Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The boy who would do as he...
 The heiress and her indignant...
 A bad temper conquered; or, the...
 The twin sisters
 A visit to a poor old man, or,...
 The little soldier; or, the history...
 The mischevous boy

Title: Pebbles from Jordan
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00062121/00001
 Material Information
Title: Pebbles from Jordan
Series Title: Pebbles from Jordan
Physical Description: Book
Language: English
Creator: Miss Graham
Adams, J. A. ( Engraver )
Publisher: J. C. Riker
Place of Publication: New York ( 129 Fulton Street )
Publication Date: 1850
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00062121
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltuf - ALH1094
alephbibnum - 002230729

Table of Contents
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
        Front Matter 3
        Front Matter 4
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
    The boy who would do as he liked
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The heiress and her indignant companion
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    A bad temper conquered; or, the character of Moses
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
    The twin sisters
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    A visit to a poor old man, or, the history of Balak and Balaam
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
    The little soldier; or, the history of Joshua
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    The mischevous boy
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
Full Text


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f my 1


'Ii Boy who woml do w hA 1huimA As @NNW d
PhavA hand isHEk .
STb. flidrrum mad Irnigmi Cinp.............
A bad Tampw CamIquhd; w, 21m~in U.~ *t 0 4
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Theb. UliaDai.; 4w aNweih
T6 .omm" ..







"Irnaopu I may do an Ilqiips, d" isr adi
Fredeuick Seymour, mami so isb
who wished ME to plky wi* 6aftibSSI
a hulday, buing Wlei. 5 tdEn h ud*I
oeam see m ikae o udwo
he." shkgo a hudoma
ymo can smusie youuet lv
seldom ihat Igm a'~~ym MA a &~
Aa spend iL aI b.

"Well, then," said Frank, who knew that his
brother would do as he said, I will play with you,
Edward; never mind Frederick, we can play at
bal or with our tops; so come along."
Poor Edward was very much disappointed; he
wanted Frederick to play with him too; for it was
not oa that he could have his eldest brother to
play with him, beosao he went to school.
ThMa three little boys were the Mson of r.
B nra lergyma; he was a very e celen
., dM gusdy beohed by a the people his
prih; tim ridi ad dtb poor, the high and low,
al 1d Mr. Seymour ad his family; it consist
a &fft e s aMldtwo daughter, and their
-- who was a very kind woman. She her-
mf edrmted hber daughters. Ama ead Matilda,

who were both great girt; ad bhe tookthem wid
her to visit the poor, and relieve their water.
Frederick ws about ten years od; he was vey
tall for his age, and had been at school f twe
ears. Frank was nearly nin; madatda dwad
only four. Mrs. Seymour had bI m y -es
about Frederick, even at amly iag, basMe
saw many selfih and umiam b fe bga ins i:
she, as well as hi ppa, ad takue mnuk tsde
with him, and tied toe a to our the is a-lim
which, if mat comqured in yo u, gamr
and smWr, ta thle qum lpwi d is hen hr
and make peop Bi--NIbs w*Mo W th
Frederick did not mid ay t~i -mt a* hl
mrama's beah was delicate, hi paps dosmid
to send him to Khooi moik eetm thi ham d bt

fst intended. Frank was quite a different boy;
he had plenty of spirit, but he was never so happy
as when he could make others happy too; he was
very fond of his little brother Edward, and would
often leave a game of play to take care of him,
whilt his mamma sat at work, and his sisters were
learning their lesson. This morning, Frank
thought it would be very unkind indeed, not to
assm Edward, a it was his birth-day; o he
gae p his wiek to go with his elde brother to
fsh, ad woe into the naery with Edward.
The boys wer in the garden, when they di-
paed about their muements, and did not think
T**deir papa and manum were till in the break-
fsbessm, which looked on the lawn. Mr. and
Mmr, -yor saw them sparat, and feared ths

a usual, Frederick was determined to pleas hie
self, without caring for his brothers: therefore,
when Frank and Edward came in doors, they
called them into the room, and asked where Fred.-
rick was. "He is gone to fiah, mamxa, answer-
ed Frank, and Edward looked Vry srnowfuL
" Did you ask him to rtay wih 'Y aked their
papa. "Yes," said Frank; "we *i1 aB rw
could to make him say and play with ^ bkr e
would not; he aid hesbomld do as he a %la i
we might do as we liked; for he eld plM
himself." "all him" il t Mr. seyma. mi
rick was called and qmstimed; he was vry erm
and Mr. Seymour was much grieed to dtLk le
little improvement he bad made in oarnearg i
fault in his conducL "You will peat

ened temper, some day, Frederick; you will, in-
deed," aid he with great sorrow, to him: no one
ever goes on as you have done, without being
punished; and I fear to think of the awful ex
ample we have in the Holy Scriptures, of God's
judgments on hardened and self-willed people.
You are not too young to know what is right; you
are, therefore, not too young to be punished by
God for your sins : my child, if you were to die
in this wicked state of feeling, what would become
of you Frederick, you have been taught what
is right and wrong and if you choose to do wrong,
you know what will be the consequence."
Irederick burt into tears: but he had so often
ben sorry before, and promised to behave better
dtlM rents knew how little such promises or

tears could be relied on: they therefore now de-
termined to try the effects of punishment. "You
must spend to-day in-my study, Frederick," said
his papa; "and I hope this may be the last time
I shall have to correct you for a selfish temper.
You, my dear boys, may go and play; though, at
the same time, I am glad to ee you feel sorry for
your brother: I have too oftea driven him at
your requests, but now I cannot."
Frank and Edward left the parlour fMr the ie
sery, and Frederick slowly flowed hb after to
the study. Mr. Seymour had a great emy vii
to pay to the sick ad poor, wo he g him a long
eson to learn, and denied him to apply to it dil)'
genoty, that he might see he felt his punifthIMW
be just, and was really sorry for his h

12 .

It was nearly three hours before Mr. Seymour
came back, and Frederick was quite ready for him;
he said his lesson perfectly, and then waited in
rather a sullen manner for his papa's pardon.
"Frederick." said his papa, "do you remember
the judgments God sent on Pharaoh and his host,
or any of those -which the children of Israel suf-
fered for their irdened tempers." Frederick said,
"No." Then," said Mr. Seymour, I will repeat
them to youand may God soften your heart, that
you may be maved from the sins of disobedience
and elf-will.
"It was with great wonders that God brought
the children of.Israel out of Egypt. Pharaoh
would ant liten to God's commands, and it was
amt il te d was nearly d qroyed, and dreadful

plagues had been suffered, that Pharaoh let them
go; and even then, though Pharoah had endured
so much for his obstinate self-will, he had no soon-
er let them go, than he rose up with his hosts or
armies, and followed them: but God was with them.
He led them through the wilderness, with a cloud
by day, and a pillar of fire by ; Obt: and when
they came to the Red Sea, he diid it, for them
to pass through on dry land; bat Pharaoh sad bt
Egyptians who followed after them, and tried to go
through, were swallowed vp and downed. Thus
did God aenge himulf n the selwilled ad dis-
obedient Pharaoh.
"Then did the Israelites praise God for their
mighty deliverance. Yet Israel soon sinned
against God by their murmurs. They had may

difficules to go through; but they ought not to
have been so ungrateful as tJ murmur as they did:
sometimes they wanted water, and could not get
it; sometimes they wanted bread, but God suppli-
ed their wants. He sent them bread from heaven
in the shape of manna, which they gathered, every
morning, as soon as the dew was gone: they were
to gather only enough for each day, except on the
day before the Sabbath, when they were to gather
enough for that day and the next, because they
should not work om the sabbth-day; some of the
people disobeyed this command, and went out to
gather manna on the sabbth, but they found none;
and God was angry with them.
After this, he gave them laws through his sere
vast Moaes, and promised to seld his angels be.


fore them, to keep them, in the way; and the
people promised to obey him, and Moe was their
mediator. He went up into a Mount to auL (
to God, and he brought his Laws to '
they were even instructed how to buildM
for his service. But whilst Moes was in bth
Mount, receiving God's commuadm, the people
again became elf-willed, and made agrvem im-
age, and worshipped it: aud God was very mry,
and would have killed them ll, but Moses pin .
for them. And when he came down from e
Mount, he called them, and M "id, Who is ontid
Lord's side and those who were, he ardmel -
kill the others; and thu God was ave
elf-willed and hardened; o ad God did Idi 6.
them as he had done, any ore, because of dth

wickednes. And the people were very sorry,
and Moses prayed again for them, and the people
made offering to God, and he heard them. Mo-
se was then ordered to number the people.
As they journeyed to the promised land, some-
times they envied Moses, and were discontented
with him; but God always took care of his pro-
phet, and rebuked and punished the children of Is-
rael. Moses was a very meek man, and the peo-
ple sometimes were afraid of passing by the coua-
tries to which they came; for they forgot that
God ws with them; and that where he is, there
must be safety.
"They still continued to tempt and provoke
God, by their constant murmurs and disobediece,
notwithstanding his great goodness to them; so

that he was obliged to punish them frequently.
Once, he swallowed up a large company by an
earthquake: another time, he sent a plague
amongst them; but whenever they repented, he
forgave them, and protected them from their ene
mies. And before Moses died, he was permitted
to see the countries which were to belong to Is-
rael, but he did not go up himself; and Moses lft
the care of Israel to Joshua, his servant, as God
Thus you see, my dear boy, that God wil not
be disobeyed; he will be feared; and it is not a-
ly useless, but wicked, to harden ourselves agait
his laws. He has commanded you to love yar
brethren, and do as you would be done by; and
God wiB love and protect you, if you y to smbda






a rainr oumo Y. Ye 1 m I YLY
awn. igUWaw ft Ye Ow 3Aue


U13r ".ambh.CCinlm


LomUA HaiTLAurD was girl of ud aain -
temper and violent pejudiw, who pgae w to
it of ill-humour, whoe indugnmee was iuji
to her health, well as to her hesuct. TiR
unfortunate child was the only daugyi a
wedhy mFerhnt in Liverpool a mak tMl


for his social virtues, as he was respected for his
integrity. She had the misfortune to lose her
mother in her infancy, and her loss was ill-sup-
plied by an aunt, who indulged the young heiress
in every whim or wish, till her unchecked foibles
had arisen into faults that threatened to deprive
her of the affection of all her friends.
As her delicate state of health precluded the
possibility of sending her to school, Mr. Maitland
procwd an accomplished and highly principled
young lady, to superintend her education, and took
home a little girl about her own age, as her com-
pnion and fellow-stadent.
The father of Grace Hope was a naval officer,
wob lost his life in the battle of the Nile, and lef

1 25

his child a portioless orphan, at the early age of
eight year. Like Louisa, Grace had never known
a mother's care, but then her pious nurse had sup-
plied her place, and taught her to fear and love
God, and lisp his praises with her infant lips.
Mr. Maitland became acquainted with Mary
Grey, while attending the death-bed of a ditant
relative; and saw, and was pleased with little
Grace; and offered to educate her with his own
daughter. Nurse Grey loved the orphan child of
her master's son too well, to refuse mseheadvlan
tageos situation for her nueling; and Mr. Mak
land carried the weeping Grace to Liverpool, and
presented her. to Loui as her phymmae nd
adoe sister.


At first, Louisa was delighted with her young
companion, and brought out her hoard of toys for
her amusement, and lavished on her a profusion of
little presents and endearments. This kindness,
unfortunately, was of short duration; for Louisa
was very capricious, and felt the same attachment
to Grace, as she did to a new play-thing; and
soon grew as tired of her little playfellow as she
was of the jointed doll her father had brought
home for her at the same time. She became
hsh, qmmlsome, and capriious, and soon treat
ed the poor orphan with cruelty and contempt.
Poor Grace now often wished herself back in
Nore Grs humble cottage, where she had lived
hpily, are her birth: and sometimes, sh


would retire into a corner, and weep bitterly. One
day her governed found her in tears, and insisted
on knowing the occasion of her grie. Grace was
loth to complain of Louisa, and she was silent,
but her torn hand bore the marks of recent
scratches; and Miss Malden's questions at length
drew the whole truth from her reluctant lips. It
seemed that Grace had accidentally dropped a
wax doll on the floor, and broken its arm, when its
enraged little mistress had scratched and beat
her, and bestowed many hard names upag er, a
well as blows. Miss Malden was shocked; she
wiped the tears from the eyes of the affibd
Grace, and assured her she wovU $* Mis
Lomi for her unfeeling conduCt.

"Oh, no! ma'am; pray do not; it would vex
Mr. Maitland so very much; but, indeed, I shall
never be happy here. Do ask for me to be sent
home, again, to dear nurse Grey's cottage."
My child, you were happier there, I dare say;
but you have the opportunity of learning a great
many things, here, which will be of advantage to
you, all your life, which your nurse cannot teach
you. No situation, dear Grace, is exempt from
tromAi; and yours, though trying, might be worse
than ltft now. Ib patient, and profit by the ex-
cellent education Mr. Maitland's benevolence af-
fbrdsc, ay d you will, like me, be able to get
your ~nd, perhaps, allow your good
M a9d, to make he old agr* -m

fortable. Take these crosses patiently, my dear
and remember that, at first, 11 afflictions seem
very grievous; but, afterward, they yield the
peaceable fruits of holiness. Miss Malden then
kissed the little girl, and departed, to admonish
Louisa. The young heiress, however, was sullen
and obdurate, and could not be prevailed upon to
ask Grace's pardon.
From that day, Miss Maiden kept a vigilent eye
on both her pupils: and.whenever she
asperity in Louisa's manner,
the part of Grace, never failed to admoi them
counselling mildness to one, and f qor e 1-
other. Grace profited by the-eli they*a
hadfM effect on the mind of Loebi I*

she dared not behave unkindly to her companion,
in Miss Malden's presence, she ill-treated her
whenever she was left alone with her; and even
upbraided her with what her father had done for her.
Gratitu le to Mr. Maitland sealed the lips of the
young probationist; and when she found herself
inclined to return any sharp answer to the ungene-
rous Louisa, she would retire into her own room,
and pray for a meek and forgiving spirit.
As she advanced in years and knowledge, a
smile front her benefactor, or a word of commen-
dation from Miss Malden, seemed to outweigh all
Loisa's crossness. She paid the most diligent
attention to her studies, and excelled in every
plhimlmltIn, although the latter possessed a


much finer capacity than herself. Capacity, how-
ever, will not supply the place of perseverance,
though perseverance sometimes will that of capw-
The careless and capricious Louisa could not
bear to be surpassed by her humble companion,
and she became more fretful, violent, and unjust,
than ever. If she sat down to the piano, to play
duets with Grace, it was Grace who put her out
of tune; if she let her painting-brush fall on the
paper, it was owing to Grae's having shaken the
table; if her scissors or thimble were missing,
Grace had certainly hidden them; or if her dress
was spotted with ink, Grace had battered it frem
her p.

These false accusations were credited by Mrs.
Judith Maitand, who indulged all the foibles of
her niece, and took poor Grace to task, on her
slightest complaint; she, however, bore these trials
with patient meekness, hoping to win the affection
and approbation of her wayward companion, by
this judicious conduct: but, alas I the baleful pas-
sion of envy closed Louisa's heart against hei
gentle endeavours, and she treated all her advances
with coldness and contempt
During one Midsummer vacation, Grace em-
ployed her time in drawing from nature, and
selected an early specimen of that superb plant,
the Delphinium Grandiflora, the American Lark-
pur of wrists, for a particular study. Our young


artist succeeded, very happily, in watching the al-
most inimitable blue of this flower, and produced,
after some hours' intense application, a drawing of
great beauty and spirit. By chance, Mr. Maitland
came into the study, and bestowed the warmest
commendations upon the performance, to the great
mortifiption of Louisa, who was so angry, that in
passing near the table, she purposely swept the
glass of water down with her elbow, which Grace
was using, and deluged the drawing from end to
end with its contents, which floeted the blue colour
all over the paper
This ill-natured action might have pased for
accident, if the malevolent passions that prompted
it had no left its traces on the beautiful feates

of the culprit. Mr. Maitland beheld the transac-
tion with extreme pain; and reproved his daugh-
ter, sharply, for her unprincipled and unamiable
conduct. Louisa, far from expressing any peni-
tence for this sinful action, gave way to more than
her usual violence, and finally opened the glass
door, and went into the garden. It rained fast,
she was heated with passion, and before Mr. Mait-
land could bring her back, had received the dan-
garo effects of the chilling shower.
A violent cold was the immediate consequence
of this wilful and imprudent conduct; and the
seeds of a fatal disease were the bitter fruits.ot
that morning's in. The unhappy girl aggravated
wery bad symptom by her own impatiece and

fretfulness; and when Miss Maden returned, she
found her wayward pupil in a rapid decline.
Poor Louisa had, indeed, pursued evil to her
own death. The chastening hand of the Lord
was upon her, but she knew it not; the precious
tune was ebbing fast, and the unconscious girl
made go attempt to redeem it. Miss Maden felt
herself bound, as a Christian, to warn her of her
dangerous state.
Although this important communication wa
made with maternal tenderness, the terror of the
sufferer threw her into a long fainting-fit, from
which her sorrowing friends feared she would
never revive. This child of error and pasion
did, at length, recover from this temporary death

to lament, with bitter tears, her faults and their
fatal consequences. "Are you sure I shall die ?
is there no hope for me asked she, in a tone of
breathless anxiety, the words half lost in her suf-
focating cough.
"My dear child, there is none for this life, but
there is hope for another. Lose not the precious
time that yet remains in useless lamentations, but
turn to God with all your heart."
"Bui I have been so wicked, so very wicked,"
sobbed Louisa; "that I am not fit to die. Ah!
what shall I do ? and she wrung her wasted hands
and wept still more bitterly than before.
"JLouisa, you must consider your ways, and re-
pent them; and God, for the sake of his beloved

Son, will pardon you, if you seek forgivane
through his blood: for he came into he world to
save sinners, such as you are."
"Pray with me, dear Mis Maiden, teach me
how to die," continued Louisa, with increase
earnestness; and Mis Maiden knelt down sad
prayed for the young sinner. From th time,
Louisa endeavoured to prepare herself to met her
God; and this child, lately so querulous and B-
patient, soon became as meekly mild a lamb
How sweet, to her ear, were the learn d
piety that once were given to her in vain I How
dearly did she now love the once despised Grace I
How fondly her languid eye turned tow her,
yong and affdnnaei anes, for her kid ern.

panion pid her the attention of a tenderly attach-
ed sister! It was from her hand Louisa received
all her medicines; it was her sustaining arm that
supported her drooping head.
The course of time brought round Louisa's
birth-day; the circumstance was not noticed to her
by those friends who remembered it but too well;
s hereelf, was the first to mention it. Papa,
you have not wished me joy of my birth-day,"
said she, with a eree smile; I am thirteen, to-
"My darling child, replied Mr. Maitiad, "I
have not forgotten you;" hi teaful eys told that
he had not.
When I was a wiced ir youl sed to wish

me joy of it, but I had no joy in myself; but now
I feel quite happy, you say nothing. Ah I dear
papa, I shalf never see another; but I want you
to grant me a little favour, I want to give you a
precious gift."
"What is it, dearest," asked her father, mourn
fully gazing on her fair face and sparkling eys,
that shone with the fatal brightness of coaum p.
She took Grace by the hand, "Paps, you am
going to lose me, but you have another daugbr.
Will you let Grace take my place indeed, she
hasbeen a sister to me: and I how cruely ad
unkindly have I often trted her, but she hes -
tamed good f r viL She ---

"Pray say no more," said Grace; "I have for-
gotten it all."
"But God has not," continued the invalid; he
has blotted it out in the blood of his Son; but, still,
he does not forget it, nor ought I. & Oh I how mer
ciful has he been to me, papa; I never was happy,
before: my wicked temper would not let me; but,
indeed, I feel quite another creature; and when I
am gone, you will think of this last birth-day, with
more peaure than all the res."
She was a new creature, anctiied by the spirit
of God, through faith in a crucified Saviour, and
died a few days after this conversation with her
father,as peacefully a if she had been going to sleep.
"I did not once think I could hae loved her so

very much," said the weeping GrOnce, as she stood
by the coffin that contained the mortal remains of
the young heiress.
You were ignorant of the great power of God,"
replied Miss Maiden, which has abundantly been
shown forth in our lamented Louisa. Her death
affords a striking lesson to the young, especially to
those who give way to discontent and passion,
whose effects ar hurtfl, alike, to the frame and
the mind. Our pbor Louis became the slare of
her own wayward temper, and an early grave is
the consequence; for 'as righteousness tendeth to
life, so he that pursueth evil pursueth it to his own
death.' The frail blossom has, indeed, fallen; but
let it be remembered, that God enabled her t

bring forth the fruits of holiness, ere she departed
from us."
Mr. Maitland fulfilled his daughter's request, by
adopting Grace Hope for his own child; and the
grateful girl repays his care, by her dutiful and affec-
tionate conduct. Nurse Grey now lives with her
young lady, whose love makes her study all her *
little comforts and anticipate all her wishes.
Sweet are the uses of adversity, and may every
young probationist find them as beneficial as Grace
Hope has done; and they certainly will, if they
follow her steps. If poor Louia had been as
meek, she might have long remained here, to com-
fort the declining age of her fond father and indul-
gent aunt.






'.w'vim @ &I W lb y bslnu Aem. Mud MImeRa



Rosrra and Aexo s were the youngest children of
a gentleman, who had retired with his large family
to a small town in Hampsire, to try to overcome
he grief which the sudden death of his eosle .
wife had caused; he had four mee and fre daugh
terms, all grown up, but be two youngeaL Robert
was nine, and Agne ony six year old, when they
lost their dear mamma.
Robert had always s hwn a violet .ad -

spirit, which often led him into faults for which he
was very unhappy afterwards; for though he was
so-young, he knew what was right and wrong, and
always felt very sorry for his faults, even if no one
knew of them but himself. Agnes was a mild
little girl, in general; but there were times when
she showed that she had an obstinate temper; she
did not like to be spoken to when she was busy at
play; and was a long time before she would for-
give any one who had oeeaded her. Their eldest
Brother Joseph was engaged in business away frour
home; but when he left home, after having been
summoned to see his mother before she died, he
told his sister Caroline, who was next to him in age,
that he thought for the present she had better pur-
m the ame plan their mother had begun, of duam.

ing Robert and Agnes at home, at least for a year
or two: "And then," added he, "my dear sister,
you will better judge the right method to pursue
with them. You must bear in mind Robert's im-
petuous temper, and Agnes's obstinacy, but do not
attempt to conquer them by force; it must be kind-
ness alone that will effect a change in them; and
I hope and expect," said he, smiling, to find them
much improved, when I next come to visit you."
Caroline felt it a heavy charge, and the moe Mo,
because her father had never been accustomed to
take any care of them when they were children,
but left them entirely to their mamma. After sh
died, he said, On you, Carline, must devolve the
management of the children; never troUes me
about them." ,

Joseph, when he lived at home, had always
taken great interest in his younger brothers and
sisters; and now, when Caroline was left to
manage by herself she felt doubly anxious. She
soon, however, determined to resume the lessons
which had been given up on account of their
mamma's illness and death, and tried to recollect
exactly the manner she haa Adopted in teaching
them, resolved in only one point to change it, and
that was, never to use punishment towards them.
For a few weeks all went on pretty well:
Robert and Agnes learnt their lessons, and did not
quarrel in play-hours. But one day, as Caroline
passed the school-room door, she was much sur-
prised to hear the following words spoken by
Robet, who was in a violent passion. "You

shall see, Miss Agnes, if I do not, some day, make
you sorry for provoking me in this way: give me
that top, directly, or I will break your doll to
pieces: 'I will have it, I say." "You shall not,"
said Agnes; "and if you break my doll, I will
tell papa." I will break it, if you do not let me
have my top," answered Robert; "and you may
tell papa, or any one you like: if I was a ma,
you should see who wa master;" and with these
words, Robert caught hold of Agnes' arm, ad
dragged her round till be got his top out of hr
hand. Agnes was sulle, and obert provoking.
Caroline heard all this, bat he knew tht to go
in and speak to them, would only make them
worse. She now saw that all she had tried, hbd
not improved the children, and she went inte her

own room to think on the best course to take; she
knew if these feelings were not conquered, they
would be the ruin of their happiness in this world
and the next; yet what to do to change them, she
did not know. She thought of speaking to her
father, but she was sure he would say, "Do what
you think best, my dear; I cannot be troubled
with such things." She took up her Bible as it
lay on the table beside her, and remembered to
whom she ought to apply for help: she knelt down
and prayed to God to show her what was best to
be done for the eternal interests of her little bro-
ther and sister, and she fel more happy after she
had done so: sbe was very serious towards them
all day, but took no notice of what had passed.
Their papa was very busy in his office, that

evening, and Robert and Agnes found only Caro-
line in the parlour, when they came down after
dinner; the others had gone for a walk. Robert
wondered why Caroline had not gone too; and he
felt conscious that in some way or other, she had
known of their morning's quarrel.
Soon after they came down, she called them to
her, and said she would tell them a pretty stay;
they looked pleased, and felt gld she ws not
going to be angry with thm, fr they wer vey
fond of her.
"I have often heart you my, Rbert, how much
you would like to have bem Maoe," said Caro.
line; "to have been the leader of a aion through
so many difficulties and dangers: let us se what
his character was, and as you know he was 1u

type or figure of our blessed Saviour; let us try
to trace the likeness between them, through their
lives and characters.
As soon as Moses was born, his life was in
danger through King Pharaoh's cruel order to kill
all the children belonging to the people of Israel
Christ's life was also sought after by King Herod -
the reason for these actions in both the kings, was
jealousy. As soon as Moses could understand the
situation of his nation, he left his home to try to
relieve them and teach them: and our blessed
Saviour began at the age of twelve years, to in
strict the people, in the temple. Moses received
the command from God, to deliver Israel from
their oppressors: and he gave him power to work
signs and miracles. Christ also showed himself

to be the Son of God, by his signs and mionles;
Moes was the mediator between the children of
Israel and God: Christ is our mediator for ever.
Moses fasted forty days and forty night; and our
blessed Saviour did the same. Moses was a
favoured prophet; that is, God gave him power to
fortel what would come to pass: Christ was pro-
phet also. They were both transfigurd on the
Mount, when talking with God: that measm, their
faces became shiningly bright, and their game
a white a the light, o that no one could look on
them, because of the glory which surrounded
them. They were both ill-used by those vety
people they came to deliver. Both were rejected
and looked upon with contempt by their own coua-
tryme. But God always heard both MeeeM Ak,

our Saviour, when they prayed to him; and on
their requests, he often changed his determination
to slay his rebellious people: both instituted a
particular ordinance to be kept by the people: by
God's command, Moses instituted the Lord's Pass-
over; and Christ, who is God, instituted the Lord's
"The Passover was to be kept till our Saviour
should come and perform the sacrifice which it
signed, which was not only the mercy of God in
preserving the rst-bor of the Israelites, when he
smote those of the Egyptians; but, also, Christ's
dying for our sins; and the Lord's Supper is to
be kept, till Christ shall come again in glory to
judge the world.
"But the tviue which marked ech character

so strongly, was meekness.-Moses bore the
taunting of Israel with mildness, and never suffer-
ed himself to be led into violent passions, because
he was provoked by them, and ill treated; and oar
blessed Saviour bore more than any man could
bear, from those very people his divine mercy and
love had induced him to come and save. If the
spirit of meekness was so strong a mark of th
character of Moses, who was the figure of th Son
of God; surely it must be a temper above all other
that God loves to see! If our blessed aviour
practiced it, when he cold have punished his u-
grateful people in one moment, it is a certain pnro
that mildness is a holy virtue, and will be re.
"Moses always checked discontent and violee

among the Israelites; he taught them in meek-
ness; he never dared to take the vengeance of
God in his own hands, and therefore he was be-
loved and protected by him. He continued till
the day of his death as strong as when he was a
young man, and his sight was as good as ever, in
his old age; and because he was such a mighty
prophet, God buried him in a place that no one
might know where he lay, for fear the people, who
wenr often inclined to idolatry, should worship
him as a god. Had Moses attempted of himself
to guide Israel, he would most likely have been
murdered by them; but he left himself and them
in the hands of God, and he preserved them.
"ArA when can we be so happy or so safe as
when we depend on God alone for care, both as

icgards ourselves and also what belongs to us I it
requires courage and strength of mind to be meek;
all can be angry, and get into a passion, but it is
the mark of a noble mind to be mild under injur-
;es, and to return good for evil.
"We have not all good and mild tempers; but
we can try to correct them, and make them so.
Those who have been taught right and wrong, and
do not practise it, will not know what to answer,
when God calls them to give an account' of their
lives. Besides, what a blessing it is to know that
if we are meek, and donot offend God by throwing
ourselves into pasona with each other, that he
will take cae of us ; for our blessed Saviour told
usto be meek and lowly of heat, and th we
should find rest to our souls."

Ah, Caroline," said Robert, while the tears
came into his eyes, "I am very wicked; I have
been in a great passion to-day with Agnes, but I
am very sorry for it now; I will not do so again,
Agnes, indeed, if you will be good friends with
me now." "What I" said Caroline, "is it possi-
ble that you have not forgiven each other yet "
Both looked ashamed. "And would you," she
continued, "have gone to bed angry with each
other supposing one of you had died during the
night, what would the other have felt ? "I am
very sorry," said little Agnes.
They kissed each other, and cried very much;
for what their sister had been saying had several
times made them think how wicked they had been
in giving way to their passions. "But I cannot

-ways stop myself, when I am in a passion said
Robert. "God will help you, if you ask him,"
said Caroline; "and I do hope you will try to re-
member how -rv holy a temper meekness is,
since Mose and our blessed Saviour were famed
for practising it: think of what I have told you,
whenever you are inclined to be revengeful."
In about six months after this, Joseph came to
spend a week at home, and he saw great improve
ment in the tempers of the children. Robert was
kind and obedient; he was happier than before,
because he was not always crying for hi fault, or
fearing their being found out. Agnes gave up,
with good humour, to others; and if any one wu
cross to her, she forgave them directly. When
Joseph again left them, he told them how happy it


made him to see them so much better behaved than
they were, and said to Caroline, "You have suc-
ceeded very well, my dear sister: go on in the
Same way, and-God will less your labours per-
haps to a greater extent than you can now hope


* .... . W...
lwbess xnL M.f


1% .mis m M t harkM dodo -

"M A


IsAsuLL and JserZ CaMXow were twin uistes,
who once loved each other with the tenderest af-
fection. They were born in one hour, had.ban
rocked in the ame cradle, and had nse beea
separated for more than a day, since their birth
The only surviving parent of these children, fa
they had unfortunately lost their mother, placed
then in a good school, kept by a relation of th

own, where they passed several happy years, with-
out any thing happening to disturb the perfect har-
mony that subsisted between them. When Isa-
bella and Jessy were near twelve years of age,
several of their companions were removed to other
seminaries, and their places filled by young ladies
of less advanced years. Among these was one
named Harriet Wells, with whom the twins be-
came very intimate.
In proportion, however, as their friendship in-
creased for the new comer, their regard for each
other declined; for Miss Wells was one of those
characters emphatically styled by Solomon, a
'whi.perer;' and I would strenuously advise all
young people, as they value their own peace and

respectability, to avoid the company of such perm
sons. Words and looks, harmless and innocent
in themselves, could not stand the bar of her criti-
cism. She gave them a turn widely different from
their original signification, and filled the hearts of
her hearers with bitterness and strife.
She did not like to hear the union between the
sisters spoken of with praise, because she di-
agreed with her own; and this envious feeling led
her to endeavour to separate them from each other.
Isabella particularly excelled in music, and she
was kindly anxious that her sister should do the
same; because their father was fond of duets, and
she thought it would give him pleasure to har
thne play together.

One day, after they had been practising a fa
vourite air on the piano, when they were alone,
Harriet said to Isabella, "How nicely you and
Jessy played that tune: you were both in such ex-
act time."
"You praise u more than we deserve, for we
both lost the time; Jesay was a little careless, and
that put me out," replied Inbella.
Upon this light circumstance, the love of the
twin was shipwrecked; for Harriet told Jessy,
under a stric promise of secrecy, that her sister
had citicied her performance in a very unkind
sad umnhada e manner. Jesy was hurt and
asamsed. She expressed herself with some
warmth, and shed many tears. The whiperer

did not fail to repeat thee rash exprewsion to lea
bella, with additions, without, however, relating the
cause that had given rise to them; and these chil-
dren, formerly admired for their mutual agreement,
were now perpetually jarring: A brother offend-
ed," ays Solomon, "is harder to be won than a
city with gates and bars.
The truth of this observation Iabella and Jessy
unhappily proved. They were discontented with
each other, and each thought her love had been
cruelly requited by the other. Sometimes they
were inclined to open their hearts, and say "Why
are we thus T-Why do we not love one another
we ued to dolr But, the, pride repued

these better feelings; and they still remained at
Things continued in this state, till the com-
mencement of the Midsummer holidays, when
the sisters returned to their own home. Formerly,
one of their first employment was to visit the
oak-trees their father had planted on the morning
of their birth; but, now, neither ventured to ap-
proach the spot, because it would have reminded
them of the happy days when they loved each
other with the tenderest affection.
They had made a little garden round their trees,
and to cultivate this plot, had been a very favourite
amusement; and when their light toils were over,

they used to sit under the shade of a little wood-
bine bower, and sing as blithely as the tame robins
near them, and wonder when the sister oaks would
be tall enough to afford them sheer from the umn-
mer sun. These sweet ours of united toil and
repose were over. The twin-sister were sllen
and reserved, each lamenting the change, but each
too proud to confess herself in error.
They no longer came in from the garden with
their amnn entwined around each ohrs necks,
but either kept apart, or bickered whe to
gether. The eye of a parent is shrp-ghted
in those maters that concern the happiess of
his children. Mr. Cameron beheld, with sur-
pri-e and pain, the disaaon batwen Isabela

and Jessy. Tares had sprung up among the
wheat, and threatened to choke the good seed, and
make it wholly unfruitful.
He resolved to learn the true reason of this
sad estrangement, and* calling the two girls to
him, he addressed them thus: My dear chil.
dren, what is the matter with you both Once
you were never happy asunder; though now,
alaal you cannot meet, without jarring in the
most inapmat manner. SpeakI what has oo-
casiand this melancholy change
The twins were silent: they looked eanesy
ad expresively upon one s er, with eye full
of tears.
*You do not answer, my darIlingm coutid

the anxious parent; "but I must learn the truth.
*Isabella, why do you not love Jemy a you used
to do "
Papa, I did love her very much till she aid
unkind things of me behind my back," replied wa-
bella, bursting into tears.
I am sure, Papa," rejoined the weeping Jermy,
I never acted so basely; though Isabella speks
ill of me on every occasion "
"Indeed, papa, I loved Jessy too much to
speak otherwise than afectionately oa her,
cried Isabella; "he, alone, is to be blmed for
our disagreemeatm
"You are both to blame, my dear little emO, fr
leadi an ear to the ealommieme mof whir -

er who has broken the bands of love between you-
those bands that nature entwined from the very-
hour of your birth. Yes, my dear girls, you were
born to love each other, and you did love each
other, till within these lew last months. Surely,
some enemy has sown the seeds of mistrust and
hatred in your bosoms. What whisperer has
separated you Speak, my darlings."
"It was-it was--Harriet Wells who told me
all the cross things my sister said of me," re-
plied Jessy, hesitating between the words, as if
loth to give up her authority. Indeed, papa, I
was very much hurt, that Isabella should speak
of me so."
"Oh I si r, we have bun really decided,"

cried Isabella, "by that naughty irl, for it was
the who told me that you did not love me, and
were always laughing at me, behind my back.
"How foolish we have been to suffer her
stories to disunite us" rejoined Jessy. "Can
you forgive me, Bella, for I think I have been
the most in fault, because I listened to her first
She then related the anecdote about the duet.
Isabella was astonished, and vindicated her-
self from the charge, quite to Jessy's satisfaction.
The twins then embraced, and promised "never
to give ear to any insinuation, from any person,
against each other, again."
"1 hope, my dear children, you will not forget
the experience you have bought at the price of

so many tears," said Mr. Cameron, "and will
never listen to a whisperer again. Be assured
that a true friend would rather conceal any thing
unpleasant from you, than give you pain by re-
peating the matter. Remember our blessed
Saviour's rule: If thy brother has aught against
thee, tell it him alone; it may be, thou shalt gain
thy brother.' Mutual confidence will prevent the
mischief-maker from dividing your friendship,
and, indeed, you owe it to each other." He then
kissed the twins, and left them together.
The stream of fraternal love now flowed in the
same channel a before. The sisters, linked
in each oAer' ams, a in old time ran to


visit their favourite spot; sad never had i
looked so pretty, in their eyes, before.
The flowers looked lovely, gemmed with the
balmy summer showers: the birds sang sweetly
from the green boughs of the young apling oaks;
but the tears of reconciliation looked lovelier
on the face of the twin sisters, the saceta of
affection sounded sweeter-than their songs.
In the solitude and privacy of the bower, the
sister knelt down, and renewed their vows,
before their God; nor were their vows ever
broken. Frma that day, no whisp w ale
to rate the fiMend



on, TH



VU~ ,v.ia is Maso ou km.



"You had better turn that old man out of his
house, if he cannot pay his rent," said a gentle-
man one morning, to Mr. Maitland, who wa
sitting at her desk with sour accounts before her,
in a small parlour, in which were her three cdil.
dren at play. "I cannot, indeed, my good sir,"
answered Mrs. Maitland; he is such a good man,
I could not think of distressing him, though I am
getting very poor." "Well, you must take your

own way," answered the gentleman; but I would
not be ruined by any one, good or bad, if I could
help it."
Soon after these words, the gentleman went
away; and Frances, a little girl of nine years old,
asked her mamma who the old man was, they had
been talking about. "Old Johnson, my dear,"
said her mamma; "in an hour's time, I am going
to see him, and you and Richard may go with me,
but we must leave little Charles at home, it is too
far for him to walk."
Mrs. Maitland had been a widow nearly three
years: her husband had left a small estate, con-
taining some houses, amongst which were several
small cottages; and there having been a great deal
of distress during the previous winter, the poor

people could not pay their rents as usual. The
old man of whom they spoke, was a man who
feared God, and had brought up his family well;
but as they grew up, they had all died, as also had
his wife; and he appeared now only waiting for
his time to come, to die; for he was unable to
work or do any thing for himself. The children
were very fod of him, for he loved them and re
membered their pap, and liked to talk to thd
about him.
Mrs. Maitland frequently took her two edast
children with her to visit the poor, and taught them
to feel for their wants, and to relieve them whea
they could. Richard was nearly eleven, and was
often allowed to go and see poor Johnmon by him-
sel Both Frances and Richard were vry much

pleased by their mamma's proposal this morning,
and were ready long before she was.
When they arrived at the cottage, they found
Johnson reading his Bible; he was very glad to
see them, and soon began to tell Mrs. Maitland
how sorry he was he could not yet pay his rent.
She told him, she knew he would as soon as he
was able, and she would not hurry hint: but that
she had met with some losses, of late, which now
obliged her to look after the rent of the cottages
more closely than she had daoe. Presently, Rich
ard asked him if he could do any kind of work,
now, and if his brother came to see him as he used
to do. God bless you, dear," said old Johnson,
"I am too feeble to work at all, now; sometimes
I have hardly strength to get across the room; and

my brother is an old man too: he used sometimes
to come this way, but he never will come again:
he is very ill. I shall see the last of all my rela-
tions, I am afraid, but, blessed be God's name, I
have a friend here (and he touched his Bible)
which will never forsake me; and I long to die,
my dear young master, that I may be happy ad
at peace?,
Mrs. Maitland did not stay long, and as he
walked home, she said to the children, "How
could I turn that poor old man ot of de l it
would w eem wicked not to comfort him a log as
he lives: would it not, my dears "Ye," id
Richard, "I think God has bleed him; and it
would be like offending God to dutres him, per-
ticularly now that he cannot help himself.

"My dear Richard, your father always was
kind to the poor, especially to those who loved
God," said their mamma; "hi goodness has often
brought to my mind the words of Balaam: 'How
shall I cure, whom God hath not cursed ? or how
shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not defied r for
he made it a point never to be unkind to those who
feared and loved God."
"Mamma, are not thee words in the Bible !
asked Fraces. "Yes, my dear," said her mamma,
Sand thi evening I will describe to you why they
were said. How anxious did thee children feel
for the evening to come; they could just remem-
ber their dear papa, and any thing that related to
him, always delighted them.
At last, the evening came, and they seated tbhem

selves on each side of their mamma, on their own
little stools; and Charlie, as usual, was on her lap,
" Now, mamma, tell us what you promised, if you
please," said Frances; "we are quite ready."
"Well, my love." said Mrs Maitland, "you remem-
ber that the children of Israel, during their journey
from Egypt, passed through many countries, and
had to fight with many people; and the nation
often became jealous of them, because, as God
was with them, they were victorious over their -
enemies. And they came to Moab, and pitched
their tents there; and Balak, the king of Moab,
saw how they had conquered other nation, and he
was afraid of them; so be sent to Balaam, who
was a prophet and asked him to come and curse
Isael; for he added, They e too mighty far me

and I know whom thou blessest, is blessed; and
whom thou cursest, is cursed.'
And when the princes of Moab, that Balak had
sent, came to Balaam, he told them to stay with
them that night, for he must pray to God to know
what he was to do. And he asked God, and God
told him he was not to go, for the people were
blessed. And Balaam told those who were sent
to him what God had said: and they returned to
Balak and told him ; but he sent more princes to
S Balaam, to beg him to come, and to tell him if he
would come and do as he wished, that he would pro-
mote him to great honour, and give him any thing
he shouldask for; but Balaam said, 'If Balak would
give me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot go
beyond the word of the Lord my God, to do less or

more,' So he told them to stay that night, and he
would again ask God what he should do; and God
told him he might go, but the word which he said,
he must speak.
So Balaam went: and Balak went out to meet
him, as soon as he knew he would come, and he
asked him why he had not come before, and if he
did not know that he was able to promote him to
great honour ? And Balsam said, he certainly ws
come, but the word which God told him, that aoly
could he speak. And Balak oered oen and sheep
to Balsam.. And on the morrow, he took Balam
up to a high place, from which he might see the
most of the people of Israel; and Balsam ordered
seven altars to be built, and an offering to be made
on each. And he left Balak. and went a little way

alone; and God met him, and put it into his mind
what to say: when he came back to Balak, there-
fore, he said, How shall I curse, whom God hath
not cursed ? and how shall I defy, whom the Lord
hath not defied ? and he blessed the people of Israel.
And Balak said, 'What hast thou done unto
me ? I took thee to curse mine enemies, and be-
hold thou hast blessed them altogether.' But Ba-
laam reminded him that he had said he could do only
what God had commanded. And Balak then took
him unto another place, where he said he should
see but a part of them, and asked him to defy
them from that place; and again they offered sac-
rif es; and Balaam went again a little way alone,
and God told him what to say.
"When he returned, Balak asked eagerly,

'What hath the Lord spoken ? And Balaam an-
swered, 'Rise up, Balak, and hear: God is not a
man, that he should lie T neither the son of man,
that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he
not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not
make it good ? Behold, I have received command-
ment to bless, and he hath blessed; and I cannot
reverse it. The Lord God is with Israel. He
brought them out of Egypt, and it shall be said of
Jacob and Irael, what hath God wrought Then
Balak said. 'Neither curse them at ll, nor bless
them at all but Balam answered that all tht God
had told him, he must do.
So then Balak took him to another place, say-
ing, 'Perhap God will curse them from thence;
and thee they again offerd sacrime; and Balaam

saw that God was pleased to bless Israel: so he
prophecied of the happiness and blessings of that
people; and concluded by saying, Blessed is he
that bleseth thee, and cursed is he that curseth
And Balak was now very angry, and said he
had sent for Balaam to defy this people, and he
had blessed them every time; therefore he sent
him away in great anger, and even dared to say
this wicked thing against God: I thought to pro-
mote thee to great honour, but lo I the Lord hath
kept thee back from honour: "But,"said Mrs. Mit-
land, could that be called honour, or be worth
having, which was to be obtained by disobeying
God ? To the servant of God there can be no
happinsa or honour in what is without His bles-

.ug, anwever, I will go on with the story:-
When Balak wa so angry, Balaam only answered,
' Did I not say to your messengers, If Balak would
give me his house full of silver and gold, I cannot
go beyond the commandment of the Lord, to do
either good or bad of mine own mind: but what
the Lord saith, that will I speak' And he re
turned to his home, and Balak also went his way
How very fine is Balaum's conduct," continued
Mrs. Mainland; did you notice that each time be-
fore he spoke, he prayed to God, and asked what
he should do You may be sure, my dear children,
that if we really ask God to direct u, he will al-
ways do so; and he will liten to n and answer
us every time we pray to him in an earnest man-
ner. He is never tired of hearing us: nothing

pleases him more than to see us thus trusting and
depending entirely upon him for help and instruc-
"I think mamma," said Richard, "it must be
very delightful to be able to assist and be a com-
fort to God's people." "It certainly is; my dear,"
said his mamma; but do you know who are his
people ?" "The Jews," said Richard. "My dear
boy," said Mrs. Maitland, "they were his chosen
people, but they crucified the Son of God, who
came to save them from their sins; and God has
mercifully permitted us Gentiles who receive
Christ as a Saviour, to be his own people. Chris-
tins are now the favoured people of God
"Can you tell me, Frances, who were the Gen-
tiles "All the people who were not Jews,

mamma, I think," said Frances. "You are right,
my love," said her mamma; "and we ought to
feel it a great blessing that we are allowed to be
of the number of those who may now be called
blessed: we cannot show our gratitude to God in
a more pleasing way than by helping our poor
neighbours. He has said, that what we do to his
servants, he will reward as done to himself; and
all are his servants who love and fear him. Then
is it not a pleasure to comfort or bless those
whom God hath blessed ?
"Thank you, dear mamma," said Frances and
Richard; "this is a beautiful story." And they
kissed their mamma, and went to bed very hppy.






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