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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont filmdes d partir de Tangle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 z' V X V C*^ / i. A^ The iTujilight of Faith. ^/>-^y 6^i^^i '^ /y-i^*:' O^,-^ ■^ i ; •r H E fuiliflljl ol Ifaillj* BY ELIZABETH FRAME, AUTHORESS OF "SKETCHES IN PROSE AND VERSE," " floto Int net t^rongh a glass barhly." TORONTO : • HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY 1872. i EsTERKD accordlnjr to the Actof the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eiiufht hundred and seventy -one. by Emzabkth Fhamk. in the Office of the Minister of Affriculture. mUirEl' BY BCMTXR, ROSK A CO. VOROXTO. TO usand f the THEMEMORYOF MY FATHER, WHO LED ME TO CHRIST, f AND TAUGHT ME IN ALL EVENTS TO RECOGNIZE I DEDICATE THIS BOOK. i I " At I The Elms ^1 My I SuNr Mayi CORR The The CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAOR. AX A AXV^l.!^ ■ • • CHAPTER H. « The Journey CHAPTER HI. • • Elmsdale » 1 CHAPTER IV. My Diary CHAPTER V. Sunday Evening CHAPTER VI. • • • Maypc.le Brook . CHAPTER VH. • * Correspondence CHAPTER VHI. • • * The Thunderstorm . • • CHAPTER IX. The Children's Party • f • 12 19 34 40 46 58 63 68 & I I « • • ^" CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. Pic-Nic . ^^°*- 791 CHAPTER XI. Alone «S CHAPTER Xn. The Picture 89 CHAPTER XHI. Rest . lOI CHAPTER XIV. Home Again 107 CHAPTER XV. Company . 122 !i PAOB. 791 85 89 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. lOI 107 122 CHAPTER I. AT HOME. •♦ What is my strength, that I should hope. W iiat is mine end tliat I should prolong my Hfe."— ^i/7>///n-. ' ipAY, 1866, is the last date in my diary. This day ™^ twelve months ago, my deai husband was accident- ally drowned. ' Sad acciderit/ «aid the telegram. 'Melancholy accident,' echoed the daily papers. That was all. "While poor, crushed J, forgetting everything but that cruel telegram, have lived through a whole year, waiting, wishing, hoping, only to die. " I, Mary CJrey, once a happy, romping, country girl, adopted by a wealthy lady, who carried me to Boston, taught me to call her aunt, and spared no expense on my education. " At sixteen I was engaged to her nephew, Edward Ross. My dear aunt's only objection to the match was the difference in age— his being double mine ; but her failing health made her overlook this, and we were married. Aunty died suddenly in the same year. I am sure she went to heaven, she was so good to me. «'■■ I THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. i \ * " My Brother George had married Winifred Ross, and was pastor of some far west congregation. " What a fine, noble looking man Ross was. The first day I saw him seems to me nearer than yesterday. All through our ten years of married life, how good, how kind, how considerate. Then death came, oh ! so suddenly. It was cruel, cruel death. " The last year is one ever present agony. I have stayed in this house — home no more — one long, long year. I, only the ghost of my former self. House and children have fallen to the charge of Ellen, my faithful, trusted housekeeper. " Brother George is now settled at Elmsdale, one of those pretty rural charges which combine town and country. " George, Winifred, Ellen, are plotting to drive me to Elms- dale. Step by step they wish to draw me from my grief. Yet step by step my desolate heart returns to ponder on my darling husband. Gradually grief gains the victory. How can I take a step into the future — dark, cold and mysterious. A dark hand lies heavy on my soul, life is a blank, dreary waste, and must be so for ever. The only star of hope is over that merci- ful gate of death which opens at the end. For what do I hope? An awful feeling of solitariness is over me ; my soul, cut from its old moorings, drifts aimless, helpless over the vast in- finitude. God, conscious life, an hereafter, seem to nie an awful dream — a desolate may-be-so, or it may not-be-so. What am I to do ? If I turn to the world without, its selfishness dis- gusts me. If I turn to the world within, all is gloom, nothing but anguish. ■ "The door bell. Ellen will not let any one in to disturb me. Here she comes. A letter, and from Elmsdale." So mused the mistress of a nice brown stone house, in the avenue, within sight of the shady trees of Boston common, on the anniversary of her husband's death. True, his death had hi I AT HOME. been sudden, but his life had been lost in saving the lives of two human beings. A telegram, announcing the tidings, was handed to Mrs. Ross, and from that day she steadily refused to be comforted. As her means were ample, she had not the blessed stimulus of want to force her to labour, and drive out the sorrow. Ellen, an aged German woman, who had lived with Mrs. Ross' aunt, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Grey and his family, were making an effort to rouse her. Mr. Sprague, Mr. Ross' step-father, and senior partner in the firm of Ross and Co., ably seconded these plans. The children were supposed to be in urgent need of a season in the country, as Ellen had noticed signs of failing health. The doctor ordered them to go to Elmsdale. Mrs. Ross slowly broke the seal of the letter and read : — "Elmsdale, May 6th. *' Mv Dear Sister, — The love of Jesus Christ constraineth us, so that while we live we live not unto ourselves, but unto Him who died for us ; and rose again, as our beloved dead in Christ shall rise. "Jesus suffered, died, rose, and ascended into Heaven. In all things to have the pre-eminence. In all points tempted ; yet v/ithout sin. "Be ye perfect," is the command, and perfect through suffering must the Christian become. " Some say that the fmit grown against the sunny wall is the sweetest, this may be correct, yet the tree shaken by every wind, strikes its roots the deepest, and endures when the wall-trained boughs have perished. "Think on the sorrows, and the sympathy of Jesus. The strong man's anguished cry, as well as the helpless baby's wail, are heard by Him, and not heard in vain. The discipline of the cross is the school for all that is highest in us. Our sorrows touch Jesus, and make a special love for every one of us, as if there were not another being in the wide universe for Christ to love but ourselves : not a single throb in a single heart, but rushes at once to the mighty heart of our Saviour. Every tear, every sigh returns to us, purified and exalted by having passed through the eternal bosom. I It! 'M U U 4 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. " O, my dear sister, Jesus had feeling ; he could and now can be touched by our sorrows. Human sympathy cannot dry the falling tear. Divine sym- pathy can dry them, * I will give you beauty for ashes, the garments of praise for the spirit of heaviness,' as well as * grace to help in time of need. ' Think who gives grace and glory. *' When we enter that land which is fairer than day, we shall then know what at present we know not. We shall then see misfortunes, losses, and trials stripped of their earthly disguises and standing boldly out as our real friends and most faithful lovers. ** Dearest Mary, we hope you will be ready to leave in a few days. For the sake of your dear children, do make the effort to come to Elmsdale. Winnie and the children send their love to you, Thirza and Eddie, Evvies' kiss is on this corner — big one for aunty. I expect to be in Boston next week. "Yours fraternally, "George." With a sigh Mrs. Ross crushed the letter in her hand, and pacing the room, her only exercise, murmured, " Not on-^ word in this letter do I understand, except that I am wanted to go to the country. The poor dear children may enjoy the summer there. All places are the same to me, only I hate to move from this house, sacred to me by the memories of my dear Ross, he selected those pictures, that bust was his choice, sometimes I think that most husbands are not the all to their wives, that he was to me. Edward was my all, all, all. Few men like him." "What is this, Ellen?" she demanded of the girl as she entered the room. " O, I see, my diary and letter book, you were very kind to think of them, Ellen." " I always pack them in your travelling trunk," replied Ellen. " My brother is anxious that I should resume my correspon- dence, I answer no letters now a days, 1 wonder what has become of all they have written from Elmsdale?" she said with an enquiring look to Pollen. " They are all in this book, you allowed me to arrange them," said Ellen. AT HOME. n " Did I ?— O thanks ! There is the bell, Ellen, do not let any one in. Give me the book." " The last letter is May, and unfinished to dear papa whom we will go to meet Saturday. "Then came that telegram, * Ross Dead !' it crushed me ! I was stunned ! Dr. Ames, aunt's dear old friend and pastor, wishes me to resume my diary, he says Ross will be watching me as I write. This assurance almost nerves me for the task. If Ross is only as pleased to see me with my pen in hand as poor EUeii was to-day, I would be amply repaid. " J.et me reopen my diary by saying, why was it not I that had died ? Why did I not die ? How have I lived ? How am I to live ? I lived then although God was so very, very cruel as to let me ? I believe the doctor was called ! George came ! Winifred came ! Ross was carried to Woodlawn ! The sun shone brightly ! The aroma from the :edars scented the air ! The birds flitted among the boughs ! The grass, the flowers looked so green ! My tearless eye noted every object, every object seemed petrified except my heart which was so raw, so sore that all mine eye rested upon seemed to touch every nerve, thrill every fibre, yet I could not cry. I held George's arm, saw him and Winnie weep, saw the other mourners gather around the grave ! It seemed to me a solemn pantomime around an open grave. George led me to the carriage ! We returned to the house ! It was quiet ! the stillness saved me. One day I lay wondering why the shutters were all closed and the curtains down, I realized my sad loss, tears came, Winnie stooped over me, I saw her weep with me, and from that gloomy hour, no day has passed unwept, I only live, because I cannot die. I know not how long George and Winnie staid, their babe took sick ; to save his life the doctor sent them home. I thanked him for that. I was so glad to be alone. THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. "What next, I know not when, but I know Dr. Ames came, and the doctor's young wife ; both talked to me, but in their talk was no comfort. Hands touched mine, but only to send an icy, unsympathizing chill to my heart yes looked pityingly into mine ; but their glazed start' failed to read the grief at the bottom of my soul. Miserable comforters ! " George returned again and again to tell me of Jesus Christ, but I then, and even now doubt if Christ be man or God, God-man, or if his story be only a beautiful myth. People talk to me of resignation, how can I be resigned to see my Eddie and Thirza fatherless, and to lose one of the best, the kindest of husbands. Every time I try to think of resignation a big lump rises in my throat and chokes me. I only want to mourn my lost love, my dear husband. " Two days ago I had written thus far, when I was interrupted by Ellen telling me that Dr. and Mrs. Ames were in the parlour, and if I did not go down they would come up stairs to see me. The good old doctor considers himself my spiritual adviser. At fifteen I joined his church, but dear Edward having a pew in Maple Street Church, I was not often there after my marriage. Down I went to see them. They had heard that I was going to Elmsdale. I believe Dr. Campbell told my friends as I am sure I do not know whether I am going or not, I feel no desire to go out of this house. They bade me good bye, the doctor remarking, ' Your lost one is waiting for you in heaven, your presence there is necessary to complete his happiness.' That is no good to me while I am here in misery. " Monday, May. — Yesterday I was coaxed out to hear the Rev. Dr. Ames. I forgot the text, but in his sermon he up- braided the recklessness of public companies, shewed in his prayer the little regard they had to human life, and besought AT HOME. the Lord to punish the guilty, and send the reign of peace upon the earth, and concluded his discourse by reciting Whit- tier's—' The Master.' " I could not enjoy the service, it seemed so cold, so useless. I felt more solitary than usual. How George and Dr. Ames differ in preaching and conversation. George very seldom mentions Edward's name, and yet they were fast friends, while the doctor's conversation is all about him and his employments in heaven. He is sure all the great and good men of our nation have met and welcomed him. That his mother and mine are delighted to have him, and are striking a louder note of praise to God for this new blessing. I cannot believe that aunty will be glad, when she must know that I am so miserable. Then he says, ' in view of all this happiness, I should be happy, or, at any rate, resigned and tranquil' I confess I do not see it in that light, and if the doctor was in my place, it might make a change in his views. I feel so hardened at the thought that I almost hate a God, so selfish as to tako my Ross away. He so manly and so noble, doing so much good in the church and country. " To-day another letter from my brother. I must confess, George is a puzzle to me. I cannot understand him, and I will write and tell him to say what he means. I once could understand how the abandoned, the drunkard, the atheist, and unbeliever, might turn to Christ by forsaking their sins ; but myself, for instance, who was a church member long before I was married. What more can I do ? What does George ex- pect me to do ? Auntie wished me to join the communion. Dr. Ames urged especially the young to join the church, as the society had expended a very large sum in repairing and en- larging the building, some fruit for this outlay was expected. I communed, but communion made me neither more nor less a if I' 'f if d THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. l!i Christian. Auntie's text was, ' He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord.' Our house was noted for beggars. I often gave to get rid of them. " Edward was always hunting up some hapless son of folly, introducing him to Christian Associations, and providing him with work, or praying in cellar or attic with some old creature. How he, the scholarly man, could do so, was often to me a wonder. I used to toll him that he wor^-ed out his piety, while I paid mine in greenbacks. " Let me think, I was :oing to write George. 'Boston, May 15th, 1866. ' Dear Brother George, — Why do you write such letters to me? I, that have been deprived of my rest, my joy, my husband. I have no one to weep with me, no one seems to understand me. Oh, for a loving heart, a friendly arm on which to lean. * I will go to Elmsdale, or any place to which my medical adviser may see fit to send the children. * Your afflicted Sister, 'Mary.' 'Elmsdale, May i8th, '66. * My Dear Sister, — Yo s of the 15th duly came to hand. We were all overjoyed to hear you are really coming to Elmsdale. Christina and Le*ia are making ready a room for their cousins. Fulton has planted a flower bed for each of them. * Our hearts bleed tor you. He who wept over the grave of Lazarus weeps for you. He whose human heart was strengthened by Mary's love and sympathy when she poured the ointment on him, which anointed him for his burial, is He not able and willing to comfort you, his poor afflicted one. Throw yourself fearlessly upon Christ. Let Him be * your rest, your joy, your husband. ' *It seems the easiest, it is the most difficult thing to believe in God. Do not trouble yourself about that, believe Christ as you used to believe in Edward when he said *7W/^.' A little word, but what magic was in it, how you rested on it. Life must be a life of faith. Jesus is near you. 1 1 ill' AT HOME. he poor, jgars. I of folly, ing him creature, to me a ty, while [866. > me ? I, no one to J heart, a r may see RY.' '66. were all nd he'\a. a flower IS weeps )ve and him for ed one. |ur joy, Do lieve in s in it, r you. There is an unknown might, to yourself unknown, which will awake when you w/// it, as * 7vt/i:^ awakens a strength, a desire to clinr, to rest, securely on a husband's arm, so cling to Jesus. 'Mary was the first to realize that Jesus was the promised One, the Messiah, the Prophet, V'riest and King, cling to Him as she clung. Rest on Him as she rested, l.ove and adore Him as she loved and adored. * Let your grief be like Peter's, having an element of hope in it. Hope springing from this fact that God's hand is in your grief In Mary's tears se// was not there, they fell for a suffering God. ' Nothing here is disappointment if rightly understood. Live by faith. The city which hath foundations is built in the heart of man. ' I hope to see you veiy soon in Elmsdale. While our children are amusing themselves, we can, as we used to do at the dear old homestead, wander by the river side, rest on a mossy log, gaze on the deep blue of the heavens, watching to see the first star appear, and as one by one they come out, vainly striving to count all of them. Thus the weary, bereaved, fainting Christian leans upon the God-man, rests upon Him, and looks up to the starry canopy of immortal life, vainly trying to number the things which God liath prepared for those that love Him. ' Your loving Brother, 'George Grey.' " So George answers my letter. Still it is the old, old story with him. Jesus, on Jesus. As a child I enjoyed a woodland ramble very, very much ; but after I met Ross, love of every thing merged into love for him. Nothing was enjoyable with- out him. Books, music, money — all, all, is nothing without you, my husband. Oh ! my dear, dear." "How sweet the memories of the years we spent together, how short. The thought that he might die, which often intruded an unbidden guest, was the only bar to perfect happiness. I will answer George's letter. 'Boston, May 20th, 1866. 'Dear George, — Tell Winifred I will have all packed, and ready to start next week. ' What on earth do you mean by faith? and Peter? and Mary ? What are 10 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. •i« they to mc ? What unknown might can be in your poor broken hearted sister. «Mary.' 'Elmsdalk, 23rd May, 1866. 'Dear Mary, — Winnie is pleased to hear that your f reparations are in such a state of forwardness. I will go down to escort you home, every one of the family sends their most loving wishes. I hope you may be ready to leave on Monday. * As to faith, faith as defined in theology is a receiving and resting on Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit persuading and enabling us to do so, as He is freely offered to us in the gospel. This persuasion is the motive power — while faith is the most common principle of daily life, called by men pru- dence, enterprise, or any other name you choose. Faith in religion is the same principle as faith in worldly matters, differing only in its object. ' When you tell your boy to give up the candy, because if he s'aould eat it, he will be sick, and he obeys you, the child acts on faith. Faith in your word. Faith is the most powerful principle in the breast of man, because it is the most human. By faith in steam we trust our lives in an iron ship over a trackless sea. By it we tmst our property to utter strangers. We ring our friend's door in perfect assurance that the door will open. You wrote me a letter in faith that you will receive an answer. 'Your butcher, or your baker's faith in your ability to pay enables you to contract a debt. The same faith prompts them to collect it. ' The different degrees in faith I will not mention, as I expect to see you so soon, and then we will have time to discuss the other points in your letter. ' Yours fraternally, 'George.' "May 25. — My trunks are packed. George has come. Ellen is to remain as housekeeper. " The children seem happy to go, their father's death is soon ic otten by them. They are delighted with uncle George. Thirza sits on his lap, George hangs over his chair. He neither talks to them about their father, or yet about being good. " Thirza rushed into my arms to-day exclaiming, * Mamma, AT HOME. II roken hearted uncle says that my big good father has lots and lots of good things to give his little ones/ and, lowering her voice to a whisper, added, * Jesus come one day, long, long ago into people's houses, the same as any other man, and lifted the little ones in his arms and blessed them. He loves me, too, mamma, he told uncle George he did.' " " Yes, poor pet. Why did he take papa? " I must drop my pen. Mr. Sprague, dear old grandpapa, he was George's step-father, is coming to drive us to the station, I hear his voice, he may be coming to breakfast with George." " Ellen," said Mr. Sprague, lifting up Thirza for a kiss, " are the trunks ready ?" " Yes, and dinner is waiting," she replied. " Dinner, Ellen ; dinner at ten ?" " M.S. Ross has not breakfasted yet," replied Ellen, " and Mr. Grey took his at five ?" Mr. Sprague went leisurely up the broad staircase, and re- turned with Mrs. Ross. The meal was a good one, and all seemed to enjoy it. The trunks are gone. The children are on the door step in high glee. Mrs. Ross takes one glance around the silent room, leaning on Mr. Sprague's arm. Ellen, with apron to her face, stands in the door. Mr. Grey lifts in the children, steps up beside the driver, the impatient horses obey the loosened rein. All are off, without giving Mrs. Ross time to bid good-by to Ellen, which had been one of the trials in prospect, or even to take a last look at the dear old home to her so full of sad, yet sweet memories. x 12 THE TWTLTGHT OF FAITH. .^1 CHAPTER II. THE JOURNEY. " The earth is the Lord's." HAT a din," murmured Mrs. Ross, as she leaned on Mr. Sprague's arm at the station. Her brother S'l^^ leads the children up and down the broad platform, pausing in their walk to throw her a kiss, or to look at some object which takes their eye. *' Will you go into the ladies' room ? " " No, thanks ! Let us watch this crowd. It seems to me so extraordinary that human beings can be so eager and so anxious," said Mrs. Ross. Ir. Sprague smiled, as Mrs. Ross began to look interested. Surely, thought the lady, something very unusual is going on, when even Mr. Sprague, the clear, cool, unimpassioned old man, whose iron grey hair, tall figure, and faultless fitting drab clothing, was so quaker-like, is suddenly animated over a rare flower which has been injured by the owner's careless- ness. " I often wonder how a man can be so careless of his own interests," said the astute lawyer to Mr. Grey. "I," replied Mr. Grey, " often wonder how men can care so well for their interests in this world, and neglect the interest of their never dying souls." " The man, who will not care for the things he sees, is not, as a general rule, very likely to heed what he does not see, I should think," replied Mr. Sprague. THE JOURNEY. '3 " My friend," said Mr. (irey to the owner of the flower, "are ^ou growing in grace, or is your soul uncared for." " A man," he replied, " may speak very little about his soul, ^et be very anxious about his future state." The bell, a puff or two, a rumble. Mr. Sprague and his friend with the flower lift their hats to the children at the win- low, then walk away in earnest conversation. The train moves taster and faster, out of the station into the suburbs, through [he gardens, past the hedgerows, over the main road, above the travellers — looking down on the onion plots and asparagus )eds, and rows of early lettuces and to latoes, and pretty Iwelling-houses, with green sloping terraces: and early flowers ^n full bloom, and snow like spots of apple and cherry blossom. Mrs. Ross and Eddie occupy one seat. Thirza sits by her mcle, opposite to them. Mr. Grey tried to engage his sister in :onversation, she was too sad to talk. He then turned to the lan on the opposite seat, who had been trying to catch his jlance. The stranger offered him a slip of paper, which Mr. ^rey read and gave to Eddie. With no small degree of surprise, Mrs. Ross remarked it ^vas a tract. " How funny," to give a tract to a clergyman. She listened for a moment to them talking about the duty of ^'very one to offer somebody and accept something. Now and then she caught the words " future state." " If every one were like me," mused Mrs. Ross, " they would [have enough to do to think of their present state. Did I, do I ever think of a future state ? I used to do so when the light- ning flash of thought, in the agony that Edward might die, passed through my mind. Then I thought of a. future state, now I realize it in the sad word widow, I must look out of I the window to hide my tear stained cheek. " How strange to see the country after being shut up a whole M THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. ill year. T^st year a tnp to Elmsdale was planned. Oh ! if Ross were only here, only with us. I go, he sleeps the long dream- less sleep in the city of the forgotten. Ross, Ross, I will ever think on you. " Edward always enjoyed an excursion. When I look on the country as the train glides along, I fancy he must be near to me. I can almost photograph this lovely scenery and i)leasai.t summer day for his sake. Mrs. Bleak's dream may be true, and Edv/ard's being one near a blessed reality. " Mrs. Bleak, nursing her dying son-in-law, whose wife had died some years before, one night dreamed that she stood in a beau- tiful garden filled with roses, while away in the background thousands and tens of thousands of angels were ascending and descending. Sweeter music than that of mortals she heard, and saw two angels fold their glittering pinions and stand near her, the very personification of angelic loveliness. " She recognized them as the mother and wife of her dying friend. The latter, her daughter, said, * Mother/ in the sweet voice of other years, while her face beamed with heavenly rap- ture. Mrs. Bleak felt she was in Paradise. Her Sarah told her that they were the sick man's guardians, watching him day and night with you. ' Where we are now you cannot come, soon we will all be here.' Then spreading their glittering wings, shining with heavenly dew drops, they rose, singing, * Hallelujah to the Lamb.' Away they sped beyond the flowers, descended among the glorious hosts who caught the heavenly chorus, * Glory, glory, glory to the Lamb.' " Strange that the country should make me think Edward near to me in the spirit of that dream." The road is only a short distance from the sea, but the ocean is concealed from view as the train skirts the edges of the coves, the shingly beaches curving in and out between the woody sloj are the I patcl sa)- •h ! if Ross 3ng dreani- I will ever ook on the be near to id pleasant le true, and fe had died in a beau- ackground jnding and she heard, stand near her dying the sweet venly rap- iarah told g him day lOt come, glittering singing, le flowers, heavenly Ivard near pe ocean le coves, woody THE JOURNEY. 15 slopes. Rocks are seen bare and grey yonder. Here rocks are covered with sweet fern, or mossy green brakes, mixed with the pretty white blossoms of the trailing blackberry and smooth patches, which suggest wild strawberries. Around the loose boulders huge thistles spread their prickly leaves, and defiantly nod their spiked heads. The slopes of the rudd are variegated with ox-eyed daisies, and golden dande- lions. Patches of very green clover, promise the wild bees honey, at no very distant day. The broad leafed moosewood bearing bunches of magnificent white blossoms are on the knolls in fine relief to the trembling aspens in their three vary- ing shades of green leaf. White thorn, sumach, wild cherry and tall blackberry bushes flower among the poplar and hickory trees, which are skirted by spruce and fir of many shaded hues. The train stops. In a moment it snuffs, snorts, puffs, and is again rushing onward. Mrs. Ross notices that the children are quiet, that the man with the tracts has given place to a stranger. A tall, thin, sallow man. The thin man talks. Mr. Grey listens. The subject is death. A man has been killed by a passing train — a mis- placed switch the cause. Mrs. Ross shudders, but fascinated listens, as the stranger remarks in a real nasal drawl, " Wa'll, in my opinic n death is a final sleep. Man is dead that is an eend on him." " Is that your opinion, and whence did you obtain it?" said Mr. Grey in reply. " Wa'll, that's real mean. Where do any man get opinions ? They are his own of course. I never expect to see any of my dead folks again. Stranger, do you?" " Yes. And my opinion is founded on the Bible. I must sa)-, and it is the -experience oi'my soul, that the expectation of J : n vi I I il i I i6 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. t I I' r { \ 1 i ■* I i ! ) 1 , ; i ;i loving my friends in heaven, principally kindles my love to them on earth. If I thought that I should never know, and conse- quently never love them after this life, I should number them with temporal things and love them as« such. Now I delight- fully converse with my pious friends, in a firm persuasion that I shall commune with them for ever. I also take comfort in those that are dead, as absent, believing that I shall shortly meet them in heaven, and love them with a heavenly love." " Now your talk makes me feel queer. I have not heard that since I was home down East. I don't believe it now. i let it and my British loyalty both slide — it is " " Pea Nut Station." The thin man rose, looked around in alarm, and rushed from the car as it was in the act of moving off. Mr. Grey took Eddie on his lap, and Thirza sat by her mother. Mrs. Ross again sought the windows ; on, onward sped the train ; through very pretty woodlands, low branched cone- shaped pines, bunchy hemlocks, totally unfitted for any use except shade or fuel ; past sunny spots, where once stately trees had stood, but now bristHng v/ith tangled masses of groux.d cedar. Away in the back ground, far, far away, long ledges of grey hills, rock, and tree, blend and mingle with cloud land. Another station ; another glimpse of factory, church and college. The train is off again, moving slowly through this cul- tivated country, at this siding leaving passengers, at that one a car. Broad, shady, leafy trees surround the dwellings. Sun- burnt faces look up from hoe and plough as the train passes them. A horse in a team rears and plunges, a brook gurgles around loose rocks, and hides in a small lake. The trees on a little islet grow double, mirrored in the clear water, while dark THE JOURNEY. 17 to them id conse- ber them '. delight- m that I mfort in I shortly ove." 3t heard now. 1 led from by her ped the d cone- my use stately Lsses of ly, long le with ch and his cul- t one a Sun- passes ^^urgles ,'s on a c dark flickering shadows, sporting in the noontide, darken and sweep its smooth surface. The air in this swamp is fragrant with resinous aroma, from hacmatac and cedar which shade the red-veined pitcher plants. From the cool fragrant swamp the train speeds away into a fine agricultural district, dotted with neat houses, ample barns, arable lands, cattle and sheep in the pastures. Hawthorn hedges, like snowdrifts, divide the green clover and grain fields. Orchards and ornamental trees fragrant with blossom scent the air, robins flit on the fences, swallows cluster on the bare earth, or laden, hie to the eaves. Gradually the train is curving the hill, running through the intervales already waving their growing crop, puffing along the bank of a noble river, spanned by an handsome iron bridge, over which with slackened speed the engine passes, and rounding the opposite bank is caught a passing glance of steep ledges, worn by the water into most fantastical shapes, overhung with trees of great beauty. Clear tiny streamlets gurgle down the face of the mural bank, and feed a dark foaming brook at the bottom of the gorge. Beautiful silvery sapling beech and birch trees overhang this ravine; trailing plants start from the crevices in the bank. The landscape becomes more rugged. The uplands have a rolling undulating aspect. The fields are rough. The black stumps appear among the green grain. The houses are poor and far between. The whole country for miles and miles seems as if a fire had passed over it. Mrs. Ross looked around inside. Her brother was nodding, the children fast asleep. The unwearied conductor walked through saying in a clear voice " Tickets." The sleepers roused themselves. "Tickets for Elmsdale." Mr. Grey gave him the asked for tickets. Another puff", another scream, a stand U 1 I i8 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. Still, a Start, a run backward, a rasping, a clanking, a stand still. "Elmsdale !" said the conductor, " Home, my dears ; we are at home. Come children !" says Mr. Grey. Mrs. Ross had accomplished the dreaded journey m safety. She looked out and saw she was at a station in a large town. !l :! I ELMSDALE. 19 CHAPTER III. ELMSDALE. *' He leadeth the blind by a way they know not." |HE train stopped at the station. Fulton Grey came into the car, shook hands with his father, kissed the children, and assisted them into the carriage. Wearied with the journey, tired of the strange faces, Mrs. Ross was glad when George placed Eddie by her side, and taking Thirza on his seat, Fulton drove from the station. A short mile and they turn into a broad avenue, shaded by elms and horse chestnuts, and stop before an old fashioned two storey house. The broad, low wings on each side of the building were covered with a creeper — tree it almost seemed — intertwined with a prairie rose bush which had climbed from the trellis, over the verandah, and actually covered the front of the building with leaves and blossoms. Mrs. Grey and the three children, Christina, Lena and Everett, w^re at the door to welcome them. Mrs. Ross had in- tended to put her arms round Winnie's neck and have a real good cry, but, somehow, she could not find time, as Mrs. Grey seemed so intent on having them sit down to dinner, that with her own hands she actually changed the children's travelling suits, and brushed their hair. After dinner, Thirza and Eddie seemed quite at home. Mr. Grey, with Evvy on his shoulder, chased the other children up land down the hall. Such running, laughing, shouting! How they all enjoyed the frolic. Winnie said exercise like that would soon turn her lilies into roses. v I ■ * t. 1 5.71 i 20 THE TWILIGHT OK FAITH. " Poor dears ! Your aunt may well call your pale, waxen faces lilies. 1 believe I have n )t seen you run so fast for a year. This will be ir eed a new life for you, said Mrs. R." The next day Winifred walked with Mrs. Ross through the grounds. In spite of her sorrow, Mrs. Ross felt the quiet beauty around her. " How peaceful and how balmy the air. I prefer remaining Li the garden," she said to Mrs. Grey, who had been summoned within doors by the arrival of a visitor. She sat under the shade of a huge acacia and looked around lier. In front is a green clover field ', murmuring bees flit over it, seeking honey among the fragrant blossoms. Three terraces, closely shaven, sloped from the house, leaving a broad strip filled v/ith choice flowers. Between the flowers and the field > lay a broad gravel walk, or extension of the avenue. Opposite the front door rose a mound, bordered with thick silvery moss, and covered with numberless varieties of geraniums. Rustic baskets on high stands, filled with pretty trailing plants stood among the trees on the edges of the avenue. Creepers gay with blossoms swung in the wind, from the eaves of the lattice covered arbour which bounded the avenue. There the garden, enclosed by a rustic fence, extended to the bank of the river, on which, here, a steep red sand one clifl" rose rather abruptly, some hundred feet above the stream. From this bank, Mrs. Ross had a fine view of the Elmsdale River and the town, which lay on the upland, beyond the strip of rich green intervale which bordered the water. This town of Elms- dale had grown rapidly in a few years ; an extensive cloth manu- factory had been built on the river, and a large pottery opened in the vicinity. Mrs. Ross noted church spires and comfortable dwellings, A train with a long line of freight cars was dashing out of the i ELMSDALE. 21 covered way, and the lazy cows were standing in the shadow of the trees. She sighed, and her eyes rested on a row of bee hives which stood on a bench at her side. In and out, in and out, now hither, now thither, the busy bees ever seemed to be going. There was ample scope for them to gather sweets in the broad kitchen garden and the wide orchard, which extended behind the buildings and joined a grove of venerable trees which lay along the margin of the river. Tired of the bees, of the sunshine, and of the ceaseless activity around her, Mary Ross strolled to the door, and the irregularity of the house fixed her attention. It had been built at dififerent times. A broad hall extended along one side of the main building and opened into a verandah^ which ran round a low wing which was surrounded by the flower garden and al- most covered with trailing plants. The hall door was open. From the hall a handsome circular stair, lighted by a bay window, leads to the upper story. A large lamp, an old fashioned eight day clock, very ancient looking chairs, hat rack, deer's head and horns, with a bust of somebody filled the long space across the house. Mrs. Ross glanced at the parlour. The furniture of blue and gold, the soft carpet, the valuable oil paintings on the wall, the handsome mirror over the mantel, the single white lily in a vase; of water on the table pleased her. The sitting room was furnished with green rep, and had a handsome cabinet organ, with music books in the rack. The dining room and kitchen were built from the back of the house. The east wing contained two rooms ; and the west wing, opening into the hall, was her brother's study or library. Mrs. Ross entered this room, which extended the whole length of the building, and opened into the garden by a glass door. I'he bay window, half concealed outside by honey-suckle, and '!«a ' 22 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. !!,iSll m on the inside shut off by a heavj curtain, made the recess a cool and pleasant seat. The carpet was of a sober hue, and the chairs were of dif- ferent patterns and different shapes. A heavy mahogany table stood in the centre of the room. A large open fire place was hidden by a screen. Above the broad, old fashioned mantel hung an engraving ; on it stood a spy-glass and a microscope. A marble-topped stand in a corner held a small telescope. Maps, pictures and drawings, twines, grafting wax, pruning knives, were to be seen in half open drawers. A book-case, built against the wall from floor to ceiling, ex- tended across both ends of the room, besides the full cases in the recesses. Here are treasured the thoughts cf many men — the wise and the good. Here are recorded the words of many learned doctors of divinity — the old school and the new school. Here lie the weapons of the men who attacked the Church of Rome, side by side with the weapons of those who defended her. Here also, in those old tomes, are the fathers — the parents in very deed and word of modem thought and modern error, although their children own them not. Here are essays and reviews. Pamphlets on this, that, and the other subject. A complete set of Dickens' works was a present from a debating society. The English poets, also a present from a friend. And the American poets, in blue and gold, from a club, which presented them to their chaplain. With a pang, Mrs. Ross remembered that Mr. Ross had brought from Italy for her brother, that picture of the Ivxagda- lena which now hung over his study table. And those volumes, nicely covered with brown linen, were also his gift. Mrs. Ross turned from the shelf where Bacon and Buckle, with books on science, agriculture and horticulture, quietly lie, and stepped inside the curtain, closed it, and sank wearied into ELMSDALE. 23 the easy chair. A branch of wild briar and a bough of honey- suckle swung through the open window, petals of the blossoms fell softly on the carpet. The old clock in the hall struck ten, when Mrs. Ross heard her brother enter the study. The hum of conversation told her he was not alone ; and Mary Ross found herself a very unwilling listener to a very earnest conversation. " Have you," said Mr. Grey to his visitor, " any objections to urge against religion ? Is there any thing to prevent your becoming a Christian ? " " No. I have tried to become a Christian," was the visitor's reply. " How did you try ? " said the minister. " I hope to become a Christian before I die. I try every day," was the prompt answer. "What do you do? Tell me how you have tried. Let your pastor know all your efforts, so that he may be more fully able to counsel or warn you," said Mr. Grey. "I have gone to church, sabbath-school, bible class and prayer-meetings, yet I know I am as far off from Jesus as ever I was. I am quite discouraged," was the lady's answer, in a tone so sad, that it spoke real grief. Mrs. Ross began to listen earnestly. In the depths of her soul she wondered what more was required of any one. When her brother replied to the lady, Mary felt as if he had spoken to herself. " Then, you think that true religion consists in something more than prayer and going to church ? " " Yes. I must love to read my Bible. I think every day that to-morrow I will read, I will love the Scriptures ; but when the to-morrow comes, I am as far off as ever," was her very sorrowful reply. *' Is that all, is that all?" again asked the minister. # ! 24 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. "I must feel my sins, and believe in Jesus," she said. "Why not go to Jesus to-day? " said Mr. Grey. " To-day ! Ah sir, I am not fit," said she. " When Jesus said in words of sadness, * Ye will not come to me,' did he add any thing about being fit?" said Mr. Grey very, very earnestly. "But I have no faith," was her reply to this direct ques- tion. "It is your pride which prevents you," said Mr. Grey, making the word pride very emphatic. "Why ! Mr. Grey, I have nothing to be proud of." "Yet pride, and nothing else, keeps you from coming to Jesus Christ. The Psalmist says, ' The wicked, through the pride of his heart, will not seek after God,' " said Mr. Grey to her. "Oh ! Mr. Grey, I am quite sure /am not proud." " Tell me how you expect to be better?" asked the minister in a very gentle voice. " That is what I do not know. God is so angry with the wicked every day," she answered him. " Oh," replied Mr. Grey, " you say that as a general truth, but He is not only angry with the wicked every day. He is angry also with you. Every day you remain out of Christ the further you are from Him. The fact of your guilt is ever before God. His wrath abideth on you. Why not obey Christ?" " How am I to obey Him ? Mr. Grey." " Suppose a railway director sends an order along the line, ' if any brakesman finds a damaged or broken rail, stop ! Come to me, I have provided a way to repair it, so that you can reach the station in safety.' A conductor with this order in his hand sees a flaw ! a break ! What does he do ? Stop, and obey orders ? No ! no such thing. He begins tearing up the rails, ELMSDALE. 25 making the breach wider and wider. Would you think that man had common sense?" " That would be acting like a fool," she replied. " Yet such is your case. Every hour you put off coming to Christ you make the breach between God and your soul wider and wider," urged the minister, very seriously. " I know, Mr. Grey, I have broken God's law." " Do you think, my dear friend, God had an undoubted right to make this law?" " Yes, of course. God could make any law he pleased." " Then you will allow that it is the very law he ought to have made ?" said the ministei", very solemnly. " That it is. I see no reason to doubt," was the reply. " Now tell me have you a right, as an individual, to obey this law?" added Mr. Grey. " I think every one ought to obey the law of God," was her answer, spoken slowly but firmly. *' Must every law have a penalty?" said Mr. Grey. " Certainly," she replied. " Then cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in the book of law to do them. God says depart from me ye cursed," continued Mr. Grey, very solemnly. " Oh ! Mr. Grey," she exclaimed. " What am I to do? Wh.it is to become of me?" " What would you like to do?" said Mr. Grey. " I really do not know," was her reply. " Would you wish to stand this moment in the sight of God, as if you had never sinned ?" he asked. " That is impossible. I cannot now obey," she replied. " But to stand as if you had perfectly obeyed ?" asked Mr. Grey. " I wish I could do so. Oh, Mr. Grey, how can I ever stand before God?" she said in pathetic tones. •,( V is ^6 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. I^lll. " Nothing on God's part hinders you. You can be recon- ciled to God now if you choose. You can fulfil the whole law now, now" said Mr. Grey. " How? Mr. Grey. Do tell me how I can do it?" Mr. Grey replied, " By believing on Jesus. In this way you can fulfil the law acceptably in the sight of God. This belief in Jesus will fulfil it. Christ is the end of the law for righteous- ness to every one that believeth. There Jesus stands, offering you a free pass to the presence and favour of God. His hand is as outstretched to you as mine is, at the present moment, when I offer you this book. Will you take it ? As you see, the option of receiving or refusing it, lies with yourself You take the book ! and as you take it, so take Christ. Behold, now is the accepted time ! Now ! now is the day of salvation. ' I,' said Jesus, ' stand at the door and knock, if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in and sup with him. Surely this means now." " Are we sure of that, does it mean now?" she asked. " If you hear a knock at your hall door, do you finish what you may happen to be doing, or do you go to the door at once ?" enquired the minister. " I always answer the door bell directly," was her reply. " Then you never expect the visitor to wait, do you ?" " No, if I did make him wait, he might go away and never return," she answered quickly. " So," said Mr. Grey, " it is with Jesus. So with salvation. Now is the time. * Just as I am, without one plea, But that thy blood a s shed for me, And that thou biddest me come to Thee, Oh, Lamb of God, I come. ' These lines are, were, and shall be my only hope. I beseech you to make them your hope." ELMSDALE. 27 ii ii " But, Mr. Grey, how am 1 to believe ? That is my difficulty. That is the mystery to me !" " What mystery can be in it ? When I offered you this Bible, you stretched forth your arm, and took it from my hand. When your fingers were just ready to grasp it, could not I have laid it on the table and refused to let you have it?" " Yes ; if you had chosen you could have done so," she re- plied. " If you had thought I would not have given it to you, would you have stretched out your arm ?" No, Mr. Gray, I would not." Why did you stretch out your arm?" " Why, why ! because, because you offered me the book," she said very slowly. " Just so," said Mr. Grey. You had faif/i in my offer. Faith in my politeness. Let us say faith in my character. Faith that I would not offer what I did not intend to give. Is not that so?" " Yes," said the lady. *' Such is faith in God's offer." *' Yes ; but the book is something one can feel, hold on to, when one gets it," she said. " So you can feel Jesus Christ in your heart when you accept Him, receive Him, and rest upon Him. Your heart, which is now filled with terror, will then be filled with peace. Unrest will give place to rest," said Mr. Grey. " Oh, Mr. Grey how can that be?" she asked. " You will see that Jesus Christ so fully and so completely fulfilled the whole law, his righteousness so completely satisfied the justice of God, that for the past you have nothing to fear, and the future is secure in Him. There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, Surely no joy could be there, if m ■m 28 THE TWILIGHT OV FAITH. that sinner, at no very distant day, could be lost. Lost ! lost ! lost ! What pen can describe the agony. Lately a stately steamer, freighted with human life, had been out many days on a wintry sea. Anxiety grew intense. Hope deferred turned loving faces pale. One day word was flashed through the ocean that the lagging ship was safe. Flags waved, bells rang, guns fired. Tears stood in the eyes of brave men, youngsters shouted. All eyes turned to heaven in gratitude for the lost was found. Short lived the general joy. Keen disappointment and bitter grief settle on every face. The telegram was a cruel falsehood. No lie enters heaven. No soul in Jesus can be lost." *' What must I do in order that I may believe on Jesus? Oh, Mr. Grey, do tell me." " Open that Bible and read i John, fifth chapter and ninth verse. For in order to believe, you want not only to know how to believe, but 7a/iom you are to believe, as well as what you are to believe, and when you are to believe ; but also the sin of not believing, and what you are to get by believing," replied Mr. Grey. The lady read in a low tone, " If we receive the witness of men, the witness of God is greater." " That is just believing what is written in the Bible," the minister commented. " What next ?" " For this is the witness of God which he has testified of his Son, he that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself." " This means," said Mr. Grey, " that when you receive and rest upon Jesus Christ, believing and feeling that His obeying the law is the same in God's sight as if you had obeyed it your- self. The Holy Spirit enters your heart at the same time, per- suading and enabling you to embrace the Christ Jesus freely offered to you in the Gospel. Paul says * the Spirit witnesseth ELMSDALE. 29 with our spirit.' What this witness is you must learn by expe- rience, as it cannot be explained to you before you have it. Christ is the word or voice of God speaking ivithout the man. The Holy Spirit is the voice of God speaking within the man." " But, Mr. Grey, how are we to know the Spirit is near to us?" "he interrupted. " Do we not stand here on the earth with the heaven above us, on this earth rolling in space — space above us, space aro* id us, the bounds of the sky tc iching us ? So the Spirit lies touch- ing, as it were, our souls, but the spiritual in us is deadened by a life of sense. What we want is to become conscious of this uearness." " How ?" enquired the lady. "The condition upon which this Spirit reveals Himself is love. These things are prepared for them that love Him. This love is shown by obedience. Obedience is the form, love is the life of the form. ' He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me. He that loveth me not, keepeth not my sayings.' For such as love, it is prepared, or rather, they are prepared for this witness of the Spirit. This Holy Spirit is, and ever will be, a present help and comforter in every season of need." " How does He help us ? " she enquired. "As an experienced housekeeper who, moving into a new dwelling, finding the furniture in disorder, opens this package, unpacks that, and unrolls the other, tacks a carpet, hangs a picture, and restores the apartments to use, comfort and elegance ; so the Holy Spirit's office is to restore the sin disturbed affec- tions. It is His office to shew Christ Jesus in all His media- torial beauty and suffering. He elevates love to its proper position, fixes and keeps it on God the Christ. The Spirit is also for ever on the watch to guide, to guard, and to light the ' 30 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. ili^ soul, which, exiled for a time from its home in heaven, resides in the ^ody. Read the next verse ? " " He that believeth not God hath made Him a liar, because he believeth not the record that God gave of His Son." " Would you wish to make every one you meet when you leave this house believe that your minister is a liar?" said Mr. Grey, very abruptly. " Oh no, Mr. Grey, how could I be so wicked?" " But these words say if you believe not God you make him a liar ! What a daring deed for any worm of the dust to do ? Is it not an. awful thought to make the holy God a liar ? Think . of it? Ponder it well. You would not call me'a liar?" " How can any one do so ? Mr. Grey, do you mean that I have done so?" she said anxiously. " Now suppose we read it in this way : — This is the record that God hath given to George Grey eternal life, or to Lena Grant eternal life, and this life is in His Son. He that hath the Son hath life, and he that hath not the Son hath not life, God's first, best gift is Christ. He bestows all with Him or for His sake. As Christ is oifered freely now, accept Him 7io2v. As you are, accept Jesus, the only mediator between you and His Father. He is the brother for whose sake the heavenly Father forgives you every thing and gives you every thing. * Ye will not come unto me that ye may have life,' was the Saviour's sad complaint. He is at this moment saying, ' Lena Grant will not come to me. She is too proud ! To the meek, loving, contrite, obedient soul I become visible.' Let us pray." The silence which followed the prayer awoke Mrs. Ross who during the latter jart of the conversation had been sound asleep in the easy chair. She now started from her sleep, pushed aside the heavy-blossomed vines, and walked round the ELMSDALE. 31 m ■■%U m garden, to catch a glimpse of the visitor. She passed Mrs. Ross in the avenue. A tall, straight made woman of perhaps thirty. She had a sallow face, thick brows, dark hair and brown eyes, which seemed to have no particular merit, besides an honest serious look. Mary Ross was aroused, her curiosity was excited to know what sort of a sinner this woman had been. Some repentant Magdalene, no doubt, else George would not have spoken so plainly to her about being a sinner. At dinner, Mrs. Ross inquired of the minister about this lady, and to her great surprise, her brother informed her that she was a collector for one of the schemes of the church, who had called to pay him the money she had received, and to have a little conversation with her pastor about her eternal interests. " Then she was not such a sinner after all, George," said his sister. " Every human being without an interest in the Lord Jesus Christ is a sinner, and exposed to the wrath of God. All have broken God's holy law," replied her brother. " Why, brother, you do not mean to say all ? " ** Yes, Mary, all ! all I every one ! * There is not a just man on the earth who doeth good and sinneth not.' " " Is not God infinitely good, wise, glorious, and can thought, word, or deed, of these sweet, laughing children, romping on yonder green plot in all the innocence of their gentle natures, .either injure or incense Him ? What nonsense, my brother* God has made the trees, the flowers — all beautiful. The birds, the animals, enjoy this life, and why should not these little ones ?" *'Yes, Mary, my dear sister ; but you surely know that beau- tiful trees, sweet flowers, and uA this pleasant world, were made for sinless, not sinful, beings to enjoy. Beings who had not broken 09ie of God's holy laws." 'im f %2 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. rr "Why, George, this law, like yonder threatening thunder cloud, appeals to our fears, and is a present restraint ; but like the cloud, it is presently to dissolve and leave the forgiven spirit bathed in the glorious brightness of the loving kindness of God. Such is my view." " A very pleasing view it is, my dear Mary, only it lacks one very essential element," replied her brother. " What does it lack ? brother." "It has no foundation in the Bible. The Word of God- declares that the soul which sinneth shall die. There is not a just man upon the earth. All have sinned, consequently all die. 'Whoso keepeth the whole law, yet offendeth in one point, is guilty of all,' " replied Mr. Grey. " Why, my dear brother, I thought you were a more liberal Christian. Your theology is very, very old, totally unfitted to the liberal ideas of modern thought." " What am I to do, Mary. I am as liberal as the Bible is, when it declares that man broke the moral law, and that ruin, and death followed. Man sinned and hid himself from his Maker, from that loving Father who had made him holy and surrounded him with so many blessings." " O, George, you mean Adam, I suppose. What have we to do with Adam ? Why cannot you be more liberal ? " "So I can, my sister. It is my earnest endeavour to prove to every one the exceeding liberality of God in giving to us a Saviour, just the one suited to our wants. I can be a liberal in the offer of Christ the Saviour — a Saviour for every man. Jesus Christ came to redeem us, to buy back for us that fellow- ship with God which Adam lost, and destroy that fear which makes us, as well as it made Adam, hide from God." " George, was Jesus sent to hell ?" " No, Mary. It is true that Christ did not suffer eternal ELMSDALE. 33 destruction in hell, but he was a person so glorious, and so excellent — God's own Son — that his short sufferings were equal in value to our eternal agonies, so that in the eye of the law, and in God's account, Jesus has suffered all that you and I were condemned to suffer. So you see, my sister, that the law did not dissolve, but that justice was fully satisfied. So the sinner can say — '* ' Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.' " Come, Mary, a few miles up the river with me this after- noon, I go to teach a Bible class. And you shall have a drive through scenery that you will enjoy. I want you to see my Bible class — my outposts in which we train our youths for the service of Jesus." " Why, George, do you go five mues up the Elmsdale River to teach a Bible class ?" " Once a week," said the minister. " Yes," said Mrs. Grey smiling, " he likes to keep these out- posts well fortified." " I like to keep their swords sharp," said the minister. , " What swords do you mean ?" asked his sister. " The sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. And above all taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. Well, Winnie, I will put Belle into the double wagon, and you and Mary will both come to the Bible class today." " Not to-day, George, I expect company this afternoon. But I hope Mary will go, and I can look after the children." " Come, Mary dear, we must leave at three." c 34 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. CHAPTER IV. MY DIARY. " My days are wearisome to me." Uq HREE weeks since I came here, how quickly the time has flown! While I am so sad. Fifteen months since the death of my dear Edward. I thought, at that time, that I could never live without him. Per- haps I live for my children's sake; but I doubt it. The children enjoy themselves so nicely here. Their dear aunt takes the full charge of them. "Christine and Thirza are fast friends. They will be nine this month : both born the same day. Christine has hazel eyes, a pleasant, cheerful countenance, and lovely brown curly hair, which hangs in ringlets over her shoulders. Thirza is fair, plump, short, with light hair and blue eyes, just like her father's. "Everett Grey, the two-year-old baby, is a fine, chubby, roguish fellow ; at once the joy and care of the household. Joe Lutton is a fine boy of twelve, whilst Lena and her cousin Eddie, both five past, are constant playmates. What shall I say of my dear brother George, of whom I have seen so little for a number of years. I think the 'tribute' which I cut years ago from a paper is only his just due. " * Rev. Mr. Grey is a man in the prime of life, enjoying good health; a man of earnest conscience, wide in his range of thought, with a clear, logical intellect, jealous of the faith, mighty in the shorter catec'.iism, versed in all the searching tests and metaphys;: s of Jonathan Edwards, v, hile a copious MY DIARY. 35 imagination and a sympathy with men enable him to be their friend and counsellor when doubt assails their most rooted beliefs, or bold, unblushing scepticism invades the secret calm of their faith. He is the mourner's friend. " ' The great effort of his life is to prepare himself, and his people, for an eternity felt to be at hand, by a right discharge of the duties of time, and to bring his disposition and conduct towards those around him, up to the requirements of the Divine Law. He casts himself into the bosom of his Saviour, and gives himself up to all the duties of life, as one who has been fully and freely reconciled unto God through Jesus Christ.' " Mrs. Grey, dear Edward's only sister, is a tall, finely pro- portioned woman, with a quick, elastic step, a round, pleasant face, clear blue eyes, and natural curls, clustering round her head. Kind, good, gentle, busy sister ! The first night I came here, she came into my room, after the children had gone to bed, and George to his study, threw her arms around my neck, exclaiming, ' My dear brother, how I too miss him !' mingling her tears with mine. I began to love her. Somehow the sight of her tears dried mine. I went to bed and slept soundly — a comfort unknown to me since I read that telegram. " How busy Winnie is — every moment of her time seems so fully occupied. The housekeeping has the first place in her estimation. What delicious cake and pie she makes : crullers, brown, crisp, and dainty ; bread, light, moist, and well-baked ; every meal ready to a moment ; and she consults the wishes of all her household, and provides for their comfort. " The children also receive so much of her attention, she seems to have added mine to her number, Christine looked so nice in her white pique, that I allowed Thirza to have a suit of the same. They look like twin sisters in their white hats and suits. m 4' 36 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. n^'i Hi " She also attends the ' sewing circle' once a fortnight, and the ladies' weekly prayer meeting. All this, besides social visits. " She is very, very kind to me, but some way,, neither she nor George seem to measure my sorrow. Instead of mourning with me, they do all in their power to cheat me out of the only luxury left me — the luxury of grief. " George says, ' No balm for sorrow like recreation and exer- cise in the open air. Indulge not in vain regrets for the past, in vainer resolves for the future — act, act in the present. We may cling to our griefs, even more closely than to our joys, yet both elude our grasp. They are shadows, and, like shadows, they will vanish. But what will not leave, slip away and disap- pear from the minds of mortals ? The keenest feelings in this world time wears out. At last, our minds become like old gravestones, which have lost the words once deeply graven upon them.' " Last Sabbath was Edward's birthday. I had always con- trived some Httle surprise for him on that day. I felt it keenly: I could not get down to breakfast. " Winnie came up to my room, followed by Bridget, carrying a tray spread with all the niceties she could think of — white and brown bread, fresh butter, a new laid egg, nice cream, tea and coffee. I utterly refused to try to eat. Winnie coaxed me to tell her what was the matter. At last I asked her if she remem- bered whose birthday this was. " Her eyes filled with tears, and she left the room. I settled down into the easy-chair, and opened my Edward's large mini- ature which was painted in Italy, fully expecting to have the day to myself. " A gentle tap at the door dispelled this dream. In walked George, to have worship in my room, followed by Winnie, children, Bridget, and Rover. irfl MY DIARY. 37 "George read something about 'He was wounded for our sins, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray ; we have turned every one to his own way ; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth.' " ' We have turned every one to his own way,' — how these words have rivetted themselves on my memory. I cannot drive them out. " Winifred and the girls remained after prayers. * Get auntie's boots and lace them for her,' said Winnie to the girls. " The boots were brought, my slippers y^ere removed, and the lacing began, when Ev. came with his new shoe, to try auntie's foot. " The girls would not allow the poor fellow a chance of trying how his shoe would fit, and all of a sudden he grasped a hand- ful of hair, on each head. Both screamed, and all three rolled over the floor in a laughing, tearful heap. " I took the dear little fellow in my arms to soothe and calm liim, while Winnie smoothed the girls' tumbled curls. " Evvy spied the tray. A cake comforted him. The unwonted exertion brought my appetite. I ate and enjoyed my breakfast. " I had laid Evvy on the sofa for a nap, and was glad to see Winnie and the children go down the path without disturbing me, when Mr. Grey gently opened the door, saying in his quiet but firm tone, ' Come, sister, I am waiting for you.' "Forgetting every thing for the moment, except that a preacner must be punctual, I slipped on my bonnet while George was kissing his sleeping boy. I took George's proffered arm, and was at the church door when I recollected I had made up my mind not to go. * ; If 38 THE TWILIG^kT '6^" FAITH. " The day was hot, yet the house was cool and comfortable. " The congregation was large, and the seats were all free. " Winnie made room for me by her side. Mr. Grey went into the pulpit. " He began the services of the day by reading the hundredth psalm. I was awed when the large assemblage rose, and all sang to the finest of our old tunes, — ** *AI1 people that on earth do dwell, Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice ; Him serve with mirth, his praise foretell, Come ye before Him and rejoice.' , " Prayer followed : a prayer that seeined to be coaxing God to give the blessings sought ; a prayer that, if I had not known the speaker, I would have supposed him to be one of the most unworthy of men. His tones were those of abject unworthi- ness ; yet, somehow, they were full of trust and confidence in the assurance that the promised blessings were to be had for the asking. •' " Sermon followed from the text, ' Pray without ceasing.' I really forget where George told them to find the chapter and verse, but I remember there was quite a rustle of Bible-leaves. I wonder the minister did not stop this thing. The very idea of every one turning up the page in the book, as if they did not believe their pastor read the passage correctly. " Service over, dinner. Concert in the Sabbath-school, and sermon after that, fill up the afternoon, while in the evening, the society all meet for prayer-meeting and mutual exhortation. At this meeting, the minister may allow some one else to preside. " Much to my surprise, no one urged me to go out in the after- noon or evening. ' . *' For years I had been used to spend Sunday afternoons in MY DIARY. 39 reading the Reviews. I had made a point of going to Church with my dear husband in the mornings, sometimes in the even- ings ; but Sunday afternoons he was always busy with Sabbath school or missionary work. " Now I loathe the very sight of a review or magazine. Feel- ing a little lonely when they were all absent this afternoon, I went into the library, opened novel and review, but read I could not. Such books, I find, can yield no solace to a crushed and sad heart." »'■■ 40 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. CHAPTER V. I'iiiii SUNDAY EVENING. '* He setteth the solitary in families." ^^^^fisft^' ^'^^y ^"^^ i" the easy chair in the study window, enjoying the light of the full moon. His wife and I sister joined him. The children had given the good night kiss and gone to bed. Mary reclined on a lounge in the moonlight. The soft moon- light showing the pallid and sad face more touching than in the day. " George," said she, very abruptly, " what was your text to- day?" " Pray without ceasing," was his reply. " You made a statement which was at variance with Scrip- ture." " Indeed ! Mary dear, what is this grave and most weighty charge ?" " You said prayer moves the hand which moves the world." " Of that I have no doubt," replied Mr, Grey. *' I am sure the Bible will not prove it, my dear brother." " Do you not believe that the Bible says the prayer of faith will prevail ? " This assertion aroused his sister, her apathy was gone. With an animation which reminded her friends of the Mary she used to be, she turned to her brother and demanded. *' How ? How am I to believe that, as a Bible doctrine. How can prayer make any difference with God, when all things move by unmovable laws?" SUNDAY EVENING. 4» ith *' Yes, Mary dear, * If any man shall do my will, he shall know of the doctrine,' Jesus tells us." This answer astonished and slightly piqued his sister. "Pshaw ! George, why shirk the question. What has doing the will of Christ to do with the laws of the universe?" " Much, everything," replied Mr. (Irey. " But," interrupted Mary, " what do you make of this fact that all creation ol)eys law ? The flowers scent our evening air with the same odours which rose on the gentle zephyr in the world's first summer. Yon oak is forming its acorns, yonder pine maturing its cones, and that humming-bird has fashioned its nest on the lilac bush, in the same way precisely as in the primal Eden woodlands." " I know it, Mary." " Seed of grain and grass, flower and fruit, were bound with a law-abiding fetter, which six thousand years has been unable to break. This Scripture and science alike prove." " The proofs, my dear sister, where are the proofs?" " Why, George, do men gather grapes from thorns ? Never. On the certainty of this law depends the hopes of man. Yes- terday we watched the bubbles which the children blew from the straw, sailing upward, beauteous mimic globes, dyed in rainbow hues. Suppose in answer to prayer, one had left its upward track, land for one instant rolled along the ground. They, in their eagerness to launch a new one, might never notice this vagrant from the upward path. Suppose a philoso- pher were to see it, the sight would blanch his cheek and un- nerve his arm. It would whisper to him that the laws of gravitation were broken, the streams would cease to flow, the sea spurn its long-kept bounds, the mountains would lose their balance, the planets rush wildly from their beaten path, earth falter in her course, and all life be destroyed. No danger of i* 42 THF, TWILIGHT OF FAITH. that. law still surrounds us. The world is safe. Thank (jod for that. Law is the safety of the universe — broken, it falls to ruin." " Now, see here, Mary, it is not needful that God interpose to change natural laws." "Why?" " Because the answer to prayer proceeds from the foreseen circumstances, that your prayer will be ofifered." " Then suppose we do not pray ? Or does God compel us to pray, so as to have the law unchanged ? " If you refuse to pray, you shall assuredly find it fixed, that no answer will be given," replied her brother. " But why ? How ? For if God compel us to pray, we are not free agents. I can't understand what you mean, George?" " All departments have their own laws. You can understand that. Be temperate and chaste — laws of the body — which, if obeyed, will give health. Obey the mental laws, you know the results. The spiritual being has laws as well as the physical. But in this spiritual world sensible experience is powerless. Obedier or self-surrender is the sole organ by which we gain a kr" ,. of that which cannot be seen or felt. ' Eye hath n( ii nor ear heard.' The law or condition annexed to a sense of God's presence is obedience to the laws of love. If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and His love is perfected in us. ' If any man love not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not seen. Whoso loveth not his brother, the love of God dwelleth not in him.' Again, obey the laws of purity — a pure heart and life. ' Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.' To the impure, God is simply invisible. By a prayer of self surrender, giving all up, merging our will into God's will, we may know SUNDAY EVENING. 43 more than all the isms can teach. We can be sure that Christ is our Redeemer." "Stop ! George, all are not sure of that !" "Why, Mary?" " Because all, unlike your bird making her nest by a law, they will not obey. None can attain knowledge and spiritual wis- dom apart from obedience ; and there is not one who can sur- render self, and in all things submit to God, and yet fail of spiritual convictions. God is not arbitrary — saving some and not saving others. But all are under this one law — this light that lighteth every man that c ometh into the world. * If any man will do His will he shall know." "How obey? How do His will? It is not a chance, fitful obedience, which leads us to the truth ; we must be in earnest, always willing. And it is not in the Bible ' docs His luill^ but '«//// do^ — has the mind to do, resolves, has the spirit and desire, being in earnest. Act, be merciful, gentle, honest ; try to do good to others, be true ; do the duty you do k.iow, and by all the laws of the human heart, by the word of God, you shall not be left to doubt that prayer moves the hand which moves the world." " Not so fast, my dear brother. Say, Winnie, can you under- stand him ! He mixes law, duty, acting, while I wanted to know how the prayer of faith can change any law of any kind, and bring the answer." " My dear sister, prayer and its answer are hot connected as cause and effect. If it were so, we might become either proud or inactive. Yet, while there is most certainly a connection between prayer and its answers, connection is not in the mechanical laws of nature, but in the counsels of God." " How do you mean ?" " We pray, look for the answer, t*.iQ feel that we must fall in m, 44 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. •11 with the Divine will, as we know not the means God may em- ploy to send the answer. The blessing comes by the special appointment of God, and the request must be agreeable to His will." " Well George, suppose the prayer were in all things agree- able to the will of God, the answer might not come for a thousand years ! God has not promised immediate answers." " The conversion of our child, or of our friends, must not be delayed for so long a time. Now, Mary, you know that is only a useless cavil," " But God has set no time for an answer. Is not that so, George?" " Even so, my sister. And that is our sure ground of hope for a speedy answer. You well remember that always closing sentence of our dear father's prayer : ' Unto Him who is able to do for us abundantly above all that we can ask or think ;' let us commit our all to him. A child left in a burning house hears a voice calling from below, jump from the window ! She hesitates. Beneath is darkness, behind the crackling, roaring flames, around her thick choking smoke. Jump, my child, jump. She hears, she knows her father's voice ; obedient to it she jumps, and is clasped in her father's arms, rests on his bosom and is safe." " That was faith, George ! Neither prayer nor law." " If the child had not the power to cry she had the desire. It is one of the laws of nature, implanted deep in the parent's heart to preserve his offspring from danger. How is this done ? By the prayers of that offspring, though its only language may be a ' cry.' In obediencv^ to this law, the meek sheep becomes fierce, the lioness springs 'ixto the huntsman's camp, the hen attacks the mastiff, and the stupid goose becomes an animated and desperate adversary, in answer to prayer vocal or mute. More li . »T#! SUNDAY EVENING. 45 things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Ask and ye shall receive, and the answer may be traced by ourselves and by no one else. The heart has joys no stranger meddles with." Mary made no answer. Mrs. Grey opened the organ and played a chaunt :—<' Come unto me all ye who labour and are heaven laden, and I will give you rest ; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Mr. Grey remarked, " That in the couise of his ministerial experience he had found people more ready, more willing, to carry than to give up their burdens." The clock struck, and Mary bade her friends good-night. At breakfast on the following day, Mr. Grey renewed his offer to take his wife and sister up Elmsdale River to the Bible-class, at Maypole Brook, in the afternoon. Mrs. Grey declined, but urged Mary to go. it , * ,- 46 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. '1' ,?^^ CHAPTER VI. MAYPOLE BROOK. " Line upon line, j recept upon precept." ||i|INIFRED had visitors. The children were playing in the garden. Mrs. Ross sat in the arbour covered with honeysuckle. The children's light laugh came like a joyous ipple, through the lattices. Could she blame them for obeying that kind law of nature, which streams sunshine over the shadows of the grave. It belongs not to the blessed season of childhood to hug to the heart useless griefs. This thought made her more sad. She loved to be alone : for then images of the " well beloved," frequent visitors, come and go, in the meditative hush of solitude. Often Edward seemed to stand before her, and she felt she could not be deceived, until some sudden opening of a door, some call of the children, startles the love-raised form, and the grief-begotten spirit dissolves into thin air. Now she was pleased to be a few moments alone. But was she alone? She had crushed a great black spider, and his widowed wife was running over her dress in distraction and despair, silently bewailing the loss of a husband, which had always provided for her comfort, as the buzzing of that great black fly in the half-torn web testified. She had only succeeded in driving away the spider, when Winnie came to inform her that her brother was waiting for her Mr. Grey was seated in a nicely cushioned buggy. The light top excluded the sun. Mrs. Ross was soon by his side. the rea vval An whj pin pre ll Cr) incl mij MAYPOLE BROOK. 47 it was id his and had great when )rher The IS side. Mr. Grey turned into a new road lately cut through a wood. This was a drive the minister always enjoyed ; a road which " Belle" always travelled slowly. Along the half-cleared road- side, tall raspberry and blackberry bushes gave promise of much fruit. The trees grew closely together, although comparatively small, when compared with some denizen of the forest, which had outlived its compeers. In some places, underbrush ex- cluded the sun's light ; in other places, little saplings grew sparsely under the large trees.' Small silvery-leaved beeches and oaks, whose glossy green foliage hid the tiny acorns, grew among little spruces and sapling poplars. Cradle hills, formed by the windfalls, raising much of the soil in which they grew, were gay with weeds, which, if cultivated, would produce flowers as fine as many which grow in gardens. The surface was very uneven ; here a narrow ravine with steep, rugged sides ; there a little pond or lakelet ; moss and lily leaves dancing and cling- ing around the logs, in the margin. Old leafless, barkless grey trees, resting places for the crows, stand among clumps of alders and chokecherry bushes, in the edges r<" the swampy borders. Frogs enjoy the pleasant sunshine, resting among the logs, their broad white throats distended like professional singers' — ready to utter " oah, oah," and plunge with a gluck into the water, among the tall, slim, green stalks of the reeds and rushes. Anon the road crosses a clear, cool, sparkling, gravelly brook, which abounds in trout. Near the edge of the stream is an old pine stump, as large as a drawing-room table, with a softer, prettier covering than table ever wore. It was a mausoleum such as never blest a sculptor's dream. Cryptogamia with little scarlet hat-shaped tops, fully one half inch in height, covered its surface ; grey and pale green lichens, mixed with bright yellow fringe, creep down the sides, and the 48 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. ite'i f '< ■ greenest of green mosses hide the roots, except a great white one, bared in making the road, which has the green leaves, red creepers, and white blossoms of a strawberry plant thrown over it. On the gravelly ridge pine trees grow ; small when com- pared with that stump. The fragrant resin filled the air. A soundless carpet of needle-shaped leaves, which never more would rustle in any wind, was spread beneath the pines. Next to the ridge, hemlock and deciduous trees grew side by side, making a pleasing variety. Now they come upon a half-cleared open space, where, among the stumps and brush, grows the trailing arbutus or mayflower, its deep green, smooth, glossy leaves, nestling in the moss ; the sweetest, earliest flower that opens to the northern sky. Its delicate petals were now faded and brown. In spring, the pure pink and white blossoms, in little clusters, hidden under the leaves, often covered with snow, are the fairest, sweetest-scented of all our flowers. "They seem ' like that piety, which is nursed by adversity,' " remarked Mr. Grey, as he presented to his sister a spray of the sear leaves and faded blossoms which he had gathered for her. While George was gathering the leaves, a hawk was sailing above the trees, a wood-thrusli filled the woods with its solitary ecstasy ; while a beautiful woodpecker, on a decayed tree, would give a peck or two, turn up his eye in the most inquisi- tive manner, run up and down the trun!;s, showing his lovely mottled breast and long bill. Squirrels chatter, some with rest- less eye, and tails over their backs, while others run up and down the windfalls. From the brow of the hill is a good view of the valley of the Elmsdale. How graceful those elms which dot, border, and fringe, the intervales. In grandeur and grace, beauty and majesty the elm is unrivalled. Along the margins of the river, these venerable trees are magnificent colonnades, massive tower- 9 ill iib m MAYPOLE BROOK. 49 in iling ftary :ree, ^uisi- )vely Irest- and If the and and river, )wer- ing trunks, their facile elastic tops swaying in the wind. Leafy perystyles around the red man's forgotten habitations. Robins with unruffled plumage flit on the twigs. Bobolinks skim care- lessly over the grass, or, lighting on a tuft of meadow sweet, swing, and sweetly sing. Small rivulets from the upland wander- ing through the intervales, their course marked by alders and wild-roses, vary the sameness of the grassland. The upland is variegated by the colour of the grass, grain, and pasture. Behind the clearing, rises the forest, which once extended in stately grandeur over v.; plains, and now stretches defiantly over the distant hills. Here is the school house, standing in the rear of a spacious play ground, from which the village is hidden by a beautiful grove. The scholars laughing, running, shouting, scatter over the play ground. The girls gather in twos and threes ; return, linger around the door, saunter down the path, or Hopscotch on the broad platform. A big boy takes the minister's horse to the shade. He shakes hands with all around him. Mr. Grey enters the house, and takes the teacher's seat at the desk. The bell sounds. The seats are filled, order and quiet ra- pidly succeed fun and frolic. A globe is on the desk, and near it a small vase of wild flowers. A map of Palestine is open on the wall. Bible class scholars are nearly all grown up. A little boy here for the first time sits by his sister, and watches one who roguishly pulls the girl's hair who sits before him. About forty are present, some of another denomination, who " don't stay," linger and listen outside. Mr. Grey rises, the class also rise. In a clear pleasant con- • so THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. versational voice he says, " Let us pray," and ^beseeches God to give them the hearing ear and the understanding heart. Prayer ended, the " subject " is the state of the world, when Christ came. " John, my boy," said Mr. Grey to a small lad, " point out on the map where Christ was born." The spot was at once indi- cated. " Now point to the then capital of the Roman empire," said Mr. Grey. "Rome." " Name boundaries ?" " All the known world." '* Did it include America?" , " No." " How had Rome become mistress of the World ?" "She conquered it." By a reference which the children understood, Mr. G. shewed how many divided States could be united under one govern- ment. Rome had politically made the nations, from the con- fines of Europe along the Mediterranean sea to the coasts of Britain, one nation. The Forum at Rome was the centre of imperial power, and magnificence. From it all the roads to all the provinces radiated. Their national life presented three great varieties. The Jew, the Greek and the Roman. The idea of law had grown with the growth of the Roman power. Strength and order marked her sway. Peace and taxation pervaded the then known world. All religions were tolerated, the woad-stained savage, on the banks of the Thames, throwing his laughing babe, im- prisoned in a basket, into the flames, the polished Greek adoring the creations of his own cultivated taste, the devou t Jew chanting, " In my distress I cried to God. He bowed the ^s 'Riff' MAYPOLE BROOK. 51 Their the Ith the id her lid. re, on im- rreek ievou t jd the heavens and came down, because he was wroth, the founda- tions of the hills were moved, the earth trembled and shook, fire went out of his mouth. He rode on a Cherub and flew upon the wind." The soldier of the Legion, worshipping the imperial Caesar, while mounting guard in some remote northern province, where the biting wind blew in his face, and the drifting snow covered his lonely beat, and thinking of his sunny Italian home, among the heavy-fruited grape vines, were all alike pro cted. The emperor was deified because men were enslaved. No real unity held those difi"erent people together. The em- peror Augustus shut the gates of a certain temple as a sign of peace ; but true peace did not exist. The empire was like a beautiful school house in a well- arranged play-ground, where, the momenl: any person came into it, or the scholars came out, each one fell into line, where they marched according to fixed rules all round the enclosure ; but inside the house all was disorder and confusion, — every one doing as he pleased, — the few who were really anxious to study, unable to do so. The temper of the world was cruel and profane. Tyranny and oppression crushed men to the ground. The Roman peace and unity was a kingdom of this world. The human race was groaning for the better peace of a kingdom not of this world. This tyranny and oppression called for "one" to con- sole ; moral sickness called for " one" to heal ; the Jew looked for the promised " one," — the " one" to restore their lost politi- cal power, to raise Jerusalem, and trample the proud oppressor, Rome. . The Messiah to come was to reign in the hearts of men. Despair, and the vices which spring from it, abounded among the educated and uneducated people. No human laws can 5^ THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. :ii make man pure, or give him happiness. Morality must have a tone, and humanity self-respect. " What is the sum of the ten commandments ?" asked Mr. Grey, of a little fellow who sat near him. " To love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with aH thy strength, and thy neighbour as thy- self," was the prompt reply. " Do you think that the law, which enables the freedman to deposit his vote in the same ballot-box with his former master, would make the highly educated and once wealthy Southern planter love the poor, illiterate coloured man ?" said Mr. Grey. " Law would never make the love come." ** You can't make us love any one, if we don't want to," were some of the answers to the pastor's question. " I dare not strike a boy in school, because it is against the rule ; but that don't make me like him a bit better, I know that," said a thoughtful-looking little fellow, suddenly starting up, and as quickly sinking to his seat, as if surprised at his own voice. " Quite right, my boy," said Mr. Grey, approvingly. " And just as little could the rule, or law, of the Roman em- peror, which made the Jew and Gentile live at peace under one government, make them love each other. Jesus came. Not as the Jew expected Him, in awful pomp and royal power. No. The stern oppression of the Roman law forced His mother from her quiet home, in which an angel had told her of the babe that was to come to her. The heaven-sent child was found in the stable by the road side. There the wailing babe lay unnoticed and unknown, until the angels awoke the shepherds with the song, 'Peace on earth, good will to men.' The shepherds hastened to see the child, wondering what this song did mean. The child grew, lived as other boys, obeyed his parents, as the haugf brothi a coi ChrisI school and el due tc (( them. tory tl MAYPOLE BROOK. 53 ve a Mr. h all thy- an to laster, ithern Grey. make nswers tist the [ know Starting lis own lan em- der one Not as r. No. er from abethat in the noticed ith the epherds lid mean, rents, as every child should learn to obey. The boy grew into the man ; lived and laboured thirty, years. " Think of that, boys and girls, whenever you hear any one despise work. Jesus Christ was a working man. His mother's husband was a mechanic. He was brought up in the family of a carpenter. " This man, Jesus, quietly tells his friends to love not only their friends and each other, but also to love their enemies. Love everyone. This love strengthened the hearts of the down- trodden ; consoled the sad ; healed the sick. This love took the little children which idolatry would have sacrificed, and blessed them. Jesus formed a club. Love was the password. In it all its members eat and drink together, all cemented by love to Jesus Christ and each other. Love thus did what no law could do, — mould people of different thoughts and associa- tions into one common interest. " At this supper, the Gentile ate out of the same plate, and drank out of the same cup, with the Jew, whom he had been accustomed to regard as an enemy to the progress of the human race. The Roman met the lying Greek ; the Syrian slave, and the gladiator, born beside the Thames, here met the once haughty Roman citizen on tferms of equality. All met as brothers, — brethren joined by a common hope, a common aim, a common father, all expecting a common home. Love to Christ meant love to each other. It also meant food to the hungry, clothes to the ragged, shoes to the barefoot, common schools for all. This nice school house, with its maps, globes, and everyday teaching for the children, at Maypole Brook, is due to love. " My dear young friends, I know you love your parents. Obey them. Obedience will prove your love. It is related in his- tory that a certain king forbade, on pain of death, any person 54 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. in his army, which was opposite to the enemy, to strike a blow until a certain hour. The king's son disobeyed, slew the op- posing general, and gained the victory. Did his father applaud this gallant act ? No, indeed ; he ordered his death. The glory of the victor could not cover the disobeying the command of the king. "I entreat you to obey the Saviour. He has promised the Holy Spirit to all that ask Him. Obey Jesus by asking for the Holy Spirit to take up His abode, iiow^ in your hearts, even to-day. " Read the Scriptures ; commit them to memory, and then your minds will be filled with materials with whidh the Holy Spirit can work. Mr. Grey concluded his address by reading the hymn. The children sang to an old tune : — ** If I come to Jesus he will make me glad, He will give me pleasure when my heart is sad ; If I come to Jesus, happy I shall be, For he is gently calling little ones like me. " The hour was up. The class went home. " I goed to Bible class with Cora," whispered Enoch Tucker, when he climbed into his father's lap at suppertime. " What did you learn, my son ?" " I knowed somesing." " Tell us, my boy ? What did Mr. Grey tell you ?" said his father, kissing the chubby cheek of the four year old pet. " He said to love everybodies. I love you, and mamma, and Cora. Tom Dunn took my new top." "Do you love Tom?" " I am good, I love him now. Tom is a big boy, papa. When I get to be as big, big as Ben Butler, I'll hit him right MAYPOLE BROOK. 55 id his Lmma, papa, right on his eyes, this way," said Knoch, doiibHng his chubby fist and placing it between his own eyes. Mr. Grey drove round by the potteries, which had made, in the course of a few years, this rural part of his charge a most important one in regard to population. How a manufactory of any kind changes a neighborhood. Work at home, what a blessing it is. Dwellings spring up, schools are enlarged, churches filled, farmers find ready sale for their produce, and parents are cheered in their old age by the society of their children and their children's children. If there was one animal which the minister loved, that animal was a fast horse. His sister almost forgot her ever- present grief, watching the horse and the pleasant summer evening. The top of the buggy was thrown back. Bella's trot was gay, nimble and graceful, with a short springy step. She was rather light but very compact, her colour was a light chestnut, a very handsome head, thin sharp ears, and large lively eyes — their ever-changing expression betokened nerve. When they were half-way home, the fuir moon rose. The light through the openings between the great elms and willows, with which the roadside through the intervale on the valley ot the Elmsdale was planted, checkered the road. The slightest breath of wind moving the pliant boughs, shifting the light, moving the dancing shadows on the road, the grass, and on the flashing waters of the river. What network of endless moving delicate tracery, old as the everlasting hills ! Man only improves upon or changes the design, as he builds, uproots old, or plants new growths. Mr. Grey turned to the bridge on the right and thus avoided passing through the town of Elmsdale on his way home. A full flood of moonlight lay on the bridge. The soft fleecy white clouds and clear starlit sky were inverted in the still deep 56 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. 'iiilii'^^ eddy, opposite to where the silent current slipped close to the bank. Up a gentle rise, down, quickly down, Bella's shoe striking a bright spark from the gravelly road, they turn into the gates. Gently the low-lands are filling with vapour, first hovering like a pale ghost along the zig-zag course of the river, boundaries become extinct, and the trees are swallowed up. The road over which they have just passed has disap- peared — a limitless sea of vapour hangs over the land. At the end of the avenue. Rover, the great shaggy white dog, is waiting for his master, and without a bark walks demurely to the door-step. George drives to the stable. No one meets his sister at the door. No one in the parlor or sitting-room. The supper- table is laid with gold-rimmed china and spotless white napkins, yet no one is there. A slight sound, or laugh it seemed, came through the open window, and Mrs. Ross turned towards the library. Sight of sights, in a minister's study, there were all the children playing blind man's buff. While Winifred, seated in the great arm chair, Eddie's arm round her neck and little Evvy's head in her lap, kept watch and guard over them. Fulton was blind man. He had Christina closely pent up in a corner — no chance of escape — when Thirza came behind him on tip-toe, touched his extended arm, and gave her friend a chance to escape. Mr. Grey had stepped in at the open window, called out to Thirza " well done," but before he could fold her in his outstretched arms, Fulton had both the girls laughing and struggling captives. Mr. Grey liberated them. When he was blinded, he an- swered how many horses his father had, and their never-varying black, white and grey colours, turned round three times, and soon caught them all, and with a kiss to each the party was dismissed to bed. lli"l ^'^. MAYPaLt BROOK. 57 Supper was brought in. The drive had given Mr. Grey and h.s sister quite an appetite. They enjoyed Winifred's cream and fruit. After worship, Mary Ross retired to rest, thoroughly fatigued with the events of the day. She fell into a sound sleep. When she awoke next morning, the sun was high in the heavens f Ill :ii!| ii' ill 58 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. CHAPTER VII. CORRESPONDENCE. ** There shall be no night there." — Scripture, f[^RS. Grey had visitors in the afternoon. The minister was called away after dinner to visit a sick man, and I Mrs. Ross preferred remaining in her room. On his return, Mrs. Ross referred to his conversation about knowing or meeting friends in heaven. Before he could reply, a message came that some person wished to see him in his study. " My dear sister," said George, "as I leave early to-morrow, and expect to be absent all day, I will send you a note on the subject of our conversation. If any idea strike you as new, let me know." Shaking hands v*^ith his sister and kissing all the children, Mr. Grey left the room. Winifred sat down to the organ and played an accompani- ment. The children sang together very nicely. Mary retired early, listened to her sister teaching the children a Bible story before they went to sleep, and in a few minutes she closed her eyes. Next morning she found a letter addressed to her on the study table, and sitting down in the easy chair, she read \- — '* My Dear Mary, — Shall I know my husband in heaven ? seems to be the burden of your sad heart. "You cannot believe in a sensuous heaven where friend chats with friend, and share bonbons with each other, which at best is only an earth without an earth's annoyances. You equally dread a spiritual heaven, and shudder gl CORRESPONDENCE. 59 .ni- •ed |ory ler I the be \out Iddev to think of a spirit so ethereal, so angelic, as to have nothing — not one memory of earth, left about it. *' My dear Sister, the heaven of the Bible is a happy mean between these two — the sensuous, and the spiritual. " 'Today shalt thou be with me in Paradise,' said the dying Saviour to the penitent, pleading thief ; thus proving that He was the promised Man of woman born, who, as the heir-at-law of that Paradise, from which His parent had been expelled. He had proved His title, and was exercising His right to restore the human family to it. *' The redeemed who shall people it will be as truly human as Adam was, but with bodies fashioned like unto Christ's resurrection body. Fear of a spirit is natural to the human heart. When Jesus came walking on the water His disciples were afraid. The Kind One hastened to calm their fears by calling, ' It is I,' a man, * be not afraid.' ** Thomas was told to feel the print of the nails, to touch Him, and see, — that a spirit had not flesh and bones. '* That body which could be handled, which could pass through, the 'doors being shut,' and could rise to heaven, is such a body as your lost one shall wear in the resurrection mom, when this mortal shall put on immortality. ** It is the nature we have here, that which makes our humanity, which is to be arrayed in the immortal covering, and rise to meet the Lord in the air, all the faculties essentially human for ever. " How the soul, being with Christ between death and the resurrection is not unclothed, but clothed upon. Scripture is silent, speculation a drunken guide. ** When death strip ^ the soul from its present body, the soul rises with all the thoughts which make the man, into the Elder Brother's house. "Stephen saw Jesus standing in glory, and cried, * Lord Jesus receive my spirit." " The emotional nature will survive. It is the affections which mt\ke the glory of man. itan is intellect without love. " In haste, my dear Sister, " I remain, your affectionate Brother, ** George." '* Elmsdale, June ist. " Dear George, — Your letter was too short, it only glanced on the ques- lii tion. * Shall we knoiv our friends in heaven ?' *'Mary." l • 60 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. ** Elmsdale, Monday. '* My Dear Sister,- Winnie gave me your note, which I will, in this my first leisure moment, endeavor to answer, as the Scriptures warrant me in so doing. I will not give the references, as they will be easily found by referring to the sacred page. *'*Thy brother shall rise again,' said Jesus to the mourning sisters. Small comfort in that fact if you could not know him. So your husband shall rise at the resurrection morn, in the fullness of his earnest love, for death shall destroy no pure affection which thrilled a Christian heart ; although in the many mansions which Jesus provides for His people they neither marry nor are given in marriage. Jesus is the glad bridegroom of the Church triumphant. "Sitting at the marriage supper of the Lamb, all affections centre on the Bridegroom. "What a glad party, theSw, ihe redeemed, the Holy, the crowned, the re- joicing multitudes. 'Worthy is the Lamb,' is the song in every heart. " As man, with a human body, \ human intellect, a human heart ; for it is a mortal which has emerged from the death ruin, put on immortality, and has passed from earth to heaven, as time has become eternity ; there xeads from the open book of heart memories : he learns the loves, the influences, the counsels and the warnings which aided his higher life, and on earth strength- ened his soul for fellowship with glorified humanity. Each mind will have its own secret sacred record. " Earth's mourning ones will then know that it was better to have * loved and lost,' than never to have loved : for by the great highway of human love, they stepped into the glorious portals of immortal love. "It is needless to remind you, my dear sister, of the depth of mere human love. But it is when this love in all its breadth and depth is centred in, and rests upon Jesus, that is happiness. Heaven, who can describe. — * How can ye believe, if I tell you heavenly things ; if when I tell you earthly things, ye believe not,' so when this mortal, positively this mortal puts on immortality, what words can depict it. "Only the person made immortal, en understand the immortal things. "The silent, loathsome, crawling ./orm, curls up its feet, rests for a brief space ; then emerges to cleave the air, on radiant golden wings, exchanging the mirebed for a bed of roses. The dry, hard, shell-encased seed, sown in earth, growing into the blossom-covered treej are but faint shadows of this "T'lf CORRESPONDENCE. 6i lan in, ^rief ing In in I this immortal, when it rises from the grave, with all its mortal loves blooming into immortality. * * To the heart, and not to the intellect, will the highest place be given in that blessed social circle, which is neither selfish nor sensuous, but where all the powers of an unvitiated intellect will be gratified, filled to their utmost capacity, but all made, even our love to Jesus, stepping stones to the love of God, 'who is over all,' when Jesus hath given up all things to the Father. "Yours, fraternally, "G. G." **My Dear Brother,— You have omitted the main point, the employ- ments of Heaven. Do you think that we will know and talk with each other, and have faith. You believe that all will go to heaven, when Christ comes to call the dead. Is that so ? "Mary." " P. S. — Is my loved one sleeping the sleep which forme knows no wak- ing — all his affections lost." **My dear Sister, — The word of God says positively, 'That somt will rise to glory, and some to shame, and everlasting contempt. ' " When Stephen saw Jesus, and asked him to receive his spirit — his faith was ended — lost in sight. Love alone survived. Love born on this shore of shifting sand, scales the sky, and becomes immortal. Seek this love, Mary ; say not, ' Too late, too late. ' A soul struggling, wrestling ; the hollow moan, the rasping, the grating, the very want, the earnest that the love does exist. That soul, touched by the love of Jesus, thrills with un- speakable rapture, glows with a fervour which never can be destroyed. " This is an event, which, like the rising sun, casts its shadow before, softens all wounds ; friends are dearer, enemies become friends, difficulties vanish. He giveth his beloved sleep, and songs in the night. " Let this thought roll away the stone of grief ; these pure earthly affec* tions lifted and fused into the heavenly ; the heart, the thing which feels^ the intellect, the affections — call it sojil^ if you choose — of your loved one, has gone to Jesus, and is enjoying those unspeakable things which it is not law- ful for a man to utter. ' The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne i i 62 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.' " Although we cannot tell how the soul leaves the body, yet the two worlds, we may say, so closely overlap each other — a breath only dividing them — that dying men have caught glances of the other world, like threads of sunlight through cracks in a wall. As for instance, Elijah, Dives, Ste- phen, Paul; and John. My dear sister, yesterday the grave closed over a devoted young man, who had been educated at Yale, and Halle, in Germany, who died at the early age of thirty-four. Just before his death, he said : * I believe that God hath yet a work for me to do ; a work which shall en- gage all my powers.' He spoke much of meeting the Saviour, who was so precious to him. * And when I get to heaven, the first thing I shall d o will be to strike my harp, and fall down at Jesus' feet, to thank him for saving such a poor worm of the dust. I believe I shall see Paul, and Ste- phen, and Luther, and the martyrs who died testifying for Christ, and they will speak to me, and join in singing a song of praise, that one more soul is saved. ' ** So you see, Mary, that * Christ' is the believer's last thought here. Nei- ther his mother, nor Christ's mother, but Christ. *' I add this one more testimony to the testimony of the saints and mar- tyrs. To do is to know. A life spent in tvor^ for Christ, is the best way to know the hereafter. **This is the work here, to believe in Jesus, and the employment of heaven is begun, for eternity is only time without an end. *' That we may all look to Jesus, by repentance, love, and obedience, and all meet in heaven, ** Is the prayer of your brother. *'G. G." ' THE THUNDER STORM. 63 CHAPTER VIII. THE THUNDER STORM. ** His lightnings lighten the earth." |W0 weeks since I opened my diary. Five weeks at Elmsdale. When I came down this morning the family had breakfasted. A tiny tray with a single cup and saucer remained for me. ''Winnie was singing, ' He doeth all things well ;' her fingers busy putting a stitch here, and a button there, on the family linen. Ellen had the charge of that work for my family. After dinner, George left home. Mrs. Grey had visitors. I would not see them. " ' He doeth all things well,* rang in my ears. I went into the field with a will to walk such thoughts out of my head. * All things well.' Two years ago I might have said so, but now — oh ! never, never. " I walked as rapidly as I could walk for several miles, then turned and walked very leisurely home. " Company, company still with Winnie. I went to my own room, and wearied lay on the lounge, but failed to sleep. " ' He doeth all things well ' haunted me. I arose, changed my dress, and went to the parlor. The girls were having a game of hopscotch on the platform. Fulton was flying a monster kite, much to the delight of the children, who looked upward, cheering as the kite soared to higher and higher regions. " I found Winnie in her own room, she had put Evvy, dressed in his white gown, into his crib, and was sitting at the I 64 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. ■ittti WBtm 'ttl mi' § ' ) window watching the kite. I drew up a low stool, sat down, and laid my head on h^r lap. The kite seemed to fly in short convulsive jumps and jerks. Mrs. Grey closed the window, and called the children into the house. " I had been too much absorbed to notice that the black clouds, which in my walk I had seen gathering, had folded their edges, stretched their dark wings, and overshadowed the sun. *' Presently the thunder growled, and the lightning laughed with a horrid glare. Through the air, which seemed to stand motionless in sorrow and affright, the rain fell in great drops, which, with a patter, bounded from the earth and sank in crystal spray. " In a short time the rain ceased. The setting sun shone very brightly, edging the inky peaks of the retreating clouds with a fringe of the palest azure and gold. A beautiful rain- bow which arched the heavens, sinking behind the hills, and colouring a broad path across the fields with as vivid and brilliant a bow as was in the sky. " The children who had been hushed and subdued during the rain, were loud in their raptures over the bow and the second rainbow across the fields. ' A ladder for angels to walk down to earth,' said one. " ' Perhaps Jesus Christ will come on it to take the little child- ren in his arms,' said little Lena, hugging Thirza in her arms ; * would you not like to see him ?' " ' Yes. What does he look Hke?' said Thirza, gazing very thoughtfully at the beautiful bow. " ' Jesus Christ did not come so gloriously the time he was here ;' observed Mamma. " * God came to Mount Sinai in lightning and thunder. Uncle George read so in the Bible, this morning,' said my dear Eddie. iica ^« r\ THE THUNDERSTORM. 6s „ very was Inder. dear " Fulton replied, ' God and Jesus Christ are all one, Eddie.' " * Why, Fult., Jesus Christ was a baby, and the oxen did not eat him.' " * He was a man, and cried about Lazarus.' " ' He is our brother, any way. Uncle George and Lena's teacher said so,' chimed in other little voices.' "The tea-bell ended the discussion, so far as the children were concerned ; but in my brain iL started a new train of thought, namely : Is Jesus God and man ? " The last rays of the setting sun were tinging the whole sky with roseate hues. The dark clouds were fast disappearing, the bright stars danced attendance on the young moon, which had passed above the clouds. " I wrote a line to George, and sent it by the evening train, asking what was his opinion about Jesus, or ' What think ye of Christ ?' His reply was : ** Dear Mary, — I take much pleasure in answering your very short, but comprehensive, note. "Jesus has two distinct natures, but is one person. In His divine nature He is truly God, yet a distinct person from the Father. " That * Ail things were made by Him who is the image of the invisible God,' the first-born of every creature, proves His pre-existence before His human birth some nineteen centuries ago. He is the manifestation of the Deity and ever will be. " ' Let all the angels of God wor'^hip Him,' said E*aul to the Colossians, who had arranged the angels into classes, and gave each the worship due to his rank in his class, appointing Jesus a place among them How can this be? is the Apostle's query. Can an angel worship himself, or can He be an equal among the angels? How? For 'All things that are in heaven or in earth, visible or invisible, were created by Him and for Him. He was before all things, and upholds all things by His all powerful word. What and if ye shall see the Son of Man ascend where He was before.' '* ' Oh, Father, glorify me with the glory which I had with Thee before £ 66 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. m the world was. ' This prayer of Jesus how blasphemous, as the Jews justly said, if He were man only. "'Before Abraham was I am.' Yes, the 'Lord' which Abraham saw in Mamre, was the Jesus of Paul, the very Lord which Paul saw on the road to Damascus. This Lord ate and drank with Abraham, as He ate and drank with Peter and John, or in Mary's house, and talked with Abraham as with them. *' One night, Joshua, worn and anxious, pacing around the walls of Jericho, met a man with his sword unsheathed ; he challenged this suspicious look- ing man, and was told to loose the shoes off his feet, that he stood on ground hallowed by the presence of the Captain of the Lord's Hosts. This man which Joshua 'saw' and 'challenged' is called 'Jehovah.' "The Lord that led Moses — the Eye which, out of the cloudy pillar, looked on Pharaoh and troubled his hosts — the Lord God of Bethel — the Angel — the One sent — was Jesus. It was He who, at Horeb in the fiery pillar, in the unconsumed burning bush, in the glory-filled sanctuary, in the thunder peal and lightning wreath round Sinai's rugged brow, appeared in the dread symbols of Jehovah. " No man can see God and live. God the Father mortal eye hath not seen. He could not be sent by any one ; therefore, it must be God the Son who has been sent and seen. " God the Son was spoken of by the prophets as the Saviour to come. 'He shall suddenly come into His temple.' Simeon recognized Him in Mary's infant son. One day the son of Mary, clothed in flesh and blood, a man among men, stands on a mount, — His disguise, for a moment is drop- ped, and the inner gloiy bursts forth like a blaze, thus revealing Himself to be the brightness of His Father's glory. He is in the Father, and the Father in Him. Immutability, Omniscience, Omnipresence, and Omnipo- tence are His. Thy throne, oh God, is for ever and ever. " ' Awake, O sword, against|thine equal, against the man that is thy fellow ; smite the shepherd and the sheep shall be scattered,' were the words which Jesus said were fulfilled, when he was betrayed. " The great day of atonement has come. The victim is bound. Heaven waits. Hell watches. All the Past looked forward to this hour, and to it the Future looks backward. Earth shudders. The sky scowls. The sun refuses to shine. Jesus dies. The debt is paid. His death is an infinite atonement. That death is real. He was buried. He rises. Justice is satisfied. While the red gore was trickling down the rough THE THUNDERSTORM. 67 wood, his pallid lips said, 'It is finished,' even then hi. r ,u . attested. Truly, this was the Son of God '''"' "'^ a ho ill: ir',;!" •*''^ "™"^'*'"" ^'-"^~.eheave„ ** Your's truly, "George Grey.'" 68 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. CHAPTER IX. THE children's PARTY. ** Suffer litlfv; cMiJren to come unto me." # *' |HE children's party was quite an event to the little people at Elmsdale. The morning was close and sultry. About noon a heavy shower fell, then a cool west wind scattered the clouds, the sun shone brightly on the earth glittering with rain drops. The children were all expectation. Jenny and Annie Marsh came early, and with them came an armful of dolls. Maud, Lilie, Dora and Grace Butler, came at the moment when Bene and Maggie Leaf were announced. Soon all were busily engaged in the playroom. Dolls were there dressed and undressed. What marvellous toilets glit- tered on dolls, with flaxen ringlets and winking blue eyes. All doUdom was in excitement. The sitting-room was made into a coliseum, and the dolls moved from the playroom into it. The concert was opened by Jenny Marsh and Christine playing a duet. Fulton directed the music, using a cane. The children sang "Work" very spiritedly. Ev. and Eddie performing the anvil chorus with spoons on a tin pan, while Bridget rang some half dozen bells behind the door. The jubilee was a great success. The dolls were carried up stairs quite fatigued. Fulton invited the company to visit the barn. Here a double swing awaited them. Bridget and Fulton swung all who wished to enjoy that pleasure. as a tei sp^ hei wa^ THE children's PARTY. 69 tine lane. Ldie ih\\Q iThe Itairs I * uble shed A game of croquet followed. Mrs. Ross, much to her own dismay, was drawn into it by Winnie and the children, as it required only one more to make the set, and it would be " real mean" if auntie would not come. Ladies, in borrowed plumes and trains of fabulous length, strolled through the garden, among huge clumps of honey- suckle, plots of pea blossoms and many coloured phlox. Games of hide and go seek were played under the luxuriant foliage, or behind the blossoming rose trees. The swallows holding a meeting on the roof of the barn, as if taking into account the damage swallow town had suffered in the last heavy shower, was very amusing to the children. Thirza, in a whisper to Dora, remarked, " I never know how one bird understands what the other says. Dora, do you know?" " I never thought about it, 'cause I see them all the time," replied Dora. . , Fulton showed them, in a corner among the fragrant hay, old pussy with a family of five kittens. Fat, clinging, scratchy, playful kits, with eyes wide open both black and bright. The old cat came purring and rubbing her head gently against Eddie, who held one kit ir ^is hand. " Please, Eddie, lay it down, pussy wants to kiss it," said ilene. Eddie complied, but the next moment he stood speechless, as pussy caught it in her mouth, rushed into the barn, and with a bound reached the haymow. Thirza's eyes were filled with tears. In a moment, Eddie recovering from his surprise, sprang after her, exclaiming " O, Fult, stop her, take it from her, she will eat it !" The girls calmed his fears by telling him that was pussy's way of carrying her babies, and to prove it, another kitten was / 70 THE TWILIGHT OK FAITH. laid down. Pus.s returned, seized it, and carried it off in the same manner. An old hen walks to the door, turns up her head, and quietly walks away. In a moment .she returns followed by the old rooster, who steps along very i)roudly, showing his red and yellow breast. Behold his large notched single comb, his broad red wattles, the bright gold and green feathers on his neck and back, all in a stir, and the two arching tail feathers just touching the ground, all combined to give ||iim a really majestic appearance as he goes leisurely up the barn door plat- form after the old muffry speckled hen. He stops at the door, picks up something, a worm or a crumb, gives a coaxing chuck, in answer to it all the hens and chickens run, the hens outrun the chickens, he holds it in his beak an instant, stands erect, then gives it to Speck. Speck runs, hens and chicks follow. She drops the dainty bit, another hen seizes it — a part see it, turn and follow the hen who is in possession of the coveted morsel. The chase becomes quite exciting, and while the children are absorbed in watching it, out of the riiow flies old yellow legs, her wings almost brushing their heads, with a loud cackle " cut, cut, cut — a — tark," while " tark, tark, tark," all the hens take up in chorus, "jubilee, jubilee, a hen jubilee," shout the merry laughing children. Amid the din of commingling child voices and hen voices, the tea bell rings clear and loud. The glad party go into supper. After tea, Mr. Grey invited the party into his study, closed the inside blinds, and showed them some fine views of the Holy Land, and several views of the most noted cities in America. About sundown the party broke up, all tired, pleased, and sleepy. " Fancy," said Mrs. Ross, "just fancy, me playing croquet !" ir ar iiiiv >.. THK CHILDREN S PARTY 71 losed the ks in and Let !" " Play with us again, mamma. I am sure you play better than Aunt Winnie does," said Thirza, in a confidential tone, to her mamma, when she came to kiss her good-night. \ low sigh was Mrs. Ross's answer to the dear little pleader . Next Sabbath afternoon, Mrs. Ross went with the minister's family to the concert. She was ushered into the basement, which was a large and well-lighted room. In front was the Superintendent's desk. The infant class was seated before it ; behind were the larger scholars. The room was filled with spectators. The exercises began by the Superintendent giving out the hymn. "licautiful Zion built above, Beautiful city that I love ; Beautiful temple, (iod its light, Beautiful gates of pearly white ; He who died on Calvary Opened these pearly gates for me. " The infant class was asked some questions about the Babe at Bethlehem, when one little fellow exclaims, " We have a baby at our house !" " Were you glad when the baby came?" enquired the Super- intendent. " Yes." was the quick reply. " Why were you so glad, Johnny?" " Because we like to love him. Like to love the baby. The angels liked to love the baby in the stable." "Can you tell me what became of that baby?" " He grew up to be a man." " Did He love little children ?" i ill ^ 72 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. " Yes. He took them in his arms and blessed them," answered a sweet little one. " Where did Jesus find the children whom he blessed ? " " Somebody brought them to Jesus." " I would have corned myself," said an excitable little girl, jumping to her feet. "Why do not you go now, my dear?" " He is not \ere — I do not see Him," she answered, looking round with a startled expression on her face. " My dear child, Jesus is in this room, although we cannot see Him. He is as really near you as He was when He said, 'Suffer Httle children to come unto me.' When each of you goes home, go to your rooms, kneel down, and ask Jesus to bless you. You can at this moment, when I am talking to you, ask Jesus to let the F y Spirit come into your hearts, u.nd He will show you Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit is waiting to come ; Jesus is waiting for you to ask Him to let Him bless you." The school sang : ' ** Suffer little children to come unto me." The infant class retired, leaving thr larger scholars to con- tinue the exercise. The division in the shorter catechism stood up to recite. " How doth the Spirit apply unto us the redemption pur- chased by Christ?" " By persuading, and enabling us to embrace Jesus Christ, freely offered to us in the gospel," was the prompt reply. " Give a passage of Scripture tc ,jrove that Christ is freely offered." " * Come unto me,' ' Look unto me, and be ye saved,' ' i^/^hom- soever will, let him come and take of the waters of life freely,' * Ilim that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast o':t,' ' As I pur- hrist, freely lom- iely,' lAs I THE children's PARTY. 73 live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the sinner,' were some of the texts which little voices spoke clearly and distinctly. Many hands fell as the words were repeated, thus showing that some of their texts had been recited." " ,r hat does the Spirit do besides persuade men to emorace Jesus Christ?" " It enables them," was the simultaneous answer. "How?" said the Superintendent. There was no answer to this question. "What does persuade mean ?" he went on to ask. " Talk you into it," said a thoughtful-looking lad. " How could one boy persuade another to do a thing?" " Coax him." " Get him to do it." " Very good. You have given the meaning of persuade. Tell us how one can enable another to do a thing." No answer. " Do you remember the swing at our pic-nic last week?" All hands were raised. " I saw near it a small boy ; he was sitting on the root of a tree, his face covered with his hands. " A party of boys ran down the hill, crying, ' Swing, swing ! rhey hac' possession of the swing. " ' Sonny, have a swing,' said a large boy, going up to thu sad one. " No answer. " The friendly boy sat down by the sad one, drew his hand from his face, repeating, " ' Come ! have a swing.' " ' I can't swing.' " ' Try.' " ' There is no room.' " ' Come, we will find room.' » j f. illlli; Ir 74 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. " ' I am afraid.' " ' Never mind fear. Come?' '"If I go, I will fall!' " ' Try, I will hold you on. The manager sent me'to stay with you. To be with you when you get on, and when you get off. 'J'o go forwards with you, and to go backwards with you.' " Smiles played on the tearful face, he held out his hand, and submitted to the guidance of his friend. " Now children tell me what the big boy did for the little one ?" " He persuaded him. He made him able to swing. He held him on. He staid with him." " Just so, the Holy Spirit persuades or coaxes us. He will shew us all about Jesus Christ. This work is begun in this world, and we will continue for ever looking to Jesus. The work of the spirit is direct and powerful. He is ever near and around us. When we love Christ, the spirit works in us, his peace dwells in our hearts." " Come holy Spirit, heavenly dove, With all thy quickening power, Kindle a flame of sacred love, In these cold liearts of ours." Was sung. The accompaniment by the organ. Mr. (key asked the questions to the bible class. The subject was Paul's address to the Athenians. The minister in a very brief bi t graphic manner, gave a sketch of Athens, Anno Domini 52. " Nearly 500 years before this date, Athens was at the height of her glory. Even now she was a most magnificent city. "Without the cily, on one side of the main entrance, stood a THE children's PARTY. 75 e will 1 this The and his ijave a [height rood a statue of Minerva, — its tutelary divinity. Opposite her, on horse back sat Neptune, hurling his trident. "Inside, near a sanctuary of Bacchus stood images of Minerva, Jupiter, Apollo, Mercury and the Muses. " At the precincts of the Agora, among tlic plane trees, which surrounded and beautified this Market Place, which like the Common of Boston, was the great place of public resort, were found the poets, philosophers, as well as the working people of Athens : strolling in the open air, enjoying the beauties of their fine climate, all eager in enquiring for, hearing or telling any new, curious or strange thing. " All that the Telegram and Newspaper bring to us, the living voice brought to them. "In the Agora was the Painted Porch, the Stoa Poecila, which gave the name of Stoic to the school which Zeno founded, whose name has become a familiar word to us. In the Agora the statue of every god in Olympus found a place. Here were also the statues of many celebrated Athenian heroes — and statesmen. Reminders of the mighty dead. " Here also altars were erected to Fame, Energy, Modesty, and Pity. This groping after the abstract and the invisible, led to the building of the altar to the ' Unknown God,' which stood in solitary grandeur, without priest, or sacrifice. Doubt- less many a sad, aching, joyless heart, turned from the drunken revelries of Bacchus or the gore-stained steps of Mars : to wonder if that silent One could give the peace, after which each human heart is made to sigh. " At last the priest of this unstained altar, came Into the Agora — Paul, a slight little man, around whom the saunterers among the trees began to gather, as they heard the stranger speak of the ' Unknown God,' — which to them was a most mo- mentous and important affair. !! "A I lii ijij 76 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. " The pleasure-seeking Epicurean strolled from his garden a few yards distant, and joined the frigid Stoic in requesting a more definite account of this strange, but not by any means new thing — another God. Many joined them only to wile away a listless hour in listening even to a babbler. Therefore they sought a more retired spot, and carried Paul, not to the Acropolis, up the massive flight of marble steps, leading to terraces unrivalled in their sculpture and architecture, which were dedicated to the national glory, to the worship of the gods, filled with their images, and crowned by the Parthenon, the glorious temple of Minerva, but to the summit of the hill Areopagus. Perhaps they expected to overawe this solitary herald of 'The Unknown,^ for here the most awful court of justice had sat from time immemorial to pass sentence on the greatest criminals, and to decide the most solemn religious questions. " To this place of silent dread, in the midst of a gay city, the crowd ascended from the Agora by stone steps. Here the judges sat in the open air upon seats hewn out of the soHd rock. Above them, on the brow of this rocky height, was a temple dedicated to Mars, for here the trial of that god had taken place, which gave the name ' Mars' Hill' to the eminence. " At the base of the rock was the sanctuary of the Furies. The huge brazen statue of Minerva flashed above in the sun- light. Almost in its shadow Paul stood. Yonder white altar's fathomless inscription his text, his auditory, Epicurean, Stoic — men, woman, but in the eye of that ' Unknown,' all sinners. All around the eye rested on god, goddess, temple, or shrine, objects of worship in a religion which ministered to art and amusement, but was totally destitute of m' nd power. It gratified taste, but gave man no victory over himself Stoic and Epicurean were only other nanies for the pride and the pleasure which are natural to every human heart. THE CHILDREN S PARTY. 77 " The Athenian living in the midst of everything to satisfy his pride, remained in ignorance of his Creator. The haughty Stoic, if the world did not please him, said, ' die by your own hand.' To each of these the ambassador of the ' Unknown," with one hand pointing to the altar which told of a purity as of snow, white in the blue holiness of heaven, the other raised to the flashing statue opposite to him, declared, in most eloquent language, that ' they ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold and silver, or stone graven by art or man's de- vice.' The religion of the All-pure has tenderness for what is not pure; where Stoicism says 'die,' yon inscription shows how to be saved ! and disappointed, doubting hearts need never look to Him in vain. But the listening Stoic despised the idea of a God who had atoned for our sin, yet was ready to aid our weakness. A religion addressed only to the taste is as powerless as one that appeals only to the intellect. The reli- gion of Jesus is love — love to friends, love to enemies, love to the whole human family. This ' Unknown God ' is love. ' For in Him we live, and move, and have our being.' Adding in a quotation from Aratus, a Greek Poet and a Cilician, • We are His offspring.' "Paul left Mars' Hill. The mocking, jeering crowd dispersed, little dreaming that he had immortalized Aratus and the crowd. He remained in the city some time, recommending the religion of his God ; proving in his own experience that it delivers not only from gross vice, but it has sympathy, and strength for the most sensitive and the most delicate minds ; disputing also in the synagogues with the teachers, and showing that entire sur- render of self to the Divine will is the only perfect sacrifice, •'Then, said I, lo, I come to do Thy will, O God." Thus did the Jesus, the Christ. He aiul He alone can give the spirit which enables man to present -lis body a living ^£J r I 78 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is his reasonable service." Singing and prayer closed the concert. Mrs. Ross walked home in silence, wondering if she were, or were not, a really afflicted child of God. •i. II! 11 1 1 i PIC-NIC. 79 CHAPTER X. PIC-NIC. ^HE minister and family were invited to a pic-nic at the Dell. Mr. Grey drove the party out to Crystal Lake. g This lake, near the summit of the hills, is several miles in circumference, and its situation is strikingly roman- tic. A large rock rises boldly in the centre, around which the clear waters, unruffled by any wind, float in unbroken stillness. The wild and precipitous heights, which environ it, are clotheCi with trees of great beauty j the. hanging branches, cov(" ' ".n drooping foliage, shadowing the lichens which chu,..e .ind checker the hoary rocks with purple and silver; white birches, pendant mulberries, trembling silvery aspens, mossy hemlocks, leafless, barkless, weather-beaten pines, filled in by a back ground of clear blue sky, are pictured down, down deep in the smooth water. The stream which steals very quietly from the lake, runs a short distance, leaps over a precipitous ledge of rock, and forms a very pretty cascade — the headlong fury of the rushi .g, falling water, covering with spray the bushes around the fall, the leaves tossing to and fro in sympathy with the dashing stream, which, emerging from the churning basin, runs quietly down the gorge, kissing the banks, glancing in the sun, or coyly shpping under the bushes, seemingly glad to enjoy the shade and solitude of the flowers and trees which cover it — onward goes the stream, mingling its water with rivulet and brook, and gradually, noiselessly, it joins the Elmsdale. I I i'il " lli" inr^ 80 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. After a drive of a few miles they reached the Dell. The pic- nic was held in a grove of firs. Some fifty years ago an emi- grant had cleared a field in this valley. His cellar was marked by a heap of stones. Every tree around it appeared to be crooked or twisted, yet huge and bulky. On one side of the dell tall, thick, brown fern grew among the trees. On the other side the sod was level, smooth, dry and grassy. Here the tables v jid spread in the shade. The air was plea- sant. It was a balmy day. The par*^y was not large. Jt was given by a wealthy manu- facturer to some friends from Boston. Mrs. Ross sat between her brother and his wife. On Mrs. Grey's other hand sat an eminent Boston divine, who had recently refused a wealthy church in New York. The Rev. Dr. Cyrus Hegel was a stout, middle aged man, with a smooth, beardless, fat face, dark eyes, a broad, bald fore- head, on which a single short curl of his beautiful brown wig was seen escaping from beneath his most unclerical hat. "It is not prayer alone," replied Mr. Grey, in answer to a remark from the Rev. Dr.^ "it is a resting on Jesus, a full, complete surrender of self to Him and trust in Him." " When I was in the East," replied Dr. Hegel, " I saw a praying mill, an ingenious little contrivance, which threw off so many prayers per minute, and could perform a stated number of revolutions per hour ; now you smile at these attempts to get the better of God, or to defend themselves against Him, and perhaps we subscribe funds and send men to open the eyes of Moguls and Tartars to the absurdity of this machine praying. But what of the absurdity of every one who stands up and gives to the Almighty a fund of unnecessary informa- tion, or entreats Him to change events governed by laws as absolute as existence." Ifebi^ PTC-NfC. 8i to a full, *' ' Ask and ye shall receive ' is the command," said Mr. Grey. The Rev. Dr. replied, " 1 consider the whole modern theory of prayer, is vitiated by various suppositions, that heaven needs to be informed upon our domestic and public matters ; that a natural law may be modified or suspended at human entreaty, that certain graces may be had for the asking and not for the practising." Mr. Grey replied, " If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." * " True, Mr. Cirey, but the most mischievous of these sup- positions is the one which believes that the laws of nature are not irreversible, but lie open to irruptions of ardent longing, so that the Divine mind may be influenced to reconsider itself, at the importunity ot its creatures." " Whatsoever ye ask in My name ye shall receive,'' — quietly rejoined Mr. Grey. "Oh ;" returned the Dr. blandly, when tender souls are drawn by holy pity to the side of sorrow and sickness, their presence imparts the succour their prayers invoke, and the error is apt to be made, that God has been prevailed upon ; when it is not Divine nature but human which the prayer has affected." "Then is it to be inferred that Christ uttered a falsehood, and meant to delude his hearers ?" said Mr. Grey. " Does it not appear, my Dear Grey, that we are making our prayers to be worthless; that this mightiest of instincts, which draws the soul towards the Unseen, this instinct mighty as love, deep as life, has gone wrong. But if we can rid our religious feelings of this old superstition, that God waits to be inheated, and that we can trade so much devotion, for such and such gains, then, we can begin to understand what true praying is." i ! V''\ m\ :iMlt Bi 82 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. I " Such are my views ! Dr. Hegel," said Mrs. Ross helping herself to a sandwich that the Dr. offered her. "Yes, Mrs. Ross, true prayer is when inspiration flows into a poet's heart and asks for nothing, but receives, and receiving rejoices, this mental gesture has in it the essential quality of praying." " What would the dying thief have said to this mental ges- ture ?" — interposed Mr. Grey in a slightly sarcastic manner. " If we keep out the notion of affecting God, how beautiful and natural is the whole movement of a man to establish a sin- cere friendship with the Mind who formed his gifts ;" continued Dr. Hegel addressing Mrs. Ross and taking no notice of Mr. Grey's remark. ^ " God be merciful to me a sinner," is the spirit of prayer ;" added Mr. Grey, but any further remark was interrupted by a person enquiring for Dr. Hegel. " It is not often," said Mr. Grey as his wife and sister retired from the table " that we hear such a strange mixture of blas- phemy and religion — of rank infidelity and pretended pure reverence for God." " Why George, Dr. Hegel is a most talented and scholarly man." By this time they had gained the croquet ground, where swings were shaded by spicy firs, — and white hands performed marvellous feats in archery. Mrs. Ross sighed as she watched them; other friends joined Mrs. Grey. Mary silently withdrew from the group, wandered along the dell and s>. .c^ed herself in the grove, on a seat almost concealed by the tall ferns. Dr. Hegel's remark sank into her soul. She had gifts, that fact she well knew — but what friendship had she with the Mind which formed these gifts } Not any. u the ::tll PIC-NIC. 83 that the A flash of the keenest agony shot through her soul, as she thought of friendship with God ; and she bereaved of her hus- band: God had taken him. Burying her face in her hands, her whole life seemed, without any effort on her part, to pass before her. She had been moral, she had been kind to the poor, a good wife, a patient mother, and she had always admired the good, the beautiful, and the true ; yet she was wretched. God was not her friend. In her present state of mind she could not ac- quiesce in His providences, because they were so unfriendly. In the hopes, the joys, and the business of the world, .she had no interest ; she was dead to them. She was aroused from her sad reverie by Winnie, for the pic- nic party were to walk a few rods to meet the evening train, and return to Elmsdale. After tea, the ladies sat in the study. — Mr. Grey was visiting a sick man. Mrs. Ross was almost hidden in the easy chair, her favourite seat. She appeared to be watching Mrs. Grey, who was busily engaged braiding a red dress for Everett. " There, Mary," said Mrs. Grey, smiling, " is a letter George wrote to you when he was in Easton, and it arrived by this mail." " It appears to have been over half the Union," said Mary. " Suppose I read it aloud, Winifred ?" " Do, please," was the reply. " Easton. " My Dear Sister, — I was too busy to answer your remark on Provi- dence in rvy last. Providence — or the wakeful, watchful care of our Heavenly Father, keeping as the apple of His eye, all that trust in Him. God's particular Providence reaches to the most particular and minute objects and events, and becomes general iiy taking in eveiy particular. "The individual is not lost in the general, nor is the general neglected for the individual. What a difficult mysterious letter book is Providence. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. 1^ .past, stops short, so we, believing, may safely rest ; for God knows what is best for our everlasting good. " George. " :iii' " Winifred," said Mrs. Ross, after a few moments of silence, ** I do not understand George, Dr. Hegel or you." " Why ?" " Dr. Hegel talks about forming a friendship with the Divine mind. How can I do it ? George writes about Providence. Why should I be punished by losing my husband, when num- bers who make no profession are left in the enjoyment of com- forts ?" " Mary, dear, do you suppose that a mere profession is going to save your soul ?" " What am I to do ? I want to be happy. How can I attain it ?" " By looking to Jesus," replied Winnie. " That," said Mrs. Ross, " is ever your story ! Now, I beg of you to explain your meaning. In writing, please," she added, as her sister began to speak ; and with a "good-night," she left the room. ALONE. 85 CHAPTER XI. ALONE. "The wind bloweth where it listeth." SEPTEMBER.— I opened my desk, but the full moon shone so lovingly on the crimson chair which I had wheeled to the window, that I left communing with ^^ the world within, to gaze on the world without. The grey river tapping on the shelving shore of shifting sand, the sombre row of willows shading the street, wooed me from my pen. Winter, with its waste of snow, Spring with its over- flowing brooks. Summer wrapped in its flowing mantle, and Autumn recall, in their every pulse of wind and wave, in their every change of light or gloom, my old affection for the dead, for the silent dweller in the silent grave in Woodlawn. " George and Winnie are away for a few days. I must again read the letter which I sat down to answer. " Dear Mary, — What I mean by resting on Jesus is simply this : Be- lieve and be happy. From the sad hour when Adam and his hapless wife stood outside the guarded gate which closed between him and his loved Eden, man's eager inquiry has been yours : ' How am I to find the true felicity ?' Every one since that day has disregarded the experience of every other one, and must for himself delve into the region of mind or matter, in pursuit of the very rest which Jesus alone can give ! Disappointment always has been his reward. " Look into your own heart, my dear Mary, and see if your own expe- rience proves this statement. Were you ever truly happy ? But you may say, ' If the circumstances had been different, I would have been happy.' Solomon is a case in point ; he moved and acted every inch a king. He 86 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. i I Vi I had all that money, station and health could give. When happiness pre- sented her roll for signature, he wrote, 'Vanity and vexation.' Solomon's testimony is the testimony of humanity. « •* ' How can I be hai)py?' To this question, as to many another weary, anxious query of man's wistful, unsatisfied heart, when Jesus came, he liim- self was the answer. " ' I am the Truth,' was his answer to the query oft repeated, ' What is truth ?' ** * If a man die, shall he live again ?' *' *I am He that liveth, and was dead,' the lone watcher in Patmos heard Jesus say to him. *' ' Oh ! for to know each other in heaven ! Shall we ?* sighs each sobbing one, as the damp earth hides the beloved. " Jesus said, * Many shall come from the East and the West, and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the Kingdom of Heaven.' '* * How can God be just, yet forgive sins ?' ** 'I have borne thy iniquities : go in peace,' said Jesus. ' Thy sins are forgiven !' "Who is This that forgiveth sins ? Jesus; Immanuel ; God with us. Therefore, go in peace. This peace, which is not of earth, is the earnest that we rest in Jesus. " My sister, cast your burden on Jesus and rest in Him. Then you will leam that all other sources of happiness were only like a glow-worm's spark, which, grasped in the dark, morning revealed tobea rayless speck of yellow dust. "Yours truly, " Winifred Grey. " To this letter I did send the following answer : — " 'Dear Winnie,— Thanks for your kind letter ; still I am unable to appreciate its contents. Rest on Jesus, or even come to him ; how can I ? Last night I was holding a vigil. This mild, motionless, moonlight night, in early autumn, all vegetable life seemed, as it were, at a stand-still. The decay and death of the earliest ripenal vegetation were shrouded by the matured luxuriance which surrounded it. I sat and watched the full moon, with scarred face, make her way far up in the heavens, while grove, fence and stack flung long shadows on the fruitful earth. IT ALONE. 87 tREY. " * I thought how soon this earth's beauty must pass away. Already everything seemed to grow pale, pulseless, passionless, preparatory to leaf- less trees, and cold, snow-clad fields. Awe first filled my mind ; next a vague fear, a shadowy dread. I felt God was there ! I closed the shutter, turned up the lamp, carelessly opened a book the nearest at hand, and read the dream of the German poet, part of which I transcribe ; ' God called man in a dream into the vestibule of Heaven, saying, ' Come up hither and I will shew thee the glory of my house :' and to his angels who stood about his throne, he s?.id : * Take him, strip him of his robes of flesh ; cleanse his affections ; put a new breath into his nostrils ; but touch not his human heart, the heart that fears, and hopes, and trembles. A moment and it was done, and the man stood ready for his unknown voyage. Under the gui- dance of a mighty angel, with sound of flying pinions they sped away from the battlements of heaven. Sometimes, on the mighty angel's wings, they fled through Saharas of darkness, wildernesses of death. "'At length, from a distance not counted, save in the arithmetic of heaven, light beamed upon them — a sleepy flame — as seen through a hazy cloud. *' 'They sped on in their terrible speed to meet the light ; the light with lesser speed came to meet them. In a moment the blazing of suns around them — a moment the wheeling of planets ; then came long eternities of twilights, then again, on the right hand and on the left, appeared more con- stellations. " ' At last the man sank down, crying, ' Angel, 1 can go no further ; let me lie down in the grave, and hide myself from the infinitude of the uni- verse, for end there is none !' ' F^nd there is none ; end there is none?* de- manded the angel: and from the glittering stars that shone around, there came a choral shout, ' End there is none !' ' End there is none ?' demanded the angel again ; ' and is it this that awes thy soul ?' I answer, end there is none — to the universe of God !' ** * Lo, also, there is no -beginning !' I closed the book in very dread. I dared not put out the light. No end — no beginning ! stood before me, an awe-begotten presence. Instantly memory, keys in hand, with stealthy tread stepped to her silent chamber, unlocked each long forgotten secret closet, and revealed each dusky skeleton. Each fleshless, fibreless ghost of a long-gone pleasure had ' idol* written upon it. There had been a time when imagination had clothed these ghastly remembrances with rainbow hues, and I had hugged them to my heart, fondling them, dreaming only !:- 'V m ,14 \ 88 THK TWILIGHT OK FAITH. W i of the present. As memory grimly turned the rusty key in these unused doors one by one, these lost joys, these secret hopes, these inner aspirations were shown to have been valueless !' '* ' Idols, as truly as Juggernaut I "Talk of resting on Jesus, believe me, Winnie, I cowered in abject terror at the thought of the horrors which must fullow the sinner, even if his only pun- ' ishment were to wander alone, through this wilderness of worlds for ever and for ever. Alone ! Alone, Winnie ; that is what you know nothing about. The terror which the thought of eternity occasioned, overcame me ; but Edward's image came to my thoughts and I cried myself to sleep. " ' Yours truly, " • Maky.' " ' P.S. The children are all well, and send their love to you. M. R. " ' P.S. I must try and be better before 1 can have any friendship with Jesus. " ' Some may come, but how can I ? Can 1 ever bring myself to feel that my husband's loss is . . . Well, I cannot finish the sentence. f *' 'Dearest Mary, — Let me assure you that Jesus says. Whomsoever will, let him come.' This surely includes all. I can certify that He is the fount- ain of perfect peace. Come and join yourself to Him. Let your thoughts rest on Jesus, You know what 1 mean by thoughts resting on One whom you cannot see ? — your thoughts in company or in solitude, in day or in darkness, rest on your lost husband. Turn them, I beseech you, on the Brother, who was dead, and yet is alive for evermore. ' I am,' says Jesus, * the resurrection and the life; he that believetli in Me shall never die.' ' I will raise him up at the last day.' ' He that believeth in Me shall never die'! What a transporting thought! 'believeth in Me.' The very words seem to stagger under the weight of joy and promise they carry. " 'Your husband was a believer in Jesus. tThen he is not dead ; only absent with his Master. Therefore think of Jesus — of the heavenly home where your welcome is awaiting you. Look to Jesus. Seek peace, which is the key to the heavenly inheritance. Rest on Jesus, and go in faith, that your lost one is not dead, but alive. ^"WlNlFREU.'" THK PICTURE. 80 .■n CHAPTER XII. THE PICTURE. 4> ith only home which I, that " lie hath lieen dead four days." INN IE invited me to visit Mrs. Mayo, a widow lady. I consented. The path lay through a mile of wood- land. I used to enjoy such a walk with my dear husband ; now it may assist me in recalling his mem- ory. "At Elmsdale I hear so much talk about Jesus, that my thoughts seem to linger about Him, as they used to linger about the matchless painting of ' Ecce Homo,' which I saw at the Exhibition in Paris. " Then I believed Jesus was only the man. If he be indeed ' (iod,' as the passages to which George refers seem to prove ; then love to Him may make life bearable ; even life with a loss like mine. I will again carefully read the references, to see if He be really (iod and man, in one person, for ever. " Winnie comes leisurely down stairs. How cool and com- fortable she is in that white suit, her straw hat tied by a black ribbon. I am oppressed with heat, in this black dress and heavy crape bonnet. " I will join Winifred on the lawn. When I do not feel in a mood for talking, she very considerately makes no remark. In silence we go through the orchard, across the tield into a path which leads through the wood. " How I used to enjoy a woodland ramble. To saunter, leaning on Edward's arm, where some fair flower silently asks !i I 1 ,: ! 1 90 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. 1/ I ii?l the eye to look upon it. Some glad, glossy bird solicits the ear Avith a song. " How intense and profound the ennotion, whilst the soul is thus appealed to through all its human sensibilities, by the beauty and the joy perpetual in woodland solitudes. " Then was summer in the woods, and the summer in my soul of youth and prosperity. " The instinct of the bird teaches it, when summer here is over, to fly to other lands for other summers. My summer is ovtr. The winter of adversity has come. I am gradually nearing that land where sorrow and death may not come, but that gives me no hope. " What is faith in Christ ? What is it to rest on Jesus ? Some angel whispers, or some felt want of the soul says, * come and see !' "Winnie sits on a mossy log to rest. We could spend hours here, this beautiful and balmy afternoon. " There is a blackbird singing a loud, clear, mellow song ; our presence has disturbed him. He flits along on strong wing, his yellow bill just seen in the distance, and is out of sight among the bushes. Now he alights on that sapling, the whole summer air below him full of the glitter and hum of insect life ; there he resumes his song. His note, clear and distinct, as if calling on all around him tb lift a louder song. Now his mel- ody has subsided, but the source of song is yet in his happy throat. He adjusts and smooths his feathers, spreads his wings and drops among the silvery leaves, while the other fainter hymns which his bold rhapsody had drowned, are now distinctly heard, and seem to grow broader and louder in the silence. " A flock of crows has settled on the old decayed, burly black birch which stands on the side of the brook ; its only living arm waving a mass of shadowy foliage across the path. THE PICTURE. 9' leear oul is »y the in my ere is ner is dually le, but Some le and spend ' song ; g wing, )f sight I whole ict life ; t, as if lis mel- happy ads his r fainter istinctly nee. i, burly its only le path. " Winnie watched the birds. Our seat, which nature had begun to win to herself, and to melt into her own bosom, was more touching to my heart, more congenial to my spirit. " The mouldering log is beautiful in decay ; not because para- site mosses creep over it, whose soft velvety leaves conceal its rottenness, not that wild flowers, with creamy waxen stalks, have raised themselves on this ruin of fallen greatness ; but it is because they remind me of the flowers on the grave, of the quiet, log-like rest, the long, dreamless sleep of the dead. " The most gorgeous of butterflies has arisen from this soft couch, and fluttered away to the sunlight, above this shaded ravine, as if to raise our sad thoughts above this death to a higher life. " A dragon-fly poises on its pointed wing, rests a moment over my lap, then darts away to the sunny stone in the margin of the rippling brook. " A crow rises with a coaxing caw ; all the flock instantly follow the leader. "• We rise, and leisurely follow the cool path around the hill. Mrs. Mayo receives us at the door. Winnie and Mrs. Mayo instantly glide into crochet and netting ; the relative merits of short stitch or long, and whether screens or bannerets are nicest for the fancy fair. " As Winifred rose to say good-bye, she enquired for Mr. Hill. Mrs. Mayo tapped at a door and was answered by a pleasant, ' Come in.' " To inquiries after his health, Mr. Hill smilingly pointed to his work, saying, ' I am so much benefited by your country air, that Dr. Campbell has mitted me to begin the long talked- of illustrations for Tenr.y I's ' In Memoriam.' , " Mrs. Grey stepped to the easel. !■ 'I ir B' 92 THK TWILJdHI OF FAITH. " ' Yes !' said Mr. Hill, in answer to her look of admiration ; ' I want to throw into Mary's face, the ' Love.' " The subject chosen for illustration was * Lazarus returned home from the grave. Its effect on Mary.' . "BEHOLD A MAN RAISED UP BY CHRIST. f "Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, • No other thought her mind admits, But he was dead, and there he sits. And he that brought him back is there. "Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the life indeed. "All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete ; She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears. "Thrice blessed whose lives are faithful prayers. Whose loves in higher love endure ; What souls possess themselves so pure, Or is there blessedness like theirs ? " ' Mrs. Grey, you have doubtless noticed the burning look of a little child, when he has unexpectedly received something from his mother ; how he will turn from the gift and rest his eyes, filled with a glow, a wealth of contentment in them, upon her face ; such is the look I wish to convey. When her ardent gaze turns from the living brother's face, to rest upon the Life indeed.' " * I should suppose that love is more easily felt Xhd^n painted ^ said Mrs. Grey, dreamily. <( ed t( has ook of thing St his upon ardent e Life lintedy THE PICTURE. 9J *' ' Brush never conveyed to canvas a greater reahty. The love of J esus satisfies the hungry soul. The love which rests on Jesus seeks no change,' replied Mr. Hill. " ' It sends missionaries to savage men in distant lands,' re- marked Mrs. Mayo. " ' Some persons exist, they do not live ; others with the pas- sions, the will, the imagination, with their power, force, and creative energy, all centred in Jesus, make life. They have revealed to them a world of which thousands, even in this happy country are ignorant,' said Mr. Hill, in reply to Mrs. Mayo's remark, " ' Is that work, Mr. Hill ?' " ' Such are the true workers. We cannot, like Mary, pour our gifts over his human feet, but we can dig in the sinks of moral pollution, — out of shells of sin wash pearls to adorn the dear Redeemer's crown,' said Mr. Hill. " * Love should constrain us, not to live to ourselves, but to Jesus, by doing good to all mankind,' said Mrs. Mayo. " ' Love resting on Jesus, I am sure 1 should be able to paint,' said Mr. Hill, attentively regarding the unfinished picture ; ' for long years ago, when every earthly purpose, like a shattered column, was suddenly broken off, then day was wearisome to me ; night filled my sleepless eyes with tears. I cried, ' Lost, lost. Lord, hadst thou been here, my earthly comforts had not died.' *' ' I found an angel of the night : The voice was low, the look was bright ; lie looked upon my cross and smiled ; His words were hard to understand.' t ** * The Lord is thy Shepherd ; thou shalt not want.' I look- ed to the Shepherd, and followed. Often since that day He has led me into miry places, trials, difficulties, sickness, bereave- W r I I i I 4" 94 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. m^ ments. He delivered me from evil ; so I learned that he was all-powerful. In trials, I learned the all-sufficiency of Jesus. If He had not led me into temptations, where the evil that was deeply hidden, which lurked in the secret recesses of my heart, had had an opportunity to leap into close embrace with its kin- dred evil without, I would never have known the security in the saying, ' My grace is sufficient for thee.' 1 dried my tears, tightened my complaining lips, and strength led my nerveless hands. 1 looked to Jesus. 1 saw that when He obeyed the law, my sins added a severer pang to his sufferings. He had atoned for my sins, so I could be as one with God.' " * We do not, like Mary, have our dead loves restored to us," said Mrs. Mayo. " Mr. Hill replied : ' Often, since I followed the footsteps of the Good Shepherd, has He rolled away the stone from the graves of memory. One by one my buried loves came forth ; the bandages, in which sense had bound them, were loosed, and dropped off ; unmuffled and unshrouded, they appeared reali- ties, but unable to give happiness or to satisfy an immortal soul in time or in eternity. Then were my tears dried. By faith I saw him as plainly as Mary saw Him. My faith is daily going on wider, and widening. I have marks on the spiritual shore as distinct as the tidal marks on the sea shore. I see Jesus. His humanity is at the right hand of God, but His divine nature is unlimited, fills all space, and is in the house of every one of His people over the whole world. His divine nature telegraphs to His human heart all that is occurring in the heart and his- tory of His people, so that His human heart feels towards me just as if He were sitting in this room. I believe He is now always as really beside me as He was beside Mary and Martha, at the grave. I am as near to Him as John was when he lean- ed on his bosom.' Sol whici must I beaui distal) ually Tol \l THE PICTURE. 95 fas us. vas art, Kin- the jars, iless , the had id to ;ps of n the forth ; d, and reali- |a\ soul faith 1 going shore Jesus, nature lone of ;graphs id his- ■ds me jis now ^'lartha, tc kan- " * Then you suppose that your sickness was sent in love ?' said Mrs. (rrcy. " * Certainly, ' rs. Clrey, for it has enabled me more closely to study Christ, — a foretaste of the employment of heaven. Study- ing the mystery of redemption will form one employment of the redeemed, and at every fresh disclosure, the grand chorus, 'Worthy the F.amb/ will be taken up by the happy bands.' " Winifred shook hands with Mr. Hill. She and Mrs. Mayo joined Mrs. Ross in the jiarlour, where she had remained a si- lent listener. Mrs. Mayo put on her hat, and accompanied them in their homeward walk. She and Mrs. Grey were busy discussing some details of the fancy fair. There is something spiritual in the coming on of evening, — *' Kindly calling Earth's many children to repose. Soon night spreads her curtain thick and far, And takes it do\vn by a bright star. Soft fleecy clouds float all aiound, And fire-flies sparkle on the ground, While on each vagrant zephyr heard The murmur of the stream-like bird Singing some wild and wondrous lay. But I am sad. " . . . . So mused Mrs. Ross. She had often thought, that the heart which throbbed not with unwonted emotions in a sunset walk, must be cold indeed. Now she felt no pleasure — saw no beauty — in those lightning shadows which stretched from the distant hiils — in the long, quivering lines of light — in the grad- ually forming night colours of the woods. Too-hoo, too-hoo, too-whit, too-hoo. " An owl ! — there he I ' ! 96 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. I goes," said Winifred, turning and laying her hand on Mary's arm. How serenely beautiful that owl's noiseless flight ! A flake of snow winnowed through the air could not be more softly silent, as he slips off that old tree, which leans from the bank above the ravine, and glides over the course of the brook in the shadow of the wood. How like the thought of a dream ! A night hawk rises on spotted wing from the path at their feet, utters his peculiar cry, flits so low that he just skims ..he bushes ; settles, only to rise again so near as almost to tempt a stranger to follow him. The shades are fast deepening over the woods, and daylight disappearing when the ladies arrived at Elmsdale, where Mrs. Mayo's wagon was waiting for her. Mrs. Grey attends to her house and the children. Mrs. Ross retires to her room to muse about the picture and the painter, in whom she recognized one of her husband's dearest friends. This recognition prevented her < ! Iloating on Ilim ! surrounded and covered by 'Um ! not lost in Him ! still preserving its own identity ! '* ' A few years fled. This loved one, in the fust l)loom of manhood, sud- denly called out of the class-room at Harvard, lay down to die. Three days fever wrestleil with that powerful man. Then came a change. 'How he raves !' said a listener to his pastor " ' He is praying. A prayer in Latin.' " 'Can you trust Jesus now?' en(|uired one, leaning over his bed. "'Yes. Why should not I?' was the ready answer, and the pu/zled enquiry ; as if the poor fever-stricken brain was unable to realize why the speaker said no7v. "'Through the valley of the shadow, Christ was with him ; his eyes closed, to open beyond the gloom where faith was changed to sight. " ' Dear Mary, can you trust Jesus now, or why not? " 'Yours truly, "'Grey,'" " This lovely October afternoon, calm and bland, I have devoted to watching the silky films of the gossamer float slowly on the air. The leaves on the elm tree are ruby and golden. The swallows are gathered in council on yonder roof, prepara- tory tu taking their departure across die green sea. "They flit hither and thither in strange confusion. The believer in Providence affirms that the wing of each bird has marked upon it the place to which it shall fly, and let its flight be ever so vagrant, rejoicing to follow the fancies of its own wild will, it cannot diverge from the track unerring wisdom has designed for it. • Now the swallows go, except some loiterers, unwilling to leave their homes. They, poised on delicate wing, whirl over their old mud nests, and with prying eye peep into their old I'^:i-!l I ir ^ \ I04 THE TWILKJHT OF FAITH. il; II habitations, as if loth to set out upon the unknown, untracked journey. Yet wheel about as they may, above, around, east, west, north, soiilh, wheresoever they please, all are ^ided by God's providential hand. " In contrast to the swallows, are yonder sand-martins, which chase each other, turning almost summersaults on circling wing over the spot where the smooth face of the bank was perforated with holes, in which they had reared their young. A slip of the sand has carried the nests into the river. They rush, heed- less, headlong over the ' holes ' with no sand round them. A gust of wind moves the russet leaves which fall in showers from the chestnut tree, and tumbles half the golden mellowing pears on the sward. Over the spruce hedge comes the buzzing of the bees, and the sound of the bubbling milk, as it falls into the pail. So still is the air that the thud of each purple plum, or rustle of the golden maple leaf is distinctly heard. I read Grey's letter, and leaned my head on my hand to consider. I looked far beyond flitting bird and falling leaf, far, far beyond the grave and its dreamless slumber even to the empty tomb ; for fruit will grow, and bird return, so the grave will open and the soul resume its body, but eternity will never, never end. Now^ I may seek Christ. Then^ it is too late. I knew I was lost — lost without hope. O God ! Oh, Christ, be merciful to me a sinner. Oh, Holy Spirit, help thou mine unbelief On my knees in speechless prayer, 1 felt that it was my own fault. I had tried to be holy in my own right. I had made God a Liar. I would not be saved in God's way. Now I looked at Christ — realized that He, "s my surety, had done all ; that He spread over me the robe or His spotless righteousness, in it I could appear before God. I was willing to do any thing, per- fectly willing to throw myself on God's hand. I wished my soul to become as a blank sheet of paper, and I there and then ^ REST. 105 prayed that the Holy Spirit, God, would write on it whatever was agreeable to His will. " I saw how in Jesus God could, in a legal point of view, ' be just, yet the justifier of those who believe in Jesus.' I believed that Jesus could comfort even me, if I were only willing to be comforted. "As I looked far into my inne self, and realized thai I was so totally unable to help myself, my heart was filled with unutter- able anguish. While I was looking for proof of the willingness of Jesus to help, I found that he had always loved even poor me. A new strength seemed to pervade my soul. I knew I was willing to be comforted, and I saw that for Jesus Christ's sake I was justified. '' I learned that my love for the good, the beautiful, and the true, was only selfishness. I sat in silent adoration. I won- dered how I could ever have doubted Jesus to be the Divine Saviour. " I worshipped Him for the restraining grace which had led me to live a moral life. • " I was like the bird, all song. All the song a prayer. " I begged Jesus for His own name's sake, for His own glory, to enable me, a poor sinner, to honour Him, to live so, that as long as I lived, my time might be devoted to Him. In that hour I loathed all the idolatry of which I had been guilty, in living to and for self " A sweet peace gradually stole over me. I kissed the sleep- ing children, and remembered how little I had done to comfort or teach them. " * He is risen, He is risen ; come see the place where the Lord lay,' was the burden of my dreams. i!'! iiii il I; > \ " Four weeks since my last entry in my diary. io6 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. " My faith, my trust, is no twilight faith. It is a clear, earnest trust that He, as my Owner, will give me everything that is or ever will be needful for me. If I went to Heaven to-day, I should look for Jesus. To behold Him would be my only wish. " I read the Scriptures as if I had never read them before. " The sermon on the mount, ' Blessed are they that mourn,* seems to me to be more noble, more lofty, more truly sublime than any utterance of sage or philosopher. Moreover, it is true." I HOME AGAIN. 107 CHAPTER XIV. HOME AGAIN. " The poor ye have always with you." |lVE years after the date of our last chapter, a lady en- E tered a house in Crescent Court. It was tenanted by 'f l^^M many poor families. The house looked bare, c Id, and ^'c'^v filthy. Rude, ragged children appeared on the ftight of stairs, or stared from half-opened doors, as she passed through the long entry. The lady tapped at a door, and was answered by a low "Come in." The room she entered was small, but clean. A table, two very old chairs, and a little low bedstead, was almost the only furniture. A lame boy, of some ten years of age, lay on the bed. A smile flitted over his wasted face, s the lady entered the cold room. " Good morning, Teddy," said she, in a cheerful voice, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. " How are you ?" " Pretty well, thank'ee," answered the boy. " Where's mother, Teddy ?" " Gone home with Mrs. Morley's wash," replied Teddy. " Will she be home soon, my boy ?" " I expect her every moment," replied Teddy. '' Oh ! ma'm, somebody has sent us a basket full of meat and pies, for Thanks- giving, to-morrow. Mother is going to buy some wood, if she gets pay for the wash, so she can cook our dinner to-morrow. PP I >'' I'l-! T08 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. 1;^^ She fried me a bit on Mrs. Roone/s fire, it was real tip-top. We had no wood to-day," added the boy, his pleasure some- what damped by the thought. "Who sent the basket, Teddy?" "Jesus Christ, I guess," said the boy, reverentially. "Mam- ma says he sent you and all the good things. Did I tell you of the bread, too ?" " Yes, my boy. Now let me tell you of the bread which came down from heaven ?" " Yes 'm," said Ted. " I will read to you about it !" " Do you know Jesus Christ, ma'am ?" " Yes, Teddy, I know him. Why do you ask ?" " Because," answered Teddy, giving an earnest look into the lady's face ; " You, maj^ be, might tell him about the wood ? I am very cold !" The lady looked at the poor shivering creature, lying under a thin quilt and an old cloak in that cheerless, sunless little room. She shut her pocket Testament, and said to Teddy, " Do you really believe that He would send you wood, if I should tell Him?" "I am sure of it ! Sure as sixty." So the lady took Ted's faith for her text, and told him that if he would ask Jesus in the same way that he had asked her, He would give him everything that it was needful for Teddy to have to fit him to go to that land where he would never be cold or hungry, and where he would see the face of the good Jesus. " Why can't I see Him now ? You said one day ' He was here!'" Your mother was here when she was washing in the entry. a Why could you not see her ?" said the lady. HOME AGAIN. log )o lid lat to )ld kus. ^as bry. " Because she was behind the partition," replied Teddy. " So the good Jesus is hid from you ; yet He hears when yo:i pray to Him. He will give you better bread than that in the basket." '* That tasted real nice, — good enough for me," said Teddy. The lady baoe him good-morning. At the door she met his mother, who told her that she had got no pay for the washing. As they stood in the half-open door, they heard Teddy pray : " O, good Jesus, do send us some wood ; I am so cold; very cold." The lady bade good-bye, and Teddy's prayer was soon an- swered, by a man leaving a load of wood, which he said was paid for, and no mistake. " I know Jesus paid him for to bring it to us. Mother, I am sure he did," added Teddy, " because the lady said to ask Him." Teddy told his mother he wanted ano^^her slice of bread and bit 01 meat. The bread that the lady talked about might be good, but plenty of this loaf which Jesus sent is good enough for us. Mother, don't you think so ?" The lady, on leaving the court, stopped a street-car, took a seat, and rode to B street, turned down a lane, and entered a court where the old ' lUgy brick houses stood so near the nar- row street as almost to exclude the r :light. Loose sand and heaps of broken brick, from dwellings, which were being removed to open up a new street, obstmcted the way. She knocked at a door, but no answer was returned. The lady waited, hesitated, but at length opened the door. The room which she entered was dark, dingy, low, and filled with steam from a tin of clothes which were boiling on the stove in the middle of the room. The mistress of the house was bus- 'ij m ill m ^ 112 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. !i " Please, Grandpa, allow me to lay up your book," said Thirza. " There is the dinner-bell." " What would you think, Mary, of an old man like me being invited to a skating party?" said Mr. Sprague. " Grandpa is going," said Eddie. " I am glad he has consented to go with you, my son," said Mrs. Ross. " In the evening I hope we will have your company to the Music Hall," said Mr. Sprague, addressing Mrs. Ross. " 1 want you to call at the Hotel to see Mr. Beech," Mrs. Ross replied. "True, I have not seen him for a week," replied Mr. Sprague. After dinner, Mrs. Ross assisted grandpapa to put on his wrappings, for the day was very cold for the season, a sharp frost having set in very severe for the time of year. The boys brought out their skates, buttoned up their warm coats, and jumped into the wagon, Fulton took the reins, and trotted away for the ponds. Mrs. Ross watched from the window until the sound of the wheels died away, then called Ellen to tell her of the party which she expected to dine with her on the morrow. What had wrought such a change in Mrs. Ross since we had left her two years ago in Elmsdale ? The converting power of the gospel. She was a living answer to the old query, " If a man die, shall he live again?" Her activities, her cheerfulness, her denials of self, proved her to be the returning prodigal, busied, interested about her Father's business. She was the one that had been dead and was alive again. She had been lost and was found. She was now accumu- lating proofs for that great day, " When the Son of Man shall come in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then shall HOME AGAIN. 113 He sit on the throne of His glory : and before Him shall be gathered all nations, and He shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats : and He shall set the sheep on His right hand and the goats on the left. Then shall the King say to those on his right hand, ' Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world : for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink, I was a stranger, and ye took me in : naked and ye clothed me : I was in prison, and ye came unto me." " Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren ye have done it unto me." All work for Jesus is only an evidence that we are in Jesus. Some few weeks after Mrs. Ross at Elmsdale had been ena- bled by the Holy Spirit to see " how God could be just, and the justifier of those who believe," she received a letter from Mr. Sprague, now the business partner of the firm of Ross & Co. This letter related to the settling of the property until the children should attain their majority. It also informed her that the writer was dangerously ill at a hotel in New York. His signature at the close of the flper attested the fact of his weakness. To the surprise and delight of Mr. and Mrs. Grey, Mrs. Ross announced her intention of going to New York. Her brother and his wife accompanied her. The physicians gave them hope that with careful nursing he might rally. The minister and his wife returned to Elmsdale, leaving Mrs. Ross in charge of the invalid. After a month's careful nursing, tho doctors allowed him to return home. " Home !" said the old gentleman, " I have no home, except m 114 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. II if a boarding house. What am I to do among strangers ! Mary, Mary, your kindness has spoiled me." " I have a house in Boston, dear gra^'dpa ; you can come home with me," said Mrs. Ross. So the matter was settled. Mrs. Ross wrote to her tried housekeeper ; Ellen's joy was unbounded. Much to Mrs. Ross's surprise, when she and Mr. Sprague arrived in Boston, they found Winifred at her house in B. Street. Mrs. Grey invited Mary to return to Elmsdale, also offering her stepfather a home for the winter. This offer Mrs. Ross declined, and begged the old gentle- man not to leave her home. Instead of Mrs. Ross going to Elmsdale, it was arranged that Fulton Grey should board with Mrs. Ross, when attending college in Boston. Mrs. Grey returned to Elmsdale. In due time Fulton, Eddie, and Thirza arrived at home. Many of Mrs. Ross's old friends called on her. Some of the number quickly dropped h^r acquaintance ; others shrugged their shoulders, remarking, " Poor thing, she is awfully changed," or '*Well, now, that is real mean." Mrs. Ross heeded not. New friends gathered around her, actuated by the same motives, and guided by the same views, which influenced her. Her children claimed a large share of her time. Mr. Sprague quietly made the house his home, and had his office removed to it. While an invalid, he had made Mrs. Ross partially acquainted with many of his schemes of benevolence. She had frequently visited some of the persons on his sick or poor list, as it seemed to her, for the pleasure it gave him to hear from them. Gradually, Mrs. Ross was led to visit these, as well as other HOME AGAIN. 115 his objects of charity, on her own account ; because she had learned that the blessedness of giving sympathy was even greater than that of giving money. Mrs. Ross was reading in the sitting-room, when the girl came in to say that " Dora Cribbens was in the dining-room." " Show her in, Ellen," said Mrs. Ross. Mrs. Ross gave the woman her hand in the most cordial manner. "How do you like your tenement?" enquired Mrs. Ross, when Dora had taken a chair. " Thanks to you, Mrs. Ross, for the fine flowers, my room is now very pleasant — I always was so fond of primroses," she answered. " I sent for you," observed Mrs. Ross, opening a package of gay coloured floss silk, and displaying a handsome embroidery pattern ; " I want a fire-screen worked from this pattern. I hope you can do it. Make your own price, but let me have it in time for our annual fair in the church — a lady has ordered one. Dora regarded the pattern attentively. She then selected the required colours, and returned the paper to Mrs. Ross. Her eye rested on a magazine on the table. "Are you fond of reading ?" said Mrs. R. " I used to be ; now I have little time and no books," she i^eplied. " Have you seen this work ?" said Mrs. Ross, handing her a Copy of the "Royal Preacher." She replied in the negative. Mrs. Ross offered to lend the book, which she thankfully .accepted. " Is Dickey thriving ? — coming to his appetite ? " said the lady. " He is indeed ! You little kn6w the company he is to me ; '!'■ T)l . i . t V I m \ to ' il II t: I, ii6 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. I sit and watch him for hours. My room has such i nice, sunny aspect, — Dickey's cage and your full-blown primrose in the window, make it quite homelike !'' she added, with a faint smile, which lighted up her face, and gave a gleam of beauty to the otherwise hard features. Her large black eyes were now dim, not so much from age, for she was not over thirty, as from a feeling that she was a "wronged woman," — one of the wronged women to which the society of decent womanhood refuses, with perhaps a reason- able instinct of self-protection, to give one inch of safe standing ground. So one fine morning Dora had thrown herself into the river Charles. She had been taken up by a policeman, " taken up tenderly, lifted with care," and restored to life an:l misery. A few in Mrs. Ross's set talked over Dora's sad case. One of the party had remembered her, a fearless, dashing girl, edu- cated in the same class at the public school. She, the poor girl, educated to enjoy as well as the rich girl, the latter enabled to gratify these tastes on the wealth produced by her parents ; the former fell under the burden — she could not produce enough to satisfy tastes cultured to their utmost capacity — poor girl, wronged in your education, which lifted you above your hard-handed, leather-aproned brothers. You bartered your woman's crown, and died to self-respect. Thr 3et Mrs. Ross moved in, felt that it might not be " too late." At least they resolved that it should be said, " we did what we could." A room was rented, fitted up, Dora carried thither, and supplied with work to enable her to pay the rent and to live. Her visitors' conversation was always cheerful and heartsome — every allusion to returning prodigals, or home and mother, were carefully avoided, as anything sensational only tended to ii I HOME AGAIN. 117 "too did irried rent minister to that want of self-control, which had been one of the chief or great sources of all her misery. In the course of a year, she was enabled to support herself. Mrs. Ross encouraged her to call at her house, and to go to church in the mornings. Grandpa and the boys in due time returned from the pond. The boys had enjoyed the exercise, although owing to the thinness of the ice, the pastime was a little dangerous. " Mother, Ben. Buist fell in, over head and ears ; but Ben. is the most daring boy in our school." *' And the least likely to heed a warning, I suppose," said grandpa. In the evening Mrs. Ross accompanied the boys to the lecture. The Music Hall was crowded. France was the subject. The lecturer, a rising young barris- ter, for two hours held his audience spellbound, as he traced the rise of the country, and depicted the capital as made by the genius of the Second Empire, the queen of modern cities. Now how fallen, fallen from her high estate ! The country overrun by the haughty foe, her armies beaten, her fortresst^s surrendered, and the banner of Germany carried in triumph by her ancient enemies through the streets of her once gay capital — Paris. " There !" said grandpa next morning at breakfast, " I neglect- ed to call at the hotel. Are you going out this morning, Mrs. Ross ?" " Yes — at ten," she replied. " I will accompany you, and we will call to see poor Leaf," said Mr. Sprague. " Room 42," answered the clerk in the office to the old gentle- 'II il ii8 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. U man, in reply to an enquiry. To room 42 Mrs. Ross and Mr. Sprague made their way on Thanksgiving morning. She gently opened the door, and they stepped softly into the room. The inner door of the parlour was wide open. On the bed lay the wasted form of the fine young man she and Mr. Ross had met in Paris. There he lay — a wreck. His life had not been squared by the rule of morality. One knelt by his bedside, praying for this erring, dying man.. Then, without rising, very slowly he read the twenty-third psalm. As he read, a shade of intense agony passed over the suffer- er's face. He clasped his thin, transparent hands, raised them slowly ; while the tears rolled down his wan cheek he mur- mured, " Oh, Christ have mercy upon me ! Save my soul ! Oh ! I am a sinner ! * I shall not want,' says the reader. Jesus have mercy upon me a sinner, — me — me — and then * I shall not want.' ' Jesus hears me ; I shall not want.' " He lay with his hands clasped, his lips moving. In a few moments his breath came quicker and shorter, his hands fell heavily on his bosom ; a convulsive spasm passed over him. Mrs. Ross stepped forward, and lifted his pillow. The lips moved, only one word was audible, Jesus have mer . I'll not " and he died. Mr. Hill — for he was the friend at his side — rang the bell, and left him to the care of the attendants. We shall pass over the family re-union at Mrs. Ross's. The thanksgiving dinner was a very pleasant affair. The children enjoyed themselves. Fulton sat by his mother ; Master Everett, a fine boy of seven, on his other side. ^* It will be my highest ambition to enchain an audience as HOME AGAIN. 119 lips rii that man did last night. What a mighty power he wields," said Fulton Grey, in a low tone to his mother. " We," said Mr. Sprague to Mrs. Grey, " to-day found a man much more nobly employed." " Why, Mr. Sprague, what could he have been doing ?" said Fulton, in a tone so earnest as to draw all eyes upon him. " Pointing the way to Heaven to a dying man !" he replied. Fulton looked abashed. " I thought, father, that that only required love, not :;reat talent." " Love is the mainspring, my boy. Yet when wealth and talent are also laid at the Master's feet by Mr. Hill, is it not noble ?" , " Although the world will not own it," replied Mr. Sprague. " The applause of the world is soon gone. Think which man the great unlashed eye regards with pleasure — the one who wins the applause of the full house, or the one who, through the long, lonely night, sits by the bed of death, and points to Him who takes away the sting." Mrs. Ross passed her arm round Winnie, and, turning to her brother, invited them into the library, which was brilliantly lighted. " I wished you to see these pictures and statuettes which Edward bought, but they were not unpacked before his death." Mr. and Mrs. Grey were delighted with these art treasures. " After my return from Elmsdale, in the Twilight of Faith, I thought I would never give any more attention to these things. I came in one day to sell an illustrated copy of Tennyson, which I knew would realize a handsome sum, to devote to a foreign charity. I opened the book and read ; — l-t! 1 20 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. '* * Yet pull not down my palace towers, Which are so lightly, beautifully built. Perchance I may return with others there, When I have purged my e[uilt.' " My heart has been purged, emptied of hopes, of happiness from earthly things. My guilt has been laid on Christ, and I trust each moment that His grace is sufficient for me. " Read that^ George. I find my library is a nice place for young people to spend an evening, which might be less profit- ably employed." Mr. Grey read : " THE PALACE OF ART. ** • • • • When the soul, She mould'ring with the dull earth's mouldering sod, Inwrapped tenfold in slothful shame. Lay there exiled from eternal God, Lost to her place and name ; '* And death, and life, she hated equally, And nothing saw, for her despair, / But dreadful time, dreadful eternity ! No comfort anywhere ; ** Remaining utterly confused with fears. And ever worse with growing time, And ever unrelieved with growing tears. And all alone in crime, *' Shut up as in a crumbling tomb, girt round With blackness as a solid wall. Far off she seemed to hear the dully sound Of human footsteps fall." "There," said Mrs. Ross, *'That human footfall my soul HOME AGAIN. I2r h-d was Christ In the Twilight of Faith He was the new ' • • • " I have found a new land, Make me a cottage in the vale, Where I may mourn and pray. Yet pull not down my palace towers." \ 122 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. CHAPTER XV. I COMPANY. *' If sinners entice thee : consent thou not." ULTON, mamma, wants y ju to call at Forty-second i street," said Thirza to her cousin. Christina was in the breakfast room, when Thirza came in with the message. " We will assist mamma in writing her invitations ; here is the list, for Fulton to add his friends," said the little girl to Christina, Fult. wrote two or three names. His sister glanced at them, and exclaimed, in a very decided tone, " We cannot invite Zeke Miller !" " Why not ?" enquired her brother. " I do not wish to give my reason, but will refer the matter to Aunt Mary," replied his sister. " All right, Christina. Can Claude Merrill have a place in your very select circle?" said Fult, adding another name to the list. " Is that the man we met in the boat yesterday ?" enquired Thirza. " The same," replied her cousin. " Who is he, Fult. ?" said his sister. " An old class-mate," replied Fulton. " We should be very particular in forming companionships ; po mamma told me." ♦' Aunt Mary gave me leave to introduce my friends ; and I COMPANY. 123 latter Lce in io the mired ships ; and I must include Ezekiel Miller and Claude Merrill, replied her brother, as he left the room. He met Claude in the street, and mentioned the coming party to him. " Can't go, old fellow," said Claude. " Why not ? enquired Fulton Grey, in astonishment. " Oh ! Mrs. Ross is pious ; now, I dislike pious women," he answered, very coolly. " Claude Merrill ! do I hear you aright. You dislike pious women ?" " I say so ! I do not wish to increase my acquaintance in that line," Claude replied, carelessly. Fulton G»-ey regarded him seriously, as he observed, ''• Your father is an elder in the church — your mother — " " One of the best of women ;" interrupted Claude. " Then, why do you speak so about pious women ?" persisted his friend. " I will tell you. You are acquainted with Zeke Miller ?" " Yes." " And know his failing ?" " Drink." " Yes ! poor fellow." " His mother is a pious woman 1" said Merrill, in a slightly ;sarcastic tone, " Her piety must be sorely tried," said Fulton, without not- icing the sneer. " I do not know about that ; she prays at sinners, and takes every opportunity of trotting herself out as a suffering saint, whom the Lord has afflicted in her drunken sons." <' Why Claude, how you talk." " Words of truth and soberness, Fulton Grey, I do assure you. After Zeke joined the Sons^ I urged him to go to prayer 124 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. IfiJl ii > H' meeting, and offered to go to his church. When his mother's turn came to address the meeting, she said that ' Strangers took away the freedom oi a meeting ;' but went on to tell how she blessed the good Lord that had delivered her in six troubles, and that in the seventh, that of her drunken sons, He would not forsake her !" " All eyes were of course directed to the spot where we sat. Zeke wondered what they would give for opera glasses." " In a week his name was struck off the temperance book." " Zeke seems a fine fellow, clever and good hearted, is he not?" said Fult. "He is ; and with new friends to break up his old associa- tions, might yet be saved," replied Merrill. " I should think it would be easy for him to have other com- pany, if he chose, Claude." " Not so easy. Fait., as you suppose ; every door in his mo- ther's set is shut against him. She had a sewing circle, lately, he came in the worse of liquor, and she had the sympathy, he the blame." "And very justly, too," observed Fulton, scarcely knowing what to think of his friend. " Something may yet be done to influence him ; I am re- solved to try," said Claude, so I will stay and keep him with me." " I have asked Aunt to invite him ; but I did not know he was so degraded." " All right, Fult., if Zeke is invited, count me one," said Clande gaily, " but, Fult., if your aunt has heard about him, I'll bet two to one that he is not invited." When Fulton Grey went ix. "o the sitting room to speak about Zeke's invitation, it was with a much less confident tone, than he had used to his sister in the morning. M COMPANY. 125 he wing re- with )W he said about [, than He spoke of him as an acquaintance tliat had been newly made, and enquired if it would be improper to introduce him. Mr. Sprague sat in the easy chair, his feet on the ottoman ; he had resumed the book which lay on his knee, when Fulton entered the room. " Poor fellow," said Mrs. Ross, in reply to her nephew. " What would you advise, Grandpa." Fulton looked at his Aunt in surprise ; his friend's character was known to her. " Invite him, certainly. Will he come ?" answered the old gentleman. " I never thought of his not accepting an invitation," replied Fulton. " I used to be acquainted with his mother," continued Mr. Sprague, "a well-meaning woman, religious so far as a burning desire to increase her own particular sect, deserves the name of religion." " What sort of a training did she give her family ?" "The worst that could be given to children, Mary. Mr. Miller was in his counting house from morning to night. He took an early breakfast, dined down town, tea at any hour he chanced to come home. Mrs. Miller seldom dined with the children ; she either had church friends with her, or was out to church meetings. The boys, with money when they wished it, soon began to care little for a home which no one made pleas- ant, and soon found companions outside. Boarding houses are not so bad as a home without home enjoyments. " I really wonder that parents can be so thoughtless," said Mrs. Ross. * " It is a sad thing to see young men die, by thc'r own folly, before they know what life is ; while parents toil to lay up money, for them to spend ! Miller has buried two son s." 126 THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH ( 'i**' V "Is there no hope that Zeke will take warning by the sad fate of his brothers ?'' enquired Fulton. " Yes, Fulton, if boys of his own age would be true to him, and to each other, instead of being led by such as he into wrong paths, would lead them into right ways, there would be hope," repHed his grandpa. " Fulton," said Mrs. Ross, addressing her nephew, " We must by every means in our power endeavor to win Zeke from his drinking companions." " Yes, Aunty, I will try." " Temperance people offer a drunkard the pledge, ' Go and be sober,' Christians can say, ' Believe on Jesus ; you will be saved. It is only the grace of God that has made us to vliffer.' "' Pointing and leading,' your Uncle Ross used to tell us, was the only way to reclaim a sinner." "'Pointing to heaven, and leading the way,' I suppose he' meant.'' " You remember, Mary, the murderer who was in jail, that the chaplain told to repent, before he should be hanged, who only laughed when he told him about the holy example of Christ. " One day a man, wealthy, young, and talented, came in, seated himself by the side of the hardened man ; took his hand, and in a voice of the deepest sympathy said, ' My friend, I am sorry to see you here ; but Jesus died for us sinners !' " ' For us ?' he exclaimed, looking the man in the face. " ' Yes, for us. Jesus died for you and for me. His blood cleanseth from all sin,' replied the visitor. " ' Do you know who I am ? who you are talking to ? I am a murderer !' "'I know it' . " ' How can you put yourself on a level with me ?' COMPANY. 127 i( ( ft in, and, am hood am Because I require the same blood to cleanse me as you do ! We are both sinners. By his grace we are both to be saved.' " A change was noticed after this, on the face of this bad man. " ' You,' said he to the chaplain, ' told me about Christ, only to aggravate. He told me that Christ loved us both ; and I believed that young man.' " Claude Merrill, against his own resolves, liked Mrs. Ross, and her friends. Mr. Sprague led Zeke to tell him about the latest scull race, and as the old gentleman was a lover of aqua- tic sports, Zeke was quite at home with him. Mr. Sprague's \vish to see the model of a boat led to a visit by daylight. Mrs. Ross's flower garden was an attraction for Claude. Harry Holden, a young lawyer, rich, but sceptical, dropped in to see the widow, who, two or three evenings in the week could draw in his pleasure-loving friends. Harry was a rare tenor, Fulton sang well. The choir some- times met in the house for practice, and Harry sometimes dropped into church to assist the choir. This brought him into contact with Dr. Ditchet, the able pastor of the congregation, a man who had been sorely tempted ; his trials had made him so gentle, so loving, yet at the same time so faithful, that his sermons were listened to by Harry with attention. In the course of a year Harry and Zeke both professed their interest in Christ. Claude Merrill, after many doubts and misgivings as to his faith, joined the church. " Aunt Mary, I am quite discouraged," said Fulton Grey, in answer to a remark from Mrs. Ross. "Why?" . ' -f :^ i^i^' .lii ^jg THE TWILIGHT OF FAITH. "Look at the happiness, the joy, in fact, that Harry and Zeke enjoy. I have tried to serve Jesus smce I can remember, I have no such spiritual experiences." 'work my boy ; work and trust. The sun of righteousness shall arise A healing on his wings. Light will come to you Is well as to me. The Twilight or Faith goes before the perfect day." il 5 m i ■f %!■» ,-«-."»" ...-4»*-'ft"^ 4*- 't:'- i * 7 (Pfr