goes a path that leads directly to doubting castle, which is kept by giant despair; and these men, pointing to them among the tombs, came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even until they came to that same stile. and because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by giant despair, and cast into doubting castle, where, after they had awhile been kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he has left them to wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, "he that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead." then christian and hopeful looked one upon another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds. then i saw in my dream, that the shepherds had them to another place in a bottom, where was a door on the side of a hill; and they opened the door, and bid them look in. they looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, and they smelled the scent of brimstone. then said christian, what means this? the shepherds told them, this is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their birthright, with esau; such as sell their master, with judas; such as blaspheme the gospel, with alexander; and that lie and dissemble, with ananias and sapphira his wife. then said hopeful to the shepherds, i perceive that these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not? _shep._ yes, and held it a long time too. _hope._ how far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since they, notwithstanding, were thus miserably cast away? _shep._ some further, and some not so far as these mountains. then said the pilgrims one to another, we have need to cry to the strong for strength. _shep._ ay, and you will have need to use it, when you have it too. by this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together toward the end of the mountains. then said the shepherds one to another, let us here show the pilgrims the gate of the celestial city, if they have skill to look through our perspective-glass. the pilgrims then lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of a high hill, called clear, and gave them the glass to look. then they tried to look; but the remembrance of that last thing that the shepherds had shown them made their hands shake, by means of which impediment they could not look steadily through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place. thus they went away and sang: thus by the shepherds secrets are reveal'd which from all other men are kept conceal'd: come to the shepherds, then, if you would see things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be. when they were about to depart, one of the shepherds gave them a note of the way. another of them bid them beware of the flatterer. the third bid them take heed that they sleep not upon enchanted ground. and the fourth bid them god speed. they went then till they came at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seeming withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go; and here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them; therefore, here they stood still to consider. and as they were thinking about the way, behold, a man black of flesh, but covered with a very light robe, vame to them, and asked them why they stood there. they answered, they were going to the celestial city, but knew not which of these ways to take. follow me, said the man; it is thither that i am going. so they followed him in the way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them so from the city that they desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned from it; yet they followed him. but by and by, before they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled that they knew not what to do; and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back. then they saw where they were. wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out. then said christian to his fellow, now do i see myself in an error. did not the shepherds bid us beware of the flatterer? as is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day: "a man that flattereth his neighbor spreadeth a net for his feet." _hope._ they also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. here david was wiser than we, for, saith he, "concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips i have kept me from the paths of the destroyer." thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. at last they espied a shining one coming toward them with a whip of small cords in his hand. when he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did there. they told him that they were poor pilgrims going to zion, but were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. then said he with a whip, it flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light. so he rent the net, and let the men out. then said he to them, follow me, that i may set you in your way again. so he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the flatterer. then he asked them, saying, where did you lie the last night? they said, with the shepherds upon the delectable mountains. he asked them if they had not a note of directions for the way. they answered, yes. but did you not, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note? they answered, no. he asked them, why? they said they forgot. he asked, moreover, if the shepherds did not bid them beware of the flatterer. they answered, yes; but we did not imagine, said they, this fine-spoken man had been he. then i saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down; which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should walk; and as he chastised them, he said, "as many as i love i rebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore, and repent." this done, he bids them go on their way, and take good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. so they thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing: come hither, you that walk along the way, see how the pilgrims fare that go astray: they catched are in an entangled net, 'cause they good counsel lightly did forget. 'tis true they rescued were; but yet, you see, they're scourg'd to boot: let this your caution be. now, after awhile, they perceived afar off one coming softly and alone, all along the highway to meet them. then said christian to his fellow, yonder is a man with his back toward zion, and he is coming to meet us. _hope._ i see him; let us take heed to ourselves now lest he should prove a flatterer also. so he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. his name was atheist, and he asked them whither they were going. _chr._ we are going to the mount zion. then atheist fell into a very great laughter. _chr._ what's the meaning of your laughter? _atheist._ i laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. _chr._ why man, do you think we shall not be received? _atheist._ received! there is no such place as you dream of in all this world. _chr._ but there is in the world to come. _atheist._ when i was at home in my own country, i heard as you now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty years, but find no more of it than i did the first day i set out. _chr._ we have both heard, and believe, that there is such a place to be found. _atheist._ had not i, when at home, believed, i had not come thus far to seek; but finding none--and yet i should had there been such a place to be found, for i have gone to seek it further than you--i am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things that i then cast away for hopes of that which i now see is not. then said christian to hopeful his companion, is it true which this man hath said? _hope._ take heed, he is one of the flatterers. remember what it hath cost us once already for hearkening to such kind fellows. what? no mount zion? did we not see from the delectable mountains the gate of the city? also, are we not now to walk by faith? let us go on, lest the man with the whip overtake us again. you should have taught me that lesson, which i will round you in the ears withal: "cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge." i say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to the saving of the soul. _chr._ my brother, i did not put the question to thee, for that i doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. as for this man, i know that he is blinded by the god of this world. let thee and me go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, and no lie is of the truth. _hope._ now do i rejoice in hope of the glory of god. so they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at them, went his way. i then saw in my dream that they went on until they came into a certain country, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. and here hopeful began to be very dull, and heavy to sleep; wherefore he said unto christian: i do now begin to grow so drowsy that i can scarcely hold open mine eyes; let us lie down and take one nap. by no means, said the other, lest sleeping we never awake more. _hope._ why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the laboring man; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. _chr._ do you not remember that one of the shepherds bid us to beware of the enchanted ground? he meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping: wherefore, "let us not sleep as others do, but let us watch and be sober." _hope._ i acknowledge myself in a fault; and had i been here alone, i had by sleeping run the danger of death. i see it is true that the wise man saith, "two are better than one." hitherto hath thy company been my mercy; and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labor. now then, said christian, to prevent drowsiness in this place, let us fall into good discourse. with all my heart, said the other. now i saw in my dream, that the pilgrims were got over the enchanted ground, and entering into the country of beulah; whose air was very sweet and pleasant; the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season. yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. in this country the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the valley of the shadow of death, and also out of the reach of giant despair; neither could they from this place so much as see doubting castle. here they were within sight of the city they were going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the shining ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. in this land also the contract between the bride and the bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, "as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so doth their god rejoice over them." here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimages. here they heard voices from out of the city, loud voices, saying, "say ye to the daughter of zion, behold thy salvation cometh! behold, his reward is with him!" here all the inhabitants of the country called them "the holy people, the redeemed of the lord, sought out," etc. now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they are bound; and drawing near to the city, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. it was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the streets thereof were paved with gold; so that, by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, christian with desire fell sick; hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease: wherefore here they lay by it awhile, crying out because of their pangs, "if you see my beloved, tell him that i am sick of love." but, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. now, as they came up to these places behold the gardener stood in the way; to whom the pilgrims said, whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these? he answered, they are the king's, and are planted here for his own delights, and also for the solace of pilgrims. so the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties. he also showed them there the king's walks and the arbors where he delighteth to be: and here they tarried and slept. now, i beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey, and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, wherefore musest thou at the matter: it is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards "to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak." so i saw that when they awoke they addressed themselves to go up to the city. but, as i said, the reflection of the sun upon the city--for the city was pure gold--was so extremely glorious that they could not as yet with open face behold it, but through an instrument made for that purpose. so i saw, that as they went on, there met them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces shone as the light. these men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. they also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures, they had met in the way; and they told them. then said the men that met them, you have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city. christian then and his companion asked the men to go along with them: so they told them that they would: but, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. so i saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate. now i further saw, that between them and the gate was a river: but there was no bridge to go over; and the river was very deep. at the sight therefore of this river the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that went with them said, you must go through or you cannot come at the gate. the pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate. to which they answered, yes; but there hath not any, save two, to wit, enoch and elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall until the last trumpet shall sound. the pilgrims then, especially christian, began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them by which they might escape the river. then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth. they said, no; yet they could not help them in that case; for, said they, you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in the king of the place. they then addressed themselves to the water, and entering, christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend hopeful, he said, i sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all his waves go over me. then said the other, be of good cheer, my brother: i feel the bottom, and it is good. then said christian, ah, my friend, "the sorrows of death have compassed me about," i shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey. and with that a great darkness and horror fell upon christian, so that he could not see before him. also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. but all the words that he spoke still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. it was also observed, that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere awhile, he would rise up again half dead. hopeful also would endeavor to comfort him, saying, brother, i see the gate, and men standing by to receive us; but christian would answer, it is you, it is you they wait for; you have been hopeful ever since i knew you. and so have you, said he to christian. ah, brother! said he, surely if i was right, he would now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. then said hopeful, my brother, you have quite forgot the text where it is said of the wicked, "there are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm; they are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men." these troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters, are no sign that god hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your distresses. then i saw in my dream, that christian was in a muse awhile. to whom also hopeful added these words, be of good cheer, jesus christ maketh thee whole. and with that christian brake out with a loud voice, oh, i see him again; and he tells me "when thou passest through the waters, i shall be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." then they both took courage, and the enemy was, after that, as still as a stone, until they were gone over. christian, therefore, presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow. thus they got over. now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them. wherefore being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, we are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation. thus they went along toward the gate. now you must note, that the city stood upon a mighty hill; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms: they had likewise left their mortal garments behind them in the river; for though they went in with them, they came out without them. they therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds; they therefore went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them. the talk that they had with the shining ones was about the glory of the place; who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. there, said they, is "the mount zion, the heavenly jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect." you are going now, said they, to the paradise of god, where you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never fading fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the king, even all the days of eternity. there you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death; "for the former things are passed away." you are going now to abraham, to isaac, and jacob, and to the prophets, men that god hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now "resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness." the men then asked, what must we do in the holy place? to whom it was answered, you must there receive the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the king by the way. in that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the holy one; for "there you shall see him as he is." there also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. there your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the mighty one. there you shall enjoy your friends again that are gone hither before you; and there you shall with joy receive even every one that follows into the holy place after you. there also you shall be clothed with glory and majesty, and put in an equipage fit to ride out with the king of glory. when he shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with him; and when he shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were his and your enemies. also, when he shall again return to the city, you shall go too with sound of trumpet, and be ever with him. now, while they were thus drawing toward the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said by the other two shining ones, these are the men that have loved our lord, when they were in the world, and that have left all for his holy name; and he has sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their redeemer in the face with joy. then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, "blessed are they that are called to the marriage supper of the lamb." there came out also at this time to meet them several of the king's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who with melodious voices and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. these trumpeters saluted christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet. this done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, and some on the left--as it were to guard them through the upper regions--continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. thus therefore they walked on together; and, as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to christian, and his brother, how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them. and now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. here also they had the city itself in view; and thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. but, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that for ever and ever, oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed!--thus they came up to the gate. now when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in letters of gold, "blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city." then i saw in my dream that the shining men bid them call at the gate: the which when they did, some from above looked over the gate, to wit, enoch, moses, and elijah, etc., to whom it was said, these pilgrims are come from the city of destruction, for the love that they bear to the king of this place: and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning; those, therefore, were carried in to the king, who, when he had read them, said, where are the men? to whom it was answered, they are standing without the gate. the king then commanded to open the gate, "that the righteous nation," said he, "that keepeth truth may enter in." now i saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate; and lo! as they entered, they were transfigured; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. there were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them: the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. then i heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, "enter ye into the joy of our lord." i also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, "blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the lamb, for ever and ever." now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, i looked in after them, and behold the city shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold; and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal. they were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "holy, holy, holy, is the lord." and after that they shut up the gates: which, when i had seen, i wished myself among them. now while i was gazing upon all these things, i turned my head to look back, and saw ignorance come up to the river side; but he soon got over, and that without half the difficulty which the other two men met with. for it happened that there was then in the place one vain-hope, a ferry-man, that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the others i saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate; only he came alone; neither did any meet him with the least encouragement. when he was come up to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him; but he was asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate, whence came you? and what would you have? he answered, i have ate and drank in the presence of the king, and he has taught in our streets. then they asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show it to the king: so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. then said they, have you none? but the man answered never a word. so they told the king, but he would not come down to see him, but commanded the two shining ones, that conducted christian and hopeful to the city, to go out, and take ignorance, and bind him, hand and foot, and have him away. then they took him up, and carried him through the air, to the door that i saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. then i saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gate of heaven, as well as from the city of destruction. so i awoke, and behold it was a dream. the pilgrim who would true valor see let him come hither! one here will constant be, come wind, come weather; there's no discouragement shall make him once relent his first-avow'd intent to be a pilgrim. whoso beset him round with dismal stories, do but themselves confound; his strength the more is. no lion can him fright; he'll with a giant fight; but he will have a right to be a pilgrim. nor enemy, nor fiend, can daunt his spirit; he knows he at the end shall life inherit:-then, fancies, fly away; he'll not fear what men say; he'll labor, night and day, to be a pilgrim. _--j. bunyan_ the great stone face by nathaniel hawthorne one afternoon, when the sun was going down, a mother and her little boy sat at the door of their cottage, talking about the great stone face. they had but to lift their eyes, and there it was plainly to be seen, though miles away, with the sunshine brightening all its features. and what was the great stone face? embosomed among a family of lofty mountains, there was a valley so spacious that it contained many thousand inhabitants. some of these good people dwelt in log huts, with the black forest all around them, on the steep and difficult hillsides. others had their homes in comfortable farmhouses, and cultivated the rich soil on the gentle slopes or level surfaces of the valley. others, again, were congregated into populous villages, where some wild, highland rivulet, tumbling down from its birthplace in the upper mountain region, had been caught and tamed by human cunning, and compelled to turn the machinery of cotton factories. the inhabitants of this valley, in short, were numerous, and of many modes of life. but all of them, grown people and children, had a kind of familiarity with the great stone face, although some possessed the gift of distinguishing this grand natural phenomenon more perfectly than many of their neighbors. the great stone face, then, was a work of nature in her mood of majestic playfulness, formed on the perpendicular side of a mountain by some immense rocks, which had been thrown together in such a position as, when viewed at a proper distance, precisely to resemble the features of the human countenance. it seemed as if an enormous giant, or a titan, had sculptured his own likeness on the precipice. there was the broad arch of the forehead, a hundred feet in height; the nose, with its long bridge; and the vast lips, which, if they could have spoken, would have rolled their thunder accents from one end of the valley to the other. true it is, that if the spectator approached too near, he lost the outline of the gigantic visage, and could discern only a heap of ponderous and gigantic rocks, piled in chaotic ruin one upon another. retracing his steps, however, the wondrous features would again be seen; and the further he withdrew from them, the more like a human face, with all its original divinity intact, did they appear; until, as it grew dim in the distance, with the clouds and glorified vapor of the mountains clustering about it, the great stone face seemed positively to be alive. it was a happy lot for children to grow up to manhood or womanhood with the great stone face before their eyes, for all the features were noble, and the expression was at once grand and sweet, as if it were the glow of a vast, warm heart, that embraced all mankind in its affections, and had room for more. it was an education only to look at it. according to the belief of many people, the valley owed much of its fertility to this benign aspect that was continually beaming over it, illuminating the clouds, and infusing its tenderness into the sunshine. as we began with saying, a mother and her little boy sat at their cottage-door, gazing at the great stone face, and talking about it. the child's name was ernest. "mother," said he, while the titanic visage smiled on him, "i wish that it could speak, for it looks so very kindly that its voice must needs be pleasant. if i were to see a man with such a face, i should love him dearly." "if an old prophecy should come to pass," answered his mother, "we may see a man, some time or other, with exactly such a face as that." "what prophecy do you mean, dear mother?" eagerly inquired ernest. "pray tell me all about it!" so his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her, when she herself was younger than little ernest; a story, not of things that were past, but of what was yet to come; a story, nevertheless, so very old, that even the indians, who formerly inhabited this valley, had heard it from their forefathers, to whom, as they affirmed, it had been murmured by the mountain streams, and whispered by the wind among the tree-tops. the purport was, that, at some future day, a child should be born hereabouts, who was destined to become the greatest and noblest personage of his time, and whose countenance, in manhood, should bear an exact resemblance to the great stone face. not a few old-fashioned people, and young ones likewise, in the ardor of their hopes, still cherished an enduring faith in this old prophecy. but others, who had seen more of the world, had watched and waited till they were weary, and had beheld no man with such a face, nor any man that proved to be much greater or nobler than his neighbors, concluded it to be nothing but an idle tale. at all events, the great man of the prophecy had not yet appeared. "o mother, dear mother!" cried ernest, clapping his hands above his head, "i do hope that i shall live to see him!" his mother was an affectionate and thoughtful woman, and felt that it was wisest not to discourage the generous hopes of her little boy. so she only said to him, "perhaps you may." and ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him. it was always in his mind, whenever he looked upon the great stone face. he spent his childhood in the log-cottage where he was born, and was dutiful to his mother, and helpful to her in many things, assisting her much with his little hands, and more with his loving heart. in this manner, from a happy yet often pensive child, he grew up to be a mild, quiet, unobtrusive boy, and sun-browned with labor in the fields, but with more intelligence brightening his aspect than is seen in many lads who have been taught at famous schools. yet ernest had had no teacher, save only that the great stone face became one to him. when the toil of the day was over, he would gaze at it for hours, until he began to imagine that those vast features recognized him, and gave him a smile of kindness and encouragement, responsive to his own look of veneration. we must not take upon us to affirm that this was a mistake, although the face may have looked no more kindly at ernest than at all the world besides. but the secret was, that the boy's tender and confiding simplicity discerned what other people could not see; and thus the love, which was meant for all, became his peculiar portion. about this time, there went a rumor throughout the valley, that the great man, foretold from ages ago, who was to bear a resemblance to the great stone face, had appeared at last. it seems that, many years before, a young man had migrated from the valley and settled at a distant seaport, where, after getting together a little money, he had set up as a shopkeeper. his name--but i could never learn whether it was his real one, or a nickname that had grown out of his habits and success in life--was gathergold. being shrewd and active, and endowed by providence with that inscrutable faculty which develops itself in what the world calls luck, he became an exceedingly rich merchant, and owner of a whole fleet of bulky-bottomed ships. all the countries of the globe appeared to join hands for the mere purpose of adding heap after heap to the mountainous accumulation of this one man's wealth. the cold regions of the north, almost within the gloom and shadow of the arctic circle, sent him their tribute in the shape of furs; hot africa sifted for him the golden sands of her rivers, and gathered up the ivory tusks of her great elephants out of the forests; the east came bringing him the rich shawls, and spices, and teas, and the effulgence of diamonds, and the gleaming purity of large pearls. the ocean, not to be behindhand with the earth, yielded up her mighty whales, that mr. gathergold might sell their oil, and make a profit on it. be the original commodity what it might, it was gold within his grasp. it might be said of him, as of midas in the fable, that whatever he touched with his finger immediately glistened, and grew yellow, and was changed at once into sterling metal, or, which suited him still better, into piles of coin. and, when mr. gathergold had become so very rich that it would have taken him a hundred years only to count his wealth, he bethought himself of his native valley, and resolved to go back thither, and end his days where he was born. with this purpose in view, he sent a skilful architect to build him such a palace as should be fit for a man of his vast wealth to live in. as i have said above, it had already been rumored in the valley that mr. gathergold had turned out to be the prophetic personage so long and vainly looked for, and that his visage was the perfect and undeniable similitude of the great stone face. people were the more ready to believe that this must needs be the fact, when they beheld the splendid edifice that rose, as if by enchantment, on the site of his father's old weather-beaten farmhouse. the exterior was of marble, so dazzingly white that it seemed as though the whole structure might melt away in the sunshine, like those humbler ones which mr. gathergold, in his young play-days, before his fingers were gifted with the touch of transmutation, had been accustomed to build of snow. it had a richly ornamented portico, supported by tall pillars, beneath which was a lofty door, studded with silver knobs, and made of a kind of variegated wood that had been brought from beyond the sea. the windows, from the floor to the ceiling of each stately apartment, were composed, respectively, of but one enormous pane of glass, so transparently pure that it was said to be a finer medium than even the vacant atmosphere. hardly anybody had been permitted to see the interior of this palace; but it was reported, and with good semblance of truth, to be far more gorgeous than the outside, insomuch that whatever was iron or brass in other houses was silver or gold in this; and mr. gathergold's bedchamber, especially, made such a glittering appearance that no ordinary man would have been able to close his eyes there. but, on the other hand, mr. gathergold was now so inured to wealth, that perhaps he could not have closed his eyes unless where the gleam of it was certain to find its way beneath his eyelids. in due time, the mansion was finished; next came the upholsterers, with magnificent furniture; then, a whole troop of black and white servants, the harbingers of mr. gathergold, who, in his own majestic person, was expected to arrive at sunset. our friend ernest, meanwhile, had been deeply stirred by the idea that the great man, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after so many ages of delay, was at length to be made manifest to his native valley. he knew, boy as he was, that there were a thousand ways in which mr. gathergold, with his vast wealth, might transform himself into an angel of beneficence, and assume a control over human affairs as wide and benignant as the smile of the great stone face. full of faith and hope, ernest doubted not that what the people said was true, and that now he was to behold the living likeness of those wondrous features on the mountain side. while the boy was still gazing up the valley, and fancying, as he always did, that the great stone face returned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the rumbling of wheels was heard, approaching swiftly along the winding road. "here he comes!" cried a group of people who were assembled to witness the arrival. "here comes the great mr. gathergold!" a carriage, drawn by four horses, dashed round the turn of the road. within it, thrust partly out of the window, appeared the physiognomy of a little old man, with a skin as yellow as if his own midas-hand had transmuted it. he had a low forehead, small, sharp eyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, and very thin lips, which he made still thinner by pressing them forcibly together. "the very image of the great stone face!" shouted the people. "sure enough, the old prophecy is true; and here we have the great man come, at last!" and, what greatly perplexed ernest, they seemed actually to believe that here was the likeness which they spoke of. by the roadside there chanced to be an old beggar-woman and two little beggar-children, stragglers from some far-off region, who, as the carriage rolled onward, held out their hands and lifted up their doleful voices, most piteously beseeching charity. a yellow claw--the very same that had clawed together so much wealth--poked itself out of the coach window, and dropped some copper coins upon the ground; so that, though the great man's name seems to have been gathergold, he might just as suitably have been nicknamed scattercopper. still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout, and evidently with as much good faith as ever, the people bellowed-"he is the very image of the great stone face!" but ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewdness of that sordid visage, and gazed up the valley, where, amid a gathering mist, gilded by the last sunbeams, he could still distinguish those glorious features which had impressed themselves into his soul. their aspect cheered him. what did the benign lips seem to say? "he will come! fear not, ernest; the man will come!" the years went on, and ernest ceased to be a boy. he had grown to be a young man now. he attracted little notice from the other inhabitants of the valley; for they saw nothing remarkable in his way of life, save that, when the labor of the day was over, he still loved to go apart and gaze and meditate upon the great stone face. according to their idea of the matter, it was a folly, indeed, but pardonable, inasmuch as ernest was industrious, kind, and neighborly, and neglected no duty for the sake of indulging this idle habit. they knew not that the great stone face had become a teacher to him, and that the sentiment which was expressed in it would enlarge the young man's heart, and fill it with wider and deeper sympathies than other hearts. they knew not that thence would come a better wisdom than could be learned from books, and a better life than could be molded on the defaced example of other human lives. neither did ernest know that the thoughts and affections which came to him so naturally, in the fields and at the fireside, and wherever he communed with himself, were of a higher tone than those which all men shared with him. a simple soul--simple as when his mother first taught him the old prophecy--he beheld the marvellous features beaming adown the valley, and still wondered that their human counterpart was so long in making his appearance. by this time poor mr. gathergold was dead and buried; and the oddest part of the matter was, that his wealth, which was the body and spirit of his existence, had disappeared before his death, leaving nothing of him but a living skeleton, covered over with a wrinkled, yellow skin. since the melting away of his gold, it had been very generally conceded that there was no such striking resemblance, after all, between the ignoble features of the ruined merchant and that majestic face upon the mountain-side. so the people ceased to honor him during his lifetime, and quietly consigned him to forgetfulness after his decease. once in a while, it is true, his memory was brought up in connection with the magnificent palace which he had built, and which had long ago been turned into a hotel for the accommodation of strangers, multitudes of whom came, every summer, to visit that famous natural curiosity, the great stone face. thus, mr, gathergold being discredited and thrown into the shade, the man of prophecy was yet to come. it so happened that a native-born son of the valley, many years before, had enlisted as a soldier, and, after a great deal of hard fighting, had now become an illustrious commander. whatever he may be called in history, he was known in camps and on the battle-field under the nickname of old blood-and-thunder. this war-worn veteran, being now infirm with age and wounds, and weary of the turmoil of a military life, and of the roll of the drum and the clangor of the trumpet, that had so long been ringing in his ears, had lately signified a purpose of returning to his native valley, hoping to find repose where he remembered to have left it. the inhabitants, his old neighbors and their grown-up children, were resolved to welcome the renowned warrior with a salute of cannon and a public dinner; and all the more enthusiastically, it being affirmed that now, at last, the likeness of the great stone face had actually appeared. an aid-de-camp of old blood-and-thunder, travelling through the valley, was said to have been struck with the resemblance. moreover the schoolmates and early acquaintances of the general were ready to testify, on oath, that, to the best of their recollection, the aforesaid general had been exceedingly like the majestic image, even when a boy, only that the idea had never occurred to them at that period. great, therefore, was the excitement throughout the valley; and many people, who had never once thought of glancing at the great stone face for years before, now spent their time in gazing at it, for the sake of knowing exactly how general blood-and-thunder looked. on the day of the great festival, ernest, with all the other people of the valley, left their work, and proceeded to the spot where the sylvan banquet was prepared. as he approached, the loud voice of the rev. dr. battleblast was heard, beseeching a blessing on the good things set before them, and on the distinguished friend of peace in whose honor they were assembled. the tables were arranged in a cleared space of the woods, shut in by the surrounding trees, except where a vista opened eastward, and afforded a distant view of the great stone face. over the general's chair, which was a relic from the home of washington, there was an arch of verdant boughs, with the laurel profusely intermixed, and surmounted by his country's banner, beneath which he had won his victories. our friend ernest raised himself on his tiptoes, in hopes to get a glimpse of the celebrated guest; but there was a mighty crowd about the tables anxious to hear the toasts and speeches, and to catch any word that might fall from the general in reply; and a volunteer company, doing duty as a guard, pricked ruthlessly with their bayonets at any particularly quiet person among the throng. so ernest, being of an unobtrusive character, was thrust quite into the background, where he could see no more of old blood-and-thunder's physiognomy than if it had been still blazing on the battle-field. to console himself, he turned toward the great stone face, which, like a faithful and long-remembered friend, looked back and smiled upon him through the vista of the forest. meantime, however, he could overhear the remarks of various individuals, who were comparing the features of the hero with the face on the distant mountain-side. "'tis the same face, to a hair!" cried one man, cutting a caper for joy. "wonderfully like, that's a fact!" responded another. "like! why, i call it old blood-and-thunder himself, in a monstrous looking-glass!" cried a third. "and why not? he's the greatest man of this or any other age, beyond a doubt." and then all three of the speakers gave a great shout, which communicated electricity to the crowd, and called forth a roar from a thousand voices, that went reverberating for miles among the mountains, until you might have supposed that the great stone face had poured its thunder-breath into the cry. all these comments, and this vast enthusiasm, served the more to interest our friend; nor did he think of questioning that now, at length, the mountain-visage had found its human counterpart. it is true, ernest had imagined that this long-looked-for personage would appear in the character of a man of peace, uttering wisdom, and doing good, and making people happy. but, taking an habitual breadth of view, with all his simplicity, he contended that providence should choose its own method of blessing mankind, and could conceive that this great end might be effected even by a warrior and a bloody sword, should inscrutable wisdom see fit to order matters so. "the general! the general!" was now the cry. "hush! silence! old blood-and-thunder's going to make a speech." even so; for, the cloth being removed, the general's health had been drunk amid shouts of applause, and he now stood upon his feet to thank the company. ernest saw him. there he was, over the shoulders of the crowd, from the two glittering epaulets and embroidered collar upward, beneath the arch of green boughs with intertwined laurel, and the banner drooping as if to shade his brow! and there, too, visible in the same glance, through the vista of the forest, appeared the great stone face! and was there, indeed, such a resemblance as the crowd had testified? alas, ernest could not recognize it! he beheld a war-worn and weather-beaten countenance, full of energy, and expressive of an iron will; but the gentle wisdom, the deep, broad, tender sympathies, were altogether wanting in old blood-and thunder's visage; and even if the great stone face had assumed his look of stern command, the milder traits would still have tempered it. "this is not the man of prophecy," sighed ernest, to himself, as he made his way out of the throng. "and must the world wait longer yet?" the mists had congregated about the distant mountain-side, and there were seen the grand and awful features of the great stone face, awful but benignant, as if a mighty angel were sitting among the hills, and enrobing himself in a cloud-vesture of gold and purple. as he looked, ernest could hardly believe but that a smile beamed over the whole visage, with a radiance still brightening, although without motion of the lips. it was probably the effect of the western sunshine, melting through the thinly diffused vapors that had swept between him and the object that he gazed at. but--as it always did--the aspect of his marvellous friend made ernest as hopeful as if he had never hoped in vain. "fear not, ernest," said his heart, even as if the great face were whispering him--"fear not, ernest; he will come." more years sped swiftly and tranquilly away. ernest still dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of middle age. by imperceptible degrees, he had become known among the people. now, as heretofore, he labored for his bread, and was the same simple-hearted man that he had always been. but he had thought and felt so much, he had given so many of the best hours of his life to unworldly hopes for some great good to mankind, that it seemed as though he had been talking with the angels, and had imbibed a portion of their wisdom unawares. it was visible in the calm and well-considered beneficence of his daily life, the quiet stream of which had made a wide green margin all along its course. not a day passed by, that the world was not the better because this man, humble as he was, had lived. he never stepped aside from his own path, yet would always reach a blessing to his neighbor. almost involuntarily, too, he had become a preacher. the pure and high simplicity of his thought, which, as one of its manifestations, took shape in the good deeds that dropped silently from his hand, flowed also forth in speech. he uttered truths that wrought upon and molded the lives of those who heard him. his auditors, it may be, never suspected that ernest, their own neighbor and familiar friend, was more than an ordinary man; least of all did ernest himself suspect it; but, inevitably as the murmur of a rivulet, came thoughts out of his mouth that no other human lips had spoken. when the people's minds had had a little time to cool, they were ready enough to acknowledge their mistake in imagining a similarity between general blood-and-thunder's truculent physiognomy and the benign visage on the mountain-side. but now, again, there were reports and many paragraphs in the newspapers, affirming that the likeness of the great stone face had appeared upon the broad shoulders of a certain eminent statesman. he, like mr. gathergold and old blood-and-thunder, was a native of the valley, but had left it in his early days, and taken up the trades of law and politics. instead of the rich man's wealth and the warrior's sword, he had but a tongue, and it was mightier than both together. so wonderfully eloquent was he, that whatever he might choose to say, his auditors had no choice but to believe him; wrong looked like right, and right like wrong; for when it pleased him, he could make a kind of illuminated fog with his mere breath, and obscure the natural daylight with it. his tongue, indeed, was a magic instrument: sometimes it rumbled like the thunder; sometimes it warbled like the sweetest music. it was the blast of war--the song of peace; and it seemed to have a heart in it, when there was no such matter. in good truth, he was a wondrous man; and when his tongue had acquired him all other imaginable success,--when it had been heard in halls of state, and in the courts of princes and potentates--after it had made him known all over the world, even as a voice crying from shore to shore--it finally persuaded his countrymen to select him for the presidency. before this time--indeed, as soon as he began to grow celebrated--his admirers had found out the resemblance between him and the great stone face; and so much were they struck by it, that throughout the country this distinguished gentleman was known by the name of old stony phiz. the phrase was considered as giving a highly favorable aspect to his political prospects; for, as is likewise the case with the popedom, nobody ever becomes president without taking a name other than his own. while his friends were doing their best to make him president, old stony phiz, as he was called, set out on a visit to the valley where he was born. of course, he had no other object than to shake hands with his fellow-citizens, and neither thought nor cared about any effect which his progress through the country might have upon the election. magnificent preparations were made to receive the illustrious statesman; a cavalcade of horsemen set forth to meet him at the boundary line of the state, and all the people left their business and gathered along the wayside to see him pass. among these was ernest. though more than once disappointed, as we have seen, he had such a hopeful and confiding nature, that he was always ready to believe in whatever seemed beautiful and good. he kept his heart continually open, and thus was sure to catch the blessing from on high, when it should come. so now again, as buoyantly as ever, he went forth to behold the likeness of the great stone face. the cavalcade came prancing along the road, with a great clattering of hoofs and a mighty cloud of dust, which rose up so dense and high that the visage of the mountain-side was completely hidden from ernest's eyes. all the great men of the neighborhood were there on horseback: militia officers, in uniform; the member of congress; the sheriff of the county; the editors of newspapers; and many a farmer, too, had mounted his patient steed, with his sunday coat upon his back. it really was a very brilliant spectacle, especially as there were numerous banners flaunting over the cavalcade, on some of which were gorgeous portraits of the illustrious statesman and the great stone face, smiling familiarly at one another, like two brothers. if the pictures were to be trusted, the mutual resemblance, it must be confessed, was marvellous. we must not forget to mention that there was a band of music, which made the echoes of the mountains ring and reverberate with the loud triumph of its strains; so that airy and soul-thrilling melodies broke out among all the heights and hollows, as if every nook of his native valley had found a voice, to welcome the distinguished guest. but the grandest effect was when the far-off mountain precipice flung back the music; for then the great stone face itself seemed to be swelling the triumphant chorus, in acknowledgment that, at length, the man of prophecy was come. all this while the people were throwing up their hats and shouting, with enthusiasm so contagious that the heart of ernest kindled up, and he likewise threw up his hat, and shouted, as loudly as the loudest, "huzza for the great man! huzza for old stony phiz!" but as yet he had not seen him. "here he is, now!" cried those who stood near ernest. "there! there! look at old stony phiz and then at the old man of the mountain, and see if they are not as like as two twin-brothers!" in the midst of all this gallant array, came an open barouche, drawn by four white horses; and in the barouche, with his massive head uncovered, sat the illustrious statesman, old stony phiz himself. "confess it," said one of ernest's neighbors to him, "the great stone face has met its match at last!" now, it must be owned that, at his first glimpse of the countenance which was bowing and smiling from the barouche, ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance between it and the old familiar face upon the mountain-side. the brow, with its massive depth and loftiness, and all the other features, indeed, were boldly and strongly hewn, as if in emulation of a more than heroic, of a titanic model. but the sublimity and stateliness, the grand expression of a divine sympathy, that illuminated the mountain visage, and etherealized its ponderous granite substance into spirit, might here be sought in vain. something had been originally left out, or had departed. and therefore the marvellously gifted statesman had always a weary gloom in the deep caverns of his eyes, as of a child that has outgrown its playthings, or a man of mighty faculties and little aims, whose life, with all its high performances, was vague and empty, because no high purpose had endowed it with reality. still, ernest's neighbor was thrusting his elbow into his side, and pressing him for an answer. "confess! confess! is not he the very picture of your old man of the mountain?" "no!" said ernest, bluntly, "i see little or no likeness." "then so much the worse for the great stone face!" answered his neighbor; and again he set up a shout for old stony phiz. but ernest turned away, melancholy, and almost despondent: for this was the saddest of his disappointments, to behold a man who might have fulfilled the prophecy, and had not willed to do so. meantime, the cavalcade, the banners, the music, and the barouches swept past him, with the vociferous crowd in the rear, leaving the dust to settle down, and the great stone face to be revealed again, with the grandeur that it had worn for untold centuries. "lo, here i am, ernest!" the benign lips seemed to say. "i have waited longer than thou, and am not yet weary. fear not; the man will come." the years hurried onward, treading in their haste on one another's heels. and now they began to bring white hairs, and scatter them over the head of ernest; they made reverend wrinkles across his forehead, and furrows in his cheeks. he was an aged man. but not in vain had he grown old: more than the white hairs on his head were the sage thoughts in his mind; his wrinkles and furrows were inscriptions that time had graved, and in which he had written legends of wisdom that had been tested by the tenor of a life. and ernest had ceased to be obscure. unsought for, undesired, had come the fame which so many seek, and made him known in the great world, beyond the limits of the valiey in which he had dwelt so quietly. college professors, and even the active men of cities, came from far to see and converse with ernest; for the report had gone abroad that this simple husbandman had ideas unlike those of other men, not gained from books, but of a higher tone--a tranquil and familiar majesty, as if he had been talking with the angels as his daily friends. whether it were sage, statesman, or philanthropist, ernest received these visitors with the gentle sincerity that had characterized him from boyhood, and spoke freely with them of whatever came uppermost, or lay deepest in his heart or their own. while they talked together, his face would kindle, unawares, and shine upon them, as with a mild evening light. pensive with the fulness of such discourse, his guests took leave and went their way; and passing up the valley, paused to look at the great stone face, imagining that they had seen its likeness in a human countenance, but could not remember where. while ernest had been growing up and growing old, a bountiful providence had granted a new poet to this earth. he, likewise, was a native of the valley, but had spent the greater part of his life at a distance from that romantic region, pouring out his sweet music amid the bustle and din of cities. often, however, did the mountains which had been familiar to him in his childhood lift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of his poetry. neither was the great stone face forgotten, for the poet had celebrated it in an ode, which was grand enough to have been uttered by its own majestic lips. this man of genius, we may say, had come down from heaven with wonderful endowments. if he sang of a mountain, the eyes of all mankind beheld a mightier grandeur reposing on its breast, or soaring to its summit, than had before been seen there. if his theme were a lovely lake, a celestial smile had now been thrown over it, to gleam forever on its surface. if it were the vast old sea, even the deep immensity of its dread bosom seemed to swell the higher, as if moved by the emotions of the song. thus the world assumed another and a better aspect from the hour that the poet blessed it with his happy eyes. the creator had bestowed him, as the last best touch to his own handiwork. creation was not finished till the poet came to interpret, and so complete it. the effect was no less high and beautiful, when his human brethren were the subject of his verse. the man or woman, sordid with the common dust of life, who crossed his daily path, and the little child who played in it, were glorified if he beheld them in his mood of poetic faith. he showed the golden links of the great chain that intertwined them with an angelic kindred; he brought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that made them worthy of such kin. some, indeed, there were, who thought to show the soundness of their judgment by affirming that all the beauty and dignity of the natural world existed only in the poet's fancy. let such men speak for themselves, who undoubtedly appear to have been spawned forth by nature with a contemptuous bitterness; she having plastered them up out of her refuse stuff, after all the swine were made. as respects all things else, the poet's ideal was the truest truth. the songs of this poet found their way to ernest. he read them after his customary toil, seated on the bench before his cottage-door, where for such a length of time he had filled his repose with thought, by gazing at the great stone face. and now as he read stanzas that caused the soul to thrill within him, he lifted his eyes to the vast countenance beaming on him so benignantly. "o majestic friend," he murmured, addressing the great stone face, "is not this man worthy to resemble thee?" the face seemed to smile, but answered not a word. now it happened that the poet, though he dwelt so far away, had not only heard of ernest, but had meditated much upon his character, until he deemed nothing so desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wisdom walked hand in hand with the noble simplicity of his life. one summer morning, therefore, he took passage by the railroad, and, in the decline of the afternoon, alighted from the cars at no great distance from ernest's cottage. the great hotel, which had formerly been the palace of mr. gathergold, was close at hand, but the poet, with his carpet-bag on his arm, inquired at once where ernest dwelt, and was resolved to be accepted as his guest. approaching the door, he there found the good old man, holding a volume in his hand, which alternately he read, and then, with a finger between the leaves, looked lovingly at the great stone face. "good evening," said the poet. "can you give a traveller a night's lodging?" "willingly," answered ernest; and then he added, smiling, "methinks i never saw the great stone face look so hospitably at a stranger." the poet sat down on the bench beside him, and he and ernest talked together. often had the poet held intercourse with the wittiest and the wisest, but never before with a man like ernest, whose thoughts and feelings gushed up with such a natural freedom, and who made great truths so familiar by his simple utterance of them. angels, as had been so often said, seemed to have wrought with him at his labor in the fields; angels seemed to have sat with him by the fireside; and, dwelling with angels as friend with friends, he had imbibed the sublimity of their ideas, and imbued it with the sweet and lowly charm of household words. so thought the poet. and ernest, on the other hand, was moved and agitated by the living images which the poet flung out of his mind, and which peopled all the air about the cottage-door with shapes of beauty, both gay and pensive. the sympathies of these two men instructed them with a profounder sense than either could have attained alone. their minds accorded into one strain, and made delightful music which neither of them could have claimed as all his own, nor distinguished his own share from the other's. they led one another, as it were, into a high pavilion of their thoughts, so remote, and hitherto so dim, that they had never entered it before, and so beautiful that they desired to be there always. as ernest listened to the poet, he imagined that the great stone face was bending forward to listen too. he gazed earnestly into the poet's glowing eyes. "who are you, my strangely gifted guest?" he said. the poet laid his finger on the volume that ernest had been reading. "you have read these poems," said he. "you know me, then--for i wrote them." again, and still more earnestly than before, ernest examined the poet's features; then turned toward the great stone face; then back, with an uncertain aspect, to his guest. but his countenance fell; he shook his head, and sighed. "wherefore are you sad?" inquired the poet. "because," replied ernest, "all through life i have awaited the fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when i read these poems, i hoped that it might be fulfilled in you." "you hoped," answered the poet, faintly smiling, "to find in me the likeness of the great stone face. and you are disappointed, as formerly with mr. gathergold, and old blood-and-thunder, and old stony phiz. yes, ernest, it is my doom. you must add my name to the illustrious three, and record another failure of your hopes. for--in shame and sadness do i speak it, ernest--i am not worthy to be typified by yonder benign and majestic image." "and why?" asked ernest. he pointed to the volume. "are not those thoughts divine?" "they have a strain of the divinity," replied the poet. "you can hear in them the far-off echo of a heavenly song. but my life, dear ernest, has not corresponded with my thought. i have had grand dreams, but they have been only dreams, because i have lived--and that, too, by my own choice--among poor and mean realities. sometimes even--shall i dare to say it?--i lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the goodness, which my own works are said to have made more evident in nature and in human life. why, then, pure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to find me, in yonder image of the divine?" the poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with tears. so, likewise, were those of ernest. at the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent custom, ernest was to discourse to an assemblage of the neighboring inhabitants in the open air. he and the poet, arm in arm, still talking together as they went along, proceeded to the spot. it was a small nook among the hills, with a gray precipice behind, the stern front of which was relieved by the pleasant foliage of many creeping plants, that made a tapestry for the naked rock, by hanging their festoons from all its rugged angles. at a small elevation above the ground, set in a rich framework of verdure, there appeared a niche, spacious enough to admit a human figure, with freedom for such gestures as spontaneously ascompany earnest thought and genuine emotion. into this natural pulpit ernest ascended, and threw a look of familiar kindness around upon his audience. they stood, or sat, or reclined upon the grass, as seemed good to each, with the departing sunshine falling obliquely over them, and mingling its subdued cheerfulness with the solemnity of a grove of ancient trees, beneath and amid the boughs of which the golden rays were constrained to pass. in another direction was seen the great stone face, with the same cheer, combined with the same solemnity, in its benignant aspect. ernest began to speak, giving to the people of what was in his heart and mind. his words had power, because they accorded with his thoughts; and his thoughts had reality and depth, because they harmonized with the life which he had always lived. it was not mere breath that this preacher uttered; they were the words of life, because a life of good deeds and holy love was melted into them. pearls, pure and rich, had been dissolved into this precious draught. the poet, as he listened, felt that the being and character of ernest were a nobler strain of poetry than he had ever written. his eyes glistening with tears, he gazed reverentially at the venerable man, and said within himself that never was there an aspect so worthy of a prophet and a sage as that mild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with the glory of white hair diffused about it. at a distance, but distinctly to be seen, high up in the golden light of the setting sun, appeared the great stone face, with hoary mists around it, like the white hairs around the brow of ernest. its look of grand beneficence seemed to embrace the world. at that moment, in sympathy with a thought which he was about to utter, the face of ernest assumed a grandeur of expression, so imbued with benevolence, that the poet, by an irresistible impulse, threw his arms aloft, and shouted: "behold! behold! ernest is himself the likeness of the great stone face!" then all the people looked, and saw that what the deep-sighted poet said was true. the prophecy was fulfilled. but ernest, having finished what he had to say, took the poet's arm, and walked slowly homeward, still hoping that some wiser and better man than himself would by and by appear, bearing a resemblance to the great stone face. the gentle boy by nathaniel hawthorne in the course of the year 1656, several of the people called quakers, led, as they professed, by the inward movement of the spirit, made their appearance in new england. their reputation, as holders of mystic and pernicious principles, having spread before them, the puritans early endeavored to banish, and to prevent the further intrusion of the rising sect. but the measures by which it was intended to purge the land of heresy, though more than sufficiently vigorous, were entirely unsuccessful. the quakers, esteeming persecution as a divine call to the post of danger, laid claim to a holy courage, unknown to the puritans themselves, who had shunned the cross, by providing for the peaceable exercise of their religion in a distant wilderness. though it was the singular fact, that every nation of the earth rejected the wandering enthusiasts who practiced peace toward all men, the place of greatest uneasiness and peril, and therefore, in their eyes, the most eligible, was the province of massachusetts bay. the fines, imprisonments, and stripes, liberally distributed by our pious forefathers, the popular antipathy, so strong that it endured nearly a hundred years after actual persecution had ceased, were attractions as powerful for the quakers as peace, honor, and reward would have been for the wordly-minded. every european vessel brought new cargoes of the sect, eager to testify against the oppression which they hoped to share; and, when shipmasters were restrained by heavy fines from affording them passage, they made long and circuitous journeys through the indian country, and appeared in the province as if conveyed by a supernatural power. their enthusiasm, heightened almost to madness by the treatment which they received, produced actions contrary to the rules of decency, as well as of rational religion, and presented a singular contrast to the calm and staid deportment of their sectarian successors of the present day. the command of the spirit, inaudible except to the soul, and not to be controverted on grounds of human wisdom, was made a plea for most indecorous exhibitions, which, abstractedly considered, well deserved the moderate chastisement of the rod. these extravagances, and the persecution which was at once their cause and consequence, continued to increase, till, in the year 1659, the government of massachusetts bay indulged two members of the quaker sect with the crown of martyrdom. an indelible stain of blood is upon the hands of all who consented to this act, but a large share of the awful responsibility must rest upon the person then at the head of the government. he was a man of narrow mind and imperfect education, and his uncompromising bigotry was made hot and mischievous by violent and hasty passions; he exerted his influence indecorously and unjustifiably to compass the death of the enthusiasts; and his whole conduct, in respect to them, was marked by brutal cruelty. the quakers, whose revengeful feelings were not less deep because they were inactive, remembered this man and his associates, in after times. the historian of the sect affirms that, by the wrath of heaven, a blight fell upon the land in the vicinity of the "bloody town" of boston, so that no wheat would grow there; and he takes his stand, as it were, among the graves of the ancient persecutors, and triumphantly recounts the judgments that overtook them, in old age or at the parting hour. he tells us that they died suddenly, and violently, and in madness; but nothing can exceed the bitter mockery with which he records the loathsome disease, and "death by rottenness," of the fierce and cruel governor. on the evening of the autumn day, that had witnessed the martyrdom of two men of the quaker persuasion, a puritan settler was returning from the metropolis to the neighboring country town in which he resided. the air was cool, the sky clear, and the lingering twilight was made brighter by the rays of a young moon, which had now nearly reached the verge of the horizon. the traveller, a man of middle age, wrapped in a gray frieze cloak, quickened his pace when he had reached the outskirts of the town, for a gloomy extent of nearly four miles lay between him and his home. the low, straw-thatched houses were scattered at considerable intervals along the road, and the country having been settled but about thirty years, the tracts of original forest still bore no small proportion to the cultivated ground. the autumn wind wandered among the branches, whirling away the leaves from all except the pine-trees, and moaning as if it lamented the desolation of which it was the instrument. the road had penetrated the mass of woods that lay nearest to the town, and was just emerging into an open space, when the traveller's ears were saluted by a sound more mournful than even that of the wind. it was like the wailing of some one in distress, and it seemed to proceed from beneath a tall and lonely fir-tree, in the centre of a cleared, but uninclosed and uncultivated field. the puritan could not but remember that this was the very spot which had been made accursed a few hours before by the execution of the quakers, whose bodies had been thrown together into one hasty grave, beneath the tree on which they suffered. he struggled, however, against the superstitious fears which belonged to the age, and compelled himself to pause and listen. "the voice is most likely mortal, nor have i cause to tremble if it be otherwise," thought he, straining his eyes through the dim moonlight. "methinks it is like the wailing of a child; some infant, it may be, which has strayed from its mother, and chanced upon this place of death. for the ease of mine own conscience, i must search this matter out." he therefore left the path, and walked somewhat fearfully across the field. though now so desolate, its soil was pressed down and trampled by the thousand footsteps of those who had witnessed the spectacle of that day, all of whom had now retired, leaving the dead to their loneliness. the traveller at length reached the fir-tree, which from the middle upward was covered with living branches, although a scaffold had been erected beneath, and other preparations made for the work of death. under this unhappy tree, which in after times was believed to drop poison with its dew, sat the one solitary mourner for innocent blood. it was a slender and light-clad little boy, who leaned his face upon a hillock of fresh-turned and half-frozen earth, and wailed bitterly, yet in a suppressed tone, as if his grief might receive the punishment of crime. the puritan, whose approach had been unperceived, laid his hand upon the child's shoulder, and addressed him compassionately. "you have chosen a dreary lodging, my poor boy, and no wonder that you weep," said he. "but dry your eyes, and tell me where your mother dwells. i promise you if the journey be not too far, i will leave you in her arms to-night." the boy had hushed his wailing at once, and turned his face upward to the stranger. it was a pale, bright-eyed countenance, certainly not more than six years old, but sorrow, fear, and want had destroyed much of its infantile expression. the puritan, seeing the boy's frightened gaze, and feeling that he trembled under his hand, endeavored to reassure him. "nay, if i intended to do you harm, little lad, the readiest way were to leave you here. what! you do not fear to sit beneath the gallows on a new-made grave, and yet you tremble at a friend's touch. take heart, child, and tell me what is your name, and where is your home!" "friend," replied the little boy, in a sweet, though faltering voice, "they call me ilbrahim, and my home is here." the pale, spiritual face, the eyes that seemed to mingle with the moonlight, the sweet airy voice, and the outlandish name almost made the puritan believe that the boy was in truth a being which had sprung up out of the grave on which he sat. but perceiving that the apparition stood the test of a short mental prayer, and remembering that the arm which he had touched was life-like, he adopted a more rational supposition. "the poor child is stricken in his intellect," thought he, "but verily his words are fearful, in a place like this." he then spoke soothingly, intending to humor the boy's fantasy. "your home will scarce be comfortable, ilbrahim, this cold autumn night, and i fear you are ill provided with food. i am hastening to a warm supper and bed, and if you will go with me, you shall share them!" "i thank thee, friend, but though i be hungry, and shivering with cold, thou wilt not give me food nor lodging," replied the boy, in the quiet tone which despair had taught him, even so young. "my father was of the people whom all men hate. they have laid him under this heap of earth, and here is my home." the puritan, who had laid hold of little ilbrahim's hand, relinquished it as if he were touching a loathsome reptile. but he possessed a compassionate heart, which not even religious prejudice could harden into stone. "god forbid that i should leave this child to perish, though he comes of the accursed sect," said he to himself. "do we not all spring from an evil root? are we not all in darkness till the light doth shine upon us? he shall not perish, neither in body, nor, if prayer and instruction may avail for him, in soul." he then spoke aloud and kindly to ilbrahim, who had again hid his face in the cold earth of the grave. "was every door in the land shut against you, my child, that you have wandered to this unhallowed spot?" "they drove me forth from the prison when they took my father thence," said the boy, "and i stood afar off, watching the crowd of people; and when they were gone, i came hither, and found only this grave. i knew that my father was sleeping here, and i said, this shall be my home." "no, child, no; not while i have a roof over my head, or a morsel to share with you!" exclaimed the puritan, whose sympathies were now fully excited. "rise up and come with me, and fear not any harm." the boy wept afresh, and clung to the heap of earth, as if the cold heart beneath it were warmer to him than any in a living breast. the traveller, however, continued to entreat him tenderly, and seeming to acquire some degree of confidence, he at length arose. but his slender limbs tottered with weakness, his little head grew dizzy, and he leaned against the tree of death for support. "my poor boy, are you so feeble?" said the puritan. "when did you taste food last?" "i ate of bread and water with my father in the prison," replied ilbrahim, "but they brought him none neither yesterday nor to-day, saying that he had eaten enough to bear him to his journey's end. trouble not thyself for my hunger, kind friend, for i have lacked food many times ere now." the traveller took the child in his arms and wrapped his cloak about him, while his heart stirred with shame and anger against the gratuitous cruelty of the instruments in this persecution. in the awakened warmth of his feelings, he resolved that, at whatever risk, he would not forsake the poor little defenceless being whom heaven had confided to his care. with this determination, he left the accursed field, and resumed the homeward path from which the wailing of the boy had called him. the light and motionless burden scarcely impeded his progress, and he soon beheld the fire rays from the windows of the cottage which he, a native of a distant clime, had built in the western wilderness. it was surrounded by a considerable extent of cultivated ground, and the dwelling was situated in the nook of a wood-covered hill, whither it seemed to have crept for protection. "look up, child," said the puritan to ilbrahim, whose faint head had sunk upon his shoulder, "there is our home." at the word "home," a thrill passed through the child's frame, but he continued silent. a few moments brought them to the cottage-door, at which the owner knocked; for at that early period, when savages were wandering everywhere among the settlers, bolt and bar were indispensable to the security of a dwelling. the summons was answered by a bond-servant, a coarse-clad and dull-featured piece of humanity, who, after ascertaining that his master was the applicant, undid the door, and held a flaring pine-knot torch to light him in. further back in the passageway, the red blaze discovered a matronly woman, but no little crowd of children came bounding forth to greet their father's return. as the puritan entered, he thrust aside his cloak, and displayed ilbrahim's face to the female. "dorothy, here is a little outcast whom providence hath put into our hands," observed he. "be kind to him, even as if he were of those dear ones who have departed from us." "what pale and bright-eyed little boy is this, tobias?" she inquired. "is he one whom the wilderness folk have ravished from some christian mother?" "no, dorothy, this poor child is no captive from the wilderness," he replied. "the heathen savage would have given him to eat of his scanty morsel, and to drink of his birchen cup; but christian men, alas! had cast him out to die." then he told her how he had found him beneath the gallows, upon his father's grave; and how his heart had prompted him, like the speaking of an inward voice, to take the little outcast home, and be kind unto him. he acknowledged his resolution to feed and clothe him, as if he were his own child, and to afford him the instruction which should counteract the pernicious errors hitherto instilled into his infant mind. dorothy was gifted with even a quicker tenderness than her husband, and she approved of all his doings and intentions. "have you a mother, dear child?" she inquired. the tears burst forth from his full heart, as he attempted to reply; but dorothy at length understood that he had a mother, who, like the rest of her sect, was a persecuted wanderer. she had been taken from the prison a short time before, carried into the uninhabited wilderness, and left to perish there by hunger or wild beasts. this was no uncommon method of disposing of the quakers, and they were accustomed to boast, that the inhabitants of the desert were more hospitable to them than civilized man. "fear not, little boy, you shall not need a mother, and a kind one," said dorothy, when she had gathered this information. "dry your tears, ilbrahim, and be my child, as i will be your mother." the good woman prepared the little bed, from which her own children had successively been borne to another resting-place. before ilbrahim would consent to occupy it, he knelt down, and as dorothy listened to his simple and affecting prayer, she marvelled how the parents that had taught it to him could have been judged worthy of death. when the boy had fallen asleep, she bent over his pale and spiritual countenance, pressed a kiss upon his white brow, drew the bedclothes up about his neck, and went away with a pensive gladness in her heart. tobias pearson was not among the earliest emigrants from the old country. he had remained in england during the first years of the civil war, in which he had borne some share as a cornet of dragoons, under cromwell. but when the ambitious designs of his leader began to develop themselves, he quitted the army of the parliament, and sought a refuge from the strife, which was no longer holy, among the people of his persuasion in the colony of massachusetts. a more worldly consideration had perhaps an influence in drawing him thither; for new england offered advantages to men of unprosperous fortunes, as well as to dissatisfied religionists, and pearson had hitherto found it difficult to provide for a wife and increasing family. to this supposed impurity of motive, the more bigoted puritans were inclined to impute the removal by death of all the children, for whose earthly good the father had been over-thoughtful. they had left their native country blooming like roses, and like roses they had perished in a foreign soil. those expounders of the ways of providence, who had thus judged their brother, and attributed his domestic sorrows to his sin, were not more charitable when they saw him and dorothy endeavoring to fill up the void in their hearts by the adoption of an infant of the accursed sect. nor did they fail to communicate their disapprobation to tobias; but the latter, in reply, merely pointed at the little, quiet, lovely boy, whose appearance and deportment were indeed as powerful arguments as could possibly have been adduced in his own favor. even his beauty, however, and his winning manners, sometimes produced an effect ultimately unfavorable; for the bigots, when the outer surfaces of their iron hearts had been softened and again grew hard, affirmed that no merely natural cause could have so worked upon them. their antipathy to the poor infant was also increased by the ill success of divers theological discussions, in which it was attempted to convince him of the errors of his sect. ilbrahim, it is true, was not a skilful controversialist; but the feeling of his religion was strong as instinct in him, and he could neither be enticed nor driven from the faith which his father had died for. the odium of this stubbornness was shared in a great measure by the child's protectors, insomuch that tobias and dorothy very shortly began to experience a most bitter species of persecution, in the cold regards of many a friend whom they had valued. the common people manifested their opinions more openly. pearson was a man of some consideration, being a representative to the general court, and an approved lieutenant in the trainbands; yet within a week after his adoption of ilbrahim, he had been both hissed and hooted. once, also, when walking through a solitary piece of woods, he heard a loud voice from some invisible speaker; and it cried, "what shall be done to the backslider? lo! the scourge is knotted for him, even the whip of nine cords, and every cord three knots!" these insults irritated pearson's temper for the moment; they entered also into his heart, and became imperceptible but powerful workers toward an end which his most secret thought had not yet whispered. * * * * * on the second sabbath after ilbrahim became a member of their family, pearson and his wife deemed it proper that he should appear with them at public worship. they had anticipated some opposition to this measure from the boy, but he prepared himself in silence, and at the appointed hour was clad in the new mourning suit which dorothy had wrought for him. as the parish was then, and during many subsequent years, unprovided with a bell, the signal for the commencement of religious exercises was the beat of a drum. at the first sound of that martial call to the place of holy and quiet thoughts, tobias and dorothy set forth, each holding a hand of little ilbrahim, like two parents linked together by the infant of their love. on their path through the leafless woods, they were overtaken by many persons of their acquaintance, all of whom avoided them, and passed by on the other side; but a severer trial awaited their constancy when they had descended the hill, and drew near the pine-built and undecorated house of prayer. around the door, from which the drummer still sent forth his thundering summons, was drawn up a formidable phalanx, including several of the oldest members of the congregation, many of the middle aged, and nearly all the younger males. pearson found it difficult to sustain their united and disapproving gaze; but dorothy, whose mind was differently circumstanced, merely drew the boy closer to her, and faltered not in her approach. as they entered the door, they overheard the muttered sentiments of the assemblage, and when the reviling voices of the little children smote ilbrahim's ear, he wept. the interior aspect of the meeting-house was rude. the low ceiling, the unplastered walls, the naked woodwork, and the undraperied pulpit offered nothing to excite the devotion, which, without such external aids, often remains latent in the heart. the floor of the building was occupied by rows of long, cushionless benches, supplying the place of pews, and the broad aisle formed a sexual division, impassable except by children beneath a certain age. pearson and dorothy separated at the door of the meeting-house, and ilbrahim, being within the years of infancy, was retained under the care of the latter. the wrinkled beldams involved themselves in their rusty cloaks as he passed by; even the mild-featured maidens seemed to dread contamination; and many a stern old man arose, and turned his repulsive and unheavenly countenance upon the gentle boy, as if the sanctuary were polluted by his presence. he was a sweet infant of the skies, that had strayed away from his home, and all the inhabitants of this miserable world closed up their impure hearts against him, drew back their earth-soiled garments from his touch, and said, "we are holier than thou." ilbrahim, seated by the side of his adopted mother, and retaining fast hold of her hand, assumed a grave and decorous demeanor, such as might befit a person of matured taste and understanding, who should find himself in a temple dedicated to some worship which he did not recognize, but felt himself bound to respect. the exercises had not yet commenced, however, when the boy's attention was arrested by an event, apparently of trifling interest. a woman, having her face muffled in a hood, and a cloak drawn completely about her form, advanced slowly up the broad aisle, and took a place upon the foremost bench. ilbrahim's faint color varied, his nerves fluttered, he was unable to turn his eyes from the muffled female. when the preliminary prayer and hymn were over, the minister arose, and having turned the hour-glass which stood by the great bible, commenced his discourse. he was now well stricken in years, a man of pale, thin countenance, and his gray hairs were closely covered by a black velvet skull cap. in his younger days he had practically learned the meaning of persecution from archbishop laud, and he was not now disposed to forget the lesson against which he had murmured then. introducing the often-discussed subject of the quakers, he gave a history of that sect, and a description of their tenets, in which error predominated, and prejudice distorted the aspect of what was true. he adverted to the recent measures in the province, and cautioned his hearers of weaker parts against calling in question the just severity which god-fearing magistrates had at length been compelled to exercise. he spoke of the danger of pity, in some cases a commendable and christian virtue, but inapplicable to this pernicious sect. he observed that such was their devilish obstinacy in error, that even the little children, the sucking babes, were hardened and desperate heretics. he affirmed that no man, without heaven's especial warrant, should attempt their conversion, lest while he lent his hand to draw them from the slough, he should himself be precipitated into its lowest depths. the sands of the second hour were principally in the lower half of the glass when the sermon concluded. an approving murmur followed, and the clergyman, having given out a hymn, took his seat with much self-congratulation, and endeavored to read the effect of his eloquence in the visages of the people. but while voices from all parts of the house were tuning themselves to sing, a scene occurred, which, though not very unusual at that period in the province, happened to be without precedent in this parish. the muffled female, who had hitherto sat motionless in the front rank of the audience, now arose, and with slow, stately, and unwavering step ascended the pulpit stairs. the quiverings of incipient harmony were hushed, and the divine sat in speechless and almost terrified astonishment, while she undid the door, and stood up in the sacred desk from which his maledictions had just been thundered. she then divested herself of the cloak and hood, and appeared in a most singular array. a shapeless robe of sackcloth was girded about her waist with a knotted cord; her raven hair fell down upon her shoulders, and its blackness was defiled by pale streaks of ashes, which she had strewn upon her head. her eyebrows, dark and strongly defined, added to the deathly whiteness of a countenance, which, emaciated with want, and wild with enthusiasm and strange sorrows, retained no trace of earlier beauty. this figure stood gazing earnestly on the audience, and there was no sound, nor any movement, except a faint shuddering which every man observed in his neighbor, but was scarcely conscious of in himself. at length, when her fit of inspiration came, she spoke, for the first few moments in a low voice and not invariably distinct utterance. her discourse gave evidence of an imagination hopelessly entangled with her reason; it was a vague and incomprehensible rhapsody, which, however, seemed to spread its own atmosphere round the hearer's soul, and to move his feelings by some influence unconnected with the words. as she proceeded, beautiful but shadowy images would sometimes be seen, like bright things moving in a turbid river; or a strong and singularly shaped idea leaped forth, and seized at once on the understanding or the heart. but the course of her unearthly eloquence soon led her to the persecutions of her sect, and from thence the step was short to her own peculiar sorrows. she was naturally a woman of mighty passions, and hatred and revenge now wrapped themselves in the garb of piety; the character of her speech was changed, her images became distinct though wild, and her denunciations had an almost hellish bitterness. "the governor and his mighty men," she said, "have gathered together, taking counsel among themselves and saying, 'what shall we do unto this people--even unto the people that have come into this land to put our iniquity to the blush?' and lo! the devil entereth into the council-chamber, like a lame man of low stature and gravely apparelled, with a dark and twisted countenance, and a bright, downcast eye. and he standeth up among the rulers; yea, he goeth to and fro, whispering to each; and every man lends his ear, for his word is, 'slay, slay!' but i say unto ye, woe to them that slay! woe to them that shed the blood of saints! woe to them that have slain the husband, and cast forth the child, the tender infant, to wander homeless, and hungry, and cold, till he die; and have saved the mother alive, in the cruelty of their tender mercies! woe to them in their lifetime, cursed are they in the delight and pleasure of their hearts! woe to them in their death-hour, whether it come swiftly with blood and violence, or after long and lingering pain! woe, in the dark house, in the rottenness of the grave, when the children's children shall revile the ashes of the fathers! woe, woe, woe, at the judgment, when all the persecuted and all the slain in this bloody land, and the father, the mother, and the child shall await them in a day that they cannot escape! seed of the faith, seed of the faith, ye whose hearts are moving with a power that ye know not, arise, wash your hands of this innocent blood! lift your voices, chosen ones, cry aloud, and call down a woe and a judgment with me!" having thus given vent to the flood of malignity which she mistook for inspiration, the speaker was silent. her voice was succeeded by the hysteric shrieks of several women, but the feelings of the audience generally had not been drawn onward in the current with her own. they remained stupefied, stranded as it were, in the midst of a torrent, which deafened them by its roaring, but might not move them by its violence. the clergyman, who could not hitherto have ejected the usurper of his pulpit otherwise than by bodily force, now addressed her in the tone of just indignation and legitimate authority. "get you down, woman, from the holy place which you profane," he said. "is it to the lord's house that you came to pour forth the foulness of your heart, and the inspiration of the devil? get you down, and remember that the sentence of death is on you, yea, and shall be executed, were it but for this day's work!" "i go, friend, i go, for the voice hath had its utterance," replied she, in a depressed and even mild tone. "i have done my mission unto thee and to thy people. reward me with stripes, imprisonment, or death, as ye shall be permitted." the weakness of exhausted passion caused her steps to totter as she descended the pulpit stairs. the people, in the meanwhile, were stirring to and fro on the floor of the house, whispering among themselves, and glancing toward the intruder. many of them now recognized her as the woman who had assaulted the governor with frightful language, as he passed by the window of her prison; they knew, also, that she was adjudged to suffer death, and had been preserved only by an involuntary banishment into the wilderness. the new outrage, by which she had provoked her fate, seemed to render further lenity impossible; and a gentleman in military dress, with a stout man of inferior rank, drew toward the door of the meeting-house, and awaited her approach. scarcely did her feet press the floor, however, when an unexpected scene occurred. in that moment of her peril, when every eye frowned with death, a little timid boy pressed forth, and threw his arms round his mother. "i am here, mother, it is i, and i will go with thee to prison," he exclaimed. she gazed at him with a doubtful and almost frightened expression, for she knew that the boy had been cast out to perish, and she had not hoped to see his face again. she feared, perhaps, that it was but one of the happy visions, with which her excited fancy had often deceived her, in the solitude of the desert or in prison. but when she felt his hand warm within her own, and heard his little eloquence of childish love, she began to know that she was yet a mother. "blessed art thou, my son," she sobbed. "my heart was withered; yea, dead with thee and with thy father; and now it leaps as in the first moment when i pressed thee to my bosom." she kneeled down and embraced him again and again, while the joy that could find no words expressed itself in broken accents, like the bubbles gushing up to vanish at the surface of a deep fountain. the sorrows of past years, and the darker peril that was nigh, cast not a shadow on the brightness of that fleeting moment. soon, however, the spectators saw a change upon her face, as the consciousness of her sad estate returned, and grief supplied the fount of tears which joy had opened. by the words she uttered, it would seem that the indulgence of natural love had given her mind a momentary sense of its errors, and made her know how far she had strayed from duty, in following the dictates of a wild fanaticism. "in a doleful hour art thou returned to me, poor boy," she said, "for thy mother's path has gone darkening onward, till now the end is death. son, son, i have borne thee in my arms when my limbs were tottering, and i have fed thee with the food that i was fainting for; yet i have ill performed a mother's part by thee in life, and now i leave thee no inheritance but woe and shame. thou wilt go seeking through the world, and find all hearts closed against thee, and their sweet affections turned to bitterness for my sake. my child, my child, how many a pang awaits thy gentle spirit and i the cause of all!" she hid her face on ilbrahim's head, and her long raven hair, discolored with the ashes of her mourning, fell down about him like a veil. a low and interrupted moan was the voice of her heart's anguish, and it did not fail to move the sympathies of many who mistook their involuntary virtue for a sin. sobs were audible in the female section of the house, and every man who was a father drew his hand across his eyes. tobias pearson was agitated and uneasy, but a certain feeling like the consciousness of guilt oppressed him, so that he could not go forth and offer himself as the protector of the child. dorothy, however, had watched her husband's eye. her mind was free from the influence that had begun to work on his, and she drew near the quaker woman, and addressed her in the hearing of all the congregation. "stranger, trust this boy to me, and i will be his mother," she said, taking ilbrahim's hand. "providence has signally marked out my husband to protect him, and he has fed at our table and lodged under our roof, now many days, till our hearts have grown very strongly unto him. leave the tender child with us, and be at ease concerning his welfare." the quaker rose from the ground, but drew the boy closer to her, while she gazed earnestly in dorothy's face. her mild, but saddened features, and neat matronly attire harmonized together, and were like a verse of fireside poetry. her very aspect proved that she was blameless, so far as mortal could be so, in respect to god and man; while the enthusiast, in her robe of sackcloth and girdle of knotted cord, had as evidently violated the duties of the present life and the future, by fixing her attention wholly on the latter. the two females, as they held each a hand of ilbrahim, formed a practical allegory; it was rational piety and unbridled fanaticism contending for the empire of a young heart. "thou art not of our people," said the quaker, mournfully. "no, we are not of your people," replied dorothy, with mildness, "but we are christians, looking upward to the same heaven with you. doubt not that your boy shall meet you there, if there be a blessing on our tender and prayerful guidance of him. thither, i trust, my own children have gone before me, for i also have been a mother; i am no longer so," she added, in a faltering tone, "and your son will have all my care." "but will ye lead him in the path which his parents have trodden?" demanded the quaker. "can ye teach him the enlightened faith which his father has died for, and for which i, even i, am soon to become an unworthy martyr? the boy has been baptized in blood; will ye keep the mark fresh and ruddy upon his forehead?" "i will not deceive you," answered dorothy. "if your child become our child, we must breed him up in the instruction which heaven has imparted to us; we must pray for him the prayers of our own faith; we must do toward him according to the dictates of our own consciences, and not of yours. were we to act otherwise, we should abuse your trust, even in complying with your wishes." the mother looked down upon her boy with a troubled countenance, and then turned her eyes upward to heaven. she seemed to pray internally, and the contention of her soul was evident. "friend," she said at length to dorothy, "i doubt not that my son shall receive all earthly tenderness at thy hands. nay, i will believe that even thy imperfect lights may guide him to a better world; for surely thou art on the path thither. but thou hast spoken of a husband. doth he stand here among this multitude of people? let him come forth, for i must know to whom i commit this most precious trust." she turned her face upon the male auditors, and after a momentary delay, tobias pearson came forth from among them. the quaker saw the dress which marked his military rank, and shook her head; but then she noted the hesitating air, the eyes that struggled with her own, and were vanquished; the color that went and came, and could find no resting-place. as she gazed, an unmirthful smile spread over her features, like sunshine that grows melancholy in some desolate spot. her lips moved inaudibly, but at length she spake. "i hear it, i hear it. the voice speaketh within me and saith, 'leave thy child, catharine, for his place is here, and go hence, for i have other work for thee. break the bonds of natural affection, martyr thy love, and know that in all these things eternal wisdom hath its ends.' i go, friends, i go. take ye my boy, my precious jewel. i go hence, trusting that all shall be well, and that even for his infant hands there is a labor in the vineyard." she knelt down and whispered to ilbrahim, who at first struggled and clung to his mother, with sobs and tears, but remained passive when she had kissed his cheek and arisen from the ground. having held her hands over his head in mental prayer, she was ready to depart. "farewell, friends in mine extremity," she said to pearson and his wife; "the good deed ye have done me is a treasure laid up in heaven, to be returned a thousand-fold hereafter. and farewell ye, mine enemies, to whom it is not permitted to harm so much as a hair of my head, nor to stay my footsteps even for a moment. the day is coming when ye shall call upon me to witness for ye to this one sin uncommitted, and i will rise up and answer." she turned her steps toward the door, and the men, who had stationed themselves to guard it, withdrew, and suffered her to pass. a general sentiment of pity overcame the virulence of religious hatred. sanctified by her love and her affliction, she went forth, and all the people gazed after her till she had journeyed up the hill, and was lost behind its brow. she went, the apostle of her own unquiet heart, to renew the wanderings of past years. for her voice had been already heard in many lands of christendom; and she had pined in the cells of a catholic inquisition before she felt the lash and lay in the dungeons of the puritans. her mission had extended also to the followers of the prophet, and from them she had received the courtesy and kindness which all the contending sects of our purer religion united to deny her. her husband and herself had resided many months in turkey, where even the sultan's countenance was gracious to them; in that pagan land, too, was ilbrahim's birthplace, and his oriental name was a mark of gratitude for the good deeds of an unbeliever. * * * * * when pearson and his wife had thus acquired all the rights over ilbrahim that could be delegated, their affection for him became, like the memory of their native land, or their mild sorrow for the dead, a piece of the immovable furniture of their hearts. the boy, also, after a week or two of mental disquiet, began to gratify his protectors, by many inadvertent proofs that he considered them as parents, and their house as home. before the winter snows were melted, the persecuted infant, the little wanderer from a remote and heathen country, seemed native in the new england cottage, and inseparable from the warmth and security of its hearth. under the influence of kind treatment, and in the consciousness that he was loved, ilbrahim's demeanor lost a premature manliness which had resulted from his earlier situation; he became more childlike, and his natural character displayed itself with freedom. it was in many respects a beautiful one, yet the disordered imaginations of both his father and mother had perhaps propagated a certain unhealthiness in the mind of the boy. in his general state, ilbrahim would derive enjoyment from the most trifling events, and from every object about him; he seemed to discover rich treasures of happiness, by a faculty analogous to that of the witch-hazel, which points to hidden gold where all is barren to the eye. his airy gayety, coming to him from a thousand sources, communicated itself to the family, and ilbrahim was like a domesticated sunbeam, brightening moody countenances, and chasing away the gloom from the dark corners of the cottage. on the other hand, as the susceptibility of pleasure is also that of pain, the exuberant cheerfulness of the boy's prevailing temper sometimes yielded to moments of deep depression. his sorrows could not always be followed up to their original source, but most frequently they appeared to flow, though ilbrahim was young to be sad for such a cause, from wounded love. the flightiness of his mirth rendered him often guilty of offences against the decorum of a puritan household, and on these occasions he did not invariably escape rebuke. but the slightest word of real bitterness, which he was infallible in distinguishing from pretended anger, seemed to sink into his heart and poison all his enjoyments, till he became sensible that he was entirely forgiven. of the malice which generally accompanies a superfluity of sensitiveness, ilbrahim was altogether destitute; when trodden upon, he would not turn; when wounded, he could but die. his mind was wanting in the stamina for self-support; it was a plant that would twine beautifully round something stronger than itself, but if repulsed, or torn away, it had no choice but to wither on the ground. dorothy's acuteness taught her that severity would crush the spirit of the child, and she nurtured him with the gentle care of one who handles a butterfly. her husband manifested an equal affection, although it grew daily less productive of familiar caresses. the feelings of the neighboring people, in regard to the quaker infant and his protectors, had not undergone a favorable change, in spite of the momentary triumph which the desolate mother had obtained over their sympathies. the scorn and bitterness, of which he was the object, were very grievous to ilbrahim, especially when any circumstance made him sensible that the children, his equals in age, partook of the enmity of their parents. his tender and social nature had already overflowed in attachments to everything about him, and still there was a residue of unappropriated love, which he yearned to bestow upon the little ones who were taught to hate him. as the warm days of spring came on, ilbrahim was accustomed to remain for hours silent and inactive within hearing of the children's voices at their play; yet, with his usual delicacy of feeling, he avoided their notice, and would flee and hide himself from the smallest individual among them. chance, however, at length seemed to open a medium of communication between his heart and theirs; it was by means of a boy about two years older than ilbrahim, who was injured by a fall from a tree in the vicinity of pearson's habitation. as the sufferer's own home was at some distance, dorothy willingly received him under her roof, and became his tender and careful nurse. ilbrahim was the unconscious possessor of much skill in physiognomy, and it would have deterred him, in other circumstances, from attempting to make a friend of this boy. the countenance of the latter immediately impressed a beholder disagreeably, but it required some examination to discover that the cause was a very slight distortion of the mouth, and the irregular, broken line and near approach of the eyebrows. analogous, perhaps, to these trifling deformities was an almost imperceptible twist of every joint, and the uneven prominence of the breast; forming a body, regular in its general outline, but faulty in almost all its details. the disposition of the boy was sullen and reserved, and the village schoolmaster stigmatized him as obtuse in intellect; although, at a later period of life, he evinced ambition and very peculiar talents. but whatever might be his personal or moral irregularities, ilbrahim's heart seized upon, and clung to him, from the moment that he was brought wounded into the cottage; the child of persecution seemed to compare his own fate with that of the sufferer, and to feel that even different modes of misfortune had created a sort of relationship between them. food, rest, and the fresh air, for which he languished, were neglected; he nestled continually by the bedside of the little stranger, and, with a fond jealousy, endeavored to be the medium of all the cares that were bestowed upon him. as the boy became convalescent, ilbrahim contrived games suitable to his situation, or amused him by a faculty which he had perhaps breathed in with the air of his barbaric birthplace. it was that of reciting imaginary adventures, on the spur of the moment, and apparently in inexhaustible succession. his tales were of course monstrous, disjointed, and without aim; but they were curious on account of a vein of human tenderness which ran through them all, and was like a sweet, familiar face, encountered in the midst of wild and unearthly scenery. the auditor paid much attention to these romances, and sometimes interrupted them by brief remarks upon the incidents, displaying shrewdness above his years, mingled with a moral obliquity which grated very harshly against ilbrahim's instinctive rectitude. nothing, however, could arrest the progress of the latter's affection, and there were many proofs that it met with a response from the dark and stubborn nature on which it was lavished. the boy's parents at length removed him, to complete his cure under their own roof. ilbrahim did not visit his new friend after his departure; but he made anxious and continual inquiries respecting him, and informed himself of the day when he was to reappear among his playmates. on a pleasant summer afternoon, the children of the neighborhood had assembled in the little forest-crowned amphitheatre behind the meeting-house, and the recovering invalid was there, leaning on a staff. the glee of a score of untainted bosoms was heard in light and airy voices, which danced among the trees like sunshine become audible; the grown men of this weary world, as they journeyed by the spot, marvelled why life, beginning in such brightness, should proceed in gloom; and their hearts, or their imaginations, answered them and said, that the bliss of childhood gushes from its innocence. but it happened that an unexpected addition was made to the heavenly little band. it was ilbrahim, who came toward the children with a look of sweet confidence on his fair and spiritual face, as if, having manifested his love to one of them, he had no longer to fear a repulse from their society. a hush came over their mirth the moment they beheld him, and they stood whispering to each other while he drew nigh; but, all at once, the devil of their fathers entered into the unbreeched fanatics, and sending up a fierce, shrill cry, they rushed upon the poor quaker child. in an instant, he was the centre of a brood of baby-fiends, who lifted sticks against him, pelted him with stones, and displayed an instinct of destruction far more loathsome than the blood-thirstiness of manhood. the invalid, in the meanwhile, stood apart from the tumult, crying out with a loud voice, "fear not, ilbrahim, come hither and take my hand"; and his unhappy friend endeavored to obey him. after watching the victim's struggling approach with a calm smile and unabashed eye, the foul-hearted little villain lifted his staff, and struck ilbrahim on the mouth, so forcibly that the blood issued in a stream. the poor child's arms had been raised to guard his head from the storm of blows; but now he dropped them at once. his persecutors beat him down, trampled upon him, dragged him by his long, fair locks, and ilbrahim was on the point of becoming as veritable a martyr as ever entered bleeding into heaven. the uproar, however, attracted the notice of a few neighbors, who put themselves to the trouble of rescuing the little heretic, and of conveying him to pearson's door. ilbrahim's bodily harm was severe, but long and careful nursing accomplished his recovery; the injury done to his sensitive spirit was more serious, though not so visible. its signs were principally of a negative character, and to be discovered only by those who had previously known him. his gait was thenceforth slow, even, and unvaried by the sudden bursts of sprightlier motion, which had once corresponded to his overflowing gladness; his countenance was heavier, and its former play of expression, the dance of sunshine reflected from moving water, was destroyed by the cloud over his existence; his notice was attracted in a far less degree by passing events, and he appeared to find greater difficulty in comprehending what was new to him, than at a happier period. a stranger, founding his judgment upon these circumstances, would have said that the dulness of the child's intellect widely contradicted the promise of his features; but the secret was in the direction of ilbrahim's thoughts, which were brooding within him when they should naturally have been wandering abroad. an attempt of dorothy to revive his former sportiveness was the single occasion on which his quiet demeanor yielded to a violent display of grief; he burst into passionate weeping, and ran and hid himself, for his heart had become so miserably sore that even the hand of kindness tortured it like fire. sometimes, at night and probably in his dreams, he was heard to cry, "mother! mother!" as if her place, which a stranger had supplied while ilbrahim was happy, admitted of no substitute in his extreme affliction. perhaps, among the many life-weary wretches then upon the earth, there was not one who combined innocence and misery like this poor, broken-hearted infant, so soon the victim of his own heavenly nature. while this melancholy change had taken place in ilbrahim, one of an earlier origin and of different character had come to its perfection in his adopted father. the incident with which this tale commences found pearson in a state of religious dulness, yet mentally disquieted, and longing for a more fervid faith than he possessed. the first effect of his kindness to ilbrahim was to produce a softened feeling, and incipient love for the child's whole sect; but joined to this, and resulting perhaps from self-suspicion, was a proud and ostentatious contempt of their tenets and practical extravagances. in the course of much thought, however, for the subject struggled irresistibly into his mind, the foolishness of the doctrine began to be less evident, and the points which had particularly offended his reason assumed another aspect, or vanished entirely away. the work within him appeared to go on even while he slept, and that which had been a doubt, when he laid down to rest, would often hold the place of a truth, confirmed by some forgotten demonstration, when he recalled his thoughts in the morning. but while he was thus becoming assimilated to the enthusiasts, his contempt, in no wise decreasing toward them, grew very fierce against himself; he imagined, also, that every face of his acquaintance wore a sneer, and that every word addressed to him was a gibe. such was his state of mind at the period of ilbrahim's misfortune; and the emotions consequent upon that event completed the change, of which the child had been the original instrument. in the meantime, neither the fierceness of the persecutors, nor the infatuation of their victims, had decreased. the dungeons were never empty; the streets of almost every village echoed daily with a lash; the life of a woman, whose mild and christian spirit no cruelty could imbitter, had been sacrificed; and more innocent blood was yet to pollute the hands that were so often raised in prayer. early after the restoration, the english quakers represented to charles ii. that a "vein of blood was open in his dominions"; but though the displeasure of the voluptuous king was roused, his interference was not prompt. and now the tale must stride forward over many months, leaving pearson to encounter ignominy and misfortune; his wife to a firm endurance of a thousand sorrows; poor ilbrahim to pine and droop like a cankered rosebud; his mother to wander on a mistaken errand, neglectful of the holiest trust which can be committed to a woman. * * * * * a winter evening, a night of storm, had darkened over pearson's habitation, and there were no cheerful faces to drive the gloom from his broad hearth. the fire, it is true, sent forth a glowing heat and a ruddy light, and large logs, dripping with half-melted snow, lay ready to be cast upon the embers. but the apartment was saddened in its aspect by the absence of much of the homely wealth which had once adorned it; for the exaction of repeated fines, and his own neglect of temporal affairs, had greatly impoverished the owner. and with the furniture of peace, the implements of war had likewise disappeared; the sword was broken, the helm and cuirass were cast away forever; the soldier had done with battles, and might not lift so much as his naked hand to guard his head. but the holy book remained, and the table on which it rested was drawn before the fire, while two of the persecuted sect sought comfort from its pages. he who listened, while the other read, was the master of the house, now emaciated in form, and altered as to the expression and healthiness of his countenance; for his mind had dwelt too long among visionary thoughts, and his body had been worn by imprisonment and stripes. the hale and weather-beaten old man, who sat beside him, had sustained less injury from a far longer course of the same mode of life. in person he was tall and dignified, and, which alone would have made him hateful to the puritans, his gray locks fell from beneath the broad-brimmed hat, and rested on his shoulders. as the old man read the sacred page, the snow drifted against the windows, or eddied in at the crevices of the door, while a blast kept laughing in the chimney, and the blaze leaped fiercely up to seek it. and sometimes, when the wind struck the hill at a certain angle, and swept down by the cottage across the wintry plain, its voice was the most doleful that can be conceived; it came as if the past were speaking, as if the dead had contributed each a whisper, as if the desolation of ages were breathed in that one lamenting sound. the quaker at length closed the book, retaining however his hand between the pages which he had been reading, while he looked steadfastly at pearson. the attitude and features of the latter might have indicated the endurance of bodily pain; he leaned his forehead on his hands, his teeth were firmly closed, and his frame was tremulous at intervals with a nervous agitation. "friend tobias," inquired the old man, compassionately, "hast thou found no comfort in these many blessed passages of scripture?" "thy voice has fallen on my ear like a sound afar off and indistinct," replied pearson, without lifting his eyes. "yea, and when i have hearkened carefully, the words seemed cold and lifeless, and intended for another and a lesser grief than mine. remove the book," he added, in a tone of sullen bitterness. "i have no part in its consolations, and they do but fret my sorrow the more." "nay, feeble brother, be not as one who hath never known the light," said the elder quaker, earnestly, but with mildness. "art thou he that wouldst be content to give all, and endure all, for conscience' sake; desiring even peculiar trials, that thy faith might be purified, and thy heart weaned from worldly desires? and wilt thou sink beneath an affliction which happens alike to them that have their portion here below, and to them that lay up treasure in heaven? faint not, for thy burden is yet light." "it is heavy! it is heavier than i can bear!" exclaimed pearson, with the impatience of a variable spirit. "from my youth upward i have been a man marked out for wrath; and year by year, yea, day after day, i have endured sorrows, such as others know not in their lifetime. and now i speak not of the love that has been turned to hatred, the honor to ignominy, the ease and plentifulness of all things to danger, want, and nakedness. all this i could have borne, and counted myself blessed. but when my heart was desolate with many losses, i fixed it upon the child of a stranger, and he became dearer to me than all my buried ones; and now he too must die, as if my love were poison. verily, i am an accursed man, and i will lay me down in the dust, and lift up my head no more." "thou sinnest, brother, but it is not for me to rebuke thee; for i also have had my hours of darkness, wherein i have murmured against the cross," said the old quaker. he continued, perhaps in the hope of distracting his companion's thoughts from his own sorrows. "even of late was the light obscured within me, when the men of blood had banished me on pain of death, and the constables led me onward from village to village, toward the wilderness. a strong and cruel hand was wielding the knotted cords; they sunk deep into the flesh, and thou mightst have tracked every reel and totter of my footsteps by the blood that followed. as we went on--" "have i not borne all this; and have i murmured?" interrupted pearson, impatiently. "nay, friend, but hear me," continued the other. "as we journeyed on, night darkened on our path, so that no man could see the rage of the persecutors, or the constancy of my endurance, though heaven forbid that i should glory therein. the lights began to glimmer in the cottage windows, and i could discern the inmates as they gathered in comfort and security, every man with his wife and children by their own evening hearth. at length we came to a tract of fertile land; in the dim light, the forest was not visible around it; and behold! there was a straw-thatched dwelling, which bore the very aspect of my home, far over the wild ocean, far in our own england. then came bitter thoughts upon me; yea, remembrances that were like death to my soul. the happiness of my early days was painted to me; the disquiet of my manhood, the altered faith of my declining years. i remembered how i had been moved to go forth a wanderer, when my daughter, the youngest, the dearest of my flock, lay on her dying bed, and--" "couldst thou obey the command at such a moment?" exclaimed pearson, shuddering. "yea, yea," replied the old man, hurriedly. "i was kneeling by her bedside when the voice spoke loud within me; but immediately i rose, and took my staff, and gat me gone. o, that it were permitted me to forget her woful look, when i thus withdrew my arm, and left her journeying through the dark valley alone! for her soul was faint, and she had leaned upon my prayers. now in that night of horror i was assailed by the thought that i had been an erring christian, and a cruel parent; yea, even my daughter, with her pale, dying features, seemed to stand by me and whisper, 'father, you are deceived; go home and shelter your gray head.' o thou, to whom i have looked in my furthest wanderings," continued the quaker, raising his agitated eyes to heaven, "inflict not upon the bloodiest of our persecutors the unmitigated agony of my soul, when i believed that all i had done and suffered for thee was at the instigation of a mocking fiend! but i yielded not; i knelt down and wrestled with the tempter, while the scourge bit more fiercely into the flesh. my prayer was heard, and i went on in peace and joy toward the wilderness." the old man, though his fanaticism had generally all the calmness of reason, was deeply moved while reciting this tale; and his unwonted emotion seemed to rebuke and keep down that of his companion. they sat in silence, with their faces to the fire, imagining perhaps, in its red embers, new scenes of persecution yet to be encountered. the snow still drifted hard against the windows, and sometimes, as the blaze of the logs had gradually sunk, came down the spacious chimney and hissed upon the hearth. a cautious footstep might now and then be heard in a neighboring apartment, and the sound invariably drew the eyes of both quakers to the door which led thither. when a fierce and riotous gust of wind had led his thoughts, by a natural association, to homeless travellers on such a night, pearson resumed the conversation. "i have well-nigh sunk under my own share of this trial," observed he, sighing heavily; "yet i would that it might be doubled to me, if so the child's mother could be spared. her wounds have been deep and many, but this will be the sorest of all." "fear not for catharine," replied the old quaker, "for i know that valiant woman, and have seen how she can bear the cross. a mother's heart, indeed, is strong in her, and may seem to contend mightily with her faith; but soon she will stand up and give thanks that her son has been thus early an accepted sacrifice. the boy hath done his work, and she will feel that he is taken hence in kindness both to him and her. blessed, blessed are they that with so little suffering can enter into peace!" the fitful rush of the wind was now disturbed by a portentous sound; it was a quick and heavy knocking at the outer door. pearson's wan countenance grew paler, for many a visit of persecution had taught him what to dread; the old man, on the other hand, stood up erect, and his glance was firm as that of the tried soldier who awaits his enemy. "the men of blood have come to seek me," he observed, with calmness. "they have heard how i was moved to return from banishment; and now am i to be led to prison, and thence to death. it is an end i have long looked for. i will open unto them, lest they say, 'lo, he feareth!'" "nay, i will present myself before them," said pearson, with recovered fortitude. "it may be that they seek me alone, and know not that thou abidest with me." "let us go boldly, both one and the other," rejoined his companion. "it is not fitting that thou or i should shrink." they therefore proceeded through the entry to the door, which they opened, bidding the applicant, "come in, in god's name!" a furious blast of wind drove the storm into their faces, and extinguished the lamp; they had barely time to discern a figure, so white from head to foot with the drifted snow, that it seemed like winter's self, come in human shape to seek refuge from its own desolation. "enter, friend, and do thy errand, be it what it may," said pearson. "it must needs be pressing, since thou comest on such a bitter night." "peace be with this household," said the stranger, when they stood on the floor of the inner apartment. pearson started, the elder quaker stirred the slumbering embers of the fire, till they sent up a clear and lofty blaze; it was a female voice that had spoken; it was a female form that shone out, cold and wintry, in that comfortable light. "catharine, blessed woman," exclaimed the old man, "art thou come to this darkened land again? art thou come to bear a valiant testimony as in former years? the scourge hath not prevailed against thee, and from the dungeon hast thou come forth triumphant; but strengthen, strengthen now thy heart, catharine, for heaven will prove thee yet this once, ere thou go to thy reward." "rejoice, friends!" she replied. "thou who hast long been of our people, and thou whom a little child hath led to us, rejoice! lo! i come, the messenger of glad tidings, for the day of persecution is overpast. the heart of the king, even charles, hath been moved in gentleness toward us, and he hath sent forth his letters to stay the hands of the men of blood. a ship's company of our friends hath arrived at yonder town, and i also sailed joyfully among them." as catharine spoke, her eyes were roaming about the room, in search of him for whose sake security was dear to her. pearson made a silent appeal to the old man, nor did the latter shrink from the painful task assigned him. "sister," he began, in a softened yet perfectly calm tone, "thou tellest us of his love, manifested in temporal good; and now must we speak to thee of that selfsame love, displayed in chastenings. hitherto, catharine, thou hast been as one journeying in a darksome and difficult path, and leading an infant by the hand; fain wouldst thou have looked heavenward continually, but still the cares of that little child have drawn thine eyes and thy affections to the earth. sister! go on rejoicing, for his tottering footsteps shall impede thine own no more." but the unhappy mother was not thus to be consoled; she shook like a leaf, she turned white as the very snow that hung drifted into her hair. the firm old man extended his hand and held her up, keeping his eye upon hers, as if to repress any outbreak of passion. "i am a woman, i am but a woman; will he try me above my strength?" said catharine very quickly, and almost in a whisper. "i have been wounded sore; i have suffered much; many things in the body, many in the mind; crucified in myself, and in them that were dearest to me. surely," added she, with a long shudder, "he hath spared me in this one thing." she broke forth with sudden and irrepressible violence, "tell me, man of cold heart, what has god done to me? hath he cast me down, never to rise again? hath he crushed my very heart in his hand? and thou, to whom i committed my child, how hast thou fulfilled thy trust? give me back the boy, well, sound, alive, alive; or earth and heaven shall avenge me!" the agonized shriek of catharine was answered by the faint, the very faint voice of a child. on this day it had become evident to pearson, to his aged guest, and to dorothy that ilbrahim's brief and troubled pilgrimage drew near its close. the two former would willingly have remained by him, to make use of the prayers and pious discourses which they deemed appropriate to the time, and which, if they be impotent as to the departing traveller's reception in the world whither it goes, may at least sustain him in bidding adieu to earth. but though ilbrahim uttered no complaint, he was disturbed by the faces that looked upon him; so that dorothy's entreaties, and their own conviction that the child's feet might tread heaven's pavement and not soil it, had induced the two quakers to remove. ilbrahim then closed his eyes and grew calm, and, except for now and then a kind and low word to his nurse, might have been thought to slumber. as nightfall came on, however, and the storm began to rise, something seemed to trouble the repose of the boy's mind, and to render his sense of hearing active and acute. if a passing wind lingered to shake the casement, he strove to turn his head toward it; if the door jarred to and fro upon its hinges, he looked long and anxiously thitherward; if the heavy voice of the old man, as he read the scriptures, rose but a little higher, the child almost held his dying breath to listen; if a snowdrift swept by the cottage, with a sound like the trailing of a garment, ilbrahim seemed to watch that some visitant should enter. but, after a little time, he relinquished whatever secret hope had agitated him, and, with one low, complaining whisper, turned his cheek upon the pillow. he then addressed dorothy with his usual sweetness, and besought her to draw near him; she did so, and ilbrahim took her hand in both of his, grasping it with a gentle pressure, as if to assure himself that he retained it. at intervals, and without disturbing the repose of his countenance, a very faint trembling passed over him from head to foot, as if a mild but somewhat cool wind had breathed upon him, and made him shiver. as the boy thus led her by the hand, in his quiet progress over the borders of eternity, dorothy almost imagined that she could discern the near, though dim delightfulness of the home he was about to reach; she would not have enticed the little wanderer back, though she bemoaned herself that she must leave him and return. but just when ilbrahim's feet were pressing on the soil of paradise, he heard a voice behind him, and it recalled him a few, few paces of the weary path which he had travelled. as dorothy looked upon his features, she perceived that their placid expression was again disturbed; her own thoughts had been so wrapped in him, that all sounds of the storm, and of human speech, were lost to her; but when catharine's shriek pierced through the room, the boy strove to raise himself. "friend, she is come! open unto her!" cried he. in a moment, his mother was kneeling by the bedside; she drew ilbrahim to her bosom, and he nestled there, with no violence of joy, but contentedly, as if he were hushing himself to sleep. he looked into her face, and, reading its agony, said, with feeble earnestness, "mourn not, dearest mother. i am happy now." and with these words, the gentle boy was dead. * * * * * the king's mandate to stay the new england persecutors was effectual in preventing further martyrdoms; but the colonial authorities, trusting in the remoteness of their situation, and perhaps in the supposed instability of the royal government, shortly renewed their severities in all other respects. catharine's fanaticism had become wilder by the sundering of all human ties; and wherever a scourge was lifted, there was she to receive the blow; and whenever a dungeon was unbarred, thither she came, to cast herself upon the floor. but in process of time, a more christian spirit--a spirit of forbearance, though not of cordiality or approbation--began to pervade the land in regard to the persecuted sect. and then, when the rigid old pilgrims eyed her rather in pity than in wrath; when the matrons fed her with the fragments of their children's food, and offered her a lodging on a hard and lowly bed; when no little crowd of schoolboys left their sports to cast stones after the roving enthusiast--then did catharine return to pearson's dwelling, and made that her home. as if ilbrahim's sweetness yet lingered round his ashes, as if his gentle spirit came down from heaven to teach his parent a true religion, her fierce and vindictive nature was softened by the same griefs which had once irritated it. when the course of years had made the features of the unobtrusive mourner familiar in the settlement, she became a subject of not deep, but general interest; a being on whom the otherwise superfluous sympathies of all might be bestowed. every one spoke of her with that degree of pity which it is pleasant to experience, every one was ready to do her the little kindnesses, which are not costly, yet manifest good-will; and when at last she died, a long train of her once bitter persecutors followed her, with decent sadness and tears that were not painful, to her place by ilbrahim's green and sunken grave. the angel by hans christian andersen whenever a good child dies, an angel from heaven comes down to earth, and takes the dead child in his arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies away over all the places the child has loved, and picks quite a handful of flowers, which he carries up to the almighty, that they may bloom in heaven more brightly than on earth. and the father presses all the flowers to his heart; but he kisses the flower that pleases him best, and the flower is then endowed with a voice, and can join in the great chorus of praise! "see"--this is what an angel said, as he carried a dead child up to heaven, and the child heard, as if in a dream, and they went on over the regions of home where the little child had played, and they came through gardens with beautiful flowers--"which of these shall we take with us to plant in heaven?" asked the angel. now there stood near them a slender, beautiful rose bush; but a wicked hand had broken the stem, so that all the branches, covered with half-opened buds, were hanging drooping around, quite withered. "the poor rose bush!" said the child. "take it, that it may bloom up yonder." and the angel took it, and kissed the child, and the little one half opened his eyes. they plucked some of the rich flowers, but also took with them the despised buttercup and the wild pansy. "now we have flowers," said the child. and the angel nodded, but he did not yet fly upward to heaven. it was night and quite silent. they remained in the great city; they floated about there in a small street, where lay whole heaps of straw, ashes, and sweepings, for it had been removal-day. there lay fragments of plates, bits of plaster, rags, and old hats, and all this did not look well. and the angel pointed amid all this confusion to a few fragments of a flower-pot, and to a lump of earth which had fallen out, and which was kept together by the roots of a great dried field flower, which was of no use, and had therefore been thrown out into the street. "we will take that with us," said the angel. "i will tell you why, as we fly onward. "down yonder in the narrow lane, in the low cellar, lived a poor sick boy; from his childhood he had been bedridden. when he was at his best he could go up and down the room a few times, leaning on crutches; that was the utmost he could do. for a few days in summer the sunbeams would penetrate for a few hours to the ground of the cellar, and when the poor boy sat there and the sun shone on him, and he looked at the red blood in his three fingers, as he held them up before his face, he would say, 'yes, to-day he has been out.' he knew the forest with its beautiful vernal green only from the fact that the neighbor's son brought him the first green branch of a beech-tree, and he held that up over his head, and dreamed he was in the beech wood where the sun shone and the birds sang. on a spring day the neighbor's boy also brought him field flowers, and among these was, by chance, one to which the root was hanging; and so it was planted in a flower-pot, and placed by the bed, close to the window. and the flower had been planted by a fortunate hand; and it grew, threw out new shoots, and bore flowers every year. it became as a splendid flower-garden to the sickly boy--his little treasure here on earth. he watered it, and tended it, and took care that it had the benefit of every ray of sunlight, down to the last that struggled in through the narrow window; and the flower itself was woven into his dreams, for it grew for him and gladdened his eyes, and spread its fragrance about him; and toward it he turned in death when the father called him. he has now been with the almighty for a year; for a year the flower has stood forgotten in the window, and is withered; and thus, at the removal, it has been thrown out into the dust of the street. and this is the flower, the poor withered flower, which we have taken into our nosegay; for this flower has given more joy than the richest flower in a queen's garden!" "but how do you know all this?" asked the child which the angel was carrying to heaven. "i know it," said the angel, "for i myself was that little boy who walked on crutches! i know my flower well!" and the child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious, happy face of the angel; and at the same moment they entered the regions where there is peace and joy. and the father pressed the dead child to his bosom, and then it received wings like the angel, and flew hand in hand with him. and the almighty pressed all the flowers to his heart; but he kissed the dry withered field flower, and it received a voice and sang with all the angels hovering around--some near, and some in wider circles, and some in infinite distance, but all equally happy. and they all sang, little and great, the good happy child, and the poor field flower that had lain there withered, thrown among the dust, in the rubbish of the removal-day, in the narrow, dark lane. the red shoes by hans christian andersen there once was a little girl; a very nice pretty little girl. but in summer she had to go barefoot, because she was poor, and in winter she wore thick wooden shoes, so that her little instep became quite red, altogether red. in the middle of the village lived an old shoemaker's wife; she sat, and sewed, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes, of old strips of red cloth; they were clumsy enough, but well meant, and the little girl was to have them. the little girl's name was karen. on the day when her mother was buried she received the red shoes and wore them for the first time. they were certainly not suited for mourning; but she had no others, and therefore thrust her little bare feet into them and walked behind the plain deal coffin. suddenly a great carriage came by, and in the carriage sat an old lady; she looked at the little girl and felt pity for her and said to the clergyman: "give me the little girl and i will provide for her." karen thought this was for the sake of the shoes; but the old lady declared they were hideous; and they were burned. but karen herself was clothed neatly and properly: she was taught to read and to sew, and the people said she was agreeable. but her mirror said, "you are much more than agreeable; you are beautiful." once the queen travelled through the country, and had her little daughter with her; and the daughter was a princess. and the people flocked toward the castle, and karen too was among them; and the little princess stood in a fine white dress at a window, and let herself be gazed at. she had neither train nor golden crown, but she wore splendid red morocco shoes; they were certainly far handsomer than those the shoemaker's wife had made for little karen. nothing in the world can compare with red shoes! now karen was old enough to be confirmed: new clothes were made for her, and she was to have new shoes. the rich shoemaker in the town took the measure of her little feet; this was done in his own house, in his little room, and there stood great glass cases with neat shoes and shining boots. it had quite a charming appearance, but the old lady could not see well, and therefore took no pleasure in it. among the shoes stood a red pair, just like those which the princess had worn. how beautiful they were! the shoemaker also said they had been made for a count's child, but they had not fitted. "that must be patent leather," observed the old lady, "the shoes shine so!" "yes, they shine!" replied karen; and they fitted her, and were bought. but the old lady did not know that they were red; for she would never have allowed karen to go to the confirmation in red shoes; and that is what karen did. every one was looking at her shoes. and when she went across the church porch, toward the door of the choir, it seemed to her as if the old pictures on the tombstones, the portraits of clergymen and clergymen's wives, in their stiff collars and long black garments, fixed their eyes upon her red shoes. and she thought of her shoes only, when the priest laid his hand upon her head and spoke holy words. and the organ pealed solemnly, the children sang with their fresh sweet voices, and the old preceptor sang too; but karen thought only of her red shoes. in the afternoon the old lady was informed by everyone that the shoes were red; and she said it was naughty and unsuitable, and that when karen went to church in future, she should always go in black shoes, even if they were old. next sunday was sacrament sunday. and karen looked at the black shoes, and looked at the red ones--looked at them again--and put on the red ones. the sun shone gloriously; karen and the old lady went along the footpath through the fields, and it was rather dusty. by the church door stood an old invalid soldier with a crutch and a long beard; the beard was rather red than white, for it was red altogether; and he bowed down almost to the ground, and asked the old lady if he might dust her shoes. and karen also stretched out her little foot. "look, what pretty dancing shoes!" said the old soldier. "fit so tightly when you dance!" and he tapped the soles with his hand. and the old lady gave the soldier an alms, and went into the church with karen. and every one in the church looked at karen's red shoes, and all the pictures looked at them. and while karen knelt in the church she only thought of her red shoes; and she forgot to sing her psalm, and forgot to say her prayer. now all the people went out of church, and the old lady stepped into her carriage. karen lifted up her foot to step in too; then the old soldier said: "look, what beautiful dancing shoes!" and karen could not resist: she was obliged to dance a few steps; and when she once began, her legs went on dancing. it was just as though the shoes had obtained power over her. she danced round the corner of the church--she could not help it; the coachman was obliged to run behind her and seize her; he lifted her into the carriage, but her feet went on dancing, so that she kicked the good old lady violently. at last they took off her shoes, and her legs became quiet. at home the shoes were put away in a cupboard; but karen could not resist looking at them. now the old lady became very ill, and it was said she would not recover. she had to be nursed, and waited on: and this was no one's duty so much as karen's. but there was to be a great ball in the town, and karen was invited. she looked at the old lady who could not recover; she looked at the red shoes, and thought there would be no harm in it. she put on the shoes, and that she might very well do; but they went to the ball and began to dance. but when she wished to go to the right hand, the shoes danced to the left, and when she wanted to go upstairs the shoes danced downward, down into the street and out at the town gate. she danced, and was obliged to dance, till she danced straight out into the dark wood. there was something glistening up among the trees, and she thought it was the moon, for she saw a face. but it was the old soldier with the red beard: he sat and nodded, and said: "look, what beautiful dancing-shoes!" then she was frightened, and wanted to throw away the red shoes; but they clung fast to her. and she tore off her stockings; but the shoes had grown fast to her feet. and she danced and was compelled to go dancing over field and meadow, in rain and sunshine, by night and by day; but it was most dreadful at night. she danced out into the open churchyard; but the dead there do not dance; they have far better things to do. she wished to sit down on the poor man's grave, where the bitter fern grows; but there was no peace nor rest for her. and when she danced toward the open church door, she saw there an angel in long white garments, with wings that reached from his shoulders to his feet; his countenance was serious and stern, and in his hand he held a sword that was broad and gleaming. "thou shalt dance!" he said--"dance on thy red shoes, till thou art pale and cold, and till thy body shrivels to a skeleton. thou shalt dance from door to door, and where proud, haughty children dwell, shalt thou knock, that they may hear thee, and be afraid of thee! thou shalt dance, dance!" "mercy!" cried karen. but she did not hear what the angel answered, for the shoes carried her away--carried her through the door on to the field, over stock and stone, and she was always obliged to dance. one morning she danced past a door which she knew well. there was a sound of psalm-singing within, and a coffin was carried out, adorned with flowers. then she knew that the old lady was dead, and she felt that she was deserted by all, and condemned by the angel of heaven. she danced, and was compelled to dance--to dance in the dark night. the shoes carried her on over thorn and brier; she scratched herself till she bled; she danced away across the heath to a little lonely house. here she knew the executioner dwelt; and she tapped with her fingers on the panes, and called: "come out, come out! i cannot come in for i must dance!" and the executioner said: "you probably don't know who i am? i cut off the bad people's heads with my axe, and mark how my axe rings!" "do not strike off my head," said karen, "for if you do i cannot repent of my sin. but strike off my feet with the red shoes!" and then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner cut off her feet with the red shoes; but the shoes danced away with the little feet over the fields and into the deep forest. and he cut her a pair of wooden feet, with crutches, and taught her a psalm, which the criminals always sing; and she kissed the hand that had held the axe, and went away across the heath. "now i have suffered pain enough for the red shoes," said she. "now i will go into the church, that they may see me." and she went quickly toward the church door, but when she came there the red shoes danced before her, so that she was frightened, and turned back. the whole week through she was sorrowful, and wept many bitter tears; but when sunday came she said: "now i have suffered and striven enough! i think that i am just as good as many of those who sit in the church and carry their heads high." and then she went boldly on; but she did not get further than the churchyard gate before she saw the red shoes dancing along before her; then she was seized with terror, and turned back, and repented of her sin right heartily. and she went to the parsonage, and begged to be taken there as a servant. she promised to be industrious, and to do all she could; she did not care for wages, and only wished to be under a roof and with good people. the clergyman's wife pitied her, and took her into her service. and she was industrious and thoughtful. silently she sat and listened when in the evening the pastor read the bible aloud. all the little ones were very fond of her; but when they spoke of dress and splendor and beauty, she would shake her head. next sunday they all went to church, and she was asked if she wished to go too, but she looked sadly, with tears in her eyes, at her crutches. and then the others went to hear god's word; but she went alone into her little room, which was only large enough to contain her bed and a chair. and here she sat with her hymn-book; and as she read it with a pious mind, the wind bore the notes of the organ over to her from the church; and she lifted up her face, wet with tears, and said: "o lord, help me!" then the sun shone so brightly; and before her stood the angel in the white garments, the same as she had seen that night at the church door. but he no longer grasped the sharp sword; he held a green branch covered with roses; and he touched the ceiling, and it rose up high, and wherever he touched it a golden star gleamed forth; and he touched the walls, and they spread forth widely, and she saw the organ which was pealing its rich sounds; and she saw the old pictures of clergymen and their wives; and the congregation sat in the decorated seats, and sang from their hymn-books. the church had come to the poor girl in her narrow room, or her chamber had become a church. she sat in the chair with the rest of the clergyman's people; and when they had finished the psalm, and looked up, they nodded and said: "that was right that you came here, karen." "it was mercy!" said she. and the organ sounded its glorious notes; and the children's voices singing in the chorus sounded sweet and lovely; the clear sunshine streamed so warm through the window upon the chair in which karen sat; and her heart became so filled with sunshine, peace, and joy, that it broke. her soul flew on the sunbeams to heaven; and there was nobody who asked after the red shoes. the lovliest rose in the world by hans christian andersen once there reigned a queen, in whose garden were found the most glorious flowers at all seasons and from all the lands in the world; but especially she loved roses, and therefore she possessed the most various kinds of this flower, from the wild dog-rose, with the apple-scented green leaves, to the most splendid provence rose. they grew against the earth walls, wound themselves round pillars and window-frames, into the passages, and all along the ceiling in all the halls. and the roses were various in fragrance, form, and color. but care and sorrow dwelt in these halls: the queen lay upon a sick-bed, and the doctors declared that she must die. "there is still one thing that can serve her," said the wisest of them. "bring her the loveliest rose in the world, the one which is the expression of the brightest and purest love; for if that is brought before her eyes ere they close, she will not die." and young and old came from every side with roses, the loveliest that bloomed in each garden; but they were not the right sort. the flower was to be brought out of the garden of love; but what rose was it there that expressed the highest and purest love? and the poets sang of the loveliest rose in the world, and each one named his own; and intelligence was sent far round the land to every heart that beat with love, to every class and condition, and to every age. "no one has till now named the flower," said the wise man. "no one has pointed out the place where it bloomed in its splendor. they are not the roses from the coffin of romeo and juliet, or from the walburg's grave, though these roses will be ever fragrant in song. they are not the roses that sprouted forth from winkelried's blood-stained lances, from the blood that flows in a sacred cause from the breast of the hero who dies for his country; though no death is sweeter than this, and no rose redder than the blood that flows then. nor is it that wondrous flower, to cherish which man devotes, in a quiet chamber, many a sleepless night, and much of his fresh life--the magic flower of science." "i know where it blooms," said a happy mother, who came with her pretty child to the bedside of the queen. "i know where the loveliest rose of the world is found! the rose that is the expression of the highest and purest love springs from the blooming cheeks of my sweet child when, strengthened by sleep, it opens its eyes and smiles at me with all its affection!" "lovely is this rose; but there is still a lovelier," said the wise man. "yes, a far lovelier one," said one of the women. "i have seen it, and a loftier, purer rose does not bloom. i saw it on the cheeks of the queen. she had taken off her golden crown, and in the long dreary night she was carrying her sick child in her arms: she wept, kissed it, and prayed for her child as a mother prays in the hour of her anguish." "holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of grief; but it is not the one we seek." "no, the loveliest rose of the world i saw at the altar of the lord," said the good old bishop. "i saw it shine as if an angel's face had appeared. the young maidens went to the lord's table, and renewed the promise made at their baptism, and roses were blushing, and pale roses shining on their fresh cheeks. a young girl stood there; she looked with all the purity and love of her young spirit up to heaven: that was the expression of the highest and purest love." "may she be blessed," said the wise man; "but not one of you has yet named to me the loveliest rose of the world." then there came into the room a child, the queen's little son. tears stood in his eyes and glistened on his cheeks; he carried a great open book, and the binding was of velvet, with great silver clasps. "mother!" cried the boy, "only hear what i have read." and the child sat by the bedside, and read from the book of him who suffered death on the cross to save men, and even those who were not yet born. "greater love there is not"-and a roseate hue spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes gleamed, for she saw that from the leaves of the book there bloomed the loveliest rose, that sprang from the blood of christ shed on the cross. "i see it!" she said: "he who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth, shall never die." a vision of the last day by hans christian andersen of all the days of our life the greatest and most solemn is the day on which we die. hast thou ever tried to realize that most sure, most portentous hour, the last hour we shall spend on earth? there was a certain man, an upholder of truth and justice, a christian man and orthodox, so the world esteemed him. and, in sooth, it may be that some good thing was found in him, since in sleep, amid the visions of the night, it pleased the father of spirits to reveal him to himself, making manifest to him what he was in truth, namely, one of those who trust in themselves that they are righteous and despise others. he went to rest, secure that his accounts were right with all men, that he had paid his dues and wrought good works that day; of the secret pride of his heart, of the harsh words that had passed his lips, he took no account at all. and so he slept, and in his sleep death stood by his bedside, a glorious angel, strong, spotless, beautiful, but unlike every other angel, stern, unsmiling, pitiless of aspect. "thine hour is come, and thou must follow me!" spake death. and death's cold finger touched the man's feet, whereupon they became like ice, then touched his forehead, then his heart. and the chain that bound the immortal soul to clay was riven asunder, and the soul was free to follow the angel of death. but during those brief seconds, while yet that awful touch thrilled through feet, and head, and heart, there passed over the dying man, as in great, heaving, ocean waves, the recollection of all that he had wrought and felt in his whole life; just as one shuddering glance into a whirlpool suffices to reveal in thought rapid as lightning, the entire unfathomable depth; just as in one momentary glance at the starry heavens we can conceive the infinite multitude of that glorious host of unknown orbs. in such a retrospect the terrified sinner shrinks back into himself, and finding there no stay by which to cling, must feel shrinking into infinite nothingness; while the devout soul raises its thoughts to the almighty, yielding itself up to him in childlike trust, and praying, "thy will be done in me!" but this man had not the childlike mind, neither did he tremble like the sinner; his thoughts were still the self-praising thoughts in which he had fallen asleep. his path, he believed, must lead straight heavenward, and mercy, the promised mercy, would open to him the gates. and, in his dream, the soul followed the angel of death, though not without first casting one wistful glance at the couch where lay, in its white shroud, the lifeless image of clay, still, as it were, bearing the impress of the soul's own individuality. and now they hovered through the air, now glided along the ground. was it a vast decorated hall they were passing through, or a forest? it seemed hard to tell; nature, it appeared, was formally set out for show, as in the artificial old french gardens, and amid its strange, carefully arranged scenes, passed and repassed troops of men and women, all clad as for a masquerade. "such is human life!" said the angel of death. the figures seemed more or less disguised; those who swept by in the glories of velvet and gold were not all among the noblest or most dignified-looking, neither were all those who wore the garb of poverty insignificant or vulgar. it was a strange masquerade! but most strange it was to see how one and all carefully concealed under their clothing something they would not have others perceive, but in vain, for each was bent upon discovering his neighbor's secret, and they tore and snatched at one another till, now here, now there, some part of an animal was revealed. in one was found the grinning head of an ape, in another the cloven foot of a goat, in a third the poison-fang of a snake, in a fourth the clammy fin of a fish. all had in them some token of the animal--the animal which is fast rooted in human nature, and which here was seen struggling to burst forth. and, however closely a man might hold his garment over it, the others would never rest till they had rent the hiding veil, and all kept crying out, "look here! look now! here he is! there she is!"--and every one mockingly laid bare his fellow's shame. "and what was the animal in me?" inquired the disembodied soul; and the angel of death pointed to a haughty form, around whose head shone a bright, widespread glory of rainbow-colored rays, but at whose heart might be seen lurking, half-hidden, the feet of the peacock; the glory was, in fact, merely the peacock's gaudy tail. and as they passed on, large, foul-looking birds shrieked out from the boughs of the trees; with clear, intelligible, though harsh, human voices they shrieked, "thou that walkest with death, dost remember me?" all the evil thoughts and desires that had nestled within him from his birth until his death now called after him, "rememberest thou me?" and the soul shuddered, recognizing the voices; it could not deny knowledge of the evil thoughts and desires that were now rising up in witness against it. "in our flesh, in our evil nature, dwelleth no good thing," cried the soul; "but, at least, thoughts never with me ripened into actions; the world has not seen the evil fruit." and the soul hurried on to get free from the accusing voices; but the great black fowls swept in circles round, and screamed out their scandalous words louder and louder, as though they would be heard all over the world. and the soul fled from them like the hunted stag, and at every step stumbled against sharp flint stones that lay in the path. "how came these sharp stones here? they look like mere withered leaves lying on the ground." "every stone is for some incautious word thou hast spoken, which lay as a stumbling-block in thy neighbor's path, which wounded thy neighbor's heart far more sorely and deeply than these sharp flints now wound thy feet." "alas! i never once thought of that," sighed the soul. and those words of the gospel rang through the air, "judge not, that ye be not judged." "we have all sinned," said the soul, recovering from its momentary self-abasement. "i have kept the law and the gospel, i have done what i could, i am not as others are!" and in his dream this man now stood at the gates of heaven, and the angel who guarded the entrance inquired, "who art thou? tell me thy faith, and show it to me in thy works." "i have faithfully kept the commandments, i have humbled myself in the eyes of the world, i have preserved myself free from the pollution of intercourse with sinners, i have hated and persecuted evil, and those who practice it, and i would do so still, yea, with fire and sword, had i the power." "then thou art one of mohammed's followers?" said the angel. "i? a mohammedan?--never!" "'he who strikes with the sword shall perish by the sword,' thus spake the son; his religion thou knowest not. it may be that thou art one of the children of israel, whose maxim is, 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'--art thou such?" "i am a christian." "i see it not in thy faith or in thine actions. the law of christ is the law of forgiveness, love, and mercy." "mercy!" the gracious echo of that sweet word thrilled through infinite space, the gates of heaven opened, and the soul hovered toward the realms of endless bliss. but the flood of light that streamed forth from within was so dazzlingly bright, so transcendently white and pure, that the soul shrank back as from a two-edged sword, and the hymns and harp-tones of angels mingled in such exquisite celestial harmony as the earthly mind has not power either to conceive or to endure. and the soul trembled and bowed itself deeper and deeper, and the heavenly light penetrated it through and through, and it felt to the quick, as it had never truly felt before, the burden of its own pride, cruelty, and sin. "what i have done of good in the world, that did i because i could not otherwise, but the evil that i did--that was of myself!" the confession was wrung from him; more and more the man felt dazzled and overpowered by the pure light of heaven; he seemed falling into a measureless abyss, the abyss of his own nakedness and unworthiness. shrunk into himself, humbled, cast out, unripe for the kingdom of heaven, shuddering at the thought of the just and holy god--hardly dared he to gasp out, "mercy!" and the face of the angel at the portal was turned toward him in softening pity. "mercy is for them who implore it, not claim it; there is mercy also for thee. turn thee, child of man, turn thee back the way thou camest to thy clayey tabernacle; in pity is it given thee to dwell in dust yet a little while. be no longer righteous in thine own eyes, copy him who with patience endured the contradiction of sinners, strive and pray that thou mayest become poor in spirit, and so mayest thou yet inherit the kingdom." "holy, loving, glorious forever shalt thou be, o, erring human spirit!"--thus rang the chorus of angels. and again overpowered by those transcendent melodies, dazzled and blinded by that excess of purest light, the soul again shrank back into itself. it seemed to be falling an infinite depth; the celestial music grew fainter and fainter, till common earthly sights and sounds dispelled the vision. the rays of the early morning sun falling full on his face, the cheerful crow of the vigilant cock, called the sleeper up to pray. inexpressibly humbled, yet thankful, he arose and knelt beside his bed. "thou, who hast shown me to myself, help me now, that i may not only do justly, but love mercy, and walk humbly with my god. thou, who hast convicted me of sin, now purify me, strengthen me, that, though ever unworthy of thy presence, i may yet, supported by thy love, dare to ascend into thine ever lasting light!" the vision was his; be the lesson, the prayer, also ours. the old gravestone by hans christian andersen in one of our small trading towns, at that time of year when folk say "the evenings grow long," a whole family was assembled together. the air was still mild and warm; the lamp was lighted, the long curtains hung down before the windows, and bright moonlight prevailed without. they were talking about a big old stone that lay down in the yard, close by the kitchen door, where the servants often placed the kitchen utensils, after they had been cleaned, to dry in the sun, and where the children were fond of playing; it was, in fact, an old gravestone. "yes," said the master of the house, "i believe it comes from the old ruined convent chapel; pulpit and gravestones, with all their epitaphs, were sold; my late father bought several of these; the others were broken into paving-stones, but this one was left unused, lying in the yard." "it is easy to know it for a gravestone," said the eldest of the children. "you can still see on it an mountain-sides and a piece of an angel, but the inscription is almost quite worn out, except the name 'preben,' and a capital 's' a little further on, and underneath it 'martha,' but it is impossible to make out any more, and that you can only read after if has been raining, or when we have washed it." "why, then, it must be the gravestone of preben swan and his wife!" exclaimed an old man, who by his age might appear the grandfather of everybody in the room. "to be sure, they were among the last that were buried in the old convent churchyard--the grand old couple! everybody knew them, everybody loved them; they were like king and queen in the town. folk said they had more than a barrelful of gold, and yet they went about simply clad, in the coarsest cloth, only their linen was always of dazzling whiteness. yes, that was a charming old pair, preben and martha. one was always so glad to see them, sitting together on the bench at the top of their stone staircase, under the old lime-tree's shade. they were so good to the poor! they feasted them, clothed them, and there was good sense and a true christian spirit in all their benevolence. "the wife died first; i remember the day quite well; i was then a little boy, and went with my father to see old preben: the old man was so grieved, he cried like a child. the corpse still lay in her bedroom, close to the chamber where we sat; she looked as if she had just fallen asleep. and the old man told my father how he should now be so lonely, and how many years, they had spent together, and how they had first made acquaintance and came to love each other. as i said before, i was a child, but it moved me strangely to listen to the old man, and watch how he grew more animated as he went on speaking, a faint color coming into his cheeks as he talked of their youthful days, how pretty she had been, how many little innocent tricks he had played, in order to meet her. and when he spoke of his wedding-day his eyes quite sparkled; he seemed to be living his happy time over again--and all the while she was lying dead in the next chamber, an old lady, and he was an old man--ah, how time passes! i was a child then, and now i am as old as preben swan. yes, time and change come to all. i remember as well as possible the funeral-day, and preben swan following the coffin. they had had their gravestone carved with names and inscriptions, all except the dates of their death, some years before; that same evening the stone was taken to the grave, and put into its place. the next year the grave had to be reopened, and old preben rejoined his wife. they did not turn out to be so rich as people had fancied, and what they did leave went to distant relations very far off. the old wooden house, with the bench at the top of the high stone staircase under the lime-tree, was ordered to be pulled down, for it was too ruinous to stand any longer. and afterward, when the convent chapel and cemetery were destroyed, the gravestone of preben and martha was sold, like others, to whomsoever chose to buy it. and so now it lies in the yard for the little ones to roll over, and to make a shelf for the kitchen pots and pans. and the paved street now covers the resting-place of old preben and his wife, and nobody thinks of them any more." and the old man who related all this shook his head sadly. "forgotten! all things are forgotten!" and the rest began to speak of other matters; but the youngest boy, a child with large, grave eyes, crept up on a chair behind the curtains, and looked out into the yard, where the moon shone brightly on the big stone that before had seemed to him flat and uninteresting enough, but now had become to him like a page of a large-sized story-book. for all that the boy had heard concerning preben and his wife, the stone seemed to contain within it; and he looked first at the stone, and then at the brilliant moon, which looked to him like a bright kind face looking down through the pure still air upon the earth. "forgotten! all shall be forgotten!" these words came to his ears from the room; but at that very moment an invisible angel kissed the boy's forehead and softly whispered, "keep the seed carefully, keep it till the time for ripening. through thee, child as thou art, shall the half-erased inscription, the crumbling gravestone, stand out in clear, legible characters for generations to come! through thee shall the old couple again walk arm-in-arm through the ancient gateways, and sit with smiling faces on the bench under the lime tree, greeting rich and poor. the good and the beautiful perish never; they live eternally in tale and song." "good-for-nothing" by hans christian andersen the sheriff stood at the open window; he wore ruffles, and a dainty breastpin decorated the front of his shirt; he was neatly shaven, and a tiny little strip of sticking-plaster covered the little cut he had given himself during the process. "well, my little man?" quoth he. the "little man" was no other than the laundress's son, who respectfully took off his cap in passing. his cap was broken in the rim, and adapted to be put into the pocket on occasion; his clothes were poor, but clean, and very neatly mended, and he wore heavy wooden shoes. he stood still when the sheriff spoke, as respectfully as though he stood before the king. "ah, you're a good boy, a well-behaved boy!" said the sheriff. "and so your mother is washing down at the river; _she_ isn't good for much. and you're going to her, i see. ah, poor child!--well, you may go." and the boy passed on, still holding his cap in his hand, while the wind tossed to and fro his waves of yellow hair. he went through the street, down a little alley to the brook, where his mother stood in the water, at her washing-stool, beating the heavy linen. the water-mill's sluices were opened, and the current was strong; the washing-stool was nearly carried away by it, and the laundress had hard work to strive against it. "i am very near taking a voyage," she said, "and it is so cold out in the water; for six hours have i been standing here. have you anything for me?"--and the boy drew forth a phial, which his mother put to her lips. "ah, that is as good as warm meat, and it is not so dear. o, the water is so cold--but if my strength will but last me out to bring you up honestly, my sweet child!" at that moment approached an elderly woman, poorly clad, blind of one eye, lame on one leg, and with her hair brushed into one large curl to hide the blind eye--but in vain, the defect was only the more conspicuous. this was "lame maren," as the neighbors called her, a friend of the washerwoman's. "poor thing, slaving and toiling away in the cold water! it is hard that you should be called names"--for maren had overheard the sheriff speaking to the child about his own mother-"hard that your boy should be told you are good-for-nothing." "what! did the sheriff really say so, child?" said the laundress, and her lips quivered. "so you have a mother who is good-for-nothing! perhaps he is right, only he should not say so to the child--but i must not complain, for good things have come to me from that house." "why yes, you were in service there once, when the sheriff's parents were alive, many years since. there is a grand dinner at the sheriff's to-day," went on maren; "it would have been put off, though, had not everything been prepared. i heard it from the porter. news came in a letter, an hour ago, that the sheriff's younger brother, at copenhagen, is dead." "dead!" repeated the laundress, and she turned as white as a corpse. "what do you care about it?" said maren. "to be sure, you must have known him, since you served in the house." "is he dead? he was the best, the kindest of creatures! indeed, there are not many like him," and the tears rolled down her cheeks. "o, the world is turning round, i feel so ill!" and she clung to the washing-stool for support. "you are ill, indeed!" cried maren. "take care, the stool will overturn. i had better get you home at once." "but the linen?" "i will look after that--only lean on me. the boy can stay here and watch it till i come back and wash what is left; it is not much." the poor laundress's limbs trembled under her. "i have stood too long in the cold water; i have had no food since yesterday. o, my poor child!" and she wept. the boy cried too, as he sat alone beside the brook, watching the wet linen. slowly the two women made their way up the little alley and through the street, past the sheriff's house. just as she reached her humble home, the laundress fell down on the paving-stones, fainting. she was carried upstairs and put to bed. kind maren hastened to prepare a cup of warm ale--that was the best medicine in this case, she thought--and then went back to the brook and did the best she could with the linen. in the evening she was again in the laundress's miserable room. she had begged from the sheriff's cook a few roasted potatoes and a little bit of bacon, for the sick woman. maren and the boy feasted upon these, but the patient was satisfied with the smell of them--that, she declared, was very nourishing. supper over, the boy went to bed, lying crosswise at his mother's feet, with a coverlet made of old carpet-ends, blue and red, sewed together. the laundress now felt a little better; the warm ale had strengthened her, the smell of the meat had done her good. "now, you good soul," said she to maren, "i will tell you all about it, while the boy is asleep. that he is already; look at him, how sweetly he looks with his eyes closed; he little thinks how his mother has suffered. may he never feel the like! well, i was in service with the sheriff's parents when their youngest son, the student, came home; i was a wild young thing then, but honest--that i must say for myself. and the student was so pleasant and merry, a better youth never lived. he was a son of the house, i only a servant, but we became sweethearts--all in honor and honesty--and he told his mother that he loved me; she was like an angel in his eyes, so wise, kind, and loving! and he went away, but his gold ring of betrothal was on my finger. when he was really gone, my mistress called me in to speak to her; so grave, yet so kind she looked, so wisely she spoke, like an angel, indeed. she showed me what a gulf of difference in tastes, habits, arid mind lay between her son and me. 'he sees you now to be good-hearted and pretty, but will you always be the same in his eyes? you have not been educated as he has been; intellectually you cannot rise to his level. i honor the poor,' she continued, 'and i know that in the kingdom of heaven many a poor man will sit in a higher seat than the rich; but that is no reason for breaking the ranks in this world, and you two, left to yourselves, would drive your carriage full tilt against all obstacles till it toppled over with you both. i know that a good honest handicraftsman, erik, the glove-maker, has been your suitor; he is a widower without children, he is well off; think whether you cannot be content with him.' every word my mistress spoke went like a knife through my heart, but i knew she was right; i kissed her hand, and shed such bitter tears! but bitterer tears still came when i went into my chamber and lay upon my bed. o, the long, dreary night that followed! our lord alone knows what i suffered. not till i went to church on sunday did a light break upon my darkness. it seemed providential that as i came out of church i met erik the glove-maker. there were no more doubts in my mind; he was a good man, and of my own rank. i went straight to him, took his hand, and asked, 'art thou still in the same mind toward me?'--'yes, and i shall never be otherwise minded,' he replied.--'dost thou care to have a girl who likes and honors thee, but does not love thee?'--'i believe love will come,' he said, and so he took my hand. i went home to my mistress; the gold ring that her son had given to me, that i wore all day next my heart, and on my finger at night in bed, i now drew forth; i kissed it till my mouth bled, i gave it to my mistress, and said that next week the bans would be read for me and the glove-maker. my mistress took me in her arms and kissed me; she did not tell me i was good-for-nothing; i was good for something then, it seems, before i had known so much trouble. the wedding was at candlemastide, and our first year all went well; my husband had apprentices, and you, maren, helped me in the housework." "o, and you were such a good mistress!" exclaimed maren. "never shall i forget how kind you and your husband were to me." "ah, you were with us during our good times! we had no children then. the student i never saw again--yes, once i saw him, but he did not see me. he came to his mother's funeral; i saw him standing by her grave, looking so sad, so ashy pale--but all for his mother's sake. when afterward his father died, he was abroad and did not come to the funeral. nor has he been here since; he is a lawyer, that i know, and he has never married. but he thought no more of me, and had he seen me, he would certainly have never recognized me, so ugly as i am now. and it is right it should be so." then she went on to speak of the bitter days of adversity, when troubles had come upon them in a flood. they had five hundred rix-dollars, and as in their street a house could be bought for two hundred, it was considered a good investment to buy it, take it down, and build it anew. the house was bought; masons and carpenters made an estimate that one thousand and twenty rix-dollars more would be required. erik arranged to borrow this sum from copenhagen, but the ship that was to bring him the money was lost, and the money with it. "it was just then that my sweet boy, who lies sleeping here, was born. then his father fell sick; for three-quarters of a year i had to dress and undress him every day. we went on borrowing and borrowing; all our things had to be sold, one by one; at last erik died. since then i have toiled and moiled for the boy's sake, have gone out cleaning and washing, done coarse work or fine, whichever i could get; but i do everything worse and worse; my strength will never return any more; it is our lord's will! he will take me away, and find better provision for my boy." she fell asleep. in the morning she seemed better, and fancied she was strong enough to go to her work again. but no sooner did she feel the cold water than a shivering seized her, she felt about convulsively with her hands, tried to step forward, and fell down. her head lay on the dry bank, but her feet were in the water of the brook, her wooden shoes were carried away by the stream. here she was found by maren. a message had been taken to her lodging that the sheriff wanted her, had something to say to her. it was too late; the poor washerwoman was dead. the letter that had brought the sheriff news of his brother's death also gave an abstract of his will; among other bequests he had left six hundred rix-dollars to the glove-maker's widow, who had formerly served his parents. "there was some love-nonsense between my brother and her," quoth the sheriff. "it is all as well she is out of the way; now it will all come to the boy, and i shall apprentice him to honest folk who will make him a good workman." for whatever the sheriff might do, were it ever so kind an action, he always spoke harshly and unkindly. so he now called the boy to him, promised to provide for him, and told him it was a good thing his mother was dead; she was good-for-nothing! she was buried in the paupers' churchyard. maren planted a little rose-tree over the grave; the boy stood by her side the while. "my darling mother!" he sighed, as the tears streamed down from his eyes. "it was not true that she was good-for-nothing!" "no, indeed!" cried her old friend, looking up to heaven. "let the world say she was good-for-nothing; our lord in his heavenly kingdom will not say so." "in the uttermost parts of the sea" by hans christian andersen some large ships were sent up toward the north pole, for the purpose of discovering the boundaries of land and sea, and of trying how far men could make their way. a year and a day had elapsed; amid mist and ice had they, with great difficulty, steered further and further; the winter had now begun; the sun had set, one long night would continue during many, many weeks. one unbroken plain of ice spread around them; the ships were all fast moored to it; the snow lay about in heaps, and had even shaped itself into cubiform houses, some as big as our barrows, some only just large enough for two or three men to find shelter within. darkness they could not complain of, for the northern lights--nature's fireworks--now red, now blue, flashed unceasingly, and the snow glistened so brightly. at times when it was brightest came troops of the natives, strange-looking figures, clad in hairy skins, and with sledges made out of hard fragments of ice; they brought skins to exchange, which the sailors were only too glad to use as warm carpets inside their snow houses, and as beds whereon they could rest under their snowy tents, while outside prevailed an intensity of cold such as we never experience during our severest winters. but the sailors remembered that at home it was still autumn; and they thought of the warm sunbeams and the leaves still clinging to the trees in varied glories of crimson and gold. their watches told them it was evening, and time for rest, and in one of the snow houses two sailors had already lain down to sleep; the youngest of these two had with him his best home-treasure, the bible that his grandmother had given him at parting. every night it lay under his pillow; he had known its contents from childhood, and every day he read a portion; and often as he lay on his couch, he recalled to mind those holy words of comfort, "if i should take the wings of the morning, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there should thy hand lead me, and thy right hand should hold me." these sublime words of faith were on his lips as he closed his eyes, when sleep came to him, and dreams with sleep--busy, swift-winged dreams, proving that though the body may rest, the soul must ever be awake. first he seemed to hear the melodies of songs dear to him in his home; a mild summer breeze seemed to breathe upon him, and a light shone upon his couch, as though the snowy dome above him had become transparent; he lifted his head, and behold! the dazzling white light was not the white of a snow wall, it came from the large wings of an angel stooping over him, an angel with eyes beaming with love. the angel's form seemed to spring from the pages of the bible, as from the pitcher of a lily-blossom; he extended his arms, and lo! the narrow walls of the snow-hut sank back like a mist melting before the daylight. once again the green meadows and autumnal-tinted woods of the sailor's home lay around him, bathed in quiet sunshine; the stork's nest was empty, but the apples still clung to the wild apple-tree; though leaves had fallen, the red hips glistened, and the blackbird whistled in the little green cage that hung in the lowly window of his childhood's home; the blackbird whistled the tune he had taught him, and the old grandmother wound chickweed about the bars of the cage, as her grandson had been wont to do. and the smith's pretty young daughter stood drawing water from the well, and as she nodded to the grandmother, the latter beckoned to her, and held up a letter to show her, a letter that had come that morning from the cold northern lands, from the north pole itself, where the old woman's grandson now was--safe under god's protecting hand. and the two women, old and young, laughed and wept by turns--and he the while, the young sailor whose body was sleeping amid ice and snow, his spirit roaming in the world of dreams, under the angel's wings, saw and heard it all, and laughed and wept with them. and from the letter these words were read aloud, "even in the uttermost parts of the sea, his right hand shall hold me fast": and a sweet, solemn music was wafted round him, and the angel drooped his wings; like a soft protecting veil they fell closer over the sleeper. the dream was ended; all was darkness in the little snow-hut, but the bible lay under the sailor's head, faith and hope abode in his heart. god was with him, and his home was with him, "even in the uttermost parts of the sea." "something" by hans christian andersen "i will be something," declared the eldest of five brothers; "i will be of use in the world; be it ever so humble a position that i may hold, let me be but useful, and that will be something. i will make bricks; folk cannot do without them, so i shall at least do something." "something very little, though," replied the second brother. "why, it is as good as nothing! it is work that might be done by a machine. better be a mason, as i intend to be. then one belongs to a guild, becomes a citizen, has a banner of one's own. nay, if all things go well, i may become a master, and have apprentices and workmen under me. that will be something!" "it will be nothing at all then, i can tell you that!" rejoined the third. "think how many different ranks there are in a town far above that of a master-mason. you may be an honest sort of a man, but you will never be a gentleman; gentle and simple; those are the two grand divisions, and you will always be one of the 'simple.' well, i know better than that. i will be an architect; i will be one of the thinkers, the artists; i will raise myself to the aristocracy of intellect. i may have to begin from the very lowest grade; i may begin as a carpenter's boy, and run about with a paper-cap on my head, to fetch ale for the workmen; i may not enjoy it, but i shall try to imagine it is only a masquerade. 'to-morrow,' i shall say, 'i will go my own way, and others shall not come near me.' yes, i shall go to the academy, learn to draw, and be called an architect. that will be something! i may get a title, perhaps; and i shall build and build, as others before me have done. yes, that will be something!" "but it is something that i care nothing about," said the fourth. "i should not care to go on, on, in the beaten track, to be a mere copyist; i will be a genius, cleverer than all of you put together; i will create a new style, provide ideas for buildings suited to the climate and materials of our country, suited to our national character, and the requirements of the age." "but supposing the climate and the materials don't agree," suggested the fifth, "how will you get on then, if they won't co-operate? as for our national character, to be following out that in architecture will be sheer affectation, and the requirements of modern civilization will drive you perfectly mad. i see you will none of you ever be anything, though of course you won't believe me. but do as you please, i shall not be like you. i shall reason over what you execute; there is something ridiculous in everything; i shall find it out, show you yeur faults--that will be something!" and he kept his word; and folk said of this fifth brother, "there is something in him, certainly; he has plenty of brains! but he does nothing." but he was content, he was something. but what became of the five brothers? we will hear the whole. the eldest brother, the brickmaker, found that every brick he turned out whole yielded him a tiny copper coin--only copper--but a great many of these small coins, added together, could be converted into a bright silver dollar, and through the power of this, wheresoever he knocked, whether at baker's, butcher's, or tailor's, the door flew open, and he received what he wanted. such was the virtue of his bricks; some, of course, got broken before they were finished, but a use was found even for these. for up by the trench would poor mother margaret fain build herself a little house, if she might; she took all the broken bricks, ay, and she got a few whole ones besides, for a good heart had the eldest brother, though only a brickmaker. the poor thing built her house with her own hands; it was very narrow, its one window was all on one side, the door was too low, and the thatch on the roof might have been laid on better, but it gave her shelter and a home, and could be seen far over the sea, which sometimes burst over the trench in its might, and sprinkled a salt shower over the little house, which kept its place there years after he who made the bricks was dead and gone. as for the second brother, he learned to build after another fashion, as he had resolved. when he was out of his apprenticeship, he buckled on his knapsack and started, singing as he went, on his travels. he came home again, and became a master in his native town; he built, house after house, a whole street of houses; there they stood, looked well, and were a credit to the town; and these houses soon built him a little house for himself. how? ask the houses, and they will give you no answer; but the people will answer you and say, "why, of course, the street built him his house!" it was small enough, and had only a clay floor, but when he and his bride danced over it, the floor grew as smooth as if it had been polished, and from every stone in the wall sprung a flower, that looked as gay as the costliest tapestry. it was a pretty house and a happy wedded pair. the banner of the masons' guild waved outside, and workmen and apprentices shouted "hurra!" yes, that was something! and at last he died--that, too, was something! next comes the architect, the third brother. he began as a carpenter's apprentice, and ran about the town on errands, wearing a paper-cap; but he studied industriously at the academy, and rose steadily upward. if the street full of houses had built a house for his brother the mason, the street took its name from the architect; the handsomest house in the whole street was his--that was something, and he was something! his children were gentlemen, and could boast of their "birth"; and when he died, his widow was a widow of condition--that is something--and his name stood on the corner of the street, and was in everybody's lips--that is something, too! now for the genius, the fourth brother, who wanted to invent something new, something original. somehow the ground gave way beneath his feet; he fell and broke his neck. but he had a splendid funeral, with music and banners, and flowery paragraphs in the newspapers; and three eulogiums were pronounced over him, each longer than the last, and this would have pleased him mightily, for he loved speechifying of all things. a monument was erected over his grave, only one story high--but that is something! so now he was dead, as well as his three elder brothers; the youngest, the critic, outlived them all, and that was as it should be, for thus he had the last word, which to him was a matter of the greatest importance. "he had plenty of brains," folk said. now his hour had struck, he died, and his soul sought the gates of heaven. there it stood side by side with another soul--old mother margaret from the trenches. "it is for the sake of contrast, i suppose, that i and this miserable soul should wait here together," thought the critic. "well now, who are you, my good woman?" he inquired. and the old woman replied, with as much respect as though st. peter himself were addressing her--in fact, she took him for st. peter, he gave himself such grand airs--"i am a poor old soul, i have no family, i am only old margaret from the house near the trenches." "well, and what have you done down below?" "i have done as good as nothing in the world! nothing whatever! it will be mercy, indeed, if such as i am suffered to pass through this gate." "and how did you leave the world?" inquired the critic, carelessly. he must talk about something; it wearied him to stand there, waiting. "well, i can hardly tell how i left it; i have been sickly enough during these last few years, and could not well bear to creep out of bed at all during the cold weather. it has been a severe winter, but now that is all past. for a few days, as your highness must know, the wind was quite still, but it was bitterly cold; the ice lay over the water as far as one could see. all the people in the town were out on the ice; there was dancing, and music, and feasting, and sledge-racing, i fancy; i could hear something of it all as i lay in my poor little chamber. and when it was getting toward evening, the moon was up, but was not yet very bright; i looked from my bed through the window, and i saw how there rose up over the sea a strange white cloud; i lay and watched it, watched the black dot in it, which grew bigger and bigger, and then i knew what it foreboded; that sign is not often seen, but i am old and experienced. i knew it, and i shivered with horror. twice before in my life have i seen that sign, and i knew that there would be a terrible storm and a spring flood; it would burst over the poor things on the ice, who were drinking and dancing and merry-making. young and old, the whole town was out on the ice; who was to warn them, if no one saw it, or no one knew what i knew? i felt so terrified, i felt all alive, as i had not felt for years! i got out of bed, forced the window open; i could see the folk running and dancing over the ice; i could see the gay-colored flags, i could hear the boys shout 'hurra!' and the girls and lads a-singing. all were so merry; and all the time the white cloud with its black speck rose higher and higher! i screamed as loud as i could; but no one heard me, i was too far off. soon would the storm break loose, the ice would break in pieces, and all that crowd would sink and drown. hear me they could not; get out to them i could not; what was to be done? then our lord sent me a good thought; i could set fire to my bed; better let my house be burned to the ground than that so many should miserably perish. so i kindled a light; i saw the red flame mount up; i got out at the door, but then i fell down; i lay there, i could not get up again. but the flames burst out through the window and over the roof; they saw it down below, and they all ran as fast as they could to help me; the poor old crone they believed would be burned; there was not one who did not come to help me. i heard them come, and i heard, too, such a rustling in the air, and then a thundering as of heavy cannon-shots, for the spring-flood was loosening the ice, and it all broke up. but the folk were all come off it to the trenches, where the sparks were flying about me; i had them all safe. but i could not bear the cold and the fright, and that is how i have come up here. can the gates of heaven be opened to such a poor old creature as i? i have no house now at the trenches; where can i go, if they refuse me here?" then the gates opened, and the angel bade poor margaret enter. as she passed the threshold, she dropped a blade of straw--straw from her bed--that bed which she had set alight to save the people on the ice, and lo! it had changed into gold! dazzling gold! yet flexible withal, and twisting into various forms. "look, that was what yonder poor woman brought," said the angel. "but what dost thou bring? truly, i know well that thou hast done nothing, not even made bricks. it is a pity thou canst not go back again to fetch at least one brick--not that it is good for anything when it is made, no, but because anything, the very least, done with a good will, is something. but thou mayst not go back, and i can do nothing for thee." then poor margaret pleaded for him thus: "his brother gave me all the bricks and broken bits wherewith i built my poor little house--that was a great kindness toward a poor old soul like me! may not all those bits and fragments, put together, be reckoned as one brick for him? it will be an act of mercy; he needs it, and this is the home of mercy." "to thy brother, whom thou didst despise," said the angel, "to him whose calling, in respect of worldly honor, was the lowest, shalt thou owe this mite of heavenly coin. thou shalt not be sent away; thou shalt have leave to stand here without, and think over thy manner of life down below. but within thou canst not enter, until thou hast done something that is good--something!" "i fancy i could have expressed that better," thought the critic; but he did not say it aloud, and that was already--something! the jewish girl by hans christian andersen there was in the charity-school among the other children a little jewish girl, so clever and good; the best, in fact, of them all; but one of the lessons she could not attend--the one when religion was taught, for this was a christian school. then she held her geography book before her to learn from it, or she did her sum; but the lesson was quickly learned, the sum was soon done; the book might be there open before her, but she did not read, she was listening; and the teacher soon noticed that she was attending more intently, even, than any of the rest. "read your book," the teacher urged, mildly and earnestly; but she looked at him with her black sparkling eyes, and when he put questions to her also, she knew more than all the others. she had listened, understood, and kept his words. her father was a poor honest man, and when first he brought her to the school, he had made the stipulation that she should not be taught the christian faith. to let her go away during the scripture lesson might, however, have given offence, and raised thoughts of various kinds in the minds of the other children, and so she stayed; but this could not go on any longer. the teacher went to her father, and told him that either he must take his daughter away from the school, or consent to her becoming a christian. "i cannot bear to see those burning eyes, that yearning, that thirst of the soul, as it were, after the words of the gospel," said the teacher. and the father burst into tears. "i know but little myself of our own religion, but her mother was a daughter of israel, of strong and firm faith, and on her dying bed i made a vow that our child should never receive christian baptism; that vow i must keep; it is to me as a convenant with god." and the little jewish girl was taken away from the school of the christians. years rolled by. in one of the smallest towns of jutland served as maid in a plain burgher's house a poor girl of the mosaic faith; this was sarah. her hair was black as ebony, her eyes dark, and yet brilliant and full of light, such as you see among the daughters of the east; and the expression in the countenance of the grown-up girl was still that of the child who sat on the school-room bench, listening with thoughtful and wistful eye. each sunday sounded from the church the pealing of the organ to the song of the congregation, and the tones floated over the street, into the house, where the jewish girl attended to her work, diligent and faithful in her calling. "remember the sabbath day to keep it holy," this was her law; but her sabbath was a day of labor to the christians, and only in her heart could she keep it holy; and that was not enough for her. but when the thought arose in her soul, "what matters it before god about days and hours?" and on the sunday of the christians her hour of devotion remained undisturbed. if, then, the organ's peal and the psalm-tunes reached over to her, where she stood in the kitchen, even this became a quiet and consecrated spot. she would read then the treasure and peculiar property of her people, the old testament, and this alone; for she kept deep in her heart what her father had told the teacher and herself when she was taken from the school--the vow made to her dying mother, "that sarah should not be baptized, not forsake the faith of her fathers." the new testament was, and should remain forever, a sealed book to her; and yet she knew much of it; it shone to her through the recollections of childhood. one evening she sat in a corner of the parlor, and heard her master reading aloud. she might listen, she thought, for this was not the gospel; nay! 'twas out of an old story-book he read: she might stay. and he read of a hungarian knight, taken captive by a turkish pasha, who had him yoked with oxen to the plow; and he was driven with lashes, and had to suffer pain and ignominy beyond endurance. but at home the knight's wife sold all her jewels, and mortgaged castle and lands, and his friends contributed large sums, for enormous was the ransom demanded; still it was raised, and he was delivered out of thraldom and disgrace. sick and suffering, he came to his home. but soon resounded far and near the summons to war against the foe of christianity. the sick man heard the call, and had neither peace nor rest any longer; he was placed on his charger; the blood came again to his cheeks, his strength seemed to return, and he rode forth to victory. the very pasha who had him yoked to the plow, and made him suffer pain and scorn, became his captive. he was carried home to the castle dungeon, but before his first hour there had elapsed the knight came, and asked the prisoner, "what dost thou think awaiteth thee?" "i know," said the turk; "retribution." "yes, the christian's retribution," said the knight. "christ taught us to forgive our enemies, to love our fellow-men. god is love! depart in peace to thy home and thy dear ones, and be gentle and good to those who suffer." then the prisoner burst into tears. "how could i believe such a thing could be possible? torments and sufferings i looked forward to as a certainty, and i took poison, which must kill me; within a few hours i shall die. there is no remedy. but before i die make known to me the faith that embraces such an amount of love and mercy; it is great and divine! in it let me die; let me die a christian!" and his prayer was granted. this was the legend, the history which was read; they all listened to it with attention, but deepest sank it into the heart of her who sat alone in the corner--the servant maid--sarah, the jewess. heavy tears stood in her black sparkling eyes while she sat here, as once on the school-bench, and felt the greatness of the gospel. the tears rolled down her cheeks. "let not my child become a christian!" were the mother's last words on her dying bed, and they rang through her soul with those of the law, "honor thy father and thy mother!" "still i have not been baptized! they call me 'the jewess'; the neighbors' boys did so, hooting at me last sunday as i stood outside the open church door, and looked in where the altar-lights burned and the congregation sang. ever since my school-days, up to this hour--even though i have tried to close my eyes against it--a power from christianity has like a sunbeam shone into my heart. but, my mother, i will not give thee sorrow in thy grave! i will not betray the vow my father made to thee; i will not read the christian's bible. have not i the god of my fathers? on him let me rest my head!" and years rolled by. the husband died, the wife was left behind in hard plight. now she could no longer afford to have a maid; but sarah did not forsake the widow; she became her help in distress, and kept the household together; she worked till late in the night, and got bread for the house by the labor of her hands. there were no near relatives to help a family where the mother grew weaker each day, lingering for months on a bed of sickness. sarah, gentle and pious, watched, nursed, and worked, and became the blessing of the poor home. "there lies the bible," said the invalid; "read to me this wearisome evening; i sadly want to hear god's word." and sarah bowed her head; she folded her hands round the bible, which she opened, and read aloud to the sick woman; now and again the tears welled forth, but her eyes shone clearer, even as the darkness cleared from her soul. "mother, thy child shall not receive the baptism of the christians, shall not be named in their communion; in this we will be united here on earth, but above this there is--is a greater unity--even in god. 'he goes with us beyond the grave'; 'it is he who pours water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground.' i understand it! i do not know myself how i came to it! through him it is--in him--christ!" and she trembled as she named the holy name; a baptism of fire streamed through her, stronger than her frame could bear, and she bent down, more powerless even than she by whom she watched. "poor sarah!" they said; "she is worn out with labor and watching." they took her to the hospital for the poor; there she died; thence she was borne to her grave; not to the christians' graveyard; that was not the place for the jewish girl: no, outside, by the wall, her grave was dug. and god's sun, which shone upon the graves of the christians, shines also upon that of the jewish girl; and the hymns which are sung by the graves of the christians resound by her grave beyond the wall; thither, too, reaches the promise: "there is resurrection in christ, in him, the saviour, who said to his disciples, 'john truly baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized with the holy ghost.'" the story of a mother by hans christian andersen a mother sat by her little child: she was very sorrowful, and feared that it would die. its little face was pale, and its eyes were closed. the child drew its breath with difficulty, and sometimes so deeply as if it were sighing; and then the mother looked more sorrowfully than before on the little creature. then there was a knock at the door, and a poor old man came in, wrapped up in something that looked like a great horse-cloth, for that keeps warm; and he required it, for it was cold winter. without, everything was covered with ice and snow, and the wind blew so sharply that it cut one's face. and as the old man trembled with cold, and the child was quiet for a moment, the mother went and put some beer on the stove in a little pot, to warm it for him. the old man sat down and rocked the cradle, and the mother seated herself on an old chair by him, looked at her sick child that drew its breath so painfully, and seized the little hand. "you think i shall keep it, do you not?" she asked. "the good god will not take it from me!" and the old man--he was _death_--nodded in such a strange way, that it might just as well mean _yes_ as _no_. and the mother cast down her eyes, and tears rolled down her cheeks. her head became heavy: for three days and three nights she had not closed her eyes; and now she slept, but only for a minute; then she started up and shivered with cold. "what is that?" she asked, and looked round on all sides; but the old man was gone, and her little child was gone; he had taken it with him. and there in the corner the old clock was humming and whirring; the heavy leaden weight ran down to the floor--plump!--and the clock stopped. but the poor mother rushed out of the house crying for her child. out in the snow sat a woman in long black garments, and she said, "death has been with you in your room; i saw him hasten away with your child: he strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away." "only tell me which way he has gone," said the mother. "tell me the way, and i will find him." "i know him," said the woman in the black garments; "but before i tell you, you must sing me all the songs that you have sung to your child. i love those songs; i have heard them before. i am night, and i saw your tears when you sang them." "i will sing them all, all!" said the mother. "but do not detain me, that i may overtake him, and find my child." but night sat dumb and still. then the mother wrung her hands, and sang and wept. and there were many songs, but yet more tears, and then night said, "go to the right into the dark fir wood; for i saw death take that path with your little child." deep in the forest there was a cross road, and she did not know which way to take. there stood a blackthorn bush, with not a leaf nor a blossom upon it; for it was in the cold winter time, and icicles hung from the twigs. "have you not seen death go by, with my little child?" "yes," replied the bush, "but i shall not tell you which way he went unless you warm me on your bosom. i'm freezing to death here; i'm turning to ice." and she pressed the blackthorn bush to her bosom, quite close, that it might be well warmed. and the thorns pierced into her flesh, and her blood oozed out in great drops. but the blackthorn shot out fresh green leaves, and blossomed in the dark winter night: so warm is the heart of a sorrowing mother! and the blackthorn bush told her the way that she should go. then she came to a great lake, on which there were neither ships nor boat. the lake was not frozen enough to carry her, nor sufficiently open to allow her to wade through, and yet she must cross it if she was to find her child. then she laid herself down to drink the lake; and that was impossible for any one to do. but the sorrowing mother thought that perhaps a miracle might be wrought. "no, that can never succeed," said the lake. "let us rather see how we can agree. i'm fond of collecting pearls, and your eyes are the two clearest i have ever seen: if you will weep them out into me i will carry you over into the great greenhouse, where death lives and cultivates flowers and trees; each of these is a human life." "oh, what would i not give to get my child!" said the afflicted mother; and she wept yet more, and her eyes fell into the depths of the lake, and became two costly pearls. but the lake lifted her up, as if she sat in a swing, and she was wafted to the opposite shore, where stood a wonderful house, miles in length. one could not tell if it was a mountain containing forests and caves, or a place that had been built. but the poor mother could not see it, for she had wept her eyes out. "where shall i find death, who went away with my little child?" she asked. "he has not arrived here yet," said an old gray-haired woman, who was going about and watching the hothouse of death. "how have you found your way here, and who helped you?" "the good god has helped me," she replied. "he is merciful, and you will be merciful too. where shall i find my little child?" "i do not know it," said the old woman, "and you cannot see. many flowers and trees have faded this night, and death will soon come and transplant them. you know very well that every human being has his tree of life, or his flower of life, just as each is arranged. they look like other plants, but their hearts beat. children's hearts can beat too. think of this. perhaps you may recognize the beating of your child's heart. but what will you give me if i tell you what more you must do?" "i have nothing more to give," said the afflicted mother. "but i will go for you to the ends of the earth." "i have nothing for you to do there," said the old woman, "but you can give me your long black hair. you must know yourself that it is beautiful, and it pleases me. you can take my white hair for it, and that is always something." "do you ask for nothing more?" asked she. "i will give you that gladly." and she gave her beautiful hair, and received in exchange the old woman's white hair. and then they went into the great hothouse of death, where flowers and trees were growing marvellously intertwined. there stood the fine hyacinths under glass bells, some quite fresh, others somewhat sickly; water snakes were twining about them, and black crabs clung tightly to the stalks. there stood gallant palm-trees, oaks, and plantains, and parsley and blooming thyme. each tree and flower had its name; each was a human life: the people were still alive, one in china, another in greenland, scattered about in the world. there were great trees thrust into little pots, so that they stood quite crowded, and were nearly bursting the pots; there was also many a little weakly flower in rich earth, with moss round about it, cared for and tended. but the sorrowful mother bent down over all the smallest plants, and heard the human heart beating in each, and out of millions she recognized that of her child. "that is it!" she cried, and stretched out her hands over a little crocus flower, which hung down quite sick and pale. "do not touch the flower," said the old dame; "but place yourself here; and when death comes--i expect him every minute--then don't let him pull up the plant, but threaten him that you will do the same to the other plants; then he'll be frightened. he has to account for them all; not one may be pulled up till he receives commission from heaven." and all at once there was an icy cold rush through the hall, and the blind mother felt that death was arriving. "how did you find your way hither?" said he. "how have you been able to come quicker than i?" "i am a mother," she answered. and death stretched out his long hands toward the little delicate flower; but she kept her hands tight about it, and held it fast; and yet she was full of anxious care lest he should touch one of the leaves. then death breathed upon her hands, and she felt that his breath was colder than the icy wind; and her hands sank down powerless. "you can do nothing against me," said death. "but the merciful god can," she replied. "i only do what he commands," said death. "i am his gardener. i take all his trees and flowers, and transplant them into the great paradise gardens, in the unknown land. but how they will flourish there, and how it is there, i may not tell you." "give me back my child," said the mother; and she implored and wept. all at once she grasped two pretty flowers with her two hands, and called to death, "i'll tear off all your flowers, for i am in despair." "do not touch them," said death. "you say you are so unhappy, and now you would make another mother just as unhappy!" "another mother?" said the poor woman; and she let the flowers go. "there are your eyes for you," said death. "i have fished them up out of the lake; they gleamed up quite brightly. i did not know that they were yours. take them back--they are clearer now than before--and then look down into the deep well close by. i will tell you the names of the two flowers you wanted to pull up, and you will see what you were about to frustrate and destroy." and she looked down into the well, and it was a happiness to see how one of them became a blessing to the world, how much joy and gladness she diffused around her. and the woman looked at the life of the other, and it was made up of care and poverty, misery and woe. "both are the will of god," said death. "which of them is the flower of misfortune, and which the blessed one?" she asked. "that i may not tell you," answered death; "but this much you shall hear, that one of these two flowers is that of your child. it was the fate of your child that you saw--the future of your own child." then the mother screamed aloud for terror. "which of them belongs to my child? tell me that. release the innocent child! let my child free from all that misery! rather carry it away! carry it into god's kingdom! forget my tears, forget my entreaties, and all that i have done!" "i do not understand you," said death. "will you have your child back, or shall i carry it to that place that you know not?" then the mother wrung her hands, and fell on her knees, and prayed to the good god. "hear me not when i pray against thy will, which is at all times the best! hear me not! hear me not!" and she let her head sink down on her bosom. and death went away with her child into the unknown land. the little match girl by hans christian andersen it was terribly cold; it snowed and was already almost dark, and evening came on, the last evening of the year. in the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. when she left her own house she certainly had had slippers on; but of what use were they? they were very big slippers, and her mother had used them till then, so big were they. the little maid lost them as she slipped across the road, where two carriages were rattling by terribly fast. one slipper was not to be found again, and a boy had seized the other, and run away with it. he thought he could use it very well as a cradle, some day when he had children of his own. so now the little girl went with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. in an old apron she carried a number of matches, and a bundle of them in her hand. no one had bought anything of her all day, and no one had given her a farthing. shivering with cold and hunger she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! the snowflakes covered her long fair hair, which fell in pretty curls over her neck; but she did not think of that now. in all the windows lights were shining, and there was a glorious smell of roast goose, for it was new year's eve. yes, she thought of that! in a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sat down, cowering. she had drawn up her little feet, but she was still colder, and she did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, and did not bring a farthing of money. from her father she would certainly receive a beating, and besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled, though the largest rents had been stopped with straw and rags. her little hands were almost benumbed with the cold. ah, a match might do her good, if she could only draw one from the bundle, and rub it against the wall, and warm her hands at it. she drew one out. r-r-atch! how it spluttered and burned! it was a warm bright flame, like a little candle, when she held her hands over it; it was a wonderful little light! it really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a great polished stove, with bright brass feet and a brass cover. how the fire burned! how comfortable it was! but the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burned match in her hand. a second was rubbed against the wall. it burned up, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into the room. on the table a snow-white cloth was spread; upon it stood a shining dinner service; the roast goose smoked gloriously, stuffed with apples and dried plums. and what was still more splendid to behold, the goose hopped down from the dish, and waddled along the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. then the match went out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall was before her. she lighted another match. then she was sitting under a beautiful christmas tree; it was greater and more ornamented than the one she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant's. thousands of candles burned upon the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the print shops looked down upon them. the little girl stretched forth her hand toward them; then the match went out. the christmas lights mounted higher. she saw them now as stars in the sky: one of them fell down, forming a long line of fire. "now some one is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to god. she rubbed another match against the wall; it became bright again, and in the brightness the old grandmother stood clear and shining, mild and lovely. "grandmother!" cried the child, "o! take me with you! i know you will go when the match is burned out. you will vanish like the warm fire, the warm food, and the great, glorious christmas tree!" and she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to hold her grandmother fast. and the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than in the middle of the day; grandmother had never been so large or so beautiful. she took the little girl in her arms, and both flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor care--they were with god. but in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the poor girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. the new year's sun rose upon a little corpse! the child sat there, stiff and cold, with the matches, of which one bundle was burned. "she wanted to warm herself," the people said. no one imagined what a beautiful thing she had seen, and in what glory she had gone in with her grandmother to the new year's day. flowers without fruit prune thou thy words; the thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng:-they will condense within thy soul, and change to purpose strong. but he who lets his feelings run in soft luxurious flow, shrinks when hard service must be done, and faints at every woe. faith's meanest deed more favor bears, where hearts and wills are weigh'd, than brightest transports, choicest prayers, which bloom their hour, and fade. _--j. h. newman_ contentment my mind to me a kingdom is; such perfect joy therein i find, as far exceeds all earthly bliss that world affords, or grows by kind: though much i want what most men have, yet doth my mind forbid me crave. content i live--this is my stay; i seek no more than may suffice: i press to bear no haughty sway; look--what i lack, my mind supplies! lo! thus i triumph like a king, content with that my mind doth bring. i see how plenty surfeits oft, and hasty climbers soonest fall; i see how those that sit aloft mishap doth threaten most of all; these get with toil, and keep with fear: such cares my mind could never bear. i laugh not at another's loss; i grudge not at another's gain; no worldly wave my mind can toss; i brook that is another's pain. i fear no foe: i scorn no friend: i dread no death: i fear no end. some have too much, yet still they crave; i little have, yet seek no more: they are but poor, though much they have, and i am rich, with little store. they poor, i rich: they beg, i give: they lack, i lend: they pine, i live. i wish but what i have at will: i wander not to seek for more: i like the plain; i climb no hill: in greatest storm i sit on shore, and laugh at those that toil in vain, to get what must be lost again. --this is my choice; for why?--i find no wealth is like a quiet mind. _--unknown_ the search for peace sweet peace, where dost thou dwell? i humbly crave, let me once know. i sought thee in a secret cave, and ask'd, if peace were there? a hollow wind did seem to answer, "no:- go seek elsewhere." i did; and going did a rainbow note: surely, thought i, this is the lace of peace's coat: i will search out the matter. but while i look'd, the clouds immediately did break and scatter. then went i to a garden, and did spy a gallant flower, the crown imperial: sure, said i, peace at the root must dwell. but when i digg'd, i saw a worm devour what show'd so well. at length i met a reverend good old man: whom when for peace i did demand, he thus began: "there was a prince of old at salem dwelt, who lived with good increase of flock and fold. "he sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save his life from foes. but after death, out of his grave there sprang twelve stalks of wheat: which many wondering at, got some of those to plant and set. "it prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse through all the earth: for they that taste it do rehearse, that virtue lies therein; a secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth by flight of sin. "take of this grain, which in my garden grows, and grows for you; make bread of it:--and that repose and peace, which everywhere with so much earnestness you do pursue, is only there." _--g. herbert_ a song of praise to god, ye choir above, begin a hymn so loud and strong that all the universe may hear and join the grateful song. praise him, thou sun, who dwells unseen amidst transcendent light, where thy refulgent orb would seem a spot, as dark as night. thou silver moon, 'ye host of stars, the universal song through the serene and silent night to listening worlds prolong. sing him, ye distant worlds and suns, from whence no travelling ray hath yet to us, through ages past, had time to make its way. assist, ye raging storms, and bear on rapid wings his praise, from north to south, from east to west, through heaven, and earth, and seas. exert your voice, ye furious fires that rend the watery cloud, and thunder to this nether world your maker's words aloud. ye works of god, that dwell unknown beneath the rolling main; ye birds, that sing among the groves, and sweep the azure plain; ye stately hills, that rear your heads, and towering pierce the sky; ye clouds, that with an awful pace majestic roll on high; ye insects small, to which one leaf within its narrow sides a vast extended world displays, and spacious realms provides; ye race, still less than these, with which the stagnant water teems, to which one drop, however small, a boundless ocean seems; whate'er ye are, where'er ye dwell, ye creatures great or small, adore the wisdom, praise the power, that made and governs all. _--p. skelton_ the traveller how are thy servants blest, o lord! how sure is their defence! eternal wisdom is their guide, their help, omnipotence. in foreign realms, and lands remote, supported by thy care, through burning climes i pass'd unhurt, and breathed in tainted air. thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, made every region please; the hoary alpine hills it warm'd, and smoothed the tyrrhene seas. think, o my soul, devoutly think, how, with affrighted eyes, thou saw'st the wide-extended deep in all its horrors rise. confusion dwelt in every face, and fear in every heart; when waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs, o'ercame the pilot's art. yet then from all my griefs, o lord, thy mercy set me free; whilst, in the confidence of prayer, my soul took hold on thee. for though in dreadful whirls we hung high on the broken wave, i knew thou wert not slow to hear, nor impotent to save. --the storm was laid; the winds retired, obedient to thy will; the sea that roar'd at thy command, at thy command was still. _--j. addison_ true greatness the fairest action of our human life is scorning to revenge an injury: for who forgives without a further strife his adversary's heart to him doth tie: and 'tis a firmer conquest truly said to win the heart, than overthrow the head. if we a worthy enemy do find, to yield to worth, it must be nobly done:-but if of baser metal be his mind, in base revenge there is no honor won. who would a worthy courage overthrow? and who would wrestle with a worthless foe? we say our hearts are great, and cannot yield; because they cannot yield, it proves them poor: great hearts are task'd beyond their power but seld: the weakest lion will the loudest roar. truth's school for certain does this same allow, high-heartedness doth sometimes teach to bow. _--lady e. carew_ character of a happy life how happy is he born and taught that serveth not another's will; whose armor is his honest thought, and simple truth his utmost skill! whose passions not his masters are, whose soul is still prepared for death, not tied unto the world with care of public fame, or private breath; who envies none that chance doth raise or vice; who never understood how deepest wounds are given by praise; nor rules of state, but rules of good; who hath his life from rumors freed; whose conscience is his strong retreat; whose state can neither flatterers feed, nor ruin make accusers great; who god doth late and early pray more of his grace than gifts to lend; and entertains the harmless day with a well-chosen book or friend; --this man is freed from servile bands of hope to rise, or fear to fall; lord of himself, though not of lands; and having nothing, yet hath all. _--sir h. wotton_ a thanksgiving to god, for his house lord, thou hast given me a cell, wherein to dwell; a little house, whose humble roof is weather-proof; under the spars of which i lie both soft and dry; where thou, my chamber for to ward, hast set a guard of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep me, while i sleep. low is my porch, as is my fate: both void of state; and yet the threshold of my door is worn by th' poor, who thither come, and freely get good words, or meat. like as my parlor, so my hall and kitchen's small; a little buttery, and therein a little bin, which keeps my little loaf of bread unchipt, unflead; some brittle sticks of thorn or briar make me a fire, close by whose living coal i sit, and glow like it. lord, i confess too, when i dine, the pulse is thine, and all those other bits that be there placed by thee; the worts, the purslain, and the mess of water-cress, which of thy kindness thou hast sent; and my content makes those, and my beloved beet, to be more sweet. 'tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth with guiltless mirth, and giv'st me wassail-bowls to drink, spiced to the brink. lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand that soils my land, and giv'st me, for my bushel sown, twice ten for one; thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay her egg each day; besides my healthful ewes to bear me twins each year; the while the conduits of my kine run cream, for wine: all these, and better, thou dost send me--to this end, that i should render, for my part, a thankful heart. _--r. herrick_ friends departed they are all gone into the world of light! and i alone sit lingering here! their very memory is fair and bright, and my sad thoughts doth clear. it glows and glitters in my cloudy breast like stars upon some gloomy grove, or those faint beams in which this hill is drest after the sun's remove. i see them walking in an air of glory, whose light doth trample on my days; my days, which are at best but dull and hoary, mere glimmerings and decays. o holy hope! and high humility! high as the heavens above! these are your walks, and you have show'd them me, to kindle my cold love. dear, beauteous death; the jewel of the just! shining nowhere but in the dark; what mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, could man outlook that mark! he that hath found some fledged birdes nest may know at first sight if the bird be flown; but what fair dell or grove he sings in now, that is to him unknown. and yet, as angels in some brighter dreams call to the soul when man doth sleep, so some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, and into glory peep. _--h. vaughan_ the land of dreams "awake, awake, my little boy! thou wast thy mother's only joy; why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? o wake! thy father does thee keep." --"o what land is the land of dreams? what are its mountains, and what are its streams? o father! i saw my mother there among the lilies by waters fair. "among the lambs, clothed in white, she walk'd with her thomas in sweet delight: i wept for joy; like a dove i mourn:-o when shall i again return!" --"dear child! i also by pleasant streams have wander'd all night in the land of dreams:-but, though calm and warm the waters wide, i could not get to the other side." --"father, o father! what do we here, in this land of unbelief and fear?-the land of dreams is better far, above the light of the morning star." _--w. blake_ adoration sweet is the dew that falls betimes, and drops upon the leafy limes; sweet hermon's fragrant air: sweet is the lily's silver bell, and sweet the wakeful tapers smell that watch for early prayer. sweet the young nurse, with love intense, which smiles o'er sleeping innocence; sweet when the lost arrive; sweet the musician's ardor beats, while his vague mind's in quest of sweets, the choicest flowers to hive. strong is the horse upon his speed; strong in pursuit the rapid glede, which makes at once his game: strong the tall ostrich on the ground; strong through the turbulent profound shoots xiphias to his aim. strong is the lion--like a coal his eyeball--like a bastion's mole his chest against the foes: strong the gier-eagle on his sail; strong against tide the enormous whale emerges as he goes. but stronger still, in earth and air, and in sea, the man of prayer, and far beneath the tide: and in the seat to faith assign'd, where ask is, have; where seek is, find; where knock is, open wide. _--c. smart_ [illustration: hop-picking. (_see page 274._)] the little gleaner. a monthly magazine for the young. vol. x., new series. 1888. london: houlston and sons, 7, paternoster buildings, e.c.; and e. wilmshurst, bookseller, blackheath, s.e. london: printed by w. h. and l. collingridge, 148 and 149, aldersgate street, e.c. [illustration: _engraved by s. w. partridge & co._ "well, then, come to the canal." (_see page 4._)] the editor's new year's address to his young friends. dear young friends,--we wish you each and all a very happy new year, and, above all things else, that it may prove to many of you a year of grace--that is, we pray that the rich saving grace of god may be put in the hearts of many of our readers who hitherto have not called upon him for mercy. how many who began the year 1887 in health are now laid in the grave! some, no doubt, who read this address will be thinking of others who read last year's, and who were interested in the little gleaner, watching for its appearance month by month, but who now have passed away, and will no more read it, nor walk and talk with them again. the other month, a wrapper in which a gleaner had been enclosed by some friend to a person in ireland was sent to us bearing this solemn mark, "_dead_." this told us that the person to whom the gleaner had been sent had become the prey of death, and would never read another. oh, how solemn that word looked and sounded to us--"_dead_!" and the thought rushed into our mind, "how did he die? where is he? if he died in christ, it is well with him, for all who thus die are eternally at rest, free from sin, care, pain, and sorrow. yea, they are 'for ever with the lord.'" dear reader, how is it with you? you are spared, while some have been called from time into eternity. we hope you feel this to be a mercy, and we now ask, have you ever been led to the throne of grace, concerned about sin and salvation? has the cry ever gone from your heart to the lord, "god be merciful to me a sinner"? if not, oh, that, as this year begins to pass away, the spirit may cause your heart to feel the guilt of your sin, and lead you, a poor, burdened, contrite one, to the feet of him who died on the cross, and whose blood cleanses those who are thus brought unto him from all sin. then you shall prove that he is "mighty to save"--yea, "able to save all those to the uttermost that come unto god by him." we believe that many who will read these words have proved the ability of christ jesus to save, and that others are seeking him, and longing to know that their sins are forgiven. we rejoice over them, and pray that many more may be brought to walk the same way, for it is the way from sin, death, and hell, and the way to christ, peace, and heaven. all who walk therein belong to the flock of the good shepherd; and we can say to each one who has thus fled to him for refuge, "he careth for you." his love is stronger than death, and knows no change, for he is "the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." dear young friends, there is a reality in the religion of jesus, and we pray that, in this truth-despising day, you may feel the power of grace, and, by the work of the spirit in your hearts, be so grounded in the truth that you may turn with contempt from all those who, while they profess to preach, have not the knowledge of god and his truth in them; and, although they are anxious to discredit the word of god, and set aside the atonement of christ, yet they do not know what to substitute for them. all who follow such leaders are certainly being led on "the down grade," and even the leaders themselves confess that they do not know where they shall be landed. some have already been landed in socinianism, and others in infidelity. therefore, we say to all our readers, abide by and hold fast the word of god, cleave to those who preach the pure and simple truths of the gospel of christ, as recorded in the scriptures, and may the lord bless you with faith to receive them in your heart. then you shall "know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." dear young friends, we seek your good, therefore we thus write, hoping that our word of warning may not be in vain, but that some may be put on their guard against preachers and teachers who have nothing but the shifting sands of science for a foundation, which must all be swept away, and those who build thereon must perish in the ruin. oh, may we be found on the rock, christ, living and dying, and be enabled to declare before all these deceivers, "i know whom i have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which i have committed unto him against that day." children, do not forget the bible. obey, honour, and love your parents. avoid bad company, bad and foolish books, and evil habits. these things will bring shame and misery to those who follow them, therefore shun them all. we still ask your help in spreading the gleaner and the sower. may the lord make them useful, and bless you with his covenant blessing, is the desire of the editor. a touching incident. a very touching incident occurred lately at governeur hospital, new york city. little annie ashpurvis was sent by her parents to the cellar for some firewood. the child, who was but six years old, took a lighted lamp in her hand, and while descending the stairs, her foot slipped, and she fell, breaking the lamp, the flames of the burning fluid soon enveloping her entire body. as soon as the surgeon was called, the little sufferer was driven in an ambulance to the hospital. the child was put on a sofa cot, and the surgeon did all he could to alleviate her suffering, but it was impossible to save her life. under the influence of a narcotic, she soon fell asleep. thus she lay slowly breathing for some hours. her face was so swollen that she could not open her eyes. about half-past two in the morning she showed signs of returning consciousness. the watchful nurse asked her if she would take a drink. she distinctly answered, "yes." in a moment the house surgeon was beside her cot. he felt the pulse, but shook his head, and turned to go away. as he did so, the little creature moved her body. she turned half around. the dim light of the candle shone on the blackened face. the swollen lips pursed out, and in a clear, sweet voice, the dying child began to sing, "nearer, my god, to thee." the doctor and the nurse stood transfixed. the other patients in the silent, darkened ward leaned on their elbows and drank in the sweet melody. the first verse completed, she gradually sank back on her pillow. her strength began to fail, and with it her voice, and only the humming, like distant music, of the air of the hymn could be heard. how sweet, yet weird, that humming sounded! the candle lent its meagre light, and the big clock in the corner told out its seconds, as the sweet little soul passed out to its maker. the humming ceased. all was over. the doctor turned away with his handkerchief raised to his eyes. the nurse gazed into the flame of the candle, and heaved a sigh. she seemed to read the little one's death there. when the remains were buried, the coffin was strewn with flowers, offerings of her little schoolmates, with whom the dead child had been a great favourite.- _evangelist_. self-denial.--there never did, and never will, exist anything permanent, and noble, and excellent in a character which was a stranger to the exercise of resolute self-denial. "only once." "stop a minute, james. we're making up a skating party to go down the river to-night. we shall build a fire on the island, and have a grand time. come, go with us." "no, george, i can't. father says i must skate on the canal. it isn't so wide, nor quite so good skating, i know, but it's safe." "nonsense! the ice is at least two inches thick anywhere, even in the thinnest places." "no matter. i can't skate on the river." "well, then, come to the canal. you can skate out to the fork, where it joins the river, and see us all. will you do that?" "yes." "all right. be there at seven." james was ready with his skates at the time appointed, and about to leave the house. "where now, james?" asked his father. "i'm going to skate awhile on the canal, father." "well, it's a bright evening, but don't stay late, and don't go on the river." just then james's little sister, marion, who was ready to go to bed, shouted after him, "stop, james! give me a kiss," and holding up her rosebud mouth, in a plump face, from which the laughing eyes were shining, she received his good-night kiss, and he went out. as he passed the window, he saw, through the half-drawn curtains, little marion by her mother, with the bible. the father had laid his book down, and they sat reverently listening while his petition went up to heaven. it was a beautiful picture. poor jamie! with what different feelings would he have looked upon it, had he then known what was to happen within the next two hours! he crossed the field before the house, and was soon on the canal, and gliding swiftly towards the river, from which the sound of merry voices already reached his ear; and as he wheeled splendidly, just at the entrance of the canal, the boys saw him, and came bearing down upon him like a fleet of swift ships before the wind. "hurrah, james!" cried a dozen of them, as they joined company on the canal. there they amused themselves awhile, racing, skating backward, and cutting all sorts of fanciful figures upon the ice, until george gave the word, "now for the island!" and with loud shouts they shot out together upon the river, all but james. "i must leave you now," he said. "oh, james, don't!" cried several at once. "now, see here, james," said george; "what's the use of being so set? go down with us this time." "father said, 'don't go on the river.'" "well, as to that, you've been on the river two or three times. look at your marks." james now saw that, in the excitement of their sport, he had repeatedly rushed out of the canal quite across the channel of the river. he wanted to go with the boys. he didn't really think there was much danger, and the discovery that he had already unwittingly broken his father's command, did not help him in his hour of weakness and temptation. the boys all clamoured for him to join them. james slowly glided out of the canal, stood still a moment, and the tempter prevailed. "well, i'll go down this once--mind you, only once," and he darted like an arrow to the front, for he was the best skater in the company, and soon was far in advance of the rest. alas! none of the boys knew of the murderous "breathing-hole" which had opened that day in the ice in the channel, and now lay right in james's path, waiting to receive him; and the first notice they had of its existence was a despairing cry of terror from him as he plunged in. all was confusion among the boys; but george, more self-possessed than the others, hurried to the shore, and, shouting cheerily, "hold on, jamie! i'll help you out," broke off the limb of a tree, as large and long as he could handle, brought it on, and tried, by carefully creeping towards james, to put it within his reach. but the current was strong; the water was bitterly cold; and james, who had been urging his friend to make haste, now began to lose his strength and become benumbed, and before the limb came within his grasp, he said, faintly, "oh, george, i can't hold on any longer! ask father--to forgive----" and went down with the tide. an hour later, the men at the mill below, who had broken the ice above the barred outlet of the dam, and were watching and waiting in expectation of their mournful work, lifted james's body out of the water, and tenderly carried it to his home. boys, i have seldom told you a more sad story. oh, that i could now impress upon your young hearts the lesson of obedience to parents so deeply that it shall never be forgotten! if you are ever tempted to disregard a kind father's commands, or his advice, even though it be "only once," may you have strength to resist the temptation. remember jamie. it is true that disobedience to parents is not always--nor indeed often--followed so speedily by such sad consequences, but we know that the smile of god for this life will rest upon those children who obey their parents. "honour thy father and mother" is the first commandment with promise. lines on the new year. in some simple words of rhyme read, and mark the flight of time; seasons come and disappear, as we pass from year to year. all things ever on the move, whether them we hate or love; 'tis a changing scene below-this we own, for this we know. blest are they--and only they-who are in the "narrow way"; seeking jesus' blessed face; longing much to know his grace. mourning over inward sin; panting only him to win who for sin and sinners died, when on calvary crucified. do i, who these lines now read, of redemption feel my need? do i really long to know that his blood for me did flow? do my heart and mouth confess i am all unrighteousness? do i pray indeed to see christ my righteousness to be? do i feel i cannot die till he does his blood apply? and my doubting soul assure i shall to the end endure? if 'tis so, i know full well i shall surely with him dwell, and shall, in his house on high, shout his praise beyond the sky. a. hammond. supposing all the great points of atheism were formed into a kind of creed, i would fain ask whether it would not require an infinitely greater measure of faith than any set of articles which they so violently oppose?--_addison._ the charcoal burner's star. in one of the protestant cantons of switzerland dwelt a lady of fortune, in a handsome mansion, surrounded with extensive grounds. these were laid out with the greatest taste, so as to command at every convenient point a favourable view of the romantic and interesting country that rose on all sides round the lovely and fertile plain in which it was situated. madame de blénal was a widow who had, at an early age, married a gentleman of property in the canton who, like herself, was a humble follower and sincere lover of the redeemer, but who, after a year or two of as perfect happiness as this world can be expected to afford, died in faith, looking forward with assured hope to the promises made by the lord jesus to all who truly believe in him. with a heart prepared by faith to submit to the decrees of providence, whether for this world's good or ill, madame de blénal, though she deeply felt the blow which her heavenly father had inflicted upon her, soothed her grief with the reflection that her husband was now at peace, and removed from the troubles which beset every sojourner in this mortal world. too fondly attached to his memory ever to enter a second time into married life, she applied herself entirely to the cultivation of a treasure he had left behind, in the person of a little boy named alfred, whom she endeavoured prayerfully to bring up "in the nurture and admonition of the lord." neither did she neglect to enrich his mind with such knowledge as might enable him to manage the earthly inheritance which was hereafter to belong to him, if it pleased god that he should live to arrive at the age of manhood. at the time of which we are writing, madame de blénal had just resigned to him the management of the property which he inherited from his father, reserving to herself only the portion which she had brought with her when she married. still, as, in his own opinion as well as hers, he was yet too young to think of taking a wife, madame de blénal remained the mistress of his household, while he applied himself to studying the nature of the duties that had devolved upon him, and to endeavouring to acquire personal experience in the management of his estate, as well as to improve the characters and condition of his tenants and labourers. it happened one day, towards the end of summer, that a party who were friends of her son's, together with some older ones of her own, had been dining at her house, and the whole party had retired after dinner, to take their coffee in an open part of the grounds which commanded the best view both of the plain and of the mountains beyond it. the former was already involved in the shades of evening, which, gradually ascending the latter, soon reached the glaciers in the distance, and converted the roseate tint with which the last beams of the departing sun had invested them into that cold, lurid hue that heralds in the approaching night. the stars now began to appear, one by one, in the clear blue sky, and led the thoughts of many, if not all, of the party from nature up to nature's god. some of the younger ones, however, began to amuse themselves by counting them, as they came into view; and one or two, rather vain of their knowledge of astronomy, informed the others of their names. suddenly alfred exclaimed-"i can see one which is not to be found in the lists furnished by any astronomer, and yet it is by far the most brilliant." his friends thought that he was jesting, but yet attempted to discover it in the sky. "you are all looking too high," he said, laughing, and pointed to a distant mountain, where the fire of a charcoal burner had just made its appearance. the party gazed attentively for some time, when one of the ladies said, with a sigh-"poor man! how much he is to be pitied, sitting all alone up there!" "perhaps, madame, he is not so solitary as you imagine. the mountaineers of these parts seldom leave their village homes for the summer season without taking a bible with them, so that i trust it may be said of this one, even if his solitude is not sometimes broken by a passing visit from a goatherd, that he is never quite alone, for god is always near them that fear him." "that is a blessed thing indeed," said the lady; "but is he not in danger from the wolves?" "no, madame. first of all, the wolves are not so numerous about here as many persons think; and, even where they are more abundant, there are few, at this season, so pressed by hunger as to have the courage to attack a man; and besides, the fire itself would keep them at a distance. they have an instinctive dread of it." "so far so good, mr. alfred. still, if i were in the place of this man, i should not be quite at ease. i should every moment be expecting the approach of robbers." "robbers, madame, are very considerate people. they do not like to lose either their time or their labour. now, what could they find worth stealing from this poor charcoal burner?" "what? why, his money, to be sure!" "his money? if he happens to have any. he does not carry it with him into the forest, where he has no use for it, but leaves it at home with his wife." "a very good husband! but his watch?" "an article quite useless to him. he marks the time by the sun and stars; or, if the weather is cloudy, most of the mountain châlets are furnished with a small wooden clock, which holds out no great temptation to men whose thoughts are fixed upon the well-stored purses of travellers." "you have an answer for everything, mr. alfred. do you know the man?" "i cannot say that i do, madame. we have few, if any, charcoal burners in our domain. that mountain is at some distance, and he belongs most probably to another village. but i have had occasion to observe the habits of these mountaineers, and have acquired a tolerable knowledge of them generally." "and what can he possibly be doing at this hour, in that wild place?" "precisely what we are doing ourselves--he is watching his fire." after many other conjectures had been hazarded as to the way in which the charcoal burner was passing his time, madame de blénal said-"a truce with these idle fancies. our pastors in this canton are not idle, and our peasantry are generally well instructed in their christian duties, so i trust that he is better employed than any of you suppose. perhaps, at this moment, he is sitting with the bible on his knee, reading of the mercies of jesus, meditating upon them as he watches his fire, and lifting up his heart in prayer to him who alone is able to inspire it with holy thoughts and divine affections." "however," said the lady who had first begun the conversation, "i should really like to know what he is about. i wish some one could tell us who has actually seen him." "i can easily satisfy your curiosity, madame," said young alfred. "i have nothing to do but to mount my horse and gallop to the foot of the mountain. it will not be more than an hour's ride. i will then engage a guide to take me to the charcoal burner's hut, and, without losing a moment, i will find out what he was doing at nightfall." "are you not afraid of your son's undertaking such an enterprise at this late hour?" asked a young lady of madame de blénal. madame de blénal smiled, and replied, "no, mademoiselle. my son is well acquainted with the road. we are not infested with robbers in this canton, and, as the object of his pursuit is perfectly innocent, i can confide him to the protection of him on whom i know his own trust is constantly fixed. go, then, alfred, but exercise your usual prudence, and do not heedlessly expose yourself to danger." an old lady who had not yet spoken, but who knew how to "speak a word in season," then remarked, "place, each of you, a small sum of money in alfred's hands. if he finds the charcoal burner worthily employed, let him bestow it upon him. if otherwise, as some of you have supposed may be the case, let him bring it back, and restore to each one what he has contributed." every one readily agreed to the proposal. each drew out his purse, and alfred received a very respectable sum. he was leaving the party, when some one asked how soon they might expect him back? "by midnight," he replied. "and where shall we meet?" "here," said madame de blénal. "we will return into the house when alfred is gone, for the air is getting cold, and it will not be prudent to sit here any longer." alfred then set out; and as soon as the sound of his horse's hoofs was heard, the young men pulled out their watches, that the precise length of his absence might be ascertained when he returned. we will now leave madame de blénal to order supper for her party, and the remainder to amuse themselves with conversation, music, and such resources as her house afforded, while we accompany alfred on his nocturnal excursion. the moon had just begun to rise in full splendour above the mountains as he started, and to spread her silver light over the plain. this, together with the increasing freshness of the air, infused spirits into the rider as well as his horse. notwithstanding, however, the knowledge which both of them possessed of the road they had to traverse, they scarcely reached the foot of the mountain within the time upon which alfred had calculated. here were situated two or three picturesque cottages, inhabited by guides, one of whom was known to alfred by name. him therefore he sought out, and engaged to conduct him to the object of his journey. the man was rather surprised at a summons so late in the evening, and asked the traveller whether he had not better wait at his cottage till daybreak. "no," replied alfred; "i only wish to go as far as the charcoal burner's hut, whose fire can be seen for some miles off, and i must return to where i came from before midnight." "ah! my friend gervais. i know him well, sir. but it is a good way up the mountain, and if you have far to ride back, you will hardly keep to the time you have mentioned." "never mind," said the young man; "i must go on now. where can i put my horse?" "here in this shed, sir. there is a bit of hay and some beans, with which he can amuse himself while we are gone." the path was not steep, for it was cut in a zig-zag form, sometimes leading over pastures, and sometimes through woods so thick that the moonlight could not penetrate them; but the guide was provided with a torch of pine, to prevent the danger of a false step. for the first part of the journey they travelled on in silence, the guide amusing himself with forming conjectures as to the object of alfred's visit to the charcoal burner after night had set in. "can it be," he said to himself, "a relation from the indies, or from algeria? i never heard that gervais had any relations in those parts. or a creditor? no, that cannot be, for my honest friend, i am sure, does not owe any one a single penny. or has he gained a prize in the lottery? he would consider it a sin to risk the smallest fraction upon such a hazard. ah! perhaps some one has left him a legacy. so much the better, if it is so. i shall be well paid for the trouble i have had. he is too good a fellow not to reward me to the utmost of his power." thus it was that the guide employed himself in vain conjectures. when the uncertain light by which they travelled, whether of the moon or of the torch, fell sufficiently clear upon alfred's features, he examined them attentively, as if he could have read his secret in them. his curiosity made him not less impatient to reach the charcoal furnace than the young man himself. at length, by a sudden turn of the path, it appeared at once before them. the wood, heaped in the form of a cone, and covered with a thick coating of earth, was burning slowly, openings being made at different heights on the mound, to give a passage to the flames, and to afford a proper proportion of atmospheric air, to keep them alive. alfred, though born in the neighbourhood, had never before visited a charcoal furnace; but, new as the sight was to him, he did not pause long to observe it. his attention was arrested by the hut which stood near, built something in the form of a tent, and composed of planks leaning on both sides against a cross-beam, which rested on two others placed one at each end of the building. this kind of hut is common to most of the charcoal burners of these mountains, where they make their dwelling during the whole of the summer months, having no other bed than dried leaves--no other apparent occupation than cutting and piling up the wood, and watching their fires. one moment only alfred stopped to gaze upon this humble dwelling, compared with which the châlets of the cowherds were almost splendid mansions; the next instant, his attention was arrested by something far more interesting. a chorus of youthful voices burst upon his ears, accompanied by one deep, clear bass, which was powerful enough to support and regulate the trebles. they were singing the following hymn, to a beautiful swiss air, well known to alfred as one used in the churches of that protestant canton- "look to jesus, weary wanderer, sinful, wretched as thou art; he is precious; thou shalt know it; only trust his loving heart. "trust it wholly; it was broken that thine own might be at peace; every sin its streams atone for; he can bid all anguish cease. "now he reigns above the heavens, and shall reign for evermore; but his mighty arm is guarding those for whom he died before. "he shall come again in glory; all creation shall bow down; those who seek not his salvation must endure his awful frown. "wait upon him, then, his people; let him be your constant strength; lean upon him daily, hourly; ye shall reign with him at length. "may the spirit of adoption, which our heavenly father gives, help us all and each to please him more each moment of our lives." (_to be continued_.) envy shoots at others and wounds itself. we should often have reason to be ashamed of our most brilliant actions, if the world could see the motives from which they spring. scripture enigma. a parable from a farmer's son to all gleaners. i was born in a house where there were many fields attached--in fact, it was called a farm-house, so, from a boy, i well knew what a "gleaner" meant. i have seen all sizes in a field, picking up corn. but gleaning is not so general as it used to be. one reason is, many farmers are too covetous to leave much in their fields for gleaners. another is, many persons are too proud to be gleaners. but still there are many who are entitled to the character of "gleaner." now, gleaners, let us come a little closer. first, there must be the person known as the farmer; secondly, there must be the fields. these fields must be sown with corn. it must ripen, be cut and carried. then is the time for the gleaner to take his or her part. the gleaners must have a will, and patience to wait. they need eyes, hands, and feet. at the time the farmer's son is writing this, gleaning is over. it is winter. but he can tell gleaners of a farm containing sixty-six fields, some much larger than others, but all the fields grow the best corn that can be found at any market in the world. there is not one whole grass field found on the farm. there are a number of young and old people live near this farm, but they do not want to be gleaners. they look over the gates sometimes, but, having eyes so much like the mole, they either do not take that to be corn which is really so, or else they pursue other things they feel are so much better than gleaning in any of these fields; and not being very poor, but having enough gold to buy a few oxen, they tell some of the farmer's workmen they prefer _buying_ or _taking_ to gleaning, so they wish them "good morning"; but they are very polite to the men they join in conversation with. then there are other people near these fields who say they hate the great farmer. in fact, they are so evil-disposed that they talk freely of hating the fields and the corn too; and there is not one workman on the estate they will give a good word to. this the farmer's son can vouch for truth; and he has a good many brothers belonging to his family, who could be called as witnesses if there was any need. but we must not overlook others who live near the farm. most of them dwell in a very low-built house; there is no upstairs. they live on the ground floor, and not far from the spot where they dwell, some of the labourers on the farm live, and they join in conversation occasionally. but these poor people who dwell in the low-built cottages are shy, and think they take a liberty even in saying a few words to these labourers; and as for talking freely to the great farmer, they dare not. if he passes, they only bow before him and look on the ground. you would almost wonder how they are kept alive. they are nearly always hungry, but, now and then, they get just enough to keep them alive. when the "season" comes round, those that observe may soon find these are the old-fashioned gleaners. they possess willing legs, eyes, and hands. they use their legs by starting from their poor home; and, after walking some distance, the road brings them to this farm of sixty-six fields. these fields are all numbered. some look at one field, and some at another, but the hedges are all good. no one can get through them, and a high gate is at each entrance. one of the gleaners looked with a very wishful eye over the gate of the eighth field, and she desired to be among the gleaners, but there was a notice that "trespassers will be prosecuted." how earnestly the gleaner uses his eyes, and looks through the bars of the gate; but there are no ears of corn to be seen at present by him, so he cannot use his hands, though they are both ready to pick up; and the thought comes, "no doubt there will soon be plenty of corn seen, and, if i might, would i not pick up? i feel i would glean beside any gleaner. if he could pick faster than i, he would have to be very nimble. i do not know that the great landowner and farmer would allow me to go into his field. but, though my hands now hang down, and i cannot use them, i will go home and wait, and come again. if i cannot get admission to one field, i may to another. i should be happy if i could glean in the smallest field on the farm. perhaps, when i come again, that notice-board may be taken down. if so, i think i shall venture into no. 8 or 17; but should i not have nerve enough, i shall humbly ask one of the labourers, and if he says he does not know, i will, if an opportunity occurs, bow myself to the earth and ask the great owner. i have been told by some that he often appears as if he could not condescend to speak to those that live in such a low house, yet, if you press your suit, he will speak in the kindest manner, and ask what you really want." the farmer's son noticed, as this gleaner returned to his humble home, one of the labourers greeted him with a "good evening," and asked him why he looked so sad? he replied, "i have been a long journey to glean on the farm owned by your master, and i looked at the eighth field, but could not see that there were any ears of corn for me to pick up; and besides, i noticed a board, that 'trespassers will be prosecuted,' and thoughts would keep coming in my mind as i returned, that possibly i should never be admitted into any of the fields as a gleaner." the labourer said, "you must not faint, but, as soon as the sun rises in the morning, try and find the forty-second field, and most probably you will find the gate open. if, as you enter, the first part of the field looks bare, walk to almost the middle, and i think you will find some gleanings to pick up." he returned thanks, bowed, and they parted. the next morning, as soon as the sun was up, he arose and did as he was bid. after reaching the field, he found the part where the ears of corn lay, and he picked up as many as he needed. on his return, he met several other gleaners who were seeking a field to glean in. he bade them go to the same one where he had picked up an armful, and there they would find the result of perseverance. the parable is closed for this time. will any reader, under twelve years of age, expound it? who are the farmer and the son? who are the labourers and gleaners? what are the sixty-six fields? and what are the names of those specially referred to? search from genesis to revelation. your true friend, the farmer's son (_over fifteen years old_). [a volume, "the loss of all things for christ," will be given for the best answer. the writer must be under twelve.] bible subjects for each sunday in january. jan. 1. commit to memory 1 chrn. v. 10. jan. 8. commit to memory psa. cxi. 10. jan. 15. commit to memory prov. viii. 10. jan. 22. commit to memory prov. viii. 32. jan. 29. commit to memory john iv. 10. what the world calls virtue is a name and a dream without christ. the foundation of all human excellence must be laid deep in the blood of the redeemer's cross and in the power of his resurrection.--_robertson._ an old quilt and its story. among all the beautiful needlework exhibited in the "woman's industry department" of the recent edinburgh exhibition, many must have observed a bed-quilt worked in a quaint conventional pattern, on a white linen ground, which bore a label to the effect that it was "designed and commenced by a countess of aberdeen towards the middle of the last century, and recently completed by a crofter woman in aberdeenshire." could the quilt tell its own tale, its history, no doubt, would be most pathetic and interesting; but we will try, with the knowledge we have, to lightly sketch that history. the countess who commenced it was anne, daughter of alexander, second duke of gordon. the third wife of william, earl of aberdeen, she was still a young woman when, by his death in 1745, she was left a widow. quitting haddo, the home of her married life, she went with her young family to reside in the fine old historic castle of fyvie, a few miles distant, which, with her dower, had been bought by the earl as her jointure house. the countess seems to have been gifted with artistic tastes, as she left in haddo many evidences of her skill and industry--several sets of beautifully-worked curtains, with long-forgotten curious stitches, producing varied and admirable effects. but the bright, pretty industry of the countess was checked. sickness, to be followed by death, entered her home. we may fancy that by her husband's sick-bed the first beginning of this quilt was made--how, in the intervals of watching the invalid, a few sprays and scrolls were delicately traced. but the summons had gone forth, and, as death approached, the work, which had been in part the occupation of happier days, and a resource in affliction, was thrown aside. when the widowed countess had settled in a new home, and again faced the ordinary duties of life, we need not wonder that she thought no more of the discarded work left at haddo house, but set herself to design afresh and embroider the curtains which have ever since (until recently) adorned a bed-room in fyvie castle. into these no doubt was woven many a thought for the jacobite cause, and many an anxiety for dear ones, as her own family, the ducal house of gordon, had been keen supporters of the stuarts, and it is said that the countess came out on the road-side, near fyvie castle, with her children, to see the duke of cumberland's troops pass on their way to culloden to put down the scotch rebellion, and boldly avowed to him her sympathy with his foe. but what of the work the countess left at haddo house? as to it, our history is silent for more than a hundred years. it has lain folded by the fingers of the busy worker that have long been still. sorrow and joy have come by turns to the house--birth and death. children have prattled, and statesmen have discussed the affairs of nations. those who have made history have come and gone; philanthropy and romance have alike been woven into the family story; but the piece of discarded broderie has been unheeded. at length the present countess of aberdeen, whose name will ever be associated with earnest desire and effort for the good of others, and whose taste and love of the beautiful led to her interest in such work, unfolding the long-forgotten quilt, conceived the idea of having it completed, if possible. to whom, however, could the beautiful work be entrusted to be finished, by deft fingers and graceful appreciation? [illustration: interior of a crofter's cottage.] we now turn to another scene. about five-and-twenty years ago, on the top of a bare hill in fyvie, aberdeenshire, stood a cottage, tenanted by a crofter named sandieson, with his wife and family. though at a comparatively high elevation, the land around was all cultivated, but, arid and stony as the soil was, it seemed as if cultivation were one long struggle against nature, rather than aided by it. life was hard; still, contentment sweetened the peasant's lot, and they got on pretty well till sickness during three successive winters told hardly on his means. father, mother, and children all worked; still the wolf was at the door. bed clothing was scant, and money to buy still scantier. a mother's love and care quickened thought. the woman, as she tells her story, bethought herself what she could do for bedding for a covering against cold. scraps she had, bits of old clothes and stockings, and tacked them together, fold upon fold, to attain a certain thickness; then, buying a pennyworth of log-wood, and with it dyeing what had once been a tartan shawl, but which had long lost all its colour, she spread it over her scraps for a cover. but, alas! the holes were but too apparent. necessity again quickened invention. she selected some of the better pieces of the old garments, cut them into the shape of leaves and birds, and laid them on the holes, adding one or two more for uniformity, and then, with a darning needle and "fingering" wool, she veined the leaves and made effective marking on the birds. such was her first attempt at fancy work. an admiring neighbour asked her to do a similar quilt for her, offering some scraps of new material. another commission followed, this time with the offer of green wool for leaves. but one cold, hard green did not please the worker, now growing daily more experienced and critical, so a visit was made to the little country town a few miles distant, in search of greater variety in greens and browns, the appreciation of nature's varied tints becoming daily stronger and clearer. about this time, a lady to whom the woman had taken some work, on sight gave her a quantity of old floss silks. the possession of these was a new power to her, and from that time she rapidly acquired a skill in shading leaves and flowers with a beauty which it is impossible to describe. a farmer from a little distance, having heard of her work, went to see her. after looking at what, to him, seemed so marvellous, he turned to her, and said, "well, well, it's wonderful! but you will have to do no more rough work to keep your hands fit for this; and how will that do with the croft?" "indeed, sir," was her reply, "it would never do. but i assure you this is not my only work, for i have just finished building a hundred and thirty-four yards of a stone dyke with my own hands. my husband had work elsewhere, which he could not afford to miss. the cattle were straying where they should not, so i have just built it myself, the children helping me by handing up the smaller stones." after gaining some experience, mrs. sandieson gave up the earlier style of work with which she had begun, and devoted herself almost entirely to embroidery in silks. she has trained a daughter, who lives with her, to work as well as herself, and no description can do justice to the beauty of their finer work. their designs are, with very few exceptions, their own, and many of their pieces are singularly beautiful. they have even copied the plate representing a peacock on a branch of a tree, from gould's "asiatic birds," and no one but those who have seen it, could believe in the wondrous working of the bird, and in the feathers of the neck, with the faint change of tint where it catches the light as the bird turns its head. it is marvellous! but copying flowers from nature is what they chiefly do, and their careful observation and fidelity in representation are very characteristic in their work. trails of thunbergia, scarlet tropæolum, apple blossom, cherry, and bramble; willow, with its catkins, a little titmouse on the branch; snowberry, with a robin perched on it; the red and white lapageria, eucalyptus, pepper tree, and others are some of their subjects. and this is what the crofter's wife, who commenced with the old dyed shawl for a foundation, has, totally unaided, taught herself and her daughter to accomplish; and this is the crofter's wife who, one hundred and forty years afterwards, was employed by lady aberdeen to finish the quilt which the countess of 1745 had commenced. is there not a little pathos in the history of a piece of work begun and completed in such different circumstances? the work of these peasant-artists, mother and daughter, is now very well known among ladies in aberdeenshire, and has lately been brought under the notice of her majesty, who condescended to purchase largely of it; but the writer believes the quilt shown by lady aberdeen, in edinburgh, to be the only specimen that has been exhibited publicly.--_ladies' treasury._ wonderful grace. john dickson, a farmer in the parish of ratho, near edinburgh, was long a stranger to the riches of divine grace. he paid no regard to the sacred ordinances, or, if ever on the lord's day he entered the house of god, it was more for a desire of ridiculing than profiting by what he heard. the word preached did not profit him, not being mixed with faith. in this dreadful situation was he when his wife died, after bringing into the world an infant daughter. the good providence of that gracious god who calleth the weak things of this world to confound the strong had ordained that the nurse of this child should be a woman of exemplary faith, who walked in the spirit, being sanctified by the holy ghost. the carnal mind of the father still continued at enmity with god; but he was, ere long, to be brought to a full conviction of his own unworthiness, and a delightful experience of the riches of redeeming love. the child, being now about twenty months old, and beginning to prattle a few words, was one day sent for by her father, who was sitting after dinner with some of his profane acquaintances. to his great astonishment the child repeated, two or three times, in its infant tones, "oh, the grace of god!" these words made a deep impression upon the father. he began to reflect upon his sins, and the power of that grace which cleanseth from sin, so long the subject of his impious ridicule. the holy ghost had opened his heart, and now brought him, like a sheep that had been astray, into the fold of divine love. since that time he has walked as becometh one called in the lord, bringing forth fruit meet for repentance. the words which, through the grace of god, became the happy instrument of his conversion were the customary ejaculation of the godly nurse, and had thus been learned by the infant. so truly was the scripture verified that "out of the mouths of babes and sucklings the lord hath ordained praise." r. endeavor to be always patient of the faults and imperfections of others, for thou hast many faults and imperfections of thy own that require a reciprocation of forbearance. if thou art not able to make thyself that which thou wishest to be, how canst thou expect to mould another in conformity to thy will?--_thomas à kempis._ my stage-coach companion. it was on a dull, chilly morning, i remember, that i left my country home by the coach which was to convey me to london. i was then about twenty years of age. i had never before been very far, or very long absent from my father's house; and my young mind was filled with thoughts of the pleasures in store for me in a long visit i was about to pay to my london relations. among the enjoyments i most reckoned on, apart from the society of my aunt and cousins, were those of the theatre, balls, and evening parties. very different engagements these, from the domestic duties and rural recreations to which i had been accustomed in a retired country residence. thoughts like these had softened the pain of separation from my kind and indulgent parents; but there were tears in my eyes on bidding them farewell, and i was glad to let fall my veil, to hide them from the only passenger in the coach. this passenger was a gentleman of middle age, well wrapped up in a greatcoat of rather formal cut, and with a clerical-looking hat on his head. he had a pleasant, though a rather serious expression of countenance, as he lifted his eyes from the book he was reading. it was not long before he shut up the book, and made some remarks about the weather and the scenery. a short silence followed, which was broken by my fellow-traveller saying that he had just been passing a few weeks in a watering-place which i knew to be a fashionable one. "i have never been there," i said. "i suppose it is a very gay place, sir?" "it is a fine town, and the country around it is very beautiful," said the gentleman. this was not the answer i expected, and i varied my question by referring to the visitors and places of amusement, particularly mentioning the theatre and the public assemblies. the stranger smiled pleasantly, and said, "i saw only the outside of the theatre; but during my stay there i was present at several public assemblies." "how very enchanting they must be!" i remarked, with youthful ardour. "i am not sure that 'enchanting' is quite the right word," he said, looking thoughtful; "but they were very delightful, certainly." "they were crowded, i suppose, sir?" "yes, generally," he said, and added that, at the last of these public assemblies, there were present more than a thousand people. this seemed to me to be a great number, and to need a large assembly room to hold them. i made some remark which led him to say that no doubt there were many varieties of character present, and of different degrees in life. "but," he added, "i have reason to know that many honourable personages were to be met with there, and even the king himself was there." "the king, sir? i did not know that the king ever visited ----"; and i began to feel incredulous. i was not so ignorant as not to know that king george the fourth, in whose reign we were then living, had for some time almost secluded himself from his subjects, and resided generally at windsor. "i see," continued the stranger, speaking more earnestly and seriously than before, "that you do not quite understand me; and i apprehend that we have each been using the same words to express a different set of ideas on which our minds have been fixed." "i do not understand you, sir," i said, rather coldly. "permit me, madam, to explain. i am a minister of the gospel. the public assemblies of which i have been speaking are the assembling together of those who meet for god's worship and service; the honourable persons to whom i referred are those whom the bible calls the children of god; and the king whom i believe to have been present at these assemblies is he who is 'king of kings and lord of lords,' who himself has told us that, where two or three are gathered together in his name, there he is in the midst of them." there was such kindness and courtesy and respect in the gentleman's manner, that i could not feel vexed at his having spoken in a sort of parable, so i smiled, and said, "i had no idea that you were a minister, sir." "i am glad that you are not angry with me, young lady," said he, "for having wilfully misinterpreted your questions. you know it is 'out of the abundance of the heart' that 'the mouth speaketh'; and when you got into the coach i was engaged in thought, studying a subject which i hope to speak about next sunday; and, singularly, this subject is so far like that which has engaged a few minutes of our conversation, as that it refers to an assembly, though one of a very superior character to any the world has ever seen or known." "may i ask, sir, what assembly it is you mean?" "certainly," replied he; and taking from his pocket a new testament, he opened it and read, "ye are come unto mount sion, and unto the city of the living god, the heavenly jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born which are written in heaven, and to god, the judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of abel." having read this, my fellow-traveller again put up his book, and there was a short silence between us, until he said, "that is the text, madam. do you think it possible for any preacher to do justice to it?" "i do not know indeed, sir," i said; and i added (what i truly thought) that the words struck me as being very beautiful. "they are indeed beautiful, and magnificent, and solemn," he said; and he continued to remark that they were highly calculated to arouse in the mind emotions of no ordinary nature. did i not think so? i hesitated what to reply, for i shrank from expressing sentiments which i did not really feel. doubtless he saw my embarrassment, and, instead of pressing for an answer, he asked me if he might mention a few of the thoughts which had passed through his mind, as he had pondered over the passage. i said, if he pleased to do so, i should be glad to hear him, and accordingly he went on-"i suppose that the words i have read referred not so much to the future, as to the present position or condition of those to whom they were addressed, and that they may be applied also to certain characters at the present time. i have no doubt, madam, that you understand of what characters i speak?" "i could not misunderstand you," i said. "of course you mean christians?" "yes; of all true christians it may be said that they are come to mount sion. all who truly believe in christ live under a dispensation of mercy. they are even now 'fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of god.' their names are enrolled in the lamb's book of life; angels are their invisible attendants; they are united in spirit to 'jesus, the mediator of the new covenant'; they are admitted into the gracious presence of the father, 'the judge of all,' so as to find access at every hour to god within the veil; and they have even now received the atonement, 'the blood of sprinkling,' by which their polluted consciences are cleansed and purified. these are great and exalted privileges, are they not?" "yes, sir," i said, feeling as i said it how incapable i was of appreciating them. the stranger did not notice my hesitation, however, but went on with still more animation-"i cannot help thinking that more than i have mentioned is implied in the words which you justly think so beautiful, and that the writer had in his mind the future as well as the present life. the final and everlasting _residence_ of all believers, after all the cares and toils of their earthly pilgrimage are past, is to be mount sion, the city of the living god, the heavenly jerusalem; part of their _employment_ will be holy and devout adoration; their _society_, myriads of angels and a vast assembly of the perfected spirits of the just; the _chief source of their happiness_ will be the presence of 'the judge of all,' in 'jesus the mediator'; and the cause of all this blessedness is indicated in the closing words--'the blood of sprinkling,' or the atonement of jesus." i was interested, and wished he would continue. probably he could see that i was not unwilling to listen, for, after the pause of a minute or two, he began to expatiate a little on some of the ideas he had already expressed. he spoke of the unbroken repose and perfect security of the city of god, and then of the happy employments of the great assembly in heaven. here he drew a contrast between the amusements of the world and the enjoyments of the heavenly state, and added that, to worldly and unsanctified minds, these enjoyments had no attractions. "those who live only for this life," he said, "cannot conceive of any pleasure to be found in heavenly adoration and praise. accustomed to account the sabbath of the lord a weariness, and devotional services irksome and tedious, it cannot appear to them desirable to enter upon a state of existence in which the worship of the almighty is one of the choicest occupations of its inhabitants. nor can we wonder," continued my companion, "that it should be thus, so long as the heart remains at enmity with god, while the affections are earthly and sensual, and where there is no fear of god, no love to god, no delight in god, no earnest desire to serve and honour him. am i not right?" the stranger asked, fixing his eyes upon me. "yes, sir, i think you are," i replied, faintly; and, after some further conversation on the same subjects, my fellow-traveller told me that he was going only to the end of the present stage. "there we shall part," he said, "and possibly we shall not meet again in this world; but if, by divine grace, we should be fellow-heirs of the same glorious inheritance, we _shall_ meet in that general assembly." these were almost the last words he spoke, for, in a few minutes, the coach stopped, and the stranger, alighting and bidding me farewell, disappeared. many years passed away, and i was a happy wife and mother. my husband was a true and earnest christian; and i--yes (and therein was my happiness), i, too, was a believer in christ. my christian life had been, in some respects, an eventful one. my first steps in it had been beset with difficulties and no ordinary opposition; but patience was given me to endure; strength, to overcome; and, blessed be god, my heart's desire and prayer to him on behalf of some very dear to me had, i trust, been heard and answered. my conversion was in part, at least, the result of the stage-coach conversation i have recorded. god, in his infinite mercy, by means of the words of a stranger, called me to consideration. the holy spirit showed me my miserable condition, as being "a lover of pleasures more than a lover of god." through a long, dark passage of soul-distress and great conflict i was led into the light and faith of the glorious gospel--from the thunders of sinai to "mount sion, the city of the living god; to jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling." one thing troubled me--or, if not troubled exactly, left within me an unsatisfied desire. for years i had longed to see, to meet once more, the stranger who had so kindly and so wisely invited my attention to religion. i wished to hear his voice again, and to tell him what the lord had done for my soul. sometimes, indeed, i recalled his parting words with something like awe, though yet with a thrill of pleasurable assurance--"possibly we shall not meet again in this world; but if, by divine grace, we should be fellow-heirs of the same glorious inheritance, we shall meet in that general assembly." "annie," said my husband one day--he had an open letter in his hand--"a visitor is coming, whom i shall be very glad for you to know--my old friend and pastor, mr. j----"; and he put the letter into my hands. it was a short note, merely stating that, finding he should be at a certain time within easy reach of my husband's home, the writer would, if he might, avail himself of the opportunity of renewing the personal intercourse which time and distance had so long interrupted. a few days later, a chaise drove to our door, and my husband, eager to welcome his old friend, met him in the hall, where i also was waiting to receive him. he was an elderly man, but with a firm step, a strong frame, a pleasant smile, a kindly voice, and a benevolent countenance. "annie, my dear, this is----" i cannot go on to describe a scene in which i became all at once and unexpectedly so personally interested. in my husband's friend i recognized, at a single glance, my stage-coach companion, though he had no recollection of me. it was a happy meeting--the faint foreshadowing, it may be, of such meetings innumerable in that general assembly in the heavenly jerusalem above, when they who have sown, and those who have reaped, shall rejoice together with "joy unspeakable and full of glory."--_a tract issued by the religious tract society._ answer to bible enigma. (_page 275._) "_i am the rose of sharon._"--song of solomon ii. 1. i ssachar genesis xxxv. 23. a biram numbers xxvi. 9. m icah judges xvii. 1. t irzah 1 kings xvi. 6. h oreb exodus iii. 1. e bal joshua viii. 30. r ehoboam 1 kings xi. 43. o g numbers xxi. 33. s hammah 1 samuel xvii. 13. e dom 2 samuel viii. 14. o nan genesis xlvi. 12. f elix acts xxiv. 25. s imon mark iii. 18. h adadezer 2 samuel viii. 3. a maziah amos vii. 10. r aven leviticus xi. 15. o bed-edom 2 samuel vi. 11. n adab numbers iii. 4. ada willerton (aged 9 years). _corby, grantham._ i have found, by a strict and diligent observation, that a due observance of the duty of sunday has ever had joined to it a blessing upon the rest of my time.--_sir matthew hale._ our bible class. the cross of christ. the "cross of christ" is mentioned by the apostle paul in his epistles to different churches, but we may confidently say that the wooden gibbet upon which the saviour suffered was never loved or reverenced by that honoured servant of the lord, or the people to whom he wrote. the brazen serpent, that divinely appointed means of israel's cure, was broken in pieces by good hezekiah, who contemptuously called it a bit of brass, because the israelites worshipped it; and their idolatry is described as a base crime in 2 kings xviii. 4, although it was a figure of him that was to come; and jesus himself declared, "as moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life" (john iii. 14, 15); and the "true cross," if it now existed, would only be a bit of wood--a thing in itself worthless--and the adoration of it would be nothing better than idolatry. "christ and him crucified" is the sinner's hope, the believer's joy, and this is what we are to understand by the apostolic mention of the cross of jesus. the cross was the sign, the illustration, of his sufferings and death. crucifixion was most painful and most shameful, and both these facts appear in hebrews xii. 2. he "endured the cross, despising the shame." with the hands and feet nailed to the cross, and the weight of the body borne by those pierced hands, the sufferer, who generally was first cruelly scourged, expired after long, lingering torture; and it was a shameful death, to which only the lowest and worst of men were supposed to be sentenced. yet jesus, the high and holy one, "humbled himself unto death, even the death of the cross." but there was deep spiritual meaning in all this. "tribulation and anguish" (rom. ii. 9), sorrow and death, are sin's reward. "dying, thou shalt die" (gen. ii. 17, margin) is the divine sentence upon every transgressor, and "sin is a reproach to any people" (prov. xiv. 34). "shame and everlasting contempt" will be the sinner's recompense. and jesus was his people's surety and substitute. he stood for them; he took their place. the just one suffered for the unjust. the king of glory bore reproach and shame for the sake of the sinners he eternally loved, that whosoever believeth in him should have everlasting life, glory, and joy (dan. xii. 2). "the death of the cross," as jesus suffered it, involved the shedding of blood, and "the blood is the life." "he poured out his soul unto death." "he gave his life a ransom for many," because "without shedding of blood there is no remission," no forgiveness of sin. but crucifixion, unlike many violent deaths, did not divide or dismember the body. in stoning, the back was often broken; by other modes of execution, the head was cut off, the neck broken, or the body otherwise mutilated. the legs of the crucified might be broken to hasten death, but this was no necessary part of the sentence; and concerning jesus it was prophesied, "none of his bones shall be broken" (psa. xxxiv. 20; john xix. 36). and this also was fraught with deep spiritual meaning. that bruised and torn, yet perfect body which hung on the cross, and was laid in the grave, was but a picture of that holy soul, that perfect spirit, which he yielded up to god. how clear was his memory! that the scripture might be fulfilled, he said, "i thirst." how perfect his love! he prayed for his executioners; he remembered mary. how full his knowledge of his people, and how perfect his confidence in himself! he blessed the penitent thief, and assured him of a home with himself in heaven. oh, wondrous sufferer! almighty saviour! none ever died as jesus died, bearing sin and guilt away, and overcoming death, while he laid down his sacred life. the cross of christ has a mighty influence upon all who believe on his name. paul said, with holy earnestness, "god forbid that i should glory in anything but the cross of our lord jesus christ, by which the world is crucified unto me, and i unto the world" (gal. vi. 14). once, as a pharisee, he loved the world--the religious world--the esteem of men, the applause of his fellow-pharisees; but now they hated and persecuted him, and he despised their favour. so, if we are led to behold by faith jesus crucified for us, the sins, the pleasures, and the friendships of the world will lose their power and attractions, and the love of christ will constrain us to live to him who died and rose again for us. we find that, when the apostles were first beaten and threatened for preaching the gospel, "they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his sake" (acts v. 40, 41). they knew that jesus loved and gave himself for them, and they, out of love to their saviour, were willing to lay down their lives for his sake, or to live despised and hated by the world. before he died, christ said, "if any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." he foresaw his own sufferings from the first, but the joy that was set before him animated him all the while, and, as his people's leader, he says, "follow me, and enter at last into my joy." but jesus never said, "take up my cross." oh, no! his cross he alone could bear! his saving sufferings he only could endure! it is our own cross that we are called to bear as his followers, and his love will strengthen and support us. oh, that we may indeed know him as our once crucified, but now exalted saviour, and follow him through all life's changes to the bright home whither he has gone, living henceforth to him, and him alone. our next subject will be, psalm xxxii. your loving friend, h. s. l. prize essay. how to live well. we cannot live well without we acknowledge god in all our ways. a christian cannot exist without prayer. thus, in 1 thessalonians v. 17, it says, "pray without ceasing," which shows us that we cannot live well without prayer. to live well also means that we should obey and honour our parents, as enjoined in ephesians vi. 1, 2, and make ourselves useful to those that surround us. and, in 2 thessalonians iii. 13, it says, "brethren, be not weary in well doing." jesus christ has also set a pattern, for he was always doing good. he even came into this world to die for sinners. as jane taylor says-"jesus, who lived above the sky, came down to be a man, and die; and in the bible we may see how very good he used to be. "and so he died; and this is why he came to be a man, and die: the bible says he came from heaven that sinners' sins might be forgiven." if we are taught to live a christian life--to trust in, and fear god--he will be sure to provide for our every want. to live well is to try and always do the things that are just, treating people with respect, and to love those who hate us, and those who despitefully use us, for jesus christ's sake. he says, in john xv. 20, "remember the word that i said unto you, the servant is not greater than his lord. if they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my sayings, they will keep yours also." if we wish to live well, we must seek god in little things as well as in larger things; for he takes account of the thoughts, words, and actions of men, which are to be revealed at the last day. living well also means that we should do those things that are pleasing in god's sight; for if we love and serve him truly, we shall be happy here and in the life to come, for the righteous christ will gather as his jewels at the great judgment day, and they will be happy for evermore in that beautiful heaven which jesus has prepared for those who love him, and do his will; for jesus says, in john xiv. 3, "if i go to prepare a place for you, i will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where i am, there ye may be also." to live well is to live as expecting every day to be our last, and to be looking for that time when the trump of the archangel shall sound, and all the dead arise from their graves. we do not know the day, nor the hour, when the son of man shall come to judge the quick and the dead, for it says, in matthew xxiv. 36, "but of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels in heaven, but my father only." newton expresses in the following verse some good thoughts upon the right way to learn how to live, and that is, by seeking god's direction-"show me what i have to do; every hour my strength renew; let me live a life of faith; let me die thy people's death." lilly rush (aged 13 years). _red house, thornham, near eye, suffolk._ [there have been several creditable essays sent, but none that have reached the desired mark. we may mention those by ernest sawyer, margaret creasey, e. b. knocker, jane bell, maria reeder, e. t. mann, edith hirst, ella saunders, w. b. beckwith (aged 11 years), a. pease, sarah hicks, and jesse hammond. the age of the writer must always be given.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of the little gleaner (cloth). the subject for march will be, "self-help," and a kind friend has promised a copy of "from the loom to a lawyer's gown; or, self-help that was not all for self," for the best essay. we hope we shall have some good essays on the subject. all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of february.] a child's prayer. suitable for the new year. oh, blessed jesus, care for me, and wash me in thy blood; teach me to ever look to thee, and help me to be good. give me thy holy spirit, lord, and teach me how to pray; oh, let me understand thy word, and take my sins away. whene'er i'm tempted to do wrong, oh, let me think of thee; help me to always guard my tongue, when naughty i would be. teach me to tread the narrow way, which all thy saints have trod; and guard and guide me every day; be thou my lord and god. help me to trust in thee alone, and not have fear of men; to seek thy will before my own, for jesus' sake. amen. jane bell (aged 14 years). _sleaford._ interesting items. a rarely-blooming flower.--in one of the conservatories at hamilton palace gardens there is a fine specimen of the _angeavia variegata_ in full bloom. the tradition is, that the plant only flowers once in a hundred years. steam heating and electric lighting of trains is receiving very close attention from a number of the leading railway managers in the united states. on some roads the change has been decided upon, and cars are being reconstructed on the new plans as rapidly as possible. pilots' pay.--from london to gravesend the pilot's fee may range from 18s. to £7 18s., and from gravesend to the nore from £1 12s. to £7 8s.; and while a vessel drawing less than seven feet of water is piloted from the downs to the isle of wight for £3 4s., one that draws twenty-five feet will cost for the same distance, either way, as much as £14 6s. romanism in america is throwing off its sheep's clothing, and revealing its wolfish nature. the following is an extract from one of its journals, the _western watchman_--"protestantism! we would draw and quarter it. we would impale it and hang it up for crows' nests. we would tear it with pincers, and fire it with hot irons. we would fill it with molten lead, and sink it in hell fire a hundred fathoms deep." only the genius that invented the multiform cruelties of the inquisition could express itself in such an infernally varied vocabulary of torture. the warrant for bunyan's last imprisonment.--among the chauncy collection of autographs recently dispersed by messrs. sotheby, there lay, hidden and unnoticed, the original warrant under which bunyan was apprehended for that third and final imprisonment of some six months' duration, during which, according to his latest biographer, he wrote the first part of "the pilgrim's progress." it fills a half-sheet of foolscap, and is dated march 4th, 1674-5, under the hands and seals of twelve justices, six of them, either then or in the parliament of 1678, members for county or borough, and three of whom had originally committed him for the previous twelve years' imprisonment. composition during sleep.--lord thurlow told his nephew that, when young, he read much at night, and that once, while at college, having been unable to complete a particular line in a latin poem he was composing, it rested so on his mind that he dreamed of it, completed it in his sleep, wrote it out next morning, and received many compliments on its classical and felicitous turn. in my own experience, i have imagined myself, during sleep, to be listening to instrumental music quite new to me, and have been able to reproduce the melody next day; and i have now in my possession a ms. copy of a dead march composed by the author, from whom i had it, in a dream.--_correspondent of "notes and queries._" the dangers of eating orange peel.--it is a very bad habit to eat orange peel. nor is the juvenile habit of eating apples with the peel on to be recommended either. parents who do not care as yet to correct these evil propensities will perhaps be more inclined to do so when they hear that the little black specks which may be found on the skins of oranges and apples that have been kept some time are clusters of fungi, precisely similar to those to which whooping-cough is attributed. dr. tschamer, of graz, who has made the discovery, scraped some of these black specks off an orange, and introduced them into his lungs by a strong inspiration. next day he was troubled with violent tickling in the throat, which by the end of the week had developed into an acute attack of whooping-cough. a brave child.--one day recently at sandown, while a gentleman was showing his little girl how lion, a splendid st. bernard dog, and a great favourite in the family, caught pieces of biscuit in his mouth, the poor child stole up to put her arm round the dog's neck. unhappily lion was so engrossed, he never heard the fairy footstep. taking the little face for a dainty morsel intended for him, he sharply closed his large teeth in the tender cheek and nostril. elsie bravely struggled to conceal the blood which fast flowed from the wound, and assured her mother without a tear that she was "far more frightened than hurt." lion, who had been taught to apologise for wrong-doing by standing up, at once assumed that plaintive attitude, while elsie entreated his master not to punish him, as she knew "it was all a mistake." the little face is still strapped up, but as the dog was perfectly healthy, the only fear entertained is that a permanent mark may be left there. one lasting impression was certainly made. the self-control and calmness of the mother, who saw the sharp, sudden bite inflicted on her only child, and the unflinching courage displayed by elsie while she pleaded for the dumb friend who had so unwittingly injured her, will never be forgotten by lion's master or any one who witnessed the unfortunate incident.--_lady's pictorial._ the general and the sparrow.--general robert e. lee was one of the bravest soldiers and ablest leaders of the southern states armies in the great american civil war. along with an almost culpable indifference to danger he joined an intense love for animals and a deep feeling for the helpless, as the following story will show. he was once visiting a battery near richmond, in virginia, when the soldiers (with whom he was immensely popular) crowded round him, and thus offered a good target for the enemy's fire. lee at once bade them retire to the rear, out of reach of harm. the men did so, but--as if unaware of the risk he ran--he walked across the yard, and picked up some object from the ground, and put it on a tree branch above his head. it was afterwards found that this object was an unfledged sparrow, which had fallen out of its nest, and which the general had restored to its home at such imminent danger to himself. the end of a dog's quarrel.--one day, a fine newfoundland dog and a mastiff had a sharp discussion over a bone, and warred away as angrily as two boys. they were fighting on a bridge, and before they knew it, over they went into the water. the banks were so high that they were forced to swim some distance before they came to a landing-place. it was very easy for the newfoundlander. he was as much at home in the water as a seal. but not so poor bruce. he struggled and tried to swim, but made little headway. the newfoundland dog quickly reached the land, and then turned to look at his old enemy. he saw plainly that his strength was fast failing, and that he was likely to drown, so what should the noble fellow do but plunge in, seize him gently by the collar, and, keeping his nose above water, tow him safely into port. it was funny to see these dogs look at each other as they shook their wet coats. their glance said as plainly as words, "we'll never quarrel any more." the following tragical story of a pen is deeply interesting, since to an instrument in itself so humble the death of a little liverpool schoolboy is due. the lad, sitting at his desk at st. anthony's school, saw on the floor a piece of paper which he wished to pick up. to leave his right hand free he put his pen in his breast pocket. he was sitting at the end of a bench, from which, in stooping, he fell to the floor. the weight of his body fell on the point of the pen. the nib pierced the poor little fellow's heart. amid the silent work of the writing lesson his cry of agony rang out with startling effect, and a whole town, hearing of a boy's death from such a cause, shares the painful surprise of the school-room. the one ray of relief in this painful story shines over the grief-stricken home. the public sympathy directed to this house, finds it inhabited by a struggling widow, with four young children still surviving. a subscription is forthwith got up for her benefit, and the son's death is likely to be the means of saving the mother from destitution. the manchester ship canal will be a stone-banked stream, 25 feet in depth, and at least 120 feet in width, supplied with numerous docks, crossed by lofty bridges for trains, and swing-bridges for road traffic, and forming a waterway in which the biggest steamships and sailing vessels will be able to pass one another at a fair speed. it will be wider and deeper than the suez canal, and will depend for its construction chiefly on the huge steam excavators, which are a kind of cross between cranes and the dredgers we see in rivers and harbours, and which remove a cubic yard of soil at a time. it will enable manchester to send her calicoes direct to all quarters of the globe, and will tap the chemical region of runcorn, and the salt districts of cheshire, saving the present cost of transhipment of a million tons per annum of the latter condiment. nearly 20,000 men will find employment for the next four years in the construction of this big canal for the passage of ocean ships between liverpool and manchester. the first sod has been quietly cut with a navvy's spade by lord egerton of tatton, the chairman of the company, in the presence of twenty directors and a few shareholders, at eastham, where the canal will lead out of the mersey. hanover baptist sunday school, tunbridge wells.--the half-yearly meeting of the above school was held on wednesday, october 26th. the meeting was presided over by the superintendent, who in a few opening remarks urged the parents to try and send their children to school in time, and in the morning as well as the afternoon; after which the children recited their various pieces to the pastor, mr. newton. mr. botten then proceeded to give away the rewards, which he said he hoped they would prize, and lend to their brothers and sisters to read if they wanted them; and he hoped they would never read the pernicious books and periodicals that found such favour amongst boys in our day, but, if they were offered a book to read, to show it to father and mother, and, if they did not mind their reading it, then all right. in conclusion, he wished the teachers god-speed in the work. mr. saltmarsh and mr. house also gave parcels of books away, and a pleasant meeting was brought to a close by singing the hymn, "around the throne of god in heaven," mr. newton concluding with prayer. each child received a bun on departing. w. l. w. [illustration: "paper, sir?" (_see page 26._)] what a tract may do. often, as we journey from place to place by rail, we notice with peculiar interest the newsboys at the different stations as they politely inquire, "paper, sir?" and, as we think what advantages they have of reading the different kinds of papers and books which pass through their hands, we wonder, as we look upon them, what kind of reading they prefer, good or bad; and, from the appearance of many, we fear it is the latter. we know that many young people of both sexes prefer light, foolish, and fictitious books, over which they spend a lot of their precious time, reading made-up tales--things that never occurred--and we say, what a pity that they should thus waste their time in doing worse than nothing, when they might be storing their minds with useful knowledge! we hope our young friend in the illustration is not one of these, for, as we look upon his open and pleasant countenance, we are inclined to believe he is not, in mind, of such a low order; and, while he may have to carry books and papers which we should advise him never to read, we can but reflect as to the power for good of such an agency, if used for the spread of pure scriptural truth. oh, that it were so! who can tell, if good books and tracts were thus scattered, what good might result therefrom? we have read with pleasure, and here give to our readers, the following narrative, showing the way the lord sometimes signally blesses even the giving of a tract to a stranger, and may many be encouraged to "go and do likewise":-roger m---was one of a family resident in the town of d----, where his first days were spent, without anything remarkable taking place to distinguish his boyhood from that of many around him. it was, however, his privilege, though unvalued at the time, to receive religious training in a sabbath school. it is not known that at this period any particular progress was made by him in any department of useful or of religious knowledge. indeed, his after-course would rather prove that, like many who have enjoyed similar advantages, he grew up only to show that, by nature, he possessed a heart averse from god, and prone to depart from him. in the course of time roger m----was placed with a respectable tradesman of his native town, with a fair prospect of becoming acquainted with a business in which he might have obtained an honest livelihood; but he turned his back on his friends and prospects, and enlisted in the marines. from his own lips the subsequent account of himself was derived. year after year passed on, and though often engaged in scenes of carnage and bloodshed, he was yet wonderfully preserved both from wounds and death. at length, just on the eve of the battle of waterloo, he was drafted from his ship to take a part in that fearful and eventful conflict. amidst wounds and slaughter, and disabled and dying comrades, he stood unscathed; and after the peace which followed on that memorable victory, he was discharged from the service, and took up his residence in the city of e----. here, however, he only lived to prove how ineffectual, of themselves, are the most terrible scenes savingly to touch the rebellious heart of man, or even to awaken the mind to any just sense of the amazing goodness and long-suffering of god, independently of the grace and influence of the holy spirit. he spent his days in a life of dissipation and drunkenness, unmoved by any reflection on the past, or by any regard for the future. yet was there mercy in store for roger m----. god's ways are not as our ways, neither his thoughts as our thoughts. returning home one evening in a state of intoxication, a lady placed in his hand a religious tract, which, by the mercy of god, he carried home, and the next morning read. it is not easy to describe the state of feeling that arose in his heart from its perusal. his own account of that moment was deeply affecting. conviction of sin, remorse, alarm of conscience, strong desire after peace and pardon, the cry of the jailor, "what must i do to be saved?"--all, in tumultuous conflict, agitated his spirit. day after day, week after week, he sought relief to his mind, and direction to his anxious heart, by entering various places of worship in the city. at length in a little chapel he found that which his soul longed for. the word of peace, the glad tidings of salvation through the blood of christ, came home with power to his heart, and he obtained peace through believing. having become "a new creature in christ jesus," he next lived a new life, and rendered up himself a living sacrifice to the great redeemer. as roger m---had pursued a course of sin unto death, so now he pursued a course of obedience unto righteousness, the end of which is eternal life. a new life had opened upon him, and as a soldier of the cross he served jesus christ, his new captain, with humble zeal and holy joy. in the last interview which the writer had with him, his expressions of overwhelming love to jesus were most fervent. tears of gratitude rolled down his thin, furrowed cheeks as, with emphasis, and a feeling most touching, he acknowledged the debt of love which he owed to his beloved lord. never did the writer witness so strong an exhibition of heartfelt, deep, religious feeling. roger could speak of nothing but the unmerited and wonderful love of his lord and saviour, and of his amazing goodness in sparing and saving so vile a transgressor. when the burst of feeling had a little subsided, he expressed a strong desire to see his former teacher, then an aged christian. an interview was sought for him, that he might express his gratitude to his instructor in the days of his youth, and thank him for all the good counsels which had then been given him. here, again, the sobs and tears of the humble child of god burst forth anew, and the friend who accompanied him was obliged to shorten the interview, from fear of the consequences to both the old men. the scene will never be obliterated from the memory of him who pens this recital, nor the conviction, moreover, of the deep-seated piety and gratitude of the penitent veteran. one thing amongst others which roger confessed was this--that, in the midst of the conflicts in which he had been engaged, the lessons and truths presented to him in the sabbath school were constantly rushing into his mind with indescribable freshness, producing a conflict there, compared with which that without was as nothing. yet, strange to say, this resulted in no real conviction or conversion when the danger was past. it was not till the little messenger of mercy had reached his hand, and its truths, by divine mercy, touched his heart, that he became a contrite sinner and humble suppliant at the feet of jesus, and at length was brought to know that, "being justified by faith," he had "peace with god through our lord jesus christ" (rom. v. 1). one point in the character of this converted sinner remains to be mentioned--that, although latterly so afflicted by entire deafness as to require communication by means of writing, yet was he constant in his attendance at the house of god, where, as one of the true circumcision, he doubtless "worshipped god in the spirit, rejoiced in christ jesus, and had no confidence in the flesh" (phil. iii. 3). he has long since gone to the unseen world to be with jesus, "which is far better." this narrative affords no small encouragement to those who distribute, even under unpromising circumstances, those leaves which are intended for the healing of the soul. "cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days." "in the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good" (eccles. xi. 6). answer to scripture enigma. (_page 10._) the farmer is the lord. "i am the true vine, and my father is the husbandman," said the son, jesus (john xv. i). the farm is the bible, and the sixty-six fields are the books thereof. the bible is sown all over with spiritual food, which is the word of god, for his people. those people who seek after the lord must have a will to come, and patience to wait for an answer. there are some people who have the bible, but have no desire after the lord; but they find other things they think better of than seeking after the lord. there are some people who say they hate the lord, and the bible, and there is not a minister that they will say a good word to. this, jesus and his servants can vouch for a truth. the people who live in those low-built houses are those who are humble in the sight of the lord; and not far from where they dwell the ministers live, and they think it a great liberty to speak a few words to the ministers, and, as for the lord, they often feel they dare not attempt to speak to him. but the lord says, in luke xii. 32, "fear not, little flock; for it is your father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." you would almost wonder how these people exist; but they get a little help from the lord now and then, which keeps them alive. and then it is said, one came to the bible, and looked in the book of ruth, but could not gather anything; and christians cannot gather anything from god's word unless god opens it to them; and if they do not get good out of one part of the bible they go to another, and would be glad to glean in either field of ruth or esther. in the end, the labourer directed the gleaner to the forty-second field, and he gathered handfuls (luke xi. 9-13), and then he told others where to go to find plenty of food. mary willerton (aged 11 years). _corby, grantham._ [this is the most correct answer received up to the time of going to press.--ed.] be gentle. there is a plant that in its cell all trembling seems to stand, and bends its stalk and folds its leaves from each approaching hand. and thus there is a conscious nerve within the human breast, that from the rash and careless hand shrinks and retires distressed. the pressure rude, the touch severe, will raise within the mind a nameless thrill, a secret tear, a torture undefined. oh, you whose nature is so formed each thought refined to know, repress the word, the glance, that wakes that trembling nerve to woe! and be it still your joy to raise the trembler from the shade; to bind the broken, and to heal the wound you never made. whene'er you see the feeling mind, oh, let this care begin! and though the cell be e'er so low, respect the guest within.--l. h. a biblical discovery. bible students will gladly read the account of a remarkable and interesting discovery sent to the council of the egypt exploration fund by their explorer, mr. flinders petrie. he has apparently found the remains of a royal palace, mentioned in the bible as "tahpanhes," and referred to by the father of history in his record of the adventures of the first greek colonists who, six hundred years before the christian era, settled in a corner of the northeastern delta of egypt. these early greeks conveyed to their countrymen the wisdom of the egyptians; and the science, art, and literature of the older civilization was filtered through the artistic greek intellect to the western world. students of egyptian and greek history will take deep interest in this discovery. but the finding of the remains of this royal palace appeals to a more numerous and humbler class of students. in the book of jeremiah the prophet, from chapter thirty-seven to chapter forty-seven, the reader will find a graphic record of the events that preceded, accompanied, and followed the destruction of jerusalem by nebuchadnezzar. a great portion of the action of this story took place in the country in which mr. petrie and his arab labourers have been at work for some time past. after the tumults that followed the departure from jerusalem of nebuchadnezzar with the captive jews to babylon, it was decided by johanan, against the advice and the prophecy of jeremiah, to fly into egypt, the land of king zedekiah's old ally. the princesses, and the captains, and jeremiah, were taken across the frontier by johanan, and hospitably received by pharaoh hophra, who installed his guests in the royal residence in tahpanhes. jeremiah could not rest even in the stronghold thus provided for himself and his countrymen by the kindness of hophra, and in the court-yard or square of the royal palace of tahpanhes he made a remarkable prophecy. taking great stones in his hands, and burying them in the pavement, the prophet declared that in that very spot king nebuchadnezzar would spread his pavilion when he came, with his destroying army, to punish the jews, and to execute vengeance on their egyptian allies. the prophecy, there is every reason to believe, was fulfilled. the babylonish conqueror invaded egypt, and burnt pharaoh's house at tahpanhes. centuries have passed. the sand of the desert, and the mud of old nile, have swept over the site of the remarkable prophecy, and about 2,500 years after the death of the prophet, an englishman rolls away the encrustations of time. he discovers the basement floor of the old citadel--half prison and half palace. from the ruins he extracts slabs of fine limestone covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions, figures of captives delicately sculptured and painted, iron and bronze tools. in the kitchen he finds pokers, and spits, and broken bottles. the room of the little scullery maid is found almost intact. it contains a recess with a sink and a bench for the ancient pots and pans. mr. petrie's communication, which can be had from the secretary of the egypt exploration fund, throws a strong light on the wondrous story in the grand old book which has been for centuries a household treasure in english homes, and will be read with delight by all lovers of the bible. every season of life has its appropriate duties. through all our troubles, the tangled skein is in the hands of one who sees the end from the beginning. he shall yet unravel all. the charcoal burner's star. (_concluded from page 9._) alfred was struck mute with surprise. even the guide seemed astonished at this unexpected welcome to the hut. it was not until a minute or two after the voices had ceased that they ventured to approach the entrance. when they did, they saw the charcoal burner standing at the end of a rude table, formed of one broad deal plank, supported by four legs, along one side of which were ranged three boys between twelve and fourteen years old. books and paper, with an inkstand and pens, were lying on the table. it was a forest school. the intruders again paused at a sight as unexpected as had been the melody they had just heard. but their footsteps had caught the ears of those within the hut. "who goes there?" asked the man, in a calm voice. "friends," replied both alfred and the guide, and the latter added-"good evening, gervais. it is only your friend michel. i have brought you a gentleman who is very anxious to see you." "what is your pleasure with me, sir?" asked the charcoal burner, taking off his woollen cap. "first, to wish you a good evening, monsieur gervais; and next, to apologize for my visit." "is there anything you wish to say in private?" "nothing very important; but----" "these boys are in your way?" "oh, pray do not let me interrupt you! my business here is not of sufficient consequence." "we have done, sir. indeed, our evening studies, and more particularly our scripture readings, have been prolonged rather beyond our usual hour. we have only one more duty to fulfil, which we never omit. you will excuse it, sir." without waiting for a reply, gervais assumed a serious air. the boys knelt down before the wooden bench on which they had been sitting. alfred, and even the guide, followed their example, and the woodman offered up a brief, but solemn evening prayer; after which he pressed affectionately the hands of the young herdsmen, and dismissed them with a kind remembrance to their employers. "good-night, monsieur gervais!" said the boys cheerfully, and in an instant they were all leaping up the heights beyond the fir trees, which soon hid them from the sight of those who remained behind. "i expected to find you alone, monsieur gervais," said alfred, "and i wished to put a question to you which is now very plainly answered by the scene i have just witnessed. two hours ago, i was with a party of friends in the plain below, at some distance from this mountain. at nightfall, when we saw the light of your furnace beginning to shine, we said among ourselves, as we looked, with no small degree of interest, upon this earthly star, as it seemed to us, 'what can the man be doing who is watching by the side of this fire?' you see, sir, that i am young, and you know that, at my age, good-humoured frolics are not uncommon. 'i will soon know,' i said. well, i mounted my horse immediately, and rode at full speed to the foot of the mountain. and now that i am here, i find that i have reason to rejoice in my freak, monsieur gervais, since it has made me the witness of a most interesting scene. these pens and paper, and these books--this one in particular--afford sufficient evidence of the manner in which you have passed the evening. here, to my surprise, i have found, at this late hour, in the deep recesses of the woods, on a wild and lofty mountain, a school for useful learning in general, but more especially, as the closing of the scene has informed me, for the most important of all knowledge--that of the creator who made, of the son who redeemed, and of the holy spirit who sanctifies us. you pass your evenings in pointing out to these boys, who might otherwise be running wild along the mountains and through the forests, like the beasts that perish, the only way that leads to everlasting life. may i ask if you have any particular interest in them? are they your children, or are they employed by you in your business?" "no, sir," said the charcoal burner; "i am neither their father nor their master. alas! they have but one father, which is in heaven. they are orphans, sir, and are employed by the herdsmen. they remain here for several months in the year, to assist in tending their cattle and their goats, which are kept during the summer in the mountain pastures. they are therefore serving an apprenticeship to the line of life for which they are destined. but there are other things which are needful for them, as well as learning to look after cows, and sheep, and goats; and one thing more needful than all the rest, which they might learn to neglect, were they left to themselves, without some one to lead them in the right path, and to speak to them of the faith and love of the lord jesus. it is true they are here far removed from the temptations which they would meet with in towns, and even in villages; but satan has his snares in all parts--in the wilderness, where he dared to tempt the son of god himself, as well as in the city, where, they say, his traps are set so thickly that it is impossible to avoid them, unless the light of god's holy spirit is shining on our path. but even here, had he no other means of leading them astray, they might fall, by his devices, into the worst of sins--the forgetfulness of god, and all they owe to him. the condition, then, of these poor boys has interested me very greatly. i have prevailed upon their masters to let them come to me for two hours every evening, as soon as the cows and goats are milked, and the sheep are in the folds, when i endeavour, with god's help, to teach them to read and write, and cast up an account; but, above all, to seek to find out the lord in his holy word, and to pray to him. for myself, too, it is a profitable as well as a cheerful occupation in this solitude. i wish, indeed, that i were able to have them longer with me each day, but that our labours will not allow of. on sundays, indeed, they have rather less to do, and we take advantage of this to devote more time to the service of god." "_rather_ less to do on sundays!" said alfred. "is the lord's day, then, made only partially a day of rest?" "sir," replied gervais, "there are works of _absolute necessity_ which require our attention, here in the mountains, nearly as much on the lord's day as on the other days of the week. we do not cut wood on the sabbath day, but my fire must not be allowed to go out. it must be kept constantly burning till the operation is complete. so far, indeed, it affords a lesson of holy instruction to my young pupils as well as myself, and shows us the necessity of the flame of christian love, and faith, and hope being kept alive in our hearts, even when pursuing our daily occupations. then those who have the charge of cattle and sheep must attend to their wants, or the poor creatures would suffer sadly by their neglect. it takes up a large portion of the day to milk the cows and the goats, and i dare say you can understand that, to say nothing of the loss their owners would incur were this omitted, the poor beasts themselves would suffer bitterly from bodily pain and disease." "i ought to have thought of this, as i am myself learning to be a farmer," observed alfred. "but do you not draw any spiritual improvement for your scholars from this?" "oh, yes, sir! i show them how jesus, the good shepherd, is constantly feeding and caring for _his_ flock, watching over them, and keeping the young lambs from going astray; carrying them in his bosom, and giving them the bread of life to eat, and the waters of everlasting comfort to drink." "and are your kind instructions confined to these three boys?" "not altogether, sir. most of their masters, when their necessary work is done, come with such of their servants as can be spared, on the evening of the lord's day; and, as we have no pastor up here to teach us in the way of holiness, we join together in prayer. we sing 'psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs,' and we 'search the scriptures,' and nourish our souls with the holy word of god. most of them, i assure you, sir, are very seriously disposed, and love to hear me talk to them of the lord jesus, and tell them of all he has done to save sinners, to take away their sin, to give them repentance, and everlasting life after death." "and it is thus you have been passing your time," exclaimed alfred, "when some of my thoughtless young friends below fancied you might be drinking or smoking while you were watching your fire. happy man! these solitudes are no solitudes to you. how far more profitably, how far more pleasantly, are you employed than the greater number of those who live in the world! i must entreat you to pardon my having intruded upon you, i am ashamed to say, from a motive of mere curiosity. but see how god often causes even our follies and weaknesses to turn out to our profit. i have learned a lesson that i trust, by his grace, i shall never forget. it has taught me that every godly man has a part assigned to him for others as well as for himself, to show forth the great salvation that christ brought upon earth. you are diligently fulfilling your part. you have prayed for work, and our great master has mercifully provided it for you. you are laying up treasure for yourself in heaven, while many of those who would be inclined to pity your worldly position are wasting their lives in idleness and sin, neglecting the work they might do, and burying in the earth the talent committed to their charge. numbers there are in the world who are attempting to secure to themselves a memorial among posterity, by erecting hospitals and schools, while you are consecrating this little hovel to god in a way that might never have been known in this world, but which will not be forgotten by the lord 'in the day when he maketh up his jewels.'" as he said this, alfred cast his eyes round the hut, and fixed them upon an open chest which stood in one corner, supported upon one or two short beams of wood, to preserve the contents from the damp. "you are not unprovided with books, i see, besides those that lie on the table." "we have indeed a little library there, sir," replied gervais. "it is very small, but quite equal to our wants. you would find there 'the histories of the old and new testaments,' 'the imitation of jesus christ,' 'the history of france,' 'robinson crusoe,' and a few others. would you like to look at the writing of these boys, sir?" alfred examined some copy-books lying on the table, and could not help expressing his surprise at the progress the lads appeared to have made in three short months. then, looking at his watch, he said-"i fear i have overstayed my time, but before i go i have yet a duty to perform. while i congratulate you most sincerely on the success with which god seems to have blessed your endeavours in behalf of these destitute youths, i must add that the interest which the idea of your isolated situation excited among the party i left in the plain below was such that they said i ought not, without some good reason, to intrude upon you, and desired me to bring this little offering to you, begging of you to accept it, in token of their good-will." vainly, however, did the young man press the offering upon the charcoal burner. he absolutely refused it. "money!" said he; "for what? from whom does it come? excuse me, sir, but you must recollect that you are quite a stranger to me. i do not even know your name." alfred looked greatly disappointed, but replied that his name was alfred de blénal. "what! the son of madame de blénal, of ----?" "the same." "you are no longer a stranger, sir. your excellent mother's piety and benevolence are well known to all the country around. well, sir, as you seem distressed by my refusal, i will accept your liberal offer, but not for myself. i will only take it as trustee for these three boys, to be applied to their future maintenance, till they are able to support themselves." "excellent man!" replied alfred, deeply affected. "this sum will hardly be sufficient for your benevolent purpose, and it will give us pleasure to make it up to such an amount as may be required. i have promised to return to the persons who are expecting me by midnight, and i fear they will be uneasy at my prolonged absence. take it, then, monsieur gervais, and whenever you require a little more money for the good works you may find occasion to perform in your neighbourhood, do not fail to put me under contribution. i shall tell my friends all i have seen and heard, and be assured that they will envy me my good fortune. farewell, and remember that, by applying to me when you want anything, either for yourself or others, you will only prove that i have inspired you with sentiments of esteem and friendship." saying this, alfred gave the charcoal burner a cordial embrace, and departed. the thoughts of michel, the guide, as he descended the mountain, were very different from those with which he had gone up. he was an altered man from that night. midnight had passed. the supper was waiting at madame de blénal's. the guests were beginning to be impatient, some from hunger, some from curiosity, but more from anxiety. had he miscalculated the distance? had he mistaken the way? had he met with an accident? the former conjectures were spoken aloud; the latter was only whispered by some who were not within madame de blénal's hearing. she herself remained silent, but perfectly calm. we do not say that the mother's heart was free from anxiety, but there was a remedy within it which served as a preventive against all idle and unnecessary fears. the eye of god was upon her son, and she knew that his own trust was fixed upon his saving arm. she knew, too, that, although full of the spirit and buoyancy of youth, he would avoid the sin of running into needless danger. if an accident had detained him, it was permitted as a trial of her faith, and she was prepared to submit. the impatience of the party was just beginning to reach its height, when the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard. every eye was turned to the door, which was soon opened, and alfred stood before them, smiling, cheerful, and uninjured, though in a condition that at first occasioned some alarm, but soon excited a burst of laughter. "here is ocular proof," cried one, "that he has seen the charcoal burner." "and been at close quarters with him," said another. "he is covered with soot." "why, mr. alfred," said a young lady, "one would think you had embraced him!" "i have, mademoiselle, and i am not ashamed of owning it. had you seen what i have, you would have done the same, without considering your dress." "why, what have you seen?" was asked by more than one. "i have found a preacher of righteousness, 'a teacher of babes,' in the forest--one who is an example to us all--and i have learned that, whatever our station in life may be, we may do good service to our lord." alfred then gave a full detail of his adventure. "so then," said the old lady who had decided the question about the money, "while we were indulging in foolish conjectures, and idly jesting about this worthy man, he was engaged in the pious task of teaching young boys to read god's holy word, and the eye of that god was upon us all. my dear young friends, this is a lesson which i trust you will never forget. i see by your looks that it has produced its effect, and given birth to serious thoughts in your hearts. god has caused your inconsiderate frolic to turn out well, and i suspect that this will be a happy day for the pupils of gervais. the orphans will not want protectors. now let us go to supper. our friend alfred must be hungry after his ride, and he has well earned his meal." these words, together with the circumstances that gave rise to them, made a deep and salutary impression upon the hearers. the supper passed cheerfully, and the conversation turned upon what could best be done for the charcoal burner and the poor orphans. many plans were proposed, and at last one was suggested which met with general approbation. the young men, in consequence, all visited the mountain forest and the hut, which, under their exertions and superintendence, soon disappeared, and a comfortable châlet rose in its place, in which gervais continued for many summers to pursue his useful labours, and more than one or two successive generations of boys owed their teaching to him, and their establishment in the world to the care of the patrons whom alfred's visit had, by god's mercy, raised up for them. from darkness to light. in a conversation with the late richard de courcy, john berridge observed that he had, for many years, been preaching up self, but not christ jesus the lord:-i was a length of time in arminian fetters. john and charles wesley got me into their cradle, and the devil kept rocking; but the holy spirit, in a most remarkable manner, delivered me from the sleep of sin by slaying the legality of my heart. i used to lament the unprofitableness of my preaching, and though i was a dealer in fire and brimstone, i could make no impression on my hearers. one day, my man thomas was sawing a sturdy piece of oak, and, as i was standing by him, he threw down his saw, and turning to me, said, "master, i must give this job up; it is so knotty." i took up the saw, and said, "tom, let me try"; and to work i went, and, being of muscular strength, i soon overcame the difficulty. it occurred to me, when leaving the field, that my preaching resembled tom's sawing, and these words were impressed on my mind--"who art thou, o great mountain? before zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain." i returned to my chamber, and poured out my heart to the lord. a conviction arose in my mind that the work that god alone can perform i looked for the creature to produce. on reflection, i found the drift of my preaching for twenty years had been to tell the sinner to put the key into the lock of the door, so as to open it. i never thought of my beloved putting his hand by the hole of the door, nor of applying to him who has the keys of david, who "openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth." on the sunday following, i took my text from isaiah--"ye also made a ditch between two walls, for the water of the old pool; but ye have not looked unto the maker thereof, neither had respect unto him." from that time god the holy ghost has given me better tools for my workmanship. in addressing those whose hearts are unrenewed and unchanged, i make no propositions or calls. i cry aloud, and lift up my voice, and show my people their transgressions and their sins. i then turn from the unconverted, and implore my master to take the work in hand, to convince of sin, and to lead them to christ. with uplifted eyes and outstretched arms i cry, "lay hold of these rebels, o lord, as the angel did of lingering lot, and overcome them by thy omnipotent power, so as to lay down their arms to come in, that thy house may be filled." john berridge can do nothing but say, "awake, o arm of the lord!" this is my province; a step further i cannot, i dare not, go. for the last twelve years the lord has, in a most wonderful manner, displayed the riches of his grace in giving me innumerable seals to my ministry, both in town and country--trophies of mercy, as studs in the mediatorial crown of my dear redeemer. old everton. [oh, that there were more such preachers in the present day!] when bold, presumptuous men stand up, and fain would make believe that they are teachers sent of god, and thus poor souls deceive, they should, by every god-taught soul, be faithfully withstood, if aught they bring to us as truth but jesus and his blood. such men as these the word declares shall come, and shall deceive; but sinners, truly born of god, will not such men receive. if possible, we know they would deceive thine own elect; but, bless thy precious name, dear lord, thou wilt thine own protect. how solemn is the thought to me- such men may think they're right, yet their profession will, if left, end in eternal night! "depart, ye cursèd!" will be said by lips that cannot lie; "since you have hated me and mine, your doom is now to die. "you see, though now it is too late, the oil-less lamp won't do; the door against you now is shut; there is no passing through." my soul, reflect! how stands the case with me, a helpless sinner? i cannot hope to win the race; but jesus is my winner. i never should have sought to thee, dear lord, thou knowest well, if thou hadst not first callèd me, and plucked my feet from hell. b. w. bible subjects for each sunday in february. feb. 5. commit to memory ruth ii. 7. feb. 12. commit to memory ruth ii. 8. feb. 19. commit to memory ruth ii. 9. feb. 26. commit to memory ruth ii. 10. put heart in your work, whatever it is. if it be the lowliest, simplest little task, it will be ennobled by your doing it well and cheerfully, and taking real pleasure in it. "the day of small things." (zechariah iv. 10.) the second temple was much smaller than, and very inferior to, the first, and from it were wanting the ark, the shechinah glory, the sacred fire, and the urim and thummim. hence we read that, when it was erected and dedicated, the older men that had seen the former temple wept (ezra iii. 12). compared with that, the second temple saw but a "day of small things" (hag. ii. 3). and thus do we sometimes speak of the days of childhood and youth, and rightly so. young people are small in stature and little in ability. their minds are not much cultivated at present, their faculties undeveloped. their views of things are narrow and circumscribed. they have seen and know but little of the world, or, indeed, of anything at all. but children are not to be despised on that account. we who are older must not think depreciatingly of them, nor should the young depreciate themselves--their abilities, their time, their opportunities. do not waste your precious moments, for yours is a golden age, which will quickly pass away, and can never return. do not imagine that you are too young to exert any influence over others for good or harm. you may, and do, influence not only your companions, but many older people also. as children and youths are old enough to sin, they are old enough also to be impressed by the spirit of god--yea, even savingly converted, if god so will it. not long ago, a very little boy, dying, was heard to say, "oh, lord jesus, please make room for a little boy!" and i doubt not, his prayer was as real and as acceptable to god as was that of the dying malefactor, "lord, remember me," &c. another dear little fellow said, "if i ever get to heaven, i'll go straight up to jesus, throw my arms around his neck, and say, 'i'm come! i'm come!'" very little things are not without their importance or value. the earth is nourished all summer by tiny dew-drops. the greatest mountains, even huge chimilari, towering five and a half miles into the clouds, and all the other peaks in the himalaya and andes ranges, are formed of tiny molecules of earthy matter. take a lesson from the coral formations. these are the work of a very little creature called a _polype_, or sea-anemone. recent research has led to the discovery of much that is highly interesting respecting these little creatures. one polype, fixing its minute body to the rocky bottom of the sea, discharges a chalky secretion, which gradually grows up a branched trunk. the end of each branch is terminated by another polype; and thus it divides and multiplies itself, until a huge mass of red coral is formed. the more common white coral is similarly produced. beware of what are called "little sins." do not think them mere trifles. bad in themselves, they likewise extend and grow into habits. these, once acquired, will hold you down with the force of a mighty chain. of late years vine-stocks have been imported from america into france and italy. upon these a tiny insect, called _phylloxera_, has been found--so small that thirty-three of them placed lengthwise would not measure more than an inch; and yet so destructive have these tiny things proved, and so rapidly have they been known to spread, that they have been the destruction of more than a million acres of vines. one has well observed that "a great sin committed once shows where the devil has been; but petty sins, nourished into a habit, show where the devil lives." [illustration: "her father's bad ways made her life hard." (_see page 38._)] one of the discoveries of modern medical science is, that the disease known as cholera may be produced by a microscopic insect (the _conina bacillus_) being taken into the stomach inadvertently with our food. this minute creature propagates with enormous rapidity in the blood, until that terrible malady is the result. thus many great things are developed from the very smallest--not only great evils, but great blessings also. in doing good, we must not despise "the day of small things." the beginnings, though imperfect and weak, are not without their own peculiar value, and ultimately they lead on to excellence. travellers on the continent are often struck by the contrast exhibited between two paintings which are shown in the museum at rotterdam. the one is exceedingly poor--a mere daub. the most enthusiastic connoisseur cannot discover in it any mark of genius. the other painting is a grand work of art, almost priceless in value. yet, strange to say, the same painter executed both--the celebrated rembrandt. the first illustrates the commencement of his career as an artist; the other is a masterpiece, while many years of earnest, patient toil intervened. there must be a beginning to all things, and many dear sabbath scholars have been instrumental of good to their parents and friends. i will mention one instance of this, selected from scores which have come under notice at different times. in a miserable home there once resided a drunken father, with one girl, his only child. of course, he took no particular interest in her welfare, either body or soul. but some kind friend got her to attend a sabbath school. there she was brought to know and love the saviour, and often during the week, while attending to the house, she was known to sing the sweet hymns she had learned. this was her only comfort, for her father's bad ways made her life hard. one day, when she was thus occupied, her father was in another room, sleeping off his drunkenness. on awaking, he heard the little maid singing-"there is a happy land, far, far away." the lord was pleased to use these words for another awakening. the grace of god touched his heart, and he said to himself, "yes, it must be far away for her, poor thing; it cannot be here with me." that thought came from god. it melted his frozen heart, brought him to his knees, caused him to utter strong cries for mercy, led him to ask his little daughter to explain the way of salvation, and ultimately he was enabled to rejoice in pardoning mercy. dear young gleaners, may the lord thus be pleased to bless the reading of the little gleaner, and the instruction imparted in the sabbath school, first to your own soul, and then make you a similarly honoured instrument of good to others. a. e. realff. _dunstable._ god never wrought miracles to convince atheism, because his ordinary works convince it. a sunny, happy face naturally, is worth a world of recipes upon cheerfulness. only let one possessing it come into a room where there are a number of melancholy souls, and see how soon the magnetic influence begins to relax the lines of care around the mouth and eyes of the burdened ones, and the light of forgotten smiles to illumine the dark faces! the very breath of summer has blown through the room, bringing the breath of meadow sweets on its wings. how a great mistake was discovered. a true incident. my grandmother was always looked upon by those who knew her as a good churchwoman, a dutiful wife, an affectionate mother, and a good neighbour. she attended the services and partook of the sacrament regularly, visited the sick, gave alms to the poor, and was generally regarded as a very religious, upright, consistent, and exemplary person. yet, notwithstanding this outward goodness, her mind was not at rest. her religion yielded no joy, her service brought no satisfaction. nor could it be otherwise, for, instead of it being the spontaneous outflow of a heart constrained by love, it was as a task imposed--a duty performed in the hope of pleasing god, and meriting his favour, and in this way obtaining peace and rest to her soul. poor grandmother! these were "deadly doings"; but she knew it not, for her eyes were blinded by the god of this world (satan), and her unsuccessful attempts to procure peace by these means often left her depressed in spirit and cast down in mind. but god had better things in store for her, although it was by no ordinary means that he was pleased to make known to her his more excellent way. one sunday, she went to church as usual, and took part in the singing and prayers, which were performed in the same mechanical order as at other times. it was not until the text was read out that her attention was particularly aroused; but this so arrested her that it all seemed to be intended for herself. the words, "ye must be born again," uttered by the lips of an unconverted preacher, were made the message of god to her soul, but not as yet the message of peace. her conscience was troubled, and as the words of the text were revolved in her mind, and the necessity of the new birth laid hold upon her heart, she trembled in her seat, and all her fancied goodness fled away; for here was nicodemus, a good man, a teacher of religion, a pattern of morality, being told by the lord jesus that he must be "born again," or he could not enter heaven. she could see now that her almsgiving and church-going would not satisfy the righteous claims of a just and holy god. she had made a most blessed discovery--that she was a lost sinner, "having no hope, and without god in the world." she returned home in great distress of mind, and so continued until the next day. these painful exercises then showed no signs of abatement, for the words of the text kept ringing in her ears; so, on the morrow, as early as convenient, she sought an interview with the clergyman, in the hope that he might be able to minister relief to her troubled heart. but "woe unto you, ye blind guides!" the only counsel he could give was, to remind her of her good deeds, her consistent life, her regular attendance at church, &c., urging her to be calm and to banish from her mind these distressing thoughts, as there was not the slightest foundation for her fears. but this only increased her trouble, and she cried out, in great anguish of soul, "tell me how i can be 'born again'! tell me over again what you were telling the people yesterday." as she earnestly entreated him thus, he became greatly perplexed, for, alas! the sermon he had preached the day previous was borrowed, and had since been returned to its owner; so, in much confusion, he had to confess his inability to help her; but said he, "you must get into cheerful company, read lively books [at the same time offering to lend her some of shakespeare's plays], and these impressions will soon wear off." but the solemn words from john iii. 7 were fastened in her mind by the "master of assemblies," to bring forth their fruit in due season. my grandmother left the minister in great despair, which continued and increased to such an extent that eventually it became necessary to remove her to an asylum, and her cries of distress were heartrending, her incessant and unchanging cry being, "i must be 'born again'! tell me how i must be 'born again'!" but strange as it may appear, this was god's way of bringing her both mental and spiritual relief. a christian lady who visited the asylum became acquainted with her case, and learning that there were times when grandmother was quieter and more herself, she resolved, if possible, to enlist the co-operation of a godly minister of her acquaintance; and having made it a matter of prayer, the way was soon open for him to see her, and the visit was made with the happiest results. as the glorious gospel message was set before her, in simple and earnest language, she listened with rapt attention, and drank in the blessed truth which was soon to become the power of god unto her salvation. after this visit she was a little restless at times, but as the truth entered her soul, and she was enabled by "precious faith" to lay hold upon christ, her fears all vanished, and she gradually became more calm and peaceful. she was led to see that peace was made for her by the "blood of the cross," and not by her works; and, "being justified by faith, she had peace with god, through our lord jesus christ." she had now known and experienced the blessed change so long sought, and which might have been set forth at her first awakening had a wise counsellor been at hand. the change wrought in her soul was very real, and acted so beneficially upon her mind that shortly afterwards she was able to return to her home and friends, to tell "what great things the lord had done unto her." the remainder of her life was one of settled peace and joy, fruitful in good works, and abounding in thanksgiving and praise to god. dear reader, how is it with you? have you experienced this great change? remember, nothing but reality will do for god and eternity. neither education, morality, reformation, nor religious profession, can take the place of the new birth. "they that are in the flesh cannot please god." there must be a new life and a new power communicated, in which to love and serve god; and this can only be "by the washing of regeneration and renewing of the holy ghost." "except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of god" (john iii. 3).--_selected._ the enemies of god and of his people scattered. as the anniversary of the defeat of the spanish armada is to be celebrated this year, the following anecdote may not be uninteresting to our readers, as showing a like providence in the case of new england christians. dr. wisner remarks that the destruction of the french armament, under the duc d'auville, should be remembered with gratitude and admiration by every inhabitant of america. this fleet consisted of forty ships of war, and was destined for the destruction of new england. it sailed from chebucto, in nova scotia, for that purpose. in the meantime the godly people, apprized of their danger, had appointed a season of fasting and prayer to be observed in all their churches. while mr. prince was officiating in old south church, boston, on the fast day, and praying most fervently that the dreaded calamity might be averted, a sudden gust of wind arose (the day till then had bean perfectly calm)--so violent as to cause a loud clattering of the windows. the pastor paused in his prayer, and, looking round upon the congregation with a countenance of hope, he again commenced, and, with great ardour, supplicated the almighty to cause that wind to frustrate the object of their enemies. a tempest ensued, in which the greater part of the french fleet was wrecked. the duc d'auville, the principal general, and his second in command, both committed suicide. many died from disease, and thousands found a watery grave. a late president remarks--"i am bound, as an inhabitant of new england, to declare, were there no other instance than the above to be found, the blessings communicated on the occasion now referred to would furnish ample proof, concerning answers to prayer, to every sober and intelligent man." a hint to parents. in writing upon the education of the young, a thoughtful writer has made the following observations:-"the little triumphs and successes of the young mind should never be lightly passed over without a token of just and fitting praise from the lips of its parents. the love of approbation is one of the strongest incentives to improvement and industry which the creator has implanted in the human mind. in the child, this feeling is very predominant; and, if disappointed of its justly-earned tribute, will be checked, and the child disheartened and mortified. "benjamin west relates that he owed his success in life to the fond kiss of delighted approval bestowed on him by his mother, on his bringing her a rude production of his pencil when quite a little boy. 'that kiss,' said the great artist, 'made me a painter.' "praise, then, when merited, should never be withheld. it is the chief--indeed, generally the only--recompense to which children look; and it is a bitter and injudicious cruelty to deprive them of it. the approval and the censure of its parents and teachers should, in this sense, be the guiding stars of a child's existence. but care should be taken that neither should be bestowed carelessly or with partiality, so as to induce vanity, or, on the other hand, bitterness of feeling." bible enigma. an apostle employed as a messenger. the son of zephaniah. a disciple called "the chamberlain of the city." a place whence gold was brought to the temple. an idol of damascus. he who arrested a prophet that was put into a dungeon. who said, "the lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble," &c.? a disciple who dwelt at troas. a sorcerer struck blind. the name given to the sockets for fastening the stones in the ephod. that without which it is impossible to please god. the place where one was struck dead for touching the ark. aaron's wife. the syriac name for "father." the epistle where the words are--"ye are not your own," &c. the place to which samson gave a name, where he quenched his thirst after slaying the philistines. total--one of the titles of christ, used prophetically. low expense is the highway to fortune. the sixth annual christmas gathering of ebenezer sunday school, hastings. year succeeds year and marks the flight of time, and, in its flight, leaves the impress of many changes, proving to every thoughtful mind that "here we have no continuing city." but, amid the changes of life, the lord encourages his people to wait upon him; and none need to do so more than they who are engaged in the work of spreading his truth, whether among old or young; and when the spirit of prayer is kept alive in their midst, they are not without testimony that "the lord is with them." these thoughts were in the minds of some who witnessed the assembling of the scholars of this school on december 27th, and they marvelled how any god-fearing man or woman can feel indifferent to the welfare of the young, or look on unmoved as they assemble together. to some of us these gatherings are as "the solemn assembly." we see an eager, expectant throng, seeking for that which shall please them--for the most part, seemingly unconscious, for the time at least, that they have immortal souls that must live in eternal happiness or eternal misery, and, therefore, without a knowledge of their state before god. we see our own children, and yearn over them in prayer before god, and, like ezra, we would "afflict ourselves before god" to seek a right way for ourselves and our little ones. the scholars assembled in the chapel, as usual, at half-past two, when the proceedings were opened by a short address from our pastor and president, mr. t. hull. many friends encouraged us by their presence, though the severe weather considerably influenced their number. as soon as a hymn had been sung, mr. hull read and expounded the first psalm, showing the character of that man whom god had pronounced blessed. he then earnestly besought the lord's blessing, and followed it by a few words on the preciousness of truth. the report was then read by the secretary, mr. ellis, and again proved to be of a most interesting and encouraging character. the steady increase that marked the earlier years of this school has been continuous, the number on the register now being 250, showing an increase of sixteen during the year. the average attendance has been 153 in the morning, and 194 in the afternoon, as compared with 135 and 169 in 1886. the highest single attendance was 223. two scholars have been lost by death, and one teacher by removal. we give an extract from the report, as expressing the earnest feeling of those engaged in the work--"to record an increase in numbers is pleasing, as showing outward success; but the success we desire is, that our scholars may be brought to a knowledge of the lord, that god's truth may be established in their hearts, and that many that meet with us now may bless the lord for the instrumentality of ebenezer sunday school." the financial statement showed a balance in hand of £5 16s. 7d. this would be to december 1st, the date to which the accounts are made up, and, therefore, leaves the expenses of this day, with the prizes, to be met by the balance in hand, which, of course, is quite inadequate. but the executive feel sure that the same kind thoughtfulness that has put them beyond anxiety in the past will not be wanting in the future. the expenses of the year have been £34 11s. 4d.; the income £32 10s., which, added to the balance brought forward from last year, makes £40 8s. several addresses were next given, and listened to with marked attention. the superintendent, mr. j. trimming, spoke of his own feeling in the work, and how earnestly he looked for the blessing of the lord; the anxiety he felt for the young, and the vast importance of putting a right value on the word of god. mr. r. funnell, who is in his seventy-eighth year, was most enthusiastically received. he is a pattern of diligence and earnestness in everything connected with the welfare of this school and church. he very nicely used the illustration of elijah gathering the people on mount carmel, as showing his thoughts on sunday school work. though we may build altars, yet, if no living fire comes down from heaven, no saving work will be accomplished. mr. poole enforced the importance of taking heed to both what we read and what we hear, and to treasure up the word, that it might be of profit. mr. ellis, the secretary, followed with a few affectionate and earnest words, at the close of which, mr. hull proceeded to distribute the prizes--the most interesting event of the afternoon. before distributing to the scholars, mr. hull called on three teachers, namely, miss p. funnell, miss m. funnell, and mr. jesse vine, to receive a present from their respective classes--a proceeding most heartily received by the whole school. and now, class after class filed past the president to receive the book prize awarded to them; and though the list was long, and the recipients many, he had a kindly word for all. mr. hull does not spare himself on these occasions, and by his pithy remarks and enforcement of precepts, suggested by the proceedings, contributes in no small degree to the success of the gathering. tea was now announced, the arrangements for which--both for scholars and friends--were excellent, and most heartily did the assembly respond to the invitation. at the close of the tea, the scholars again took their places in the chapel, and proceeded to carry out a plan wholly devised and arranged by the superintendent. in introducing the subject, mr. trimming spoke of the importance of the study of the word of god--a study which he had reason to fear was sadly neglected; and with a view to show the word of god as a harmonious whole, and to bring into prominence the book of proverbs, he had prepared a subject, or a series of subjects, which he called, "the crown of glory." he read proverbs iv. 7-9, as the basis of his plan. in a crown there are precious stones, the precious stones in this crown being--first, the fear of the lord; secondly, repentance; thirdly, seeking god; fourthly, shunning evil; fifthly, obedience to instruction; sixthly, waiting upon god; seventhly, acknowledging god's sovereignty; eighthly, truthfulness and honesty; ninthly, guards for the temper; tenthly, guards for the tongue; eleventhly, god's power over all hearts; twelfthly, true friendship. to illustrate and bring out into bold relief each of these precious stones, each class had prepared portions of scripture, hymns, or poems to recite as each subject was announced. it must have repaid the superintendent for all the trouble he had taken, and given the friends much pleasure to hear the manner in which the different classes acquitted themselves, the young men's bible class especially. throughout the entire proceedings, hymns, specially selected for the occasion, were nicely sung by the scholars, and contributed much to the heartiness of the gathering. the school-room was decorated in the usual manner, namely, with garments destined for distribution among the deserving poor. these garments have been made, as in former years, by the scholars and friends--in fact, the school dorcas is now an established institution, and shows what may be done by kind hearts and nimble fingers. the meeting was brought to a close, shortly before nine o'clock, with the usual acknowledgments, the singing of "shall we meet beyond the river?" and prayer, every one feeling that another pleasant and profitable meeting had been held. c. e. our bible class. psalm xxxii. with our bibles open before us, dear young friends, we will try to make a few comments on this portion of scripture. but let us first turn to psalm li., for there is the sad confession of sin which went before this joyful song of "blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven." this first verse is a shout of joy and gratitude. oh, the happiness--the indescribable happiness--of the forgiven sinner! four words are used to describe wrong-doing and guilt: _transgression_, or trespass--a venturing on forbidden ground; _sin_--a failing, or falling short of goodness; _iniquity_ (second verse), wilfulness, rebellion; and _guile_--deceit and falsehood. and here are four pictures of god's saving love. _forgive_ means "forth give." pardon flows forth freely and fully from the heart of god to all who truly confess their sins and entreat his mercy. sin is _covered_, for christ is the _propitiation_ for his people's sins, and these two words carry us back to the tabernacle's most holy place, and bring to view the covering, or lid, of the ark, the mercy-seat, sprinkled with atoning blood and bright with the divine glory. jesus has died, and his blood cleanseth from all sin. to him david looked, and was saved, and faith now looks back to his perfect sacrifice, and rejoices in him alone. then iniquity is not imputed to the pardoned one, for "it is god that justifieth." "impute" or "reckon" reminds us of an account book, with its columns of debt and credit entries. god will not charge his children with iniquity, for jesus paid their debts, and christ's goodness and merits are reckoned in their favour, and they shall receive all blessings for his sake. and then these blessed ones are _made_ as well as "reckoned" righteous. in their "spirit there is no guile." they, through god's spirit, become honest and sincere. oh, how blessed are these forgiven ones! then david, for the sake of contrast, presents another picture--his own attempts at covering his sin. what clumsy, miserable failures! he tried to cover one stain by another blot, and then threw the cloak of falsehood over all. but the weary months passed on, and brought him no relief from the unspeakable wretchedness that filled his heart and wore out his body by day and by night, till nathan, the prophet, was sent by god to reprove him, and then, with a full heart, david acknowledged all, and received the free pardon of his heavenly father. now, david would be useful to others, and warn sinners against the evil ways they are pursuing (see ver. 10, first clause), and would encourage all who are seeking the lord to hope in his mercy, who had been so merciful to him. god had often been his hiding-place (ver. 7) when he fled from saul into rocks and caves of the earth. his sure defence was the lord himself. he preserved him from death; and now he had afresh experienced his loving-kindness. and as we read this verse, are we not reminded of the sweet lines- "rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee"? the lord himself is the great instructor and leader of his people, and he guides them with his eye always upon them, watching and protecting the objects of his care (ver. 8). but david would tenderly exhort all who heard, and still hear him, to dread sin, and be afraid of all wayward, self-willed feelings. "be ye not as the horse, or the mule, that have no understanding" of their owners' will sometimes, but will, if possible, get their own way, and need to be steered and restrained. "i have been like them," david seems to say, "and i was allowed to take my own course; and oh, how fearfully i went astray! be warned by my fall, and learn, with me, to pray, 'hold thou me up, and i shall be safe.'" "many sorrows shall be to the wicked, but they that trust in the lord," though they are weak, and foolish, and imperfect, "shall be compassed about with mercy." therefore, "be glad in the lord, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart," for he is good and faithful, and will preserve you; he is gracious, and will forgive; he is holy and almighty, and he will cleanse you from all unrighteousness, and fill and crown you with his glory for ever. may we be kept by the power and providence of god from falling into sin and evil, but since we have sinned and come short of his glory--since we need pardon and cleansing--may we be led to pray, with david, "wash me, and i shall be whiter than snow. create in me a clean heart, o god, and renew a right spirit within me." like him, may we know the joys of divine forgiveness, and then be helped to show forth our saviour's praise, not only by our words, but in our lives, by walking in the way of his commandments, and "cleaving to him with purpose of heart." our next subject will be, john xvii. 22. your loving friend, h. s. l. do those things that you judge to be good, although, after you have done them, you may be disesteemed, being regardless of the praise or blame of the vulgar.--_pythagoras._ prize essay. what kind of service is most acceptable to god? god accepts that service which is prompted entirely out of love to him with greater pleasure than any other. if we obey our parents and serve god only with a view of being praised by men, he does not accept our service, and we may be compared with the scribes and pharisees washing the outside of the platter and of the cup, but leaving the inside unclean. jesus says, "woe unto you, scribes and pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess" (matt. xxiii. 25). jesus means by this that the scribes and pharisees gave heed to all the outward ceremonies of religion, and were, to all appearance, good and upright; but they did not really love god in their hearts. god looks upon the motive which prompts any little kindness to any one. he does not look so much at the action. he says, even a cup of cold water, if given for jesus' sake, will be remembered and rewarded (matt. x. 42; mark ix. 41). jesus says that even the widow who put her farthing into the treasury, gave more than the scribes and pharisees, who put in large sums of money. he means by this that the widow put in all she had. she must have had great love to god to give her last farthing for the use of god's house, and the pharisees were really prompted to put in their large sums of money because of the praise of man. in obeying our parents, and in whatever we do, we should do it as unto the lord. paul says, "not with eye-service, as men pleasers; but as the servants of christ, doing the will of god from the heart; with good will doing service as to the lord, and not to men" (eph. vi. 6, 7). "only a kindly action, done to a child of god; not done to cause attraction, but as unto christ the lord." when mary poured the precious box of ointment on jesus' head, and anointed his feet, and wiped them with her hair, she did it out of love to him, and jesus accepted her service; and when some were angry at what they termed the woman's waste of ointment, jesus reproved them, and said, "she hath done what she could." oh, that we may have our sins forgiven through the blood of jesus, and be enabled to serve him acceptably, so that we may have the joy of hearing him say, at the last day, "come, thou blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (matt. xxv. 34). "search me, o god, is my desire, nor let me from thy ways depart; to love and serve thee i aspire, enriched with mary's better part." mabel ellen denly (aged 11 years). _197, high street, hounslow._ [we have received several good essays this month, especially those from e. b. knocker, jane bell, margaret creasey, l. rush, and p. rackham. we hope all of them, as well as the very young friend who wrote the above, will feel encouraged to persevere.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of the sower for 1887. the subject for april will be, "who are they that will stand perfect in the day of judgment?" and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the life of john newton." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of march.] "let no man despise thee." does the injunction to timothy and titus respectively--"let no man less despise thy youth," and "let no man despise thee"--give any sanction to self-assertiveness? let it not be thought so. am i eccentric for the sake of eccentricity, or for the sake of attracting notoriety? am i tenacious of my own rights, while sublimely indifferent to the rights of others? do i try to pass myself off for better, wiser, richer, or nobler than i am? then i deserve to be despised. but if, in the vindication of unpalatable truth, or in the steadfast and unostentatious discharge of duty, i encounter scorn, be scorn my portion. the sum of the matter seems to me to be this--while, on the one hand, i must be willing, for conscience' sake, to endure reproach, opposition, buffeting, and contempt, i must be equally concerned, on the other, to avoid every questionable act or thing that, with any show of reason, may cause me to be despised, and may thus materially mar my influence for good. herein does the poet of the "night thoughts" hit the mark--"revere thyself, and yet thyself despise." let self be "of no reputation," but, at the same time, do thou faithfully and prayerfully pursue intrinsic worth, and let not "a good name" be of no account in thy regard. thomson sharp. egotism and self-assertion are unamiable traits. interesting items. a correspondent of the _echo_ calls attention to the fact that, at dr. lee's church, in the new cut, on sunday night, january 1st, the _te deum_ was sung in thanksgiving for the papal jubilee, and wishes to know what is to prevent it. "nothing," replies the editor. according to the _charity record_, the amount of money bequeathed in great sums for charitable purposes during the year just closed was more than £700,000; and if bequests under £1,000 be added, the total would at least reach £1,000,000. this is exclusive of the money given to several religious and book-publishing societies. a thieving elephant.--the contents of a clothes-chest, belonging to one of the people recently employed in the carnival in the waverley market, edinburgh, disappeared in a rather amusing fashion. the chest had been lying near the performing elephants, and in the morning it was observed that one of these animals was particularly lively, and apparently in the very highest spirits. later on, the owner of the chest discovered that the whole of the contents had been abstracted. subsequent examination satisfied the searchers that one of the animals was responsible for the disappearance of the wardrobe, and as none of the articles could be discovered hidden away in its vicinity, the only conclusion that could be come to was, that the mischievous animal had swallowed the whole lot--boots, brushes, trousers, shirts, and several other articles of wearing apparel. the baku naphtha springs.--although within the last two years intelligence has frequently reached europe of extraordinary outbursts of mineral oil on the apsheron peninsula, near baku, nothing has yet equalled the astonishing outbreak which the northern telegraph agency telegraphed a few days ago. their telegram was to the effect that, near the petroleum works of a certain m. arafeloff, a fountain of oil was throwing out over 2,400 tons daily, that this had been continuing without intermission for four weeks, and that more than the half of this enormous output was going to waste. it is to this loss of the oil that attention is now being directed. not only at arafeloff's fountain, but at almost every large fountain in the balakhan-sabuntchin district, the waste of this most valuable product has been enormous. millions of poods of oil have been lost owing to the inefficient way in which it is reservoired and stored. it is now understood that the government will take immediate steps to prevent this ruinous waste, and to compel the owners of oil-springs to adopt more scientific methods of boring, collecting, and storing. an irish cabin paved with gold.--the _irish ecclesiastical gazette_ of december 31st contains the following:--"a few weeks ago, the writer was in a bank office in a country town in the south of ireland, when a very common-looking, roughly-dressed man passed out after a conference with the manager. the latter said, 'did you see that man? well, some time ago, there was a run on the bank of ireland here, and he withdrew (receiving it in gold) £700 which he had there on deposit. that sum he informs me he still has at home, "under the kitchen flure." he has also more than £400 on deposit here with us.' is it not hard to know 'what is truth' in ireland? here you have the floor of an irish cabin literally paved with gold at a time when the payment of rent is impossible. it may be said that this is an exceptional case, but we believe such cases are not at all so rare as some suppose." the roman correspondent of _le paris_ of january 5th states that, at florence, mr. gladstone was heard to express a desire to see leo xiii. this being repeated at the vatican, the pope sent word to mr. gladstone that nothing would delight him more than to have a visit from him. it is therefore arranged, says the correspondent of the _paris_, that he is to go to rome, and when he calls at the vatican, is to be received according to the ceremonial adopted there when non-catholic visitors are admitted to audiences. the correspondent thinks that anxiety about the irish question moved mr. gladstone to manifest the desire above mentioned, and that the pope's celerity in reciprocating it sprung from the same cause. the pope has been urged to stand out against the land league; but, feeling what a momentous thing it would be to do this, he is, we are told, delighted to talk over the matter with mr. gladstone. thus we see salisbury and co. and gladstone and co. are in perfect agreement as to giving their power to the pope. it is only a keen competition between them as to which shall be first, and do it most effectually. since salisbury and co. have encouraged the queen to despise her coronation oath, we need no longer wonder that they are so quiet about mr. bradlaugh. perhaps lord r. churchill's expressions on the subject were anticipatory of the whole matter. we find that neither party is worthy of being entrusted with our protestant interests. nine hundred thousand dog licenses were issued for the past year. the duty amounted to £340,000. christmas at the london post office.--from statistics it would seem that never before have the post office officials had their energies so severely taxed as on christmas eve last, during which day no fewer than 15,000,000 letters and newspapers were forwarded to their destination. in all some 3,000 supernumerary men were engaged, these being in addition to the regular staff. at coldbath fields, where the parcel post is now conducted, some 65,000 inland and 5,000 foreign parcels were disposed of during the day, for the conveyance of which to the various railway termini more than 800 vans were brought into requisition. an atlantic wave.--an immense wave recently fell upon the steamship _umbria_ with a deafening roar when a thousand miles from queenstown, bringing the ship to a standstill, and causing much damage to the decks. stout brass rods, an inch in diameter, that formed the railing about the bridge, were twisted and bent like straws. an eye-witness, who has made thirteen ocean voyages, thus describes the occurrence:--"the look-out saw the wave coming, and the course of the vessel was altered so that she met it obliquely, while the speed of the engines was slackened. as i saw the huge wave, it looked like a black mass of water with white waves on the top, and it rolled higher and higher as it neared the vessel. when it struck her she shivered from stem to stern, and the combing of the wave fell with the weight of tons on the deck. the wood cover of the forward hatch was splintered in pieces, while the water poured in torrents into the hold, but the bulkheads were closed. the bridge was broken, and the iron stanchions were twisted with enormous force, while the turtle-back was flattened by the tremendous weight of the water. there was also a panic among the passengers, most of whom were sleeping in their berths. when the force of the wave was felt, they thought the ship was going to the bottom, and many in their night-clothes rushed into the main dining-room. of course the danger was past, as the wave rolled by, and the excitement subsided." zion sunday school, herden bridge, yorkshire.--the friends, teachers, and scholars connected with the above place celebrated their annual christmas tea festival on christmas eve, december 24th, 1887. the school-room was very tastefully decorated with evergreens and mottoes in touch with the season; also the tables, so richly laden with all sorts of nice and dainty things, had not escaped the eye of the decorators, for at intervals luxuriant exotics were placed, thereby contributing a very pleasing appearance. the children's features were lightened up with the thought of their happy treat; also the older people seemed to wear pleasant countenances, and apparently enjoyed the time, notwithstanding their thoughts were in a much loftier strain. the tea was served by the young ladies of the place to about one hundred and forty. after tea, a public meeting was held in the chapel, presided over by mr. john smith, of halifax. the meeting was opened by singing a christmas hymn, after which mr. t. barritt, senior deacon, offered prayer. mr. e. hargreaves presented the prizes to the scholars for good attendance. addresses were also delivered by messrs. t. smith, jos. smith, and t. barritt. hymns were sung. the report was read by the secretary, which showed an increase of eight during the year, the present number on the books being eighty-two. recitations were given by the scholars, and a very good meeting was brought to a close a little after nine o'clock. albert street chapel sunday school, oxford.--the prizes were distributed to the scholars on tuesday, december 27th, 1887. the meeting was opened by singing, "i thank the goodness and the grace"; this was followed by prayer. owing to the indisposition of mr. newton, the friends, teachers, and scholars were greatly disappointed in not having the usual address they look forward to every year from the superintendent. there were twenty-eight boys and girls who said pieces, and they, one and all, deserve great commendation for the capital way in which they recited. one girl, aged twelve, rehearsed the story of "giving away a child," in prose, from volume ix. of the little gleaner. another scholar, aged twelve, repeated in a very perfect manner a lengthy piece containing seventy-nine verses, entitled "the little pilgrim." this too was taken from an early volume of the little gleaner. a boy, aged eleven, rehearsed very nicely a difficult piece called "the two brothers, and what echo said to them," and he imitated the echo capitally. then followed, perhaps, the greatest attraction of the evening, namely, the distribution of the prizes. the first prize in the boys' class was awarded to william tombs, and in the girls' class to elizabeth leech. as usual, a prize was given for the best essay--the subject, "the history of joseph." this prize was awarded to a boy, who received a nicely-bound book, entitled "pebbles from the brook." the meeting was closed with prayer. m. s. p. [illustration: caring for the little ones] caring for the little ones. the faithful guardians of our cities have many and varied duties to perform, but perhaps in none of them does the kindness of their hearts shine forth as it does in their tenderness to little ones who have lost themselves in the winding streets of a great city. in wet or wintry weather they treat them tenderly, and take them home, or to the warm fire at the nearest station, till their parents claim them. this incident may well call to mind the kindness of jesus to the little ones when on earth, as we read--"and they brought young children to him, that he should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. but when jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of god. and he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them" (mark x. 13, 14, 16). the mothers came, in days of old, to jesus, that he might enfold within his arms their children dear, and then his kindness did appear. disciples thought it waste of time; rebuked, as though it was a crime; but it was ne'er the saviour's way to turn poor coming ones away. therefore the lord was much displeased, and thus the happy moment seized; them in his arms did take and bear, showing his love and kindly care. his loving voice could never say- "oh, take these little ones away!" and though the parents' hearts might fear, he loved to see them coming near. his blessed words, "forbid them not," are with much heavenly comfort fraught; and "suffer them to come to me," gives forth a welcome kind and free. in him sweet rays of mercy shine- so tender, harmless, yet divine; upon them he his hands doth place, and blesses them in truth and grace. displeased with what his servants did, and having their unkindness chid, he makes his pleasure shine so bright, causing the mothers much delight. oh, tell it out, to heal the smart of many an anxious parent's heart- he hears the sigh, he sees the tear, and each poor pleader welcomes near. oh, tell it out, that children dear may seek his face, and never fear, that he will hear their feeble prayer, and give them in his love to share. he speaks of heaven and glorious things, and is so meek, though king of kings; of children says, to cheer and please, "the kingdom is of such as these." oh, eyes that saw with kindly look! oh, arms that thus the children took! oh, hands, parental-like, thus laid! oh, words to bless, what grace displayed! lord, fix our youthful eyes on thee; grant us thy love and grace to see; cause us to love thy blessed name, and tune our tongues to speak thy fame. the proud, the lofty, all defiled, must be made as a little child; must all their sins and vileness own, and seek for mercy at thy throne.[1] [1] throne of grace. oh, saviour, may thy love so free encourage souls to come to thee; and may they, finding all they need, confess that they are blest indeed. b. b. the biggest lies are told for the least cause. a budding of hope. dear young readers of the little gleaner, how very true and solemn are the words of the poet-"the moment when our lives begin we all begin to die." and at what age death may take us none of us can say. from among the large number who read the gleaner, we every now and again hear of one being taken away by death. lizzie winchester, of cross-in-hand, was a constant reader of the gleaner, and of other good books, but not to the neglecting of her bible. she was a scholar in the sunday school at ebenezer chapel, heathfield, where she was always very quiet and attentive, and she was also very fond of her teacher. when she left school, she regularly attended chapel with her sisters, sitting where she could see the school children, and would complain when she got home if she saw any that did not behave themselves properly. she had a great reverence for the house of god and for the servants of god. she had but few companions, but was much beloved for her little acts of kindness in sending to one and another small presents. some little time before her death she sent "the sack and its treasure" to a young friend at eastbourne, as a birthday present; and who can say how much real good may result from such little gifts as that? i should not think that any one could point out a flaw in her moral character. but this was not grace; and although she needed no outward reformation, yet if the heart be not changed, there can be no entering into the kingdom of god. the last time that she walked to chapel, a distance of three miles--making six miles both ways--was on august 21st. it was not then known that anything was the matter with her. first her throat was sore, and she felt poorly, but she still kept about. on wednesday, september 14th, she was out, and gathered half a gallon of blackberries. she was up on thursday and friday, and put her clothes on on saturday, but could not get down stairs. towards night she was much worse, and it was found that her affliction was diabetes. on sunday she was very ill, and the doctor said she could not last long. her sunday school teacher, miss c----, was sent for, and when she arrived, she saw that lizzie was sinking fast, and found that she could say but little. i am not going to set her up, and positively say she was a partaker of grace, for the very few words she uttered are not of themselves sufficient evidence for that. about five o'clock, during her mother's absence, she said, in a very low tone of voice, "i hope jesus will heal my soul," or, "perhaps jesus will heal my soul." miss c---could not distinguish the words so as to be sure which. early on monday morning, the 19th of september, 1887, she died. had she lived till the 26th, she would have been eighteen years of age. just as she departed there was a beautiful smile came over her countenance; and as miss c---afterwards went with several friends to see the corpse, these words came into her mind as if some one had spoken them to her- "not a wave of trouble rolls across her peaceful breast." mr. mockford buried her on the following saturday; and, among other things, he spoke from these words--"if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth there it shall be." he spoke of the departed as being toward the south--toward the house of god, the people of god, and the ways and word of god; and as she was so far joined to the living, there was hope that she would be found among that people at the resurrection morning. on sunday morning in the school, one of the teachers read that chapter where the same words stand, and, though not at the funeral, some very similar remarks were made, and the same hope concerning the departed was expressed. i am sure of this--that, if she had that good thing in her heart toward the lord god of israel, namely, faith toward jesus and his blood, she is now joining "the host of virgin saints made to salvation wise." the question may arise, "why say anything about her, since there is no more ground for hope than this?" it is to the living i want to say a few words, hoping the lord will make use of this feeble account to lead the young readers of the little gleaner to consider how matters stand with them before god and for eternity. "reflect, young friend, i humbly crave, thy sins, how high they mount! what are thy hopes beyond the grave? how stands that dark account?" oh, how solemn your case, if you are in an unpardoned state! death may come upon you speedily, and then what will you do? all who die without repentance and forgiveness must hear that solemn word from the lips of christ, "depart from me!" are you blessed with a good hope, through grace? then you certainly have something to be thankful to god for. or are you in some doubt as to whether you have a living hope in christ? and do you fear that, if called to die, you could say no more than lizzie winchester did? then my prayer for such an one is, that the lord may stir you up to real, earnest, wrestling prayer and importunity respecting your salvation. "if hellish foes beset thee round, and would thy way withstand, on jesus call, nor yield thy ground, and he will help command." it is no small mercy, reader, if your moral character will compare with lizzie winchester's. she was a model in this respect, and i hope you may be found in every way as consistent as she was, and, above all, may you be found in christ jesus, living and dying. i had thought of saying more, but, as i wish to be brief, i will conclude by telling you that, notwithstanding her reservedness, several friends, with myself, had a good hope of lizzie. we do trust she is now "completely blest; has done with sin, and care, and woe, and entered jesus' rest." w. l. [we hope our readers will bear in mind the motive our friend has in writing, and we in giving, this brief account of lizzie winchester; and may the holy spirit cause the reading of it to make them feel the importance of the new birth, and stir them up to seek clear and certain evidences of their salvation, so that, when they come to die, they may be able to confess, "i know whom i have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which i have committed unto him."--ed.] bible subjects for each sunday in march. mar. 4. commit to memory heb. xi. 23. mar. 11. commit to memory heb. xi. 24. mar. 18. commit to memory heb. xi. 25. mar. 25. commit to memory heb. xi. 26. the first character of right childhood is, that it is modest. "there is no rest in hell!" an authentic narrative. dear reader,--the following account being "an authenticated fact," it is put before you with the hope that you may be thereby led to solemnly consider the subject of a future state. god's truth does not require fiction to make it effectual; therefore, the net of truth should only be weighted with words of truth. the awful, but true, narrative now put before you takes us back for something like a century, to the city of glasgow, where, at that time, was a club of gentlemen of the first rank in that city. they met professedly for card-playing; but the members were distinguished by such a fearless excess of profligacy as to obtain for it the name of "the hell club." besides their nightly or weekly meetings, they held a grand annual festival, at which each member endeavoured to "outdo all his former outdoings" in drunkenness, blasphemy, and licentiousness. of all who shone on these occasions, none shone half so brilliantly as archibald boyle. educated by a fond and foolishly indulgent mother, he was early allowed to meet in society with members of "the hell club." one night, on retiring to sleep, after returning from one of the annual meetings of the club, boyle dreamt that he was still riding, as usual, upon his famous black horse, towards his own house--then a country seat embowered by ancient trees, and situated upon a hill now built over by the most fashionable part of glasgow--and that he was suddenly accosted by some one, whose personal appearance he could not, in the gloom of night, distinctly discern, but who, seizing the reins, said, in a voice apparently accustomed to command, "you must go with me." "and who are you?" exclaimed boyle, with a volley of blasphemous execrations, while he struggled to disengage his reins from the intruder's grasp. "that you will see by-and-bye," replied the same voice, in a cold, sneering tone, that thrilled through his very heart. boyle plunged his spurs into the panting sides of his steed. the noble animal reared, and then darted forward with a speed which nearly deprived his rider of breath. but in vain--in vain! fleeter than the wind he flew, the mysterious, half-seen guide still in front of him! agonized by he knew not what of indescribable horror and awe, boyle again furiously spurred the gallant horse. it fiercely reared and plunged. he lost his seat, and expected at the moment to feel himself dashed to the earth. but not so, for he continued to fall--fall--fall--it appeared to himself with an ever-increasing velocity. at length this terrific rapidity of motion abated, and, to his amazement and horror, he perceived that this mysterious attendant was close by his side. "where," he exclaimed, in the frantic energy of despair, "where are you taking me? where am i? where am i going?" "to hell!" replied the same iron voice, and from the depths below the sound so familiar to his lips was suddenly re-echoed--"to hell!" onward, onward they hurried in darkness, rendered more horrible still by the conscious presence of his spectral conductor. at length a glimmering light appeared in the distance, and soon increased to a blaze. but, as they approached it, in addition to the hideously discordant groans and yells of agony and despair, his ears were assailed with what seemed to be the echoes of frantic revelry. boyle at length perceived that he was surrounded by those whom he had known on earth, but were some time dead, each one of them betraying his agony at the bitter recollections of the vain pursuits that had engrossed his time here. suddenly observing that his unearthly conductor had disappeared, he felt so relieved by his absence that he ventured to address his former friend, mrs. d----, whom he saw sitting with eyes fixed in intense earnestness, as she was wont on earth, apparently absorbed at her favourite game of loo. "ha! mrs. d----! delighted to see you! d'ye know a fellow told me to-night he was bringing me to hell! ha! ha! if this be hell," said he, scoffingly, "what a ---pleasant place it must be! ha! ha! come now, my good mrs. d----, for auld lang syne, do just stop for a moment, rest, and"--"show me through the pleasures of hell," he was going, with reckless profanity, to add; but, with a shriek that seemed to cleave through his very soul, she exclaimed, "_rest!_ there is no rest in hell!" and from the interminable vaults, voices, as loud as thunder, repeated the awful, the heart-withering sound, "_there is no rest in hell!_" and he who, in his vision, walked among them in a mortal frame of flesh and blood, felt how inexpressibly more horrible such sounds could be than ever was the wildest shriek of agony on earth. he saw maxwell, the former companion of his own boyish profligacy, and said, "stop, harry! stop! speak to me! oh, rest one moment!" scarce had the words been breathed from his faltering lips, when again his terror-stricken ear was stunned with the same wild yell of agony, re-echoed by ten thousand thousand voices--"_there is no rest in hell!_" all at once he perceived that his unearthly conductor was once more by his side. "take me," shrieked boyle, "take me from this place! by the living god, whose name i have so often outraged, i adjure thee! take me from this place!" "canst thou still name his name?" said the fiend, with a hideous sneer. "go, then; but, in a year and a day, _we_ meet, to part no more!" boyle awoke; and he felt as if the last words of the fiend were traced in letters of living fire upon his heart and brain. unable, from actual bodily ailment, to leave his bed for several days, the horrid vision had full time to take effect upon his mind; and many were the pangs of tardy remorse and ill-defined terror that beset his vice-stained soul, as he lay in darkness and seclusion--to him so very unusual. he resolved, utterly and for ever, to forsake "the hell club." above all, he determined that nothing on earth should tempt him to join the next annual festival. the companions of his licentiousness bound themselves by an oath never to desist till they had discovered what was the matter with him, and had cured him of _playing the methodist;_ for their alarm as to losing "the life of the club" had been wrought up to the highest pitch by one of their number declaring that, on unexpectedly entering boyle's room, he detected him in the act of hastily hiding a book, which he actually believed was the bible. alas! alas! poor boyle! like many a youth, he was ashamed to avow his convictions, and his endless ruin followed. from the annual meeting he shrank with an instinctive horror, and made up his mind _utterly to avoid it_. well aware of this resolve, his tempters determined he should have no choice. how potent, how active, is the spirit of evil! how feeble is _unassisted_, _christless_, _unprayerful_ man! boyle found himself, he could not tell how, seated at that table on that very day, where he had sworn to himself a thousand and a thousand times nothing on earth should make him sit. his ears tingled, and his eyes swam, as he listened to the opening sentence of the president's address--"gentlemen, this is leap year; therefore, it is _a year and a day_ since our last annual meeting." every nerve in boyle's body twanged in agony at the ominous, the well-remembered words. his first impulse was to rise and fly; but then--the sneers! the sneers! how many in this world, as well as poor boyle, have dreaded a sneer, and dared the wrath of an almighty and eternal god, rather than encounter the sarcastic curl of a fellow-creature's lip! the night was gloomy, with frequent and fitful gusts of chill and howling wind, as boyle, with fevered nerves and a reeling brain, mounted his horse to return home. the following morning, the well-known black steed was found, with saddle and bridle on, quietly grazing on the road-side, about half-way to boyle's country-house, and a few yards from it lay the stiffened corpse of its master. reader, the dream is horrible--truly horrible--yet not half so horrible as the reality. ah! no. no dream can picture the full, long misery of "the worm that dieth not," "the fire that is never quenched," the woe that never ends. oh, reader, if, under the poison of infidelity, you have been led to doubt the existence of hell, i pray god you may believe the awful reality ere you are in it! if god did not punish sin, his indifference to it would encourage it. if god did not punish sin, where were his holy abhorrence of it? if god did not punish sin, his kingdom would be a moral chaos. but his word declares that "we must all appear before the judgment-seat of christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad" (2 cor. v. 10). reader, as in the days of noah, so now. death threatens all who are out of christ, and, therefore, in their sins. there was then only one place of safety; there is only one place of safety now--that is, in the ark, christ. "ye must be born again." the horror you have felt in reading this dream will be no benefit to you if it is not made, in the hands of the spirit, the means of your flying to christ for refuge. oh, that in some hearts, the reading of this sad narrative may prove the means of producing the earnest cry, "deliver me from going down to the pit!" and "what must i do to be saved?" to such god's free invitation to the heavy-laden sinner to come to christ for rest is given, and jesus himself declares, "him that cometh to me, i will in no wise cast out" (john vi. 37). the scotch thistle. why the scots chose the thistle for a national insignia is told in this legend. it was at the time of an invasion, when the destinies of scotland hung upon the result of a battle soon to come. the invaders knew that the scots were desperate, and availed themselves of a dark, stormy night, and planned to fall upon the scottish army on every side at the same moment. had they been suffered to execute their plan undetected, they would certainly have succeeded in destroying the scots; but a simple accident betrayed them. when near the scottish camp, the foremost of the invaders removed the heavy shoes from their feet, so that their steps might not be heard, and thus stealthily advancing barefooted, a heavy, quick-tempered soldier trod squarely upon a huge thistle, the sharp point of which gave such sudden and exquisite pain that he cried out with a bitter curse. his cry aroused the outlying scots, and apprized them of their danger, and meeting the foe widely divided for the purpose of encompassing the camp, they were enabled easily to overcome them with great slaughter. when the scots discovered that it was to a thistle that they owed their victory, they adopted the prickly plant as their national emblem. cousin susan's note-book jottings on the life and work of father chiniquy. "beloved, believe not every spirit." we have often wondered why any one should believe that a bit of consecrated bread was the true body and soul of the lord jesus, and that, as such, it should be reverenced and adored. but our surprise abates, though our sorrow increases, when we trace the steps by which a roman catholic reaches that point of folly and superstition, as the interesting narrative of father chiniquy brings them to our view. when he was eleven or twelve years old, he met with a class of lads about the same age, to be prepared for his first communion; and there he was taught that, just as his mother punished him more seldom and less severely than his father for his faults, and just as his mother often interceded for him and saved him from punishment altogether, so mary was more pitiful, more tender, than jesus, and when he was righteously angry, his mother--the mother of all who pray to her--turned away his anger, and averted the strokes he was about to inflict on the sinner. the thought of _this_ christ--terrible, angry, unapproachable--was dark and chilling in the extreme. he seemed a being to be feared, but not beloved. and then the false church presented another christ to view--a god made with hands, not of wood or stone, but of wheaten flour. the priest's servant girl or attendant takes the dough, bakes it between two heated irons, on which are graven the letters, i. h. s., and the figure of a cross. these wafers, about four or five inches large, when well baked, are cut with a pair of scissors into smaller ones, about one inch in size, and then the priest, taking them to the altar, and pronouncing latin words for "this is my body," is supposed to turn each of these into the christ who lived and loved and suffered here, a gentle, tender, loving saviour; and the poor deluded creatures who tremble before christ in heaven, bow down and adore, when they do not eat, the paltry wafer which the priest has blessed. chiniquy himself passed whole hours, in biting wintry weather, in a church never warmed by a fire, worshipping this wafer god. he was yearning for divine sympathy and love, and hoped he had it then. and yet, though he tried to "believe a lie" so earnestly, his faith was often shaken by what he saw and heard. in a company of priests, a strange story was told of a drunken curate and his deacon, who, called to go a long journey in snowy weather, to carry the sacred wafer to a sick person, had a dispute with a traveller as to which should lead his horses into the deep snow, the cleared path being too narrow for the vehicles to pass each other. a terrible fight took place. the priest's horses took fright and returned home, breaking the sleigh all to pieces, and the little silk bag containing their "god" was lost in the snow. it was carefully sought in vain, and not till the month of june was it found, and then the wafer inside the little silver box had melted away! and the priests laughed boisterously when they heard it. did they believe what they taught the people? at another time, a blind priest had been adoring the bit of bread he had just consecrated, but when he went to eat it, it was gone. in alarm, he sent for chiniquy, who was hearing confessions not far away, and as it could nowhere be found, he knew that a rat had taken it, for the rats were both numerous and bold in that place. the old priest was inconsolable, though he blessed another piece and then concluded his devotions. but his lamentations were so deep and long that chiniquy at last lost patience, and said a word or two which greatly shocked the superstitious priest, who severely rebuked him, and ordered him for a penance to kneel every day before the fourteen images representing "the way of the cross," and say a penitential psalm before each for nine days, and on no account to tell the story of the rat to any one. he complied with these requests, and received a very gracious absolution. but on the sixth day he pierced the skin of his knees while kneeling, and the blood flowed freely, causing him great pain whenever he knelt or walked, and all because he for a moment had doubted the right of rome to call that a god which a priest could professedly create and a rat destroy! alas! for those who follow such pernicious teachings! let us pity and pray for them, and more than ever cleave to that gospel which tells us that "there is only one name given under heaven by which we must be saved"--"one mediator between god and men, the man christ jesus," who lives in glory, no more to suffer or die, but who is "jesus of nazareth" (acts xxii. 8), still tender and loving as when he dwelt below, while he is eternally mighty to "save to the uttermost all that come unto god by him." oh, that all our hope and confidence may rest on him--entirely on him alone! the dirge of an englishwoman. and ought the queen of england's land a gift to send by norfolk's hand to the old pope of rome, his jubilee to celebrate, with popish pomp, in grandest state, in his italian home? chalice and basin, richly made of shining gold; to him conveyed by one of his trained band. he used them both at his high mass, and proud of such a gift he was from our dear native land. our own victoria should be free, true to "the rights" she swore when she sat in the abbey old; and crown was placed upon her head, and coronation oath she said over god's word, we're told. up, english men and women all! to the red beast[2] ne'er bow at all, but leave him to his fate; for babylon will surely fall,[3] and with her, nations great and small, who follow in her wake. in days of yore she sat a queen,[4] on seven hills,[5] so vile, unclean, and shed the blood of saints. "come out of her, my people"[6] all, nor of her plagues receive at all, or listen to her plaints. the ritualists are helping fast to bring us now, as in times past, beneath the sway of rome. you silly men and (silly) women[7] all, oh, why take heed to them at all who creep into the home?[7] alas! alas! for england's queen, and english nation too, i ween, if e'er the pope gets sway! true christians ne'er will bend the knee to kiss pope's toe so impiously, nor pence to peter pay. n. p. w. _southsea._ nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise. [2] revelation xvii. 3. [3] revelation xiv. 8. [4] revelation xviii. 7. [5] revelation xvii. 9. [6] revelation xviii. 4. [7] 2 timothy iii. 6. experiences in the arctic ocean. captain adams, of the whaling steamer _maud_, which lately arrived at dundee from davis straits, has related a few interesting incidents of his voyage. when in exeter sound, captain adams was informed, by a native, of an island which was a favourite resort of the walrus, and where the animals could be often found asleep. he accordingly determined to try and secure an old specimen, and sent out four boats, with twenty-four men, to effect a capture. on arriving at the island, a large number of walrus were seen basking on the shore, and a landing was attempted, with the result that the colony soon showed their tusks, and made a deliberate attack on the boats. ten of the foremost animals had to be shot to prevent mischief, and after a severe struggle a female walrus was lassoed. a number of small ropes were then fastened about it, and the huge animal was, after immense labour, hoisted into an empty boat, to which it had to be secured, to prevent it smashing the planks. on being towed to the ship, the boat and the walrus were hoisted on board, and suitable quarters were then found for it. it is fully eighteen months old, and captain adams is hopeful that it will survive. a young live bear has also been brought home. one of the noteworthy incidents of the voyage was the landing of urio etawango (the esquimaux whom captain adams had staying in dundee over last winter) at durban, the residence of his tribe. for several days previous to the arrival of the _maud_ off durban, urio was moody and disconsolate, but he did not reveal his mind, so that the crew were ignorant of his thoughts. the conjecture was, that he was sorry to return to the rude life of an inuit, after his experience of civilized life. when the ship first arrived off durban, there was a long stretch of ice running out from the land, and urio and one of the officers travelled about fifteen miles, and lighted a fire as a signal to the tribe of his return. the signal was soon recognized, and ere long the whole tribe were seen making their way over the ice. meantime urio had returned to the ship, and he was taking a nap in his berth when the news was communicated to him of the arrival of the tribe, with his wife and child amongst them. the inuits are a very impassive race, and it was amusing to see the cool way in which urio and his wife shook hands, as though they had been parted twelve days instead of twelve months. urio showed more affection towards his child, with whom he rubbed cheeks in the manner peculiar to the inuits. but if the young wife was undemonstrative at meeting with her husband, she got into transports of joy at the sight of the numerous presents which friends of her husband in dundee had sent out to her. one of these was a pretty melodion, and the young woman's eyes sparkled when she beheld it. to the astonishment of the ship's company, she lifted the instrument and played "there is nae luck aboot the hoose," finishing with "the keel row." it was subsequently ascertained that she had learned to play several tunes on the concertina whilst resident at the american settlements on cumberland gulf. when the other presents were laid out, the delight of urio and his wife and friends was unbounded. several of the gaudy petticoats were seized, and the women put them on above their sealskin dresses, being so fond of display that the most showy articles are always worn outermost. owing to the distance of the ship from the shore, only a few of the lighter presents were removed at that time, but a month later the ship got near the land, when the remainder of the articles were put ashore and taken possession of by urio. captain adams gives the esquimaux chief the character of an honest, hard-working, warm-hearted fellow. he proved a good sailor, was beloved by all the crew, and he was a dead shot while seal-hunting. it is evident that his experience of civilized life has given him a distaste for his former mode of life, for he pleaded with captain adams to promise to take himself and his wife and child to scotland next year. captain adams is of opinion that the whaling at davis straits and greenland is virtually exhausted. he saw only seventeen whales throughout the season. singular cause of death. on friday, january 13th, mr. wynne e. baxter held an inquiry at the london hospital, whitechapel, respecting the death of moses raphael, aged thirty-two years, a commercial traveller, lately residing at bromley-by-bow, who died on the previous day in the above hospital. about six weeks previously he complained of pains in his head and also of shivers, and eventually it was decided to remove him to the hospital. until the last few weeks the deceased had been in apparently good health. he was a wonderful brain-worker, and had kept a set of books most accurately. henry muir doyle, house-surgeon, stated that the deceased, on his admission, appeared drowsy, and complained of a pain in his head. he continued in that state till the 10th, but at times appeared quite clear-headed and rational. on the 10th, symptoms of apoplexy appeared, and deceased expired at twelve o'clock the same night. witness said that, since death, he had made a most searching examination of the head and brain. on opening the former, he discovered an abscess in the brain. it was about the size of a turkey's egg, and had evidently been there some time. on removing the abscess, a penholder and nib were found protruding from the top of the right orbital plate. this had produced the abscess, and the abscess had caused death. the holder and nib must have entered the brain by way of the right eye, or through the right part of the nose. it was probable that they had been in there for a considerable time, as the bone had grown over them, and it was with difficulty they were separated. he had examined the eye, but had failed to detect any injury. it was, however, quite possible for such a thing to enter beneath the lid of the open eye, and the wound to heal up, showing no signs of the entry. the widow of the deceased man was called in, and said that her husband never mentioned to her anything about being hurt by a pen. the coroner said that the case was the most extraordinary that had ever come before him.--_times._ answer to bible enigma. (_page 41._) "_the prince of peace._"--isaiah ix. 6. t ychicus colossians iv. 7. h en zechariah vi. 14. e rastus romans xvi. 23. p arvaim 2 chronicles iii. 6. r immon joshua xv. 32. i rijah jeremiah xxxvii. 14. n ahum nahum i. 7. c arpus 2 timothy iv. 13. e lymas acts xiii. 11. o uches exodus xxviii. 11. f aith hebrews xi. 6. p erez-uzzah 2 samuel vi. 8. e lisheba exodus vi. 23. a bba romans viii. 15. c orinthians 1 corinthians vi. 19. e n-hakkore judges xv. 19. john west (aged 9 years). _biggleswade._ something about foxes. that always entertaining writer about birds and animals, j. g. wood, has a pleasant paper on "foxes" in the _child's pictorial_. the author of "homes without hands" says:-many foxes have been known to climb trees, and hide among the branches, where no dog could smell them. only a few months before these lines were written, the east kent foxhounds met near dover. the master of the hunt had been told that foxes had been seen to run up a tree, which was pointed out. a man was sent up the tree, and out came a fox, which was hidden among some ivy about twenty feet from the ground. the animal was chased, but after a while the scent failed and the fox escaped. the hunt then returned to the tree, and again sent a man up it. presently a second fox came tumbling out of the ivy, but mistook his distance, and jumped into the middle of the hounds, which tore it to pieces before it could recover from the fall. the man continued to search the tree, and a third fox leaped out, and was killed close to the south foreland. in december, 1885, a fox was found near oswestry, and after being chased for some time, it ran up a tree, to the height of at least forty feet, and hid itself among the ivy with which the tree was clothed. it was soon turned out of its shelter, and, after running for about half an hour, got away from the hounds, probably by some equally clever trick. there are foxes known which have been hunted for several seasons and never taken; and those who have seen them run, say that the animals do not seem in the least afraid of the hounds, but trot on quite gently for some time, knowing that, in the end, they will give their enemies the slip. mr. webster relates an amusing story about a cunning old american fox. it had been chased over and over again, and always escaped near the same place, namely, a wooden fence outside a plantation, which led into a thick forest. hounds were brought from great distances in order to catch this fox, but never succeeded. the fox always made its bed in the middle of a large field, and did not try to hide, but gave the hounds a good run, and then disappeared at the fence. now, in america there are no hedges, the fields being divided by railed fences. westward, where wood is almost valueless, the "snake" fence is used, but in the more cultivated parts the fence is made by fixing two strong stakes in the ground, so as to cross each other like the letter x, and nailing them together where they cross. long poles are then laid on the crossed stakes, so that the fence can be made to any height which is most convenient, the poles being seldom nailed, but held in their place by their own weight. now, foxes often run along a fence, or the top of a wall, as far as the end. then they go back for some distance on their own track, and leap off the wall as far as they can, so as to mislead the hounds. knowing this trick, mr. webber took the hounds all round the fence and the plantation, but could find no signs of the fox. at last he determined to hide himself near the place, when the hounds were again set on the fox, and try to discover the trick. after a while the fox came quite slowly until he reached the fence. then he jumped on the top rail, and ran along it for about two hundred yards, until he came opposite a dead tree, nearly sixteen feet from the fence. he paused for a moment, and, with a tremendous jump, leaped upon a tree, alighting on a large knot on the side of the trunk. then he ran up the trunk, which was slightly sloping, and entered a hollow at the top, nearly thirty feet from the ground, where he lay hid, no one even suspecting that he could leap from a fence to the tree, much less run up it. this feat was the more wonderful, because ivy does not grow out of doors in america, so that there seemed to be no foot-hold. indeed, had it not been for the knot, the fox could not have climbed the tree. [illustration: the fox sees the ear, the rabbit sees the tail.] mr. webber was so pleased with the cleverness of the fox that he would not betray the trick, but amused himself on many occasions by watching the fox baffle the hounds. sometimes the mother fox chooses a hollow tree, instead of a burrow, for her nursery. in april, 1868, a strange discovery was made in warwickshire, seven dead cubs having been found in the top of a pollard oak. it was clear that the mother had been killed, and that the poor little cubs had died of hunger. the cubs, when very young, are odd-looking little creatures--not in the least like their parents. they are pale brown in colour, have short, snub noses, like those of pug dogs, and little, short, pointed tails, not at all like the beautiful "brushes" into which they will grow in course of time. the courage of the fox is wonderful. a fox was on one occasion sent to mr. bartlett for the purpose of being stuffed. it had only three feet, and, on opening it, mr. bartlett found the missing foot in its stomach! the animal had clearly been taken in a trap, and had freed itself by biting off the foot by which it was caught. we can understand why it should bite off the foot by which it was detained, but why it should eat its own foot seems rather puzzling. i am inclined to think that it did so by mere instinct, which made it eat any morsel of bleeding flesh that came between its jaws. [if foxes are only fit to be hunted down, why are they preserved for that cruelty?--ed.] one poor stone. two masons were working together on the rear wall of a church, when one stopped the other just as he was putting a stone in its place. "don't put in that stone," he said; "it is flakey, and will soon fall to pieces." "i know it isn't a very good one, but it is so handy, and just fits here. nobody will see it up here, and it is too much trouble to get another." "don't put it in. take time to send for another. that stone won't stand the weather, and when it falls the whole building will be damaged." "i guess not. it won't hurt us, so here goes." then he lifted the stone into its place, poor, and loose-grained, and flakey as it was, covered it over with mortar, and went on with his work. nobody could see the stone, and none knew of its worthlessness but the two masons, and the church was finished and accepted. but time and the weather did their work, and soon it began to flake and crumble. every rain-storm and every hot, sultry day helped its decay, and it soon crumbled away. but that was not all, nor the worst. the loss of the stone weakened the wall, and soon a great beam which it should have supported sunk into the cavity, a crack appeared in the roof, and the rain soon made sad havoc with ceiling and fresco; so a new roof and ceiling, and expensive repairs, were the result of one poor stone being put in the place of a good one. each one of us, young or old, is building a structure for himself. the structure is our character, and every act of our lives is a stone in the building. don't work in poor stones. every mean action, every wrong act or impure word, will show itself in your after life, though it may pass unnoticed at first. let every act and word of every day be pure and right, and your character will stand the test of any time. a morning's walk in a country lane. it is pleasing, during the bright summer time, to rise early and, if our lot is so cast, to stroll into the country lanes and breathe the pure air of heaven, inhale the sweet scent of the hay, and gaze upon god's beautiful creation around us, and, if possible, learn some of the many lessons which even a tiny flower or a feeble insect may be able to teach us. one monday morning during the last summer, when staying in hampshire, we had such a walk, the memory of which, and its profitable lessons, are still fresh upon our minds. leaving the town where we were staying, we quickly found ourselves between the hedgerows, and our first impulse was to turn at once into the green fields, but another feeling led us to keep to the lane. was that change of plan the result of chance? nay; the great ruler of all things, who guides the flight of a sparrow, as surely orders the footsteps of his children. john knox had a usual seat at his table, with his back to the window. a sudden impulse led him to take another seat. that night the assassin's bullet came through the window, and but for an overruling providence, knox would have lost his life. how many such instances might be related, which shows that even more surely than the smallest wheel of some vast machinery is as readily controlled as the largest, so surely does infinite wisdom control all the great machinery of life, from its most momentous events down to the smallest circumstance, such as the movement of a leaf. "if a pestilence stalk through our land, we say, 'the lord hath done it.' is it not also his doings when an aphis creepeth on a rosebud? if an avalanche fall from the alps, we tremble at the will of providence. is not that will also concerned when the sere leaf falls from the poplar?" pursuing our walk, we soon found that we were in the most delightful of country lanes, with high hedgerows and overhanging trees, that formed a most delightful shade from the fierce burning sun, which, even at that early hour, was almost unbearable. what must be the sufferings of a traveller in the desert, with the fierce orb of day beating down upon his head, as mile after mile he traverses the burning sand without shade or water? how grateful to him must be "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land," or some delightful elim, with its seventy shady palms, and its twelve refreshing wells of water! but there is yet another person to whom a shade is more delightful than even this desert traveller, and that is, a poor sinner upon whom is beating down the threatened wrath of an offended god. when thomas bilney, as a young man, was feeling this, he endeavoured for a long time to find a shelter in some of the foolish and deceptive lies of the romish church. he gave his money for masses and performed his penances till his purse was empty, and his body reduced to great weakness, and yet no shelter could he find in these from the wrath of god. at length he purchased a greek testament, and there he found the blessed shade, for with delight he read therein, "this is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that christ jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom i am chief." well might he exclaim, as he sat down under the shadow of the cross, with great delight, "oh, blessed saying of st. paul! oh, blessed saying of st. paul!" dear young reader, have you felt your need of this precious shade? presently we noticed in the hedge a rose-bush, a large portion of which was hanging down broken--doubtless the work of some thoughtless person, who had plucked the flowers in such a reckless manner as to leave a sad memento of his thoughtless action. but people who live in glass houses must be careful what stones they throw at others. that little boy, for instance, was just as thoughtless who played with his ball in so careless a manner as to break two windows in one week. that little girl, too, was equally thoughtless who, when left at home to take care of baby, carelessly left it on the bed while she went up the street to see some dancing dogs, and who found, on her return, that the baby had fallen on the floor, and had so injured its head as to nearly result in its death. ah! and how many are now in our workhouses or prisons who would have to confess they were brought there because they did _not think_ what trouble their thoughtless actions would bring upon them! yea, we fear that there are many among the lost who would have to make the same sad confession. may the lord cause each of our young readers to think of what will be the sad consequence of seeking only after earthly pleasure. it will be worse than a destroyed rose-bush. it may be destroyed health--destroyed reputation--destroyed prospects in life--yea, and, if grace prevent not, destroyed happiness for ever. as we proceeded further up the lane, we noticed that the hedges on both sides were blooming with wild roses, which were truly charming to behold. our first thought on seeing them was of the dear ones at home (many miles away), and how we should like to transport them to this shady bower, to enjoy what we were beholding. but, as this desire was impracticable, the next thought was, to gather some of these roses and take them home, that they, too, might, in some measure, share in our pleasure. henceforth our endeavours to please others made our walk doubly pleasant. a selfish person, young or old, can never be happy. but find one who tries to share his pleasures or comforts with others, and he is surely happy--like the little girl who stretched her small cloak round her young brother to shelter him from the wintry blast, although, strictly speaking, the cloak was scarcely big enough for herself. and how happy was that little girl who nursed a sick cat in the garret, and shared her meals with it, till pussy was quite well again! boys and girls, share your pleasures with others. the next thought was, to look after the little roses, knowing they would last longer than the big ones. yes, fellow-teachers, look after the little rosebuds just blooming into life. who can tell but what the master may use you to gather them from the world, that they may, by his grace, be prepared for his mansion above? _but the thorns!_ not a single little rosebud without a thorn, yet so beautiful in other respects. before adam's fall, roses grew in eden without thorns. thorns are a badge of the curse, and even the smallest child has the thorn of sin. and how often we see it manifest! the thorn of pride, the thorn of self-will, the thorn of temper, the thorn of deceit. but, dear young friends, are these thorns a trouble to you? would you like their power destroyed, and guilt pardoned? listen, then, to god's way of salvation. as we gathered the roses, the thorns pricked our hands. but never mind that. we love them too much to mind a few pricks. have you ever thought how the thorns (as long as your finger) were plaited into a crown, and pierced the head of jesus? yes, he loved his children so much that he willingly endured even the "nails," as well as the thorns, that they might be for ever saved from the wrath to come. a child once cried for fear when a wasp was near, but his mother said, "don't fear, my child! it has left its sting in my hand. it won't hurt you." yes, jesus has been pricked and stung by sin that his people may for ever be delivered from its fatal power. may you, dear young friends, from a living faith, be enabled to commit your soul into his keeping who is able to "save unto the uttermost all that come unto god through him." but how easily many of the roses scattered! we only touched the branch, and they were gone. such is life! we may be in full bloom one day, but in a moment we may be carried into eternity. "we all do fade as a leaf." the longest life is but brief. then well may we pray- "prepare me, gracious god, to stand before thy face; thy spirit must the work perform, for it is all of grace." ebenezer. "keep the star in sight." on a wild spot on the coast of cornwall i fell in with will treherne. he was as sound an "old salt" as ever manned a lifeboat or went aloft in a gale of wind. he was getting an old man when i used to see him sitting on the beach, when his day's work was done, smoking his pipe and gazing at the evening star. he told us boys stirring stories of sea life and adventure. one evening he narrated the following:-"thirty years ago, in just such a night as this, the wind whistling as it does now, with the sea rising, and with as crazy a craft as seamen ever sailed in, i found myself drifting along a dangerous coast. "our captain was an experienced one, and, when he saw what weather we were threatened with, he took his place at the wheel, and did his best to keep our courage up. he was in terribly poor health, but his spirits rose above his bodily weakness, and he gave his orders with a pluck and decision that made men of every one of us. "'will treherne,' he cried, 'stand by me if you can be spared. my strength is going. do you see that star right ahead?' "'yes, sir.' "'if my strength should fail, steer right ahead for that, and you are safe. and oh, remember, will, that there is another star you must always keep in view if you are to get safely into port at last.' "i knew what he meant. he was pointing me to the lord jesus christ, for he was as good a christian as he was a captain, and he never lost a chance of saying a word that might steady us youngsters, and make us think of our souls. i have heard many a sermon since that night in the storm, when he told me to keep the star ahead, but none took more hold on me than that one that night, when i lost my truest and best friend." "did you lose him that night?" i asked. "yes, my lad," the sailor answered, sadly. "his hour was come. when he could stand the gale no longer, he shouted as loud as he could, 'keep the star in sight, my lads; keep the star in sight!' then he was helped down to the cabin, and i never saw him alive again. i was lashed to the wheel, and though the spray well-nigh blinded me, yet i managed to keep the star in sight, as the first officer gave his orders for the working of the ship. "after two hours of steering through a narrow and dangerous channel, we found ourselves in a friendly sea. the star had guided us right. "when the ship was in safety, and my turn of work was over, i went down to the captain's cabin. a flag was thrown over his body, but his manly, resolute face, which even death had not much altered, was visible. i knelt down there and prayed god to guide me through the storms of life; and i believe i can say that, from that night, in spite of my faults and failings, i have kept the star in sight. now you will know why i am such a star-gazer; and if i may give you a bit of counsel, my lad, let me advise you to seek grace to begin and steer your course by the star of bethlehem; and, if your eye is fixed on that star, you will come safely through the dangers of life into the port of peace at last."--_chatterbox._ answer of george iii. to lord grenville, when applied to on the roman catholic bill, march, 1807. my lord,--i am one of those that respect an oath. i have firmness sufficient to quit my throne and retire to a cottage, or to place my neck upon a block on a scaffold, if my people require it; but i have not resolution enough to break an oath--an oath i took in the most solemn manner at my coronation. [god grant that the legislators of the present day may feel speedily the justice and wisdom of the noble sentiment of this illustrious monarch.] the late prince consort's opinion of popery. "it is an open secret," says the _christian_, "that the queen insists on exercising her right of private judgment on all ecclesiastical affairs in which she has to act. before giving her assent to the selection of a golden mass bowl as her jubilee present to the pope of rome, the fact possibly escaped her majesty's memory that the late prince consort's opinion of romanism was summed up in adam smith's statement, as follows--'the greatest conspiracy ever hatched against human liberty, civil and religious, is the roman catholic church.' this quotation appears on the title-page of the 'prince consort's speeches,' edited by his royal highness himself." a bible with pins in it. it was an old bible, a family bible, a well-worn bible--the bible of an old lady who had read it, and walked by it, and fed on it, and prayed over it for a long lifetime. as she grew older and older, her sight began to fail, and she found it hard to find her favourite verses. but she could not live without them, so what did she do? she stuck a pin in them, one by one; and after her death they counted 168. when people went to see her, she would open her bible, and feeling over the page after her pin, would say, "read there," or "read here"; and she knew pretty well what verse was stuck by that pin, and what by this pin. she could indeed say of her precious bible, "i love thy commandments above gold; yea, above fine gold; they are sweeter to me than honey and the honey-comb." bible enigma. the father of a blind man. an ancient musical instrument. a measure of time. an immense fish. a non-believer. a foreign language. a relation of jacob. an animal. one of joseph's sons. a domestic animal. a very valuable stone. a particular time in the day. another word for a letter. joseph smith (aged 12 years). thrilling scenes at the forth bridge works. two more fatal accidents were, some time since, reported from the forth bridge works, making thirty-four since the work began. one of the engineers of the bridge, mr. benjamin baker, recently gave a lecture in dundee, descriptive of the work, in the course of which he gave the following account of the dangers of the undertaking:-much of the work, he said, required men of exceptional hardiness, courage, and presence of mind. in august last, six men were standing on a few planks hanging by iron hooks, at a height of about 140 feet above sea level. one of the hooks gave way without any warning, and in a fraction of a second the planks slipped away from under the men's feet. short as the time was, with the lightning quickness of thought, three of the six men saved themselves by springing at and clutching hold of pieces of the steel work. another man plunged headlong down twice the height of the tay bridge into the water. his hardiness was such that the terrible flight through mid-air and shock on striking the water--a shock which he had seen break planks like matches--did not incapacitate him from grasping the rope which was cast to him, or from resuming work after he had recovered from the immediate effects of the shock. as regards courage, two of the men were left hanging by the arms with a clean drop of 140 feet below them. although presumably unnerved by seeing their comrades take that terrible flight, the first man reached by the rescue party said, "i can hold on. go to the other man; he is dazed." such workmen upheld the best traditions of their fellow-craftsmen in the past. our bible class. "_and the glory which thou gavest me i have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one._"--john xvii. 22. "the glory of the lord endureth for ever"; and in this sublime prayer jesus speaks of the glory that he had with his father before the world began, and asks that he may be glorified in finishing his saving work. but what is the "glory" spoken of in our text? two thoughts must guide us to its meaning--first, the father had given it to his son; secondly, jesus had given it to his disciples. christ is god, and, as god, is, and ever must be, glorious. but this glory was _not given_ him; it was _his own_. christ is the one mediator between god and men--the only way to heaven and happiness--the all-sufficient and only saviour of sinners, who redeemed them by his blood, and saves them by his life. but his glory, as mediator and saviour, he will not give to another. he received it, and is crowned with it, _alone_. yet he says, "i have given my disciples"--"the men thou gavest out of the world"--"the glory thou hast given me." he is the truth. his words were always divinely full of heavenly meaning. let us try by other scriptures to understand this one. in isaiah xl. 10, we read, "behold, the lord god will come with strong hand"--or will come as a mighty one--"behold, his reward is with him, and the recompense of his work [see margin] is before him." in hebrews xii. 2, we are told that, "for the joy that was set before him, he endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down," now and for ever, "at the right hand of god." this recompense, this joy, is christ's glory. and what is it? in one word, it is _salvation_--the satisfaction, the honour, and delight, of rescuing, and eternally enriching, the people whom he loved from eternity, and will for ever love. as cowper sweetly sings- "of all the crowns jehovah wears, salvation is his dearest claim; that gracious sound well-pleased he hears, and owns emmanuel for his name." in this--his joy, his glory--he makes his people share here in this world, and in this present time- "before they reach the heavenly fields, or tread the golden streets." they are interested in his salvation, and on this word we may reflect a little, for "interest" has a two-fold meaning. it means, benefit or profit; and it also means, friendly, loving concern for a person or an object. if i am interested in a paying business, i share in its profits, and am benefited by it; but i am interested in many things that bring me no money, and i gladly give them all the help i can, because i long for their success and prosperity. and in this double way believers are interested in christ's salvation. they are for ever benefited by it. his death secures their endless life; his sorrow yields them joy and peace; and his poverty has made them rich for evermore. "thanks be unto god for his unspeakable gift," is the glad cry of all who know that this precious salvation is their own. then comes the other form of interest--loving, prayerful desire that christ may be glorified; that "the kingdom of god may come"; that sinners may be brought to the saviour. the burdened heart, longing for peace, may be too full of its own sorrows to think much of others; but the forgiven child of god, rejoicing in jesus as his own dear, almighty friend, says, or desires to say- "now will i tell to sinners round what a dear saviour i have found; i'll point to his redeeming blood, and say, 'behold the way to god!'" thus the apostles laboured to carry the gospel wherever they could travel, though, by so doing, they were exposed to persecution, suffering, and death. but they longed to spread the joyful news abroad, and to be the means of leading their hearers to jesus; and when they "saw the grace of god," they were glad with an unspeakable joy. and, so far as we are animated with christ's spirit, we, too, shall seek after the same blessed results. and jesus has given his glory to his people that they may all be united together, even as he and his father are one--one in heart, and mind, and aims. we hear a great deal just now about the "unity of christendom," or the "christian world," and some would like to blend the greek and roman with the english church. now, what sort of union would that be? others do not go quite so far, and yet they would unite together a variety of creeds and people by dropping every important difference, and giving up whatever was not generally acceptable. but let us never forget that there can be no christian union without christ; no holy unity unless founded on god's word. gas jets affixed in a certain way to our ceilings are called "sun-lights." they are only artificial lights, after all; and whatever name it may assume, unless christ is the centre of unity, the union is not christian, for "if any one have not the spirit of christ, he is none of his." but union to and in christ is very real and true even now, and those who follow jesus can hold sweet intercourse together in this world. "grace be with all them that love our lord jesus christ in sincerity." we are, at best, imperfect in the present state. we know but in part. our love is often cold, and sin still dwells in the heart; but in the glory that is yet to come, we, if we are his, shall know, even as we have been known of him. perfect love will cast out all distance and coldness, and perfect holiness will possess every saved one. "beloved," wrote the same apostle who recorded the saviour's prayer, "now are we the sons of god, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." may this glorious prospect be ours, through his grace. our next subject will be, matthew vi. 22, 23--_mental eyes: darkened and illuminated_. yours affectionately, h. s. l. a word to self-seekers. i would not lead the selfish life that never seeks to throw a pleasant ray of happiness on other people's woe. i scorn the folks who will not strive to lessen want and care; nor lend a helping hand to those who have so much to bear. is there not misery enough on this terrestrial ball to spring some sympathetic chord within the hearts of all? oh, ye who only seek your own- who hold yourselves so dear that ye can never give the sad one simple word of cheer- believe me, if ye wish to spend a life of happy ease, seek not your own, but how ye may your weary brothers please. and he who marks each gentle deed of loving sympathy, may whisper his approving word- "ye did it unto me." carrie light. _brighton._ prize essay. self-help. there are six important heads which this subject may be placed under, viz., industry, patience, perseverance, cheerfulness, courage, and prudence. _industry._--this is a very important thing in life, and you will never be any good to the world without you possess it. there have been men who, by their patient industry, have done their country a great deal of good by inventing engines and machines to mitigate the labours of men; and some of these men have been mobbed and nearly killed by their townsmen, who thought their work would be taken away instead of enlarged, and very often their inventions have been broken to pieces. solomon, in the book of ecclesiastes ix. 10, says, "whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might"; and in proverbs vi. 6--"go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise." _patience._--patience is a very needful thing to self-help, for without it you will not be able to do anything that requires time and trouble. you have need of patience when you are waiting for a thing which you are in great haste to obtain. david says, in psalm xxxvii. 7, "rest in the lord, and wait patiently for him." _perseverance._--there are some people who, if they start a certain thing, have not the necessary perseverance to finish it; while others, who persevere, succeed. great men you read of in history would never have been so distinguished had it not been for their perseverance. bernard palissy, who discovered the white enamel for pottery, had a great many trials to bear, and was years before he perfected it; but he persevered, and at last succeeded.[8] [8] for a fuller account of palissy, see little gleaner for july, 1879. oh, that we may be taught to trust in christ, and pray, with the poet-"lord, hast thou made me know thy ways? conduct me in thy fear; and grant me such supplies of grace that i may persevere." _cheerfulness._--this is a very essential thing to self-help. if you have a task, and you have somebody to cheer you up, your task feels lighter, and the time passes better. people who are dull, and not cheerful, find the time pass slower, and the work seems heavier. there have been men who have been cheerful even when they have been in great difficulties. christ said to the man sick of the palsy, "son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee." _courage._--moral courage is one of the most important features in this subject. you will be more likely to succeed if you are bold and courageous. it is right to be courageous in a good cause, but not in a wrong one. it is real courage, when wicked persons try to entice you to drinking, gambling, and other vices, if you boldly answer, "no." solomon says, in the book of proverbs xxviii. 1--"the wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous are as bold as a lion." _prudence, or foresight._--it is wise to consider what the consequences of your actions will be. some people do not stop to do so, and thus run needlessly into danger. you cannot rightly practise self-help without you are prudent. it is very imprudent to risk life or anything unnecessarily, or to leave things to the last minute or two. if you are imprudent, you will regret it in after life. in proverbs xvi. 21, it says, "the wise in heart shall be called prudent." self-help is not a spiritual thing, but a temporal one; but you cannot truly succeed in these things without god's help and blessing. may we, in the things of daily life, and especially in spiritual things, be led to say, like david, in psalm cxxi., "i will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. my help cometh from the lord, which made heaven and earth," remembering that he does not approve selfish living, but says, "to do good and to communicate, forget not."--(_abridged._) f. e. h. andrews (aged 13 years 5 months). 1, _tavistock terrace, upper holloway, london, n._ [lilly rush, w. e. cray (age not given), a. m. cray, e. b. west, a. pease, and margaret creasey have sent fair essays, especially the first-named, and we hope they will still persevere.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "from the loom to a lawyer's gown; or, self-help that was not all for self," presented by a friend who reads the gleaner. the subject for may will be, "how to be useful in the world," and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "notable workers in humble life." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of april.] one good mother is worth a hundred schoolmasters. in the home, she is the "loadstone to all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes." imitation of her is constant--imitation which bacon likens to "a globe of precepts." but example is far more than precept. in its instruction is action. interesting items. the elephant's strength.--the ordinary strength of an elephant is calculated as equal to that of 147 men. a fight among lions.--a fearful struggle took place recently between eight lions in a cage at the menagerie at liverpool exhibition. one lion, valued at £150, was killed. the red-wood forests of california, oregon, and washington territory are, perhaps, the most wonderful of the world. the average yield per acre is 100,000 feet lumber, or 64,000,000 feet to the square mile. sir john coode's scheme for the protection of the foreshore at hastings, by means of two stone groynes and an extended breastwork at the east end of the town, was completed last august. the total cost has been £30,000. sir john remarked that the beach was accumulating at the rate of 40,000 to 50,000 tons per annum. extraordinary case of strangulation.--an extraordinary case has occurred at howick, near preston. a little boy named fisher, the son of a farmer, was climbing an apple tree, when he slipped between two branches. his jacket turned up fast round his neck, and as he could not get a button undone, he was strangled. a monster dogfish.--a gigantic dogfish, weighing ten cwt., has been hauled ashore by a fisherman at mazargues, in the department of the bouches-du-rhone. the animal made a desperate struggle on the bank, and its head had to be battered in with a club before it could be mastered. a monster of a similar kind, some time ago, ate up a boatman and his boy, whose boat had been capsized in the river. it has been calculated that, after prince von bismarck's recent great speech, 1,218 telegrams, containing 194,296 words, were despatched to 326 different places on the world's surface. two hundred and thirty-five telegraph clerks were employed at sixty hughes' apparatus, 155 morse's, and seven estienne's, to carry out the work; and the number of words in the chancellor's speech is computed at 10,997. a peculiar case.--captain russell has had under treatment a valuable and favourite cat, belonging to a resident of spittlegate, grantham. the poor animal was taken with a choking sensation about three weeks ago, and, as it could not eat, soon grew very thin, and appeared to be going "the way of all flesh." after vain attempts at restoration, pussy was taken to the afore-named veterinary surgeon, who prescribed for her. she was fed with a spoon for some days, and at length a substance was discovered to be forming by the side of the neck. supposing it to be a boil, he lanced it, and found it to contain a piece of metal, which he at once extracted, in the shape of a sewing-needle with a piece of cotton attached. the cat is now recovered, and but little the worse for the painful operation.--_grantham journal._ the emperor of china, who is about to be married, is doing the thing handsomely. his wedding gifts to his young bride include a gold seal richly inlaid with jewels, the handle being formed by two gold dragons; ten piebald horses with complete trappings; ten gilt helmets and cuirasses: 1,000 pieces of satin of the first quality, and 200 pieces of cotton material; 200 ounces of gold; 10,000 ounces of silver; one gold tea service, and one silver tea service; twenty horses with complete trappings, and twenty without. the parents of the lady receive also 100 ounces of gold; one gold tea set; 5,000 taels of silver; one silver tea set; 500 pieces of silk; 1,000 pieces of cotton material; six horses, completely harnessed; a helmet and cuirass; a bow and a quiver, with arrows; each parent one court dress for summer, and one for winter, one every-day dress, and a sable coat. the brothers and servants of the bride also receive rich and costly presents. from dover to calais in twenty-five minutes.--a novel ship has recently been invented by mr. thomas hitt, of brandon, suffolk. she is somewhat of a semi-twin type, one-third wider than the ordinary sailing ship, but not so wide as a paddle-steamer. between the supposed divided halves, which ascend to about eighteen inches above the water-line, is a wheel-race, extending from bow to stern. in the centre of this wheel-race a pit is formed, into which the lower part of the periphery of the wheel descends. the wheel, when rotating, drives the water through the race, and out at the stern, with great velocity. the maximum result of experiments indicates that a ship of 500 tons, with a wheel of 50 feet diameter, making 50 revolutions per minute, will attain a speed of 56 knots an hour, after allowing one-fourth for slip and other contingencies. although the wheel is described as making 50 revolutions per minute, it may reach 100, more or less. this excess of power may be utilized for the production and storage of electricity, to be used either for illuminating purposes, or for propelling the ship when becalmed. a faithful mastiff.--john templeton is a blacksmith, who owns a fine specimen of the english mastiff. recently mr. templeton was working at his forge, putting a new steel in the point of a pick. the steel was slightly burned in the heating, and, instead of welding, flew into half-a-dozen pieces. one piece struck the blacksmith above the right eye with such force as to fasten itself in firmly. he staggered and fell backwards. how long he was unconscious he does not know, but when he revived, the dog lay in the middle of the shop, crying almost like a human being, and rubbing his jaws in the dust of the floor. the piece of steel which had struck mr. templeton lay a short distance from the dog. the faithful animal had seized the hot steel with his teeth, and drew it from the frontal bone of mr. templeton's head. the dog's mouth was badly burned.--_albany journal._ the discoveries at pompeii.--a naples correspondent says--"the waxed tablets found, together with silver vases, &c., at pompeii, all belong to one woman, decidia margaris, and are contracts precisely similar to those found twelve years ago belonging to one lucio cecilio giocondo; but unlike those, which were enclosed in a strong iron box, and had undergone a process of carbonization which preserved their legibility for eighteen centuries, the present ones were only folded, together with the vases, in a thick cloth, which the rain-water had penetrated, reducing the wood to pulp, and wearing away the wax on which the characters are impressed, so that only some fragments preserved the writing; and a few days after the discovery these too were lost, the wax separating from the wooden tablets and breaking up into minute particles. there remains now only one tablet, which has been naturally preserved by being impregnated with oxide of copper. it is the contract for the sale of young slaves to decidia margaris."--_daily news._ a genuine fast of twenty days.--an extraordinary case of prolonged fasting is reported in connection with the severe weather. on december 22nd, 1887, a peasant woman from opergrabern, near vienna, went to receive some money that was owing to her at a small village a few miles distant. the amount was not paid, and the woman had only four kreutzers in her pocket, with which she bought two rolls of bread. on the way home she was caught in a heavy snow-storm, and took shelter in a small hut in a vineyard. the storm continuing, she decided to spend the night where she was, and divested herself of some of her upper garments to wrap up her feet. the next morning, when she awoke, she could not rise, being partially paralyzed by the cold. her cries for help were unheard, and it was only on the 11th of january she was found by a woodcutter's wife, having been twenty days without food. she was in a precarious condition, but there is some hope of her recovery. youthful heroines.--the royal humane society have awarded their highest honour--a silver medal--to a young lady named fanny rowe, only fifteen years of age, daughter of the rev. j. g. rowe, vicar of topcroft, bungay, for saving the life of a lad named franchs, at neuchatel, under circumstances of great gallantry. the lad was playing by the jetty with his brother, when he fell into deep water. his brother jumped in to save him, but, not being able to swim, was soon in difficulties. a number of men ran about crying out "who can swim?" but no one attempted a rescue until miss rowe came up, kicked off her shoes, but otherwise fully dressed, without a moment's hesitation rushed into the water, swam to the place, dived, and caught the younger brother, but could not keep hold of him, his hair being so short. she dived again and caught him, this time by the ear, and brought him to the jetty, where he was lifted out, and then she returned and saved the elder brother. the bronze medal was also unanimously bestowed upon miss m. strachy, aged seventeen, daughter of her majesty's consul at dresden, for saving miss taylor at sandy island, heligoland. zion chapel, folkestone.--the new year's meeting of the sunday school took place on january 16th. after doing justice to the tea, the children and friends met in the chapel, where mr. weeks, of tenterden, opened the meeting with the reading of the fifty-fifth chapter of isaiah and prayer. some of the children repeated the epistle of james, having learned various portions of it. mr. brown, of tadworth, spoke on the beginnings of true religion, using the alphabet--a for attention to various good things, and not to wickedness; b for the bible; c for conviction, which he described as a sure and certain knowledge of our sinful state, not fancies floating in the mind, and he illustrated it by a condemned convict's knowledge of his own sad case. mr. weeks then sought to encourage the children in the ways of obedience to parents and storing scripture in the memory, of which latter no enemy could rob them. he also spoke to the teachers and friends, giving a word of encouragement. mr. smith spoke of the need of jesus christ being formed in the heart as the only hope for lost sinners, after which the yearly prizes were handed to their respective owners, also the gifts of clothing by an old friend of the children. a few words of prayer closed a happy meeting. e. m. [illustration: "are you sure that nothing is left undone?" (_see page 74._)] an incident in the life of a barrister. i was engaged in my study one morning, when a client of mine, a mr. b----, was introduced. he was in a state of great excitement, having heard that the lord chancellor was to pronounce judgment on his case that day. "are you sure," he inquired, "that nothing is left undone? if judgment is given against me, i am a ruined man. all my hopes are centred in its results. on the issue hang the prospects of my darling wife and children. oh, tell me, can anything further be done to, if possible, ensure success?" i endeavoured to calm him by saying that we were fully prepared, and that counsel's opinion was in his favour. this assurance having appeased him a little, he left me, appointing to meet again in an hour at the court. the chancellor had just taken his seat as i entered, and was proceeding to give judgment in my client's case. casting my eyes around, i observed poor mr. b---seated on a bench, immediately opposite his lordship. he did not recognize me, for his entire attention was riveted on the oracle from whence was to proceed the eagerly wished for, but dreaded decision. to look upon that man was painful indeed; and although many years of professional experience had familiarized me to such scenes, yet i could not behold him without emotion, and trembled to think of the awful effect an adverse decision would have on a mind so sensitive as his, and wrought to the highest degree of painful suspense. my fears were but too soon realized. after an elaborate and carefully considered review of the case, a final decree was awarded against my client. never shall i forget the agony of despair depicted on his countenance at that moment as, rushing from the court, he hissed into my ear the fearful words, "oh, i am undone!" it was a damp november day on which the circumstance above narrated occurred. wending my way homewards through chancery lane, the words of my unfortunate client recurred to me. "will _my_ case be called on to-day?" thought i; "and is nothing left undone to ensure me a favourable decree at the hands of that eternal judge before whom i must stand, sooner or later?" dear reader, you and i have both a case of vital importance, the judgment of which will be eternal happiness or eternal misery. if we have no friend at court, no skilful advocate to plead, anything of our own--any pleadings based upon our own works or performances--will most assuredly fail. a form without the power will not stand the test of that tremendous, awful day. all false coverings will then be stripped off. naked, ruined, and undone for ever must we be unless found clothed with the righteousness of jesus christ, the god-man. the lines of one of our poets have aptly described the case- "a debtor to jehovah's law, my soul by nature stood, and justice was about to draw his sword to shed my blood. "'stand forth! stand forth!' he sternly cried, 'and pay me what you owe!' "'tis done,' said jesus, 'for i died; loose him, and let him go!'" what a solemn consideration it is that i who write and you who read will stand in one case or the other--"loose him, and let him go!" or, "bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer darkness!" i ask myself--and may i ask you--does it cause you any searchings of heart, any anxious thoughts, any tossings to and fro upon your bed? "how stands the case, my soul, with thee?" are matters right between god and thy soul? have i any reason to hope that i shall be acquitted? or are you, gallio-like, caring for none of these things, "dancing the hellward road apace"? this we are sure of--that the judgment of god will be according to truth, and those who die in their sins, destitute of an interest and hope in christ, will have to confess that the judge of all the earth has done right. your debts are great--too great for you ever to pay. are you trying to wipe off part of the score, endeavouring to do your best, and trusting jesus christ to make up the rest? hopeless case, for-"could thy zeal no respite know, could thy tears for ever flow, all for sin could not atone; christ must save, and christ alone." but if, from a sense of your true state and condition, your entirely bankrupt state, with no hope or help in yourself, you have fallen down at jesus' feet, crying, "lord, save, or i perish!" you are on safe ground. thy surety paid for thee; and thou shalt know it in his own time, to the joy of thy heart. a barrister. modes of travel in persia. there are two modes of travel in persia, caravan and chappah. the former is slow, at the pace which loaded mules can follow, say twenty-five miles a day. to travel in caravan means not to go with a large company, but in this leisurely manner. hence our word "caravan," because large trains in the east must necessarily travel in caravan style. chappah travelling, on the other hand, means rapid going, at an average of eighty to a hundred and fifty miles per diem. this can only be done by riding at a steady gallop--horses rarely trot in the east--and changing horses at short intervals. the post carriers invariably travel chappah. 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. after such overwhelming sorrow, surely they needed the tenderest sympathy; but only a few days elapsed before the parish priest (who had, years before, tried to get their bible away) called on them, and, after a few cold words, he said that something was owing for the prayers that had been offered for the departed, and he would be glad to receive it! poor mrs. chiniquy assured him that, although her husband had received a considerable income as a notary, yet their expenses had been so heavy that he had left her little besides debts. the house he had had built, and the piece of land he purchased not long ago, were only half paid for, "and i fear," said she, "i shall lose them both. i hope, sir," she added, "that you are not the man to take away from us our last piece of bread." "but, madam," was the cruel answer, "the money for the masses offered for the rest of your husband's soul must be paid!" for some time the widow sat shedding silent tears. at length she raised her tearful eyes, and said, "sir, you see that cow in the meadow? her milk, and the butter made from it, form the principal part of my children's food. i hope you will not take her away from us. if, however, such a sacrifice must be made to deliver my poor husband's soul from purgatory, take her as the payment of the masses to be offered to extinguish those devouring flames." "very well, madam," said the priest, rising, and walking out. they anxiously watched to see what he would do; and, to their horror, he went straight to the meadow and drove away their useful and cherished favourite. poor mrs. chiniquy nearly fainted; and when able to speak, she said-"dear child, if ever you become a priest, never be so hard-hearted towards poor widows as are the priests of to-day." those words were never forgotten, as our next story will show. many years had passed. the child had become a man and a priest, when he was invited to preach a course of three sermons in the church of a rich curate. on the second day, walking with him to the parsonage, a very poor, ragged, and miserable man took off his hat, and tremblingly addressed the curate, saying-"you know, sir, that my poor wife died, and was buried ten days ago; but i was too poor to have a funeral service sung for her, and i fear she is in purgatory. almost every night i see her in my dreams in burning flames, and she cries to me to help her. will you be so kind as to sing that high mass for her?" "of course," answered the curate. "your wife is suffering in purgatory. give me five dollars, and i will sing the mass to-morrow morning." the poor man replied that his wife had long been ill, and he was too distressed to pay the money, and begged that five low masses might be said for her. the priest told him he must pay five shillings for them, but the wretched man declared he had no money, and that he and his children were starving. "well, well," said the curate, "i saw two beautiful sucking pigs before your house this morning. give me one of them." "those pigs, sir," said the man, "were given me by a charitable neighbour, that i might raise them for my children's food next winter. they will surely starve if i give my pigs away." chiniquy could not wait to hear the conclusion of the shameful bargain. he hurried away to his room, refused to take tea, and spent a sleepless night wondering whether the church of rome could be the church of christ. next morning, he gave five dollars to the poor man, and went breakfastless to church. after preaching, he was led by the curate to his dining-room. the long fast had made him very hungry, and the foremost dish was a delicious sucking pig. he had cut a piece, and was just about to eat, when the scene of yesterday flashed across his mind, and he inquired, "was this _that_ sucking pig?" "yes," replied the curate, with a hearty laugh, "it is just that. if we cannot take the poor woman's soul out of purgatory, we will, at all events, eat a fine sucking pig." the priestly guests all joined in the laugh except chiniquy, who, with a burst of righteous indignation, pushed his plate away, and in a few thrilling words told them what he thought of the whole proceeding. of course they were very angry; but the sucking pig was untouched by any one. thus were chiniquy's eyes gradually opened, and he "saw men as trees walking," until the final touch gave him to "see all things clearly." lord, open thou our eyes, and give us clearer and yet clearer light, that we not only may forsake every evil way, but may follow thee with full purpose of heart. questions with answers. what is earth, sexton? a place to dig graves. what is earth, rich man? a place to work slaves. what is earth, grey-beard? a place to grow old. what is earth, miser? a place to dig gold. what is earth, schoolboy? a place for my play. what is earth, maiden? a place to be gay. what is earth, seamstress? a place where i weep. what is earth, sluggard? a good place to sleep. what is earth, soldier? a place for a battle. what is earth, herdsman? a place to raise cattle. what is earth, widow? a place of true sorrow. what is earth, tradesman? i'll tell you to-morrow. what is earth, sick man? 'tis nothing to me. what is earth, sailor? my home is the sea. what is earth, statesman? a place to win fame. what is earth, author? i'll write there my name. what is earth, monarch? for my realm 'tis given. what is earth, christian? the gateway of heaven. some account of the lord's gracious dealings with mary stubbs, who died at godmanchester, december 19th, 1887, aged twenty-four years. we cannot say when, or by what means, the lord first implanted the seed of eternal life in our sister's soul; but as in nature, so in grace--there is first the dropping of the seed, then the blade and the ear, and after that, the full corn in the ear; the full corn in many, as in our sister's case, not appearing until they are laid down by a fatal disease. by letters which i received from her the last few years, i had a hope the seed was sown from the love which she manifested to the truth and people of god. at the same time, many of her words and actions manifested much impatience, showing that she was a child of fallen adam, and that she was under another influence than the holy spirit of god. this was a trial to us, giving us many errands to the throne of grace, not knowing what the end might be; and not only was it a grief to us, but also to herself. some months ago, writing to me, she said, "i feel so very unhappy. i wish i had never been born, for i do not feel fit to live, nor yet fit to die." her sister, with whom she lived, says, "once or twice before her last affliction have we found her weeping, after she returned from the house of god--once especially, when mr. oldfield spoke from the words, 'thou shalt preserve me from trouble,' at which time she seemed sorely tried; and referring to it on her dying bed, said, 'satan did tempt me so then; but what a mercy god preserved me! i felt that, if i had died then, i must have been lost.'" at another time she found her in great distress, and, inquiring the cause, she said, "i feel so ill! i do not think i shall live long, and i know i am not prepared to die." about three weeks after this, she went to st. ives' anniversary, and heard mr. hull preach from the text, "in this place will i give you peace." the words seemed to have an abiding-place in her heart, and proved a promise to her in her affliction. they were as "bread cast upon the waters, found and enjoyed after many days." when she returned from st. ives, she looked quite ill, and said, "it seems as though i am not to go anywhere and enjoy myself." a few weeks after this, she took to her room, which she never left again. but, as her bodily strength decreased, she became more and more anxious about eternal things, and said to her sister and one of the members, who were sitting with her, "i do not think i shall get better. if i was sure i should go to heaven, i should not mind dying; but i keep thinking of all my past sins, and all that i have done and said. do you think the lord will forgive?" and with great earnestness she exclaimed, "oh, do tell me--do you think he will forgive all my sins, and take me to heaven?" they told her they felt sure, if the lord had made her sins a burden to her, and enabled her to beg of him to cleanse her in his precious blood, he would, in his own time, answer her petitions, and they encouraged her to give him no rest until he spoke home peace and pardon to her soul. on saturday, november 12th, mr. oldfield called to see her. she asked him if he thought the lord would forgive her. he assured her that, if the lord had made her long for his pardoning love, he would appear for her. he had sweet liberty in prayer on her behalf, and, having read at her request the twenty-seventh psalm, he inquired if she had any favourite hymns. she replied, "yes--'there is a fountain filled with blood.'" he remarked, "the dying thief felt he needed that fountain, and so do you and i, mary." she answered, "yes, we do." in the evening, two of her sisters came to see her, and she exclaimed, "what! are you both come so far to see me? i am not worthy," and burst into tears. on sunday, november 13th, she said but little during the day, but still kept begging of the lord to forgive her all her sins, and take her to heaven; and in the evening he answered her prayer, and sweetly spoke home peace and pardon to her heart. she exclaimed, "jesus has pardoned all my sins! yes, yes, he has told me so! i am so happy! oh, so happy! jesus! jesus! thou art precious to my soul! oh, come and take me! i long to be with you, dear jesus!" and, with solemn sweetness, she added, "'yea, 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.' "lord, i believe thou hast prepared, unworthy though i be, for me a rich, a free reward, a golden harp for me. "jesus is 'the chiefest among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely.'" thus she laid, blessing and praising his dear name till she was completely exhausted. early the next morning she said, "i am still on this bed of affliction. the lord has spared me one more day, but i hope he will soon come and fetch me. i do so long to go, but "i must wait a little longer, till his appointed time, and glory in the knowledge that such a home is mine. "yes, 'that such a home is mine!' i shall wear a white robe there, and sing 'hallelujah! hallelujah!' "yes, loudest of the crowd i'll sing, whilst heaven's resounding mansions ring with shouts of sovereign grace." on monday, november 14th, i and my brother visited her for the first time. she was at first overcome, but soon revived, and said, "i am so pleased to see you both. i asked the lord to spare me to see you all before i died. how kind he is to hear me!" i spent, altogether, the greatest part of four days with her, and those will be reckoned amongst the happiest days of my life, though mixed with sorrow at the thought of losing one made doubly dear by the sweet manifestation of the spirit of christ in her. we could but look on and say, "what hath god wrought!" she herself saying, "i am not the one i was once, but am a new creature in christ jesus, for the lord has heard my prayers, and forgiven all my sins, and now i know i am going to heaven," her countenance at the same time beaming with joy. on tuesday, november 15th, she asked her eldest brother to read to her- "when languor and disease invade this trembling house of clay, 'tis sweet to look beyond our cage, and long to fly away," which she much enjoyed. on wednesday, november 16th, she said to me, "oh, joseph, i feel jesus is all around me, and i know he is soon coming to take me home. i am so happy, and waiting to go to my home of eternal rest." turning to those present, she said, "you do not mind parting with me, now you know i am going to heaven, do you?" and, seeing us in tears, she said, "i cannot think what you have to grieve about. if i were not going to heaven, then you might grieve." at times she seemed completely lost to all around, and was in sweet communion with god, and laid blessing and praising his dear name. the following are only a few of the sweet words that fell from her lips--"oh, jesus, i am so happy! thou art precious to my soul. i long to be with thee, dear jesus--not that i wish to leave my brothers and sisters, only to come to thee. i can leave everything to come to thee, dear jesus. come and fetch me. fetch me soon, if it is thy will; but if i must wait a little longer, give me patience to wait thy time." at other times, she would repeat with sweet feeling her favourite hymns and chapters, amongst which were, psalms xxiii., xxvii., and ciii.; and hymns, "how sweet the name of jesus sounds," "there is a fountain filled with blood," and "father, whate'er of earthly bliss." the last verse of the latter seemed particularly precious to her- "let the sweet hope that thou art mine my life and death attend; thy presence through my journey shine, and crown my journey's end." one morning, she wished her books, &c., brought to her, that she might give us each a parting gift, saying, "keep them in remembrance of me, when i am gone to heaven to be with jesus." on wednesday, november 16th, in the evening, mr. oldfield again saw her. she spoke very freely to him, and said, "won't it be nice to depart and be with jesus?--much better than remaining here. i think he will soon come and fetch me. he has pardoned all my sins. yes, he told me so." he read john x. at her wish, and spoke in prayer, which she much enjoyed and spoke of afterwards. when i was about to leave her, she said, "i want you all to sing, 'how sweet the name of jesus sounds,'" which we did, she joining with all the strength she had, her face being radiant with joy. another morning she awoke, and commenced singing several sweet hymns. truly she experienced the words of isaiah, "thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee." one sunday she said, "how i should love to get to chapel! if i ever went again, i should like to be baptized; but i do not think i shall have strength to go any more. no; jesus is going to take me to himself. how kind of him! don't you think so? i do." on november 26th, being her eldest sister's birthday, she wished us to get a card for her. one being selected with the words, "the lord will bless his people with peace," she said, "yes, that is the peace mr. hull spoke of at st. ives, and god has given me that peace." in presenting the card, she said to her sister, "take it from me. it will be the last present i shall give you on your birthday. before another i shall be in heaven. "yes, i shall soon be landed on yonder shores of bliss; there, with my powers expanded, shall dwell where jesus is." during the night she remarked, "how good jesus is in taking me away so gently! i thought, after all i have done and said, i should suffer much more. my sufferings are nothing to what christ suffered on the cross." the next day mr. oldfield came, and she wished him to read psalm ciii.--"bless the lord, o my soul"--and the hymn commencing, "my hope is built on nothing less." he commented on the last verse, and spoke of the robe prepared for her, and the glory that awaited her in heaven. on monday, november 28th, with deep feeling, she said- "e'er since by faith i saw the stream thy flowing wounds supply, redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till i die." one day, her doctor said he thought her a little better. when she was told, she burst into tears, and said, "oh, i do not want to get better! dear jesus, do come and take me! "weary of earth, myself, and sin, dear jesus, set me free! and to thy glory take me in, for there i long to be." another time she said, "i think i shall soon reach my journey's end now. won't it be nice when my last day comes? i did not think i should be taken first, but i do now. i wonder who will be the next? jesus knows. i should like to have on my tombstone, 'to depart and be with christ is far better,' and i hope mr. oldfield will bury me; but it little matters about my body. i shall be singing in heaven when they are putting my poor body in the grave." the last time mr. oldfield visited her she could say but very little to him, her cough being so incessant. he read psalms cxv. and cxvi., and remarked, "the heathen have no god to cry to in their affliction, but you have. what a mercy! "when your poor, lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave, then, in a nobler, sweeter song, you'll sing his power to save. "you have had a foretaste of heaven here, haven't you?" she answered, "yes, i have." at times her sufferings seemed more than she knew how to bear, and caused her to become impatient; but afterwards she would express much sorrow for it, and beg earnestly of the lord to forgive her, and enable her to bear all he should see fit to lay upon her, adding, "my sufferings are nothing to what christ suffered." on sunday, december 18th, she said but little during the day, but in the evening she wished the hundredth psalm to be read, and the hymn, "oh, bless the lord, my soul." between eleven and twelve o'clock at night she said to her sisters, "i think i shall go to-night. yes, i feel sure i shall." they asked her if she still felt happy, and if jesus was precious. she answered, "yes! yes! "my hope is built on nothing less than jesus' blood and righteousness." turning to them, she said, "good-bye, good-bye. say 'good-bye' to all for me. i am going home! home! home! i am going home!" she then fell asleep, to awake in a happier world, "where the inhabitant shall no more say, i am sick; and where they that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity." she was interred at godmanchester on december 26th, 1887, many of the friends and scholars of the sunday school being present. truly, "the memory of the just is blessed." j. s. bible subjects for each sunday in april. april 1. commit to memory psa. xciv. 1. april 8. commit to memory psa. xciv. 2. april 15. commit to memory psa. xciv. 21. april 22. commit to memory psa. xciv. 22. april 29. commit to memory psa. xciv. 23. a chinaman applied for membership in a san francisco baptist church. in answer to the question, "how he found jesus?" he is reported to have answered, "i no find jesus at all; he find me." there is a great deal of theology as well as evidence of religion in his answer. a famous dog. in 1779, a young dog, who apparently had no master, came, no one knew how, to caen, france, and met there a regiment of grenadiers starting for italy. urged on, apparently by destiny, he followed them. he was, to all appearance, a common street cur, dirty and ugly, but he had such a bright expression and seemed so intelligent that they did not hesitate to take him. his new companions forced him to act as sentinel, to obey orders, to keep step, to become accustomed to the sound of fire-arms, to obey roll call, and all other duties the soldiers were called upon to perform. he received and ate his rations with them, and lived in every respect as his regiment was commanded to do. in going to italy, moustache crossed st. bernard, at the cost of unknown hardships, and encamped with the regiment above alexandria. it was here that he was to accomplish his first great feat of arms. a detachment of austrians, hidden in the valley of balbo, advanced in the night to surprise the grenadiers, and was heard by this vigilant dog as he was making his rounds. the soldiers were awakened by his barking. in a moment every one was on foot, and the enemy dislodged. to reward moustache, the colonel had his name inscribed on the regimental roll, and ordered that he should have every day the ration of a soldier. he ordered that there should be put on his neck a collar bearing the name of the regiment, and the barber was ordered to wash and comb him every week. some time afterwards there was a slight engagement, and moustache conducted himself very bravely. he here received his first wound--a bayonet thrust in the shoulder. it must be said here that moustache was never wounded except in front. about this time he quarrelled with the grenadiers and deserted, because they had left him tied in the garrison. taking refuge with a company of chasseurs, he saw a disguised austrian spy enter the french camp. moustache, forgetting the insult he had received, welcomed the stranger by springing at his throat with much fierceness. this action astonished all at first, but they had time for reflection, and then remembered the sagacity of the faithful dog. the stranger was arrested, searched, and found to be a spy. moustache continued the series of his exploits. at the battle of austerlitz, seeing the colour-bearer surrounded by enemies, he flew to his rescue, defended him as well as he could, and when the soldier fell, pierced with bullets, enveloped in his colours, moustache, seizing with his teeth that part of the glorious flag which he could get, fairly flew past the enemy, and brought back to his company the blood-stained remnants. it must be said here that a charge of musketry had taken off one of his legs. this saving of the flag brought him merited honour. they took off the collar he wore, and marshal lannes ordered that they should put on him a red ribbon, with a copper medal, bearing this inscription on one side--"he lost a leg at the battle of austerlitz, and saved the colours of his regiment." on the other side it read--"moustache should be loved and honoured as a brave french dog." as it was easy to recognise him by his ribbon and medal, they decided that, in whatever regiment he should present himself, he should receive the portion of a soldier. he took part yet in several battles, and among others that of essling (1809). he made with the dragoons two campaigns, and the brave dog fought every time he had the opportunity. he always walked in front on the alert, barking when he heard any noise, and could not find out the cause. in the sierra morena mountains, he brought back to camp the horse of a dragoon who had been killed. it is said that at several times he showed this same act of intelligence. he made his last campaign with the artillery, and was killed at the battle of badajoz, on march 11th, 1811, at the age of twelve years. they buried him on the spot where he fell, with his medal and his ribbon. on the stone which served as his monument they wrote--"here lies moustache." these simple words are more eloquent than the most pompous epitaph. flesh-eating plants. it is said that there are about a hundred kinds of flesh-eating plants all the world over, and of these, three--the sundew, butterwort, and bladderwort--grow in this country. the member of this species best known to british botanists is the sundew. the leaves of this plant resemble in shape a flat spoon, and the surface of their blades is covered with stout, erect, hair-like objects, each with a roundish head, which is surrounded with a sticky fluid. flies are the usual prey of the sundew. when one of these insects touches the blade of a leaf of the plant, the sticky points detain it, and the edges of the blade begin bending towards the centre, and continue to so fold themselves until the fly is entirely enveloped by them. after remaining in this position for many hours, or even days, the leaf gradually resumes its original shape, and an examination will show that nothing remains of the fly but the hard parts--as the wings, outer skin, &c. the rest of the insect has been dissolved in the sticky secretions, and absorbed by the plant. several of these plants have been placed near one another, and some have been covered by fine gauze, so that no flies could be caught by their leaves. the superiority of the plants that have been left in their natural state has clearly proved that a supply of animal food is not only advantageous, but almost necessary to them. (see psalm civ. 24.) "draw me." "_no man can come to me except the father, which hath sent me, draw him._"--john vi. 44. "_him that cometh to me i will in no wise cast out._"--john vi. 37. "_i am the door._"--john x. 9. "_draw me, we will run after thee._"--solomon's song i. 4. oh, draw me, holy father, for in thy word i read that they who go to jesus with all their guilt and need, are certainly attracted by thy almighty power, to find a happy entrance through heaven's living door. the world, which once did furnish the trifles i desired, now gives no satisfaction; there's something else required: the devil would allure me with charms by him designed to cry, "peace! peace!" but cannot relieve my troubled mind. i see no place of refuge to which i may retreat; no home, or kindly shelter, to rest my weary feet. where shall i go? where _can_ i? dear saviour, hear my plea- "draw me, and i'll run gladly; yes, draw me unto thee." a. b. a brave rescue. it is only within the last few weeks that particulars have been published in the swiss papers of a brave rescue effected on mount st. bernard on the night of the last sunday in november. while a violent snow-storm was in progress, grand, the manager of the hospice, noticed that his own special dog that was alone with him in his room became very restless, and made signs to him to go out. he took the lantern and fog-horn, and went out on the mountain, the dog leading him. in a very short time he heard a call and groaning, and, helped by the dog, dug out of the snow an italian, whom he carried on his back into the hospice. the rescued man stated that his father, two brothers, and another italian, all journeying home with him over the pass, lay buried in the snow. he had pushed on to obtain help, but had been overpowered by the storm. grand made ready and went out again. this second search was more tedious, and led him further away, but at last the barking of the dog announced a discovery. it was the italian stranger who was now saved and carried up to the hospice. a third time grand and his dog sallied out into the tempest, and after a quarter of an hour's search found the others, near where the second man had been discovered. they were quite buried under the snow, and almost insensible. he took the most feeble on his shoulders, and with difficulty conducted the others to the hospice. it was now past midnight, and his toilsome task had occupied grand over four hours, in a blinding snow-storm. a recent telegram from geneva states that two avalanches have fallen on the above famous hospice of st. bernard. the church has been almost entirely buried in snow. no loss of life is reported. the mummy of sesostris. a new egyptian labyrinth was some time ago discovered at a place named deyr-el-baharee by m. maspero, an orientalist of french nationality, who found in one of the underground galleries, hollowed through a mountain of granite, three sarcophagi of the mosaic period. they resembled somewhat our modern coffins, except that they were much larger and rather clumsier in shape. but they were beautifully adorned with images of egyptian gods and sacred animals, painted in colours that were still of admirable freshness, on a dark-brown ground. they bore numerous inscriptions in hieroglyphics and the demotic character, wherefrom the clue was obtained as to their identity. the sarcophagi, with their contents, were transported down the nile to boulag, at the gates of cairo, and were opened in the presence of the khedive and several pashas. the coil of thick cloth in which the first mummy lay was ripped open; then a narrow linen band of about eight inches in breadth, that went round and round the body several hundred times from head to foot, was unwound; after that, a second winding sheet of the finest linen was with great care cut open with scissors. at last a head appeared, totally unlike that of any modern human being. the description of it is given by m. maspero in his report:-"the head is long and small in proportion to the body. the crown is utterly bald; the hair is scanty about the temples, but grows in thick, lank tufts on the nape. it was white before death, but has been stained light yellow by the sweet essences with which the body was embalmed. the ears were almost round, standing out from the head, and are pierced like those of a woman. the mouth is small, and bordered with thick, fleshy lips, behind which is a row of white teeth that were kept clean with evident care. whiskers and beard are thin. they were shaved during lifetime, but grew in the last illness, or may-be after death. the low forehead is narrow, and the brow prominent, and covered with white hairs. the eyes are small, and set close to one another; the nose long, thin, aquiline, and slightly flattened at the tip by the pressure of the bandages. the temple is hollow, the cheek-bones are prominent, the jaw is strong, and the chin very underhung. the face of the mummy is certainly not an intelligent one, and almost appears bestial; but it has an unmistakable look of pride, doggedness, and majesty." [illustration: rescue by dogs of st. bernard.] as regards the body, it is that of an aged man, who was singularly vigorous and robust, and must have lived to nearly a hundred years of age. from the inscriptions on the coffin, it appeared that the body it held had reigned over egypt for sixty-seven years, during which time the country had attained the pinnacle of national greatness. the hebrews groaned under his oppression, and hundreds of thousands, while employed to build the city of ramesis, had died under the taskmasters' lash. this mummy was the greatest among the pharaohs--sesostris. he was found in a wonderful state of preservation, after having remained in that coffin for thirty-five centuries. the second mummy proved to be that of rameses iii. the third mummy became putrid from exposure to air, and was accordingly buried by m. maspero. it turned out to be that of a queen named nofritari, of the eighteenth dynasty. when thy hand hath done a good act, ask thy heart whether it is well done.--_fuller._ "this is the way; walk ye in it." (psalm cxix. 9.) wherewith shall the inquiring youth attempt to cleanse his way? this question asked the lips of truth, and many since that day. the answer's ready for the meek, and easy to be found; no far-fetched knowledge need you seek on false, on foreign ground. take heed unto your steps, dear friend, the bible does declare; may you unto god's word attend with energy and prayer. "take heed unto thyself," wrote paul, "and to the doctrines, too"; young timothy obeyed the call, and god's salvation knew. friend, you may study well the law, and try to do your best; remember, you will have to know this lesson with the rest. but if you find yourself at last a guiltier sinner still, the gospel is revealed for such- "come, whosoever will." yes, there the secret is made known- the remedy you need- the precious blood of christ alone can cleanse thought, word, and deed. m. e. s. _corby._ "thou, god, seest me!" "george," said a big boy, winking hard at his curly-headed little comrade, "you may pick me some of those apples. your father has fallen asleep over his book in the study." george raised his fearless, honest eyes to the older lad's face, and replied, "my father is father's father too, and he neither slumbers nor sleeps" (psa. cxxi. 4). george's father was the all-seeing god. a visit to the idrian mines. after passing through several parts of the alps, and having visited germany, i thought i could not return home without visiting those dreadful subterraneous caverns, where thousands are condemned to reside, shut out from all hopes of ever seeing the cheerful light of the sun, and obliged to toil out a miserable life under the whips of imperious task-masters. imagine to yourself a hole in the side of a mountain, about five yards over. down this you are lowered in a kind of bucket to a depth of more than one hundred fathoms, the prospect growing still more gloomy, yet still widening as you descend. at length, after swinging in terrible suspense for some time in this precarious situation, you reach the bottom, and tread on the ground, which, by its hollow sound under your feet, and the reverberations of the echo, seems thundering at every step you take. in this gloomy and frightful solitude you are enlightened by the feeble gleam of lamps, here and there dispersed, so as that the wretched inhabitants of these mansions can go from one place to another without a guide; though i could scarcely discern, for some time, anything--not even the person who came to show me these scenes of horror. from this description, i suppose you have but a disagreeable idea of the place; yet let me assure you that it is a palace, if the habitation be compared with the inhabitants. such wretches my eyes never yet beheld. the blackness of their visages only serves to cover a horrid paleness, caused by the noxious qualities of the mineral they are employed in procuring. as they, in general, consist of malefactors, condemned for life to this task, they are fed at the public expense; but seldom consume much provision, as they lose their appetites in a short time, and commonly, in about two years, expire, through a total contraction of all the joints. in this horrid mansion i walked after my guide for some time, pondering on the strange tyranny and avarice of mankind, when i was accosted by a voice behind me, calling me by name, and inquiring after my health with the most cordial affection. i turned, and saw a creature all black and hideous, who approached me, and, with a piteous accent, said, "ah! everard, do you not know me?" what was my surprise when, through the veil of this wretchedness, i discovered the features of a dear old friend. i flew to him with affection, and, after a tear of condolence, asked him how he came there. to this he replied that, having fought a duel with an officer of the austrian infantry, against the emperor's command, and having left him for dead, he was obliged to flee into the forests of istria, where he was first taken, and afterwards sheltered by some banditti, who had long infested that quarter. with these he lived nine months, till, by a close investiture of the place in which they were concealed, and after a very obstinate resistance, in which the greater part of them were killed, he was taken, and carried to vienna, in order to be broken alive upon the wheel. however, upon arriving at the capital, he was quickly known, and several of the associates of his accusation and danger witnessing his innocence, his punishment of the rack was changed into that of perpetual banishment and labour in the mines of idria. as my old friend was giving me this account, a young woman came up to him who at once i perceived to be born for a better fortune. the dreadful situation of this place was not able to destroy her beauty; and, even in this scene of wretchedness, she seemed to have charms sufficient to grace the most brilliant assembly. this lady was, in fact, daughter to one of the first families in germany; and having tried every means to procure her husband's pardon without effect, was at last resolved to share his miseries, as she could not relieve them. she accordingly descended with him into these mansions, whence few of the living return, despising the splendour of opulence, and contented with the consciousness of her own constancy. i was afterwards spectator of the most affecting scene i ever beheld. in the course of some days after my visiting the gloomy mansion i have represented to you, a person came post from vienna to the idrian bottom, who was followed by a second, and he by a third. the first inquiry was after my unfortunate friend, and i, happening to overhear the demand, gave them the first intelligence. two of these were the brother and cousin of the lady; the third was an intimate acquaintance and fellow-soldier of my friend. they came with his pardon, which had been procured by the general with whom the duel had been fought, and who was perfectly cured of his wounds. i led him, with all the expedition of joy, down to this dreary abode, presented to him his friends, and informed him of the happy change of his circumstances. it would be impossible to describe the joy that brightened upon his grief-worn countenance, nor were the young lady's emotions less vivid at seeing her friends, and hearing of her husband's liberty. some hours were employed in mending the appearance of this faithful couple; nor could i, without a tear, behold my friend taking leave of the former wretched companions of his toil. to one he left his mattock, to another his working clothes, and to a third such utensils as were necessary for him in that situation. we soon emerged from the mine, where he once again revisited the light of the sun, that he had totally despaired of ever seeing again. a post-chaise and four were ready the next morning to take them to vienna, where, i am since informed by a letter from himself, they are returned. the emperor has again taken him into favour, his fortune and rank are restored, and he and his fair partner have now the pleasing satisfaction of feeling happiness with double relish, as they once knew what it was to be miserable.--_selected._ ["what a happy deliverance!" say you. ah! but it is only a faint emblem of that deliverance which jesus wrought. these people were delivered from sufferings which would only have been for a short time, but jesus died to deliver his people from the wrath to come--the fire that shall not be quenched. reader, have you been brought to him? can you say, "he loved me, and gave himself for me"? or are you without hope of eternal life? oh, that you may seek to win christ, and be found in him!--ed.] answer to bible enigma. (_page 66._) "_thy will be done._"--matthew xxvi. 42. t imæus mark x. 46. h arp genesis iv. 21. y ear leviticus xxv. 4. w hale job vii. 12. i nfidel 2 corinthians vi. 15. l atin luke xxiii. 38. l aban genesis xxix. 10. b ehemoth job xl. 15. e phraim genesis xli. 52. d og exodus xi. 7. o nyx genesis ii. 12. n oon solomon's song i. 7. e pistle 2 corinthians iii. 1. harry frederick forfeitt (aged 10 years). _thong, near gravesend._ an encouraging sunday school gathering. the twelfth annual meeting of the sunday school, devonshire road chapel, greenwich, was held on february 8th. the singing of a hymn was followed by the reading of psalm xix. by mr. boorne, the pastor, and prayer by mr. joseph whittome. mr. boorne, in his remarks, referred to pharaoh's desire to keep the children in egypt, even if the god of israel compelled him to let their parents go. but they also had to come out from bondage. he said a phrase was sometimes used to hinder the planting of sunday schools, namely, "that they are often only a nursery for the church." his opinion was, that a sunday school might be put to a much worse use. he thought it a good and desirable thing when it was so; and scholars taught of god, as well as by their teachers, passed from the sunday school into the church. the secretary and acting-superintendent, mr. samuel boorne, then read the report. he noted four encouraging facts. the increase of numbers--twenty new scholars, making 140 in all. that the infant class, the _feeder_ of the school, was increasing. the manifest interest taken in their school by many of the scholars, for, though it was twelve years old, some of the original scholars were still connected with the bible classes. her majesty's jubilee year was commemorated by the gift to each child of an ornamental card, on which was printed the coronation oath, taken by her majesty on her accession, to preserve the protestant liberties of her country. it was put into a gilt frame, and was much appreciated by the scholars. the collecting cards for the aged pilgrims' friend society, issued this year _by request_, and always a voluntary effort on the part of the children, resulted in £6 10s. mr. marshall, of clifton, then interested many by his pleasant and solemn remarks. the _possibilities_ for the future represented by such a gathering of boys and girls formed a fitting theme. he hoped there were none present who would be the means of breaking their parents' hearts. a page from the life of a youth who really did do it, and who traced the beginning of his evil doings to _drink_, was pointed and solemn, mr. marshall saying it was his conviction that children should never be allowed to acquire a taste for so dangerous a luxury. he said he was a total abstainer himself, and did not think--and probably the audience agreed with him--he looked any the worse for it. his concluding words will be remembered. after fifty years' experience of the love and ways of god, he testified to young and old that there was no happiness in anything but the knowledge of god in christ. it surpasses and eclipses all. "he will do everything for those who are his." he then addressed a few words to the teachers, advising them to stick to the word of god. the holy spirit was able to teach even children. he once baptized a girl of fourteen, of whom he could say he _knew_ she was a vessel of mercy; and why should he keep her out of the privileges of the lord's people? he would not hesitate to baptize a child of ten if he or she gave sufficient evidence that they knew something of their own sinfulness, and something of the lord jesus. "can any man forbid water, that these should not be baptized, which have received the holy ghost as well as we?" mr. wilmshurst then began his address by reminding his young friends of the many happy sundays they had spent together. what pleasant gatherings they were! he had not forgotten them, if they had. but now he wished to speak of a most _remarkable_ gathering of people. he referred to the four hundred men who gathered to david in the cave adullam (1 sam. xxii. 1, 2). the remarkable points were these:-first, they were all remarkably _poor_--"in debt"--and bankrupts in those days were liable to be taken for bondmen, or slaves (see 2 kings iv. 1). we are all in debt to god, and have "nothing to pay." we add to it hourly, and unless the heavy debt is paid by us (which is _impossible_), or by another, we shall be shut up for ever in prison with satan and his angels. secondly, these men were remarkably _discontented_--discontented with saul, the reigning king, his service, and his rewards; and they came to david, an uncrowned king, with no apparent advantage to offer them. true type of those who, like moses in a similar case, have "_chosen_ rather to suffer affliction with the people of god, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." thirdly, they were in remarkable _distress_. so are all those who come to king jesus--a distress which others cannot understand, and often cannot account for. "what must i do to be saved?" is a strange trouble to many. fourthly, they had remarkable _desires_. they wished to find david, to dwell with him, and have him for their leader and captain. and david himself was a fugitive, hunted by saul--poor, powerless, and hidden away in a cave in a mountain, where, probably, it was very difficult to find him. so there are some (only a few compared with the number of the people of the land, like david's four hundred) whose hearts are set on finding jesus. they wish to be near him always. he (like david) is difficult to find. he must be usually searched for "as for hid treasures" (prov. ii. 4), but when found, he becomes their captain. fifthly, these men had a remarkable _reception_. they had no good characters--nothing to recommend them--but they were received. so jesus also "receiveth sinners and eateth with them." as the pharisees despised jesus for keeping such company, so saul and his servants despised david. jesus says, "him that _cometh to me_ i will in no wise cast out." the reception of the four hundred was also remarkable because they were _uninvited_. but here the type fails. jesus _has_ invited those who "come" to him (see matt. xi. 28). sixthly, the men made remarkable _soldiers_. their doings are recorded in 2 samuel xxiii., and the doings and victories of the good soldiers of jesus christ are to be found in hebrews xi. david's soldiers did not live _idle_ lives in the cave, nor do christ's soldiers have peace always. they have to "fight the good fight of faith" with "the sword of the spirit, which is the word of god," and the bow of _prayer_. they fight, however, with their captain's eye upon them (see psa. xxxiv. 15). lastly, they were remarkably _rewarded_. when david came to the throne, they were put in positions of honour. the visible reward of christ's followers is yet to come (dan. vii. 22, 27; matt. xix. 28; luke xxii. 29, 30). he has promised also to give them "manifold more in _this present time_," as well as "life everlasting" (luke xviii. 28-30). the prizes were then distributed by the pastor, and after a concluding word of prayer, this encouraging meeting was brought to a close. e. m. the wise and foolish builders. (matthew vii. 24-29.) this is a wilderness of sand, with driving winds on every hand; how many build their houses here, nor seem the coming storm to fear! there is a sure foundation-stone; may i be builded thereupon! then shall i stand the last dread shock, safe on the everlasting rock. bible enigma. the name of a river. a place where all jews were commanded to depart from. a king to whom the children of israel sent a present. what did abimelech take with him when he went up mount zalmon? what did the lord say the strong shall be as? a mighty man of valour. one of david's children. name one of jacob's sons. a brother of tubal. one of the cities which the children of reuben built. a mountain. what did jesus say a disciple should be called? that which was to be burned always. a place where david dwelt. one of the cities which the children of gad built. of what tribe was hiram? what did the lord say should not cease while the earth remaineth? the name of a thing declared to be a mocker (spell it backwards). one who slew, in the valley of salt, eighteen thousand. that which remains to the people of god. a place where the children of israel provoked the lord to wrath. a wicked king. the place where the father of gideon dwelt. one whom the lord blessed. a bird that found no rest save in one place. the initials and finals will form a prayer. alice cole. _basingstoke._ the law of love requires us to sacrifice our own comfort to promote the happiness of others.--_albert barnes._ our bible class. mental eyes: darkened and illuminated. (matthew vi. 22, 23.) light sometimes means that which _gives_, sometimes that which _receives_ or _reflects_, light; as the sun is the light of the world, and the windows through which he shines are the lights of the room and the house. our eyes are the lights, or windows, of our body. through them we look out upon the world around us; and light, knowledge, and pleasure come in to us from what we see, as well as what we hear. jesus here refers to the eyes of the mind--the understanding. how often, when a difficult matter has been explained, we say, "oh, yes; i see it all now!" and yet the eyes behold no new object. we mean that we now _understand_ what puzzled us so much before. thus, in these two verses we are told about _minds_ that are darkened, and also about _understandings_ that are enlightened with the light of life. "if the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!" if the windows are bricked up, no ray of light can force an entrance, even at noonday, into the darkened rooms; or, if the casements are thickly curtained, or closely shuttered, how dark the house must be! so sin of some kind--pride, prejudice, or superstition--darkens the sinner's understanding, shuts out the light of heavenly truth, and lulls him to sleep in the arms of the wicked one--the sleep of death. people often tell us that we can do something to enlighten our own understanding. we can unfasten the shutters, or draw back the curtains, and let in the light. alas! unless the grace of god has reached us in its almighty power, we do not _want_ the light. our deeds are evil, and the light that makes them manifest is hateful (see john iii. 18, 19). the thief, the murderer, the coiner of bad money, and all who are knowingly guilty of wrong-doing, love darkness, secresy, and concealment "rather than light"; and this is our "condemnation," as fallen creatures--we love the darkness, and we shun god's holy light. "having the understanding darkened, being alienated [or estranged] from the life of god through the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardness of their heart" (eph. iv. 18). such was _our_ state by nature. what are our feelings now? saul of tarsus, as a pharisee, was learned, intelligent, and moral; but how dark, how blind, he was in those days! jesus, god's beloved son, was the object of his hatred. the altogether lovely one had no beauty at all for him, and the children of god he viewed as enemies whom he felt bound to conquer and destroy. how great his darkness was--the darkness of prejudice and pride! chiniquy, the romish priest, of whom some of us have heard so much, was blinded by _superstition_ for many a year, and even the light of the bible, as he read and studied it, could not remove that darkness till god himself said, "let there be light," and made the night of superstitious error flee away. then minds are blinded as was balaam's of old, and the pharisees, to whom christ said, "if ye were blind"--that is, if they had not heard his words, and seen his works (see john xv. 22, 24)--"ye had not had sin"--you would have been _comparatively_ free from blame--"but now ye say, we see; therefore your sin remaineth." they hated the light they had, and closed their eyes against it. as the proverb says, "none are so blind as those who will not see." but "god, who commanded light to shine out of darkness [at the world's creation], hath shined in our hearts," wrote the apostle paul (2 cor. iv. 6), "to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of god in the face of jesus christ." the once blinded pharisee could see now, and how different were all his feelings! his own righteousness was cast away. jesus was precious to his heart, and christians were his "own company," his beloved friends. no darkness is too dense, no barrier too strong, for almighty grace to remove. has the sun of righteousness arisen in our hearts? how may we know? jesus tells us (john iii. 21)--"he that doeth truth cometh to the light." god is light, and his word is a light that makes all things manifest. it shows sin, how black it is. it reveals the hollowness of the world, the glory of christ. it points out our dangers, our disease, our wants, and our foes; while it sets forth the remedy of all our ills, the great refuge and deliverer who can save unto the uttermost all who confide in him. do we try ourselves by the scriptures? abraham compared himself to "dust and ashes"--worthless. job said, "i have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee, wherefore i abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes" (job xlii. 5, 6). david, king of israel, said, "i am poor, and needy." are we anything like these saints of god? god says, he "will give strength to those who have no might," will "fill the hungry with good things," and for his own name's sake will bless those who feel themselves unworthy of his favour. do these promises suit us? are we glad that god's mercy is so free? and do we, like the psalmist, "esteem _all_ his precepts concerning all things to be right, and hate every false way"? (psa. cxix. 128.) if so, we are children of the light, and, while we examine ourselves, we shall pray god to search and try us, and lead us in his everlasting way. jesus said, "he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness" (john viii. 12), yet they who fear the lord, and obey his beloved servant, may, for a time, have no bright shinings on their pathway (isa. l. 10), just as sometimes a change of wind, or some other cause, may make a sudden darkness overspread the sky. but day-darkness generally passes off again before long. so "light is sown for the righteous," and the glad harvest shall certainly be reaped, for "the path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day" (prov. iv. 18). the morning twilight in nature may be dim and clouded, but when once the sun has risen, the light grows clearer and brighter till noon is reached; but then it begins to decline, and evening gradually comes on. but the spiritual day _ends_ in noontide glory, the _everlasting ending_ of all sorrow, sin, and fear; and to his people the saviour says, "thy sun shall no more go down, for the lord shall be thy everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended" (isa. lx. 20). may he "open our eyes, that we may behold wondrous things out of his law." may the "sun of righteousness arise upon us, with healing in his wings," that "in his light we may see light," and follow him who has "redeemed us from all evil" to the realms of endless day. our next subject will be, _god's independence of all, and his declared need of some of his creatures_. compare psalm l. 12, with matthew xxi. 3, and other passages. yours affectionately, h. s. l. the pharisee and the publican. the word of god records a potent test by which a true possessor may be known- the _pharisee_ will smite his fellow's breast; the grace-taught _publican_ will smite his own. prize essay. who are they that will stand perfect in the day of judgment? those who will stand perfect in the day of judgment are those who, by the grace of god, have been enabled to trust in, and wait on, the lord for salvation from sin and its consequences; for, by the holy spirit working in them, they see their sin, and feel the anger of god. "the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?" (jer. xvii. 9); and, when we see and feel a little of our wickedness, we despair, and satan begins to torment us, and say, "you are too wicked to go to heaven." but jesus says, "him that cometh to me i will in no wise cast out" (john vi. 37); "come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest" (matt. xi. 28). jesus says "heavy laden," showing that, no matter how wicked, how laden, his word to all those who are weary of sin, and "heavy laden" with sorrow for sin, is, "come, and i will give you rest"--rest from satan and his temptations, rest from the world and all its busy cares. his rest is so different from all other, for he says, in john xiv. 27, "peace i leave with you; my peace i give unto you: not as the world giveth, give i unto you. let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." those who will stand perfect are those who have been chosen by god as vessels of mercy, for peter says, "elect according to the foreknowledge of god the father, through sanctification of the spirit, unto obedience and sprinkling of the blood of jesus christ." then, when sprinkled by the blood of jesus christ, they are perfectly free from sin; as the hymn says- "there is a fountain filled with blood, drawn from immanuel's veins; and sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains." and this is how god's people stand before him- "dear, dying lamb, thy precious blood shall never lose its power till all the ransomed church of god be saved to sin no more." and when the final judgment is pronounced, those whose names are not recorded in the book of life will hear those awful words, "depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels" (matt. xxv. 41). but if our names are written in god's book of life, how sweet to hear, "come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (matt. xxv. 34). oh, that we may be found at god's right hand, perfect in christ's righteousness, singing and praising god through all eternity! "unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto god and his father: to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. amen" (rev. i. 5, 6). "but can i bear the piercing thought- 'what if my name should be left out when thou for them shalt call?' "let me among thy saints be found whene'er the archangel's trump shall sound, to see thy smiling face: then loudest of the crowd i'll sing, while heaven's resounding mansions ring with shouts of sovereign grace." grace annie osmotherly (aged 12 years). _45, cutmore street, gravesend, kent._ [we have received many tolerably good essays for this month, among which the following claim special notice--e. b. knocker; lilly rush; margaret creasey; j. e. wright; p. rackham; jane bell; florrie rush; claude rush (aged 10 years); laura creasey; e. wightman; e. b. west; d. newbury; b. m. dennis; a. m. cray; w. e. cray, &c.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "the life of john newton." the subject for june will be, "what marks do the lambs of jesus christ bear?" and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the dairyman's daughter." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of may.] kindness to animals. the following lines are printed on a board over a watering-trough in holloway, bath:-a man of kindness to his beast is kind, but brutish actions show a brutish mind. remember, he who made thee made the brute; who gave thee speech and reason, made him mute. he can't complain, but god's all-seeing eye beholds thy cruelty and hears his cry. he was designed thy servant--not thy drudge. remember his creator is thy judge. he acts but a fool's part who aims at heaven, but lives at random. interesting items. the deepest running stream.--the deepest running stream that is known is the niagara river, just under the suspension bridge, where it is seven hundred feet deep by actual measurement. sabbath-breaking.--on sunday afternoon, march 4th, at sheffield, a little boy, whose name was thomas haigh, was drowned in a dam, caused by the breaking of the ice. he was sent to the sunday school by his parents. instead of going there, however, he and another boy went to what is known as the little london dam. the ice was not safe, but they ventured on it, and ultimately both fell in. haigh was drowned, and his body has not yet been discovered; the other escaped. children, beware of disobedience and sabbath-breaking. great snowstorm in new york.--every one declares it to be the worst storm they have ever known. saturday, march 10th, was a balmy, spring day. on sunday evening some cold rain fell, changing at midnight into a freezing sleet. on monday there was a veritable dakota blizzard. the air was filled with snow flying before the wind at the rate of sixty miles an hour. it was impossible in the street to keep the eyes open, and almost impossible to walk. those who did venture out of doors were to be seen clinging to trees for support against the gale, or turning breezy corners upon their hands and knees. vehicular traffic was totally suspended. huge snow-ploughs, drawn along the tramways by a score of horses, had to be abandoned in the streets. the tram-car drivers unhitched their teams of three horses, and left the cars wherever they happened to be. unbroken drifts, as high as the hips, or even in some cases up to the shoulders, filled nine-tenths of the shop doors along broadway. the storm is believed to be without a parallel. it extended all along the hudson river and around new york. death of the emperor william of germany.--berlin has been a city of mourning, and germany a nation of grief, in consequence of the death of the emperor william, who closed his long, eventful, and successful life in his palace there, unter den linden, about half-past eight a.m., march 9th. just before he died, when dr. kogel, the court chaplain, repeated to the emperor the words of the psalmist--"yea, 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," the emperor observed, "that is beautiful." his last words are said to have been those with which he replied to a question from his daughter, the grand duchess of baden, as to whether he was tired, and would like to rest. "i have no time at present to be tired," responded his majesty. sometimes, when his thoughts were wandering, the dying monarch would think of his afflicted son and successor far away on the mediterranean shore, and murmur, "fritz, lieber fritz." the emperor was a man who acknowledged god, and god prospered his work, as in the case of the franco-prussian war, for instance, although many of his enemies sneered at that acknowledgment. a special funeral service was held on saturday, the 10th ult., in the mortuary chamber of the late emperor, at which the dowager empress, the grand duke and duchess of baden, the crown prince and princess of sweden, and other royal personages were present. the deceased monarch lay in the same position as that in which he expired, having a crucifix on the breast, and holding an ivory cross in the right hand. [what popery!] the berlin telegraph office.--friday, march 9th, will long be remembered as the busiest day on record at the central telegraph office of berlin. the pressure was great on thursday, when 29,878 telegrams, aggregating 799,926 words, had to be sent off. but this record, was eclipsed by the following day, no fewer than 36,615 telegrams, containing together 1,115,551 words, being despatched to all parts of the globe, and in different languages. all the government telegraphists fit for duty had to be called in to meet the pressure, and all the available instruments were worked. it was a fortunate circumstance that the berlin bourse was closed, as this enabled the authorities to make use of the instruments there for the work. during the busiest hours of the day, no less than 346 telegraphists were at work at the same time in the great instrument room of the central telegraph office, and 230 instruments were operated. epping baptist sunday school.--on wednesday, february 1st, a lecture was delivered by mr. william hazelton, of college park, lewisham, entitled, "wit and its uses." the lecture was listened to with great interest. pieces were sung by the teachers and scholars, conducted by mr. g. nokes. the chair was taken by mr. c. cottis. there was a good attendance, and collections amounted to over two pounds. on tuesday, february 14th, the children, with their teachers and friends, had their annual tea, after which short addresses were given by the teachers, and recitations and singing by the children. the prizes, consisting of books, were then distributed by the superintendent, mr. william cottis; and singing the doxology and prayer brought a very pleasant meeting to a close. siddal, halifax.--on shrove tuesday, the annual tea in connection with the strict baptist sunday school took place, when about 160 sat down to tea. the meeting was presided over by the respected minister, mr. d. smith, who gave a short address on "stealing." a few suitable recitations by the young children followed. mr. h. e. greenwood gave a short address on "prizes," and said how necessary it was for young people to have something to aim at, and also on the value of a good name. mr. james moss, superintendent of hebden bridge sunday school, exhorted the children to obedience to their parents, and related instances where disobedience had been punished in a remarkable way. mr. thos. smith, mr. jos. smith, and mr. m. h. robinson also gave short addresses. mr. john smith presented the certificates for attendance and good conduct, and gave excellent counsel to the recipients. after the singing of the doxology, a very encouraging meeting was brought to a close. southsea.--salem street sunday school.--the annual distribution of prizes took place on sunday, february 12th, 1888. after the opening services, mr. lowe spoke to the scholars respecting regularity and punctuality, trying to impress on their minds that these things would be a good recommendation for their future life. he also gave a hint that teachers should set the example. he then spoke of love as being the mainspring to win the affections of the scholars, for if love will not, the reverse will not do so. he also spoke affectionately to the young men present. he felt surprised that they came so regularly to school. he was brought up to the sunday school, but as he grew older, he left and sought worldly amusements; but, as he remarked, being a vessel of mercy, god sought him out in his own time. he felt there was nothing in the school to attract young men, but if they were seeking the one thing needful, they would not desire such amusements as those by which many congregations seek to draw the minds of youth. mr. hitchens, the superintendent, then remarked that it was twenty years since he first became connected with the school, and that he had seen many changes during that period; but still he could say, "having obtained help of god, he had continued until the present day." then came the distribution of prizes. one received a book about the sagacity of animals, and his teacher also gave him a bible for his good attendance and punctuality, as he did not remember him being away once through the year. the service was ended by singing and prayer. e. a. hitchens. cirencester.--park street chapel sunday school.--dear mr. editor,--i am one of the readers of the little gleaner. we take a lot of them in our sunday school, and the girls and boys like them very much. i have been pleased to read about the treats which have been given at other sunday schools, and thinking other children like reading about such things too, i send you an account of our christmas treat, held on january 26th. if you think it worth putting in the little gleaner, i shall be very pleased to see it there. ours is not a very large school, there being only about fifty; but i think it is very nice to go there. mr. barnard tells us that some of the ministers who give us an address tell him that ours is a very nice school, for they go to some schools where the children are not so nicely behaved and attentive as we are; but i expect we are not any better than we should be. but i must tell you about our winter treat. we have a summer outing as well. about last october, some of the lady teachers and friends who attend our chapel, knowing that the poorer children of our school would be glad of some warm clothes for the winter, got some money together and bought flannel, serge, and stockings, and had a sewing meeting every week, and made shirts, dresses, flannel petticoats, and skirts; and by christmas time they had a big box full of all these sorts of things, which were brought and given away at our treat. the children began tea at four o'clock, after singing grace. we had a beautiful tea, and we each had an orange given us; and then, after the visitors (and we had a chapel full) had had their tea, we sang a hymn, and then our minister, mr. barnard, gave a nice, interesting address. several of us recited pieces, and after some more singing and one or two other friends had spoken to us, the best part of the evening came for us children, for mr. barnard gave us our prizes--some beautiful books. mine was a lovely one. then the big box was opened, and the garments were distributed; and after a vote of thanks to the ladies, and to mr. barnard for presiding, the meeting was closed with prayer. i enjoyed myself very much, and i think every one else did. i have not had much practice in writing letters, as i am only a little girl, ten years old, but i have sent you the best account i can of our treat. i remain, your young friend, mercy risely. p.s.--perhaps you don't know me, but i have seen you ever so many times at our chapel. [illustration: "the captain never saw any one look happier." (_see page 98._)] the jesuit and the bible. there were not many passengers on board the vessel in which i was going to belgium, which rendered our intercourse more intimate. while i was conversing with two elderly persons from holland, i saw a respectable looking young man, passing backwards and forwards, who seemed to listen to what i said. in the afternoon, as i was seated among some bales of goods, the same young man placed himself beside me, and made some remark as to the fineness of the weather. "yes," i answered, "it is a proof of the goodness of god to us; but to be sensible of his goodness is a far greater blessing. has not a christian double cause for happiness, since all he receives comes from the hand of his father?" he answered, "the captain and i were just now speaking about you. the captain said he never saw any one look happier, and he thought you must have some especial cause for it. i wish, sir, i frankly confess, to be told what your secret is; for, in truth, i am not free from anxiety." he then proceeded to relate how he had gone from place to place, in order to practise his profession as a painter, and yet all his calculations had been disappointed. he was a native of belgium, and a roman catholic. "but," he added, with a sort of contempt, "all my religion has given me no consolation. what do you think is the use of all these rites and ceremonies? they are wearisome, and that is all." "my secret," i answered, "which is not one in reality, is of a very different character. the bible, sir, by the mercy of god, has rendered me happy, not only for this world, but, above all, for eternity. perhaps you never read it?" "the bible, sir? do you not know it is denied, and even forbidden, to us catholics? i have heard, indeed, that some priests allow their parishioners to read it, but they are very few; and the truth is that, if any of us were to read the bible, he would be forced to do penance, and to give the book up to our priest. i have never read it, i own." "here is a part of it," i said, producing my new testament. "this is the gospel of our lord jesus christ." "the gospel!" said the young man, with surprise. "is it all contained in that small book? i should never have supposed it." "this small book," i said, "contains, in our language, all that god has said to us by jesus christ, and costs only one franc" (tenpence). "only one franc! is it possible? i will have one, and read it, you may be sure. i promise you, as soon as we arrive at brussels, the first thing i do will be to get that book." "but, sir, you say that your priest will not allow you to read it?" "no, sir; our church does not permit us to do so. but if you wish to know my own views, i must say i feel sure that we are prevented from reading the bible only because it is exactly the reverse of what our priests tell us. they say that the bible is obscure, and not easy to be understood, and that, if they comprehend it, it is different with the common people. but i do not believe this, especially after something that happened to one of my friends, which i will tell you. "you know, perhaps, that belgium is full of jesuits, and the people dislike them. a certain abbé, who was only a jesuit in disguise, was confessor to a friend of mine, who, like many others, had been guilty of some imprudence, and he confessed it to this same priest, who imposed rather a heavy penance on him, particularly requiring him to make a rich offering to our lady [the virgin mary]. well, on his way home, my friend met one of the colporteurs, who sell bibles and other religious books. he bought one, and began to read it, and the result was, that he discovered, as he told me, that he must seek the forgiveness of his sins from god, through the saviour, and that to make an offering to the virgin for his faults was at once to lose his pains, his money, and his soul. "three months had passed, when the priest met my friend, and asked if he had done all he was directed, and especially, if he had made the offering. my friend answered, 'i have got a book which has shown me that god alone forgives sin, and that to give money for a fault is to mock the holy spirit.' 'that is the bible,' exclaimed the jesuit. 'wretched man, from whom did you get it? unless you give it up to me this very day, woe be unto you!' my friend refused, and there is no sort of annoyance or vexation which the priest has not made him suffer. however, he was firm. but hitherto, i confess, i cared very little about the matter." "then," said i, "you remain in ignorance as to whether god loves you or not?" "i am not worse than others," he replied; "and since god is good, i do not suppose he hates me." i explained, with all simplicity and freedom, the glorious doctrine of the salvation of god in christ, and i saw that no thirsty traveller hastens to springs in the wilderness more eagerly than this young man seemed to turn and hearken to the record of divine love. at length, with much earnestness, he cried out, "sir, how wonderful is the love of god to man! we did not deserve that he should give his son to die for us. this was surpassing love. the thought of it overpowers me." "will you not, then," i said, "read the bible, which tells us this glorious news?" "be assured that i will read it," he answered. "in less than a week i will have one like that which belongs to my friend. it is twice as thick as that lady's work-box, but this one book contains all that god has said to man; and the print is so clear." "but if some jesuit should see your book, he may take it from you." "shall i tell you what i will do, if any one of them meddles with me?" he said. "i will read some of its excellent contents to him, and ask him what he thinks of them. then i am sure he will not come again, unless he takes a liking to them; and then he will not hurt me." c. a divine providence. the late mr. edward parsons, of leeds, frequently supplied the pulpit of the tabernacle, tottenham court road, london. walking out one monday morning, he was accosted by a stranger, who expressed a wish to accompany him. on arriving at a certain house he said, "this is my home, sir. will you walk in and rest yourself?" having done so, his host told him he had a design in thus treating him, and then related the following remarkable facts:-many years before, himself and wife had come from scotland to london, where, as a mechanic, he had for a time full employment; but when his work became slack, he was obliged to part with some of his furniture and take a smaller house. his circumstances growing worse, his health also failing, he was obliged to part with more of his furniture, until he found himself, wife, and family driven to reside in a wretched cellar in st. giles'. one day, being without food, or the means of obtaining any, he resolved the next morning to drown himself in the new river, and accordingly started to carry out his terrible intention. it was the sabbath morning, and as he passed through tottenham court road, on his way to the new river, a little before seven o'clock, he observed a throng of people entering the tabernacle. in a sullen mood he joined these early worshippers. mr. parsons was in the pulpit, and gave out his text, which was--"when the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, i, the lord, will hear them; i, the god of jacob, will not forsake them" (isa. xli. 17). it seemed so truly for him that the poor, starving man could not help remaining through the sermon. at its close mr. parsons inquired, "have you put the god of jacob to the test?" the poor man at once said to himself, "i have not put the god of jacob to the test"; and consequently, with a half-resolution to do so, he returned to the miserable cellar. there sat his wretched wife, and there were his starving children, crying for the food he could not supply. a short period of pensive sadness, and then he said to his wife, "i think we might read a chapter." poor woman! the remark opened up the well-spring of her heart, and she burst into tears. the thought of her early religious training at once rushed on her mind. she looked for their bible, but it had been pawned. she, however, found part of an old copy, out of which her husband read a chapter. "we have not put the god of jacob to the test. shall we pray?" said he. this more surprised the poor wife, but at once they knelt down, and did then "put the god of jacob to the test." still the whole day passed without their being supplied with food. the next morning, however, the postman, who very seldom entered that poverty-stricken street, brought the man a letter from a former fellow-workman who had heard of his ill-health and loss of work. the letter contained information concerning a large firm in london which had an extensive contract, and was requiring a number of hands, and advised that he should apply to it for employment. it also contained a one-pound note as a loan, which he immediately employed in obtaining food for his family and in delivering his best coat from the pawnbroker's. he then applied to the firm named, and obtained employment, and, being a clever workman, his services were secured for a permanency. at length he was appointed foreman, and, after a few years, was made a partner in the business, and eventually, his former master retiring, he gave up the business to him. with grateful acknowledgments to the lord, he then told mr. parsons that he had also been enabled to "put the god of jacob to the test" with reference to the wants of his soul--that he had been led by divine grace to seek and find salvation; so that he could set to his seal that god was true, and that, "when the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, the lord will hear them; the god of jacob will not forsake them." r. f. r. two ways of descending. there are two ways of coming down stairs--one is, to fall from the top to the bottom; and the other is, to come down step by step; but both will take you to the bottom. so also there are two ways of reaching hell--one is, to fall into it by the committal of one great and terrible sin (comparatively few do this). the other is only too general--to go downward by the steps of _little_ sins. beware of the treachery of _little_ sins. e. barne. cousin susan's note-book jottings on the life and work of father chiniquy. doubly freed and doubly enriched. "_godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that also which is to come._"--1 timothy iv. 8. when some notorious canadian robbers were arrested, chiniquy was chosen by several as their confessor, and he constantly attended the prison, instructing them, and trying to teach them how to die. but, after all his efforts, a terrible fear that they were not converted _would_ come over his mind, and doubts of the real efficacy of popish ceremonies to prepare a sinner to meet god troubled him so much, that he made a final attempt to rescue the doomed men after sentence of death was passed upon some of them. his tears and prayers were successful, and the governor of canada changed the death-doom to life-long exile in botany bay. they, with a number of other prisoners, were therefore transported to the penal settlement, and good father chiniquy gave each penitent he visited a new testament when he took leave of them. forty years passed away, and mr. chiniquy, the presbyterian minister, was lecturing on "romanism," in australia, when he saw an elegant carriage driven up to the house at which he was staying, and a venerable gentleman, alighting from it, knocked at the door. he went himself to open it, to save trouble, and the stranger asked, was father chiniquy there, and might he see him privately? "as i am father chiniquy," was the reply, "i can at once answer that i shall feel much pleasure in granting your request." he led the way upstairs, and, when alone, the stranger asked-"do you remember the thieves who were sentenced to death in quebec, in 1837? well, dear father chiniquy, i was one of those criminals.... my name was a----. god has blessed me in many ways, but it is to you, under him, that i owe my life, and all the privileges of my present existence.... i come to bless and thank you for what you have done for me;" and, with tears of joy and gratitude, he threw himself into his benefactor's arms. they knelt together to thank god for his mercy, and then the visitor continued his wonderful story. he said, "after you had given us your last benediction, when on board the ship that was to take us to botany bay, the first thing i did was, to open the new testament you had given me.... it was the first time i had had that book in my hands. you were the only priest in canada who would put it in the hands of the common people.... "the only good i derived from the first reading was, that i clearly saw why the priests of rome fear and hate that book. in vain i looked for mass, indulgences, purgatory, confession, the worship of mary, &c., ... and for some weeks i became more of a sceptic than anything else. "but, if my first reading did me little or no good, i cannot say the same of the second. i remembered, when handing us the book, you told us to read it with prayer to god for light to understand it. i was tired of my former wicked life. i felt the need of a change. "you often, when speaking to us, used the words of the saviour, 'come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy-laden, and i will give you rest'; but, like all the other priests, you mixed with them the invocation of mary, confidence in signs of the cross, and confession, so that your sublime appeals to the words of christ were drowned by absurd and impious superstitions. "one morning, after a sleepless night, and feeling so pressed down with the weight of my sins, i opened my gospel book, after praying for light and guidance, and my eyes fell on the words, 'the lamb of god, that takes away the sin of the world.' these words fell on my poor guilty soul with a divine power. i spent the day in crying to the lamb of god to take away my sins. before the day was over i felt and knew that my cries had been heard. the lamb of god had taken away my sins. he had changed my heart, and made quite a new man of me. "from that day the reading of the gospel was to my soul what bread is to the poor, hungry man, and what pure and refreshing waters are to the thirsty traveller. my unspeakable joy was, to read the holy book, and speak to my companions in chains of the dear saviour's love for poor sinners; and, thanks be to god, a good number have found him altogether precious, and have been sincerely converted in the dark holes of that convict ship. "when at work in sydney with the other culprits, i felt my chains to be light when i was sure the heavy chains of sin were gone; and, though working hard beneath a burning sun from morning till night, my heart was full of joy when i was sure my saviour had prepared a throne for me in his heavenly kingdom. "about a year afterwards, a minister of the gospel and another gentleman came to me and told me i was pardoned, at the same time handing me a document signed by the governor, and a hundred dollars, adding, 'go and be a faithful follower of the lord jesus, and god almighty will bless you in all your ways.' "all this seemed like a dream, but it was a reality, and i spent several days and nights weeping for joy, and blessing the god of my salvation. "some years after that, we heard of the gold mines, and i started, in company with several others; but i separated from the others, for i wanted to be alone, and pray to my god as i walked along. "after a long march, i came to a beautiful spot between three small hills, whence a brook was running to the plain below. i sat down to eat my dinner, and, while doing so, my eyes fell on a stone by the brook about the size of a goose's egg. the rays of the sun shone on it like a mirror. i picked it up, and found it was nearly all gold of the purest kind.... "with the money i gained from that place i afterwards bought a piece of land, and became one of the wealthy men of australia. i married and settled here; ... and it is to you, after god, i owe my life and all the privileges i now enjoy." they wept and praised god together in the beautiful language of the 103rd psalm. both could say, with a full heart, "bless the lord, o my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name." the next day pastor chiniquy dined at the house of his unexpected visitor, and felt warmly interested in the family and all that he saw and heard, and the two separated, not expecting to meet again on earth, but confidently hoping to meet around the throne of god, to praise the wonders of redeeming love for ever. may we also be glad, and rejoice in his salvation, and join to sing the heavenly song with heart and voice, even now-"till sweeter notes our bosoms swell, in yonder world above." wise work is cheerful as a child's work is. a brother's dream. "_god speaketh ... in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings on the bed; then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction._"--job xxxiii. 14-16. superstition attaches much importance to the night wanderings of a disturbed mind, and augurs good or ill, according to the nature of the dreamy imaginings. thousands have dreamed themselves to ruin, by following the empty speculations of a fervid imagination, and neglecting the path of prudent industry. the text above does not teach that god speaketh in _all_ dreams, but that he is pleased _sometimes_ (and the writer believes very occasionally) to communicate instruction by such means. he that made the soul can approach it by any avenue he pleases, and is shut out from none. winters and summers, as many as fourteen, have rolled over my head since the night made memorable by "a brother's dream." thirteen years have likewise passed since my arms were placed beneath this dying brother--since the glad angels conveyed his sweet spirit to the paradise of god. oh, the heavenly smile--oh, the beaming eye he cast upon me--as he gently subsided into endless rest! never shall i forget that scene. never will be erased from memory's tablet that chamber, and all that there i felt, and saw, and heard. "friend after friend departs; who has not lost a friend?" come, then, all sympathizing hearts; come, ye who know what sorrow is; come, all who "feel an aching void, the world can never fill," and listen to "a brother's dream." brought up to attend public worship, and under religious instruction, the period when spiritual life first animated his soul is not known to any survivors; nor, also, what were the peculiar exercises of his mind during the first year or two of his christian life. up to the time of his dream, he was associated with many of those whose religion consists chiefly in name and show, carnal excitement, and flesh-pleasing formality; and, being of a very cheerful disposition, and generally beloved by all who knew him, it needed no small effort--nothing short of divine power--to sever the confederacy. as will always be the case where the life of god is, his soul began to languish and starve under the "yea and nay," "do and live," orations to which he from time to time listened. he could not feed on husks. distressed, hungry, and thirsty, his soul at last fainted. then he cried unto god in his trouble. full of vexation and perplexity, not knowing where to go or what to do, he dreamed. he saw, as he thought, an old woman with a cross-handled basket crying her saleables. "who wants to buy any religion? who wants to buy any religion?" she repeated again and again. gladly, _eagerly_ he vociferated, "i do! i do!" he bought a large supply. it consisted of a great number of props, which supported him all around, and on each prop was written something which he was to do--some deed or good work he was to perform. almost as soon as he was in possession of his purchased religion, he saw, at a great distance, a fire raging, which soon increased, so that it seemed to compass the whole sensible horizon. but what was more fearful, it burned still nearer and nearer to the spot where he stood, consuming everything as it approached. alarmed, amazed, terrified, his horror was increased as he beheld his props already on fire. everything had been destroyed as the burning ocean approached, and could he escape? alone and helpless, how could deliverance be effected? power and hope were alike gone, and into the infinite fire he was just sinking, when, lo! the mighty jesus, before unseen, stretched out his gracious arm, and with words of promise, instantaneously performed, said, "i'll hold you up!" forthwith the fire was quenched, and he sang delivering grace. these solemn scenes, so visibly portrayed in his imagination while asleep, became a subject of serious consideration when awake. who could explain the matter to him? not long he lacked a teacher. the gracious interpreter sent a messenger to blow the gospel trumpet in the neighbourhood. he went; he heard. oh, what a sermon! never had such statements fallen upon his ears; never had such light shone into his mind. and what a text!--"the hail shall sweep away your refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding-place." one after another, the preacher described the vain hopes on which he had rested, and showed their frailty and destruction, in the way he had felt. and then his refuge, his hiding-place, his _props_, away, away they go, just as he saw, exactly as he felt. in short, the preacher's sermon was a map of the path--a verbal unfolding of the secrets of his heart. what was the consequence? the meshes of the devil's fishing-net were broken; free-will, creature-dependency, were gone; and hope--gospel hope--"good hope through grace"--filled his anxious bosom. he had been down in the horrible pit; he had been sinking in the miry clay. now he is brought to the verge of deliverance. now he sees, he hopes in, the boundless prospects of covenant grace. not many miles distant in another direction, lived and preached a servant of the lord, lately taken to his everlasting home. he bent his steps to hear the words of truth and grace from his lips. "wonderful! astonishing! was it an angel i heard before--one who had assumed a bodily shape, to bear those joyful tidings to my soul, and now appears again with other features and with another voice? no; he was a man; and this is a human voice i hear. but how astonishing! he seems to know all the other told me, and to begin where the other left off. their sermons seem like two following pages of a book, in which i read the secrets of my life, and behold in legible lines those things i never breathed to human friends. 'this is the lord's doing, and it is marvellous in my eyes.'" it _was_ the lord's doing; for not only was his whole christian pathway mapped out, but his soul sweetly delivered from legal entanglements, from slavish fear and anxious doubt, and brought into that liberty with which god makes his people free. he was made "wise unto salvation, through faith in jesus christ." moreover, by continuance in that word, he gave unequivocal demonstration that he was a disciple indeed; one who was a learner and follower of jesus; and so, knowing "the truth as it is in jesus," he rejoiced in hope of the glory of god. nor did he have long to wait, for, sinking under the merciless hand of pale consumption, in a little more than a year he was suddenly removed to that land of peace and love where "jesus sheds the brightest beams of his o'erflowing grace." reader, the dream was instructive to the dear departed; but was it given for him alone? it can no longer benefit him, for with him all is reality--no shadowy emblem, but everything substantial. may not we therefore derive instruction? let us look at some of its prominences. standing out with towering majesty and grandeur, like a cloud-capped mountain, appears _divine sovereignty_--the sovereign mercy of the lord, who "hath mercy on whom he will have mercy." you will not see this through reason's misty glass (which perverts and confuses all things beheld through it), no more than the loftiest eminence is discernible in the darkness of midnight. but in the light of god's truth it is clearly visible. there are many with whom he was associated when he "sought the living among the dead"--when he was entangled in the carnal schemes of a false religion--who remain where he could not stay, and seem contented, too. there have been but comparatively very few brought to seek what he sought, and to know what he was taught. "who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in christ jesus before the world began." we also discover _the danger of false religion_. behold that burning flame! thus burns god's wrath against sin. no human efforts can quench it or check its progress. all creature performances, like the props, will be consumed by it. the best of human works are but as stubble to the fire of wrath divine. indeed, when god tells of that dreadful day which shall burn as an oven, the self-righteous, or proud, are put before "those that do wickedly," as objects of god's displeasure, and doomed to that dreadful burning. oh, could i make my words thunder and lightning, to peal and flash this solemn truth from hill to hill and from vale to vale! all false religion begins on the outside, and attempts to alter principles by renovating practice; but all true religion commences within. the spirit produces a change in the practice by implanting new life and holy principles. "ye must be born again." religion is not a new patch on an old garment, but a new fabric entirely. "if any man be in christ jesus, he is a new creature." we see, likewise, the trouble and anxiety which are felt when one is soundly convinced of his sinful life and state. salvation is then a matter of life and death. "life, life, eternal life!" is the earnest cry. conviction of sin, when it merely penetrates the skin, is soon soothed and forgotten; but when the arrows from the bow of god's word pierce the heart, no hand can withdraw them but his who directed them, and no balm can heal those painful wounds but that administered by jehovah-jesus. it may be seen also that, till he who is "the way, the truth, and the life," was proclaimed to his eager soul, he found no solid satisfaction, no stable peace. "in vain the trembling conscience seeks some solid ground to rest upon; with long despair the spirit breaks, till we apply to christ alone." he is the only antidote to our sin, ruin, and disease; and he is freely set forth in the gospel as the gracious, willing, almighty, and everlasting saviour of the lost and undone. until we are brought sensibly to feel our sin and destitution, we are ready and willing to try everything but that which god has provided; but when we are brought before his infinite holiness, and see the "filthy garments" in which we are clad, no arm is long and powerful enough to reach our case but his, who is "able to save them to the uttermost that come unto god by him." the blessed spirit will always glorify jesus by his teaching, and will lead the soul to him as the all in all of salvation. here are exhibited, likewise, the gracious operations of his power and wisdom who says, "the ransomed of the lord shall return and come to zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads." had his soul's salvation rested on his believing, as some would tell us, he had not have been where he is. grace begins, grace carries on, grace performs, and finally completes, the grand work of eternal redemption. in this brief narrative appears, moreover, the peace and joy a knowledge of sin forgiven and peace secured produces in the soul. oh, the blissful truth, "redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace." to taste this, to know this, exceeds ten thousand worlds of sordid treasure--transcends the highest delights of this terrestrial sphere. how did his happy soul rejoice "with joy unspeakable and full of glory"! but he has long entered his rest. he has forgotten to mourn, and loudly sings the praises of the lamb. where is my reader? is he pursuing the wind, and hunting after the shadowy trifles of earth? is he attempting by creature works to make his peace with god? doomed to total disappointment and eternal condemnation are all those who die in such hostility to the way of peace and heaven's declared will! oh, delusion! worse than madness! "he that _believeth not_ shall be damned!" no salvation but by a living faith in the lamb of god and his all-perfect work. prompt kindness. the fact that we are too apt to suppress our kindest emotions for loved ones, and withhold our words of approbation, is but too frequently apparent. this is often done with the best intent, fearing that more cordial expression and warmer approval may savour of flattery, and very frequently it is the outcome of pure carelessness or indifference. in this connection it is well to consider the words of horace mann. says he:-"do not keep the alabaster boxes of your love and tenderness sealed up until your friends are dead. fill their lives with sweetness. speak approving, cheering words while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier by them. the kind things you mean to say when they are gone, say before they go. the flowers you mean to send for their coffins, send to brighten their homes before they leave them. if my friends have alabaster boxes laid away, full of fragrant perfumes of sympathy and affection, which they mean to break over my dead body, i would rather they bring them out in my weary and troubled hours, and open them, that i may be refreshed and cheered by them while i need them. i would rather have a plain coffin without flowers, a funeral without eulogy, than life without the sweetness of love and tenderness and sympathy. let us learn to anoint our friends beforehand for their burial. post-mortem kindness does not cheer the burdened spirit. flowers on the coffin cast no fragrance backward over the weary way." bible enigma. an unknown king. a place from which the canaanites were not driven. one of the dukes of edom. a shuhite. a place built by the sons of elpaal. where were they once who are now made nigh to god? the hebrew name for "pavement." a name which means "the tower." something which god used to give a sign to encourage a king. the initials and finals form two titles of christ. clara ellis (aged 14 years). a fugitive in the himalaya mountains. in the summer of 1852 colonel b----, on an excursion to the snowy range of the himalayas, had proceeded into the mountains some twenty miles beyond any known habitation of civilized man, when the natives told him that, in a village near by, a white man was living in concealment. incredible as it appeared, colonel b---followed his guides to a little native hut with mud walls and roof of grass. taking a peep in at the low entrance, sure enough, there he spied an elderly person with a white face, but in the most shabby dress of the natives, who, on catching a glance of the intruder, rushed into a dark corner of his miserable hovel, out of which the most earnest entreaties and assurances of good intentions scarcely brought him. he was the son of an english gentleman who, like thousands of the high-bred youths of england, had come to india to procure a title to a government pension, and, after remaining here ten or twenty years, return home and live in ease. like not a few who come to this land, supposing he could scarcely avoid becoming rich, he had run recklessly into debt, until he was threatened with a term of years in close confinement unless he should immediately cancel his liabilities, to do which he was totally incapable. he fled beyond the limits of the british territory to the place where colonel b---found him, where he had subsisted for some fifteen years, in the manner of the wild natives around him, not excepting their revolting vices. colonel b---told him of a debt he owed, which, if not discharged, might consign him to chains and darkness, not for a term of years, but for eternity; begged him earnestly to seek to escape that everlasting imprisonment in the dungeons of the unutterably miserable; prayed with him, and gave him a few tracts, which, like many good men, colonel b---is in the habit of taking with him wherever he goes. two years after, he again visited him, and found that the seed he had been permitted to sow was springing up. on reading the tract, "_it is the last time_," he could have no peace of mind until he found assurance of his greatest debt being cancelled by the blood of christ. his brother, who was receiving a large salary in india, was delighted to be permitted to meet his earthly liabilities, and requested him to return to england and live the remainder of his days in comfortable ease. but no; he said he had opposed and reviled the christian religion in india, and here he wished to do what he could to counteract his past evil influence. he is now at s----, daily assisting a missionary in proclaiming to the heathen the only way of eternal life. may he whose grace has raised him thus far out of the loathsome den, lead him still onward, and make him an eminent aid and ornament to the faith which he so long despised and reproached. in what various ways does god enable him to do good whose heart is set upon it! the author of that tract probably never thought of its floating over the waves fifteen thousand miles, fluttering on the breeze another thousand miles into the heart of a heathen country, amidst the bears and wolves and wild men of the himalayas, lighting upon a poor degraded immortal, "twice dead and plucked up by the roots," and proving him a son and heir of the lord god almighty, a being to reign on the throne of the universe for ever with the king of kings. "o the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of god!" a few words from the dumb. it is the glory of englishmen to stand up for the defenceless, and to scorn the cowardly oppression of the weak. surely, then, those who own and those who use ponies and donkeys will be willing to give a fair hearing to a pleader for the helpless, dumb creatures. if they could speak for themselves, would they not say--"give us some rest one day in the week, and we will do all the more for you the other six, and last the longer for it. you yourself work the better, and live the longer, for one day's rest. "don't beat our sore sides so hard and so often, and we shall be stronger and better servants to you. you know how oppression only makes _you_ set up your back, but you will do anything for a kind master. "don't ride and race us about till we are ready to drop, and our wind is almost broken, and we are reeking with heat and rough usage. "pray let us have a little more water when we stand weary and thirsty, with our poor dry tongues unable to ask for it. _you_ have felt the suffering of thirst. "and for pity's sake," the ponies would say, "loosen this torturing bearing-rein. we toss and shake our heads, or we try to keep them still, and nothing gives us a moment's ease. you, master, would suffer severely if _your_ head were held in such a position, and we could do more work, and much better, without it. "please remember that we can always hear your voice, and shall understand what you want us to do so much more quickly, if you speak to us quietly, than if you roar at us, and drag our tender, worn mouths about. we get so puzzled and frightened when you're in a rage with us, that we only flounder and plunge, and make you more and more angry. "our last entreaty is that, when we get old and past our work, you will not let our poor, wasted bodies stagger along under some load, when our lives have been spent in your service, but that you will reward us by having us immediately put out of our pain." think how much you owe to mercy yourself, and remember, "the merciful man doeth good to his beast." one link gone. take the pillows from the cradle where the little sufferer lay; draw the curtain, close the shutters, shut out every beam of day. spread the pall upon the table; place the lifeless body there; back from off the marble features lay the auburn curls with care. with its little blue-veined fingers crossed upon its painless breast, free from care, and pain, and anguish, let the infant beauty rest. smooth its little shroud about it; pick its toys from off the floor; they, with all their sparkling beauty, ne'er can charm their owner more. take the little shoes and stockings from the doting mother's sight; pattering feet no more will need them, in and out with such delight. parents faint and worn with watching through the long, dark night of grief, dry your tears, and soothe your sighing; gain a respite of relief. mother's care no more is needed to allay the rising moan; and though you perchance may leave it, it can never be alone. thus a golden link is broken in a chain of earthly bliss- thus the distance shorter making 'twixt another world and this. [illustration: kindness to animals. (_see page 108._)] a gathered one. a short account of emma beesley, of leicester, who died on lord's day morning, january 1st, 1888, aged twenty-one years. our earliest recollection of emma was as a child in our sunday school, which she was led, in a very marked way, to attend. her sister was persuaded by a companion to go with her to our school just for one afternoon, and she was so interested that she became a regular scholar. emma was at that time attending a school in connection with a general baptist cause, but hearing her sister speak in such high terms of the school at zion chapel, she was soon persuaded to go with her. like her sister, she felt so at home that she also became a scholar. they each became so very much attached to both school and chapel, that they had no desire whatever to leave it; and we have good reason to believe the word was made a blessing, and that the seed of divine grace was sown in each of their hearts by god the eternal spirit. emma was of a very quiet turn of mind, and for the last two years was the subject of great soul-trouble. all who knew her could testify to the deep sense she had of her sinnership before god. her great fear was, that she was too great a sinner for the lord to look upon; but her whole desire was, to be found right with him. to a friend she said, "oh, i should not mind waiting, if only i knew i should obtain the blessing; but i am so afraid i shall never have what i am seeking after." her love for the house of god was so great that no weather would prevent her from attending the means. being of a delicate constitution, her mother often reproved her for going so much; but she could say, with the poet- "i love to meet amongst them now, before thy gracious feet to bow, though vilest of them all." truly, she prized the company of the lord's people, and looked upon them as the excellent of the earth; and many times has said, "i want the lord to assure me that i am one of his family, redeemed by precious blood." for the most part she was very dark in her mind, but had rays of light, being often encouraged under the preached word. it was about a month before her last illness that the lord seemed to completely wean her from the world. she seemed like one that was indeed taking the kingdom of heaven by violence. the things that belonged to her soul's happiness were eagerly sought after, while the things of the world were only a plague and a burden. she said to a friend, "oh, how i long for the christmas holidays--not for the mere holiday, but that i may get away from my work, and be with the dear people of god." about a fortnight before her illness, our dear minister spoke from the words, "my sheep hear my voice, and i know them, and they follow me." it seemed to completely cut her up, as she feared she was only a hypocrite, and not a true follower, which caused her great sorrow of heart. but during the week the lord was pleased to shine upon her once more with these words--"i have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with loving-kindness have i drawn thee." but the words were so great she feared to take them, and yet she could not put them away. on the following sunday, our dear pastor took for his text, "even to him shall men come" (isa. xlv. 24). that day was indeed a sabbath to her; for, as the character was described, the lord sweetly made it plain to her that she was no longer to cut herself off, and she felt sure that she was the character described. she earnestly begged of the lord that day that mr. hazlerigg might be led to take the same text in the evening. to her great joy the same words were again given out, and the sermon was attended with the same sweetness to her. she was indeed full. a friend who walked with her from chapel said afterwards, that she seemed in a most heavenly frame of mind. she could do nothing but speak of the favoured times she had had in hearing. the next, and indeed the last, time that she was permitted to meet with us on earth, was at our prayer-meeting on the monday evening, and then she seemed again to be much favoured. she was taken ill on the wednesday evening. on the following friday, the writer, being sent for, went and found her very ill, but her mind seemed stayed upon eternal things. i said, "do you think you shall get better, emma?" to which she replied, "i do not know. if the complaint is not stayed, i must sink; but i do not mind." i asked her if she feared death. she replied, "no; i only want the lord to reveal himself to me more, and then i do not mind whether it is life or death." she said, "i have only one wish, and that is, that the affliction may be sanctified." she said that verse had been so blessed to her- "fenced with jehovah's 'shalls' and 'wills,' firm as the everlasting hills." i said, "oh, emma, how good of the lord to give you those words. he knows how full of fears you are, and how satan would cast his 'buts' and 'ifs' at you; but the lord has given you those words to quench satan's darts with." i told her i believed the lord was either preparing her for his church below, or his church above. she smiled, and said, "i hope it is so." a friend, to whom she was much attached, called to see her, and said, "emma, should you like me to read to you? i am afraid you are too ill." she said, "oh, do! i should so much like you to do so." the twenty-third psalm was read, and a few words of prayer offered; and to a friend, who afterwards went in, she said how very much she enjoyed it. we did indeed feel it good to be with her; but the affliction was of such a painful nature that she could not talk much. the doctor said that all that could be done for her was to keep her very quiet, and give her support, so that we often refrained from conversing with her, hoping very much that it might be the lord's will to restore her. on saturday morning our hopes were raised very high. she was quiet in her mind, satan not being permitted to harass her. her only fear seemed to be that she was ungrateful. she said, "i have so many friends, and they are all so kind." but we always found her to be truly grateful for every little act of kindness shown to her. towards evening a change for the worse took place. convulsions seized her, and, for about twelve hours, it was most painful to witness her struggle with the last enemy--so much so that her dear sister, who was devoted to her, was led to beg of the lord to release her. about six o'clock on lord's day morning her spirit took its flight, to be "for ever with the lord." truly, we could say it was her gain, though we felt the loss most keenly. the lord had been so good in supporting her through her painful affliction, that we felt we could justly say, with the poet- "her mind was tranquil and serene; no terror in her look was seen; her saviour's smile dispelled the gloom, and smoothed her passage to the tomb." c. wardle. prayer answered. a true incident. on the summit of washington mountain, overlooking the housatonic valley, stood a hut, the home of john barry, a poor charcoal-burner, whose family consisted of his wife and himself. his occupation brought him in but few dollars, and when cold weather came, he had managed to get together only a small provision for the winter. this fall, after a summer of hard work, he fell sick, and was unable to keep his fires going, so, when the snow of december, 1874, fell, and the drifts had shut off communication with the village at the foot of the mountain, john and his wife were in great straits. their entire stock of food consisted of only a few pounds of salt pork and a bushel of potatoes. sugar, flour, coffee, and tea had, early in december, given out, and the chances for replenishing the larder were slim indeed. the snowstorms came again, and the drifts deepened. all the roads, even in the valley, were impassable, and no one thought of trying to open the mountain highways, which even in summer were only occasionally travelled, and none gave the old man and his wife a thought. december 15th came, and with it the heaviest fall of snow experienced in berkshire county in many years. the food of the old couple on the mountain was now reduced to a day's supply, but john did not yet despair. he was a christian and a god-fearing man, and his promises were remembered; and so, when evening came, and the north-east gale was blowing and the fierce snowstorm was raging, john and his wife were praying and asking for help. in sheffield village, ten miles away, lived deacon brown, a well-to-do farmer of fifty years old, who was noted for his consistent and godly deportment, both as a man and a christian. the deacon and his wife had gone to bed early, and, in spite of the storm raging without, were sleeping soundly, when, with a start, the deacon awoke, and said to his wife, "who spoke? who's there?" "why," said the wife, "no one is here but you and me. what is the matter with you?" "i heard a voice," said the deacon, "saying, 'send food to john.'" "nonsense!" replied mrs. brown. "you've been dreaming." the deacon laid his head on his pillow, and was asleep in a minute. soon he started up again, and, waking his wife, exclaimed--"there, i heard that voice again--'send food to john.'" "well, well," said mrs. brown. "deacon, you are not well; your supper has not agreed with you. lie down and try to sleep." again the deacon closed his eyes, and again came the voice--"send food to john." this time the deacon was thoroughly awake. "wife," said he, "who do we know named john who needs food?" "no one i remember," replied mrs. brown, "unless it be john barry, the old charcoal-burner on the mountain." "that's it!" exclaimed the deacon. "now i remember, when i was at the store in sheffield the other day, clark, the merchant, speaking of john barry, said, 'i wonder if the old man is alive, for it is six weeks since i saw him, and he has not yet laid in his winter stock of groceries.' it must be old john is sick, and wanting food." so saying, the good deacon arose and proceeded to dress himself. "come, wife," said he, "wake our boy willie, and tell him to feed the horses and get ready to go with me; and do you pack up in the two largest baskets you have, a good stock of food, and get us an early breakfast, for i am going up to the mountain to carry the food i know john barry needs." mrs. brown, accustomed to the sudden impulses of her good husband, and believing him to be always in the right, cheerfully complied, and after a hot breakfast, deacon brown and his son willie, a boy of nineteen, hitched up the horses to the double sleigh, and then, with a month's supply of food, and a "good-bye, mother," started at five o'clock on that cold december morning for a journey that almost any other than deacon brown and his son would not have dared to undertake. the north-east storm was still raging, and the snow falling and drifting fast; but on, on went the stout, well-fed team on its errand of mercy, while the occupants of the sleigh, wrapped up in blankets and extra buffalo robes, urged the horses through the drifts and in the face of the storm. that ten miles' ride, which required in the summer hardly an hour or two, was not finished until the deacon's watch showed that five hours had passed. at last they drew up in front of the hut where the poor trusting christian man and woman were on their knees praying for help to him who is always the hearer and answerer of prayer; and as the deacon reached the door, he heard the voice of supplication, and then he knew that the voice which awakened him from sleep was sent from heaven. he knocked at the door. it was opened; and we can imagine the joy of the old couple when the generous supply of food was carried in, and the thanksgivings that were uttered by the starving tenants of that mountain hut. "call upon me in the day of trouble, and i will answer thee."--_lantern._ never think that you can make yourself great by making another less. answer to bible enigma. (_page 91._) "_create in me a clean heart, o god; renew a right spirit within me._"--psalm li. 10. c heba r . ezekiel i. i. r om e . acts xviii. 2. e glo n . judges iii. 15. a x e . judges ix. 48. t o w . isaiah i. 31. e liad a . 2 chronicles xvii. 17. i bha r . 2 samuel v. 15. n aphtal i . genesis xxx. 8. m ago g . 1 chronicles i. 5. e leale h . numbers xxxii. 37. a rara t . genesis viii. 4. c epha s . john i. 42. l am p . exodus xxvii. 20. e nged i . 1 samuel xxiii. 29. a roe r . numbers xxxii. 34. n aphtal i . 1 kings vii. 14. h arves t . genesis viii. 22. e ni w . proverbs xx. 1. a bisha i . 1 chronicles xviii. 12. r es t . hebrews iv. 9. t abera h . deuteronomy ix. 22. o mr i . 1 kings xvi. 25. g ibeo n[9] . 1 chronicles viii. 29. o bed-edo m . 2 samuel vi. 11. d ov e . genesis viii. 9. thomas tyler (aged 14 years). _potton_, _beds_. [9] "gideon" was given by mistake, in the enigma, instead of "gibeon." wisdom. (proverbs iii. 13-15.) true wisdom doth my soul admire, and would before fine gold prefer; for all the things i could desire are not to be compared with her. while earthly things fill earthly minds, attracted to their native clod, happy the man who wisdom finds, and holds her in the fear of god! the clever boy and the electrical machine. an electrical machine was in the window of a scientific instrument maker's shop, and a youth stood looking at it with eager eyes. he was observing every part with intense curiosity. at length, after a long, absorbing gaze, a neighbouring clock struck. he started like one awakened from a sleep, and ran with all speed to his master's workshop. the boy was the son of a working man--a smith, and was intended also for a working man, but not quite so laborious a trade. perhaps the boy was not strong enough for his father's manly trade, so he was apprenticed to a bookbinder in blandford street, marylebone. he was a very diligent lad, fond of work in hours of business, and fond of a book in hours of leisure. his master noticed this, and gave him leave to stay in the workshop during the dinner-hour. whilst his fellow-workers were drinking and smoking, the orphan boy was storing his mind with useful knowledge. in particular he loved books on scientific subjects. he liked to read about the wonders of chemistry; still more about electricity--that wonderful power that flashes out of the thunder-cloud, that dwells unseen in the dew-drop, that, at a touch, thrills through the startled nerves, and, like an invisible but mighty spirit, pervades all things, from the clouds of heaven to the clods of earth. one day he found out the shop window with the electrical machine, and at every spare moment he haunted that window, taking the shape and measure of every knob, and wire, and wheel, and plate, with earnest eyes. then he resolved to try and make one for himself; so by the light of the early summer mornings, he was up and working away at his machine. in time he completed it, and found it would act. he touched the knob, and the shock that went through him was as nothing compared with the joy that throbbed through his heart at seeing his work complete. he showed it to his master, who, being a kind and sensible man, was pleased and surprised at the ingenuity of the lad. the master was fond of showing the electrical apparatus of his industrious apprentice to every person likely to be interested in a clever youth. amongst them were some fellows of the royal society, who might, perhaps, have an admission ticket to give. some few years after, the lad, now a young man, was again gazing with wide open eyes, and laying up all he saw in his mind. this time it was not through a shop window that he looked. it was from a seat in the royal society's lecture-room that he witnessed sir humphrey davey making some beautiful chemical experiments. the youth did not know which most to admire--the beautiful apparatus, the wonderful experiments, or the eloquent lecture. all was so new to him--so interesting. but the lecturer himself was, above all the rest, the object of his admiration. our youth, having been a reader, knew that sir humphrey davey was not born of rich parents, though his kindred and his breeding were virtuous and respectable. in the remote town of penzance, in cornwall, from the most western extremity in england, the great man had come. he had taught himself nearly all he knew; and now the youth saw him standing before the mighty and the noble of the land, the light of genius in his flashing eyes, the words of wisdom on his eloquent lips. "oh, if i could but follow the steps of such a master!" was the involuntary wish of the youthful hearer. this thought soon produced action. promptness was a leading part of the young man's character, so he resolved to write to the great chemist, and state that he wished to follow some other trade than that to which he had been apprenticed; that he loved science, and would think himself happy to be employed in any way in the laboratory of so great a man. it was a bold step, but the request, though urgent, was full of the noble humility of real worth. his letter was not neglected. inquiries were made. the good master had no wish to prevent the youth entering on a career for which his talents and studious habits fitted him. the electrical apparatus was another aid to him, so the wish of his heart was granted. he entered the laboratory of the great man, and had ample opportunity to study and to improve. there is no need to say he did not waste his time or neglect his opportunities. sir humphrey davey died, leaving a name dear to the philanthropist, as well as the man of science; but his place was not long vacant. who filled it? he whose youth we have feebly sketched; he whose lectures at the royal institution were listened to by the prince consort and the prince of wales--the celebrated and much-beloved professor faraday. "seest thou the man that is diligent in business? he shall stand before kings." professor faraday was not only one of the greatest scientific authorities that ever lived, but he was a companion of humble-minded christians. his weekdays he devoted to science, but on the sunday he might be heard telling the story of redeeming love to delighted listeners. christ's time was largely taken up in making people happy. we do well to remember that, and to do our best in ministering to the happiness of all around us. our bible class. god's independence of all, and his declared need of some of his creatures. (psalm l. 12, and matthew xxi. 1-3.) that god is independent the bible everywhere declares. all beings beside himself are his creatures, and he is lord of all. he needs nothing, for he possesses all things. no _supplies_, for, though he ordained sacrifices and planned his temple, heaven is his throne, and earth his footstool, and his own hand gives life, power, and sustenance to all (acts xvii. 25). no _tribute_. the free-will offerings of david and his people, for the building of the temple, were a sweet sacrifice to god; but david truly described matters when he said, "of _thine own_, o lord, have we given unto thee" (1 chron. xxix. 14). he needs _no information_ or _guidance_ (see isa. xl. 13-15). "who hath directed the spirit of the lord? or being his counsellor, hath taught him?" the question is not asked of angels, but of men; and "all nations before him are as a drop of a bucket"--the little drips that fall from it as it is drawn up from the well--while "he taketh up the islands as a very little thing"--a light thing, lifted easily with the fingers. no creatures can give their creator a single new thought, or any help of any kind (rom. xi. 34-36). "for who hath _known_ the mind of the lord?" who then could have been his counsellor? or who hath first given to him? this can never be, "for _of_ him, and _through_ him, and _to_ him are all things, to whom be glory for ever. amen." therefore he needs give no _explanations_ to any of his creatures. "who can say unto him, what doest thou?" (dan. iv. 35.) thus god is above all, and independent of all. yet jesus "needed" the ass and colt (matt. xxi.). we read of "coming to the help of the lord against the mighty" (judges v. 23); and paul spoke about "working together with god" in teaching his people. the bible is full of these contrasts. god is so high, and yet so condescending; full of majesty, yet "plenteous in mercy to all who call upon him." there is no contradiction in the contrast; but god's needs are never necessities. our needs arise out of our _nature_. we need food, clothing, and comforts, friendship and sympathy; but all god's needs come from his _will_ and his _love_. how beautifully this appears in the life of jesus! he came to earth as a little infant, needing a mother's care. he grew up in humble circumstances, and when he went forth, at thirty years of age, to preach the gospel, "the son of man had not where to lay his head." he also needed the many ministries of love his devoted followers rendered to him. and when he died, others must provide the grave-clothes and the tomb, for he had none of his own. "though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich." "for our sakes!" this is the keynote to all the needs of the almighty. the father of the lord jesus christ chose his people in his son before the foundation of the world, and the father of a family needs his children because they are his own, and he loves them. the shepherd needs his sheep to be safe, and will not willingly lose them. jesus is the good shepherd, who bought his sheep with his own life and blood, and must needs gather and keep them every one. the physician needs patients whose healing shall proclaim his knowledge and skill, and the great physician of sin-sick hearts will glorify himself by bringing perfect health and cure to all who are led to him by the holy spirit. do we feel our need of him? have we discovered that we are fallen, lost, guilty, and diseased? then _he needs us_, and has shown us our need, that he may relieve, supply, and bless us with his great salvation. in the same way he needs his people's services for _their own_ sakes. by fighting the lord's battles of old, his servants were interested in his cause. by working with him now, in preaching, teaching, warning, and comforting others, christ's followers still are honoured and blessed. when saul of tarsus, breathing out slaughter and bitterness against the sheep of christ, was hastening like a wolf to damascus, jesus stopped him, made him a new creature, and caused him to utter that cry of anguish, "lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" like the jailer's question, "what must i do to be saved?" it came from a convinced and burdened heart. saul suddenly discovered that his life had been one terrible mistake--that jesus of nazareth was the lord of heaven--and tremblingly he wondered, "could there be pardon for such a rebel as he now felt himself to be?" could not the same almighty voice have spoken peace to that troubled conscience? certainly; but jesus required ananias to be his messenger to the humbled pharisee; and, after three days of suspense and blindness, while his tears had been his only food, ananias arrived with the message of peace. how tenderly it was given! he put his hands on him, and said, "brother saul, the lord, even jesus, who appeared to thee by the way as thou camest, hath sent me unto thee," and comfort, sight, and joy followed, while the believing penitent was baptized in the name of his lord. how gracious and wise was all this! how closely it drew ananias and saul together as brethren--children of the same heavenly family. paul always lovingly remembered his first christian friend (acts xxii. 12, 13), and we are sure that ananias never forgot that memorable day. and in the same way christ still needs the loving services of his people to one another; and those who are taught and helped, love their christian helpers, while the helpers feel a double love towards those to whom they have been made useful. thus the great and glorious independent and almighty king condescends to make use of feeble worms. and which should we most admire, his majesty, or his tenderness? we cannot tell. he is all-wise and all-powerful, and-"with heaven and earth at his command, he waits to answer prayer." therefore, "blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness," for the time is coming when "they shall hunger no more, neither thirst, for the lamb in the midst of the throne" shall fill them with all good, and there will be no more "need" on either side. jesus shall see his people fully saved, and "shall be satisfied"; and they, "beholding his face in righteousness, shall be gratefully satisfied, when they awake, with his likeness" (psa. xvii. 15). may this joy unspeakable be ours. our next subject will be, _the good shepherd gathering his sheep_ (john x. 16). yours affectionately, h. s. l. bible subjects for each sunday in may. may 6. commit to memory rom. viii. 31. may 13. commit to memory rom. viii. 32. may 20. commit to memory rom. viii. 33. may 27. commit to memory rom. viii. 34. prize essay. how to be useful in the world. there are five heads under which this subject may be placed--love, truthfulness, obedience, cheerfulness, peacemakers. _love._ if true love is inspired in our hearts, our chief aim will consist in trying to be a help to others, which is very useful and needful, even in our own homes. the power of love is of such value, that those who know it esteem it as a precious gem set in gold, for without it, our life would be a path of misery and woe--two of the most terrible burdens in the world. love is the true spring of usefulness. _truthfulness_ is always needful. he who is tempted to tell a lie should consider that he may be struck dead while doing so; and then, where will his soul awake? truth _will_ out, if it be a long while hidden. it will stand like the mountain against the roaring sea--nothing can move it; for with it, is a clear conscience in the sight of god. if truth were spoken more freely and carefully, we should be far happier. its preciousness cannot be sufficiently prized. _obedience_ is often the root of cheerfulness. an obedient child has this motto in view--"thou, god, seest me." obedience is useful in preserving us from many dangers, which our elders can often foresee, and which might prove the ruin of our immortal souls if we were to be disobedient. thus it brings happiness into the homes and hearts of children and parents, and so produces cheerfulness. _cheerfulness_ is sure to arise, in due course, from godliness. if we have trials, we should not give way to despair, and make those about us unhappy; but we should try to attend to our work, and look at the brighter side of our troubles, and encourage those whom we often find in greater difficulties than ourselves; at the same time, not forgetting to take our crosses to god. we may cheer many a saddened heart by cheerful words, and sometimes entice the young revenger to forget and forgive. _peacemakers_ are thus spoken of--"blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of god" (matt. v. 9). christ teaches us this in his sermon on the mount; and he also set us the example. a little child may be a peacemaker, if it is only to say a word of love, and so stem the rising tempest. in time, it may develop itself more fully, and we may thus honour our holy master by treading in his footsteps, and proving a help to all who know it, in speaking his truth boldly and sincerely. for an example of usefulness, we must consider the precious jesus, and pray for grace to imitate him in all his ways; then we shall not willingly do wrong, for he is superlatively good. margaret creasey (aged 14 years). _sydney house, sleaford._ [our young friend tells us her age will not admit of her writing the essays in future, but we hope she will not forget us, and we pray that the lord may give her grace to live a useful and honourable life as a disciple of jesus. we have received several creditable essays this month, those from e. b. knocker, jane bell, lilly rush, florrie rush, and w. e. cray deserving special mention as giving signs of approaching success.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "notable workers in humble life." the subject for july will be, "the difference between 'uncertain riches' and 'the true riches'" (see tim. vi. 17; prov. xxiii. 5; luke xvi. 11; prov. viii. 18, &c.); and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the story of the spanish armada." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of june.] we insert the following to show what even very young children can accomplish by trying, and with a desire to encourage our young friend and others to _try again_:-how to be useful in the world. little children can be useful in many ways. first, learn to be useful at home. lay the meals, and do the dusting; go on errands, and be kind to brothers and sisters. always speak the truth, and obey your parents; and if you are sent out on an errand, or with a message, and any other little children try to persuade you to go with them, mind and obey your parents. be gentle in your manner and duties, and be careful with little children, if you have to see to them, and with your brothers and sisters, and in all your duties. we should be very careful to do what we are told to do, and also very careful not to do what we are told not to do. be kind, not selfish; dutiful to parents; and do little things willingly; try and persevere at school; be strictly honest, whatever occupation you may be in; always be just, and if you do this, people will feel they can trust you; but if you do not, people will say they cannot trust you. set an example not to be cruel to anything or any body, but to be kind to all, and love and obey your parents. mercy phillips (aged 7 years, 10 months). _lindfield, hayward's heath._ interesting items. over 10,000,000 eggs now arrive in new york city weekly. one recent canada train had thirty-one cars, with 200,000 eggs in each. the chief supply to the new york market comes from canada and michigan. united states' flour exports.--the united states now manufacture yearly 70,000,000 barrels of flour, and of this one-seventh part is exported. the great bulk of this flour is sent from eight atlantic ports to europe. among the "fowls of the air" are three, the eagle, swan, and raven, which live to the age of one hundred years or more. the paroquet and heron attain the goodly age of sixty years. the sparrow-hawk, duck, and pelican may live to be forty, while the peacock and linnet reach the quarter century, and the canary twenty-four years. a sagacious dog.--just recently a dog, of the black and tan terrier species, entered the bolton infirmary unobserved, and forced itself upon the attention of the house-surgeon, who found one of the animal's legs broken. with the aid of nurses he set the limb, the dog meanwhile licking the surgeon's hand. it refused to leave the institution, and was installed as an in-patient. how the dog got into the infirmary is unknown. we understand that the hall which, for the last nearly sixty years, has been appropriated in glasgow to caricaturing religion, and where mockery of the sabbath, recitations, comic songs, dancing, and all sorts of diabolical devices to entrap weak souls, were revelled in, where many sabbaths mrs. besant and mr. bradlaugh gave vent to their mockery and blasphemy of god, is henceforth to be used for the worship of the almighty. origin of the word "news."--the word "news" is not, as many may imagine, derived from the adjective "new." in former years (between 1595 and 1730) it was a prevalent practice to put over the periodical publications of the day the initial letters of the cardinal points of the compass, thus--n e w s, implying that those papers contained intelligence from the four quarters of the globe, and from this practice is derived the term of "newspaper." a telegram states that the body of alexander the great has been found among the sarcophagi lately unearthed at saida, in syria. it is stated that the body can be positively identified by its inscription, and other particulars. alexander is known to have died at babylon, and on his death-bed he is stated to have told his sons to convey his body to alexandria, the city he had founded at the mouth of the nile. although the monarch did not live thirty-three years, or reign thirteen, he did more than all before or since his time. amongst the most curious of recorded wills is that of a mr. thomas tuke, of wath, near rotherham, who, dying in 1810, bequeathed a penny to every child that should be present at his funeral. another provision of the will ordered a shilling to be given to every poor woman in wath, whilst to his own daughter he only bequeathed the pittance of four guineas per annum. an old woman had for eleven years attended him. to her he bequeathed the munificent sum of one guinea only, for, as he expressed it, "tucking him up in bed." a further whimsy of the selfish humourist was a bequest of forty dozen penny buns to be thrown from the church tower at noon on christmas day for ever. one day, a gentleman's attention was attracted by an unusual commotion in his stable, where two carriage horses were kept. looking in, he saw that one of the animals had got out of its loose box, and was helping itself to a bucket of mash which the coachman had left at the door. the other horse was neighing loudly, evidently demanding a share in the feast. what was the gentleman's surprise to see the first horse fill its mouth with the mash, and then push its nose through the bars of the loose box, for its imprisoned companion to take the relish from its mouth. this was repeated several times. the horse which was thus fed had often been seen to push over some of his hay into his companion's rack, when that was emptied first. a submerged forest.--during the late violent storms in the channel, the sea washed through a high and hard sand-bank near st. malo, nearly four metres thick, laying bare a portion of an ancient forest which was already passing into the condition of coal. this forest at the beginning of our era covered an extensive tract of the coast; but with the sinking of the land it became submerged and covered up by the drifting sand. mont saint michel once stood in the middle of it. the forest had quite disappeared by the middle of the tenth century. occasionally, at very low tides after storms, remains of it are disclosed, just as at present. it is believed that, some centuries ago, the highest tides rose about twelve metres above the level of the lowest ebb. now the high-water level is 15.5 metres above the lowest. preaching at kensington the other week, cardinal manning said that there are labouring in london no less than 350 roman catholic priests and 1,000 nuns. a snake that understood english.--it is related that some americans recently going through the jardin des plantes of paris, stopped to look at a big rattlesnake in a cage. it lay motionless, apparently asleep, but when two of the party who lingered behind began to speak in english, it moved, lifted its head, and gave every sign of interest. they told their companions that the snake understood english. the whole party then returned to the cage. the snake was apparently asleep again. they conversed in french, but the snake made no movement. then the ladies began to speak in english. the snake started, lifted its head, and showed the same alertness as before at the sounds. the rattlesnake proved, on inquiry, to have come from virginia. the south african gold fields.--the _natal mercury_ says:--"the gold exports for january, 1888, from natal were £31,447, and from the cape £26,115, making a total of £57,562. this is a capital opening for the first month of the year, and if continued in the same ratio, will mean the handsome total for the year of £690,744. glowing reports continue to come in from the waterfall, at the kantoor. a number of buildings are going up. last week a seven-ounce nugget was brought into barberton. two portuguese are said to be making, on an average, four ounces per day, say £100 per week, and their ground is described as a regular 'bank.' of course they and a few others are exceptionally lucky ones; but all are said to be making a good living." st. patrick's day in new york.--the following "open letter" has been addressed to the mayor of new york:--"69, wall street, new york, march 19th, 1888.--my dear sir,--while coming from washington yesterday on the limited express, my eye caught the telegram printed in a washington paper announcing your order forbidding the display of the irish flag from the city hall on st. patrick's day. i could not repress an audible and emphatic 'amen,' quite to the surprise of the ladies and gentlemen in the car. for many years i, in company with thousands of americans and adopted citizens from england, france, and germany, have been outraged and scandalized by this annual insult to our intelligence, our pride of country, our religious belief. in the minds of many others besides the writer, that banner represents in a large degree the worst elements in our body politic--ignorance, vice, bigotry, and crime. it is displayed on the 17th of march in nearly every rum shop, gambling hell, and thieves' den in new york. it was borne in the ranks of the murderous mob that held possession of the city in the july riots of '63. but, aside from this, no legal or other right exists for the display of that flag or any other, except the ones you indicate, from the city hall of the great metropolis of a land whose people are by a large majority consistent protestants, on a day set apart to honour the memory of a fabulous roman catholic saint. furthermore, this is literally a rum-sellers' and a rum-drinkers' procession. the wholesale rum-seller rides on horseback, the retail rum-seller rides in a carriage, the drinkers walk, until many of them, overcome by rum, fall in the gutter, are gathered up by the police, cared for in the station houses and the penitentiary, cleaned, and clothed, and fed at the expense of the long-suffering taxpayer. i respect the honest, right-living irishman or woman, catholic or protestant, and would not deny them a single right to which i, a native-born american citizen, am entitled; but i enter my indignant protest against the steadily increasing attacks upon our most valued institutions by this largely foreign-born and most turbulent portion of our population. it is high time to call a halt and compel obedience to decency and law. you will certainly receive the heartfelt thanks and unanimous support of every lover of our city, our country, our institutions, our laws.--i am, my dear sir, very respectfully yours, george shepard page. to his honour a. s. hewitt, mayor of the city of new york." [we say, all due honour to the noble mayor of new york, for such a common-sense decision.--ed.] keeping warm.--it may not be generally known that, when exposed to severe cold, a feeling of warmth is readily created by repeatedly filling the lungs to their utmost extent in the following manner. throw the shoulders well back, and hold the head well up. inflate the lungs slowly, the air entering entirely through the nose. when the lungs are completely filled, hold the breath for ten seconds or longer, and then expire it quickly through the mouth. after repeating this exercise while one is chilly, a feeling of warmth will be felt over the entire body, and even in the feet and hands. it is important to practise this exercise many times each day, and especially when in the open air. if the habit ever becomes universal, then consumption and many other diseases will rarely, if ever, be heard of. not only while practising the breathing exercise must the clothing be loose over the chest, but beginners will do well to remember, in having their clothing fitted, to allow for the permanent expansion of one, two, and even three inches, which will eventually follow. [illustration: "she now felt that she had lost her way." (_see page 122._)] lost and found. a true story for the little ones. little janet bruce lived in a pretty village in scotland. near to her home was a large wood. if you were to go into it without a guide, you might go on for miles before you could find your way out of it. in some places no path is to be seen, and tall trees and creeping plants cast a deep shadow over the ground. janet was the only child of a poor widow. her father had come to the village from a distant part of the country in search of work; but he had not been there long before he fell ill and died. it was a sad loss to janet and her mother, but god, who looks in pity on the widow and fatherless, raised up for them many kind friends. it was one evening, late in the autumn, that janet sat at the door of her mother's cottage. she had been told never to go far away from the house, lest she should be lost. but on this evening, as she looked over the fields, she saw some bright blue flowers near a bush; and as she was very fond of making little nosegays of wild blossoms, she thought she should like to pluck them. when these were gathered, there was still further away a hedge with shining buds. "oh," said she, "i should like to have them to put with my blue flowers." in a moment she sprang towards them, when a little bird was startled from its nest in the hedge. "what a pretty creature!" she cried. "how i should like to see where it will fly to!" and so she ran towards it, but the bird could fly much faster than she could run. soon it flew into the wood, and janet followed after it. thus we see how one wrong step leads to another. dear children, beware of the first temptation to acts of disobedience. it was a cool evening, and the wind blew among the trees. a little rain had begun to fall, and there were signs of a stormy night. where had little janet wandered to? and where could she find a shelter should there be a storm? the sun now sank behind the hills, and night came on. then it was dark--quite dark; and her young heart beat quickly as the wind moaned among the trees. she now felt that she had lost her way, and then sat down to weep. she thought what a naughty child she had been in not obeying her mother. at last she cried herself to sleep. as soon as the daylight came again, she awoke, and felt very hungry. but there was no nice breakfast ready for her, and no loving mother to kiss her. she was alone in that great wood. janet thought that it was no use for her to sit still, so she rose up, and walked on, but not so fast as before, for her feet were cold, her legs were stiff from lying on the damp ground, and she was weak from want of food. yet the more she went forward, the further she was from home, for she was going quite another way from that path which led to her mother's cottage. after a time she came to a place where she saw some dark-looking people seated on the outside of a little tent or camp. these were gipsies. at first she was afraid; but what was a little girl to do in that wide wood? so, thinking that they might be kind to her, she went to them, and told how she was lost. they told janet to sit down by their fire, and then they gave her some food out of a large iron kettle that hung from three upright sticks. the poor girl stopped with them all that day, and at night she cried, and asked them to take her home to her dear mother. but the gipsies looked at one another, and then spoke in a whisper, so that she might not hear what they said. at last, the men and women took off janet's nice frock, and put on her an old ragged dress. they also rubbed her face, neck, and hands with a dark juice, and then they told her that she must go with them, and she should be in the place of one of their own little girls who had died. the tent was now packed up, and put into a little cart, and all went forward into a part of the country janet had never seen before. now, poor child, all days were alike to her. she did not know sunday from any other day. she had no sabbath school to go to, nor any good books to read. instead of the sweet hymns she used to hear sung, she now only heard the vain and foolish songs of the gipsies. the bible, which her mother used to read to her every night and morning, was a book unknown to these wild people. in what state of mind was janet's mother all this time? the people of the village, when they first heard of her loss, went in search of the child. they took with them lanterns, and torches, and tin horns, to sound as a signal, should they find the lost one. onward they went; some along the fields, and others into the wood; but hour after hour passed away, and the little girl was not found. oh, what grief filled the widow's heart! "my child has fallen into the river, and is drowned," she cried; "or has strayed into the woods, and will be starved to death." when all the people had come back with the sad tidings that no trace of janet could be found, she wept aloud. nearly twelve months passed away, but janet was not happy with the gipsies. "take me to my mother," she often said with tears. "oh, do let me go home again!" they tried to please her with their wandering ways of life, but she could find no pleasure in them. she used to sit on the side of the road wherever they went, and look on every passer-by, to see if she could find any one she knew. but no, all faces were strange. she did not know that she was many miles away from her mother's cottage. as time went on, the gipsies saw that janet became very pale and ill. she was so weak that they thought she would die. they then told her that, in a few weeks, they would go back to the woods where they first met with her, and that she should again see her mother. how did janet count the days and hours till the time came; and when they once more reached the woods, she clapped her hands for joy. it was again the autumn of the year, and the reapers were at work in the fields. they were very busy, for they were afraid that a storm was coming on. it was just such a cloudy evening as that when janet was lost. they had cut down all the corn at the lower part of one of the fields, and had just reached a corner which lay against the entrance to the wood, when who should they see but a little gipsy girl. she ran as well as she could, for she was very feeble, towards them, crying, "i am janet! my name is janet bruce. oh, carry me home to my mother!" the reapers stopped in their work, and one of them caught the girl up in his arms, and looking for a moment in her face, shouted out, "yes, it is she! it is janet herself!" there could be no mistake, for though she had grown taller, and her dress was ragged, and her face was brown, they knew her again in a moment. the work of the day was soon over, and a seat of boughs of trees was quickly made, into which they put janet; then two of the strongest men raised her upon their shoulders, and carried her towards her own dear home. some went before--men, boys, and women--and some followed after; and as they went they sang aloud for joy. the glad tidings soon reached janet's cottage, and the mother rushed forward to meet her child. but we cannot tell you what were the feelings of the poor widow as she clasped janet once more in her arms. the gipsy dress was taken off, and better clothes put on, and like the father in the parable, the widow said, "this my child was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found." and so it is when a sinner is brought by the holy spirit to return to god. with shame and sorrow he says, "father, i have sinned." but god, who is rich in mercy, is ready to forgive. he will, for christ's sake, hear prayer. through his precious blood he will pardon sin. he will take off the ragged garments of sin, and put on the white robe of jesus' righteousness, and receive coming sinners as his children. then what sounds of joy are heard in heaven, when those who were lost are brought home to dwell for ever in their father's house! dear child, through the fall you are _lost_. have you been truly brought as a penitent to christ? if so, you are _found_. do not forget this--all the while any one knows not what it is to come to christ for mercy and pardon, he is lost. but the moment a sinner is truly brought to the cross of christ for salvation, he is found. are you among the lost or among the found? the dear old times. it is interesting to look over household and personal accounts of, say, a hundred and fifty years ago. some of these, which deal with the expenses of mr. gervase scrope, and of his son thomas, both of cockerington, lincolnshire, lie before me; and from them i find that "my dark-coloured cloth suit, trimmed with silver buttons and loops, was made november 21st, 1730, and cost in all £17 17s. 6d." this included two pairs of breeches. the cloth for the suit cost 18s. a yard; but mr. scrope had a cloak in 1732, the cloth of which cost £1 2s. a yard. in 1729, however, he procured a cheap knockabout suit of clothes for £9 0s. 6d. economy seems to have been necessary, for in 1731, "tommy had a pair of breeches made out of an old scarlet riding-coat of mine." boots and wigs were both dear; so also were hats. the squire's window-tax in 1748 amounted to £2 17s. only in the matter of certain articles of food were the old days cheaper than the new. in 1754, eight lbs. of veal cost 2s. 4d., or 3½d. per lb.; a tongue cost 1s. 10d.; 31 lbs. of round and rump of beef cost 12s., or about 4½d. per lb.; a leg and saddle of mutton cost 4s. 7d.; a quarter of lamb cost 1s. 6d.; 22 lbs. of pork were bought for 5s. 6d.; and rabbits ranged from 6d. to 1s. a couple, according to size. but coffee was 6s. a lb., and lump sugar was 10d. soap at this time cost 7s. 6d. a stone. bread was sometimes cheap, but whenever war broke out, the price always went up to a terrible height, and much misery and distress must have resulted. in 1886, the average price of wheat in england was 39s. 4d. per imperial quarter; in 1810 it was 106s. 5d.; and in 1801 it was 119s. 6d.; or more than three times as much as it was two years ago. those were indeed dear old times.--_cassell's saturday journal._ points to be aimed at. p unctual be throughout the day; o bedient to superiors; i ndustrious in every way; n ot haughty to inferiors: t ruthful in word, and trim in dress; s hun folly, and for wisdom press. j. b. all who now colour for show will hereafter be shown in their true colours. what a priest thought of roman catholic miracles. "_after the working of satan with all power, and signs, and lying wonders._"--2 thessalonians ii. 9. in the autumn of 1836, the marine hospital of quebec, in canada, was filled with patients suffering from ship typhoid fever, and so deadly was the disease that, by the following spring, a number of the officials and servants of the institution had also been smitten, and died. chiniquy had hitherto been spared, although in constant attendance on the patients, but in may, 1837, he was attacked with the fearful disease. his life was despaired of, and the last sacraments were administered to him. he could not speak. his tongue became like a piece of wood, and all that could be given him was a little cold water, dropped with much difficulty through his teeth. on the thirteenth night of his illness, he heard the doctors whisper, "he is dead, or nearly so," and they left the room. a deep horror seized him. an icy wave seemed to creep over his whole frame, and a terrible vision rose before his mind. a pair of scales stood before him. his sins were in one scale; his good works and penances in the other; and all his righteousness seemed but a grain of sand compared with a mountain load of guilt, and to god he dared not cry for mercy. but he thought of two saints--st. anne, who was believed to have cured hundreds of cripples, and st. philomene, who was just then the favourite saint of rome. to these he cried, with all the earnestness of his failing soul, and soon a bright vision came before him of an aged, grave lady, and a young and beautiful one, the latter distinctly saying to him, "you will be cured." the vision then disappeared, but the fever had gone also. the crisis was over. he was hungry, and asked for food, which was at once given him, and he ravenously ate the dainties prepared, while the friendly priests gathered round him joyfully, and sang a hymn of praise. of course they believed that the saints had cured him, and the roman catholic doctors shared their idea; but a protestant physician denied it altogether, and in a kind manner he tried to prove that no miracle had been wrought, but that returning health came from natural causes, by the will and blessing of god. chiniquy was unwilling, however, to change his mind on the subject, and, true to the vow he made in the hour of fear, he got a splendid picture painted, at a cost of £50, representing his vision as he lay seemingly on the bed of death. three months later, he was in the house of the curate of st. anne, a cousin of his, and he showed him the picture he intended to exhibit in the church next day. but, to his surprise and grief, his older relative, instead of sharing his belief, laughed heartily at his folly, asking him how he, as a man of sense, could possibly believe in such a miracle. chiniquy reminded him of all the crutches hanging in st. anne's church, belonging to the cripples she had cured, which remark gave rise to another burst of laughter on the curate's part. but, sobering down, he seriously declared that, having carefully watched these so-called cures, he had found that ninety-nine out of every hundred were impostures, the hundredth one being an honest belief, but a superstitious and fancied one. these pretended cripples were nearly always lazy beggars, who knew that their seeming lameness would get them pity and money, and, when tired of that game, they would make a begging tour, telling all their helpers that they were going to the church of st. anne, to pray for the use of their legs. they at last arrive there, pay from one to five dollars to have a mass said for them, and then, in the midst of the ceremony, just as they receive the wafer, there is a cry of joy. they are cured, and they leave their crutches behind as witnesses of their cure. they then return, and tell all who will listen as they go along, receiving fresh gifts from them until they get home again, to take a farm and settle down with their dishonest gains. "such," said the curate, "is the true history of the ninety-nine miracles. in the hundredth case the man is really cured, because he was really afflicted; but his nerves were wrought upon just as i was once cured of a dreadful toothache by seeing the dentist put his instrument on the table. i took my hat and left, and the dentist laughed heartily every time he met me afterwards. "one of the weakest points of our religion is the ridiculous miracles said to be wrought by the relics and bones of saints. for the most part, they are the bones of chickens or sheep; and were i a pope, i would throw all these pagan mummeries to the bottom of the sea, and would present to the eyes of sinners nothing but 'christ and him crucified' as the object of their faith, just as the apostles of jesus do in their epistles!" they talked together in this strain till two o'clock in the morning, and then chiniquy was too puzzled and sad to sleep. next morning, multitudes came to see his picture, and hear about his cure, which he long afterwards believed to be a miracle. soon after he had finally left his priesthood, however, he again caught the fever, while visiting a dying man, and again on the thirteenth day the malady took a favourable turn; but this time he had felt happy in the prospect of dying, and the vision he saw at the crisis of the disease was not st. anne, or st. philomene, but a dozen bishops, dagger in hand, rushing on him to take his life. he thought he turned on them and slew them, and with this the fever left him. he asked for food, and speedily recovered, and then he knew that it was the lord who had forgiven all his iniquities, who had also healed his diseases, without the aid of any of the saints of rome, and the snare which had long held him captive was broken. he no longer sought the aid of departed saints in heaven, any more than he thought of again praying for souls in purgatorial fires. the word of god was henceforth his only guide. may the religion of the bible only, be our religion also.--_jottings on "the life and work of father chiniquy," by cousin susan._ counting the cost. there are some curious stories respecting fra rocco, the celebrated preacher of naples. on one occasion, it is related, he preached a penitential sermon, and introduced so many illustrations of terror that he soon brought his hearers to their knees. while they were thus showing every sign of contrition, he cried out-"now, all of you who sincerely repent of your sins, hold up your hands." every man in the vast multitude immediately stretched out both his hands. "holy archangel michael," exclaimed rocco, "thou who with thine adamantine sword standest at the right of the judgment-seat of god, hew me off every hand which has been raised hypocritically." in an instant every hand dropped, and rocco, of course, poured forth a fresh torrent of eloquent invective against their sins and their deceit. [true repentance is given by jesus christ, the exalted prince and saviour. all other is but mere show, and unavailing before god.--ed.] a heart without a gift is better than a gift without a heart. juvenile gems. the subjects of these memoirs--ann jane woolford, george woolford, and hephzibah woolford--were born in the beautiful town of cheltenham, august 20th, 1840, january 28th, 1842, and february 14th, 1846. the names of their parents were george and ann woolford, both members of the church assembling for worship in bethel chapel, cheltenham. in all, four children shared their affection, interested their solicitudes, listened to their counsels, and knelt at their domestic altar. upon three out of the four the grave closed in comparative infancy; and, believing the "kindness and love of god our saviour toward man" appeared to them, the bereaved mother, partly to indulge in a subject of mournful interest, and partly to record the gracious dealings of god, drew up, with her own hand, the subjoined narrative:- george. "my eldest child, george woolford, was attacked by scarlatina on october 16th, 1851, from which he partially recovered, but died the following month. "perceiving his soul 'drawing nigh unto the grave, and his life to the destroyers,' i remarked, 'it will do you no harm to think of death, seeing we must all die.' with tears in his eyes he exclaimed, 'oh, mother, i am afraid i shall not go to heaven.' i asked _why_ he thus feared. his answer was, 'i am afraid the lord will not forgive me.' i said, 'my dear, the lord is ready to forgive _all_ who from their hearts are sorry for their sins; and i hope the holy ghost will enable you to pray for divine forgiveness.' he seemed much affected by these remarks, but said he was too ill to talk or listen to me. "in great earnestness (and i believe under divine influence) i entreated god to grant me the great favour of informing me whether my dear boy was interested in the everlasting covenant, which is 'ordered in all things, and sure.' "about two or three days after, he commenced a conversation by saying, 'mother, i am afraid i shall not go to heaven. i have been such a sinner. i am afraid i am so great a sinner that the lord will not save me. i have done so many things that are sinful, and they come into my mind and make me grieve.' i repeated several portions of the holy scripture, to which he listened in great earnestness, and then inquired, 'but, as i have not long to live, will the lord forgive me after putting it off so long?' i answered in the affirmative, and mentioned the dying thief, assuring him the lord was as willing to pardon him as he had been to pardon that malefactor. this relieved his mind, and he asked for his testament to read. "a few days after, while i was gazing intently on him, he meekly exclaimed, 'do not look at me so, my dear mother. it almost breaks my heart.' i said, 'my dear boy, do you ever _pray_?' he answered, 'i _try_ to do so; but do not know that i pray _aright_.' i remarked, 'if it is from your heart, the lord will answer it in his own time, for the prayer of necessity is that in which he delights.' "on the lord's day before his death he appeared much better, ate a hearty dinner, and remained up till between four and five in the afternoon, when he exclaimed, 'oh, mother, i am afraid my breath is getting bad again.' after several hours of great suffering, he cried out, 'dear lord, take me--do take me!' hearing him thus call upon the name of the lord, i approached him softly, and in soothing terms expressed my gladness at finding he was not afraid to die. 'no, dear mother,' he said, 'i am not afraid to die. i am happy now.' i inquired, 'do you love the lord?' 'oh, yes,' was his ready answer, and immediately ejaculated, 'dearest lord, take me--take me--take me!' a great many times. "his pains becoming stronger, he said, 'dear mother, do pray the dear lord to take me!' i did so; and when risen from my knees, he said, 'thank you, my dear mother. i hope the lord will answer your prayer,' and then added, 'oh, my dear, dear lord, do take me! take me from this world now. i do not want to live here. take me with my next breath. this moment, dear lord, take me.' "observing the state of his mind, i put this question to him--'my dear boy, do you think the lord has washed you in his blood, and clothed you in his precious righteousness?' 'oh, yes, i do, mother,' was his prompt reply. "his pains abating, he remarked, 'how kind the lord is to me! i shall never be able to praise him enough.' i said, 'my dear, you will have the countless ages of eternity to praise him in.' he said, 'i want to go.' i answered, 'pray for patience, that you may wait the lord's time.' 'i am not impatient, but my pains are great,' was his meek reply, and he began entreating the lord to remove him from this sinful world. "a short time after this, he exclaimed, 'oh, that precious book, the bible!' i answered, 'it is indeed a precious book. it tells us of a saviour, who washed you and me in his precious blood!' he said, 'yes'; and added, 'pray for him to take me soon. do, dear mother,' &c. "expressing a desire to kiss my hand, i gave him one. he held it very tightly, and kissed it several times. i asked him if he thought he had been a little sinner or a great one. surprised by this question, and apparently hurt, he replied, 'oh, mother, a _great_ one--a _great_ one.' "overhearing a part of my conversation with his aunt, he said, 'oh, mother, do not ask the lord to let me live. i want to die. i would not live half a second.' "shortly after, he repeated a similar prayer, wished to see his father, kiss him, and take his leave of him, which he did in an affectionate manner. he then inquired what o'clock it was, and being disappointed, cried out in a tone of thrilling solemnity, 'o lord of hosts, come and take me!' shortly afterwards he exclaimed, lifting up his eyes and hands to heaven, 'i think i am dying. pray again, dear mother, that the lord may take me.' persuaded of his interest in christ, i was enabled to resign him, and much as i loved him, actually entreated the lord to fetch him away. when this was over, he said, 'thank you, my dearest mother. i hope the lord will answer all your prayers before long.' "at another time, he remarked, 'how good the lord is to me, is he not?' and again, 'my sufferings are great, but they will soon be over, for i shall soon be with the lord'; and in a manner i cannot describe, exclaimed, 'oh, dear lord jesus christ, and holy ghost, come and take me.' "not long after, he remarked, 'i shall soon go now. something has broke in my head. you may send for some one to lay me out.' "after a short interval he complained of shortness of breath, and proceeded to call upon the lord in a sweet manner, but in a short time suddenly exclaimed, 'now i know i shall soon be gone, for two things have broke within me. does not my voice get weaker?' "after giving directions about his books, he again complained of his distresses, and i remarked, 'the way to the kingdom was through much tribulation.' he requested that i would pray for patience; and upon being reminded that the lord loved him too well to detain him one moment beyond the appointed time, he said, 'oh, why is he so long in coming? dear lord, come _now_!' "referring him to some of the lord's children who had suffered fire and sword, but were now in glory, i added, 'you will soon be with them, and have ten thousand smiles from your redeemer, with love in every smile.' this seemed to refresh his spirit, and i continued, 'one moment with christ will more than recompense for all your pain.' he said, 'oh, yes. come, dear lord, and take me!' "heart and flesh failing, his father was called into his room. the patient sufferer looked calmly at him, gently moved to the other side of the chair, said 'mother!' and resting his head on his arm, and with a pleasant countenance, and without a groan, quietly fell asleep in christ, november 17th, 1851, at five o'clock a.m." thus died george woolford, aged nine years and nine months. "those that sleep in christ will god bring with him." "'i take these little lambs,' said he, 'and lay them in my breast; protection they shall find in me; in me be ever blest. "'death may the bands of life unloose, but can't dissolve my love; millions of infant souls compose the family above.' "his words the happy parents hear, and shout with joys divine- 'dear saviour, all we have and are shall be for ever thine.'" hephzibah. "my dear hephzibah was taken ill on the fifth of november, and though i have not many sayings of hers to record, i nevertheless believe that there was 'some good thing in her toward the lord god of israel,' and therefore, in solemn pleasure, rehearse the memorials of his grace. "on the fourth day of her illness she said, 'mother, i am very ill, but i am not afraid to die, mother. no; i should like to die, and be with the lord, for i do love him, mother, that i do, better than every one besides.' 'but do you not love your father and mother best?' i inquired. her answer was, 'i do love _you_ both very dearly, but i love the lord _most_. ought i not to love him most, mother?' i said, 'yes, my dear.' she replied, 'and so i _do_. i want to go to heaven, to be with him. and i should like my dear father, and mother, and ann jane, and george, and rhoda to go with me. would not that be happy, to meet and never part again? there we should have all we want.' i replied, 'yes, my dear, "for the lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water, and god shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." "and there shall be no night there."' 'oh, will not that be happy, mother?' she exclaimed. 'i want to die, that i may see the lord. he is so good and kind to me.' i asked, 'would you not like to get well again?' and her reply was, 'i would rather die and go to jesus.' "the frequency of her expressed desires to 'depart and be with christ' excited a trembling apprehension in my mind of her speedy dissolution, an apprehension fully verified by the event. "she now sunk into a state of unconsciousness, in which she continued for more than a week, suffering very much, indicating the speedy disrupture of all earthly ties, and inducing a perpetual vigil. "to my surprise she suddenly rallied, seemed to get better, and 'hope told a flattering tale'; but it disappointed us, and rendered the separation more trying. "the sensitive vigilance of my child's conscience was very remarkable. for instance, when any little delicacy had been declined, she remained inflexible, remarking that to alter her decision would be to 'tell a story,' which, she said, 'would be very wicked.' "on the day she died, she said, 'mother, i am very ill. i think i shall die. my throat is so bad.' shortly after, she said, 'mother,' and was silent. a few minutes after that, she lifted up her dear eyes and hands to heaven three times, clasping her hands and letting them down again. "none but a mother knows a mother's heart. i saw the stroke, clasped my loved hephzibah, and impressed the farewell kiss on her dying cheek. she looked at me, gave up the ghost, and was 'carried by the angels into abraham's bosom' on november 28th, 1851, in the sixth year of her age." "one gentle sigh their fetters breaks, we scarce can say, 'they're gone!' before the willing spirit takes her mansion near the throne. "faith strives, but all its efforts fail to trace her in her flight; no eye can pierce within the veil which hides that world of light. "thus much (and this is all) we know- they are completely blest; have done with sin, and care, and woe, and with their saviour rest." [the memoir of the third child, ann jane, will appear next month.] the blind tortoise in the well. a blind tortoise lived in a well. another tortoise, a native of the ocean, in his inland travels happened to tumble into this well. the blind one asked of his new comrade whence he came. "from the sea." hearing of the sea, he of the well swam round a little circle and asked-"is the water of the ocean as large as this?" "larger," replied he of the sea. the well tortoise then swam two-thirds of the well, and asked if the sea was as big as that. "much larger than that," said the sea tortoise. "well, then," asked the blind tortoise, "is the sea as large as this whole well?" "larger," said the sea tortoise. "if that is so," said the well tortoise, "how big, then, is the sea?" the sea tortoise replied, "you having never seen any other water than that of your well, your capability of understanding is small. as to the ocean, though you spent many years in it, you would never be able to explore the half of it, nor to reach the limit, and it is utterly impossible to compare it with this well of yours." the well tortoise replied, "it is impossible that there can be a larger water than this well. you are simply praising up your native place with vain words." how many people there are like the tortoise in the well! bible enigma. though 'tis not seen, yet it is known, for oft it makes e'en strong men groan. the proud and bold have shook with fear when they have felt this strong one near. yea, monarchs have before it fell, and feared that they should sink to hell. but oft the sad have felt this power, and found, in trouble's darkest hour, such friendly help that they have said they never more should be afraid. and such as felt condemned to die have been released and filled with joy. now, reader, search your bible through, and tell us where these things you view. the greatest happiness of the creature is not to have the creature for his happiness. "the sense and senses of animals." sir john lubbock, m.p., some time since, delivered an address in queen street hall, edinburgh, to the members of the edinburgh philosophical institution, on "the sense and senses of animals." in the course of his remarks the lecturer said that one would gratefully admit that the dog was a loyal, and true, and affectionate friend, but when we came to consider the nature of the animal, our knowledge was very limited. that arose a good deal from the fact that people had tried rather to teach animals than to learn from them. it had occurred to him that some such method as that which was followed in the case of deaf mutes might prove instructive if adapted to the case of dogs. he had tried with a black poodle belonging to himself. he then went on to relate several experiments he had made with pieces of cardboards, with different words marked upon them. he had taken two pieces of card, one blank, and the other with the word "food" upon it. he had put the latter on a saucer containing some bread and milk, and the blank card he put on an empty saucer. the dog was not allowed to eat until it brought the proper card to him. this experiment was repeated over and over again, and in about ten days the dog began to distinguish the card with the letters on it from the plain card. it took a longer time to make the dog realize the difference between different words. in order to try and discover whether the dog could distinguish colours, he prepared six cards, marking two of them blue, two yellow, and two orange. he put one of each on the floor, and tried to get the dog to bring to him a card with the same colour as one which he showed the dog in his hand. after trying this for three months, he found that his experiment in this direction was a failure. he had always felt a great longing to know how the world appeared to the lower animals. it was still a doubtful point whether ants were able to hear. from experiments which he had made, he had come to the conclusion they had not the power of addressing each other. his impression on the whole was, that bees and ants were not deaf, but that they heard sounds so shrill as to be beyond our hearing. there was no doubt about insects seeing. he then went on to relate several experiments he had made with the view of discovering whether different insects could distinguish different colours, and had any preference for particular colours. the colours of objects must present a very different impression upon insects to that on human beings. the world to them might be full of music which we could not hear, colours which we could not see, and sensations which we could not feel. beware of thorns. a hand encased in leathern glove, one pensive autumn day, gathered some pretty wayside flowers, to make a bright bouquet. with kind intent the flowers were culled, to please a loved one's taste; but ah! unconsciously, some thorns were with the blossoms placed. the hand that grasped the welcome gift soon felt the piercing smart, and pain dispelled the grateful smile that rayed out from the heart. would we to spirits bowed and sad convey a transient joy? let not the lack of tender skill our kindly deed alloy. e. d. if you pursue sin for profit you will never profit by your sin. the cost of a broken sabbath. a bright sabbath morning in august, a young minister was on his road to a distant parish, where he had engaged to take the services. he overtook a group of lads, evidently bent on an excursion of amusement. a boy, coming from the opposite direction, was being alternately persuaded and chaffed to give up _for once_ going to sunday school, and join the pleasure-party instead. just then an old man, of venerable appearance, who had watched the group from his garden, came forward and addressed the boys in the following words-"lads, you may think lightly _now_ of what you are doing, but sabbath-breaking leads to ruin--has led to the gallows. ben"--turning to the boy on his way to sunday school--"don't be ashamed of doing right. the lord saith, 'them that honour me i will honour, and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed.' ah! boys, be warned in time. you cannot reckon _the cost of a broken sabbath_." ben, strengthened thus, went on his way, regardless of the jeers of the other lads, who, turning over a stile, were quickly out of sight and hearing. the minister also went on his way, but the earnest tones and sad expression of the aged man had made a deep impression on him, and he pondered if some personal experience lay behind that solemn warning, "you cannot reckon _the cost of a broken sabbath_." the evening of that day found him coming through the fields by a path which led hard by the door of the cottage of the old man. it had been pointed out as shorter and pleasanter than the dusty high road which he had travelled in the morning. the day had been hot, and an offer to go back to the rectory for refreshment had been declined, as it would lengthen the walk considerably; but now, tired and thirsty, he resolved to test the hospitality of the owner of the cottage. the old man sat outside his doorway, with his big bible on a round table. the wayfarer asked for a little water to drink. he was courteously requested to enter in and rest, and a draught of milk proposed instead, unless he could wait for a cup of tea. the kettle was boiling in the back kitchen, and the little table, covered with a snowy cloth, was already set for a solitary meal, which the visitor was invited to share. he accepted the kindly offer, not sorry to have an opportunity of converse with one whose words had lingered with him through the day. having explained how he had been occupied since passing in the early morn, he remarked-"you live alone?" "yes, sir, i am alone in the world, but yet not alone, for the saviour is often with me in my humble dwelling, and i hope in a little while he'll come and take me to his home above." "that is a blessed hope to cheer and make you patient to wait his time, my friend," was the rejoinder. "have you been left long alone?" "the last went home twenty years ago, come michaelmas," said the aged host. "it has been whiles a weary waiting-time, but it's sinful to repine. his time must be the right time." whilst the old man went to fetch the tea, the guest looked round and observed some articles of carved wood--boxes, flat rulers, and leaf-cutters--and was struck with the frequent recurrence of short words of holy writ on the sabbath. some little books lay on the window-sill, many of which were on the same subject. after impressively asking god's blessing, and whilst partaking of the simple meal, the visitor remarked-"i see the sanctity of the lord's day is a strong point with you. i was struck this morning with the expression you used to those lads--'_the cost of a broken sabbath_.'" [illustration: "the old man sat with his big bible." (_see page 132._)] no response came for some minutes, as if the host was debating some question with himself; and so it proved, for at last he raised his head and said, with a vast depth of pathos in his tones-"none have had greater reason to know the bitter cost, sir, than myself. it is not often that i speak of the past, but it may be the lord has brought you here for a purpose to-day, and you may be able to use it as a warning to some within your influence." "if your story will not be too painful to you, my friend, i should indeed feel grateful to you for it," was the response. "i do not belong to these parts, sir," he began, "but i've been here over a quarter of a century. i lived in a large village in a midland county, where some extensive mill-works were carried on, and rose from a lad's tasks there to fill the place of foreman. i married happily, and had a home of comfort and peace with a loving, godly wife. four children out of six born to us grew up--two sons and two daughters--and after the toil and din of the week, sunday was a day of quiet enjoyment, in the midst of my family, spent in god's house and our home, with the aid of books and singing, for we all had fair voices. it had never been counted a dull day by the young folks. the lovely flowers and birds, and the wonders of the book of creation and the book of grace, made the day of holy rest seem all too short. but our circle did not remain unbroken. first, our eldest girl, poor maggie, left home to take a situation in a neighbouring town, and soon after, our first-born, david, who had never taken kindly to mill-work, obtained employment in an office in the same town, within five minutes' walk of his sister. this seemed well for both, being much attached to each other. ned and mary still clung to the old home, and the other two frequently spent the sabbath in our midst. david almost always walked over in the early morn, or late on saturday night, returning, if alone, on monday morning, or, if maggie accompanied him, the same evening, as she was not allowed out at night. she could only, of course, take turns with her fellow-servants; but, unless weather prevented, we could surely reckon on the flown birds coming, when able, back to their nest on the sabbath. "but at last came just such a lovely summer day as this has been. we lingered before starting for church till long after the bells had been chiming, but neither of them came. we looked to find them on our return, and dinner waited long; but the night came, and we had not heard or seen aught of either. i overheard ned in the garden speaking to mary-"'i shan't feel easy till i've run over to the town to-morrow, after work-hours. i hear there was to be a river excursion from the town to-day--a steamer calling for a lot of folks.' "'but, ned, you don't believe davie or maggie would go?' said mary, half reproachfully. "'i don't feel comfortable about it,' replied her brother. 'maggie could be persuaded to go anywhere with david, and he and i had a talk not long ago on sunday trips. he said folks could thus get out into pure country air, for a few pence, who were cooped up all the week in the smoke of the town, and those who desired it could go to a place of worship even twice, and get tea, before they had to start on the return voyage.' "the fear expressed was, alas! too well grounded. david's master's son was one of these habitual pleasure-seekers, and had long tried to persuade him to join him. he had also become acquainted with maggie, through meeting her out with the children to whom she was nursemaid, and often fell in with her on the sundays she spent in the town. in vain had he tried to induce her to join the steamer trip, till one day he said-"'if david went, you could not scruple about going under his care.' "'oh, i'm safe enough not to go at that rate,' was her reply. "but she was mistaken. david had been persuaded to put his conscience to sleep by the resolution that it should only be _for once_, just to see for himself how it worked really, for good or evil. he was more than half inclined to retract his consent, when he learnt that his sister was to be of the party, but the tempter having got his victims into the net, did not let them off. "david and maggie found a church near the river, and went to morning service. their evil adviser accompanied them on condition that the afternoon should be spent in the woods. "it was not difficult to get separated in the many paths, and when the steamer's warning bell was heard, amid the hurried rush onboard, david did not discover till too late that, amongst several missing, were maggie, and also his master's son. no entreaty could induce the captain to put back. "some fresh passengers had come on board, showing views and engravings, and david, glad to divert his attention from self-reproach, amused his mind with looking through their collection, for he now repented bitterly that he had ever come--still more that he had brought his sister, and then allowed her to slip out of his charge. one of the new comers was especially friendly, explaining the views to 'cheer up his spirits.' "when within ten minutes of landing, a boat came alongside with two or three police in plain clothes, and soon arrested, as well-known pickpockets, two of the fresh passengers, whilst all were advised to see what they had lost. much of the booty was found on the prisoners, but not all, which led to a general search of the passengers. on my poor son, in his coat-pocket, was discovered the rest of the missing plunder, which had doubtless been slipped in by his friendly entertainer when he saw the police on board. david's protestations of innocence were all unavailing. the contents of his pockets were then and afterwards deemed conclusive proof of his guilt. all efforts to save him were in vain. he never breathed free air again in this life. his sentence placed him among convicts at portland, where his health broke down under grief and disgrace. the tidings of his death reached me after i had moved here, in a kind letter from the chaplain, sending this precious relic [taking a well-worn testament from his breast], with its marked verses of comfort and a few lines from my poor boy--all i have left of him." a folded sheet of paper, yellow from age and tender from frequent handling, lay between the leaves of the little book. the old man handed both to his guest. in the touching farewell to his father were the words, "you and mother know i've suffered innocently, and it's now nearly over, and i shall soon be free and with jesus, whose precious blood has cleansed me from all sin. but, dear father, never cease to _warn_ the young of the fearful _cost of a broken sabbath_." the aged man wiped away some falling tears. "i shall see my boy soon," he continued. "i've tried to keep his injunction, and, by tract given or word spoken, not to let a sabbath go by without some warning. his mother scarcely held up her head after his trial, and did not survive her first-born many weeks, and i was left alone with our youngest--my mary. that broken sabbath had lost maggie her place and character. the doors were locked against her that night, and no explanation would be accepted next day. she wrote us word she'd got another situation at a distance through a friend. we never saw her more in the old house, and lost all traces of her. our other boy, ned, came to us soon after his brother's trial, and, asking our consent and forgiveness for going away, said he could not hold up his head in the village, and must go to sea. we let him go, hoping time and change of scene would heal the wound, and he'd come back to us to a fresh home, for i felt like himself, that i could not stay on in the factory, and resigned my post and came here, hoping our davie might soon be free to join us also; but the lord set him free to go to a better mansion in the skies. "four years after we came here, i had a letter from a neighbour who lived hard by in the old place. what mary had often secretly feared, came to pass. maggie had come back, to find no home left; but the widow over the way had seen in the dusk a woman go and return, repulsed from the old door, and sit down to weep by the road-side. she brought the wanderer to her own fireside. i fetched her away, and we nursed the poor, worn, wasted one tenderly, but she had only come home with the prodigal's cry, to die--'father, i have sinned against heaven, and before thee.' "that broken sabbath was her first step to ruin, but the blessed lord, in his rich mercy, and by the holy spirit's gracious leadings, led her to the fountain which makes crimson sins white as snow, and she is gone before me too. "the doctor--a good, kind man--shook his head, and bade me keep my mary in the fresh air, and give her plenty of new milk. he feared she had taken the seeds of disease in that long nursing, and so it proved; but, with the hopefulness of consumption, she did not believe she was going to leave me desolate, and i deceived myself, and hoped against hope, as i looked on the sweet face and lovely bloom as she lay on this bench, enjoying the sight and breath of the flowers. "by my carving, which went to a london house, we were kept from want, and ned sent us home, with sailor generosity, supplies of money. "'if he'd only come himself,' said my mary, 'it would be better than all the gold.' "'write and tell him so,' i said; and so we both did, and i told him of the fading away of his favourite sister, hoping it would draw him back over the sea, if anything would; but the brother and sister were not to meet here again. my mary left me one early morn, as the sun's first streaks were gilding the sky. no answer came from my sailor son, but the good pastor who had ministered to us in our hours of sore need, came one day, and gently told me, as i sat alone, that his ship had gone down in one of the wild atlantic storms. my boy is now safe in heaven, where there is no more sea." the aged man ceased. his eye was on the sunset cloud, but his heart was in the spirit land. his guest, rising up to depart, took tenderly the wrinkled hand, and said, "the ransomed of the lord shall return and come to zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." then he hastened homewards, his own heart full with this touching record of _the cost of a broken sabbath_.--_from a tract, published by s. w. partridge and co._ a soft pillow. if the pillow be too hard, it is very unlikely that the sleep should be sound. yet this mainly depends upon circumstances. if the conscience is easy, the pillow will be comfortable, even though a block of stone. jacob slept sweetly at bethel, when the lord appeared to him and told him that he was his god. if, on the other hand, there is guilt on the conscience, though the head is laid on the softest down, the pillow will not be altogether easy. receiving the truth. mrs. le pla was a french lady, who came over to england in the younger part of her life, with much of the vivacity for which the french nation has been remarkable. she was particularly under the eye of a grave, pharisaic lady, by whom she was persuaded to go to church, but the dull manner in which the clergyman performed his office disgusted her so much, that she withheld her attention, and fell asleep. at this, her english friend was exceedingly angry, and reproved her sharply. on another lord's day her friend took her to hear dr. f----, but his excessive action provoked her to such a degree that she burst into a loud laugh, and she was desired to walk out of the place of worship, where she had certainly shown too little regard for the divine being and his worshippers. on returning home, she was very properly and severely remonstrated with, at which she was much hurt. she replied, in broken english, "what can i do, madam? i go to church to please you, and there i fall asleep. i go to meeting, and there i laugh; and to tell you the truth, i begin to think my own religion is not the right religion, for that teaches me to worship images, and god says, 'thou shalt _not_ make any graven image.' if, therefore, madam, i go to any place of worship, it shall be to hear a mr. whitefield, for i have heard great things of him." "well," said her english friend, "we will inquire where he preaches." the good man was then dead. the ladies therefore went to the tabernacle, moorfields. mr. t. knight was the preacher, and the native of france, enraptured, cried out-"this is the good and right doctrine! here i will attend." "yes," said the prudent, self-righteous lady, "it is my opinion that they believe in predestination here, and you cannot think it right that god made any of his creatures to be damned?" "oh, no," said mrs. le pla; "but i will certainly inquire for myself." the next opportunity was eagerly embraced, and the zealous inquirer, seating herself by a good old woman of the congregation, whispered-"pray, madam, do they believe in predestination here?" "why, predestination," said she, "how can they avoid believing it? the bible is full of it." the querist was thunderstruck. she hastened home. "do they believe in predestination there?" "an old lady told me they did," was the reply. "but," said the french lady, "i am determined to ask the minister myself." not long after, she had an interview with mr. knight. "pray, sir," said she, "will you allow me to ask you a few questions?" "by all means," said the good man. "then you must know," said mrs. le pla, "i was brought up a roman catholic, and i think that is not the right religion, because they worship images, and i come to hear you with pleasure, sir. but my friends tell me you believe in predestination, and a good old lady, one of your congregation, confirms it. i have therefore taken the liberty to ask yourself about it." mr. knight said to her, "do not believe what every old woman says to you. do you believe you are a sinner?" "oh, yes, sir!" "do you feel the want of jesus christ?" "oh, yes, sir." "then," said mr. knight, "continue to hear the word of god, and search the scriptures to see whether i preach the truth or not." she took his advice, and some little time after, he preached on the subject of predestination, and desired his hearers to compare what he had to say with their bibles. the french lady did so, and was quite overcome with conviction of the truth. the question now was not with her, whether predestination was a truth of god or not, but whether she was one of the happy number appointed to salvation. she afterwards became established in the truth, was joined to mr. brewer's church, died in the lord some years since, and was interred in the adjoining burying-ground. an evening at the west end. on monday evening, april 23rd, 1888, we were present at the twenty-second annual meeting of gower street chapel sunday school, and, although the weather was most unfavourable, the attendance was good, which must have been very encouraging to mr. cooper, the superintendent, and the teachers. the meeting was presided over by the senior deacon, mr. link. the proceedings were opened by singing, and the chairman read the fourth chapter of malachi, after which mr. gray engaged in prayer. mr. link, in the course of a few weighty remarks, said that they were gathered to thank the lord for his goodness. he felt that the children were surrounded with many temptations to ensnare them. he spoke of the shortness of time, and the solemnity of the day of judgment, and said that he often meditated upon these things, and thought about the lord's servants and people, whom he had loved because they were the lord's, and whom he hoped to meet again when he had done with time things. the report for the past year was then read by mr. hale, the secretary, from which it appears that there are 222 scholars on the books, which is a slight decrease during the year. the library numbers about 1,030 books. the report of the sick and benevolent society was also read. mr. boorne, of greenwich, in addressing the teachers, referred to the works, word, and worship of god. he said that the grass, moss, plants, trees, flowers, and fruits showed the sovereignty of god. then there were the various animals for the use and food of mankind, and the internal treasures--metals, oxides, salts, &c. god's wise provision of the sea for cleansing and purifying the earth--all declared the sovereignty, wisdom, power, and goodness of god. "great god, with wonder and with praise, on all thy works i look; but still thy wisdom, power, and grace shine brightest in thy book." he then spoke of the book of _revelation_, the bible, and the need that the scholars should be taught the value of it, and what it has cost to procure it to us--what a privilege it is to be able to read it, and of the mercy of understanding it. he mentioned an instance of a bible, consisting of nine volumes, being sold for £33 6s. 8d., in the thirteenth century, which would represent about fifteen times that sum now. to-day a bible might be bought for a few pence. he referred to the rigid laws of the time of henry v., to prevent any from reading the bible in the mother tongue; yet still the book lives. he referred to the vulgar idea of the "three r's" in education, and said that there were three r's which he wished them to oppose in their teaching, namely, _romanism_, _rationalism_, and _ritualism_. how many worshipped something short of god in the setting up of candles, crucifixes, music, and other things. we must "worship in spirit and in truth." he concluded by exhorting them not to grow weary in well-doing, for their labour would not be in vain in the lord. mr. hazlerigg, of leicester, said he had the difficult task of speaking to the children, and he wished to put before them four prizes. but they were not tangible--nothing to eat, nor yet anything to see--yet all, he thought, might have them, and he recommended them all to aim at getting them. the first thing he wished them to prize was, their sunday school. he said it should be the endeavour of all to keep up the honour of the school, and, when any were tempted to do wrong, their first thought should be, "what would they say at the sunday school?" when he was formerly in the army, they had what was termed "_esprit de corps_," _i.e._, a pride in keeping up the character of the regiment. he hoped none of his audience would ever buy sweets on sunday, or it might be said, that "it is one of the gower street sunday school children." the second prize was, their bibles. if they prized and were led by their bibles, they would be good children. it would make them submit to all lawful authority. how different it would be if the command, "thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," was better learnt and practised than it is! in the third place, he wished them to prize their chapel. he spoke of the blessing attending the hearing of the word of god. he said that some children go to school, and then slip off without going to chapel. he hoped none of those before him ever did that. fourthly, he hoped they would prize their superintendent and their teachers. what a labour of love and self-denial was theirs! they liked the work, and their desire was, the glory of god in the children's good--in the salvation of their souls, and their prosperity--and they sought for this reward--the good of their scholars. the "touchable" prizes for the past year were then distributed by mr. hazlerigg, and after mr. link had concluded with prayer, the children each received a bun and orange, the gift of mr. prior, one of their teachers. for the sake of brevity, a vote of thanks was proposed to the latter, associated with the names of the visiting ministers and the president, which was heartily responded to. mr. hazlerigg replied for all in a few witty words, which brought the evening to a genial and timely close. ragged tom. tom was a poor, ragged boy. his home was an old house in a narrow court. a stool, a deal table, an old bed in one corner, and a bag of shavings in another, were all the goods contained in the room where tom, with his father and mother, lived. tom's hands and face were generally very dirty; his hair matted; his clothes were in rags, and his feet were without shoes. he often had nothing to eat, and no fire to warm him, however cold the day. many were the blows and kicks the poor boy received from the rude men and lads who lived in the court. it was well for him that a ragged school was established in the neighbourhood, and he was invited to go. he then learned that he had three enemies of which he had not hitherto thought much. these were dirt, ignorance, and sin. he speedily vanquished the first at a pump. the second he overcame by patient effort at the school. then tom became a respectable, happy, and useful young man. best of all, he sought mercy and help from god, and lived to prove that he had god's smile and blessing. our bible class. the good shepherd gathering his sheep. (john x. 16.) in the city of jerusalem, at the feast of tabernacles, a few months before his death, jesus set forth this beautiful parable of the good shepherd. he had given sight to a man who from his birth had been blind. the pharisees, as usual, had shown their hatred of him, and he then described himself as the true leader, beloved and honoured of all believing, obedient souls, declaring that his enemies did not believe him, because they were not his sheep. "my sheep hear my voice; i know them, they follow me, and i lay down my life for them." "and other sheep i have that are not of _this_ [israelite or jewish] fold; them also i must bring; and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd" (john x. 16). the jews who listened to those gracious words were much divided in their opinions about them, some declaring that jesus was mad; others, appealing to the great miracle he had wrought in opening the eyes of the blind; and three months later, at another feast (see ver. 22), their controversy was renewed, and jesus concluded his striking allegory by saying, "i and my father are one, and no power shall ever be able to snatch my people from my hand or from his" (ver. 29, 30). returning to our text, we find jesus declaring that all his people are his before they know or love him. up to that time the jewish church had been the only earthly fold of believers in the living god, and all the gentiles who were taught by the holy spirit were led to unite with the house of israel or the people of judah. god was israel's shepherd (psa. lxxx. 1). he led his people "like a flock by the hand of moses and aaron" (psa. lxxvii. 20). they were regarded as "the sheep of his pasture" (psa. c.), and the world around them were strangers and foreigners, "aliens from the commonwealth of israel, and strangers to the covenant of promise." but among these outcasts jesus had many sheep. he gathered some in olden times. he came to lay down his life for a great multitude, to be drawn to himself from every kindred, and tribe, and nation, and tongue. he spoke of them as being already his own--"other sheep i have, and them also i must bring," or lead. "the son of man came to seek and to save that which was lost." "all we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way"; and he who paid the ransom price of his wandering flock, goes after every one for whom he shed his blood. "he finds them wandering far from god, and brings them to his chosen fold." "as many as are led by his spirit"--the spirit of god--"they are the children of god," the sheep of the lord jesus christ. he brings them to feel that they are lost--that they are far off by wicked works--that they are guilty, and weak, and helpless--and thus they are drawn to the good shepherd, who can and will deliver them from all evil, and fill them with all good. and having brought near, he leads in green pastures, beside still waters; and even when the way is less pleasant, he always "leads in the way of righteousness, in the midst of the paths of judgment" (prov. viii. 20). "they shall hear my voice," he said, and it is by his voice--his word spoken to the heart--that he ever leads his people. three thousand heard it on the day of pentecost, and were pricked in their heart. wounded, and imploring forgiving, healing grace, they heard again with gladness, and followed their lord in baptism (acts ii. 37-41). lydia's heart was opened to receive the glad tidings, and she followed the good shepherd; and jesus leads his disciples all the way home. "in all thy ways," the wise man says, "acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths" (prov. iii. 6). "these are they that follow the lamb whithersoever he goeth" (rev. xiv.). happy are they who know the sound of that heavenly voice! have _we_ heard it? it may not be _recognized_ at first, as samuel heard, but did not know _who_ called him, until his name had been again and again repeated, and eli had "perceived that the lord had called the child." but as surely as he speaks, we shall, sooner or later, _know_ his voice, and long and love to hear it. then jesus promises that all his people, of all nations and all ages of time, shall become one flock--one in jesus; one in heart, and mind, and judgment--and the whole redeemed and gathered flock shall at last dwell in one fold--the fold of heavenly, eternal life and glory. "from sorrow, care, and pain, and sin they shall be free, and perfect love and friendship reign through all eternity." "and there shall be one shepherd." "jesus only" shall be seen, acknowledged, and followed. now he is loved and honoured as the great chief shepherd of the sheep, and the ministers of the gospel are pastors, or shepherds, serving under him. christ brings them forth, gives them their work, and blesses their careful labours. but he removes them one by one. he alone abides for evermore. and in the fold above, the pastors appear no more as shepherds, but as sheep, the redeemed and saved people of the lord. yet, wonderful to relate, the one divine shepherd is called "the lamb" (rev. vii. 9-17)--"the lamb of god," all-seeing and almighty, yet the lamb that once was slain. "his life and blood the shepherd paid, a ransom for the flock." and this wonderful work is to be remembered while the years of eternity roll, therefore it is "the lamb in the midst of the throne that shall feed them, and lead them to fountains of living waters; and god shall wipe away tears from all eyes." shall we be among them? let us rather ask, are we asking him to be our leader now? are we "hungering and thirsting after righteousness" now? and are we mourning over sin, and after him? if so, our leader in this world will be our leader still. "he that hath fed will feed; he that hath blessed will bless; he that hath led will lead; can he do less?" and we shall hunger and thirst no more in that blessed fold, where "in his presence there is fulness of joy, and at his right hand are pleasures for evermore." this is the life he gives his ransomed ones. may it be ours. our next subject will be, _elisha and the shunammite_ (2 kings iv. 8-37; viii. 1-6). yours affectionately, h. s. l. bible subjects for each sunday in june. june 3. commit to memory prov. x. 27, june 10. commit to memory prov. x. 28. june 17. commit to memory prov. x. 29. june 24. commit to memory prov. x. 30. a sanctified heart is better than a silvered tongue. prize essay. what marks do the lambs of jesus christ bear? true christians may be known by their walk and conversation. they are anointed ones, and they walk in the narrow way, following in christ's footsteps. they look unto jesus, who is "the author and finisher of their faith." they are a despised or persecuted people, as true christians have been in all ages. the lambs of christ have always a great deal of trouble, and are tried and tempted in many ways, but it is for a token of their eternal salvation, if god sanctifies the trouble. if their affliction drives them to god, it is a sanctified affliction, and is for their souls' good. an infallible mark of a regenerated character is, when he begins to hate evil, and where there is the spirit's work, there is the panting after god. a child of god looks within, and feels that there is no putting away sin but by the blood of jesus christ, and no pardon for poor sinners but by his sacrifice. we cannot make ourselves clean, or walk in the right way in our own strength, but god will help us if we ask him in the right way. the lambs of jesus christ are "poor in spirit" and "pure in heart." they "hunger and thirst after righteousness." although they are often "persecuted for righteousness' sake," yet christ's righteousness is imputed to them, because he has atoned for their sins. in speaking of truly good men, mr. gadsby said- "life, light, and holiness divine from jesus they by faith receive; the spirit makes his graces shine, and gives them power in christ to live." jane bell (aged 14 years). _sydney house, sleaford, lincolnshire._ [very creditable essays have been received from eleanor saunders, lilly rush, a. pease, w. e. cray, and laura creasey. we hope our young friends will follow up the various subjects, as the study of them may do them good.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "the dairyman's daughter." the subject for august will be, "contrast the lesson taught by the conduct of solomon and of rehoboam, at the commencement of their reign"; and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the life of george whitfield." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of july.] answer to bible enigma. (_page 106._) "_lamb of god._"--john i. 29. "_lord of all._"--acts x. 36. l emue l . proverbs xxxi. 1. a cch o . judges i. 31. m ibza r . 1 chronicles i. 53. b ilda d . job ii. 11. o n o . 1 chronicles viii. 12. f ar of f . ephesians ii. 13. g abbath a . john xix. 13. o phe l . 2 chronicles xxvii. 3. d ia l . 2 kings xx. 11. clara ellis (aged 14 years). many wish to be like christ in _bliss_ who seek not to be like him by _grace_. interesting items. dairying by a duchess.--the duchess of hamilton has opened a shop in ipswich for the sale of butter, and is crowded with orders, at 1s. 7d. per pound. telegraphing from a moving train has now become a practical success in america, and the messages have been successfully transmitted by induction through twenty feet of air. a powerful pneumatic gun.--a pneumatic gun, which is to throw a shell containing six hundred pounds of dynamite four miles, is being constructed for italy in philadelphia. the queen has presented to st. george's chapel, windsor castle, a very handsome silver gilt altar cross, in commemoration of her jubilee. the royal gift, which has, it is said, cost about £300, was displayed upon the table next the reredos for the first time on april 1st. the brighton hotel, on coney island, has been successfully moved one hundred and twenty feet further inland, in order to escape the encroachments of the sea. the building was raised in one mass and rested on trucks made to run on rails. six locomotives were then attached to the cars, and dragged the hotel for the distance named. it is intended to move it still further. a spanish protestant clergyman, senor vila, has been condemned to imprisonment for two years four months and one day, and to a fine of two hundred and fifty francs and the costs, by the criminal court at malaga, for having discussed and condemned the dogmas of the roman catholic church in a pamphlet which he published in answer to the attacks of a catholic priest from paris, who came to malaga, and published a pamphlet against the protestant religion. the oldest and youngest.--the oldest cabinet minister is viscount cranbrook, lord president of the council, aged seventy-three; the youngest is mr. balfour, chief secretary for ireland, aged thirty-nine. the oldest member of the privy council is viscount eversley, aged ninety-three, who is also the oldest peer of the realm; the youngest member is the duke of portland, aged thirty. the youngest duke is h.r.h. the duke of albany, aged three. the right hon. c. p. villiers (south wolverhampton), aged eighty-six, is the oldest member of the house of commons; and the youngest is lord h. cavendish-bentinck, aged twenty-four. mr. justice manisty, aged seventy-eight, is the oldest english judge; and mr. justice charles, aged forty-nine, is the youngest. the oldest bishop is dr. durnford, of chichester, aged eighty-five; and the youngest is dr. john wordsworth, of salisbury, aged forty-four. a military heroine.--a handsome marble memorial has been erected in the cemetery at southsea in honour of the late mrs. fox, whose death was, by special order of the duke of cambridge, signalized by a military funeral. the inscription on the memorial is as follows:--"sacred to the memory of mrs. george fox, wife of quartermaster george fox, 2nd connaught rangers (94th regiment), who died at cambridge barracks, portsmouth, on january 22nd, 1888, from the effects of wounds received in the action of bronker's sprint, transvaal. for her heroic and unselfish conduct on that occasion in nursing the wounded--desperately wounded though she was herself--she was decorated by her majesty with the order of the royal cross. this monument is erected to her memory as a token of affection and esteem by the officers (past and present), non-commissioned officers, and men of the 2nd connaught rangers. 'well done, thou good and faithful servant' (matt. xxv. 21)." the inscription is surmounted by the regimental crest--a crown, an elephant, the word "seringapatam"--and "2nd battalion the connaught rangers." a return, just prepared at the war office, of the religious profession of non-commissioned officers and men of the british european troops and colonial corps (exclusive of indian troops), shows that, at the beginning of the present year, there were 158,414 protestants of various denominations on the roll books, of whom 132,537 belonged to the church of england, 15,072 were presbyterians, 9,437 wesleyans, and 1,369 belonged to one or other of the smaller protestant bodies. the total number of roman catholics was 40,775; and there were 274 who were either mahometans, hindoos, or jews; while the religion of 1,044 was not reported. the proportion of church of england soldiers per thousand (not reckoning the colonial corps) was 668; of roman catholics, 205; of presbyterians, 76; of wesleyans, 46; of men of the smaller protestant denominations, 5; there being thus in all 795 protestants per 1,000, to 205 roman catholics. the inquiry has not been so complete in the line cavalry as in other branches of the service, there being 675 men out of 17,354 whose religious profession has not been reported; whilst amongst the 129,599 men of the line infantry, only 272 were not reported. watch glasses.--of watch glasses, 50,000 gross, or 7,200,000, are sold annually in the united states. most of these are imported from england. a memorial window is to be placed in the bristol royal infirmary to commemorate the heroic deed of a young surgeon, william conner, medical officer, who lost his life in a noble and daring effort to save a poor patient who had undergone the operation of tracheotomy while suffering from diphtheria. a false membrane having formed in the throat, and the patient being in imminent danger of his life, young conner applied his lips to the throat tube, and succeeded in removing the obstruction. the window is in three panels, representing incidents from the parable of the good samaritan, and healing the sick, and it will be inscribed, "to the glory of god, and in affectionate remembrance of william conner, who was born may 7th, 1851, and died july 4th, 1887." a great log raft.--not satisfied with the former experiment and catastrophe, the nova scotians are putting together another huge log raft, to be floated to new york in july or august of this year. this raft will be 650 feet long, and will have six masts, and a great spread of sail. confidence seems to be placed in the usual fine weather of july and august; but storms are by no means unknown over the course that the raft will traverse; and should this huge area of floating timber encounter a storm, the chains which will hold the logs together will snap like packing-cord, and leave the crew to shift for their lives in their boats, or by endeavouring to cling to their logs. these experiments, like attempts to swim the rapids of niagara, should be prevented by some law or regulations, since the common sense of those concerned is conspicuous by its absence. it is quite possible that the raft may be favoured by fine weather, and reach its destination successfully; but it is true, nevertheless, that the enterprise is hare-brained, and undertaken at great risk of life and property. great storm at madagascar.--particulars have been received, _viá_ the cape of good hope, of a terrific hurricane which raged at tamatave on february 22nd, which will long be remembered by the inhabitants as one of the most disastrous storms that have visited the island during this century. eleven vessels at anchor in the harbour were totally wrecked. some of them foundered at their anchors, others parted their cables, and were driven on the reefs. the damage done to the town was very great. not a house escaped more or less destruction, numbers of them being utterly swept away. the british consulate, a large new building, only erected some months ago by the british government, was almost totally destroyed. large fragments of this building were carried by the wind for hundreds of yards, and for acres around the ground presented an extraordinary and melancholy spectacle, being strewn with doors, windows, beams, and other pieces of twisted wood and iron, besides clothes and furniture. the consul's wife, mrs. haggard (the consul himself was at mauritius), and those in the consulate had a narrow escape with their lives. most of the trees were blown down, and all were smashed to pieces. several lives were lost on shore in addition to those drowned, but their numbers were few in comparison to the almost incredible damage done in so short a time, the hurricane only lasting seven hours. a remarkable circumstance in connection with the hurricane is, that it was not felt forty miles to the northward of tamatave, nor its full strength sixty miles south. the chinese almanack.--the great value which the chinese attach to their almanack is shown in many ways. recently the chinese residents at lhassa, in thibet, implored the emperor to cause arrangements to be made which would enable them to receive their copies of the almanack at the earliest possible date in each year. a writer in a recent issue of the _chinese recorder_ says that the most important book to the chinese is the almanack. its space is far too important to be occupied with the matter which fills western almanacks. it contains astronomical information, which is useful; but its great mission is to give full and accurate information for selecting lucky places for performing all the acts, great and small, of every-day life. "and as every act of life, however trivial, depends for its success on the time in which, and the direction (_i.e._, the point of the compass) towards which it is done, it is of the utmost importance that every one should have correct information available at all times, to enable him to so order his life as to avoid bad luck and calamity, and secure good luck and prosperity. consequently, the almanack is perhaps the most universally circulated book in china." the writer speaks of it as a terrible yoke of bondage. it is issued by the government, and the sale of all almanacks but the authorized one is prohibited. quite recently the new chinese minister to germany refused to sail for his post on a day which the almanack declared to be unlucky, and the departure of the german mail steamer was consequently deferred at the request of the german minister to pekin.--[what a pity but these poor deluded creatures were blessed with bible truth and jesus' grace!--ed.] [illustration: "a troop of dragoons came up at full gallop." (_see page 146._)] the covenanter's escape and death. on the 16th of april, 1685, peden made a narrow escape. being then at the house of john nisbet, of hardhill, a little before nine o'clock in the morning, a troop of dragoons were observed by the servants, who were working in the fields, coming up to the house at full gallop, upon which the servants ran to conceal themselves. peden, and those who were with him in the house, had fled for shelter to a moss nearly two miles distant from the place where the servants were working. the way to this moss was by a very steep ground, and at the edge of the moss there was a morass about seven or eight yards broad, and altogether the place was well adapted for concealment, as well as for protection from military on horseback. here, however, peden and his companions were discovered. james, the son of john nisbet, a young man about sixteen years of age, had been with the servants in the field when the troop of dragoons came up, and in his flight, being chased by some of the party, made his way accidentally to where peden and about twenty more were lurking, which occasioned their being discovered. the whole party of dragoons were quickly informed of the prize within their reach, and about three hours after, they were joined by another party who aided them in the pursuit. peden and his friends, observing the enemy dismounting their horses to take the moss on their feet, for the purpose of securing them, after some firing on both sides without effect, drew off, and kept in the midst of the moss. when the dragoons, on seeing this, mounted their horses again, and pursued by the side of the moss, the covenanters always kept themselves on such ground as the horses could not approach. they were pursued during the whole of that day, and ran about thirty miles without receiving any refreshment but moss-water till night, when they got a little milk. peden then left his friends, and went away by himself. during this year, and especially the first part of it, great numbers of the persecuted witnesses were murdered in the fields. peden, therefore, to escape the hands of the military, after this wandered from one lurking-place to another; and from his minute acquaintance with all the tracts and haunts of the desert, of which he may be said for years to have been an inhabitant, he succeeded in eluding the enemy. in such circumstances, we need not wonder that he was sometimes weary of life, and envied his fellow-sufferers who had gone to death before him, and were eternally at rest. at length, peden's bodily infirmities increasing so much as to render him unable to travel, being almost worn out with fatigue, and suffering from the many hardships he had undergone, he arrived at his native parish of sorn. he came to his brother's house, in the neighbourhood of which he caused a cave to be dug, with a willow bush covering its mouth. his persecutors getting information where he was, searched every part of the house on many occasions. at last, one day, early in the morning, leaving the cave, he came to the door of the house. his brother's wife warned him of his danger, advising him to return to his place of concealment. he told her it was needless to do that, since it was discovered. "but," said he, "there is no matter, for within forty-eight hours i will be beyond the reach of all the devil's temptations, and his instruments in hell and on earth, and they shall trouble me no more." he had not been in the house above three hours when a party of soldiers visited the cave, and not finding him there, they searched first the barn, and next the house, stabbing the beds, but they did not enter the place where he lay. peden died on the 28th of january, 1686, being upwards of sixty years of age, and was privately buried in the church of auchinleck, in the aisle of david boswell, esq., of auchinleck. but his ashes were not allowed to repose in peace. though he had never been condemned by any jury, yet the enemy, being informed of his death and burial, sent a troop of dragoons, who pulled his corpse out of the grave after it had lain about six weeks, and having first broken the chest, exposed his remains to contempt, and then carried them to the gallows foot at cumnock, two miles distant, and there buried them. the design of the soldiers in lifting the body was to hang it in chains upon the gallows at cumnock, but this they were prevented from doing. the countess of dumfries and the lady affleck, shocked at this barbarity, earnestly interceded that the body might be again buried; and when the savage commander of the dragoons, determined to have it hung in chains, proved unrelenting, they applied to the earl of dumfries, a privy councillor, then at home, who, yielding to their request, went to the gibbet and told murray that it was erected for malefactors and murderers, and not for such men as mr. peden. the corpse was accordingly reinterred at the foot of the gibbet, now within the wall of the common burial-ground of cumnock parish, and a suitable memorial erected over the remains, on which was inscribed an appropriate epitaph. a day's work. the amount of work some people get through is simply enormous. few people are harder worked than a london physician in active practice. we know a doctor who seldom gets more than four hours' sleep out of the twenty-four. he says that it is not that he couldn't do with more, but it is as much as he can get. many busy men are constantly at work of some kind or the other from eight in the morning till past twelve at night. some, of course, break down, but others can do this year after year, apparently without any detriment to their health. instances are known of professional men who have not slept for five days together, and who have not been in bed for three weeks at a time. these sound almost like travellers' tales, but they are true, although, of course, they are exceptional cases. it is astonishing what interest and energy will do in enabling a man to dispense with rest. it has been said that the twenty-four hours might be advantageously divided into three equal parts--eight hours for sleep, eight for meals, exercise, recreation, &c., and eight for mental work. few men really require more than eight hours' sleep, but the majority of us have to do considerably more than eight hours' work in the day. it is not so much that a man wishes for the work, as that it is forced upon him. he, perhaps, is the only person who can perform a certain duty, and when, as is often the case, it is a question of life and death, it is almost impossible to refuse. many people can never force themselves to do more than a certain amount of mental work; they get nervous and headachy, and then it is all over with them. forced work, as a rule, tells on a man much more rapidly than purely voluntary work, for in the former case it is usually associated with anxiety. real overwork gives rise to loss of memory, a general sense of fatigue, and particularly of discomfort about the head, poorness of appetite, lowness of spirits, and other similar symptoms. it is worry that injures more than real work. some people are so happily constituted that they never worry much about anything, whilst others are in a fever of anxiety on every trivial occasion.--_the family physician._ juvenile gems. (_concluded from page 130._) ann jane. my dear ann jane was an affectionate child, but naturally timid, and frequently expressed a hope that she should not be taken ill. yet she too was destined to be borne far, far away. on november 12th, 1851, it pleased god to indicate his intentions by placing upon her his afflicting hand. but he who "mingles mercy with his might," set his bow in the cloud, answered in the secret place of thunder, and revealed his love in the bosom of the storm. ann jane gave pleasing proofs of a work of grace in her soul, the progress of which was visible to by-standers and friends. a short time after the attack, she expressed a wish to die; and upon being asked why, she answered, "because i believe i shall go to heaven. i believe the dear lord has pardoned my sins." she would often say, "pray for me, my dear mother, and i will pray for you, and myself too"; and would then address herself to god in a sweet, devout manner. observing me to be in great trouble, she thus spoke to me--"do pray the dear lord to take me to himself." i answered, "how can i do so, seeing i cannot give you up?" she replied, "oh, mother, put your trust in the lord. he will provide. do ask him to take me out of this world. oh, mother, there is nothing here worth living for"; and engaging sweetly in prayer, uttered, with many other sentences, the following--"pardon all our sins, dear and precious lord--past sins, present sins, and sins to come. wash us in thy precious blood, for thou knowest how sinful we are, and thou rememberest we are but dust. oh, make us love thee more! thy love is an everlasting love. take us, dear lord, take us to thyself, and then we shall love and serve thee better." the second lord's day of her affliction, she inquired what day it was. i informed her, and asked, "would you not like to spend a sabbath in heaven?" "oh, yes, mother!" was the rejoinder. "that would be a sabbath of sabbaths." with pleasure i remember some particular times when my precious child seemed almost overpowered by the sweetness and glories of immanuel, who is "god with us," not only in our nature, but in our condition. at these times, with uplifted hands, she would exclaim, "oh, my precious jesus! oh, my precious christ!" one day she said, "mother, my pains are very great. can you do anything to give me relief?" what an appeal to maternal tenderness! what a moment of agonizing weakness! i reminded her of the divine sufficiency, and she poured out a copious argumentative prayer, not like the prayer of a child, pleading the lord's own word, and the merits of christ, as the only ground of her expectation. "i know," she would say, "i am not worthy. i am a guilty sinner. oh, wash me in thy precious blood! give me patience to endure my pains, and to wait all thy will; and take me to be where thou art, for ever and ever. amen." seeing me weep very much, on one occasion, she exclaimed, "my precious mother, i do love you! why do you grieve about me? i am not afraid to die. i want to go to my precious lord, and be with him for ever." i said, "my dear child, why do you believe you shall go to heaven? do you think you have _merited_ it?" "oh, no, mother," was her immediate reply. "i am a guilty sinner. it is through the lord jesus, and for his sake, that i hope to be saved. do you not think, dear mother, he will pardon me?" i said, "yes, if you feel your need of him." she answered, "i believe he has pardoned me." after the prayer previously mentioned, and partly recorded, she said, "how good the lord is to me! oh, my precious jesus," &c. "oh, mother," she said, in reply to a question, "i know i love the lord. yes, i do; better than everything else in the world." at another time she cried out, in a loud impressive tone, "oh, mother, what is there in this world worth living for? it is all stuff and vanity--it is, mother. oh, i do not want to live here! pray the dear lord to take me to himself. oh, how blessed to be with my precious jesus for ever!" when informed of the death and burial of her brother, she appeared excited, but at last said, "dear boy! i hope i shall soon be with him, and then we shall meet to part no more." she then asked me to pray again that god would take her. how could i? "nature has soft but powerful bands," and the ligaments were not yet severed. she seemed my earthly all. could i surrender her to the arms of the destroyer? could i look up and say, "thy will be done"? what grace we need to glorify god in the fires! nine days after her illness she raised herself up in her bed, and, looking at her departing sister, said, "there is my dying sister. where is she going? where? why, to the realms of bliss? and who of us next? why, myself, i believe, mother. but i am not afraid of death," &c. at another time she said, "do read to me, dear mother"; and upon my asking her _where_, she replied, "read about the sufferings of christ" i did so, and she afterwards engaged in prayer. at another time the nurse heard her, during the night, earnestly praying for both her parents and herself. once she requested me to read the seventeenth chapter of john, remarking at the time, "that is sweet reading." after listening for a time she fell into a short sleep, and i laid the book down. when she awoke she exclaimed, "won't you read to me, my dear mother?" i said, "you dropped off into a sleep, my dear." she then tried to read herself, but failing, returned the book, immediately adding, "give it me again and let me kiss it, for i love it very much." at different times she expressed earnest desires to go to her brother and sister, and for her father and mother and sister to go also; and would try to sing a part of that sabbath school hymn, chorusing--"oh, that will be joyful," &c. two days before she died she exclaimed, with sweet simplicity, "suffer the little children to come unto me"; and shortly after, "precious bible! what a treasure," &c. the night on which she died, a friend coming in, she seemed pleased, remarking that i could then take some rest. shortly after this her voice began to fail. she called for "hephzibah," looked at me wishfully, exclaimed, "mother," and talked earnestly for some time; but her voice was "thick in death," and language failed as an interpreter of "the thoughts and intents of the heart." in vain she laboured to make me comprehend her ideas. the bridge had been broken down; the fortress was dismantled. only a word or two was distinct enough to be understood, but from these i found her discourse was of a spiritual nature. overcome by the scene, i burst into tears, and said, "my dear child, how i wish i could understand you! it almost breaks my heart." at this she looked at me so very affectionately, and exclaimed, "heaven! heaven! heaven!" she spoke not again, but for twelve long hours "her spirit struggled with her clay," when the conflict mercifully ceased, and all was peace, and righteousness, and quietness, and assurance for ever. she exchanged worlds on december 14th, 1851, aged eleven years and three months. "may death conclude my toils and tears; may death conclude my sins and fears; may death, through jesus, be my friend; may death be life when life shall end!" thus ends the interesting memoirs of three happy children; and as reflection should follow reading, we proceed from narrative to reflections. reflections. 1. from these memoirs we learn how greatly the lord sometimes tries the righteous. in little more than a fortnight, three out of four children were borne to their long home. the father had been previously afflicted with paralysis, and was at that time unable to follow his employment, having lamed himself. 2. we learn that human affliction may consist with divine affection. lazarus sickened and died, though jesus loved him. "and what son is there whom the father chasteneth not?" 3. we have another lesson upon the inscrutable providence of god. "i beheld," says solomon, "all the works of god, that a man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun; because, though a man labour to seek it out, yet shall he not find it; yea, further, though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not find it." no man knoweth divine love or hatred by the distributions of providential good and evil. 4. but if the events of life are so complicated, and if no application, however skilfully conducted, nor any human capacity, whatever its range, can fathom the "mysteries of god," then, how unseemly is immoderate grief or unmeasured joy! how premature our decisions, and how utterly senseless all those infidel cavils against a system which the most enlightened, philosophical, and spirit-taught mind can neither understand nor deal with! 5. nevertheless, we read that "the righteous, and the wise, and their works, are in the hand of god" (eccles. ix. 1), from which we conclude that the people of god, wherever located, and however circumstanced, are protected by his power, sustained by his agency, supplied by his mercy, are under his special care, and safe in his approbation. let this suffice. we walk by faith. 6. we see here the sovereignty of god, both in his providence and grace. we read of one being taken and another left; but here three are taken, and only one left. 7. does not god, sometimes, put peculiar honour upon his professing people, however he sees fit to try them? if he takes one of a gentile city, he takes two of a christian family, and brings them to zion. 8. we observe, too, the earliness and efficacy of his work on the minds of some, so that "out of the mouths of babes and sucklings he perfects his own praise." 9. attention, however, may be called to the value of early and maternal instruction. these children were instructed for the most part by their mother, who watched over them with incessant care, keeping them separate from the masses, and attending to their education as an important duty. "there is not a grand inspiring thought, there is not a truth by wisdom taught, there is not a feeling pure or high, that may not be read in a mother's eye. "there are teachings on earth, and sky, and air; the heavens the glory of god declare; but more loud than the voice beneath, above, is the voice that speaks through a mother's love." w. p. brought to the fold. louisa ann jeeves, of pewsey, wilts, died on march 24th, 1888, aged twenty-four years. she sat under the truth until she was about twenty, when she left the place for a short time. but, when taken seriously ill, it appears that the lord laid the weight of her sins upon her, and she felt that she had slighted the means of truth, which was a trouble to her. the clergyman called, and wished to administer the sacrament to her, but she refused, and told him she dare not, for she had not felt the pardon of her sins. from this time she sank very low, and felt her sins to be a heavy burden. she now eagerly read her bible, in which she marked many portions. her bodily sufferings were very great, but she bore them without a murmur. her sins, and the state of her soul before god, seemed always uppermost. i had known her from a child, and hoped there was some good thing in her; but when she left the place of truth, i was afraid my hope was vain. i visited her often after my return to pewsey, and found her in great concern about her soul. she said she knew that nothing but an application of the blood of christ could suffice for her great sins, and this she longed to feel. she asked me to read and pray with her, which i was enabled to do, believing the lord had given her true conviction of sin. each time i called she was greatly distressed, and seemed without hope; and this went on until the last week of her life, when she begged me to stay with her altogether, and whenever we were alone she wished me to read and pray. she would cry out in agony, "oh, what shall i do if i don't get to heaven?" on the tuesday, when she had been greatly tried, this word was brought with comfort to her mind, "i will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." i said, "if the lord has given you those words, he will, in his own time, bless you with pardon and peace"; and, as she was drawing near her end, i said, "when he comes, if you are unable to speak, raise your hand." but the next day the lord was pleased to bless her soul with joy and peace. she called for her mother, and when she came, she said, her face at the time beaming with joy, "oh, mother, i am so happy! i am going home to be with jesus! he has put away all my sins by his own precious blood, and you will come, too." she would have us sing some hymns, herself joining in while able--among others, "how sweet the name of jesus sounds," and "rock of ages." when we had finished one she named another, and said, "beautiful! beautiful!" she gradually sank, but the fear of death was taken away. she was quite conscious to the last, and turned her head to look at the clock several times. the enemy of souls was not permitted to harass her in her last hours, and just before she breathed her last, she raised her arms and clapped her hands three times, evidently remembering what i had said to her. it may be truly said, she died in peace. she was a constant reader of the little gleaner. c. g. to lay the salve of our services upon the wound of our sins is as if a man who is stung by a wasp should wipe his face with a nettle. rome proposes, god disposes. "_for my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the lord._"--isaiah lv. 8. father chiniquy had been for some years lecturing on teetotalism, in addition to his usual priestly labours, and his success had been so great that he had received the title of "apostle of temperance" in canada, and the gift of a splendid medal and crucifix from the pope of rome; and his reputation as a popular influential priest was therefore well established, when he was requested to become the leader of a great movement. emigrants were constantly leaving europe and canada for the united states, and many of them became connected, on their arrival there, with protestant associations. some far-seeing bishops consequently felt that, if they could divert that tide to places of their own choosing, under the direction of their own loyal priests, a splendid triumph would be gained for popery, and in the course of time they would secretly, yet surely, rule the united states of america. some small colonies had been already formed, and the whole of the mississippi valley and the adjoining country was so fertile and rich, even in its wild state, that chiniquy's warmest hopes were kindled, as he saw that beautiful land; and, sitting down, he wrote a glowing description of it, and invited intending emigrants to come and see for themselves. the result exceeded all anticipations. in a very short time fifty families arrived at the chosen spot, and pitched their tents around his own. they soon set to work to build small, strong wooden houses under their priest's directions, then a larger one for a parsonage and school; and, as fresh emigrants were continually arriving, they soon became a flourishing, happy community, and objects of the bitter jealousy of surrounding priests. many difficulties arose. when his wooden church was just finished, it was maliciously set on fire the very night after the first services were conducted in it. a new bishop came into power, whose tyranny and greediness were unbearable, and father chiniquy appealed against him to napoleon, the french emperor, and the pope, getting him at length removed from the position he had so greatly abused. but the crowning difficulty, which was designed by god to be the crowning blessing of his servant's life, was yet to come, and thus it came to pass that the bible-loving priest forsook his false position, and "came out of babylon." when rome's new doctrine, the perfect holiness of the virgin mary, was first published in 1854, a farmer called on chiniquy to ask him whether the scriptures taught such a thing, and he honestly confessed that they did not, but rather said the opposite, and that the holy fathers had not believed or taught it either, but it was with the greatest pain that he, as a priest, said this. on another occasion, the immoral conduct of a priest caused many to ask our friend whether the word of god really forbade the ministers of christ to marry, and he replied, "i will put the gospel in your hands, that you may see for yourselves what the holy book says about these matters." he accordingly ordered a large number of new testaments, which had been printed by the sanction of one of their own archbishops, and soon they were being eagerly read and studied by his large congregation. and now the decisive hour drew near. another bishop, who had taken the oppressor's place, kindly asked and accepted chiniquy's submission to his authority. but, as that document contained the words, "according to the word and commandments of god, as we find them expressed in the gospel of christ," the jesuits found fault. the bishop demanded the withdrawal of the words, and upon his refusal to alter them, angrily said, "if it be so, sir, you are no longer a roman catholic priest." "may god almighty be for ever blessed," was the brave reply, given in a loud, determined voice. but the wrench was a terrible one, and when alone in his hotel, the full consequences of his words came forcibly before him, and he felt alone and desolate. but god, who had thus mysteriously led him into liberty, did not forsake him now. he spoke to his heart, and confirmed him in the determination he had made; and when all his sins seemed like a mountain to rise before him, jesus appeared as his perfect, all-sufficient saviour, and the troubled heart was filled with joy unspeakable, so that he could and did exclaim, "o magnify the lord with me, and let us exalt his name together!" as he hastened home to tell his dear people all that he had experienced of the wrath of man and the love of god. may we, with him, be favoured to "taste and see that the lord is good," and we also shall say, "o lord god of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee!"--_jottings on "the life and work of father chiniquy," by cousin susan._ how to select a boy. a gentleman advertised for a boy, and nearly fifty applicants presented themselves to him. out of the whole number he selected one, and dismissed the rest. "i should like to know," said a friend, "on what ground you selected that boy, who had not a single recommendation." "you are mistaken," said the gentleman; "he has a great many. he wiped his feet when he came in, and closed the door after him, showing that he was careful. he gave his seat instantly to that lame old man, showing that he was thoughtful. he took off his cap when he came in, and answered my questions promptly, showing that he was gentlemanly. he picked up the book which i had purposely laid on the floor, and replaced it upon the table; and he waited quietly for his turn, instead of pushing and crowding, showing that he was honourable and orderly. when i talked to him, i noticed that his clothes were brushed, his hair in order. when he wrote his name, i noticed that his finger-nails were clean. don't you call those things letters of recommendation? i do; and i would give more for what i can tell about a boy by using my eyes ten minutes than all the letters he can bring me." little things show character, and frequently determine a boy's whole career. it is the boy who does the kind, polite, and thoughtful acts unconsciously that wins his way to employment and success. and success does not mean wealth and fame. a man is valued according to his faithfulness and reliability, and these chiefly determine the measure of his true usefulness. it is not always those who are most conspicuous in the eyes of the world who are really the most useful. a man who takes money at a ferry gate is seen by thousands, but he only does what any one of a thousand could do equally well; while a thoughtful and conscientious writer, who may be personally known to very few, may have great influence for good. true success means the development of a character that is worthy of example--a character that is honest to every duty, faithful to every trust, and that is unselfish enough to find time for kindly acts that are not forced, but the simple expression of a warm and generous principle. true success is fidelity to every relation in life. "nothing to thank god for." "have you nothing to thank god for?" asked the mother of a little girl named helen. "no," said helen; "you and papa give me everything." "not for your pleasant home?" asked mother. "it is my papa's house; he lets me live in it." "where did the wood come from to build it?" asked mother. "from trees," answered helen, "and they growed in big forests." "who planted the big forests? who gave rain to water them? who gave the sun to warm them? who did not allow the winter to blast them? who kept them growing from little trees to trees big enough to build houses with? not papa, not man; it was god." helen looked her mother in the eye, and then said, "papa bought nails to make it with." "what are nails made of?" asked mamma. "iron," answered helen; "and men dig iron out of the ground." "who put iron in the ground, and kept it there safe till the men wanted it?" asked mother. "it was god." "we got this carpet from men," said helen, drawing her small foot across it. "where did the carpet-men get the wool to make it from?" asked mother. "from farmers," answered helen. "and where did the farmers get it?" "from sheep and lambs' backs," said the little girl. "and who clothed the lambs in dresses good enough for us? for your dress, i see, is made of nothing but lambs' wool. where did the lambs get such good stuff?" "god gave it to them, i suppose," said the little girl. "it is you that gives me bread, mother," said she quickly. "but," said her mother, "the flour we got from the shop, and the shopkeeper bought it from the miller, and the miller took the wheat from the farmer, and the farmer had it from the ground, and the ground grew it all itself." "no," cried helen suddenly, "god grew it. the sun and the rain, the wind and the air, are his, and he sent them to the corn-field. the earth is his too. and so god is at the bottom of everything, isn't he, mother?" "yes," said mother; "god is the origin of every good and perfect gift which we enjoy." the little girl looked serious. she looked thinking. "then, mamma," she said at last, "i can't make a prayer long enough to thank god for everything." "oh, that men," even as the creatures of god, "would praise the lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!" a cingalese rock fortress. for the first time for a number of years the sigiri rock in ceylon has been scaled by a european, the feat on this occasion being performed by general lennox, who commands the troops in the island. it is said, indeed, that only one european, mr. creasy, ever succeeded in reaching the summit. the rock is cylindrical in shape, and the bulging sides render the ascent very difficult and dangerous. there are galleries all round, a groove about four inches deep being cut in the solid rock. this rises spirally, and in it are fixed the foundation bricks, which support a platform about six feet broad, with a chunam-coated wall about nine feet high. the whole structure follows the curves and contours of the solid rock, and is cunningly constructed so as to make the most of any natural support the formation can afford. in some places the gallery has fallen completely away, but it still exhibits flights of fine marble steps. high up on the rock are several figures of buddha; but it is a mystery how the artist got there, or how, being there, he was able to carry on his work. the fortifications consist of platforms, one above the other, supported by massive retaining walls, each commanding the other. owing to the falling away of the gallery, the ascent in parts had to be made up a perpendicular face of the cliff, and general lennox and four natives were left to do the latter part of the ascent alone. the top they found to be a plateau about an acre in extent, in which were two square tanks, with sides thirty yards and fifteen feet respectively in length, cut out of the solid rock. a palace is believed to have existed on the summit at one time, although time, weather, and the jungle have obliterated all traces of it. during the descent the first comer had to guide the foot of the next into a safe fissure, but all reached the bottom safely after two and a half hours. it is said that the amount of work expended on the galleries is incredible, and the writer of the account of the feat doubts if all the machinery of modern times could accomplish the stupendous work that was achieved here in old days by manual labour alone. a queer fisherman. monkeys and apes are (remarks a writer in _harper's young people_) always amusing creatures, and it is great fun to watch their tricks. but there is one ape, a native of the island of java, who outdoes most of his relatives in the way of being ridiculous, especially when he amuses himself as a fisherman. this ape is very fond of shellfish, and there is a certain kind of sand-crab that suits his palate exactly. these crabs dig little homes for themselves deep in the sand, and thither they retire when they want a quiet rest, or when any danger threatens. when all is well, they spend their time sunning themselves at the entrance of their holes, or hopping along the water's edge in search of food. the apes know their ways, and while the crabs are looking for a dinner they also are bent on obtaining one for themselves. apes, you know, can move very quickly. they wait until they see a party of crabs apparently unconscious of danger, and busily engaged in discussing a bit of seaweed, or devouring the insects they are so fond of. moving stealthily forward, as close as they dare, the ape gives a sudden leap, and seizes as many as possible of the poor, unsuspecting crabs, which are speedily crunched into a shapeless mass by his strong jaws, and devoured. but the crabs are very active too, and it often happens that they will take alarm in time to scamper quickly to their holes, and so cheat the ape out of his anticipated meal. when this occurs, the ape has recourse to a stratagem which proves how intelligent he really is, and which makes him appear, as i have said, one of the most amusing and ridiculous of creatures. the ape of java, unlike others of his species, possesses a very long tail. he moves quietly up to the hole into which he has seen the crab disappear, thrusts his tail into it, and awaits events. the crab, indignant at such an intrusion, makes a spirited attack, and fastens upon it. this is precisely what the ape wants. he gives a sudden spring forward. the crab, having no time to collect his ideas, is drawn to the surface, and in a moment the ape has him in his claws. poor crab! victim of his anxiety to punish the invasion of his home. one traveller tells us that "there is a comical look of suspense on the ape's face as he thrusts his tail into the hole, and waits for the crab to seize it." saved by grace. agreeably to your wishes, i send you the following account of w. b----, who had lived a dissolute life for nearly forty years. he was notorious for drinking and sabbath-breaking, and his general deportment was so abandoned that he was wicked even to a proverb. on saturday evening, march 4th, he attended a funeral, and from the place of interment he immediately betook himself to a public house, where he became so intoxicated that it was with some difficulty he reached his own habitation. no sooner was he laid down upon the bed, and composed to sleep, than the words of eliphaz were verified in his experience--"in thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake," for he dreamed a frightful dream. he thought he saw a serpent of the hydra kind, with nine heads, ready to seize him. whatever way he turned, a head presented itself, nor could he, by all the methods he devised, extricate himself from the baneful monster. he awoke in great distress. though it was but a dream, it made a strong impression upon his mind, and he was afraid it portended some future evil. the next morning, one of the members of our meeting, as he was going to the house of god, observed him in a pensive posture, and asked him if he would go with him and hear a sermon upon the old serpent. the sound of the word _serpent_ arrested his attention, and excited his curiosity to hear what i had to say upon such a subject. but for this expression, probably the poor man had remained unmoved. why the person used it he could not tell, nor why he invited him to accompany him that morning--a thing which he had never done before. but he could tell who, in the days of his flesh, "must needs go through samaria," and whose providences are always in coincidence with the purposes of his grace. as soon as prayer was ended, i preached from genesis iii. 13-15, "and the lord god said unto the woman, what is this that thou hast done? and the woman said, the serpent beguiled me, and i did eat. and the lord god said unto the serpent, because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle," &c. as i was explaining who that serpent was, and the methods he took to beguile sinners, the lord opened the poor man's eyes, and the word had free course and was glorified. from that moment he gave every demonstration of a real change of heart. about four or five months he continued in the pangs of the new birth. the anguish of his soul was great indeed. he perceived the number of his sins, and felt the weight of his guilt. for some time he was tempted to despair--i may say, to put an end to his existence--but while he was musing on his wretched condition, these words were applied as a sovereign remedy to his afflicted soul--"believe on the lord jesus christ, and thou shalt be saved." this administered all the joy and comfort he stood in need of. now he was enabled to believe that christ was as willing to forgive as he was mighty to redeem. the burden of his guilt dropped from his mind, as pilgrim's did at the sight of the cross, and immediately he "rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory." i was with him a little while after, and with a heart overflowing with gratitude to god, he showed me the place of his bethel visit, where the lord had opened to him his bleeding heart, and manifested his forgiving love. he seems to be, as the apostle expresses it, "a living epistle of christ, seen and read of all men." [illustration: "one of the members observed him in a pensive posture." (_see page 156._)] two brave children. the sky at night in the vicinity of apple creek, in dakota, a few weeks ago, was red all around the horizon, and the people knew that the prairie fires were burning. every evening, as darkness fell, the farmers saw the glare becoming more and more distinct, and during the day the smoke increased until it was nearly suffocating. not far from apple creek is the little village of sterling, and near sterling lived the stevens family. mr. stevens was away from home on the day that the fire approached the house, and it so happened that his wife was sick in bed. their children were a girl of eight years and a boy of eleven. the boy had heard that it was a good thing to plough a furrow across the path of the advancing flames, and about noon of the day in question he tried to protect the property in that manner. with the two-horse team and plough he cut a trench around the house and sheds, and then another trench around the stacks of unthreshed wheat. he was not strong enough to plough the trench to a great depth, but the wide line of damp earth thrown up would be hard for the flames to leap across, especially since his little sister followed him around, carrying away all trash that would add to the fury of the flames. that night the fire was so near that the poor woman thought of getting out of bed, with the purpose of attempting to escape, but she was too ill to try such a thing. moreover, she knew that if her husband could reach the house he would come, and she watched and prayed as the light came to her room from the crimson skies without. when the flames, running before the wind, came down upon the stevens' place, they licked up the fences in an instant, swept away the shocks of grain in the fields, and then rolled suddenly up to the furrows ploughed by the boy. the wheat stacks fell a prey, and numberless sparks were scattered around the house; but the brave boy and his sister ran all about, trampling out the fire wherever it caught. the little workers were desperate, for they knew that, should the house burn, their poor mother would surely perish in her bed. they fought with brooms, shovels, and water. wherever they could they dug up fresh earth, and for a quarter of an hour they did not pause for a single moment. once the house caught, and the wood began to add its crackling to the rush and roar of the vast prairie fire; but the children dashed bucket after bucket of water upon the burning spot, and so put it out. they carried the day. the great fire swept past, and in its wake came the father, half frantic with joy to find that his little hero and heroine had saved their mother's life.--_examiner._ a hint to boys. if i were a boy again, and knew what i know now, i would not be quite so positive in my own opinions as i used to be. boys generally think that they are very certain about many things. a boy of fifteen is a great deal more sure of what he thinks he knows than is a man of fifty. you ask the boy a question, and he will answer you right off, up and down. he knows all about it. ask a man of large experience and ripe wisdom the same question, and he will say, "well, there is much to be said about it. i am inclined, on the whole, to think so-and-so, but other intelligent men think otherwise." when i was about eight years old, i travelled from central massachusetts to western new york, crossing the river at albany, and going by canal to syracuse. on the canal-boat a kindly gentleman was talking to me one day, and i mentioned the fact that i had crossed the connecticut river at albany. how i got it into my head that it was the connecticut river i do not know, for i knew my geography very well then; but in some unmistakable way i fixed it in my mind that the river at albany was the connecticut, and i called it so. "why," said the gentleman, "that is the hudson river." "oh, no, sir," i replied, politely but firmly. "you're mistaken. that is the connecticut river." the gentleman smiled and said no more. in this matter i was perfectly sure that i was right, and so i thought it my duty to correct the gentleman's geography. i felt rather sorry for him that he should be so ignorant. one day, a short time after i reached home, i happened to be looking over my route on the map, and lo! there was albany standing on the hudson river, a hundred miles from the connecticut. then i did not feel half so sorry for the gentleman's ignorance as i did for my own. i never told anybody that story until i wrote it down on these pages the other day, but i have thought of it a thousand times, and always with a blush for my boldness. nor was it the only time that i was perfectly sure of things that were not really so. it is hard for a boy to learn that he may be mistaken; but, unless he is a dunce, he learns it after a while. the sooner he finds it out the better for him. w. g. divine guidance. in the life of mary pryor, well known among the quakers a hundred years ago, the following incident occurred on the occasion of her visit to the quakers in america. she visited several of the best ships of the period, but did not feel easy to take her passage in any of them. at length, on sitting down in an inferior vessel, called the _fame_, she said she felt "so comfortable" that she must go in that ship. her friends endeavoured to dissuade her, one of them saying he would not trust his dog in it. but having sought the lord's direction, she saw no light on any change of plan, and she set sail in the _fame_. she was now sixty years of age. the voyage occupied three months, and was miserable in the extreme. the old vessel sprang a leak, and for weeks crew and passengers had to work at the pumps to keep her afloat. at length, when all prospect of rescue seemed hopeless, and the men were on the point of giving up in despair, mrs. pryor, who had maintained her calmness and encouraged the sailors all along, came out of her cabin one morning, saying she had good news, for she had seen in a dream a vessel coming to their help that very day. she had forgotten the name of the ship, but if the female passengers would mention their maiden names, it would be recalled to her memory. one of them said her name had been "archibald." "that," said mrs. pryor, "is the name of the ship that will save us." the men were cheered, and turned with new energy to the pumps; and that evening, just before the vessel foundered, they were rescued by a small halifax schooner, named the _archibald_. the crew and passengers attributed their deliverance, under god, to the influence of mrs. pryor; and here was the explanation of the guidance she believed herself to have received to sail in the _fame_, contrary to the wishes of her friends. "the steps of a good man are ordered by the lord."--_lantern._ if christ be not a refiner's fire _in_ you, he will be a consuming fire _to_ you. god can give a pardon to the greatest sin, but he cannot give a patronage to the least sin. "jesus loves me!" a few years ago, a poor girl in london, to whose soul the spirit had spoken peace through the blood of jesus, was very anxious to impart the knowledge, and tell some other soul of the dear saviour she had found. she was too poor and ragged to take a class in a sunday school. she especially longed to tell children of jesus. she thought, if she could only be instrumental in the winning of one little child, how blessed it would be, so she used to speak to any little child she saw standing about in the street. one little boy, about seven years old, often went to her to hear her joyful gospel tidings. one day she missed him, and searched until she found him. poor little fellow! he was lying in great agony upon a miserable bed of straw in a wretched dwelling, and was quite alone. the kind girl, full of pity for him, and anxious to relieve him, called the attention of neighbours to him, but they declined to take any step in the matter. at last she called a policeman. he made the case known to the authorities, and the little sufferer was taken to the workhouse hospital. here he remained in great suffering, the doctors being unable to do anything to relieve him. in training him for an acrobat, his parents had treated him so severely, in order to make his tender little limbs supple, that there was not a bone in his body seemingly in its proper place, and his agony was most intense. six doctors, including queen's physicians, had his case under consideration, but their skill could not avail. he was unable to lie on his back or side. a frame was made to support his head as he leaned forward. his poor little hands were wrapped in cotton-wool steeped in morphia, to allay the pain. when he had been in the hospital about four months, a lady went to see him, from whom i heard this most touching and true account. she said she should never forget his face when he raised his head to speak to her. such a beautiful face, with sweet blue eyes and placid expression, met her gaze. he so frequently said, "thank you." it was, "thank you, i am not suffering quite so much to-day"; or, "thank you. you are so kind." one day, she asked him if he loved jesus. he looked at her so reproachfully that her heart smote her for having asked such a question; then he said, "jesus loves me." she saw then the meaning of his reproachful look. how could she ask him whether _he_ loved jesus when jesus loved _him_? the dear little sufferer had grasped the secret of power. it was not _his_ love for jesus, but the love of jesus _to him_, that was the solid rock on which he stood. another time he said, "oh, i don't mind bearing a little pain for jesus. he died for me." the language of some in the hospital was very dreadful. such blasphemy--such cursing and swearing--even when dying. but the clear voice of the young sufferer often rose high above all others. it distressed him beyond all measure, and he called out, "oh, don't, don't! jesus hears you." rough men, touched by the sight of his pain, would stand by him, listening to his words, silenced by his entreaties. truly he was "out of weakness made strong." not long after the visit of the lady to whom i have referred, god released the loving little soul from its tenement of suffering, and revealed to him, in the "eternal weight of glory," how fully he loved him. his brief tale of life on earth, with its pain so bravely borne, and its knowledge of love so faithfully testified, is now changed for the song and the crown, and the exceeding bliss of being for ever with him who loves him, "whom to know is life eternal," and "in whose presence is fulness of joy." nettie. a red sea rock. a fourth, and happily a successful, search by her majesty's ships has just been made for a reported rock towards the southern end of the red sea, on which two steamships, the _avocet_ and _teddington_, are supposed to have struck during the year 1887, both ships afterwards foundering. owing to a considerable error in the position given by the former vessel, the first search was mainly over ground too far to the westward, and operations were suspended until more accurate information could be obtained. the loss of the second ship, in a position given five miles north-east of the first, caused a second and careful search to be made on a more extended area, still with no indication. a surveying vessel was then sent two thousand miles in order to institute a rigorous examination; but six weeks' close search--though under great difficulties of strong wind and heavy sea--bore no fruit, and various theories were started to account for the loss of the two steamships. the fourth ship, her majesty's surveying ship _stork_, has been more successful. guided by some slight indication afforded by an insignificant rise in the sea bottom, the rock has been at last found. it is a small coral patch, only fifteen feet under the surface of the sea, and stands in twenty-eight fathoms of water, in latitude 14 deg. 22 min. 8 sec. n., longitude 42 deg. 41 min. 32 sec. e. it lies midway between the two best positions that critical cross-examination had finally settled as most probable for the respective vessels that were lost. though it is between five and six miles from the direct straight line of track, the existence at times of strong currents transverse to the axis of the red sea, causes the danger presented by it to be by no means insignificant, though it is a matter for marvel that it has never been struck before. the difficulty of finding such a small rock may be appreciated from the fact that one of the searching ships was at anchor within four hundred yards of it, with her boats sounding round her, without its being perceived, though she was driven from her anchorage by a gale before the spot was passed over by the boats. seeing the enormous british trade, valuable both in lives and property, that passes down the red sea, it is a matter of general congratulation that the admiralty refused to discontinue the search until the last hope of finding a rock was dispelled, and that the efforts to discover it have at length been crowned by success. kenilworth castle. willis, the american traveller, in his "famous persons and famous places," observes that, when visiting kenilworth, he noticed with surprise that in one place the swelling root of a creeper had lifted one arch from its base, and the protruding branch of a chance spring tree (sown, perhaps, by a field-sparrow) had unseated the keystone of the next. and so perish castles and reputations--the masonry of the human hand, and the fabrics of human thought--not by the strength which they feared, but by the weakness of trifling things which they despised. little did john o'gaunt think, when these rudely-hewn blocks were heaved into their seats by his herculean workmen, that, after resisting fire and foe, they would be sapped and overthrown at last by a vine-tendril and a sparrow! the priest and the lady; or, transubstantiation exposed. a lady once, a protestant, in ignorance was led to think she might with comfort live, though to a papist wed: but rome decrees no peace they'll have who marry heretics, until their households have been made submissive to her tricks. it sorely grieved this husband that his wife would not comply to join the "mother church" of rome, and heresy deny: day after day he flattered her, but still she held it good that man should never bow his knee to idols made of wood. the mass, the priest, and miracles, were made but to deceive; and transubstantiation, too, she never could believe. he went unto his clergy, and told him his sad tale-"my wife's an unbeliever, sir; try if you can prevail. "you say you can work miracles--she says it is absurd-convince her and convert her, and great is your reward." the priest went with the gentleman--he thought to gain a prize-he says, "i will convert your wife, and open quite her eyes." so when they came unto the house, "my dear," the husband cried, "the priest is come to dine with us." "he's welcome," she replied. the dinner being ended, the priest to teach began, explaining to the lady the sinful state of man. the kindness of the saviour (which no one can deny), who gave himself a sacrifice, and once for sin did die. "he by his priest still offers up himself a sacrifice." the lady only answered this by expressing great surprise. "i will return to-morrow--prepare some bread and wine-and then dispense the sacrament to satisfy your mind." "i'll bake the cake," the lady said. "you may," replied he, "and when you see this miracle, convinced i'm sure you'll be." the priest returned accordingly--the bread and wine did bless-the lady said, "sir, is it changed?" his reverence answered, "yes, it's changèd now from bread and wine to real flesh and blood; you may depend upon my word, that it is very god." thus, having blessed the bread and wine, to eat he did prepare. the lady said unto the priest, "i would have you take care; for one half ounce of arsenic i have mixed in that cake, but as you have its nature changed, it can no difference make." the priest stood all confused, and looked as pale as death; the bread and wine fell from his hands, and he did gasp for breath. "bring me my horse!" his reverence cried; "this is a cursèd place!" "begone! begone!" the dame replied; "you are a cursèd race!" her husband sat confounded, and not one word could say. at last he spoke--"my dear," said he, "the priest has run away; such mummery and nonsense can never bear the light; apostate rome i must denounce, and quit it i will quite." heresies are views discordant to the truths of god. stand back. a gentleman spending his holidays in scotland was fishing for trout. he had fishing-tackle and appliances of the best description. he threw out his bait all the morning, but caught nothing. towards afternoon he espied a little ragged urchin, with tackle of the most primitive order, nipping the fish out of the water with marvellous rapidity. amazed, he watched the lad for a while, and then went and asked him if he could explain the reason why he was so successful, in spite of his meagre outfit, while the expensive apparatus could catch nothing. the boy promptly replied, "the fish will no bite, sir, as lang as ye dinna _keep yersel' oot of sight_." well has it been said that "fishers of men need not wonder at their want of success, if they do not keep themselves out of sight,' and uplift the brazen serpent on the gospel pole, while studiously keeping themselves hidden behind the pole." his title deeds. the deacon of a church lay dying. he had been a successful merchant, and he was about leaving this world to give an account of his stewardship. when he was near his end, he asked his wife to bring him his title-deeds. the lady went to his private drawer, and drew out some musty papers relating to his property, which she took to him. as soon as he saw them, he said-"no, no; that is not what i mean. bring me the new testament." it was brought, and he had it opened at romans viii. 33--"who shall lay anything to the charge of god's elect?" he shortly after closed his eyes in death, his finger continuing to rest on the verse. our bible class. elisha and the shunammite. (2 kings iv. 8-37; viii. 1-6.) as the prophet elisha carried god's messages, and did his appointed work among the israelites, he passed through shunem. "a great woman," or, as we should say, a rich, influential lady, lived there with her husband and servants, and in her heart "some good thing toward the god of israel was found," so when the prophet passed her door, she invited him and his attendant to rest and refreshment; and since he often came that way, she induced her husband to have a room built upon the wall of the house, which she got furnished in a simple way, and this was set apart for elisha's special use. his heart was deeply touched by the kind sympathy so freely shown him, and he offered to do anything she might ask to show his gratitude. but the good woman was not ambitious. "i dwell," said she, "among mine own people. i am well content with the blessings i enjoy, and ask no more." this shunammite was doing good not for the sake of reward. she honoured the prophet because she perceived that he was "a holy man of god"--a beautiful proof that she also loved and served the lord, for "we know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." in honouring his prophet she honoured god, and he has said (and he is true), "them that honour me i will honour." the shunammite's honour belongs to all who love god's people for his sake, for jesus also declared that "whosoever shall give one of his little ones a cup of cold water to quench his thirst, in the name of a disciple, shall in no wise lose his reward" (matt. x. 41, 42). the loving services rendered to the saviour's friends--even to those who are most closely connected with us, or who often come in our way--are accepted by jesus as done unto himself. we may not be able to accomplish great and notable things, but, like this woman of old, may we do good as we have opportunity, and receive his word of acceptance, like mary, "she hath done what she could." but the shunammite was to be rewarded in a very unexpected way. she had no children, and gehazi mentioned this fact to his master, who, in the spirit of prophecy, assured her that, in due time, a son should be given her. her joy is described in her reply to elisha. the news seemed too good to be true. but "god is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think." the promised blessing came, and doubtless the mother felt that her cup overflowed with happiness. but earthly hopes are always insecure. the child had grown; and at harvest-time he went to the field with his father and the reapers, when suddenly what we should call a sunstroke fell upon him. "my head! my head!" was all he could say, and the father had him carried to his mother. she tended him with loving care, but at noon he died. she took the lifeless form upstairs, and laid it on the prophet's bed, and then announced her intention to go and find the man of god, saying, "it shall be well," or "peace." did she think her child would be restored to life at the prophet's word? perhaps so. she had received him at first in a miraculous way, and by a miracle he might be restored to her. at all events, her words and conduct illustrate the divine encouragement, "trust him at all times, ye people; pour out your heart before him; god is a refuge for us." they saw her in the distance, and gehazi ran to meet her, with the question, "is it well with thee, thy husband, and the child?" and she answered, "well." she would not tell the servant her sorrow. she hastened on to his master, and in her grief she caught hold of his feet, as if to hold him fast. elisha, though a prophet, did not know what had befallen her. perfect knowledge belongs to god alone, and he had not revealed this matter to him yet. he heard her story, and sent gehazi with all haste to lay his staff upon the face of the child. but the mother refused to leave elisha, and they together followed gehazi, who, first reaching the chamber of death, laid the prophet's rod upon the dead, but in vain. "there was neither voice nor hearing." a solemn picture of spiritual death--no voice to cry to god; no ears to listen to his word. are we alive or dead? elisha next entered the chamber alone, and, shutting the door, he prayed to the lord; and in the end, the child was perfectly restored to life and health. and this wondrous miracle was no doubt intended to foreshadow the general resurrection of the last great day, and to show that "with god all things are possible." here, too, we see a figure of "him that was to come." the shunammite prayed to god through elisha, from whose lips she had at first received the promise; and in the name of jesus we are to seek all blessings from heaven. "he ever lives to intercede before his father's face; give him, my soul, thy cause to plead, nor doubt the father's grace." time rolled on, and other sorrows came upon the highly-favoured mother. a terrible famine raged in samaria, and at elisha's bidding she and her household left the land of israel for seven years (see 2 kings viii.); and then, peace and plenty having been restored, she returned and went to the king to ask for her house and land in shunem. behold here the wonder-working providence of the lord. at the very time of her visit, gehazi was telling the king of elisha's miracles, especially that of raising one to life; and as the woman presented her appeal, gehazi, recognizing her, exclaimed, "my lord, this is the mother, and this her son, whom elisha restored to life." deeply interested at once in her case, the king granted all her request with the utmost readiness. so "all things work together for good to them that love god," and jesus always sympathizes with his people's sorrows, and helps and comforts them, so that "they who wait for him shall not be ashamed." may we, in every time of trial and difficulty- "wait for his seasonable aid, and though it tarry, wait; the promise may be long delayed, but cannot come too late." our next subject will be, _the parable of the labourers in the vineyard_ (matt. xx. 1-16). your affectionate friend, h. s. lawrence. bible enigma. for the little ones. one is in adam, but not in moses. one is in jesus, but not in daniel. one is in peter, but not in aaron. one is in eden, but not in spirit. one is in pharaoh, but not in matthew. one is in israel, but not in abdon. my whole, when arranged, will be found in the book of psalms. ethel marsh (aged 11 years). _laxfield._ bible subjects for each sunday in july. july 1. commit to memory daniel ii. 19. july 8. commit to memory daniel ii. 20. july 15. commit to memory daniel ii. 21. july 22. commit to memory daniel ii. 22. july 29. commit to memory daniel ii. 23. prize essay. the difference between "uncertain riches" and "the true riches." in proverbs xxiii. 5, the wise man says, "riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle toward heaven"; and in chapter viii. 18, he says, "riches and honour are with me; yea, durable riches and righteousness." in these two verses may be seen one difference between the "uncertain riches" and the "true" ones. the first passage of scripture refers to the uncertain or earthly riches, which "make themselves wings" and "fly away." the second riches spoken of are the true ones, which christ gives to his people, and which are durable, inasmuch as they last for ever and ever. this verse is spoken by christ under the name of wisdom. in christ's parable about the rich man and lazarus (luke xvi. 19-31), both kinds of riches are spoken of. the rich man had the uncertain riches in abundance, and was selfish, and kept them to himself, but the beggar, though destitute of this world's goods, was one of god's children, and had the true riches. a man may be very rich, and be looking forward to a long life in which to enjoy his riches, like the rich man in the parable (see luke xii. 16), when he may suddenly die, and then what good can his wealth do him? what paul says in his first epistle to timothy is quite true. he says, "we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out" (1 tim. vi. 7); and the psalmist says, in psalm xlix. 16-18, "be not thou afraid when one is made rich, when the glory of his house is increased; for when he dieth he shall carry nothing away: his glory shall not descend after him. though while he lived he blessed his soul." but it is not so with those who have the true riches. they can never be disappointed in having to part with them, for, as before mentioned, they are everlasting. christ said, in his sermon on the mount, "lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal" (matt. vi. 19, 20). our riches are, as we know from experience, never really safe from harm and damage, as articles of apparel, however costly they may be, are, if very careful measures are not used, subject to being eaten by moths. other things are spoiled by rust gathering on them, whilst money is never secure, because thieves may steal it; and even in banks the managers or clerks may be tempted to steal the money entrusted to them, or the bank may fail. daniel herbert says, in one of his hymns- "should all the banks in britain break, the bank of england smash, bring in your notes to zion's bank; you're sure to get your cash." one of christ's gifts to his people is spoken of in 1 peter i. 4. it is "an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away," reserved in heaven for those who are "kept by the power of god, through faith, unto salvation." christ also gives his people "a crown of glory, that fadeth not away" (see 1 peter v. 4). this crown is called, in timothy, "a crown of righteousness"; and, in 1 corinthians ix. 25, paul calls it an "incorruptible" one; and james says, "blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the lord hath promised to them that love him" (james i. 12). in conclusion, we might compare the two kinds of riches to the lord's parable about the wise man who built his house upon a rock, and it stood firm, "for it was founded upon a rock," and the foolish one, who built his upon the sand, and his house "fell, and great was the fall of it." the first instance resembles those who do not set their hopes on the uncertain, but on the true riches; and the second like those who think only of earth, its uncertain pleasures and riches (matt. vii. 24-27). e. b. knocker (aged 14 years). _south hill house, tunbridge wells._ [very good essays have been received from nellie nunn, laura creasey, eleanor saunders, jane bell, w. e. cray, j. rowbottom, alice creasey, rose holloway, annetta hargreaves, e. r. harris, &c. their efforts are very encouraging.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "the story of the spanish armada." the subject for september will be, "the blessings conferred on england by the accession to the throne of william of orange, and by the protestant succession thereby secured to us"; and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the reformation and its heroes." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of august.] erratum.--through an oversight, the name of the sender of the enigma was given last month instead of the sender of the answer. it should have been--nellie nunn, aged twelve years. interesting items. the number of bibles printed during last year in england alone amounted to nearly four millions. a birds' nest in a railway truck.--a water wagtail's nest, containing four eggs, was found at norbiton station amongst some coal in a truck which arrived from derbyshire, a few weeks ago. the old birds had evidently come too, for they were seen flying about the station. the death is announced of mr. norman macdonald, of big bras dor, cape breton, at the reputed age of 110 years. it is stated that he was a survivor from waterloo. he was a man of great activity and endurance, and up to about two years ago was able to work on his farm at cape breton. a quiet rebuke.--an old minister one sunday, at the close of the sermon, gave notice to the congregation that in the course of the week he expected to go on a mission to the heathen. one of the deacons, in great agitation, exclaimed, "why, my dear sir, you have never told us one word of this before! what shall we do?" "oh, brother," said the parson, "i don't expect to go out of town." there are more beggars in london this year than i ever remember before--female beggars, crossing sweeper beggars, and singing beggars. and no wonder, if many of them earn as much as one of the fraternity who was before a suburban magistrate recently. this man confessed to earning 5s., 10s., and 15s., and on one occasion as much as £1 1s. 6d. he has earned his living by begging for thirty years, and made a very good living too. he was sent to prison for fourteen days, and when out will doubtless resume his lucrative profession. a clerical miser.--the rev. john trueman, of daventry, possessed an income of about four hundred pounds per annum clear; and, by his self-denying management of it, he contrived to amass fifty thousand pounds. there were few things too mean for him to do in order to save money. he would steal turnips out of the fields as he passed along, on the pretence of visiting the farmhouses, and then beg bits of bacon to boil with them from the good wives in the parish. sometimes he would quarter himself, without any invitation, in a farmhouse, and in the room in which he slept, he has been known to pull the worsted out of the corners of the blankets, and take it away with him, in order to darn his stockings. in india we have a few peculiarities because of the great heat. our houses are, generally speaking, on the open ground, no upstair rooms, and the doors are left wide open. there was an english mother who had the habit, when probably half asleep, of handing out her baby before daybreak to the ayah, to administer to its wants and cares. one morning, this poor mother, all but asleep, felt, as she thought, the cold touch of the ayah (the native nurse), and handed out the baby; but it was a wolf that was there. we are asleep, my friends. that mother lost her reason when the dear little infant was thus destroyed; but in our sleep and in our slumber we lose one child after another by handing them over to rome--to the wolf that destroys them. oh, let us awake!--_w. ayerst, m.a._ steel lace.--a new branch of industry is going to revolutionize the lace trade. a new york dealer in laces is exhibiting a specimen of lace of an extremely delicate pattern, and so light that it can almost be blown away by a breath of air. this lace is made of steel rolled as fine as the point of a cambric needle. it is not woven, but stamped out of a sheet of low grade steel, so that it should not be too brittle. it was turned out of a small pittsburgh mill, and sent to the dealer to show what could be done in that line. in the course of time other patterns will be made--heavier, perhaps, but certainly more tenacious than this piece. there is said to be no question as to its durability, and its cheapness would make it the most saleable of all laces in the market. it may create a revolution in the lace market, if rust can be guarded against.--_iron._ sulphur for sore throats.--the value of sulphur in throat difficulties is but little known among families, though most physicians prescribe it in some form. an ordinary sore throat will be relieved by a gargle of sulphur and water--one tablespoonful to a glass of water, and use frequently. in every family the flour of sulphur should be always kept ready for use, and at the appearance of irritation or cankered spots, a gargle should be given, or the powder blown through a paper tube directly into the throat. at different times we have seen the throat trouble relieved in a few hours by the simple use of this valuable remedy. a sore throat is no trivial thing, and no time should be lost in the matter. if, after discovering it in a child, it does not improve in a few hours' time after the use of sulphur, a reliable physician should be called in without further delay. the queen regent of spain opened the international exhibition at barcelona on sunday, may 20th, in the presence of a distinguished assemblage, including the duke and duchess of edinburgh, and prince george of wales. perhaps this was done as a set-off against our protestant commemorations. oh, england! england! blush with shame! thy princes stoop to foul thy name. the present spring has been remarkable for the number of rare birds that have appeared in this country and on the continent. these include the golden oriole, pied flycatcher, sand-grouse, dotterel, hoopoe, short-toed lark, moustached grass-warbler, and rose-coloured pastor. in spite of the wild birds' protection act, many of these visitants are shot immediately upon their arrival. it is only in rare cases that the police interfere, even when the killing of the birds is a matter of notoriety. hay fever.--sir morell mackenzie has opportunely published a lecture he delivered some time ago at the london hospital medical college on hay fever, which he defines to be a peculiar affection of the mucous membrane of the nose, eyes, and air passages, giving rise to catarrh and asthma, almost invariably caused by the action of the pollen of grasses and flowers, and therefore prevalent only where they are in blossom. with regard to the treatment of this disease, sir morell mackenzie believes the first thing to do is, to remove the patient from a district in which there is much flowering grass, a sea voyage being probably the most perfect satisfactory step that can be taken. patients unable to go to sea should reside near the coast, while dwellers in towns should avoid the country, and those who reside in the country should make a temporary stay in the centre of a large town. extraordinary raffle for bibles.--a curious custom was observed in the parish church of st. ives, hunts, on may 23rd. dr. robert wilde, who died in august, 1678, bequeathed £50, the yearly interest of which was to be expended in the purchase of six bibles, not exceeding the price of 7s. 6d. each, which should be "cast for dice" on the communion table every year by six boys and six girls of the town. a piece of ground was bought with the £50, and is now known as "bible orchard." the legacy also provided for the payment of ten shillings yearly to the vicar for preaching a sermon on the occasion "commending the excellency, the perfection, and divine authority of the holy scriptures." this singular custom has been regularly observed in the church since the death of the testator, but representations having been made to the bishop of the diocese, the practice of throwing the dice on the communion table was discontinued some years ago, and the raffling now takes place on a table erected at the chancel steps. the highest throw this year (three times, with three dice) was thirty-seven, by a little girl. the vicar (the rev. e. tottenham) preached a sermon from the words, "from a child thou hast known the holy scriptures." antiquarian discovery.--during some excavations on the premises of messrs. walker and sons, otley, yorkshire, a mass of human and other bones, bears' claws, flint, charcoal, and burnt slates or tiles, was turned up with the subsoil, and among the _débris_, at a depth of nearly eight feet from the modern soil level, six copper and bronze coins and a lead seal were found, several of the coins being in a good state of preservation. some of the letters on the coins are worn, but it appears certain that some of the coins are of great antiquity. the seal is of more recent date. seals like the one found were attached to the papal bulls, and as this specimen has the usual aperture through its diameter to allow of the connection of the bull with the seal being made, there is no doubt that this was so attached to a document of this character. in years past the archbishops had a palace at otley, and it is conjectured that this is one of the many seals used in the manner indicated. the seal in question bears authority from pope innocent iv., who occupied the papal chair from 1243 to 1254. on the obverse are the roman capitals "spa., spe.," standing respectively for st. paul and st. peter. immediately below are the heads of those saints in relief, a cross in the middle dividing them. on the reverse are the letters "innocentivs pp iiii." colchester.--st. john's green chapel sunday school.--the anniversary services in connection with this school were held on sunday and monday, may 27th and 28th. the sermons on the sunday were preached by the minister, mr. w. brown. on the monday, the usual gathering of teachers, friends, and scholars was well attended, when suited addresses were given, and prizes awarded to many of the scholars for regular and punctual attendance. sixteen gained prizes for good essays on "the life of joseph." the balance sheet for the last year showed the receipts to be £18 14s. 1d., and the expenditure to be £23 10s. 3d., leaving £4 16s. 2d. due to the treasurer. the amount received on sunday and monday was £11 6s. 9½d. there are now 187 scholars and 15 teachers in the school, 23 scholars and three teachers being added during the past year. [illustration: the wounded drummer-boy.] charlie coulson, the drummer-boy. during the american war, dr. rossvally was surgeon in the army, and after the battle of gettisburg, among hundreds of wounded soldiers, a drummer-boy was found entirely helpless on the field. the case seemed almost too bad for treatment, but as the lad opened his large blue eyes, the doctor felt he could not let him die there, so he ordered him to be taken to the hospital, and found that an arm and a leg required amputation. the assistant-surgeon wished to administer chloroform to the young sufferer, but he refused, and when dr. rossvally himself remonstrated with him, he replied-"doctor, one sunday afternoon, in the sabbath school, when i was nine and a half years old, i was brought to believe in christ. i learned to trust him then. i have been trusting him ever since, and i feel i can trust him now. he will support me while you amputate my arm and leg." the jewish doctor's heart was touched in spite of himself, and he thereupon asked charlie a question he had never asked a soldier before--would he like to see the chaplain? "oh, yes, sir!" was the quick response; and after seeing the minister, by whom he sent a loving message to his mother and the superintendent of his sunday school, he told the doctor he was ready for the operation, promising that he would not even groan if no chloroform were offered him. he kept his promise, only putting the corner of his pillow in his mouth during the most painful part of the process, saying, "oh, jesus, blessed jesus, stand by me now!" that night the doctor could not sleep. those soft blue eyes and that gentle voice seemed to meet him continually, and he could not help returning to the hospital in the middle of the night to inquire about the lad. he found him sweetly sleeping, and one of the nurses told him how two friends had visited him, and had sung "jesus, lover of my soul" by his bed-side, and charlie had joined in the sacred song. five days afterwards, he felt he was dying, and sending for the doctor, he thanked him for all his kindness, and begged him to remain and see him die, trusting jesus to the last moment of his life. he tried to stay, but it was too much for his jewish feelings to see that dying youth rejoicing in the love of the jesus whose very name he had been taught to hate, and he hurriedly left the room. twenty minutes after, he was again summoned to that bed, and, asking him to take his hand, charlie said, "doctor, i love you because you are a jew. the best friend i have found in this world was a jew, jesus christ, to whom i want to introduce you before i die; and will you promise me, doctor, that what i am about to say to you you will never forget?" the doctor promised, and the lad went on--"five days ago, while you amputated my arm and leg, i prayed the lord jesus christ to convert your soul." these words sank into the doctor's heart. how could that sufferer, in the midst of such intense pain, be thinking only of his saviour and an unconverted soul? and he could only answer, "well, my dear boy, you will soon be all right." with these words he left him, and a few minutes later the youth fell asleep in jesus, at seventeen years of age. dr. rossvally followed him to the grave, and for some months the impression his patience and faith had made upon him still remained. gradually it wore off, however; and for ten years longer he remained a despiser of the saviour, when god, in mercy, sent another message to his wandering child. at the close of the american war, dr. rossvally had been made inspecting surgeon, with charge of the military hospital in texas. returning one day from an inspecting tour, he stopped at an hotel in new york, and going to be shaved, he found the barber's shop hung around with beautifully framed scripture texts; and what was more, the barber began to speak to him of jesus in such an attractive way, that charlie coulson's happy death came vividly before his mind. the doctor's mind was deeply moved, and when he reached washington, where he resided, for the first time in his life he went to hear an address in a christian place of worship, and he could not restrain the tears that would flow while he listened; and when the service was ended, an elderly lady spoke to him before he could escape. he told her he would pray to his god--the god of abraham, isaac, and jacob--but not to jesus. "bless your soul," was the earnest answer, "your god of abraham, isaac, and jacob is my christ, and your messiah!" he went home full of conflicting feelings, and then for hours he wept and prayed, while many prophecies concerning the messiah came to his mind, and at length the conviction came that jesus was the christ, that he was his saviour, and that god had forgiven him for the sake of his beloved son. he hastened to tell his wife of his newly-found joy, but it only enraged her, and leaving home, she went to her parents' house, who forbade her to have any further intercourse with her husband, and took the two children under their care. so true is it still that a jew must be prepared to forsake all when he follows jesus. he went away with a sad heart on his next commission, but regularly wrote to his wife, praying that she might read at least one of his letters. for fifty-three days each one was destroyed unopened, but one night their daughter dreamed that she saw her father die, and next morning she determined to take his letter in and read it. she did so, and after a while showed it to her mother, who, having secretly read it again and again, was overcome with strange new feelings, and she also was led to trust in that long-despised but now precious name--jesus, the son of god. husband and wife were now united in the lord, and their daughter also became a new creature. their son, however, long refused even to acknowledge either of his parents, and his mother died without seeing or hearing from him, but it is hoped that her prayers for him may be answered. mrs. rossvally's end was peaceful and happy. some friends sang, "jesus, lover of my soul," and when they reached the line, "thou, o christ, art all i want," she said, "yes, this is all i want! come, blessed jesus, and take me home!" and so she "fell asleep." dr. rossvally still lives, and like a well-known ancient trophy of divine grace, preaches the faith he once laboured to destroy, and "christ and him crucified" is his hope and joy. dear reader, whoever you may be, may you reflect upon the fact that there is salvation in none other than the lamb of god, who died to put sin away, and ever lives to save all who come unto god by him. and may his holy spirit impress the truth upon your heart, "he that believeth on the son of god hath everlasting life, but he that believeth not the son shall not see life, but the wrath of god abideth on him" (john iii. 36).--_from a tract, published at leeds by dr. m. l. rossvally, a converted jew._ a worthy quaker thus wrote:--"i expect to pass through this world but once; if, therefore, there be any kindness i can show, or any good thing i can do to any fellow human being, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again." mr. edison's phonograph. _to the editor of the times._ sir,--at two o'clock this afternoon, at the address below, i had the honour to receive from mr. edison his "perfected phonograph," which, on the authority of mr. edison's own statement, in his own familiar voice, communicated to me by the phonograph itself, "is the first instrument of his latest model that has been seen outside of his laboratory, or has left his hands," and is consequently the first to reach this country. at five minutes past two o'clock precisely, i and my family were enjoying the at once unprecedented and astounding experience of listening to mr. edison's own familiar and unmistakable tones here in england--more than three thousand miles from the place where he had spoken, and exactly ten days after, the voice having meanwhile voyaged across the atlantic ocean. "his first phonogram," as mr. edison calls it, tells me, among other things, that this instrument contains many modifications of those which, a few weeks ago, were exhibited at the electrical club in new york, and so widely reported by the press. in the several long phonogramic communications to me (no single word of which had to be repeated in order to be clearly and easily understood by every person present, including a child of seven years old), mr. edison mentions that he will send me phonograms by every mail leaving new york, and requests me to correspond with him exclusively through the medium of the phonograph, humorously remarking in this connection upon the advantages he will himself derive from the substitution of phonograms for a style of writing not always too legible. next to the phonogram from mr. edison himself, and before all the remainder of the deeply interesting contents of the "phonogramic cabinet" sent me, is an exquisite poem entitled, "the phonograph's salutation," composed by the well-known and gifted american poet and preacher, horatio nelson powers, d.d., of piermont, on the hudson. this poem makes the phonograph tell its own story of what it is and what it does, in a style and with a power that must add not a little to the already high reputation of its author. it was spoken by him into the phonograph, so that we cannot fail to read it as he would have it read--a privilege of no small importance to both the poet and those who hear him. perhaps the highest justification of the phonograph's description of its own power in its "salutation" is found in the fact that to several members of my family who are familiar with the doctor's style of oratory, from having sat under his preaching in former years, the voice of the author is perfectly recognizable, even by my youngest child of seven years, who had not heard the voice since he was five years old. besides the above, mr. edison has sent for our amusement numerous musical records of great interest and beauty--pianoforte, cornet, and other instruments, solos, duets, &c., many of which, he tells me, have been very frequently repeated--some, several hundred times. altogether, our experiences of the day have been so delightful and unusual, not to say supernatural, that it makes it difficult to realize that we have not been dreaming--so interesting withal as to make it seem a duty, as it is a pleasure, to communicate the above to your widely-read paper, which i have so frequently observed to chronicle the works of the author of this unparalleled triumph of mind over matter. all honour to edison! i have the honour to be, sir, your obedient servant, g. e. gouraud. _little menlo, beulah hill, upper norwood, surrey, june 26th, 1888_. p.s.--it may be interesting to add that the above communication was spoken by me into the phonograph, and written from the phonograph's dictation by a member of my family, who had, of course, no previous experience of the instrument. the house upon the sand. "whilst we were conversing with a man named joachim," says a missionary to syria, "in the city of nazareth, a sudden but violent storm arose, and terrific peals of thunder rolled over our heads. the brow of the hill whereon the city was built was every moment gleaming as the lightning flashed. the rain fell in torrents, and in the course of an hour a river flowed past the convent door, along what lately was a dry and quiet street. in the darkness of the night, we heard loud shrieks for help. the floods carried away baskets, logs of wood, tables, and fruit-stands. at length a general alarm was given. two houses built on the sand were undermined by the water, and both fell together, while the people in them escaped with difficulty. it was impossible not to pity these poor, houseless creatures, and, at the same time, to thank god we were in a secure building." the power and meaning of these words spoken by our lord was thus made plain--"therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, i will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock; and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock." unseen protection. a lady was wakened up one morning by a strange noise of pecking at the window, and when she got up, she saw a butterfly flying backwards and forwards inside the window in a great fright, because outside there was a sparrow pecking at the glass, wanting to reach the butterfly. the butterfly did not see the glass, but it saw the sparrow, and evidently expected every moment to be caught. neither did the sparrow see the glass, though it saw the butterfly, and made sure of catching it. yet, all the while, the butterfly, because of that thin, invisible sheet of glass, was actually as safe as if it had been miles away from the sparrow. poor, fearful child of god, it is when our protector is out of sight that our hearts fail us. elisha's servant was in great fear when he awoke in the morning, and saw the city of dothan encompassed with horses, and chariots, and a great host; but when his eyes were opened, at the prayer of the prophet, his fears vanished, for he beheld the mountain full of horses and chariots of fire. "thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee." "the lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth and even for evermore." "though now unseen by outward sense, faith sees him always near; a guide, a glory, a defence: then what have you to fear?" --_waymarks for pilgrims._ answer to bible enigma. (_page 130._) the omnipotence of god is, in some measure, made known to the heart of every individual on the face of the earth. we cannot cast our eyes around us without seeing, in some way or other, the wonderful power of god in the creating and ordering of all things. only what god has purposed to do will take place; and, on the other hand, whatever god has ordered he has power to bring to pass, although to us such things may seem utterly impossible, "but with god all things are possible" (matt. xix. 26). if we look through the bible, the power of god prevails in every book, chapter, and verse. was it not with a mighty hand that he brought the israelites up out of egypt? and their enemies, who were much stronger than they, when they knew the lord was on israel's side, feared greatly, and were all overthrown and destroyed (exod. xii. 33; joshua x. 2). david, too, realized that wonderful power. he says, "but i will sing of thy power; yea, i will sing aloud of thy mercy in the morning: for thou hast been my defence and refuge in the day of my trouble" (psa. lix. 16). david was often brought very low (psa. xviii. 4, 5; cxvi. 3), but the lord did not suffer him to despair, for he was one of his most precious jewels. job, too, felt, in a remarkable way, during his affliction, the power of the lord, and he endeavoured to show and explain it to his friends, but he had to finish up by saying, "lo, these are parts of his ways, but how little a portion is heard of him!" the omnipotence of god is so vast that it is quite impossible for us to fathom it. look at the history of jehoshaphat. he heard that a great army was coming to fight against them, and the army of jehoshaphat, being so small, he knew they must be defeated and slain. but, in his extremity, he cried unto the lord, saying, "o lord god of our fathers, art not thou god in heaven? and rulest not thou over all the kingdoms of the heathen? and in thine hand is there not power and might, so that none is able to withstand thee?" (2 chron. xx. 6.) was any able to withstand the lord? no! read the twenty-seventh verse--"then they returned, every man of judah and jerusalem, and jehoshaphat in the forefront of them, to go again to jerusalem with joy; for the lord had made them to rejoice over their enemies." before, they felt condemned to die, but now they were released, and filled with joy. such are the numerous instances in which the lord, in his power, has raised up the cast down, relieved the oppressed, and comforted mourners, and such as are of a sad heart. agnes willerton. _corby, grantham._ [this is the best answer we have received, therefore we give it as embodying the secret of the enigma.--ed.] bible enigma. a giant. one of david's wives. a disease. a piece of money. a prophetess. a garment worn by the priests. a judge. a brother of david. a king of judah. a brook. a colour. the name by which the penitent israelites were to address god. a son of jacob. the mother of a friend of paul's. the initials form something which the saviour said. harry f. forfeitt (aged 10 years). one "whose heart the lord opened." carrie foord, the subject of this memoir, was born at tunbridge, in kent, on 27th september, 1867. at the age of six years she lost her mother, and at eight her father, leaving her sister kate and herself to the care of their stepmother, who was in every way most kind to them, which kindness they returned with much affection. it was mrs. foord's wish to keep a home for them to grow up together. man proposes and god disposes. the home had to be given up, kate going to her grandfather's, and carrie, in the providence of god, brought to live with us at hailsham, much against her inclination, as she neither liked us nor our religion. this continued for some time, but "god moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform." she was brought, through divine grace, to see her state as a sinner in the sight of god by hearing the third verse of the 666th hymn of gadsby's selection given out one evening, as she took her seat in the chapel. the arrow of conviction went home to her heart. well do i remember, on her return, finding her alone, and crying. putting her arms round my neck, she said, "what shall i do? i am such a sinner! i'm so wicked!" although at the time i did not know what had caused her distress. at another time she was much impressed by a sermon our dear pastor, mr. nunn, preached from hebrews xiii. 14--"for here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come." from this time she became an earnest seeker, very regular in her attendance at the house of god, nothing but duty keeping her away. ultimately she was baptized, and became a very useful teacher in the sabbath school, where she was much loved. early in 1886 she caught a severe cold, which settled on her lungs, causing the rupture of a blood-vessel. some scattered sayings, spoken at different times during her illness, were recorded, of which the following are a few:-"oh, i do wish he did not think so well of me, and call me good!" alluding to a remark of a very dear friend. "he does not know how wicked i am, or he would never say i was good. what a mercy i was ever brought here, under the sound of the gospel! but then, god is not confined to places, is he, auntie? if i am his child, he would be sure to reveal himself to me, in his own good time; but i do thank him for bringing me here. my dear uncle, how kind he is! how earnestly he has prayed for me, and our dear pastor too! i believe their prayers have been answered. what a mercy!" after a bad fit of bleeding, i said, "did you think, dear, you should die, when bringing up the blood?" she said, "no, auntie; i never once thought i should." our hopes were raised as she got better so quickly, and we thought it might have been only a lodgment. she frequently said, "i don't mind if it is not my lungs." but when she grew rapidly worse, and we called in another doctor, he only confirmed what our own doctor had said--that her case was hopeless. after they were gone, she said, "what did they say, auntie?" i told her it was the lung. she very quietly remarked, "people often live a long time with their right lung gone, don't they?" i said, "yes," not having the heart to tell her, in her case, it would not be long. one day, turning over the leaves of a hymn-book, i came to the one on the safety of believers, which i read. the first verse is- "there is a safe and secret place, beneath the wings divine, reserved for all the heirs of grace; oh, be that refuge mine!" she said, "i do like that hymn so much, auntie. i have had such sweet times in my little room. often when you have sent me up to study for my class, i have had such sweet enjoyment that i could not study." on awaking one night, she said, "oh, auntie, i have had some beautiful words come with such power, and i keep saying them--'thou art mine, as the apple of mine eye.'" i said, "you could not have a more precious portion. that will do to go to sleep on, won't it?" she said, "oh, yes!" and soon fell into a peaceful slumber. one night she said, "auntie, do you ever feel your prayers to be very formal, as if it was merely a habit, and no heart in it?" i said, "yes, dear; too often." she said, "do you?" "oh, yes," i said; "i wish i did not." one morning, going into her room, she said to me, "i have had a nice time. the sun shone brightly in at the window, and those words came, 'so shall the sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings.'" one day she said, "i used to cry so when i was at gravesend. do you know what for?" i said, "no; why did you?" she said, "because i was coming here. i did dislike coming so, and for a long time after i was here i would go and pray, as i thought, very earnestly that mother would send a letter to fetch me away; but that letter never came. no, it never came; and what a mercy it did not! god knew what was best for me. how we can look back and say, 'all was for the best.'" we felt that we should like her to know the state of health she was in, but felt quite unfit to tell her. during a visit, a friend asked her if she wished to get better? on referring to me, after they were gone, she said, "is it wrong, auntie? don't you think it is natural for me to wish so, who am young?" i said, "yes, dear, quite natural." she said, "but i know the lord will do what he thinks best." previous to her nineteenth birthday (september 27th) she had a return of the bleeding, which again confined her to her bed for a time. we all felt her end might be very near, and would perhaps come suddenly by the rupture of another blood-vessel; therefore we were very anxious she should know what a precarious state she was in. it was, therefore, quite a relief when she said one day, "auntie, i did not think at one time i should be alive now. i did not think i should live to see my birthday." i said, "i am very glad to hear you say this. i quite thought you were under the impression you would get better. what were your feelings when you thought this?" "oh," she said, "i felt i could leave it all in the lord's hands. he would do what was best." there was a sweet resignation to his will at this time; but, after a little while, her bodily strength increasing, she was gradually buoyed up with a hope that she might get better. knowing from the faithfulness of our doctor that her case was hopeless, we could not participate in that hope. she was most honest in her principles, and could not bear to deceive any one. one day, as we were sitting alone, she said, "oh, auntie, you never thought i could deceive you or uncle, did you? but i did." i said, "i am glad you have spoken of this, dear, although i think in your case it was different from many" (knowing that what she alluded to was a private matter). "at any rate, you have our pardon." she said, "what stings of conscience i have had through it! it has quite taken away any feeling of pleasure i may have had; and yet my will was so strong to have my own way, i could not give it up.[10] i have not deceived you in anything else, auntie. you believe me, don't you?" i said, "indeed i do." [10] we hope all our young readers will mark this honest confession, which was produced by the fear of god, and ever remember that deception is mean and sinful.--ed. a very dear friend calling to see her one afternoon, who had not seen her since she was called by divine grace, said in the course of conversation, "well, my dear, there are times and seasons, i have no doubt, when you can say you would not have it otherwise, but that it was good for you to be afflicted?" she turned very red, paused, then said with her usual candour, "i cannot say that, miss g----." after her departure, she said, "auntie, i wish to be submissive to the will of the lord, but i felt i could not say that i have ever had a time when i would not have it otherwise." a friend calling one evening, spoke in a very solemn manner of those who had a false enjoyment, and put some close questions to her. she said little, but after he was gone seemed much put out, and said, "i know i cannot talk like those he visits. i expect he thinks there is nothing in me. what do you say, auntie?" i said, "he was certainly very searching, my dear, but i don't think you understood him. he is so afraid of any one resting on a wrong foundation, and knowing what a very delicate state of health you were in, he was anxious to know if you were resting on christ, and christ alone, for salvation." "well," she said, "i felt dumb. i expect he thinks very badly of me." her strength seemed to go daily. as christmas drew near, she said, "auntie, let everything go on the same as it has done other years. make no difference for me. invite your friends for the day as usual." but we felt it a very solemn time, and hard work to put on the appearance of cheerfulness, feeling sure, ere another christmas came, her place would be vacant, and she in eternity. her dear little cousin was a great sufferer at times all through her illness, and it became apparent that she, too, was fast hastening home. i said to carrie one day, "i used to feel, dear, that i should have you to leave to see after our dear flo, if we were taken, but it seems the lord's will to take you, and i sometimes think she won't be long." she answered, "no, i don't think she will; but she will be safe whenever she goes." we could have but few quiet times together after this, through the serious illness and death of her dear cousin, but she was wonderfully buoyed up at this time with the assurance that nothing was too hard for the lord, and apparently rested upon it, for when i was alluding to her sad state of health, she said, "i know i am beyond the power of earthly physicians to cure, auntie; but, you know, nothing is too hard for the lord." after the death of her cousin, she was most anxious to have her mourning made, which we felt sorry for, as it seemed such a clinging to life; but we found it was only a natural desire to show her love for her dear little cousin. at any rate, the wish gradually left her, and all things of an earthly nature lost their charm. one day she said, "i have no wish to join in anything now. i don't feel to want to go and witness anything. that is a blessing the lord only can give, isn't it?" i said, "yes," knowing what great delight she used to take in many things, and how active she had been, especially in anything connected with the chapel or sabbath school. after this darkness set in. the word of god was as a sealed book, and she had no spiritual enjoyment, which she much deplored; also, the visits of our dear pastor and her uncle failed to give any comfort. one day, after a doze in the easy chair, she said, "was it not strange? it seemed as if, when i was sleeping, a little boy came to me, and said, 'the lord hath not forgotten thee, so live in peace.' it did seem so strange to see the little boy come up and say this. what do you think of it?" i said, "i cannot tell." she grew rapidly worse, and our dear nurse thought it advisable to ask the doctor to call, as he had not been for a few days. he came, and said she might be gone in twenty-four hours, or might linger a few days, but the beginning of the end had taken place. our dear pastor went and spoke a few words to her ere he left, and said, "ah! dear, it is well with you," and other words of comfort. but after he was gone she was much cast down, and said, "oh, why did he say that? i don't feel it will be well." then, after a little while, she said, "do you think i am much worse?" "yes, dear," i replied. "do you think i shall die?" i said, "i fear you will." then she said, "oh, auntie, what trouble i am in! i fear i have deceived you and myself, and that i shall go to hell." i replied, "but, my dear, you have had some sweet promises applied with power, haven't you?" "oh, i've thought so, but if i have been deceiving myself?" i said, "you have had a desire after these things, have you not?" "oh, yes!" she replied. "then," i said, "i feel assured, my dear, you would not have had a real desire if you were a deceiver." she said, "auntie, what shall i do? i feel i can't die like this; but i can't do anything, can i?" wringing her hands in agony of mind, she cried, "do, please, lord, come! do come! oh, dear lord jesus, do please come!" she continued in much distress, until i felt quite unequal to talk to her, and said, "my dear, shall i send for some one?" she replied, "oh, no, auntie; don't send for any one. the lord must do it all" (laying great stress on the _all_); "but do pray for me, that he will appear." her distress of mind was very great. no words or texts of scripture named gave her any comfort. i left the room for a short time, leaving her in the care of our dear nurse (of whom she was very fond), and on my return, found she had had a nice sleep. going up to her, she said, "how can i thank you enough?" i said, "don't say a word about that, dear. my earnest desire is, that you may get a word from the lord." her countenance looked so placid, and she said, "i have, auntie." i said, "is jesus precious to you as your saviour? can you trust him?" she replied, "yes. these words came--'fear not; i will be with you,' and i think he will. yes, his promises stand good. 'he'll never, no, never, no, never forsake.'" she then dozed again. i saw her lips moving, and caught the words, "with christ in the vessel i smile at the storm," having evidently been repeating that beautiful hymn of newton's, "begone unbelief, my saviour is near." after this she had a little time of peace. the next morning, on being asked if the lord had again given her comfort, "yes," she said; "he has promised that, when through fiery trials he'll cause me to go, he will be with me." darkness again took possession of her mind, and she was often saying, "oh, to be a castaway!" she said she would like her uncle to come, which he did. on his approaching the bed, she said, "oh, uncle, what will become of me if i am a deceiver? i shall be lost!" he took her hand, and said, "jesus came to save the lost, so you see, dear, you are one. 'the whole need not a physician, but those who are sick.'" after a few words, he engaged in prayer. she then dozed, and was never again so harassed by the enemy of souls. on friday morning she was much favoured with the lord's presence, and longed to "depart and be with christ," saying repeatedly, "do, dear lord jesus, take me to-day! i do so want to go!" i said, "we must wait his time." "yes," she replied- "till he bids, i cannot die; not a single shaft can hit till the god of love sees fit." her throat and breathing at this time were very bad, and she asked the doctor when he came if he could relieve her at all. he said he was afraid he could not, but it would not be long. after he was gone she again said, "i do so hope the lord will take me to-day. do come, lord jesus; do come! oh, how i long to go! what a glorious meeting it will be for me, if i am right!" then clasping her dear hands together, she said, with such a sweet smile as nurse and i shall never forget, "oh, blissful home! what a glorious meeting! i shall see christ in all his beauty!" in the afternoon her breathing altered, and she seemed gently passing away. looking up so sweetly, she said, "am i dying, auntie?" i answered, "yes, dear; it won't be long now. you want to go, don't you?" "oh, yes," she replied. her difficulty of breathing returned, and she suffered much through the night. in the morning she said, "you thought me dying yesterday, and the doctor too; but the dear lord did not, did he? it was not his time." she continued very ill through the day--scarcely able to speak. towards night she slightly rallied, and looking up at the clock, said, "oh, the night!" she had often during her illness dreaded the nights. i said, "you know that beautiful hymn, dear--'sun of my soul'?" she took it up, and said- "thou saviour dear, it is not night if thou be near; oh, may no earth-born cloud arise, to hide thee from thy servant's eyes," after which she did not say any more about the night. her dear pastor and others bade her "good-bye," but her breathing was too bad for her to speak, until about two o'clock, when she startled the dear friend who was sitting up and myself by turning round, calmly putting her hand in mine, and, with a kiss, said, "good-bye." then turning to mrs. t----, she did the same to her, and then very quietly remarked, "you don't hear it now, auntie?"--alluding to the rattles. i said, "no; the conflict will soon be over, darling." still, it was not yet ended--not until a quarter to four on the 8th of may, 1887, was her soul permitted to "depart and be with christ," whom she had longed to see in all his beauty. little by little. one step and then another, and the longest walk is ended; one stitch and then another, and the largest rent is mended; one brick upon another, and the highest wall is made; one flake upon another, and the deepest snow is laid. so the little coral-workers, by their slow but constant motion, have built those pretty islands in the distant, dark blue ocean; and the noblest undertakings man's wisdom hath conceived, by oft-repeated efforts have been patiently achieved. then do not look disheartened o'er the work you have to do, and say that such a mighty task you never can get through; but just endeavour, day by day, another point to gain, and soon the mountain which you feared will prove to be a plain. "rome was not builded in a day," the ancient proverb teaches; and nature, by her trees and flowers, the same sweet sermon preaches. think not of far-off duties, but of duties which are near; and having once begun to work, resolve to persevere. c. swain. flying foxes. among the many anomalies presented by nature, that of a flying mammal has seemed strikingly incongruous, and has always left an impression on the popular mind generally the reverse of the truth. the fox-bats are an example in point. superstition has gathered about these strange creatures the wildest fears; and their uncouth and weird looks have strengthened a foolish credence in the stories of the vampire. they, it was declared, settled at night upon the wearied sleeper, and sucked his life-blood, or with a malicious bite involved the souls of the virtuous in the terrors of their own lost estate. the examinations of the naturalist long ago put to flight these romantic tales; but in their haunts, among the woods of southern asia, in africa, australia, java, and sumatra, their black swarms and flying movements yet cause dread and disgust. the flying foxes are ranged under the order of the _cheiroptera_, or hand-winged mammals, and are grouped together in the sub-section of the fruit-eating bats, as distinguished from those feeding mostly upon insects. their depredations upon orchards and vineyards are notorious. sailing through the air at sundown, and guided by an acute sense of smell, they will enter the plantations containing some plant upon which the fruit has reached maturity, and, covering it in crowds, will revel in the delicious repast, leaving the tree or vine at dawn stripped of all its precious wealth. they fly rapidly, but never at any great height, and sometimes will traverse considerable spaces, migrating from island to island over intervening arms of the ocean. on the ground they are agile and curiously active. they climb trees with ease, and during the day hang by their hind limbs, their wing membrane wrapped around them, from the loftier boughs. so densely are they sometimes congregated that the tree seems a solid mass of black, motionless bags. the species is distributed over east india, and finds also a favourable habitation in madagascar. it lives in immense colonies, and its swarms have been compared with those of gnats, while the branches they infest sometimes break down with their great weight. they feed on dates, bananas, the guava fruit, and also eat insects, the young and eggs of birds, and apparently at times snakes. their flesh is edible, and esteemed immensely by natives, who catch them in nets in the trees, and kill them on the ground. in flight, they can be brought down by a blow delivered on the expanded arms, covered with the flying membrane (patagium), as these are very weak. this species is seen more often in captivity than any other; and brehm, from whose admirable thierleben these notes are taken, speaks with characteristic enthusiasm of his observations made upon one. the "fox" slept nearly all day, though regularly he devoted some time to the cleansing and preparation of his "flying machine," and occasionally bestirred himself for the enjoyment of a cherry or a sip of milk. at the approach of night he became restless and excited, stretched his wings, and vainly attempted to escape. he displayed temper, and would bite sharply any one whose familiarities he resented. the combats of these animals with one another are very relentless, and generally terminate with the death of one or both contestants. the head in these bats is long and pointed, the ears moderately large, the nose without the appendages seen in the insectivorous bats, and the jaws armed with incisors, canines, and molar teeth. they form in their habitat interesting spectacles; and their whirring progress through the air at night, or the pendent throngs they present by day, alike astonish the visitor to ceylon and india. the bats are naturally regarded as one of the most distinctly marked groups of animals; and among them the flying-foxes (_pteropidæ_) are easily identified. they have long been known in literature, and the ancient herodotus spoke of them in arabia, and said that the inhabitants protected themselves against them in dresses of leather. later classic authors referred to them, and many naturalists have in the east carefully observed their habits. [illustration: flying foxes.] killed by lightning. dear mr. editor,--as a warning to any of our young friends who, when they leave home to take part in the battle of life, may be thrown amongst revilers and blasphemers, i will relate a sad occurrence which took place in the next village to this on monday, june 25th, 1888. a club is held in the village of birdham, where this took place, and on the evening previous, being the sabbath evening, the stall-keepers, swinging boat proprietors, &c., were drinking at the village inn, and one of the company, a young man of twenty, was swearing and flourishing his hands over his head, saying he did not care for any one. god might strike him blind if he liked. the next day, about noon, a heavy thunderstorm burst over the village. this young man had gone into the field with the horse, a little boy being beside him, when a flash of lightning darted down, cut his hat to pieces, and left him a corpse. one ear was split, and one hand and the face were black. thus it was not long before god dealt with this young mocker in a manner more awful than he probably expected. this was so sad that it impressed many with solemn thoughts, and led to the following similar sad story being again related. some years since, in the next village, earnley, a man being accused of taking some money, declared that, if he had it, he hoped his legs and arms might be burned off. a storm arose, the lightning darted athwart the heavens, fell on the barn wherein he was, burned the barn, and his body was afterwards found with legs and arms burned off. this was related to me by a woman named shepherd, now living within a short distance of where the barn stood, and who saw it on fire. still another sad tale. on sunday last, four young men left bognor for selsey--a few miles' trip by boat on the sea. at selsey they took too much drink, and, on their return, the boat capsized, and they were in the water for an hour crying for help; but although many heard them one and two miles away--it being a still night--no one seems to have known whence the sounds came. thus all four sabbath-breakers perished. one of the poor fellows wore the knees of his trousers quite away in his attempts to climb on the overturned boat. a. e. p. _sidlesham._ p.s.--selsey also joins this village. i saw the boat rowing towards it about half-past four. ["the wages of sin is death." reader, how are you living? how shall you die, and where shall you go? remember that all who are out of christ are exposed to the wrath of god, while all who, by faith, flee to him for mercy, are saved from the wrath to come. beware of mocking god, of despising his word, and of desecrating his day. "the way of transgressors is hard," but "whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sin shall find mercy."--ed.] the highest visible form of christian life is self-denial for the good of others. an aged pilgrim's history. an aged pilgrim of seventy-two years, recently made a pensioner of our society, has lately come under our notice, and as an example of courageous faith, it may interest our readers and others to know something of this poor old man. having faithfully served our country for fourteen years as a soldier in the 14th light dragoons, and having been severely wounded during the crimean war, in which he served in all the special engagements, he was paid off as unfit for further service, receiving a pension for only ten years, as he was unable to complete the full term of service (twenty-one years) which would have entitled him to a pension for life. after leaving the army he worked as a labourer, whenever he could find employment, and was brought to a saving knowledge of the lord jesus christ about twenty years ago, after which he was soon engaged in carrying heavy loads at cotton's wharf, in tooley street, london. after seventeen years of this work, he one day, unhappily, stumbled whilst carrying a load, and fell backwards some distance, the back of his head being split open. this brought about paralysis on the left side, and some two years afterwards it resulted in the loss of his sight. for three years he has been stone blind, and has suffered at times most acutely from pain in the head; but his indomitable energy, and strong faith in his "dear heavenly father," have kept him from falling to the level of a pauper; and rather than gravitate to the condition of an inmate of one of our unions, he has bravely endeavoured to make a living by playing a musical instrument in the streets. to add to his affliction, his wife, in 1883, was run over in the streets of london, and died in an hospital under amputation of both legs. thus, left without relation or friend, this poor blind man had to face this cold and unheeding world alone; and yet he is never alone, for his faith is so bright that he goes out, walking long distances, trusting to god to preserve him in his way. on one occasion, he was taken by a constable before the lord mayor of london, charged with playing an instrument in the streets, and having been questioned as to what he did, answered that he played a small instrument by which to keep himself. the lord mayor asked him to play a tune, which he accordingly did, and he at once took the part of this aged pilgrim, gave him five shillings, and reprimanded the constable for arresting the poor old man, and told him to look after those who were doing really wrong things in the streets, and not to bring poor, helpless men to him like that. this poor man, hearing the severe words addressed to the constable by his lordship, immediately began to beg that no punishment might be meted out, quietly remarking, "my lord, very likely he is a young constable, and has not quite learnt his duties. don't punish him; don't punish him." thus did he show the true christian spirit of love for his enemies. to illustrate the marvellous energy of will and courage of heart in this old veteran, on one occasion he was badly bitten by a ferocious dog, which left a terrible wound on his leg. no sooner had it got well enough for him to crawl, than he walked four miles in awful agony to see one of his friends, taking four and a half hours over the journey. such men are worthy of our support. our readers may ask, "how is it that government does not look after this old soldier?" but it is explained when we learn that he married "off the strength," _i.e._, without leave, and so is now left to do the best he can, unaided by his country. from town to town this poor man, literally a pilgrim, wanders, seeking the "wherewithal" to keep body and soul together. often would he have been starved, but for friends whom the good lord has raised up for him in the most unexpected ways. wherever he goes he carries the savour of christ with him, and boldly witnesses for his saviour, abominating the awful language and behaviour which he has to put up with in the houses where he lodges for the night; and has even been pushed and struck because he has spoken out against the evil by which he was surrounded. thus actually from day to day dependent upon his "father in heaven" for his "daily bread," he lives by faith; and thank god we know that, not having "his portion in this life," there awaits him in due time the sweet rest of heaven, where he shall be for ever "comforted" and owned in his father's kingdom.--h. j. k., in _quarterly record of the aged pilgrims' friend society_. a model prayer-meeting. it was a cheerful chapel above ground, filled with seats, wide enough apart to kneel down between them, if one wanted to do so, well warmed and well ventilated. at the time fixed for the meeting, first of all came brother _punctuality_. his watch and actions are always regulated to the minute by the town clock. once he and the minister came together. they waited one minute for others who came not, and then each prayed, talked, and sang. they spent fifteen minutes thus, and then left. on their way home they met the rest coming, who said, "why, are we not to have a meeting?" "oh, _we_ have had one," was the reply. that cured all, except the most incorrigible, of their delay. some people are chronically tardy. you can never change them. they are always too late for work, too late for dinner, too late for church. what a mercy if they are not at last among those who come when the door is shut! they disturb the devotions of others. not so brother punctuality; only he has one troublesome fault. when the hour is done he opens that inevitable hunting-watch of his, and snaps it to with such a nervous jerk that it says very plainly to all, "now, shut up and go home." this is bad enough in ordinary and dull times, but when hearts are warm, and prayers are strong, and the current of love flows fully, let there then at least be a little more latitude. congenial with this brother is brother _promptitude_. when the leader opens the meeting, he is always ready to rise. he shudders at these pauses. they are to him as ice-cakes clogging the current of love, hindering the wheels of prayer. yet he would not rush things. i have known him to count _seven_, the mystic number of the scripture, and then, if no one rose to speak or pray, he did. he is thus a minute man, ready for action in a minute, and hating to lose the minutes. slower natures than his complain that he does not give them time to think. no matter; they may learn at last not to be so slow. in the other seat sits brother _brevity_. he has something to say, and having said it he sits down. when some overstocked divine or some thin-laid layman drags wearily along with a chain of dull platitudes, he is very twitchy, wondering why people will waste so much good breath and use so many poor words in saying nothing. brother _pointedness_ deeply sympathises with him. he wants to see people take good aim at the mark, and hit it--not try to see how near they can come and not do it. brother _round-the-circle_ greatly distresses him, who, if he has a fact, an incident, or an illustration, has so many minor details to dwell upon that he smothers the infant-truth under his mass of old clothes.--_selected._ [perhaps this curious sketch may yield useful hints to some who read it.--ed.] generosity and love. the late duke of portland was a nobleman who contrived to pass through life without much noise, but reaped happiness and respect in abundance, and, while gratifying his taste for rural occupation, conferred the most lasting benefits on the country. the following, among many stories, is told of him:-the duke discovered that one of his tenants, a small farmer, was falling, year after year, into arrears of rent. the steward wished to know what was to be done. the duke rode to the farm, saw that it was rapidly deteriorating, and the man, who was really an experienced and industrious farmer, totally unable to manage it, from poverty. in fact, all that was on the farm was not enough to pay the arrears. "john," said the duke, as the farmer came to meet him, as he rode up to the house, "i want to look over the farm a little." as they went along, "really," said he, "everything is in very bad case. this won't do. i see you are quite under it. all your stock and crops won't pay the rent in arrear. i will tell you what i must do. i must take the farm into my own hands. you shall look after it for me, and i will pay you your wages." of course, there was no saying nay. the poor man bowed assent. presently there came a reinforcement of stock, then loads of manure, at the proper time seed, and wood from the plantations for repairing gates and buildings. the duke rode over frequently. the man exerted himself, and seemed really quite relieved from a load of care by the change. things speedily assumed a new aspect. the crops and stock flourished; fences and out-buildings were put into good order. in two or three rent-days it was seen by the steward's books that the farm was making its way. the duke on his next visit said-"well, john, i think the farm does very well now. we will change again. you shall once more be tenant, and, as you now have your head fairly above water, i hope you will be able to keep it there." the duke rode off at his usual rapid rate. the man stood in astonishment; but a happy fellow he was when, on applying to the steward, he found that he was actually re-entered as tenant to the farm, just as it stood in its restored condition. we will venture to say, however, that the duke himself was the happier man of the two. he that doeth good enriches his own heart with unspeakable blessings. "better a fountain in the heart than a fountain by the way." w. h. answer to bible enigma. (_page 165._) "_praise._"--psalm cl. 1. p is in peter, but not in aaron. r is in pharaoh, but not in matthew. a is in adam, but not in moses. i is in israel, but not in abdon. s is in jesus, but not in daniel. e is in eden, but not in spirit. joseph hugh willerton (aged 6 years). _corby, grantham._ [a correct answer has also been received from maggie nunn, aged nine years.--ed.] zoar chapel sunday school, hand cross. the sunday school children of the above place of worship met together for their annual meeting on sunday afternoon, may 20th, when our kind friend, mr. daw, of hailsham, presided. the service commenced by our old friend, mr. izard, giving out hymn 59, clifton hymnal, after which mr. daw commenced by saying, as there were a goodly number of friends present, as well as children, he would try to make it as much like an ordinary service as possible. he then read 1 samuel iii., then engaged in prayer, after which hymn 212 was sung, the last line of the chorus being, "what can we give in exchange for the soul?" he said that, when he was about one year old in divine things, he thought, if that text was written up on his house in big letters, so as people could see it as they passed by, it would convert them, and he actually went out one day to see if there was a place where it might be put up. that was when he had been quickened into life about one year. he said he did not feel very old now. he remembered asking some little girls if they could tell him how old he was, and one little girl said thirteen; and he thought she was very near right, for he felt sure he was not more than fourteen now. he then said he should preach a short sermon from 1 samuel iii., and the last clause of the eighth verse--"and eli perceived that the lord had called the child." he said he had tried to preach to children before, but this was to be a special trial, so we should see how he got on. he said, in referring to the lord calling samuel, that his mother hannah was of a sorrowful spirit, and prayed and made vows to the lord that, if he would give her a man-child, she would give him to the lord all the days of his life; and the lord granted her request, and she called his name samuel, because she had asked him of the lord. so when samuel was very young, she took him up to the temple; and one night, when he lay asleep, the lord called him, and samuel thought it was eli that called him. but eli said, "i called thee not; go and lie down again." but the lord called him the second and third time, then "eli perceived that the lord had called the child." the lord called david to be king--the most unlikely one of the lot, for all his brothers passed before samuel first. great, strong men they were, to all appearance--far before david. but no; david, the shepherd boy, was chosen to be king, for god often "chooses the foolish things to confound the wise." he said he used to be a teacher in the sunday school, and he often wished he was one now, for he thought he liked talking to children best; and when the lord called him out to preach, one of his greatest trials was, to give up the sunday school, for he thought out of his class the lord had called four boys and four girls. some boys and girls, after they have been to a sunday school a few times, will return home and tell a fine tale to their mother, and say, "i shall not go to that school any more." "oh, why not?" "because they don't give such good treats and prizes as they do at other schools." but their mothers never ought to encourage that. he once saw a girl at polegate station, and he thought, "that girl is going off to service." he was sure of it; and whenever he saw a girl at the station, with a box or two and a parcel, going off to service for the first time, he generally said to himself, "that girl will have a good cry to-night, when she gets into bed." so when he saw this girl, he thought he would write her a letter; and he did so--that being five years ago--and he saw her only last week, when she said she had cause to thank him for that letter, and he quite hoped that letter was the means used by the lord in calling her. then he said he wanted to say a word to parents and teachers. he did not know who he had before him, because he did not live in the neighbourhood. if he did, he should know more about them, and if the children did not come to school pretty regularly, he should often call on them to know the reason. he said he did not wish to offend them, but he often thought that parents sent their children to school, and never went to the house of god themselves. and as to teachers--what a self-denying work theirs was! if there were any that needed sympathy, it was the teachers; and if they could not get it from the parents, they would draw it from some other source, for we read, "cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days" (eccles. xi. 1). the children then repeated several hymns and passages of scripture, which they had learned for the occasion, after which mr. daw proceeded to distribute the prizes--which consisted of bibles, hymn-books, and other good books--those receiving the best who had the most marks for attendance and good behaviour. in presenting a nice bible to a little girl, he made the remark, "i have a bible in my pocket which is not quite so good-looking as yours, but i prize it beyond any bibles here, because it was given to me by a girl that is now in heaven; and there are marks in it, against various portions of scripture, which had been blessed to her through my ministry." as they came forward to receive their prizes, he addressed each one in a very affectionate manner. he, indeed, had a kind word for all. he also wished each one to learn a hymn, which he named. after singing another hymn, mr. daw concluded with prayer. "am i called, and can it be? has my saviour chosen me? vilest of the vile am i; can i lift my thoughts so high?" a reader. zion chapel, trowbridge. the sixtieth anniversary of the sabbath school in connection with this place was held on sunday, june 24th. special sermons were preached by mr. b. c. turner, of southport, and the scholars sang specially-selected hymns in the evening, at which service the chapel was crowded. the text in the morning was ruth iii. 1, and in the evening mr. turner spoke from ecclesiastes xi. 6, "in the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand." in discoursing from these words, he spoke many encouraging words to the teachers and parents, and gave good advice to the children. after the sermon, three girls and four boys were promoted to the senior bible classes, each of whom was presented with a handsomely-bound bible, and mr. turner spoke a few appropriate words to them. the collections at the two services amounted to £15 1s. 3d. the school now numbers 240 scholars, forty teachers, and two superintendents. bible subjects for each sunday in august. aug. 5. commit to memory prov. iv. 1. aug. 12. commit to memory prov. iv. 14. aug. 19. commit to memory prov. iv. 25. aug. 26. commit to memory prov. iv. 18. what could jesus do more than die for us? and what can we do less than live to him? our bible class. the parable of the labourers in the vineyard. (matthew xx. 1-16.) jesus had left galilee for the last time, and he and his disciples were on their way to jerusalem, where he would be condemned to die. they had rested in a house on the road, and he had embraced and blessed the little children that were brought to receive his gracious touch. he had been met by a rich young man as he resumed his journey--one who wanted eternal life, but sorrowfully left the only giver of that blessing because he could not bear to give up his wealth to follow the meek and lowly saviour; and as the youth turned away, jesus had said to the disciples, "children, how hard is it for them that trust in riches to enter into the kingdom of god" (mark x. 24). a conversation followed (matt. xix.), in the course of which peter asked, "what reward shall we have, who have forsaken all, and followed thee?" to which question the saviour replied by a promise and a parable--the promise that all his followers should gain a hundred-fold by their losses for his sake, and inherit everlasting life; but he added, "many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first," to illustrate which fact, he told them a parable. "for the kingdom of heaven is like unto a householder, who went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard." with those whom he first engaged, a penny a day was the wages agreed upon, and they went at once to work. a penny a day, young friends, was not such a little as it seems to us. it meant about eightpence halfpenny in our money, and would buy a great deal more than we can get for eightpence halfpenny now. you could live, in a careful way, at "an inn" for a great deal less than a penny a day; and when the good samaritan took the wounded jew to one of these humble places of rest and refreshment, he gave the innkeeper "two pence" to take care of his guest, and provide for him, and promised to pay any more expense should it be incurred. the terms were very fair and liberal for a full day's work; but more hands were needed, and the master went out again at nine o'clock in the morning, then at noon, at three in the afternoon, and yet again at the eleventh hour, five p.m.; and finding still some unemployed, he asked, "why stand ye here all the day idle?" "because," said they, "no man hath hired us." "go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive." such were the terms on which all except the earliest labourers were hired. the working day of twelve hours is ended; the men are called to receive payment; but, strange to say, the latest comers are first called, and each one receives the full amount--one penny. the whole-day workers are now dissatisfied. they have got all they were promised, but why should those latecomers have as much as themselves, who had been working all the time? "friend," said the good man of the house to one of the complainers, "i do thee no wrong. didst thou not agree with me for a penny? is it not lawful for me to do what i will with mine own? is thine eye evil, or envious, because i am good?" "so," said the lord jesus, "in my kingdom the last shall be first, and the first last." and has not he, who is your lord and master, a right to do what he will with his own? the disciples were thinking that jesus would reign on earth, and make the jews a free, prosperous nation, and they, as his first followers, wanted to be great men in his kingdom (see verses 20, 21 of this chapter). christ, on the other hand, was thinking of a spiritual, heavenly kingdom, where he would reign for ever, ruling his people's hearts by love. in this kingdom god has always blessed his servants according to his own good pleasure. abraham, isaac, david, and a host of others who served the lord for many years, looked forward to dwelling with him in blessedness for ever. the dying thief, whose day of life was spent in worse than idleness, in the service of sin and satan, received, in answer to his earnest prayer, the wonderful assurance, "verily i say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." prophets laboured, and apostles reaped the fruit of those labours (john iv. 37, 38). john the baptist was great and honoured as the herald of jesus, yet the least one in christ's kingdom is equal with, and in some respects even greater, than he (matt. xi. 11). the gentiles, in time past, were not a saved people; but now multitudes of them have been gathered to jesus, and become the people of god, while the jews (god's ancient people) have to a great extent despised the gospel, and been shut out from its blessings; so the last have been first, and the first have become last. among the twelve apostles, andrew first found jesus, and brought peter, his brother, to him; but peter afterwards became far more noted than andrew, especially on the day of pentecost, and in his epistles; while paul, the very last of all, the persecutor of christians, became the first and greatest of the apostolic witnesses of jesus. and paul took no credit to himself for this. "not i, but the grace of god which was with me," he delighted to say was the cause of all the good works done; and when he joyfully looked forward to the crown of righteousness laid up for him, he gladly adds, "and not for me only, but also for all them that love his appearing." this parable is quite different from the one in matthew xxi., where faithful and unfaithful servants are contrasted. all the labourers in this vineyard worked. none are accused of laziness or unfaithfulness. none are blamed for the way in which their work was done. those who laboured longest were still well paid, while the late comers were rewarded by sheer generosity. so, in the kingdom of god's grace, each favoured servant of the lord "knows in all his heart and soul that not one thing has failed of all the good things the lord his god promised him." he never gives less than he said he would. he often gives more than we either ask or think. does the end of the day in this parable mean the evening of life, or the end of the world? and did jesus represent the feelings of some of his people when dying, or at the last day? oh, no! i do not for one moment think so. but you know we sometimes show a pouting, cross little child a picture of one like itself, to let it see how ugly it looks; and in the same way jesus, by this parable, taught his disciples and us that when we are jealous and envious of others, we are finding fault with god's kindness and bounty. and let us remember that, whether we are rich or poor--whether our labours in christ's cause seem very successful or not--yet, if we have been called to serve him at all, the highest honour has been put upon us. far better to be employed in his vineyard than to be loitering outside; infinitely preferable to be "a doorkeeper in his house, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness." his "ways are ways of pleasantness," and "in keeping his commandments there is great reward." may we be his servants, loving and faithful, and receive at last that great reward which none but jesus can deserve, "the free gift of god, eternal life," through jesus christ our lord and saviour; and our song of humble gratitude will be, "not unto us, o lord, not unto us, but unto thy name be glory, for thy mercy and truth's sake. amen." our next subject will be, _ananias and sapphira_ (acts v.). your affectionate friend, h. s. l. prize essay. contrast the lesson taught by the conduct of solomon and of rehoboam, at the commencement of their reign. the chief lesson taught by the conduct of solomon at the commencement of his reign is, humility. we know this by his choice when god asked him, in a dream, "what shall i give thee?" he made answer that the people he had to rule were as the dust of the earth for multitude, and that he had no more power to act as a king than a child. he therefore wished for wisdom to help him to do right, and for god to be with him, as he had been with his father david. this incident shows the gracious nature of solomon's character; and the reward that god gave him ought to make us remember that "he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." with rehoboam it was different. the lesson taught is, that his conduct should be shunned by all. shortly after he was made king, those who had lived the greater part of solomon's reign came and asked him if he would be kind to them, and ease the servitude that his father had put upon them. he sought to man instead of to god, and chose the counsel of foolish young men. after the people had been kept waiting three days, he told them that he would add to the yoke that they formerly had borne, and as his father had "chastised them with whips," so would he "with scorpions." at the time that rehoboam made that rough and haughty answer, he probably had forgotten that the majority of the people had most power, but so it was here, for ten of the twelve tribes revolted. the first lesson taught by solomon, and the second taught by rehoboam, contrast deeply with each other. the first, if imitated by every one, would work a wonderful change in the world. there would be fewer quarrels, fewer wars, and, in a word, less sin. the second is the cause of many evils with which the earth abounds. the former the lord is delighted with; the latter is an abomination. if jesus christ was once "made lower than the angels" for our sakes, surely we ought to put away all haughtiness, and remember that we are on a level with our fellow-creatures by creation, and that all who are saved are saved by free grace, through faith in christ. william ernest cray (aged 11 years). _pearl cottage, carlyle road, forton, gosport, hants._ [good essays have been received from jane bell, laura creasey, e. b. knocker, alice creasey, b. stroud, annie judd, alice pease, g. a. osmotherly, e. saunders, m. e. denly.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "the life of george whitfield." the subject for october will be, "charity," as commended in the scriptures; and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of foxe's "book of martyrs." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of september.] the cross is the distinct announcement to us of that wonderful law, that "through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of heaven." perfection through suffering--that is the doctrine of the cross. there is love in that law. interesting items. on july 15th, after two sermons by mr. hull, at rochdale road, manchester, £44 9s. 5½d. was collected for the sunday school there. sale of pictures.--the _chester chronicle_ states authoritatively that lord tollemache has sold two of his pictures by sir joshua reynolds for £15,000 each, and one by gainsborough for £14,000. in addition to the present from a london banker of 10,000 books, a lady in the city has sent a van load, about one and a half tons, to the mariners' mission, burdett road, london, e., for free distribution among sailors and others. low rental for land.--eight hundred acres of arable land in the isle of sheppey, well known for its productive nature, have just been let to a new tenant at the unprecedentedly low price of 1s. 2d. an acre. the tithe on the land is 12s. an acre. on june 1st, 1883, a toad was placed in a cavity hollowed in a large stone, and the opening was sealed up with cement. on the 1st of june, this year, the stone was broken open, and the toad was found alive, and strangely enough, it had grown considerably. mr. john white, of nuneaton, warwickshire, erected a highly horrible scarecrow in a field. three weeks afterwards he went to inquire after its health, and found that a robin had built her nest in one of the pockets, and a tomtit had utilized a sleeve for the same purpose. a maiden session.--there were no prisoners for trial at cambridgeshire quarter sessions, july 13th, 1888. mr. sperling, the chairman, who was presented with a pair of white gloves, said that, during an experience of over thirty years, he did not remember a previous maiden session. the dundee sealing steamer _esquimaux_ arrived the other week at st. john's, newfoundland, from seal fishing, with a catch of 23,000 seals. the _aurora_, another dundee vessel, followed, with a cargo of 25,000 seals. the seal fishing off the newfoundland coast has this season been a great success. artificial ivory.--a substance resembling ivory of creamy whiteness and great hardness is made from good potatoes washed in diluted sulphuric acid, then boiled in the same solution until they become solid and dense. they are then washed free from the acid and slowly dried. this ivory can be dyed, and turned, and made useful in many ways. dr. gordon stables, the well-known author, spends the summer in going about the country in a caravan. his handsome home on wheels is called "the wanderer." it is drawn by two capital carriage horses, and is fitted in most luxurious fashion. he takes a man-servant with him, and has a tricycle attached to the vehicle. he stops at night by the roadside. new gold field.--a rich gold field has been discovered between the two rivers, lava and papanahoni, in surinam. it is an open question whether this district of 20,000 to 25,000 square kilometres belongs to france or holland. m. condreau, the french traveller, who has been closely investigating the district, considers that it will be as productive as the gold-fields of australia and california. mr. george le fèvre, of the huguenot church at canterbury cathedral, writes thus--"a large and valuable oil painting of a scene in the history of the huguenots has been presented to the french church. the subject is exceedingly appropriate this year, being the tercentenary celebration of the defeat of the spanish invasion of england. the picture has been hung up in that part of the crypt known as the chantry of the black prince, and has been much admired by tourists, who are now visiting in considerable numbers." by the steamship _oonah_, which is the latest addition to the fleet of the tasmanian steam navigation company, there arrived at melbourne on saturday, april 28th, from tasmania, the largest shipment of fruit for the london market which has left the australian colonies--about 13,000 bushels of choice apples. the fruit will be transhipped into the cool chamber of the p. and o. mail boat _oceana_, leaving on the 4th of may, and will be followed by another shipment by the _britannia_, leaving on the 18th of may. this, we understand, closes the operations of the shippers for this season. should the outcome of these shipments be as encouraging as the telegraphic news already received seems to indicate, there is every prospect of a very large export trade in this industry being established. we are informed that the parcel now arrived could have been very much increased had there been more room in the cool chamber of the _oceana_. no doubt next season all the boats of the p. and o. and orient companies will make arrangements to take fruit, so that shipments can be forwarded every week.--_launceston (tasmania) examiner, may 2nd._ further particulars of the floods in mexico show them to have been of a most serious character. it is stated that, in the town of silao, where the river overflowed its banks on the 18th of june, 1,500 persons perished. at leon, over 2,200 houses were destroyed. in some districts it is declared that bodies were floating about on the waters as thickly as driftwood. dread of comets.--a story is related showing the dread with which comets were regarded in the early part of the last century. a renowned astronomer predicted that a comet would appear on wednesday, october 14th, 1712, and that the world would be destroyed by fire on the friday following. the astronomer was correct, so far as the comet was concerned. a number of persons got into the boats and barges on the thames, thinking the water the safest place. a captain of a dutch ship threw all his powder into the river, that his ship might not be endangered. a number of clergymen, it is said, were ferried over to lambeth, to request that proper prayers might be prepared, there being none suitable in the church service. sir gilbert heathcote, at that time head director of the bank, issued orders to all the fire offices in london, requiring them to keep a good look-out, and to have a particular eye on the bank of england. a millionaire inventor.--we have more than once pointed out how simple inventions (observes a writer in _invention_) often realize large sums for the fortunate inventor. here is another illustration. the discovery of the perforated substance used for bottoming chairs and for other purposes has made its inventor a millionaire. george yeaton, the inventor in question, was a poor yankee cane-seater in vermont. he first distinguished himself by inventing a machine for weaving cane, but he made no money out of it, as some one stole his idea, and had the process patented. after a number of years experimenting, yeaton at last hit upon this invention, which consists of a number of thin layers of boards of different degrees of hardness glued together to give pliability. yeaton went through a number of bitterly contested law-suits before he got his invention patented. he was wise in not paying others to manufacture his device. he formed a company, and to-day he has a plant valued at half a million dollars, and is in the receipt of a princely annual revenue derived from this invention. the fastest train in the world.--the fastest train in the world is without doubt the "flying dutchman," which for many years has succeeded in knocking off the seventy-eight miles between london and swindon in an hour and twenty-seven minutes. this is at the rate of fifty-three miles an hour. exeter is 194 miles from paddington, and is reached in four and a quarter hours, or an average pace throughout, including stoppages, of forty-five miles and a half per hour. the prince of wales has made some remarkably quick journeys on the great western. not very long ago the north western took him from manchester to london in three hours and fifty-five minutes, but the great western had previously beaten this by conveying him from london to swansea (216 miles) in three hours and fifty-three minutes, the average speed throughout that remarkable journey being almost fifty-six miles an hour. english trains are much quicker than those of the continent. the speed of the american expresses is from thirty-five to forty miles an hour. the chemin de fer du nord runs its expresses at an average of thirty-seven, and the paris and mediterranean at thirty-four miles an hour. some of the german expresses cover thirty-six miles an hour. a terrible situation.--mr. ballou, in his recent wanderings under the southern cross, has found one more unpleasant item for reptile literature. in sydney he heard the following snake story, the facts of which occurred not long before, near the town of parramatta. in the family of a settler, who resided some half a league from the town, there was an invalid daughter, she being of an extremely nervous temperament. she was sleeping, one summer afternoon, in a hammock swung between two supporting standards in the shade of the piazza, when she was suddenly awakened by feeling something cold and moist clinging about her throat. she put her hand to the spot, and clasped the body of a snake just at the back of its head, and, with a horrified cry, wrenched with all her strength to pull it away. this was the first instinctive action of the moment, but so great was her terror that she speedily lost all consciousness of the situation. her hand, however, still grasped the snake where she had first seized upon it, and with such a convulsive force that the creature was rendered powerless. the cry of the terrified girl brought the father from within the house, who instantly came to her relief; but in the fit which her fright had induced, her hand slowly contracted about the creature's throat with a force which she could not possibly have exerted when awake, and before her fingers were unclasped, by the aid of a bit of hammock cord, the reptile was completely strangled. fortunately, the creature had not bitten the girl before she seized it, and after that it was unable to do so. it is said to have been four feet long, and of a poisonous species. [illustration: "i gave myself up to reading the bible." (_see page 194._)] letter by a dying soldier. my dear wife,--before these lines reach you, grim death will have swept me off the stage of time. no more shalt thou repose in these arms; no more shall these eyes behold thy lovely person, or gaze with delight on thee or my dear infants. yesterday we had a bloody and obstinate fight, in which we had great numbers killed and wounded. i received one ball in my leg, another in my breast. i am now so weak with the loss of blood that i can hardly write these few lines as the last tribute of my unchanging love to thee. the surgeons inform me that three hours will be the utmost i can survive. alas! too true was the dire presage in my mind that we should never meet again on this side eternity. on our passage here, i gave myself up to reading the bible, it being the only book i was possessed of. the almighty was pleased to draw my heart to him by the sweet attractions of his grace, and at the same time to enlighten my mind. there is in the regiment a corporal who is a christian. i had no knowledge of him till one night when i had been earnest in prayer to god to guide me in the way of peace. during my sleep i dreamed of this same man, and was directed to him by name, samuel pierce. the dream made so strong an impression on my mind that the next morning i inquired if there was such a person in the regiment, and was greatly astonished to find him. i told him my dream, with which he was much pleased. we soon contracted a strong friendship, and he was pleased to explain to me the amazing love of god in giving his son jesus christ to bleed and die for sinners. he unfolded to me the mysteries of salvation, the nature of the new birth, and the great necessity of holiness of heart and life. in short, he became my spiritual father, and to him, under god, i owe much that i am now acquainted with. soon after we landed, god was pleased to speak peace to my soul. oh, the bliss, the unutterable joy, that i then felt, through the blood of the lamb! how i longed to tell the whole world what jesus had done for me! but how did i long for thee, my love, to taste and know the love of god in christ jesus! i would have given the world to have been with thee, to have told thee of "the pearl of great price." and as we shall never meet more in this vale of tears, this is my dying wish and advice--read the bible and good books, frequent the preaching of the gospel, and the lord will guide thee in his way. and oh, endeavour to bring up the dear little ones in the fear of god. oh, never fix thine heart upon the vain and unsubstantial things of this world! heaven and the love of god are the only things that demand our hearts, or are worthy of engrossing them. i have been a worthless husband to thee, and a vile rebel against my god. "god be merciful to me a sinner!" i die in peace. i die in a full assurance of eternal glory. a few moments and my soul shall be ranged in the "general assembly of the church of the first-born who are written in heaven." and now, my dear infants, the god who blessed jacob and joseph will bless you. seek him, and he will be found of you. call upon him, and he will hear and bless you. learn, then, my dear children, when you grow up, to seek for permanent happiness in god through a crucified redeemer. "the world recedes, it disappears; heaven opens on my eyes, my ears with sounds seraphic ring. lend, lend your wings; i mount, i fly! 'o grave, where is thy victory? o death, where is thy sting?'" dear wife, more would i say, but life ebbs out apace. bright angels stand around the gory turf on which i lie, ready to escort me to the arms of jesus. bending saints reveal my shining crown, and beckon me away. yea, methinks my jesus bids me come. adieu, adieu! john randon. a hopeful case. being called to preach the word in a parish where there is no resident minister, it frequently falls to my lot to visit those who are afflicted. a singular instance, both of ignorance and mercy, appeared in the character of a person almost unknown to me till the following circumstance took place. a poor woman, about the middle of august last, was taken very ill with pleurisy, and was much alarmed. this being the sabbath evening, she sent for one of the people who usually attend my preaching to come and read with her. he accordingly went, and she was much pleased with what he read. before he left her, she solicited him to ask me to come and see her. being out preaching, upon my return home i met this person, who told me the request of the poor woman. i immediately went, and found her in a helpless, miserable state, both as to body and soul. her husband being gone to harvest, she was left without money to procure any of the comforts of life. the marks of poverty appeared in every part of the habitation, and the poor creature laid stretched out upon a bed of sorrow, being in a languishing state through the violence of the fever. after condoling with her for a few minutes upon her external situation, i began to converse with her pretty freely upon the more important affairs belonging to her never-dying soul. the first topic of conversation was upon man as a sinful creature, and the enmity of the heart in the unconverted. i endeavoured to show that, although some might be a little more refined as to gross acts of immorality, yet by nature we "are all the children of wrath even as others." i next spoke of salvation by jesus christ, that it was all of grace. the woman listened to every word i uttered. the tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and at last she said, "i know nothing of the man of whom you have been speaking," immediately adding, "i was never brought up in the way of religion--never taught to know a letter of a book, nor yet attend any place of worship." after i had engaged in prayer with her, i left her. the next day i made her another visit, and found the fever increased, the cough very troublesome, and the pain in her side very acute. i began to discourse upon the suitableness, the ability, and willingness of jesus to save perishing sinners, and then she put this question--"and do you think, sir, he will save such a wretch as i am?" i observed, "the promise runs thus, 'him that cometh unto me i will in no wise cast out,'" &c. her knowledge of divine things rapidly increased, and her earnest devotions seemed now to be the perpetual breathings of her soul. the third visit i made her, she lamented her former state of ignorance and sin, and expressed great fears lest her sins should be too enormous to be forgiven. the poor woman continued in this state about six weeks, soliciting the company of all christian friends to converse and pray with her. the last visit i made to her produced a very affecting scene, both to her and me. i talked to her as one actually dying, and prayed for her as one who must soon appear before the judge of all the earth. while i was engaged in prayer, she repeated the words after me in the most affecting manner, and after i had finished supplicating the father of mercies, she added, "oh, lord, hear! oh, lord, forgive such a wretch as i am!" a few hours after this, she breathed her last, without either sigh or groan. the great exhibition of 1851. of late years we have had in britain almost a surfeit of exhibitions, of one sort or another, chief among which have been the splendid series which so many witnessed at south kensington, and which have given to many of the inhabitants of these isles a far better ideal of the empire's resources than otherwise they would have had, besides having contributed not a little to the stimulation of commerce, while furnishing agreeable entertainment to the sightseer. that the day of the exhibition, as we understand the word, as an educational and profit-raising medium, is not yet gone, is proved by the holding of the irish, italian, and anglo-danish exhibitions in london this year, and the popularity of the more general display at glasgow, not to speak of minor shows which have found favour elsewhere. the forerunner of all these magnificent spectacles was the great exhibition of 1851, held in hyde park, on the initiative of the late prince consort, who borrowed the idea from the state-supported expositions at paris. the prince proposed that an exhibition of colossal proportions should be held in london, in a building specially designed for the purpose, and that it should be open to competitors from all nations, so as to form a veritable "world's fair." the scheme was entered into with alacrity by the public. all sorts of representative men cordially supported the prince. a big banquet was given by the lord mayor of london in the mansion house, on march 21st, 1850, to the municipal magnates of the kingdom, at which the success of the undertaking was practically assured; and later on a similar feast was given in the ancient city of york, at which the prince again eloquently and effectively pleaded for the accomplishment of the task to which he had set his hand. a royal commission was appointed to manage the undertaking. hyde park was fixed upon as the most appropriate site for the building, and sir joseph paxton, though not an architect, was honoured with instructions to design the fabric--that magnificent crystal palace, which was subsequently removed to a permanent and commanding position at sydenham, and which is familiar to every london resident and visitor. it was formed chiefly of iron and glass, being 1,848 feet long, 408 feet broad, and 66 feet high; crossed by a transept 108 feet high, and also 408 feet in length, for the purpose of enclosing and encasing a group of noble elms. within, the nave presented a clear, unobstructive avenue, from one end of the building to the other, 72 feet in span, and 64 feet in height. the wings, exterior to the centre or nave on each side, had also galleries the same height, the wings themselves being broken up into a series of courts each 48 feet wide. the number of columns used in the entire edifice was 3,230. there were 34 miles of gutter for carrying off the rain-water to the columns, which were hollow, and served as water-pipes; 202 miles of sash-bars, and 900,000 superficial feet of glass, weighing upwards of 400 tons. the building covered about 18 acres of ground, and, with the galleries, gave an exhibition surface of 21 acres, with eight miles of tables for laying out goods. the building cost £176,000; and though the plan was not accepted until the 26th of july, and the first column not fixed until two months later, the edifice was virtually completed by the 1st of the following january, on which date it was delivered over to the exhibition commissioners to be fitted up for its destined purpose. the crystal palace excited universal admiration for its wonderful combination of vastness and beauty, and when it was fully furnished, and opened to the public, on the 1st of may, 1851, the visitor felt as if he had entered a fairy-like scene of enchantment, a gathering-ground of grace, brightness, and delight. it was a splendid sunny morning, and the assembled multitude was brilliant in the extreme. the queen, accompanied by the prince consort, walked in procession through the immense aggregation of treasures, followed by an imposing array of eminent british and foreign notabilities. it has been truly said that within the giant palace of glass were then massed representatives of all the people and productions of the earth--a grand presentment of wealth, intelligence, and enterprise. there were over 17,000 exhibitors, some 3,000 of whom received medals of merit. the exhibition remained open until the 15th of october, altogether 144 days, during which it was visited by 6,170,000 persons. the greatest number present in any one day was 109,760, on october 8th. on one occasion 93,000 were within the palace at the same moment, which surpassed, it is said, in magnitude, any number ever assembled together under one roof in the world's history. the charges of admission to the great exhibition were practically the same as those obtained at the recent south kensington "shows," and the whole affair was so well managed and successful in every point that at its close a surplus of £150,000 remained, after paying all expenses. facts about ocean steamships. mr. john burns contributed to a recent number of _good words_ a paper entitled "something about the cunard line," which contains some interesting facts with regard to the equipment and working of ocean steamships. taking the _etruria_ as a sample of the present vessels of the cunard fleet, he states that her consumption of coal is 300 tons per day, or twelve tons per hour, or 466 lbs. per minute. for a single passage across the atlantic (which takes seven days) she requires the following provisions--12,550 lbs. fresh beef, 760 lbs. corned beef, 5 320 lbs. mutton, 850 lbs. lamb, 350 lbs. veal, 350 lbs. pork, 2,000 lbs. fresh fish, 600 fowls, 300 chickens, 100 ducks, 50 geese, 80 turkeys, 200 brace grouse, 15 tons potatoes, 30 hampers vegetables, 220 quarts ice-cream, 1,000 quarts milk, and 11,500 eggs. the groceries for the double voyage include 650 lbs. tea, 1,200 lbs. coffee, 1,000 lbs. white sugar, 2,880 lbs. moist sugar, 750 lbs. pulverized sugar, 1,500 lbs. cheese, 2,000 lbs. butter, 3,500 lbs. ham, and 1,000 lbs. bacon. the quantities of wines, spirits, beer, &c., put on board for consumption on the double voyage comprise--1,100 bottles of champagne, 850 bottles of claret, 6,000 bottles of ale, 2,500 bottles of porter, 4,500 bottles of mineral water, 650 bottles of various spirits. crockery is broken very extensively, being at the rate of 900 plates, 280 cups, 438 saucers, 1,213 tumblers, 200 wine glasses, 27 decanters, and 63 water bottles in a single voyage. the cunard ships, it is further stated, traverse yearly a distance equal to five times that between the earth and the moon. in the course of a year the fleet consumes 4,656 sheep, 1,800 lambs, and 2,474 oxen, besides 831,603 eggs; and among other articles of consumption are 1½ tons of mustard, 1¾ tons of pepper, 7,216 bottles pickles, 8,000 tins sardines, 15 tons marmalade, 22 tons raisins, currants, and figs, and so on through a long list, finishing with 930 tons potatoes, 24,075 fowls, 4,230 ducks, 2,200 turkeys, 2,200 geese, 31,312 tablets pears' soap, 3,484 lbs. windsor soap, 10 tons yellow soap. the coal burned during the year amounts to 356,764 tons, which, if built as a wall four feet high and one foot thick, would reach from land's end to john o' groats. orphan bess. i am sure that most of our young friends know the meaning of the word "orphan"; and perhaps among the numerous readers of the little gleaner are some that are orphans themselves. but if some of the younger ones do not understand what is meant by the word, we must tell them that, when children have lost both parents by death, we call them orphans. very sad indeed it is to lose both father and mother while young, for no earthly friend can really fill their place. it is of such a child that i am writing a few words, and i trust that our little readers will indeed feel thankful to god if he has spared them both parents, and granted them happy and comfortable homes. it is more than ten years ago since i first saw her whom i now call orphan bess, and her baby sister. the first great shadow had then fallen upon her home, and i had to attend the funeral. this was in march, 1878. a very pale, fragile child our little maid was then, and her baby sister was more delicate still. she then sat on the floor, wondering at the tears of her mother, frightened at the strange faces and people that came to bear her father away, and trying to still the baby, which was wailing in the saddest tones. oh, how unfit to be thrown on the world--the cold, rough world--without the strong arm of the father, and only the mother to shield! but a greater arm than the earthly father supported and maintained, and they were not left alone. a few months later the baby died, and bess and the mother were left again. years rolled on, and the mother and child struggled on together, and the promise of him who cares for the widow and fatherless was proved faithful and true in their needs. but a darker cloud than ever now came, when the mother laid down and died. ten years had rolled away, and in march, 1888, this great blow came upon bess. these years had made a great change in our little maid, and when we saw her on the day of the funeral she seemed much altered--still pale and thin, small and fragile, and very deaf. i have seen many affecting sights and many sorrowful cases in my journey through life, but as we stood around the grave of the departed mother and father of bess, in st. thomas's churchyard, at woolwich, on the 17th of march, 1888, i saw the saddest sight of all. the open grave, containing the remains of the father; the coffin ready to be lowered into it, containing the dead mother; and the pale, thin, deaf orphan, standing alone in the world. the blinding snow fell around, and the wind blew piercingly through the graveyard. a large crowd of strange faces, and the chief object of interest the orphan child. what wonder, then, that the child, frightened and trembling, should turn her face away from the coffin and crowd, and hide her sobs in the dress of a kind woman near? alone in the world now, yet not alone. the hymn commencing, "for ever with the lord," is sung softly, and as the strains are heard, we remember that "the lord liveth." though father and mother are dead, yet "the lord liveth," who has promised to look to the orphan, and whose eyes are ever upon the needy. what a position to occupy! no father, no mother, no home, unable to hear, a helpless orphan girl cast upon the world! the words of the poet came into my mind at the moment- "what is home without a mother? what are all the joys we meet, when her gentle smile no longer greets the coming of our feet?" i have omitted one matter, and that is, bessie's mother was my sister; and the thought came with power into my mind, while i stood at the grave, that while the lord blessed me with ability and strength, we could share our bread with bess sooner than see her want. father and mother may die, and they must die, but there is one that cannot alter and that cannot fail. i trust our young friends who read these few lines are interested in our little maid; and if any are living in st. leonards or hastings, they may sometimes see a thin, pale girl of twelve years, small for her age, with dark hair, cut short, sharp nose, and keen grey eyes. this is orphan bess. not without friends now, for the lord has already raised up kind friends and strong arms to help her, and made room for her in many hearts. may the lord show her further favour by granting her his grace is our sincere prayer, comfort her on earth "as a mother comforteth her children," and be her everlasting portion in heaven. gleaners, you that have fathers and mothers, remember they are your best earthly friends, and think of desolate bess. gleaners that are orphans, remember "the lord liveth," and that he careth for you. j. d. "mary had a little lamb." the well-known verses beginning, "mary had a little lamb," were founded on actual circumstances, and the heroine, mary, is still living. about seventy years ago she was a little girl, the daughter of a farmer in worcester county, massachusetts, united states. one spring, the farmer brought a feeble lamb into the house, and mary adopted it as her especial pet. it became so fond of her that it would follow her everywhere. one day, it followed her to the village school, and, not knowing what else to do with it, she put it under her desk and covered it with her shawl. there it stayed until mary was called up to the teacher's desk to say her lesson, and then the lamb walked quietly after her, and the other children burst out laughing, so the teacher had to shut up the little girl's pet in the wood-shed until school was over. soon after this, a young student, named john rollstone, wrote a little rhyme about mary and her lamb, and presented it to her. the lamb grew to be a sheep, and lived for many years, and when at last it died, mary grieved so much for it that her mother took some of its wool, which was "as white as snow," and knitted a pair of stockings for her to wear in remembrance of her darling. some years after the lamb's death, mrs. sarah hall, a celebrated woman, who wrote many books, composed some verses about mary's lamb, and added them to those written by john rollstone, making the complete rhyme as we know it. mary took such good care of the stockings made from her lamb's fleece that, when she was a grown-up woman, she was able to give one of them to a bazaar in boston. as soon as the fact became known that the stocking was made from the fleece of "mary's little lamb," every one wanted a piece of it; so the stocking was ravelled out, and the yarn cut into short pieces. each piece was tied to a card on which "mary" wrote her full name, and these cards sold so well that they brought the large sum of £28 towards the bazaar fund. lord, i have tried how this thing and that thing will fit my spirit. i can find nothing to rest on, for nothing here hath any rest itself. o centre and source of light and strength--o fulness of all things--i come to thee!--_arthur h. hallam._ under the london streets. it is true that there are tubes beneath the london streets, but with one exception, they are not used for the transmission of letters, but for telegrams only. this exception is a tube between euston station and the general post office, through which a few day mail-bags to and from towns on the london and north-western are sent. the post office authorities find that these tubes are quicker than carts, but their speed is not so great as is usually supposed. from seventeen to thirty-five miles an hour is the average, but with more powerful engines it is believed that eighty miles an hour could be attained. the longest tube in london is two miles three hundred and thirty-nine yards in length. originally there were only seventeen pneumatic tubes in operation, the longest being that which went to fenchurch street, namely, nine hundred and eighty yards. the second in length was that to leadenhall street--six hundred and fifty-nine yards. the diameter of the tubes varies from one and a half inches to two and a quarter inches. the telegrams are placed in little leather cases, called "carriers." the time taken in transmission to fenchurch street is, by atmospheric pressure, one minute five seconds; by suction the speed is somewhat slower--one minute twenty seconds. the steam engine used at the general post office is forty horse power. for sending one of the carriers from forty to fifty yards not more than four or five seconds is necessary. the most complete tubes in london are those under the streets between temple bar and the general post office, a distance of 1,333 yards. the tubes form what may be called a pneumatic railway, with an up and down line. in these tubes telegrams are sent which sometimes are not sent by electricity at all. thus, if any one wishes to wire from cheapside to the temple, his message is placed in a carrier and sent under the streets. sympathy. "_rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep._" when childhood's joyous voice resounds with innocent delight, check not the infant mirth, nor put those happy smiles to flight. add to the joy while it remains, for on in riper years those eyes, now beaming with delight, may be suffused with tears. when on the ocean's stormy deep the voyagers are tossed, and seem, in that one stormy hour, to think all hope is lost- if they secure the haven reach, and lose their fears and cares, while they rejoice their homes to gain, mingle thy joy with theirs. and is thy neighbour mourning now the loss of kindred dear? then give thy sympathy, and drop upon the grave a tear. or knowest thou an orphan, left to tread this world alone? speak words of comfort, lend thine aid, or take the wanderer home. tell of the loveliness and bloom of nature to the blind; tell of the joys of heaven, and thus shed light upon the mind. then sympathize with every one, and the commandment keep- "rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." m. e. c. forward into light and liberty. "jesus only." when father chiniquy reached his much-loved people, after he had left the church of rome, it was on a sabbath morning, and they were assembled for worship. the bishop had telegraphed to them to turn away their priest, but when they saw him, they received him joyfully, and crowded round him to know what the bishop had really said. entering the chapel, he told his large congregation how and why he was a priest no longer, assuring them that he would leave them, but not until they bade him depart. all were deeply affected, but no one spoke, and when he again appealed to them to bravely rise and tell him to go away, he saw their countenances beam with love and joy more eloquent than words; and when he offered to remain with them--the free christian minister of a christian people, united by the love of god and his word--they all arose in token of their approval, and a thousand people left the church of rome on that eventful day. and still the movement spread, till nearly all who had loved and followed him as he had gradually taught them the truths of the gospel, followed him seeking the full light and liberty of god's word, leading him, and all who heard of it, to exclaim, "this is the lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes." as might have been expected, they did not see everything at once. there was a splendid group of statues, representing the virgin mary learning to read at the feet of her mother, and before these statues both priest and people had often prayed. chiniquy longed to remove them, with the pictures and crosses which hung on the walls of the chapel, but was afraid to do it too quickly. one sunday, however, after preaching from the text, "thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image," he remained behind to pray, and, looking up at the images, he said, "my good ladies, you must come down from that high position. god almighty alone is worshipped here now. your reign has come to an end." a thin, strong, silken cord secured them on their pedestals. he cut the cord, and, as he expected, the very next sunday, when the people knelt to pray, the images gave a couple of jerks, and then fell down, and were smashed to fragments on the floor, the people laughing, and saying to one another, "how foolish to pray to these idols to protect us, when they cannot take care of themselves!" the other images, crosses, and pictures were soon cleared away. the most of the people soon learned to reject purgatory, but some still clung to their old belief, and chiniquy would not too suddenly disturb it. when "all souls' day" came round, and collections were usually made for those in purgatory, two boxes were provided--a white one to receive contributions for the widows and the fatherless children, and a black one for offerings for the dead. but those who put money into the black one were asked kindly to say how their gifts could be conveyed to their dead friends, as in every case he had yet heard of, the priests had kept them for their own bread and butter. a general smile followed that announcement, and thirty-five dollars were put into the white box for the living, and nothing at all into the black one for the dead. so, one by one, all the false doctrines of rome were renounced, and a few months after, six thousand were banded together under the name of "christian catholics." rome, however, would not thus easily lose so many of its children, and another bishop thought he would try to win them back again. he appointed a day to visit them, with a number of priests, and found a strong, large platform prepared for his reception, and a great number of people assembled together to see and hear. as he approached, the american flag was hoisted over the chapel, and the people shouted, "hurrah for the flag of the free and the brave!" this alarmed the priestly visitors, but chiniquy hastened to assure them that they would not be injured, but they, on the contrary, would be received in the most courteous way. the bishop then alighted from his carriage, the priests gathered round him, and his grand vicar told the people to kneel down and receive their bishop's benediction. no one moved. he repeated his request still more loudly, when some one answered, "do you not know, sir, that we no longer bend the knee to any man? it is only before god we kneel"; and all the people said, "amen." forbidding their own beloved pastor chiniquy to speak, the bishop then tremblingly addressed the crowd. he was evidently staggered by the people's courage. having abused the "wicked, rebellious priest" who had led them away from rome, he concluded by begging them to return to their holy mother church, and asked who would guide them in the ways of god if they forsook the church of their fathers? after a solemn silence, an old farmer, raising his bible over his head, exclaimed, "this bible is all we want to guide us in the ways of god. we do not want anything but the pure word of god to teach us what we must do to be saved. as for you, sir, you had better go away, and never come here any more." the bishop having failed to gain the people, tried to forcibly prevent chiniquy from speaking. this was too much for the congregation, and it was only for his sake, and at his urgent request, that they allowed the unwelcome visitors to depart unmolested. they retired, defeated and annoyed, and the bishop soon afterwards became a lunatic. thus god preserved his servant and his people in the hour of trial, and though many other difficulties arose, his word continued to accomplish his purposes of love and grace; and like another luther, pastor chiniquy, though often in peril and doomed to death, has lived on to a ripe old age, covered and shielded by the shadow of the almighty. there may we also live and rest.--_jottings on_ "_the life and work of father chiniquy_," _by cousin susan_. rare and costly bibles. the special feature at the recent sale of the earl of crawford's library was the disposal of old and rare editions of the bible in various languages. the most important lots were as follows:-the "bishops'" bible, a revision of the "great bible" undertaken by archbishop parker and eight other bishops, black letter, folio, 1568. it is sometimes called the "treacle" bible, from the words, "is there no _tryacle_ [instead of 'balm'] in gilead?" £70 [sold to] (quaritch). second edition of the german bible, _circa_ 1466, £86 (quaritch); first edition of luther's bible, £51 (quaritch); the mazarin bible, or the gutenberg bible--the first edition of the bible, and the earliest book printed with movable metal types; a rare and much-sought book, two volumes, printed by gutenberg and füst about 1450, £2,650. this book was put up at £695, for which price this particular copy was sold thirty years ago. the book will remain in this country. sir john thorold's copy, a few years ago, fetched £3,900. another latin bible, two volumes, first edition, with a date beautifully printed upon vellum, folio, 1462, £1,025 (quaritch); biblia slavonica, the ostrog edition, 1581, £73 (quaritch); the virginian bible, by john eliot, with psalms in metre, two volumes in one, quarto, 1685 and 1680, £40 (quaritch); first edition of the welsh bible, from the wepre hall library, 1588, £60 (quaritch); block book, apocalypsis sancti johannis, forty-eight leaves printed from wooden blocks, in colours, and the xylographic text in brown ink, bound up with other matter in the old oak boards, folio, _circa_ 1430. this rare and curious volume is generally considered as being the second attempt in xylographic printing, the priority being given to the ars memorandi. block books are supposed to have preceded by nearly twenty-five years the discovery of printing with metal types, and the workmanship is attributed to the press of laurence coster at harlem. this specimen was put up at £100, and after a keen competition between mr. ellis and mr. quaritch, it was secured by the latter for £500. the day's sale realized upwards of £7,000. a new telephone. the _times_ paris correspondent describes some telephone experiments between paris and brussels with a new apparatus known as the "microtelephone push-button," which he believes to be the most perfect yet produced. as its name indicates, it has the form of an ordinary electric push-button. when the button has been pushed in, and has made a sound at the other extremity, it is taken out, and is found to be attached to a long electric wire. there is thus exposed the telephonic plate, which is extremely sensitive, so that when it is necessary to speak at short distances, it is not necessary to come close to the instrument. for communications in the same street, or the same house, the operator places the upper part near himself, and without changing his position he can speak with the correspondent at the opposite extremity. he is not obliged to put his ear to the part which contains the button and brings back the reply. thus, for short distances, those who make use of this apparatus speak in their ordinary tone, without changing their customary attitudes. they may sit or walk about, and speak just as if those they are addressing were present. when great distances intervene, in which the speakers and hearers are separated by two hundred miles, it is necessary to come nearer to the apparatus, but without being obliged to speak quite close to it. what makes this apparatus the most successful of telephonic instruments is, that it can be made for half-a-crown, that is to say, for not more than the price of the ordinary push-button. as it can be fitted to the electric wire of the ordinary ringing apparatus, it follows that it introduces a complete change in our ordinary modes of intercourse. the railway companies are making experiments with this apparatus as a means of communication between compartments of carriages, and it is being fitted up on trial in hotels. the inventor is dr. cornelius herz. "ask on." (1 kings ii. 20; john xiv. 13.) i hear "a voice from heaven"- i hear my sovereign say- "ask on" (he speaks to me); "i will not say thee nay." i would not doubt his word, for truth in him abides; i would not doubt his power; in him the godhead hides. and since i know he gave himself, himself, to move jehovah's curse from me, i would not doubt his love. and so i'll breathe my wish to christ, my king, to-day; and rest me on his word- "i will not say thee nay." isa. "is not a man better than an egg?" "bacon! bacon! bacon! always bacon! why don't we have eggs sometimes, like we used to?" was the discontented question of a little boy, one morning, as he surveyed a rasher of bacon on his plate. "may you never get anything worse to eat, my boy, than this nice streaky bacon," remarked his father, looking up from his newspaper. "little boys should eat what is put before them, and be thankful that they have food to eat," observed a severe-looking maiden aunt. "ralph is not very well to-day," said his sister nellie, in a low tone. "his appetite has not been so good lately as it used to be. he never seems to get on with bacon; and there have been very few eggs brought in for some time. do you think the fowls have left off laying, papa?" "hardly, my dear; this is just the time of year they lay most freely. i suspect they are hiding them, and making nests for themselves in some secret place." "_i_ suspect, john, that the stable-boy takes them. it is not at all likely that fourteen or fifteen fowls would hide their eggs, whatever one might do," said the severe aunt. "hens choose curious places to lay their eggs in sometimes," said mr. thorn,[11] laughing. "i remember one fine spanish bird that invariably laid hers on the top of a wall." [11] the real names are, of course, suppressed throughout. "what a queer place, papa! did not the eggs get broken?" "they did, my dear, to the great distress of the poor fowl, who no doubt wished to make a nest in that strange, out-of-the-way place. i used to listen for her cackling, in order, if possible, to save the egg; but it always tumbled off the wall before i could get to it. another, a cochin-china fowl, laid hers on a heap of stones, and----" "those must have been very badly managed fowls, john," interrupted miss thorn. "now, yours, on the contrary, are well cared for, and properly housed." this was quite true, for mr. thorn's fowl-house was large and airy, and well supplied with every necessary convenience. indeed, so true a fancier was he, that his extensive fowl-house was partitioned off, so that his brahmas, cochin-chinas, houdans, and other breeds should be in no danger of mixing. it was mr. thorn's custom always to collect his eggs himself, the first thing after breakfast; and he never allowed any one to go into the fowl-house on any pretence whatever, unless in his company. owing to this precaution the fowls were all very tame, while some would testify their pleased sense of his presence by stretching out their necks and uttering a little note of welcome. he was the more surprised, therefore, on the morning on which our story begins, to notice that all the fowls were in a state of intense excitement. to his astonishment, he found some of the doors communicating with the various sections of the house wide open, and the cocks, that he had supposed were safely guarded from each other, fighting together fiercely. evidently his sister was right. some other hand had collected the eggs. [illustration: "what do you know about mr. thorn's eggs?"] as he was coming out, after having with some difficulty restored order, his little boy came running up to him, with his bag of books on his back, on his way to school, saying eagerly-"i don't want to be dainty, papa, only it is tiresome to have nothing but bacon, when there are such lots of eggs." "how do you know there are lots of eggs, my boy?" "because i hear the hens cackling every day, papa. this morning there was such a noise before i got up." "where did the noise come from, ralph?" "from the hen-house, papa." "are you quite sure, ralph?" "quite, papa! oh, i know they don't lay anywhere else, for i have looked so often to see if any of them laid their eggs in the garden. i looked this morning before breakfast." "very well, my boy; run off to school now. perhaps we may find out soon where the hens do lay their eggs; but you had better not say anything about it to your schoolfellows." * * * * * "i tell you what it is, bob--i don't believe you come honestly by that money. you never do any work to speak of, and yet every now and then you bring in a lot of money," said a pale-looking young woman to her husband, one morning, as he slouched in to breakfast, and threw a handful of silver on the table. "a deal you know about it, jane! if i get odd jobs that bring me in an odd shilling or two, what business is it of yours, i should like to know? if you and the little 'un have enough to eat, that's all you need trouble about." "'taint no concern of mine, bob, and yet i can't help feeling a bit uncomfortable when i hear folks say that mr. thorn gets no eggs now." "what do you know about mr. thorn's eggs?" asked her husband, roughly. "well, that gossiping mrs. smith told me that mr. thorn said as how his hens had taken to hiding their eggs of late. she said he thought they had nests somewhere, but he couldn't find them, and then she looked at them eggs i was frying for dinner so suspicious-like that i got quite red, for fear you had taken 'em." bob made no reply, but ate his breakfast in sullen silence. as he went out, his wife called after him-"you try to get a reg'lar job, bob, and don't go loafing about." that evening bob came in earlier than usual, and going up to his wife, who was rocking the cradle, said in a husky voice-"jane, my gal, i'm goin' to turn over a new leaf." "bless the man!" exclaimed jane in alarm, as she saw unwonted tears in her husband's eyes. "are you took bad, bob?" "no, jane," he replied gently; "but i've been bad. listen, old gal, and i'll tell you all about it. you were right when you said the money i brought you lately weren't all honestly come by." "oh, bob!" "hush, my gal; don't interrupt me. it's hard on a fellow to have such a tale to tell. you know, jennie, how long i've been out of reg'lar work, and how hard i tried to get some of the farmers round to take me on; but they all said they had nothing for me to do. well, when you was took bad, i got desperate like; and one mornin', when i was doin' an odd job o' digging in mr. thorn's garden, i heard his hens a-cackling; and as i knowed when he collected the eggs, i got up early next day, and managed to slip in afore he was about; and as i wasn't found out, i did it again and again; and as i had nothing to do after the diggin', i walked to market littleton and sold 'em; and so i did many a time. well, this morning i met mr. thorn in the village. i tried to skulk out of his way, but he walked up quite friendly-like, and says he, 'i wish i had known you were so fond of eggs. i'd have given you some,' says he, 'and welcome.' well, i tried to brave it out, and swore i knew nought of his eggs, but he went on quite friendly in his funny way. 'bob,' says he, 'you shall have as many as you like, only let me have the pleasure of getting them for you. it's a pity for you to get up so early, and have all the trouble of getting over the fence, and opening the door with a bit of wire, when i could send them to you without any fuss.' well, jane, i went down on my knees then, and i said, 'if you'll forgive me this time, sir, i'll never do it again; only don't send me to jail. 'twould break my gal's heart, it would'; and then he puts half-a-crown into my hand, and he goes with me to a friend of his, and gets me taken on with the horses." "oh, bob, how could you?" said jane, crying; "and mr. thorn such a nice, kind-spoken gentleman! and oh, if anybody else knows, you'll get the name of a thief!" "no one else does know, my gal, and i am sure that mr. thorn will keep it close. he said he 'spected me the day afore yesterday, when he seed me at market littleton sellin' some eggs, and says he, 'i didn't like to 'spect you, bob; but after my 'spicions was roused, i watched yesterday mornin' and this mornin';' and as i was a-coming out of the hen-house this mornin', he seed me, and says he, ''tis an ill deed that has to be done in the dark, bob.'" * * * * * a night or two afterwards, as bob was passing a building where services were being held, he fancied that he heard mr. thorn's voice, and he went into the porch to listen. yes, it was john thorn's voice. he was praying, and it seemed to bob that he was praying for him. he prayed for those who were sorely tempted, and who had no strength to resist--who had never savingly heard the voice of the lord, and who never used his name but in oaths. "that's me," said poor bob, with a groan. after the prayer, the hymn, "just as i am," was sung, and then a short address was given by the preacher. "needy sinners, come just as you are," said the preacher. "jesus died for sinners. come with all your sins upon you. don't try to wash off some of the biggest ones; you will only make the dirty stains worse. come just as you are. you perhaps think of others--your old companions who will laugh at you, and so you are ashamed. were you ashamed of that mean act you did in the dark the other morning?" "he knows all about it," thought bob, and he covered his face with his hands. at that moment of supreme misery, some one touched him on the shoulder, and looking up in terror, bob saw the man whom he had robbed gazing down upon him, with his kind eyes full of pity and compassion for the poor sorrow-stricken man. "you've bin and told him," hissed bob. "my poor fellow, i have told him nothing. god forbid that i should tell any one of the sin which you have confessed to me. come in, bob." "i am so bad and so dirty." "your clothes are dirty, bob," replied mr. thorn, glancing at bob's soiled and shabby garments. "i wonder that you go on wearing them. they are too dirty to be washed." "too dirty to be washed, sir!" exclaimed bob in amazement. "i have no others to change with, or my gal would very soon have them in the wash-tub." "very true, bob. you have no clothes to change with, but if i gave you a clean coat, you would soon put it on, aye?" "yes, indeed, mr. thorn." "then, if you by faith come to christ, in your filthy rags, just as you are, he will wash you in the fountain of his blood, and will cover you with the robe of his righteousness." and bob came. he felt his guilt and misery, and like a little child he asked for mercy. need we say he found it? we do not pretend to fix the exact day and hour of his conversion, but this we know--the once dishonest man is now, and has been for years, a man of the strictest probity; the blasphemer now worships the saviour whom once he despised; and among that little band of christians in l----, there is none more devoted to his master's service, none more loving and gentle to wife and children, and to all within the sphere of his influence, than bob. "and under god, i owe it all to mr. thorn," he would say. "had he, a professing christian, sent me to prison then, could i have believed what he said of god's mercy? mr. thorn was to me the living witness of god's mercy in christ." "for if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly father will also forgive you." "just as i am, without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me, and that thou bidst me come to thee, o lamb of god, i come! "just as i am, and waiting not to rid my soul of one dark blot, to thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, o lamb of god, i come! "just as i am thou wilt receive; wilt strengthen, pardon, cleanse, relieve; because thy promise i believe; o lamb of god, i come! "just as i am--thy love unknown has broken every barrier down; now to be thine, yea, thine alone, o lamb of god, i come!" --_from a tract._ success.--there is a glare about success which is apt to dazzle men's eyes. when we see a man rising in the world, a foolish high opinion is formed of his merits. it is said, "what a wonderful man this must be to rise so rapidly!" forgetting that straw, dust, and feathers--things without value or weight--rise the soonest and easiest. it is not always the good and great man who rises rapidly into wealth and notice. a good example. the following notice, headed, "to the workmen of stoke works," was recently issued by mr. j. corbett, m.p.:-"it has been to me a matter of great pain and regret to receive from time to time complaints from grocers, bakers, and other tradesmen, that the men employed at the works ask for credit, and then refuse to pay their lawful debts, thereby bringing a bad name upon the works, and no good repute upon me as an employer. now, considering that the men employed here obtain higher wages than at any other salt works in england, and receive their wages weekly, i consider such conduct simply disgraceful, particularly when evidence is brought before me that the money which should go to pay tradesmen for provisions for the wife and family is expended in drink, too often leading to drunkenness. i contend that workmen who receive their wages weekly should never get into debt, and tradesmen ought to know that if men who regularly have their wages every saturday cannot pay one week, they are in no better position to pay the week after. i am determined to try to remove this stigma from stoke works, and hereby give notice that any man or men who expend their wages in drinking or otherwise, instead of paying their lawful debts, are no men for these works; and i do hope that any such men will take advice intended with the best feelings for their good and the comfort of their families. a copy of this notice will be sent to the tradesmen of stoke prior, bromsgrove, droitwich, and other places. this is, of course, only intended to apply to those men who are guilty of the conduct herein complained of.--(signed) john corbett, stoke prior salt works." it is better to be nobly remembered than nobly born.--_ruskin._ the dutch and their country. the enemies with which they had to contend were three--the sea, the lakes, the rivers. they dried up the lakes, imprisoned the rivers, drove back the sea. in order to drain the lakes they made use of the air. the lakes and ponds were surrounded by dams, the dams by canals. an army of windmills put pumps in motion, which turned the water into the canals, which conducted it to the rivers and to the sea. thus vast spaces of land buried under water were transformed as if by enchantment into fertile, smiling plains, populated by villages. from 1500 to 1858 the amount of land reclaimed was 355 miles. by the substitution of steam instead of windmills, the great lake of haarlem was dried, the furious tempests of which threatened the cities of haarlem, amsterdam, and leyden with destruction; and the dutch, in 1883, seriously contemplated the prodigious undertaking of reclaiming the land buried under the zuyder zee. the rivers did not cost much less labour than the lakes, but the most tremendous struggle was with the ocean. a great part of holland is below sea-level, and the land has to be defended by dykes. if these wonderful bulwarks of earth and of wood and granite were not there as monuments to attest the courage and perseverance of the dutch, no one would believe that the hand of man, even in the course of centuries, could accomplish so great a work. holland is an impregnable fortress. the mills are the towers of its immense bastions, the cataracts the gates, the islands the advanced forts; and she shows to her enemy, the sea, only the belfries and roofs of the edifices. holland is a fortress, and the dutch, like people in a fortress, stand on a perpetual war-footing with the sea. an army of engineers, dependent on the minister of the interior, spy upon the enemy continually, watch over the state of the internal waters, provide for ruptures in the embankments, advise and direct new works of defence to strengthen and support the old. the danger is constant, the sentinels ever at their posts. at the first assault of the sea they give the cry of alarm, and holland sends arms, materials, and money. even when there is not a great battle raging, there is always a slow, silent struggle. the innumerable mills are never quiet, always pumping the rain-water into the canals. every day the cataracts of the canals and rivers shut their huge gates against the rising tide, which struggles to precipitate itself into the heart of the country. but holland has done more than defend herself from the sea, and master it. the waters were her scourge, but she has made them her defence. when a foreign army invaded her territory, she opened her sluice-gates, unchained the sea and the waves, and let them loose on the enemy, defending internal cities with a fleet. the water was her poverty; she made it her wealth. "nature," says a dutch poet, "refused all her gifts to holland. men had to do everything in spite of nature." it is enough to look at the monuments of the great struggle with the sea to understand that the distinctive characteristics of this people must be firmness and patience, accompanied by a calm and never-failing courage. you can outlive a slander in half the time you can out-argue it. the soul that cannot entirely trust god, whether man be pleased or displeased, can never long be true to him; for, while you are eyeing man, you are losing sight of god and stabbing religion at the very heart.--_manton._ sunday school intelligence. clifton sunday school anniversary. special services in the above place, on behalf of the sunday school, were held on sunday, july 22nd. two sermons were preached, in the morning and evening, by the pastor, mr. frederick marshall; also an address was given by him in the afternoon. text in the morning, deuteronomy vi. 6, 7. he spoke of the good of sunday schools in the cases of many that have left them and gone out into the world to earn their living. it was his prayer that the lord would bless the labours of the brethren and sisters in the good work, and that they might not be weary in well-doing, for they have the promise, "they shall reap if they faint not." he could rest assured that what was taught in the school was according to the scriptures. he warned the young people to flee from temptations and from the appearance of evil, and directed them to diligently search the scriptures, and take them for a guide. in the afternoon, in the presence of a goodly number of parents, teachers, and scholars, he spoke from the little word "one." he said that there must be a oneness between teachers and scholars, or the school could not succeed. he also said that each boy and girl, as well as the teacher, had his or her individual duty to do, and he said that they all ought to try to do that duty well, out of school as well as in. in the evening, the text was romans xvi. 26. the sermon was listened to very attentively by a good congregation. suitable pieces for the occasion were sung by the children. on the following thursday the children had their annual treat. on account of the previous wet weather, it was feared that not a very enjoyable day was in store; but he who is still the answerer of prayer was pleased to stay the rain, so that a very pleasant day was spent by all present. a scholar. providence chapel sunday school, burwash. the first public meeting took place on wednesday, august 8th. the meeting was opened at two p.m. by singing, and then the superintendent read proverbs iv. 1-13, and spoke in prayer. the children then amused themselves for a time in the adjoining field. they were called in again at four o'clock, and after reading and prayer, eight of the senior scholars recited from fifteen to thirty verses each of scripture, and some hymns, for which they were presented, six with the clifton hymnal, one with "the sack and its treasure," and the other with "the morte stone," kindly presented by mr. j. wilmshurst, of cranbrook. three of the junior scholars also said a few verses, for which they were presented, two with a new testament, and one with the psalms. at five o'clock about thirty persons sat down to tea, most of whom were children. in the evening mr. j. jarvis, of mayfield, preached a very impressive and encouraging sermon from hebrews xii. 24. the sunday school was opened on the last lord's day in april with three scholars. it now has eighteen, and we trust that the lord will still prosper the good work. s. h. jarvis. carmel chapel, fleckney. the anniversary of the sabbath school in connection with the above place of worship was held on sunday, july 29th, when two sermons were preached by mr. read, who has now preached on these occasions for thirteen years. both school-rooms and chapel were crowded. special hymns were sung by the scholars, and at the close of the sermon in the evening, twelve handsomely-bound bibles were presented to six girls and six boys, it being a custom to give one to each scholar at the age of sixteen. mr. read spoke very appropriate words as he presented the bible to each scholar. collections were made at the close of each service, amounting in the whole to £16. the school, which now numbers 190 scholars, was commenced about thirty years since, when our esteemed superintendent, mr. j. garner, was the only teacher, with five scholars. the preaching of the truth of god in our village was begun by our beloved minister, mr. deacon, thirty-four years ago, in a cottage, which has given rise to the building of two chapels, and it is thought that the present one, which has only been built ten years, will have to be enlarged. we are constrained to say, with one of old, "what hath god wrought?" a reader. "a soft answer." a person went to the late mr. longden, of sheffield, one day, and said, "i have something against you, and i am come to tell you of it." "do walk in, sir," he replied. "you are my best friend. if i could but engage my friends to be faithful with me, i should be sure to prosper. but, if you please, we will both kneel down, in the first place, and ask the blessing of god upon our interview." after they rose from their knees, mr. longden said, "now, my brother, i will thank you to tell me what it is that you had against me." "oh," said the man, "i really don't know what it is. it is all gone; and i believe i was in the wrong." our bible class. ananias and sapphira. (acts v. 1-16.) in the second chapter of acts we learn how the holy spirit was, on the day of pentecost, just after christ's ascension, poured out upon the apostles, how they preached the gospel in languages they had never learned before, and how three thousand of their hearers were led to confess their sins and believe on the lord jesus christ. these were baptized according to his commandment, and added to the company of disciples at jerusalem, partaking of the lord's supper as he had bidden them, and continuing in fellowship and prayer. but besides all this, they made a rule for themselves which jesus had not actually laid down for them. the richer members gave up their money and goods, and all shared alike. thus beautifully did they obey the spirit of his new commandment, "love one another, even as i have loved you" (john xv. 12). but this happy state of things did not long continue. satan and sin soon interrupted its trustful, unselfish course, and we never find again that they that believed had all things common, after the events recorded in acts v. a man named ananias and his wife sapphira joined the church, and seeing that others parted with their possessions, they also sold a piece of land, and laid a portion of the price at the apostles' feet, pretending that they had given up the whole of the money received. peter, being divinely inspired, detected the falsehood, and ananias fell down dead at his feet, was carried from the place of meeting, and buried immediately. sapphira, ignorant of the dreadful fact, came to a later service, and repeating the lie to peter, she also was struck with death in a moment, and was borne to her husband's grave. his seems to have been an _acted_, hers a _spoken_ lie. in each case the falsehood was partly true, but the intention was to deceive, and this is the very essence of a lie. it was hypocrisy. they "played a part," like actors on the stage. they pretended to be different people from what they really were, and they wanted to be thought of as loving, sincere, and generous christians, while they were false-hearted and hollow all the time. may we never try to deceive others, to make a false impression--to seem better than we are. god sees and knows us altogether. may it be our chief desire to have our hearts and lives right with him. but why did such a terrible doom fall upon these two false ones at the very beginning of the christian era? in the olden time god's judgments fell upon transgressors in a sudden and fearful way, but under the gracious reign of jesus we might scarcely have looked for such a display of wrath. yet, though "god is love," he is also "a consuming fire," and there is not all that difference between the old dispensation and the present one which might at first appear. david was forgiven ages before, and these sinners were destroyed in gospel times. then, "god was greatly to be feared in the assembly of his saints," and still he must "be had in reverence of all them that are about him." but what were the effects of this awful occurrence? "great fear came upon the church, and upon all who heard these things." this is just what we should have expected. "and of the rest" (of those who were not true and whole-hearted) "no one dared to join that company." so much the better, just as the disciples were better off without judas iscariot. a decaying corpse in the house injures the health of the living inmates, and false professors have never done good, but rather harm, to the true church of god. yet another result followed which we might not have hoped for--a large increase of believing converts. "multitudes of men and women, believing on the lord, were the more added to the church." "the more." yes, for this very reason--they saw and felt that "the lord was there," and loving him, they wished to dwell in his presence, and enjoy his protection and care. oh, how important motives are! a thief in the company of innocent people may, like them, offer to be searched, in order to avoid suspicion, as judas asked, "lord, is it i?" when all the disciples had first put the question to jesus, but he could not thus escape the searching eyes that read his heart, or the words of condemnation that fell upon his ears. are we willing to be searched and tried by god? but, if we do desire to belong to jesus, and follow him, need we, should we, hesitate to unite with, or remain among, his people? oh, no! though he is angry with the wicked every day, and terrible to the hypocrites, he is gracious and full of compassion to all who seek his grace. "will he plead against me with his great strength? no, but he will put strength in me," said job (chap. xxiii. 6). and while he burns up all who rebel against him, as the fire consumes briars and thorns, they who would be at peace with him shall find peace by his own strength (isa. xxvii. 4, 5) and love. yes, and not only so--it is a blessing for us that he does know us altogether. we are sometimes afraid to confess some secret fault to an earthly friend, lest we should be loved less when the wrong thing is known; and if we could hide ourselves from god, how we might shrink from telling him some of our thoughts and feelings, and this secrecy might ruin and destroy us. but he does know all, and knowing, loves his children still, so that we may pour out all our heart before him; and while it will be an unspeakable relief to us, it will be no news to him. a sense of our own unworthiness will only precede the joyous assurance of pardon and blessing. peter once said, "depart from me, for i am a sinful man, o lord!" and isaiah cried, "woe is me, for i am undone" (isa. vi. 5); but peter's fear gave place to the clinging words of love--"lord, to whom shall we go [but unto thee], for thou hast the words of eternal life?" (john vi. 68); while isaiah's cry of sorrow changed to the gladsome song, "behold, god is my salvation; i will trust, and not be afraid" (isa. xii. 2). oh, that we may be helped to cast ourselves by faith and prayer entirely upon him, and, like peter, say, "lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that i love thee." amen. our next subject will be, _the good shepherd, his lambs and sheep_ (isa. xl. 11). yours affectionately, h. s. l. bible enigma. an officer of pharaoh. a city built by cain. a son of solomon. a precious stone. the mount where joshua built an altar. a queen of the ethiopians. the land of haran's nativity. one of the seven churches of asia. a duke of edom. one whom the lord raised up to deliver israel. a daughter of zelophehad. the initials of the words do show what christ on earth had to pass through; and all his people may prepare, while in this world, to have their share. thomas tyler (aged 13 years). _potton, beds._ adversity borrows its sharpest sting from our impatience.--_bishop horne._ prize essay. the blessings conferred on england by the accession to the throne of william of orange, and by the protestant succession thereby secured to us. the blessings conferred on england by the accession of william of orange ought long to be remembered by all those who love to worship god in the way their conscience tells them is right. he came to england at a time in its history when it was especially in need of help. he restored liberty, both civil and religious, and backed up protestantism. the protestant people were greatly burdened by the cruelties of james ii., who, it is said, had a mind more devoted to the infliction of pain than had been since the romans conquered england. here he persecuted those who held fast to the "common prayer," and in scotland put to death as many as would not adopt it. he had two women tied to stakes and drowned in the solway firth, because they would not repeat the apostles' creed. by these incidents of his cruelty, we plainly see the great blessing of liberty which god, through william iii., bestowed on england, and the great blessing which protestantism is to the land. james having thus shown himself to the people, and his cruelties being so great, it is naturally to be expected that they would readily accept this new sovereign, who was a good man, and who had supported the protestants of holland all his life. he had a right to the crown by his marriage to mary, the daughter of james ii. england received a great blessing in the year 1701, the act of settlement being passed by the consent of william and his parliament, which shut out from the english throne all persons who were roman catholics, or persons married to roman catholics. the successor to him was queen anne of denmark, and when she died, leaving no child, another agreement was formed, placing the crown on sophia, dowager-electress of hanover, and her posterity, if they were protestants. since this act was passed there has been no roman catholic on the throne. if it had not been passed, several romanist sovereigns might have reigned. the protestant religion is a great blessing, and the main cause of the prosperity of our nation. romanism greatly impoverishes all countries which are its victims, such as ireland, where popery predominates. never has the accession to the throne of a protestant king been more needful than it was then. it is since then that england has won a name as a great nation and a brave people. if protestantism is such a standing religion, which "has been through the water, and not been overflowed," and "through the fire without being burned," surely we ought to labour hard for the overthrow of that false religion which is the main curse of many nations in the world. by the important incidents we plainly see god's overruling providence guarding us and our religion, and, as wickliffe said, after one of his trials, so say we again with still greater force, "the truth shall prevail." william ernest cray (aged 11 years). _pearl cottage_, _carlyle road_, _forton_, _gosport_, _hants._ [we are sorry that no more of our young friends have sent essays for this month, but our young friend has thereby the advantage of taking a second prize.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "the reformation and its heroes." the subject for november will be, "lessons to be derived from the history of daniel," and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "cowper's poems." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of october.] "the nails are gone, but the marks are left." a little boy, whose father desired to see him a good child, was told one day that a nail should be driven into a post whenever he should do an act that was wrong; and when he should do a good deed, he might pull one out. the little fellow tried to be good, and, though there were a number of nails driven into the post, after a while not one remained. how happy must benny have been when he saw the last nail disappear from the post! his father was greatly pleased, and was congratulating his son, when he was surprised to see that he was weeping; and very touching was the remark he made--"ah! the nails are all gone, but the marks are left!" was not this contrition? bible subjects for each sunday in september. sept. 2. commit to memory isa. viii. 12. sept. 9. commit to memory isa. viii. 20. sept. 16. commit to memory isa. viii. 13. sept. 23. commit to memory isa. viii. 14. sept. 30. commit to memory isa. viii. 17. interesting items. "god save the queen" is now sung in eighteen languages. the cost of making a bank-note for any amount is less than one halfpenny. eight million baskets of peaches are expected from delaware and maryland this season. the pool of bethesda has, according to the quarterly statement of the palestine exploration fund, been authoritatively discovered. in the whole sky an eye of average power will see about 6,000 stars. with a telescope this number is greatly increased, and the most powerful telescopes show more than 60,000,000. of this number, not one out of each hundred has ever been catalogued. the oldest newspaper in the whole wide world is the _king pau_, or _capital sheet_, published in pekin. it first appeared a.d. 911, but came out only at irregular intervals. since the year 1351, however, it has been published weekly and of uniform size. now it appears in three editions daily. on an average each englishman writes forty letters a year, each scotchman thirty, and each irishman sixteen. the average italian only posts six, and the american twenty-one. it must be remembered that in the country letter-writing is a rare pursuit, and that the bulk of letters are written by business men. the tomato is, perhaps, used more as a relish than for its nutritive value. uncooked, it forms the prince of salads, and it is one of the most appetising, palatable, and popular vegetables we have. violent heat destroys the delicious flavour of this half fruit, half vegetable, so when you cook them, be most careful to use only moderate heat. saving the buffalo.--the buffaloes on the american prairies were thought to be nearly extinct, thanks to the reckless destruction of big game in recent years; but a happy find has been made of a herd nearly one hundred strong in a remote and uninhabited part of texas. to prevent any danger of their annihilation, an expedition of trained huntsmen is being sent to texas to drive the buffaloes into a given enclosure, where the breed will be carefully preserved. thirteen thousand boxes gone astray, thirteen thousand umbrellas left in railway carriages, sixty-seven thousand different items of property lost on the railways of the united kingdom during the single month of august, 1887! the railway companies are not responsible for this property, but to their credit be it said, they afford every facility for its recovery. popery in portugal.--a correspondent in oporto describes the romish ceremony of washing an image of christ in lisbon, and adds--"if those who are drifting romewards could only see the depths of greed, hypocrisy, and deceit to which the church descends in these countries where she holds sway, and how immorality, infidelity, and spiritual darkness rule among the people, from high to low, they would surely hesitate to introduce popish mummeries into free england." to cure feathers.--the following recipe gained a premium from the society of arts. mix a quantity of lime-water in the proportion of one pound of quicklime to a gallon of water, mixing well, and pouring off the clean lime-water for use as soon as the undissolved lime is precipitated. put the feathers in a tub, adding enough of the clean lime-water to cover them to a depth of three inches. stir them about until well moistened, when they will sink. leave for three or four days, and then pour the whole through a sieve to get rid of the foul water. wash well in clean water, and dry upon nets in a room where the air can be admitted. cabbage nets will do well, the feathers falling through the meshes as they dry. about three weeks will finish the feathers, which will only need beating afterwards to get rid of the dust. curious custom at a city church.--the following extract from the last will and testament of peter symondes, mercer, dated april 24th, 1586, refers to a curious custom still observed on good friday at all hallows church, lombard street:--"the parson and churchwardens shall every year, upon the same good fryday, divide the same raisons into threescore parts in papers, and when the children of christ's hospital shall come upon good fryday as aforesaid, then the said parson and churchwardens shall give unto every child a part of that so appointed; and although this gift may be thought very frivolous, yet, my mind and meaning being hidden, may, notwithstanding, be performed, praying god to make all those children happy members of this commonwealth. amen." under directions in the same will, each of the sixty boys also receives a new penny. an easter card is also given by the churchwardens from the parish funds. the earwig.--the old-fashioned idea of the much-dreaded earwig is little more than a fallacy. the original english word "ear" signified an undeveloped flower-bud, especially among corn, and "wic" commonly stood for a hiding-place; so that familiar insect (formerly written "ear-wig"), through seeking its favourite dwelling beneath the closely-shielded bud "ears," has been universally accredited with propensities so deadly injurious to mankind of which it naturally stands wholly innocent. in this manner popular superstition has often thrown a mantle of evil and dread upon surrounding objects, harmless in themselves; and so long as the vulgar lend credence to ill-founded traditions without instituting intelligent inquiry, so long must such discrepancies continue to hold sway over the public mind. sheep-shearing by machinery.--a public trial of mr. p. w. wolseley's "patent sheep-shearing machine" was recently made in the presence of a number of gentlemen interested in sheep-breeding and wool-growing. the result--says _the australasian_--was a complete success. the first test was upon a crossbred sheep with an average fleece. the animal was closely shorn in four and a half minutes. the second animal was shorn in the ordinary way, and then operated upon by the machine, with the result that, in addition to the cut of the old-fashioned shears, nine and a half ounces of wool were obtained. it is claimed for the invention that it works faster than hand labour, leaves no second cut, does not injure the skin in the slightest degree, and can be so regulated that the fleece can be removed of any length desired. a monster trout.--a monster trout was captured the last week in july in the river itchen, at winchester, weighing 16 lbs. 2 ozs., and measuring 32 inches in length and 21 inches in circumference. the bait was a live minnow, and he was not landed till two hours after he was hooked. he had haunted the stream for years, was almost as well known in the city as queen anne's statue in the high street, and had acquired quite a reputation for the number of rods he had broken, and the quantity of fishing tackle he had carried away. his captor was a labourer named turpin, who disposed of him for £1 to a fishmonger, on whose slab it attracted almost as many visitors as a monarch lying in state. he was in splendid condition, and has now gone into the hands of a taxidermist for preservation. a rather curious episode in natural history occurred the other day on board the french steamboat _abd-el-kader_, during the passage from marseilles to algiers. just as the vessel was about two hours out, the skies became quite black with swallows. it was then about six o'clock in the evening. the birds alighted in thousands on the sails, ropes, and yards of the _abd-el-kader_. after a perky survey of the deck from their eminences aloft, they descended coolly on deck, hopped about among the sailors and passengers, and eventually found their way into the cabins, both fore and aft. the birds were evidently fatigued, after a long flight, and allowed themselves to be caught by the people of the ship, who gave them a welcome reception, and provided them with food, which they enjoyed heartily. the little winged strangers remained all night on the vessel, and in the morning, at seven o'clock, the head look-out bird had, no doubt, sighted the balearic isles, for the whole flock made for land, after having spent a comfortable and refreshing night on board ship. facts about london.--london is the greatest city the world ever saw. it has an influence with all parts of the world, represented by the yearly delivery in its postal districts of 295 millions of letters; it covers within the fifteen miles' radius of charing cross nearly 700 square miles; it numbers within these boundaries four million two hundred thousand of inhabitants; it contains more country-born persons than the counties of devon and gloucester combined, or 37 per cent. of its population; has, on an average, four fires every day amongst its 500,000 houses; has a birth in it every four minutes; has a death in it every six minutes; has 230 persons every day and 84,000 annually added to its population; has nine accidents every day in its 7,000 miles of streets; has 55 miles of new streets opened, and 17,000 new houses built in it every year; has a vast network of 2,184 miles of sewers and pipes for its drainage, and 2,000 miles for its gas supply of 55,000 lamps; has 1,000 ships and 9,000 sailors in its port every day; has upwards of 89,000 persons annually taken into custody by the police; has more than one-third of all the crime in the country committed in it; has 25,000 persons living in its common lodging houses; has 43,286 persons annually arrested as drunk and disorderly. it is further estimated that it comprises 100,000 foreigners from every quarter of the globe. it contains more roman catholics than rome itself; it contains more jews than the whole of palestine; it contains more irish than belfast; it contains more scotchmen than aberdeen; it contains more welshmen than cardiff; it has as many beershops and gin-palaces, the frontages of which would, if placed side by side, stretch from charing cross to chichester, a distance of 62 miles. it has nearly as many paupers as would occupy every house in brighton. [illustration: "who shall have it?" (_see page 218._)] little scotch granite. burt and johnnie lee were delighted when their scotch cousin came to live with them. he was little, but very bright and full of fun. he could tell curious things about his home in scotland, and his voyage across the ocean. he was as far advanced in his studies as they were, and the first day he went to school they thought him remarkably good. he wasted no time in play when he should have been studying, and he advanced finely. at night, before the close of the school, the teacher called the roll, and the boys began to answer, "ten." when willie understood that he was to say ten if he had not whispered during the day, he replied, "i have whispered." "more than once?" asked the teacher. "yes, sir," answered willie. "as many as ten times?" "maybe i have," faltered willie. "then i shall mark you zero," said the teacher, sternly; "and that is a great disgrace." "why, i did not see you whisper once," said johnnie, that night after school. "well, i did," said willie, "i saw others doing it, and so i asked to borrow a book; then i lent a slate pencil, and asked a boy for a knife, and did several such things. i supposed it was allowed." "oh, but we all do it," said burt, reddening. "there isn't any sense in the old rule; and nobody could keep it; nobody does." "i will, or else i will say i haven't," said willie. "do you suppose i would tell ten lies in one heap?" "oh, we don't call them lies," muttered johnnie. "there wouldn't be a credit among us at night, if we were so strict." "what of that if you told the truth?" laughed willie, bravely. in a short time the boys all saw how it was with him. he studied hard, played with all his might in play time; but, according to his account, he lost more credits than any of the rest. after some weeks, the boys answered "nine" and "eight" oftener than they used to. yet the school-room seemed to have grown quieter. sometimes, when willie grant's mark was even lower than usual, the teacher would smile peculiarly, but said no more of disgrace. willie never preached at them or told tales; but somehow it made the boys ashamed of themselves, just the seeing that this sturdy blue-eyed boy must tell the truth. it was putting the clean cloth by the half-soiled one, you see; and they felt like cheats and story-tellers. they talked him all over, and loved him, if they did nickname him "scotch granite," he was so firm about a promise. well, at the end of the term, willie's name was very low down on the credit list. when it was read, he had hard work not to cry; for he was very sensitive, and he had tried hard to be perfect. but the very last thing that day was a speech by the teacher, who told of once seeing a man muffled up in a cloak. he was passing him without a look, when he was told the man was general ----, the great hero. "the signs of his rank were hidden, but the hero was there just the same," said the teacher. "and now, boys, you will see what i mean when i give a little gold medal to the most faithful boy--the one really the most conscientiously perfect in his deportment among you. who shall have it?" "little scotch granite!" shouted forty boys at once; for the child whose name was so "low" on the credit list had made truth noble in their eyes. "a poor man is better than a liar."--_the lantern._ the hyacinth. the sweet-scented pink hyacinth which had been brought me was beautiful indeed. it had not yet reached maturity, nor as yet shown all its resources of vigour and of beauty, but we took great pleasure in watching its gradual unfolding. some of its beautiful double bells did, in fact, come out, and gave forth their delicious perfume. but one day there came a stop to its development, which made us anxious. some of the blossoms faded before they had fully displayed their lovely hues, and the buds remained stationary in their leaves. water, sunshine, soft spring air, were not lacking to them. the earth in the flower-pot was good, and there was sufficient space for the roots to expand, but it was speedily evident that the plant was dying. "at all events," i said, "i'll save the bulb." so saying, i raised the plant out of the base, using great precaution, that i might not break the beautiful white-red threads, which i shook, in order to loosen them from the earth. they had become wound together, and formed a sort of nest, in which crawled, twisting themselves as they went along, as many as eight worms. it was certainly not to be wondered at that, with eight worms at the root, the poor flower should not have been able to thrive. i removed the enemy at once, and planted the hyacinth again under more favourable conditions; but it is to be feared that the sap had been too much impoverished for it ever to thrive again. i seemed to see a parable in the history of my plant, and i could not avoid sighing. why did i sigh? because i have known so many young men and women who have disappointed the hopes felt about them in their childhood. the careful culture these young people have had from tender and anxious parents has not succeeded. these promising plants have been blighted because some gnawing worm, which their friends had not remarked, was at the root. it was vanity--the desire to shine--it was deceit--untruthfulness--it was pride--rebellion of the will against all authority--it was covetousness--it was selfishness--it was----but why should i continue the melancholy enumeration? it is god who alone knows the secret enemies of our happiness. "the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," says the voice of scripture; "who can know it?" "out of the heart come evil thoughts," says christ; therefore how needful for all of us is the prayer, "create in me a clean heart, o god!" and how cheering the promise, "i will give you a new heart, and i will put a new spirit within you." j. y. words and deeds. one of our party greatly needed some elder-flower water for her face, upon which the sun was working great mischief. it was in the italian town of varallo, and not a word of italian did i know. i entered a chemist's shop, and surveyed his drawers and bottles, but the result was nil. bright thought--i would go down by the river, and walk until i could gather a bunch of elder-flowers, for the tree was then in bloom. happily the search was successful. the flowers were exhibited to the druggist; the extract was procured. when you cannot tell in so many words what true religion is, exhibit it by your actions. show by your life what grace can do. there is no language in the world so eloquent as a godly life. men may doubt what you say, but they will believe what you do.--_c. h. spurgeon._ it is a great shame to a man to have a poor heart and a rich purse.--_chaucer._ destruction of sodom and gomorrah. "_he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground._"--genesis xix. 25. the following extract from "word pictures from the bible," by g. h. taylor, furnishes a good specimen of pictorial teaching, and will serve to illustrate the lesson on the above subject:-in the southern part of palestine, and about thirty miles south-east from jerusalem, stands the dead sea. it is a lake of about forty miles in length, with an average breadth of ten miles. on the east and the west, steep, rugged, and barren mountains of limestone rise up to the height of two thousand feet, and enclose the waters as in a huge cauldron. a death-like stillness prevails all around, unbroken save by the scream of the wild fowl on the bosom of the lake, or the footstep of some daring and solitary traveller. its shores are deserted. no human habitation exists within miles. even the wandering arab approaches it with superstitious dread. nothing can exceed the gloomy grandeur of its scenery. rocks piled upon rocks, like ruin upon ruin, look down from the east and the west, and are reflected in its sluggish waters. in its immediate vicinity all vegetation languishes and dies, and the shores are covered as with a coat of salt. in the waters themselves no living thing exists. everything contributes to the ideas of solitude, silence, sterility, mystery, ruin, and death. now there was a time when the sea did not exist--when the ground which it now covers formed part of a lovely, extensive, and fertile plain. so lovely was this plain that it was likened to the garden of paradise, on account of its fertility. everything which was pleasant to the eye and good for food grew there. there was one valley in this plain which was beautiful beyond all others; it was the vale of siddim. in this vale were built the cities of sodom and gomorrah, admah and zeboim, and some others. now, the fertility of the ground caused the inhabitants of these places to be very rich and very idle. they forgot the goodness of god in placing them in such a lovely spot; and instead of thanking him for his kindness towards them, they gave way to such a beastliness and licentiousness of conduct as one cannot think of without shuddering. their very name lives to our times to designate all that is filthy and abominable in the conduct of men. they were not only licentious, they were proud; not only proud, they were greedy and uncharitable. although they possessed in such abundance all that was necessary for the happiness and sustenance of man, yet would they not give anything to assist the poor and the needy. the prophet ezekiel says, "behold this was the iniquity of thy sister sodom; pride, fulness of bread, and abundance of idleness, was in her and in her daughters; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy, but was haughty, and committed abomination before me." all the worst of sins in the greatest excess were to be found among these inhabitants of the cities of the plain. at this time there was living among them a man of the name of lot, the nephew of abraham. one evening, as lot sat in the gate of sodom, two angels, in the form of men, appeared unto him. "and lot, seeing them, rose up to meet them; and he bowed himself with his face toward the ground; and he said, behold now, my lords, turn in, i pray you, into your servant's house, and tarry all night, and wash your feet, and ye shall rise up early, and go on your ways. and they said, nay; but we will abide in the street all night." they did not wish to enter; but lot pressed them, and they went in, and he gave them some refreshment. that very night the angels communicate to lot the intelligence that the lord had sent them to destroy sodom and gomorrah, and all the cities of the plain, for the sins of the people had become so great that they were an abomination in the land. and the angels said unto lot, "hast thou here any besides? son-in-law, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and whatsoever thou hast in the city, bring them out of this place." this awful news must have made lot very anxious for the safety of his family, and accordingly he goes out and tells his relations, and bids them get up and leave the place, for the lord is about to destroy the city. "but he seemed as one that mocked, unto his sons-in-law." lot entreats them like a kind father who desires the safety of his children; but they only mock him in return--"why should to-morrow differ from other days? who ever saw it rain fire, or whence should the brimstone come? or, if such showers must fall, how shall nothing burn but this valley?" "and when the morning arose, then the angels hastened lot, saying, arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city." how destruction hunts the wicked! as soon as it is morning, lot is told to hurry out of the guilty city, lest he should be consumed in its iniquity. lot looks upon it, and thinks, perhaps, of his property which he must leave to perish. he looks, and lingers; but the angels "laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the lord being merciful unto him: and they brought him forth, and set him without the city." no sooner are they beyond the walls of the city than the angels say unto him, "escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed." the command terrifies lot. "escape to the mountain--to a wild, barren, desert spot, where i cannot find food to eat, and where the wild beasts may destroy me? i cannot escape to the mountain, lest some evil take me, and i die. behold now, this city is near to flee unto, and it is a little one. oh, let me escape thither, (is it not a little one?) and my soul shall live." the prayer of lot is graciously accepted. "see, i have accepted thee concerning this thing also, that i will not overthrow this city, for the which thou hast spoken. haste thee, escape thither; for i cannot do anything till thou be come thither. therefore the name of the city was called zoar." as lot enters the little city of zoar the sun is shining. everything was as usual. the sun is shining upon the cities and the beautiful vale of siddim. the inhabitants, heedless and careless as before, are wantoning and revelling. suddenly the windows of heaven are opened, and floods of fiery rain pour down upon the guilty cities and all within them. the ground takes fire; the wicked inhabitants fly, shrieking, from place to place, but all too late. the swift devouring flames follow them, and in a short time the cities, the people, all that was fair to look upon in the vale of siddim, even the solid earth itself, are in a blaze! presently a noise like that of thunder is heard. the earth, like some huge animal, opens wide its mouth; the cities sink into its jaws and are swallowed up; floods of water, filled with sulphur, rush over the place where they stood, and nothing is seen but a thick cloud of smoke rising from the water. that water is the dead sea. these were not all the horrors of that dreadful day. lot escaped into zoar, but his wife, who was behind him, looked back, and she became a pillar of salt. the angel had told them not to look back. god was at that time showing her the greatest mercy, yet, contrary to his commands, she looked back, and became a pillar of salt. it may be that the swift flames overtook her as she loitered, or that god, offended at such ungrateful disobedience, punished her on the spot by immediately turning her into a pillar of salt. it matters not to us which way it was. in either case it was the result of disobedience. the bible and its claims. i do not know whether you have seen mr. smiles' life of our late friend george moore, but in it we read that, at a certain dinner-party, a learned man remarked that it would not be easy to find a person of intelligence who believed in the inspiration of the bible. in an instant george moore's voice was heard across the table saying boldly, "i do, for one." nothing more was said. my dear friend had a strong way of speaking, as i well remember, for we have upon occasions vied with each other in shouting when we were together at his cumberland home. i think i can hear his emphatic "i do, for one." let us not be backward to take the old-fashioned and unpopular side, and say outright, "i do, for one." where are we, if our bibles are gone? where are we if taught to distrust them? if we are left in doubt as to what part is inspired and what is not, we are as badly off as if we had no bible at all. i hold no theory of inspiration. i accept the inspiration of the scriptures as a fact. those who thus view the scriptures need not be ashamed of their company, for some of the best and most learned of men have been of the same mind. locke, the great philosopher, spent the last fourteen years of his life in the study of the bible, and when asked what was the shortest way for a young gentleman to understand the christian religion, he bade him read the bible, remarking, "therein are contained the words of eternal life. it has god for its author, salvation for its end, and truth, without any admixture of error, for its matter." there are those on the side of god's word whom you need not be ashamed of in the matter of intelligence and learning; and if it were not so, it should not discourage you, when you remember that the lord has "hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them unto babes." we believe, with the apostle, that "the foolishness of god is wiser than men." it is better to believe what comes out of god's mouth, and be called a fool, than to believe what comes out of the mouths of philosophers, and be therefore esteemed a wise man.--_c. h. spurgeon._ mankind's mistakes. it is a mistake to labour when you are not in a fit condition to do so. to think that the more a person eats the healthier and stronger he will become. to go to bed at midnight and rise at daybreak, and imagine that every hour taken from sleep is an hour gained. to imagine that if a little work or exercise is good, violent or prolonged exercise is better. to conclude that the smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in. to eat as if you had only a minute to finish the meal in, or to eat without an appetite, or continue after it has been satisfied, merely to gratify the taste. to believe that children can do as much work as grown people, and that the more hours they study the more they learn. to imagine that whatever remedy causes one to feel immediately better (as alcoholic stimulants) is good for the system, without regard to its after effects. to take off proper clothing out of season, simply because you have become heated. to think that any nostrum or patent medicine is a specific for all the diseases flesh is heir to. postal service statistics the right hon. h. c. raikes, her majesty's postmaster-general, has issued the thirty-fourth annual report on the working of the postal services in the united kingdom for the year ended march 31st last. the record starts with a table, the figures of which convey some notion of the magnitude of the task undertaken. it is estimated that during the year the number of letters entrusted to the department for delivery was 1,512,200,000, in addition to 188,800,000 post-cards, 389,500,000 book packets and circulars, 152,300,000 newspapers, and 36,732,000 parcels, making a gross total of 2,279,532,000. compared with the previous year these figures show an increase of 3.6 per cent. in letters, 4.8 in post-cards, 5.6 in book packets and circulars, 0.8 in newspapers, and 11.8 in parcels, the increase in the total being 3.9. it is calculated that the average number of letters addressed to each person was 41, of postcards 5, of book packets and circulars 10, of newspapers 4, of parcels 1; or a grand average of 61. the distribution of these figures over given areas was marked by the usual disproportion. of the total delivery about 85 per cent. was in england and wales (28 per cent. being in the london postal district), 9.0 per cent. was in scotland, and 6.0 per cent. in ireland. the total number of letters registered was 10,814,722, being an increase of 0.3 per cent. the constantly growing work of the department necessitates an increase in the numerical strength of the staff. the postmaster-general shows that the permanent establishment consists of about 56,460 persons, being an increase of 1,609 over last year. of the 3,872 females employed, 751 are engaged as clerks in the central offices in london, dublin, and edinburgh, and 3,121 as telegraphists, counter-women, sorters, &c., throughout the kingdom. in addition to this staff about 48,900 supernumeraries are employed in the country to assist in the general work of the post office. of these 16,000 are females. the parcel post continues to be much used for the transmission of flowers, game, &c. it is calculated that over 12,000 parcels, containing upwards of 45,000 grouse, were received in london last autumn, and in the month of march vegetables in considerable quantities arrived in parcels from algiers, while it was also noticed that in one week 3,787 parcels containing hats were posted in london alone. as an illustration of the use made of this service by certain firms, it may be mentioned that two firms in london each posted 70,000 parcels at one time, while a third posted 5,000 parcels. the total postage paid on these parcels amounted to £1,875. the "dead letter" department, as it is popularly known, has been called upon to deal with 13,436,600 letters, newspapers, postcards, packets, and parcels. these figures mark a decrease of 785,387, which is attributed firstly to the absence of a general election, and secondly to the progress of education, "which causes letter writers to exercise more care and accuracy in addressing letters." the report continues:-"of the total number received 412,122 were unreturnable; 175,408 were registered or contained enclosures of value, and 25,726 were wholly unaddressed. of these unaddressed letters 1,553 contained money and cheques, &c., amounting to £7,111. the careless and insecure manner in which the public send articles through the post is shown by the facts that no less than 24,727 articles of all sorts, including 289 coins, were received, having escaped from their covers or wrappers, and that the addresses had become detached, through insufficient fastening, from 4,578 parcels, many of which contained matter of a perishable nature, which was thus lost to the owners. "during the year ended december 31st, 1887, the deposits in the post office savings bank numbered 6,916,327; the amount being £16,535,932, as compared with 6,562,395 deposits, amounting to £15,696,852 the year before, being an increase of 353,932 in number and £839,080 in amount. the sum credited to depositors for interest was £1,244,074, an increase of £74,484 over the previous year. the total amount standing to the credit of depositors at the end of the year was £53,974,065, being an increase of £3,099,727 over last year. this total is exclusive of the sum of £3,345,106 government stock held by depositors. the number of new accounts opened during the year was 794,592 as compared with 758,270 in 1886; and the accounts closed were 574,252 as compared with 562,499." dealing with the telegraph business, it is shown that the number of messages forwarded during the year was 53,403,425, being an increase of 3,159,786. a reminiscence of the queen's jubilee is fittingly recorded. the events connected with the celebration caused an immense increase in telegraph work in london, amounting to nearly 60 per cent. over the ordinary average, and on the day preceding the jubilee ceremony no less than 30,597 local messages were transmitted through the central station, the total number of messages dealt with on that day in the central office being 124,291. the most valuable, pure, useful, and durable of all metals, is tried gold; so is tried faith, among all the christian virtues.--_jackson._ it is not enough in this world to "mean well." we ought to do well. thoughtfulness, therefore, becomes a duty, and gratitude one of the graces. nature her own surgeon. equally worthy of admiration, and all but equally complex, is the process by which nature repairs a fractured limb, especially when the injury is such that the broken ends of bone cannot be brought exactly into their proper positions. it is remarkable, too, how she adapts her process to the different habits of her patients. in the case of a simple fracture, if the parts that have been disjoined are set close together in their normal line--if it be the leg of a dog, for example--there is first a hard sheath, called a "callus," formed round the fracture, and this "callus" permits a restricted use of the injured limb, even before the two parts have grown together. it is, however, only a temporary provision, necessitated by the natural restlessness of the lower animals. after the fracture has completely healed the "callus" gradually disappears. a human case is treated differently. here, unless it be a broken rib (which requires the provision in consequence of its incessant motion in respiration), the healing takes place ordinarily without the formation of any _outer_ "callus." sometimes the broken ends cannot be--or at all events are not--brought into their proper relative positions. is it possible, it may be asked, that nature can provide the means for meeting such an emergency, when, that is to say, the two portions of bone to be joined are all awry, and something quite new--in fact, a kind of bridge, and a bridge not merely serving the purpose of a solid connection between opposite banks, but like the bridges which carry the appliances of modern civilization, connecting the nerves, which answer to the telegraph wires, and the veins and arteries corresponding to our water and other conduits, has to be constructed? nature's engineering is equal even to this task.--_quiver._ about swearing. a chat with my boys. some boys seem to think that it is manly to swear. passing along the street, one is shocked to hear oaths from well-dressed, intelligent boys, who evidently belong to cultivated christian families. i am going to tell the boys a true story about swearing, which i trust will influence them to break themselves of this ungentlemanly and wicked habit. "when i was a young lad," said a gentleman, "i learned to swear. i had a good christian mother, and she had taught me what a heinous sin it is to use the name of god in vain. but i heard other boys swearing, and i thought it was very manly to swear as they did, and i tried it too. at first the words of an oath came stumbling along, and i felt all the time i was using them that god would strike me dead. but after a while i could swear as easily and fearlessly as some of my companions. but i never swore before my mother. i used the lord's name in vain so often that it seemed as if he had forsaken me, and left me to my sins. i became wicked and reckless. "when i was fifteen years old i went to sea. my mother reluctantly gave her consent, only because she knew that i would go without it if she did not. my father was dead, and i was her only son. i had no idea then what my mother's feelings must have been; now i realize what she must have suffered in parting with me. "when i went to sea i swore in the worst manner. in fact, i scarcely spoke a word that was not accompanied by an oath. after a three years' voyage i came home. my mother met me with great kindness and affection. she had prepared a most tempting supper for me. my trunk was being brought into the door, when a misunderstanding between myself and the man who had brought it, about the pay, aroused my anger, and, forgetting where i was, i swore as only a rough seaman can swear. when oath after oath had passed my lips, i chanced to look at my mother, who stood near me in the hall. her face was as white as the face of the dead, and an indescribable expression upon it that i can never, never forget. i saw that she was falling, and i put my arm around her to support her. she shrank away from my touch, and fell senseless to the floor. i paid the man the price he demanded, closed the door, lifted my mother up, and laid her on the lounge. i thought i had killed her. oh, the feelings of remorse that filled my heart at that moment! but she opened her eyes, and seeing me standing before her, said, 'oh, my son, you have broken my heart!' i assured her with tears and kisses that i would never swear again, but the habit had taken such strong hold on me that i found myself swearing unconsciously many times a day. my mother did not enjoy the long-anticipated visit of her only son. her spirit seemed crushed, and i know she felt that she had lost her boy, and a reckless, wicked man had come home in his stead. with many tears and kind words of pleading she bade me 'good-bye' when, in a few weeks after, i started on my second sea voyage. at the first port at which we stopped after leaving home, i received a letter from my aunt, containing the sad news of my dear mother's death. instantly that mother's face, as it appeared to me on the evening i returned home, was before me. i threw myself on my knees in my cabin, and pleaded for forgiveness. i resolved with god's help to lead a different life. but habits of sin, that begin in cobwebs, end in iron chains. it was not easy to break away from them. but every time i began to use an oath, my mother's face, as it looked that night, came before me. i shall never forget it to my dying day. with god's help, i have overcome that terrible sin. i would give everything i possess could i only speak to her once more, and tell her my sorrow and remorse. but she is silent in the grave." when the gentleman had finished his sad story, he said, "when you are writing something for the children, tell the boys this story i have told you, and tell them always to remember that a sinful habit may begin as a cobweb, but it will end as an iron chain about their souls."--_baptist._ the word with power. "jesus, who lived above the sky, came down to be a man and die. and those kind hands that did such good, they nailed them to a cross of wood. and, out of pity, jesus said, he'd bear the punishment instead." an aged woman sat alone by the fireside, when mr. ---came in, and simply exclaimed, as he looked out at the window, "the lord said, 'i came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance' (mark ii. 17). 'not the righteous.' what a mercy that is." no more was said, and mr. ---left the room, but at night, when in bed, the aged one said to her sister, who occupied the same room with her, "mr. ---came into the room below, and, as if speaking to himself, uttered these words, 'i came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. not the righteous. what a mercy that is!' and he went out, and said no more, but they made the tears roll down my face. there is hope for me." "a word in season" the lord alone can give to be effectual. then, "how good it is." bless his holy name, he shall have all the praise, for ever and ever. d. f. _august, 1888._ the precious blood of christ. a fountain fulness still remains of pardoning blood from jesus' veins, though millions have its virtues tried, and from its riches been supplied. and yet it ever is the same to all that come in jesus' name; not one that to it shall repair will ever perish in despair. it makes the filthy sinner clean, though vile as i or magdalene; here david lost his crimson sin, and thousands more as well as him. manasseh here lost all his crimes, and now in glory brightly shines; also dear paul, of sinners chief, from this dear fountain got relief, and writes so sweetly of its power to save e'en to a dying hour; yea, all the while he travelled here, this fountain was to him most dear. no savèd sinner ever knew better than paul what blood can do, for he himself its power had tested, and on its efficacy rested. and all the hosts around the throne bear witness to what blood has done; their holy joy and heavenly bliss is concentrated all in this. oh, may this joy and peace be mine when called to leave the things of time! to sing of jesus' love and blood, and dwell for ever with my god. b. w. little helps by large hearts. a friend had been sitting a little while by the bed-side of a poor woman--rendered utterly helpless from paralysis--reading the scriptures to her, when the door was gently opened, and three neatly-dressed little girls entered the room, each carrying a small basket. one of them approached the bed, and after a few simple and kind inquiries, held up the little basket she had in her hand, saying, "my mother sent you this, and hopes soon to come and see you." the poor woman thanked the child gratefully, and said, "put it away, my dear, for me." the little girl seemed quite used to the employment. she went over to a cupboard, emptied carefully the contents of her basket, and with a modest "good-bye," the three children withdrew. the poor woman then gave an explanation to the friend who was present. "these little girls," she said, "are the children of a very respectable butcher, and every saturday afternoon their mother employs them to carry about to poor people scraps of meat and bones. they are nice children, and take quite a pleasure in doing it, and they have given me, and many others, many a good dinner." now, who can calculate the amount of good resulting from the thoughtful charity of this mother? we read thus of god's redeemed people--"their works do follow them"--not to heaven for recompense, as some vainly imagine, but on the earth. continually we see the truth of this in the effects produced, after the lapse of years, from works done by those whose bones have long been turned to dust. who can tell the influence this weekly act may have upon these three children, if spared to grow up to womanhood? and thus, when their mother's place knows her no more, her "works will follow her." the penny piece. i give the following from the lips of one who was well acquainted with the facts:-a frost had been raging for thirteen weeks. the consequence was that out-door labourers, for the most part, were stopped in their employment. among these was a poor gardener who had a wife and five or six children. he was at length reduced to great straits. he had spent all but his last penny, and had not the slightest prospect of more. passing down a certain street one day, he happened to see a poor man standing in the lobby of a church or chapel. his heart yearned over him, and he thought, "how i should like to help him; but i have only a penny left for myself and family." still, he felt that he could not resist the inclination. he instantly turned round, stepped back, and gave the man his last penny. immediately there came a peculiar light and gladness into his soul. instead of being burdened by his destitution, he was relieved by it. he was rich in his poverty. that very night the long frost broke, and in the morning he resumed his work. he had not been long in the garden before his employer appeared. addressing him, he said, "i am sure you must have felt the effects of this long frost very much. here is a sovereign for you." the poor gardener felt amazed, and, to use his own words, it was as though the lord said to him, "here's a sovereign for the penny you lent me last night." reader, it is written, "he that giveth to the poor lendeth unto the lord"; and again, "there is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." o. j. bad men excuse their faults; good men will leave them. a brand plucked out of the fire. while occasionally serving a destitute church, between three and four months ago, i was requested to visit a dying woman. i found her in the most distracting agony of bodily pain, but rejoicing at the same time in the consolations of the gospel. my visits afforded me much pleasure and edification. being informed that she had been once a most abandoned character, i solicited a friend to collect from her own mouth the history of her life, and since her death have been favoured with a very interesting and circumstantial account of this monument of mercy. when young she was deprived of both father and mother, but by friends was introduced into a genteel family, where after some time she fell into shameful sin. her friends abandoned her in her disgrace, but after she had endured much suffering, privation, and want, they were persuaded to receive her once more, and at length provided another eligible situation for her. thus restored, she might have lived in respect, but a particular circumstance which should operate as a warning, especially to servants, led her into a more dreadful course of iniquity than ever she had been guilty of before.[12] on the lord's day, instead of going to any place of worship, she contracted the habit of spending those sacred hours at the house of an acquaintance. here she formed her most fatal connections, and to this sin of sabbath-breaking she especially attributed her ruin. a bad man persuaded her to accompany him to london. here for some years she lived a most profligate life, the circumstances of which cannot be detailed here, further than that sin which brings its own reward found her deserted, and in the lock hospital. after a dreadful operation she somewhat recovered, and went out, but only to follow her old sinful course. she was scarcely known to be sober for six years together. her wretched course of life was a continual burden to her. she often prayed, if such an one could be said to pray, that god would deliver her from it, and accompanied her prayers with resolves to forsake it; but all her resolutions were ineffectual till god's time of deliverance was come. at length she determined to return into the country again. she met with many distressing circumstances by the way, and upon her arrival, her friends would not receive her. she was therefore obliged to apply to the parish, being incapable of getting her living through her disordered state of body. the overseers provided her a room in a house with another woman, where, soon after she arrived, her complaint assumed an alarming nature, and threatened speedy dissolution. in the awful prospect of death she was seized with the most distracting horrors. calling to the woman with whom she lived, she cried, "i shall soon be gone, and hell will be my doom!" the woman told her she was mad, but she replied, with earnestness, "i am not. i know it will, for i am not prepared to die"; and immediately asked her if she knew where any minister lived? she had heard some whom they called "methodists" while in the hospital at london. even then she could not laugh at them as many of her unfortunate companions did, but was often much affected by their prayers and sermons, and looked upon them as men living in the fear of god. the recollection of this suggested the eager inquiry after them now. but the woman said, "they cannot save your soul." [12] young readers, mark this dreadful example of sin, and may the lord bless you with wisdom and strength to resist such temptations to evil. if you would be spared suffering and shame, and spare your best friends much sorrow, be careful what company you keep, and remember that god's eye is upon you. [illustration: "she procured a lodging with a serious female." (_see page 230._)] "i know they cannot," she replied, "but they can pray with me and for me to one who can. go instantly and fetch one, for i am going to hell." the woman still continued to laugh at her, and told the neighbours she was deranged. one of them, however, more compassionate than the rest, coming in, said she knew a good man who lived near. he was not a minister, but she would go and fetch him. "make him promise to come," said the poor creature, "before you leave him, and then, if he be a good man, he will come." while the person was gone, she cried to the lord to send him. he came and found her in the greatest agonies of mind. she told him that she was the vilest sinner that ever lived, described the course of life she had led, and concluded by saying she saw hell before her eyes, and that she should be lost for ever. he pointed out the way of salvation by christ, told her it was free for the vilest, spoke of the encouragement there was for the chief of sinners who came to him, prayed with her, and left her a little more composed. she made him promise to come the next day, which he did twice. in a short time after, her sorrow was turned into gladness, and she was enabled to rejoice in christ as her saviour, whilst the young man who visited her was reading the verse- "look as when thy grace beheld the harlot in distress; dried her tears, her pardon sealed, and bade her go in peace. foul like her, and self-abhorred, i at thy feet for mercy groan; turn and look upon me, lord, and break my heart of stone." soon after this, god removed the violence of her complaint, and thereby gave her an opportunity of proving the reality of her conversion. as soon as possible she went to the meeting, but oh, the persecution she now met with from her former companions! she was obliged to remove from place to place to escape their violence. they pelted her with stones, broke her windows, &c., because, as they said, she was a hypocrite. but she was enabled to endure it with patience, and after a time procured a lodging with a serious female. now she seemed almost in heaven. she could now go in and out, none daring to make her afraid, and could meditate in peace on the gracious dealings of god with her soul. she became a member of the church in which she continued as long as she lived. she seemed to grow daily in an affecting discovery of the evil of sin and of her own vileness, and was often quite overwhelmed with a sense of the goodness of god, both with respect to her temporal and spiritual concerns. she was frequently enabled to rejoice in the lord with exceeding joy, though labouring under the most dreadful pain, being literally full of wounds, the sad fruit of her former life. she occasionally experienced great conflicts with satan, but the lord graciously interposed, and brought her off more than conqueror. several months before her death she was grievously afflicted, but in general very comfortable. on the saturday preceding her dissolution, a friend called to see her, and inquired after the state of her mind. she said she was happy in god, longed to depart, and could scarcely contain herself. she was so filled with love to her blessed lord, for his unbounded goodness to her. on the monday, the person with whom she lodged said she was very comfortable in her mind. her spirit soared beyond the fear of death; but through extreme weakness she could not speak much, and on tuesday she departed, we trust, to sing the praises of that miraculous grace which snatched her as a brand from the burning. conduct is the great profession. what a man does tells us what he is. admiral pye and the inquisitors. admiral pye having been on a visit to southampton, and the gentleman under whose roof he resided observing an unusual intimacy between him and his secretary, inquired into the degree of their relationship. the admiral informed him that they were not related, but their intimacy arose from a singular circumstance, which, by his permission, he would relate. the admiral said, when he was a captain he was cruising in the mediterranean. while on that station he received a letter from shore, stating that the unhappy author of the letter was by birth an englishman; that, having been on a voyage to spain, he was enticed while there to become a papist, and, in process of time, was made a member of the inquisition; that there he beheld the abominable wickedness and barbarities of the inquisitors. his heart recoiled at having embraced a religion so horribly cruel and so repugnant to the nature of god, that he was stung with remorse to think that, if his parents knew _what_ and _where_ he was, their hearts would break with grief; that he was resolved to escape, if he (the captain) would send a boat on shore at such a time and place, but begged secrecy, since, if his intentions were discovered, he should be immediately assassinated. the captain returned for answer that he could not with propriety send a boat, but if he could devise any means to come on board, he would receive him as a british subject, and protect him. he did so; but being missed, there was soon raised a hue and cry, and he was followed to the ship. a holy inquisitor demanded him, but he was refused; another, in the name of his holiness the pope, claimed him, but the captain did not know him, or any other master, but his own sovereign, king george. at length a third holy brother approached. the young man recognized him at a distance, and, in terror, ran to the captain, entreating him not to be deceived by him, for he was the most false, wicked, and cruel monster in all the inquisition. he was introduced, the young man being present, and, to obtain his object, began with the bitterest accusations against him; then he turned to the most fulsome flatteries of the captain; and, lastly, offered him a sum of money to resign him. the captain treated him with apparent attention, said his offer was very handsome, and, if what he affirmed were true, the person in question was unworthy of the english name or of his protection. the holy brother was elated; he thought his errand was accomplished. while drawing his purse-strings, the captain inquired what punishment would be inflicted upon him. he replied that it was uncertain; but as his offences were atrocious, it was likely that his punishment would be exemplary. the captain asked if he thought he would be burned in a dry pan. he replied, that must be determined by the holy inquisition, but it was not improbable. the captain then ordered the great copper to be heated, but no water to be put in. all this while the young man stood trembling, his cheeks resembling death; he expected to become an unhappy victim to avarice and superstition. the cook soon announced that the orders were executed. "then i command you to take this fellow," pointing to the inquisitor, "and fry him alive in the copper." this unexpected command thunderstruck the holy father. alarmed for himself, he rose to be gone. the cook began to bundle him away. "oh, good captain! good captain! spare me, spare me!" "have him away," replied the captain. "oh, no, my good captain!" "have him away. i'll teach him to attempt to bribe a british commander to sacrifice the life of an englishman to gratify a herd of bloody men." down the inquisitor fell upon his knees, offering him all his money, and promising never to return if he would let him begone. when the captain had sufficiently alarmed him, he dismissed him, warning him never to come again on such an errand. what must have been the reverse of feelings in the young man to find himself thus happily delivered. he fell upon his knees, in a flood of tears, before the captain, and poured a thousand blessings upon his brave and noble deliverer. "this," said the admiral to the gentleman, "is the circumstance that began our acquaintance. i took him to be my servant; he served me from affection; mutual attachment ensued, and it has inviolably subsisted and increased to this day."--_from cyclopædia of moral and religious anecdotes, with introductory essay by dr. cheever._ child heroism. "mother, just look what i've come upon! i found the small board at the back loose, and beneath it, this." thus spoke julia white, who was engaged in scrubbing out the single cupboard of their one room, and as she uttered the words she held up a paper with two sovereigns wrapped in it. "why are you so prying, child?" said the mother. "you would have been so much better without the knowledge of my secret. now, if your father should come home tipsy to-night, you will be forced to tell him where the money is, and i shall lose the whole of it. wherever to hide it away from you, i don't know." poor julia looked frightened enough, for she was only eleven years of age, and her dread of her father, who frequently showed himself a ferocious ruffian, was extreme; but there was no help for the case now. the mother had to leave in little more than an hour to watch a patient to whom she was night nurse, and there was no time to find another hiding-place. to carry the money with her where she was going would scarcely have been safe, so, after seeing little nancy, with the baby, safely returned, and giving the latter its meal at her breast, the good, hard-working woman departed to fulfil her engagement. the children left alone, the terror of the elder one could not escape the notice of the younger, although she was only a little over seven; and she at length said-"what can be the matter with you, julia?" "i know where mother's money is, and am afraid father will come home and want it." "tell him you know nothing about it. he always believes you." "nancy!" she had been rightly taught by a good mother, and young as she was, realized that this was not the course to take, so, kneeling by the side of her child sister, she offered the following simple, but heartfelt, prayer-"dear jesus, please don't let father come home to-night and want mother's money; but if he should do so, please help me not to tell him where it is." the strength she had thus gained was soon put to a cruel test, for into the neat, cleanly room there quickly rushed the brute who represented all that she had ever known of father. the scene that ensued was of a character not unfrequent in low london districts, but none the less worthy of record. poor little nancy, dreading what might follow, caught up the baby, and fled with it into a corner of the room, as the safest place of refuge, for we ought to have stated that the ruffian had locked the door upon his entrance. catching his eldest daughter's arm, he said, in not an over loud voice-"get me your mother's money." meeting with no reply from the white-faced girl, he next said-"do you know where it is?" but still there was no answer. what followed seems dreadful to relate, suiting better with the nature of south sea or african cannibals than with the natives of christian england. first twisting the girl's arm round, and causing her dreadful pain, he next bestowed upon her with his brute strength a succession of awful blows; but, though she could not keep back her cries, she did not yield to him in the least. wearied at length, he flung her from him on to the wall, and during the ensuing five minutes, with bursts of terrible oaths, threatened that, if she did not acquaint him with her secret, he would kill her; but, mercifully, the neighbours were enabled at the end of this time to break into the room, or there is no telling what mischief might have followed. but we cannot finish without describing the heroism of poor little nancy, which almost equalled that of her sister. dodging from side to side during the struggle, now in this corner and now in that, and shielding the baby with her youthful person, she, with wonderful activity and courage, kept it from harm. it seems something like divine retribution that this dreadful father this very evening received a terrible beating in the public-house, and his system being unhealthy, as the result of drinking habits, he died in hospital of his injuries. s. dennis. there is a pre-established harmony between the voice of the shepherd and the heart of the sheep. "if ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will and it shall be done unto you." little kindnesses. for the intercourse of social life, it is by little acts of watchful kindness recurring daily and hourly--and opportunities of doing kindnesses, if sought for, are for ever starting up--it is by words, by tones, by gestures, by looks, that affection is won and preserved. he who neglects these trifles, yet boasts that, whenever a great sacrifice is called for, he shall be ready to make it, will rarely be loved. the likelihood is, he will not make it, and if he does, it will be much rather for his own sake than for his neighbour's. many persons, indeed, are said to be penny wise and pound foolish; but they who are penny foolish will hardly be pound wise, although selfish vanity may now and then for a moment get the better of selfish indolence, for wisdom will always have a microscope in her hand. a drunkard's will. i leave to society a ruined character, a wretched example, and a memory that will soon rot. i leave to my parents, during the rest of their lives, as much sorrow as humanity in a feeble and declining state can sustain. i leave to my brothers and sisters as much mortification and injury as i could bring on them. i leave my wife a broken heart, a life of wretchedness and shame, to weep over my premature death. i give and bequeath to each of my children, poverty, ignorance, and low character, and the remembrance that their father was a monster. we may as well attempt to bring pleasure out of pain as to unite indulgence in sin with the enjoyment of happiness.--_hodge._ the land of the giants. "_and we took all his cities at that time: there was not a city which we took not from them," &c._--deut. iii. 4, 5. sixty cities in one small province! can it be true? has not the copyist erred in his arithmetic? should it not be sixteen, or six? does it not appear improbable? the province mentioned, argob, is not more than thirty miles by twenty; and that within so limited a space there should be sixty cities, "besides unwalled towns a great many," can scarcely be accepted literally. now, it is a great blessing, for the confirmation of our faith in the truth of the bible, and the silencing of those who delighted in making others to be of a doubtful mind, that the literal truth of the statement is fully established--not by a comparison of parallel passages; not by a new translation of the text; not by the testimony of ancient historians; but by the remains of the cities themselves. there are they in argob, the oldest specimens of domestic architecture in the whole world. english travellers have visited the wild land of the giants; they have penetrated into the rocky recesses of argob; they have slept in the deserted homes of the rephaim; and have come back to tell us that the stones reared by those ancient idolaters bear witness to the truth of the living god. the rev. j. l. porter spent a considerable time in exploring the cities of bashan. at burak he lodged in a city of several hundred houses, all deserted, but all in good repair, though built two or three thousand years ago. the walls of these houses were five feet thick, formed of large blocks of hewn stone, put together without lime or cement of any kind. the roofs were formed of long blocks of the same black basalt, measuring twelve feet in length, eighteen inches in breadth, and six inches in thickness. the doors were stone slabs hung upon pivots formed of projecting parts of the slabs, working in sockets in the lintel and threshold; the windows were guarded with stone shutters--everything was of stone, as if the builders had designed each edifice to last for ever. the cities have endured, but the inhabitants have fled. you pass the ruined gateway where stern warriors kept watch, and from whose towers the watchmen swept the country and signalled the coming of the foe. all is hushed. rank weeds and grass, brambles and creeping plants, have overgrown the well-made roads; and in the massive houses, where once on a time happy groups assembled, and children shouted with joy, the fox and the jackal make their dwelling, while owls and daws take possession of the roof. here is a city that must at one period have contained at least twenty thousand inhabitants. once its streets were noisy and bustling, and the dealers made their shrewd bargains in the markets, while the grandees dwelt in their stone palaces, haughty of spirit, as if the slaves who waited on them were of another flesh than theirs. here dwelt the giants, and after them jews, and greeks, and romans, saracens and turks, each leaving memorials of their presence; but all gone--the whole abandoned to the wild birds and the beasts of prey. there are palaces with thorns and thistles growing in the chief room; there are temples with branches of trees shooting through the gaping walls; there are tombs festooned with the rich luxuriance of nature; there is everything to tell of desolation and decay. you remember that we read in joshua that the kingdom of og, the giant, included all bashan unto salcah; and the israelites took and occupied the whole land, from mount hermon unto salcah. this is the frontier city of bashan, and is one of the most remarkable in palestine. there are about five hundred houses still remaining, a number of square towers, a few mosques, and a great old castle on the top of a hill. but the city, held at first by the giants, and at last by the turks, has long been deserted, and the tread of horses on the paved street disturbs only a fox in its den or a wild bird in its nest. the castle hill is about three hundred feet in height, the base encircled by a moat. the building itself appears to have been of jewish foundation, though it is probable that the site was occupied by a still older fortress. there is roman masonry in the work, and the saracens have added to the beauty, if not to the strength, of the structure; but though the exterior wall remains, the interior is choked with rubbish. the summit of the castle commands an extensive prospect--a varied, romantic, but wild scene of rugged rocks and luxuriant verdure, comprising no less than thirty deserted cities. on the right stretches moab, on the left arabia; behind, in terraced slopes, the hills of bashan--a sad and solemn scene of utter desolation. bible enigma. a son of gideon. a king of moab. an untruthful woman. a man slain by god. the son of a persecuted woman. what did the israelites once desire? a god-fearing man. an officer of a king. one of the apostles. the initials will form a passage of scripture. alfred clapson (aged 10 years). _reigate._ our bible class. the good shepherd, his lambs and sheep. (isaiah xl. 11.) we know that jesus is the person of whom our text speaks, because his herald and forerunner is described in the third verse, and john the baptist applied the prophecy to himself, when the pharisees wanted to know who he really was--"the voice of one crying in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the lord." he came to teach the necessity of repentance, to reprove the pride of the pharisee, bringing low the hills and mountains of their self-esteem; while the despised tax-gatherers and soldiers were taught how to rise, by the grace of god, to the position of honourable and useful members of society, and thus the valleys were exalted (luke iii. 6-14). god, according to his promise, sent his prophet to turn the hearts of the people in some measure before jesus himself appeared (mal. iv. 5, 6). and then, though in a human form, the "lord god came with strong hand," "mighty to save." his "reward was with him, and the recompense of his work was before him," and he did then, and does still, "feed his people like a shepherd." it was the lord god who came among men; but how did he come? not with earthly pomp and glory, and his heavenly majesty was but dimly seen. i thought of this on july 17th last, when the prince of wales went with the princess to open the great northern hospital at upper holloway, london. the royal party were attired in deep mourning, on account of the recent death of the emperor frederick of germany, and so quietly did their carriage pass along that many scarcely recognized them, and nearly all who were looking expectantly for the prince's coming were greatly disappointed at the absence of a showy retinue. yet he fulfilled all that he promised, and more, for he, with his wife and daughters, visited all the patients in the hospital, speaking kindly words, and doubtless giving real pleasure to those afflicted ones. so, when that infinitely greater one, the prince of peace, came, he did all that had been predicted of him; and though even his own disciples expected grandeur which they did not find, and for a while were grieved and perplexed, yet when, by the outpouring of the holy spirit, they better understood his mission, they perceived that he had finished his work most gloriously, and had "done all things well." the shepherd of israel, then, is the lord god, of whom david sang, "the lord" (jehovah) "is my shepherd: i shall not want," which jesus followed up by saying, "i am the good shepherd, and am come that my sheep might have life, and have more abundantly all the blessings my people enjoyed before i came into this world" (see john x.). "he shall feed his flock like a shepherd." jesus here appears as a king as well as a shepherd, for good kings care for and defend their subjects, but none can do as he does, who is "over all, blessed for evermore." all other shepherds must lead their sheep into green pastures, or procure them food in some other way, but jesus supplies his people from himself. all the fulness of love, grace, and blessing are his own, and as the poet sings- "on a dying christ i feed; this is meat and drink indeed." christ once crucified for the redemption of his loved ones, but now alive for evermore, is the life and joy of all who believe on his name. and these sheep are divided into two classes--lambs, and their parents. those who are young, inexperienced, and weak, like christ's followers were when he was on earth, how gently he "carried" them, guarding, supporting, and instructing so gradually until they became able to lead others in the ways of god. and still he tends his feeble ones with special care. he is kind and full of compassion, and they who most need his protection are most sure to have it, for he fully knows the need. but the older sheep need the shepherd's consideration as much as the lambs of the flock. those who have young ones to nourish and care for must be gently led. the apostle paul said that "the care of all the churches of christ pressed daily upon him" (2 cor. xi. 28), yet he could tell how the lord comforted both himself and his fellow-workers in all their trials, so that they were enabled to comfort others; and speaking from his own experience, he could encourage his friends to "cast all their care upon him" who ever cares for all his people. and it is jesus only who can really lead and feed his flock. ministers of the gospel are called "pastors," "shepherds." as christ's servants, they may be, and often are, the means of leading their hearers into green pastures, and of restoring the wandering and the weak; yet every true pastor is a sheep after all, and all spiritual, heavenly power and blessing must proceed from him alone. i was much interested, some time ago, in a pretty little poem, illustrated by the picture of a splendid ram, standing beside his wounded little one, calling loudly for the help he could not render; and the shepherd, hearing his cries, hastened to the spot, and carried the helpless little thing to the fold. and methought, "is not this a beautiful parable for us?" if we are longing to help and heal the feeble, the straying, and the sin-sick, and feel how little we can do, let us seek to follow this sheep's example, and call upon our shepherd- "whose ears attend the softest call, whose eyes can never sleep." he is the good shepherd, for he gave his life for the sheep; the chief shepherd, possessing all the amiable and winning attractions that charm and draw the heart; and the great shepherd, almighty and unchanging, "able to save to the uttermost all who come unto god by him." oh, that we all may know his love, which never can be fully known on earth, and enjoy the sweet privilege of commending all our loved ones to his gracious care, assured that he is able to do all that his heart desireth, and that- "with heaven and earth at his command, he waits to answer prayer." our next subject will be, _the glory of christ, as described by himself in john xvii_. yours affectionately, h. s. l. the power of kindness. elihu burritt, speaking of the power of kindness, says, "there is no power of love so hard to get and keep as a kind voice. a kind hand is deaf and dumb. it may be rough in flesh and blood, yet do the work of a soft heart, and do it with a soft touch. but there is no one thing that love so much needs as a sweet voice to tell what it means and feels; and it is hard to get and keep it in the right tone." bible subjects for each sunday in october. oct. 7. commit to memory rom. ix. 25. oct. 14. commit to memory rom. ix. 26. oct. 21. commit to memory rom. ix. 27. oct. 28. commit to memory rom. ix. 28. prize essay. charity. paul says (1 cor. xiii. 4) that "charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up"; and in the thirteenth verse, "and now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." now, this shows that charity is a very great and good thing, and that we ought to desire to have charity above all things. "if we have not charity, we are nothing." charity means "love," and that is the greatest of all good gifts. love supplies all other wants, however hard they may be; and so, if we have not it, we are not by any means complete, for "above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness" (col. iii. 14). this teaches us that charity is perfect above all things, and that we are to "love our enemies, and pray for those that despitefully use us"; also, we are exhorted to "let brotherly love continue." "brethren, let us walk together in the bonds of love and peace; can it be a question whether brethren should from conflict cease? 'tis in union, hope, and joy, and love increase." there would be fewer quarrels and less sin if every one had charity. "charity," or love, "covers a multitude of sins." "flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the lord out of a pure heart" (2 tim. ii. 22). in 1 corinthians xvi. 14, it says, "let all your things be done with charity," which means that all our actions are to be done in love. "god is love." jesus had charity or love when he was on earth. his love knew no bounds. when god sent his only son jesus christ down into the world, it was done thoroughly out of love to sinful man. jesus himself was full of love, for he prayed for his persecutors when he was on the cross, and said, "father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." "high beyond imagination is the love of god to man; far too deep for human reason; fathom that it never can: love eternal richly dwells in christ the lamb." "if god so loved us, ought we not to love one another?" charity is being kind and loving to one another, and helping one another when we can. if we are not kind and gentle to them, we have not charity, and do not love each other. when people do ever such great things, if they do it for self-praise, and not for love, it does not profit them anything. if we love our neighbours as ourselves, we shall never do them any ill, but rather "kill them by kindness," even if they are inclined to resent our charity, or love. jessie martha collins (aged 11 years). _19, platt street, pancras road, london, n. w._ [very good essays have been sent by ada dudley mote, e. b. knocker, a. j. wells, h. f. forfeitt, k. e. thomas, w. e. cray, c. bowman, b. e. j. noakes, a. judd, c. lack, winnie langman, and f. lawrence.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of foxe's "book of martyrs." the subject for december will be, "the disobedience of our first parents and its results"; and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the loss of all things for christ." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, before the twentieth of october, in order that the volume may be completed for binding.] answer to bible enigma. (_page 213_) "_persecution._"--2 timothy iii. 12. p otiphar genesis xxxvii. 36. e noch genesis iv. 17. r ehoboam 1 kings xi. 43. s apphire ezekiel i. 26. e bal joshua viii. 30. c andace acts viii. 27. u r genesis xi. 28. t hyatira revelation i. 11. i ram genesis xxxvi. 43. o thniel judges iii. 9. n oah numbers xxvii. 1. minnie legg (aged 12 years). _edinburgh._ an old clock's advice. a correspondent says that in his great-grandfather's house, as he has heard his mother tell, there was a clock on which was the following inscription- "here i stand both day and night, to tell the time with all my might; do thou example take by me, and serve thy god as i serve thee." the old clock remained in the family for many years, but the time of which it told so faithfully at last conquered it, as it conquers all things on earth. interesting items. the national sunday league lament a deficit of £110 as a result of the band performances in the three parks. the oldest and biggest tree in the world is at mascoli, near mount etna. the trunk is seventy yards round, and a flock of sheep can take refuge in it. jerusalem is rapidly becoming again a veritable city of the jews. in 1880 there were probably not more than 5,000 jews there; now there are more than 30,000. the "threepenny-bit" may well be regarded as the "church coin." at the collection at dr. parker's sunday evening meeting in queen anne street church, dunfermline, there were no fewer than 1,400 threepenny pieces. phonography, as a system of shorthand, is the best, simplest, soundest, and most scientific of any in existence. ninety-nine out of every hundred shorthand writers use it, and none other should be learned. the buttercup blooms in unwonted places. a horse belonging to a farmer near belford was having an old shoe removed, when a buttercup was found to have taken root between the hoof and the shoe, near the toe. it was in full bloom. this is the day of rapid travelling. a through railway service has been organised to run from charing cross to constantinople in seventy-six hours. thus, in three days and a half, one will pass from the city of the queen to the city of the sultan. in england and wales the receipts for first-class railway season tickets last year amounted to £720,862, for second-class season tickets the receipts amounted to £665,203, and for those of the third-class (including workmen's weekly tickets) the amount was £358,142. among the rarities in dr. williams' library in grafton street, london, is a tiny shorthand bible, exquisitely written, which is said to have belonged to an apprentice, who, suspicious of james ii.'s intentions regarding protestantism, wrote the whole for himself, fearing that he might be deprived of his printed copy. drs. chauvel and nimier now announce that, in future warfare with the lebel rifle, the surgeons will not be perplexed by having to extract balls from wounded soldiers. these projectiles pass through the body, bones, and all, even when fired at a distance of from 1,800 to 2,000 metres (1,980 to 2,200 yards). a fortunate cobbler.--it is announced that a blackburn cobbler has just come in for a windfall in the shape of property valued at £40,000. he saw an advertisement some time ago with regard to some property in america, to which he has proved himself sole heir. he has left for the new world to take possession of his unexpected wealth. one day last august a boy, nine years old, went to a school treat, and ran in several races. on returning home he complained of headache, and next morning was seized with pains and became insensible, dying an hour afterwards. the post-mortem examination showed that death was the result of syncope, brought on by fatigue and excitement. a statement was made at the spanish armada convention at exeter hall, recently, to the effect that, during 1878, "in the poor country of ireland there had been bequeathed to the roman catholic church no less than £750,000 for masses for the souls of the departed." doubtless mr. isaacs had proof of this, for he referred to it as "an ascertained fact." a papyrus of extraordinary beauty and completeness, of the fourteenth century before our era, has been added to the british museum. it contains certain chapters of the "book of death," carefully copied out by a scribe of thebes. its remarkable feature are the illustrations. the colouring of these is as vivid as if the work had been done yesterday, instead of more than thirty centuries ago. an interesting discovery has just been made by dr. tschakort, professor of church history in the university of konigsberg, who has found in the library there numerous manuscript sermons and commentaries by luther, hitherto absolutely unknown. they were written in the years 1519 to 1521--that is, at the very culminating period of luther's work as a church reformer, after the burning of the papal bull, and before the diet of worms. strange stories occasionally come from the black country, but few are stranger than that which is related of a man living at bilston. a collier lost his eyesight in december through the explosion of a blasting cartridge, and the other week, as he was being led home from a neighbouring village by a brother, a terrific thunderstorm commenced. simultaneously with a flash of lightning, he experienced a piercing sensation from the eye to the back of the head and his sight was instantly restored. mildewed linen may be restored by soaping the spots, and while wet covering them with powdered chalk. the dead sea, at its northern end, is but thirteen feet in depth, but at the southern end it is thirteen hundred. chiswick cemetery.--the home secretary has ordered that a large tract of ground which has been recently acquired and added to the chiswick cemetery should be set aside for the use of the roman catholics of the district. a catholic total abstinence society has been brought into court in philadelphia under the laws against gambling. they pleaded that a benevolent enterprise such as theirs, though using lotteries, could not be regarded as a swindling speculation. "if such things are allowed to be carried on by professedly good people," said judge biddle, "it is inconsistent to call upon us to convict other people." the relation between the grab-bag and the gaming-table is not inconceivable. on june 8th last, a correspondent at shepherd's bush despatched a post-card from london, _viâ_ the brindisi and suez canal route, to hong kong, with the request that it might be forwarded to the addressee _viâ_ san francisco and new york. the card was duly received by the original sender a short time ago, the time taken in its transit round the world being exactly seventy days, which is about forty days less than the time taken ten years ago. the card was franked for 3½d. a thanksgiving day.--dr. franklin says that, in a time of great despondency among the first settlers of new england, it was proposed in one of their public assemblies to proclaim a fast. an old farmer arose, spoke of their provoking heaven with their complaints, reviewed their mercies, showed that they had much to be thankful for, and moved that, instead of appointing a day of fasting, they should appoint a day of thanksgiving. this was accordingly done, and the custom has continued ever since. diphtheria.--an american medical journal gives the following remedy for diphtheria, and says that where it has been applied promptly, it has never been known to fail. it is simply as follows:--"at the first indication of diphtheria in the throat of the child, make the room clean. then take a tin cup and pour into it a quantity of tar and turpentine, equal parts. then hold the cup over a fire so as to fill the room with the fumes. the patient, on inhaling the fumes, will fall asleep, and, when it awakes, it will cough up and spit out all the membranous matter, and diphtheria will pass off. the fumes of the tar and turpentine loose the matter in the throat, thus affording the relief that has baffled the skill of physicians." as the remedy is so simple, parents would do well to cut this out and preserve it. an extraordinary affray took place at manchester on sunday, july 8th. the members of several prominent orange lodges in the city were proceeding to a church, where special services were to be held, when they encountered in a narrow thoroughfare, inhabited chiefly by irish roman catholics, a band of men and women, who rushed upon them with hatchets, knives, pokers, and bottles. two men were seriously injured, and, but for the timely arrival of thirty policemen, the affray would probably have had a fatal termination. how the collie reached his home.--the following is a true story about a collie who took a hansom. he was lost in oxford street, london, so, after having spent some time in looking for him, his mistress went home, and what was her surprise, when she arrived, to see him in the hall. the butler told her the story, and it was this. after the dog had been lost, he saw an empty hansom, which he got into; and the cabby could not get him out, for he showed his teeth. he called a policeman, who could not move him either, but with some difficulty they read the name and address on his collar, and settled that it would be best to drive him to his home. they shut the doors, and drove him home. when he arrived, the cabby rang the bell, and asked for his fare (which he of course got), and then the butler opened the doors, and the dog jumped out as if nothing had happened.--from _little folks' magazine_ for august. walking from edinburgh to london.--mr. ross fraser, who, accompanied by a collie dog, started from edinburgh on august 15th to walk to london in eight days, an average of about fifty miles per day, arrived in london on sunday evening about eight o'clock. the pedestrian was awaited by a large concourse of people at shoreditch church, and heartily greeted. the route taken was from edinburgh viâ berwick, newcastle, durham, darlington, northallerton, boroughbridge, wetherby, doncaster, retford, newark, grantham, stamford, huntingdon, royston, ware, and edmonton. mr. fraser seemed somewhat footsore on his arrival, but the dog appeared in no way the worse for the journey. the walk has not been accomplished in the time originally laid down, as mr. fraser's feet gave way owing to the unsuitability of his boots for the task he had taken upon himself. after a rest on this side of berwick he resumed his walk, and finished the journey in excellent health. [illustration: william, prince of orange.] great events. the great events which occurred in august, 1588, and november, 1688, are worthy of our remembrance and grateful acknowledgment before god, therefore we bring before our young readers, in a special way, the subjects of the spanish armada and the accession of william of orange, which are of the greatest importance to all true englishmen. the following extracts, taken from an address, by lord robert montagu, at a commemoration meeting at leicester, will give our young readers an interesting and truthful account of the great historical facts referred to, in a very concise form. he said there had been many commemoration meetings throughout the country, and why did they hold them? what were those meetings? well, if he were asked that question, he should say that that meeting was a protest, and it was a commemoration. it was a protest against a conspiracy which had extended throughout the country, and had lasted a great number of years--a conspiracy to introduce one romanizing practice after another into the worship of the church of england, and endeavouring to assimilate, by all means possible, the church of england to the church of rome. it was a protest against an attempt to reduce this country again, and bring it under the domination of rome. it was a protest against the attempts that all governments in recent years had had in hand, and made--no matter whether liberal, whig, or conservative--to establish diplomatic relations with rome. it was, lastly, a protest against an attempt, now a few centuries old, to ruin the backbone of protestantism in ireland--he meant the protestant landlords, who were the chief friends of the union between england and ireland. on all those points they protested. but then that meeting was also a commemoration. commemorations, it was true, might be good, or they might be bad. no one would ever think of merely commemorating bloodshed and slaughter, but they often commemorated the deeds of daring and prowess on the part of their ancestors, and they did so in the hope that others would follow their example. he knew not whether that kind of thing was good, because such commemorations tended to increase and foster national pride; but there was one kind of commemoration which was absolutely and naturally good--he meant the commemoration of the signal mercies which god had vouchsafed to the land. in doing so, they were merely taking the advice of king david, who, speaking of his own people, said, "they remembered not the mercy of the lord, and so they provoked him at the red sea." and so also the apostle said, "we have received mercies, and therefore we faint not." therefore, what he (the speaker) proposed to do that evening was to ask them to consider the mercies god had shown to this country--great and signal mercies--in the year 1588, in the year 1688, and in the year 1788; and, in doing so, he hoped he should be able to bring this thought into their minds--that, having received mercies, they should "faint not." now, first, with regard to 1588, the commemoration of the spanish armada--the invincible armada, as it used to be called. they would remember, doubtless, from reading history, that king philip of spain was one of the most powerful monarchs that ever existed. the historian, macaulay, had told them that on his empire the sun never set. king philip counted upwards of one hundred millions of subjects, and he was by far the wealthiest sovereign that had existed since the days of darius, and he was also a cruel and bloodthirsty sovereign. they knew how many thousands he killed in the netherlands; how many poor protestants he had slaughtered there. he had burnt at the stake every one he could in his dominions who dared to study the bible. well, he it was whom the pope commissioned to make a crusade against this country, to conquer it, and reduce it, so that it might again come under the domination of rome. he was like pharaoh of old; he had let the children of israel go, and he repented himself of having done so, and sent an army to bring them back to the slavery of egypt; and so the pope, not having an army of his own, told philip, who had the most powerful army and navy in the world, to pursue those english who had escaped from the tyranny of rome and become protestants, and to bring them back again under the domination of the pope; and the pope, in order to encourage the monarch, promised him certain indulgences and two hundred thousand golden crowns as payment at the beginning of the expedition, and the payment of another two hundred thousand golden crowns as soon as he set foot in england. and the pope also, in order to make the task easier, set the jesuits in this country to stir up disaffection in england and scotland, and with the same object sent a special messenger to ireland in order to cause a rebellion there, and so call off the forces of england. philip at once sent to the duke of parma, his governor in belgium, instructions to prepare an army and fleet to co-operate with the spanish force as soon as the armada should arrive in the english channel. the armada consisted of 136 galleons, and forty smaller vessels, manned by twenty thousand marines; and there was also something else sent. what was that something else? the chief inquisitor, and 150 other inquisitors--dominican monks--to act together, and to use every possible engine of torture, and in that way to convert the people of england to rome. besides these, philip sent the very pick of his army, thirty-one thousand men and four thousand officers, over-land to dunkerque to assist them in england as soon as he arrived. here was the invincible armada, and it was thought that such an armada could not be withstood by that little puny england, for england was then but a small state, and had no colonies. the whole population of england then was not much larger than the population of london at the present time. now, as for the royal navy, it consisted of twenty-eight ships; and how were they to cope with the 176 ships which composed the spanish armada? why, it was impossible, unless the hand of god should come down to protect the protestantism of england. well, on the 30th of july, the armada appeared off plymouth, and drake and frobisher, and seymour and hawkins, and lord howard, high admiral of england--who was not a catholic, whatever might be said to the contrary, but a protestant--determined to oppose the armada. it was on sunday, the 7th of august, that the armada anchored in the roadstead of dunkerque, and there waited for parma's fleet. in the night, a light southerly wind sprung up, and eight ships were selected from the crowd of volunteer vessels that followed the fleet; their masts were smeared with pitch, and their hulls filled with powder and all kinds of explosive and combustible materials. these ships were set fire to, and sent down on to the armada. what the spaniards ought to have done, and what could have been very easily done, would have been to cut their cables and allowed the fire-ships to pass them; but the spaniards seemed to have lost their presence of mind. however, at length they cut their cables and ran into the north sea; but the english followed them, and there was a tremendous battle. the spanish ships were so full of soldiers and sailors that every english shot told ten-fold. five thousand of the spanish were killed and not one hundred english wounded. a hasty council of officers was held on the duke medina's ship as to whether they should return to their anchorage off dunkerque, or go back to spain by way of the orkneys, and they determined, like craven cowards, to run round by the north of scotland and ireland, and so on to the coast of spain, because they dared not face the english in the straits of dover. admiral seymour watched them. they could not all pursue the armada. a small squadron only went, and when they came to the firth of forth, seymour ran short of ammunition. now what he wanted to show them was, that it was not seymour that was protecting england, but the almighty himself. seymour had no sooner put into harbour than a hurricane rose up, and subsequently the shores of ireland were strewn with the bodies of the dead, and the wreckage of the galleons. only a few reached spain to give mournful tidings of the disaster, and then it was found that there was not a family in spain that was not in mourning for the loss of relatives. as the egyptians were overthrown in the red sea, so the spaniards were overthrown in the north sea; and it was god that did all. queen elizabeth and the english people knew that well, for queen elizabeth struck a medal in commemoration of the event, and the motto on the medal was, "god blew upon them with his winds, and scattered them." she took no credit to herself, no credit to her navy, no credit to the english people; for it was god who did it all. from that day the power of spain had dwindled and waned, until spain had sunk to a fifth-rate power, and nobody thought of spain in the councils of europe. but what was the case with little england, then with hardly any colonies? god said, "thou hast been faithful in little things; be thou ruler over ten great cities"; and now we had ten great colonies. and now they would pass away from that subject, and see what happened at the end of the next hundred years--in 1688. he must first remind them what was the state of things in 1687. there was then a roman catholic king upon the throne of england. he was not only a roman catholic, but was an avowed and sworn jesuit--james ii. there was then, also, a conspiracy all over england--favoured by some of the bishops and many of the clergy--to introduce the ritual of rome into the english church. there was then, as there is now, attempts to open up diplomatic relations between the throne and the vatican. there was then an attempt to ruin the landlords of ireland, so as to get rid of protestantism, and separate ireland from england. to whom did england look at that time for help? there was then no great protestant germany; but there was a small state, smaller than england--he meant holland--but it was not similarly yoked. it was here that the hand of god first began to show itself in the year 1685. on account of the action of louis xiv., who was the mainstay of roman catholicism in europe, all the best soldiers, generals, and artisans in paris left france and went to holland. in england james ii. gradually deposed protestants and substituted roman catholics in all positions of importance and influence. the people, becoming alarmed, sought the aid of william, prince of orange, who had married a member of the english royal family; and on the 1st of november, 1688, william sailed on his mission to this country. a strong wind was blowing, which took him gaily on his journey; and that wind not only sent him gaily on his mission, but prevented lord dartmouth, who was on the thames, from getting out. god was determined to show that success had not been arrived at by man; and on november 6th, in a fog, william and his friends arrived at a distance beyond torbay. when the fog lifted, and the sunshine beamed forth, william gaily sailed into torbay. then there were two days of calm weather, during which william landed his army and his stores, and james's forces could not attack, owing to the stillness of the wind. still james might have struck a blow, as his troops had converged at salisbury; but god struck fear into his heart. he dressed himself as a fisherman, got into a fishing-boat, and went to france. but our forefathers did not say to william, "please take the crown and govern." they said, "we have certain rights; will you promise always to observe those rights? if so, you may sit upon the throne." and william promised that he would do so, and, as they knew, they had now the act of rights. one of the clauses of that act was that, if the sovereign became a roman catholic, the throne should be instantly vacated. it was settled that no communion should be held with rome; that was to say, that no diplomacy should exist between england and rome. that act was passed, and remained the same to this day. he would read them what lord macaulay said of the two events to which he referred:-"the weather had indeed served the protestant cause so well that some men (_e.g._, bishop burnet), of more piety than judgment, fully believed the ordinary laws of nature to have been suspended for the preservation of the liberty or religion of england. exactly a hundred years before, they said, the armada, invincible by man, had been scattered by the wrath of god. civil freedom and divine truth were again in jeopardy; and again the obedient elements had fought for the good cause. the wind had blown strong from the east while the prince wished to sail down the channel, had turned to the south when he wished to enter torbay, had sunk to a calm during the disembarkation, and, as soon as the disembarkation was completed, had risen to a storm, and had met the pursuers in the face. nor did men omit to remark that, by an extraordinary coincidence, the prince had reached our shores on a day on which the church of england commemorated, by prayers and thanksgiving, the wonderful escape of the royal house, and of the three estates, from the blackest plot ever designed by papists." now they had seen god's mercy in 1588 and in 1688, and now let them turn to 1788. it was not so striking, he would allow, as the other events, but it was not less real. and why was it not so striking? in former days men knew very well what the government did, as there was no secrecy about it. in these days nobody knew what were the views and the intentions of the government. it was all done underhanded, secretly, and no one knew anything about it. they gathered a little from the newspapers and tried to put it together as well as they could; consequently, that system having been in vogue in 1788, they did not know exactly what took place. in the year 1787, charles edward catesby was a pretender to the throne, and the pope was again anxious to bring england under him, and he made secret allies of all the roman catholics to put this charles on the throne of england. a body was to land in scotland, and £20,000 was to be given to the highlanders to rise in rebellion. the french had an army ready, and they were to land on the south coast of england and march to london, so as to prevent the troops going forth to put down edward. in that same year the prince regent did that thing which, according to the act of william, made him vacate the throne for ever. he married a roman catholic in 1787. notwithstanding the fact that he tried to keep it a secret at first, it afterwards leaked out through the indiscretion of a member of the house of commons. pitt said at first that the prince regent had denied it stoutly; but there were those present in the roman catholic church at the time he was married; and when it was proved, pitt then said the act of parliament prevented any one of the royal family being married without the consent of parliament, and argued that the prince was not married. he married a german princess, and put her away, and came to the throne as george iv. then came 1788, when god struck that charles with death; and then an alliance was made between protestant england and russia to support each other against any roman catholic emperor. this was not so striking a display of god's mercy as was shown in the case of the armada; but in them all they saw the hand of god. they saw great mercy in 1588, in 1688, and in 1788, for the protection of protestantism; and what cared they whether in 1888 ministers should try to bring them under the domination of rome? they knew that god was a tower of strength, and that they could rely on him. let them think and meditate on his mercies, and then they would not fail. the fish that swallowed jonah. "_now the lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up jonah. and jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights._"--jonah i. 17. upon the question as to what was the fish that swallowed jonah, dr. raleigh remarks ("the story of jonah," p. 148):-"the bible does not say that a whale was the prophet's jailer. the infidel has said that, and then has enjoyed the easy triumph of proving the natural impossibility of it. jonah says 'a great fish' swallowed him. our lord uses a phrase exactly similar. he uses a generic term, which includes the whale, but is never applied to the whale particularly. the dolphin, the seal, the whale, the shark, are all included in the term that is used, and there is strong probability in the supposition that the white shark is the creature designated as the 'great fish.' sharks abounded in the mediterranean at that time. they have been found there ever since, and are found there still. in length some of them have attained to thirty feet and upwards, of capacity in other ways sufficient to incarcerate samson of zorah, or goliath of gath, as well as the probably attenuated prophet of gath-hepher. "it is related that a horse was found in the stomach of a shark, and there are many instances of men being swallowed alive--not fabulous and doubtful stories, but instances well authenticated. one, of a soldier in full armour. one, of a sailor who fell overboard, and, was swallowed in the very sight of his comrades. the captain seized a gun, shot the fish in a sensitive part, which then cast out the sailor into the sea, who was taken up, amazed and terrified, but little hurt. "every one knows that the shark is a most voracious creature. its teeth are only incisive. it has no power of holding. it can snap and sever limbs, or trunk, or head, sheer and certainly as though its jaws were a guillotine. but in that case it secures only what is within the jaws. the rest is apt to be lost. its habit, therefore, is to swallow the prey alive, that it may lose nothing. thus god made the voracity of the fish the means of protection and safety to his servant." heart-work must be god's work. only the great heart-maker can be the great heart-breaker. if i love him, my heart will be filled with his spirit, and obedient to his commands.--_baxter._ the great design, both in judgments and mercies, is to convince us that _there is none like the lord our god_; none so wise, so mighty, so good; no enemy so formidable, no friend so desirable, so valuable.--_matthew henry._ talking with a man seven thousand miles off! the longest wire in the world extends from 18, old broad street, london, e.c., to 29, cable street, calcutta, over seven thousand miles. a telegraphic expert, who visited the london end of the wire, says:-we have often heard of the wonderful line between this country and teheran, the capital of persia, a distance of three thousand eight hundred miles, but we scarcely realized the fact that good signals were obtainable through so great a length of wire until recently, when we availed ourselves of an invitation from mr. w. andrews, the managing director of the indo-european telegraph company, to make a visit of inspection. it was between seven and eight o'clock when we reached the office. in the basement of an unpretentious building in old broad street we were shown the morse printer in connection with the main line from london to teheran. the courteous clerk in charge of the wire, mr. blagrove, informed us that we were through to emden, and with the same ease with which one "wires" from the city to the west end, we asked a few questions of the telegraphist in the german town. when we had finished with emden, we spoke with the same facility to the gentleman on duty at odessa. this did not satisfy us, and in a few seconds we were through to the persian capital, teheran. there were no messages about, the time was favourable, and the _employés_ of the various countries seemed anxious to give us an opportunity of testing the capacity of this wonderful wire. t.h.n. (teheran) said, "call kurrachee," and in less time than it takes to write these words we gained the attention of the indian town. the signals were good, and our speed must have equalled fifteen words a minute. the operator at kurrachee, when he learnt that london was speaking to him, thought it would be a good opportunity to put us through to agra, and to our astonishment the signals did not fail, and we chatted pleasantly for a few minutes with mr. malcolm khan, the clerk on duty. to make this trial of telegraphy complete, agra switched us on to another line, and we were soon talking to a native telegraphist at the indian government cable station, calcutta. at first the gentleman at the other end of the wire could not believe that he was really in direct communication with the english capital, and he exclaimed, in morse language, "are you really london?" truly this was a great achievement. metallic communication, without a break, from 18, old broad street, london, to the telegraph office in calcutta! seven thousand miles of wire! the signals were excellent, and the speed attained was no fewer than twelve, perhaps fourteen, words per minute. answer to bible enigma. (_page 235._) "_jesus wept._"--john xi. 35. j otham judges ix. 5. e glon judges iii. 14. s apphira acts v. 1, 2. u zzah 2 samuel vi. 7. s amuel 1 samuel i. 14. w ater exodus xvii. 3. e noch hebrews xi. 5. p otiphar genesis xxxix. 1. t homas acts i. 13. ruth crowhurst (aged 9 years). _hastings._ memoirs of ellen and henry hoad. "around the throne of god in heaven thousands of children stand; children whose sins are all forgiven- a holy, happy band." of the truth of these lines there can be no doubt in the minds of god's people, and a very blessed truth it is. there is a heaven of joy and love, and in this heaven there is the throne of god, and many dear children are standing around this throne, singing praises unto god and the lamb. their sins forgiven, their sorrows gone, their sufferings ended, death past, joy, and peace, and glory eternal now begun, who is there that could not desire to be with them, and to be as they are? among this happy band we hope the two young ones--brother and sister--ellen and henry, whose names are at the top of this page, are now standing; and to give some reason of this hope is now our object in writing these few lines. many, alas! have hopes of salvation and heaven for which their life and testimony can afford no solid ground for them to rest upon, and whose hope will one day make them ashamed, and, like the flickering lamps of the foolish virgins, will go out when the bridegroom comes. ellen and henry were the children of praying parents, and, both of them being members of the church at bodle street, their children attended the sabbath school connected with that cause. the mother died in 1882, of consumption, and some of the children soon manifested symptoms of the same disease. an elder sister kept house, and as the younger ones grew up, they had to go out to earn their bread. ellen was sent to service soon after she was twelve years old, and not living far from the school, she was permitted still to attend; and certainly she was a girl that needed no constraint in this matter, for if her duties kept her on sundays until too late for the lessons, she would even then take her seat with the class while she listened to the sermon. how often children manifest a dislike to the house of god, and how soon there is an enmity appearing against good things! to many, attendance both at school and the house of god is a burden, and when they grow older they cast off all restraint and run wildly into sin. to such, parental control is hateful; the wise counsels of father and mother are scorned; the family altar, if possible, avoided; and their inward idea is that, when they leave home, they shall then go on as they like, and have their fill of pleasure. if any such children are reading these lines, let them pause and tremble, for there is an eye watching their every thought, and an almighty arm that can reach them; and, sooner or later, there will be a bringing into judgment, and who can say how soon? but certainly, with ellen, it was her delight to go to the house of god. the writer has met her many times on sunday mornings on her way, her face bright and happy, a stronger bond than duty binding her close to god's people. in the autumn of 1887, the fatal languor that often accompanies consumption appeared in ellen, and, though she bore up bravely for a little time, she had at length to leave her place and go home. going home to die seems hard for young ones like ellen to think of, yet there is no staying the hand that strikes. the summons must be obeyed. in such a case the great question arises, "are we ready, or are we not?" ellen's earthly home had no mother to welcome the child, or to soothe her in her dying hours; and no one can truly fill the mother's place at such a time. but it was not to be long. soon she was beyond the reach of mortal aid, and want, pain, and care had passed away for ever. the father gives the following particulars of what he witnessed in ellen, and it is well indeed when parents can give such testimonies of their children:-"she was a very dutiful girl, and very quiet--so much so, that i seldom had to rebuke her; always very attentive at school, and, when out at service, she would attend the house of god if possible. all this was very good; but i wanted something further, and when she first came home ill, i wanted it made manifest that the lord had begun a work of grace in her soul, and that she had been truly 'born again.' "one morning, as i went home from chapel, ellen said to me, 'father, mr. d---has been to see me.' i then asked her, 'did he talk to you? and did you like what he said?' she answered, 'yes, very much, and i should like for him to come again.' then, bursting into tears, she said, 'i should so like to be able to answer him better, but i cannot. i should so much like to go to chapel again.' and when her sister asked her if she thought she should get better, she said she did not know, but should so like to go to school once more. "the night before she died, i saw a great change in her, and i asked her if she ever prayed to the lord for mercy. 'yes,' she said, 'sometimes i wake up in the night and pray to him. i should not mind death if i knew my sins were pardoned. there is nothing to stop here for if i knew this.'" the writer has seen her weep much, when speaking to her of the certainty of death and the judgment, the sufferings of jesus, and the abundance of pardon through his blood. can there be a more touching sight than to see a child fourteen years old weeping and praying in sincerity for mercy, as a guilty sinner before god? ellen died so suddenly that nothing further was gathered from her lips, but we believe her end was peace. she quietly passed away on february 10th, 1888, aged fourteen years. in connection with her and her prayers and tears, these lines seem very sweet to me- "did ever mourner plead with thee, and thou reject that mourner's plea? does not thy word of truth remain, that none shall seek thy face in vain?" henry was two years older than his sister ellen, and, like her, had to commence work early, and bear the yoke in his youth. he had been a regular attendant at the sabbath school, and was truly a promising boy. quiet and serious he went on his way, and read his bible, which, through faith in christ jesus, is able to make wise unto salvation. he was, in the leadings of providence, called to labour at a place where he had some work to do on sunday mornings, and it was noticed that he seemed put out in his mind if he was ever prevented from attending school. in the spring of 1888 the same disease that cut down his mother and sister appeared in henry, and he had to leave his place and go home. the teachers of the school and the friends around could see his days on earth must now be very few, and that he too, like ellen, had come home to die. yet he went to school a few times after this, and in may went to hailsham to spend a few days with some friends. here we had an opportunity of observing him closely, but he was scarcely able to say a word about himself. he was failing fast at this time, and truly it was sorrowful to see how feebly he moved about. when visiting the field on whit monday, where the sunday school children were having their treat, what a contrast we beheld between the bright, healthy, happy children, and the poor, pale, languid, dying boy looking on! soon after this he went back home, and went out but little afterwards. he gradually wasted in body and strength, and could no longer attend the school, though living but a few yards from it. and now came the time of testing the matter, whether there was anything of the work of the holy spirit in him, or whether it consisted in merely coming and going to and from the house of god. let our readers reflect, this time of testing is coming to every one of us, and we shall soon be brought where our young friend was--to lie down and die, and thus appear before god. we will now give some particulars of his last words and exercises, and thus let our readers think for themselves what ground we have for our hope that this dear young lad is now in heaven. his father writes thus of his concern--"i had watched him for some time, thinking i could see some signs of concern, and that he was different from what he had been. i was almost sure he had been at times trying to pray, but he would not let me see him if he could help it. according as his illness came on he took more to his bible and hymn-book, and they were his daily and hourly companions. the friends in the school were much concerned about him, and talked to him about his soul, but could not get anything from him. yet he seemed to like to hear them, so i asked him if he did not enjoy what they said. he said 'yes,' but did not wish to say anything wrong, though he hoped that some of the things spoken were the workings of his mind. i was very much concerned about him myself, and my desire was, that the lord would make it manifest that he had a favour toward him. once, when about my work, i could not help asking the lord for this, when these words came with some sweetness, 'at evening time it shall be light'; then i had a hope that the lord would appear for him. soon after this he had these words come with some power, 'when thou passest through the waters i will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee'; and then he expressed the hope that the lord would be with him in the river of death. "when he was confined to his bed he seemed very restless, and being in great exercise of mind, he folded his hands, and we could see his lips move, but could not hear the words. "once, when i came home late from my work, and went into his bed-room, he called me to him and said, 'i have had a blessed afternoon, for the lord has been with me, and i can leave you all now, and everything of earth; and i believe that i shall go to heaven. i have prayed for you all.' i told him i was very glad--more so than if any one had given me gold, and asked him how it came to pass--whether it was by any word coming with power or otherwise? he said, 'no, but it was a sweet, humbling influence which so softened my heart, and drew my affections to the lord jesus. it enables me to bear my sufferings better, and i lie more comfortable.' "a great change was seen in him after this. his mind seemed much brighter, and he laid more calm and quiet. i told him that he perhaps might feel after this comfort some distress of mind again, and he said, 'i have been in distress of mind, father, and the lord has blessed me.' this was about a week before he died. we thought he would have been taken away sooner, and he felt so himself, for soon after his deliverance he called us all around him, and shook hands with us all, and gave each one something to keep in remembrance of him. i asked him then if he felt the lord was with him. he said, 'yes, i fancy i can see him coming.' but he recovered from this, and i then said to him, 'the lord did not come as soon as you expected?' and he answered, 'no; but i must wait the lord's time.' "he asked once that i would pray to the lord to come and take him, and then asked his sisters to sing the hymn commencing, 'how sweet the name of jesus sounds.' he then said, 'oh, now i could sing!' i asked him if he could sing that hymn. he said, 'yes, if i had breath.' mr. reed asked him if he could say that jesus had done all things well. he answered, 'yes, i have said so, and i can say it again.' he was then asked what his hopes for eternity were. he soon replied, 'nothing but the blood and righteousness of the lord jesus christ.' "speaking to one of his sisters, he said, 'i hope that you pray to the lord to be your saviour, and that you read your bible. once i did not like reading it, and when father made me come in to read, it almost made me cry, but now it is the best treasure i have on earth.' "i asked him if he had anything to tell mr. daw, 'yes,' he replied, 'the first sunday after uncle was buried, june 24th, 1888, when he was preaching from this, "i know that my redeemer liveth," i felt blessed then, and the tears ran down my face, but the feeling was soon gone.' "the hymn commencing- "awake, ye saints, and sweetly sing the ascended saviour's love, was very much blessed to him, and he asked for it to be sung when he was once suffering much for want of breath; then he said, 'i feel as though i could jump into the arms of jesus.' "about half-an-hour before he died he cried out, 'oh, what a mighty saviour! i shall soon be before the throne, and sing the praises of the lamb. don't sorrow.' i said, 'not for you,' and he replied, 'no.' "one remarking how ill he seemed, he said, 'i hope i shall soon be better.' 'when you get to heaven,' i whispered, and he said, 'yes.' "at another time a remark was made about his pillow being hard. he said, 'it will be soft in heaven.' "the last audible words from his lips were, 'rest, father!' and so he died on the 22nd day of august, 1888, aged sixteen years." here the father's narrative ends, and truly we can hope that he went right to heaven, and that for him to die was gain. brother and sister now lie side by side in the pleasant burial-ground at bodle street, awaiting the resurrection morning. can we not, to close these few lines, also say the last verse of the hymn of which we have given the first- "on earth they sought the saviour's grace, on earth they loved his name, so now they see his blessed face, and stand before the lamb"? j. d. denied, yet answered. when augustine, in his home at carthage, resolved to visit rome, his mother wished either to prevent him from going, or to go with him. he would listen to neither proposal, and resorted to a trick to carry out his plan. one evening he went to the sea-shore, and his mother followed. there were two chapels dedicated to the memory of the martyr cyprian, and he pressed her to spend one evening in the church of the martyr, while he would accompany a friend on board a ship, there to say farewell. while she was there in tears, praying and wrestling with god to prevent the voyage, augustine sailed for italy, and his deceived mother next morning found herself alone. in quiet resignation she returned to the city, and continued to pray for the salvation of her son. though meaning well, yet she erred in her prayers, for the journey of augustine was the means of his salvation. the denial of the prayer was, in fact, the answering of it. instead of the husk, god granted rather the substance of her petition in the conversion of her son. "therefore," said he, "o god, thou hadst regard to the aim and essence of her desires, and didst not do what she then prayed for, that thou mightest do for me what she continually implored." honouring the lord's day. the following interesting incident was related to the writer by a gentleman, who had the narrative from the merchant himself to whom it occurred. when a youth, the latter obtained a situation in a provision store in one of the great mercantile cities of the united states. on the first saturday evening, he was told by his employer that he would be expected to be at his business post the next day, the same as usual. on the lad respectfully replying that he could not do so, as he had always been taught by his friends to honour the lord's day, he was bluntly told that, if he would not do what he was asked, he might come on monday morning and get his wages, as there would be no further occasion for his services. we may imagine how such a notice was calculated to discourage the youth; nevertheless he kept to his resolution, and, after a sabbath spent in a right manner, proceeded on the monday to get his discharge. it was his duty to open the store, and as he was on his way to it, he noticed a man, as the morning was dark, trying to make out the inscriptions over the warehouse doors. asking him what he wanted, the man replied that he was a ship-captain, and was looking for a provision store in order to get supplies for his vessel, which was coming down the river with the tide. the youth willingly, forgetting his employer's unkind threat of dismissal, at once told the stranger that if he would go with him to his master's premises, he would be sure to find there the articles he was in search of. on getting to the stores, the captain selected a large supply of provisions, for which he paid well. in short, it was an excellent commercial transaction. when he came to pay the money, the chief clerk, who had now made his appearance, made out the account, and saw that the notes given in payment were those of good banks--a point of no small importance in those days of unsound american currency. by this time, too, the stranger's ship had arrived at the wharf attached to the store, and the goods were placed on board of it, when it proceeded on its voyage. at a later hour the youth's employer came to business, and the clerk told him that the new lad had been doing an excellent stroke of business before others were astir that morning. "a very good price, too, he has got for the goods," said the master, as he looked at the invoice. "but," he continued, "depend upon it, he has been taken in, and got bad notes." "no," replied the clerk; "that's all right. i attended to that myself." presently the youth came up to his employer's desk. "well," said he, good-humouredly, "what do you want?" "oh, sir, you told me i was to come to you to-day, and get my wages and my dismissal." "nonsense!" rejoined the master; "go to your work, and let me hear no more of that." so to work he went, and kept his situation, and a good conscience. when our informant heard the anecdote from him, he had become a successful trader, god having blessed his youthful conscientiousness. this incident reminds us of another of somewhat the same character, which was told us by a gentleman, now dead, who at the time held a very important position on the staff of one of our great religious societies. "when i was a youth," so his narrative ran, "i was sent by my friends to one of the principal towns in an island in the west indies, to be apprenticed as an articled clerk to a firm of solicitors there. my connections at home, although not evangelical christians, respected religion, and when i left, they counselled me to be always particular in observing the lord's day and reverencing it. [illustration: "well, what do you want?" (_see page 252._)] "on getting to my new situation, the managing clerk, at the close of the first week, told me that i should be expected to put in my appearance at the office on sunday. i told him that i had been always taught not to do any work on that day, and that i meant to go to church. to church i accordingly went. on the monday, when i returned to the office, one of the partners, a lively little man, looked hard at me, but said nothing. the next sunday and the next i pursued the same course, without any objection being made to it. there were other articled clerks in the office, and they, seeing what i did, gradually did the same, without any opposition from the principals. in course of time, some of the partners ceased to come, until at last the little man i have named was the only one who came, and that for an hour or two. even this in time ceased, and the office was shut up on the sunday. then, more curious still, the other solicitors in the town followed the example that our office had set, till, ere long, no business at all was done on the lord's day by any solicitor in the place." a third anecdote connected with the lord's day may here also appropriately be given. the incident occurred to the grandfather of the gentleman who narrated it to us. the late lord l---was well known as a brave warrior during the peninsular war. his lordship, on his return to scotland, was anxious to have some timber on his estate cut down, that he might discharge certain pressing debts. without giving any notice of his intention, he called one sunday morning upon my friend's grandfather, just as he was preparing to go with his family to church, and asked him to walk with him over the estate, that they might together see what timber was fit for cutting. the grandfather respectfully replied that that day he had another master whom he must serve, but that he would be ready at any hour on a working day to be promptly at his lordship's service. his lordship merely said, "very well," and named another day, when the agent attended him, and did the work that was wanted of him, apparently to his lordship's satisfaction. the matter seemed to have blown over, when shortly afterwards the agent, who had been many years in his lordship's service, received a notice that he was wanted to meet lord l---at the office of his man of business on a particular day, and in a neighbouring town. the request was an unusual one, and much surmising took place among his friends as to what could be the meaning of it. "depend upon it," said some, who pretended to see farther than others, "his lordship, though he said nothing at the time, has taken offence at your refusal to work for him on sunday, and, now that the business is finished, intends to give you notice of dismissal." the day came, and the agent kept the appointment, when, to his joyful surprise, instead of giving a notice of dismissal, his lordship told him, with expressions of esteem, that he desired to show his sense of the conscientious manner in which he had so long discharged his duties, and that he had asked him to attend in order that he might settle a pension upon him. the reader may imagine his happiness when he found all his fears at an end, and had this proof of the approbation of his conduct by a divine and an earthly master. the worthy man lived long to enjoy lord l----'s bounty, having died at the age of 102. on the anniversary of his hundredth birthday, some of his neighbours, by whom he was much respected, entertained him at a public dinner, and gave him a bible, accompanied with the hope that he might have to the end of his pilgrimage the guidance of him who had guided him "a hundred years."--h. m., in _friendly greetings_. little johnnie. shall i vex your patience, johnnie, if i write again? would you rather i should leave you brooding o'er your pain? does your little heart grow tired of the outside noise? will you never tell your sorrows? must you hide your joys? then i'll go to jesus, johnnie- go to him, and say- "there's a weary child, lord jesus, needs thy love to-day. "listen to his father's praying; see his mother's tears; speak, oh, speak to little johnnie! speak, and hush our fears. "he was born a wretched sinner; does he know it, lord? thou hast promises for sinners, in thy precious word. "speak, oh, speak to little johnnie, that our aching hearts may be comforted about him when his soul departs. "we have told him of thy mercy, told him of thy wrath; told him of the untold terrors of the second death. "but the voice that wakes an echo in the silent one, and the hand that opens heaven, jesus, are thine own. "lord, we cannot help repeating, speak to him to-day; hope, nor prayer, nor mercy cometh to the mouldering clay. "now the heart and flesh are failing, now the need is true, hell beneath, and heaven above him, stoop, lord, lift him through." i have said all this to jesus, johnnie dear, for you; tell your mother if he answers; she is praying too. oh, if you but hear him whisper, "guilty sinner, come!" break away to jesus, johnnie; he will take you home. m. a. chaplin. _galleywood, chelmsford._ bible enigma. a king of israel. a king of moab. absalom's general. the son of ham. a river. a son of jacob. a king of israel. a priest. abram's brother. a precious stone. a king of bashan. something sent to various kings by god. a servant of ahab. an animal mentioned in the bible. winnie langman (aged 10 years). _battersea._ bible subjects for each sunday in november. nov. 4. commit to memory ps. cxxvii. i. nov. 11. commit to memory ps. cxxvii. 2. nov. 18. commit to memory ps. cxxv. 2. nov. 25. commit to memory ps. cxxv. 3. brimstone or sulphur. "_the lord rained upon sodom and upon gomorrah brimstone and fire._"--genesis xix. 24. sulphur is one of the most inflammable substances known, and will melt in fire but not in water. the meaning of the word "sulphur" is, the burning or fiery stone. this substance is obtained in most parts of the world, but is very abundant in volcanic regions. it doubtless helps to feed those terrific fires of the earth which occasionally burst forth in all their fury, pouring liquid lava upon the valleys beneath, and overwhelming cities in destruction. the smoke which issues from the craters of volcanoes is impregnated with sulphur; indeed, this substance is often found encrusted round the mouths of these burning mountains. italy and sicily produce the best sulphur in a native state, and in very large quantity. this is imported into england, is refined, and in its respective processes produces the roll brimstone, rock brimstone, and flowers of sulphur, all so well known in commerce. sulphur also exists in some of our mineral springs, as that of harrogate, in yorkshire. it is found in the combination of several metallic ores, such as pyrites or sulphuret of iron, and sulphurets of zinc, copper, and lead. in some of its forms it exists in some plants. this may be proved by leaving a silver spoon in mustard; the colour of the spoon will soon be changed to a blackish tinge. it is the presence of this principle in assafoetida which causes it to smell so disagreeably. silver put into the same pocket with sulphur soon loses its brightness. sulphur is applied to a variety of purposes. it is largely used in the manufacture of sulphuric acid, and forms about a tenth component part in the manufacture of english gunpowder. as a medicine it is very useful. there appears to be an allusion to its appropriation for gunpowder in revelation ix. 17, 18. many eminent expositors of the revelation agree in supposing that the flashes of fire, attended by smoke and brimstone, "whereby men were killed," which seemed to proceed from the mouths of the horses, were really the flashes of artillery. the heads of the horses alone would be seen through the sulphureous smoke, while in reality the flashes and smoke proceeded from the cannon. the whole appears imagery of a battle scene, and is thought to refer to the turks, who first turned to account the invention of gunpowder in carrying on their wars. "the lord rained upon sodom and gomorrah brimstone and fire" (or burning brimstone). as these cities were situated in the vale of siddim, which, as the sacred writer informs us, was full of bitumen pits, many learned men are of opinion that it does not detract from the supernatural character of this awful visitation to suppose that the wonder-working god saw fit to employ natural agencies in effecting the purposes of his will; and it is thought that, as sulphur exists in the neighbouring hills, it might have been ignited by lightning, and poured down like rain upon the vale below. the quantity of pitch already existing in the vale would be set on fire, and thus the cities would be destroyed, and the character of the valleys thereby changed. be this as it may, the statement of the sacred writer is clear, and we may safely interpret it as implying a shower of inflamed sulphur or nitre. at the same time, it is evident that the whole plain underwent a simultaneous convulsion, which seems referable to the consequences of bituminous explosion. in accordance with this view, we find the materials, as it were, of this awful visitation near at hand, for, at the present day, sulphur is found on the shores of the dead sea, which occupies the site of the cities of the plain; and the arabs obtain enough from the cliffs to make their own gunpowder. irby and mangles collected on the southern coasts lumps of fine sulphur, from the size of a nutmeg up to that of a small hen's egg, which it was evident from their situation had been brought down from the neighbouring hills by the rain. h. h. a birthday wish. life is before you, friend of mine; what it may bring we cannot divine; the path outspread is all untrod; unknown are its windings to all but god. the sun will shine with its gladsome ray, and sometimes clouds overshadow the day; your heart may be lifted with joy untold; but remember the same is not yours to hold. at your bidding it comes not, nor does it stay; but when one speaks it flies away; and why is this? that one is love, and seeks to lead your heart above. were earthly happiness all your own, you never would wish a heavenly throne; so joys are given, they come, and end, as seemeth best to our lord and friend. then let us entrust them to his care, and of thinking them ours to keep, beware; let us seek in the gift the giver to see, and trust to his love and wise decree. should sorrow and sadness our path attend, and dark seem the way to our journey's end, let us look above to the hand that guides, and trust his love whatever betides. no sorrow is sent with purposeless aim, but each has its destined end to gain; he loves us so dearly, and shed his blood to lead us up to the throne of god. and think you that he would afflict his child with needless pains in this desert wild? no; though all that's sent we can't understand, let us never distrust the guiding hand. his wisdom is perfect, his love divine, and changeth not with the flight of time; to the trustful heart that resteth in him he has promised joys that never shall dim. a quiet peace surrounds its path, surpassing all that the worldling hath; may this be yours in that winding way; may it lead you up to the "perfect day." lewarn clayton. insecurity of palestine. "_they that sow in tears shall reap in joy._"--psalm cxxvi. 5. the farmer in palestine had frequently to sow with an armed man attending him, to prevent his being robbed of his seed. a similar state of danger appears still to prevail. tristram, in his "land of israel," says:-"in descending the hill from bethany we saw an illustration of the wretched insecurity of the country, in a drove of donkeys laden with firewood for jerusalem. each ass was attended by a man armed to the teeth with pistols, sword, and a long gun; and in one little valley--the only one beyond bethany where there was any cultivation--each ploughman was holding his firelock in one hand while he guided the plough with the other." a heroic scotch student. "a ship ashore! a ship ashore!" was the cry which rang through the streets of st. andrew's, scotland, one fearful winter's day some years ago. this thrilling cry roused every inhabitant. citizens, university students, and sailors, rushed with pale faces and rapid steps along the street towards a bay to the eastward of the town. standing on the shore, the crowd was terror-stricken and paralyzed through beholding a vessel stranded on a sand-bank but a few rods from the beach. she was shrouded in surfy mist; the waves dashed furiously against her, and broke over her decks with irresistible fury. yet, through the thick air and the driving sleet, the people on the shore could now and then catch glimpses of the doomed crew clinging, with the clutch of despair, to the rigging of the wreck. there were many bold, brave men in that sympathizing crowd of spectators, but none who dared to venture through the mighty surges to save those ill-fated sailors. it seemed, indeed, to the stoutest heart, too mighty a task for mortal man to attempt. all could sympathize with the wretched ones; none but god, they thought, could save them. but there was one heroic soul in that eager, wistful crowd who thought that man, with god's help, might snatch those perishing men from the door of doom. he was a young man--a university student--strong in body, but still stronger in spirit. "bring me a rope," he cried; "i will try to save them." a strong rope was brought, and fastened about his waist. followed by the prayers of many and the good wishes of all, this chivalric youth struggled, with desperate courage, through the terrific surf into the deep water beyond. then, with the strength of a young giant, guided by the skill of the experienced swimmer, he slowly worked his way towards the vessel's side. he had nearly reached it when his friends, alarmed by the length of time and slowness of his progress, began pulling him back. then his courage rose to the sublimest height of self-sacrifice. he forgot himself. he would save the men clinging in desperation to yon vessel's shrouds, or perish in the attempt. grasping the knife that he carried between his teeth, he cut the rope by which his kind-hearted friends were drawing him to shore and safety. he buffeted the rough waves successfully. he reached the breaker-swept deck of the stranded sloop. after a word of cheer to the crew, he took a fresh rope, plunged anew into the surging waters, and swam back to the beach. but four days of starvation, unrest, and exposure had robbed those poor creatures on board the wreck of both courage and strength. not one of them dared attempt to escape by means of the rope. what! then must they perish? nay, not yet. the brave student will risk his life again in their behalf. many speak harshly of their lack of pluck. he pities their weakness; he rushes into the surf once more, struggles through the crested waves, boards the sloop, and brings off a man to the shore. six times he makes the perilous trip, and saves a human life each time. the seventh time his charge is a boy, so weak and helpless that he loses his hold upon him twice, and twice he dives for him into the seething depths and brings him up. finally, he reaches the beach with a limp, corpselike lad--the last of the rescued crew. the crowd, which had hitherto watched the gallant young hero's movements with breathless stillness, now break forth into a loud, triumphal cheer, which neither the roar of the wind nor the thunder of the waves can drown--they recognize the presence of a genuine hero. the name of this noble young scion of true chivalry was john honey, one of the college friends of the celebrated dr. chalmers. his efforts on that memorable day cost him his life--not directly, however, for he lived a few years, but the seeds of a mortal malady were sown by his humane exertions on that grandest day of his life.--_great thoughts._ duties of brothers and sisters. it is the duty of brothers and sisters to take a delight in each others' society, and readily to share their comforts with each other. the kindness of the heart beams in a sister's smile, and speaks in a brother's praise. the heart must be sadly corrupted, if the remembrance of the scenes that passed under a father's roof ceases to interest. it is the duty of brothers and sisters to admonish one another for their faults. there are failings in the temper and defects in the manners which are concealed with care from the eyes of the world, but which are apparent amidst the freedom of domestic life. if follies are not checked at home, or by strangers, they will grow into habits. the indolence from which the young were never roused has kept them all their after days in poverty, and the pride which was never repressed has rendered them odious. never let affection make you blind to the deformity of sin. it is the duty of brothers and sisters to sympathize tenderly with each other. the heart is so framed that it requires the aid and comfort of sympathy. how soothing to a sufferer's heart are the attentions of a sister, and the word spoken by a brother in season! let sisters consider how much the persuasive language of mildness and affection is adapted to transform the roughest and most impetuous temper into meekness and wisdom, and that their remarks may direct a brother's attention to sentiments full of beauty and feeling, which he has overlooked. brothers and sisters should vie with each other in promoting the comfort of their parents. every one should cultivate respect for their parents' authority, compassion for their infirmities, attention to their wishes, and be solicitous to give them all necessary aid, and reverence, and love, undiminished as they witness the decline of their faculties. how delightful it is to hear parents say of their children, "i cannot tell which is the kindest to me." what peace such children are preparing for themselves when their parents shall have passed away!--_portia._ the child and the emperor. it is related of the late emperor of germany that, when passing through a pretty country village once, he stopped to visit the village school. taking up an orange, he said to the children-"to what kingdom does this belong?" "to the vegetable kingdom," answered a little girl. "and this?" continued the emperor, holding out a gold coin, which he had taken from his pocket. "to the mineral kingdom," was the answer. "and to what kingdom do i belong?" he said, expecting the little girl would answer with her former promptitude, "to the animal kingdom." but after a pause and many blushes, she replied-"to god's kingdom, sire." thereupon the emperor, greatly moved, and with a tear in his eye and much solemnity in his tone, replied-"god grant, my child, that i may be counted worthy of that kingdom." our bible class. the glory of christ. (john xvii) in the large, upper room of that house at jerusalem, where jesus had eaten the passover with his disciples, and instituted his own new feast, "the lord's supper," he had been speaking, and they hearing, most wonderful truths. "arise, let us go hence," he had said (john xiv. 31). yet he arose not, and they lingered still, held fast in solemn wonder while he spoke the parable of the vine, and warned and encouraged them concerning their future course when he had left them. and then, having assured them that he had overcome the world, and bidden them rejoice in him, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and prayed for himself, for them, and for all his people to the end of time. a wondrous prayer! he was just about to enter into his deepest sufferings; yet he says not a word of pain or sorrow. "the glory that should follow," "the joy that was set before him," fill his heart and tongue, and all his prayer breathes of that reward--that crown of all his labours--the everlasting life of all his beloved ones. he thought of his ancient glory, "the glory which i had with thee before the world was" (ver. 5); and that glory was connected with his dear people, as we read in proverbs viii. 23, where christ, speaking as wisdom, says, "i was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was"; and "then i was beside jehovah, as one brought up with him: i was daily _his_ delight, and _my_ delights were with the sons of men" (ver. 30, 31). "the sons of men," as yet unborn; but "his gracious eye surveyed them" as they should in future days appear, and he was then their "elder brother," "the first-born among many brethren," and in his image adam was formed as a man, "a little lower than the angels, crowned with glory and honour," and the lord of god's earthly creation (psa. viii.). and jesus looked on to the glorious time when all his people, though they have fallen, and become sinners, shall be purified and fully saved, and be "presented to god without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing." it _was_ his glory, before time, to think of this; it _shall_ be his glory, when time is ended, to see all his desires fulfilled, and all his wishes accomplished. next, jesus thought and spoke of "the glory his father had given him" (ver. 24)--given him in the world, in the sight of his people. in revelation xiii. 8, he is called "the lamb that hath been slain from the foundation of the world"--slain in pictures and shadows; "the firstling of the flock" that abel offered; the paschal lamb, and all the numberless sacrifices slain of old by god's command, pointed always to the lamb of god; and he was glorified when his people, in by-gone times, like abraham, "saw his day," his coming, and his work, and were glad in his salvation. and jesus prayed that all whom his father had given him might behold his glory. when? not only in heaven, but here. as we read in paul's wondrous description of this sight, "we all, with unveiled faces, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the lord" (2 cor. iii.), do not simply gaze upon it as on a lovely picture, but are transformed as we gaze--are changed, until we become like our lord, and bear his image, and reflect his glory, as the face of moses shone when he came down from god on mount sinai, and he did not know it until he found the israelites could not look at him unless he veiled his face, for true holiness makes us humble and lowly, and "the more his glories strike our eyes, the humbler we shall lie; thus while we sink, our joys shall rise immeasurably high." and if now we see him thus by faith, we shall see him as he is, and be like him for ever. "oh, that with yonder sacred throng we at his feet may fall; join in the everlasting song, and crown him lord of all." but the prayer of jesus began with the earnest request for another kind of glory--"father, the hour is come; glorify thy son, that thy son also may glorify thee." "the hour" for which i came into the world--"the hour" of deepest woe, yet most glorious victory. glorify thy son by strengthening and sustaining him, that he may glorify thee by accomplishing thy will, and destroying the works of the devil. was not the prayer answered? hear the dying saviour cry, with a loud voice, on calvary, "it is finished!" and we behold him gloriously conquering in the very moment of his death, and departing to receive the victor's crown, and the grateful worship of all the redeemed, as they sing, "worthy the lamb that was slain!" lastly, jesus says of all his glory, "i have given it to my people, my followers, my friends" (ver. 22). "my glory, my joy, i share with them." he is "anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows" (psa. xlv. 7); but to every "good and faithful servant" he will say, "enter thou into the joy of thy lord." is his joy, his glory, ours? do we delight in his salvation? do we desire to follow him, and, like him, do good to others? do we long to see god's kingdom come, and his will done on earth as it is done in heaven? if so, he has given us a share in his glory, and we shall meet with all his saints around his throne on high-"and with one heart, and voice, and soul sing his redeeming grace." then will his glory be complete. oh, that we may behold and enjoy it, too! amen. our next subject will be, _gleanings from the book of ruth_. yours affectionately, h. s. l. the pitcairn islanders and the queen. captain john lewthwaite, of maryport, has just returned to england, bringing with him a present for the queen from the inhabitants of pitcairn island. captain lewthwaite is master of the _cairmont_, of glasgow, and on his homeward voyage from vancouver island he called at pitcairn. he found that the descendants of the mutineers of the _bounty_ had received papers containing particulars of the queen's jubilee. they said they were anxious to make her majesty a jubilee present, and in the absence of anything more valuable they decided to send some straw hats of their manufacture. they also sent other goods made of straw, which they manipulate with a great deal of skill. the presents were handed to captain lewthwaite by m'avoy, the governor of the island, and grandson of one of the mutineers. the box containing the presents has been lodged with the vicar of peckham rye, who acts as agent for the islanders, to forward to the queen. there are now one hundred and twelve persons on the island, two-thirds being women. they use no strong drink, tobacco, or money. some time ago a harmonium was taken out to them, and captain lewthwaite says one woman plays it remarkably well. a man that cannot mind his own business is not to be trusted with the king's.--_saville._ prize essay. lessons to be derived from the history of daniel. the principal lessons to be derived from the history of daniel are--faith, moral courage, patience, perseverance, and the value of prayer. daniel's faith was steadfast in god, for, in spite of all opposition, he stood firm to his purpose. this also shows his moral courage, in standing alone before his god when all others were against him. he truly manifested the feeling, "though he slay me, yet will i trust in him." envied and persecuted by many, he knew that god was for him if men were against him. it is a dreadful sin to conspire against a child of god, for christ will say to such in the day of judgment, "depart from me, ye cursed." and again (mark ix. 42) he said, "whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea." daniel knew, too, the efficacy of prayer, for he was taught by god himself; and where god gives faith and a true spirit, he is sure to call it into exercise. daniel possessed an excellent spirit, and was preferred by king darius, who did not worship the true god, and was prevailed upon to establish an idolatrous decree. but daniel openly prayed to god. this showed his confidence in jehovah's omnipotence and faithfulness, and he was enabled to leave all in his hands, feeling sure that all things would work together for his good. it has been wisely said that "not one spark of real saving faith can be kindled in our hearts but by god himself," and if he does this, he will give us the supply we so much need. as a weak limb often grows strong by exercise, so will our faith, if it be of god, be strengthened by the very effort we make in stretching it out towards things unseen. daniel's chastening afterwards yielded "the peaceable fruit of righteousness" when the angel gabriel was sent to tell him he was greatly beloved, and that he should "stand in his lot at the end of his days." oh, what comfort this message must have brought to poor daniel! happy shall we be if the lord speaks thus to our hearts. laura creasey (aged 14 years). _sydney house, sleaford, lincolnshire._ [good essays have been received from charles southon, kate m. bond, alice j. wells, e. w. cray, martha ramsay, sarah hicks, e. b. knocker, and e. r. harris.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "cowper's poems." the subject for january will be, "what is the most desirable thing to possess in the spring-time of life?" and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the life of whitfield." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of december.] deeper than the love of home, deeper than the love of kindred, deeper than rest and recreation, deeper than the love of life, is the love of jesus.--_hamilton._ nothing is easier than fault-finding. no talent, no self-denial, no brains, no character is required to set up in the grumbling business. but those who are moved by a genuine desire to do good and benefit their fellows have little time for murmuring or complaint. interesting items. the length of the thames from source to mouth is 220 miles. the greatest height yet reached in a balloon is seven miles and a quarter. in 1707 it took two days and a half to get to oxford, a distance of fifty-five miles. the number of bibles sold by the british bible society up to 1881 was 100,035,933. two millions and a half is the number of persons who are said to be slaves to sabbath toil in america, and they generally receive no more than six days' wages for seven days' work. anna swan, the nova scotia giantess, who, with her husband, captain bates, the kentucky giant, was an earnest member of the baptist church, is dead. she was seven feet nine inches in height. a great improvement in sunday observance in the army and navy has, it is said, taken place. but there are old officers, like the gallant admiral, who deplore the fact that "the service is going to the dogs," because there is not so much pipeclay used on a sunday as there was when they joined the service. lord sudeley, of toddington, near cheltenham, has the following fruit trees planted in his grounds--gooseberry trees, 93,000; plum trees, 20,083; black currant trees, 167,000; apple trees, 2,919; pear trees, 852; damson trees, 8,845; cherry trees, 532; red currant trees, 10,000; raspberry trees, 25,000; cob nut, 100; strawberries (acres), 52. in addition, 100 scotch firs and 10,000 poplar trees. the hampton court vine.--this noble vine is more than a hundred and fifty years old, and nearly as many feet in length; its stem is thirty-two inches in circumference. in a good season it will yield more than two thousand bunches of fine grapes, weighing on an average seventeen ounces each bunch, or, in the whole, nearly one ton. they are of the finest black hamburg kind, and are said to be reserved chiefly for the queen's table. running away with a ritualistic crucifix.--it is stated that a crucifix adorns the eastern end of bourn church. many of the parishioners are opposed to certain ritualistic practices, and have shown their disapproval by leaving during divine service. during the week the church is left open, and on monday, september 17th, a young lady entered and took away the crucifix. the lady, having secured the crucifix, proceeded to bytham station, and thence to essendine. arrived there, she went into a friend's house and had a cup of tea. in the meantime, the vicar and the young lady's brother started in pursuit, discovered the missing ornament, and brought it safely back and replaced it in the church. the event has created great excitement in the village, and we understand that legal proceedings will be taken. wolves and telegraph lines.--it is believed in norway that wolves are frightened away by telegraph lines. while a vote was pending on a grant to a new line, a member of the storthing remarked that, while his constituents had no direct interest in it, they would support the grant because the wires would drive away the wolves. it is stated as a remarkable fact that since the first telegraph line was established, twenty years ago, wolves have never appeared in its neighbourhood. wolves, it is known, will not enter a roped enclosure. in connection with the mission to deep sea fishermen, a hospital ship was launched from the yard of messrs. fellows and son, of great yarmouth, on september 29th. she is 100 feet in length, and of 152 tons register. she is to be fitted up as a hospital ship, for the treatment of accident and illness among the fishermen of the north sea. she is named the _queen victoria_, and her majesty, who takes much interest in the mission, subscribed £50 towards the cost of the vessel. the launch was witnessed by a large number of people. the _queen victoria_ is the same type of vessel as those already in the mission service. a new alpine railway.--a railway from visp to zermatt is about to be built, an undertaking that has for a long time been considered impracticable. from the year 1891 travellers will be able to reach the el dorado of alpine tourists in about two hours and a half from the main line in the rhone valley, and step out of the railway carriage almost at the foot of the mighty matterhorn. the line is already marked out, and follows pretty closely the present bridle path. it is to be narrow gauge, without cogwheels, and will cross the visp torrent five times. the curves will be rather sharp, and there are to be six small tunnels. the capital for building the line is said to amount to six million francs, and work is to be commenced this autumn. the length will be twenty-eight miles, and as zermatt is 3,160 feet higher than the starting point, the incline will be over two per cent. an ancient document.--according to a telegram received from lloyds' signal station at st. catherine's point, isle of wight, a letter, supposed to have been written 103 years ago, was picked up on the beach, at rock end, on october 3rd. the following is a copy of the document:--"office of ordnance, 11th july, 1785. gentlemen,--his majesty's ship the _trusty_, being ordered to be paid off at portsmouth, you are, by the board's directions, to cause her powder to be taken on shore, and lodged in his majesty's magazine, under your charge.--i am, gentlemen, your humble servant, aug. rogers, secretary. respective officers, prondy's hard, w. a." there is a memo, on the back of the letter--"11th july, 1785. aug. rogers, esq. _trusty_ paid off." the number of preserves in austria alone, not counting those in hungary, is stated at 15,764. and on these there were shot, in 1887, 32 bears, 113 wolves, 24 lynxes, 9,490 stags, 60,252 roebucks, 7,709 chamois, 2,998 wild boars, 26,411 foxes, 9,729 polecats, 1,055 otters, 2,672 badgers, 333 marmots, and no fewer than 1,439,134 hares. wild rabbits are scarce in this country, and are not counted in the general record, but 27,797 were shot in bohemia, where there are most warrens. the totals for feathered game are--4,498 grouse, 1,300 wild geese, 102,748 pheasants, 1,336,934 partridges, 34,448 quails, 12,652 woodcock, 7,614 snipe, and 28,914 wild ducks. the birds of prey shot were 561 eagles, 38,610 owls, 1,365 horned owls, and 106,353 hawks, kestrels, kites, and vultures. the rabbit pest in new zealand.--the united states consul at auckland, in a recent report, describes the extent to which new zealand has been economically injured by rabbits, and the cost incurred in endeavouring to exterminate them. nothing, he says, could so overrun a country since the locusts in egypt. the rabbits have so eaten out the ranges that the capacity for maintaining sheep has greatly lessened, and the flocks have fallen off in numbers. at the stock conference of 1886, it was stated that rabbits reduced by a third the feeding capacity of land, and the weight of fleeces had decreased by 1 lb. to 1½ lb. each. the number of lambs decreased from thirty to forty per cent., while the death-rate increased from three to thirteen per cent. since 1882, when the rabbit act became law, government has expended £7,000 on crown lands alone, and it is estimated that during the last eight years private persons have spent £2,400,000 in extirpating rabbits. the methods generally in favour were fencing, poisoned grain (generally phosphorized oats), and ferrets, weasels, and stoats. large numbers of men have been hired from time to time to make war upon the rabbits, and it is said that these "rabbiters" encourage the vermin in every way, and have been caught killing the stoats and ferrets. the bonus system has been found objectionable and expensive. notwithstanding all that has been done, in some localities the rabbits have continually increased, and the damage has continued. it is hoped, however, that as the country becomes more populous, and the large tracts of land are occupied and cultivated, the numerous herds of rabbits which now roam over the land will disappear. one thousand men drowned.--it is reported from china that the whole of the new embankment of the yellow river, which was commenced last autumn at the spot where the old embankment gave way, has been completely swept away by the summer floods. it is said to have cost about £2,000,000 sterling (9,000,000 taels). as the floods rose, it was seen that the strain was becoming dangerous, and li hang-tsao, the high official in charge of the work, was sent for in hot haste, but before he could arrive the whole bank went down before the flood, and of the eight thousand feet of river wall lately completed, not an inch remains, and the waters are pouring unchecked through the immense gap into the honan province. from eight hundred to one thousand labourers, who were on the bank, were also swept away and drowned. it is reported from peking that all the officials concerned are being severely punished. a shark story.--sir,--the following story may be of some interest to many readers of your valuable paper. the sailing-ship _grassendale_ (registered 1,800 tons, and classed a1 at lloyds'), with a crew of about thirty-five hands, on its voyage from sydney to san francisco, met with great numbers of sharks, about twenty of which the crew killed. one shark, in particular, had a quantity of young ones with her. by some means the little ones were frightened, and swam into its mouth. naturally the crew were curious, and tried to hook it, which they eventually did. when they cut it open on deck, imagine their surprise to find no less than forty-two little sharks, measuring from twelve to fifteen inches in length, all alive, and capable of swimming as well as ever--a most remarkable incident, not heard of before, even in america, being, to all appearances, a shark's wonderful way to shelter their young. this information the writer has received this week direct from his brother, who is chief officer of the said ship, and he can, therefore, vouch for its truth.--yours truly, h. h. white. rye, october 10th, 1888.--_south eastern advertiser._ [illustration: "it was agreed that some one should read the bible to her." (_see page 266._)] the blind widow. "_cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days._"--ecclesiastes xi. 1. recollecting the feelings of discouragement and sadness which often oppressed my mind during the first months of our employment as district visitors and sunday school teachers in a retired village, and the many instances affording cause for joy and thankfulness which occurred during the latter years of our residence there, i am led to record one of them, with the hope of encouraging my fellow-labourers in this interesting occupation. one of the first cases which came under my own observation was that of a blind, aged widow, who lived a few steps from the church. her husband, who had been dead at this time about seven years, had led an ungodly life, and had fallen a victim to the habit of intemperance. she was left with one son, who was a lad at the time of his father's death, and was soon after bound as a parish apprentice to a good neighbour, a blacksmith, with whom he afterwards lived as servant. i think he was a good boy. he had remembered and taken pleasure in what he had learned at the sunday and national school. he was constant in his attendance at public worship, and showed much dutiful affection and attention to his widowed mother. in his spare hours he took care of her little garden, drew water, and tended the nursery of beautiful geraniums which adorned her windows; and when he could, he would come and read aloud to her on sundays out of the bible or some good book. all the poor widow's happiness centred in henry. it was her delight to do all she could for him; and many a time have i seen her, blind as she was, bestowing her cheerful labour in making his shirts as white as snow. she had one other son, older than henry, who had accompanied an uncle to the west indies, and as she had never heard of them since, she thought they had very likely both of them died in that climate, so unhealthy to english constitutions. mrs. worthington was, i think, naturally an amiable woman. many sorrows had subdued and broken her spirits, for she had once lived near london in very good circumstances. though in some degree acquainted with the leading doctrines of scripture, and believing them to be true, she was, it seemed, quite destitute of any hope towards god, or true faith in our lord jesus christ, as her saviour and her friend. to use her own words, "she had long ago given up herself for lost." when i asked what led her to do so, she replied that she knew she had not led a good life, and that some neighbours had told her it was no use for such a person as she was to think of going to heaven. in this sad state she was lingering on in a painful earthly existence, without one hope of anything better beyond it. there was a kind woman who lived in the next house who, when able, would lead her to church and back again. there she paid attention, and thus had many interesting scripture histories stored in her memory, for she had never learned to read. at length, with her own consent, it was agreed that some one should read the bible to her every forenoon. she listened with earnest attention and much interest, and at length found, to her great joy, that she was not excluded from hope in the mercy of that gracious god and saviour whose loving-kindness and tender mercy towards a lost and fallen race it reveals and declares. she discovered with delight that she was one of those very characters that had moved his heart to pity, and for whose redemption and happiness he had sent his only-begotten son into the world, and spared him not, "but delivered him up for us all," that he might make satisfaction for fallen sinners, and lead such back as reconciled children to their father and god. she received the gracious message with a sense of her own extreme need of its blessings, and welcomed it with her whole heart, as sent to her by the god of love. i think the first word of promise which was fixed in her mind was the engagement which god makes, in luke xi., to give the holy spirit to them that ask him. she felt that her mind was dark, and her heart cold and dead towards god. she wished it were otherwise, and prayed for the holy spirit. it was delightful to observe the heavenly light dawn in her once benighted soul, and to behold the altered state of all within. humility, thankfulness, hope, and love all appeared in their loveliness, and in various ways did she give incontestable evidence that old things had passed away, and that all things had become new. i remember calling one morning, and finding her much out of spirits. on inquiring the cause, i found that, it being the wake season, some of her former friends and acquaintances had visited her. it was their conversation which had grieved her, consisting very much of scandal and detraction, and she was greatly distressed at being obliged to hear it, and felt that she had done wrong by listening to it, so truly had her mind become conformed to the principles of the gospel of peace. before her change of heart she was much disposed to murmur, but when enabled to apprehend the love of god to her, her spirit was filled with gratitude to him for all his undeserved mercies; and however depressed her circumstances on earth might be, she had the comfortable hope of eternal bliss in that world where all tears will be for ever wiped away, and there will be no more want and pain, for "the lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters" (rev. vii. 17). one morning, to my great sorrow, i found her very ill. she was suffering from an attack of paralysis, which took away the use of her left side, and very much affected her speech. she was suddenly rendered almost helpless. at first she was greatly distressed, knowing that her own means were insufficient to pay any one to help her, and that the only alternative was a removal to the workhouse, a prospect which to her mind was full of terror and disgrace. it became, however, quite needful, for there was no prospect of amendment; and in about a fortnight she was obliged to quit a home endeared to her by a long residence, and the honourable independence with which she had occupied it, for though often obliged to take only bread for her breakfast and supper, she invariably paid her quarter's rent. her faith in christ, however, soon gained the ascendancy over her natural regret and sorrow, and she received this painful dispensation as her heavenly father's will, and submitted to it with quietness. the workhouse was about nine miles from our village. it was a well-conducted one, and favoured with the visits of some christian friends and a good clergyman. the matron was a kind person, and treated our blind friend with much consideration. her son visited her as often as he could, and paid her every dutiful attention, so that her home there was, i think, more comfortable than the one she had left. i never saw her afterwards, but i occasionally heard of her. she was almost entirely confined to her bed, but quite able to enjoy and profit by the kind visits and christian conversation of some persons who visited the workhouse. she found her god was present with her there, and he fulfilled to her that beautiful promise made to his people of old--"even to your old age i am he; and even to hoar hairs will i carry you; i have made, and i will bear; even i will carry, and will deliver you" (isa. xlvi. 4). a. e. h. terrible experience of a shipwrecked crew. two seamen, named john g. crone and james r. wilson, late of the scotch barque _henry james_, arrived a short time ago at the liverpool sailors' home, and gave information of the loss of that vessel, through which they underwent an extraordinary experience. the _henry james_ struck a coral reef near the island of palmyra, in the pacific ocean, and became a wreck. in an hour the crew had to abandon her, experiencing the greatest difficulty in getting away. the shipwrecked people only saved what they stood in, even the ship's papers and the captain's instruments being lost. they were in a sad plight. one boat containing provisions was swamped and the food lost. the captain nearly lost his life by being thrown into the sea. fortunately a box of matches was got ashore dry, and with these a fire was lighted. the island of palmyra was found to be uninhabited, but a search next day revealed a number of small huts made of boards and leaves. the island is about nine hundred miles from samoa. the mate, who had saved his sextant, volunteered to go in a small boat to samoa to seek for aid, and a boat was accordingly manned, the mate having for his companions the boatswain and three seamen. these poor fellows were three weeks in the open boat, in a tropical climate, and their sufferings were very severe. they traversed about thirteen hundred miles, and some days before arrival their food and water gave out. their sufferings were then terrible, and when they reached apia, their condition plainly showed what they had passed through. had their voyage been lengthened but a couple of days, it is likely all would have either gone mad or perished from starvation. the shipwrecked people on the island were in the meantime living on wild birds, birds' eggs, and on cocoa-nuts. they had no arms with them, and the only means of catching the birds was by sticks, the men having to get within reach of the birds before they could be caught. in the first days the only water the people had was what they caught by spreading out the leaves of trees. the matches at last got wet, and the poor people could not make their accustomed fire. a powerful telescope glass then furnished a burning glass, and enabled them to get fires once more. altogether they were on the island six weeks. at the end of this time the mail steamer _mariposa_ called at the island, and rescued the people from their island imprisonment. the party included two ladies (passengers) and six children. the board of trade have awarded a piece of plate to captain hayward, of the _mariposa_; a gold medal to mr. hart, first officer; and a silver medal and a sum of £2 each to seamen barpark, erving, allan, and driscoll, in connection with the rescue of the castaways. captain hayward, who was bound to san francisco with mails and passengers, voluntarily incurred the risk of a heavy fine for breach of contract, and set off with the above-named crew in an open boat, and rescued the unfortunate people. bible subjects for each sunday in december. dec. 2. commit to memory ps. xc. 2. dec. 9. commit to memory ps. xc. 4. dec. 16. commit to memory ps. xc. 10. dec. 23. commit to memory ps. xc. 12. dec. 30. commit to memory ps. xc. 14. he went wrong, but he found mercy. on sunday afternoon, august 26th, 1888, mr. carr, of leicester, gave an interesting address to the scholars attending the zion sunday school, trowbridge. after singing and prayer, mr. carr took "the prodigal son" as his subject, which he explained in a most interesting manner. he said:-"once upon a time there were two brothers. one of them ran away, but he got into no end of trouble. but while he was so wretched, something occurred with him, and by-and-bye he was brought back in peace to his father's house, and was happy for ever afterward. "most of you know that this is the outline of the parable of 'the prodigal son,' and i am going to try and tell you the details of it. i shall divide it into four parts. the first one is _ruin_; the second, _repentance_; the third, _return_; the fourth, _reception_. he was ruined. by grace he repented, returned to his father, and was joyfully received by him. "first, then, _ruin_. now, there are steps leading to ruin. you find the prodigal was happy at home at first. like adam, in the garden of eden, god gave him a great many good gifts, as he has given you. he has given us life, hearing, eyesight, and intellect. the prodigal had a large portion of good gifts, but what did he do? he wandered away from his father, and went into a far country. do you like to be away from home? remember this--if you do, it is the first step to your ruin, as it was with the prodigal. he took his journey into a far country, where he was far away from his father; and so we, in our natural state, are far away from god. do you ever think what a dreadful thing it is to be far away from god? the prodigal wanted to be far from him. but when there, at a distance from his father, he had no god to go to in his troubles. he doubtless did not like the text, 'thou god seest me.' if you are like this, remember that every sin you commit is written in his remembrance book. but the prodigal made up his mind not to trouble about that. have you thus done so? if so, you will have to trouble about it some day. there is a day coming when we shall all have to stand before god, and it is a dreadful subject for those to think of who, like the prodigal, are now at a distance from god. therefore, we see that _distance_ is the first step. "the next one is _dissipation_. he wasted his substance--put his gifts to a wrong use. have we wasted the good things which god has given us? if so, it is the road to ruin. "after he had thus wasted his substance by riotous living and falling into bad company, there came another step, namely, _destitution_, which we all have come to spiritually, and ere long we who have life, health, bright eyes, rosy cheeks, and busy hands, shall be going to the grave. by-and-bye we shall have spent it all, and we shall be nothing but a heap of dust and ashes. "but you find that, when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine, and he began to be in want. he then fell into disgrace, and went to a citizen of that country to see if he could help him. he went into the fields to feed swine, and he had not a friend to speak to--none to help him. the hand of god had gone out against him, and all his friends forsook him. "that is just the state of the ungodly. but when he was in the very heat of this ruin, something happened to him. he was brought to _repentance_. what was his first step to repentance? he was brought to himself--that is, a right understanding was given to him. what had the prodigal a right understanding about? about himself. sin had made a madman of him, but now he began to consider the extent of his misery. how many of you have considered what you are in the sight of god? you may be dead before next sunday. where would you be? in heaven or in hell? the prodigal began to consider what his sin had done for him. he said, 'how many hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and i perish with hunger!' he knew he was perishing; and we are, if christ has not saved us. "the first step was, a right understanding. now comes the second step, knowledge of the extent of his misery, thirdly, a felt sense that he was perishing; then, fourthly, a wise resolution--'i will arise, and go to my father.' he had been trying to make himself more respectable, but found he could not, but that he must go to his father just as he was. thus he was brought to himself. grace did this, and if grace works in us there will be a willingness to go to god. either you want to be near to god, or, like the prodigal, you want to shun the very thoughts of god. we are either on the road to ruin or salvation. what did the prodigal say to his father? 'father, i have sinned.' he knew he was a sinner, and that he had sinned, and he confessed his unworthiness. he said, 'i am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants.' he was brought to repentance, and he made up his mind to return to his father. but his father was a long way off--too far for him to see him. but his father saw him while he was yet a great way off, and had compassion on him. he did not say, 'i see that naughty boy that wandered from me, and got into so much trouble and sin, and now i will punish him.' but he had compassion on him, and did not say a word about his wicked ways. 'he ran.' now, look, here was the prodigal creeping to his father, but the father 'ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.' no doubt he had a dirty face, but the father did not wait till his face was clean. just as we are as sinners, so the prodigal here was in all his rags. he said to his father, 'but, father, i am a vile sinner. i have sinned against heaven and in thy sight.' thus he told his father just what he was. "now then comes the fourth part--_his reception by his father_. when his father met him he took no notice of his sins, did not answer him a word, but he said to his servants, 'bring forth the best robe.' that was the robe of righteousness. here were manifested the riches of divine grace. the prodigal had nothing but sin and grief, but now his father gave him a better robe than he ever had before. his first robe was not the best. it was one of creature-righteousness, but now he had lost it; and when he was brought back by grace he had a better robe given him. a robe of righteousness is better than one of creature-righteousness. the best robe was brought forth, and a ring was put on his finger. a ring is something which has no beginning nor end, and the ring is a most blessed emblem of eternity. it has neither beginning nor end. and a ring denotes love--love of the giver to the receiver. this ring denotes a father's eternal love. his father loved him, all the time the prodigal was sinning against him, with an eternal love. and they put shoes on his feet--shoes of the preparation of the gospel. they were shoes that would wear well. the saints have a rough road to travel, and therefore they need shoes of iron and brass. then the fatted calf was brought and killed, and they had a great feast and were merry, and we do not read that they ever left off. there is no end to the rejoicings over repenting, returning sinners. oh, that we all may know what it is to be redeemed by grace! this parable teaches us man's ruin, christ's redemption, and a father's eternal love." m. g. johnnie's christmas. [this, and three other pieces of poetry, including the one given last month, were written for a boy who recently died. after long and severe suffering he was seized with a fit. he held up both arms, and, as the struggles ceased, he looked up and said, "come! come!" his mother asked him if he thought he should go to heaven. he replied, "i'm sure of it. jesus told me he would take me, and he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it."--ed.] hang out the toys for the little ones; pile up the raisins, and take out the stones; but nut, and pudding, and christmas tree, says little johnnie, are not for me. if the children frolic i have to start, with a bitter pain at my silent heart; and my throbbing head is afraid to move at sound of the voices which most i love. it is nice to feel, though sitting here, that mother is with me, and baby dear, for some of my little friends have lain on a hospital bed, in lonely pain. oh, god, my friend, thou art surely kind, and we, poor sinners, are weak and blind; little we think, and little know, of the love that suffered for human woe. we hail thy birth with a gladsome song, but thou hadst sorrow life's journey long; and thou hadst power thyself to free, yet chose to suffer for things like me. oh, come to my heart this christmas day! i am weak and weary, and far away; since help and mercy are thy delight, oh, come to my father's house to-night! bring rest for my mother, and joy for me; my head will not throb as i listen to thee; and my heart, though too weak for a footfall below, will bound, without aching, thy coming to know. thou callest the children, and i am a child; thou callest the guilty, and i am defiled; they gather about thee in joyful array; oh, put me among them, lord jesus, to-day! put one of my hands in that right hand of thine, and hold out thy wounds to thy father divine; he would not, he could not, say nay unto thee, and i should for ever thy diadem be. m. a. chaplin. _galleywood, chelmsford._ answer to bible enigma. (_page 255._) "_peace be unto you._"--john xx. 19. p ekah 2 kings xv. 25. e glon judges iii. 14. a masa 2 samuel xvii. 25. c ush 1 chronicles i. 8. e uphrates deuteronomy i. 7. b enjamin genesis xxxv. 24. e lah 1 kings xvi. 8. u rijah 2 kings xvi. 10. n ahor genesis xi. 26. t opaz exodus xxxix. 10. o g psalm cxxxvi. 20. y oke jeremiah xxvii. 8. o badiah 1 kings xviii. 3. u nicorn numbers xxiii. 22. ann pickworth (aged 11 years). _sydney house, sleaford._ bunyan's death. it was on the 31st of august, 1688, that john bunyan left the valley of the shadow of death, doubting castle, vanity fair, and all those other stages of the progress of a soul in its efforts to find rest and peace, to cross the dark river that, in his immortal dream, flowed under the walls of the celestial city. this is how mr. froude describes the closing scene of his great life:-"his end was characteristic. it was brought on by exposure when he was engaged in an act of charity. a quarrel had broken out in a family at reading with which bunyan had some acquaintance. a father had taken offence at his son, and threatened to disinherit him. bunyan undertook a journey on horseback from bedford to reading, in the hope of reconciling them. he succeeded, but at the cost of his life. returning by london, he was overtaken on the road by a storm of rain, and was wetted through before he could find shelter. the chill, falling on a constitution already weakened by illness, brought on fever. he was able to reach the house of mr. strudwick, one of his london friends, but he never left his bed afterwards. in ten days he was dead." mr. froude thinks that the exact date is uncertain; but southey and other biographers generally fix it upon the 31st of august. he was buried in a vault belonging to the strudwick family, in the famous old nonconformist burial ground of bunhill fields, where his monument--restored of late years by admiring and appreciative friends--may be seen any day by the passer-by, on which runs this inscription--"mr. john bunyan, author of 'the pilgrim's progress,' ob. 31st august, 1688, æt. 60." john bunyan wrote sixty books, and lived sixty years. his chief work, "the pilgrim's progress," has been translated into seventy-two distinct languages and dialects, and thus has had a wider circulation and been more read than any book next to the scriptures. more than fifty years ago macaulay spoke of it as "the only book of its kind that possesses a strong human interest--that, while other allegories only amuse the fancy, this has been read by thousands with tears." what was true then is no less true now. extraordinary story of the sea. a queenstown correspondent telegraphs that the national line steamer _spain_, from new york, which arrived at queenstown recently, brings intelligence that an aged gentleman, named murtagh, residing in brooklyn, received a letter on october 11th, from one of the uninhabited islands of the south sea group, ojee, written by a friend of his, named captain green, who was supposed to have been lost at sea in 1858, in a vessel commanded by him, called the _confederation_. she sailed from new york, in february of that year, for australia, and not having been heard of afterwards, it was presumed that she had foundered with all on board, numbering sixteen, including two women. the letter, written on a soiled leaf of a ship's log, was dated july, 1887, and had been put aboard a whaling barque which passed near the island about that time. the writer observes that no doubt all hands aboard the _confederation_ had been given up as lost. he then relates how the vessel foundered in a gale after being nine weeks at sea, and how her crew, including himself and two women, having taken to the boats, after forty days, landed on the coral reefs of the island of ojee, there being no signs of habitation, but an abundance of game, fish, fruits, and water. no vessel came near the place until one evening in december, 1862, when eight of the crew put off in a boat to intercept her. the weather being very stormy, they never returned to the island, and captain green thinks they were lost. he further states that the women became the wives of two of the remaining castaways, and that although there had been several deaths on the island, the population at the time he wrote consisted of twelve persons, who felt quite contented. they were, however, badly in need of clothing. during thirty years, they had communicated from the island with only three vessels, and this letter had been four years written and ready to be sent by some ship. captain green adds that he is sixty-eight years of age, and in good health. pleading. (ruth i. 16.) "intreat me not to leave thee," lord; what is this world to me? no happiness can it afford, o god, apart from thee. thou art the joy of my delights; the life of life to me; the comfort of my darkest nights; yea, all in all to me. dark were this world without thee, lord, but, lighted with thy love, thy watchfulness, thy tender care, more fully here i prove. more subject for my song above i gather day by day; deeper experience of that love which guides my pilgrim way. oh, give me grace to serve thee, lord, each swiftly-passing day, that i the approving word, "well done," at last may hear thee say. a sower. the anti-romish book. during the reign of that popish king, james ii., the law in scotland was, that no clergyman might preach, and that no bookseller might sell, any book that reflected on the romish church. one of the royal messengers entered a bookseller's shop in edinburgh. "had he any books in stock written against the roman catholic church?" "yes, he had a book that reflected very severely indeed against that church. might he sell it?" "let me see it," said the messenger. the old bookseller went to his shelves and took down a volume--a book which does certainly speak very emphatically against romanism--the bible! bible enigma. my 1, 11, 7, 6, 9, 5, a governor of the jews. my 2, 10, 5, 14, 6, the father of joanna. my 3, 13, a king of bashan. my 4, 6, 14, 10, 9, 11, a disobedient queen. my 5, 8, 11, a priest. my 6, 4, 11, 9, 10, the city of hadad. my 7, 3, 9, 6, 12, the brother of timna. my 8, 5, 4, 11, one of the twelve tribes. my 9, 3, 7, 6, a son of issachar. my 10, 5, 12, the son of zephaniah. my 11, 14, 2, 6, 5, 8, the surname of jacob. my 12, 3, 1, 10, a city threatened with a plague. my 13, 11, 10, 3, 12, a river of eden. my 14, 11, 4, 6, 12, a jewish month. my whole is a precept given by an apostle to a christian church. thomas tyler (aged 13 years). _potton, beds._ hop picking.--the last pole. (_frontispiece to volume._) the little gleaner no doubt is read and welcomed as well by the aged and middle-aged as the young, for whom it is especially intended. in the southern counties, the readers of the little gleaner, of all ages, are more or less familiar with "the last pole." in the counties more north, where we hope the little gleaner is read with equal interest, many dear children have never seen that lovely and charming sight of nature in cultivation, the hop garden. to us who, by the hand of providence, are located in these hop-growing districts, the hop gardens in the months of august and september are always interesting, and share largely in our love and admiration for the products of nature and industry combined. for the information of those not so familiar as ourselves with the hop plant under cultivation, we would say that many hundreds of poor people find employment for a few weeks in the autumn at hop picking, by which they are able to earn a little money, which is useful in helping them to pay their rent and provide the necessaries of life. this time is looked forward to, year by year, with deep interest by such. among the customs and ceremonies of the hop gardens, at the time of picking, or gathering, there is generally a little ceremony in pulling and picking the last pole. in september, 1886, the writer of these lines was one of the pickers in a very lovely hop garden in kent, and witnessed the pulling down of many thousands of these heavily-laden hop poles, in all their fresh and lively beauty. but lo and behold! it came not only to the last day, and the last hill (or stool of three poles), but to the last pole, which was selected beforehand, and remained standing until all the others were picked. then comes the master himself, and takes down this last pole, amid the waving of hats, and shouts of "hurrah! hurrah!" but was this all? no, no! there were sad hearts that sighed as they remembered the days of adversity endured by them, and as they wondered what was to be their next employment, and how their table was to be supplied during the coming winter, should it not be their turn to be gathered in like the poles that had passed under their hands. but one poor, trembling heart among the rest could not help thinking of that last great day, when the last stone of that great temple not made with hands should be carried up with shouts of "grace, grace unto it!" and the following lines came softly into the mind- "the moon and stars shall lose their light; the sun shall sink in endless night; both heaven and earth shall pass away; the works of nature all decay. "but they who in the lord confide, and shelter in his wounded side, shall see the danger overpast, stand every storm, and live at last." what! those poor bruised reeds who fear that they shall never hold up their heads again--shall they outlive the moon? shall they outshine the sun? however, let us return to our subject--the last pole--and reflect. "we, like the crowded poles, all stand, and all are sure to fall; the dog and hook[13] are in god's hand, and soon will reach us all." [13] in hop gardens these are instruments used by those who lift the poles.--ed. yes, my dear young readers, whatever may be those delightsome games of which you are so fond, the last game will soon come. yea, how soon will be the end of all our earthly pleasures none of us can tell. if we look forward to any day or time of some kind of pleasure, it may seem to approach us very slowly, but how soon do we look behind us, and say, "alas! that too has gone, never, never more to return." in like manner also we miss a dear brother or dear sister, a friend, schoolmate, or teacher; perhaps a dear, loving mother or father. "ah!" we say, "they will never return again." sometimes we reflect with sorrow upon some unkind words or actions towards them--some pain and grief that we caused them. perhaps we were too proud or too stubborn to ask their forgiveness while they were with us, so we let the sun go down upon our wrath, and now we can never forgive ourselves. though they are gone, we see them still- "we see their smiles, we see their tears; the grave can never hide them; a few more days, or months, or years, a few more sighs, a few more tears, and we shall lie beside them." seeing that it is quite uncertain which of us will be the next to have our earthly ties cut, and all our bloom and beauty stripped off, may i ask my dear young friends what are their thoughts on the subject? whether it is passed over with indifference, presuming you shall be as well off in the end as other people, or are there moments when thoughts arise like these--"oh, if death should overtake me as i am--so careless, so unconcerned, so thoughtless, and yet unpardoned! oh, if my name should be left out--and how can i expect anything else--so prayerless as i am, for the most part, and my performance so unlike prayer when i do make the attempt? oh, if i could but know that the dear lord had a favour towards me! why, if all the world were mine, i would lay it all down this minute to be sure that jesus died for me"? and is there sometimes a little thought stealing from thine heart, and a tear like a drop of the morning dew trickling from thine eye, which says, "oh, if ever i should be able to say, 'bless the lord, o my soul,' how i should leap for joy to be thus quite sure of being the lord's"? then, if this is your feeling after christ jesus, i will tell you how it will be with you some day. the lord, who has said, "seek, and ye shall find," will give you the desire of your heart, even pardon and peace through faith in his blood, and at last- "when shivering in the arms of death, when friends shall watch thy parting breath, though then thy lips can no more speak, though deathly paleness clads thy cheek, glory shall fill thy soul." t. g. our bible class. gleanings from the book of ruth. the book of ruth is supposed to have been written in the reign of her great-grandson, perhaps by his own pen. it is a beautifully interesting story. as a fragment of history, it is connected with the birth of david and of david's lord. as a record of god's providence, it shows how "all things work together for good to them that love god, to them who are the called according to his purpose." the two chief personages in this book, the hero and heroine of the narrative, are boaz, the near kinsman of naomi, "the mighty man of wealth" in bethlehem, and ruth, the moabitess, the stranger and foreigner, who left her own people and her father's false gods, and came to put her trust beneath the shadow of jehovah's wings. we will look at the hero first, because, though the book is called by ruth's name, all her honour was derived from her connection with israel, the chosen nation, to which boaz naturally belonged, and because, as we think of his riches, his faithfulness, and his kindness, we cannot help exclaiming, "surely a greater than boaz is here!" he was the near kinsman of naomi's husband, and the same hebrew word is called "redeemer" (job xix. 25). and how often we speak of jesus as "the redeemer," who "gave himself a ransom for many." the ancient "goel," or "near kinsman," had many important rights and responsibilities. abraham was nearly related to lot, and when the latter was taken prisoner, his uncle took all his servants with him and went to the rescue, because he was his near kinsman, and he redeemed him by conquest, through the help of god, in whom he trusted (gen. xiv.). if a man of israel died, leaving no children to take his property, his "near kinsman," if unmarried, was expected to marry the widow, and the children that they might have afterwards were to be called by the name and take the lands of the first husband. if a hebrew became poor, and sold his land--or, still worse, sold himself for a slave--his kinsman was expected to redeem him and his possessions if he could (lev. xxv. 25, 47-49). thus boaz, as naomi's kinsman, redeemed her inheritance, and married the childless widow of her son chilion, the woman who was no longer to be called a stranger and a foreigner, but a fellow-subject of israel's god and king. so jesus--who redeemed his church, his bride, his people, and secured to them the rich inheritance they had lost by sin--was, and is, the near kinsman of his beloved ones. they were, and always will be, "a people near unto him" (psa. cxlviii. 14). his own kindred he called them when he came to redeem them (matt. xii. 50). his father loved them, and he loved them also, and the kindness of god the saviour was shown when he came down from heaven for their sakes. "kindness!" sweet word! it means the act of a kinsman, and god's kindness is "loving-kindness," the sweetest description we can possibly have of the tender pity and grace of the lord. but the kindness shown by boaz was only a dim shadow of the love of the "great redeemer from above." he did not make much sacrifice apparently when he purchased naomi's inheritance and made ruth his wife, but "ye know the grace of our lord jesus christ, who, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich." and more, far more, than this--he suffered scorn, and shame, and death itself--the bitterest of deaths. he gave himself--he laid down the life that was so dear to himself, so precious to his father--that he might redeem, buy them back to god by his blood. he endured their punishment, he paid their debts, and then, since satan had made them his slaves, like abraham, jesus fought for his kindred, only he fought alone. he conquered the strong one, and set the captives free, and satan still must yield up his prey at christ's command. the redeemer ever proves himself "mighty to save" those for whom he died. then ruth furnishes us with a striking picture of one who is seeking jesus. she was not a native of the promised land--not born of israelitish parents. she reminds us of what paul says--we all are, as sinners, "children of disobedience," "children of wrath," "far from god by wicked works." but a change came over her mind and spirit. "the lord opened her heart to attend unto the things spoken" by naomi. a new, a heavenly light dawned upon her, and she saw the evil of idolatry and sin--the beauty of holiness and god--so that, like moses, she "chose rather to suffer affliction with his people than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." she would sooner "lodge" with naomi in poverty, than dwell in comfort among her former companions; and before she thought of being enriched and made happy by boaz, she had "chosen that good part" which shall never be taken away from those who seek and find it. the diligent shall be made prosperous, and ruth gleaned in the fields of boaz before she knew anything of the relationship he bore to her late husband's family. she was not ashamed to labour as a poor and needy woman, and she gained a good supply of corn from her work by the special favour of boaz. there is a remarkable little word connected with her choice of that field. it was her "hap" to light upon it--a word not very often found in the bible, which always traces everything, great or small, to the will and permission of god. yet this syllable of three letters came "of purpose" into the record, and teaches us that all the "accidents" of our lives, pleasant as well as painful, are directed and overruled by the lord. things "come to pass," and we are filled with wonder, but it is because "he doeth all things well." about thirty years ago, one sabbath morning, a group of youths were starting from clerkenwell, intending to spend the day gathering blackberries in highgate woods. it so happened that a dispute arose just outside the chapel where my late dear pastor preached, and one lad refused to go any further with his companions. to while away the time he peeped into the chapel just as the hymn, "when thou, my righteous judge, shalt come," was being given out, and he ventured to slip into a seat in the gallery. he was so much impressed by what he heard that he came again, was savingly converted to god, was baptized, and remained for many years an honourable member of the church. his "hap was to light upon" a field of gospel corn, and he received a rich blessing, but his steps, like ruth's, were directed by the lord.[14] [14] from the "memoir of the late mr. john hazelton." and we learn the benefit of wise, christian counsel. ruth needed naomi very much, poor and lonely though she was. from her she learned the good news of the rich man's kinship; from her she received instructions how to act so as to ensure his protection and care. her conduct, strange as it would be to-day, was in those early times quite in harmony with the behaviour of a virtuous, modest woman, but it has its chief charm when we see in it a picture of one who is seeking jesus. some dear christian friend, like naomi, encourages and instructs the youthful seeker by telling of the love and grace of the saviour, and saying, as a beloved minister once said to a young person, "i cannot give you the blessing; _he_ can." naomi wanted the help of boaz as well as ruth, and all god's people, old or young, strong or weak, need and crave the loving care of jesus, but it is a privilege and joy to commend one another to him, and tell of his goodness and grace "who is rich unto all that call upon him." in seeking ruth's happiness naomi found her own great joy (see chap. iv. 14). in dutiful consideration for naomi, ruth obtained a hundred-fold more than she could ever have hoped to find, as an honoured wife and mother favoured with both earthly and heavenly prosperity. those who honour god he will honour. those who water others shall be watered themselves. may we receive from the lord that spirit of love which seeks the welfare of others, and the glory of god, as well as our own happiness. our next subject will be, isaiah xxxv. 8--_the king's highway, and its travellers._ your affectionate friend, h. s. l. the editor's closing address to his young friends. dear young friends,--we are nearing the close of another year, and we may be nearer the close of our mortal career than we think. what a mercy if we belong to christ! if so, we are blessed indeed, for those who are his are forgiven their iniquity, are justified from all unrighteousness, are reconciled to god, and made "accepted in the beloved." oh, that you, dear reader, may enjoy that blessed portion! then, come poverty or wealth, sickness or health, life or death, all will be well with you. all such are the children of god, and none besides. to those who love him, he will say, "come, ye blessed of my father"; but to those who are "without christ" he will say, "depart, ye cursed!" which will be your lot? god grant that you may be taught to flee as sinners to him who "died for the ungodly," and who has said, "him that cometh unto me i will in no wise cast out." we trust you will never find rest and peace only in coming to christ. if our feeble labours in sending forth the gleaner are but blessed to this end, we shall be amply rewarded, and we wish the lord to have all the glory. dear young friends, we do not ask you to join the "salvation army," so called, but we hope you may be an army yourselves, seeking to spread abroad good reading among both young and old; and we believe that the gleaner and sower will be found most acceptable and adapted for such a purpose, therefore we ask you to join the "try army," and shall be glad to receive the names of any who are willing to enlist, to whom we will send sixteen magazines, post free, monthly, for one shilling and twopence. the postage rate, however, will not allow us to send a less number at a reduction, but a larger number can be sent in proportion, for schools. the almanacks are nicely got up, and will be found useful to put on walls in bed-rooms, &c. we hope that you will get orders for as many as possible. we will send fifteen for one shilling, post free; no less number can be sent at a reduction. this we do to encourage our readers to obtain subscribers, and to spread abroad the magazines. the yearly volumes are very nice books for presents. gleaner, picture boards, very attractive, three volumes, four shillings; gleaner, cloth, also sower, cloth, three volumes, five shillings, post free. now, dear young friends, we hope you will become a "try army," and that we shall see pleasing results arise from your efforts. we hope, too, if spared, shortly to greet you again with "a happy new year," and may the lord bless you each and all with the best of all blessings, that we and you may rejoice together in his mercy, and live to show forth his praise. trusting you will not forget us, and that we may still be helped to pray and labour for your good, we remain, your affectionate friend, the editor. p.s.--scatter abroad our _friendly words_, 1s. 6d. per hundred, post free. all are pleased to receive them. an explanation. in inserting the article, "the fish that swallowed jonah," in last month's gleaner, we had no idea of controverting the testimony of scripture, but merely to show that the quibbles raised by sceptics, as to the truth of a whale being able to do so, are at least very silly. god could very easily prepare a whale for such a purpose. but, as sharks are included in the term used in the original by christ, the word "fish," as in jonah, would be quite as correct. the editor. prize essay. the disobedience of our first parents, and its results. in the bible it is said that adam was formed before eve, and that they were both placed in eden, where there was one tree of which god said they might not eat. it is also said that adam was not deceived, but the woman, being deceived, was first in the transgression (1 tim. ii. 13, 14). probably the woman was by herself when the tempter came to her in the likeness of a serpent, and told her that she would not die if she partook of the fruit which god had commanded her not to eat; but if they took of it they would be as gods, knowing good and evil. with this saying the tempter succeeded in getting the woman to take the fruit of the tree of which god told her not to eat, for she looked upon it as "a tree good for food, pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise" (gen. iii. 6), and she wanted to be as god. all this was instilled into the heart of the woman by the tempter, and god being left out of her thoughts, she now takes of the fruit of the tree, eats of it, and gives to her husband, and he also eats of it. such was the fact of disobedience, which was most heinous in the sight of god. thus they both fell from that happy state by this one act of disobedience, and were no longer allowed to remain in paradise. their life was forfeited. man became dead in sin, and was placed at a great distance from god, no more in paradise, but under the power of the prince and ruler of this world. the result of this act of disobedience has filled the earth with pride, self-will, and violence; for all the vice and misery that have ever been known in this world, have been the result of disobedience. all that descend from adam are born in his fallen image, are sinners against god, and judgment has come upon all men to condemnation. but "where sin abounded, grace has much more abounded," since christ, the seed of the woman, has come, as god said, and has bruised the serpent's head, that as "sin has reigned unto death, even so might grace reign, through righteousness, unto eternal life, by jesus christ our lord" (rom. v. 20, 21), who hath abolished death, and "brought life and immortality to light by the gospel" (2 tim. i. 10); and by his act of obedience unto death, even the death of the cross, believers are made righteous in him--"for if by one man's offence death reigned by one, much more they which receive abundance of grace and of the gift of righteousness shall reign in life by one, jesus christ" (rom. v. 17). james herbert collins (aged 11 years). _commissariat office, cork._ [very good essays have also been received from ada cannings, leonard lucock, bessie hills, e. b. knocker, w. e. cray, w. a. tooke, and r. a. stevens.] [the writer of the above essay receives a copy of "the loss of all things for christ." the subject for february will be, "why was saul rejected of god?" and the prize to be given for the best essay on that subject, a copy of "the life of john newton." all competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. papers must be sent direct to the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings, by the first of january.] if aught good thou canst not say of thy brother, foe, or friend, take thou, then, the silent way, lest in word thou shouldst offend. interesting items. m. de lesseps declares that the panama canal will be opened in july, 1890. since the beginning of her reign, queen victoria has been paid approximately £30,000,000 by her subjects. the daily consumption of needles in america is said to be 4,200,000, most of which come from redditch, england. there are 3,100 smiths enrolled in the city directory of philadelphia. there are 250 john smiths and 310 william smiths. capture of a sword fish.--a specimen of the sword fish was captured, a week or two ago, in long reach, milton creek, sittingbourne, by a bargeman. the fish measured 5 ft. 2 in. from end of tail to tip of sword. caroline herschel, the accomplished partner of her brother's astronomical labours, never could remember the multiplication table, and always had to carry a copy of it about with her. there are now in the united kingdom 1,350 workmen's retail stores, with nearly one million members, and a capital of £9,000,000, besides some millions on deposit. the sales last year to members were over £25,000,000, with £3,000,000 profits. valuable remedy for erysipelas.--one handful of sage, two handfuls of elder leaves, one ounce of alum. the whole of the foregoing to be boiled in a quart of iron water from the blacksmith's forge, until reduced to a pint. to be used as a wash. thomas emmitt, a man employed on the permanent way of the lancashire and yorkshire railway, has received intimation that a gold medal will be presented to him for his bravery in jumping on to a runaway engine at blackburn, and stopping it. it is said that, in 1887, no fewer than 22,131 human beings died from snake-bite in india, and the number of cattle killed by snakes was 2,514; 417,596 snakes were destroyed, and 25,360 rupees were paid by the government as rewards for their destruction. the question of the sunday opening of libraries is being excitedly agitated in bolton. a week or two ago lord hobhouse addressed a meeting, presided over by the vicar, in favour of opening, and quoted a letter in support from the bishop of manchester. the clergy of the diocese have organized an opposition, the vicar standing alone in support of the opening, and recently, at a large gathering, a resolution against opening was carried with the wildest enthusiasm, an amendment by a leading socialist being defeated. the probabilities of there being large coal deposits under london are discussed at considerable length by a correspondent of the _times_. the speculations of geologists on the subject have recently been much assisted by several deep borings, the principal of which have been those of kentish town. a boat drifted from its moorings off camia; a fishing village nine miles from boulogne, on tuesday evening, october 16th. an old fisherman, named charles coffier, was the only person on board, and he had nothing to eat for four nights and three and a half days, when the boat was driven by a breeze into hastings. the queen reads, or rather, has read to her, the _times_ and the _morning post_ every morning. copies are sent direct to her, printed on specially thick paper. her secretary goes through them, marks with a blue pencil all the important items, and these are then read to her by the two ladies who officiate as readers. sunday school anniversary, milton street, hollinwood, lancashire.--this was held on october 14th, when two sermons were preached, morning and evening, by mr. d. smith, of halifax, and an address was delivered by mr. j. holgate, of burnley, special hymns being sung by the scholars. the congregations were good, and the services were much appreciated. the collections amounted to £13 14s. 11d. c. h. w. roman catholic pilgrims in westminster abbey.--on saturday, october 13th, the "feast of st. edward, king and confessor," was celebrated in all the roman catholic churches in london, and with more than ordinary pomp at that of ss. peter and edward (which is dedicated to his memory) in palace street, westminster, where a pontifical high mass _coram episcopo_ was sung by dr. j. l. patterson, "bishop of emmaus." at the conclusion of the mass, the congregation, which included several persons who had come from preston and other parts of lancashire and different counties of england for the occasion, formed a procession and wended their way to the abbey, where they offered up prayers at the shrine of st. edward, king and confessor. no opposition was offered to the pilgrims and devotees by the authorities of the abbey. where is our protestantism gone to? chinese is spoken by 400,000,000, hindostani by something more than 100,000,000, english by more than 100,000,000, russian by more than 70,000,000, german by more than 58,000,000, and french by about 40,000,000. will spain ever be tolerant? the supreme court of madrid has confirmed the decision of a provincial tribunal condemning a spanish protestant to five days' imprisonment, with a fine of one pound and costs, for having persisted in remaining with his hat on when he met a catholic procession. an army of spiders.--a dangerous spider that is found on the pampas of central america, and belonging to the lycoss species, is thus described in a letter:--"when a person passes near, say within three or four feet of its lurking place, it starts up and gives chase, and will often follow for a distance of thirty or forty yards. i came once very nearly getting bitten by one of these savage creatures. riding at an easy trot over the dry grass, i suddenly observed a spider pursuing me, leaping swiftly along and keeping up with my beast. i aimed a blow with my whip, and the point of the lash struck the ground close to it, when it leaped upon and ran up the lash, and was within three or four inches of my hand, when i flung the whip from me. the gauchos have a very quaint ballad which tells that the city of cordova was once invaded by an army of monstrous spiders, and that the townspeople went out with beating drums and flags flying to repel the invasion, and, after firing several volleys, they were forced to return and fly for their lives." the whale hunt at spithead.--the little coast villages of bembridge and sea view, in the isle of wight, were thrown into quite a commotion on friday, september 21st, by the appearance of a huge whale, between thirty and forty feet long, off the mouth of brading harbour. it was observed to be swimming about early in the morning, and the little steamer _island queen_, which runs between southsea and bembridge, had an unpleasant meeting with the creature. much to the alarm of the passengers, the whale would "keep company," and for some time it was dangerously close to the little vessel. it furiously lashed the sea with its tail, and commenced to "blow," the result being that the captain, who was on the bridge, and many of the passengers were deluged with water. no harm, however, was done, and the steamer eventually got clear, the whale swimming out to sea. later on it again put in an appearance, but by this time the islanders were ready for it, and a large number of fishing-boats, watermen, and others put out. the creature was surrounded, and was at length shot. it was then towed on to sea view beach, where it has been visited by some hundreds of people. at high tide the whale was partially covered. its dimensions are as follow--length of fish, 35 ft.; girth, 20 ft.; length of mouth from point to top of jaw, 7 ft.; length of fins, 4 ft. each; width of tail, 8 ft.; supposed weight, 10 tons. estimated value of a sperm whale, £100. the whale has been purchased by mr. g. drover, of cowes. chimneys.--in the year 1200 chimneys were scarcely known in england. one only was allowed in a religious house, one in a manor house, and one in the great hall of a castle or lord's house; but in other houses the smoke found its way out as it could. the writers of the fourteenth century seem to have considered them as the newest invention of luxury. in henry viii.'s reign the university of oxford had no fire allowed, for it is mentioned that after the students had supped, having no fire in the winter, they were obliged to take a good run for half an hour to get heat in their feet before they retired for the night. holinshed, in the reign of elizabeth, describes the rudeness of the preceding generation in the arts of life. "there were," says he, "very few chimneys; even in the capital towns the fire was laid to the wall, and the smoke issued out at the door, roof, or window. the houses were wattled and plastered over with clay, and all the furniture and utensils were of wood." in 1639 a tax of two shillings was laid on chimneys. behind the scenes in the post office.--"how can one get admitted to the general post office, and what departments are best worth seeing there?" asks "a country cleric." admission to that remarkably interesting building, the general post office, can be had on application to the secretary. a banker's reference is necessary. the sight is one well worth seeing, and should on no account be missed by country visitors to london. visitors are admitted at six in the evening, and are shown over the telegraph department. here may be seen the pneumatic tubes, through which messages are received from many parts of london. into this office run wires from belfast, edinburgh, and all parts of the united kingdom, and the whole system is explained by an expert. crossing the road one then enters the post office itself. here one sees the "blind men," as they are called, at work deciphering illegible addresses; and men and machines stamping postmarks at the rate of from one hundred to three hundred a minute. but in order to see the post office properly, two or three visits should be made. not one person in a hundred has any notion of the peculiar experiences of a letter between the times of its postage and receipt. published on the first of every month. price one penny. the little gleaner. an illustrated monthly magazine of religious and general instruction for children. the editor seeks as much as possible to make this magazine both interesting and useful to its readers, and hopes that all true friends of the young will try to secure for it a still wider circulation. * * * * * published on the first of every month. price one penny. the sower is well adapted for general circulation, since it aims to spread abroad the pure truth of the gospel of christ. seeing how very industriously the abettors of error sow their tares, lovers of truth, with equal or greater industry, should sow that truth which is "able to make wise unto salvation, through faith which is in christ jesus." the editor earnestly solicits all who desire the spread of bible truth to help him in this work by increasing the circulation of the little gleaner and the sower. two, four, six, or more copies of the above magazines post free of the editor, 117, high street, hastings. london: houlston and sons, paternoster buildings. * * * * * friendly words. this is a little work of four pages, gleaner size, which we publish monthly, for the purpose of supplying friends with a sheet of short readings, which will suit many who do not care to read page after page of a magazine or lengthy tract. it has a front-page illustration, which renders it very attractive in general distribution. we hope our friends will spread them freely everywhere. "wherever i distribute friendly words, i find they are most heartily welcomed and eagerly read. i hope they will be widely circulated, and that the lord will make them very useful among the masses.--l. t." "i am pleased to see how eagerly friendly words are received and read where i distribute them. i only wish that all who desire the good of souls, would spread them abroad wherever they can do so.--s." will other friends kindly try this plan? they can have a good assortment at a small cost. price 1s. 6d. per 100; 3d. per dozen (assorted packets at the same price). post free from the editor, 117, high street, hastings. * * * * * the annual volumes of "gleaner" and "sower." these volumes are acknowledged to be most admirably adapted for presents, where sound and interesting books are desired. the little gleaner, boards, illustrated 1s. 6d., or six vols, for 8s. the little gleaner, cloth, do. 2s. do. 10s. the sower, cloth, do. 2s. do. 10s. sent, at above prices, post free, if ordered of the editor, mr. hull, 117, high street, hastings. * * * * * fact superior to fiction. our young people's treasury.--vols. i. and ii. these little volumes contain a collection of interesting narratives, setting forth the good old truths of the gospel, and will, we believe, help to meet a want greatly felt in our families and schools, as they supply sound scriptural reading in an interesting form, without resorting to fictitious tales. we earnestly commend them to all who seek the good of the rising race, as books which may, with the lord's blessing, be of great spiritual use among the young. price one shilling each, or eight volumes for 6s. 6d., post free, if ordered of the editor, mr. t. hull, 117, high street, hastings. index. page about swearing, 225 admiral pye and the inquisitors, 231 aged pilgrim's history, an, 183 answer of george iii. to lord grenville, 66 answers to bible enigmas, 19, 28, 59, 88, 113, 142, 174, 185, 238, 247, 271 anti-romish book, the, 273 "ask on", 203 be gentle, 28 beware of thorns, 131 bible and its claims, the 222 bible class, our, 20, 44, 67, 91, 115, 140, 163, 188, 211, 235, 260, 275 bible enigmas, 41, 66, 91, 106, 130, 165, 174, 213, 235, 255, 273 bible subjects, 11, 35, 52, 81, 117, 141, 165, 187, 214, 237, 255, 268 bible with pins in it, a, 66 biblical discovery, 29 birthday wish, 257 blind tortoise in the well, 130 blind widow, the, 266 brand plucked out of the fire, a, 228 brave rescue, a, 84 brimstone or sulphur, 256 brother's dream, a, 103 brought to the fold, 151 budding of hope, a, 51 bunyan's death, 272 caring for the little ones, 50 charcoal burner's star, the, 7, 30 charlie coulson, the drummer-boy, 170 child and the emperor, the, 259 child heroism, 232 child's prayer, a, 22 cingalese rock fortress, a, 154 clever boy and electrical machine, 114 cost of a broken sabbath, 132 counting the cost, 126 cousin susan's note-book on father chiniquy, 56, 76, 101, 152, 201 covenanter's escape and death, the, 146 day's work, a, 147 dear old times, the, 124 denied, yet answered, 251 destruction of sodom and gomorrah, 220 dirge of an englishwoman, the, 57 divine guidance, 159 divine providence, a, 99 "draw me", 83 drunkard's will, a, 233 dutch and their country, the, 209 duties of brothers and sisters, 259 edison's phonograph, 172 editor's closing address to his young friends, the, 278 editor's new year's address, 2 enemies of god and his people scattered, 40 experiences in the arctic ocean, 58 explanation, an, 278 extraordinary story of the sea, 272 facts about ocean steamships, 197 famous dog, a, 82 few words from the dumb, 108 fish that swallowed jonah, the, 246 flesh-eating plants, 83 flying foxes, 180 from darkness to light, 34 fugitive in the himalaya mountains, a, 107 generosity and love, 185 good example, a, 208 great events, 242 great exhibition of 1851, 196 heroic scotch student, a, 258 he went wrong, but he found mercy, 269 hint to boys, a, 158 hint to parents, a, 41 his title-deeds, 163 honouring the lord's day, 252 hopeful case, a, 195 hop-picking.--the last pole, 274 house on the sand, the, 173 how a great mistake was discovered, 39 how to select a boy, 153 hyacinth, the, 219 incident in the life of a barrister, 74 insecurity of palestine, 257 interesting items, 23, 47, 71, 95, 119, 143, 167, 191, 215, 239, 263, 280 "is not a man better than an egg?", 204 jesuit and the bible, the, 98 "jesus loves me!", 160 johnnie's christmas, 271 juvenile gems, 127, 148 "keep the star in sight", 65 kenilworth castle, 161 killed by lightning, 182 kindness to animals, 94 land of giants, the, 234 "let no man despise thee", 46 letter by a dying soldier, 194 lines on the new year, 5 little by little, 179 little helps by large hearts, 227 little johnnie, 255 little kindnesses, 233 little scotch granite, 218 lost and found, 122 mankind's mistakes, 222 "mary had a little lamb", 199 memoir of carrie foord, 175 memoir of ellen and henry hoad, 248 memoir of emma beesley, 110 memoir of mary stubbs, 78 model prayer-meeting, a, 184 modes of travel in persia, 75 morning's walk in a country lane, a, 63 mummy of sesostris, the, 84 nails gone, but marks left, 214 nature her own surgeon, 224 new telephone, a, 203 "nothing to thank god for", 154 old clock's advice, an, 238 old quilt and its story, an, 12 one link gone, 108 one poor stone, 62 "only once", 4 orphan bess, 198 penny piece, the, 227 pharisee and the publican, 93 pitcairn islanders and the queen, the, 261 pleading, 273 points to be aimed at, 124 postal service statistics, 223 power of kindness, 237 prayer answered, 112 precious blood of christ, the, 226 priest and the lady, the, 162 priest's thoughts of roman catholic miracles, 125 prince consort's opinion of popery, 66 prize essays, 21, 45, 69, 93, 117, 142, 165, 190, 213, 237, 262, 279 prompt kindness, 106 queer fisherman, a, 155 questions with answers, 77 ragged tom, 139 rare and costly bibles, 202 receiving the truth, 137 red sea rock, a, 161 saved by grace, 156 scotch thistle, the, 55 scripture enigma, 10 sense and senses of animals, 131 singular cause of death, 59 soft answer, a, 211 soft pillow, a, 136 something about foxes, 60 stage-coach companion, my, 16 stand back, 163 sunday school meetings:- burwash, providence, 210 clifton, 210 fleckney, carmel, 210 gower street, 138 greenwich, devonshire road, 89 hand cross, zoar chapel, 186 hastings, ebenezer, 42 trowbridge, zion, 187 sympathy, 200 talking with a man seven thousand miles off, 247 terrible experience of a shipwrecked crew, 268 "the day of small things", 36 "there is no rest in hell", 53 "this is the way; walk ye in it", 86 "thou god seest me", 86 thrilling scenes at the forth bridge works, 67 touching incident, 3 two brave children, 158 two ways of descending, 100 under the london streets, 200 unseen protection, 173 value of work, the, 75 visit to the idrian mines, 87 what a tract may do, 26 wisdom, 113 wise and foolish builders, 90 wonderful grace, 15 words and deeds, 219 word to self-seekers, a, 69 word with power, the, 226 transcriber's note: 1. punctuation has been normalized. inconsistent hyphenation and spellings have been left as printed. 2. the illustration caption on page 204 is missing text following (see- "what do you know about mr. thorn's eggs?" (see 3. page 231 "having been on a voyage to spain"--missing word "on" was added. 