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The Baldwin Library
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A. F R END IN NEED.
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A TALE F(
. T. NELSON AND
LONDON, EDINB B AJ;N DI
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HOW THE SUNSHINE CAME INTO IT.
,A Vale for the Igoung.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
"KING JACK OF HAYLANDS," "S USY'S FLOWERS," &c.
LO ND 0 N:
AND SONS, PATERNOSTER
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
THE CLOUDS ARISE, ... ...
HOW MARTHA RULED, ... ... ...
" A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED,"
EDDY IN MISCHIEF, ... .......
" A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH,"
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT, ...
THE DAY OF TROUBLE, ... ..
6 CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN, "o
" Do to-day's duty-look not on,
Work while there's strength and light;
The day's toil is enough to bear,
And then there cometh night.
" Enough that He in whom you live
Is with you if you fail,
And giveth help, ana hope, and heart,
And patience to prevail."
Thoughts in Verse for the Hardworking
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
Think of the happy dead,
Gone to their Sabbath rest,
The burden of their life laid down,
Now and for ever blest."
Thoughts in Verse.
R. GLEGSON was a rich mer-
chant, and his house was one of
those pretty suburban villas which
abound in the neighbourhood of
most of our mercantile towns.
Mrs. Glegson was 'entertaining
company in the drawing-room; her children
were amusing themselves in their spacious
play-room; and in her kitchen an animated
conversation was being carried on between
8 THE CLOUDS ARISE.
her cook and kitchen-maid, the latter
whom she had
"Mrs. Burke," said Martha, looking up
from the duster she was hemming, I don't
IN THE KITCHEN.
see why a girl shouldn't try to better herself,
if she can."
"Nor do I." replied the cook, who
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
making pastry; "but I don't think girls do
better themselves by changing their places
continually. What makes you dissatisfied
here, Maptha ?"
"I'm not dissatisfied; only, I think I
should like to be something above a kitchen-
maid," she answered hesitatingly.
"I suppose you think yourself too good
for that kind of work ?" said Mrs. Burke
"Not exactly that; but I should like to
have higher wages, and-"
And what ? Speak out, Martha."
You have always been kind to me, Mrs.
"But you don't like being under any one
-that's the truth. Now, Martha Wilson;
listen to me. I know we can't put old heads
on young shoulders, but believe the words
of a woman old enough to be your mother;
it's a safer and easier thing, by far, to be
ruled than to rule."
Martha said something under her breath
about obeying a mistress being a different
Mrs. Burke was much too good-natured
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
to take offence; she quite understood her
feelings, and only answered quietly,-
"Well, Martha, my mother was a sensible
woman, and when I was first- going out to
service, she said she would rather I went as
kitchen-maid than anything else; because,
she said, the feeling of an eye being con-
stantly upon me in the kitchen, would do
me more good than to receive orders from a
mistress who could not stand by to see them
carried out. No, no, Martha; I say, happy
those who are under some one."
Well, Mrs. Burke, I don't think so. I
know many people have got to be under
others, but, for my own part, I'd rather
"Good Mrs. Burke shook her head, and
went on rolling out her paste in silence for
a few minutes; then she said,-
"Martha, my girl, I hope you will not
know for a long time what it is to have no
one to give you orders. God means our
whole life- to teach us how to obey; and he
puts others over us that,, by practising
obedience to them, we, may learn to do his
will in all things."
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
There was something very earnest in the
way in which Mrs. Burke always spoke of
religion; it was as if her whole heart was in
what she said.
"Martha, some one wants to speak to
you at the back-door," said Anne, the house-
maid, entering the kitchen at this moment;
and Martha laid her work down hastily and
the door, where a ragged boy of
twelve years of age was standing.
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
I's come after you, Martha, for mother's
a-dying," were his only words.
The colour faded from Martha's cheeks,
and she leaned against the door for support;
she could hardly speak, but grasping her
little brother's hand, she managed to say,-
0 Dick! not dying ? tell me she's not
I tell you she be.; and if you don't look
sharp you won't see her alive. Don't get
so white; put on your bonnet, and come
It was the work of air-instant with
Martha to return to .the kitchen and tell
the sad news to the' cook; then, wrapping
her shawl around her, and tying on her
bonnet, she hurried away with her brother.
How long the minutes seemed as they
walked through the muddy streets, until
they came to the narrow court in which was
situated Martha's home. But they were
there at last, and she opened the door, and
entered the room which served as kitchen
There was a cry from all the children,
who were huddled together on the floor; but
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
Martha heeded them not, she was thinking
only of her who was -lying in the inner
chamber. Was she in time ? Would she
get one smile, one blessing, from the being
whom she loved best on earth ? Yes; as
she bent over the bed, and put her face close
to that of her dying mother, she could catch
the whispered words,--
"I'm very happy now, Martha; I know
I'm forgiven for Christ's sake -" Martha
pressed her lips on the forehead upon which
the cold dews of death were gathering,
though she could not speak for crying; but
her mother spoke again,-
"Be a good girl to father, Martha; he'll
want some one to keep things straight.
God bless you, child." These were her last
words, and ere an hour had elapsed she was
Martha went round to the other side of
the bed, and knelt down beside her father,
who. was seated there with his head buried
in his hands.
"Father," she whispered, "dear father, I
will be a good daughter to you."
The man took no notice, except to mutter
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
f~ if (/ (AM 7~I~ -
THE FATHER'S GRIEF.
kinder to you.
Has she b
, Sally, I might,
God forgive me!
went about her work the same
I didn't know how bad she
suffer much? "
"Look at her face and you
plied the man gruffly.
the still, white
those deep lines and
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
upon the forehead, those sunken features, and
that calm, settled look of pain about the
mouth, told the old tale of a lingering death,
brought on by anxiety, poverty, and want,"
coming upon a frame exhausted and worn
out with unceasing toil,-that death which
removes so many from the battle-field of
life, where they have struggled on bravely
for the sake of the dear ones around them.
"Ay," said the father more kindly, "I
hope you may never have to bear as much,
my girl; come in now, and get some tea."
Martha knew that it would do him good
to bring him out of that room, so she fol-
lowed him into the other.
Coming from a gentleman's house, where
she had been accustomed to see everything
neat, clean, and comfortable, it was a strange
sight that met her eyes.
A smouldering fire lighted the grate; but
it could hardly be said to give warmth to
the room. A rickety table stood in the
centre, and some broken chairs were scat-
tered about in various directions. There
was no carpet on the dirty floor, which was
covered with rubbish; the paper hung in
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
shreds on the wall; the cupboard door was
open, and the contents plainly visible,-some
cracked and dirty plates and dishes, and a
few broken crusts of bread in a brown dish.
It certainly looked very dreary and un-
inviting; but Martha was too sad to think
much about it, only she felt her heart sink
within her, and the weight upon it became
heavier than before. How could she give
ufp a comfortable place, to settle down in this
miserable room? But she had not much
time for thinking about it, for 'the children
clamoured round her, all delighted at the
novelty of having her amongst them again.
"What a pretty frock you've got on,
Martha," they exclaimed; for her clean
cotton dress was a great contrast to their
own ragged ones.
Hush, dears; don't talk of that now;
do you know that God has taken mother up
to heaven ?" and Martha took little Willie,
the youngest child, on her lap and hid her
face on his shoulder.'
"Up to heaven! is that the happy place,
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
Who'll do for us now? asked Dick,
bending over a stick which he was cutting,
that no one might see the tears which filled
"Martha will," replied his father, who
had not spoken before.
"Yes Martha will," repeated little
Willie, nestling closer to her.
"Well, I hope Martha will get this place
a bit more comfortable, for it hasn't been so
since poor mother got bad," said Ben, the
"And get me some new shoes," said
Lucy, a girl of eleven, looking down at
those which hardly covered her feet, and
,were full of holes. "I can go back to the
factory now, can't I, father ? Martha will
do the work."
"Yes," said her father; you may go
back as soon as you like."
How many of you work in the fac-
tory ?" asked Martha.
Only Dick and I," answered Lucy.
"And what does Ben do ?"
"Oh, I'm errand-boy at- Smith's," replied
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
V *' >
And Willie stays at home ?"
"Yes; and Eddy too."
Ah, yes, I forgot Eddy. Where is he ?"
"I don't know; he was here a minute
ago. But he's so sulky and cross, we like
his room better than his company," said
"Poor Eddy!" and Martha sighed as she
thought of the little cripple, who had been
loved best of all by the mother who was
Bed-tiime soon came; and before she
went up to the garret which she was to
share with Lucy, Martha went into her
She opened the door noiselessly and crept
in; but some one was there before her, for
the moonlight, which streamed in at the
window, fell on the face of the dead and on
that of her little crippled brother Eddy.
The boy did not hear her light footstep, nor
did he raise his head, which was resting on
the bed. He was crying bitterly, and
Martha was so frightened at the violence of
his grief, that she could not speak to him.
At last she heard him say something in a
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
low, broken voice, as he raised the cold
hand which lay beside him. Mother 0
mother, speak to me! Tell me you'll not
go away Oh, I will be good! If you
leave me, ,I shall have nobody to love me!"
He paused for an answer; and then receiv-
ing none, he said again, in a voice of sorrow
which pierced Martha's heart, Mother,
dear mother, do speak to me!" Martha
went up quietly to him, and laying her
hand gently on his shoulder, she whispered,
The little boy raised his face. Oh, how
white and wan it was!
"Eddy, mother is in heaven now; she
cannot hear you speak to her."
Oh, she must hear me. She always
listened to me before."
"But she can't now, Eddy, because God
has taken her away."
"And will she never come back ?"
'No; but if you ask the Lord Jesus
Christ, he will take you to be with her
"But there is no one to love me now."
I will, Eddy;" and she drew him ten-
AIZ/ f~ __
MARTHA AND EDDY.
derly into her arms, and kissed him almost
as fondly as his mother had done. Eddy
looked up. into her
and there seemed
to be something there which he could trust,
THE CLOUDS ARISE.
for -by degrees his sobs became less violent;
and bidding his sister good-night quietly,
he went up to his bed.
Both the brother and sister cried them-
selves to sleep that night.
HOW MARTHA RULED.
"Who seeks in weakness an excuse,
His sins will vanquish never."
ARTHA gave up her situation, and
with a brave heart began her
home duties. Her father put
everything under her care; and
her head was full of the changes
which she would make in those
dingy and uncomfortable rooms, and how
she would be as good a daughter and as
good a sister as even her dying mother could
She thought how pleasant it would be
to control the rest of the family--how she
would labour and toil for them--and how
they would look up to her, and be grateful
for all her trouble.
HOW MARTHA RULED.
"Yes,. mother," she would sometimes
whisper, as she lay awake hour after hour,
thinking over her plans, I can never fill
your place, but I will do my best not to let
the children feel your loss."
But to rule was not so easy as poor
Martha had imagined; and a day spent in
her home, six months after her- mother's
death, will show us this.
Wearied out, she had gone to bed at a
late hour; and, still weary, she awoke in the
morning. The daylight was streaming into
her room; and as she heard a neighbour-
ing clock strike, she sprang from her bed,
frightened to think how long she had slept,
dressed herself anyhow, and administering a
hearty shake to Lucy, who was still sleeping,
hurried down-stairs. There was a time
when she would not have left her room
without kneeling down to implore her hea-
venly Father's care and direction throughout
the day; but now she never thought of this,
-" she had too much to do."
Her father, with an angry frown upon his
forehead, was kneeling by the fire, which he
was endeavouring to light.
HOW MARTHA RULED.
"Late again, Martha: Time w
my breakfast was ready for me at
time, but now things are changed."
LIGHTING THE FIRE.
Martha took no notice of this speech,
except muttering something to herself which
could not be heard.
"Come and light this fire," said David
Wilson, getting -up; "the sticks are damp."
Martha knelt down by the grate, and
succeeded in raising a flame; but the room
quickly filled with smoke..
HOW MARTHA RULED.
The children came tumbling in one after
another, not one of them looking half-awake,
and all only half-washed and dressed.
"No breakfast ready ?" said Ben; "and
it's time for me to be off. It's too bad."
Martha hastily put a dirty cloth on the
table, and laid the remains of a loaf of bread
and some salt butter upon it.
"The kettle will boil presently, Ben."
Oh yes! .it's always presently," replied
the boy, cutting a large slice of bread.
"What are you crying for, Eddy ?" asked
Martha, looking up, as the cripple came in
Dick hit me," whimpered the little boy.
You're always making a fuss about some-
thing," said the sister crossly.
Eddy checked the sobs which were rising
in his throat, and with a sullen look sat
down by the table; but lie did not taste
Willie ran in saying that he was cold;
and, indeed, his ragged little frock did not
look as if it had much power of keeping
"Why don't you dress that poor child
26 HOW MARTHA RULED.
in something warmer, Martha ?" said the
father, looking with pity at his favourite
You know as well as I do that we have
got no money to do it," replied Martha
"I know that there would be plenty if
you managed properly.".
Martha's face grew darker; and she mut-
tered, "I wish I had left you all to manage
for yourselves. I was well enough off before
I came here. Willie, keep your hands off
the loaf, will you!"
Her father then desired her to put up his
dinner for him, for he was not able to come
back in the middle of the day, as he was
engaged as a porter in one of the large ware-
houses in the city.
Martha cut two or three thick slices of
bread, and brought out of the cupboard
some -dry cheese, which she folded up in a
piece of newspaper.
"Your poor mother used to give me a
change sometimes-either some slices of
bacon or bits of meat. I get tired of cheese
every day," said her father.
HOW MARTHA RULED.
PUTTING UP THE DINNER.
"I've not got money to buy either bacon
or any other meat," said Martha again; but
her father had left the room before she had
finished her sentence.
As soon as the children had gone off to.
their work, Martha sat down in the untidy,
undusted, and smoky room, to patch a coat
HOW MARTHA RULED.
Eddy and Willie were quarrelling at the
far end of the room.
"Eddy," cried Martha,' what are you
"Nothing," replied the little boy.
"Don't make such a noise then."
They were quieter for a moment or two.
Then they began again, and a scream from
Willie drew Martha's attention. She got
up from her work, went over to them, boxed
their ears, and with a rough shake sent them
both out of the room.
In a few minutes they were at play in
the street, with all those other ragged and
forlorn little urchinswho are turned out
there by women who are either too lazy or
too busy to attend to them. If Martha
could have known that Eddy was learning
to pilfer and tell lies, and that Willie's baby
lips were framing themselves to utter oaths
that would have shocked her ears had she
heard them, she would not have thus care-
lessly thrust them into the way of tempta-
tion; but she was too busy to think of this.
She had her wish fulfilled now; she had
no one to obey. But her life was not what
HOW MARTHA RULED.
she had fancied it would be. The burden
was heavier than she could bear, and she
would gladly have laid it down.
As the last sound of the little boys' foot-
steps died away, Martha's head was bowed
on her hands, and one or two long deep sighs
broke the silence of the room. She did not
cry-she seldom did so now; but her mind
was full of bitter thoughts. Why was all
her young life to. be ground down in this
way ? Why was there none of the bright-
ness and joyousness of girlhood in her lot ?
Why was she to be blamed, and scolded, and
unloved, while others were petted and given
all they could desire ? It was very, very
hard. And then she raised her head again,
and her fingers moved rapidly over her work.
Twelve o'clock came, and the children
assembled for their dinner. Martha got out
the loaf and some cold potatoes, which was
all that there was for them.
Dick and Lucy came in; a few grumbling
words about the uncomfortable state of the
room passed, and Martha's heart was heavier
JOW MARTHA RULED.
As soon as she was alone again, she went
into her mother's room, and opened a drawer
in, which she had laid all the articles of dress
which belonged to her. Alas! they were
very few, and much the worse for wear; but
there was one gown which was tolerably
respectable, and Martha unfolded it, and
looked at it long and sorrowfully; then,
rolling it into a small bundle, she put on her
bonnet and shawl, and hurried down the
street until she reached a shop, which she
entered. A few minutes after, she came out,
with flushed cheeks and a quick step, holding
something tightly in her hand.
"There goes Martha Wilson," said one
of the neighbours; "so she's come to it at
last, with all her fine ways when she came
Come to what ?" asked the friend, who
had looked in for a few minutes' gossip, with
her :baby in her arms.
"To what you and I came to long ago,
neighbour," replied the woman, with a bitter
smile; "the pawnbroker's shop."
The other sighed. It's a bad place; and
it's like taking spirits, I always think: it
HOW MARTHA RULED.
seems to brighten one up a bit at the time,
and then leaves one worse than before."
Poor Mrs. Wilson, she's a sad miss to
"Yes; it goes to my heart to see them
going about in rags; and that little Willie,
he looks so miserable, and swears as badly
as any man in the court."
"It's hard work for that poor girl; ay,
it's a hard life for many of us poor folk.
God knows we've a weary time of it, and
few to care-but I must go, neighbour."
Meanwhile Martha was disposing of the
money she had got; a few red herrings-a
loaf of bread, and some candles soon ran
axay with it all, but Martha gave no thought
to the morrow,-she was content that there
would be some supper for her father when
he came in, and that she would escape any
rough words for that night.
An evening passed in darning Willie's
frock, in scolding the children, and in sigh-
ing over the hardness of her lot, ended the
day, which was only one of the many that
were spent in Martha's home. It was no
wonder that as the tired girl laid her head
HOW MARTHA RULED.
on her pillow she said to
always last ? am I never
happiness'? Things seem
day, and I don't know
mother mother !"
herself, Must it
to have any more
to get worse every
what to do! 0
"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."
"A man, who on his journey home
Has taken the wrong way,
Does not persist in going on
The wrong road all the day.
"He turns right round, however steep
The homeward path may be;
And keeps on steadfast to the end,-
And a wise man is he."
Thoughts in Verse.
" DDY, why do you stay moping up
here ? go off and play with Willie,"
said Martha, one day, as she
noticed the cripple leaning against
the window, and gazing through
the dirty panes of glass.
"I don't want to go out in the street,"
replied the little boy, without looking round.
"Well, I can't have you here; I am
going to sweep the room."
84 A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."
Eddy did not move. Martha took no
more notice for a few moments, and then
said sharply, "Eddy, be off !" But still he
did not go.
At. last his sister went over to him, shook
him roughly, and opening the door, she
pushed him out.
(0 Martha! Martha! why did you not
find something for him to do, and put him
in the next room, until you had done sweep-
ing ? You little know how bitterly you will
"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED." '35
repent your hastiness-you cannot see the
look of anger and pain which is passing over
the boy's face-you cannot hear his muttered
words, -" Well, then, I don't care now; I'll
go and do it,"-and you do not know that
Joe Sparks, the worst boy in the court, is
waiting and watching for him. But a little
patience on your part might have saved him!)
Martha began sweeping. The dust flew
about in every direction, and she tried to
open the window; but it had stuck fast, and
the consequence was that the dust only-
changed its position instead of being dis-
She was interrupted in her employment
by hearing a knock at her door, and on
turning her head round, her eyes met those
of her friend Mrs. Burke.
"Does Martha Wilson live in this house?"
she said, as she advanced-into the room.
"Mrs. Burke !-yes, here I am," and
Martha threw down her broom, and hurried-
over to her.
You Martha Wilson ?" said Mrs. Burke,
looking with astonishment at the figure
before her; "I can't believe it!"
36 "A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."
"I daresay not," said Martha sorrowfully,
as her eyes dropped beneath the gaze of her
friend; I am changed since you saw me
last; and with the corner of her ragged
apron she began dusting a chair for her
visitor, and invited her to sit down.
Mrs. Burke did so in silence, and she did
not speak for some -time. Her quick eyes
glanced round the room, and seemed to take
in the state of everything in an instant. At
last she said, rather sharply,-
"You were sweeping, Martha, weren't
-you ? "
"Yes, Mrs. Burke; but it doesn't matter."
"That dust that you've been raising is all
settling again upon the chairs and tables.
Hadn't you better open the window?"
"It has stuck," said Martha, as she
hastily tried to close the cupboard door,
which had no fastening; but her attempt
was useless, and the contents were more
plainly visible than before.
Mrs. Burke went over to the window,
and succeeded at last in forcing it open. In
came the pleasant fresh air, which was so
seldom admitted to that gloomy room.
"CA FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED." 37
The good woman drew a long breath of
satisfaction as she felt the cool breeze
against her cheek, and then she turned to
Well, my girl, and how have you been
getting on ?"
Martha's only answer was an ashamed
glance at her dirty and ragged dress, and at
the state of the room.
Mrs. Burke laid her hand upon the young
girl's, and said quietly,-
"You've been having a hard time of it,
Martha ? "
Martha turned her face away and replied,
"And you've had nobody to help you ?"
"No; I didn't want any one."
Mrs. Burke knew that this was not true,
for one glance at the girl's tired and care-
worn face told her how the case stood.
Poor child," she said kindly.
The words were so gently spoken that
they quite overcame the pride in which
Martha had wrapped herself, and she laid
her head down on the table, and fairly
sobbed aloud. 0 Mrs. Burke, indeed I
88 "A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."
have tried to keep everything right; but it's
no good, and I'm not .going to try any
"You are not happy, Martha ?"
"No; indeed I'm not. Father's always
cross with me,, and he says I waste the
money, and that I can't do anything; and
the children hate me."
"Nonsense, child; don't talk like that.
There is a bright side to almost everything,
so now let's look for the bright side of your
troubles. Are things so bad that they
couldn't be worse, Martha ? "
"No; I don't think they could be."
"Supposing your father had no work,
and that none of your brothers could earn
anything, wouldn't that be worse ? Or if
you were in bad health, or some of the
children were ill, what would you do then ?
-0 Martha! you have some things to be
But in answer to this Martha poured out
such a list of troubles, that Mrs. Burke
hardly knew where to begin to set them to
"This room is not so bad as you make
"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED." 39
out, Martha-it is a good size, and gets the
morning sun-if it were but clean, and well
aired. Do keep the windows open; you
don't know how much the fresh air helps to
make a room healthy and cheerful."
"But I can't get the room clean, Mrs.
"Have you tried, my dear ? ''
"Yes; I have tried to do everything."
Mrs. Burke paused for a minute, and
then said earnestly, "Mai'tha, have you
asked your. Father in heaven to help you to
do your work rightly ?"
"I used to ask him," replied Martha,
looking down uneasily.
"But do you ask him every day ;-did
you ask him this morning ?"
"Or yesterday ?"
"Or all last week, or the week before ?"
Martha shook her head.
Then, my dear, you cannot expect to
get on right. Will you let me be your
friend and try to help you, Martha ?"
40 "CA FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."
"A FRIEND IN NEED."
"Well, then, promise that you won't let
this day pass without going to him, telling
him all the care and trouble you have, and
asking him to teach you how to do his will
"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED." 41
in every act of your daily life. Martha, he
is the only friend you can lean upon for help
"But it's such a long time since I said
"Never mind that, it's all the more reason
you should do so now. Tell him that as
well as the rest, and ask him to forgive
you for your Saviour's sake."
Martha leaned her head upon her hands
for a few minutes, and then looking up with
a brighter face, she said heartily,-
"I will do it, Mrs. Burke; and now
please tell me what I can do-to this room."
"Well, Martha," replied her friend, smil-
ing, "don't, sweep it with the window and
doors shut up; I think you could .scrub it
thoroughly,-couldn't you?-and wash the
walls, and sweep the cobwebs off the ceiling;
none of that is very hard, is it ?
"No, but the chimney, smokes."
"Well, I think I can get that cured for
Thank you; but the furniture is so bad,
I don't know how to make it look neat."
Mrs. Burke was almost inclined to say
42 A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."
that she did. not either, but, after a few
minutes' consideration, she replied,-
"Don't you think that you could coax
one of your brothers to do some little bits
of carpentering for you ? For instance, to
mend that cupboard-door-it only wants a
little fastening put on it; and I'm sure your
food would be kept much cleaner, if the
dust and ashes and smoke didn't get to it.
And then, Martha, as I'm an old friend you
won't mind my saying that one thing which
would make your room look much better
would be, if you could manage to keep clean
and tidy yourself."
"Yes, Mrs. Burke, I know that. Father
used to say he didn't mind how plain his
supper was, when he saw me looking tidy.
But all my nice frocks got worn out, and I
cut up some for the children, and I had no
money to get more, and by degrees I left
off caring whether I was tidy or clean; 1
had no time to think about that."
"But you must try to think about it,
Martha, and I will help you. My husband
and I have left service, and have set up a
baker's business in Temple Street, close to
"~A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED." 43
you, so I can see you often. We have
talked enough to-day, and you won't forget
what I've said; so now, good-bye. Mend
that great tear in your frock, make your
hair neat, and clean yourself before your
father comes home; and get something for
supper with this," and she slipped a small
coin into Martha's hand, and kissing her
warmly on both cheeks, went away.
God will reward you, honest Mrs. Burke,
for the work of love which you have been
doing in Martha's home; you have been
fulfilling his own injunction, "We, then,
that are strong, ought to bear the infirmi-
ties of the weak, and not to please our-
selves..... for even Christ pleased not him-
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
Pilfer not the smallest thing-
Touch it not, however thou need it;
Though the owner have enough,
Though he know it not, nor need it.
Upright heart, and honest name,
To the poorest are a treasure;
Better than ill-gotten wealth,
Better far than pomp or pleasure."
Hymns for Little Children.
A ND where was Eddy all this time ?
Sorrowfully and slowly the little
cripple had left the house and limped
down the court, occasionally lifting
his hand to his eyes to wipe away
the tears which dimmed them.
Willie was playing at pitch-and-toss with
some other little urchins as ragged and dirty
as himself; and as Eddy seated himself on
the step of a neighbour's door, he heard a
EDDY IN MISCHIEF. 45
fearful oath come from his little brother's
lips; but the lame boy was too well accus-
tomed to this kind of language to take
much notice of it. He had not been sit-
ting there long before he was joined by Joe
Sparks, a boy about two years older than
himself, who was dressed very shabbily, and
had a most mean and cunning expression in
"Oh! there you are, Ted; I's been watch.
ing this long time for you."
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
"What do. you want ?" asked Eddy
"Do you forget what you promised to do,
lad ?" inquired Joe.
Eddy looked down uneasily, and then
replied, "Joe, I'd rather not do it."
"Nonsense," said Joe; "what has made
you turn chicken-hearted? I did not think
you such a fool."
"I'm afraid it's bad work, and we're sure
to be found out."
"Not a bit of it."
"Why won't you do it, Joe ? You know
you could get away so much quicker than
Well, Ted, don't you see, the magistrates
they knows me of old, and their worships
told me last time, that when they had the
pleasure of seeing me again before them,
they'd give me two years in the reformatory;
and I happens to prefer living at large just
"But if it's so bad, I don't think we
ought to go and do it, Joe."
Stuff," said Joe impatiently; "but, if
you're such a coward, I'll get another chap
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
to come. I thought you'd' like a few coppers
"So I should," said little Eddy wistfully.
"Well, come along then. I saw old
Sykes this morning, and he has promised to
buy whatever we can get. Now, you know
what you're to do. I'll go into the yard and
speak to the men, and you must lay hands
on all the long nails and pieces of tin which
you can-get--the more the better."
All this time they had been walking
slowly down the street, but suddenly Eddy
looked up in Joe's face, and said,-
Joe, won't it make God angry if we
steal; won't he send us to hell ?"
Joe started, for one instant he paused-a
frightened, almost terrified look came over
his countenance, and seizing Eddy's arm, he
muttered, "He don't watch such little chaps
as we, does he ?"
"Mother said he watched us all."
Joe stood in silence for a few moments,
then, with an uneasy laugh, he saih[ roughly,.
" Donit talk such rubbish; come along;
have you turned good ? You're afraid of
the peeler, that's it."
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
I'm not," said Eddy, though his heart
inwardly quaked, and his face became paler
than usual at the thought of the dangerous
risk he was about to run. But now they
had reached the end of the long alley, and
in another moment they had? turned the
corner and were out of sight.
Meanwhile, Martha had mended the great
rent in her dress after a fashion, had made
herself neater than she had been for many a
long day, had swept up the ashes in the
grate, and had dusted the table. This all
took some time, and when it was done, she
put on her bonnet and shawl and went out
to get her father's supper.
As she walked along, she thought how
she could most judiciously spend the shilling
which Mrs. Burke had given her. "Red
herrings ? no! they make us thirsty, and I
don't think they are very nourishing; a small
bit of meat and a loaf, that'll be best. I have
heard say a very small quantity of meat goes
further towards nourishment than anything
else ;" and having got what she wanted, she
turned her steps homeward, with a lighter
heart and a brighter face than she had had
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
since her mother's death. Humbled she felt,
indeed, when she remembered how imper-
fectly she had performed her home work; but
yet there seemed to be a light dawning in
the future. She would seek for strength
where she knew it was to be found-she
would cast her burden on the Lord, and ask
him to bear it for her; and these resolutions
brought back the hope which had nearly
died out in her heart. She looked up from
the noisy bustling street into the calm blue
sky above Jler, and thanked God that she
still had the opportunity of doing some-
thing to brighten her home; whispering
a prayer that he would forgive her the
past for her. Saviour's sake, and help her
for the time to come; and there came into
her mind a verse which she had heard long
ago: "I the Lord thy God will hold thy
right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not, I
will help thee."
But her happy thoughts were inter-
rupted as she saw a crowd of people coming
down the street, and she shrunk from get-
ting into it.
"What is the matter ? she asked of two
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
women, who were standing by a doorway
"They. say it's the police taking. some
chaps to the lock-up."
"Poor fellows," said Martha; but she felt
that if there were policemen near she would
be quite safe in going on. And she was
doing so, hardly raising her eyes from the
ground, when a bitter cry fell on her ear,
and she heard her own name uttered in the
most piercing accents.
"0 Martha, Martha, save me!"
She looked up, and saw her little crippled
brother being led by one policeman, while
another followed dragging Joe Sparks, who
was making violent efforts to escape.
Martha's face became deadly pale, and
she trembled from head to foot. Eddy,
Eddy!" she cried, forcing her way through
the crowd to his side.
"Out of the way, young woman; you
must not stop the prisoner," said the police-
But it's Eddy, it's my own brother. Oh,
there is some mistake, indeed there is!"
"No mistake in the fact that I found
________ fl~ Ii
~l~iI1IIiI liii I! nfl
- r4 A
EDDY TAKEN PRISONER.
these young chaps stealing nails and tin, and
so I'm taking them to the lock-up."
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
"Oh, it cannot be true. Eddy, speak;
tell me it isn't true!"
He burst into tears. "It is true; but I'll
never do it again."
"There, now, get out of the way, young
woman; you've got your answer."
Martha covered her eyes, and turned
mournfully away; but when Eddy saw her
going, he stretched out his hand, seized her
dress, and cried bitterly and imploringly:
" If you hadn't made me go out, I shouldn't
have stole. Oh, do not leave me now!-
save me, save me, Martha!"
But the policeman snatched his hand
away, pushed Martha aside, and pulled his
The sight seemed to leave the poor girl's
eyes, everything swam before her, and she
staggered on for a few steps, vainly holding
out her hands towards. Eddy, as her little
brother's bitter cry again fell upon her
ears .; but she would have fallen to the
ground had not an elderly man stepped
through the crowd, and bidding her lean on
him, supported her to his shop, which was
EDDY IN MISCHIEF.
"Why, it's Martha!" said a kind voice
by her side as she entered;. and crying out,
"Eddy, 0 my brother!" she fell insensible
into the arms of Mrs. Burke.
SA SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH."
"Forget not thou hast often sinned,
And sinful yet must be;
Deal gently with the erring one,
As God has dealt with thee."
HEN Martha came to herself, she
found that she was lying in the
little parlour at the back of Mrs.
Burke's shop; while the kind-
hearted woman was bathing her
face with vinegar.
A dim sense of misery crept over the
poor girl as she regained recollection, and
at last the dreadful scene which she had
.witnessed a few minutes before came back
upon her in vivid reality.
"Save him! oh, save him!" she faintly
"A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH." 55
I cannot do so yet, my dear," answered
Mrs. Burke kindly. He will be tried at
the police-court. to-morrow, and then we
will see what we can do; but to-night he
must sleep in the lock-up, and it will do him
Oh, he is so weak and so sickly, 'it may
kill him; and it was all my fault-all
"What do you mean, child?" said Mrs.
Burke, gently forcing her back into the
chair from which she had sprung in her
Oh, he said it, and it is quite true."
What is true ?"
"He wanted to stay at home with me
this morning, and I made him go out into
the street; and if I hadn't, he wouldn't
have met that wicked Joe. What shall I
do ? "
"You can't do anything now, my dear,
except to bear it patiently. You will never
forget it, and I think it will be a lesson for
your little brother-perhaps the turning-
point in his life. Rest now, Martha, and
we will do all we can for him to-morrow."
56 "A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH."
"May I go to the court-house in the
"Better not," said Mr. Burke, who had
stepped in from the shop. I will go; but
it is not a nice place for young girls, and you
could do no good. Depend on it, I will let
you know about him as soon as possible."
And with this promise poor Martha was
obliged to be content.
She was better now, and thought she
would rather go home; so Mrs. Burke ac-
companied her, and as she parted from
her at her own door, she said kindly, ",Take
this trouble where you promised to take the
others, even to Him who never sent a weary
or heavy-laden one away uncomforted."
Martha only bowed her head in reply, but
she did what her friend advised; and then,
having left her burden with the Lord, she
set about her work with a lightened heart,
though she very much dreaded her father's
return. But he had heard the sad news on
.his way home, from some of those. busy-
bodies who are to be found in courts and
alleys as well as in squares and terraces,
always ready to talk about matters which
A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH." 57
do not concern them, and which they gene-
rally make worse by repetition.
What is this, Martha ?" he said sternly,
as he entered the room, and saw the pale
face and swollen eyelids of his daughter;
"what's all this about Eddy ?"
"0 father, father, don't be angry; Eddy
has been taking something that wasn't his,
and the police have carried him off to the
lock-up; but he is so young! Don't be
angry, father. Mr. Burke-that's the new -
baker in Temple Street-says he will go to
the police-court to-morrow, and get him off
if he can. Father, don't look like that;
But David Wilson's anger was roused.
Poor though he was, he was scrupulously
honest, and the thought of the disgrace
brought upon his name and character by
this behaviour of his son caused him to
vent his displeasure upon the first person
who came near him.
. "The young rascal !-but he shall rue it
-he. shan't come in here again, or if he
does, I'll break every bone in his body."
"0 father, father," cried Martha, in an
58 "A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH."
agony coming up to him, "don't 'say that.
It was my fault. I sent him out, I would
not let him stop in with me--1 put him in
the way of temptation," and she looked into
-his face imploringly.
"You did, did you ?" and his angry eyes
almost terrified her, but still she answered
'"Yes, I did."
David Wilson paused for an instant, and
then his anger turned on his daughter.
Alack for the day that your mother
died! Nothing has gone right since-the
house has gone to rack and ruin; you're
cross to the children and lead them into all
that is wrong; you spend all the money you
can, and we never see the good of it; and
everything is as dirty as it can be. But
there shall be a change; things shan't last
like this," and he struck his hand violently
on the table.
The day before Martha would have an-
swered passionately, but now she was too
saddened and humbled to do so; she merely
bowed her head upon her hands, rested them
on the table, and her slight frame shook
"A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH."
T11 E FATHERi1'S AN UEi,.
with the violence of her sobs. Her father's
heart was softened. If she had spoken an-
grily in reply, he would have been provoked
to say more; but the meek acquiescence of
the words which she uttered amidst her tears,
"Yes, father, it is all true-quite true, but
it shall not be so long, -I am going to try,"
touched him; and after watching her for a
60 "A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH."
few moments, he said, "I've been hard upon
you, child; I was hard upon her too, but she
asked me not to be so on the children," and
he laid his hand on hers.
She raised her tearful face for an instant,
and said eagerly, "Father, I don't mind
what you say to me, I deserve it all; but
forgive him, forgive Eddy, he is so weak and
"But for my son to be a thief!"
A sudden thought darted into Martha's
mind, and putting her hand on his arm,
she said in a low, earnest voice, "He was
mother's son too, and her pet."
Her father started. "It's true; yes,
Martha, it's true; and, for her sake, the boy
shall be forgiven."
And you'll be kind to him, and not let
the others plague him ?"
"Yes, I will. Now, go and get me my
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
"Think kindly of the erring;
Oh, do not thou forget,
However darkly stained by sin,
He is thy brother yet.
Oh, kindly help the erring!
Thou yet mayst lead him back,
With gracious words, and tones of love,
From misery's thorny track."
RS. BURKE came over early in
Sthe morning to let Martha know
that her husband was going to
the court-house; and knowing
that employment was the best
means of settling the girl's mind,
she told her of various things which she
might do towards improving the state of
the room, and the first of these was scrub-
bing the floor, for which purpose the good
woman opened a basket which hung upon
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT 'IA OF IT.
her arm, and took out of it a new scrubbing
brush, as she thought it possible that
Martha might not have one at hand; and
then, having set the girl to work, she went
back to keep the shop during her hus-
band's absence, taking little Willie with
her to keep him out of harm's way; and the
child was in no small degree delighted
when he was seated on a high chair by Mrs.
Burke's table pasting paper-bags for her.
Martha was very busy all .the morning,
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 63
but still she could not help looking Up
anxiously every few minutes to see if there
were any signs of Mr. Burke. The 'floor
looked clean, the air was fresh and -pure,
the cupboard door was mended, and the
cobwebs were swept off the ceiling; these
were the first steps towards improvement,
and Martha surveyed them with great satis-
faction. She had just put some plates on
the table, and got out something for the
children's dinner, when she heard footsteps
at the door;, and Mr. Burke entered followed
by little Eddy.
The boy's head was bent very low, so
that his sister could not see his face, and he
walked over to the window and stood look-
ing out of it.
"There he is, Martha," said the good-
natured baker. *" They've let him off with
a-caution as it's his first offence, and in con-
sideration of his youth and weakness; and
I think and hope that it will be his last."
"Thank you. Oh, I can't tell you how
from my heart I thank you for your good-
ness, Mr. Burke," said poor Martha, grasp-
ing his hand, but unable to say more.
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
EDDY BROUGHT HOME.
He shook it heartily, and then muttering
something about his wife wanting him, he
hastily left the house. Somehow his eyes
felt very dim for a few minutes afterwards;
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 66
he would not have acknowledged how much
he felt the forlorn condition of the little
cripple boy, or the simple gratitude of the
Martha looked anxiously towards her
brother after Mr. Burke left the room, but
he kept his face pressed against the glass,
and would not look round.
She went over to him and touched his
shoulder, but still he did not turn.
"Eddy !" she said gently.
He only shook her hand off impatiently;
but she was not thus easily to be repulsed,
for she had -prayed long and earnestly that
she might be enabled to win back her little
brother's love, and she felt sure that God
would hear her prayer; so she spoke again
"Eddy, I did very wrong to make you
go out the other day."
He did not answer.
"Have you left off loving me, Eddy ?"
Still he was silent.
I love you better than ever now," she
went on, and her voice trembled.
He turned round suddenly and flung
66 REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
himselfinto her arms. "0 Martha, Martha,"
he sobbed, "don't give me up, don't let them
all hate me, it'll be so bad."
"We shall not; you know we shan't, Eddy."
"I want to go clean away and not see
you any more. I'd like to die and go to
"Hush, dear Eddy. Do you think, if God
did let you die, that you'd go and live with
A very faint "No," was the answer.
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. .67
"Why not ?" asked. Martha.
"Because I be a thief."
"Are you sorry you stole, Eddy ?"
"Yes; oh yes ;" and the little boy let his
head fall upon her shoulder.
"Then God will forgive you," said
Martha earnestly. "I've heard out of the
Bible some words like these: 'If we con-
fess our sins, he. is faithful and just to forgive
us our sins, and to cleanse us from all un-
Do you think he'll forgive me, when
I've been so bad ?" said Eddy, looking up.
"I know he will. Don't you remember
mother used to tell us about the Lord Jesus
Christ. forgiving the thief who was nailed
to the cross by his side? Won't you ask
him, Eddy ?"
"And ask him to keep you from ever
doing it again. Won't you ?"
"I want help as much as you do, Eddy
boy. I know we can't keep on doing right
unless he keeps on helping us; so we must
ask him to teach us, and take care of us."
68 REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
"0 Martha, it was so bad this morning.
I thought, when they sent. Joe to the re-
formatory, they'd be sure to send me too;
and I cried so, and I couldn't hardly speak,
and I never looked up till they said I might
go home; and the gentleman he spoke so
grave about my never stealing again; and
then Mr. Burke brought me home."
"Thank God," whispered Martha.
"Is father very angry ? will he beat me?"
asked her little brother fearfully.
"No, Eddy, I don't think he will; but if
he does, you must bear it patiently."
At this moment the father's step was
heard outside, and he entered, accompanied
by Dick and Lucy.
"Why, there's Eddy!" cried the little
girl, as she caught sight of him.
A quick frown came on the father's fore-
head, but it passed away as he fixed a keen
and piercing gaze upon his little boy. There
was something in that small white face, with
its wistful blue eyes and frightened look,
that reminded David Wilson of his wife:
and laying his hand on the child's shoulder,
he said sternly, but not harshly, My chap,
REPENTANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 69
I had a mind to give you a hiding; but
you've had a lesson, and I don't think you'll
forget it; so I'll forgive you. And mind,
you children, I mean this affair to be
dropped amongst us. Let it be a warning
to all of you; but I'll not have anything
more said about it."
And that day was the turning-point in
little Eddy's life. At night, in his small
garret, long after Willie was asleep, Eddy
knelt by his little bed, imploring pardon from
his Saviour for the past, asking to have all
his sins washed away in his blood, and to be
given his Holy Spirit, to make him fit to
live with him for ever in heaven.
And the cripple's prayer was heard on
high by him who says, Call upon me in
the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee ;'"
and an answer of peace was sent down into
his sorrowful little heart. .
THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
Then fear not, poor and patient ones,
Who toil in suffering now;
God knows the struggle of your life,
And sees your anxious brow.
"Fear not though hungry, desolate,
Ye'walk in darkness on,
And see no light; be patient still,
Your day of joy will dawn."
Thoughts in Verse.
j HE sunshine had found its way into
Martha's home, and it was pleasant
to see the good which it began to
We have seen the first steps to-
wards improvement, but Martha found the
work slow and difficult; there was so much
Mischief to be undone before any real good
could be done.
However, she had a wise and faithful
THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
friend in Mrs. Burke, who put her in the
way of performing various household duties
of which she had formerly been ignorant.
Ben was found to be a willing carpenter,
and entered heartily into his sister's improve-
ments; and they were rewarded for their
work by their father's look of surprise at the
altered appearance of the room,' and his
hearty words of praise.
"Why, Martha girl, things are looking-
up; this is cheerier than it's been for many
a long day."
But not only the room was changed, but
Martha herself, both outwardly and inwardly.
Outwxardly-for her dress, though very poor,
was, under Mrs. Burke's directions, well
washed and patched; and inwardly-for
God's Holy Spirit had worked a change in
her heart. Old things were passing away"
--her fretfulnesss, anger, laziness, and cold-
ness-and all things were becoming new;"
for there were springing up within her the
fruits of that blessed Spirit, which are "love,
joy, peace," &c.
Eddy was altered too. It was touching
to see the humility which was written in his
72 THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
face, and how for some time he shrunk from
the rest of the family; but he clung to
Martha, and lost no opportunity of doing
little thoughtful acts of kindness to save her
Mrs. Burke took a great fancy to him.
She pitied him at first, and then his quiet,
humble manner won upon her warm heart;
and she constantly had him with her, while
she helped Martha very much by sending
little Willie to a day-school.
But very often large black clouds arise,
which for a time obscure the brightest sun-
shine, and so it was in Martha's home. It
was after she had "sufferedA a while that
she- was to be "made perfect, established,
strengthened, and -settled."
It had been cleaning-day; but the clean-
ing was done, and Martha had seated her-
self with her work near the open window
-for it was the summer time-and was
looking with admiration at the beautiful
blossoms on a geranium which Mrs. Burke
had given to Eddy, and which the little boy
had placed in the window, that Martha
might see it when she was sewing.
THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
The cripple was sitting near her, reading
to her the last number of a magazine which
had been lent to him by his kind friends.
He had just finished the description of a
happy home circle, when he paused, and
looking up inr his sister's face, he said,-
"Martha, shall we ever be like that ?"
"I hope so," replied his sister with a
I thought people couldn't be very happy
unless they were rich."
74 THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
"0 Eddy, dear, you know better! The
Saviour didn't think that, because he made
all the poorest people happy. It's his love,
I think, that makes us so; and we can all
"Does father love him?"
Martha sighed. She very much feared
that he did not.
"Father doesn't never read the Bible
nor go to church, Martha."
"We will hope -and pray that he may
some day," said Martha.
"I wonder who that is.coming in. It isn't
time for Ben."
"It's a man's step; who can it be ?" But
not much -time was left for wondering, for a
man from the warehouse where their father
worked hastily entered the room, saying,
"You must come instantly; your father has
had a terrible fall, and is dangerously hurt."
Martha sprang from her seat with a cry-
"Father, father, did you say ? Oh, take
me quick! He is dead, and you will not tell
"Hush, my girl you must be more
quiet. If you put yourself in such a fuss,
THE DAY OF TROUBLE. 7s
you'll do more harm than good. Your father
is hurt very badly; but you'll do no good
by screaming so. Just put on your bonnet
and come along with me."
Tremblingly Martha obeyed, her face
growing paler with every moment's delay;
but just as she was leaving the room, Eddy
slipped to her side, and laying his hand on
hers, whispered, "God says, Call upon me
in the day of trouble.' I'll do that, Martha,
because I'm of no other use, but I know
that will do some good."
"Do, dear," replied Martha, as she kissed
him; "and then, Eddy, go to Mrs. Burke and
tell her, and ask her to come to me."
Quickly she followed her guide to the
narrow street where the great warehouses
towered story upon story above her head.
They paused at the entrance of one of them,
and entered the yard where poor David
Wilson lay, stretched, on some sacks of wool.
He was groaning terribly, and Martha could
not restrain a violent burst of tears as she
saw the agony he was enduring. Kneeling
down beside him, she took his hand, and
then raising his head, made him lean against
76 THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
her. This seemed to give him some small
relief, for opening his eyes, he smiled faintly
at his daughter, murmuring,-
"That's better; don't fret, Sarah!" (Sarah
had been the name of his wife.)
"Will he die ?" asked Martha, looking
up imploringly in the faces of the men who
Don't know," was' the reply. "We've
sent for a doctor, but he's long a-coming."
"His leg's broken, I think, and there
seems something the matter with his side,"
Oh, but he is dying-look-look said
Martha, as she pointed with terror to his
face, over which an ashy paleness was creep-
ing, and the hand within hers became cold
"Father, father I" she cried; but he did
not answer, and his head lay powerless on
his daughter's shoulder.
"He is dead!" she almost screamed. "Oh,
what shall I do ?" and in a moment there
rushed into her mind all the pain and lone-
liness of orphanhood; she fancied herself
bereft of a father's care, left unprovided for
THE DAY. OF TROUBLE. 77
with all her young brothers. And then, what
would become of her father ? where would
his soul be ? could she look forward to
meeting him again ? And was she never to,
hear his voice any more? was she to be alone,
utterly alone ?
In the bitterness of her sorrow she forgot
the scene around her, and bowed her head
over the insensible form which she sup-
"Martha, my child, my poor child," said
Mrs. Burke's kind voice by her side.
She raised her face, and her good friend
started at the sight of the fixed despair
written upon it, as she cried,'-" 0 Mrs.
Burke, he is dead !-he is dead! "
"No, dear, I trust not; he has fainted
from the sharpness of the pain. But let me
support him while you fetch a little water."
Martha obeyed, and by the time she re-
turned, the doctor had come, and her father
had recovered consciousness.
"It is a bad accident," said the doctor;
"he had better be put on a stretcher and
taken to the infirmary."
Oh no, no !" pleaded Martha; "do let
78 THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
us have him at home. I'll nurse him so
'well! Oh, please do."
The doctor looked inquiringly at Mrs.
Burke, who gently put her hand on Mar-
tha's shoulder and said, It will be far
better for him to go- to the infirmary, my
"Oh no, no!" said poor Martha; "I
must have him at home."
Mrs. Burke looked puzzled for a moment,
and then said, Martha, I've often given
you advice before, and you've taken it;
won't you do so now, when I tell you that it
would be for your father's good to go to the
Martha did not reply, and the doctor went
away to order a stretcher.
Well, Martha ?" said her friend, after a
few minutes had passed, during which the
groans of the suffering man had been the
only sound which had broken the silence.
"Do as you like," she said, turning away
her head; and as her father was lifted up,
she stood wistfully gazing after him until the
stretcher and the men who bore it were out
THE DAY OF TROUBLE. 79
"Now, Martha dear," said Mrs. Burke,
putting the girl's trembling arm within her
BORN E AWAY.
own, "you. must come home with me for a
Martha knew not and cared not where
she was. going, and did not resist Mrs.
Burke's wish; so the kind woman brought
her into the-quiet little back-parlour, which
had been Martha's refuge in all kind of
troubles, and making her sit down, she talked
to her kindly and soothingly about her
father's accident. But Martha hardly an-
-80. THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
swered her, and Mrs. Burke soon saw that
the girl was vexed.
Martha, my dear, you think I was hard
on you just now."
"No; I suppose you thought I wasn't fit
"Not a bit of it, my dear; but listen awhile.
Your father's accident is a very severe one;
I'm afraid his illness will be long and serious;
and, in the first place, are you capable of
meeting the expense of it, now that his wages
are stopped ?"
Martha shook her head, and Mrs. Burke
went on. "There will be medicine, and
lotions, and good food, and various kinds of
comforts which you have not got, and which
he will have in the infirmary. Then, again,
there is the noise of the children; you know
you can't keep them like mice for a long
"No; it would be very hard."
"Well, my dear: now there's a sister of
Mr. Burke's, whose husband was very ill,
and she would have him at home; and so
it went on, until I went to see them, and
then how do you think I found them ? The
THE DAY OF TROUBLE.
poor man was very ill, and the wife didn't
know much about nursing; she did what she
could, poor soul, but while she was. attend-
ing to him, her little children were going to
rack and ruin, and so were all her household
concerns. I went into the sick man's room;
nothing was nice there. The air was close
and confined, the window never was opened,
the bed was untidy and uncomfortable,-
everything wore a look of discomfort that
was very trying. The poor man had no
nourishing food-his wife said she couldn't
afford it when there were so many mouths -
to feed-and so he was not regaining his
strength. Poor things! my heart ached for
them, and we did what we could; but think
how much better off that man would have
been in the infirmary!"
"Yes," said Martha.
"There your father will be tended by an
experienced -nurse, have the best medical
attendance, get everything he wants to make
him well, and he will be about again in half
the time that he would have been getting
well at home. Are you vexed still, my
82 THE DAY OF TROUBLE. ,
"No," said Martha, throwing her arms for
an instant round Mrs. Burke's neck; and
then she added, I must go home; the chil-
dren will want me."
Well, my child, I think you'll want
something to do now; so, if you are able, I
can give you some needle-work to be at in
spare moments : and I'd like you to let me
have Eddy for a bit; I've a fancy for that
boy, and I'd take care of him."
"Thank you," said Martha gratefully, and
then she hurried home.
The cloud was dark; but still there was a
rainbow of comfort to brighten it.
"CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
"Put thou thy trust in God,
In duty's path go on;
Walk in his strength with faith and hope,
So shall thy work be done.
"Through waves; and clouds, and storms,
His power will clear thy way;
Wait thou his time-the darkest night
Shall end in brightest day."
ND Martha waited with patience
and trustful hope for the time
when God should see fit to drive
away the dark clouds, and let the
Sunshine again into her home.
Six months passed away, and a
new year came, with its untrodden path, its
hidden cup of joys and sorrows.
It was the evening of New Year's Day,
and there was joy everywhere; none of the
sadness which is so much connected with the
84 "CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
evening before. was mixed with it. The old
year had passed away with all its sorrows,
its sins, and its cares; and now there was
hope to brighten the unknown future in
nearly every heart. Solemnity there was,
or ought to have been, inw the thought of the
responsibilities and uncertainties of the new
portion of time allotted to each human being,
-and such was the 'feeling in Martha's
heart, as she heard the merry clatter and
laughter of the happy group -around her;
and though she joined heartily in it, her
mind seemed to be lifted above it all, and
inwardly she thanked God for his mercies to
her, and prayed that his presence might en-
lighten and bless her home through the
year that was coming.
It certainly was a pleasant sight, that
joyous party. Martha's father sat in an
arm-chair, which had been lent by Mrs.
I-Burke. He. had quite recovered from his
accident, and was going back to work the
next day. Willie was on his knee, neatly
and comfortably dressed. Eddy, who was
now regularly employed in Mrs. Burke's
shop, was sitting on a low stool near the fire,
" CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
NEW YEAR'S D.A 1
turning over the leaves of a nice copy of the
SPilgrim's Progkrss," of which his friends
had made him a present that day. Dick
and Lucy were roasting chestnuts between
S6 <" CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
the hot bars, burning their fingers in their
attempts to pull them out; while Ben was
cutting out a little boat for Willie. Martha
was spreading the tea-table, and seeing that
everything was in readiness, for they were
expecting visitors that evening.
I wonder when they'll come," said Lucy,
pulling her fingers out quickly from the hot
ashes, into which the last chestnut had
"They ought to be here now," said her
Eddy says they've baked a big cake for
us, father, ever so much bigger than my
head," whispered Willie confidentially.
"I told you not to tell," said Eddy, giving
him a little poke with the end of his crutch.
"Oh, father won't tell," replied Willie.
"But I heard what you said," put in
"Well, here they come, so there's not
much longer to keep the secret," said David
. Wilson, as he stood up to welcome his guests.
I'm glad to see you, Mrs. Burke; it's kind
of you to be so friendly."
Mrs. Burke was too busy kissing the
CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN." 87
children to notice this remark, and soon
they were all seated at tea; and Martha
saw from her friiend's face how pleased she
was with the order and cleanliness of every-
After tea they had some games, and then
Mr. Burke made a great dish of snap-dragon
for the children, and looked as pleased as
they did, while he listened to their peals of
This amusement was followed by singing;
for Martha, Dick, and Eddy had sweet, clear
voices, and sung a great many songs very
What's that you were singing last Sun-
day ?" asked their father.
Martha coloured a little, and hesitated,
for she did not know that he had overheard
them; but Eddy answered,-
It was a hymn, father."
Sing it now."
"Which was it ?" asked Martha brightly,
"for we sung a good many."
I don't know; but I mind that I heard
it long ago, and the only words in my head
"CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN.
THE CHILDREN'S HYMN.
" 'Worthy the Lamb, our lips
For he was slain for us.'"
Oh, I know, I I
the one I like best,
cried Dick, "it's
)I can sing loud
" Come let us join our cheerful songs.' "
Mrs. Burke smiled at the good reason
which Dick assigned for liking it, and then
they all joined in singing the words which
are so well known and so heartily beloved
throughout our' land.
CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN." 89
A long silence ensued,, which was broken
by David Wilson saying thoughtfully,--
I haven't heard that since I was a boy
in church with my mother; ah, she was a
"Now we must go," said Mrs. Burke,
standing up. We've had a very pleasant
evening, Mr. Wilson."
You needn't go so early, surely ?" said
David Wilson cordially.
Yes, we must. Much obliged to you
all the same; but my Thomas likes to read
a chapter of the Bible, and pray with the
family before we go to bed, and we must
not keep the maid-servant and the boys up
any longer;" and with a kindly "Good-
night," she parted from them; but as she
kissed Martha, she whispered, "God bless
you with his choicest blessings through the
year that is coming, my child; may he be
your best Friend and constant Guide."
Martha squeezed her friend's hand tightly
in answer, and then the baker and his wife
I'm glad you coaxed me into stopping
at home this evening, Patty," said Ben;
90 CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
" I've had a jolly time of it, and I don't be-
lieve I should have been better off with
those chaps who asked me to go out with
I don't think you would," said his sister,
looking up at him quietly.
This room is much nicer than it used to
be; it doesn't seem like the same at all,"
he remarked after a few minutes.
"You've helped to make it nice, Ben,"
Not much, Patty; but I'll do my best
to keep it-so."
All this time. David Wilson had been
sitting thoughtfully leaning his elbows on
the table, and his head on his hands; at
length he looked up and said,-
Children, listen to me. While I was
ill I thought a good bit, and now I want to
tell you something. We've not been living
as we should; we've been forgetting God,
children; and not living as if heaven was
before us. Let us change; it is high time
we should. We have many mercies: God
has' spared me still to work for you; he has
raised up kind friends for us; and last, not
" CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
least, he has given me this good daughter,
and you this good sister," and he laid his
broad hand upon Martha's head, and then
added reverently, "Let us try to thank him
in our lives. Willie, my lad, get down
Martha's eyes kindled with pleasure, and
she listened with an overflowing heart, while
her father read a psalm, and then, kneeling
down, repeated the Lord's Prayer.
Quietly and gratefully she went
at the end of that day of happiness ;
92 "CLEAR SHINING AFTER RAIN."
she did so she poured out her heartfelt
thanksgiving to her Father in heaven, and
implored that all her sins and shortcomings
might be forgiven for her Saviour's sake;
and that she might receive fresh supplies of
strength and help for the future.
The clouds have passed away, and God
be thanked for the sunshine that has entered
" Martha's Home !"
THE LONG NIGHT.
T was the close of a warm day in the
S I latter part of August, and little
Franz Hoffinuster was playing in
the cottage door with his baby
sister Karine. His older sister,
Therese, was busy clearing away the even-
ing meal ;.and his brother Robert was in-
dustriously carving curious wooden spoons,
and knives and forks, to sell to travellers
whom his father might guide over the moun-
tains : for you must know that these four
children lived in a little Swiss chalet, or
cottage, at the foot of some famous moun-
tains; and when little Franz lifted his eyes,
he did not see a row of houses, three stories
high, but, instead of these, high mountains
94 THE LONG NIGHT.
stretched their grand old heads up into the
very sky. The mother of these little Swiss
children had died more than a year ago, and
as they were very poor, Therese-who was
only twelve years old-had been the little
housekeeper ever since.
Now, when I tell you that the father had
gone to guide some travellers over the
mountains, and would not be back till the
next day, I think you will feel quite well
acquainted with this pleasant family,, and
will like to hear a little more about them.
It was sunset, and Franz, quite tired of play,
leaned his head against Therese's knee, and
fixed his gentle blue eyes upon the glittering
Do you remember, Franz," said Therese,
"what the little English boy's father said
the night he was here ?"
"No; what did he say ?"
Why, we were looking at the sunset,
and it was just as beautiful as it is to-night,
for it seemed as if all the mountain tops
were on fire, and you could imagine the
strangest things. At last I thought it must
be like some of the grand, far-away cities, of
THE LONG NIGHT.
which the travellers so often talk. -So I
went up to the good gentleman, and said,.
' Does it look like. London, sir ?' I do not
think he heard me, for he just kept his eyes,
fixed upon the mountains, and he looked as.
if he saw something very wonderful a great.
way off. And while I was trying to think
what it was, he stretched out his hands so.
slowly, and said softly,-Lift up your heads,
0 ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting'
doors ; and the King of Glory shall come in.?
These were the very words, for I learned
them afterwards from my little book."
Well," broke in little Franz breathlessly,
" what happened then ? Did you see any
door or gate, and did any king come in ?"
"No," said Therese thoughtfully. I
could not think what the good gentleman
meant, for he only looked straight into the
beautiful red sunset, and I had seen it just
the same often before. But he looked so
long and so earnestly, that I began to be
afraid that something was going to happen.
So I took hold of his hand, and said, Please,
sir, do you see any gate, and will the king
soon come through ?' I had to ask him two
THE LONG NIGHT.
or three times.before he heard me, and then
he looked down so kindly, and -smiled with
his eyes, but did not say anything at first.
So I asked again, 'Is it your king, sir?'
'Yes, little Therese, my king,' said he. Is
it the King of England ?' I asked. 'No;'
and he smiled a little more. The King of
France?' No.'. 'Ah, the King of Sweden,
then?' 'No, little Therese,' said he; 'it is
the. "King of Glory."' 'And where is
" Glory," sir ? I asked. Is it far away
behind the mountains, and is it very near
England ? 'No,' said he, smiling more and
more; 'it is no nearer England than Swit-
zerland. It is in heaven; and all who love
and serve the Lord Jesus,. and strive always
to do right for his -sake, are getting ready
for the time when the King will come and
take them with him to his glory, and that
time is coming nearer every day.'"
% Well, sister," said Franz slowly, I tried
to, do right for Jesus' sake to-day. Neigh-
bour Ulrich was just going up the mountain
with his mule and a heavy load of bread and.
fruit, when the mule fell, and everything
tumbled over the ground. Oh, how angry