Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Good for evil
 Beyond all price
 How are you?
 Good for nothing
 The look of the thing
 How like it is!
 Uncle Tom’s cabin
 I am no worse than my neighbou...
 The little mother
 Back Cover

Group Title: Favorite stories for the young
Title: Good for evil, and other stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026983/00001
 Material Information
Title: Good for evil, and other stories
Series Title: Favorite stories for the young
Physical Description: 120 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
Borders, Fred ( Engraver )
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
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 )
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 fronispiece illustrated in colors; other illustrations engraved by Dalziel.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026983
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 - 002238827
notis - ALH9351
oclc - 60313638

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Table of Contents
        Page 6
    Good for evil
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Beyond all price
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        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
    How are you?
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Good for nothing
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    The look of the thing
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    How like it is!
        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
        Page 95
        Page 96
    Uncle Tom’s cabin
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
    I am no worse than my neighbours!
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
    The little mother
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




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GOOD FOR EVI, ... ... ... ... ... ... 7

BEYOND ALL PRICE, ... ... ... ... ... 17

HOW ARE YOU? ... ... ... ... ... ... 34.

GOOD FOR NOTHING, ... ... ... ... ... 50

THE LOOK OF THE THING, ... ... ... ... ... 66

HOW LIKE IT IS! ... ... ... ... ... 81

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, ... ... ... ... ... 97


THE LITTLE MOTHER, ... ... ... ... ... 114


" Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another,
even as God'for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."

E shall repent of it! if I die for
it he shall! passionately ex-
claimed Philip, as he wiped the
blood from his face, after a fight
in which he had had the worst.
"I'll make him repent it! "
"Why, what is the matter? said his aged
grandfather, who, attracted by the noise of
the quarrel, had unperceived approached the
angry boy.
"Look what he has done !" cried Philip,



pointing to a beautiful little model of a ship,
which lay crushed and destroyed in the mud.
" It has been my work for a month past; I
had just finished it; and see-" The poor'
boy could not finish his sentence; grief and
passion choked his voice; but again he
muttered between his teeth,-"I'll make
him repent it! "
But why did he spoil your model ?"
"Oh, he is full of spite and malice-he
always was. We hate one another. He
trampled on my ship, so of course I struck
him,- and we fought,- and he was the
stronger. But I'll have my revenge yet! "
"Come into the house," said the old man
quietly, "and let us examine your hurts."
As soon as this was done, and the boy's
head bound up, his grandfather laid his hand
on the shoulder of Philip, and with a grave
look began:-" I see that your face is not
very much hurt; now I must look to a more
serious wound."
"What do you mean ?" said the boy.


Must I remind you, that 'if any have
not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his'
(Rom. viii. 9). And 'the fruit of the Spirit
is love......peace .......gentleness.......meek-
ness'" (Gal. v. 22, 23).
"Oh, one can't put up with everything!
I don't hate those who don't hate me, nor
harm those who don't insult me; but I want
justice, nothing but justice "
"If you receive nothing but justice, my
boy, a terrible portion will be yours. For my
part, I have learned to ask mercy; without it,
I could never reach heaven, nor escape hell."
"You mean mercy from God: I know
that we all need that," said Philip; "but
that has nothing to do with my quarrel with
"It has much to do with it," replied the
old man; "'Forgive, and ye shall be for-
given'" (Luke vi. 37).
Philip made no reply, and his grandfather
continued: "This is the real state of the
case, my boy. You have broken God's laws



every day of your life, by deeds, or words, or
thoughts. Justice has sentenced you to suf-
fer for it; but the very God against whom
you have sinned has had mercy upon you.
He has sent his Son to die for you, 'the
Just One for the unjust;' and now he says
to you, and to all who hope for life through
his death, 'Be ye kind one to another, ten-
derhearted, forgiving one, another, even as
God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you'"
(Eph. iv. 32).
It is a very difficult thing to do," said
Philip thoughtfully.
It is a thing which must be done, and if
you are Christ's, will be done," replied his
grandfather; "for what said the Lord him-
self ? Ifye forgive not men their trespasses,
neither will your Father forgive your tres-
passes' (Matt. vi. 15). Think over these
words; pray over them; and tell me what
you feel on the subject to-morrow."
The next morning Philip met his grand-
father with a calmer spirit. I have thought


over my quarrel with Ben," said he. I
had intended to let fly his canary, or to have
done him some mischief or other; but now
I have made up my mind to let the fellow
alone. Are you satisfied with me now,
grandfather ? "
"You have taken one step in the right
way, dear Phil; but you have not yet, I
fear, forgiven as you have been forgiven.
Think over the subject again, and try your
heart by the Word of God."
At breakfast Philip sat silent and thought-
ful. Before he rose to prepare for church,
he spoke again to his grandfather. "I see
that it is not enough to give up revengeful
acts, I suppose that I ought to keep down
angry words also. This is a harder task than
the other, for I love to speak out my mind;
but I'll try, with God's help, not to speak ill
of Ben. Grandfather, are you satisfied ? "
That is another great step, my boy; but
ask your own heart if it really forgives as
you have been forgiven."


Philip came home from church with a
brighter face. "Grandfather," said he, as
he led the old man towards his home, "there
is one prayer which I never truly joined in
till to-day."
"What prayer was that ? "
"' That it may please Thee to forgive our
enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to
turn their hearts.' Ben came into my mind,
and I prayed for him; and do you know
why I did so ?"
God put it into your heart, my boy."
"Why, the second chapter that was read
struck me so. To hear of St. Stephen bleed-
ing and dying, with the cruel stones hurled
at him, and the people yelling around him;
then, to think of his praying in the midst of
his agony, 'Lord, lay not this sin to their
charge' (Acts vii. 60). He had much more-
to forgive than ever I have had. I wonder
if the heart of any of his cruel enemies was
ever turned?"
"Do you forget, Philip, that St. Paul


was one of them ? That he stood and looked
on while Stephen was murdered? How
little the persecutor then thought that he
was so soon to join the Christian band which
he wished to destroy, and that he should
die, like St. Stephen, a martyr for the gos-
pel !"
"With what joy they must have met in
heaven! cried Philip. "Perhaps I may
find my enemy there !"
"And there he would welcome you as a
brother," said the aged man.
The next morning was rainy and wet, but
Philip was absent; and his grandfather, as
he sat by his little fire, and looked on the
untasted breakfast, wondered what had be-
come of his boy. At last he heard a well-
known step, and Philip entered, tired, and
dripping from the rain.
"Where have you been, my child ?"
"I've walked all the way to Hackney,"
cried Philip gaily, as he pulled off his wet
jacket, and hung it up to dry.


"To Hackney! Why, Ben lives there.
Did you go to see him ? "
"The truth is, grandfather, that I heard
but last evening that Mr. Jones wants an
errand boy, and that if a smart lad were to
apply at once, he would be likely to get the
place. Now, Ben has been for some time
out of work; I thought that this might just
suit him; so-as if I delayed he might lose
his chance-I got up early this morning and
walked over."
There was a look of quiet pleasure in the
old man's face as he poured out the tea for
his grandson's breakfast,-it said more than
volumes of praise. After a minute's pause
he inquired, "How did Ben receive you, my
"All in his old way," replied Philip, with
his choler rising as he spoke. He laughed
when first he saw me, and asked me how I
liked what he had given me on Saturday.
Grandfather, I felt inclined to knock him
down; but I thought of what I had heard


at church, and restrained myself; and after
a while I told him my errand."
And what did he say to that? "
"At first, nothing; he only looked sur-
prised and suspicious, as though he thought
that I was making game of him; then he
held out his hand to me, with an ashamed
look, and said, 'Philip, I behaved ill tL you
on Saturday; you said that I should repent
it,-and I do!'"
"God bless you, my dear boy You have
acted like His child. 'For if ye love them
which love you, what thank have ye ? for
sinners also love those that love them. But
love ye your enemies, and do good, and lend,
hoping for nothing again; and your reward
shall be great, and ye shall be the children
of the Highest: for He is kind unto the un-
.thankful and to the evil. Be ye therefore
merciful'" (Luke vi. 32, 35, 36).
Reader, do you bear ill-will towards any
one? Has any one injured or insulted you ?
Oh, forgive, as ye would be forgiven Give


up revengeful acts; silence angry words; lift
up your heart in prayer for your enemy; re-
turn him good for evil. Lie not down to-
night with anger in your heart; ask the
Saviour to give you a spirit like his, that
you may pass through life to eternity with
all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffer-
ing, forbearing one another in love (Eph.
iv. 2).



%3e^onb an jprite,

disturb me," was Mr. Edwards'
reply to his youngest son, little
Georgie, who had come again
and again to his father when
busy over his papers.
"I want you to mend my drum,-see
what a big hole I have cut in the top; it
won't make a noise no more!" and the
child, with a rueful face, held up his broken
"Ask me in the evening; I am busy
now," said the gentleman, waving him away.
At that moment a servant entered the
(413) 2


room and informed Mr. Edwards that some
one was waiting to speak with him below.
Impatient at being again interrupted, the
gentleman rose from his seat. Before he
left the room he glanced to see that little
Georgie was safe, and out of the way of
mischief. The child was seated in the
corner with his broken drum on his knee,
trying to pull off entirely the parchment
which had covered the top of his toy.
"Papa won't mend my drum; I'll mend
it my own self," muttered the child, who
was not yet five years of age. "I'll get some
strong paper, and tie it round with a string,
and make my drum sound as well as ever."
So Georgie trotted up to the table on
which lay his father's papers, in search of
something that would answer the purpose.
But, child as he was, he could see that
none of the letters or bills were in the least
like the tough parchment which he had
been tearing off from the drum, nor could
he find a morsel of string.


A key was in the lock of the drawer of
the table at which Mr. Edwards had been
pitting; pursuing his search, Georgie pulled
the drawer open, and putting in his plump
little hand, felt for what might be within.
At the very end of the drawer lay a roll,
which seemed to be harder than paper.
Georgie drew it out, and, to his joyful
surprise, found it to be made of a firm,
tough material, just like that which had
covered his drum; only there was a good
deal of writing upon it, and a large red
, seal at one end.
I will ask papa when he comes back if
I mayn't have this," said the child to
himself; "I daresay it's of no use to him,
as it was pushed so far back in the drawer.
I wonder what such tough paper can be
made of."
Georgie unrolled the parchment with a
little difficulty; the moment that he let go
of one end, it curled round again into a roll.
I can't use this tiresome thing for my


drum if I can't make it lie flat, quite flat,"
said Georgie; and he looked round him for
some means of pressing down the parch-
ment, so that it should lose its inclination
to curl. He thought of putting his father's
desk upon it; but the desk was too heavy
to be easily moved. Georgie tried sitting
upon the parchment; but that had no effect:
as soon as he rose it curled up as readily as
it had done at the first.
Georgie then fixed his eyes on the very
large family Bible, which, ever since he
could remember, had lain on a table near
the window, but which he could not recol-
lect having ever seen any one open. That
would be heavy enough to keep anything
pressed down flat. Georgie clambered up
on a chair, with the parchment roll in his
hand. He had not strength enough to
raise the great Bible, but he could lift up
one of its thick well-bound sides, and some
of the gilt-edged leaves. Supporting them
with his shoulder, while he unrolled the


parchment, and kept it straight with his
little hands, Georgie then let the heavy
cover and leaves drop upon it, and left
them thus to press, as he hoped, the
troublesome roll into flatness.
Georgie clambered down again from the
chair, and had scarcely begun playing with
his toys when his nurse entered the study
in haste. His aunt had just come in her
carriage to take him to spend the day at
her house; he must be instantly dressed to
go with her. Georgie jumped up in
delight, for a day spent at Netherby
Grange was to him the greatest of treats.
No more thought of the broken drum,-no
more thought of the curling roll Georgie
forgot all about them as completely as if
they had not occupied his mind for two
moments. He went to enjoy himself in
careless pleasure, little dreaming what mis-
chief he had done, when, in ignorance of its
value, he had hidden the parchment between
the leaves of the Bible. .


About ten days after his pleasant visit to
Netherby Grange, Georgie, young as he
was, could not but be aware of an unusual
stir and bustle in the house. Bells were
rung loudly, anxious voices were heard,
servants were summoned, children were
questioned, even Georgie was called into
the study. There stood his father, sur-
rounded by papers, his brow all furrowed
into frowns, looking as he might have
looked had he been going to be tried for his
life. Where was the deed-the parchment.
deed,-a document of the greatest import-
ance? such was the question asked of
every one in the house. Georgie knew
nothing about deeds and documents, and
had fever heard of parchment before; it
never entered his young brain that the
anxious search now going on was for the
roll of tough yellow paper which he had
taken to mend his drum with. At first it
was rather fun to the child to see how the
house was ransacked from the garret to the


cellar, every likely and unlikely place
searched, drawers pulled out, boxes emptied,
desks examined, nay, every corner of the
dust-hole looked at again and again. But
even little Georgie was soon to learn that
the loss of a deed, whatever that might be,
would turn out to be a serious evil. His
father's face grew thinner and sharper, and
had on it a look so gloomy and stern that
the young child feared to go near him.
Georgie's mother was often in tears. The
servants spoke plainly to each other, even
in the presence of the boy, about warning
being given to them all, about master and
mistress having to leave their good house,
put down their carriage, and begin life
again, all from the loss of the deed by which
their estate had been held George was in
bitter distress when he learned that his
beautiful home would be his no more, that
his very playthings must be left behind,
that his favourite dog would be parted with!
He was ready to stamp with passion when


he saw strange men come into the house to
put tickets upon tables and chairs, that
everything might be sold.
Mr. Edwards was almost in despair. He
was a man who had hitherto lived only for
enjoyment and pleasure. In his prosperity
he had seldom given a thought to God, from
whom all his blessings had come; and now,
in his grief and perplexity, the unhappy
man knew not where to turn for counsel
and comfort. He searched and searched
again for the deed, put advertisements into
the Times, stuck up placards offering large
rewards to whoever should discover the
parchment. He thought of it all the day
long, he dreamed of it every night, he
looked for it everywhere except in the pages
of his family Bible !
And so had it been with Mr. Edwards in
what regarded his soul. He had eagerly
searched for happiness from his first entrance
into life. He had sought it in pleasure, in
luxury, in human praise, and in earthly


gain; he had sought it in everything but
religion Now his hopes of happiness were
crumbling away; poverty stared him in the
face; he had no peace of mind,-no solid
hopes to rest on in his trouble. Life was to
him a burden, death was to him a terror.
And yet pardon, peace, joy, were all within
his reach! A Saviour was yet willing to
receive him, a heavenly Father to bless.
Knowledge better-far better than all the
gold which mortal ever possessed, was to be
found where his lost deed lay, in the pages
of the Holy Bible !
Very sad were Mr. Edwards and his wife
as they sat together in the study on the
day before that on which they were to go
forth from their home. Little Georgie was
beside them. Even the child had no heart
for play; he looked up into his mother's
tearful face, and the shadow of her grief lay
like a cloud on the boy.
0 Philip!" said Mrs. Edwards to her
husband, drawing a heavy sigh, "why has


all this trial come thus suddenly upon us ?
I lay awake almost all last night, and so
many thoughts passed through my mind!
It seemed to me as if God-the God whom
we have too long forgotten-must have had
some purpose in sending us this grief. We
have not thanked him for his blessings,
therefore he takes them away; we have
not honoured him with our substance, and
so he removes it from us."
Mr. Edwards did not at once reply; his
conscience had been also whispering to him.
Sadly his eyes rested on the large Bible,
which had been a wedding gift to him and
his wife.
"That must be sold too," he murmured.
"Oh !" exclaimed the lady, bursting into
tears, we do not deserve to keep it, for we
have not studied-we have not valued our
Bible Week after week, year after year,
have passed, and we have never gathered
our children around us to read to them God's
blessed Word! That book is a witness


against us; its unopened pages will in the
judgment condemn us."
Mr. Edwards rose from his seat. "Louisa,"
he said to his weeping wife, "we have
indeed neglected our duty; the cares and
pleasures of this world have weaned our
hearts from God. Now, for once at least,
we will open that Bible, and read the word
of truth together. God may have a message
of mercy for us; we may find some comfort
there, now that all other comfort is gone."
He walked up to the family Bible, and
opened it with a deep sigh. George's eyes
were resting on his father, and great was
the child's amazement at the effect of the
first glance at the book. Mr. Edwards
started, gasped, looked eagerly, almost
wildly, at what was before him, then caught
up something from the Bible with an ex-
clamation of joy.
"Thank God! thank God!" cried Mr.
Edwards, staggering back to his seat, with
the lost deed grasped in his hand.


It is impossible to describe the joy, the
wonder, the thanksgiving, of both husband
and wife, at the sudden and most unex-
pected recovery of that which had so


strangely been lost. It appeared to them
almost as if the deed had been by a miracle
restored. All the anxiety, fear, and grief
of the last months but served to deepen the
happiness at that moment enjoyed.
"But how could the parchment have ever
found its way into the Bible ?" exclaimed
Mr. Edwards.
I put it there cried George, to whom
the sight of the "tough yellow paper had
brought back, like a dream, the remem-
brance of what had occurred.
"You exclaimed both parents in indig-
nant surprise.
"Oh, papa, I meant no harm," said the
child; I never knew you were looking for
that. I had forgotten all about the yellow
roll. I did not think that such an old, com-
mon-looking thing could be of any use at all."
It is of priceless value exclaimed Mr.
Edwards, with some impatience in his tone.
"Nay, dearest," said the lady, gently lay-
ing her hand on the arm of her husband,


"do not let us be angry with the child. It
is God himself who has been teaching us a
lesson through the thoughtless act of our
boy. Have we not"-here she glanced at the
Bible-" known as little as he did the value
of a treasure beyond all price ? Have we
not carelessly put away from ourselves that
by which alone a heavenly inheritance can
be ours ? 0 Philip! if this strange incident
has but shown us something of its worth,
we may bless God indeed for all the suffer-
ings caused by the loss of the deed "
Dear reader, whoever you may be, if you
be the owner of a Bible you may learn
something from the little tale now before
you. Do you yet know the value of God's
Word; have you found out what it holds? I
do not say that within its leaves you will
discover the title-deed to any earthly estate;
you may not win houses and lands from
reading the Holy Scriptures. What is it
that you will find therein, if you search with
faith and prayer ?


You will find how to gain God's free and
full forgiveness for every past transgression.
The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth
us from all sin (1 John i. 7).
SYou will find where to gain supplies for
your earthly wants.
Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his
righteousness; and all these things shall be
added unto you (Matt. vi. 33).
You will find how to receive the grace of
God's Holy Spirit, to cleanse your heart,
and make it holy.
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye
shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto
you (Matt. vii. 7).
You will find how to support all earthly
cares and trials.
Casting all your care upon Him; for He
carethfor you (1 Pet. v. 7).
You will find what is the glorious end of
those who love and serve the Saviour.
Be thou faithful unto death, and I will
give thee a crown of life (Rev. ii. 10).


You will find the blessed inheritance pre-
pared for God's redeemed.
The ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with songs and everlasting
joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy
and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall
jlee away (Isa. xxxv. 10).
These are a few, but a few, of the pro-
mises contained in the Holy Bible; they
are made by the eternal God, whose word
can never be broken. Have you sought
them out, have you loved them, prized
them, made them your own? If not, oh,
are you not like the child who treated as a
worthless piece of waste paper that which
was beyond all price ? Are you not, in your
search after happiness, like the parents of the
boy, when, sadly and anxiously, day after day,
they looked for a treasure which they could
not find, while it lay all the time-unnoticed,
unregarded-between the leaves of their
Bible. Never let a day pass without your
reading the blessed book; not with careless


haste, not as a mere form, but with a
humble prayer that the God of Wisdom
may bless your reading of his Word, and a
joyful confidence that in the sacred pages
you will discover the riches of his grace, a
treasure beyond all price !

'U are late home from the dispen-
sary to-day, dear papa," said Ella
.V I Manson, as she met her father
l- the doctor in the hall of their
Swelling, took from him his hat
and umbrella, and rubbed some shining rain-
drops from his coat.
"There were a great many poor creatures
coming to-day for relief," replied the doctor;
"a great deal of sickness prevails at this
"Come to the fire, dear papa; I am sure
that you who take care of every one, should
have some one to take care of you. See what

3ow are I)OU ?


a cheery blaze I have made


to welcome you

--I- -I -E --

The doctor entered his warm little study,
and took his seat on the easy chair which was


wheeled round for him by his young daugh-
ter; and as she placed herself on a footstool
at his feet, and looked up with her bright
smile into his face, the good man silently
thanked God for the many blessings bestowed
upon him.
"You have hard work at the dispensary,
I am well repaid," said her father, "if I
am only able to relieve pain, and help in re-
storing health."
"Ah, what a precious thing health is!"
cried the girl; "it seems to me that a kind
and clever doctor does more good than any
one else. How people crowd to any place
where they can get a cure for their diseases,
and, oh, what a terrible variety of pains and
ailments there are in the world One would
think that health is the uppermost thing in
every mind, for the very first question asked
by friends when they meet is generally, 'How
are you ?' as if they considered that if health
were but good, everything else must be right."


"It is strange," said the doctor, as he
thoughtfully gazed into the fire, how much
tnore apt we are to think of the body's health
than the soul's."
I do not know what you mean by the
soul's health, dear papa."
"The soul-that part within us which
thinks, hopes, fears, and loves; that soul
which was made to live for ever-is subject
to as many kinds of sickness as our poor
perishing bodies, and it is not difficult to
trace a great resemblance between them.
There is thefever of passion, the dizziness of
folly, the madness of drunkenness, the blind-
ness ofignorance; far more real and terrible
evils than any which merely attack our
mortal frames. But the great difference is
this, while we use every means, make every
effort to procure health for the body, too
many amongst us neither know nor care
whether their souls be sick or well."
If 'How are you?' meant, 'How is your
soul ?'" observed Ella, "people would feel


quite angry and hurt at such a question being
But what a solemn question it would
be said her father; "how great would be
its importance! It would be as if the
speaker said, 'Is your soul in safety ? has it
found rest and peace ? is the pain of an evil
conscience gone ? have you no fear of eternal
death ? have you been to the Good Phy-
sician? and has He healed your soul for
ever ? '"
I doubt whether many people ever
think that their souls need healing," ob-
served Ella.
"And yet, my child, what is the Bible
description of the soul as it is by nature ?
The whole head is sick, and the whole heart
faint: from the sole of the foot even unto the
head there is no soundness in it; but wounds,
and bruises, andputrifying sores" (Isa. i. 5,6).
And how can the soul be healed ?" asked
"The Lord who made it, who knows it,


who died for it, he alone can heal the sick
soul. In his blessed Word is to be found
some cure for every disease from which the
soul can suffer. I had a strange dream last
night," continued the doctor, "and this has
made the subject of sick souls rest much on
my mind during the day. When I saw
mothers bringing their sickly children, or
pallid invalids, scarcely able to drag on their
feeble limbs, coming for medicine and for
advice, I could not help thinking to myself,
'Would that all poor creatures would seek
as anxiously for advice for their souls, for
medicine to cure their sins, which are more
deadly far than any sickness can be !'"
"What was your dream ? asked Ella.
I dreamed that I sat in the dispensary,
in my accustomed place, to receive all who
came for healing. But there were no medi-
cines near me; nothing but the Bible lay on
the table, with a strange light gleaming
upon it. And I saw in my dream that a
motley crowd stood at the door, some with


cheeks blooming with health, and faces
bright with mirth, others sad and sorrowful
in countenance; but I knew that all had
souls diseased, that all were in danger of
eternal death, but that for each was con-
tained in the Bible a recipe for a medicine
which, taken and applied, could heal the worst
sickness of the soul."
What a strange dream exclaimed Ella.
"I saw every object before me as clearly
as I see you now," said the doctor; indeed,
my powers in my dream seemed far greater
than any that I possess when awake, for I
was able to read the thoughts, and tell at a
glance what ailed every one of the sin-sick
patients before me."
"Tell me about them," said Ella.
"The first was a merry-looking girl, gaily
-I may say gaudily-dressed, with flutter-
ing ribbons and flowers, gilt ornaments, and
a bold saucy manner which seemed to say
that she feared no danger, and cared for no-
thing but pleasure. She had clearly no idea


that any disease was in her; but I saw that
her soul was afflicted with a dizziness and
lightness which, unless cured in time, would
be attended with fatal effects. For her I
wrote down the prescription from the Bible,
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" (1 John
ii. 15).
"Did she take the paper gladly, and was
she cured ?" inquired Ella.
"Neither in this case, nor in any other,
did I see the effect of the recipe which I had
given," replied the doctor. I laid the cure
before each patient, but I had no power to
make him take it. Life or death was offered
to him; he had to choose between sickness
and health. The ministers who preach God's
Word, and show sinners the path to heaven,
may point the way, and lead the way, but
the most faithful and gifted of them all can-
not oblige the unwilling to follow. There
are many, alas! who have not even a wish

to be cured of sin; they love their disease,
even though they know that it must lead to
their utter destruction."
Who was the next patient ?" asked Ella.
"The next was a thin,gaunt woman, bowed
down with sorrow and care, with sharp fea-
tures and hollow eyes. She was not old in
years, but her hair was streaked with gray,
and her face furrowed with wrinkles. Much
trouble had bowed that back, and lay like a
leaden weight at that heart! I knew in my
dream that I had before me one greatly
afflicted, and one who had not yet learned
how to bring the burden of her cares and
lay it at the feet of her loving Saviour. Her
sickness of soul was a wasting decline; she
was losing strength day by day, she was sink-
ing into a state of listless gloom which took
all her energy away, and made life itself a
weary burden, almost too heavy to be borne."
"Surely," exclaimed Ella, "that was ra-
ther her misfortune than her sin I "
My child, there is sin in mistrust of God;

there is sin in giving up hope when we are
bidden to trust in the Lord. With a feeling
of deep pity, and an earnest prayer that the
mourner might find true comfort, I wrote
down for her the words of the Saviour,
Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest (Matt.
xi. 28).
Then I turned in my dream towards two
who had entered the dispensary together; a
brother led in by his sister. I thought that
the man seemed unwilling to come. There
was a sullen, dogged look on his face and in
his bleared and bloodshot eyes; his bruised
skin seemed to bear tokens of a recent fall
or fight; his clothes were ragged and torn:
even had I not possessed the strange power
of reading character bestowed upon me in
my dream, I should have known the miser-
able man at once to be a habitual drunkard.
I have brought you a wretched mad-
man I' cried the sister in a tone of indignant
contempt. 'I doubt if it be possible to cure

him, but I have led him here on the chance.
In one of his horrid fits of drunkenness see
how he has torn his clothes to rags, and struck
his face against a lamp-post! I am afraid
that in his madness he will do himself or
others serious harm. It is not safe to leave
him alone; he is like one possessed by a
"'Oh, fatal madness,' I inwardly ex-
claimed, 'that draws thousands and thou-
sands of precious souls to the pit of destruc-
tion!' With a sigh I wrote down the
warning contained in the book of God's
"Word, Be sober, be vigilant; because your
adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh
about, seeking whom he may devour: whom
resist steadfast in the faith (1 Peter v. 8, 9).
I raised my eyes as I gave the writing,
and they rested now not on the brother, but
the sister. The decent, respectable woman,
who had such a scorn for sin,-she of whom
the world spoke so well,-she who believed
herself to be so safe, so full of spiritual health,

-what was my surprise to observe that she
was almost totally blind! I saw that, little
as she was aware of it, she was really as
much an object of pity as her miserable
"'Your soul also requires healing,' I
"' It is in perfect health,' replied the wo-
man sharply, 'and no one need be anxious
about it. I am a regular church-goer; I
pay every man his due; I never did harm
to any one.'
"'Yet for you I have a message,' said I;
'may God give you grace to apply it Thou
sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods,
and have need of nothing; and knowest not
that thou art wretched, and miserable, and
poor, and blind. I counsel thee to buy of Me
gold tried in thefire, that thou mayest be rich;
andwhite raiment, that thou mayest be clothed;
and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou
mayest see'" (Rev. iii. 17, 18).
"Papa," said Ella, with a perplexed look,

" what was the sin of this woman,-what is
blindness of the soul? "
"Her sin was selfrighteousness," replied
Dr. Manson, "the besetting sin of many who
call themselves Christians. It blinded her
to her own danger; it made her unable to
see herself as a sinner; it prevented her from
looking to Him through whose merits alone
we can be saved. If any human being say,
' I have no need of healing,' it is because the
soul is blind, and the darkness of ignorance
surrounds it."
"Did any other patients come in your
dream ?"
A young man entered next," replied the
doctor, "who had just been engaged in a
fierce quarrel with one of his neighbours.
His cheeks were flushed, his brows were
knit, he was grinding his teeth for rage. I
knew that his blood was hot, that his pulse
beat high, that he was in the fever ofpassion.
Silently I held out the Bible cure for him
to take at a calmer moment,-he was too

angry at that moment to read,-Let all bit-
terness, and wuath, and anger, and clamour,
and evil speaking, be put away from you,
with all malice: and be ye kind one to another,
tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as
God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you (Eph.
iv. 31, 32).
"A woman followed behind, but as one
who neither sought nor hoped for a cure.
She was wretched in her outward appear-
ance, her dress told of want and neglect, a
settled gloom was on her face, she never
raised her eyes from the ground. And what
depths of misery lay beneath that sad ex-
terior Here was one who thought herself
beyond reach of cure! No one on earth
cared for her soul, and she had almost ceased
to care for it herself The palsy of despair
was upon the miserable creature; she seemed
as if unable to stretch forth a hand to grasp
at mercy, even were it to be offered. She
had heard of a Saviour indeed, but she could
not believe that his love could extend to

such a sinner as she. Eagerly and anxiously
I wrote out for.her the blessed words of the
Redeemer, which-received, believed, and
obeyed-can give life to the dying soul,
Look unto Me, and be ye saved (Isa. xlv. 22).
Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast
out (John vi. 37). I leant forward so anx-
iously as I gave the writing, to arrest the
attention of the sufferer, that the movement
roused me from my sleep, and, starting, I
awoke from my dream."
"It was a singular dream indeed," ob-
served Ella, but how much truth was in it.
It was like a glimpse behind the curtain
that hides from us the real state of our
fellow-creatures. When next I pass through
a crowd I shall think of the sin-sick souls,
and wonder how each of them could answer
the question 'How are you?' in the spiritual
"Nay, rather, my child," said the father,
looking with tender affection at the fair young
girl at his feet, "ask the question of your

own soul. How are you in the sight of your
God ? Be on your guard against every
symptom of disease lurking within. If you
feel the chill of indifference, the languor of
indolence, the heat of anger, the pang of envy,
do not rest in a careless hope that all is well
with your soul. Watch over it, for it is
precious; keep from it the infection of evil
companions, the unwholesome food of bad
books. And, above all, my daughter, come
daily by faith and prayer to the Good Phy-
sician, Whoforgiveth all thine iniquities; who
health all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy
life from destruction; who crowneth thee with
loving-kindness and tender mercies; who satis-
fieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy
youth is renewed like the eagle's" (Ps.ciii. 3-5).

i 'i L;

6oob for Boqiing

ET away with ye, for an idle, good-
for-nothing thief !" exclaimed Mrs.
Paton, as with an angry gesture
she waved from her door a ragged,
miserable lad who stood before it.
"Never shall you be trusted with another
errand by me To take the biscuits out of
the very bag! Don't tell me you were
hungry; don't tell me you won't be after
doing it again! I was ready, I was, to give
you a chance, since I knew that you was a
homeless orphan; but I'll not be taken in
twice Go, beg about the streets or starve,
or find your way to the workhouse or the


I --- rI

jail! I wash my hands of you; I'll have
nothing more to do with ye, I tell you, un-
gratelul and good for nothing as you are!"
and, as if to give force to her words, Mrs.
Paton slammed the door in his face.

Rob Barker turned away from the house
with the look of a beaten hound. He knew
that the reproaches of the woman were not
undeserved, that he had not been faithful to
his trust. Deprived, when a child, of his
parents' care, brought up in the midst of
poverty and vice, growing even as the weeds
grow, uncared for and unnoticed, save as
something worse than useless, he seemed as
if born to be trampled upon; he appeared to
be bound by no kindly ties to the fellow-
creatures who despised him. A feeling of
savage despair was creeping over his soul.
"Ay, I'm good for nothing, am I," Rob
muttered, as with slouching gait he sauntered
down the street, not knowing whither to go;
for all the world was alike to him, a desert
without a home. Almost fiercely he looked
at the passers-by, some on foot, some in
carriages, some upon prancing steeds. "They
are good for something," thought Rob; "they
have their homes and their friends, their
kind parents, their merry children. They

are loved while they live, and sorrowed for
when they die. But I, I have no one left
on earth either to love or care for me, or
miss me when I'm gone. Life is just one
tough, hard struggle; there's none will help
me through it !"
Rob stopped at the corner of a street,
leant against an iron lamp-post, and moodily
folded his arms. The bare brown elbows
were seen through the holes in his tattered
sleeves. His worn-out shoes would hardly
hold together.
"I say you, won't you come in there?"
said a voice just behind him. Rob started,
he so little expected to be addressed; and
turning half round, he saw a pale boy, in
clothes that were poor but not tattered, who
pointed to a door close by, over which was
written "Ragged School."
"I'm not wanted there," muttered Rob.
"Every one's welcome," said the little
boy; "and it's better to be in a warm room
than standing out here in the cold. I'm

late, very late to-day, for I've been sent on
an errand, but I think I'm in time for the
little address : teacher, she always gives us
a bit of a story at the end. I can't wait,
but you'd better come in;" and with the
force of this simple invitation, Sandy Benne,
for such was the young boy's name, drew
the half unwilling Rob within the door of a
place where a devoted servant of the Good
Shepherd was trying to feed His lambs
Rob did not venture to do more than enter
the low white-washed room, in which he
heard the hum of many voices. A poor-
looking room it was; its only furniture,
rough benches; its only ornaments, a few
hymns and texts in large letters fastened
on the wall. Rob stood close by the door,
a shy, almost sullen spectator, watching the
scene before him. The room was thronged
with children, such children as, but for the
Ragged School, would have been playing
about in the streets. Little rough-headed
urchins, who once had been foremost in mis-

chief; pale sickly boys, who looked as if they
had had no breakfast that morning. Seated,
some on benches, some on the floor, they
were conning their tasks with a cheerful

industry which might have shamed some of
the children of the rich. But a few minutes
after the entrance of Rob, at a signal given
by the teacher, a tall fair lady in mourning,
books and slates were put back in their places,

the morning's lessons were ended, and the
school looked like a bee-hive when the bees
are about to swarm.
"Now we shall have the little address,"
whispered Sandy, who had kept an eye upon
Rob; "the teacher is going to knock upon
the floor with her parasol, and then, won't
we be quiet as mice I"
There was no need to call silence !" two
little raps upon the floor were enough to
make every rough scholar in the place go
back to his seat in a minute, and remain there
as still as a statue. All the young eyes were
fixed on the teacher, the gentle, loving lady,
who daily left her comfortable home to
trudge, sometimes through rain and snow and
sleet, to spend her time, her strength, and
her health, in leading ragged children to the
Saviour. Her voice was a little faint, for the
lady was weary with her work, though never
weary of her work, but her smile was kindly
and bright as she began her short address.
I have promised to give you a story,

my dear young friends," she began, "and as
I am speaking in a Ragged School, and to
those who are called Ragged Scholars, you
will not be shocked or surprised if I choose
for my subject-a Rag."
The teacher's cheerful smile was reflected
on many a young sunburnt face; rags were
a theme on which most of the company felt
perfectly at home, though few present, ex-
cept poor Rob, actually wore the articles in
On a miry road," continued the lady,
"trodden down by hoofs, rolled over by
wheels, till it became almost the colour of
the mud on which it was lying, lay an old
piece of linen rag, which had been dropped
there by a beggar. Nothing could be more
worthless, and long it lay unnoticed, till it
caught the attention of a woman who, with
a child at her side, was picking her way
over the crossing.
"'I may as well pick that up for my bag,'
said the woman.

"' Oh, mother, don't dirty your fingers by
picking up that rag!' cried the boy, with a
look of disgust; 'such trash is not worth
the trouble of washing! It's good for no-
thing,-just good for nothing; it is better to
leave it alone!'
"'Let me judge of that,' said the woman;
and, stooping down, she picked up the miry
rag, all torn and stained as it was, and carried
it with her to her home. There she carefully
washed it, and put it with other pieces of
linen in a bag; and after a while it was
sold for a trifle to a manufacturer of paper.
If the rag had been a living creature,
possessed of any feeling, much might it have
complained of all that it had then to undergo.
It was torn to pieces, reduced to shreds,
beaten till it became quite a pulp; no one
could have guessed who looked at it then
that it had ever been linen at all. But
what, my young friends, was the end of all
this washing, and beating, and rending?
At length a pure, white, beautiful sheet of

paper lay beneath the manufacturer's hands:
into this fair form had passed the rag which
a child had called goodfor nothing!
"But the sheet was not to lie useless.
Not in vain had it been made so white and
clean. It was next carried to the press of
a printer. There it was once more damped,
so as better to receive an impression; then
it was laid over blackened type (that is,
letters cast in metal), and pressed down
with a heavy roller, until every letter was
clearly marked upon the smooth white sur-
face. God's Holy Word had been stamped
upon it, the sheet was to form a leaf of a
Bible; such honour was given to the once
soiled rag, which a child had called good for
nothing !
"And where was this Bible to be; to
what home and what heart was it to carry
its message of mercy ? It was bound, and
gilded, and bought, and carried to the royal
palace of the Queen. The Bible lay in the
sovereign's chamber, it was opened by the

sovereign's hand; her eye rested upon it as
upon that which was more precious to her
than her crown! What was it to her that
a portion of the paper had once been a worn-
out rag dropped by one of the meanest of
her subjects ? It had been washed, purified,
changed; the Word of God had given it value.
Well might the Queen prize and love it as
her best possession upon earth.
"Dear friends," continued the lady, looking
with loving interest on the listening groups
before her, "can you not trace out now a little
parable in my story? Need I explain its
meaning? There have been some neglected
ones in the world, as little cared for, as little
regarded as the rag which lay on the miry
road. But who shall dare to say that even
the soul most stained by sin, most sunk in
evil, is good for nothing? Such souls may
be raised from the dust, such souls have been
raised from the dust. While God spares
life we may yet have hope. I have just
read of the case of James Stirling, a faithful


servant, an earnest worker for God. That
man for twenty years was a drunkard, a
grief to his wife, a disgrace to his family,
an evil example to those around him. If he,
by the power of God's Word, was raised from
such a depth of sin, who now need despair ?
What if our sins be many before God; the
blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth from
all sin. The soiled may be made pure and
clean. What did the Saviour say to the
weeping penitent whom all the world de-
spised Thy sins are forgiven thee; go in
peace. And thus speaks the merciful Lord
to the lowly penitent still.
"And when a soul is washed from its guilt,
it is not left to be idle and useless. When
God gives to a sinner a new heart, it is that
his Holy Word may be deeply stamped on
that heart. Then those who have been
cleansed, forgiven, and raised, bear to others
the blessed message which they themselves
have received. Come, hear what the Lord
has done for my soul. Come, taste and see

that the Lord is gracious. Such are the Bible
words printed, as it were, on the heart of
every pardoned sinner, who, having been
forgiven much, feels that he loveth much.
And once more, dear friends, let me refer
to the leaf of the Bible described in my little
story, as a picture of a soul redeemed. It
too will one day be borne to a palace; not
the dwelling of an earthly monarch, but the
mansion of the King of kings! Precious
will it be in his eyes, and counted amongst
his treasures. Oh, what a joyful, glorious
end may be reserved for some whom the
world calls good for nothing, when penitent,
pardoned, purified spirits shine as stars in
the kingdom of heaven !"
The lady ceased, but her words seemed
to echo still in the ears of poor Rob. He
stood fixed to the spot where he stood,
scarcely conscious of the bustle around him
as the scholars noisily quitted the room. A
door of hope had been suddenly opened
before the almost despairing lad, a gleam of

light had fallen on his darkness. Rob Barker
had read the history of his own past life in
that of the trampled rag; could a like future
be before him, could he ever be one of the
"penitent, pardoned, purified" ones, who
shall shine at last like the stars?
The teacher's attention had been attracted
by the wretched appearance and earnest look
of the stranger lad. A feeling of interest
and pity made her watch him, as he lingered
in that room in which he had first learned
that it was possible for such as he to be saved.
As Rob walked slowly from the place, the
lady overtook him, asked his name, and
inquired what had brought him to the
Ragged School that morning.
"I believe that God brought me," mur-
mured Rob, and his answer came from his
Where do you live ?" said the lady.
"I have no home, no friends," replied the
lad, in a tone of gloomy despair.
"You are young, you look strong and

active, you must never give up hope," said
the teacher; "God is willing and able to
help all who come in faith to him. Let us
see if no way can be found by which you
can earn your bread as an honest Christian
should do."
The lady herself did something, perhaps
to some it may seem very little, to aid the
poor homeless lad; she had many poor to
think of, many claims on her purse. She
gave but a stale roll, an old broom, and the
means of procuring a single night's lodging,
together with an invitation to come every
day and learn at the Ragged School. This
was but a small and humble beginning to
Rob's new start in life. I am not going to
trace his career through all its various stages.
He was the crossing-sweeper, the errand-boy,
the lad ready for any message or any work,
cleaning boots, putting up shutters, carrying
parcels to earn a few pence or some broken
victuals. Life was a struggle to Rob, but he
was learning more and more to put his trust

in that heavenly Father who never forsakes
his children. He was learning to be honest,
sober, and pious. Gradually the sky bright-
ened over Rob; his character became known
and trusted, and greater prosperity came.
Having sought first the kingdom of God and
his righteousness, other things were added
besides, according to the promise of the Lord.
Rob entered service, and rose in it; he
remained for nearly twenty years under the
same kind master, then with his honest
earnings set up in business, and prospered.
Rob lived to be known and respected in the
world as a good husband, father, and master.
He lived to be useful in the station of comfort
and honour to which God's mercy had raised
him, and to look forward with humble hope
and rejoicing to the changeless glories of
Such was the career of one who had once
been deemed good for nothing by a fellow-
sinner !

(4-) 5

the NooIi of lthe thing.

White sat chatting over their tea.
They were near neighbours, for
they dwelt opposite to each other;
and Rebecca, who earned her living by go-
ing out washing and charming, and had but
a lonely time of it during the long winter
evenings, was often invited by kind Widow
White to share a meal with her and her
little daughter Agnes. Not that Rebecca
was one whose society gave much pleasure
to her friend: she was a bustling, gossiping
woman, very full of her neighbours' con-
cerns. Where there is little thinking, there

is apt to be much talking. It has been
well said that only empty bottles are never
corked up.
Little Agnes, with her large black at-
tentive eyes, sat perched on a high chair
beside her mother, listening to every word
that was spoken, and not a little amused by
Rebecca's idle gossip. While slice after
slice of buttered toast and tea-cake were dis
patched, cup after cup of good black tea
poured from the shining tea-pot, the guest
talked as eagerly and as fast as if talking
were the business of life.
Well, Mrs. White," said Rebecca, help-
ing herself for the third time from the well-
filled plate, I think that you've always
had a bit of a fancy for that Mrs. Miles;
but she's not a person to my mind. Would
you believe it now : when the subscription
went round for the poor weavers-and even
T, hard up as I often am, could manage to
drop a bit of silver into the plate-Mrs.
Miles was not ashamed to put in only a

penny! And she with a house and shop
.of her own! I'm sure, if I'd been she,
I'd a deal rather have given nothing at
What a mean creature Mrs. Miles must
be," thought little Agnes to herself.
"Perhaps," said Mrs. White in her quiet
tone, "you do not know that for the last
year Mary Miles has been struggling hard
to pay the debts brought on by her hus-
band's long illness. She, no doubt, feels it
her duty to be just before she is generous,
and however willing to give much, knows
that it would not be honest to do so."
Oh, but think of the look of the thing!"
exclaimed Rebecca; "who was to know of
her debts But Mrs. Miles,-she's an odd
woman," continued the charwoman, lowering
her voice, though not sufficiently so to pre-
vent every word being beard by Agnes;
" though people say she's so good, I take it
she's not all that folk fancy her to be. You
.think it right to go to church regularly,

don't you ? I often see you there with your
little girl."
Mother always goes to church," ex-
claimed Agnes, "even if it is raining ever so
hard !"
That's right," said Rebecca approvingly;
"it always looks well when one is never
missed from one's place in church. But
I've noticed that Mrs. Miles has kept away
these two last Sundays; and I know that
she has not been ill, for I've seen her on
week-days serving in the shop. Even if she
don't care for religion, I wonder that she
don't attend steadily, if but for the look of the
Mrs. Miles goes to church for something
better than the look of the thing," said the
widow, with a quiet smile; "I am so glad
that you mentioned the subject to me, that
I may be able to set you right. These two
last Sunday mornings have been spent by
Mary Miles in nursing poor sick Annie
Norris, that her daughter may go to church;

and then, in the evening, Mary herself at-
tends a place of worship with her husband.
I think it a privilege to go to the house of
prayer, but I believe that Mary Miles is
doing her Master's work just as truly while
nursing a poor sick neighbour, reading the
Bible to her, and giving up her Sabbath
rest that another may be able to enjoy it,-as
if she attended every service in the church."
"Ah, well," exclaimed Rebecca, half im-
patiently, "you are always one to find ex-
cuses; you're ready enough to stand up for
your friends I Another drop of tea, if you
please ;" and she pushed her cup across the
table: then, turning towards little Agnes,
she said, in a different tone, "You must
come and pay me a visit some day, my dear,
-I have something to show you worth the
seeing. I've been subscribing for i long,
long while to the Illustrated Bible, and with
some money which I got as a Christmas
box, I've had the numbers bound together
into such a beauty of a book. But I dare-

say that your mother has done the same,-
she's one to honour the Bible, as all know.
Whenever one sees a large handsome Bible
in a parlour, to my mind it's a kind of sigl
of the respectability of the people in it.
None of your nick-nacks, say I ; give me a
well-bound Bible, with shining edges and
gilded cover !" and Rebecca, proud of own-
ing such a volume, sipped her tea with an
air of the utmost self-satisfaction.
Mother," said little Agnes, your Bible
is very old,-it has not a bit of gilding
upon it. Could we not buy a new
one ?"
My old Bible is more precious to me,"
said Mrs. White, "than any new one could
be. It belonged to my own dear mother."
It is shabby though," observed Rebecca,
glancing at the plain black volume which
lay on a shelf; "you might anyways have it
new bound,-you should think of the look of
the thing."
"It is in good repair," said Mrs. White;

" I am quite contented with my Bible as it
Rebecca gave a little meaning nod of her
head, as if to say, "I care more for the
Bible than you do, though everybody thinks
you a saint."
Nothing more, however, passed on the
subject; and the guest soon afterwards took
her departure.
Agnes, with her thoughtful black eyes
fixed upon the old Bible, sat for awhile m
silence, turning over in her young mind the
conversation that had passed between her
mother and their neighbour.
"What is my quiet little lassie dreaming
about?" asked Mrs. White, who was clear-
ing away the tea things.
Mother," replied Agnes slowly, "I was
thinking over what Rebecca Burton said
about Mrs. Miles, and your Bible which
looks so old. You and she didn't seem to,
feel alike. Is it not right, dear mother, to
care for the look of the thing ?"

It is right to care something for appear-
ances, but a great deal more for realities,"
quietly observed Mrs. White.
"I do not understand you at all," said
Agnes. Is it not a good thing, mother, to
give to the poor, to go to church, and to
honour the Holy Bible ?"
"A very good thing, my child, if done,
not to win the praise of men, but from the
motive of love to God."
"I do not know what 'motive' means,"
said Agnes.
"It is the spring or cause of our actions.
Two persons may give exactly the same sum
to help a poor creature in great distress.
One gives her shilling for the look of the
thing, because she wishes the world to think
her generous; the other gives it for the lotie
of God, and so that he accept her offering,
cares not if her gift be known by not one
being on earth. You must see that the
motive of the second is piety, the motive of
the first is pride. Both women do the same

thing; but one does it to please God, while
her neighbour only pleases herself."
But so long as the money is given," said
Agnes, I don't see that the motive matters
very much."
"It matters everything," observed Mrs.
White, "in the eyes of Him who readeth
the heart. The cause of so much self-right-
eousness in the world is this: people-re-
spectable people I mean-count up all their
own kind actions, and never take the trouble
of searching into their motives at all. How
few would say to themselves, 'I am honest
indeed, but only because I have found that
the honest thrive best in the end; I go to
church regularly, but only because it is
thought a respectable thing to do so; I
give freely, but only because I could not
bear my neighbours to call me mean; I pay
what I owe, but only because if I did not,
no one would trust me again.' Do you not
see, my child, that in all this the love of God
is not the motive ? If as much gain, and

respect, and praise could be had by break-
ing God's laws as by keeping them, those
who now do good deeds to be seen of nen,
would do evil ones in their stead."
Perhaps little Agnes was growing sleepy,
for Mrs. White could not help perceiving
that the child did not follow her argument.
The mother did not try to explain herself
further; she waited for some opportunity
of making her little daughter understand
more clearly the truth which was so plain
to herself.
On the following morning Agnes came
running up to her mother with a look of de-
light. "See, see!" she exclaimed, "what
a beautiful watch my uncle has given me !"
and she held up for the widow's admiration
a very pretty toy watch. It looks just as
well as yours, mother; indeed, I think it
much the prettier of the two. Just see,-it
has a chain, and seals, and a nice shining
face, with all the hours marked on it, and
slender little bright hands that I can move

to any part with my key Is not my little
watch just as good as yours, mother?"
As far as the look of the thing goes, yes,
my dear," replied the smiling parent.
There's hardly any difference between
them," said Agnes; "only mine looks a
little the brighter, because, you know, it is
new. Please tell me the time, the exact
tine, that I may set my watch right."
"A quarter to ten," said Mrs. White.
With pride and pleasure little Agnes
turned the hands, till they pointed just to
the hour. It was almost time for her to set
off for school, which she did in very high
glee, showing to all the companions whom
she met the beautiful present of her uncle.
I am back a little earlier than usual,
am I not, mother?" were the first words of
Agnes White when she returned from morn
itg school. Oh, you need not look at your
watch,-you know I have now a watch of
my own !" Agnes pulled out her bright little
toy, and there were the hands exactly where

she had placed them, pointing to a quarter
to ten !
"Did you expect them to move, when
there was no mainspring inside?" asked the
widow, with a smile.
Agnes scarcely knew whether to look
vexed or amused. "I was a stupid little
girl to fancy that they would move," said
she. "Mine is a very pretty watch, but it
is only good to be looked at;" and she laid
it down on the table with an air of disap-
Ah, my child," said Lydia White, gently
drawing her little daughter towards her, "is
not the watch without springs like that of
which we were yesterday speaking-good
conduct without a good motive? The most
precious part of a real watch is that part
which is unseen: it is the hidden motive for
any good act which alone can give it true
But ought we never to care how our
conduct appears?" asked the child.

Yes, my Agnes," replied her mother;
" for those who have been bought with a
price, even the precious blood of God's dear
Son, are called to glorify their heavenly
Master both with their bodies and their
souls. We are called so to live that the
world may say, 'There must be power in
religion, for none are so honest, so truthful,
so kind, as those who are servants of God.'"
"I don't quite understand," said Agnes.
"Look again, dear child, at my watch, it
may help to make the subject clearer. You
know that the watch is a good one, you
know that the mainspring is right ?"
Agnes nodded her head.
"How is it that you know?" asked her
The hands always point to the right
place," replied Agnes; they go just the
same as the church clock."
But suppose that we pull off the hands,"
said the widow.
"0 mother, that would be a pity,-you


never would do such a thing If the hands
were off, you might wind up the watch, and
the watch might go, but it would be of no
use to others"
"Nor would it do honour to its maker, my
child. Now turn from the watch to the sub-
ject which I am trying to explain by its
means. If the motive of love to God be like
the mainspring to a Christian, the cause of
all his good actions, his outward conduct is
like the hands, whose steady movements
show that the mainspring is within. If
they are constantly right, we believe that
the hidden wheels are right, we know that
the watch has been wisely made, carefully re-
gulated, daily wound up. So when the Chris-
tian quietly goes on his circle of duties, ever
seeking, by the help of God's grace, to do
the will of his Lord, he shows to the world
a living example of the power and truth of
religion; he does good, not for the look of the
thing, but because the love of Christ con-
straineth him to act as conscience directs."

"And then others, seeing that good ex-
ample, may be led to follow it," observed
Agnes, upon whose mind the meaning of her
mother was now dawning.
It is a common saying, Agnes, that 'Ex-
ample is better than precept,'" observed Mrs.
White. "If we must search carefully into
our motives for the sake of our own souls,
we must also be watchful over our conduct
for others' sakes as well as our own. Never
can we too earnestly study, too carefully fol-
low the Saviour's command which refers to
the outward behaviour of those who have
the hidden motive of love,- Ye are the light
of the world. A city that is set on an hill can-
not be hid. Let your light so shine before
men, that they may see your good works, and
glorify your Father which is in heaven "(Matt.
v. 14, 16).

3Yoo fike t Is!

SHOPE, aunt, that you did not mind
my knocking up the house at twelve
o'clock last night," said Eddy Burns,
as he sat down one Monday morning
to the breakfast which had been kept waiting
for him nearly an hour.
I own, my dear boy," replied Mrs. Burns,
a gentle-looking woman with silvery hair
smoothly braided beneath the whitest of
caps-" I must own that I should much
rather have had you going with me to
church, and spending the Sabbath evening
quietly here, than wandering off I know not
where, and never returning till midnight."
(1S) 6

"Oh, if I were always living in London
it would be different," cried Eddy, as he
emptied the plate of grilled bacon; "but, you
know, when I'm only up on a visit, I must
see all that's to be seen, and make the most
of my time. What a whirl I was in all last
week sights and shows of all kinds-amuse-
ment from morning till night-hither--
"Where were you yesterday, Eddy?"
asked his aunt.
"Well, if the truth must be told, I was
off to Brighton by an excursion train to
have a sniff of the sea air, and somehow or
other we did not manage to get back till
"I was very uneasy and anxious about you,"
said Mrs. Burns, in a tone of gentle reproach.
"Oh, I'm sorry that I worried you !" ex-
claimed Eddy. "You're the best of good
aunts, and I owe more to you I know than
to any one else in the world. I may be a
wild, thoughtless young fellow, but I'm not


ungrateful-no; there's nothing I hate like
ingratitude "
Mrs. Burns' only answer was a kindly
smile. She might have upbraided Eddy
for his selfishness, his want of consideration,
his neglect of all religious duties, but she
felt that this was not the time for doing so.
"Where are you going to-day?" asked
the aunt.
"Well, I'm off to the Pantheon to see if
my photo is ready," said the lad.
"You did not tell me that you had been
sitting for your likeness."
Oh, everybody sits now-a-days," laughed
Eddy; "you would not have me behind the
rest of the world. If the photo turn out
good you shall have it, aunt;" and the boy
passed his hand through his light brown hair
with a very self-satisfied look, which seemed
to say, I'm sure they'll make a good pic
ture of a handsome young fellow like me "
Off started Eddy for the Pantheon, not a
little curious to see his own face for the first

time on paper. Eddy Burns was by no
means free from personal vanity. He had
dressed very carefully for his sitting, put on
his best waistcoat and his bright new studs
for the occasion, and had spent nearly ten
minutes in fastening his opera tie. Eddy
was now impatient to see the result of all
his dressing and study, and hurried up the
Pantheon staircase with all the eagerness of
a child. When he reached the photograph
stall, the youth could not wait until those
who had come before him were served; he
pushed himself forward, and kept demanding
his picture as if every moment of his time
were precious.
"What an age the woman takes in look-
ing over her little packets," muttered Eddy.
"This is yours," said the person behind
the stall, handing a carte-de-visite to the im-
patient lad.
Eddy almost snatched it from her hand,
and then, drawing back a few steps, looked
at it with angry disappointment, almost

tempted to fling it down on the counter in
"Ugh! what a fright they've made me,"
growled the youth as he descended the stair-
case at a slower pace than he had mounted.
"I've half a mind to toss it into the fire ;
but I'll show it first to my aunt, and see
what she says to the likeness."
About an hour afterwards Eddy entered
the parlour of Mrs. Burns.
"Have you brought back your likeness,
my dear boy? was the aunt's first question
when she saw him.
"Here it is, aunt; what do you think of
it ?" said Eddy, seating himself on an easy
chair, and drawing the little carte from his
pocket. He watched the face of his aunt as
she closely examined the picture, and rather
wondered at the tender expression in her
gentle gray eyes, and the smile which rose
to her lips.
How like it is! was her first exclama-


I'm surprised that you think so," cried
Eddy, rather mortified by her words; I
did not fancy myself to be so ugly a dog; but
I suppose that no one knows his own face."

"The sun will not flatter," said his aunt
with a smile; "he is too truthful often to
please. May I keep your photo ?" added
Mrs. Burns; 1 shall value it dearly, for it
will so remind me of you."
"Oh, you're welcome to keep it, or light
the fire with it!" cried Eddy. "I never
wish to see it again. I wonder whether,"
he continued, half laughing, "if the sun
could draw our characters as he draws our
faces in such a dreadfully truthful way, we
should recognize ourselves at all."
I rather doubt that we would," said Mrs.
Burns, with her eyes thoughtfully fixed upon
the photograph, which, though hy no means
a pleasing, was a very faithful likeness of
her nephew.
Well, aunt, some time or other you shall
play the part of the sun, and make a photo-
graph of my character. I should like to
know what I really am like, and I've heard
that you're so sharp at finding out all that
folk are feeling and thinking, that you'll hit

me off to a hair." Eddy's eye twinkled as he
spoke, and his manner was so careless and
gay that it was clear that he was not much
afraid that any very unfavourable opinion
could be formed of himself Indeed, he
considered himself, on the whole, a very
pleasant, kind, good-hearted sort of a fellow.
"You must give me a little time for re-
flection and observation, Eddy, before I at-
tempt to take your likeness; and you must
not be angry when I have done if my pic-
ture does not flatter."
Oh, I like plain truth," cried Eddy; "I
don't think that you'll have much worse to
say of me than that I like play better than
work, and am always up to a lark."
Nothing more was said on the subject at
that time. Eddy went out to some place of
amusement, and did not return till the even-
ing. He then looked heated and flushed,
and flung himself down on a chair by his
aunt with an air of indignant displeasure.
He's the most ungrateful dog that ever


I met with!" muttered Eddy between his
"Of whom do you speak?" asked his
Of Arthur Cox, to be sure ; he who was
my school-fellow, and to whom I lent half
my pocket-money one quarter-which, by-
the-by, he never returned to me again.
There's no saying how many scrapes I've
helped that Arthur out of, for he was always
getting into scrapes. And now-would you
believe it!-he passed me to-day in the street
as if he had quite forgotten me. A dead
cut, if ever there was one."
Perhaps he did not see you," suggested
Mrs. Burns.
"Oh, but he did though," cried Eddy
quickly; I caught his eye as we met. But
he has lately come in to some money, and
that has turned his head, I suppose; and he
was walking with some grandly dressed folk.
I guess that he did not choose that they
should know that I was an acquaintance of

his. Oh, I bate ingratitude of all things!
A man may be honest, pleasant, kind-any-
thing that you like, but once show me that
he's ungrateful, and I would not care ever to
set eyes upon him again."
"Ingratitude is hateful, Eddy, and yet-"
"Oh, don't you try to defend Arthur
Cox exclaimed the lad, with increased im-
patience of manner; "why, I once sat up a
whole night to nurse him, and that's not
what every one would do, I can tell you. I
really cared for the fellow, and that makes
his conduct the harder to bear. To cut me
dead in the streets! Did you ever know
any being so ungrateful ?"
"I know a youth," replied Mrs. Burns,
"who has, I think, shown himself to be quite
as ungrateful as Arthur."
"I can hardly believe it," said Eddy.
S"You shall hear and judge for yourself.
A youth-I need not give you his name-
had incurred a very heavy debt, which no
efforts of his own would ever enable him to

pay. There was nothing before him but
utter ruin, when a Friend, who knew and
pitied his distress, before He had even been
asked to relieve, came forward and freely
offered to pay not a part only, but the whole
of the debt. But the sacrifice was great to
Him who made it; the generous Friend,
who had once been possessed of great wealth,
brought Himself to poverty and want, and
for years endured the greatest hardships, on
account of His kindness to another."
What wonderful goodness !" cried Eddy.
"Nor was this all," continued Mrs. Burns.
"The Benefactor adopted the youth as His
son; gave him His own name; provided him
with food, clothing, lodging, all that he
really required; and when the lad was old
enough, placed him in a situation in which
he would be able comfortably to earn his
"Now that as a friend!" exclaimed
Eddy. "And what return did this youth
make for such unheard-of kindness ?"

"I grieve to say," replied Mrs. Burns,
"that I believe that the youth almost en-
tirely forgot the Benefactor to whom he
owed everything. His Friend desired him
to come to His house-but that house ap-
peared to be the very last place which the
lad cared to enter. Months, perhaps years,
would pass without his crossing the thresh-
old. Letters received from his Benefactor
were never opened by the youth, he thought
it a weariness even to read them."
"What a heartless wretch !" exclaimed
He never did any one thing to please the
Friend who had paid his debt at such vast
cost, and who had cared for him from child-
hood. He loved the company of those who
were enemies to his Benefactor; he did not,
indeed, like them, speak openly against
I should think not," interrupted the in-
dignant Eddy; "it was hateful enough to
forget him."

"Nay, but I have not told you all. You
have heard how freely and lovingly the
Friend had bestowed many goods on the
youth: He had, however, as He had a per-
fect right to do, reserved a certain portion
for Himself. Even this portion He was lay-
ing up to increase the future wealth of His
adopted son; but He forbade the youth, in
the meantime, to do what he pleased with
this portion."
"No one could complain of that," observed
"But the youth did complain," said his
aunt; "and he did not content himself with
murmurs, he resolved to spend all as he
pleased. Against right, conscience, and
gratitude, he wasted on idle follies what his
generous Friend had reserved, Eddy, what
say you now to this youth ?"
Say !" repeated her nephew, I say that
he is the most ungrateful, despicable, good-
for-nothing being in the world! Is he living
still "

"Living-yes, and not far from hence,"
replied Mrs. Burns, with a glance of mean-
ing; "is not my photograph like ?"
What on earth do you mean ? exclaimed
the astonished Eddy, opening his eyes wide,
and fixing them on his aunt.
Is not the likeness that of every soul that
forgets and neglects the greatest of Bene-
factors-the best and kindest of Friends ?
O Eddy! what hath God done for us; can
we number up a thousandth part of the
benefits received from his love ? Think of
the heavy debt of sin, that sin which, un-
pardoned, is death! Did not the Lord of
glory leave the throne of heaven to live in
poverty and want, and then endure the
scourge and the cross, that our heavy debt
might be paid? Was not that the proof of
most wonderful love ? And think how,
from our feeble infancy, God has watched
over, cared for, and blessed us. For the
sight of our eyes, the strength of our limbs,
for the faculties of memory and reason, we

have to thank our great Benefactor. For
the home in which we dwell, the food which
we eat, the friends whom we love-we must
thank Him. For all that we have in this
world, and for all that we hope for in the
next, we must bless and praise our Re-
Eddy looked more thoughtful than usual,
and, after a pause, his aunt went on: "And
what return do many of us make for all this
goodness and love? What is the conduct
of most of those who bear the name of Chris-
tians Do they care to please the Lord, or
only to please themselves ? When God in-
vites them to his house of prayer, do they
not neglect his invitation, and prefer any
place of amusement? Would they not rather
read any light book than the Bible, which is
the word of God, and contains his gracious
message ? And to mention but one thing
more: that precious portion of time, the Sab-
bath, which God has reserved in his wisdom
to be an especial blessing to the soul; that


Sabbath which he commands us to hallow,
-do not many rob him of it for their own
purposes-their business, their trade, their
amusement ? If ingratitude be hateful to-
wards man, oh, what must it be towards
God! "
"Aunt, you are hard upon me," said
"Since you take the picture for yourself,
dear boy, I can only say, Is it not like "

alnil omn's Qabin.

are you reading so busily,
boy?" inquired Willie Thorn,a
.mg teacher in a Sundayschool,
ie, on a fine morning in spring,
found one of his scholars lying on
the grass in the park, deeply engaged with
a book, of whose pages half had been lost,
and the other half appeared far from clean.
"The most interesting book, sir, I ever
read in my life," replied Tom Waters, look-
ing up. It's all about a slave,-such a fine
fellow, too !-who lived somewhere a great
way off, I suppose, forwe have no slaves here."
And what have you read about him?"
(a) 7


Oh, sir, how they treated him! He had
a master ten times worse than a tiger, who
forced him to work from morning till night.
Master Legree had no mercy at all in him,
none He beat and ill-used his slaves till
at last two of them determined to run away
-two women, sir "
"And did they manage to escape "
"Oh, they managed it very cleverly; but
the worst of it was that poor Uncle Tom-
that was the name of the good old slave-
knew where they were hidden and would not
tell. No, though his master beat him and
beat him, he would not tell. It was very
dreadful, for the cruel, wicked man, really
killed him at last! Oh, I am glad that we
have no such masters here !"
"Are you quite sure of that, Tom ?"
"I never heard of any so bad," said Tom,
in surprise at the question. "We have no
slaves here; and if any one killed the poor-
est man, why, he would be hanged for mur-
der, to be sure "

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