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Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notes techniques et bibliographiques
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1
2
3
1
2
3
4
5
6
y
keprinted Stories
%i^^
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^■'jiuii'igwwijwjK ' j ii wat]
ass
'e^r!^S.'Sfc~jSSH»a^)!«SSi3
For the Young.
"«?;-^
. ' Moalreal. JOHN DOOGALL & SON, '^Witness"' OITiCe.
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Beprinted jStories
FROM THE
NORTHERN IVEESSENGER.
y
FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.
MONTREAL:
JOHN DOUGALL & SON.
I88&
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r;;i-l(''' ;>/ JOY ^HT >f()'l
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El
PAOI.
Chriitie'i Chrutmai 1
A burae that counU. 3
Monkey pockeU. 10
Soldier anil thiitle 10
A apider'a wob. 12
The might of the pracioui lead U
Anoc<lt)te8 of nwallowa. 16
The gn«t ant-eater. 18
Binl'a neat aoup. 20
How buya' piarblcs are made 2B
Tlie water waifa 26
Picture leaaona 27
The rulea of Eliiabeth Fry. 29
How to become happy 33
llefore pena. 36
A remarkable neat 35
" Nobleaau oblige " 40
How gun harrela are made. 41
Two waya of looking at it 41
A noble dog and canary 43
The thimble 43
Wealth in the aea. 43
Little Ja pa neae 46
Boya read and heed thia 46
Tlie forceps crab. 46
Preaencc of mind. 46
Buttons. 47
"Didn't I, Dant". 47
The ten commandmenta. 47
Making a queen 47
A cliRractcriatic of self-made men 47
Bod Dane 48
Fre<ldie Wray'a accident. 64
Boy inventoraL 65
Jeasio'a goo<l day 66
Drawing lesson 66
Which is worse 66
One bit*- of a cherry 66
May-haves and must-haves. 56
A doll's work 66
Changing babies. 67
Concerning prayer. 67
Watch crystals. 68
Shadow pictures and silhouettes. 69
The fate of a herd of buSaloes. 69
About poison-ivy 60
A true history of two boys. 61
Metamorphosis of the deer's antlers. 62
The tin savings-bank 63
Another talk with Uncle Philip 64
Yema. 66
An old-faahioned animal 66
About spiders 67
How the Qospel came to Ono 68
The coachman's prayer. 69
Doing things welL 69
Emperor and prisoner. 70
Frank's security 71
Something about ducks. 72
PAOI.
William Wilberforce 73
Willy's haM place 73
Dogs in Oerman regiments 73
Aurora Borealia ...."' 73
The Chipmonk 74
Faithfulness 74
Father's kneeling-placo 74
A shocking eel 74
Flying without wings 76
The great royal KamtachaUca R.R 76
The boy that drew the baby's picture 77
The parrot's memory 77
How to love God 77
One step at a time 77
A Christian's choice 77
A mother's love 78
Bail bargains 78
Judge Payne'e short sermon 78
A dog stops a runaway horse 76
A kind horae i 78
The gymnast of the aea. 79
The last strand of the rope 80
A sailor's story 80
Honesty in a child 80
Circumventing the wolves 81
A strange library 81
Converted by a telegram 81
Paradise flycatcher 82
John Welch and the friar 82
The Master said so 82
The mantis. 83
An asphalt lake 83
A little behind 83
Carnarvon Castle 84
True politeness 84
How a birtl outwitto<l the monkeys 85
How a little girl suggested the invention of the
telescope 86
How plants come from seeds 86
The fox, the monkey, and the pig 86
He lost hia head 87
Helen'a diflSonlty 87
The horafaUl 88
A cataract that rushes np the river 88
The yak 89
A shark story 89
How love removed a mountain 90
Anecdote of Baron Rothschild 90
To boys, on habits of study 90
The Khedive of Egypt and his wife 91
A true story 91
The magic dance 92
A birthday gift 92
Nellie's verse 92
The dead raven 92
The feunec, or Sahara fox 93
An idol tried and found wanting 93
Chinese children 94
" Until seventy times seven " 94
Paul.
Hammer-lieadfd shark 96
New year'a day in Jhftn 96
A bible baked in a loaf of bread 95
How Benny aent notea to hia mamma 96
A guo<l word for the Engliah aparrow 96
Blackboa^l temperance lesson 97
The time for revenge 97
A wise mother 97
Let me go 97
A useful gander 97
Suckers, and aome who uae them 98
The true standard 99
Prayer barrels 99
The intelligent cormorant 100
An ancient village of the Onondagas. 100
Auka' eggs 100
The lady and the burglars. 101
Cancelled and nailed up 101
The atory of Sin Chin 102
Getting a situation 102
Murillo'a mulatto 103
Locust calcm 1 03
Tlio edible mussel 104
" I know a thing or two" 101
Tlie sinner's pleo 1 04
An old click's advice 104
Queer conveyancea 105
Chinineya : their history 105
The awearer reproved by a child 105
Tim restored teeth 105
From a [wstor'a note-book 1 06
Home-made telephones 106
The thimble IOC
The lotus 107
Truth 107
"Forme" 107
The Kiant heron lOK
A feathered ahepheni lOH
Trimming tlic elephant's feet lOK
Kanavniona 109
Molly's white Rose 109
The giant snapping turtle 110
Tommy learns almut toads 110
A plan in life HO
" I'll do it ; " or the broken jar Ill
Without strength Ill
The gray head by the hearth Ill
Grebes and their nests 112
Sir John Lubbock and his ants 112
Ye did it not 112
Fine feathers 113
Silent influence 113
Casting all your cares U)>on him 113
A shattered Testament 113
Ways to do good 113
Engraved eggs 114
Drowning the stjuirrel 114
The Cape buffalo 114
How pins are mode ....115
r
INDEX.
FAOK
M.ikiiiM gluhv* I lA
lln..v» lift
Tl.. kitcli..|i K'"I n.n
A |'iii<'.ii|i|i|c lirlil III IhrniiiiU I Itl
I iillllli;; till' iM'liiilli 117
Till' \ irtiii' of II rliiM-rdil fare 117
A |ilui'ky Imui iniMtrii tor 117
A l>inl llint liul|M itwK t<i ojrilen IIH
k;lit».
IlK
lliiu wiuhIi'Ii aliiMM »tr miuin 1 1**
llaliicK III Siiiliililliivjil I |H
IV rum.. ..r lliinllwi: list
A «n iniiilli' II''
M.in- M.iinlfrful timii tlif tclivnipli \M
.l..lin \V..»lr.v« i'«.-«lK. 120
\V..iiM iii't il.i (.>r a luii-ii miiiiufiii'turor 120
T..in'*K'"l'l«lu»l 120
Till' liiliui'l iinwownry 121
Til.' arlill.rv fi'iii 121
M-rn Clirislnm», nmniiiia 122
Tililf uuiiiiiirK 122
A (ainily niiMicumn- sucioty 122
lli.w I iiilly li-ariii'il her leiwm 12.1
Kailli . 123
Willie's luniiT-iiigecm 124
Instant in iH>a»>n 1 24
A prayiT 124
I'ray, ami ImnK on 124
Sli.lU 12.')
( "liarliti'ii prpxent 12.%
Till' Imikfii window 12.'5
Till' •liM'.nery of tho niunimoth 126
Tlir..' Iil.i.k raU 126
!.fj;fn.l of lliu ilfphant 127
Wliat i> the use of snakes. 127
(jiu.er fruit of an oak 128
The wisliiii); stone, ami liow it was loat 12H
Turtle
.128
lVe]i sea wonilers 129
Kurs useit for ladies' clo&ka 129
1
I'Aill.
Olluloid 129
Thn ele|iliRiit and lliv a|ii- 139
Cnxiil nianner* 129
How to Kel rich ISO
It ni.iy Ih. fun for lh« d<i((» . I no
Chrisliaii Hynii>«lhy 1:1"
A lly's nioutU 1.10
A llohle reply l;lO
Kindly loiideseBniion 1.10
l>aiiKerelitr. 131
If not, why iiotl 131
Seeing the (liMi|M'l 131
The swean'r lUred 131
Another don story 132
I>niwiiiK li'HHon 132
(.'areli'ss Toiniiiy 132
Captain lloxall's suxxeation 133
How iharai'ter (,'rowii 133
Haniel WehstiT 133
Wroim-doiiiK 133
Twol.lue pencils 131
No weiwhts 134
How I.] 1.0 ^oihI and happy 131
True iKiliteneiw 1 3.%
The lailor-hird 135
A horse whieh made a aciiaation LI.")
IntelliKent hona 13.1
Over the (alls 13r,
A tliorou)<h job 136
(ilailstone's heart 136
llil.le pmyers and aniwem 136
A newspaper scrap 136
The musir-lioy miiwion 137
Kind treatment of horsen 137
How Santa Claus cured Ilattia 13M
Tlie new year's niessage 139
Work for Isiys and girU 139
For the little ones 139
Tho hints' Cliristmag tree 139
Salt mackerel 139
PAIIK.
Till' loiigi'st day ill the year 1 10
hrii ting lewoli 140
The lanih and the (Kiny 1 tO
I'he fanner's friend 141
A little . hild's inlliienep 141
The King ul Siain 142
I*«l«r 113
Wliat's the rwnon 1 113
Kailway .lack 1)4
A monkey to ap|i«ar n« a witnem 144
How to succeed 141
The liianl's gloven .144
t'olois of the nky Ill
Tlin'c great physicians 144
The Kittlelield 14ft
S|K.il from the heathen I6S
What isamU'rl l.'\8
The I,onrsl».x 1.18
Mvsic.
CliiM ..fa King 10
I >lmll he satisfiwl 37
I Ihwanl, Christian aoldiere 99
If you have a pleasant thought 137
•
I'oETBT.
The prodigal son 12
The friend at midnight 22
Lines (jii giving 73
The rats ami the meal 90
I'lKir, sad humanity 92
Itriice anil the spider 106
C.randpa, you do look sweet 123
llo it now 130
The SulUn of the l-j«t 131
Rest follows lalxir 131
The Mind Iwy 1.1.1
Tw.> and one H4
inlK'l
T.
iroml
in »[
villul
rulilil
iiij,''')
Willi f
clllpl
IlKHttT
iiig:li
miul.l
pitcll
P4IIIC.
ItO
.HO
III)
141
III
. 1 1-.'
. 1 »;i
I i.'i
III
III
.III
III
III
III
li:>
ins
I .IN
ins
. 10
. 37
09
137
. 12
00
. 73
. «0
. 92
.106
.123
,130
.131
.131
.135
144
f I
Beprinted Stories.
•«•-#-
TUM LOVIOKINS lUiTlIUN.
Mr. niid Mth. Ldvi-kin luul
nuich Iroulilc Willi llu'ir noii 'rmn.
Tom l^ovi'kiii Imd lifcii rcctiirni/.t'tl
Iroin IiIm fiiriy youth iin ilio Icadrr
in ull iiiiHi'hiovoiiH (lectin in liin
villuKi'. Wiw tliiTc iin orrliiml
rol)l)cd ill u i)i'<iiliiirly lioid ()r
iiiKciiidiiN iiiitiiiii'i', Tom l.,ovi'Kiii
Willi 8Urf to 1)1' Hf( down an llic
culprit; did uiiicloii piilcli loNi'^its
liioHt i>ri/.cd Hidii-rcs during the
nijrht, Tom Lovckin, it would he
mud, paid it a visit ; wan ihvrt' a
pitchi'd hattlu on tlio wtri'i't he-
cniiNOorhiN hi'iiin <liK('ov<'r«d. Uii
(iliK occaMion thi! tlfprfdiitioiin ul
Tom Lovt'i.iit' NkirmiNlii'N in u
raid on Sijuiu' Itii-h b onhurd
wrrc »« >{rt'al that thi! whoU-
villaKi- wan in arinit. The lioyN
t'liKa^cd in the loray to do thfir
licMt could not cat ull they hud
Htiilcn, uiid huviiig no iiicuiin ol'
hiding it, Tom L«vckin'» recep-
tacle under thu lied wum thought
or and utilized lor the occasion.
>Sliortly ulter the udveiituro
Scjuire liich Hcoidcntly culled on
Mr. l.i(ivekin to examine Kome
pluim thul thu luttcr hud been
propoMud to carry a car through j
the uir ul the rate ol u mile a
minute, — " more or Ichn," ho used
to add when Npeakiiig on tliiN
Nuliject. "Voii cannot meusure the
Kpeed and power ol ihene in-
veiitionti in the head, Mr, iiki-
thoNc which huve long lieeli j
worked out. The Nlight advan-l
tage which might lie gained liy
lexhening u crunk or eiilurging the
circumlerence ol u wheel might
luuke u dillereiice ol thirty iiiiIcn
an hour. The air in nut like the
ruilroud, sir; we huve no hills to
decreuNU our Hiieed, no ruili* to
"dp in^my r<ium, lather; I wun
trying to practiite on it ho that yon
could I'XhiliU It at the next
Ashliurn lair."
"What u good lioy ihiN ia ol
mine, ^S4uiru Kich ! it ull the
lioyN ol (ireeiidale were like him
llirre would lie no troulile ; no
rolilimu ol orchards, no lights or
such tilings then, iSijuire Kich.
"(io up stairs, loin, and lirilig it
(low n. '
"Let tin go up with liiin" xuid
the ^>l(llIre, with u sly chuckle to
hiniscll, "and then we cull tiee
how he pructmcs Hying."
Iween the boys of the rival schools,
Tom Lovekiii's strategical inove-
ments were discussed lor weeks
nlterwards by the pence-loving
neighbors, who could not under-
stand what had got into the lioys
since they were young, preventing
them from meeting and parting
in good friends. And although
when Tom Lovekin was question-
ed on such subjects his face bore
every sign of innocence and sur-
prise, it might be remarked that
after nearly every loray under-
neath Tom's bed there was to be
found the most luscious melon,
the roundest, reddest cheeked
apple, the finest pears, or perhaps
he carried home the blackest eye
in all the country side. These ull
were trophies of which Tom was
not a little proud. But his great
success in these forays were the
^ —
i \
working on lor some time to dis-
cover perpetual motion, lor Tom's
lather's attention was so taken up
with his machines and inventions
that Tom's home education and
training was coniined to his
mother. But his mother had
enough to do with her manifold
duties, for more fell to her share
than should have done, through
her husband's vagaries, and lor
the most part Tom's home training
wus left to himself, and us we
have seen the elfects were not the
most satisfactory.
But to continue our story, when
Mr. Kich had examined the diller-
eut attempts to get a wheel, or a
lever, or a bull, or a magnet, to
move forever, he was not ullowed
to depart. Mr. Lovekin had many
years before endeavoured to make
a flying machine, by which he
break and shake a man ull to bits,
ill the uir, no bridges to iro over
slowly, re(jiiire no brakesnu'ii to
slacken 81 eed or nothing of that
sort; we have only currents in
the air to contend willi, and this
I propose to overcome by mak-
ing ;" let this dusli represent
the rest of the learned disquisition
on wheels, and crunks, uiid wings,
and tails, by which the currents
of the uir were to lie overcome.
Of course Mr. Kich could not be
allowed to go away w itliout seeing
the wonderliil machine, and Mr.
Lovekin unlocked the box in
which it wus packed, but no
muchiiie was to be seen.
" Tom ! Tom ! ! Tom ! ! ! "
" Ye-e-s, Sir-r-r", from a distance.
Tom arrives.
"Tom where is my flying
machine ?"
"It's MO dillercnce." said Tom,
who saw the old man's schciiie ;
"1 call lly here Just as well "
"lint it would be too much
trouble to liiiiiir it down ; but
neviT mind, h.we it your own
! way."
j 'I'om went up rejoicing, not
iiiiiigiiiing that the f^quire and his
father were lnjlow ilig at his heels.
Ills surprise can be imagined
wlu'ii just as he was dragiringthe
iiiuchiiie Iroiii his never-l'uiliiig
receptacle under the bed the old
men entered the room.
"Dear me ! what u
perfuiiii" you have here,
"I'ears, 1 declare!'
father.
"I'iuins and apples, apricots
too, ' said M r. Rich. " U hat a rich
boy you must be to have all of
these I Come give us one, Tom."«j
delicious
Tom."
said liis
II
-|>^@
ffiH^
\
II
4
'I'nin'ii fnrt" i?rov¥ red, •nil nil
hiHut'ir-poiiHfBHiim lofl liiiii. "Tom!
'roiii '" mini 111* JHlhtT, "wlieri-'n
lhi> iiiiir|iiiii''ii liiil ^'
"I know," hiikI ihi< iH|nir«',")ron
rnn liinl it linii'/niir on my null.
I wontliTi'il how iinvboily I'oiiM
)^i>t ovt-r win-n I liiiil it newly
itpiki'il II iiiontli iku'o Let iix »ff
your tifii»iiri'N, Tom "
Tom proiiiiri'il tlicm, anil out
thi'v rojli'il in uri'ui iiriihiiiion
\Vliiil wii.s lohi-iloni' Willi liim f
" Miiki> It Hiiilor of liiiii." Kiinl
tin- Si|uiri' ; "I'll iri-t liini i lirrtli
on till- ' \ iiriliint.' IIi-'ll I'omo
Itiii'k II lii'lliT lioy;"iinil lui uiriMnxl
IiIk mollii'r'x proti xiiitionx unil
ti'iirH 111- wiiM di-nt to siTVi- ao a
Nciiiiiiin in Hit Mai<'>ty'it Nnvy.
Many vi'iirN lia.s ln' Ih'i'Ii iiwiiy,
unil 111- hiiM provi'il u i;>>o<l niiiii.
IliN nioiluT iinil I'litlirr liiiv<>
);rown olil ill till' iii<-iiiiiim<' ; ili>-ir
only romrort in an iiiloptcil cliilil
who hi'iriii" lo rriiiiml ihi-Mi of
Tom ami wciirs hi« name. Tom
is all Ihi' talk ilav aiiil niuhl. The
KKI'UINTKI) MOKIKS. KIIOM TIIK •• NOUTIIKHN MKSSKN(JKU
I
thai I li-ll Very ilitairoiiN to h«i>
liovv It waa <'oiii|iirti-i| in Ihiit
lamily For in all my viniiN I hml
oliHi-rvi-il II rrniarkahly kiiiil ili--
iiiinnor lifiwi'i-n th« varioUN
iiK-iiilti-rx, ami wiim <liNpoNi>il to
lh>-ik till' Itihli-li-MNoiiii wi-ri'
Miiilioil with Hoiiii' ifooil ri'KiillN.
Thi> i-v-'iiini; iiii'al lii'lnu- nvir.
all wild coulil mill took a llilili'.
wliili- Ida, Mi'atliiu' liiTNi'lr at the
im-loi|iMin. roiiiin<'iiri'>l a liyniii, ill
the NiiiifinK III wliii'li all jiiitn-il.
It WHS alioiil thi> I'liihl .'^Jiiniii'l,
anil that wat tlii> niiIiJitI of tlii>
IrMMiii Till' fathi-r ri'iiil lln- piia-
Mitfi' Irom tin- llibh', nIowIv iiml in
an inipri-KHivi' nuiniiiT. Ili' llii>n
naiil, ■ Now Irl i-arli om- ;fivi'
Noim'lliiiiK wliirh lhi>y liavn
li'ariii'il V.I rri;aiil to tlio Ii-hhoii or
ri'pi-at a text."
Ilol tlii'ii saiil lii>r viTNi', in haliy
ai'r-niN, " till' I'hiUl (lid miniHtt>r
unto ilii> Lord."
" What in minititiT, my littli^
one ! " aaki-il hi-r falhi-r.
Doinir thill's for mamniii, and
fatluT has ifivn up bin search for papa, too, I doss." Thon dimhiiig
pi-rpetual motion and hiRtinkeriiitr into hor mother's lap and neatlin^
at the llyinir marhine, and inatead , her ourly head in her hosom she
devotes his spare time to makinir ! added, " And for the dood Popa
ship models and other nautical
articles.
Now he is reading Ihe news-
paper a few "lavs old, and his eve
coines arross the notice, " The
' \ iifilaul' isonlereil home and is
expected ni'Xt week."
"Then we may expect Toin in
a few ilav.s," says the mother.
" I Wonder liow he looks .' He
must lie twi'nty-six now. Ten
years is a lonir, long time to
lie away."
" Is'l'oin I oiiiiir home, mamma ?
Then vou won't talk so much
aliout iiim will you ?" said Tom
junior.
The door opens and a broad.
in heaven."
" The child has cautrht the
spirit of the text," said Mr. W , |
" Now, Archie." |
Aichie, the live-year old boy, ■
snid, "There was another little
boy who w.^nt into the tetiiple,
who never wannauffhly too. But
he did not live there like Samuel.
.And he \v. IS always ifood.Just as ^
Ifooil an can be It was .lesus."
"Oh, please, (lapa. that was |
mine," said little Dora. " Hut
never mind, Archie dear, you did I
s.iy that so nice. I'll say two j
verses: ' And Samuel ifrew and
the Lord WII.S with him, and did
let none of his words fall to the '
bronzed, smiliiiL' face, the index of j irround.' ' And Jesus increased in I
a stroiiir, lieariv frame, peeps in. | wisdom and stature and in favor
It is fallowed l.y the body itself, j with (jod and man.'" ]
and Iheie is in the room a sailor. "Very well8aid,liltledauj^hter," ,
The lather look.s lip from hi-, paper , remarked Mr. W . To which
with nil astonished look, but the ' Dora replied, " Oh ! but, papa, I
mother's eye ha.s rerocrnized her
son and he is clasped in her arms
once airain.
THK LKSSON AT IIOMK.
IIY M\U\ v. ll.VI.E.
'■ It is lesson-iiii;lit ilon't trotill
alter ten," said a little frienii, with
whose parents I liail recently
become aci(uaiiited, and on whose
mother I wa.s inakin<; a call.
" Lesson-niirht ! And what do
you do, Dora ? " I asked.
" ( Ih, we have little stories and
Bible text.s
thiiiirs ; and
lid not lind them myself. Mamma
found them ; but when we talked
over the li sson with her, I wanted
to tell that which Archie just said."
After some remarks by Mr.
W , an older boy alluded to
the fact that Samuel rose immedi-
ately upon beinir called, each time,
sbowin!; his rendiness (o obey.
He added, " I should think tin-
sons of lili would have felt
reproved bv Samuers attention to
their father."
Mr \V made some reply,
and pa explains and then Ida irave a brief state-
it's so nice. But we ment of the duties of the liiirh
all brinij somethin!r. and Ida — ' priest, and in what manner Samuel
that's my older sister— calls it n probably aided him. And as a
lesson-picnic Kven Dot, the dar- further help, Mrs. W .showed
lintr, says a little verse. Dostay," i a picture of the sacred furniture
urired Dora. in the holy place, callinir to mind
And biHntr cordially solicited by some things which had been
Mrs. W , my youns friend's ; learned in previous lessons.
mother, I remained. Indeed, a It^asan unconstrained, familiar
Sunday-school lesson, studied at i exercise, the father takini; notice
home by parents and children, is ' of each child's part by some litting
W) so rare a thing in these busy days ; response or question. And when
tiach one had spoken, all roiitinued
to talk or ask iiuestions upon the
stlbjeclN of the lesson A brief
appropriate story was usually told
for the beiielil of the youilirer ones
" Nothinir helps better to fa-
iiiiliarixe our minds with Scripture
truth in my opinion," said .Mr.
\V , " than this slmlyinu' the
lesson to^rrther And we think
It has a t{ood inllueiiie upon the
daily life ol bolli parents and
children." — S. S. Time:
I CAN'T II KU* IT
That was what Harry Day
always said when he was told of
any of bis bad liabils : " 1 can't
help it;" which really meant, "I
don't Irish to help it;" because
We know Well enoiittli that we
can every one of us " liel|i"doinif
wroiiif if we try in the riulit way.
Once Harry came u|Min an old
story in a worn, soiled book which
he routed out of a chest in the
lumber-closet, and this story set
him thinkinir, as it may, perhaps,
set some other youiuf folks think-
illi( about the reason why it is
necessary lo resist what is bad in
its earliest beij^iiininir.
" Long ago there lived an old
hermit who had left the busy
world for a cell in the desert, and
who was reputed to be learned
and wise.
"Many people used lo visit the
loiieiy man that they miirhl receive
his advice, and once a youth came
lo him who begired to stay with
him for a time as Ins pupil.
" The hermit consented, and the
iirst day hi> led his young com-
panion into a small wood near
to their humble dwelling. Look-
ing round, he pointed to a very
young oak tree Just hhooting fiom
the ground.
" ' I'ull up that sapling from the
root,' said he to his pupil, who
obeyed without any difficulty.
They went on a little farther, and
the old man pointed to another
tree but also a young one whose
roots struck deeper. This was
not so easy to pull upas the Iirst
had been ; but with several ell'orts
it was accomplished.
" The third had grown quite tall
and strong, so that the youth was
a long lime before he could tear
it up; but when his master pointed
to a fourth, which was still larger
and stronger, he found that, try iih
he might, it was impossible to
move it.
" ' Now, remember and lake
heed to what you have seen,' said
the hermit. ' The bad habits and
passiona of men are just like these
trees of the wood. When young
and tender they may bo easily
overcome, but let them once gain
lirm root in your soul, and no
human strength is sufficient to get
rid of them. Watch over your
heart, and do not wait till your
faults and passions have grown
strong before you try to uproot
them."
That was the end of the story ;
m
Harry
I can t
lips he
So he
but, as I have said, it set
Day thinking, and when "
help it " was rising (o Ins
was ashamed lo utter it.
set himself to the Work of master-
iiig his lein|ier, his idleness, and
all that I'onsrieiiee told him was
amiss Tlioiiirh this Is a work
that IN not done in an hour or a
day, or even a year, it will be
eU'eeted al last (perliaps alter many
failures! by prayer and perse-
veranee ; nay, it must be done
unless we \\iNli lo I ome the
servants and the slaves of bIii. —
^f. Y. Ohntrver.
- ..-♦■
AFUAID OK TIIK DARK
Hell was a sweet child of three
or four years. She was briifht
pleasant by day, but having
and
been once friglilened by a nurse
about " the dark " she would cry,
if she woke in the nii;hl, to be
taken into her inolliei's bed.
But her mother said, ' No, |{e||,
you must lie still in your little
crib ; but you may hold my hand
whenever you wake up."
So very often t' '' -l" r mother
would be wakened by the touch
of a Nilken hand. She would
clasp it I . • erown. and very soon
the dear baby would be oil' again
lo the land of dreams
Bell had never been separated
from her mother a single nielli
But the lady took heron her knee
one day and told her that dear
grandma was very ill and was
goinu: lo die, and that she must iro
away for a few days to be with
her. " Are you willing I should
go and comrort her ' " she asked
Te.irs lilled the blue eyes of
little Bell, and she choked so that
she could scarcely speak : " Yes,
y es, mamma; I want you to go
and comfort grandma, but — but—
who'll hold my little hand when
I'm afraid of the dark ? Papa don't
wake up as you do ! "
" My dear baby," said the kind
mother, " il is Jesus and not I,
who keeps you from harm by day
and night He is always beside
that little bed, and if you wake
and miss me, He will take your
hand."
"Then you may go, juamma;''
said Bell, smiling through her tears.
That night when Bell's lather
went to his room, he turned up
the gas a little, that he might see
I the dear baby face in Ihe crib.
There was a smile oyer the rosy
lips, and the little hand was
stretched out as if foi the grasp of
some protecting hand.
Perhaps in her dreams she was
reaching out her hand to Jesus.
He who said " Of such is tin
kingdom of her yen," has all the
dear little ones in His keeping
day and night ; and they are salVi
with Ilim." — Watrhman.
Thk Seeds of Gun Punishment
are sown when we commit sin ;
j the punishment itself is sure to
I come, sooner or later, as the inevita-
' ble haryestof our sowing. — Hesiod.
•^
r
^i
I, it net Hurry
wlliMl " I run t
let llIN li|IN llll
lli-r II. So li«<
'iirk (if iiiiiNltir-
i lllll'llrNN, IIMll
llllll llilll WIIN
iIh In ji work
I Jill lioiir or n
iir, it will 1)11
ii|ii itlicr iiiiiiiy
T llllll (HTNIt-
lUnt lie tloilf
I Imtoiiii' the
lnvt'ii of liii. —
III': DARK
chilli III' lliri'c
II' wiiH liriirht
ly. lint linviiii^
I'll liy Ik iiiirmi
sill' woiilil rry,
■ iiiiihl, to Ik;
Iii'i'n Iti'd.
.iii.l, ■ No, Hi'll,
ill voiir Hull'
liolil my hiiiiil
I' U|>."
' '1" r mother
i liy I he toilrh
I. She woiil'l
, mill very hodii
III III' oll'iii^iiiii
UN
lieeii Ni'|>nriili'il
II Niiiule iiiulil
ler on her knee
her thai deiir
y ill mill WIIH
ml nIii' iiiUKt IT"
VN to tie with
lliiii; I nHoiiIiI
! " mIu' nskeil
1)1 lie eyeN of
:hokeil HO tliiit
Hpeiik : " Yen,
vunt yon to fjit
nil, liut — hut —
tie hiiiul when
k? Pupa don't
I "
' said tho kind
UN and not I,
in hiirin hy day
lilwayB henide
1 if you wake
will lake your
go, mamma ;''
rouijhher tears.
n Uell'H lather
he turned up
t he might tiee
CO in Iho crib.
over tho rosy
tie hand was
i'oi the grasp of
ind.
Ireains she was
and to Jesus.
Of suoh is tho
n," has all tho
n His keeping
d tlioy aru safe
hman.
m rilNISHMKNT
re commit sin ;
tself is sure to
3r,astheinevita-
)wing. — Hesiiid.
KKIMUNTKI) SI'dJllKS. |."IH)M rili: • NOHTIIKUN MKSSKNdKn"
ClIUIHTIKS OIIHISTMAH
9^^
NT rAIMT.
CIIAPTKR I
It b<i,fan, likn moat Cliri*tiii«a
day*, a long whilo iM-lnrelitiid.
That In, the gpitinir realy lor ii
beuaii The Irnlli i<, It witn one
Very wiinn day in AiiirUHl that ihe
plan* lor ( liimiies (>hriiitiiiii«
wero funned. They were all out
under llie i;real elm-tree in the
hack yard, .it work trying to keep
cool , an Karl laid, who had hm
torn HliMW hat I'ur a Ian, and waa
lyiiii; at lull length under the
tree. ('liriHiie waa aewiiig, tak-
OllUlSllli WAH 8KWINII.
inir ({iiick little businesg-like
gtiti'hPH on a long seain, the haliy
was pulling lirst at her work, and
then at Karl's hat ; Nettie was
under tlie tree, loo, hut fast anleep,
one chuhliy hand supporting her
red cheek. Tho mother nf all
these little Tuckers was there.too,
■ewing another long seam. There
was ever so much to do in the
Tucker family, and when any of
them sat down to rest, there was
sure to ho long seams to sew,
patches to set, or holes to darn.
■' Knrl," tho mother said, " keep
the flies off Nettie, can't you V
they are eating her up."
" I must go," said Karl, but he
arose on t<;ie elbow and began
lazily to tan away the flies ; " I
guess my half-hour is up ; father
said I was to rest for half an hour,
because my cheeks got so red be
was afraid 1 would be sun-struck ;
it is awful hot out in the Held.
I'll tell you where I wish I was
this minute ; I'd like to be in uncle
ilaniel's ice-house. What a thing
it must be to have ice-houses and
everything you want."
" We can have an ice-house just
as well AS not, by Christmas
time," said Christie, biting otf her
thread; " If I had a chance to be
at uncle Daniel's a little while, I'd
take care to see something difiier-
^ ent from ice-houses — something
j I that we can't ever hare." As she
apok», she drew a long breath,
like one whoan heart was full ol
thliiua that she inlvht say, if she
would. Karl wnlehod tier onri-
ounly rroiii Im'Iii'hI hm hat
"What ihiiig* are there at
uiK'U Uaniel'ii that yiui never ex-
pert !o hariiy he aHked at laat.
" LutHof thein.earpelii, and nice
furniture, and inetiireN. ami hooka,
and a piano, oh my !" She caught
her liruatli auain. and aeenu'd to
think it lieHt to Hlop, lent alie
ahould aay too inueli.
" 1 wouliln't earo a lig lor Ihe
rariiels and luriilture, but I'd like
well enough to have some of the
books. A history or two,
maybe, and, like enoiiiiih, a
jihyHieai ^reo'.rraphy : but
ihoHi' lliinuH I iiii'an to have
touio day, willioiit ijoiiig
to UIH'le Dalllel'ii Wliiit
good would It do to look
at thinva, if you didn't
own tliein I"
" I think it would be
nice ' hiive Olio goo. I look
V ;hem all ; you eouxl
iliiiik out liow other lolks
live a great deal eaiier
alter that. '
" Well." xaid Karl, after
a tlimiglillul pauHe, " may-
be you will have a clinU'e
Rome day ; it ihu'I ho awlul
far '> uncle Daniel's, now
that liie ' il- iy is done.
How do you know nut you
will go and make them n
viiil V'
Over this nild BUguoS'
lion, Christie laughed, and
broke her thiead in her
nervoiiBiies.'* ; but the
mother looked up with a
Hignilicaiil nod of her heai? " I
mean you shall, child," she said
deeideilly ; " 1 ineant it for n sur-
piise, but mayho you will like
thinking it over, and planning for
it, better than the surprise. Your
father and I miide up our minds
that wii would have you go and
Bpeiid a whole day at your uncle
Daniel's, and see all the things
J hat you want to see so much ;
they've invited us often enough
and we mean to do it"
Karl sal upright, and his cheeks
were nearly as red as Christie's
and both the children »aiil
'•When?" ill KUch lou<l. eay:er
tones, that th ' liiiby imiiiiMlialely
said it alter them, an<l then
sat down on the grass and
l.iughed immoderately at her
own smartne.'is. As she had
never said this word before,
Christie, even in her excitement,
had to bund down and kiss the
baby's mouth.
•Well," said Mrs. Tucker,
speaking slowly and impressively,
" if nothing more than we know
of now, happens, we have decided
that you shall spend the whole of
Christinas day at your uncle's.
Ton are to go up on the train that
passes at bevon in the morning,
and back on the six o'clock,
and that will give yon nine whole
hours at your uncle Daniel's. I'm
sure that will give you time to
see a good many thinga. I don't tlicn they oujlit In have mittena.
know what your father will nay too.or Homelhiiiir.hut I don't know
to iiiv telling you of it, bill you do »» we rmilil in itia«i' about ao
like io dreiiin out things BO well, I i'mh'i \ irn , dear im' ' there ia a
thoiiifhl you might liki to dream great , nl to do, and only a liltio
over llial." till! ■ to do it III , Hot i|uile four
■till my : " aald Cliriatie ; herluonlha, I deilare ' Mow time
woilv lell at bar fett ilia heap, doea go. to be Niin
aiiil li.ib^ aeued it and rolleil
o\er on It, and ehuekled. Then
CliriKiie Haul 'Oh my!" agjiiii,
tills time at baby, and added.
•" Ymi will noraleh yourself mi
thai needle," and Hlnoped and
gathered up her work The
mother \^ent on wilh her wonder-
ful story
'"We've liceii thinking about it
for a ){ood while, your father and
I, hut it waHoiilv hiNi iiiKht that
Then did Clirittie and Karl look
nt eiu II olhi'i , ulai a full of
elirioiH aNtoiiiHliiiHlit Nothing
Hi'eined to them to move no hIoW
ly natline It aeemi'd lo CliriBtlS
tiiiil ChriNlinaN il.iy would n^'VPr
come, never in the world '
Hut It did. And it found the
Tucker laiiiily up very eai'v in
the iiio" iiiif. A KeroNi'ii'' lamp
was biiilii i\{ III I'i'ery riMnii in the
lower part ol the liiMl«e. by lour
wu mad" our iniii'l^ up H<|Uarely irrloik l'°or wasii I Ihe siutioii a
that \.iii»h"iild go, il we could < mile away, and waxiit Chriaiie to
brill- II ttb lilt, and 1 guess we lake her tirnl ride on llie cars that
can. I winli il was bo that you niorning / How pretty she look-
and Kail could go together, but 1 ,.,l |„ |„.|- trim new huii ' New?
we don't know how to manage [ Wdl, yes, new lo her Who wr.S
that iiiiw, that'sa Tail ;iii'd t'hiisl- (joing to kimw, unless Nhe told
mas (l.iy iH ChrislirN birihdiiy, | ihein. that llie brown travelling
yoii know Karl, aii'l iM.Nides she , dress, sack and all, was made
IK two yens older than you. ller (r„in an old water-proof I'loak that
'auni l.i<iniKa had lell th<>re one
lay
llllll oiiirlit to come lirst
" Coiu.'e,"" said Karl sturdily,
but he Hhaded IiIn fare entirely
wilh hiH hat, and let the Hies bite
Nettie in pence lor about a
inimile. What a tliiiii.' it vonjil
bo to take a ride on the steam
ears' No, he hid never been on
them ill lii.^ life. Neither had
Chrisiio but then sli" wiio a '.;irl ;
he wondered if il could bo so
hard lor girls as for IiOvh.
'•lint, inolhor," said ChiiHtie
timidly, "it costs an awi'nl lot of
monev to tide on the cars."
" 1 l<now it does Kii,'hty-five
cents til 10, and eighty-livo cents
back; that's a dollar and seventy
cents! It sooins a good deal to
spend ; but it is your birthday, and
il is ChriNtnios il .y, and you've
worked hard, and father and Karl
and 1 think you ought logo; don't
we, Karl !"
•• Yes'm," said Karl, and if his
voice trembled a little, his mother
pretended not to no-
tice it.
■' Yes, " she said
cheerily, 'that's what
we do, and we are
going to work for it;
there is a great deal
to be done between
now and then ; there's
some yeast cakes 1
will want to send to
your aunt Louisa; and
some mittens for tho
baby, and if I can
bring it about, Vm go-
ing lo tie a comfort
lor his little bed ; your
aunt Louisa said they
were nice things, the
last time she was here,
and your father thinks
thare will bo a bag of
choice apples that we
can put in for them ;
and I thought maybe
Karl and you would
want to gather a few
nuts for your cousins ;
leraiise |l reallv was not
worth boiheriiig lo ifii it into the
trunk I Aunt Louisa lierself
would not K.we recoirni/.od it
luw. It 11.. ' Ue'u tutlied, and
Npiiiiiri'd and presseil .iliil nit and
liu<'d and Irimiiieil, with rows
upon '.'OWN of in.i. 'llllll' niititliing
ol tho Very nealent sort. How
many little liii;,'i'rH had helped to
gel Christie ready for her lirst
going out into the great woi-ld!
There was Susan Itritrirs the tai-
loress. home on a few days' visit
lo her mother, their next neigh-
bor, and one evening when she
ran in to seo tlie I'ucke-"* she h»d
said: "Why, you wo l tjave
enough of that for some ol those
cunning little cut-away jackets
that they wear so much ! iivi me
look at it : I do bolievo I could
f[ot one out. Why, dear mo! it
las a large cape too ; yes, I know
I could. Shall I cut it out for yon,
X
M0BT
HKl'UINTED STORIES, FROM THK ' NOllTIIKRN MKSSKN(JK1{.
n
MrH Tuckur? Oli, iionsonse ! I
wuald just as Boon do it, as to sit
here with my hands folded.
Hand me the shears, ( 'hristie ! I've
got my pattern in my pocket ; I
lent it to Jane Aiine Wh" '.or, audi
met her coming to bring it home,
just as I turned the cornor to-
night. Wasn't that foriniiato ?
I'll tell you v'hai it is, Christie
Tucker, we'll have a nice little
cut-away jackot for you before
you knov? it. What are you go-
ing to trim the dress with?"
" Oh dear me ! " said Mrs.
Tucker, "don't talk to us about
trimming; it has been just as
much as we could do to pucker
the necessary things foifcther to
make the dress. You see, Susan,
a journey makes so much ex-
penses ; she had to have a new
pair of gloves, and a pair of shoes,
and altogether it counts up; she
will have to go without trim-
ming."
Then did Susan sit in quiet, her
busy shears snipping the cloth
most skilfully, her busy brain
considering the while ; at last she
spoke her thoughts.
" I'll tell you what it is, Mrs.
Tucker, thin goods would look
beautifully stitched on the ma-
chine ; suppose we change works !
if you will do some buttonholes
for me, I'll take this home and
give it throe rows on mother's ma-
chine ; you do make buttonholes
clegaiktly, and I'd rather stitch,
any day, than to make them."
And the gratified mother who
would not tiave accepted charity
to get trimming for her daughter,
was nevertheless willing to get it
by changing work ; so the three
rows of stitching were added, and
very prettythey looked. Then,one
evening, came Mr8.Briggs,Su8an'8
mother, to sit awhile with her
knitting, and tucked away in her
pocket was a pretty little ruffle of
finest cambric, hemmed with the
smallest of stitches, gathered in
infinitesimal puckers, and care-
fully fluted by Mrs. Briggs' own
skilful hands.
"There!" she B<\id, bringing it
out, " I was making ruffles for my
girls, and there was a little speck
over — I promised them three
Hpiece, you know, and this was
left over — and, thinks I to myself,
that will just make Christie a
ruflle to wear when she goes her
first journey ; so I made it for a
little Christmas present for you,
child ; and you must pay me by
telling me about all the wonder-
ful things you saw on the way."
How pretty the little white
ruffle was ! And how pleased was
Christie, and how more than
pleased was her mother. It was
80 nice for people to lake an in-
terest in Christie
At last everything was ready.
The basket, ol choice apples was
paclied, the bag of yeast cakes
was slowed away in the old-
fiishioued, flowered carpet satchel
that had gone on journey by
water, and journey by stage, a
lung time ago, but bad never in
its life taken a ride by steam.
There were other choice things
in the satchel— mittens and wrist
warmers, and the cay patch-work
comfort for the baby's bed; and
there was another basket for the
nuts that had been gathered at
just the right time to be at their
best.
" I don't know how yon will
ever get out of the cars loaded
down so," father Tucker said,
looking a little anxious, " But I
guess the conductor will help
you ; I'll speak to him about it."
" And do be careful, Christie,"
said mother Tucker ; " it seems to
me as though the cars must be
dangerous things, going so fast.
I'm most sorry I gave my consent
to having you go ofi alone ; it is a
pretty risky thing for a young
girl like you."
" O mother," said Karl, "nothing
will hurt her. I wouldn't be
afraid to go to New York all
alone."
" Yes, I know," said the wise
little mother, regarding him with
boy only three or four years older
than himself, was there with his
sleigh and pony to see his sister
otf to school. Karl, after his milk
can was diijposed of, on the hand
freight car, had leisuie to watch
Wells Burton. How he took his
sister's satchel of booKs, and her
shawl strap, and walked beside
her to the steps of the car and
helped her up, and sprang gayly
in after her ; then Karl could see
him through the windows.walking
down the aisle of the car,sometimes
turning a seat, then settling the
books and the shawl strap on
some shelf or hook that seemed to
be overhead ; Karl had never
been near enough to investigate
how it was fixed, for his strict
orders were on no account to step
on the cars. But ho had watched
Wells Burton all through the fall ;
ho knew just how to do it, and
ho was burning with an eager
desire to do it for Christie. Great,
then, was his disappointment
when his father appeared in his
best boots, atid v> .h his great
coat and heavy mittens.
" You will have two passen-
f. ers, my boy, this morning," he
said cheerily ; "oh, yes, I'm going.
I couldn't let my girl start out in
world alone."
"Now, do be careful," said
mother, following her treasure
out of the door, and down the
snowy path to the great wood
sleigh, where the can of milk
wos already tucked in among
bags and blankets; "don't open
the window to look at anything,
and mind you don't put your
head out ; I've heard
that it is dangerous ;
and remember all I
told you to tell
Louisa iind the rest ;
and mind and wrap
the big shawl around
you well, when you
ride to the station.
.\iid don't you let
them coax you to
stay all night for
anything in the
world. I shouldn't
sleep a wink if you
did, and I guess may-
be I'd start on fooc
to see what was the
matter."
TUB BAiiv SAT DOWNONTiiK Between these sen-
(IRASS AND LAUaiiED. tences, Christie was
kind motherly eyes ; " but then,
you are a boy, and buys are ex-
pected to take care of themselves,
and look after t'ae girls besides."
Karl's dark cheeks flushed over
this, and he answered cheerily,
" Well, I'll take good care of her ;
I'll go on the cars and pick her
out a seat, and settle all her bas-
kets and bundles.
If the whole truth were told,
Karl Tucker looked forward to
this performance almost as eager-
ly as Christie did to the journey,
livery morning he drove to the
depot and sent a can of milk into
the city by the early train. And
every morning Wells Burton, a
being kissed and
hugged, until what with the
bundling up, and the frosty air,
and a feelitig as though she was
going away off into a great cold
world, and might never see any
of the dear people in the little old
farmhouse any more, she felt as
though she should choke, or may-
be cry ; and that would be almost
worse !
At last they were off! The
mother came in and held the baby
up at the window to watch the
sleigh as it turned the corner,and
slipped out of sight, and then she
said:
" How Mrs. Burton stands it to
let her little girl go to the city
every day to school, I don't see!
Seems to me I should fly away
with anxiety ; but there is nothing
like getting used to things Dear
me ! It doesn't seem right to have
the child go off on Christmas day ;
but then it was her birthday, and
all ; and she'll be back to supper
and be hungry enough, I'll war-
rant ; thnre'll be so many dishes,
and silver, and things at Daniel's,
that she can't do much eating.
I'll have stewed chicken, and bis-
cm s smothered in cream gravy,
and hot apple sauce, to surprise
her ; see if I don't ! Come, Nettie
dear, you're the only little girl
mother has to help her to-day,
and we must fly around. What
should I do if I hadn't Christie to
help every day, is more than I
can think.' And, thank the Lord,
I haven't got it to think.
But she wiped away the tears
as she hurried to her work, for
Christie had never been away
from home before a whole day in
her life. What, not even to
school ? No, not even to school.
(To be continued.)
A HORSE THAT COUNTS.
A certain horse in Sayreville for
twenty years has been a cart-
horse in a brick-yard, and the ha-
bit of going through a certain
round of duties day after day for
eight months in the year has en-
abled him to do things which
seem to itidicate possession of
mental faculties similar to some of
those possessed by the human
race. It is an old saying among
the farmers that crows cannot
count more than three, but this
horse has the ability to count
sixty-five. His routine of Ijibor is
to cart sixty-five loads of clay
from the pit to the spot where
the clay is mixed or ground and
then go for a load of coal dust; and
now, without atiy thing being said
or done to indicate the fact to him,
when he has deposited his sixty-
fifth load, he turns away from the
clay pit and goes to the dock for
a load of dust. This is not the
only peculiarity, for when he goes
to the pit, he backs the cart up to
the right place, atid will take
only what ho conceives to be his
proper load. If more is put on,
he backs and kicks and rattles the
cart about until the load is re-
duced to what he considers a pro-
per quantity. Having such an
intellectual capacity, it is not sur-
prising to learn that he will not
be driven. As soon as the reins
are touched he becomes fractious
and uiimana^ -able, but a gentle
explanation of what is required
usually has the desired eUect. —
Children's Friend.
Good Men have the fewest
fears. He has but one who fears
to do wrong. He has a thousand
who has overcome that one.
Hk 18 NOT "nly idle who does
nothing, but ho is idle who might
be better employed.
m
1, I doii't see!
3uld fly away
tere is uothing
things Dear
i right to hare
'hristmas day ;
birthday, and
tack to supper
ough, I'M war-
many dishes,
gs at Daniel's,
much eating,
icken, and bis-
cream gravy,
:c, to surprise
Come, Nettie
nly little girl
p her to-day,
round. What
In't Christie to
I more than I
lank the Lord,
hink.
way the tears
her work, for
r been away
I whole day in
not even to
iven to school.
inued.)
r COUNTS.
I Sayreville tor
been a cart-
d, and the ha-
igh a certain
y after day for
year has en-
things which
possession of
lilar tosorae of
y the human
saying among
crows cannot
hree, but this
ility to count
itinu of Ijibor is
loads of clay
le spot where
•r ground and
1' coal dust; and
ling being said
the fact to him,
iited hi.s sixty-
away from the
.0 the dock for
his is not the
• when he goes
the cart up to
ind will take
eivcs to be his
ore is put on,
and rattles the
tie load is re-
>nBider8 a pro-
ving such an
r, it is not sur-
al he will not
II as the reins
omes fractious
, but a gentle
it is required
sired ellect. —
^e the fewest
one who fears
las a thousand
that one.
idle who does
lie who might
w
RKPRINTKI) STORIKS. FROM TirK " NORTIIKRN MKSSENC.KR."
-mm
H
CHRISTIE'S CHHISTMAS.
BT FANST.
CHAPTER I.-Con/inw'.
It is time I told you a little
more about the Tucker family.
They lived away "out West. "
That is, if you live in New York,
or Brooklyn, or Maine, or ISoston,
or New Haven, or even in Cleve-
land or Cincinnati, you might call
it away "out West," for it was
in Kansas.
lived an entirely different life
from the Tuckers. He was Mrs.
Tucker's youngest brottjer, was a
merchant, and had one of the
finest stores in the fine little city,
and was what the Western peo-
ple called a rich man. The
Tuckers saw very little of them,
for the reason that twenty miles
in a country where there are no
railways, are not easily gotten
over, especially by busy people ;
and it was not yet quite a year
since the branch railway
came within a mile of the
Tucker's farm. Since then,
the country around had
begun to hold up its head.
A good school had been
started, a neat little church
had been built, and to the
church the Tuckers tramp-
ed every Sabbath day. But
the school they had not
suceeded in getting time
to attend.
"By next year," Mr-
Tucker had said, " we
must try hard for it."
He said it again that
very morning, on the road
to the depot.
Chapter II.
It was very pleasant rid-
ing to the depot in the
early light of the win'er
morning. A ride of any
KAUi, swi'NH OFF A.M0NO THE BOUGHS. soTt was a treat to Christie.
There was always so much
to do in the little home in the
morning, and when evening was
closing in, that she conid rarely
be spared to ride to the station
with Karl ; so that, really, for the
third time in her life, did she ex-
pect to gaze on the cars !
" It isn't your first ride after
the iron horse, by any means,"
her father said to her. " 'lore
than a thousand miles yon rode,
and y 'U stood it well, too ; were
just as gO"d as you could be, and
gave mother and me no trouble
at all ; in fact you seemed to be
anxious to amuse Karl, and help
him to have a good time. But
you were such a little dot I don't
suppose you remember anything
about it."
" Why, father," said Karl, " she
wasn't three years old then! How
could she remember it?"
"Well, I don't know ; seems to
me I remember my mother, and
I wasn't quite three years old
when she died ; but then folks
remember mothers, I s'pose, longer
than they do anything else. They
ought to. Well, Christie, my girl,
keep your eyeo open to-day, and
, see what you can learn. My
New England home, had been : father used to tell me— your old
the best reader and speller in the | grandfather, you know, who died
whole school, had tanght them in j before you were born— he used
both these branches very care- 1 to say to me, ' Learn all you can,
fully And so, though they had John, about anything and every-
not many books to read, what thine ; there is no telling when a
they had were very carefully j chance may pop up for you to use
read, and very well understood, what you thought you never
Uncle Daniel lived in the hand- would use.' It's a good rule. I
some city that had sprung up practised on it once when I saw
twenty miles further east, and he I a man making a waggon ; I
The Tuckers wont there from
New England when Karl was a
baby, and had been working
away on th'eir bit of a farm ever
since. A city had grown up
about twenty miles from them,
but it had not grown where Mr.
Tucker thought it would, when
he bought his little farm, and
not even a school had come with-
in five miles of them until lately.
I am not so very sure that it
would have done the Tucker
children muoh good if there had ;
the truth ' ..s, there was such
hard work, .nd so much of it, to
feed all Ih', mouths, and clothe
the stout little bodies, that both
Christie and Karl had had to
work hard all day long. You
need not suppose that on this ac-
count they did not know any-
thing. I fancy they were almost
as good scholars as some who go
to school year after year. Mr.
Tucker had taught them, in the
long winter evenings, to cipher,
and had studied geography with
them on a big old map of the
United State8,thathe had brought
with him from New England.
And Mrs. Tucker, who, in her
watchad just how he fixed the
wheel and the holes for the nails,
and everything, and I said, right
out loud, ' It isn't any ways likely
that I shall ever make a waggon,
but then I might as well know
how you do it.' And it wasn't a
week after that we broke down
going across the prairie, your
mother and me and two children;
and if I hadn't known just how
to fix that wheel we would have
frozen to death likely enough be-
fore we could get anywhere."
"Well," Christie said, laughing
a little, "I don't suppose 1 shall
ever make o train of cars, but I'll
learn how if 1 can."
" There's no telling," her father
isaid, 'what will come of one day ;
'they are curious things, days are;
!like enough you may see some-
I thing to-day that will help you
I along all your life; and for the
matter of that, yoxi might see
'plenty of things to hinder you all
[your life; that's what makes such
: solemn business of living. Only
there's one comfort ; you can shut
your eyes to the evil things, and
say : I won't remember one of
them; I'll have nothing to do
with them. And the good things
yon can mark and lay away in
your mind for future use. Well,
here we are, I declare. Old Sam
has trotted along pretty fast this
morning. Now, my man,you may
help Christie out, and get her
ticket, and put her on the train
all right, and I'll stay here and
take care of Sam."
Then did Karl's face glow !
But he made a pretence of objec-
tion: "Why, father, I can take
care of Sam if you want to go."
" No, no, my boy, I can trust
yon to look after Christie ; you'll
have plenty of time ; they've got
a lot of freight to load this morn-
ing, and yon can go in and find
her a seat, and do it all up like a
man. Sam and I will tend to
each other out here.
I'll just set the satchel
on the steps there, so
yon can reach it easy,
and then I'll drive
around to the shed."
Good, thoughtful
father ! Putting quiet-
ly away his own de-
sire to see his little gir
safely launched for her
first journey; putting
back with resolute
hand the vague foarthat
Karl might not help
her properly, or might
not get off the train in
time, and so harm
might come to one or
both of them. Well he
knew that a vchole
array of "mights" and
" might nots" lay all
along life's journey
with which to make
himself miserable, and
there was nothing for
it but to seize the
doubts with resolute
hand and hold them
back 80 that thi y need
not cripple the youii!.^ lives under
his care. Ho remembered how,
when Karl climbed the tree and
swung off in a daring way
among the slender-looking
boughs, he had to shut his eyes
and ask <iod to take care of the
boy, and keep the father from cry-
ing out, and so help to make his
son a coward. He felt a little bit
like that this morning. Only the
memory of the apple-tree helped;
there were no trees now that
Karl couldn't climb. They
moved away briskly, that little
man and woman ; Christie run-
ning hack once to give father one
more kiss, and to assure him that
she woulil certainly be in time for
the evening train. And once he
called after her, and ran forward
to tell her to say to uncle Daniel
thot he could have a cow in the
spring, like the one he wanted
last fall. And then he went back
to his horse, and the boy and girl
entered the depot together. Karl
went forward, business written
on every line of his manly face as
he called for and paid for a ticket,
and stood by protectingly while
Christie pinned it in the corner of
her handkerchief into her pocket.
Then he made a little heap of the
basket of apples, and the basket
of nuts, and the flowered satchel
and the shawl, making business-
like comments the while.
" You must have the conductor
lift off" these baskets for yon,
Christie ; they always do that for
folks travelling alone. You don't
have to give up your ticket, yon
know ; the conductor makes a little
hole in it, and then gives it back ;
he won't take it until you are al-
most at the city. And Christie,
mother said I was to remind you
the last thing, not to get ofi° the
cars until you saw uncle Daniel,
and knocked on the window for
him to come for you ; mother wor-
ried about your getting off alone."
WEI.LS BURTON 8POKR TO THE TADY.
w
w
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE -NORTHERN MESSENGER."
THKIiK'S THK TRAIN !
"And what," said Christie,
"should I do if uncle Daniel
didn't get there in lime, and I
had to get otF?" She moved
closely to Karl as she spoke, and
felt as though thoir ages wore re-
versod.and she was ton and he was
twelve, and wished with all her
timid little heart that he was go-
ing along to lake care of her. He
had seen the cars so often.
"Oh, well," her protector said
reassuringly, " he will be there,
of course ; he knows just how
mother feels. But then if he
shouldn't, you needn't bo one
mite atraid;itis just as easy to
step olf. I shouldn't mind it at all.
I've seen Wells lUirlon swing
himself off with his hands iu his
pockets; he does it Just as easy as
you step down from the back
stoop. There he is now ! Look,
Christie, the boy just turning the
corner !"
lie came leisurely down the
snowy walk, whistling a merry
tune ; a tall, liandtomo boy, dress-
ed in a well-iitting suit of Knest
quality and of city make. He
nodded his head good-humoredly
to a man who stood leaning
against the post, and lilted his cap
politely to a ludy who was ap-
proaching from the other end.
" I wonder what he is going in
for to-day?" murmured Karl,
watching him with fascinated
gaze. " There isn't any school for
a week; i heard him tell Mr.
Lewis so yesterday. Du you sup-
pose he can be going just lor the
fun of it?"
There was a touch of awe in
Karl's voice. It seemed such a
wondei'I'ul thinij for a boy hut a
"Oh, no, (hey were not fright-
ened. I telegraphed of course as
M soon as I found out how it was.
I thoughtmamma might be a trifle
worried.
" No, ma'am, I walked down
this morning, it is such a bore to
be always riding. Since there
was nobody but myuolf I thonght
I would have the fun of a walk in
the snow."
What wonderful talk was this !
KnrI, looking and listening, forgot
for a moment his own importance
that morning, and actually gave
a sigh. To hear a boy so little
older than himself talk so com-
posedly about going into town
and out of town, and spend-
ing the night alone, and tele-
graphing, and dismissing the
handsome sleigh and ponies for
the fun of a walk, it was almost
loo much ! He looked over at
the handsome, well dressed fel-
low with a strange wjstfulness ;
and the gray pateho.s on his knees
looked larger and coarser than
ever before, and the red tippet
around his neck seemed almost
to choke him. What a ditlerence
there was in their lives,to be sure !
"Talk about houses," he said
to Christie, speaking some of his
thoughts aloud, " you ought to see
the inside of their house ! I
gueos uncle Daniel's is nothing
to it. Nick
Barton has
been there
with freight;
been up-
stairs in
three or four
o I their
rooms, carry,
ing heavy
things, you
know, and
says it is per-
fectly splen-
did, the fur-
niture and
everything.
He was tell-
ing me about it last night ; he says
they've got hvo pianos.ortwo great
big music things in different
rooms, and Iwoks ! Nick says
there are books enough to till the
church, he should think."
"I'd liki- to see the outside of
their house," Christie said wist-
fully " I don't ever expect to see
the inside. Hut Karl, in the sum-
ing from wistfniness to piiv. flew |>:ist them! Everything
" Yes, there is ; he can't walk, i seemed to be afraid of them, and
only on crutches, and looks pale hurrying to get out of their way.
lew years older than himself to boiraer, mother said you and 1 would
possibly ruling around on the
cars fur the fun of it, as he some-
times rode a horse to water ! As
if in explanation of his wonder-
ment. Wells Burton spoke to the
lady who had addressed him.
" No, ma'am, our people are all
walk over that way and see all
around it. Do you suppose
they will be there in the sum-
mer ?"
"Of course," said Karl, "they built
the new house lor the summer.
They didn't tneati (o stay hero in
in town; went in yesterday to! the winter at all. Nick told me
fip<Mid Christinas at my grand- : last night ; h>' says they jtist came
lather's. 1 was to have none there down to settle it, and see to
last evening but 1 didn't get my things ; and the sick young man
j)»p.i'H message in Itino, and so took a fancy to stay ; so they all
came home as usual and had to stayed
slay here all night.
Well, no, not alone, exactly
Nu'k said he
i
The servants are all at home, you
knov/ ; but it seemed rather
lonely.
didn't
think it would last long, but he
iriu'^si'il maybe they would stay
all winter."
" Is there a sick young man'?"
Christie's voice was chang-
and weak ; and when he goes in
to the city, Nick says some great
strong man takes him right in his
arms and lifts him into the cars ;
and he is twenty years old."
" Poor young man ! " said
Christie.
And she envied the Burton
familr no more.
"There's the train I" said Karl,
his voice full of suppressed ex-
citement. " Now, Christie, don't
you touch one of those bundles.
I'll tend to them all; and, Chris-
tie," — this in a lower tone — "if
anything should happen that
uncle Daniel shouldn't be there,
and you shouldn't see the con-
ductor, this boy would help you
olf if you should just ask him,and
he could tell you just where to
go to wait; he knows all about
the city, you see."
"Oh," said Christie, shrinking
back, and clinging to Karl's tip-
pet, " I couldn't speak to him,
Karl; I couldn't indeed. I'd
rather get off alone a great deal ;
and I'm most sure uncle Daniel
will be there."
"So am I. Don't worry I Now
come !"
And the great moment had
arrived. Karl shouldered the
bundles with
the air of one
used to carry-
ing many
things, set
them skill-
fully on the
steps of the
p) a tfo rm,
then came
down again
for Chris-
tie, piloted
her safely
through the
car, found a
seat for her,
d i s covered
that there was a convenient little
wire house above the seat where
shawls and parcels were placed,
arranged hers for her, and in fact
did everything that an experi-
enced traveller could have done
for her comfort. He had not used
his eyes for nothing. Hut now a
brakesman was snouting " All
iiboard !" and he must leave her
to herself. He bent down for
one last word just as Wells Bur-
ton sauntered iu with the air of
an old traveller who had lingered
outside until the latest moment :
"Remember, Christie, if any-
thing should happen — which
there won't, it isn't likely — I
shouldn't be afraid to ask that
THEY WEEK REALLY OFF.
What a queer noise the cars
made ! And they shook so r As
though they were angry, Christie
thought. She and Karl had of-
ten tried to imagine what riding
on the cars felt like, but they cer-
tainly had never succeeded. By
degrees, as she became accustom-
ed to the strange motion, our lit-
tle traveller gained courage to
look about her. She had a greaiL
desire to act like other people,
and in order to do this, it would
be necessary to find out how
other people acted. Opposite her
sat a man with fray hair, and gold
spectacles, and a very large gold
watch. I liri.'-tie liked to look at
him.
" He is good," she said to her-
self '• I know ho is. I wonder
if he's somebody's grandpa going
homo for Christmas. I suppose
he doesn't look like my grandpa
out in New York, but 1 wish he
did. 1 suppose he is taking his
grandchildren some nice pre-
ents ; books, maybe. I wish he
would come over here and sit, and
tell me about them."
This thought made her look di-
rectly in front of her, to see who
had the seat which she wanted
for her old gentleman. It was a
young man with a pale, dis-
contented face. He seemed to
be in a great hurry, for he looked
at his watch three times during
the few minutes that Christie
watched him ; yet when a lady
who sat in front of him suddenly
turned and asked hijn to please
tell her what time it was, he
started as though he were not
used to being spoken to, and said :
" What ? I bog your pardon.
Oh, the time ! I really do not
know, but I'll see." And out
came the watch again.
How could Christie help gig-
ling ? It did seem so funny to
her. She did not mean he should
hear her, but ho did, for he dart-
ed at her a quick, annoyed look,
which, however, softened when
he saw what a shy, ashamed little
thing it was.
Now Christie was not used to
strangers, and felt almost afraid
to speak ; but she had been
brought up to be careful of other
people's feelings, and she was
afraid she had hurt this young
man. She slipped forward on
her seat and touched his arm.
Her voice trembled a little :
•'If you please, sir," she said,
" I hope you will forgive me for
laughing. I couldn't help it; it
seemed so funny to look at such a
lovely Watch as that without
boy about things ; ho looks good- ' knowing what it said. But I did
natured. And, Christie, mind and
come home to-night, even if you '
have to walk." i
There was a sudden clanging
of the bell, a final howl from the
locomotive, a jerk which almost
threw Christie from her seat, and
they were really off. How swift-
ly the trees and barns and fences, manneni. — Swift
not mean to bo rude. Mother
would be ashamed of me."
{To be rinUinned.)
A Man is known by his com-
pany, and his company by his
I
-^^i%
^.f^
Everything
of thorn, and
of their way.
liso the cars
hook BO r As
iiSfry, Christie
Karl had of-
what riding
, but they cer-
coeeded. By
imo accustom-
lotion, our lit-
L courage to
10 had a greaik
other people,
his, it would
lid out how
Opposite hor
tiair, uiul gold
■ry larjre gold
I'll to look at
a said to her-
is. I wonder
nindpa e:oiiig
s. I suppose
J my grandpa
ut 1 wish ho
is taking his
e nice pre-
I wish ho
•0 and sit, and
.6 her look di-
r, to see who
\ she wanted
in. It was a
a pale, dis-
u seemed to
for he looked
times during
that Christie
when a lady
aim suddenly
Un to please
it was, he
were not
to, and said :
our pardon.
ally do not
And out
help gig-
funny to
■iui he should
for he dart-
noyed look,
ftened when
hamed little
not used to
I most afraid
had been
till of other
d she was
this young
forward on
1 his arm.
little:
" she said,
give me for
help it; it
ok at such a
at without
But I did
Mother
me."
ed.)
>y his com-
iny by his
«!
m^m
UEIMUNTKO STOUIKS. I-'IIO.M 'rill'; •• NOHTHKRN MKSSKNCIKU."
i
CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS.
BT 7UIBT.
CHAPTEK II.— CoiKtniKd.
If the young man had been be-
wildered when the lady spoke to
him, he was too much astonished
now to say a word. He just
stared for a minute at the burning
cheeks, as though he felt like say-
ing:
" What in the world can you
be talking about ?" At last he
spoke.
" There is no harm done, my
little friend. I had already for-
gotten that you laughed. My
thoughts were too busy about
other things, and too sad to pay
much attention to watches, or to
think of anything but getting
over the ground as fast as pos-
sible.''
" Wo go very fast," said Chris-
tie earnestly.
She wanted to comfort the
young man, his voice sounded so
sad. He smiled faintly.
"Do you think soV It seems
to me that we almost creep."
Christie caught her breath to
keep from expressing too great
surprise. It seemed to her that
they almost flow.
He saw the astonishment on
her face, and explained :
" A hundred miles from here I
have a very sick friend. If I
could get to her in time, I think
I might help her. Do you won-
der that the train seems to me to
move very slowly ?"
"No, Sir;" said Christie, with
great sympathetic eyes. "If
mother were sick, I should want
to fly."
She sat back after tliat, and the
young man took a telegram from
his pocket, and seemed to study
it. Then he took a newspaper,
and seemed to others to be read-
ing it ; but Christie saw that part
of the time it was upside down.
She felt very sorry for him, and
could not help glancing at him
occasionally with a tender smile
on her face; especially as he
smiled back, and seemed to like
her sympathy.
Chapter III.
Christie had other travelling
companions who interested her
very much. At the first stopping-
place a lady with a little fellow
hardly out of babyhood came and
took the seat just behind her.
She had to twist herself around
to get a view of the baby ns he
sat in a corner of the seat ; but
he was so pretty that she could
hardly keep her oyos away from
him. He had wonderful large
blue eyes, and a laughing face,
and he kept bobbing up and
down, and making pretty little
sounds out of his rosebud mouth,
and once he smiled on her as
though he hadn't the least objec-
tion in the world to being better
acquainted. But Christie ilid not
dare to go near him. for he was
beatttifully dressed, and his mam-
ma looked as though she might
be very parti-
cular about his
friends. So the
little girl who
had left a baby
at home, looked
the other way
and trii'd to for-
get how much
she wantt'd to
kiss the baby
behind her.
The cars
were quite full,
but Christie
thought that
most of the peo-
ple looked as
though they
had been
obliged to get
up too early,
and had not
had a good
breakfast.
" They feel
cross," she said
to herself, "or
else they feel afraid. I wonder
if there is anything to be afraid
of."
Thinking which, she looked
over at Wells Burton, the boy
who went on the train every
morning to the city. He surely
ought to know by this time
whether there was any cause for
fear. He had his hands iu his
pockets, and was looking oat of
the window and whistling. He
did not look in the least afraid,
neither did he look cross.
What a thing it would be to
know him,
have him
about all
wonders
he saw in
and
tell
the
that
the
HARDLY OUT
city every day !
He had been
to the State
House, she had
beard, and
Kari said the
stag e-d river
said that the
Governor was
a great friend
of Mr. Burton,
and had been
out to see
him.
How much
Christie would
like to hear
something
about the tJov
eriior from one
who had
actually heard
him talk. She
knew quite a good denl concern-
in;; this Governor. Her father
admired him very much, and said
ho was one of the grandest tem-
perance men in the State. And
once when he went to the ciij' to
see about selling his corn, he had
a story to tell about having seen
the Governor standing in the door
of his home, and a fine-looking
man hor father said he was.
Christie had a burning desire
to see a real governor ; or, failing
|iu that — as of course she expect-
ed — to hear things about him :
BABYHOOD.
ALL 8WUNU TlIKll! ll.\TH A.M) (liKEHED.
how he acted, and what h" sniu,
and all those nice pleasant ihings
which she believed she could tell
about people if she ever had any
chances.
But she must not grumble on
this morning, of all others in her
life, she told herself, letting the
sober look go out of her face, and
bringing back the happy one.
Here were plenty of cliances
What a long story she could toll
Karl about these people on the
cars. And there was that baby
cooing and jumping, and — why,
yes, the darling was actually
throwing kissoK at her.
The train stopped again. It
was a voryaccommodaling train; it
si'cmeil tostop every fi'W minutes
to pick up piissengiTs along the
road when there was no station
in sight. Some junction was
yelled out, but tlie brakesman
talked in Choctaw, and of course
Christie did not uiulerstuiid him.
A gentleman caino in, glanced
up and down the well-filled car,
then dropped into the scat beside
Christie.
" I suppose you will let me sit
with you ?" he said, and his
voice was very plea.saiit, and his
face was bright with smiles.
She made hasto to say, " Yes, sir."
Thon he began to talk vi-ith hor,
or rather to hor. for Christie said
very little. He pointed out a log
cabin as they flew i>ast it, and
told her the queerest little history
about its being built there by a
boy less than sixteen years old,
for his mother. And how he
worked day and night, and earn-
ed money enough to send away
to Maine for her, and how he
supported her. And how they
lived in a nine pleasant house, and
had cows and horsi's, and the
mother made butter, and sold it
at the highest price in market,
and how she said " It can't help
but be good butter, I have such a
dear srood boy."
Christie listened and exclaimed
and enjoyed. What a thing to
tell lather and mother and Karl!
She lelt that she was piling up
stories to last all the rest of the
winter evenings.
She was very sorry when her
pleasant friend arose at the very
Jext station only a mile away,
and bade her good-niorniug as
politely as though she had been a
grown-up liidy. She wished so
much tliat she knew his name.
It would be awkward to be al-
ways calling him " thcgi'iitlcman
with bright eyes that looked right
through you. ' That seemed to
be the only way she could de-
scribe him.
She noticed that he stopped at
Wells Burton's seat and shook
hands with him. It was quite
likely that Wells knew who he
was."
"Now, if I only knew Wells
Burton," she told herself, " I
might ask him ; Imt then I don't,
and it isn't likelv that I ever
shall."
The pretty baby hud gone to
A
f.-iH®
II
REPRINTKI) STOKIKS, FROM TIIK "NORTHERN MESSKNGER.'
■leep ; she conid not amusn her-
■elf with him, and su she turned
to the window again jnst as they
were passing a country road
down which was flying a sleigh
filled with a merry party, who,
realizing that the train was beat-
ing them, all swung their hats
and cheered them on. That was
fnn for a little time, and then as
they whizzed along, she espied a
comical sight that entertained her
still more. But as the on-flying
train left all these interesting
scenes in the rear, Christie at last
thought of her father's advice, and
she began to see if she could
learn to make a car.
She twisted her head about,and
looked up and down and around
her in so many ways that at last
the sad-faced younsr man began
to watch her. She was studying
the long rope that ran through
the top of the oar, wondering
v/hat it was for, when he spoke
to her.
"That rope is to be pulled to
atop the train. If you should
chance to want it stopped for any
reason, all you would have to do
would be to give that a violent
pull ; but I earnestly hope you
won't do it, for it seems to me
that we stop quite often enough."
" I am sure I won't," Christie
■aid laughing a little, though
really she felt somewhat startled
over the bare idea of her stopping
a train.
Not ten minutes after that it
■topped again. What for ? Nobody
seemed to know. There was no
station, not even so much as a
■bed ; there was nobody to get on
or oiT; yet there that ridiculous
train stood, as though it had
reached the end of its journey
and did not care how soon the
passengers hopped out in the
snow. Then you should have
heard the people grumble. Chris-
tie was astonished ; she did not
know that grown people were
ever so cross. It made her laugh
to see the watches bob out, while
the faces which looked at them
seemed to grow crosser every
minute.
" What in the world are we
stopping here for?" asked the
pale-faced young man with such
anxiety in his face that Christie
felt very sorry for him. " What
is the matter, sir?" This ques-
tion he asked of a gentleman who
had been on the platform looking
about him.
"Don't know sir; can't find
out. If the ofricials know they
mean to keep it to themselves.
Still, 1 guess we are going on
soon , I saw signs of moving."
However, tliey did not move.
The next person who thought it j
WHS his duty to attend to matters,
was Wells Uurton. How he hap- 1
peuod to sit still so long, I'm sure
I don't know. He sauntered out '
and looked about him. Christie |
turned herself in her seat to get a^
view from the door. What a long
level stretch of road lay behind :
them! How queerly the track |
looked ! Two long black snakes
surrounded on every side by
snow. She wished she could get
a nearer view. She had been
charged not to step off the train,
and on no account to put her
head out of the window. But
what was to hinder her stepping
down to that closed door, and get-
ting a nearer view of the snakes?
She slipped quietly from her
seat and went It looked fully as
queer as she thought it would.
Wells Burton stood on the lower
step of the car, also gazing about
him ; not at the track, but at the
train-men, who seemed to be
trying to decide whether it was
worth while to go on. Suddenly
they concluded that they would.
The engine gave a snort to ex-
press its approval of the plan,
several passengers who had been
standing on the track jumped
back again on the car, and came
in to see about their seats. Then
ground and (he train was scud-
ding on. and nobody but she,
Christie Tucker, knew anything
about it. She had just once
thought in her mind — What if it
were Karl ? She gave one little
squeal, which the engine swal-
lowed, so that nobody heard, and
the next second she did what
made all the people in the car
think that the quiet-faced well-
behaved little girl had suddenly
gone erazy She gave a quick
little hop, very much as she had
done many a time to reach the
lowest boagh of the apple-tree,
and caught that rope whose use
she had just learned, and never
surely was harder pull given to it
than her stout little body man-
aged at that moment. In an in-
stant the car was full of excite-
ment. " What — what — what does
that mean ?" asked the fat man
who had been the last to enter the
train. The handsome old gentle-
8HE aPIGD A COMIOAL SIGHT.
the wheels began to turn around.
Still Wells Burton stood on that
lowest step with his hands in his
pockets. Christie looked at him,
and a little shiver ran through
her while she thought if that
were Karl she should curely be
tempted to reach out and pull at
his coat. How could the boy be
so foolish ? Why did not his
mother make him promise not to
do so ?
He was cominginnow;andit was
quite time, for the train was well
underway. How did it happen?
Nobody know. Wells Burton
least of all ; and Christie, who
stood looking on all the while
could never give a clear account
of that part of it. She only knew
that the boy she was watching
with such anxiety, turned care-
lessly on his heel, hands still in
his pockets, and the next instant
was lying a dreadful heap on the
mni) looked at her gravely
through his gold spectacles, and
the pale-faced man who had
taught her about the rope said
hastily : " Why, my child, you
ought not to have done that.
What in the world do you
want?"
All this happened, of course, in
a few seconds ; and before Chris-
tie could catch her frightened
breath to explain, in came the
conductor, looking like a summer
thunder cloud. " What does all
this mean ?" he asked grulfly.
" Who pulled that rope ?"
Christie took time to be glad
that the train was actually stop-
ping, before she explained in a
quick, frightened voice, " Oh, sir,
he fell off just as he was stepping
on the train again, and he lies in
the road. Do you think it killed
him ?"
" Who fell ? What are you
talking about ?" said the conduc-
tor, his quick eye roving over the
car in search of missing passen-
gers. " AVas it the boy who sat
in that seat?" But before Chris-
tie could think of stimmering out
a " Yes, sir," he had turned from
her and rushed out of the car, and
the train which had almost stop-
ped, began to move slowly
backward. I'm sure you can
imagine better than I cair tell you
how they all acted then. How
they crowded around that end
door, and all tried to see out from
a space that would accommodate
only two; and there was nothing
to see ! How they crowded
arottnd Christie, and asked ques-
tions! "How did it happei- ?"
Christie did not know; she was
still trembling over the thought
that it had happened. " What
was he out there for?" Christie
did not know. In her heart she
believed it was because he was a
very foolish boy ; bntthat she did
not like to say. " Was he hurt
much?" Christie did not know;
she wished very much that she
did. " Is he your brother, my
child ?' This the handsome-faced
old gentleman asked her.
"No sir," said Christie; she
knew so much, at least. Then
she told who he was. " Ah, in-
deed !" the gentleman said. " A
son of Warren H. Burton," he
supposed. He had heard of him.
Then there was a sudden bustle,
and a scurrying to get out of the
way,and a turning over of car seats
to make a bed; for they were bring-
ing the poor fellow in. Christie
was relieved to find, as they passed
her seat, that his eyes were wide
open, and that though he looked
very pale, he gazed about him
like one who was curious to see
what the people thought of all
this, and seemed just a little vex-
ed over their curiosity.
"Oh, no; he isn't badly hurt,"
the conductor said, as having fix-
ed the boy into a seat, and made
him as comfortable as . possible, he
came down the aisle on his way
out. " He has a sprained ankle
that will shut him up for a few
weeks, and a bruia.) or two;
nothing serious, I think. How
he escaped so easily is more than
I can imagine. I thought of course
he was killed. It is a bad habit,
this standing on the car steps; I
wonder his father doesn't forbid
it."
(To be conlinued.)
Animals show a deal of in-
stinct in caring for themselves and
for each other when ill. A dog
that has lost his appetite eats
grass known as dog's grass.
Sheep and cows seek out certain
herbs, and cats hunt for catnip.
An animid with rheumatism will
always keep in the sun as much
as possible. — CongregalvmaliU.
Without economy none can be
rich, and with it few can be poor.
— Dr. Johnson.
w
laid the condao- *
roving ovi>r the
missing piissen-
10 boy who sat
at before Chris-
stnmmering out
lind tnrned from
nt of the car, and
had almost stop-
more slowly
sure yon can
an I can tell yon
ted then. How
round that end
I to see out from
Id accommodate
ero was nothing
they crowded
and asked ques-
id it happei-?"
know; she was
ver the thought
Dpened. " What
for?" Christie
in her heart she
ecause he was a
but that she did
" Was he hurt
ie did not know ;
mnch that she
ur brother, ray
I handsome-faced
ked her.
id Christie; she
at least. Then
3 was. " Ah, in-
eman said. " A
H. Barton," he
lad heard of him.
a sudden bustle,
to get out of the
g over of car seats
they were bring-
ow in. Christie
id,a8 they passed
eyes were wide
kough he looked
ikzed about him
>8 curious to see
thought of all
just a little vex-
iosity.
in't badly hurt,"
id, as having fix-
seat, and made
as possible, he
sla on his way
sprained ankle
m up for a few
bruis.j or two;
I think. How
;ily is more than
thought of course
t is a bad habit,
the car steps; I
r doesn't forbid
intinued.)
\ a deal of in-
r thcmselvt'sand
hen ill. A dog
IS appetite eats
IS doit's grass,
seek out certain
hunt for catnip,
rheumatism will
the bUii as much
gregalinnaliil.
>my none can be
few can be poor.
w
REPRINTED STORIES. KRO.M THE
OHEISTIKS CHRISTMAS.
NOKTIIKRN ME.SSENGER."
-®H©
i
t
BT PANBT.
CHAPTER III.— C<mhnu»i.
"That is just what I wonder,"
thought Christie ; and she ven-
tured to glance in the direction
of the tnrned seat. Wells Bur-
ton was looking right at her.and —
why ! was it possible that he was
motioning to her ? Her cheeks
began to grow pink. What if she
should walk over there to him,
and he should stare at her
and say, " What do you want, little
girl ?" and it should turn
out that he had not
thought of such a thing
as motioning to her. If
anything of this kind
should liappen, Christie
felt that she must certain-
ly sink through the floor.
Bat he kept looking at
her, and she felt almost
sure that he was nodding
his head at her. Poor
Christie ! It had not be-
gun to take so much
courage to pull that bell
rope, as it did to think of
walking down the aisle
and stopping to see if
that boy possibly wanted
her. In fact, she had
palled the bell without
thinking about it at all ;
but this was difl'erent ;
and her cheeks began to
grow very hot, and she
wondered whether
mother would be ashamed
of her for going, or for
not going. What would
all the passengers think
of her for marching down
there to talk to a boy
whom she had told them
she never spoke to in her
life? "I won't go," she
told herself; " not a step.
Why should he be motion-
ing to me i Of course he
isn't."
And having settled this
to her satisfaction, what
did Christie do in the
course of the next two
minutes, but walk meekly
down that aisle, and stand
before the turned seats.
" I thought you motion-
ed to me," she said gent-
ly. " Is there anything I
can do to help you ?"
" I should say you had
done considerable in that
line already," he an-
swered heartily. "How
came you to think of any-
thing so sensible as stop-
ping the train ? Most any cirl I
know would have yelled like a
screech-owl, and danced up and
down a few times, and then
finished up by fainting dead away,
before anybody had found out
what was the matter. How came
yon to act so differently from the
usual style?"
" I didn't know that was the
way to do," Christie said, a little
glimmer of a laugh in her gray
eyes. " Are you much hart ? ' '
" Not to very. My ankle is
sprained, they sav, and I feel
somewhat as though I was a hun-
dred and fifty years old, and had
enjoyed the rheumatism for about
half a century. Sit down here
and let us talk about it." So
Christie sat down on the extreme
edge of the farther seal.
" I wish I could do something
to help the pain," she said. " If
your ankle is broken, it ought to
be set, and I almost think that
the man who sits in the seat right
before mine is a doclo.'."
"Well, I'll tell you what I
think . I think it was about as
plucky a thing to do as I ever
heard of in my life. Halloo, we
are stopping again ! This train
has got so usecl to stopping that
it can't go more than a mile with-
out trying it. Can this be the
junction? Just take a lookout,
will you, and report ?"
" There are four rows of tracks
instead of two," said Christie,
" and they go criss-cross."
"Then it is the switch!" Wells
exclaimed, and there was such a
ife u ^«l»€ jo -mar ri ^ of>,
^C'jiowi'np'
" The ankle will keep until we
get to the city. We are half-way
there by this time, though wo
seem to have plenty of hinderances
this morning. I say, how many
trains of cars have you stopped in
your life?"
" I never did such a thing be-
fore," Christie said, her eyes
dancing now, "and I had just
promised that I wouldn't stop this
one ; but you see there wasn't
anything else to do."
peculiar sound to hit voice, tha*
Christie turned from the window
to look at him.
"The switch!" she repeated,
" what does that mean ?"
" It means that the express
train passes ua here, and that just
about now she is rushing over
those rails where I lay a few min-
utes ago. Here she comes !"
Chapter IV.
A roar of machinery, • succes-
sion of diiszymg flashes past the
window, then sudden relief from
the deafening noise, and the ex-
press train had gone on its way.
Christie looked at Wells Bar-
ton. His face was very grave,
and she thought it a trifle paler
than before.
" Did you know that? he ask-
ed, nodding his head in the direc-
tion of the departed train.
" Did I know what ?''
" That the express train was al-
most due, and would come thun-
dering over me so soon?"
Christie shivered. "I
did not know anything
about the express train,"
she said.
" Well, you could not
have done any quicker
work if you had known.
It is queer I didn't think
of it. I thought of al-
most everything else
while I lay there ; it was
the queerest thing that
ever happened to me. I
can't think how it hap-
pened. I've stood on
that very step filty times
this winter, and never
thouirht of such a thing
as slipping. I suppose
there was ice on my
boots. Nice-looking boot,
isn't it?" he said, glanc-
ing down at it. "The
conductor made short
work of getting it otI,with
that sharp knife of his.
Look here, I don't know
why I keep talking about
boots and things, instead
of trying to thank you,
and show my gratitude in
some way. Boys don't
know how to do that sort
of thing, anyhow You
ought to see my mamma,
or, she ought to see you.
Mothers know how to
say what they feel."
" I don't want to be
thanked," said Christie,
her cheeks flushing, " I
didn't do anything."
" No, only saved my
life, and showed more
pluck and common sense
and quick wit than any
fourteen girls put to-
gether ever had before.
You see, if you had wast-
ed twenty-five seconds,
this train couldn't have
run back to pick me up,
without running into the
express ; and I should
just have had to lie there
and be crushed. I
couldn't move, any more than if
I had been dead ; in fact, \^
was dead when they picked
me up ; fainted, you know.
But before 1 fainted, I knew just
what had happened, and where I
was, and what was likely to hap-
pen next. I didn't think of this
express that has just rushed by,
but I thought of the up-train,due
in half an hour, and I knew there
wasn't a house nor a shed within
a mile. Did you ever come to a
i
^4®
m^-
m
li-
UKl'KINTKI) STORII'N. l-'ltOM THK •' \(H!TIIKI<N MKSSKNCKR. "
<&>
plaee where yen thought yon
conld ice protty plainly thnt \on
were not goin^r to live but a lew
minutes more?"
"Once I was very sick indeed,"
Chrislio said, "and the doctor
fave me up, and mother Ihoufi^ht
was dying; and they told mc
that I couldn't live but a few
minutes."
" And what did yon do ?"
The blood rolled in waves over
Christie's face and nock. It was
rather hard to talk to a strange
boy who mii^ht laugh at her,
about one ot the most
solemn experimces other
life. She was not used
to talking with boys, only
Karl, and hn never asked
such straiirht-out ques-
tions about thin^, and
waited for answers.
Somethin!» must bi> said;
and what should Ix) said
but the truth? Was she
ashamed of it ? Christie
wondered.
She dropped hor fray
eyes, and her Vdne was
low but clear as bhu said :
"I prayed."
There was no sound of
a laugh or a sneer in an-
swer. " Yon," he said,
nodding hia head ns
though ho understood,
"so did I. 1 wonder if
they all do when they get
into downright trouble?
I have heard that people
did ; had men, you know,
and ail sorts of people. It
seems sort of mean, nn'I —
well, I don't BuppoRo
girls use sueli words, but
what we boys would call
sneaking. Don't you
think so?"
But ChristiL-, in her
coniusion, did not under-
stand 111 in. Did he mean
that hoys would call it
"sneaking" to pray?
"What is?"
" Why, living alon!» all
your life without thinking
of such a thing as pray-
ing ; until just when you
get into trouble, and then
praying with all your
might, and getting helped
out, and going on Just the
same as you did before."
" Oh," said Christie, re-
lieved, " why, yes, I think
that would be mean ; but
then real honest people
don't do it."
"They don't? What
do they dothen? Weren't
■youlionest ?"
" Yes," said Christie gravely, "I
was, but I didn't go on just as 1
did before ; everything was just
as different as could be."
"What do you mean? What
was different?"
" Why, I myself. I didn't feel
the same, nor do the same. I
don't think I can explain what I
mean."
" Didn't you pray to get well ?"
" A little ; and 1 prayed to be
made ready to die if I was to die,
and to^not to be afraid, you
know."
"Well?"
" And pretty soon the feeling
afraid all went away, and 1 didn't
think it made much difference
whether I got well or not ; and
for days and days nobody thought
I would."
"But you did get well ?"
" Oh, yes, I did, of course, or
else I should not be here now."
And at this point Christie could
not help giving a little lauj^h.
so of coarse things were difl'ur-
ent."
"You got it!"
" Why, yes. All in a minute
everything seemed changed. I
(MUi't tell yon how; bnt then 1
know it was so."
" When was that?"
" That I was sick ? It was a
year ago last December, just a
little bit before Christmas,"
" And the difference lasts?"
" Oh, yes ; it lasts," said Chris-
tie, with a curious little smile.
" Every day when I'm working
wonld come along that lonesome
road on Christmas day in time to
save mo, mul I meant to be hon-
est; but I didn't think of such a
thing as it's lasting if I got out of
the scrape."
Chrislio looked puzzled.
" How could it last to take yon
to Heaven, if it wouldn't last any
when you were not to go to
Heaven yet ?" she asked.
And then Wells llurton laughed,
though the pain in his ankle im-
mediately made heavy wrinkles
come back into his face.
" It looks like playing ,i
very poor game, I'll
own," ho said ; "but 1
thought I meant it."
"But if you really did
mean it, you gave your-
self away to Ilim, and, if
you are honest, how can
you take yourself back ? "
To this ho made no an-
swer for sever.il iseconds,
and, indeed, wliat he said
next can hardly bo called
an answer :
" Then you are a Chris-
tian ! "
The red came back in
swift waves to i hrislie'.s
cheeks. She had been
so interested as to hardly
remember that the talk
was partly about herself;
but this plain question
which was also an ex-
claiiialion, brouifht back
her embarrassment.
" f think I am," she
sai<l ho.silatiimly.and then
asliamed of sucii witness-
ing, added boldly ; " Yes,
I know I am."
" And I know that 1
am not," he said, with a
littlo laugh.
(To he continued.)
kopi Iruttia —
i^e;; ego, o)> y*v
CKarlle eKclalTnsf"Now Meve'f a oof
i'Mcl Jeot- tittle iel/cfo^J^oJiloJil
WHY WE
CAT •
CALL THE
PUSS."
Wells did not laugh at all. He
looked grave and perplexed.
"That is just what I said," he
repeated. " You prayed to bo
gotten out of trouble, and you got
out, and then things went on as
before."
" But things didn't go on sis be-
fore," persisted Christie. "I asked
not to bo afraid to die ; to have a
heart given to me that could trust
Jesus anyhow, whether he wanted ; see any other
me to live or die. And I got it ; seem probable
it all comes back, yon know, in a
quick littlo think."
She began to think that this
was the strangest boy to talk she
had ever heard of He was even
stranger than some of the boys in
story books.
" Well, " he said, after .■\ few
moments of silence, " I prayed to
be made ready to die too ; for
when this train rattled off! didn't
way. It didn't
that anybody
Did you ever think why
we call the cat " puss?"
A great many years ago,
the people of Egypt wor-
shipped the cat. They
thought the cat was like
the moon, because she was
more active at night, and
because her eyes change,
just as the moon changes,
which is sometimes lull,
and sometimes only a
bright little crescent, or
half moon as wo say. Did
you ever notice pussy's
eyes, to see how they
change ? So these people made
an idol with a cat's head, and
named it Pasht, tho .same nam ;
they give to the moon ; lor the
word means the face of tho moon.
That word has been changed to
pas or puss, the name which al-
most every one gives to tho cat.
Puss and pussy cat are pet names
for kitty everywhere But few
know that it was given to
her thousands of years ago. —
Horper'i Young Pno/ile.
11
(p«^
H that lonosonin
s (liiy in tiiim to
i"aiU to l)i> hon-
think »l' Htioh it
ig if I gut out of
pn/.zlod.
last to take you
v'ouUlu'l last uny
not to go to
I! asked.
Burton lauirhod,
in his iinkli^ im-
hi-avy wrinkK's
is lace.
ksliku playiii<r a
)or gamo, I'll
! said ; " hut 1
; meant it."
if you really did
you Rave your-
f to Iliin, and, if
honost, how can
yourself back 7"
I he made no an-
several secon<l!i,
ed, wiiat he said
hardly be called
r :
you are a Chris-
'd came hack in
ives to I hristie's
She had been
ited as to hardly
ir tlint the talk
ly about herself ;
plain que.stiou
I'as also an ex-
1, brouLjht back
.rrassment.
ink 1 am," she
atini;ly,and then
of such wilness-
d boldly : " Yes,
am."
I know that 1
he said, with a
h.
le continued.)
E CALL THE
'PUSS."
LI ever think why
;he cat " puss?"
nnany years ago,
of Egypt wor-
the cat. They
the cat was like
because she was
ve at night, and
ler eyes change,
moon changes,
sometimes lull,
etimes only a
tie crescent, or
as we say. Did
notice pussy's
see how they
!So people made
cat's head, and
the .same namj
moon ; for the
"ace of the moon.
»oen changed to
name which al-
;ivHS to the cat.
at are pot names
hers But few
was given to
if years ago. —
V'o/)/e.
RKl'RINTED STOUIKS. FROM THK "NORTHERN MKSSKNCJKR."
■r?
m^
II n
OHBISTIE^ CHRISTMAS.
■T njm.
CHAPTER IT.-Conliniud.
After a few minutes of ailence,
during which Ohriatie was won-
dering whether the proper thing
to do now would be to go back
to her seat, he spoke again .
" Isn't it time we were intro-
duced? I know you very well
indeed. Ton are Christie Tucker,
aren't you ? And the boy whom
I meet at the depot almost every
morning, who will not look at me
nor give me a chance to speak to
him, is your brother Karl. I
asked the stage-driver all about
him. What is the use in his not
speaking to me ?"
"He is only ten," said Christie
in apology.
" And I am only fourteen, or
half-way between that and fifteen.
What difference does four or live
vears make? When I get to be
forty it won't hinder our being
good friends because he is only
thirty-five or so. There are not
so many people to be friendly
with up there where we live that
we can aiTord to waste any of
them. I looked over at your
class that day I stayed to Sunday-
school, and thought you were
having a nice time."
" We were," said Christie with
animation. " Mr. Keith is splen-
did."
Wells made a gesture of dis-
agreement.
"I don't like ministers as a
rule," he said; "they ulw.iv-
pitch into a fellow so."
" I don't know what that is,'
said Christie simply ; " but every
one likes Mr. Keith— that is, every
one but bad men ; of course they
don't like him because he mnke.s
them remember that they are bad.
and they want to forget it."
" Do yon suppose that is the
reason why I don't like him?"
Wells asked with a comical little
look. And then, his face growing
grave, ''I'll tell you a queer thing,
though. Back there, while I lay
across those rails and thought I
was done with things, I didn't
even think of mamma in the sense
that I wanted her there that
minute, the only one that 1
thought of was this Mr. Keith. I
wished for him, not to pull me off
of the track, you know, which
would have been ihc reasonable
thing to do if he had been there,
but to pray for me ; and I never
saw him but twice in my life. I'll
tell you what made me think of
that though. Do you remember
a^unday when they thought that
Olin boy was going to die ? \\'ell,
I was in church that Sunday, and
Mr. Keith prated for him ; and I
thought then if I were going to
die I should like to have Mr.
Keith pray for me. Aren't we go-
ing most uncommonly slow ? By
the way my foot twinges I should
say we had been about seventeen
hours BO far reaching the city, and
we most be twelve or fourteen
miles away yet I declare, if we
are not stopping again ! What
for, I'd like to know? There ic
no statiop. here."
What for, indeed ? That ques-
tion seemed to be on the faces of
all the passengers. Christie
looked out of the window , so did
everybody else except Wells Bur.
ton who could not lift himself up
to do so.
"Where is it?" he asked.
" It is nowhere," answered
Christie with a little laugh " We
seem to be just in the road. There
isn't a house to be seen, and there
is snow everywhere where there
isn't mud. No, I don't think
there is any station ; at least, I
don't see any depot."
" I know there isn't a station
nor a depot," said Wells confi-
dently, " unless it has been built
since last night."
"What's the matter, sir T' This
last to a man who had been out
to hear the news.
" Track washed away," said the
man using aa few words as pos-
J'm afraid I shall wish for a sur-
geon to cut off mj foot."
" Does it pain yon very much ?"
asked Christie, sympathetically.
" Well, I've had things that' felt
pleasanter. These heavy rains
an'l then the thaw have played
the mischief with the railway
track ; father said he was afraid
there would be trouble. But I
just wish they had waited until
after Christmas. I'm afraid yon
and I will be late to our Christmas
dinner."
" I'm sorry for that poor man,"
said Christie, twisting herself to
get a glimpse of the sad-faced
young man who had his watch in
his hand at this moment. " There
is a sick friend whom he thinks
he could help if he could only set
there in time; see how troubled
he looks."
"Poor fellow!" said Wells
sympathetically.
But the next moment Christie's
attention was turned elsewhere.
She turned herself completely
around and gazed up and .down
liOOKBD OVER
tible. and looking gloomy.
" Washed away ! Why, how
much of it?"
" More than I know ; some say
half a mile, and some say five
miles ; enough of it to keep us
standing here longer than we
want to, I guess."
" Where is ' here ?' Are we
near the station?"
" No, twc^miles out."
" And is it right here that the
track has washed away ?"
" No, half a mile or so up the
track ; they sent signals down to
us."
"Thank you sir," said Wells,
and the man moved on.
" Here's a go !" the boy said
gravely. " Or no, it isn't, it's a
standstill ; and that's slang, I sup-
pose. My mother hates slang,
and so does yours, I presume;
mothers all do ; I beg your pardon
for using it ; hut I do wonder
how long we are to be stopped
here ! If it is going to be long.
YOUR CLASS.
the car ; finally she stood np on
tiptoe for a moment.
"What's the trouble?" asked
Wells. " Lost something ?"
But by way of answer she
turned toward him, her face full
of anxiety, and asked : " Where
is that baby's mother?"
" What baby ? The lady with
a baby who got off at the last sta-
tion."
" Why, no, she didn't ; I see the
baby as plain as can be, lying on
the little bed she made for him;
he is fast asleep, but I don't see
her anywhere."
" I tell yon she got off,'.' said
Wells, growing earnest. " I hap-
pened to be looking right at her ;
I noticed her particularly because
she had a shawl like mamma's,
and I wondered if she looked like
mamma, and I stared at her a
good deal to find out. Oh, yes,
she stepped off the cars and
stepped into a mad puddle and
got her feet wet, and looked cross.
I raised myself up to see her do
it and hurt my foot by the means,
and then I looked cross."
"Then," said Christie, her face
full of anxiety, not to say terror,
" then she has left her baby !"
Unlikely as it sounds, this ap-
peared to be the case. In the
course ofa few minutes somebody
else began to be interested in the
same thought ; that was no other
person than the baby himself; he
began to rub his eyes, and yawn,
ana twist about on his narrow
bed in a very dangerous way. At
last he was only held on by the
cane of a gentleman who built a
fe'nce before baby by holding up
the cane, then he looked aoout
him in a savage manner, and
asked, "Where is this child's
mother?"
Where indeed ! That was just
what baby wanted to know, and
he began to give warning little
whimpers which said : "I'll cry
in away to astonish you, if some-
body doesn't come and attend to
me very soon."
What was to be done? Chris-
tie looked about her very much
startled, and discovered that there
I was but one lady in the car; she
was young and pretty, dressed
in velvet, and looked as though
she thought babies were a mistake
and a nuisance.
"Madam," said the man with
the cane.glowering at her, "do you
know anything about the child's
mother ?"
"How should I?" answered
the velvet-dressed lady, and she
immediately went back to her
" Seaside Library"' book.
Then the baby gave a warning
yell. Christie started up. " That
baby is afraid," she said to Wells.
"The next thing he will cry so
hard that nobody can stop him ;
I'm going over there."
"Do you know him ?" asked
Wells, looking at the baby as
though he would much rather
un'dertake to pacify a cross dog.
"Oh, no; I don't know who he
is at all ; but he begins to cry as
though he was afraid, and if it
was our baby at home, I don't
know what I should do."
With this rather mixed up sen-
tence she hurried away, and in
another moment was bending
over the baby who had not fully
decided whether to be angry or
grieved over the strange treat-
ment he was receiving. He had
his lips in a dreadful pucker, and
the squeal he was prepared to
give, would, I think, have aston-
ished all the people, but he
changed his mind when he saw
Christie, and gave her an aston-
ished stare, and made no objection
when she raised him with cooing
words, and cuddled his face to
hers.
"Is he your brother?" in-
quired the gentleman with the
cane. " You shouldn't leave him
alone in thafrway ; it is very care-
less ; he might have rolled off and
knocked his brains out. oa
" Oh, no, sir," said Christie, who S
^4®
r
19
10
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN
hj this time could not help tmiU the can," replied that gentleman
ing to think how man^ people
■he waa expected to claim aa re-
lativaa. "I don't know who he
ia, poor baby ! and I oaii't think
what haa become of hia mother "
Then ahe kiaaed him.
OHAPTKa V
That ia just what baby did not
know and in apite oT the kiis, he
made np hia mind to cry It waa
very diatreasing Christie walked
up and down in the bit of a space,
and cuddled the poor follow, and
whispered loving words to him,
and cooed a lullaby into his ear,
but he would have none oi them ;
he wanted just one thing, and
that was his mother's face
The gentlemen began to inter-
est themselves in the matter,
though the velvet-dressed young
lady waa still deep in her "Sea-
side Library," only lakinn time to
dart a frown at baby for Deingso
noisy. Une and another asked
who had been with the child, and
what bad become of her, and
Wella told his story about seeing
her leave the car at the laat
atalion.
" A case of desertion, said one
man, looking aeverely at Christie,
as though she might be the
cause ; but she looked back at him
out of very cross eyes, and •"as
glad that tliu did. The idea of
any mother deserting her baby '
Presently came the conductor,
and two or three people tried to
talk to him at once.
" I noticed the lady leave the
car," he said. " She asked me
how much time there would be ,
ahe has got herself left, I presume
women are always doing it , she
atayed to tie her bonnet in another
kind of a knot, or something
equally important, and she is pro-
bably fuming away at the station
at this moment, calling the cara
all sorts of names, as Ihongb th^y
were to blame for her silliness '
" And when can ahe get the
baby, sir?"
It was Christie's eager, aorrow-
ful voice that asked the question ;
ahe knew now which ahe pitied
the most, and that was baby'a
mother.
The conductor turned and
looked at her. " More than I
know," ha said ahortly. " Do you
belong to her? Are you the
child's nurse ?"
" Oh no, sir," said Christie, and
this time ahe had much ado to
keep from smiling outright. '* I
never saw him before ; ' but she
cuddled him to her as she spoke,
and he put one fat arm around
her neck, and gazed about him
''Well," said the conductor,
" hi- seems to take to you, and
that is fortunate; there's no toll-
ing when wo will get out of this ;
it is a bad mess "
Then up spoke Wells Burton.
' But conductor, the lady can get
back to her baby, uin't she, on
the nine o'clock accommodation?"
" When the nine o'clock accom-
modation comes along, I dure say
in a very aignifioant tone ; " but
there's no telling when that will
be."
" Why ? Oan't it come up be-
fore we leave here ? Will it have
to wait at the last atation until we
goon?"
Two gentlemen aaked these
two questions, and Christie wait-
ed eagerly for their anawer, while
baby, the most interested party,
gave all hia attention to the blue
ribbon on her hair, and tried to
poke it in hia mouth and mm it ;
ungrateful fellow that ho waa !
" If it doesn't have to wait any
there ian't any particular danger
of our being run over from either
direction, so far as I can see."
" And when can we hope to get
on?"
It was the pale-faced young
man, with his watch in his hand,
who asked this Question. Chris-
tie thought his faco grew paler
yet aa he listened to the answer,
"Well, sir, that 'a telling, per-
hapa in half an hour, perhaps not
under two hours . we don't really
know the extent of damage yet ;
' our men have gone forward to
I discover, and they will send
workmen from the city aa soon
longer than until we go on, it may aa they can ; but everything ia
be thankful," said the conductor, out of gear this morning ; there
" The rumor is that the bridge haa been trouble iu all directions,
CHILD OF A KING,
"Lrt ikt ckiUrtm ^ Zt0m fc>j/a/ tm UUir kimg."—T%. 144 1 •,
HA-mi t, ButLL. an. Ri*. John R. Suhmaium.
^*E3
^^^^^^m
cu.
1 Mt TathBrt own Son, who mitoo m from un.
On w wandered on urth M tbo pooraat of men i
But now Ho !• reigning forerer on high.
And wlU giro ma a homa with Himaell hy^naBJ.
S I onoo waa an ontcaat atraneer on earth,
A ainner bj choico. an " alian" by birth ;
But Ito been " adopted," mj name'a wnttaB flow*.
An heir to a manaion, a robo and a oiowa. 0»».
4 A tent or a eottage. why ahould I 0M«1
Thoy're building a palace for me over than;
Though exiled from homo, yet my heart atlll may aingi
All gPory to Qod, I'm tha ahUd of • King. Oha.
ami^M, iMi. *T "W^ a "••
• Fim Qua OUB lioaawa, by poralaaloa tt Bmlaw * Ham.*
went down just after we crossed
it; if that is so, we don't know
when another train will get
over."
Then you should have heard
the exclamations of dismay.
" Wiiat ! the h'^h bri<lge ! Went
down, did you say ? Why, it isn't
twenty minutes since we passed
over ! I thought you moved over
very slowly — as if things were
shaky."
" Can't you get a telegram, con-
ductor, and learn the truth of the
report ?"
"Not very well, air, while we
lie here. If we ever reach
another station, we shall have a
telegram, I presume; meantime
and the railway hands can't be
everywhere at once ; there's no
telling what the dele^ will be ; ol
course we hope we can hurry
things np."
(7b be contiHusd.)
I
MONKEY POCKETS,
suppose you did not know
that monkeys had any pockets,
save those in the little green coats
organ-men compel them to wear.
But that is a mistake ; their real
pockets are in their cheeks. The
other evening, coming back from
the sea by train, I travelled in the
next compartment to a little be-
coated monkey and his master.
«H
MESSENGER."
"The little creature's day's work
waa over, and, perched up on tha
■ill of the carriage window, he
produced his supper from those
■tow-away pockets of his, and
commenced to munch it with
great enjoyment. Several times
the platform hnd to be cleared of
the girla and boya who had come
to aee the little frit>nd, who had
beenamuaing them all day, off on
his journey. At length a porter,
whose heart evidently was warm
toward little folks, allowed them
to slip in and remain.
All the otEcials felt the attrac-
tion of that window , and the
stoker.with smiles upon his grimy
lace, openly addressed the little
monkoy as "mate." Even the
slation-mastei as he paased, I
noticed, cast a sly glance toward
the monkey, although he could
not, of course, be seen to join tha
crowd of admirers. A cheer was
raised when the train was sot in
motion, and the monkey glided
slowly away from big and little
spectators.
I heard the other day of a pet
monkey called Hag, a creature no
larger than a guinea-pig whoae
master once found in bis cheek
pockets a stool thimble, his own
gold ring, a pair of sloevo-links, a
farthing, a button, » shilling and
a bit of candy Monkeys, 1 am
sorry to say, are given to stealing,
and they use these pockets to
hide the articles which they have
stolen. — Harper's Young People.
SOLDIER AND THISTLE.
Little Minnie, in her eagerness
after flowers, had wounded her
hand on the sharp prickly thistle.
This made her cry with pain at
first, and pout with vexation
afterwards.
" I do wish there was no such
thing as a thistle in the world,"
she said pettishly.
"And yet the Scottish nation
think so much of it they engrave
it on the national arms," said her
mother
"It is the last flower that I
should pick out," said Minnio.
" I am sure they might have
found a great many nicer ones,
even among the weeds."
" But the thistle did them snch
good service once," said her
mother, " they learned to esteem
it very highly. One time the
Danes invaded Scotland, and they
prepared to make a night attack
on a sleeping garrison. So they
crept along barefooted, as still as
possible, until they were almost
on the spot. Just at that moment
a barefooted soldier stepped on a
great thistle, and the hurt made
him utter a sharp, shrill cry of
pain. The sound awoke the
sleepers, and each man sprang to
his arms. They fought with
great bravery and the invaders
were driven back with much loss."
" Well, I never suspected that
so small a thing could save a na-
tion," said Minnie, thoughtfully
—Selected.
If
S!
i
^H»
•»
tlura's day'a work W W
perched up on tha
n»g« window, he
upper from those
:kcts of hii, and
I munch it with
it. Several timea
d to be cleared of
9ys who had come
i friend, who had
hem all day, off on
,t lenfjth a porter,
idently wan warm
>lks, allowed them
emaiii.
aU felt the attrac-
rindow , and the
los upon hi* grimj
Idressod the little
nato." Even the
as he paosed, I
sly glance toward
Ithough he could
be seen to join the
rers. A cheer was
10 train was sot in
he monkey glided
from big and little
other day of a pet
Hag, a creature no
guinea-pig whose
>und in his cheek
I thimble, his own
ir of sleove-links, a
tton, II shilling and
Monkeys, 1 am
given to stealing,
these pockets to
» which they have
r's Young People.
\ND THISTLE.
e, in her eagerness
had wounded her
arp prickly thistle,
cry with pain at
It with vexation
there was no such
tlo in the world,"
e Scottish nation
of it they engrave
fial arms," said her
ast flower that I
out," said Minnie,
thoy might have
many nicer ones,
e weeds."
stle did them snch
once," said her
learned to esteem
One time the
Scotland, and thev
ike a night attack
rarrison. So they
refooted, as still as
they were almost
ust at that moment
>ldier stepped on a
nd the hurt made
arp, shrill cry of
:)nnd awoke the
kch man sprang to
hey fought with
and the invaders
:k with much loss."
ret suspected that
could save a na-
inie, thonghtfnlly
V. n
RKl'RINTKD STORIKS, FROM THK "NORTHERN ME.SSKNOER
OHBISTIE'S CHRISTMAS.
ar TANiiT.
CHAPTKH V.-Conlinuid.
Dear! di>nr! what a state of
things Diiiht'artoning as it all
was, ilhristio could lint hp|p b<>-
ing astonished to soo how cross
the pi'ople were.
" Thoy set exactly ss though
thoy thonorht the ronds and the
hridf;)<8 had dono it on purpose
just to vex them," she told Wells
ns Hho obeyed the motion of his
hand nnd hrnusht thn baliy to the
turned seat in front of him. "Do
you suppose they really know of
somebody who is to blame !"
" Why, no," said Wells thought-
fully, "I presume not; they just
fret and say 'it is a pretty busi-
ness!' and all that sort of thing,
because that is the natural way to
act when folks are disappointed.
Isn't that the way you do when
things don't go to suit you ? '
Christie's heod drooped a little
and the pretty pink flush began
to come on her cheek. "Oncol
used to do it to thinirs," she said
sluwly, with a marked emphasis
on the word " things." " I would
slam the door when I was cross
PKVVY, AND
THAT.
Wells said good-natun dly, but
the tone said that ho wi\8 very
much interested, and should really
like to understand Greek if he
could, "What possible harm
could thero be in slamming a
ahoutBomething,ttndI wouldscold'door,or growling at a fire, so long
the kitchen fire for not burning,
and I would put the wood down
on the hearth with a great bang ;
as nobody heard ^'ou? I should
say it was a saiu and comfortable
way of working ofT ill-humor ;
but onco I lost a penny under the , I m sure I wish some of the pep-
pery folks I know would try that
fashion. What made you think
there was anything bad about
it?"
" I didn't find it out myself,"
Christie said, her eyes drooping
again. " You see I got into
trouble. I wanted some things
that I couldn't have, and I wanted
to do some things that I couldn't
do, and I thought about them un-
til they made me feel cross half
the time. I slammed all the
doors I could, and thu fire needed
scolding every time I went near
it, and 1" — here there was a little
hesitation and the cheeks grew
carpet and I scolded about that
but that was when I was alone.
The minute Mrs. Briggs came in
to see mother, or even the mar-
ket man stopped to see if wo
wanted anything, I would shut
the door gently, and lay the wood
on the hearth just as soltly as I
could, and I worked half an hour
once helping Susan Briggs open
her desk, and never thought of
being cross, because 1 was
ashamed, you know, to havo them
see me do any other way. Now
shouldn't you think these people
would feel kind of ashamed to
grumble before one another?"
But the only answer that Wells
seemed to havo ready for this was
an absent-minded laugh ; ho was
thinking of one part of Christie's
sentence that he wanted to have
explained.
" Look here," he said, " you
say you used to be cross at things.
Do you mean that you've given
even that up?"
Christie gravely bowed her
head. " I'm most cured of it,"
she said soltly. " I think it is
only once in a long while now
that I forget. I was so in the
habit ol it that it was dreadfully
hard work. You seo this was
after I had beguti to try to do
right ; and I thought if I kept
pleasant before people, thero
wouldn't bo anything wrong in
slamming doors a little — when
nobody was there to see — and in
scolding the fire because it
couldn't hove its feelings hurt,
you know ; but when I found
out that it was almost worse to do
that than to be cross to people I
tried hard to give it up."
"Tou are talking Greek to me,''
pinker — " I even got to scolding
at the baby when she was most
■he
A ■imploton. Nevortheleaa
meant to tell just tho truth.
" Yus, I did," she said steadily.
' One day ho came to see us, and
mother wasn't at home. The
baby at Hriggs had burnt himself
and they sent for mother, and
father had ifono to the mill, and
there wasn't anybody at home,
only just baby and me, and I had
been real cross to her; I shook
her a little speck, not to hurt, you
know, but then it was horrid ; I
felt so ashain< d of myself that I
cried ; and justthtMi fho minister
came. Ho asked me right away
what was the matter, and that
mado me cry again, and then, you
know, I almost hod to tell him.
It was something ho said that has
helped mo ever since."
" Do you mind telling mo what
it was?" Wells Bnrton's voice was
so gentle, that she gave up the
fancy that he was making fun of
her.
" Why, it was something that I
knew all the time, and I've often
asleep and 'couldn't hear me; real wondered that I did not think ol
hateful things I said to her, about!'"'"'" mvse"- • '"'J hira that I
being the hardest baby to get to had no trouble in being pleasant
sleep that ever was born and about | before people^ becauso I would be
taking all my time so that I
couldn't study, nor knit, nor any-
thing. I never would have said
it to her if she had been awake,
and I used to kiss her as soon as
I had tucked her in the crib, but
for all that, I grumbled at her a
great deal. At last it got so bad
that I knew I was getting to be
cross all the time, and I couldn't
seem to stop it ; and one day
told the minister about it."
"You did!" Wells Burtons
exclamation had a good deal of
admiration in it ; the truth was, he
began to think that Christie must
be a very brave girl. He told him-
self that ho would rather stop
twenty trains of cars than to go
to the minister and have a talk
about his faults ! But Christie
believed he thought she was
I HSLPED SUSAN BRIOOS OPEN HER DESK.
«IH^
so ashamed to havo them see mo
looking cross. And that I kept
my words pretty near right, but I
couldn't manago my thoughts.
And he asked mo how I thought
I should act if .Tesus should come
to our house, as ho used to, at
Mary and Martha's. I told him
that I knew then I should aet
just as well as I could ; then he
asked me if I did not remember
that .Tesus had come to our house,
and was staying thero all the
time, and heard all my thoughts,
as well as my words? You don't
know how it mado me feel for a
moment; I just felt scared. It
seemed to mo that I could re-
member all the times that I had
banged tho door, and rattled the
wood, and Jesus looking at me !
What made mo most ashamed,
was, that I had tried to behave
myself before Mrs. Briggs, and
tho other neighbors, and never
minded how I behaved before
Jesus. Just as though I thought
more of them than I did of
him !"
" Humph I" said Wells. " I
don't pretend to understand. I
don't see how that helped yon a
bit. Of course if a fellow could
realize that Jesus was listening to
what he said, it would make a big
difference all tho time. There are
fiity thousand things a fellow says
and does that he wouldn't do for
the would ! But the trouble is
you can't realize it. A person
that you can see and hear is very
dili'erent from one that you can't
see and hear ; now that's the truth,
and I don't seu how anybody can
say it isn't. Do you mean to have
me understand that you are as
sure of Jesus being near you as
you are that I sit on this seat talk-
ing to you?"
" I'm'' just as sure of it," Chris-
tie said with a quiet positiveness
that went a great way toward
n
RKPItlNTED STORIES, FROM THK "NORTHERN M1*>44KN(}RR."
proTinf the trnth of her word*; any to me do yon think? I might
but iken it ia » difieroiit fMlinir, take him for • walk np and dttwa
of ronra*. I can't eipiain it to
you; I don't know how. I anp-
poae if you were to talk with onr
miniater he would make it all
plain. But [ know thia : the more
5 on pray, the aurer you get that
eana alaya right b«aide you, and
liaicnatoallyoa *ay. I'm a good
deal aiirorof it than I naed to be,
and it keepa growing aurer all the
time."
Meantime.yon are wonderins
what that baby waa about, and
why heendur)>d ao long a con*
Teraation that he did not under-
atand. The truth ia, that in tell*
ing yon about the converHstion,
I nave left out the number of-
timea that Chriatie lilted him
from one ahoulder to the other,
and the aweet cooing wordaahe
continually put in, between her
anawera, and the number ot
times Wella snapped bis lingers
for Kaby's benefit, and how he
took his watch from its chain,
and gave it to ChriKt.io to hold,
8o that the baby could aeu it
but at laat baby's palienoe waa
entirely gone. Ho wonid have
nothing more to do with the
watch, and he pushed Christie's
hand away '..vagely, when she
tried to pal his cheek. He had
occasionally given aome very'
loud yells, aa specimens of what
ht> could do, and now he went
at it in earut'st.
In vain Christie tossed, and
cooed, and patted. He yelled
the louder. The lady with the
" Seaside" story was very much
annoyed. She shot angry
glances over at the perplexed
little maid, and at last she said,
" I should think if you cannot
keep that child quiet, it would
be well for you to let him
alone."
" Perhaps the lady will take
him for a while.your arms must
be very tired."
This was Wells' suggestion,
and he enjoyed the look of dis-
gust on her face, as she said : " I
know nothing about babies ;
bat 1 think it is an imposition
on the travelling public to have
one screaming in this fashion."
"Then," said Wells, "would
you in this case recommend chok-
ing, or what would you advise us
to do?"
" You are a very impudent
boy ! " the lady said, and she went
back to her book, with red
cheeks.
Christie could not help laugh-
ing a little, though she was not
sure but the lady was correct.
And the baby yelled! Not
another ladv among the passen-
gers. The last one had left the
car at that unfortunate station
where the poor mother stopped.
"The pale-faced young man came
forward neit; he did not look
cross, only sorry. " Poor fellow !"
he said to the baby, " yon think
yon are having a hard timie, I sup-
pose, but there are worse trials in
Ul'e than yours. What would he
the car and rest your arma."
But the perrerae baby yelled
like a lunatio the moment the
thing waa attempted, and utterly
refused to leave his small proteo*
tor's aide,
Then the nice old gentleman
decided to show his akill. " What
would he aay to a augar-plum, do
Tou suppose? ' he asked, bending
kindly overChristio, aiidahowing
a round, white candy.
" He'll be aure to approve of
that," Wells said, but Chriatie
He shows good taste," said hesitated, and a lovely color
the pale young man with a wan glowed on her cheeks. " If you
smile; ** he probably sees that I please sir," she anid timidly, "I
know very little about babiea." don't know whether his mother
=1
THR PRODIQAL SON.
Whoae name endotiM thii iweat stoTy,
And sukranteM thin picture true t
Ah, louk, it is th« Lord' of Olor j.
Who spwiu thau woidi to jrou.
We liaten, end are loat in wander,
li man su vile, is Qod lo kind t
We look again, and written under,
>Tii"JeeU8Chriat," we and.
Mo ain aecsped Hia aearchina TUon,
Uia eyei men'a inuuoat tboughta eonld
aoan,
Uie langoage nerer lacked preoiiion —
" Ue knew what waa in man."
He came to ihow Hia Father'a feeling.
And breathe it o'er the earth abroai
Qod'i lore by word and sign revaalifig—
He knew wliat waa in Ood.
Ah, Lord, we make a tn» confeaion ;
Aa in a glaaa aaraelTea we view ;
In every action and expieaioa
The prodigal ia traik
But trom thia piotoM may w* gather
An imaue aure of God above t
la he that fond forgiving Father,
And ia hia heart all iove I
Tea, though ooi feet lo far have wan-
dered
In baae delight* and miry waya,
And though Hii auluunce we have
aquandered
And wasted our beat days ;
Until by Ood and man forsaken.
Our pleasures gone, our wishes cioat,
By sudden angauh overtaken,
We feel that aUU loat;
TUen in that hour of darkaet aonow
The Spirit calls us from ahr.
And from the thought of Ood we borrow
A brightness like a star.
And we arise, and lo ! He meets us
With loving look and hutening feet ;
We fall Itafore Him, but he greets ua
With lienediction sweet.
He feels. He shows, a Father's yearning.
He lavishes a Father'a lov«.
And celebrates a son's tetanung
'Mid angel hosts above.
O Father, send us Thr good Spirit,
Since Jeeua deigned loi ns to die,
Draw us, and fit us to iabarit
Thy glorious Home on High 1
RicaaBD WiLTOH, H.A.
would like it ; they don't let some
babies have candy at all ; mother
thinka it bad for them. "
■' Ah * yea," he said, " I ought
to know it by thia time; I'm al-
ways getting into distj^raoo with
my daughters by bringing the
stuff to their babiea; they don't
allow it at all, and yon are a wise
little woman to think ot it."
(7b be eoHlinueJ.)
' m
A SPIDER'S WEB.
The Kpider'a thread is made
npoi iiinumerabla small threads
or fibres, one ot these threads
being estimated to be one two-
millionth of a hair in thickness.
Three kinds of thread are
spun : One of great strength for
the radiating or spoke lines of
the web. The cross lines, or
what a sailor might call the rat-
lines, are finer and are tena-
cious,, that is, thoy have upon
them little specks or globules of
a very sticky gum. These
specks are put on with even in-
terspaces. They are set quite
thickly along the line, and are
what, in the first instance, cntch
and hold the legs or wings ot
the fly. Once caught in this
fashion the prcy is held secure
by threads flung over it some-
what in the manner of a lasso.
The third kind oi silk is that
which the spider throws out in
a mass or tiood, by which it
suddenly envelops any i)rey of
which it is afraid, as, fur ex-
ample, a wasp, A scientiiic ex-
perimenter once drew out from
the body of a single spider 3,-
480 yards of thread or spider
silk — a length a little short of
three miles. Silk may be
woven of spiders' thread, and it
is more glossy and brilliant than
that of the silk worm, being of
a golden color. An enthusiastic
entomologist secured enough of
it for the weaving of a suit ot
clothes for Louis XIV. — Prof.
Wood.
A Little Uirl who has
noticed the absence of seeds in
bananas, wishes to know how
the fruit is grown. From cut-
tings or shoots which first send
up two leaves rolled tightly to-
gether until the green roll is two
or three ieet high, when the
blades unfold. At the end of the
nine months a purple bud ap-
pears in the centre, followed by
yellow blossoms which mature to
fruit, growing in bunches of seve-
ral hundred. The plant dies
down as soon as the fruit is
formed, but the rootstock soon be-
gins to send up new leaves again.
Bananas are found in all tropical
countries ; a piece of ground of a
size to grow enough wheat to
feed one man will, il planted with
bananas, raise fruit enough lor
twenty-five. — Ex.
If You cast away one cross
you will doubtless imd another,
and perhaps a heaviei one.—
Thomas li Kempit.
^t*
y don't lat MUie
y at all ; mother
for them. "
aaiil, " I ought
ii* titnu; I'm •!•
diai^raoo wilh
Y briiii^ing th«
>iea; (huy don't
i yoa are a wiie
link ol it."
n/i'mmi/.)
R'8 WEB.
thrf ad is mad«
hluamall threads
>i th»ae throada
1 to bu one two-
lair in thicltnesB.
of thread are
reat strength for
r spoke linea of
croaa lines, or
ight call the rat-
and are tena-
they have npou
ks or globules of
gnm. Tliese
on with even in-
y are set quite
he line, and are
it instance, catch
egs or wings of
caught in this
y is held secure
ig over it Bomo-
inner of a Iasho.
I ot silk is that
or throws out in
d, by which it
ops any prey of
raid, as, I'ur ex-
A scientiiicex-
drew out from
single spider 3,-
tread or spider
a little short of
Silk may bu
rs' thread, and it
nd brilliant than
worm, being of
An enthusiastic
cured enough of
iug of a suit of
lis XIV.— Pro/.
iiRi. who has
ence of seeds in
to know how
n. From cut-
hich first send
lied tightly to-
reen roll is two
gh, when the
t the end of the
urplo bud ap-
re, followed by
hich mature to
mnches of seve-
he plant dies
9 the fruit is
tstock soon be-
w leaves again.
1 in all tropical
ot ground of a
mgh wheat to
it planted with
lit enough tor
way one cross
IS iiud another,
heaviei oue. —
REPRINTED ST0RIE8. FROM TIIK "NOKTIIKKN MKSSKNOKR."
CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS.
ST rmiT.
OBAPTKR VI.
Von have no idea what a life
that baby led them, unless you
have a little brother or sister at
home, I suppose yon have but
little idea how a baby nan cry,
who is very tired, and hungry,
and a good deal frightened ; for by
this time he began to think it the
strangest thing in life that his
mother did not come and attend
to him. Christie took a hint from
the pale young man, and began
to walk up and down the car,
with baby in her arms ; but he
was much heavier than the baby
at home, and it took very little of
this exercise to make her young
back ache. Wells looked on
sympathetically, as well as a little
indignantly, fjnablo to take a
step, or even to twist himself
about, so that he could take the
baby in bis arms, he told himself
that if ho were that young man
he would see if ho could not carry
that baby a while, and not let o
little girl tug with it all the time.
Suppose ho did yell, what of it ?
That was no more than ho was
doing now.every time he thought
of it. Ho should like to see him-
self scared away by the crying of
a baby ! As for the literary young
lady, words could not express his
contempt for her ; he showed it by
curling his lip most expressively
whenever ho looked in her direc-
tion. But she, having onco more
buried herself in her Dook, lost all
this.
" I know what the poor little
fellow wants," said Christie, re-
turning to Wells, during a lull.
"He is so hungry that he can't
help crying. Ho keeps stuffing
both his little hands into his
mouth ; they are always hungry
when they do that. His mother
had some milk in a bottle for him,
in that little satchel she carried in
her hand. I saw her otfer him
some once, but he wasn't hungry
just then, and pushed it away. I
just wish she had left the bag
when she went away ; but she
carried it on her arm."
' Probably it had her pocket-
book in it as well as a bottle of
milk," Wells said ; and then : " I'm
sorry for the poor little chap, if
he is hungry ; we all stand n fair
chance to be in the same fix if we
stay here long "
" I have cookies, and thiuffs,"
said Christie thoughtfully ; " l>ut
they won't do for babies, you
know "
" I don't know a thing about
it," declared Wells. "But I
should think that folks would
rather have them eat cookies than
starve."
There was no denying this, so
Christie only laughed; but aa yet
she did not resort to cookies. She
thought of the rows of milk pans
ranged on the shelves at home ; if
she only had one of theai ! She
thought ot the milk can that had
started from home with them ;
what a pity that itaalopping-place I shoulder and take a nice little
had been one station bark. Away I nap 1 Then perhaps the train
over in the fields, no other house I wonld go on in a few minules,and
near H, stood what looked like a bit I maybe the bridge isn't down at
ofafarmhnuse. ('hrislin wondered all; nnd innybe the nine o'clork
whether they ha<l milk there, and train will come in all right, and
whether somebody couldn't go bring your mamma, and she will
(here and try to get some. Shu have a bottle l\ill of nice milk for
mentioned the wonder to Wells.
" It's a forlorn little place," he
said, trying to raisu himself on
one elbow to see it, frowning
deeply with pain as he did so.
•' I don't believe they have any
milk there that is fit to drink.
Besides, how could a body get (o
it? They would get up to their
ears in mud. 1 hose fields look
as though they ha«l no bottom to
them. My ! how quick I would
skip over there it I had tho use of
my feet!"
Christie could not help smiling
again, at tho apparent contradic-
tions in his words ; but she kept
looking out at the little house, be-
tween her soothings of the baby.
"I most believe I will try it,"
see said at lost. " Something has
got to be done ; this babjc is al-
most starved ; I suppose that ho
was so busy gazing about him this morn
ing, that he could not eat his breakfast."
" You ! ' said Wells, regarding her
with surprise, mingled with respect.
" Why, yon would stick fast in the mud.
I don't believe your mother would
like such doings at
all."
Christie looked down
at her shoes ; she so
seldom had a new pair
that these were treas-
ures; alittle nicer they
were.than any sheever
had before; she remem-
bered, too, her
mother's oft-ropeatcd
charge, on no account
to step ofi* the train
until they reached the
city ; yet she said re-
solutely : "My mother
always likes me to do
things that ought to
be done. I think I
am going to try it. I
don't see another per-
son who would be
likely to go."
" Suppose you try the young
lady in the velvet gown?" said
Wells ; " she has almost finished
her story."
Then he and Christie both
laughed. Her face sobered at
once, and she began to take
anxious looks through the cars
The old gentleman was not to be
thought of for a moment ; his hair
was too white to think of his tak-
ing a tramp like that. There was
the pai^faced maii,but she looked
regretfully at his ahining boots
and beautiful pantaloons. The
mud would certainly ruin them ;
and what a plight he would be in
when they reached the city ! She
almost thought he would go, if
she were to ask him, but it did
seem too bad to do so
'* O baby, baby !" she said in a
soft cooing tone, "couldn't you
possibly lay your head on my
you
But tho baby was utterly dis-
gusted with this suggestion. He
put no faith in any ol it ; he
angrily bobbed up nis head as
often as Christie tried to ruddle
it in her neck. Ho snatched at
her hair, and tried to pull the
very braids out by the roots ; ho
scratched at her face, and in vari-
ous other ways conducted himself
like a tiger Wells, meanwhile,
seeing ChriRlio glance toward the
house ill tho fields, with a resolu-
tion of some sort growing on her
face, made asui^goMtion :
"Thero is ono thing you want
to think of, whoever tramps oil'
there, runs tho risk of having thiN
train skip off and leavo them. I
dare say wo may go in a littli;
while; trains are hardly ever de-
tained aa lung as they think they
TH« LITTLE UOLY-LOOKINU HOUSE.
are going to be. Once, when we
were east, there was something
the matter with the track, and the
conductor didn't think we could
go on under three hours, and
father let my sister Estelle and I
go and take a walk; and in just
half an hour that train went on,
and Estelle and I had no end of a
time getting with our folks
again !' concluded Wells, very
wisely.
This story, like many other
things in this world, had an
exactly opposite effect from what
was intended.
" I shall go myself," said Chris-
tie positively. To herself she
said : " I shall never ask that
poor young man to go and run
the risk of missing the train,when
he is in such a hurry ; and the
rest of these people look as
though they wouldn't do it for
iq
anything, and a« though I wonld
rather go three times than to itsk
them,"
" What will you do if the train
takes a notion to go on?" said
Welln, dismayed for her,
"Why."sHid Christie, "Ifthia
train can go on, another can come,
or go, some time, you know ; and
I could wait for it and take it.
Would they take my ticket on
another train ? " Tho startled
tone in which she asked this
question, made Wells understand
tnat her ticket was a matter of
importance to her. He set her
mind at rest about th.it, and then
cnme to the front with a new
idea :
"Have yon a return ticket?
When were you coming back,
anyhow / "
"To-night;" said Christie
laughing in spite of all the troubles
of tho way. " Do you suppose I
Hliall get there in lime to come
hack ? What did you say about
u return ticket ? Ought I to
havo one ?"
" Whv, that is tho way they
generally do," this old traveller
explained; "buy a round trip
ticket, you know, it saves ton or
fifteen cents; but it is of no conse-
qnenoe, yon can just as well buy
ono at the city station if you ever
get thero."
Christie looked down at her
ticket with a perplexed and
sorrowful nir ; it Wiis not round
certainly. If it nu!,'ht to havo
been, and if anything that she
could hn^^e done about it would
have saved her lilteen cents, sho
was very sorry, lor money was of
great consequence to her. " 1 did
not know about it," she said
meekly ; and felt that sho did not
yet know, and that, by and by,
when things were qnieter, she
would ask Wells why it was that
round tickets were cheaper, and
why they did not give her one.
Meantime the poor discouraged
baby had settled into a restless
slumber ; Christie had been
watching his eyes clo8e,while she
walked slowly back and forth in
tho cor. She did not believe ho
would sleep long, he was too
hungry for that. And now her
resolution was formed. " I'm go-
ing over there to try to get some
milk," sho said firmly "If some-
body would make a nice little
pillow of my shawl, I could lay
the poor baby down. Do yon
suppose the old gentleman with
the gold glasses would see that
he did not roll off the seat ?"
"Why do you pick him out?"
asked Wells, amused over the
whole tWng, and much disgusted
that he could not help " Give
me the shawl; I can roll it up. I
haven't sprained my hands, at
least. Now lay the young scamp
down, and go and cive tho old
gentleman our compliments, and
say that ho is appointed special
guard, with orders not to fall
asleep at his post, under pain of
being scratched."
Christie's eyes were brim full of
n
«Hi
A
R8PRINTKI) KTOKIRH. FROM THK "NOKTHKRN MK8SKNQKR."
oould do to drag thorn trom ono
bo( to the other ; for the rood
■oemod to ba made ap oi • raocen*
•ion of boge. Once the oeme to •
little pool of muddy water ; came
to it before ihu mw it ; apiuhed
right in, and aoaked her feet
awar above the aiiklei, and apat-
iered the prntty dr«M. Doar !
dear! If mother conid aeo her
now ! What a t>iin|( it waa to go
offon a Chriat' •'*» ride !
It waa a lont^ walk, much longer
than it had auemod Irom tho car
window. With every atup the
diffinnlty of getting on increaaed,
and once ahn had really to lean
againat a friendly poat that aeemed
aet up to mark the lot, and try to
dig the mud from her ahoea How
■urely they wore ruined ; and they
were to have been her Sunday
beat for a year I
foB, but aba want orar to tho old
MBtlaman, with a gravely gentJ*
faoe.and made known her petition
" Eh, what t" he aaid, coming
back from aomo day-dream with a
aigh. Oh, yea, certainly he would
keep the poor little follow from
rolling otr. " But if ho criea," he
aaid anxionaly, " I ahall not know
what to do; 1 never could do
anything with babiea when they
cried."
Chriitie could only hope that
thia one would not cry ; and hav-
ing catabliahed tho guard where
ahe wanted him, ahe prepared to
aet otf.
By thia time Wella had another
idea. He had been fumbling in
hia pocket, and now drew out his
handsome Rusaia leather pocket-
book.
" Just let me furniah the fnnda
for the youngater, wont yon ?
aiuce I can't help in any other
way "
" Will I need money ? " Chriatie
aaked, stopping with a startled
air, to lock into hia face. Her
mother lived in a little houae back
in the tielda, but she would never
think of taking money in return
for a little milk to be given to a
hungry baby.
" Why, of course," said Wella.
" That is, if yon get any milk,
which I doubt ; the house doesn't
look like it from here, liut yon
will have to buy a pitcher, or
something to put it in ; they won't
trust you, they'll think you are a
tramp, you know. Offer to pay
them well, and the Utile chap
will fare a good deal better than
he will if you ask a favor."
As he spoke he held out a crisp
bank note Christie took it slow-
ly, with a bright glow on her
cheeks. It was a five dollar hill.
She had never had so much money
in her hands before ; and to tell
the truth, she did not quite like
to have this in her hands. She
had to remind herself that the
milk was not for her, and that she
certainly had not money enough
of her own to pay for it, and get
hack home with Just then —
wise little woman that she waa —
came into play some of the good
sense which her guod mother had
tried so hard to teach her. She
handed back the crisp new note.
"U-ive roe something smaller,
please," she said pleasantly,"!
don't like to carry so much, nor
to offer it; they would think I
was a very suspicions tramp !
Milk is only ten cents a quart, |
and a pitcher or a tin pail does
not cost much."
It was Wells' turn to blush
now ; he plainly saw that she had falling as they rushed into her
been the more business-like of the j eyes. But she shut them back re-
two, aud crumpling the bill in , solutely and said aloud " I know
his hand, he produced some shin- j I am doinir right That baby will
iug silver pieces in its place, aud get sick if he don't have his miik ;
Christie wont. j and a baby is worth raore than
Oh, but that mud was deep ! , ten pairs of shooh and a new dress
How quickly were the trim new besides "
shoes oesmeared all over with a Now she waa fairly at the gate
thick yellow plaster? Worse than j of the little ugly-looking houae.
that, they were getting too heavy In a minute more ahe would be
to carry ; it waa aa much as she | inside.
M
Mo, ak* wouldn't Bow, wow !
wow I Hare wu a fallow who
diapatud tho way with har, and
came aiiddnnly bowing at hor, a*
if the least that he should think
of doing waa to awallow har at
once.
Now it hifl>pened that Ohriatie,
unusually brave about moat
thinga, was droadAiHy afraid of a
dog,
She gave a pitiful little ahriak,
and tho next thing ahe know, she
waa picking herself out of the
meanest-looking mud hole ahe
had seen in her trip. The dog
had retired to a safe distance, and
with hia head hung down, aud
his silly little tail between his
legs, waa receiving a lecture from
a woman with a froway head.and
sleeves rolled up ai the elbow,
who appeared in tbo door of the
FORCED OPEN
QROWINO TREE.
There was another sad thought little house. '
connected with all this : What a of yourself *
plight she would be in by the
time she reached uncle Daniel's.
And mother had taken such pride
in having her so neatly dressed,
with a new-fashioned jacket and
all ! What with the mud, and the
weariness, and the anxiety, she
could hardly ktop the tears from
Aren't you ashamed
she said, shaking
hor head ; " a decent dog you are
to be cutting up such tricks !
Come along, child what do you
want ? There'a no kind of need
of yonr being afraid of that there
dog; there ain't a bigger coward
in all Kansas than he is. Mercy
on me! What a fix yon are in !
I guess your ma, whoever ahe is,
will give you something to make
yon remember Bose. You've jnat
ruined your dress. Where did
you come from, anyway ?"
(To be continued.)
A Life grandly holy is only the
adding together of minutes scrn-
pnlonsly holy.
THB MIGHT OK THU
Clous SEED.
Near Mary atreet, in llanorer,
which ia becoming a flourishing
mercantile centre of Northern
Uerm;»iiv,is the old Qarden grave-
yard. Once in the oulikirti, now
the ruah of tralHo and rattle of
street cars disturb the quiet of
the old oometery. For many a
vear ita rusty galea have never
been swung bacK to receive any
new tenants. Tho gravea are
overshadowed by large treea ind
overgrown by weeds, and ne-
gleet marks the spot everywhere.
Quite near the entrance, in the
shadow of tho old church, lie the
remains of a lady who belonged
to tho old nobility and who waa
buried here during the middle of
tho last century. Her grave ia
covered by two maaaive blocks of
sandatono on which lies another
double their aine. The latter ia
ornamented in relief by an ex-
tinguished torch, the ayir 1 of
death.
The immense blocks are .list-
ened together by heavy iron-
clamps, showing the intention of
the owner not to have the place
diaturbed This is atill more em-
phatically pronounced by the in-
scription which ia hewn in large
lettera opposite to the name of the
occupant and tho date of her
death. On one of the lower
atonea, " This grave, bought for
all time, must never be opened."
But what is man's will in a uni-
verse ruled by an Almighty
Creator ? Where the two stones
are joined together, a passing
wind, not long after the monu-
ment waa erected, carried a tiny
seed. No one observed it but
the eye of God.
But there it took, and aa sum-
mer showers and winter storms
followed the course of the sea-
sons it grew, ita roota finding
nourishment in the soil beneath,
till now an immense birch-tree
spreads out its silvery and grace-
ful branchea over the moaa-
covered stones, and the sparrows
build their nests iu it. But in
getting its present growth and
expansion its great roots have
gone clear through the grave,
and the dust of the dead baa
nourished them, while its mas-
sive trunk has lifted the ponder-
ous stones out of their places,
turning them on edge and rend-
ing the iron clamps that held them
together. And there the leafy
branches, high in the air, nod to
the sculptured legend below, as
if in quiet mockery of the man's
vain command, "This grave,
<>ought for all time, must never
be opened." It is the triumph of
life over death. — Selected.
A Great Step ia gaiued when
a child has learned that there is
no necessary connection between
liking a thing and doing it. —
Guetnesat Truth.
God's Almanac has but one
day , that is to-day.
«H»
A
^
OK TllK PHK
9 HEBi),
treni, in lUnorer,
ttiitf • llourivhlng
tru of Northern
oldQardvnfrravv
Iho ouUkirli, now
iflo tml ratllu ot
urb the quint of
rjr. For manf a
laiea haru novnr
K to fKceivo any
The graves aro
y large troea ind
weetla, and ne-
•pot ovorywhore.
entrance, in the
d church, lie the
y who belonged
ty and who waa
ng the middle of
Her grave ia
maaaive blocka of
hich Ilea another
n. The latter ia
relief by an ex-
, the ayip 1 of
blocka are >aat-
by heavy iron-
the intention of
> hare the place
ia atill more em-
inced by the in>
ia hewn in large
) the name of the
lie date of her
> of the lower
ive, bought for
iver be opened."
»'b will in a nni-
an Almighty
9 the two stonea
her, a paaaing
ifter the monn-
carriod a tiny
ibserved it but
ik, and oa anm*
winter storma
rae of the aea-
roota finding
>e aoil beneath,
enao birch-tree
ery and grace-
'er the moaa-
id the sparrows
in it. But in
t growth and
lat roots have
rh the grave,
the dead has
while its mas-
ed theponder-
their places,
dge and rend-
that held them
lere the leafy
the air, nod to
end below, as
ot the man's
This grave,
must never
he triumph of
lected.
gained when
that there is
!tion between
doing it. —
1
f
y OHBISTIB'8 0HBISTUA8.
' BT rA«if.
OUAPTKR VI.-UmlMMd.
Poor Christie, her face in a
deeper glow than had boen on it
during thia eventful morning,
limping a little in one foot, and
wondering whether this was
another aprain, made her way
aoroas the stretch of mud that atill
lay between her and the honae,
and began her atnry.
The open door gave her a view
of quite a good-aised kitchen in
which all aorta of houaehold work
aeemed to bn going on at once. A
amell of cabbage came from the
big pot on the atove ; a amoU of
Singurbread came from the open
oor of the oven, where
a young woman knelt to
examine it, a pan of ap-
plea partly pared aat on
the table, and quite cloao
to them tied into a chair,
aata yellow-headed baby,
in a pink calicodreaa, and
wearing a pug noae,
waihod-out blue eyea,
and a soiled face.
He looked utterly un-
like the baby in the cars,
and did not once sugg>>st
the baby at home. Yet
Christie was glad to see
him. Probably thoy had
milk, and they would
have tender hearts for
other babies.
"If you please,'' she
began in a iientle explana-
tory tone, tlie woman still
standing in the door,
holding it partly open,
"I came from the cars
over here: the train is
stopped by some trouble,
and there is a poor baby
whoso mother ' ' — here
she gave a little squeal
and sprang past the
woman in the door, quite
into the kitchen.
"For the land's sake! I
believe she's craay !"
Thus much the woman
said, before she saw what
was the matter; and
really by the time she
saw there was nothing
the matter the danger
was over. It was just
one of those things that
happen in a second, or
else they do not happen
at all. There was a girl
about the size of Christie whose
business it evidently was to at-
tend to the restless, tied-up baby,
and who had been so occupied in
staring at Christie that she hi>.d
entirely forgotten her duty.
Baby thus left to employ his wits,
discovered that by a sudden
tilting motion hecould tiphischair
backwards, and give himself a
ride
REPRINTKD NT()R|»X KKOM TllK •NOUTIIKKN MI<:SHKN(JKR."
was exactly behind it' In reality
the baby's head did not touch the
stove at all, tMteauae he held it up
and yelled. At leaat that waa
one reaaon ; the other waa that in
leaa than aquarturof aaeoundthe
chair waa righted by Chriatie
heraelf; for juat one apring
brought her from the door to the
chair. But, dear m*'! you ahonld
have aeen the excitement which
prevailed in Iho lilllu log houae
then. That baby was just as
important as any other buby in
the world. His mother untied
with nervous fingers the string
that bound him, and hunted, and
kissed, and crii^d over him, and
praised Christie, and scolded
sobs came deeply drawn, as aha
vaniahod by the woo.Ubed door.
I'hratia felt aorry for her, and
indignant with her mother.
There waa a very great tlilFerenue
in mothera, certainly, ureater than
ahe had ever aupposea.
The indignation gave her cour-
age to tell lier atory rapidly and
well. There were a great many
exolamaliohH over it, a great many
queilioiiN aNki-d and answered,
and Chriatiu had to kiaa the baby
could u d'led when ahe reached
llie train, and concluded to be
meek; eap«ciaMy sinrn they did
not know her stall. Mow could
they be sure ,'. \tshe did not
want to run away with Josiah's
boots f
On her arm ahn hiul a pail nf milk
which looked rich and <!ri'aiiiy,and
ahe had bought a lillle liny cup
V hich the wnmnii aaid they got
for Jimmy only yenlerduy. For
the cup ahe paid eight roiils, and
which ahe would nothave minded pur t lie pail twentyfivi-, hut Iboy
at all if hia face had been clean.
8ho had a chance to wash the
mud from her face and handa, and
the woman herself carefully
bruahed mud from Iho pretty suit.
BATUBDAY'S WonK FOK SUNDAY'S DINNER.
(Outline Druwiiiff Lesson.)
Sarah Ann, all in one breath.
"Just to think !" shosaid. " If
you hadn't a-seen him just that
minute and sprung like a deer, he
might a-been burnei to a crisp !
Mother's precious darling Jimmy !
Sarah Ann, you good-for-nothing
young one you, don't stand there
whimpering; if you had been
attending to your business instead
wouldn't
of staring, this wouldn't have
happened. Go out into the wood-
Moreover, [fancy, ho argued shed, do; you make mo sick."
that this process might in time! This advice was accompanied
loosen the chains that bound him by a box on the ear; not a hard
to the chair ; so he tried it. Just slap, in fact, I doubt whether
as Christie looked that way he had Sarah Ann felt it at all ; but that
tried it for the fourth time with she felt the tongue, and was pain-
such effect that the chair lost its fully ashamed, was evident: her
balance, and the glowing store face Damed a deep red, and her
bewailing the stains, and finding
one place with a zigzag tear. It
all took time, and Christie was
conscious of libtening painfully
for the whistle of the departing
train. But at last she was started
un her way ; her shoes exchanged
for a pair of ugly-looking boots,
which the woman told ner she
miffht leave in the bog by the
railway track, and she had the
comfort of hearing it said in a loud
whisper, that they were so awful
worn out and good for nothing,
that Josiah wouldn't care much
if she did make off with them.
After that Christie had a mind not
to take them, but she lookeddown
at the shoes hung over hat arm
which had been cleaned, and
would lake nothiiig for the milk,
and there waa a good (|uart,
Chriatie calculntfil.
On the whole, her trip buck to
the train whs mui'h pletinanter
thiin the jc)uriii>y out had
been. 8he discovered
that day why boyi wore
boolit, a thinif tlnil ahe
had never uiulurslnod be-
fore. They certainly
made their way tbrougn
the mud much better
than shoes.
There stood the train,
without apparently hav-
ing had u thought of
going. I way to leave her.
She set down her pail,
and carefully oulleil off
the boots and laid them
in a Nort of gully ai the
side of the track, then
slipped into her own wet
ones, and climbed ir.to
the train. None too soon,
for bi'by was shrieking
wildly. The old
gentleman looked reliev-
ed when he saw her.
" Well, little woman,''
he said, "our hopes all
rest on you. If you can
quiet thibslorm, we shall
owe you a debt of
gratitude."
" We've been having a
first-class circus here,"
said Wells, "ever since
you went. You hudn't
jumped the first mud
puddle wh(;n he opened
his eyes and looked
around him and begaii.
That Seaside Library
woman over there is
going to have him sent
to the house of correction
as soon as ever we reach
the city. I see it in her
eyes."
"Poor fellow !" said Christie ;
but she did not mean the old
gentleman in spectacles, nor yet
Wells Burton.
CHAPTER VII.
Do yon imagine that the train
soon started ? Nothing seemed
farther from its thoughts.
The baby eagerly drank his
milk from the bright tin cup,
much occupied, it is true, as soon
as his first hunger was appeased,
with gazing at the queer shapes
in its sides, bntneverrecognizing,
apparently, his own beautiful
face ; but after each gaze, he
would seize the cup and take
another long draught.
£
^H9
A^
f^i
is-
le
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THK " NORTH F.RN MKSSENGER."
" I tell you he was hungry and snre I don't know. The next
thirsty both, I shonld think!'
Wells said, watching him with
interest; "his mother onght to
give you a great many thanks for
this."
"Poor mother !" said Christie
with a sigh, and she drew the
baby closer, He settled back in
her arms at last, satisfied and
smiling. "Tamed," Wells called
it, and he and the old gentleman
who had returned to his own seat
exchanged smiles ol admiration, as'
Christie "mothered" the baby,
cooing him presently into quiet,
restful slumber.
The shawl did duty again as a
pillow, and this time,
genuine sleeping was done.
Longp.ist nine o'clock now,
and no train either came or
went. The officials seemed
all to have departed, and
someof the passengers. The
old gentleman kept his seat,
so did the pale-iaced man, so
did the disgusted young lady
who had iinished her book,
and had now no other
occupation to indn.lge in but
grumbling.
" How far are we from the
city'?" Christie questioned.
" Why, not more than a
dozen miles."
" I should think some of
the men who are in a hurry
would try to hire a waggon to
take them in."
Wells shook his head. " I
shoull like to see a waggon
that could get through this
mud !" he explained. " You
see there is no waggon road ;
the old roadstrikos otf atthat
junction down below, and
winds around, I don't know
how many miles. I don't
suppose it would be possible
to drive direot from here to
the city, and (he regular road
is used so little out this way
now, that it must be horrid
after these rains."
" Well, shouldn't you think
that man over there, who is
so anxious, would try to
walk ! 1 think 1 could walk
twelve miles if mother or the
baby was sick."
" Not in this mud, I
venture. I doubt if you ever
took many long walks in such
mud. Why, in some places
it is knee deep ! Besides,
don't you see he would stand
a chance of seeing this train
whisk by him when he was
aljout half way. No ; his best
plan is to sit still and be patient."
'' He doesn't look patient," said
Christie. " I never saw any-
body's face look less patient than
his ; and I am so sorry for him I
don't know what to do. I keep
thinking I wish I could do some-
thing to help him. I wonder if
it is his mother who is sick."
Wells studied him for a few
minutes, and then gave it as his
opinion that it was .he lady
whom he meant to »»<arry:
though why he thoughi so, I am
thing that claimed attention was
the sprained ankle.
I'll tell yoix what it is," said
Wells, " there's something going
on down there in my foot that I
don't like. It gives the most
horrid little tweaks of pain every
few minutes that you ever heard
of, and it is swelling so that I
don't believe 1 shall ever be able
to wear .-^ boot again."
It ought to be bathed," said
Christie, " and bandaged ; that is
what mother did when father
sprained his foot once. She took
cold water and bathed and bathed
it, oh, a long time ! then she made
thought we should have, of
course I Now I thought I should
always be where I could get a
basin or a bowl to put water in.
" If the baby had drank all the
milk I could use the pail. But I
dare not throw it away, because
he might need it before nis uother
gets to hyn."
"I should think not !" said
AVells, meaning about the milk.
' It cost too much to throw
away."
"Yes;" said Christie gravely.
■' But then they did not charge
me any more than other people
charge for a quart of milk."
Wells' eyes danced over this ;
«H9
SWALLOWS AND NKST.
a great long bandage, and hound
it up, and it got well after awhile,
I think I ousjht to bathe your foot."
" You !" said Wells in dismay,
and looking more astonished than
he had at anything yet. " As i f I
should allow you to do such a
thiim- !"
" Why not ! 1 should think
you would be very foolish not to
let me. I know how; I've done
it for father, by the hour. You
see it soothes the pain, and makes
the swelling go down. But I
don't know what I could put
water in. How queer it is that
we can get to places where we
miss all the little thnigs that wo
ho had not meant the cost in
money ; but he said nothing.
Meantime Christie looked up
and dowu the car, her face
thoughtful and anxious. She was
studying ways for bathing the
sick foot. Wells was secretly
gbid that there seemed no chance
for it. He would have liked his
mother to do it, but he could not
bear to think of having his foot
bathed by this trim little girl.
( Tu be continued.)
Hatred stirreth up strifes ; but
love coverethall sins. — Proverbs x.
ANECDOTES OF SWALLOWS
The Rev. Gilbert White, of
Selborne, records the choosing of
two odd situations for swallows'
nests — one of them on the handles
of a pair of shears which were
placed against the wall of an out
house Mr. Jesse, too, ;n his
" Q-leanmgs in Natural History,"
mentions one which he saw built
on the knocker of the hall-door of
the rectory-house of the Rev.
Egerton Bagot, at Pipe Hapes,
Warwickshire. He further ob-
serves: — "The confidence which
these birds place in the human
race is not a little extraordinary.
They not only jiut themselves,
but their offspring, in the
power of man. I have seen
their nests in situations
where they were in reach of
one's hand, nnd where they
might have been destroyed in
an instant. I have observed
them under a doorway ; the
eaves of a low cottage ;
against the wall of a tool-
shed ; on the knocker of a
door, and the rafter of a
much frequented hay-loft."
BishopStanley mentions one
which was built in a bracket
for holding a lampinacorner
of an open passage, close to
the kitchen-door, in a noble-
man's house in Scotland ; and
though the lamp was taken
down to be trimmed every
day and lighted every even-
ing, there a swallow — and it
is believed the same swallow
— built her nest for three or
four years, quite regardless of
the removal or light of the
lamp, and the constant pass-
ing and repassing of the
servants. His lordship adds
that on the opposite side of the
same open court the great
house-bell was hung, under a
wooden cover fastened to the
north wall of the hoi.?.!. It
was a large bell, ai d wns
rung several times a day to
call the servants to their
meals. Under the wooden
cover of this bell the same
swallow, it is believed, which
had formerly built on the
bracket of the lamp, built a
nest for several years, and
never seemed in the least
disturbed l)y the ringing of
the bell or the rattling of the
rope. A ligufe is given of
the nest, in the form of a
cornucopia — both ends alhxed to
the roof of the cin-er. — From
Murrii's " Ilinlori/ of British Birds."
To FORiiEAR is to refrain from
doing or saying something wh;eli
impulse had prompted us to do or
say ; it is the conquest of wiser
second thought over first desires ;
it is the curbing of anger or in-
dignation, the stern oelf-diBcipline
that represses the hasty judg-
ment, the unkind criticicm, the
uncharitable interpretation, Ihn
cutting reply.
w
hfl
m^-
^C4®
OF SWALLOWS
ailbert White, of
'ds the choosing of
ions for swallows'
lom oil thti handles
hears which were
the wall ot an oat
[esse, too, in his
Natural History,"
which he saw built
f of the hall-door of
)U8e of the Rev.
t, at Pipe Rapes,
He further ob-
contidence which
ace in the human
ttle extraordinary.
y put themselves,
oti'spring, in the
man. I have seen
ts in situations
y were in reach of
d, nnd where they
e been destroyed in
I have observed
er a doorway ; the
a low cottage ;
e wall of a tool-
the knocker of a
d the rafter of a
quented hay-loft."
tanley mentions one
s built in a bracket
g a lampiiiacorner
II passage, close to
n-door, in a noble-
ise in Scotland ; and
te lamp was taken
be trimmed every
ghted every even-
a swallow — and it
[ the same swallow
r nest for three or
, quite regardless of
al or light of the
the constant pass-
repassing of the
His lordship adds
opposite side of the
n court the great
was hung, under a
)ver fastened to the
of the hoi.?.?. It
ge bell, a! d wns
al times a day to
servants to their
nder the wooden
his bell the same
is believed, which
rly built on the
the lamp, built a
overal yoars, and
ined in the least
by the ringing of
lie rattling of the
gate is given of
the form ol a
th ends allixed to
he cm'er. — From
rij of British Birds. "
is to refrain from
something wh:ch
mpted us to do or
onquest of wiser
over first desires ;
g of anger or in-
tern ■"elf-discipline
the hasty judg-
nd ctiticicm, the
iterpretation, Ihn
n II
«m
n
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NOliTllKRN MESSENGER."
CHRISTIES CHRISTMAS.
Bt I'ANSY.
CHAPTEU VI-Coii/iniKii.
" Oh, thank you !" said Christie.
' I will bo very careful of it."
And jho tripped away with a
relieved face.
Suddenly Christie hopped up, The old gentleman was watch-
her face bright, and yet doubt- ing. When the milk was care-
ful, if you can imagine the two fully poured into the china
on the same face. She saw away pitcher, what did he do but offer
to do it, if only the "Seaside to take care of it !
Librury" woman would be good
and help. It was very un-
pleasant ' o have to ask a lavor of
her, but Christie was not one to
stop at unpleasant things, when order to keep
they looked as though they ought
to hi done.
The lady's satchel layopen at.
Very grateful wns Christie, for
while she poured, she had
wondered what she should do
ankle washy this time very unwill-
ing to be touched — and the bath-
ing began. At first Wells' face had
a flush on it that was not all
caused by pain. It was such a
queer thing to have a little girl,
and she a stranger to him, bathing
his foot. But the cold water felt
so pleasant, and the touch of the
small hand was to gentle and
skilful, that gradunlly a feeling of
relief and satislaction began to
# bei
satislaction
with the frail china thing, in | steal over him.
it from bumping j " I did not kuuw there was so
against the car. To be sure there j much good in water,'" he eniil,
was no motion now, but there j watching her as she ^teadily
] was always the hope that the cars passed her coo! cloth up and down
her side on the seat. ' She was | would start, [the foot,
fumbling discontentedly
through it, looking for some-
thing that she did not seem
to find. But the thing that
Christie saw, wns a small
white pitcher, lying snugly
among the napkins, empty,
and waiting, apparently, lor
work to do.
She went over to her in
haste. It would not do to
take much time to think
about this thing which wa'j
so disagreeable.
" Would you bo so kind as
to lend me the pitcher fo' u
little while to keep baby'i
milk in ? I want to fill the
pail with water lo bathe the
lame foot. It is beginning to
swell very much, and I think
that v/ill help it. Mother
thought it helped father."
A long speech for Christie.
The lady looked so very
disagreeable that the chilu
felt a nervous desire to keep
on talking, and not give her
a chiince to make a dis-
agreeable answer. But she
came to the end of her long
sentence at last, and waited.
Wells was laughing. He
was almost willing to have
his ankle bathed, if it would
in any way add to the 'is-
comfort of the lady.
For what seatned to poor
Christie several long
minutes, she stared at her as
though she were some un-
pleasant curiosity that had
not been seen before, then
said ; " I suppose so. What
a set 1 have got among !
The insolent boy doesn't
deserve to have his anklo
bathed ! If he had been sit-
ting in the cars as he ought
the accident would not have hap'
poned. Why can't you throw
that slop of milk away, if you
want the pail >."
Christie meekly explained her
fears the baby might fancy him-
self hungry when he awoke ; and
at fast, with a disgusted sigh, the
lady took the doliciU china
pitcher from iti nest and p'>.ssed
it into Christie's koepic^.
"Hei-'j," she said, "Yen will
brcik it, I presume, the next
thing ; and it belongs to a set. I
was a simpleton to bring it, but
how was I >-■: 'now there would
be such a nuieanca of a time ?"
THE GREAT ANT-EATER.
Next the pail must be washed.
For the first time in her life,
Christie made her way to the
water cooler, which stood in a
corner of the car, and managed to
learn how to make the water
flow. Washing the pail was an
easy matter. It was a relief to
come to something that she knew
Just how to do, and had often
done before.
She was soon at her work, a
nc-\t handkerchief doing duty as a
bathing cloth. The sock was
caTefulIy, tenderly drawn from
the poor swollen loot — not with-
out help from Wells' knife, for the
Water Is real w -"uderful," said
Christie. " Mother says that half
the people in the world don't
know what a splendid doctor it
is. Sometimes she us- s it real
hot, and it will stop a pain in a
few minutes. Hot water would
be good for your foot if we could
get some. I wish we could, for I
am most sure that it would make
this swelling go down faster."
" Wo might split some pieces
ofT the side of the car, and
start a fire. I could whittle fome
ofT, maybe, or the old gentleman '
would. No, he can't leave his
pitcher of milk. But the young
man hasn't anything to do; we
might try him. 1 have some
n.>atches in my pocket."
By this time he had to stop
and laugh over the bewildered
j look on the little nurse's face.
I "I beg your pardon,' he said,
] seeing the flushed cheeks. " I'm
afraid it sounds like making fun
of you, nnd that is the last thing
i I am thinking of, I can tell \ou.
, I wa.s only thinking thi t you had
i done so many things to-day that
sesmed impossible, perhaps you
would manage a fire, to heat
water. You can't think how
I iiiee the cold water feels. I
I hate to have you down there
muscling over me. You are
getting drops of water over
your pretty dress, I'm afraid
among u? we shall manage
to spoil all your clothes.
But my foot feels fifty per-
cent better. I can tell you
somebody who will be very
much obliged to you for this
morning's work, and that's
my mamma."
r^aid Christie, " Isn't it
nice that the baby sleeps all
this while ? If he should
waken before I get your foot
bandi:ged, 1 don't know
what I should do !"
The distressed tone of
inotheily anxiety in which
she said ttiis, set Weils off
into another laugh. He
thouubt her the strangest
little girl he had ever seen in
his hie. The truth was, that
he was not acquainted with
any liltl.' girls who knew
how to do things which are
supposed to belong to
women. But Christie had
been her mother's oldest
daughter, and her only
helper in the home foi so
many years, that she had
learned many things, and
had a tashionof planning be-
forehand, very much as her
mother did.
" Bandaged !" repeated
Wells when his lauirh was
over. " Why what will you
bandage it with I I should
say that was about as hard to
m;inage as a lire."
"Oh, no ! I didn't know
what you meant about mak-
ing a lire. I'm sure there is
fire enough in th« stove ; if
I could make a place on the
stove to set this pail I could
nave hot water ; but I really can't
do that. ,\. bandage, though, from
somewhere we must have. You
see the foot must be banaged now
that it has been v,-et ; mother
thinks they swell more after wet-
ting, unless they are bound up
pretty I rht. I have one other
handkerchief, but it is small ;
still it would make a beginning,
and I suppose you have one, and
the old gentleman maybe has two,
men often have ; I think wu can
get enough to make quite a nice
■andaire."
■' Are vou really going through
the car to take up a collection of
C»4e
18
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
handkerchiefs for my benefit !"
Wells was so amused thitt he
could hardly speak the words,
bnt Christie looked x)0'''*)(^t'y
sober,
"Why HOt?' she said. "Any-
body who had one would give it
for such a thing, yon know. And
it is really necessary. Mother
was very particular about it when
father had a sprain."
" 'Well ! I suppose you will
do it. I think you would do
anything that it happened to
come into your head ought to be
done ; but I beg you to ask each
of the contributors for their ad-
drebses, for I shall want to ex-
press a few handkerchiefs to them,
if this train ever does reach the
city."
In due course of time Christie
did just that thing. She went
timidly over to the old gentle-
man and told him her plan. She
did not like to do it, but it seemed
the next thing to be done, and as
■he walked along, she remember-
ed that she had not liked to do
one oi the things that had come
to her since she stopped the
train ; yet they had all turned out
well, so far. Even the china
pitcher was doing its duty as
nicely as though its owner had
been willing to lend it.
The old gentleman was delight-
ful. Ho shook out two of the
largest and finest cambric hand-
kerchiefs that Christie had ever
seen. It did seem a pity to tear
them, bnt he gave them up as
though it was a pleasure to him to
think of their being torn in bits.
The young man was equally
ready, and more able, for he open-
ed his case, and produced three
or four, which Christie saw with
joy, for she need not go to the
owner of the pitcher.
" How are yon going to fasten
the pieces ?" he asked as he
spread out the handkerchiefs and
prepared to help tear them. " Pins
will scratch, and besides wili not
make a smooth bandage. Take
care, you are getting that one too
wide ; bandages are nuisances
unless they fit nicely. What shall
we do about the sewing? I sup-
pose you haven't a workbox with
yon? '
" Not quite," said Christie,
laughing, amd feeling as though
she were acquainted with him,
'- but I hare something that will
do to sew bandages. I had a
necktio to hem for father, and I
took it along for work to-day at
my uncle's. The only trouble is
it is black silk, and I ought to
have white thread, but it will
do."
" Of course it will do," her new
friend said heartily. Did you ever
read fairy stories ? There is one
about a little woman who had in
her pocket, or in her month, or
her shoes, somewhere about her,
just the thing that wad wanted
next. I didn't know that fairies
travelled on the cars, but I
8 believe you mnst be her coasin at
least."
•»
" I wonder if yon should like does, for instance ; but suppose
some help in putting this bandage
on ? 1 have done such things
before now, and I think perhaps
my hands are a little
than yours."
you knew that her sister was very
sick, and that she was anxious to
get to her; if you could wouldn't
stronger , you make this train go on as fast
IIS possible, so as to give her a
" Oh !" said Christie, relieved, ohance to get to the city ?
and smiling, " I am so glad. I " Yes, sir," said Christie un-
didn't know how it would get on, hesitatingly, "I would of
I tried once to bandage father's
foot, and I did not do it well at
all ; but I thought I must do the
best I could this time, and maybe
it would last until he got to the
city. Are you a doctor, sir ?"
" Not quite ; I am only study-
ing, with the hope of being one
sometime. You did not know
yon were a teacher as well as a
fairy, did you ?"
I ?" said Christie, looking
greatly astonished,
course.
" Then you are better than
God ? You see he doesn't do it."
Christie considered this for a
moment, then said :
" But I might make a dreadful
mistake. Perhaps two trains
would run into each other, or it
might be all wrong in some way.
Yon see, God knows how to do
things, audi don't."
" Ah, bnt if you knew how to
« T I. L _ i. I.- do things, yon could plan so that
You. Ihave_been watchmg jt would be best. This is what
you all the morning, and I con
eluded just now, that it was time
I Toosed myself and began to
think of something besides my
own great disappointment I sup-
pose I shall reach the city just as
soon if I help to bandage that foot
as though I sat here and looked at
my watch, and longed for the train
to start."
The sentence ended with a little
sigh, and the anxious look came
back to his pale face as he skil-
fully rolled the bandage into a
hard little ball.
" I am very sorry for yon," said
Christie gently ; " I do hupe you
will get to the city in time ! and I
can't help thinking that you
will."
There was such a confident
little note in her voice that he
glanced at her curiously
" Do yonr fairy jiowers reach in
that direction ?'' he asked, smil-
ing just a little "Conid ^on
wave yonr wand, do you think,
and make this train start on its
way ?"
She shook her head, smiling,
yet with a serious mouth
" Nobody ever thought of such
a thing as calling me a fairy ; I'm
only Christie Tucker ; but I prsy.
ed to God to let yon get fo the city
as quick as he could, and to let
yonr friend get well. And I can-
not help thinking that he will do
it. I know he will if it is best,"
" How did you find that out ?"
" Why," said Christie, puzzled
how to answer this, yet feeling
that it ought to be answered, " of
course He will. He said so, you
know. Or, well, he said so about
some people. Are not you one
of them, sir ?"
" One of whom?''
" One of the people who love
God V Ho said he would make
everything come just right to the
people who love him. And he
never breaks a promise, you
know."
" Look here, little woman that
lady over there who is tearing a
letter into bits, has not been very
polite to you I have noticed, and I
suppose she doesn't love you
nearly as well as your mother
you say God does for those who
love Him, and I am showing you
that you would do it for those
who don't love yon, and are
therefore making yourself out to
be better than God. Don't yon
see?"
Christie looked distressed.
What she saw, was, that this man
needed to have somebody explain
things to him. He did not disturb
her faith, but how was she going
to show him that God was good to
all?
She thought it over in silence,
while he still rolled at the band-
age, which showed a perverse
desire to twist, and needed care
from her watchful fingers all the
time.
At last she said timidly, " I
know there is a way to explain,
but 1 don't know how to do it. If
you knew our minister, he could
tell you. Don't you think,
though, that some people won't let
God do the best for them ? He
wants them to choose to love
him, and then he can take care
of them and see that everjrthing
comes out all right. Oar mmister
told me about it. There was a
little boy living at Mr. Briggs',
that came all the way from the
Home for LittleWahderersinNew
York. Mr. Briggs tooV him to
work on the farm. His name is
Johnnie, and our minister said :
'What if Jo'nnnie should run
away, and refuse to live with Mr.
Briggs, conld he be taken care of
as he would have been if he had
stayed with the man who had
promised him a home ?' He said
a great deal more, and made it
real plain. Ifyon could talk with
him, I know he conld make you
understand ; bnt I am only a
little girl."
" You are a very good little
girl," he said gently, " and
whether I understand things as
you do or not, I thank you for
praying for me. That will not
do me any harm, I am snre.
Now we will go and see about
fitting the bandage to that sick
foot."
(7b be continued.)
THE GREAT ANT-EATER.
Whatever else we may say for
the Great Ant-eater, wo certainly
cannot c.ill him handsome. The
long snuut, and those prominent
claws, art! dccidely ugly ; but ho
would be sorry to part with them,
for they help him to secure his
food. Let us take n peep at him,
not as he is at the Zoo, — as shown
in our picture, — but in his native
land. Far away in Brazil and in
the swampy savannahs of Souih
America the ant-eater is at home.
What are these little mounds
on the ground ? These are the
lumuli eta the nouses of the white
ants are called. Very well built
and substantial residences they
are. But that does not secure
them from destruction by one
scratch of the ant-eater's formida-
ble claw. Then as the ants lun
hithiTiind thither in dismay, they
are quickly caught on the long
tongue of their foe, and gobbled
down, multitudes of them being
eaten at one meal. Well, they
can be easily spared, for they are
most destructive little things.
A gentleman once tamed a
young female ant-eater, and
taught it to eat meat and fish,
which had to be chopped up very
small, as ant-eaters have no teeth.
It was an affectionate pet, and
would run about after its master,
or any one to whom she had taken
a fancy, with its long nose close
to the ground, so as to find them
by the scent, for its sense of smell
was remarkably strong, though
the eyesight was weak. The poor
little creature did not live to grow
up. It always seemed bitterly
cold, though it was kept wrapped
np in a blanket; and at length it
pined away and died.
The Prater may be short,
bnt if it come hot from the heart
oi one in the thick of the battle;
will it not reach the ear to which
it is sent ? A few words —
Lord save us ! we perish — roused
up the Redeemer to save his dis-
ciples from the devouring sea.
Ah ! these prayers of men that
struggle are dear to Him that
hear them ; they consecrate a life,
they make a man's heart a very
church or temple in which wor-
ship is continually offered. These
are not days when the more use-
ful minds can find leisure for
much retirement and self-com-
muning. But to carry the praying
heart about with us into all that
our hands find to do is the special
need of our time. — Archbishop of
York.
To Delioht in giving nnto the
Lord is as mnch to be cultivated
as to delight in prayer or in speak-
ing for Jesus in a season of
revival, or in knowledge of the
precions promise and truths of
God or to be fervent in spirit,
serving the Lord, — North Carolina
Pretbylerian.
r ANT-EATER
le we may say for
jater, wo certainly
I handsome. The
d those prominent
ilely ugly ; but ho
to part with them,
[lim to secure his
iko n peep at him,
he Zoo, — as shown
—but in his native
ly in Brazil and in
ivannahs of South
iit-eater is at home,
iicso little mounds
? These are the
ouses of the white
Very well built
al residences they
t does not secure
^struction by one
ant-eater's formida-
m as the ants run
her in dismay, they
lught on the long
r foe, and gobbled
ides of them being
meal. Well, they
spared, for they are
re little things,
an once tamed a
B ant-eater, and
eat meat and fish,
)e chopped up very
aters have no teeth.
Hectionate pet, and
»nt after its master,
whom she had taken
its long nose close
, so as to find them
for its sense of smell
bly strong, though
as weak. The poor
did not live to grow
ys seemed bitterly
t was kept wrapped
et; and at length it
ad died.
2;
IR may be short,
hot from the hear t
thick of the battle;
,ch tke ear k> which
A few words —
we perish — roused
mor to save his dis-
the devouring sea.
■avers of men that
dear to Him that
ley consecrate a life,
man's heart a very
iple in which wor-
ually offered. These
when the more use-
lu Hud leisure for
nent and self-com-
to carry the praying
ith us into all that
to do is the special
time. — Archbiihop of
T in giving unto the
oh to be cultivated
n prayer or in speak-
iB in a season of
knowledge of the
mise and truths of
le fervent in spirit,
ord. — North Carolina
4*
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
19 T
CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS.
CHAPTER Vn-Cmlinutd.
Skilful fingers soon had the
foot moro comlortable than it had
been since the accident. Weils
submitted to the new helper
meekly, though he made a wry
face at Christie behind the piece
of handkerchief that was left
from the bandage.
" I don't know about liking that
man," he said to Christie when
the foot was nicely done up and
resting on the cushions of the
turned seat. " Ho might have
walked up before and helped you
IT 18 S.\RAH ANN !"
with that baby. He must have
seen that it was a tug for you."
" Men don't know about
babies," Christie answered
gravely, " but I am ghid that he
knows aboui-. handajjos. How
nicely ho did that ! It looks just
ns though a doctor had been here,
Well, he is a doctor."
" The mischief, he is ' Then I
oui^ht to have offered to pay
him."
" Oh, no!" said Christie, dis-
tressed, " I don't believe he would
have liked that. Ho did it lor
kiudnrss, not lor pay. He is very
pleasant, but just as sad! He
gives very long sighs, right in the
midst of his talk. I am sorry for
him ; sorrier than before he helped
us."
" Why ?"
" Because I am afraid he
doesn't believe in God. He is
not one of Hod's people, I'm most
sure : because thi^y never talk in
that way, and it makes things a
gri'at deal harder to bear."
"Talk in what way ? How do
yon tell people of that kind?"
" Why, he almost iound fault
with Ood ! Talk.'d as though he
did not buliuvo that God woald
do the best for everybody. And
you know his children never say
such things."
" Don't they ? I'm sure I did
not know it. I guess I am not
acquainted with many of them.
I'll tell you what it is, Christie, I
have a brother whom I would
like to have yon make understand
things if you could. Ho is sick
and lame, and will never beany
better ; and he got so by helping
somebody else : doing his duty,
you know. It would be hard
work for you to make him believe
that things are just right in this
world. He thinks it is awful that
he doesn't get well. And I must
say it seems most too bad.
Ho was a splendid
scholar, you see, led his
class in college and was
going to make a great
man, people thought;
now it is all spoiled, and
he suffe.s all the time,
and will have to, as long
as he lives.''
" What hurt him ?"
asked Christie, her eyes
full of sympathy and sor-
row.
'" Why, a house wos
burning, and he climbed
a ladder when nobody
else would, and went in-
side and saved a little
babv: and part of the
wall fell on him and
hurt his back. The
doctor says he will never
beany better."
Christie's tears came
outright now.
"I'm so sorry for him!"
she said ; " but if he only
knew God, it would be a
great deal easier to bear.
What a long, long,
morning it was! The
baby had his nap out,
and awoke and fretted a good deal,
and cried outright for his mamma,
and drank some more milk, and
played with the old gentioman's
gold headed cane, and went over
to the pale-faced young man and
was entertained for a while, and
cried some more, and was given
a cookie, and t>t last fell asleep
again. And there that train stood
immovable. It began to be
certain now, and there was serious
trouble. Word came, through
railway men, that the track was
injured a long distance ahead, and
lor that reason no train could get
from the city to relieve them.
To add to the dreariness, it
began to rai«i; a iii>rci», driving
storm, and ofcourso tiie mud grew
deeper every moment.
"Dear, dear !'' said Christie "I
hope they don't know about it at
home. Mother will be so worried
that she won't know what to do."
" It's most a wonder that your
people let you start out," said
Wells. " I suppose the morning
papers gave an account of the
mischief done by the rain in the
night : but our Iblks are all away,
and I, like an idiot, never looked
at a paper."
Then Christie, her cheeks some-
what red, explained that they did
not take a daily paper, that father
couldn't quite afford it yet, and so
they had known nothing about
trouble on the railway.
" There is always some trouble
with this road, "said Wells, feeling
cross. " First it is a freshet, and
then a landslide, or a washout,
or the engine gives out, I don't
know how many times we have
been detained, but never so long
as this. I should like to know
what we are to do for some
dinner ? I know I am as hungry
as a wolf. I didn't eat much
breakfast this morning ; it was so
sort of stupid to be silting in that
groat dining-room ail alone."
It was after twelve o'clock
when this remark was made.
The patience of everybody in
the car was exhausted, and Chris-
tie was beginning to look anxious-
ly at the dribble of milk left in the
pitcher. What should she do if
the train did not start soon, or the
mother come ?
" That doctor of yours will have
to plunge through the mud and
get us some more milk, or some-
thing," said Wells at last, trying
to raise himself on his elbow to
get a view of the rainy world.
"What object is that!" he said
as he drew back his head.
" Look, Christie, there are two of
them, and they are dragging n
basket between them that must
be decidedly heavy. How are
they ever going to get I'uioughthat
puddle of water ? And where are
they bound for, do you suppose?"
Said Christie, "It is Sarah
Ann !"
CHAPTER Vni.
Sure enough ! there she came,
ploughing through the mud
which had grown much deeper
since morning.
The large basket that she car-
ried seemed to weigh her down,
and she made slow progress.
"Deal, dear!" baid Christie.
" One of them ought to have had
.Tosiah's hoots. Idon't know how
they will ever manage to get
through the puddles. Look, ftM
baby ! If you were a man, yl/if
you would go right out an^
try to help them, wouldn't
you?"
Nobody took this hint, and
the two floundered along, and
climbed the high step of the
car platform ; then Sarah
Ann set down her basket,
and looked curiously in at the
doo.'.
"What do you want?"
asked a brakesman who ap-
peared just then, sticking his
head out of the door.
Surah Ann spoko up
boldly :
" We want the girl with the
baby, who saved .Timmy
from getting burned to death;
mother sent her dinner, and
some things for the rest, if
she's a mind to give 'em to
'em."
This was bewildering news
to the brakesman. He looked from
the girl to the woman, with a
puzzled face. He understood the
word "dinner," and there was
certainly a baby on the train ; but
who was Jimmy, and when was
he saved from burning to death ?
However, Wells Burton under-
stood, and came to the rescue :
" It is all right, brakesman, sev-
erol things have happened since
you went for a walk. The party to
whom that dinner belongs is here,
and I'm inclined to think that a
good many people who feel the
pangs cf hunger, wish they were
i'ribnds of hers."
Such fun as it was to unpack
that basket !
Christie did not know before
that so many things could be
crowded into a basket. Bread
and butter, piles of it, a soup
plate piled high with slices of
ham, thin, and done to a crisp,
and smelling, oh, so appetizing !
sheets of gingerbread, great
squaresofcheese, a bowl of dough-
nuts, another bowl of quince
sauce, and a pail full of milk.
"Mother said you could give
some to anybody you pleased,"
explained Sarah Ann, who seemed
to have recovered her spirits ;
" she said father wouldn't grudge
anything to the girl who saved
Jimmy from gettinsj hurt. My !
but I was scared!" she added
confidentially. " Whoso baby is
that ? Isn't he your little brother?
What makes him so good with
you if he don't belong? Jimmy
would yell awful if a strange girl
took him. My sakes! I hope his
mother will find him. Do you
mean to keep him always if she
doesn't, and bring him up for
yours?" Wouldn't that bo funny,
lor a little girl like you to adopt a
baby ! Oh, wouldn't it ? "
What a tongue Sarah Ann had !
Wells was laughing im-
moderately, and [>retending that
it was a violent cough, to save
Sarah Ann's feelings, and no
peony was ever so brilliant as
Christie's cheeks. She tried
THE OTHER OIRL PEEPTNO IN.
!? 20
REPRINTEli STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
-®(4i
' to thank the girl for her kind'
neBs, but no words seemed to
oome at her call. However, Sarah
Ann was toomach interested in ail
that she saw around her, to mind
whether she was thanked or not.
She next gave attention to Wells.
" Is that your brother ?" and
then without waiting for an
answer, " why didn't he come
after the milk ? oh, my ! a sprain
is a real mean thing, sometimes.
Jed Barker sprained his foot, last
summer, and he had to have it cut
off."
After this cheering
bit o( news, the girl
who had had her head
in the oven when
Christie was there, and
who had been standing
at one side of the door,
peeping in in an abash-
ed way, now found
voice :
" Sarah Ann, you'd
ontrht to be ashamed !
Your ma toid you not
to let your tongue get
to running. Come out
here, and lot her eat
her dinner, and then
you can get the dishes."
"I ain't said noth-
ing," declared Sarah
Ann, looking aggriev-
ed.
However, she turned
quickly and went out
to the platform.
" There's a rare
specimen of a girl for
you !" said Wells.
'She's a genius, I
should say. DoeH
Jimmy look like her?
If he does, I don't
wonder that you saved
his life."
"I don't think she
means to do anything
wrong," said Christie,
hesitatingly, " It is
just because she doesn't
know any better. It
must have been very
hard work to carry this
basket througli the
mud."
"Wrong !" exclaimed
Wells, " I should say
not ! On the contrary
she is the only one of
this crowd, yourself
excepted, who has done
anything right since we
started. Does your
mother enjoy having
you say, 'this crowd,
when you mean half a
dozen people ? Mine considers
it slang, and I never say it any
more, except on special occasions."
" I never say it at all," answer-
ed Christie lau-rliing.
Daring this time she had been
engaged in unpacking the basket,
and now had the contents arrang-
ed neatly on a large clean towel
whicU she brought out of the
ilowered carpet sack. How nice
it was that mother had wrapped
the cookies first in a towel!
What would she think ifsheknew
it was doing duty as a tablecloth,
and that her Christie was serving
dinner for half a dozen hungry
strangers !
I don't suppose that bread and
butter and ham ever tasted better.
The old gentleman declared that
he was sure there never was any
so good before, and the pale
young man ate quite a large piece
of bread, and smiled in gratitude ;
and beveral men, who with
gloomy faces, and hands in their
pockets, strayed in from the
person aa she never eats anything
more solid than a bit of ice-cream,
and a little pound cake, you may
be sure."
But Christie did not laugh. In-
stead, she looked troubled, and af-
ter a while thoughtfully laid aside
a delicate bit of ham, and a thin
slice of bread and butter. Diving
down into her satchel again, she
brought ojit a piece of an old
tablecloth, beautifully clean and
white ; the seed cakes for uncle
Daniel's baby had been wrapped
CHINESE SWALLOWS.
different cars, accepted Christie's
off'er of a ham sandwich with sur-
prise and thanks.
" Would you oiler some to the
lady V Christie asked in a
whisper of Wells, glancing doubt-
fully in her direction.
" What ! the Seiuide Library
in it. On this white cloth she
laid the bread and butter, two of
the seed cakes, a delicate piece of
gingerbread, and a fragment of
cheese.
"I'm going to carry these to
her," she said to Wells, inclining
her head as she spoke in the
creitture ? I beg that you will direction of the lady,
not misuse language so badly as
to call her a lady. I should say
that 1 wouldn't do any such thing.
You would probably get refused
for your pains. Such a delicate
Rhe won't take them."
"I can't help it. I shall feel
ashamed of myself if I don't offer
them, and I don't like to feel
ashamed of myself,"
'* There is something in that,"
Wella said, laughing, yet with a
look in his eyes, that said he was
proud of Christie. " Go ahead ;
I'll keep watch and be ready to dpe-
fend yon,if she is inclined to bite."
(To be ennUnued.)
BIRD'S NEST SOUP.
Every one has heard of the
famous bird's nest soup, which is
known to be such a luxury among
the Chinese. We give here a
very clear picture of
the birds which build
the nests and the nests
themselves. The birds,
you will see, are species
of swallow. They in-
habit the coast of China
and neighboring coun-
tries and build their
nests on the walls of
the caves along the
shore, sticking them
against the fiat wall in
precisely the same way
as our chimney swal-
lows do. The nests
are about the size of a
goose egg and resem-
ble isinglass. For a long
time people did not
know how these were
built. One theory was
that the bird made
them from a kind of
seaweed upon which it
fed. Butthey feed upon
insects just as other
birds do. They have
however, a set of
glands corresponding
to the salivary glands
at the side of the
mouth, and these
secrete the gelatinous
material used by the
birds in building their
nests.
The nests when
brought to market are
of three qualities. The
new nests, in which no
young ones have been
reared, looking clear
like pure gelatine and
almost white, the
second quality of a
dincy, brown color and
looking generally dirty,
and the third those in
which little ones have
been reared and
all stuck over with
feathers and covered
with filth of all sorts.
The soup in which the
nests are used has
a gelatinous look and feeling,
somewhat like diluted jelly, and
is considered by the Chinese a
very great dainty. Of coiirso the
best soup is made from the nests
of the hrst quality, but we Ifiir
that in this, as in other thincfs, the
second and third qualities are not
entirely ignored.
01
The Lord is the strength of my
life ; of whom shall I be afraid ? —
Psa. 27: 1.
^
MV
thing in that,"
ig, yet with a
at said he was
"Qo ahead ;
be ready to de-
clined to bite."
linued.)
T SOUP.
heard of the
ionp, which is
.Inzary amon^
I givo hero a
ar picture of
B which build
and the nests
■es. The birds,
see, are ppecies
iw. They in-
! coast of China
hboring couu-
d build their
the walls of
!8 along the
iticking them
be flat wall in
' the same wa;
:himney swi
>. The nests
t the size of a
fg and resem-
lass. For a long
ople did not
)W these were
)ne theory was
e bird made
om a kind of
upon which it
;they feed upon
just as other
3. They have
', a set of
corresponding
alirary glands
side of the
and these
the gelatinous
used by the
building their
way
ival-
n
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THK ' NORTHERN MESSENGER."
nests when
to market are
{ualitius. The
, in which no
nes have been
looking clear
gelatine and
white, the
quality of a
own color and
eneraily dirty,
bird those in
ttle ones have
reared and
over with
and covered
h of all sorts.
in which the
used has
and feeling,
itcd jolly, and
10 Chiiit'se a
Of courso the
rom the lu'sts
but Wd li'ar
ler ihinirs, the
lalities are not
itrengthof my
I be airaid ? —
CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS.
CHAPTER Vlll-Continufd.
And Christie went. She had
done her best, t :id the food
certainly did not look uninviting,
but the lady had worked herself
by this time ip' such a state of
disgust, that ink it would
have been ver. rd for her to be
good.
She gave one disdainful glance
at the ragged edges of the piece
of table cloth, then shook her
head : " No, thank you. I am
not reduced to that state yet."
Then, seeing the flaming color
in Christie's* cheeks, she seemed
to struggle to make herself be-
have better.
" I'm not afraid of you, child,"
she said, "yoit-look noat, I am
sure ; bat alter seeing the hands
and hair of the girl who brought
the basket, I could not eat a
mouthful."
Not a word said Christie. She
carried her bit of tablecloth back,
and laid it on the seal, covering
the food irora the dust ; her eyes,
meantime, swimming with tears.
" How long does it take people
to starve?" Wells asked fiercely
of the old gentleman who was in
the act of oiting a huge piece of
ham.
Evidently he understood Wells'
meaning, and smiled. But Chris-
tie could not smile.
Baby, meantime, was in rol-
licking humor. Apparently he
had resolved that his mother was
not worthy of any more tears, or
frettings, and he kept one pretty
arm around Christie's neck, and
ate seed cakes, and drank milk,
with delight
On the whole, it was a very
nice dinner, and the different
people who came from the other
car, and shared it, all agreed that
■'Sarah Ann" ought to have a
vote of thanks.
" I'll tell you what will be better
than that," said the old gentle-
man, pnting his hand into his
iwcket; "at least we can add it
to the thanks, and make her
happy. Let us take up a nice
little collection for her to get her-
self a pair of rubber boots to climb
through the mud in," and he
dropped a shining gold bit into
Christie's hand.
" And a comb to comb her hair
with," added Wells as he laid aj
silver dollar beside the gold
piece; "you advise her to l>ny
one, Christie, that's a good girl."
The rough-looking men seemed
equally pleased with the idea, and
dropped their fifty cent pieces
into the eager little hand, and
the pale young man actually
added another gold piece.
I wish you could have seen
Christie's eyes, as her hand began
to grow full ! It seemed to her
that she was never so hap^>y in
her life. It was so splendid to
;iye people things ; she had never
lad that pleasure before.
" I haven't any money," she
1^
said softly to Wells, " but I am so
glad that the rest of you have ;
and it is so nice in you to let me
give it to her. Just think what a
lot of nice things it will buy her !
I know they are poor by the looks
of the kitchen. I think it was
real good in them to send us
dinner."
" So it was ; and it was real
good of the woman to be such an
excellent cook. I haven't had a
better dinner in a long time ; hut
I say, Christie, what are you
saving that choice bit in the cloth
for? You don't mean to relent
and let the baby have it after
all!"
" No ;" said Christie laughing,
" baby must be content with seed
cakes, and milk ; I know his
mamma does not let him eat ham,
and I am not going to ran the
risk ; but I thought I would keep
that, for a little while."
The remainder of the milk had
been carefully poured into what
Wells called " the company
pitcher," to be kept for baby ;
and Christie went with basket
and money out to Sarah Ann on
the platform.
Just as she came back with her
eyes full of the story of the girl's
dumb surprise, a lady was open-
ing the opposite door and coming
down the aisle. A middle-aged
lady, elegantly dressed, and with
a placid smile on her face.
" I thought I must come and
look after the little fairy who so
kindly famished us with a
dinner," she said brightly. " Is
this the one ? My child, you did
not know I had some of your
dinner, did you ? but that patient
brakesman out there, shared his
slice of bread and ham with me,
and told me the whole story. I
want to see the baby. If I had
heard of him before, I should
have come and tried to help.
Yes ; I have been sitting in that
Doxt ear all the time ; but I was
t!0 stupid as to go to sleep and lose
most of the excitements. Why,
Wells Burton! I wonder if you
are hero ?"
" Yos'm ;" said .Wells briskly,
I'm hero, Mrs. Havihiud ; but I
did not know that you were."
Did you go to sleep before the
accident and the stopping of the
train ?"
"No, indi'cd ! I stayed awake
for that excitement, and heard all
about it, and the forethought
of this little woman, but you see
I did not know it was you, and
there seemed to be so many
crowding in, and nothing to do
but stare, that I thought I
wouldn't join them. And so it
was you who were hurt? My
dear boy, how distressed your
mother must be !" exclaimed Mrs.
Haviland, bending over him
pityingly. " Where is she, and
all the rest of them, and how is it
that you are spending Christmas
day on the cars ?"
'There seemed no end to the
questions that the handsome lady
had to ask Christie meantime,
was engaged in watching the
" Seaside library woman," as I
am afraid that the lady will have
to be called for the rest of the
story. The moment (hat the
stranger had ezclamed:
"Why. Wells Burton !" the lady
had given a sudden surprised
start, and her lace had flashed
deeply. At least she knew the
name, if she did not the
boy, and for some reason, the
knowledge seemed to disturb her.
Just than the stranger turned
in her direction, and bowed
slightly as some people do when
they know persons a little bit,
and do not care to know them
any better.
Wells noticed the bow, and
was ready with questions.
" Mrs. Haviland, I wonder if
you are acquainted with that
creature. Who is she ?"
" My dear boy, have yon been
travelling with her all day, with-
out knowing who she is ? Did
you ever hear of a person by the
name of Henrietta Westville ?"
" I should think I had ! You
don't say that she is the one !
" That is her name, my boy."
" Well ! I wonder that I had
not thought of it for myself.
The name fits her character pre-
cisely, of all the cantankerous,
disgusting creatures that I ever
saw, she" —
" Softly, softly, my dear Wells,
what would ' moiJier' say to such
language as that ?"
" I don't care," declared Wells,
" the language doesn't begin with
the subject. Mamma is rea-
sonable. She knows that a fellow
has to boil over once in a while.
Why, Mrs. Haviland, you never
heard the like of the way in which
she has conducted herself to-day."
And then Wells launched out
in a description of the conduct of
the "Seaside library creature," and
Christie took the sleeply baby to a
seat on the other side of the car
to coo him to sleep, and to
wonder who this lady was, and
why Wells cared because the
young woman was named
Henrietta Westville, and what he
was telling the stranger about
herself, for at this moment she
overheard her own name.
CHAPTER IX.
The baby went to sleep, and
the strange lady continued talk-
ing with Wells. So Christie, feel-
ing a little lonely after so much
excitement, looked about her for
amusement, and discovered that
the nice old gentlemam was
motioning to her.
"Come and take care of me
a while, little woman," he said,
making room for her. " Between
us we can catch the baby before
he makes up his mind to roll
away. You must be tired look-
ing after him. I wish his mother
knew what good care he had."
" I am used to it," exclaimed
Christie. " I take a great deal of
care of our baby ; but I am sorry
for his mother r
Christie meant the mother of
the baby on the i-ars, not the baby
at home.
The old gentleman understood
her.
"It is a bad busineso, he said
cheerly ; " but not so bad but it
might have been worse. Suppose,
for instance, you had not been on
the cars, what would baby have
done then ? Forthat matter,whaf
would any of us have done with-
out oar dinner ? That was an
excellent dinner you got up for us.
ow have you enjoyed the day,
on the whole ?"
" Why," said Christie laughing,
" I haven't had time to think. It
isn't a bit such a day as I had
planned."
" I imagine not. Mine isn't, I '
know. Let us hear what you had
planned, and see if your ex-
pectations were any like mine."
"Oh, no!" said Christie;
"they couldn't be! Why, in the
first place, I was to take my first
ride on the cars. Well, I have
done that, though we didn't ride
very far before We stopped."
" Just so ; and we seem to find
it hard work to get on again. I
wonder if this is your first ride !
Well, well ! you will not be likely
to forget it, will you? And
where were you going?"
" Why, I expected to spend all
this day at my uncle Daniel's in
the city! I have never been
there, you know, and he lives in
a nice house, and has a great
many things that I wanted to
see."
" Do you mind telling me the
thing that you wanted to see the
most ?"
A shy little blush came into
Christie's face, and she droope'd
her head.
" It was very silly, I suppose,
but I wanted to see the carpet in
the parlor. It is what they call
Brussels, and has ferns all oyer it,
so natural that mother says you
could most pick them ; and some
berries like what mother lised to
gather in the woods where she
lived, away off East. I never saw
such a carpet, rmd I can't think
what it would be like. It doesn't
seem to me that they could make
natural-looking ferns out of
threads of v/ool ; and I wanted to
see if I should think so. Then '
she has pretty furniture in her
room, all painted in flowers —
roses, you know — and pansies,
and oh ! a great many flowers and
vines, just lovely ! I never saw
anything like that, either; and I-
couldn't think how they would
look."
The old gentleman got out his
only remaining handkerchief,'
and drew it across his mouth, to
hide hiu smile that he did hot
want Christie to see; and then
drew it across his eyes, for sc>me-
thing in her voice seemed to
make the tears start.
" I understand," he said, his
voice full of kindly sympathy ;
" and so these were the things
that you most wanted to see ?"
AH^
U
22
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE " NORTH KRN MESSENGER.'
1
A
" No, «ir," said Christie ; " not
quite. I thought a good deal
about them; but there was one
thing that I thought I should look
at more than anything else, and
mav be touch."
There was a curious little note
of awe in her voice as she said
these last words that made her
listener bend his head curiously,
and question iu tones of deepest
interest :
" What was that ?"
" A piano."
She spoke the words almost
under her breath.
" My dear child ! did you
never see a piano?"
"Oh, no, sir. My mother
has, often. She used to play
on one when she was a girl,
and she has told mo about
it often and often. 1 think I
know just how it looks. I
can shut my eyes and see it;
and I on think a little how
it sounds ; at least, it suems
as though I could. It isn't
like the carpet. I can't im-
gine that; but the music is
easier. Father has a flute. We
have a carpet, oi course." she
added, drawing herself up
with a bit of womanly
dignity, *' but it is made of
rags, and looks very diii'ereut
from lirussels, mother says.
And I can't imagine a very
great difTerence in carpets;
but I can imagme things
about music, you know."
" I know," nodde I the old
gentlcm in ; and he thought
to himself that lie knew
several things which she
didn't.
After a little ho sai I :
" And so you are missing
all these wonders ; but a
good many interesting
things have happened, I
should think ?"
Then did Christie's eyes
sparkle.
" I should think there
had!" she said. "I was
thinking just a little while
ago that I should have
enough to tell mother and
father and Karl all the rest
of the winter. Wo have
only a few books and wo
have to tell things to each
other, instead of reading.
Father said I was to keep my
eyes open to-day, and I guess he
will think I have."
This last she said with a happy
little laugh.
" I gui.'ss ho will," declared the
old gentleman, "Mid I hope he
will understand to what (rood
purpose you have done it. What
(lid you expect to see in the city
that would interest you? '
"Oh, I didn't know. A very
great many things. I suppose ;
but I coulf'n t imagine them.
Only one : Ono day father, when
he was ill (ho city, saw (he
Oovcrnor of (ho Stale ; you know
ho lives there. And to go tu
uncle Daniel's, wo ride past his
house ; and I thought, may be, he
might be in the door, as he was
when father went by, and I
would see him. Father says he
is a splendid-looking man, and he
is a grand temperance man, you
know, and I wanted just to have
a glimpse of him ; but I don't
suppose I shall."
Then the old gentleman took
out his handkerchief and used it
vigorously on nose, and eyes and
even mouth.
"He isn't at home to-day," he
said at last.
" Isn't he ?"
There was real disappointment
in Christie's voice. It was
evident that she had not quite
given up her glimpse of the
Governor.
"No; but you needn't care
now, after having had such a nice
chance to look at him, and even
talk with him."
You should have seen Christie's
face then. For a moment she
was quite pale with bewilder-
ment.
" 1 don't understand you." she
said timidly, and iu her heart she
wondered whether the nice old
gentleman was a little crazy.
I
THE FRIKND AT MIDNir.HT ]
OB, THE UEWARD Or IMPOBTUKIIT.
(Luke xi. 0-13 )
At midnight to Ilia sleeping friend
Hu tiirttp, ami knoclcinL; at the door,
Iluhcgg aij<l )>ra)8 that ho will lend
Threa luave« to liim from out his store.
■' For at my gate e'en now there stands
A friend of mine, nil travel-worn
And unexpected, who demands
Comfort and food hefoie the mom."
Llis lialf-waked friend, within, replies
"Trouhlo nie not, my door U barr'd,
lly children pleip, I cannot rise."
Buvh his refusal cold and hard.
But he, without, quits not the door :
Mt)rui*lronply prPKsiny hin riMjuest,
He knocks still louder tlian Itefure,
And gives his churlish friend no reet ;
Till, through the window, from iihovo.
The liiaveii are granted to his pUa,
Orf iKingly ttranted — not (or love,
But fur hi« importunity.
We have a Friend, who slumbers not.
To all our needs and cares awake ;
At midnight dark, or noonday hot,
To Him our sorrows we may take.
Whene'er wo humbly aik He hears.
Or earnest seek, lie marks our cry.
And when wo knock witli sobs and tears,
He opens to us instantly.
The bar of sin, which closed the door,
Himself has taken clean away ;
The gate flies open ever more
To all who trust iu Him and pray.
In every pressino wan or woe,
Which weighs on us, or those we love,
To our true Friend, O let us go,
And Ue will help us from above.
lie is not troubled with our prayer,
Or weary of our urgent plea :
He bids us cast on him our care.
Ue loves our importunity I
Richard Wiltok.
" Why, my dear child, it is a
good while since morning, I
know, but my memory is good,
and I distinctly remember seeing
you sit up straight in that seat
over there beside the Governor
of the State, and heard him talk-
ing to you in what seemed to be a
very interesting way,"
Christie sat up straight now, her
eyes glowing like two stars, her
small hands clasped together, and
her voice with such a ring of
wondering delight in it that Wells
stopped in the middle ^f his
sentence to look over at her,
" Really ond truly ?"
That was all she said,
" Really and truly, I saw
it with my own eyes. And
a grand man he is; worth
knowing."
N'lt another word scid
Christie for the space of two
minutes. Then slie drew a
long, fluttering sigh of
delight, and murmured :
" What a thing to tell father
and mother and Karl."
" You like to see people of
importance, do you ?" tho
old gentleman asked, after
watching her face in amused
silence for a few minutes.
" Oh, 60 very much !
People who are grand, and
splendid, a id worth know-
ing."
Then I suppose you would
have been interested in one
of the Governor's children,
for instance, even if you did
not know the boy ; just lor
the sake of his father ?"
"Yes. indeed, I should.
Bui he didn't have any boy
with him this morning."
"No; I was thinking of
myself, and of my father, and
wondering whether yon
would not bo interested iu
me for his sake."
Christie thought to herself
that she was interested in
him fur his own sake, but
she did not like to say this,
so she waited expectantly
for what would come next.
"Tho truth is, I belong to
a very noble family : old and
grand iu every wcy. It
would bo impossible to get
any higher in rank than my
brother is."
Christie heard this with
wondering awe, and looked
timidly into the pleasant face
beaming on her. She saidtoher-
selfthrtt she had thought all tho
time there was something per-
fectly splendid about him. but it
had not occured to her that ho
belonged to such very grand
people.
{To be cnnlinued.)
GoDT,iNi!ss consists not in a
heart to intend to do the will of
God. but iu a heart to do it. —
Junalhun Edwards,
Live in (ho present, (hat you
may be ready for the future.
Charles Kings/ey
t
-®H9
dear child, it is a
siiico morning, I
y memory is good,
\y remember seeing
traight in that seat
esido the Governor
ind heard him talk-
what seemed to bo a
ng way."
up straight now, her
like two stars, her
lasped together, and
ith such a ring of
Jightia it that Wells
the middle 6i his
lok over at her.
ly and truly ?"
vas all &ho said,
ly and truly. I saw
ny own eyes. And
man he is; worth
[mother word enid
lor the space of two
. Then she drew a
(luttering sigh ol
and mnrumred :
\ thing to tell father
her and Karl."'
like to soe people of
lice, do you ?" the
tleman asked, after
g her face in amused
lor a few minutes.
60 very much !
who are grand, and
I, a id worth know-
I suppose you would
!en interested in one
Ltovernor's children,
mce, even if you did
5W the boy ; just lor
I of his father '?"
, indeed, I should,
didn't have any boy
m this morning."
I was thinking of
ind of my father, and
nir whether you
not be interested in
lis sake."
tie thought to herself
was interested in
his own sake, but
not like to say thiB,
waited expectantly
t would como next.
truth is, I belong to
oble family : old and
in every wcy. It
>o impossible to get
her in rank than my
is."
heard this with
awe, and looked
the pleasant face
ler. She said to her-
had thought all the
was something per-
id about him, but it
red to her that ho
such very grand
>e cnnlinued.)
IIEPRINTFD STOUIK.S. KHOM TUK •' NOHTHKIIN MKSSENtJKR."
consists not in a
nd to do the will of
n heart to do it. —
nurds,
10 present, that yon
ly for the future.—
uley
CHRISTIE'S CHRISTMAS.
BY PAN8T.
CHAPTER IX-CoiKinwd.
" My brother is a king," he said,
Btill smiling. Then Christie's
heart began to beat loud and fast.
A king ! What a wonderful ex-
perience was this ! She, Christie
Tucker, talking with the brother
of a king! In wnat country, she
wondered ? And oh, what
wonderful stories he could tell
her if she only dared ask ! Why
didn't ho wear something that
would show his rank ? She
thought they always did. She was
burning with eagerness to have
him go on, yet dared not question.
" Are you surprised ?" ne asked
her, and then the next thing he
said almost took away her
breath.
"Do you know I believe yon
are a relation of mine ? I have
been watching you all day, and I
see a strong likeness to
onr family. There are
certain thmgs about ns
which are very much
alike, and as we are
scattered all over the
world I often find
relatives. I believe you
are one. In iiict, anless
I am very much mis-
taken, you are a little
sister of the King. Do
yon know what I mean;
and isn't it so?"
Down went Christie's
head, drooping lower
and lower, until her
face was buried in her
two hands and she was
wiping away the tears.
Wells stopped again,
and looked over some-
what fiercely at her
companion, but the face
that was raised in a
moment was bright
with smiles. Christie
understood. ' •
"I didn't, at first,"
she said ; " but now
I do. Oh, you mean King
Jesos! Yes, sir, I belong.
I thought yon truly meant that
you had a brother who was a
king."
"And I certainly truly mean
it, and glory in it, as I could not
in anything else. Yon cannot
think how pleased I have been to
find a new little sister, and to see
that she was copying my elder
brother so faithfully, that she be-
gan to look like Him. It is all
very well to be a governor, and I
am proud ot our ^od one ; but
after all, what is he compared
to the King whose subjects we
are ? Did you ever think, my
dear, how many relatives we have
whom we have never met? What
a wonderful getting acquainted
there will be when we all meet
in the palace !"
' I never thought of it in that
way,'" said Christie; "It is
beautiful."
" Then there is another thing :
the family resemblance issostrik-
ingthatil you watch lonir enough,
you are almost sure to loam who
belong to it. Do you think that
pale young man is a member of
our family?"
Christie looked over at him
thoughtfully, then shook her
head.
"No, sir, I don't think he i.s.
Why, from some things he has
said, 1 know he isn't."
" Poor man ! Do you suppose
he has been invited to join us ?"
" Why, yes, sir, I suppose so a
good many times."
" And has refused ! That is
strange, isn't it ? Look here, he
will accept somebody's invitation,
won't he, if he ever gets home to
the King's palace ? What if it
should be yours ? That would be
a thing to tell the King, some day,
wouldn't it?"
Christie's face glowed, but she
made no answer.
" Then there is that handsome
failed of ever making His ac-
quaintance."
Whereupon the baby awoke,
and Christie went with haste to
save his precious head from the
bumping thathe seemed determin-
ed to give it; but she could not
get away from the words of her
old new friend.
What if she ought to invite the
pale young man, and the dis-
agreeable young lady, to join the
family circle ? She did not mind
talking with Well8,now, but these
others were different.
By and by Mrs. Haviland bade
Wells good-by, and went back to
her car, and he motioned Christie
to his side.
" I've discovered something
about my fine lady," he said, a
fierce look in hiseyes; "I'll tell you
about it, and you will see that it
is not strange that she is so hate-
ful ; it belongs to her nature. You
know I was telling you of my sick
brother? Well, before he was
23 Y
—ap*^. ^ ,. -.Ki^
UNCLE DANIEL'S HOUSE,
r. -S«H"fc'iT:>-
^»_, .73, v-^ , .,
very cross and ugly, and they
can t seem to help it. One time
when Karl was sick, and I was
afraid he was going to die, I felt
cross all the time. Maybe she
likes your brother very much, and
feels eo sorry for what she has
done, that she cannot be good and
happy."
" She may be as good as she
likes," Wells siid, sourly, "but I
am sure she deserves never to be
happy again."
"She must be very hungry,"
said Christie thought luUy. " By
and by I mean to otfer her a seed
cake. The dirty-faced little girl
had nothing to do with that, mid
I know it is clean ; maybe she can
eat it."
"You're a queer party," Wells
said. "Ifl had been treated once as
you have, 1 think I should dislike
her enough to keep my distance."
" Oh, it isn't that ! I suppose I
dislike her — well, a good deal.
But I want to get over it, and
what you told me helps
me to. I want to feel
sorry for her, and ask
her to be a Christian.
You see she isn't a
Christian, and that
makes all the trouble.
If she would get right
about that, it would
make everything else
straight. Anyway, I
onght to invito rher, be-
cause Jesus told me to,
Tou know ; andif >give
her a seed cake, maybe
I can do if better."
" Humph !" said
Wells, twisting liim-
self around until he
hurt his foot, and made
deep frowns come on
his forehead.
He really did not
know what to think of
Christie.
.-.-■.T
CHAPTER X.
boy. I have been thinking about
him. I am not sure, but am al-
most afraid that be does not belong,
either."
" No, sir," said Christie, " he
doesn't."
" There is certainly a great deal
for you and me to do right in this
car," the old gentleman said, and
added, "what about the young
lady ; is she acquainted with Him,
do you think?"
" No, indeed," said Christie, a
touch of scorn in her voice. " It
is easy enough to see that. I think
she shows it all the time."
" Ah, I don't know ! Hare yon
never disguised yourself for a
whole day so that nobody would
have imagined that yon were a
member of the royal family ?"
" Yes, sir," said Christie
irnmbly, "I have."
" Still, I am afraid, as you sar,
that she does not know Him. It
would be dreadful if, through any
neglect of yours or mine she.
injured, he was engaged to that
very hateful young woman over
there. Isn't that horrid ? After
the fire, and it was found that he
would be a cripple all his life,
what did she do but write that she
was sorry for him, but she never
could think of marrying a crip-
ple. " Yes," he said in an answer
to Christie's look of horror, " she
did just that Why my brother
cared, is more than 1 can imagine ;
but he did: it made him sick
again, and he has never been so
well, and . never will be.
I never saw her before,
and don't want to agrin, I have
heard enough abont her, and I
am sure her actions all match."
But this story had a very
different effect on Christie from
what Wells had supposed.
" I am sorry for her now," she
said. " I think, maybe, she feels
unhappy all the time, and that
makes her cross. When things
goal) wrong, it makes some people
®HSPW»-
Little by little that
weary afternoon wore
away. The rain fell
steadily, and the mud grew deep-
er every minute ; and the
grumblings of some of Ibe people
grew louder, thongh all the while
their courage was kept up by
having an official appear
occasionally, to say that he
" guessed they would get on now,
pretty soon."" Baby waked, and
frolicked, and fretted, and drank
milk, and was trotted, and carried,
and petted, as well as Christie and
the old gentleman could manage
it ; and Ihe swollen foot was
bathed, and all the seed cakes
wereeaten, and the the paleyoung
man walked miles, just going up
and down the car, " like a caged
lion," Wells said.
Christie pitied him so much,
that she went over to him at last
as he stood by the further door o''
the car, and said timidly : " 1
think, sir, if yon would make up
your mind to pray to God, you
would feel so much better ! He
can make it all come out right, j,
«C4S
S\
* » Ton
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MES SENGER."
yon now, even now. Why won't
yon aak him ">"
The young mBU turned toward
her a (feapairing face "If your
inother chould die to-day, while
you are sitting hero in a mud hole,
waiting to get out, would it be
all right?" he asked.
" I nave asked him to take care
of her," said Christie, with quiver-
ing lip, " and I mean to trust
him; I know he can do it. and I
know he will, if it is the best
thing Perhaps the lady that you
want to get to, ib better now."
"Perhaps my staying here in the
inud all day helped to make her
better"
He said this with a very
sarcastic tone, but Christie who
was busy wiping her eyes, did
hot look at him just then, and
answered himgravtily; "Yes, sir,
perhaps so. Uo<l could make
even that help, and I cannot keep
from thinking that he has made it
all right. I have prayed about it
i good deal, and I feel just as I
dlways do, when things come
right. I wish you would pray,
di'ur sir."
In spite of himself, a tender
smile stole ever the sad face, and
he looked down on her. *' How
could my staying here possibly
help anybody?" he asked, but his
voice was more gentle.
"'Oh, I don't know how," said
Christie. "God does not tell his
".hows," you know ; ho just does
them."
" Well," he said, after another
thoughtful pause, " I'll toll you
one. thing, little woman, I am very
much obliged to you for trying to
help and comfort me. I shall not
(orget it. I want you to give me
your address, and if things have
all come out right, as you say, I
will write you a letter ; and if our
sticking in the mud for a dozen
hours can be found to have help-
ed any thing along, I will be sure
to tell you."
^/' Thank you, sir," said Christie.
"And will you pray about it ?"
" All, that I don't know. "
So after all, the " little woman"
turned avray sorrowfully. She
wanted to givo the invitation, but
she was not sure that she had.
While the old gentleman was
entertaining baby with his gold-
headed cane, she took out the two
seedcakes which she had carefully
wrapped by themselves in the bit
of towel and went over to the
young lady, who had her face
turned to the window, and had
not looked around for more than
an hour.
" Won't you please to eat
these ?" said Christie ; " you must
be very hungry. Mother made
them, and she is very neat and
particular."
The lady turned suddenly and,
behold, her eyes were wet with
tears ! " Tou are a good little
thing," she said hesitatingly. "I
don't think I am hungry. Tou
v^ould better eat them yourself"
"Oh, no," Christie answered
earnestly. " I ate bread and but-
ter. It wasn't much ?nr. I
would like to ha>re you know
Jeius Christ and go to heaven.
He can make you very happy."
It sounded almost rude to poor
Christie, now that she had said it,
but she did not know how else to
put the thought. Ever since her
talk with the old gentleman, she
had felt that she ought to invite
this lady ; and she had prayed
about her until she felt very sorry
for her.
" You are a strange child," said
the lady ; but her voice was not
hard any more, and she murmur-
ed under her breath, that she was
sure she needed happiness if any-
body did.
Christie slipped softly away
^/oaf of hrom bnad.
Tfm looXs lik^.h mt. ,
/I bandit end sj9ou.i
maks ajioljor our ita. .
n lint or hoo in ort.
JhakiS ourftafiot look
/<
unn
"J
loid /itlps fts To finish.
Our nui- f racking ^unnu'
anythintr, It came un very slowly,
and finally made a dead stop just
below them. The passengers
could be seen, getting out in the
mud and rain, and making all
haste to the train which was a few
.eet ahead of thom.
" Then the bridge wasn't
down?" said n passenger to a
brakesman.
" No, there was a broken rail
just this side of it, and the begin-
ning of a washout, that has kept
them back."
Just then the car door opened
with a sudden jerk. A shrill
voice was heard to say in tones
divided between a scream and a
groan, " Where is he?" and then.
" Oh, my darling, my darling !"
A DRAWING LK8S0N FOR THE VERY LITTLE ONES,
after that ; but the two seed cakes and Christie, who was standing
were eaten, every crumb. I with her back to the door, with
And now there began to be a the baby in her arms, felt herself
bustling of train men through the j almost tipped over, in the dash
cars ; ropes were pulled, and bells which a richly-dressed lady made
were rung, and a general air of
something about to tiappen stole
over things.
" Some train is coming or
going," said Wells. " I hear the
rumble in the distance."
Sure enough it drew nearer. .
" It's coming up behind us,"
said Wells. "Now I wonder if
the next thing on the programme
is to be smashed into by the after-
noon express ?"
And. said Christie :
" Oh, I wonder if baby's mother
can be on that train ?"
It was not trying to smash into
to get baby
No sooner did he have a glimpse
of her than the ungrateful fellow
set up shouts of delight, and was
in such a hurry to get away that
he scrambled wildly over Chris-
tie's shoulder, taking a pieceofher
delicate ruffle in his eager hand.
Oh dear me! such a time as
there was! I couldn't think of
trying io describe it to you. That
mother behaved herself in such a
manner as to nearly drive the
lookers-on frantic. She laughed,
and she cried, almost both at once
She hugged the baby until he
rebelled and scratched her for it.
She kissed him until ho cried.
Then she hugged Christie, and
kissed her, until her face was too
red to grow any redder. And all
the time she tried to teJl her wild
story, and to ask a dozen
questions.
I thought there would be a
despatch waiting for me at that
office, and I went to see ; and that
dreadful telegraph clerk kept me
waiting, and the first thing I knew
the train was gone! Oh, I thought I
should die ! I screamed and shout-
ed ; it seemed to me that the very
engine would be sorry for me and
stop ! Mamma's poor darling !
Did he cry dreadfully ? I saw
you, little girl, this morning, and
saw you look at baby with a
pleasant face, and I wondered if
you would try to take care of him.
O baby, baby! I'll never let you
ontof my armsagain fora minute!"
such a day as tnis has been !
Whereupon, baby at that
moment, as if to prove to his
mother how false and foolish was
her promise, gave a sudden
delighted spring and landed in
Christie's arms again, hiding his
pretty roguish head on her
shoulder.
So eager were the people over
all this, and such long stories had
they to tell the questioning
mother,that they forgot to take note
of the bustle going on in the train.
Suddenly Wells waked up to it.
"I really believe we are going
on again '" he said, as he watched
the rapid movementsof the brakes-
man. " Halloo, Brewster ! Do
you mean to take us into the city
in time for bed, alter all ?"
" Looks like it," said the brakes-
man, smiling good-naturedly.
" We had to wait for the mother,
you know ; now we've got her,
we think of going on as soon as
the up-traiu passes."
"The up-train ;<"' said Wells.
" Is it time for that ? When does
it come ?"
" It will be along in five
minutes ; we are going to switch
for her to pass, then on we go."
" The up-train !" echoed Chris-
tie, a sudden new dismayed
thought in her heart. Why, isn't
that the six o'clock at our
station?"
" The very same. This interest-
ing day is about done."
"Well, but— that's the train I
am to come home on, and father
will be at the depot to meet me.
" Why I've got to go home !"
"Oh, no I They will never
expect you to do such a thing as
that! Less than an hour now
will take us into the city. We'll
go kiting, when we do start. Of
course your people will expect
you to go on and make your visit.
Have the conductor trlegraph
your father that you are a .1 right ;
I'll see to it for you ; and if your
uncle is not at the depot I'll take
a carriage and go there with yon.
1 wouldn't give up my Christ-
mas in this fashion."
(7b be cnntinued.)
®H^
ked her for it.
til ho cried.
Christie, and
face was too
ler. And all
tell her wild
Ic a doaen
wonld be a
' me at that
see; and that
lerkkept me
thins I knew
)h,I thought I
ed and shout-
that the very
;y for me and
)or darling !
illy ? I saw
Horning, and
taby with a
wondered if
e care of him.
ever let you
fora minute!"
las been !
>y at that
i>rove to his
1 foolish was
I a sudden
id landed in
n, hiding his
!ad on her
people over
ig stories had
questioning
otto take note
I ill the train,
aked up to it.
we are going
18 he watched
oi the brakes-
ewster ! Do
into the city
all?"
d the brakes-
>d-naturedly,
the mother,
vo got her,
n as soon as
said Wells.
When does
ing in five
ig to switch
)n we go."
hoed Chris-
dismayed
Why, isn't
ck at our
?his interest-
the train I
, and father
to meet me.
iorae!"
will never
1 a thing as
hour now
city. We'll
io start. Of
will expect
e your visit,
trlegraph
■re a 1 right ;
and if your
pot I'll take
•e with you.
my Christ'
led.)
REPRINT^:D STORIES, FROM THE "NOHTIIKRN MESSENGER."
25
CHBISTIB'S CHRISTMAS.
BT PAtlllT.
OHAPTEn X-Omtinvd.
Christie thought a moment, a
the mud, a strong hand springing
her to the plaiform of imoiher
train, a kind voice saving, " Gouil-
by, liltio womikii ; I'll not forget !"
And Christie hud parted from nil
her friends and ncquaiiitnnct's
world of pprpii'xiiy on her face, ' whom she spcmt'd to have known
then presently h it face cleared: so long and well, and was in a
"No, I thuiik you, I must go strange car, surrounded by
' stninge and ralht>r
cross-looking pi'o-
pie, anl IVlt grown-
up and loiu'iy.
" Why, is it pos-
sible that she has
gone
L>xclaiint>d
ABBIE.
home ; mother said, *- be sure to
come back to-night." S>he didn't
say a word about what I was to
do if I didn't jret to uncle Daniel 'a
at all. She .just said :
" And, Christie, you be sure
and come home to-night, what-
ever happens. Don't you let them
coax you to stay ; tell them
mother expects you. So, you see,
I must go back on that very
train."
" Of course she must," said the
old gentleman, who had been
listening attentively. " &ho is
not the sort of n woman to keep
her mothor waiting and vvalchiiig,
while she goes and makes a
visit."
"Well, I declare!" grninbled
Wells, not coiiviiiceJ, and much
disgufted at the thought of part-
ing with his nurse, " that is the
queerest way toinuko a Christmas
visit that I fverh'Mirdof! Here's
the tram! You'll have to hurry,
if you're really going to be so
foolish 08 to <:o. That train
doesn't stop at places long enough
for a (l'IIow to wink."
"I'll help her oil," said ino pale
young nan, and be had his
nmbrelU raised bei'ureshe reached
the platform ;ber flowered satchel
waaou his arm,aiid there was noth-
ing for Christie to do but to smile
her good-bye to her friends in the
car, and step down into the night
and the darkness. A few steps in
the mother of the
baby, takinirin the
chunv'o of plan just
as the cur-doi>r
closed after Chris-
tie. " I thought
she was going to
the city. Whv, I
wanted to talk with
her, and take care
of her. Whatshull
I do? I must hit ve
the child's add less
who knows her?"
Then up started
the old gentleman :
"Bless my heart '
I have let her slip
away after all, with-
out getting her
address. That is
too bad."
" I can help you
about that," said
Wells, waking out
of his ill-humor to
be interested. "Her
name is Christie
Karl stayed at home to do the
clinres. Don't talk any now, my
girl, only wrap up close, and duck
yuur head down outof the driving
ruin, and we'll get home in no
time. Supper's waiting. A
regular Christmas 8uppi>r, too:
though it ain't much like your
dinner I s'pose,"
A silvery little laugh rang out
to him from liehind thi^ oldsh.iwl,
and u mutlk'd voice said she didn't
believe it was.
And they drove home with all
speed, the raiii coming thicker and
faster.
How the tea-kettli> sang on the
brijlit stove, and what a supper
that was! Stewed chicken, and
potatoes stewed in cream, ond hot
apple sauce are not bad to eat at
any time, if one is hungry. But
when one has bad only a small
slice ot "Sarah Ann's" bread for
dinner, niid has given away every
one uf her seed-cakes, I cannot be-
gin to tell von hnw good it tastes.
Then think oi the story that
there was to tell.
" I don't believe I can finish it
before next Christmas," declared
Christii>, laughing, and kissing
the baby for the tenth time.
" \ou see I have only told you
the liiudR of chapters, just as Karl
always reails the index of his
book ; but when I begin to put in
the little bits, it will takcdaysand
days. (>, father, what do you
think ! I saw the governor, and sat
with him. and talked with him!"
'• Well," said father,alter having
heard dashes at that wonderful
part of that wonderful story, " I
Tncker, and her | guess you saw lots of things to
father is Mr. Jonas Tucker, a day, and it's my opinion some
farmer who lives about two miles 'other folks saw some things too.
from Pi 'rpoint station, where 8t»e It is a great day, I think. •Im
took the train this morning. She iplad she was there to take care of
is a friend of mine," he added: that boy," — ond hero he put his
proudly. |arm around Karl, —" and that
I suppose Karl Tucker would baby, eh, mother ? ' and here he
have been very much amazed, kissed the baby,
could he have heard that. The I " And you never went to uncle
world had moved much laster that Daiiiel's at all!" said Mrs. Tucker,
day than Karl Tucker dreamed |\viih her elbow on the table, and
of Or Karl Tucker's father, (orj
the matter of that. He waited in:
the rain and the darkness, for his
little girl. He had spent a bu.xy
day about the tarm, and had heard
no news. The two men whom
he had met and talked wiih, a lew
minutes on hie way to the cars,
neither knew, nor kiiowing.would I
have cared, thiit there had been
confusion <>ii the rhilway all day.
So Mr. Tneker, us lie waited
anxiously on the inilk-|ilaiforin
lor the coining of the uptruin,
only knew that it was daik and
rainy, and that railway cars wiTe
"f-kiitish" things, and hoped that
"Daniel had put his little girl in
a ^ood seat, uud that she wasn't
scared."
"Htt!" he said \viih a relieved
siiih, as at last h" folded lier in
his arms and kissed her, "I'athoi's
got you again. It's l>een u long
day lor Chli^tlna8. Come in here
and let ine wrap you up. We'll
hurry, for ii's goiiisr to lain hard,
and yuur mother will be anxious.
her hand on the teapot handle.
"Well, I am tical !"
And so, iit last, Christie's Christ
mas was ended.
1
THE END.
HOW
ARR
BOYS' MARBLES
MADE.
Almost all the " marbles "
with which boys everywhere
amuse themselves in season and
nut of sea.soii,oii pavement and on
shady spots, are made at Ober-
stein, Germany. There are lar'.^e
agute quarries and mills in the
neigh))orhood, ami the refuse is
lurned to good account in |,rovid-
iiiu: the small stone ba Is for ex-
perls to "knuckle" with. The
stone is broken into small cubes
by blows • of a lisiht hammer.
These small blocks of stone are
thrown by the shovelful into tho
hopper of u small mill, formed of
a bedstone, having its eurlace
grooved with concentrated fur-
rows; above this is the "runner,"
which is of some hard wood, hav-
ing a level lace on its lower sur-
face. The upper block is made
to revolve Ta,iidly, water being
delivered upon the grooves of tho
bedstones where the marbles are
being rounded. It takes about
fifteen minutes to finish half a
bushel of good marbles, ready for
the boys' knuckles. One mill will
turn out lOK.iiiiU marbles per
week. The very hardest " crack-
ers," as the boys call them, aro
made by a slower process, some-
what analogous, however, to the
other, — Children's Friend.
The story of ".Tack the Giant-
Killer" was first printed in 1711,
but the children in Kngland and
Germany had heard it then for
hundreds of years. No one knows
how old it is, or where or how it
started. ".Tack and the Bean-
stalk" was first told in Iceland,
where it was believed to be true.
Ions, long ago.
•»-
o 1
Life.
1
2fi
THE WATEU WAIFS
A Story of Canal Barge
BY KMMA LGSIilK.
AuOur of " KlUrilU Hoim," tit.
Chaptkr I.— Bau'b Home.
" You'll be kind to her, Molly,
when I'm gone, and take care
o'poor Bab, won't yer ?" and (ho
glaring eyes of the dyin^ woman
were lifted anxiously to the girl
atanding beside her.
" Yea, yes, I'Ji look arter her,"
■aid tha girl, hastily brushing a
tear away, and glanoinG: at hor lit-
tle sister, who lay curled up at the
foot of her bed.
" Sho ain't like no other
boater I erer seed," said the
poor woman, fondly ; *' she
picks up things and talks
about 'em better nor a par-
son She's brought to my
mind thini^s as I'd learned
when I was a gal and hadn't
set eyes on a boat — l)out
Jesus and the poor woman
what was a sinner. Sho
warn't so bad as me, for she
warn't a boater; but little
Bab there, she's told me as
now J^sns'll forgive all sin,
and BO I ain't afraid toventure
it bad as 1 is, and if I could
take Bab wi' me, I dnnno as
I wouldn't be glad to go;
but Pm feard for the child,
Moll, for she'll never be no
?fOod lor a boater, and yer
ather knows that, and it jest
makes him mad and he'd like
to leave her behind at some
wharf; so yer'U have to look
sharp arter her when the
boat's a-leaving that wharf,
Molly."
" AH right ; don't yer be
afeard, mother I '11 see she
ain't left behind.and I'll keep
her pretty hair clean."
This promise seemed to
comfort the poor woman. She
closed her eyes, aud a look of
rest and peace stole over her
hard, careworn face. Molly,
thinking her mother wanted
to sleep, turned from the bed
and let down the little cup-
board door which serves for
a table in all barge cabins,
and began to get the tea
ready.
In a minute or two a rongh,
bnrly-looking man put his
head in at the door, and ask-
ed, with an oath, how much
longer she was going to be
getting tea ready.
*' Don't make such a row ; can't
yer see mother's asleep ?' ' said the
girl, in a suriy tone
" Well, she's got all the day to
sleep as well as the night, ain't
she?" said the man. "Give us the
tea;" and he took the basin from the
girl's hand and went out again,
grumbling as he went.
"Is mother asleep?" asked a
sweet voice in a gentle whisper, as
the man disappeared.
" Yes, Eab, she's fast asleep so
come and get your tea;" and
Molly lifted her sister from the
REPRINTKD STORIES. FROM THK "NORTHKRN MESSENGER."
bed to a box where she could
reach the table.
" If a stranger had been there
he would have been surprised,
perhaps, to see Bab lifted so care-
fullv by her sister, for she was
evidently about seven or eight
years old, and sitting, on the bed,
looked as well able to help her-
self as other children of her ago;
but now, as she was placed on the
box, it was evident that sho was
hopelessly lame — one leg looked
so small and shrunken that it
could scarcely have grown since
she was a baby.
I " Bah, I'll brush yer hair arter
i tea," said her sister. " Yer
can't ; but never mind, Bab, I've
promised I'll take care on yer, and
I will. I'll begin arter tea, and
let mother see. I'll wash yer face
and do yer hair, Bab."
Poor Bab had not had her face
and hands washed for two or three
days— not since her mother had
been obliged to lie in bed all
day ; for Molly rarely noticed
her little sister, unless it was to
beoanse of this ; and so it is not
surprising that she rather shrank
from being washed by Molly now.
" I can wait till mother gets bet-
ter," she said, trying to creep bad;
to her place at the foot of thi'
bed.
" No yer can't ; I want mother
to see as how I nan wash yer n .
well as she can."
" Oh, Molly, don't," whimpereil
it**
*' V her bi
needn't be afraid, I ain't a-going
to cut it off, as I said I would,
though what good such hair is to
a poor little boater, I dnnno. If
yer was a lady, now, yer pink and
white face and shiny yaller hair,
all twisting and curling like it
does, 'ud bejust the thing ; but it
ain't no good to us boaters."
Bab pushed back her wealth of
golden curls and sighed. " I wish
I'd got hair like yours, Molly," she
said ; " then, maybe, my legs 'nd
be like yours too, and I could run
on the towing-path like you and
Jack." " Ah ! it's a pity yer
utter some cruel or jealous words ; the child, as her sister pulled he
and 80 the child was almost as back. But it was of little us<'
alarmed as she was surprised resisting. Molly had made n;'
when Molly proposed to wash her her mind to wash her face ami
face, for washing was a luxury | comb out the tangled, curly hair,
not often indulged in among the and she scooped up some water
boaters. It was considered a I from the canal, and was rubbin^r
away at the dirty little hands
before Bab had time to say
any more.
The child cried a little
nnderthe combing operation,
for Molly was not very gentle,
and quite unused to such a
task. She combed her own
hair about once or twice n
week, but she had never
done Bab's before, and gentle-
ness was something quite be-
yond Molly's comprehension
at present. She rather look-
ed down upon it as a weak-
ness, especially in boater
girls, who had to hold their
own oji the towing-path and
at the wharfiUnless they were
ready to be put upon by
everybody else, like \iQot lit-
tle Bab was.
Bab winced, and the tears
silently ran down hercheekr
after one of Molly's vigorous
pulls at her hair ; but she
would not cry out, for fear ol
disturbing her mother who
still seemed to bo in a pro-
found sleep.
When the washing and
combing wore done, Molly
lifted the child on the bed
again, where she could look
out of the tiny window on to
the black canal or the towing-
pnth, and having done what
sho could to make the dirty,
stuiTy little cabin tidy, slie
went outside to see when
they were likely to tie up for
the night. This would give
her aud Jack the only chance
they ever had of " a little
fun,'' as they called it. Very
often, however, they were so
tired with their long day's
tramp on the towing-path,
that they only cared to lie
down and go to sleep. But
for a wonder, they were not so
tired to-day, and so, when their
father had gone, as he usually did,
to spend his evening at one of the
low beer-shops near the bank,
Molly and Jack, with two or three
other girls and boys from
neighboring barges, made up their
minds to have some fun before
going to bed. It was a bright
moonlight night. What with
play ing.quarrelling,' and fighting,
the time passed quickly enough,
and Molly never thought of either
Bab or her mother, until, hearing
a clock strike ten, sho called to
THE CHILD CRIKD A LITTLE UNDER THK COMBING OPERATION."
waste of time, as children always
made themselves dirty again.
Molly had often heard this remark
from her mother, until Bab came
with her sweet, fair face and love-
ly, golden hair, which seemed to
awaken her mother's love for
cleanliness and a passion of
jealousy in Molly. "Why should
this helpless little sister," she ask-
ed, " be washed and combed, and
kept clean, and made altogether
so nnlike her filthy surround-
ings."
Many a sly slap and pinch had
Bab received from her elder sister
Cl^-
w\
^4Sl
^H8
1 to it is not
rather «hrani<
)y Molly now.
her gota but-
to croop bad;
I foot of the
want mother
I vvaah yor a .
," whirapert'il
er pnllcd ho-
of little uii<
ad made u;>
ler face an<I
d, cnrly hair.
■ Bomo water
was rubbing.'
ty little hand:,
time to say
ried a little
ng operation,
»t very gentle,
id to such a
jed her own
) or twice a
) had never
•e, and gentle-
ling quite be-
impreliension
B rather look-
t as a weak-
Y in boater
to hold their
rini;-path and
ess they were
lut upon by
like iKtor lit-
and the tears
tn hercheekr
lly's vigorous
air ; but she
it, for fear ol
mother who
be in a pro-
ashing and
done, Molly
on the bed
could look
vindow on to
r the towing-
gdone what
ke the dirty,
in tidy, she
) see when
to tie up for
would give
only chance
of " a little
ed it. Very
they were so
long day's
towing-path,
cared to lie
sleep. But
were not so
when their
usually did,
at one of the
' the bank,
two or three
boys from
lade up their
inn before
a bright
What with
ind fightinff,
kly enough,
ght of either
ntil, hearing
10 called to
B
as
r
I' her b
u
brother, saying she was going
in now, ami he had bettor do the
same; and then she jumped on
board the barge, and ran into the
little cabin to get a light before
her father came home.
In a minute or two she was at
the side of the barge again, calling
" .Tack ! Jack I" in a tone of snp-
pressed terror. When her brother
came, she clutched him by the
shoulder, and almost dragged him
to the cabin-door.
" What's the row now ?" asked
the boy, trying to shake off his
sister's hand.
" I want yer to come and look
at mother. Jack," whispered
Molly, with a shiver of
fear.
" What's the good ? I can't
do nothing," said the boy ;
and he shook himself free of
Molly's detaining hold, and
sat down on the steps, while
Molly peered fearfully into
the cabin.
" I do b'lieve she's dead,
Jack," she said, in a whisper ;
" and there's Bab laying there
holding her hand as though
she was asleep."
The child seemed to awake
at this moment, and seeing
her sister at the door, she
said, " Oh, Molly, do come
and make mother warm : she
is so cold."
" Get away from her, Bab,
get away ; don't yer know
she's dead ?" said Molly, but
without venturing to go near
the bed herself.
But instead of moving
away, poor little Bab threw
herself, with a passionate
cr V, on to her mother's breast,
sobbing, " She ain't dead, I
know she ain't ; she spoke to
mo 'fore she went to sleep ;
she telled me God 'ud take
care on me somehow,
und not let me be a boater
alius."
" Oh dear, Jack, what shall
we do y Qo and tiad father,
or letch somebody here," said
Molly, in still greater terror,
as she saw poor little Bab
throw her arms round her
mother's neck.
.Tack was only too glad to
make his escape, and soon ran
to one of the other barges,
and brought back a woman,
who went in and lifted poor
Bab from the bed, and
put her on the steps near
Molly.
" Don't cry, little 'an," she said,
in a rough but kindly voice ; "yer
liime, I see, but somebody' ull take
care on yer, never fear."
" I ain't afeard ; I only want
moth^c," sobbed the poor child.
" Why, don't yer know she's
dead?" suappedMolly,impatiently.
6he was crying, too, but not with
such iiitterness of grief as her lit-
tle lame sister.
" Ter jest take her aboard our
boat for to-night, and go and fetch
yer father, for I dunno what to
do. Did yer mother have a
REPRINTKl) STORII-X FROM j;ilE
see her 7" asked the
doctor to
woman.
Molly opened her eyes at the
question. " Oh no," she said ;
" I used to fetch her stnlf for her
couirh sometimes, when father
could spare the money, I got
some ycHterday, and she ain't
took morn'n half on it ; so 'tain't
for want of physic she died."
"Well, yer'd better fetch yer
father, for a doctor'U have to be
got now," said the woman ; and
Jack ran olFto the beer-shop at
once.
In a few minutes the man came
lounging down to the boat.
" What's this yer saying 'bout a
— «-
NORTHKUN MKSSKNtiER." ^27_
poor thing." " Yss, yes , I kno>*
shti's gone to God, ami f\w'n tell-
ing Him about me, niid how I
ain'tiitto be a boater, and lie's
going to takecaru o'me as well as
mother,"
" Bless the little 'un, how she
do talk !" said the woman, glanc-
ing at Molly. " Eh, sliu's a rum
'un — she alius was, ' said Molly,
" But yur can't go in there now,
yer know, Bab," she added.
" But I must, I muHt ; God is
a-going to take ore o'me as well
as mother, and I must be there
ready, don't yer know. '
" Be where ?" asked Molly,
" In there, on mother's bed ;
she ha' said she was a going to
die, and not make all this bother
about it ? "
He forgot that he had scarcely
done more than put his head into
the cabin to ask for his meals since
the poor woman had been taken
worse, for fear she should make
any complaint, or ask for a doctor;
but his neighbor seemed to under-
stund all about it as well as though
she had lived with them, and told
him so in no very choice lan-
guage.
It came to high words between
them at last, and might have
resulted in a fight, despite the
presence of the dead, had not one
DK. DODDRIDGE, UIS HOTBEB, AND THE DUTCH TILEa.
she's telling God about me
now, I know, and He'll, may-
be, send for me to-night, nnd
if I ain't there ready, mother
wouldn't like it."
Molly and the woman look-
ed at each other, and then
at Bab. " Ifou are strange,"
said Molly. " I don't think
I shall ever undor-
stand you, Bab."
" I'd lot her go and sit on
the bed, if she likes," said the
woman ; " it can't hurt, yer
know ; it's jett consumption
the poor thing had, I should
say, and that ain't like fever
— 'tain't ketching."
" Will yer go then, Bab ?"
asked Molly.
" Oh yes, yes ; do take me
to mother. I won't cry and
make a noise if yer'll let nie
sit aside o' mother, " sobbed
the child.
" I'd let her go, thnuirh
she'd bo a deal better lust
asleep with my young
'uns."
" Oh no ; I mustn't go to
sleep," said Bab. " ! must
keep awake till mother's
talked to God, and he sends
forme ;" and once more the
begged her sister to tuke her
into the cubin.
" Oh, I can't go in there,"
said Molly.
" Here, I'll take her in,"
said the woman ; and she
carried Bab into the cabin
and seated her on the bod,
whore she could hold her
mother's hand and see her
face, for this was what she
wanted.
{To be continued.)
he asked the woman,
stood near the cabin-
doctor ?"
who still
door.
" Why, yer ought ter had a
doctor to the poor thing afore she
died," said the woman.
" Who was to know she was
a-going to die ?" said the man,
glancing at the bed, and speaking
iji an injured tone.
" Well, yer'll have to go and get
one now, for there's the baryin' to
be thought about."
The man scratched his head,
" It's jest like her," he said, in a
grumbling tone ; " why couldn't
of the woman's children run up
to tell her mother that Bab was
crying so much they could do
nothing with her.
" Go and fetdi her here, Moll,
while 1 go and look tor a doctor, '
said the man, glad of the interrup-
tion to get away. Molly went and
fetched her little ^sister, and sat
down on the cabin steps with her
in her arms.
But this did not satisfy Bab.
" Take me in to mother," sne sob-
bed; "she wants me. I know."
" No, n«, little 'un ; yer mother! instruction he frequently recnm-
don't wanfyer now ; she's dead, | mended to parents.
PICTURE LESSONS.
" I have heard Dr. Doddrige
relate," says Mr. Job Or*on, his
biographer, " that his mother
taught him the history of the Old
and New Testaments by the
assistance of some Dutch tiles in
the chimney in the room where
they commonly sat ; and her
wise and pious remarks upon
the means, by God's blessing, of
making many good impressions
npon his heart which never wore
out, and therefore this method of
r
» —
28
THE
REPIUNTKI) STOKIKS. FROM TI?K "NOUTIIKRN MKaSKNO
\7ATBR WAIP8:
A Story of Canal Barge Life.
BY KM MA btBI.IK.
AuUxw »/ " KlUnlU llmm," tU.
ClurTBR l—Cimltnutft.
What thonhild oxppctvd wonld
tako plaro, thev di<l not aak, and
if they had Bab conld nnt have
told them ; bat aha waa
>ako care of Rah, and havhiff done
thia, ihn had dontt all that waa
ri>(|iiired nf hor, ahn thoiiKht, and
a<t llnh waa left to indulge ht<r
f^riefandhi'rtnaainf^HUiidiatnrbpd.
8hi« would nit for hoiira oii tho bed
at iho lilllH ('iihiii window, lookinff
out at the ala^firiah black wiiterof
Ihecanal wilhont iip<*akiii|^ a word
to aak God to take care on rae, and
conran He would lond that niffht,
and I oui^ht tor kept awake to ho
ready ; but I wtMit to ileep, anil
CO I'vti milled my rhanco;" and
|ioor liiib'i temra brokii out afreih
aa ahu cunnludt-d.
" Well, your'ro a mm 'un, Bab.
la thia what yor'vo bocii a-fri-ttincf
ovt-n when Molly wjb in th.< cabin, ^nd atowiajf about all Ihia limo Y"
rmikinif or waahin^ up the tin said Molly, in a tono o( wondor.
poll and baaina that formed their I Rab turned h»>r tfurful blue
content, now iho waa near her
mother Bifain; and Hnilinjf that 'only tea lervice. leyea full npou her iiiiler. "I've
ihe had left otr crying, Molly woi But one day, abouC a month after' been a-waiting," ihe laid i "I
latiifled. 'her molher'a death, Hab laid! Ihoufrhl miiybu He'd leiid agin
8he waa itill keeping her lilent, I* Did I 'leep very long that night 'if I joat itopped here and wait-
•olitary watch, when her father .mother died, Moll y"
returned with tho doctor. She
would have hidden heraelf
ander the bedclothea ifahe
could when ihe heard them
coming, for ahe waa afraid
her father would drag her
away, aa ho would have
done but for the appealing
gnzDwith which Bah looked
at tho doctor, and the
agonising tone in which she
•aid, " Do let mo itay aaide
o* mother a bit longer
Ood'i a-going to take care
o' mo as well as mother,
•nd Ho won't be long
now"
" Poor little girl, you
•hall stay beiido mother if
Ton like," said tho kind-
nearted doctor, looking
tenderly at Bab's tear-stain-
ed face and swollen blue
eyes. •' Were yon here
with mother when she
died?" he asked ; for one
glanco at the ashy-grey face
on the bed told him plainly
enough that the woman had
been dead some hours, al-
though the man, on his way
to the boat, had assured him
that she was " only just took
bad."
But Bab seemed to know
nothing of when her mother
had died ; sho only knew
that she had gone to ask
God to take care of her, be-
cause she was no good for
a boater. And so after a
few minutes her father and
the doctor went away, and
Bub was left to watch until
sleep overcame the tired
blue eyes, and sho slipped
down across her mother's
feet and slept until the
morning.
Chaptkb II.— Molly.
Tho poor boatwoman's funeral
was soon over, and the barge went
on its way as usual. Molly took
her mother's place as well as she
was able and the poor woman
was soon forgotten by all but poor
little Bab,and for her time seemed
to brmg no consolation, but as the
days and weeks went on her grief
seemed to increase. Atfirst Molly
took little notice of the child
beyond washing her face onco a
day, and combing and curling her
hair occasionally. This was what
she htMl understood her mother to
' mean when she asked her to
Why, yer slept till themorin,'
ed.
Molly scratched her tangled
KR."
and letrh her away. Soineh'tw
•he conld not nller the roiii;!)
wordi, " Don't he a fool. Bah,
although they were upon net
lips; she only said,' Never iniml,
Bab ; I'll take earxoii yer for a bit,
and maybe 11 wehaslontayn!! }<un
day at the wharf, I'll liiko yer
ashore to hear some preaeliingand
singing, liko mother did some-
times."
Bab's eyes brightened at lienr-
inir this, and she reailily ngrei'd
to let Molly set her onlnitle on the
cabin steps. But tho light of her
father's Hcowlinuf lace as he sat
smoking close to the tiller, made
poor Bab shiver with undelined
fear, and she cluic^h-
ed Molly's hand and
whispered, " Yer'll take
care on ino, Moll, tlionuh I
ain't no good lor a boater V"
" Yes, yes ; don't yer be
afeard ; I'll lake good cure
on yer,"said Molly, uttering
an oath to make her promise
more assuring.
But BttI) whispered,
' Don't swear, Molly ; God
don't liko us to swear, the
man says, and I told mother
I wouldn't."
Molly lauffhed. " What
next, I wonuer !" sho said;
" Why I shouldn't bo much
of a boater if I didn't swear
as good as father hissell."
Molly
PUT IIEK AKM8 BOUND BAB PUOTECTINOLY
said her sister, in-
I s'pose,"
differently.
Bab sighed. " I didn't mean
to go to sleep that night, Molly,"
she said.
" Why, it wor tho best thing
ver could do," said practical
Molly.
But the child shook her head.
" No it warn't," she said ; " I jest
missed my ch nee that night, and
it won't come again, maybe."
" Missed yer chance '{ What
do yer mean ?' asked hor sister.
" Don't yer know what I told
yer, Moll 1 Mother was a-going
head in perplexity. Ignorant as
she was in snch matters, she was
sure that Bab had made a mistake
in supposing that God was going
to send a messenger to carry her
off bodily ; but she knew so little
abontreligion — so rarely heard the
name of God even, except when
her father was swearing — that she
knew not how to tell Bab sho was
in error ; yet her heart was touch-
ed with pity for the poor helpless
child, who sat in the misorable
cabin day after day patiently
waiting without a murmur for
some nnknown messenger to come
'But Hod don't liko
h He
Bab, in a
> yer
to swear, thoug:h He likes
boaters," said
serious lone.
"Oh, boaters ain't got no
time to think about C?od or
what Ho likes ; why, they
ain't got time to tie up of a
Sunday, 'ceptwhen they're
loading up and can't cret
away from tho wharf. No,
Bab, them thini;s ain't for
boaters," conclu<led Molly.
" But tho man said they
was, Moll — the man at tho
wharf, yer know,
they talked about .leHUs and
the woman that was a
sinner, wot mother liked to
hear about. She said ns
she knowed it war true,
'cos she'd heerd about it,
when she wor a gal, and she
often talked to me itbont it,
and I told her all I could
'member o' what I'd heerd
about .Tesus loving poor
koaters, and how He wanted
'em to do the right square
things, and not swear, nor
drink, nor kick the donkeys."
■'Oh, bother tho don
keys," said Molly ; " they can look
arter themselves ; they're
agrawatin' enough. Yer don't
mean to tell me as God looks arter
donkeys ?"
But Bab could only shako her
head. " I dunno", she said, " I
want to know a bit more; tho man
said God 'ud take care on us, and
He's took care o' mother, but why
won't Ho ha' me ? I ain't no good
for a boater."
" Yer right enough there ; yer
ain't no good for nuffin', as I can
■ee, ' ini
and look
lather
iHH)r litl
lotk lit
close di
whliperi
wiiy, Ml
lit all II
resolved
put he
l>i'it|ictin
kii'iiv nu
•I I" can
" 1 km:
a boater,'
the Booni
better,
aboard tl:
" Oil,
let 'em m
noiiHi-nse
drew thi
oioser to
' It's
that 'ere
can't afl'ii
less mou
help woi
go-"
" Whni
go /" dt'u
" Aiiyv
o' places,
where sh
much wl
her up I
hair and '
some fin' f
temptuou
How I
having tl
that made
other boat
whispered
" No I
angrily, ai
toherfathi
wont on, '
this boat G
me to lool^
Yer can't I
I likes Bal
us long as
mako no r
saying th
into the ce
the bed in
near tho '
felt, and d
protect he
it would b
of sight as
sight of t
hud alway
and often ]
and it won
his anger,
in one of t
of temper,
board. H
it often em
Bab, yer ai
o' father, t
bit; yer shi
and I'll loo
shall have
keep the c
I've got m
I often geti
of her asse
tie bottle
and poure
pot, and gi
y. Somehow
ir tlio roiii/ii
ik tool, lUh,
upon her
Nt'VtT miriil,
1 ynr for iiltit,
ontayall Muii
I'll lako yt<r
|)reiinliiiigiiii(l
ir dill iioinit-
:anp(l At liiMir-
*n<lily nj^n'rd
>lllKi<l)t oil lll(>
« »iH;lit of li(>r
L'o UK ho snt
I tillor, in»(li>
til un(l<>lliu>(l
Hho cluli'h-
hikiid luid
YiT'll take
nil, tlionifh I
lor rtboiiti'ry"
don't yiT l)i>
iko ffood ciirt'
lolly, utttTJiifif
lior promiio
whisprtTi'd,
, Molly ; Ood
to Bwenr, th«
1 told mother
ied. " What
T !" nho Bdid;
Idn'tho much
' didn't swonr
Iher hisstdl."
lon't like yer
ngh Ho likes
I Bab, in a
s ain't sot no
dbont clod or
s ; why, they
to tie up of a
hen they're
d can't nret
wharf. No,
us ain't for
uded Molly.
an faid they
innn nt the
k n o w,
JiU .leHUsand
hat waH a
her liked to
i!^hc snid as
t war true,
rd about it,
gal, and she
ine iibout it,
all I could
at I'd heerd
oving poor
IV He wanted
right square
t swear, nor
onkeys."
the don
hey can look
; they're
Yer don't
d looks arter
shako her
he said, " I
ore; the man
B on us, and
ler, but why
in't no good
there ; yer
in', as I can
RKPRINTKI) SroUIKS, KIIOM TIIK "NOKTHKllN MK.SSKN(;KR.'
see," inid a ron^fh, surly voicn ;
and loukinif round, Molly saw h«r
liilhttr Hlandiu:^ dose by. liut
iMHir litllit Hub WHH frii(hliined to
[o.)k at her lather ; she cowered
close down to he(. sister, and
whispered, " 'I'aki) me out o' the
way, Moll." Hut Molly was not
at all al'niid ol her lather, and
resolved lo let him see it She
put her arms round lt,ih
1>i'>M>ctinirly. undsaid, " Yer don't
.ii'>iv nuliin' about Uuh and what
sli" (.an do.
" i know she ain't no ijood for
a boater," growled the man, " anil
ihi) sooner she takes lierHelfoli'the
butter, for no body wants her
aboard this barge now."
" Oil, don't they though ; I'd
let 'etn Keo if anybody comes any
noiiHense wi' Hab ;" and Molly
drew the poor frightened child
closer to her as she spoke.
" It's no good coming any o'
that 'ere nonsense wi' me, 'cos I
can't ali'ord it. I can't fill use-
less months; and them an can't
help work this boat has got to
go"
" Whore do yer wan't her to
go i'" demanded Molly.
" Anywhere ; she's got a pick
o' places, and she can go ashore
where she likes ; it don't matter
much where ; somebody'll pick
her up afore long, Her yaller
hair and white face ought to do
someKn' for her," he added con-
temptuously.
How Bab hated herself fur
having this bright golden hair,
that made hor look so unlike all
other boaters • " Cut it off," she
whispered, clutching at her curls,
" No I won't," said Molly
angrily, and turiMnp: a defiant face
toiler father. "Now look here," she
wont on, " as long as I'm aboard
this boat Bab'll stop. Mother told
mo to look arter her, and I will.
Yer can't do without mo now, and
I likes Bab.andshe'll stop hero jest
as long as I do, so yer needn't
make no more row about it, and
saying this, Molly carried her
into the cabin, and seated her on
the bod in her accustomed place
near the window. Brave as she
felt, and determined as she was to
protect her little sister, she knew
it would be best to keep her out
of sight as far as she could, for the
sight of this " useless mouth"
had always annoyed her father,
and often put him into a passion ;
and it would be best not to rouse
his anger, she knew, for he might,
in one of these violent outbursts
of temper, throw the child over-
board. He had threatened to do
it often enough. " Now look here,
Bab, ver ain't no call to be afraid
o' father, though he may swear a
bit; yer shall jest keep outo' sight,
and I'll look arter the rest, and yer
shall have a drop o' something to
keep the damp off yer stomach.
I've got mother's bottle now, and
I often gets a drop ;" and, in proof
of her assertion, Molly took a lit-
tle bottle from its hiding-place,
and poured some gin into a tin
pot, and gave it to Bab.
But the rhild shook her head.
" No, no, Molly, I ean't ; mother
told me mil Id toueh the drink
agin, 'cos thiit 'ud made her wus
than the woman whit was a sin-
ner, and she said, Moll, I wor to yer ashore, if yor like, to hear the
ax ver to give it up too." preaching, if there it any."
liut Molly looked half offended ' " Uh, Molly, will yer really!"
" Who could live in this place exclaimed liai) ; and a faint color
without a drop o' something to stole into her pallid cheeks at the
keep the damp out 'o yer sto- thought of hearing more about
maoh ?" ^hl• sitiil, irlancing at the ,Ichuh, the friend of boaters and the
rei'kiiig floor of the cabin, where woman who was a sinner,
the black mud came oozing Having hettled her sister on her
Ihrouirh lliK crai'ks and joints; ami grassy seal, Molly went olf in
she drank olf the gin herself, and . seaiuh of a little amusement on
liid the liollle agiiiii. Molly was j her own account; but she kept her
why, yer like a hit of another
world to me, and I want yer to
talk to me like yer did lo mother
Jack says we're sure lo tie up at
the wharf a Sunday, and I'lluke
lice
hen
Molly, will
Hal) ; and a
only thirteen, but she felt herself
a woman now. She had been
used to stealing sip:< from hi>r
mother'sbottlo aslong as she could
remember, mi that it was not sur-
prising that she should take po.s-
session of the bottle, and get it
replenished whenever sht> could
eye on Itab.tosee that the boys and
girls from the other barges did not
lease hur, for, as shu whispered to
herself again, Bab wot not like
other boaters.
Ui'ten and often she had used
these words as u reproach or dis-
paragement, but now Ihey were
abstract a few pence from the beginninglonieansomethingquite
money entrusted to her to buy
bread and groceiies with.
Bab had seen her sister more
than onco overcome by hor
frequent sips of gin, but she had
felt afraid to say a word about it
now ; and glancing at her sister's
angry face as she put the bottle
away, she was shivering with fear
lest Molly should go and tell her
father ho might do ns he liked
about putting her ashore.
In this, however, she did her
sister injustice. Molly was certain-
ly offended, but she would have
protected her little sister against
anybody now, and was resolved
to do what she conld to make her
life pleasant, although she had
refused many a boater's great
luxury and only consolation — a
drop of gin.
That evening, after the barge
was tied up for the night, and her
father had gonu to the public-
house, Molly came to the cabin,
and said, •' Now, Bab, I'll take yer
out a bit. Father's gone, and
Jack too, and there's a nice piece
o' grass near the towing-path, and
yer can sit there and look about
yer for a time."
Of coarse Bab was willing to
go. She had not been further
than the cabin steps for weeks
now, and to sit on the gross was
a treat indeed. As Molly carried
her on shore, the child put her
arms round her sister's neck, and
whispered, "Won't yer let me love
yer, Molly ?"
" 'Deed Bab, you are a rum
'un," said Molly, kissing her little
sister as though she was half
ashamed of doing it; "you ain't
no boater, sure enough," she
added, with a short laugh.
" But yer'Il love me, Molly,
won't yer, though I ain't no
boater ?" whispered Bab.
" Why, yer makes me, Bab ; I
can't help it ; and somehow I'm
glad now yer ain't like other
boaters."
' No, I ain't no good," sighed
poor Bab,glancingatherBhranken
little legs.
" Oh, but yer are, though, Bab ;
different to Molly. Babwa-<come-
thing more choice and |.' i'ms
than an ordinary bo.itergir hI
be. Molly did not undc '
her, but she was growing ,i.
dear to her, and her g>~' I-
patient, lovwif^ words and
were conquering thejealouny and
dislike that Molly had so long felt
towards her little sister. She was
ready to do battle for her now
against anybody and everybody,
and when she saw some of the
children from the other barges pull-
ing Bab's curls and teasing her,she
swooped down upon them in a
manner they were not likely to
forget for some time,
" Well, she ain't no boater," said
one who had pulled at Bab's
bair.
" No ; she's a deal better nor
any of you boaters," said Molly ;
" and if I ketch yer anigh her
agin, I'll pitch yer all inter the
cut ;" saying which, Molly drove
her sister's tormentors to a dis-
tance, and Bab felt no small pride
in her protector's prowess. Of
course Molly did not really mean
that she iris better than a boater,
thought liih : she had only said
that to tease the other girls ; but
still it pleased Bab to think that
her sister cared so much for her.
Molly privately determined that
Sunday should oe spent at the
wharf if she conld possibly manage
it, and she talked to Jack about
this, promising to get a " jolly
dinner," for Sunday if he would
hurry ttfe donkeys along, so that
they reached the wharf on Satur-
day night. Jack readily promised
to dothis,for a whole day to lounge
about the other wharf, or play
pitch and toss with the other boys,
was always pleasant io him ; and
so, by cruelly using the stick a
little more frequently to the over-
worked donkeys the journey was
accomplished in tima and they
tied up at the wharf on Saturday
night, to Bab's great delight.
" Now yer can go and near the
S reaching and singing to-morrer,
ab," said Molly. "I'll get up
20 T
n
yer hair and lake yer ashore all
day, ami iiiavb>t tlicre'llbe two lota
o' singing for yer"
" Oh, ain't It nice !' laid Dab.
" Yer'Il come too, won't yer,
Moll 7"
" Well, I dunno bout that.
Preaching ami Miiigiiig ain't much
ill my way , but yoii likes it, and
yor shall have it if yer can gel it,
and yer ctii tell mo bout it after-
warils, like yer did mother. I
hope it's a-uoing to lie fine," added
Molly, looking anxiously out at
the evening sky, where the clouds
seemed to be gathering
But Sun<lay nioriiing dawned
bright ami warm, although it was
late in the autumn, and before the
bells ill the dislant clinri^hes be-
gan to ring for innriiiiig service,
Molly had witshed and dressed
her sister and carried her ashore
" There ain't nobody come yet ;
but you slop hero a bit, and I'll
comeback presently and take yer
to the preaching place if it ain't
here, though there can't bo a bet-
ter place nor this," said Molly, as
she seated her sinter in n comt'ort-
ablo corner between two logs.
" Oh, they're most sure to come
here," said Bab looking at the pile
of logs ; " there couldn't be no bet-
tor place nor this for tho boaters
to sit down."
" Yes they're most sure to come
here," said Molly, looking round
There wore a few children at
Clay on a heap of rubbish clos*
y, and she was wondering
whether they would interfere
with her sinter ns soon as she had
gone. " Look here, Bab," she said,
picking up n stick that lay near
and handing ii to her sister, "if
any o' them come anigh yer, you
jest hit out right and lett ns hard
as ever yer can. Never mind who
you hurt, or how. much yer hurts
em.
(To be cimlinuetl.)
The Rules ok Elizabeth
Fry.— The iollowiiig rules for the
guidance of life are by the cele-
brated Mrs. Fry: 1. Kover lose
any time. I do not think that lost
which is spent in amu'^emant or
recreation every day, but always
be in the habit of being employ-
ed. 2. Never err the least in
truth. 3. Never say on ill thing
of a person when thou canst say
a good *hing of him. Not only
speak charitably, but feel so. 4.
Never be irritable or unkind to
anybody. 5. Never indulge thy-
self in luxuries that are not neces-
sary. 6. Do all things with con-
sideration, and when thy path to
act right is most dilHcult, put con-
fidence in that power alone which
is able to assist theci; and exert
thine own powers to far as they
go-
We should be as careful of onr
words as of onr actions, and as far
from speaking ill as from doing
ill — Cicero.
A Passionate reproof is like a
medicine given scalding hot ; the
early and wash yer face and comb patient cannot take U.
«H*
;;
80
THB
A Story
REPRTNTKO STORIES. FROM THE
-«»
WATER WAIFS:
of Canal Barge Life.
BY BMMA I.ESUK.
Aulkor of " £«<rilu Hmm," tc.
Chapter III.
suxdaY at thk whark.
Bab looked up at her sitter for
a minute, and then at the stick.
At last she said, " But, ulolly, yer
forgets IVe come to hear 'bont
Jesus, and the man said afore as
Jesus didn't like to see the don-
keys beat."
"Nobody asked ver to bent the
donkeys," said Molly impatiently.
"No; but little boaters
is better nor donkeys," said
Bab. "Jeans lores boat-
ers, and p'r'aps they won't
touch me;" and she put
the stick aside.
Molly looked at her for
a minute, half-puzzled,half-
displeased. "'Tis easy to
see yer no boater," she said
as she walked away.
Molly went back to
the barge, thinking of
what Bah said, and
wondering more than ever
where and how the child
could have learned such
strange things, and hoping
very much that her desire
to hear more would be
gratified to.day,for it might
be weeks before they tied
up on Sunday again. Molly
even half resolved to go
her8(*lfand hearsomething
of what was said if there
was service in the after-
noon. But she could not
leave Bab long without
going back to see if the
preaching had begun, and
whether her sister was in
a good place to hear and
see all that was going on,
or that the other children
from the neighboring
barges were not molesting
her.
She found Bab sitting
where she had left her,
quite alone, watching the
other children at play ; but
no one had come to preach
or sing yet.
"Never mind, Bab;
they'll come presently,"
snid Molly, cheerfully; "I
s'pose they're sure to come,
ain't they ?" she added.
" I dunno. They did
mind to try and please them, that
she might take care of Bab with-
out interference.
When dinner wau nearly ready,
she went to fetch her little sister,
that she might install her in her
usual corner out of sight, so that
her father might not be too for-
cibly reminded oi this " useless
mouth " at dinner-time, when he
and Jack would enjoy theiri> on
the cabin steps.
But when she reached Bab this
lime, she saw that the child had
been crying. " What's a matter.
Bah ?" she asked, quickly. " Are
thorn boaters been at yer?" and
Molly seized the stick that lay
NORTHERN MESSENGER."
was carried back to her cosy seat
on the logs ; and Molly herself sat
down to watch and wait for
somebody to come and teach Bab
something about God. and
whether He would tak>> care of
her as she supposed. But the
afternoon passed, and no one came
except the men and women from
the boats, and they sat or lounged
upon the logs smoking, gossiping,
or quarrelling, until at last Molly
carried Bab tack, feeling as dis-
appointed as the child herself.
It ivas evening now, and her
father would want his tea; so
MoUv got it as quickly as she
could, promising to run ashore
and quarrel, and to hurl oaths at
each otner
BAB sitting on THB LOOS WAITINU FOR MOLLY.
that time, /er know, but this
ain't the same wharf. Ain't there
a lot o" bargaa here, Moll, and a
lot o' froung 'uns too?" added
Bab.
" Tea, it's a big wharf, and I've
heerd there's often forty or Kfty
lie up here, loading or unloading.
Oh yes, Bab, there's sure tu be
preaching here; so mind yer pick
up a bit to tell me, 'cos I'm going
to cook the dinner now;" ana
Mollv ran back to the barge ; for
she knew her father and Jack
would eipeot a good dinner to-
day, and she hod made up her
come I near, and prepai'ed to make a de-
i
scene upon the groups of dirty,
hall-naked children play close by.
" No, no, Molly, they ain't done
nothingto hurtrae: they only says
there ain't no singing nor nothing
here ; and it miide mo cry a bit."
" Well, yer shouldn't cry, then,"
said Molly, taking her up in her
arms and turning towards the
barge; "they dunno nothing 'bout
such things, how should they ?
I'll bring yer back this arternoon,
and yer'll see if the man don't
come."
Molly was as good as her word
as soon as it was over, and see if
there was anybody there likely to
help Bab. Molly herself fi>lt
angry against some one, although
she could not tell who was to
blame; but surely somebody who
knew about these things might
come and speak a few words to
poor boaters who hao no other
means of learning but what they
could pick up on a Sunday when
they happened to tie up at a
wharf She then looked round
at the noisy groups of men, women,
and childfnn, who found nothing
else to do this fine Sunday even
As soon as dinner was over, Bab ing but to smoke and gossip,iight
Itdid notshock Molly ,she was too
much accustomed to such scencH,
but she was vexed that Bab should
be so disappointed, and in her dis-
content she wandered away from
the groups of noisy people to the
other end of the wharf, where a
high, open fence only separated it
from the street. Peering through
these railings, Molly saw a few
people go into a building nearly
opposite, and as the door opened
she could distinctly hear the
sound of singing, and the next
minute a daring thought had en-
tered her head. She would
take Bab to hear it too, and
she began to look round
for a gate at once. It was
some time, however, be-
fore she could find one,
and when it was found
she was practically no
nearer her object for the
gate was looked. Then,
glancing at the respect-
ably-dressed people who
were passing along the
street, Molly remembered
that neither she nor Bab
could mix with these ; for
they had neither shoes
nor stockings, and their
clothes were little better
than a bundle of dirty
rags. So she slowly
sauntered back to the
barge, feeling very dis-
appointed and very bitter
against everybody. She
could not say much now
even to comfort Bab.
" Ain't nobody coming
to sing to-day, Molly?"
asked the little girl, as
MoUy went into the dull,
dreary little cabin.
" I s'pose not," said
Molly ; " they likes singing
for themselves best. Look
here, Bab, I never did
think much o' what yer
told mo, and now ii 6
pr«tty certain it ain't for
boaters at all, or else why
don't somebody come and
tell us about it?"
" But the man on the
other wharf said as how
God did care for poor
boaters ; he said Jesus
loved 'em like He did the
woman wot was a sinner,"
protested Bab.
Bat Molly shook her
head. "No, no; gin is the only
comfort boaters as got. I've
heerd mother say it lots o' times,
and I b'lieve it too."
"But mother told me gin'ud just
been her ruin," said Bab quickl)
" She told me so afore she died,
and I b'lieve that."
" I don't," said Molly ; " we c&n
get the gin, but yer know now
we can't get the preaching and
singing, even if we wanted it, and
I'm not sure a3we do. As I said
afore, it ain't for boaters, and
don t suit boaters, 'cos why —
'cos boaters ain't like other
folks."
I'
HI*-
to hurl oaths at $ 1
.olly.she was too
to snch sconps,
that Bab should
, and in her dis-
ired away from
f people to the
wharf, where a
nly separated it
'eering through
•liy saw a few
uilding nearly
he door opened
:tly hear the
and the next
hought had en-
She would
hear it too, and
to look round
: once. It was
however, be-
9uld find one,
it wai> found
practically no
object for the
looked. Then,
; the respect-
1 people who
ng along the
y remembered
r she nor Bab
with these ; for
neither shoes
igs, and their
re little better
ndle of dirty
she slowly
back to the
ing very dis-
ind very bitter
srybody. She
ay much now
ifort Bab.
obody coming
day, Molly V"
little girl, as
into the dull,
cabin.
not," said
y likes singing
OS best. Look
I never did
o' what yer
tnd now ii i
it ain't for
or else why
dy come and
it?"
man on the
said as how
are for poor
said Jesus
ko He did the
was a sinner,"
b.
shook her
in is the only
as got. I've
t lofs o' time*,
mogin'ud just
Bab quickl}
ore she died,
illy ; " we cwi
er know now
reaching and
wanted it, and
lo. As I said
boaters, and
'cos why —
like other
REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE "NORTHERN MKSSENGER."
This argument appeared to be
unanswerable under present cir-
cumstances, and Bab turned her
sad little face to the window,
while Molly took out her bottle,
aa she had so often seen her
mother do when some disappoint-
ment or misfortune had befallen
them. Molly half hoped, half
dreaded, that they would have to
spend another Sunday at the
wharf, for there was no cargo
ready for them when the barge
npon what she had then heard.
8he had little else to think of, sit-
ting there in the dreary cabin all
day ; and in spite of her dis-
appointment, she secretly in-
dulged the hope as the days went
on that another Sunday would be
spent at the wharf. But she was
not destined to spend another
Sunday of suspense and hope de-
ferred, for by midday on Satur-
day the cargo was nil stowed on
toe barge, and they set off at once
was unloaded, and several days on their journey. Sunday was
were wasted waiting for a fresh i like any other day when they
cargo. This always put her father i were travelling. They heard the
out of temper, for delays like this church t<ells ring in the distance,
were a loss to him, and so it was and if they passed through a town
more than ever necessary to keep and caught glimpses of the shops,
poor Bab ont of his sight. It was they saw that most of the shutters
a dull time for the poor little lame ' were closed ; but these signs and
girl, seated in her corner of the tokens of a day of rest having
dreary cabin, and it was
strange that she looked pale and
sickly, and lost her appetite ; for
the foul smell of the close little
cabin — which was scarcply larger
thin a good-sized bedstead, and
yet served as bedroom, kitchen,
way,
tales
and Bab had heard such
sometimes about the perils
and horrors of legging through a
tunnel that she almost held her
breath now with fright and ter-
ror when they were thus travel-
ling ; for Jack in his ill temper
had often told her that his father
could afford to pay for the steam
tug to tow them through if he
had not her useless month to fill.
So Bab felt herself guilty of being
the cause of Jack's danger, and if
anything happened to him it
would of course be her fault.
When this thought recurred to
her now, she blamed herself
more bitterly than ever for going
to sleep the night her mother
died, and " losing her chance," ,
as she called it. If she had only i
" Are yor sure it's rfeal singing,
Molly ?" asked the little girl, as
her sister seized her in her arms.
"Ah, that it was; I could hear
'em as plain as if I was in there.
I heard 'em sing, 'Jesus loves
even me!' Ain't that the sing-
ing yer've been a- wanting to hear
this ever so long? Look over there;
yer can see Ine lights. Hark !
yer can hear 'em singing," and
as Molly spoke, the words of the
chorus sounded plainly — " Jesus
loves even me !" and as Bab heard
the words, shu bowed her head
on her sister's shoulder and burst
into tears.
" Why, what's the matter,- Bab ?
don't yer like it?" asked Molly,
in astonishment.
' Yes, yes. Make haste, Molly,
kept awake, she would have been I and let us hear some more. It's
not .once more dawned for the weary ready to go with whomever God i true, ain't it, what I told yer?" she
workers of the world, meant
nothing to the hundreds and
thousands of our canal population
who were journeying along the
water-ways of our land.
Bab had heard the bells ring
and parlor for the whole family— dozens of times, but the message
was enough to make inyboay ill;' they conveyed had so little to do
and the poor barge .vomen ' had with boaters that she did not even
some excuse for their drinking connect their sweet music with
habits, believing as they did that
gin alone would keep them from
being ill.
Molly could not endure the
stifling little den, and went to
play on the wharf or towing-path
whenever she got the . opportu-
nity. Bab noticed too that she
mtnaged to keep her bottle well
snpplied, and whenever she came
into the cabin the bottle was
brought into use.
" Molly, don't yer b'lieve wot
mother said 'bout that drinking ?"
said Bab, one day, in a tone of ex-
postulation.
Molly "•i)r:;ied. "Yes, I do,"
she 3ai(i, ' a^ how boaters never
I.- J ii wi'put taking a drop;
ind I'lT ture iihe was right, for
t MnijB (jre that aggrawatin', let
<'.>n'.> the smell and the rats that
'un about this "ere cabin. There's
'ather alius gnimbling about
omething, os though it wor my
I lult he could get no cargo. "
"Shall M'e b? here another Sun-
day ?" Bab ventured to ask.
'• Well, maybe we shall, and
maybe we sha'n't ; but wot'e the
good if we are? I tell you it'«
all a mistake about yer thinking o'
that singing and preaching being
lor boaters. If it wor, why o'
course there 'd be 8om<{bodv con e
to tell us, such a hi-', nuart At> this
IS, wi' fifty and p.»y be sixty bariif"
tying up. No, lio ; ai' I saic* ...ore,
these things ain'i .v^r 'is loalers,
tiut for them as hus *.' u govins
and bonnets and b> ' tn'iigs.
borget all about >t, TJa',. uni' uav
a drop o' gin now in' n\en. V\.
give yer a drop when I (.. i spare
it— that's the thing foi' boatert,
yer know."
But Bab shook h<?r head. She
couid not forget tha.' one Sunday
at the wharf and the many secret
ccnf'orence* that had buen held
botwMu he; mother ^wd herself
•19
the longing desire she felt to
learn more about G-od, and
whether He really did think of
poor boaters, and would take care
of her and Molly.
Molly was included in this soli-
citude now, for she could not but
notice her sister's growing love
for her mother's discarded old
bottle, and "drink meant ruin,"
her mother had told her. So she
was anxious that her sister should
give up the habit, and if she
could only be sure herself and
convince Molly that Qod really
cared for them and desired her
to give up drinking gin, she
would do it at once.
She was thinking of this all
day on Sunday, while the donkeys
tramped along the towing-path.
It was pleasanter for Bab to be on
thu move ]ik>> 'his, for sometimes
they caugk c glimpses of corn-
lieldt an'' ^ees, with their yel-
lowing '' ., and little patches
of grass near the towing-path ;
and it v/as vt.easanter to look at
these things than the black slug-
gish waer of ihecanal.that always
remind' .'d her of the tinnelswben
sue locked at it long, although
they It ight be mii.-^s away from
one.
Bab always bad a creeping,
si'.koning dread of tunnels, for if
'iiei father was cross he would
make Jack help him leg tlirough ;
and there was always thj dread-
ful thought that Jack or herfather
might slip and be drowned before
the other end was reached. This
"'^...ult and dangerous task is
performed by two men or boys
lying flat m their backs upon
btafis p'.aced near the head of
the barge, something like wings,
and pressing their- bare feet
against the sides of the tunnel,
thus propelling the barge. Hun-
dreds hud been drowned in tbts
sent io her, and Jack would not i asked, in a triumphant whisper ;
have to leg through the tunnels | "they said plain enough as Jesus
now, because there would be no 'loves us, didn't they?"
useless mouth to fill. | •• Ah, but we dunno whether
So the autumn passed away, 'it means boaters though," said
and the dull, cold days of winter j Molly, as she hurried panting
came, when Jack and her father along the towing-path io where
were always cross and out of the light came streaming from the
temper ; for tramping along the
sloppy towing-path in the frost
and sleet, with scarcely a bit of
shoe to the foot, and only a rag
of a jacket, that was wet through
in five minutes, was very trying,
especially for a boy who worked
as hard as any man on the towing-
path. Jack often grumbled about
this, and when Bab heard it she
always felt he was complaining
of her.
During these dreary weeks and
months there had been several
Sundays spent at various
wharves; but the weather was
too cold now for open-air services,
so Bab had never gone to the logs
since to watch and wait for some-
body to tell her that God cared
for poor boaters. But one Sun-
day evening towards the close of
the winter they tied up near a
lock where some dozen other
barges were fastened, and going
to the towing-path to look round
after her father and Jack had left
the boat, Molly saw lights in a
little building close by, and in-
stantly ran to peep in at the win-
dow and see what was going on.
But she h.id not reached the place
before some one inside opened the
door and looked out, and with the
opfinitig of the door came a Hood
of light and the sound of voices
singing. Molly stood spell-bound
for a minute, listening as the
\ oices rang out, "Jesus loves me !
Jesus loves even me!" Molly
did not wait to hear any more ;
she darted back to the boat, call-
ing " Bab ! Bab !" as she picked
her way along the cargo to the
cabin stairs.
" Bab, there's preaching and
singing here," she said, as she
rushed into the little cabin.
"Come on; I'm going to put
mother's shawl on yer, and take
yer right in there ; I don't care
for any on 'em, or their fine bon-
nets eith6r.
windows of the little building.
When she reached the door,
Molly opened it, and stagyored
in with Bab ; and seeing a vacant
seat near, she sat her little sister
down, and then turned to look
round. The singing was over,
and a man at the other end of the
room was speaking ; but Molly
did not pay mnch attention to
what he said, she was so amazed
to find that the little congregation
were almost all boaters. Some ol
them were as poorly clothed as
she and Bab, but they were
listening with the greatest atten-
tion to what the man was saying.
Molly was too much occupied in
looking round at the bright,
cheery, little mission-room to
listen at first, but at last her ear
was caught by the words — "Yes,
my friends, Jesus wants to be
your Friend, if you will only let
Him. He was the Friend of
fishermeif when He was on this
earth, so that He knows all about
the trials and temptations of boat
people, boys and girls, men and
women ; and it is because He
loves you that He asks you to give
up drinking and swearing and
fighting."
Bab looked at Molly and
nodded. The sad little face was
almost glorified with its look of
gladness. •' It's true, it's true,"
she whispered. " Yer won't
drink any more gin now, will ver,
Molly?"
(To U Oonlinuid.)
Ihe grass withcreth, the
flower fa6eth, but the
^ wot6 of our i5o6 shall
^ staitb foreuer.
IsA. 40 : S.
^ r -At
II
a2
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
-®«4(Sj
she had heard, and theru would
be an end of this ; for she had
often Baid that boaters drank gin
becaosa there was no other com-
fort for them, and nobody cared
whether they drank or not; but
ing forthem,8he would ihrowthe
bottle away. Molly, indeed, real-
ly promised to do this by-and-by.
" But can't yer do it now,
Molly," whispered Dab, in acoaz-
iii(^ (one.
•* Why, what's the hurry ? the
bottle won't bite yer," said her
sister. '■ I won't forget what
we're heard, and I'll ask Jack not
THE WATER WAIFS:
A Story of Canal Barge Life.
BY EMMA IjKSI.IE.
{AvUur cf " KiUnlu Houu," tU.)
Chapter IV.
LEFT BEHfND.
After that Sunday evening
little Bab seemed to blossom into
a new life. She would ^it and sinjf
sottly toherselt as she sat in her
corner by the cabin window,
" JosuB loves me, Jetus loves me. "
She knew no more ihan this, but
it was enough for Dub. Her
problem was solved, and she was
content. While Molly was
looking about her, taking
slock of the room and (bote
who were there, Bub wns
listening' with all (he
urtgeniessol a hungry soul,
and whut she heard seem-
ed like a me.-^aue sent
direct irom God to her.
" Perhaps, my friends,"
Bai') the misMonary, " yon
may have thought that if
Qod hated sin so much He
would surely take us from
a world where sin altounds.
It woulil be easy lur Him
to send a inesi-enger for
each one ol us to-night, and
carry us lis^ht out of (his
(roublevoine world, lint
Gud does not take care of
his people in thai way. He
wishes ihem tu stay hero
that they may teach olhi-rs
what they iheinselvetihave
learued. The poorest and
youngest may do some-
thiiiir it (hey aie willing.
Each can (ell a sister or a
brother of the love of God,
and help ihem lo over-
come some sin. If one sees
aiiothrr giviiisr way to
temper, or atroiig drink, or
crunlty lo (he poor hoises
or donkeys, a kind, gentle
word will olteii prove a
check, and so God's work
will he done, for it is in
(his wny that lie desires
us to v.i;k lor Ilim."
Molly hi'ard nothing of
this, fur rhe was sluiiiig in
oj'eii-cyed wi^nder at the
tr'ciipture prints and text
hung ruumi the room ; but
Hal) heard evi'ry word, nu<f,
like Mary oloM, she " kept
all these sayinirH jn |i,.r
heart." Shf loigut \\v glomiiy 'to whnck (hem doiik"ys8o much
liille cabin, will) itsniud betfriined he do beat 'cm nwliil somi'tiines.'
' Oh yes, I'll take care o' little
Bab for yer, but I can't bring her
here just yet, 'cos she s got to
'member things for Jack and
Molly, and tell 'em if they forget.'
That 'b what I've got to stop here
now that there was no longer any { for, Moll," added the child, in a
doubt about God loving and car- tone of infinite content.
" Oh, Bab, you are a rum 'un ;
I alius Baid vou was," exclaimed
Molly.
But Bab went on talking,
partly to herself and partly to
Molly, without noticing her
sister's remark. " To think as
God 'nil have a poor little 'un,
what ain't good enough fof a
boater to do work for Mim !
B.VB AMOVO THE DAISIES.
flnor, f< r lier lieart was lull ol lh<*
Ihoughi that God loved hor, and
wanti'd h'-r lo be Ills xervant
and do soim'lhmg [«r lli«. f^hi-
was at no Idss to dfcide what this
somelliing was. forbad not Mnllv
grown so fond oi h'-r mothi-r's
oM bodl' la'ely. that scire Iv a
day p.i'Si'd now hut she had several
si|i8 at it, iili'l ofti'ii hail (o lie
down oiiJhi! Ilo'ir and goto sleep
.'or some hours in the middle of the
dav V
Njw D.ib thought sho would
Ain't that jist Ihi' queerest sort of
(liing? Hut ain't it nice lor n
'■ Yer'll tell him to bo l<iiid,' liiile 'uu like ine, what ain't good
won't yer, Molly, and ax father! for nnyihing else '/"
not to swi-nr
speaks to yer?"
every time he
13ut, Bab, how yer talk ; sure
wi'out yer, Bab, now. Why, yer
aint hke no other boater gal— 'coa
why — 'cos yer jist so quiet and
never makes no rows and grum-
blings, that yer like a little bit o'
another world wot boaters never
sees ; and I wouldn't part wi' yer
for anything now," said Molly,
tenderly smoothing down Bab's
fair hair.
It was wonderful toseethelittle
tender, loving ways Molly had
fallen into with her sister lately.
To the rest of the world she was
the rough, rude boater girl, ready
to quarrel and hght with anybody
who ventured to dispute her right
to clear the towing-path, or have
her own way in everything
she chose. But to Dab she
was gentle and kind ">.d
tender, combing and curl-
ing her hair as gently as her
mother did, and taKIng al-
most 08 much pride and
pleasure in doing it. Any-
thing she could do to please
Bab was done without a
murmur, so that it was not
strange that the little girl
fancied her victory over the
bottle would be an easy
one ; and for a little while
sho thought it had been
gained, for she saw no-
thing of it, and hoped that
Molly haa kept herpromise
and thrown it into (he
canal. But as the spring
advanced, and that Sunday
evening at the mission-
room seemed to grow iuto
a dim memory, Bab saw
with surprise and ais-
appointmen'. that the bot-
tle was brought out of its
h'ding' place once more ;
and ' areful as her sister
we- tocc, 1 the fact from
ber, i'lab 1- " w that she had
recomp't.iv.ec' the dreadful
habit of drinking.
Ball .--poke Ouco niorc,
veiy yii.i )y and coaxingly,
but Molly tun jd cross and
denied it. Agnia the little
sister begged and implored
her to throw away the bot-
tle, untilatlast Molly grew
soansrry thatshethreatened
to leave her behind
on the towing path or
wharf, a.sherrather wanted,
ir she said anything about
the bottle again. She did
not mean to carry out this
thnat, but it vexed her
that B.I) should be sharp
enouLii to f what sho thought
was hidiien from everybody, and
she resolved tu indulge herself
only when Bal) was safely ploy-
■ Lor. it ain't no good telling boater, bni maybi« yer'd be good
NOMioni: rise if yer only
father 'bout thit; boaters can't | for
do wi'out swoniiiiLr." slid Molly ; know. d .^ot it wor.'
" but III try and leave off, if it'll
pl'-ase yon and I'll spe.ik lo Jnck
about the d nkev-, if ver like."
•• Oh yes. ilo, M >lly." snid Bib,
" 'cos yer know (hat's why God
didn't send for me when mother
nx.'d Him that iiiuht. I know she
^ only have to rcaiind Moliy of \vhat| did ax Him, and I .s'poso He said,
often cirried her now.
One inorniiiir in May, Molly
came rnnniiig into (ho cabin, cx-
clniminn. •• Here's n lark, Bab, (he
steam-tug can't take us through
the boat, and that wor me he
meent. I'm glad I'm good for
somelin'," concluded uab.
" Why, course yer good for
somelin'. I dunno wot I'd do
stop hero all doy, Jack says."
" Won't they " leg through ?"
asked Bah.
" The lock tender says they
can't ; they're certain sure to gut
'.
onuf yer ain't no good lor a j ing on the towing i)alh, where she
Ye.'i, the man said the poorest
little 'mis could help work for
God if they couldn't help work the tunnel, and we shall have to \
^Hm
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
33
w. Why, yor
later gal— 'ccw
so quiet and
iws and grum-
a little bit o'
boaters never
I't part wi' yer
" said Molly,
t down Bab's
toseethelittlo
ys Molly had
r sister lately,
world she was
iter girl, ready
with anybody
sputo her right
•path, or have
nn everything
But to Bab she
and kind "\d
bing and curl-
as gentlyasher
and tilling al-
ach pride and
loiug it. Any-
ald do to please
one without a
that it was not
the little girl
victory over the
id be an easy
>r a little while
it it had been
■ she saw no-
and hoped that
:ept herpromiso
n it into the
: as the spring
md that Sunday
; the mission-
id to grow into
nory, Bab saw
rise und ois-
'. chat the l.ot-
mght out of its
once more ;
as her sister
1 the fact from
w that she had
et' the dreadful
inking.
^e Oi.ce more,
and coaxingly,
an id cross and
Agniii the little
-d and implored
V away the bot-
ast Molly grew
shothrt'atened
?. hor behind
wing path or
Iher wanted,
iiiylhin? about
;iiin. She did
carry out this
it vexed hor
bo sharp
it she thought
verybody, nnd
dulpfH herself
js siifely ploy-
lath, whore she
ow.
Mny, Molly
the cabin, ex-
a lark. Cab, the
;e us through
shall have to
Jack says."
g through ?"
Jer says they
in sure to gut
i
drowndod if they tries, and so
Jack says he won't try — he'll run
away fust; so we're a-going to tie
up, and I'm a-going to take yer
to a lovely field jest t'other side
o' towing path, where there's but-
tercups a-growing, and yer can
pick 'em, too, if yer like."
Bab cla{>ped her hands with
delight at the thought of picking
"real flowers," and was dressed
in her mother's old cotton sun-
bonnet, and carried to the towing
path. A high fence protected the
field tiom the marauding little
boaters in a general way, and
when Bab saw it she said, ' ' But I
can't get in there, Molly."
" Not by yourself, but yer can
go if I puts yer in ; and that's
what I mean to do," said Molly,
So saying, she seated Bab on the
towing-path while she went to
look lor a gap or a loose rail that
she could pull away and slip Bab
through. But the side next the
towing-path was firm and com-
pact everywhere, and it was not
until she had walked some
distance up the lane skirtin?
another side that Molly discovered
a weak place. Here a rail could
be easily pushed aside, leaving
ample room for a little mite like
Bab to slip through. Molly saw
this, and ran back instantly for her
little sister.
" Now, Bab, yer'll have a jolly
time," she said, as she carried her
up the lane ; " there's nothing
but grass and flowers, and yer can
crawl about or sit still and pick
the daisies, or lay down and go to
sleep. I'll bring yer dinner by-
and-by, and I'll fetch yer as soon
as the tug comes."
" Yer won't forget me, Moll,
will yer?" said Bab, a little
apprehensively, as she looked
back and saw how far they were
from the canal.
" Forget yer ? do I ever forget
yer when I brings yer out 'o the
boat for a bit ?" said Moll v. in an
injured tone.
Bab kissed her sister, and
stroked the coarse tow-like hair.
" Yer werry kind to me, Moll,"
she said ; " I wish mother could
see how kind yer is. No, yer won't
forg'et me, I know, and yer won't
let father go away wi'out me."
"Rightyerare, Bab. Don't I ali-
us sticK up for yer ?" said Molly.
" That yer do, Moll, and yer
won't forget me now, will yer ?"
repeated the child.
" Course I won't — 'cos why —
'cos, I couldn't stop aboard the
boat wi'out yer now, Bab ;" and
she kissed the little pale face in a
way that quite assured poor
little Bab. " Look, here we are.
I can push this bit o' wood out o'
the way, and then yer can slip
through as easy as anything."
" I wish yer could com too,
Moll," said the little girl, t uer
sister gently pushed hor th; h
the broken fence.
" I will if I can, by-and-by, but
I must go and look arter the din-
ner fust. There now, yer can pick
the flowers and roll in the grass,
and do what you like," said
Molly, putting her head in .to
look round. " It is a fine field,"
she added ; " good-by, Bab !" she
called, as she turned away.
" Good-bye," answered Bab ;
" come back soon ;" and in antici-
pation of that coming, she began
to pink the golden buttercups.
" I'll get a big bunch for Molly,"
she said half aloud — " a big bunch
o' the very best in the field ;" and
the little girl carefully selected
the finest flowers that grew with-
in her reach. But very soon she
saw, or fancied she saw, that those
a short distance ofl" were much
better than those close at hand,
and so she shiiffled herself along
in a sitting posture — her only
mode of locomotion — and soon
began picking these. But near
the middle of the field she saw
some beautiful red-tipped daisies,
and the golden buttercups were
forgotten in her eagerness to
reach these choicedaisics. White
ones she had seen before grow-
ing sometimes on the edge of the
towing-path, but never such
large pink-tipped beauties as these.
Bab was in raptures of delight.
She sat and looked at them ; then
stooped and kissed them ; and
when at last she began to pluck
them, she diditmost carefully ana
gently, for fear of spoiling the lit-
tle fringe of delicate pink and
white leaves.
But after gathering a bunch of
these, the unwonted exertion and
fresh air made Bab feel so drowsy,
she was glad to lie down on the
grass, and before she had time to
do more than place hor flowers
carelully beside her, &ho was fust
asleep.
How long she slept she did not
know ; she was too much
astonished when she first
woke to think of anything
but her strange surroundings,
until it slowly dawned upon her
that Molly had said she would
bringher dinner,and she suddenly
became aware that she was very
hungry. Then she picked up her
flowers, and was surprised to sec
how they hung down their heads.
Had she only known it, this would
have been sufficient to tell her she
had been asleep several hours ;
but she did not understand why
they had withered. She did
wisli, however, that Molly would
bring her dinner, and at la.%t
gathered up her flowers, ant^
began to shuffle towards the fence
again, that she might put her head
through the gap, and look down
the lane for her sister. But it
was not easy to find the place
where she had got into the field.
The rail had slipped back into its
place, and one looked exactly like
another, so that the poor child
soon grew quite bewildered in
her eflbrts to find the loose rail as
she scudled up and down the side
of the field, pushing first one and
then another, and trying to
squeeze hor head between the
bars to get a peep down the lane.
At last she grew so utterly
weary of her fruitless effor's that '
she burst into tears, crying, j
" Molly ! Molly ! why don't yer |
come?" Then she looked all'
round, growing more frightened]
every minute.nntil she remember- [
ed that through the rails at the
bottom she could see the canal
and boat, and this gave her fresh
courage ; she would make her
way to the bottom of the field,
and call Molly, and if she could
not make her sister hoar, some-
body else would be on the tow-
ing-path, and go to the barge and
tell her. So drying her eyes, and
gathering up her flowers once
more, she set off" on hor weary
scuffle to the other end of the
field, pausing mar.y times to rest
on her way, and wondering all the
time why Molly had not come to
bring her dinner, and fetch her
back to the boat.
At last, after a journey that
seemed very long indeed to poor
Bab, unaccustomed as she was to
moving about by herself, the fence
ac the bottom of the field was
reached, and dragging horself up
on her knees, she looked eagerly
through at the canal ; but to
hor dismay, there was not a barge
to be seen, and the towing-path
was quite deserted. Poor Bab
dropped back on the grass, too
terror-stricken to cry at first.
What she had lived in dread of for
so long — what Molly had so often
promised to protect her from —had
happened at last : her fathei had
left her behind ; the boat had
gone away without her. She
looked around the wide green
field in helpless bewilderment ;
then peeped through the fence
once more, unable to believe as
yet that Molly— her Molly, who
had been so kind to her— had
really forsaken her.
But there was no room left for
doubt as she gazed once more at
the black sluggish water of the
canal, for there was neither barge
nor steam-tug to be seen ; and at
last, wildly crying, "Molly!
Molly ! Molly ! " poor Bab sank
down upon the grass again, and
burst into agonizing tears. She
cried for some time, now and then
calling, " Molly ! Molly !" but she
grew quiet at last, except for an
occasional seb, until she fell asleep
from weariness and exhaustion.
She slept for some time, and, when
ehe woke she knew by the look of
the sun that nighi. was drawing
near ; yet she no longer felt so terri-
bly afraid of being alone; astrange
sweet peace came over her. All
she had heard at the mission-room
that Sunday evening came back
to her mind with renewed fresh-
ness, and she sang softly to her-
sell, " Jesus loves me, Jesus loves
me." And then some words she
had heard that night, but which
she had scarcely thought of since
until now, arose in her memory.
The missionary had said if any
one was in trouble, and wanted
God to help then. He would al-
ways be willing to do it if they
would only ask Him ; and then he
had explained in a few simple
words what prayer was. Bab
remembered it all now, and sitting
there on the grass, she put her lit-
tle hands together, and added,
" Please .lesus take care on me
and let Molly come back soon
Mother axed God to look arter mo
the night she died, but He
couldn't then, 'cos He wanted
me to 'member things for Molly
and Jack ; and I want ter be
God's gal, and do His work for
Molly and Jack and the donkeys,
though I ain't good enuf for a
boater, 'cos o' iny legs. Please,
Jesus, take care on me somehow,
for I'm hungry, and it's getting
dark, and I don't like being out
in the dark ; so please let Molly
come soon, and take me back to
the boat." Bab did not know
what more to say, so she sat
quietly looking round the field, as
if expecting to see Molly at once.
She was used to sitting still, and
she sat and waited for half an
hour without moving. Then, with
a little sigh, she loolfed once more
at the canal, saying softly to her-
self, " The boat's gone, but
Molly'll come back for me ; so
I'll go and find the place, and be
all ready for her when she
comes."
There was no doubt in her
mind about her sister coming back
now. She had done wha^ siie
had been told to do — she had ask-
ed God to take care of her — and of
course Molly would come and tell
her how it was the boat had gone
without her. The daisies had shut
up their sleepy eyes by this time,
and Bab had no heart to keep
what she had gathorod ; so she
loft them behind as she started
off once more in search ut the
loose rail where she had got into
the field.
(To b4 Cjntinued.)
HOW TO BECOME HAPPY.
Many young persons are ever
thinking over some new way of
adding to their pleasures. Ihey
always look for chances for more
" fun," more joy.
Once there was a wealthy and
powerful king, full of care and
very unhappy. Ho heard of a
man famed for his wisdom and
piety, and found him in a cave on
the borders of a wilderness.
" Holy man," said the king, " I
come to learn how I may become
happy."
Without making a reply, the
wise man led the king over a
a rough path until he brought him
to a high rock, on the top of which
an eagle had built her nost.
" Why has the eagle built hor
nest yonder ?"
" Doubtless," answered the
king, " That it may be out of
danger."
" Then imitate the bird," said
the wise man. " Build thy home
in heaven, and thon thou shalt
have peace and happiness."
f
n
•»
34
THB
WATER WAIFS
REPRINTKD STORIES. FROM THK " NOTrrilEI{N MKSSENGER
cido
A Story of Canal Barge Life.
BT EMMA LESLIE.
(AmUut of " EUt>$Ut ifbuM," etc.)
Chapter V,
new friends.
The slanting rays of the setting
snn were shining into a pleasant
little room where a lady sat with
her hands folded and her eyes
resting on a pair of soiled faded
blue shoes — baby shoes, that no
little feet wore now. The tears
fell silently from the lady's oyes
as she gazed at them, murmuring,
" My darling would have
been seven years old to-
day if she had lived. Five
years has she been with
Ot d now, and no little feet
will make music in o'-
home again ;" and the lad^«
covered her face with he:
hands, and her tears fell
faster than ever.
She did nof hear the door
open, but the next minute
a voice said — " My wife
will not grudge giving up
her sweet flower when she
knows it is but transplant-
ed to God's garden above."
" I am afraid I do, I am
afraid I do," sobbed the
lady. "There are so many
children in the world that
could be better spared
than ours — our only one."
" Hush, hush, my dear,
we know not yet why
God has taken our darling
from us, but we may rest
assured that it was done
in tenderest love — love to
her and love to us. But,
come now, my dear, I want
you to put on your bonnet
and go with me for a drive
this evening. I have a
putient at the other end of
the town I must see again
to-night, and as it is such a
pleasant evening, the drive
will do you good."
The lady looked once
more at the little shoes be-
fore she folded them in the
silver paper to put away ;
then, having carefully
locked them up, she went
and put on her bonnet.
The gig stood at the door
when she came down, and
her husband was waiting
to help her in, and soon they
were driving through the town,
and out by the canal, which was
a mile or two beyond.
" How beautiful that field of
buttercups looks," said the lady.
" Yea, that ' canal held' always
makes a good show," remarked
the doctor, as he gazed across at
it. " Why, there's a child there!"
he suddenly exclaimed, " How
can she have got in ?"
" I don't see any child," said
Mrs. Ellis.
" Whoa, ' Jennie,' " said the
doctor, drawing the reins. " Look
1 1 there, my dear, down by the fence,
m-^
at the cido, there's a child lying
on the grass "
" Suppose we go and see abcut
it, then," said :ae lady ; "perhaps
the poor little thing cannot get
out."
So Jennie's head was turned
towards the lane, and when they
were near the spot where poor
iSab was lying, the doctor got
down and went close to the
fence.
" What are yon doing there,
my child ?" he asked, in a gentle
ton
.ja started, and sat up, her
ct bl '■yes filling with tears
as sho said—" God ain't sent
field and left you here ?" asked
tly doctor.
Bab nodded. " She went to
get my dinner and she'll come
soon now."
"Poor child, poor child," said
the gentleman, stepping back to
speak to his wife, who still sat in
.he chaise.
"My dear, the poor child is
deserted, I feel certain. She
belongs to some of those barge
people, and they have put her in-
to the field and gone off and left
her."
" Oh, how dreadful !" exclaimed
the lady. " What will become of
her ? She cannot stay there all
"'STAND UP AND COME TO ME," SAID MBS. ELLW.'
Molly yet." " Who is Molly ?"
asked the doctor.
" She's Molly, and she's gone
away in the boat , but I's axed
Uod to take care on me, and so
Molly'U come soon," said Bab.
" Is Molly your mother ?" ask-
ed the gentleman.
Bab opened her eyes at the
question. " Mother's gone to ax
God to take care on me," she
said.
" But Molly is a boater, ( sup-
pose ?"
" Yes, she's a loat-raie boater,"
said Bab.
" And she brought yon to this
night." " No, certainly not. My
dear, I wish you would iret down
and speak to her," said the gentle-
man.
Mrs. Ellis soon made her way
to the fence, and put her hand
through, thinking the child would
come to meet her. But Bab only
opened her large blue eyes a little
wider at the unwonted spectacle,
for sho had never seen a lady be-
fore, and Mrs. Ellis' gloves and
pretty spring bonnet were things
almost incomprehensible to Bab.
" Sund up and come to me,"
said Mrs. Bllis, still holding out
her hand.
But Bab shook her head. "My
legs ain't no good," she said. " I
ain't no good neither, only to help
God."
" What does the child mean ?"
said Mrs. Ellis, turning to her
husband.
" Are you lame, little one ?
Can't yon walk ?" asked the
doctor.
Bab again shook her head.
" Molly carried me here," she
said.
" And we must get you out
somehow, that's certain," said the
doctor, speaking partly to himself
and partly to his wife. " Do you
know where the gate is?" he ask-
ed Bab.
She shook her head.
" There ain't no gate ;
Molly found a hole — one
o' these things moves, " said
Bab.
" There is a rail loose,
she means," said the
doctor. " Do you know
where the hole is V he
asked.
Bab shuffled along for a
little distance, with her
eyes fixed upon the fence,
the gentleman keeping
pace with her on the other
side. " I was going to see
if there was another barge
come, but I found the hole
fust," said Bab ; and in a
minute or two she spied
the loose rail again, and
exclaimed, " There it is,
there it is !''
Mr. Ellis pushed it aside,
and said — " Now we will
soon have you out. Come
along, 'little one ; I'll lift
you over."
But Bab drew back as
the doctor held out his
arms. " Molly'll come
presently," she said — " I'm
a-waiting for Molly."
The doctor shook his
head. "Poor child," he
said, " I'm afraid you
won't see Molly any more,
for she's gone away in the
barge and left yon."
" But the man said as
God 'ud take care on me,
if I axed Him," said Bab;
" and I did, an' I'm wait-
ing for Molly now."
" But suppose God has
sent me to take care of you
instead of Molly ?" said
the doctor, glancing at his
wife, who stood close by his side.
" God has sent us to you, dear
child," said the lady, hastily wip-
ing away the tears that had
gathered in her eyes ; and gently
pushing aside her hus'band, she
stooped down and held out her
arms through the gap in the fence.
" Come to me dear," she said ;
" Qod. has xent me to you, I am
sure."
" But why didn't He send
Molly ? I axed Him to send
Molly," said Bab, beginning to
whimper.
" God does not always send as x
the very thing we ask for, but He j |
-«HB| jH9
ir head. "My
she said. " I
r, only to help
child mean ?"
ning to her
, little one?
' asked the
k her head,
e hete," she
get yon out
tain," said the
rtly to himself
fe. *' Do you
teis?" heask-
k her head.
I't no gate ;
. a hole — one
« moves," said
a rail loose,
," said the
)o you know
hole is 1" he
ed along for a
ce, with her
)on the fence,
lan keeping
!r on the other
u going to see
another barge
found the hole
lab ; and in a
wo she spied
il again, and
" There it is,
ushed it aside.
Now we will
Come
I'll lift
>u out.
one ;
tr
1,
Irew back as
beld out his
olly'll come
e said — " I'm
Molly."
shook his
child," he
afraid yon
5lly any more,
e away in the
't you."
man said as
care on me,
said Bab ;
an' I'm wait-
now."
)ose God has
ie care of you
lolly ?" said
ancing at his
by his side.
to you, dear
hastily wip-
s that had
; and gently
usband, she
leld out her
in the fence.
" she said ;
to you, I am
t He send
im to send
eginning to
/ays send us
for, but He
m*
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
\l
often gi\'eg us somethip<; better,
though we may not think 80 at the
tim«. Ton are disappclnted, dear
child, that Molly has not come to
you ; but you will come to us, and
let UB take care of you instead ?"
" Did Qod really send you ?"
asked Bab.
" Yes, dear, I feel sure He did ;
and you will come with us, won't
you r
Bab nodded. "Till Molly
comes," she said; andsheshuflSed
forward to the gap, and allowed
herself to be lifted through with-
out any further demur.
" We must take her home with
us," said the lady, turning to her
husband, and speaking quite
decidedly. " I feel as though God
had spoken with an audible voice,
and said, 'Take this child and
nurse it for Me.' "
" Then we will take her home
at once, dear," said the doctor ;
and helping his wife into the
chaise.-he wrapped his light over-
coat round Bab, and lifted her up
afterwards.
Poor Bab was too tired and
hungry to wonder much about all
this. She lay still in Mrs. Ellis's
arms occasionally opening her
eyes and looking up at her new
friend's gentle face ; but she
scarcely moved until the town was
reached and she caught sight of a
baker's shop. Mrs. Ellis, who was
watching her little pale face, saw
the look that came into her eyes at
the sight of the bread, she whis-
pered, " Are you hungry, dear."
' Not much ; I can wait," said
Bab patiently.
"To be sure the child is
hungry," said Mr. Ellis, stopping
the horse. " I remember she told
me this Molly was to bring her
some dinner, so of course she ha9
had nothing to eat all day."
" What shall I get for her, my
dear ?"
" Some light biscuits and milk
will be best. If she eats a little
now we may give her a proper
meal before she goes to bed."
So the biscuits and milk were
bought, and poor Bab would have
eaten them much faster than was
good for her, for she was very
hungry ; but when Mrs. Ellis told
her she must eat them slowly at
first, just a little bit at a time,
she did exactly as she was told,
although she >vould have liked to
have put the biscuits into her
mouth one after the other as fast
as she could, she was so hungry.
Before they reached home Bab
had finished her meal, and was
fast asleep, and Mr. and Mrs. Ellis
were discussing what they had
better do with the child
Tho first thing to be provided
was clothes ; for the lady had
noticed that those Bab had on
were very dirty, as well as ragged,
and she had made up her mind
to burn them at once ; but the
doctor said, " No, no, my dear, the
clothes must not be destroyed.
Her friends mav come in search
of her, and the clothes might prove
useful in identifying her."
" Do you really think they will
to take her away from us?"
the lady, anxiously. " She
has beer to wofully neglected,
you see."'
" No, I don't think her friends
will ever trouble themselves about
her again. Her mother is dead,
you see, and the child being lame
would always be a burden upon
the father. I am almost certain I
have seen the child's face before
somewhere. Her pathetic blue
eyes struck me as familiar the
moment I saw them, but I cannot
recall where I have seen her.
No, dear, we had better keep her
old clothes ; but what will you do
about getting new ones ?"
" I think I will go and speak to
Mrs. Wilson as soon as I get
home. She may be able to lend
me a few of Lena's old things,
until she is claimed or I can buy
her new ones. Oh, I do hope no
one will want to take her from us
again, for I have learned to love
her already ; she is such a sweet
little thing."
" Very unlike most boaters'
children, certainlj," said Mr. Ellis,
" and I don't think she is likely
to be claimed ; but still, we must
leave that in God's hands, and do
what we can for her while we
have her. I wonder where she
has learned that God would take
care of her ; for these barge people
are such a dreadful set, and so
ignorant that they have seemed
Myond hope of reclaiming."
"Well, somebody has taught
this poor little mite to believe that
God loves her, and will take care
of her, and I am glad of it ; and
it maybe the rest are not so hope-
lessly bad as they seem. Here we
are at home !" exclaimed Mrs.
Ellis, as Jennie stopped at the
doctor's gate. He jumped down
and took the child from his wife's
arms, and then helped her to
descend.
" I'll walk on to Mrs. Wilson's
at once, if you will take her in and
put her on the sofa, I won't be
fone long, and when I come back
will give her a bath before I put
her in clean clothes."
Mrs. Ellis would not ask her
servants to do this for Bab at first,
for they might not like it, and
moreover, she w'anted the child to
feel that she had taken a mother's
place towards her. She soon came
back from her friend's with the
requisite change of clothes, and
Bab was undressed, Mrs. Ellis ex-
pecting to find her very dirtv ;
but to her surprise she found she
had been well cared for in this
respect, dirty and ragged as her
clothes were, and that there would
be no need to cut off her hair.
Molly had washed her and comb-
ed and brushed her hair she
heard, and she was more puzzled
than ever, seeing this evidence of
Molly's care, to account for her
being left in the field.
Bab was puzzled, too, that Mollv
did not come; but she was so much
occunied in looking at all the
strange things around ker, she
had not much time to think about
Molly now. After her bath she
was arrayed in a pretty white-
frilled nightdress that to Bab was
such a marvel of beauty that she
did not like to go to bed in it, for
fear of spoiling it. Then the house
itself seemed a wilderness of
rooms, and each room so much
beyond anything Bab had seen be-
fore, that the whole was like
what a palace in fabled fairyland
would be to an ordinary child.
When she was ready for bed a
servant brought a basin of bread
and milk for her ; but Bab could
scarcely eat it for looking at the
wonderful things around her, all
so unlike the dirty little cabin that
had always been her home.
Mrs. Ellis certainly expected
to see her kneel down, or put her
hands together in prayer, before
going to bed; but the child
evidently knew nothing about
this, and looked up in her friend's
face in wondering amazement
when she said, " Won't you say
your prayers, my dear ?"
"What are prayers?" asked
Bab.
" My dear, you know quite well,
for you told me yon nad been
praying to Gh>d to take care of
you when you were in the field."
But Bab shook her head. "I
don't know what prayers is,'' she
said. ,
"But, my dear, you told me
you had been asking Gtod to take
care of you when you were in the
field," said Mrs. Ellis.
" Oh yes ; the man said as Jesus
loved us and 'ud take care on us,
if we only axed him ; and I did,
and then He told you to come
and get me out."
" Well, my dear, asking God
for anything is praying," said Mrs.
Ellis ; " And God likes us to ask
Him every day for what we
want."
" But I ain't in the field now,
and I don't want nothing, only
Molly," argued Bab.
•' Well, dear, but wouldn't you
like to thank God for taking care
of you, and bringing you here ?"
" I dunno yet ; but I want
Gt>d to take care o' Mollv and
Jack.and the donkeys. God loves
donkeys as well as bioaters," added
Bab.
" Then you should ask God to
take care of these friends;" and
Mrs. Ellis taught the little girl
how to kneel and put her hands
together, but let her use her own
words of prayer, for she felt they
would be more real to her than any
form of words that she could teach,
at least for the present.
(To bt Gontmued.)
35 T
BEFORE PENS.
The chisel vraa employed for
inscribing on stone, wood, and
metal. It was so sharpened as to
suit the material operated on, and
was dexterously handled by all
early artists. "The style, a sharp-
pointed instrument ofmetol, ivory,
or bone, was used for writing on
wax tablets. The style was un-
suitable for holding a Unid,hence a
species of reed was employed for
writing on parchment. These
styles and reeds were carefully
kept in cases, and the writer* had
a sponge, knife and pumice stone,
compasses for measuring, scissors
for cutting, a puncheon to point
out the beginning and the end of
each lino intc columns,a glass con-
taining Ban*d, and another with
writing fluid. These were the
chief implements used for
centuries to register facts and
events. Reeds continued to be
used till the eighth century ,though
quills were known in the middle
of the seventh. The earliest
author who uses the word penna
for a writing pen is Isadorus, who
lived in that century ; and toward
thn end of it a Latin sonnet, " To a
Pen," was written by an Anglo-
Saxon. But though quills were
known at this period, they came
into general use very slowly ; for
in 1433 a present of a bundle of
quills was sent from Venice by a
monk with a letter in which he
says : " Show this bundle to
Brother Nicolas, that he may
choose a quill." The only other
material to which we would refer
is ink, the composition and colors
of which werevarious. The black
was made of burnt ivory and the
liquor of the cuttle fish. We are
not prepared to say what other
ingredient was used, or how it
was manufactured, but these
ancient manuscripts prove that
the ink was of a superior descrip-
tion. Red, purple, silver, and
gold inks were used. The red
was made from vermilion and
carmine, the purple from the
murex, and the manufacture of
these, especially the gold and
silver varieties, was an extensive
andlucrative business. — Chambers'
Journal.
m
A REMARKABLE NEST.
The cow-bunting of New
England never builds a nest. The
female lays her eggs in the nests of
those birds whose young feed like
her own on insects and worms,
taking care to deposit but one egg
in a nest. A cow-bunting deposit-
ed an egg in the nost of a spar-
row, in whigh was one egg of the
latter. On the sparrow's return
what was to be done ? She could
not get out tho egg which belong-
ed to her, neither did she wish to
desert her nest, so nicely prepared
for her own young. What did
she do ? After consultation with
her husband, they fixed on their
mode of procedure. They built a
bridge of straw and hair directly
overthe two eggs, making a second
story in the home, thus leaving
the two eggs below out of tho
reach of the warmth of her body.
In the upper apartment she laid
four eggs, and reared her four
children. In the museum at
Salem, Mass., may be seen this
nest, with two eggs imprisoned
below. — Evangelist.
^
36
REPRINTED
THE WATER WAIFS ;
A Story of Canal Barge Life
STORIE S. FROM
" To
m*
THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
sing ?" " To the towing-path,
my dear !" exclaimed the lady.
" Wh«t do vou mean ?"
" Why, there's lots of boaters
that want to learn hymn8,only they
can't," said Bab ; nnd then she
told Mrs Ellis of that Sunday she
spent at the wharf waitint^ and
watching for some one to come
nnd teach her a hymn, or tell her
that God would take care of her,
The tears rose to the lady's eyes
as she listened to Bab's account
ot how Molly had coaxed Jack
Knives and forks, to hurry.the donkeys on, that they
saucers, spoons and might spend the Sunday at the
lay
the
" But, my dear," said Mrs. Ellis,
" you can learn to sing hymns
here, and we are going to take you
to church with us next Sunday.
I was talking to the doctor about
it only yesterday, and he thinks
you may go with us now."
" But I want to go to the tow-
ing-path as well," said Bab, '■ 'cos
Molly is going to be there."
The lady looked at tlie child,
wondering whether she could
have seen or heard from her sister
lately, but judging that such a
thing was quite impossible she
said — " My dear, your sister is not
J^^i^\
^.1-,/
BT EMMA LESME.
{Author of " ElUnlic Hmm," tic.)
Chapter VI.
BAB'd FAITH.
My readers may perhaps expect
to hear that Bab was wonderfully
happy in her new home, but it
was not so. She felt lost and be-
wildered by her strange sur
roundings.
cups and
plates, were a burden to poor Bab, I wharf, and how bitter the disap-j likely to come to this neighbor
who had been used to make hcrlpointmentwas when noonocamt hood — come near here, I mean."
own fingers do duty for
all these. So also were
the chairs and couches, for
•he had been used to
crouch in the corner by the
cabin-window, and keep
her unfortunate little legs
out of sight as much as
possible ; but now she was
told she must not double
her legs under her, bni 1
flat on her back as mr<'
as possible, for the doctor
hoped that with care she
might outgrow tlie \"eak-
ness that had caused T 'i
lameness, as there was n.
malformation of the limbs.
Then Bab's different
clothes were anything but
an unmitigated pleasure
to her, not that she delight-
ed in dirt.bnt the few loose
rags she had always worn
were to her far more com-
fortable than the pretty,
neat little frocks, that fitted
her so closely, and which
she was in constant fear of
spoiling. But, by degrees,
this uncomfortable sense of
having clothes on, began
to wear off, and then the
doctor and Mrs. Ellis were
so kind that Bab at length
commenced to enjoy some
things in her new life.
She liked learning to read
and to sew, but her
especial delight was to lie
on the couch, listening to
Mrs. Ellis when she play-
ed the piano, and sang
some simple hymns. Bab
was very quick at learn-
ing these, too. She had
soon learned all the words
of " Jesiis loves me," and
several others, and would
join Mrs. Ellis in singing them to sing or preach. "Oh dear,
whenever they were by them- how shocking ! I will talk to the
selves, for she had soon lost all doctor about it as soon as he comes
fear of the gentle lady, who was home," said the lady,
^^^^:W,
.^,^i.^«r
I CAN'T- J CANT UO AWAY FROM YOU.
so kind and loving to her,although
she was still rather shy of the
doctor.
In this way some weeks nossed.
Nothing was heard of Molly, and
Bab so seldom mentioned her
now, that her friends began to
But couldn't we go now ?"
said Bab ; " there's sure to be a
lot of boats tied up, and it's sing-
ing boaters like best."
" I'll tiilk to the doctor," replied
Mrs. Ellis, " when he comes home,
and I fi.'el sure he will go himself
hope she was gradually forgetting .or get sombody to go next Sunday
her old life, until one evening, | and have a service for the
when they had been singing as. boaters."
usual, Bab started up all at once, "And you'll ask him to take
and exclaimed—" Couldn't we go me, won't you ?" said Bab, coax-
down to the towing-path and'ingly.
"Oh, yes, she will !" said Bab,
confidently. " You told me to
pray to God about Molly, and I
have, and He's sure to send her
to mo soon ; so I must go to the
towing-path, and be ready for
her."
Mrs. Ellis looked a little disap-
pointed OS Bab said this.
"My dear Barbara, are you not
happy here ?" she asked, anxious-
ly. " Would you like to go away
and leave me now ?"
This view of the matter was
apparently a new one to Bab.
She had never thought that to
go with Molly she must leave her
new friend. She raised herself
from the couch where she had
been lying, and held out her arms
towards Mrs. Ellis ; and when
the lady seated herself beside her,
she flung her arms round her neck
and burst into tears. " I can't — I
can't go away from you, "she said;
" and maybe father wouldn't let
me go on the boat now, 'cos he
always was wanting to lose me.
But I must see Molly— oh, I must
see Molly ?"
" My dear, you shall see her if
we can find her," said Mrs. Ellii^,
scarcely knowing what she said,
in her anxiety to comfort the poor
child.
" You'll take me to the
towing-path, or else to the
field, won't you? 'cos. Molly
is sure to come and look
for me there."
" Who is that wants to
go back to the held again
— not my little Barbara,
surely ?" said the cheerful
voice of the doctor, who
had entered the room in
time to hear Bab's last
words.
" I want Molly, please ;
I want you to take
me to Moll y," said
the little girl, in an im-
ploring tone, but still
clinging fast to Mrs. Ellis.
"Why, what is this ? we
have not heard anything
about Molly for a long
time," said the gentleman,
seating himself on the sofa
beside his wife.
" I've been asking God
all the time to bring Molly
back, and I know she'll
come spon, if we go and
sing on the towing-path,
'cos she likes singing, Molly
does, and she wanted to
hear the man at the wharf,
like I did."
Then Mrs. Ellis told her
husband what she had
heard from Bab about her
and Molly waiting all day
for some one to hold a
mission service at the
wharf, and how they had
watched and waited in
vain. 'Poor little Bab! If I
had only known it, I would
have come myself and talk-
ed to you, and sang to you,"
said the doctor.kissiug her.
" There's a lot more
boaters left," said the
child.
" Not many like you, my little
Barbara, I think."
" I ain't no good for a boater ;
but there's lots that ain't heard
about Jesus loving them. Won't
you go and singtnem that hymn
what tells 'em about it ?" asked
Bab, anxiously.
"She wanted me to go tonight
and sing to these poor children,"
said Mrs. Ellis, smiling.
" Well, we can hardly go to-
night, my little Barbara, but I will
certainly see if anything can be
done for these poor barge children,
and without delay, too. I think I
;
,
^
ik.
^-
ink I \\\
REIMUNTED STORIES, FROM THK -NORTHERN MKSSENOER."
raised herself
rhere she had
d out her arms
8 ; and when
self beside her,
round herneck
I. " I can't— I
yea, "she said;
r wouldn't let
; now, 'cos he
ig to lose me.
ly — oh, I must
shall see her if
laid Mrs. Ellis
vbat she said,
imfort the poor
ake me to the
, or else to the
OH? 'cos, Molly
ime and look
that wants to
he field again
little Barbara,
d the cheerful
( doctor, who
1 the room in
ar Bab's last
Molly, please ;
'ou to take
oil y," said
irl, in an im-
le, but still
to Mrs. Ellis,
tiat is this ? we
eard anything
Y for a long
he gentleman,
elf on the sofa
ife.
in asking God
.0 bring Molly
know she'll
f we go and
towing-path,
singing, Molly
) wanted to
at Ihe wharf,
Ellis told her
lat she had
lab about her
aiting all day
le to hold a
vice at the
ow they had
waited in
ittleBab! If I
Kn it, 1 would
self and talk-
sang to you,"
ir.kissing her.
lot more
said the
ou, my little
for a boater ;
ain't heard
hem. Won't
n that hymn
it ?" asked
ogo to night
lor children,"
ardly go to-
ra, but I will
hing can be
rge children,
|>o. I think I
have heard that a good muuv
boats stop here on Sunday. I will
make inquiries, and if so, I will
certainly try a little Sunday-
school or mitwion service down
there. Good-night, mv darling,"
said the doctor, as the servant
came to carr>y Bab to bed. " We
will have a Sunday-school for the
little boat-children very soon."
And long after Bab was asleep, the
doctor and his wife sat talking of
this, and the little water waif that
bad been so strangely brought
under their care.
Mrs. Elli?' greatest dread was
that Bab should be claimed, and
the child's passionate longing for
Molly disturbed her a good deal ;
and when tile plans for beginning
a Sunday-school on the canal bank
had been discussed for some time,
she came back to this trouble
once more. " I should like to
know what sort of a girl this
Molly is," said the lady.
" We have not heard anything
akoutherforsometime. Ithoug.it
our Barbara had forgotten all her
relations," said the doctor.
" She has thought about the an,
I fancy, although she has not talk-
ed of them," said Mrs. E'.lis.
" But now about this girl— this
Molly. I'am afraid the child will
never be happy until she h'.ars of
her."
" But, my dear, I thoug it your
greatest fear was lest our little
waif should be claimed." said Mr.
Ellis.
" Well, yes, it is; and somehow
I feel sure this Molly did not leave
her in the field, intending to
desert her. She loved the child,
I am certain, and I should like
her to know she is safe and well
cared for."
" That she might come and take
her away from us— she would
have the right, you know, my
dear," said the doctor.
" Yes, I do know, and I am
afraid she would want the little
darling back," said Mrs. Ellis ;
" but still I have been thinking of
it all, and — and I do think
we ought to try and find her.
She loved our little Barbara be-
fore we did, and she will grieve
for her loss, perhaps as much as I
should, and I think she ought to
know where she is. Perhaps she
would let her stay with us, for
Bab says her father wanted to
lose her, she knows."
Mr. Ellis sat thinking for a few
minutes, and at last he said, " I
believe yon are right, my dear,
and I will make inquiries abont
this Uolly. Perhaps we ought to
have done so before."
" I think we ought ; I am sure
it is right we should do so now,
although it is hard to think we
have to give up the child to go
back to such a life ;" and the lady
sighed as she thought how much
Bab had improved already in
looks and speech, and how doubly
painful the dirt and misery of her
former lot would be to her now,
if she should have to go back and
live on the barge. "This is the
hardest thing I ever had to do, I
think," tfce said, after a minute's
silence ; " It seems like pushing
her back into misery, with my
own hands ; and yet it is right, I
feel sure it is right."
" And being so, our duty is
plain, and we muse trust in God
for the rest," said the doctor, yet
scarcely able to repress a sigh him-
self, as he thought of poor Bab ;
for if this Molly really loved the
child, she would certainly wani to
take her from them.
" What will you do ? where
will you make inquiries?" asked
Mrs Ellis, after a pause.
" I will try and ses the mon
who has charge of the lock to
morrow, and ask him if he has
heard anything of a chilit being
lost — ifa girl has 'uc^n rjakingin-
qniries for one."
" And you will tell him where
we found our little darling ?"
asked Mrs. Ellis.
" Certainly, my dear ; I must
tell him the whole affair, and
where the child may be found, if
any of tier friends should come
and inquire for her. We must do
that ; it ought to have been done
before ; and then, whatever the
result may be, we must believe it
will be for the best — the best for
Barbara as well as ourselves," said
the doctor.
He did not think much of poor
Mollv in the affair, as to what
would be best /or her ; but Bab
thought little of anybody else
except Moll^, and prayed for her
night and morning, that God
would take care of her and bring
her back soon.
She did not know of the in-
quiries that wore being made by
the doctor, until one day, when
she was sitting on Mrs. Ellis'
knee, the lady said, " Barbara,
my dear, we have heard some-
thing about Molly."
" Oh, where, where is she?'
asked Bab, tossing her curls back,
and looking round towards the
door, expecting to see Molly there.
" We have not seen her, my
dear, but we havb heard about
her," said the lad/, tenderly
smoothing back the long fair
curls, and kissing the little eager,
upturned face. " She came
back to. look for you in the SpUI,
and "
" I knew she would, I knew
she would." interrupted Bab,
eagerly. " I knew Molly would
come. Where is she now ?" she
suddenly asked.
" She went back to the barge,
we think. She asked the lock-
keeper if he had seen a litiio girl
—her little Bab she called you, so
that we know it must be Molly."
37 V
i m\ ht ^mmi
•• I ttakll iMMtUflad, whaa I awmlM, with Ukj lUunMa."-Pii. IT ; U
El. Nathah. Jambs McORAnAHAS.
^^^^^m
1. Bool of mine, in carth-Iy tem-ple, Wliy not here con - tent •• bidef
2. Soul of mine, my heart is cling-ing To the earth's fair pomp and pride;
3. Soul of mine, ninst 1 sur • ren-der, See my-self aa em - ci - fied ;
4. Sonl of mine,con- tin-lie pleadine;Sin re-bnl(e, and fol - ly chide:
, , -r' r- r- rr -r^ ■ ■*■ ^ -r U r'. -r t r . t r-jgy .
-=^
Why art thou for • er - cr pleading? Why art thou not sat ■ is - fled?
Ah, why dost then thus re-prove me? Why art thou not sat - is - fied?
Tnmfromall of earth's am - bi-tion, That thou may'et be sat - is-fled?
I ac-ceptthe cross of Je • sns, That thou may 'st be sat - is - fled.
I Bhsll be sat-is fled, I shall be aatiified,
I shall be Bal-is-fled, I shall be aliiM, I shall be satisfied, <
When I a-wake in his likeness, I shall be sat-isfied,
I shall be sat-iBfied,
ft*
I shall be satis-ficd, When I awake in his like
I shall be satis-fled. I shall be satis-fled,
• Tba suthor hsn rsatorss this ekonii la in eriUBal Isna, wbloa ha racatds ss much Iwtlss.
" When did shs f^me ?" asked
the child.
" We think it must have bien
ihe day after we found you," said
Ihe lady.
" And I wasn't there— oh, why
wasn't I there, why didn't Molly
come here ?" and poor Bab burst
into tears at the bitter thoi.;jht ol
having missed her sister when
she came to search for her.
" Don't cry, my darling ; you
will see Molly some day soon, for
the lock-keeper has promised to
toll all the barge-people that a lit-
tle girl named Bab was found
here, and then when Molly hears
of it, she will come and ask him
again where you are, and he will
tell her where to find you."
Bab smiled through her tears.
" God will takecar« ; '''>"y, and
bring her to .-ne, . /'iv ' she
said ; " a'ld I'll o, > ,at a
dear mama you Hi" iien,
IE another thought 0'.'»i ' '■ sr,
she threw her arrp; i . • .. t ts.
Ellis' neck, and ex dauei » • ' I
can't go away with' t ^ -i t
Molly takes me, you';! cOia .ic
won't you ?"
Mrs. Ellis smiled as shv i '. t^e
I the eager little face. lU dea .
you forget I never ivt- on j
barge," she said.
"And you wo d i.-^i >t /i., !>
no, you woulun't lil .^ v,' • (
, Bab, all .at once riimeni^ ••.■..g
something of the miisery of that
almost forgotten time.
"And you would not li! i it now,
my darling, I think,' said the
Itidy, a little anxiously.
Bab shook her head. She was
beginning to apprecin te the com-
forts and refinementfi of her new
home, and the thoug.'it of the dirty,
close little cabin made her shud-
der, as she thought of going back
to it. " What shall I do V" she
said. " Molly will want me to
go back, I know."
"We will ask God about it,dear,
and he will tell us what we
ought to do. We must do what
is right, you know, not what will
please us best."
Bab nodded, and then, after a
pause she said, " I wish Molly
wasn't a boater, and then she
could stay here ; but she's a first
rate boater, you know, and so she
wouldn't like it."
Bab eviiiently thought the
occupation of a boater superior
to till others, and Mrs. Ellis did
not attempt to correct this notion,
for she bad no idea of taking
Molly into her heart and home, as
she had taken this helpless little
waif and she could not raise
hopes of this, even to pacify Bab,
so she said " Now, my dear, we
will ask God to take care of us, and
manage this difficult business as
He sees to be best. Only I thought
you would like to know that
Molly had not forgotten you, as
we feared."
"I knew Molly hadn't forgot-
ten me. Molly won't forget poor
little Bab," said the chud, con-
fidently.
ITo h* Oontinvtd.)
^t49
m^
i^
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTH KRN MESSENGER."
THE WATER WAIFS:
A Story of Canal Barge Life.
BT KHHA LESLIE.
^Aulhor of " EUarilit Hoim," 4U.)
Chapter YIL— holly's re-
turn AND REFOBUATION.
Early in the aatamn a boat-
man's misaion-room waa opened
near the lock, for Dr. Ellis had
very soon interested some friends
in the neglected condition of the
poor boatera, and an effort was at
once made to do something to
remedy this ; and it was arranged
that the doctor and a few other
friends should in turn con-
duct a Sunday evening
service, tw well as an oc-
casional service during the
week, at the mission-room.
There was to be a Sunday-
school also for the children,
which Mrs. Ellis readily
agreed to manage, and she
promised that Bab should
go with her sometimes, to
help her with the singing ;
for the little girl was al-
most wild about this, and
could talk of little else now
than singing to the boat-
ers in the new school-
room.
Bab was so happy and
so excited that she could
scarcely keep herself
from ringing aiond, "Jesus
loves me," as they drove
alon<^ the road ; and she
scarcely saw anything
they passed, in her
eagerness to reach the
new school-room and
witness the delight of the
boat children at her dear
mamma's singing ; for
Bab always called Mrs.
Ellis mamma now, and no
one seeing them together
would ever imagine they
could be anything else.
Bab was now so oc-
cupied in looking up into
her dear friend's gentle,
loving face, and forward
at the road along which
they were going, that she
never glanced aside at
the field where she had
last parted from Molly ;
or else she must have
seen the crouching figure
of a girl, dirty, unkempt,
and miserable-lookinii,
close to the fence where
Molly had found the broken
rail. Bnt the ragged heap
by the fence saw the chaise ap-
proaching, the bright, sunny-hair-
ed little girl between the lady and
gentleman, and a pair of shining,
eager eyes, looked out from the
tangles of unkempt hair, and fixed
their gaze upon the happy little
face.
" It cant be, it can't be her,"
muttered the girl, yet still keeping
her eyes fixed upon the child ; and
when the chaise passed she got up
and went after it as fast as she
[ was able. She did not try to run
up with it, but managed to keep
it in sight, until it stopped at the
raiasion-room, and she uw the
little girl carried in ; and then the
gentleman drove away again, the
ragged girl atill following, until
the atreets of the town were reach-
ed, and she aaw a poor man touch
hia hat t(Tthe doctor as the chaise
stopped. She followed the man
then down a side street for a few
yards, and touching him on the
shoulder, she said, " Do you know
that man in the little cart ?" She
spoke in an eager, anxious
whisper, and the man thought she
must he ill, and said so.
" Bnt that's the doctor, anre
only nodded her head and hurried
up the street and back b#the way
she had come, until she' reached
the miaaion-room. As she drew
near she could hear them singing
inside, and stopped to listen for a
minute ; then went on again, un-
til she reached one corner where
a window waa open, and here ahe
placed herself where she could
see and hear all that was goinv on
without herself being seen. How
bright and eager her eyes grew as
ahe peered cautiously into the
room, until at length her whole
face seemed to change with ita
glad look of wondering aurprise
and joy as she clasped her hands,
MOLLY LOOKING IN AT THE DOCTOR'S WINDOW.
enough, and a kinder man never
lived than Dr. Ellis ; so yer need
not be afraid of speaking to him,"
added the man, in a kind manner.
" Where does he live ?" asked
the girl eagerly.
" Yer going to see him at his
house, I s'pose? Well, yer go
right straight through the town
to Spring Road, and then yer'U
see his name on a brass plate on
the gate. ' Dr. Ellis, surgeon. ' Yer
can't mistake it," said the man.
The girl did not tell him that
she could not read, and there-
fore the doctor's brass plate would
be of little service to her ; she
murmuring — " Yea, it ia Bab ; it
is my Bab !" and completely
overcome by the joyful recogni-
tion, Molly sank down upon the
ground and burst into tears.
" I don't care for nothing
now," she murmured half aloud,
looking up when the singing
began again, and listening for
BaVs sweet little voice ; they've
took her and made a lady of her,
and that's just all poor Bab was
fit lor ; and ^ow I know she's
safe, why, V'! go away and
look arter somefin' for myself."
But Molly did not go away.
She seemed, however, to become
suddenly aware of her deplorable
appearance, and after watching
Mrs. EUia and Bab drive away in
the gig, ahe went down to the
canal bank, and contrived to waah
her face and smooth her hair, and
ahake a little of the dust out )f
her clothes ; ao that when the
evening service began ahe alip-
ped into the miaaion-room with
the other boatera without exciting
any attention.
The doctor conducted the
simple aervice, bnt of course ho
knew nothinff of Molly, and took
no notice of her ; bnt Molly was
greatly disappointed that Mrs.
Ellis and Bab did not come,
she had promised her-
self the pleasure of
having one last \ona look
at her little sister liefore
she went away, and she
could not pay much at-
tention either to the
prayers or singing for
thinking of this.
When the service was
over she crept out, and
the next morning started
on her travels ; but the day-
following she was back
again, and before the end
of the week Mr. Ellis
heard from the lock-
keeper that Molly waa
about the neighbourhood
again.
" Then send her to me,"
said the gentleman.
But, to the doctor's sur-
prise, another week pass-
ed, and he had heard no-
thing of Molly.
T n e weather had
changed during the last
few days, and was now so
cold and wet that no one
ventured out of doors, un-
less they were compelled
to go ; and when Dr. Ellis
entered his gate about
dusk one evening, and
saw a crouching figure
close to the drawing-room
window, he thought some
thief was taking advantage
of the darkness and the
weather to make himself
acquainted with his do-
mestic arrangement pre-
paratory to breaking into
the house. It was there-
fore with no light hand
that he seized upon the
intruder, but saw to
his astonishment, as he
dragged her from the shelter of
the shrubs to the gravel path,
that it was only a poor half-
drenched girl, instead of a man, as
he had supposed.
She was evidently astonished
at being dragged from her hiding-
place, and with an oath she
wrenched herself from his hold,
demanding who hs was, and
raising her hand in a threatening
attitude, as if to strike him.
Seeing her wretched, woe-begone
condition Mr. Ellis' heart was in-
stantly filled with pity, and he
said in a gentle tone, " What are
you doing at my windows such a
W
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
her deplorable '^
kfter WKtching
drive away in
down to the
Ltrived to wash
1 her hair, and
le dust out >f
hat when the
9gan she Blip*
ion-room with
ithout exciting
ondncted the
t of course ho
^olly, and took
t>nt Molly was
3d that Mrs.
d not cume,
>romi8ed her-
pleasnre of
last lonff look
e sister liefore
iway, and she
pay much at-
Iher to the
singing for
this.
e service was
:rept out, and
lorning started
ils ; but the day
she was back
before the end
»ek Mr. Ellis
n the lock-
nt Molly was
neighbourhood
snd her to me,"
itleman.
le doctor's sur-
ter week pass-
tiad heard no-
>lly.
eather had
uring the last
nd was now so
et that no one
It of doors, nn-
ere compelled
when Dr. £llis
gate about
evening, and
ucbing figure
drawing-room
thought some
;ing advantage
cness and the
make himself
with his do-
ngement pre-
breaking into
It was there-
to light hand
ed upon the
lut saw to
ment, as he
he shelter of
gravel path,
poor half-
id of a man, as
ly astonished
m her hiding-
in oath she
rom his hold,
i» was, and
a threatening
strike him.
, woe-begone
heart was in-
pity, and he
" What are
idows such a
night as this? Do yon want
me?"
<• Are you Dr. Ellis ?" asked
the girl, her hand suddenly drop-
ping at her side.
" Yes ; yon had better come in-
side, and tell me what you want,"
said the doctor taking the key
from his pocket, and leading the
way to a side door.
But the girl did not follow. " I
don't want nothing," she said ; " I
only wanted to have a look at the
little gal inside there." And she
was moving towards the ^ate, but
" When did your mother die ?
Was it about a year ago in this
neighborhood ?"
" It warn't far from this lock,"
said Molly.
" Then I had seen little Barbara
before. She cried to sit beside
her mothev when I came."
" YfS, that she did. She'd took
n notion thnt Uod was going to
send a messenger for her that
night, and thought she'd lost her
chance 'cos she went to sleep and
didn't see him."
" Poor little mite ; I am afraid
her.'
" Bab thought that Qod wanted
her to do some work for Him
fast," said Molly ; " and if it was
worth His while to look after a
poor boater gal like me, why I
think He did.^'
" Why should you speak of
yourself like that?" asked the doC'
the doctor's hand was laid upon 'jt was the messenger's fault, for I
her shoulder | might have seen that night that
" Do you know the little girl in ghe needed some one to befriend
there ?' he asked, guessing at i—- ■<
once that this was Molly come in
search of her sister. " Have you
seen her ?"
The girl nodded. " Yes, I've
seen her afore to-day," she said ;
" but I'll never come no more if
y er'll promise to take good care o'
Bab always."
" Then you are Molly, that our
little Barbara is so often talking
about. Yon must come in and
see her now, and let her know
you are safe."
But Molly only tried to drag
herself away. " No, no, I've
seen her," she said ; " and
I'll go away now, and never come
back any more."
" But why should you do that
my girl ?" said the gentleman.
" 'Cos Bab is happy, and I
couldn't do nothing for her like
you can, and so I don't want her
to know about boaters and me any
more."
'' But Bab is very anxious to
know about you, and now you are
here you must come in and see
her. I am glad you do not want
to take her away from us."
" Take her away — take Bab
away when she's so happy, and
yer so good to her?" Molly spoke
almost with a sob, but she allow-
ed herself to be led into the house,
and followed the doctor into the
little surgery.
" Now, my girl, I should like
you to tell mo whether any one
else is likely to claim our little
using God's precious gift to you
as He would have you use it."
" Why, what can I do i" said
Molly. " Only tell me, yer'll see
whether I won't do it, just for
the chance o' seeing Bab some-
times, so as she won't be ashamed
on me."
" Very well, then, I will see
what can be done for you. And
now yon shall come and see Bab ;
or, stay, I will ask Mrs. Ellis to
Hnd you some dry clothes first, and
then I will bring Bab to yon ''
And Mr. Ellis went and called
his wife, and explained to her as
shortly as he could who was in
the surgery, and how she came
there.
" And she does not want to take
the 'child Irom us !" exclaimed
the lady, in a tone of relief. "Oh,
I do hope Wo shall be able to help
the poor girl herself, if only for
that."
" We must certainly do some-
thing for her, for she has the mak-
tor. " Boaters are as dear to God ! '»« "^ " ^of^ "J"^ »»*''« TT"""" "J
as any one else. The Lord Jesus ! !>"• »" «P''« "^ »J" roughness and
Christ died for you, as much as \ Jffno"nce. But now go and hnd
He died for me or any other per- ^" «»"»« «l°t''«»- "Py ^«"' 2"*^
son.
And now tell me about vour-
self How can I help you ?"
" Help me !" exclaimed Molly.
" Why, I'm a boater ; I ain't like
Bab."
" You are not
certainly ; but still
take her to the kitchen fire,
while I go and tell Bab who is
here."
A change of clothes was soon
found for Molly, and a meal was
spread for her in the kitchen ; but
before she had sat down Bab came
so helpless, in, and the sisters were left to
if you have themselves for the next hour.
le t your father s barge, and are ; gab's first words, after her tear-
all alone in the world, you must U^, greeting, sounded a little
need some help. I am sure, for ''^^^ful, for she said "Oh,
you are a young girl
" But I ain't fit for Bab, and I
never was, and the only thing I
can do is jist to go right away, and
let Bab forget mo ; and then yer
can make a lady on her, withiout
any fear of the folks talking about
her being a boater."
" But God did not give Bab to
you and to us for that. He sent
her here among ns to help us."
Yes, that's what she says, and
Molly , why did you go away with-
out me that day, and leave me in
the field?"
" 1 never meant to, Bab. Yer
know I never meant to, don't
yer ?" said Molly, imploringly.
" I know yer didn't leave me
there on purpose. But how was
it, Molly ?"
" Well, I'm most ashamed to
tell yer, 'specially now ; but I tell
yer this, Bab, I' ain't never touch'
she has helped me. You can tell j ed it since, and I ain't a-going to,
her I never touches the bottle i for it was all through mother's old
now," said Molly.
" You shall tell
her yourself,
Barbara. Does your father know ! Molly. You know she is
where she is ?'
" Not a bit of it, and he don't
care ; he'll never trouble hisself
to ask about her now he's got
rid of her, for that was all he
wanted."
" And you have not told him
where she is ?"
" It ain't likely, for yer don't
want ter have a lot o' boaters
bothering yer ; and I've left
father now, for he don't want me,
'cos I grumbled and kicked up a
row at the way he'd served me
and Bab, locking me in the cabin,
and going off leaving Bab in that
field.*'
" That is how she came to be
left behind then ?" said the doc-
tor.
" Yes, father he was always
looking out for the chance o' doing
it. Mother told me that afore she
died."
your
your
sister, and will always be
sister."
For a moment there was a gleam
of joyful triumph shining in
Molly's eyes, but the next moment
they filled with tears, and she
said, almost angrily, " Yer know
I ain't fit to be Bab's sister ; I
can only go away and not let her
see me no more !"
"My girl, that is not what God
intended when He gave you such
a sweet little sister. Now listen
to me. You are not fit to be Bab's
sister just now, perhaps, and I
should scarcely like you to come
and sec her often as you are."
" Didn't I know it-didn't I tell
you so ?"
" Hear what I have to say, my
firl. You know this yourself, but
believe — I am sure — that by
God's help yon can make yourself
fit, and in this way yon will be
bottle yer got left behind.'
" Tell me about it," said Bab,
'* didn't the boat stop all day ?"
" Why, it didn't stop an hour.
Jack fold me. I went back, arter
putting you in the field, and had a
bigger sip than usual,wotmade me
sleepy, I s'pose, for I went to
sleep, and when I woke the cabin
door was shut and locked, and we
was going as fast as we could go.
I hammered and screamed, but it
worn't no good, they wouldn't let
me out till night, and then we
was miles away from here. But I
started and walked back to look
for yer next day, but nobody
hadn't seen yer in the field or seen
yer took out, and at last I went
back and found the boat agin ;
but father wotddn't let me go
aboard then, so I come off agin
and helped one and another with
the boats when I could and
begged when I couldn't till I
got here agin, and seed yer go to
that boaters' school one Monday,
and I've seed yer a gowl many
timi'B since."
" And what are you going to
do now ?" asked Bab " Yer a
fust-rate boater, Molly."
" Yes, but that ain't no good
now, and so I'm going to do
something that I can come and sue
yon sometimes."
Bab clapped her hands at this
announcement. " I am so glad."
she said, " 'cos I didn't want to go
back to the boat, Molly."
" I should think not," said
Molly. " Why, Bab, I never
thought that God could do such
things for boaters as He's done
for me and you, for yer see the
doctor's a-going to help me be
something decent now."
Of course Bab, and Molly too,
had unlimited trust in the doctor's
pov er to do " something" for
Molly, but the gentleman him-
self was puzzled to know how to
help this second water wait he
had undertaken to provide for,
and many anxious consnltutions
were held before anything suit-
able could be decided upon.
At last it was arranged that
Molly should go to the institution
for training servants, that she
might learn to do housework and
cooking, and to fit herself to take
a respectable situation by-and-by.
Mrs. Ellis told her before she went
that she would probably find the
confinement to indoor work rather
trying at first, and also the con-
forming to rules and regulations
somewhat irksome ; but Molly
declared she was willing to do or
bear anything for the sake of see-
ing Bab ; and she was as good as
her word. Mr. Ellis received an
excellent report of her conduct
after she had been there a few
months, the matron saying she
was willing to learn, truthful,
and obliging, and no one but her-
self knew what a hard battle she
had to fight to keep the rules of
the house, and always do as she
was told. But the battle was
fought and the victory won, i'or
Molly could believe now that God
cared for her, poor as she was, and
she constantly sought grace and
help from Him to do her duty.
The greatest joys of her life
were in the visits she paid to little
Bab. To go and see her sister
neatly dressed wasa pleasure look-
ed forward to by Molly through
all the working days of service ;
and Mr. and Mrs. Ellis had the
satisfaction of seeing their most
sanguine hopes fulfilled in the
after life of these water waifs.
THE END.
I Expect to pass through this
world but once, any good thing
therefore that I can do, or any
kindness that I can show to a
human being, or any word that I
can speak for the good of others
— let me do it now. Let me not
neglect it, for I shall not pass this
way again. — R. H. McDonald.
Ct
i
V-
40
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
«•
" NOBLESai? OULIUE."
I'ABBAOK
ROBIN
IN
TIIR MKK
DKVEUKUX.
or
(ChatlmlHM )
" Tli oniT noblt to !«• uoo'^-' —Tfiinumn,"
"NoblpMcObligo!"
That was yuuiiir Robin Dot-
orenx'a favourite motlo, and it was
often on his lips, beinir, as he
thou}(ht, specially suited to him-
self.
Robin was very proud of his
birth and descent ir'om a ^oodold
family, but his little sister Lily
(who was two years younger)
sometimes thou(fhtit
a doubtful benefit to
be born a llovcreux,
seeing that Iho name
seemed to entail so
much upon its
owners.
Poor Colonel l)ev-
ereux could leave his
children no inheri-
tance except an in-
convenient stock of
lamily pride, and at
his death they might
have fared badly but
for the kindness of
their father's brother-
in-law. Mr. Thorpe,
a wealthy corn-factor,
who generously took
in the poor orphans
and brought them up
with his own chil-
dren. This nrrang"-
ment was not entirely
t(i Robin's ta«te, al-
I houi;h his new home
was as ha|.py a one
HH liis uncle and
aunt's loving care,
and the merry com-
panionship of a host
ol young cousins,
rould make it. He
chiilVd and fretted at
what h« called his
humdrum life in
Laiiestniry. How
lould his uncle bear
i!'? What a prospect
ior himself and his
eldest cousin Charles!
Lessons from morn-
ing till night now ;
and when that was
.loiio with, drui;dery
oi It svorso kind iu his
nil cl u's connting
house !
" Stick to your
books, Robin," Mr.
Thtirpe would say
clieer>ily, " and some day we
sUhII find a seat in the coiintiiig-
house. for you. I don't mean to
iiittke any difference between you
1111(1 my own boys, and who knows
but that Hume day it may be
Thorpe and Dovoroux over the
ofTice-door ?'
"Thorpe, and Uevereux, corn-
lactors'" liobiii hated the
thought.
Charles Thorpe, however, who
took things in a matter-of-fact
\'. :iy, wished for nothing better
that to repeat his father's busy,
uprigiit life, and could not under-
stand his cousin's dreams for the
future. But then hu was a Thorpe
and knew no better, thouitht
Robin disdainfully, and he con-
fided to Lily his ambitious plans
of doing some grand work in the
world worthy of the name of Dov-
ereux.
His views as to the best way of
attaining this object varied from ' and
day to day, somewhat confusing
poor Lily. Now he was to be a
soldier, like his father, and carve
his way to fortune ; now he would
bo a second Warren Hastings, and
buy back the alienated familv
ready manner, betrayed his yeo-
man origin; but Itobin, tall, lithe,
and active, with Hashing eyes, was
a Uevereux all over. The cousins,
who were now both about fo:tr-
teeii, went every day to a neiarh
estates ; now ho was to go into
Parliament and become nothing
less than prime minister. ''Noblesse
oblige ! you know, Lily," he al-
ways euaedup.
But meantime, in all their
studies, Charles Thorpe wasslovv-
ly but surely getting ahead of his
more brilliant cousin, whose quick I by common rules,
wits could not make up for his S^i it seemed, for shortly after-
idleness and inattention. The ] wards Robin was found guilty ot
two boys were unlike as in ap- such a flagrant act of disobedience
pearance as in disposition. ' that his tutor not only gave him a
Charles, in his lumbering figure, severe imposition, but also made a
plain though kindly face and un- formal complaint to his uncle.
Mr. Thorpe, justly angry, con-
demned Robin lo stay in his own
room except during suhool-hours,
and bade him consider hiinselfin
disgrace until further notiue.
, ^ Tj - This imprisonment was a great
boring village about two miles hardship to the active boy, but I
distant, where they read with the ' 'on't think he felt it half so much
Vicar's son, who acted as their 'as Lily, who wandered about the
tittor. But ]{obin's love of play passage outside his door and was
high spirits were always thoroughly miserable. At first
lirinflring him into some scrape ; Robin worked hard at his task,
.tnd iilthough the good-natured but then he grew tired and rest-
Charles did his best to shield him, less, and began to cast about in his
nothing eould keep his cousin ! mind for some way out of his dis-
from frequent disgrace. In vain i grace. On the third day an idea
his aunt looked grave, and Lily joccured to him, which seemed so
very tempting that
ho carried it out the
next morning.
He rose early and
packed his school-
satchel with a few
necessaries in the
way of wearing-
apparel, adding a
lunch ofbread, which
he spared from his
breakfast. He count-
ed up his little stock
of money — eighteen
pence exactly — and
stored it safely in his
pocket. Then he
got pen and paper,
and, after the fashion
of intending run-
aways, he wrote a
few lines : —
'Dearest Lilt.
" I can't aland thii
any longer, and mean to fio
out iutu the world and
make uijr fortune like a
gentleman and a Uevereux.
Keep your apirite untilysu
aeo uie again.
" Your loving Uobin. '
By way of best
attracting notice, he
pinned this letter
with an old knife on
to his dressing-table.
As he did so his heart
sank. No thought of
the ingratitude with
which ho Was repay-
ing his uncle and
aunt's kindness dis-
turbed him. His
tenderness was all
for Lily. 'What
would she do with-
out him ? How
could ho bear to
leave her ? Well, it
was only for a little
while ; all should be
made up to Lily when
he had made his for-
gently urged that hard work and j tune Then he would come in his
steadiness now might help him to|coach-and-lour,withthe Devereux
become a great man sooner than | arms upon the panels, and bear
anything else. jLily away to live with him at Dev-
"Stufl", Lily!" he answered, ereux Court. So jolly and hap-
" It's all very well for a fellow ^py they two would be together ;
like Charles, who has no ambition, I and Lily should do just as she
but a Devereux can't be bound | liked, and always wear velvet and
satin— never less than satin.
ROBIN E8CAPINO FROM THE VAN.
. . But as he dreamed, the
hall-clock, striking eight, awoke
him to the fact that his fortune
was still unmade, and that it was
time to start for school.
The key of his door was turned S
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER"
41
ly niiijrjr, con-
Hliiy ill hii own
ly Nchool-houra,
liUvr hitnaallin
htir notice,
tint was a vreat
ilivo hoy, but I
it hnlfno much
lured tibout the
a door and waa
ib!e. At tirat
rd at hiH task,
tired and reat-
cust about in hia
r out of hia dia-
rd day an idea
lich 8t>emed ao
tiMnpting that
rrifd it out the
in the loct from the outside : he
waa at liberty for a few houra.and
Oharlea waa calling from the hall
below,—
" Make haate, Robin ! we ahnll
be late!"
" No. Oo on, old fellow ! I'll
catch you up."
Charlea aet out in hia methodical
way. Robin gave him atart
aaincient to turn the corner half-
way down the lane, and then,
catching up hia aatchel, prepared
to follow. At the top uf the ataira
atood Lilv, waiting as usual to bid
him good-bye. Robin threw an
extra amount of fervor into hia
embrace that morning, giving hia
siater, in addition, an apparently
needJeas oantion to take care of
heraelf.
Then he ran down the garden ;
but instead of following his cousin
along the winding lane to Kyne-
ton, turned short oiT, leaped a stile
upon the right, harried acroas an
intervening field into another lane
beyond, and scarcely drew breath
until he had put full two miles
between himself and Lancsbury.
Then he went more soberly, bnt
still at a brisk pace, till he heard
the wheels of some conveyance
coming along the road behind
him. Prompted by hia guilty
conscience, he acrambled up the
bank, and congratulated himaelf
upon hia precaution, when hidden,
behind the hedge at the top, he
saw his uncles dog-cart Dowl
swiftRr past below. Mr. Thorpe
himself was driving, and talking
to his companion in his usual loud
voice about harvest prospects.
The lane, so near home, was
clearly unsafe. After this ex-
perience, Robin struck into the
Relds again, and found his way
across country to a hamlnt eight
miles from Lanesbury, where he
rested and made a spare midday
meal off his lunch of bread and a
draught of imik procured at a
neighboring farm. He had no
particular plan, except to get as
far as possible from Lanesbury be-
fore beginning the process of mak-
ing his fortune. So, as the first
stage in his journey, he turned his
steps toward Horton, a large
town about thirty miles away. A
third only of the distance he walk-
ed that day, and when evening
came he spent a few of his pence
in a night's lodging at a roadside
cottage.
The next afternoon he had al-
ready walked some miles, and was
beginning to feel weary, when he
waa overtaken by the van of an it-
inerant basket-mender, which was
apparently bound in the same
direction aa hiiyself. Just as it
reached him something went
wrong with the rotten harness,
and Robin stepped forward to
help in iratting it right. In
return, the owner of the van offer-
ed him a lift, which Robin gladly
accepted, and climbed up to the
vacant outside seat The basket-
maker's wife with several small
children occupied the vacant
space inside the cart.
The pace of the old horse was
not fast, but Robin liked the rust,
andso easily got over the few more
miles between him and the next
village. Here the van was left
in charge of the tramp's wifn,
while hu himself tried to dispose
of some of the many baskets and
other rough wickur articles dang-
ling ot the aidea of the cart. Robin,
too, got down to atretoh hia legs,
and walked apart, not anxious to
betray hia connexion with the
other travellers.
As he loitored along waiting
while the basket-makers stopped
to hawk his wares at every open
door. Robin came upon a bill-
sticker pasting some notice upon
a black wall.
He had the curiosity to stop
and read one printed in large
capitals—" Twenty Pounds Re-
ward!"
It gave an accurate description
of his own person and appearance,
adding that whoever would give
information to Mr, Thorpe, of
Lanesbury, which would lead to
the safe recovery of his missing
nephew, should receive the above
mentioned sum. Robin passed
on hastily, determined to wait at
a safe distance a-h«ad for the slow
conveyance which formed his
present home. He could almost
have fancied that curious glances
were cast at him by one or two
passers-by ; but he stepped on,
bold and defiant, till he reached
the outskirts of the village.
A price upon his head !
Robin thought there was some-
thing delightfully romantic and
outlaw-like in the idea. Never-
theless, he was not sorry when he
found himself once more in the
van, safe from observation beneath
the shelter of the dangling
baskets.
Their owner netnrned in high
good-humor, after an unuauuly
Buccessfnl sale, and told Robin,
who made himself useful in Lslp-
ing to picket the horse, that
he was welcome to his supper
and night's lodging if he chose
to remain with them .. 3 quart-
ers were not exac* " Robin's
taste, but for lack oi better he
accepted the offer, and settled
himself as best he could at the
back of the van, where two or
three children were already sleep-
ing.
Robin was tired, but the novelty
and excitement of his position, to
say nothing of its discomforts,
quite chased sleep from his eyes.
He lay awake an hour or more,
listening to the murmur of talk
between the basket-maker and his
wife on the farther side of the
partition dividing the van, but at
last fell into a sort of doze, from
which he was roused by the rust-
ling of paper and the two voices
growing eager.
" Twenty pounds reward, I tell
you !" said the man's rough tones.
That's better than basket-selling.
It's him, sure enough. " Gray
suit, dark eyes, tall ana slim." I
thought all along as how he had a
high-aiiil-mii^hty look about him."
" Runaway, i 'suoai'," auid the
woman ; " though it's atranvu
that gfutk'folk born should like
our life bettor than their'n."
" Well, Uotay, first thing in the
morning we'll just turn tail, and
take him home again. It will be
n bit of charity, and worth our
while besides."
He chuckled so loudly that the
woman hushed him with a
reminder of the sleeping children;
and after this the voices grew
more subdued, ceased and finally
loud snores told that both speakers
slept.
But lon^ ere this Robin had
made up his mind. Liberty was
too sweet to lose again so soon.
Very quietly he drew on his boot*
and moving with the utmost care,
that he might not disturb the
sleepers, passed quietly through
the van door, slipped down the
steps, and vanished in the dark-
ness.
(7b be coHtinued.)
HOW OUN BARBELS ABE
MADE.
The beantiftil waved lines and
curious flower-like figures that
appear on the surface oi gun
barrels are really the lines of
welding, showing that two dif-
ferent metals — iron and steel — are
intimatelv blended in making the
finest and strongest barrels. The
process of thus welding and blend-
ing steel and iron is a very
interesting one. Flat bars or
ribbons of steel and iron are alter-
nately arranged together and
then twisted into a cable. Several
of these cables are then welded
together, and shaped into a long,
flat bar, which is next Bpirally
coiled around a hollow cylinder,
called a mandrel; after which the
edges of these spiral bars are
heated and firmly welded. The
spiral coil is now put upon what
is called a welding mandrel, is
again heated and carefully
hammered into the shape of a gnn
barrel. Next comes the cold
hammering, by which the pores
of the metal are securely closed.
The last, or finishing operation, is
to turn the barrel on a latho to
exactly its proper shape and size.
By all the twistings, weldings and
hammerings the metals are so
blended that the mass has some-
what the consistency and tough-
ness of woven steel and iron. A
barrel thus made is very hard to
burst. But the finishing ot the
inside of the barrel is an operation
requiring very great care and
skill What is called a cylinder-
bored barrel is where the bore or
hole through the barrel is made
uniform size from end to end.
A choke-bore is one that is a little
smaller at the muzzle end than it
is at the breech end. • There are
various ways of "choking" gun
barrels, but the object of all
methods is to make the gun throw
its shot close together with even
1111(1 regular distribuliuu and with
great i'orcii. —Manii/'aduref and
Builder.
TWO WAYS OF LOOKING
AT IT.
An ox, feeding, aa is the manner
of oxen, upon gross, and being
therefore of a placid nature, was
much shocked at the conduct of a
serpent of its acquaintance, when
it saw the serpent first staru at
it with its baleful eyes, and then
proceed to swallow a poor frog.
" How could you be so cruel 'i"
said the mild-eyed ox.
" My dear friend, " replied the
subtle serpent, " if the frog had
hopped one hop away from me, or
made a single croak, I would not
have eaten it for the world; but,
as you saw, it had not the slight-
est objection, and there is no injury
where there is consent."
The ox, though a thoughtful, is
not a Bwii'tly thinking, animal. It
had browsed for some time, and
the serpent had slipped away for
its noontide sleep of digestion, be-
fore the ox bethought itself oi the
reply that it might have given to
the serpent —
" Yes, fear is often mistaken, or
pretended to be mistaken, for con-
sent."
A horse who had heard the
conversation between the serpent
and the ox made a much shrewder
remark; but with the shrewdness
that is gained from suflering, he
made it in soliloquy, as is the cus-
tom with that patient creature, the
horse —
"That is the way with my
master; because I am silent he
thinks, or pretends to think, like
that hypocrite of a serpent, that I
do not suffer when he is cruel to
me."—Breria.
ADVANTAaK OF LEARNING A
Trade. — The advice of Benjamin
Franklin, to give every child a
trade by which he can earn a
living, if necessary, comes of a
human experience older than his.
In some countries this has been
the law ; in others a common
custom. St. Paul, though educated
in the law at the feet of Qamaliel,
also acquired the important
Oriental handicraft of a tentmaker,
by which he was able to earn his
living while prosecuting his
mission. It is a good and wise
thing to do. You may be able to
leave your children fortunes ; bnt
"riches take to themselves wings."
You may give them finished
educations, and they may be ^ft-
ed with extraordinary genius;
but they may be placed in
situations where no education and
no talent may be so available as
some humble, honest trade, by
which they can set their Ining
and be useful to oUiers. — Ex.
Purity, sincerity, obedience
and self-surrender, are the marbLa
steps that lead to the spiritual
temple.
' ' 11 v/
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NOUTIIKKN MESSENGER."
■•H©|j|.»ff
NOBLRSSE OBLIOE"
A PAMHAHK IN THE I.IKK OP
KOBIN DKVEKKUX.
{Vkall0rku )
" Tl> only nobi* to Im %t3oA:' - Tii*hv*^»."
Chapter II.
It ii not difiicalt to ima^ne tho
tensation which Robin'i tlight
cansed at Laneabnry. Poor Lily
waa heartbroken at his desertion,
and, aa the days went on and
brought no tidings of him, pined
so much that her kind atint was
quite concerned. Charles, too.
with hare fan> nn<l poor lod^in^ ;
from which it will bostion hn huti
not as yi't tnadw much progress
on his rood to tortune,
Then there caino a time wlien
work, oven of the humbittst kind,
waa not always plentiful. Hut
the dull days of Novombor found
ly vvi
1(1 liar
hild hud ilark i'Vi'n, and long lair
curls strnyi'd Iroiu under her
pretty white but. Hoinuthing in
the little miiidin'M kind glunne of
iiiloreNt ruiaindod Kobiii of Lily
and he Bi|{hed.
When they returmd, there stood
him hopeful still. Rxpectaiit of Robin wailing nt tho hothouse
better things, ho was now work- door, with a haudlul of rhrysan
Dg for a time with a florist and
market-gardener named Slrupp.
Robin was active and industrious.
He and his worthy master got on
well together for two or three
weeks, which were prosperous
tliough he said little, missed hui i days with Robin At tho end of
constant companion. I that time Mr. Strupp's son finished
Mr. Thorpe had
langhed at first, pro*
phesying that the run-
away would be back in
a day or two, ashamed
and crestfallen, and he
consented reluctantly to
his wife's wish of taking
steps for his recovery.
But when the offered
reward brought no
result, and the truant
did not return, he grew
angry, declaring that
Robin was an ungrate-
ful rascal, whose name
he never wished to hear
again.
By degrees the chil-
dren forgot their merry
cousin, and ceased to
miss him in their
games : only Lily could
not forget. The pi ay-
hours, which Robin had
made so pleasant, were
wearisome to her now.
She did not speak much
of him, but her heart
was wearying for her
brother, and all
Charles's clumsy,
though well-meant,
etforts to till his place
could not console her.
Night and morning she
would steal out into the
porch, and look round
wistfully, half hoping to
see Robin come whist-
ling across the meadows,
as he used to do. Alas !
she was always dis-
appointed.
The hay was carried
and stacked ; the corn
sprang, and ripened, and
fell beneath the reaper's
sickle ; but Robin never
came. And Lily grew _ ' . • i >.
paler and paler, droop- " ■
ing day by day with the sickneu some work he had undertaken at
themums arranged with dark
evergreen loaves. These he olfer-
ed to tho little girl, raising his cap
respectlnlly. The child look
pleased, and the lady thanked I
graciously.
'' A good-looking lad, uud well-
mannered," she said to herself.
THE LAIIDLASY DEUAMDINO HEB B£NT,
of hope deferred, till she seemed
more than ever like her lowly
namesake, the lily ot the valley.
Meantime Robin, the object of
so much care, tared passably well
through the pleasant summer
weeks, enjoying the fri^e out-door
life, and feelmK like some merry
outlaw of the olden time. In hay
and harvest season the farmers
were often short of hands, and
Robin managed in a pleasant way
«|a to earn enough to keep himself,
i I though he must needs live hardly.
a distance, and returned to help
his father , and then Robin's
services were no longer needed.
On the last aay of his work with
the old gardener, it happened that
a lady with a little girl came to
speak to Robin's master about
some shrubs which she wished
transplanted, and before leaving
he walked through the hothouses,
as was usual, with his customers.
The little daughter, warmly wrap-
ped in cosy fur, followed behind,
and passed close to Robin as he
Then, as she lingered admiring
this and that in the ordinary
garden,a thought seemed to strike
her. She turned, and spoke a few
words to Mr. Strupp in a low
voice.
Robin could not catch wnatshe
said, but he heard the answer in
the old gardener's louder tones :
" Yes, my lady. He's a good
lad. He leaves me to-night ; and
no doubt but he'd be thankful for
such a chance."
The ladies had almost reached the
garden-gate ; but at this the elder
turned back, and called Robin
who came up wondering
" What is your name, my
boyy
" Robin," he answered simply
" Well then, Robin, I hear that
youi work with Mr strupp is
iinishcd, and perhaps you may
like a chance of bettering your-
self t I am pleased with yonr
manner .tnd appearance.' (Robin
wondered what was coming.
Would she offer to adopt him, as
"^ple did in books, and take him
: to a life of luxury again V)
.dy present page isleavinv m»,"
the lady went on. " I will take
you in his place, and with a little
traininv you will do
well. Your work would
be easy — to run errands
and wait on my daugh-
ter, to wash my poodles
and take them out for
exercise. How should
you like to live with me,
and wear a suit of livery
like that V" with a wave
of the hand towards the
boy in buttons who
stood at her carriage-
door.
Poor Robin ! What
a climax alter his am-
bitions hopes ! All the
blood of tho Devereux
welled up, and died his
face crimson, and he
stood there, speechless
with shame. Buttons !
A Devereux in bottons I
" Of course it would
be a rise in life for you ;
but I hear you are a
good boT, and would
deserve it," continued
the visitor, kindly.
But Robin could
bear no more.
" Thanks, my lady ;
it wouldn't suit mo," he
managed to stammer
out. And rushing away
to the farthest corner of
the garden, he gave way
to his long pent-up feel-
ings, and watered the
asparagus beds with
Hoods of tears.
Robin's misery ttad
reached its crowning-
point. Somehow this
last experience damped
his ardour more than
all which had gone be-
fore. Weary and dis-
pirited, he went about
seeking work in vain.
The remnants of his
earnings dwindled away.
poor ,-
His clothes had become ragged
and threadbare : yet he could not
replace them, for tJiie lew shillings
he now and then earned by a
chance job scarcely sufficed to
buy him food and shelter. Often
in these days Robin knew what it
was to feel both cold and hungry,
and at such times so^nething
familiar would come into his head
about a home where was " bread
enough and to spare ; " and, like
another poor prodigal long ago,
he thought regretfully of his lost
II \l
m-*^
$
n
•H®
salleU U<ibin
iiamt>, my
irered ■imply
II, I hoar that
!r Htrupp in
ip» vou may
tteriiiif your-
J with yoar
ICO.'' (liobiii
I'M cominif.
idopt him, aa
aud take him
nry again V)
ileaviiiKm»,"
' I will take
1 with a littli^
'oa will do
r work would
irnn errand*
n my daueh-
li my poodlea
hem cat for
Howahould
live with mc,
•uit of livery
' with a wave
I towards the
inttona who
ler carriage-
>bin ! What
niU'r hia am-
>e8 ! All the
he Devereux
and died hia
Bon, and he
e, apeechlcER
e. Buttons!
,z in bottons !
irae it would
. life for you ;
ir you are a
and would
continued
kindly.
obin could
ire.
ray lady ;
suit mo," he
tu stammer
nshingaway
est corner of
he gave way
pent-up feel-
watered the
beds with
Etrs.
misery had
crowning-
mehow this
nee damped
more than
ad gone be-
ry and dis-
went about
ik in vain.
nts of hia
died away.
ome ragged
he could not
cw shillings
arned by a
sufficed to
slter. Ofton
new what it
and hungry,
BO.nothing
nio his head
was " bread
" and,liko
1 lona; ago,
y of his lost
^
l\
^Ht
V
*' IP' hleMingt Yet he could not bring
bimtelf to go back and humbly
own hia failure. Ho could never
bear to meet bit uncle's ■oora, his
auut's reproaches.
80 Robin went out again into
the streets, uid made one more
attempt to find work, no mutter
how bumble He otTered himself
i\» errand-boy and baker's lad ; he
I'ven looked enviously at a cross-
ing-sweeper
But boys seemed plentiful and
labor scarce. There was no place
in all the bustling town for Robin.
He went bsck to his wretched
lodging in a back-lane ; bufatthe
door liis landla<ly waited to
demand his week'* rent
before admitting him. She
had th« chance of a lodger
willing to pay sixpence a-
week more than Robin.
Under these oircumslancoa
iiU his petitions for delay
were of no use. He must
pay or go. So he went.
Whither?
Ah! that was the ques-
tion. He was sick of the
hard, cruel town, and the
indifferent faces all turned
coldly upon him. He felt
in his pockets, and finding
a few pence there, ha
renolved with a sudden
impulse to apend them on
a third-class ticket to Lauei-
bury Junction.
(7b be conlintied.)
UKI'RINTKI) STOUIKS. KHOM THE
Old record*! say that thimbles
were first worn on the thumbs ;
bnt we can scarcely conceive how
thoy could bo of inu' li use tht<re.
Formerly they were made of briiss
and iron only, but of late years
steel, silver, gold, horn, ivory, and
oven pearl and glass have all been
used for making thimbles. I saw
some very buautilul ones in China
that were eiquisitely carvod of
pearl and bound with gold and
the end also uf gold. Theiio pearl
thimbles are quite as costly and
far prettier than those made
entirely of gold. A thim-
ble owned by the queen
I consort of 8iaa M shaped uke a
NOWIHKRN MK.S«KN(JKR.
thinibl>!«, composed of lava from
Mount Veivuvius, aro occasionally
sold, bnt rather as curiosities than
for real Htllily, bi mg, froiu the
extrvmo bnttlouess of the lava.
CHIP
43
thimble Is then trimmed, polished
nnd indented arouixl iln .mtor
surface with tiny holes It is
next converted into steel by a
process called cementation, tncn
very easily broken. I hear also | ti>mnered, sconred and brought to
of thimbles made of asphaltum a blue color. After til this is
from the Dead 8oa, and of one | completed, a thin sheet of gold is
composed of a fragment of the old introduced into the interior and
elm tree at Cambridge, Mass., fastened to the steel by a mandrel,
under which OeneralWanhington while gold leaf is attached Hrmly
stood when taking couund of the by pressure to the outside, the
edges being seamed in a small
groove made to receive them.
This completes the thimble that
will last for years. The steel
used in its construction will
scarcely wear out in a long life-
time, and the gold, ifworn
away, is easily replaced.—
Dorcai Magatint,
United States Army in July, 1776,
but I do not suppose that any of
these were ever intended to be
used in sowing. In the ordinary
manufacturo of gold and silver
thimbles thin plalue of the metal
AND
A NOBLE DOO
CANARY.
A lady had a pet canary,
while her brother was
the owner of a retriever
that was also much petted.
( )ne day the canary escaped
from the house, and was
seen flying about the
grounds for a few days, and
when it perched it waa
generally on high elm-
trees. At last it vanished
from view, and this dear
little pet was mourned for
lis lost or dead. But alter
the interval of another day
or so the retriever came in
with the canary in hia
montlb carrying it most
delicately, and went up to
the owner ot the bird,
delivering it into her hands
without even the feathers
bein^ injured. Surely
iiothmg cop.Id illustrate
more beautifully faithful
love and gentleness in a dog than
this.
WEALTH IN THE SEA.
Seldom or never has the
enormous importance of
the harvest of the s<ia been
more forcibly represented
than it was the other day
by Prof. Huxley, in the
address which he delu'ered
at the International Fish-
eries Exhibition. An acre
of good fishing ground, he
pointed out, will yield
more food in a week than
an acre of ihe best land will
in a year. Still more vivid
was his picture of the
moving " mountain of
cod," 120 to 130 feet in
height, which for two
months in every year
moves westward and south-
ward, past the Norwegian
coast. Every square mile
of this colossal column of
fish contains 120 millions
of fish, consuming every
week, when on short
rations, no fewer than 840
millions of herrings. The
whole catch of the Nor-
wegian fisheries nerer ex-
ceeds in a year more than
half a square mile of this
" cod mountain," and one
week's supply of the her-
rings needed to keep that
area of cod from starving.
London might be victualled
with herrings for a year
on a day's consumption of
the countless shoals of un-
caught cod.
TBIE BETRIGVER
THE THIMBLE.
The thimble is a Dutch in-
vention that was first brought to
England in 1695 by one John
Lofting, who began ita manufac-
ture at Islington near London,
gaining thereby both honor and
profit Ita name waa derived
from the worda thumb and bell,
^ being for a long time called
\ \ thamblo, and only lately thimble.
AA,aA
lotus bnd, this being the royal
flower of that country, and almost
everything about the court bear-
ing, in a greater or less degree,
some impress of the lotus. This
thimble is of gold, thickly studded
with diamonds tbat are so arrang-
ed as to form the lady's name and
the date of her marriage. It was
a bridal gift from the king, who,
having seen the English and
American ladies at his court using
thimbles, took this method of
introducing them among his own
people. In Naples very pretty
SAVING THE CANARY.
The Birbs, large and
small, held a meeting when
are introduced into the die and; the autumn winds began to
then punched into shape. But in bluster ; and this is the way the
Paris the French have a way of meeting ended :
their own, quite different from
ours, for nii\king gold thimbles
that are said to be much more
durable than those made in the
usual way. Pieces of very thin
sheet-iron are cut into disks of
about two inches in diameter.
These, after being heated to red-
ness, are struck by means of a
punch into a succession of holes
of a gradually increasing depth,
to give the proper shape. The
The owl this question put,— "Say * Ay'
Thow) who intend away to fly ;'*
All but the sparrows votfl to ffo,
TheM chirp a most decided "No."
" *ris carried."8aid the owl, "Adieu."
The birds cry, " Now for skieaof blue."
"Go," chirped the sparrows, "why thia fuss?
Our borne is good eaousch for ua,"
If You would create some-
thing, you must be something. —
Ooethe.
-m
■^
T 44
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
4
"N0BLES8B OBLIGE."
A PA8SAOB IN THK LIFE OV
ROBIN UEVKBBTJX.
" Tlf OBlj nobU lo b« nod."— r«HnvioN,"
OhaPTIB II.— CoM(tN»«ef.
No one was at all likely to
reoogniae Mr. Thorpe's nephew in
the ragged, way-worn traveller
umerged in the winter's doak of
that same afternoon fVom the
crowded janction, which. was the
nearest station to Lauesbnr^.
There la^ fire miles still be-
tween Robin and home, if home
ho dared call it Tired as he was
he began mechani-
cally to walk towards
Lanesbury. He had
no definite pur-
pose except to see
once more the fami-
liar faces — his kind
aunt, Obarles, above
all, Lilv, poor Lily,
who loved him,
whom he had desert-
ed
He had walked
many miles since
morning; his over-
w r a g h t powers
seemed failing him ;
and he was so
hungry. But as he
went the hunger
passed ofiT, leaving
only a feeling of
faintness and ex-
haustion. What if
he were to drop by
the roadside this bit-
ter evening, and fall
asleep, and be frozen
to death ? He could
not get mnch further
— so weary he was,
so faint, so cold ; but
now the twinkliug
lights of Lanesbury
piercing the dusk,
seemed to bid him
take courage. The
Ddvereuxes of the
other days had borne
fargreater harlships.
He would not give
up yet. And so a
half-hour later found
him in Lanesbury
High Stroet,within a
quarter of a mile of
liis uncle's house.
He took tbe fami-
liar turn he knew so
well.over tbe bridge,
along the lane, across
the fleldx. The new-mown hay
was nia. ng the June air fragrant
when he last came that way ; but
now the ground was white with
snow, and the old church bells
were ringing their Christmas
chimes.
It was Ghristmas-ero.
The faot dawned on Robin as a
surprise; he had lost count of
weeks and days, lately, when all
were alike miserable. And this
year there had been nothing to
remind him of Christmas ; but in
the great ugly, comfortable house
Tonder, the lights were gleaming
brightly, as oecame the season.
Robin conld imagine the happy
gronr ikssembled around the fire.
In the cold anddufkaesshe crept
safely and secretly throngh the
dasky shrubbery up to the very
house itself. Just then the click
of the garden-gate startled him,
and looking around he espied a
troop of dark figures coming up
the avenue. There were perhaps
a dozen or more of them. Robin
stole aside quietly, and hiding
himself among a clump of lanre^.s
watched their proceedings.
The intruders— in whom he
soon recognised the church choir
" Well sung, lads ! and thank
you. If you will go round to the
back door, the housekeeper shall
give yon tea and cake with a
shilling a-piece to carry home
with you. A merry Christmas to
yon all !"
" The same to you and yours,
sir, and thank yon kindly," came
the ready response, as the party
trooped off.
Warm tea and cake ! How
tantalising the words sounded to
poor Bobin, faint with his long
fast ! He would fain have follow*
ed, and shared the boys' meal :
but pride forbade him to take his
unole'scharity without his forgive-
ROBIN PEKPINO IN AT THE WINDOW.
— look up their position in front
of the parlor-window, and in a
moment more the simple strains
of a Christmas carol were ringing
through the frosty air. How
peaoefally the words tell on
Robin's aching heart ! Then came
one or two other well-known airs,
ending with the Christmas hymn,
which touched Robin strangely.
At the end the parlor window
was thrown opon, the curtains
undrawn, and Mv. Thorpe appear-
ed, crying onu in his hearty
voice, —
n«S8. The window was closed
iiow.bntthe curtains remained nu'
drawn, for a streak of light stream'
ed out upon the lawn. Cautiously
and quietly Robin stole up like
some midnight thief until he stood
close under the window. Keep-
ing well to one side he found a
foothold upon the tough trunks of
the ivy covering the nouse-front,
and raised himself to a level with
the sill.
Other Robins, he well knew,
were made welcome at that win-
dow; fragments of their abundant
morning-meal Jay yet scattered
upon its threshold; but not a robin
of them all wasmoredesolate.more
famished,moreutterlyforlorn,than
he. With a beating heart he peep-
ed in at the window. There,on one
side of the fireplace, sat his uncle ;
and round the table were gathered
the little ones, laughing merrily
over some round game. Charles,
as usual, sat with his book near
the fireside ; and Lily Was
Lily one of the players? No,
She sat at her aunt's feet, at the
other side of the chimney-piece,
looking gravely into thefire. Now
and then Mrs. Thorpe would
bend down and lay a hand kindly
on Lily 's head.
Perhaps she guessed
something of her
thoughts that even-
ing.
Robin, the poor
outoasi, looked on at
all with hungry eyes,
yearning for a crumb
of love. He felt that
he must get speech
of Lily, have one
kind word before he
went forth again into
the dreary, pitiless
world; and looking
more intently, he
seemed to see some
change in Lily as
she turned her face
now and again
towards her merry
cousins. She was
thinner, surely ,
paler. Was she
grieving for him ?
Ah, poor Lily ! tie
must see Lily for one
moment before he
went. But the night
was so cold— so cold;
and Bobin was get-
ting numb ana
cramped, and bis
eyea were dim with
sleep.
Just then he miss-
ed Lily from her
place by tbe fireside :
she had stolen softly
from the room. His
chief attraction was
gone, and Robin slip-
ped gentiy to the
ground.
Ha! What was
that noise ?
He started
ne rvousiy, and
shrank back into the
deep shadow of the
porch, as the hall-door gently
opened and let a small, mufiied-
up figure out into the starlit nighi
It descended to the lov 'est step.
and there paused, looking round
right and left with intent, wiBtl'ul
gaze; but not finding what it
sought, it drew back sorrow lull v,
with a long-drawn sigh, "()h,
Robin ! Robin !'
Robin in his hiding-place heard,
and could bear it no longer. He
stole out, and laid a hand upon
his sister's arm.
" I am here, Lily," he said.
m-
•m
w \i
^
et aoattered
t not a robin
isolate.more
forlorn.than
larthepeep*
'here, on one
it his uncle;
)re gathered
Ing merrily
». Charles,
I book near
ly Was
lyers? No.
feet, at the
mney-piece,
lefire. Now
>rpe wonld
band kindly
y 's head,
she guessed
g of her
that even-
the poor
looked on at
tnngry eyes.
foracrnmh
He felt that
get speech
, hare one
rd before he
th again into
iry, pitiless
and looking
itently, he
to see some
in Lily as
led her face
and again
her merry
She was
er, surely ,
Was she
for htm ?
Lily! He
) Lily for one
before he
Bat the night
old— so cold;
Nn was get-
mmb ana
and his
e dim with
len he miss-
from her
the fireside :
stolen softly
room. His
taction was
Robin slip-
itly to the
What was
|e?
started
nsly, and
ack into the
dow of the
loor gently
ill, muflled-
itarlit night
lo\'est stop,
king Touiul
ent, wistful
g what It
lorrowluilr,
sigh, "Ob,
>laoe heard,
onger. He
hand upon
!;
f
m
he
Zi
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE « NORTHERN MESSENGER."
9hm
46
ROttly. "Hash! Don't tell any
one."
Bat as thongh it were the most
iiataral thing in the world to see
him there, Luy attered a jorful
little cry, and clasped him close,
and kissed him, and drewhim in
across the threshold, ricrht into
the warm hall, poor, cold little
wanderer !
" He has come back !" she cried,
joyfully " Robin has come back
at last !"
The parlor-door flew open at
the cry, and all carae harrying out.
Robin penitent and ashamed, hid
his heaid on Lily's shoalder, and
could not face them.
Bat Lily interpreted his
silence.
" Oh, ancle — aunt—forgive
him ! I know he is sorry, poor
Robin !'"
" What, Robin ! You have not
made your fortune then?" cried
his uncle.
But the kind aunt came for-
ward, p.nd patted his head.
" Robin has been very wrong
and foolish ; bat we most forget
and forgive ' at Ohristmas-time,"
she said pleasantly ; " He will be
wiser in future."
And then she led him in to the
cheerful fireside, and warmed his
numbed hands, and brought him
food and drink, until soothed by
all her care and kindness, Robin
at last forgot his troubles in a long
and dreamless sleep.
* * * * * * * *
Robin's place in the family cir-
cle remained empty many weeks
yet. Sometimes the anxious
watchers by his bedside wonder
«d sadly would it ever be
tilled up again. The weariness
and exposure of that Christmas
Eve, and the hard days which had
gone before it, brought on an
attack of low fever, which was
slow in yielding to the good
nursing he received.
One day when he was slowly
recovering, being already promot-
ed from bed to an easy-chair in
his room, Lily, who was always
devising something to give him
pleasure, brought him a card-
board scroll, on which she had il-
luminated the words, "Noblesse
oblige."
Qreat was her disappointment
when Robin, usoally so grateful,
pushed it away from him, saying
almost impatiently, " Oh, no, Lilv!
I never want to hear those words
again. They are the cause of all
my misfortunes."
Lily was humbly :etreating
with the despised present, when
her uncle, who was just entering
and had overheard Robin's speech,
etopped her
"Nay, Robin," he said, kindly,
"the little maid meant well; and
the words" (taking the scroll from
Lily) " are good words, as I under-
stand them. The inheritance of
A noble name from good, and wise,
und brave fertfathers, does oblige
n man to take care and keep it
untarnished; but doing with
^M
might and main whatever work
comes to your hand won't soil it.
You despise trade, my boy ; yet
honest barter of one man's goods
for another man's money is no
shame. It's the mean tricks,
and double-dealing, and craspiuff
avarice of those who wilt be rich
at any cosi which degrade and
debase. Deal honorably, Robin.
Let vonr word be as good as your
bond ; and whatever your calling
in life may be, never fear that yon
will disgrace the name of Deve-
reui.
THE END.
LITTLE JAPANESE.
Here is something interesting I
found about the habits and dress
of the children in Japan. In the
Japanese children is the same as
that of an adult. The sleeves are
open on the inner edge, with a
pocket on the outer side. Thedress
is very simple, easy av.d free, with
tucks to let down as the child
grows,so that,as the fashions never
change and the dross is made of
strong silk brocade, or silk and
cotton, it will last from ten to
twenty years.
The children's shoes are made
of blocks of wood, secured with
cord. The stocking resembles a
mitten,having a separate place for
the great toe. As these bhoes are
lifted only by the toes, the heels
make a rattling sound as their
owner's walk, which is qaite stun-
ning in a crowd. They are not
worn in the house, as they would
OUTLINE DRAWINd LESSON KOE THE TOUNO,
(B.y Harrison Weir.)
first place the character of the
Japanese houses saves much
trouble about children. There
are no stairs to tumble down, no
furniture for them to tumble
over, no sticky food with which
to bedaub themselves. So there
is seldom need to reprove them.
They are rarely heard to cry ; but
when they do break forth, they
make a tremendous racket, yelling
with great fierceness. In his
travels through the country. Prof.
Morse only once saw boys fight-
ing ; and then they wore only slap-
ping aach other. The dress of the
ininre the soft straw mats with
which the floor is covered. The
Japanese shoe gives perfect free-
dom to the foot. The beauty of
the human foot is only seen in the
Japanese. They have no corns,
no ingrowing nails, no distorted
joints. Our children's toes are
cramped until they are deformed,
and are in danger of extinction.
The Japanese have the full use of
their toes, and to them they are
almost like fingers.
The babies are taken care of on
the backs of the older children,
to which they are fastened by
loose bands. Yon wil ! see a dozen
little girls with babies' asleep on
their backs, engaged in playing
battledore, the l>abies hetuis bob-
bing up and down. This is
better than crying in the
cradle. The baby sees eveiytuing,
goes everywhere, gets plenty of
pure air ; and the sister who
carries itgots her shoulders braced
back and doubtleRS come lessons
of patience. Itisfitnny tosee the
little tots, when they fgin to run
alone, carrying their doi. on their
back.
Where we have one toy the
Japanese have athousand. Every-
thing in art and nature is imitated
in miniature. Toys can be bought
for half a cent, and elegant ones
for eight or ten cents. There are
stands on the streets kept by old
women, where little girls can buy
a spoonful of batter and bake their
own top cakes. Then, along comes
a man with a long bucketful of
soap suds, of which he sells a cup-
ful for the hundredth part of a
cent (they have coins as small as
that;, to children who blow soap
bubbles through bamboo reeds.
The babies make mud pius and
play at keeping house just as ours
do. They are taught always to
be polite, and say, " Thank you."
If you give a child a penny, he
will not only thank you at the
time but whenever he meets you
again. — Ex.
I
BCiYS,
READ AND
THIS.
HEED
Many people seem to forget that
character grows : that it "is not
something to put on ready-made
with womanhood or manhood ;
but day by day, here a little, and
there a little, grows with the
growth, and strengthens with the
strength, until, good or bad, it be-
comes almost a coat of mail. Look
at a man of business — prompt,
reliable, conscientious, yet clear-
headed and energetic. When do
you suppose he developed all
those admirable qualities ? When
he was a boy ? Let us see how a
boy of ten years gets np in the
morning, works, plays, studies,
and we will tell you just what
kind of a man he will make. Tho
boy that is too late at breakfast,
late at school, stands a poor
chance to be a prompt man. The
boy who neglects his duties, be
they ever so small, and then
excuses himself by saying: "I
forgot; I didn't think!" will never
be a reliable man ; and tho boy
who fiiidspleasure in tho suffering
of weaker things will never be a
noble, generous, kind man — a
gentleman. If people wore more
carefulof their character than they
are of their reputation, thev would
soon be more pleasing to (iod and
more useful to their fellow-aian,T—
S. S. Messenger. ,|, j „j:.^...
In private, watch your thoughts;
in the family, watch your temper ,
in company, watch your tongue.
.^1.
.1
46
I THE FOBCBPS CRAB.
Tho strange looking cieatnre
ropresented in the accompanyinff
engraving, aays VTood's " Natural
History," is a good swimmer. It
roams the ocean as freely as a bird
roams the air, shooting through
the waves with arrowv swiftness
in chase of prey, gliding easily
along jnst below the snrface, hang-
ing snsiMjnded in the water while
reposing, or occasionally lying
across some floating eeaweed.
The chief pecnJiarity of the
forceps crab is the structure from
which its name is derived, the
wonderful length of the first pair
of limbs, and the attenuated for*
ceps with which they are armed.
Though not possessing the for-
midable power with wliioh some
crabs are armed, the forceps crab
is y«t a terrible enemy to the in-
habitants of the sea, for itcan dart
out its long claws with a rapidity
that almost eludes the eye, and
grasp its prey with unerring
aim.
No one who has not watched
the crabs in their full vigor
while enjoying their freedom,
can form any conception of
the many uses to which the
claws are put. Their bony
armor, with its powerful joints
appears to preclude all delicac)
of touch or range of distinc
tion, and yet the claws are to
the crab what the proboscis is
to the elephant. With these
apparently inadequato mem-
bers the crab can pick up the
smallest object with perfec-
tion and precision, can tear in
pieces the toughest animal
substances, or crack the skull
of other cinstaceans as a par
rot cracks a nut in his beak
It can direct them to almost
ovary part of his body, can
snap with them like the quick
sharp bite of a wolf, or can
strike with their edses as a
boxer strikes with his fists.
As may be seen by reference
to the engraving the paddle
legs are broad and well de-
veloped, so as to insure speed, the
front of the carapace is sharply
and deeply serrated, and the sides
are drawn out into long pointed
spines. It is a native of the West
Indian seas, and is represented
about the size of an ordinary
specimen.
REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
but he came home one dby, at last,
and said :
" Mother, I've got a place."
"What sort of a plac«?" asked
his mother.
factory," said Dick
mother shook her
"In the
cheerfully.
But the
head.
"I don't half like it my boy,"
she said. " They are dangerous
places, these factories. Some day
you'll be going to near the big
wheels, or the bands, or some-
thing, and then — "
She stopped and shuddered;
but Dick only laughed.
" Well, what then, mother ?" he
said. " What do you think is go-
ing to happen to a fellow with a
cool head and a steady hand ? Al-
most all the accidents that you
hear of happen because the peo-
ple are careless, or because they
get frightened, and don't know
what they are about ? I'm not
By the time he had been there
for a month or two, he had for-
gotten all about the danger, and
even his mother began to think
that he was as. safe there as in his
own house.
That is always . the way when
you are used to things, you know.
People who live under the shadow
of a volcano forget that the burn-
ing lava ever streams down its
sides and desolates the country
around. Some day it does so,
though, and sometimes accidents
happen even to the most confident
boy.
Was Diok careless that day ? I
don't know, and neither did he.
He thought that he was doing his
work as steadily and as carefully
as usual; but suddenly he felt
something — just a lit ^itch at
his sleeve ; nothing i .1 to mind
if you are playing ^-ith your
school-mates, but then Dick was
not playing with his school-mates.
II
PRESENCE OF MIND.
This is a true story, about a real
lioy. The boy's name is Dick.
This is not a very uncommon
name, and his last name is not an
uncommon one either. I am not
going to tell you what it is though,
for perhaps he would not like
it.
Dick's father died when his son
was jnst able to toddle. After a
while Dick grew to be a pretty
big boy. Then he began to be
anxious to get something to do to
help his mother. It was a good
while before he found anything ;
FOBCEPS 8WIMHINU c&jLB.-'(Lupa forcepy)
going to be careless and I'm not There was no one near enough to
going to get frightened. And
mother, even if anything very
bad did happen to me, I shouiid
be doing my duty, shouldn't I ?
You wouldn't have a great fellow
like me staying around here idle
for fear of getting into danger,
would you ?"
" Well, no, I suppose not," said
his mother, remembering what a
bad thing idleness is for anybody,
and how surely it leads boys,
as well as men, into mischief
So the next day Dick was at
his post in the factory. I cannot
tell what sort of a factory it was,
nor exactly what he had to do
there. Nobody ever told me that
part of it. All I know is that he
spent tho days among the great,
whirring machinery, and that he
did his work steadily and well,
in spite of noise, and confusion,
and dust, and fatigue, and dan-
ger
give him that twitch.and he know
in an instant what it meant — that
the fingers that gripped him
were iron fingers, and that the
pulse that beat in thom was
the cruel, merciless pulse of
steam.
Most boys would at least have
looked around in sudden surprise
— would have yielded for a mo-
ment to the twitch and then — tho
horror, and agony, and death.
What did Dick do? Quick as a
flash the thought came :
" I am caughtin the machinery
I can't help that, but I
drawn in. I won't ! I won't ! I
WON'T ! "
It was hardly a thought, you
know, only a swift, wordless in-
stinct. Then he set his teeth, and
clenched his fists, and braced
every nerve and muscle to stand
like a rock, while the machinery
did its work.
" Crack ! crack !"
That was his shirt, pulled 08
him like tho husk of an ear of
corn.
"Crack! crack!"
That was his merino shirt, and
Dick stood rigid and motionless
still, with not an atom of clothing
from his waist up.
The men around him had not
been so quiet as he, yon may bo
sure. There had l>een shrieks
and cries enough when they saw
what had happened, but the ma-
chinerjr could not be stopped all
in a minute let the engineer try
as he would.
It seemed a century to the men
though it was only three or four
minutes before the great wheels
shivered and stood still. Some of
the men had covered their eyes,
fearing to see— what? Splashes
of blood on the floor and walls,
and a horrible, mangled mass,
tangled and brok.<n m an iron
grip-
What did thor a who dared
to look see ? Only a curly
haired, bright-eyed boy, who
looked around at them as
quietly and boldly as if no-
tning at all had happened.
Why Smith," said Dick,
looking at the man nearest
him, "now pale you are ! And
Jones is trembling like a leaf,
and Brown can hardly stand !
Why I'm the best off of you all
— if I haven't got many clothes
left," he added, as he looked
down at himself. "If some-
body will lend me a coat, I
think I'd better gu home and
g^t another shirt.
*****
" So you see, mother," said
Dick, " what I told you is true.
If a fellow's head is cool, and
his nerves steady, there isn't
much fear for him. And the
good Lord keeps watch in
the factories as well as out-
side.
Now, what I want yon to
notice about this story is this :
It was not Dick's good luck
that saved him, but simply his
courage and presence of mind.
If he had yielded for one instant
to the grip of the machinery— if
he had hesitated for a moment
what to do — that moment would
have been his last.
Don't you think that there is a
lesson in all this, if you t^e it
the right way 1— Central Ckritlia*
Advocate.
•H9
It is the habitual thought that
frames itself into our life. It af-
fects us even more than our inti-
_^_ Tiate social relations do. Onrcon-
won't'^e 'id^'tii*'} friends have not so much
to do in shaping our lives as tho
thoughts have which we harbor.
—J.W. Teal.
Conduct is the great profession.
Behavior is the perpetual reveal-
ing of us. What a man does tells
us what he is.— F. O. Hunting-
ton,
n
«H9IP
r
*^
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
47
BUTTONS.
"Button, button, who has the
button ?" asked a glove that had
been dropped on the toilet-
table.
" I've got it," answered Jimmy's
jacket. " I've several buttons in
fact."
" No," put in the closet door, " I
have it myself; the carpenter gave
it to me."
" I had a dozen or so," said a
boot, looking rather down at the
heel.
"And I have a hundred or
more," yawned the easy-chair,
•' but they don't button anything ;
they don't belong to the working
class."
"Here's a bachelor's button,"
remarked a vase of flowers on the
bureau.
" There's a button-wood tree in
the garden," said the button-
hooker. " I suppose you all grew
there."
" I know better than that,"pout
ed the closet-door " Mine grew
in the veins of the earth, where
all the precious metals are found
It's a poor relation of theirs."
"And we," added a pair of
ivory sleeve-buttons, " we grew
in the land of the white elephant.
We were carved from the tusks of
the leader, who threaded the
jungles and swam the rivers at
the head of his troops."
" My buttons," said the glove,
" were nearly related to the gem
which Oleopatra dissolved for
Antony. They were mother-of-
pearl, grown in the shell of the
pearl oyster, for which divers risk
their lives."
" That's something of a fish
story," thought Jimmy's jacket.
" My buttons are only glass ; but
glass is sometimes made of sand,
and who knows but their atoms
may have been swept down to
the sea-shore from ■ farthest
India?'"
"And I," wUspered the
bachelor's button, " I sprang from
a tiny seed, with all my uplendor
of blue and purple wings, like the
Afrite from the jar which the
fisherman found on the beach. It
is a miracle how I was packed
away there V'—St. yicholas.
"DIDN'T I. DAN?"
" Jimmy, have you watered my
horse this morning ?"
" Yes, ancle, I watered him ;
didn't I, Dan ?" he added, turning
to his younger brother.
" Of coarse you did," responded
Dan.
The gentleman looked at the
boys a moment, wondering a
little at Jimmy's words ; then he
rode away.
This was Mr. Harley's first vis..
with his nephews, and thus far he
had been pleased with their
bright, intelligent faces and kind
behavior. Still there was some-
thins in Jimmy's appeal to his
brother that impressed him un-
favorably, he could hardly tell
why; but the cloud of disfavor
had vanished from his mind
when, two hours later, he turned
his horse's head homeward. Just
in the bend of the road ho met
his nephews, Jimmy bearing a
gun over his shoulder.
"Did your father give you
permission to carry that gun ?" he
inquired.
" Yes, sir," replied Jimmy ;
' didn't he, Dan ? "
" Of course he did," said Dan.
" And of course I believe you,
Jimmy, without your brother's
word for it," said Mr. Harley.
Jimmy's face flushed and his
bright eye fell below his uncle's
gaze. Mr. Harley noticed his
he looked as if he would like to
vanish from his uncle's sight.
"Not always," he murmured,
looking down at his boots.
" My dear boy, I was afraid of
this," said Mr. Harley kindly.
" The boy who dlways speaks the
truth has no need to seek confirma-
tion from another. Do you mean
to go through life always having
to say: ' Didn't I, Dan ?"
" No, uncle ; I'm going to try to
speak the truth so that people will
believe me as well as Dan," said
Jimmy, impulsively.
Mr. Harley spent the season
with his nephews, and before he
left he had the pleasure of hear-
^ #a6Sif€Jr{p[]^Ttomurj(^ S^j^
nephew's confusion and rode on
without further comment.
" This map of North America is
finely executed ; did you draw
it, Jimmy ? ashed Mr. Harley that
afternoon, while looking over a
book of drawings,
" Yes, sir," replied Jimmy, with
look of conscious pride ; then
turning to his brother he added,
"didn't I, Dan?"
Mr. Harley closed the book and
laid it on the table.
"Jimmy;" he began, "what
does this mean? To every question
that I have asked you to-day you
have appealed to Dan to confirm
ing the people say, " What's come
over Jimmy Page ? He never
says lately, ' didn't I, Dan?"'
Mr. Harley thought it was be-
cause Jimmy was gaining confi-
dence in himself. Do you, chil-
dren? — Little Sower.
your reply. Cannot
word be trusted ?"
Jimmy's face turned scarlet, and
MAKING A QUEEPT.
Bees do not usually want more
than one queen. In fact, they
will not have more than one unless
the swarm has grown so large as
to crowd the hive and they are
going to found a colony, or
"swarm," as it is called; in which
your own 'case each family will need a
I sovereign. As soon as it is clear
to the wiseacres that it will be
necessary to send oflTc swarm, the
bees go to work to make a queen.
A worker maggot, or if there
happens to be none in the hive,
a Worker egg, is selected near the
edgeof the comb. Two cells next
door to the one in which this
maggot is are cleared out, and the
dividing walls are out down, so
that three ordinary cells are turn-
ed into one. The food which the
worker worm has been feeding on
is removed, and the little creature
is supplied with a new kind of
food, — a royal jelly Change of
food, a larger room, and a different
position, — the queen's cell hangs
down instead of being horizontal,
— these three changesof treatment
turn the bee that is developing
from a worker into a queen. She
is difiisrent in her outer shape,
difiierent in almost all her orphans,
and difiierent in every single
instinct. There is nothing else in
all nature that seems to me more
wonderful than this.
Fqt fear that one queen may
not come out all right the
provident little creatures usually
start two or three queen-cells at
once. It is curious to watch the
fi-rst queen as she comes out. She
moves up and down the combs
looking for otherqueen-cells,and if
she find8one,she falls upon it in the
greatest excitement.and stings her
rival to death. Sometimes, by
accident, two new queens come
out at the same ^une ; then it is
wonderful to see the bees. They
clear a space and bring the two
rival queens together, and stand
back to watch the fight. And it
is a royal fight indeed; a fi^ht
to the death, for they never give
up till one or the other is fatally
stung. The victor is then accepted
as sovereign. — St. Nichulwi.
A
CHARACTERISTIC OF
SELF-MADE MEN.
What they do, they do thorough-
ly. Many people know every-
thing, and yet know nothing;
they read on all subjects, but
muster no subject.
Kobert Hall was once asked
whether he thought Dr. Rippis a
clever man? He replied that
" probably he was, naturally, but
he had laid so many books on his
brains that they could not
move."
Self-made men have read bnt
few books, bnt how thoroughly
they have mastc : ' ; *Vose few !
Better one rood oi -(id you can
hold for your own for ever than
acres held in uncertain oc-
cupation. One thing at a time,
and do it well — yea, as well as
you can.
" Billy Gray, what do you
presume to scold me for ? You
area rich man,it is true, but didn't
I know you when you were
nothing but a drummer ?"
" Well, " said Mr Gray, "didn't X
drum well, eh ? didn't I drum
well ?"
The men who have risen from
the ranks have all done their
drumming well. — Smiles.
w
«Hi»
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
i
"RED DAVE";
Or, " Wlwt wilt Thou have m« to do T
(Ami Uu Famat iV<md
OHAPTEKI.
DATIB.
" II jroo «UB«t sroM tb* ocoa,
A&d tht hMtbtn lands txplor*,
Ton MB Had IIM butlMa amrar,
Yoa oaa h«lp Itacu at joar door;
If jroQ MBaol tpcak llkt aDieli,
If 70a eannot preacii tlka Paal,
Von can UU Um Iot* of Jhiu—
Van aaa MT Ha dlad (or aU."
The prison gates swung slowly
back, and the constable who held
the keys lifted np his lantern for
a moment amid the fog.
"Thick, ain't it, little chap?"
said he, as a child stepped forth
firom the gaol ; " whidi way are
you going — into the town ?"
" No, sir," was the answer, half-
frightened, half defiant, as Davie
shrank back from the portly offi-
cer.
" Tou won't make much of the
country roads in this here mist,
my lad ; you'll get dropping into
some ditch, as sure as my name's
John Q-regson. Haven't you got
nobody a-waiting for yon out-
side? That's a pity! well, get
back into Mereham, but take my
advice and keep clear of the Jar-
vis lot, or you'll be lodging here
again," and then the buH's-eye
disappeared, the door was double-
locked, and Dave found himself
alone, outside the gates, in the
midst of a dense December fog.
Very cold and hungry was lit-
tle Dave, for his breakfast had
been a spare one, and the rags he
was wearing again after three
weeks' prison uniform, were no
protection against the damp,chilly
mist ; but it was almost a relief to
him that the day of his release
was not bright and fine. He
slunk along close to the high,dark
wall, feeling that the fog seemed
somehow to agree with his own
condition — which was truly about
as miserable a one as a boy could
know.
Three weeks ago, " Red Dave"
(as they called him) was selling [
matches, sweeping crossings.holu
ing horses, and fetching beer for
the shoeblacks and stall-keepers
in Mereham Market and High
street ; now the prison scissors
have cropped the red tangled
curls, and Dave feels that his
shaven head must betray to all
that he is a " gaol-bird" let loose — '
something worse than the street-
boy who slept in arches and bar-
rows, and even in unused sewer-
pipes ! He understood, as he
crept along, thatthe fog was deep-
er than ever now— deeper even
than on that ni^^ht so long ago,
when they carried him, a little
frightened child, from his work-
house crib, to " kiss mother good-
bye."
He was not a prison-boy then ;
he had not stood in the dock, nor
slept in the cell !
How could he now return to
town ? All the people in the
market knew he had been taken
np. The shoeblacks in the High
Street had seen him marched
along, the policeman's hand above
hia elbow.
And Jarvis— Jarvis was free !
As Dave remembered him, he
burst out in the darkness into
oaths and cnrsA; all the wild pas-
sion of his nature vented itself in
the dreadful words he had heard
from the lips of drunkards and
profane men in the prison.
" If I had him here in the fog,
by this wall, I'd kill him ; when-
ever I get a chance, I'll kill him."
The strong brown fists were
mercilessly clenched, the blue
eyes flashed like a furious beast's ;
Jarvis, with his greater strength
of six more years of Arab life,
must have suffered sorely had he
crossed the boy's path then.
It was only an everyday story,
likewise the fascinating picture
on the first page of the paper he
was carrying. How Jarvis must
have prospered since the days
when he, too, ran bare-footed in
the market, helping the farm-mer.
to unload in the chill of the early
morning, for the sake of a copper
or a bunch of raw turnips !
Very condescending was Ben
Jarvis that night; he read Dave
portions of the histories of cele-
brated robbers and highwaymen,
and showed the excited child all
the fascinating pictures that illiu-
trated their wealth and daring,
but omitted to show the end oJ
their career, which was ruin and
disgrace, and the death of a crimi-
nal.
A second invitation found
Dave quite readj for the novel at-
' HILLOO, YOUNQSTEB ! LOST YOUR WAY. KH !
though a tragedy to " Red Dave."
One evening, when Dave sat
supperless in the market, within
the warmth of a hot potato stall,
Jarvis came sauntering in, and of-
fered to treat him to the play.
Now little Dave had never seen
a play, and felt too cold and hun-
gry to cure to turn out in the
street, so as Jarvis jingled the
change in his pocket, the boy said
eagerly he'd rather have " one of
them there 'taters."
Jarvis treated him to a couple
on tne spot, ordering the man to
" pepper 'em well," and then sat
down beside Dave, whilst the sup-
per was hastily devoured. All the
time he was eating, Dave noticed
with wonder and respect his com-
panion's brilliant scarf-pin and
spotted tie, and shining boots;
tractions of the "penny gaff";
there Jarvis mixed with a num-
ber of boys about fifteen and six-
teen, who were indulging freely
in beer. They offered some to
Dave, but he had tasted it before,
and it had made his head so bad
that the very sight of it seemed to
bring back the sick pain again,
and he would not touch it. The
lights and the singing seemed,
however, half to intoxicate him ;
he began to roar out the choruses
so loudly that the crowd turned
to " chaff" him, and when Jarvis
launched into a fight with another
lad, Dave distributed blows on
his behalf right and left. There
was a call for order from the
stage, and a policeman appeared
on the scene. Jarvis and his foe
became invisible, but Dave stood
full in view, his angry face fltuh-
ed and bleeding, Vis ragged
sleeves turned np.
The constable bade him " be
off out of this," and kept him in
memory for any future occasion,
as a patron of that " gaff," which
was well known as a resort of
young pick-pockets and burglars.
Jarvis continued to patronize
Dave, who became exceedingly
proud of the notice of such a
young " swell."
One day Jarvis called for him
in the market, saying that a great
crowd was collecting in the High
Street to see some of the Royal
Family pass by. Dave had very
exalted notions of the Royal
Family, and with a vision of
crowns and sceptres before his
mind, he only waited to don an
old pair of hobnailed boots in
honor of such grandeur, and rush-
ed out to join the throng.
The High Street was crowded ;
people pushed and jostled one
another, and Davie found he
could scarcely see anything at all,
.for the people's heads towered far
atMve him. Impatiently he turn-
ed and twisted about to get a
good place ere the carriages ap-
proached, till the surrounding
spectators bade him angrily be
still, and ho turned to Jarvis with
the exclamation, '"Tain't no
good staying here ! I mean to
climb a lamp-post."
Jiut then a gentleman seized
hold of his arm, shaking him in-
dignantly.
"Where is my purse, you
onng thief? Stop him! Stop
thief!"
For Davie, frightened and be-
wildered, made a movement to
escape.
A dozen hands caught hold of
him at once, and a woman's voice
shrieked out, "Police! Police!"
In another instant a member of
the police force had Dave down
on the pavement turning out his
solitary pocket. Within they
found a rotten apple, a dirty
string, and — a leather purse !
" I didn't take it— I didn't, sir,"
protested Dave; but the gentle-
man said sternly, "It is useless
for you to tell falsehoods now;
the purse was found upon you ;"
then, as he opened it, he discover-
ed that it was empty.
" Search him again, policeman,"
said he ; " my money is gone ;
there were four sovereigns and
some shillings."
The policeman shook out his
jacket again.
" I know the boy," he said ; " ha
belongs to a bad lot— he is in with
young Jarvis, who gives us the
slip like an eel. This chap must
have collared the money, and
passed it on to one of his pals."
"I saw him shifting and
wheedling about, a-slipping from
side to side just now," sud the
shrill female voice that had called
for a constable. "He tried to
make off just as the gentleman
missed his purse," said another.
"I hain't done nothing," sai
mn^
U'
face flush-
ragged
[e him "be
kept him in
re occasion,
B^afl," which
a resort of
id burglars,
to patronize
exceedingly
i of such a
led for him
that a threat
in the High
>fthe Royal
ve had very
the Royal
a vision of
I before his
d to don an
id boots in
ur, and rnsh-
ong.
as crowded ;
jostled oiiu
I found he
ything at all,
i towered far
ntly he turn-
ut to get a
sarriages ap-
surroundiiig
I angrily be
I Jarvis with
"'Tain't no
I mean to
eman seized
ing him in-
purse, yon
him ! Stop
led and be-
tovement to
ight hold of
iman's voice
\e\ Police!"
member of
iDave down
jng oat his
ithin they
|le, a dirty
purse !
didn't, sir,"
the gentle-
is useless
loods now;
,pon you ;"
,e discover-
[>oliceman,"
is gone ;
Ireigns and
Dk out his
I said ; " ha
I is in with
Ives us the
Ichap must
Iney, and
ns pals."
■ting and
pping from
I' said the
|had called
tried to
tentloman
other,
img," sat
am
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
Dave, looking half blindly from
the one to the other, wondering
why Jarvis was not there
to help him, yet with a sadden
sickening revulsion of certainty
that Jarvis had used him as a tool
for the then.
"Will you charge him, sir?"
asked the constable.
" Certainly ; it will be a warn-
ing to him," answered the gentle-
man; and after a moments vio-
lent resistance on the part of
Dave, the three proceeded to-
frether to the police-station, fol-
owed by a small crowd of
juveniles.
The magistrate was sitting in
court, and the evidence was laid
before him, added to which Davie
was charged with severely as-
saulting the policeman, whom, in
trying to escape, ho bad kicked
with nis hobnailed boots.
Sentence was passed upon him
for the theft and assault — three
weeks in all ; and the red head
disappeared from the dock, and
Dave waa a prison-boy.
He went down to the gaol in
the van, feeling as though he
" didn't care now what became of
him — not he ;" and he came out
three weeks later a desolate child,
int.'/ the shrouding fog.
Chapter ll.
SUNNTSIDB.
Cold and hungry and friend-
less, Darie wandered on to a
Sretty village on the outskirts of
[erenam ; many an artist loved
to linger at Bankside, on account
of its beautiful river scenery, and
others stayed there in fine
weather for the sake of boating
and fishing.
The fog was clearing now, and
Davie could see the shining river
spanned bv an ornamental bridge,
and the handsome villas with
their spreading lawns and con-
Bervat«ries full of rare choice
flowers.
"How fine it mast be to be
rich !" thought Davie, gazing at
the gleam of the firelight upon
crimson curtains and plate-glass
wmdows ; " there's food to be had
in there — they don't know what
it is to be all over cuts and chil-
blains, and not a bit of bread a-
lying about anywhere to be pick-
ed up, that I can see."
Slowly and hesitatinglv (for
Davie was thoroughly frightened
of all this grandeur) he entered
the opened gate of one of the finest
of the mansions, intending to make
his way to the kitchen entrance,
and beg for a little food. But the
approach to " Sunnyside" was
rather perplexing, and he found
himself instead oefore the deop
bar window of a laree, comfort-
able room, into which he could
look quite plainly from the gravel
path outside.
Something like envy filled the
heart of thalittle outcast as he
gazed upon a boy, attired in
warm black velvet, who lay upon
a conch, comfortably wrapped in
a handsome skin rug. This child
of luxury seemed about his own
age, but oh! what a difference
there was between them I
"He's had dinner, I reckon,"
thought Davie, miserably ; "maybe
plum duff, and gravy 'taters.
There ain't no shivering for him,
neither. Ain't he just snug, and
ain't ho a-langhing Jolly like with
them there kittens, and don't that
'ere lady seem fond of him just?"
A gentle-faced lady, who had
been sitting in the arm-chair by
the fire reading aloud to the little
bov, here rose and settled his sofa
pillows for him more comfortably.
" Guess ijl's good to have a
mother," thought poor Davie,
turning gloomily away; he did
not know that in one respect he
and Wilfrid Joyce were alike, tor
they were both motherless ; but
Dr. Joyce's sister in Wilfred's
case, tried hard to supply the
place of a mother to her little
nephew.
" Hallo, youngster ! lost your
way, eh ? You mustn't come
tramping about the front garden."
The speaker was a good-natured
man in coachman's livery; in
Davie's eyes he was very impos-
ing, and the frightened bov falter-
ed out, that he \f as very hungry.
" Well, yon won't get food, star-
ing at mistress and young Master
Willie ; come round here to the
kitchen, and I'll warrant cook can
find you some broth."
Davie opened eyes, ears, and
mouth; it was good fortune
enough to be addressed so kindly,
but to be promised broth, and
actually to detect a warm savory
smell as he neared the cook's do-
mains!
But, unfortanately, just at that
moment a side cate opened, and
in walked a gcnucman, at sight of
whom Davie would have taken
to his heels and fled, bat that
fright seemed to chain him to the
spot.
"How often shall I have to
order tramps away from the
stable-yard ?" he asked sternly ;
and then, seeing Davie's face, he
exclaimed, " Why, this is the
young thief who stole my purse
last month — the daring rascal to
come prowling aboat my house!
I'll take care you lay hands on
nothing here, you good-for-noth-
ing fellow ! Be off, or I will send
for a policeman."
*' Please, sir," pleaded Griffiths,
with the privilege of an old ser-
vant, " he's such a little chap, and
mistress said as how the broth
was to be given away at the door
this bitter weather."
But Davie was already out of the
front gate, and a long way down
the road, and Dr. Joyce passed in
to toaet himself at the fire, and
take an hoar's rest before tea with
his idolized child, Wilfred.
Mrs. Joyce had died when her
little boy was born ; ihe waa a
sweet Christian woman, and
though ahe coald scarcely get
sufficient brsath to speak, yet
when they laid her little one be-
side her, she tonched the tiny
' Thine own.
babe, saying faintly,
dear Lord.
Her last words were thus a
prayer that her little Wilfred
might belong to God ; as yet it
seemed as though her dying
pravcr had been unheard, for
though little Will heard plenty of
fairy-tales, and wonderful adven-
tures of heroes real and unreal,
no one had ever told him the
sweetest story of all — how Jesus
Christ came into the world to save
sinners. And yet he was nine
years old, and could read quite
well.
You will wonder still more
when I tell you that it was by his
father's orders that the subject of
religion was kept as an avoided
one in Wilfred's presence ; Dr.
Joyce said that he himself did not
believe in God, and he would not
have a lot of nonsense put into
the boy's head.
Miss Joyce, a kind, gentle lady,
who prayed, in secret that the
Lord would move her brother^
heart to let her teach little Will
of the Saviour, took good care of
the child, who was by nature
sweet-tempered and obedient ;
but often and often when the poor
little fellow was in pain with the
croup and asthma that so sadly
afflicted him, she longed to hear
h& little voice falter a prayer to
the loving heart of Him who
pities His little ones in their pain
and trouble.
But her brother, to all save Wil-
fred, was a hard stern man, and
Miss Joyce was frightened that if
she disobeyed him, he would re-
move her from the care of her
dearly-beloved nephew. How
often she thought of the times
when the doctor and his sweet
wife went to the house of God to-
gether, and when morning and
evening the doctor used to open
the Bible, and read aloud from it,
and then offer prayer to God.
But since his wife's death he
had seemed completely changed.
Ho had loved her passionately.and
none but himself and the Lord
knew how hard he had prayed
that her life might be spared.
But God, in His wisdom and
mercy, saw it fit to call her to him-
self, and from that time the doc-
tor seemed utterly turned against
religion.
I wonder what you would
think of a child who turned
against his mother, and would
have nothing to do with her, be-
cause she had denied him some-
thing he was determined to have ?
You would call such a child fool-
ish and wicked ; ' could he not
trust his mother's love to choose
and decide for him ?
But Dr. Joyce wss acting just
in this way ; first of all he said,
" God is cruel," and then, like the
fool mentioned in the Bible,
" There is no Gt>d," and then, as
if to revenge himself against the
Lord of Hosts, he decided to turn
religion out of his house entirely.
dying breath, and the Lord \i'
whom she trusted had not Jorgtot-
ten little Will.
In envying the young master
of those pretty white kittens,
Davie had only judged from ap-
pearances; he did not hear the
hacking cough, he did not know
how many months little Will had
lain upon that couch day by day,
and how hard the father strove to
persuade himself and others that
the child was not growing weaker,
and wearing away before their
eyes.
He looked up gladly as his
father came in, with the loving
smile and dark blue eyes of his
lost mother.
"Papa! we've got snow-cake
for tea, and we had chicken for
dinner, only I couldn't eat much
because auntie gave me such a
biff cup of beef-tea at lunch."
id some thought of the hungry
face of the little tramp cross the
doctor's mind ? If it did he dis-
missed it with the remembrance
of Davie's guilt as a thief.
And have you been busy,
papa dear ? Have you been to
any little boys who cough as bad
as me?"
" Oh, what grammar !" cried his
aunt, playfully ; then she added,
" But you have not coughed quite
so much to-day, darling."
" Of course not," said Dr. Joyce,
drawing the little golden head
tenderly to his shoulder. " I be-
lieve that medicine will fatten
him up out of all knowledge,.
This dull weather is against the
strongest constitution ; when the
roses come you'll be quite well,
my boy."
But I have never been quite
well, you know, papa ; somehow
I never seem to have played about
like other boys."
Oh, your chest has been a
little weak," said the doctor,
hastily, " but you will grow out
of it ; it is nothing at all. You've
got that wool next to the skin ?"
"Oh yes, papa; auntie takes
care of that ; but, papa dear, I've
been thinking— suppose I don't
get better, papa. Cook had a lit-
tle nephew who had the croup,
and he died"
Cook is a gossiping idiot,"
said the doctor angrily ; then he
added, touching the little frail
hand to his lips, " There's no fear
for you, my boy ; cook's nephew
very likely had neither doctor
nor nursing. I think we are able
to insure your life for a good
many years to come."
"Oh, I do hope so, papa; I
don't want to die. Fancy going
away from yon and auntie, and
everything nice and being put in
the cold, dark ground."
"The flowers don't mind the
cold dark groand," said his aunt,
in a trembung voice.
" No, auntie ; but they come np
out of it, and look beautiful ; 1
shall have to lie there for ever
and ever and ever — shan't 1 papa?
But the dewr mother's praver p**. »» d»" lHght*n me so.'
had gone . up to heaven with her| (Tb bi continued.)
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
BED DAVB";
Or, " WbaX wUt Thou htw m* to do r
iDrom l/U AiKUy fHtud.)
OHAPTER II. — OmluMwil.
For answer, hia father lifted
him gentiy on to his knee, and
put hii atrong arms aronnd him,
aa though to defy even the
thooj^ht of Death to touch his
preoiona boy ; and when the tea'
thinga came in, Willie woke up
from a coay nap, lively and smil
ing ; but hia amilea could not
baniah from hia father'a mind
the thonght that, for the first time
in his life the child had appealed
to him for help in vain. Willie
had turned to him, hoping his
clever father would relieve him
from the fear of lying for ever
underground; but what could his
father tell him, since he had de
termined the child should never
hear of Him who says, " Whoso*
ever liveth and believeth in Me
shall never die" ?
Ghaftbb III
** » OOB »THBB !"
Intenae hunger often preventa
aleep, and though Davie felt tired
and faint, he waa still wide awake
that evening when he crept away
from an approaching policeman
to rest within one oftbe recesses
made by the seats upon the
bridge. Away in the distance he
saw everywhere the lighted
windows of homea, but he — like
the King of earth and heaven —
"had not where to lay his head."
It was cold and damp, curled up
on the stone seat above the river,
and some might even have pre
ferred the warm, safe prison cell ;
but to the street boy liberty waa
next to life. He was free — free
to look up at the golden stara, and
wonder vaguely concerning their
calm, sacred beauty ; free to look
down at the flowing watera, and
think of a boy he h»i aeen drawn
up out of the river drowned.
"Anywaya he ain't hungry,"
thonght Davie ; " I mind he were
often abort of cash like me, before
he got drownded ; wonder what'a
come of him now !"
The next moment he waa con-
aoiooa of a faltering atep beaide
him, and the atarlight showed him
dimly the bent fig^ure of an aged
woman, with a little baaket on
her arm. He aaw she was poor
and feeble, so he felt there was no
need for him to make hia escape.
" Why, my lad !" said a weak,
quavering voice, " ain't this a
blessing that we've got into this
cosy place out of the rain ? It's
just beginning to come down, but
we shan't feel it much if we creep
under that there shelter."
•' The bobby will be by," said
Davie. " I 'spects I can give him
the slip, but he'll see you, and
he'll turn you out, sure enough."
" He's turned his light on here
a while ago," said tne woman.
" I don't think he'll look right
in again, and if it rains hard, he'll
turn into the cabmen's ahelter at
the top ; I hope he'll let bm' alone
luat thia one night."
"They'll take you in at the
Union," auggested Davie, " if you
hain't got no tin."
" Why ain't you there, child ?"
ahe aaked.
"Oh, 1 couldn't— I wants to
feel free."
" And ao do I, lad; I've lived
off the pariah, and I hoped to die
off the parish, but our Father-
He knows better nor 1 do May-
be I've got stuck-up of late, for
I'm over seventy, and I've earned
my living, and nursed my good
man till he went to glory ; and
what with charing and needle-
work and washing, I never want-
ed no parish relief ; but I've got
the rheumatic this throe month,
and ] couldn't do no work nor
pav the rent, and I'm two month
behind, ao the landlord he sold
no appetite to eat a moraei. So
here it it dearie, and do you eat
every bit of it ; dear now ! where'a
your mother, to leave you alone,
and you such a little wee boy ?"
" Haven't got no mother,'^ said
Davie, snatchine at the food, " and
I ain't little ; Iin bigger than 1
look in the dark. But I say,
you'll be hungry maybe to-mor-
row, and then you'll want this."
" No, lad ; it ain't no good keep-
ing up my pride— the Lord
knows better nor I do, and since
He sends me there, I'll go there ;
He'll come along of me I know.
I'm a-going to apply there in the
morning, only I just wanted one
night more to feel free like afore
I goes to the Workhouse I
likes being out here better than
being shut up there, so I «aya to
OLD BETTY AND DAVIE ON THE BBIDOK.
me out to-day, and told me to go.myaelf, ' Betty, yon shall say one
to the Union. ' more prayer out of the Union, and
" What a shame f cried Davie ' then you goes in to-morrow !' ' I'd
" I'd like to shoot the old fellow.' . a-hoped to have died out of the
" Te mustn't talk like thai, House, but sure and I ain't no
child ; I ought not to have been ' call to be discontented and to
behind with my rent, but thia poor grumble — it's nothing to what
handgot terrible bad a while ago." the jLord went thruugh.'"
Won't it get worse if you stay
here ? the rain is getting in to us
now." ■
It don't feel over bad to-night ;
I feel somehow stiff and chilly,
but I'm not in pain, thank the
Lord !"
Well, I'm glad you're come,"
said Davie. " I likes company,
and I'm that hungry I can't sleep."
" Well now, that's queer. I've
got half a loaf as a neighbor give
me — poor dear I ahe wanted it bad
" Who's the Lord 1 do you mean
the Lord Mayor ?" ^..ked Davie,
with his mouth dangerously fuU.
" Why, laddie ! our Lord— our
Lord Jesus."
" He ain't our Lord," said Davie,
" I ain't heard nothink on Him."
"Not heard of Jesus! why,
there's nobody loves you like
Jesus does, laddie."
" Nobody loves me at all," said
Davie, "nor I don't want them to ;
Jarvis pretended to care a lot for
enough herself— and I can't gel < me. and he got me in gaol
Reckon you wouldn't sit ao cloae
tome, if you'd a-known I'm out
of gaol to-day."
" I don't know about Jama,"
said Betty ; " but whether you've
been in gaol or not, I know the
Lord does love yon. Why, He
used to touch the lepers — ^poor
creaturea nobody wouldn't nave
about them, and who had to get
out of the way of everybody."
"Just like me," said Davie,
" Qneaa He wouldn't touch me
though ; I'm horrid dirty, but I
meana to wash in the morning."
"You don't know my Lord
Jesus, you don't know nothing
of Him if you think He wouldn't
touch you ; why. boy, we touch
Him when we pray to him."
"Pray— what'a that?"
" Talking to Jesus ; He likes
us to tell Him all we feels, and all
we wants."
" All we wanta ? my eye !" cried
Davie, " I wants something more
to eat, and a new suit, and iiit-
tens, and lots. Where does He
live ? Guess if I go to Him, some
one will drive me off."
" No, nobody can," said the old
woman , " there ain't nobody can
drive us off from God."
" Gx>d ! is it Him as you means ?
—I can't get to Him.'*
"Tes you 'can, and He will
hear you and help you "
"Tell me how.'* The boy
crept close vp to hei. his face up-
turned to hers in the darkness
" I can't tell you much, laddie ;
I'm only old Betty, and don't
know nothink. But God did
teach us one prayer, and I knows
that right enough. You say it
after me — say it quick, 'cause
something queer's come to my
tongue, and 1 feels a bit sleepy.
Our Father."
"Our Father." said Davie, in
wondering, hushed tones
" Our Father," came again more
feebly from old Betty, and again
the boy spoke it after her But
she did not speak again, only
leant back aeainst the wall, and
her basket rolled from her hand,
"She's gone to sleep, sure
enough," said Davie. " Guess I'd
like to tell Him all I wants. But
it don't matter about me; I'm
used to sleeping out of doors; but
she's too old for it ;" and then his
face looked up to the sky where
the dark cloud hid the stars, and
Davie uttered his first prayer —
Our Father, can't you nnd a
place for old Betty to-night?"
He dropped fast asleep by her
side, so sound asleep that he was
not conscious when in the gray
dawn of morning a policeman
flashed his lantern into the recess,
and found a little ragged boy
asleep on the seat, wrapped round
in Betty's shawl. But the old
woman slept more deeply 8till,for
though she had been turned from
her earthly home, One whom she
loved had drawn nigh unto her
in the darkness, a^ lifted her
away to our Father's house,
where the many mansions be "
(7>/ be continued. I
l\
m^
A
«H9
REPRINTED STORIES. PROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
"BBD DAVB";
Or, " What wilt Thoa h*T« m* to do f*
Itfrom Ou ritmttp IHtnd.)
Ohaptkb IV.
DR. IIKiDOWS.
" Darie, I want yon to go np to
Snnnyside this morning, with this
new medicine for Master Wilfred.
HiB father haa consented to try it
at last, bnt he ought to take U be-
fore dinner, so make ha%i.e."
"Tes, sir ; IVe left ail the medi-
cine yon pnt out iu the sargery.'
" That's a good boy ; and I finri
yon mixed those powders as we' 1
as I conld hare done them vof
self. I shall make a doctor of
you yet."
" You'd make any thins of .my
body," said Davie, with so.-ne
thing like a sob in his voice ;
" there ain't not a boy in the
market-place would know me
now."
" No, you don't look much like
the little chap I found lying
asleep under the glare of the
policeman's buU's-eyo."
" He were a-going to take me
to the work'tts, weren't he ? "
"Tes, but I told him that I
could get you into the Royal
Home, so he gave you up to mn,
but the Home was full, and I
could not turn yon adrift, so I had
to trust you as my errand-boy,
and I shall trust you no longer
unless vou hurry now to Sunny'
Bide."
Davie rushed off with the
bottle ; he loved goins to Sunny
side, for little Wilfred was quite
a hero to him, and the strong,
healthy boy was no less a won-
der in the eyes of poor Wilfred.
When Dr. Joyce's partner, Dr,
Meadows, brought the outcast in-
to the surgery at Mereham, and
told how he had found him asleep
beside a dead woman on the
bridge. Dr. J uyce at once declared
he was a gaol-bird, and said he
should not be employed in that
surgery. *
But Dr. Meadows had taken a
fancy to the little red-haired fel-
low, which was not at all surpris-
ing, since he always did take a
fancy to anything or anybody
helpless, and he declared he
meant to befriend the lad.
" Since we share the surgery,"
Baid he, " let him do his work at
my end, and you can get another
hd to carry out your prescrip-
tions."
Davie, however, had been at
his post more than a year.and both
partners knew him now as a
sharp, trustworthy boy ; Doctor
.Toyce had ceased to treat him
slightingly, and though always
stern, he sometimes praised his
quickness and ability.
But Dr. and Mrs. Meadows —
he said it was his wife, and his
wife said it must be the baby-
between them had done a Ghrist-
like work towards the little out-
cast Who would have recog-
nized in their smart, bright-faced
" buttons" the little gaol-bird who
looked to the darkened sky and
Mid, • Our Fatheft"
Doctor Meadows believed in
Davie's innocence of the theit.and
Davie knew he believed it. 'This
was the first sonrc« of the great
influence he possessed with the
child; in Davie's eyes. Doctor
Meadows was nearly perfect. He
it was who clothed, fed, and
housed him when the managers
of the Boys' Home found their
rooms so, crowded that they were
compelled to refuse another in-
mate ; he it was who conquered
Davie's fear of Dr. • Joyce, and
who taught the lad to read, write,
and work sums for an hour every
evening ; he it was above all who
gave Davie a place in his Sun-
day-school class.and bv word emd
ezAriple led him to the Saviour
who had shown him the evil of
he p^st, and tjUcen all Davie's
w
iHa-
and Master Willie was lo feared
of the coffin."
"No talk of coffins here, and
no talk of Jesus," said the doctor,
striking his fist on the table, and
making Davie shake in his shoes.
" I don't believe in Him, and
I don't choose to have religion
brought into my house. Yon
must not go near my lad unless
you promise to avoid the subject
altogether."
" Not talk of Jesus, sir !" cried
Davie, blankly.
" Not a word."
" But, please, sir, I must ; I
loves Him best of all."
" See here, Davie — the bov frets
after you— it's only a little thing I
ask. Ai; ! ii you please me in this,
I'll give yon half a crown."
Now Davie had tried long to
hit
' AND NOW THE HTMN, DAVIB DIAR."
poor little heart for His own for
ever and ever.
When the boy reached Sunny-
side, he was told that Wilfred was
so ill as to be in bed, and he was
turning sadly away, when the doc-
tor called him saying, "Willie likes
to chat with you ; go up and have
dinner with him ; I'll tel
Meadows I kept yoii."
" Oh, thank you, sir !" cried the
boy in great delight.
*' But mind, not one word of
church talk ; I hear you've been
putting all sorts of notions into
my lad's head, about things that
wjU frighten him to death."
"No, indeed, sir; I wouldn't
frighten him for all the world. I
only told him as how Jesus
wouldn't never let us keep in the
coffin if we trust in Him. Doctor
Meadows says we go to heaven ;
purchase a pair of tiny bfne shoes
for Dr. Meadows' baby girl, but
was yet some distance short of the
price ; the money therefore seem-
ed a temptation at first, bnt only
for a moment.
" Please, sir, — it's no good
promising— I couldn't help talk-
ing about Jesus. - And Master
Wilfred— I does love him, too —
suppose he was to get lost, and
me know it was for the want of
me telling him ?"
" You telling him ! you teach a
gentleman's son !"
" I know he's a gentleman, sir,
but nobody hain't told him about
Jesus."
" You are an impudent fellow ;
get out of the house."
" Please, sir," said the frighten-
ed voice, " I didn't go for to be
imp'dent, please, sir."
Away down the garden he
went, bnt ere he reached the
te, the doctor's voice came after
im. " Here, you young chatter-
box, go and keep my lad com-
pany, while 1 see my patients, and
don t let him push off the bed-
clothes."
A happy boy was Davie when
Wilfred's little white handi lay
in his own after dinner, and the
child learnt from him some of.the
texts that the doctor had taught
him at the Sunday-school.
Willie never talked now of get-
ting well ; he understood better
than any one else did that he
would soon leave his dear home
of Snnnyside ; but now that he
had heard of the Friend " beyond
all others," his little voice framed
many a secret prayer to the Lord
who was able to take care of him
all along the dark valley.
" And now the hymn, Davie
dear," said he ; "I showed father
the hymn-book you gave me, and
all he said was, ' Don't sing too
much— it wiil hurt your chest ! '
But what do you think 1 Mother
had a Bible, like yours, for auntie
has been keeping it all this time ; I
heard her talking about it to papa,
and he savs I may have any book
of hers I like, so I'll have a Bible
of my own.
" And you c«kn read so beauti-
ful. Master Willie! I wish I
could read like you."
" Oh, you can do lots more
than I can, but I'll be strong
whnn I go to Jesus, won't I
Davie ? Now do sing to me once
before you go ;" and the doctor,
opening the door of his consult-
ing-room,heard two boyish voices,
one strong and clear, and the
other, oh, now feeble ! blended in
the low sweet hymn —
"There Ii a freen bill far »iraj,
Wlthont Hour wall,
Where the dear Loitt wai omctfled,
Who died toeavanaall.
• •••••
He died that we might be fort iTaD,
He died to make ne food.
That w Aalgbt go at laat to beaTen,
Bared by Hie precloui blood.'*
Chaptsb V.
OOINO HOME.
It was a beautiful afternoon in
early spring ; the river danced in
the sunlight, the trees were bud-
ding into sweet, fresh green, and
tUe sky was of a deep cloudless
blue.
By the river-bank went Davie,
whistling for gladness of heart;
Kood Dr. Meadows sent him every
day now, when his morning
work was done, to the Board
School at Bankside, and thouffh
at present in a very low class, the
master said that it he continued
to work as well as he was doing
at present, he should soon be
quite proud of him as a pupil.
The Board School was not very
far from Snnnyside ; Willie could
hear the boys shouting in the
play-ground, and the voice of the
master who drilled them He lay
listening to the sounds of life and
health very patiently on his bed ;
this mild, fair weather hsMl made
no ohange in little Willie's health.
u
y "62
i* Srer
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
H»«
iwhi
wel
1^
BTcry one — save Dr. Joyce—
3oald eee that the darling of the
honae was " wearing away to the
land of the leal" ; but the dootor
himself either could not or
wonld not admit that Wilfred
waa worse. He sent for an emi-
nent physician from London, be-
sides getting Dr. Meadows every
day to see the boy, for, skilled
doctor though he was, he would
not trust his own ability alone for
his son. Dr. Meadows had long
since told him very gently that
lung disease had set in hopelessly,
and all the physician said was,
"While there is life, there is
hope." But Dr. Joyce called them
a pair of croakers, and bade his
sister keep up Willie's strength
with jelly and beef-tea and new-
laid eggs ; she noticed, however,
that he hung about the boy with
a very anxious face, and he would
suffer none but himself to under-
take the night-nursing of the little
invalid.
As the school was so near, Davie
often called to ask «fter Willie,
who never failed to invite him to
stay to tea ; he liked to hear of
the boys' classes and games, but
oh ! how much more eagerly did
the dying boy drink in the sound
of the " Name to sinners dear."
This afternoon Miss Joyce was
watching at the garden gate for
him. " Doctor Joyce is in Mere-
ham," she said, speaking in an
agitated voice ; " do find bim for
us, Davie. He went to some pa-
tient who has had an operation in
the workhouse infirmary, but he
may have gone elsewhere now,
Run, Davie — Willie is so ill."
The whistling stopped, and
tears filled Davie's eyes, as he
rushed forward as though pos'
sessed of wings ; he loved Willie
so dearly that he had often felt as
though he would like to bear his
weary pain so as to give him ease
The infirmary was at the other
end of Mereham, and to Davie's
relief, the doctor's caifiage was
standing at the door.
" I must not frighten him," he
thought, trying to frame his mes-
sage gently; but just then the
doctor came out, and seeing the
breathless boy, his face went
ghastly white.
" Willie !" was all he could say ;
and Davie nodded, for the doc-
tor's agitation frightened him out
of speech.
The doctor tore a leaf from his
pocket-book, and wrote on it.
" Dr. Meadows is in there," said
he ; " give this to him ; when he
is done with the young man, he
must come at once."
The carriage rolled away, and
Davie asking for Dr. Meadows
was shown into a large ward,
where the doctor stood beside the
bed of a youth, whose leg was to
have been removed, but the doc-
tors had found to-day that there
was^ope of saving it.
"He ain't of much account,"
said one of the male nurses in a
whisper to Davie, whom he knew
well by this time : " hurt himself
in breaking into a hoose ; he
ought to be in the prison infirm-
arr by rit^hta, but it waa an old
laay'i house, and she wouldn't
prosecute him 'cause of hia leg be-
Ingwounded."
Davie gave the note to Dr.
Meadows, and turned towards the
patient Their eyes met. Jarvis
did not recogniie the doctor's
page, but Davie knew him di-
rectly. Davie had prayed for
this ; ever since he had learnt to
love Jesus, he had prayed for Jar-
vis, as the one who had " despite-
fully" used him, and he longed to
do good to the evil associates of
the life from which he had been
rescued. Many a little wander-
er had Davie brought within
the influence of the ragged-
school and Sunday-school, but he
nurse ; I'd knook down ten of " Ob yes, I know her, it's Mrs.
yom, but for this leg." I Bryant, a great friend of my mis-
" Does it hurt yon very much, tress. I'm so glad, dear Jarvis,
Jarvis?"
" Why I its ' Red Dave,' I de-
clare ; to think of seeing ' Carrots'
in buttons; your master don't
know as how you was in the lock-
up, do he ?"
" Yes, he does, Jarvis ; I'm Dr.
Meadows' boy, and he k^ows all
about it !"
" Blessed if he does I you don't
know all about it!"
" I think I do, Jarvis ; butwon't
you have a drink of this milk ?"
Jarvis drank it feveririily.
" Something queer has come over
you, Davie ; I suppose you're too
grand to go to the ' penny gaff'
now r
"Glrand, Jarvis! Fancy cali-
DATIE AOOOSTINQ DR. JOTOS.
had never been able to see Ben
Jarvis, though he had even
sought for him once in the
" penny gaff."
" Doctor," said he, " it's Jarvis."
" Bh, what ? he gave his name
as Jones."
" Well, it is Jarvis," whispered
Davie, " and he don't know me."
"You can remain hero with
him awhile if you like ; I don't
want him to sleep just yet, for his
wounds are to be dressed when
Mr. Drew come° round. I must
go up to Sunnyside ; don't you
come there, for Willie will want
to see you, and he ought to keep
quiet."
The doctor moved awav, and
Davie sat down quietly by the bed
ing me grand ! No ; but, Jarvis
I never go there. I've signed a
paper never to touch strong
drink, and that's about all they
does there. But I did go once — ^I
wanted to find you out."
" Look here,' said Jarvis, sud-
denly, "if it will make you
squarer with your master, you can
tell him as how I knows you
never took that purse. I slipped
it into your jacket, Dave ; but I
didn't leel like being locked up.
They've caught me twice since
then, though, and irthat old girl
hadn't begged me off, I'd have
been in prison now. Ain't she a
brick, Dave? Blessed if she
didn't send me some sponge cakes
and oranges yesterday. Tho folks
I say, young buttons ?' cried . say as how she comes and reads
Jarvis, peevishly, " you're a nice J to them here once a week."
and oh! so glad yon confessed
ebout the purse. I knew you
must have done it, and I have
asked Jesuii to forgive yon."
" Don't Tou feel like punching
my head, though ?"
"No, Jarvis; but do ask Jeans
to forgive yon."
"What's the sood? It ain't
only that— I've done a sight of
bad things ; it's only one like you
as could forgive me."
" But, Jarvis, Jarvis, I forgive
Jou because I want to be like
esus; oh, do try Him! There
ain't nobody forgives like Jesus."
"They learnt me about Him
when I was a little chap,and lived
with grandfather; but when he
died I was turned out in the
streets, and I've forgot everything,
I think. Oh dear ! how this leg
hurU "
" Shall I ask Jesus to make it
better, Jarvis? There ain't no-
body minding us."
" Tain't no use, lad; Jesus'd
think it served me well right ; iiie
bobbies si>i J 30 When they picked
me up."
" Jesus never says that," said
Davie ; " it ain't in the Bible no-
.where ; I believe He pities you all
the time, and I'm a-going to tell
Him sU about it ;" and putting his
head down beside the pillow
of the astonished Jarvis, Davie
whispered — "Saviour, our Sav-
iour, save Jarvis, and make Him
sorry he has done wrong things,
and take this pain away, and
show him how "rhou dost forgive
him, much more than I do —and I
forgive him with all my heart —
for Thy Name's sake. Please Jar-
vis, say ' Amen.' "
" Amen," said Jarvis ; but no-
body didn't listen to you. How
could God hear you a-whispering
like that?"
" 1 don't know bovr He can,
but He does," said Davie firmly ;
" I feels it inside my heart."
Here the dresser came up to at-
tend to Jarvis, who looked at
Davieeagerly.andsaid, "Come and
see a chap sometimes won't you ?"
" Indeed I will, whenever mas-
ter can spare me. And I'll tell
mistress what ward you are in ;
she brings the children here
sometimes. I wish you could see
our baby, little Miss Daisy. Good-
bye, Jarvis ; I hope your leg will
leave off hurting you."
But ere he left the ward he re-
turned, and laid silently on Jar-
vis' bed his chief treasure — a little
Testament that had been found
in the basket of the old woman
who died on the bridge, and that
Dr. Meadows had secured for him,
writing the names of the two out-
casts together, first "Betty" and
then "Davie."
tt was very hard to part from it
but very sweet to give up some-
thing precious for Jesus Ohrist'i
sake
{To be^AntiHued.)
f^
"RED DAVE";
Or, " What wUt Thou h«T« m« to do f*
(From tk» Famil) f>'f«iid.)
Chapter V.
The two doctors stood beside lit-
tle Willie'i bed, aa the sottiiifr sun
sent iti iMt raya of glory into hia
room.
The child aeemed fast asleep ;
his open Bible lay beaide him —
the one that had been his
mother*!; for he had bean readingr
in it ere he broke the blood-vessel
which waa the fatal sign.
No eonnd waa in the room ; Miss
Joyce was titterly worn out, and
waa lying down on the sofa at the
foot of the bed, for Dr. Meadows
said Willie might continne ancun-
scions ior hoars. Dr Joyce had
dren no opinion, bat the little
hands were clasped tightly with-
in his own.
At last there was a movement,
and the father pressed a morsel of
refreshing ice between Willie'a
lips.
He opened his eyes. " Father I"
said he, " I can t see — is it
night?"
A sob barst from the strong
man's lips.
"Don't cry, papa," and the
little hands felt for his face, " I'm
so safe — Davie told me aboat
Jesns— I'm so glad Jesus has got
me tight."
'■ Don't talk, darling," said Dr.
Meadows; "it will make you
congh."
"J won't talk maoh; I want
papa Kiss me, papa — kiss me
good-night"
"Try to sleep again, Willie,"
said his aant.
" Yes, anntie, when I've said
my hymn." And then the little
fellow tamed his face towards
the window, thongh he could see
the sunset sky no longer, and said
his evening hymn — •
Jmoi. Mnd«r SIMphnd. brar in«,
BI«M Thy mu* lamb to-nt(bt |
^Tbroagb tht darkooM be Tboa noar ma,
Keep ma lafa till morninf light."
* « . * *
When Dr. Meadows left the
house, his partner had locked
himself into that room alone, and
Miss J jyce was in the deep sleep
of sorrow.
Davie waa standing at the gate,
watching eagerly for news of
Villie.
" I didn't let him hear my voice,
sir, I've been waiting outside all
the time; ia Master Willie any
better sir?"
And the doctor said gently,
"Yes, Davie; Jesus has taken
away t^l his pain."
CHAPTER Vt
" FATHSB !"
Sterner and harder than ever
teemed Dr. Joyce during the few
days that a little flower-strewn
coffin lay atSannyside ; he scarce-
ly spoke to ttaj one ; but his
partner waa moat anxious about
him, for he scarcely ate or slept,
and Dr, Meadows knew that an-
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
leia he gave way to his grief hia
life waa in danger.
He did not attend the f\ineral
service — a critical case at some
distance demanded bis attendance.
The good clergyman, however,
souffht him that evening, where
he knew he would surely find
him, and pressed his hand in
silent sympathy.
Dr. Joyce pointed tn the new-
made grave.
" For ten years, sir," said he " I
have planned and schemed and
saved for the future of my only
child ; and this is the end."
''Nay," said the clergyman,
earnestly, " but rather the begin-
ning, "the strongest man living
has powers less wonderful, the
happiest heart on earth ia leaa
happy than little Willie now.
For when we see our Lord, we
shall be like Him, as He is."
Dr. Joyce made no reply ; he
when the boy eould no longer
visit him, because of Hying at
Snnnyside, he became very de-
spondent, and declared he was
?roing to die, and should be lost
or ever.
In this state of mind he con-
tinued a longtime ; nothing seem-
ed to give him hope, till one day
the good Christian lady, who re-
venged his burglary by visiting
his sick-bed, knelt down in the
ward, and besought the Lord to
have mercy upon that poor dark
soul, and, when she arose, Jarvis
said, " He loves me, me — ain't it
wonderful ?"
His kind friends did not lose
sight of him again ; the doctor got
him to attend a night-school, and
at last succeeded in getting him
to.sign the pledge ; and now, in
all the shoeblack regiment, it
I would be difficult to find one
more civil, honest, and obliging
turned slowly away and went up than Ben Jarvis; for he is "on
to his room where one little bed ' the Lord's side," and the Lord
stood emi*ty beside his own. | has strengthened him to resist
The next day he lay helpless temptation in whatever form it
with brain fever, and for a time ' may come to him.
hunv between life and death ; his | One day when Dr. Joyce was
kind sister nursed him ceaseless- getting better he called Davie to
ly, and even when he regained his side, and said, " Davie, I hear
his senses, he waa weak as a little I you want to become a doctor."
child, and needed constant attend- " Yes, sir, please, sir ! and I'm
ance. They were discussing one' a-learninir how to make some
day the plan of getting an attend- 'sort of pills."
ant to help Miss Joyce, when the j " But it will want plenty of
doctor beckoned his partner to money to make yon a clever doc-
tor.'
Will it, sir ?" and Davie's face
grew clouded ; "then I can't get
I'd have liked to
him, saying, " Lxt Davie look af-
ter me."
So Davie came to the sick-room;
and trod softly and carefully, and ' to be one, sir ;
ministered to the doctor's comfort make folks' pains better, but it
as tenderly as his kind little heart i don't matter. Perhaps I'll drive
proRipted him ; though when he a tram."
saw Willie's bed his chest heaved " But, Davie, do you know I
and he could not speak, which owe you something ? I don't
Dr. Joyce noticed though he said meat, for attending to me now, or
nothing,
By this time Davie could spell
out a text here and there, and of-
ten, when the doctor seemed
asleep, he conned over his Sun-
day lesson, word by word, till it
sank into his memory, and into
the heart, too, of the listening
man.
And one day, when the patient
had been left alone.and Davie was
bringing in some chicken broth
as quietly as a mouse, the boy's
heart gave a bound of joy — for he
and Willie had prayed for this—
the Bible, hers and his, was open
in the doctor's hands, and Davie
heard him murmur in a broken,
faltering voice —
" Black, I to the fonntaln fly ;
Watb me. Saviour, or I die."
Meanwhile, Jarvis was steadily
making progress towards recov-
ery. Dr. Meadows promised, if
he tried to live honestly, to set
him up in a good station as shoe-
black, for his leg would never be
quite well, so he could do no
active work.
Jarvis was so full of jokes that
nobody could find out whether
he really meant to do better or
not; but every one could see that
ho was really fond of Davie, and
for you' work for my child— God
bless you for all you did for him
— but I hear you were put in
prison unjustly, and I must try to
make that up to you."
You do know I'm not a thief
now, sir?" said Davie, flushing
red.
" Yes, my boy ; poor little fel-
low ! I suppose Dr. Meadows
has not told you what I want to
do for you?"
" Yes, sir," said Davie simply ;
" he told me you was a-goinr to
get me my next pair of boots.
" Not your nexi only, but many
more pairs, I hope. Since he did
not tell yon, listen tp me. I am
very lonely, Davie, and there is
none to succeed me in ray name or
in my profession. Will you come
to me as Davie Joyce, and bo my
son ? I will do all for you that 'I
hoped to have done for my angel
boy."
l)avie opened his eyes, turning
redder still.
" I— I can't leave Doctor
Meadows," said he; "I likes my
room over the stable, and that'ere
baby will bo wanting me back
ag{un now."
"You are frightened I shall
keep you by force, I see," said the
doctor, with a sad smile ; " but.
hard aa I seem, I will
you against your own will. Re-
member, thouqh, that instead oi
service you would get a first-
class educaiion, and instead of
bread and cheese, plenty of good
food, and your room over the
stable would be changed for
Sunnyside. I have learnt to love
you, lad, and I know this is what
my Willie would have liked.
" I\l likn to please him," said
Davie, hesitating ; " but I does
love Dr. Meadows ; please mayn't
I talk to him about it?"
Dr. Joyce nodded. " You may
go now," said he ; " and you may
take a week to decide."
But Davie did not need a week
to make up his mind. Dr.
Meadows saw that money and
comfort could not tempt Davie
away from his service ; but he ap-
pealed, and not in vain, to the
boy's sense of self-sacrifice.
" I have a wife and children,"
said he ; " Miss Joyce is going to
live with her sister, and Dr. Joyce
has nobody to love him, and take
care of him. It makes me very
sad sometimes to see that lonely,
broken-hearted look in his eyes ;
I think this may be the call of
Jesus to you, to bless and bright-
en that desolate life."
Davie had not thought of it in
this manner before, and his eyes
grew very radiant with a light
caught from above.
"For Jesus' sake." This
thought entirely altered the case ;
for a few minutes ihe little fellow
knelt down in his garret above
the stable, and asked that the
Lord would lead him aright, and
then he went to say " good-bye"
to the baby.
' But I shall see you many a
time," said he ; " so don't fret af-
ter Davie ;" which did not seem
at all likely to be the case, since
Miss Daisy was quietly intent on
the contemplation of her wee
pink toes, which had just been
bared ior Slnmberland.
In the calm of the evening,
Davie again left Mereham for
Sunnyside ; the moon gMted
quietly out from betweerffithe
clouds, and as he looked up to%e
silver light, he thought of little
Willie safe at home in the pain-
less land.
The gas was not burning in
Dr. Joyce's room ; he lay in the
dark, wondering whether Davie
would return to him at the end
of the week or no, and thinking,
too, of his dear ones whom God
had called above.
Just then, when the tears rose
to his eyes, and his heart grew sad
and heavy, a boy's step sounded
up the stairs, a boy's hand touch-
ed his own, and a loving voice
said earnestly, " I've come to
stay with you, father !"
THE END
" The daily use of beer shortens
lifetromten to fifteen years." — Dr.
Daoii.
^^m
64
REPRINTED STOKLES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
FRBDDIB WRAT^
DBNT.
ACOI-
\;
Poor Freddie Wrty had no
father or mother to care for him,
and wonld have felt very dall and
miaerable in hit little bed if ^aok
had not given up his play to sit bv
his side and read to him. JaoK
waa not his brother; he was an
orphan like himself, bat ever
■inca Vred-then a little half-
■tarT'.d fellow with tattered
olothea and bare feet, used to
sleeping under arohwaya and
gattlnff money to buy food in all
sorts oftuoertain ways— had been
brought to the Children's Home,
Jack had helped and stood .
by him.
In the middle of the
reading Mr. Hilton, the
superintendaut of the
Home, oamo into the
room.
"Freddie," he said, "I
wtrit you to tell me again,
as simply and plainly as yon
can, how it all nappened. '
" I was going that errand
to Captain Harper's," Fred
answered, " and I caught
sif ht of Jim, on the other
side of the road, and I was so
afraid he'd get away before
I could catch him, I ran
across directly.
Jim waa the one friend
Freddie had had all his life
before he came to the Home,
and he had cried for him
many a time, thoueh Jim
wa( a big, rough lad, in
whom no one else ever found
any good.
"There wasn't a cart or
anything near, sir ; it must
have come round the
corner of Granville Street,
and it came tremendously
fast, and I inat knew it was
coming and couldn't get out
of the wav, and there seemed
to be such a row all round,
and 1 saw the horse's hoofs,
looking more like elephants';
th|M something gave me a
gir^ailcnock, and there I waa,
aaddidn'tknow no more till I
was here; I think he might
haveseen me, the man in the
cart, if he'd looked out ; I do,
reallr, air."
" »> some other people say
who saw it happen, Fred,
but the man had too much to
drink and didn't know what he
was doing. He will be brought
up at the police court to-morrow
morning, and be punished, and
perhaps lose his situation alao.
He ia very sorry now, especially to
have hurt you, because he has a
little boy at home just your age,
and it might have been that little
boy instead of you."
"Jack," said Fred, when Mr.
Hilton had gone, "Don't you think
it would have been fairer if it had
been hia own little boy instead of
me? He'd have been sorrier then."
" Perhaps his boy wouldn't
have been so comfortable as yon
hM
are here," Jack suggested. "Ho I time if it's to do any good, but I
wouldn't havp had Mr. Hilton (o
go and see him."
But don't you think," began
Freddie again, speaking much
more slowly this time, "it's very
hard, Jack 7 1 wanted to see Jim
so much, you can't guesa how
much. People say he's bad, but
he's not really, and if I Qould see
him and talk to him, and tell him
how Uiuoh nicer it was to learn
things, and try to be good and all
that, I know he'd soon be very
food. Ho waa always good to me,
aok, and "
Freddie was so near crying, he
had to leave otf talking,
can't think why (iod didn't let
me apeak to Jim.'
" I suppose if yon knew whv,
that wouldn't be trusting," said
Jack. " Perhaps you naven't
trusted enough; perhaps you've
been— what does that text say 7 —
leaning unto your own under-
standing."
"I don't know what that
means," Fred answered.
•■ Well, I shouldn't wonder if
it moans thinking you knew best
how to talk to Jim, when Ood
had some better way."
There waa a little silenoe, Then
Jack went on with the reading.
JACK READING
" I expect it will all come nght, "
Jack said, soothingly. "You'll
see Jim some other time. There 's
that text I was reading when Mr.
Hilton came in tells you not to
fret—' Trust in the Lord with all
thine heart.' You ask God to look
after Jim and trust him to do it.
Perhaps your accident is going to
make the man that ran over you
leave off drinking "
"But Fve been asking for so
long, and nothing has happened.
I knew just exactly what to say,
FBBDDIB WBAT.
It was a long time before Fred
heard of Jim again, and his trust
was a good deal tried, but he kept
that text Jack had read to him,
not only in his memory but in his
heart.
One day, however, avoungman
came to the Home and asked for
Freddie Wray, and after a long
stare, Fred found that the neat,
smiling lad who shook his hand
so warmly was actually Jim.
"Rather a difference. Fred,
my boy, isn't there?" he said, da*
and he wouldn't mind anybody lighted to see Fred's amaiemeni
so much as me. I wouldn't have I've got a place at Dr. Rot>erts,' to
minded being run over another look after hia horaea, and perhapa
V\\ be Ml ooaohmaB ieiB* day;
but if I am you'll never find me,
please God, taking too much drink
and running over anybody."
" Why, Jim what do you mean 7
Did you know?" cried Fred.
" Iknow vou were nearly killed
for me. I'd seen yon, my lad, b«-
fore you oroaaed, but I'd have
dodged you rather than hava
apoke. I waa kind of mad with
▼on for staying in this place and
leaving mei, and I said Pd never
forgive Ton till tou ran away from
them all. Ana I thought, too,
you'd be proud and lord it ovai a
lellow like me, when yon had inoh
swell elothaa on." *
"Oh, Jim!"
"Wait a bit. When that
cart knocked you down, I
turned round and waa mad
with the chap that drove it,
and I hoped he'd losa hia
place and get into priaon for
ever so long. • I went and
hung about the court to find
out what was done to him,
and when I saw him come
out fVee, I waa fit to knock
him down. I went up and
asked him how he'd manased
it, and he waa thinking or it
all so that he nsver noticed
my way of aaking. Well,
he said it waa all along of
you ; you'd sent a gentleman
to speak up for him, to say
you had crossed the street in
a great hurry because there
waa a friend you wanted
very mnoh to see, that you
were glad it wasn't his little
boy, and hoped because of
him that he wouldn't lose his
place. " So," he aaid, ■ my
master agreed to pay the
fine, and take me place if I'd
sign the pledge, and I'm
going atraight away to sign
now, so as it shan t be my
boy next time.' Well, that
came over me ao, I didn't
ki\ow what to think I be-
gan to aae all at once that it
wasn't the clothes only was
different about us. And I
kept on talking to the man,
and thinking, and thinking,
and — there, the long and
short of it is I made up my
mind there and then, that
next time you saw me there
shouldn 'tbo such a difference;
I'djuat try the experiment
I went on with this chap and
sionad with him— they must
have thought me a queer Sort of
fellow to put my hand to it, it
took me such a time to write— and
he did all he could for me juat be-
cauae it was me you'd been want-
ing to see. So I went baok with
him to his maater, half aa a joke,
and asked if he wanted another
hand in hia stable^ t can't think
what made him give me a job,
but he did, and tiler a bit took
me on regular; and the other
fellow stood by me, and took me
to see his missus and the boy that
waa your age, and then they got
me to church with them. And I
needn't go on any mora now. Ton
!!
1
U4»\
r
RKI'RINTKI) STORIKS. PROM TIIK •' NORTIIKRN MKSSKNOKR
•in't Mhunsd to Ulk to me
tboagh, are yoa, Freddie? I'm
not quite the unie Jim I wm.
"And JMk was right," aaid
Fred.
" Why, what did Jack aay ?"
" He read me what the Bible
aays— ■ Trust in the Lord with all
thine heart; and lean not unto
thine own understanding.'" —
Hand of Hope Review.
BOY INVBNT0E8.
The invention of the valve
motion to the steam engine was
made by a mere boy. Newoome's
ungine was in a very incomplete
condition, from the fact that there
was no way to open or close the
valves, except bv means of levers
operated by the hand. He set up
a large ennne at one of the mines,
and a boy^nmphrey. Potter, was
hired to work these valve-leaders ;
although this was not hard work,
yet it required his constant at-
tention. As he was working the
levers, he saw that parts of the
ongine moved in the right direo-
tion, and at the same time he had
to open or close the valves. He
procured a strong cord, and made
one end fast to the proper part of
the engine, and the other to the
valve-lever; and the boy then
had the satisfaction of seeing the
engine move with perfect
regularity of motion. .A short
time after the foreman came
round, and saw the boy playing
marbles at the door. Looking at
the engine, he saw the ingenuity
of the boy, and also the advantage
of so great an invention. The
idea suggested by the boy's in-
ventive genius was put in
practical form and made the steam
engine an automatic working
machine.
The power loom is the invention
of a farmer's boy who had never
seen or heard of such a thin^.
He whittled out one with hu
pocket-knife, and after he had got
it all done he, with great
enthusiasm, showed it to his
lather, who at once kicked it to
pieces, saying he would have no
boy about him who would spend
his time on such foolish things.
The boy was sent to a black-
smith to learn a trade, and his
master tookalively interest in him.
He made a loom of what was left of
the one his father had broken up,
and showed it to his master. The
blacksmith saw that he had no
common boy as an apprentice, and
that the invention was a valuable
one. He had a loom constructed
under the supervision of the boy.
It worked to their perfect satis-
faction, and the blacksmith
furnished the means to manu-
facture the looms, and the boy
received half the profits. In about
a year the blacksmith wrote to
the boy's father that he should
bring with him a wealthy gentle-
man who was the inventor of the
celebrated power-loom. Ton may
be able to iudge of the aatoniah-
ment of the old man when hia
son Was 'presented to him as the
inventor, who told him that the
loom was the same as the model
that hi) had kicked to pieces but
a year ago. — Selected.
JESSIR'8 OOOD DAY
UY MKH. M'OUNAUOUY,
"I don't think it has been a
'good day' at all, Jessie Umury,"
said Cousin Pansy. " The sun-
shine has molted the snow, so we
can have no fun on our sleds, and
the streets are so bad mamma will
not let us go out. The snow is so
deep it will be wet and muddy
for a week, most likely ; and here
we are all shut up in the house.
I think it is just miserable."
<D
■Cl>
put stamp* on »*o\\, as papa told
me I might draw on his desk for all
the postage I needed for such a
good worlc."
" I saw you fussing with those
old papers au'l I was most sorry
I let you lease away two of my
nice magazines to put with
thom."
" Oh, you wouldn't be. Pansy,
if you could see the poor little
fellow they went to. Ho has not
walked for seven years, and ic
always in pain ; sometimes very
great. H^ is ten years old, and
can read. The magazines will be
such a feast to him. Now, I know
you are glad I sent them."
" You must have had a dozen of
those packages, Jessie. It would
take a lot of money."
■it t^^apid \\Vc ft^toiiu.
and uncflmwttx\u\tan.
ISnM^tviHVm an. tow*
1^ VSlvAdA n se uvt\u\
\u Voo\;\tv5 a\)ouV..
\
ni mviit ^uvt. •v(ii\V\«ul- \aA
I OlVtVv o\\tT mi 0^ 'nxw.
ft \»vv aW CuyAu "^fcVY .
Untiv glvi Vim "iouT ^ti\
. Q.tt) ucu. Tvavt oi-wntVt ipil
|l^« Can icuaWUViVtoS
1)1 ^t\\\\\t.ovVxl.
DRAWINO LESSON FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.
Pansy had not been a bit of a | " No ; I only had nine. T did
heart 's-ease" to anybody that ! wish I had a dozen. But then, it
day . : makes me happy to think of giving
The day has not been long so much pleasure to nine people,
enough for me," said Jessie, for all of these are people who
brightly, as she threaded a needle have but few papers. Likely the
CO take a few more swift stitches '. whole family will read them,
before the light quite faded. |Now I think. Pansy, it was a very
" I can't see what you have I good morning's work."
done so pleasant." ' " What did you do with the
" In the first place, I assorted a others ? I saw you put on your
pile of papers papa gave me to do ! rubbers, and run out somewhere
with just as I pleased. I laid with as big a parcel as a news-
aside those I wished to send away,
in n pile by themselves, and then
cut wrappers for them and sealed
them up. I directed all the
parcels, and weighed each on
papa's poatage smIm. Then I
boy."
" Those left over ones I assorted
again, and took a largo bundle
across to Becky Maurice. She
always wants a large paper to
out a pattern for somebody. She
is so obliging ; and she likes to
keep her shelves as tidy aa a pin.
She puts on clean papers twice a
week if she can gel them. You
should have seen how pleased she
was with that bundle. She will
read them all first, she says."
" Well, I must say it has been
'paper day' with you What
were you doing so Ions up stairs
when I wished yon to play a game
with me V"
"Just fixing up the closet for
mother, putting new papers on the
shelves, and arranging boxes.
Miss Becky's fine order made me
fuel a little ashamed."
" Well, I think you have had a
happy day of it, just mousing
about among old rubbish the
whole time. Reading this story
hook in this easy chair has been
too much for me. Most of the
time I looked out of the window
at the miserable streets, and the
miserable people wading through
thom."
" You may not believe it. Pansy,
but the very surest way of being
happy yourself is to do something
for some one else. It makes yon
happy at the time, and when you
think of it afterward. Now.ifyou
really think it over, I believe you
feel better pleased about those
two magazines than about any
thing else you have done to-day.
Just try my way to-morrow, and
see if it does not work well."
" I don't sepwhat I could do."
" Only make your mind up in
earnest and you will find ways
enough. The trouble will
more likely bo you'll not know
which to do first. It often
puzzles me."
It was likely that Jessie saw
more than Pansy about s^me
things, because she had learned to
see. There is a great difierence
in people about this, yet any child
with aheart for the work can begin
right away the blessedness of
doing good to otherB.— Exchange.
WHICH IS WORSE.
Ill-natured deeds are very rare
when compared with ill-natured
words It would be a
shrewdly good bargain for the
world to agree that ill-natured
deeds should be multiplied by ten,
if only the ill-natured words were
to be diminished by one half ; for
though the deed may be a much
larger and more potent thing
than the word, it often does not
give nearly as much pain. Depend-
ents could gain very much by this
bargain, for they seldom suffer
much from deeds, but a great deal
from wordi Many fi, man goes
through life scattering ill-natured
remarks in all directions, who has
never to his knowledge done an
ill-natureddeed, ajid also probably
considers himself a very good-
natured fellow ; but one, however,
who takes a knowing view of all
human beings, and of all hnmCi
affairs, and is not to be imposed
upon, as he takes care to say, by
anything or anybody. — Author of
" Friends in Council.
a
' ' f\\St
UEPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN ME8SENQER."
ONE BITE OF A CHERRY.
" Uptn your noutli tml t^ut jruur tjri^
Ami 1 II i!>v> y'>u •uuirtlilng tn mak* yuu
wU»."
Sttiil Tommy Ureeii to hi* little
filter Bva. Eva was Nitliiig on
her grandma*! knee. Shu had
Icen very aick but waa now get-
ting qnite well and brother Tom-
inv waa. very good to ht*r. He
seldom oamu npme from work
without bringing her lome-
thing. One day it would be a
bunch of wild flowora that grew
on the wayiide, the
next a line bunch of
awoeldinelling graaaea
or porhapa a branch of
" palm." He had not
much lo bring her, poor
boy, but hu did all ho
could, and every day
before he came home
Hhe would ask, " VThat
timu ia it, grandmam-
ma?"
Now oiii« day Tommy
planned a great aur-
prido for her Every-
day he used tu pass a
great orchard on his
way to work, and saw
in it one tree full of
fine cherries. He said
to himselij " When
these cherries are ripe,
I will get some for
sister." But ho was a
very poor boy and he
had no money to buy
them, and they soon
began to look so nice
that he thought they
must cost a great deal
Every day as he passed
the tree they grew red-
der and redder, and
riper and iiper, but he
had no more money to
buy them than before.
At lost one day he
heard the gardener say
to the owner, " We
must pick these cher-
ries this afternoon."
TiiiN frightened Tom-
my, and all the day at
his work he thought of
how he might get some
lor his sister. " Steal
them !" That never
entered his mind, Tom-
was always a very good
boy. At last he made
up his mind. At noon
he went to the garden-
er and asked him if he
could not du Homething
to earn the cherries he
wanted for his sister.
The gardener looked at him and
said, " You are the boy who pusses
here every day, are you not? and
you never touch the fruit. I tell
you what I'll do with you. Come
and help us pick fruit all the spare
time you can and we will Ity to
«pare you some for your sister."
Tom went back to his work
whistling, and that night was late
HI getting home. His sister had
fttked hei grandmamma where
Torn was. nearly a hundred times
liL'toie sho h-ard liiin runiiiui? as
hard as he could. U<'loro he got
to the door he stopped and then
walked quietly, a smilo all over
hia face.
Alter his kiss, he snul, "Nov*,
0|ten ruur inoutlt and thiil your t^yiMi,
Aiiil I II kIvi* you •omt'thliig Ici tuakv ynn
She knew something good was
coming, and laughed and clapped
her handa and opened her mouth
and kept her eyes open too. But
that would not suit Tommy, but
she would keep her little eyes
MAY-HAVBM AND MUST-
HAVES
The things wo decide that we
must have, in distinction from
those which we feel we may have
if we can, are very significant.
Eliza must hnveanewdresa. The
new dross must be of silk, thick
and shining; and it will make
necessary an elegant wrap, a
tasteful bonnet, dainty laces, and
fresh aa well as costly gloves and
shoos. If our young lady ia to be
th« familiar haunts of their youth
and the little churchyard where
their precious Urst-born waa bur-
ied. Such a trip would smooth
out some of mother's wrinkles, and
impart a new elasticity to father's
dragging step, but it would be
wild extravagance to suggest anoh
a thing to the dear unseltiah pair.
Eliza's outfit would put a
tMrclopiedia on the bookahelvea.
That would wonderfully as-
sist the boys in their studies,
and amaiingly broaden the
horizon of the whole
family. It would as*
sist conversation by
adding to the general
fund of information,
and would help the
young folks to read the
newspapers for more
intelligently. But to
spend so qp^h money
at once, for such a pur>
pose, sends at the bar^
mention a thrill of ter-
ror to the maternal
heart. We may have »
cyclopaedia by-aud-by.
We must array our
daughter fashionably
to-day. Eliza's oullH
would support a Bible-
reader for a whole year
in India ; hut, dear me,
what could one Bible-
reader more do to stem
the tide of heathenism?
Besides, who ever heard
of one family of mode-
rate means, setting up
a whi)le missionary, all
by ilu-niselvos! The
notion ih Quixotic and
ridiculous. Away with
it ! O, the good things,
the beautiful things
that may be thought of
among our may-haves.
And alas, blind bats
that we are, we let
them all go, and choose
for mnst-huves a new
''k dress for Eliza,
..'le in the latest style
— Chrittiuii Intelligen-
w
UOLL'S WORK.
A lady missionary
writes from India: —
" I cannot be too
thankful for the lolls.
They excited i. reat
deal of admiration, es-
pecially among the
Shindh women and
girls. At their request
open until grandma at last put i dressed with attention to style, ' I had a ' show day,' whenrum-
her hand over them and Tommy | wo cannot neglect any detail of|bers came to see the wi i(I,.rful
put a rich, red, ripe cherry into, her toilet. In fact the things |' white woman'. Among them
her wide-open mouth. what a which it is decided she must have ^ was an old blind woman who at
time they had then. After that [come in a short time to an tends my Bible class. She fondled
there was no trouble in keeping amount which would do a great, the dolls so tenderly, and said
her eyes shut aa she took one ' many other good aiifl delightful; what a comfort one would be to
after another, and then the garden- things, if a different idea of econo- her lonely life, that I felt sure you
er's boy came in with a nice my prevailed. Eliza's outfit; would have given her one, sol
basketful for Tommy and grand- would enable father and mother, chose a small one with (aa she
ma too, and that evening they if they would but think they ^ called it) real hair, and gave it to
had a great time I can tell you, could thus employ the money, to her. It has been the meana of
all because Tommy so loved his take a trip to the country and see , bringing three new women to my ( \
sister. the old homestead, the old friends, i Bible-class.— 0o«p«; in all I^ndt. j *
#Hy
=^lr
cnANOIVO RABIES
BT BTDNKV DAVRK
Un • bright,
w*rm day, Ru-
• y lar-riva hi>r
Im-lijr broth-rr
•lilt toth»gr«>«l
liirin-y»rd. It
w m • vcr-y
|ilf*-MntpUci>.
A Inrge barn
i>l(>o«l at one
HJd« of it, and
iioxr thii waa ii
|i»ul-try-honac
The ohiok>pu»,
il It e k • and
gi'fM na«d to
i-oine ont of it
to atray a-bont
the large graa-
ly lot. And iu
one oor-ner waa anif^i- ulrar pond,
Sn-ay knew ahe nhonld find
ma-ny prot-ty thinKn out here, and
that Ba-by would like to see them
too. She walked a-round till the
iit-tle pet got aleep-y, and laid hia
head on her ahonl-der. Then ihe
car-ried him to a long, low shed,
where the aheep and cat-tin were
fed in Winter. There waa some
hay in a man-ger ; ahe laid him on
it, and, tit-ting bc-iid« him, sang
■oft-ly. Thia ia what ahe anng:
KKPiyNTUU 8 T0RIE8, FROM THE ^'JIORTHERN MKSSKNOER/; ^
" What will you give,
Wliat will rou give,
For mj liutle ba-by Mr f
Nothing il bright u hia buii-ajr bluu tyn,
Or suft M hia curl-ing hair.
;■ What wiU you bring.
What will yiiii brine,
Tu trade for my trwu^-iire her* I
No on* can ibow me a thing m nwrut,
A-nt 'Wh«l^ br or near,"
"Moo, moo-oo !" aaid sonie-lhing
not far from Sn-ay. " You think
that'a ao, do rou ?" and Mad-am
Jer-aey Cow looked ver-y douht-
lul-ly at Ba-by. Said ahe : " Can
he kick nn hia heels, and Irol-io
all o-var the yard ?"
"Why, no," aaid Su-sy; "He
can't walk yet."
" Ah ; how old is he ?" — "Near-
ly a year old," aaid Sn-ay.
" Near-ly a year ! My child
walked be-fore ahe wae two days
old !" The cow gave a scorn-ful
sniff, and walked off with-out
an-oth-er look.
" Baa-aa," aaid an old aheep,
walk-iutr up with a snow-white,
down-y lamb. " Let me aeo. He
is a nice Iit-tle thing, aure e-nough.
Dnt haa he only two legs?" —
" That'a all." aaid Su-sy.
" Then mine is worth twice as
much of course. If you had two
babies, now, we might make a
bar-gain. But he seems to hare
no wool r
" No, ma'am,'' said Su-sy, " but
see what pret-ty cnr-ly hair he
has."— "I don't think I would
wish to trade, thank you," and
she an<| her lamb trot-ted a-way
and went to eat grass.
" Quack ! quack ! quack I Let
me taka a look," and Mrs. Dock
flew up on the edge of the man*
ger.
" Hia feet don't look aa if he'd
1 1 make « good awim-mar," ah« aaid.
, looking at Ita-by's pink dim-plaU
'toea.
" Uh, h)> eau't swim at all, ' said
Sn-ay.
"Good-bye," aaid Mrs. Duck.
" All my dar-lings can awim."
'(■hip! chip! chip!" was the
I neit sound Su-sy heard. From
its nest in an old elm tree which
atood near, a rob-in llew down,
and perched on Ihe end of a pitch-
fork. She turned her head from
side to side, gai-iug at Ba-by in a
ver-y wise way. " What can he
singY" said she.
" Oh, he can't slug at all yet, '
aaid Su-sy ; " he's too Iit-tle."
" Too Iit-tle !" ezolaimad Mrs.
Red-breaat. "Why, he'a tre-men-
dona ! Can't he sing, ■ Fee—fee
- lil-ly— Hl-ly— weet— weet ?' "
" No, no," aaid Su-ay.
" All mr chil-dren aang well at
four montna. Haa he iTttle red
feath-era on hia breast ?"
"No," aaid Su-sy.
" I shouldn't like to hurt your
foel-ings, but you see how much
I shoiud lose on an ez-change,
and I m sure you would not wish
that."
" No, I ahonldn't," aaid Sn-ay.
And Mrs. R. R«d-breaal flew a-
"Cluck! cluck! duck !" "Peep!
peep !" Mra. White Leg-horn Hen
came a-long with her down-y
chicks. No won-der she fussed
and fumed and cack-led at audi a
rate, Su-sy thought, with twelve
ba-bies to look af-ter I
" 1 haven't much time to look,"
said the hen, "and I should hard-
ly be will-ing to trade. Can your
ba-by say 'peep — peep' when he'a
hungry Y"
" When he'a hungry he cries —
but not 'peep — peep,' " said Su-sy.
" I see his legs are not yel-low,
ei-thor, so I'll bid yon a ver-y
good af-ter-noon." OR ahe went,
ruf-fling her feath-ers, and cluck-
ing and scratch-ing till i>ln-8y
laughed a-loud.
"1 don't won-der you laugh,"
purred aome-thing near her. Su-
ay turned in great sur-prise.
"There, at the oth-er end of the
man-ger, in a co-zy cor-ner, waa
her old gray oat. That waaat
all.' There wore throe Iit-tle
kits ; a white one, a black one,
and a gray one. Su^y
had not tern Ihem be-
fore, und ahe fond-led
theiu lov-ing-ly.
" She's so proud be-
cause she
has twelve!
said Mra.
Puss, look-
ing al-ter
Mrs. W. L
Hen. "Now
I think a
small fam-
i-lyismuoh
better —
three, for in-
ttance. Don ' t
you think three
nough 7"
"In-deed," aaid Su-
ay, " I think one'a
e-nough , if it's teeth-ing."
" Mine nev-or have trou-ble
with their teeth. And per-hapa 1
can nev-er teach your ba-by to
Cnrr or to catch mice. Still, I
e-lieve I'll take him, and let you
hare one kit-ten, aa I have three."
" Oh, no ; you don't un-der-
atand me," cried Sn-sy. " I don'l
want to change at all. I'd rath-
er have my Iit-tle broth-or than
a-ny-thing else in the world." But
Mrs. Puss took hold of him aa if
.to car-ry him off. Ba-by gave a
acream, and then Su-sy— a-woki^ !
Then she looked a-round with a
laugh, aa ahe thought of all she
had seen and heardln her dream,
aince she had anng her-self to
sleep be-aide the ba-by.
Mad-am Pnaa sat by a hole
watch-ing fo>' rats. There wasn't
a kit-ten a-ny-where. Mrs. Hen
was fnm-ing and cack-ling and
Bcratch-ing liard-er than ev-er,
but Puss did not aeem to care
wheth-er she had twelve chick-
ens or a hun-dred. The calf waa
feed-ing quiet-ly by its mam-ma,
and the she^p and her lamb lay
un-der the old elm. And up in
the branch-es Su-sy could hear
Mra. Red-breaat teach-ing her
bird-ies to sing.
n
So then Su-sy run up to inn
house and found sup-per wait-ing.
Ba-by held out hia arms and
waa soon on his moth-er's lap, as
hnp-py as could bo. Susy locked
at him and said : Qod has made
e-ver-y-bod-y and e-vor-y-thing
love their own ba hies best,haan't
he, Mani-ma ?"
" Yes. We would ralh-er lake
care of our own ba-by than a-uy
oth-cr, wouldn't we?" " Yea,
in-deed," said Su-sf. And aa
she rocked the ba-by 's era- die
that night, she fin-iahed her lit-
tle song in this way :
" Nulh-ing will do,
Nuth-ing will do ;
V»u may trar-el tlio world a-rouml,
And nev-er, in earth, or tea, or air,
Will a lai-by lika him lie found.
— ». Niehala:
CONCERNING PRAYER.
The Lord ia nigh unto all them
that call upon Him. — Psalm cxlv.
18.
He will be very gracious unto
thee at the voice of thy cry ; wheu
He shall hear it. He will answer
thee. — Is. XXX. 19,
Verily, Verily, I say unto you,
whatsoever ye shall ask the
Father in My name He will give
it you. — John xvi.
28.
Every one that
askethreceiveth.and
he that seeketh
findeth, and to him
that knocketh it
shall be opened. —
Luke xi. 10.
What things so-
ever ye desire when
ye pray, believe that
ye receive them,
and ye ahall have
them.— MarK zi. 24.
1 1 ye shall ask
anything in My
xiv. 14.
hteous err. and the Lord heareth, and
all their troubles. — Pa.
diaciple
word then are ye my
1 yiii. U.
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.
WATCH CRYSTALS.
Onr'illnstration shows a hollow
sphere of glass now in poaiesaion
of L. Boyer, in Paris. The
diameter is not stated, but the size
can be judged from the fact that
th: e hundred watch crystals
have been cut out of it. The cut
is taken from Ackermann's Oew-
erbr Zeilung, and is from an actual
photograph. The same paper gives
thofollowinginteresting account of
the manufacture of watch crystals.
The first pocket v\ atches in use
in Germany were oval in form,
and hence called "Nuremberg
eggs" (like our "bulls eyes") Only
a few of them had a glass cover
over the hands. These cpvers
were flat or slightly convexed
pieces of crystal cut out and
polished on a primitive kind of
grindstone. Of course they were
very expensive.
These oval watches were suc-
ceeded by flattened spheres, and
the glasses had the form of seg-
ments of a sphere, or spl rical
caps, made as follows: jmall
glass bulbs were blown on very
small gas-blowers' pipes, and from
each bulb two of these caps were
cut with the aid of two red hot
iron rings, the sudden expansion
causing a circular crack. The
edges of these glasses weife
polished either on a grindstone or
with sand on a cast-iron plate.
This process was very expen-
sive, owing to the necessity of
blowing as many bulbs as they
wanted crystals, for 'wo could be
rarely cut out c' one sphere.
Moreover, the glasses, owing to
their spherical shape, were very
high in the middle, while the
ends of the hands near the edge
of the dial had a very narrow
space to move in.
As the thick watches of the last
cen'ury gave place to thinner
ones, and the high convexed
glasses became inconvenient and
unhandsome, flat glasses were
made which were but shghtly
curved near the edges. They
were made from thick, flat glass
hollowed out in the centre and
rounded off aroand the edges.
Owing to their high price, they
were only used on fine watches
The concave watch glasses ol
the present day are not hollowed
out on a grindstone, but made by
a method invented in 1791 by a
Bkilful watch-glass m-'cer in
Paris named Pierre Royer. The
Geneva manufacturers imitated
his method, and succeeded in de-
veloping it into an important
branch of industry.
Before Rover's process had been
perfected and came into general
use, various interesting experi-
ments ware mado in the glasshouse
ip Goetaeubruth, in 1880. Little
phials were blown, each with a
slightly curved bottom, and this
bottom when cut off formed a
concave glass; bn* as it required
a new phial fc every watch
I crystal, this made them too ex-
i pensive also. .
One improvoment followed an-
other until finally tliey al'e
mad* in wonderful perfection
and with surprising rapidity,
which ia due principally to the
skill of the glass-blower, so that
now verv thin glasses of enormous
size can be made.
The glass-blower takes up
several pounds of prlass on the
wide endof his pipe in that plastic
state in which it can be worked
like wax, and rounds it off by
roiling it on a damp block of
wood and first blowing into it
gently. He then blows a little
harder and swings it to and fro,
which lengthens it out, and with
proper tools he gives it a long
pear-shape. Having acquired the
approximate form required, it is
re-heated in the furnace, and then
blown out to a larger size, a steam
blast being employed to finish the
blowing. The finished ball, which
resembles a balloon, is cut from
one hand, the other draws a little
white hot tube around the edge
of the pattern. This circle is
immediately moistened with cold
water, and the sudden contraction
that followsthe previous expan-
sion causes the piece to crack ofi",
forming a more c less hemispheri-
cal crystal.
This process has, however, been
superseded bv the so-called lour-
nette, a tool that resembles a car-
penter's compass (dividers), one
leg being provided with a
diamond.
First, ten circles are cut on the
ball with the point of the diamond
of this little instrument. As these
little scratches do not go through
the glass, the next and most
tedious part of the operation is to
break loose one of the separate
crystals. This is accomplished
by little strokes or taps all around
the circle. After on? has been
taken out, the workman can put
A. OLABS GLOBE FBOU
WHICH THREE HUNDRED
WEBB ODX
WATCH CRY8TAL8
rapid, and only the edges need
polishing. This is done on grind-
stones of hard material, which
produce the bevelled, sligbtlypro-
jecting edge that holds it in the
case. It is finely polished with
cork.
The last method has been still
further simplified by grinding the
disks as soon as they are cut out
with the diamond. The bevelled
edge is formed on sandstone
wheels, and then the glass is put
in a mulSle without polishing to
give it the arched or curved form.
The ground edges are rounded
by the heat, and rendered smooth
and brilliant, and at the same time
are harder and firmer, so that
they can be set more easily.
At the watch crystal factory of
Trois-Fontaines in Lothringen,
there are 62 gross (74,880)
manufactured daily, •^ach glass
passing through thirty-five dis-
tinct operations.
After the watch glasses have
acquired the requisite shape by
pressing the warm and softened
glass on to or into moulds, they
are taken to a large room fitted
with grinding and polishing
lathes. The grinding is of three
kinds. The first consists in grind-
ing away the convexed portion so
that the outside is nearly all flat,
and the glass is thin in the middle,
but n&r the rim retains its
original thickness. The second
is similar to the first, but only the
centre is ground, forming a sirall
circular spot that is sligntly ,on-
cave.
The third is grinding the edge
to a proper bevel, so ihat it will
fit into the crease of the case ac-
curately, which is absolutely
necessary for holding it securely
This operation is performed on
lathes driven by steam, and one
man can tend eight or ten of them,
as it is only ntcessary to put them
on and take (hem off.
After a final polishiug with
pumice, measuring, sorting and
inspecting they are ready for
packing ancl shipping.
the pipe and placed on a
wooden work - bench upside
down.
In some glasshouses they have
succeeded in blowing balloons
from 12 to 82 inches in diameter
with t'ase. Sometimes they exceed
40 Inches, and the walls of such
colossal balls do not exceed 1-25
or at most 1-16 of an inch in thick-
ness.
TI.ese enormous balls can be
designated as truly industrial
works of art. About 6ii0 watch
glasses can 1 e cut from one such
sphere, by a method whicu we
will describe below. As these
large balls, owing to their great
size, are liabl ^ to break, and tan-
not be handled rapidlv, it is
customary to make smaller oues
and cut them in two. First a
metallic pattern of a wato.. ja
made, and either pressed on the
sphere or on a strip cut out of it.
While this is held in place with
his thumb through the opening
into 'h J sphere; and then taking
the next one between the thumb
and fore-finger, he liiresses gently
outward, and thus separates the
second, after which the rest are
taken out in the same way.
After they have been cut out,
and before thoy are ground to the
proper form, the glass must be
subjected to another operation,
the object of which is to improve
and shape the rim so thnt it may
fit accurately into the crease
around the watch case.
The glasses are put into mufHes
of refractory clay hi-atcd with
coke. When snfTiciently heated,
they are placed on a cast-iron
plate in front of the muffle and
pressed down on the moulds with
a wooden lid of conical form.
The projecting edge of the glass
getting heated first is softer, so
that i» alone is pressec' down by and his sense of right l.ad Deeu
the hd This method is moTti\orxinged.~ ChHsfian InieihiteHcer
A Boy of thirteen came to
New York to sppk his livelihood.
The first opportunity that
offered was a position in a drug
store. For a few days every thing
seemed satisfactory, but after a
few weeks' experience, he ex-
claimed earijestly : " I can't stay
in that place, I am willing to
work all day, to work nights,
and to work hard ; but to work
Sundays, that's what I wont
do. If people only came in
to buy medicine, that would
be one thing; but to stay there
and sell perfumery, and soda
water, and mineral water, thing.t
they don't need at all ! i
never felt so mean in all my
life " It was only by a strong effbn
that the brave littlp fellow kept
back the tears as he felt ihit his
moral nature had received ashock
and his sense of
^Hb'i^-
«Hi
■at, '>e or
1 on tl
59 ■▼
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
SHADOW-PIOTURES AND
SILHOUETTES.
Ever sines there have been
home walls for sunlight, fire-light,
or lamp-light to fall upon, au of
us children have been interested
I
in shadow-pictures, and shadow-
pictiires nearly always have
seemed glad to oblige us in all
sorts of pleasant way*. Some>
times they give us Grandma's
head and cap, showing sharp and
clear upon the wall; sometimes
dear little Bobby's curly pate and
rollicking movements; or perhaps
a big shadow-puss, gracefully
waving a blurred shadow-tail on
the white surface opposite the
glowing fire-place ; oi, possibly,
a shadow looking wonderfully
like something that isn't in the
how impossible it is to keep the
original quiet while the rest are
merrily enjoying the picture. He
or she is sure to turn to see what
it looks like, and so spoil it all.
Now, if you wish to obtain a
shadow-picture buy sheets oi
paper, black on one side and
white on the other, which may
be found at any stationer's and
pin one of these sheets of paper
upon the wall, opposite a lamp,
with the white surface outward ;
then, after providing yourself
with a well pointed pencil, place
your sitter in such a positioir
that a clear, strong shadow of
the profile is thrown upon the
paper. If your sitter (or stander)
can now remain absolutely still,
you have only to trace the outline
of the shadow carefully with your
pencil, taking care to work as
rapidly as practicable. When
the outline is all thus traced, you
..Z^''-
room at all, just because someboay
has flung a coat, or a bnt, or a
huiidle, or what not, on table or
um chair. No matter what it
may be, one thing is certain. If
any substance, living or inani-
ni:itt>, comes between a strong
liirhi and a wall, it must oast a
sliiiilow, and we ci\n make some-
(liiiig out of it or no* just as we
please. All of you have some-
limos seen the grotesque likeness
ot a person in the shadow which
selves by making comical hand-
shadows upon the wall. A very
little practice enabled them to
represent the heads and bodies oi
he or she unconsciously casts up
on the wall, and have noticed
various animals, and to set these
one by one to snapping their
jaws or talking little leaps upon
the wall. In the accompanying
pictures you \''ill find designs,
some new and BotL>e old, on which
to practice your dexterous in-
genuity. — Ex.
THE FATE OF A HERD OF
BUFFALOES.
An army ofiicer who aboat four
years ago arrived in Chicago from
the Yelllowstone Valley, tells a
story of what happened to a herd
of buffaloes as they were migrat-
ing southward. The herd num^
,->!/ a- /srx y bered 2,800 head, and had been
.^SC -A- -29«<. jyj^g„ ^^t „f ,hg Mji,j jjiygj
country by the Indian hunters be-
can go back and repair any part longing to Silting Bull's band
that seems incorrect. This done,
release your sitter and take the
paper from the wall Now you
have only to cut out the picture
close to the pencil-mark, and as
the other side of the paper is
black, you turn over your picture
and paste it upon a sheet of white
paper, and you can show your
silhouette portrait in triumph to
your obliging sitter, the whole
thing having been ancomplished
in about five minutes. Many
boys and girls become very ex- .^, ^, i. j lu • .i.
pen in making these pictures. When they reached the river they
*^ D 1 ' ventured upon the ice with their
customary confidence, coming
upon it with a solid front, and be^
ginning the crossing with closed
ranks. The stream at this point
was very deep. When the front
file, which was stretched out a
quarter of a mile in length, had
nearly gained the opposite shore,
the ice suddenly gave way under
them. Some trappers who were
eye-witnesses of the scene said it
, , ., , , seemed as if a trench had been
and, by seizing every available opened in the ice the whole length
opportunity lor tracing shadow- of the column. Some-four or five
pictures of their Irienus, in time
br<come possessed of a valuable
collection of silhouette portraits.
The excellence of the picture must
depend very much, of course, on
the skill of the draughtsman who
traces the shadow, on the power
of the sitter to remain quiet, and
on the proper position of the lamp
for throwing a clear shadow.
But long before these shadow- 1
albums were thought of, people { hundred animals tumbled into the
had found out a capital way of opening all in a heap. Others fell
amusing little folks and them- 1 in on top of th«m and sank out of
.sja^
sight in atr^nkling. By this time
the rotten ice was breaking under
the still advancing herd. The
trappers say that in less than a
minute the whole body of buflfa-
loes had been precipitated into the
river. They were wedged in so
thickly that they could do nothing
but struggle for a second and
then disappear beneath the cakes
of ice of the swift current. Not %
beast in all that might]^ herd tried
to escape, but in a solid phalanx
tlfty marched to their fatal bath
in the " Big Muddy. " In a min-
ute from the time the first ice
broke not a bufialo's head or tail
was to be seen.
Possibly occurrences of this
sort, in ancient tertiary times,
helped to form the remarkable
deposits of bones found in the old
lake beds of the great West and
elsewhere. In these deposits the
earth is literally crowded with
bones, sometimes chiefly of one
type, sometimes comprising many
distinct species. In the latter case
the victims were probably swept
away by sudden floods, their re-
mains minglingconfusedlyinquiet
basins. — Scientific American.
We Know of nothing more fa-
tal to the accomplishment of any
thing in an intellectual way than
the idea that many persons get.
tha 1 1 he y m list defer study till some
period ill life when thoy shall have
no interruptions. They allow ten
minutes here and half an hour
there to run to waste, because it
seems hardly worth while to at-
tempt study for so short a time
We have known persons, by avail-
ing themselves of a few minutes'
time each day, gain, during a year.
an extensive acquantance with
some particular branch of study ;
whileothers, who would not econ-
omize the minute.s had scarcely a
useful acquisition.- TAe Hou!>eh«lil.
$H9
;;
60
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
ABOUT POISON-IVY.
At this season of the year, when
no many of our youn^ folks are
gatherinff wild flowers, ferns,
berries, leaves and mosses in the
woods and along the hedges, I
c innot think of a more useful les-
son in wood and field botany than
that which teaches how to know
and distinguish two of the most
poisonous vegetable substances
to be met with in the woods. I
moan the poison-ivy, poison-o^,
and mercnry-vine, which are the
common names for one and the
same vine found climbing up the
trunks of trees, on rail, board and
stone fences, over rocks and
bushes, in waste lands and mead-
ows. In fact everywhere and
anywhere it can secure a foot oi
ground, no matter how poor, or
how mach exposed to the scorch-
ing rays of the sun, thif ivretched
vine prospers, happy and conten-
ted to spread out its poisonous
arms hidden beneath itsarlossy and
graceful foliage. In Fig. 1 is
shown a close study from nature
of a specimen growmg at the sea
side. When the ivy has a chance
to climb up a tree or bush, up it
f;oes, throwing out its aerial root-
etsin all directions. But when
growing away from any support,
in the sand which ia being con-
stantly displaced by the strong
ocean winds, it then grows stout,
erect and bush-like. Under these
peculiar circumstances of growth
it has received the name of poison-
oak, and was supposed by many
botanists to be a separate variety,
though in fact the poison-ivy and
oak are one and the same thing.
When the stem of the poison-ivy
is wounded, a milky jnice issues
from the wound. The leaves
after being separated from the
vine, tarn black when exposed to
the air.
The stem of the vine is nearly
smooth in texture ; the aerial
rootlets (Fig. 1, AAA), which start
from all parts of the stem, are of
a bright browu colorwhen young.
The masses of berries when un-
ripe are of a light green color :
FIO. 1— POISON-IVT.
heavy bloom. In the fall of the
year the leaves turn to a deep red
and brownish-red color.
The poison-sumac, swamp-su-
mac, or dogwood (Fig. 8) is ten
times more severe in its poisoning
qualities than the poison-ivy. It
grows from six to ten feet in
height, in low marshy grounds.
The berries are smooth, white,
or dun-colored, and in form and
■mm
when ripe, of an ashen gray. Be-
low the mass of this year's berries
are generally to be found those
of last year The leaf has a
smooth and somewhat shiny tex-
ture, and curves downward from
the midrib. To many people the
slightest contact with the leaves
of the ivy will produce poisoning.
I have known of instances where
persons in passing masses of ivy-
vine, particularly when the wind
was blowing from the vine to-
ward the passer-by, became
severely poisoned. Une of our
most beautiful native vines, the
so-called Virginia creeper, which
frequently grows side by side, r »c ■ i
with the ivv, is often mistaken for wreaths and bunches of artiBcial
it. and blamed for the evil doings flowers inside and outside of
of its neighbor, and yet is so in- ladies bonnets The flower-
uocent and beautiful a vino that makers, being hard pressed for
I have figured it in full fruit ( Fig, material, inade use of dried
2), The Virginia creeper has a ffrasses, seed-vessels, burrs, and
leaf consisting of five lobes, which
are distinctly nptched, and which
of villanoua berries on the top
and sides of the head, and a few
of the sprays about the ears and
on the forehead. Stepping into
the store, I addressed the pro-
prietress, and asked her if she
knew that the bonnet was
trimmed with the berries of one
of the most poisonous shrubs
known in the country. After
staring at me in a sort of puzzled
way, she informed me that I was
mistaken; that she had received
those flowers from Paris only a
week aso.
" Madam," I replied, " there
must be a mistake somewhere,
for those aie the berries of the
poison-sumac, which does not
grow in Bnrope."
8he gave me one angry look,
asked me to please attend to my
own business, and swept away
from me to the other end of the
store.
A few days after this I read in
the daily papers an account of the
poisoning of a number of small
girls employed in a French arti
ncial flower manufaotory in
Greene Street. I at on ('>> guessed
the causew I visited the factory
mentioned, introduced myselfto
the proprietor, told him what 1
knew about the poison berries —
and was rudely requested to make
myself scarce. After these two
adventures I made up my mind
to keep my botanical knowledge
(poisonous though it might be) to
myself.
When poisoned with ivy or
sumac (they are all sumacs).
Size closely resemble those of the , jf t^^^ ,„^ g^ij^g medicines are
^^y- I taken, the poison will slowly ex-
This suiUHi' is terrible in its ef- ! haust itself ; but it is a tedious
fects ol'teii causing temporary and slow operation. — Harper'i
blindness. Some years ago it be-
came the fashion to wear immense
curve
r>V>/'
no. 2. — VIHOINIA CBKKPI I .
upward from the midrib,
Instead of aerial
rootlets like the
ivy, it has stout
K^^ tendrils more or
'"^ " less twisted and
curled, often as-
suming the form
of a spiral spring.
These tendrils are
provided with a
disk by means ol
which an attach-
ment JN inado to
any object within
reach (see Fitr 2.
13 B )
The stem has the
appearance ot be-
in-r jointed. The
berries are lurire
and grape-like in
the form of the
duster, and when
ripe are of a deep
blue color, with
catkins ; these were painted, dyed,
frosted and bronzed to make them
attractive. I became greatly in-
terested in the business and the
ingenuity displayed,
and spent much time
examining the con-
tents of milliners' win-
dows. On one oc-
casion when standing
before a very fashion-
able milliner s window
on Fourteenth Street, I
was horror-stricken on
discovering that an
immense wreath of
grayish berries which
constituted the inside
trimming ol' a bonnet,
was composed eniirely
of the berries ol the
poison-snmac just as
they had b ( p n
^ra'heied, nota panicle
of varnish, bronze, or
other material coating
them. The bonnet,
when worn, would
bring this entire raaaa
Youn)^ People.
There is no Soil which, un-
der proper tillage, may noc be
made a garden. So there is no
heart orlife, however barren, that
may not, by cultivation under the
inspiration of Christ, be made
productive of every good word
and work.
FI0.8.— P0180N-9UM Ar
n
m the top
and a few
e ears and
>ping into
the pro-
ber ir she
nnet was
ies ofonu
as shrubs
try, Al't«r
of puzzled
that I was
d received
ris only a
Bd, " there
lomewhere,
ies of the
does not
ngry look,
ttend to ray
wept away
end of the
is I read in
count of the
ter of ^mall
•"rench art!-
ifactory in
n(;<^ guessed
the factory
d myself to
lim what I
tn berries —
sted to make
r these two
p my mind
I knowledge
night be) to
vith ivy or
ill sumacs),
adicines are
1 slowly ex-
s a tedious
n — Harper'i
, which, un-
may not be
there is no
barren, that
3u under the
it, be made
good word
-eMW
J
A TRUE
REPRINTEn STORIES, FROM T HK " NORTHERN MESSENGER.';^ fil
Tears pa|$edaway,and I sought to prove that, to become great, a Q
HISTORY
BOYS.
OF TWO
II
BY THE REV. R. U. CRAIQ,
They attended the same school,
sat side by side on the same seats,
vied with each other in the same
classes, played the school-games
together, and were to each other
ns brothers. They were am
bitions, and often spoke of the
future "when they would be men
ol distinction," and even in boy-
hood began to plan about the
best way of obtaining a classical
education, which they considered
indispensable tu success. Their
lathers were men of
limited means, having
to work hard for the
support of their child-
len, and never dreamed
of giving their boys an
education higher than
that furnished by the
common schools. In
the village school, how-
over, these boys hud an
excellent teacher, who
taught them more than
how to read and write
and do sums. He in-
spired them with the
idea ot" workiii!^ for
themselve8,and lostered
their ambition to rise
in the world without
Ihe help ot others, by
using for that purpose
all honorable means
with perseverance and
a will.
Already each had got
hold uf a Latin grammar,
and they were conning
oviT " penna, pennie,
pi'Miiro," to the utter as-
tonishment of their fel-
low-pupils, while the
still more puzzling my-
stery was declared that
the angle A. B. C. is
equal to the angle D. E.
F. D. and that z is equal
toanythingin this world.
While quite younir
the boys left school,
taking charge of schools
of their own as teachers,
hut still pursuing the
path which to each
seemed to point out the
way to the object of their
ambition. John had the
credit of being just a
little brighter than his
li'llow. but James had
the reputation of being n young
man of excellent character ; and
it was a matter of some amuse-
ment to his rival to learn that
when he became a teacher, wish-
ing to mould the character of his
scholars, he had openly espoused
the canse of temperance and re-
fused to touch, taste or handle
that which could hurt the body
or mind of others. John claimed
to be as temperate as James, but
said he would not run to such
foolishextremesby tiikingpledges,
joining Rechabites, and nil tlint
sort of nonsense.
And so these two young men
struck out in difTorent directions.
John taught his school and reatd
his Virgil and Homer, and, when
fatigued with close study and
late hours, sometimes he refreshed
himself with a glass of wine.
" Pugh ! " said he to the expos-
tulations of his friend, James,
when they happened to meet
after two or three years' separa-
tion, " if I never do worse than to
take a glass of wine, I do not
think much harm can come to me."
" That may be," said James,
" but so many do come to harm
that I would not run the risk for
all the good it does."
the two young men. I knew
where to find one of them, but
was not certain about the other.
After many enquiries I knocked
at the door of an obscure house
in an obscure street, and in re-
sponse there came to the door a
man, John, who had the reputa-
tion of being a Hue scholar, know-
ing Latin and Greek, Hebrew
and Arabic, French and German ;
but I noticed that he had hard work
to stand steadily on his feet for
the few moments I spoke to him,
and his tongue was evidentl/too
large for distinct communication.
AHMED AT ALL POINTS.
" Nothing refreshes me so much
after a hard night's study as a
glass of sherry," responded John,
with earnestness ; " and I think
if you but knew the value of it
you would try it. Young men
like us have no much study to do
that we must have something to
keep up our strength ; and I hope
we are not foolish enough to hurt
ourselves."
" I think my strength will last
as long as yours," said James ;
" besides, when I do not feel the
need, I do not care to risk the
danger. I can get along well
enough without such helps."
man must rule his own spirit
and shun the very appearance of
evil.
" But what i^ecame of the other
young man ? " you ask. The
question can be answered in a
very few words. About six
months after I last saw him he
died suddenly in a fit of aelirivvi
tremens, and was laid in a drunk-
ard's grave.
And so the history of these two
boys comes out in perfect har-
mony with the principles of char-
acter which each planted for him-
self. There is little difficulty in
predicting results ; "For
whatsoever a man sow
eth that shall ho also
reap. Forhe that soweth
to the flesh shall of the
flesh reap corruption ;
but he that soweth to
the spirit shall of the
spirit reap life everlast-
ing." — .iVfto York Ob-
server
THK LION HEART.
King Richard I. of
England was surnamed
Coeur de Lion from his
great bravery and gr-at
physical strength. In
his youth he fought
against his father and
his brothers, and after
coming to the English
throne joined the crusade
to fight for possession
of the Holy Land. He
delighted in war and
bloodshed, and as a con-
sequence always had
plenty to fight against.
His subjects who fought
under his banner ad-
mired and loved him,
but the rulers who
fought with him against
the Saracens could not
stand his temper and as-
sumptionsol superiority.
This,more Ihananything
else, caused Ihe want of
Kuccessofthe crusade, On
Richard's return home
he was shipwrecked in
the Adriatic sea, and
whileseekingto continue
his journey by land
was captured by Leopold
DukeofAustria.whomhe
had grossly insulted,
and was surrendered
by him to the Emperor
utter wreck at] Henry VI, who confined him in
of age, and I several castles. Hewasfinally liber-
sorrow and in i ated by ransom, returned to Eng-
land, which he found was being
He seemed an
thirty-live years
turned away in
shame.
I sought the lodgings of James, i ruled by his brother John whom he
He was a college graduate and forgave, and then began war with
was busy preparing to stand a Frnnce. While attacking the city
special examination for a high of Chains in 1199 he was shot by
academic degree. He showed | an arrow and the wound was so
me a "call" which he had recent-! unskillully treated that he died,
ly received from an important I The picture we give of him may
church, urging him to become ' not be a very good likeness but it
its pastor, and ne told me that he illustrates the manner in which
probably would accept it. He the knights in those days dressed
was still a temperance man — a j themselves for war, with chain-
man of sterling principle and 1 armor, sliield and lance, a load in
splendid mind; and he still '-ves| themselves.
iH9
f^HBP
;;
^2 REPRINTED STORIES, FRQM THE "NORTHERN
METAMOBPHOSIS OF THE DEER'S
ANTLERS.
Every year in March the deer loses it ant-
lers, andiresh onesvnmediately begin to grow,
which exceed in size those that have just
l)i>en lost. Few persons probably have been
able to watch and observe the habits of the
animal after it has lost its antlers. It will,
therefore, be of interest to examine the a<>
companyine drawing, by Mr. L, Beckmanii,
showing a deer while shedding its antlers. In
the illustration the
animal has inst lost
one of its antlers, and
f rii^ht and pain have
caused it to throw-
its head upward
and become disturb-
ed and uneasy.
The remaining ant-
l)>r becomes soon de-
tached from its base,
and the deer turns
— as if ashamed of
having lost its orna-
ment and weapon
— lowers its head,
and sorrowfully
moves to the adjoin-
ing thicket, where
it hides. A friend
once observed a
deer losing its ant-
lers, but thecircum-
.stances were some-
what different. The
animal was jumping
over a ditch, and as
soon as it touched
the further bank it
jumped high in the
air, arched its back,
bent its head to one
Hide in the manner
of an animal that
has been wounded,
and then sadly ap-
proached the nearest
thicket, in the same
manner as the artist
has represented in
the accompanying
picture. Both ant-
lers dropped off and
foil into the ditch.
Strong antlers are
generally found to-
gether, but weak
ones are lost at inter-
vals of two or three
days.
A few days after
this loss the stumps
upon which the ant-
lers rested are cover-
ed with a skin,
whichgrowsupward
very rapidly, and
under which the
t'renh antlers are
formed, so that by
the end of July the
bucks have new and strong ant-
lers, from which they remove the
line hairy coverinEr by rubbing
them against young trees. It is
peculiar that the huntsman, who
knows everything in regard to
deer, and has seventy-two signs
l)y which he can tell whether i\
male or female deer
J. through the woods,
i I know
METAMORPHOSIS.OF DEER 8 ANTLERS,
its first antlers and how the ant-
lers indicate the age of the
animiil. Prof, Altum, in Ehers-
walde, has given some valuable
n formation in regard to the rela-
tion between the age of the deer
iMid the forms of their antlers, but
in some respects he has not ex-
passcs I pressed himself very cloorly, and
does not 1 1 think that my observations giv-
at what age the deer gets | en in addition to his may be of
importance. When the animal i.s
a year old — that is, in June — the
burs of Ihe antlers begin to form,
and in July the animal has two
protuberances of the size of wal-
nuts, from which the first
branches of the antlers rise ; these
©H»
MESSENGER.;; '
branches are formed, which are considerably '
longer and much rougher at the lower ends
than the first. The third pair of antlers is
diflerent from its predecessors inasmuch as it
has " roses," that is, annular ridges around the
bases of the horn, which latter are now bent in
the shape of a crescent. Either the antler has
a single branch (Fig. 8, a), or besides thepoint
it has another short end, which is a most rare
shape, and is known as a " fork" (Fig. 8, b), or
it has two forks (Fig. 8, c). In the following
year the antlers take the form shown in Fig.
4, and then follows
the antler shown in
Fig. 5, a, which
generally has
" forks" in place of
points, and is
known as forked
antler in contradis-
tinction to the
point antler shown
in Fig. 5, b. which
retains the shape of
the antler, Fig. 4,
but has additional
or inte rmediate
prongs or branches.
The huntsman de-
signate the antlers
by the number of
ends or points on
the two antlers.
For instance. Fig. S
a is a six ender ; Fig.
6. b shows an eight
ender, etc. ; and ant-
lers have been
known to have as
many as twenty-
two ends. If the
two antlers do not
have the same num-
ber of ends, the
number of ends on
the larger antler is
multiplied hf two
and the word " odd"
is placed before Ihe
word designating
Ihe number of ends.
For instance, if one
antler has three ends
and the other four,
the antler would be
termed "odd" eight
ender. The sixth
antler shown in Fig.
6 is a ten ender, and
appears in two dif-
ferent forms, either
with a fork at the
upper end, as shown
in Fig. 6, a, or with
a crown, as shown
inFig. 6, ft. In Fig.
7 an antler isshown
which the animal
carries from its se-
venth year until the
month of March of
its eighth year.
From that time on
the crowns only increase and
change. The increase in the
number of points is not always
.IS regular as I have described it,
for in years when food is scarce
and poor the antlers are weak
ind sninll, and when food is pleii-
branches having the length of a lil'ul and rich the antlers grow ex-
linger only, or being even shorter, I ceedingly large, and sometimes
as shown at 1 in diagram. Af-lskip an entire year's growth.—
ter the sacond yeisr more Karl Brandt.
(iM^-
^H»
r
REI'RINTKr) STOHIKS. h'ROM Till', ' NORTHERN MKSSKNCJER"
I
THB TIN SAVINGS'- BANK.
Charles Lynford was a clever
journeyman fitter in one of our
large iron works, in good work
and earning good wages. At the
age of twenty-six he married Oaro-
line Eustice, the daughter of a
neighbor, who, although she had
no money dowry, yet brought him
many personal qualificationB.com-
bined with habits of thrift, learn-
ed under a clever. God-fearing
mother in an economical house-
hold under the stern teachings of
necessity.
It was well perhaps that
Charles Lynfordobtained a wife
of this character, since he himself
found it very difficult to save any-
thing from his weekly Wages.
Caroline s«on became acquaint-
ed with her husband's failings.
She was uneasy on finding that
they were living fully up to their
income. She looked forward also
to a time when their family ex-
penses would grow larger, and
possibly her husblmd's wages
might become less.
After much thought,and praying
lor God's guidance, she purchased
of a pedler who came to the door
a little tin safe, such as children
commonly use as the money-box.
This she placed in the front of
the mantelpiece, where Oharles
would be sure to see it.
On entering he called out,
" Hello, Carrie, what's that?"
" Only a little purchase that I
made to-day," said his wife.
" But whatever is it meant for ?"
he asked.
" Let me explain it to yon,
Charles," said his wife, playfully.
" Have you sixpence in ^our
pocket?"
Charles held oat a sixpence.
His wife took it from his hand
and gently dropped it into the
box throash a slit in the top.
Charles laughed.
" So you have taken to hoard-
ing, Carrie. Has my little wife
become a miser?"
" No, only a little prudent. But,
seriously, Oharles, that is just
what I want you to do every
week-day night."
"What! drop sixpence into
this new-fangled invention of
yours?"
" Exactly."
" Very well, that will be easy
enough ; sixpence is no great
sum. But may I ask what you
are going to do with this newly-
commenced hoard ?"
" Lay it by for a rainy day,"
answered Caroline.
Charles laughed heartily.
" And what will sixpence a
day amount to ?" he inqnired.
" In a year it will amount "
commenced his wife, seriously.
" Oh, never mind — spare me
the calculation I"
" But you don't object to my
plan, Charles, do you ?"
" Not in the least, I have no
doubt it is very prudent and
commendable; but you know,
Carrie, I never was gifted with
much foresight or prudence."
" Yes, Charles. I am well aware
that what you say is true," said
his wife, smiling.
This ended the conversation for
the time.
# * * # *
The plan inaugurated by the
yonng wife was steadily carried
out. Caroline was not one of
those who eagerly enter upon a
new plan and soon tire of it. No ;
she was thoroughly satisfied of
the wisdom of her purpose, and
resolved by God's blessing to car-
ry it through. Every morning
she asked her husband for six-
pence, which was forthwith add-
ed to the accumulation. Some-
times Charles had not sixpence in
change, but he had shillings. One
of these he would then toss to his
wife instead ! And she would
assure him, laughingly, that this
would answer her purpose equal-
ly as well !
More than once Charles would
banter his wife on the subject of
her tin savings' -bank, but this she
always bore with significant
smiles.
The sixpences and the shillings
of the husband were not the only
accessions that the tin box re-
ceived. Charles had early ar-
ranged to make his wife an ample
allowance for dress, but, like a
wise better-half of a working man,
she made her own dresses, and
thus provided herself with a de-
cent wardrobe at a mnch less cost
than some women not so well
versed in the science of household
management could have done.
After considerable thought and
calculation, Carrie came to the
conclusion that out of her allow-
ance for dress she could make a
daily deposit equal to that which
she exacted from her husband !
Of this, however, she thought it
best at the present time not to in-
form Oharles, enjoying in antici-
pation the prospect of being able
at some future time to surprise
him with the unexpected amount
of her savings. At the close of
every month, Caroline opened her
tin box, and carefully transferred
the contents to a Sarings'-Bank of
higher pretensions, and where
.interest was allowed.
Of his wife's mode of manage-
ment of the money, the husband
remained in complete ignorance.
Nor did he ever express any de-
sire to know where it went to.
He was an easy, careless fellow,
spending as he went, enjoying the
present, and, like too many men,
alas I not feeling any particular
concern about the future.
At the end of eight years, da-
ring which Charles Lynford had
been favored with constant work
and uninterrupted health, his ac-
count books showed that his ex-
penses]) had not exceeded his in-
come for he saw that there was
half a crown on the credit side !
" That's running pretty close,
isn't it, Carrie?" he said, laughing-
ly. "I take credit to myself for
keeping on the riffht side of the
line. But then I suppose that
you have saved up a good snm ?"
"How much do you think?"
asked his wife.
"Oh, perhaps twenty -five
pounds," said Charles.
His wife smiled, but did not
volunteer to enlighten him as to
the correctness of his conjecture.
So things went on, until there
came a panic in the iron trade^
a panic so severe that tens of
thousands of working men and
their families were afiTected by it ;
and amongst them w«i8 Charles
Lynford and his wife !
One eveningCharles came home
looking very sad — s rare thing
with him. Caroline, who had
watched the signs of the times,
was not unprepared for her hus-
band's sad look. She had expec-
ted that the trade of the great iron
works would be afiected.
" What is the matter, Charles?"
she asked cheerfully.
" The matter is, Carrie, that we
shall have to economize greatly,"
he replied.
" Anything unfavorable at the
works, Charles ?"
"I should think there was. I
shall be put on ' half-time ' next
week, and I am afraid that even
that will tail before long. Yoa
have no idea, Carrie, how dull
business of every kind has be-
come, and especially in our trade.
" IHhink I have, Charles," said
his wife quietly. " I have read a
little in the paper lately, and have
been looking ont for something
of this kind."
" Do you think we can reduce
our expenses one half?" asked
the husband doubtfully.
I do think we shall be able
to do so," said Caroline.
" But, suppose my work should
entirely fail, I imagine that, clever
as you are, you couldn't reduce
our expenses to nothing at all,
could you ?"
" That certainly surpasses my
power, Charles," said Carrie smil-
ing ; " but even in that case there
is no ffround for discouragement.
You nave not forgotten our tin
savings'-bank, have you ?"
" Well, now, I didn't think of
that," said her husband. " I sap-
pose that would keep the wolf
from the door for a fe a weeks ?"
His wife smiled !
" And in those weeks," after a
pause, she added, smilingly,
" business might revive. '
" To be sure," said Charles.
" Let us hope that it will be all
right. " I'll try to ' trust and not
be afraid,' and I'll thank God
more and more for my clever and
thoughtful wife."
The apprehensions to which
Charles Lynford had given ex-
pression, proved to be only too
well founded. In loss than a
month from the day on which the
above conversation took place, the
large iron works were " closed,"
and Oharles, with two thousand
other hands, was without work or
wages.
Although Charles Lynford had
anticipated this, yet it was a fear
f.3 J
ful blow when it came, and he
again returned home in deep sor-
row. He briefly explained to his
wife the terrible calamity which
had come upon him.
"And the worst of it is," he
added, " there is no hope of better
times until spring. However
■hall we get through the winter,
Carrie ?"
"Do you think, Oharles, that
business will revive in the
spring ?"
"Oh, yes, onr masters said
they had every hope that a change
for the better in our trade would
take place in the spring, but then
there are frooi five to six months
between now and then. I don't
know how we are to live during
the winter months."
" I do, Charles. Let ns kneel
down and thank God that it is
possible for me to say, 'Idol' "
" You !" exclaimed her astonish-
ed husband.
" Yes, I do, Charles. We can
live on fifty pounds for six
months."
" Of coarse we can, but wher-
ever is that large sum to come
from ? I don't want to run in
debt, and if I did, I shouldn't
know where to borrow such a
sum as that."
" Fortunately there is no need
of that, Charles. Yon seem to
forget our little tin box !"
" But is it possible the contents
can amount to fifty pounds ?" ex-
claimed Charles, in surprise.
" Yes, and one hundred pounds
more," replied the delighted wife
to her astonished husband.
"Impossible, Carrie !"
" Wait a minute, Charles, and 1
will prove it."
Caroline withdrew with a light
step for a few moments, and then
reappeared with her Savings'-
Bauk book. She opened it, and
pointed to a sum of over One
Hundred and Fifty Pounds
standing to her credit !
" Are you quite sure, Carrie,
that yon haven't had a legacy left
you ?" demanded Charles, in
amazement. " Surely sixpence a
day has never produced this ?"
"No, but a shilling a day has,
with a little extra deposit now
and then. I think, Charles, that
we shall, if God be pleased to
spare our lives, be able to ward
ofi" starvation for a time."
" All this I owe to your pru-
dence, my dear Carrie," said
Charles, gratefully. " How can
I repay you?"
Charles Lynford remained out
of employment until the spring.
but then, as anticipated, trade re-
vived, and he was again in re-
ceipt of his old wages. More than
two-thirds of Carrie's fund was
still left, and henceforth Charles
was no less assiduous than his
worthy wife in striving to in-
crease its contents.
The little tin savings'-box still
stands on the mantelpiece, and
never fails to receive a deposit
daily — Britith Workman.
iH^
«4»
64
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
ANOTHER TALK WITH
UNCLE PHILIP.
BT E. V IfOBBT.
A little hnrried knock was heard
at the door, and Uucia Philip, on
opening it, found a group of
children, with evea tparkling and
oheeka rosy with excitement.
" O Uncle Philip !" cried Annie
eagerly, "what do you think
Charlie haa ?"
"A bird, I expect," said Uncle
Philip, smiling.
"Oh, yes, a lovely little hum-
ming-bird," answered three or
four voices in chorus. " He shot
him with water from his pop-gun,
and stunned him." .
Uncle Philip took the tiny-
half a walnut-she|l, and they are 'could scarcely see them beyond
beantiful, cup-shaped little homes, tho feathers ? Its wings, too, are
often placed in the fork of a so long and narrow that they
branch. Tho outside is exauisite- ' seem to go by you like a flash of
ly decorated with pieces of lichen, colored lisht; and the long slendur
and the inside is lined with the | bill and fiorous tongue seum to bo
finest silky fibres, a lovely bed ; perfect for exploring iiower-cnps.
^
m^/7//w
RUBY AND TOPAZ HTT.W MINO-BIRD.
winged creature tenderly in his
hand and laid it on a little cush-
ion of down in a large empty cage
covered with fine wire, which
hung in the sunshiny window,
among the honeysuckle flowers.
"There he said, "your little
captive will soon get over his
shower-bath and his fright, and
you can look at him for a while —
and then, Annie, what shall we
do with him ?"
" Uncle Philip, we will set
him free. Oh, I would not keep
him in a cage !"
" But we could do it," said
Johnnie, " and feed him on syrup
or honey."
" No," said Uncle Philip, " he
would not live on that. You
would have to give him ants to
cat as well as honey, or some
meat and egg chopped very fine.
The honey of flowers is not his
only diet, if he does look so dainty
and fairy-like. But we must not
keep him in prison, for I think he
has a little nest of his own."
"Oh!" exclaimed Annie in de-
light. " Did you ever see a hum-
ming-bird's nest ?" Tell us how
large i t is, and of what i t is made."
Some are no larger inside than
for their one or two tiny white
egn ; but all their nesta are not
alike, for you see there are no less
than four hundred different
species of humming-birds, and of
course their homes are different
too."
" Four hundred !" repeated
Johnnie. " I am surprised that
there should be so many ! I would
like to hear about some of the
nests made by the others. What
little house-builders they are !"
" Some of them hang their tiny
nests to creepers and vines which
grow over the water, or even over
the sea; and a Pidunclea hum-
ming-bird is said, by Mr Wallace,
to have fastened its nest to a straw-
rope hanging from a roof. Others
build theirs like miniature ham-
mocks attached by spider's web
to the face of the rocks ; while the
little creatures, that dart here and
there through the green forest
shade like living gems, fasten
their nests on the under side of
palm-leaves or tree branches."
" These humming-birds are so
swift and brilliant, their throats
and breasts glow with sucIAich,
warm, shining colors, that I can-
not fancy them as living any-
where but in a land of flowers, a
tropical forest or a southern
island," said Annie's older sister.
" Do you ever find them in cold
countries ?"
"There is an Antartic humming-
bird that has been seen in Terra
del Fuego, haunting the fnschia
flowers ; and in the summer there
are two kinds of humming-birds,
the ruby-throat and the flame-
bearer, that visit Canada and the
Northern part of America, and
build their little nests and bring
up their young birds here, but at
the approach of winter they are
on the airy road to the sunshine
and blooming fields of Mexico."
He walked to the cage where the
bird sat uneasily turning its little
head quickly from side to side, and
fluttering against the fine wires.
He opened the door with a smile
at the children's eager faces, and
soon the bright wings had flown
past, and were flitting through
the flowers outside, and swiftly
speeding away far out of sight.
" That tiny wanderer and his
companions have been known to
travel three thousand miles to-
ward the South. Think what
visions of flowers must stir in the
little birds' throbbing hearts in all
that long journey ! Not of flowers
alone, perhaps, but of great forest
trees, and the small insects on
their leaves and stems, and the
rapid dart and dive through the
air by which they catch them !"
" They seem to be made for a
life in the air. Uncle Philip," said
Katie. " Did you notice the deli-
cate little feet, so short that yon
But
and seizing their tiny prey while
they are circling over and above
in flight."
' V es," said Uncle Philip, " I
am glad, dear child, to see that
you noticed it so closely,
there are some of this family
so small — their bodies are
h«rdly larger than a bum-
ble-bee — that when they
they are whirling by you,
you can scarcely perceive
their shape.''
" Their colors are differ-
ent, aren't they. Uncle
Philip?"
" Oh, yes. See, here are
some colored prints of them.
Almost all have some green,
shining like metals, but
there ate rich blues and
purples, and glowing red
hues. I cannot fancy any-
thing so perfect as this rnby
spot, or this glittering gold-
en-green, or this melting
sapphire-blue. And look at
their crested heads — tho
frills and rnfls around their
necks — and their tails, some
pure white, and pointed
like a star, some long or
round and with the richest
colors imaginable. These
bright hues are on their
breasts and tails and heads,
so that as they dart down,
they gleam and disappear,
and then shine out again
and change their color as
they move, with the most
startling and beautiful ef-
fect."
" What a funny little one
this is," said Annie, holding
up a print ; " he has a crest
and a beard. And here is
one with a crown on his
head, and a breast like a
burnished shield ; and there
is a little bird with long
feathers from his neck."
"Did you notice the sound,
the humming of the wings,
when the humming-bird
was near you ?" asked their
uncle.
" Yes, I have often listen-
ed to it ; but he whirls away
so quickly he doesn't give
one much time to make ob-
servations," said Johnnie
with a laugh. " He shoots away ,
like a skyrocket, then presently
here he is again, pirouetting
around the honeysuckle like a
waltzer, and again he is whizzing
and buzzing away over the far-
thest flower-beds.'
" They do not move like other
birds, and this swift, whirring
flight secures them so well from
attack that they are not usually
timid, and will come neater to
you than any other bird, some-
times approaching within a yard
or two of your face. I often have
them come to these honeyraokle
flowers while I am sitting beside
the window reading or writing,
and I have several times seen the
passionate little creature tear the
flower entirely open with his
keen, sharp bill if he could not
get the honey as quickly at he
wished, and then with an impa-
tient whirr shoot away in anothw
direction."
" It seems as funny as if a fairy
were in a rage," said Annie.
HLKKDER SHEAR-TAIL HUMMINO-BIRn.
SWORD-BILL HUMMINQ-BIRD.
" Uncle, I should like to see them
at home and quiet for a little
while like other birds."
" I think we ought to go now,"
said Katie, hesitatingly ; " but,
Uncle Philip, we may come again
some time, may we not ?"
" Yes, indeed," he replied with
a smile. " I shall be glad to see
you."
" Oh, thank you. Wo have had
such a happy time," added Annie,
with a warm embrace and kiss 4s
they departed. — IUutt,ated Chrif
Ua» Weekly.
#Hi
gm
to ae« them
for a little
to go now,"
gly; "but,
7 come a((aiu
lot r
replied with
glad to Bee
Wo have hi»<i
dded Annie,
e and kiss a
haled Chm-
i
YEMA.
BY RKV. J H DE FOHK8T, OflAKA,
JAPAN.
Mnch has been written abont
the temples of Japan— their idels
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
ish. So he went to the temple of
his ^od and lublicly offered this
tempurance pledge. This is his
prayer for Divine help.
Now foreigners who visit Ji\-
paii, of couTBo visit the temples.
A TEMPKBANCK PLEDOK.
i;reat and small ; their sweet-toned
bells; their jolly priests, and their
ways of worship. But even the
best books tell us very little about
the Yema, or sacred pictures,
that hang in the temple galleries.
I have spent hours again and
again in studying these paintings,
and in learning the meanings of
them from the chatty worshippers.
And since they have given me so
much pleasure, as well as insight
into the Japanese character, I
gladly turn showman for a few
moments, and exhibit some pic-
tures that were copied for me by
Mr Yonedau, a Christian.
The first one is a sake-cup on a
little tray. Right over the cup is
a .Tiipansse padlock, locked tight,
and the key thrown away. The
two large Chinese characters over
the cup mean. Respectfully of-
fered. You see these characters
on all the temple pictures. At the
left of the cup are two more char-
acters meaning, "Sworn off from
sake." Here then was a poor fel-
low whose love of strong drink
They see such pictures as this
but they cannot interpret them.
Then some of them write home
that drunkenness is unseen, al-
most unknown, in Japan ! Well,
look at this picture again, and no-
tice the spots all over it. You
have heard that the Japanese
have paper prayers that they chew
and throw at their gods. Not
only their gods, but these votive
pictures also are often covered
with these spit-ball prayers.
Among the pilgrims to this temple
are those who, seeing this locked
sake-cup, have said, " Ah, this is
just what I need." And so dozens of
them have thrown their soft, moist
prayers into it, and asked for like
strength from above. A friend
whom I took to the temple ex-
pressly to see this picture was so
taken with the story that, though
its original value is not over ten
or fifteen cents, he tried to buy it
of the priests with the generous
offer of $2i. But it hongs there
yet.
The second is of a man on his
qf^immi ill _J
1 i|
;
Wm\
M
IL^T^^^w
?B
Hh^hH^h
iilmi™r.JLliii?m^3^ \
'«!(
==8
^^1
^^^^.>
it
-^^^^^^^ 1^^^^
*s
^^^^^^^^^ « t
THE OAMBLKB'S BBFOBMATION,
mm\
was conquering him. He had
tried and tried to be moderate, or to
l>eatotal abstainer ; but he found
himself weak, unable to break the
habit Heknew,a8ev«rydrnnkard
I everywhere knows, that he
I must have help, or miserably pern
knees breaking to pieces some
dice. He is a gambler. He has
been drawn gradually into the
fascinating game, until at last,
reckless in his plays, he has lost
everything. He comes to himself
and sees that he must give up at
65 V
once this cursed habit, and, to, dream This hard-working farmer
make it sure, he offers this picture lies sleeping nndcr his heavy
of himself to his god. In the origi- 1 comfortabl.', with his head on his
mil picture his wife and child wooden pillow. In his dream ho
stand behind him, adding their sees these frisky foxes jumping
prayers to his that the god will joyfully ucrosshisbed and through
A BAILORS TIIANK-OFFEBINO.
hear his vow.
Sometimes in these votive pic-
tures of reformation there is a sly
reservation written on one side,
" good for five years." And I have
been told that while the memory
of former sufiering is keen, and
the superstitious fear remains, the
vow will be kept. But as the old
desire grows strong'er with con-
tinual temptations, the reformed
man will sometimes say, " I've
kept my vow a year : four years
are left. That will make eight
years of days, and leave me the
nights for drinking and gamb-
ling."
Wo come next to two pictures
of thanksgiving. A sailor hashad
a prosperous voyage. The Rising
Sun has daily greeted him, and
favoring breezes have filled his
the air — their tails out straight
and their mouths splitting with
fox-laughter. When the farmer
wakes up he too will laugh, for the
fox is the messenger of the god of
rice and to see a messenger of any
of the gods is a sign of good luck.
There are cart-loads of such pic-
tures in these temples — dreamers
with monstrous snakes crawling
around them, dreamers with
poisonous centipedes in their
bosoms ! Then instead of wak-
ing thankful that it wasn't true, as
we should, they awake glad to
have been honored with a
dream of the messengers of
the gods. And I think, too,
that these dreamers of beasts and
reptiles are waking up out of this
nonsense of ages. They are
already beginning to laugh at
THE farmer's dream.
sails. Ho thinks it a duty and
privilege to acknowledge the
favor of his god with this picture
ofhisjnnk. Theie are thousands of
these hung in the temples of Ja-
pan.
Last of all comes a picture of a
themselves. And when they
onto use the reason God has
given them, their repentance,
their gratitude, and their desires
will find a truer and nobles ex-
pression than by Yema. — Mission- ff I
ary Hetaid. ' *
66
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.
naturalist Cuvier (rave the name
of the Megatherum, the ffiaut
Sloth of the early ages of the
world. Its skeleton is not as
large as that of an elephant, it is
true, but it surpasses in bulk
those of the hippopotamus and
rhinoceros, and therefore it is not
probable that it lived such a
simply arboreal life as its smaller
successors, climbing from branch
to branch, and rocked in their
leafy cradle by the wind.
It was, however, so formed as
to possess every means of self-
support in its great forest world,
and also of self-defeuco, though a
monstrous tiger called the " sabre-
tooth," on account of its long,
sharp teeth, was often its assail-
ant. But the tiger found its
match even for these in the three
long, large, curved, sharp-pointed
and consequently we find him
possessed of two might v hind
legs, which were not so long as
those ot the elephant, but were
twice as thick and massive, and a
tail which was sufficiently firm-
jointed, long, and heavy to form
with the heavy hind legs a sub-
stantial tripod which could well
assist the Megatherium in his
work. The front limbs, which
wore used for seizing the tree,
plex in development, being al-
most as perfect as the arms and
hands of man for the purpose for
which they were designed.
We can, in imagination, see this
gigantic animal raised on its power-
ful hind legs, and tugging, riving,
and swaying the root-loosened
AN OLD-FASHIONED ANI-
MAL.
BT HISS X. F. MOSBT.
In the forests of South America,
ages and ages ago, there lived
enormous animals which are now
extinct, and are known only by
their bones which have been dis-
covered embedded in the soil.
But although they lived so long
ago, and were so different in size
from the creatures that now pos-
sess their ancient haunts, there is
a likeness and a kinship existing
between them. When the little
French visitors to the Jardiu du
Roi (the garden of the king), in
PuriN, crowd to see the foreign
animals that are on exhibition
there, they are filled with amuse-
ment and wonder at a strange
quadruped which seems incapa-
ble of using its four long legs claws v.'hich the great Megather- j tree until it fell with a loud crash,
either to run or jump, or even ij-ium used in its combats. The its wide-spreading branches tear-
walk. It looks lazier than a grub ' present ant-eater of South Amo- jing into the soil beneath or rear-
er a beetle, and its name — the 1 rica has no ot'ier weapons than Jing tlu-niselves still high in the
Sloth — seems a very appropriate I similar sharp claws, and yet these I air. Then the feast began, and
title, for it
only crawls
along upon
the earth in a
weak and
helpless fash-
ion, its hands
and feet,
which are
armed with
sharp claws,
stretched out
aimlessly on the ground.
The trees in South America
grow^ in the valleys of the great
rivers in the greenest luxuriance,
every branch rustling thick with
leaves, and the trunk buried knee-
dei'p in long grasses. In the air
the vines, heavily laden with
foliage and blossoms, form aerial
and swaying bridges that throw
their strong arms from bough to
bough. Here the diminutive
.'^loth of to-day has its home, and
it no longer looks inert or awk-
ward when it has reached its true
habitat. This is not on the
earth's surface, nor on the water's, ! own against the jaguar and the long muscular and flexible
but in the forest that rises in " the puma. When it has once seized tongue, more like a rope than any-
aerial ocean." The creature can | a foe, no matter how desperate its ; thing el.se, having the same shape
neither run nor swim nor fly; but I own hurts or injuries may j as a giriifTe's.^ but twice as big,
it can climb, and it is indeed a bo, it will cling until death
if that were true, the Megather-
ium could escape being crushed
to death or killed by a blow from
some of the falling trees Y It now
appears that, although these ani-
mals became doubtless trained by
experience to dexterity in dodg-
ing such collisions, they did not
always escape unhurt. In a
skeleton of the Megatherium dis-
covered on the banks of the Vi\o
Platta the skull had two distino
pulling it roughly to and fro un- fractures, one completely healed,
til it gave way, and then hauling and the other, a more serious in-
it down, were powerful and com- jury to the back of the akull, evi
Gently the cause of the animal's
death. Each of the scan indica-
ted a stunning blow, which must
for a time have completely pros-
trated the huge creature ; and as
the first was cured and the last
had by no means caused instant
death — since sufficient time had
elapsed for the bone to begin a
new growth — neither could nave
been inflicted by a tiger's paw or
a hunter's club. Such enemies
would have finished their work
while their prey
lav defenceless.
The blow waH
without doubt
Trom somepassive
or inanimate
body.like the fall-
ing trunk or
bough of some
large tree. — Il-
lustrated Christian
Weekly.
SKELETON AND OUTUNE OF A MEQATHERIUM.
climber par excellence. Each
limb being terminated by two or
three long and strong hooks, with
these it could securely cling to
the branches, along these it mov-
ed, often rapidly; there was
nothing slothful in its arboreal
mode of progression. Suspended
always with its head and trunk
downwards, it so traversed
every branch and part of the tree
yielding food by leaf or fruit. In
that clinging attitude it rested,
suspending itself to sleep. Amid
the bou'.fli8 it so lived and bred,
the mother carrying her suckling
young securely clinging to her
neck.
In this same wild, sylvan coun-
try of South America there were
dug lip the fossil remains of some
enormous animal, to which the
Near the city
of Washington
little gray lizard. s
are plenty. They
grow lour or live
inches long, are
clean tothetoucli,
and make amus-
ingpets. A writer
for Our Li'</e Oho
says, " You wi 1
see them sittini:
on the walls and
fences in the sun.
suffice to enable it to hold its , this was enjoyed by means of the j You can catch them easily, if you
know how. You must go up to
them very slowly. If you make
a quick motion, they are oil.
When you get near enough, gras|)
swiftly a little before the lizard'.-*
nose. If you grasp on the spot
where he is you will only catch
the end of his tail. Now a lizard
drops his tail off as easily as a boy
loses his jack-knife; so if you
catch only the lizard's tail, you
lose the rest of the lizard. . . .
If you are kind to the lizard, and
tickle him gently with the end of
your finger.he will soon be tame
He will catch flies on the table,
and will also come and take in-
sects from your hand." The liz-
ards in the tropics are green, anil
golden, and red, and purple, ami
indeed all colors. They are
beautiful creatures, and may be
tamed like their gray cousins in
Virginia. But sometimes they
are very large and fierce."
re- i which could be used to browse
laxes its fierce and tenacious hold, i upon the leaves at will and bring
The Megatherium used his
claws on his hind feet for a dif-
ferent purpose than war. These
were limited in number, being
confined to one sub-compressed,
but large and sharp-pointed claw
them easily within reach. The
lower jaw is formed like a spout,
hollowed into a long, smooth
canal, in which the tongue lay,
and was thrust forward or drawn
back, gliding to and fro in quest
on each hind foot, the other toes of I's leafy repast. The Mega-
having no claws, but terminating i fheruim s teeth were equally as
in a sort of hoof, which gave the , wpH adapted for the mastication
animal a heavy but firm tread. 1 of Us vegetable food, grinding it
The two sharp claws served as "P to a pulp on their cross-ridged
pickaxes to dig away the soil , surface.
from the roots of the trees, and so I Dr. Buckland, when he first
loosen their foundations ; for, iii- heard the description which has
stead of climbing to ol)tnin his been given already of the Mega.
food, this giant leaf-devourer up-
rooted and tore down tho great
trees on which he was accustom-
ed to feed.
Of course, he needed a firm
base for such a tug and strain,
thorium's form and habits, urged
an objection which afterwards
was the means of furnishing ad-
ditional proof of its accuracy.
Doubting the possibility of such
a mode of feeding, he asked how.
\\\
"Qeniub is eternal patience."
i)H^-
III
\o Megather>
ing crashed
a blow from
u8 ? It now
h these «ni-
88 trained by
ity in dodg-
heydid not
lurt. In a
theriam dis-
8 of the Uii>
two dittino
Btely healed,
eerious in-
le akuU, eri-
the animal's
car* indica-
which must
>let(ily pros-
tore ; and as
and the last
used instant
nt time had
to begin a
r conld naro
ger's paw or
ich enemies
their work
s their prey
defenceless.
blow was
DTit doubt
somepassire
n a n i m a 1
,like the fall-
trunk or
h of some
tree. — i/-
tled Christian
\ly.
lAR the city
Washington
gray lizards
lenty. They
r lour or five
B8 long, arc
I to the touch,
mako amus-
iets. AwriliT
htr LiHIeOiiis
"You wi 1
:hem sittinu-
le walls and
tsin the buu.
easily, if you
1st go up to
If you maki'
ley are oil.
tiough,gra.s|i
) the lizard'.s
on the spot
II oi\ly cntch
Now a lizard
isily as a boy
; so if you
d's tail, you
zard. , . .
e lizard, and
Ih the end ol'
3on be tame.
n the table,
md take in-
I" The liz-
■e green, ami
purple, and
They are
and may bo
y cousins in
itimes they
Brce."
al patience."
ABOUT SPIDBBS.
The spiders belong \o the great
family of " Articulata," and in the
group are called " Arachnida." I
do not know how long ago this
niime was given to the spiders,
but it seems to have come from
Grecian mythology. Arachne, it
RKPRINTKD STORIKS. FROM
I first spun a long thread, and let
the wind blow it out length-wise,
in hope it would tind lodgment
on the shore. After having tried
this method of escape in vain, find-
ing the wind not strong enough
to aid him, ho resorted to another
ingenious experiment. Olimbing
to the top of the pole, he com-
,s satd, was a arecian lady in the ^^ ^^ ^^^^^^ ^ -^.^^^^ Walloon;
'""*ntS» "rnrZ V« lit !!} ^h"" «^<^^' »>« attached it toth;
spmnmfr So proud was she of| , ; ^ ^ , ^^t i„to it, and
nerart tbat she aspired to com.|g„ji^g ^^ too small, constructed a
larger one. Then seemingly
poto with the goddess Minerva ;
but her presumption was punish-
ed by her being transformed into
A spider. But though so humili-
atod, she yet retained her skill,
niid wove webs of wondrous
hiMiuty ; and so it comes to pass
that tne spider family are known
to naturalists as the Arachnida, or
" children of Arachne."
Now if our young readers hap-
pen to be so far advanced in their
studies in Natural History as to
be interested in the classincation
of the Arachnida, we will briefly
say that Linnoons and older na-
turalists used to call the spider an
"insect." But since Lamarck
they have been separated into a
distinct class. They have articu-
lated skeleton ; usually eight legs,
consisting of seven joints ; they
have from two to seven eyes — fix-
ed, not movable, but placed in
different parts of the head in the
different species to accommodate
their varied habits. They have
" falces," or mandibles, to seize
their prey, and maxillae, or what
might be called a mouth, to
squeeze and eat them.
Now we have done the scienti-
lie. Let us study one or two
species of the spider But before
we do that I would like to tell
you about the " web "
Most of the Arachnida live by
catching insects in nets which
they weave in bushes, on fences,
in outhouses, and not infrequent-
ly in our homes.
This web is a wonder of light-
ness, elasticity, and strength. It
is the strongest material of its size
known It comes from the spin-
neret, located in the rear of the
ibdomen of the animal, and is
composed of thousands of distinct
threads blended into one. Thii
satisfied he cut the guy-rope and
sailed away to land. Is not that
wonderful ?
We sometimes call the nets the
spiders weave in our houses cob-
webs. This comes from the
Dutch word for spider, " coppe."
Good housekeepers don't like to
acknowledge having seen them
in the corners of their rooms, but
rilK "NOHTHKRN MKSSKNG
like to describe in brief three
varieties of the Arachnida that
have always seemed to us very
interesting specimens of the fam-
ily.
First, the Trap-Door Spider.
" JUt/ifulenittulaiis," I'lmnd not only
in the West Indies, but in Cali-
fornia. This spider lives in the
ground, does not spin iv web for
catching insects, but clmses and
captures them upon the ground.
His home is a marvel of skill. He
digs a perpendicular hole in the
earth where there is a slope, so
that water may not interfere with
him. He then lines it with a silk-
en web more beautiful than any
regal tapestry. He constructs a
door of earth on the upper side,
made to look just like the ground
about it, while on the inner side
there is the same silken lining and
hinges of the same material, so
T
•In
THE WEB AND ITS VirTI.Mfl.
a spider can weave one
blending accounts for its great in the night, it ought not always
strength This apparatus and in- , to be a sign of untidiness,
stinctwere furnished the spider Hogarth, in one of his pictures, re-
longago,long before men thought presents neglected charity by
of twisting together many strands sketching a spider-web over the
of wire to make a strong and ; aperture of the collection-box ;
pliant rope • These webs are also and one of our modern poets, m
elastic, and yield to the strain of describing the peace that has
the wind or "the spider's weight.
The strands are also covered with
a viscid humor or paste, that not
only keops the intersections of the
web glued fast, but, like birdlime,
fastens the prey to the meshes
These webs o*" the spider are not
only used as nets and air-sieves to
catch its prey, but sometimes his
spinnerets afford him the means
to escape from danger. Seth
Q-reen, the fish-raiser, tells us of
an observation of his. He placed
^ a pole in the middle of a little
! • pond, and put a spider on it.
m^
peace
fratricidal
It
the
followed our Iratncidal war,
weaves a spider's web over the
cannon's mouth ; and among the
Jewish legends I read that when
David entered the cave of Adul-
1am, a spider quickly wove a
web across its entrance, that Saul
passed it by, convinced that the
fleeing David could not have en-
tered it for refuge.
We have in the illustration the
webs of the common spiders
with some poor victims of their
snares vainly endeavoring to ex-
tricate themselves. We would
that its lid when raised will fall
back to its place. From this door
he "merges at night to search for
his piey. The lid closes after
him. Having secured his food,
he lifts his portal with his strong
feet, and passing in, the door clos-
ing after him, he enjoys his meal
in security.
Another interesting species is
the Water Spider, " Ar^/zronefa
Aqualica." Ho lives in the water,
and yet is an air-breathing insect.
Some amphibious animals, like
the porpoise and seal, though
they can remain under water for
a good while, yet are forced to
the surface every few minutes ;
but this little fellow can live for
weeks beneath the water. The
explanation is curious. He takes
the air down with him. First, ho
builds a little gossamer home
down at the bottom of the pond
KR." f.7
between some water-plants • ho
coats it with glue to make it
water-tight, leaving an apertnre
at the bottom for a door. It is as
yet filled with water. Ho now
makes a little bag of his web,
goes to the surface, lills it with
air, and going down eiiiptii's it in-
to his house ; it bubbles up to the
roof and stays then', di-pliiyiiig
the water. Again and uiiiiin ho
does this, until ho liii.s an air-
castle in which ho ciin breathe
and rear his family, the open
door beneath keeping tho air
pure. This home of our veritable
water nymph resembles aglobule
of quicksilver. As tho little fel-
low gets his food from insects
that live on or in the water, he is
thus wonderfully provided.
Another species has alvviiys ex-
cited our admiration — tho Rait
Spider, " Dnlitmeiti'S /iinhrin/iis."
This spider subsists upon the in-
sects that skiiu upon the surface
of ponds and (dronins; and while
his feet are so conslructed that
ho can run very swiftly for a
short distance upon the water, he
cannot entirely live upon it, so ho
constructs a raft of leaves, lashing
them together with tho silken
cords that his spinneret affords,
I and pushing out from shore, is
drifted by the winds or currents
to where his prey is disporting it-
self. The dead leaves conceal
\ the spider, tho insects imairining
no danger, when suddenly tho
fierce and hungry littliy fellow
loaves his raft and gives chase ;
returning with his prey, ho
leisurely devours it. Oh, how
wonderful is all this ! It seems
raoro like reason than instinct. It
is as if, seeing that leaves fallen
from tho bushes and trees and
ffoated out by the wind and cur-
rents do not frighten the insects
that sport upon tho water, he
j uses one, as the sportsmen do our
sink-boats when wo would ap-
proach a flock of ducks. But wo
must not fail to notice how the
Creator makes every faculty and
function of his creatures in har-
monious adaptation to the end of
their being. Unlike tho web-
weaviug spider.his feet are formed
so that ho can run swiftly upon
the surface of the water, and his
eyes are so constructed that ho
can discern his prey at long dis-
tances, both of which aro neces-
sary that he may bo able to pro-
vide for his sustenance.
There is another lesson. All
these creatures use their know-
ledge, skill, and functions in do-
ing just that, andthatonly, which
their Creator intended them to do.
I wonder if we are always found
using our faculties and powers
just in those directions in which
they were wisely intended to be
employed ? — Il/uslrated Christian
Weekly.
As THE night follows tho day,
so surely and naturally does an
irreligious and a corrupt man-
hood or womanhood follow ai'
irreverent childhood. . - -.- n,.,
JBn..
-©e«^
AM
e»
68
HOW
THE OOSPRL
TO ONO.
Tho former character of the
inhabitants ot tho Fiji iHlaiuls
is too well known to need any
extended description. Canni-
Wism was iw part of their re-
ligion, and to one of their gods
REPRINTED
CAME
CANXIBAL F0KK8.
every basket of roots offered
was accompanied by a human
body. The chiefs sometimes
killed their inferior wives to
supply this horrible demand.
On Ono, one of the smaller
islands of this group, it is par-
ticularly interesting to nolo the
first beginnings of the true re-
ligion. This island is 150 miles
from that of Lakemba, to which it
is tributary. In 1835 it was visited
by an epidemic, which so dimin-
ished their numbers as greatly to
alarm the people. They made
large offerings of food and pro-
perty to their gods, and practised
their religious rites with the
greatest zeal, but all their efforts
to stay the ravages of disease were
unavailing. Just at this time ono
of the chiefs, Wai, went to Lok-
emba to carry the customary
tribute, and wnile there met a
chief who had visited some of the
Friendly Islands and had become
a Christian. From this man VTai
heard of the true God, though
little more than that Jehovah was
the only God, and that all ought
to worship him,
Perceiving that there was no
deliverance through their gods
from the pestilence, tho Ono chief
and his companions resolved to
forsake them and pray to the
Being of whom they had recently
heard, and a few others joinod
them. The late visitors, wnilo at
Lakemba, had heard something
ofthe Sabbath, and so dotermined
that they would sot apart ono day
in seven for their worship. They
accordingly prepared their food
oil tho day previous, dressed in
their best, and anointed them-
selves more profusely with oil.
But when assembled they were
at a loss how to proceed. They
had always been accustomed to
invoke their deities through the
medium of a priest. In this dil-
emma they had no other resource
STORIES. FROM
He came, and was induced to aid
them, beginning his prayer some-
what after this style : " Lord Je-
hovah, hero are thy people ; they
worship thee. I turn my back
npion thoo for the present, and am
on another tack, worshipping
another god. But do thou bless
these thy people ; keep them from
harm and do them good." Such
was tho first act of worship ren-
dered to the Almighty on the far-
ofl iJand of Ono.
In 1836 a canoe, having on
board a number of Christians
bound for the island of Tonga,
missed her course, and drifted
away to an island about fifty
miles from Ono. Hero they heard
of the longing for light and help
at the latter place, and a young
man, baptized Josiah, who had
conducted religious services
during the voyage, hastened
thither.
Great was the joy of tho little
company at Ono on the arrival
of a teacher. The old priest was
at once dismissed, and daily
Josiah led their devotions, in-
structing them more fully on the
Sabbath, while some learned to
pray for themselves.
By this time their number had
increased to forty, and they
set about building a chapel which
should hold a hundred people.
By 1839 three other teachers
had boon sent them, and the num-
ber of converts had increased to a
hundred and sixty-eight men and
a hundred and sixty women. All
wori> most anxious for instruction,
and greatly desirous that a mis-
sionary should visit them and
administer sacraments and marry
them with religious rites. •
Among the directions received
by tho Wosleyan missionaries in
referoncc to polygamy was that it
must not be countenanced. No
THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
to go, after due training, to preach
tho gospel in other parts of Fiji.
Two hundred and twenty-three
persons wore baptized and sixty-
six couples married.
Among tho candidates for ba|>-
tisin was a young woman named
Tovo, of the highest rank, who
had been in infancy betrothed to
the old king of Lakemba. She
had now learned to read well —
wa:4 most active in teaching, in
visiting tho sick, and in other
good works.
The missionary could not bap-
tize her unless she refused to be
one of the thirty wives of Tui
Nayan. On her part she declared
her firm resolve to die rather than
fulfil her heathen betrothal. In
this decision, the chief, her father,
and all the Christians sustained
her, and were ready to sulfor any-
thing rather than give her up.
With this understanding she was
baptized — taking the name ol
Jemima.
Upon the return of the mission-
ary, Mr. Calvert, to Lakemba, he
informed the king that Tovo could
not now become one of his many
wives, as she had been baptized.
Kncouraged, however, by his
chiefs and the heathen party at
Ono, ho set about manning a fleet
of canoes with fighting men to go
and demand her. Hearing of
this, Mr. Calvert went to expos-
tulate with him, but the king re-
plied that he was going to collect
tribute — pearl shells, etc,
"Then why take warriors in-
stead of sailors?"
" Oh, the warriors would make
very good sailors."
" Ah," replied Mr. Calvert, " so
say your lips — I know not what
is in your heart. I love you,
therefore I warn you. God's
people are as the apple of his eye.
On the sea and on all the islands
FIJI CLUim, SPEAKS, AND PlLIjOWS.
man or woman living in this state
should be admitted to church
membership or even be a candi-
date.
In the latter part of this year a
missionary of Lakemba had
an opportunity of visiting
Ono, and found most wonderful
and cheering progress; the people
leading blameless lives, the Sab-
bath observed, schools well at-
tended, and several young men
than to send for a heathen priest_ ' offering themselves as teachers.
between Lakemba and Ono the
Lord Jehovah reigns supreme.
Take care what you do."
For a time the voyage was
quite prosperous. They stopped
sending on in advance leveral *
canoes of deiporadoea to do tho
king'i bidding incaseof reiintance,
which, with about a hundred
souls, were never more heard
of.
At length, a favorable breeze
springing up,the ex pedition moved
on; but ere long the wind shifted,
and though they came withinsight
of Ono they could not reach her.
Their endeavors were continually
bafllod. ^)oon all chance of mak-
ing the island was gone. The
canoes pitched and labored ter-
ribly in tho violence of the waves.
Thus thoy drifted about in great
fear, well knowing that if they
escaped the angry billows, they
might be cast upon some shore
whore a miseranle fate would
await them.
As night came on the king gave
up all hope. He thought of tho
warning words of the missionary
and made up his mind to die ; call-
ing upon his gods, and promising
great offerings if he should return
home iu safety. But thoy
weathered the gale, and the dawn
ofthe morning found one of the
other canoes quite near. Great
was the delight of the crews at
mooting, and, the wind being now
favorable for their homeward
course, they set sail for Lakemba.
On arrival, the king begged
that Mr. Calvert's warning words
might never follow him again.
He was henceforth very kind to
him, thus acknowledging that ho
regarded hisdoliyerauceas a favor
of tho missionary's God. Ho oven
consented to give up the object of
hisdesire aud accept a gilt instead.
Accordingly suitable articles werti
sent him irom Ono, but after hav-
ing received them, the king re-
turned an equivocal answer. The
missionary then sent him fresh
gifts, but like a king of old his
heart was hardened. Evil coun-
sels prevailed, and he intimated
that Jemima must be brought.
Nothing now remained for the
poor girl but compliance or death.
But her people refused to bring
her to Lakemba. Then a chief
was despatched for her, but such
was the firmness of her Christian
friends that he had to return with-
out her ; and tho king, after his
narrow escape, feared to imperil
his life again upon the deep on
such an errand.
Though there had been no
missionary settled among them,
by 1848, tnirteen years from tho
introduction of Christianity into
Ono, there were among the con-
verts nearly fifty whose faith and
ardentzeal fitted them to carry on
the work at homo, and to go hrtU
to plant the gospel on disliiijt
shores. By the latest accounts wu
hear thatnolofsthan OOOchUrolu s
at various islands, but at tho one , may be scon, in which tho truo
nearest Ono all disguise was | God is reverently and Icringly
thrown oil', and they wantonly worshipped,
destroyed food and property to Tnus truly in the Micronesinii
punish the people for becoming j groups have tlie words of Holy
Christians before their king. i Writ been verified, "Purely the
Here, to make sure of a fair , isles shall wait for me. — Iltu,.
wind, they remained some days. ! Christian Weeicif/.
s:
>i^
«Hi
9m
rnrnl *• '
anoe lovernl
)oii to do thu
jof reiJHtanco,
a hundred
laoro heard
>rablo breeze
ulitioii moved
windahifled,
uwithiiuighl
lot roach her.
■e continually
auce of mak-
I gone. Thi'
labored tur-
ofthowavo8.
•out in greal
that if thoy
i>illowR, they
some shoro
fate would
he king gavn
iwght of tho
) missionary
1 to die; call-
id promisiiiir
boold return
But thoy
nd tho dawn
1 one of the
lear. Great
the crews nt
d being now
homeward
3T Lakemba.
'"? ^>ogged
rning words
him again,
ery kmd to
^ing that hu
CO as a favor
d. lie even
ho object of
gilt instead,
rticles Wert)
after hav
king re-
er. The
him fresh
of old his
il coun-
intimatod
brought.
for the
or death.
to bring
1 a chief
but such
Christian
turn with-
after his
imperil
deep on
Ev
1
>
3d
en
to
been no
ng them,
from thu
nity into
the con-
failh and
carry on
go fortli
1 di.sliiiit
onnts Wo
chUrchcH
the trui'
lovingly
roncsinii
of Holy
reJy tho
—lUu..
«H9
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
webbed
purpose
it during (light as
|irovidod with immensr^
jiint that servo the lamn
ill sustaining
il 1)01 tho membrane ol'^tho draco
('>r flying-lizard). Thoy launch
tliomselves fearlessly from a
liraach, their feet hold flat and
toca stretched apart, and swoop
down, then rise a few foot, linnlly
alighting safely at their oxpooiod
iltistmation. Sonietinies loui' or
live are bo< n darting awuy, to-
f.'othor, looking like a lluck ot
winged frogs or toads.
In tho sea there are throo flyers
that really, from the extent of
I heir flights, dosorve tho name.
Those of our readers who Imvo
been at sea, especially in tho
South, may have soon Ihn com-
mon flyinfi-fish, with its brilliant
lilue-and-Bilver body and laco-liko,
Bheeny wings. From tho crost of
a blue wave they dart, singly or in
flocks, fluttering along, rising and
i'.tUing, turning in curves, and
rotuming to the water with r
splash— perhaps to fall a (Motim
to some watchful honito (or dol-
phin) that has been closely follow-
ing them beneath tho wator.
These privatoors of the soas aro
their greatest enemies, as thoy
rise in the air following thorn un-
der water, and emerging ju.st in
time to catch the luakles»i llyors
IIS they descend. The dolphins
will take leaps of twenty or thirty
foot in following tho poor flying-
lish, which, notwithstanding their
loni? wings and wonderful i)owors,
often fall victims to thoir tireless
pursuers. They frequently fly
aboard vessels at night, perhaps
iiltracted by the lights, or, it may
lio, caught up by tho wind from
I lie crost of some curling wave,
and carried high in air against the
sails.
Tho gurnard, though it has also
long, wing-like fins, presents
otherwise a totally different ap-
pearance. Its head is inclosed in
iv bony armor, from which project
two sharp spines. Some of these
lish are of a rich pink color, while
others »ro mottled with rod, yel-
low, and blue, and as they fly
iilong over the water, and the
Kunlight falls upon their glittering
Noales, they seem to glow with a
(Tolden lustre. With such hard
Ill-ads, it will not be surprising
information that they aro dis-
au'reeable fellows to come in con-
tact with ; at least so thought a
.'^ailor who was standing at dusk
upon the quarter-deck of aressi 1,
iioar one of the West India islands.
Suddenly, ho found himself lying
upon his back, knocked over by
il monster gnnard that, with a
score of others, had darted from
the water, this one striking the
man fairly in the forehead. The
frunards are also chased by the
flolphins, and they are frequently
H^nx to rise in schools, to escape
Irom the larger fish, while hover-
ing above them are watchful gulls
nud man-of-war birds, ready to
i>teal them from the jaws of their
onemiesof tho sea.
In company with these flying-
m^^
flah may often be aoen curiona I blaspheming His holy name?"
white bodies, with long arms and i " No, I did not."
blnik oyps. Thoy are Hying- ' " Then I am afraid yoo norer
aqunls, •nombors of tho cuttle-Han pray at all ; for no man ran swear
family, and the famous bait I tho as you do, and yot koop up the
Nowmundliind cod-fishermen. On habit rfprnyingto God."
the ItankM tlioy are often soen in Aa wo now rode along he
vast nIumiIn, and during storms seemed thoughtful, "('oachman, I
tons of Ihoni are thrown upon tho wish you would pray now," I said.
shore. When darling Irom wave 1 " Why, what a time to pray, Hir,
to wave, thoy resemble silvery when a man is driving a conch."
arrows, often rising and boarding " Yot my friend, God will hear
shins in thoir headlong flight. Ido ' yuu."
valuable
69 I
and daughter hav« also been
brought to .Teana, Stop not in
your good work, sir, of speaking
to poor sinnuraoa you spoke to ma
on tnai I'oacn ; but for your re-
I nrool and instruction I might still
liiivo boon in Ih broaid road
which leads to dostruotioii.
are thoy for
bait, that
four or live
hund r oil
VOBHols at
St. I'lorro
are onifag-
ed in catch-
ing thorn
bymoansof
jigirors.*
Many of
tho squid
f a m i 1 y
leave the
water
when pur-
sued. Even
tho largest
of them,
often forty
or fifty feet
long, have
been seen
to rise ten
or fifteen
feet in tho air, and sail away as
if propelled by some mysterious
loruo, thoir hideous arms dripping
and glistening They are certain-
ly the largest and strangest of the
flyers without wings — St Niilw
THE COACHMAN'S PRAYER.
I had taken, says a gentleman,
tho box-seat of a stage-coach
Tho driver soon began to swoar
in a most fearful manner. "Coach-
man, do you ever pray ?" I quiet-
ly said.
FLYING TRBE-TOAD.
He was
some what
moved at
the appeal.
"What
shall I pray
for/ h e
askod, in a
8 u b u c'
tone.
" 1' r a y
t h e H o
words ; ' O
Lord.grant
me Thy
Holy Spirit
for Christ's
sake, a-
men.' " Ho
hesita ted,
but in a
momenthe
re pea tod
them : and
then, art my
request, a
second and a third time. When
I arrived at the end of my journey,
I parted from him, never expect-
ing to meet him again on earth.
Some months passed, and being
in another part of tho country, a
man looked intently on me, and
said, with a smile, " Don't you
know me, sir ?" I replied I did
not. " Ah, sir, I have much rea-
son to be thankful that ever I
know you."
He then recounted the parti-
culars of our first meeting, and
A FLYINO FISH ANU FLVINO SQUIDfl.
He seemed displeased, and,
whipping the horses, he sat as il
he wished not to reply to me. I
repeated the question. " If you
want to know," said he " some-
times I go to church on a Sun-
day ; I suppose I pray then, don't
ir
" Did you pray this morning
that God would keep you from
'A]linterlimsdebT(un>ln«>larg*namber
oC Sih-hookt togtlhvr In * Iwll, polnMoutwud.
added, " I bless God I ever
travelled with you. Tho prayer
you taught me on that coach-box
I believe was answered. I saw
myself a lost and ruined sinner;
but now I humbly hope, through
the blooil that cleauseth from ail
sin, and by tho power of the
Holy Spirit, I am a converted
man."
After some explanation, he
went on to say, " Both my wife
DOING Til INGM WELL.
" There aaul Harry, throwing
down the s "e-i,ruah; "there !
that'll do. My shoos don't look
vory bright, but no matter. Who
caroN '."
" Whatever is worth doing is
worth doing well," .said his father,
who had hoard the boy's careless
speech.
Harry blushed, when his father
continued :
"My boy, your shoes look
wretchedly. Pii k up tho brush
and make them shine when
you have finished come into tho
nouMo."
As soon as Harry appeared
with his well-polished shoes his
fathor said ;
"I have a little story fo tell you.
I oiieo knew a poor boy whose
mother taught him tho ))r verb
which I repeated to yoi a few
minutes ago. This boy went ou
to servico in n gontlema sfi<mily,
and he took puins to d every-
thing well, no matter h w unim-
portant it seemed. His employer
was pleased, and t"Ok him into
his shop. He did his work well
there, nnd when sent on errands
he wont quickly and was soon
back in hi.s place. So he advanced
from slop to step until he became
a dork, and (hon a partner in the
businoKs. Ho is now a rich man,
and anxious that his son, Harry,
should loam to practise the rule
which made him prosper."
" Why, papa, wore you a i>oor
boy once ?" asked Harry.
" Yes, my son — i-o poor that I
had to go out to service,and black
boots, and wait at table, and do
any menial service which was re-
quired of me. By doing little
things well, I was soon trusted
with more important ones.- Young
Reaper.
ilio loveliest, sweetest
and the
" Humility
flower
That bloomed in Eden,
first that died.
Hath rarely blossomed since on
mortal soil.
It is so frail, so delicate a thins;.
It doth not bear to look upon itself.
And he who ventures to esteem
it his
Proves by that single thought ho
hath it not."
God never promised us happi-
ness here in any perfect form ; and
they who complain most of its
absence aro commonly tLose who
have least deserved it, ar.d havo
done least to secure it foi them-
selves and to provide it for others.
— George Batchelor,
m^
I
70
RMrEUOR AND
III tho i^rny of an oitrly morn-
in^r. (luring the rpif^n of good
Juieph II. ol Auatritt, n NtrnnKc
dci'iin occnrrod in one of thi'
atriH'ti of thi< (>M i;ity of I'rcuhurg.
Wo can forgivM hiiilory iiiiich of
ilN dry dutail and Htill formality
whiMi it bIbo records for uh heart-
ti)uchiii)f ini'idontH of rt>nl lifi>liku
thislhul we have hero to tell.
Tho iit'urly Hiloiit Ntrt>ot tiankod
by its two rows of tall hoUMOM,
most of the hIindB and BhntliTN
Htill chming tho windows at tluit
early hour, was beinj? swept liy a
gaiiir III t'onvictH brought euoh
morning through the priNon
gates for tho purpose. In tho
line of prisoners was an old
man whoso hair and beard
were white as silver, and
whoso ugly uniform did not
wholly hide a certain stateli-
iiess of bearing, which ho,
however, did not allow to
hinder his work. Rut in spite
of his prepossesBing look and
manner, it was to be noticed
that only he of all his wretch-
ed companions dragged at his
leg a chain, weighted by a
heavy bullet. Yet it seemed
impossible to believe that
he excelled in crime the
repulsive - looking wretches
about him.
As the work of cleaning the
street progressed, tho tho-
roughfare, in spite ol the
early hour, came at last to
have one passer-by. A tall,
olileily man, very plainly
dressed, but wearing a kind
of uniform, advanced along
0110 of the pavements, and as
he looked at the gang of
sweepers his eye (juickly
singled out the old prisoner.
This observer seemed soon to
notice that although tho
white-haired, aged man, in
spite of having the chain and
ball to drag, managed by sheer
exertion to keep up with the
others in his work, the over-
seer was nearly always shout-
ing at him in anger and find-
iiiif fault without cause. Tho
spectator stepped into tho
road to the old man's side
" What," ho asked, " is your
orime, that you aro treated in
this way ?"
The old prisoner, at the
sound ol a voice which had
in it a tone of pity, looked up and
stood still, resting his broom up-
on the stones. It was a terrible
story of persecution and cruelty
that he had to tell. Ho belonged
to a distant province, and his po-
sition there answered to the class
ill England called " yeonion," he
having been owner of a small
property of his own. But, most
unfortunately for him, the farm
lay on the skirt of the great estate
of Count , and this nobleman
had fixed an envious eye upon its
scanty fields, as King Ahab long
before did on Naboth's vineyard.
[ Their owner, prizing the spot as
,rfS*e-
ItKIMilNTKI) STDKIKS
PRISONER.
FHOM TIIK 'NOKTIIKUN MKSSKNCKH
having been the homo of his fore- prisoner, "is my history."
fathers, relused lo sell it to thoi " lint how < an thin norientition
count. From that hour began be poNRible?" asked nil sympa-
his porsecntion. One leu.il pro- thixing listener, "why is your
cfess was served upon him after oraperor not informed of it /"
another, costs being run up at " Oh," sighed tho old man, get-
every stage. In tho end he was ting his broom again into motion,
fairly ruined, and was forced to " the emperor is far away ; and
agree to sell ihu farm to the ra-
pacions nobleman, but ho bar-
gained that ho was to remain in
the house for one year more, tine
day soon after this be was stand-
ing at his gate, deep in griet at
tho prospect. A wounded hare
unexpectedly ran bv, and, with-
out thinking what he was doing,
ho instinctively raised his sticK
besides, in aijuarrel with a no'ble-
man a poor manlike raysoll must
be in the wrong."
" I will see the governor of
your prison," was tne next re-
mark.
" Nay, nay, sir," tho prisoner
hastened to say in a trembling
voice ; " pray, do not try to inter-
fere in my favor. A person once'
DRAWING LESSON.
Oatllna DrftWlDg by HnrrlloD Weir, u a drawlns leuon tor the voans.
and put the poor creature out of
its pain. At that moment the
count's servants came up and ar-
rested him on tho spot, and al-
though li<! had not laid a finger
upon the hare he was taken to
prison. There he lay for six
months before ho was tried, and
when he was placed before the
judire the inlluenco of the wicked
count secured his being sentenced
to two years' imprisonment. In
the meantime his wife and chil-
dren wore turned out of the
house and plunged into utter
poverty.
" That, sir," concluded the aged
I did sc, and, as the result, I sufTor-
ed fifty lashes, and have to drag
this heavy chain. Do not speak
for me, or I shall suffer for it."
Another voice now broke in,
speaking in loud, harsh tones.
"There you are again, you lazy
fellow, chattering away your time
instead of working. Have you
tbund another soft-hearted fool to
listen to your whining ? Do you
wish another fifty lashes, and a
chain and bullet for your other
leg?"
The brutal speaker was the
overseer, and ho raised his stick
to strike the old man. But the
SH»
?
gentlnman parried the blow with «•
his walking nane, sending the
truncheon iiying.
"tiiirah!" oxolaiined the fari-
ous overseer, " I will arrest you
for daring to interfere with an of-
ficial. You are n prisoner, sirrah !"
Leisurely tho stranger unbnt-
toned his surtout, discloaing to
low a glittering star upon his
breast. It was the Emperor
.I'lseph himself. He was accus-
tomed, when travelling, to walk
out alone, early and late, seeing
things with hi* own eyes.
" Mercy ! mercy !" cried the
terror-stricken overseer, faliing
upon his kneei.
" Away !" replied the empe-
ror. " Lead me thii moment
to the governor "
The governor sank into a
panic atill worse than that of
the overseer on hearing that
the emperor had entered the
gaol. He, however, stammer-
ed out that the blame rested
with the judge, who was a
friend of the count.
" O great God above, what
villainy !" exclaimed the
emperor. " But woe be to
him who now injures a hair
of that old man."
Hurrying back to his castle,
the emperor ordered the
judge to ho summoned before
nim. The result was that the
judge was put into prison,
where he first of all received
fifty lashes, answering to
those he bad, by his unjust
sentence, inflicted on the old
man; next, the chain and
cannon-ball were transferred
from the innocent prisoner's
leg to his own, after which
he was made to clean the
streets of Presburg like other
convicts. And among his
companions in this task ho
soon found out tho ex-gover-
nor of the prison and the ex-
overseer ; the latter of whom
now found the stick he had
so mercilessly ill-used often
coming down upon his own
back.
Nor did the good emperor
stop here in doing justice ; he
sent for the liberated old man,
and thus addressed him :
" I will make you the gov-
ernor of the gaol, believing
that you, who have sufTered
the barbarous cruelties ot
persecution, will show humanity
to the prisoners under you.
Farewell 1 Collect your family
around you, and may God bless
you !"
Before tho amazed old man
could thank the just, God-fearing
emperor, the door of the apart-
ment had closed upon him. — Day
of Rest.
^ $oblouethacheer-f
^ ful giuer. J
2 Cor. 9 : '
St
r*
,. i!
FRANK'S SKCURITY.
" llov Wanted." That wa«
wlmt wni written on a little dip
ol papor and pMteil np in the
wIikIuw of Mr. Robinion'a gro-
I ury •lid (Iryr-goodi itore.
The liitie tign hang there un-
iliaturbud Tor several dayi; not
liouiiuie there were no applicants
lor Ihu position, for half the boys
in the place were anxious to gut
it, but because Mr. Robinson wa»
Nuch u hard man to suit.
He required the most nnexcep-
tiunable rel'erencos, as well as
ample security for the boy's
hont-sty, and so, though a great
many hoys went in his store to
inquiit' about the situation,
none of them wore able to
iintisl'y ail the requirements.
Frank Birch saw the
little slip of paper one
blight Saturday morning
when he bad come into
town to do some errands for
his mother, and his heart
Kave a great bound of de-
light when he saw the
words on it. Perhaps he
could get the place, nnd
what a grand thing that
would oe ! Everybody
know that a boy was very
fortunate who got a position
in Mr. Uobiitson's store, for
iilthouffh thoro was plenty
of hard work, yet the wages
wero very good and Mr.
Robinson was not a hard
master.
Frank had been wanting
to earn some money so
much. If he could onlv get
this place, what a help it
would be to his mother.
He felt quite sure that she
would let him give up
Hchool, for he could study
in the evenings after his
day's work was done, and
then she need not work so
hard day after day if he
could earn some money.
" Well, my boy, what can
I do for you ?" asked Mr.
Robinson, laying his paper
down on his Knee and look-
ing over his spectacles at
Frank as he entered the
store.
" I saw in the window
that you wanted a boy, and
please sir, wouldn't I do?"
" I want an honest boy,
one that can be trusted to
do what he is told, whether anv
one is watching him or not, and,
that will be as faithful to my in-
terests as he would be to his own.
Are you that sort of ahoy ?" asked
Mr. Robinson.
" I hope I am," answered Frank
modestly,
" Well, I hope you are too, for
then we shall suit each other very
well," answered Mr. Robinson.
Frank's heart was very light, for
now he felt sure of a trial at least;
but Mr. Robinson's ^ext words
dispelled his hopes.
''Now, what references and se-
curity can you give me ?"
"Security?" said Frank, not
KKI'KINTKI) STOKIKS, KKO.M TIIK
what Mr
NOUTIIKKN MESSKNdKR.
71
quite understanding
Itobiniuii meant.
" Yts ; what friend hnve you
who will place in my hands a cer-
tain sum of money as security for
your honesty. ! will return it at
the end of a year.for by that time I
shall know pretty well whether
you are honest or not."
Frank's (ace clouded over
with disappointment. " I am
afraid I couldn't give any secu-
rity," he said sadly. " How much
would you want, sir?"
Mr. Kobinson named the sum.
Frank shook his head.
" Couldn't you take me without
it, sir," h« aakad.
a I'nvor from. Ho the little
sign atill hung in the win-
dow, and people noticed it
and wondered how it wn* that
Mr. Kobinson couldn't get a boy
when boys wanting work were
HO plenty and good places so few.
Mr. Robinson was in no hurry,
however, " The right boy will
come along after n while," ho
would say to himself cheerfully
as he helped the clerk take down
the shutters and open the store
every morning.
Tht next Friday aflernooa
Frank was busily disentangling
his fishing-lines and preparing for
a grand fishing excursion on the
"YOU sha'n't lay a finoer on these cherries."
" No," answered Mr. Robinson
decidedly, taking up his paper
again. " I used to lose a good
deal by taking boys just on refer-
ences. People will often give a
boy a good reference aud say he
is honest when they know very
little about his character; but
when they are willing to go se-
curity for him, then I feel pretty
sure that the boy is honest and
that I am c 'fe in taking him."
Frank wtot slowly out of the
store. He ku^" that there was
no hope of gettir.f the position
now, for his mother had no
money, and he had no friends
that he could venture to ask such
then he answered chMrfully.
" All right, mother, I suppose
I'll have to pick them, as the old
lady is in such a bad way about
them. I may as well gut about
it at onoe or I wont bu through
before dark ;" and he began to put
away his tishing-lines.
"That's a good boy," said his
mother approvingly, u Prank
started off whistling as merrily as
if he had not just given up a long
anticipated pleasure. The poor
old woman's joy and gratitude
when she found that her cherries
would go to market the next day
nearly repaid him for his self-
denial. The tree was a large one,
and though ho worked as
fast as he could, he did not
have time tn Rtrip it of its
nontents belore dark He
finished picking the cher-
ries early the next morning,
and was soon on his way to
town with the fruit, which
vas put in panniers or large
oaskets.
It WHS a beautiful morn-
ing, and Frank could not
help thinking of his intend-
ed excursion. He wonder-
ed how far the boys had
gone on their way, and
what sport they would
have.
He did not regret his
kind act, however, but walk-
ed along whiHtling cheerily,
and now and then giving
Dick, the little donkey that
a kind-hearted neighbor had
loaned for the day, an en-
couraging pat or word.
" Halloa, Frank! Where
are you bound for now?"
asked a voice, and Frank,
looking around for the
speaker, saw a boy sit-
ting under the hedge ex-
amining the contents of a
bird's nest which he had
just taken from the tree be-
side him.
" I'm going in to town,"
answered Frank, recogniz-
ing the boy as Bob Morris,
one of the worst boys in the
neighborhood, a boy whom
the good shunned and even
the ill-disposed feared.
"What have you got in
those baskets ?" asked Bob,
tossing the bird's nest to
one side and walking to-
wards Frank. " Oh,
you ve
next day, when his mother en- 1 got cherries," he exclaimed, as he
tered the room. I caught a glimpse of the fruit
" Frank," she said, "would you showing through the cover of the
mind giving up your excursion
to-morrow ?"
"Oh, I couldn't !" exclaimed
Frank. " Why mother, what is
there for me to do ?"
"Old Mrs. Wilson's grandson
is sick, and he promised to gather
her cherries this afternoon for her
and take them to market to-mor-
low. They are to ripe to put off
picking them, and she is in great
trouble about them. I told her I
thought you would be willing to
do it for her."
Frank tieiiitated for a moment ;
basket.
" I'm glad you came along this
way, for I'm awfixlly dry, and
some of those cherries will just fix
me up," and he extended his hand
towatds the basket.
" You can't have any of those ;
they are not mine to give you,"
said Frank firmly, standing in
front of his charge.
" Well, I don't care whetb-r
they're yours or not," answer^a
Bob roughly. " I'm going to
have some of them any way, so
just stand aside."
ii4^
AN^
-«Hi
72
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NOKTHERN MESSENGER."
iSOMKTHINa ABOUT DUCKS.
Duck lifuisnot one long dreim
of bliss, a time to waddle, quack
and pipe ; no,indoed,8orrowE enter
into their lowly nests among
reeds and rushes as keenly as in-
to more airy, elevated homes
among our feathered friends,
The red-tailed hawk stops not to
admire the varied tints or grace-
ful T?ovementof the Pintail duck,
neither is it of any moment in
his eyes that Anas Acuta indicates
a certain aristocracy of family,
by carrying as
erectly as pos-
sible the sharp-
ie -defined and
delicately-
painted tail.
All these beau-
ties are as no-
thing : hunger
to be appeased
i s the great
question, and
to this the
strong- winged
lirigand of the
skier, addresses
himself with
undisguised in-
tent. The dunk-
lings by the
brook-side, ten-
derly s h e 1-
tered in their
sedge-crowned
home, must
breast the tide
oflifeunhelped
by mother-
love, must
ceaselessly
q'.iack on, un-
comforted h y
motherly re-
sponses.
The world is
full of duck
cousins ; the
family is a
well - known
a n d favorite
one, and stories
of their beauty
and faithful-
ness are not
wanting.
In a greiit
city of the Ce-
lestial Empire
once dwelt a
happy dunk
I'amiiy. () \ e
night pater fa-
ni i I i a s was
stolen, and in
her lonely
home Madam Dui'k refused nil
comfort ; an obsequious raller,
ollering tender attention;!, was in-
dignantly repulsed ; most unex-
liectedly the lost one returned,
and was received by his grieving
mate with every demonstration
ol delight. It would seem ns if
tlie little du( k-mother gave in-
formation concerning the intrud-
ing suitor, for her partner flew
ui>on him with rage, tore out his
, eyes, and so wouirded him that
he soon lay dead.
These were Mandarin ducks, I "summer-duck" for its chiefest This extensive family of water-
so called on account ot their beau- ! adornment, and "among other i birds is represented in our coun-
ty and remarkable conjugal tideli- gaudy feathers wi.h which our try by more than thirty species,
ty. They are often carried in ^ Western tribes Tnament the cal- To catch them is often a diffi-
■vedding processions in China. 1 umet, or pipe of peace, the skin , cult matter ; but in marshes where
'T'he Chinese are fond of laud- ' of the head and nock of this beau- [ they congregate at low water, a
ingL'ieof this family, now ex-!til'ul bird is often used to cover tight hogshead is sunk, tufts of
tinct — having passed awny, it is ^ the stem ;" and so gentle is the long, coarse grass, reeds, and
said, in the halcyon days ol Con- pretty creature in its woodland sedge are arranged with care
LI
fucins; and wonderfully en-
dowed the creature must have
been, for the legend tells us that
"it would not peck or injure living
insects, nor tread on growing
herbs ; that it had the throat of a
AN EPICURE HUNOUy FOR DUCK
swallow, the bill of a fowl, the
neck of a snake, the tail of a lish,
the forehead of a crane, the crovvn
of a Mandarin duck, the stripes
of a dragon, and the vaulted biii;K
of a tortoise; that the feathers had
five colors, named for the live
cardinal virtues : that it was five
cubits high, hnving the tail gra-
duated like Pandean pipes ; and
that its song had live modula-
tions."
Among Indians, royalty itself
disdains not the plumage of the
haunts that a few affectionate ' over the upper edge so as to ap-
words crv'i effectually tame it. pear like a natural growth ; then
Another family of cousins, the | a sportsman takes refuge within
Tadorna Vuljmnser of the Orkney the hug« barrel, and has a rare
Islands, have fashions of their j chance for collecting the unsus-
own touching the courtesies of pecting creatures In China the
sportsman cov-
ers his head
with a sort of
gr a 8 s-m a d e
hood, and from
" eye-holes " is
able to detect
and, almost at
leisure, to en-
trap many of
tiiese simple-
hearted birds.
Decoy ^ucke,
made of wood
and painted
a r 3 success-
fully used ill
our own coun-
try. Lead is
nailed to ■■ho
bottom, so that
they will float
easily; these
gliding over
the water, at-
tract the living
sailers, who,
im a gi n i n g
Ih (! m 8 e 1 V e s
surrounded by
attentive rela-
tives, alight,
and at once be-
come a prey to
cruel strategy !
The " Pi n-
tail duck" of
our picture, is
noted for its
delicate, slen-
der neck, is of
a social turn,
and has richly
variegr. ted
plumage ; it is
a bird of rapid
flight, and its
tones are softer
and sweeter
than some
others of its
kin. They
are fond o f
beech-nuts, but
in the spring
society. They, it seems, wisn
never to be "at home" to disagree-
able guests, and if by chance steps
are heard near its nest where the
baby-ducks lie sleeping. Madam
makes pretence of sufl'ering from
a broken wing, waddling off with
most distressing indic-.'ieir; of
pain, trailing t sup'.., -fl ".-
Jured member on th.; ^ o-.iiul.
After the intruder has iol'.owed
for some time, she as suddenly
takes to flight, leaving the outwit-
ted follower gaping with wonder.
gladly feast upon tadpoles, while
lor autumn and winter fare they
seek mice and insects. — Illus.
Chris. Week/ 1/.
•' After the ■ toil and trouble,
cometh the joy and rest ;
After the ' weary conflict,' peace
on the Saviour's breast;
After the ' blightand sorrow,' the
glory of life and love ;
After the ' perilous journey,' the
Father's hoate above,"
iHH^
^<4a)
m^
* LINES ON GIVING.
The sun gives ever ; so tho earth —
What it can give, so much 'tis
worth ;
The ocean gives in inony ways —
Gives paths, gives iishes, rivers,
bays :
So, too, the air, it gives us breath —
Whjn it stops giving, comes in
death.
Give, give, bo always giving;
Who gives not, is not living.
The more you give.
The more you live.
God's love hath in us wealth up-
heaped ;
Only by giving is it reaped.
The body withers, and the mind.
It' pent in by a selfish rind.
Give strength, give thought, give
deed, give pelf.
Give love, give tears, and give
thyself.
Give, give, be always giving,
Who giveu not is not living.
The more we live,
The more wo give.
Anon.
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE.
Who has not road " Uncle
Tom's "Cabin," and who could
listen with at tears to the tale of
tho sufferings of the poor negro
slaves in the plantations of the
south. One hundred years ago
the slave trade was carried on
not only bv the United States,
but by England and many of the
other nations of Europe. William
Wilberforco was born at Hull,
Kiigland in 1759 and at a very
early age became interested in the
subject of slavery. While still
atschof! he wrote a letter to a
newtpape. published in York
stronglv co.-'iemning " the odious
traffic in human ilesh." At the
age 01 twenty-ono ho entered par-
a. jnt and about seven years
afterward a society was formed in
Loiuion composed almost entirely
of Quakers the object of which
was to prevent iny slaves being
brought from Africa and sold in
the British colonies. The suffer-
ings of the negroes in the ships
while crossing the Atlantic wore
liorrible. They wore crowded
down ill the dark hold of tht; ves-
M'l and did not receive half the
I'are that would have been given
to cattle. A bill was passed
regulating the number that each
KJiip should carry, but little atten-
tion wu.s paid to it. Then a bill
was passed forbidding any British
subject to engage in the trade,
but it was still curried on under
lover of the Spanish or Portuguese
flag, The slaves wen- treated
more cruelly than ever Often
when a slave ship w.is being pur-
sued, and in danger of being cap-
tured, tho whole cargo of slaves
would bo thrown into tho sea.
In 1811 a law was passed by which
any person found engaged in tho
slavo trado would be imprisoned
from throo to five years with
h;ird labor, or transported for
foarteoii years. Thirteen years
WH^
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER.
afterward a bill was passed de-
claring the slave trade to be
piracy and as such punisl^able by
death, but in 1837 this was altered
and the penalty became transpor-
tation for life.
But there was still more work
to be done. Although no one
was allowed to bring any more
slaves from Africa, there were a
vast number of them already in
the colonies, And the next step
was to set these free. About 1825
Mr. Wilberforce through failing
health had to retire from Parlia-
ment, but the work still went on.
In 1833 a bill was passed making
the slaves free, but providing that
they should be apprenticed for
twelve years to their former
masiors, and out of their earnings
to pa; a sum for their release.
But this was not approved and
it was at last determined that
they should be apprenticed for
only six years, and that the Gov-
ernment should pay to the slave
owners in return for the loss they
sustained tho sum of X20,000,000.
bad marks, and tho keeping in,
and the teacher's reproof," said
tho mother very sorrowfully.
" Milly, why are you so often
troublesome at school , you are a
good girl at home."
" I hate rules," said Milly. open-
ing her blue eyes v y wide.
" So do the Co.ivicts in the great
stone prison, where papa goes on
Sundays to teach the Bible, Milly.
One of them said last Sunday
afternoon, that if the law hadn't
been so strict he wouldn't have
broken it. It is hating rules
which has brought m3ftt of those
poor men to their gloomy cells."
Milly looked serious. She had
never thought of comparing her-
self with the prisoners.
" Unless we keep rules, dear,
and love to keep them, we are
always unhappy. Only those
people who learn to mind, ever
become fit to command. By-and-
by, if you overcome this opposi-
tion to law, you will find that the
law and you are so friendly, that
you will never think about it at
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE
The health of Mr. Wilberforce
failed fast, and on the 29th of
.Tuly 1833, just three days alter
the Emancipation Bill was passed
he died, and was buried in West-
minster Abbey.
MILLY'S HARD PLACE.
" Mamma," said Milly, coming
in from school with a flushed face,
and eyes which bore the traces of
tears, " I wish you'd let mo leave
Miss Mathew's school. I'vo been
kept in again, and my diary is
disgraceful. Miss Susie Mathews
says she's ashamed of me."
Mamma put down the work she
was busy with and gathered her
little lirl into her lap.
" What have you done that is
naughty to-day ?" she said tender-
ly-
" O," said Milly sobbing, " I
whispered in my g'ography class,
and I wrote Mary Haywood a
note, and when I missed my gram-
mar lesson I pouted, and said I
didn't care."
"So my little girl deserved the
all. In the meantime you have
some hard places before you, and
the best way is to try to overcome
their difficulties."
" Will you help me, mamma ? "
" Surely I will, my child ; but
there is One stronger than I. and
you must seek his aid."
Together the mother and child
knelt in the twilight, praying to
Jesus for pardon and peace. Milly
rose from her knees, feeling that
though she had done wrong, the
Lord would help her to do better.
— Christian Inlelligemef.
DOGS
IN GERMAN
MENTS.
KEGI-
Dogs are tolerated in German
regiments, though they are usual-
ly the properly of officers, who
are naturally responsible for their
good behavior. At least one Ger-
man regiment, moreover, belong-
ing to tho First or East Prussian
Army Corps, used during tne
war of 1870-71, to be preceded,
whenever the band accompanied
it, by a dog of solemn and shaggy
appearance, who dragged the big
drum after him. This strange
animal, however, had not been
recruited in the ordinary manner;
and at that time he already seemed
to have seen enough service to
entitle him to honorable retire-
ment. He had begun his military
career in the service of Austria,
where tho big drum was in his
time harnessed to a moderately-
sized dog in every military band ;
and ho was captured by tho East
frussian regiment at the battle of
Sadowa. Perhaps because dogs
form no recognized part of the
Prussian military forces he had
never been exchanged , though it
is difficult to understand on what
principle he could have been
compelled, after the cessation of
hostilities, to remain in tho ranks
of the enemy. This dog in any
case, marched with the troops of
General Nanteuffel from the east
of Prussia to the west coast of
France ; and if he is now dead he
basin all probability had a monu-
ment erected to his memory. — St.
James Gazette
AURORA BOREALIS
Gassendi, a French philosopher,
contemporary of Lord Bacon, first
arave the classical name of Aurora
Borealis Others have called it
Aurora Polaris, for there is also an
Aurora Australis, similar phenom-
ena being witnessed in the Ant-
arctic regions The Portuguese
navigator, D'Ulloa, is the first who
describes the Southern Lights,
about 1743 ; and Captain Cook also
beheld them in 1777. Sir James
Ross, in his famous Antarct''; ex-
ploring expedition, vv'itnessed
magnificent displays.
Many of the accounts in old
chronicles and histories, describ-
ing armies in the sky meeting and
contending w'th fiery spears and
datts, sometimes attended with
waves of blood, can only refer to
unusual displavs of th.) Aurora
Borealis. Such references are
frequent in the meditcval chroni-
cles. But before those days, Aris-
totle, Pliny, and other classical
writers, alluded to the same mys-
terious lights. They were usual-
ly regarded as portents of evil
foreboding. But the Shetland
people called them "The Merry
Dancers. ' The North American
Indians thought they were tho
spirits of their departed people
roaming throngh the spirit-world.
— Neiv York Observer.
•^■-
Ali. Which Gou Asks of boys
and girls i.s that they be boy and
sjirl Christians, and that is all
which we have any right to ask,
and it also is something which we
have a right to expect and labor
for, — Ciiiisireiiiilionalist.
We Havk Nkver Known Init
one ibing that has been p>tential
enough to bring all the railways
01 the country to terms -in fact
to an unconditional surrender.
This thinn' is— tobacco smoke. —
Mellnulist PnilestanI,
t
74
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER
THE CHIPMGNK.'
Whf^u Noll came homo irom
school one day, she found her fa-
vorite kitten with a little chip-
monk in her mouth. It was the
chipmonk wh^ih had lived in the
hollow tree in the garden. He
had paid flying visits to the piaz-
za nil summer, and was almost as
well known as the kitten herself.
It was plain that puss had mis-
taken him for a mouse. Nell
gave chase across the garden, in
among the tangle of rose-bushesj »*'»^™ f°'" y°^'i The boy shook
where the kitten fled with her
booty. She found it hard to fol-
low, though she could see the
bright eyes of the chipmonk. They
were full of pain and pleading, as
if he begged her to take his side.
At last Puss was caught and
shaken till she dropped the chip-
monk. He could only limp away
and hide himself.
Nell hoped his friends would
take care of him. But at night
the poor, hurt fellow hobbled to-
ward th« piazza, and seemed to
want comfort. He was too feeble
to keep himself from the cat's
paw, if she had come near.
Nell made a little house for him
in the garden ot a small box. She
raised it upon four stones at ihe
four coriiiTs, so as to give him air.
She slipped water and chestnuts
underneath for his supper.
A good doctor came to the house
and looked at his wounds. He
said the chipmonk could get well,
with care.
I wish I could tell you that,
thanks to Nell, he was able to
leave his hospital at last, and be
still a resident of the old hollow
tree.
But somebody, passing through
the garden after dark, overturned
the box. When Nell went to feed
her chipmonk in the morning, she
found nothing but "mpty nut-
shells, and puss wastiiiiar her face
close by,— 0«r Lifl/i' Folh-s.
shep-
FAITHFULNESS.
Gerhardt was a German
herd boy, and a noble fellow ho
was, although he was very poor.
One day he was watching his
flock, which was feeding in a val-
ley on the borders of a forest,
when a hunter came out of the
woods aiid asked : " How far is
it to the nearest village?" "Six
milo.s, sir," unswered the boy ;
" but the road is only a sheep
track, and easily missed." The
hunter looked at thi; crooked
track, and said : 'My lad, I am
very huntrry and thirsty, I hav(>
lost my companions and missed
my way. Leave your shei')) and
show me the road, and 1 will p.iy
you well," " I cannot leave my
sheep, sir," rejoineil (rerhardt;
"they will stray into the woods,
and may be eaten by wolves, or
stolen by iol)ber8 " " W(!ll, what
of thatV" (|ii(>ried the hunter,
" they are not your sheep. The
loss of one or two wouldn't be
much to your master, and I'll give
you more than you have earned
II
tiift>^-
in a whole year." " I cannot go,
sir," rejoined GerharUi very firm-
ly ; "my master fays me for my
time, and he trusts mo with his
sheep ; if I were to sell my time,
w'lich does not belong tome, and
the sheep should get lost, it would
be the same as if I had stolen
them." "Well," said the hunter,
" Yov will trust your sheep with
me w'lile you go to the village,
and gf t mo some food and drink,
and a guide ? I will take care of
his head. "The sheep," said
he, " do wot know your voice,
and ." He stopped speaking.
" And wh'.t ? Can't you trust me ?
Do I look like a dishonest man?"
said the hunter angrily. " Sir,"
said the boy, " you tried to make
me false to my trust, and tried to
make me break m^- vord to my
master ; how do I know that you
would keep your word ?" 'The
hunter laughed, for he felt that
A SHOCKING EEL.
" Captain John," said I, " didn't
you tell me that you sometimes
brought wild animals in your
ship from South America?"
" Oh, yes," said he, " I brought
one ol the first electric eels that
was ever carried to New York. I
got it in Para, Brazil, and I
bought it of some Indians for
twelve milreis — about six dollars
of our money. We had lots of
trouble with this fellow, for these
eels live in fresh water, and, if
we had not had plenty of rain on
thii voyage, we couldn't have
kept him alive, for the water he
was in had to be changed every
day. We kept him on deck in a
water-barrel, which lay on its side
in its chocks, with a square hole
cut through the staves on the
upper side to give the creature
light and air. When we changed
the water, a couple of sailors took
the lad had fairly answered him.
He said : " I see, my lad, that
you are a good, faithful boy. 1
will not forget you. Show me
the road, and I will try to make
it out myself"
GerhardI then offered the con-
tents of his scrip to the hungry
man, who. coarse as it was, ate it
gladly. Presently his attendants
came up ; and then Gerhardt, to
his surprise, found that the hunter
was the Grand Duke, who owned
all the country around. The duke
was so pleased witii (he boy's
honesty that he sent for him short-
ly after that, and had him educa-
ted. In after years Gerhardt be-
came a very grea* and powerful
man ; but he remainedhonest and
true to his dying day.
hold of th(> barrel and turned it
partly over, while another held a
straw broom against the hole to
keep the eel from coniiliLr out. We
woidd always know when the
water was nearly run out, lor then
the eel lay against the lower
staves, and even the wood of the
barrel would bo so charged with
electricity that the sailors conld
hardlv hold on to the ends of the
barrel. They'd let go with one
hand and take hold with the
other, and then they d let go with
that and change again. At first, I
didn't believe that the fellowsfelt
the eel's shocks in this way ; but,
when 1 took hold myself one day,
I found they weren't shamming
at all. Then we tnrni'd the- barrel
back and filled it up with Ire.sh
What a beautiful sermon is thisj water, and started the eel olf for
on the words of Christ, " Thou \ another day.
hast been failhlul over a few j "Ho got along first-rate, and
things, 1 will make thee rult^r over, kept well and hearty through the
many things ; enter thou into the whole of the voyage. AVhen we
joy of the Lord." — Advocate. 1 reached New York we anchored
at Quarantine, and the health-
officer came aboard. I knew him
very well, and I said to him:
'Doctor, I've got something aboard
that perhaps yon never saw be-
fore.' 'What's that?' said he.
'An electric eel,' said I. 'Good''
said he ; ' that is something I've
always wanted to see. I want to
know Just what kind of a shock
they can give.' ' All right,' said I ;
'you can easily find out for your-
self He is in this water-barrel
here, and the water has just been
put in fresh, so you can see him.
All you have got to do is just to
wait till he swims up near the sur-
face, and then you can scoop him
out with your hand. Youneedn't
be afraid of his biting you.' The
doctor said he was'i't afraid ol
that. Ho rolled up his sleeve,
and, as soon ns he got a chance,
he took the eel by the middle and
lifted it out of the water. It
wasn't a very largo one, only about
eighteen inches long, but pretty
stout. The moment he •ilted it
he dropped it, grabbed his right
shoulder with his left hand, and
looked aloft, 'What is the niiit-
ter?' said I. 'Why, I thought
something fell on me from the
rigging,' said u\ 1 was s^re my
arm was brc Lcn, ! never had
sxich a blow in i.iy :iU'.' 'It was
only the eel,' said I. ' Now you
know what kind of a shock he can
give.' " — From " The Mi/slrrioiis
DiirrrI," by Ptiid I'arf, in St. Niclio-
las for Aii'j:iixI.
FATHER'S KNEELINt^-
PLACE.
The I'hiidven were playinir
"Hide the haiulhercliicf." I sat
and watched them a lonar while,
and heard no unkind word, and
saw scarcely a rough movement ;
but after a while, 111 tie .Tack, whose
turn it was to hide the handker-
chief, went to the opposite end ol
the room and tried to secrete it
under the cu^shion of a big chair.
Freddy immediately walked over
to him, and said, in a low, gentle
voice, "Please, .Tack, don't hide
the handkerchief there, that is
father's kneeling place,"
" j'ather's kneeling-place I'' It
seemed like sacred ground to me
as it did to little I'reddy ; and by-
and-by, as the years roll on, ami
tills place shall see the father no
more forever, will not the memory
of lliis hallowed spot h'ave an iin
piession upon the young hearts
that lime ami change can never
elf'ace, and remi'in as one of the
most ))recious memories of tin'
old home? Oh, if there were
only a "lather's kneeling-place" in
every family' The mother kneels
in her chamber and teaches Ihe
little ones the morning and even-
ing prayer, but the lather's pre-
sence is oi'teii wanting ; business
and the cares of life engross all
his time, and though the mollier
longs for his assistance and co-
operation in the religious educa-
tion of the children, he thinks it
is a woman's work and leaves all
to her. — Exchange,
the health-
I knew him
laid to him :
ithing aboard
ever saw bu-
t?' said he.
II. 'Good''
nethinir I've
'. I want to
d of a shock
right,' said I ;
oHt for your-
water-barrol
las just been
can see him.
do is just to
near the siir-
m scoop him
You needn't
? you.' The
'I't afraid of
I his sleeve,
jot a chance,
1! middle and
water. It
e, only about
■, but pretty
t he 'illed it
ed his right
It hand, and
is the mat-
■, I thought
le from the
'vas sure my
: never had
fe.' 'It was
' Now you
.shock he ciin
; Mi/sterioKS
in St. NUIw-
UELINd-
ro playing
liicf." I silt
lonsr while,
word, and
moveiiicnt ;
iTiu'k, wluisi'
he hiindkcT-
>ositi' end ol
lo PiHTote it
I big chair.
tvalked ovor
low, gentle
, don't hide
re, that i.'*
hi
-place!" It
round to me
ily ; and by-
roll on, and
10 lather no
the memory
leave an iin
mng hearts
can never
one of the
tries of thi'
there were
ngplace" in
other kneeli-
teaches the
g and even-
atlier's pr>-
r; bu.sillc.'-'-
engrops all
the mother
we and co-
ious educa-
he thinks it
id leaves all
«*4®
FLYING WITHOUT
BY C. F. HOLDER.
As I write, there is a curious
little brown-eyed creaturodarting
about the room, now perched
upon my shoulder, anon nibbling
at my pen, balancing upon the
edge of the inkstand, or sitting
on its hind-legs upon the table,
where it sportively tosses about a
huge walnut. Now, spread out
like a parachute, it is clinging to
RKPRINTED STORI KS, FR OM
WINGS.
THE " N'OHTHKRM MESSENGER."
75
sailor's adventure
OUXAI: !),•}.
WITH
tlie window-shade, and now like
a Hash it springs into the air. com-
inir down lightly, only to dart to
some other elevation, thence to
repeat its antics again and again
As you must by this time sus-
pect, my pet is a ilying-squirrel ;
one of the familiar examples of a
large number of animals that can
move through the air without
wings. If we closely examine
this pretty little creature, we find
that between the fore and hind
leirs there is an expansion of the
skin, which, when the legs are
spread out, offers a decided resist-
ance to the air and buoys the ani-
mal up exactly as though it car-
ried a parachute. When our tiny
l>laymate is in mid-air, notice how
careful it is to hold its feet and
hands (for it certainly uses its
lore-feet as hands) out as far as
jiossible, to catch all the air it can.
If we look closely, we shall find
iitlached to each of the hands a
ilclicate bone, which, when the
^ ,..irrel is in flight, act as booms
lor the curious sail in front.
lint it is in the woods, in their
native haunts, that thes(> beauti-
liil animals make their most won-
iIitIuI leaps. From the tops of
I he tallest trees they launch them-
^'■Ivos fearlessly into the air, com-
i:iLr down with a graceful swoop
loi' a hundred feet or more; then,
liy a movement of the head,
< hanging their course to an up-
ward one, they rise ten or twelve
ii'ct, and linally alight upon the
Iri'p of their choi(!e. They im-
mi'diately scramble to the top to
airaiu soar away into the air, thus
ii.ui>lling through the woods
I I "111 tree to tree much faster than
you can follow thi.'m. IIow like
they are to birds, building nests
for their young, and moving
through the air with almost eijual
freedom !
One of the most curious of this
family is the sugar-squirrel — a
beautiful creature.with large, curl-
ing ears of a delicate ash-color
above and white beneath. Like
many squirrels, it is a nocturnal
or night animal, lying concealed
in its nest in some hollow tree
until the sun disappears,
when it comes out, and
spends the night in wonder-
ful leaps from tree to tree,
in search of food and per-
haps amusement, When
descending from a great
height, it seems as though
they must inevitably dash
headlong against the
ground, so precipitate is
their flight ; but this never
happens. That they are
able to change the direction
of their flight while in mid-
air seems a very natural
and reasonable supposition,
though only on one occasion
has this feat been observed.
The incident is related of a
squirrel, which was being
brought to England fromits
home iu New Holland. The
sailors had made quite a pet
of the little creature, which
was a sourcf of great amusement
to them on account of its aston-
ishing leaps from mast to mast
One day the squirrel climbed
clear to the top of the mainmast
of the vessel, and seemed to be
afraid to come down again, so one
of the men started after it. But
pist as he was about to grasp the
truant, it expanded its broad,
wing-like membrane, and shot off
into the air. At the same moment
the ship gave a heavy lurch to
port. It seemed to all that their
favorite must inevitably fall over
branches of trees, head down-
ward : but as evening comes on,
they sally forth, olten doing great
harm to the fruit on the neighbor-
ing plantations. In some parts of
/ava they are so numerous that
it is found necessary to protect
the fruit-trees with huge nets.
The extent of their flights through
the air is something astonishing.
They sometimes drop to the
ground and hop along with a
shulBing kind of leap, but if they
are alarmed, they spring to the
nearest tree and in a moment
reach its top by a series of
bounds. Out upon the branches
they dart, and with a rush are
off into space. Sailing t'lrough
the air like some great bird,
down they go obliquely, swift
as an arrow, a hundred and
lifty feet or more, rising again
in a graceful curve and alight- _
ing safely on a distant tree. In
these great leaps they carry
their young, which cling to
them or sometimes follow them —
in their headlong flight, utter-
ing hoarse and piercing cries.
The colugos live almost exclu
sively on fruit, preferring plan-
tains and the young and tender
leaves of the cocoa-palm, though
some vi'riters aver that they
have seen them dart into the air
and actually catch birds. The
flying-lemurs are perfectly harm-
less, and so gentle as to be easily
tamed. They have lovely dark
eves and very intelligent and
knowing laces.
In many old natural histories,
— especially those of Aldrovandus
and Gesner, — strange pictures are
shown of dragons, with terrible
heads, breath like steam, the feet
and leirs of a bird, and serpent-
like skins. In the days of chiv-
alry these dragons were very
'ommon, if we may believe the
tail's of the time, and every
knight or gentleman with any
writers of past centuries. The
dragons are small lizards that
live among the trees, and though
they have no wings, they move
about through the air in graceful
curves, with almost the freedom
of birds. When they are upon a
branch, you would hardly notice
anything peculiar about thera ;
but, let an insect pass by that
they are particularly fond ol',and,
with a rush, several of them fly
into the air. Between their legs
w
loard; but, evidently seeing its pretensions to valor, seems to have
danger, it suddenly changed its followed in the footsteps of St.
course, and with a broad and : George, according to the old ro-
graceful curve sank lightly and I mancers. But, in these days, th
safely upon the
deck.
In the forests
of the islands
constituting the
Indian Archi-
pelago is found
a curious flying
animal that
forms the con-
necting link be-
tween the lemur
and the bat. The
natives call it
the colugo, and
also the "flying-
fox," but it is
inovc^ like a Hy-
ing monkey, as
the lemurs are
cousins of Iho^i.
monkeys. Like"'
the bats, these (^
animals sleep in''
the day-timr,|
hanging from
the limbs mid
FliYlNO LIZARDS.
world has been
sowelltravelled
over that the
dragons have
been linally
sifted down to
one or two
beautiful little
creatures that
live in India
and the islands
of the Indian
Archipelago.
Save tor their
harmless aspect
they have very
much the ap-
pearance of the
dragons of the
olden time, and
we suspect they
wer the or-
iginals of Uie
ta' 3 that were
[certainly be-
lieved by the
natural- history
THE FLYINO-SQDIRUEL.
is a curious memnrane, encirc-
ling them like a parachute, banded
and crossed with gorgeous tints
of red and yellow, which glisten
in the sun like molten gold.
They seem to float in the air a
second while snapping at the ob-
ject of their pursuit ; then they
sink gracefully, alighting upon
the trees or branches. The seem-
ing wings are membranes — really
an expansion of the skin of the
flank, held in place by slender,
bony processes connected with
the false ribs, which shut up, as
it were, when the " dragon " is
resting, the wings appearing to
be folded at the sides They live
upon insects, and dart after them
from tree to tree with amazins
rapidity, their long tails lashing
the air like knives.
According to the naturalist
Brontius, the common flying-
lizard inflates a curious yellow
goitre, ormembranc>, when it dies,
thus rendering it lighter, and re-
minding us again of the birds,
with their hollow bones. Thus
assisted, they cross intervals of
space as much as seven hundred
feet in length faster than the eye
can follow them. In darting
across small streams, sometimes
they fall short and come down in
the water, when of course, they
are obliged to swim the remain-
der ot the distance. Sometimes
they are found in large streams,
so it is not improbable that they
go in swimminuf for the pleasure
of it.
Equally curious as a. flyev with-
out wings is the Rliaritjthorun-
tree-toad found in New Ilollan
It also lives in the trees, and >
enable it to move from n <,
another with safety and b;
w
««-»
!: 76
' THE GREAT K. K. R. R.
There was a wonderful stir
on tho big plav-ground of Ur.
Thwackem's school during the
noon recess. Nobody was play-
ing base-ball or foot-ball, but the
running and rushing, the whoop-
ing and general racket and riot,
were 6ora(!thin^: uncommon.
" Who ever heard such a noise !"
exclaimed Dr. Thwackem himself,
putting his head out of an uppur
window. " What in the name of
common-sense have those boys
iound to play at now ? "
Dr. Thwackem soon discovered.
It was Erasmus Jackson's new
game. Erasmus Jackson was
the pride of the whole Insti-
tute for the invention of new
games, and this was his latest
effort. Erasmus had organ-
ized tho one hundred and
twenty-three other boys into
the Great Royal Kamtsobatka
Railway. Erasmus was its
President, of course.
The play. ground of the In-
stitute happened to be a pretty
good-sized plot of unoccupied
town grou'.id adjoining the
school. It ran clear through
from street to street. Across
this from corner to corner ran
a d'jublo track marked out
with sawdust. Along it could
be seen rushing, with an ap-
palling whooping and signal-
ing, strings of boys, ten at a
time. These were the pas-
senger trains. Freight trains,
consisting of ironi hfteen to
twenty boys, alternated with
these; they moved more slow-
ly, but with a wonderful pull-
ing and letting oli of steam.
Every few minutes a loud
hurrahing and the blasts of a
certain cracked tin horn
warned everything ahead up-
on wheels (legs) to clear the
track for the lioyal Moscow
Lightning Kxprei-s. Moscow
is not in Kamt.schatka, but
Erasmus Jackson said that
that didn't make any diil'er-
once The " general office'' of
the company was at Moscow.
As the Doctor looked on,
amused, tho brakes were ap-
plied to the express with a ; ;
Budiienness that nearly threw i
it heels over head. That,
however, was to avoid a colli-
sion with a freiirht train, and a
purse of marbles was immediately
made up and presented to the
express engineer by the pas-
sengers, who owed their lives to
his presence of mind.
" Upon my word," exclaimed
Dr. Thwackem, chuckling, "it's
truly quite shocking to tliink of
so narrow an escape.'
All at once a new idea entered
the good Doctor's \\ hiti^ head. Ho
looked down to the southeast
corner of tlii> jilay-irround ; there
was located 1 inibiictoo, tlie other
terminus of the railway Tim-
REPRINT El) ST^jRIES. FROM THE
looked to sec if
NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
The Doctor
close to its imaginary towers lay
a great pile of cut cord-wood.
Yes, there it was; just as some-
body had thrown it from a wag-
gon.
" I've a good piece of mind to
suggest it," said the Doctor to the
sparrows chattering on a bough
close by. " It won't hurt their
fun. It'll do them good, and her
good."
Ho pulled his head inside the
window, and left the sparrows to
chatter. Taking his hat, he
walked down stairs, and out upon
the steps.
rather long name of the company.
He contini^.ed : " On observing
your splendid system of road
management, a thought has oc-
curred to me. I wish to respect-
fully submit it to you. Do you
see that red cottage, which no-
body lives in, down by your
flourishhig city of Timbuctoo?
Good. And now will you kindly
turn and perceive that other red
cottage, rather larger, not many
yards from your noble railway
depot of Moscow? You will
notice that they are just diagonally
across from each otho^. Very
well. Oar old acquaintance
^^^fi^frz=5?^!^^
OUTLINE DUAWINO I.E.SSON. — THE FISHERMAN fl RETURN.
' Boys ! boys ! " he called in his
kind, clear old voice.
The Royal Knmlschatka Rail-
way rollins stock resohed itself
quickly into a circling group of
one hundred and twenty-lour
boys, closing around the Doctor
oil the steps.
The Doctor's eye twinkled. He
made a low bow.
" 1 should i)erhaps have said
Mr. President, Stoctkholders, and
Officers of the what— what is it?"
"(Ireat Royal Kaintschalka
j Railway." came the deafening an-
b\ii loo isn't in Kamtschatka any i swer.
Thank you," responded the
moil' that Mosi'ow, l)ut Krasmus
Ja<:kson said th:it it sounded just
,\s Weil as if it was.
II
€SH^
Widow Pitcher, who sweeps our
school-room so thoroughly for us,
bought two cords of hickory from
Farmer Mee yesterday, and told
.his boy to dump Ihem at her red
cottage on the h'tt sidi^ of the
school play-ground upon Si)nMg
Street. What did Farmer Mce's
boy do but come to town early
this inornini;, and diiinp every
stick of tlie liiekory alopgside the
red cotlaire to the riyht siilc —
Summer Street. Poor Mrs. Pilclier
woki^ up, and liniked aiioss lo the
other sidewalk, and tlnTe it was.
She told nie before school-time
that she didn't know how in Ih''
all
Doctor, slipping politely out of world she was going to get
the necessity of repeating ihc that wood over to her yard, where
it ought to be. Don't you think
that the freight trains of the—
Royal Kamtschatkn Railway could
solve her difficulty for her,especi-
ally if I should give them half an
hour's extra recess to accomplish
it?"
Instantly the whole throng of
Institute boys might have
been discovered rushing across
the broad play-ground to Tim-
buctoo. which became at once
tho great freight centre of the
G.R. K. R. R. Erasmus Jack-
son, Guy Merrill, and Lee
Holmes laid aside loftier dig-
nities, and became hard-
worked freight dispatchers
" Three cheers for the Royal
Road !" shouted out some one,
as the first freight train, each
boy carrying half a dozen thick
hickory billets, set out for
Moscow. All passenger trains
went off for the day. Line
after line laden with the mis-
delivered wood steamed off
hot and fast for the distant
back fence, where their bur-
den was tumbled over into
Mrs. Pitcher's yard. The
hooting, switching, whistling,
and calling grew so loud that
the passing towns-people halt-
ed before the boundaries of
the Institute play-ground, and
asked each other " if Dr.
Thwackem was deaf."
As he was leaning composed-
ly out of the upper window,
laughing to himself at the
quick work the railway was
making \yilh their job, and
commenting upon it to the
sparrows, it is lo be supposed
he countenanced the racket.
The last stick was finally
tossed over into Mrs. Pitcher's
domain. The last Great Royal
freight train disjointed itselfin
the middle of the i)lay-ground-
The boys came thronging iii>
the narrow staircases, laughing
and chaffing, and not without
secret i)leasure at having ae-
coin])lished a kindly act even
in play.
The Doctor stood up as they
resumed their seats, lie looked
around and down upon them
with an eye whose moisture
gave a hint at his pride in tlieie .
_l "Mr I'resident, Stockholders,
Directors, Luirines, and Cars of
the (ireat Royal Tiin — Kaint-
schalka liiilway, I thank you. You
havc> turned sport into a generous
deed, and an' only twenty minutes
ovi'r the usiial recess hour. Again
I thank you — Now,l)oys,l()books. "
And to bjoks they went.
\\'\vn live Franklin Institute
canii' li'Liether the next niurnini;-
then', printi'd in husre uneven let-
ters uiion the l)la(kl)unr(l, in front
of wliuh stood Mr. Thwackem.
the l)(iys nad
"MKS I'iTelieU'- tHiMiKS and
(loD nieSS tllK Hale RoDe.'
Its name hi* . evidently been
too much lor .tlrs Pitcher's edu
irttional resources. — Iluij/cif ,
Young Ptiii ii:. •
W'
you think
I of the —
Iway could
her.pspeci-
cin half au
iccomplish
throng of
fht have
ing across
d to Tim-
e ut once
tre of the
mus Jack-
and Leo
oftior dip-
le hard-
)atcher8
r the Royal
t some one,
train, each
lozen thick
?t out for
■nger trains
day. Line
th the mis-
teamed off
the distant
1 their bur-
over into
-ard. The
■whistling,
loud that
people halt-
imdaries of
ground, and
r "if Dr.
af."
ir composed-
er window,
self at the
ailway was
ir job, and
it to the
10 supposed
he racket,
was linally
rs. Pitcher's
Great Royal
ited itsellin
ilay-ground-
ironging up
ert, laugliiiii;
not without
having ao-
ily act even
1 up as they
lie looked
\ipon them
ise ni<)i»ture
jile in till 11'.
toekliolilev>,
iiid Cars oi
fini — Kanit-
ikyou. Ydu
( a generou.s
iity mmuteh
loiir. Again
ys.to books. "
unt.
n Inslituli'
xt niiirnini;'
uni"ven bt-
ird, in frinii
Thwackem,
HmiKS anil
[MJe RoDe."
lently been
tihi'i's I'du
IJiii/ji'i-'
;;
1
REPRINTED
THB BOY THAT DREW THE
BABY'S PICTURE.
There was once a little Ameri-
can boy named Benjamin West ;
when he was only seven years
old he was watching the beautiful
baby, daughter of his eldest sister,
in her cradle, when she seemed to
him to be thu most beautiful thing
he had ever seen, and he ran and
got some paper and drew the
picture in red and black ink.
The likeness was siiid to be an
excellent one and from that time
forth his mind ran on nothing
else than being an artist. His
father was a Quaker farmer and
had not the money, even if he
had the wish to give his son the
education necessary for an artist ;
but still Benjamin West worked
on making his first paint brushes
out of the hairs of a cat's tail,
and painted away from his
seventh year of age to the time
ofhisdeath. His birthplace was
in Springfield, Pennsylvania,
and he went from there to
Philadelphia where he reeeived
some instruction in his art and
there and in the neighboring
towns and New York, practised
it chiefly as a portrait painter.
In 1760 when twenty-two years
old he went to Italy where he
remained for three yi'ars.sriiiiiing
very remarkalilo succi-ss, and
then went to dwell for the rest
ol his lifetime in London, Eng-
land. Here he received the
highest honors that can bo given
all arli.st, being made president
of the Royal Academy, and for
iii'arly forty years he was the
friend of King Gi'oigo the Third
who was proud ol being his
|)atron. But still Benjamin
West made one great mistake
as an artist, which Samuel
Smiles in St/j Ilr'/i, a book that
everybody should read.refers to
in those words; " AVest miijht
have been a greater painter, hail
he not been injured by tooearlv
success ; his fame though greiit,
was not purchased by study,
trials, and difhcnlties. and it
has not been enduring."
THE PARROT'S MEMORY.
A parrot was once the pet of
;i beautiful Spanish lady, who
laressed him daily, and taught
him her musical tongue. At
last she sold him to an English
naval officer, who took him home
:is a present to his wife.
For some time the parrot seemed
to be melancholy beneath the
icray skies of England, where
men and birds spoke a tongue
unknown to him. By degrees,
however, he learned some
English sentences, forgot ap-
parently all the Spanish he ever
knew, and regained health and
.-spirits.
Years passed away, and the
I>arrot still lived as the pet of the
whole family ; he grew to be
very old, could only eat pap. and
cnild scarcely climb his pole, but
nobody had the heart to destroy
ilim, and so he grew weaker and
STORIES, J'ROM
weaker. One day a Spanish
gentleman called, and was shown
to the room where the parrot
lived.
A lively discussion arose in
Spanish between the visitor and
his host. It was the first tiifne
since his arrival in England that
the bird had heard his native
language, and it must have re-
minded him of his sojourn on the
Peninsula. With wild delight
the parrot spread out his wings,
repeated hurriedly some of the
Spanish phrases learned in his
youth, and fell down dead. The
1'oy of hearing the sweet accents
le had learned when he was the
senorita's companion was more
than he could bear. — Harper's
Younf^ People.
rilK "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
77 5?
him, " My boy, yon must trust
God first, and then you will love
Him without trying to at all."
AVith a surprised look he ex-
claimed, " What did you say ?"
I repeated the exact words
again, and I shall never forget
how his large, hazel eyes opened
on me, and his cheeks flushed
as he slowly said, " Well, I never
knew that before. I always
thought that I must love God
first before I had any right to
trust Him."
" No, my dear boy." I answered,
" God wants us to trust Him ; that
is what Jesus always asks ns to
do first of all, and He knows that
as soon as we trust Him we shall
begin to love Him. This is the
way to love God, to put your trust
T IK HOY THAT DREW THE HAUV S I'lCTlIKK.
HOW TO LOVE GOD.
In a beautiful New England
village a young man lay very
hick, drawing iic»r to death, and
very sad. His heart longed
for a treasure which he knew had
never been his, and \vhich was
worth more to him now than all
the gold of all the we,>?(eru mines.
One day 1 sat down by hiiu, took
his hand, and, lo<;king in his
troubled face, asked him what
made him .so sad.
" lit, do," said he, " 1 want to
love God. Won't you tell me how
to love God ? "
1 cannot describe the piteous
tones in which ho said these
words, and the look of trouble
which he gave to mo I said
in Him first of all." Then spoke
to him of the Lord Jesus, and
how God sent Him that we might
lielieve in Ilim, and how, all
throucrh his life, He tried to win
the trust of men ; how grieved
He was when men would not be-
lieve in Ilim, and every one who
believed came to love without
trying at all. He drank in all the
truth, ;\nd4(im)>ly saying, " 1 will
trust Jesus now,' without an ellort i
put his young .soul in Christ's! A Christntii man, working hard
hands that very hour ; and so he for GoJ, was told by the doctor
came into the peace of God that he must give up all work if he
which passeth understanding, and would save his life,
lived in it calmly and swcn>tly to j His answer was, "1 would
theend. None of all the loving i rather spend two or three years in
frii'iuls who watchec! over him doing good than exist lor si
Uiriim the remiuwing weeks ol idleness.
his life doubted that the dear boy
had learned to love God without
trying to. — Word and Work.
ONE STEP AT A TIME.
Many there are who stand hesi-
tating on the threshold of a Chris-
tian life, unwilling to commit
themselves by taking a first step
lest they should not prove able to
hold out in the new way. To
such the following narrative from
Early DexB may prove a hcfpful
suggestion. We give it as we
find it, commending it to their
earnest attention :
" George Manning had almost
decided to become a Christian,
one doubt held him back. ' How
can I know,' he said to himself,
'that even if I do begin a re-
ligious life, I sh>>.ll continue
faithful, and finally reach
heaven?' He wanted to see
the whole way there before
taking the first step. While in
this state of indecision and nn-
happiness he one evening sought
the house of his favorite pro-
fessor — for he was a college
student at the fime — and they
talked for several hours upon
the all absorbing topic. But the
1 onversation ended without
dispelling his fears or bringing
him any nearer the point of de-
cision.
" When he was about to go
home the professor accompanied
him to the door, and, observing
how dark the night was, pre-
pared a lantern, and, handing.
It to his young friend, said,
"•George, this little light
will not show you the whole
way to your room, but only one
step at a time ; but take that
step and you will reach your
home i'l salety.'
" It proved thu word in sea-
son. AsGeorge walked secure-
ly along in the path brightened
by the little lantern the truth
Hashed through his mind, dis-
pelling the last shi.dow of doubt.
" ' Why can I not trust my
heavenly Father,' he said to him-
self, 'even if I cannot see my way
clear to the end, if he gives me
I lie light to take one step? I
w ill trust him ; I do trust him.'
"He could hardly wait till be
reached his room to fall on his
knees and thank God for the
peace and joy that filled his soul.
Early next morning the professor
was summoned to the door. There
he found George Manning. With
beaming face he looked up to his
teacher, and as he bunded him
the lantern said signilic'intly ;
■ ' Doctor, your little lamp
lighted me all the way home last
mght.' ■
A CHRISTIANS CHOICE.
1 o 1 1 1
X in4|
78
IlKlMllNTKD STORIES. FllOM TIIK •< NoHTIIKHN MKSSENOE '."
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
One Huminer, somo years ag'o,
a large river in thi' south of
France, over(lo>ved its lianks,
carrying destruction i'arand wide,
washing away whole villaijies, and
large portions of towns, and send-
ing numbers of souls into eter-
nity, with scarcely one moment's
warning. Parents saw their chil-
dren, and children their parents,
drowned before their eyes ; hus-
bands had no power to save their
wives, nor wives their husbands,
and whole families, who when
BAD BARGAINS.
Once a Sabbath-school teacher
remarked that he who buys the
truth makes a good bargain, and
enquired if any scholar recollected
an instance lu Scripture of a had
bargain.
" I do," replied a boy ; " Esau
made a bad bargain when he sold
his birthright for a mess of pot-
tage."
A second said, "Judas made a
bad bargain when ho sold his
Lord for thirty pieces of silver."
A third boy observed, " Our
It was with great pleasure that
we heard him say one evening,
as with beaming face, he turned
to his friend Lord Shaftesbury,
who occupied the chair — " Why,
my lord, some people coiiinlain
that they cannot understand the
repeated efforts to grasp the
i>ridle in his mouth, each time
falling heavily to the road, and
narrowly escaping injury Irom
the horse's feet. lUit ho at last
made an extraordinary spring in
the air, and, grasping the bridle
II
glorious G-ospel of the Lord .lesus ' firmly in his teeth, pulled the
the sun vj-ent down, thought only Lord tells us that he makes a bad
of peace and safety, were, before bargain who, to gain the the whole
morning engulfed in the pitiless world, loses his own soul."
flood
Among the inhabitants of
this part of the country, was
a mother with her twin babes,
whom she loved very dearly ;
and when the dreadful waters
came dashing round her
house, rising higher and
higher every minute, you
may be sure that she tried
her best to think of some way
of saving them. First she
l)ut them into a tuli of the
kind in which French people
wash their clothes, hut this
soon began to leak, and she
saw that tlu^re would be no
safety for iln'ni there.
There was a tall tree grow-
ing near the house, and into
this she climbed with her
two baby-boys. But the
\ipper branches, to which the
ivater was driving her, were
too slight to bear the weight
which was on them, and she
telt them crackinir beneath
lier. As (juickly as possible,
she tied her children as high
in the tree as she could, and
then, being obliged to let go
lier hold, she dropped into the
wat.ir, which closed over her
lie.id, and she was drowned.
And now, of what i.s this
mother's love a faint, but only
II faint, picture? You ali
know, I am sure, who has
.said; "A mother may for-
aet, yet will 1 not foi net thee.''
< >. have you trusted in that
love, or are you .still careles.s
about it, going on as il it were
nothing to you, whatever it
might be to others 7 Tln'
story of His love ha.s been
often, olten told, but it will
keep its freshness to all eter-
nity ; and those who are saved
will never be weary of sii:;;
inn "Worthy is tii<' Lamb that
was slain to receive power, and
riches, and wisdom, and slrensith,
and honor, and glory, and bless-
ing "
It is pleasant to havi- to tell you
tiiat the babes were soon saved
by a j);iS8ing boat ; and it is i" be
hop(Hl that 'he lives thus spared
may not be wabte<l, but may be
devoted, tlirousrh the knowledge
of the love of (.'hrist, to the service
!!!' Ood. — Labor of Loue.
" Boy, what will you take to tell
Christ. Not understand it I
Why, it is as plain as A B C :—
£^ — " ' Ar.ii have sinned, and come
short of the glory of U-od ; '
2 — " ' Behold the Lamb of God,
which taketh away the sin
of the world ; '
(J — " ' Come unto Mo, all ye that
labor and are heavy laden.'"
— Friendly ViHi'liir.
horse's head down and put a stop
to tho runaway. Wo could not
learn the name of tho owner of
tho horse. Tho dog having done
a remarkabl# t.^rvice disappeared
in tho direction of George street.
Eye-witnesses state that it was
one of the most intelligent acts of
a dumb beast which they had
ever seen. — iVew Jininswirk
(iV.J.) Fredonian.
.iriKii-; iwviN'ES SHOUT seumun.
a lie for me '." asked a mate of
oneof thelittlerabin-boyson board
of a fine English ship. ''Not all
the gold of Calilornia, sir," was
the prompt answer of the lad.
Nevku give up your enthu-
•"• siasms
.JUDGE PAYNE'S SHORT
SERMON.
The jiithy sayings of tlie late
Judge I'ayne will never be for-
gotten by the thousands who were
privilegi'd to hear him. IIisbri(>f
Gospel Sermon was perhaps one
1 of his happiest utterances.
A DOG STOPS A RUNAWAY
HORSE.
.A horse attached to a cart, be-
coming unmanageable on upper
Ciiurch street Wedne.sdiiy, started
oli'ona run, leaving the owner
sitting in the road where he had
fallen when the animal started.
The horse was heading thi! street
named, and putting on more
steam with every bound he made,
until the corner of (reorge street
was reached. Here a large New-
foundland dog suddenly appeared
in the road and rushed toward
the horse's head. The dog made
A KIND HORSE.
A gentleman owned a fine
horse which was very fond of
him, and would come from
the pasture at the sound of
his voice and follow him about
like a dog. At one time, the
horse became lame, and was
obliged to stay in his stable
and not be used for many
weeks. During this time, an
old cat made her nest upon
the scaffold just above the
horse's manger, and placed
there her little family of live
kittens. She and the horse
got on nicely for some days.
She jumped down into his
manger and went off for food,
aiidthen came back andleaped
up to her kittens again. But
one morning she rolled off
into the manger with her foot
bleeding and badly hurt, so
that she could scarcely crawl,
she managed to leap away on
three feet and get her break-
fast, but wh"ii she came back,
she was entirely unable to
get to her kittens ; and what
do you think she did '? She
lay down at the iiorse's feet,
and moved and looked up
several times till, at last, pony
seeming to understand her
wants, reached down, took
tlie cat in his teeth, and tossed
her up on the scaffold to her
kittens, who, I doubt not,
\vere glad enougti to see her.
This was repeated morning
alter morning. Kit would
roll off into the manger, go
out and iret lier breakfast,
come back, and lie tossed up
to her family by the kind
horse,-- Ife.s/ecrt Chrislian Ad-
rnrnte.
Tempeijantk Liteh.\tttre.— -
The Rraiuc well says: — ' All tem-
perance work that takes no
measure to <li8seininato temper-
ance literature in tho com-
munity neglects tho use of the
most important arm of the
teni|ierance reform. It is like
oyster soup got up without
using any oysters. That is
where to look for the dead
lodgim and suspensions and ex-
pulsions :
ssai
\l
tATTIRE.—
■ AUtom-
tuki's no
a tempBr-
lie, ooin-
isc ol' the
ol thi^
t is liki!
wilhont
Tliat is
the deiid
4 and ex-
REPItlNTKD STORIKS, KHOM THK " NOWTHKUX MKSSKXr.KR."
79 V
TUB GYMNAST OF THE SEA
BY F P CHAPLIN.
faBhioii of ftccomplishin;^ tho lahor.
While I'onr are playiiiii onrsmeii,
the resting four may be (rettinpf
somethinjf ready for sniiper — and
it's "supper-time" about all the
time with them, so report saith. |
Someliines the wily Captain!
finds a ioe not agreeable to his
mind — what then--what happens
when the grampus or the carha-'
lot offer fight ? Well it is droll
eiiouffh.ibr in this dire emergency
the old sea-pirateresorts to a dark
andmost nonf'using bit of strategy ;
ho always carries about him, in a
grow again, an d the sea-giant
girded with new strength
sets forth more determined than
Octopns vulgaris is his name, ever to conquer his enemies,
mid in and out among the sheltered I Can you guess where the
bays of islands dotting the great , mouth is V within the space
Northern Pacific, he moves with ! surrounded by these eight lively
solemn purpose, mercilessly en- 'arms, there you find it, with a
trapping " myriads of lesser voy- thick round lip, and just under
airers," that in shoals glid(^ with the lip a sort of parrot-like beak,
sinuous sweep on toward the with the short mandible upper-
highways of the mighty deep. I most. There is no bone under
With the greatest diligence the these mandibles, but their interior
monster travels over lovely sea is filled with a fibrous substance
forests wavering in calm beauty i of marvellous strength and solid-
heneath the swell
of tho Indian
ocean, or the blue
waters of the
Mediterranean.
In these dim-
lighted thorough-
fares he delights,
inlets and round-
ed curves afford
tho hiding-places
that he loves ; in
them, restmg
quietly on beds of
sea-weed, he finds
countless com-
panies of scaly
beauties utterly
powerless to re-
sist his electric
touch !
Very curiously
endowed is our
mammoth triivcl-
ler ; no shell, no
skeleton has he,
but in the back
arc two conical
piecesofhorn-like
substance, well-
embedded. His
body resembles a
|i'lly-bag, round
and sometimes as
large as a barrel ;
over this, the
( reature has a
sort of leather .sac,
thick and strong
Hut wonder of
wond'^rs, now
ii])p<'ar r/.y/iihuge
arms ! and upon
them are raniied
in Older nearly
two thousand
sucking - cups !
due hundred and
twenty pairs to
lach arm. How
'iin he ever get
lived with so
iiiiuiy l)usy ser-
vants I And think,
if you can, how
terribly he would hold on to ify. The muscles of the jaws liit; inside pocket, a great supply
iiny-thing hecauu'ht ! Soinelinies, are very powerful, and the t(Uigue of ink, and now, to bafife his au-
when sailors have been attacked is delicate and capable of perfjomi- tagonist, out eoines this ink-baa-
l)y this horrible sea-pirate, they insr various olHc,.s in the disposi- to the rescue, and so iniuh is
linve willingly cut otFa hand or a tion of food. thrown out thai, all about, th
loot to free themselves from the When this Iny traveller sallies water is so blackened that nobody
Icarful embrace. If it so happens forth in ([uest ol adventure by sea, can see straight, and Octopus is
iliat Octoi)us himself has fallen the huge disc of a body becomes safe, for every other creature
iivto hands stronger than his own a b lat ; and for merry rowers, roaming round is utterlv mystified
lie will irladly lose some of his Captain Cejihalapod calls for ihe and confounded. It is then that
liowerful pincers ill the tussle lively exer(-ise of the eight strong the owner of the ink-baj slips oil
'iitherlhangive up and be beaten ; arms, and a right jolly time they with a stealthy mov-.ment to a
and really it does not matter have, never getting weary, sinci' covert he has aforetime made
much, since in a little tijpe they they follow the "ride and tie" note of against a season of sudden
surprise. This dark-huod sub-
stance is helpful in other ways ;
it is the sf/iia used by painters,
and is much viiiuod i v artists
for the delicate brown tints it
afibrds.
AVhen this mammoth dweller
of the seas changes his mood, and
decides to take a trip on land,—
though on land beneath tho
waves, — he at once issues orders
to his sturdy oarsmen, and, in-
stanter, they become the most
nimble of legs ! bearing about
with swiftness and ease the now
plump body. In
a trice the in-
dependent travel-
ler strides up and
down the sandy
highway, tramp-
ing on like an
enormous spider
and passing over
slippery ledges as
easily as a lly
dances over a
window - pane.
Now see extend-
ed the countless
suckers, holding
firmly to rocks
or sea - wrack,
and, as if tossed
srently in a ham-
mock, the portly
body is presently
lulled to softest
slumbers.
On awakening,
the alert trapezist
exercises the long
arms in other
ways, twisting
andtwirlingthem
here and there,
furtivelv grasp-
ing at hidden tit-
hits, or stretching
Ibrth in search of
turner game, un-
til marching or-
ders are again
issued
Octopus we
have introduced
to you with his
eight arms and
bill ink-bag No
wonder, if the
out spreail arms,
with all tbose
ugly sucking-
cups, were in
duty, that it was
called " a hun-
dred limb'd crea-
ture ! "
Octopus, ugly
as he is in ap-
pearance and character, is, by
sailors of East Indian seas, regar-
ded asa most delicious morsel, and
if a sudden stroke of good fortune
should secure the huge body for
ii 'iraiul roast, areat is the rejoic-
ing ! Hut the courageous mariner
often loses his own life, and is hope-
lessly sucked in, piece-meal,
within the horrid lips. — WiUn
Aica/i-i .
(r(ii) LovKTH a cheerful giver.
1 -2 Coit. !) : 7
WH»-
X hi)
* THE
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENOER."
THE
LAST STRAND OF
ROPE.
In (ho yoar 1846. on St Kilda.
one of the InlandH of Wostern
Scotland, thoru lived a poor
widow and her son. She trained
him in the fear of the Lord, and
well did he repay her cure. He
was her stay and support, though
only sictcen years of age. They
were very poor, and to help their
scanty me<tl8, Ronald, her sou,
used to collect sea-birds' eggs up-
on the neighboring cliirs. This
feat was accompanied with con-
siderable danger, for the birds
used often to attack him.
One day, having received
his mother's blessing, Ronald
set off to the clifis, having
supplied himself with a
strong rope, by which to get
down, and a knife to strike
the bird, should he be at-
tacked. How magnificent
was that scene ! 'The clifl
rose several hundred feet
above the sea, whose wild
waves lashed madly against
it,dashingthe glittering spray
tar and near.
Ronald fastened one end
ot the rope firmly upon the
top of the cliff, and the other
round his waist, and was
then lowered until he got
opposite one of the fissures
111 which the birds build,
when ho gave the signal to
liis companions not to let
him down any further. He
plunlcd his foot on a slight
projection of the rock.grasped
wiih one hand his knifo. and
wilh the other tried to take
the eggs. Just then a Idrd
ilcw at him and utt.icked
him. Ho made a blow with
the knife ; but, oli ! hoirible
to narrate, iu place of strik-
ing the bird, he struck the
rope, and, having sovorod
some of the strnyJs, ho hun<^
sus]>cndcd over that wild
abyss of rusjing waves l>y
only a few thread.s of hemp.
Ho uttered a piercing ex-
clamation, wliich was heard
l)y his companions above,
who saw his danger, and
gently tried to draw him up.
Awful moment ! As they
drew in each coil, Ronald
ielt thread after thread giv-
ing way. "t) Lord! save
me," was his lirst agonizing cry ;
and then, "O Lord! comfort my
dear mother." lie closed his eyes
on the awful scene as ho felt the
lopo gradually breaking. He
iioars the top ; l)iit. oh! tin? rope
is breaking. Another and an-
other pull ; then a siiap, and now
there is but one strand support-
iiis him. Ho noars the top; his
his companions, the frantic shriek
of his foud mother, as they hold
her back from rushing to try to
rescue her child from destruction.
He knows no more; reason yields;
he becomes insensible. But just
aa the rope is giving way, a friend
stretches forward at the risk of
being dragged over the clill. A
strong hand grasps him and
Ronald is saved.
Dear reader, if you are unsaved,
I want y.ou, in this true and
simple narrative, to see your own
condition. If living lor this world,
you are frittering away your
precious moments in pursuing
save him, which brought him I could lind, and gave him all he
safely beyond the reach offurther ' wanted, and if you'll believe me,
danger, and placed him in the Miss, in less than three hours he
loving arms of his parent ! May drank thrive gallons. The sweat
the Lord reveal to you, dear un- rolled olf from him like rain,
saved one, your danger, that you Then ho sank olf, and I thought
may flee at once to the Saviour of sure ho was gone, but ho was
sinners. — Friendly Visitor.
A SAILOR'S STORY.
I've been fourteen years a sailor,
Miss AVeston, and I've found that
in all parts of the world I could
get along as well without alcholic
liquors as with them, and better
too. Some years ago, when we
lay in Jamaica, several of us were
THE LAST STRAND OF THE HOPE.
perishing trifles. By the cor.l of
life you are suspended over the
awful abyss of eternal perdition.
As year after year passes away,
the rope of life becomes smaller
and smaller. Strand after strand
snaps as the knell of each depart-
ing year tolls its mournful notes.
How many threads are now loft,
can you tell ? Do you realize
Iriends reach over to grasp him; ! your awful position? It cannot
ho i.s not yet within their reach, j be wor.so. How vividly Ronald
Oii(> more haul of the rope. It realized his position in thai fear-
•strains; it unravels under his ! fid moment when the last strand
weight. Ho looks below at the ' wasgiving way, thread by thread
dark waste of boiling, falhomless j — when, overcome by the sense
water, and then above to the of his danger, and when that
glorious heavens. Ho fools he is ' danger was most imminent, a
gonig llo hears the wild cry of strong hand was stretched out to
sick with the fever, and among
the rest, the second mate. The
doctor had given him brandy to
keep him up, but I thought it was
a queer kind of " keeping up."
Why, you see, it stands to reason,
Miss, that if you heap fuel on the
fire', it will burn the faster, and
putting the brandy to a fever is
just the same kind of thing.
Brandy is nearly half alcohol, you
know. Well, the doctor gave him
up, ond I was set to watch him.
No medicine was left, for it was
of no use. N 'thing would help
him, and I had ray directions what
to do with the body when ho was
dead. Toward midniRht he asked
for water. I got him the coolest
H0NK8TY IN A CHILD.
In a country school a larce
class were standing to spell.
In the lesson there was a
very hard word. I put the
word to the scholar at the
head, and he missed it; I
passed it to the next, and the
next, and so on through the
whole class, till it came to
the last scholar — the smallest
of the class — and he spelled
it right ; at least, I understood
him so, and he went to the
head, above seventeen boys
and girls, all older than him-
self. I then turned round
and wrote the word on the
blackbohrd, so that they
might all see how it was
spelled, and learn it better.
But no sooner had I written
it than the little boy at the
head cried out, " O, I didn't
say it so, Miss W ; I said
e instead of i," and he went
back to the foot, of his own
accord, quicker than he had
gone to the head. Was not
he an honest boy V I should
always have thought he
spelled it right if he had not
told mo ; but he was too
honest to take any credit that
did not belonu- to him.
Two Gardeneh.s who were
neighbors had their crops of early
peas killed by the frost. One
of them came to condole with
the other. "Ah!' cried h.\
'■ how unfortunate. Do you
know, neighbor, that I have done
nothing but fret ever since. But
you seem to have a fine healthy
crop coming up What ar./
those?" Why, these are whai
I sowed immediately after the
frost." " What ! coming up al-
ready ? " said the neighbor
"Yes," replied the other, " while
you were fretting I was work-
ing."
I
i
sleeping, and as sweetly as a child.
In the morning when the doctor
came, he asked what time the
mate died. "Won't you go in
nnd look at him?" said I. He
went in and took the mate's hand.
" Why," s,iid he, "the man is not
dead ! He's alive and doing well!
What have you been giving him ?"
•' Water, simply water, and all he
wanted of it ! " said I. I don't
know as the doctor learned
anything from that, but I
did, and now no doctor puts
alcoholics down mo, or any of
my folks, for a fever, I can
tell you. I am a plain, un-
lettered man, but I know too
much to lot any doctor burn
mo up with alcohol. — British
Workman
SH^-
him all he
bcliovo mc,
reo hours ho
The sweat
1 liko rain.
>d I thought
}ut ho was
ly as a child.
II tho doctor
it timo tho
1
REPRINTKD STOHIKS, FHOM THE "NORTIIKUN MKSSKNOKK.
A STRANGE M151JARY, j
Tho most mapruitiiMMit of the
iiiii ly luini)lo8cropto(l In the honor |
II! I worship of CoiifiuMus is thO|
(lin'iktl't'kiiifj, which i« IVtMiuoiitcd ]
hy tho Kinporor, and the highj
(liliciTH of thi' (fovornini'nt. Ncari
til this toinpio is an iinincnso |ia-
vilion in whicii in a Ihrono from
wliioii tho Kini)oror is accustomed'
Id confer honors upon certain com-
pt'titors who havo suc^cessfully
striven for iho hi<fh"8t literary
nink.
On two sides of lhi« imperial
pavilion, under two 1 mg corri-
dors, are arranged about two
liundrfld immense granite tablets
I'ach seven or eight feet high, and
of proportionate width and thick-
ness. On these are engraved the
entire contents of tho thirteen
books which constitute the Chi-
nese Classics. Tho characters are
neatly cut on the two sides of the
tnblets.
It was loundthat, from changes
in the spoken languar;e and in the
mole of writing, alterations were
taking place in iho written copies
of the classics ; the meaning of
sentences was becoming uncer-
tain, and at the same time there
was a danger of some usurper, in-
vader, or tyrant attempting to de-
.stroy the original laws which he
had broken. This actually hap-
pened to tho Chinese Classics so
early as B.O, 221, when a prince
of Tsin ordered every book to be
liurned. It was then thought it
would give greater safety to these
writings to have them engraved
on stone : and this was done
with the whole of tho thirteen
liooks.
This is without a parallel in any
<ountry, and is illustrative of the
eiceeding veneration of the Chin-
ese for the writings of Confucius,
Mencius and the other sages, and
tlieir anxiety to have them handed
down unimnred.
But manv of the people aro
now accepting the teachings of
Christ instead of those of Cou-
liicius, and He must increase
while the latter must decrease ;
and the excessive regard of the
Chinese for their ancient classics
must give place to veneration and
love lor the
Uod.
revealed Word of
CIRCUMVENTING THE
WOLVES.
BV AUNT FAXNV.
"Well, children," said Undo
I'hil, " your big brother Charley
liever dreamed when he was
.showing his skilful, bwanliko
manoeuvres in skating at the rink,
that his beloved pastime would
he the means of saving his life."
" Oh, tell us bU about it I " cried
Charley's small sister and bro-
ilers, Dora, Arthur, and Dick.
" He did not mean us to knovi',
i hocauss ho does not want to alarm
u.s, but he wrote tho account to a
friend, who told it to me this
morning ; and I shall repeat it to
you, to show you how much de-
ponds upon eoolnosH, courage, and
quickness ot wit in times of dan-
ger."
Little Doni climbed upon her
uncle's knee, and tho boys got as
close to him as they could, and
with three pairs of eager eyes
lastoned on his face, L'ncle I'hil
began :
"You know that Charley was
lent to Iho Northwest on business,
and you know what a big fellow
he is — twenty-two years old, and
full of activity and courage. One
bitter cold day he and three
others were driving round the
borders of an ovcrlTowod forest
when Charley found that by
skating through it he could reach
a point twenty miles distant and
catch up with his party again. No
sooner thought of than done. He
took his gun, I'astened on his
skates, and with a cheery Htirra !
he was ofl at top si>eed.
aro nearer, their hot breath reach-
ing him, when — whish I he darted
around in a beiniliiul circle, and
ihe shaggy wretches, carried ir-
resistibly onward by their own
tremendous i'npelus, (lushed
ahead in a straight line, while
('harloy glided oH" at a sharp right
angle. With a united howl and
that awlul snap of their leolh, the
ne.\t minute they found him out,
crowded furiously on each other,
turned, and were tearing after
him again in their long, slouching,
tireless gallop.
" Over and over again did Char-
ley bafllo them with his skating
(eat of the circle, and then away
at right angles. Over an<l over,
till the bold brutal creatures in
their rage began to bite and snap
at each other, and with howls uf
disappointment to waver and to
wonder if this were not a ghost,
a shadow of a man, a hungry
dream of human flesh, which they
81
THE CHINESE CLASSICS ENGRAVED ONTWO HUNDUEDTABI.ES OFSTONE.
" Racing away, and enjoying it
immensely, he reaohedthe midst
of the forest, when all of a sudden
he came upon a hungry, howling,
pack of wolves I With a simul-
taneous clash of their sharp teeth,
which sounded liko the snapping
of a hundred steel traps, they
were upon him. Charles threw
away his gun, tore off his heavy
overcoat, and whizzed away for
dear life.
" It soon became apparent to
him that his swiftest speed would
never leave tho raging wolves
behind. They were almost lly-
Mig, tho long black hair on their
spines standing up stiff and
savage; but Charley was a prac-
tised and splendid skater, and ho
also flew at a desperate speed,
and ho never lost hope or cour-
age.
" On camo the wclves full tilt,
furious and ravenous. Now they
were finding at all points of the
compass and losing again ; while
round and round went tho skater,
with a cool head, a keen eye,
and clenched fists, working
nearer and nearer tho edge of the
forest, till at last the clearing and
the road became visible, and his
blood-thirsty pursuers with
furious howls of disappointment
fell back into the thick of the
wood."
"O h!"sighed tho little
ones, whose eyes had been grow-
ing big and bigger with interest
and fear. " Vro'ro so glad brother
Charley got oil safe !'
" Yes," said Uncle Phil ; " and
you boys had better practise all
tho fa.shionablo figures in skating
so as to be ready for the wolves,
too."
" Oh, yes, yes I " shouted tho
boys, and straightway turned a
summersault each on the carpet.
in their delight at the prospect o
lighting wolves.
" Me want to 'kati', and fwite
wooves, too," said little Dora.
" Ah, rosebud ! " cried her
uncle, holding her tight to his
breast, " we must all take caro
that no wolves, two-legged or
four, ever como near you. Wo
must keep our little lamb safe at
homo." — Christian I 'nion.
CONVERTED ItY A TELE-
GRAM.
A younir telegrni>h-operator in
an English provincial town was
anxious about his soul. Bat he
could not have gue.sHed that a
message would reach him as it
did. lie had been sleepless all
night, thinking of his need of a
Saviour, and in the morning he
went to his work with his heart
uttering the publican's prayer
The sunny weather and beauty
of Summer scenery did not en-
gage him now, for he was longing
after that peace of God which the
Christian feels.
Absorbed with his desire, he
continued to pray — " (tod be
merciful to me a sinner," and was
constantly repeating the words,
when the click of the si<rnal told
him his olRco was called. He
look his place at the instrument,
and quickly and with unusual
emotion spelled his message from
" Herbert, ' nt Windermere, to J.
B., at Warkworth :
" Behold the Lamb of (rod,
which taketh away the sins of
the world." "In whom we havo
redemption through His blood,
the forgiveness of sins according
to the riches of His grace.''
Such a telegram as that the
young man had never known to
pass the wires before. It was
sent to a servant-girl, who, in her
distress of mind, had written a
letter to her brother " Herbert,"
at tho Lakes, but it proved a,
double benediction, for it came to
the operator as a direct reply
from Heaven to his prayer. He
accepted it as such, and his faith
saw and rested in the Lamb of
God.
Meanwhile the golden telegram
went to its destination, and
brought peace to the anxious soul
of the poor servant-^irl. It saved
two instead of one. And those
words are living words still, and
as potent to bless and save — not
only two, but ten thousand
times ten thousand. — CInislian
Hmild.
I In Answering the question,
^ " How to havo a revival in your
j school," William Reynolds once
'wrote; Pray for it; expect it;
I work for it; make it the one thing
! from this time till it comes. Ac-
! cording to your faith be it unto
'you. Get every teacher in your
school to pray daily lor an out-
pouring of ihe Spirit on each class.
Have a prayer-meeting of all
teachers and scholus.
i
r
82
RKPRINTEI) STORIES, FROM THK " NORTH l-HN MESSENC.KR.
^HQ
PARADISE FLYOATCHRR
These birds are very beautiful
creatures found in ditferent parts
of Asia, particularly in India. The
body of the bird is some six
inches long, while the tail is
thirteen or fourteen inches. The
bird's head and crest are bright
steely green; the upper part of
the body is white, curiously
streaked with a narrow black
line down the centre of each
feather. The quill-feathers are
white, edged with black. The
tail-ieathers are white, with black
(hafts.
These birds, sometimes from
their shape called Rocket Birds,
are very restless, Sitting from
branch to branch, or darting
rapidly ailer their prey. One of
these birds will perch upon some
lofty branch, and when it sees an
insect passing within easy reach,
will make a sudden swoop upon
it, catch it with a hard snap of
the beak, which can be heard at
some distance, and return to its
post, ready for another object of
prey.
Theso flycatchers are rather
solitary in their habits. Qenerally
there is no more than a single
family of them together at a time,
and sometimes they will be found
alone.
The study of these different
birds is very interesting. It shows
us the wisdom and power of God,
the wondrous skill with which he
fits these little creatures, to find
their living and take care of them-
selves.— C/ii7rf's Paper.
JOHN WELCH AND THE
FRIAR.
The celebrated John Welch, tlie
minister of Ayr, was compelled,
in the year 1606, to fly to France
to escape the anger of the Scottish
kin^, James VI. While he was
minister in one of the French
villages, a friar came to his house
asking to be lodged for the night.
He was kindly entertained and
had a bedroom assigned to him
adjoining that of the minister.
Happening to awake during
the night, he heard a continuous
whispering, which troubled him
not a little, ascribing it to evil
spirits haunting the Protestant
house. •
Walking abroad next day, a
peasant saluted him, and asked
him how he did.
" Where loc'ged you last
ni!,'ht ? "
" With the Huguenot minister,"
said the friar.
" What sort of entertainment
had you?" asked the peasant.
" V cry bad ; I always believed
that these Huguenot houses were
haunted; but I never proved it till
last night. There was a con-
tinual whisper in the room next
mine, and I am sure it was the
devil and the minister talking to-
gether."
" You are mistaken," said the
peasant, " it was the minister at
his night prayers."
" What I does the minister
pray 1 "
" Yes ; more than any man in
France ; and if you will stay
another night, you may make
sure."
The friar returned to the llu-
?;uenot house, and bogged lodging
or another night, which was at
once granted.
" Before dinner," says tho old
narrative, "Mr. Welch came down
The evening came, and with it
the "evening exercise," quite like
that of the morning, to the friar's
yet itruater wonder.
They 8Ui)ped and went to bed.
But the friar was resolved to keep
awake and hear tho strange sounds
which he had heard tho night be-
fore. He went and put his ear to
the door to satisfy himself as to
what the sound really was.
" Then," writes the old bio-
PARADISE FLYCATCHEH.
from his chamber and made his
family exercise according to hi.s
wont. He sang a psalm ; he read
a portion of Scripture, comment-
ing on it; and then prayed."
The friar looked and listened
with astonishment. Dinner was
then served, and the friar was
kindly entertained ; the good Hu-
guenot minister asking no ques-
tions and entering on no disputes.
grapher, " he heard not only the
sound but the very words ; and in
those words communications be-
tween man and God, such as he
had never believed to be in this
world."
The day broke, and Mr. Welch
came out of his room. The friar
went to him, bewailed his ignor-
ance, and asked instructio);.
Kindly did the minister receive
him, bidding him welcome in the
nameofOod, and showing him
tho true light which had been so
long hidden from him. That light
enleiod his soul, and in it he
walked till his dying hour. —
Set.
"THE MASTER SAID SO."
About UOO years before Christ,
there arose in Greece one of its
earliest and greatest philosophers,
Pythagoras by name, whose
authority with his followers was
so supreme that they seldom, if
ever, allowed themselves to ques-
tion his positions; and the ex-
pression " The Master said so,"
settled every disputed point, and
silenced all objections. This was
the legitimate power of a great
mind.
But a far greater than Pytha-
goras once visited our earth, who
propounded principles, authorized
sentiments, issued commands, and
laid down laws for his people
and followers which should be to
them the end of all controversy ;
and are so, in fact, when they are
right-minded ; as, at a certain
time, when the fishermandisciples
had toiled all night and caught
nothing, yet, upon the direction
of their Master to let down their
neta, they answered, by the mouth
of Simon. "Nevertheless, at thy
word, we will lot down the net."
" And when they had this done,
they enclosed a great multitude
of fashes." No one ever lost any-
thing by embracing a sentiment
or performing an act " at Christ's
word."
When a cavilling world asks,
"Why send abroad your choice
young men and maidens among
the heathen?" the all-sufficient
answer is, " The Master said so."
" Go ye into all the world, and
preach the gospel to every
creature." To every creature?
At home, as well as abroad ? Yes :
for so saith the Master. " For I
must go into the next town,
and preach the gospel there
also."
Shall I confess Christ before
men ? Shall I join the church, and
frequent the Lord's table ? Shall
I be for him, and not against him,
in the world ? Shall I take his
yoke fully upon me, and follow
him all my life long, in the regen-
eration of this world? Yes, yes;
for so he advises, exhorts, and
commands me. — American Messen-
ger.
The Rev. E. E. Hale once said :
I am tired of hearing people say
that they prefer to worship God
in the fields in summer, by the
side of some babbling brook.
What if they do ! We are not per-
mitted to live for our own plea-
sures but for the glory of God
and the good of the world. United
worship in the sanctuary makes
the world better. Therefore we
have no choice in the matter. It
is our duty to attend the house
of God regularly.
Qll-9®
n
m^-
r
KKI'KINTKI) STOUIKS. KKOM TIIK " NORTH KUN MKSSKNCKR."
THE MANTIS.
Thero aro pluiity ol' hypocriti-
cal inmi and womon, ami some
liypocritieiil chiUlron, I am afraid,
hut I iitiV('r hoard of inoro than
niio ini>rahor of tho unthinking
proation who had that worst oif
Inults, and ho, poor wrotch, was
probably falsely accused, the vic-
tim of appearances and the super-
xtitions fancies of narrow-minded
people.
In most warm countries there
is found a little insect called the
mantis. I should think, from the
cnfi^ravinffB I have seen, that
Horne varieties look something like
grasshoppers, and one kind I have
read about has the color and ap-
pearance of withered leaves
when lying motionless upon the
ground.
I read of him first in a poem, in
which, it is said, "The mantis
clasps his hands in prayer," and
never before having heard of so
pious an insect, I was interested
to discover something more of
his character. It seems that in
the middle ages he was believed
to be really a very wise and
knowing creature. If lost chil-
dren encountered a mantis they
had only to inquire the road and
the little insect would stretch out
one of its long feelers, or fore-
paws, and point in the right di-
rection. Or if a mantis came
across a child playing truant, and
taking a walk in the country in-
stead of going to school, it would
point out warningly the way the
naughty scholar ought to take to
return to his duty.
This was all very well. But
the mantis had a horrible appe-
tite. The appetite of a real can-
nibal, and the sight of another
mantis so overcame both parties
that they attacked each other vio-
lently for the sake of a dinner ;
and after a terrific combat if one
was left alive he revived his
drooping strength by a hearty
meal on the mangled remains of
his foe. Then, when all was
over, and one insect had found a
grave within the other, it is said
the victor raised himself as if
about to walk on his hind legs,
and folding his long forepaws, ap-
peared to give thanks for his
pleasant repast ; so that passers-
by, seeing this attitude of devo-
tion might believe him to be an
insect-saint, until in course of
time they discovered his dreadful
habits. A mantis could never get
L'nough to eat ; probably because
he was obliged to fight so hard
for every mouthful.
But sometimes they need not
absolutely kill their friends or
<>nemies in o'der to obtain a meal
of mantis ricat, for if in the duel
they shov.ld both lose a limb
and then c.epart in jieace to o"
Iho delicto bone, by the
they met again new lim'
have grown to take th. , ..
tho old, such is their ea.sy nature.
An old traveller in China says
that in summer the littlo Chinese
boyn keep those insects in cages ourselves to cross it, and found
for the purpose of seeing thom that wo wore walking on an as-
light, which i« (luito as exciting to phall pavomont slightly softonod
them and on tiio name principle on the surface by the groat hoat —
as a cock-fight. 1 do not know just as the pavement of this ma-
whothor they allow them to feast torial in our home cities is on a
after the battle, as their natural , hot summor day. Hero and
feeling would dictate. — Ex. : there the surface was rout by lis-
_^ I suros which were filled with
I clear water, and seemed to go
j down to great depths. Some of
The editor of the Mitsionarif thetn we could stop over, othorK
Re'-orrf of the United Presbyterian had to bo crossed by moans of
church, in writing of his visit to planks which our guides carriod
the missions in the island of Trini- for the purpose. As we noared
dad, thus describes his visit to the I the centre, it was necessary to
remarkable Pitch Lake. | proceed with caution ; the soft-
On the following day we took ness on the surface increased,
the grand excursion of the neigh- and at last we came to places
^
AN ASPHALT LAKE.
borhood, and in company with
several friends belonging to the
congregation visited tne famous
Pitch Lake. We went by the
coasting steamer — a sail of about
two hours, and landed by small
boats at La Brea, where the as-
phalt is melted, put into barrels,
and shipped. As our readers can
imagine, the industry carried un
where the pitch oozed up in li
quid form, and sent forth as from
some witch's caldron, an evil
odor. The source from which
the pitch comes seems inexhaust-
ible. We were told that hun-
dreds of tons can be dug out, and
in the course of a few hours the hole
from which they have been dug
will be filled up, and the surface
^WA^WS»tfl()B>?«ir
THE CIROLINA MANTIS. ITS EOQ CLT78TKR.
does not render the place attrac-
tive, but we had come to see a
marvel of nature, and not its
beauties. We gladly accepted an
invitation from the manager of
the works to drive to the lake,
though the conveyance provided
for lis was an asphalt-cart, in
which our party managed to dis-
pose themselves on such chairs
and stools as the ofiico could fur-
nish. The black and dusty in-
cline up which we drove under
the blistering heat, is bordered
by a luxuriant tropical growth,
amid which we could see the
richest pine-apples, the volcanic
heat of the soil being especially
adapted for the production of
this fruit. When we reached the
lake, the aspect which it present-
ed was that of a loch at home dur-
ing a black frost, with patches of
water here and there that have
oozed up through cracks in the
ice, the expanse being broken by
islands covered with a scrubby
vegetation. Being assured that
the lake was ' bearing,' we set
as level as before. Our excursion
on the lake was interesting ; it
could not b« said to be exhilarat-
ing. The vertical rays of the sun
were reflected on us from every
side, the odor which filled the
air produced a sickly sensation,
and the glare hurt the eyes. We
had read in our Kingsley that
the traveller crossing the lake in-
to the woods on the further shore
passed ' in a single step out of an
Inferno into Paradise' We ac-
cordingly resolved to eat our
lunch in paradise, but when we
reached the wood we searched
in vain for the ' cool fragrant
shade, among the pillars of a
temple to which the Parthenon
is mean and small,' by his descrip-
tion of which the great word-
painter has lured us on. We
found instead interminable bush
through which we had to force
our toilsome way, with frequent
scratchings of the skin, and un-
comfortable thoughts of veno-l
mous snakes, that might be pre- '
paring' to spring upon us from be- 1
&^
iioath the leafy covert. Wo wore
lain to rocrosH tho lako, roniouut
our ('art, and gel oursolvi's drivori
back to Iho Nhiiro, whrro, iindcr
tho safor sholtiT of a woodon
shanty, wo partook of our ptovis-
ionH. and awaited tho return of
the steamer.
A LITTLE BEHIND.
" Forty years ago I knew two
smart boys, holpors in a grocory-
storo. Thoy were brothers. They
seeniod to be made of steel
springs, so quick, prompt and de-
cisive wore they in filling every
order, They were poor boys,
apprentices then. But they
worked as if the concern was
their own, and success depended
on their energy, push and faith-
fulness. Now they live on one of
the fashionable avenues of Now
York in their own large man-
sions, retired from the grocery
business iu which thoy made
their fortunes. Holding import-
ant trusts, thoy are useful and re-
spected citizens and Christians,
They owe their success solely,
under God, to their own prompt-
ness in performing every promise,
in being always ahead rather
than behind time. And there are
mechanics and tradesmen with
whom I once had dealings and
now have deserted, because they
never would fulfil an order in sea-
son, would not send a thing home
when they promised, and in-
variably kept me waiting what-
ever might be my distress to be
served. This vice runs in the
blood sometimes, and whole
families are distinguished by tak-
ing it easy, ' time enough yet.' be-
ing their motto and rule. They
drop behind in the race of life.
They would bo run over if some
one did not pick them up and
help them on. Half the world
has this work to do, besides doing
its own. In the absence of posi-
tive orime, this habit of taking it
easy causes the poverty and fail-
ure of the greater part of the hu-
man family. With the same
chances, with equal health and
wits, in the same field, one man
succeeds and another makes a
dead failure. And why ? Bo-
cause one took time by the fore-
loek, was ever prompt, and there-
fore prosperous. The other was
always a little behindhand, and
by-and-by so far behind as to be
counted out as of no account. —
Irenccus.
Yot' ARE di.sappointod. Do you
remember, if you lose heart about
your work, that none of it is lost;
that the good of every good deed
remains, and breeds, and works
on forever; and all that fails and
is lost is tho outside shell of the
thing; which, i)orhaps, might
have been better done, but, bettor
or worse, has iiotliing to do with
the real spiritual good which you
have dom; to men's hearts, for
which God will surely repay you
in his own way and time. —
Charhs Kiii'j:sley. ^
W
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REPRINTED STORIKS. FROM TIIK " NORTH EKN MESSENGER."
principally with cru8B-l>owM nnd
arrows, and thfHe window-niches
furnished atuiiding room I'ur six or
for tho outsiders to
arrows where they
impossible
send their
would take effect
The towers are full of crooked
passagi'N and narrow, stone stair-
cases, with rooms of all sizes and
shapes Entering the door at the
end of the path and passing up
the worn and broken stone steps,
I almost lost my way in dark
CARNARVON CASTLE.
BY NKTTIB H. WIU30X.
When England became a settled
kingdom, with a number of di-
visions whose princes went
Under the English king, and
whose people paid dues to him,
Wales was one of those divisions,
and at times the Welsh were very
troublesome, refusing to pay dues,
or sabmit to the will of the king.
Castles were built and given to
English nobles, to whom was
allowed all the land they could
seise from the Welsh, and the
people were oppressed in various
ways, till Llewellyn bncame
Prince of North Wales. When
Henry III., a boy only nine years galleries, where the chattering of
old, was crowned, Llewellyn ac- the birds which have appropriated
knowledged him as kin?, and for the dcop windows for their nests,
fifty-six years rendered obedience and the sound of my own foot-
to him as superior sovereign; hut steps re-echoed till I had hardly
when Edward L became king, courage to complete the ascent.
Llewellyn at last threw ofT the At last it grew lighter, and I
yoke, aiid resisted sturdily. He ' found myself in the open space
was finally forced to submit ;
but falling in an encounter
with an English knight, his
brother David, claiming to be
legal sovereign of North
Wale., summoned a council of
Welsh chieftains at Denbigh, a
little town in the north of
Wales. They determined to
commence hostilities against
the English, but were not
successful. David waa "m-
prisoned, and this was the end
ot Welsh indopendence.
Wales was united to Eng-
land, and Edward I. deter-
mined to secure tho submission
and willing obedience of its
people It is said he promised
them a prince who could not
speak a work of English. Now,
he had a baby-boy who was
alter ward Edward II. ; he pre-
sented him as the promised
prince, and, ever since, the
oldest son of the English king
is called the Prince of Wales,
This little prince lived in
Carnarvon, the lar<rest of the
one hundred and forty-three
castles in North Wales, aii<l it
fought and castles defended room. The old histories say he
was horn in the tower, but there
aro always people who like to
spoil a good story, and those say
eight men, whoiii turn discharged he was three years old when
their arrows at the enemy. | brought there, I like the old
It was very easy forthem, close story, so I asked a guide to show
to tho narrow openings, to aim mo where the prince was born,
the Kagle and Royallowers, indi-
cated now only by a line of stones
left for the purpose. The kitche ns
were directly opposite, and (he
places which years ago held the
boilers are still to be seen, as is
also the end of the leaden water
pipe away back in the walls:
n
carefully at the enemy, but almost Entering the snrae door, we | trophy hunters have carried away
climbed the steps till we reached
the room in the seconil story,
lighted by the narrow window to
thi> left of the door. The little
square window just alioveitlighted
the "confessional," a little niche
ill the wall still holding the re-
ceptacle for holy water. This
room passed, we went clear
around the tower, till we came
through the narrowest of '.ill
passages to a room only leu feet
by twelve. This was certainty
the room of Queen Eleanor and vals, a p^rt of the town ot
the first Prince of Wi'les, whether
ho was born there, or brought
when a very small boy. Back of
(he window is a narrow door
CARNARVilN I'A.XTIiB
i:
of the beautiful ruin of this cantle
that I will first tell you.
It is on a high hill in the west-
em part of Wales ; climbing the
hill you come upon a huge mass
of gray stone, with immense
towers ; on two sides surrounded
by ;i river, while a moat or ditch
protects the other two. Oriifiii-
all\ there were thirteen towers;
five have lalleii, and the stone.s
have been carried away liy the
inhai)itant8 of the town lu build
their quaint little hou.ses
The castle has only narmw
opening.s for windows on llie out-
side ; these are not iimre than
four inches wide, but the wiills are
ten feet thickand the window.iare
five or six feet wide on tlie inside,
the sic'es slanting dose toirelher
through the thicknoKsof iIk; wall
as they get near the outside, thus
forming a kind of room in each
window.
In those days, battles were
W
between the two smaller towers.
In the centre of the main
tower, in the good old times, there
were live rooms, one above an-
other. The lldor.s have lallen.
and, looking over the inner wall,
I could si'e only the holen where
lloor-beams had rested, and a
heap 111 ruiiiN at ihi; bottom
.'Vround these central hall.s, which
must have been lighted by arti-
licial i.ieans, were smaller rooms,
and staircases only wide enough
for one jier.soii to pass. At the
end of each .sliilrcase is a iloor, so
that, y^ranliiiL; lln' enemy .siir
ceeded in lorcimj passaife to the
court, — a laiye obloiiu' square iii
the centre ol the castle, — a single
soldier could defend such a
narrow slaiiccne and yd be sale
hinuelf.
I suppose boys would climb to
the top of the small lower wlie-e
llag-staff stands. I did not care
to do so, BO I went down and be- j
TRUE POLITENESS.
A poor Arab going through
the desert met with a sparkling
spring. Accustomed to brack-
ish water, a draught from this
sweet well in the wilderness
seemed, in his simple mind, a
present to the caliph, So he
till tho leathern bottle, and,
after a weary tramp, laid his
gift at his ; -^eereign's feet.
The monarcL wit'i a mag-
nanimity that mav imt many a
Christian to blufth, called for a
which opens ui>oii a walk upon i cup and drank freely, and then
(he walls, called Queen Ele^.nor's with a smile thanked the Arab
walk. She could go outside the
i.'astte walls, and it would not be
pleasant for her in the court with
and presented him with a re-
ward.
The courtiers pressed eagerly
•^'ildii-r.t passing to and fro, and around for a draught of the won-
her only exercise out-of-doors had I derful water which was regarded
to be taken on this narrow path, j as worthy such a princely ac-
Wheii the Wi''!s wen> in repair | knowledgment. To their surprise,
she could walk from this tower to! the caliph forbade them touch a
the next, through that to another I drop. Then after tho simple-
wall, and .so (in around tho castle, hearted giver left the royal pre-
iMilering back ol the confessional, selice, with a now spring of )oy
1 lollowi-d the walk a little way, , Welling up in his heart, the moii-
aiid was triad enough that I was | arch explained his motive of pro-
iiot (:oin|ii'lie(l like the poor hibition.
" i)uring the long journey, the
water in hl.s leather bottle had be-
come iinpiiri) and di.stasteful , but
It wa.s an ollering ot love, and as
such 1 accepteil it with pleasure.
1 feared, however, that if I al-
to taste it.
queen, to take all my Iresliairon
a i>ath two leet wi<le on laclle
Willis. Tliis towiT, calleil lOairle
Tower, was the slronsfeNl of the
lliirleeii, and for this ri'iisoii the
(|uuen was placed in it; the next,
to the left, was the Royal Tower,
and the enemy would naturally
go tliere to look for the baby
prince. The banqueting hall
gr.n a search for Prince Edward's I occupied the space
lowed another to taste it, hi
wonid not conceal his disgust.
Therefore it was that I forbade you
to partake lest the heart of the
as much of it as their arms could
reach. Tho castle was entered
by two gates ; the king's gate, .^r
general entrance, and one smaller
but more beautiful, through
which Queen Eleanor first en-
tered Carnarvon. This gale is
ihemost picturesqno pa't of the
castle, being partially in ruins
and covered with ivy and wall-
ilowers.
Around the whole were high
walls with towers at inter-
Carnarvon being now built within
them.
But I think boys care less for
the history of these old rums
than for the pleasure ol climb-
ing around them. It is jiossi ble
that tho account of Carnarvon
at least may lead some ol you
to study enough of English his-
tory so that, when yon cross
the Atlantic and have the op-
portunity to see what now you
read ol, you will not have to
depend upon poor guides, or
spend half your time in hunt-
ing up why and by whom
the grand old castles were
built,— 6/. Nirholas.
between I poor man would be wounded." il
— «Hi
J
HOW
A BIRD orTWITTED]
THE MONKEYS.
RKPRINTEI) STORIES, FROM THK " NOUTriERN MESSENGER."
85
BY
ERNKBT IN0RR80M.
NICHOLAS.
IN HT.
' Of all the hant;ini^ lu'st^ com-
would !ot himsolf down froin if,
^raspini; \t liiinly with his hands;
tht'ii another monkuy would orawl
dowit uiiil hold on tu the hcols of
th.t lirst one, uuothi-r would go
below him, und so on until »ev«r-
mcndme to that inadcol y^rass by |al wor.i haiiifing to each other,
tho baya sparrow oflndia. Itisandtho lowest one could leach
one of tho most perfect bird- 1 tho Kpurrow'.s treasuri-K. lie
houses I know of, nndseemii only would eiit them all hinisell, and
to need a firu-place to make it a then one )>)' one tln-y would
real house. Its shape and mode I climb up over each other ; and
of attachment at the top to the last of all the tired lirst one, who
end of the limb are shown in the hiul been holding up the weight
picture. It is entered through the of aII the rest, would Ret up, too,
lonit neck at the lower end. The and all would go noisily off in
l)ed for the fggs rests in the bulb
or expansion at the middle of the
nest, where there are actually two
" The sparrow has fairly out- , ment. Turning toward her, ho
witted thts monkey !" 'saw that she waa looking through
TTrvi.r . ...-,.*„ „,_. „,,_ two lenses, one held close to her
HOW A LITTLE GIRL SUO- Lve and the other at arms lencrth
OESTKDTHE INVENTION lJJ^"^,!,,^"^^,^"^^^^^
OF THK TELESCOPE. Lja^' he noticed that the eye-lens
Some of tho mobt important dis-
have been made
rooms, (or the male has a perch
divided olf from the female by n
little partition, where he may sit
and sing to her in rainy weather, i
or when the sun shines very hot, '
and where ho may rest at night.
The walls are a iirm lattice-work ]
of grass, neatly woven together, :
which permits the air to pass
through, but does not allow the I
birds to be seen. The whole nest I
is from fourteen to eighteen I
inches long, and six inches wide
at the thickest part. It is hung
low over the water, — why, we
shall presently see, — and its only
entrance is through the hanging
neck. '
" Why do bird!< build hanging
nests ?
"Those bird.s lliat do make
hanging nests, undonbtt.dly do it
because they think them the .sal-
est. Hird's eggs are delicacie.s on
the bill of faro of several nnimalf,
and are eagerly nought by them.
Snakes, lor instance, live almost
entirely upon them, daring the '^
month of Juno ; squirrels eat :
them, raccoons also, and opossums, '
cats, rats, and mice. But none of;
these animals could creep out to
the pliant, wavy end^ of the wil-
low branches or elm twigs, and I
cling there long enough to get at
the contents of a Baltimore oriole's
nest. I
" In the country where the baya
sparrow lives, there are snakes
and opossums, and all the rest of
the egg-eaters ; and in addition
there are troops of monkeys, which
are more to be feared than all tho
rest together. Monkeys aro won-
derfully expert climbers, from
whom the eggs in an ordinary
open-top pouch nest, like the ori-
ole's, would not be secure ; for if
they can get anywhere near, they
will reach their long, slender
lingers down inside the nest. The
baya sparrow discovered this, ^
iiid learned to build a nest in- knew
' loscd on all sides, and tr> enter it monk
from underneath by a neck too his sleek
ong for a monkey toconveniently I rather go hungry. !><) sho liung
was plano-concave (or flat on one
covenes liave been made an-; aide and hollowed out on the
cidentally , and it has happened ; other), while the one held at a
to more than one inventor, who distance was piano convex (or flat
hft<llongbeensearchiiigaftersome on one side and bulging on the
new combination or material for other). Then taking tho two
carrying out a pet idea, to hit np- ] glacses, he repeated his daughter's
on tho right thing at last by mere experiment, and soon discovered
chance. A lucky insUnce ol this that she had chanced to hold the
kind was the discovery ot the lenses apart at their exact focus,
search of fresh plunder, which, 1 ] principle of the telescope, and this had produced the won-
suppose would be even to a dil- 1 .Nearly three hundred yearsago, Jerful eflect that she had ob-
served. His quick wit and skilled
invention saw in this accident a
wonderful discovery. He im-
mediately set nbout making use
of his new knowledge of lenses,
and ere long he had fashioned a
I tube of pasteboard, in which he
jset the glasses hrmly at their ex-
i act focus.
I This rough tube was the germ
I of that great instrument the tele-
{ scope, to which modern science
I owes so much. And it was on
October 22, 1608, that Lipper-
Isheim sent ta his government
three telescopes made by himself,
calling them " instruments by
means of which to see at a dis-
! tance,"
! Not long anerward another
mem, Jacob Adriansz, or Metius,
of Alkmaar, a l(.\vn i.tiotit twenty
miles from Ainstordaiu, claimed
to have discovered the principle
of the telescope two year? earlier
than Hans Lippersheim;and it is
generally acknowledged that to
one cf these two men belongs tho
honor of inventing the instrument.
But it seems certain that Hans
Lippersheim had never known
nor heard of the discovery made
by Adriansz,and so.if Adriansz had
not lived we still should owe to
Hans Lippersheim's quick wit,
and his little daughter's lucky
, meddling, one of the most ralu-
{ able and wonderful of human in-
I ventions. — St. Nicholas.
THE NKHT OK THE BAYA 81'ABROW
I'erent one, tho rest makiiii? alad-
ilor for him as before.
•• Now the runiiiiiif l>aya wpar-
row saw a way to avoid even
this (laiigcroiis Irickory, She
iiothinij a
y a.s to ui't
wet. He woulil
Bananas. — Few people who see
bananas hanging in the shops of
fruit dealers think of them as more
than a tropical luxury. The iact is,
they are a staple article ot food in
sjmo parts of the world ; and, ac-
cording to Humboldt, an acre of
there was living in the town of bananas will produceasmuch food
Middelburir, on the island of Wal- (or a man ft.s twenty-live acres of
chereii, in the Netherlands, a poor wheat, It is the ease with which
opticaiinami'd Hans Lippersln'im. bananas are ifiown that is tho
that there was
y hated ."o terribl
coat
i
ri'ach up through. Beside this,
she took the precaution to hang it
out on tho very tips of light
l)rancheR, ujwn which she thought
iiu robber would dare trust him-
self. But she found that the mon-
keys 'knew a trick worth two o
iliat.' They would go to a higher
limb which was strong, and one
»
her nest over the water dose to
the surface, and the agil thieve.s
do not dare make a ctiaiii long
enough to enable the last one to
reach up into her nest from below,
as he must do, for fear that tho
springy branches might bend so
far as to souse them into the
water.
i>ne day, in the year 1608, he
was workiuir in his shop, his
i-liildreii helpiiiir him in various
small wuvs, or rompinir about
and amiisiiiu; themselves witli the
toolsandobjects lying on his work-
bench, wh(?n suddenly his little
ijirl exclaimeil :
•treat ob.stacle to eiviliisation in
some tropical countries. It is so
easy to obtain a living without
work that no effort will ever bo
made, and the nn'ii become lazy
and shiftless. Ail that is needed
is to stick a sucker into the ground,
and it will at once sprout and
" Oh. I'apa ! See how near the grow, and ripen its fruit in twelve
steeple comes !" or thirteen months without fnr-
llalf-startled by this announce- ther care, each plant having from
ment, the honest Hans looked up 75 to ISo bananas ; and, when that
from his work, curious to know dies down after fruiting, new
the cause of the child's amaze- 1 suckers spring up to take its place
i\
-i^'vitt
8I-.
REPRINTElJ STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER.
FIO.
HOW PLANTS COME FROM
SEEDS.
BY ANMIE J, MACKINTOSH.
We are ^ns^ to auist you in
finding ont yonrselves some oftho
wonderfnl thinfts connected with
the life and growth of plants ; and
if you will try the simple experi>
ment here mentioned, yon will
rarely be interested, and, besides,
will learn a great deal that you
onght to know.
Let us begin at the beginning,
then ; and as most plants grow
from seeds, we shall talk first
about seeds.
We will suppose that yon hare
collected a few seeds, such as may
be easily obtained— peas, beans,
grains of wheat, com, ice. Of
course yon have a penknife in
your pocket ; and if, in addition to
the knife, you can hare a small
magnifying glass, many o< your
lessona will be much more in-
teresting.
Take a bean
first (Fig. 1),and
with your knife
remnro the skin,
which is called
the seed - coat.
You will find
that the bean
separates into
I. — A SPLIT halres as soon
BEAN. as the corering
is remored. Now, each part is
called a lobe, and seeds which
naturally split in two are called
two-lobed.
Take a grain of com, and treat
it in the same way. It does not
split: if you want to part it, yon
must cut it. Seeds which do not
split in two are called undirided ;
and yon will find that all iseeds
belong to one or other of these
classes.
Now examine those from which
you hare removed the seed-coats,
and yon will find at the end of
each a small worm-like object
(Fig. 1,0, ami '-'ig.
•2, a), whicn may
easily be removod
with the point of
the knife. If you
look carefully at
the specimen re-
moved from the
bean, you will be
able to see that it
Ijears" somewhat
the appearance of
a little plant. Such
in truth it is — the germ, or baby
plant. But put your f^rorms aside
for a while, and let us look at the
rest of the seed. You will iiiid
in the corn that it resembles dry
llour or starch, while in the bean
it looks more like a mixture of
flour and water which has become
dry. This is the food of the baby
plant, and con.sists niostlyof sugar
and starch. U|)o)i this the germ
lires till old enough to obtain
nourishment irom the earth and
air.
Perhaps you think it strantro, if
( I the plant and its Ibod are both
* contained in the seed, that it is
FIO. 2. — \
SPLIT OKAl.V
OF COR.V.
necessary to sow seeds in order to
hare them grow. But the plant
cannot appropriate the food until
it has been moistened. But if
moisture can be obtained in any
other way than from the ground,
the seed will begin to grow just
as if partin the earth ; and you may
prore this for yourselros.
Fia.
8— A OBAIN or CORN
OINMNO TO «BOW.
BK-
Fill a tumbler with water, and
cover the top with cotton-wool, on
which yon may place a few beans
or some seed of the kind. Place
the glass in the window, and in
a few days yon will find that your
seeds hare sprouted ; and they
will continue to grow nntil the
nourishment is exhausted.
But let us return to the germs.
Place them under the magnifying-
glasH, and you will find that some
hare a root, stem, and two leares,
while others hare a root, stem,
and but one leaf Yon w^ill also
notice that all those baring two
leaves hare been taken from two-
lobed seeds, while those baring
only one leaf have come from the
undirided seeds ; hnd yon will
find, when they begin to grow,
that they present the same differ-
ences. The two-lobed seeds put
out two leares at first, the undi-
vided only one. 8o, that, by look-
ing at a young plant, you can
tell at once from which class of
seeds it has sprung ; or, looking
at a seed, you will be able to
foretell the appearance of the
plant.
Mow we shall retjuire the
plants in the tnmbler, and such
leares as you may be cble to
collect.
Observe first, that although you
may hare placed the seeds in
rarious positions upon the cotton,
still in every case the leaves have
shot upward into the air, while
the roots have passed downward
through the cotton into the water.
Some of them have had to do a
good deal of twisting in order to
aecomplish it. It has been hard
work, but they have succeeded.
It is one of Nature's laws that
leaves must so up, roots down.
But how or why the plants should
know what this law requires of
them, we cannot tell. Experi-
ments made upon this point prore
that, rattier thaa break the law,
plants will sometimes slowly
transform their parts ; that is, the
branches of trees which hare
been planted upside down, will
in time become roots, while the
roots will turn into branches.
Naw taVe the leares which
you hare before you, and examine
the reining of each, by holdingr it
between your eye and the light.
In some of them — maple, oak, and
beech leares, for instance — yon
will find the reins, or fine lines
of the leaf running in every
direction; while in others, as the
leares of the calla, lilyof-the-vaU
ley, grasses, etc., they are paral-
lel to each other — that is, they
run side by side, extending from
the top of the leaf to the bottom,
or else from the outer edge to the
stem, which passes down the
middle. The blades of grass and
lily-of-the-vailey leaves are ex-
amples of the first ; the calla leaf
of the second.
Look at the plants in the tum-
bler, and yon will find that the
leave* all come tinder one or
other of these two classes ; they
are either net-veined or parallel-
veined.
Next coHsider the seeds ; those
that are two-lobed have all pro-
duced net-veined leavea, while the
leave* growing from the un-
divided seeds are all parallel-
reined.
Let us ram up what we hare
learned in this way. Two-lobed
seeds : Two leares at first, net-
reined leares. Undivided seeds :
One leaf at first, parallel-veined
leares.
If you will commit these two
short list* to memory, yon will
often find it an advantage, as one
point will immediately recall the
others,
Bat let us look once more at
our young plants. You will no-
tice that in the case of the two-
lobid seeds, the lobes have grown
up with the plant, and are now to
bo found one on each side of the
stem (Fig 4. a, a,). They hare
changed not only their appear-
ance, but their name, since our
last lesson, and are now called
Fin. 4— A BEAN OROWINO.
seed-leares Perhaps by this
time they may have turned green;
but they will never resemble the
other leaves in anything but color.
By and by they will begin to look
shrivelled, as they part with the
nourishment which is stored in
them, and when it is all gone they
will drop off.
are wondering '
is going to do
Perhaps yon
what the plant
after it has exhausted tlie food
contained in the seed, but by that
time it is quite able to support it-
self, by di awing upon the earth
and the air. From the earth it
obtains earthy matter and mois-
ture: from the air, some of the
gases of which it is composed;
and these three things constitute
the food of the plant.— 8(. XicHo.
lat.
THE
FOX,
AND
THE
THE
MONKEY,
PIG.
BV HOWARD PYLE.
The fox, the monkey, and the
pig were once inseparable com-
panions. As they were nearly
always together, the fox's thefu
so far reflected upon his innocent
associates, that they were all
three held to be wicked ani-
mals.
At length, the enemies of these
three laid a snare, in a path they
were known to use.
The first that came to the trap
wa* the pig. He viewed it with
contempt, and, to show his dis-
dain of his enemies and hi* dis-
regard for their snare, he tried to
walk through it with a lofty tread.
He found he had undervalued it,
however, when, in spite of his
struggles, he was caught and
strangled.
The next that came was the
monkey. He inspected the trap
carefully ; then, priding himself
upon the skill and dexterity of
his fingers, he tried to pick it to
pieces. In a moment of careless-
ness, howerer, he became en-
tangled, and soon met the fate of
the unfortunate pig.
The last that came was the fox.
He looked at the snare anxiously,
from a distance, and, approaching
cautiously, soon made himseU
thoroughly acquainted with its
size and power. Then he cried,
"Thus do I defeat the machin-
ati(uis of my enemies !"~and,
aroMing the trap altogether, by
leaping completely orer it, he
went on his way rejoicing. — St.
Nicholas.
^
There Was Onoe a little bird
chased by a hawk, and in its ex-
tremity it took refuge in the bosom
of a tender-hearted man. There
it lay, its "ings and feathers
quirering with fear, and its little
heart throbbing against the bosom
of the good man, whilst the hawk
kept horering overhead, as if say-
ing, " Delirer up that bird, that I
may derour it." Now, will that
gentle, kind-hearted man take
the poor little creature, that puts
its trust in him, out of his boaom,
and delirer it up to the hawk ?
What think ye ? Would yon do
it? No, never. Well then.if you
flee for refuge into the boaom of
Jesus, who came to seek and saru
the lost, do you think he will
delirer you up to your deadly
foe ? Nerer ! never ! never !—
Dunran Malheton.
M
It
4
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REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENOKR."
S7
\l
HE LOST HIS HEAD.
■■He loat hiahead! What a
horrible thing ! How did it hap-
pen 7 Was it cat off in battle, or
did the train ran over him, or
how ?"
Well, no, not in any of these
wava ; and it was not Hoch a hor-
rible thing after all. Nor was it
80 great aloaa aa you might think,
not even to the man himbelt'.
■' No great lou for a ma.i to lose
his head ! Some men's heads, to
be Bare, don't coant for much,
bat to the man himself tho loss of
his hi ad was the greatest loss he
could have — a lose that never
could be remedied."
I am not aare of that ; at all
events it was not so in this case.
Thooffh he loat his head ho didn't
lose nis life. Those who were
beside him took care of that.
" How could they ? I f his head
was off they couldn't pat it on
again."
No, to be sure they could not ;
but then I didn't say that his
head was off. I onlv said he lost
his head. Any head he ever had
of flesh and bones, hair and skull,
face, brain, and back, was just as
firm on his neck and shoulders
as before.
■' Yet you say he lost his head."
Yea he did ; but his head was
on his shoulders notwithstanding.
The way was this. Masons were
finishing the spire of a church ;
and the man, who was a black-
smith, had been broui^ht up on
the hoist to fix something about
the vane. He was not long up
nntil he became dizsy, so alarmed
and so helpless, that not only was
he unable to do what ho had gone
up for, but the masons had to tie
him with a rope and lower him
down to save his life. That man
lost his head, didn't he ? I believe
he found it again when he got to
the ground, 1)nt he was not the
man to send np for such a job,
and his master never sent him
again. Not only so, but he him-
self woald not have gone had he
been bid. He got a fright suffi-
cient to settle that. He only did
his duty in going, when he did
not know that he would lose his
head ; but he would have been
wrong if, after this, he had gone
again, wouldn't he ? And let all
young friends remember, and
never go where they would lose
their head — never go except
when duty calls, where they
would be likely to lose their
head, or be in danger of do-
ing so. Yet I have known
young people go into dangerous
places and lose their head when
they ought not. Never fear when
duty oofls, but be courageous, and
that will help you to keep your
head. Never go into danirur,
however, without the call of duty,
else you may lose your head, and
lose your life or oe injured for
life.
There is nothing makes any one
more surely lose his head than
taken the drink sav and do things
they never would have said or
done if they had not lost their
head, if their reason were in full
exercise. So greatly have many
lost their heail that they cannot
keep their feet They stagger
and fall. Boys even have been
seen in that condition What
woirtd you think of them, if, hav-
ing once lost their head by the
drink, they took it aijain ? Would
it not seem as it' they had loat
their head altogether ?
When any one takes drink he
cannot be sure but he may lose
his head, and so the safe way is
to havo nothing to do with it.
Persoiib in all ranks have been
ruined by it. With the loss of
their head they lost their char-
acter, and lo.xt their position, and
went on from bad to worse.
Only once losing tho head by it
has been attended with the sad-
most distinguished physicians say
that we would be better without
it. There is danger in taking it,
duty does not require the use of
it. Better never taste it than ran
the risk of losing your head by it,
and of the consequences which
may How from that. — The Adviser.
HELEN'S DIFFICULTY.
Helen Preston was reading the
parable of the pounds. When
she had reached the end, she sat
back in her little rocking-chair,
with a very sober face. Present-
ly Aunt Emma came in, and see-
ing the small figure in the chair,
said, '■ Why, Helen, what'a the
matter ? You look completely
puzzled,"
■■ So I am. Auntie. Why didn't
he praise the man tor taking such
good care of his one pound ? If
he didn't want to ase it, why
dest conseqaencee. A man lost
bis head by drink oiirc, and only
once ; and while he was in that
condition he struck down the
wile he had long loved, and be-
came a murderer. A doctor lost
his head by a little drink, and his
lancet cut where it should noi,
and the patient died in conse-
quence. A coachman lost his
head by what he got at a roadside
inn. and upset tho coach, and in-
jured himself and many more.
The commander of a vessel hav-
ing many on board and much
valuable cargo, lost his head by
wine at tho dinner-table. Nobody
noticed it; he h'mself did not feel
it, but he mistook a liKbt, gave
wrong directions to tho steersman,
and the result was the loss of the
ship and not only of the cargo but
of many lives. The truth is that
a very little drink may make a
man lose his head, und the only
intoxicating' drink. Many have safe way is to have nothing to do
found it so. Those who huve|\v>itn it. No one needs it. Tho
wasn't he rii^ht to keep it carefully
until the owner's return ?"
■' Not so fast little one," rejoined
Aunt Emma. '■ You ask questions
so fast that you don't even wait
to tell me wha* "ou are reading."
'■ The paral jf the pounds,
Aunt Emma, in the nineteenth
chapter of Luke."
Mrs. Vernon came and sat down
by her little niece, and after a
moment's thought said, " What
'make it moat profitable to the
owner."
Helon'a face brightened, " Now
I understand it. I thought they
were only to take care of the
pounds nntil hia return, or. to use
them if they wished, and could
do so without loss."
■■ When you read these parablea
yon must remember they are
picture-stories — stories with
meanings to them, and the things
Jesus wanted to teach the people
were more imi>ortant than the
real facts in tho story. Do yoa
know the meaning of thisparable ?"
" Oh, yes ; you know this was
our Sundav -school lesson not long
ago. Teacher said it was to show
us how God expected a right nse
of the things he has given us."
"What things, little girl?"
questioned Auntie.
'■ Time, and — and the being able
to do things — " Helen hesitated ;
it wasn't easy to pat into words,
though she knew jast what it
meant — ■' you know. Auntie, it
may be little things or big things,
our hands or our feet, oar
thoughts, our tongues, and ever
so many others,"
Annt Emma smiled, ■■ Yes,
dear, whatever God has given us
the pojw'er to do oueht to be done
rightly and well, done so as to
please and honor Him. To let
that power lie idle — to do nothing
when we might do something —
is being anfaithfnl to Him who
has trusted us with it."
'■ Like the man with the one
pound," put in Helen.
" Just so ; Jesus wants to teach
us that neglect to use what He
has given us to make good use of
is sin Suppose, Helen, it was
grain, instead of money, that this
man gave to his servants. All
bat one sowed it in the proper
season, and when harvest time
came they had a much larger
amount of grain than at the first,
because they had made good use
of it."
'■ But what did the one man do,
Aunt Emma ?"
" He carefully pat the grain
away in a sack in the barn, and
when after some years the owner
claimed it, he brought it out, and
lo ! it was all mildewed and rusted
and dried up, of no use for any-
thing. So you see the very keep-
ing of some things wastes and
spoils them, while the using of
them increases their valun. We
often think that we only sin when
we do something wron£", but you
see hero Jesus shows us that we
was the command given to each
man as he received the (lounds ?" i sm when we fail to do right
Helen glanced down at the \ " Why, I never thought of
open Bible in her lap, and, after
a little hesitation, replied, " Occu-
py till I come."
'■ Yes, and when their lord re-
turned he called them uU lo him,
that ho might know how much
each man tiad gained by trading.
Evi'.-ntly, then, the command
signified that they were to make
good use of that which he intrust-
ed to their keeping. It was to be
employed iu such a way as would
it
that way," said Helen.
■■ Perhaps not, dearie, tiut don't
forget it in the future. To waste
time or anything else God has
given us, or to spend it foolishly
or uselessly, is as wrongas to use
it for evil purposes. Try, little
Helen, to make a good use ot your
life and everything in it, that at
the end God may say to you also,
' Well done, good and laithfal Mr-
vant." "—Childi Paper.
•N^
i
HKPRINTEI) STORIES. KUOM THE " NOHTHhlliN MKSSKN(;KK."
THE IIOIINBILL.
BY KIIKI) IIKVKIU.KV.
1
It is not slriiiii;(> thni Africa, the
hoiiit'of tht> gorilla ntid hippopot
nmuH, Hhould pohbokh th(> most
curious Bpi^uiiDfUH of tho f/rcat
clasH of birds ; for it has l>ot>n
found to contain within its tangled
junf^les the rarest and nio8t gro-
tesque forms ofauiinRl life, though
we must except the island of
Australia, where the laughing
jackoss and the kangaroo are
found.
One of the mo^t interesting and
attractive families of birds it> that
of tho hornbill, one species of
which is shown in the illustra
tion. Although this bird is found
in India, it is much more abun-
dant in Africa.
If we may believe report, the
bill of the hornbill is nearly one-
fourth the length ol ils body. The
bill is very long, curved, deep and
thin, and has n helmet upon its
crown, of various shapes and
sizes ; and this helmet is used to
give to many species their specific,
or proper names. Thus, there is
the liureros biiornis, or two-horned
hornbill ; the liticerm rkinocerof,
or rhinoceros hornbill, so called
from the immense helmet resem-
bling tht> horn ot n rhinnceros.
liurerii.i 18 the generic name ap-
plied to them for some peculiar-
ity they all possess in common ;
the s/iecifii; or individual, names
being derived from the shapes of
their helmets.
Though si'emingly heavy and
unwieldy, the bill oi the hornbill
is very lisiht, being composed ol
light cellular tissue, resembling
in this respect the skull of the
elephant ; and the walls ol thin
bone nre so fragile, that in dried
spei'Unens it nmy be crushed iu
the hand. The edge of the man-
dible.s, or l»eak>, are very sharp.
Irefjuenlly breaking otl'and Iteiiig
renewed, It is said that the age
of the bird may be ascertained
iVotn the wrinkles on its bill, as
the age of a cow i,s sometimes told
from the wrinkles around her
liorns,
Before proceeding further, it
may be well to notice a family of
birds, inhabiting tSouth America,
often confounded with the horn-
bills, from their resemblance.
These are the toucans. They
are confined to tho warmer jwr-
tions of the New World, us the
hornbills -'.re to those of the Old.
Their bills are large, of the same
.structure, but lack the helmet;
they are brighter colored and
a'audy of plumaiie Their voices
are loud and barish, and can be
lieniit a long way.
It is from tho cry of the IJrazil-
iiMl species, " toucaiio," that they
derive their name. When feed-
ing, they post a sentinel. They
have a hnbit of sitting upon
the topmost branches f trees,
chattering, lifting their heads at
regular intervals, clashing their
bills together, and crying ut so
loudly as to bo heard at the dis-
tance of a mile. From this the
nativeg hare given them the name
of "preacher birds.,' They have
great antipathy to any bird uglier
than themselves, and will mob an
owl with the lest of crows, nearly
frightening the poor bird to death
with their clashing beaks and
loud cries.
To return to our friends the
hornbills. From the great sixe
of their bills, they caimol walk
easily upon the ground, but hop
along awkwardly. The trees are
their homos, and they hop from
limb to limb with great ease,
climbing to the tree-lops, where
they remain for hours shouting
gleefully in their bravest tones.
They feed upon pulpy Iriiils,
small "nilnaU, replilesand insei'ls,
and ...ike their nests in hollow
trees.
have tieen told by Livingstone
the African exploror, that this
bird breeds, like the other mem-
bers of its family, in hollow trees ;
that it makes its nest in holes in
lhetrunksofthe8etreeB,thatthele-
male lines ils nest with feathers
Irom her own boily, and lays four
or five eggs, white, and of the si-ze
of pigeons' eggs.
In this there isnolhing remarK-
ably noteworthy ; but we are as-
tonished when we read turther
and tind that, alter the nest is
prepared to the satisfaction of the
female, she is shut up a close pris-
oner for weeks ; that the entrance
to the hole is plastered over with
mu<l, unlit only a little slit is left,
three or four inches long and half
and inch wi<li'— .just large enough
to admit the beak.
The male bird, who has walled
!
Wng up the young hornbills ; but,
although Ihey cannot tell exactly
why the plan is adopted, there is
no doubt that the old birds know
what they are about.
It is certainly not to prevent
the escape of his mate that the
male works so industriously to
imprison her, and becomes loan
and emaciated in his laluirol love,
in procuring ioo<l for her and their
! little ones during those two long
I weary months. It is more than
probable that tho object sought is
to prevent the entrance of noxious
reptiles, which could easily de-
stroy mother and young, did not
that formidable bill so ctfectaally
fill tho hole. But one thinr is
certain, the mother hornbill is
obliged to stay at home and at-
tend to her domestic duties, al-
though she must be very differ-
ent from almost any other bird it
she does not, of her own free-will
and desire, hatch ont her little
ones and take care of them until
they can look ont for themselves.
If we all attended to our duties
as earnestly and conscientiously
as mother-birds (and sometimes
father-birds too) attend to theirs,
it would be better fo most of us.
—SI. Nirholai.
THE lIUUNbll.L KEKI)l.V(t HIS WIFE.
The larsrest Bpccj"s is the rhi-
noceros hornliill. which has a
stretch of wing of about three
feet, and a bill ten inches in
length. The ireneral color of this
bird is black, the tail tipped with
white. The bill is black at the
base, reddish in the middle, and
yellow tipped.
The most attractive species, as
to plumage, is the crested horn-
bill. which has a crown of feath-
ers like the spread crest of a
cockatoo, and a long beautiful
tail.
But the most interesting species
is one noted, not for its plumage,
but for a habit ol nesting an(I liv-
ing peculiarly its own. This is
the red-billed hornbill, the ttucfms
erythrorhynchus of naturalists We
up the hole, feeds tho female
through this slit until the young
are hatche<l and fledged— a period
of eight or ten weeks. In this
time the female has become vi-ry
fat, and is often hunted out and
eaten by the iieirroes of the coun-
try, who esteem her a great deli-
cacy.
Sometimes the female hatches out
two young ones, that are nearly
able to fly before the other two
ajjpear. Then, with the two
older birds, she leaves the nest
and Walls in the younger ones,
which are le<l, throuirh the slit,
by their father and mother until
take care of themselves.
■jy tliel
iblc to
Many writers have speculated
upon the reason for this peculiar
style ol hatching ut and bring-
A CATARACT THAT RUSHES
UP THE RIVER.
In most rivers, as I've heard,
the cataracts and rapids flow
down-stream, but one of my Cana-
dian friends sends word that the
St. John River, New Brunswick,
has a cataract which has a queer
habit of sometimes rushing up-
stream,
A little above where the river
flows into the ocean, there is a
wide and deep basin that empties
itself into the harbor through a
narrow passage between two
walls of rock. When the tide is
going down, the water runs ont
of the harbor into tho ocean far
more ijuickly than the river can
flow through the narrow channel
above, and so the stream pours
itself seaward through the harbor
end of tho ]>as8age in a roaring
water-fall. But when the tide is
rising, the ocean tills the harbor
and passage so rapidly that the
sea-water plunges down into the
basin from the river end of the
narrow channel, in a foaming
cataract that falls up-stream !
Twice in every tide, however,
there is a space ot about twenty
minutes when tho woters are at
one height in the harbor, passage,
and basin, and then the ships that
are to go up or down must be
hurried through before the river
" gets its back up," as the boys
say. — Si Nirholai.
The crowning fortune of a man
is to be born to some pursuit
which finds him in employment
and happiness— whether it be to
make baskets, or broadswords, or
canals, or statues, or songs. — £»>-
trs m.
%
«H«
«4»
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REPRINTKD STORIKS. FROM TUK " NORTH KRN MKSSFINGKR."
89
THE YAK.
Tho yak, or grunting ox, de-
rives iU name IVom its very pern-
linr voice, whirh houiuU much
iiko the grunt of i\ pig. It is a
native ol the mountaiuH of Thibet,
and, according to Ilodson, it in-
habits all the lolliext plateaus of
High Asia, between the Altai and
the Himalayas.
It is capable of domestication,
and is liablo to extensive perma-
nent varieties, which have pro-
bably been occasioned by the
climate in which it lives and
tho work to which it has been
put. The noble yak, for example,
is a large, handsome animal, hold-
ing its head proudly erect, having
a large hump, extremely long
and when i)ropfrlv mnuiited in u
silver handle, it in u.sc(l a^ a lly
flapper in Indiii under the nami>
of a chowrie. These tniJF are cur-
ried before certoiu otUccrs of state,
(ir.st learned this fiirt from two
old and experienoi'd lishernien
when out on ii fishing excursion,
one lovely Auirust (lay, ofl' S<\van
Heach, New .lersey. It came out
their number indicatini^ his rank, in the course of a story, which is
The plough yiik is altogether n here
more plebeiau-Iookinu animal, |
humble of deportment, carrying
its head low, and almost devoid
of the magnificent tufts of \o\)g
silken hiiirs that friiiire the sjili-s
of its more ariHlocrntic relation.
Their legs are very short in pro-
portion to their bodies, and they
are generally tailless, thai member
having bee" cut off and sold by
their avaricious owner. There
is also another variety whii'h is
termed the Ghainorik. The color
of this animal is black,the buckand
given as it was told in the
boat ;
"On n fine morning in August,
ISti", we Ntarted at daylight for
this very reef of rocks. With
plenty of bait, we looked for four
or five hundred-weight of sea-
bass, flounders, and blackiish. At
first we pulled them up as fast as
our lines touched bottom ; then
we had not a single bito. tiur-
prised, we looked up and around,
preparatory to changing our
ground. To our astonishment the
water was alive with sharks. We
I glared ferociously at our pale
i'aces. One shark dashed at the
boat and seized one of her side
planks and almost shook us out of
our seats. Fortunately his teeth
broke ofi, and away he went. In
a moment he was devoured by
the other sharks. Then tho shoal
returned to us again.
" Wo were in despair, and ne-
ver expected to see shore again.
We could not sail, we could
not row, and wore drifting out to
sea. Finally, Charlie itaid, ' Bill,
we are in an awful mess. Let
us si-e if God will help us.' We
knelt down, and I prayed for help,
confessed our sins, and promised
ainuudmont and repentance. We
had hardly linished before wo
saw a great shoal of porpoise*.
7
THE YAK.
i
h»ir, and a rery bushy tail. It is
a shy and withal capricious ani-
mal, too much disposed to kick
with the hind feet and to make
threatening demonstrations with
the horns, as if it intended to im-
pale the rider. The heavy fringes
of hair that decorate the sides of
of the yak do not make their ap-
pearance until the animal has at-
tained three months of age, the
calves being covered with rough
curling hair, not unlike that of a
black Newfoundland do^. The
beautiful white bushy tail of the
yak is in great request for various
ornamental par[K>ws, and forms
•{uite ao important article of com-
merce, Dyed red, it is formed
into those carious tufts that de-
corate the caps of the Chinese,
tail being often white. When over-
loaded, the yak is accustomed to
vent its displeasure by its loud,
monotonic. melancholy crrunting,
which has been known to afTect
the nerves of unprtiotised riders
to such an extent that they dis-
mounted, after suffering half an
hour's infliction of this most lugu-l
brioua chant, and performed the
remainderof their journey on foot.
— Scienlijic Amfricnn.
A SHARK STORY.
It may not be generally known
that in that playful marine acro-
bat, the porpoise, the shark pos-
sesses an implacable enemy that
will permit no intrusion on its
feeding grounds, The writer
commenced pullingupouranchor,
when a savatre fish rushed to the
bow of the boat and bit the rope
in two. Then we hoisted sail,
but the moment we put the steer-
inir oar into the water, several
sharks began biting it into pieces.
So we were compelled to take in
sail and drift. We were in the
midst of a school of sharks two
miles long and half a mile broad.
They were of all sizes, from six
feet loiiir to twelve or fourteen.
They swarmed around our boat,
and dashed it one-third full of
water with their tails. We had
to bait, one with his hat, and the
other with tho bait pail. Every
moment some big fellow would
put his nose almost on our gun-
wale, while his yellow tiger eye
They hurled themselves out of
the water, jumping twenty feet
at a bound. Soon we were in the
midst of them. The sharks start-
ed out to sea, but the porpoises
were too quick for them. They
bit and tore the sharks fearfully.
Sometimes three porpoises would
have hold of one shark. Then
they jumped out of the water and
fellheavily on these tigew of the
ocean. The tight continued for
miles, and we were saved. We
rode safely to shore, and by God's
mercy became professors of reli-
gion. We have respect for por-
poises, and believe it they were
not so plentiful, the New .Jersey
shore would swarm with sharks,
and then good-bye to fishing and ^
bathing." — Brtlhh Workmiin. ♦
iH9-
•*4
iltPHINTED STORIiS, FRCM THK " NORTH KHN MKSSKNC.KK.
THE BATS AND THE MEAL.
BY PALUKR COX.
One summer's night when all was
still.
And motionless the wheel,
Some rats ran through the village
mill,
And stole a bag of meal.
And hurry-scurry, tooth and nail,
Thev dragged it to the door,
And then upon their shoulders
soon
Away the treasure bore.
But as they hastened from the
room.
Along a narrow plank.
The heavy load went in the flume,
And to the bottom sank.
And downward with the bag of
meal,
Ere they could loose their hold.
With many a frightened squeak
and squeal,
The thieves together rolled.
So then for life they had to swim.
But when they reached the
shore.
They dried themselves around a
fire,
And vowed to steal no more.
— Har/iers' Young People.
«l pari
HOW LOVE REMOVED A
MOUNTAIN.
"Mamma," said Arthur, ").ow
can faith remove mountains 7 "
" I will tell you how love once
removed a mountait," said his
mother, and then you will perhaps
understand what is now puzzling
yon:
" More than a hundred and
twenty years ago there was born
in an old castle on the shores of
the Pentland Firth,in the far north
of Scotland, a boy, who, when he
grew up, became a very useful
man. His mother was of a noble
family, and he inherited a title
himself He was Sir .Tohn Sin-
clair ; but far better than titles and
Wealth, was the training the mo-
ther gave to her son. She taught
him — for hie fitlier died when he
was young — how to manage wise-
ly his estbte ; and as ho f^rew np
he showed that he did not intend
to lead a seliish, luxurions life,
but to do hit) best for his neigh-
bors and his country. At that
time good roads wore very much
needed, even in the more busy
parts of England ; and in the north
ot Scotland, where the inhabitants
asked the reason, and Delacroii
res])onded that having for some
time been vainly searching for a
head such as ho would like to
copy for a prominent begmr in
his new picture, he was suddenly
struck with the idea that his host
would make a splendid model.
The baron, who was fond of art,
gracefully consented to sit, and
next morning appeared in the
studio of the painter, who dressed
him in rags, placed a tall staff in
his hand, luid put him into a
mendicant's i>osture. In this al-
titude he was discovered by a
young friend and pupil of the
painter who alone nad the pri-
vilege of being admitted to the
studio at all times. Surprised by
the excellence of the model, he
congratulated his master at having
at fast found exactly what he
wanted. Not for a moment doubt-
ing that the model had just be«n
begging at the porch of some
church or at the corner of a bridge,
and much struck by his features,
the young man espying a
were few, and for
the moat nsrt poor,
the roads were
often very bsd
" One day a
neighbor asked Sir
John when ho
would make ii road
over Ben Cheilt
— a large moun-
tain which inter-
fered much with
freedom of travel-
ling in Caithness.
Ho was not pre-
pared to begin a
road over Ben Cheilt just then,
but the time came soon alter. He
went to London on a visit, and
there saw a young lady whom he
wished to marry, but when he
asked her to go with him to Caith-
ness she shook her head. She
liked Sir John ; but in those days
of slow travelling and dear |K>stage
the distance between Thurso and
London seemed immense, and
Miss Maitland could not make up
her mind to go so far from home.
However, she did not altogether
refuse him, and *he went back to
Thurso, resolved that the big
mountain, Ben Cheilt, should no
longer stand in the way of a direct
road to the south. He surveyed
it carefully, made up his mind
what to do, and then sent out
over the country for all the men
that could be got to help him.
One summer's morning, at early
dawn, one thousand twohnndre<i
and sixty men assembled under
his command, and by nig'htfall
the old bridle-track was made ir,-
to a carriage-road. Before he
could go south again, a gcntlen°.an
who had just been travelling in
Scotland, carried to Miss Maitland
the story of Sir John's r jad-mak-
ing, and all his othei improve-
ments, and she was so much
pleased that she determined to re-
ward him in the way he wished.
They were married soon after-
ward.
" That was not Sir John's only
effort. He lived to be nn old man,
to do a great deal lor Scotland,
and to bo much respected. And moment when the artist's eyes
now, Arthur, you see how love were averted, slipped a twenty-
can remove mountains." i franc piece into the model's hand.
" lie dir'.n't remove it inamraa ; ' Rothschild kept the money, thank-
he only made a way over it," said ing the giver by a look, and the
Arthur. j young man went his way. He
" And what more was needed T i was, as the banker soon found out
answered his mamma. " God ' from Delacroix without fortune,
does not take mountains out of and ohlii^ed to pive lessons in or-
our way altogether, in this world, der to eke out his living. Some-
my dear; but if we love and tiuKt time luler the youth received a
Him he will give us the strength letter mentioning that charity
and patience to make a way ovi.>r bearsiutereBt,and
them ; and that is better. 'Who that the ac-
of ten thousand francs having
borne live hundred fold.
:;
TO
BOYS, ON HABITS
STUDY.
OF
" Do get on with your studies.
If von acquire slovenly or sleepy
habits of study now, you will
never get the better of them. Do
everything in its own time. Do
everything in earnest. If it is
worth doing, then do it with all
^onr might. Above all, keep much
in the presence of God. Never see
the face of man till you have seen
His face who is our life, our all.
Pray for others : pray for your
toachera, fellow-students," &c.
To another he wrote : — " Be-
ware of the atmosphere of the
classics. It is pernicious indeed ;
and you need much of the south
wind breathing over the Scripture
to counteract it. True, we ought
to know them ; but only as chem-
ists handle poisons — to disottver
their qoalitiea, not to infect onr
blood with them."
And >fun: — "Pray that the
Holy Spirit would not only
make yoa a believing and
holy lad, but make you wise
in your studies also. A ray
of Divine light in the soul
sometimes clears up a mathe-
matical problem wonderfully.
The smile oi Ood calms the
J;>iTit, and the left hand of
etna holds up the fainting
head, and His Holy Spirit
onickene the affections ; so
tnat even natural atadies go
on a million times more easilv
and comfortably ."—ii«(>. R. M
McCkejfnt!.
A ToDCHiNo Story comes
from Eyemouth England : Mr.
William Nisbet, the skipper
of one of the ilM'ated fishing
boats, had a parrot which,
under his tuition, had become
remarkably proficient in the
oie of langna^. Nisbet was
fond of his bird. Ever since
the atorm of Friday fortnight,
the parrot hat been depressed and
silent, as though it was conscious
of its loss. The other day, how-
ever, and throughout the day, it
Ibund and maintained its voice,
repeating mournfully, and with
pathetic iteration, " Bnphy,
Willie's awa' noo — Willie's awa'
noo ! " " Euphy" (Euphemia)
is the name of Nisbet's wife —
Chriitian Life.
art thuu, O, great mountain ? Be-
fore Zerubbabcl thcu sholt become
a plain.'" (Zech. iv. 7.) — Selected.
ANECDOTE OF BARON
ROTHSCHILD.
cumulated inter-
est on twenty
I francs, which he,
prompted by a
' generons i m -
pulse, had given
to a mnn in ap-
pearance a beg-
Baron James dc Rothschild one
day at dinner perceived that the I gar, was lying at
artist Delacroix who was his guest, this disposal
was looking at him in a peculiarly
searching manner. The baron
Rothschild's of-
fice,to the amount
^HS»
die*.
oepy
will
Do
Do
it i»
llhall
nch
our
I -
RKPRINTKD STORIKS. FROM THE "NORTHKRN MRSSKNOER."
01
and Fr»'iu'h tlu<>iiliy. Shf dooH nitht-r pprinh with
not Rmokc, ni>ith'-r dofii oh)' in- advin' pruvuilud.-
dulge, M Mohttminediiii ladii>i Wfckl,y.
g(>n«r*lly do. in wcarinir co«lly •—
Appnrcl. or in dainti)>N nnd con-
tVctioiifry, whici) nro dotriinoiitAl
to health. Sh)> i« miid to quotu
tho word of t^hakcHppuro,
" Why •<> largi' cu't, ImvIiik an nliort n
bontlliuii u|uiii til) failiiiK iiiannioii
npUllil / "
and tu follow tho rulu,
" lli^ iKMir williiiiii, iiiiri'Uo lliv iiiotnl
it. and her
■///«*. Chrii.
fiunr Wllliiilll,
lii*-uriH. "
Hor huxhand has raJHi'd himsidl
above thu contiiinptiblo custom of
taking seroral wives. Emineh is
his only witM, and bhe is a trae
and loving and fuithl'ul wife to
him. iiJhe was married to Prince
Tewfik in 1873, and has over
since exercised a very heneticial
iufliituicc over her husband. They
have four handsome and hvulthy
children, two sons. Abbas and
Mohammed Ali, an(l two younger
daughters. She is to her children
u taithful h id loving mother. To
her, as to the Roman Oornelia,
thoy are her jewels. !^he takes
good care ot them horsell, and
keeps for them English nurses and
teachers.
Princess Emineh is of prepos-
seMing api>earance. She is ex-
ceedingly handsome, a stately,
well-built iigure, and nohlo beur
MOHAMMED TEWFIK, KIIEDIVB OF KOYPT.
THE
KHEDIVK OF EGYPT
AND HIS WIFE.
BY BIV.
QEOROK
PH. D.
C. SEIBEBT,
SI
Of all men in high position no
one perhaps had during the last
year to go through greater
troubles and trials than the pres-
ent ruler of Egypt, TewKk Pasha,
the son of Ismail Pasha. Under
peculiar circumstances Tewtik
ascended the throne when his
father Ismail, who, in his desire to
promote the civilization and wel-
fare of Egypt, had burdened the
country with an immense debt
since 1868, was compelled to re-
sign in 1879, and to leave the
country. The statt was b^k-
runt, tne interest on the national
debt could not be paid. England
and France appointed commis-
sioners, who were to contr<d the
linances of the country, and to see
that the creditors would get all
money due to them. The young
Khedive limited the expenses ol
his court in every respect, and
tried his best to save the credit of
the country. A military party,
headed by Arabi Pasha, rose,
trained power and inttuence, and
abused the Khedive. He deposed
Arabi, but was compelled by the
Mohammedan nlemas (priests)
and the officers of the army to
restore him We do not tell the
rest : it is itill ireah in our memory,
that Arabi rose in open rebellion,
that he had the Khedive deposed
by a council of the Notaoles at
Cairo, that he caused the British
to bombard Alexandria, and that
he even threatened the life of the
Khedive, who was only savt>d by
the intervention of General Stone
and other American offioers.
In the midst of all these fearful
trials and tribulations, the Khe-
dive Tewfik had one true and
faithful friend who stood by him,
comforting, encouraging, support-
ing him in the dark hours through
which he had to pass, sharing his
atflictions, and by doingso lighten-
ing their burden. This friend was
his noble and faithful wife.
Princess Emineh is ot noble
descent ; her mother was the
daughter of a Padishah (Sultan) ;
her father was a sou of Abbas,
who from 1848 to 1854 had been
ruler of Egypt, and had been
assassinated in the night from the
12th to the 13tli of July, 1854, at
Venha - el - Hassel. Abbas was
succeeded first by Said Pasha, his
uncle (1854-I8t)8 , atid then by
Ismail Pasha, his cousin the
fattier of Tewfik. Princess Em-
ineh is therefore a near relative of
her husband. She knew him
from early childhood, and was his
love when he, who was born in
1852, was still a boy.
No wonder that the young
prince fell in love with Princess
Emiaeh, for she is not only a
great beauty, but also an intelli-
gent and virtuous lady. She is
fond of study, and speaks English
A TRUE STORY.
One day in t)ctober Willie and I
thoui(ht we would go chestnntting,
NO we tookour baskets and started
for the woods.
liehind our house, beyond the
pasture where the cows — Lily,
Violet, Hose, Clover, and Harebell
— were feeding, there is a grove
i)f chestnut-trees, and the ground
was covered with the brown shiny
iiutu ; for there had been a heavy
frost the night before, and, yon
know, it takes a good white frost
to r;rack open the hard prickly burs.
We went to work at once, and
soon our baskets began to feel
heavy. Then, when we heard a
noise overhead, we looked up,
and there, in a big tree, were two
little chipmunks scolding away at
us, andsayintr,ins<|uirrel language,
" Look at those two Hellish ])eopn) !
They're taking all our nuts.
Hut, after watching us lor a
while, they saw that we were not
smart enough to get all the nuts ;
so they began to feel happier, aitd
to chase each other up and down
the tree, and along the ground to-
ward us. The one that was being
chased was so excited that I sup-
pose he took me for a tree, for he
ing with a high intellectual fore-j ran right up to my shoulder, went
head, rich brown hair, large dark | round my neck twice, and at last
eyes, finely cut noble features and
a white color of the skin. She is
a princess in her appearance and
even in her manners and whole
bearing. She dresses like a
European lady. To her husband
■he is attached by true affection,
which he reciprocates fully.
When in the dark hours of the
war she was advised to leave hor
husband, she stood by him and
when the British before they bom-
barded Alexandria, offered to the
Khedive and his family one ot
their ships as a place of refuse,
she insisted that they should
remain in the doomed city and
stopped on my hands, which v-'ere
clasped together.
There he stayed for a full min-
ute, boking at me with his bright
black eyes, as much as to say,
Why ! if this isn't fun, I thought
I was running up a tree, and, in-
stead of that, here I am in the
hands of ono of those giants who
steal our nuts. I wonder if the
monster will hurt me ! "
Then, I suppose, I moved my
hands, for down he jumped, and
ran pell-mell up a tree, and into
his hole; and that waa the last
we saw of our friend the chip-
munk. — Nurseri/.
PRINCESS EMINEH, WIFE OF THE KHKDIVE.
r
19
»2 REPRINTED STORIES
TUB lIAaiC DANGB.
BY 0. A. ZIMMKRMAN.
It it probable that lome of you
FROM THB "NORTHEUN MKSSKNCJKR.'
hare had an opportunity of aeeing
experiment* in what i« known an
friotioaal electricity, iMsrformed
by meant of coally apparatua and
]>owerfni batteriea. But by ob-
terring the i'ol lowing directiona,
vou can now enjoy a aimilar ex-
hibition, produced in a very few
minutea by the aimpleat materiala.
We ahall require two pretty
thick booka, ao placed at to au|v
port a pane of (Tlaaa, aar twelve
oy ten iuchea m tiie, held be-
tween their pagea, aa ahown in
thia picture — the giaat being
about one inch and one-quarter
from the top of the table on which
the experiment iato be tried. Thia
done, you may exeroiae your akill
with a pair of acinaors, and cut out
of tissue paper the iigurea (hat are
to dance. They muat not exceed
one inch and one-eighth in length,
and they may repreaent abauid
little ladies and gfntlemen, or any
animal you may hap(>en to think
of.
Yon will find admirable little
figures of children in Miss Green-
awav's charming book, " Under
the Window," — if you are so for-
tunate to ])OB8«88 it. These can
be traced on the tissue ]>apor, and
colored if desired, or you can cut
small iigures out of the pictures
in illustrated newspapers, the
more comical the better.
Now place the dancers upon the
table underneath the glass (see
illustration), and with a silk, cot-
ton, or linen hanketchief, apply
friction to the top of the pane, by
rubbing jfiskly in a circular
manner; the fagures soon will
start into activity, execute jigs,
between table and glass, join
bauds, stand on their heads, — in
short, it would be difficult to de-
scribe all their antics. Touch
the glass with your finger, and
they will fall, as if dead upon the
table.— S/. Nicholas.
A BIRTHDAY GIFT.
Baby Elaie was cooing in her
crib. She was one year old to-
day, and her mother and Aunt
Marion were looking at her with
delighted eyes, when there ciame
a ring at the door. The poatman
handed in a letter, addreated in a
quaint, cramped handwriting, to
Elsie Allan.
" A letter to Baby ! " exclaimed
the surprised mamma. " And
surely it is from Aunt Dorothy.
Well, what has prompted this, I
wonder ;" "
As the letter was opened, a
piece of pai)er fluttered out. It
proved on examination to be a
cheque for $25. The letter was
as follows :
" Baby Elsie's Great-Aunt Dor-
othy sends her a birthday gift,
which she hopes Baby's mother,
niece Laura, will invest for Babv
in the wisebt way she can thiuiic
of."
" Of course, Laura, you will put
it in the savings' bank for her, and
let it be a neat egg. Dear httle
girlie, It would be nice for her
to have a bank-book of her very
own."
" No," said Mrt. Alleu," I won't
do that."
"Well, then, I'd advise you
spending it on the little thing her-
aelf. 8he needs a new dreta and
cloak, and she ought to have a
ailvcr spoon and fork of her own,
and that way of using it would, I
am sure, be agreeable to Aunt
Dorothy."
The young mother waa looking
at her child with a very aweet
expreasion on her thoughtful
face.
*■ Marion," she taid, " I ahall
tend this money to the Treasurer
of the Woman's Board of Foreign
Misaious, and let ita payment
make Elaie a Life-Member of that
Bociety. I want to bring her up
to bo an earnest and devoted
child of God, and a servant of
Chriat ; and what can I do better
than to send this, her birthday
fdease my Heavenly Father, but I
orget so often."
•■Ask God to help you, my
darling," said mamma. " When
you feel tired or impatient, no
matter whore you are or what
you are doing, raiae yoar heart
in prayer to hini loratrength todo
as he would have yon, and he will
never lail you."
"I will, mamma," aaid Nellie
earnestly, and together then th*y
knelt, a[nd the mother prayed
that the dear Father of us all
would indeed bless her child, and
enable her to " do alwars ihoae
things which please him.' — Chns-
tine R. Marshall
THK DEAD RAVEN.
A poor weaver once lived in
the little German town of Wup-
perthal — a poor man in hia out-
ward circumstances, but rich to-
ward God, and well-known in
his neighborhood as one who
trusted in the Lord at all time*.
Hia constant faith expreaaed it-
sell in what became hia habitual
gift, in her name, lo help tell the
old, old story to the perishing in
heathen lands V "
And that was the investment
which Aunt Dorothy's money
made for a weo maiden, who, if
she lives, will never remember
the time when she wa.s not inter
ested in Foreign Missions. —
Chris. IntelUgKHcer.
fb in th
utterance under all circumstances
of trouble and perplexity. " The
Lord hrlps." he waa wont to Bay ;
and he said it undauntedly, even
when it looked aa if the Lord had
forsaken hira. Such a time it waa
when, in a season of scarcity, work
ran short, many hands were dis-
charged, and the master by whom
our weaver was employed gave
him his dismissal. Alter much
fruitless entreaty that he might
be kept on, he aaid at length,
" Well, the Lord helps ; " and ao
returned home. His wife, when
she heard the sad news, b«>wailed
it terribly : but her husband strove
to cheer her with his accustomed
assurance. "The Lord helps," he
said ; and although as the days
went on, poverty pinched them
sorely, nothing could shake his
firm reliance on Him in whom he
trusted. At last came the day
when not a penny was left — no
bread, no fuel in the honae ; only
starvation stared them in the face,
do always those things which | Sadly his wife tidied and swept
NELLIE'S VERSE.
It was Nellie's birthday, and
mamma had sugirested that
she should choose a Bible verse to
help her through the coming
year ; so now she sits with her
own beautiful new Bihlf, >i present
from grandmamma, and looking
over the familiar cha|)ters of the
gospels, her eyes rest on the words
of Jesus found in St. John 8: 29:
"I do always those things that
please Him."
" Mamma, I have found such a
good verse," said N eliie, as she
read it aloud. " I would like to
-1
floor T
Poor sad humanity,
Through all the duat and heat.
Turns back with bleeding feet,
By the weary road it came.
Unto the simple thought
By the Great Master taught.
And that remaineth still :
Not he that repeateth the name.
But he that doeth the will.
~H. W. LonBfellow.
the little room on the gronnd lloor
in which they lived. The win-
dow waa open, and, poaaibly, the
wordtwere heard outtidn, with
which the weaver ttro«-e to keep
up their ooarage : "The Lord
helpa." Pr«Mnlly a street boy
looked aaocily in, and threw a
dead raTen at the feet of the pious
man. " There, aaint, there is
something for you to eat ! " he '
cried, tauntingly.
The weaver picked up the |
dead raven, and ttroking its |
fealhert down, taid compattioii- i
ately. >
"Poor creature! thou must
have died of hanger,"
When, however, he felt iti crop
to tee whether it waa empty he
noticed aoraething hard, and wiah-
to know what had caused the
bird'a death, he began to examine
it. What wiaa hia aurpriae when,
on opening the gullet, a gold neck-
lace feU into hia hand ! The wife
looked at it confounded ; the
weaver exclaimed, " The Lord
helpa!" and in haata took the
chain to the nearett goldamith,
tv<ld him how he had fomid it,
and received with gladneta two
doUara, which the |[oldamith
offered to lend him fbr hit preaent
need The goldsmith toon cleaned
the trinket, and recognited it as
one he had teen before.
■' Shall I tell yon the owner ? "
he aaked, when the weaver
called again.
" Yes," was the joyful answer,
" for I would gladly give it back
into the right hands."
But what cause had he to ad-
mire the wonderful waya of God
when the goldamith pronounced
the name of his matter at the
factory ! Quickly he took the
necklace and want with it to his
former employer. Inhisfamil;,
too, there waa much joy at the dia-
covery, for tuapicion wat re-
moved from the tervant. But
the merchant waa athamed and
touched ; he had not forgotten
the wordt uttered by the poor
man when he waa dismisaed.
" Yet," he laidthoughtfoilv and
kindlr, " the Lord helpa ; and now
you shall not only go home richly
rewarded, but I will no longer
leave without work ao faithful
and piona a workman, whom the
Lord ao evidently atands by and
helpa ; you shall henceforth be no
more in need."
Thua He who fed Elijah bv
living ravens, proves Himself
equally able to supply the needs
ot His tried servant by the same
bird when dead. — From " Tale*
of Trust." By H. L. Hastings.
i
^H9
f lllli
REPRINTKI) STORIES, KHOM TMK "NORTIIKHN MRSSKNGKR."
U3
lllK FKNNEC. OU HAHAKA 8T0IURS FKOM I'YUAMIDS Kio<lni;»«iii>|>o«itK>ii to which tho
^^^' In th- (UHlhma,,; M„^r„zin. i. •"°"»°»';»"'t t'i..ro«lyphio4 bear
Thefeniieo U .n inhnbiUnt ol »n srii.l.. „„ ih.. I'yr^mi.U. lur- •""«U'"-"nioay m utl..rly ornit-
bushy (til, which is about tight
iiichea long.
It ii Mid that the fennec, al
t
anon «ttlnff upright and roRnrd- [ Thcr. nr. r...u«in» .,f..xty.uin.. wr/.'^rftheTed *./""
ing tha proap*ct with mar vol Ion. «t Da,h.,ur ni, I S-iitkura, ol diver» l, „ »„j ,h»i ihe IVvntian. re-
gravity. Tho color of the fonnoc fo,„„_o,.« l.,.„.^ built .u live li„ mVy .vo.dti a^^^^^^^^^
;dmoiT7cr?:«v'wZ»n'^«''*Th! ''''''"''^/ t..rr«j..H-\..d o( overy 3;;," vl^r c\ "l m.;!:? mT h.i?
ulinoat a creamy whiten.-... The ,wo ; from ih.' .a.rci.t .airii of kiiitf and it i. v-ry n-mHrk-blo
fh .?nn„r».Hr .['.''' • "V"' <»»l"°'"»' "f '^e ,m.,r ; Kradu- ,„u„a ,o ail lUe olher IWaoh.
h^\.,?rmi?i. vihnK n Hi'' "'y 'dv»"c.ug to tl,o ,H,rleol while ih. .t...... that chronicle
iiiarKed witn DiacK. which marked where richer mem- abruptly, without any mention
The full grown animal m quite i bor. of the community .lept their ol hi', death Moreover while
■mall, moaanring .carcely more laat .leep. ^n hi, roval brethren were .uc
than a foot, exoluaive of the The majority of lhe.e are built ' ceed.-d each by hia elde.t .on, it
of crude brick, baked in the .un, i.expreiMily .taled that ho wa.
and are far more recent work. Kucceeded by hi.t .econd .on —
than the viant. at (}izeh Iti. while the "death of the lirat-
thongha carnirorou. animal, do- ^ .uppoaed that .ome of theao may born" i» altogether ignored,
light, to feed
upon rariou.
fruit., p.pecially
preferring the
date. It i. alw>
said that it can
climb the
trunk o f t h o
date palm and
procure for it-
•elf the coveted
luxury.
This creature
prose II ta a
strange medley
uf characteris-
tics that have
been a stumtt-
linir block t o
.yatcmatic zoo-
logist., and it
ha. been fre-
uuently trauH-
terred by them
from one por-
tion of the ani-
mal kingdom to
another. Now,
however, it i.
admitted that
the fennec be-
long, to the
genu. VtUptit, being a congener
with the various foze. of the Old
and New World..
Like veritable foxes, the fen-
nec ia accustomed to dwell in
subterranean abodes, which it
scoops in the light undy soil oi
ita native land. Ita fur i. of con-
siderable value among the na-
tives of the locality wherein it is
lound; it ia said to be Ihe warm-
est found in Africa, and is highly
prised for that quality.
The fennec is a quaint little
creature, wearing an air of pre-
cocious self-reliance that has
quite a ludicrous eilect in so
small an animal. The color of its
eye. is a beautiful blue ; and the
whisker hairs which decorate its
face are long and thick in their
texture and white in color. The
fennec is identical with the fox-
like animal named "zerda" by
Ruppell and "cerdo" by Illigcr.
the fmallor animal is the Jerboa
or jumping mouse. — Ex.
FENNEC. — (yulpes Zaaremit.)
iH9
have been among the labors of
the Israelites to which Josephus
alluded when, speaking of the
Egyptian tusk-masters, he says,
" They put them to the draining
of rivers into channels, walling
of towns, casting up of dykes and
banks u> keep off inundations;
nay, the erecting of fanatical
pyramids. ' Scientific men are
able in these old bricks to distin-
guish barley from wheat straw,
or beau haulm from stumble.
One ]>yramid at Dashour has been
especially noted, its bricks being
made almost without straw, just
the merest indications thereof, as
though made in time of some
great scarcity — like t hat when the
Israelite, gathered atubble instead
of straw. An old wall of pre-
cisely similar bricks was found
at Heliopolis, five mile, below
Cairo— each brick bearing the
Cnrtouche or royal mark of
Thothme III., who is generally
supposed to be the Pharaoh of the
AN IDOL TRIED AND FOUND
WANTING
Mr Uoper, the noble African mis-
sionary, when he was at Ibbadan
used often to tallt to a clever hea-
then woman who was a merchant
there, and try and persuade her
to give up hei faUe ifoAn and to
believe in Jesus ; and he told her
that Uod was her Father, and
knew all that loncerned her. The
woman listened and half believed
but she was friirhtened that if she
became a follower of the true
God, her god would be angry
with her. Not that she was al-
together pleased with her own
god, for sometimes she knelt
down before his image, which
was made of matting and wood,
and drewed up with rags of cali-
co wound round it, and asked
him to .end her good luck niid
prosperity, and yet sometimes the
luck all went against her and th^
bargains turned out bad ones,
then .he would irn home in s rage
and seiild Ihe image, hikI some-
tiiui's even would take a harolKio
stii'k and give it a gcKxl beating.
One day, when she had heard
Mr. Koper preach, she went home
and she look this image into a
back room which was empty, and
placed it in Ihe middle o( Ihe
floor, and said, " Now I've brought
you here, and I am going away
trading for three month., and I
will lock the door and yon will
Ite .ale; hut thi. prayer-roan says
yon are not a true god, and can-
not take care of me, and that hia
God can, so I will make this bar-
gain with you — if you are worth
anything you can take care of
yonraell. Now, if yon are all
right when 1 come back, I and
my family will always worabip
yon a. of old ; but if a rat get. to
you and eats you I will pray to
you no more — for I .hall know
what the pray-
er-man Mya is
true." So she
locked the door,
and went away
with Ihe key in
her pocket.
Three months
paMed, and she
returned to
Ibbadan ; h e r
friends and chil-
dren were wait-
ing to welcome
her, bu t she
pushed through
them, and went
straight to the
room where she
had left her
god. Hhe look-
ed at it, and
ran away with
it to Mr. Roper.
She threw the
gnawed thing
down before
him, and ex-
claimed, "He
could not take
care of himself.
Your Ood ha.
sent a rat ; teach me and my chil-
dren to be prayer people I"
It 18 not by books alone nor by
books chiefly, that a man is in all
his points a man. Study to do
faithfully whatsoever things in
your actual situation, then and
now, you find expressly or tacitly
laid down to your charge. That
is your post; stand in it like a
true soldier. Silently devour the
many chagrins of it — all situations
have many — and see yon aim not
to quit it without doing all that
is your duty. — Carlyle.
Many seem to think that tu be
a believer is to have certain feel-
ings and experiences, forgetting
all the time that these are but
the floweis, and that the fruit ^
must follow. — M'Cheynt, ^
^
15KPRINTKI) STORIES. FHOM TMK "NORTHERN MRKSENOER.'
C'HINRHK CHILDRKN.
■T MRH. KVMA I>. HMITIt. OF
PAWO-ClllUNtl, HIUNTI'Nd,
NOHTII «lll>.».
Do yon eror woiiiIit wb*t n
Ohinosti <Uy-«cbool la likw t Hti|>-
poitnff we Hkip (>vt*r to tho went
«nd of tbia rillaffu, ami taku a
p«ep at th« bujra achool, Tbt*
village lenda ua ita achoulbuua«t,
and we miiaionaiitta I'urniih a
Kood Chriatiau teacher, and they
itndy Chriatuu) hooka for part uf
the time.
Aa we gonp the front atepa,
what ia all thia fearful rocket/
Do yon feel a little delicate abont
Xoing in leat you ahonld intrude
on a quarrel of aome aort f U,
but yon needn't .' The little boyi
in onr achool are not tearing each
other'a hair, nor acratchtiig each
other'a oyea out, nor knocking
each other down ; not it hit uf ii '
They arejuat Aomif whiit overy
i^ood httlo Rcholar in China is ex-
pected to do ; that i«, uvory
mother's son uf them ia stiidyinir
hia luaaon over out loud. By out
loud I mean in a piTlcft roar.
As thi>y do thiM m-iirly all day
long, affood many of tbi>m quite
rnin their voices. When you hear
them trying to sing together it ro>
minds yon of that other little frog-
class which singse very evening ont
on the village ranni, the last thing
before |M)pping in for the night.
You think little Hcholara who
have to work like that must l)e sorry
when they hear the nine-o'^jlock
bell and laugh when it creeps
around to tour in the afternoon <
But there you've made another
bi^ mistake. (), lively American
chicks, who wrigfiiie and sqninn
in Sunday-school and day-sohool,
and hate being caged np any-
where aa badly aa the wild birds
do, what would you say if you
had to go to Hchool with the iirHt
streak of daylight, and if school
kept till dark! If the Chiiiene
scholars ease up life xomewhiit
by not studying hard all the time,
who can blame them V
But if you think onr little long-
queued friends don't know much,
we will set them to reciting, and 1
suspect, you'll be amazed to hear
oven the wee ones reel off chap-
ter after chapter and book after
book. Une Peking scholar recit-
ed the whole of the New Testa-
ment at a single examination !
The Chinese have tine memories,
and are always cultivating them
and proud of them. But the
scholars are often brought up not
to care a iig what it all means, so
their little bruins are only well-
stored lumber-rooms.
It is very hard work to get
" Why !" and " How ?" into a
Chinese school. The boys don't
know why u thing is so, or" how
it is 80, and they don't care and,
what is worse, the native teacher
don't want them to care. Why
should he ? His life is hard
cnongh, ttt best, and the " How V"
and " "Why ?" laddies are a deal
1^
more trouble 'o live with, ind
take care of, as every American
mamma will boar cheerful and
ready leslimoiiy It hnsocitirred
to the writer that to secure the
ideal lioy it would only be ne.
renanry to take a little Interrogn-
tioii point (of course, ynu know I
iiii'uii an American boy , and then
a little Chinese boy just a*. I>iu
and just as old, and roll them all
up in a ball, when presto ! out
would come the loveliest little
fellow that ever wore a cap, ask-
ing just (|Ueati<>ns enough and
never one too many !
At the other end of the village
where we live are the little girl
scholars — bleas their dear little
pinched' up aching toes and their
long shilling braids a<id bright
eyes ! Yon could love th 'in with-
out half trying. A little maiden,
not a thousand miles from here,
had them all at her birthday
" Little Dog. ■ ' LI'ile Banket. "
" Little Fattv ' " Llllle Black
One, " ■■ Little Idiot,' " Little HIave
Ciirf ! Yoii know about the
old lady who exhausted herself to
think of a name for a little boy
she had on her hands, and
wh
culled Iniii Jim I'olk
run." The father and mother of
one little boy here junt railed him
"Dou-hnut, anil let him run
He wanted very much to .-ouie to
school, but it wouldn't be Chinese
for him to teaae his papa and
mamma (juKt hear what • sigh
your mamma gave when she read
UNTIL
SBVKNTY
HKVKN.'
TIM!i8
I
IIY MiRnAIIKT E
" I should have 'o ho
through and through
could believe in Tier
»AItf»tT«H.
changed
before 1
again. '
linally gave it up and "ju«t Thus Mabel, with emphasis.
md let nim " 1 may forgive her in lime, but
I never can res|tectlier as I used
to. Hhe has forfeited iny esteem,
and we are much better apart for
the fulur.i " t^o J^ouise, her dark
eyi's lit with a gleam of resent-
ment.
One who remembered that the
Master said, " Blessed are the
NO he sent |H*aceraakers," had been striving
to jilead his to quiet the quarrel, which, be-
that senlenee
grown-iip friend
.uii.He with his parents, and he ginning with » misunderstanding
was allowed to come. Dear little b. tween these two, had been fan-
lellow' Though llie bright eyes ned by one breeie and another
of the other boys can't see it, a '' '
dark, threiilening cloud hangs
over \m head, and we look at him
■■
l- , ' i:a »r' . • 1-
1
"11
-«^.
^^-
1
i^-^^jih.^'' ■"
^.
^ ^ f*^"
j^^'-^^^^s
^^
)Bfi
///-= =
. ■; -•.-. ; _ _
9!^^
--.-•*
^^
=*^^^^^*^
THE V.V-TI.VO (l.VTE. PKKINO
until it had become • steady
llatne ; not likely to din in either
heart. Two lovely girls, favor-
ites with all their uiends, had
gradually drifted apart, and it
seemed na though they woald
never be reconciled. And the
end of the lastellortat placating
the disturbed elements was reach-
ed in the sentences quoted above.
Dear Mabel, I wonder if yon
knew what a |irufonnd truth you
stateil when you impulsi I v de-
clared that you would hav to be
changed through and through
before you could fully forgive
one who had offended you. I
wonder whether the numbers of
people who go about nursing
grievances, cherishing animosi-
ties, and refusing to pardon a
wound which has touched their
vanity, realize how unlike Christ
ii precisely this havdness of
heart.
He enjoins npon us the duty of
forgiving the sinner, until we
cease to count the number of
times that forgiveness may be ne-
cessary. He forgives us over and
over again, there being no limit
to our ill-desert, as there is no
limit to hia loving-kindness.
If fully, freely, readily, and
once for all, we can forgive one
who has injured us ; if we can so
humble our pride oa to meet the
with a wistful yearning, for onr j person half-way, or perhaps, to
missionary doctor savs he has a|»«ek the restoration or amity in
latftl disease and willhave only a i 'he Hrst place, we are shuwina
short time lor earthly teaching the fruiU oldiscipleship.
Dear children with sweet Chris- It may easily be that, amonir
tiitii mammas, will you pray lor wy readers, there are those who
poor little Doughnut '. Though ai"" kept away from the Saviour,
his grandmother Ih a Christian, a"«l linger outaide the kingdom.
his inainina doesn't love Jesus atj"*' because they have not learn-
all, and how can she comfort his I «d '» forgive ; because they re-
little heart, going down into the i (^"f '<> learn the full lesson in
deep valley ! Pray that the dear ; Christ's way. "Changed throuL'b
.Shepherd may lead him along so i |"><1 through ! " Yes, the chang<
party a while ago They jilayed
" Drop the handkerchief," just a«
you dc, only they use their belts
and call it "Drop the girdle."
They also played " lilind man's
bnfl," after your fajliion, finding
it rather hard to ritch their little
American hostess, with her free
dancing feci. Then wo all .sat
down on the lloor and i>layed a
game of jack-stones. Think of
their knowing that too Isn't it
droll? Their game is a little dif- . ^ o .
ferent from you r.s. They call it gently that, before he shall have i '* "*?«-''If'»l and vital.
"Bah Bah." Fancy the clever found out that the road is hard and } Beware, too, of the
little witches putting "Sally over steep, he will find hiiuHelf inside j of "trife.
the log," " Sally over the fence," the heavenly told in the Shcp-
" beauN in the pot," " horses in herd's own blessed arms. One
the stable," " ri<ling the ele- thing more. Ask Ood to take all
phant," " setting the table," and these bonny boys and girls of
coming out triumphant on the ours and make them, by and by,
" double lives," having beaten us into teachers, preachers, and
soundly. j Bible-women, who shall do noble
beginuinLi
It it the mtle Ml within th* lot*
Thtt hy and br will oaks mnsie the
BUtC."
— S S. Timet.
And
Fancy
the children's
them calling
names !
children
Men are naturally tempted by
the devil, but an idle man posi
wprk for him. — Missionary //rr- ^ lively tempts the devil. — Spamsn
aid. \ Prnvf.fh.
«(-»«
'HAMMKR-IIRADED HHAKK.
Thn haraner-hMMlnd ihark
iZ.vfiwx* mnlUrnt) it • very r.--
markahle liih, an i hw Irom an.
I'liint liraeii uioited gxnoriil stUtn-
tion. It rMwmblot othf m of (ho
•hark tuaiU in the number ami
poaition «<t(ta Ina, but ia diatin-
iruialitMl f^a thf>m and all othfr
vi>rtebratM animala bjr tli« lateral
•'xpan<ion of Ihu head, «>i|Mcially
of the bonaa and cartijaifn around
ih« eyea, ao that Ibit h-nd rx-
•4«mblt>a a hammer, Iho i',<>a bf.
inK piacad at the projectinff vx-
tremiiica.
Thix Hihin found hi the Medi-
terrannan 8«a, und aometimfi
atra^i aa far aa tho northern coaat
of Europe, It ia about aeren or
eiflfht feet long, but ■peci-
mena hare been found elevon
and twelrn feet in lenifth. It*
body ia oorered with a granu-
lated altin, the upper aido beini;
of a grayiih brown, and the
under aido a ffrayiah w hiti> ;
the large eyea are golden
yellow. The teeth are long,
■harp, almoat triangular,
and aerrated on tho edge*.
Ther aearch for prey
arauna ahipa, Uersr er ku y» :
"They are large, bidroux.ter-
rible animala, and deatroy
men whoaroawimming. »nd
itia conaidered a aignoi ill-
luck to iee (hem."
Oil ia procured from the
liver, but tho ileah is not
good, being hard and ill-
flavored. — From Hrehm't
Aitimat Life.
RKI'KI.NTKI) STJUMKS. KHOM TIIK 'NUiTIIKKN MKS>I-.N(;KB/-
CH9
*«inl. Hill the greateat diiy ol
the yeiir, (he femival ;«ir firrl-
Iritre „(• the twopL-, tli.' re»tl-
val into which la compreM<d
(he enaeiii-e of (he fun and enjoy-
meiil Hlid hiippiiii-mi of all (he
other dnvipiii logelhar, ix the fen.
tival of l)ie New Year We mnv
be fiiniiliar with the ceiebradoii
ol thi< day in I'lsriii or New I'ork,
but proceeilingR there are (aine
and Iitelena when rompnred with
the k|>oiitHneoui otilhurnt of re-
joit'iiig V. hl<'h (haraclvnxea New-
Year'* Day III Japan.
Preparationa for It hare to be
made weeki Iteforehmid, hoth
public and private. The father
ol'n family haa (o «eler( ai.d ]iiir-
chaae the preneiitH whi<'h it will
bo )lr rttiMrur lor ftim to make,
not only to hia own runiily and
hia intimate fr ends, but lo every
one with <Thom he hna been
brongli to the aiighteat bn«i-
of men, and women, and rhildren.
each 011)1 of whom hiia bin or her
neweat gHrmo-it^ on, an<l all o|
whom lire bent n|Min the one
erraii'l of paying vmita. The old
" firHt-rootiiig" rniiloin of the
' north roun tree" find* i(a replica
in thia fair land, fineen (houiinnd
mileaaway. To he(he iimt viiitnr
la conaidereil nn nnMpn'ion* aa to
be late in conmdered the rereme
And it m atrange to obaerve the
orthodoi manner of paying a
visit The olijiTt of tho vinit —
generally the inaiterof the houae.
aa hit family are abroad ditcharg-
ing their •(K'ial dutiea — la iea(ed
irravely on the mnta at tho back
of the room which opeiiH on the
Kireei; a triiy with wine and
Hweeta on one hand, and the in-
evitable charcoal bracier on the
other. To him a vinitor comea,
carefully ahaking oil' hia c loirs o'
(he door ; he proa(rates buiuelt
.11 iiiiiiiliar converaatt"]-.
fore taking hia leave tho vi*
aitor ilrona, ns It were by ao i-
dent, hia Ni>w Ycar'a gi!t, nea.i
tied up in pa|»'r by gold (hreoo,
and \\\\\\ a ren.wal of gutturala
anil proatratioii* back* hiraaelf
out, and prcKeeda to hia neit
honae of cull. This iroeion in all
dircctidiiM throtiglioiii the morn-
ing during which time the num-
ber of pipea ainokeil — each pipe,
It should lie home in mind, con-
sisting but of a couple of whilfa—
and cups of wine drank by the vi-
aitors la aiiniily incalculable.—
Ex
NBW-YBARS DAY
JAPAN
IN
Th« Japaneae have more
than twenty fanciful iiamea
by which (hey designate
their beantiful country, but
the tobriquel which to a
foreigner aeema the moat
fitting ia certainly the Land
of Holiday!. No excuse is
too trivial for a Japanese to
make holidaya, and when Lu doea
not make them himself, (he gov-
ernment politelv steps in and
makca them for tiim. Thus, one
day in every aiz, called i''<^i' roku,
is t. atatute holiday ; so is the
third day in every moon, whil.st
the liat of national fesli*. ds com-
memorativo of great mou or of
grekt deeda ia simply inexhausti-
bla. If a great man dies in Eng-
land, they commemorate him by
■\ monument in Westminster
Abbey; if* great man dies in Ja-
pan, he is remembered by a holi-
•lay ; so that what with the my-
thical great men who are thus
remembered, and the historical
great men who have died during
the paat five thousand years, it is
■\ little diffionlt to find a day oi
the Japanese year which hits not
the name of a celebrity atiached
to it ; just as, in glancing down a
Roman Oatholio calendar, wo find ^
that every day haa its particular '
BA.MMER-HEADED SHARK.
nesa contact dnrintr the paat,
vear; the mother innst see thatj
her children'tt new dresses are
ready. an<l that the domestic,
arrangements lur the great fes-
tival are in order; the daiuselsi
must decide in what fashion the
ofti, or muih. ib to be worn, ori
whether beetles c>r buttertlies are
to be en r'gel ior hair-piiis ; thej
eervants are already cleaning and
sweeping out the house, so that '
it may present a sjiolless face to the i
new year; the tradesman ascer-
tains that his hooks are duly bal-
anci'il, so '.hat he may start afresh
Willi a clean bill of health; and
so on, through all grades and
classes of society.
Early in the morning — that ia
to say, early for the Japanese,
who by no means harmonize in
their ideas, with the name given
by them to their country, the
Land of the Rising Sun — the
streets are thronged by a crowd
upon the extreme edge o< the
matting, his forehead touching the
mats, and his hand placed under
his shoulder. Delivering himself
of a few guttural aounds, he
moves forward a few inches, and
indnlges in another prosiration,
and so on until he ia within a
couple of feet or so of tho reci-
pient of his )>olitene8s. The latter
then addresses him in a language
of compliment and sell'ubase-
mciit which is fcimply untrans-
latable, but tho drift of which
is that he is utterly un-
worthy to be the object of «iich
attention from such an honorable
lord, and that in all humility he
begs that ho will accept a cup of
wine. Tho still prostrate visitor
declares himself to be so utterly be-
neath contempt aa not to think of
taking such a liberty ; but he in-
variably does so, as a real refusal
would give offence, and in
a few aaoouds the pair are cn-
A BIBLE HAKKI) IN A LOAF
OF BKKAD.
There is u Bible in Lncaa, in the
State of Ohio, which was pre-
Nerved by being baked in a loal
uf bread. It now belong* to a
Mr. Schebolt, who is a na-
tive of Bchemia, in Austria.
Thia baked Bible wa« for'
merly the proj/orty of hia
grandmother who waa a
faithful Protestant Christian.
I>uring one oi the season*
when t!ie Roman Catholica
were persecuting the I'ro-
tesliintsin that country, n law
waa paaaed thp' every Bible
in the hrr.ns of the > "ople
should be given up to tho
priests, Ihut it might be
burnt. Then those wlio
uved their Bible had to
conlrivi' diff'ercnt ways in
order to try and save the
precious Book.
When the priests came
around (o search the houae,
ithapp«>ned to be bakinir-
day. Mr*. Schebolt, tho
grandmother of the preaent
owner of this Bible, had a
larire family. She had just
prepared a great batch of
dough, when she heard that
the priests were coming.
She took her precious Bible,
wrapped it carefully up,
and put it in the centre of a
huge mass of dough, which waa
to fill her largeat bread tin, and
stowed it away in the oven and
baked it. Tho priests came and
searched the house carefully
through, but they did not find
the Bible. When the search
waa over and tho danger
Massed, tho Bible was taken out
and found uninjured. That Bi-
ble is more than a hundred and
fifty vears old ; yet it is still the
bread of life, as fresh and sw eet
and good aa over. — Rev. D. Nimh,
in Zion'i Herald.
Be Ai,way.'< pleased nt what
thou art, if thou desire to attain
to what thou art not ; for where
thou hast pleased thyself; thcrci
thou abidest.— Qwnr/M.
Cans't thou wait '. 'i Hen t\-ff
success is secured ; for pationce is t
success.— /i;o'i P.-.ni' . i
Wb^'
»
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE « NORTHERN MESSENGER."
I i
HOW BENNY SENT NOTES
TO HIS MAMMA.
This w;^ too discouraging, and
she began to cry
-. ^ , . r\i. i I "Oh, dear! I wish mamma
Out in a part of he country I ^„ y^ . ^^jj ^ i„„king
wher'" It IS very hiUy, there stands y^MrMy doxvu at the top of the
a red house at the foot of a steep ^ome chimney below.
hill whose side is covered with '
birch and pine trees, and a thick " Mamma ! mamma !" he shout-
undergrowth of brush. In that ed then as loud as he could ; but
honselive two children, and wbnt the wind blew the wrong way
do yon think they did one day ? snd took the shout up hill in-
Their mamma was busy bak- stead of down. Then he said he
ing, and they went to play by the would go home and tell her to
little brook in the yard. They come.
were making a bridge of stones " Oh, no, no !" begged Susie. " I
there and that morning they don't dare to be lell alone ; there
finished it. Then Susie's white might be bears among the trees,
kitten tried it, and stepped across or a siuke. Don't go, Benny !"
without once wetting her
daintv feet.
" Now that's done, and
what'U we do next?' asked
restleaa Susie.
"I know," said Benny ;
" let's go up on the hill and
find where the brook begins.
It's hard climbing.and mother
thinks I ain't big enough ;
but I'm bigger now than I
was the last time I asked her."
" Well, let's, go then," said
Susie, eagerly, and off they
started, hand in hand at firs ',
but they soon found they each
needed two hands to catch
hold of the bushes and pro-
jecting rocks, as they climbed
up the hill close by the little
bed of the brook. Up and
up they went ; it was pretty
tiresome, but there was tun in
it, for the white kitten ran
nimbly ahead and kept stop-
ping far them, and the brook
seemed to laugh out loud as
it danced merrily to meet
thenw
" Haven't we gone as much
as a mile ?" asked Susie at
last, winding hci' arm around
a young birch tree, while she
stopped to take breath.
" No, not more than three-
quarters, I guess," said Benny.
" See, there's our chimney
down there and smoke going
out. Mother's making pies "
" Oh, then let's hurry !"
Susie exclaimed starting
again and as she pnshed
around a thick briery bush
there was the white kitten
waiting for them just ahead,
and there at last was the bub-
bling spring, gushing from
among the rocks, the birth-
place of their dear brook.
" Oh, Susie, make a cup of your
hand and drink some water," said
Benny, bending down to do it
himself.
"I can't! I can't! I am caught
in the briers I" cried Susie, strug-
gling as she spoke to disengage
herself, but it seemed as if every
thorn on the bushes reached out
to catch her and she couldn't get
away.
Benny ran to help her, but only
got his hands scratched, and when
Susie turned her head the briers
caught her curls so that she
could not move away any more
without her hair being pulled
" Let's send a note to mimma
by kitty ! " he exclaimed, " I've
got some paper in my pocket and
a little stub end of • pencil and I
can print !"
Susie stopped crying and
watched with interest while Ben
slowly printed down these words
on a torn sjip of paper : —
" Deer MaMa We aiR up here
Tanglid in a BRiKe Bush. Cum !"
Then he found a piece of string
in his pocket and tied the note
around the white kitten's neck.
When that was done, he turned
her head down the hill toward
home and clapping his hands at
^H9
the little tumbling stream, which
carried it swiftly out of sight.
" Now she'll come pretty soon,"
he said, sitting down in perfect
faith to wait.
Their mamma baked her bread
that morning and then the baked
pies and mado cookies and got her
dinner over before sba had time
to think much about them. Then
the stepped to the door to see
how they were getting along and
called them, but there was no
answer.
The wind blew in her face and
the white kitten rubbed against
her feet. %
■^Where are the children, kitty?"
she asked, looking down and
then she spied the note tied
around the white furry neck.
She took it ofi and read the
blurred words: —
" DeeR MaMa We aiR up
here, Tanglid in a BRiRe
Bush. Gum!'
She caught he; son-bonnet
off the nail and started, bat
hardly knew which way to
go. They were up the hill,
of coarse, but she might miss
them. As she stood irreso-
lute, right in sight down the
brook came the little birch-
bark raft, with a piece of pa-
per pinned to it which was
too wet to read, but it told her
all she wanted to know, for
now it was plain that they
had gone along by the brook.
So she started swiftly to
the hill, pushing the bushes
aside, with the little white
kitten running before her,
and as it was not nearly a
mile, nor even a quarter, that
the little ones Lad gone, she
soon reached the spot where
Susie stood weeping in the
grasp of the brier bush and
Ben sat patiently waiting at
her side.
Was there ever a tangle
that a mamma would not set
right ? Gently and skilfnlly
she freed first the curls and
then the little dress, and then
with her light-hearted girl
and boy followed the stream
back ag^in, just in time to
meet papa as he came to din-
ner. — Youth's Companion.
DRAWIiNO LESSON.
OvUlil* Dr»wtng br HattIud Weir, u k dmrtu lauon (or th« roan*
"Well, I won't," said Benny;
■'but I wish I had some scissors or
a knife, anyhow; I'm big enough."
Then he sat down by Susie and
they wondered what they should
do ; would they have to go with-
out dinner and supper ? Would
they have to stay all night there
on the hill ?
" O, I am so tired !" said Susie
moving her head a little, but it
hurt so that she began to cry
again. The little white kitten
rubbed a;^ainst her and purred,
but it could not help her. Yes,
it could help her ! A bright idea
Hashed into Benny's mind.
her said in dreadful tones : —
" Scat I Scat I"
The frightened kitten darted
down the hill and was quickly
out of sight among the bushes.
" Now mamma'll come !" said
Susie, with a sigh of relief But
Benny had thought of something
else.
" I'm going to send a letter in a
boat now," he said, and again he
slowly printed on another ragged
slip : —
" DeeR MaMa We aiR up heRe
TangILD in a BRiRe. Cum. "
This he fastened to a piece of
birch bark, and launched it down
A GOOD WORD FOR THE
ENGLISH SPARROW.
Yet withal the poor spar-
row has many good qualities
of which it becomes tu to speak.
Has a family of little birds been
taken from their warm nest and
put in a cage outside the wiUv' iw?
The sparrow will be the first to
come and feed them. They may
not be of his own race; it is enough
that they are opening their
mouths for food, and he will do
his best to supply them. There
have been many instances in
which sparrows have done a deed
of kindness like this, and have
fed the needy ones day after day
till they were able to provide for i
themselves. — Little Unity. '
•H^
^SHt
i
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
97
BLACKBOARD TEMPERANCE
LESSON.
BY MBd. W. F. 0IUrT8.
Boys and girls hare seen all
kinds of signs— large and small
ones, funny ones and handsome
ones, wooden ones, tin ones, paper
ones, cloth ones, netted ones,
moving ones ; signs of all colors —
red, blue, green yellow, white,
black. Many interesting things
are to be learned from signs. TSat
in all that have ever attracted my
attention the one which pleased me
more than all others is the one of
which I have given youapicture.
I found it in a drug-store one
day wSen I had a long time to
wait, and had nothing to do but
to read the names on the bottles
and the signs hung about the
store.
I did not ask who had printed
the sign, but I made up my mind
that it must have been done by Mr.
Solomon Wiseman.
" How many cigarettes can you
buy for ten cents, boys ? "
" Twelve." Well, I will make
a picture of them and leave you
to jadgo whether you can get the
worth of your money.
p 1 s N 5 T^e &L ot) o ' t ')
^INJURES THE VOICED"
rHA<Es CANceR5 iNTHeMOimt?)
1 HAKES BREATH BAD '^(^
' PREVENTS STUDY _
MAKE.S SORESNON'FACr
" TAKES AWv^ SLEEP '""^
MAKES TREMSUMfl. MASS3S
r deStorys good manners °D
' MAK ES OTHEaSTtlHCQMFCmtABlEl j
. Qtver-fASTC F4)R STROHC OfitNKfj
" - £ TO PS ^QWti.^~%H^
must be done, and right away, to
break up cigarette-smoking. The
girlamnst hoip, too, for there are
girls who smoke cigar-
ettes! This little sum
lyill show yon how fast
boys and girls, and men
too, are learning to use
cigarettes:
"In one year 14,000,-
000 were smoked. In
the next year 408,000,000
were smoked.
Not all of the druggists will
put up (he sigii"Jio cigarettes
sold to boys." Neither will all
btreet-?ar conductors do as one I
heard about. Two very small
boys smoking cigarettes stopped
the car one day and got on. They
each offered the conductor half
fare. •' No," said he, " if you are
largo enough to smoke cigarettes
you've got to pay full fare." And
so they did.
" Well," I hear a boy say, " if
cigarettes are such bad things, I
will save my money and buy
cigars." But cigars are danger-
ous, too. Senator Cai ^nter was
in the habit of smoking twenty
cigars a day, and it killed him.
Senator Hill died only a short
time ago with a cancer in his
tongue that was brought on by
always having a cigar in his
mouth. Mr. Delmonico, a well-
known restaurateur in New York,
died within two years from smok-
ing. Hundreds, yes, thousands,
of similar cases might be men-
tioned. — Youth's Tem-
perance Banner.
THE TIME FOR RE-
VENGE.
An Eastern story
tells of the haughty
These things are not p- ° 'ted
on cigarettes as they are ii. my
picture. Would that they vere!
for then I think boys would be
afra^ to buy thorn. But they
are badly mixed, in a small
quantity, in each cigarette.
A boy who has never seen a
favorite of an Oriental
monarch, who, as he
was passing, threw a
stone at a poor der-
vish or priest. The der-
vish did net dare to
throw it bac. at the
man who had thus in-
sulted him,for he knewthe favorite
wa» very powerful. So he picked
up the stone, and put it carefully
in his pocket, saying to himself,
"the time for revenge will by-
and-by come, and then I will re-
pay him for it."
Not long afterward, this same
cigarette made, probably does j dervish, in walking through the
not know how so much harm can
be rolled up in a little piece of
paper, bo he must be told about
it Some cigarettes are made of
the stub-ends of cigars which
have been smoked by men whose
mouths arc filthy and diseased.
Others have in them a poison called
opium. The best ol them are made
from miserable tobacco, not fit to be
put in cigars. The paper covering
of the cigarette looks harmless,
bat it has mixed with it one
of the worst of poisons, called
" white lead." It is this which
makes sores on the face and lips,
and apoiU the tkseth.
Now, boys and girls, something
away, saying, "The time for
revenge never comes! For if
our enemy is powerful, revenge
is dangerous as well as loolish ;
and H he is weak and wretched,
then revenge is worse than loolish,
,it is mean and crnel. And in all
cases it is forbidden and wicked."
A better rule still is given by
the Apostle in his letter to the
llomaas ; " Dearly beloved, avenge
not yourselves, but rather give
place unto wrath , for it is written,
vengeance is mine ; I will repay,
saith the Lord. Therefore if
thine enemy hunger, feed him;
if he thirst, givo him drink; for in
so doing thou shalt heap coals of
fire on his head. Be not over-
come with evil ; but overcome
evil with good," — Child's Paper.
city, baw a great crowd coming
toward him. He hastened to see
what was the matter, and found
to his astonishment, that his
enemy, the favorite, who had
fallen into disgrace with the king,
was being paraded through the
principal streets, on a camel, ex-
posed to the jests and insults of
the populace.
The dervish seeing all this,
hastily grasped at the stone which
he still carried in his pocket, say-
ing to himself, " the time for my
revenge has now come, and I will
vepay him for his insulting con
duct?" But after considering
for a moment, he threw the stone
A
WISE MOTHER.
I owe much to my mother's
early instruction in truth and
honesty. Lying, stealing, and
drunkenness were crimes of
which she impressed me with the
utmost horror and disgust.
A poor boy, engaged in carry-
ing a gentleman's letter-bag in
our neighborhood, stole a
with some money in it. I re-
member listening to the conver-
sation of my father and mother
on this subject ; the grief and dis-
grace they painted in their des-
cription of the theft made a great
impression on me.
I well remember, also, a cir-
cumstance which was of the
greatest importance to me, and
ever inspired me with gratitude
to my mother. One day I entered
our home eating a cake ; my
mother's quick eye fell upon it —
she observed, too, that I made
some attempt at concealment — so
she questioned me :
Who gave you that?" I
answered, "The woman in the
street whr sells cakes."
She went into the corner of the
room, where a rod was kept, then
took me by the hand and led me
to the woman.'
" Did you give this little boy a
cake?"
"No."
Whereupon the rod was vigor-
ously applied in the presence of
the people in the street who were
looking on. My distress was
great.
At evening prayers my father,
who had Deen tntormed of my
disgrace, dwelt in a solemn
manner on the sin I h<id com-
mitted — the great crime of th eft
and lies That was my first theft,
and mv last,— Li/e of John Gibson,
R.A. '
r
LET ME GO!"
Our old chief, Hnaisline Mar6,
who up to thirty years of age was
a savage and a cannibal is dead.
He died June 17th, l-'Sl, very
happily, after a painful illness of
eight weeks. He continually ex«
horted his people, as they came
around his dying bed, to cleave to
the Word of Ood, and to help in
every way they could both their
missionary and their native pas*
tors. Bula, the chief of Lifu, came
to visit him. He ca' led him and
his son together, being two young
men, and said, " Don't let tha
world deceive you, neither set
your hearts upon wealth : cleave
to the Word of Ood : that alone
can establish you in your chief-
tainship." As' he lay upon his
.g ... bed, he was seen to be cnntinnally
letter ' engaged m prayer. When prayer
was being ofi'ered for him that he
might recover, he said, " Why do
you, the Lord's people, try to draw
me back to earth ? The Lord is
drawing me up to Himself, and
yon are holding me back with
your prayers, just like a rope
drawn at both ends. Oh, let me
go, that I may be at rest ! " He said
to his son, " I am going to leave
you to fill my place; the Lord
Jesus has come to call me" —
Rev. Jjhn Jones, Mare Is'and,
South Seas.
A Useful Gander. — In a
little village in Germany a gander
used to lead a blind old woman to
church every Sunday, dragging
her along and holding her gown
in its beak. As soon as she was
seated in her pew the old fellow
walked into the church-yard,
where he stayed until the service
wa3 over : then he appeared at
the door, ready to lead Ms mistress
home. One day a friend called on
the old lady, and was surprised to
find that she had gone out. " Oh,"
said her little grandchild, " there
is nothing to fear; the cauder
will take sue %i hu "
'i*-
m^
J
y '98
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE'" NORTHERN MES8EWGEB."
8I7CKBBS, AND SOME WHO
USE THEM.
"A fine warm sammer'a day
How jolly it would be to have a
dip in the sea, or in a running
stream! Well, a pond is better
than nothing, especially if it is a
good large one and the water
tolerably clear. Off we go !"
Off they went, the master
going with them, and giving them
a word or two of caution oy the
way. Ue had read lately of a
strange and fatal accident which
had oocured to a man when bath-
ing in a pond ; it was a small
pond too, and he was an expert
swimmer. He had been exhibit-
ing hii skill in diring to some
boys who stood on the bank, and
had remained under water a long
time, longer than they would have
thouffht it possible for any one
to hold his breath. But at last he
remained down so very long that
the boys began to wonder when
he meant to come up again. A
gentleman passing near the spot
asked the boys what they were
looking at, and they told him.
" How long has he been under
water ''" he asked.
" About half an hour," was the
answer.
" Half an hour '"
"Well, a quarter of an hour, at
least."
"You don't mean that !"
Yes, they did mean it, and the
gentleman lost no time in render-
ing assistance. The diver was
then found with his feet firmly
embedded in the mud or clay at
the bottom of the pond. He was
dead, end all efforts that could be
made to revive him were in vain.
So you see, boys, there are
dangers even in a pond, and for
those who can swim. Be sure of
your ground, especially when it is
hidden from your sight. Look
before you leap, whether on dry
land or in taking a header."
" Well, but I want to know,"
says Duffy, " What made his feet
stick?"
"Why the clay, of course,''
another answers him. " You are
always wanting to know "
"Yes, but how?"
" The same way that your feet
stuck in that lane the other day,
when your shoes came off and
you were very near having to
walk home without them. You
are fond of experiments, Duffy.
That was an experiment which
might have taught you,"
" It taught me not to make
short cuts through muddy lanes,
but it did not teach me why the
clay caught hold of my shoeB and
held them fast. Experiments are
not of much use unless you under-
stand them,"
" What do you want to know,
Duffy ?" said the master,
" I want to know why my shoes
stuck in the clay in Mud Lane the
other day."
" I'll snow you. Have any of
you aver seen a sucker "
"Tes, sir," said a little pale-
faced boy, who smelt of
peppermint ; " I hare got some
Backers in my pocket Will you
have one ?"
He took out a buU's-eTe from
the warm, sticky receptacle which
he had mentioned, and offered it
to the master with a look of
pleasure, and was surprised to
find that all except the master
laughed at him.
"Thank you all the same," said
the latter, " but that's not the sort
of a sucker I want."
A shoemaker's shop was at
hand, and there the master
procured a circular piece of
leather, to the centre of which he
fastened^ a stout string. Having
thing lately aboat gravitation, and
yooknow that the earth attracta
all thing! towardk itself— the air,
aa well as more substantial bodies.
The weight of the atmoaphere is
about fourteen pounds to the
square inch ; this piece of leather
is soft, and fits close to the ston« ;
it is wet, and that prevents the air
from getting under it. Now,
what is it that holds the leather
down to the stone ?"
" The air passing downwards
upon it."
" Right. Now lift the sucker :
the stone comes with it. What is
it that holds the stone up to the
leather.
" The air beneath it pressing
upwards."
A YOUNG MASTKE.
soaked the leather in water to
make it soft, he pressed it with
his Teet upon a flat stone ; the
leather ctnck to the stone, and by
pulling the string ne lifted the
stone, which was large and heavy,
from the ground.
" I have often done that," said
one of the boys. " It's only a
sucker ; that's all,"
" Yes," said the master, " and
that poor man's feet were only
suckers, and Duffy's shoes were
only suckers. The clay did not
hold them— they held the clay •
just as this piece of leather holds
the stone."
■■ But how is it ? ' said Duffy,
" That's what I want to know "
" And that is what I am going to
tell yon. You have heard some-
" Right again ! And what was
it that held theshoes to the groimd
in Mud Lane?"
" The air of course ; I see it
now"
" Yes ; and if your feet had
been as close to the leather inside
your shoes as the leather was to
the clay, so that no air could have
got between, you would have
been fixed to the shoes, as your
shoes were to the lane."
"That would have been awk-
ward. But how did that poor
man's feet stick to the bottom of
the pond ? There was no air
down there,"
" No ; but the air pressed npon
the water, and the water upon
his feet ; so it came to the same
thing. Unfortunately, he had no
shoes on, BO he could not disengage
himself as yon did."
" And is it the air that makes
thingB Btiok together generallf ?' '
"Oertainlr not I must tell
yon about tLat another time. It
IB hardly correct to say in thia
case that the leather ' stioks' to the
stone. It ia preased againat it,
just as I preia a sheet of paper to
the table by laying the weight of
my hand upon it. When I hit my
hand the paper is free ; so if the
air were lifted from the sucker,
aa it might be by placing it luder
the receiver of an air-pump, the
stone would be released. There
is no stickiness in cither case,
nothing but pressure.
" Observe now, when I bef^n tc
lift the sucker, the leather rises a
little in the centre ; that makes a
vacuum between the leather and
the stone. The more I pull the
greater the vacuum becomes ; and
when the resistance of the vacuum
equals the weight of the stone,
the stone is lifted."
" Then there is no suckinc after
all, though it is called a sucker?"
" I don't know that you could
have a better name for it. Some
people say that there is no snch
thing as suction. But the effect is
visible in a thousand different
ways, and it is produced by
drawing away the air from the
substance acted upon. Flies walk
upon the window pane, or on the
ceiling, by the help of suckers in
their feet. The suckers are very
numerous, and are opened and
closed in succession with such
rapidity that the fly seems to glide
alonff, yet it never quits its hold,
but keeps some of the suckers
closed while the others open. If
you were to apply a powerful
microscope to the opposite side of
the glass, where the fly's feet are
presented to view, you would be
able to observe the process.
" There is a species of liiard,
weighing four or five pounds,
which runs up and down the
smooth walls of the house by the
same process.
" You have seen pictures of the
walrus, I dare say. It is a kind
of seal, but grows sometimes to
the size of a large ox. It clambers
about over the icebergs in the
Northern regions, going up and
down the steepest slopes or 'slides'
without slipping How do you
think it is enabled to do that ?"
" It has sharp nails in ita feet, I
suppose,"
" ShMp nails ? Snch as the
blacksmith puts into a horse's
shoes in frosty weather ? Is that
whatyou mean ?"
" Well done, Duffy! Or perhaps
they wear spikes, as we do, for
cricketing, I wonder where they
get them ?"
It was a schoolfellow who said
this.
" I did not mean that sort of
nails ; I meant claws, of course,'
Duffy answered.
" What do you say to suckers ?
The feet of walrus are so formed
that they can exclude the air from
up and
u the
horse's
la that
REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
under them, and thna form a
vacaom. The tmoothneM of the
ioe becomes a help to them in this
way ; and they can cling to it as
• fly does to glass "
" I wish 1 coold see them do
H."
" Yon can see the same thing
every day — a creature climbing
up a wall and carrying his house
with him "
" Yon mean a snail."
" Yes; the snail makes aTacuum
in his shell, and then the air
presses him to the wall up which
ne crawls. Take hold of a snail
auddenly, and you will find him
«asy to remove ; but give him
time to fix himself and he will stick
tight and tome off at last with a
little squeak, caused by the air
rushing into the vacuum he had
made.
" Limpets fix themselves in like
manner to the rocks under water ;
and there are a great number of
fishes which do the same.
" There is one in particular,
called a sucking fish, which
carries its sucker upon its head,
as a boy does his cap ; only it is
a fixture in the fish's case. The
sucker is a disc with a broad
flexible edge to it, not unlike the
leather sucker we have been
experimenting with. The fish
fastens itself by the crown of its
bead to any object, such as a ship's
bottom,orto anotherand larger fish
a — whaleor a shark — so firmly that
it is almost impossible to remove
it. It will be torn tc pieces rather
than relax its hold. On the shores
«f the Mozambique it is said that
these fish are made use of to catch
turtle A line is fastened by a
ring round the sucking-fish, near
its tail , and it is then carried out
in a boat and dropped into the
aea near a sleeping turtle ; it
fastens itself by its head
to the turtle and sticks to
it tightly while the boat-
men haul them both in together.
" Yon have all heard of the
cctopus? It has eight arms or legs,
which are six times as long as its
body; and each ol these is furnish-
ed with 120 pairs of suckers.
Some of these creatures are of
great size; and it is said that
boatt have been seized and
dragged under water by them ;
but you need not believe that un-
less you like
" It is also said that a sucking-
fish of some sort fastened itself to
the prsBtorian ship of Antony at
the battle of Actinm and stopped
it, 80 that it lost the battle , but
you need not believe that either
unless you like, although it is
Pliny who tells the story.
" The fishermen on the coast of
Normandy assert that men havo
been drowned bj octopu8es,which
is much more intelligible ; as by
attaching their long arms to a
swimmer they might impede his
movements and prevent him from
keepiag himself above water."
" If you try to drink out of a
bottle, yon must let the air enter
or yon will not succeed. You
may make a vacuum by suction,
but that will not bring the
contents into yonr month
" And now what is it that causes
all these efiects of suction, as we
call it ? What is the real agent
that enables a fly to creep upon
the ceiling, or a sncking-fish to
fasten itself to a ship, or a limpet
to cling t« a rock, or a baby to
drink out of a bottle, or a calf to
draw milk from ite mother's
teats?"
" The presureofthe air."
" And what causes the pressure
of the air?"
" The attraction of the earth."
" Yes ; gravitation is the cause
of all these various results. And
that is the force which keeps the
earth and the planets in their
said: -I don't know that I
choose my companions by rule ;
it is just as it happens. I am
thrown with certain people at my
boarding house or in the store ; I
like some young men the moment
I see them ; others repel me. A
man has to do the best he can."
" If you wish toeucceed," repli-
ed his mentor, "you will take
pains to have for friends only the
honorable, the intelligent, and tho
straightforward. It is a mistake
not to have a standard of judg-
ment."
Young people do not under-
stand, when they set gaily forth
on the journey of life, that ♦hey
are to be made or marred by the
company they keep. Far more
than we imagme, we are all mod
(BmmxA, eM»im S$t\Aittt.
" Tftkfl unto yon the whole armor of C}«d."— Km. 8 : 13.
lUv. & BAU]l(MK)t'U>.
Jo«. HiTm, wr.
1. Onmrd, Chriitian aoldien, Uuching u to wmr, With the Ciom ol Jenu
S. Like % mighty u - mjUoTeatheOhonhofOod; Bnthen,weuetiMdiiig
3. Crowiuand thrones iii*ypwiah,KiiigdomiiriaeHidw>iie,ButtbeChimhafJe«iia
4. On - wud, then, >-e people. Join the happy tbiong,Blesd with oon yonr Toice*
P
^
yl Muter Leeda a - gainat the foai
■*-^
Oo - ing on be - fore. Chiiat the Boyd
WherethesaintahsTetiod; Weare not di - Tid-ed, All one bo • dy
Con - atant will remain; Qatea of heU can neT - er 'Gainat that ChoxtjhpreTail;
In the triomph aong; Olory, land, and hon - or, Un ■ to Chiiat the King,
h t : ■ f xrrnwm ^
^
-i — r
^
:5M
C=*:
For - ward in - to bat - tie,
One in hope and dootrine.
We haTe Olmat's own promiae,
Thia thro' oountli
^m
Sea, Hia ban-nen go.
One in obar - i - ^.
And that can • not niL
Men and an ■ gela aing.
^
Onwid, OhiiitiMi
Tfff
aoidienTMarehlngaa to war, WithtbaOiaaaof Je-eoa Gtoing onba-fon,
proper places ; which causes the
tides of the ocean, and all the most
wonderful phenomena of the
universe. Nothing is too great
for it, and nothing too little,
ordered as it is by Him who rules
over all.
" Now, hero we are at the
water side, and gravitation will
help you to take a good header
downwards ; it will also help to
bring you up again to the surface,
in the same way that it makes a
balloon rise through the air. —
Boy'i Ovan Paper.
THE TRUE STANDARD.
"By what rule do you choose
yonr associates?" said a merchant
to his newly engaged clerk. The
young man hesitated. Finally lie
fied by our surrounding atmro-
phere. A boy's father, for instance,
has a low ideal of life. He takes
the mercenary view that material
success is everything, and that it
makes little difference whether
minds and hearts prosper or not.
What can be expected of the boy,
— unless indeed he have a Chris-
tian mother, who can stamp her-
self and her higher aspirations and
convictions upon him ?
In selecting a school or a college
for son or daughter, the question
should always be asked, "What
style of companionship will this
institution assure to its students ?"
The whole tenor of many a life
has been affected by the friend-
ships formed in school-days Of
this, almost any biography
ftamiihes proofs — whether it be
the published life of a conspicuous
man, or the unwritten story of
some one whose days have been
passed in obscurity
The true standard by which
our friends should be measured, —
the touch-stone, — the divining rod,
— should be character. Does this
person live with eyes uplifted to
God ? Is that life consecrated to
the Lord .Tesus ? Other and
accidental things, — as social posi-
tion, education, wealth, and
family,— are to be regarded as
secondary to this primary es-
sential, in those whom Christians
should select as their fellow-
helpers on life's path. — Christian
iHtelligenter.
PRAYER BARRELS.
I first met with prayer barrels
on the borders of Thibet, when,
travelling the narrow paths which
wind along the face of majestic,
precipitous Himalayan crags, wo
met native travellers from still
further north — traders driving
flocks of laden goats, women with
quaint headdresses of lumps of
amber and large,coarse turquoises
fastened on bands of dirty cloth,
and here and there a man holding
in his hand a small bronze or
brass cylinder which he twirled
mechanically all the time he was
Cirneying. It was some time
fore I succeeded in getting
hold of one of these for a closer
examination, as the owners are
nervously afraid to trust their
treasures in the hands of one who,
albeit in ignorance, might
irreverently turn them the wrong
way, and so undo much of the
merit acquired by perpetual
twirliiAfin the opposite direction
For, as we eventually discovered,
not only is the sacred six-syllabled
charm embossed on the metal
cylinder, but the same mystic
words were written over and over
aeain on very lengthy strips of
cloth or papyrus, which are bound
round the spindle on which the
cylinder rotates, and one end
of which forms the handle. It is
therefore necessary to turn this
little barrel of prayers in such a
direction that the characters
forming the holy phrase may pass
in proper order before the person
turning, and as all Oriental books
are read from the right side of
each page to the left, the barrel is
turned in the same direction. For
the same reason the Thibetan
walks in this direction round the
great terraces and other buildings,
on which the holv words are in-
scribed, in order that his eyes may
rest on the words in due course,
which can only be the case when
he Keeps his left hand toward the
object round which he is walking.
— Ute Contemporary Review.
Often by illusions cheated.
Often bafiled and defeated
In the tasks to be completed,
He, by toil and self-denial,
To the highest shall attain.
— LongfeOow.
^i4t|ift4^
J
I
y 1 no
"the
«
BEPFINTED STORIES FROM THE "NORTHERN iMESSENOER.
m
II Med
INTELLIGENT COR-
MORANT.
A common sight in China to-
day is the fisherman with his
board of cormorants, ready to go
over at the owner's word. This
practice was followed in England
in former times, and the master
of cormorants was a prominent
officer of the royal household.
The birds are taken from the
n«st when young and easily
trained, and so rapid are their
movements under water that
rarely a fish escapes them.
When taken out in a boat they
are generally kept hooded by a
wire mask, having also a leather
collar about the neck to prevent
their utilizing the catch for their
own benefit. In China this bird
is one of the daily
sights to be seen
on the canal or in-
land streams, es-
pecially in the
neighborhood o f
Ningpo. Here on
the lake thj boats
congregate, each
propelled by a
single Chinaman,
with three or four
cormorantg, roost-
ing either on the
rail or a platform
made for the pur-
pose. So perfect-
ly are they trained
that they obey the
slightest word of
the master ; and
when ho gives the
order ovor they go,
and with remark-
able speed begin a
search under
water, seizing the
fish, rising to the
surface and bring-
ing the victim to
the owner just ex-
actly like a dog. If
a large fish is cap-
tured, these intelli-
gent birds gj to
e^ch other'c assist-
ance, aiui with a
combined effort
bring it to their
mast er, a f t e r • <t: '
which they are re-
paid by the entrails — to them, in-
satiate gluttons, the choicest parts.
Other noted localities for cormor-
ant fishing are the waters between
the towns ol Hang-chow-foo and
Shanghai ; also on the Min River
near Foo-chow-tno. So import-
ant are these fisheries that many
persons are entrasred in raising
cormorants and training tliera for
the fishermen. One of the larg-
est of these bird schools is situ-
ated, or WIS a lew years ago, and
probably is there yet, about forty
miles from Shanghai, between it
and Chapoo. Concerning the
method of training them the
owner gave the following reply
to the questions asked by Mr.
Medhnrst, interpreter of the
British Consulate at Shanghai:
' The fith-catching birds eat small
fish, yellow eels and pulse JcHy-
At 5 p.m every day each bird will
eat sis tael (eight ounces) of eels
AN
OF
ANCIENT VILLAGE
THE 0N0NDAOA8.
This village was in the present
. _ town of Fenner,some miles north-
er fish and a catty of pulse jelly, east of the Onondaga Valley, New
They lay eggs after three years, York. It was situated upon the
edge of a small lake, and covered
about su acres of land. It was
and in the fourth and fifth month
Hens are used to incubate the
eggs. When about to lay, their
faces turn red, and then a good ' palisades of large timber, 30 feet
hen must be prepared. The date ' high, interlocked the one with
must be clearly written upon the the other, with galleries in the
shells of the eggs laid and they i form of parapets. This village
will hatch in less than twenty- was attacked by Champlain in
five days. When hatched, they 1 1615 with a considerable force of
take the young and put them j French and Indians. And &\-
upon cotton spread upon water, (though the French had fire-arms,
and feed them with eels' blood then for the first time heard by
for five days. After that they can 'the Onondagas, and the help of
be fed upon eels' flesh chopped a tower overlooking the place,
fine, and great care must be they were unable to capture it. —
taken in watching them. When , Presbyterian Uome Missionary.
As soon as the one birdling of
the familv appears, both parents
address themselves to tenderest
nursing, sharing mntnally all re-
sponsibilities.
Very olten,however,these happy
household plans are seriously in-
terfered with. Early in the soa-
ONONPAOA VILLAOE,
fishing, a straw tie must be put
upon their necks to prevent them
from swallowing the fish when
they catch them. In the eighth
or ninth month of the year, they
will daily descend into the water
at 1 1 o'clock in the morning, and
catch until five in the nl'ternoon,
when they will come on shore.
Thoy will continue to go on in
this way until the third month,
after which time they cannot fish
until the eighth month conies
around again. The male is easily
known from the female, it being
generally a larger bird, and in
having a darker and more glossy
feather, but morn particularly in
the size of the head, the head of
the male being large and that of
the female small."— iN^.Y. Pott.
enclosed with strong quadruple | son brave-hearted banters go in
search of the much-prized eggs —
rare dainties they as table luxu-
ries, and commanding fabulous
prices ; but what fearful risks the
intrepid egg-hunters run ! Com-
rades lower them by ropes from
dizzv heights, sometimes many
hundred feet. Slowly, slowly
thev go down, realizing, as only
such can, that only the strength
of a hempen cord and the power
of two human hands are between
them and sure death.
The eggs of the
great auk are
about five inches
long and three in
breadth, and very
curiously marked
are they. Upon a
silvery-tinted
ground are char-
acters resembling
those upon Orien-
tal wares. O u t-
iined in green, pur-
ple, blue, and
brown are these
quaint traceries,
with occasional in-
terrupting patches
in which various
shades are blend-
ed. Sometimes
one finds black
lines irregularly
crossing each
other.
Should an egg
of yellowish tint
oome to the hun-
ter's hand, it mav
be called a " red-
letter day" in his
calender, since
such are esteemed
of " royal lineage"
in an k-1 a n d
regions — as rare as
gold itself. Upon
this faint amber-
tinted ground the
wonderful hiero-
glyphics stand out
[in strangely beautiful relief
Forty years ago only about
thirty auks and forty eggs were
recorded belonging to public and
private collections. At one time
fifty dollars were paid for two auk.s
and two eggs; a little later half
that sum for one egg ; and not
very long since we read that five
hundred dollars were given for
one egg.
AUKS' EGOS.
the eggs of
are such costly
the
No wonder
..1/frt ivipennis
treasures. No wonder either
that Icelanders, hunting for auks'
eggs, have a custom of uniting in
singing psalms, and with bared
heads reverently commending
themselves to God in silent pray-
er just before entering upon the
perilous task.
Emphatically is the great ouk
a ledge-dweller during the arctic
summer ; enticingly pleasant is it
to them along ice-rimmed shelves ;
and happy conples.many thousands
of them, settle themselves con-
tentedly, exchanging the snowy
garb of winter for a sammer suit
of glossy black.
By the time a child enters his
" teens," his habits of life are form-
ed. By force of will or of circum-
stances they may be modified, but
they cannot bo wholly swept
away. — Examiner,
Ir TovR path is smooth;—
watch and pray. T
SH»
t*m
r*
of
enU
rest
re-
ppy
in-
aea-
in
II
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THK ■NoRTilKKN .MKSSKNCER."
101
THE LADY AND THE
OLAR8
BUR.
" Call npon me," mys Qod, ' in
the dav of trouble, and I will de-
liver thee, and thuu shalt glorily
me."
In a larffe and l''ne honse in
the Bonth cf England lived a lady
of piety and wealth, with only
maid senranta in the dwelling it-
self, her men servants being in
cottages at a distance f?om the
honse. It was her custom to go
through the honse with one of her
servants every evening, to see
that the windows and doors
were properly secured ; and
one nighlt,aner seeing thai all
was safe, she retired to her
room, when, as she entered
it, she saw distinctly n man
under her bed. Whnt could
she do ? Her servants were
in a distant part of the house,
where they could not hear
her if she cried for help, and
even if with her they were
no match for a desperate
housebreaker. What then
did sho do? Quietly closing
and locking the door, ns she
was always in the hal>it of
doing, sho leisurely brushed
her hair, put on herdre.ssiiiq;-
gown, and then, taking her
Bible, sat down to read. She
read aloud though in a, low
and serious tone, choosing a
chapter which had special
reference to God's watchful
care over those that trust
him, whether by daj or by
night. When it was ended
sho knelt and prayed aloud,
commending herself and ser-
vants to the divine protec-
tion, pleading their utter
helplessness, and their de-
pendence on God to preserve
them from danger, and pray-
ing for the poor, the sinful
and the tempted, that they
might be kept from evil, and
led to put their trust in God
as their Father and Friend.
Then, rising from her knees
and putting ont the candle,
she laid herself down in bed,
though, almost of course, she
did not sleep After a few
moments the man came out
from his concealr-ient, and
standing by her bedside,
beggedlier not to be alarmed.
"I came here," he said, " to
rob you, but after the words
you have read, and the
prayer you have uttered,
power on earth could induce me
to harm you, r>r to touch a thing
in your dwelling. But you must
remain perteotly quiet, and not
make a sound to alarm vonr ser-
vants, cr to interfere with mo. I
will give a signal to my compan-
ions which will lead them to ^o
away, and yon mav sleep in
peaco, for no one shall harm you
or disturb the smallest thing in
yonr house." Ho then went to
tho window and gave a low whis>
tie, and coming back to the lady's
side, said, "Now I am going.
Yonr prayer will be answered,
and no disaster will befall you."
He left the room, and soon all was
quiet; and the lady at last fell
asleep, calm in the exercise of her
faith and trust in Ood, her soul
filled with thankfulness for his
protecting goodness. The man
proved trno to his word. In the
morning it was found that not a
thing ill the house had been dis-
turbed. And the lady more than
once and eariiegtly prayed that
the man might bu led to forsake
his evil courses and put his trust
in that Saviour who came to seek
determined to murder her, so that
it was providential she took the
course she did. Then before he
went away ho said, ' I never
heard such words before, and I
must have the book out of which
you read ;' and ho carried off her
Bible, willingly enough given
you may bu sure."
This happened years ago, and
only lately did the lady hear any
more of the robber. She was at-
tending a religious meeting in
Yorkshire, where alter several
own experience, that he never
fails his people in the hour cf
their need!~/(/M Chrii. Weekly.
NAILED
CANCELLED AND
UP.
There is a beantifnl Oriental
custom of which I have read that
tells the story of Christ's atone-
ment on the Cross very perfectly.
When a debt had to bo settled,
either by full payment or forgive-
it was the nsage for the
ness, It was the nsage
creditor to take tho cancelled bond
noted clergymen and others had! and nail it over the door of him
spoken, a man arose, saying that {who hcd owed it, that all passers-
by might see that ft was
paid. Oh, blessed story of
our admission ! There is the
cross, the door of grace, be-
hind which a oankrupt
world lies in hopeless debt
to tho law. See Jesus, our
bondsman and brother, com-
ing forth with tho long list
of our indebtedness in His
hand. He Hits it up where
Qod and angels and men
mav see it, and then, as the
nail goes through His hand,
it goes through the bond of
our transgressions to cancel
it forever, blotting out the
handwriting of ordinances
that was against us, that was
contrary to us, he took it out
of the way, nailing it to His
cross ! Come to that cross,
O sinner ! Not i» order that
you msy wash out your sins
by your tears, or atone for
them liy your good works,
or efface tnem by your soph-
istries or self-deceptions. But
come rather that you may
read the long, black list that
is against you, and be pierced
to your heart by compunc-
tion and sorrow that you
have offended such a Being;
and then that, lifting up
your eyes, you may see God
turning His eyes to the same
cross at which you are look-
ing, and saying " I, even I,
am He that blotteth out thy
transgressions for mine own
sake, and will not remember
thy sins." — A. J. Gordon.
i ■' JACK AND BLOSSOM.
no I and to save the lost, and who, even ■ he was employed as one of the
on the cross, could accept and save book-hawkers (or colporteurs) of
the thief who was penitent. the Society, and told the story
The deliverance ofthe lady raoy of the midnight adventure,
seem wonderful, and tho story , as a testimony to the won-
nlmost too strange for belief. But derful power of tho Word of God,
some time after the occurrence a. concluding with, "I was that
letter was received by the one ma» '" The lady rose from her
who related it, fully corroborating seat in the hall, and said quietly,
tho statement, and addinir some," It "s a" true; I was the lady!
facts that enhance both the won-,*nd sat down again,
dcr and the mercy of the escape. | If we had more faith in God's
The letter says, "In the Hrst place, word, and more full and child-
the robber told her that if she like reliance on His promises and
had given the slightest alarm or His providence, should we not
token of resistance, he was fully tar more frequently find, in our
A Home without books
is like a room without win-
dows. No man has any
right to bring np his chil-
dren without surrounding
them with books It is a
great wrong to his family. Ho
cheats them. Children very
easily learn to read by being in
the presence of books. The love
of knowledge comes with the
reading of books, and grows np-
on it. And the love of knowledge
in a young mind is almost a war-
rant against the inferior excite-
ment of passion and vice.
Thou Invisible Spibit of
wine ! if thou hast no name to be
known by, let us call thee devil.
—Shakespeare.
%
I
ana-
^M9
r
102
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
THF STORY OP SIU CHIN.
BT msfl DANTRLL8.
In the village of Toa-Po, in the
Tie-Ie district, a poor family, anr-
named Tie, live in two rooms
and the house rented at that.
There is no direct communioation
between these two rooms.so in go-
ing from one to the other, persons
mpst go out of doors. One room
is fnrmshed with two beds, a table,
two cupboards, a bench and two
chairs — this is the room in which
Miss Norwood and I were invited
to partake of tea, r«ke and candies,
when we visited the family in
October — in the second room is s '
bod, a loom, a chair and sma'
articles used in cooking, besi<
the loose stuff, sticks, dried grc
etc., which belong to every vJc <•
nese family and must be storet* . ,
The father of the family .s a
heathen and an interpreter of the
gods, the mother is a Christian
and Bible-iecder, the elder
son is a Christian and a
theological student, the eldest
daughter is a believer, but having
married into a heathen family she
is not allowed to worship the true
Ood and onlv does it secretly ; the
second daughter died many years
ago ; the third, a bright girl four-
teen years old, was betrothed to a
heathen before she or her taother
believed, and these betrothals
being like .the laws of the Medes
and Persians she will be obliged
to marry this heathen and go into
a heathen family to live, to the
great regret oi herself and her
mother. The second son is a
believer but is kept iu the heathen
schools at his home by his father.
The fourth daughter is in the
school at Swatow, and she is the
little girl of whom I wish to tell
you. Her name is Tie Siu Chin.
Sin Chin came into the school less
than two years since. She has
the advantage of a mother's care
and consequently the prospect oi
being betrothed to a Christian lad.
You may feel like smiling at the
idea of a little girl only twelve
years old being betrothed or " en-
gaged to be married' as we often
say, but this you know is the
practice all over China and so it
seems all right to these children.
"All right" do I say? No! I
think not. I believe that many
of the girls rebel against the
custom, aud feel in their hearts
as bitter as many girls at home do
in following fashions that are in-
convenient and disagreeable.
Yet custom in China is just as
great a tyrant as fashion in
America, and both work ruin to
the domestic happiness which
Ood ordained for the good of both
Chinese and American girls. Siu
Chin is said to be naturally very
amiable and industrious, so that
she undoubtedly has a pleasant
life before her. The neighbors
all praise her and say that she
never deserves a beatinff. Her
. mother says that when she was
ing the woman spinning she
urged her to teach ner to spin.
She allowed her to go for many
days but did not oelieve she
could learn. She persevered and
when she brought the yarn that
she had spun to her mother she
was greatly delighted.
She was about eight years old
when her mother and brother
first beUeved, and they at once
began evening prayers. She
was always present, but her
mother did not know how she
felt about it until one night as she
sat sewing. Sin Chin said to her,
" Mother, do not sew now, I am
"-y sleepy and want to go to
, but I do not want to go un
we hare had prayers." This
aa before she fuUjt believed, but
the devil, and interpreting for the
false gods. Her father received
the letter when there were many
heathen present. He was very
proud that she had written to
him, BO he read it aloud, and
showed the writing to the com-
pany, who declared that the
writing was good, but the words
were not good. Then the mother,
who was also present, told them
many things about the gospel,
and no one made an answer.
While Siu Chin has been in
school she has read the hymn-
book, the lour gospels. Acts,
Corinthians and Oenesis in the
language of the common people,
and she has read Exodus in the
letters of the educated people.
Bvory Christian Chinese woman
after a time she came to school,
and when she went home she
wanted to pray with them.
One day she said to her mother:
" I want to be baptized." Her
mother replied, " You are very
small, and I fear you do not
understand much of the gospel."
She repeated, •' I positively want
to be baptized, and be a disciple
of Christ." She soon returned to
school, and two communions after
the brethren thought her a suit-
able subject for baptism.
Not long after this she wrote a
letter to her father in which she
said to him that she felt he ought
to know the gospel, and she was
exhort him to believe
J- writmg to
oaly six years old she went to in Jesus Christ and worship God,
the house of a neighbor and see- 1 and to throw aside the affairs of
1 1 oaly SIX
4^ the hons(
who can read gives hope for the
native church, for though aa a
a girl and a woman she be much
neglected, as the aged mother she
becomes monarch of the house-
hold, and as a Christian her in-
fluence is felt in everything that
pertains to religious worship in
the entire household. So we trnsl
that all of our girls in the school
are yet to be helpful in the
church.
Swalou), June 20, 1882.
Does not this interesting story
make yon want to help Chinese
girls to know the way of life ?
—Standard.
GKTTINO A SITUATION.
Mr. Silas Brown had advestised
for a clerk. He wanted one to
*1
the O
beffin in the lowest place m
office ; but it found oomnetent he
would be' advanced. Mr. Silas
Brown was a sharp, and some
said hard, business man. But he
was just, and had a really kind
heart under his sharp waya-
Edward Clayton had seen the
advertisement, and as ha wanted
to do something to help his
widowed mother, he determined
to apply for the situation, though
he had heard not a little about
Mr. Brown's sharp ways. So ho
presented himseit in that gentle-
man's office, and told him why he
had come.
"Tour name 7 " said Mr.
Brown.
"Edward Clayton," was the
response.
"Age?"
" Seventeen."
" Ever been in business? "
" No, sir."
" What do you know ? "
" My teacher, Mr. Grey, of the
High School, will tell you that I
stood well in my classes."
" Do you smoke, or chew
tobacco ? "
" No, sir. My mother would
not allow that, even if I wanted
to."
" So you are not too old to mind
your mother," said the mer-
chant.
" No, sir."
"Go to church?" asked Mr.
Brown.
"Yes, sir, and to Sabbath-
school."
'• If I employ you, will you do
ex&ctly as I tell you 7 "
" Certainly, sir," said Edward,
" so long as you do not tell me to
do anything wrong."
" Well, that's cool, I declare,"
said the merchant. " Who is to
be the judge, I should like to
know, as to what is right and
wrong?"
" So far as I am concerned, Mr.
Brown," replied the young man,
" I must decide by my own con-
science. But I do not believe
that you would ask me to do any-
thing that was wrong."
" Have you any recommenda-
tions ? " persisted Mr. Brown.
" No, sir. I have never been iu
business, and so have no one tn
give a recommendation."
" Oh, well, ' said the merchant,
something like a smile coming
over his sharp features, " I think
you have some very goiod recom-
mendations. A young man in
these days who does not smoke or
chew, who is willing to acknow-
ledge that he is obedient to hi.s
mother, who attends church and
Sabbath-school, and who says
that he will be governed by his
conscience, is, to my thiiuung,
well recommended."
So Edward g(ot the place, and I
fancy will be able to keep it, at
least until he grows oat of it,
into a better one.
Good principles, boys, are the
best foundation you can have for
true aaooan tn lild.—Child'i
Paper.
c*
4\
Mt.
the
chew
meTchant. |
ile coming
B, "I think
ood recom-
ig man in
ot tmoke or
to acknow-
lient to his
chnrch ami
who says
led by his
thinking,
)cn hare for
[ita.—Child'i ,
r
O u
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
103
MURILLO'S MULATTO.
NesrW three hundred vears
ago, in tne city of Seville, lived
one of the greatest of Spanish
Sainten — Bartolem^ Kat^ban
[nrillo.
Many beauUntl pictures paint-
ed by this master adorn the
palace's of the Old World, while a
lew may be found in the posses-
sion of wealthy art-Iorers upon
this side of the water.
Jn the chnrch of Seville one
may see four beantifal paintings
— one, a picture of Christ bound
to a column, St. Peter in a kneel-
ing posture at His feet, as if im-
plormg pardon ; another, a
superb painting of St.
Joseph ; one of St. Ann ; and
a fourth, an exquisite picture
of the Virgin Mother hold-
ing the inmnt Jesus in her
arms. These paintings ar?
largely sought for and long
gazed upon by all art-lovers
who visit Spam, and are par-
ticularly admired by artists
for their truthful beauty,
delicate tints, and natural
coloring.
But they are not Muril-
lo's
These noble paintings, the
pride and glory of Seville to-
day, were conceived and ex-
ecuted by a mulatto, SebaH-
tian Gomez, wfio was once
the slave, then the pupil,
and in time the peer of his
illustrious and high-minded
master.
The childhood of Sebas-
tian Gomfez was one of servi-
tude His duties were
many and constant He was
required to grind and miz
the colors used by the young
senors, who came at the
early hour of six in the
morning to take their lessons
in drawmg and painting in
the studio of the great Muril-
lo; to prepare and stretch
canvas, run errands, and be
ready at all times to answer
the capricious demands of
these high-bom and imperi-
ous youths.
The poor mulatto boy nadi
however, in addition to a
generous heart and amiable
temper, a quick wit, bright
intellect, and willing hands.
His memory also was excel-
lent; he was not without
judgment, and, what was better
than all, he was gifted with the
power of application.
Intellect, wit, memory, judg-
ment are all good endowments,
but none of these will lead to ex-
cellence if one has not a habit of
industry and steady application.
Sebastian Oomdi, at the age of
fifteen, found himself capable, not
only of admiring, but also of ap-
preciating, the work of the pupils
who wrought in his master's
studio.
which they failed to note in their
studies.
It chanced, sometimes, that he
would drop a hint of his thoughts,
when handing a mahl-stick, or
moving an easel for some artist
student.
" How droll it is that the sly
other than light comment.
One day a student who had
been for a long f ime at work upon
a " Descent from (he Croa8,"and
who,bnt the previous day, had ef-
faced from the canvas an unsatis-
factory head of the Mater Dolo-
rosa, was struck dumb with sur-
young rogue should be so nearly ' prise at finding in its place a love
correct in his criticisms !" one of \y sketch of the head and face
the pupils would perhaps remark, | he had so labored to perfect,
after over-hearing some auiet The miracle— for miracle it seem
suggestion of the mulatto lad.
" Aye. One might think the
slave a connoisseur." would laugh
another.
"Truly, it was owing to a cun-
ning hint of his that my St. An-
ed — was inquired into, and ex-
amination proved that this ex-
quisite head, which Murillo him-
self owned that ho would have
been proud to have painted, was
the secret work of the little slave
"Other masters leave to pos-
terity only pictures," exclaimed
the glad mMter. "I shall be-
queath to the world a painter !
Your name, Sebastian, shall go
down to posterity only in com-
pany with mine ; your fame shall
compete mine ; coming ages,
when tbey name you, shall call
you ' MnriUo's mulatto' !"
He spake truly. Throughout
Spain to-day that artist who, of
all the great master's pupils, most
nearly equals him in all his vari-
ed excellences, is best known,
not as Sebastian Gomez alone,
but as " Sebastian Gomez ; The
Mulatto of Murillo."
Murillo had Gom6z made
a free citizen of Spain.treated
him as a son, and, when dy-
ing, he left him a part of his
estate. Beit Gomez survived
his illustrious master and
friend only a few } ears, dy-
ing, it is said, about the year
1500.— S<. Nicholas.
DRAWING LESSON.
drew's arm was improved in the
foreshorteniufif "
" It was Gomez who detected
first the harshness in my coloring
of this St Catherine's hands, and
noted the false curve of the lower
lip. The mulatto has the true eye
for color, and, in truth, he seems to
guess at form as readily as some
of his betters."
Such were the remarks
that often followed the lad's exit,
as the young senors lightly com-
mented upon his criticisms
There came a time, however,
ft Attimeaheevenfanciedthathetwhen the poor mulatto re-
could deteo* error. *^i blemiihe.1 ceived from their lordly lips far
iHt —
Sebastian. So closely had ho
listened to his great master's in-
structions to the pupils, so reten-
tively stored them in his mind,
and so industriously worked upon
them while others slept, — his cus-
tom being to rise at three in the
morning and paint until five, —
that he, the servant of the young
artists, had become, unconscious-
ly to himself as to them, an artist,
also. Murillo,upon discovering the
genius of G«m^z, was enraptured,
and declared that the young mu-
latto ahould be in his aignt no
longer a slave, but a man, his
pupil, and an artist.
LOCUST EATERS.
The Riff Arabs, when they
see a swarm of locusts hover-
ini? in the air and cloud-
ing the sky, watch thom
with anxiety, and when
they descend near their
habitations they receive
them with shouts of
gratitude to God and
Mohammed, throw them-
selves on the ground, and
collect them as fast as pos-
sible. The locusts, deprived
of their heads, legs, and
wings, are well boiled in
butter, and served up with
a substance called a'cuzcuz
The Riff Arabs consider them
delicious food. Their camels
also eat them greedilv. The
Moors use them to this day,
by first boiling and then fry-
ing them. The Moorish Jews,
more provident than their
Mussulman neighbors, salt
them and keep them for
making a dish called dafina,
which forms the Saturday's
dinner of the Jewish inhabi-
tants. This dish is made by
putting meat, fish, eggs, to-
matoes, locusts, " in fact, al-
most anything edible, into a
jar. placing the latter in an
oven on Friday night, and
then taking it out hot on the
Sabbath." In this manner
the Hebrew gets a hot dinner
without committing the sin of
lighting a fire upon that day. —
Popular Science Monthly.
God never accepts a good in-
clination instead of a good action,
where that action may be done ;
nay, so much the contrary, that if
a good inclination be not second-
ed by a good action, the want of
that action is made so much the
more criminal and inezcns«ble. —
South.
He that respects not ia-uot re-
spected. — Herbtrt.
\ SI
i
HKPRiNTKD STOUlEti. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
•^
Kin. 1.— EDIBT.E MUSSEL.
THE EDIBLE MUSSEL.
The common edible muasel, at-
tracts our special attention on ac-
count of its value as an article of
diet and commerce.
In the accompanying enfi^rav-
ing, Fig. 1 shows the animal laid
open to view, the left half of the
triangular shell having been re-
moved, while the brim of the
mantle has been thrown back a
little to allow a better inspection
of the inner organs. Both parts
of the shell are alike in shape and
size. The hinge or lock unit ii^
(hem is located in the smalie'^t
angle of the triangle formed by
the shell, and both of the latter
end at this point in short conical
elevations. At the opposite end
there is a small opening in the
shell and in close proximity runs
a short fringed tul>e connecting
with the inner organs of respi-
ration.
The peculiar digital form of the
foot and (he presence of a spin-
ning gland ur byssus arc charac-
teristic, and both are undoubtedly
related to the stationary mode of ; years. Each individual produces
life of the animal. The long side { millions of oflapring.
firm in » ahort time.
Oiicn attached to a rock or
log '(hey resist the action
of the stronirest current
or heariost gale. Fig. 2 is
a correct representation
of (ho inuaspl as attached
(o a iixed object.
If (ho mussel desires lo
change i(s residence it
draws {(self forward ax
far ns j>ossible, and at-
taches a few threads as far
ahead as the foot reaches
At the same (ime a few of
the old threads are sever-
ed. This manipulation is
repeaied un(il a suitable
site is reached. Although
this mode of locomodon is
extremely slow, the ani-
mal nevertheless manages
to (ravel considerable distances
in this manner.
The edible mussel inhabits, by
preference, (hose pordons of the
shore which are laid dry at low
tide; and in the neighborhood of
the mouths of rivers, where (he
perccnUge of calt in the water is
low, brosd thick bands may be
observed covering (hat particular
section and marking it distinctly.
Sometimes as many as 2,000 indi-
viduals have been counted on an
area of one square foot.
As above menduned, the ani-
mal prefers water containing only
a little salt. It abounds, there-
fore, especially in those kuropean
wiiters cut otf partly from free
communicadons with the Atlan-
tic, as in the German North Sea,
the Baltic, and the Adriatic.
They have also been acclimatized
in the Caspian Ftea, the water of
which is not extremely salt.
In the northern waters the
edible mussel attains its full size
in four to five years, and in the
Mediterranean in one to two
of the shell being the face side of {
the mussel. A is the brim of the
mantle of the latter. On both
sides of the mouth, F, will be
noticed the long, narrow, folded
tentacles, G ; J is the exterior, I
the interior respiratory muscle ;
Besides being almost indispen-
sable as bait for certain fish, they
are extensively used as an article
of food. They are largely culti-
vated in all European waters, in
so-called "parks." In the North
Sea these consist of large num-
E and D are muscles controlling bers of trees, from which the
the foot, B, under and behind the : smaller branches only have been
base of which is situated the cut, and which are planted in the
byssus or spinning gland. From bottom of the sea at such a dis-
i(s cavity a groove extends along tance from the shore that their
the lower side of the loot, and upper portion is partially laid
sk ena
S ( to t1
ends at its tip in a transversi'
cavity containing a small plate,
perforated by seven small apar-
tures, used for sucking.
By means of the foot and the
bysscan gland the aiii.nal is en-
abled to spin a net or barb, ' ',
consisting of numerous thin
threads, attached firmly to the
surface of the rock or other ob-
ject forming its abode. These
threads are produced from a vis-
cid liquid substance secreted in
the byssean gland, which is suck-
ed up into the apertures of the
end of the foot and drawn out in-
to threads, which become quite ^
baro at low water. After four or
five years they are raised, strip-
ped, and replaced by others. In
the bay of Kiel, Germany, alone
about 1,000 of these trees are
annually planted and about 1,000
tons of mussels are brought on
the market. Bad seasons occur,
however, both wi(h respect to
quality and quantity, owing to
various causes. In the Adriatic
the mussels are raised on ropes
extended between poles rammed
into the ground. The ropes are
raised and stripped once in eigh-
teen mouths.— Sci'e/i/iVfc Ameri-
can.
THE SINNERS TLBA.
In the days when Napo-
leon was First Oonral of France,
a well dressed girl, fourteen
years of age, presented herself
alone at the gute of the palace
By tears and entreadesshe inoved
the kind-hearted porter to allow
her (o enter. Passing from one
room to another, she found her
way to the hall through whtch
Napoleon, with his ofiicers, was
to pass. When he appeared, she
cast herself at his feet, and in the
most earnest and moving manner,
cried, " Pardon, sire, pardon for
my father !"
" And who is your father ?"
asked Napoleon ; " and who are
you ?■'
" My name is Lajolia,"Bhe said,
and with flowing tears added,
" but sire, my father is doomed
to die."
"Ah, young lady," replied
Napoleon ; I can do nothing for
you. It is the second time that
your father has been found guilty
of treason against (he State."
" Alas," exclaimed the girl, " I
know it sire ; but I do not ask for
justice — I implore pardon. I be-
seech you, forgive, forgive my
father ?"
Napoleon's lips trembled, and
his eyes filled with tears. After
a momentary struggle of feeling,
ho gently took the hand of the
young maiden and said :
" Well, my child, for your sake
I will pardon your father. That
is enough. Now leave me."
Keader, know, that, as a sinner
against God, (he cry from your
lips must always be, " Not jastice,
but pardon."
"I KNOW A THING OR
TWO."
" My dear boy," said a father
to his only son, " you are in bad
company. The lads with whom
vou associate indulge in bad
habits. They drink, smoke,
swear, play cards, and visit
theatres. They are not safe com-
pany for you. I beg you to quit
their society."
" Yon needn't be afraid of me,
father," replied the boy langh-
lag. " I gnees 1 know a thing or
two, I know how far to go and
when to stop,"
The lad lelt hia father's house,
twirling his cane in his fingers
and laughing at the old man's
notions.
A few years later and that lad,
grown to manhood, stood at the
bar of a court, before ajury which
had just brought in a verdict of
guilty against him for some crime
in which he had been concerned.
Before he was sentenced he ad-
dressed the court, and said among
other things : " My downward
course began with disobedience
to my parents. I thought I knew
as much of the world as my
father did, and I spurned his ad-
vice ; but as soon aa I turned my
back on my home, temptation
came upon me like a drove of
hyenas, and hurried me to ruin."
Mark that confession, ye boys
who are besrinning to be wiser
than your parents ! Mark it, and
learn that disobedience is the
first step on the road to ruin.
Don't take it\— Christian Intelli-
Ifencer.
AN OLD CLOCK'S ADVICE.
An Englishman says that in his
great-grand Csther's house, as he
has heard his mother tell, there
was a clock on which was the
following inscription:
" Hrn I itaitd both d«y andaight.
To toll itao lima wlih all my mU>>t :
D I thon *z«inpl« tak* b; ■•,
Aod Mrro tbj Ood M I Mrro th«a."
The old clock remained in the
family for many yearB,bntthe time
of which it told so faithfully at
last conquers all things on earth.
— Oolden Day*.
Mint a strong character was
only pulp to begin with ; and but
for a providential pressure upon
it it would have remained pulp
to this day. — Sunday- School
Timtt.
As A malarial air may endan-
ger a good constitution, ao bad
companions endanger a good
character.
no. 2.— XDIBLK KD88XL.
^ra
•*^
of me,
ling or
rn and
boys
wiser
Ic it, and
) is the
>o rain.
Inlelli-
** onE
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE '« NORTHERN MESSENGER."
106
t
QUEER CONVETANCES.
Our little onei in the coun-
try ra*y have •miled to tee a
chicken mounted on the old
hen's back while she sat sun*
uinr herself in the yard
Perhaps the young thins
with few feathers sanr a sojt
" Gree-cree," to tell that he
enjoyed his position. At
night he would better like to
be brooded undtr the mother
winffs.
When Biddy got upon her
feet and went marching on,
ofi tumbled chick. Now he
must use his own legs or be
left behind. Those biU of
legs may well be weary
sometimes with long jour-
neys about the farm.
One or two species of birds
ar* known to fly long distances,
carrying their young on their
backs.
Small birds take passage across
the Mediterranean Sea on the
backs of large and stronger ones.
They could not Ay so far. Their
strength would give out, and thoy
would drop in the water and
drown.
Along the northern shore of the
sea, in autumn, these little birds
assemble, to wait the coming of
cranes from the North, as people
wait for the train at a railway
station.
With the first cold blast the
cranes arrive, flock after flock.
They fly low over the cultivatod
fields. They utter a peculiar cry,
as of warning or calling. It an-
swers the same purpose as the
ringing of the bell when the train
is about to start.
The small birds understand it
so. They get excited. They
hasten aboard, scrambling for
places. The first to come get the
best seats. If the passengers are
too many, some will have to flit
back to the hedges till the next
train. How they chatter good-
byes, — those who go and those
who stay.
No tickets have they, but all
the same they are conveyed safe-
ly. Doubtless the great birds
like this warm covering for their
backs. In this way the small
birds pay their fare. And it is
(he finest palaces in ancient
Rome were soon covered
with soot and lilih. It was
impossible to korp them
clean. The mo.iaics and the
paintings on the walls soon
became d' 'ro'.ored. In the
oastleN of England and
France it was still worse.
Here ihr huffe fire biased in
the c-'ntre of the great hall.
The smoke covered the roof
with black drapery, and the
sb ge knights and squires
were forced either to endure
the cold, or to live and
breathe in an air that was
dangerous to siaht, health,
and life itselfT — Harper' i
Young People.
HIS-
CHIMNBTS: THEIR
TORY.
Chimneys seem so .natural to us
that wo forget that there was a time
when they were unknown. They
were invented about the same
time with clocks and watches.
No house in ancient Rome or
Athens had them. The Oreeks
and Ilomans heated their rooms
with hot coals in a dish, or by
flues underneath the floor. The
smoke passed out by the doors
and windows. You could always
tell when a Roman was about to
give a dinner party by the clouds
of smoke that came out of the
Icitchen windows. It must have
been very unpleasant for the
cooks, who had to do their work
in the midst of it.
The tall chimneys that rise
over the tops of the houses in New
York and Brooklyn, pouring out
their clouds of smoke, would have
seemed miracles to our ancestors
a few centuries ago. Even the
pipe of a steamer or the chimney
of a kerosene lamp they would
have thought wonderful. In
England, in the time of the Con-
queror (1066;, the fire was built
on a clay floor or in a hole or pit
in the largest room of the house.
The smoke passed through an
opening in the roof. At night a
cover wai placed over the coals
Everybody was by law obliged
to cover up his fire when the bell
rang at a certain hour. In
these last who must be out in the j French this was cuuvre-feu, and
wet if it storms. | hence the word " curfew" bell.
The little passengers arc of dif- , Chimneys began to be used
ferent species, like Americans, I generally in England in the be-
Irish, Germans, and Chinese | ginning of the reign of Elizabeth.
travelling together in cars or i No one Knows who invented them,
steamships. Their journey takes or when they first came into use.
them through the air, high above We find them first in Italy.
the wide sweep of waters. They! In Venice they seem to have
' been not uncommon as earlv as
had long
are close companions on tSe way.
By and by they reach the beau-
tiful South country. There they
build nests and sing sweetly, as
they build here and sing for us in
our happy summer-time.
Indeed, God cares for the spar-
rows. — Our LiUle Ones.
Dost thou love life ? then do
not squander time, for that is the
•tuff life is made of.— Franklin
1847. In 1368 they
been in use at Padua. They
were at first built very wide and
large, so that they could be easily
cleaned. The wide chimney-
pteces of some of our older houses
are very curious.
But as time passed on chim-
neys were made taller, narrow,
and often crooked. When they
had to be cleaned it was custom-
ary to send boys up into them to
remove the soot and ashes. It
was then that the saddest stories
were told of the little sweeps
who were forced to climb up the
narrow flues, and come down
torn, bleeding, and covered with
soot. These poor creatures, who
were often not more than seven
or eight years old, were some-
times suflocated in the foul chim-
nevs they attempted to clean.
When they reached the top they
were expected to look out and
give a loud shout. No boy
would over become a chimney-
swe jp from choice, and they were
often driven to climb the chim-
neys by the fear of a whipping.
The crueltv of the master-sweeps
was fearful.
The little chimney-sweeper
has passed away. His place is
taken by a patent broom and a
colored operator. Chimneys are
built two and three hundred feet
high. In Birmingham, England,
one fell down recently on a large
factory, killing and wounding
thirty or forty workmen and
Others. The tallest chimney in
New York is that of the Steam-
heating Company.
The chimney is one of the
most useful of inventions. We
can not well understand how the
Oreeks and Romans did without
it. But with us it is everywhere.
Our lamps would never burn
without a chimney ; our steam-
boats and engines would be help-
less without it; OUT factories are
moved by it; it warms our houses,
and gives employment to thou-
sands of people.
In the days before chimneys
were invented men lived in
clouds of smoke. The walls of
THE SWEARER REPROVED
BY A CHILD.
Some little children were sit*
ting one day on the steps of a
door singing, as they often do,
some of their favorite hymns.
They were suddenly surprised by
a half-drunken man, who came
lip to them, and, uttering an oath,
said —
" Does your master teach yon
nothing but singing those foolish
hymns?"
" Yes," said a sharp little fel-
low, about six years of age; "he
tells us it is wicked to swear."
The poor worthless man seem*
ed ashamed of his conduct, and
passed on without further remark.
THE RESTORED TEETH.
In the Metsenirer of Nov. 1st,
it will be remembered, were giv-
en a number of sacred pictures
ofiered by the Japanese to their
?;uds in gratitude for their de-
iverance from some evil. One
of these pictures with its story
was crowded out of that number
and we give it now.
This woman and her husband
have suffered terribly from tooth-
ache. The softest foodmade them
jump with pain. But, thanks to
their gods, they have not only re*
covered, but are so strong in their
months that they can hold between
the teeth, without a pang, a four-
prongedanchorofaJapanesejunk.
Why the husband has painted
only his wife with this trial in her
mouth we cannot tell.
Bk not simply good — be good
for something. — Thureau.
THE RBSTORED TEETH.
m^^
J
r
106
REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE '< NORTHERN M^ENOER/;^
FROM A PASTOR'S NOTE-
BOOK.
BY THK niV. J B. TAYLOR.
One eveoinff, Mine yeart «go,
on a dark and atormy night, I
waa summoned to visit a neigh-
bor who was Bappo*ed to be near
hia end. 1 soon made my way to
the deaignated house, and iound
the laom tilled with friends, stand-
ing around the dying man. The
physician had done all in his
power to relieve the patient, and
said that he could not last till day.
1 took the sntferer's hand and
Talked to him concerning his hopes
ior eternity. He said that though
not connected with any church,
he waa not afraid to die ; that he
had lately been converted, and
was trusting in Christ. I con-
gratulated him on being able to
exercise such calm reliance in the
near prospect of death, and urged
on the bystanders the importance
of preparation for a dying hoar.
After reading some appropriate
passages irom the Bible and offer-
ing prayer. I left the room, not
expecting to see the young man
alive the next mominf.
That night an nmooked
for and wonderful change
took place, and the following
morning the man was not
only living but improving.
He rapidly recovered, and in
a short time was able to leave
the sick-room. A few days
after I had an opportunity
for a quiet talk with him
Imagine my surprise when,
on my having alluded to that
memorable night in his his-
tory, he expressed himself as
utterly ignorant of anything
that occurred on the occasion.
He said that he bad no re-
membrance of my visit ; that
he had never knowingly pro-
fessed conversion, and that
had he died, he would have
had no well-grounded hope
for eternity.
Reader, the explanation is
that (he sick man's mind
wandered. He was " out of
his head," and unconscious of all
that occurred at the time. And
yet had he passed away, I should
perhaps have written to absent
relatives of their dear one's trium-
phant death, and friends would
have thought of him as " safe in
heaven."
I do not mean to say that one
may not be converted on a death-
bed. God forbid that I should
limit the G^race of God and the
efficacy of atoning blood when
applied by the Holy Spirit, I know
that whenever a sinner realizes
that he has no help in himself and
no refuge of his own, and looks
to what Jesus has done and suf-
fered, he will be saved. But oh,
the gtiilt, the folly, the danger of
leaving.
•' To the mercies of a moment
The vaat concerns of an immortal stkte."
And what if that "moment,"
that last hour or day, should be
one when the brain is all dis-
ordered !—///. Chris. Weekly.
•M
HOME-MADB TELEPHONES.
Please tell me in your question
coluon how I can make a boy's
telephone, oaing wire or string aa
the conductor of sound. As I
would like to run the wire or
string at anglea, please tell me
what I ran put for supports for
wire or string at the angles so as
not to interfere with the passing
sound. Please give full partiou-
lara in your next paper.
And oblige. A Boy.
" Full partioolars" would take
a great deal of room, but wa glad-
ly do a littl* more than answer
the specific quMtion. A bright
young lad of our acquaintanee
rigged up a telephone which car-
ried aound snooessfuily adiatauce
of some sixty icet. He took a
common cigar box, bored a half
inch hole in either end, and then
sawed the box in two in the
middle. He raised the window
in his room suificiently to allow
the half box to rest between the
sash and the frame, and fitted a
board to fill the rest of the open-
ing — the open end of the box
other half of the box was put in
the Mune way at the other end of
the line. Through the half-inoh
holea a fine wire waa stretched
tight and held in plaee by being
tied around a nail which lay
aoroas the hole. It waa, you see,
a mutual benefit affair ; the nail
kept the wire in plaee and the
wire kept the nail in place. There
were no anglea to be overcome,
bat my young friend thinks he
could arrange it so that angles
would not materially interfere.
He would, aa we understand it,
iaatan a loop of stilT Wire to the
post or corner of the building
making the angle, and pass the
telephone wire through the loop
in such a way as to pall from the
post and not touch it.
The same lad describes to me
a telephone which is in operation
from his father's house to his
store ; a distance of some 875 feet.
At first they used one which cost
about five dollars, but it was too
small. They tried a larger one,
which they have again replaced
by one still larger. In this case
being inside the window. The , there are angles to be overcome
^
BRUCE AND THE SPIDKK.
King Brace of Scotland flung liimaelf dovrn.
In a lonely mood to think ;
True, he watt a monarch, and wore a crown.
But his heart waa beginning to sink.
For ha had been trying to do a great deed.
To make his people glad ;
He had tried and tried, but could not aucceed.
And ao he became quite aad.
He flung himself down in low despair.
Ah grieved as mau could be ;
And after a while he pondered there, —
" I'll vSie it up," cried he.
Now just at the moment a spider dropped,
With its silken cobweb clue;
And the king in the midst of his thinkin);
stopped
To see what the spider would do.
Twas a longaraT up to the ceiling dome,
Aud it hung bjr a rope so fine.
That how It would get to its cobweb home
King Bruce could not dirine.
It soon began to cling and crawl
Straight up with strong endeavor ;
But d ^wn it came with a slipping sprawl,
Ak near to the ground as ever.
Up, up it ran, nor a second did stay,
To make the least complaint.
Till it fell still lowor ; and there it lay
A little diuy and taint
Its head grew steady — again it went,
And travelled a halt yard higher ;
Twas a delicate thread it had
And a road where its feet would tire.
ad to tread.
L wouU
A|;ain it fell, and swung below ;
Btit up it quickly mounted,
TiEl up and down, now fast, now alow.
Six uravo attempts were counted.
"Sure," said the king, "that foolish thiug
Will strive no more to climb.
When it toils so hard to reach and cling,
And tumbles every time."
But up the insect went once more ;
Ah ine ! 'tis nn anxious minute ;
He's only a foot from his cobweb door ;
Oh, say, will ho lose or win it T
Steadily, steadily, inch by inch.
Higher and higlier he got.
And a bold little run at the very last pinch
Put him into the wisbed-for spot.
"Bravo I bravo ! " the king cried out ;
" All honor to those who try :
The spider up there defied despair !—
He conquered, and why should not It"
And Bruce of Seotland braced his mind,
And goasins tell the tale,
That he tried once more as he tried before.
And this time Le did not fail.
Pay goodly head, all ye who read.
Ana beware of saying, " I can't;"
'Tie a eowardty wora, and aptto laad
To idlenesa, folly and want
— CMUFs Companion
although the path for the wire fa
made as straight as poaaible. The
only insulators are loops; in the
case of the small telephone the top
is made of cord, in the one they
now use, of slitt' vi ire. The wire
loop is bent to form a sort of catch,
like thst in a lady's brooch, so thai
(he loop may be opened and the
wire passed in without (hn trouble
of drawing it through from either
end. This loop of stiff wire is
fB8(enod to a pole, or other sup-
port, by fine wire. So far an ap-
pears, the effort is to keep the wire
stre(ched taut, and prevented
from lying loosely against any-
thing. — Chriilian tfniom.
THE THIMBLE.
The name of this little initra-
ment is said to have been derived
(Vom "thumbell," being at the
first thumble, and afterward
thimble.
It is a Dutch invention and waa
first brought to England about
the year 1606, by John Lofting.
Formerly iron and brass were
used, but lately steel, silver and
gold have taken their places. In
the ordinary manufacture,
thin plates of metal are in-
troduced into a die, and
punched into shape.
In Paris, gold thimbles arc
manufactured to a large ex-
tent. Thin sheets of sheet-
iron are cut into dies of about
two inches diameter These
being heated red-hot, are
struck with a punch into a
number of holes, gradually
increasing in depth to give
them proper shape.
The thimble is then trim-
med, polished and indented
around its outer surface with
a number of little holes, by
means of a small wheel. It
is then converted into steel
by the cementation process,
tempered, scoured and
brought to a blue color.
A thin sheet of gold is then
introduced into the interior
and fastened to the steel by
means of a polished steel mandril.
Gold leaf is then applied to the
outside, and attached to it by
pressure, the edge being fastened
to a small groove made to receive
them. The thimble is then ready
for use. — Set. *
m
Do NOT Wade fab out into the
dangerous sea of this world's
comfort. Take what the good
God provides you, but say of it,
" It passeth away ; ior indeed it
is but a temporary supply for a
temporary need." Never suffer
your goods to become your Ood.
— Spurgeon.
If an Irreqular Teacher
should read this, listen while I
whisper to you. You would do
the greatest possible good to your
class by either being regular or
resigning your place at once. You
will also pleaso your superinten-
dent by such an act, for he is
hoping you will do one or (he
other without any hint from him.
«I4»
r*»
KKI'HINTKI) STORIhX FROM TIIK •• NORTH KRN MliSSENOBR.'
I'»7
THB LOTUS.
The ■ingnUr beantjr uid iu»
falneM of th« Itrge wtt«r-lily,
called the Lotna, hare in all a^fea
attracted to it an extraordinary
intereat ; and, combined wi*h the
lablea of the Bffptiana, tL« Hin-
doo* and the Ghinoae hare ex-
alted it in the Baat to honors
aluMMt divine.
It waa held aacred by the
ancient Egyptian*. Repreaenta-
tiona of it were acnlptared npon
(he monamenta ; tho aun waa aetin
riaing from it, and Osirit and
other deitieii aat npon it, or were
crowned with it.
In India and Oeylon the flower
ia held verv aacred. Whun
Srinces enter the idol temple they
are this flower in their hands,
and when the priests sit in silent
thought it is placed in a rase be
fore them. It is related that t
native, npon entering Sir William
Jonea' study, seeing flowers of
thia beautiful plant lying upon
the table for examination, pros-
trated himself before them.
The Sanscrit name of the flower
is Padma, and by that name it is
uaually known in Buddhist
countries. The words Om jVaiii
Padma houm ! " Oh, .Towel
(Precious One) in (on) the Lotus,
Amen ! " form the most I'recinont
prayer of many millions of man-
kind " These six syllables
which the Lamas (Buddhist
priests) repeat," ^ys Kooppen, in
his work on Lamaism, " form, of
all the prayers of the earth, the
piayer that is most frequently
repeated, written and printed.
They form the only prayer which
the common Mongols and Tibet-
ans know; they are the first
words that the stammering child
learns, and are the last sighs of
the dying. The traveller mur-
murs them upon his journey ; the
herdsman by his flock ; the wife
in her daily work ; the monk in
his devotions. One meets with
them everywhere, wherever
Lamaism has established itself —
on flrtgs, rocks, trees, walls, stone
monuments, utensils, strips of
paper and so forth.
The Buddhists of China and
Japan also greatly venerate the
flower, and associate it with all
the leading deities, who are re-
presented in the images in the
temples as seated upon it.
The power attributed to the
Lotus is in nothing more marked
than in its imagined helpfulness
to the souls of the deceased. It
figures in Ohineso paintings of
the punishment of the dead. In
these pictures the deceased are
represented as suffering tortures
of various kinds. By their
children, however, such valuable
gifts are offered as to induce
Kwanyin, the Ghoddess of Mercy,
to appear npon the scene, and
and cast the Lotos npon the
miserable sufierers. This at once
ends their punishment, and the
evil spirits are nnable to torment
^ their victims any more ! Such
* ' pictures are shown by the Bud-
m^m
dhist priests to more the compas-
sion, terrify the consciences, and
open the purses of the friends of
the dead.
Bnt, notwithstanding the saored-
neasin whicu the Lotus is held,
and the fablea and superstitions
which are associated with it, many
of (he Chinese largely cultivate
it. The fragrant bfossoms roach
a diameter of ten inches, and Und
a ready sale. The seeds or beans
are eaten as they are, or are
ground and made into cakes; the
fleshy stems supply a popular
nourishing vegetable; while the
fibres of the leaf stalks serve for
lamp-wicks.
The ancient Bgyptians alao
largely cnltivated the Lotus on
the waters of the Nile, the beans,
the stems and even the roots
being extensively used for food.
The seeds of the plant were en-
closed in hulls of clay or mud,
mixed with chopped straw, and
caat into the Nile. In due season
the beautiful potala appeared.
course ; you wouldn't thmk of tell-
ing snything else ? "
" No, I onlr thought I'd keep
it to myself, if I can. I'm afraid
it may stand in my way."
" It never atanda in one'a war
to do right, James, even though
it mayaeem to sometime* "
He found it harder than he had
expected to get a new situation.
He walked and inquired till be
felt almost discouraged, till one
day something really seemed to
be waiting for him. A young-
looking man in a clean, bright
store, newly started, was in want
of an aasiataat. Things looked
very attractive, so neat and dainty
thatJames, fearing that ahoy who
had a record for carelessness
might not be wanted there, felt
sorely tempted to conceal the
truth. It waa a long diatance
from the place from which he had
been dismissed, and the chances
weri' slight of a new employer
over hearing the truth. But he
thonght better of it, and frankly
shortly followed by buds, flowers I
and seeds. From which practice ]
the inspired writer enforces the
duty of sclt'-deiiying zenl and
faith : " Cast thy bread npon the
waters for thou shalt hud it after
many days."
TRUTH.
" Lost your situation ? How
did it happen, my boy ? "
" Well, mother, you'll say it
was all my old carelessness, I
suppose. I was dusting the
shelves in the store, and, trying
to hurry up matters, sent a lot of
fruit-jars smashing to the floor.
Mr. Barton scolded, and said he
wouldn't stand my blundering
ways any longer, so I packed up
and left."
His mother looked troubled.
" Don't mind, mother I can get
another situation soon, I know.
But what shall I say if they ask
me whv I left the last one."
"Tell the truth, James, of
told exactly the circumstances
which had led to his seeking the
situation.
" I must say I hare a great
preference for having neat-
handed, careful people about me,"
said the man, good-humoredly,
" but I have heard that those who
know their faults and are honest
enough to own them, are likely to
mend them. Perhaps the very
Inok you have had may help you
to learn to be more carelul."
" Indeed, sir, I will try very
hard," said James earnestly.
" Well I always think a boy
who tells the truth, even though
it may seem to go against him, —
Oood morning, uncle. Gome in,
sir."
He spoke to an elderly man who
was entering the door, and James
turning, found himself face to face
with his late employer.
"Oh, ho!" he said, looking at
the boy, "are yon hiring this
young chap, Fred ? "
"I naven't yet, sir."
" Well, I guesa you might trr
him. If you can only," he addea,
langhing, " keep him from spilling
all the wet goods and amaahing
all the dry onea yon II find him
reliable in everything elae. If
von find you don't like him I'll
be willmg to give him another
trial myaelf "
•If you think that well of
him," aaid the yonnger man,
" I think I shall keep him ny.
self." '
" Oh, mother, said James, going
home after having made an
agreement with his new employer,
alter such a recommendation from
his old one, " you were right, as
yon always are. It waa telling
the truth that got it for me. What
if Mr. Barton had come in there
just after I had been telling
something that wasn't exactly
so!" '
"Truth is alwaya beat,', aaid
his mother, "'the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing bnt the
truth.' "— Standard.
"FOR MB."
Little Carrie was a heathen
child, about ten years old, with
bright black eyes, dark skin, curly
brown hair, and slight, neat
form.
A little while after she began
to go to school, the teacher
noticed one day that she looked
less happy than usual
" My dear," she said, " why do
you look so sad ? "
'- Because I am thinking."
" What arc you thinking
about?"
" O teacher ! I do not know
whether Jesus loveame or not."
" Carrie, did Jesus ever invite
little children to come to him ? '
The little girl repeated the
verse, "Suffer little children to
come unto me,'' which she learned
at school.
" Well, who is that for ? "
In an instant Carrie clapped
her hands, and said : " It is not
for you, teacher, is it? for you
are not a child. No, it is for me !
for me ! "
From that hour Carrie knew
that Jesus loved her; and she
loved him back again with all
her heart.
Now, if the heathen children
learn that Jesus loves them, and
believe his kind words as soon as
1hey hear them, ought not we,
who hear so much about the dear
Saviour, to believe and love him
too? Every one of us ought to
say, " It is for me ! it is for me !
and throw ourselves into the
arms of the loving Saviour. —
Morning Light.
Pbatbb will make a man cease
from sin, or sin will entice a man
to cease from prayer. — Bunyan.
People look at your six days
in the week to see what you
mean on the seventh.
a
J" J08
REPRINTKI) STORIES. FROM TIIK •• NORTHERN M l-JWKNOER."
THE OIANT IIliUON.
Thi) ffitMt heron ( ArdeAOoliath
((igantodvit «nil nohiliai in louiid
in thn central anil aotithern part
of Afrios. The foathi r» of tho
np|H>r part of the hea«l anil tho
tnii upon lht> top of tho hna<l, al-
to the toathrra on the cnrvo of
the winf(H and tho anJer part of
the body with the oioeption of
the white throat, are oheatnnt
brown. Thw remaining uppor part
of the body is aah gray. The looan
hanging feathera on the fore part of
the neck are white on the outaide,
and black iuaide. The eye ia rrl-
low, tho npper part of the bill ia
black, the ander part ia greeniah
yellow at the point, and violel
color at the root. The foot ia
black, The length of tkia heron
ia about one hundred and thirty-
aix centimetera, the broadth
one hundred eighty aix ; the
length of tho tail twenty-
one oen timet rea, and the
length of the winga fifty-
Hve,
This bird is found near
ahallow water. It visits
amall ponda in thu fields,
water ditchea, and puola,
and in winter seeks shal-
low bays of the aea an<l
waters about thu (^oaal,
especially whoro them is a
forest in the vicinity, or at
leatt high trees, where itia
accustomed to rest.
These giant herons arc
more timid than any other
of tho species. Every clap
of thunder territies them,
and they are afraid of men
even when seen at a dis-
tancfj. It is a very difli-
cult matter to surprise an
old heron, for it seems con-
scious of every danger, and
immediately takes to Hight
if frightened. They have
a shrill voice.
Their food consists of
fishes, frogs, serpents,
especially adders, young
swamp and water birds,
mice, insects that live in
tho water, and earth worms.
Naumanu says that when a
heron reaches tho pond, if
it does not suspect thu presence
of an observer, it generally goes
immediately into tho shallow
water and begins to iish. Bend-
ing its neck, and lowering its bill,
ittastens a keen look upon tho
water, and moves softly and with
measured stride,><, hut with such
cautions 8tep.s that not tho least
splashing sound ia heard. It cir-
cles rounil tho whole poml in this
way, seeking food, throwing its
neck quickly lor ward, tlien sud-
denly drawing it t)ack. holding a
fish tirmly in its bill. II the Iish
aimed at i.s in deep water, it
moves with it.s wholo neck
under the water, and in order to
preserve its balance opens its
wings a little. It seldom misses
its aim.
These herons form settlements,
the nests sometimes numbering a
with hair, wool, or feathera. Thej
lay three or four egga, whi
hundred In April the old herona
make their appearance at the
neaip, repair Ibem if neceaaary,
anil then begin to lay. They are
about n metre broati, ahallow, and
simply put together of aticka,
twigs, reeda, or atraw. They are
lined in a very alovenly maimer
ich
average sixty roillimelrea in
length and forty-three thick. The
ahells are amooth, the color ia
green. After three weeka of
brooding the young birda are
hatched . They a re hel pleta, aw k-
ward, ugly oreaturea. They
aeem to be conatantly hungry and
eat an incredible amount. They
remain in the neat about four
weeka. After leaving tho neat
tha paranU car* lor them for •
A PEATHRRED SlIBniBRD.
In Sonlh Americi thero ia a
very beautiful bird railed the
agami, or tho gulden-breaated
trumpeter. It ia about aa large
111 the body aa one of our com-
mon barn-yanl fowl, but aa it haa
longer lege and a longer neck it
aeema much larger. Us general
color ia black, but tho plumage on
^o breast ia beautiful beyond
deacription, being what might be
called irideacent, changing, aa it
continually doea, from a ateel-blne
to a led-gold, and glittering with
a metallic luatr*.
In its wild state tha agami ia
not peculiar for anything but ita
beauty, ita extraordinary cry,
which haa given it tha name of
trumpeter, and for an odd habit
of leaping with comical antica in-
"1
faithful guardian drirnaita charge
homo again.
Soroelimes it ia giren tha oara
of a tlo<'k of aheep; and, though
It matr seem too puny for auch a
taak. It ia in iact quite equal to it.
Tha misguided aheep that triea lo
tritlewilri anagaroiaoon haacanae
torepenttheeipenmeiit; for, with
aawiflnesa unrivalled by any dog
tha feathered ahephard darta after
the rnnaway,and with winga und
beak drives it back to its place.not
forgetting to impreaa npon the
offender a aenae of ita arrora by
packs with iia beak.
Should a dog think to take ad-
rantage of the aeeroingly un-
guarded condition of tha aheep
and approach them with evil de
aigna, the agami makes no hraita-
tion about ruahingat him and giv-
ing combat. And it muat ba
a good dog that will over-
come the brave bird. In-
deed, moat dogi are to
awed by tha fierce onaet ol
tha agami, accompanied by
itaatrange cries, that they
incontinently turn about
and run, fortunate if they
eacape unwounded from
the indignant creature.
At mealtimea tt walka
into the houae and takea its
poaition near ita master,
aeeming to ask for hia ca
resses. It will not permit
the presence of any otbei
pet in the room, and even
reaenta the intrusion of any
servants not belonging
there, driving out all othere
before it will be contented.
Like a well-bred dog, it
does not clamor for food,
but waits with dignity un-
til its wants have been sat-
isfied. — From " BfHtvolent
Birdt," by Will Woodman,
in St. Nicholas.
TRIMMING
PHANTS
THE ELE-
FEET.
O'.ANT HKBON. — (0«e-/f/M Natural
II ^
few days and then leave (hem to
their fate. Old and young then
disperse, and the settlement is
deserted.
Baldsmus says that tho fe^r
which these borons have oi <«;i
birds of prey, even crows and
magpies, is really laughable.
The robbers appear to know this,
for they plunder the heron settle-
ments with shameless impudence,
and expect no greater revenge
than a few feeble blows of the
wings.
They are easily raised in
captivity, their food consisting of
liab, frogs, and mice. — From
Bfehm's Animal Life.
A Wise Man will make more
opportunities than he finds. —
Lord Bacon.
to the air, apparently for its own
amusement. When tamed, how-
ever, — and it soon learns to aban-
don its wild ways, — it usually
conceives a violent attachment for
its muster, and, though very jeal-
ous of his aflection, endeavors to
please him by a solicitude for tho
well-being of all that belongs to
him, which may fairly be termed
benevolence.
It is never shut up at night as
the other fowl are, but, with a
well-deserved liberty, is permitted
to take up its quaiters where it
pleases. In the morning, it
drives the ducks towaterand the
chickens to their feeding-ground ;
and if any should presume to
wander, they are quickly brought
to a senSo of duty by a aharp re-
minder from the atrocg beek of
the vigilant agami. At night, the
The whole of a day was
spent recently at Bridge-
port, Conn., by five men in
trimming tho feet of two
elephants. The operation
is performed, the New Haven
Register says, once on tha road,
once in the fall, and again in tho
spring. The sole of an elephant's
foot ia covered with a thick, horny
fcubstance, which as it grows
thicker, tends to contract and
crack, often laming tho animal.
At the timo of trimming the ele-
phant stands on three legs and
places the foot to be operated upon
across a large tub. Two men
hold the leg down, and one stands
at the animal's head to prevent
him from turning. Then with a
two-foot drawing knife one man
shaves off great pieces of bono
from the sole of the foot. The ele-
phant holds the foot high of his
own accord, and after the opera-
tion he flourishes his trunk,
trumpets, and expresses sincere
ihhnkt.— Scientific American.
^t49liN9
r
RRPRINTKD STORIKS. KKOM TIIK "NOHTIIKHN MKSSKNOKR.
day WM
Bridge-
re men in
of two
operation
w Haven
the road,
ain in tho
elephant's
lick, horny
it groWB
itract and
ho animal.
ng the ele-
legs and
rated npon
Two men
lone8tand»
to prevent
Then with a
fe one man
|;es of bono
ot. The ele-
high of his
T the opera-
his trunk,
sses sineore
utri'-an.
RAIf.VVALONA.
Ranavninnn wat only a tiiui k
woman hum and hrud an iilolu-
tcr, quutMi ot a h>'«thi<n rai-« dc-
■itised and invalidud hy ii (('''at
( hristian nation ssa pi<o|ilo worth
of no n spect, |MMHH>«iijn)( mi ri)(hlK.
Itut Uanavalon.t wiu i-vcry iiuli
asuvvroitfii, Meaturod by h'-rop-
iiortaniiips, hy hi>r stoailriuit ud-
huranco to tho right, hy whul iihi>
*cconipliiih<>tl for her peopitt hihI
for Christianity and civilixitlioii,
thia black sovereign is worthy to
ba raiikiitl amongst tho good and
trua of tho world's host w)iiti>
queens, hot hor name h« enroll-
ed with those wountn of royal
IKwition for whom Ihn worM has
an honorahlu plaoo in its history.
Ranavalona camo tho throne of
Madagascar in 186H. Ilor coun-
try waa jnat emerging from the
moat cruel |>ersecution Christians
have sulTorod since the
days of Nero, ('hristian-
ity had been intrmlucod
under the reign of Rada-
ma,who began tho unifica-
tion of tho kingdom. Ho
welcomed tho Christian
teachers and nxliortod his
people to rocoivo their in-
struction. It will hol[i
you, ho mid, it will holp
the country iind it will
help KaiUniii Upon Ut\-
dania's doitth in 182'^ his
senior wife, UiiiiiiVHloiia I
seized the throne, and lie-
oame the " Hloo<ly Miiry"
of tho Malagiwy. A oou-
sidornhle number of con-
rertN had been won, mid
it became ItanaviiloiiVs
chief object to restore
heathenism in its grossest
form and destroy utterly
tho last vestii^es of Chris-
tianity. Kdict after edict
went forth against tho
followers of tho mission-
aries. They wore tortur-
ml, thoy were slain with
tho sword, thoy were im-
paled, thoy were thrown
headlong down a preci-
pice, thoy were burned.
Thoy pori8ho<l liy hnn-
ilro<U and thoiwancls, giv-
ing an bignal proof of their
faitlifuln^Bs as can bo
found in Fox's " Book of tho Mar-
tyrs." After tho death of tho
wickoil queen, in 1861, there
camo n cessation of persoeution,
an<l some degree of tolerntiou was
enjoyed until tho coronation of
Kanavalona 11. in 18*J'5, Slu'
was a worthy daughter of a .lezo-
M mother. Sho had esix>u»od
tho cause if not tho faith of the
Christians, and was crowned
with Christian services by a
uativo minister. Her address on
that occasion showed that sho had
been a close student of the Bible,
which had been widely scattered
before tho potsecntions. Tho
next year sho was married to her
\>rime minister, and both were
.''ublicly baptized.
Ranavalona not only oecame
tho friend an>l prnmnior of ChrH
tianily ; sho raustxl sjl tho niate
ldol>, it It RUggoslioii (if II pnlillc
meoling III the raplliil, to ho burn-
ed . yet sli,) did not III turn be
conio a persorutor of tli,< h< ulhen
Under her boniifii rule all her
KUbjerts Were protoiled, and
civiliiialloii ailvsiK'i'd willi rspid
ttrid
lilthl
tho Kr»n< li Admiral bombsnlefl
Tamstivo Ihn (.jiiHon waa urifmt
lo expel all his counlryrooii Iroin
her riipilnl Her reply was :
"Wo are (/'hristiani, an<l must
romein)H<r at th's trying tune that
wo arosoto actax Itocuun s Cliris-
liHiis. Thoy giiYo our trieiuN nt
Maianira an hour Wo will give
sjanira an hour
She bi'itaii Hi oiieo |o ihein live days, and not a liiiir of
II tho burdennol'ihe I [ilo ibeir heads, rumew bur, is to bo
The (i|iprosslvi> lealiire* of Ihe'hsrined
inililiiry sjrstoui were removed. I When then |>anic-slrirkon
ollieer-t Wi-re deprived of llieir fdreitfiiers loll Antaiiannrivo, tlie
foudalory rights ; iho rovenuo, or natives could nut bo induoeit to
rather Iho system of public plun-'
dor, was .-olormud , the im|iorta-
lion of Ho«ambi({uo slaves was
prohibited ; domestic tiavory
waa humauiied, the breaking up
of families being prohibited ; tho
manufaclurn and sale of intoxicsl-
ing liciuors were forbidden : tho
peacefnl arts were fostered, and
education was promoted in every
?;o wit
rsr of
with them to Tamalive for
f baing delainiMl as prison-
ers by the invaders. Under
thaao circumstances the Qneon
furnished bearers and gave the
French safu conduct.
What a contrast is presented
by this woman only half m gene-
r.ition removed from heathenism
and the representatives of the
7^^
MABOABET, MOTITER OF MAKTIN LUTHIR.
jwssiblo way.
It is not pretonnod that all those
reforms have been perfectly car-
ried out. The evils of slavery
aud tho rum tralhc arc* still, no
doubt, i-rying evIK. Malaijasy
fcocioty, It rau.'it be rerannbered,
is ritili very imporfceliy oviran-
izeil : and ineae r.re evils which
more oiiliijhtenod ualions have
found it dithcult or impossibli- to
ijet rid of. But tho queen was a
wise and liberal ruler, leading
boforo her people a life of blame-
lessness, of true Christian piety,
of devotion to thi! iiiterests of tho
kingdom. Her Christian spirit
brought shame to tho representa-
tives of a nation which has been
professedly Christian more cen-
turies than hers has years. When
oldest and nest beloved son of the
Church directly descended from
Christ and tho Apostles ! Queen
Ranavalona II . 1.1 dead, and her
iieicrt succeeds her. Tho world
can ask nothiii!^ better of tho now
ruler, who is said to bo hostile to
the French pretension.", than that
shj may bo a worthy successor of
Qiioeii Ranavalona II. — Indepen-
MOLLYS'S WHITE ROSE.
Molly Nelson had a white rose-
bush which was tho prido of her
heart. Never was there a bush
which was more dearly loved nor
more constantly cared for ; and
happy waa little Molly vrben she
had a bud from it to lay beside
«t4»liH«
her mother's pUio, or a rluter o'
roses and ueran''M.i leaves lolsku
to her tearher i a gut.
" I havi been to see Jfasia
Hunter," »aid tister Nell ono
night. " I think I nuver felt to
sorry for uu) child as . lu fur
her,
" Whiit hsH tiappenod f Aro
Iho Hunters in any ffroaler
trouble than usual ? " asked mam-
ma. KverybtMly know that Mr.
Huntvr drink, und Mrs Hunter
wat cross, Hiiil tho children
often went hungry.
Hiiter Ni II went on. Jessie foil
through • hole in tho floor at tho
mill yektirdsy, and has hurt her
back 'Ibo doctor savs it is not
likely sho will ever l>o able to
walk airain. '
Molly's brown eves opened
wide with horror, anil then filled
with tears. Poor, poor Jessio !
A day or two afterwards
mamm asked her to car-
ry a Itltbi basket ol dain-
ties lo Mrs. Hunter's
There was a cup of cua-
lard, a glass of amber
Ielly, and ii loaf of bread.
l<ibbio brought a half-
docen eggs, laid by hin
hens, nnd Nell slippi'd
over everything a doublo
napkin, insi.lo of which
was a beautiful Scriptnro
card with a lovely j,ic-
turo and a lovelier text.
•' I wish I had some-
thing of my very own to
give Jessie,,' said Molly
to herself, " but I haven t
a thing. Not even a bud
is out on my rosebush."
So away she tripped.
The basket was a little
bit heavy, but that sho
did not mind. Her feet
vero light, her hands
were stronff, and her
cheeks were as red as
health could make a girl's
cheeks.
When she camo to
Jessie's house, and went
into tho littlo crowded
room, at one aide of which
was Jessie's bed she felt,
as she said next day,
"just dreadfully." "To
see Jessio lying there so
white and thin and still,
not able to turn, and not ablo to lift
her head from iho pillow, a cripple
for lifo ! Molly left tho nice
things she had brought, and went
soberly homo keeping up a very
busy thinking.
Two daya later any one enter-
ing Jessie's apartment would
have seen i:i the window a cer-
tain thrifty rosebush turning its
leaves to tho sun and holding up
two or three buds ready to bloom.
The sick girl watched it with de-
light.
Molly had kissed it and bidden
it good-bye, and when it was gone
she missed it sadly ; yet there was
a happy feeling in her heart, for
she had done what she could, anu
she knew she would receive the
Master's blessing. — Ex. ^
ih4I
It
f
110
REPRINTED STORIES, FRO VI THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
V
W
THE GIANT SNAPPINa
TURTLE.
In tho accompanying engrav-
ing is represented the North Ame-
rican giant snapping turtle ( Dry.
OHSfxferus). It attains a weight of
about 60 to 80 lbs., and specimens
nearly six feet in length have
been frequently caught. Tho
back is of dark slate blue color
and covered with numerous yel-
low and reddish dots. Tho belly
is white and the head covered
with dark spots. A light
band connects the eyes
and descends on both
sides along the neck to
theshonlderR. Tho chin,
feet, and tail are marbled
white; th« iris of the eye
is of a bright yellow color.
This turtle inhabits
principally, according to
Holbrook, the Savannah
and Alabama rivers, also
the northern lakes, and
even the Hudson River;
Lat it is missing in all
rivers entering the Atlan-
tic between the mouth
of tho Hudson and that
of the Savannah. Into the
great lakes of the North
the turtle was prohibly
brought from the great
Southern rivers, in which
it is indigenous, by the
great inundations, by
which the lUiiioia RiviT
is brought in connect'on
with Lake Michii,'iiu, tho
Pet'.'rs River, and Red
River. Into the Slate ot
New York it probably
emigrated tlirough the
Erie Canal, as before tho
completion of tho latter it
was unknown in Now
York waters.
In most of those rivers,
especially those of thi'
South, this turtle is very
common. In clear, quiet
weather they apjiear in
large numbers atthe sur-
face or ou tho rocks in
tho water sunning ihem-
Kolves. AVheu watchiiicr
for prey, they hiiie uiiilor
roots or stones, and lie
motionless, till eemo small
lish, li.-'ard, or even a
small water bird, ap-
proaches its hiding place.
Then the .somewhat elon-
gated n.^ck darts out sad-
dcnly ; it ik-.\ i misses its
aim. In an instant iho
prisoner i.s .swallowi'(l,aiid
the turtle resumi?s its old
position to repeat tho
same operation, when opporiunity
oilers. They are also great
enemies of ihe youiisf alligators
when llu.se are just hatched.
Thousands of them are devoured
by the voracious turtle.^, which
sixain fall jirey to such of the
gro\.ii up alligators as were
hai)py ciu)U!^h toe.scape.
in May I lie femali's select sandy
^ spots along the shore, mountiu'.,'
i b hills ol I onsi(li;rable size if neces-
«»*»
sity requires it. Hero the eirgs
are deposited. Their calcareous
shells are vei'v fragile, more 83
than those of the eggs of other
sweet water turtles. Very little
is known of the early life of the
young, which are hatched in June.
Among all North American tur-
tles this species is, for culinary
purposes, the most valuable, and
it is therefore extensively hunted.
They are either shot or caught in
nets and with the hook. Grown
little Tommy Gray, as he was
walking in the garden along with
his father.
" Why do you wished him
killed ?" said his father.
" Oh ! because he if such an
ugly thing and lam afraid he will
eat up everything in Iho garden.
You know we killed several bugs
and worms here last evening. I
am sure Ibis toad is lauch worse
than they.
" We killed the bugs and
him and see what he will do."
Tommy looked about, and soon
found three bugs which he plac-
ed near tho toad, and then atood
back a short distance to see the
result. Soon tho buga began to
move away. The toad saw them,
and made a quick forward motion
of his head. He darted out his
tongue and instantly drow them,
one by one into his mouth.
Tommy clapped hii handa with
delight.
" How can such a
clumsy-looking fellow
use his head and tongue
so nimbly ?" said Tommy ;
and he ran off to find
more food for him.
Tho next evening
Tommy went again into
the garden and soon
found Ihe object of his
search ready for his sup-
per. At first ihe toad was
shy, but he soon learned
to sit still while Tommy
placed his food near him.
Then he would dart
out his tongue and eat
the bugs while Tommy
was close hy. Finding
that the boy did not hurt
him, he soon lost all fear,
and became a great pet.
Tommy named him
Humpy, and says ho
would not hiivo him kill-
ed now for anything. —
Ex.
THE C1I.\.NT B.VAPPINO TURTIiE.
spocitnc'is must be handled with
care, -m Ihey deli>nd themselves
(lesper.ntely, and can iiillict dan-
iT'Tous wounds. — /i.i;.
TOMMY LEARNS ABOUT
T0.\1)S
■ ».h, i)apD, see what a great
nijly toad ! Do got n slick and kill
him before he gets nway," said
worms because they were destroy-
ing our flowers and vegetables.
This i)oor toad never destroys a
plant of any kind about the place;
besides, he is one of our best
friends. These insects that are
doing so much harm in our gar-
dens are just what he uses for his
food. I have no doubt that he
kills inor.! of them every day
thiin wu did last evening. If you
can find a live bug, place it near
A PLAN IN LIFE.
" What is your plan in
life, Neddie ?" 1 asked n
small boy, turning flora
his big brothers, who
were talking about theirs,
to which ho and I had
been listening; " what is
yours, Neddie?"
" I am not big enough
for a plan yet," said Ned-
die ; ''but 1 have a pur-
pose."
" That is good ; it is not
every one who has a pur-
pose. What is your pur-
pose, Neddie ?''
"To grow up a good
1)oy, so as to be a good
man, like my father," said
Neddie. And by tho
way ho said it, it was
plain ho meant it. 11 ia
father was n noble Chris-
tian man, and Neddie
could not do better than
follow in his steps, A
boy with snch a purpose
will not fail of his mark.
Jlnnilof Hope Reoiew.
The lovo of God is the source
of every right action and feeling,
so it is theonly principle which ne-
cessarily ennobles the lore of our
fellow-croaturcs. —//annaA More.
Prayer should bo tho key of
the day and tho lock of Iho night. /
— Bithop Berkeley. i
#H9
ill do."
>nd Boon
te pl»c-
n stood
see the
began to
iw them,
d motion
out his
\w them,
mouth,
ids with
such a
fellow
id tongue
I Tommy,
f to find
im.
evening
igain into
nd sooji
ect of his
»r bis Bup-
,e toad was
>n learned
le Tommy
near him.
ould dart
le and eat
le Tommy
. Finding
id not hurt
ost all fear,
I great pet.
mcd him
Bays ho
\-c him kill-
ftuylhing. —
IN LIFE.
youT plan in
" I asked n.
urning fiom
•others, who I
about theirs,
o and I had
ig ; " what is
o?"
t big enough
et," said Ned-
havo a l>ur-
food ; it is not
ho has a pur-
is your pur-
0?"
up a good
to be a good
y father," said
ud by the
d it, it was
neaut it. His
a noble Chris-
and Neddio
lo better than
lis steps, A
»ch tt purpose
1 of his mark.
view.
d is the source
m and feeling,
iciple which no-
the lovo of our
Hannah More.
bo the key of
bck of tho night.
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM TilE 'NORTHERN MESSENGER."
Ill
"I'LL DO IT;" OR, THE
BROKEN JAR.
In the early days of the temper-
ance movement, Mr. Joseph Livo-
sey, of Preston, issued some sirik-
ing broadsheets, which he desired
should be posted on tho walls ot
thoroughfares, and, when practi-
cable, placed in the windows of
shopkeepers, so that passers-by
might read the letter-press.
A worthy tailor in Glasgow,
whose shop was near to some of
the crowded closes, said to him-
self, "I cannot help this good
cause by public speaking, 1 have
struggled in the water. Ho could
swim, but he stood coolly, doing
nothing. The crowd were amazed
and' indignant. "Why does he
stand looking," they said, " and
struggles and strives, works and
wpi'ps, he can no more save him-
self from hell than the drowning
man couiil from the watery grave
that was inevitable bht for the
not jump in and save him ?" The strong arm of the brave and wise
drowning man had sunk twice, sailor. !t is this that the '^Vord
and was about to throw up his of God states so distinctly, clearly,
arms and go down for the last ' and constantly : " For when we
time, when, to tho surprise of the ' worn yot without strength, in duo
people, tho sailor jumped in and tinio Christ died for tho angc dly."
bore him lo the surface and to
safety.
Now the people could under-
stand tho sailor's apparent indif-
' his
" "Without strength" is the Di-
vine statement as to man. This
leaves the .ground clear for Christ
to come in and be a perfecv. Sa-
viour. And as the sailor saved
_ . . fpT'.nce, and tho wisdom of
no talent for that ; but as hundreds I course. The fact is. tho drowning the man when ho had given up,
of people pass my window day 'man was too lively and heavy to so does God through Chr'st, and
by day, I will put ono of Mr.
Livesey's bills in one of the
panes of my window. That
pane shall be given up for
bills, tracts, or other papers,
wi*h the hope that by God's
blessing, somo passers-by may
be induced to read, and to tarn
over a new leaf in life."
In the above - mentioned
close lived a man who was
noted for his hard drinking.
Every day ho might be seen
with a brown jar in his hand
on his way to the whiskey-
shop, where it was daily re-
filled. He had to pass tho
tailor's shop. His eye rested
on tho bill. Ho stopped and
read it throuufh, and then
passed on to tho whiskey-shop.
This occurred several niorn-
inffs, and the tailor from his
inner room was able to scan
the man's face without 1 eing
himself observed. He noticed
that the man's interest in the
paper increased, and by the
twitching of his face it was
evident that the words were
making a deep impression on
his mind.
One morning the tailor was
surprised by seeing the man
with the brown jar again read-
ing the bill, and then heard
him say, " I'll do it ; I will, 1
will ;" at the same time rais-
ing the brown jar high over
his head, he dashed it down
on the flags into a thousand
pieces, which drew the tailor
to his shop-door.
It wus the turning-point'in
the man's life. With the aban-
donment of tho whiskey, tho
man's mind was turned to
better and higher things. The
tailor, who was a Christian man,
took him kindly by the hand,
prayed with him, and cheered
him in his new course, and ere
long the noted drinker became a
converted character. — From Illus-
trated F>.tj Leaf No. 164.
THE
' 1 LL 1)0 IT ;
I WILL, 1 WILL."
WITHOUT STRENGTH.
A large company of peopl^
were gathered at *\a eud cf a
wharf on the look-out, when one
of the number ;'ell into the deep
water. Thcie wae great excite-
ment, but uo ono dared to jump
in. But there stood an able-
bodied sailor right over hiir us he
make it prndent to plunce into I Hi.s precious atoning death, save
the water niter him. He waited I every one who comes to this con
until tho man had no strength
elusion, that ho is not only a sin-
and then res-|ner, but also without strength.
Such a one will readily appreci-
ate the strong arm and saving
grace of the Saviour of sinners,
GRAY HEAD BY THE
HEARTH
A private letter from a lady
who is spending the year among
the peasants of Tyrol, says • " The
morning after our arrival, wo
were awakened by the sou nd of
a violin and flutes under the win-
dow, and hurrying down, foand
the little house adorned as for a
feast, — garlands ever the door
and wreathing a high chair which
was set in state.
" The table was already covered
with gifts, brought by the young
people whose music v/e had heard
The whole neighborhood v/ere
kinsfolk, and these gifts came
from uncles and coocins in
every far-off degree They
were very simple for the
donors are poor — knitted
gloves, a shawl, baskets of
flowers, jars of fruit, loaves of
bread ; but upon all some little
message of love was pinned
"Is there a bride in this
h^'use ?" I asked of my land-
lord.
" 'Ach, nein !' he said ' Wo
do not make such a pother
about our young people It is
the grandmother's birthday '
" The grandmother, in her
spectacles, white apron and
high velvet cap, was a heroine
all day, sitting in state to re-
ceive visits, and dealing out
slices from a sweet loaf to each
who came. I could not but
remember certain grandmo-
thers at heme, just as much
loved as she, probably, but
whose dull, sad lives were
never brightened by p.iy such
pleasure as this ; and I thought
we could learn much from
these poor mountaineers " —
Youths' Companion.
The Range of Human
knowledge has increased so
enormously that no brain can
grapple with it ; and the man
who would know one thing
well must have the courage
to be ignornnt of a thousand
things, however attractive or
inviting. Broad culture, many-
sidedness, are beautiful things
■ to contemplate ; but it is the
narrow-edged men,— the men
of single and intense purpose,
who steel their souls against
all things else, — who accom-
plish the hard work, of the world,
and who are in demand when
hard work is to be done."
I
! ' am:
even to struggle
cued him.
Now this affords an illustration
of tiod'." wiiy in saving a sinner
God s way may bo to wait - and
not with iudillerenee surely?—
until the sinner finds out that he
1 iu i„ „„,.- «, liolr. savino- nun • jdv jfrttoo ye »io
..as no strength to sa^e or help , ^^,^ ^^^j^^^ . j.^^^^ » ^^^ ^j^;^ ^^^^
suv: .Mmselt. \^^ yourselves, it is the gift of
It is ono thing to own ouoself (jod ; not of wor.ks, lest any man
a ^nlner, and quite another to gi,(,„jjj boast" — Word and Work.
conlesK that ono is without j ^
strength to save himself. Buti ...
such IS tho ruin of man, and such 1 Hkak instruction and be wise,
bis imi.oteuey, that though he! and reluse it not.— Prov viii, 38.
the word, to be the Saviour, and
to give Him all the glory for
saving hirn " By grace ye are
WiTiUNO Hearts.— Tho small-
ness of our gifts need not di tor us
r allow" Him" in every sense o'*-' from giving, for the Bookdo«w not
#f49|tH^
tell us that as many as had plenty
gave, but as many as were willing-
hearted, " and ei ry one whose
heart stirred her up and whose
spirit made willing." It is that
willing-heartednesswe need most
of all, that heartstirring that will
make us not willing, but anxious
to give all that we have and all
we are *. Him who hath loved
US.
•■>rv^
y 112
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHER N MESSENGE R.'
OBBBES AND THBIR NBSTd.
A fierce warfare is continually
waned against these beautiful
birds, which threatens them with
extermination, not for their flesh,
which is generally coarse and
Mshy, but for their brilliant plu-
mage, which is a farorite adorn-
laeiit for ladies' bonnets and
dresMS. There are more than
twenty species of the gro^'^, in all
parts of the world. They are
aquatic birds, walking with
great difficulty on the land, and
are osnally found in small flocks
OB the sea-coast and the shores
of fresh-water lakes. They mi-
grate in summer to the arctic re-
gions to breed and rear their
of Sir John Lubbock) is devoted
to work, and at the present time
contains a menaa^erie of ants.
Between 30 and 40 species are re-
presented by separate nosts, plac-
ed under glass, carefully shaded
from light, and surrounded by
water to prevent the interesting
insects from escaping and over-
running the house. It is pleasant
to see 8ir John, arrayed in his
workina; suit of gray stufl", gently
uncovering the nests and replac-
ing the screens quickly lest the
animals' should take alarm at the
influx of light, and be thrown in-
to disorganization by the thought
that their nest is attacked It ie
curious to observe that these tiny
creatures have animals with them.
— making themselves useful as
scavengers. A chat with the pro-
prietor of this workroom soon dis-
pels the illusions of the unscien-
tific mind as to the industry of
the ant. It is an industrious ani-
mal in the main— but there are
ants and ants. The large red
species found in Central Europe
is not industrious at all, being a
purely fightins aristocrat and
slaveholder. She (the fighting
ants are Amazons) makes preda-
tory excursions and carries of the
puixB of another species, and
brings them up as slaves. As Sir
John Lubbock points out, the
slaveholders present a striking
insUnce of the degrading ten-
dency of slavery. They can
of natural history, have all been
verified at High Elms by obser-
vations which confirm those of
Hnber in almost every case.
YE DID IT NOT.
Not to do that which ought to
be done is just as sinful as to do
that which ought not to he done.
If one who had not before given
serious thought to this subject,
were to go through the Bible,
concordance in hand, for the sake
of finding out how largely sins
of omission are made the eronnds
of condemnation, the result would
probably startle him. Over and
over again the accusation comes
in the Torm of a negative : " The
UKEBE8 AND THSIB NESTS.
young Thpir nests are made of
grasses lined with down, which
are placed among the reeds, and
rise and fall withtho water. The
eogs are three or lour in number
Tney are excellent swiminors and
divers, swimming under the
•water tor a considerahle distance
in pursiiit of crame, and sinking
beneath the surface, leaving only
their bills out, at the approach of
danger. They feed on aquatic
animals and plants.
SIR JOHN LUHHOCK AND
HLS ANTS.
The London Worlil says that
one of the fiest rooms on the first
floor of High Elms (the residence
which, it may be presumed, are
useful to them in some way, as
the ants forbear to attack them.
They are mostly of the beetle race,
and some, like the little clavi'^er,
are quite blind, possibly from con-
firmed subterranean habits, and
are only found in ants' nests, the
proprietory of which take as much
interest in them as they do in
their own young. Apparently
ants have a considerable variety
of domestic animals, among which
the blind Platyafthrm is conspic-
uous, as well as the Beckia albinos,
the latter of which was fnlly de-
scribed by Sir John Lubbock,
who suggests that perhaps these
two act the part of the Constanti-
nople dog and the turkey buzzard
neither wash nor feed themselves.
They have lost the greater part
of their instincts; their artof build-
ing; their domestic habits (for
they take no care of their young) ;
their industry (for they take no
part in providing themselves with
food) : and it the colony changes
its nest the rulers are carried to
the new one by their slaves. Even
their structure has altered ; their
mandibles have lost their teeth
and have become mere nippers,
terrible in war, but useless for
other purposes. So helpless have
they become, except for fighting
purposes, that if deprived of their
slaves they actually die o'.' starva-
tion. These curious facts, which
sound almost like the romance
diseased have ye not strengthened,
neither have ye healed that which
was sick, neither have ye bound
up that which was broken,
neither have ye brought again
that which was driven away,
neitber have ye sought that which
was lost." It is not enough to
live a respectable life, doing no
particular harm to any one ; the
Bible demand is that every on ^
should do all the good that ht.
properly can. The final ground
of condemnation, as shown in the
inspired description of the last
Judgment, hinges on the words,
" Te did it not." Unless one is
ready to do all the good that ho
rightly can, he is not free from
this condemnation. ^
%m
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM TEE ''NORTHERN ME.'-SENGER.'
being
girls in her class, Emma
one ot the absentees.
" Where conld the Lowell girls
have been? And Snsie and
Jessie ? ' said Florrie, referring to
the absent scholars, when she
FINE FEATHERS.
The Hemlock Street Sunday-
school, to which Florrie Warren
and Mabel Chandler belonged, was
a thoroughly live school ; it gare
liberally to all missions, but was, „. .
especially interested in the poor T'"** '^ t "^ """ ""'tween her
of the city The boys were ready <=<"»»"» Lizzie and Mabel Chandler.
to give their torn books or dis- "J^"? "°** ^ sick, I think,"
carded toys to some little urchin, r^P'jf^ Mabel.
who would appreciate them very " Snppose we go now and find
highly, and the girls exhibited a!"'''- " <ne7 <"•«. perhaps we can
kindly rivalry in the many I '^o *S™^''""?, '^°'' '***'"•"
• "Very well. And yon will go
with us, will you not, Lizzie ? "
Mabel asked.
" I think not ; mamma will
expect me at home."
" By the way, Lizzie, what has
become of your lovely new spring
suit ? I was surprised to see you
in that plain old gray dress these
two lovely Sundays. Did'nt the
n*w dress fit you ? "
" Oh yes, beautifully ! Mamma
says I look as if I had been melted
aud poured into it."
" Then for pity sakes why did'nt
you wear it ? The one you'vegot
on is real dowdy ! " cried Florrie.
" It is clean, is'nt it ?" laughed
Lizzie.
many j
stitches they took for the ragged
orphans or the neglected waifs.
And not content with feeding,
clothing, or amusing their less
fortunate neighbors, these boys
and girls used their utmost efforts
to assiat their teachers and super-
intendent in gathering into the
Sunday-school numbers of the
untaught children. It wasa point
of honor with them to greet every
tattered or ahabby new-comer with
a amile and pleasant word, to find
the hymns for them, or to explain
what was to be the topic of the
leaaon for the day.
I presume it is needless to say
that the refreshments which were
served at the Christmas tree and
the annual June picnic were of a
quality that gladdened hungry
eyes, and a quantity that supplied
both yawning stomachs and
pockets.
One beautiful Sunday in spring,
Florrie and Mabel (who lived in
adjoining houses) started together
for school, both ofthem dressed in
handsome new garmentii Florrie,
who was fair, looked exceedingly
pretty in a soft gray cashmere
polonaise, elaborately trimmed
with blue silk and looped over a
blue skirt, aud her golden curls
were covered by a gray chip hat
ornamented with long blue
feathers. Mabel was a decided
brunette, and her costume was of
ecru cashmere and cardinal silk ;
her hat matched it. Two hand-
somer costumes or two prettier
little girla could not ba found in
the city
" Shall we call for Emma Miller ?"
asked Mabel, as they drew near
the narrow, dismal street where
poor Mrs. Miller and her five
children lived
" Have we got time ? " Florrie
asked, thus generously giving
" I am afraid so. And never
again, summer or winter, will I
wear such costly clothes as these
to church or Sunday-school."
And she was as good as her
word. — Frances E. Wadleigh tn
Child's Paper.
SILENT INFLUENCE.
"I have no influence," said Elsie
Lee to her friend. Miss Tomsin.
" Why, I am so timid when in
company with others that I
hardly daro raise my eyes or
open my lips.''
" Thnt may be," replied the
older lady, " and yet y*n w*
always exerting influence wher
ever you go. You cannot help
yourself. An hour ago I bought
a little bunch of violets from a
German flower girl, and I set
them on yonder shelf, besiOe my
dear mother's picture. It is a
very tiny bunch, and a person
entering the room would very
likely not see them, for they do
not challenge attention. But
every nook and corner of the
apartment feels their presence,
for their fragrance is pervading
the atmosphere. So it is with
jhis shoulders. In doing this ho
asked for all, but I chose to keep
back a few for specia^are. I soon
found them no little hinderance to
the freedom of my movement ; but
still I would not give them up
until my guide, returning to mo
where I sat resting for a moment,
kindly but firmly demanded that
I should give him everything but
vaj Alpine stock. Putting them
with the utmost care upon his
shoulders, with r look of intense
satisfaction he led the way. And
now in my freedom, I found I
could make double speed with
double safety.
Then a voice spoke inwardly :
" foolish, wilful heart, hast thou,
indeed, indeed, given up thy last
burden ? Thou hast no need to
carry them, nor even the right."
I saw it all in a flash ; and then,
a« I leaped lightly from rock to
rock down the steep mountain
side, I said within myself, "Aud
even thus will I follow Jesus, my
Guide, myBurden-bearer. I will
rest all my care upon him, for he
carelh for me." — Sarah Smiley.
" Of course it is clean. But why
wear it 1 I am just dying to find
out , are not you, Mabel ? "
And Mabel too, in the extrava-
gant fashion in which girls talk
professed herself " dying " of
curiosity
" You see we've got so many
poor girls— f#a/ poor girls who
never have nice clothes — in our
Mabel a chance to consult hernewi Sunday-school, that mamma don't
watch.
" Plenty ! If we do not call for
her, somebody may think wo are
too proud to go there in our hand-
some dresses."
Emma was not quite ready, but
like to see me put ou my hand-
some drefses or hats to wear
there; slio says that poor girls
have feelings as well as rich ones.
and that their shabby apparel will
look shabbier than ever beside
the two girls waitei for her ; when my silk or velvet. Sho says that
she at length appeared she seemed I she has heard poor poopla sn>
annoyed or embarrassed about that they were ashamed to go to
something, and hardly spoke one
word in answer to their friendly
church in their rags and sit be&ide
elogantly-dressed people ; I know
chatter Whatever the cloud upon I should feel so too. And it is not
Emma's spirits may have been, it I right to do anything, especially in
seemed to afl°ect all the rest of her G^d's house, which will hurt
class ; Florrje and Mabel were the
only two out of Miss Grace's seven
pupils who appeared at all cheerful
The next Sunday was as bright
and charming as its prediicossor ;
oni)
ipap
T
people's feelings."
" Oh Mabel ! " exclaimed
Florrie, with blushes in her
cheeks, "can it bo that our
finery was the cause of those
yet MiM Grace had only three ! girls staying away to-day?"
you, my dear. You love your
Saviour, and you try to serve
him. You think you cannot
speak for him, but if you live for
him, and with him, in gentleness,
patience, and self-denial, that is
better than talking. It does more
good. The other evening Jerry
Halcomh, who is thoughtless and
giddy, made a jest of a verso of
Scripture in your hearing. You;
wished to protest against his act,
and tried to do so, but the words j
would not come. Yet your!
pained look, your quick blush,:
your instinctive indignant gesture, '
spoke for you, and tlie young man !
turned and said, ' I beg your par- 1
don. Miss Elsi^v' Was not this a:
proof that he saw and felt your ;
condemnation ? " — Chrh. Woman
CASTING ALL YOUR CARES
UPON HIM.
In tho summer of 1S78 I de-
scended tho Rhigi with one of the
mostfaithfulofthoold Swiss guides
Beyond the service of the day, he
gave me unconsciously a lesson
for life. His first care was to put
my wrap and other burdens upon
A SHATTERED TESTAMENT
—A RELIC OF TEL-EL-
KEBIR.
During the battle of Tel-el-Ke-
bir Private William Room of the
Highland Light Infantry, had a
marvellous escape. In jumpiug
into the trenches a bullet from the
Egyptians struck him in tho
pouch-bag nt his side, going
through a Testament he was
carrying with him. This fortu-
nately changed the direction of the
bullet, which otherwise would
have gone through his stomach.
As it was the ball entered his hip,
and came out of the inner part of
his thigh. Mr. Room is now do-
ing well. — Our engraving and the
above particulars are taken from
a photograph published by
Messrs Hills and Saunders, Gros-
venor Fine Art Gallery, who in-
form us that a framed copy has
been sent to Her Majesty —
Grathic.
WAYS TO DO GOOD.
Pray for individuals by name.
Send well-selected tracts by mail.
Loan " Baxter's Call to the Uncon-
verted." Invito your neighbor to
church. Persuade the unsaved to
attend prayer-meeting. Be fear-
less in expressing Christian views.
Visit the sick, and p'-ay with
them. Benefit the poor, then win
them to Christ. Urge church-
members to take religious papers.
Seek the conversion of thoughtful
children. Remind tho " back-
slider " of his solemn vows. Show
the " reformed " man his need of
Christ. Converse of Jesus at
length with willing hearers. Ex-
hort the convicted to yield and
turn. Look after new converts.
Keep near tho Saviour yourself.
To general consecration add tho
special consecration of one-tenth
of your income, one-seventh of
your time, and all your thought- ^
fulness. — Am. Mettengrr, ^
•H»
REPRINTED STORIEvS, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
1^
ENGRAVED EGG^S.
Some time ago there waa a
man who stood upon tho street
corners and in the public squares
selling egg shells upon which
were engraved names, devices, or
flowers. The art of engraving
npon eggs is connected with a
carious and little known histori-
cal fact.
In the month of August, 1808,
at the time of the Spanish war,
there was found in the patriar-
chal church of Lisbon an egg
upon the shell of which was an-
nounced the approaching exter-
mination of the French. This
fact caused a lively fermentation
in the minds of the superstitious
Portuguese population, and came
near causing an uprising.
The French commander re-
medied the matter very ingeni-
ously by distributing throughout
the city thousands of eggs that
bore engraved upon them a con-
tradiction of the prediction. The
Portuguese, deeply astonished,
did not know what to think of it,
but thousands of eggs giving the
lie to a prediction engraved upon
one only, had the power of the
majority. In addition, a few
days afterward, posters put up on
all the street corners pointed out
the manner in which the miracle
was performed. Tho mode of
doing it is very simple.
It consists in writing upon the
egg shell with wax or varnish or
simply with tallow, and then im-
mersing the eirg in some weak
acid, such, for example, as vine-
gar, dilute hydrochloric acid, or
etching liquor. Everywhere
where the viirnish or wax has
not protected the shell, tho lime
of the latter is decomposed and
dissolved in the acid, and the
writing or drawing remains in
relief. Although the modus iiper-
an-ii presents no dilficulty, a few
pre^aulif *•■' lUst •>■; taken in
oro' • ' /'cessful oil a first
<;"" .- ■. .11.
In tho lirst place, as the eggs
that are to be engraved are
Ui-ually previously blown, so that
they may be pre-
served without al-
teration, it is neces-
sary before immers-
ing them in the acid
to plug up the aper-
tures in the extremi-
ties with a bit of
beeswax ; and, more-
over, as the eggs are
very light, they must
be held at the bottom
of the vessel full of
acid by means of a
thread fixed to a
weight or wound
round the extremity
of a glass rod.
Ifthe acid is very
dilute, the operation,
though it takes a
little longer, gives
better results. Two
or three minutes
usually suffice to give
characters that have
8affi.cient relief. — La Nature.
$
m^
DROWNING THE SQUIRREL.
When I was about six years
old, one morning going to school, ! his body in order to crush the life
I want you to remember this as
long as you live; and when
tempting to destroy any little ani-
mal or bird, to think of what I
have said. God does not allow
us to kill his creatures for our
pleasure."
More than forty years have
since passed, and I have never
forgotten what the good old man
said, nor have I ever wantonly
killed the least animal for amuse-
ment since. — Sf lee ted
THE CAPE BUFFALO.
The Cape bnffalo is a formid-
able animal, a little larger than
an ordinary ox, but possessed of
much greater strength. It is mo-
rose, lowering, and ill-tempered ;
terrible in outward aspect and a
dangerous neighbor. It has an
unpleasant habit of remaining
quietly in its lair until the unsus-
pecting traveller passes close to
its place of concealment, when it
leaps suddenly upon him filled
with rage.
When it has succeeded in its
attack it first tosses the unhappy
victim in the air, then kneels upon
a ground-squirrel ran into his out of him, then butts at the
hole in the ground before me. : corpse until it has given vent to
They like to dig holes in some ; its insane fury, and ends by lick-
place where they can pat oat i ing the mangled limbs until it
their heads to see if danger is strips off the flesh with its rougn
near. I thought, now I shall tongue. Sometimes the animal
hav( Sne fun. As there was a { is so recklessly furious in its un-
stream of water just at hand, I ; reasoning anger that it actually
determined to pour water into ; blinds itself by its heedless rush
the hole till it should be full, and ! through formidable thorn bushes,
e j.u» i:4i.i« .«;»..i »« """""' which are 80 common in Southern
\ ;
force the little animal to come
out, so that I might kill it. I was
soon pouring water in on the
poor squirrel. I could hear it
struggle, and said :
" Ah, my fine fellow, I will
soon have you out now."
Just then I heard a
voice behind me : " Well
my boy, what have you
got there ?" I turned and
saw one of my neighbors,
a good old man, with
long, white locks, that
had seen sixty winters.
"Well," said I, "there
is a ground-squirrel in
here, and I am going to
drown him out."
Said he : " When I was
a little boy, more than
fifty years ago, I was en-
gaged one day , just as you
are, drowning a squirrel ;
and an old man, such as I
am, came along and said
to me, ' You are a little
boy. Now, if you were
down in a narrow hole
like that, and I should
come and pour water
down upon you, would
you not think I was
cruel ? God made the
little squirrel, and life is
as sweet to it as to you.
Why torture to death a
little innocent creature
thatOod has made?"' He
added ; " I have never for-
gotten that, and never
shall. Now, my dear boy,
Africa.
Although frequently found in
large herds on the plains, the
buffalo is principally a resident
of the bash ; here he follows the
paths of the elephant or rhino-
ceros, or makes a road for himself.
Daring the evening, night, and
early morning he roams about
the open country and gorges, but
when the sun has risen high, or
if he has cause for alarm, the glens
and coverts nrre Bought,and amidst
their shady *br aches he enjoys
repose.
The-flesh of the Cape buffalo is
not in great request even among
the Kaffirs, who are in no wise
particular as to their diet. The
hide, however, is exceedingly
valuable, being used for tho
manufacture of sundry leathern
implements where great strength
is required without much flexibil-
ity, — Scientific American,
1 Feel convinced that every
man has given him of God much
more than he has any idea of,
and that he can help on the
world's work more than ho knows
of What we want is, the single
eye that we may see what our
work is, the humility to accept it,
however lowly, the faith to do it
for God, the perseverance to go
on till death. — Norman McLeud.
Amono the xoKKj beaatifal
things seen at Rome is a bit of
glass like the solid rim of a tum-
bler, a transparent glass, a solid
thing, which, when exhibited, is
lifted up so as to show that there
is nothing concealed ; but in the
centre of the glass is a drop of
colored glass, perhaps as large aa
a pea, mottled like a dock, finely
mottled with the shifting colored
hues of the neck, and which even
a miniature pencil coold not do
more perfectly.
CAPE BUFFALO.— (Bwia/MS Caffer.)
T
^H»
i!
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
115
HOW PINS ARE MADE.
When you look at one of those
little insiKnificsnt pins, do yon
oyer think that a gwat deal of
trouble was taken to get it jast
right? Well, it takes a great
deal of work to make a perfect
pin.
First, a reel of brass wire is
taken of suitable thickunss. The
wire passes over a strain* .ning
board, after which it is i \ by
two jaws, and a cutter v amis
and cuts it off, leaving a project-
ing part for a head. On the with-
drawal of the cutter a hammer
flies forward and makes a
head on the pin ; then the
jaws open and the pins
drop on a finely ground
metal plate, with the heads
upward, until the end to be
pointed comes into contact
with a cylindrical roller
with a grinding surface,
which soon puts a fine point
on the pins. They then fall
into a box ready to receive
them, and are ready for the
second stage. After they are
yellowed or cleaned, they
are tinned, or whitened, as
it is called. The pins are
now ready to be placed in
papers. One girl feeds a
machine with pins, and
another supplies the ma-
chine with paper. The pins
fall into a box the bottom of
which is made of small,
square steel bars, sufficiently
wide apart to let the shank
of the pin fall through, but
not the head. As soon as the
pins have fallen through the
bottom of the box and the
rows are complete, the bot-
tom detaches itself, and row
after row of pins is sent at
regular interals to be placed
in the papers. Meanwhile
the paper has been properly
folded and pierced to receive
the pins, which by the nicest
imaginable adjustmentscome
exactly to their places.
Pins were first used in
Ei^landin the 15th century.
They were first made of iron
wire, but in 1640 brass pins
were brought over from
France by Catherine
Howard, Queen of Henry
VIII. At first pins were
made by filing a piece of
wire, and by twisting the
other end.
There were several inventions
previously for holding together
parts of the dress, such as
buckles, brooches, clasps, hooks,
etc. They are very costly to
make,- but our readers think
nothing now-a-days of a pin, un-
less they happen to sit on the
point of it, in which case thev
usually say what they think witn
out being questioned. — Treasure
IVove,
MAKING GL0BE8.
The material of a globe is a
thick, pulpy paper like soft straw
board, and this is formed into
two hemispheres from disks. A
flat disk is cut in gores, or radical
pieces, from centre to circumfer-
ence, half of the gores being re-
moved and the others brought to-
gether, forming a hemispherical
cup. These disks are gored un-
der a cutting press, the dies of
which are so exact that the gores
come together at their edges to
make a perfect hemisphere. The
formation is also done by a press
twelve sections, each of lozenge
shape, the points extending from
pole to pole, exactly as though the
peel of an orange was cut through
from stem to bud in twelve equal
divisions. These maps are ob-
tained in Scotland generally, al-
though there are two or three
establishments otherwheres which
produce them. The paper of
these maps is very thin but tena-
cious, and is held to the globe by
glue. The operator — generally a
woman — begins at one pole, past-
ing with the left hand and laving
the sheet with the right, working
the operator is so expert in coax-
ing down fulnesses and in expand-
ing s^'anty portions, all the time
keeping absolute relation and per-
fect joining with the other sec*
tions and to their edges. The
metallic work— the equators,meri<
dians and stands — are finished by
machinery. A coat of transpar-
ent varnish over the paper sur-
face completes the work, and thus
a globe is built. — Scientific Ameri'
can.
BUOYS.
Many of our young readers
will be likely to take excur-
sions by water this summer,
and they will notice that
upon entering any harbor
there are buoys of different
ccrtors, on either side of the
channel. Those on the right
hand are invariably painted
red and those on the left,
black. A buoy with horizon-
tal stripes of both red and
black indicates the centre of
a very narrow channel, to
which a vessel should keep
as close as possible. Red
and black vertical stripes
show the locality of spits, or
small points of land running
into the sea, and of reefs. A
buoy having red and black
checks is to give warning
against a rock or somie other
obstruction. In case of two
such obstructions, with a
channel between, the buoy
on the right will have red
and white checks, and the
one on the left, black and
white checks. A green
buoy is used to mark wrecks
and has the word "wreck"
painted in white letters upon
it. By the way, would it
not be a nice plan to have
boys so marked that one
could tell at a glance what
they are good for?. Indeed
we believe they are if one
looks sharp. — Congregation-
alisl.
I
OUTLINE DRAWING LESSON FOR THE YOUNO.
{From a photjgraph).
Hb who waits to do a great
deal of ^ood at once will never
do any thing.— SamiMi Johnson.
with hemispherical mould and
die, the edges of the gores being
covered with glue. Two of these
hemispheres are then united by
glue and mounted on a wire, the
ends oT which are the two axes of
the finished globe. All this work
is done while the paper is in a
moist state. After drying, the
rough paper globe is rasped down
to a surface by coarse sand-paper,
followed by finer paper, and then
receives a coating of paint or
enamel that will take a clean,
smooth finish.
The instructive portion is a
map of the world, printed in
along one edge to the north or
other pole, coaxing the edge of
the paper over the curvature of
the globe with an ivory spatuki,
and working down the entire
paper to an absolutely smooth
surface.
As there are no laps to these
lozenge sections the edges must
absolutely meet, else there would
be a mixed up mess, especially
among the islands of some of the
freat archipelagoes and in the ar-
itrary politicalborders of the na-
tions. This is probably the most
ex*ct work in globe-making, and
yet it appears to be easy because
THE KITCHEN-GOD.
Among the many gods of
the Chinese is the kitchen-
god. They put up a new
one every New Year's Day,
when they burn the old one.
They think that this god
takes care of everything in
the kitchen ; and if the fire
don't burn, or the bread is bak-
ing to fast, or there is any trouble,
they scold and beat the god.
When he is burned, they think
he goes to heaven, and tells all
that has happened in their
kitchen for a year ; so sometimes
they daub molasses on his mouth
before they burn him, and they
think then he can't tell. What
sad ideas these people have of
God and of Providence !
EvEBY duty which is bidden
to wait returns with seven fresh
duties at its baok. — Charles Kings
ley.
^H» liiM
Tll6
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHEm MESSENGER."
— «Hft
iil.Kf,. T
A PINE-APPLE FIELD IN
BERMUDA.
Our graphic illastration shows
this most luscioiu of all the tropi-
cal fruits at home, in its native
Bermuda, where it is cultivated
in larffe fields, the slips being
planted wherever there is earth
enough among the rocks. The
pine-apples grow on stems about
a foot high, with a crown ot long
spiked leaves, and the fruit in the
middle. They are rips in May,
when the whole field is cut down.
In addition to the large numbers
that are exported both to domes-
tic and foreign ports, considerable
quantities are canned for eziK>rta-
tion. Fine as are the West Indian
pine-apples, those grown under
a grt>at many other lessons which
they will luarn as readily as a
dog or cat. But you mast take
the trouble to study their ways
and get on the right side of them.
One day I hod been reading in
a book how spiderb managed to
get their wubs across streams and
roads, and from the top of one tall
tree to another. I went out and
caught a large garden spidar, one
of those blue-gray, sprawling fel-
lows, and fixed him up for my
experiment.
I took a stick about eighteen
inches in length and fastened a
piece of iron to one end of it so
that the stick would stand up on
that end of itself. Then I put
this stick in a large tub of water,
and placed the spider on top of
strings of web were floating
away in the slight breeze that
was blowing. After a little one
of those threads touched the edge
of the tub and stuck fast, as all
spider webs will do.
This was just what Mr. Spider
was looking for, and the next mo-
ment he took hold of his web and
gave it a jerk, as a sailor does a
rope when he wishes to see how
strong it is or to make ''it fast.
Having satisfied himself that it
was fast at the other end, he
gathrred it in till it was tight
and straight, and then ran on it
quickly to the shore ; a rescued
castaway saved by his own in-
genuity.
Spiders are not fools, if they are
ugly; and He who made all things
evening comes on they sally forth,
often doing great harm to the
fruit on the neighboring planta-
tions. In some parts of Java
they are so numerous that it is
found necessary to protect thefruit
trees with huge nets. The ex-
tent of their flights through the
airissomethingastonishing. They
sometimes drop to the ground
and hop along with a shuflling
kind of leap, but if they are
alarmed, they spring to tho near-
est tree and in a moment reach
its top by a scries of bonrda. Out
upon the branches they dart, and
with a rush are off into space.
Saning through the air like some
great bird, down they go oblique-
ly, swift as an arrow, a hundred
and fify feet or more, rising again
c . rcc! them in ilavor, and
• -L. Vi I • d a ruuch higher price in
luarKoV. o tu ill England, where
thi'ir I uiiivft'.ioii ! ' hot-houses —
wnich was onco i.jirarded as the
highest triumph ot'thi> horticultu-
ral art — is now comparatively
easy, and is ono of the laiurios
of wealthy establishments. Thoy
are propagated chiefly by means
of suckers, and also hv tho
crowns, while new varieties are
obtained from seed from the par-
tially wild plants.
FUN WITH A SPIDER.
Spiders in many respects are
just like other animals, and can
be tamed and petted and taught
SCti
I the stick. I wanted to see if he
[could get to the "land," which
I was the edge of the tub, without
! any help. He ran down first one
I side of the stiok and then (he
'other; each time he would stop
[ when he touched the water, and
shaking his foot as a cat does, he
i would run up again. At last he
came to the conclusion that he
; was entirely surrounded by water
: — on an island, in fact. After re-
maining perfectly quiet for a long
while, during which I have no
doubt he was arranging his plans,
he began running around the top
of the stick, an'' throwing out
great coils of web with his hind
feet. In a few minutes 'ittle fine
has a care and thouarht for all.
The earth is full of the know-
ledge ofGod. — Christian at Work.
THE C'OLUGO.
In the forest.sof the islands con-
stituting the Indian Archipelago
is found a curious flying animal
that forms the connecting link be-
tween the lemur and the liat. The
natives call it the colugo, and also
the '• flying-fox," but it is more
like a flying monkey, as the
lemurs are cousins of the mon-
keys. Like the bats, these ani-
mals sleep in tho day-time hang-
ing from the limbs and branches
ot trees, head downward ; but as
in a graceful curve and alighting
safely on a distant tree. In these
great leaps they carry their
young, which cling to them or
sometimes follow them in their
headlong flight, uttering hoarse
and piercing cries. The colngos
live almost exclusively on fruit,
preferring plantains and the
young and tender leaves of the
cocoa-palms, thongh some writers
aver that they have seen them dart
into the air and actually catch
birds. The flying lemurs are per-
fectly harmless, and so gentle as
to be easily tamed. They have
lovely dark eyes and very in-
telligent and knowing faces. — C.
F. Holder, in St Nicholas for April.
«•
J
GULLING THE PBLICAP^
Tho seagull has two prominent
characteristics, wit and impu-
dence, which it exercises for its
own benefit at the expense of
its fellows. It is not at all nice
in its choice of victims, but
practises its rogueries with re-
gard only to its own safety and
profit. If the victim be small,
then force alone is resorted to to
obtain the coveted object, which
is always something to eat; if
strong, then wit is brought into
play; and if stupid, then impu-
dence accomplishes the same re-
sult. Nor is the gull unaware
seemingly of the ludicrousness of
the part it so often plays of mak-
ing others do the work it ought
and can do itself, as may be seen
in its dealings with the pelican.
The brown pelican though its
numbers have been greatly less-
ened, is still plentifully found
along the shores of the Gulf of
Mexico, and in Florida especially
may be encountered without dit-
iiculty. It is indefatigable in two
pursits — first fishing and then
eating.
It is a ponderous, clumsy bird,
with a body ns large as a swan's
but with enormous wings which
enable it to fly with case and
power and almost wilh grace.
The head, which U almost, nil bill,
is not pretty, but, what is bettor,
it is eminently uselul, for it com-
bines iish-spi^ar and luuch-uasket
in one. The upper ])iirt of the
bill terminates in a hook which is
fatal to a fish, and the lower part
is hung with an olastic pouch in-
to which the captured prey are
deposited until desired for eat-
ing.
As it has large webbed feet and
swims well, it catches a irreat
many fish, just as the ducks do ;
but It also has a very picturesque
way of capturing its finny prey.
It Bails majestically over the
water at » considerable height
abo\-e it, glancing sharply about
for victims in the transparent cle'
ment below, until, catching a
glimpse of one favorably disposed
for capture it launches itself
straight downward, and with bill
projecting and wings folded
cleaves the air like a bolt, trans-
fixing the fish and by the impetus
of its fall disappearing under the
water, to return to the surface,
however, with all the buoyancy
of a cork, and with the quarry
comfortably tucked away for fu-
ture reference.
Having labored earnestly in
this way until its pouch is full,
the pelican seeks a long low lodge
of rocks, and there in company
with his fellows takes up his po-
sition in solemn earnestness to
enjoy the fruits of his toil. A skil
ful toss of the head shoots a fish
from the reserToir into the throat,
and a gulp lends it on its way into
the stomach. A little time for the
pleasurable sensation of digestion,
^and again the head is tossed.
$ And so the game is played with
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THK "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
117 y
regularity by the whole grotesque
line. The long heads are some-
times turned about and rested on
the shoulders pointing backward,
or more freouently are held point-
ing vertically downward.
Although a large and clumsy
creature tho pelican is not neces-
sarily stupid ; but by dint o[ fre-
quent tossing of Ihe well laden
I>ouch it becomes at once gorged
and dull, and then is the golden
opportunity of the gull.
He impudently alights upon (he
very head of his victim, and waits
patiently until the i)elican re-
ceives warning from within that
dence of enjoying the trick votj
little less than the booty.
It might bo supposed that the
pelicans would learn wisdom in
the course of time, but they do
not seem to have done so yet, for
day after day along the coral
reefs of the Florida coast may be
seen long lines of gormandizing
pelicans entertaining gulls in this
way.— Sfien/iAt American.
THE
VIRTUE OF A
FUL FACK.
CHEER-
In one of the boarding schools
situated in a densely-populated
dULI.l.N'U THE PELICAN.
another fish is wanted. Up goes
the bill, open gapes the awful
mouth, out shoots a doomed fish —
not into tho ready (hroat.however,
but into the waiting hill of the
gull, which has adroitly twisted
its head so that it can see all that
is exposed of tho pelican's internal
economy, and has snatched the
morsel and flown with a wild
scream of laughter to eat it at its
leisure, if indeed a gull ever had
such a state of being.
The pelican is almost too stupid
to know that it has been robbed,
but the gull gives every evi-
district of Glasgow, Scotland, on
the morning immediatelysucceed-
ing the short vacation at the New
Year time, the young lady and
gentleman teachers at the head
of the "infant " section were made
tho delighted recipients of a pre-
sent from their young charges.
The gifts, which were entirely
unlocked for, consisted of two of
those highly ornate short-cakes,
with appropriate sentiments in
sugar which we were all as chil-
dren familiar with, and which as
" old fogies " we do not entirely
taboo. The purchase, doubtless.
had been made at imo of the
neighboring confectioners, and
the young donors laid (heir offer-
ings blushingly and in childish
fashion, without a word, before
their teachers. Both were alike
astonished, but the gentleman
managed to stammer ont some
thanks. The young lady's delight
was more lingering, and she,
blushing, inquired what she had
done to merit such kindness. For
a time no response was made,
until at last a chubby boy on a
back bench chirruped out, "'Cause
you're aye smilin' Miss." It was
a day of smiles after that. — Ex.
A PLUCKY BOA-CONSTRIC-
TOR.
The Rev. Mr. Ladd, sent about
two years ago by the American
Missionary Association to make
arrangements for establishing
missions in the region of the Up-
per Nile, gives the following ac-
count of an adventure with a
snake on his way down the river.
"Doctor and I were sitting on the
bridge seeing what we could see,
when I discovered a huge snake
in the water swimmingslowly and
trying to cross the river. I rushed
for (he shot-gun, and although we
had almost got beyond range, gave
him both barrels with good effect.
I jumped into the small boat with
a number of men ; the steamer
put about and we went after that
snake. As we iieared him, how-
ever he began to show signs of
life, and Doctor, fearing he might
get away, fired two shots at him^
with the rifle from tho bridge.
The second ball struck, but
glanced, leaving not the slightest
trace of a mark, but stunned him
so that he turned over on his back.
We picked him up and found that
we had got hold of a boa-constric-
tor. As soon as he was landed in
the boat he came to again, and
made it lively for us. His strength
was something remarkable. He
ran his head a little way under a
board, and six men pulling with
all their might and main could
not get him out. He came out
when ho got ready, but thea we
had a rope around him, and hauled
him on deck. There was a scat-
tering of the crowd then. We
choked him to death, cut his teeth
out, and put him away. He came
to life again, and broke one of the
supports of the water-jar. Then
Ibrahim stood on that snake's head
till he was dead. We hung him
up. He came to life again and
nearly got away. Then we beat
him on the head with a club till
he was " as dead as a door nail,"
He came to life again ! No use I
We determined to conquer him
this time, and proceeded to skin
him. This was too much for him,
and he concluded to remain dead
He measured 9 ft. 6 in. in length,
and 11{ in. around. I have pre-
served the skin and hope to have
it stuffed. The sailors will eat
the flesh."
a
r
lis
REPRINTED STORIES, FHOM THK "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
A BIRD THAT HELPS ITSELF
TO OY8TER8.
This wonderrul fallow, I'm told,
oftens oysters with his bill. The
longer mandible is thrust between
the valves, and then turned so as
to wedge open the shell ; in fact,
it is used as an oysterman uses his
knife. The oytser is then cut
awav with tho upper blade and
swallowed. Sometimes the oyster
closes upon the whole beak, in
which case the bird bangs the
i
SIDE-VIEW AND TOP-VIEW OF THK
BEAK or THE SCIBSOR-BILL.
shell against a stone so as to break
the hinge and expose the inhabi-
tant, which is immediately
scooped out. He also skims
along jnst over the surface of the
sea, picking up whatever he can
find to eat. While thus darting
about, the bird utters loud and
exultant cries, as if proud of its
skill.— S/. Nicholas.
BABIES IN SCANDINAVIA.
The peasants like grand names
for their little ones, such as
Adolph, Adricin, Qotfried, Gnsta-
vus, for boys ; and Josephina,
Thora, Ingeborg for girls; and if
thevhave no name prepared tbey
seek one in the almanac for the
particular day of baby's birth. It
is ' baptized " the next Sunday
and taken to church by the god-
mother, who provides the chris-
tening garments, which are often
trimmed with colored bows, while
the infant has beads around its
neck and wears a cap with very
little border. The clergyman
holds it well over the font and
pours water over the back of the
head three times, and then wipes
with a towel. As the baby is
swathed in six-inch-wido band'
ages so that it cannot move its legs
and sometimes not even its arms,
it is obliged to lie very passive
during this ceremonial. The
peasants have their reasons for
this swathing, the first of which
is that they think it makes the
limbs grow straiirht ; the second
that it turns baby into a compact
bundle to carry. When swathed
thus, infants have been said to re-
semble the tail of a lobster, or
even its whole body. In the
north they are often hung from a
long, springy pole stuck in the
wall, to be out of the way ; and,
being by nature quiet, they are
supposed not to mind it Their
cradles, wh'ch are very primitive,
are also frequently suspended by
a spiral spring from the roof,
which must be more comfortable
than the pole Both in Swedish
and Norwegian Lapland, people
take these " swaddlings " to
church. But instead of carrying
them into church they make a
hole in the snow outside in the
churchyard and bury them in it,
leaving a smallaperture for breath-
ing purposes. The babies are
kept splendidly warm, while their
friends within the sacred build-
ing have their beards trozen to
their fur coats bv the freeiing of
their own breaths, As soon as a
peasant boy can walk, he is put
into trousers, buttoned inside his
jacket; and these are so baggy
behind that it is often amusing to
see him. This bagginess is fre-
quently due to the fact that the
trousers originally belonged to
his father, but were cut off at the
legs and simply drawn round the
boy's waist without reducing their
size. Add to this that the feet are
shod either with little jack-boots
or wooden shoes, and we have a
strange picture. Their stockings
either have leather heels or no
heels at all, so that the mother is
spared the trouble oi mending
them. Neither has she much la-
prize of the higu<illing of Ood in scribes the mar. ler in which thia
9hm
7
Christ .TesuB," a crown that is in
corruptible.
Now what are yon going to do
about the weights, the things
industry is ca /led on. The sur-
roundings are certainly pictu-
resque. An encampment has been
formed in the beech woods, and
that hinder you from running this suitable trees are selected and
race ? you know some things do
seem to hinder you; will you
keen them or lay them aside ?
Will you only lay aside something
that every one can see is hinder-
ing you, so that you will get a
little credit for putting it down,
and keep somathing that your
own little conscience knows is a
real hinderance,though no one else
knows anythmg at all about it ?
Oh, take St. Paul's wise and holy
advice, and make up your mind
to lay aside every weight.
Ditierent persons have different
weights ; we must find out what
ours are, and give them up. One
finds that if sne does not get up
directly she is called, the time slips
by, and there is not enough left
for quiet prayer and Bible read-
ing. Then here is a little weight
that mutt be laid aside. Another
HELPINO HIItSELF TO OYSTEB8.
bor with their heads, the hair of
which is cropped as close as a
convict's. The girls also wear
wooden shoes, but they have
gingham kerchiefs or caps on their
heads, frocks down to their heels
and quaint pinafores. — Little
Folk's Magazine.
NO WEIGHTS.
"Letatlaraildearory wtUliL' -Bab. 12: 1.
If you were going to run a race,
you would first put down all the
parcels you might have been
carrying. And if you had a heavy
little parcel in your pocket, you
would take that out and lay it
down too, because it would hin-
der you in running. You would
know better than to say, " I will
put down the parcels which I
have in my hands, but nobody
can see the one in my pocket, so
that one won't matter ! " You
would " lay aside every weight.''
You have a race to run to-day,
a little piece of the great race that
is set before you. God has set a
splendid prize before you, " the
is at school, and finds that he gets
no good, but a little harm, when
he goes much with a certain boy.
Then he must lay that weight
aside. Another takes a story book
up to bed, and reads it up to the
last minute, and then her head is
so full of the story that she only
says words when she kneels down,
and cannot really pray at all. Can
she doubt that this is a weight
which must be laid aside ?
It may seem hard to lay our
pet weight down ; but, oh, if you
only knew how light we feel
when it is laid down, and how
much easier it is to run the race
which God has set before us ! —
Morning Bells.
HOW WOODEN SHOES ARE
MADE.
An industry that cannot last
many years more, th:inks to the
rapid cheapening of leather shoes
by means of machinery, is the
manufacture of wooden shoes, still
the only wear of thousands of
French peasantry. A writer in
Chambers's Journal pleasantly de-
felled. Each will probably give
six dozen pairs of wooden shoes.
Other kinds of wood are spongy
and soon penetrated with damp,
but the beech sabots are light, of
close grain, and keep the feet dry
in spite of snow and mud, and in
this respect are greatly anperior
to leather.
All is animation. The men cut
down the tree ; the trunk is sawn
into lengths, and if the pieces
prove too large they are divided
into quarters. The first work-
man fashions the sabots roughly
with the hatchet, taking care to
give the bend for right and left ;
the second takes it in hand,
pierces the hole for the interior,
scoops the wood oat with an in-
iustrument called the cuiller.
The third is the artist of the
company ; it is his work to finish
and polish it, carving a rose or
primrose upon the top if it be for
the fair sex. Sometimes he cuts
an open border around the edge,
so that a blue or white stocking
may be shown by a coquettish
girl. As they are finished they
are placed in rows under the
white shavings ; twice a week the
apprentice exposes them to a fire,
which smokes and hardens the
wood, giving it a warm golden
hue. The largest sizes are cut
from the lowest part of the bole,
to cover the workman's feet who
is out in rain from morning to
night. The middle part is for the
busy house-wife v ho is treading
the washhouse, the dairy, orstands
beside the village fountain. Next
come those of the little shepherd,
who wanders all day long with
his flock, and still smaller ones
for the school boy. Those for the
babies have the happiest lot ; they
are seldom worn out. As the
foot grows the mother keeps the
little sabots in a corner of her
cupboard beside the baptismal
robe.
A Celebrated Gebhan wri-
ter mentions " an antique, the
whole size of which is but
one inch in length, and one-
third of an inch in breadth,
and yet it contains in mosaic tho
picture of a Mallard duck, which,
in brilliancy of coloring, and in
dislincL representation of parts,
even ofwings and feathers, equals
a miniature painting. And what
is most wonderful, on being
turned, it presents the same pic-
ture without a discoverable vari-
ation on the opposite side."
Nbver Enter upon the duties
of the day without "casting all
your care" upon God and seeking
His guidance and blessing upon
all things. In answer to this
prayer many minutes, nay, hours.
m|y be given you, and thus you < i
may find " a minute to spare. %
^H9
REPRINTED STORIKS, KKOM TIIK 'N>HTIIEMN MKSSKN(JKR."
^H9
ii»
OUTER WALL OF THE ORBiT TKUPLE.
THE RUINS OF BAALBEO.
Syria abonnds in names of il-
loatrions citiei. All aro ancient,
but Rome have retained import-
ance to the preaent day. Sach
especially are Damascus and Bei-
rut. Others, like Palmyra and
Baalbec, have lost (heir import-
ance and are chiefly interesting
for their wonderful ruins.
Baalbec lay on the route »i
an opulent commerce between
Tripoli, Damascus and the far
Bast. It was adorned with vast
temples, in which false deities
were worshipped wiih great
pomp. Tho Great Temple ex-
tended 1 ,100 feet from east to we»t,
and had a breadth of 870 feet.
The peristyle of its principal
courts was compoped of fifty-four
columns. Each stood 62 feet in
height, and was eight feet in
diameter at the base and fire feet
at the top. Only six of these
columns now remain upright, and
they are shown in our second pic-
ture. They are generally formed
of only three stones each, united
by iron dowels. See with what
rich Corinthian capitals they are
crowned, and how finely they are
wrought in every part.
Tho external walls of the
temple are built of mossivo stones.
There are three which measure
each 63 feet in length by 13 feet
in height. They are built into
the wall at a distance of 20 feet
above the ground. They may be
seen in our first picture. So
famous were they that the temple
was called after them Trilithon,
or the Three Stone Temple.
You have often been impressed
by tho strong denunciations of
the Old Testament against the
idolatry of the nations of Syria,
and you have wondered that the
people of Israel should have fallen
under their influence so many
times, in spito of the Divine warn-
ings. These massive ruins will
partly explain the great power
and influence of the worship of
Baal in those early days. You
Ik see how the name Baalbec is de-
« > rived. Get your Bible and your
IIH9
Concordance, and look up tho re
ferences to that religion. Then,
in imagination, restore the great
temple to its original grandeur,
and fill it with all the pomp
of the ancient worship, the thou-
sands of votaries, the smoking
sacrifices and the cruel practice
of parents burning their own
children, and you will not won-
der at the Divine judgments
against idolatry.
Though so firm and so beauti-
ful, this and all the edifices of
Baalbec have fallen to decay.
The worship conducted in them
was idolatrous and no one cares
to restore it. But all about in the
land missionaries are blessed of
God in establishing churches of
our Lord Jesus and winning the
people to love and servo him. It
will bo far more acceptable to
Ilira, and far more serviceable to
the peoplo of Syria, when hun-
dreds of unpretentious edifices
are scattered throughout the land,
and when in each village congre-
gations can gather for His worship
every Sabbath day. — Foreign
Misitonary.
A SEA CANDLE.
Ill these days of gas and elec-
tric lights it seems very strange to
hear of burning w hale-oil in lamps,
or oven to use petroleum, but an
actual candle that grows in tho
sea and is alive, too, is still more
strange.
This candle is tho fattest of
little fish, and it is found in tho
Northern seas, tho very region
whore it i.s most needed. It is
quite ornamental by moonlight,
and glitters like pearls in tho
water because of its shiny armor.
The Indians ot Russian America
and Vancouver Island catch the
littlo fish— which are about as
largo as smelts— with immense
rakes, having teeth made of bone
or sharp-poiaited nails, and every
time tho rake is swept in one fish
at least, and sometimes three or
four, will be found fast on each
tooth.
To make them into candles the
women take a long wooden
net'dle, and thread it with apiece
of rush pilh, which i.s drawn
through the fish from head to tail.
When this wick is lighted the fish
burns steadily in its rough candle-
stick— only a bit of wood split at
one end to hold Iho candle — and
ci ves a light britfht enough to read
By. Large quantities of these use-
ful little fisii are turned into oil
— but not to be burned in lamps.
It is the favorite supply of winter
food, and helps to keep out tho
terrible cold of those long North-
ern winters. When Mrs. Indian
has oil-making on hand the chil-
dren probably find it worse than
washing-day or house-cleaning
and are glad enough to take their
littlo bows and arrows or spears
and go off until things are quiet
again around the lodge.
First the squaw makes five or
six largo fires, and throws a num-
ber of large round pebbles into
each to be heated very hot. Four
large square boxes of pine-wood
are ready by each fire, and in
every box she piles a layer offish,
which she covers with cold water,
and then puts in five or six of the
heated stones. When the smoke
hasclearedaway piecesof wood are
laid on the stones, then more fish,
water, stones and wood, until the
box is filled. The liquid from
this box is used for tho next one i
in place
ing oil is then nkimmed off from
tho surface. This oil is put into
bottle.s which are also found in
the sen. An immense seu-woed
with hollow stalks that widen
like a flask at the root is gathered
for the purpose, and each bottle will
hold marly a quart of oil. Candle-
fish is the every-day name of tho
oil-giver, but on great occasions
it is Sulmo padfir.uf. — Harper's
Young People.
In " Wanderings in a Wild
Country," a lK)ok lately published
in London, tho author tells how
a queer bird called a morroop or
cassowary manages to get its fish
dinners. One day the man saw
one of these great fowls come
down to tho water's edge and
watch the water for some minutes.
It then waded in to where tho
water was about three feet deep,
and partly squatted, with spread
wings, ruffled feathers and shut
eyes. It kept perfectly still for as
much as a quarter of an hour, then
suddenly closed its wings and
stepped to the bank, where shak-
ing itself thoroughly a quantity
of small fishes fell from under its
wings and from among its
feathers. These were picked up
quickly and swallowed. Tho
fish had mistaken the feathers
for a kind of weed in which they
fish that
I
hido from the larger
of water, and the float- { prey upon them.
INTERIOR t)F THE GREAT TEMPLE.
^H»
rJ-20
Monn
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGERS
W
MORE WONDERFUL THAN
THE TELEGRAPH
Oeorgo mid Thomns Uatei
had often expressed a desire to
visit the telegraph office One
day, after school, these boys
went into their fathers ware-
house, just opposite the telegraph
office, and askod him it he would
be so kind as to take them to see
thib wotiderful invention. Their
father was not so occupied as to
prevent his granting their re-
quest ; and tno next moment
tney were by the side of the
agent, looking at the performance
of the little instrument that noted
d«wn intelligence like a living
thing
The boys entreated their father
to send a message to their uncle
in Washington. This he con
sented to do ; but the little
machine was so busy that there
was no opportunity to gratify
them.
"Tic, tic, tic, dot, dot, click
click, click," went the little pointer.
By and by it ceased for an instant ;
but just as the agent was going
to put in his claim it began
again. After a while their turn
came The agent hurried to put
in a W for Washington, and ' Ay,
ay,' was the reply, to let him
know that his wish was attended
to and the message was sent.
In the evening the boys could
talk of nothing but the wonders
of the magnetic telefrrapli.
'' Is it not the most wonderful
ihing you ever heard of. father ?"
^aid Thomas
" No, replied his father ; " I
have heard of things more won-
derful.
" But, father," said George,
' you never heard of any message
being sent so quickly as by this
means, have you ? "
" Yes, I have, my son."
" And you receiving an
answer as quickly ? " added
George.
" Yes much sooner," replied
his father
" Are you in earnest, father ? "
said Thomas, drawing his chair
close to his father, and looking
eageily in his face. " Is it
possible that you know of a more
wonderful way of communication
than by telegtaph V "
" I never was more in earnest,
ray son, than when I say yes to
your question."
" Weil, father," said George,
"do tell me what it is, and in
what respect it is better thau the
telegraph ?
" In the first place," said his
father, " you do not have to wait
to send your messag.; while others
are attended to , for your message
can go with thousaiid.s of others,
without an interruption or hin-
deiance ''
' So Hint i.s an improvement,'
said George; "for we had to
wait a long time, you know ''
" And in the next place, ' con-
tinued his father, " there is no
need of wires or electricity, or
machinery, to ;iid the mode of
communication of which I sneak ,
and what is more wondurfnl than
all IS the fact that you need not
oven frptfs^ the nature of yout
communication, as before you do
so vour answer may bo returned,
though it is necessaiy that you
truly and sincerely desire a
favorable reception for your re-
quest Besides all this, the plan
of communication of which I
speak IS superior to all others
from the fact that you need not
and praying, and confeMing my
■in and the sin of the people
Israel, and presenting my anp
plication before the Lord my Qod,
. . yea, while I was ■peaking
in prayer, even the man Oabiiel,
. . being caniedtofly^wiftly,
touched mc about the time of the
evening oblation And informed
me, and talked with me. and said,
O Daniel, I am now come forth
to give then skill and uiiderBtaiid-
mg. At the beginning of thy
««
II
resort to any particular place to ; supplications the commandment
came forth, and I am come to
show thee — "
" I see father, from these pas-
sages," said Thomas, " that you re-
fer to prayer."
" And I am sure yon will both
agree with me that this mode of
communication with heaven ii
more wonderful than any other,
for by this means our desires can
be immediately known to our
heavenly Father, and we receive
send your request In the lonely
desert, on the trackless ocean, in
the crowded city, on the moun-
tain top, by night or by day, in
sickness andhealth, and especially
in troable and afHiclion, the way
of communication is open to all.
And the applicants can never t)e
so numerous that the simplest
desire of the feeblest child,
properly presented, shall not
meet immediate attention "'
" Is there any account published an answer." — Standard
MOKAL. — CHOOSE YDUK FUlENDtJ WISILY
of this wonderful manner of com-
municating your wishes ? '' in-
quired Thomas,
" Yes, there is, my son ; and I
hope your interest will not be
diminished when I teli you it is
to be found in the Bible "
" In the Bible I ' exclaimed both
boys.
"Certainly, my sons, and if
you will t>oth get your Bibles, I
will tell you where to find the
passages confirming what I have
said "
The children opened their
Bibles, and found, as then father
directed them, the twenty-fourth
JOHN WESLEY'S ESCAPE.
One night, a father was roused
by the cry of fire from the street
Little imagining the fire was in
his own house, he opened his bed-
room door and found the place
full of smoke, and that the roof
already burned through
that ttood near the window, and
waa aeen from (he yard. There
waa no time for procuring a
ladder, but one man waa hoisted
on the ahonldeia ol another. And
thiu he waa taken out A moment
after the roof tell in
When the child waa rescued,
the father cried out ' '' Come,
neighbors, let ua kneel down ; let
ui give thanka to Ood He has
?;iTen me all my eight children ,
et the house go , I am rich
enongh " John Wesley always
remembered this deliverance
with the deepest gratitude. Un-
der one of the portraits pabliahed
daring hia life is a representation
of a honae on fire, with the scrip-
tural inquiry, " Is not this a brand
plucked out of the burning? " —
CHriftian Intetligencfr
WOULD NOT DO FOR A LINEN
MANUFACTURER.
There was a lad in Ireland, who
was put to work in a linen factory;
and while he was at work there a
piece of cloth waa wanted, to be
sent out, which was short of the
quantity it ought to be, but the
master thought it might be made
the length by stretching. Ho
thereupon unrolled the cloth, tak-
ing hold of one end of it himself,
and the boy at the other. He
then said, " Pull, Adam, pull !"
" I cannot, sir " ,
" Why ? " said the master.
"Because it is wrong, sir," and
and he refused to pull. Upon this
the master said he would not do
for a linen manufacturer, and
sent him home.
But the boy became the learned
and famous Dr Adam Clark, —
Christian iHtelligencer .
TOMS GOLD-DUST.
Directing hi.s wile and two girls
to rise and fly for their lives, he
burst open the nursery, door where
the maid was sleeping with five
children. They snatched up the
youngest, an<l hade the
follow her; the three eldest did
so. but John, who ^^a.s tlieii six
years old. was not awakened, and
verse of the sixty-fifth chapter of ,„ the alarm was forgotten The
Isaiah, which Thomas reail as fol
lows : " And it shall come to pass,
that, before they call, I will answer,
and while they arespoaking I will
hear ''
Next George found and read
the ninth verse of the fifty-eighth
chapter of Isaiah ; " Then shall
thou call, and the Lord shall
answer ; thou shall cry, and he
shall say here I am."
" Now turn," said their father,
"to Daniel, ninth chapter, twen-
tieth, twenty-first, twenty-second
and twenty-third verses."
• And while I was speaking,
rest of the family escaped, — some
through the windows, others by
the garden door; the mother to
use her own expression, "waded
through the fire." Just then, John
was heard cryiiiif in the nursery.
The father ran to the stairs, but
they were so nearly consumed
that the/ could not bear his
weight ; and being utterly in
despair he fell upon his knees in
the hall, and in agony commended
the soul of the child to God. John
had been awakened by the light,
and finding it impossible to escape
by the door climbed upon a chest
" That boy knows how to take
care of his gold-dust," said Tom's
uncle often to himself, and some-
times aloud
Tom went to college ; and every
account they heard of him he was
going ahead, laying a solid founda-
tion for the future
" Certainly,' said his uncle,
others ' " certainly ; that boy, I tell you,
knows how to take care of his
gold-dust "
" Gold dust ' ' Where did Tom
get gold-dust? He was a poor
boy He had not been to Cali-
fornia. He never was a miner.
When did he get gold-dust?
Ah ! he has seconds and minutcH,
and these are the gold-dust ol
time — specks and particles of
time which boys and girls and
grown-up people are apt to waste
and throw away, Tom knew
their value. His father, our min-
ister, had taught him that every
speck and particle of time was
worth its weight in gold, and
his son took care of them as it
they were. Take care of your f \
gold-dust \—Sel
«H^
-SH9
«H0
ndow, and
d. Thero
ocnring u
aa hoistod
ther. And
A moment
■ readied,
• •■ Gome,
I down ; let
L He has
children ,
[ am rich
ey always
leliveranco
tude. Un-
g publiahed
resentation
1 the scrip-
this a brand
irning?" —
R A LINEN
RER.
reland, who
len factory ;
vork there a
anted, to be
short of the
)e, but the
ht be made
tching, lie
le cloth, tak-
[ it himself,
other. Ho
m, pull!-
I
master,
[ig, sir." and
1. Upon this
fould not do
jturer, and
) the learned
urn Clark.—
DUST.
how to take
said Tom's
If, and some-
; and every
f him he was
solid lounda-
his uncle,
, I tell you,
care of his
lere did Ton;
was a poor
been to Call-
ras a miner,
gold-dust >.
and minutes,
gold-dust o(
particles ol'
nd girls and
i apt to waste
Tom knew
her, our mni-
m that every
of time was
in gold, and
of them as il
care of your M
<QH^
RKl'RINTKD STOUIKS. KIto.M THE " NORTH KRN MRSSKNGER."
121
«H9| m^
THE HELMET CA.SSOWAUY.
Thu casNownrv (Cusnarinsi, ol
which not Ii-kn than niiio distinrt
^I'oien have been discovered, dif-
fers from the emn in having a
somewhat more slender body and
hair-like featherM. The helmet is
quite remarkable, and is composed
of a cellular bony NubMlunce. It
is barely perceptible in the young
bird, not reaching its full devel-
opment until the bird arrives at
adult ago. The plumage ol the
body is hair-like, with a tuft ol
down at the root of each shaft.
The short, thick foot has three
toes. The height of the bird is
about five feet. These birds are
found in the Malaccas.
The helmet cassowary (Casu-
arins galeatus, Struthio casuarius),
shown in the engraving, has been
the lougest known of this family.
cilsliimed haiiills. He nays; —
" These birds wander through the
great mountttiii tbiesl.s of Ceraia,
and subsist chielly on fallen fruit.s
and herbage. '1 b,. female |ayn
Irom three to live larife lieaiililuily
granulated green eggs, and male
and fuinule sit alternately >ipou
thuiu tor the space of u month.
All the cassovvnries whii'h have
been taken to hurope were ea|>-
tured when yoiniif l)y the natives
and brought up by them. This
is perhap.-* the reason that manv
of them are tam(>d and appear to
be gentle and coiililing, although
their original disposition is the
reverse of this. They are natur-
ally fierce, and take otfence with-
out any provocation. They are
greatly excited by the sight of a
scarlet cloth, and have a great
antipathy toward ragged or un-
vity, but it is very seldom that
any yuung are raised. It is not
olten that a pair call be obtained
that will livu together in peace.
Another species of cassowarv
was di.Hcovered in the island of
New UrilHiii. Its native title in
moornk, A pair of those birds
Were purchased by Dr. Bennett
in IS.IT Irom Captain Devlin, and
were sent to Kntrland. They were
very lame, ami ran around every-
where in the house and yard
without feor. In timj they be-
came so obtrusive that they dis-
turbed the servants in their work,
lor they would crowd through
doors left ajar, follow the servants
step by step, rummage in all the
corners of the kitchen, spring
upon the table and chairs, to the
great flisquiet of the cook. If any
one attempted to catch them.
into the starch, and .tttended to
the summons. On her reiurii the
cull was gone, and she discovered
that the mooruk wa.s the thief,
its beak and being covered with
the starch." The height ol this
bird is about live feet when
standing erect. — Vrum Btelim'%
Animal lift,
■^- •
THE ARTILLERY FERN.
The artillery fern, or flower, as
it in sometimes called, is a curious
and beautiful plant which is not
very generally known outside of
rare collections or of florists'
green houses. It acquires its
singular name from the military
and explosive fashion with whicn
it resists the action of water upon
it. if a branch of the fern, cov*
ercd with its small red seeds, be
dipped into water and then held
THE HELMET OAaSCWAiiy.
The plumage is black, the back
part of the head ijreeii, tlte nock
is colored with bUu-, violei, and
red, the bill is black, and llie loot
a yellowish gray. The young
birds are brown.
All travellers who tell us of the
wild life of this bird agree that it
inhabits the thickest I'orest.s, aiul
leads a very retired lilc, and at
the least appearance of dauber
it hastens away, and seeks to
withdraw itself irom the sight of
men. How difHcult it is to ob-
serve them may be seen from the
fact that Miller never hiul the op-
portunity of seeing a lassowiiry,
although he found their tracks
and heard the noise of the bird
fleeing through the thicket, and
Wallace in Ceram could not make
a single capture, although he
sought for the bird in all its ac-
clean persons, sometimes attack-
ing them.
They sometimes become un-
governable in captivity, and the
kiH'ix'rs of zooloi;i(;al iriirdens say
that one raunot bi! too cautious
with the cassowary. " When ir-
ritated, tliev are lorinidalile anta-
gonists, turning rapidly about
and launchinir a shower of kicks,
which may do no small damage,
their (.(I'jet being heightened by
the sharp eiuws with which the
toes !i-o armed." In conlinement
tliey often swallow whole apples
and oranges. In the gardens
they are given a mixture of bread,
grain, cut up api)les, etc., but it
has been ol)sorved that young
fowls or owls which come ac-
cidentally in their way are de-
stroyed.
They often lay .ggs in capti-
they wMild run quickly around i
or creep under the furniture, de-
fending themselves viijorously
with l)ill and ieet. 'floft free.they
would go back of their own ac-
cord to their aacustomed dwelling
place. Sometimes, when the
maid attempted to drive them
away, they would strike out at
her and tear her clothes. They
would run into the stall between
the horses and cat with them
from the manger. Often they
wouUl push open the door of Dr.
Bennett's study, run quietly
around, look at everything, and
go their way. Dr. Bennett says :
•• It was dangerous to leave any
object around which was capabli-
of being siwallowed. The servant
was starching some muslin cuff's,
and heiring thj bell ring she
sqi; >eied up the cuff, threw it
up to the light there soon com-
mences a strange phenomenon.
First one bud will explode with a
sharp little crack throwing into
the air its pollen in the shape of
a small cloud of yellow dust. This
will bo followed by another and
another, until very soon the entire
fern-like branch will be seen dis-
charging these miniature volleys
with their tiny puHs of smoke.
This occurs whenever the plant is
watered, and the elfect of the en-
tire fern in this condition of re-
bellion is very curious as well as
beautiful. As the buds thus open
they assume the shape of a miniii-
ture Geneva cross, too small to the
naked eye to attract much atten-
tion, but under a magnifying glass
they are seen to possess very rare
and delicate beauty.— Chriilian
Union.
i
r^,
122
MERRY CinnSTMAS.
MA!
One idea wnt uppermoit in
threo little minds wnnn bedtime
came on a certain 24th of Docem-
ber. Ethel thought of it firal,
but the youngoronoaauite agreed
(ha> ri'ry oiiriy in tno morning
Umr would got up and rusb into
their mother's room with the cry
»!' " Merry Christmas."
" I suppose sho won't mind,"
•aid Dora, who wns tho thought-
'nl one of the family ; bat the
•Qggestion was sno .ted. When
had mamma been known to
" mind " her children going to her
at all times ? And it sremed such
an ordinary, common-place sort of
fashion to say " Merry
Christmas" at the break-
i'ast-tabU ; they wanted
some new way of giving
their good wishes: and then
Ethel had this lucky
thought, and proposed that
they should dress them-
selves quietly before nnrso
made her appearance, and
be tho iirsl in the house-
hold to welcome the happy
day.
The prospect was so
charming, that it kept
them awake for more than
an hour after their usual
time. " Oh, Ethel, Bupposo
we shuuld not wake till
nurse comos," said Reggie,
in an awe-struck whisper.
It seemed indeed ii dis-
tressing possibility.
" You had better go to
sleep at once,' replied
Ethel, in her elder-sisterly
way, which was copied a
little from nurse. "If you
don't, Reggie, I expect you
will sleep on till breakfast."
It was a good advice,
but neither giver nor re-
ceiver seemed able to pro-
fit by it. "Oh dear,"
sighed Dora, presently,
" my eyes will not shut, at
least thay won't keep so.
Nurse says sometimes
thinking of running water,
or counting a flock of
sheep, sends one to sleep,
but it is no use tome. I've
counted sixty-three now,
and I'm just as wide
awake as ever."
Presently mamma came
to give her usual good-
nig|it kiss. "All awake ! "
she said, looking round the nur-
sery and at each little white bed.
"What has happened?"
" Oh, nothing, mamma. It's
on'y Christmas that keeps us
awake."
" Then I am glad that it comes
bat once a year," said Mrs. Sul-
wyn, smiling; then bidding them
good-night agbiu, she went away,
wondering a little as a soft laugh
came from the children. Of
course they laughed witti the con-
sciousness of the secret which no
one had found out.
«KI»HINTRD STORIKS. FROM THK "NORTFIKRN MKSSKNOKR." .
MAM
•Hi
those three pairs of eyes closed ;
I can only sny it happened at last,
and also that before daylight next
morning Ethel's had opened again,
and she was tiptoeing to the other
two beds with a "(Jet up, Dora,"
"Oet up, Reggie." 8oftly and
swiftly each little white-clad
figure slipped to the ground, and
then there began such a fumbling
with buttons and strings, sueh
work witli curly heads, that it
seemed surprising nurse (who
slept in the adjoining room) did
not hear them.
Rut at last they were dressed —
after a fashion— and down theslairs
they tripped to their mother'sdoor,
which Ethel opened gently, that
whatever wnn set before him : the
bread was loo old, the soup loo
hot, the milk too rich. In fact,
he never rume to the table with-
out grumbling about something,
and making everybody uncom-
fortable He clattered his knife
and fork, and made faces. He
talked loudly aiul acted so much
like a little down, that it msde
his father and mother very miser-
able. They had often lo send
him away, or punish him. At the
same time he talked a great deal
about what he would do when he
was a man. He used lo put on
his father's hat niul take his cane
and stmt about, just to see how
it would seem to tie u real man.
want an^ of that stufi. Then he
twisted III his chair, and over-
turned a dish in his neighbor's
lay He nriod out that he wanted
to be helped to a big piece of cake.
"Give me some m*rmalatl«, I tell
you I " he roared ; " I will have
some ; I won't cat my suuper if I
don't hav> it." And hu began to
eat with hi* mouth open. " Dip-
ped toast," ho cried, " I hate it."
And he made such a horrible face
that it almost caused Fred's h«ir
to stand on end.
" He's acting just the name way
you do, Fred," said one of the
children.
From that time Fred began to
mend his table manners He now
behaves like a gentleman,
lie does not roar for what
he wants. He does not
make a mess on tho table-
cloth. Ho does not slop
his luilk about. He does
not get spots on his clothes,
or tii>over backwards in hi»
chair. Yon would never
know but ho was already
a grown man. — Mart/ iV.
Prescoll, in Our Little Unen.
A
FAMILY MISSION-
ARY SOCIETY.
MEBKY C11KI8TMA8, MAM.MA
*. ' I cannot tell you ox .ctly when
tfaey might peop in. No! she]
was not asleep, she was really |
thinking of her little children,
and of how she might best train I
them to love and to follow Him
who once came as a child to earth, i
when they ran forward with their
glad shou't of " Meiry Christmas, i
mamma,\"~The Child's Companion. \
TABLE MANNERS. |
Everybody said that Fred was i
a bad boy at table. He spilt the \
salt, he upset his mug of milk,
and he knocked over his glass of ,
water He found fault with I
" I hope you won't spill your
soup over your jacket when
you're a real man," said his little
sister.
" Men don't wear jackets," Fred
answered, " That's all girls know
about it."
One day, when his father was
late to tea, Fred slipped into his
place, and began to ask the other
children what they would have,
in a big voice.
Presently his father caino in
ond took Fred's seat ; but ho was
hardly seated before he astonished
Fred by pushing his plaie away
and snarling out that he did'ut
We have a family mis-
sionary society of which
I am ])resident, Mr. S
vice-president, Everett the
secretary, and Gertie the
treasurer, while Florence
and the baby are honorary
members. Wo have month-
ly meetings and a family
box for collections. Everett
conducts a paj>cr called the
Missi'itiary Glrniier, and has
prepared some editorials of
which his parents are quite
proud. The others have
recitations, — except the
baby, — and wo sing of
course. Now, I do not sup-
pose our children are un-
usually bright, but we have
really been surprised to
see how mueh interest
they take, and how well
they succeed.' 1 will send
something which I prepar-
ed for Florence, and
which she speaks with
great gusto:
" Tb*ra *n muy little chlldica
Aw*T MroM tha im
Wko do sot know thai Jmui
Ono* dlod (or tbom sod ma.
" What itaall I do to liolp thoB r
I'll loll 7oa Id m mlaaio :
For whoa you paoo tba box atoud
I'll put wmo ponnioa In It"
A Minister's Wife..
-Christian Intelligencer.
The Best Application for the
improvement of the countenance
is a mixture in equal parts of
serenity and cheerfulness. Anoint
the face morning, noon and
night.
The Temperate are the most
luxurious. By abstaining from
most things, it is surprising how
many things we enjoy. — 8imm$.
-«H9
r
IJKI'HINTKn STOIMKS. KHOM TIIK
"OUANDrA, vol- 1)1) UXJK SWEET."
KT M. r.
.(iKt think <)f II, i|i-4r ilri«n<l|>a|i*,
" NonTIIKRN MKSSKNOKR."
ThH .lay Miiiiift t.> ....
Mjr liirlliiUy 'II.— I'm fuiir yr«J,„M—
l.a«l tiiiiA I wii< Iriit thrii'.
AikI .It •mall girl^i ami flr« touU Ixiyt
Art! ciiiiiitiijTirr* l<> IM,
Anil you inuil Iw w Ixkutiful
Aj t»r yim c«n In'.
T«rm« (Ifi.Tf r'« |{ranilM|w
llw K"i nil hair at all ; •
IU> hntil •liiiiM— ihimuh h«'« rtry nie^
.'ii>t lik« *n Iv'ry l«Tl
Am'I 1 )jii.-M nhe'll 1ki awful ii'|iri«iKl,
Ami all tliiiiia oiiiir ulrla,
Anil •mall iKiyatuii, wficii lliey •••you
With lau u( pntly curli.
now DOLLY LKAHNED HEH
" Dollv ! "
Mri Millttr wnitnd «nra«whnt
imiMtiontly (or a rutpouio, but
iiono carao.
" Dorothoa ! "
Now, thu young lady liildioiuiod
wan littiiiff iit a coxy littln liod-
room, which boru lUimiNtitkahli)
cridenco that itN owiitti wiia imt
thu iiuatflRt individual in (hu
world DolU' waH hondiiii^, with
llushod chi'k'and ihiiiiiig ''Vi'n,
over tho aih iMturt*i« of u no It'ia
intereating and hinfh-horn portion-
ago than " Ivanhoo," an<l it ri>.
quired a third NninmonH I'rnm hi'r
inothnr to trnnnport hor from tho
horrorn of tho ciistlo of Frout-<lo-
B(Baf to actual ovory-day lifo.
" Dorothoa Miller!"
" Yos'm, I am coming."
Now, Dolly's fnco w«« iiNually a
very pleaannt one, hut it must he
confeasod that it wit* ntther a
pouting little girl wh > Ntoo<l he-
aido Mrs. Miller a few minntea
lator.
" Is your room duatud and put
in order, dear ? " asked Mra. Miller,
glancing at " Ivanhoo," which
'oily atiU surveyed with longing
eyes.
" No, mamma ; I got to reading
and forffot to dust it. '
Mrs. Miller aighed wearily ; her
forgetful littlo daughter was s
groat trial to her energetic, wide-
awake nature.
" You may as well put away
your book at once, Dolly, for
Bridget has gone home for a day
or two to see her Histor, who is
sick, and 1 want you to take care
of Toodlea this morning. First folded neatly away in tho bureau
you can wash the breakfast dishea drawer, and Dolly herself ready
and put them away, then put to amuse Toodlea — otherwise
your own room Ihornugkl)/ in Master Huntingdon Miller — till
order, and by that time I shall it was time to put him to sleep,
have to go to market, and yon can For a while Toodles was reat-
play with Toodlea till it is time less and noiay, insisting on Dolly's
for his nap. If I am not home playing she was a horse, so that
by eleven, you can put him to he conld have the pleasure of
sleep." driving her around the room with
Down on the table went " Ivan- his new reins and whip; butprea-
hoe"with a bang, and Dolly ently he became so absorbed in
turned crossly toward tho pantry, his endeavors to discover what
slamming tho door as she entered, made his woolly dog bark, that
and stepping on Hero's tail in a Dolly, who was breathless from
manner that brought that usually running, had a chance to rest
peaceable dog to his feet with a for a moment,
vicious growl that displayed two " Ivanhoe" still lay on the sit.
rows of gleaming tooth, and ting-room tabio, and (he temp-
warned his little mistres.s not to tatioii was too strong. ".lust to
vent her displeasure on him. see how Rowona escapes trom the
" I don't believe liowena ever j ciistle, and thou I won't read
had to wash dishes because the|anoth'i word till I putToodlesto
cook's mother was sick," grumbled I bed," said Dolly to herself, as she
Dolly, maKing a great deal of un- ; opened at the fascinating chap-
necessary noise, and splashing as tor, with tho firm resolution to
she dropped tho silver into the , only read a few minutes,
pan of hot water " I'd .just like] The town clock was just chim-
to break every one of these hato-iinir half-past eleven when Mrs.
ful dishes; and I'd do it too, only Miller, having finished her
papa would make me pay for them | errands, came quietly up-stairs,
out of my Christmas money, and 1 1 expecting to find Toodles taking
want to buy a silver banglo with | his nap, and Dolly ready to help
11 lay
'I ic. iiiy |iarly jruii mu.t r.
AimI li(.t|i iiJi |il
fill',
, ly aihl laiiuh ;
iililii'i luvr ■ lilrlli.lav, .liMir,
I'iiImk I ^avi- you half.'
Aiul you ahall Imv,, ihn yiry hint
))f xviTylhlnu to Ntl.
Ami How y.iur hair i. iloiin, aiul, o
Oraiiiliia, y.iu ilu look twmt I
—Uarftr't Vwtiij/ /'witfa.
that. O dear! I'll never finish
these dishes ! "
But "never" is a long day ; and
ju scarcely more than a half hour
the aiBhea wore put away, Dolly's
room ousted, nor clean clothes
I!
8M«
her to prepare dinner ; but as she
passed the sitting-room door, she
glanced in to see a sight calculated
to exasperate the meekest woman
m tho world — which Mrs, Miller
was not.
It had long been the ambition
of Toodles' life to obtain possession
of the ink tha4. stood on his
mother's writing-desk ; and find-
ing that Dolly was too deeply in-
terested in reading to notice him,
ho had succeeded in lifting down
the coveted treasure, and had
conceived the delightful idea of
dyeing all the animals in his
Noah's Ark. Notioiiio; tho streams
of ink that fell on the carpet, ho
had wiped them up with his dress,
but finding that too small, was
proceeding to use Doily's silk
handkerchief for a towel, when his
mother's exclamation of dis-
pleasure startled both him and
Dolly.
'• (io into tho cellar, Dorothea,
and bring me a cup of milk to take
out these stains ; then turn on the
hot water in the bath-room and
give Toodles a thorough washing
and put him to bed. Then come
to mo and give an account of
these proceedings this morning."
Mrs. Miller was still working
over her ruined carpet when
Dolly came creeping in to tell the
wretched little story of her care-
lessness and disobedience.
" Please take 'Ivanhoe,' mamma,
andkeep it till you think I deser/e
to finish it; and indeed I will
truly try never to bo so thought-
less again if you will forgive me
this once," sobbed Dolly peni-
tently.
— if
" Yes, dear, I forifive you ; and
I think my little daughter has
learned u Ionnhii she will never
forgot," answered her mother
gently.
Dolly is n woman now, but she
hna never forirotlon that day's
experieiieo ; and when her own
little Dorothoa is absent-minded,
or fitrgotlul, her mamma tells her
of the day " when I was a littlo
girl and let Uncle Huntingdon
spill X\k\iin)i."—l'rtibyterian.
FAITH.
I am often reminded, in my
daily intercourse with tho little
ones, of our Haviour's words,
" Unless ye have faith as a littla
child "
A few months siiico the grand.
mother of tho family ((uietly
brenlhod her last in this worlil,
and as tho baby of the family,
my little six-year-old niece, was
"iir led from tho room, I ex.
Io her that we were not
bei'itme dear mother had
■aven, but because wo
n ii have her with us any
'le immediately replied,
jii<>criiig tones: —
but you know, auntie,
her fi»ie had come, and Ood sent
I'or her ; don't you know ? " And
then added, rather oznitingly,
"Oh wim't you be glad when our
time comeSjauntie ? "
I felt mhamed to think how
how much stronger her faith was
than mine. I often am reminded
how true it is that " out of tho
mouths of babes and sucklings
Thou hast perfected praite,"—
Word and Work.
I
pi
CI
Win
moi
in mo.^
" Oh
Pray roa Him. — Gelele, King
of Dahomey, is one of the bloodiest
of tyrants. The Rev, T. W. Win-
field, who hod been endeavoring to
re-establish a school at Whydah,
recently received the following
message from him : " Tho king
wishes to inform you that his peo-
ple cannot be allowed to read your
book, and yoii cannot have a school
hereto teach the children about
the white man's God. If you talk
to the people about this book of
yours, they will not worship tho
fetish, and we cannot do without
fetish in this country. If you
like to come here to trade, to sell
cloth, and guns, and rum, we shall
be fflad ; but we cannot have your
book."
TnuE worth is in being, not seem-
iug;
In doing each day that goes by
Some littlo good, not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their
blindness.
And spite of the fancies of youth.
There is nothing so kingly as
kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth,
— Selected.
truth, < I
'ecled.j^
^t4
CH9
REPRINTKD STOKIKS. FROM 'IHE "NORTHERN MKS.SENr.KU.
«*4g
I' '
WILLIE'S CARRIER-PIGEON.
Willie's father wasaspa-cnptain,
and sailed all over the world.
When he came home from a long
voyage Mie full, •■mniig other
things he bro'-ght Willie u c nricr.
pigeoii This is ■. liirH that looka
like the dove al)out our streets,
only it has been taught to carry
letters from place to place.
Willie was very fond of his
pigeon, and loved it more than his
dog or kitten. Often when he
went to see his aunt, who
lived a few miles away, he took
the pigeon with him. Then he
would send it back home with a
letter for his mother.
Willie would tell his aunt what
to write Then he would tie the
letter around the bird's neck, and
away it would fly toward home.
One day the pigeon got lost in
a storm.
Willie had sent his bird home
with a letter, not seeing the great
black clouds that were filling the
sky When his aunt came in
from a neighbor's, she said, " Have
you let the Djgeon go, Willie ! "
Wilhe toTd her^ it had
gone.
"I
]USt
afraid you
said his
and there
have
aunt.
will
done
•' It
be
am
wrong,"
sprinkles
gale."
" Willie looked out and saw
how dark it was. " I wish I could
call him back," he said. "Oh, I'm
so sorry ! " But the bird was far
away. •^
It flow over a large wood
where there was a big boy hunt-
ing. The boy lired at the pigeon,
' but it flew on unhurt.
Then the wind and rain struck
the bird, and drove it from its
course. The poor little thing
tried to keep on, but it was no
use. It had to seek shelter among
the limbs of a large tree.
The next day it cleared away,
and Willie went home. The first
words he said to his mother were,
" Did my pigeon get home all
safe ? "
Then he saw by his mother's
look that it had nof come.
" Oh, dear, dear ! " he said,
" what made me send it ? Perhaps
it has been blown out to sea."
For the sea was not far away
All that day Willie would not
be comforted His eyes were red
with crying for hia pet.
Before night, as he was stand-
ing in the door, looking up into
ths sky. he saw a bird flying
toward him.
Was it his ?
" Yes, its mine, it's mine ! " he
cried. " O mother, my birdie's
coming back !"
Nearer and nearer it came, till
at last, weary from its journey, it
nestled, panting, in Willie's arms.
Bftck from the wind and rata !
BIrdls, loat, is foDDd kictlD !
And Willio never let his pigeon
go out into another storm. — Our
Ltltle Ones.
The Bloodthirsty bate the
upright : but the just seek his
6oul — Prov. \x\x, 10
iupri(
soul
INSTANT IN SEASON.
At one of the Friday night
boys' meetings in the Tabernacle
a lad of about sixteen years, an
orphan boy, was the first to lead
in prayer. His testimony, shortly
afterwards, was noticed l)y all for
its earnestness and words of en-
couragement to those just starting
in Christian lite, and seemed to
come from one who was advanced
in the way altho«gh it was but a
year since he began. At the
" after-meeting " he was observed
to be busily engaged in leadin^j
the younginqnirers to the Saviour,
and in the last one to whom he
spoke he showed an unusual in-
terest. After the rest w«re gone
we hastened to speak to one who
seemed likely to make an excel-
lent worker in the meetings, and
with a heart full of interest he
made plans for the next week's
work. Sunday evening two boys
came to one of the workers, and
the eider said .
" Here's a boy that's found
Jesus,"
" I am glad to hear that ; and
where was it that you found
him ? "
" Right here, sir. in the room,"
said the little fellow, eai-nestly;
and then, in a hushed voice, he
added, " end the boy that talked
and prayed with me, and led me
to Jesus, was killed Saturday
morning."
Inquiries were made, and it
was learned that the lad was
coming to his work Saturday
morning as usual, and becoming
confused in some way, stepped in
front of an approaching railway
train and was instantly cniahed
to death.
Monday morning, as we stood
by the side of that cofBn, and
looked upon the bruised and
mangled form of that young dis-
ciple, we gathered therefrom a
lesson of instant service. Bv the
side of the dead, with bowed
head, we prayed God that we
might bo faithful ever to the
living, and withal came the
thought, " It is well ! His last
night's work was for Christ, and
it was well done. ' Go thou and
do likewise. ' " — Little Christian.
A PRAYER
TRC OO^HAMD.
" Prs7 without osulDg. In •▼erjthlns
giretkanki."— 1 Them. r. 17, 18.
TBI PBOHISI.
" U re ihall uk t,nj thing la mjr n*Bt,
I wUl d(. it."-John xlT. 14.
TBI TBBEATDfllia.
" Poor out thy (urr npon th* fkmiliM
thst oall not on thy nam*."— Jer. z. 2B.
Lord, teach me to pray. Send
thy Hol^ Spirit to take away my
heart of stone, and to give me a
new heart ; that I may feel mTself
a sinner, and my need of Christ
to be my Saviour. Wash away
my sins in his precious blood;
clothe me in the spotless robe of
his righteousness ; and, O Lord,
sanctify me, by thy blessed Spirit,
that I may be enabled to serve
thee epiritually on earth, and bo
fitted for thy presence in glory.
make all sin hateful to me.
Deliver me from th3 temptations
of Satan, and an ensnaring world,
and teach me to watch and piay
against them. As my blessed
Saviour left me an example, that
1 should follow his steps, may I
oftentimes ask myself during the
day, if thinking, how he would
have thought ; — if speaking, what
he would have said ;— or when
acting, what he would have done.
teach me to love prayer, and to
love to read and obey thy holy
word Bless all my friends with
every needful blessing, especially
with the saving knowledge of
Jesus Christ. I thank thee for
the blessings of health, and food,
and clothing; but, above all, I
desire to bless thee for the gift of
a Saviour, whose precious blood
cleanseth from all sin, and who
ever livc^h to make intercession
for us. I ask every blessing in
the name of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, who has taught us
to pray, — Our Father which art
in heaven, &c. &c. — The Re-
ligiout Tract Society,
n
PRAY, AND HANG ON.
A venturesome six-year-old boy
ran into the forest after the team,
and rode home in triumph on the
load.
When his exploit was related,
his mother asked if he was not
frightened when the team was
coming down a very steep hill.
" Yes, a little," said he, " but I
askoa the Lord to help me, and
hung on like a beaver ! "
The boy's philosophy was good.
Some pray but do not hang on ;
some hang on but do not pray
The safe way and right way is to
join prayer and labor, faitn and
works, zeal and patience, and so
give all diligence to make our
calling and election sure.
«H9
that we
T to tho
same the
His last
hrist, and
thou and
a •▼tnthing
18.
In my n*at,
tht temiUM
fer. X. 26.
ray. Send
( away my
give me a
feel myself
i of Christ
^ash away
ouB blood ;
!ss robe of
I, O Lord,
>B8cd Spirit,
>d to serve
:th, and bo
e in glory,
ful to me.
temptations
tring world,
h and pi ay
uy blessed
ample, that
:ep8, may I
daring the
r he would
aking, what
•_oT when
1 have done.
ayer, and to
(y thy holv
'riends with
;, especially
>wledge of
ik thee for
and food,
bove all, I
. the gift of
cious olood
n, and who
interceaaion
blessing in
and Saviour
« taught lu
which art
'..—The Re-
NG ON.
year-old boy
er the team,
iimph on the
was related,
he was not
team was
steep hill.
1 he, " but I
elp me, and
!"
hy was good,
lot hang on ;
lo not pray
ht way is to
>r, iaitn and
snce, and so
.0 make onr
r
REPRINTED STORIKS, FHO.M
sure.
SHELLS.
There, I have just lipped over
my shells again ! I will pick them
up one by one, and put them
back in the basket. They reminil
me of many a pleasant rambh^
I've had on the seashore and thi>
lake-side, where I have gathenul
them from time to time.
Each one, too, has a little story
about itself to tell. Shall 1 write
down some of the stories of those
children of the water ? I think
you will like to read them.
Here is one of the bivnlves. It
is in two pieces joined by a hinge,
like an oyster-
shell. ltwear«
afihinini^dress
of many colors
But 1 must let
the univalves
speak first; for they have smaller
mouths than bivalves, and cannot
talk so fast.
Here is one that snvt,, " I am
the shell of the snail, a tiny ani-
mal that built me little by little,
as he grew. He belonged to a
large family.
He ha(^ cousins
on the land,
and cousins on
the sea, but
could not tra-
vel far to visit th . . and he
carried me wit*-, him .vherever he
went.
" WhtiU ;.>(> saw uny thing that
he 7 a.i ;ifr»l>; of, he would draw
hif hev.o a foot under me very
quickly, iMid cling close to my
side. He I i>imt most of his life
under th":: lily -pads in a lake.
Sometime s 1 e would titko a short
journey up the stem of the lily,
to where tkie great leaf rested on
the water; then he would turn
and have a ride on the ripples,
using me as a boat. One morn-
irg s giant bird, called a crane,
made his breakfast of the snail,
and I was left empty on the
shore."
"That is a good
my snail roamed with
meat will. But we ven-
tured, one day, too far
from the wHter, and were
left behind. My snail
died, and I was put in
your basket I should
» rather be in tho sea
" And Ko should I,"
says the shell that I next
take uj) ; " for I was the
qucei, of all the shells. I
li\\.l h\ the warm, sunny
waters, u'^ar the land
the palm-tree grows. I
great many colls lined
with pearl. They were made by
a bravo little boatman named
Nautilus, who grew so fast that
he needed a larger room every
year. You will break me, some
day, if you don't handle me more
carefully, and then you can count
THK "NORTIIEUN MESSENGER
CHARLIE'S PRESENT.
Charlie's father had been gone
where
have a
my rooms, and see for yourself
that my story is true."
" How do you do ? " says a.
dain t y w hite shell, not very pretty,
but plain and neat. " I am the
money-cowrv. Members of my
family are otfrried about and used
for money in .some countries.
We are sought
for hke silver
and gold. You
may not think
much of us here;
but there are places where one
cowry is as good as a penny. We
are prized for our worth, if not
for our beauty."
The shell that I now take up is
one of the limpet family. I pulled
it off a rock one day after the tide
went out. 1 1 18 beginning to talk.
This is what it says : " I k^ow all
about limpets, for I an i a limpet-
.^^■^^fSmmt^ '' 11 ; and I
^*f:^r^^^*» ... to tell
you th;;t lim-
. pet.-' and chil-
^dren are very
p much ahke in
some thingii.
often cling ;c a
.atif-k until Hh
the same ugly
of his cousins who
deep sea. I am a
story, ',ays
thi^ •ihinii'g
coi'. " fo-
the sho'
of 8 frcsl.
water siiRfi
I am .he
shell f f one
lived id tho
thicker aid
" A limpet will
homely weed or
tihei; pi iv's ir.'u
r,!;'„;ie. .lust fo a ohild will some
times be spr leu
bad H:;Mt. Li:
a whole week, and Charlie had
tried very hard to be good, and
do all his chores well and prompt-
ly. Living on a farm many things
had to bo done which required a
great deal of patience, and as
Charlie'sfather said beforeleaving,
" Boys at ten years of age were
not always faithful in doing
chores." Charlie had tried harder
than ever to succeed this time,
and his mother had told him, the
day before his father came home,
that everything had been done
properly and in order, which
made Charlie happy.
Little Max,his youngest brother,
was a constant care to his mother.
He was three years old, and just
the right age to be up to all kinds
of mischioT. Charlie was very
patient with Max, and tried hard
to do all he could to amuse him,
and in tho evening Charlie would
'ake him on hia knee, and make
funny shadows on the wall, until
Max would laugh in high glee,
and try his own chubby little
fingers at making shadows.
One evening Charlie made the
shadow of a rabbit, and Max
wanted to take it in his hand.
Charlie tried to explain why he
could not, but it did not seem to
satisfy Max, and the last words
he said before going to bed were,
" I can take him in the morning,
can't I, Charlie?"
In the evening, Charlie's father
came home, and was quite pleased
to hear how well Charlie had
done all things intrusted to his
care, besides being helpful to his
mother in taking so much care of
httle Max.
" I have brought you a present,
Charlie," said his father, " and if
you will go out to the waggon,
yon will find a large basket which
you may bring in."
Charlie started at a quick pace,
but before he got half way to the
waggon, he thought he heard a
scratching noise. Yes, there it
was again. When he lifted the
basket out of the waggon, thump
against the cover of the basket
went something which made
Charlie come very near dropping
the basket. Charlie wondered
what it could be, it was so heavy.
When he reached tho house his
mother opened the door, and as
he set his basket on the floor, his
father untied the cover of the
basket, and out jumped a beauti-
by clinging to a ful white rabbit.
pets have eyes, Charlie was delighted, he had
my
colors ire
harder shell, and
far brighter..
" My homo was among the sbk-
weeds, and the waves were my
ik carriage. I rode often to the
• » bright sand on tho beach, where
Sh9 —
as a^U 88 children, and should 1 wtshed so many, many times for
', low b'tter.' ;8 rabbit. Charlie found a box,
Withthesewiseremarksfromthejand made a nice bed for Bunny,
• ;i „ I the talk of tho shells ended ' and alter seeing him safely tucked
•or I he c'v. I had not time to I away for the night, Charlie went
>t tho bivaives say a word. The
j>e«fi-cyster and m iny others
wnnted' to ^rneak ; but they sub-
mitted quietly N'hi'.e I put them
all back in the basket.— TAe Nur-
sery.
.Son, go work to-day in my vine-
yard. -Matthew ixi. 28.
to bed to dream of tho nice times
they would have together. In
the morning Charlie's first thought
was of Bunny. Quickly dressing
himself, he came down stairs and
looking into the box found Bunny
gone. Charlie hunted high and
low, but without success. At last,
little Max came down stairs, and
125
after hearing tho story of Bunny's
flight, tried to help in the hunt
for him.
"'Spose him on the wall, Char-
lie, I go soe," said Max, and ofl he
toddled, which made them all
laugh, and Max, not liking to be
laughed nt, slipped into the corner
where hung bis father's overcoat,
and in trying to pull a part of it
over his face, the coat fell to the
floor, when out jumped Bunny
from one of the pockets, which
caused Max to laugh heartily, and
when Charlie caught Bunny and
gave him to Max, his joy knew
no bounds, and with a satisfied
look at Charlie, he said, " I can
take him now, Charlie, 'cause he
is so tired staying on the wall,"
and as Charlie always shared his
little pet with Max, they enjoyed
many happy hours together. —
Irene Lunl in Household,.
THE BROKEN WINDOW.
A very pleasant incident oc-
curred in one of our public schools
some time ago. It seems that the
boys attending the school, of the
average age of about seven years,
had in their play of bat and ball
broken one of the neighbors' win-
dows, but no clue to the offender
could be obtained, as he would
not confess, nor would any of his
associates expose him. The case
troubled the teacher, and on tho
occasion of one of our citizens
visiting the school, she privately
and briefly stated the circum-
stances, and wished him, in some
remarks lo the school, to advert
to the principle involved in the
case. The address to the school
had reference principally to the
conduct of boys in the streets and
at their sports — to the principles
of rectitude and kindness which
should govern (hem everywhere,
even when alone, and when they
thought no one could see, and
there was no one present to ob-
serve. The scholars seemed
deeply interested in the remarks.
A very short time after the visitor
left the school, a little boy rose in
his seat, and said —
" Miss Low, I batted the boll
that broke Mr. Jones' window.
Another boy threw the ball, but I
batted it and struck the window.
I am willing to pay for it."
There was a death-like silence
in the school as the boy was speak-
ing, and it continued a minute
after he had closed.
" But it won't be right for him
to pay the whole," said another
boy rising in his seat. " All of us
that were playing should pay
something, because we were all
alike engaged in the play. I'll
pay my share."
" And I," " And I, " said several
voices.
A thrill of pleasure ran through
the school at this display of cor-
rect feeling. The teacher's heart
was touched, and she felt more
than ever tho responsibility of her
charge. — Batul of Hope Review.
i
i
126
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN Mf SSENGER."
THE
m
DISCOVHRY OP THE world. The body was still too
MAMMOTH. firmly attached and frozen to
BY 0. F. HOI/DER. permit of removal. For four
At tho close of the lust century, successive years the fishermen
a poor fisherman named Shnmar- visited it, until finally, in March,
hoflriived near the mouth of the 1804, five years after its original
Lena River, which flows through discovery it broke away from its
the cold Siberian country and is icy bed and came thundering
lost in the icy waters of the Arctic down upon the sands below. The
Sea In the summer, he plied discoverers first detached the
his vocation on the sea-coast, and tusks, that were nine feet six
during the long winter lived far inches in length, and together
up the river, where it was, per- weighed three hundred Rnd sixty
haps, a little warmer. It is safe pounds. The hide, covered with
to say that ShumarhofF would I wool and hair, was more than
never have made a great noise in twenty men could lift. Part of
the world— in fact, would never ' this with the tusks, were taken
have been heard of— had it not | to Jakutsk andsold for fiftyrubles
been for a wonderful discovery
he made while coming down the
n
river one spring. The river-banks
of this cold country are quite
peculiar Those on the
western side arc gener-
ally low and marshy,
while those on the east-
ern arc often from sixty
to one hundred feet in
height. In the ex tremo
north, thishigh elevation
is cut into numerous
pyramidal-shaped
mounds, which, viewed
from the sea or river,
look exactly as if they
had been built by man.
In the summer, these
strange formation? are
free from snow, and to
a depth of ten feet are
soft ; but below this they
are continually frozen,
and have been for un-
told ages. They are
formedof layers of earth
and ice — sometimes a
clear stratiun of the
latterniaiiy feet in thick-
ness.
It was before such n
mound that our fisher-
man stopped, dumb
with astonishment, one
spring morning, so
many years ago About
thirty feet above him,
half-way up the face of
the mound, appeared
the section of a jrreat
ice-layer frum which
the water was flowing
in numberless streams ;
while protruding from it, and
partly hanirinij over, was an
animal of sucii huiro proportions
that the sim|ih> tishorinan could
hardlv bcliove his I'ves. Two
trigautic liorns or tusks w^re
visit)l«\ and a groat woolly body
was faintly outlined in the blue.
ioy mass In thf fall, he relat.'d
the story to h\- roraiMdi's up the
riv.T, and in the ensuing s|)iin!r,
with a party of his fi'llow-lisliiT-
men, he again visited ihi- spot,
A year had workiMl wondors.
Thi> trreat mass hail thawed out
stillicii'Mtly to show its nature,
and on close iiispfrtioii proved to
be a wi>ll-presprved spi'iinien of
one of thosi' !jn;aiitio exlini t hairy
elephants th; t r'>!inii'il ovi'r the
northern jiarts of IJurope and
America in fli'> I'arlier airi's of the
while the rest of the animal was
left where it fell, and cut up at
various times by the Jakoutes,
who fed their dogs with its flesh.
with the exception of one fore leg,
while all the other bones were
still held together by the liga-
ments and flesh, as if the animal
had been dead only a few weeks.
The neck was still covered by a
long mane of reddiih wool, and
over thirty pounds more of the
same colored wool or hair were
collected by the scientist from the
adjacent sand, into which it had
been trodden by bears and other
animals of prey. In this condition
the mammoth with the tusks,
which were repurchased in Jak-
utsk, was taken to St. Petersburg
and there mounted.
Our illustration depicts this
very specimen, representing it as
it appeared when alive and mov-
ing along with ponderous tread
through the scanty woodland of
giants of the north, and every-
thing must have given way before
them.
Tusks of this animal had been
discovered previous to Shumar-
hofTs find, and have been found
since in such great quantities that
vessels go out for the sole purpose
of collecting them. Eechscholtz
Bay, near Behring Strait, is a
famous place for them, and num-
bers hare also been found in
England. It is stated that the
fishermen of Happisburgh have
dredged up over two thousand
mammoth teeth during the past
twelve years — a f^^ct showing that
a once favorite resort, or perhaps
burying-ground, of these great
creatures, is now covered by the
ocean. In the cliff's of Northern
Alaska remains of the mammoth
are often seen, and the
New Siberian Islands
recently visited by the
I I Arctic explorer, Baron
i i i Nordenskjold, are lib-
i i I ^ errj'v supplied with
♦ hese, as well as re-
mains of Other and
equa'lv interesting ex-
tinct :.iid fossil animals.
The mammoth was so
called from a curious
belief among the
Siberians that this
enormous animal lived
in caverns under the
ground, much after the
fashion of a mole.
Many of the tusks and
bones were found
buried in the frozen
earth, and it was the
natural conclusion that
the animal lived there
when alive They be-
lieved it could H' t
bear the light of <?Ay ;
and so dug op'„ wit'i
its tusks geu tunnels
in the earih. — sy ^Vi.
<:hoia.i.
THE MAMMOTH OF ST. PETERSBUBO.
A strancre feast this, truiy — meat
that had been frozen solid in the
ice-house of Nature perh .ps fifty
thousand years.* more or less ;
but so wi'il was it preserved, .hat,
when thi! brain was afterward
compared with that of n recently
killed animal, no dili'erence in the
tissues could be detected.
Two years :.iter the animal
had fallen from thi> clili, the new.s
reached St. Petersburg, and the
Musi'umof Natural History sent a
scientist to secure the specimen
and j)Uri;hase it for the Emperor,
Ilu louiid the mammoth where it
orieinally fi'li, but much torn by
animals, especially bv the white
benr.s and foxes. The massive
skeleton, however, was entire,
' AreorilInK M %ilr Wllllkni Logu, fram Art
huailred thouHkD'l to one mttUon jMri Ago.
the northern countries. Its length
is twenty-six feet, including the
curve of the tusks ; it stands six-
teen feet high, and when alive it
probably weighed more than
twice as much as the largest living
elephant. And, as some tusks
have been found over fifteen feet
in length, we may rpasona))ly
conclude that Shumarhofl's mam-
moth is only an average speci'nen,
and that many of its conipaiu'.n >
wore considerably larger.
Imagine the spectacle ol a large
herd of these mighty creatures
rushing along over the frozen
ground, the reverberation of their
tread sounding like thunder.
When enraged, their wild, head-
long course must have been one
of terrible devastation. Large
trees were but twigs to these
THREE BLACK
RATS.
The Rev. .1. Yeames
tells an anecdote of a
drunkard reclaimed by
the curious means of a
dream. The dream
was of three black rats ; one
was a fat one, the second a
blind one, and the third a pjor
lean one. The man < oiild not get
the dream out of his heuf.i, and at
length his son gave him the iii-
terpretation of it in this vise: —
The fat rat was the publican, the
blind one was the father, the
victim of drink, and the poor one
was the family, the prey of misery
and want. — The Freeman.
WuoEVEii searches the bio-
graphies of our most eminent and
useful men and women, will bo
8uri)ri8ed to find how many of
iheni got their best start in life m
the way in which, early in life,
they were moved to spend their
w inter evenings, — Congregation-
(ilist.
^
eH9
lul every-
day before
hud been
. Shumar-
!en found
ntitiea that
le purpose
Ischscholtz
trait, is a
and num-
found in
. that the
argh have
tnousand
J the past
owing that
)T perhaps
lese great
red by the
f Northern
mammoth
m, and the
an Islands
ited by the
rer, tiaron
d, are lib-
died with
rell as re-
uiher and
tresting ex-
sil animals,
oth was so
a curious
nong the
that this
nimal lived
under the
,ch after the
a mole.
! tusks and
>rc tound
the frozen
it was the
elusion that
lived there
They be-
could n' t
jht of -'.ly ;
; 01' 1, with
eu tunnels
h.-W. Ni-
BLACK
ITS.
.T. Yeames
lecdoto of ft
eclaimed by
means of a
he dream
k rats ; one
second a
hird a pjor
ouldnotget
Huuf.i, and at
him thrt J!i-
this y-.se: —
tuhlican, the
father, thu
the poor one
ray of misery
es the bio-
eminent and
len, will bo
w many of
tart in life rii
early in litV,
spend their
'ongregation-
«H»
RKPRINTED STOllIKS, KHO.M THE •' NOUTFtERN MESSENGKH."
LEC3ND OF THE ELE-
PHANT.
In connection with the employ-
ment of the elephant by man,
there is an allegorical fable which,
although it has probably no basis
of fact, may possess a certain in-
terest for those who are fond of
investigating the reasons of
things.
According to this story there
"' atone time,
The olophant listened with
groat attention, and when the
man had Uuished speaking he
replied ;
"Melons are very tempting,
for these we seldom find in the
forest, and fre&h leaves from the
luxuriant banyans which grow
about your houses are highly at-
tractive to elephants ; but, in spite
of the iuducemout.>* you oifer,
there are objections to the plan
was, at one time, a coraparntively
small number of elephants upon • y°" propose which will, I lear,
the earth, and these lived together ' pri'^unt it from being carried out.
in one great heij. They were ."•'"'' •"'''^"'^Pi one of your fam-
ciniet, docile animals, and did no ''•'^'.^ wished to get upon my back,
injury to any one. They were j""" 'f^y^ desired to place a heavy
formed, however, somewhat dif-
ferently from the elephant of the
present day. You may have
noticed that the hind legs of these
animals bend forward like the
«.4
!!
load thereon, it would be neces-
sary for me to lie down, wouldn't
it?"
" Oh, yes," said the man. " Our
women and children could never
_ of a man, Vvhilo the hinu ! climb up to your back while you
legs of nearly all other quadru- ! are standing, and we could never
peds bend out backward. In the ' reach hisrh eiiouu;h to place loads
days of which this allegory tells, 'upon it unless you should lie
the elephant's hind legs
were formed in the same
way : they bent out
backward like the legs
of a dog, a horse, or a
cow. The people in
that part of the country
where these elephants
lived had no beasts of
burden, or waggons, or
carts, and they often
thought what nu excel-
lent thing it would be
if the great, strong ele-
phants would carry
them and their families
about on their broad
backs, or bear for them
the heavy loads which
luoy were often ob-
Jigfd to carry from
p'.ace to place.
One day, several of
the men saw the leader
of the herd of elephants
standing in the shade
of a clump of trees, and
thoy went to him to
talk ui>on this subject.
They told him of' the
difllcultiis ihey had ir.
taking journeys with
their wives and children, es-
pecially in the rainy season, when
the ground was wet and muddy,
and explained to him how hard
it was for them to carry loads of
provisions and other things from
one village to another
" Now, twenty of these loads,"
said the spokesman of the men,
" woxild be nothing for one of you
to carry ; and if one of us, and all
his family, and even some of his
household goods, were upon ycui
great back, you could walk off
with ease. Now, what we wish
to propose to you is this: It some
of your herd will consent to carry
us when we wish to make a
journey, and to bear about our
heavy goods for us, we will give
you grass, rice, and banyan-leaves
and melons from our gardens, and
such other things as may be pro-
per, for your services. By this
arrnngeraeut both sides will bo
beuelited."
But some of the people, when
they heard this story, were not
willing to give up the matter so
easily. There was a witch of
great wisdom who lived in the
neighborhood, and they went
and consulted her. She con-
sidered the matter for three days
and nights, and then she told them
that, if they would give her twen-
ty pots of rice and a brass gong,
she would make it all right. The
twenty pots of rice and the brass
fong were speedily brought to
er ; and that night, when the ele-
phants were all fast asleep she
went to the place where they
were lying on the ground, or
leaning against the trees and be-
witched them. She managed her
witcheries in such a wi»y ihat
the hind legs of the elephants all
bent inward instead of outward,
as they had done before.
When the head elephant awoke
and walked from under the tree
selves up with what seemed to
them no trouble at all.
When all this was made known
to the men of the village, they im-
mediately urged upon the head
elephant that he and his compan-
ions should enter into their ser-
vice. An elephant was theretipon
ordered by his chief to lie down
and be loaded, and when the
men had tied an immense num-
ber of packages upon his bac' ,
he arose with apparent ease and
shambled away.
There being now no possible
objection to an elephant becoming
a beast of burden, these great
animals began to enter into the
service of man. But many of
them did not fancy labor, no
matter how able they might be to
perform it, and these separated
from the main herd and scattered
themselves over various parts of
Asia and Africa, where their de-
scendants are still found.
As has been said be-
fore, it is quite likely
that this story may not
be true ; but still the
facts remain that the
elephant's hind legs
bend forward just like
his fore logs, and that
he shambles along very
much as if he were all
shoulders, — St. Nicholas.
WHAT
OF
IS THE USE
SNAKES i
A SAVAGE PAIK,
down."
"There comes in the difficulty,"
said the elephant, " Our bodies
are so large and heavy that when
we lie down it is as much as we
can do to get up. Indeed, most of
us prefer to sleep leaning against
a tree,' because when we lie down
at nifrht we often find in the
moiuiiig that it is almost impos-
sible lor us to rise. Now, if we
'■nd it difticult to get up from the
ground when we have nothing
but ourselves to lilt, it is quite
plain that we could not rise at all
if we had a load upon our backs.
That is clear to your mind, is it
not?" ,,
" i^es," said the man, rather
nil 'niy, " 1 see that what you
say -ue. You would be of no
serviu J us if you could not get
up after we had placed our loads
upon your backs "
And he and his fellows returned
sadly to their village.
against which he had been leati-
ing, ho was very much surprised
at the change in his gait. He
shutflod along in a very different
way from that in which he had
always walked before.
" I feel as if I were all shoul-
ders,' he said to his wife.
" And well you may," said she,
" for your hind legs bend for-
ward, exactly like your fore
legs."
" And so do yours !" he cried, in
utter amazement.
The elephants who wei'o lying
down were awakened by this
loud couveraation, and, noticing
that many of their companions
were moving about in a very
strange way, thought it would be
a good idea to get up and see what
was the matter. To their aston-
ishment they arose with great
ease. Their hind legs were bent
under their heavy bodies, and
they were enabled to lift them-
C. C. Hopey, in his
very interesting work
on "Snakes," writes of
their usul'uluess as fol-
lows :
" Persons who dislike
snakes continually ask,
'What is thouseof them?'
In one habit that of-
fended I>ord Bacon,
namely, of ' going on
their belly,' lies one of
their grea e t uses, be-
cause that, together with
internal formation and
external covering, en-
ables them to pene-
trate where no larger car-
nivorous animal could venture,
into dark and noisome morasses,
bog jungles, swamps, amid the
tangled vegetation of the tropics,
where swarms of the lesser rep-
tiles, on which so many of them
feed, would otherwise outbalance
the harmony of nature, die, and
produce pestilence.
" Wondrously and exquisitely
constructed for their habitat,
they are able to esist where
the higher animals could not ;
and while they help to clear those
iuaccesftible places of the lesser
vermin, they themselves supply
food lor a number of the smaller
mammalia, which, with many
carnivorous birds, devour vast
numbers of young snakes. The
hedgehog, weasel,ichneumon,rat,
etc , and an immense number of
birds keep snakes within due limit
while the latter periorm their part
among the lesser creatures.
.1''
I'll;
u
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
128 _
QUEER FRriT OF AN OAK. hand, and stood quite slill, night
and day, not to disturb it.
Last autninn, I saw an oak-tree
bearing waat seemed to be small
" They arc sweeter than the
sweetest, the roses that grow in
brown r.pples. I picked one ol'i the garden, and all the blossoms
the8<>, split it, and I'ound that it
was a woody ball, with hollow
thorns which reached to its cen-
tre and stuck out their points be-
yond the rind. In each thorn was
a grub, or else a small ily.
Afterward, I found out that the
fly is called "Saw-fly," because
of a little saw which it has, and
that, in the spring, it finds its way
out through the tip of the thorn,
which the winter storms manage
to snap off.
Ouce free, the saw-fly alights on
some juicy branch of an oak-tree,
and in this cuts a groove with its
saw, and lays eggs. Then it pours
into the groove a magic fluid
which makes the branch change
its way of growing ; for now it
swells into a lump, inclosing the
eggs, which it wraps in cases. As
the eggs grow and chanire to grubs,
the cases become long and point-
ed, and the grubs feed on the
woody centre of the lump. There
they live, safe and undisturbed,
until the time comes for them to
10 turn to flies and begin work in
the open air.
The picture show.s just the look
and size ol' the brunch, the fruil,
the grub in the fruil, and the
saw-tly ; and at the i'oot arc a grub
and a liy dr.iwn larire to show
ihcm clearly.
Uraiichi's of the trees, with the
galls on, may be gathered while
the insects are yet in the first
stages. ;iud, if the slenis are i>ut
into a phial of water, under a glass
shade, the galls may be kept
until the perfect insect comes
forth.
Now, when you find an oak-
tree, this fall, with these apples,
or gall-nuts growing on it, you
will have a chance to look into
the matter, and see if all this is
exactly to, — 5<. .\iihi>/(is.
THE WISHING-STONE, AND
HOW IT WAS LOST.
BY EMII.V IirNTIVOTON MILLEIl.
It was so long ago that nobody
is alive who remembers anvthing
about it. There was aa old wo-
man, a hundred years ohl. Her
irrandinother told her the story,
and she wrote it down with a
herons feather — a great white
heron that llew ov(>r between
<lawii and dayliirht, and was only
a irray speck airainstthe gray sky.
The irrandinother was a witch,
and understood what the birds
said, and that is how she came to
hear tip' sparrows at Liliiury Ab-
bev say to ea<!h oilier it was a
irood ihing the wislung-slone was
lost, sine-' so mu' li trouble came
of it. This IS th<' true story of
how it happened : thi- brown
si)iirrow told it to the stone man
on the luuiniinent, while his mate
brooded her eirgs The stone man
held the nest m the hollow of his
have tongues of gold. When the
wind blows over them they ring
together, and the music is rare as
the Christmas chimes up in the
steeple,"
" I have heard it," said the mate,
ruffling her throat,
" There is a fountain. The
water goes up,up, high as the lark
goes, and when it comes down it
is all pearls, and rubies, and bits
of rainbows. It sings, too, and no
one can guess what the music is
like."
"I have heard it," said the mate,
her wings trembling with ecs-
tacy.
"The r id to the mountain
passes th, <.'h the garden, and
the gates .Tv; aliyny; open, be-
ever he flrst wished ; but if he
wished anything seliishly, he was
turned into a hard, smooth, stone,
and the Troll carried him away to
build his palace under-ground.
A great many people came into
the garden then, who never wont
out, but the Princess could not
undo the spell or take away the
stone. The last person who sat
upton it was a beggar-girl. She
was poor, she was lame, she was
hunchbacked, and she was always
hungry. She sat down upon the
stone, and laid her crutches on
the grass beside her. Two little
birds sang in her ear, one on the
right and one on the left. They
were enchanted too. One saug
' Wishiwas ! wishiwas !' and the
other sang ' Wishihad ! wishihad !'
So the beggar-girl looked up at
the blue sky and the bright drops
fallinir from the foautaiu and b«-
gan to wish.
QUEER FKUIT OF AN OAK
ca«se the Princess will have it so.
One is called Morning G-ate, and
that is where the people enter.
They go on by the rose-walk until
they come to the fountain. When
one looks through the spray, the ]
mountain is very beautiful ; all its 1
roads lie in sunshine, and the
citv seems nearby. So the peo-
ple hasten on, and presently they
cannot see the rose-garden, and
they iii'ver come back. I should
couic back, Petra."
".\nd I," said the little male but
the stone man listened, and did
not suy a word. ,
Long ago the wishing-stonc
" ' I wish all the
sick folk.", and the
tired folks, and the
lonesome folks could
come and hear what
the water sings
about, and what nice
talk the trees make
to the wind.'
'"Wishiwas! wishi-
had !' sang the little
birds and she wished
again.
"'I wish all the
poor children who
work in the mills,
and pick up rags
and never have
good limes, could
came here and smell
roses and feel the sunshine.'
" ' Wishihad I wish, wishihad !'
s'mg the birds, so soft she might
have thought the song was in her
heart.
" ' I wish all the poor babies,
and the very littlest children, and
the old, old people could come
here and look at the fountain, and
may be have a flower to keep for
their very own."
" Just as she said this she
sprang up, for the wishing-stone
began to sink into thegrouiid, and
when she turned about there was
nothing but a smooth little hollow
like a nest, brimtul of daisies and
th
lay by the i'ouiitain ; a broad, buttercups. For you see she had
white stone, like (hose in the Ab- broken the spell by wishing three
bey here. The stone was en- wishes for others, and never once
chanted. A Troll put it there, and ' thinking of herself. They say she
whoever sat upon it had what- [had all her wishes, but that was
the end of the stone, and for my
part I think it was well it was
lost. W^heii one has many wishes
some of them are sure to be fool-
ish."
'• That is very true," said the
mate ; but no one knew what the
stone man thought about it.
II
TURTLE'S EGGS.
BY E.MMA N. NELSON.
When little Gertie and Rath
were at their grandma's in the
country last summer, they saw
something that they never saw
before.
What do you think it was ? I
don't Bupiiosu you could guess if
you tried a week, so I will tell
you.
One day their Uncle Peter came
in with a lot of small, roand.whito
eggs, a little larger than the pretty
glass marbles you hare to play
with.
He had them in his hat, and
called to the little girls to come
and see them.
They dropped their tins — for
they were making mud pies — and
started for their uncle. They
looked at the small white eggs,
and wondered what kind of eggs
they were.
" These are turtle's eggs," said
Uncle Peter.
" Was the old turtle on the
nest when you found them '("
asked the children.
At this question he was very
much amused, and you ought to
have seen how astonished they
looked when he told them that
his hired man had ploughed them
out of the soft earth, back of the
barn, not far from the creek.
Uncle Peter broke one of the
eggs, and in it was a little turtle,
perfect even to the "house on its
back."
There were flfty-six eggs in all.
Only think, if the eggs had not
been disturbed, what a band of
little turtles would have found
their way to the creek !
The mother turtle scoops out
with her hind feet a hollow in the
sand or dry earth, in which she
lays her eggs, and the heat of the
sand or earth hatches them. She
never gives herself any trouble
about her children, and they take
care of themselves as soon as they
come out of the sand.
The children's uncle told them
of the differcDt varieties of turtles,
and that some of them were used
for food.
They listened with the closest
attention, and when ho had fln-
ished they scampered off. Gertie
to finish their baking, and Ruth
to "get the turtle soup going for
dinne r." — Ziun's Ilernld.
If I Have Faith in Christ, I
shall love hiin ; if I love him, I
shall keep his commandments ; il
I do not keep his commandments,
I do not love him, I do not believe
in him. — Thomas Adam.
l\
^H9
eHB
lid for my '
A\ it wfts
jny wishes
to bo fool-
" said the
ff what the
lut it.
iOS.
son.
and Rath
ua'a in the
, they aaw
never saw
it was ? I
lid guess it'
I will tell
) Peter came
round.white
m the pretty
lave to play
his hat, and
rls to come
eir tins — for
id pies — and
iiicie. They
white eggs,
kind of eggs
's eggs," said
irtle on tho
und them '■"
he was very
you ought to
oniehed they
Id them that
oughed them
I, back of the
he creek.
Le one of the
a little turtle,
■' house on its
)ix eggs in all.
eggs had not
lat a band of
1 have found
:ek!
le scoops out
k hollow in the
in which she
the heat of the
es them. She
[f any trouble
, and they tako
06 soon as they
id.
ncle told them
ietiesof turtlec,
lem were used
ith the close Bt
an ho had lin-
red off. Gertif
ing, and llutli
soup going for
-raid.
TH in Christ, I
I love him, 1
imandments ; )l
ommandmentR,
I do not believe
Adam.
r*
DEEP-SEA AVONDERS.
One of those prying fellows,
the naturalists, has been bringing
queer live things from more than
half a mile deep in the ocean,
where there are no voices, and
the day is almost as dark as the
night. Of course, ho himself did
not go down for them, but he
sank a dredge, or open-mouthed
bag, fastened to a rope, and
dragged it along the bottom. The
things shown in the picture came
up in this dredge, not very long
ago.
The lower of the two beautiful
liliig''eu marvels is a sponge, and
its stalk is a bundle of about three
hundred threads of glassy stuff
called silica. Indeed, this ma-
terial glistens as if it were ni re-
ality the finest spun-glass ; and,
although the silvery web is so
dehcate, it is able to withstand
the tremendous pressure of th»
water all about it. The other
sponge, with its spreading roots,
has been dragged out of the mud
and is floating in the water.
Those too-many-legged shrimps
once frolicked about in their cold,
sunless, soundless home, among
myriads of just such lovely forms
as these. — AY Ni<-lmla.i.
REPR INTKD STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
129
summer dress. Squirrels are also
imported in large numbers, es-
j/ecially from Kasan, in Russia,
but thoy are rather inferior to
other sorts. There are various
modes of dressing eu'-.irrel skins.
The Russian skins are pickled in
salt, and in consequence are apt
to feel damp in wet weather.
They do very well in Russia, as
the weather there is always dry.
In this country the skins are
dressed with butter or lard, and
it is a remarkable thing that the
Russian furriers cannot use but-
ter dressed skins, because in
Russia the skins thus prepared
become quite hard in very cold
weather. For years past the
j trade of dressing squirrel skins
has had its head-quarters in Sax-
|ony, principally at the town of
I Weisseufels. Leipsic is celebrated
In the first place, to skin a cat
when alive would be utterly
impossible ; and secondly, it does
not make any difference in the
quality of the skin. The origin
of the fallacy is probably that a
cat is easier skinned immediately
after death than if allowed to be-
come rigid. It is very remarkable
how fashions set by English
ladies influence wild and tame
animals even in the most distant
parts of the world. It is fortun-
ate that ladies have made cats
fashionable, as at last some use
is foun 1 for these animals, which,
being U'ltaxed, are so abundant
that any night and in any weather
cats— many of them half starved
— swarm in the London streets,
and the poorer the neighbor-
hood the more abundant arc the
cats.
FURS USED F()[t LADIES'
CLOAKS
Frank Buckland, in Land mid
Water, gives the following infor-
mation as to whence the skins used
for lining ladies' cloaks are de-
rived, t ur lined cloaks are now
quite abundant and fashionable.
The skins used as lininsr.s are of
various kinds. The commonest
of all is white rabbits' : these are
not English, but imported from
Lissa, Poland, where they are
dressed bytfie furriers, and manu-
factured into linings for cloaks
It is not certain whether these
ski. 18 ire from wild or tame rab-
bits. As many thousand skins
are annually used, it is very pro-
bable that they are rabbits bred
for the purpose. Besides rabbit
skins, many cloaks are lined with
what are called "squirrel bellies."
These are literally bellies of
squirrels, These animals are
skinned in a peculiar manner so
as to make the most of the (ur.
The squirrels used for this pur-
pose are of various kinds and
prices The most expensive
sauirrel is the Siberian squirrel,
The general color of thi.s is l)lue.
some light blue, some dark blue ;
the darK blue are the most valu
DEEP-SEA WONDERa.
able, particularly if it is void of
the red stripe down the back.
These squirrels are killed by
thousands in Siberia . they are
mostly shot with a small bullet.
Those from Sweden and Norway
are caught in traps, probably pit-
falls baited with food ; they are
aUo intercepted when in the act
of migrating. The Swedish squir-
rels are very large. Some of the
squirrel skins are of a red color ;
these are the same squirrel in the
for its fur market, especially at
Eiister. when the great fair takes
I place From Leipsic furs are
sent to China, llussia. Turkey
Greece, etc., — in fact, all over the
I world. Large numbers ofcim-
moii wild rabbit skins and silver
grays are exported from Eng-
I land for use in Russia. Cats are
I largely cultivated in Holland,
I especially for their skins. The
fur of the Dutch cat is very long
and soft as compared to the Eng-
lish cat, the fur of which is hard
and wiry. There is some secrecy
as to how the cats in Holland are !
CELLULOID.
The Journal of the British
Denial Association quotes
from Le Pro«^res Den-
taire a description of the
process carried out at a
factory near Paris for the
production of celluloid.
A roll of paper is slow-
ly unwound, and is at
the same time saturated
with a mixture of five
parts of sulphuric acid
and two of nitric, which
falls upon the paper in
a fine spray. This
changes the cellulose of
the paper into pyroxy-
line (gun cotton). The
excess of acid having
been expelled by pressure, the
paper is washed with plenty of
water until all traces of acid have
been removed: it is then reduced
to pulp, and passes on to the
bleaching trough. Most of the
water having been got rid of by
means of a strainer, the pulp is
mixed with from 20 to 40 percent
of its weight of camphor, and the
mixture thoroughly triturated
under millstones. The necessary
coloring matter having been
added in the form of a powder, a
second mixing and grinding fol-
lows. The finely divided pulp is
been got rid of The plates thus
obtained are broken up and
soaked for twenty-four hours in
alcohol. The matter is then
paseed betwen rollers heated to
between UO" and 150" Fah.,
whence it issues in the form of
elastic sheets. Celluloid is made
to imitate amber, tortoiseshell,
coral, malachite, ebony, ivory,
etc., and besides its employment
in dentistry is used to make
mouthpieces for pipes and cigar
holders, handles for table knives
and umbrellas, combs, shirt fronts
and collars and a number of fancy
articles.
t
THE
ELEPHANT
APE.
A HINDU FABLE.
elephant named
an ape name
AND THE
Grand
Mimble
' Behold
An
Tusk and
were friends.
Grand Tusk observed,
how big and powerful I am !'
Nimble cried in reply, "Behold
how agile and entertaining I
am ! "
Each was eager to know which
was really superior to the other,
and which quality was the most
esteemed by the wise.
So they went to Dark Sage, an
owl that lived in an old tower, to
have their claims discussed and
settled.
Dark Sage said, " You must do
as I bid that I may form an
opinion."
" Agreed," said both.
" Then,'' said Dark Sage, " cross
yonder river, and bring me the
mangoes on the great tree be-
yond."
Off went Grand Tusk and Nim-
ble, but when they came to the
stream, which was flowing full.
Nimble held back; but Grand
Tusk look him up on his back,
and swam across in a very short
time. Then they came to the
mango-tree, but it was very lofty
and thick. Grand Tusk could
neither touch the fruit with his
trunk, nor could he break the tree
down to gather the fruit. Up
sprang Nimble, and in a trice let
drop a whole basketful of rich
ripe mangoes. Grand Tusk
gathered the fruit up into his
capacious mouth, and the two
friends crossed the stream as be-
fore.
"Now," said Dark Sage, "which
of you is the better? Grand Tusk
crossed the stream, and Nimble
gathered the fruit."
Each thing in its place is best.
GOOD MANNERS.
The secret of good manners is
to forget one's self altogether
fed; it is possible that they are | then spread out in thin layers on i The people of really fine breeding
are black.
black color is worth half a guinea
The Dutch rat killers have a most
peculiar and clever way of killing
their cats. It is a fallacy to sup-
pose that cats ?re skinned alive.
The best Dutch cats ' slabs, and from twenty to twenty
A good skin of jet five of these layers are placed in
a hydraulic press, separated from
Olio another by sheets of thick
blotting paper, and are subjected
to a pressure of 160 atmospheres
until all traces of moisture have
are the ones who never think ot"
themselves, but only of the pleas-
ure they can give to others. No
adornment of beauty, or learning,
or accomplishment, goes so far in
its power to attract as the one gift
of sympathy.
^H9|«H»
I Ifyon'i
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTH F<,RN MESSENGER.
«4©
DO IT NOW
If yon're told to do a thing,
And mean to do it really,
Never let it be by halvaa;
Do it fully, freely.
When fatber calls, though pleasant
be
The play you are pursuing,
Do not say, " I'll come when I
Have finished what I'm doing "
If yon are told to learn a task.
And you should begin it,
Do not tell your teacher, " Yes,
I'm coming in a minute."
Waste not moments, nor yonr
words.
In telling what you can do
Some other time. The present is
For doing what's before yon.
Phoebe Cahy.
HOW TO GET RICH.
There are two ways to get rich
— the right way and the wrong
way ; the easy way and the im-
possible way , the common way
and the rare way. And of coarse
the wrong and impossible way is
the common way
To be rich is to have ill the
money you want, is it not ? And
the common way of trying to get
rich is to try to get money enough
for one's wants. The ineradicable
and unconquerable difficulty in
this way is that the wants always
grow faster than the money pile.
You want to be rich enough to
hire a horse and buggy , when
you begin to hire, you want to
own a horse , when you drive
your own horse, you want to own
" span ; when you have a span,
. u want a pony for the children.
A hundred millions ought to be a
comfortable competence ; but Mr.
Vanderbilt has lately been a large
borrower of money When a man
buys railways as other men buy
horses, he may be in straitened
circumstances though he has fifty
millions in U. S bonds. The
more money a man has the poorer
he is, if he has not learned to
moderate his desires as well as to
accumulate his supplies. Baron
Munchausen's horse, cut in two
by the descending gate as his
rider was escaping from the castle,
drank unceasingly at the spring
by the roadside, to the amazement
of his rider, till looking back he
discovered that the unfortunate
beast was cut off just behind the
saddle, and that the water he was
taking in m front was running
out behind. An insatiable spirit
is worse than Barou Munchausen's
horse; the more it drinks (he
thirstier it grows.
The only way to bo rich is to
keep one's desires within his in-
come. If one wanLs what five
cents can tniy, and he has ten
cents, he is wealthy A bright
dime to a .street arab is (greater
wealth than a thousand dollars to
a merchant prince The right
way to be rich i.s never to want
what you cannot buy ; then you
Iways have as much money as
von want. This is the easy way.
No man can regulate the contents
of his purse ; every man can regu-
late the quality of his desires.
Capital IS not within every man's
attainment ; contentment is. He
is wealthy who has learned two
arts ; first, how to be contented
with what he can get ; second,
how to use what he has. Abraham
Lincoln had a better library in
the single coverless book which
he read by the light of the pitch-
pine knots in the Kentucky cabin
than the man who has lined the
walls of what he ironically calls
hi* library with calfskin bindings
at 80 much a square foot. It is
always easy to have plenty of
money ; spend less than you earn.
It is always easy to have all the
money yon want ; want less than
you have. The cases of actual
enjoying the sport ? Perhaps
they did not think how tho dog
wau worried and frightened, and
how much pain he felt by the
tightness of the cord around his
tail, and by tho bouncing of the
pail sometimes striking nim on
the back, and sometimes catching
against a lamp-post or WEM^gon-
wheel, and throwing him down
In tho picture the artist endeavors
to show how it would be when
the boy and dog chan^je places.
"CHRISTIAN SYMPATHY."
BY I.OUISK J. KIBKWOOD.
Two colored women stand talk-
ing in the street. At length they
separate with a taunting word
from one, who calls the other " a
slave to work." A quick retort
comes from the lips of the other,
the arm. Bless Ood for the com-
munion of saints, — ChriUijm at
Work.
w
X whe
1:
A BOY TAKES HIS TURN.
suflfering from cold, nakedness or
hunger are in this country very
rare In all other cases Paul's
prescription for wealth is the best
that was ever devised ; " Having
food and raiment, let us be there-
with content. The lesson ho
learned in prison in Rome is
worth all the lessons taught in
college — business or otherwise —
since the world began ; " I have
learned in whatsoever state I am,
therewith to be content — Chris-
tian Union
IT MAY BE FUN FOR THE
DOGS.
Did any of our young readers
ever see a dog running through
the street with a Im-kettle tied to
his tail? If so, were the boys
chasing, and throwing stones at
him? Were they laughing and
" No, no. I am no slave. I am
free, soul and body." A business
man hurries by, oppressed with
toil and care, but the words just
spoken arrest his attention for the
moment. He turns back a step
or two and asks the woman what
she means by saying she is " free,
soul and body " She replies, " O
sir, I mean that I have no master
but Jesus, and He has made me
free, soul and body " " God bless
you, my good woman, your words
remind me that I, too, belong to
that kind master God bless you
again." And they part, both
again to care and toil, but each
with renewed courage. The
chord of Christian sympathy was
struck between them, and in some
way it seemed like a bugle blast
heard in the thick of the fight,
thrilling the heart and nerving
A FLY'S MOUTH.
If yon examine a common fly
under the microscope as he alights
upon a piece of sugar, you will
see unfolded from the under sur-
face of the head a long organ
which looks quite like anotner
leg. It is really his under lip, and
is DeautifuUy adapted for licking
up fluids and for scratching solids
also, being rough like a file. This
organ expands at the end into a
fan shape, and is supported on a
firm tubular frame-work acting
as a set of springs to open and
shut the fan. When a fly alights
on the band or face in the heat of
summer, to sip the perspiration
which oozes through tho i>0Te8 of
the skin, the movement of this
little file causes a tickling sensa-
tion. — Selected.
A NOBLE REPLY
A boy was once tempted by his
companions to pluck some ripe
cherries from a tree which his
father had forbidden him to touch.
" You need not be afraid," said
they, "for if your father should
find out that you had taken them,
he is so kind that he would not
hurt yon. " For that very reason,"
replied the boy, " I ought not to
touch them ; for though my father
may not hurt me, mydiiobedience
would hurt my father."
KINGLY CONDESCENSION
Louis IX. of France was found
instructing a poor kitchen-boy;
and being asked why he would
do BO, replied, " The meanest per-
son, hath a soul as precious as my
own, and bought with the same
blood of Christ."
.ToHN BrNYAN's readiness to
give an answer to those who ques-
tioned his right to uso his great
gifts, is seen in the following
anecdote related in tho words of
his friend Charles Doe : As Mr.
Bunyan was upon the road near
Cambridge, there overtakes him
a scholar that had observed him
preaching and said to him, " How
dare you preach, seeing yon have
not the original and are no
scholar ?" Then said Mr. Bunyan;
" Have you tho original ? " " Yes,"
said the scholar. " Nay, but,"
said Mr. Bunyan, " have you the
very selfeomo original copies that
were written by the penmen of
the Scriptures, the prophets and
apostles themselves?" "No," said
the scholar, "but we have the
true copies. " '' How do you
know that?" said Mr. Bunyan.
" How ? " said the scholar, " how ?
Why we believe that what we
have is a true copy of the originJ."
" Exactly," said Mr. Bunyan,"
and so I believe that our English
Bible is a true copy of the original."
Then away went the scholar. — <
Christian Herald. '
1 I f^
RKPIUNTKDI STOHIKS. FROM THE « NORTHERN MESSENGER."
131
THE SULTAN OF THE BAST.
There was a Saltan of the East
Who nsed to ride a stabborn beast;
A marvel of the donkey-kind,
That much perplexed his owner's
mind.
Br turns he luoyed a rod ahead,
Then backed a rod or so instead.
And thus the day would pass
around,
The Sultan gaining little ground.
The servants on before would
stray
And pitcli their tents beside the
way,
And pass the time as best they
might
Until their master hove in sight.
The Saltan many methods tried :
He clicked and coaxed and spurs
applied.
And stripped a dozen trees, at
least.
Of branches, to persnade the beast.
But all his efforts went for naught;
No reformation could be wrought,
At length, before the palace eate
He called the wise men of the
state,
And bade them now their skill
display
By finding where the trouble lay.
With solemn looks and thoughts
profound,
The men of learning gathered
'round,
The beast was measured o'er with
care;
They proved hin* by the plumb
and square,
The compass to his ribs applied,
And every joint by rule was tried;
But nothing could the doctors iiiid
To prove he differed from his
kind.
Said they : " Your Highness !
appears
The beast is sound from hoof
ears;
No outward blemishes we see
To limit action fair and free.
In view of this the fact is plain
The mischief lies within the brain.
Now, we suggest, to stop his
tricks,
A sail upon his back you fix.
Of goodly size, to catch the breeze
And urge him forward where you
please."
The Saltan well their wisdom
praised.
Two masts upon the beast were
raised,
And, schooner-rigged from head
to tail.
With halliards, spanker-boom.and
sail.
In proper shape equipped was fie.
As though designed to sail the sea !
And when the Sultan next be-
strode
The beast upon a lengthy road,
With favoring winds that whistled
slrouK
And swiftly urged the craft along.
The people cleared the track with
speed ;
And old and young alike agreed
A stranger sight could not be
found,
From side to side the province
itk round.
5 i —Palmer Cox, in Si. Nicholat
JL
«H9
It
to
DANGER CLIFF.
There was once a gentleman,
it is said, who was very wealthy.
He had a large family of beauti-
ful children ; and he loved his
wife and sons and daughters very
dearly ; and daily he would have
his coachman take them out to
ride.
Away they would go through
country and city, and forest and
park. But near one of the plea-
santest drives there was a deep
chasm, and its sides were rocky
and stee;>, so that to go too near it
would be almost c.rtain death.
But the coachmau would often
see how close he could drive to
the edge of the abyss without
dashing his precious load to de-
struction. This he continued to
do day after day ; though he did
not mean any harm. He only
wanted to shew how near he
could come '.o danger and yet es-
cape. But one day he came just
a little nPiirer, when in an instant
he becr.me dizzy as he looked
down into the dark chasm, and
whirled from his high seat and
was goue.
But 'lorses, coach and family all
escaped and came safely home.
Thjn another coachman must
be frund ; and the gentleman sent
wo-.d nil about, and advertised
frr a good, safe, skilful man. And
nauy came and he questioned
them, each by himself, in order
.0 get the right one.
" How near can yon drive to
L'anger Cliff " — so that chasm was
caiK'd— " vvithout driving over?"
asked the gentleman of the first
who came.
" Ah, your honor, it's not every
coachman that can do the likes o'
me. Sure, I've driven as near as
your finger's bridth minny's the
time, and 'twas as the sim as
though 'twos a mile or more. I've
niver hurt a hair o' the hid."
" You may pass out," was the
answer. "I do not wish your
services."
Then came another, and he
was asked the same question
about driving near the chasm.
And he said he could come with-
in six inches, but feared to go
nearer.
" I do not wish yon," was said,
and he passed out, wondering
how near the gentleman wanted
his coachman to drive to this place
of danger.
So they came and went, till one
answered :
" Sir, I think I could drive very
near, even to the edge, if neces-
sary ; but I always make it a point
to keep as far away as I can."
" And you are the very man 1
wish, sir. Keep far away from
that and all other dangers as you
drive the coac'n about the country.
Rem<<uiber, my family aic in your
keoping, and for their sakon, as
w ill as for your own, do not thke
one risk unless you must."
Many's the boy who has said :
" I'm not afraid to taste cider,
or beer, or wine, just this once. I
know where to go, and where
not to go, and what I can stand.
And I don't need any pledge.
And if I want to smoke a cigar, I
can smoke one, and there stop.
And I can read one bad book, and
no more, if I set my heart upon
it. And I can spend an hour
with Jim Brown and not swear,
even if he does. What's the use
of a fellow's going to excess every
time ? Why can't he have a little
of these things, even if they are
not quite so good, and stop just
where one wants to ?"
Yes, but nine chances to one,
the boy will keep coming nearer
and nearer to Danger Cliff, and
then in an instant his head will
whirl, and over he will go and
disappear in darkness forever.
Yes, but who ever plunged
over Danger GliS who kept as far
away from it as possible ?
Keep far away from every
Danger Cliff.— TAe Pansy.
SEEING THE GOSPEL.
" Have you ever heard the
Gospel before ?" asked a mission-
ary at Ningpo of a respectable
IN A CHURCH AT LUBKOK
M»«
caU Pt
't'
glasttr .
S««
CHllSIt
't'
liBllt .
S""
rail gie
1|!'
VSxi
«»"
tall S>e
't!'
txU .
Moo
rallSle
<t!'
Wilt .
M»"
mliPt
<fe«
lobtlg .
fi""
oi: gie
$iti . .
S""
caUPi
iV
Q^btilRsfing
goo
n.USt<
II,.
gltKifnl .
I'm
nil 3b l||e
Iloblt .
fio"
caUStt
tt|<
^Innjtlu
iou
cull SPt
i\*
$ig||t(Otti
1 conbtmn son
•
— Sunday
at
Home
IF NOT, WHY N0T1
IS THIS INSCRIPTION ON THE WALL
irib son bo tiot qatftion Pt.
nnb gon bo not looH to git.
anb gon bo not foUob) Sit.
. . . anb gon bo not bii^ for 9ti.
. . anb gon gibe Pt no atliiUion.
anb gon lobt 9lt not.
, . anb gon aik 9lt nothing.
, . anb gon urk Pe not
anb gon tinit Jit not
... anb gon utht ^c noi>
. nb gott (onot yt not
... anb goa ftar Pt noL
. , nb |s« aniMt Mmu Sa,
Chinaman, whom he had not seen
in his mission room befoie.
" No," he replied, " but I have
seen it. I know a man who used
to bo the terror of his neighbor-
hood. If yon gave him a hard
word, he would shout at you and
curse you for two days and two
nights, without censing. He was
as dangcrons as a wild beast, and
a bad opium smoker ; but wk«*
the religion of Jesas took hold of
him, he became wholly changed.
He is gentle, moral, not soon
angry, and has left off opium.
Truly the teaching is good!" —
Word and Work.
w
THE SWEARER CURED.
A gentleman once heard a man
swearing most dreadfully, ir ' '
presence of a number of his , : / \-
panions. The gentle cuanti.' i .' '
I hat it was both a wicked v
cowardly thing t;^ swear .-,o; tti^v.
cially in campany with niY i .
when he dared not do it b) k\\. > •
self. The man boastfully r^ pli-
that he was not afraid to sw.?ar,
at any time, or in any place.
" I'll give you a sovereign," sa d
the gentleman, *' if you wUl g'
into the village graveyard i
tv, .five o'clock to-night, and SW' ••
the same oaths there, wb i '^
are alone witti God, as ) ou ha' 3
just uttered here."
" Agreed," said the man ; " it's
an easy way of earning a sover-
eign."
" Well ; co^e to me to-morrow,
and say that you have done it, aiiu
the money is yours."
The time passed on ; the ho ar
of midnight came. Tlie rc.aa
went to the graveyard. It w>s a
dark night. As he entered the
graveyard not a sound was heard.
AH was still as death. Then the
gentleman's words, " Alone with
God," came over him with won-
derful power. The thought of
the wickedness of what he had
done, and what he had come there
to do, darted across his mind like
the lightning's flash.
He trembled at his folly. Afraid
to tdke another step, he fell up-
on his knees ; and, instead of the
dreadful oaths he came to utter,
the earnest cry went up, " God,
be merciful to me, a sinner !"
The next day he went to the
gentleman, and thanked him for
what he had done, and said that,
by God's help, he w6uld never
swear another oath as long as he
lived. There is hope that this
event led to his becoming " a new
creature in Christ Jesus." — S. S.
Messenger.
Nine Boys applied, not long
since, for a situation in a commis-
sion house, where the proprietor
is not a Christian. He selected
the one who was a regular atten-
dant at church and Sabbath-
school, saying: " Such boys rare-
ly turn out to be rascals."
He that trusteth in his own
heart is a fool.— Prov. 23 : 26.
f
132
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM 1 HE " NORTHERN MFSSENGER.
iidow
ANOTHER DOG STORY.
OR, A REMARKABLE DEMVERANCE.
As « farther illustration ot Mr.
Morwood's Dog Story,' given iu
oitr June number, a correspondent
Bends us the follovrinff singular
narrative related to him by a
Canadian missionary some years
ago:—
About this period I went to at-
tend the sale of the effects of a
respectable farmer who had died
at one of my out>settlements a
few months before. He had left
a widow — a very amiable and
pious woman — and three children
to mourn his loss. The lone
widow thought herself unequal
to the management of the
large farm which her husband
had occupied. She therefore
took a cottage in the village
where I lived, and was now
selling everything off, except
a little furniture. After the
sale was over, I went into the
house to see her. I oongratu-
lated her upon the plan she
had adopted, and remarked
that she would bo much more
comfortable, not only in be-
ing relieved from the cares of
a Dusiness she could not be
supposed to understand, but
in a feeling of security, which
in her unprotected state in
that lonely house she could
hardly enjoy.
" ' no,' she said, ' not un-
protected — far from it ! You
forget,' she continued, with a
mournful smile, 'that I am
now under the special pro-
tection of Him who careth for
the fatherless and the widow,
and I feel quite confident that
He will protect us.'
" And He did protect them,
and that very night, too, in a
most extraordinary and won-
derftil and, I may add,
miraculous manner.
" The farmhouse was a
solitary one ; there was not
another within half a mile of
it. That night there was a
good deal of money in the
house, the proceeds of the
sale. The mother and her
three young children and a
maid-servant, were the sole
inmates. They had retired
to rest some time. The wind
was howling fearfully, and
shook the wooden house at
every blast. This kept the
poor mother awake, and she
thought she heard in the pauses
of the tempest some strange and
unusual noise, seemingly at the
back of the house. While eager-
ly listening to catch the sound
again, she was startled by the
violent barking of a dog, ap-
parently in a room in the front
of the house immediately beneath
(he bedchamber. This alarmed
her still more, as they had no
dogof theirown. She immediate-
ly arose, and going to her maid's
room, awoke her, and they went
down together. They first peeped
into the room where they had
heard the dog. It was moon-
light, at least partially so, for the
night was cloudy; still it was
light enough to distinguish ob-
jects, although but faintly. They
saw an immense black dog
scratching and gnawing furiously
at the door leading into the
kitchen, whence she thought that
the noise she first heard had pro-
ceeded. She requested the ser-
vant to open the door which the
dog was attacking so violently
The maid was a determined and
resolute girl, devoid ot fear, and
she did ao without hesitation ;
when the dog rushed out, and the
widow saw, through the open
door, two men at the kitchen
they would doubtless have ac-
complished their purpose. The
mistress and maid got a light, and
secured the window as well as
they could.
"They then dressed themselves,
for to think of sleeping any more
that night was out of the question.
They had not, however, got down
stairs the second time, before they
heard their protector scratching
at the outer door for admittance.
They immediately opened it,
when he came in wagging his
bushy tail, and fawning upon
each of them in turn, tol>e patted
and praised for his prowess. He
then stretched his huge bulk at
full length beside the warm stove
-«H©
l\
DRAWING LESSON.
From Sir Edwin LftodiMr'i r«lntlDiL In onUlns bf Mr. HurlMD Wttr u ft dnwlag iMtsn for th* rovag.
window, which was open. The
men instantly retreated, and the
dog leaped through the window
after them. A violent scuffle en-
sued, and it was evident from the
occasional yelping of the noble
animal that he sometimes had
the worst of it. The noise of the
contest, however, gradually re-
ceded, till the widow could hear
only now and then a faint and
distant bark. The robbers, or
perhaps murderers had taken out a
pane of glass, which had enabled
them to undo the fastening at the
window, when, but for the dog,
closed his eyes and went to sleep
The next morning they gave him
a breakfast any dog might have
envied; after which, nothing
could induce him to prolong his
visit. He stood whining im-
patiently at the door till it was
opened, when he galloped off in
a great hurry, and they never
saw him afterward.
"They had never seen the ('og
before, nor did they ever know to
whom he belonged. They could
only suppose that he came with
some stranger to the sale. — Britiih
Workman.
CARELESS TOMMY.
Tommy Lee was a very care*
less little boy. His mother often
told him that he must not leave
his playthings about the room,
but must put them away in the
closet when he had finished play-
ing with them. But Tommy did
not mind. He would run off to
play in the yard, leaving his toys
on the floor or the table for his
mother or sister to pick up and
put away.
" Wd must cure Tommy of this
fault," said his mother, " but I do
not know how to do it. He doesn't
seem to mind being punished in
the least."
On his birthday Tommy's
father gave him a box of lead
soldiers, with a little cannon,
and a handful of small peas
for cannon balls. His mother
gave him a pretty silk ball,
and his sister gave him a china
mug with a wreath of flowers
painted on it. Tommy was
very happy. He had a fine
time shooting down the sol-
diers and bounding the ball,
and he liked to drink out of
his pretty mug.
At first he was very careful
to put his new toys away as
soon as he grew tired of play-
ing with them. But one day,
when he had all His soldiers
ontof the box, and was shoot-
. g them down, a little boy
came to ask him to help make
a snow man in the yard, and
off ran Tommy, leaving his
soldiers on the table, his ball
on tite floor, and his pretty
mug on a chair.
when he came back an hour
later under the table lay Tow-
ser, gnawing something that
had once been bright and
pretty, but was now all in
pieces and very wet.
" What have you there,
Towser ? " asked Tommy, and
he crawled under the table
to see. He began to cry when
he saw that it was the silk ball
which Towser had.
•* Why didn't somebody put
my ball away ? " he asked.
"That is something you
must always do for yourself,"
said his mother.
As Tommy came out from
under the table he stepped on
something hard. It was a
red-coated soldier. All the rest
of the soldiers were on the
floor too, and all were broken.
" You have all been treading on
my soldiers," said Tommy, crying
harder.
Just then Tommy's little sister
crawled over to the chair on
which lay the mug. She grasped
it with her baby hands, it fell and
with a loud crash broke into
twenty pieces.
Poor Tommy ! He cried until
ha had no tears to shed. But
he had learned a p;ood lesson,
for he never again left his
toys about the room. — House-
hold.
1
«H9
,,AimMm,c,n. » i m il^ ^Mmm »m^ ■■«"■■
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THI'^ "NORTHERN MESSENOER."
ron there,
ommy, »nd
ihe table
cry when
he lilk ball
lebody pnt
asked.
»thing you
yourself,'
„ out from
stepped on
It was a
All the rest
rere on the
broken,
treading on
imy, crying
little sister
chair on
}he grasped
B, it fell and
broke into
cried until
shed. Bnt
ood lesson,
left his
,m. — House-
i
CAPTAIN BOX ALL'S SUGGES-
TION.
Captain Boxnll had lived many
years in India, where it is under-
stood Europeans look on the
natives very much as children,
ttho do not know how to do any-
thing until they are told the way.
Since he had returned to his
native village, where he had
settled down to spend the remain-
der of his days, he had gone on
treating the people there in just
the same manner. He could not
Eass a lad in the street spinning
is top without asking him why
he did not wrap the string round
in some different way. For it
was a peculiarity of Captain Box-
all's suggestions that they were
always novel; in fact just the
very contrary of what anybody
else would hare thought ot. He
was encouraged in his habit bv
the only person who lived with
him, his maiden sister. In every-
thing that happened she turned
first of all to him and asked,
" What do you suggest. Captain
Boxall?"
Late one night there came a
sudden knock on Captain Bozall's
door ; and before he could roach
it the door opened and the grin-
ning face of a neighbor was thrust
in.
"Captain !" the neighbor said.
" there is a thief in your wood-
shed ! I have turned th? key on
him, so you have got him safe."
The Captain's sister, who had
begun to scream at hearing the
words " thief," rallied on learning
that he was in the distant wood-
shed, not inside the house. Facing
round, she said, " Captain BozalT,
what do you suggest ? "
Certainly here was a case where
the need for counsel had come
closely home.
"Well." replied the Captain,
trying to be prompt,though all his
habitual briskness was not quite
forthcoming, " anybody could
suggest the police. It must be
something very different to that
if the thief is to be reformed."
"Taking up a lantern, he bade the
still grmning neighbor to go home.
" I shall know how to deal with
the case," he added.
And it was very Hkely that he
would know, for Captain Bozall's
heart was right, if his head was
rather flighty.
When half-way down the dark
yard, his sister, standing at the
door, saw, by means of the il-
lumination of the lantern her
brother carried, that he knelt
down in the open air and prayed.
This was not a bad preliminary.
"He is asking God's blessing
on his iriggestion," Miss Boxau
said.
Turning the key back, the cap-
tain passed into the woodshed,
and there ho found the thief
crushed up close against the wall,
trembling in every limb, and with
a face as white as that of a ghost.
On the ground beside him, tied
« r. fast with rope, ready for carrying
' » away, lay a large bundle of wood.
«M9
" Ah, my friend," began the
captain, " this is a late visit. Why
did yon not como earlier i You
might have visited us during the
day at a better hour. But come
with mo ; I will show you the
way into the house," turning
about with the lantern.
The thief t-vidently could not
believe his own ears, lie stood
stockstill rooted to the spot. But
on the captain, who had walked
straii^ht toward the open door,
repeating, "Come, do not keep
us both out in the cold here," he
had to follow. But Captain Boz-
all spoke again. Ho saw that the
thief had, as might have been
looked for, left the bundle of wood
behind him. " Nay," he said, " I
beg you to bring the wood with
yon." The thief shook his head,
but would not touch the bundle.
" You must bring it," continued
the captain. " It is not mine.
Make haste with it."
"It is yours," was the man's
stammering answer.
" No, it is God's. He only lent
it to me. Do you not know the
eighth commandment ? "
" More and more bewildered
grew the thief; large beads of
sweat oozed out on his white face.
But the captain stood there, firm
and unyielding. At length the
man had to take up the load and
totter with it across the yard after
his leader, who carefully showed
him the way with the lantern.
Captain Bozall marshalled him
straight into the kitchen.
" Sister !" cried the captain, "we
have a visitor. Order bread and
cheese and a jug of beer instantly."
It happened, however, that the
servant was just cooking his even-
ing meal over the fire, and this
was soon put upon the table, the
maid being sent elsewhere. Bnt
(he ffuest had no appetite; he
conld not speak, much less
eat. How ever, the captain would
not be denied, and his sister, who
happened to come in, backed him
up as usual, though she looked
much amazed at this last sugges-
tion of her brother.
The thief had to try to eat, de-
spite his throat being too dry to
swallow. In the meantime Cap-
tain Bozall went on talking in the
same mild way. Ho asked after
the man's family, the names of his
children, if he got on well with
his wife, and so on. To every
answer the man gave he attended
patiently and sympathetically. At
last the meal was over, and al-
though the man had mustered a
little courage during its progress,
how he wished he was now out-
side the house! The beads of
sweat again shone upon his face.
" I think you had better stay
with us the night over," afresh be-
gan the captain. "Still, just as you
will. We could make you up a
bed on the sofa, for it is a dark
night without, and the roads are
nono of the best. I can promise
you a comfortable shelter ; still, as
I said before, if you wish to go»
no ono hinders you from doing
so."
" I shonld be glad to go homo,"
faltered the thief, with tears start-
ing in his eyes.
" Then go, in God's name," was
the prompt answer.
The wretched man did not need
a second bidding. Shamefacedly
muttering good-night, he was
making hurriedly for the door
when Captain Bozall put himself
in his way. " You are not," he
said, " taking the wood with yon,"
pointing to the bundle on the
floor. " You must not leave it
behind you."
In abject humiliation the thief
prayed to be forgiven. The cap-
tain told him that he had nothing
to forgive He continued, "Set
it right with God. It is God you
have offended. He alone can for-
give you the sin. Bnt you must
take the wood ; I wash my hands
of it."
There was no reply for it ; the
thief had to take up the wood and
carry it off with him. Ah, how
it pressed upon his conscience as
well as his back ! As he bore it
home it felt tons' weight.
In the very break of dawn nezt
morning there was a timid bnt
insisting knock heard on Captain
Bozall's door. The captain rose
and opened it; there stood his
guest of the previous evening.
" Why are you here so earfy 1 "
asked the captain.
" I could not rest without com-
ing to you," replied the thief.
" All night I have been tossing
on my bed,repenting that I robbed
you and sinned against God.
How shall I ask Him to forgive
me?"
" That is speaking rightly," glee-
fully said the captain. "Come
in."
He read the Bible with him,
beginning with the passage which
so solemnly asserts that thieves
shall not entVr into the kingdom
of God, but going on to the blessed
words which speak of pardon and
peace. From that day he who
had been a thief became a re-
formed man, and after a long trial
of his honesty had been success-
fully gone through, his friend the
captain got him admitted into the
membership of his church.
In this one instance, certainly,
great success attended the sugges-
tion which occurred to Captain
Bozall. — Day of Rest.
was a boy ? Let
boy of ten years
morning, works,
and we will tell
kind of man he
boy that is too
■ ^4©
?13.3_
us see how a
gets up in the
plays, studies,
you just what
will make. The
late at breakfast.
HOW CHARACTER GROWS.
Many people seem to forget
that character grows; that it is
not something to put on ready-
made with womanhood or man-
hood; but day by day, here a lit-
tle and there a little, grows with
the growth, and strengthens with
the strength, until good or bad, it
becomes almost a coat of mail.
Look ata man ofbnsiness — prompt,
reliable, conscientious, yet clear-
headed and energetic. VThen do
you suppose he developed all these
admiraDle qualities? When ho
late at school, stands a poor chance
to be a prompt man. The boy
who neglects his duties, be they
ever so small, and then ezcuses
himself by saying, " I foigot ; I
didn't think ! " will never be a
reliable man ; and the boy who
finds pleasure in the suffering of
weaker things will never be a
noble generous kind man — a
gentleman, ~-rArM<i(in Helper.
DANIEL WEBSTER.
To The Chrislian at Work:
I was interested in a recent
article in the Christiam at Work
concerning this eminent man, as
I am in everything pertaining to
him. The late Hon. Edward
Curtis, ot New York, was his inti-
mate friend. In an interview that
I had with him many years ago I
made some enquiries of him eon-
cerning Mr. Webster, one of
which was whether he was in the
habit of using profane language.
He emphatically replied in the
negative. He said that he would
regard the habit as vulgar and
beneath him. H. s.
Hawley, Mass., Jan. 26, 1882.
WRONG DOING.
A little wrong done to another
is a great injury done to our-
selves.
The seyerest punishment for an
injury is the consciousness of hay-
ing done it ; and no suffering is
keener than that which belongs
to repentance for past wrong-
doing.
There is a Stort that the late
Prince SuwarofF, who was a great
favorite of the Russian Court, had
at one period of his early life
Nihilistic tendencies, which came
to the knowledge of the Czar, who
sent for him and said : " Prince
Alexander, I have here a complete
list of the conspirators. In it I
find a name which I can scarcely
bring myself to believe could ever
be found among a band of rebels
— the name of SuwarofF. I cannot
believe it now. It cannot — must
not be ! " So saying, the emperor
tore the list and threw the pieces
into the paper basket. Overcome
by the emperor's magnanimity,
SuwarofI threw himself at his
feet and made a full confession.
" From that moment I was cured !"
he told a friend.
Rest follows labor !
Even so ;
Yet side by side
They likewise go,
Each to the other
Near akin,
For life well spent
Brings peace within ;
This is the rest
That all may win.
J
?
:ii
134 ». »«|REIM11NTEI) STOlilKs'. FRO M TllK
TWO BLUE PENCILS.
" Such a time as I had in Hchool to-day, grandpa ! ' said littlu
Frank.
Frank was sitting,
as he lovod to sit in
the twilight. on a loiv
stool at grandpa's li — : <'''->^'*;
side ~
" A Tory happy
time, I hope," spoke
grandpa's pleasant
voice.
" Oh, no, grandpa,
a very bad time in-
deed. But 1 didn't
make it ; I was
doing 8um8, trying
to be real good,
when all of a sud-
den I missed mv
little blue pencil,
and looking round I
saw George Parsons
writing his words
with it. I just
didn't like it, grand-
pa ; I'll always lend
my things but I
don't like folks to
take 'em without
asking ; and so I
pulled his sleeve, and I motioned
to him to give it to me, but he
only stared at me and went* on
writing words. And then I
couldn't stand it any longer ; 1
forgot the rule and all, and called
out real loud ; • (.reorge Parsons,
you've got my pencil, and you
know it, and I just want you to
give it back to mo !' And — O
grandpa I what do you think I
had to do then ! Go and sit on
the front bench, and lose live
minutes of my recess ! I had to
do both those dreadful things, all
through George Parsons. But
just the minute I got out, I went
after him, and I told him I wanted
my pencil straight, and — do you
k'Uow, grandpa?— he wouldn't
give it to me ; for all I asked and
asked, he's got it yet ; he went
home with it in his pocket. But
he'll have to give it to me, wont
he, grandpa ?"
Frank pavised witti a big sigh.
" But what did he say ?" asked
grandpa thoughtfully.
" Oh, he said it wasn't mine, it
was his ; that his mother gave it
to him, and he guessed he wasn't
going to give it to me."
" Then you really think this
was your pencil, and George took
it ? So ho must hav-j told a
story too," continued grandj^a, in
the same thoughtful tone. " Did
you ever detect him in one before
Frankie ?"
" N — o, grandpa."
" And you looked thoroughly
lor the pencil, of course ; in your
desk, and all around ?"
" Why, no, grandpa ! What
was the use when I knew that
George had got it ?"
"You know, Frank? How?
You did not see him take it."
" N — o. But then it was gone,
and— and George never had a
NOirniKHN MFSSENGER."
^H9
its a bad business, Frank," he
interrupted gravely. "You accuse
George I'arsons of taking your
pencil, and then of lying about it,
all on a mere supposition, without
any proof at all. A bad business,
my boy, but there is only one
thiiiLf you can do now. Promise
me to look lor your pencil to-
morrow. "
" Yes, grandpa."
" And if you lind it — '
Frank understood. "Of course,"
he broke in with a little flush;
but, " of course, I know he's got
it, " he said softly to himself
So Frank said to himself over
and over next morning ou his
way to school. But —
Long before the twilight hour
he came to grandpa with a
drooping head and deeply Hushed
face.
" O grandpa, ' he faltered, " I
am more ashamed than I can tell.
For almost the first thing I saw
this morning was my pencil
sticking out of a crack inside my
desk. It mujt have dropped in
there. And George saw it too,
and — "
" And !" echoed
grandpa anxiously.
" Oh, I did,"
continued Frank
quickly ; " 1 took
my slate right ofl,
and wrote : " Dear
George, I'm so
sorry! Can you over
forgive me '?" And
George wrote back
right off : ' Dear
Frank, yes; only I
wish you wouldn't
act so mean again
until you know."'
Well, that was
proved such a
noble-hearted
boy; some of your
iriendsyou might
not have won
back so easily. O
Frank, think of
the wrong you
did him; resolve
never again to
accuse one of
your mates so
meanly ; never to
know things
against them you
cannot p r o v * .
Think l»o w
wicked it is to
do so, Frankie."
" O grandpa," replied Frank
brokenly, " I'm sure I never will
again."
Dear children, do any of you
accuse your mates thus unkindly,
and unjustly ? Oh, think how
mean, how wrong such ways of
dealing are. — C'hil<ts Pa/ier.
NO WEIGHTS.
" Ij«tiu Uy Mlila every w«t(bL" (Heb. xil. I).
If you were going to run a
race, you would hrst put down
all the parcels yon might have
been carrying. And if you had a
heavy little parcel in your i>ocket
you would take that out and lay
it down too, because it would
hinder you in running. You
would know better than to say,
" I will put down the parcels
which 1 have in my
hands, but no one can see
the one in ray pocket, so
that won't matter !" You
would " lay aside every
weight."
You have a race to run
to-dav, a little piece of the groat
race that is set before you. God
has sot a splendid prize for you—
" the prize of the high calling of
tJod in Chritt Jesus" — a crown
that is incorruptible.
Now what are you going to do
about the weig' ts— the things
that hinder you from running the
race ? You know that some things
seem to hinder you ; will you keep
them or lay them aside '?
Diti'erent persons have difl'eront
weights ; we must lind out what
ours are, and give them up. One
finds that if she does not got up
directly she is called the time slips
t)y, and there is not enough left
tor quiet prayer and Bible reading.
Then there is a little weight that
must be laid aside. Another is
at school, and finds that ho gets
no good but J little harm, wneu
he goes much with a certain boy
Then he must lay that weight
aside. Another takes a story
book up to bed, and reads it while
nurse is brushing her hair, and
np to the last minute, and then
her head is so full of the story
that she only says words when
she kneels down, and cannot
really pray at all. Can she doubt
that this is a weight that ought
to be laid aside ?
It may seem hard to lay our pet
weight down ; but oh, if you only
knew how light we leel when it
is laid down, and how much easier
it is to run the race which God
has set before us ! — Word and
Wurk. __
HOW TO BE GOOD AND
HAPPY.
" How is it that Freddy is not
as cross and fretful as he used to
be ? I have not heard one ugly,
fault-finding word from him for
for ever so long," said his auntie.
" It is because I have given my
tongue to God," said Freddy, "and
I cannot speak bad words any
more." — Herald of Mercy
!;
^
the right way to
do," said grandpa.
blue pencil, and— I know— " ["And I am glad
Grandpa shook his head. "This George Parsons
«9
$
^149
W
cou
we
of,
cht
tak
he4
hir
my
pol
lacl
aga
qu<
eH9
:;
tho ia;roat
)U. tlod
lor you—
i;iilhug of
-a crown
ling to do
u things
nning tliu
mo things
you keep
i
i diilurent
out what
. up. One
lot get up
itimoalipa
iiough left
ie reading,
eight that
Another is
kat ho gets
rm, when
srtain boy
at weight
s a story
^ds it while
■ hair, and
and then
the story
ards when
nd cannot
I she doubt
that ought
lay our pet
if you only
eel when it
much easier
which God
-Word and
)D AND
eddy is not
ho used to
d one ugly,
jni him for
his auntie,
i-e given my
reddy, "and
words any
rcif
V^
!!
REPRINTED STOUIKS. KHOM THE 'NOKTHERN MES.SEN(;KK."
THE BLIND BOY.
Oh, say ! what is that thing cnilod
light,
Which I must ne'er enjoy ?
Whatare theblessingB of the sight?
Oh, tell your poor blind boy !
You talk of wondrous things yon
see.
Ton say tho sun shines bright;
I feel hira warm, but how can be.
Or make it day or night i
Myday or night myself I make,
Whene'er I sleep or play ;
And could I ever keep awake.
With me 'twere always day.
With heavy sighs I often hoar
You mourn my hapless woe ;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy ;
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.
COLLEY ClBBEK.
TRUE POLITENESS.
There is a difference between
politeness and etiquette. Eti-
quette can be defined, classified,
formulated. Yon can tell young
people to take their soup from
the side of their spoonb ; to oat
with their forks ; not to mako a
noise in eating ; and all these and
countless more such injunctions
are important. But I would
rather eat a hundred dinners
with my knife than laugh one
malicious laugh at some one else
who did so.
No error in conventional good-
breeding — mortifying as such er-
rors are — isone-ouorter so serious
a3 the least rudeness which has
its root in tho heart, and springs
from innate disregard of the rights
or the feelings of others. It was
not the least royal act of good
Queen Caroline when, seeing at
one of her little tea-parties two
ladies from the country who
poured their tea into their sau-
cers to cool, she looked with stern
reproof at some of her mnids of
honor who were laughing behind
their fans, and reassured her
country guests by tranquilly
pouring her own tea into her sau-
cer and drinking it
Good manners are to a person
what perfume is to a ilower
something individual and charm
ing ; something which is nooes-
sary to mako even beauty lovely.
Their very essence i.s sympathy.
I do not think a true Christian
could possibly be anything but
well-bred, though there are plenty
of gruff and uncivil members of
churches. But no one who has
taken tho gospel of Christ into his
heart, who loves his neighbor as
himself and blesses even his cne
my, can be anything but truly
polite, however no might, through
lack of social experience, offend
against some of the canons of eti-
quette.
To learn to put yourself in-
Btinctively in another person's
place is the grand secret of true
politeness.
Two ladies had met often at the
houses of their common friends,
and had i)e(!n introduced to each
other once or twice on such occa-
sions. Of course, according to
strict etiquette, such an introduc-
tion does not bind people to
recognize euch other afterward.
One day, these liidies of whom
I speak met in the midst of a little
group of people.
" Good-morning, Mrs. B.," said
Mrs. A. " I thiiiK you must be
very near-sighted, for you never
know me, though wo have met
so often."
"You mistake," was Mrs. B.'s
reply, " I am not at all neur-sight-
ed," and with the coldest of bows
she moved away.
Her object, no doubt, was to re-
sent what she considered a liberty
two loaves at the extremity of a
slender Iwiu. the bird literally
sows them together at their edges,
its bill taking the place of the
needle, and tho vegetable fibre
constituting the thread. A quan-
tity of solt cottony down is then
pushefl between tho leaves, and
a convenient hollow scraped out,
in which the eggs may lie and
the young may rest at their ease.
Sometimes, if the leaf be large
enough, its two edges are drawn
together, but in general a pair of
leaves are needed. A few fea-
thers are sometimes mixed with
the down. This curious nest is
evidently hung at the very ex-
tremity of the twigs in order to
keep out of the way of the mon-
keys, snakes and other enemies
wliich might otherwise attack and
devour mother and young to-
gether. — Woo(r$ Natural Hittory.
and teach Mrs, A. a lesson ; but
she succeeded only in leaving on
the by-standers the impression
thnt she herself, whatever her
social position, was not really a
lady.
To go into society with the dis-
tinct object of making other peo-
ple happy is to ensure that you
will be not only at ease, but well
bred. — Youth's Companion.
THE TAILOR BIRD.
The tailor bird, which is found
in India and the Indian Archi-
pelago, is a sober little creature,
not more conspicuous than a com-
mon sparrow, and is chiefly re-
markable for its curious nest,
which is made in a singular and
most ingenious manner. Taking
which the English people descri*
bed as so noble and willing and
useful, it wag finally decided that
one should bo sent him as a pre-
sent. So among the cargo of a
vessel sent to Tahiti from New
South Wales was a splendid horse,
with a silky coat snd flowing
mano and tail, for King Pomare.
It was originally intended that
the horso should be taken ashore
from tho vessel in which ho had
made hia voyage in a large canoe
which had been sent alongside
for the purpose, but tho slings in
which he was fastened gave way
as he was being lowered, and the
poor animal fell into the sea. Ha
at once struck boldly out for the
land ; but tho natives no sooner
saw him than they plunged into
the waves and swam after him like
a shoal of porpoises ; they seized
his tail and his mane, and nearly
pulled him under. The King
shouted and the Captain scream-
ed at them in vain, while the ter-
rified horse struggled as hard as
he could. As soon as ho reached
the land tho crowd there fled for
their lives in every direction,
climbing rocks and trees, and
hiding behind bushes. One by
one, however, they returned when
they saw a sailor slip a halter
around the creature's neck and
led him along.
Next morning, in tho presence
of a great number of admiring
natives, the Captain put a
saddle on the hoise, and
rode him up and down before
the King's tent. As he cantered,
galloped, and trotted, obedient to
the rein, the people shouted and
danced, crying Piiaa-hora-fenna
and Buaa-ujai-taata (land-running
pig, and man-carrying pig.)— ifar-
pel's Young People.
^
I.!.-.
A HORSE WHICH MADE A
SENSATION.
Tahiti is one of the Society Is-
lands, a small group in the South-
ern Pacific, lying many hundreds
of miles away from any mainland.
The Spaniards claim to have dis-
covered them first, but it was fa-
mous Captain Cook who explored
them thoroughly, and carried the
story of their wonderful tropical
fruits and strange inhabitants back
to England.
Some % ''ars after, the good peo-
ple of England began to send
missionaries to the islands. They
were well received and among
their converts was King Pomare.
Now neither King Pomare nor
any of his subjects had ever seen a
horse, and as they were curious to
know something about an animal
INTELLIGENT HENS
A correspondent of the Bruns-
wick (Maine) Telegraph relates
the following.
A hen and a largo flock of
chickens were in the habit of
coming round our north back
door and were rather troublesome.
One day Miss C. put out a favo-
rite cat, saying : " There, .Tulia,
if you can catch one of these
chickens you shall have the whole
of it." No sooner said than done
— the chicken was caught and
eaten. The hen came as usual
next day with her chickens, but
never after t'.iat day did she come
without the company of another
hen, who invariably took her po-
sition between the hen and chick-
ens and the house-door, and
marched like any faithful sentinel
back and forward in the space. If
the cat made her appearance, she
would fly at her, and drive her
away with such vigor that the cat
was glad to run. " Julia " never
got another of those chickens.
Now, how did this mother hei^
communicate and mako the other
hen comprehend her loss and^ the ,
service she required ? '•
r
OVER
RKl'UINTKI) STOUIKS. FROM TIIK "NOUTHKRN MESSKNdKR."
THE FALLS.
Often wn read ofmon being car-
ried over Niagara FalN, uerer to
bo «een again alive. Unnally thu
roavon is that thny have been
drinking, and before Ihey awaken
to thpir txrrible poHition thuy are
in the Bwidt, amooth current that
(buy cannot inaater, and which
bear* them away to destruction.
It i« time for prayer, when men
Bnd thcmielvea so near the tioil-
ing falls; it was time for prayer
long before when the boat faral
felt the current, amooth yet swift ;
it waa time for prayer when the
fatal draught that takes away
the brain waa first placed to
the lipn ; it waa time for prayer
when the temptation to atray
from the right path waa Urst
presented ; it is time for all
readers of the JMeaaenger to
pray with deepest onrneHtness
" Lead us not into temptation ;
but deliver us from evil."
builders, but tho face of one
caught his eye.
" It was my man uf the fence,"
he said. " 1 knew W4 should
have only goo<l, genuine work
from him. I gave him the con-
tract, and it made him a richmiui."
It is a pity that boys were not
tauffht in their earlieNt years that
the liighest success only belongs
to the man, be he a carpenter,
farmer, author or artist, whose
work is moat rinceroly and
thoroughly done.— OoW<f» Censer.
QLADSTONE'H
Soon after Mr.
HEART.
U-ladstone's
'>y tho blosaing of God on his soul
through means of the living word
of God as read to him by Mr,
Gladstone.
In the New York 7ViAui«« of , But it was not in vain. 1 he son
Ootobor 11th was published an' became obedient, and the mother's
extract from a London letter heart overflowed with joy.
Some earnest words of advice and
warning and also encouragement,
were then given to the astonished
boy, and the interview ended.
staling thai on Mr. Gladstone's
I'state in Wales there was a poor
charwoman, a woman of the hum-
bler class, earning her living by
day's work. This p<>or woman
had an unruly son. He had out-
grown her authority and had bu>
come the afiliction of her life. She
had come to be well-nigh in
despair concerniuff him.
It occurred to ner one day, in
A THOROUGH JOU,
Judge M , a well-known
jurist livinsr near Cincinnati,
was fond of rolutinsj this an-
ecdote. He once hud oci:usioii
to send to the village lor a
carpenter, and a sturdy young
feIlo\' ijtpearcd with his tools
" I want this fence mended
(o keep out tho cattle. There
are some uuplunod hoards —
use them. It is out of sight
• fiom the hiiuse, so you need
not take time to make it a neat
job. I will pay you only a
dollar and a half."
The Judge went to dinner,
and coming out, found the
man cari'l'ully planing each
board. Supposing that he was
trying to make a costly job
out of it, he ordered him to
nail them on at once just as
they were, and continued his
walk. U hen he returned the
boards were planed and num-
bered ready for nnihng.
" I told you this fence was
to be covered with vines,'' he
said angrily. " I do not care
how it looks."
" I do," said the carpenter,
gruifly, carefully measuring
his work. 'When it was finish-
ed, there was no part of the
fence so thorough in iiiiiah.
"How much do you charge?"
asked thf Judge.
• A dollar and a hall,'' said the
mall, shoulderiufj his tools.
Tlie Judge starod. •• Why did
you s|ieiid all that labor on the
job, if not for moii y ?"
" For tho job, sir."
•' Nobody would liavo seen the
poor work on it."
" But I should „ave known it
was there. "No; I'll take only
the dollar and a hali." And he
took it and went away.
When such men are at the helm
of affairs of slate or empire, We
ought uot to forget to lie devoutly
thankful. It surely is no time
then to show any appearance of
a want of capacity for appreciating
such an example of CIvistian faith,
and the thoughtful Christian life
to which naturally leads,
both in fi .1 in little ouea,—
Religioui ...,uld.
BIBLK PRAYERS AND
ANSWERS.
Remember not the sins of
my youth, nor my Iransgret-
•ions. — Psa. 2S. 7.
Antv)er.—\, tsT-.xi I, am he
that blotteth out thy trans-
gressions, for mine own sake,
and will not remember thy
•ins. — Isa. 4:i, 26.
Lord, if thou wilt, thou
canst make me clean. — Matt.
8.2.
An$. — I will; be thou clean.
—Matt. 8. 3.
Create in me a clean heart,
O God, and renew a right
ithin me.— Psalms
spirit
61. ^
A
wonderful campaign in Scotland,
and just when Her Majesty had
called him to be Prime Minister
of the Nalitn, he found time to
seek out a poor, aged man who
used to earn his bread by sweep-
ing the street-crossings near the
House of Commons, and who
had been missed from his
i
;^!ace by the keen eye of the
first ruler of the land under
the Queen, and visited with so
much benefit that when the city
Ten years afterward, the Judge 'missionary called, he found the
had the contract to give for the old man's room made comfortable
building of certain magniiicent by medical attendance, nursing,
public buildings. There were etc., and also that the evening of
many applicants among master. I the old pilgrim's days had been
made brighter than his morning,
her extremity, to tell her trouble
to Mr. Gladstone. On the first
opportunity she did so. He
listened kindly and attontivelr to
her story, and then said to her,
" Send the boy to my study."
She sent him accordingly, and
in due time the boy appeared
there. Mr. Gladstone received
him kindly, and then said to him :
" Before we proceed to the matter
for which I called you here, let
us join in a few words of prayer,"
Then the Premier of England, on
bended knee, implored help from
tho Almighty for the son, and for
his mother, the poor charwoman.
lew heart also will
., and a new spirit
will I put within you. — Eiek.
86. 26.
Wash mo and 1 shall be
whiter than snow.— Psalms
61.7.
Ans. — Though your sins be
as Rcarlet, they shall be as
white as snow. — Isa. 1. 18, —
Living Epislle.
»
A NEWSPAPER SCRAP.
The Rev, C. H, Spurgoon
relates in the Sword and Trowel
for the current mouth an
interesting incident. Mr.
Spurgeon's son Thomas, in a
letter recently written to his
mother from Auckland, New
Zealand, inclosed a portion
torn off an old Australian
paper, concerning which he
says : " This scrap of nows-
paper has been given to me
by a town missionary here,
who regards it as a very pre-
cious relic. It came to him
from a man who died in the
hospital ; he bequeathed it to
his visitor as a great treasure. It
is a portion of the Melbourne Ar-
gus, and contains a portion of
father's sermon, ' Loving Advice
for Anxious Seekers.' The man
found it on the floor oi a hut in
Australia, and was brought by its
perusal to a knowledge of the
tmth as it is in Jesus. He kept
it carefully while he lived ; it
was discolored and torn when he
found it, and on his death-bed
he gave it to the missionary as
the only treasure he had to leave ^
behind him."
«H^
Uf
4
Ivico and
ignmi'iit,
itoiiiched
' ended.
1 he ion
I mother'i
>y-
the holm
inire, wo
devoutly
no time
»rance of
necittting
iikii faith,
'Ulian life
lly leads,
lo oae».—
18 AND
ho sina of
I ran agree*
I, am hu
thy trans-
own aako,
umber thy
wilt, thou
aan.— Matt.
thou clean.
:lean heart
■w a right
le.— Psalms
Art also will
, now apirit
you. — £iek.
. I ohall be
^w.— Paalma
our aina bo
shall be as
Isa. 1. 18,—
R SCRAP.
1. Spurgeon
•dand Trowel
mouth an
dont. Mr.
Thomas, in a
ritten to his
clcland. New
<1 a portion
Australian
,g which ho
rap of news-
given to me
lionary here,
IS a very pre-
ame to him
died in the
eathed it to
I treasure, ll
VIelbourne Ar-
a portion of
oving Advice
8.' The man
ir ot a hut in
jrought by its
ledge of the
lus. He kept
he lived; it
torn when he
his death-bed
missionary as
s had to leave
'' Till':
HKI'UINTKD STORIES. FROM TUT. "NORTIIKRN MKSSKNdKR."
IF YOU
■WPMWn fWHI llll MBA*^
HAVE A
If
1 II r««te***M**Mallh*«fllH,tlntM,
MlSIcitoV MIS-
IIV I. rill AIKIVI.E
It was A liir(h<liky pronoiit.
and llerliii wan nrvor weary
oliookiiiK at iIh iiiiuiy boau-
tioN or of lialciiiiiir to tho
MWoet tunoH It pliiyod.
" My own lovi-ly iniiKic-
box, my tronsiin- , I cfitiM
kus you ! "
Up wii* very softly to
hiiuselfsnyini^ this ovit and
over again, whon he mikI-
donly buraiue coiikiioim of
s.imebody lookinu: at him ;
and anre onough, thoru wns
little Magifio l)ol8n crourh-
inginthodoerway. Cronch-
ing, I say, honauHp. l>pinjf u
poor, all-outuf-shapo hlilc
creature, shi> could not
stand upright.
Mrs. Dolnn, " llonost
Kate," was awaahorwomaii,
and whenever she worked
for Bertie's mother was told
to bring Msffgio, in order
that the afllictod child might
have one happy day at least
in the long week.
The instant liertio spied
Maggie, he said,
" Come in, and I'll make
my beauty-box play all its
tunes for you, if you'd like."
She needed no urginir,
but creeping in qnickly,
she curled her wee, twisted
form close to his feet, and
fixing her large,unnaturally
bright eyes upon him, pre- ~ ' ~
l>ared to libteii. Ilcrlic wound land couldn't sfot to his house,
the box up, and with a happy even if they were to know that
smile watched lor its etfect upon he would play it for them. That
PLEASANT THOIKIMT
J^Uii-rTii-ltf ' «J«I" < I il'-STlfe J J#i:'l
^ff^^*^gM^:^g^^^ii^
n*. r«f Ik* «hlMr«B •! Ml !•▼*— Aii^aaAf*laiik«k*»«aWT«, tiaf H lr«Mtk*kMti.
J37
fnw IbrRctfiil, the eagwr
chiUiW rMftlndiKl them , i(
they W8«ed cold, the child-
ren wartiied them. A (rrei^t,
noble work ol l>en»T(i|eiiee
grew out of liltle llertie'a
rhildi"h thonifhu over his
beloved muKJe-imx. Any-
thine limy be rsed lor the
Lord it only it be given
cheerfully to him, with the
desire that he use it as he
thinks best — anything, even
a little "niusie-box." — Chrit-
tian Werklfi.
A tovtnff h^ari.
If jou biTv a pleuant llinu(ht,
Mini It, linii it :
As tb« birili ciiiiK in tlioir aport,
Hin^ it from the hurt :
DoM 111' ll'ily Hpirit move,
For th*' :ulUr«ii of Li^ loru —
BiDff. .'ii 1 point the homo tbovo.
.Siui( it from tlio tifarL
Ersrjr frseioui <leod of hii,
Bing it. ftiog it ;
NothiDfT houikIm hu well an this.
SluK it from tlia lieart :
Bow the Lord wslkad on tli« wart—
Baaouei! lAtarui from the grave —
Oud for gulltj louli to laTe^
Blag It from the heart.
Are you wearjr, aro you sad —
Hing it, ling it:
Make yonraelvei and otheri glad,
Bing it from the heart :
Angels now before bis faoe
Bingof Chriit's redeeming grace
Oive the Havlour endleea praiiie,
fjing it from the heart.
— B. Morris.
his visitor.
Wonderfully soft trrew the
brown eyes, a inint Hush tinted
the white cheeks, and then, to
the boy's unspeakable surprise,
slowly the tears beiraii to fall.
" What makes you cry, Majfgie V
Does it make you feel badly ! I'm
ever so sorry.
"Indade, it's not that. I could
just go OP a-hearin' the like uv it
for iver. It's the swato sound uv
it that makes the tears come, I'm
thinkin'."
This child's emotion was a re-
velation to hira Again and again
did he " set" the music-box in or-
der that she might enjoy the sweet
tinkling notes.
Some time after, Kate Dolan,
seeking Ker child, came upon the
two, happy as two imiocent birds,
listening to the "beauty box."
Thus it came about that every
time Maggie came with her mo-
ther she also came into the sittinrr-
room, and Bertie gave her a luusii;
feast.
But the very best part of the
story is this, Magsjie Dolan's en-
joyment of the sweet music set
our Bertie thinking. He talked
with his mamma a great deni
about his thoughts. Shall 1 tell
you what they were about ?
Well, he thought that m the
city where he lived there wei« a
great many sick children who
woald like to hear his music-box,
was his first thought. But that
thought grew, and more thoughts
were added to it. And, as the
result of all this thinking, one
day dear little Bertie and a cousin,
who also bad a music-box, and
whose name was Charlie, started
off upon a sweet mission.
They took with them a number
of tiny bunches of flowers, and
they sought out the darkest,
dingiest streets where the poor
people lived. Here they asked
for any sick children, and having
found some, they first cheered
them with the soft, tinkling tunes
of the " beauty boxes," then gave
each some flowers to give them
[jjeasure when they left their
miserable home:*.
In one day's loving labor they
found .six dear suH'ering ones, and
the next clav two more ; and then
seeing that thev could spend but
11 little time with each if they went
tinually of their " poor sick " little
ones. By means of this persever-
ing trio, who did not grow weary
in well-doing, but found new de-
light in their mission day by day,
more unfortunate ones were dis-
covered from time to time. In
the course of time a new field was
opened *o Bertie and his little
helpers. 1 1 happened in this way.
The older people thought best to
secure places for some of the more
complicated cases of hip and spinal
disease thus brought to light in
the City Hospital, and thither the
" music-boxes" followed, and you
may be sure that the newly-ar-
rived patients were not the only
ones in that dreary place whose
hearts were gladdened by the pres-
ence of these little messeugers of
the ever blessed Lord. Twice a
week the sufferers in that ho spital
listened, all who wished to at least,
to the sweet child-voices sinking
and the soft notes of the little
music-boxes : and the tired eyes
were cheered by the siffht of
toifelher. they separated and each} beautiful flowers, while the
took hall'. After a while a gentle
little ".'irl who s mw' sweetly joined
them, poing first with Bertie, then
with Charlie.
The parents of these dear little
missionaries furnished all the
dainties, clothing, medicine, and
other needful things, as the child-
ren ascertamed the necessity of
the afflicted ones. They were
visited, comforted, and m many
ways cheered by the older p. opie,
to wnom the children talked con-
wasted bodies were helped on to
recovery, or relieved temporarily
by the kind gifts of the older peo-
ple quickened and urged on to
increased acts of Christian charity
by the loving zeal of these dear
child-workers.
Year by year the "Music Box
Mission" increased in number of
patients and in new devices for
the relief of the sick poor, es-
pecially the afflicted children of
the lower classes. If the parents
KIND TUKATMIiNT OP
HORSES.
It has been observed by
experienced , horse-trainora
that naturally vicious horse*
•re rare, and that among
those that are properly
trained and kindly treated
when colts they are the ex-
ception.
It is superfluous to say
that a gentle and docile
horse is always the more
valuable, other equalities be-
ing equal, and it i* almost
obvious that gentle treat-
ment tends to develop this
admirable quality in the
horse as well in the human
species, while harsh treat-
ment has the contrary tend-
ency. Horses have been
trained so as to be entirely
governed by the words of
the driver, and they will
obey, and perform their
simple but important duties with
as much alacrity as the child obeys
the direction of the parent.
It is true that all horses are not
equally intelligent and tractable,
but it is probable that there is less
difTerence among them in this re-
gard than there is among the
human masters, since there are
many incitements and ambitions
among men that do not affect ani-
mals.
The horse learns to know and
to have confidence in a gentle
driver, and soon discovers how to
secure for himself that which he
desires, and to understand his
surroundings and his duties. The
tone, volume, and inflection of
his master's voice indicate much,
perhaps more than the words that
are spoken. Soothing tones rather
than words calm him if excited
by fear or anger, and angry and
excited tones tend to excite or
anger him. In short bad masters
make bad horses. — Sciunti/ic
American.
^A>^-
The Crime of constructive as
well as actual murder is recog-
nized even in human law. Mu;h
more in the law of God. A lady
in Indiana called a certain rum-
shop a "murder-mill" She wag
prosecuted for slander ; but being
able to prove that her allegation
was true, she won the suit. "Mur-
der-mills" are ^o be found, not
only in Indiana, but in every state a
:^=^ — 4
RKPRINTKD STORIKS. FHOM TIIK "NOnTHKHN MESSENGER.
«H»
I
' HOW SANTA CLAUS CUBED
HATTIB.
Was Hnttie, then, sick ; and
was Santa Clans turned physician?
Not exactly ; and yet a very
troublesome complaint had seized
hold of Hattie. It affected her in
this way. When her mother said,
" Come, Hattie, it is time for yon
to go to bed," ilattie seemed to
be stricken with a sudden par-
alysis of the limbs ; that is, she
appeared to lose the use of them.
She never sprang up from her
play to run at oncy for her night-
dress and wrapper ; although,
generally, no little girl could be
found more nimble and
quick. If she happened
to be reading a book,
her hands moved so
slowly to lay it down,
that one would think
they had grown to it.
Three and four times her
mother was obliged to
speak to her before there
would be any movement
toward obeying her.
"Come, Hattie," the
patient mamma would
say once more, and think
that now her little girl
would soon beundressed.
But Hattie must stop to
caress Rover a minute
on her way to the nur
sery ; or frolic a little
with Freddie, who was
kicking up his baby feet
in the crib ; or doUie was
discovered lying, face
down, uudor the rockers,
and mu.st be made com-
fortable.
When, at last, the pro-
cess of undressinsj was
commenced, and Hattio's
reluctant iingers slowly
essayed the task of un-
fastening her dress or
untying her shoes, it was
reallv surprising how
sore Hattie's thumbs sud-
denly crew, and how
many knots there always
were in those trouble
some strings. Sometimes
she would be found
sittinglike "my son John
— with one stocking off
and one stocking on" —
gazing idly into the lire
for minutes together ; or,
with one sleeve hanging,
and the other slipped
half wav off her arm,
she would seize Maltee,
the kitten, and drag her
throufih a series of
waltzes, unmindful of her own
condition and of her mother's
long waiting. It seemed as if she
never would get ready for bed.
Now, Santa Clans had seen
this— how sorely Mrs. Reed was
tried by this bad habit of Hattie,
and how Hattie herself whs grow-
ing up with a very hurtful dis-
ease preying upon her character.
Ho resolved upon a cure.
! Christmas was approaching.
He had held several private inter-
iPS4*
views with Hattie's papa and
mamma, and found out what
their little daughter nost wished
for. For a whole year, she had
been wishing for a set of rose-
wood furniture for her dollie —
like the one Gracie Mills received
last Christmas — and had not been
slow to express the desire in her
mother's hearing. More than
anything else, she longed for a
new box of water colors, and to
possess that beautiful picture, the
" Babe of Bethlehem" ; for Hattie
was a young artist ii) her tastes,
and, in fact, in practice.
All these things, and a great
usual, with a light heart, and vi-
sions dancing through her head if
not of sugar plums, of things quite
If pleasing, and less transitory.
Full fifteen minutes longer than
usual, even, was she in getting
ready to retire, and only went at
last upon a hint from papa that
Santa Claus was sometimes known
to punish dilatory childien.
This puzzled her a little, but
did not prevent her from indulg-
ing in the most delightful antici-
pations for the morrow.
Bright and early she rose, eager
to get down stairs, but checked
her impatience till perfectly and
THE niRD'S CHRISTMAS TREE
many more, including story-books < neatly dressed, and then flew to
and games, she ventured to hope ; see her expected treasures,
would be laid on her Christmas i n,u, on entering the room her
table ; for this was the way her i countenance suddenly fell. The
presents always came When she little table stood empty— quite
came down stairs Christmas morn- : empty-save a note that lay on
ing there it always st.iod in the lit, addressed, in fair-printed char-
muldleof the room- ti little table, I acter, to "Miss Hattie Reed."
The " Merry Christmas'
to be sure, but well fillei. with
pretty things , and she h<A only
to guess from whom the, came.
So, " the night before Christ-
mas " Hattie went to bed, as
to her
papa and mamma died on her lips ;
and she looked from one to an-
other in bewilderment.
"Read your letter, Hattie,"
said papa. "Perhaps that will
explain matters."
So Hattie, just ready to burst
into tears, opened the small en-
velope, and read :
My Dear Hattie :— Ton know I
am rather an eccentric old fellow,
but punctnal. When was I ever
known to fail of calling ronnd at
your table on Christmas Eve?
You think, maybe, that I was not
there this year ; but I was.
Owing to the very long journey
I had to make, I was obliged to
start early— just as soon, in fact,
as the sun was down; and, as
yonr father's house came among
the first on my way, 1
drew my coursers up to
his chimney just as you
commenced to andress
for bed. "Just in time,"
I said to myself. "Whoa,
Comet ! Whoa, Cupid r
I'll be down there and
bark in a minute."
But I wanted to wait
till you should be fairly
out of sight. After a lit-
tle, I started down the
chimney, sure that you
were, by that time, snug
between the sheets. But
I heard you talking to
the cat, and your mamma
oaying, " Come Hattie,
make haste." So I went
back to my tiny reindeer,
who were getting very
restive, standing there on
the frosty ro<rf "Wait
a bit," I said.
By and by, I went
down again. There you
stood, in your bare fcet,
all dressed in white, the
echo of your good-night
kisses just coming up the
chimney ; and I thought,
" Now, in a minute more,
she will be gone; then
I'll straight to ray work,
Hud be off;" for, on look-
ing at my watch, I found
I had wasted twenty-
two minutes and a half
waiting for you. So I
took another peep, ex-
pecting to see your figure
disappear through the
nursery door ; hut on the
way you had picked up
a pair of scissors, and
squatted on the floor to
cut your toe-naiTfe.
I could not possibly
wait any longer. Dnnder
and Blixen were pawing
away with their eight
little hooif; anxious to
bo on the road again; for they
knew, as well as I, how many
hundreds of little stockings and
tables just as deserving as yours
were waiting to be filled.
So I sprang up th« chimney,
and left you. I don't know
whether you got to bed at all or
not. The gray morn was begin-
ning to dawn before I got home
from my journey ; and I nad only
time to scribble this note, and
send it by my servant. Jack Frost,
I
m4»
,at will
to bUTkt
nail en-
know I
i fellow,
ks I ever
round at
u Eve?
was not
.8.
journey
bliged to
i,in fact,
and, as
e amon^
J way, I
era up to
9t as you
undress
; in time,"
"Whoa,
Cupid \
:hoTe and
te."
d to wait
be fairly
^fter a lit-
down the
that you
ime, snug
leets. But
talking to
ur mamma
le Hattie,
So I went
y reindeer,
'tting very
ig there on
irf " Wait
r, I went
There you
r bare leet,
white, the
good-night
ningupthe
i I thought,
inutemore,
fone ; then
my work,
or, on look-
tch, I found
ed twenty-
and a half
you. So I
peep, ex-
your liguro
1 rough the
; l.ut on the
picked up
cisBors, and
the floor to
naiT^:
lot possibly
;er. Dunder
pere pawing
their eight
anxious to
n; for they
how many
:ockingB and
ing as yours
lied.
he chimney,
don't know
bed at all or
n was begin-
I got homo
d I nad only
is note, and
t, Jock Frost,
I
RKPRINTKD STORIES. FROM TIIK " NORTH RRN MRSSKNOER.'
139
\
w
who will leave it on your table,
with my good wishes.
I am sorry for your disappoint-
ment this morning; but yon
understand it is all vour own fault,
— a fault of whicK I Lope you
will be cured before another
merry Christmas.
Santa Clavs.
Poor Hattie ! Long before she
f;ot to the end of this letter, her
ittle heart broke ; and, without
waiting to see how truly good
Santa Claus was her friend, after
all, she buried her face in her
mother's lap, and cried bitterly.
The punishment was almost too
much for her to bear. Santa
Claus' prescription was a good
one. If he watches Hattie bow
from night to night, ho will sou,
that, when the hour for retiring
comes she goes quickly and
quietly to bed ; and her mamma
never has to say, " Come, Hattie,
make haste," He will find that
Hattie has formed a determina-
tion to break up entirely her old,
bad habit ; and I should n >t be
surprised if, next Christmas morn-
ing, her little table should prove
quite too small to hold all that
generous old fellow will heap
upon it. — Christian Banner.
THE NEW YEAR'S MESSAGE.
A new year has begun. What
kind of a year is it to be to you,
boys and girls ? Is it t» be indeed
a "happy" one? That will de-
pend on yourself. " On myself?"
some little one asks with surprise.
Yes, my dear, on your own little
self.
Don't you believe that God
wants you to have a happy year V
Indeed He does ; and Ho is ready
to do all He can to make it so.
But even God, who, wo are ac-
customed to say, can do every-
thing, cannot make a happy year
for you unless you help Him.
And how can you help Him ?
By doing just as He wants you to
do in everything. He wants you
to speak the truth, to be obedient
to your parents, to be kind and
loving to every one, to be indus-
trious, pure-minded and honest
He wants you to keep the Sabbath
holy, to read the Bible, to pray to
Him every day, to confess and
forsake sin, to trust and love
Jesus.
N'ow, are you ready for all this V
If you are, your year will begin
with God's smile, and His loving
face will beam on you to the very
end. And what a happy yeiir
you will have! You will sny
when you come to its close that
you never had such a happy one
before.
Ah, God knows very well what
will make us happy. It is to
have no naughty will of our own,
but to do His will. It is to love
the Lord our God with all our
heart and soul and mind and
strength, and our neighbor us
ourselves.
Dear children, we are all by
nature sinful, and so we do not
love to do this. We choose to go
on in our own way and so we i
are not happy. We need new
hearts ; that is what we need most,
every one of us. We must go to
our heavenly PJtther and ask Him
for Jesus' sake to give us the now
heart, washed from sin in the
precious blood of Christ, and
made soft and pure and tender
and right. Then we shall love
to please God, to do His will, and
shall bo happy. — Child's Com-
//anion.
AND
WORK FOil BOYS
GIRLS.
W hat is this cat doing ? What
are there so many birds around
her tor ? Who ever saw so many
birds hopping around so near to
a cat ? How many boys and girls
will write and tell us all about it V
To the boy or girl who sends us
the best story about this picture
addressed "Puzzles, Northebn
Messknoer, Witness Office,
Montreal." In sending tha stories
he sure and give your full name
and Post Office address.
FOR THE LITTLE ONES.
Here is something for the little
ones to do. How many of them
have done what the little boy and
girl in the picture on the last
page are doing. We wish that
every boy and girl under twelve
years of age who reads the Mes-
senger would tell us just what
these two are doing and how they
doit.
For the best story about this
picture, written by a boy or girl
under twelve years old, we will
sen d a beauti ful illustrated relume
of Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales,
and for the second best story a
wo will send whichever of the
following books he or she may
choose :— Poems of Sir Walter
Scott, complete with notes, " Tom
lirown's School Days," bv Thomas
I Inches, the poems of Elizabeth
Uarrett Browning or the poems
of Jean Ingelow.
For the second best story on
this picture will be given a hand-
somely bound volume of the
"Swiss Family Robinson," or
" The Scottish Chiefs."
Those who try for those prizes
must 1)0 over twelve years of ago
and under sixteen. The story
must be written on one side of
the paper only, and the spelling
and writing will be taken into
consideration in awarding the
prize. The stories must be sent
iu befo'-e the lirst of February and
volume of " Chatterbox" for 1882,
a large book full of pictures and
delightful reading. The same
general rules will apply to this
as to the story for the older ones
THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS
TREE.
Do you know what people do
in Norway ? Why, at harvest
time they put aside one sheaf, just
as it is, in a corner of the barn,
and there it stays till Christmas
conies, and on Christmas Eve they
bring it out, and they get their
ladders and hann^ their sheaf of
corn right over the barn door.
Sometimes the sheaf is put on the
top of a tall jKile, and great is the
rejoicing amongst the children
when they see the expectant birds
begin their meal. And they take
all this trouble on purpose for
the birds, for they think thep
ought to have a merry Christmas
as well as we. — ChM's Cow-
panion.
SALT MACKEREL.
BY REV. ASA BULLARD.
Mr. John Wanamaker, of Phila-
delphia, is well known as a most
enterprising and honoraMe busi-
ness man, and aa also d-^e^ 'y in-
terested in every good wora and
work. He finds, or makes time,
amid all the pressure of an ex-
tensive business, to conduct one
of the largest Sunday-schools in
our country.
In one of his addresses, at the
late London Sunday-schools Cen-
tenary, Mr. Wanamaker illustrated
the importance of giving God
what costs us something, Dy the
following incident : —
" God forbid that our church
work — ourSunday-school work —
shall come when we have nothing
else to do. A gentleman was with
his little boy attending a service
where the minister gave a wonder-
ful missionary sermon that stirred
the man's heart as he listened to
it. He went home — sat down to
the frugal meal with his boy, and
after a while he said to his son:
" ' Was not that a wonderful
sermon ? We have got to do
something more for the missionary
cause than wo have ever done
yet. It is astonishing I never
thought of giving anything more
for this work.'
" The son said : ' You cannot
give anything more. We have a
hard time as it is.'
" ' I must,' said the father, ' do
something in this cause, now. I
am prepared to give up the butter
on my bread, and, if necessary —
the sugar out of my coffee.'
" Wonderful sacrifice !" said Mr.
Wanamaker. " I am afraid 1 could
not be led to that myself
" ' Now,' said the father to his
son, ' Bob, what will you do ? '
"'Well, father,' said Bob, 'I
can't do anything.'
" ' Ah,' said the father, ' you
cau give up something, just as I
have done.'
" ' I don't know about that,'
said Bob. He paused a little and
then said — ' I will ; I will give
up salt mackerel. You see we
don't have it very often and I
don't like it much, anyhow.'
" Well, now," said the speaker,
" that is a simple story, but it
illustrates precisely what I mean.
It seems as if we give God and
his work the last few minutes of
the day, or a little shred of time
here and there. Rather let us
bring our best. I don't believe
it possible that a man who will
take an hour or two hours of tha
heart of tho busiest day for God's
work will ever regret it. I am
ready to say deliberately, I don't
believe that God is willing that
any of us shall be indebted
him." — Church and Home.
^H9 I SH^
that
d to*
f
140
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THU " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
n
THE LONGEST DAY IN THE straight into the mill-pond.
"Daniel! Dauitl ! Come on
now, and be spry about it !" called
YEAR,
BY KMILY HtlNTINOTON MILLER.
I don't know what the almanac
his father, as he moved toward
• J u i. -i^ L I r> • , . I the grindstone ; and Dan obeyed,
man said about ,t, but Dan sa.d it , hough he felt as if his feet had
was the longest and Dan wascer-i n ^^ ^^^e turned to lead.
tainly the one who understood the
matter best.
It began pretty much like other
days, only that there was a heavy
fog, and Dan knew that it was bad
weather for haying and tip-top
for fishing. He made up his
mind to go fishing. Perhaps if
his mind had not been already
made up, he would tot have
minded it so much when his
father said at the breakiiast
table:
" We must get the scythes
in good order, so's to take i
fair start at the lower meadow
to-morrow. Don't let me
have to waste time hunting
after you, Daniel, when I'm
ready to go at it."
Daniel's appetite was gone
at once. How^ he hated to
turn that heavy, creaking old
grindstone I and how sure his
father was to find a dozen
things to do first, and keep
him w^aiting'all the morning !
He went around by the sink
drain and dug his bait ; ho
examined his fishing-polo ; he
put up his lunch ; ho even
tried a worm on the hook;
and then he wandered dis
consolately around, wisliing
grindstones had never been
invented.
Ho went to the end of the
garden and leaned sulkily
over the low stone wall, eit-
ing the half-ripe harvest
apples, iiud throwing the cores
spitefully away. Down the
road a few rods lay the inill-
pond, and in the middle of
the road near by stood Deacon
Skinner's horse and chaise.
Old Whitey had his nose
down, and one leg crooked in
a meditative fashion. The
Deacon was ovor in the field,
making a bartraiii with Solo-
mon Jfurray for some yonng
cattle. What fun it would
1)0 to start the old horse up,
and set him trotting home !
Dan could almost hit him with
un apple core. Ho tried two
or three, just to gee, and then
he picked a smooth, round
stone from the wall and sent
it singintr through the air.
Old Whiley brought up his
nose with a lerk, straitrhtened his
fore-lee, and stiirti'd oil at a l)risk
trot, the chaisi' to)) tilting and
pitching back and iVr,-ili.
Dan hniitliril — 111 li'.-i.-t till' liiueh
began to grow, whi'u he cansflit
one glimpse ol a irii;;liti'iUHl liltio
face at th>> ehaisi' window, and
knew that Naiinie Daiio, the
Deacon's little larno grandchild,
was in tlio chaise.
It was only ii glimpse, and then
the bank nl' irray fog swallowed
Whitey and thi' chaise, and it
seemed to Diii tliat thiv had aoiii'
Round and round and round ;
his tough little hands were
blistered on the handle, but ho
did not know it ; his month and
throat were as dry as the stone,
but he did not think of it. " Crrr-
rrrr-crrr," rang the rough, weari-
some noise, until his ears were so
deafened he did not even hear it.
For he was perfectly sure he had
killed little Nanny Dane. What
and tell his father, he would tell
everybody. They might hang
him, they might do anything they
pleased. Truofring desperately
home with his empty basket in
his hand, he heard the sound of
wheels behind him, dragging
slowly through the deep sand.
Perhaps that was the Sheriff
coming to arrest him. Dan's
heart beat harder, but ha did not
look around. The wheels came
nearer ; they stopped, and some
one said :
" Hullo, Daniel ! been fishin' ?
Fisherman's luck, hey ? Well,
jump in here, and I'll give ye a
lift."
just trotted off home as stiddy as
if I'd been driving, and waited at
the door for mother to come and
get Nannie before ho went to the
barn."
"Oh, Deacon Skinner," burst
out Dan, " It was me ; I scart
Whitey."
"Did ye now, sonny 7 Well,
there wuzn't any harm done, and
I know ye didn't mean to."
" I did, I did," said Dan, sob-
bing violently from the long
strain of excitement. " I didn't
know Nanny was in the chaise,
and I threw a stone at him."
" Well, well," said the Deacon,
rubbing his stubbly chin, and
'looking curiously at Dan.
" Beats all what freaks boys
will take, but I know ye
won't do it agin."
" I never will," said Dan
solemnly. " This has been
the awfniest longest day that
ever was in the world." —
Harfer'i Young People
THE
LAMB AND
PONY.
THE
PRAWlN'd
ODIllne Driwlng by lUriliou W«lr.
would peopie say ? What wouid
they do to him V Hang him,
of courfo ; and Dan felt in his
heart that ho deserved it, and that
it would be almost a satisfaction.
" There, " said his lather at last,
"I reckon that'll do, Daniel.
You've been faithful and stiddy
at your work and now you may
go fishing.'
Dan never knew how he got to
Long Pond, or how ho passed the
slow hours of that dismal day.
The misery seemed intolerable,
and before evening he had made
up his mind that he could bear it
no loiiirer. He would iro homo
A curious friendship once
existed between a lamb and a
pony. The lamb, which was
purchased by a farmer in Eng-
land from a passing shepherS,
was very wild, and grieved at
being separated from (he
flock. It was nn odd, sturdy-
looking creature with a black
face. The farmer put it in a
meadow in company with a
cow and a little white pony.
The lamb took no notice of
the cow ; but the pony seemed
to captivate its heart at once.
Wherever the one went, the
other followed. If people
gathered, as was natural, to
look at the companions, the
lamb would slip under the
pony and pop out its head be-
tween his fore or hind legs,
with an air of perfect security.
At night it wont regularly to
the stable, and slept in the
manger near it.s favorite. If
as sometimes happened, the
pony was taken to draw the
farmer's wife to market, the
lamb bleated pitifully all
the time it was away, and
frisked aboijt joyfully on its
return.
One day, to test its love, its
Before Dan knew it he was | owner carried the lamb to a
over the wheel and sitting beside j pasture where a flock of sheep
Deacon Skinner in the old chaise, was grazing. The pony went
with Whitey switching his tail j too. In the course of the day the
right and left as he plodded along. ; farmer came after the pony, and
"Git up, Whitey," urged the j mounting him, rode homeward.
Deacon ; " it's getting alotig to- Presently he looked behind. Yes,
ward chore-time. Whitey ain't | there came the shaggy, black-
so spry as he used to be, but he's ; faced lamb, forsaking its own
amazin' smart. This morniii' I kindred, and rushing on its eager
LESSON.
ti a dTftwlDs !• cnn fcr ih* rontic
left little Nannie in the shay while
1 was making a dicker with Solo-
mon Murray, and akeerless thing
it was to do, but I'd as soon ex-
pected the mcetin'-house to run
away as Whitey. I reckon some-
thiiiir must have scart him; but he
legs to overtake its adopted
friend.
Whether the pony returned
this alioction we do not know.
It neither resented it nor appear-
ed weary of it, at all events.-'
Ilarjter's V'omm^ Piniile, .
«4*
stiddy as
waited at
:onie and
ant to the
^r,' burnt
I scart
? Well,
done, and
0."
Dan, sob-
the lon^
" I didn't
he chaise,
lim."
,e Deacon,
chin, and
at Dan.
reaka boys
know yo
said Dan
has been
it day that
world." —
opie
ND THE
[Iship once
lamb and a
which was
mer in Eng-
g shephortl,
(i grieved at
from Iho
)dil, sturdy-
with a black
r put it in a
)any with a
white pony.
10 notice of
)ony seemed
?art at once,
le went, the
If people
natural, to
panions, the
3 \inder the
t its head be-
jr hind legs,
feet security,
regularly to
slept in the
favorite. If
ippened, the
to draw the
market, the
pitifully all
< away, and
lyfuUy on its
st its love, its
lumb to a
)ck of sheep
pony went
)f the day the
he pony, ami
8 homeward,
behind. Yec,
laggy, black-
ling its own
g oil its eager
its adopted
)ny returned
;lo not know,
it nor appear-
all events.—
pie.
r=
mtn
THE FARMER'S FRIEND.
A farmer of Cobham was in the
habit of goi:g to a market some
miles distant on horseback and on
such occasions, not knowing how
extensivo his purchases might be,
always carried a considerable
amount of cash with him. He
never, however, took his dog with
him on market l<^t. a» Lo might
be in tho way bni the faithful
animal, a large sheep dog, used
always to keep watch at the front
door as soon as the hour ap-
proached for his master's return.
One evening the farmer's four-
footed friend was at his usual post,
when to his astonishment
ho saw the horse return
without a rider. One mo-
ment's reflection seemed to
be sufficient, for off he
bounded in the direction
the horse had come from,
and at no great distance
found his master struggling
with a couplo of desperate-
looking men.
Without a sound he
made straight for the throat
of one of the ruffians, and
brought him to the ground,
while his master wrestled
with the other.
In the meantime the
stable-boy, Rnding the
horse at the stable-door
without a rider, concluded
something was wronsj^,
jumped on the horse's
buck and set out — ho, too,
thinking his master had
had an accident and fallen
from his horse ; hut the
scene which met his view-
was far from what he ex-
pected ; one of the robbers
lay prostrate on tho ground
with the dog standing
guard over him, while his
master had just over-
powered the other, who
was pleading for mercy,
but was easily secured
with tho lad's help, and
both were duly punished.
— Sundai/.
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE '• NOfrniERN .MK.SSENGER."
HI
" I would," cried Johnny. " I
want to go to the Sunday-school.
Benny Frank goes, and he says it
is first-rate."
Mr. Winter laughed, and patted
Johnny's head. I saw that the
boy was his father's idol, and if
my point were gained it would
be through him.
" To tell you (he truth, miss,"
said Mr. Winter, "I haven t much
opinion of Sunday-schools and
churches. I suppose you would
be surprised if I should tell you
that I don't believe there is a
God"
" I am not surprised," I said ;
shall expect this little fellow and
his sister next Sunday."
Mr. Winter laughed, but shook
his head, and I went away feeling
disheartened, only as I closed the
door I heard Johnny coaxing, —
" Mayn't I go, father ? I want
to go so much."
Johnny gained his point, and
on tho following Sunday he was
one ol tho first to greet me. His
sister Mary was with him.
Johnny wm a very bright child
for his years. He soon became
deeply interested in the school,
and no matter what the weather
was, he was always present with
A LITTLE CHILD'S
FLUENCE.
hV-
Johnny Winter was an
only son in a family of six
children. His father was
an industrious man, his
mother a careworn, dis-
pirited woman in weak heallh.
Ono day I ventured to call ami
enquire if tho family were con-
nected with any church or riun-
day-school. Mr, Winter was al
home, sitting by the lire with
Johnny on his knee. As I made
the eiuiuirv, Mrs. Winter cast a
pleading glance at her husband,
who replied roughly,--"! don't
believe in that sort of thing, miss."
" I am sorry to hear that,'' I
said, " for I hoped that you would
let your little ones come to our
Sunday-school, if they did not be-
long anyw here else. Our school-
ik room is close by, and I think they
S would like to come.''
iM
TIIK muis ASTONISHMENT.
" but I I'eel .soriy for you, my
friend. Do you wish your child-
ren lo follow you ill your belie!?''
" 1 wimt ihem to thiuk lor them-
.selves, " ho replieil. " 1 shall not
try to iiillueiice them one way or
the other alter they are old
eiiouifh to form their ownopinions,
and I don't want iiiiv one else to.
Thai's what 1 lell uiy wile ; shed
like to have them all go to Sun-
day-school, but I
to 'it."
I saw Mrs. Winter wipe
eyes as she stooped to lay
baby in the cradle, but
not speak.
his lillle hymn perfectly learned.
Some weeks alter this I calleil
at their house. It was in the
inornina-, anil only Mrs. AVinter
aixl the baby were at home. She
was siiiufing, and greeted me willi
such a smile that I could scarcely
believe it was the same counten-
ance I had seen before.
" 1 was just thinking about you.
Miss Scott," she said ; " I want to
won't consent tell you about Johnny, His fa-
thi T will do anything to please
her him, and even hears the little
her I fellow's hymns and verses, to
sho did { mako sure ho knows them for
on. And Johnny tells him all
'fi
Well," I said, rising to go, " I he has heard in school every
Sunday evening, and his father
listens. Oh, miss, I cai>'t help
feeling as though my husband
will give up his foolish notions
sometime, and become a Chris-
tian man. And now Johnny has
begun to coax his father to go
with him to tho children's meet-
ing on Sunday afternoon."
And Johnny conquered again.
Mr. Winter came to the children's
meeting, not only on the next
Sunday, but on the next and the
next, until we felt quite as sure of
seeing him as of seeing Johnny,
So time paescd on until one Sun-
day news was brought ihat
Johnny was very sick with
scarlet fever. I quickly
visited him. He lay iu his
father's arms, panting for
breath, while the poor man
bent over him the picture
of despair.
"Oh, Miss Scott," he
cried, as he saw me, " do
you think that I am going
to lose my Johnny ? It
can't be that God is going
to take him from me."
"I'm so tired, father,"
the little sufferer was say-
ing ; " please pray, ' Our
Father.' "
" Dear Johnny, I forget
the words," and great tears
rolled down the father's
rough cheeks.
"Say it after ir.e, then,
will you, please ; ' Our
Father, which art iu
heaven,'" And Johnny
waited until, in a voice
choked with sobs, his fa-
ther repeated the works.
Then he went on, little by
little, the father following
until the prayer was
finished.
"Doyou stilldisbelieve?'
I asked Mr. Winter, while
we watched besideJohnny.
He shook his head. "That
child has taught me much,"
said he. " He has talked
about Christ and His death
till it melted my heart, and
I was forced to read it for
myself. But it only makes
me wretched — it is good
news for Johnny, not for
me ; I havo denied Him
too often."
" God is your Father,
and loves you infinitely
more than you love littlo
Johnny. For Chri " • sake He
will forgive all past >• ■'■ ,iion and
denials — only plead v, .(h Him iu
the Saviour's name. Ho waits to
bo gracious. His Spirit is even
now drawing you to Himself."
For days the child lingered be-
tween life and death ; then tho
fever subsided, and .Tohniiy be-
gan to recover. In those days of
suspense, while watching beside
the littlo cot, Mr. Winter's heart
was, by God's mercy ond tho
Holy Spirit's power, softened,
and ho came to the knowledge
of tho truth as it is in Jesus, and,
like the poor prodigal, ho returned
to his father. — Fit/ Leaves.
: ^
;
i
i
U2
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM Tiiv "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
9hm
THE KING OF SI AM.
{From the Standard.)
Perhaps some of you have
heard about the work of our
missionaries in Siam, and how
many years Dr. Dean, who was
one of the first there, had to keep
working and praying before any
of the people to whom he preached
became Christians, and you may
know that there are a great many
Chinese in Siam, and that his
work has been among them. The
Lord has honored him very much,
and rewarded him for all his
patient labor and constant faith,
in allowing him to bring a great
many to the Sarionr.
The present king oi Siam is
quite a young man— only
twenty-eight years of age^
and he seems to hare con-
siderable character and in-
dependence. He lately
passed an edict ordering all
his subjects to stand erect
when he passed in his chariot,
instead of bowing with their
faces upon the ground, aa
they and their forefathers
have been accastomed to do
for centuries. What has in-
fluenced him to do this we
do not know, but many think
that the teachings of the
rnissionaries, that we should
humble ourselves only before
God, and not before men,
has brought about thia
change.
This young king, while a
kind-hearted man and inclin-
ed to give his subjects more
liberty than heretofore, is, I
am sorry to say, a polygamist,
that is a man who has many
wives, like the Mormons ;
and some time ago he
thought he would take
several of these women with
him, and visit all the courts
of Europe. There was great
bustle and preparation for
this j ourney. All the women
were to have new and ele-
gant robes, and jewels, and
laces, and the young king's
apparel was to be very fine
and gorgeous, and the several
chariots in which they and
their retinae would journey
for a long distance were to
be newly gilded, and decor-
ated, and upholstered, and
all the people were thinking
how proud they would feel to
see their king start off in such
grand style, and how all the
people in the distant lands he
would visit would gaze at them
and envy their grandeur. I sup-
pose the king instructed his sec-
retary, the mail who writes
his letters for him, to send greet-
iiins to the difFiTent sovereigns,
and announce his coming ; and
you can imagine how surprised
and mortified he must have felt
when a letter was returned from
Queen Victoria, which, instead
of assuring him of a warm wcl-
, come, and telling him that
the Engl>«h people would give
,. grand fete, and hare a mos-
ioal festival in his honor at
the Orjrstal Palace in Sydenham,
stated in a very courteous but
plain manner, that the Queen of
England, who ruled over a Chris-
tian landi, could not extend cour-
tesies to nor receive at her court
any monarch who was a polygam-
ist, and living so against the laws
of God.
It waa a dreadful disappoint-
ment to the king to receive such
a letter, and Lo immediately de-
termined that he would not take
the journev at all, nor attempt to
visit any of the other courts, and
gave orders that all the prepara-
tion* be immediatly raapended.
kok to go up the Biver Jlleinam,
and be present at the dedication
of a beautiful temple in one of the
northern villagea of the empire.
The \an^, surrounded by a num-
ber of hu men of state, dressed in
dashing nniiorms were in the first
barge, while in the next under a
silken canopy in a beautiful ivory
chair, which was placed upon a
platform covered with purple
velvet sat the lovely queen, ele-
gantly dressed,and with diamonds
glistening in her hair, about her
neck, and on her girdle. She was
surrounded by her maids, and
behind her stood a company of
singers, all gaylf attired, and in
roaaineas to make ^e trip
;pmfff
THE 8TICK-OATHKBKB.
It was a new and sad experience | joyful
for the king, and yet all Christians
everywhere could not but applaud
the good queen for showing in
this way her strong Christian
principles, and her disapproval of
wrong.
Shortly after this, to give some
pleasure to his wives, as an offset
to their disappointment, he had a
number of barges fitted out with
many flags and streamers and
gay colors, the crews dressed in
regalia, bands of music and com-
panies of singers on board, and
on a beautiful morning he and
his conrt, with many officials and
invited guests set out from Bang-
and happy. In other
barges were the many wives of
the king with their servants, and
all the bargee were decorated
with flowers and fruits.
Crowds thronged the shores of
the beautiful river to witness the
departure of the royal party in all
their splendor, and as the bands
struck up some martial air, and
the voices of the singers floated
out over the water, and the flotil-
la moved on, a joyfnl shout arose
from the multitude, and huzzas
for the young king and queen.
As they passed up the river the
people from the villages flocked
to the shores to see the spectacle,
and do reverence to the royal
party. After a time the king went
on some distance beyond the
others, and when the barge con-
taining the queen began to fol-
low, it became entangled in some
ropes which had ^en thrown
across the stream and were in
the water, and in a moment the
barge waa capsiaed, and the
queen, the princess and the maids
were thrown violently into the
water. As they rose to the sur-
face they might eaaily have been
rescued, but for a law of the
realm, that, under penalty of
death, no subject could touch
even the clothing of the king or
queen, or royid family, so no effort
was made to save them, and their
cries and pleadings were only
returned by dumb looks ol
despair, as their followers
saw them drown beiore their
ayes.
Then a company was lent
forward to carry the sad news
to the king, who was over-
come and almost erased by
this terribleblow, for beloved
deeply the beautiful queen.
The joy of the whole com-
pany was suddenly turned
into mourning, and the music
was hushed; the flags and
streamers taken down; the
people in tears as they looked
at the empty barge of
their lovely queen, which
now just behind that of the
king, floated slowly back to-
ward the capital, and the
huzsas of the multitude, as
they passed were turned into
wailings.
For many weeks the sad
king lived apart from all,
broken in heart and striving
in vain to grain some comfort
by reading the heathen wri-
ters. He was full of question-
ings with regard to his queen,
and could not feel sure that
she was happy. In his despair
he remembered the mission-
aries, and what he had occa-
sionally heard of their belief,
and so he sent to Dr. Dean for
a Bible, that he might possi-
bly find in that some hope
to cheer him, some balm to
soothe his bleeding heart,
some truth about immortality
which he could believe.
With this earnest purpose he
is now studying the word of
the Lord, and we should all pray
that he may find Him who alone
can give comfort to the sorrowing,
or a sure hope of an endless and
happv life beyond this to his
people.
I
i^Sr*
The king recently made a
present of a horse and carriage to
our veteran missionary. Dr. Dean,
and begged him to let him know
of anything he needed to in-
crease his comfort, showing by
his kindness that he trusted and
respected him in a manner quite
in contrast to' the treatment
received from those in high
places in years gone by.
M^
I
M royal
ngwont
>iid the
rge oon-
to fol-
ia Mme
thrown
were in
nent the
uid the
the maids
into the
the suT-
lave been
w of the
>nalty of
Id touch
king or
no effort
and their
were only
looks ot
followera
Blore their
was lent
e sad news
was over-
craied by
or beloved
fnl queen,
irhole com-
ily turned
1 the music
) flags and
lown ; the
hey looked
barge of
een, which
that of the
ly back to-
,1, and the
altitude, as
turned into
f"
eks the sad
rt from all,
and striving
Dme comfort
eathen wri-
i of question-
to his queen,
el sure that
n his despair
the mission-
he had occa-
f their belief,
I Dr. Dean for
might possi-
l some hope
lome balm to
eding heart,
it immortality
aid believe.
it purpose he
J the word of
lould all pray
[im who alone
he sorrowing,
n endless and
. this to his
atly made a
aii carriage to
lary, Dr. Dean,
let him know
Leeded to in-
, showing by
le trusted and
, manner quite
the treatment
oae in
e by.
::i
"PETER."
American boys and girls whose
delight in looking at Jumbo and
bis c f lebrated legs may have boon
clouded by remembering how
many of thn little English cousins
across the sea were lamenting the
tall old elephant's absence wUl be
glad to know that a new pet has
already been found to take
Jumbo's place.
They are flocking by hundreds
daily to the Zoological Gardens,
where once Jumbo reigned and
carried them trumpeting upon
his broad back, to be introduced
to Peter — a splendid specimen of
the " Chacma" baboon, whose
sparkling countenance and sym-
metrical shape our artist has here
pictured.
Peter came originally from
South Africa on a war ship with
his master, a British officer, who
lately turned his monkey ship
over to the " Zoo." It is disagree-
able to state that his owner did
did so to get rid of him — he was
fast growing too mischievous to
bo endured on shipboard. I fear
Peter is, in truth, no model for
the other monkeys in the Oardens.
He steals ; he bites ; he loves to
tear up anything he can once
fasten his lingers upon. All this
is very sad to learn. Possibly
Mr. Barnum will see that he
ought to be taught to be a good
and happy monkey, and feel
bound to buy him for America
next year. Travel is so improv-
ing to the manners.
Peter has recently had a curious
experience. Did any of you ever
hear of a monkey who had the
toothache, and who took chloro-
form to get rid of it ? Such was
Peter's fortune. Day after day
the poor fellow sat in one corner
of his roomy cage holding his
paw close to his cheek. His
friends, the children with their
mothers and fathers and nurses,
stood around pitying hira and
longing to help hini, but in vain
Peter's jaw began to swell ter-
ribly. At length hid sutTennps
camo to the point where his
keepers said that the cause of all
his woe, an aching molar tooth,
must be drawn, or the poor fellow
would die, for he refused to ciU,
and seemed to become each day
weaker and more dejected. Sud-
denly a London gentleman, Mr.
Hammond, came to the conclusion
that ho could extract the ailing
tooth and save the pet's life.
Peter's illness had made him ex-
ceedingly afraid of any strangers
— quite as cross, in fact, as a good
many of my small readers are
when they have the toothache.
Mr. Hammond and his assistant,
however, entered the cage and
politely presented Peter with a
nice linen handkerchief well
soaked in chloroform.
Peter warily took it, examined it
attentively, and presently pro-
ceeded — not to smell of it at all,
but to calmly lick off all the chloro-
form with much pleasure. Chloro-
form must be smellod to best take
REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
14.^
eff°ect, not swallowed. The hand-
kerchief was prepared again and
again ofliBred. A second time did
the red tongue make its appear-
ance and spoil Mr. Hammond's
kind designs, and indeed for near-
ly half an hour did Peter cun-
ningly get tho best of his friends
by licRing up the chloroform.
Finally, however, tho liquid
began to take effect upon him.
Peter's bright eyes grow dim, his
head drooped. The handkerchief
was held tightly to his nose, and
suddenly he tumbled over sound
asleep, able to undergo any opera-
tion without feeling it.
Now was the time for Mr.
Hammond. The forceps (ugh!)
were produced, and alter some
quick but careful work the tooth
was drawn from the unconscious
tion, which at once showed him
to be a monkey of great force of
character, as well as easy man-
ners. And how modest and re-
tiring too, to judge from the grace-
ful way in which he has tucked
his handsome tail away in the
straw.
Poor Peter, exiled from his hot
South Au'ican jungles and woods,
what strange scenes he might des-
cribe could he only succeed in
acquiring a proper Efnglish accent !
~-of dense boundless forests,
lashed into a sea of waving
houghs at night by hurricanes and
tornadoes ; of calm moonlight
evenings by blue lakes rippled
with silver, where the lion comes
down like a great stealthy cat to
drink and meet a friend for a
hunting excursion ; and of Mrs.
PETEK, THE UABOON, AT THE "ZOO.
sleeper's jaw, safely, and without
rousing him. By-and-by its
ownerawokp. Ho seemed wonder-
fully relieved immediately, but
also somewhat dazed and puzzled
to find out what had been
done to him. At length he
settled down comfortably in a
corner of his cage to think about
it, and recover his spirits.
He was quite too proud to ask
questions. I doubt if he has dis-
discovered yet just what was
done to him, although with that
broad forehead of his he must be
a monkey with a good deal of
mind.
And really is he not a striking
looking stranger. Jiwt notice his
bold glance and the dignified posi-
six, and the majority of them will
then be about as far along in the
business scale as they ever will
be. One or two only, in each of
the above branches, will be es*
tablished in business for them-
selves, or connected with some
firm doing a good business, and
the rest will be barely geMing a
living and growling about their
poor luck. Now we assert that
there is a good reason for their
poor success, and that " luck" has
but little, if anything at all, to do
with it.
If we take the trouble to ascer-
tain the real facts in their several
cases, we shall find that those
young men who became masters
m their trades, or leading men in
their business pursuits, were not
afraid to work, and were deter-
mined to succeed. They looked
beyond the day and week. They
made themselves valuable and
useful to their employers, by being
always faithful, reliable, and will-
ing to do what .they could for the
interest of those for whom they
worked. When a press of busi-
ness came, they were ready and
willing to work extra hours, and
without sulking and grumbling,
well knowing that business must
be attended to when it came, and
that there were plenty of dull
times during the year, which
would more than counterbalance
the extra briskness of the busy
season. To sum it Up, these young
men identified themselves with
the establishment where they
were employed — became useful
to their employers, in fact, fixtures
who could be illy spared and in
due course of time, having gained
experience, were invited to take
ahandwith the alreadyestablished
house, or else boldly struck out
for themselves.
Here, then, is the lesson, which
is, if you wish to become success-
ful masters, learn first to become
faithful servants. — Household.
t
In Dks Moines, Iowa, a Swede
was arrested for making a coward-
ly assault on three peaceable
Chinamen who were on their
way to Sunday-school. One of
the principal witnesses for the
prosecution was Ah Yaf, a boy
13 years old. In reply to the
question, " Do you know what
Peter (only that is not her married perjury means?' he promptly re-
name), who may be wondering all iSponded, "No." The nextques-
thistime why her husband ran t'on was, "Do you know what
away and left her. But there he ' oath means ? " "Yes," was the
is, safe in tho great .London I reply, evinced by holding up his
Zoological Gardens, and there he j light hand after the manner of
IS likely to remain as long as he
lives, unless, as I have already
suggested, Mr. Barnum buys him
anO brings him over to America.
Harper's Younf^ People.
WHAT'S THE REASON ?
Take twenty boys of sixteen, in
our, or any town in the state, let
them go to work, throe or four in
a dry goods store, boot and shoe
finishing establishment, and print-
ing offices. In ten years they
will have become men of twenty-
witnesses when sworn, adding,
" I no tell story, I tell truf." "But,"
continued the lawyer, " Do you
know what will happen to you
if you tell a lie here ? " " Yes,"
said Ah Yaf solemnly, pointing
upward with his little yellow
finger ; " I no go to heaven,"
Onk of the Christian Lead-
ers in the time of the Reforma-
tion was told, " All the world are
against you;" he replied, boldly,
"Then I am against all the world."
I
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REPRINTED STORIl-is, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
«4»
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"RAILWAY JACK."
About three years ago, a rather
large dog of the fox-terrier variety
entered the guard's carriage of a
traia that was Just starting from
Brighton, England, for Horsham
station. He had no ticket, and
did not explain his business ; but
the guard seeing that he was a re'
spectable dog decided to let him
ride free.
From that day to this the dog
who is now well known all over
England by the name of " Rail-
way Jack," has constantly travel-
led on railway trains. For the
first year or two he confined him-
self strictly to the trains of the
London, Brighton, and South
Coast Railway.
This road has u great many
branches, and a groat many trains
run over it every day, but Jack
knew the time-table i)eri'ectly, and
never troubled tlie ticket agents by
asking them, " llovv can I go to
a plao
u
such and such
"When does the m-xt train start
He took lodgings in a waste-paper
basket in the station-house at
liowes station, and wherever he
went he never tailed to catch
the last train from Iki'jrliton to
Lewes
It was al livst believed that
.lack travelled in connection with
some private business ot his own ;
tliat he was, tor exataple, engaced
ill organizing a " United Terriers'
Society for the Destruction ol
Rats," or was an agent for some
"Co-operative lione Store," that
proposed to supply doss with the
best quality of bones at less than
ordinary prices. It was soon
louiid, however, that he was en-
gaged in inspecting the railway,
Wliile on the train he sat close
to the window, and carefully
watched to see if there we.e any
signs that the embankments at
the side ol the track were out of
order, or that the bridges needed
repairs. He would stop at a
station, and inspect the switches
and tlie signals, and would tlien
take the next traia Ibr some other
sti.lion, where he would insjiect
the eating-room and test the
quality of the Ibod. It was thus
very evident tliat he had ap-
jiointed himself lnsi)ector of the
Loiulon, Brighton, and South
Coast Railway, and every one
connected with the comi)any re-
<oirnized him as a faithful and
elliij.'nt oflicer.
One day a lady presented him
with a collar with the inscription,
" I am Jack, the London, Brighton,
and South Coast Railway dog.
Please give me a drink ol water.
This collar was presented by Mrs.
J. P. Knight, Brockley." Jack
seemed to feel that in gratitude
for this present he ought to in-
crease his labors. He therefore
made a practice of taking frequent
trips all over England to see if he
could discover anything in the
management of other railways
which he could recommend his
own railway company to copy.
Sometimes he went as far as Scot-
land, and on one occasion when
he visited London, and went to
the Isle of Dogs to see if there
was any good reason for its name,
he lost his way, and was absent
for some weeks.
A few days after he had been
found and brought back to the
railway, one of the men emi)loyed
by the company died, and was
buried at Hastings. On the day
of the funeral, JacK arrived by the
noon train, and went to the
church, wher^) he reverently
listened to the funeral service,
and then followed Jthe coffin to
the grave. He also attended the
funeral of another railway ser-
vant at Lewes, and showed ' that
he felt that the company had
sustained a powerful loss.
A short time ago Jack met with
a serious accident, which very
nearly proved fatal. He was
crossing the track late one even-
ing at one of the stations of
his own railway, when he slipped
and tell just as a traiu rushed by,
crushing one of his fore-legs. He
was carried home to Lewes, where
chloroform was given to him, and
his leg was cut otf close to the
shoulder. There is no doubt that
he was a little careless in crossing
the track when a traiii was ap-
proaching ; but although he had
just returned from attending a
wedding at Berwick, Scotland, it
is admitted by every one that he
was perfectly sober.
Jack bore the loss ol his leg
very well ; but a day or two after-
ward he took ofl' the bandages
while h s nurse was absent from
room, and very nearly bled to
death l)efore he could receive
proper attention. Since then he
has steadily improved, although
his anxiety to return to duty has
made him a little feverish at times.
The fact that no accident has
occurred on the London, Brighton,
and South Coast Itailway since
he was injured has been a great
consolation to him, and he feels
that it is due to the thorough way
in which his work ot inspection
has been done.
Hereafter poor Jack will have
I to limp on three legs, for nobody
has yet invented artihcial legs
for dogs. He will, however, be
able to do his work, and will un-
doubtedly be more careful in
avoiding danger than he was be-
fore the accident. His photograph
' — the one from which the picture
'in this number of Youiif; Ptujitc
was taken — is considered to be
an excellent one, and though it
cannot be called v beautiful pic-
ture, it is the porttiit of an up-
right, faithful, and universally
respected dog. — Harper's Yoimg
People.
A MONKEY TO APPEAR AS
A WITNESS.
A monkey witness is shortly to
appear in a murder trial in an
I ndian court at Sattara. A travel-
ling showman, whose living de-
jiendedon live monkeys and a goat,
was recently murdered near a
village, his troupe being killed
with the exception of one monkey,
which ran up a tree and watched
the assassins bury his master and
his companions When all w^as
quiet the monkey ran off to the
" patel" of the nearest village, and
made him understand by speecheb
and signs that something was
wrong. The "patel" followed
the monkey, which led him to the
place where his master was buried,
and the murder was duly dis-
covered. The monkey is now
kept for the identification of the
assassins, a plan which recalls the
time-honored history of the dog
of Montargis. — London Graphic.
HOW TO SUCCEED.
Bayard Taylor made the follow-
ing remarks respecting the rules
of success, that are worth their
weight in gold to every young
man, as the experience of one
whom all delight to honor : " I
have always reverently accepted
them. First, labor : nothing can
be had for nothing; whatever a
man achieve, he must pay for it,
and no favor of fortune can ab-
solve him from duty. Secondly,
patience and forbearance, which
are simply dependent on the slow
justice of time. Thirdly and
most important, faith ; unless a
man believe in something far
hisher than himself, something
infinitely purer and grander than
he can ever become — unless he
have an instinct of an order be
yond his dreams, of laws beyond
his comprehension, of beauty and
good and justice beside which his
own ideals are dark — he will fall
in every loftier form of ambition,
and ought to fail. — Chur'h and
Hume.
THE LIZARD'S "GLOVES."
My friend " Snow Bunting"
asks if any of you youngsters have
ever seen a lizard's " gloves" float-
uig on the water of ponds or
ditches. She says they 1^ )k very
pretty and have every finger per-
fect, and that (.'ven the wrinkles
in the palms are plainly marked.
they are so delicately thin, how-
ever, that if taken out of the water
they fall together in a shapeless
mass ; but if dipped up carefully
in some of the water, they some-
times keep their shape.
The " gloves" are really the old
outer skin from the paws of the
newt or water-lizard. He has
several new suits a year, and he
tears of his old coat in shreds, but
the " gloves" come away whole.
There must be numbers of these
cast-ofT paw-coverings, but it is
not likely that you will come
across them, my dears, excepting
in the deep woods, on the surfaces
of pools and sluggish streamlets.
— it. Nicholas.
COLORS OF THE SKY.
The explanation of the colors
of the morning and evening skies
is thus stated by Sir John Lub-
bock in his presidential address
before the British Association :
Tyndall has taught us that the
blue of the sky is due to the re-
flection of the blue rays by the
minute particles iloating in the
atmosphere. Now, if from the
^hite light of the sun the blue
rays are thus selected, those which
are transmilied will bo yellow,
orange, and red. Where the dis-
tance is short, the transmitted
light will appear yellowish. But
as the sun sinks toward the
horizon the atmospheric distance
increases, and consequently the
number of the scattering particles.
They weaken in succession the
violet, the indigo, the blue, and
even disturb the proportions of
green. The transmitted light
under such circumstances must
pass from yellow through orange
to red, and thus, ivhile we at noon
are admiring the deep blue of the
sky the same rays, robbed of
their blue, are elsewhere lighting
up the evening sky with all the
glories of sunset.
TWO AND ONE.
Thou hast two ears, and but one
mouth ;
Remember it I pray ;
For much there is that thou must
hear.
And little say.
Thou hast two eyes, and but one
mouth ;
Ponder and reason well ;
Full many things thou art to see,
And few things tell.
Thou hast two hands, and but one
mouth ;
Nature has rightly done;
For she has given two for work,
For eating one.
— From the German of Rur.kerl.
THREE GREAT PHYSICIANS.
Desmoulin, a celebrated French
physician, when on his death-bed,
having called around him the
most distinguished physicians in
Paris, said to them, " Gentlemen,
I leave behind roe three great
physicians." On the visitors urg-
ing Desmoulin to mention the
names of these three great doctors,
each probably expecting to hear
his own name announced, he
briefly added, " The three great
physicians arc water, .exercise,
diet."
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REPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER.'
145
THE BATTLEFIELD."
(fiom Iho Chllitrcn't nimil.)
CHAPTEIl I.
liAMG (IKEO.
"Grog! Greg ! where are ye?
Where's that urchin got to?" was
shouted in a harsh, unwomanly
voice, by a iicrcc-lookiug, grey-
haired woman, who was standing
at the door of a miserable-looking
house iu a wretched court in the
on the boy's face. " It's nice !" he
said Kini|)ly.
" Didn't your mother never kiss
you ?"
'■ Never had no mother," was
the sorrowl'nl reply.
" Oh yes, every one has a
mother," said 51 ay, earnestly.
" No, I never had one, I tell
you; I know I never had," he
said passionately, as if he felt he
had been denied what other chil-
dren had. " But there, " he added.
East-end oi London. It was a subsiding into his usual quiet
dull day in autumn, with a I iting
east wind, which shook ths wo-
man's rags and blew her rough
hair about, and certainly did not
improve her temper.
"Greg !" she shouted again,
"I'll give it you well, if
ye don'tcomo !" Then, after
a ^nomcnt's waiting, she
shut the do<)r angrily, say-
ing — " What a plague other
folks' children be, to be
sure !"
Meanwhile a most miser-
able object was crouched
down on the cold pavement
only just out of tight — a
little, old, pale face, with
tousled hair, and large,
eager, hungry eyes, and a
poor deformed body, which
shrank and quivered as the
woman's voice was heard.
Standing close by was
another child, with curly
hair and a merry lace, thin
and pale enough, but look-
ing as if she knew what
love was, and fueling deep-
ly for the poor deformed
boy.
Botu children remained
(juite silent a lew minutes,
l)ut when they heard the
door bang, the little girl
stooped down and said
softly — "I'oor Greg! well,
you're out of her way for a
bit longer."
The boy's lips quivered:
" She'll beat me awful when
I go in."
" 1 know she will," said
May, with tears in her eyes.
" Why don't you run away,
Greg? I would, if she
beat me' like that."
" You know I can't run,
May," said the child, piti-
fully. " You're pretty;
folks'ud care for you, but,
no one loves me."
Tender-hearted May could not
stand this; she was eleven years
old, a year older than Greg, and
seemed to feel quite motherly to-
wards liim ; she stooped down,
and putting her arms around the
poor, forlorn little cripple, she
kissed his dirty, tear-stained face,
saying LheerfuUy— " Yes, I love
you, Greg ; see, I love you."
Greg never remembered having
a kiss before, though he had olten
played with May in thecourtthat
summer— the first summer she
had been in that neighborhood —
and he looked up quite surprised.
"What's the matter?" asked
May, wondering at the expression
(SH^
patient way, "I suppose every
one can't have 'em, and I was one
that had to go without."
" Well," said May, considerably
there. The hnlf-tipsy men laugh-
ed and madefim of his poor back,
and the little fallow was deeply
sensitive, suffering as much i'lom
their words as ho did from his
grandmother's hard blows.
"What were you doing in the
court, May ?" osked her mother.
"You know I don't like your play-
ing with the rude children about
here."
"No, mother, I know. I
wasn't playing with any one, I
was talking to poor Greg ; his
grandmother was scolding and
shouting to him, and he was hid-
ing away,"
" Toor little fellow I" said Mrs.
HE LIVES UP IN HEAVEN, AND HER KINUEK I'QINTED UPWARD.
mystihed, " I always thought
every one had. Never mind,
Greg, I love you."
Presently a voice was heard
calling out of an upper window —
" May ! May Langborne ! are you
there !
" Yes, mother, ' answered May's
clear voice, as she ran hastily in,
leaving poor Greg alone in the
cold wind and growing darkness,
lie did not stir. The poor little
deformed body suffered a great
deal of pain, and every movement
was a dilllculty. He knew that if
he went indoors he should be sent
out for gin to the public-house at
the corner, and he dreaded going
Langborne, " my heart aches for
him," and she sighed; " he has a
hard time of it."
" And, mother," said May, still
very puzzled "he says he never
had' a mother ; he says some folks
have to go without. I thought
everybody had a mother."
" So they have, love," said Mrs.
Langborne, with a sad smile.
" I expect Greg's mother died
when he was a baby, and he does
not remember her."
" Yes, that must be it," said
M a y, considerably relieved.
" Oh, mother, may I go and tell
him ? I think he'd be glad to
know he had a mother once. Do,
let mo go." "Well, don't stay
long ; there is awful bad company
in this court, and I don't like you
to hear their talk, it don't do any-
body any good."
" Why did we come here,
mollier? it isn't half so nice as
where we was." Then seeing
the tears in her mother's eyes, she
added, " Is it, cause of father ?"
Mrs. Langborne could not an-
swer her little girl. She had had
a happy home once, but her hus-
band had taken to drink, and they
had been brought lower and
lower, till at last they had reached
that wretched court, not inappro-
priately called " The Battleheld."
_ Ah ! many a battle has
been fought down there —
the battle with poverty and
dirt and wretchedness, the
battle with sin and Satan.
Most of the inhabitants
yielded to the enemy, but
even in that court God had
His own witnesses, who
were lighting on the win-
ning side. Among them
was Mrs. Langborne. She
found it hard work, lor all
her eflorts seemed useless
to will her husband from
what was degrading him.
Sho was often cast down,
but she generally managed
to keep it from her little
daughter, and only show
her the bright side.
She soon dried her tears,
and giving May a kiss she
cut a slice of bread frora
the loaf she had just brought
home, and saying, " There,
give that to Greg — I dare
say he does not get much
to eat, the poor child often
looks almost starved," she
put it into May's hand, who
looked up with a beaming
"Thank you, mother, I'll
tell him you sent it."
The happy child v\as
soon downstairs in the court
once more. She ran over
to Greg, saying softly —
" Greg, Greg, here's a bit of
bread for you ; and do you
know you had a mother
once ?" and the child's
eyes danced as if she were
telling him a bit of rare
good fortune.
" No, I tell you, I never
had," was the slow and
sorrowful answer in a
muffled tone, on account of his
mouth being full of bread.
"But mother says you had,"
persisted May. " She says every,
body has a mother; but your
mother must have died when you
was quite little, and you don't re-
member her."
This was a now idea to Greg,
and a light dawned on his face as
he said slowly, "Then I had a
mother like other children !"
"Of course you had," returned
May, with assurance.
"Then where is she now ?
" If she loved Jesus, she's gone
to be with Ilim."
"Where does He live ?"
I
fone I
4
It
140
REPKINTKI) STORIES. FROM THK " NORTH KHN MKSSKNOER."
" Oh, don't you know?" asked
May, opi'niiia; her blue i>yp8,
" Why, Ho lives up in heaven,"
anil her fiuser pointed upward.
Gresj's eyes Ibliowed the direc-
tion of her linger, and saw the
briffht Ktars peopinf» out of the
dark sky, quiet witnesses of Him
who raado them. "Up there!
why didn't she take me too ?''
" Well, I suppose she couldn't,"
returned May.
" It must be nicer than here,
said Oreg, still keeping his face
up to the sky— "so prott" with
all them bright spots !"
" Course it's nicer there," said
May. " Shall I tell you what my
hymn says ? —
" ' Tbtn U • h>ppj lud,
Pftr, far awA} I
Whm ulBta Id glory itaai),
Bright, btliht u dky-
Ok, how th*7 iWMilj tliK,
Woithf ti onr tisTloat Klag I
Ijoud l«t III! prkUn rtsg,
PniM, pniia far •;• ! ' "
"Say it again," said Greg, as
May paused.
And there in the dreary court,
in the starlight, May repeated
her hymn.
" And my mother's there," said
Greg softly.
" Yes," said May, with a child's
assurance, " and you'll go to her
oae day."
"Shall I ?" exclaimed Greg, in
a tone of joy such as never before
came from that crippled form,
" shall I, May ? When ? Why
didn't you tell me before ?"
" I don't know why I didn't
tell you," said May, taking the
last question first, " I wish I had
but, you see, I haven't known
you very long. And 1 don't know
when yon are going, Greg. Some
day, when God says so. But I
must go to mother. Good-night,
1 hope your granny won't beat
you much."
"Good-night," returned Greg
" it won't matter if she does. I've
got a mother now, and she's in the
happy land, and I'm going to
her ! "
May ran in, and Greg was
again left alone. Yet he hardly
felt the same forlorn child he had
been an hour ago. He had a
mother now ! Yes, he accepted
the assurance of that with all con-
fidence. He was not so lonely,
and uncared for, and unwelcoraed
as he had always thought ; u
mother had loved him once, and
would again ! May said so, and
she seemed to know. Who was
Jesus, who had taken his mother
away, he wondered ! And how
could He live up there among
those bright stars ? Oh, how
many questions ho wanted to ask!
Then he repeated over and over
again the only lines he could re-
member of May'.s hymn —
' Thert li a bappy land.
Far, far away."
" Yes, it must be f.ir away from
here," ho thought, as he listened
to the noi.so and screams and
oaths that were continu.illy
boundiiiif around him, and looked
up from his dark, cold corner to I ho knew the true sonrco of
the pure gentle stars that were joy, and though he was often
shining so peacefully so far inpainand weakness, yet he be-
away.
After a while he fell asleep.
IIow long he slept he did not
know, but ho awoko at last with
a start from a sudden kick and a
volley of oaths, as ii man came
tumbling over him. Greg man-
aged to creep away in the dark-
lieved Oo<r.s word that " All
things work together for good to
them that love God." His wife
was a very reserved woman,
neve.' speaking to her neighbors
if f'he could avoid it; and as Isaac
could not get about, they were al-
most as much alone, and knew as
ness a.'! the man was throwing little of their neighbors, as if they
his arms about in the vain en-, lived on a desert island,
deavor to punish the child who But one day Greg's granny had
had been the cause of his fall. | been unusually cioss, even for
He was wide awake now, and , her ; she had beaten him, and
knew that It was late, that the turned him out into the wet court
public-houses were closing, and | —for it was pourjng with rain--
that some drunken man had | telling him that she could not
stumbled over him. He crept] think what cripples were allowed
softly up the stairs to the room he , to live for, and she heartily wish-
,.»11a,i •• home," listening outside ed he were out of the world. The
called
the door to find out, if possible,
what sort of a temper his grand'
mother was in. Hearinfi; no
sound, he opened the door canti-
ously, to see the old woman asleep
in a chair, a bottle and a glass
close beside her, and a few warm
cinders dying out in the grate.
He made his way to them on tip-
toe, and warmed his cold hands
and feet as well as he could ; then
creeping under the rags which
formed his bed, he was soon
soundly asleep, dreaming of the
happy land so far, far away.
Chapter II.
OLD ISAAC.
"The Battlefield," as Field's
Court was commonly called in
that neighborhood, from the pub-
lic-house at the corner which Dore
that unusual name, was a curious-
ly-shaped place. At the first
part — the part where Greg and
May lived— the houses were re-
gularly built opposite each other,
but at the other end the court
turned round as if it were guiug
to lead you somewhere, and when
you got there you found one
little house in a corner, smaller
than the rest, and if possible
darker ; a high brick wall being
built opposite, whicn shut off
much of the daylight. There
was no thoroughfare, and it
seemed as if the house had been
an after-thought of the builder's
— as if he had felt that there were
so manj' people in London to be
accommodated, that wherever
there was even a small vacant
spot, there he must contrive to
build a house. At any rate, there
it was, with " No 11" faintly
painted on the door.
This house held three families,
in the lowest room lived old Isaac
and his wile ; they had lived
there many years. "When he
was well and strong ho had earn-
ed good wages at a saddler's shop
in the main road, not '■-r off ; but
a sad accident had laid him low,
and he had not been able to walk
since, llis employers, however,
still gave him odds and ends of
work which he could do at his
own house ; his wife taking the
work ba(-kwards and forwards.
poor little lad's heart was nearly
broken, and in endeavoring tu
find a corner to hide quite out of
ffranny's reach, he discovered the
bend in the court near Isaac's
house, and sat down on the step
crying as if his heart would break.
"What's that noise, wife?"
asked Isaac, looking up from his
work ; " it sounds like a child
crying. Do open the door and
see."
She did as he wished without
a word, and Isaac raised his voice
a little: " What are you doing
there ?"
Greg jumped up, and would
have shuiUed away, but the voice
sounded kind, and he looked in.
" Come in, come in !" said
Isaac. "I'm very fond of little
boys, and I'd like to have a talk
with you."
So Qreg stepped in, thinking
too what a nice shelter it was
from his granny.
"Well," said Isaac, with true
delicacy not noticing the child's
deformity — " I am glad to hare a
visitor. You see I can't walk at
all.
" Can't you ? " said Qreg, with
great interest; "don't you never
go out at all? Shan't you never
walk any more?"
" I shan't walk any more on
earth, but in the happy land I
shall walk again."
"Shall you?" asked Greg,
brightening up. " Are you going
there ■?"
" Yes, sure ; do you know any-
thing about it ?,'
" I've got a mother in the
happy land, and I'm going to
her, " replied Oreg, with a nod.
"God bless you, my boy," said
aac, with deepening interest," I
didn't know any one in this court
thought of these things. Who
told you about it ?'
" May told me.''
"Who's May?"
"Why,^ May, what lives just
opposite," said Greg, as if he
thought every one ought to know
her.
" Dear me, I wish I could get
about. Wilt you bring May to
see me some Uay » I should like
to see her. And Isaac pushed
ful, ns if he was considering
whether he ought not, to have
sought the welfare of those about
him in some way, instead of shut-
ting himself up so much aloinv
" Lord," ho whispered softly,
" Thou hast sent this lamb of
Thine here to show me what
work I might do .for Thee, even
in my helpless state. Lord, I
thank Thee for this. Help mo to
teach this lamb the way to the
happy land." Isaac's eyes were
shut and his hands clasped, but
his face was upward.
Greg watched him gravely,
and looked up to the ceiling of
the little room to see what made
the old man's face so bright,
When Isaac opened his eyes
again, and turned with a smile to
the child, Greg asked gravely,
" Who was yon talking to ?"
" Why, to the bWssed Lord
Jesus, to be snre,"
" Him as took my mother
away ? "
" Yes, child ; don't tou know
anything about Him ?
Greg shook his head. " ■
" Dear, dear me, how sad ! The
Lord Jesus loves you, my boy,
and wants to ruuke yon His
happy child. Will you love
Him?"
"Yes," said Greg, earnestly,
his heart at once going out to
any one who loved him.
" Where's your father ? Isn't
he living?"
" Don't know," said Greg, as if
surprised at the qnestion
" Who do you live with ?"
" Why, with granny, at No. 2."
" What's is granny's name ?"
" Some calls her ' Old Moll,
and some says ' Mrs. Jacksoti', ' '
replied the boy, gravely.
" Well, come and see me again
when you can, and bring May
with you— I'd like to see her."
So Greg went out again into
the rain and cold. He noticed a
group of children at play on the
corner, evidently enjoying them-
selves, in spite of the wet weather.
Ho hurried past them as quickly
as he could go, but not before one
curly-headed child had caught
sight of him, and shouted out —
"Hunchback Greg!" The pain-
ed look came over his face again,
and as others took up the cry, the
tears came info his eyes. He
hastened on, and as he passed by
No. 2 his granny appeared at the
door.
( To be cuntinued.)
The Modern City minister is
chargeable with unfaithfulness to
the word of God. While he is
reading his pretty little sermon
from gilt-edge, sweet-scented
note-paper, in soft and dulcet
tones to the select few, in tha
pleasant church, the masses are
rushing headlong to ruin and
carrying our country and its in-
stitutions with them.— Selected.
m^
, , ,. . IfYou would create something,
Isuac was a happy okl man ; | up his spectacles, looking thought- 1 you must bo something.— 6'oeMe
_ ^^1^
2k
y^^^yj"
REl'HINTKI) STOUIKS. FROM THE "NOHTHKIIN MKSSKNGER."
«H9
147
i
"THK lUTTLKFIULD."
(from lln Chililmi'a I'riciiil)
CllAl'TKll II.- (■.„,(,„,„./.
"Oh, thori! you arc! Niffh at
hand lor ouct< ! lloro, tako tliis
jui? and money, and fetrh me
three-pen'orth of f^in. If yer
don't hurrv, you'll catch it.
mind !" and she ifavc him a smart
slap on the shoulder to hnstcn
his movomt'Hfs. liut th(> pave-
ment was slippery, and Orcir,
never very firm on his legs, went
suddenly down, smashing the jug
to atoms.
" Yer young varmint ! " said
the woman, almost hosido herself
with anger, dealing out
blows on the shrinking form.
" I'll teach yer to break my
jugs, I will."
" What's the matter,
Moll ?" shouted a voice from
the next door; " has the brat
broken yer jug?"
"Yes. all to bits," said the
angry woman, pausing a
moment to detail har griev-
nnces, while Greg shrank
away as fast as he could.
" Was yer going to have a
drink? Never mind, come
and get it there," said her
neighbor, pointing with her
thumb to the public-house
at the corner. And the two
slatternly women crossed the
road to the place, where they
grew more quarrelsome, more
dirty, and more unwomanly.
Meanwhile Grog, sobbing
with pain and trouble, drag-
ged himself to his accustom-
ed corner, where he was in
some measure out of the
rain, and sat down to bear
his sorrows as best he might.
Poor little lonely soul, only
the same age wticn children
in happier circumstances are
cared for and loved and look-
ed after in every possible
way, he was left to bear
heavy trials and sufferings
all alone. By-and-by he saw
May stepping across the
conrt wrapped in an old
shawl of her mother's, and
carefully avoiding all the
pools left in Ihe broken pave-
ment. She did not see him,
and he felt too miserable to
call her, and only watched
her with wistful eyes. But
the sigh- of May awoke other
thoughts, and his heart grew
warmer as he remembered that
Jesus loved him, and one day
\vould take him to the happy
land, to be with Jesus and
mother ; that would be nice, he
thought, and he wished ho might
go just then out of that wretched
court to join them. Hut when he
looked up there were no stars !
And he cried to think that even
that land might be spoilt.
Presently May passed again,
and hearing sobs, she came up to
the child,asking kindly—" What's
the matter, Greg ?" "^
"The hiippy land's gone ! " said
the child, with tear-stained face.
" (111 no," she said cheerfully —
• it never ifoes."
'• liut it has, SCO ! " and ho point-
ed upward.
May, with a child's quick in-
stinct, oiUL'ht his moaning as she
looked uj) and saw the eloudy
skies.
It's all right, Greg, the happy
liind ain't gone ; the rain never
comes near it, mother says."
■' Hut we can't see it," said
(rroir, only half comforted.
• No, liut it's there all the
same," returned May, confident-
ly " There, don't cry no more, it
will be all riirht."
Greg was only half convinced,
but he says they ain't no
He can't move hisself a
walk in the happy
ones
UNO.
bit."
" He'll
land."
'• YoH, ho said so ; and he
wants you to go and talk about it.
will vor ?"
■' Well," said May, demurely,
■ I'll ask mother, 'cause, ye see,
she's particular where I goes.
But there. I mustn't stop, I've to
fetch a ha'porth of milk. Don't
cry any more. Grog,"
The boy was getting stilf from
sitting so long, so hu ifot up and
followed May out into the street.
It was still raining fast, hut he I
"I'll te.\ch ybb to break my joos, i will
but after a moment's silence ho
said — • I've been to see an old
man what can't walk, and he says
I must go again, and you an' all."
"Me ! " said May— 'what for?"
" 'Cause he's going to the
happy land, and he wants to see
you afore ho goes."
" Where does he live C asked
May. wondering.
" Uound the corner, there,"
said Greg, pointing with a dirty
hand in the directiop. of the
upper part of the court.
" Hasn't he got no legs ?" ask-
ed May, remembering that he
could not walk.
"Oh yos, he has lejts— lonff
•ft^
was nearly wet through, and a
little more rain would not make
him much worse. He saw May go
into the milkshop, and got a
bright smile and nod from her as
ho passed the door. Down to the
corner he walked, where the old
apple-woman kept her stall, sum-
mer and winter. Greg had never
had any money to buy any of her
bright fruit, out he had often
looked at her stall from a distance,
and wished he could havo a
halfpenny of his own to spend.
To-day she had got a few small
oranges as well as apples, and
Greg placed himself on a door-
step not far off to watch her. She
y
had an old umbrella over her
stall to keep her fruit dry, and
she drew her large shawl round
her as if she felt the cold; but hot
lace was cheery and pleasant, and
she had a lively word and brighr
smile for each ol'li.r customers.
Presently, to his great surprise,
(ireg found that the apple-
woman was beckoning to him.
Chapter III.
A KIND HEART.
" Come here, honey — how wet
you be, to be sure ! And what'll
your name be ?"
•Greg," said the child, gravely.
"And that'll bea nice short name
to remember. Well, Greg,
my boy, creep under my
shawl and have a bit o' my
supper, Dnd maybe ye'U get
warmer."
Biddy, as the apple-woman
was usually called, had kept
a stall at that corner for years ;
she was now an elderly wo-
man, and although very
ignorant, was always kind
and good-natured. She had
never married, for, as she
said in her quaint way, she
had enough to do to look
after herself, without look-
ing after a husband too ; for
Biddy did not seem to under-
stand that it is a husband's
place to look after his wife ;
perhaps she had seen too
many cases to the contrary.
Anyway, she had a very
warm spot in her heart for
children ; she dearly loved
them, and the more loveless
and forlorn they looked, the
more her heart seemed to go
out to them, so that she
warmed to Greg at once.
Though Biddy had kept her
stall so long at the corner,
she and Greg had never
spoken before ; for though he
had seen and admired her
stall from a distance, it was
not often he ventured so far.
' Ahone ! but how wet
ye be, my darlint! an' what'll
the tears be in your eyes
for V and she softly stroked
Greer's head.
" You're very good," said
Greg, gratefully ; " are you
going to the happy land
too ?"
'• An' what land'U that be, I
wonder ? It'll be far enough
away from here, no doubt "
But before Greg could say
more, he heard his granny's voice
close by and shrank closer under
the friendly shelter of the ample
shawl. Biddy seemed to under-
stand why it was; and vhcn the
old woman stopped at the corner
of the road and asked her sharply,
" Ha' ye seen a lame brat about
here ?" she answered quickly,
" An' never a brat have 1 seen, at
all, at all."
" Yer uses yer eyes precious
little, then," returned Granny,
scoffingly.
" An' a good thing, too. in a
world like this," returned Biddv
liddv 9
Tl
REPHINTKl) STOIMK< ^'^•n\r THE "NORTHE"M
MESSENfJEK
on 111
quk'kly ; "lt> host tn shut your winds in hii* iiiuni nook, ho saw hearty " t'onic in'" (Jrop
eyi's to thi! hml, sun-." ' May cominK out. She looked fad, not n'lich the liitch, no Muy opon-
" Bud ! Yos, thcy'ro « pro- mnd then' wns u lyront hhuk murk cd Iho door, iind tliuro HUt liitac
cious l)ad lot art* brntnion ht'r lorhoad ; but shi" oainc aloni" huNy nt work.
nowndayN," said (Iranny, walk- clraiirht up to tho hoy and said, " I'onio in. coini' in," ho said,
injf Imok in irronl wrath. " Now 'tft'ntiy — when he saw hiw vihitors timidly
I'll havft to tr.iini> all thi' way I " You're always in this roruor, Htaiuliiijf at tho door; " I can't
back acf.iin (ircij'll catch itUfreg." move, and my wife iH out. I
when 1 do Jiiid hini '" '• Yes. I'vo (fot to be here, thought yr,u had lorirotten me,
" 'Why did you say you hadn't
seen me ?" asked (hct;, present-
ly, ■when (Iranny was fairly out
of sight
"An' I didii t say so honey.
Little childer shouldn't be called
' brats.' "
Greg did not qneation this, but
he drew closer to the kindly
heart.
" Does your Granny beat
jow, honey ?" asked Biddv,
in a kindly voice, meanwhile
keeping a sharp look-out
after likely cnstomers.
" Yes," returned Greg,
sorrowfully, turning up hi.-i
ragged sleeve — " look there ! '
"Oh, tho cratur ! to give
you a blow like that!' ex-
claimed Biddy, indignantly,
as she saw a lo:;g black
mark on the little bony arm.
' An' it's she doesn't desarve
to have a child near her.
You come to me, my darlini,
whenever she boats ye, an'
I'll take care o' ye."
Greg looked up gratefully,
and ate tho bread she offered
him.
•' Hero; take a drink o' thi.s,
'twill do yo good," and sli^^
held a jug of tea to his lips
It was Isng since Greg
had been so kindly treated.
Isaac was kind, to be sure,
but ho had not fed and com-
forted the hungry, aching
child like Biddy ; and though
May was always sympathiz-
ing, she could not heij) aii<l
defend him as the apple-
woman did. No, from thai
day Greg always counted
Biddy as his best friend,
lie remained hi<ldeii witli
her till she began to pack up
her things for the night, and
then he sorrowfully returned
to the dreary court.
It was some time before
Greg Wi'Ut to see old Isaac
again ; ho longed to have
another talk al>«ut the
happy land, but he did not
like to go without May, as
Isaac had especially asked
her. May had not been about
the court for some days ; tho last
time Greg caught sight of her
at the window she had a bandage
tied round her ho^d, aud she
looked very sorrowful. Greg
guessed that her father had been
striking her in some drunken fit.
Ho had often watched the man
stumbling home, and heard his
angry words and loud voice ; and
he grieved in a iiuict way that
May, too, should know the sor-
rows of a drunken home. But
one day when the sun was shin-
ing, and Greg was enjoying its
warmth, sheltered from the cold
Isaac slowly shook his head,
watching the faces of the chihiren
l>elore him, and thinking with
grief of the sadness that sin had
brought into their lives. Then
rouhiiig himself, ho asked, "What
did you rend to-day.
" Why. mother read such a
beautiful bit! 'Twas nil .ibout
Granny goes out every morning, you were so long coming again." singing and being glad — about
and turns mo out „ fore she goes, : "No,' said Greg, "but May the sea making a happy noise,
and locks the door so I've got to couldn't come." and thM leaves rustling in the
bo here." i "(Hi, this is May is it? I'm wind, and tho river rushing along
" Ain't you very cold i" very glad to see her. Has she — and all 'cnuite the Lord wat
" Sometimes. It's nice and had a fall ( What a bad knock King ! 'Twasn't like this 'ere
warm now in the sun." you've got, my child I ' court at all. Hut mother said
" Shall we go and see that li-mo "No, it wasn't a fall — "said that if people would come to the
man?" asked May. "Mother May, slowly, and she stopped. dear Saviour, all the world might
be like that — all bright, and
happy, and good, and ring-
ing. And I know one verse
■ aid something t b o u t
'Tictory,' because mother
said, ' Ah child, our court's
called "The Battlefield," and
it is just a part of the great
battleKeld ; bnt.dear me.most
ofthe battle* are lost here be-
cause they don't know that
the Lord has got the victory."
She taid something like
that," said May, in her old-
fashioned way, " and I wish
the victory was come, 'cause
'twould all be so nice then."
Isaac smiled. " It'll come,
child, it'll come. Yes,
there'll be a grand victory
one day ! Your mother was
right, this is part of the great
battlefield ; she's got a hard
fight, I expect, but you tell
her she's sure to win, be-
cause she's on the right side
she'll win. sure enough."
May smiled, pleased that
Isaac thought her mother all
right, but not understanding
his meaning. Greg had
sunk down on the floor in a
crouching position ; he never
could bear to stand long, for
his back gave him so much
pain; but his bright eye.-^
were wide open listening
eagerly to the conversation.
" When'U the victory
come ? " he asked at last, with
his head bent eagerly for-
ward.
" I don't know, my boy .
Every fresh ono who comes
to the Lord Jesus makes it a
bit more likely, and every
little victory gained over sin
brings the great triumph
nearer."
" But what have wo to fight ? "
asked Greg. "Qrauny fights
sometimes, must I fight her :'
I'm over little to do any good."
OREO, MY BOV. CUKEP UNDER MY SHAWIj AM) TKSTE A BIT o' MY SUPPER
for I says I can go now."
I •' Yes,' said Greg, eagerly, ris-
;ing with diiKculty — "and hear
about the happy land."
" I wish wo could go there,
Greg," .said May wistfully.
'■ We're goin' some day ain't
wo r
They walked up the court,
turning round to Isaac's corner.
When they got there Greg's
courage failed him.
" You knock. May," he said.
" No ; you've been before, it's
you to go first," replied May,
drawing Dack.
So Greg gave a timid knock,
which was responded to with a
Isaac, piti-
yon'vo a
" I see, I see,'' said
fully — " poor lambs
deal to bear. But the blessed
Lord knows all about you, and
He cares for you. Do you know
about Him '?"
" Yes," said May, a soft light
coming into her eyes ; " He is the
dear Saviour who died for us,
and is going to take us to the
hapi)y land one day."
" God bless you, child. Who
told you about Him?"
" Mother told mo ; she talks
about Him every day, and she
reads about the happy land, and
wo sing sometimes when father's
out," said May, innocently.
{Tu be i:untinu€(l.)
To DO ONE Thi NO poorly and
slowly, for the sake of saving a
little money, at the expense of
another thing we have learned to
do quickly and well, is a mark of
parsimony rather than of real
economy. Tho moft precious
things are time and >pporunity ^
for good. — SuHdasi-Scho)il World. X
chV
|hil(lri>n
with
■ill hiiil
Th..n
l"^Vhm
RKl'RINTKI) STOKIKS, FROM TIIK 'NOUTIIKHN MK.SSKN(;KU.'
nil
:^
'TIIR nATTLKFIKF-D."
(/'rr III l/i« Cliihl rii'i I ikhiI. )
CHAl'TKIl m.-Cmlmuat.
" No, no, my lad, you'ro novcr
to liyht (irniiiiv. Yoii'vi'thn evil
to liiflit — llic Hill ill your hi-nrt;
th.it'ii whiTi- Ihn (ir>t victory
tnust 1)1) giiiiiod. If yoii art) oiii>
of l/io Saviour'H liimlls you must
nover tell lici, or rhcnl, or say
bftd words, or do wroiii^ fhini,'H.
When tho wi^h to do Biu'h thin^i<
comos into your heart you muRt
tight it down, and look u|i to t)ii>
Saviour and ask Him to give you
tho victory "
Orcg listonrd oarnegtly with
grave i'liop, hut h<! did not
•ay snythini?. Pn-Montly
Isaac's wil'o carao in, brini?-
inof her husband fresh work,
and whilo she wan rfpt>ntiii<r
to him tho saddlor's inslruc-
tions the children slippcil
«way.
CUAPTKR IV.
LIOHT IN THE DARKNEHB.
In A small room in a honsn
a few sirccts away from
Field's Conrt, a hnpjiy-faced
woman was leaning over her
husband's shoulder, lookini^
at a map and a li.tt of names.
Tho room was only plainly
furuishud, but there were ono
or two tiri^jhtlyilluminatrd
texts on tho wall and a few
pictu'es. Tho lookout was
on a busy street, with tho
noiso of omnibuses and trams
continually passinir and ri-
pnssiu^lbut a few liower-
pots in tho window, with
somo plants which, though
not in flower, were yet
brijfht Willi fresh, f^reeii
lo-ives. shut ont some of tho
dulness of fill' street. Mr.
and Mrs Goodwin had only
been ft few weeks in thiit
house; ho had not lonp neen
appointed city missionary to
that district, and was look-
inty over the map of the
neiofhhorhood.
While they were still por-
incfover it- the former mis-
sionarv caino in.
" Good morning, Mr
Goodwin; good morninjr,
ma'am. I see you are busy
over tho map."
" Good m o r n 1 n p, Mr.
Hoaley ; I am glad yon have look-
ed Ml. I want to ask you a few
qnoslions about tho district."
Mr. Healey opened his note-
book, and the two missionaries
consulted together for somo time
over tho state of tho locality.
" And now about this court
curiously named 'The Battle-
field' ; I expect it will bo pretty
much of a battlefield for us
there."
"It is a dreadful place," said
Mr. Hoaley, with emphasis— "a
dreadful place, not fit for any
lady to go into."
How comes it by its strange
name ? "
1 nni not very sure, but there | that there may bo victories won
there which will make heuven
IS ft trailitiiiii ihiit a hiitllo wiis
I'lmuh' noun hiiiulri'ds of venr.s
a!;o oil tins spilt, mid ii Held on
which thi) couit wns built hail
troiii timo iiniiii'inoriiii been oiill-
cd ' till' baltlelield,' Hi) F SU[)I)ONe
thero niUht bo soinethiiitf in it.'
" I see you hiive only one iiiiine
down there, iHiiae. Hard acre ; how
is that y Are there no more
families?"
"Oil, dear I yes,* plenty — too
many. Hut they iire so bad no
one can visit them. Isaac is a
good olil m.iii iind always thank-
ful for a visit, but the rest '
an<l Mr Healey held up his hands
ring Willi praises.
!• w;»s in tlie spring that Mi'.
(Goodwill 1 .line III il.al ii''i','liliipr-
hriod. (Ire;,' and ^lay 'Aere Imlli
going on much the same, both
bearing their childhood's griefs
and si)ecial sorrows in 'Iieir usual
<iuiet way. M-»ny a visit had been
paid ti) old Isaac, who was .ilways
pleased to see his young visitors,
and did all he could to teach
them more of tlie Lord he loved.
The winter had been a severe one,
and CfreL' had si>«nt much of his
time with his unfailing friend and
comforter, the apple-woman, who
$ nan
'TIIKKK AIIE THOSE WHO NEED VI.SITINO.
Presently ho took his ' stuck to her post notwithstanding
in horror
leave, aiul after he had gone Mr
and Mrs. (roodwin satfor a while
in silence.
"This dreadful court," said
Mrs. Goodwin at last, " you must
bo careful how you go into it,
husband."
"Tho angel of tho Lord en-
campelh round about them that
fear Him, and delivereth them,"
was his answer, with a smile.
" There arc those who need vi.sit-
ing there; there are wounded
ones on that battlefield, nodoubt.
who need helping and blessing;
and the only way to do them good
is to tp\to the Gospel to them, so
tho rain and snow, and had a
warm welcome at all times for
the pofir little ciippie.
Mr. (jondwiii paid his first
visit to old Itaac, who was de-
lighted to see him, and to find
that an earnest servant of God
was to labor among them.
' There's need enough of work
for God in n court like thi.«, sir,
sure enough ; tho poor souls is
.''laves to sin and Satan, aiul no
one to help 'em. I wish I could
do something, but you see I'm
tied hero and can't move. I
haven't been outside that door for
seven years, and it ain't likely
that folks would come to me.*
" Vi) doubt you worked when
you IiikI the opportunity,' said
.Mr. Giiodwili, pleased In Iind so
iiitelliireiit and earnest a Christian
ill such a plai;e.
"Well, you see.hir. I didn't know
iiiucli about tho I.iiird myself till
I was crippled. It's my accident
has been the means of bringin ;
me really to him, so I can thiink
llim for it, though sometimes it
is a sore trouble not »- !)j able to
get about."
" It must be, indeed : but thero
is one thing you can do : yen can
pray for your neighbors, you can
continually boar them np before
tho Lord, and so bring down
blessings upon them of which
they have nover dreamed."
" Yes," returned Isaac,
" sure enough. I do pray
for them, and have done so
this many a year, and I be-
lieve your coming among ns
is tho answer to the prayer.-*.
I wish yon could make one
of your first visits to a man
called Langborne, at No. 6,
jpslairs. His wife is « good
woman, and I believe his
little girl is one of tho
Saviour's lambs — she comes
to see me sometimes — but
Langborne is breaking their
hearts. Ho drinks dreadful,
and beats both his wife and
child ; but as May told mo
one day, ' wo sings of tho
happy land, and wishes wo
was there !' "
" Poor things !"" said Mr.
Goodwin, compassionately,
" I will certainly visit them
as soon as I can ; but you see
I havo a largo district, and
there are many other courts
too." Then, after making
one or two notes in his
pocket-book, and joining
Isaac ii. pr lyer. he left the
house.
It was up-hill work. Mr.
and Mrs. Goodwin often said
that it was a real battlefield
to them, tliero was so much
to discourage, and try, and
dishearten Tho people re-
senteil their visits, did not
want to bo looked after, and
said openly that they did not
care to bo interfered with.
But tho missionaries gained
the victory through Him
who loved them, and did all
they could to help the poor lost
ones. Langborno was happily
more easily reached than they
feared ; ho was greatly taken
with Mr. Goodwin's hearty, man-
ly way ; and before many months
were over, he signed tho temper-
ance pledge, and joined a Bible-
class that Mr. Goodwin had be-
gun on Wednesday evenings.
Tho day after tho pledge was
taken. May came out to Greg in
tho conrt, her face all smiles and
tears.
"What's tho matter?' asked
Greg, curiously.
" Oh, such good news ! Father s
turned teetotal, and won't touch
I
I
no mnro drink! Tliiiik <>' ihil,
(Irtij!" mill lln- • !iil<l tfrow I'x-
cit>'(l. ' Moth'T mill nil' hi»^ lici'ii
<r\ iitf n<'iir nil night, we're ho
'■ 1 wdultlii'i iTv il" I wor jfliiJ,"
siiid (Iri'ff.
" Wiiiililu't you ? P'raps you
couldn't hi'lp it if you wuh very,
very ulml. * rrej; Sli vU \V(> ifo iind
tell Isiiac — lie'll l)e MO pleiiKiul ? "
Thoy noon puNhed open the
tloor, lull of Iheir iiewn, whon
they discovered that Isiiao wan
not nlone. Mr. Goodwin wus
thoro reudinj^. The children
were hastily retreating, when
Isaac called — " Ilou't go away;
comp in, come in ' You've como
to tell luo about father, haven't
you. May ! Well, I'm just as i;Ud
08 can be."
" May was so Rlad, she cried,"
aaid (Ire);, as if he could not un-
derstand it, and thou shr.ink
back in a corner as if ashamed of
h8\ing spoken before a stran|[r«"r ;
for it so happened that though
Mr. Goodwin had been working
in the court for some months, be
had never seen Greg bi-lore.
" Well, well, we'll talk about it
presently'' said Isaac. " Mr.
Goodwin was reading me a
beaiiliful story about a blind man,
and I'm sure if you'll .sit still lie'll
beurin the chapter again, and let
you hear the whole story."
The treat was an ununudi one
to Greg, and both he and Miiy
eagerly s<|uatted on the lloorwith
upturned faces to li.steii. It was
the ninth chapter ofSt..rohn, and
the story attracted them : the
poor man who had been a blind
baby, a blind boy, wh" had never
seen the faces ot his father and
mother, never seen God's beauti-
ful sunshine as he sal in its
warmth and begged, who all
Yds life long had been in the dark,
and had never seen anything in
the world. Greg gave a little
shudder as he thonght that that
would be worse than even his
own crooked, painful back. But
then how he listened when he
heard that Jesus cured him, gave
him sight, and that all the man
had to do was simply to wash as
He told him '
" Was he never blind any
more ?" whispered Greg to May,
who was close beside hira I
" Hush ! " said May. " No ;
he's sure to be all right now."
And they listened silently to
the end of the chapter.
" You see,' said Mr. Goodwin,
turning to the children, " the
Lord Jesus not only Lave the
blind man his sight, but He for-
gave him his siii.s : the luau be-
came a true believer on the Son
of God. And tlie same Jesus
who did such a \\ onderful thing
as that, He also I )v s you, dear
children ; He died on the cross lor
you, and He cares for you iu all
your trials.'
" It's a wonderful thing, " said
I Isaac — " a whole chaitliT in Gods
' l5ook taken up v. ith a poor bl.iid
KKIMMNTKI) STORIKS. FROM TFIK
.*< iviour
NorrriiKRN mkssrnger.
bei,'i.Mr, ami llie way thi
savi'il and beal.d liiin. "
j '• All. there will lie many hui h
chaplers III till' liaiiib's book ot
I life — the book thai is writieii ill
heavi'ii," said Mr. Goodwin
!'■ There will be in my a eh i|)t''r
'there, all taken up with the
iSa\iour's inerey an 1 lore to one
poor blind miiiier ; there w .11 be a
whole chapter tor each of us.
What a book il will be ' '
Greg started up.
be a chapter about
me theri' f I
If you are one of the Saviour's
little ones, my boy. your name is
I iiid, aiicl you have a name
Miiinewheii', Mirrt to," o.iid
May, .oiiilorlingly. An<l then a
bn-j-lit tliouiflii cDiiiiiig into IhT
head, hiie aided. "Why, ihe
u'eiitleman said your name was
written 111 heaven, so God knows
what It is; it's all riu'ht, you see."
And Greg was coml'orted. lie
resolved to tell Mr.'* IKxidwin
about it at the next meeting.
' ' Hut Greg did n.it iro in the meet-
Will there iiiir again for a long, long tiia«.
written in lh»t book, and there is
a chapter about you too. The
blessed Lord loves and cares
for all His children, whether they
are young or old. "
Oreg gave an emphatic nod,
his dark eyes looking earnestly
on the missionary's face ; but he
did not speak, and presently sank
back on the floor again till Mr.
Goodwin took his leave.
It was not long aflor this that
Mrs. Goodwin, who had been
greatly touched l>y her husbaftd's
account of the lame boy, opened
a " Band of Hope" for the chil-
dren of the district. At first it
was but thinly attended, and
none of the children from " The
Battlefiuld" could be persuaded
to join except Oreg and May.
Mrs Goodwin conducted the
meeiiiius in a very lively way,
having a good deal of <:heerfnl
singiiiL'. and showing the chil-
dren in simi)le words the great
advantages of total abstinence
and the terrible evils of drink.
She also showed them how much
good they might do if they held
fast to their pledge, and how they
might be the moans of winning
older people to give up the drink,
which was the cause of such un-
told evil.
Greg could neither read nor
write, he had never been taught
anything but evil ; and when he
went up to the table with May,
he was somewhat startled when
Mrs. Goodwin asked, " What is
your name, my boy ?"
'■ Greg," he answered.
" Ah, bat that is a short name ;
what is your prooer name your
surname ?"
" Ain't got none,'' he said,
shortly.
'• t)h, but you must have one ;
does nobody know ?"
" No," said May, " we all calls
hira ' Greg.' "
" Dear me," said Mrs. Goodwin,
" I am afraid I cannot give you a
card to-day, my boy ; but do not
grieve," she added, as Greg be-
gan to cry, " we will try and find
out before the next meeting, and
you shall have a card then."
But Greg was in great trouble.
"I ain't a bit like other folks.
May, ' he said, sobbing, as they
left' the meeting. " I hadn't a
mother, and uow I hain't a
name. "
" Oh, but you have, Oreg.
Why, you know you have a
mother with Jesus in the happy
ClLiPTIR V.
A NEW illiMB.
A day or two after the lait
Band of Hope meeting, as Mr.
and Mrs. Goodwin were sitting
at breakfast, the postman's knock
waNhoard,and Mrs. Goodwin ran
out to receive a letter for her bus-
b.ind.
" From your sister," shes-'id ai
she banded it to him.
Mr. (iuodwin read it through
with a somewhat pazzlt«d face,
and then handing it to his wife,
he said, " There, read il tbroagh
and tell me what to do."
After speaking on familk af-
fairs, the letter went on : " 'We are
much interested in all your work
in that sad neighborhood, and we
wish we could help you. We
hare been thinking lately we
should much like to take some
poor lost child and caro for it.
The Lord has not given us chil-
dren, yet He has given us this
nice farm and plenty of room for
a child to run about ; and wo have
felt strongly lately that perhaps
Ho has some lonely, ill-used,
motherless child for us to bring
up for Him. I want you and
Kate to think over the matter,
and send us down the most un-
h.ippy and uncared-for child in
the district. We do not care
whether it is a boy or girl ; we
leave all the details with yon."
" Well,'' said Mr. Goodwin, as
his wife finished reading the let-
ter, and folded it up with a smile
— " well, what conclusion hare
you come to ?"
" Greg," said Mrs. Oood-"
looking into her husband's fa
*' But he is such a cripple,
such an uncared-for little lad.
'• Then he is just the one yom
sister wants. I believe it would,
be the making of him. It he had
fresh air and good food and caro ,
just now, ho might grow up
much stronger. Poor Tittle fel-
low I I should like to know he
was down in the country ; I am
sure he would repay any one's
care."
" He has won your heart, that is
evident," said Mr.Ooodwin.laugh-
ing ; " and he is a good little fel-
low, I am sure. IsL'ac always
speaks very highly cf h-.n. I
wonder what his grand lother
would say to the plan. I will
call by-and-by, and see what she
says."
Mr. Goodwin had somewhat of
a stormy visit to old Mrs. Jackson.
At first she declared she " didn't
want lite Ind, would be glad to
iret rid of liim ;" but when Mr.
Goodwill expUiii>Ml to her that he
wanted lo like Greg right away
she ut onee deelar.'d she could
not let him go unless a sum u>
money were paid down for (he
loss he would be to her in going
errands. He resolved tn think
the matter over before he decided
to do anything more, and avcord-
ingly rose to go.
" What is the child's real
name ?" he asked.
" Oreg," she said, defiantly,
" But that is a coutrautiou ;
what is his real name T'
'• What's that to you 7" the said,
getting more angry. If ' Greg'
ain't good enough, you can give
him any name you've a mind to."
Whon Mr. Goodwin was tell-
ing his wile about it afterwards,
he said, " I hardly know why,
but I do not think Oreg ir that
woman's grandchild at all. He
has fallen into her hands some-
how, and she seems afraid of tell-
ing his real name."
" Perhaps we shall find out
some time ; we muat keep our
eye on the woman."
At lost, after some consultation,
it was agreed to give the old wo-
man ten shillings, and take Oreg
off at once. " 'Though I am sad-
ly afraid all the money will go iu
gin," said Mr. Goodwm.
At last all was arranged,
had bid May good-bye
mauy tears.
' Tu be runUnued. )
Oreg
with
Thk North China Ih'rald
gives an account of the boy-em-
peror of the Celestial Empire,
who is now eleven years old,
and has been legally of age since
he was six. He is styled Foo
Yeh, or the Buddha Father, and
all who enter his presence pray
to him as to the Deity. Even his
mother, who visits him in state
once a month bows down and
worsh' Inn " is <ittended
by ( iiless seivanis. Where he
. the palace of his ances-
, ueepintr in > great bed
> iiere ■any emp ■» nave slept
who i'^ now di .. He dmes
i/randly. !>ut his servants tell him
when je appears to be over-eat-
ting, :- vour mother does you,
perhaps. His teachers come in
and fall upon their knees, not rip
ing until he bids them. Ever
day he reads the Chinese and
Tartar languages, and rides and
praotises with bow and arrow.
Then his youthful Majesty sits for
two hours on a throne and talks
gorernment affaiia with his M
isters of State.
Make Others to see Christ
in you moving, doing, speak-
ing and thinking ; your actions
will speak of Him, if He be
in you, — Rutherford.
" Shame is the loss of our own
esteem."
«H
«t4»
likd In '
•II Mr.
Ittiitt ho
iiway
c'oiiid
lium (/
llor Ihf
r
KKl'KINTKD
rHI<; lIVTTl.lil'IKLD,'
STOUIKS, KUOM TIIK
li'ur, (lt>ar, you look
NOKTIIKKN MKHSKNOKH,
own Ik
i
{fnm (/.<• CliMui,; hirml.)
• 'IIAI'TKIl v.- <■„„(,■„„„/.
" Will yoii oviT ciiriii' Imck / "
ukfil Miiy.
" I ilmi't know," Niiid (f ri'i{ ; ■' I
Nhoiilil likit to I'liinit liai'k it' 1
hmln't to live with (Iraiiriy : nhi'
htjRt inc vwr HO hihl iiiurhl, 'niuHc
nhw iHiil 1 tlidn'i. uiiuhl to k"
Ijut'it Ko and (uy ((ood-hyit to
Uaac,"
" I'm roal iflivd for you, my
bov," Haid Ihu old mini, " though
I shall mils you it di-iil, hut III
Hue you in thf hapjiy liiiid oini
day." Thfii Bhuttiii|i( hiN oyi^H
and putting hJN hand on
O-rAj^'g hirnd, ho Haid Hol'tlv —
" Lord, I thank Thuo lor Thy
love to this lamb, innko him
altoiyfulhcr Xhin>* i bluHs him,
and make him a bluBsing."
And Ureg camo away with
tears in bis uyos.,
Uiie mori! visit Ho had to
pty— to Biddy, tho apple-
woman.
" An' is it far aw4y you're
foin' I " Hho aaked ; " an' will
never stio vou at all, iit all /
Gh, but I'll miss the sight
o' yer I'dtH' Ht'ro, t a k e
these," and she put a wholu
pennyworth of applco into
his hands.
" Oood-byo," said Greg ;
"thank yt-r for' bein' kind lo
mi'."
" Oo:I bless 7or kindly
soul ; any ono with a heart
at itll would bo kind to yor
Oood-byo," and she leant over
and kisMi'd thu i;rippl>'d boy.
Next morning they started,
Mr. Goodwin going witti the
child ; Jor he did not think it
would be right to let him go
alone, and he wiuhed to see
his sister's iirst impreHvionH
of ais choice. It waH a
long journey, for Mrf.
Thompson lived in a village
not lur troni Worcester, and
they were pretty tired when
they reached the farm. <Jreg
had been very quiet all tho
journey, though evidently
much surprised both at the
mode of travelling and at the
rate they whirled through the
country. Mr. Goodwin fear-
ed the child was suHering a
deal ; his face grew i)aler us
the day wore on, and there
were dark rmgs round his eyes,
but he never complained, He
made the child as comfortable as
he could with a pillow and
shawl which Mrs. Goodwin hud
thoughtfully provided, but tiio
jog of the train tried the i)oor
back very much, ami both
travellers were heartily triad
when the end ot the journey was
reached.
Mr. and Mrs, Thompson came
to tho door to receive their guests
with hearty words and kind looks,
"And is this tho child that is
to bo our boy ?" asked Mrs.
Thompson, after greeting her
brother.
' " Why.
worn out'
Th>' I'hilil rapidly turned paler
and lain led away.
" I ihiiik the Journey has been
loo niiii'h lor him," HaicI Mr.
Hood win, c'ktehing him in bin
aniiH and earryiiiu: him into tlx'
hoUNe ; "ho is not ulronif, l>tit he
will Koon come right iig:iin. I
liopi> I have not brought loo bad
a N| imeii of the unl'orlunali'
children in our alleys."
■' Vol a bil, not a l)il, " said Mr.
Tlioinpsoii, heartily. " Milly will
eiii'iy iiurHing him up, and will be
proud of what she can do '
' He has hud no love uU hislife. Ihrst.'
comfortable than he ha<l ever fell
in hin lil'i-. h<t said feebly with
treinliling Ijpt — " Is ihis llie
hini|>y land !"
>Irii. ThompNon ki»»i'd the
white luce. •■ It tihall be it hiippy
lanu to you, my bov , but il it not
(iiid'K happy land yet— lie wants
you here lirst '
Greg did not niiMWer, only
faintly Niniled, and drank Ihe
riip of warm milk which Mrs.
TlioinpMon olJiTi'd him.
'• You miiHl mind how ynu feed
him, for he hiin had the poorest
living all IiIh life and will not be
able to lake much nouriithment at
ISAACS PRAYER FOR POOR OREO.
From what we can make out, he ' They left the boy on tho sofa,
is an orphan. and his grandmother too weak to move, while they
is mo.'it unkind to him beating went into another room for tea.
the poor child constantly, and • " I hardly know what to do
leaving him to drag himself up about a bath, " said Mrs. Thomp-
as best he can. ' son ; " I don't like to have him in
" Poor dear child," said Mrs. one of our beds till ho has been
Thompson, "we will alter all thoroughly washed — people are
that. Dear me, how thin he is! .so dirty in those courts; but I
See, he is coming around al- fear a bath would be too much
ready." for him in thatweok state. Oh, 1
Mr. Goodwin was sitting on know I wiU wring a blanket out
the other side of the room, where ot hot, soapy water and wrap him
Greg could not see him, and when in Ihat ; it will strengthen and
the child opened his eyes and cleanse him at the same time."
saw only a kind motherly face Accordingly, as soon bs tea was
leaning over him, and felt he was over, Greg was carried upstairs,
lying on something more .soft and undressed and put into the
blanket, eointortably covered up
and lelt to Miak lor a whTle. Mro.
Tlioinptoii exiiinined his doihix
;iliil deeidril that they milht be
burnt. In Ihe poekel of his uii-
deri'oiil Nhi> louiid a biuall, old
I'ocket-book
" Is this yours, my boy t"
" YeH, (irniiny gave it me tliis
morning; «he said I might have
it."
" Oh, that is all right. Lie
still, I will come to you again
by-und-liv. '
" It's so nice," said Greg, grate-
fully.
Mrs Thompson went down-
st.iirs to her husband and brother.
" What is the child's name ?"
she asked.
"Well, it is a carious
thing that we cannot find hia
name ; he always goes by the
name of ' Greg,' but what
that means I don't know— it
may be a contraction of some
name. You will have to give
him a new name."
" I hare had to burn most
of his underclothes ; they
were in such a shocking state
of dirt I conid not keep them
in the house an hour ; and as
to the pocket-book his grand-
mother gave to him, I think
it ought to share the same
fate."
" A pocket book !" said Mr.
Goodwin — "oh, let me see it;
it may gire som;i clue to his
parentage."
Mrs. Thompson according-
ly went up for it, and found
the boy latt asleep, soothed
and comforted. She took up
the pocket-book and came
down again. Mr. Goodwin
opened it. It was empty —
no leaves in it, and the
pockets had nothing in them.
" Not much to DO found
there," said Mr. Thompson.
" T fear not, ' replied Mr.
Goodwin, turning it over.
" Stay I here is some writing
on the cover," and he held it
nearer the window:
" Gregory .' the next
letter looks like D, but tho
word has been scratched out
I can't read it"
" That must be Greg's
name," exclaimed Mrs.
Thompson.
"Yes, I suppose it roust bo
so; this book no doubt be-
longed to his father. I wonder
how tho old woman got hold ol
it. I do not fancy she is really
his grandmother, but I have no
prools. 1 will keep my eye on
her, and do what I can to find out
the truth. Anyway, whatever
his parentage may be, it is a great
blessing to tho poor boy to be
with you, and tho Lord will re-
ward you."
Chapter VI. —
QROWl.NO STRONQEB.
Mr. Goodwin was obliged to
leave next day for London ; he
could not spare any more time
UP. ' f
•H^
i^H9
▼ 152
REPRINTED STORIES, B^ROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
lust then from his work, bat he
promised to come down with his
wife when he could jjet aholidny.
He saw (ireg just before he start-
ed, propped up iu bed, looiviug
pale, but happy, and eating some
lireakfast ■•vith evident enjoy-
ment.
"Uood-bye, (Jroc;," he said;
" try all you can to get well, and
be sure to be a good boy. I will
give your love to May and Isaac
—shall I ?"
" Yes, and to Biddy."
" Who is Biddy ? I don't know
her."
" Yes, yei does ; her what
keeps the apple-stall just at the
corner. She's good to me."
" Is she ? Yes, I know
her now. I'll tell her what
you say ; good-bye."
Whatever thoughts Greg
maf hare had about the
court he had ali^'ays lived iu,
ho was far too happy and
comfortable now to have any
wish to go back ; besides, he
was not accustomed to be
consulted or to have any of
of his wishes thought of, and
It did not seem to occur to
liim that he was left among
slrangers. He was lying
back on his pillow as if he
found it very pleasant, when
Mrs Thompson came back
into the room after seeing
tier brother off. She sat
down beside him for r.whilo
II n d talked soothingly to
him ; tnen she once more
wrapped him in the hot
damp blanket, meanwhile
busying herself in preparing
clean, fresh clothes for him.
By-and-l)y he was dressed iu
his ne'v clothes, and his hair
carefully washed and
brushed.
' Ain't it nice I" he said,
gratefully, feeling already the
comfort of cleanliness, to
which he had long been a
stranger,
" Can you walk down-
stairs ?" asked Mrs. Thomp-
son.
'• Oh yes," said Greg, " I
can walk;" and he hobbled
across the room, going so
^lowly and painfully down
the stairs that Mrs. Thomp-
son's heart ached for him.
" Now lie down here," she
said opening the door into a
pleasant sitting-room, where a fire
was burning brightly, for it was
getting late in the autumn, and
the mornings and evenings were
chilly. " Come and lie down
here," she repeated, shaking up
the pillows of a very cosy looking
sofa, " I am not going to let you
walk about much till you are
stronrrer."
" I never did walk much." said
Grejr.
" What did you do all day ?'
Why, Graniy went out to
wa-^h, and she turned me intoth
" Why a little corner again two
houses ; it wor nice for my back —
not like this, though" — and the
boy smiled— "but it worn't a bad
place. I didn't get so very wet
there when it rained, only a few
drops, and it were nice and warm
when the sun shined. Some-
times I went to Biddy ; that wor
nice, only it hurt me to walk so
far."
" How did you get anything to
eat all day ?"
'• Oh, Granny'd give me a
i.huuk o' bread in the morning.
Sometimes she'd give me a
ha'penny for dinner, and I'd buy
a bit o'puddiu' or a slice o'fish."
me an apple or a sup o' tea."
" But were you not often hun-
gry f
'• Oh yes," said Greg, quietly,
as if that was quite a usual experi.
ence.
Presently Mr. Thompson came
in from the farm yard : " Why, is
this the little bo. who came last
night ? Well, you do look ditier-
ent to-day !"
" Yes," said Oreg, gravely,
" I've been washed."
Mr. Thompson langhed. "Is
that a new thing to you ? When
were you washed last?"
"Mrs. Goodwin washed my
hands and face afore
POOS OREO ANP KIND MRS. THOMPSON.
' How did you cook it ?" asked
Mrs. Thompson, wondering how
the boy got on at all with such
food.
"Oh 'twas all reauy cooked —
why, am't you seen them shops
all full of fish ready cooked? Oh,
don't they smell good I and they
had puddin's too, and sarsages,
and such-like. iJul 1 didn't often
have any of 'em, only now end
then, when (iranny .vorn't cross."
" Was she often cross?"
Greg gave a decisive nod :
but sh
Nigh every day, l>ut she wor
:ourt, and I .sat in my corner besi worse some days. Sometimes
l>,irt ofthe day. " i May would give me a bite,
•' What was your corner?" 'and sometimes Ciddy'd give
away, but 1 wor never washed
all over,"
" Dear, dear !" said Mrs.
Thompson, " I wonder you over
lived at all. Gieg."
"Well, I expect I had to," he
returned, gravely,
'■ And you have to get well
now," said Mr. Thompson. " !
shall want you to help me on the
farm, and arms like those cannot
do much,"
" I'll do what I can, mister,"
caid (he boy, raising himself up ;
■ but I ain't good for much."
"You're a willing boy that's half
the battle ; but you are not to g-t
says you may : you must ge:
strong before you can work,"
A fortnight more at the farm
worked wonders for Greg, Mrs,
Thompson was a great believer
in her hot damp blanket ; she
wrapped the boy in it for an hour
every morning, and, however it
might have suited other people, it
certainly did Cireg good. The
nourishing food and fresh air, too,
gave him strength, and though
he was still feeble, he did not
look like the same child who was
carried into the houae in a faint.
The doctor had been called in to
see him, and after a careful ex-
I come amination he gave his opinion
that if the boy had good food
and fresh air, and was allow-
ed to lie down a good deal
lor some monthB, he might
yet have very fair health,
iind might not even be >o
very mnch deformed, Mrs.
Thompson was thankful to
hear this, for her heart be-
gan to twine round the
feeble, loving child, who
was so patient and grateful
for all her kindness.
One day when he was ly-
ing on the sofa, and Mrs.
Thompson was busy writing,
."he handed him a book to in-
terest him. He looked at the
pictures for some time and
then shut it up.
" Can't you read at all ?"
asked Mrs. Thompson.
"No," replied the boy,
sorrowfully.
"Well, you shall learn.
Don't be troubled about it;
you will soon get on if you
try,"
And from that day Mrs.
Thompson gave up an houi
every morning to teaching
Greg to read and write. He
was an apt pupil, for he waa
very eager to learn, and ne
got on so fast as to surprise
his teacher. By Christmas
ticu-'. he could read small
words, and Mrs, Thompson
was obliged to invent other
things to amuse him, to pre-
vent him trying to read too
much.
" But you see I want to be
able to read about the happy
land," he saiJ wittfuliy.
" Shall I read you about it
now ?" asked Mrs, Thomp-
son, taking up her Bible,
"Oh yes, do !" said Greg,
settling himself in a comfortable
attitude to listen.
.,*
(To be cunUmied.)
"Abstinence is Easieb,' a
learned medical authority (Dr.
Felix Oswald) says, "as well as
safer than temperance," This
from such a source is of weight.
Perhaps we may all find, after
awhile, that total abstinence is
like perfect honesty, " the best
policy."
To DO so no more is the truest
off the sofa till Mr, Thompson repentance. — Luther
aest 9
r;
i
eH9
r
REPRINTED STORIES, PROM THE NORTHERN M^:sS^'^'GER/;^
"THKllATTLiil'lKLD."
(AVmii f/u" CUiliirtn'n Frit-mi)
CIIAPTKR VI.-((:m(iu.if,/.)
Tho last two chaptors of Reve-
Intion worn read, whili> Circfj lis-
tont'd with all hi.s heart.
"Thi'ii tho happy land is a| "No, 1 doii'i think lio will;
city !" he oxclaiined in great do- why, I can walk ipiitc \v.>ll now,
and my back don't hurl a hit.
Yoii'vo mad
light
" y OR ; arc you glad '( '
Greij nodded " I like the
. country too, but it's so still, there's
so lew folk.s about; and I'm srlad
it's a city whcro Jesus is Hut it
won't h«i like oiir court," he ad-
ded after a pause, " because it says
' no night ' and ' no pain ' '' And
he lay back on his pillow
with such a look of happi-
ness on his lace that Mrs.
Thompson could only give
thanks that she had been per-
mitted to cheer and comfort
the child.
The boy was already quite
one ot the household ; he call-
ed Mr. and Mrs. Thompson
uncle and aunt, and wns al-
ways pleased when they call-
ed him by his full naira
Gregory. As the spring ad-
vanced, the hoy began to go
out more ; he had been kept
indoors most of the winter,
and a I \rge part of the time
had heen si)ent lying down.
Now he began to reap the
benelit of the treatment; his
back was wonderfully
stronger, and though he still
walked slowly, his whole
figure was straighter than it
had been, and his poor thin
limhs were getting stouter.
Every country sight and
sound was new to (irear, and
he was charme<l with all ho
saw, though the city still
hold hi.s warmest sympathies.
He soon began to make
frien<l3 with the difl'orent
creatures on tho farm, and
his gentleness won them all
to his side — even tho jiiirs
would grunt louder a n il
quicker when Greg's face ap-
peared at the sty with some
dainty morsel for them. Tho
chickens and ducks hastened
to him w hen ho called them
for their evening meal, and
the cows looked round with
their large dark eyes as the
boy called their names and
gave them a friendly pat.
I'oorGreg was thoroughly iv I'py.
One lovely summer's morning
Mrs. Thompson came out to
Greg, who was watching the men
mowing the field by the side of
the house. " ! have some news
lor you, Gregory," she said.
He came quickly to her side
and asked, " What is it, auntie V"
" Something that will make you
gla<l, I believe. My brother, Mr.
(ioo<lwin, and his wife are coming
hero to-morow. "
Are theyV" exclaimed the
" Ves," said Mrs. 'Ihonip.soii healthy buy oi: t of a poor cripple "Now come in and take olf your
smiling, "your heart is there still, in a few months." things."
I believe. Well, I shall have a; I?ul as ho spoke the boy caught ! Greg was very eager to hear
difTorent boy to show Mr. Good- siijht of tho horse and sprang up, all about "The Battleheld " and
will to the one ho broui;lit mo hurrying to tho door. Theiithey his old friends there; he especially
last year; I don't think he will saw ihat tlu! boy was still slightly asked for May, and Mr. Goodwin
know you. Grog " lame, and Mrs. Goodwin exclaim- told him all about her.
ed — " It is Greg, after all !" | "May is very happy now. Her
" Yes, it is Greg, to be sure!" father has quite given up the
said Mrs. Thompson, who had drink and is steadily working and
mo nearly well, just come to the door '• What do bringing home good wages,
auntie," and tho boy looked up;you think of my care?" i They have lelt 'The Battlefield,'
gratefully j "It is wonderful'" said Mr and are gone to live in a much
"It is God who has made yon Goodwin, as the boy stood there better place ; but May still comes
so much stronger, my boy; and I
am very glad iU) put yon into my
han<ls ; wo must both thauk Him
every d.iy. "
nnT.n iv the ii.w-fiet.d.
Chapteu 'VII.
STRA.N'nK. NEWS
The next day was very hot, and
grass
ilready dryinir
a .soft and Ira-
H' a as lyiiiii' full
the grass was
rapidly, makiii;;
?;raiit couch ; Gr
ength < Il It, playing with a largi
dog which belonged to the house,
and who was the boy s chief play-
mate, when a gig drove up. (ireg
was so busy lauifhiiig and play-
ing that he did not h<>ar it.
" That cannot be Greg," said
■uest J \
til
t^
hoy, a sudden flush coming into Mrs. Goodwin, as they passed
his face. "Oh, I am glad, and ^ him.
thi'U I shall hear all about 'The| "No," said her husband, laugh-
Ituttlelii^ld.' " ing ; " you cannot make a strong.
with a healthy color on his to our Band of Hope meetings,
cheeks, which were quite chubby,' and we often see her father and
and his whole beinir looking as mother. May still talks of the
if fresh life had come into it. " It| happy land ; she says she loves to
think of it now just as much
as she did when she was in
trouble, and she is glad to
think that every day brings
it nearer. She often asks for
you, and she said I was to
tell you that she finds she
has just as hard a battle to
liirht as ever she had. "
G r e g looked rather
puzzled.
"Don't you know, my boy,
that Satan, tho great enemy,
is always fighting us and try-
ing to prevent us living as
children of God ; he does not
come only in dark crowded
courts and alleys in the
cit.y — he comes in pleasant
homes and quiet country
places as well. Wherever
there are human hearts to be
tried and tempted, there
Satan comes, an<l there is a
battlefield in which angels are
watching to see tho results.
May has given her young
heart to tho Saviour, and
longs to live for Him ; but she
finds that Satan opposes her
in every way, and that
though she is not in Field's
court, she is still on the great
battlefield, and has many a
hard fight."
Grear looked grave and
thoughtful. "When will it be
over V" he asked.
"When ,Tesus comes, then
all the fight will be over and
the victory won. But even
now there are victories won
which cause great joy in
heaven, though they are
never heard of on earth ; and
the victors may bo little chil-
dren, or weak men and wo-
men, who are thought
nothing of by the great of this
world, though they will wear a
crown in heaven.''
Presently Mrs. Thompson and
Mrs. Goodwin came downstairs,
and they all sat down to tea.
Tho little holiday passed all too
rapidly away. Mr. ami Mrs.
Goodwin could only stop two
days, as they promised to go and
stay with Mrs, Goodwin's mother
for tho remainder of their holiday.
They had tea out'iii the hay, and
went over tho larin seeing all
Greg's pel! , rejoicing that the boy
was so happy.
"Shall I take him back to
Loudon with in(>y" askecl Mr
is wonderful ! I could not have
believed the child could he so
chanced."
" An<l I can read." said Greg,
with a Hushed face, as it proud to
be so altere<l ; " and I can write a
little; auntie teaches me all sorts
of things "
" Auntie is verv go o you, I
think— she has done a great deal
for you."
" Yes, she has," said Greg go-
ing up to her anil lovinijly link-
ing his arm in hers; "and I'm
going to work hard for her when
I'm a man.'
" So you shall, my boy, " said
Mrs. Thompson kissing him.
m^
M
154
refrintj:d storiks. from thk "northern messenger."
Goodwin of his sister, the even-
ing bol'ore he left.
" No," she said, quickly, " I
should think not, :ind pray do not
mention the sniiject to the boy;
bis heart is there still, he seems
to Kiel he must be nearer to his
mother there. I suppose you
have not found ont any more of
his parentage?"
" No, I wish I oould ; but his
old tyranny will not admit me to
the house at all now."
Mr. and Mrs. Croodwin had
only been homeag-«iii about three
weeks, when one morning a mes-
senger came to their house, ask-
ing Mr. Goodwin to go round at
once to *' The Battlcheld," as Mrs.
Jackson was dying. He went,
and found the old woman lying
" I don't want none," she said,
fiercely: "gin's better than all
the beef-tea that was ever made.
Do yor want to hear any more ?"
"Certainly," said Mr. Goodwin.
" Well, that baby wor Greg.
His mother died afore the week
wor out."
" Did you find out nothing more
about her family ?"
" No; how could 1 1 'tworn't no
business of mine."
" W hat became of the little girl,
Greg's sister ?"
" The day after Mrs. Dowcett
died, my sister says, ' Aye, Moll,
you've done it now; yer thought
to get money, and yer've got two
bairns on yer hands!' Mrs. Lis-
ter wor there. She were always
soft over children : she says, ' I'll
in a filthy bed, (be room smelling ! take the little girl, she shan't go
strongly of drink, nnd a glass and to the workhouse,' and I wor glad
bottle standing on a chair within
reach of her hand.
" I didn't send for you to come
and talk to me." she said, speak-
ing with ditficulty ; " I'm a-goin'
to talk to you, if yer'll listen It's
about that lad, Greg : he ain't my
grandchild." And she paused
for breath. ' I expect I'm took
(or death," she went on, "aV it'll
ease my conscience to tell yer.
Will yer reach me that book ?'
and she pointed to a book on the
top of a chest of drawers in a cor-
ner, rt was covered with dust, but
Mr. Goodwin saw it was a Bible.
"Open it," said the old woman,
shortly ; " look at the beginning.''
Mr. Goodwin did so, and read
on the title-page: " To Patience
and Gregory Dowcett, with their
mother's love and blessing. and be
sure you both meet me in
heaven."
" How did you come by this 1"
he asked.
" W^ell, I'm a-goin' to tell yer.
It's ten years ago since I wor
goin' along the street one night,
and I saw a young woman, very
respectable and decent she look-
ed, but very ill. She had a baby
in her arms, and another little one
enough to let her go. There wor
only three pounds in the poor
body's purse ; I had that, and her
clothes, that wor all."
" And you kept Greg?"
" Yes, I don't know why ; he's
been more bother than he's worth.
You can send him that Bible if
you've a mind."
Mr. Goodwin tried to get all
the information he could out of
her, but the old woman seemed
determined not to say anything
more ; she turned away from him
and would not speak. Mr.<Good-
win read a few verses and spoke
of the Saviour, and saying she
had given him information for
which he was much obliged, and
he should look in again soon, he
left the house. He went home,
and alter telling his wife about it,
they decided that they ought to
write to the Thompsons and let
them know of this, as they had
so taken the child to their hearts.
" And what about the poor wo-
man ?" asked Mrs. Goodwin.
'■ We will go together and see
her by-and-by ; perhaps she will
open to you."
But when they went the door
was locked, and though they
running by her side. She spoke; knocked and waited, they could
tome. 'Canyon toll me where gain no admittance,
lean get a night's lodging?' she
said; 'I'm a s'ranger in London.'
' No, I ean'l,' I .said, for 'tvvornt
my business to look alter stran-
gers. ' I've got some money — I
could i)ay for it,' she says. So I
thimuht I'd make something out
of her. 'All right,' 1 says; 'I'll
take yer to a loclgin, and I
brousrht her here. She didn't
Serin to llki' my room over well,
but she wor very ill, and she laid
down in the corner in a faint,
.•-ihe said .she had lust heard her
liusbaiid liad been drowned, and
she had come up iroiii the coun-
try to be sure, and lo-niorrow
she'd go back. But, bless ye, she
wor too ill."
Again Mrs. Jackson paused,
and reaching out lurhaiid for the
glas.s, (I lank it oil' at .i draught.
" That Won t di you any good,
Mrs. JacktoM,' said .Mr. (joodwin.
Jl
«H9
" .My wife
some beel-lea
hall
Next day, to their astonish-
ment Mr. "Thompson walked in.
" Your letter startled me con-
siderably," he said ; " but lirst of
all I must tell you a story you
never heard. Ihadasisteryounger
than myself, and about fifteen
years ago, just belore my own
marriage, she ran away with a
young sailor named James Dow-
cett"
Mr. Goodwin started. " Then
Greg 18 your own nephew ?"
" I fancy so. Dowcett had
been about the village for some
time ; he had not a relation in the
world, and he gave all his heart's
love to my sister Patience, and
she loved him devotedly in re-
turn. But my father would not
hear of it ; ho said his only girl
should luit marry a sailor— so they
ran away. And father was so
aiiyrv he would never hear their
where we live now, and I never
heard any more of my sister ; but
the name 'Patience Dowcett'
seems to settle the matter beyond
dispute. Will you let me see
the Bible ? "
Mr. Godwin handed it to his
brother-in-law, who exclaimed
the moment he saw it, " Why that
was my mother's Bible !' and
turning to the first chapter of
Genesis, he saw on the margin,
written in a fine small writing,
"Patience Thompson." " We of-
ten wondered why mother should
write her name there instead of
on the blank page at the begin-
ning of the book ; and she said
that that page might easily be
torn ont, but this would not, and sullenly; "I'd enough to
she should like her children al- without looking after him."
their
send you round names met '^ onod again. By-and-
bv I iiKtrried. and moved away to
ways to know it was
mother's Bible. She must have
given it to my sister, and no
doubt she read it and learnt to
trust in Christ."
There was silence a little while,
and then Mr. Goodwin said,
" How wonderful Gkxl's ways
are ! How remarkable the chain
of events— your wishing to adopt
a child, oar knowing that poor
needy one, and your great love
for him — and now to find he is
really your own !"
" "xes, it is remarkable. Now
we must find the girl, if she is
still living. Why, we shall be
quite rich with two children!
But first of all, I must see that old
woman and find out all I can.
Had we not better go at once ?"
So Mr. Goodwin and his
brother-in-law made their way (b
" The Battlefield."
Chapter VIII.
ANXIOUS SEARCUINO.
Mr. Goodwin tapped at the
door, which was answered by a
woman whom he recognized as a
next-door neighbor.
" Can we see Mrs. Jackson ?'
he asked ; " how is she now ?"
" Yon can see her if yer've a
mind to ; she died about two
hours since."
" Died ! so soon ! I had no idea
she was so near her end."
" Yes, she was took quite sud-
den at last."
" I am very sorry," said Mr.
Thompson ; " I particularly want-
ed to see her. Have you known
her long?"
"(3h yes, I've lived agen her ever
since she lived in this court."
" Then perhaps you can re-
member a sick woman coming
hero with two children."
" What, Greg's mother ? Oh
yes, I remember her well enough,
though I only saw hor twice.
She was in a line way when she
felt herself dying, and know she'd
have to leave the childor with
old Moll; bat just before she
iedslio said, ' My trouble's gone,
God will take care of my little
ones; I will leave them to Him.'"
' Poor thing!" said Mr. Thomp-
son ; " I wish I could have seen
her again. Was Greg always de-
formed irom a baby ?"
" Oh no, he wor as fina a babby
as ever yon saw — a deal too big
and hearty for his poor mother to
nurse and tend to. But old Moll
didn't half feed him, and she used
to sit him up in a corner and leave
him by hisself long afore he
conld walk. He's been knocked
about ever since his mother died ;
it's a wonder he ever lived at all ;
it would ha' been a mercy if he'd
been took too."
" How can you talk like that?"
said Mr. Thompson, indignantly ;
" who can tell what a blessing he
may be (o the world yet V Did
you ever to anything to comfort
the lonely child ?"
" Not 1," said the woman,
do
Lis-
II
Did you know the Mrs.
ter who took the little girl ?"
" Yes, course I did. Didn't she
live in Eagle Court ? She wor
real soft over children."
" It was a good thing the poor
little girl fell into such hands.
Where is Eagle Court, and does
Mrs. Lister live there now ?"
" 1 never see her now. I don't
know where she lives, I'm sure."
" Eagle Court is not far off,"
said Mr.Goodwin, "but there is no
Mrs. Lister there now ; however,
we made some inquiries."
After visiting many houses and
asking many questions, the only
thing they could find out was
that a Mrs. Lister, a hard-working
woman, with a young girl once
lived in that court. But four or
five years before, the poor wo-
man had met with an accident,
and was taken off to the hospital ;
the child stayed on in the same
room by herself for awhile, but
after a few weeks the landlord
had seized the goods for payment,
and had turned the child out-of-
doors. What became of her, no-
body knew.
" We seem to ha^e lost the
clue," said Mr. Thom]>son, as he
and his brother-in-law retraced
their steps. " I must find the
girl, but the question is, how? I
cannot stay away from home
longer now, I must return by this
evening's train ; but if you could
suggest any plan for finding her,
I would come up again."
" The only thing J can think
of is to find out, if possible, which
hospital Mrs. Lister went to, and
try and trace her from there. I
will do what I can, and will let
you know."
The next morning Mr. Thomp-
son arrived at home, nnd told his
wife all his news. She was de-
lightod to learn that Greg was
really their own nephew, and
that she never need fear his being
taken from them, as they were his
nearest relatives : .;nd she was
as anxious as her husband to find
tho little lost niece.
" Shall wo go and tell Greg at
once ?" asked Mr. Thompson.
" To be sure !" exclaimed his
wife,' " how delighted the child
will be !"
{To be cunlinued.)
;; —
m4
n
m4
»*»
RKPRINTKD STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
— «•
155
"THE BATTLEiPiELD."
(From Iht OhiMreu'i Fiimd.)
CHAPTER Vm.- Gontinued.
So Greg heard the story of his
young days, and of his father's
and mother's death— heard also
that Mr. and Mrs. Thompson
were his own uncle nnd mint. Ho
listened with tearful eyes nnd
parted mouth, his whole frame
quiverinp with emotion.
Mr. Thompson put his arm
round the boy and drew him
close to him. " Gregory Dowcett,
you are my own sister's child, and
belong to us now."
The boy clung to his uncle, and
then threw both arms round
his aunt and burst into tears,
too overwrought to speak.
At .last he sobbed out —
" Then I've got a name of my
own — a real, whole name !"
" Yes, your father's name."
And then Mr. Thompson told
him all he remembered of his
father, the bright young
sailor who had loved his sis-
ter Patience, till Greg felt
that both father and mother
were living realities to him,
and that past friendlcssness
in Field's Court must have
been a dreary dream. But if
the boy was charmed and
comforted to hear all this,
how excited he was to know
that he had a sister !
" Is she living ?" he asked,
all trembling. " We do not
know yet, but we will do all
we can to find out. Mr.
Goodwin is making in-
quiries."
" What is her name, and is
she older than 1 ? And why
didn't she live with me ?"
" One question at a time,
my boy. Her name is Pa-
tience, and she is a year or
two older than you. After
your mother died, old Mrs.
Jackson let her go with
gome woman who seems,
from all accounts to have
been fond of the child.
Cheer up, Greg: God has
most wonderfully brought
you to us, and we will ask
Him to bring Patience to us,
too, ii she is still living."
"God can tind her, can't
He?" said (jreg, brightening
up as he thought of it.
" Yes, she is not lost to
Him. He knows where she is at
this moment, and He can direct
our steps to her."
" Then we must ask Him about
her every day," returned Greg,
wisely. And then he throw him-
self on the sofa as if too over-
whelmed to hear more. Mr. and
Mrs. Thompson wont about their
household duties, and when his
aunt returned to the room she
found the boy fast asleei>, worn
out with excitement.
It was not till the afternoon
that Mr. Thompson ventured to
give the boy his mother's Bible,
and then he questioned whether
it would not have been better to
wait a day or two, for Greg trem-
bled so, he could hardly hold it
— the book which was the one
link between himself and the
mother he had never known.
Ho read his name and his sister's
name, traced there by his
mother's hand, and her desire
that her children should meet her
in heaven.
" Then my mother is with
Jesus !" he exclaimed, trium-
phantly, "and I'm going to her
one day."
"It is a happy thing for you to
bo able to say that, Greg," said
his aunt. "If we belong to the
Saviour and are going to His
Two or three days passed be-
fore Mr. Goodwin wrote, and
then he said he had found Mrs.
Lister's name down in the books
of a hospital not far from them :
"Discharged relieved," it said,
but thejr knew nothing more.
" So again we have lost the end of
our thread," wrote Mr. Goodwin,
" and I hardly know where to
look now, but you shall hear at
once if we have the slightest
clue."
" I will go up again when har-
vest is over," said Mr. Thompson,
and consult a solicitor; perhaps
he could give me some help."
" Let mc go up with you
OREO TRKMBIiKD SO, HE COULD HARDLY HOLD IT.
home, then nothing
10 \M>rry us tnucli
to 1)0 happy all the
here
wo
time
briuht
OUU'llt
ought
with tho thought of the joy in
store lor us."
" Yos," said the boy, clasping
his Bible close to him, "and I am
going to read all 1 c;ni about it."
Ho went out into the liekls and
did not return till tea-time, and
then it was with tho Bible in his
hands. And when his aunt
pcejied into his room the last
thing before she went to bed, she
saw the Bible lying on his pillow
close to his face. She did not
move it, but leant down and kiss-
ed liim with tears in her eyes.
uncle," pleaded Greg. " I ought
to go and look for my own sister."
" My boy, what could you
do r
" I ask God every day to let
me find her, and I believe Ho
will one day," and Greg looked
up with bright eyes; "and I
should like to see 'The Battle-
Held' again."
'■ Well, we will think about it.
I cannot go till the harvest is in,
anyway."
In a few weeks the reapers came,
and the rich golden sheaves were
bound up and left to dry in the hot
sun. livery one was very busy,
and Grec; took his share of work,
taking messages from his uncle to
the men, and carrying cans of co-
coa and cool drinks in the fore-
noon and afternoon, Mr. Thomp-
son did not allow intoxicating
drinks to be brought into his
fields, but his men did not do
less work on that account. At
the harvest-supper the tables
were full of good, substantial
food, plenty of fresh meat, and
large rich cakes, besides other
dainties; but the men had noth-
ing stronger than good coffee,
with abundance of cream, and
what could they have better ?
Mr. Thompson took the oppor-
tunity of the gathering to intro-
duce Gregory to them aa his
nephew, and to tell the men
he meant to bring him np as
his own son. The men gave
three hearty cheers for their
master, his wife, and Greg,
and many wishes were ex-
pressed that they might soon
find their lost one.
" We must have her here
by our next harvest-supper,"
said one of the men to Greg,
afterwards.
" I wish we could, Ralph ;
we must ask God to tell us
where she is, because He sees
her, you know, and I want
to see her so much."
" You'll see her yet. Mas-
ter Gregory, you'll see her,
never fear ; only ask the dear
Lord about her, and He'll
make it all right."
" But perhaps she is with
Jesus," said the boy, wist-
fully.
" No," said the old man ;
"when I first heard about it
I said ' She's all right some-
where and we shall see her
yet.' No, I seem to feel she is
somewhere on earth."
" I'm so glad," said Greg.
" Uncle and I are goin^ to
London next week to look
for her. You'll see after my
apple-tree, won't you, Ralph ?
Uncle gave me that one all
for my own, and I shouldn't
like my sister to come and
find all the apples gone."
" I'll tiike care of them,
never fear ; don't you be un-
easy. Only bring your sis-
ter, Master Gregory, and
you'll iind all right here."
Chapter IX.
k VISIT TO OLD FRIENDS.
The journey to London did not
seem half so long to Greg as the
journey down had been, and he
was not nearly so tired as he ex-
pected when they arrived at Mr.
Goodwin's. Next day Mr. Thomp-
son and Mr. Goodwin went off to
a solicitor's, and Gregory and
Mrs. Goodwin started to see old
Isaac. Just as they turned the
corner, whom should they see
sitting in her usual place but
Biddy the apple-woman Greg
darted across to her,
"An' what'U yer buy thi
mornin' ? " she asked. Will
this «l
p
156
REPRINTED STORIES. FROM THE "NORTHERN MESSENGER."
«t
be a pen'orth o' apples ye're
wantin' ?"
" Don't yon know me ?" asked
Grefif, eagerly.
The woman looked him over
from lop to toe. "Sure an' I
never set eyes on ye afore, at all,
at all."
" Oh, bat you hare ! ' retaftied
the boy, " and yon were so kind
to me. I've often sat under your
shawl there, a<-d had some of
your tea.'
The woman held up both her
hands. " An' have I lost my
head ? for it's none of it I remem-
ber."
" Don't you remember a poor
cripple boy who lived in
" The Battlefield' ?"
" Sure an' I remember him,
the kindly soul !"
"Well, that's me," said
Greg, getting rather confused
in his grammar with the
diffirulty of making Biddy
understand.
" An' I can't belave it ; but
may the Lord bless ye !
WHat a lino gentleman ye've
got to bo now, and how did
ye grow so well?"
"Because I've had so
much kindness shown me,
and because God has been
so good," said Greg, grate-
fully. "I've got an aunt and
uncle of my own now —
really mine I mean, and I
live with them."
" Sure, an' you deserve it
all,'" returned the Irish-
woman, warmly.
" 1 11 como and see you
again ; but Mrs. Goodwin is
waiting for me nosv, and I
must not stay. Good-by,"
" Good-by, and may bless-
ings attend ye," said Biddy,
still hardly grasping the fact
that Greg was indeed the
lonely child she had be-
friended.
A hearty welcome awaited
him from old Isaac, who was
still in his usual place, though
evidently thinner and weaker.
" Well, to be sure," he
said; '' Mr. Goodwin told me
you'd grown stout and strong,
but I never knew such a
change in my life, I never
did !"
" I will leave you here a
little," said Mrs. Goodwin,
" while I make two or three
other calls, and will come back
again here for you."
So the boy sat down, and be-
gan an eager (alk with the old
man. "It ail looks so different
here to what it used to," he said,
somewhat puzzled; "it looks so
much darker and dirtier than it
used to, and so much smaller ;
how IS that ?"
" Bi'oause you have been living
in a better place, with fresher air
and more sunshine ; that's why
it is," said Isaac, as if drinking in
with great enjoyment the great
change that he felt assured bad
takeu pl'Aco
" You vo heard thatMr.Thomp-
son is my real uncle, haven't
you ?" asked Greg.
"Yes, Mr. Goodwin told me,
Truly God's ways are past find-
ing out. It dian't seem likely
that such a change would come
to you, Greg, did it ? I remem-
ber so well that first day you
came to see me, so forlorn and
unhappy, and "
" You told me of the happy
land," broke in Greg, eagerly,
" and you asked the Lord Jesus
to show me the way there, and
He has ; and He's done so much
else for me too."
" Ay, that's the Lord's way —
He always does exceeding
and uncle are not princes
" Eh, but they are — Gk>d'8
princes. See," and Isaac opened
his Bible which always lay with-
in reach of his hand — "it says,
'Even with the princes of His
people.' If Mr. and Mrs. Thomp-
son ain't ' princes of His people,'
after all the care and love that
they showed you when they
didn't know you belonged to
them at all — well, then I don't
know who is. You're set
among princes, Greg, sure
enough. And you'll be set
among princes in God's own
palace some day, since you are
His own."
too, and vet you are poor, and yon
oan't walk, and yon live in this
dark court," said Greg.
" Ay, ay, bat the goodness and
tender mercy are crowning me
too; see what goodness it is o{
God to have made me His child.
He always gives me food to eat,
and helps me to earn some money,
and He gives me kind friends,
and He's making ready such a
grand home for me yonder,
where I shall be strong and well
again, and shall see His face and
bo like Him." And the old man's
face grew brighter as he added
up God's mercies.
They sat silent a little while,
oad thea Greg said — "Do
yiMi know I've got a sister
somewhere ? I've come to
London with uncle to try and
find her. Where do you
think she can be ?"
" There's no knowing, to
be sure ; but the Lord knows,
and He can let you know."
" Will you ask Him to let
US know ?"
" To be sure, I will. It
would be a blessed thing for
her to be found."
" I went to see May this
morning ; do you often see
her ?"
" Not so often as I did.
She's always busy, and has
to attend her school."
" She's going out to service
next weeK ; she's grown so
big, I hardly knew her. I
wish she lived down in the
country too, and I wish May
was my sister."
" You'll love your own sis-
ter better than May when
you find her. There's Mrs.
Goodwin ; open the door for
her."
But Mrs. Goodwin could
not stay. She had heard
some news which she
thought might lead to some-
thing, and she was anxious
to be home again that her
husband and brother might
at once see about it.
( To be t:untinued.)
1
n *'
i -
THE -MEETIIfa OF OKKd AND BIDDY THE APPLE-WOMAN.
abundantly above all we ask or
think. I was reading in a book
the other day : ' All God's chil-
dren are His heirs, and all His
heirs are princes, and ail His
princes are crowned.' ''
" Is that in the Bible V" asked
the boy.
'' Just them words ain't in the
Bible, but the meaning of them
is, though : " He raiseth up the
poor out of the dust... that He
may set him with princes.' He's
done that for you, Greg "
" No," said the boy, thou^rht-
fully, " not all that. He's raised
me out of the dust, I know ; but
I'm not among princes. Aunt
The boy gave a little sigh of
happiness. " But you said ' neirs'
and ' crowned ;' what does that
mean ?"
" God's Word says ' if children,
then heirs.' If you're God's
child, then you're heir to all His
riches — that means you can never
be poor and never forsaken, be-
cause all heaven belongs to yon.
Some day you will have the full
enjoyment of it, and till then you
are crowned ' with loving kind-
ness and tender mercies'— God
watching over yon and caring for
yon here, till you go to be with
Him there."
" But you, you are God's child
TiTtis Salt and the Al-
paca Sample.— When Salt
was 33 years old, and as yet
a spinner in a small way, he
paid a visit to a wool ware-
house in Liverpool. There he
saw a quantity of long hairy
material lying about which the
merchant had been unable to sell
for years. Salt offered to take the
lot off his hands, and the mer-
chant was only too glad to dis-
pose of it on the young spinner's
terms. This material was alpaca,
the wool of an animal fonnd in
various parts of South America.
Salt's experiments with it were
completely snocessfnl. He found-
ed a new industry, built up a
colossal fortune, raised a town,
and finally died a baronet.
There is nothing so strong or
safe in an emergency of lite as the
simple truth. — Dicken*.
eH»
|ind yoa
in this
kesa and
Jiing me
lit is o{
(is child.
to eat,
I money,
I friends,
such a
J yonder,
Jind well
■ace and
|ld man's
added
while,
lid—" Do
a sister
borne to
try and
do you
5 -
will. It
thing for
jtEPRINTED STORIES, FROM THE « NORTHERN MESSENGER."
157
i
"THB BATTLEFIELD."
(r\rom IHt OMUIrit'i Mend.)
OHAPTEB IX.-am«nu«J.
S«>on after they got in, Mr.
Goodwin arrived from the city,
wharv a solicitor had been con-
sulted.who had promised to think
the matter orer, and to help them
all ho conld. Mrs. Goodwin told
her story — how she had heard of
a friendless girl who had been
living alone in Eagle Court for
some years, and how she thought
it may prove to be Patience Dow-
celt. Many inquiries were set on
foot; and Mr. Thompson wont to
see the girl himself, while Greg
was greatly excited to think
that very soon he might bo
with his long lost sister. But
when Mr. Thompson return-
ed he said he felt sure the
girl was not the one he
sought.
" She is too old, in the first
place — she is nearly eighteen
she says; and then her
mother only died a few years
ago, she remembers her quite
well. No, I am sure she is
not my sister's child. We
most look out and wait."
A few more days pnssed.
And Mr. Thompson said ho
must return to his farm.
Greg seemed quite in de-
spair at the thouffht of re-
turning without This sister,
and begged hard to be al-
lowed to remain in London.
" But what will aunt say ?"
said Mr. Thompson. " She
did not like to part with yon,
even for this short time, and
will be very disappointed if I
go home without you."
" But she wants me to find
Patience, and I know wo
shall soon. Isaac prays ."^or
her every day, and God will
soon tell us whore she is."
" Let him stay for awhile,"
said Mrs. Goodwin ; " wo
w<ll tiike care of him, and
perhaps this very desire is of
God's ordering."
So Greg stayed in London,
sending lots of love down to
his aunt, and telling her to
be sure and get a room rr ady
for Patience, for he felt sure
that Sod would bring her
liometo them soon.
The days and weeks wont
by. Mr. Goodwin followed
np every clue, and Greg was un-
ceasing in his efforts to Knd the
lost one. 9ne afternoon he was
visiting old Isaac, and they had
at usual been talking of the happy
land, when the door opened and a
step was heard.
" Who is that?" asked Grpg.
" I expect it is the upstairs lod-
ger."
" I didn't know there was one."
" Oh yes, Mrs. .Tones lived there
for many years, till her daughter
took her away tc live with her;
Martha's lived there ever since."
" Does she live all by herself?"
" Yes, she's quite young, but
■he has no friends, poor thing.
and she's such' a quiet, good girl.
Patty!" he called, as the steps
■gain passed the door, " come in
here abit."
The door was pushed open,
and a gentle looking girl of about
fifteen came in.
" Are you busy just now ?" ask-
ed Isaac.
"No, I was only just going to
the shop for some bread."
" Well, stop here a bit ; here's a
friend of mine come to see me.
Ain't you at work this afternoon ?"
" No," and the girl's lips quiv-
ered; " they say t£ey shan't nave
any more work at present."
"Nevermind," said Isaac, hope-,
" I didn't leave her ; she was
taken ill and went to the hospital,
and while she was there the land-
lord sold everything up, and
turned me out, and I never heard
any more of her."
" What have you been doing
ever since ?"
" I got work at a factory, and
since I came here I've been work-
ing for a manufacturer, but to-
day ho says he shan't want me
again at present, so I must look
out for fresh work."
Mr. Goodwin talked to her for
time, and rejoiced to find
THE Oini. SOON RKAPPEAnKU, HOLDING IN IIEU HAND A POCKET-
tlA.N'DKEBCHlEF."
fully. "Some more work'll turn up;
don't you hp (lowii-lieaiti'd. iSee,
Greg here, he was bad oil' iii. one
time : hi' tlrest all in rags iiid wai
nigh starved, and now tie's quite
thegeiilieiii.iii !"
Oreghad earnestly watched the
gentle face, and now he asked
eagerly, " 'What's your name?"
" Patty Lister."
" What I " exclaimed Greg,
jumping up, "did you live with
Mrs. Lister in Eagle Court ?"
" Yes, I did, but I lost her. Do
you know her ?"
" Oh, stay here with Isaac till I
fetch Mr. Goodwin," siid Greg,
greatly excited — " piomiae me
you'll stay." "I'll stay if you
like, but what are yon going to
do?"
But Greg was off.
Chapter X.
FOUND AT LAST !
Mr. Goodwin hurried away to
» The Battlefield" with Greg, as
soon as ho heard the news.
" Don't build too much upon it,
my boy," he said, as they walked
down the street ; " there may
have been another Mrs. Lister in
Eagle Court. We must not let
the girl expect too much, I that the girl seemed to have been
especially as she is in need, till we] kept pure and simple through all
the lonely life she had led.
" How came you to be liv-
ing alone? Have you no
friends?"
"No, sir; Mrs. Lister al-
ways said it was best to keep
ourselves to ourselves, and 1
never wanted to mix with
girls at the factory."
"How came you to find
lodgings here ?"
" I always liked ' The
Battlefield.' Mrs. Lister said
my mother died there, and
when the folks I lived with
left Falcon's Alley, I found
this room was to let, and
came here."
" Did you know Mrs. Lis-
ter was not your mother ?"
" Oh yes, she often told me
so."
" Have you any brothers
and sisters ?"
" I have one brother — at
least, Mrs. Lister told me so
just after her accident, be-
fore they took her to the hos-
pital. I think she thought
she was going to die, and she
said, 'Patty, you've got a
brother. I'm to blame that I
never let you know it before,
but old Moll's such a had
woman.' I don't know what
she meant ; but I've never
seen him."
Mr. Goodwin could hardly
restrain Greg from sj)eaking,
but he laid his hand on the
boy's shoulder, and asked
Patty, " Do you know your
mother's name at all ?"
"Yes," she said slowly;
Mrs. Lister gave me a hand-
kerchief that she said was
mother's, with her name on
it; she said I was never to
use it, but always to keep it for
her sake. It's upstairs; shall I
get it ?"
" Yes, do."
And the girl left the room.
" She is my sister, Mr. Good-
win — oh, isn't she?" said Greg,
and the boy shook with excite-
ment.
" I think so, Greg, I really
think so ; God is very good to
you; but don't tremble so. my
boy."
" Ay, but I'm glad you found
her here," said Isaac.
The gill soon re-appeared.hold-
ing in her hand a pocket-haud
kerchief^ yellow with age
1
are sure she is really your sister;
tor it would b« atrial to her to be
turned adrift after hoping for a
home."
'• 1 didn't say anything to her
at all," returned the boy ; " I only
asked her to wait till I had fetch-
ed you."
The moment Mr. Goodwin saw
tha girl, half his doubts were dis-
sipated ; there was such a strong
likeness between her and Greg.
She seemed a good deal surprised
at 80 much questioning, but an-
swered everything in a quiet,
straightforward way.
" How came you to leave
Mr*. Lister ?" asked Mr. Goodwin.
I audS
¥ Tss
REPBINTED STORIES, FROM THE " NORTHERN MESSENGER."
tooff keeping, marked in one of
the corners — " Paliecee Dowcett."
€^eg sprang towards her,
" You're my sister, Patty, my own
cifttor ! oh, I am glad ! You wili
love me, won't yon ? Say yon'U
loTO m« !"
The girl looked greatly be-
wildered, bat she pat her arm
roaod the boy. and kissed him,
while Mr. Gk>odwin and Isaac
wept for joy.
" 'Tis trae onoagh, Patty," 8«id
Isaac ; " yoa'll have a home and
friends now, cure enoagh."
" Sit down, my child," said Mr.
Goodwin — "sit down; yon are
overdone. I will tell yon all
abont It." And as shortly as ho
conid he told of Orel's life with
old Mrs. Jackson of Uie discovery
of his ancle and aant,and of their
anxioas search for her.
" It seems all like a dream,"
said the girl ; " I can hardly be-
lieve it."
" Yes, it is a great change for
yon, but it is true, my child," said
Mr. Goodwin, kindly. " Now let
us thank Qod for bringing us all
together, and for giving as this
joy, and then we must telegraph
for Mr. Thompson."
" Why did you say your name
was Patty Lister V asked Greg.
"Well, I was called so, as I
lived with Mrs. Lister.
" You won't say so again, will
you ?" he Mked, eagerly.
" No, I won't" she said, taking
bis hand.
giving that she had at laat befln
brought to them.
" Bnt where ia the child V ask-
ed warm-hearted Mrs. Thompson ;
" why don't we see her ?"
Qrog darted from the room,
and anickly brought in his sister,
a pale, timid-looking girl, who
seemed shy and upset at all the
changes that were taking place,
and at being the object of so many
people's interest
Mrs. Thompson at once folded
the girl in her arms and gave her
a motherly embrace ; and for some
time the little room seemed in
perfect conftision, such a noise of
talking and crying and laughing
went on, and Greg remarked
quaintly, " It's almost like getting
to heaven, isn't it?"
By-and-by Mr. Thorapwn went
round to see the little room where
Patience had lived. It was al-
most bare : a mattress was in one
corner with bedclothes neatly
folded over it, bnt no bedstead; a
broken chair, small table, and a
box made up all the remainins
furniture. One or two books, and
a cup and aaucer, beside a small
saucepan and kettle completed
the inventorv.
" Poor child, she has not much
to move," said Mr. Thompson.
" We will take the books and send
for the box, and Isaao may as
well have the remainder of the
things; they will be no good to
her now,"
"It's a blessed thing for the
" And Isaac cailed you * Martha' girl," said Isaac, as Mr. Thomp-
too." ' ion went into his room — " a bless-
ed thing to have a good home and
friends to look after her here on
earth ; and it's a blessed thing for
you, sir, to have the honor and
joy of caring for and helping
God's little ones. He will know
how to reward you."
In a day or two more, Mr. and
Mrs. Thompson, Greg, and Pa-
tience left London for their Wor-
cestershire home. As they near-
ed the village, Greg pointed out all
the objects of interest to his sister,
and talked away so eagerly, that
by the time tiiey reached the
house she was in nearly •■ great
a state of excitement as he was.
" Isn't it lovely !" he said as the
autumn sunshine was bathing the
house and garden in a crimson
glow — " isn't it lovely. Patience ?
and it's home^your home and
mine, do you nnderatand ? It's
home!"
The girl looked pale, and there
were tears in her eyes, though
her lips were smiling.
" Be gentle,OTegory dear; your
sister i« not itroiig, don't excite
her too mvoh^" Mw Mn, Thomp-
son, taking the giri'a hand while
speaking aaothUMl7 to her, and
leading Mr Wmwm.
"Are ymr^ag to tdu P*-
tienoe away, MUitio V Mdcod fihrof
— " oh, I wantod to ■how hmt
■boat •verywhsra."
- Ton ahaU «lunr hot ahsBk to*
morrow whowTOf jwiMln^^lst
•iiio BOit iM noduag todb^i
ItomeniW kow oaklt I M to
"Well, you see we have all
been making mistakes, but let us
thank God that He's cleared 'em
all away," said Isaac.
A few. words of hearty thanks-
giving followed, and then Mr.
Goodwin hastened oil to tell his
wife of the discovery of Patience,
and to telegraph to his brother-in-
law. The girl took Gree up to
her room and showed him her
few treasures, meanwhile asking
him many queHtiona, and doing
all she could to persuade herself
that this wonderful change was
indeed a reality. Then leaving
the key of her room with Isaac,
she and Greg went off to Mr.
Goodwin's.
Next day a cab drove up, and to
Grog's joy he saw not only his
uncle, out his aunt too. He
sprang down to the door and gave
them both a hearty welcome, as-
suring them that Patience wtta
very nice indeed, and that he waa
sure they would love her.
" How did you find her ?" ask-
ed Mr. Thompson, as they walked
into the house, and were gladly
received by Mr. and Mrs. Good-
win.
As briefly as possible the story
was told, and for some minntea
questions and answers followed
each other in rapid sncooHiOB.
All the evidence put b^r* Mr.
Thompson made him feet qidto
sure that this girl covM be ttOBO
other than his sister's child. Mid
his heart rose in wnti thinks
H« —
keep yon when yon first oame
here."
So Greg ran oflT to tell all the
farm-servants the story of the dis-
coverv of his sister.
" I knew you'd find her. Mas-
ter Gregory, I knew you would,
I telled you so. The dear Lord
loves to do great things, and to
look after them that are in
trouble,especially the little ones,"
said Ralph.
" But Patience isn't little, she's
bigger than me ever so much."
Julph smiled. " Well, you've
both come out of that battlefield,
bnt you're on another, and you'll
have to fight if you are going to
follow the Saviour."
"Who must I fight?"
" You've yourself to fight, and
sm to fight, and there's Satan,
who is always plaguing any who
try to walk like the Saviour;
you'll find him a pretty stifl
enemy to fight, I know."
" Then even in the country
there's a batUefield, too?" said
Greg, a little cast down.
"All over the world there's a
battlefield, and no one ever won
a victory on it except through
Him that loved them. If you
keep near the blessed Lord, He'll
give you the victory, and von're
as sale on one part of the battle-
field as another, if you're where
He has put you."
"Well," said Greg, wistfully,
"1 want to fight bravely, and
you'll help me, won't you, Ralph ?
But there's the tea-bell. I'll bring
my sister to see you to-morrow"
And he ran in quieter and hap-
pier than when he came out.
He found his uncle, aunt, and
Patience aJready seated at the
table, and no happier party ever
nnited together in praising God
than those who sat in the farm-
house parlor that evening, filled
with joy at all the way God had
led them, and had brought them
together at last.
THE KND.
SPOIL FROM THE HEA-
THEN.
A beautiful story is told of Bud
dha and a poor woman who came
to ask him if there was any medi'
cine which would bring Sack to
life her dead child. When he
saw her distress he spoke tender
ly to her, and he told her that
there was one thing which mi^ht
cure her son. He bade her brmg
him a handful of mustard seed,
common mustard seed; only he
charged her to bring it from some
house where neither father nor
mother, child nor servant had
died.
So the woman took her dead
baby in her arms, and went from
door to door asking for the mns-
tnd seed, and gladly was it given
to her; bnt when she asked
whether imy had died in that
hooso, oaoh one made the
tad Mwwor— ** I have lost my hus-
a heavy heart the woman went
back lo Buddha, and told him
how she had fkiled to get the
mustard se«d, for that she could
not find a singlo hous« where
none had died. '^''
Then Buddah showed her lov-
inffly that she must learn not to
think of her own grief alone, but
must remember the griefs of others,
seeing that all alike are sharers in
sorrow and death. — From " Her-
aldt of the Crou."
WHAT IS AMBER?
What is amber? It is the
resin, or soft gum, of an ancient
kind of fir-tree, become fossil, or
hardened by time. The wood of
the trees has all rotted away, ex-
cept some small bits that were
preserved in the amber. If yon
look at the Prussian side of the
Baltic Sea, on the map of Europe,
you see the place that produces
more amber than all the world
besides. Ages aso the whole re-
gion now covered by this sea, was
covered by these amber.prodno-
ing trees. No doubt there are
ffreat quantities of lovely amber
fying under the sea The amber
fields on the shore are about fifty
miles long by ten miles wide, and
from eighty to one hundred feet
deep. An amber mine is a source
of great wealth. As long ago as
Homer lived it was of equal
value with gold. Since people
began to date their letters "1800,"
some sixteen hundred ton's have
been duar up there ; and it is be-
lieved uat in three thousand
years, since amber was first
known, not less than sixty thou-
sand tons have been found. It
appears as if the digging could
go on at this rate forever, so vast
IS the supply. The amber is
found in separate pieces, from the
sizes of beads to pieces which
weigh pounds. The largest piece
ever discovered weighed thirteen
and one half pounds, and is now
in the Royal Mineral Oabinet^n
Berlin. The commonest impure
kinds of amber are used for var-
nish ; the fine qualities always
bring a good price for necklaces
and other ornaments.
THE LORD'S BOX.
" My boy," said a pious mother
to her little son when he had re-
ceived the first sum of mono y that
he could call his own, " give a
tenth of this back to the Lord. I
desire you to act upon this mlef
throughout life, and by thus
'honoring the Lord with your
substance, and with the first-fhiits
of all your increase,' depend upon
it, you will never be the poorer for
it."
This little boy was the late
editor of TU BritUh Workman.
He took his dear mother's advice,
and at the end of life said, " How
thankful I am that our good
mother tanght us that wise lesson
kMd," m " Mt am is dea'd." or j amongstthe many ah« g»T« «|ir—
IQax MrvMt baa died." So with < Britiik Wbrhim.
i^l
'■::l
^*m
B aaTicQ,
I, » How
ur good
iM lesson I