Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Edith and her Ayah
 The butterfly
 The penitent
 The reproof
 The vase and the dart
 The jewel
 The storm
 The Sabbath-tree
 The white robe
 The two countries
 Do you love God?
 The imperfect copy
 A story of the Crimea
 "I have a home, a happy home!"
 Back Cover

Title: Edith and her ayah and other stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026948/00001
 Material Information
Title: Edith and her ayah and other stories
Physical Description: 120 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 16 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publication Date: 1873
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1873   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1873
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by A.L.O.E.
General Note: Added title page and frontispiece printed in colors.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026948
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002238800
notis - ALH9324
oclc - 52296744

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Table of Contents
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Edith and her Ayah
        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
    The butterfly
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    The penitent
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
    The reproof
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    The vase and the dart
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    The jewel
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The storm
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    The Sabbath-tree
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    The white robe
        Page 76
        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
    The two countries
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Do you love God?
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
    The imperfect copy
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
    A story of the Crimea
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
    "I have a home, a happy home!"
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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m y Plamnd

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VII. THE STORM, ... ...









... 20

... ... 29

... ... 37

... 40

.. ... 49

... ... 57

... 65

... ... 76

... ... 84

... 93

... ... 102

... ... 106

... ... 112

... 119



MMA.," said little Edith, looking
up from the toys with which she
was playing at the feet of her
S mother "mamma, why does
Motee Ayah never come in to
prayers ? "
Mrs. Tuller was seated at her desk in the
large room of her bungalow (house) in India.
The day was hot; the blazing sun shone
with fiery glare; but the light came into
the room so much softened by green blinds
and half-closed shutters, that the place was
so dark that the lady could scarcely see to
write. The punkah, a kind of huge fan,
moving gently to and fro above her, made a


1"'freshing air which would have sent her
papers fluttering in every direction had not
weights been placed to keep them down.
Mrs. Tuller paused in her writing, but
did not reply to the question asked by her
child regarding her ayah, or native nurse.
"Mamma," said little Edith again, "does
not Motee Ayah love the Lord Jesus? "
"Alas, my child, she does not know
him !"
But will you not teach her, mamma? "
and the fair-haired girl looked up in her
mother's face with such a pleading look in
her soft gray eyes, that, touched by her
interest in the poor heathen, Mrs. Tuller
bent down, kissed fondly the brow of her
child, and whispered, "My love, I will try."
Nor did Mrs. Tuller forget her promise.
Again and again she spoke to Motee of the
Christian's faith and the Christian's God.
It saddened the heart of the lady to feel
that to seek to teach Motee religion was
like trying to write upon water. The ayah
joined her dark hands together, listened, or
seemed to listen, said, "Very good, very
good," to everything that the beebee (lady)


i' "f'' c- ;:"- ,
\' S .- ." -- .


told her, but always returned to her idol, a
hideous little wooden image, and perfoi-med
her poojah (worship) to Vishnu, as if she
had never heard of a purer religion. Mrs.
Tuller grew quite disheartened about her.
Sometimes the lady blamed her own imper-
fect knowledge of the language, and some-
times she felt almost angry with the ayah
for her blindness and hardness of heart.
Poor Motee had been brought up from
infancy amongst idolaters; she had never


been taught truth when a child, and now
error bound her like a chain. Motee had
actually been led to think it honourable to
her family that, many years before, there
had been a suttee in it; that is to say, a
poor young widow had burnt herself with
the dead body of her husband. Happily,
our Government has forbidden suttees-no
widow can thus be burnt now; but still the
cruel heathen religion hurts the bodies as
well as the souls of the Queen's dark sub-
jects in India. Motee's own father had
died on a pilgrimage to what he believed to
be a holy shrine. Travelling on foot for
hundreds of miles under a burning sun, the
poor idolater's strength had given way, and
he had laid himself down by the roadside,
sick, faint, and alone, to die far away from
his home. Poor Motee had never reflected
that the religion which had thus cost the
lives of two of her family could not be a
religion of heavenly love. She worshipped
Vishnu, for she knew no better; and when
her lady spoke to her of the Lord, the ayah
only said to herself, that the God of the
English was not the God of the Hindu, and


that she herself must do what all her fathers
had done.
Mrs. Tuller's words had little power, but
her example and that of her husband were
not without some effect upon the ignorant
ayah. Motee knew that the sahib (master)
who prayed with his family, never used bad
words, nor was unkind to his wife, nor beat
his servants, nor took bribes. Motee knew
that the beebee who read her Bible was
gentle, generous, and kind. The ayah
could not but respect the religion whose
fruits she saw in the lives of her master
and mistress.
But it was not only the lady's words and
the lady's example that were used as means
to draw the poor Hindu to God. Little
Edith had never heard the beautiful saying,
that "the nearest road to any heart is
through heaven," and she would not have
known its meaning if she had heard it, but
the English child had been taught that the
Saviour listens to prayer. Every night and
morning Edith, at her mother's knee, re-
peated the few simple words, "Lord Jesus,
teach me to love thee!" and now, of her


own accord, she added another short prayer.
Mrs. Tuller caught the soft whispered words
from the lips of her darling, "Lord Jesus,
teach poor Motee Ayah to love thee!"
The mother took no outward notice, but
from her heart she added "Amen to the
prayer of her child.
The hot season passed away; the time
had come when Mr. Tuller and his family
could enjoy what is called camp life," and
move from place to place, living not in a
house but a tent. The change was pleasant
to the party, most of all to little Edith.
She delighted in running about and playing
with the goats, pulling the ropes, watching
the black servants taking down the tents,
or in riding on her little white pony.
Edith's cheeks, which during the hot weather
had grown quite thin and pale, became
plump and rosy once more; and merry was
the sound of her childish voice as she gam-
bolled in and out of the tent.
One day, as Edith was playing outside,
near the edge of a jungle or thicket, her
attention was attracted by a beautiful little
fawn, that seemed almost too young to run


about, and which stood timidly gazing at
the child with its soft dark eyes.
Pretty creature, come here," cried Edith,
beckoning with her small white hand; have
you lost your mother, little fawn ? Come
and share my milk and bread,-come, and I
will make you my pet, and love you so
much, pretty fawn "
As all her coaxing could not lure the
timid creature to her side, Edith advanced
towards it. The fawn started back with a
frightened look, and fled into the jungle as
fast as its weak, slender limbs could bear it.
The merry child gave chase, following the
fawn, and calling to it as she ran, pushing
her way as well as she could between the
tall reeds and grass, which were higher than
her own curly head.
Motee soon missed her charge, and quickly
hurried after Edith. So eager, however, was
the child in pursuit of the fawn, that she
was some distance from the tents before the
ayah overtook her.
0 Missee Baba," cried the panting
nurse, "why you run away from your
Motee ?"


I want to catch the pretty fawn ; I want
to take it to mamma; it is too little to be
by itself,-I'm afraid the jackals will get it! "
"I am afraid that the jackals will get
Missee Baba," cried the ayah, catching the
little girl up in her arms. "Missee must
come back to the beebee directly."
Edith was a good little child, and made
no resistance, though she looked wistfully
into the bushes after the fawn, and called
out to it again and again in hopes of luring
it back. Motee attempted to return to the
tents, but did not feel sure of the way,-the
vegetation around grew so high that she
could scarcely see two yards before her.
She walked some steps with Edith in her
arms, then stopped and looked round with
a frightened air.
Motee, why don't you go on ?" asked
0 Missee Baba, we're lost!" cried the
poor Hindu; "lost here in the dreadful
jungle, full of wild beasts and snakes!"
Edith stared at her ayah in alarm, yet at
that moment the little child remembered
her mother's lessons. "Don't be so fright-


ened, Motee," said the fair-haired English
girl; "the Lord Jesus can save us, and
show us the way to mamma."
There was comfort in that thought, which
the poor heathen could not have drawn from
calling on Vishnu and the thousand false
gods which the ignorant Hindus adore.
The little child could feel, as the woman
could not, that even in that lonely jungle a
great and a loving Friend was beside her!
Again Motee tried to find her way, again
she paused in alarm. What was that dread-
ful sound, like a growl, that startled the
ayah, and made her sink on her knees in
terror, clasping all the closer the little girl
in her arms Motee and Edith both turned
to gaze in the direction from which that
dreadful sound had proceeded. What was
their horror on beholding the striped head
of a Bengal tiger above the waving grass !
Motee uttered a terrified scream,-Edith a
cry to the Lord to save her. It seemed
like the instant answer to that cry when
the sharp report of a rifle rang through the
thicket, quickly succeeded by a second; and
the wild beast, mortally wounded, lay roll-


ing and struggling on the earth Edith saw
nothing of what followed; the shock had
been too great for the child; senseless with
terror she lay in the arms of her trembling
ayah !
Edith's father, for it was he whom Provi-
dence had sent to the rescue, bore his little
darling back to the tent, leaving his ser-
vants, who had followed his steps, to bring
in the spoils of the tiger. It was some
time before Edith recovered her senses, and
then an attack of fever ensued. Mrs. Tuller
nursed her daughter with fondest care, and
with scarcely less tenderness and love the
faithful Motee tended the child. The poor
ayah would have given her life to save that
of her little charge.
On the third night after that terrible
adventure in the woods came the crisis of
the fever. Mrs. Tuller, worn out by two
sleepless nights, had been persuaded to go
to rest, and let Motee take her turn of
watching beside the child. The tent was
nearly dark,-but one light burned within
it,-Edith lay in shadow,-the ayah could
not see her face,-a terror came over the


Hindu,-all was so still, she could not hear
any breathing,-could Missee Baba be dead !
Motee during two anxious days had prayed
to all the false gods that she could think of
to make Missee Edith well; but the fever
had not decreased. Now, in the silence of
the night, poor Motee Ayah bethought her
of the English girl's words in the jungle.
Little Edith had said that the Lord could
save them,-and had he not saved from


324) 2

the jaws of the savage tiger?2 Could he
not help them now ? The Hindu knelt be-
side the charpoy (pallet) on which lay the
(324) 2


fair-haired child, put her brown palms to-
gether, bowed her head, and for the first
time in her life breathed a prayer to the
Christian's God : "Lord Jesus, save Mi- .-
"0 Motee! Motee!" cried little Edith,
starting up from the pillow with a cry of
delight, and flinging her white arms round
the neck of the astonished Hindu, "the
Lord has made you love him,-I knew he
would,-for I prayed so hard. And oh,
how I love you, Motee-more than ever I
did before!" The curly head nestled on
the bosom of the ayah, and her dark skin
was wet with the little child's tears of joy.
Edith, a few minutes before, had awoke
refreshed from a long sleep, during which
her fever had passed away. And from that
hour her recovery was speedy; before many
days were over the child was again sporting
about in innocent glee. And from that
night the ayah never prayed to an idol
again. Willing she now was to listen to all
that the beebee could tell of a great and
merciful Lord. Of the skin of the tiger
that the sahib bad slain a rug was made,


which Edith called her praying-carpet. Upon
this, morning and night, the white English
girl and her ayah knelt side by side, and
offered up simple prayers to Him who had
saved them from death. Mrs. Tuller's
words had done less than her example in
drawing a poor wandering soul to God; but
the prayer lisped by her little lamb had had
greater effect than either.
Oh, if, in our dear land, all the little ones
who have no money to give to the mission-
ary cause, who have never even seen an
idolater, would lift up their hands and hearts
to the Lord, saying, Teach the poor heathen
to love thee !" how rich a harvest of bless-
ings would be drawn down by such a prayer
on those who know not the truth, and still
sit in darkness and the shadow of death !

2a-"S. '



SPARTY of boys had been playing
P1-.rA in the fields on a sunny afternoon
; in the bright month of June.
They had been chasing a gay
'W1 butterfly, which, in its uncertain
S flight, had led them over hedge
and ditch, till at last the beautiful prize was
won, and the brilliant insect remained a
helpless prisoner in the hands of its pursuers.
Alas, for the butterfly! A few moments
before so gay and so free, sometimes resting
on a blossom, then fluttering up towards
the sky, its lovely wings were rudely torn
.away, and it lay quivering in the agonies of
death. At this moment Ella Claremont, a
young lady of the village, approached the


party; she had seen the chase and its close,
and looked with regret on the poor mangled
butterfly. Why did you not let it live ? "
said she; "it had never harmed you, and it


was so happy. You easily took away its
little life," she added; "but could any of
y'ou, could any power on earth, give that
life back again ?"


The boys looked one upon another, and
were silent, till the eldest of them, Giles,
replied, I am sorry that I killed it, but I
did not know that there was any harm."
"Surely," said Ella, in a very gentle
voice, "in a world where there is so much
pain, one would be sorry to add, even in the
least degree, to the amount of it. There is
another feeling," continued she, that should
make us merciful to every creature; we
should look upon it as one of the wonderful
works of God."
"Why," said Anthony, "a butterfly is
only a caterpillar after it has wings."
"True; but what human skill could form
a caterpillar! It has been calculated that
in a single caterpillar there are sixty thou-
sand muscles !"
An exclamation of astonishment burst
from the boys.
They must be finer than spiders' threads,"
cried Giles.
"I daresay," replied the lady, "that you
are not aware that each separate spider's
thread is said to be formed of about three
thousand joined together."


"The world seems full of wonders," ex-
claimed little Robert.
It is indeed; the more we search into
God's works, the more wisdom and skill do
we behold."
I'll not kill a butterfly again," said Giles.
"I never see one fluttering in the sun,"
continued Ella, without thinking of those
lines :-
Thou hast burst from thy prison,
Bright child of the air!
Like a spirit just risen
From its mansion of care "
"That sounds very pretty," said Giles;
"but I don't understand it."
It is not very difficult to explain," re-
plied Ella. "The butterfly teaches us a
joyful lesson; it is what is called a type of
immortality You see the lowly caterpillar
crawling over a leaf,-it cannot raise itself
towards the sky,-it cannot leave the earth;
in this it is like what we are now. Then, as
you know, it seems to die; it is wrapped up
in its little covering, and there it lies with-
out motion or feeling-that is like what we
must be."
"Ah I see; when we are in our coffins,


dead and buried," cried Robert. But the
bright butterfly soon bursts from the dark
case, and we do not rise from our graves."
We shall," replied Ella earnestly; "we
all shall rise again. No longer prisoners
bound to earth, no longer creeping on amidst
trials and sorrows, but free, happy, glorious,
shining in the beams of the Sun of Right-
eousness. 'For the trumpet shall sound, and
the dead shall be raised' (1 Cor. xv. 52).
Why should we fear death-why should we
dread being laid in the cold tomb ? When
we think of the hope set before us, well may
we cry, death, where is thy sting ?
grave, where is thy victory?'" (1 Cor. xv. 55).
There was a deep silence for a few mo-
ments; nothing was heard but the song of a
lark high overhead, as it soared towards the
Then Giles spoke in a tone of awe, Will
all rise again ?"
"Yes, all."
"Will all rise to be free, and happy, and
glorious ? "
"Alas, no !" replied Ella.
How can we tell," continued the boy,


after a little hesitation, "whether we shall
be among the happy ones ?"
"There will be but two classes then," said
Ella, "as there are but two classes amongst
those called Christians now. We may divide
all who have heard of a Saviour into those
who love God, and those who love sin. Those
who love sin will awake to misery; those
who love God will awake to glory."
But," said the boy anxiously, "there
may be some who love God and really try
to obey him, and yet sin sometimes."
"All sin sometimes," replied Ella. "There
is not one human being free from sin."
"Then," said Giles, "I should be afraid
that, when the trumpet sounded, my sins
would be like chains, and keep me down, so
that I could not rise."
Every eye was turned towards Ella; every
ear anxiously listened for her reply; for
every young heart was conscious of some
sin, and felt the difficulty which Giles had
"It would have been so," replied Ella,
"had not the Saviour died for sinners like
us. His blood washes us quite clean from


all guilt-that is, if we really believe on him
and love him. Let us look upon our sins as
chains now, and struggle hard to burst them,
and pray for grace to help us: then, if we
are Christ's people, we shall rise joyfully in
that great day when 'the Lord himself shall
descend from heaven with a shout, with the
voice of the archangel, and with the trump
of God'" (1 Thess. iv. 16).
I think," said Giles, after a pause, "that
sins are like chains, and very hard to break
too. There is temper, now! I know that
I've a bad temper; I determine over and
over again that I will get rid of it; but the
harder I struggle, the tighter the chain
seems to grow."
And mother is trying to cure me of say-
ing bad words," cried little Robert; "but
it's no use-they will come; I say them
when I'm not thinking about it."
Have you tried prayer ?" inquired Ella.
"Do you not know the precious promises,
'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of
God, that giveth to all men liberally, and
upbraideth not; and it shall be given him'
(James i. 5). 'Ask, and it shall be given


you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it
shall be opened unto you' (Luke xi. 9).
These words have often been such a comfort
to me, when I felt how heavy my chain
was, and how weak my efforts to get rid of
it. And now, my young friends, I must
leave you; will you think over what I have
"Yes, miss, and thank you for it," said
Giles, touching his cap.
Ella paused as she was turning to depart,
and gazed upon the sky, all bright with the
evening sun, setting amidst clouds of crimson
and gold.
"How glorious !" she cried, "how beauti-
ful that work of God! He, too, speaks of
the resurrection; he sinks to rise again !

'Just so is the Christian; his course he begins,
Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins.
Then all in a moment he breaks out and shines,
And travels his heavenly way.
'And when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like a fine setting sun, he grows richer in grace,
And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days,
Of rising in brighter array !'

"Farewell, my children. Whether we
shall see each other again on this earth,


who shall dare to say ? But we shall meet
again when the last trumpet sounds, and
the dead hear the Saviour's voice, and the
saints awake in his likeness. Let us live
now as those who are waiting for the Lord,
and who long for the hour of his appear-
Oh when through earth, and sea, and skies,
Th' archangel's final summons flies,
May we, through Christ, immortal rise
Towards a heavenly home !

They who together life have trod,
May they together burst the sod,
And glorious rise to meet their God !
Come, Jesus, Saviour, come !"

'.*".,-* ^


* HAT is the matter with you,
Charley ?" said George Mayne, as
; he returned home from the factory,
,, and found his little brother cry-
ing violently on the door-step.
"What has vexed you, Charley, my boy? "
Oh, my father will never forgive me,"
sobbed the child.
"I cannot think that, he is so good and
so kind. Come, dry up your tears, and tell
me what has happened; perhaps I may be
able to help you out of your trouble."
It was some time before, soothed by the
kindness of his brother, the boy became
calm enough to explain the cause of his



grief. With a voice half choked with tears
he began: Father had sent me to pay the
baker-he had given me a half-crown to do


it-he had trusted me; and now it is all-all
gone Oh, father will never forgive me!"
and he burst into a fresh agony of sorrow.
"You lost the money, did you? Well,
father can ill afford it, but he will forgive
you for an accident, I am sure."
But it was not an accident, that is the
worst of it! You see, I met Jack and Ben;
they were playing at pitch-farthing, and
they called to me to join them."
"But father has forbidden us to keep
company with those idle boys."
I know it-but I disobeyed him-I was
very wrong-and I am very miserable."
"I hope that you did not join the game?"
"Not at first-I told them that I had
given father my solemn promise never to
gamble; but they jeered me, and laughed at
me-and I played with them-and they got
all my money from me-the half-crown that
was not mine, with which I had been trusted.
Oh, father will never forgive me!"
"Now, Charley, do you know what I
advise you to do ?" said George. Go to
father at once, confess your fault to him, let
Anot one sin lead you to another."


Confess to him !-I dare not."
"I will go with you, Charley; I will
plead for you."
"But father is so poor; he will be in
debt, and he cannot bear that! He will be
so angry. Oh, cannot I say that some one
snatched the half-crown out of my hand?"
Charley, Charley!" cried his brother,
almost sternly, "the Evil One is tempting
you. He has gained one victory over you;
would you be his slave entirely? Pray to
God for strength to struggle against this
temptation: remember that liars have no
place in heaven. I will plead for you, I say;
and as for the money, I have been saving up
pence for the last six months to buy a par-
ticular book which I have much wished to
have-I have just enough of money, and I
will pay the debt."
0 George, how good you are! But if
the debt is paid, need I confess ? "
Yes; you have not only lost the money,
but broken father's command, and broken
your own promise. Hide nothing. Take
my hand, Charley, and come with me at
once; every moment that we delay doing


what is right, we add to the difficulty of
doing it."
So hand in hand the two brothers ap-
peared before their father, who was resting
himself after a hard day's work. George
encouraged poor Charley to confess his
fault; he entreated forgiveness for the
offender ; he placed in the hand of his father
his own hard-earned savings. The parent
opened his arms, and pressed both his sons
to his heart! Then making Charley sit
down beside him, the good man thus
addressed his repentant child:-
I forgive you, my boy, for the sake of
your brother; but there is another Friend
whom you have offended, whose command-
ment you have broken, whose forgiveness
you must seek."
"I know that I have sinned against
God," said Charley sadly.
"And for whose sake do you hope to be
forgiven ? "
Charley looked up in the face of his
father, and replied, I hope for forgiveness
for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ."
"And if you are grateful to an earthly
(824) 3


brother for pitying you, and pleading for
you, and paying your debt, how can you be
thankful enough to that heavenly Saviour
who shed his own blood to win for you a
free pardon, and who now is pleading for
you at the right hand of God? "
Charley was silent, but his eyes filled
with tears.
"And now, George, my boy, bring me
the Bible," said his father; "it is time for
our evening reading."
"What part shall I read?" inquired
George, reverently opening the sacred book.
Oh, let him read of some one who had
sinned and was forgiven!" said poor Charley.
At his father's look of assent, George
turned to the touching story of the woman
who, weeping and penitent, sought for
mercy from the Saviour, and found it.
Behold, a woman in the city, which was
a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at
meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an
alabaster-box of ointment, and stood at his
feet behind him weeping, and began to wash
his feet with tears, and did wipe them with
the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet,


and anointed them with the ointment.
Now when the Pharisee which had bidden
him saw it, he spake within himself, saying,
This man, if he were a prophet, would have
known who and what manner of woman this
is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner.
And Jesus answering, said unto him, Simon,
I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he
saith, Master, say on. There was a certain
creditor which had two debtors; the one
owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty.
And when they had nothing to pay, he
frankly forgave them both. Tell me, there-
fore, which of them will love him most?
Simon answered and said, I suppose that he
to whom he forgave most. And he said
unto him, Thou hast rightly judged. And
he turned to the woman, and said unto
Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered
into thine house, thou gavest me no water
for my feet: but she hath washed my feet
with tears, and wiped them with the hairs
of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but
this woman, since the time I came in, hath
not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with
oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman


hath anointed my feet with ointment.
Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which
are many, are forgiven; for she loved much:
but to whom little is forgiven, the same
loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy
sins are forgiven" (Luke vii. 37-48).


LADY and her young daughter
were travelling by train. Two
gentlemen occupied seats in the
same carriage, and presently en-
tered into conversation with each
other. Their language was such
as pained their fellow-traveller to hear.
The sacred name of the Deity lightly
uttered, the profane oath on their lips,
showed how little they regarded that solemn
warning, For every idle word that men
shall speak, they shall give an account in the
day of judgment." Fearful of uttering her
thoughts to the strangers, the lady turned
to her daughter, who, after having shown


the fidgety restlessness common to children
upon a journey, now sat still with open eyes
and ears, a wondering listener to the conver-


Anxious to divert the attention of Adine,
the lady pointed out to her various objects
on the road, and then proceeded to repeat
anecdote after anecdote from the funds of a
well-stocked memory. Adine was soon all
attention; and at last even the gentlemen,
having worn out their own subject of con-


versation, paused to listen to the mother
entertaining her child.
"Did I ever tell you the story of a great
king," said the lady, "who once overheard
two of his courtiers speaking in a way
greatly to displease him ? He gently drew
back the curtains of his tent, and uttered
this quiet reproof: Remove a little further,
gentlemen, for your king hears you !'
"Adine," continued the mother, with a
flushed cheek and beating heart, for she
wished, yet feared, to make her lesson plain
to the older listeners, "may not some people
yet need such a reproof ?"
It would be of no use, mamma," replied
the child simply; "for, let us remove as far
as we can, our heavenly King always hears
There was not another oath uttered during
the remainder of that journey; the lesson
had not been given in vain.

_..k l_ i '.l.


1iT at school again, Harry?" said the
teacher, Willy Thorn, as he seated
-mp,-. himself in the little parlour of
\' Widow Brown, and regarded with
a kind but almost sad countenance
the flushed face of her grandson. You
have not been with us for a month, Harry,
and I fear that you never go to church. I
had hoped better things of you, my boy."
It's all from the bad company that he
gets into," said the widow, taking off her
spectacles and wiping the glasses. He is
a good lad at heart, sir; but you see as how
he has no firmness-he can't say No. Harry
intends to do well one hour, and forgets all


about it the next; but I'll be bound you'll
see him at school and at church too, some
day or other."
He knows not how long he may have
the opportunity of doing either. Remember,
Harry, the fate of your young companion,
Sam Porter, hurried in one instant into
eternity-not one moment given him to
repent, to call on his Saviour!-all his
opportunities past for ever !"
Harry sighed and looked down.
Well, my boy," said Thorn, more cheer-
fully, "if you have made good resolutions
and broken them a hundred times, try again;
try with faith and prayer, and God may
give you the victory yet! I heard a little
allegory to-day. I thought that it might
interest, and perhaps benefit you; so, as it
is too dark at present for reading, I will
repeat it to you, if Mrs. Brown would like
to hear it."
"I am quite agreeable," said the old
woman, leaning back in her arm-chair.
What is an allegory ?" inquired Harry.
Real truths shown in fiction. You will
understand better what an allegory is when


you have listened to this. It is called the
story of

"A young boy entered a beautiful garden,
which extended as far as the eye could
reach. Through the whole length of it
stretched a narrow avenue, bordered with
overhanging trees. Slowly the boy pursued
his way along it, listening to the songs of
the birds, and admiring the green foliage
above him, through which, here and there,
streamed the rays of the glorious sun. He
quickly perceived that he was not alone; on
either side, all down the long avenue, stood
a line of maidens, beautiful to behold. They
were all robed in white, with wreaths of
fresh flowers on their heads, and greeted the
boy with a bright smile of welcome. Each
held in her right hand a vase of gold, in her
left a sharp iron dart."
"I do not understand this allegory at
all," said Harry. Did any one ever see
such maidens as these?"
"These maidens," replied Thorn, "are
well known to all-they are called Oppor-



tunities. Who has not met with oppor-
tunities of doing good, opportunities of re-
ceiving good ?"
I see, sir. Pray go on."
As the boy approached the first maiden,
she held out her vase to him, and invited
him to take the contents. On the golden
vase appeared the word PRAYER, and the
sweetest, fairest fruits were heaped up with-


in it; but the boy scarcely glanced at the
proffered gift. 'It is wearisome !' he cried;
so pushed it aside and passed on."
Opportunity for prayer !" cried old Mrs.
Brown. "Ah, sir, who can count how
many times we have pushed that away from
us God forgive us !"
The boy sauntered on," resumed Willy
Thorn, "and soon another fair maiden stood
before him: she also held forth a vase of
bright gold, full of pieces of glittering silver.
On it was inscribed the word KNOWLEDGE."
Here is the opportunity of gaining learn-
ing at school," said Mrs. Brown, who was
an intelligent old woman, and had read a
good deal in her youth.
"But the boy scarcely glanced at the
proffered gift. 'It is troublesome!' he
cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.
A short space further on another maiden
stopped him, with a bright and joyous coun-
tenance. Her gold vase contained the love-
liest flowers, and on it appeared written, ACTS
OF KINDNESS TO OTHERS. The boy looked at
it wistfully for a moment, tempted by the
sweet perfume of the beautiful blossoms.


Opportunity smiled, but selfishness stayed the
hand of the boy, half stretched out to empty
the vase: he pushed it aside and passed on.
The next maiden who greeted him was
calm and fair, with a grave and earnest look.
Her vase was full of refined gold, and this
was the motto which it bore: ATTENDANCE
AT THE HOUSE OF GOD. A sound of church-
bells came on the breeze, and the sweet
music of a distant hymn; but in vain they
fell on the boy's listening ear. 'It is dull!'
he cried; pushed the rich vase aside, and
passed on."
"But you said, sir," observed Harry,
"that the maidens held darts in their left
hands, as well as vases in their right. What
do you mean by them ? "
"You shall hear before I end my story.
So the boy reached another maiden, who
looked like an angel from heaven. Her
eyes shone like stars in the calm blue sky,
and the tones of her voice thrilled deep into
the heart. Her vase was overflowing with
sparkling jewels, brighter than those which
monarchs wear. On it shone in glittering
letters, THE WORD OF GOD."


Oh, I hope that he put out his hand
and took that! cried the aged woman, rest-
ing hers on her Bible.
Opportunity cried, Oh, pass me not by !
Search the Scriptures, that can make you wise
unto salvation.' She held forth her vase
with imploring look, but the boy was intent
on pursuing his way. 'I care not for it!'
he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on."
"Well, he might have the same oppor-
tunity of reading the Bible again and again,"
said Harry.
"Not the same," replied Willy Thorn;
"the boy could not retrace one step of his
way. No moment of time can ever be
recalled. Every opportunity of doing good
once past, whatever others may arise, that
opportunity is past for ever!
I shall meet with more maidens,' said
the boy. 'I see an endless number before
me; doubtless they carry vases as precious
as those which I have rejected.' But even
as he spoke the words, he came suddenly on
a black iron gate, and he could pass on no
further. Shuddering, he read on the gate
the solemn word, DEATH !


"Then would he gladly have turned
round: then would he have earnestly asked
for one more opportunity for prayer-one
more pl.riilniti, of doing what is right;
but the last had been passed-he had slighted
the treasure of the last! Nor can we
despise opportunities, and not suffer for
doing so; if they offer the vase, they also
carry the punishment meet for those who
neglect its contents. As the boy stood
trembling at the gate of Death, a dart came
hissing through the air, and inflicted on him
a burning wound: then came another and
another; every opportunity despised sent
its messenger of vengeance, and the wretched
boy, writhing with the arrows of conscience
in his soul, sank down at the gate, and
"Alas!" cried Harry, "where can I then
find safety, for I have neglected more oppor-
tunities than I can number of doing good
and receiving good "
"Ask the Lord for pardon through the
blood of the Saviour!" exclaimed Thorn.
" Now is the accepted time, now is the day
of salvation;' neglect not this opportunity-


it may be your last! 0 my young friend!
no day leaves you as it found you; every
day brings its opportunities of prayer, praise,
reading the Bible, and obeying God's laws;
every day you have chosen either the vase
or the dart."
Dear reader, to you would I address a
few words. If this little story has raised
the thought in your heart, How have I
improved my opportunities ?" oh, push it
not aside and pass on! Let not the day
close without prayer; seize the golden prize.
while yet it is offered to you, or hope not
to escape the dart!


S a lady was walking across Hyde
Park, rather early in the day, she
happened to take her handkerchief
out of her pocket, and drew out
with it, by accident, a little red case.
It fell on the path, and rolled almost
to the feet of a poor girl who was standing
near. The child was clad in rags, her hair
was rough, her face and hands dirty; she
was one who had no one to care for her, no
one to teach her what was right. Half
eager, half afraid, she stretched out her
hand to seize the prize, but first turned
round to see that she was not observed, and
met the eye of the lady.
(324) A


"Stop!" said Mrs. Claremont, who had
heard the case drop on the ground; "stop,
little girl, you are in danger of losing some-
thing and while the astonished Ann knew
not what could possibly be meant by such
strange words, the lady quietly stooped down
and picked up the case herself.
She then again addressed the child; her
manner was not angry, but calm and kind,
and Ann, notwithstanding her fear and
shame, felt a pleasure in listening to so gentle
a voice.
"Come beside me while I rest on this
bench," said Mrs. Claremont, "and tell me
what I meant, when I said that you were in
danger of losing something."
Ann only stared at her, and made no
Do you know that you have a soul? "
I know nothing about it," muttered the
"Then," said Mrs. Claremont, "I will
show you what you were going to take, and
explain to you what you were in danger of
I've got nothing to lose," thought Ann,


but she watched the lady with some curi-
"You see," continued Mrs. Claremont,
"this little red case. It has nothing fine

about it,-it looks old and worn. Did you
think it worth stealing ?"
I thought there was something in it."
"You thought right; the most precious
part is within. So it is with you, and all
people, my child. Your body, which can be


seen and felt, is like the case of the jewel;
your soul is the jewel itself."
"What is a soul ?" said Ann.
"When I speak to you, you think of what
I say-the part of you that thinks is the
soul; if any were kind to you, you would
love them-the part that loves is the soul.
You can see that tree; it lives, but it has no
soul in it, it cannot love or think. Do you
understand me now ?"
"Yes," answered the girl.
"You cannot see this jewel, because the
,case is shut; I am going to open the case,
and show it to you."
Mrs. Claremont unclosed the little case,
and Ann beheld a very beautiful jewel, which
sparkled like a star in the rays of the sun.
This jewel was given to my great-grand-
mother on her marriage," said Mrs. Clare-
"Oh, how bright and fine it is!" cried
Ann; "it does not look at all old !"
It will never look old. When I and my
children's children are in their graves, it will
look beautiful and fresh as ever And so it
is with the soul. Our bodies must be laid


in the tomb, but our souls-those jewels
within-will never, never die !"
"Where will they be when our bodies are
dead?" asked Ann.
"Either in happiness or in misery, ac-
cording as we have been God's faithful
people here or not," replied Mrs. Claremont.
"Now tell me, my poor child, for which
should we care most,-the case or the jewel,
the body or the soul ? "
"The soul," answered Ann.
"And it was your soul which you were
putting in danger even now; for sin is the
ruin of the soul. It is written in God's
Word, 'What shall it profit a man if he
gain the whole world and lose his own soul,
or what shall a man give in exchange for his
soul ?' To procure a few more comforts for
your weak perishing body, would you throw
away the precious jewel within ?"
Ann looked at the lady very sadly, and
then replied, "No one ever spoke to me in
this way before; no one cares for my soul !"
"0 my child, there is One who cares
for it, One to whom it is very precious!
The Lord Jesus Christ left the glory of


heaven to come and save poor souls. He
bought yours with his life's blood. He
died on the cross, that it might shine for
ever in glory "
"Does the Lord really care for me? in-
quired Ann anxiously. "Why, then, am I
so wretched and so poor ?"
"He does care for you; he does love
you; you are precious to him. And as for
being poor and wretched-look again at this
beautiful jewel, and tell me where you think
that it came from first."
"I cannot tell."
"It came from the dust,-it was dug from
the dark earth. It had no great beauty
then; those who did not know its real value
would have despised and thrown it away;
but there were those who knew that it was
precious. So we too belong to the dust,
fallen sinful creatures; and we would have
lain there for ever, had not the Lord had pity
upon us and raised us, and brought us into
the sunlight of his gospel."
If the jewel was not bright at first, what
makes it so bright now ?" inquired Ann.
It has been cut and polished, and so it is


with our souls. God sends them poverty or
trials here, to prepare them to shine in his
palace above If the jewel had been a living
thing it would not have liked to have been
cut, but it would never have been bright
without it."
I should like to know more about the
Lord who cares for my soul, and bought it
with his blood," sighed Ann.
"Have you a Bible or Testament, my
No, ma'am."
"Can you read ?"
"No," said Ann sadly.
There is a Ragged School near, to which
you might go and be taught, and hear about
the Lord Jesus, and what he has done for
your soul."
I know where the school is," said Ann.
Go, then, and you will be made welcome,
my poor little friend. I do not remain in
London myself, but I will leave with the
teacher some clothes, and a beautiful Bible,
which shall be yours as soon as you can
read it."
"Thank you, ma'am," said the girl.


"And one little word before we part,
perhaps never to meet again in this world,"
continued Mrs. Claremont. If you cannot
read you can pray-have you ever prayed to
God ?"
"Never," replied Ann.
"Your soul can never be safe until you do.
Kneel down, morning and evening, and at
least repeat these few words: '0 Lord, for-
give my sins, and make my heart clean by
thy Spirit, for Jesus Christ's sake.' So short
a prayer you can remember, can you not, if I
repeat it over to you two or three times ?"
"I think so," said Ann.
"Pray with your whole heart, my child,
and God, for the sake of the Saviour, will
hear and bless you. Love him who first
loved you, believe in his mercy, and obey
his holy commandments. Then what matter
if for a few years, or months, or days, you
be called upon to wait or suffer here ? Death
will soon unclose the worn-out case, and
remove the precious jewel to that glorious
place where tears shall be wiped from every
eye, and sorrow and sighing shall flee for ever



LITTLE vessel was floating over
the Sea of Tiberias; the Lord
Jesus and his disciples were within
it. And there arose a great
storm of wind, and the waves beat
into the ship, so that it was now
full. And Jesus was in the hinder part of
the ship, asleep on a pillow; and they awake
him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not
that we perish ? And he arose, and rebuked
the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be
still! And the wind ceased, and there was
a great calm (Mark iv. 37-39). The toss-
ing waves sank down at his word, and the
obedient waters lay like a sheet of glass,


reflecting the blue sky above! "And he
said unto his disciples, Why are ye so fearful?
how is it that ye have no faith ? And they
feared exceedingly, and said one to another,
What manner of Man is this, that even the
wind and the sea obey him ?" (Mark iv.)
Dear little reader, are you in trouble or
temptation ? Then are you like the disciples
on the stormy Sea of Tiberias. Perhaps
your relations are harsh and unkind, or
perhaps you are a poor orphan without a
friend in the world, and are ready to say,
"No man careth for my soul!" But you
have one Friend, a powerful Friend, a loving
Friend, who has led you on your voyage
through life until now, and will lead you to
the end! The Lord Jesus is beside you,
though you see him not. Hear what he says
to those who love him : Can a woman forget
her sucking child! yea, they may forget, yet
will I not forget thee (Isa. xlix. 15).
Or are you in great poverty, hungry and
weary? You can scarcely earn your daily
bread, you have no comfort, no rest, no home!
In the bitterness of your heart, you cry,
"Lord, carest thou not that we perish ?" 0


my child, the Saviour is not asleep! He
knows your trials, he has felt them all-the
Lord of heaven and earth once "had not
where to lay his head !" Behold, the eye of
the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon
them that hope in his mercy; to deliver their
soul from death, and to keep them alive in
famine (Ps. xxxiii. 18, 19). Many are the
afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord
delivereth him out of them all (Ps. xxxiv. 19).
Ask the Lord to help you, to feed you, to
comfort you, above all, to give you his Holy
Spirit; for if we love and trust in him, then
our light affiction, which is but for a moment,
worketh for us a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory. Then the rough
wind of trouble will but bring you on more
quickly towards heaven, and even here below
Jesus may bid the waves of affliction be still,
and there shall be a great calm!
Or are you in the storm of temptation ?
You wish to please God, you wish to go to
heaven, but you feel as though the way were
too hard for you. You think, "I cannot
resist that temptation; I can give up all but
that one sin. If I do not join my com-


panions in what is wrong, I shall be despised;
if I do not tell such a falsehood, I shall be
beaten; if I do not work or sell on Sundays,
I- shall be starved!" In such a storm of
temptation turn to the Saviour still; for in
that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he
is able to succour them that are tempted (Heb.
ii. 18). Cry, "Lord, save me or I perish!
Give me thy Holy Spirit, that I may be
ready to follow thee through trouble and
temptation. Whatever I may suffer here,
oh, keep me faithful to thee "
Think on this one great truth, dear reader.
The comfort of the voyage matters little in
comparison to the place where we are going.
The voyage of life cannot last very long;
the fiercest storm must soon pass away!
Look at these two different passengers, and
think which of them you would pity.
See one vessel bounding gaily over the
bright water, the wind in her favour, the sun
shining upon her; and look at that man on
her deck! He is a slave; he is going to
suffering and misery, he dreads to arrive at
the port. Do you not pity him ? Yet his
case is happy compared with that of those


who forget God--who, caring but for plea-
sure, living only for this world, are yet hurry-
ing on to death-and after death thejudgment!
Poor slaves of sin do they not know that-

"The greatest evil we can fear,
Is to possess our portion here !"


Now look at this other man in a storm-
tossed vessel! He is going home. He is
going to riches, and honour, and happiness,
and home! Though the waves rise high,


they will not overwhelm him; though the
clouds are so dark, there is a sunshine in his
heart! On the shore he knows that all will
be peace, and he can smile in the midst of
the storm! Do you pity him? But far
happier is the Christian, however afflicted
here; for his heart, and his hopes, and his
home, are in heaven, and he is on his way to
God His sins forgiven through the blood
of his Saviour, his courage supported by the
power of God's grace Blessed is the man
that endureth temptation: for when he is tried,
he shall receive the crown of life, which the
Lord hath promised to them that love him!
(James i. 12).
Think of those who have already landed
on the happy shore, but not till they had
passed through the storm. There are saints
who have suffered, and martyrs who have
died for the Lord They do not wish now
that their trials had been less;-sweet is to
them the remembrance of the storm When
holy St. John, banished to Patmos for the
sake of the gospel, saw heaven opened, and
its glory appearing, what did he behold there ?
These are his words :-


"After this I beheld, and, lo, a great
multitude, which no man could number, of
all nations, and kindreds, and people, and
tongues, stood before the throne, and before
the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and
palms in their hands. And one of the elders
answered, saying unto me, What are these
which are arrayed in white robes ? and
whence came they? And I said unto him,
Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me,
These are they which came out of great
tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the
Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne
of God, and serve him day and night in his
temple: and he that sitteth on the throne
shall dwell among them. They shall hunger
no more, neither thirst any more; neither
shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.
For the Lamb which is in the midst of the
throne shall feed them, and shall lead them
unto living fountains of waters: and God
shall wipe away all tears from their eyes"
(Rev. vii. 9, 13-17).

" Lord, carest thou not that we perish I"
How oft is the cry of despair,


When affliction's waves roll,
And the agonized soul
Scarce can utter its anguish in prayer !

Yet the Saviour is watching beside us,
His eye cannot slumber nor sleep;
The bark which he guides,
Where his presence abides,
Can never be wrecked on the deep I

Oh how soon would our inward fears vanish,
Our souls smile at perils without,
Could we hear his mild love
Thus our terrors reprove,-
Ye of little faith, why did you doubt!"

Lord, make us trust ever in thee,
Though our frail bark by tempests be driven;
Till thy sovereign will
Bid the rude waves be still I "
And we rest in the haven of heaven I

-\u '



Twas on a bright Sunday afternoon
that the teacher, Willy Thorn, on
returning from church, met three of
his scholars sauntering towards one
of the London parks. They per-
ceived his approach at some little distance,
and instantly began to conceal in their
pockets something that they had been carry-
ing in their hands. Their nearness to a very
tempting stall, upon which fruit and sweet-
meats were sold, made Willy guess too truly
the cause of the hasty movement. He
thought it better, however, at first to take
no apparent notice of the fact that the
boys had been breaking the Fourth Com-
(324) 5


mandment by buying upon God's holy
"Well, my lads," said Thorn, when he
came up to them, "you are going, I see
towards the park. I will go with you; we
will enjoy the fresh air and bright sun-
shine together, and perhaps have a little
discourse, which may be profitable as well
as pleasant."
The boys were usually very fond of the
society of Willy Thorn; but just now, with
their pockets full of cakes and nuts, they
would have preferred being without it.
However, no objection was made; they
reached the park, and seated themselves
under the shade of a large tree, for the sun
was hot, and the shelter of the foliage was
pleasant on that sultry afternoon.
Willy Thorn looked upwards at the leafy
boughs which hung above him, through
whose screen a long bright ray, here and
there, pierced like a diamond lance. "This
tree has put an allegory into my mind," said
he. "Boys, are you in the mood for a
story ?"
A story was always welcome, and in the


expectation of being amused, the scholars
half forgot that their teacher's presence was
delaying their intended feast.
"Methought," began Thorn, "that I had
a dream; and in my dream I beheld a large
and venerable tree. It was several thousand
years old-so you may imagine its size; but
it showed no signs of age; its leaves were
as fresh, its fruit as abundant, as when the
Israelites of old encamped under its refresh-
ing shade. This tree was called the SAB-
BATH-TREE. It was given by its Lord as one
of the richest blessings which was ever be-
stowed upon man. Freely might all partake
of its fruit; but all were forbidden by a
voice Divine to break even the smallest
bough from the sacred tree.
I saw in my dream that many thronged
to the spot where the Sabbath-tree rose, like
a beautiful green temple, in the midst of the
plain; and I stood aside to mark the effect
of its fruit on those who came to gather it.
It strewed the ground in some places so
thickly, that it shone like a carpet of gold."
"I suppose," said Bat Nayland, one of
the boys, "that the fruits of the Sabbath-


tree are,-going to church, praying, praising,
and reading the Bible ?"
Thorn smiled in assent, and continued:
" I saw one haggard man come, faint with
hunger, to the spot. He threw himself
down on the soft grass, and fed eagerly on
the nourishment freely provided. And I
marked joy on his pale face as he ate of the
fruit of the Sabbath-tree, and I remembered
the holy words, Blessed are they which do
hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they
shall be filled.
"I saw an aged woman reach the tree.
She was so feeble that she had hardly power
to stoop to gather the fruit; but as she
tasted it, her strength returned, her bent
form became more erect, she walked with a
firmer step, and I remembered that it is
written, They that wait upon the Lord shall
renew their strength.
"Next, a miserable sufferer approached;
on his countenance was an expression of
pain. He was sick-grievously sick of the
malady of sin, fatal to all who cannot find a
cure. But he knew the healing powers of
the tree. He fed, and even as he fed health


returned to his faded cheek, the anguish of
his soul passed away, and the sufferer found
himself whole."
"I thought," said the eldest of the boys,
"that there was but one cure for sin !"
"True, most true," replied Thorn, with an
approving look; "but in due observance of
Sabbath duties, we learn how to seek and
where to find that cure.
"I had watched in my dream, with a
rejoicing heart, thousands gathering the
precious fruit, and receiving nourishment,
strength, and healing; but now, alas! my
attention was attracted by yet greater multi-
tudes, who thronged to the spot only, as I
became painfully aware, to break and injure
the beautiful tree. Some enemy had hung
up a hatchet on its trunk, with Disobedience
marked on the handle, and of this numbers
made very free use to cut down large boughs
from the tree.
"' I am going on a jovial merry-making
in the country,' cried one; 'I and my family
shall have a treat. I want some wood to
mend up my broken car.'
"'Hold!' exclaimed the youth who had


been healed, attempting to stay the hand of
the Sabbath-breaker; 'are there not six
groves nigh at hand ?-had you not better
cut what you want from them ?'
"' No !' cried the man impatiently, swing-
ing the hatchet aloft; 'there is no tree so
convenient as this!' and for the sake of a
little pleasure in the country with merry
companions, he cut a branch from the Sab.
bath-tree !
Then came a woman with a face full of
care. She had not faith to trust in him who
clotheth the lilies, and provideth for the
ravens. 'I want wood for a stall,' said she,
'whereon to sell my sweetmeats. I must
earn some more pence for my living; neces-
sity owns no law;' and taking the hatchet
of Disobedience, she also brought down a
leafy bough, treading under foot as she did
so a quantity of the ripe, precious fruit.
Not content with thus breaking the Sabbath
herself, she demanded that those who bought
at her stall should each bring, in addition to
their money, a fagot stolen from the holy
tree !"
When Thorn came to this part of his


story, his scholars glanced consciously at
each other. They all now felt convinced
that their teacher was aware that they had
been buying from a stall on Sunday.
"It was grievous," continued Thorn, "to
see what multitudes trampled on the Sab-
bath fruit, broke away twigs, snapped
branches, to help on their business or aid
their amusements. Some wanted wickets
for cricket, one man required a handle for
his spade; and though a very little delay
would have enabled them to procare wood
from a lawful quarter, they were too thought-
less, too covetous, or too impatient to reve-
rence the Sabbath-tree.
But soon I beheld in my dream, that
while none could faithfully partake of the
fruit without benefit, none without injury
could break off a single branch. As I
watched, much did I marvel to see how dis-
obedience brought down punishment! The
man who had repaired his car by Sabbath-
breaking, had little pleasure from his in-
tended treat. As he was driving from a
public-house, suddenly a wheel of the vehicle
came off, he and his party were flung out on


the road, and sorely bruised by the fall. In
some cases, the wood so unlawfully taken
appeared to turn at once into dust! The
man digging with his Sabbath spade, found
it suddenly snap asunder, and the splinter
ran into his hand, inflicting a terrible wound."
Oh, but how could that be ? exclaimed
one of the boys. "Many a fellow goes
larking on Sunday, and the wheel of his car
never comes off! I don't know what this
part of your story can mean."
It means," replied Willy gravely, "that
disobedience to God, the wilful breaking of
his holy commandment, unless the sin be
repented of and renounced, is certain to bring
punishment in another world, and very fre-
quently also in this. There are multitudes of
lost, miserable sinners, who may trace their
first steps on the path of ruin to breaking
the Sabbath of God. No one ever yet, on
his death-bed, could say that he really pro-
fited by money so gained, or that he had no
reason to regret a pleasure gained by dis-
obeying his Maker's command.
The poor woman who sold sweetmeats, I
found in my dream, was not long in suffering


the penalty of disobedience. In one of the
fagots so sinfully laid upon her stall, the
serpent Remorse had lain coiled, unnoticed,
unseen! As she was counting.her unholy
gains, made by not only sinning herself, but
causing others to sin, the fierce reptile darted
at her breast !-with difficulty was the ser-
pent torn from its hold, and the poor sufferer
sank on the ground, bleeding, fainting, trem-
bling at her danger, and weeping for her sin!
It was some time before she was able feebly
to creep to the spot where comfort and
healing might yet be procured by a proper
use of the fruits of the Sabbath-tree.
While the poor woman was in sorrowful
penitence, doing all that lay in her power to
show her regret for the past, the boys who
had purchased at her stall-who had wilfully
'broken the Sabbath, not to supply real
wants, but to indulge their own greedy in-
I'll tell you what one of them did, sir !"
exclaimed Bat Nayland, springing up from
the ground: "he just emptied his pockets
of what he had bought, said that he was
heartily ashamed, and seeing an old lame



beggar near, he gave every crumb of his
purchases to him "
And suiting his action to his words, off


darted the boy, and astonished a ragged old
man on crutches, by bestowing upon him at
once all his cakes and his nuts !
Dear young readers if any of you have
been tempted to disobey your Master's com-
mandment, by buying on the day which the
Lord hath set apart for himself, oh, consider
it not as a trifling transgression.
Resolve with prayer henceforth never to
break the smallest twig from the Sabbath-
tree, but to feed on its sacred fruits with
faith, and hope, and love. Be assured, then,
dear children, that they will become sweeter
and sweeter to your taste, and prepare you
for the enjoyment of that Tree of Life which
is in the midst of the paradise of God.

La ~~


" H~ ~]HAT was that noise in the street?"
exclaimed Mrs. Claremont, laying
f down the pen suddenly. Ella
sprang to the window.
"0 mother, something must
have happened! some accident! there is
a crowd collecting round a poor little
girl !"
"We may be of some use!" cried Mrs.
Claremont, and she and her daughter were
it the street door in a few seconds.
What is the matter ? is any one hurt?"
inquired the lady of a milk-woman who was
standing looking on.
"A child knocked down by a horse, I


believe, ma'am. They should take the poor
thing to the hospital."
Mrs. Claremont waited to hear no more;
the crowd made way for her, and she was
soon at the side of a young girl who was
crying violently, and the state of whose
crushed bonnet and soiled dress showed that
she had been down on the road.
I don't think there's any bones broken,
only she's frightened," observed a baker
among the spectators; "I saw the horse
knock her down as she was crossing the
"Come this way, my poor child, out of
the crowd," said Mrs. Claremont, leading
the little girl towards the house; "we will
soon see if the injury is severe."
The weeping child soon stood in the hall;
hartshorn and water was brought to her by
Ella, but on tasting it, the girl pushed it
away in disgust, in a peevish and irritable
manner. In vain Mrs. Claremont sought
for any trace of injury; the road had been
soft after much rain, and not a scratch nor a
bruise appeared; yet still the girl cried as if
in agony of pain or of passion.


"Where are you hurt?" inquired Ella
soothingly; the child only answered by a
fresh burst of tears.
I am thankful that no harm seems done,"
said Mrs. Claremont.
"There is harm !" sobbed the girl; "all
spoiled, quite, quite spoiled!"
"What is spoiled?"


My dress, my beautiful new dress and
the ladies now observed, for the first time,
the absurd and unsuitable manner in which


the child had been clothed. Now, indeed,
her finery was half covered with mud; but
the pink bonnet, though crushed, the white
dress, though stained and torn, the gay blue
necklace, and hair in curl-papers, showed
too plainly the folly of the wearer.
"What is your name ?" inquired Ella.
"Sophy Trimmer."
Where does your father live ? "
He lives just round the corner."
"You should be very thankful that
your life has been spared," said Mrs. Clare-
Sophy did not look at all thankful, she
only glanced sadly down on her torn dress,
and whimpered, "Just new on to-day."
"You remind me," said the lady, "of a
story which I read in the papers some years
ago. A lady was going in a vessel to Scot-
land, and carried with her a quantity of
jewels to the value of a thousand petinds.
She thought so much of these jewels, that
she was heard to say, that she would almost
as soon part with life itself as lose them.
An accident happened to the vessel on the
way to Scotland; the water rushed into


the cabins, and the poor lady was taken out
"That is a shocking story," said Sophy.
"She could not carry her jewels with her
to another world. But there is one orna-
ment which even death itself has no power
to take away."
"What can that ornament be ?"
"An ornament more precious than the
crown of the Queen, 'the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit, which is, in the sight
of God, of great price' (1 Pet. iii. 4). The
poorest may wear this-the rich are poor
without it. 0 my child, care not to appear
fair in the eyes of your fellow-mortals, but
in the sight of God; your 'adorning, let it
not be that outward adorning of plaiting the
hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting
on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man
of the heart, in that which is not corrupt-
ible '" (1 Pet. iii. 3, 4).
"What do you mean by 'corruptible ?'"
said Sophy.
That which time can destroy. Nothing
in this world lasts for ever: flowers bloom
and decay; the fruit which was delicious


one week, the next is only fit to be thrown
away; the loveliest face grows wrinkled;
the finest form must soon turn to dust in
the tomb."
"I don't like to think of such things,"
said Sophy; "they make me sad."
"They would make us sad, indeed, were
this world our all. But we look forward, in
faith, to a place where there is no corruption,
no change, no death, because no sin; we hope
to wear white robes in heaven which will
never be defiled with a stain. Dc. you know,
Sophy, what makes them so white ?"
Sophy shook her head.
"We are all weak and sinful, less fit to
appear before a holy God in our own right-
eousness, than you are to enter the Queen's
palace in those soiled garments. It is 'the
blood of Jesus Christ which cleansethfrom all
sin;' through his merits, and his mercy, you
may appear spotless before the judgment-
seat of God, if you believe in him now, and
'keep yourself from idols.'"
"I have nothing to do with idols," said
the girl peevishly.
More perhaps than you think. Anything
(324) 6


that you love better than the Lord is an idol.
The miser loves money best; that is his idol."
Like old Levi, who half starves himself
to scrape up pence," interrupted Sophy.
The ambitious man makes power his
idol-some make their children their idols."
"Like Mrs. Porter, who-"
"Hush," said Mrs. Claremont, you have
nothing to do with the idols of your neigh-
bours; try and find out what is your own."
I do not think that I have any."
"Do you then love God with all your
heart ? Is it your chief business to serve
him; your greatest delight to do his will ? "
No; of course, I like to amuse myself
like other people."
Have you ever given up any one thing
to show your love to him who made you ? "
Sophy looked vexed, but made no reply.
"Whom do you like best to please?
Whom do you like best to serve ? Have
you no idol which you decked out this very
morning in all the finery which you could
collect ?"
"I suppose that you mean myself."
"Yes; self is the idol of the vain, their


hopes and joys are bound up in self, there-
fore their hopes and joys are amongst the
corruptible things which must pass away.
0 my young friend, the foolish pleasures
which you felt this morning in these fanciful
clothes, in one moment was changed to pain;
and but for the mercy of God, your own
poor body might now have been lying
crushed and lifeless. Why rest your happi-
ness upon that which cannot last, and which
may, any hour, be taken away from you for
ever ?"
"Gay, gaudy clothing always gives me a
feeling of pain when I look upon it," ob-
served Ella; I believe that with so many
it has been the first step to misery here and
"It is like the gay bait on the hook,"
said her mother, "not in itself deadly, but
covering a fatal snare. Oh, 'love not the
world, neither the things that are in the
world. If any man love the world, the love
of the Father is not in him. And the world
passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he
that doeth the will of God abideth for ever'"
(1 John ii. 15, 17).



HERE was unusual silence in the little
Sunday school when Ella Claremont,
its gentle teacher, entered it for the
first time in deep mourning. All
had known of her sorrow; all had
heard that her brave young brother had
died of wounds received in battle in a far
distant land. They thought of him whom
they had seen some few months before so
bright and happy, with a smile and a kind
word for all, nowlying cold in his bloody
grave; and there was not a heart in the
school-room which did not feel sorrow and
Ella could not at first address her school;


her words seemed choked; the tears gathered
slowly in her eyes; but she found strength
in silent prayer, and spoke at length to her
pupils, but in a trembling voice.
"Dear children, I have had much sorrow
since we last met and talked of the joys of
heaven-a beloved brother has, I trust,
through Christ's merits, joined the bright
hosts rejoicing there. But should not I
meekly bear the cross which my heavenly
Father sees good to send me ? To every
one passing through this life is given a cross
-a trial to bear. To some it is so light
that they scarcely feel it; with others so
heavy that it bows them to the dust. Each
of you knows, or will know, its weight.
But let none be afraid nor cast down. The
cross prepares for the crown. There is
something from God's Word inscribed on
every cross; and if we have but faith to
read it, it makes the heavy, light; and the
bitter, sweet! 'Blessed are the dead which
die in the Lord' (Rev. xiv. 13), is the inscrip-
tion on mine."
Every one passing through life has some
cross to bear! Yes; amongst those young


girls assembled in the school-room there
were some whose trials were deep, who had
much need to read the inscription to make
them endure the burden.
Dear reader, are you in trial ? Have you
known what it was to weep when you had
none to comfort you-to wish that the
weary day were over, or the more weary
night at an end-to wonder why God sent
you such sorrows ? For you I now write
down what were the crosses of some of the
children in Ella's school; for you I write
down what were the inscriptions upon them.
Perhaps you may find amongst them the
same trial as your own, and feel strengthened
to bear your cross.
Mary Edwards was very poor-hers was
a heavy cross. One of seven children, and
her father blind; often and often had she
come to school faint with hunger and sick
at heart. But for the kindness of friends,
the family would have been half-starved.
Mary had never known what it was to have
a blanket to cover her; very seldom had
she been able to eat till she was satisfied;
her clothes had been mended over and over


again, to keep them from falling to pieces;
ill did they protect her when the cold wind
blew through the broken pane, or found its
way through the crevices in her miserable
hut. Yet Mary had comfort in the midst
of her poverty; she remembered him "who,
though he was rich, yet for our sakes he be-
came poor." She had read the inscription
on her cross: "Hath not God chosen the
poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of
the kingdom which he hath promised to
them that love him ?" (James ii. 5). And
Mary would meekly repeat the hymr of
good Bishop Heber:-
"The cross our Master bore for us,
For him we fain would bear;
But mortal strength to weakness turns,
And courage to despair.
Then pity all our frailty, Lord,
Our failing strength renew;
And when thy sorrows visit us,
Oh, send thy patience too "
Amy Blackstone never spoke of her cross;
she bore it in silence without complaining.
Her father was a drunkard-her mother
never entered the house of God. If she
heard the name of the Holy One uttered in
her home, it was but in an oath or a pro-


fane jest. She never complained, as I have
said; for, while others would have been
complaining, she was praying. Fervently
did she pray for her unhappy parents-fer-
vently for herself, that evil example might
not draw her from God. Many a silent
tear she shed over her cross; and this was
the inscription upon it: "I reckon that the
sufferings of this present time are not worthy
to be compared with the glory which shall
be revealed in us" (Rom. viii. 18).
All pitied Ellen Payne, for her cross was
sharp. A lingering, painful disease had
taken the strength from her limbs, the
colour from her cheek. She never rejoiced
in one waking hour free from pain, and
often the night passed without sleep. The
doctors gave no hope, medicine no relief.
She had nothing to look forward to but
pain, increasing pain, till she should sink
into an early grave. This was her cross;
and this was the inscription upon it: "Be
thou faithful unto death, and I will give
thee a crown of life" (Rev. ii. 10).
Jane White had been a deserted child;
she had never known a parent's care. She


seemed one of the neglected, despised ones
of earth, with none to love her, and none to
love. She felt lonely and desolate. This
was her cross; and this was the inscription
upon it: "When my father and my mother
forsake me, then the Lord will take me up"
(Ps. xxvii. 10).
Ann Brown lived with her aunt. Few
of the girls were better dressed, or seemed

more comfortably provided for, than she.
Had she, then, no cross to bear ? Yes; for


she dwelt with a worldly family, who laughed
at her for being "righteous overmuch."
When she would not join in profaning the
Sabbath-when she showed that she cared
not for gay dressing or ill-natured gossip-
she became the object of ridicule and scoffs,
more painful to bear than blows. This was
her cross; but sweet was the inscription
upon it: "If ye suffer for righteousness'
sake, happy are ye: and be not afraid of
their terror, neither be troubled" (1 Pet.
iii. 14).
Mary Wade's cross was in the depth of
her own heart-the struggle to conquer a
passionate, violent temper. She desired to
obey God, she wished to live to his glory;
but sin seemed too strong for her; she
yielded to temptation again and again, until
she was almost in despair. Her health had
been bad when she was an infant; much of
her peevishness and impatience were owing
to the effects of this. But no one seemed
to make allowance for natural infirmity; her
companions did not like her; and, worst of
all, she felt that she was sinning, and bring-
ing discredit on the Christian name. Poor


child! hers was an unpitied cross; but
there was hope in the inscription upon it:
"There hath no temptation taken you but
such as is common to man: but God is
faithful, who will not suffer you to be
tempted above that ye are able; but will
with the temptation also make a way to
escape, that ye may be able to bear it"
(1 Cor. x. 13).
Elizabeth Brown was a sad little girl, but
none knew the cause of her sadness. She
had once been the most thoughtless child in
the school, full of mischief, full of gaiety,
never thinking of God. Her heart had
been on earth-her only wish had been to
enjoy herself. Much trouble and sorrow
had she given to her gentle teacher, much
grief to her pious parents; for she had
laughed at good advice, and cared little for
punishment. But now the gay child had
grown thoughtful; a text heard at church
had struck her, and sunk deep into her heart:
"Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for
whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also
reap. For he that soweth to his flesh, shall
of the flesh reap corruption; but he that


soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap
life everlasting" (Gal. vi. 7, 8). What had
she been sowing for eternity ? She thought
of her neglected Bible, her broken Sabbaths,
words of untruth and of unkindness, her
mother disobeyed, her teacher disregarded!
Could God forgive her after all that she had
done ? Would he ever admit her to heaven?
She feared that her sins were too many to
be pardoned. This fear was her cross.
Oh! praised be God for the precious in-
scription upon it: "The blood of Jesus
Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin"
(1 John i. 7). Jesus said, "Him that
cometh to me I will in no wise cast out"
(John vi. 37).
Blessed are they who thus mourn for sin,
for they shall be comforted. Blessed is the
sorrow that worketh repentance! Blessed
are they who so bear the cross that they
shall inherit the crown !



HEN walking through the streets
of London, have you not some-
times met a party of strangers,
and felt sure that they belonged
to another land, because they
spoke not the English tongue'? Had you
listened to them, you would not have under-
stood them; they conversed in the language
of their own country.
My young friend, what language do you
speak? If I knew but that, I should soon
guess to what country you belong.
Perhaps you answer, "I am English. I
know no language but my own." True, in
one sense you are English, and you may



thank God for it! You were born in
England, and here may spend all the years
or days of your mortal life. But your real
country is in another world, where you will
live for ever! Thousands and millions of
years may pass, but you will be still remain-
ing in the country which you have chosen.
So, again I ask, What language do you
speak ? To what country do you belong?


The one is a bright and glorious place,
where sorrow and pain are unknown. Its
citizens are angels and redeemed saints, who,
with shining crowns and harps of gold,
rejoice before the throne of God. The
language which they speak is TRUTH.
The other country is too terrible to
describe. Happiness never enters there,
but pain, grief, and remorse abide for ever !
Its inhabitants are the tempter and his evil
ones-hardened sinners who would not
repent, who chose the broad way that
leadeth to destruction. And what is the
language which its citizens have learned?
The language of Satan is FALSEHOOD.
O my dear young reader, with anxious
love would I once more repeat my question
-let your heart answer it- What language
do you speak-to what country do you
belong ?
Yet, mistake me not. There are some
whose lips were never stained with false-
hood, who yet cannot be counted among the
citizens of heaven. The proud, the self-
righteous, who trust to their own merits,
who love not the Saviour who suffered for


all,-these may have learned the language
of truth, even as foreigners may learn the
tongue of our land; but they belong not to
the country of holiness and joy.
And others there are who have fallen
into sin, whom the "father of lies" has
tempted and deceived; yet God's mercy
may prepare a heavenly home even for
them, if, believing and repenting, they turn
to the truth. Thus, St. Peter thrice uttered
a terrible falsehood, but repented with
bitter tears, and, through the atoning blood
of his Lord, was received into heaven a
glorious martyr.
But oh, dread a falsehood as you would
dread a serpent; it leaves a stain and a sting
behind. If you have ever been led into this
deadly sin, implore for pardon, like St. Peter.
Like St. Peter, when next placed in tempta-
tion, speak the truth firmly, faithfully, fear-
lessly; for truth is the language of heaven.
There are four chief causes which lead to
the guilt of lying-folly, covetousness, malice,
and fear. Examine your own life, and see
if any one of these has ever tempted you to
utter a falsehood.

It was folly which made Richard tell a
traveller the wrong road when asked the
way to the-next village. He thought little
of the sin of his lie-it seemed to him but
an excellent jest; but the jest cost a neigh-
bour his life! The stranger was a doctor,
travelling in haste to attend a patient who
had been taken with a fit. Richard's false-
hood made the medical man lose half an
hour, when every minute was precious.
Oh, what anxious hearts awaited his arrival!
But he came too late; he found the sufferer
at the point of death, with his desolate
family weeping around him !
It was covetousness which made Sally
declare that her fruit had only been gathered
that morning, when she knew it to be the
refuse of yesterday's market. Did she for-
get that God's eye was upon her-that her
words could not pass unnoticed by him-
that she would have to answer for them at
the day of judgment ?
It is covetousness that makes Nelly stand
begging in the streets, telling to passers-by
her pitiful tale of a father in hospital and a
family starving. Will the money which
(324) 7


she gains by falsehood and hypocrisy bring
with it a blessing or a curse? Oh, "What
is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole
world, and lose his own soul ? or what shall
a man give in exchange for his soul ?"
(Matt. xvi. 26).
It is malice that makes Eliza invent
strange stories of her neighbours. She
delights to spread a slander, or to give an
ill name. She mixes a little truth with
a great deal of falsehood, and cares not
what misery she inflicts. Whom does she
resemble ? Not the citizens of Zion. What
language does she speak ? Not the language
of Heaven.
It was cowardice which drew Peter into
falsehood when asked who had broken the
china vase: he dreaded a blow; he dared
not speak the truth. Do you not blush for
him, little reader, who feared man rather
than God?
How different is Margaret Lacy! Neither
covetousness nor cowardice could ever make
her pollute her lips with a lie. She serves
a God of truth; she is learning on earth the
language of heaven.

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