t I 
 
'^cz.cL ^i5i>^qo 
 
 SEP 14 1992 
 

SEP 14 1992 
 
TH.E 
 
 PORTFOLIO 
 
 ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION. 
 
 COMPILED BY THE EDITOR OF THE BOARD. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 peesbyt;^rian board op publication, 
 
 No. 2C5 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
Entered, aceorJing to the Act of Congress, in the year 1855, hy 
 
 A. W. MITCHELL, M.D., 
 
 in the Clerk*s Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 BTEEEOTTPED BY J. FAOAN, PHILADELP.JU. 
 
ADVEETISEMENT. 
 
 We present to our readers a pleasant miscellany, compiled for their 
 instruction and amusement, and adorned 'witli engravings exhibiting no 
 ordinary artistic skill. It is hoped that it will be found an agreeable 
 treat, suitable not only for one season of the year, but for every season — 
 not only for one class of readers, but for all. While its mechanical execu- 
 tion renders it an ornament for the centre -table, its varied contents, 
 combining history, biography. Scripture illustration, poetry, and moral 
 and religious teachings, give it a peculiar adaptation for family reading 
 in a -ffinter evening. The young will find they have not been neglected. 
 
 We must acknowledge our great obligations, in preparing this volume, to 
 a periodical publication of the London Religious Tract Society, entitled, 
 "The Sunday at Home." 
 
 If it should be found that any of the articles in this volume are originally 
 from the pens of American authors, our apology for not giving due credit 
 must be, that they appear in the above volume without any indication of 
 their original source. 
 
 The Editor of the Board. 
 (3) 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 The Bible Colporteur, or the fruit found after manj' days 7 
 
 Let not our Spirits droop. — Poetry 11 
 
 Footsteps of Paul in Italy 1- 
 
 That Land. — Poetry 21 
 
 The Danger of Delay -- 
 
 Sale of Joseph by his Bretliron 23 
 
 Joseph in Prison 27 
 
 The two Fountains. — Poetry 32 
 
 The Fig-tree 37 
 
 Lessons by the Seaside 42 
 
 The Mummy Wheat. — Podry 48 
 
 Glimpses of the Pil;;rim Fathers 51 
 
 Communion with the Dead. — Poetry 57 
 
 Piety upon a Throne 59 
 
 St. Paul loosing from Troas. — Poetry C4 
 
 The Lingerer 70 
 
 The Dying Soldier. — PocC^v/ 73 
 
 The Little Mendicant '74 
 
 The Reformation — Luther's ninety-five Theses nailed to the Church door 70 
 
 The Contented Man. — Poetry 82 
 
 The Leadings of Divine Providence 83 
 
 The Soul-lit Eye. — Poetry 80 
 
 Claude Brousson 87 
 
 A Name in the Sand. •— Poetry 02 
 
 The Death Sccna. — Poetry 03 
 
 The Lost Bells 94 
 
 The Last Night in this World ; or, the Wreck of the Pegasus 97 
 
 (5) 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Sabbath made for Uan— Poetry 106 
 
 Frederick II. and Ziethen 108 
 
 The Missionary Pedler of the Vaudois 113 
 
 The Shepherd Lad. 117 
 
 Best — Poclri/ 1-- 
 
 " AVatching for the Morning." 124 
 
 The Palm Tree 133 
 
 The Lost Son Found 134 
 
 The Transformed Island 140 
 
 The Uninvited Guest, and the Two Debtors 102 
 
 The Lord hath need of thee — Poetry 107 
 
 Illustrations of Self-conquest 108 
 
 The Shipwrecli 172 
 
 The Swearer Rebuked by a Child 176 
 
 The Children's Walk 179 
 
 August Hermann Franoke 184 
 
 An Incident from Real Life 191 
 
 The Christian Race — Poetry 195 
 
 Christianity in the Hour of Danger 196 
 
 A Sunday at Nazareth 203 
 
 Smyrna and its Martyr 208 
 
 The Sunday Bower 214 
 
 Lost but Found 218 
 
 John Jaenicke, Pastor of the Bethlehems Church, Berlin 224 
 
 The Swollen River; or, the Escape of a Huguenot Family 236 
 
 Anecdotes of Dr. Judson 253 
 
PORTFOLIO 
 
 ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION. 
 
 fk §il)Ie (tolprtcur, or the ^(niit foniib "after m\\\) ga; 
 
 T was evening again — a smnmer's evening; and a 
 stranger, invited perhaps by the open door of a neat and 
 comfortable cottage, paused, and then entered. An aged 
 female sat b}^ the window, employed in spinning. Marks 
 of sorrow might be traced on her features ; and 
 poverty was to be seen in somewhat painful contrast 
 with a few relics of former prosperity. It was not poverty', however, 
 that caused the present sorrow. On a couch in the apartment lay a 
 young man, emaciated by long illness, slowly but surely sinking in 
 hopeless decline. He was the onl}- son of his mother, and she was a 
 widow. 
 
 The stranger looked around him as he stepped over the threshold, 
 and comprehended at a glance the principal features of the scene. 
 
 "The Lord be gracious to you," he said, speaking kindl}', and respect- 
 fully saluting the aged woman ; " and may all your troubles work 
 together for good to you," he added. 
 
 In a moment, the look of grief on the countenance of the widow was 
 exchanged for a bright smile of joy; and the invalid raised himself from 
 his pillow. 
 
 (7) 
 
8 ? 11 T F L I OF E N T E K T A I N JI E N T 
 
 "Enter, enter," he said, in a feeble voice of pleasure; "if you love 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, you are welcome ; 0, how welcome !" 
 
 "And do you love the Lord Jesus Christ?" asked the stranger, as he 
 approached the bedside. 
 
 A happy smile played on the invalid's lips as he reached out his thin, 
 nerveless hand, and pressed that of the unknown visitor. " ' We love 
 him,' he said, 'because he first loved us.' " 
 
 "Happy are they who know that of a truth," rejoined the stranger, 
 whose countenance showed his glad surprise ; " I knew not that I should 
 find ill this benighted village, a brother and sister in Christ. How comes 
 this to pass?" 
 
 The young man laid his hand on a Bible by his bedside. The motion 
 was expressive ; no words were needed. 
 
 Meanwhile the aged woman had risen, and had spread a table for the 
 refreshment of the stranger. " It is but a crust, and a cup of water," 
 she said; "but welcome to it, in His name; for you, too, love our 
 Lord!" 
 
 "I do, indeed," he replied, "and as a disciple I receive with gladness 
 and love what is given in the name of a disciple. And has it been 
 always thus with you ?" 
 
 "Ah no, no," said the woman ; " time was, and not long ago, that I 
 was ignorant of Christ's righteousness, and went about to establish my 
 own ; for I knew nothing of the blessed book which priests try to keep 
 from us." 
 
 "And I," said the dying man — "ah, sir, I scoffed at all religions, and 
 hated the book of which I knew nothing." 
 
 "And may I ask," inquired the stranger, "by what means so happy a 
 change has been produced ?" 
 
 "I will tell you," said the mother; "it was three years ago that a 
 poor man, a Bible colporteur, came into our village, and could find no 
 resting-place — for all the people looked upon him with scorn. Even 
 at the inn, he was refused food and shelter. My husband was by, and 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 9 
 
 heard it ; and though ho was no hctter friend to the Bihle than the rest 
 of tlie villagers, God put it in his heart, sir, to pity the poor traveller; 
 and he brought him home. Ah, sir, I felt very angry when I saw who 
 was to be our guest ; but poor Pierre would not have me abuse him, 
 though I grn(]god every mouthful he ate." 
 
 "And I," interposed the invalid, "insulted him by laughing at his 
 religion, and showing how I hated the Bible. But God has shown me 
 my sin, and forgiven mo ; blessed be his name for his great mercy !" 
 
 "The poor man," resumed the widow, "seemed greatly distressed, 
 and after he went to bed we heard him in prayer for our poor souls ; but 
 this only made me more angry, for I did not want a heretic to pray for 
 me; and when the next morning camo, I was glad to see him go awaj-. 
 I thought then that I never would have another heretic for a guest. 
 But poor Pierre was more kind; he would not take anything for the 
 night's lodging, only the man would leave a iSTew Testament, in remem- 
 brance of his visit. Very angry I was, when I know this. And I was 
 more angry and frightened still, when I found that Antoine liad gone 
 out to meet the colporteur on the road, and had bought one of his 
 Bibles." 
 
 "Ah, sir," said the invalid, "when I was wickedly talking against the 
 blessed book, the evening before, the man turned to me, and asked if I 
 had ever read it for myself. That came home to me, sir; fori never 
 had opened a Bible, and oidy spoke of it from what I had heard others 
 say ; and they, perhaps, had never read it either. So, that I might 
 not have to confess my ignorance another time, I determined to have a 
 Bible of my own." 
 
 "It was the Lord's doing," observed the stranger, thoughtfully. "lie 
 leads the blind by a way that they know not." 
 
 "You may say that truly, sir," continued the woman. "It was not 
 long after tlie colporteur was with us, that my poor Pierre was taken ill, 
 and had to keep his bed. He never rose from it again ; but, by God'a 
 mercy, he was not taken away from us for many months. He wanted 
 
10 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 something to amuse liira while he lay; and one day he told me to get 
 the Testament which the man had given him. lie would have it, sir; 
 and he read it day after day, till he became so interested in it, that from 
 morning to night the book was in liis hands. It pleased God, sir, to 
 give his blessed S[iirit to open his heart to the truth ; and at last he 
 said to me, 'Margarette, we are all going wrong; the priests have been 
 taking away the key of the kingdom of God, and are trying to keep us 
 out.' " 
 
 "God be praised, sir; I listened to m}' husband's words, and let him 
 read to me; and at last my eyes were opened too; and then I found 
 how, all my life, I had been trusting to an arm of flesh, and was looking 
 to be saved by saints, and angels, and priests, instead of b}- the Lord 
 Jesus Christ alone. Oh, sir, that was a good day when salvation came 
 to our house ! And then we thought of poor Antoine ; but the Lord 
 was merciful to us there, sir." 
 
 "I read the Bible when I had got it," said the sick man, earnestly; 
 "and the Lord was pleased to bring down my proud thoughts and high 
 looks." 
 
 "My liusband died," resumed the weeping woman; "and his last 
 words were to the eifect that he had found salvation, and was going to 
 the Saviour. And now, poor Antoine is ill " 
 
 "lie can say the same, mother," interposed the young man ; "I shall 
 not be with you much longer, dear mother; but I know whom I have 
 believed; and I am read}- — blessed be his name — ready: and when I 
 am gone, Jesus will comfort you." 
 
 "He will ; he does; it is all in love that he suffers us to be afflicted," 
 replied the aged mother. 
 
 " ' Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing !' you can say that, then ?" inter- 
 posed the stranger. 
 
 " Oh, yes, for do we not know that 'all things work together for good 
 to them that love God?'" 
 
 The traveller, before he departed, united with mother and son in 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 11 
 
 earnest supplication and tlianksgiving, ami tlicn went his way, prohal)ly 
 to see them no nidre. But ho went on liis wa}' rejoicing, for he had 
 learnoJ a lesson of oncouragcnKMit to effort in the service of his Saviour, 
 and to praj-er for those influences without which Paul might phxnt, and 
 Apollos water, in vain. 
 
 "lie that goeth forth, and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall 
 doubtless come again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." 
 
 f ct wat our .^'pirits iiraoiJ. 
 
 Let not our spirits droop ! the wintry blast 
 ]]ut lately through the verdant forests passed; 
 Each tree was of its foliage bereft, 
 And gloomy skeletons alone were left ; 
 But smiling spring soon conieth, to restore 
 Not only what the winter lost — but more. 
 
 Let not our spirits droop! The frailest flower 
 That lent its beauty to tlie summer bower, 
 Tlien vanished from the earth, and left no trace. 
 Yet springs again in its appointed place; 
 Their gloomy season is but for a while — 
 God gives the word, and earth again will smile. 
 
 Let not our spirits droop ! Insect and bird 
 No longer in their joyful songs are heard; 
 But their sweet melodies, through every grove, 
 Again will pour out gratitude and love; 
 Wo must the general lot of nature share — 
 Seasons of gloom as well as joy to bear. 
 
12 PORTFOLIO OF E N T E R T A I \ Jt E N T 
 
 Let not our spirits droop ! The same high Tower 
 That clothes again the forcst-trce and flower, 
 That frees the fountain from its icy chain, 
 And wakes the melody of birds again. 
 Supports us also through the hour of woe. 
 And in fit season will new joys bestow. 
 
 footsteps Df paul in Italn. 
 
 F all the Listorical associations wliich cluster round 
 •f^ so many spots in Ital}', none are more interesting 
 to the Christian mind than those coimected with the 
 apostle Paul. It is a great advantage to get vivid 
 ideas of facts: and, in addition to many of a classi- 
 cal nature, which now exist for us as they never did 
 hefore, we have recentl}- gained, in a visit to that most beautiful penin- 
 sula, a freshness of impression with regard to Paul's voyage and journey 
 to Rome, such as we would fain impart to our readers, with the hope ■ 
 that it will increase their interest in reading the 28th chapter of the Acts 
 of the Apostles. 
 
 Looking at the deep hlue waters of the Mediterranean night after 
 night, and once meeting with rough weather, how real the story of his 
 adventures seemed to us. There he suffered shipwreck ; there neither 
 sun nor stars for many days appeared. \Yith the gospel on his lips and 
 in his heart, he went a pi'isoner to stand before Ca?sar, and, conscious 
 of the value of that treasure, and of his own divine mission to convey it, 
 but especially assured by a vision from heaven, he knew that the storm 
 which drove him up and down the Adriatic could not harm him, his 
 confidence being reasonable and wise, because founded on a divine 
 
A X D r N S T U U C T I K . 13 
 
 pronjise, and therefore not like tlie idle vaunt of Lini •\\]io predicted 
 security to bis vessel because it carried Ciesar and bis fortunes. Tbat 
 Alexandrian sbip, the "Castor and Pollux," coming from Syracuse and 
 then from Ebegium, with a south wind in a single day to Putcoli, 
 becomes as veritable, to one who stands on its ancient mole, as any oi" 
 the Italian craft which still sail into that harbour. 
 
 The modern name is Pozzuoli, and the place lies a few miles to tho 
 north of ^Naples. It is now much decayed, but traces of its former mag- 
 nificence may be seen in its various ruins. Among these may be 
 particularly noticed the Temple of Scrapis, a quadrilateral structure with 
 a circular temple in the middle ; and an extensive ampliitlicatre at tlie 
 back of the modern town, with vast substructions, cljamljers and passages 
 being constructed underneath the very arena, and lighted from above by 
 apertures, in the upper floor on which the exhibitions took place. The 
 seaport is of Syrian origin, and was of great importance in the days of 
 the apostle. It has been called the Liverpool of ancient Italy, whither 
 went the vessels from the coast of Africa, laden with corn and other 
 commodities; while on its quays, ambassadors and armies embarked for 
 their several stations on the ^Mediterranean coasts. 
 
 Near to Pozzuoli is Baiie, now desolate, but crowded with ruins, once 
 the most splendid, gay, and dissolute of watering-places. The old 
 wave-beaten mole, of Roman workmanship, still existing in part, is 
 probably the same as that to which the " Castor and Pollux" would be 
 moored on the completion of its voyage. Seventeen piers remain, and 
 crumbling steps down into the water are there ; and how we thought of 
 the scene witnessed on the spot at Paul's landing, as we gathered some 
 of the sea-weed, which grows luxuriantly, and with tenacious roots, ou 
 the blocks of the well-known Pozzolana. 
 
 A road anciently ran from the port to the great Apjiian Way, connect- 
 ing Rome with the southern part of Italy. We can trace it still, in the 
 pavement of lava, through the pass of ilonte Barbaro, the marks of 
 chariot-wheels not being yet obliterated. When Paul departed along 
 
14 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 this road to the imperial cit^-, he would receive the afiectiouate fiirewells 
 of the Christian brethren, who, as we learn from the Acts, had greeted 
 his arrival and besought him to tarry with them seven days. Tombs 
 lined the streets for some distance outside the walls of the town, as was 
 then the customary arrangement in the neighbourhood of Roman towns. 
 
 At Capua, the branch road from Puteoli joined the Appian Way, and 
 there the little band would find themselves plunged into the thicker 
 bustle of the great thoroughfare leading from Brundisium to the capital. 
 Many a chariot^ many a palanquin, many a horseman, many a laden 
 wain, many a humble carriage, many a traveller on foot, would be 
 passed or met, as Paul and Luke, and Julian the officer, and the rest of 
 the party, wended their way. 
 
 From Capua the road runs to Tcrracina — Anxur it was called in the 
 time of the apostle. It was a beautiful 'May morning when we passed 
 through this line of country, and the remembrance of the prospects 
 which came and went, as the vetturino quietly drove us along, will ever 
 live in our imagination. "We still see the bright green sides of the valley 
 near St. Agata, speckled with olives, and the vinos hanging from branch 
 to branch like spiders' webs — and the glorious Apennines, on the way 
 to Gaeta, white as silver, lifting up their heads behind the nearer hills, 
 enclosing orchards of fig-trees, and pleasant fields where "the dove- 
 coloured steers were ploughing up and down among the vines." The 
 aspect of the country would be difierent when Paul passed through it. 
 It was very early in the spring. " The vines and elms would have a 
 wintery appearance, but the traces of spring would be visible in the 
 willows, among which the Liris flows in many silent windings, from the 
 birthplace of Marius in the mountains, to the city and the swamps by the 
 sea, which the ferocity of his maturer life has rendered illustrious." * 
 
 Mola de Gaeta, the chief halting-place nextto Capua, on the road to 
 Tcrracina, is one of the most beautifully situated places on the face of 
 the earth. Kever shall we forget the view which broke upon us there, 
 •■ " Life and Epistles of Paul," bj Conybeare, vol. ii. p. 367. 
 
ANDIXSTRUCTIOX. 15 
 
 as WQ oponoJ our window hi tlic early morning. There lay one of the 
 fairest and most brightly emblazoned leaves of that wonderful book of 
 nature, which our Heavenly Father has spread out before Iiis children 
 here on earth, and which he has taught us, by his holy word, to read 
 with other eyes than mere nature or reason can ever give. How noble 
 are the forms of the distant mountains to the south — of the promontory 
 of Gaeta to tlie north, with its long lines of white houses — of the curved 
 sweep of the shore, constituting together one of the finest bays iu the 
 world ; and how gorgeous are the colours of the deep blue water and the 
 deep blue sky, and the green gardens of orange-trees, washed by the 
 sea-waves, and the clusters of golden fruit, all lighted up by an Italian 
 sun. Cicero had a villa here, his Formiau villa. Here he walked and 
 talked with Scipio; here too he was murdered by a man who owed his 
 life to his victim's eloquence. Roman architecture would adorn the 
 spot when Paul passed through it. We cannot imagine him iudilferent 
 to what he saw. With more than an artist's, more than a poet's, more 
 than a historian's thought would he look on tho^^e forms and colours, 
 and on those classical associations. All would be seen in the grand light 
 of divine truth ; all would be connected with the work of the Creator, 
 and the way of the Lord of providence ; and we feel it to be no unnatural 
 picture, when we fancy Paul there looking over the bay, and repeating 
 with deep emotion his own sublime words, "Of him, and through him, 
 and to him are all things, to whom be glory for ever." 
 
 The road leaves the sea at Gaeta, and Paul travelled over the Ccccu- 
 ban hills, yielding abundance of vines from their stony soil. The passes 
 •which we crossed were deeply interesting, though in some parts dreary 
 and solemn ; rendered, especially towards nightfall, additionally so by 
 the remembrance of the deeds of violence often committed hereabouts, 
 by the brigands who used to haunt the region — a race which, though 
 considerably checked and reduced, is not yet quite extinct, so that it 
 would not be safe travelling there, even in the present day, w'ere it not 
 for the picquets of soldiers that guard the road. 
 
16 r K T F L I OF E N T K 11 T A I X M E N T 
 
 Fondi, on the Keapolitau frontier, stands iu the old Appian Way, 
 another pohit, consequently, in which we felt ourselves to be in company 
 ■(.vith the apostle. AYc travelled on, still keeping to the ancient road, 
 close to the sea, the mountains rising boldly to the right. The narrow 
 pass approaching Terraeina is famous as the stronghold of Fubius Maxi- 
 mus in the second Funic war, when he held the defile against the 
 passage of Hannibal. Terraeina itself is another of the spots on this 
 road distinguished for its scenery and associations, the latter, however, 
 belonging chiefly to a period subsecpient to the era of the apostle. Yet 
 it was in his time a groat naval port; Eomau navies rode there in safety, 
 and the rings are still visible to which the sailors used to moor their 
 galleys. One of the most prominent buildings there at present is the 
 papal palace, the retreat of I'ius VI. —an object which calls up thoughts 
 of the marvellous change which time and corruption have wrought in 
 the nominal Church of Christ. Could Paul have been told, as he entered 
 what are now the Papal dominions, that one, calling himself the succes- 
 sor of his brother apostle Peter, the Galilean fisherman, would be sove- 
 reign lord of that territory, and claim the highest prerogatives of a 
 temporal prince — it might well have startled him. 
 
 The Pontine Marshes begin soon after we leave Terraeina, or Anxnr, 
 and they extend for thirty-six miles. Their insalubriousncss and want 
 of cultivation have given them a world-wide celebrity; and it is certainly 
 very wearisome and fatiguing to cross the tame, dead level road, hy the 
 side of the canal, except that one keeps thinking, every now and then, 
 of the illustrious traveller whose footsteps we are endeavouring to help 
 our readers to trace. At the end of the canal occurred the little incident 
 recorded by Luke, which we shall now halt awhile to notice: "So we 
 went towards Rome ; and from thence, when the brethren heard of us, 
 they came to meet us as far as Appii Forum and the Three Taverns, 
 whom when I'aul saw, he thanked Cod and took courage." 
 
 The reverence felt for sacred Scripture is often improperly made to 
 influence our notions of those who are described to us in its pages, as 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 17 
 
 tbougla they were altogetlier aljovo tlic walks of Imniaiiity. They aie 
 looked upon as lifted up to a height where they have little, if anything, 
 in common with ourselves. They are less regarded as j^ersons sur- 
 rounded by the usual circumstances of human life, and as partaking in 
 the anxieties of the human heart, than as wonderfully gifted, honoured 
 individuals, having very extraordinary offices to perform in the world, 
 and extraordinary thoughts and feelings about everything. Paul and 
 the rest had indeed a miraculous knowledge of divine truths, but he and 
 they were " men of like passions with ourselves." To dwell upon one 
 side of their characters is pernicious. 'No doubt it was the almost exclu- 
 sive meditation upon the apostles' superhuman endowments, ciforts, and 
 honours, which so earl}- led to the mischievous habit of looking upon 
 them, and such as were like them, in the light of saints — distinctly and 
 exelusivehj so. They were separated from the rest of the faithful They 
 were exalted into a wonderful class. Reverence for them grew so as to 
 absorb all sympatbj' with them. They came to be worshipped. They 
 were no more brethren in Christ. They were fathers, lords, mediators. 
 We believe that the idolatry of the Roman Catholic church arose very 
 ranch out of this feeling. "We believe, too, that among Protestants the 
 feeling, which is the germ of that idolatr\-, may now be found. 
 
 The little story, then, just quoted, is of great importance, inasmuch as 
 it reminds us of the bond of brotherhood which binds us and one of 
 the greatest of God's servants together, and makes us feel that there are 
 deep grounds of sympathy between him and ourselves. For the histo- 
 rian's words convo}- to us the idea that Raul was at the time depressed. 
 His thanking God and taking courage imjsly that ho wanted encourao-e- 
 rnent. And it is not an idle speculation, as will bo presently seen, if 
 we endeavour to form some idea of what might occasion his depression. 
 The scenery through which he had passed had probably somothino- to 
 do with it. The marshiness of the place is vcp}- depressing — the more 
 so to a traveller going to Rome, from the contrast it exhibits to the 
 glorious scenery preceding it. \"ariegatcd prospects, full of hills and 
 2 
 
IS PORTFOLIO OF EXTERTAINMENT 
 
 valleys and plains, palms and aloes, fig-trees and pomegranates, vines 
 and olives, oranges and flowers, bordered by the most beautiful coast 
 Ecenerj-, are suddenly exchanged for a barren level and a formal canal, 
 enclosed by stunted trees. A contrast, though not exactly what exists 
 now, would bo apparent in Paul's days. Appii Forum was then a 
 market-town at the extremity of the canal on the side next Rome, 
 where the mules which dragged the packet and other barges were 
 unyoked. It was a place of great noise and bustle, though now but a 
 solitary post-house remains. Crowds of tavern-keepers and bargemen 
 lived there. Travellers in great numbers passed through it. It was 
 customary, as we learn from Horace, to travel in a towed barge along 
 the canal at night, when the passengers were exposed to all kinds of 
 annoyances, as the satirist Las very graphically described. A man 
 might very naturally feel out of spirits, after such a journey, to find, on 
 reaching his destination, the noise and uproar of his journey only 
 redoubled. "VVe do not believe the apostle was above' such influences. 
 
 But there were other things more important to depress him. To say 
 nothing of the probable effects of his disastrous voyage and shipwreck, 
 he was a prisoner going in chains to Rome; not on a tour of pleasure, 
 or even of business. lie was travelling among people proud and 
 insolent, full of levity and licentiousness. They were flocking in crowds 
 to and from the Appian Way, many going to and returning from the 
 abominable Baije. They added idolatry to sensualism. They had 
 borrowed from Greece both its superstition and its vice. If, on Mars' 
 Hill, Paul's spirit was moved within him, would it not now be moved 
 within him at the sight he saw in southern Italy? Such a man in such 
 a place would be like Lot in Sodom. His "righteous soul" would be 
 " vexed within him." Miglit there not also come over his mind thoughts 
 of the godlessness of that power which was enthroned at Rome, and of 
 its impious defiance of the just Lord of the universe? ISIight he not 
 think of this, in connection with the great puzzle of the existence of 
 moral evil, a puzzle often forced with peculiar efifect on thoughtful men 
 
A X n I X s T t; I" c T 1 X . 1 :) 
 
 ill travelliiin;, wlieii new forms of v.irkedncss come before tliem? and 
 ■would not "that which came njioii him daily, the care of all the 
 churches," weigh heavily on his spirits, as his mind ran from one to 
 another of those infant societies, and rested on the blots and lilomishcs 
 of each ? and might not " some thorn in the flesh, some messenger of 
 Satan" sent to butFet liim, be just then pricking him to the quick, and 
 making his whole nature smart and tingle? 
 
 But enough of tliese conjectures. Our object in enumerating them is 
 this — to make the reader feel that if he be depi'essed, whether the cause 
 be trivial or inqiortant, he is now 01113- what Paul sometimes was, and 
 that God provideth comfort for all his servants, as he did on this occa- 
 sion for his apostle I'aul. The Lord had gathered to himself a people 
 at Rome; they had heard of the illustrious prisoner; some might know 
 him personally ; all knew him by character. So with kind and loving 
 lioarfs the}' came forth to meet him. One party came as far as Appii 
 Forum, fifty-six miles from Rome, the other tarried at the Three Taverns, 
 eight or ten miles nearer the cit^'. Wc dwell upon it with pleasure, 
 because it is so simple and natural, and comes home so close to our 
 hearts. Distance of time as well as place seemed annihilated when we 
 were at Appii Forum. We were transported at once into the first 
 century, looking at " the brethren" as they came near the gates, fiimiliar 
 with all the incidents connected with travelling, talking about the min- 
 ister of Christ whom they were expecting to meet, wondering how ho 
 looked, and anticipating no little benefit from his wisdom and love, for 
 he had come " to impart to them some spiritual gift, to the end that they 
 might be established." We read in Exodus of Moses' interview with 
 Jcthro. Something like that would be the meeting bctwccu Paul and 
 the brethren from Rome. Paul would ask them of their wellare, and 
 they would relate somewhat of their spiritual history. They would ask 
 him of his welfare, and lie would relate to them passages of his own 
 experience for their edification. Thus was the man of God comforted 
 at Appii Torum, even as in Macedonia ho was comforted by the coming 
 
20 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 of Titus, and at Athens by the arrival of Timoth3^ And often still 
 does friendship lighten our loads, and lessen our sorrows. When 
 depressed, the sight of an old friend is as a vision from heaven. It brings 
 back the light of other days, and we afresh feel within the awakening 
 of a hope of better fellowship beyond the grave. ^^vTor can we donbt 
 that, in the case of the apostle, as it should be in ours, the soothing of 
 earthly friendship led to thoughts of the unseen, divine and everlasting 
 Friend, who sticketh closer than a brother. 
 
 Joyous was the eifcct. Paul heard of the progress of the cause of 
 Christ in Eome ; he saw living witnesses of tlie power of grace ; he 
 received anew a conviction of the presence of the best of friends, and 
 felt assured more than ever of the perpetuity and immortal triumphs of 
 the cause of his Lord and Master; and "he thanked God, and took 
 courage." Took courage to believe that he who had been with him 
 would be with him still ; took courage to go forward to a city where 
 bonds and imprisonments awaited him ; and took courage to renew his 
 efforts for the enlightenment and recovery of human souls. Everything 
 would wear another aspect now. His lassitude and depression would be 
 dissipated. The diminution of fatigue, the more hopeful prospect of the 
 future, the renewed elasticity of religious trust, the sense of a brighter 
 light on all the scenery around him, on the foliage which overshadowed 
 the road, on the wide expanse of the plain to the left, on the high sum- 
 mit of the Alban mount, all this and more than this is involved in 
 Luke's sentence, " When Paul saw the brethren, he thanked God, and 
 took courage." 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 21 
 
 f-hit f ;iKl>. 
 
 [from the GERMAN OF UULAND.] 
 
 There is a land wbcre beauty will not fade, 
 
 Nor sorrow dim the eye ; 
 Where true hearts will not shrink nor be dismayed, 
 
 And love will never die. 
 Toll mc, I fain would go, 
 For I am burdened with a heavy woe ; 
 The beautiful have left me all alone ; 
 The true, the tender from my path have gone ; 
 And I am weak, and fainting with despair; 
 Where is it ? Tell me where ! 
 
 Friend, thou must trust in Ilira who trod before, 
 
 The desolate paths of life ; 
 Must bear in meekness, as ho meekly bore. 
 
 Sorrow, and toil, and strife, 
 Think how the Son of God 
 These thorny paths hath trod. 
 Think how he longed to go. 
 Yet tarried out for thee the appointed woo; 
 Think of his loneliness in places dim, 
 When no man comforted nor cared for him ; 
 Think how he prayed, unaided and alone. 
 In that dread agony, " Thy will be done ;" 
 Friend, do not thou despair, 
 Christ, in Lis Leaven of heavens, will Lear thy prayer. 
 
22 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 JI]C p auger a\ pclatr. 
 
 yfie&^^^vcj?;-^ TIE Bible paj's, " Boliold note is tlie accpptcd time, 
 ,-*. nJ \^ behold now is the day of salvation," 2 Cor. vi. 2. It 
 '^D»rf ,v i''^5 however, a painful fact, that although nothing is 
 
 ■f ■v^-*^\ ^ more uncertain than life, men are continually putting 
 
 f't^^^sS^^:^ off the claims of the soul until "a more convenient 
 season." The sad experience of many has been that 
 the great woi'k has been neglected, until there is no time for repentance, 
 and they know the solemn import of the words of Jeremiah, viii. 20: 
 " The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." But 
 to show the reader the extreme folly of trifling with the claims of the 
 gospel, and the awful danger of delaj-, his serious attention is requested 
 to the following fact, taken from the life of Alexander Baterson, the 
 missionary of Kilraany. 
 
 Among the persons visited bj- Mr. Baterson was a female, comfortable 
 in circumstances, but with no time, as she thought, to spare for lier soul. 
 "When visiting the district in which she lived, he always called, but never 
 got admittance. 
 
 One daj', after he had spoken to her very solemnly at the door, warn- 
 ing her of tlie danger of dying without Christ, he was going up-stairs to 
 visit another family', when she came out and cried after him, " Oh ! be 
 sure and not be long in coming back again, for I do wish to see you." 
 In a few days he called. 
 
 " I 'm sorr}'," she said, the moment she opened the door, " I have no 
 tiine to receive you to-day; I've a friend come from London, and I've 
 to go out with him." 
 
 " Well, you will have time to die, whether you 're prepared or not ; so 
 you've no time just now?" 
 
 "No, not to-day." 
 
 " Well, let me say this to you, in case you and I never meet again — 
 

A N D I N S T II U C T I N , 26 
 
 'Behold, 7102V is tlic accepted time, now is the da}' of salvation.' 'To- 
 day, if you will liear his voice, harden not your heart.' ' Turn at my 
 reproof, and I will pour out my Spirit upon you, and make known my 
 words unto you ;' but observe what follows : ' Because I have called, and 
 ye refused; I have stretched out my hands, and no man regarded; Ijnt ye 
 have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I 
 also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your I'ear conieth.' 
 Oh ! think of these things, lest I never see you again." She thanked 
 him, and he went awa}\ 
 
 That night she and her brother went to the theatre ; she " took ill" 
 while slie was in it — she came home — grew worse — and was in etc r- 
 nit}- by live o'clock next morning. 
 
 "The thing," said Mr. Patei-son, "so impressed me, that I resolved, 
 if God spared me, to labour, by his grace, more diligently than ever." 
 
 Salt ai lostpl] hv Iiis IJrctlTrcn. 
 
 EPSIUS, the great German Egyptologist, is engaged 
 at the present time* in the preparation of a work em- 
 \ bodying the results of liis vast investigations. jMean- 
 \N"f '^ r.r^ ilP ' ^^■hile, a publication has appeared in England fi'om 
 ^^M%f/^'^ ^.V, the pen of an anonymous scholar, apjiarcntly of 
 /TT-.^*?rrfr^??7^"~" no mean attainments. Tlie work in question is 
 entitled, "Israel in Egypt;" and is an able and captivating attempt to 
 exhibit the elofiuent testimony of Egyiitian monumental inscriiitions to 
 the truth of the Bible. In the present transition state of these studies, 
 however, and while considerable diver.-ifies of opinion still exist among 
 leading scholars upon many important points in chronology and liistory, 
 
 * 1854. 
 
24 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 it will be necessary to receive with caution some of the solutions offered. 
 "With this reservation, we think the work well worthy of a place in every 
 Chrii-tian's library, and with the view of making our readers acquainted 
 with the nature of its contents, we puq^oso giving, in a short paper or 
 two, a few extracts in elucidation of the extraordinary life of Joseph in 
 Egypt. 
 
 Passing over tlie touching details of fraternal perfidy and cruelty which 
 took place in the pasturages of Dothan, we picture to ourselves the sor- 
 rowiuo- youth, thus suddenly and vindictively rent from all his kindred, 
 borne away from his native hills and valleys by a company of desert 
 traders ; who seem to have felt no more scruple in trafficldng in human 
 beings, than they did in dealing in the natural productions of the land 
 thev traversed. The following remarks in illustration of this atfecting 
 event will be read with interest : — 
 
 " The merchants or traders to whom Joseph was sold were Ishmaelitcs 
 by descent, and Midianites by nation, ilidian was the portion of the 
 Sliiaitic desert which lay immediately adjacent to the eastern frontier of 
 Egyjit. B3' profession they were merchants. They carried to Canaan 
 the corn, the wine, the oil, the linen of Egypt. They returned to Egypt 
 with the spicery, the balm, the myrrh, the precious woods, the minerals 
 of Canaan. Spicery only is mentioned in the inspired narrative before 
 us. The clan to which Joseph was sold traded in this article alone. 
 The demand for it in Egj-pt was enormous. The careful examination 
 of the mummies of difierent epochs establishes the fixct that at these 
 remote periods it was used in the ombalment both of men and sacred 
 animals, to an extent which was not practicable in after times through 
 the failure of the supply. 
 
 "The twenty pieces, or rings of silver, which these merchants paid the 
 hardened men as the price of their brother, were, at this age of the world, 
 by no means the small amount that it sounds in modern ears. Silver 
 always takes the precedence of gold, when both are enumerated in the 
 earlier poi-tious of the inspired narrative. The same is the case iu the 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 2b 
 
 hierogl^'pliic texts ; Bilvor is always mentioned before gold as the more 
 precious metal, both on account of its comparative rarity, and because 
 of its more extensive use for the adornment and utensils of the temples 
 on account of its colour. Whiteness and purity were inseparably con- 
 nected in the Egyptian mythology. 
 
 It has, doubtless, often excited the curiosity of many an inquisitive 
 student of Joseph's eventful history, to know in which of the great cities 
 of ancient Egypt this interesting Hebrew lived, in turn as a slave, as a 
 prisoner, as a prince, and as a prefect of the empire. According to our 
 author, the captive stranger was taken by his owners to On, or Heliopo- 
 lis, situated at the crown of the Delta, and nearly contiguous to the 
 termination of the track which the caravan pursued on its way across 
 the Midianite desert. This city became famous in after ages for the 
 number, magnitude, and beauty of its temples, which were " all dedi- 
 cated to Re Athom, that is, to the sun, as the father of the gods, imper- 
 sonated in Adam, the father of mankind." The obelisks with which 
 ancient Eome was adorned, and which still remain in modern Rome, 
 were all brought from the ruined temples of Heliopolis. One solitary 
 obelisk stands upright to this day, amid its sand-covered ruins. When 
 Joseph iirst gazed with wonder upon the spot, that obelisk had already 
 stood where it now stands, for more than a century. 
 
 According to the inspired narrative (Gen. xxxix. 1-6) Joseph was 
 sold by the Ishmaelite traders to Potiphar, " an officer of Pharaoh, a 
 captain of the guard," or, as explained b}- our author, "a prince and an 
 inspector of the plantations." " The meaning of the name Potiphar," 
 he continues, "is he who belongs {is devoted) to the sun, the local god of 
 Heliopolis." This is a point of great importance, as indicating the 
 locality in which Potiphar was a resident. The title translated "prince" 
 is of constant occurrence in the tombs of the magnates of Egypt ; and, 
 wonderful to tell, the inspired penman has copied it almost letter for 
 letter from the hieroglyphic original — srsh. The Pharaoh to whoso 
 court Potiphar was attached, and who afterwards became the patron of 
 
^6 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Joseph, was tlio King riiiops or Apliopbis. All the ancient authorities 
 who have mentioned the subject agree in this conclusion with such per- 
 fect unanimity, that to reject their testimony is simply, observes our 
 author, to throw overboard all antiquity. 
 
 From another expression which is used in the Divine record to desig- 
 nate the new master of the expatriated Hebrew youth, our author very 
 ino-eniously draws an argument in support of his view that the " shep- 
 herd kings," who were regarded with such detestation by the native 
 Egyptians, were of Canaanitish origin, and that, even after they were 
 subdued, many of their adherents still dwelt in the land. Here are his 
 remarks: "We are told that Potiphar was 'an Egyptian.' This would 
 appear, at first sight, to be a very needless piece of information regard- 
 ing a prince of Egypt residing in his native city ; yet is the expression 
 thrice repeated. In this very concise narrative, wherein no words are 
 wasted and nothing is written in vain, we cannot doubt that the peculiar 
 circumstances of Egypt at the time of Joseph's deportation tliither, have 
 suggested this expression. In ordinary cases it would have been a mere 
 pleonasm to write that a prince of Egypt, residing at Thebes, or any 
 other city of Egypt, was himself an Egj-ptian ; that would follow as a 
 matter of course. But at Heliopolis, in the days of Aphophis, when 
 there were Canaanites both in the court and camp of Pharaoh, the case 
 was very different ; and it was of the last importance to the descendants 
 of Joseph, in after times, to know that their progenitor had been a bond- 
 slave in the house, not of one of the accursed and devoted race of 
 Canaan, but of a prince of Egypt, a lineal descendant from Mizraim and 
 the first settlers, having his estate at Heliopolis, and named hereditarily 
 after the local god of his native city. In these circumstances has 
 originated the triple repetition of the fact that Potiphar was an Egyjitian." 
 
 But though thus rudely torn from his home and his kindred, Joseph 
 was not friendless or alone. God was with him, and his presence can 
 make even the house of bondage endurable, and compensate for any 
 material and social privations which his servants may be called upon to 
 
ANDINSTKUCTION. 'Jl 
 
 sufFcr. The inspired story is very clear and emphatic ou this point. 
 No sooner had Joseph reached Egypt than the wonderful plans of God 
 began to be disclosed in the history of his remarkable experiences. So 
 marked were the excellences of his character that "his master saw that 
 the Lord was with him, and that the Lord made all that he did to pros- 
 per in his hand. And Joseph found grace in his sight, and he served 
 him; and he set him over all his house, and all that he had he put into 
 his hand. And it came to pass, from the time that he had set him over 
 all his house and over all that he had, that the Lord blessed the Egyp- 
 tian's house for Joseph's sake ; and the blessing of the Lord was upon 
 all that he had in the house and in the field. And he left all that he 
 had in Joseph's hand, and knew not aught that he had, save the bread 
 which he did cat." Such are the rewards and distinctions which often- 
 times fall to the lot of early piety and manly rectitude. 
 
 |ffst))lt lit |1ri$fltt. 
 
 f^'ELL-DOESTG does not always exempt the servants 
 of God from trouble, misrepresentation, and dis- 
 aster. While the world is what it is, " they that 
 will live godly" must expect, to a greater or less 
 extent, to " suli'er pei-sccution." The path of duty 
 leads sometimes through strange and unexpected 
 Bccues. The inflexible honour of Joseph led him into a prison. But it 
 is better to sit on the floor of the dungeon with God's face beaming 
 upon us, than to recline on ivory and silken couches in the luxurious 
 palace, with sin stinging the conscience and remorse harrowing the 
 heart. Moreover, the light of piety that had burned so beautifully before 
 
28 PORTFOLIO or ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Potijiliar's honseliokl, so far from being extinguished by his removal, 
 now blessed the eyes of the inmates of the prison-house. Though put 
 among the "king's prisoners" — a strange, miscellaneous assemblage of 
 men, as we may imagine — such was the extraordinary fascination of 
 this foreign youth, that he speedily won the favour of the keeper of 
 the prison, who entrusted to him the oversight and control of the 
 prisoners. Thus palace and prison are alike, when the Lord is with his 
 people ; he can as easily promote their advancement in the latter as in 
 the former. 
 
 The nature of the new post to which the calumniated and wronged 
 young Hebrew was promoted is thus described by the writer of " Israel 
 in Egypt." "Joseph was the officer or task-master over the prisoners. 
 Ilis duties coincided exactly with those of the task-masters over his 
 descendants long afterwards. A fixed amount of labour was required 
 of the jailer, and his superiors never inquired into the means whereby 
 it was exacted. The skill and tact of Joseph in obtaining this, recom- 
 mended him to his keeper. These prisons were apparently regarded as 
 an indispensable appendage to every great construction in Egypt. The 
 reliefs upon the walls give fearful indications of the cruelties exercised 
 upon their unhappy inmates. Yet the Divine blessing can send pros- 
 perity even into such a den of misery. This is a cousolatoiy reflection 
 to those who believe the Bible." 
 
 While Joseph was thus occupied, giving dignity to daily drudgeries, 
 by the devout spirit with which they were performed, two high function- 
 aries of the court, who had incurred the royal displeasure, were con- 
 signed to captivity witli the general herd of prisoners. One of them 
 appears to have been head cellarman, or keeper of drinks for the royal 
 use ; and the other was the chief of the cooks. Upon the dignity and 
 importance of these offices in ancient Egypt, our author has the follow- 
 ing striking remarks. 
 
 "These princes were equal, probably superior, in rank to Potiphar. 
 Their ofEces were of the highest possible consideration. In all pictures 
 
AND IXSTRUCTION. 
 
 of liauquets, tlio eldest son liaiv.l.s tlio viands and tlie cnp to tlio father 
 of the family — the eldest danghter to the mother. This is especially 
 the case with Pharaoh, so that in all prohability these were princes of 
 the blood. It is very important that this should be imdcrstood, as 
 otherwise the force of the succeeding narrative is greatly weakened. 
 
 "It will be perceived that the principle of the law of Egypt we have 
 before explained, is also in force in the present instance. The superior 
 alone is held responsible for the whole of the acts of his subordinates. 
 Both the departments here in question were of an extent and import- 
 ance in ancient Egypt, of which our modern notions will receive but a 
 faint impression. Even in the establishments of the princes and nobles, 
 hundreds of men were employed in gatlieriug the grapes, and pressing 
 and storing the wine, and also in the preparation of the viands, for a 
 single banquet of frequent periodical recuri'euce. There were more than 
 a hundred dishes served in the tri-monthly festivals in honour of the 
 dead, held in the tomb of Xahrai at Bcnihassan. The bill of fare yet 
 remains. This is also the case with many other tombs. The otfeueo 
 with which these two princes were charged must have been of a very 
 grave character, connected in all probability with some attempt to 
 administer poison. They would not otherwise have been committed to 
 the slave prison." 
 
30 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 In Genesis xl., from the fifth to the thirteeuth verse, we have a narra- 
 tion of the dreams of these two princely culprits, and the favoural)le 
 interpretation of the dream of the cup-hearer hy Joseph. After turning 
 to the Bible and studying the passage, the reader will he prepared to 
 aj^preciate the following elucidatory remarks : — " This passage clearly 
 indicates the oiBce held by the functionary in the court of Pharaoh. 
 He had the oversight of the king's vineyards and the king's cellars, as 
 well as the function of cup-bearer to Pharaoh. The office was highly 
 esteemed in ancient Egypt. Many of the princes of the courts of 
 Suphis and Sephres have inscribed it in the long catalogue of their 
 titles. The peculiarities of the climate and soil of Egypt arc specially 
 suited to the culture of tlie vine, and of these daj-s of old scarcely a 
 tomb remains in which the entire process of the vintner's art, from the 
 planting and watering of the vine-stocks to the pouring of the expressed 
 juice from vessel to vessel, and storing it in earthen jars, is not most 
 carefully and elaborately depicted. That the oversight of the royal 
 vine^'ards was also associated with the function of cup-bearer to the 
 king is highly probable, though for the formal statement of tlie fact we 
 are indebted altogether to the passage before us. It was once imagined 
 that the vine did not grow in Egypt in ancient times, because Herodotus 
 and the Greek authors do not mention it. "We believe one of the infidel 
 objections of the last century to the passage before us was founded upon 
 this circumstance. The tombs, however, have a voice to answer it." 
 
 Every Bible reader knows how remarkably Joseph's interpretation 
 was verified in the restoration of the degraded functionary ; and will 
 remember, moreover, that sad illustration of human ingratitude which 
 was presented by the cup-bearer, who speedily forgot, amid tlie respon- 
 sibilities of office and the allurements of court life, the companion of 
 his misfortunes, who had, as a parting request, solicited the exercise of 
 his influence with the king to procure his release from unjust confine- 
 ment. Joseph had to learn what many others have had to experience 
 since his days, that " it is better to trust in the Lord than to put con- 
 fidence in princes." 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 31 
 
 "And wbeu the prince, the liiii^li steward, (of tlio cooks,) saw that 
 the interpretation was good, he said nnto Joseph, I also was in my 
 dream, and behold I had three baskets of white (probably pure) meats 
 upon my bead. And in the uppermost basket was all manner of bake- 
 meats for Pharaoh ; and the birds did eat them out of the basket upon 
 my head." (Gen. xl. 16, 17.) "The illustration of tliis passage, to be 
 found in the contemporary tombs of Egypt, is to the full as important 
 and interesting as those we have already cousiderd. The entire process, 
 from the slaughtering and flaying of the oxen, the capture and the 
 plucking of the birds, and the netting of the fish, up to the serving of 
 the bake-meats upon the guest-tables, are all minutely and elaborately 
 commemorated in those wondrous records of times and customs that 
 have so long passed away. The most trifling particular in the passage 
 finds its illustration there. 
 
 " When the sons and daughters of the princes of Egypt served their 
 parents at table, they carried upon their heads three baskets, one piled 
 upon the other, and in the uppermost were the bake-meats. That in 
 crossing tlie bypa^tbral courts of the palaces of Egypt, the viands would 
 be exposed to the birds, is a trait of every day life in hot countries. 
 We only notice it for the purpose of reminding the reader that, in 
 ancient Egypt, the vulture, the eagle, the ibis, and other carnivorous 
 birds were held sacred, and to destroy one of them was to incur the 
 penalty of murder. Flights of these voracious creatures haunted the 
 cities of Eg3'pt, and occasioned no little inconvenience to the inhabit- 
 ants. 
 
 In Genesis xl., verses 18, 19, 20, 22, we have Joseph's interpretation 
 of the chief baker's dream also, and an intimation of its fatal fulfilment; 
 in illustration of which avc have the following remarks by our author; 
 — " The birthday of the reigning king of Egypt was a high festival at 
 all periods of its history. One of the objects of the liosetta inscription 
 is, to decree the observances to take place on the birthday of Ptolemy 
 
32 
 
 PORirOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Epiplianos. Many similar decrees of earlier periods arc also extant. 
 That it would also be a da}- for the exercise of justice in a jail-deliveiy 
 is liigblj probable, and in accordance with ancient custom ; though here 
 again our text illustrates ancient Egypt, instead of receiving illustration 
 from it. The tombs of Egypt contain no records of crimes. It is to the 
 text, therefore, that we are once more indebted. Capital punishment 
 was by decapitation in ancient as in modern Egypt at this day. After 
 the execution, the bodies of the criminals were hung on trees, to be 
 devoured by the gods of Egj'pt." 
 
 f'I|C ttofl iuMtt tains. 
 
 r'E are told by Robertson, in his "Ilistorj' of America," 
 ^ ,„ that an expedition was undertaken by Juan Ponce 
 de Leon, iu the 16th century, with the view of dis- 
 covering a wonderful fountain, believed by the natives 
 
 of Puerto Rico to spring in one of the Lucayo Isles, 
 aud to possess the virtue of restoring j-outh to all 
 ivho bathed in its waters. 
 
 Tr.ME was, when a quaint band of wanderers sought, 
 In a pilgrimage weary, with suifering fraught. 
 For a far distant fountain, whose silver waves bore 
 The riches of life to the sands of the shore : 
 Where the merry stream danced in the rays of die sun, 
 Leaping high in its glee, as the current rolled on : 
 They sought amid peril, for, earnestly, they 
 Rested faith in the legend that pointed the way. 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 33 
 
 To one of Lucayo's briglit isles of the sea 
 They looked, as the spot whore that fountain should be ; 
 Tliose isles of the sun, where the breezes of air 
 Come freighted with fragrance sweet, balmy, and rare : 
 'Twas there they were taught, where each breath was delight, 
 That the streams of their search should appear to their sight, 
 Gemmed with amethysts, rubies, and treasures untold, 
 Of precious stones, emeralds, diamonds, and gold. 
 
 Whoever might bathe in that fountain should bear 
 
 A frame xincorrupted by sorrow or care ; 
 
 The bloom of life's vigour should mantle his cheek, 
 
 And his body, unscathed by time's lapse, ne'er grow weak ; 
 
 His eye hold its lustre, his voice keep its tone, 
 
 And youth reign triumphant when youth's years were gone; 
 
 Each sound from the glen, and the mountain and wave. 
 
 Give the promise of beauty unmarred by the grave. 
 
 Endued with such fuith, by such burning hopes led, 
 
 They rested not, t;u-rie J not, bowed not the head ; 
 
 Though the track of their journey was rugged and lone, 
 
 They hushed every plaint, and suppressed every tuoan : 
 
 No obstacle baffled, no peril dismayed. 
 
 Nor mountains discouraged, nor barrier stayed ; 
 
 On and onward they sped ; for the guerdon so fair, 
 
 That they hoped to possess, kept their souls from despair : 
 
 And their toils they beguiled, with the fanciful dream 
 
 Of laving their brow in that magical stream. 
 
 Thus toilsomely, heavily passed they, for ne'er 
 Did their anxious eyes welcome that fountain so fair; 
 And still, wildly mocking, through sorrow and pain, 
 The legend would lure them their object to gain. 
 3 
 
34 PORTFOLIO OF ENTE 11 TAINMENT 
 
 Though way-worn and anguished, ita promises sweet 
 Come like balm to their bosom and oil to their feet, 
 Might those life-giving waters be reached, they would know 
 All youth's joys in their brightest and sunniest glow. 
 
 Sweet Fount — sweetest vision ! Alas ! mortal eye 
 No trace of thy being may ever descry ! 
 Though its freshness be vaunted as perfect and pure, 
 Though its virtue be chaunted as holy and sure. 
 Frail child of the earth ! in no moss-covered dell 
 Hath a streamlet e'er borne such a magical spell; 
 ' No draught hath the power to lighten life's chain, 
 Or chancre tremulous asre into vigour again ! 
 
 But there is a rich fount, in a far distant land, 
 Which pourcth its flood on the glittering strand — 
 A fountain, whose source is celestial and bright, 
 And which flows through a realm of unclouded delight I 
 There no false legend lures, with its mystical strains. 
 Its believers to weariness, trials, and pains : 
 But a glory more perfect than earth can bestow 
 Sheds a halo too brilliant for mortal to know. 
 
 Of that pure living water, who drinks is at rest. 
 
 No longer by grief or afilictions distressed; 
 
 The weight of long years shall oppress him no more. 
 
 For the draught he has drained can his fervour restore; 
 
 No gathering film shall his vision obscure, 
 
 For that stream e'en the deepest of blindness can cure; 
 
 No fear for the future shall ever dismay. 
 
 For its tides can the gloomiest cares wash away. 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 35 
 
 O'crhanging that fountain the Tree of Life stands, 
 Sustained and upheld by Omnipotent hands; 
 Abroad, o'er the waters, cool shadows it flings 
 While above and around one vast melody rings. 
 'Tis the strains of the ransom'd, who sing of His love, 
 Who called them to join the blest choir above; 
 Who, sinless himself, could a sinful world save 
 From the curse and its penalty — death and the grave. 
 
 There flowers perennial are blooming in lustre, 
 
 And wide-spreading palms in fresh foliage cluster; 
 
 There rivers of pleasure in fulness are swelling, 
 
 And wave answers wave, on their anthem-notes dwelling : 
 
 Sweet fields and broad plains dressed in exquisite green. 
 
 Need no sunshine of earth to illumine their sheen 
 
 For before his bright presence, whose throne is on high, 
 
 A thousand suns' glories would glimmer and die. 
 
 No moon sheds its rays, and no twinkling stars shine, 
 
 In that region of splendour and rapture divine ; 
 
 But angel-bands stand, with their blood-washed robes gleaming 
 
 In the halo of light from his mighty throne streaming. 
 
 They strike their rich harps, and the eloquent strain 
 
 Is caught up, and repeated, and echoed again : 
 
 "All glory to God in the highest !" they sing, 
 
 "Redeemer, and Saviour, and Prophet, and King." 
 
 The eye hath not seen, and the ear hath not heard, 
 What blessedness is for the just ones prepared. 
 In the city above, where the jasper walls shine 
 In the majesty perfect of Godhead Divine ! 
 
36 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Its portals of pearl arc unclosed, as they rise 
 From the dulness of earth to the bliss of the skies, 
 And myriads of seraphs the chorus prolong. 
 As they join in the rapturous welcoming song 
 
 There friends, severed long, meet together in gladness, 
 
 rJo more to be pained by earth's partings and sadness; 
 
 All gloom and all doubtings have melted away. 
 
 And they live in the light of unquenchable day. 
 
 There the Lamb leads his flock, and they drink with delight 
 
 Of the Water of Life : now with faith changed to sight, 
 
 No sorrows afiBict them, no terrors distress, 
 
 For his grace is about them to guard and to bless ! 
 
 Very lovely, indeed, was the legend which told 
 Of the " Fountain of Youth" to the pilgrims of old ! 
 Full of beauty and hope ; but alas ! for its worth — 
 It was fabled and false, like each promise of earth : 
 But the " Fountain of Life" is of origin pure ; 
 The word that has spoken is steadfast and sure ! 
 Bear me hence. Angel Watchers, to that blissful shore. 
 Where all sighs shall be hushed, and all sufferings o'er. 
 
AND INSTKUCTION. 
 
 37 
 
 %\t |ig-fr£C. 
 
 HE common fig-tree was in all probaljility a native of 
 V* Asia, tbougli it was introduced into Europe at a very 
 early period. lu the east it grows in great luxuriance, 
 and travellers speak gratefully of its shelter and shade. 
 " It was," says Burckhardt, speaking of the neigh- 
 bourhood of Tiberias, "mid-day, and the sun was 
 intensely hot ; we therefore looked out for' a shady spot, and reposed 
 under a very large fig-tree, at the foot of which a rivulet of sweet water 
 gushed out from beneath the rocks, and fell into the lake at one hundred 
 paces distant." In a similar manner Hasselquist observes, " We refreshed 
 ourselves under the shade of a fig-tree, under which was a well, where a 
 shepherd and his herd had their rendezvous, but without either house 
 or hut." 
 
 This " sitting every man under his fig-tree" might thus well become an 
 almost proverbial expression to denote domestic peace and security, and 
 accordingly we find it often made use of in Scripture : for instance, 
 
 1 Kings iv. 25, where the prosperity of Solomon's reign is described, and 
 
 2 Kings xviii. 31, where the same idea occurs in Eabshakeh's specious 
 address to the Jewish people. 
 
 Solomon protected every man in the possession and enjoyment of his 
 own propert3\ They sat under the shadow and ate the fruit of their own 
 fig-trees ; peace and plenty were the universal charactei'istics of his wise 
 government. But this happy state of things was doubtless symbolical 
 of a far happier one — that kingdom of "righteousness, peace, and joy 
 in the Holy Ghost" which Christ's subjects shall enjoy when they shall 
 sit down under his shadow with great delight. This coming of Christ 
 to establish his church was the secret support of his people in all times, 
 and illumined the holy prospects of prophetic vision ; as that future day 
 which was to bring the Immauuel upon the scene of his wonderful 
 
38 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 achievements, was glanced at with more or less distinctness by all the 
 gifted teachers of the people, who saw the promises afar oft'. Thus we 
 see in Canticles ii. the happiness of Ilis spouse, the church, in looking 
 forward to the glorious consummation of her espousals with the great 
 Bridegroom, when, in allusion to the long j^eriod of conflict which was 
 to precede it, he thus addresses her — "Rise up, my dove, my fair one, 
 and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; 
 the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come ; 
 the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; the fig-tree putteth forth her 
 green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell." 
 
 The wintry storms Lave passed away, 
 
 And welcome spring again is nigh; 
 The sun, with bright and cheering ray, 
 
 Begins his cloudless course on high. 
 
 The waking flowers forth issue, glad 
 
 The renovating call to meet; 
 And in their goodliest garments clad, 
 
 Salute him with their incense sweet. 
 
 The vine puts on her best array. 
 
 To woo us to an earthly bound; 
 The figs their verdant vest display. 
 
 The turtle gives her plaintive sound. 
 
 But rise, my soul, and haste away, 
 
 For thee there waits a scene more bright; 
 
 Let nothing earthly force thy stay, 
 Or interrupt thy upward flight. 
 
 Oh, waken from thy carnal trance, 
 
 In dull oblivion no more lie; 
 See, see a fairer spring advance. 
 
 The daughter of a purer sky. 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 39 
 
 Pliny tells us tliat " the fruit of tlio fig-tree is the best food that can 
 be taken by those who have been brought low by long sickness and are 
 on the recovery," which accounts for the fact narrated in 1 Sam. xxx. 
 11, 12, that when an Egyptian was found fainting in the field, " a piece 
 of a cake of figs" was added to the bread and water which David com- 
 manded to be given him. We are also told by the same authority that 
 the fig is often employed in external applicjitions as plasters ; and in 
 2 Kings XX. 7, we read that the prophet Isaiah was commanded to take 
 a lump of figs and to lay it upon Ilezekiah's boil, with a gracious pro- 
 mise of recovery to the sufferer. A word, indeed, from the great Physi- 
 cian might have carried as much healing power as the fig : but in most 
 instances of God's gracious aid afforded to man, it seems to have been 
 his purpose to direct his attention and activity to the use of moans, and 
 to forbid that waiting for supernatural succour which might have 
 furnished an excuse for idleness and ease. 
 
 Pliny celebrates the African fig ; and that there were, as some travellers 
 tell us, " divers sorts known in Africa," seems confirmed by an anecdote 
 recorded in Roman history. It is said, that when Cato wished to excite 
 the Roman senators to declare war against Carthage, he took an early 
 African fig in his hand, and thus addressed them : — "I would ask you 
 how long it is since this fig was gathered from the tree ?" And when 
 they replied it was fresh gathered — "Yes," said he, "it is not yet three 
 days since this was gathered at Carthage, and by it we see how near the 
 walls of the city we have a mortal enemy." From the story of Cleopatra, 
 again, we may infer that there was a kind growing in Egypt fit for the 
 table of that luxurious queen, as the fatal asp was conveyed to her in a 
 basket of figs. 
 
 That the sycamore yielded the commoner fruit, which grew by the 
 wayside both in Palestine and Egypt, seems peculiarly worthy of remark, 
 as throwing light upon a passage in the gospel history which has 
 puzzled commentators. In Matthew xxi. 19, 20, our blessed Lord is 
 described as looking for fruit on a fig-tree at a time which St. Mark 
 
40 PORTFOLIO OF ENTE 11 TAINMENT 
 
 admits was not scasouable. " The time of tigs," he says, " was not yet," 
 (about the latter end of IMarch, according to chronologists). Our Lord 
 then proceeded to denounce a curse upon this barren fig-tree, which 
 speedily withered away, typifying the doom passed on the Jewish 
 church, which, though adorned with the green leaf of profession, was 
 not enriclied witli the fruit of the Spirit. ISTow, if we suppose the figs 
 sought for by our Lord to be that inferior sort produced by the sycamore, 
 the description given of it by travellers seems to account for the Saviour's 
 ex]iectatiou. Dr. ISTorden observes that the tree grows commonly by the 
 road-side, and in that case cannot be considered private property ; that it 
 is always green and bears fruit several times in the year without observ- 
 ing any certain seasons. " For I have seen," says this traveller, " some 
 sycamores which had fruit two mouths after others. The fruit has the 
 figure and smell of real figs, but is inferior to them in taste, having an 
 unpleasant sweetness. Its colour is yellow, inclining to flosh-colour ; in 
 the inside it resembles the common fig. The common peojilo of Egypt 
 live on its fruit. The tree being always green, pei'sons at a distance 
 cannot readily determine whether it has fruit on it or not." "Whether 
 we accept this explanation or not, the spiritual meaning of the parable 
 is obvious. All professing membere of Christ's Church are fig-trees in 
 the vinej'ard ; all are leafy ; few are fruitful. By leaves may be aptly 
 represented mere words, sterile desires, formal outward performances ; 
 whereas fruits are the graces of the Spirit — "love, joy, peace, long- 
 suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, and temperance," shown 
 forth in a holy and consistent life. May we, by the goodness of God, 
 abound in the latter, and so escape the denunciation which is addressed 
 against the former. 
 
 "Ah! where is that green leafy show 
 That promised such fruit to bestow? 
 It is gone — and the tree, too, is dried up and gone; 
 And how was the work so decisively done 
 Tliut forbad it for ever to grow ? 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 41 
 
 It wa3 not the tempest, ■when wide 
 
 It scatters the dark forest pride, 
 
 At the bidding of Ilim whom the tempests obey; 
 
 But it was that swift word which had only to say, 
 
 Die, profitless tree ! — and it died. 
 
 And so will fresh piety shoot. 
 
 With the leafy precursors of fruit; 
 
 But I 've seen the leaves fill, and the branches decay, 
 
 And the fuir-budding promises wither away, 
 
 From the failure of life at the root. , 
 
 I have seen the ambitious house fall, 
 
 Though the cedar had built up its wall; 
 
 Prosperity blasted, and beauty decay, 
 
 And the pageants of this world all passing away; 
 
 To their graves I have followed them all. 
 
 I have seen, too, the humble man fill 
 
 His station unnoticed and still. 
 
 While fixed was his lot in this turmoil of dust ; 
 
 But his branches were moistened with dew, as his trust 
 
 Shot upwards to God's holy hill. 
 
 And a sweet emanation around, 
 
 To the root an unseen passage found, 
 
 And it seemed as if sometimes a secret supply 
 
 Dropped invisibly down from the cloudless blue sky, 
 
 And solaced the plant underground." 
 
42 1' II T F L I OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 f tssnns bn tlu .§t;isii)t. 
 
 " Iluman life is often compared to the ocean ; and the sons of men are voyagers to eternity. Their 
 successive generations, like the mountain billows, are driven onward by the same agency, and dashed 
 upon the same shore j and the various characters and circumstances of men may find some striking 
 illustration in the changing states and aspects of the mighty deep." 
 
 ^Tvcy^ HERE is, i^erhaps, no object in creation more calcu- 
 \' lated to inspire the fallen children of the dust with an 
 overwhelming feeling of their own insignificance than 
 is a view of the wide expanse of waters. It inspires 
 the thoughtful with exalted ideas of the power and 
 majesty of the Creator of the universe, and suggests 
 humiliating views of themselves. On a recent visit to the sea-coast, the 
 writer, as he beheld the sea under various aspects, indulged in a serious 
 reverie. 
 
 The surges were dashing upon the beach, and the rude breakers prac- 
 tising their wild gambols as they rolled in upon the shore. The surf 
 reared its head as a last effort, and piled up its dark waters, lifting above 
 them its white crest, glittering in the sunbeams, then died upon the 
 shore. 
 
 I looked, and I thougM of Him who gave to the sea its bounds, and 
 said, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further; and here shall the pride 
 of thy waves be stayed ;" — of Him who commanded the winds and the 
 waves, "Be still ; and there was a great calm."' I thought — in the sea 
 of life the storm rageth ; the tempests riot wildly. The wicked world, 
 like the troubled sea, is continually casting up mire and dirt, jealousy 
 and anger, hatred and falsehood, all impurity ; " There is no peace to 
 the wicked, saith my God." But God, who can control the raging 
 waves of the deep, can by his grace subdue the passions of men, and say 
 to the troubled soul, "Peace; be still" "Come unto me, and I will 
 give you rest ;" and there is no rest for any out of Christ. 
 
A X D I X s T R r C T I X . 43 
 
 " They shall fiuj rest tliat learn of me, 
 I'm of a meek and lowly miud; 
 But passion rages like the sea, 
 
 And pride is restless as the wind." 
 
 IIow long has this ocean rolled ou iu its might ! The storm lias, times 
 without number, deeply agitated and swept over its surface. IIow many 
 have stood on its shores, and listened to the "deep bass of nature's 
 anthem," as the winds and waves mingled their voices together ! Here 
 once stood the proud Roman, and heard in its ceaseless roar the thunders 
 of the "God of the sea;" here once stood a tower of defence, but the 
 waves have levelled it with the shore ; and ancient cities lie upon its 
 coast in ruins ; j'et the ocean bears no traces of age or decaj'. Buried 
 beneath the beach are the dwellings, the coins, and implements of our 
 ancestors. But the fathers, where are they ? The place which knew 
 thorn knows them no more ; and soon those happy groups, now rambling 
 on the beach, full of life and activity, and buoyant with hope and joy, 
 will pass away; others will take their places, gaze on this glorious scene, 
 and die; but onward these waters will swell and flow, and these wild 
 billows sing their requiem over the dead, till the period shall arrive 
 when there shall be no more sea. Here, thought I, is an apt illustration of 
 the fleeting nature of all things earthl}^ The sea shall be dried up ; the 
 earth, with all its troubles and commotions will then have passed away ; 
 true Christians will be entirel}' free from conflicting passions, tempta- 
 tions, troubles, changes and alarms, and from whatever can divide or 
 interrupt the communion of saints. " There renuiineth a rest to the 
 people of God." Reader, when there is no more sea, where wilt thou bo ? 
 
 " See that your peace with God be made, 
 Ere you are summoned to the dead 
 Who warn you — 'Yesterday was auis ; 
 To-day is >/oiirs: 
 Be steadfast : this your all secures.' " 
 
44 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEnTAINMENT 
 
 " There go tlio ships." Far out upon the deep I saw the lesseuiuo- 
 sails of nian}^ a gallant ship, soon to vanish from my sight. IIow many 
 anxious thoughts accompany them, and probably not a few prayers 
 ascend to heaven for their safe conduct over the watery element. I looked 
 and I tJiougltt — wives and mothers will watch with eagerness the gather- 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ing cloud, and as they hoar the howling tempest, will tremble and fear 
 for those they love, tossed on the bosom of the deep, and will anxiously 
 long for the hour when they shall be restored to their kindred and their 
 home. There may be one reading these pages who has recently left his 
 home to do business on the great' waters of life. How many thoughts 
 follow thee, young friend ! how many eyes are fixed on thee ! how many 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 45 
 
 prayers ascend for a prosperous voyage ! Thou hast left, perliaps, a quiet 
 village, for the turmoil and hustle of city life. It may be that the prayers 
 of pious parents and friends ascend on thy behalf, for thy preservation 
 from the temptations by which thou mayst be surrounded, and the assaults 
 of the adversary to which thou mayst be exposed. Young friend, pray for 
 thyself, "My Father, be thou the Guide of my youth ; lead me in a plain 
 path, and teach me, because of mine enemies." Cry unto the Lord, 
 "Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe — guide me, and I shall not err." 
 
 " In every changing scene of life, 
 Whato'cr that scene may be, 
 Give me a meek and humble mind, 
 A mind at peace with thee." 
 
 At some distance from the shore lay a wreck imbedded in the sand ; 
 the waves were breaking around and over it, and on its huge timbers 
 was hanging a mantle of weeds. I looked, and I thougld — Had that 
 desolate wreck a tongue, what an eventful story would it relate. We 
 should be told of the care and expense attending its construction — how 
 nobly she first glided into her destined element amidst the cheers of 
 spectators. She was fitted, and, laden with a rich freight, set sail, and 
 for a while resisted the storm and the tempest. * * * ^pjiji 
 landsman reposed peacefully upon his pillow, and as the voice of the 
 storm howled around his casement, felt only a pleasing sense of his own 
 security. But that noble vessel felt its power and succumbed to its fury. 
 A fearful crash announced her fate, and cast forth those who had trusted 
 to her to battle with raging billows, either to find a watery grave, or 
 bruised and breathless to reach the shore. 
 
 Is there not a counterpart to this in the moral world ? In the circle 
 of fashion and dissijiation, how many whose lives commenced with the 
 fairest prospects, and on whom the fondest hopes centred, have made 
 shipwreck of character, and, like this broken vessel, have left a ragged 
 bi'okcu wi'cck to tell a sad and impressive story. " Oh that men were 
 
4G PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 wise that tliey uuderstoocl this, that they would consider their hitter 
 end !" 
 
 The shadows of evening fell wpon those waters, and the quiet stars 
 peeped from their hiding-places. The breakers, lighted up with phosplio- 
 reseent flashes, rolled in fire-waves upon the rocks. High above those 
 troubled waters, shone the bright light of tliat " faithful sentinel which, 
 amidst storms and darkness, stands to keep watch for tlie sailors. 1 
 
 Vr^^ 
 
 hoJceiJ, and I tJiougJit — So shines the lamp of God's wora over the 
 troubled sea of life, and he who fixes his eye upon it, and is guided by 
 it, shall be safely conducted to the haven of peace. " Thy word is a 
 lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." " Thou shalt guide me 
 by thy counsel." 
 
 Night let fall her sable mantle, spangled with stars. Hooked, and my 
 iliouglits went upivards to Him who rolls the stars in their courses. Tell 
 mc thou in whose heart is written the dreadful words, "No God," by 
 what power do these waters roll? — who gave to the sea its bounds? 
 Gaze upon that splendid canopy above your head, the glorious throne 
 of the Invisible, and say, Is not the hand of Omnipotence in all this ? 
 " Learnest thou no lesson of thine own insignificance, and of his wisdom 
 and power? Is no desire awakened in thy bosom to acquaint thyself 
 
A N D I N S T R U C T I N . 47 
 
 ■\vitli liini and be at peace? That mighty ocean, whose surges are 
 breaking at thy feet, is his workmanship, and obeys his voice. Its 
 magnitude and unchanging character is but a faint image of his infini- 
 tude and immutability." Canst thou doubt, when every voice that 
 meets thine ear proclaims the power and glory, the wisdom and love of 
 thy Creator — thy God? Wilt thou not joiu in the chorus which the 
 heavens, and the earth, and sea are singing? Look, we implore you, 
 upon the works of God, and think, and may thy thoughts be toward 
 thy God; "acquaint thyself with him; look to him in faith and love, 
 who, though, infinite in might and majesty, will dwell in the heart of 
 the humble and contrite. He alone can say, "Peace, be still," to a 
 troubled conscience — in his favour is life. If thou wilt despise his love, 
 and thinl<: liglit of his power, and doubt his existence — the day shall 
 declare it; for, at his bidding, the heavens and the earth shall flee away, 
 and there shall be no more sea, but thou canst not be annihilated ; thy 
 soul shall never die, but, unsaved, shall be cast into depths of eternal 
 agitation, where there shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of 
 teeth. "Flee from the wrath to come." "In me," says a compassion- 
 ate Saviour, "ye shall have peace." Christ Jesus died to save sinners 
 — Eepeut, believe, and live. 
 
48 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF E N T E E T A I N M E N T 
 
 %\t glummii MHat. 
 
 MON'G the marvels of the natural world, few 
 things are more surprising than the fact that some 
 seeds are capable of retaining the principle of 
 vitality unimpaired for centuries. Of late years we 
 have had abundant examples of grains of corn, whose 
 living germs, after having lain dormant during 
 the revolutions of kingdoms, the change of dynas- 
 ties, the extiuction of languages, and the transfer of the great seats of 
 civilization, learning, and commerce, have germinated and sprouted, 
 and given birth to abundant harvests, whose increase is now feeding 
 the children of men in the present generation. Many of these wondrous 
 seeds have been taken from the mud-lining of the mummy cases of 
 Thebes, where they were interred at least two thousand years ago. 
 
 Behold how pleasant to the eye 
 Yon waving corn appears; 
 
 The slender stalks swayed to and fro 
 Beneath the golden ears. 
 
 Strange is the story of the seed 
 That first was planted there; 
 
 How marvellous the withered grain 
 "An hundred-fold" should bear! 
 
 Within a silent tomb it passed 
 
 A lapse of ages slow, 
 Bound in a dark Egyptian's hand 
 
 Three thousand years ago. 
 
ANDINSTRliCTION. 49 
 
 rortrayod upon tho massive walls 
 
 Might all his deeds be viewed, 
 But none had ever yet disturbed 
 
 The awful solitude. 
 
 At length within the sculptured cell 
 
 A stranger dared to tread ; 
 And lo ! with sacrilegious Lands, 
 
 He stole the ancient dead. 
 
 Far from the gorgeous sepulchre 
 
 He bore his prize away, 
 Till here on distant ground he laid 
 
 His venerable prey. 
 
 With careful fingers he removed 
 
 The swathings one by one, 
 And gazed at last upon the form 
 
 Of Egypt's swarthy son. 
 
 And straight arose the fragrant scent 
 
 Of spices, oils, and balm. 
 And grains of corn went rolling down 
 
 From off the blackened palm ; — 
 
 Grains that perchance were treasured up 
 
 In Canaan's time of dearth ; 
 Dry as they were, we planted them. 
 
 In hope, beneath the earth. 
 
 The gentle rain of heaven came down. 
 
 And soft refreshing dew ; 
 The mummy-wheat their influence felt, 
 
 Awoke to life, and grew. 
 
,^0 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 And lo ! the springing blades came forth, 
 As tender, fresh, and green. 
 
 As though the parent grain last year 
 Within the car had been. 
 
 And now the tall and fragile stem 
 Its graceful head uprears ; 
 
 And see ! within the bursting husk, • 
 The yellow corn appears. 
 
 " Come hither, ye whose patient hands 
 
 "Beside all waters" sow; 
 The lovely crop ye long to view 
 In God's good time will grow. 
 
 In faith and hope a mother taught 
 Her lisping babe to pray; 
 
 The seed she planted in his heart 
 Sprang when his head was gray. 
 
 Go forth with courage; still your bread 
 
 Upon the waters cast; 
 Tho' vainly sought for many days, 
 
 It shall be found at last. 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 51 
 
 6Iimps(s of the IHlgiiiii liitlrtrs. 
 
 S>^<g^^'- TT7A-RT7TTT +1,^ t^.^Jq,. (j,jee„, was gathered to her 
 
 *^>f ffsT^T LIZABETH, the Tu 
 ^ 5, .^ V J,, lathers, and James, tl 
 
 ■'^Sf)^ {v'^' J,' fathers, and James, the first of the Stuarts, sat upon 
 
 ^'i:^^^t^ \ *^"^ English throne. Clinging with violent pertinacity 
 
 '' iC'l" '^'"O'l to the prejudices and prerogatives of his predecessor, 
 
 ■35-»t, --i_,A*^4-- lio subjected every one of his subjects who claimed 
 
 ' ' '' ' liberty of conscience to the penalty of rebels. 
 
 Barrow and Greenwood, with a rope round their necks, had been, at 
 the close of the late reign, hung at Tyburn. I'erry, that true hearted 
 young Welshman, leaving a widow and j'onng children, laid his martyr- 
 head on the scaffold ; and in his dying address to his distressed brethren, 
 lie seems to have anticipated the fact that, since England aiforded the 
 hand of worsliippers no asylum, they must leave England, and seek in 
 foreign lands that privilege which their own country denied. ^lany 
 fled to Holland as a place of refuge. But they were exiles still; the}' 
 never forgot this fact. Many waters cannot quench the love of country, 
 and ofttimes the pilgrims sighed for home scenes, dear from many a fond 
 association. 
 
 America was already a land of promise, and A'irginia owned the same 
 king as England ; and to the new world, therefore, they turned their 
 pilgrim feet. Their property was sold and converted into a common 
 stock — not, as some historians have asserted, under any "wild idea of 
 imitating the primitive Christians," but as an arrangement into which 
 the}' were forced by the nature of their negotiations with the English 
 company of merchants. 
 
 A small vessel of 60 tons was bought accordingly, and in this, the 
 Speedwell, the dopiitation who had been to England to make arrange- 
 ments for the new colony, returned when their business was completed. 
 A patent had been obtained, securing to the emigrants civil rights, and 
 
bZ PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 liberty of worf^lilp, and in addition to the Speedwell, the Mayjloivcr, a 
 vessel of 180 tons, was also purehased. 
 
 But only a minority of the Le3-den congregation could find accommo- 
 dation in the limited space, and Robinson, among others, remained 
 behind. It was a solemn hour when the departing band received their 
 leader's farewell blessing. Nearly the whole of the English exiles — 
 old men, women, and little children — met together at Delft Haven to 
 see the ship sail, and beautifully instructive was Robinson's last charge. 
 "Brethren," he said, "we are now quickly to part from one another, 
 and whether I may live to see your faces on earth again, the God of 
 heaven only knows ; but I charge you before God and his blessed angels, 
 that you follow me no further than you have seen me fijUuw tlio Lord 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 And thus they parted ; a small and feeble company were committed 
 to the great ocean, and to the untried world bej'ond, not for fame, not 
 for wealth, not for discover}', but for the free exercise of their religion, 
 they went forth, and many a soul wished them God speed. As the 
 vessel left the shore, the venerable Robinson knelt down by the water's 
 edge, and with folded hands, and heart lifted up to heaven, prayed for 
 a blessing upon his scattered flock. A prosperous gale soon wafted 
 them to Southampton, and in a fortnight more the Mayflower and Speed- 
 well left the shores of England for America. But when already on the 
 Atlantic, the smaller vessel was found to need repairs, and the captain 
 of the Speedwell, alarmed and discouraged at the outset, abandoned the 
 enterprise, and they were compelled once more to put back to Plymouth. 
 The timid and the hesitating, accordingly, left the expedition, and soon 
 the little Mayflower with its decreased band of emigrants, one luindred 
 in number, was seen ploughing ita solitary path over the mighty waters, 
 whilst He whose eye is on the deep as well as on the dry land, guided 
 and blessed them hy the way; and on the sixty-third day after their 
 embarkation from Plymouth, the anxious watchers on deck caught a 
 glimpse of laud — the shore of the new world. 
 
A N D I N S T R U C T I X . 53 
 
 Tlio first glimpse of the grceo land of America clieered tlic sinking 
 liearts of the pilgrims. The waving woods, which belted even the 
 ocean's brink, caused them to rejoice together, and praise God for his 
 , mercies. What a siglit it must have been for man (we feel assured that 
 angels rejoiced) when the poor exiles' lirst act on reaching the shore was 
 to kneel down and thank God for his mercies ! But they were not yet 
 arrived at their journey's end. It was in the south, even at the mouth 
 of the lludsou river, that they had resolved to settle ; and, whether by 
 accident or treachery, the captain frustrated their intention in the first 
 instance, and set them on shore on a far less civilized and inviting spot. 
 After again putting out to sea, the ship was so entangled amidst shoals 
 and breakers that they were compelled, on the second day, to put back 
 to Cape Cod ; and impatient of delay, it being by this time the middle 
 of Xovcmber, the captain declared his intention of returning, so that 
 tlie emigrants had no alternative but to remain at the Cape. 
 
 Soon the Mayflower was to set sail and to leave the pilgrims on the 
 strand. On tlie one side was the great Atlantic, on the other the 
 unknown wilderness ; but above, and around, and in their hearts, love 
 to God and one another. Elements of jiaradise these ! 
 
 The calculations and plans of man are oftentimes, in mercy and 
 wisdom, frustrated by the great Deviser of all things. Had the weak 
 and suffering handful of exiles been permitted to carry out their origi- 
 nal design of settling near the Hudson, they would, in all probability, 
 defenceless as they were, have fallen by the hands of the red Indian 
 tribes who populated the vast savaunahs of the river. But from this 
 danger they were rescued on the bleak coast of New England. The first 
 of the natives with whom the pilgrims held any intelligible intercourse 
 was Samoset, an Indian of the Wampanoags, who had picked up a few 
 English words from the fishermen who came to that shore for cod ; anil 
 from him they learned that the land was indeed desolate, a great pesti- 
 lence having nearly depopulated the district, and that free scope was 
 open to the projects of the white men. It now only remained to take 
 
54 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 possession. Exploring parties, following the Indian trail, tracked the 
 wild woods, and one of their journalists at length notes : "After a long 
 and devious ramble, about ten o'clock we came into a deepe valley fall 
 of brush, wood gaile, and long grasse, through which we found little 
 paths or tracks, and there we saw a deere and found springs of fresh 
 w^ater, of which we were heartily glad, and sat us downe and drunke our 
 first New England water as heartily as ever we drunke driuke in all 
 our lives." 
 
 On one of these occasions the new settlers found a little path loading 
 to heaps of sand, into which they dug, and found but the decaying bow 
 and arrows of an Indian warrior, one of the last of his race ; and they 
 digged in various others to find, alas ! nothing else but graves. 
 
 The first of Decenaber dawned. Many a one in that band remembered 
 the yule logs of the old world, and as yet they were only among graves ; no 
 home, no shelter, was provided against the chilling blast of an American 
 winter. One treasure, however, they found in one of these Indian sepul- 
 chres, even " a little old basket, full of faire Indian corn," which was, 
 they said, a goodly sight; a treasure, indeed, of greater worth tliau a 
 mine of gold dust in their position. 
 
 The poor shallop which was left them had been so injured by her 
 voyage between the decks of the vessel, that she had to be repaired, and 
 when this was accomplished. Carver, Bradford, Winslow, and Standish 
 set out to explore the shores of the jSTew World, and fix on the spot of 
 their final settlement. 
 
 But the season was far advanced. Eude gusts of wind dashed the 
 spray about the voyagers ; whilst those on shore, one morning during 
 their absence, were greeted on awaking by the wild war-whoop of the 
 Indians, and a flight of arrows at the same moment gave notice of an 
 attack. A wandering tribe, cherishing bitter hatred to the English, had 
 stolen upon them ; but they stood to arms, and no harm ensued. In the 
 meantime, the exploring party were driven on a small island late one 
 Saturday, and being the last day of the week, they dried their stuff, 
 
AND I N S T 11 L' C T ION. 56 
 
 fired tbeir pieces, returned tliaiili;s for deliverance, and resolved here to 
 keep the first Christian Sabbath. 
 
 Time was pressing ; it was the 9th of December ; the cold M'as piercing, 
 and they were yet homeless; but, all honour to the religion of the onuii- 
 present God, they knew that He whom they serv'ed could hear the hymn 
 of praise and the voice of prayer among the pines of the forest, as Avell 
 as in the aisle of the cathedral ; and thus they kept the Sabbath. 
 
 On ^londay they sounded the harbour, and, after being satisfied with 
 its safety, and finding corn-fields and little running brooks, they returned 
 to the expectant people they had left behind, and gladdened their anxious 
 hearts by their re-appearance. 
 
 The day on which the pilgrim fiithers landed at Plymouth is yet 
 marked by religious services in i^ew England, and is called by the simple 
 appellation of " Forefathers' day." Plymouth was the name given to 
 the new settlement by the exiled Englishmen. 
 
 The month of December was over. The enrigrants sufiered terribly 
 from coughs, a)id it became imperative to provide etMcient shelter for the 
 weaker and more atfiicted of the band. Wood was cut down accordingly, 
 in the intervals between the storms. A rising ground was chosen as the 
 site of the new city, an eminence commanding a magnificent view both 
 of sea and land. 
 
 But wives, mothers, and sisters were there, and something like family 
 joy might have been felt through that dreary winter, had not death 
 entered, and made a sad blank in loving hearts and beside the rude 
 hearths. Cai^ver, the governor of the republic, first lost his son, and 
 soon afterwards he was himself laid in the same grave, the first dug in 
 the wilderness. Then followed the widow; and, in March, Governor 
 Bradford records : " Thirteen of our number died ; and, in three months 
 more, out of one hundred, but fifty remained, — the living scarce able to 
 bury the dead." The sailors, too, of the Mai/flotver, which had still lin- 
 gered in the haven, were attacked, and half the company died before 
 sailing; but they yet trusted in God, and he delivered them. 
 
56 PORTFOLIO OF E X T t R T A I N JI E K T 
 
 But the pilgrim fathers hoped on ; sickness and death had thinned 
 their ranks ; grave after grave was dug in the wilderness ; yet God 
 was above all, and behind the cloud the sun of liis blessing was 
 shining. 
 
 Winter was over and gone, the south wind blew softly, and the forest- 
 birds mingled their notes with the voice of the pilgrims' thanksgiving, 
 when one da}' an Indian came to their little citadel. What, however, 
 must have been the joyful relief of the fearful strangers, to hear the well- 
 known English word from the red man's lips — that happy, hopeful, 
 home word — "Welcome." That they made him welcome, there can be 
 no doubt. They gave him "strong water" (that, however, would cer- 
 tainly have been better omitted), biscuit, butter, cheese and pudding ; 
 and he, in return, gave them much valuable information. He told them 
 that they had nothing to dread from the red man. 
 
 These are but a few details of the early difficulties and struggles of 
 these good men. By degrees some of their troubles passed away, and 
 as the old men were gatheied as shocks of corn fully ripe, youth and 
 zeal and piety took their vacant places, and the colony flourished and 
 pi'Osj)ered. Theirs was a great work. Driven from their native land, 
 theirs was the honour and blessing of carrying with them to the red 
 Indian the indestructible word of truth. The new world had as yet seen 
 little of the Christianity of a Christian country. Love of money and of 
 gain, but not of God, had brought the first colonists to America. But these 
 men, for the sake of Christ, had forsaken all and followed him ; and still 
 is the memory of the Pl^-mouth pilgrims present as an example or warn- 
 ing, not to their descendants alone, but to many a settler, from the St. 
 Lawrence to Mexico. The swords of Carver and Elder Brewster are still 
 shown to the visitor by the Massachusetts Historical Society, and at 
 Boston a lineal descendant of General Winslow preserves the portrait of 
 his ancestor. His Bible, too, is still in being — that well-worn Bible, which 
 must have been to the good man a very well-spring in a desert — a rock 
 on an ocean. Trifles are these relics, but they are precious to those who 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 57 
 
 venerate the character of the pious dead, and for them we may say, 
 "Behold their record is on high." 
 
 The pilgrim fathers are now at rest, but the Spirit which gnided and 
 sustained them is still ready to guide and strengthen every follower of 
 the Saviour; and he will need that strength — never douht it — for the 
 world is a battle-field, and without the whole armour of God, the soldiers 
 will fall in the conflict and the world will bo triumiihant. 
 
 Cnmnuinion luitlj the gnJr. 
 
 Are they not ministering spirits? — Ueb. i. 14. 
 
 Some are dead among the living, 
 
 Some alive among the dead, 
 Men with bodies without spirits, 
 
 Spirits from the body sped — 
 Which, my soul, shall be thy portion, 
 
 Sordid flesh or spirit free ? 
 Wilt thou join this world's communion, 
 
 Or the heavenly company ? 
 
 Two mysterious processions — 
 
 See them as they sweep in sight, 
 One in cerements funereal. 
 
 But the other clothed in white — 
 One with weeping and with wailing — ■ 
 
 Let their words fall on thy car — 
 '• We did choose our own perdition, 
 
 Called lie, but we would not hear. 
 
58 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 " Came lie oft to us entreating, 
 
 But we closed to him the door, 
 Closing to ourselves sulvatioa 
 
 Ever and for ever more." 
 See the other, as in meekness. 
 
 Comes it singing words of love — 
 " We were sinners all unworthy. 
 
 Saved alone by gi"ace above." 
 
 ! the lovely and the gentle ! 
 
 ! the loved and lost below ! 
 They are in that great assembly. 
 
 Calling to us as they go — 
 " Wilt thou not, our best beloved. 
 
 Come with us in company ? 
 Lingered have we, lingered for you. 
 
 Eor your ministey are we." 
 
 For from the assembly blessed 
 
 Of the dead in Christ above, 
 Ministering spirits sends He 
 
 To the scenes of earthly love; 
 To the friends whom they love dearest, 
 
 So that by the mystic hold 
 Of the loved dead on the living 
 
 He may draw them to hb fold. 
 
 Some are dead among the living. 
 
 Some alive among the dead ; 
 Men with bodies without spirits, 
 
 Spirits from the body sped — 
 Which, my soul, shall be thy portion — 
 
 Sordid flesh or spirit free — 
 Choosest thou the train funereal ? 
 
 Or the heavenly company ? 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 
 
 Pictw upon ;i ^braiu. 
 
 ESTCE the quarrel between the first two brothers on 
 earth, poor humanity has been engaged in almost un- 
 ceasing warfare. Declared in Scripture to be one of the 
 divine scourges on a disobedient people, it has yet, like 
 all other chastisements in the hand of a gracious God, 
 been often converted into a blessing. An excellent 
 Christian body, whose members have been largely distinguished by acts 
 of benevolence, are opposed, it is true, on conscientious principles, to 
 war in any form ; but while we are bound to respect such opinions, they 
 have not, as is well known, been those held by the church at large. 
 Even the occupations of a soldier, and the scenes he is obliged to witness, 
 though calculated to harden the heart, have occasionally developed the 
 noblest traits of pure Christianity, and it is well known tliat some of the 
 most devoted and faithfLiI Christians whom the workl has seen have been 
 fdund among the military ranks. 
 
 Among distinguished Christian warriors, if that name ma}- be per- 
 mitted, Gustavns Adolphus, king of Sweden, holds a prominent place. 
 He was bora in Stockholm on the 9th of December, 1594; crowned king 
 of Sweden at Nykoeping, 26th of December, 1611, and fell in the battle 
 ofLutzen, the 6th of November, 1632. Born — crowned — fell! these 
 three words record the historj' of the great man. His grandfather, 
 Gustavus Vasa, had introduced the reformation into Sweden ; his father, 
 Cliarles IX., had completed the work ; and it remained for Gustavus 
 Adolphus to become one of the most distinguished defenders of Pro- 
 testantism against the attacks of its enemies. It is written in the hook 
 of life, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and wlien he is old 
 he will not depart from it ;" and not one pi-omiso of that blessed book 
 has ever been found to deceive those who trust in it. In choosing tutors 
 
CO PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 for his son, Charles IX. selected only those whom ho know to he 
 godly men, and who would not forget that the fear of the Lord is the 
 beginning of wisdom. John Skitte and Otto de ^loerner were the names 
 of the men to whom this charge was committed. 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus seems from a very early age to have been under 
 the influence of vital religion. Even as a child he never commenced any 
 new undertaking without first committing it to God in prayer ; and when 
 he was become a man, he saw no reason to give over the practice. IIow 
 wondrous is the influence of prayer ! It gives such clearness to the con- 
 ceptions, and such firmness to the whole character! At ten years of age, 
 this youth took his seat regularly in the council of state, and two years 
 later important conmiissious were intrusted to him. In his fifteenth 
 ,year we find him giving audience to foreign ambassadors, mustering 
 the armj', providing for the wants of the soldiers, undertaking a success- 
 ful embassy to Denmark to prevent the outbreak of hostilities, and 
 taking an active part in the deliberations of the council of state ; we 
 know, also, that it was his regular communion with God which gave the 
 lofty and pure tone to his whole character. 
 
 Many years later, in the tumults of the camp, he used to say, " I try 
 to keep away the temptations of the devil by keeping near to the word 
 of God." He often retired, and remained for hours alone in secret devo- 
 tion, and would not sufl'er himself to be disturbed. On one such occa- 
 sion a messenger arrived at the camp with news of importance ; the 
 business could bear no delay, and on entering his tent, the messenger 
 found the king bathed in tears and on his knees before an open Bible. 
 The intruder was about to retire, when the king, rising slowl}' from his 
 knees, bade him remain. "You ma}-, perhaps, think it strang-e," he 
 said, " to see me thus occupied, when I have so many to pray for me, 
 but no one has so much need of prayer as the man who is responsible to 
 God alone for his conduct. When I first seek counsel of God, and 
 obtain tlie divine approbation, I may -then venture fearlessly to carry 
 out my plans." 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 61 
 
 It was well that Gustaviis Adolphns had early learned the efficacy of 
 prayer, for the decease of his father brought him at a very early age to 
 the throne of Sweden. He liad just completed his seventeenth year, 
 when on the 17th of December, IGll, he was proclaimed king, and nine 
 days later was crowned. lie may have felt at that time as king Solomon 
 did, and his pra3-er was the same : "And now, O Lord my God, thou 
 hast made thy servant king instead of my father, and I am but a little 
 child. Give, therefore, thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy 
 people." 
 
 Ills natural fiei-y disposition required much grace to subdue it, and 
 though his general character was subject to the law of God in a pre-emi- 
 nent degree, still he was not free from many and grievous failings. lie 
 liad grown up at a court where duels were common, and where the 
 polish of later times had as yet not entered. Shortly after he became 
 king, an incident occurred which shows something of his character. A 
 Scotch officer. Colonel Seaton, who was at court, had at one time made 
 some mistake in the discharge of duty. The king, in his usual manner, 
 gave him a severe reprimand, when the Colonel attempting to palliate 
 the oftcnee, received from Gustavus a smart box on the ear. Seaton at 
 once surrendered his commission, and hastened to offer his services to 
 the king of Denmark. Gustavus Adolphus soon repented of what he 
 had done, and, taking a few companions, he mounted his horse, and 
 galloped after the Scotchman, overtaking him just as he had crossed the 
 Swedish frontiers. "Colonel," said the king on coming up, "I have 
 done you injustice, and have insulted you, for which I am very sorry; 
 and knowing you to be a man of honour, I have come to offer you satis- 
 faction. Here are pistols and swords, clioose which you will, for be^-ond 
 the frontiers Gustavus Adolphus and Seaton are equals." Seaton sprang 
 from his horse, fell on his knee before the king, and begged to be again 
 taken into his service; for such a king he would gladly live and die. 
 The offer was accepted, and on returning to court, the king stated pub- 
 licly what satisfaction he had offered, and what reparation he had made 
 
62 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 for the insult. This, altliongli displaying honourable traits of feeling, 
 was yet a concession to the false notions of the age. 
 
 A little more experience, however, changed his views of duelling, and 
 in the laws which he wrote for his own army, it was classed among the 
 crimes to be punished with death. Many years after the event above 
 recorded, two officers having quarrelled, and having asked leave to be 
 relieved from the army regulations" about duelling, inviting the king at 
 the same time to be present at the " aifair of honour," were somewhat 
 astonished on arriving at the appointed place to find the king and all his 
 stafi" waiting for them. Their astonishment was increased on seeing the 
 public executioner take his place with the axe beside them. "Don't be 
 alarmed, gentlemen," said the king, "you have invited me to witness a 
 breach of the law which you and I have sworn to obey, and I have given 
 orders to the headsman that whoever strikes the first blow shall be im- 
 mediately beheaded." The duellists laid down their swords, and the 
 king retired, having thus publicly vindicated the majesty of the law. 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus was peculiarly happy in his choice of counsellors. 
 When a post was vacant, he adopted a plan, which has often been found 
 very efficacious in such circumstances, and which is yet somehow not 
 very popular. He went into his chamber, shut the door behind him, and 
 prayed to his Father in secret, expecting an answer. Very seldom indeed 
 w^as he disappointed. 
 
 Foremost on his list of counsellors was Oxenstiern, who combined the 
 offices of chancellor and field-marshal. He presided at the council in 
 which Gustavus Adolphus was proclaimed king, and on the decease of 
 his sovereign at the battle of Lutzen, he took the command of the army 
 and carried on the war. Of a singularly dignified and placid character, 
 he is said to have completely learned the mystery of casting his cares 
 upon One who had undertaken to care for him; and of God's ability and 
 willingness to do so he had so little doubt, that during a long career of 
 the utmost activity, the concerns of the nation only t^vice deprived him 
 of a night's sound sleep. Tlis advice was veiy influential in filling up 
 
ANBINSTKUCTION. 63 
 
 posts of trust; and the principle which he adopted was to ascertain that 
 the candidate for preferment was not only fitted for liis work hut was 
 also a man of piety. " lie that workcth deceit shall not dwell within 
 my house; he that telleth lies .shall not tarry in my siglit," or some other 
 expression from the hundred and first psalm, was, in the mouth of the 
 king and his prime minister, an evidence that the term of service of some 
 ofiicial was completed. 
 
 Gnstavus Horn, Hermann Wrangel, the two Bralies, the three Bauers, 
 Jacoh de la Gardie, and Torstenson, were among the most distinguished 
 foreigners whom Gustavus honoured with his favour. Piety, prudence, 
 integrit}-, and valour, were among the qualities which he sought and 
 found in them. Gentle as a child was the last individual, Leonard Tor- 
 stenson. He loved the society of simple earnest Christians, and his great 
 joy was, like the beloved disciple, to rest on his Master's bosom in sweet 
 communion with his God. By long imprisonment at one period of his 
 life, in a damp cell, his health had been injured, and be was subject to 
 excessive pain, but in the midst of the worst paroxysms he preserved a 
 placid countenance, saying, "It is the Lord! if I should give thanks for 
 all things, then surely for this, too, so I will give tlaanks till I forget m^^ 
 pain." No cloud of passiou ever crossed his brow, no unjust reproof was 
 administered, no meritorious act in the meanest of his dependents for- 
 gotten. When at the head of his troops, and about to engage in battle, 
 he used to uncover his head, and kneel on the green sward before the 
 ranks, pouring out an atiectionate prayer to the God of armies, till the 
 hardened cheek of the soldier would be wetted with a tear. When he 
 gave the command to charge, the torrent was irresistible ; and when the 
 lines of the enemy began to yield, his silvery voice was heard in the 
 thickest of the fight, crying, '-For the defence of pure and undefiled reli- 
 gion ! For the salvation of our souls and the souls of our children ! For 
 the word of God against popish bigotry !" Xone of bis charges was ever 
 known in such case to yield. The enemy are said to have been more 
 
64 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 dispirited by hearing that he had reached the camp, than if they had 
 been informed that a reinforcement of thousands of troops had arrived. 
 Alas ! for war. Alas ! that such noble spirits must exhaust their 
 strength on the battle-field. A popish power was then threatening to 
 deprive Germany of the Bible, and with it, of civil and political liberty. 
 Protestants had either to stand still and see the word of life torn from 
 their children, or they had to defend their rights on the battle-field. It 
 is terrible to he obliged to protect one's self from the midnight assassin, 
 and to have no other means of escape than by taking the assailant's life; 
 but more terrible by far is it to be obliged to contend for years against 
 those who would seize the Bible and hide it from present and coming 
 sreneratious. 
 
 St. i'iiul Inosing from fraas. 
 
 Acts xvi. 11. 
 
 The orb of day now hastens to his rest, 
 
 And paints with brightest hues the ocean's breast; 
 
 The ^gean glitters in his splendour bright, 
 
 And heaven's high arch reflects the golden light; 
 
 -The deepening shades from Ida's misty brow 
 
 Gently roll down upon fiiir Troy below; 
 
 The rocky shores of Samothracia rise 
 
 In gloomy outline 'gainst the western skies ; 
 
 While far across tie rippling waves, behold ! 
 
 The heights of Athos beam like burnished gold. 
 
 Full many a story this poetic shore 
 
 Could tell, of wondrous scenes in days of yore. 
 
 llcvengeful Greece was hero with victory crowned 
 
 When Priam's throne fell humbled to the ground. 
 
AXDINSTRUCTION. 65 
 
 Tbe blood of myi-iads djod tliat fertile plain, 
 And yonder stream rolled burdened witli the slain ; 
 While many a noble chief and warrior bravo 
 Beneath those placid waters found his grave. 
 The Persian monarch swept across that sea, 
 When in his pride he sought to chain the free ; 
 And from these walls the Macedonian sped, 
 Through distant climes his mighty name to spread, 
 AVhen nations bowed to his victorious sword, 
 Obeyed his laws, and owned him for their lord. 
 
 But downward rolls the sun, and darkness falls 
 
 On Troja's far-famed plains and ancient walls. 
 
 The night is come, and calls to sweet repose, 
 
 A." o'er the scene her mantle dark she throws : 
 
 The solemn night, that seems as though 'twas given 
 
 To calm the mind, and raise the soul to heaven 
 
 For man to cast away all thought of earth. 
 
 And contemplate that God who gave him birth. 
 
 The silver moon ascends the dark blue sky 
 
 And through the azure vault sails silently ; 
 
 As though she sought the blest abodes above. 
 
 And fled from scenes of vice, to purity and love. 
 
 Hushed is each sound, save where the evening breeze 
 
 Comes softly whispering through the forest trees ; 
 
 Or where the murmur sweet of waters near 
 
 Like distant music strikes the listening ear. 
 
 Few signs of life are seen ; the busy crowd 
 
 Has ceased its clamours and contentions loud; 
 
 In silence wrapt the noble city lies, 
 
 As though the king of terrors claimed it for his prize. 
 
 But see! where through the sombre veil of night 
 Yon glimmering taper sheds its feeble light. 
 
 5 
 
66 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 And as a beacon seems amid the gloom 
 
 To guide the wandering outcast from liis doom. 
 
 What hand has trimmed that flame ? what watchful fye 
 
 Guards it amid the dim obscurity ? 
 
 Who can it be, who thus when others steep 
 
 Their wearied bodies in ambrosial sleep, 
 
 Still shuns repose, and on his humble bed 
 
 Refuses yet to rest his wearied head ? 
 
 'Tis Paul, the champion of the cross, who there 
 
 Watches in holy thought and silent praj-er : 
 
 The servant chosen by the Saviour's hand 
 
 To bear salvation to each Gentile land. 
 
 He thus for coming dangers, toils, and cares, 
 
 Alone at midnight's mystic hour prepares; 
 
 He seeks for strength from Him whose sovereign will 
 
 The realms of heaven and earth alike fulfil ; 
 
 But who in wondrous love will condescend 
 
 To step to earth, a sinner to befriend. 
 
 Dead to all human cares and worldly things. 
 
 The Apostle communes with the King of kings. 
 
 Till in the east, the sentinels of night 
 
 Slowly begin to pale their beauteous light. 
 
 But as sweet sleep steals on with gentle tread. 
 
 And peaceful slumbers hover round his head, 
 
 And whilst perhaps he dreams of lands that lie 
 
 Bound fast by sin in loathsome slavery, 
 
 He hears a summons loudly to proclaim 
 
 Freedom and safety through the Saviour's name , 
 
 To preach salvation through each heathen shore 
 
 And on the blind celestial light to pour. 
 
 A vision strange before his wondering eyes 
 
 In the pale moonlight slowly seems to rise ; 
 
 A human form it takes, with lifted hands 
 
 Before the sleeper suppliant-like it stands. 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 67 
 
 The stranger'& figure shows, his raimout tells, 
 That in the plaius of Macodon he dwells ; 
 His ever-heaving breast, his trembling frame, 
 The deep emotions of his heart proclaim ; 
 An aspect strange and son'owful ho wears. 
 And on his brow the band of grief appears. 
 But hark ! he speaks in accents of despiir, 
 Forth from his parting lips he breathes a prayer; 
 "0 save! we perish', come, and prove a friend, 
 And in our misery thine assistance lend ; 
 Deep in the darkest shades of death wo lie, 
 And in the cruel grasp of sin we die j 
 Come over to us quickly, and impart 
 Sweet words of comfort to each aching heart." 
 'Tis thus he prays; a tear is in his eye, 
 And from his throbbing breast escapes a sigh. 
 Then slowly sinking from the apostle's sigbt. 
 The vision fades and mixes with the ni^iht. 
 
 Behold ! the morning breaks with tardy hand. 
 Rolling the veil of night from off the land ; 
 The first grey streaks in yonder eastern sky 
 Show that the king of light himself is nigh. 
 The morning mists, still hanging like a cloud. 
 The mountain tops in floating vapours shroud ; 
 They fill the spreading fields and valleys green. 
 And shed a cheerless aspect o'er the scene. 
 The city rises from her slumbers deep, 
 And slowly brushes off the spell of sleep. 
 The men of Troas to their toils awake. 
 And sounds of labour through the silence break, 
 Now comes the apostle forth with glad surprise 
 At the strange message sent him from the skies; 
 
68 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 The voice of Jcsas in that dream be heard, 
 And hastens to obey his gracious word. 
 Three faithful friends, resolved with him to share 
 Each grief and pain, with him each toil to bear, 
 Converse together with him, as he stands 
 With glistening eye upon the golden sands. 
 He views the heights of Europe, dimly seen 
 Across the glassy sea that rolls between. 
 Full well he knows the cloud of sin that lowers 
 In blackest darkness o'er those heathen shores; 
 He knows that myriads in that distant laud 
 Lie bound in chains by Satan's cruel hand. 
 To save tbem from their awful doom he yearns, 
 To give them life his faithful spirit burns; 
 He longs the might of Jesus' name to prove. 
 To tell the wondrous story of his love. 
 To break each bond, to set each captive free. 
 And humble Satan's power triumphantly. 
 Behold he kneels, and through the startled air 
 The accents sound of deep and earnest prayer. 
 Wafted along by zephyrs soft, that sweep 
 With gentle murmur o'er the placid deep; 
 Like heralds to those distant hills they fly. 
 Telling that succour and relief is nigh. 
 
 The day pours in : to catch the trembling gale 
 
 Yon feeble bark unfurls its snowy sail; 
 
 Onward she moves, and from her glittering side 
 
 Proudly she dashes the ai5sailing tide. 
 
 As though half conscious of her sacred load. 
 
 The ever faithful messengers of God. 
 
 And He whose boundless sovereignty can bind 
 
 The boisterous storm, and curb the raging wind. 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. 69 
 
 Sends gentle breezes from the gates of da}', 
 To guide his chosen servants on their way. 
 
 Thus hastes the apostle, cheerfully to tread 
 
 'Mid unknown scenes with gloomy horrors spread ; 
 
 To combat with the powers of sin he goes, 
 
 To grapple boldly with his Master's foes. 
 
 The still small voice that whispers in his ear, 
 
 Dispels each doubt, and drives away each fear; 
 
 He trusts the word of God, by faith his eye 
 
 Scans the dark pages of futurity. 
 
 He knows that soon the blissful hour will come 
 
 When the Kedeemor's voice shall call him home; 
 
 When Christ shall say, "The appointed race is run, 
 
 The combat's o'er, the prize of victory 's won : 
 
 Enter, ye blest, the heavenly realms on high. 
 
 And dwell amidst the glories of the sky." 
 
 E'en now from many a land is heard the cry, 
 
 "Come o'er and help us ere in sin we die;" 
 
 From many a spirit, panting to be free, 
 
 Bursts the loud wail of heartfelt misery. 
 
 Go forth, ye faithful few, and gladly bear 
 
 The blessings of the gospel message there ; 
 
 Salvation to each dying sinner give. 
 
 Bid him in faith behold the cross and live : 
 
 Till all the Saviour's gracious name shall know 
 
 And at his throne with grateful homage bow ; 
 
 Till all with one consent shall own him king. 
 
 And heaven's eternal arches with their praises rinw. 
 
70 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEliTAINMENT 
 
 ®lTt |!iuc(n'fr. 
 
 "And while he lingered, the men laid hold upon his hand; the Lord being merciful unto him." — 
 Gen. six. 16. 
 
 'HAT a description is contained in this chapter ! "What 
 a picture of nature — destitute, alas ! of nature's God ! 
 What a forcible delineation of a most important crisis 
 in patriarchal history ! but 0, how much more strik- 
 ing the description drawn of that more momentous 
 crisis that occurs once, at least, in the history of every 
 human mind — the great crisis of decision ! 
 
 The last hour of loveliness and serenity had dawned upon the cities 
 which were " as the garden of the Lord" for beauty. Nature's jioace was 
 at an end ; the long-suffering of the Lord had ceased to be salvation ; and 
 the missioned angels, whose retiring footsteps were to prove to the 
 victims of a divine and just indignation the very knell of doom, were 
 already standing on the threshold of the only habitation wherein dwelt 
 righteousness. And Lot was there — he to whom the message of mercy 
 had been sent. "Just Lot," whose soul was continually vexed by the 
 wickedness around him, to whom the impending fate of the plain had 
 been graciously made known — he was there, and lingered. Lingered ? 
 What ! could he linger, for whom alone the pent-up fire delayed to pour 
 forth its igneous deluge ? for whom alone the impatient earth still re- 
 mained quiescent under the very feet of the idolaters ? Could he linger ? 
 Yes. We are told "he yet lingered ;" and fatal indeed might have been 
 that one moment's dereliction ; momentous the consec[uences, and ruinous 
 the price, of that one "longing, lingering look" at his doomed j-et be- 
 loved Sodom, had not that irresolute hand been seized by those whoso 
 hearts, though tender, were not human, and who, though sympathizing 
 with his feelings, partook not of his weakness. 
 
A N D I X ? T R U C T I N . 71 
 
 Thus was lie " brouglit forth ; tlic Lord being merelfal unto him." 
 The cities of the phiin have long lain beneath the calm asplialtic 
 waters ; no trace remaining of the famed fertility of that once lovely 
 valley. Lot has been gathered to his fathers, no account having been 
 transmitted of his journey to the heavenly Zoar. But though his name 
 lias perished (save in sacred writ), his character has not. There are many- 
 Lots still resident in the plains of the world — many lingerers. May 
 their danger be as happily averted as his ! 
 
 There are some who, like Lot, find nothing congenial in Sodom, and 
 yet are reluctant to quit it. Tlieir guardian angel has long stood by 
 them ; but the links are strong that bind them to familiar scenes, and the 
 eye is still turned lovingly and regretfully to the sweet vale of Siddini. 
 Many, indeed, are their dangers. See that fair and favoured maiden, 
 bright and blooming in the noon of youth, with every promise of future 
 excellence already budding from the seeds of pious education and reli- 
 gious training. There are, in that soul, aspirations and desires that tliis 
 world's Sodom knows nothing of — an earnest longing to flee from the 
 avenging hurricane, from the " wrath to come." But her friends are all 
 in that heedless city; the home of her childhood, the scenes of her youth 
 are within its walls. "Escape to the mountain" seems a hard command; 
 the eye regretfully is turned upon the spots to be left for ever. She yet 
 lingers ! But, ere the moment for decision is for ever past, a hand is 
 stretched forth to the halting one. The hand of Providence kindl}- 
 severs some link, too strong for that weak spirit to break, and the hand 
 that brought Lot forth out of Sodom leads her by a way that she knew 
 not, to the everlasting hills, even to that "rock which is Christ;" "the 
 Lord being merciful unto her." 
 
 " When heaveu would kindly set us free, 
 And bid the enchantment end, 
 It takes the most effectual way, 
 And robs us of a friend." 
 
72 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 But this IS not the only instance. Approach that silent chamher — 
 draw near that sick-bed, where the vigour of youth and manhood, un- 
 aided by the weeping friends around, are combating alone, and ! how 
 vainly, the one great leveller, death ! Struck down in the heyday of 
 prosperity, life just opening around him, every pleasure shared by the 
 wife of his choice, every grief soothed by the innocent endearments of 
 his first-born — even thus, in the midst of hope came the summons, 
 " The Master is come, and callcth for thee !" Though surprised, he is 
 not unprepared. Death, though far from his expectations, has not been 
 ^\•hollJ' absent from his thoughts. 
 
 But life and love, ambition and fortune, were a vale of Siddim to him ; 
 and, amid these " cities of the plain" his righteous soul would soon have 
 ceased to vex itself with the sins of others. " Just Lot" would soon have 
 been "just" no more. But the Angel of the Covenant, who has hitherto 
 redeemed him from all evil, has entered his gates, now on a mission of 
 mercy, and already lays hold of that pale and languid hand. He lingers ! 
 The world is bright; domestic ties are strong; his wife and child, dear 
 as his own soul, are still inhabitants of the city he is called to quit ; the 
 mountain-path seems dark and steep; "the sun has not yet risen" on 
 that land, still robed by the shades of futurity. But the angel is there. 
 There is no hesitation in that celestial guide ; and by that hand which 
 has, unknown, led him all his life long, is he brought forth: "the 
 Lord being merciful unto him." The last breath drawn on that earth 
 whose very atmosphere is woe, dies in a sigh of mingled regret and 
 ecstaey. Friends may hang, in tearful grief, over what once was theirs; 
 but he is already far on his upward way. The tlesh lingers a while with 
 those it loved, and ever must love, but the spirit "lingers into life." 
 
ANDINSTRUCTION. T-S 
 
 Tlrc fining SfllHcr. 
 
 Amidst a heap of comrades, dead and dying, 
 That lay outstretched upon the parched ground, 
 
 A wounded soldier, weak with pain, was lying; 
 His bleeding bead was pillowed on a mound 
 
 Panting with thirst, his eye in death was glazing, 
 But no kind friend with angcl-hand was there j 
 
 On every side the flash of war was blazing. 
 And all unheeded was his muttered prayer. 
 
 And, as the crimson stream of life was welling. 
 His thoughts were wandering to his early years; 
 
 Swift as a rapid stream was memory telling 
 
 Once more his childhood life of smiles and tears. 
 
 llo thought of home, of friends, and one still dearer; 
 
 Iler name ho murmured, and although his heart 
 Slower and slower throbbed, as death drew nearjr, 
 
 Yet could he not witli her loved imago part. 
 
 He thought of days destroyed — of youth neglected — 
 Of passion's headlong course — of counsel spurned - 
 
 Of One whom his proud heart had long rejected, 
 To whom in dying ho would fain have turned. 
 
 But the pale moon now on that field was beaming, 
 Lighting with lustre many a death-pale brow, 
 
 And its sweet light in silvery rays was gleaming 
 On the dead soldier's face, all joyless now. 
 
71 - PORTFOLIO OF EXTEKTAIXMEXT 
 
 S'lu littU 31:hnHr;int. 
 
 f''^'^ify^ 'S the year 1510, a lonely orplian boy of eight years old, 
 ''-^vA who had no fricud or means of siiriport, went alono- the 
 
 Mim 
 
 high road leading to the city of Paris, -wearj', hungry, 
 
 /^i'^^l^r^ and hesifing a morsel of hlack bread, of which, when 
 
 j^^^iis^^—- the charitable added to it a scrap of cheese or a raw 
 
 :i^')\ ^ onion, he gladly made his repast. He was going to 
 
 Paris because he knew not where else to go ; wandering on, as the poor 
 
 and desolate often do, to the great and gay metropolis. 
 
 The child met a monk travelling tlie same way, with whom he joined 
 company. The monk probably found him an intelligent little com- 
 panion, and as they journeyed on he taught the boy the alphabet, and 
 even the art of forming letters into words. The key of knowledge was 
 thus presented to the poor little mendicant, and he soon made use of it. 
 How little did the good-natured monk think, that while the instructor's 
 name should be unheard of, that of the poor mendicant pupil should be 
 recorded centuries afterwards ! 
 
 On entering Paris the boy fell among the students of the university, 
 who were a rather riotous party ; and, as it was the hour of recreation, 
 they fancied little Pierre would prove a passive subject for their idle 
 sport. But some of them, seeing he was faint with hunger and fatigue, 
 interfered on his behalf, gave him some bread to eat, and made him up 
 a bed of straw on the ground wdiere they were amusing themselves. 
 Pierre desired no more than to be allowed to live thus in fellowship with 
 tlie students. An ardent desire to learn had been awakened in his 
 mind by the first lessons he had received, and the result of this second 
 accidental meeting was important to him also. He proposed to serve 
 them as an errand boy, or in any capacitj- he could, on condition that 
 they should give him some food and some of the learning they i:)Ossessed. 
 
A X D I X S T R r r T I X . (5 
 
 The ofler was accepted. TioiTe Lariimee — for t^nch was his family 
 name — received from the students some daily bread and some lessons. 
 'le had no lodging, hut slept on the straw or under an archway, and 
 served his young masters or learned all day. Not to die of hunger, and 
 to have the means of learning while he lived, was all the andiitiun of 
 little Pierre, the future doctor of the university of Paris, tliun aimed at. 
 
 This went on for a year; then there followed four years of Pierre's 
 life of which there is no account extant; but, at the end of that time, 
 we find the same poor boy, then nearly thirteen years of age, a servant 
 of the servants at the college of oSTavarre at Paris — -that college where 
 the famous king of Navarre, the liero of Protestantism in France, after- 
 wards Henry the Fourth, also studied. Pierre had to wait on the classes. 
 Thus he listened to the professors' instructions : he caught their lessons, 
 as it were, flying ; but they became fastened on a retentive brain. All 
 day long he worked as a servant, but in the evening he had books ; and 
 in a blank one he recorded niglitly the substance of the lessons he had 
 heard given by the masters. Thus he continued privately to follow the 
 regular course of instruction ; he studied as the students studied, but 
 with far greater zeal and more abundant success. 
 
 The young servant had filled many common copy-books with the 
 matter of the masters' lectures, when these copy-books fell into the 
 hands of one of the professors. He summoned tlie young man before 
 him ; and Pierre appeared, trembling at the fear of a dismissal. But 
 he had not neglected his duties for his studies, and had therefore no 
 cause for fear. The professor questioned him, and was astonished at 
 the amount of learning he had so secretly acquired, and at the uncom- 
 mon intelligence and talent that was unexpectedly brought to light. 
 The hitherto unnoticed hard-working servant told him all honestl}-, and 
 then begged to be allowed to undergo an examination, saying he could 
 feel by no means satisfied that his self-acquired learning would enable 
 him to sustain it. The professor, who experienced a lively interest in 
 the poor youtli, whose modesty appeared as great as his talents, con- 
 
70 PORTFOLIO OF K N T E R T A I N M F. X T 
 
 scuted to admit liiin to the examination ; and its results were so credit- 
 able to Pierre that be was afterwards desired to prepare Lis Thesis for 
 the public exhibition, his success in which would entitle him to the rank 
 of doctor. Pierre did so, and gained so much applause, that the hon- 
 ourable title was conferred upon him while he was j-et a young man. 
 
 Henceforward, tlie once wandering mendicant boy became noted as 
 one of the French savans of the age. Pieri'e Laraniee is known to 
 scholars as the learned Dr. Ramus, his family name having been Latin- 
 ized, after a fashion common to his age. Poor little Pierre has a claim 
 also on the sympathies of our readers ; for among the martyrs to Pro- 
 testant principles, who were slaughtered at the terrible massacre of St. 
 Bartholomew, was the young hero of our narrative. Does not his career 
 show what triumphs perseverance can win when in union with rightly- 
 directed ability ? 
 
 fk ^icfonnation — ^^'uthcr's uiiutn-filjc ^Ijcses \\:\M lo the Clmrdr tor. 
 
 time (1517-1518), you would have wondered at the 
 scenes of confusion and excitement which it often pre- 
 sented. "\^'as it a fair or a market? Judging from the 
 noise and jests of the busy people, and the crowd of 
 ':^0\ ^^ eager buyers, you would have called it a fair. Clusters 
 of people loiter about the jirincipal streets and in the outskirts of the 
 town, talking of some expected arrival, when lo ! a gaj' carriage enters, 
 escorted by three horsemen, well-mounted and in great state. At the 
 gates of the city the procession pauses, and a messenger is despatched to 
 the magistrate with this message, " The grace of God and the Holy 
 Father is at your gate." 
 

A \ D I N S T 11 U C T I U N . 77 
 
 Everything is ininicdiatoly in motion. Priests!, sclioolmastcrs, and 
 tradesmen with flags, meu and women, boj-s, girls, and Uttle chiUh'on, all 
 go forth to meet the strangers, with liglited tapers in their hands, ad- 
 vancing to the sound of music, whilst the hells of ever}- church ring out 
 their joyous peals. "A greater welcome," saj-s an old historian, "could 
 not have been given to God himself." And now the train moves for- 
 w-ards towards the principal church in the place. The pope's hull of 
 peace is borne in front on a velvet cushion, or cloth of gold, whilst a man 
 bearing a large wooden cross follows, amidst singing, pirayers, and the 
 smoke of incense. They enter the open doors, the cross is erected before 
 the altar, and the people gaze witli awe and curiosity. Many a burdened 
 heart among the crowd beats high with hope. The man who remembers 
 his theft looks to the wooden cross ; the evil-speaker, the angry and 
 malicious man, the covetous, the intemperate, are there ; and there is 
 hope for every one. And now a figure more imposing than the rest 
 appears. He wears the black garb of his order, and carries a red cross. 
 His form is tall and commanding, his voice deep and sonorous ; and as 
 the cross is elevated at the altar, he slowly ascends the pulpit. To 
 preach, of course ; and what think you is the subject of his sermon ? Men 
 are there with hearts oppressed and consciences laden with sin ; \^ill he 
 tell them of Jesus whose own words are, " Ho that believeth on me shall 
 never perish, but shall have everlasting life?" "Will he souud forth the 
 loving invitation, " Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest?" "Will he point, not to the cross &f 
 wood, in which is no value, but to the unseen, crucified, yet living 
 Saviour, who is exalted at God's right hand to be a Prince and Saviour, 
 to give repentance to his people and remission of sins ? 
 
 Alas! no; poor ignorant flock, they are as sheep without a shepherd. 
 I will tell you what Tetzel, the preacher, taught. " Indulgences," says 
 he, " are the most precious and sublime of God's gifts. The red ^ross 
 has as much cflicacy as the cross of Jesus Christ. Draw near, and I will 
 give you letters duly sealed, by which even the sins you hereafter commit 
 
7 S P R T r L I OF E N T E r, T A I ^' M F. X T 
 
 shall be all forgiven 3011. I would uot exchange my privileges for those 
 of St. Peter iu heaven, for I have saved more souls by my indulgences 
 than lie witli his sermons." 
 
 But more, the indulgences not only deliver the living, hut the dead. 
 Listen to the voices from the bottomless abyss — "AVe are enduring 
 horrible torment; a small alms will deliver us." A shudder here ran 
 through the assembly. Ilusbands thought of wives buried out of sight ; 
 fathers and mothers thought of children, and children of parents. Many 
 hearts were touched; for the poor Romanist has not the consolation 
 that the Protestant tastes who is bid to sorrow not as those without hope, 
 knowing that his believing loved ones sweetly sleep in Jesus. The 
 Romanist is taught that the soul after death is racked in all the torments 
 of purgatory, and that from this condition it is his duty, by prayer, pen- 
 ances, fasting, and almsgiving, to deliver him. 
 
 The appeal was not in vain ; and the moment the discourse was ended, 
 Tctzel descended from the imlpit, ran towards a strong box, and in sight 
 of all the people threw in a piece of silver with a loud sound. Confes- 
 sionals w'ere then prepared, and crowds pressed forward, not with con- 
 trite hearts to Jesus, but with money in their hands to the priest. Con- 
 fession ended, the faithful hastened to the vender of indulgences. Only 
 one was commissioned to sell. He had his counter close to the cross. 
 Very sharp was the glance lixed on each. lie examined their step, man- 
 ner, and dress, and inquired into every circumstance. For particular 
 sins, Tetzel, the salesman, had fixed prices, and the penitent dropped the 
 money into the box. 
 
 This monk was a man of notoriously bad character and great impu- 
 dence. At Magdeburg, on one occasion, he refused an indulgence to a 
 rich lady, unless she paid down a hundred florins. The lad}^ consulted 
 her own confessor. '■^God only gives us remission of sins," was his 
 answer. " He gives it freely, he does not sell it." " Such an adviser," 
 said Tetzel, on hearing of the speech, " deserves to be burnt alive." 
 
 At this time Luther was still a Papist, full of respect for the church and 
 
A .N' D I X S T R r C T I (i N . 79 
 
 for the Popo. "I was a monk and a patriot of the maddest — a true 
 Saul," he said ; but bis mind, partially enlightened, could not but revolt 
 at the tricks and imposition of the system of indulgences; and on one 
 occasion, when he received some confession at Wittembcrg, bo nseil 
 great plainness of speech on the subject. After bearing a long list of 
 crimes from some of the residents, Luther asked if they meant to forsake 
 their sins. "No," they replied, showing Tetzel's letters, "we have the 
 indulgence." "I have nothing to do with the paper," be said, "if j-ou 
 do not turn from sin, you will perish." Much alarmed, they ran back to 
 Tetzel, and told him the opinion of the Augustine monk. Tetzel of 
 course was very angry, and had recourse to threats. To strike the people 
 with terror, therefore, be ordered a large fire to be lighted in the grand 
 square, and declared that he bad orders from the Pope to burn any one 
 who opposed the sale of indulgences. 
 
 The reformation now began. The feast of All Saints was at hand, 
 and the church at Wittemberg was open for confession and indulgences. 
 I'ilgrims flocked there for the purpose, as well as to see the relics which, 
 encased in gold and silver, were set out to dazzle the peoj^le. On the 
 evening before the festival, Luther went boldly to the church, and with- 
 out telling any one of liis jilan, atfixed to the door ninety-five objections 
 to the doctrine of indulgence, and in this public manner professed the 
 doctrine of a free, gracious remission of sins. The work was indeed 
 begun, and must now go forward. 
 
 Many a pilgrim who came to Wittemberg for an indulgence, took 
 back witli bira some important truths. Maximilian, the Emperor of Ger- 
 many, read Luther's objections with admiration, and before a montli had 
 passed they had found their way to Eome, where even Pope Leo X., 
 tboiigb ho could not but be annoyed at their stern truths, overlooked 
 these in consideration of the talent they displayed. It was in vain tliat 
 the theses, as they were called, which were now publislied and widely 
 circulated, were burnt by the notorious Tetzel in public places ; the seed 
 was sown and began to take deep root. The Bishop of Brandenburg 
 
80 rORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 was very indignant with tlie Eefoi'mcr, and once, when seated L}- his fire- 
 side, he said, "I will not lay down my head in peace, until I have cast 
 Martin into the fire like this faggot." 
 
 And now came the question, which was to be the authority for Chris- 
 tians to follow — the CHURCH or the biele ? Luther, from the time that 
 he first sought the pages of the chained Bible at Erfurt, had declared for 
 the latter ; but at Rome the command had long gone forth that the church 
 was to be first obeyed. It is true that the church said, To understand 
 Scripture, the Spirit of God must open the understanding ; but its error 
 lay in pretending that the Spirit which God has promised to all who ask 
 it io Jesus's name, was or could be confined to- a feiv priests. " They 
 shall be all taught of God," saith God. 
 
 Luther having thus begun his mission, not content with declaring the 
 truth at Wittcmberg, prepared to go on a journey of evangelization. 
 At Heidelberg, to which town he travelled on foot, he was very bold in 
 declaring his opinion. You will see how he had left the doctrine of work 
 and human merit by these expressions, uttered there : " The law says, 
 'Do this:' and what it enjoins is never done. Grace says, 'Believe in 
 him,' and all is perfected." " The love of God finds nothing in man, 
 but creates in him what he loves. Man's love is the gift of his "Well- 
 Beloved." 
 
 On his return from Heidelberg he wrote to the Pope ; but the Emperor 
 Maximilian, alarmed at Luther's boldness, quite changed his opinion 
 about the Reformer, and entreated Loo to put an end to his proceedings, 
 promising to enforce his orders to the letter. Leo was roused, and a 
 court was held to judge the man who had broached these new doctrines. 
 Luther was at "Wittemberg when he received the summons to appear at 
 Rome in person within sixty daj-s. His friends were alarmed, and 
 Luther himself was troubled. His constant friend, Frederick the Elector, 
 however, refused him a safe-conduct thither, and the Pope's anger was 
 stirred. Letter succeeded letter; the matter was delaj-cd, and in the 
 meantime God sent his tried servant a friend in the good Melanchthon. 
 
A >: D I X S T K r C T I N . ' St 
 
 Their intimacy continued till death. ]\Ielanchthou, too, was a reformer, 
 and as remarkable for wisdonr and gentleness as Luther was for energy 
 and impetuosity. Luther gave vigour to Melauclithon, while Melanchthon 
 gave moderation to Luther ; and it was with the help of his dear friend 
 Philip that he began the translation of the Bible into his native language, 
 German. In this blessed occupation he sometimes forgot Rome and the 
 dangers that awaited him there. 
 
 The pope at length yielded to the request that he might appear for 
 trial at Augsbui'g, before the cardinal legate ; but even this concession 
 did not relieve the fears which his friends entertained for his safety. 
 Luther was too faithfuPand brave, however, to draw back. Poor and 
 unprotected as he was, he set out on foot to meet his enemies. On his 
 way through Weimar a friend said to him, " ^ly brotlier, you have 
 Italians to meet at Augsburg ; they will cast you into the tire." "^ly 
 dear friend," said Luther, gravely, "pray to our Lord God who is in 
 heaven for me and for his dear child Je<us, whose cause is mine, that he 
 may be favourable to him. If ho maintains his cause, mine is safe." 
 
 The interview that ensued was long, but Luther did not j'icld. The 
 Italians, expecting to see the poor German monk fall on his knees, were 
 surprised at his calm and honest firmness. " The pope has authority 
 over all things," said the legate. " Save the Scriptures," answered the 
 Reformer. " Retract," said De A'^io, " or prepare to endure the punish- 
 ment you deserve." But Luther would not retract. 
 
 God, in whose hands are the hearts of all men, took care of Lutlier 
 at this dangerous time, and after many threats and discussions he was 
 permitted to leave Augsburg without hindrance; and notwithstanding 
 the efforts of both pope and cardinals to get the Reformer into their 
 power at Rome, the Elector declined sending Luther away or expelling 
 him out of his territories. In the mean time Rome was in a ferment : 
 Luther must be silenced, or the power of the church was at an end. 
 6 
 
y2 PORTFOLIO OFENTEnTAIXMEKT 
 
 f'I]t Cnntcntcij pun. 
 
 [from the gekman or johan martin miller.] 
 Was frag Icli viel nach geld und gui f 
 
 Why need I strive or sigh for wealth ? 
 
 It is enough for me 
 That heaven has given me strength and health; 
 
 A spirit glad and free; 
 Grateful these blessings to receive, 
 I sing my hymn at morn and eve. 
 
 On some, what floods of riches flow ! 
 
 House, herds, and gold have they; 
 Yet life's best joys they never know, 
 
 But fret their hours away. 
 The more they have, they seek increase; 
 Complaints and cravings never cease. 
 
 A vale of tears this world they call, 
 
 To lue it seems so fair; 
 It countless pleasures hath for all. 
 
 And none denied a share. 
 The little birds on new fledged wing. 
 And insects revel in the spring. 
 
 For love of us, hills, woods, and plains. 
 
 In beauteous hues are clad ; 
 And birds sing far and near sweet strains. 
 
 Caught up by echoes glad. 
 "Else," sings the lark, "your task to ply;" 
 The nightingale sings "Itillaby." 
 
AND I X S T R I' C T I X . 
 
 And when the golden sun goes forth, 
 
 And all like gold appears ; 
 When bloom o'erspreads the glowing eartii, 
 
 And fields have ripening ears ; 
 I think these glories that I see, 
 My kind Creator made for me. 
 
 Then loud I thank the Lord above, 
 
 And say, in joyful mood, 
 Ilia love, indeed, is Father's love. 
 
 He wills to all men good. 
 Then let me ever grateful live, 
 Enjoying all he deigns to give. 
 
 83 
 
 ffuMngs of Jil^ii^t pro bi knee. 
 
 "I will bring the IjlinJ by a Wiiy they knew not."— Isaiah xUi. 16. 
 
 BOUT five-and-thirty years ago, a geiitlemau of 
 fortune, wlio had been brought up without anj^ re- 
 ligious advantages, one Sunday morning took his 
 ^V^") -walk in the fields near Chelsea, and as he walked, 
 *'-■"*'-, he thouglit thus within himself: — " What a happy 
 fellow I am ! I have an ample fortune, an affec- 
 tionate wife, and everything about me to make me 
 comfortable; and what makes it the more pleasing is, that I am not 
 indebted to any one for it; I have made it myself; it is all my own. I 
 am independent of every one ; it is all my own, and I may do what I 
 like with it. Many persons are under obligations here and there ; but I 
 am under obligations to no one for what I have, and I am finite free in 
 the disposal of it." 
 
84 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEHTAINJIENT 
 
 "Wliile tLiis riuuinatiiig, a summer sliowci' happening to fall, made it 
 necessary to seek shelter, and the only opening which presented itself 
 was a church (belonging to the Establishment), but he determined not 
 to go further than the porch, never having been in a place of worship 
 since he was married. A gentleman, however, sitting near the door, on 
 seeing him within the porch, came out of his jiew and invited him into 
 it ; and it was so politely done that he could not resist, especially as the 
 rain appeared likely to continue. The moment after he was seated, his 
 attention was attracted to the clergyman, the Rev. John Owen, who was 
 just pronouncing his text — " Ye ai-e not your own ; ye are bought with 
 a price." "AVhat!" thought he, "this is strange doctrine ; but it does 
 not apply to me ; I am my own, and all I have is miue." As Mr. Owen 
 proceeded, he brought new and strange things to his ears, and the gentle- 
 man retired with his mind deeply impressed. On reaching home, he 
 informed his wife what had occurred, and incpiired for a Bible, that he 
 might see whether there was not something to qualify the text, having 
 borne in mind the reference to it; but there was not a Bible in the 
 house, for neither himself, nor his wife, nor any one of the servants, 
 possessed one. 
 
 The impression made upon his mind was such as to induce him to 
 return to the church in the evening, and then that impression was 
 deepened. 
 
 The next morning he went out early, walked about till a bookseller's 
 shop was opened, and purchased a Bible ; and, returning, told his wife 
 it really was so ; there were the words, and the obligation was distinct 
 and unqualified. The next Sabbath she accompanied him to the church, 
 and the result was, under the Divine blessing, that after a short time 
 they both avowed themselves to be under obligations to the Eedeemer, 
 being bought with his blood ; they united themselves with that congre- 
 gation, and became exceedingly useful in promoting the cause of Christ. 
 
 To the preceding, we may add another very similar instance of the 
 wonder-working power of God. 
 
AXniNST RUCTION. 8/» 
 
 Mrs. Elliiit, who spent lier latter years in tlio Ectrcat founded l>y the 
 late Mr. lioljinson for ministers' widows, was the daughter of a trades- 
 man ill the city of Loudon, who regularly attended his parish church, 
 and had a' strong prejudice against Dissenters and Methodists, among 
 whom he included those who attended an evangelical ministry in the 
 Church of England — a pivjudieo which his daughter also imljibed. In 
 consequence of her falling into ill health, a lodging was taken for her 
 at Hackney. The good man and his wife with whom she lodged were 
 ver}' kind to her, and very soon invited her into their room to tlieir 
 family worship,* but she steadily refused, saying she belonged to the 
 Church of England, which they did not. She occasionally, however, 
 overheard the landlord in prayer, the partition being slight, and could 
 not help thinking he was a worthy man, though mistaken in forming 
 such precise notions as she conceived him to entertain. 
 
 One evening, when taking her walk, a shower came on suddenly, and 
 she ran for shelter to the porch of a cliapol, but determined not to go 
 beyond it. In liastening, however, being very weak, she over-exerted 
 herself, and was ready to sink, and would have done so, but that the 
 pew-opener, who was near the door, ran and supported her, and placed 
 her on a seat within the chapel. She felt unwilling to remain after the 
 shower had ceased, but the kindness of the pew-opener made her reluc- 
 tant to rise and leave the place, which would be observed by the people 
 sitting near; and, indeed, by the time the shower had well ended, she 
 had become interested in the sermon of the Rev. George Collison, which 
 appeared, so far as she could judge, to liave just commenced when she 
 entered. The etfect of that sermon, under God's blessing, was her con- 
 version. Her parents were at first greatly disappointed at finding what 
 had occurred ; but ascertaining that she was not the worse for her new 
 views of religion, indeed rather the better, they were induced to accom- 
 pany her to hear the minister who had been useful to her, and they also 
 became decidedly pious. Her health being restored, she took an active 
 part in the school for Jewish female children, supported by the Loudon 
 
86 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEKTAINMENT 
 
 Missionary Society, and shortly afterwards married a missionary, with 
 whom she proceeded to India, where she became a widow. After her 
 return, being in straitened circumstances, she was received into the 
 Eetreat, where she died a few years ago. 
 
 f-h Sowl-Iit i'^t. 
 
 The diamond may sparkle, 
 
 The ruby may sliine, 
 Witli light that may seem 
 
 To their owners divine; 
 But never can diamond, 
 
 Or ruby outvie. 
 In brilliance of lustre, 
 
 The soul-lit eye. 
 
 The eye hath a language, 
 
 Though voiceless it be. 
 That all may interpret — 
 
 To all it is free; 
 Convincing its eloquence, 
 
 Warm its appeals, 
 And swifter than thought 
 
 To the heart it steals. 
 
 How awful in hatred ! 
 
 How winning in love ! 
 Now fierce as the tiger, 
 
 Now mild as the dove; 
 All potent its glance is. 
 
 Where love has the sway — 
 In a moment we look 
 
 What an hour could not say ! 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 
 
 87 
 
 ClituU "^jroussflit. 
 
 IIE life of Clande Brousson forms ouo of the most 
 ;triking episodes in the aunals of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury ; the lessons it conveys ai-e fraught with the liveliest 
 interest, illustrating as they do both the spirit of perse- 
 _^ cution which presided over the councils of Louis XTV., 
 
 ^ and the unconquerable firmness of those Protestant 
 
 martyrs, whom the Lord strengthened to witness on behalf of his truth. 
 At the time when measures of violence had already been carried into 
 effect against the Huguenots ; when Louvois was organizing the " booted 
 mission," and Pelisson purchasing fictitious conversions or recantations 
 at so much a head ; there lived at Toulouse, in the south of France, a 
 barrister named Claude Brousson. Born in 1647, he had reached his 
 maturity, and by his character, liis piety, and his talents, had acquired 
 amongst the evangelical churches of the southern provinces an influence, 
 which soon became for the government a subject of serious alarm. As 
 thoroughly versed in divine as in human law, blending the learning of a 
 scholar with the piety of an apostle, he was no less conspicuous for the 
 inflexible firmness of his principles, than for the unruffled serenity of his 
 judgment. lie was capable of the noblest resolution and the most 
 ardent enthusiasm. As a barrister, he often pleaded the cause of the 
 churches in Languedoc and Guyenne before venal courts bent upon their 
 destruction, and the outbursts of his eloquence not unfrequently disturbed 
 for a while the conscience of some modern Felix. The last time he was 
 allowed to discharge his duties in a court of law, he appeared on behall" 
 of the church of Montauban. "Led on," says an historian, "by a fore- 
 boding that this would be his last chance of raising his voice in favour 
 of his brethren before the magistrates, he mixed up ^vith the defence of 
 the Montauban congregation that of fourteen others which had likewise 
 been prosecuted; and, pleading their cause as a lawyer and as a theo- 
 
88 p n T r L 1 of e n t e r t a i x m e x t 
 
 logian, ho wound up his address with an eloquent aud solemn apology, 
 which neither the bishops nor the archbishop of Toulouse were able to 
 stifle by their interruptions." 
 
 So extraordinary an act of courage could not remain unnoticed ; the 
 officers of Louis XlV. very wisely observed that it M'as quite useless to 
 forbid Protestant puljiit preaching, if rank heretics might hold forth 
 during the piublic sittings of a tribunal. M. Brousson was evidently a 
 dangerous character, a marked man, and efforts were made iu the first 
 instance to bring him into the bosom of the Eoman Catholic Church. 
 "Steadfast iu the faith," he withstood this trial; neither cajolings nor 
 menaces could pii-evail, and the position he assumed at Toulouse, as 
 president of the committee of the i^rosecuted churches, carried along with 
 it such weight, that after some time it was absolutely dangerous for him 
 to remain in France. He sought refuge at Lausanne. Here he might 
 have lived iu comfort and honour with his wife and son, practising as a 
 barrister, or acting as a sort of agent on behalf of the persecuted Hugue- 
 nots. In this latter capacity he had been warmly received at the court 
 of William, prince of Orange, and a subsequent journey had introduced 
 him to the notice of the king of Pi'ussia, who likewise treated him with 
 ever}' mark of respect and affection. 
 
 But the desolation of his brethren in France haunted Brousson day 
 and night; he fixnciod he heard their cries for help; destitute of spiritual 
 guides, tortured by the dragoons, and reduced to the bitterest extremities, 
 the forsaken flocks were ready to perish far from all the means of grace. 
 This was too much ; Brousson determined to undertake the dangerous 
 duties of an evangelical minister in the wilderness ; he cheerfully departed 
 alone from Lausanne, and having reached the scene of his stormy apos- 
 tolate, he received there ordination at the hands of two devoted men. 
 "I have several times protested," says he in a letter to Baville, "and do 
 it once more before God, whom I take for my witness, that neitlier 
 directly nor indirectly the command or the advice of any foreign power 
 has influenced my determination to retm'u to France ; but that I have 
 
A X D 1 N S T 11 U C T 1 \ . 80 
 
 done so, only at tlie call of my couscience and of tlie Spirit of God. 
 This call bad such a powerful effect upon me, and worked so forcibly 
 even upon my bodily constitution, tbat, after having put oft" for two or 
 three months the following- up of tliis inward vocation, I fell into an ill- 
 ness which appeared to every one to be fatal, and of which the physician 
 did not know the cause. But as I saw clearly that God would certainly 
 leave me to die, if I any longer resisted the movement of his Spirit which 
 called upon me to go and console his people, I started in the midst of my 
 weakness, without consulting iiesb and blood, and God restored my 
 health during the journey." 
 
 From this time forth, Claude Brousson's life oft'ers one uninterrupted 
 series of trials and sutierings which faith alone in Christ could enable 
 him to overcome. Let us try and represent to ourselves a man already 
 of declining years, of a delicate constitution, accustomed to a sedentary 
 life among his books and at his fireside ; let us fancy him entering upon 
 a career where fatigue, cold, heat, hunger, anxiety, helplessness, solitude, 
 and at last the rack or the scaffold, marked the various stages of the 
 journey. On one occasion he was tracked by the soldiers to a house 
 where he had taken refuge ; a long search was made for him, but in vain ; 
 he then left his hiding-place, and was walking to and fro in a room on 
 the ground-floor, when all at once he saw the town guard returning; 
 their suspicions had been confirmed, and they came to institute a more 
 careful search. Brousson had just time to crouch behind the door, the 
 slit of which allowed him to watch the movements of the dragoons. 
 Whilst they were examining every corner in the house, the scrjeant, who 
 liad remained before the outer door, asked some children whom he met 
 playing in the hall, whether they knew where the minister was. The 
 children did not answer; one of them, however, pointed with his finger 
 towards the dc-or of the room. Brousson deemed himself lost ; but, 
 through a singular interposition of Providence, the municipal officer did 
 not understand the sign, and went ort' with his men. Once more our 
 "evangelist in the wilderness" wae allowed to escape. 
 
fO PORTFOLIO OF EN TERTAIKJIEKT 
 
 In addition to such arduous labours, " beside those things that were 
 without," there was " that which came upon Broussou dailj', the care of 
 all the churches." He preached regularly three times a week, some- 
 times ever}' day, and even several times in one day; then there were 
 baptisms, marriages, and funerals ; besides copies of prayers, liturgical 
 formularies, rules of piety to be made out for the different congregations, 
 so that after his departure they might be able to continue their religious 
 services, without a pastor. The following extracts from his interesting 
 correspondence will show both the extent of his labours arid the power 
 of that faith which enabled him "to spend and be spent" in the Lord's 
 service. 
 
 "My heart was not happy whilst I was inactive; it is in the midst of 
 work that God gives me the liveliest sense of his grace and his love. 
 The work is so hard that it seems altogether insupportable, especially for 
 a constitution like mine ; but God shows his strength in my weakness, 
 so that by his grace, I enjoy robust and vigorous health." — May 10, 
 1696. 
 
 "I had to attend thirty-five assemblies for communion in one place 
 after the other; two of them of about four hundred communicants." — 
 Jan 5, 1696. 
 
 " I deliver three or four sermons a week. Every sei-vice lasts three or 
 four hours, besides three prayers every day, and, thank God, I feel better 
 than I did at the place I have left. I feel infinitely more happy than if 
 I were established in the first church of Holland." — Oct. 30, 1695. 
 
 " The consolations which God allows me to enjoy are infinitely higher 
 than I could express to you ; if you were yourselves witness of what is 
 going on, you would feel very great consolation." — Sept. 30, 1095. 
 
 Thus was Broussou enabled to be "joyful in all his tribulations," and, 
 by "giving himself wholly" to the edification of the Church of God, his 
 "profiting appeared unto all." 
 
 Long had the instruments of Louis XIV.'s tyi'anny endeavoured to 
 seize upon the intrepid preacher, and by putting him to death, to strike, 
 
A N D I N S T R r r T I O N . 91 
 
 as they Lelieved, a final l)Io\v at " the c-liurclies iu the wilderness." A 
 pi'ice of seven hundred louis-d'or was set on his head, and dragoons were 
 on the alert iu every direction. At last, iu Oct. 1698, he was arrested at 
 Tan, hrought to Montpellier, and, after a short trial, condemned to 
 death. His sentence was that he should first suffer the ordinary and 
 extraordinary tortures of the rack, then be broken alive on the wheel, 
 and, finally, ignorainiously gibbeted. The atrocity of such a verdict 
 must have seemed great indeed ; for the infamous Lamoignon do Baville, 
 who acted in those parts as the king's lieutenant, had the glory of exer- 
 cising towards the victim a sort of clemency which was still horrible 
 enough. Orders were given to the effect that the prisoner should bo 
 strangled on the gallows before being put on the wheel ; that he should only 
 be presented at the rack; that the hangman should leave him his clothes, 
 and not be allowed to touch him before he arrived at the scaffold ; and 
 tliat ho should be protected from the insults of the mob. 
 
 On the 4th of l^Tovember, Claude Brousson was led to the place of 
 execution ; he tried to address the people assembled there ; but the rolling 
 of eighteen drums covered his voice. A few days afterwards, the hang- 
 man was heard to say: "I have sent into eternity more than two hun- 
 dred convicts ; yet none ever made me tremble like M. Brousson. When 
 lie was presented at the rack, the commissioner and the judges were paler 
 and trembled more than he, who lifted up his eyes to heaven, praying 
 to God. I would have run away could I have done so, in order not to 
 put to death so excellent a man. If I dared speak, I might tell man}- 
 more things of him. He certainly died like a saint." 
 
 The catalogue of those noble champions " who have washed their robes 
 and made them white in the blood of the Lamb," contains many a bright 
 name; Claude Brousson was one of them. Whilst we read of his "faith 
 and labour of love," let us carefully examine ourselves and see whether, 
 being placed amidst similar circumstances, we would, as he did, " per- 
 severe unto the end." 
 
92 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 ^ game in th .§;ini>. 
 
 BY U. F. QOl'LU. 
 
 Alone I walked the ocean strand, 
 A pearly shell was in my hand, 
 I stooped and wrote upon the sand 
 
 My name — the year — the day. 
 As onward from the spot I passed. 
 One lingering look behind I cast; 
 A wave came rolling high and fust, 
 
 And washed my lines away. 
 
 And so, methought, 'twill shortly be 
 With every mark on earth from me; 
 A wave from dark oblivion's sea 
 
 Will sweep across the place 
 Where I have trod the sandy shore 
 Of Time, and been to be no more, 
 Of me, my day, the name I bore, 
 
 To leave nor track, nor trace. 
 
 And yet with Ilim who counts the sands, 
 And holds the waters in his hands, 
 I know a lasting record stands 
 
 Inscribed against my name; 
 Of all this mortal part has wrought, 
 Of all this thinking soul has thought, 
 And from those flGctinp; moments caught — 
 
 For glory or for shame. 
 
A N D I N S T R U C T I N . 93 
 
 fire Jl'"'^''] .§'f fiu. 
 
 BT rUCEBE OAKEY. 
 
 Dying, still slowly dying, 
 
 As the Lours of night rode by; 
 She had lain since the light of sunset 
 
 Was red on the evening sky, 
 'Till after the middle watches 
 
 As we softly near her trod, 
 When her soul from its prison fetters 
 
 Was loosed by the hand of God. 
 
 One moment her pale lips trembled 
 
 AVith the triumph she might not tell, 
 As the sight of her life immortal 
 
 On her spirit's vision fell ; 
 Then the look of rapture faded. 
 
 And the beautiful smile was faint, 
 As that in some ancient picture 
 
 On the face of a dying saint ! 
 
 And we felt in the lonesome midnight. 
 
 As we sat by the silent dead. 
 What a light on the path going downward 
 
 The feet of the righteous shed; 
 When wo thought how with faith unshrinking 
 
 She came to the Jordan's tide, 
 And taking the hand of the Saviour, 
 
 Went up on the heavenly side. 
 
94 PORTFOLIO OF EN TEK TAIN ME XT 
 
 AN ANECDOTK FOR MARINERS. 
 
 N the wild north coast of Connvall, and at one of 
 
 its wildest points, stand the remains of Tintagel 
 
 ,s, ';fj;24i^ castle. They consist of ruinous walls pierced by 
 
 Ml ,, ^J^fi^ small square apertures and arched entrances, remark- 
 ■•io^^^i^ ^^^ ^'^'■' ^^^^ ^vear and tear from the atmosphere 
 which the masonr}' exhibits, and their sombre ap- 
 pearance, the dark hue of the stones being unrelieved by the usual white 
 or yellow patchwork of lichens. Tintagel is the name of a grand head- 
 land of slate, which the action of the waves has converted into a penin- 
 sula, united to the coast by a narrow isthmus of perforated and broken 
 rocks. " The waters," said Job, " wear the stones," a remark which 
 occurs in connection with other evidences of natural mutability. But 
 his experience of the process was limited to it as produced by the pat- 
 tering rain and brawling brooks on the stony surface of Idumea. It is 
 only seen in striking and intense effect in maritime positions, and espe- 
 cially along an iron-bound coast like that of Cornwall, which is exposed 
 to the influence of tlie Atlantic drift. Tlje sea, deep towards the land, 
 and ever-heaving in long undulations, has worn the general base of the 
 clift's into a concave surface, while, in particular situations, promontories 
 have become peninsulas, and are in process of being changed into islands, 
 an effect which has transpired in several instances since the date of 
 authentic history. Deep caverns undermine the coast at various points, 
 which the fishermen approach in summer, when the water is smooth, 
 and explore with torches, intent on capturing the seals lying on ledges 
 in these gloomy retreats. Eocks entirely pierced with chasms are 
 numerous, and form the locally styled blow-holes of the neighbourhood 
 — the spray of the passing billows entering at one end and reissuing at 
 
A N D I X S T R U C T I X . 95 
 
 tlio otlicr, like a jet of stcain. ScH-ludcd nooks, in whicli tlio solitary 
 cliougli may occasionally be seen, invito to nioditation, while grand coin- 
 Iniiations of sea and sliore on every Land recall to the devout mind the 
 truth that " the sea is his, for he made it ; his hands also formed the dry 
 land." It is scarcely needful to add that, iu cases of shipwreck, in such 
 a district, the hapless crews have small chance of escaping a watery 
 grave. 
 
 The castle is supposed to date from the time of the ancient Britons. 
 Tradition commemorates it as the residence of king Arthur and his 
 iamous knights. It was abandoned to neglect iu the days of queen 
 Elizabeth. What, changes have transpired since the first stone was laid ! 
 Druidism, followed by Eoman paganism, Saxon idolatry, corrupted 
 Christianity, Romish superstition, and Protestant truth, are links in the 
 chain of religious events. A country divided into petty kingdoms, the 
 names of which were scarcely known across the channel, has become 
 the seat of a single monarchy, renowned to the far extremities of the 
 earth ; and a people whose handicraft only availed to procure them the 
 simplest necessities of existence in the rudest state, with hovels for halji- 
 tations and baskets for boats, has grown up into a powerful race, accom- 
 plished in the arts of civilization, unsurpassed for enterprise, enfranch- 
 ised with Christian knowledge and civil freedom, wbose sons have navi- 
 gated every ocean and are familiar with every shore. " The little one 
 has become a thousand; the small one a strong nation." 
 
 Tintagel church, on an exposed site, hard by the ruined castle, has in 
 its burj'ing-ground some tombstones commemorating a familj- of the name 
 of Arthur, as if to sustain the tradition referred to. But though very an- 
 cient, they are of course comparatively modern in their date. The cliurdi 
 had its peal of bells in the time of the later Plantagenets, the sound of 
 which was heard far and wide liy Tuariners at sea, or villagers along the 
 shore. To these bells, and to the period named, the incident refer.? 
 which we ai-e about to relate. Some three miles from the spot there is 
 another magnificent headland, that of AVillapark Point, with the church 
 
06 PORTFOLIO OF F X T E 11 T A I N M E X T 
 
 of Forrabiiiy adjoining the " distant" or " beautiful burying-place," the 
 tower of which has never echoed with the enlivening peal. This is the 
 parish church of Boscastle, a village at the head of an inlet, which takes 
 its name fi-om the baronial residence of the lords De Bottreaux, once its 
 proprietors, the site of whose mansion is now indicated by a green 
 mound. Upon the foundation of the church the inhabitants, to whom 
 the breeze liad often wafted the distant music of Tintagel, determined 
 to have a peal of their own. Lord De Bottreaux entered into the pro- 
 ject, and an order was sent to a founder in London to execute the work. 
 The bells were cast, and dispatched by sea to the place of their desti- 
 nation. The ship had a favourable voyage down, the channel, and 
 rounded the Land's End in safety. Off the headland of Tintagel, the 
 sound of its church bolls greeted the ears of those on board. The pilot, 
 a native of the district, caught the well-remembered tones with gladness, 
 as betokening a speedy return to his village, and piously thanked God 
 for the prospect of being at home that evening. "Mark the good ship 
 and the stout canvass," profanely exclaimed the captain, " thank God 
 ashore." "ISTay," said the pilot, "we should thank God at sea as well 
 as on land." "jSTot so," angrily replied the captain, "thank yourselves 
 and a fair wind." The pilot persisted in his line of remark, as did the 
 captain, the latter having recourse to oaths and blasphemy. During the 
 altercation the sliip passed on to the soaring headland of "Willapark, 
 upon which nianj^ inhabitants of the liamlet gathered, as soon as a 
 vessel in sight was rejiorted, the freight being expected. Meanwhile a 
 heavy bank of clouds, which had collected in the west, suddenly over- 
 spread the sk}', M'hile a furious wind arose and lashed the sea into 
 mountainous billows. The captain made every effort to enter the narrow 
 inlet forming the harbour of Boscastle, but the elements baffled his 
 seamanship. The craft became unmanageable, and being struck by a 
 tremendous wave, it capsized and foundered within a hundred yards of 
 the land. Thus the freight destined for the church went to the bottom 
 of the sea, and Forrabury remained a silent tower. None of the crew 
 
A X 1) INS T RUCTION. 
 
 07 
 
 escaped except tlie pilot, who gained the shore on a jDiece of the wreck, 
 and rehited his adventure with the captain. The spectators of the dis- 
 aster allirmed that as the ship went down they heard a clang-clang-chuig 
 from the bosom of the deep ; and many a year afterwards, when the 
 storm raged and the wind howled along the shore, the villagers fancied 
 they could catch, in pauses of the tempest, the solemn sound of bells 
 tolling from the abysses of the ocean. 
 
 Such incidents as those recorded above are fraught with warning and 
 instruction. Happily a merciful Providence does not often take man 
 immediately at his word, but sutlers long, even with presumptuous sin- 
 ners, to afford them time for repentance. But it has been otherwise ; it 
 may be so again ; nor can sin of any kind be committed and persisted 
 in, without sooner or later being visited with a righteous judgment. 
 Reverently should the command be kept in memory, and firmly bo it 
 impressed upon the heart and conscience of the reader, " Thou shalt not 
 tempt the Lord thy God.." 
 
 f lie Inst |i;igl)t m tMs (luToi'lb, or \k adlrccl! of ik Pfgasiis. 
 
 OTAVITIISTANDING all that modern science has 
 done to bring the remote near, and to render the 
 invisible visible, there are still many nooks and 
 corners in this land of ours which pass almost un- 
 heeded and unknown. The traveller to Scotland 
 may have had pointed out to him, as he has ap- 
 proached the border, the turrets of Bamborough castle, or the little 
 tongue of land which bears the name of Holy Island ; but few persons, 
 unless they be inhabitants of the vicinity, ever visit the spot. « 
 
 7 
 
98 rORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Yet many watering-places Lave risen into celebrity with far less pre- 
 tensions than this Bamborough. !N^owhere is to be found a purer air; 
 in no spot are the vegetation of the land and the waters of the sea in 
 closer embrace; no sands are wider, harder, or more spotless; and few 
 antiquities are more interesting than the castellated palace of the ancient 
 kings of Northumberland, or the various memorials of past times associ- 
 ated with Holy Island. 
 
 When, some little time ago, I visited this secluded town, I was pecu- 
 liarly impressed with the appearance of its churchyard. It was not 
 however that the church presented anj' uncommon features ; it was low, 
 unornameuted, and very small. But the graveyard commanded an 
 extensive view of the sea, in the direction of Holy Island, and one 
 particular part of it was occupied by the bodies of those who had perished 
 by shipwreck upon the dangerous coast. It was affecting to glance the 
 eye from the spot where they had died to that where they were now 
 lying (many of them without epitaph or even grave-stone) in the dust of 
 'death. Among those most easily distinguished are the remains of the 
 Eev. John Robb, of Dunkcld, who perished in the wreck of the Forfar- 
 shire steamer, off the Fearn islands, in 1838, and here also are deposited 
 the relics of one whose name is closely associated with that tragical 
 event — Grace Darling. 
 
 Among the few stones which characterize this spot is one which pecu- 
 liarly challenges the notice of the visitant as extremely different from 
 the others. It represents a shattered column of beautiful proportions, 
 and is strikingly emblematical of the memory it is intended to recall — 
 that of the late Rev. J. Morell Mackenzie of Glasgow. An experienced 
 eye can, from the place where his remains are deposited, discern the 
 minute spot in the midst of the sea which marks the existence of the 
 Goldstone rock — the scene of the shipwreck in which he perished. 
 
 The whole coast is extremely dangerous. The vicinity is volcanic ; 
 and masses of basaltic rock, hai'd and as sharp as iron, rise up in all 
 directions, sometimes into islands, such as the Fearn islands and others ; 
 
A N D I X ? T K r C T I X . 90 
 
 sometimes into reefs wliieli underlie tlie waves, and sometimes into single 
 projections, as tlie rock wliicli I have mentioned. Unhappily the direct 
 wa^' of entrance into the Firth-ot'-Fortli — the Fairway as it is called — 
 lies by this rock; and in fine weather vessels usually take the shorter 
 course. The Goldstoue rock is marked out by a buoy; but inattention 
 on the part of the steersman, or a dark uight, may lead to the most 
 calamitous consequences, as was proved on this occasion. 
 
 It is now somewhat more than eleven years since j\Ir. ifackcnzie, who 
 occupied a prominent place among the Christian body of Glasgow, took 
 leave of his wife at their temporary residence at Portobello, near Edin- 
 burgh, with the view of paying a visit to several beloved friends in 
 England. With characteristic kindness of heart he had largely equipped 
 himself for the journey with presents for those whose memories were so 
 dear, and from whom he had been separated for a considerable time. 
 Ilis first destination was Hull ; to which port he had taken a passage in 
 the steamer Pegasus. A friend had w^arned him that this vessel was not 
 considered perfectly seaworthy ; bat he had deliberately preferred it for 
 his voyage because it did not sail upon the Lord's day. The parting 
 between the husband and wife was unusually aiiecting; much more so 
 than the occasion seemed to warrant. A presentiment of danger hung 
 over both minds, and turned the separation into a calamity. At length, 
 Mr. Mackenzie violently tore himself away from the embraces of his 
 beloved companion. She was never to see him more ! 
 
 Seldom lias earth witnessed a combination of more talents and graces 
 than were conjoined in this extraordinary man. All who knew him pre- 
 dicted for him a distinguished career, of which the promise had been 
 already given in the highest university honours, and to the fulfilment of 
 which he was rapidly rising. His muscular tVanie truly represented his 
 masculine and noble nature. Ilis capacious brow spoke of the stores of 
 thought and learning and wit which were enthroned within. His dark 
 eye flashed with the fire of genius. In the variety of his accomplish- 
 ments, physical, social, and mental, he atibrded some notion of those 
 
100 PORTFOLIO OF EXTERTAIXMENT 
 
 which are said to have clustered in " The admirahle Crichton." lie had 
 attempted many things, and his attempts were always triumphs. Ilis 
 extraordinary attainments were associated with a most loving and gener- 
 ous nature, and were sanctified by a piety as profound as ever prostrated 
 a sinner at the footstool of his Creator. 
 
 The evening on which the Pegasus set sail was a summer one (July 
 19, 1843), and was peculiarly serene and beautiful. As the vessel steamed 
 down the Forth and passed the many objects of interest with which that 
 locality abounds, Mr. Mackenzie remained on deck; for the scenes of 
 nature were peculiarly congenial to his mind: and where is nature more 
 lovely? One of the passengers was a gentleman of imbecile mind, and 
 the principal account of the catastrophe is derived from the testimony of 
 his surviving attendant. Mr. Mackenzie is represented to have paid con- 
 siderable attention to this invalid, and to have paced the dock watching 
 the setting sun, and whistling tunes. As the night, which was fair, 
 though somewhat hazy at sea, darkened, he, when the vessel had reached 
 St. Abbs, had retired to his cabin ; where he appears to have occupied 
 himself during some time, in writing for the press, and then it is pro- 
 bable composed himself, half undressed, to rest. As his pocket Bible 
 was found detached, and not with the other books he had been consult- 
 ing, it is inferred that his last calm thoughts had been devoted to its 
 contents. Thus, in serenity he closed his eyes; when next they opened 
 it was at the summons — " Behold, the bridegroom comcth ; go ye out to 
 meet him !" 
 
 The circumstances of that night have never been satisfactorily eluci- 
 dated. Whether the captain was sober and daring, or whether he was 
 under influences which abated his vigilance, has never been perfectly 
 ascertained. It is enough to say that, just after midnight, whilst the 
 master was preparing to turn in for the night, and when the vessel was 
 proceeding at the rate of about seven knots an hour, she struck with 
 great violence upon the Goldstone — a rock which, as it was clearly 
 marked out, should never have been approached. The bows of the 
 
A X D I X S T R r C T I X. 101 
 
 vessel ^vere shattered liy the collision, and the sea poured in apace. 
 Baillie (the servant of the infirm gentleman, to whom we have already 
 referred) related, how, immediately after the vessel had struck, he ran 
 upon deck to ascertain the cause,, and immediately returned to seek his 
 invalid master, telling the passengers, as he came hack to the aft-cabin, 
 what had happened; though his sailor-phrase (for he had heen a seaman) 
 was not at first understood. When he came upon deck again, he found 
 the crew in the act of lowering the boats, though with the usual want of 
 success on such emergencies. One had just touched the water, and lieen 
 rapidly loaded, when the captain gave the order to reverse the engines ; 
 the boat was conserpiently upset, and some of the passengers perished. 
 The other boat, through unskilful handling, underwent a similar tate. 
 In the meantime the vessel was rapidly filling with water, and after 
 having proceeded about two hundred or three hundred yards, the water 
 had covered the cylinder and stopped all further progress. Little more 
 than a quarter of an hour elapsed between the time when the first alarm 
 was given and — eternity ! 
 
 "Who can describe the fearful consternation of the numerous passen- 
 gers at this awful crisis? The shrieks which arose as the vessel yielded 
 to the weight of the waters which poured into her, are described as 
 terrific. Signals of distress were liastily made, but in so hurried and 
 imperfect a manner as not to bo visible by those who were watching on 
 the shore. Though within sight of the land — the lights of which were 
 plainly visible — escape was felt to be impossible. "Good God !" said 
 the captain, " we are all going to the bottom !" 
 
 Manj- speculations have been formed as to wliat it might have been 
 possible to do in so portentous an emergency. Some have imagined that 
 the vessel would have been safe had it never been backed from oft' the 
 rock, on which, it is supposed, it would have rested. But it does not 
 clearly appear that it ever was on the rock at all 1 Others have deplored 
 that no one, acting as a leader at such a crisis, had proposed the con- 
 struction of a raft as a means of safety. Such fancies arc easily indulged 
 
102 PORTFOLIO OF FNTEF, TAINMFXT 
 
 at leisure, tliough a thousand coDtiiigencies might at the moment have 
 lirevented their operation ; and scarcely could the mind have awakened 
 from the sudden terror before all was too late. A few had presence of 
 mind enough to provide for their own safety; but these were exceptions. 
 Some were agonizingly inquiring of the master what was to be done, and 
 driven to despair l.)^' the hopelessness of his replies. Others, as the vessel 
 sank, climbed the mast, in the delusive expectation that they should sur- 
 mount the waves. A lady was seen on the companion ladder with two 
 children ; she calmly resigning herself into the hands of God, whilst the 
 little ones, suspecting no danger, were unconcernedly prattling about 
 some indifferent subject. One of the passengers, however, was conspicu- 
 ous above the rest for his unshrinking fortitude in the period of immi- 
 nent peril. That person was Mr. Mackenzie. 
 
 Roused fi'om his sleep by the alarm which had struck terror into so 
 many hearts, that servant of God had reached the deck, and had learned 
 by a question of the captain, the imminence of the dangei*. In the crisis, 
 no thought of his own safetj- was present to his mind. His muscular 
 strength, which had often been proved in the art of swimming, miglit 
 have suggested to him, as to others, efforts to escape. But such efforts 
 he does not appear to have even attempted. lie was a Christian of no 
 mean order; and as such, felt himself through Christ's mercy prepared 
 to die. lie was a minister of salvation ; and in this character felt the 
 instinct which might have prompted him to regard his own safety over- 
 borne by a compassionate concern for those who, like himself, were about 
 to be hurried, without warning, into the presence of God. His self-pos- 
 session and dignity at this moment were heroic — sublime! Ila^dng 
 ascertained from the captain the position in which the}' all stood, he was 
 heard to call to those who remained on the quarter deck — (the ship was 
 now fast sinking at the head) — that "as there was no hope of safety 
 they should engage in prayer." "lie then," continued Baillie, "began 
 to pray; the rest of the passengers kneeling around him" "He was as 
 cool and collected," pursued the narrator, "as I am now, and the others 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 103 
 
 were praying, but liis voice was IjcarJ above the rest. At thia lime 
 there was no shrieking or screaming." What burning ejaculations vere 
 uttered by the servant of God in that moment of anguish must be Icfl to 
 the imagination of the Christian heart to conceive ; the detail will never 
 be known till " the sea shall give up the dead that arc in it." AVhether, 
 after this, the human intercessor made any attempt for his own safety is 
 not known, though all appearances indicate the contrary. So died the 
 Christian minister — a hallowed and memorable death. ISTor is it incon- 
 ceivable that as he entered heaven he might bear with him thither some 
 one, rescued at that last hour from spiritual destruction, a trophy of the 
 divine grace which had saved him, yet who had never been won, but for 
 the noble agency of the instrument which pointed him to the crojs. 
 Certain it is that, even upon the hard hearts of the surviving sailors, this 
 affecting incident left an impression in favour of the reality of religion 
 never to be removed. 
 
 This M'as the last scene of the shipwreck. Immediately after it tlio 
 vessel went down headforemost till she was half under water, then sud- 
 -denly righted herself and sank. The suction of the disapjieai-ing ship 
 drew down with it many who never rose again. Others tloatcd once 
 more. For a moment the space was crowded with the bodies of the 
 passengers — shrieks mingling with praj-ers — till one by one all disap- 
 peared except two or three survivors, who wore found in the. morning 
 and who told the tale. The vessel sank in such deep water that even those 
 who had sought safety in the rigging, with two exceptions, were sub- 
 merged and perished. What became of Mr. Mackenzie none, for a long 
 time, knew. During several days some of his relatives resolutely clung 
 to the hope that he had escaped the catastrophe and woiild again appear. 
 For a considerable time the most anxious investigation was made respect- 
 ing those who had sutfered in the wreck, and each day afforded some 
 new evidence of the extent of the catastrophe. No fewer than sLxty-four 
 persons perished in this shipwreck. Among them were the captain, 
 stewardess, the greater part of the crew, and several privates of the fiJ'ty- 
 
104 PORTFOLIO OF E \ T E R T A I K M E X T 
 
 sixth regiment. One young man who was di'owned waa about to under- 
 take a new situation to which he had been just appointed at Leeds ; 
 anotlicr Avas a player of some popularity ; another was on his way to 
 become acquainted with the world before settling down into business for 
 life. The body of a young lady was found embracing in her arms, a 
 beautiful boy, in whom she had become interested on board the vessel. 
 There were discovered near the wreck the books in which Mr. ^Mackenzie 
 had read on his last evening, as well as the pocket Bible he had carried. 
 Among other articles recovered belonging to the same minister were a 
 pocket-handkerchief (the coincidence was singular) which had belonged 
 to a relative — an oflicer — and which had been taken from his dead 
 body at the battle of Waterloo, and a morning-gown which had been 
 given to Mr. Mackenzie by Mr. M'Clood — the giver having himself 
 perished in the wreck of the Forfarshire not far from the spot. The 
 writer saw at Bamborough castle some affecting remnants of the catas- 
 trophe — part of Mr. Mackenzie's personal apjiarel; some of the theatri- 
 cal appurtenances belonging to the player, the rouge he used, and the 
 haresfoot by which it was applied ; together with the watch which had 
 been the property of the captain, and which had stopped at the hour at 
 which the awful casualty had occurred. After long delay Mr. Mackenzie's 
 body was at length discovered, and it now rests in Bamborough church- 
 yard, awaiting there "the resurrection of the just," and the crown which 
 shall bo assigned to the faithful servant at that day. 
 
 It is not probably allotted to many of our readers to meet death in 
 the same sudden and fearful form as was exhibited in this incident. And 
 it is not unlikely that some of them, calculating upon the small propor- 
 tion in which such events stand to the mass of mortality, may be tempted 
 to exaggerate the improbability in a manner too favourable to them- 
 selves. Surely, however, in these days of constant and rapid locomotion, 
 when he who has not stirred far from his own fireside is both a curiosity 
 and an object of ridicule, it cannot be performing the part of an unneces- 
 sary alarmist to remind our travelling friends that, whilst precautions 
 
AND INSTKUCTION. 105 
 
 against accident are daily and wisely increasing, it may occur to tLcm, 
 ill their frequent peregrinations to he summoned to overleap, at almost a 
 moment's notice " the isthmus which separates the two eternities." At 
 any rate, who can he a loser by having permitted the thought of such a 
 possibility to cross his or licr mind ? In what position are we secure ? 
 In the railway carriage, or the steamer, abroad or at home, who is safe 
 except as he is "garrisoned" liy the protecting power of God? Even the 
 ^leep which we nightly desire is, as an old w^riter well says, " so like to 
 death that I dare not trust it without my prayers." To think of what 
 must be, to think of what mai/ he, is surely not the worst preparation for 
 that wliicli is. 
 
 Most strikingly' does this incident — more worthy of note than many 
 others of a similar kind — exhibit the value of Christian piety and self- 
 possession in moments of imminent danger. It is not often given to the 
 believer to "play the man" amidst sucli scenes of fearful distraction. Bat 
 when it is, happy is he who can enact the part assigned him ! Happy he 
 whose last words come out with unfaltering eft'ect ! Yet, let us not for- 
 get that this can only be expected from those whose Christian character 
 lias been genuine, simple and uniform. It is the Jiabit of piety which 
 can best stand the test of startling and unexpected emergencies. He 
 who would start up ready clad at the sound of the great Captain's voice, 
 must have accustomed himself to sleep in his armour ! 
 
 But by whatever process, and at whatever time, the reader may be 
 called — and ho must be called — to his great account, it is well that 
 he should profit by tlie improvement made of the event by the late Rev. 
 Dr. Wardlaw, in his funeral sermon. 
 
 "Had you been of the number of those who were on the wreck, with 
 death and eternity just before them, what would have been your state of 
 mind ? In this form of the question, possibly, you may be at a loss to 
 answer it. The suddenness and fearfulness of the circumstances — you 
 may reasonably allege — might have sliocked and shaken many a mind, 
 and thrown it for a time off its balance, respecting which it would tie 
 
106 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEKTAINMENT 
 
 verj' harsh and unjust to conchule, on that account, that it was destitute 
 of faith and piety, and in a state of unpreparedness for eternit}'. I shall 
 put the question, therefore, in another form. What is now the ground 
 of your hope ? What is now your state of preparation for eternity ? 
 You have not now the plea of sudden and distracting agitation. What 
 then, I repeat, is your hope and what your preparedness now! What- 
 ever they are now, thej' would have been then, whatever they are here, 
 thc3' would have been there * * * Examine — examine well — tha- 
 foundation on which you are building for eternity. Linger not in a 
 thoughtless indecision. Say not. By and b}-. Trust not to moments yet 
 to come. Corae the}- will, but you may be gone before them. * * * 
 Believe in Christ. Trust in Christ. Love Christ. Live to Christ. 
 Renounce self and sin and the world, and make Christ your all. Then 
 let death come to you how and when and where it may — slowly or 
 suddenly — by accident or disease — on land or on sea — all is safe — 
 safe for judgment, safe for eternity. To you to live having been Christ 
 — to you to die shall be gain." 
 
 ® It c .S a 1) b a t It m a U for gl a it , 
 
 Look yonder at the moadow fair, 
 See how the swallows frolic there; 
 Now wheeling round in airy ring, 
 And now away on rapid wing; 
 They never stop their merry play 
 Because it is the Sabbath day. 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 107 
 
 List to the lark, whose voice so shrill 
 Seems far and wide the air to fill ; 
 Observe him as he mounts on high, 
 And takes his miisic to the sky ; 
 'Tis not to welcome God's blest day 
 He sings his loud exulting lay. 
 
 The bee is out among the flowers, 
 Still toiling, as on week-day hours; 
 Exploring every leaf and bell. 
 And storing honey in its cell ; 
 No lighter load he bears away. 
 Because it is the Sabbath day. 
 
 Gay grasshoppers among the grass 
 Make meriy mu^io as we pass; 
 See how they skip and frisk along, 
 llesponsive to their own light song; 
 They never change their sonnet gay 
 To suit the solemn Sabbath day. 
 
 Man only makes a solemn pause. 
 In recognition of its laws ; 
 His tools of husbandry put by, 
 Unhandled in the furrows lie ; 
 His toiling hand now rests to pay 
 Due homage to this hallowed day. 
 
 For him the Sabbath was designed, 
 To him its benefits confined; 
 It comes with a fresh power to bless, 
 As wearied, on we forward press, 
 Inviting us with smiles to stay 
 And rest upon the Sabbath day. 
 
108 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 I r t ii n' i cli .J f r o u t) a u ii ,c i c 1 1) c n . 
 
 ^EW princes have acquired greater celebrity than Fred- 
 ^;-\f ^"^ ^1 crick II., kino; of Prussia, more <renerall\' known as 
 (\'*^=-l^^^*^ ' Frederick the Great. If he did not raise the country 
 ^\''0'(^1s» over which he reigned to tlie ranlv of one of the na- 
 ■^M^^r tions of Europe, he at least consolidated her strength, 
 
 ^^^^^ ciVvKi^ j^jj(j enabled her to take' that place which she now oc- 
 cupies as one of the " iive great powers." Of his religious character, 
 truth compels us to speak in very disparaging terms. Some German 
 writers are inclined to put this down to the mistakes of his carl^' train- 
 in<i-. "An austere education, pedantic instruction, and severe trials," 
 says one of them, "had given the character of Frederick II. an early 
 firmness and maturity, but at the same time had produced in him a 
 decided aversion to much that at that time was usual and highly respected, 
 and inclined him to the new French iihilosoph^-." Voltaire, and others 
 of the same class, stood high in his esteem, and enjoyed his friendship. 
 His love for making ludicrous applications of Holy Scripture was exces- 
 sive, as is proved by manj^ anecdotes related of him. It is said of 
 Naaman the Syrian, that he was " a great man with his master and hon- 
 ourable, a mighty man of valour;" but, sad drawback to his eartlily 
 prosperity, "he was a leper." Frederick acquired for himself, even 
 during life, high renown in the world's estimation, was successful in his 
 undertakings, was beloved by his subjects, for his rule was advantageous 
 and his reign was glorious ; but, alas ! greater stain on his otherwise 
 celebrated name — Frederick II. was an infidel. 
 
 It will naturally be supposed that a prince of such talents and power 
 on the one hand, and of such sentiments on the other, could assemble 
 around him many congenial spirits, whom he would influence in no 
 ordinary degree, and by whom he would iu his turn be influenced. Thus 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 109 
 
 tliG court and the king- often mutually encouraged and inflamed each 
 other, until religion became a laughing-stock, aud even the royal diuncr- 
 tahle was considered no unfit place for jests on the most sacred subjects. 
 But though the society of the Prussian court was at this period deeply 
 infected with the spirit of infidelit}', that God who, when his chosen 
 people were sunk in the lowest depths of sin, and when wicked kings 
 led the nation astray, raised up an Elijah to rebuke an Ahalj, and pre- 
 served for himself seven thousand who had not bowed the knee to the 
 image of Baal, left not himself without witnesses in Prussia ; witnesses, 
 too, wliose position in the country forced the most reckless and aban- 
 doned of the infidels to listen with I'espect to their words, and who, led 
 by the Spirit of God, feared not, even in the presence of the monarch 
 himself, to rebuke the enemies of the Almighty, obliging them to quail 
 before them, aud who, if they did not convince by their arguments or 
 persuade by their piety, closed the mouths of their opponents. Such au 
 one was General Ziethen. 
 
 Tliis officer was a great favourite of king Freileriek. lie had distin- 
 guished himself highly in the service of his country, and Frederick fully 
 appreciated his abilities and zeal, as the following auecdote will suffice 
 to show. Upon one occasion General Ziethen fell asleep at the royal 
 table. "Let him sleep," said the king, "he has watched long enough 
 for our safety." This speech does as much credit to Frederick himself 
 as to Ziethen, and we can only regret that he who could show so much 
 kindness to a deserving servant should think lightly of that greatest 
 exhibition of love which the Son of God displayed towards fidlcn man, 
 the giving of his life as a ransom for many. 
 
 "\Ve have said thus much as introductory to a scene which once took 
 place at the royal dirmer-table at Sans Souci, between the aged general 
 and the monarch. 
 
 It happened that General Ziethen was invited on Good Friday to dine 
 with the king. The pious old man, whose deliverance from many 
 dangers had probably deeply impressed his soul with a sense of God's 
 
110 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 mercy, and whose frequent deprivations of the ordiuances of religion 
 during the days of his active life had taught him their value, and who, 
 now tljat his battles were over, wished to spend the residue of his days 
 in preparing for his latter end, made a practice of receiving the sacra^ 
 ment of the Lord's Supper on Good Friday. Having so done, he passed 
 the rest of the day in pious contemplation, in which he was unwilling 
 to be interrupted or disturbed. Por this reason he declined the king's 
 invitation. 
 
 Some time after Ziethen dined at the royal tahle at Sans Souci. The 
 king joined in, or rather led, the wittj' and jovial conversation for which 
 the society of the palace was celebrated. In the height of his mirth, 
 Frederick suddenly turned round and addressed to Ziethen a flippant 
 question about the saci-amcnt, of which the general had partaken on 
 Good Friday. We do not repeat the question, for we think that the less 
 such speeches are known the better. Suffice it to say, the question was 
 of 'an impious character. A loud laugh burst from the gay company 
 which surrounded the table. Some laughed from courtiership ; some, 
 because they shared the irreligious sentiments of the king ; some, be- 
 cause others laughed. Ziethen alone was unmoved. lie shook his 
 hoary head, indeed a crown of glory, got up, and after bowing low to 
 to the king, addressed, in an unfaltering voice, the following words to 
 him: — 
 
 "Your majesty knows that in war I have never feared any danger, 
 and that whenever it was required I have resolutel}- risked my life for 
 j'ou and for the country. This feeling still animates me, and if it is of 
 any use, and you command it, I will willingly lay my head at your feet. 
 But there is One above us, who is more than you and I — more than all 
 men — the Saviour and Eedeemer of the world, who has dearly pur- 
 chased salvation for us with his blood. That holy Saviour I cannot 
 allow to be ridiculed ; for on him rests my faith, my trust, and my hope 
 in life and in death. In the strength of this faith your brave army has 
 courageously fought and conquered ; if your majesty undermine it, you 
 
ANDINSTRUCTIOX. Ill 
 
 undermine at the same time tlie welfare of the state. This is a true 
 saving indeed. May it please jour majesty to excuse my freedom." 
 
 A death-like silence pervaded the whole room. The king, -with evi- 
 dent emotion, offered to the honest old general his right hand, laid his 
 left on his shoulder, and spoke, deeply affected : " Happy Ziethen ! I 
 wish I could believe like you ; hold fast your faith. It shall be done no 
 more." 
 
 It was impossible after such an impressive sceue that the conversation 
 should flow in its ordinaiy channel. The king himself could find no 
 means of introducing any other topic. Although the dinner was but 
 half over, he rose from the table, and gave a sign of dismissal to the 
 guests. But to Ziethen he offered his hand, saying, " Come with me 
 into ray closet." 
 
 "What conversation took place between the king and the good old man 
 who had just rebuked him, lie who seeth in secret can alone know. Ko 
 one can read this anecdote without feeling how manfully Ziethen dis- 
 charged his duty to his God under most trying circumstances, and yet 
 how completely he preserved the respect which was due to his king. 
 He fulfilled the apostolic injunction, "Fear God: honour the king," iu 
 such a manner as to show others that these duties are not incompatible 
 with each other. 
 
 Nor must we refuse to Frederick the praise wliich is due to him. 
 Though his censor had not hesitated to rebuke liira in the presence of 
 his boon companions (and his conduct plainly shows that he felt it), he 
 exhibited not the slightest irritation or displeasure; nay, instead of visit- 
 ing Ziethen, as many a monarch would have done, with a reprimand at 
 the moment and expulsion from his palace for the future, he bestowed 
 on him the highest mark of respect in his power, by inviting him to his 
 private apartment, leaving to themselves his other guests, many of whom 
 were probably the companions of his hours of relaxation from the affairs 
 of state, or the sharers both of his studies and sentiments. And it is 
 gratifying to be able to add that Frederick's friendship to Ziethen re- 
 
112 PORTFOLIO OF E X T E R T A I X M E X T 
 
 mained unabated to the death of that veteran warrior, or rather sur^^ved 
 it. At a period subsequent to the occurrence just related, General Zic- 
 theu asked leave to appear at a review, though he had arrived at a great 
 age. The king not only granted the request, but voluntarily gave him 
 leave " to appear witiiout the incumbrance of a dress uniform," adding, 
 " should the weather pirove too cold, I conjure you to spare your health, 
 and rather not appear in the field, than subject yourself to an indisposition, 
 by a too ardent zeal for my service. After such long and glorious 
 services as you have performed, a'ou are well entitled to the riglits of a 
 Eomau veteran. This is the advice of your gracious king." "When the 
 king was informed of the death of Ziethen by the adjutant of his regi- 
 ment, he at first seemed much struck, but recollecting himself immedi- 
 ately, said, with much composure, "X have long expected this misfortune, 
 but I shall always regret that I did not see and converse with my dear 
 General Ziethen, tliat woi-thy and deserving man, before his death. His 
 regiment will find his loss irreparable. For my part, I lose a father and 
 a friend, but my successors will take care that his memory does not 
 perish in the country ; one who seiTcd it with so much honour deserves 
 to be remembered." A statue was afterwards erected to the memory of 
 Ziethen in the Wilhelm-platz at Berlin by king Frederick William II. 
 
 In conclusion, we would take this opportunity of urging upon our 
 readers the duty of confessing their God and Saviour before men — a 
 memorable instance of which it has been our object to bring before 
 them, showing that it can be done and how it should be done. It may 
 happen, however, that they may not meet with so generous a spirit as 
 that displayed by Frederick on this occasion. Let them not fear ; for 
 to the Saviour's command is attached the promise, that those who con- 
 fess him, he will also confess before his Father which is in heaven. 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 113 
 
 ^ HE paths of the Vaudois mountain missionaries lay of 
 "^-V 'x! ^ okl over some of tlio most romantic and classic ground 
 in the world — i)aths trodden by tlie conquerors of the 
 earth, and hallowed by apostolic feet. One of the 
 most poetic of the Vaudois historians * has graphically 
 described the route of the pilgrims, and the welcome 
 they met at each welhknown resting-place. Through their instrumen- 
 tality, the hidden ones of the Ltird were to be found on many an olive- 
 clad slope, beneath many a vine-embowered roof j on the Alpine snows, 
 and in the fertile glade ; nay, even in the marble palaces of Genoa, and 
 amid the seven hills of papal Rome, there were thousands who no longer 
 bowed the knee to Baal. 
 
 How like angels' visits must the annual arrival of these good men have 
 appeared ! " How beautiful on the mountains the feet of those that 
 brought glad tidings !" There were ph^-siciaus for the suffering body as 
 well as the sin-sick soul amongst them, as there was one beloved Luke 
 among the evangelists of Christ. The generality- of readers, we believe, 
 are not aware of the immense success which attended these early minis- 
 trations in the south ; it is best computed by the bitter cry which echoed 
 from ever^- part of the Roman hierarchy against the spread of gosj^el 
 truth, and the deep, deep curses invoked on the recipients, under each of 
 the opprobrious names by which they chose to designate them. 
 
 There is nowhere a more interesting account of their progress than that 
 furnished by one of a profession little honoured amongst us — the inquisi- 
 tor Reinerus Saceo. "We cannot, at the same time, but acknowledge our 
 obligation for what appears to us the very disinterested way in which he 
 has reported arguments that so irresistibly condemn his own creed. 
 * M. Muston. 
 
114 PORTFOLIO OF EXTERTAIXMENT 
 
 Our readers must Le aware that the colporteurs of those days had no 
 freight of printed and bound Bibles to bear from house to house ; all the 
 missionary' possessed was a few manuscript copies of part of the ISew 
 Testament, which he was obliged studiously to conceal, and furtively to 
 circulate ; since the discovery of such in his possession would have sub- 
 jected him to imprisonment, and probably to torture and death. 
 
 Another peculiarity' of these times must also be remembered in the 
 fact that there were not then, as now, markets and shops at which every 
 article of necessity and luxury could be procured. Shut up in their 
 castles or remote villages, the ladies of those days, as well as their domes- 
 tics and retainers, looked with impatience to the arrival of the travelling 
 pedler, M'hose pack generallj- contained the articles they most needed ; 
 and even when the annual stock of household luxuries, purchased at the 
 distant fairs of Franldbrt, Basle, Beauvais, or other largo towns, was 
 exhausted, the travelling merchant could supply them. But the inquisi- 
 tor shall tell his own story. 
 
 " They" (he is speaking of the Vaudois missionaries) " offer for sale to 
 people of quality, ornamental articles, such as rings and veils. After a 
 purchase has been made, if the pedler is asked, 'Have you anything 
 else?' he answers, 'I have jewels more precious than these things; I 
 would make you a present of them, if you would promise not to betray 
 me to the clergy.' Having been assured on this point, he says, 'I have 
 a pearl so brilliant that a man, by it, may learn to know God; I have 
 anotliei- so splendid that it kindles the love of God in the heart of him 
 who possesses it,' and so forth. He speaks of pearls metaphorically; then 
 he repeats some portion of Scripture with which he is familiar, such as 
 that of St. Luke, ' The angel Gabriel was sent,' etc., or the words of 
 Jesus Christ in John xiii., 'Before the feast,' etc. When he has suc- 
 ceeded in gaining the attention of his hearers, he passes on to that 
 passage in Matt, xxiii., and Mark xii., 'Woe unto you that devour 
 widows' houses,' etc. ; and when asked to whom these denunciations are 
 to be applied, he says, ' To the clergy and the religious orders.' Then 
 
AND INST TvUCTION. 115 
 
 the heretic compares the state of tlic Romish chnrcli wifli his own. 
 ' Your doctors,' he says, 'are ostentatious in tlicir dress and manners, 
 they love the highest scats at tahle ("Matt, xxiii.), and desire to be called 
 Masters (Rabbi) ; but we do not seek such masters.' And again, ' They 
 are unchaste ; but each one of us has his wife with whom we li\'e 
 chastely.' And again, 'They are rich and avaricious, to whom it is said, 
 Woe unto you, rich men, who have here their reward ; but as for us, we 
 are content if we have food and raiment.' And again, ' They tight, stir 
 up wars, kill and burn the poor; we, on the contrary, endure persecution 
 for righteousness' sake. Among them it is a rare thing to find a doctor 
 who knows literally three consecutive chapters of the ISTew Testament ; 
 but among us there is scarcely' a woman who does not know, as well as 
 every man, how to repeat the whole of the text in the vulgar tongue. 
 And. because Ave possess the true Christian faith, and all teach a pure 
 doctrine, and recommend a holy life, the Scribes and Pharisees persecute 
 us to death, even as they treated Christ himself,' etc. 
 
 "After this, or some such address, the heretic says to his hearer, 
 'Examine and consider which is the most perfect religion and the purest 
 faith, whether ours or that of the Romish church, and choose it, which- 
 ever it may be.' A person who gives credit to such discourse, who im- 
 bibes errors of this kind, and becomes their partisan and defender, 
 concealing the heretic in his house for many months, is initiated into all 
 that relates to their sect." 
 
 There is au interesting version of this incident from the pen of an 
 American poet, which we insert in further illustration of the touching 
 episode of the pcdler missionary. 
 
 "O lady fair, these silks of miuc 
 Are beautiful and rare ; 
 The richest web of the Indian loom, 
 'Wliich beauty's self might wear. 
 
116 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEhTAINMEXT 
 
 And these pearls are pure as tbine own fair neck, 
 With whose radiant light they vie ; 
 
 I have Lrought them with me a weary way; 
 Will my gentle lady buy?" 
 
 And the lady smiled on the worn old man, 
 
 Through the dark and clustering curls 
 That veiled her brow, as she bent to scan 
 
 His silk and glittering pearls; 
 And she placed the price in the old' man's hand, 
 
 And lightly turned away; 
 But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call; 
 
 "My gentle lady, stay. 
 
 Oh lady fair, I have yet a gem 
 
 Which purer lustre flings 
 Than the diamond's flash of the jewelled crown 
 
 On the lofty brow of kings; 
 A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, 
 
 Whose virtue shall not decay; 
 Whose light shall be as a spell to thee. 
 
 And a blessing on thy way !" 
 
 The lady glanced at the mirroring steel 
 
 Where her youthful form was seen ; 
 Where her eye shone clear and her dark locks waved 
 
 Their clasping pearls between ; 
 "Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth. 
 
 Thou traveller gray and old; 
 Then name the price of thy precious gem, 
 
 And my pages shall count thy gold." 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 
 
 Tie cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, 
 
 As a small and meagre book, 
 Unchased with gold or diamond gem 
 
 From his folding robe he took : 
 " Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, 
 
 May it prove as such to thee — 
 Nay, keep thy gold, I ask it not; 
 
 For the word of God is free." 
 
 The hoary traveller went his way, 
 
 But the gift he left behind, 
 Hath had its pure and perfect work 
 
 On that high-born maiden's mind; 
 And she hath turned from the pride of sin 
 
 To the lowliness of truth, 
 And given her contrite heart to God 
 
 In its beautiful hour of youth.* 
 
 Ill 
 
 fire ^iTfpIrcvlj li^iiL 
 
 N" a small scattered village in a lonely part of Scotlautl, 
 
 near the border land, -wliere the hills, although not high, 
 
 are wild and imposing, and where j'ou may travel for 
 
 many miles without seeing any living being except the 
 
 <»^^^iU^_^ scattered flocks and their shepherds, lived an old man 
 
 ''^?)\ ^^ called James Armstrong. Many a tale could he tell 
 
 (more wonderful, may be, than true) of the feats of his border ancestors ; 
 
 and often, by the peat fire, he would make the bright eye glisten, and the 
 
 * From "A short History of the Waldcnsian Cliurch in the Valleys of Piedmont." By 
 Jane Louisa Willyams. [See " The Waldenses," published by the Board.] 
 
118 PORTFOLIO OF ENTKKTAIXMFNT 
 
 younc; licart beat, as he recounted the noble deeds of the covenanting 
 forefathers, who, with all their mistakes, to which the best are liable, 
 were, in the main, true-hearted, God-fearing men, although driven to 
 extremities by the spirit of those iiery times. James Armstrong had 
 stout and hardy boys and strong barefooted girls, who could have shown 
 you many of the hiding-places of the Covenanters, and they shared in 
 their father's love for the memory of that band. These little Armstrongs 
 were trained in the love and fear of God, and were faithful in word and 
 deed, honest and kind ; and their parents were followers of the meek and 
 lowly One. 
 
 Every Sabbath the good mother was wont to lead her young tlock of 
 children to the house of God, the nearest kirk ; and how far, think you, 
 was that ? 
 
 I have heard children complain of a walk of half a mile; and some- 
 times heat, sometimes cold, sometimes rain, has been thought a sufRcient 
 excuse to keep them from a place of worship ; but the Armstrongs went 
 as far as four miles every week to offer up praise and prayer to their 
 Maker. True, the snow was often thick npon their path, the rain and 
 the bitter north wind many a time made the little ones cower and cling 
 to the good mother for shelter ; but God, who careth for the sparrows, 
 cared for them ; and the father and mother often remarked how happy 
 and peaceful were those journeys even amidst the raging tempest. 
 
 James Armstrong was a shepherd, and a poor man, but his tastes were 
 pimple and his wants few. He often said tliat this life was one of daily 
 lessons ; and when he lay watching his ilock on the mountain-side, or 
 led them to the stream in the valley, he was wont to recall the beautiful 
 words of him who spoke for himself as "the Good Shepherd," or to 
 repeat in his solitude those wonderful lines of David, " The Lord is my 
 shepherd, I shall not want." 
 
 Hardy had been the lowland shepherd's life ; but weakness, and grey 
 hairs, and old age, aye, and death too, must come to the strongest. The 
 firm step began to fail, and the strong voice to tremble, and the brain 
 
A N D I N S T II U C T I N . 110 
 
 now and tlieu to grow dizzy as lie came down the steep hill-side ; and 
 Janet, the loving wife, used to watch more anxiously than in old times, 
 if he did not return at the accustomed hour; for, as she said to Alick, 
 the eldest hoy, one day: "Love's eyes are keen, Alick. I know your 
 father is failing. I must take you from the school, my man, and you 
 must help to keep the sheep." 
 
 Alick, like many a Scotch boj", loved his books, and I am not sure that 
 he relislied the idea of keeping sheep. He was just thirteen, and he was 
 a bright, clever lad. Visions he might have had of being a great man 
 some day; at least the village schoolmaster had said he might be so. 
 But no, he must go and tend sheep and follow his father's calling. lie 
 wished from his heart that the elder ones were not girls, for now on him 
 fell all the weiglit of the service. " But wishing is of no use, Alick ; you 
 must just go with your father," said Janet, sadly, " and learn his waj's 
 •with the sheep." 
 
 "VYinter's frosts came on, and the old man (old before liis time) was 
 chilled more and more ; and one Sabbath morning he said to his wife, 
 "Janet, I canna go to the kirk to-day; I must e'en rest and keep my 
 Sabbath at hame. God can bless me here, for he kens my will is gude." 
 And he did keep his Sabbath at home. Ilis place was empty in the old 
 kirk, and Alick resolved from that hour to sacrifice his wishes to his 
 father's comfort. So at night he said, " Father, let me go out instead of 
 jon to-morrow. I think the sheep will be safe with me, and I will fold 
 them at night. I will be very careful, father." 
 
 The father shook his head ; but when morning came he was weak and 
 ill, and sent the lad to the fold with a sad and doubtful heart. It was a 
 bright cold day in March, and the work was dreary enough. A lick's 
 hands were pinched with cold, and the duties of a shepherd were not to 
 his taste. Winds blew as winds rarely do blow but among Scotch moun- 
 tains, and the sheep, instead of heeding his voice, fled away when he 
 spoke, for they knew him not. A strange dog too, belonging to a neigh- 
 bouring shepherd, came and scattered them, and it was of no use for 
 
120 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 poor Alick to hunt for Lis sheep, for he scai'coly knew cue from another. 
 At last he called in the help of an old shepherd on an opposite hill. His 
 dog it was that had broken in amongst the flock ; and by the time the 
 sun had set all were found but one. One was missing. 
 
 "How have you sped to-day, Aliek, my lad?" said his father, as the 
 bo}-, sad and tired,, returned to his home that night. 
 
 "Ill, very ill, father; the sheep would not hear me, nor follow me, nor 
 be driven by me; but as soon as I went near they all scampered away. 
 "What can be the reason, father? I tried all ways ; I coaxed, and scolded, 
 and whistled, and tried the pipe, but they would not hear me. Ah ! I 
 don't like shepherding, father, and the sheep, they seem to me stupid 
 kind of boasts. I don't like sheep." 
 
 "Aye, lad, you have told the secret now; you don't love the sheep. 
 Home is sweeter to you, Alick, than the hill-side, and the book and the 
 learning better still. You will not do for a shepherd's boy, that is plain. 
 Put listen now, Alick ; tins day upon the hills may teach thee a great 
 lesson ; naj', don't shake thy head, boy — I will not send thee again — 
 but listen to the lesson for all that. Who was it that left his home of 
 holiness above, to come and fold his sheep — worse sheep than thine, 
 Alick, and wandering further too?" 
 
 The boy bowed his head and whispered, "Jesus." 
 
 " Aye, Jesus, my lad. Is thy book dearer to thee, thiukest thou, than 
 the praises of angels and the love of the Father, in the joy of which Jesus 
 had lived from before the beginning of the world?" 
 
 "No, father," was Alick's answer. 
 
 "Was your heart full of love to the poor, helpless, erring things when, 
 as you said, you called, coaxed, and shouted ? And when the dog came, 
 didst thou ward him off", face him, and take up thy crook?" 
 
 "Nay, father, I ran away." 
 
 "Ah ! Alick, when Satan tempted Jesus, he, for the sake of his sheep, 
 fainted not. When ho was loft alone and all his disciples fled, he, for- 
 saken as ho was, prayed in an agony for his sheei), his children, whom 
 
AND I X S T R U C T I X . 121 
 
 lie liad conic to save. And at last, when wicked men laid hands upon 
 him, he meekly gave up his life. Ko man took it from him, for he had 
 power to take it again; hut ho died to save his sheep. Wilt thoii not 
 love Jesus Christ? wilt thou not follow him as the Good Shcplicrd?" 
 
 The hoy was melted, and hy his hed-side that night he did pray to bo 
 guided by Ilira alone. 
 
 At five o'clock the next morning ho was dressed and reading his little 
 Bible by the faint light of a rush candle. At six he was on his way to 
 the fold. The seed fell on good ground. Alick was from that day a 
 hoy of prayer and faith. If a shepherd's life were not quite to his taste, 
 he remembered that the Good Shepherd pleased not himself, and he did 
 not repine. 
 
 It was a May evening, bright and lovely ; the storms wore all hushed, 
 the young Iambs were bleating, and, remembering the Scripture words, 
 and his father's example, of tending the weak and little ones of the tlock, 
 Alick had carried one sickly lamb, whose mother had died, to his home, 
 tliero to bo nursed and carod for. As he bore it in his bosom, he softly 
 murmured those words in the silence of the blue hills, "He shall carry 
 the lambs iu his arms." 
 
 When he opened the cottage door, the kitchen was emptj- ; but for 
 the presence of the two j-ounger children, there was a solemn hush iu 
 the house. The mother's seat was cmpt}-, and one of the little girls said, 
 in a solemn voice, "Father's worse." 
 
 It was the work of a moment to lay the lamb on the Ijcarth, and to 
 rush into the sick room. It was a dying room. Long had Jamie Arm- 
 strong's song been, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want;" and 
 now in the hour of death, as his son stood by his bed-side, he heard him 
 whisper, "When I pass through the valley of the shadow of death, I will 
 fear no evil, for thou art witli me." 
 
 He opened his eyes when Alick took his cold hand, and said, "Follow 
 the Good Shepherd, my lad; he has given his life for the sheep, and still 
 liveth for them." And so ho died. 
 
122 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Alick never left liis mountaiti life; and day by daj', as lie tended his 
 flock, he remembered the first great lesson of love to the Saviour, and 
 now loves to lead other wandering sheep into the fold, and to tell the 
 story of the Good Shepherd. 
 
 p, all ye that labour, and arc heavy ladon, and I will give you rest." — Matt. xi. 28. 
 
 And I will give you rest ! 
 The gracious Saviour to my weary soul 
 Doth promise rest — for wliich I've sought in rain. 
 I've tried the world, it's promi.ses are false; 
 Riches mny nialce them wings and flee away; 
 But thou, my 8aviour, full of grace and truth, 
 Almighty aud all-merciful to save. 
 Thy love alone this aching void can fill. 
 
 And I xcifl give you rest ! 
 Then, Lord, thy promise I can never doubt; 
 For all thy words are sure, and my tried soul 
 Will rest on this' assured hope, and fix 
 My trust, my joy, my confidence in thee. 
 For heaven and earth may pass away, nor yet 
 One jot or tittle of thy sovereign will 
 Shall pass away, till all shall be fulfilled. 
 
 And I will give you rest ! 
 Then, Lord, I come, though in my hand I bear 
 No price to buy, no merit to deserve. 
 How rich the gift, unmerited as free, 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 12? 
 
 So rich that all the worlJ doth not eontaiu 
 Treasure enough to purchase such a gift, 
 So undeserved, that my poor sinful soul 
 Is lost in wonder, gratitude and love. 
 
 And I will give you rest ! 
 Thou knowest, Lord, how much that rest I need; 
 How luy poor soul is weary with the strife 
 Of sins within, temptations from without, 
 Whose fierce contention none but thou canst quell. 
 And is this promise mine ? and can I hope 
 That one so vile and sinful as I am, 
 May claim this precious promise as my own ? 
 
 And I will give you rest I 
 No more shall gloomy doubts beset my mind; 
 No longer will I seek from carnal things 
 That peace and joy the world can never give. 
 To thee alone, my Saviour, will I look; 
 Receive my heart, unworthy though it be; 
 This only sacrifice I dare to bring; 
 Take it ! Lord, and seal it for thine own. 
 
124 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 'TaliittlTing for tire l^hrning. 
 
 MISSIONS IN SEW ZEALAND AND EAST AFRICA. 
 
 '^^S!^^ ye into all tlic world, and preach the gospel 
 to every creature." Here is the base of that dif- 
 
 mi) 
 
 ^ ' fusive chanty which is the life of missions to the 
 
 Ib^V-X^^JjM^ heathen. The command would have sufficed to 
 :^^^i^^^^c|^^ point the path of duty, irrespective of results. 
 / /('^ '■ But we have also tlnit hlessed promise wliich in- 
 vests us with the highest privilege, as " fellow-workers with God." "Lo, 
 I am with you ahvay, unto the end of the world." Aud it is worth 
 noting, that the promise is confirmed by an " amen." 
 
 How instructive the experience of those who have gone out in obedi- 
 ence to the command ! The evidence of the Saviour's promised presence 
 has often been long withheld ; the messenger has " waited for the Lord 
 more than they that watch for the morning." And yet the presence has 
 been surely there, if only to give the needful "patience of hope." At 
 last, also, though perhaps tardily to our poor apprehension, the morning 
 has come, and joy with it, however weeping may have been the portion 
 of the night. Take an instance. 
 
 The first missionaries reached New Zealand in 1814. For manyj-ears 
 they lived, securely indeed, but ridiculed and sorely tried, in the midst 
 of savage cannibals They sowed the seed, but it seemed to be trodden 
 under-foot. Unlike the labourer in natural husbandry, who is cpiickly 
 cheered by the up-springing of the blade, these spiritual husbandmen 
 saw only the seed's decay. It "died, and gave no sign." So at least it 
 seemed. But the bread was "found after many dajs" — bread indeed, 
 almost without any appearance of the intermediate corn. The mission- 
 ar}', Henry Williams, was compelled to write in March, 1825 : " The 
 
A N D I N S T R U C T I N . 125 
 
 natives are as dead and insensible to tlie necessity of redemption as tlio 
 very brutes. On Sunday we asked a diief why tlie people did not 
 attend, as they knew we were coming. lie replied, they did not care 
 about such things : all they thought of was eating and drinking and 
 fighting. He had told them, but they would not come : if we had come 
 to talk about anything else, or to trade, we should have had numbers. 
 Speaking on the work of redemption, they said they could not under- 
 stand it ; and immediately retired into their dark abodes, utterly regard- 
 less of what was said. The dominion of Satan was never more visible 
 to me, and that this great work can be accomplished only by the divine 
 power." 
 
 That power was about to bo put forth. As just before the dawn of 
 the natural morning the gloom is deepest, so in 'New Zealand the spirit- 
 ual darkness just described heralded the first streak of heavenly light. 
 Six months later, on the 10th of September, Mr. Williams wrote : — 
 
 " The natives are now urgent for our visits on the Sabbath, and pro- 
 fess to abstain from work on that day. We trust, too, that a breach has 
 been accomplished in the stronghold of the great enemy of souls, by the 
 arm of the Lord of Hosts. One foundation stone is removed, and more 
 are loosened around. There are many circumstances which combine to 
 strengthen our hopes that the glorious rising of the Sun of righteous- 
 ness will soon be seen in this land." 
 
 And now as to the '■'■foundation stone" that had been " removed." For 
 a year and a half the missionaries had visited on Sundays an old chief 
 named Rangi. The old man used to hoist a red cloth flag as a signal to 
 his people that " the sacred day" had come round. In Julj^, 1825, he 
 became ill. " What are j'our thoughts of death ?" he was asked. "My 
 thoughts are continually in heaven. In the morning, in the daytime, 
 and at night, they are continually there. My belief is in the great God 
 and in Jesus Christ." 
 
 The missionary asked if he was never tempted to doubt. lie con- 
 fessed that he was so tempted. The issue, however, could not be doubt- 
 
12C rORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAIN ME XT 
 
 fill, fur lie added : " I pray several times in tlie day. I ask God to give 
 me Lis Spirit in my lieart, to dwell there." In August baptism was 
 liinted to him. "Attend now to what I am going to say to you. The 
 people who believe in Jesus Christ ai-e called after him, Christians ; but 
 those who do not believe are called heathen. Those who believe, take 
 Jesus Christ's name as a sign that their hearts are washed in his blood." 
 The old chief appeared much pleased, and wished to be called after Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 On the 14th of September it was reported to the missionaries that poor 
 Rangi was dead. On immediately proceeding to his hut, however, lie 
 was found to be still alive, though it was clear he could not live long. 
 In a faint voice he took part in the following precious and touching 
 dialogue. 
 
 "Well, friend, how do you find yourself?" 
 
 "I shall soon be dead." 
 
 " What are your thoughts of heaven ?" 
 
 " Oh, my heart is very, very full of light." 
 
 " What makes your heart so very full of light ?" 
 
 "Because of my belief in Jehovah and Jesus Christ." 
 
 "And are you still firm in your belief in Jesus Christ?" 
 
 "Have I not told you, over and over again, that my belief is stead- 
 fiast?" 
 
 "Have yon no fear of death before you?" 
 
 "No, none — not in the least." 
 
 "We are happy to find that. All real believers rejoice in the pros- 
 pect of death, knowing that their pains are all then ended." 
 
 "Aj-e ! I shall go and sit above the sky with Jesus Christ." 
 
 "Have you forgotten what was told you, some time since, respecting 
 the name which is given to all those who believe in Jesus Christ?" 
 
 " I have forgotten the name, but I have not forgotten the circumstance. 
 It is fast in my heart." 
 
 "How should you like to be called bv that name?" 
 
AND I X S T K U C T I N . 127 
 
 "I sliouki like it veiT much indeed." 
 
 The four missionaries who were present now consulted whether Rangi 
 was not a fit subject for baptism. "We had observed him," they say, 
 " for many months, and had watched his behaviour and character. Each 
 gave it as his opinion that more satisfactory evidence could not be ex- 
 pected in the early state of things here. His steadfastness on the verge 
 of the grave, and his firm resistance of all the native superstitious pecu- 
 liar to his present situation, satisfied us that he ought to be baptized." 
 We think our readers will be abundantly satisfied too. One cannot 
 blame the missionaries for very great anxiety that the first 'New Zealand 
 convert might be a genuine one ; but there is a possibility of erring in 
 this matter on the side of too much caution. Intelligent profession 
 must satisfy us. We need to be careful lest we seem to usurp the func- 
 tions of Him who alone is the Searcher of hearts. 
 
 And so Raugi was admitted into the visible church by the name of 
 " Christian," which he repeated several times with energy. The next 
 night he died. 
 
 "Watching for the morning" from 1814 to 1825 ! What is Kew Zea- 
 land now? On the 2Gth of May, 1854, Sir George Grey, the late gov- 
 ernor, said: "Out of the native population, estimated by himself at 
 nearly one hundred thousand, there were not more than one thousand 
 who did not make a profession of Christianity." The dawn has in- 
 creased almost " unto the perfect day." To the Light of Life be all the 
 praise ! 
 
 Turn we now to the eastern coast of Africa. The Church Missionary 
 Society has a station there — the fruit of much travail, and therefore, 
 perhaps, an object of the more aflectionate solicitude. In November, 
 1837, the Rev. John L. Krapf joined the society's mission in Abyssinia. 
 One of his last adventures tliere was his imprisonment by a treacherous 
 Galla chief: his life, however, which there is reason to think was in no 
 little danger, was mercifully preserved. 
 
 But the Abyssinian mission drew towards a premature close. In Sep- 
 
VIS PORTFOLIO OF E N T E K T A I N M E KT 
 
 tember, 1842, there was a meeting at Alexautli-ia of the three mission- 
 arieis, Krapf, Iseuberg, and Muhleisen, who now proposed — Krapf 
 Laving just married — to re-euter Abyssinia after a term of absence. 
 They were eventually unable to do so, the king of Shoa refusing his 
 permission. 
 
 The first germ of the East Africa mission now appears. Erapf went 
 to Aden, on his way to Zanzibar, in tlie hope of reaching the Gallas 
 from thence. Arriving at Aden, in April, 1843, he found he could not 
 leave for Zanzibar until October. The interval was spent in a missionary 
 journey to Massowah. On their way, they had a foretaste of the afilic- 
 tions that awaited them. They had pitched their tent at a place called 
 Mashen, having for their companions only the noisy Shoho people. 
 Here Mrs. Krapf was confined, the child living only an hour — "where- 
 fore," says Krapf, "we called its name Eneba, the Amharic for 'Tear.' 
 It shall remind us of our whole tearful course of life since we left Egypt. 
 With heartfelt pain we buried the child in the evening, under a tree in 
 the vicinity of our tent." Three days afterwards they left the place. 
 "It will always be," Krapf adds, "an Ebenezer to us. Truly the Lord 
 is a faithful God, who will never leave nor forsake us if we trust in him." 
 Other trust than this would indeed have been but a sorry support. 
 
 Returning to Aden, Dr. Krapf and his wife sailed for Zanzibar, in 
 November, on board an Arab vessel. Three days afterwards a storm 
 came on, and the craft si:irung a leak. Her head was turned towards 
 Aden, but there seemed little hope of reaching it. " The serious idea," 
 Krapf writes, "that we should find a watery grave, gained much ground 
 in our minds. My dear wife and myself repaired to our cabin, recom- 
 mending our bodies and souls, our dear friends at home, the whole mis- 
 sion cause, and especially our Galla mission, to the gracious protection 
 of the Lord." Nearing the harbour, a bark came within hail; and partly 
 by promises, partly by threats, Dr. Krapf prevailed on them to take him- 
 self and wife, with their baggage, on board. " They would by no means 
 receive the captain's baggage, nor any one of his crew. . . . Soon 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 129 
 
 after we had left our leaky vessel she overturned,' the mast lying in the 
 water, and the whole bark floating on the sea like a piece of wood." 
 
 Nothing daunted, however, the missionary and his wife re-embarked, 
 in even a smaller native vessel, within a fortnight. "My sole object," 
 Krapf wrote, " was to depart. The rest was to be settled in secret prayer 
 between me and my gracious God, who alone could effect our safety." 
 Zanzibar was reached Jan. 7, 1844. Thence the devoted pair proceeded 
 to the island of Mombas, arriving in May. 
 
 And now came another "fiery trial." On tlie 6th of July Mrs. Krapf 
 was confined, and a week afterwards, while her husband was chained by 
 fever to his bed, it pleased God to call her to himself. " She begged 
 me," Dr. Krapf wrote, " to give her friends a true account of her last 
 moments, and not to describe her in a light incompatible with strict 
 truth. She charged me especially to tell rtll her friends that they should 
 be true and sincere in their Christian profession, as there was so much 
 untruth in one's mind, which the scrutiny of dying moments would bring 
 to light. As to herself, I should tell her friends that the Saviour had 
 looked mercifully upon her, and that she departed as a poor and miser- 
 able sinner." On the 14th she was buried, "on the mainland, by her 
 own express wish, as she desired to remind the pagan "Wanika, who 
 frequently pass the road by her tomb, of the object which had brought 
 her and myself to this country." That same night the child died, and 
 on the loth was laid with the mother. " The Lord gave them to me for 
 a time," Dr. Krapf wrote, "and he has taken them again. His name 
 be glorified for ever and ever ! I would not wish that he had otherwise 
 dealt with me and my departed familj', for his stroke is a blessing, and 
 his chastisement is glory throughout." 
 
 In missionary excursions, illness, translations, &c.. Dr. Krapf 's time was 
 passed till June, 1846, when a brother-labourer joined him — Mr. Reb- 
 mann. Up to this time Dr. Krapf had resided at Mombas, but now a 
 settlement was effected on the main — at New Rabbai, a village "set on ' 
 a hill" some miles inland from Bombas. On the 25th of August they 
 9 
 
130 PORTFOLIO OF EXTERTAIXJMENT 
 
 wont to take possession, of which Dr. Ej-apf relates : " The cold stage of 
 fever had already commenced when we started, and I was shivering in a 
 high degree. But I said in my heart, the mission must he commenced: 
 should life or death result to me, I can now have no regard to sickness 
 whatever. . . . With great difEculty, and suflering violent pain, I 
 ascended the steep mount on which ISTew Eahbai is situated. I think that 
 scarcely any other mission can have been commenced in greater weak- 
 ness. The Lord pleased to try us, whether we would love our own 
 comforts and lives more than his cause and glory. Xo natural e^-e 
 can see or understand this plan. Everybody would have thought us to 
 be mad ; but we know that no truly Divine work has ever been, nor ever 
 will be, accomplished, unless the human agency through which it is 
 carried out has passed through many and great tribulations." 
 
 The people among whom the missionaries thus settled were the 
 Wanika — "a lying, talking, drinking, superstitious, selfish, and totall}'- 
 earthly-minded people." On the other hand. Dr. Krapf describes them 
 as being men of peace, attentive to their sick, and honest. 
 
 In building a cottage and in other matters much vexation had to be 
 endured, on which Dr. Krapf remarked : " Without a cross, the mission- 
 ary is sure to become a fine gentleman, losing his unction from on high, 
 and seeking for external comforts. Let there rather be a rain of sick- 
 ness, starvation, prisons, and all sorts of suiFerings, than lose my spiritual 
 life in the missionary career." 
 
 Important missionary journeys were made, in 18-17 and 1848, into 
 countries hitherto untrodden by European feet. And now we come to 
 that which amply repaid all the labour and trials we have above de- 
 scribed. On the 31st of May, 1848, a Mnika (pi. Wanika) cripple 
 named Mringa had the gospel proclaimed to him by Dr. Krapf, as hun- 
 dreds of others had had it proclaimed to them. A few days afterwards 
 Dr. Krapf records that he was greatly cast down ; the stubbornness of the 
 Wanika spread a deep gloom over him. On the next day Mringa came, 
 and the missionary rejoiced that there was " a soul which would at least 
 
A X D I X S T K U C T I X . 131 
 
 listen to tlie truth." Gradually the heart of Mriiiga opened, and on the 
 2d of December he gave a proof that he was in earnest by cutting from 
 his neck a string of beads used for superstitious puqioses. "We sat 
 under the shadow of a tree," Dr. Krapf relates, "when this happened. 
 How unsightly are often the beginnings of the kingdom of God in a 
 country ! like a little tree rising out of its hidden roots. A Mnika 
 cripple — nowise, no mighty, nor noble man of this world — performs 
 an act worthy of the gaze of angels ; for be thus declared to serve the 
 living God, and no more the idols of his countrymen. ... On my 
 wav home I thought within myself, it is worth trouble to seek for lost 
 souls, and wait for them till the Lord's hour is come to enlighten them 
 with his marvellous light." 
 
 In June, 1849, two other labourers joined the mission, but one was 
 carried off by fever in a few weeks. Other journeys also were imder- 
 takeu, and in April, 1850, Dr. Krapf left the station on a visit to Europe; 
 Mringa remaining "in a satisfactory frame of mind." Mr. Eebmann 
 now attended to the poor fellow's instruction. A cancer from which he 
 had long suiFered was rapidly progressing, and it became clear he would 
 not live long. "His behaviour, taken as a whole," Mr. Eebmann wrote, 
 " and especially the mentioning of particular sins in his youth, the 
 remembrance of which ho said ached him ; his decided refusal of the 
 country- medicines, as being almost invariably connected with sorcery; 
 his willingness to make an open confession of his faith ; and his readi- 
 ness to die, convinced me that he was, though a weak, yet a real believer 
 in Christ, and therefore entitled to baptism." 
 
 On the 24th of November, a little before sunset, a small company 
 assembled in the open air, before Mringa's hut, and he was baptized. 
 Johanuesi, as he was called, had now "no wish but to go to Jesus." 
 That wish was soon gratified, for in little more than a week he was called 
 to be for ever with his newly confessed Lord. 
 
 Trials still awaited the mission. Dr. Krapf left England in January, 
 1851, accompanied by two missionaries, and at Trieste they were joined 
 
132 PORTFOLIO OF E X T E K T A I X JI i: X T 
 
 by three mechanics. At Aden one of the missionaries declined to proceed 
 further. The otliers reached Mombas on the 2d of April. On the 10th 
 of May, the new missionary died, and a few months afterwards two of 
 the mechanics were compelled by ill-health to return to Europe. Other 
 missionary jouruej's, however, continued to be made, and in one of these 
 Dr. Krapf was in imminent danger of his life. The privations he endured 
 so affected his health that lie was compelled to revisit home at the end 
 of 185.3. Meanwhile, in August of that year, one of the missionaries left 
 New Eabbai for a station in the interior, the king of the place having 
 invited him. He was compelled, however, to resign the post in the fol- 
 lowing Ifovember. 
 
 Ten years' labour, three deaths, other trials innumerable, and but one 
 decided convert to Christ ! 
 
 Such a state of things seems to the worldly mind but a poor result of 
 so groat an expenditure of time, labour, and mone3\ Let us hear, how- 
 ever, what Dr. Krapf says on the subject. "Kever mind the victims 
 which may fall or suffer in this glorious combat. Onl}' carrj' it forward 
 till the east and west of Africa be united in the bonds of Christ !" It is 
 in truth the period of watching for the morning; and the darkness that 
 covers the land may be preceding a glorious effulgence of tlie Sun of 
 righteousness. In attem2:)ting to bring the heathen in, we must throw 
 time out of our calculations. There is no such thing with the Lord. What 
 are ten years to him, with whom all the past and future are alike pre- 
 sent ? At any moment the " set time" for East Africa may come. For 
 it rec[uires no gi'eater power to bring about the brightness of a spiritual 
 noonday, than has already been exerted in the turning of the one con- 
 vert named above, Mringa, "from darkness to light, and from the power 
 of Satan unto God." Such as New Zealand is, and more, soon may 
 East Africa be ! [Meanwhile let Christians be fervent in their supplica- 
 tions for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, 
 
-- ^^^r?;-^'^ 
 
 .\i^ 
 
 The Palm-Tree. 
 
AND I N S T n U C T I N , 
 
 133 
 
 ^\n "§i\\\]\-Z.xtt. 
 
 T ^'^A NE of the most graceful trees in tlie world is tlie 
 I^a' Palm. Ileber employs it as a symbol of the temple: 
 
 ''.^'l^ "No workman's steel, no ponderous axes runj;; 
 
 "k ' -'S'-i^''*? ■'-'''"' some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung." 
 
 "^ /IT^^ The Romans regarded it as a symbol of Palestine ; 
 so that in the medal which was struck by Vespasian to commemorate 
 the capture of Jiulffia, he placed on one side a palm, with the weeping 
 figure of a woman sitting at its base. Around is written, " Judita Capta." 
 Some of the finest of sculptures brought from Nineveh are reiu'eseutations 
 of this tree. It was evidently an object of admiration tliroughout all 
 the east. 
 
 Let us see if it has not lessons for ourselves. 
 
 It grows in the desert, not in the depth of the forest, or in a fertile 
 loam. It seems often to spring from the scorching dust. A little closer 
 inspection, however, or at most the removal of a spadeful of eartli, unveils 
 the secret source of its verdure. It lives on the moisture which is already 
 trickling down into this pool. "The palm is in this respect," says 
 Laborde, "bke a friendly lighthouse, guiding the traveller to the sjiot 
 where water is to be found." You may mark the greenness of its 
 feathery leaves. They never fade, and the dust never settles upon them. 
 
 Mark also its beauty, its erect aspiring growth, its waving [ilumes, the 
 emblem of praise in all nations. You now understand why it was 
 twisted into the booths at the feast of tabernacles, was borne aloft by the 
 crowds that welcomed the Messiah to Jerusalem (.Tolm xii. lo), and is 
 represented as in the hands of the redeemed in heaven (Rev. vii. tl). 
 
 For usefulness, it is unrivalled. Its shade refreshes the traveller. Its 
 fruit restores his strength. When his soul is failing for thirst, it an- 
 
134: 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF EXTEKTAIXJIENT 
 
 iiouuees water. Its stones feed liis camels. Its leaves form his bed. 
 Its boughs he carries home for fences, and its fibres for ropes or risfging. 
 Its best fruit, moreover, is borne in old age. 
 
 A symbol of the temple did wo call it? or of Juda?a? May we not 
 seek its representative nearer to us? Ought we not to find it in our- 
 selves? Glance again at the place, and the means of its growth, the 
 unsullied verdure of its leaty canopy, its ji.iyous movements, its innumer- 
 able uses, and take home the lesson — "the righteous shall flourish like 
 the palm-tree." 
 
 fire ^\ost .§,on founh 
 
 EXTKACT FEOM A MISSION ART JOURNAL. 
 
 ■EAUY and worn; sad and solitary; thousands 
 of miles fVom home and friends; alone in this 
 moral wilderness ; apparently labouring in vain, 
 and spending strength for nought ! N"ay, but 
 ' Why art thou cast down, oh, my soul, and why 
 art thou disquieted witliin me? Hope in God, 
 for I shall ^-et praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my 
 God?' He has said, 'My word shall not return unto me void, but it 
 shall accomplish that which I please, and prosper in the thing whereto I 
 sent it.' Do I not believe this ? Lord, I believe : help thou my un- 
 belief," 
 
 "Another day gone : another day's work done ; and not without some 
 encouragement to sow beside all waters. Preached this morning, with 
 a stammering tongue, to the poor heathen, in their own language. 
 Some derided, but others listened and went away thoughtful. The 
 
A X D I X s T R r C T I X . 135 
 
 native school flourishes. I went, tliis afternoon, to see a jioor man wlio 
 is sick of a fever. Many were gathered round the door to see me; and 
 I told them again of the great Physician. One man followed mo to my 
 house, and gives me reason to hope, with tremhling, tluit the gospel has 
 been made to him the power of God to salvation. . . . Preached to my 
 English congregation this evening; not man}- present, and not much 
 apparently concerned. A few soldiers from the barracks: something 
 unusual this; a fresh company, I suppose." 
 
 "Two or three soldiers at the evening service again. One, I noticed, 
 looked ill, and seemed very attentive. I was enabled to pour out my 
 soul in earnest prayer for my poor fello\v-ci>untrymcn, like me, so far 
 from home and fi lends; and I think I spoke with more aninnition and 
 feeling than I have of late. Oh, that I could see some fruits to the glory 
 of God from m\' poor im[ierfcct labours!" 
 
 "Met the soldier to-day whom I noticed last Sabbath. Spoke to him, 
 and tried to converse; but he seemed sh}' and reserved, though civil. 
 lie has been some time in the country, he saj's, though not here." 
 
 " Several soldiers at the service last evening, among whom I noticed 
 the man to whom I spoke in the week. He staid behind the rest to 
 speak to me, and thanked me for my sermon. The man says, it is a 
 good man}' years since he eidisted, and he is now a corjioral. I asked 
 him to call on me; but, after some hesitation, he declined: kept back, 
 perhaps, by the fear of man, which bringeth a snare. lie seems some- 
 M'hat superior to the ordinary class of men in the lower ranks of the 
 array ; but I could perceive no evidence of piety in his conversation. 
 May God show mercy to him !" 
 
 [AVe take up the journal at a date several weeks later.] 
 
 " The soldier whom I have several times mentioned, called on me to- 
 day for the first time. Since I last wrote of him, he has regularly at- 
 tended the evening service, and though very attentive and serious, has 
 evidentl}- kept out of my way. I was surprised, therefore, to see him. 
 
136 r r. T F L 1 of e n t e p. t a i k m e n t 
 
 lie is in great distress of mind, and seems reluctant to speak of liis past 
 history. lie suffers, be sajs, from the climate, and his looks confirm it: 
 but be bas suffered more, I judge, from mental anguish. He speaks of 
 himself as having sinned almost beyond the reach of God's mere}'. I 
 directed him to the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the 
 WDi-ld, and reminded him that Jesus Christ is able to save to the utter- 
 most all that come to God by him. I prayed with him, and for him, 
 and he went away a little relieved. Ob that there may be a token 
 for good in this ! May it manifestly prove to be the work of the Holy 
 Spirit!" 
 
 '• I have liad another interview to-day with the poor soldier. He has 
 told me bis history: it is a sad one, but there are many others like it. 
 His name is Franklin ; and he is about twent3'-eight years of age. He 
 is the son of pious parents, he sa^^s ; and when he was about eight years 
 old, his father died. After struggling hard for some years, bis mother 
 was reduced to poverty. Instead of being a help and comfort to her, be 
 was led astray by evil companions, and became the chief sorrow of her 
 life. By his youthful excesses, he increased her daily toil, diminished 
 her comforts, and alienated from her the friends who had at one time 
 interested themselves on her behalf. At length, in a fit of rebellion, be 
 entered the army, though he knew that his mother's heart would be rent 
 liy the act. It is now more than eight years since he enlisted. For a 
 few months, be kept up correspondence with his mother; but has not 
 now written to her for j-ears, and he does not know whether she be 
 living. He bas, according to bis own account, led a dissolute life since 
 be became a soldier; and now that he feels his sins have found him out, 
 he is greatlj- depressed and an'xious." 
 
 "A laborious, but a happy day. God is, I trust, granting some testi- 
 niuiiy to the word of his grace. Among the natives are some who are 
 asking, ' What must "C do to be saved ?' And my poor friend, corporal 
 Ffaiiklin, I believe tliat the Lord has beard and answered praj-er for 
 him, and has led him out of darkness into light, as a trophy of Divine 
 
A K D INST 11 r c r 1 X . 1 37 
 
 mercy. I liave seen liini to-day, and have listened with much joj- to the 
 account he gives of the change which he has experienced. What pleases 
 me best in him is the modesty and humility with which he speaks of 
 himself, and the shrinking abhorrence with which he views his past 
 course, when he was without God and hope in the world. He says that 
 there were a few pious soldiers in a former regiment from which he was 
 drafted ; and that he was among the foremost of their persecutors. He 
 is now tasting of the same cup, being a marked man in the barracks ; 
 but from what I hear, he bears it meekly-, remembering Him who en- 
 dured such contradiction of sinners against himself. He speaks with 
 gratitude of the good providence of God, which led him to hear the 
 gospel. He was lounging about the cit^', he saj's, with some comrades, 
 when he heard the sound of singing and stopped to listen. It was an 
 old tune, which he well remembers as a fixvourite of his mother; and, 
 attracted as well as softened by the sound, he persuaded his companions 
 to enter our place of worship with him. It was the first time he had 
 voluntarily heard the gospel preached for many years. The service 
 brought old times to his mind, and he came again and again. His com- 
 rades, who, for a few Sabbaths, continued their attendance, soon gave 
 over, and laughed at him for his constancy ; but he describes himself as 
 having been almost irresistibly impelled to continue his attendance ; and 
 the word spoken was conveyed with power to his soul. May he bo 
 enabled to follow on to know the Lord ! The snares and temptations that 
 surround him are very numerous and strong; but there is One who can 
 keep him from falling. He tells me he has written home. If his mother 
 and sister (for he left a sister behind) be living, it will be to them as life 
 from the dead to know that the poor prodigal has returned to his 
 Heavenly Father." 
 
 [ Tlirce months later. ] 
 "Poor Franklin is very ill ; but in an env-iable state of mind. He has 
 been greatly distressed lest he should have deceived himself; but tho 
 
138 POIlTrOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 darkness nas cleared away; and he is able to cast himself on the mercy 
 of God, through Jesus Christ ; and to see in God a reconciled Friend and 
 Father. His great anxiety is now respecting his neglected and once 
 despised mother, and his sister. He thinks that if they live, and his letter 
 reaches them, they will not believe that George is converted. lie re- 
 members, with deep sorrow of heart, the perpetual sorrow which he 
 caused them, and which must have embittered their lives. He has but 
 faint hopes of seeing them again ; but has charged me with messages to 
 them. I have written. 
 
 " Corporal Franklin is better, but he will never recover health, I fear. 
 He is ordered home with a detachment of invalids, and he will embark 
 next week. I am glad of it for his sake, though I regret losing him : but 
 this is selfish. His acquaintance has been one of the bright spots of my 
 chequered missionary life. Blessed be God, I have not laboured in vain, 
 nor spent my strength for nought; for surely George Franklin has not 
 received the grace of God in vain. If he should be spared to meet his 
 mother, if she lives, it will be a sight for angels to witness with J03'." 
 
 The widow and her daughter sat in the small room which sensed 
 both as a workshop and parlour. Time had dealt leniently with one, and 
 generously with the other. The deep lines of care were not removed, 
 indeed, from the countenance of the mother ; the hairs of silvery white- 
 ness were to be detected beneath her comfortable net cap ; but a gleam 
 of sunshine — the sunshine of faith and hope — seemed to have rested 
 on it all. Tribulation had wrought patience; and patience, experience; 
 and experience, hope — a hope that made not ashamed. Emily Frank- 
 lin, from a sicklj' pallid girl, had risen to womanly grace and healthful 
 complexion. A blessing still rested on the work of her hands. 
 
 Hark! a knock at the door: it was the postman's knock. No mis- 
 taking that, though they did not often receive letters. 
 
 "Who is it from, Emmy?" asked the mother, in a tone of inditlcrence, 
 as she heard her daughter's step returning — lingeriug first, and then 
 
f^Jz^-^^^— 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 139 
 
 raiiiclly. Tlie qnestiou was asked witli indifference, we say; for the wild 
 dream of receiving a letter from him, from George, Lad passed away. 
 "Mother, dear mother — a letter from abroad, and his writing !" 
 The Grecian painter, when he would depict a scene of maternal grief 
 and despair, cast a veil over the mother's countenance. We imitate his 
 example, and draw a veil of silence around the scene of trembling eager- 
 ness, uudefinable dread, faint and fluttering hope, all rising at last, and 
 lost in exuberant joy and gratitude, when the precious letter revealed 
 that her son, once dead, was alive again ; once lost, was found. 
 
 "My mother's legacy! my mother's dying words!" exclaimed the 
 rejoicing widow, when glad, happy tears led the way to utterance: "she 
 told me I should never be sorry, for that twenty pounds being set apart 
 for the missionary work — that it would be made up in better blessings! 
 ' Bless the Lord, my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name ! 
 Bless the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits : who forgiveth 
 all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life 
 from destruction ; who crowneth thee with lo'ving-kiudness and tender 
 mercies !' Emmy, these are the better blessings your grandmother 
 spoke of!" 
 
 Shall we leave off here ; or shall we say, in few words, that, many 
 months afterwards, George returned to his home and his happy mother, 
 discharged from the service, and pensioned, but an invalid ; that, for a 
 time, he rallied under the influence of native air and gentle tending; 
 that he lived long enough to prove the sincerity of his professions, and to 
 evince tlie marvellous power of Divine grace in the conversion of a time- 
 hardened sinner from the error of his ways; and that, then, he died iu 
 his mother's arms ? 
 
 jSTeed we add to this the lessons which our stoiy teaches, that God is 
 not unmindful of the work of fiiith and labour of love — that God hears 
 and answers prayer, but not always in the expected manner or time 
 — that men should always pray and not faint — that thougli God for- 
 
140 
 
 r R T F L 1 OF E X T E K T A I N 51 E X T 
 
 gives his people their nianifolJ folhes, he takes vengeance, oftentimes, on 
 their inventions — tlnit wlien an idol is set up in a Christian's heart, that 
 idol will often he the cause of that Christian's deepest sorrow ; but that, 
 nevertheless, when God wounds, "he wounds to heal." 
 
 ^|e fr;uisfflrnub |sl;inJ(. 
 
 A STOEY OF THE SOl'TH SEAS. 
 
 J^ HEN" jSTapoleon was in Egypt, at the period of his 
 unscrupulous invasion of that country, he wished, it 
 is said, to impress its native chiefs with a sense of the 
 vast power of their conquerors. For that purpose, 
 some chemical experiments were performed h}- the 
 scientific men attached to Bonaparte's staff, and 
 wonderful transformations were in consequence effected. Napoleon 
 judged wisely in thus selecting chemistry as the medium for astonishing 
 the Egyptians ; for assuredly there was no science so well calculated to 
 remind them of their magicians of old. The chemist can change a 
 black into a white colour, can transform poisons into health-giving medi- 
 cines, and out of nauseous or inodorous substances can extract delicious 
 and fragrant perfumes. 
 
 Wonderful as is the chemist's skill, however, there is a moral and a 
 spiritual chemistry occasionally displayed in the world around us which 
 is still more marvellous — that by which God extracts good out of evil. 
 Often and often as this problem has been worked out by the Almighty 
 Governor of the universe, sometimes upon a large, and sometimes upon 
 a small scale, we scarcely know an instance in which it was more singu 
 larly demonstrated than in a small islet in the Pacific Ocean, not much 
 
AND I X S T K U C T I X . 141 
 
 larger than tlie ai-ea of Hyde Park. In ritcairu'.s island, for to tliat 
 locality we refer, the dark elements of lawlessness, lieentiousucss, mur- 
 der, and infidelity, were, by the grace of God, and the power of his 
 Holy Spirit, blessing the perusal of a copy of the sacred volume, trans- 
 formed into the fair and beauteous qualities of love, peace, gentleness, 
 order, and tranquillity. In preparing a work intended to occupy in 
 its perusal a portion of the day of holy rest, we have selected this sub- 
 ject because it illustrates in an agreeable form many important spiritual 
 truths, while it has all the attractions of novelty in consequence of the 
 recent visit to England of a gentleman who, for more than twenty 
 years, has laboured on the spot as an evangelist and pastor. 
 
 Pitcairn's island is a small speck in the Pacific Ocean, about 1200 
 miles from Otaheite. It belongs to a region where the bountiful Creator 
 has scattered beauties with a lavish hand, and where by a little stretch 
 of the fancy we might suppose the " Isles of the Blest," of which poets 
 have dreamed, to be situated. A sunn^- clime, tropical plants, rich fruits, 
 gorgeous flowers, majestic sunsets, and the perpetual roll of an ocean of 
 azure blue round its coral-bound shores, render Pitcairn a spot calculated 
 to charm the most ardent fancy. At the period of which we write it 
 was uninhabited, being known only by name, and scarcely even that to 
 the inhabitants of Europe. 
 
 In 1767, when Captain Carteret was cruising in these latitudes, a young 
 midshipman, of the name of Pitcairn, was the first to discover what 
 seemed in the distance to be little else than a tall rock. On drawing 
 nearer, it was discovered to be an island in miniature ; but the tempestu- 
 ous state of the waters that encompassed it, forbade all landing upon it. 
 The young gentleman who first saw it had his name given to it (alas ! 
 for the brevity of human distinctions, he died soon afterwards); a brief 
 record was made of the event in the vessel's log ; the next hydrographer 
 who drew a chart of the South Sea, perhaps, added a new dot to it ; 
 Captain Carteret briefly mentioned the circumstance in a printed narra- 
 tive of his voyage ; but tliis was all that was known of Pitcairn for many 
 
142 PORTFOLIO OF E N T E 1! T A I N M E N T 
 
 a long (lay. How silently are important events often bom into existence ! 
 The complex web of Providence is being constantly woven around us by 
 a Divine hand ; but there is no bell to ring, as in the Jacquai'd loom in 
 the Exhibition of 1851, and aooounce that some new thread, the first 
 l^ortion of some beauteous pattern, is about to be introduced. 
 
 Some twenty years had rolled on since the discovery of Pitcairn, when, 
 in 1787, the Bounty, a vessel bearing the British pennant, was on her 
 homeward voyage from Otaheite, laden with plants of the bread-fruit 
 tree, which the government of that day intended to introduce into the 
 West Indies. Calmly and majestically the ship sailed on, apparently all 
 peace and trancjuillity, everything in it seemingly the very tj-pe of dis- 
 cipline and order. But this calm was a deceptive one. Within that 
 vessel tliero was smouldei'ing the sullen fire of sinful and evil passions, 
 which wanted but an appropriate opportunity to break forth into a blaze. 
 Fletcher Christian, a young man of a respectable family in the north of 
 England, gifted with good abilities, but of a quick and revengeful spirit, 
 was on board the Bounty, in the capacity of master's mate. His supe- 
 rior in command, Captain Bligh, appears to have been of an unhappy 
 temper, and of an exacting and imperious disposition. Ah! what need 
 is there, in all the relations of life, of the grace of Christian love. How 
 would the inequalities of our social system be rectified did but this grace 
 everywhere prevail, dropping like oil upon all the jarring wheels of the 
 political machine. Had Bligh but remembered the Divine command, 
 "Forbear threatening;" had he acted under the habitual conviction that 
 he too "had a master in heaven;" and had Fletcher Christian remem- 
 bered the Divine command, "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome 
 evil with good," our story would not have had to be written. But, alas! 
 it was far otherwise. Bligh kept his crew in a state of exasperation, 
 and Christian, resenting his treatment, gave way to the spirit of revenge. 
 He fomented a mutiny amongst his companions, which came to a head 
 on the 28th of April, 1789 — a day which had been preceded by a night 
 remarkable even in that tropical region for its stillness and beauty. 
 
AND IXSTRUCTION. 143 
 
 Into the details of that mntiny it is not our province to enter here. 
 Let it suffice to say tliat Captain Bligh, with a handful of men who had 
 remained faithful to him, and a small allowance of provisions, was placed 
 in a small boat, laden to within a few inches of the water's edge, and 
 left to the mercies of the wind and waves. As the unhappy commander 
 awoke to a perception of the calamity that had befallen him, he made a 
 farewell appeal to tlie conscience of Christian, on the subject of his 
 undutiful conduct. The reply expressed the' stormy tumult of feeling 
 that raged within: "I am in hell — I am iu hell, Captain Bligh," he 
 said — incoherent expressions, perliaps, but suiBciently significant, how- 
 ever interpreted, of the volcanic fires that raged within. " There is no 
 peace to the wicked, saith my God; he is as the troubled sea which can- 
 not rest." 
 
 na\ang seen the last of the boat of Captain Bligh and his crew, the 
 mutineers turned the head of their vessel back to Otaheite, longing for 
 the revelry and sensual case which they hoped there to enjoy. In those 
 days, our seamen were too often but emissaries of evil, and, while pro- 
 fessing the name of Christ, brought to heathen lands only a subtler and 
 more degrading form of heathenism. There was indeed something 
 mournfully aft'ecting in the spectacle which the mutinous vessel now pre- 
 sented. She had flung to the winds the restraints of law and order. 
 Like some wild youth or prodigal, who has thrown aside all the barriers 
 of discipline or parental control, she hurried on, lured by the false mirage 
 of sinful pleasure, and dreaming that no retribution awaited her. But 
 never, as the sequel will show, was mistake more complete. Though the 
 ocean did not engulf the guilty crew — though the winds did not over- 
 whelm them in their fury (as in the providential government of God they 
 might have been permitted to do) — yet the retribution was equally 
 eftectual. They carried iu their own breasts the witness and the avenger 
 of their crime. " To see," saj-s an American divine, " to see men rea- 
 soning against retribution, when retribution is working within them! 
 Reasoning against the government of God and eternal justice, when 
 
144 PORTFOLIO OF E M' E K T A I X M E X T 
 
 doing upon themselves the very work of Divine government, luid the 
 sorest part of tlie retributive vengeance ! They may reason against a 
 judgment to come, but it is Hke reasoning against the fact of their owu 
 existence. It is a necessit}' as inexorable as the memory of sin." 
 
 Ere long, the Bounty reached once more the shores of Otaheite ; but 
 there a diiSculty arose. In what manner should they account to the 
 natives for their unexpected return, and for the absence of their com- 
 mander and so many of the crew. There was but one course open, and 
 that was to follow the crime which the}- had committed with a lie; for 
 let the young reader remember that sin is ever prolific, and that one 
 deviation from rectitude almost inentably necessitates a second, in the 
 shape of a falsehood, to cloak it. The lie was soon told. The mutineers 
 had met, they said, the Otaheitans' old friend. Captain Cook, and Bligh, 
 with a portion of their comrades, had joined him. The simple-minded 
 children of the south readily credited the tale, and warmly welcomed the 
 wanderers to their shores. Reflection was flung to the winds, and Chris- 
 tian and his companions indulged in the pleasures of sin for a season. It 
 was only /or a season, however; tlie pleasures of sin never last longer. 
 The mj'sterious phantasmagoria painted by a guilty conscience would 
 flash across their soul. Imagination would paint their commander and 
 his crew suffering the horrors of starvation, or engulfed in the ocean ; 
 while at other times it would represent them as safely guided to some 
 European settlement; their tale of wrong echoing through the com- 
 munity; government justly indignant at the outrage on their authority, 
 and tlie avenger of blood upon their track. Ah! Fletcher Christian, llitte 
 didst thou foresee the miseries that were to follow thy deviation from 
 the path (if duty. Would that thy example may ring like an alarm-bell 
 in the ears of an}- young man dallying with temptation, and startle him 
 back from the edge of the precipice. 
 
 Xo time was to be lost; so the^mutineers concluded on seeking a safer 
 shelter than what Otaheite afforded. Leaving, therefore, a portion of the 
 
A .N D I N S T K i: C T I N . 145 
 
 crew boliiiid them, tlicy again set sail.* Cain founJ no rest for the sole 
 of his foot, and so seemed it to be with this little company. Mutual 
 recriminations ensued, and Christian's temper became broken, moody, 
 and fitful. lie again landed at Toubouai, and as tlie first fratricide built 
 a cit}', to ease by occupation his mental agony, so ho ordered a fort to be 
 constructed ; but tlie work prospered not. Again, with a heavj- heart, 
 he ordered the anchor to be heaved, the sail to be unfurled, and once 
 more the "Bountj'," like a guilty thing, sought some spot where it might 
 evade the grasp of justice. Thus sailing about, the little island of Pit- 
 cairn was reached. Situated at a vast distance from any other land, and 
 inaccessible except at certain states of the weatlier, it seemed to promise 
 seclusion and protection. Xow, then, the die was to be cast, and the last 
 link that bound them to the society of civilized man to be cut, by the 
 destruction of their vessel. The little party according!}' landed, and un- 
 shipping their effects, carried them ashore. Amongst other things, some 
 books were landed. If we examine these closely, we shall mai-k au old 
 Bible lying in the heap. That volume, reader, we shall meet with again 
 before closing this eventful history. All having been arranged, the brand 
 is applied, and the Bounty is wrapped in flames — flames that tj'pify too 
 appropriately the fires of remorse, by which the mutineers are surrounded. 
 And now the deed is done, the work of destruction is complete ! They 
 stand on the soil of their adoption henceforward to herd with savages, 
 and to share no more the delights of an English home. When the 
 pilgrim fathers, in the Mayflower, landed ou the shores of America, 
 severe privations and an unknown wilderness lay before them ; but they 
 felt neither lonely nor discouraged, for God was with tiieji — a sun and 
 a shield — a veiy present refuge in the time of trouble. Far dift'oreut, 
 alas ! was it with Fletcher Christian and his crew. In an emphatic sense, 
 thej- stood alone — exiles from social life — fugitives from justice — while 
 
 * Tlioy ciirrioJ also witli thc-m six Taliiti:in liieu and twelve Tahitiiin woineu; of tlie 
 latter, nine were wives of tlic mutineers, and three wore wives of tlie Tuliitians. 
 10 
 
146 PORTFOLIO or i;.\Ti; K T A I.\ M EX T 
 
 unrepeuted guilt arose as a wall of separation between tbem and tlieir 
 Creator. Unhappy men ! 
 
 The commander of the Bounty, and such of his crew as remained faith- 
 ful to him, found themselves, when the mutinous vessel had departed, in 
 circumstances that might well have daunted the stoutest hearts. They 
 were nearly four thousand miles from any European settlement; their 
 allowance of food and water was limited to an ounce per day of the 
 former, and a miserable pittance of the latter for each man. The ocean 
 beneath them revealed the forms of ravenous animals ready to seize tliem 
 as tlieir prey; while, as if to mock their misery, fair and verdant islands 
 lay within sight, although unapproachable from the cruel character of the 
 savages by which thej were inhabited. How much, we may observe in 
 passing, does commerce owe to the gospel and the mis-sions which it has 
 originated. The spots where, from fear of massacre, Bligh and his crew 
 dared not land (one of the men having been killed in an attempt to do 
 so), have since, by means of the labours of Williams and others, been 
 made accessible with safety to the mariner and the merchant. Surely 
 this is a fact worthy of being pondered by those who have hitherto looked 
 with coldness on missionarj- enterprise. 
 
 The boat in which the little party was crowded together was laden to 
 within a few inches of the water's edge ; yet, terrible as this situation was, 
 there was one load, more dreadful than any material burden, from which 
 they were happily free — the consciousness of crime. They needed, in 
 the tremendous circumstances in which they were placed, to put forth 
 exertion, and their energies were not paralyzed by the recollection of 
 rebellion and outrage having been perpetrated by them. Men can fight 
 the battle of life courageously when they have the music of a good con- 
 science to sweeten their toils; but feeble is that arm, and dull is that 
 brain, whose vigour is depressed by the sense of unrepented and unpar- 
 doned guilt. 
 
 After a long and trying voyage of forty-one days, they reached a 
 friendly shore, life having been preserved amidst almost unparalleled 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 147 
 
 dangers. Witli a loadeii bullet for liis weight (long preserved as a 
 memento of the occasion), and two cocoa-nut shells for his scales, the 
 commander had daily measured out their slender portion of sustenance. 
 Their little bark at times had passed through seas so storm\- that often 
 its sail was becalmed between the mountainous waves that rearc<I 
 themselves on either side. A special Providence, howevei-, had watched 
 over them. Prayer for divine protection had been daily oti'ered up, and 
 amidst the desolate waste of waters their supplications were heard, and 
 the needful succour vouchsafed. 
 
 The tale of suffering and wrong which Bligh brouglit home rang 
 through England, and created a lively sympathy in kis favour. Govern- 
 ment felt keenlj' the outrage committed upon its authority, and a swift- 
 footed messenger of vengeance, in the shape of a frigate, was dispatched 
 to track the Bount}-, and bring Christian and his companions to justice. 
 Tiie Pandora, for so the vessel was named, scoured the Pacific on this 
 errand, but no trace of the vessel could be ol)tained. A few of the muti- 
 neers, however, who had been left at Otaheite, were arrested, and two 
 others, it was found, had been murdered. Of the captured men, three 
 were drowned in the homeward voyage, and three forfeited their lives to 
 justice upon their arrival in England. But where were Christian and 
 the remaining mutineers ? That was a mystery which none could solve. 
 
 The readers of our former pages are, however, already in possession 
 of that secret ; and it is now time to return to Pitcairn. Of the refugees 
 on that island, the first to awake to a consciousness of their position were 
 the Otaheitan natives, whom the mutineers had lured to join their band, 
 in ordei', as it proved, to make use of them as slaves Thorougldy dis- 
 abused of their former confidence, they now rebelled, and plotted against 
 their selfish tyrants. Suspicion, and fear too, were rife in the little 
 colony. Christian was haunted with the dread of discovery, and con- 
 structed for himself, on an elevated jiart of the island, a species of strong- 
 hold from which he could scan the horizon and detect the approach of 
 any vessel in the distance. Ah I what melancholy hours must he have 
 
148 PORTFOLIO OF E N T E R T A 1 X M E X T 
 
 passed in solitude tliere ; his prospects in life fdl blighted, and he an exile 
 from his native soil, and subject to a felon's doom. Truly he had sold 
 himself for nought, and might witli miOurnful truth exclaim, "What fruit 
 have I in those things whereof I am now ashamed ? for the end of those 
 things is death." 
 
 The dread of a visit from a man-of-war sent in i^ursuit of them was not, 
 however, confined, to Christian, hut was shared in by his English com- 
 panions. The clouds in tliese regions often take the resemblance of 
 material objects, and would, to the guilty fancy of the mutineers, at 
 times assume the shape of a vessel approaching the island. Then was 
 fulfilled the saying of Scripture, " The wicked fleeth when no man pur- 
 sueth ;" for, startled by the form which their guilty conscience had con- 
 jured up, they would hurry to caves and other retreats for shelter. Once, 
 however, their apprehensions were attended with some degree of reality. 
 A vessel did touch at the island, and, as the mutineers on timidly emerg- 
 ing from concealment discovered, by the marks of a fire on shore, actually 
 landed a party, who had retreated, however, without discovering the 
 Bounty's secret. 
 
 But sin is its own avenger, and he who commits a crime forges fetters 
 for his soul. Often, too, it happens that the punishment bears a strong 
 resemblance to the crime which has been committed. So it proved in 
 the present instance. The tyrannj- which Bligh exercised upon Chris- 
 tian and his companions, they, in their turn, appear to have displayed 
 towards the Otaheitan natives, who watching an opportunity, slew Chris- 
 tian and four of the whites at a moment when they were totally unsus- 
 pecting such a fate. Thus perished this unhappy man, pursued by the 
 same violence that he had unchained upon others. A few of his com- 
 rades still remained, however, and between them and the male Otahei- 
 tans a civil war raged which ended in the destruction of the latter. The 
 soil of Pitcairn was now literally drenched in blood. 
 
 But a new and more dreadful element was yet to mingle with the 
 strife. One of the mutineers had learned in his mother country the art 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 1-19 
 
 of distillation, and in au evil hour f<jr himself, ho succeeded in extracting 
 spirits from a native plant. Intoxication was now added to the otlier 
 horrors of the scene. Two of the men were almost constantly drunk, 
 and one of them speedily met with au appalling doom, having thrown 
 himself from a clitl" in a fit of delirium tremens. His com[ianion in intoxi- 
 cation died in a manner equally awful — for the two surviving mutineers 
 (to that little number had the Bounty's crew been reduced), finding their 
 lives endangered by his excesses, slew him in self-defence ! 
 
 But here surely we may appropriately pause and reilect. These men 
 had escaped retribution from the hands of society, but their own wicked- 
 ness punished them. Sin proved their destruction, and the working of 
 their evil passions changed a natural p^aradise into a pandemonium. It is 
 no idle fiction, therefore, that we repeat, when we warn men to beware 
 of sin as their worst enemy, and beseech them to get rid of a principle 
 that must, if unchecked, prove their ruin, by seeking those renewing 
 influences of the Holy Spirit which can alone deliver them from its power. 
 
 Meanwhile a group of children was springing up, born of English 
 fathers and Otaheitan mothers. Uncared-for and unattended, with 
 nothing but sin as an example, tliey seemed likely to grow up heathens, 
 witli the vices of civilization added to those of paganism. The mutineers, 
 we have said, were reduced to two in number — one formerly a midship- 
 man, of the name of Young (who died not long after the events narrated 
 above), and the other a common seaman, known on board the Bounty 
 as Alexander Smith, but who assumed the name of John Adams. Oue day 
 as he rummaged amidst his stores, a book turned up. Tliat book was 
 the Bible — a volume to which he had long been a stranger. In early life, 
 when he wandered as an errand boy about the streets of London, he had 
 taught himself to read by perusing the bills upon the walls. And now 
 was to be seen the value even of that piartial knowledge. It iiad pre- 
 pared him to read the word of God. Take courage, then, Eagged or 
 Sunday-school teachers, in your self-denying labours of love. That rude, 
 wayward, and uncouth child, whom you train with difficulty, and amidst 
 
150 POKTFOLIO or ENTERTAIXMEXT 
 
 sore discouragement, may yet, in the providence of God, be thrown into 
 circumstances where the instruction, now seeming!}- so valueless, may be 
 all potential for good. 
 
 But to return to Adams. He opened the Scriptures. His soul was 
 sick atid weary of tlie scenes of outrage and lawlessness which he had 
 witnessed, and in the silence of the night his sleep had been troubled and 
 disturbed by recollections of the past and apprehensions of the future. 
 He had been made to eat of the fruit of his own ways, and his own 
 wickedness had corrected him. And now he turns over the volume. 
 Can there be hope, be thinks, within its pages for such as he? Yes, 
 blessed be God ! there is. As he glances through it, texts like these, per- 
 advonture, may meet his eye : "As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no 
 f)leasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from bis 
 wickedness and live." " Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall bo 
 as white as snow; though the^- be red like crimson, they shall be as 
 wool." What then is to be the issue of these studies ? Many have gone 
 thus far, who go no further. Many have been thus aroused, and yet 
 slept once more the sleep of sin. Meanwhile we may say of Adams, as 
 was declared of one of old, "Behold he prayeth." 
 
 In passing tlirougb the streets of the great metropolis, our attention 
 has not unfrequently been drawn to the operations of some workmen 
 engaged in sculpturing the front of a public building. When a device 
 of more than usual attractiveness has had to be wrought, the artist, 
 hidden behind a screen, has toiled from da}' to day, the passers-by re- 
 maining unconscious of what was going on within. At last, when the 
 work has been completed, the covering is removed, and to the view of all 
 there stands forth a graceful production that e.xtorts the admiration of 
 every beholder. We are reminded of this comparison as we trace the 
 history of Piteairn. 
 
 A quarter of a century had rolled away since the mutiny of the Bounty 
 had taken place, and the circumstances attending that event had been 
 almost forgotten by the public, absorbed as its attention had been by the 
 
AND I X S T II U C T I X . 151 
 
 exciting events of tlio French Revolution and tlic war witli Xapoleon. 
 In the year 1814, however, two English men-of-war, towards the close 
 of an evening in September, finind themselves near an island, in a lati- 
 tude where their charts gave them no indications of such a spot being 
 situated. When morning dawned, habitations were discovered, but so 
 neat and orderly in their structure as to carryback tlie spectators to asso- 
 ciations rather of civilized than savage life. While man-elling what all 
 this indicated, a canoe was seen to put from the shore, guided bv two 
 j'outliful natives, one of them tall, dark-haired, and with features intelli- 
 gent and interesting. We might almost fancy the officers of the men- 
 of-war, as they gazed on the little skiff that was approaching them, 
 grieving that countenances so expressive should belong to inhabitants 
 sunk in barbarism, when to their astonishment the young Polynesians 
 hail them in the English tongue. Their amazement, however, rose still 
 higher, when on ottering tlie youths refreshment, after they had come 
 on board, they both reverently stood up, and putting their liands together 
 in an attitude of devout supplication, exclaimed, (still in the mother 
 tongue of Old England,) " For what we are about to receive the Lord 
 make us truly thankful." The unknown character of the island, sur- 
 prise at hearing the language of their native land spoken in such a sjiot, 
 and the simple piet3- of the youths, all filled the spectators with astonish- 
 ment; but before we can explain the mystery, we must return to him 
 whom, in a former part of our narrative, we left engaged in prayer. 
 
 If tliere is an liour in the history of the scHil more momentous than 
 another, it is that in which the Spirit of God strives with the conscience 
 of the awakened sinner, and when on the one side the woi'ld, and on the 
 other the realities of things to come, contend, as it were, for the mastery. 
 "When the Holy Spirit," it has been well remarked, "brings man up to 
 that line where nothing separates liim from the Saviour but man's own 
 determination — when awakened, convinced, impressed, sensitive and 
 sorrowing, the Saviour stands before liim, offers to him everything freely, 
 and asks him to obey him — 0, could his heart reply, ' I will,' — could ho 
 
152 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 resolve to turn at once from every tempting oppof?er and follow Jesus 
 only, and make one sacrifice of pride and indolence and fear, to enter 
 into covenant with Christ — the conquered enemy would depart from 
 him. Angels would shout a Saviour's glory over another soul rescued 
 as a brand i:)lucked out of the fire. But if such an oiFer and such grace 
 are rejected, the despised Spirit rarely returns." * 
 
 It was such a decisive hour with John Adams; but, happily, he re- 
 pented and humbled himself before God. lie came to the Saviour in 
 earnest and cleaved to him in faith for salvation. Nor was his applica- 
 tion in vain. Peace, shed abroad b}' the Holy Spirit, in due time visited 
 liis soul, and he resolved henceforth to live no longer to himself, but unto 
 God. 
 
 It is the property of true religion that it is unselfish in its character, 
 and that it is distinguished by eflforts for the good of others. These 
 qualities soon manifested tliemselves in Adams. On looking around he 
 had been grieved to see the young children growing up untended and 
 uncared for, all the vices of heathenism threatening to be developed in 
 them. He longed to remedy the evil, and while he pondered the matter, 
 a means of doing so was unexpectedly related. "Having wanted a piece 
 of ground broken up, in order to plant some yams, he had promised two 
 youths, Edward Quintal and Robert Young, the pi-esent of a small vial 
 of gunpowder if they would undertake the task. After the ground had 
 been broken up and the yams planted, the two youths asked him which 
 would please him best, to give them the gunpowder or to teach them 
 some lessons. Pleased with the remark, he offered them the gunpowder 
 as well, which they refused. He then told them that if there were any 
 more of their companions who would like to be taught, he would teach 
 them. The consequence was that, much to John Adams's delight, the 
 whole of the children came to him, and soon acquired such a thirst for 
 instruction that he had little else to do than to answer their inquiries." 
 
 Such was the first school at Pitcairn. The old mutineer, whose lips 
 * Tyng's " Christ is All." 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 153 
 
 had uttered lilasphcniics, now tanglit Lis young charge to lisp the pleas- 
 ing accents of their Creator's praise. The knowledge of the true God 
 and Saviour was proclaimed among them, and the Bihle made the 
 standard of their actions. The Lord's day was also honoured ; and so 
 gently and wisely was the whole work accomplished, that gradually a 
 little colony of forty-six individuals grew up around John Adams, looking 
 to him as a patriarch, and a guide in all their temporal and spiritual 
 matters. The English tongue was the language spoken ; and well did 
 the little group i-epresent the nation from whom they thus claimed 
 descent. In appearance they were liandsome ; their faces beamed with 
 kindness, while their bearing was modest and becoming; immorality 
 was unknown in their midst, scandal was studiously banished, diligence 
 was promoted, and such of the arts as their instructer had carried with 
 him from Europe, were taught them, so that comfort pervaded their 
 dwellings. Contrasted, indeed, with what had preceded it, the scene was 
 strikingly beautiful, resembling a fair morning chasing away the clouds 
 and darkness of a gloomy night. And all these blessed results pro- 
 ceeded, be it remembered, from carrying out the precepts of the Bible. 
 The one copy of that volume which had been carried ashore from the 
 wreck of the Bounty had, by the blessing of the Spirit of God, wrought 
 out this transformation ! Talk of bibliolatry ! We cannot exalt too 
 highly the efhcacy of the word of God, as the great lever for the regene- 
 ration and elevation of society. What it did for Pitcairn, it is able to 
 do for all the dark places of the earth. Well has an able writer said 
 upon this subject: — "No sooner is the Bible fairly entrenched in a 
 country, and its great truths transcribed by the Spirit of God upon the 
 hearts of the people, than there begins to be a remodelling of their 
 domestic architecture. Natural affection resumes its proper sway. The 
 conjugal, parental, and filial relations, dovelope their beautiful tracery. 
 The wife is clothed with her rightful honours as the equal and com- 
 panion of her husband. Children are made the objects of a vigilant and 
 tender care ; and households gradually cast off their uncouth and revolt- 
 
154 PORTFOLIO OF EKTEllTAINJIEXT 
 
 ing attributes, and confomi to tlio Scripture pattern. To eifect a revolu- 
 tion like this in a nation, is to achieve a coucpest, the moral si)lendour 
 of which surpasses the gloiy of all Caesar's and Napoleon's victories." 
 
 But it is time to return to the visitors to Pitcairn. On landing, all 
 that thej saw breathed peace and serenity ; and the little spot seemed 
 like some Eden bower, restored to a sin-stricken world. They gazed 
 with wonder on the scene, and reassuring John Adams, whose mind had 
 been troubled at their visit, they again set sail, carrying to their native 
 land the tidings of what they had witnessed. About the same period, 
 news reached the country of the triumphs of the missionary labours long 
 pursued in Tahiti and elsewhere ; so that it seemed as if the wilderness 
 was literally about to blossom like the rose. 
 
 Time wore away, and many years had elapsed, when in 1825 another 
 ship-of-war again approached Pitcairn. Her officers found the good 
 work still prospering, and love and harmony pervading the little com- 
 munity'. Upon landing and retiring to rest, the evening hymn, chanted 
 b}' the islanders, soothed their slumbers ; and at dawn of day they were 
 awoke by the strains of the morning hymn. On the Lord's day, again, 
 equally pleasing signs i:)resented themselves. The little community 
 crowded their humble sanctuary, no work of any kind being permitted 
 to take place. Great devotion was apparent in every individual; and 
 even among the children there was a seriousness unknown in the younger 
 part of our communities at home. A sei'mon was delivered ; but here, we 
 fear, the inhabitants of ritcairn will find few European admirers or imi- 
 tators. It was read over three times, lest any part of it should be forgotten. 
 "The service," observes a spectator, "was very long; but the neat and 
 cleanly appearance of the congregation, the devotion that animated every 
 countenance, and the innocence and simplicity of the little children, pre- 
 vented the attendance from becoming wearisome." With respect to 
 Adams himself, the same narrator states that, from close observation, he 
 had no doubt of the sincerity of his piety. Adams was on board the 
 vessel that had arrived from England, for two or three days, and slept in 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 155 
 
 tlic captain's caljiu ; but lie would never got into bed till tlio captain bad 
 got into bis and was supposed to bo asleep, wben, in a retired corner of 
 tbe cabin, be fell on bis knees and performed bis devotions ; and be was 
 always up first in tbe morning for tbe same purpose. 
 
 "All tbat remains to be said," concludes tbis writer, "of tbcse excel- 
 lent people, is, tbat tbey appear to live togetber in perfect barniony and 
 contentment ; to be virtuous, religious, cbeerful, and bospitable, bej'ond 
 tbe limits of prudence; to be patterns of conjugal and parental affection, 
 and to bave no vices. We remained witb tbem many daj's, and tbeir 
 unreserved manner gave us tbe fullest opportunity of becoming acquainted 
 witb any faults tbey migbt bave possessed." 
 
 In 1829, forty years after tbe mutiny of tbe Bount}', Jobn Adams died, 
 full of years and full of bouours. Tbe excellency of tbe latter part of 
 bis life bad tbrown into tbe sbade tbe stains of its opening; wbile tbe 
 vices b}' wbicb bis earlier j-ears were stamped, made only more distiu- 
 guisbing and glorious tbe grace of tbat Saviour wbo bad wrougbt sucb 
 transforming etiects in bis life and cbaracter. After sucb an example as 
 bis, no one wbo unfeignedly seeks tbe Saviour need despair of accept- 
 ance ; and after sucb au example, too, we may add, no one ougbt to 
 doubt tbe I'cality of tbat great cbange wbicb Scripture speaks of as neces- 
 sary before we can enter tbe kingdom of beaven. Yes, reader, conver- 
 bIou and regeneration are not idle or unmeaning terms, but solemn and 
 momentous realities. Nor is tbeir necessity confined to cbaracters so 
 abandoned as Adams bad been ; for tbe moral and amiable, as mucb as 
 tbe open sinner, require tbis groat cbange to pass upon tbeir soul. ! 
 lot tbis question, tlien, dwell witb tbe reader, till it obtain au answer — 
 "Am I converted to God? Am I tbe subject of tbe rogeueratiug influ- 
 ences of bis Spirit?" 
 
 Tbe former scboolmaster and present pastor of Pitcairn is George H. 
 E"obbs, a plain weatber-beateu man, past middle life. As be walked 
 tbrougb tbe streets of London, he complained of being stunned and con- 
 fused by tbe noise tbat broke upon bis car; for during tbe previous five 
 
156 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 and twenty years he had been living in stilhiess and repose, upon the 
 island of Pitcairn. Yet his had been no unexciting life ; for, before retreat- 
 ing to the solitude of the Pacific, he had mingled largely in the strifes 
 and agitations of the world. 
 
 He was, in early youth, a midshipman in the British navy. He after- 
 wards served in the South American revolutionaiy war ; and from the 
 perils out of which he emerged previous to becoming a good soldier of 
 Jesus Christ, he may be said, literally, to have been presented " unto the 
 faith." After seeing much of the horrors of civil strife, he took passage 
 to England in a ship which had just touched at Pitcairn. The story 
 which was told him by the captain, of the peace and happiness that per- 
 vaded that spot, powerfully influenced his mind, contrasting as they did 
 with the scenes of slaughter and carnage which he had witnessed. The 
 grace of God had touched his heart, and he longed henceforth to live for 
 the good and happiness of his fellow creatures. 
 
 How to get to the spot which he so much desired to visit, was a pro- 
 blem difficult to solve ; but at last, in a frail barque of eighteen tons 
 burden, navigated by himself and one other individual, he reached the 
 island, was received by John Adams with kindness, and after the death 
 of that patriarch, devoted himself to the instruction of the children. He 
 held on his way through good and evil report, for even of the latter — as 
 all men who will labour for Christ must expect — he had his share. "He 
 is probably," wrote one on hearing of his arrival, "one of those half- 
 witted persons who fancy they have received a call to preach nonsense 
 — some cobbler escaped from his stall, or tailor from his shojj-board; 
 and it is but too evident that the preservation of the innocence, simplicity, 
 and happiness of these amiable people, is intimately connected with his 
 speed}' removal from the island." Happily, never was prognostication 
 more completely falsified. Mr. Kobbs became a real blessing to the 
 community; and by his holiness of life, as well as by a course of instruc- 
 tion based on the word of God, carried on and advanced the good work 
 which Adams had begun. 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 1"7 
 
 "We cannot, perhaps, better illustrate tlie evangelical spirit whicli per- 
 vades this excellent man than by transferring to our pages a few simple 
 verses, which he has composed for the use of his island ilock. 
 
 " I -will not encumber my verse 
 
 With metaphor, figure, or trope, 
 Nor will I the praises rehearse 
 
 Of aught in creation's wide scope. 
 My Bible shall furnish the theme, 
 
 My subject will angels applaud, 
 My soul shall rejoice in his name, 
 
 My Brother, my Saviour, my God. 
 
 " My Brother ! How grateful that sound. 
 
 When sorrow preys deep on the heartj 
 When malice and discord abound, 
 
 What balm can a brother impart ! 
 A tender, unchangeable Friend, 
 
 On whose bosom 'tis sweet to recline. 
 Ever prompt to assist or defend ; 
 
 Such a Friend — such a Brother is mine. 
 
 " My Saviour ! Thrice glorious name ; 
 
 But who of the children of men 
 The wondrous appointment may claim, 
 
 Or who can the title sustain ? 
 Immanuel, Jesus, alone 
 
 Doth fulness and fitness combine; 
 lie only for sin can atone. 
 
 And he is my Saviour — e'en mine." 
 
 It having been judged expedient by many of the friends of Pitcairn, 
 and having been wished by the islanders themselves, that Mr. Nobbs 
 should bo regularly ordained to the office of the Christian ministry, he 
 
158 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 returned to his native land for tliat purpose, in August, 1852. The 
 scene which took place on his departure showed the estimation in which 
 he was held. His little flock accompanied him to the shore, and with 
 tears and embraces bade him a tender adieu. 
 
 On his arrival in England, Mr. Nobbs created much interest, and was 
 introduced to her Majesty. The statements which he has furnished re- 
 specting his interesting charge, enable us now with accuracy to ascertain 
 the real condition of Pitcairu, to which, we may observe, he has sub- 
 sequently returned. 
 
 "When Captain Basil Hall visited Loo Choo, he was charmed with the 
 apparent innocence of the unsophisticated children of nature, which its 
 inhabitants appeared to bo. Subsequent investigations of voyagers, how- 
 ever, proved that the air of simplicity was only assumed, and that the 
 Loo Chooans masked under the garb of gentleness, the ordinary qualities 
 of heathen life. ISTo investigation, however, of the work at Pitcairn has 
 revealed an}- such disappointing result. It has stood the test of experi- 
 ence, and each successive visitor has confirmed the testimony of his 
 predecessor, showing that the fruits produced there have been those 
 springing from Christian principles and the diffusion of scriptural truth. 
 Captain Worth, who visited the island in 1848, says: — "I never was so 
 gratified as by my visit, and would rather have gone there than to any 
 part of the world. . . . Time presses, and I will only now say, that 
 they are the most interesting, contented, and happy people that can be 
 conceived. The comfoi-t, peace, strict morality, industry, and excessive 
 cleanliness and neatness that were apparent about them, were really 
 such as I was not prepared to witness ; their learning and attainments in 
 general education and information are really astonishing ; the men and 
 women are a fine race, and their manners really of a superior order — 
 ever smiling and joyous; but one mind and one wish seems to actuate 
 them all. Crime appears to be unknown ; and if there is really true 
 happiness on earth, it is surely theirs. The island is romantic and beau- 
 tiful ; the soil of the richest description, yielding almost every fruit and 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 159 
 
 vogetaLle. In sliort, it is a little paradise." Even the common sailors 
 who have occasionally been permitted to land, have been struck with the 
 appearance of the spot, and awed by the virtuous example of the inhabi- 
 tants. One rough seaman wliom a gentleman had spoken to in praise 
 of the exemplary conduct which his companions had showed when upon 
 the island, replied: " Sir, I expect if one of our fellows were to misbe- 
 have himself /jere, we should not leave him alive." 
 
 The secret of this excellence finds a solution in the memorable remark 
 of Mr. Xobbs. A gentleman had asked him how he accounted for such 
 an absence of evil amongst the inhaljltants of Pitcairn ; how it agreed 
 with the belief that all mankind are sinful, and with the teaching of the 
 Bible on the subject. "Because," Mr. ISTobbs answered, "the children 
 have no bad example before their eyes ; evil is no doubt in them, as in 
 all other human beings, but there is no encouragement from without to 
 bring it to the surf;iec ; tlie Bible is the daily and hourly rule of life ; if 
 a dispute arise, the}' act on the injunction, 'Let not the sun go down 
 upon 3'our wrath.' Again, the young people know the^' can marry when 
 they are old enough, so one temptation to sin is removed ; there are no 
 differences of religious opinion amongst thcru ; a bad word or an indecent 
 jest are unknown upon the island, nor arc intoxicating liqixors ever seen." 
 
 In such dread and abhorrence are strong drinks held at Pitcairn, that 
 one of the first enactments of their little code guards against their admis- 
 sion. "No person" — so it runs — "or persons shall be allowed to get 
 spirits of any sort from any vessel. No intoxicating liquor whatever 
 shall be allowed to be taken on shore, unless for medicinal purposes." 
 
 Loyalty and attachment to government are the fruits of sound religious 
 training, and by these virtues the Pitcairners are distinguished. "Fear 
 God and honour the king," arc two commands placed together in the 
 word of God, which they have not separated. The queen's birthda}' is 
 with them a grand festival ; it is kept up with feasting and dancing, (the 
 only day they are allowed to dance on the island,) and almost the first 
 question everybody asks is, "How is her majesty the queen?" 
 
160 -PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Anofher enactment of their little community will almost provoke a 
 smile. Being mucli aiHicted with rats, the cat is in consequence an 
 animal of great value. The person killing one must, as a penalty, destroy 
 three hundred rats, and exhibit their tails for the inspection of the 
 magistrate, by way of proof that the penalty has been paid. 
 
 Of the spiritual character of the teaching of the pastor of Pitcairn, a 
 pleasing specimen is presented in the fragment of one of his sermons, 
 delivered on the occasion of the marriage of two of the islanders. 
 "Form," he said, addressing the young couple, "the holy resolution 
 that you and your house will serve the Lord ; and having made this reso- 
 lution, persevere in it till death. Be diligent in reading the word of God, 
 and causing it to he read in your family. ' Search the Scriptures, for 
 in them ye think ye have eternal life,' is a precept of our hlessed Lord ; 
 and parents are in a peculiar manner bound to instruct their children in 
 the knowledge of the word of God. Family prayer is a duty as ahso- 
 lutely necessary as reading the word of God ; for prayer is an excellent 
 means to render reading effectual." 
 
 It were well that these counsels were remembered in other families 
 besides those of Pitcairn. The happy results of this practical teaching 
 have been evidenced in the calm and peaceful deaths of many of the 
 inhabitants, whose last moments have been crowned with triumph and 
 joy. The hymnology of the Christian church has also, we consider, 
 received a rich addition in a hymn in which Mr. Nobbs has embodied the 
 dying sentiments of one of the islanders. 
 
 "I know on this earth my Redeemer shall stand, 
 
 And these eyes, though now dim, shall his glories hehold; 
 My powers so reduced shall with knowledge expand, 
 
 And this heart throb with rapture, which now beats so cold. 
 His voice I shall hear, and in accents divine, 
 
 Shall I, then made worthy, a welcome receive; 
 la his presence to dwell, 'twill for ever be mine, 
 
 I believe — I believe. 
 
A \ D I X S T K U C T I X . " 161 
 
 This tlicn is my hope, and I am not deceived, 
 
 On the word of my God I can fully depend; 
 I know by the Spirit on whom I've believed, 
 
 That he will support and console to the end. 
 Immanuel's death has Jehovah appeased, 
 
 That death on the cross did my ransom achieve ; 
 That death is my passport when I am released; 
 
 I believe — I believe; yes, I firmly believe." 
 
 Tlio future of Pitcaim's island is an interesting problem ; but it is not 
 within our province to discuss it, nor to anticipate those changes in their 
 condition which it is feared must ensue from the increase of their popu- 
 lation, compelling them ere long to seek another habitation. 
 
 The purpose which we had in view when we commenced these images 
 has now been accomplished. We proposed to show the moral chemistry 
 of God, extracting good out of evil; and all must admit that the narrative 
 before us has most satisfactorily demonstrated this. The chemist, after 
 dropping his mixture into a dark fluid, sees at first fermentation ensue, 
 and then out of the elements a beautiful snow-white colour emerges. So 
 was it in this remarkable spot. Murderers, adulterers, rebels — sucli 
 were the parents of these islanders, and such, too, was John Adams him- 
 self; but he was washed, he was sanctified, and he was justified in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus, and hj the Spirit of our God ; and the instru- 
 mentality employed, too, was the Bible. 
 
 "We shall but weaken the force of our story — for has it not all the 
 romance of one? — by any extended application. Yet one word maybe 
 said in conclusion. Society has many evils, and individual life has many 
 trials, for both of which remedies complex and costly have been offered. 
 But do we not carry with us the conviction of every reader when we say, 
 that after the lesson Pitcairn affords us, all we want to make us prosper- 
 ous as a nation and happy in our own spuls is to have our institutions 
 based upon the Scriptures, and our hearts purified by their counsels? 
 All of us, indeed, may learn a good lesson from Pitcairn. 
 11 
 
162 PORTFOLIO or ENTEKTAINMENT 
 
 flrc 5^Ininl)itcl( 6\\tsi anlt Un ttow gtbtors. 
 
 N the course of his ministry on earth, the Lord Jesus 
 Christ received an invitation to "take meat" with a 
 Pharisee and his friends. lie complied; and wliile re- 
 clining at the table, another, an uninvited, guest entered 
 - " a ^Yoman," it is said by special emphasis, who 
 :^'^\ ^^ " was a sinner." 
 It is easy to be imagined that every eye was turned towards this sinful 
 woman, thus intruding within the precints of sanctity, with amazement 
 and indignation. Every eye ! No, we are wrong. There was One who 
 seeth not as man seeth ; and by him was discerned that in the approach- 
 ing intruder which lighted up iiis eye with benevolence and mercy. 
 Look up, weeping penitent ; he smiles ! and when Jesus smiles, it 
 matters little who frowns ! 
 
 Look up ! How can she look up, whoso heart is bowed down with 
 guilt and grief ? She did not look up; but hurrying to the Saviour's 
 feet, she cast herself there. It may be that murmurs of disapprobation, 
 contempt, and disgust, broke from the lips of the spectators; but, little 
 heeding them, she thought only of the Great Master before whom she 
 knelt. To her perceptions, he only was present — the object of her 
 adoring faith; the sinless One, but "the friend of sinners;" and she — 
 was she not a sinner? Was ho not her friend, then? Surely yes, or 
 why was she there ? 
 
 "With trembling hands and a throbbing heart, the sinner embraced the 
 feet which were thereafter to be nailed to the cross; she "washed them 
 with her tears, and wiped them with her hair." Then, taking from her 
 bosom a box of rich and costly, perfume, she anointed his feet and kissed 
 them. 
 
 The Pharisee looked on in silent astonishment. " If this man were a 
 
AND IXSTRUCTION. 1G3 
 
 prophet," thouLjlit he, "ho would know wliat manner of woman this is, 
 and would not sufier her to touch him ; for she is a sinner." His thoughts 
 were interrupted hy a voice which we may well conceive thrilled through 
 the souls of those who heard it, with mingled sweetness and authority, for 
 " never man spake like this man" — this Jesus. 
 
 " Simon, I have somewhat to say to thee : — There was a certain credi- 
 tor had two debtors; the one owed him five hundred pence, and the 
 other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them 
 both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will love him most." 
 
 The reply was natural and reasonable: — "I suppose," said he, "that 
 he to whom he forgave most." 
 
 "Thou hast rightly judged," said Jesus; and turning to the woman, 
 he continued his address to the Pharisee: — "Simon, seest thou this 
 woman ? I entered into thine house ; thou gavest me no water for my 
 feet ; but she hath washed my feet with her tears, and wiped them with 
 the hairs of Iier head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this woman, since 
 the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil 
 thou didst not anoint; but this woman hath anointed my feet with oint- 
 ment. Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are many, are for- 
 given, for she loved much ; but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth 
 little." Then speaking to the penitent, he said, " Thy sins are forgiven." 
 
 Then began the assembled guests to say one to another: — "Who is 
 this, that forgiveth sins also?" And here the narrative leaves them. 
 Here, too, we leave them, to ponder over the lessons which it teaches. 
 
 For instance, we may learn from it, if we will, what God is in relation 
 to us; and what we are in relation to him: he is a creditor — we are 
 debtors. In other words — we are sinners. 
 
 Wo will admit, reader, for the sake of argument, that you are not au 
 enormous transgressor, that you have committed no flagrant crimes, that 
 you have all your life long acted -svith becoming rectitude towards your 
 fellows; and that you have not, by any outward act of immorality and 
 rebellion, exhibited your disobedience and dislike to your Maker. Wliat 
 
164 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEKTAIXMEXT 
 
 tlicu? "\\Tay just this; you Leave not showu yourself, as you suppose, a 
 great sinner ; but are you not a sinner? Look back througb the past; 
 has there been no deviation from the path of rectitude? — no sin 
 cherislied in the heart? — no inordinate attachment to some other object, 
 in disparagement of tlie chiims of Him whose requirement is, " Thou 
 shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy might, with 
 all thy soul, and with all thy strength?" — no rebellings against his 
 government, and his dealings towards you iii providence? However 
 momentary the wavering, then, and apparently slight the departure from 
 the narrow and straight line of obedience, and however strong the tempta- 
 tion which has drawn you astray, you are a sinner; and your character, 
 as such, is fixed. 
 
 We may learn, too, that a sinner has no means in himself of avoiding 
 or escaping the consequences of sin ; the debtor has uotliing wherewith 
 to pay. That this is the case will appear if we bear in mind that we 
 owe to God a whole life of perfect obedience ; and that failing in this 
 obedience in one instance, we cannot make up for the failure by future 
 efforts. There is nothing strange in this: the principle is recognized in 
 our dealings with each other. You have a servant, to whom you intrust 
 property. Say that he is honest in general ; but, just once, temptation 
 overcomes him, and he robs you. Will his partial integrity, or his care 
 and integrity ever after that lapse, restore to you what he has taken 
 away, or to himself the character which he previously deserved ? As- 
 suredly not ; he was bound to be ever honest, and the deficiency remains 
 unprovided for. 
 
 It is here that the gospel steps in with its announcement of pardon to 
 the helpless sinner — of relief to the bankrupt debtor. " When they had 
 nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both." " God so loved the 
 world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on 
 him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his 
 Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through 
 him might be saved." 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 165 
 
 But then it rests -u-ith God to decide lioiv sin shall be forgiven ; just in 
 the same waj- that a creditor is entitled to dictate the medium through 
 which he is willing to forego and blot out his claim on an insolvent 
 debtor. The medium that God has appointed for the forgiveness of sin, 
 is the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the condition on the 
 sinner's part is that of faith in Christ. "JSTeitheris there salvation in 
 any other; for there is none other name given under heaven whereby we 
 can be saved." " lie that helieveth on him is not condemned; but he 
 that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in 
 the name of the only begotten Son of God." 
 
 But there is one consideration which must not be lost sight of. When 
 sin is compared to a debt, sinners to debtors, and God is represented as 
 a, creditor, the language implies more than is understood in a monc}- 
 transaction between man and man. A debt may be contracted, and a 
 debtor become insolvent, without stain on his character for uprightness 
 and integrity; and in this case, without prejudice to moral ju>tice, the 
 creditor may forgive the debt without an equivalent paid. It is not so 
 with sin and the sinner. Sin is the transgression of God's law, and 
 Divine justice requires satisfaction ; before the sinner can be pardoned, 
 justice must be satisfied ; and how shall this be accomplished? Hear the 
 language of an apostle : " For when we were yet without strength, in 
 due time, Christ died for the ungodly." "He is the ^propitiation for our 
 sins." "Well, then, may the pardoned sinner exclaim in grateful adora- 
 tion and love, " 0, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and know- 
 ledge of God! IIow unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past 
 finding out." 
 
 This, then, is the way of God's own appointment — a way by which 
 he can be just and the justifier of the ungodly. This is the salvation of 
 the gospel. It follows, then, that the forgiveness of sin is all of grace. 
 There was no obligation laid upon the creditor to forgive the two debtors. 
 He might have insisted on their imprisonment till their debts were paid. 
 
166 PORTFOLIO OF EKTERTAINMENT 
 
 or till death released them from his power. So it is with God in the 
 redemption of a ruined world. 
 
 And if forgiveness he. all of grace, then are all sinners on the same level 
 of incapacity on the one hand, and obligation on the other. Of the 
 debtors, one owed fifty, and the other five hundred pence ; but they were 
 bankrupt, and the creditor frankly forgave them both. The obligation 
 to pay was the same — the inability the same — the mercy extended the 
 same. Let not then the Pharisee exult over " the woman that was a 
 sinner." Boasting is excluded. Grace alone is exalted. 
 
 Reader, how much owest thou thy Lord ? How much for daily 
 mercies ? How much for preserving care ? How much for forbearance 
 in spite of ten thousand provocations ? How much for sins wilfully com- 
 mitted since you knew of his merciful designs? Is it fifty pence? is it 
 five hundred ? 
 
 Are you able to pay ? Alas ! you, in common with every sinner, are 
 bankrupt. Already the thunders of Divine wrath are heard ; the crisis 
 is approaching ; the debt is accumulating. Is there no hope ? . . . 
 "And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both." 
 " There is forgiveness with thee that thou mayest be feared." "Able to 
 save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him." " Him that 
 cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." And He against whom the 
 sinner has rebelled is the merciful One, who raises the prostrate penitent, 
 and says, "Thv sins are forgiven thee." 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. Itj7 
 
 %\i l0rb IjiUIr llctii of tljtt. 
 
 "Tbe Lord hath need of thee!" — It fell 
 
 Upon a worldling's ear, 
 As in the flush of youth he dashed 
 
 Along his wild career ! 
 Like Saul of Tarsus, with affright 
 He saw his Maker's presence bright; 
 Then lowly bent before his sight, 
 
 " Speak — let thy servant hear !" 
 
 " Lift up thine eyes upon the fields, 
 
 The whitening harvest see ! 
 There as the labourers are few 
 
 The Lord hath need of thee ! 
 Go forth with speed — the work is great, 
 And early must thou toil and late, 
 But glory, ' an eternal weight,' 
 
 Thy full reward shall be." 
 
 The Lord hath need of him ! — he rose 
 
 And did his high behest; 
 Eight onward to the mighty task 
 
 With earnest zeal he prest ! 
 He caused the widow's heart to glow, 
 A hundred homes he cheered — and lo ! 
 The stricken sons of crime and woe 
 
 Arose and called him blest I 
 
 Through all life's changeful day he toils, 
 
 Till in its evening dim. 
 There came a messenger of love, 
 
 ( ! not a tyrant grim I ) 
 
168 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAIXJIENT 
 
 Who told him in fair mansions bright, 
 Beyond his soaring fancy's flight, 
 In a sweet Paradise of light, 
 The Lord hath need of him. 
 
 Dear reader ! doth thy heart desire 
 
 To be as blest as he? 
 Know, old or young, or rich or poor, 
 
 Whate'er thy state may be. 
 Ere "come up hither" soundeth near, 
 Like heaven's sweet music on thine ear, 
 Now in his own wide harvest here. 
 
 The Lord hath need of thee. 
 
 Jlustr;itions of f tlf-Cflnqwtst. 
 
 '^7)\ 
 
 N Dr. Ilamiltou's admirable memoir of Eicharcl Wil- 
 liams, the surgeon missionary to Patagonia, there occurs 
 a remarkable illustration of the importance of self-denial 
 as a means of growth in the divine life. The incident iu 
 question has particular claims upon the attention of 
 young men. It is, however, interesting to all, for, 
 although we share the doctor's estimate of the habit of tobacco-smoking, 
 it is not as a lesson against that practice that we introduce the anecdote, 
 but as a proof of the need, if we would be happy and consistent Chris- 
 tians, of our putting away anything, however lawful under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances, which interferes with our progress in holiness. 
 
 " Some," says the doctor, " may regard the homely details of the fol- 
 lowing passage as a dreadful descent. We have no such feeling. It is 
 
AND INSTUl'CTIUX. 1G9 
 
 in sucli contests that the reality of men's faitli, and tlie value of their 
 'frames' are tested. And the Christianit}-, however rapturous, which has 
 never renounced a besetting sin, nor conquered a bad habit, is too like 
 the patriotism which is confined to toasts and national melodies; or tlio 
 filial piety which, offering fond words and embraces in lieu of solid ser- 
 vices, tries to be at once dutiful and self-indulgent. Mr. Williams was 
 honest. He believed that it was God's will that he should give up a 
 certain gratification; and, though some would have tried to evade the 
 sacrifice, tliougli the}- would have oftered confessions of their own weak- 
 ness, or high-flown protestations of their general devotedness, in lieu of 
 this particular obedience, it was not thus deceitfully that he dealt with 
 his Heavenly Father and with himself 
 
 "jSTor should we be sorry if Mr. "Williams's example should find imita- 
 tors amongst our readers. It is true that Dr. Parr and Robert Ilall were 
 smokers. It is true that many good men are fond of the ' naughty foreio-u 
 weed,' and that Rali)h Erskine 'spiritualised' it. And it may be true 
 that under its influence the spirits are serene, the temper mild, and the 
 entire man in a state of comfortable self-complacency. But we prefer the 
 temper which is independent of tobacco ; and we fear that in its self-com- 
 placency there is something illusive. At least we have known friends 
 who, under its influence, fancied themselves far up Parnassus, but when 
 the fi)g cleared away, it proved only a spur of the mountain; and 
 although, among our college companions, we remember clever men who 
 smoked, whilst their duller neighbours studied; and although, in the 
 midst of the meerschaum, they used to csp}- gigantic figures, which they 
 hailed as their own glorious future ; now that the ' morgana' has melted 
 there is a sad contrast -between the cloudy colossus and the slip-shod 
 original from which it was projected, and into which the stern-dav-lio-ht 
 has resolved it again. 
 
 "At all events a minister, and much more a missionary, should deem 
 himself a soldier; and the less dependent he is on these time-wastin<>- 
 enjoyments, the more lightly will he march, and the more ready will he 
 
170 PORTFOLIO OF I X T K U T A 1 K Sr E ^' T 
 
 be for instant action. Besides, a soldier nuist endure hardness. It is 
 good for a man's Cliristianity to be the victor, even in such a contest as 
 tlie battle with tobacco. Every success makes him a stronger and a 
 happier man ; yes, and a great deal richer. In this warfare there is 
 always prize-money. And if the reader is a lover of books, or if, with a 
 most benevolent heart, he is always lamenting his empt}- hand, let him 
 attack and spoil his eneni}-. The cigar-ease will soon fill a handsome 
 book-case; and were the snuff-box of the British churches converted into 
 a box of charity, it would maintain all our missionaries, and would soon 
 pay the debts of our chapels and schools." 
 
 Then follows this extract from Mr. Williams's journal : — 
 "Saturday, Oct. 2G. — This has been a day ever to be remembered. 
 The light of the Lord's countenance has broken upon me, after having 
 severely felt that clouds of darkness were around me. For more than a 
 month before leaving England, I had given up the practice of smoking 
 and taking snuft'. The former habit I had practised for seven or eight 
 years ; the latter only occasionally-. In fact, it was in consequence of 
 leaving off smoking that I had recourse to a pinch as- an occasional sub- 
 stitute. At various times I have been under strong impressions that I 
 ought to leave it off, and have felt dissatisfied with myself for the self- 
 indulgence. But the cravings after it were become so strong, and the 
 will of the flesh so urgently demanded it, that it was no easy task to over- 
 come the propensity-. There is a charm in tobacco powerful!}- beguiling 
 to the senses. Whether this arises from its soothing and sedative quality, 
 or from its being generally- associated with self-indulgence — serving as 
 a plea for idleness, and for a general relaxation of the whole man, body 
 and mind — certain it is, tliat tobacco has the power of enslaving its 
 votaries to a remarkable degree. Iso one has ever been more enslaved 
 than I have been; yet many times has my conscience smitten me; and 
 frequentl}', whilst in the act of smoking, I have been obliged to lay the 
 pipe aside. At times I thonght I would leave it off altogether; accord- 
 ingly, I have given away or burnt the stock of tobacco I had in hand. 
 
AXD IXSTRrCTIOX. 171 
 
 broken my pipes, and for days cssaj-cd to do without it. Wliat cravings 
 — what a sense of bereavement have I folt ! Xone but an old smoker 
 can have any idea of my miserable longings. I have cn\ied the hodnian 
 and the meanest person with his short black pipe. The very perfume 
 was a treat — to inhale it a respite. Painful were the efforts thus made. 
 A toothache, some bodily disease, or the persuasions of others, induced 
 a renewal of the habit, and its bond became stronger than ever. But 
 the fiat had gone forth, ' Crucify the flesh with its aficctions and lusts ;' 
 and, blessed be God, there was One in me greater than all that were 
 against me. Conscience became more and more severe upon me. At 
 length I resolved to leave it oft", and hapjiily succeeded without experi- 
 encing any uncomfortable effects. This was six weeks before leaving 
 England. During that time I kept my firm resolution, though, in lieu 
 of smoking, I had recourse to snuff". Some of my friends, who thought 
 I was going to unnecessary lengths of self-denial, would put up for me, 
 amongst the ecjuipments for ray voyage, both tobacco, cigars, and a 
 canister of snuff", and they made me promise to purchase a meerschaum. 
 Well, I thought, circumstances may possibly be such as to render it 
 desirable to have them ; so I yielded to their wish. On board I could not 
 resist the temptation of taking a cigar — such was my weakness; giving 
 them freely away, and smoking them daily, my stock was soon exhausted ; 
 but all the cravings for tobacco were re-acquired. I took to the meer- 
 Bcliaum; but with the indulgence came' the condemnation. My con- 
 science would not allow me to continue ; so I gave the canister of snuif 
 to the captain of the ship, and reserved only a small c|uantity. Captain 
 Cooper likewise had my meerschaum, on condition of my not requirino- 
 it again. Three or four days passed without having recourse to him for 
 it, but never did I suff"er such cravings after it. My stomach became 
 aff'ectcd, and my spirits so depressed that I was compelled to ask for it 
 again. With a sense of great bodily relief and comfort, I smoked it; 
 but, alas ! my condemnation was great. Ilurriedly openiug a book in 
 my hand, the question of the Tsalmist was presented to my eye. 'Lord, 
 
172 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF EXTERTAISMENT 
 
 who shall abide in thy tabernacle? who shall dwell in thy holy hill? lie 
 that sweareth to his own hurt and chanyeth not.' The?e words were 
 applied to my mind most forcibly. I was condemned. But now I saw 
 my duty; and sutler what I might, I resolved to give np the practice in 
 all its forms. Having sought mercy and forgiveness with the Lord, and 
 liis grace to help me, I gave away, in good earnest, all my tobacco, my 
 pipe, and my suufi-box, and I threw overboard the small quantity of 
 snuff I had reserved. Thus a complete riddance was effected." 
 
 f'ljt SfjtptorHli. 
 
 N a large old-fashioned house, standing in beautiful 
 grounds about half a mile from the sea-shore, there lived 
 a good and charitable widow lady and her only sou. 
 This sou was the only one left to her of six children, with 
 whom at different ages she had been called to part; and 
 on Edward, the sole treasure saved from the household 
 wreck, her affections centred with all the fervour of a very loving heart. 
 She did not show her love, however, as some mothers show it, by indulg- 
 ing the boy in every wayward fanc}', and leading him to suppose that 
 the world was made for him ; but he was trained carefully, guided wisely, 
 tenderly, and firmly, and educated for heaven. 
 
 I cannot tell my readers the depths of that widow's love. lie was 
 not merely her only son, but he was a good, obedient, and loving child, 
 and amid all the sad memories of the past, she would lift uji her soul in 
 thankful, joyful hope, that this child was God's child, and that they would 
 pass eternity together. And so they lived in the world, not unto them- 
 Beh'cs, but unto God. When the eye of the poor saw them, it blessed 
 
AND IXSTRUCTION. 173 
 
 them. One dull afternoon, however, in autnnin, when the ISToveraber 
 winds were out, and the distant sea roared fearfully, the mother and son 
 sat in the dim twilight. The widow's ejcs were full of tears, and not 
 the pressure of the kind hand she held could comfort her aching heart — 
 for the wind and waves had a recalling voice. It reminded her of one 
 dear child, who lay buried in an ocean grave. 
 
 "There is many a sorrowful wife and mother to-night, my Edward," 
 she said mournfully; " God protect those who travel on the deep !" 
 
 " lie is there, mother, as well as here," said the youth ; and again they 
 sat silently musing. At this moment the old butler entered ; his quiet 
 face wore an anxious expression as he said : "Ma'am, there is a ship just 
 struck on the sands, almost in front of our house. The life-boat is going 
 
 off, and I thought may be, Mr. Edward" . But Edward had sprung 
 
 up, and looking for the consent which he was sure to find in his mother's 
 face, he was soon on his way to the beach. 
 
 "And I will go too," said the widow, as, wrapping herself in her dread- 
 nought cloak, she and the old butler followed the rapid steps of the 
 onl}^ son. 
 
 By the time they reached the beach, twilight had merged into night. 
 Xow and then the clouds, as they rolled in heavy masses over the sk3\ 
 unveiled the moon which had just risen, but it was onlj' for a moment, 
 and seemed but to make the darkness more intense. The billows dashed 
 with a deafening noise on the shingly beach, and drowned the voices of 
 the men as they shouted hopefully to the crew of the distant ship, or 
 encouraged the life-boat's men to exertions for the perishing ones. Tiie 
 life-boat was manned at last, and as it put off, the moon's light showed 
 to those on the shore that it looked but a featlier on tlie waves. Now it 
 was lost to view; now it appeared again ; now it noared the vessel ; and, 
 in a momentary hush, tlie cry and wail of soriow was cliaiiged for one of 
 gratitude and joy. And now the boat was ploughing its way through 
 the breakers, when a heavy sea, rushing forward with tlcstruetive violence, 
 sv.'cpt it as a toy to the shore, and such cries of mortal agony mingled 
 
174 PORTFOLIO OF EXTEllTAIXMEXT 
 
 with the upi-oar of nature as j'ou must have heard to believe. "Lost! 
 lost!" said those ou shore; hut not so; many a stout-hearted seaman 
 plunged into the surf, and succeeded in rescuing all but one. When the 
 captain himself, a good swimmer, reported the number of the crew, one 
 was missing — an orphan lad, whose father, the pilot, had died upon the 
 passage. "What should be done? Those capable of reflection stood 
 irresolute, when, during a hush of the wind, a faint shrill crj^ was heard, 
 "Save me;" and at the same moment a speck — it miglit be a human 
 fi)rm — it miglit be a fragment of the vessel — was discernible in the 
 moon-beam. But hearts and bodies were now alike faint, and no one 
 stirred. Perhaps it might enter into the hearts of some that it was but 
 a lad, a friendless lad, for whom no one would mourn. Be that as it 
 may, the boy on the billows was within a few moments of eternity, when 
 Edward stepped forward. 
 
 " Mother, I must save that boy," he said ; " only, without j'our blessing 
 and your consent I will not venture." 
 
 The mother's heart beat, and wlio can wonder that she laid a detaining 
 baud on the young arm. 
 
 "Motlier, Ids soul is as precious in God's sight as that of your son — 
 speak l)nt the word." 
 
 " Go," !ihe said, " and God be with you ;" and in a moment he was in 
 tlie surf lie was a tall, powerful, atlilctic youth; but at the moment of 
 being borne away by the retreating billows, it was as though the sea 
 played with him, as he might have played with a shuttlecock. After a 
 few minutes of suspense, be and his insensible charge were washed ashore, 
 both pale and motionless. The friendless child was spared ; but alas ! 
 the only child — he on whom the widow's lieart had cast anchor so firmly 
 was taken. Still she did not murmur; amid nature's agony, she recalled 
 her child's last words — "His soul is as precious in God's sight as mine;" 
 and she added, "Yes, and perhaps not so fit for his presence." 
 
 There was a long mournful procession to the church-yard, a few days 
 after the shipwreck. Stalwart fishermen, strong-built sailors, village 
 
A X D I N S T R U C T I X . 175 
 
 matrons, and cottage maidens, followcMl the salile train, and many a tear 
 bedewed the bronzed (■h''('k wiiich liad never known its passage there 
 before. 
 
 The orphan boy thus marvellously saveil, was now taken to the 
 widow's childless home, and he was to her as a son — never more to know 
 the hardships and the perils of a sailor's life — never more to endure the 
 rough handling of the world, or, during early youth, its sharp temptations. 
 
 The prayers, the hopes, the labours of the widow were now directed 
 to the friendless one. Year after year passed awa^-, with all its sad recol- 
 lections and its anxious thoughts for the future ; and as the lad grew up 
 to manhood, each year added to the weight of his obligation. There was 
 uo response of gratitude and love, liowever, in the wandering heart. Xot 
 the knowledge that to save his life the mother had given uplier so7i, her 
 own and only son — that she had taken him, an orphan and helpless lad, 
 to her own home — had fed, clothed, and instructed him — awoke one 
 feeling of duty or obedience. His life was but the story of the prodigal 
 — her forgiving love on his return, an imitation of Ilini whom she desired 
 to serve ; but his were the prodigal's sins without any true and lasting 
 repentance, and he brought her gve^* hairs with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 And now we would, from this illustration of the divine love — faint 
 indeed and imperfect as all illustrations of the divine love must be — 
 ask you, reader, what feature in the orphan's character strikes you with 
 the greatest horror: I think I hear you say, ingratitude, standing as it 
 does in such strong contrast with the love and sacrifice of the noble- 
 hearted mother, who, for the stranger lad, murmured not at the loss of 
 her earthly all. Yet there is not a sinner upon God's earth who is not, 
 in his impenitent state, acting towards God as the boy acted to his 
 deliverer. God gave his Son for you, in order to save you from making 
 shipwreck of your soul ; and how do you requite him? He loadeth you 
 with benefits, he would bring you to all the safety and comfort of a 
 father's house; and even while sinners and aliens, Christ died for^ou. 
 But there is no just parallel between the love of man to mau, and the 
 
17G 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMKNT 
 
 lovo of the Saviour to us. If such be his love to yon, then is it too much 
 that he asks vou for a child's heart, a child's service, a child's aflection? 
 Do not read the story as one not intended for you, hut listen to the 
 words which in tenderness and pathos can be equalled by those of no 
 earthly parent — " ily son, give me thine heart;" "wilt thou not cry 
 unto me from this time — My father, thou art the guide of my youth?" 
 
 ^Irc ^torarfr |Ul)ul!c^ bir ^ CHllr. 
 
 J^'^iL^\ T was a railway excursion day, and the carnages were 
 ''S'lrK nearly full, when a lady, evidently in ill-health, entered, 
 -''-^^W>^ leading a little son of four or five years. She paused and 
 'W|i-^ looked around in vain for a vacant seat. The gentleman 
 ^^^g,L^_- by my side, perceiving her embarrassment, sprang to his 
 "^ '^'^\ ^ feet and politely offered his seat, which was accepted 
 with a grateful acknowledgment. She was about to take the little boy 
 in lier arms, when a gentleman on the opjiosite side extended his hands, 
 saying, with a winning smile, " Come here, my boy, come and sit down 
 ujion my knee. I am better able to hold you than your mother is." The 
 child looked up for his mother's consent, and then joyfully sprang to the 
 seat so kindly offered. For some few moments the gentleman amused 
 himself by asking the child all manner of questions, drawing out his 
 curious ideas, and listening with satisfaction to his artless replies. Soon, 
 however, his attention was drawn to an article in the paper he had just 
 laid aside, and giving the boy some sweetmeats, he entered into an 
 earnest political discussion with another gentleman by h.is side. At first 
 it seemed they only sought amusement, and jokes and laughter were 
 
A X D 1 N S T R I" C T I \ . I i i 
 
 frequently intermingled with argunient. But the contest gradiuilly waxed 
 stronger, until at length jokes were exchanged for profanity. 
 
 The boy had been very happy with his new friend, but when the first 
 profane word was uttered, he looked up with astonishment. Tears 
 gathered in his large black ej-es, and laying the watch carefully aside, 
 which had been given to him by the gentleman for his amusement, he 
 slipped quietly to the floor, and fled to his mother. 
 
 " Where are you going, my dear ?" exclaimed the gentleman, as he 
 saw him moving oif. "Come back, my boy, come back, I thought you 
 were very happy a few moments since, what is the matter now ? Come, 
 you are a fine little fellow, come and see what I can find for you in my 
 jjocket." But the boy clung to his mother, utterly refusing the extended 
 hand. 
 
 "Well, now," exclaimed the gentleman, with evident chagrin, "this is 
 very strange. I do not understand it. Come, my boy, tell me why you 
 left me?" 
 
 " Tell the gentleman, my dear," said his mother, encouragingly, " why 
 you do not wish to sit with him." 
 
 "Because," said he, as he straightened himself back, and summoned 
 all his resolution for the efibrt, " the Bible says we must not sit in the 
 seat of the scorner." 
 
 The gentleman looked confounded. For a moment the blood rushed 
 to his high expansive brow, and I thought he was angry. The mother 
 was also surprised. She had not expected such a reply. But the man 
 instantly regained his composure, and pleasantly said, "I hope you do 
 not call me a scorner." The boy leaned his head upon his mother's 
 shoulder, but made no reply. " Come, tell mo," continued he, " why do 
 you call me a scorner?" The child looked up and simply but earnestly' 
 said, while a large tear stole quietly down his cheek, "I don't like, sir, 
 to hear you swear so !" 
 
 "Oh! that is it, is it? Well," continued he, as the mother pressed 
 her son to her bosom, and bowed her head to hide the tears which were 
 12 
 
178 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 starting to her owu ej-es ; " come back and sit with me, and I promise 
 you I will never swear again." 
 
 "Won't you?" asked the child earnestly, "then I shall love you very 
 much indeed." Saying this, he allowed the gentleman again to place 
 him on his knee ; but it was plainly to be seen that he did not go back 
 with the joyful ness with which he had at first taken the seat. The gen- 
 tleman saw this. He felt that he had lowered himself in tlie esteem of 
 that innocent and noble-minded boy. The thought evidently gave him 
 pain. And he did all he could to efface from his mind the unpleasant 
 impression. 
 
 In ex2>lanation of this affecting scene, his mother said it was her cus- 
 tom to read a chapter in the Bible every morning to her son, explaining 
 it as she could, and then pray with him. That morning she had read 
 the first Psalm, and when explaining to him the character of a scorner, 
 among other vices she had mentioned profanity. Not fully comprehend- 
 ing the subject, but resolved at all events to do right, he thought it was 
 really a sinful act to sit for one moment with a man who had taken 
 God's name in vain. "When, when, will mothers realize the vast 
 amount of influence thej' are capable of exerting over their children ? 
 "When will they realize the strength and pennanence of those impressions 
 received in childhood ? 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 
 
 179 
 
 %U CliiUrtn's Slallt. 
 
 T was a fine moroing towards the middle of May, and 
 Editli, Willy, and Grace had faces as bright and sunny 
 as the blue May sky, for this was to be a gala day with 
 them, being the birth-day of their dear grandpapa at 
 G , which they were to spend with hira, not return- 
 ing until noon next day. It was a great treat in pros- 
 pect, for their grandpapa was dearly beloved bj' all the children, and his 
 house, too, was quite a museum of curiosities. It was a long walk, and 
 there was some doubt whether Grace, the youngest of the three, could 
 accomplish it; but she was so sure that she could, and Edith and "Willy 
 BO anxious for the little sister's company-, tliat permission was at last 
 giv'en. 
 
 It would soon be time to get ready, their mamma said ; and they must 
 set off before the heat of the sun commenced. At this they looked very 
 glad, and promised to be good and obedient. Jane, the nurse, should 
 take them, and Edith was to be the mother for the day. She was two 
 years older than AVilly, and more than four years older than Grace. " 0, 
 Edith will take great care of us," the little ones said, "when we are 
 away." 
 
 Eut a cloud came over all this joy, for at that very moment of its 
 height, nurse came down and said that baby was ill. Nurse could not 
 leave mamma with a sick baby, that was certain ; and the little faces, 
 lately so glad, became suddenly very grave. 
 
 " They know the way," said the father, pitying the children in their 
 disappointment; "and they will scarcely have need to go into the town 
 at all ; 0, let them go alone." 
 The mother looked doubtful. 
 " We know the wav, mamma ; it is such a straight road we cauuot 
 
180 PORTFOLIO OF EXTERTAIXJIENT 
 
 miss it," said Editli. " ^Vhcn once we leave the little lane, it is quite a 
 straiglit road yon know to tlie town." 
 
 "I think thej maj- be trusted," said the father; "Edith is more than 
 eleven years old, and if she will only "keep to the high road, I have no 
 fear but that they will reach their grandpapa's house in safety-." 
 
 So the children were dressed, and after many cautious had been given 
 they set out on their jouruey. 
 
 " We are Hke pilgrims," said Willy, as he cut a hazel twig with his 
 new knife. "Here, Gracie, is a staff for you, and I will have another. 
 You are ' Great Heart,' Edith, and I don't thiuk you need one. Your 
 parasol is a iiue shield for you ; go you first, and Christian and Hopeful 
 will follow." 
 
 So they walked cheerfully on. The morning was very warm ; there 
 had been a hcav}- dew quite early, but that was fast disappearing, and 
 the road was dusty. 
 
 "It is so very straiglit and tiresome!" said Willy. "The meadow 
 path, and through Deepdene, would be more cool and pleasant;" and he 
 sighed. Poor little pilgrim, like many other travellers he expected the 
 straight way to be an easy way; but that was not promised. Grace 
 was very happy; her little feet soon grew weary it is true, but she 
 found many pretty things ou the road. Tbe flowers were bright 
 and lovely, and she would fain have lingered to pluck them, but her 
 mamma had warned them that if they loitered on the road, the noon-day 
 sun with its scorching heat would make them faint and tired; so she 
 looked at the bright forget-me-not with its golden eye, sparkling by the 
 little way-side stream, but she did not stop to pluck it. She admired the 
 delicate veronica, or speedwell, ou the hedge-rows; but she believed 
 Edith when she told her that it would quickly fade in her hand, and that 
 it was not worth the trouble of gathering. Yet she enjoyed the flowers; 
 thoy helped her on her journey, she said, and caused her to lift up her 
 little heart to the Father in heaven who made them all. 
 
 Willy, in the meantime, was running and capering about, now chasing 
 
AND I \ S T R r C T I X . 181 
 
 the butterflies, now clearing some little ditcli to gather prettier flowers in 
 the field than lie found on the road side. 
 
 " I shall meet you at the white gate," he said, merrily, as he peeped at 
 them over the low hedge which divided them ; " the grass is so cool 
 and nice to the feet; what a pity you cannot jump over and walk 
 with me." 
 
 "But you are out of the road, Willy," said Edith, in a warning tone. 
 "Remember we promised not to leave the high road." 
 
 "Do you call this leaving it?" said he; "I shall not lose sight of you ; 
 I am only on one side of the hedge and j-ou on another, and I suppose 
 they both lead the same way." 
 
 "Yes, Willy, but it is not the ivay mamma told us to go. 0, come 
 back — we sliall soon be there." 
 
 " I shall do no such thing," was the reply; "I am going through the 
 plantation, and I will meet you below the toll-gate. Good-bye;" and 
 away he ran. 
 
 lie was not content Avith going astray himself, but turning round, 
 beckoned to Grace. 
 
 " Grace, dear, I see some cows coming along the road ; you don't like 
 cows — come with me — this is the safest way — come." 
 
 Grace did not speak ; she was afraid of the cattle ; she was tired of the 
 dusty road, and she was rca<ly to yield. 
 
 " This is a far better wa}-," urged her brother, " and it is not like going 
 round. It is just as straight, nearly so at least, as the other; so come, 
 Gracie." 
 
 Edith had not interrupted him \cA. At length she said: "I do not 
 know that this road of which you speak is unsafe; but I know that 
 mamma said, ' The high road is the only way yov\ must take.' If anotlicr 
 ran alongside of this, and I could see it all the time, I would not take it, 
 because only the way mamma tells us can be right for us to go." 
 
 Willy laughed scornfully. "You are not always so obedient, Edith." 
 " I am not, and this is wh}- I would be so now; I never find my own 
 
182 PORTFOLIO OF EKTERTAINMENT 
 
 way cuds well; neither will you. Now, Gracie, give me your hand, 
 darling, the cows will not hurt us ; nothing can really hurt us if we trust 
 God and obey him. I should not be sure that he would take care of us 
 in the wood, but I am quite sure he will here." 
 
 Very fast beat the young hearts though, as at this moment one of the 
 cows began to plunge and kick, lash its tail, and butt violently with, 
 its horns, for some cruel boys had been teasing it. At that moment, 
 however, a sturdy woodman, who was felling trees in the belt of planta- 
 tion, came along, and standing before the frightened children, protected 
 them until the danger was over, when the}' again went on their way with 
 joy. Tired they were, and warm and fairit when the}- arrived at the gate 
 where Willy had promised to meet them ; but Willy was not there. 
 They called and waited, and then called again, until a distant clock 
 striking twelve, they remembered that their grandpapa would be anxious, 
 and with a sad heart Edith determined to go on. They had no further 
 accident or adventure, and in a quarter of an hour more they arrived at 
 the gate of their grandpapa's house. The kind, grey-headed old man 
 was there to welcome them with a smile of love and tenderness ; and as 
 they sat in his cool parlour and partook of the simple repast he had 
 prepared, they felt quite repaid. The little white dresses had not been 
 soiled by the way, and when the dusty shoes were taken oiF, they felt 
 nearly rested. But Willy — where was he ? Dinner time came, but still 
 Willy did not appear. Grandpapa, much alarmed, sent his man-servant 
 in the pony-gig to seek him; but four o'clock came and still no Willy. 
 
 At length, just as their grandpapa liad resolved to go himself in quest 
 of him, the gig drove up with poor Willy in it in a sad plight. His little 
 coat was torn, his trousers dirty, and his face flushed and tearful. The 
 tale was soon told. He had been tempted by some boys whom he found 
 in the wood to stay a little time birds'-nesting, and he bad yielded ; but 
 in climbing a tree the bough had given way, and the child, in his fall, 
 had severely sprained his ankle. It was no time for reprimand ; the 
 tears fell so fast, and the tones were so humble, that no one could speak 
 
. A N D IXST R U CTIO N. 183 
 
 harshly. As ho \ay on the sofa, and Edith bathed the poor swollen foot, 
 his self-reproaches broke forth. 
 
 " 0, Edie, you were right ; I took the road which seemed pleasaiiter 
 and safer than yours, but it was the wrong one." 
 
 She kissed him, as she said, " Do not cry, darling Willy, you will never 
 do so again. It has taught you a good lesson." 
 
 "And it may yet teach you another, my little ones," said grandpapa, 
 pressing his hand kindly over Grace's head, which lay on Willy's shoulder; 
 "your little journey to-day is a picture of the pilgrimage of life. You 
 set ofl" full of spirits and hope on this May morning, never thinking of 
 the toil and trouble of the road. You had not gone far, however, ere 
 you were weary. Stones and dust, little ascents, and, finally, the fright 
 from the cattle discouraged you. Then Willy left you. One temptation 
 led him into another, and he fell short of the end at last. My children, 
 you are sent into the world on a journey. Your directions for the road 
 are so clear and plain that there is no possibilit}- of mistaking them. 
 Just as plainly as your mother told you to-day to come to my house by 
 the high road, so God tells you in his word not to attempt to reach 
 heaven by any other way than by Jesus Christ. He does not say, I am 
 a way, or the best way, or the safest way, or the smoothest way, but I am 
 the way, that is, the onlij way. Strange that we should try others, as 
 Willy tried the wood-path to-da}'. The grass was cool to his feet, he 
 thought the flowers looked tempting in the meadows ; the dangers and 
 fatigues of the straight road soon discouraged him, and flattering himself 
 that he should join them at the end, he took the bye-path to the town. 
 And your failure will be as certain as his if you attempt to lay out fur 
 yourselves any way of salvation out of Christ or besides him. You are 
 very young in years, but young children show wonderful capacity for 
 drawing new maps and guide-books of the road to heaven, and marvel- 
 lous willingness to study those already planned by others, while the 
 great book of the road — the Bible — they seldom read, and still more 
 rarely study. One child takes the pleasant path of self-righteousness. 
 
184 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF E N T E K T A I X JI K N T 
 
 If he is not cross, or disobedient, or idle, he thinks God will he pleased 
 ^vitll him, and, as a consequence, will be sure to welcome him to heaven. 
 Another has no idea of going in that long narrow way. He will stop 
 and pluck flowers a little, and enjoy tbe pleasures of the world. He is 
 young, and has time enough yet, he thinks; when he is older, he may 
 take the bigb road indeed, but not yet. It is dull, too, he thinks ; so few 
 travel that way, and his companions are not there. But be forgets that 
 death may come at any turn in the pleasant path he bath chosen, for 
 every churchyard will tell sucb a child that he is not too young to die." 
 
 There was a pause. The children understood the lesson, and they 
 never forgot grandpapa's birthday. Two of them are still going on in 
 their pilgrimage, and have long kept to the high road. If tbey wander a 
 little, tbe Saviour brings them back, for he is to them a good and loving 
 shepherd; and one of them, even the little Grace, has entered into rest, 
 and has proved the words of Jesus, that he is not only "the way," but 
 "the truth and the life." 
 
 Jiwgust Innunn Irniukt. 
 
 ISr the 24th of July, 1698, Francke laid tbe foundation 
 j^^ stone of the new orpban-house, on tbe ground at- 
 tached to the hotel, and in faith began to build. 
 -: The want of money could not dispirit or dissuade 
 him from bis work, though it gave him sometimes 
 considerable trouble and anxiety ; for he was obliged 
 to learn that, though aid was promised, yet the time and manner wei'e 
 not specified in the guide-book for daily life, which be made his con- 
 stant study. One passage in that book was often before him, " My time 
 
AND I X S T i: U C T I X . 1 S5 
 
 is not yet come;" and another also appeared to snit liini wull, "Call 
 upon me in the time of trouble, and I will deliver thee." Sometimes, 
 when food must be bung-lit for a hundred people, or ^Yhen on Saturday 
 afternoon the workmen required to be paid, he had not a penny in the 
 house. Sometimes j^ewbauer was obliged to run about the wliole day, 
 to gather as mucli money as was necessary to buy candles, that they 
 might not be sitting in darkness ; and it was perhaps near the evening 
 before he obtained it. It is better, however, to hear Francke tell in his 
 own words what he experienced at such times. 
 
 "In the month of October, 1698," he tells, "I was induced to send a 
 poor widow, whom I knew to be very pious, and also very destitute, a 
 gift of a ducat. She wrote to me in reply, tliat the monej' had arrived 
 at a time when she greatly required it, and she prayed that God would 
 rejiay me many hundred fold, for the benefit of the Orphan-house. Shortly 
 afterwards, a Christian friend brought me twenty-five ducats, and on the 
 very same day, two ducats were sent me from Sweden. In a few daj-s, 
 twenty-five ducats arrived b^' the post without the name of the giver. 
 About the same time, Prince Louis of Wirtemberg died, and left a 
 legacy to the Orphan-house. On inquiry, there was found a red silk 
 purse, eontaing 500 ducats, with a card attached, stating that it was fur 
 the Orphan-house in Ilalle. "When I saw the pile of ducats lying on the 
 table, I thought of the poor woman's prayer, that the ducat might be 
 repaid many hundred fold. 
 
 "When this was spent, and the bills were still coming in, I felt myself 
 in some difficulty, especially when one large payment was pressing, and 
 I had nothing to meet it. I had resolved, so soon as I should have 
 finished the business on wliich I was engaged, to go to my chamber to 
 beg the divine blessing, and just as I had finished, and was going to 
 engage in earnest prayer, a letter was put into my hand by a merchant, 
 who said he had received orders to pay me a thousand dollars for the 
 benefit of the Orphan-house. I thought of the promise, ' Before they 
 cry, I will answer; and while they are speaking, I will hear.' I went, 
 
186 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 however, to my chamber, and instead of begguig, I poured out my whole 
 soul in praise and thanks to him who doeth so wondrously above all that 
 we can ask or think. 
 
 " In the following harvest I was taking a solitary walk, and, looking 
 np to the sky so bright and so blue, thought within myself, what a pri- 
 vilege it is to have nothing in one's own keeping, but to know Ilim who 
 doeth as be will in heaven and on earth. I felt the nearness of the Holy 
 One, and spread out my case before him with exceeding joy, asking him 
 to do with me and for me according to my vrants. I knew that there 
 was no money in the house, and that accounts were to be paid in the 
 evening; but felt happy in the assurance that he who had made the 
 ' heaven and the earth, and had spread out that blue firmament above, 
 knew as well as I did what was necessary to carry out his own work, in 
 which I was merely steward and overseer. On reaching home, my faith- 
 ful helper, Newbauer, came to ask if there was any money come — he 
 Avauted some for wages. I said there was none arrived, but I trusted in 
 due time to have enough. I imparted to him the sweet hour that I had 
 spent in meditation, and the joyful assurance I had of the love of God. 
 As we spoke, a student was announced, who wanted to speak with mo. 
 lie told me had been commissioned by a friend, who wished to remain 
 unknown, to pay me thirty dollars for the Orphan-house. On returning 
 to the overseer of the works, I inquired how much he required, when he 
 said, ' Thirt}- dollars.' I handed him the money I had just received, and 
 both of us found our faitli much strengthened by the circumstance of 
 obtaining exactly what was necessary. 
 
 " On another occasion we had no food in the house, and I felt myself 
 peculiarly earnest in pleading, ' Give us this day our daily bread.' I was 
 desirous that on this occasion we might all see that it was from Him. 
 In the course of tlie day a fi-iend drove up to the door, and brought me 
 four hundred dollars. Now I knew why the Lord had taught me to 
 pray so earnestly for help ' this day.' At another time, all was gone, 
 and I had no recourse but prayer ; and see ! there came a letter from a 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 187 
 
 friend, wlio lived six Imudrod miles away, with fifty florins, Logging that 
 I would excuse the trouhle he wanted to give me to divide this sum 
 among the poor. 
 
 "At another time, upwards of one hundred dollars were required to 
 pay the workmen, and I knew of no way of obtaining ten. I directed 
 the steward to come after dinner, and in the meantime I should ask my 
 heavenly Father for the money. He came after dinner as appointed ; 
 and I was obliged to bid him return in the evening. In the meantime 
 a friend joined me, and we united in fervent prayer; but while engaged 
 in that exercise, I felt' impelled to grateful recollection of all that God 
 had done for me and for others. Scripture examples of Ishmael in the 
 wilderness, of Moses at the Red Sea, of David when pursued by Saul, 
 of Elisha in Samaria, of Elijah among the prophets of Baal, stood 
 vividly before my mind, with the promise 'Jesus Christ, the same yester- 
 day, and to-day, and for ever' — till I forgot to ask deliverance from 
 present need, but sought much rather to pour out my feelings of grati- 
 tude for the goodness of God. When we had ended our prayer, and 
 the friend was taking his leave, I accompanied him to the door, where 
 I found on the one side the steward coming for his money, and on the 
 other side a messenger with a bag containing one hundred and fifty 
 dollars for the benefit of the Orphan-house. 
 
 " The overseer of the works came to me one morning early, asking 
 for money, and I gave him what I had. It was six dollars. 'Ah yes,' 
 said the overseer, 'if it were six times so much, it would just serve.' 
 We comforted each other with the promise of Ilim in whose work we 
 were engaged, and in the course of the day there came in so much that 
 the thirty-six dollars were paid. When the wants had at one time 
 accumulated, and the fountains seemed to dry up, my assistants were 
 beginning to reason among themselves as if God had forgotten to be 
 gracious. One came to tell me that such doubts were filling the minds 
 of those who had at other times been very steady, and, while he was 
 speaking, a bill of exchange for five thousand dolhirs was [mt into my 
 
188 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEKTAIXMENT 
 
 hands. It was the sorest trial I had met with, but it was also tlio largest 
 sum I ever received at once." 
 
 These examples are selected from a paper which he afterwai'ds wrote 
 as a testimony of the goodness of God, for the strengthening of the 
 faith of coming generations. Should such examples appear to any one 
 ridiculous, it is a clear evidence that he has never tried such experiments. 
 Should they appear unphilosophical, it can only be because the basis of 
 all philosophy, and of all wisdom, is forgotten ; for all true philosophy 
 is based on the fear of God, and the knowledge of his revealed charac- 
 ter. Should any one be tempted to presumption by such examples, let 
 him remember that, to obtain such signal help from God, it is neces- 
 sary — '^ 
 
 Ist. To be engaged in a work agreeable to the divine will 
 
 2nd. To have the divine glory as the chief aim. 
 
 3rd. To live a holy life. 
 
 4th. To have made use of all other means put ivithin reach. 
 
 It was little wonder that the hearts of rich and poor, of high and low, 
 were turned to support this work; for it was undertaken S0I0I3' with an 
 e^-e to the divine glory, and was carried on in faith and prayer. Every 
 morning the workmen began their task with united prayer. At the end 
 of the week, when they received their wages, it was with prayer and an 
 edifying address that their week's work was closed. Tiiat gave the men 
 courage and steadiness; and in July, 1699, the principal wing was 
 under roof. But poor Franeke had no rest. For, from the day 
 that he had resolved, on a capital of seven florins, to found a ragged- 
 school, there flocked to him, from far and near, those who wanted to be 
 admitted, and he had scarcely finished a building till it was found to be 
 too small to accommodate those who in the meantime had sought 
 admission. 
 
 lie was never much concerned about the money, for he knew that, if 
 he had obtained the inward assurance that the work was good, the means 
 would he obtained at the proper time. At one period he was gathering 
 
AXD IXSTRCCTION. 189 
 
 money for a pa3-ment wbleli would soon fall due, and liad the requisite 
 sura, to the amount of four thousand dollars, brought together. One 
 morning a ladder was found applied to a window of the room where the 
 money was kept, and marks were evident of an attempt to break in. 
 What had driven the thief away no one knew. Francke thought, how- 
 ever, rather than that thieves should carry the money away, he would 
 build a house for the normal schools. A thousand dollars, and another 
 thousand, were spent on the building, and the time was approaching 
 when the four thousand must be paid. The da^' came, and Francke had 
 not the monej\ lie went to the university, read his lecture as usual, 
 returned, and found many letters on the table. The first one which he 
 opened ran as follows : — " My deceased sister has left a legacy of eight 
 thousand dollars for tlie Orphan-house in Ilalle, and, as it is the first iteni 
 of the will, I should like also to pay it first." The money was now paid, 
 and Francke had enough to carry on his building. This was the normal 
 school, built in 1711. 
 
 Francke had a small medicine chest, out of which he supplied medi- 
 cine to the poor gratuitously. Once on visiting a patient, the sick man 
 gave him a large number of receipts, for cures of various diseases, and 
 assui'ed him be would find them efiicacious. The receipts were intrusted 
 to the physician of the Orphan-house, C. F. Richter, a worthy man, who 
 had given his whole property to the institution. • After some fruitless 
 attempts, he at last succeeded, and the cures which wei'e effected by these 
 medicines were almost beyond belief. The Apothecary's Hall thus 
 became a place of great importance. 
 
 In his own day, he saw the different branches of the institution come 
 to a state of great efficiency. At his death, there were 134 orphan child- 
 ren trained and boarded under the care of ten teachei's and caretakers, as 
 they were termed ; 2207 boys and girls, young men and young women, 
 were under the care of 175 teachers; and many of these, too, were gra- 
 tuitously instructed in all the necessary branches of a suitable education. 
 212 poor scholars, and 255 students were daily fed. The town and the 
 
190 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 rising universitj- were, by sueli eiTjrts, groatly improved, and the amount 
 of money put in circulation ke[)t tiie labouring population in employ- 
 ment and bread. 
 
 Many and bitter were the calumnies and persecutions which Francke 
 was required to bear, but he regarded them all as necessary to keep hina 
 humble and watchful. His own spirit extended to, and took possession 
 of, all his assistants. "When Frederick William I., king of Prussia, once 
 asked Elers, the founder of the library and publishing department of the 
 institution, how much ho had for his great toil and labour, he answered 
 that he had his one suit of clothes and a pocket Bible. More he had 
 not, and did not wish. "Now," said the king, laying his hand on 
 Francke's shoulder, " now I understand how A'OU could do all this. 
 Such helpers I cannot find." 
 
 The great Bible Society was founded by Caunstcin, and when he died, 
 Francke carried on the work alone. Some notion of the amount of 
 good done by this society may be gathered from the fact, tliat, indepen- 
 dent of the New Testaments and Psalms, a Bible in our possession, of 
 the date of 1840, is marked as the 276th edition. If each edition were 
 reckoned at but 5000 or GOOO, what a work has there been done ! 
 
 We must not forget, however, that Francke was professor, and as such 
 his great aim was to furnish his students with something substantial to 
 take with them and lean on during life. His desire, like that of Spener, 
 was to bring religion into daily use, and develope its power on the heart 
 and character. He laboured hard to promote a living faith at home, but 
 he did not forget the heathen. He sent many of his students to the 
 mission college founded by the king of Denmark, and kept up a corres- 
 pondence with them in foreign lands. 
 
 He made frequent journeys ; and it would be easy to fill manj' a page 
 with the story of the calumnies which were often sent before him, and 
 the manner in which he by his faithfulness and gentle self-denial over- 
 came them all. 
 
 He had boon a weakly child, and had never enjoyed much good 
 
A \ D I N S T R U C T I X . 191 
 
 health; still his constitution held out till his 64th year. In the summer 
 of 1727 he began his usual course of lectures, but delivered onl}' the 
 first, and closed it with an earnest, full-toned adieu : " Go then, my 
 friends, and the blessing of God rest on you for ever and ever." On the 
 24th of May he was carried out to the garden of the Orphan-house, and 
 there he took leave of the scene of his toil in a prayer which lasted an 
 hour. On the 8th of June he passed away from the turmoil of life, and 
 entered into his rest. "I have waited for thy salvation, God," were 
 the words whicli he oft repeated on his death-bed, and he passed away 
 without a struggle. 
 
 A hundred years later, a marble monument was built, and on it was 
 inscribed, in German — 
 
 August ITermann Francke. 
 He trusted in God, 
 
 ^n Innicnt (\-am ^lc:il fiff. 
 
 CLERGTMAJSr in Ireland was preaching some few 
 ^J\ years ago to his ordinary Sunday congregation upon 
 
 ''v^^ *''^ imi)Ortant text, " Search the Sci-iptures." In 
 tj^^^f^^"^'^ the course of his sermon, while admonishine: his 
 ^j'^'/i'^i^^^t, hearers of the guilt and danger of neglecting the 
 //^ji>' ^ Ivv'/ '^ word of God, he quoted a passage of a divine, in 
 which he speaks of the Bible as sometimes having 
 enough dust upon its cover to admit of the brief but appalling scriptu- 
 ral expression, "damnation,"* being written legibly thereon. A vonu"- 
 
 * The passage occiutpiI, we believe, in a sermon of that unconi promising pulpit orator, 
 John Wesley. — Editok. 
 
102 PORTFOLIO OF E >,' T E E T A I X M E X T 
 
 lad}-, a member of tlie congregation, was struck by tbe peculiar force of 
 tlie expression used, and spoke of it upon ber return bome. Her bro- 
 tbcr, a 3'oung man wbo bad on tbat day causelessly absented bimself — 
 as young men are too often apt to do — from the public service of the 
 sanctuary, overbeard ber, and it pleased God tbat tbe words — or ratber 
 the startling tliought which they suggested — should go bome like an 
 arrow to bis heart. lie hurriedly withdrew to bis chamber, took down 
 bis Bible from a shelf, and looked at it; there was dust upon the cover. 
 With trembling finger be traced, half unconsciously, tbe appalling 
 phrase which tbe preacher bad used. There it stood, distinctly legible. 
 He read it — be repeated it — be burst into a flood of tears; and falling 
 upon bis knees, with streaming eyes and heaving breast, be besought 
 the God of whom that neglected Bible testifies, tbat he would merci- 
 fully pardon bis grievous sin, and give him grace to neglect it no longer. 
 The seeds of consumption, unknown to bimself and unsuspected by his 
 relatives, were lurking in that young man's constitution at tbe time, 
 destined to be speedily and fatally developed. And during the weary 
 days and sleepless nights which were ere long aj^pointed him, tbat here- 
 tofore neglected Bible was his solace and bis sta^- ; and when death came, 
 it found liim bearing triumphant testimony to tbe blessed fact, that tbe 
 God whom it reveals was bis God, and tbe salvation which it promises 
 his salvation — his joy and bis portion for ever! 
 
 Many and important are the lessons suggested by this incident, and its 
 inestimably blessed result. It furnishes, in tbe first place, a case in 
 point of what we believe will be found to hold good in almost evei'y 
 instance, namely, tbat the neglecter of the public worship of God upon 
 tbe Sabbath is also, as a matter of course, a neglecter of God's holy 
 word at home. The spirit which prompts tbe former will not fail to 
 effect the latter also. And thus does the transgressor array against him- 
 self a twofold testimony, which will one day lift its condemning voice 
 with a power which be little recks of, and leave him altogether defence- 
 less ; inasmuch as tbe excuse (in nine cases out of ten a vain one) with 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 193 
 
 uliieh he (leludcs liimsclf with regard to the one oifenee, will be fouiKl 
 iueapable of being- even pleaded tor the otlier ; the reason wliy (if indeed 
 there be an^- reason wliy), he did not join in tlio worship of Ciod abroad 
 being, at all events, no reason whatsoever why he should not have read 
 the word of God at homo. lie who is reahy, by an unavoidable neces- 
 sity, constrained, as will sometimes happen, to spend his Sabbath at 
 home, will feel on that very account the more desirous of making his 
 Bible tlie companion of his solitude. He who, on the other hand, 
 gladly avails himself of some imaginary or iusutficieut excuse for absent- 
 ing himself from the public means of grace, will either find one ready 
 to hand, or deem that none is ucedfLil for, in hke manner, dispensing 
 \\ith the in'ivate. 
 
 Again, we have here strikingU- brought before us the vast importance 
 of the Sabbatli's sermon being made the subject of subsequent remark 
 and conversation in the domestic circle. Thus the seed sown will bo the 
 better preserved against that speedy snatching away out of the heart, 
 which our blessed Redeemer warns us against in the parable of the 
 sower, as one of the chief liindrancos to its bringing forth fruit. Thus, 
 too, will those who have heard the sermon preached be refreshed in 
 their recollection of it; and the errors or misconceptions which some of 
 them may very possiblj' entertain concerning it will be removed. While, 
 as in the case before us, to one or more members of the family who have 
 not heard it previously, it may, iiy the wonder-working agency of God's 
 Hilly S[iii'it, become, as it were, second-hand, a source of greater bless- 
 ing tlian to those who have received it from the preachei-'s hps. 
 
 Further, we have here a marvellous instance of the indirect, unex- 
 pected, and what, huniauly speaking, we should call fai'-fctched methods 
 wliereliy the Most High is sometimes }ileased to arrest the sinner in liis 
 downward progress to destruction, and to turn hinr "from darkness to 
 light;" and all tliis in order, it would seem, to put it beyond question 
 that "the excellency of the power," in every instance of a sinner's con- 
 version, "is of God," and not of man. We naturally would expect that 
 13 
 
194 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 a sermon, if blessed at all to tlio turning of a sinner from the error of 
 his ways, would be so blessed to one or more of those who lieai-d it 
 preached. That an absent member of the congregation should be the 
 one especially and savingly benefited by it, is something which it would 
 scarcely enter into our minds to conceive. If questioned, moreover, as 
 to the particular portion of a sermon which we should consider likely, 
 with the blessing of the Lord upon it, to be effectual to the wakening of 
 a slumbering soul, we should point, in all probability, to some clear 
 statement of doctrine, or some forcible or stirring appeal to conscience 
 which it might contain. We should scarcely think of indicating a single 
 brief expression, however striking or emphatic — and that, too, given as 
 a quotation from another preacher, long since departed — as the arrow 
 which the Spirit would make choice of wherewith to wound, in order 
 that he might for ever heal, a world-loving and a God-despising heart. 
 Little did the preacher, upon that occasion, imagine, as he quoted that 
 (expression — still less,, if possible, did she imagine who afterwards 
 repeated it — that it was as a cord let down from heaven to draw up a 
 -iiiful soul — that it should prove a "word of life" to one about to go 
 down ere long into the valley of the shadow of death ! 
 
 In all this we are practically taught that the ways of Ilini with whom 
 we have to do are not "as our ways," nor are "his thoughts as our 
 tlioughts ;" that all agencies and instrumentalities are alike to him to 
 work therewith according to the good pleasure of his will — ^ and that, 
 therefore, we should earnestly, unremittingly, pra3'erfully, make use of 
 all, both for ourselves and others, and look to and trust in him to bless 
 them to the saving of souls, and the glorifying of his holy name. 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 105 
 
 ^lic (Thristian lllaff. 
 
 On to the g(i:il, friends, on ! 
 
 Glory awaits you there; 
 Crowns for the victors' brow, 
 
 Robes that the coni|iierors wear; 
 Thrones for the sons of might, 
 
 Harps for the sons of song, 
 Welcome from heaven's own King, 
 
 Greetings from heaven's bright thronj 
 
 On ! for the hour has come 
 
 When ye the race must run, 
 Or sec life's day decline, 
 
 With life's great work undone. 
 ILirk ! fur the Master calls, 
 
 And o'er your path has shone 
 The sunlight of his smile; 
 
 On to the goal then, on ! 
 
 I'ut off each cumbrous weight. 
 
 Renounce each darling sin. 
 He must bo free as air 
 
 Who yonder wreath would win. 
 With patience gird the soul. 
 
 Maintain the strife begun; 
 Be firm unto the end; 
 
 On to the goal, friends, on ! 
 
 Though loiterers in the course 
 
 , Look round you — myriads stand 
 
 Enrobed in glorious light, 
 
 Earth's star-crowncJ conqueror band. 
 
196 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 They point you to tlie prize, 
 
 By true heiirts surely ■won ; 
 Tliey urjjo you to advauee ; 
 
 On to the goal, then, ou ! 
 
 Li ! Christ awaits you tliere, 
 
 lie who the cup of shame 
 Drank, and the cross' pangs 
 
 Endured, to win a name, 
 lie waits to bind the crown, 
 
 When life's short race is run, 
 Round every victor's brow ; 
 
 On to the goal, friends, on ! 
 
 (L 1] r i s t i ii n i t IT in t Ir c J}a\ix of 5 ;in g c r . 
 
 Vlm^^E '^^ P^ev. Dr. Catlcr, of Brooklyn, New York, with 
 ^^^^^ ' **^ '^^ Mrs. Cutler, spent several months in England, during 
 the summer of 1843, on a visit for his health. On 
 their voyage homeward, they were exposed to severe 
 tempests; hnt, at length, after many sufferings, the 
 vessel, the "Sheffield," of Liverpool, arrived within 
 sight of land, and the passengers expected speedily to reach their homes, 
 ■when it struck, with one hundred and thirty persons on board, upon a 
 shoal amidst furious breakers; and, during eleven hours, death seemed 
 impending without any hope of escape. The water was rapidh* risiug ; 
 the ship was filling, and was gradually settling in the sea and sand ; and 
 the passengers were crowded together, driven at first from the cabins, 
 and, at length, retreating to the round-house and deck; and seeing the 
 
A N D I X S T R U C T I N . 107 
 
 sea eveiy moment gaining upon tliem. The boats would not hold half 
 the i^ersons on board; nov were they launched, as the captain, whisper- 
 ing, told Dr. Cutler that the rush of the mass of the steerage passengers 
 would create dreadful confusion, and prohahlj- cause all of them to be 
 swamped. A steamboat was in search of them, but could not see them. 
 Xight came on : the vessel was beating fearfully ; the blue lights and 
 signal rockets were expended, all but one, and that one, providentially, 
 was seen by the people in the steamer, who, at great risk to themselves, 
 pressed forward and brought deliverance, so that not one person 
 perished. 
 
 Events of this nature, alas ! are numerous, and oftentimes most awful ; 
 but the circumstances which occurred in this case, during the solemn 
 suspense between life and death, are so remarkable, that doubtless every 
 reader will feel interested in the account of them, as related in a letter 
 by Dr. Cutler. 
 
 The captain appears to have been a devoutly' religious man, as well as 
 an able officer. He had public worship twice on Sundays, and daily 
 morning and evening prayer. The following is, in substance, Dr. 
 Cutler's account of the occurrence after the ship struck: — 
 
 " I was on deck when the ship struck : I inimediately went down to 
 my wife to afford her consolation. All the cabin passengers came in a 
 body into the ladies' cabin : and one of them called for prayer to Almighty 
 God. The ship was then striking with great violence, and threatening 
 almost instant destruction. Kneeling round the table we poured out our 
 hearts to God. When this praj-er was offered, another was put up, and 
 another. By this time the minds of all seemed more calm ; we sat down, 
 and some endeavoured to encourage others with the hope of being 
 rescued from the wreck; but most of the passengers were silent, revolv- 
 ing over the events which in the short space of an liour had taken place. 
 Prayer was soon again called for, by some of the passengers, and it M'as 
 offered, and with a fervonc}', and with responses from many present, 
 which it would be well to continue at all times. An hour had now 
 
198 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 elapsed. It was proposed, by our commander, that we should take some 
 refreshment ; this at first was declined — many exclaiming that they had 
 no appetite for food. Some joints of meat were placed upon the table ; 
 but none, I think, partook of them, the agitation of the ship requiring all 
 our attention in order to keep our seats. We then arranged ourselves, 
 the ladies on the sofas, and the gentlemen on the floor, and remained 
 like persons awaiting the summons to enter the eternal world. It should 
 be reiparked that, after the first mental shock was past, a great degree 
 of calmness was acquired b}- all in the cabin, and soon by all in the ship. 
 Great pains had been taken, from the commencement of the voyage, to 
 furnish every j^erson who was destitute with a Bible ; and every copy of 
 a grant from the British and Foreign Bible Society in London, brought 
 on board by the writer, was given away : many tracts were also given 
 and distributed throughout the ship. Divine service had been performed 
 regularl}' in the cabin and in the steerage, the captain himself offering 
 prayers. 
 
 " There were among the passengers many forms of religious profes- 
 sion ; there were Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Baptists, and Methodists : 
 but from first to last, not a note of controversy had been hoard; and I 
 verily believe that this absence of contentions, this unit}', peace, and 
 concord, had great weight with careless men, in inducing a belief in the 
 truth of that religion, which, under some form or other, all of us main- 
 tained. What a delightful prayer was that of our Saviour — ' That they 
 all may be one : that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.' To 
 tiiose two causes I am inclined to attribute the comparative tranquillity 
 which, for ten hours out of twelve, was visible. 
 
 " But, ! who can reveal what was working under this visible com- 
 posure ? Who can describe the processes of thought which were resorted 
 to in order to accommodate the soul to existing circumstances ? Much 
 was perceptible in the expression of the countenance, and in the tone of 
 the voice ; and the results of spiritual and intellectual habits long formed 
 ■ — under the guiding hand of the Holy Spirit — were not illegible. From 
 
A N D I N S T II U C T I N . 199 
 
 ■U'Lat sprang tliat al)ilit\- to seize upon the consolations of ivlig-ion, and 
 to impart tlrera to otliers, even while tlie ver}- flesh was tremhling on the 
 bones? Whence sprang that feinalo fortitude which seemed hardly to 
 desire the sj-mpathy which was uttered or evinced? The previous life, 
 the avowed principles and plain practice, now brought forth, its proper 
 harvest. A fixed reliance on God as a Saviour in Christ, imparted by 
 the Holy Spirit, and long cherished, now sustained many a trenililing 
 lieart. I saw a gentlem.an return to the ladies' cabin, after all wore 
 driven out of it by the water, to recover some articles of clothing for the 
 servant of another passenger, who in the hurry had nothing on her liead. 
 And, at the last moment of agony, when the captain came to take a 
 lady in his arms to carry her on the deck, I saw licr insist upon his taking 
 another lady, who, although unattended by any I'elative, was entitled to 
 every respect. Indeed, it required sufferings like these to touch the 
 deepest springs in the bosom of refined and cultivated minds. 
 
 "During the night our excellent commander urged us to take some 
 refreshment. Bread, an<l wine and water, were handed round twice or 
 three times at intervals ; and, previous to our removal to the upper deck, 
 in order to prepare us all, especially the ladies, for the exposure, tlie 
 captain came down and recommended further refreshment to us: 'and 
 then,' said he, turning to me, 'and then, sir, let us have prayers.' 
 
 "After partaking of this, as we supposed, our last meal, the 4Cth, the 
 130th, and the 107th Psalms, and the 27th chapter of the Acts, were 
 read : a hymn was sung, and praj-ers viere offered. It will not appear 
 strange to Christian minds, that, after this, even cheerfulness was in some 
 measure acquired. It was now near midnight ; previous to this, however, 
 while the moments were slowly departing, with a leaden step, one of the 
 clergymen present selected from the Bible a text, and delivered a short 
 but appropriate discourse, mingling the most pointed and personal appli- 
 cation to his hearers, and especially to all who had not as yet publicly 
 decided to be on the Lord's side. The text was, 'As Moses lifted up the 
 serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man he lifted up: that 
 
200 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 ■wliosoever bolievetli iu liim slioukl not perisli, but have eternal life.' 
 Jolm iii. 14. 
 
 "It was now drawing towards midnight, and we had all been driven 
 from below to the upper deck ; we sat in a dense mass looking at each 
 other, and at death, which, as it seemed, was staring ns in the face. Our 
 captain was standinghalf way down the companion ladder, that he might 
 couvei-se with one and another, whose sorrows found vent in words. 
 
 "It was about this time that the captain invited the writer to go out 
 with him and see the beauty of the night, and such a scene of sublimity 
 and desolation I never beheld. The ship, stripped of its masts, lay 
 weltering in the sea and in the sand, and appeared like the top of a long 
 black tomb. On our right — the niglit had cleared and the moon was 
 bright — appeared the shore of Long Island, about eight miles distant, iu 
 front, that of Staten Island: and here we were, in solitary possession of 
 an immense shoal, covered with waves iu which a boat could nc^t live, 
 and with no appearance of help. The moon was indeed bright ; l)ut it 
 seemed only a torch to light us to the grave. Lighthouses were sparkling 
 at difterent points; the heavens were glittering over our heads ; but the 
 cold wind compelled ns to retire to the round-house for shelter, and for 
 fellowship in affliction. It was now that the writer gave up all hope of 
 life : and taking his scat beside one from whom he did not expect to be 
 separated for a moment, even in death (0, what a bond is Christian aifec- 
 tion between man and wife !) he endeavoured to reconcile himself and 
 others to the will of God. 
 
 " The first hour on the wreck was one of excitement, agitation, lamen- 
 tation, and visible and audible sufl'ering. The last hour was one of silent 
 and heart-rending, but smothered agony; all apparently had made up 
 their minds, and had acquired fortitude; perhaps, from difterent sources; 
 all were subdued, aftectionate, and respectful to each other. Social 
 prayer, which had been resorted to again and again below deck, seemed 
 now to be a dispensation which had passed away, and had given place to 
 
AND I N ri T R U C T I jr . 201 
 
 that iiidiviJiuil application to the Saviour of souls wliicli immediately 
 precedes death. Every soul seemed wrapped in its own meditation. 
 
 " Our watches now told us that midnight was past. The tide, whicli 
 the captain had said would go down and leave the ship dry in the cal)iu, 
 by the almanac, bad been falling for two hours, or more, outside the ship, 
 but the water continued to rise within. Alas ! to some of us that seemed 
 a tide, which, so far as we were concerned, would never go down. One 
 gentleman, observing bis watch to have run down, took his key to wind 
 it up, but suddenly stopped, and said, 'I shall have no further use for 
 time,' and replaced it in bis pocket in its silent and death-like sleep. 
 
 "It was about this time that a steerage passenger, on the deck, gave 
 notice that an olyect in the distance appeared to be approaching. There 
 was a rush to that side of the ship, but nothing could be seen. The 
 officers of the ship looked, but gave no encouragement. Shortly, this 
 person again made the same report; all eyes were again employed, but 
 in vain. A third exclamation was uttered ; tlie captain placed himself 
 where the best sight could be obtained, and, after looking through 1^I^^ 
 glass, expressed hope, and then contidence. A few sparks were emitted 
 from the dark mass, and a shout pealed from the deck, ' A steamer baa 
 arrived !' "Who can tell what was felt at this moment? God grant that 
 none of the readers of this may ever know the transition which was then 
 experienced ! 
 
 " Parents and children embraced ; husbands and wives, nay, strangers 
 were seen clasping eacb other, and expressing and uttering their awful 
 joy. A young man burst into the centre of the crowd, and said to the 
 writer, 'Now let us praise God:' be arose and repeated the doxologv, 
 'Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,' and then arose a liynin of 
 praise from more than one hundred voices on that dark deck, accom- 
 panied by the deep bass of the surrounding billows, which bore upwards 
 the gushing emotions of our hearts, and rendered to Ilim, to whom it was 
 due, the whole praise of our deliverance. In six hours afterwards we 
 were at home. ' Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, 
 
202 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 and for his wonderful works to tlie children of men ! Let them exalt hira 
 also in the congregation of the people, and praise him in the assemhly of 
 tlie elders.' Psa. cvii. 8, 32. 
 
 "No blame attached to the captain, who had taken a pilot on hoard, 
 and acted throughout the trj-ing scene in the most firm, judicious, and 
 exemplary manner. In acknowledging the gift of a family Bible, pre- 
 sented to him by several of the passengers after their landing, in testi- 
 mony of their gratitude, he says : ' This holy book, as it is the most 
 appropriate testimony which you, gentlemen, could have given of your 
 approbation of my conduct, so I assure you it is the most acceptable 
 which I could have received. From early infancy, I have been taught 
 to love, esteem and reverence it, as the polar star of my course tlirough 
 life, and the sheet anchor of my hopes hereafter.' " 
 
 It would seem from the foregoing account, that a large proportion, at 
 least, of the passengers, with the captain, and probably of the crew also, 
 were real Christians ; persons with whom the gospel of Christ was not a 
 system of mere notions in the mind, not atfecting the heart, or of mere 
 forms without life or power in the soul. Evidently, Christianity with 
 them was the power of God exercised in their hearts, giving peace of 
 conscience, stability of soul, and preparedness for any event, even for the 
 last dark hour — for death itself, in its most fearful form, and for the 
 eternal world. 
 
 Could anything but Christianity do all this ? Could anything but a' 
 true confidence in Jesus as the Saviour, and in the triune God as a 
 Father who had reconciled them to himself through Jesus, have given 
 hopes and anticipations which could so calm the troubled spirit in a time 
 of such peril ? 
 
 There can be but one answer. Nothing but a living faith in Jesus can 
 produce such results, or account for them. reader, place your soul on 
 THIS ROCK. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." 
 
AND I N S T K 1 r T I N . 203 
 
 ^ ^untiait ;it lliiynctlr. 
 
 f^^) N the road from ^Mouiit Carniel to Xazaretli, one of 
 1y\\^ our party liad to dismount and lie on the ground, 
 '\W!ifW^ heing weak after an attack of fever. lie was aroused 
 ^■■.6; ! ., '^''iip^ when lialf asleep by the noise of men running, and 
 -— ^^^^v>„v^jX^^ ' found they were pursuing a large snake, which at 
 ' ' last tlie}' killed quite close to him. Perhaps it was 
 
 to a snake crossing the traveller's path that Jacob alluded, when he said, 
 "Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth 
 the horse-heels, so that his rider shall fall Viaekwards." 
 
 There was a village near the road where the people had all left their 
 ordinary dwellings, and were living in huts made of green boughs, 
 placed on the flat roofs of their houses. We were at once reminded of 
 the feast of tabernacles by seeing these arbours used as habitations, as 
 also of Paul's allusion to it in 2 Cor. v. 1: "For we know that if our 
 earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of 
 God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 
 It was pitch dark when our caravan reached Nazareth, and set us 
 down at the Casa Nuova attached to the Franciscan convent. The 
 drear\- appearance of the town without any lights is hardly to be under- 
 stood from description ; yet some of the large towns in the Papal states 
 in Ital^^ have not even an oil-lamp in the streets after nightfall ; and, 
 alas! there is a worse darkness there, even a spiritual darkness. The 
 Psalmist tells how this may be made bright: "Thy word," he says, "is 
 a lamp unto my feet, and a light nnto my path." 
 
 At Xazareth there are people who make horse-shoes, formed so as to 
 cover all the hoof of the horse, leaving only a small hole in the middle. 
 The loud din of these blacksmiths hammering awakened us very early 
 on Sunday morning; but in mj' dreams it sounded like a village bell, 
 ringing to service on God's holv dav. How sad it is to find the Lord's 
 
204 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 (lay neglected here, where Clirist spent so many years of his life! It is 
 to be confessed, with sorrow, that many Englisli travellers set a very bad 
 example in this matter. Let us recollect, that it is the example of Christ, 
 and not of professing Christians, which we ought to follow. A benevo- 
 lent monk, Joachim by name, came from his cell to see me. He ap- 
 peared quite ignorant of the duties and privileges of the blessed day of 
 icst, and knew more about the false and stupid legends told concerning 
 Nazareth than of the history and doctrine of Jesus. In one house, he 
 said, there was a stone table where our Lord used to snp with his apos- 
 tles. In another, Joseph and Mar}' lived ; and a broken pillar was 
 pointed out as the place where Mary stood, when the angel spoke to her. 
 Luke i. 28. 
 
 However, we left these uncertainties, and went out to the fields, where 
 the Saviour is said to have walked wlien his disciples plucked the ears 
 of corn. This happened " on the second Sabbath after the first," and on 
 that day, according to Lev. xxiii. 14, no one might eat " bread, or parched 
 corn, or green ears." The Lord of the Sabbath showed, by referring 
 to the case of David, that the eeremonial law must yield to necessity; 
 and by alluding to the priest's occupation in the temple on the Sabbath, 
 he showed that in holy things manual labour on that day was permitted 
 by the moral law. The silent sanction given by Christ on this occasion 
 to the sanctification of one day in seven, is a convincing proof that he 
 intended it to be observed, while by explaining the exception to a literal 
 or rigorous interpretation of the law, he showed how he would have the 
 Lord's day sanctified. 
 
 I gave Joachim a piece of gutta percha to use in dressing wounds, 
 and wrote for him a long history of it in Latin, as he said it had never 
 been seen in Palestine, and the monks in all the convents, even to Persia, 
 would be anxious for information about it. He gave me some seeds of 
 balsam, or balm, of the size of beans, and pulled out of the very wide 
 sleeves of his brown capote a large collection of medicinal herbs. These, 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 205 
 
 it seems, liG fjatliored liimself on the hills, and lie took great pleasure in 
 learning tlieir Latin names. 
 
 The town of Xazaretli is not mentioned in the Old Testament. The 
 reputation of the inhabitants. seems to have been always bad. Many of 
 them were eseaped thieves and prisoners from the heathen distriet of 
 Acre, from Samaria, or from Philistia ; all of these being very near. 
 "Can there any go()d thing come out of Xazaretli ?" asked Xathaiiiel. 
 But after our Lord's death, when Peter invoked the power of his 
 divine Master in the most solemn wa}-, he said to tlie cripple, "In the 
 name of Jesus of Xazareth, rise up and walk." It is Christ us a Saviour, 
 once hundde, rejected, and of no i-ejuitation, who has power to make us 
 rise up and walk after him, through life and death, and who can raise us 
 liigher, even to his own right hand in glory. 
 
 A large herd of cattle passed by as we were speaking about these 
 texts. There were more than twenty drivers, each furnished with a stick 
 five or six feet long, and with an iron point or nail fastened to the smaller 
 end. There is a very curious verse in the 12th chapter of Ecclesiastes, 
 which is somewhat dark in meaning, until a little knowledge of eastern 
 customs enables us to understand completely the proverb it contains. In 
 the 11th verse of that chapter it is said, " The words of the wise are as 
 goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies, which are 
 given from one shepherd." Xow, there used to be a custom, and it still 
 is observed to some extent, that the head-herdsman alone was allowed 
 to fix the points into the ends of the goads. For this purpose he keeps 
 some simple tools; "yet they had a file to sharpen the goads," (1 Sam. 
 xiii. 21), and he is careful to prevent any of the goads from having their 
 points too long or too sharp, else they might injure the cattle; but he 
 also sharpens those goads which have become blunt through use. The 
 words of the wise are like these goads ; they are not too sharp, and 
 though thej' may have force to arouse, they should not have bitterness to 
 wound. If the Lord be our shepherd, we shall ever deal tenderly with 
 bis sheep. 
 
2G6 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 A woman also followed tliis herd. On her wrists were large metal 
 rings, and others like them were also fastened npon her ankles. These 
 " tinkling ornaments about their feet" are put on in cliililhdod, and when 
 the limbs increase in size, tlie rings remain tixed t'itv life. On another 
 occasion, I saw a woman at Constantinople, who had 1500 gold coins 
 plaited into her hair; indeed all her fortune was hanging from her head. 
 Many wore gold rings with glass beads on them, througji the cartilages 
 of the nose. We see an allusion to this in Isa. iii. 21; and the ring 
 given to Rebekah, (Gen. xxiv. 22) was probably of this sort. Kings for 
 the fingers were often used; and I brought home a mummy's liand from 
 Eg3'pt, which still has a ring with a gem in it upon the third finger. 
 
 We soon came near to Kench, which is the ancient Cana. Tiiere is 
 but one fountain for this village, and there is, thcrefure, but little doubt 
 that from thence was drawn the water which Jesus turned into wine. 
 Some very poor-looking women were drawing water from this well. One 
 of them had a little child, sitting astride on her shoulder, and holding 
 round his mother's neck. 
 
 From this road we could see Tabor, a round hill, about a thousand 
 feet high, and generally considered to be the place where Christ was 
 transfigured. The summit is covered with the ruins of convents and 
 chapels. The vast plain of Esdraelon, or Jezreel, surrounds Mount 
 Tabor. The soil has ten or twelve feet depth of the richest loam, and 
 thistles sometimes grow here ten feet high ; but still there are only a few 
 scattered tents upon its ample surface. 
 
 We observed several scorpions in this vallej', but found only one of a 
 white colour. It is probable that more knowledge is required before we 
 can fully understand how a scor[)ion could at all resemble an egg, so as 
 to see the meaning of our Lord's words about a child and his earthly 
 parent — "If he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?" Yet 
 Bochart says that there are scorpions very like eggs, when they coil 
 themselves up to avoid danger. The monk, Joachim, candidly confessed 
 to me that he did not read his Bible at all, and tliercfore could not con- 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 207 
 
 Torsc upon the snliject. "Wlille we were vainly striving to overrule his 
 objections to hear s(_>nie verses read, a sudden but violent storm arose, 
 and loud thunder echoed throu.<j;h the mountains. "The brow of the 
 hill whereon their city was built" was every moment gleaming as the 
 lightning flashed. The rain fell in torrents, and, in the course of an 
 hour, a river flowed past the convent door, along what lately was a dry 
 and quiet street. In the darkness of the night we heard loud slirieks 
 for help. The flood carried awaj- baskets, logs of wood, tables, and fruit 
 stands. At lengtli a general alarm was given. Two houses, built on 
 the sand, were undermined by the water, and both fell together, while 
 the people in them escaped with difBculty. It was impossihle not to 
 pity these poor, houseless creatures, and, at the same time, to thank God 
 that we Avere in a secure building. The power and meaning was thus 
 made plain of these words spoken by our Lord : " Therefore, whosoever 
 heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will liken him unto a 
 wise man, which built his house upon a rock; and the rains descended 
 and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and 
 it fell not, for it was founded upou a rock." 
 
•208 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Smsmii ;tni) its |fl;uiirr. 
 
 •Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life."— Rev. ii. 10. 
 
 5D HESE words are inscribed above tlie pulpit of the 
 ' Englisli chapel at Bonja, and are read by the traveller 
 with a thrill of peculiar interest. This picturesque 
 village, a favourite resort of the English residents at 
 Smyrna, lies at the distance of three miles from the 
 city. Leaving Smyrna, we cross a bridge thrown over 
 the little river Meles, renowned as the stream on the banks of which 
 Homer was born, and travelling tln-ough a pleasant valley, quicklj' reach 
 Bonja, a lovely place, redolent with the beauties of garden and shrubbery 
 surrounding its villa homes, and boasting an abundant foliage even in its 
 common streets, where great, wide-spreading trees stand between the 
 houses, under the shade of which the inhabitants spend many a social 
 hour. The neighbouring scenery is grand. Mount Corax rises near the 
 village, and in the distance beyond are seen the magnificent heights of 
 Traolus ; on the north stands Mount Sipylus ; and over all breaks the 
 quiet, solemn light of the Lord's day morn, just as it did eighteen cen- 
 turies ago, when near this very spot the Christians used to assemble, to 
 whom the words written over that pu]i)it were originally addressed. 
 
 "Above all Greek, above all Roman fame," is the distinction earned by 
 the churches of Smyrna and Philadelphia. They alone drew from the 
 Master words of unqualified approbation. Sin and imperfection were, 
 doubtless, to be found amongst them, yet so worthily did they bear the 
 name of Christ that he, while "searching the heart," found it needful to 
 mingle no sound of reproof with the language of i>ity, encouragement, 
 and promise in which he addressed them. And this while corruption 
 had been making sad pi'Ogress all around — love waxing cold — false 
 doctrine and unchristian deeds so prevailing amongst the churches of 
 
'Some were cast to the wilil beasts." Page 2(>i) 
 
A 5 D I K S T R r C T I X . 209 
 
 tlie Lord, as to olirit even fVoin Lis gracious lips the message of stern 
 rebuke and awful tLroatcning. 
 
 Smyrna has escaped the fate of its ancient contemporaries in Asia 
 Minor, and still exists in a flourishing condition. The stately grandeur 
 ■which it boasted in the old daj's of Ionia's magnificence has indeed 
 vanished ; nevertheless it continues to be an important city. And truly 
 "beautiful for situation" is this great emporium of the trade of the 
 Levant, once "the rpieen of Anatolia," "the crown of Ionia," "the 
 ornament of Asia." Worthily' bestowed names, the traveller thinks, as 
 he sails up its fine gulf, and gazes on the fair scene before him, where, 
 just at the curve of the baj-, the cit}- stretches along, its buildings partly 
 concealed by a movable screen of tall cypress trees. 
 
 It 'is difiicult to ascertain what the present number of inhabitants may 
 T)e; it is stated at various figures, varying from 130,000 to 200,000. In 
 the same way the Greek portion of the population is set down by some 
 writers at 20,000, by others at 50,000. 
 
 In fine harmony- with the character of tlie first believers at Smyrna, 
 and beautifully illustrative of obedience to the Saviour's command, "Be 
 3'e faithful unto death," is the immediately succeeding history of this 
 church. In the persecution under Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, the Chris- 
 tians of Smyrna, in common with those of man}' other places, suffered 
 severely. A beautiful letter addressed by them to the neighbouring 
 churches, relates the tale of their trials, and how their brethren had 
 proved themselves "faithful unto death" — a death of cruel torture. 
 Some were cast to the wild beasts; some passed through the fiames; 
 and others were compelled to lie upon sharp spikes. Polycaqi, the dis- 
 ciple of John, and probably "tlie angel of the church in Smyrna," to 
 whom the apocalyptic message was sent, was now a very aged man. 
 Yet when the infuriated cry arose, "Away with the atheists; let Polycarp 
 be sought for !" the brave veteran of the cross would willingly have re- 
 mained and faced the storm. But his friends eagerly urged him to with- 
 draw from the city for a time, and persuaded him to remove to a country 
 14 
 
210 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAIHMENT 
 
 Louse at a little distance. Ills retreat was discovered, and ho passed to 
 unother refuge. But when tliis also was found out, he refused to rnako 
 any further attempts at escape, calmly saying, " The will of the Lord be 
 done." His pursuers "he saluted with a very cheerful and gentle coun- 
 tenance, ordering a table to be spread for them, so that they wondered 
 to behold so venerable a person, of so great age, and so gi-ave and com- 
 posed a presence; and wondered what needed so much stir to hunt and 
 take this poor old man." A prayer followed, so solemn and affecting, 
 that the hearts even of his enemies were touched. It was the Lord's day 
 when, seated on an ass, the martyr was conducted into the city. On his 
 way he was met by the irenarch, who, taking him up into his chariot, 
 endeavoured to persuade him to make tlie concession necessary to save 
 his life, representing how trivial a thing it was to sacrifice a few grains 
 of incense to the emperor. "It is not for me to do what you advise," 
 was the mild but firm reply of the Christian; whereupon he was thrust 
 out of the chariot with such violence as to fall and wound his leg. 
 
 Arrived at the stadium, crowded with a fierce and yelling multitude, 
 the confessor stood quiet, and unmoved. Then, sounding loud and clear 
 above the frightful din, was a voice heard saying, "Be strong, Poly- 
 carp, and play the man." No one knew or could ascertain by whom the 
 words were spoken, and we need not wonder that the poor harassed and 
 excited Christians should have regarded it as a voice from heaven. Poly- 
 carp was again urged to deny his Lord. 
 
 " Regard thy great age," said the proconsul ; " swear by the genius of 
 Ciesar ; repent, and say with us, Take away the impious !" 
 
 " Take away the impious !" repeated the venerable man, glancing on 
 the idolatrous crowd around. 
 
 Mistaking Polycarp's meaning, and encouraged by what seemed to him 
 a concession, the proconsul quickly added, " Swear, and I will release 
 thee ! Eenounce Christ !" 
 
 " Eighty-aud-six years have I served him," was the indignant reply, 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 211 
 
 " and bo never did me any Lann ; liow can I tben renounce my King, my 
 Saviour!" 
 
 Still reluctant to condemn, the magistrate endeavoured to shake his 
 resolution liy dilating on the friglittul tortures which awaited liim — 
 thrown to the wild beasts or burned at the stake. But with divine joy 
 beaming in his face, the aged saint replied, " Why delaj-cst thou ? Bring 
 forth whatever thou hast a mind to ?" 
 
 At length the decisive proclamation was made, 'Tolycarp has con- 
 fessed himself a Christian," and the great stadium rung with the shouts 
 of the idolaters: " This is that master of Asia — that father of the Chris- 
 tians — that overturner of our deities — who teaclies so many not to 
 offer sacritice nor to worship the gods." A demand was made that he 
 should be delivered to the wild beasts, but this was refused, as contrary 
 to the order of the games. Tlien the cry arose that be should be burnt 
 alive, which being acceded to, materials were quickly gathered to form 
 a pile — the Jews, with bitter hatred to the Christians, and also no doubt 
 to mark their separation from them, taking care to be specially active in 
 tlie work. When all was ready, it was proposed to nail liim to the stake, 
 but he begged that this might not be done, saying tliat God would give 
 him strength to remain unmoved. When bound, prayers, such as a mar- 
 tyr hastening to his crown might oiier, ascended from that pile, which 
 was speedily after enveloped in flames. The death of I'olyoarp took 
 place A. D. 1G7. 
 
 The scene of this and many otlier martyrdoms occupies a site on the 
 side of a hill, which is strewn all over with the architectural remains of 
 various ages and various races. Bartlett visited the spot, in company 
 ^\ itli tlie American missionaries resident in Smyrna. Having gained the 
 suininit of the hill, "my companions," he saj-s, "pointing to a green 
 hollow in the mountain, Init a short distance below, exelainied, ' Tliat is 
 the spot ; it was there that I'olycarp sutfered.' We now descended to it. 
 
 "The stadium, or amphitlieatre, hollowed out in the hill side, on a site 
 which catches every breeze that blows, commands a wide and glorious 
 
212 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINJIENT 
 
 prospect over Smyrna and its far-stretchiug gulf. Here were wont to 
 assemble the thoughtless multitude of Asiatic idlers — how vacant and 
 how silent is it now ! Its sides and hollow are as thiclcly covered with 
 turf as the surrounding hill, through which appear here and there the 
 marble seats, or the orifices of the dens in which the wild beasts were 
 confined." "It stands," says the deputation from the Church of Scot- 
 land, describing the same scene, " on the face of a liill, the sides of a 
 concave valley forming a natural amphitheatre for the accommodation of 
 spectators. The space may be about five hundred feet long on each side, 
 at either end of which rose seats for the spectators. Near it is a range 
 of broken arches, which formed part of the vaults where the wild beasts 
 were kept." 
 
 Our fidelity to Christ is subjected to no such tests as that endured by 
 the ancient Christians of Smj-rua, the modern Christians of Madagascar, 
 or even the Bible-loving inhabitants of some parts of modern Europe. 
 Nevertheless we, even we, in this free, happj-, privileged land, have 
 need to take heed to the admonition, "Be thou faithful unto death." 
 With VIS, too, it is a possible thing to be false to our Lord. The tempta- 
 tion to deny his name is not indeed great. But this is not the only mode 
 of being unfaithful to him. Fidelity requires a heart earnestly devoted 
 to him, and a life which we honestly seek to mould in all its circum- 
 stances to the pattern set before us, and to have pervaded in its every 
 action by a loving desire to promote his glory, and to extend his king- 
 dom in the hearts of men. Less than this is unfaithfulness to him. It 
 is misrepresenting his service ; it is driving from him those who ought 
 to be his subjects; it is detracting from the sura total of goodness which 
 blesses the world and which he came to produce, and adding to the dark 
 mass of evil by which it is oppressed and which he came to remove. How 
 great a sin ! And we ai-e allured into habits and mental states which 
 involve it, by temptations varied, constant and pressing. The health of 
 this man's soul is injured by the whirl of commercial excitement, the 
 goading cares and anxieties of business — unavoidable business; others, 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 213 
 
 still less excusably, penult tlio quieter engagements of private life so to 
 fill the heart and tlionglits that the spiritual life languishes. The weari- 
 ness of constant labour, and thu depression induced l:iy looking through 
 a long vista of toil — toil ever — toil ceasing only with life, and little else 
 than toil — -ofttinies blunts the spiritual sensibilities and weakens the 
 faith and liope, the love and joy of the poor Christian. He forgets what 
 his Saviour said to the afflicted saints in Smyrna, and what he says to 
 every poor Christian yet — "I know thy poverty, but thou art rich." 
 
 The opposite temptations of pride, pleasure, luxury, and indolence, 
 tend to drag downwards a different class. They are so occupied with 
 adorning their tents, so busy tasting the rills which flow by their path, 
 that they are in danger of forgetting their pilgrim condition —pilgrims 
 ■who ought indeed to be thankful to tlie bounteous Friend who has pro- 
 vided them with these refreshing rills, and sweet flowers, and convenient 
 tents, which he intends them to enjo}', but not so to enjoy as to forget 
 him, his service, and their eternal home with him. ISTot that in any of 
 these circumstances successful temptation must necessarily be found. But 
 all of them will furnish such, if we be careless in " keeping the heart." 
 It shall not endure for ever. It extends only over the interval which lies 
 between us and death. This is a chef[uered state, furnished by the 
 gracious Creator with many sources of enjoyment, but with some dark 
 clouds in each man's horizon, in that of the Christian as well as others. 
 But to him all these clouds have "a silver lining;" consoling and sus- 
 taining grace, he knows, shall never fail to accompany their breai'ciug. 
 And then there is the eternal future, over whose surpassing brightness 
 no shade may pass ; and the crown of life, including all we can imagine 
 " the fulness of joy" to mcau. 
 
214 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTEKTAINMENT 
 
 %\)t .SunlJiur ^Utocr. 
 
 LLEN was a young girl who had been mercifully 
 brought to a knowledge of God, and of his great love 
 
 '^i^ifcli/^ \ *^ sinners in sending his only-begotten Son to die for 
 '<'•-'' \^ "^"^A them. There was nothing that she liked better than 
 
 -■5«il,-Ji--„J^^^, reading, talking, or thinking of all that lier kind Sa- 
 ' ' / '*/' ^/ * viour had done for her ; and to her the Sabliath was, 
 therefore, truly a delight, because it afforded her opportunities of doing 
 so without interruption. She had an uncle, who resided in a cottage 
 about a mjle from the town where Ellen lived ; and as he was always 
 read^- to converse with her, and give her instruction on the subjects 
 which she liked best, she visited him whenever she could. 
 
 One fine Sunday, in summer, after returning from worship, when the 
 other young persons of Ellen's family went to take a walk, she, as usual, 
 set oft" to pass the day with uncle John. Her way was mostly through 
 the fields; and as she bounded with a light step over the grass, enjoving 
 the perfume of the newly-cut hay, and fragrant woodbine that grew in 
 tlie hedges, she thought of his goodness who had made the world so 
 pleasant a place for man to dwell in ; and then lifted up her heart to 
 thank him for having instituted his Sabbath, thereby affording to many 
 an opportunity of enjoying the beauties of his works and praising him 
 for them, who would otherwise be excluded, in a great degree, from this 
 higli and hoi}- pleasure. 
 
 On arriving at her uncle's residence, she did not seek liim in tlio house, 
 for «lie knew where he was wont to pass the Sunday afternoon. Tliere 
 was a bower at the top of his little lawn, well shaded from the sun, while 
 it admitted every fresh breeze. There was a stream running near, on 
 whose banks wild meadow-sweet grew in profusion ; indeed, altogether, 
 uncle John's Sunday bower was a very pleasant retreat. 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 215 
 
 As Ellen ajiproiiclictl it, slie saw liini seated, with a little tal>le l)cforo 
 liim, on wliicli was placed an open Bible, lie seemed as if so dt'oply 
 engaged in thinking over what he had been reading, that he did not per- 
 ceive his niece till she spoke ; and she observed that, though there was 
 a happj' smile upon his countenance, his eyea were nioiHtenod with tears, 
 lie welcomed Ellen with Ins usual kindness; and when she expressed a 
 fear that she had interrupted him, replied, "ISTo, my child; I liave liad 
 X)leasaut thoughts over this blessed book, and am willing to share them 
 with 3'ou." 
 
 " Thank j-ou, uncle. What part were you considering ?" 
 lie answered : "A scene of such touching beauty in the history- of our 
 Lord, that every time 1 read it, 1 think 1 discern some point of interest 
 which escaped me before. It is the story of our Saviour's interview with 
 the Samaritan woman by the well." 
 
 "And will you kindly tell me what thoughts were suggested by it ?" 
 "With pleasure, dear Ellen, though 1 feel that there is danger, as was 
 once observed to me, of sometimes brushing oif the bloom of a Sci'ip- 
 ture, as it were, by too much handling of it; as one might, in the same 
 way, damage some delicious fruit. Let us desire grace to taste the sweet- 
 ness of this passage, though I am holding it in my hand, and turning it 
 over and over. I was thinking to-day, dear niece, that tliongh our Lord 
 Jesus Christ was indeed a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief 
 during his pilgrimage on earth, yet we may sometimes track a current 
 of joy in his spirit which it is happy to notice. For instance, wlien, as 
 related in the tenth chapter of Luke, the disciples return with joy to tell 
 him that the devils were subject to them in his name, liis soul seems to 
 be at once tilled and elevated, and he utters its feeling in these words, 
 '1 beheld Satan as lightning fall fi'om heaven;' his spirit then finding, 
 as it were, vent for its emotion in communion with his God — 'I thank 
 thee, Father.' This world was usually to Jesus a dry and barren land, 
 where no water was; but at a moment like this his spirit seems borne 
 along iu a flow of joy. He was given to anticipate the overthrow of 
 
216 POUTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Satan, and tlio acconiplislinicnt of the 'good pleasure of liis Fatlior.' 
 Oil ! that wc felt the opening of sneli mysteries like refreshing springs 
 for our souls in the same dry and barren world. IJut there was another 
 source from whence gushed re\'iving draughts for the spirit of Jesus — 
 the conversion of sinners. This is seen eminently in the passage I have 
 referred to — the history of the Samaritan woman. He revealed him- 
 self to her as her Redeemer, and sent her away happ}' in the discovery 
 — so happy that she forgot her water-pot." 
 
 "Well, uncle, I have before noticed this. Does it not seem as if her 
 heart was so filled with the spiritual things which she had just learned, 
 that she had no regard, no recollection of temporal things?" 
 
 "Indeed, it does ; and no wonder. This poor outcast had just learned 
 strange lessons. First, she had been taught to know herself; to look 
 well and carefully round on ' all things that ever she did ;' and her con- 
 science was fearfully dismayed. But soon the unclean Samaritan finds 
 that he who speaks to her is the Son of God — the Lord of the well of 
 life ; he who could give her that living water of which she might freely 
 drink and thirst no more. This was joy^, and the power of love to lier; 
 and she hastened to communicate it to her friends. It separated her 
 from her own pitcher; but it filled her spirit and her lips with a testi- 
 mony to her Saviour's name. But it was chiefly to consider the joy of 
 the Lord himself, that I wished to lead your attention to this passage." 
 
 " Yes, uncle ; you said that the conversion of a sinner was to his 
 soul one of the few refreshing springs of which he was given to taste 
 during his toilsome journey below." 
 
 " I did ; and if we have seen that the joy of the woman was great, it 
 was not so great as his. It is true that she forgot her pitcher; but ho 
 forgot his thirst. We gather from this deeply-interesting narrative that 
 when Jesus, after his fatiguing exertions sat upon the well at S^-char, he 
 was not only weary, but hungry and thirsty. Oh ! how apt are we to be ab- 
 eorbed by the feeling of our own wants, and to make that feeling an excuse 
 to our couscieuccs for inattention to the wants of others. But it was not 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 217 
 
 SO -u-itli hira. In the joy of having hrought a poor ruined sinner to the 
 knowledge of himself — whom to know is life — all privations, all sutierings 
 •were forgotten ; he had been refreshed with spiritual food, and to his 
 returning disciples was ahle to testify, '1 have meat to eat that ye know 
 not of.' To accomplish his Father's will in the recovery and life of a 
 sinner was meat and drink to him. Truly may we exclaim, 'herein was 
 love' — love unspeakable ! Is it not encouraging and delightful to think 
 of it, my child?" 
 
 "Indeed it is, dear uncle. I have sometimes thought how good, how 
 condescending it was of the holy, happy angels in heaven to rejoice in 
 the conversion of a sinner, as we arc told they do ; but what is it com- 
 pared with this incident in the life of Ilim who is so far above the high- 
 est of them ? Ton may well call it encouraging, uncle ; after hearing 
 of it, the very vilest sinner need not fear to come to Jesus." 
 
 "We may also be humbled," continued the old gentleman, "when we 
 reflect how little there is in us of the same mind that was in Christ. 
 How seldom do our spirits rest, like his, on the earthly journey, to taste 
 the virtues of such living waters as cheered his drooping soul ; and j-et 
 how pure, how divine, such joys and refreshments. Did we but love 
 Jesus as we ought, we should be ' instant iu season and out of season,' 
 trying to bring our fellow sinners to him, and finding our meat and drink 
 in doing so. To triumph in the present salvation of a soul, and in the 
 coming overthrow of the great adversary, and the accomplishmeut of 
 the Father's good pleasure — 
 
 " These are tbe joys that satisfy 
 And sanctify the mind j 
 That make the spirit mount on high, 
 And leave the world behind." 
 
218 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 fust l)«t loiuib. 
 
 A TRUE NAERATIVE. 
 
 aS^ very profligate is chased by the fnries of remorse and 
 - ^^ self-reproach, and mingles in his cup those elements of 
 W^t^ I bitterness which illustrate the truth of the Scripture 
 ■'' .^^JM^ 'T'J^h statement, that " the -way of transgressors is liard." 
 ^5^3i^J^I^^ Oi the other hand, a life of virtue and piety is ever 
 t' > ' r fi "/ marked by inward peace, and, in ordinary circum- 
 stances, exerts so blessed an influence on a man's outward condition and 
 worldly fortunes as to prove that to be pious is to be wise for both worlds ; 
 or, as Scripture expresses it, that "godliness is profitable unto all things, 
 having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." 
 Some there are whose history is an exemplification of both these princi- 
 ples. While they lived in sin and sought lying vanities, they forsook 
 their own mercies, and by their own recklessness and folly were the 
 authors of their own wretchedness. But having been reclaimed from 
 their vicious ways and brought under religious influence, prosperity and 
 comfort, hand in hand Avith mental peace, followed their steps, and 
 misery and moral debasement were succeeded by wealth, honour, and 
 affluence. 
 
 The following narrative, though in some of its particulars singular and 
 striking, supplies an instance of a moral and social transformation of 
 which the history of many a family in Britain could supply a parallel 
 illustration. 
 
 The Eev. Mr. P., of Leeds, who was for many years in the practice of 
 occupying for a succession of Sabbaths the pulpit of the Tabernacle in 
 London (morning and evening services being held on certain of the inter- 
 vening days), was, on the occasion of one of these visits, sauntering 
 through one of the streets in the west part of London, on a Monday fore- 
 noon. His object was relaxation, the exertions of the previous day 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 219 
 
 liaviii;; been followed Ly a degree of lassitude and exlianstion wliidi 
 nntitted liini for mental laLour. During his stroll, ho was politely 
 aceosted by a gentlemanly stranger, wlio addressed Lini by name, and 
 asked permission, though, persoually uidvuown to ]\Ir. P., to aeoompany 
 him for a short distance. After the}- had leisurely traversed one or two 
 streets, Mr. P.'s companion paused before a large and handsome mansion 
 which stood in one of the squares of that part of the metropolis. "May 
 I use the freedom," asked the stranger, "of inviting you, as a Christian 
 minister in whom I feel a deep interest, to enter my dwelling ; and as 
 this is the hour of luncheon, to join me iu taking some refreshment?" 
 The minister, who had engaged with some degree of reserve in conversa- 
 tion with this unknown individual, was on the point of declining, but an 
 irresistible impulse made him lay aside all hesitation and distance, and 
 accept the invitation as frankly as it had been given. lie found himself 
 forthwith in a spacious and well-furnished dwelling, where every object 
 that met the eye gave proof of the opulence and taste of its occupant. 
 
 Luncheon having been served, during which Mr. P. did not fail to per- 
 ceive the intelligence and piety that were indicated by his stranger host 
 in the course of their conversation, which had become less and less re- 
 strained, the latter said: "You will, doubtless, Mr. P., think my conduct 
 strange in accosting you as I did in the street, though unknown, and 
 inviting you to be my guest in this fashion." 
 
 "I do think it very remarkable," was the repl}-, "and am at no little 
 loss to account for this incident." 
 
 The explanation was furnished iu the following auto-biographical 
 narrative. 
 
 " I was sent to London, when a lad, to prosecute my business, my parents 
 having been induced to remove me from my home by a tempting ofter 
 of a situation which was made to mo by an influential and wealthy firm. 
 I was blessed with a religious education and training, under the eye of 
 my parents, both of whom were pious ; and I took with me, when I loft 
 the parental roof, the principles and impressions which the instructions 
 
220 PORTFOLIO OF K K T l' i; T A I K M E X T 
 
 of home and the Sabbath-school, and the consistent example of my father 
 and mother, had left upon my youthful mind. I liad excellent prospects 
 of rising in the establishment with which I was connected, for I had, 
 from the first, secured the confidence of my employers, and circumstances 
 had led one of the principal partners to take a special interest in me. 
 The conversation of those into whose company I was thrown, however, 
 gradually obliterated from my mind the influence of divine truth ; I felt 
 more and more reconciled to the spirit and ways of ungodly youths, 
 whose profanity and recklessness at first filled me with grief and horror, 
 until at length, imbibing much of their feeling, and yielding to the influ- 
 ence of daily intercourse with them, I lost mj- habits of prayer, Sabbath 
 observance, and Scripture reading, and forsook the house of God. 
 
 "As yet, however, I was attentive to ni}' business, sober, regular, and 
 punctual; and having got repeatedly a rise in my emoluments, I at length 
 entered upon married life. Ere the birth of our fourth child, my career 
 had become one of rapid degeneracy. I was the slave of dissipation and 
 intemperance. Strong drink had thrown around me its ruinous spoil, 
 and occasionally for da^'s together I would be absent from my employ- 
 ment with associates of kindred tastes, spending the earnings which 
 should have been bestowed on the maintenance of my wife and family. 
 As may be supposed, I lost the respect of my employers as well as my 
 own ; and in course of time I was dismissed and disgraced. This was 
 the commencement of a long series of misfortunes which dragged me 
 down to the depths of penury and ruin. The little ornaments which I 
 had given to my wife in the daj-s of our courtship, and which she had 
 treasured with fondness as memorials of my aftection, went one by one 
 to the pawnbroker, to procure the means of buying a scanty meal, and 
 bj'-and-by our furniture and clothing, and our very articles of dress, were 
 thus parted with. Words fail mo to picture the abject wretchedness of 
 my condition. My sins now pierced my soul with the sting of a scor- 
 pion ; remorse haunted me night and day; I saw a virtuous wife broken 
 in heart and crushed in spirit by my vicious follies. My tender babes 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 221 
 
 were in want because, in my unnatural cruelty, I tlirewaway on my lusts 
 what sliouUI have gone to maintain and cherish them, ily home, which 
 was once the abode of peace and joy, had now become a haunt of deso- 
 lation and despair. Hell was in my breast, and I sought a refuge from my 
 self-accusations and intolerable anguish of mind in a purpose of suicide. 
 "With the view of finding for myself a grave in the waters of the 
 Thames, I one morning left m}- miserable home, while j^et my wife and 
 children were asleep. I well remember the conflict of emotion through 
 M'hich I passed on that dismal morning, and the sullen repose which my 
 fiendish spirit felt when it settled down into the fixed resolve of rushing 
 unbidden out of life into eternitj- ! Tlius hating myself, and all the 
 world, and breathing defiance to the God of heaven, I wandered on, 
 half unconscious of every external object which I passed. I came to a 
 large building which a number of persons were entering. From a mys- 
 terious impulse which I cannot explain, and which I can only now re- 
 solve into the providence of God, who has access to the minds of his 
 sinful creatures in a wa\' which we are uualile to comprehend, I joined 
 these individuals, and immediately found myself in a large and well- 
 filled place of worship. It was the Tabernacle, and you occupied the 
 pulpit. Some expressions which dropped from your lips during prayer 
 arrested my attention. A chord which had long been silent in my 
 breast was thereby struck. I resolved that I would meantime wait a 
 little longer; although I did not dejiart from my resolution to seek a 
 termination to my earthly misery in self-destruction. It was still my 
 fixed resolve that within an hour or two — the sooner the better — my 
 wretched life should be cut short. Yet, almost in spite of myself, an 
 unseen power held me to the spot. You gave out a text, from which to 
 discourse to your audience. AYell I remember the words: 'When the 
 poor and needy seek water and there is none, and their tongue faileth 
 them for thirst, I, the Lord, will hear them, I, the God of Jacob, will 
 not forsake them.' You closed by an appeal to your hearers who were 
 not at peace with God. Xever can I forget the soothing and tender 
 
222 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 tones in which you besought them to turn away from earth's broken 
 cisterns, and seek happiness in God's favour. Tut the God of Jacob,' 
 j-ou said, 'to the test. He will make you drink of the cisterns of earthly 
 prosperity, so for as he sees this to be for yonr well-being. But, what is 
 more, he will make you drink of the cisterns of spiritual enjoyment; 
 and he will make you partakers of the hope of drinking of the river of 
 the water of life, which proceeds out of the throne of God and the Lamb : 
 the river of God's pleasures by which the soul shall for ever be refreshed.' 
 The Lord directed to my heart the word of heavenly mercy. It was 
 touched as it had never been by the grace of him who is ready to par- 
 don. I saw that there was mercy even for me. I stood convicted — 
 ruined — helpless! but even for me there was hope in God and in the 
 gospel. I resolved, with tears of penitence, but j-et of jo}- — such tears 
 as I never before had shed — to put the God of Jacob to the test ; to look 
 to the Lamb of God ; and, fallen and abject as I was by my iniquit}', to 
 return unto the Lord. 
 
 " I left the chapel, and turned my- steps towards my miserable home. 
 I acquainted my broken-hearted wife with my state of feeling, and re- 
 vealed to her, who, in my days of stupidity and reckless folly, had ever 
 sought to point my steps to virtue and pietj^, the hopes and aspirations 
 of which my breast was now the seat. We took out from a chest the 
 fragment of the only Bible which was in our possession. We read aloud 
 a portion of Scripture ; and for the first time knelt together before the 
 throne of grace, asking pardon and blessing, spiritual guidance and 
 eternal salvation. The Bilile, till then neglected, became from that hour 
 my companion and counsellor. That instance of family prayer was the 
 commencement of a practice, which, through the help of God, I have 
 continued till now. I rose from my knees on that occasion, a changed 
 man. It proved the crisis of my history: strong drink I liavo alijured. 
 That forenoon, the postman knocked at ni}- door, just as I was revolving 
 the perplexing question how to procure a meal for m}- starving wife and 
 children. He put into my hand a letter. It proved to be a remittance 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 223 
 
 of five pounds from a fiieud to whom, in my straits, I had some time 
 before applied for assistance. It enabled us to provide for our immediate 
 wants. It supplied me with decent clothing. I made application for 
 employment, and succeeded. I resumed my attendance at the house of 
 God. Being a skilful workman, I gave much satisfaction to my era- 
 p)loyers, and by my sobriety, steadiness, and industry, established myself 
 in their confidence and good opinion. I gradually rose in the establish- 
 ment with which I was connected, and in about three years, on the death 
 of the foreman, was appointed to his place. Some time thereafter, I was 
 admitted as a partner; and on the retirement, a few years subsequcntl}', 
 of the head of the firm, of whom I was the only surviving partner, I 
 succeeded to his share of the business. Thus, in the good providence of 
 God, he has, during a succession of 3-ears, filled my cup of earthly pros- 
 perity to overflowing; and I am sure that you, whom God employed to 
 be the instrument of my spiritual change, will rejoice to know that one 
 who was LOST, is now found." 
 
 The wealthy merchant, who had latterly spoken with tears, closed his 
 narrative. 
 
 " Striking instance, indeed!" said Mr. P., "of the free and wondrous 
 grace of God, who is found of them that seek him not ; you put tlie God 
 of Jacob to the test, and he has made you to drink of the cisterns of 
 earthly enjoyment ; but I trust j-ou can testify that he has also made j'ou 
 to drink of the cisterns of spiritual blessing." 
 
 "By the grace of God," was the rejoinder, "I am what I am : and to 
 him I give the praise for that hope which cheers me, realizing ' the ful- 
 ness of joy which is in his presence, and of the pleasures which are at 
 his right hand for evermore !' " 
 
 If the reader be one who, sick of sin's waj'S, is, in the spirit of a pen- 
 itent, putting the God of Jacob to the test — one who, when his tongue 
 fails him fur thirst, calls upon tlic Lord who has promised " not to for- 
 sake" the suppliant "poor and needy" — let him be assured, that though 
 
224 PORTFOLIO OP ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 lie may not obtain the measure of outward prosperity wliicli was reached 
 in the instance of a return to tlie ways of virtue just narrated, he will 
 know and feel that in seeking God's face, he returns to happiness. Once 
 LOST, he will be found. 
 
 |(oIin |;unirk, |1;islor of tk ^ctbUIrcms (ilTurdr, ^frliit. 
 
 T is now twentj'-seven years ago since this excellent man 
 left the stage of life ; but to many good people in Berlin 
 it seems like yesterda}'. One venerable man, at whose 
 house we were late!}' spending a few days in that city, 
 said to us : " When you mention Jaenicke's name, I feel 
 as if the wheels of time had ceased to revolve since then, 
 and as if I was just returning from that extraordinary funeral procession 
 wliich accompanied him to his long home, the scene is so vividly before 
 me." 
 
 " That was a wondrous procession," he went on to tell. " Down the 
 Wilhelmstrasse went, first, hundreds of children, dressed in white, wali<;- 
 ing three and three, strewing the roads with flowers, and many of them 
 with their tears, too — genuine, burning tears, gushing fresh from a 
 bleeding heart — such tears as pure affection weeps — such tears as angels 
 might have shed beside the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea when it re- 
 ceived its first occupant. A missionary carried an open Bible on a 
 cushion. The coflin was borne in turn b}' twelve missionary students, 
 twelve Bohemians, and twelve students of theology. All the clergy of 
 Berlin, without exception, followed. Thousands of thousands of all 
 ranks and stations, in a line which seemed to have no end, took part in 
 the procession ; many had travelled far to be there, and not a few faces 
 
AND I X S T R U C T I X . 225 
 
 bore evidence that tliey felt as if conveying a father to the grave. On 
 the coffin were written the words, 'I live, and ye shall live also.' That 
 great city seemed to many of us lonely the first night that Jaenicke slept 
 before the gates." 
 
 To what purpose, we thought on hearing this narrative, does the Most 
 High at times send men to tower so far above common mortals, and tlica 
 to die like ordinary individuals? Perhaps to keep us humble, when we 
 see that we have been so far surpassed. Perhaps to spur us on to greater 
 exertions than we have ever yet made. Perhaps to reveal his own wise 
 sovereignty, for he doeth as he will iu the armies of heaven and among 
 the inhabitants of the earth ; none can stay his hand, uor say unto him, 
 "What doest thou ? 
 
 John Jaenicke, whom we have thus introduced to our readers, was 
 ordained pastor of the Bohemian or Betldehcms church in 1779. At 
 that time, however, he was only assistant ; but from the year 1792, when 
 the smouldering fires of revolution sent their scorching blast over Ger- 
 many, up till his decease on the 21st of July, 1827, he was sole pastor. 
 There is, however, a long tale to tell, both about the church aud about 
 the pastor, previous to 1779. 
 
 TUB BOHEMIANS IN BERLIN. 
 
 The doctrines of the Reformation were at one time predominant ia 
 Bohemia, the richest counts and uobles being among the ranks of the 
 Protestants. The thirty years' war, however, aud the intrigues of the 
 Jesuits, brought about a counter-revolution, which is one of the blackest 
 pages in the world's history. The uobles died on the scafibld without a 
 crime being proved against them, and their lands were confiscated. 
 Hundreds forsook all they had in the world — wives, children, lauds — ■ 
 and fled to other kingdoms, where they could fare like the ravens, and 
 the sparrows, and the lilies, which God feeds and clothes without store- 
 Louse and without care. Those that remained at home were compelled 
 15 
 
226 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 to become Koman Catholics. Still at midnight, among the lonely gleus, 
 the dragoons sometimes discovered bands who had met to sing and pray 
 and commemoi'ate the dying love of their Lord. In the time of Leopold 
 I. and Charles VL of Austria, the persecution had become intolerable. 
 Reading the word of God, or even possessing a Bible, singing a psalm, 
 partaking of both bread and wine in the communion, were reckoned 
 crimes worthy of a punishment more severe than that of murder. Those 
 who wished to emigrate were uot allowed. Children were torn from 
 their parents to be educated as raj>ists. Parents were thrown into prison 
 until they became Eoinan Catholics. If they wished to escape, they 
 must smuggle themselves over the frontiers in the night, and act as the 
 Russian Jews now do to escape from the conscription. From about 1720, 
 till 1740, scarcely a night passed that some did not cross the borders into 
 Saxony, which was at that time a land of liberty. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Zittau, iive Bohemian families got leave to 
 settle. That was near the Austrian frontier. In the year 1726, a clergj'- 
 man, who had fled from the persecution, came to settle with them. Ho 
 was a faithful man, and in six years we find the number of exiles, which 
 had gathered around him, increased to about five hundred. Pastor 
 Liberda, for that was his name, preached so that sinners were awakened 
 and converted, and those who had been zealous Protestants they knew 
 not why, learned to love the Lord Jesus and to lead holy lives. The 
 country people came from far and near, and the road was thronged on 
 the Sunday morning with pious worshippers, going to hear the man who 
 could tell the secrets of their hearts and of their houses from the pulpit. 
 Roman Catholics who came, said that with their own clergy they must 
 tell the priest their sins before they got absolution ; but here was a man 
 who could tell them their sins — even such as they had not thought 
 of before — and could tell them too far more about the tiiie source of 
 absolution. The Protestants who came to hear Pastor Liberda went 
 home complaining of their own clergy, whom they had heard preaching 
 from childhood, and yet had never been told by them the glorious truths 
 
A N D I N S T R U C T I N . 12 I 
 
 of pardon and acceptance through faith in the blood of Christ — at lea.st 
 not in such a manner as to make them understand how the chief of sin- 
 ners could be justified simply by behev'ing on the Saviour. 
 
 After six years of rest and refreshment, the place became too small, and 
 above seven hundred of the Bohemian exiles rose to seek some other 
 hospitable home. On two carts they laid the sick and infirm, and in 
 forty-eight wheel-barrows, the children and the goods. After much wan- 
 dering, man}' crosses, much prayer, and many answers to prayer, they 
 arrived at last in Berlin. When all seemed dark around them on their 
 way thither, the}' united their voices in the Bohemian language, and 
 sang the 42d Psalm, " Why art thou cast down, my soul ? Still trust 
 in God. I shall ^^et praise him." And in brighter days the mountains 
 echoed back the strains of the 116th Psalm, "I love the Lord, because 
 he hath heard the voice of my supplication." 
 
 The king gave them leave to reside in the metropolis of Prussia, but 
 ho could not support them. Many a trial they were required to endure, 
 and they learned the practical meaning of the declaration, ""V^Hiom the 
 Lord loveth he chastcneth." Morning and evening they all met together 
 for reading the Scriptures and prayer ; during the day they toiled hard, 
 and when the Sunday came, after the good old Hussite customs, inherited 
 by them from their Waldensian fiithers, they remembered the Sabbath- 
 day to keep it holy. The king eventually ordered thirty-eight houses to 
 be built for them, that they might live together. By diligence and the 
 divine blessing, they became rich ; but in proportion as worldly means 
 increased, their piety decreased, and after the death of their pastor Liberda, 
 in 1742, all manner of quarrels broke out, till at last the congregation 
 divided into three parties — Lutheran, Ecformed, and ITerruhutter Bo- 
 hemians. 
 
 jaenicke's early life. 
 Afiiong the Bohemian settlers was a family named Jaenicke. The 
 father was by profession a weaver. However other families may have 
 
228 PORTFOLIO OF E X T E K T A I MI E N T 
 
 decreased in piety, in this liouse all went on in tlic good old way. 
 Family worship every morning and evening, the Sunda}- conscientiously 
 observed, hard work during the week, no idle hands tolerated — these 
 wore some of the " rules of the house." The mother used to say often 
 to her children and neighbours : " When we served God in the glens aijd 
 woods, and among the rocks, and could not even venture to read the 
 Bible at home, I vowed often to the Lord Jesus that I would be content 
 with a crust of dry bread and a drink of cold water, if we could only 
 enjoy the Lord's Supper as it was appointed ; and now we have a dwell- 
 ing, a church, and schools of our own, what shall we render to the Lord 
 for all his goodness?" It was in this spirit that she trained her five 
 children. 
 
 AVhen the son, John, had been long enough at school, liis father took 
 him home and taught him weaving. After he had learned his trade, he 
 set ofi", according to German custom, to improve himself by working in 
 other towns as a journeyman. A father's prayers, and a mother's tears 
 had not been in vain, for the j'oung man sought work only where he 
 knew he could keep his Sabbath, and, on the day of rest, he sought such 
 preachers as proclaimed the gospel. He knew that he was, like all man- 
 kind, a sinner, and that Christ is a Saviour; but he had never felt 
 burdened under sin, and fled to Jesus for relief; he prayed, however, and 
 read the Bible regularly ; he led a correct and consistent life, and thought 
 there was not any great fear of his state, and that if all the world were 
 like himself, a Saviour of sinners might be dispensed with. 
 
 One Sunday, while listening as usual very attentively to the sermon, 
 the preacher said : " Is there any one here who thinks that he is not a 
 sinner? Consider how great a sin it is, that from youth up you have not 
 loved your Saviour above everything else." 
 
 The young weaver left the church like a wounded roe with the arrow 
 quivering in the wound. lie hastened out to a shady retreat, and, for 
 the first time in his life, poured out an earnest prayer from a heart that 
 felt its own need of a Saviour. He had heard that what he had thousrht 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 229 
 
 to be his great honour, and an advantage above others, namely, his own 
 self-righteousness, was a great sin. His proud heart, which had not felt 
 the need of Jesus as a sinner's friend, cried aloud for pardon, and when 
 he rose from his knees, he felt that he had obtained mercy of God. He 
 sought the acquaintance of the pastor who had opened this door for him 
 into the mystery of the gospel, and the good man rejoiced as angels do 
 over a sinner who repents. On nearer acquaintance, the pastor thought 
 that something better than a weaver could be made out of him ; at least 
 a schoolmaster. So when the work was done in the evening, the young 
 weaver found himself sitting with the pastor learning Latin. In a short 
 time he was able to pass an lamination — possibly not a very severe one 
 — and was immediately appointed schoolmaster in the place where he 
 had first been led to the Saviour. He had not long, however, filled his 
 new post till the congregation grumbled, and thought that there was no 
 need for both a pastor and a schoolmaster ; the pastor might fill both 
 230sts as he had done before. The young schoolmaster accordingly being 
 dismissed, returned to his father's house in Berlin. 
 
 He now learned a little more Latin and Greek, and, thinking himself 
 very well advanced, he started for Halle to study theology. A j^astor 
 whom he visited on the road, and who examined the state of his know- 
 ledge, advised him not to go to the University, but to the Orphan-house 
 in Ilalle. But when he came there, however, he learnt that, as he was 
 now above twenty years of age, and did not know as much as the small 
 children in the institution, he could not be received at all, and must 
 return to Berlin. 
 
 A year later, we find him filling a situation as schoolmaster in Dresden. 
 In that city there was at that time a pious physician named Demiani, 
 who had private tutors giving instruction to his son, to prepare him for 
 the University. Young Jaenicke was invited to take part in these les- 
 sons. His patron being of opinion that all study without prayer is no 
 use, came occasionally and joined in earnest supplication with the two 
 youths fur a blesiing on tlieir s-tudics. A nobleman was eventually found 
 
230 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 ■willing to bear the college expenses for tlie young Bohemian schoolmas- 
 ter ; and in his twenty-sixth year he entered the University of Leipzic. 
 
 JAENICKE AS PASTOR. 
 
 Five years passed over, wliile Jaenicke pursued his studies at Leipzic, 
 and many a new view he obtained, and many an old opinion he learned 
 to lay aside. lie had been often on the very verge of making shipwreck 
 of his faith, but One that led him by a vray he knew not drew him 
 gently back into the fold. This time of storm and doubt and trial being 
 past, we find him, in his thirty-first year, oriaincd as assistant pastor in 
 the church where he had been baptized. 
 
 We have thus arrived at that important period of Jaenicke's life when 
 he entered upon the oflice of the Christian ministry. 
 
 The thousands assembled round his open grave, in 1827, felt that they 
 ■wei'e words of truth which were then pronounced in the funeral oration. 
 "^Vhen worldly wisdom," said the speaker, "raised its haughty head, 
 and the prince of darkness triumphed as if the field were all his own ; 
 when the shadow of death brooded over the church, and the preaching 
 of the cross of Christ seemed to be a stumbling-block and foolishness ; 
 it was then that this polished quiver in the hand of the Lord shone 
 brightest. The more he was mocked and maligned, the louder and 
 clearer did he proclaim pardon and full redempt*ion, in the one name of 
 Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Yes, when in the city he stood almost 
 alone, waving the banner of the cross, his solitary post on the watch- 
 tower made him only more fearless and undaunted in 25roclaiming, ' I 
 know nothing among you but Jesus Christ and him crucified !' While 
 he stood, the candlestick was not entirely removed out of its place. All 
 who came to him, seeking for peace, were shown first their complete 
 innate depravity, and the wrath to come to which they were exposed ; 
 they were then, with all their sins and demerits, pointed to the Lamb of 
 God, which taketh away the sins of the world, and to the faithful say- 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 231 
 
 LUg, worthy of all acceptation, ' that Jesus Christ is come into the world 
 to save sinners.' " 
 
 But let us look closer at the nature of Jaeuicke's work. lie found 
 that in his church the people had merely an educational Christianity. 
 They sung the hymns of their fathers, and heard the doctrines of the 
 gospel gladly, but their hearts were far from God. All this was mourn- 
 ful enough, hut the spirit of the times had crept over even the sons of 
 faithful martyrs and confessors, for, at the period of which we write, a 
 native of Berlin and an infidel were synonymous terms. Jaenicke'3 
 first aim was to bring the people more in contact with the word of God. 
 Accordingly, in addition to the usual services of the Sunday, he intro- 
 duced another service early in the morning, and on the Monday evening 
 he repeated his sermon. His style of 2:)reaching was earnest, and he 
 strove only that he might be understood. He drew his arguments pri- 
 marily from the word of God, but as he knew that human authority 
 weighed considerably with his audience, he took care to bring that also 
 to bear on his theme. On some theme?, however, he could find few 
 authorities. The doctrine of the eternal punishment of the wicked, for 
 example, was denied at that time in almost all the German universities. 
 But in his teacber, the famous Crusius, Jaenicke found support, and 
 would often quote his words, "Eternal life, eternal death, lie on the 
 scales ; the one or the other must be our lot. If the one is true, so is 
 the other; the evidence for both is exactly the same." Thus after 
 having previously proved his doctrines out of the Scripture, he weighed 
 human evidence against human authority, that they might counterbal- 
 ance each other, and the word of God be left free to speak or decide. 
 
 When the first French revolution broke out, crowds of people came 
 to his Monday evening's lecture. The maliciously disposed brought 
 pepper in snuff-boxes, which they handed freely round, in order to dis- 
 turb the congregation. The church required to be defended by soldiers, 
 to preserve some degree of order. At last Jaenicke was obliged to give 
 up his weekly lecture ; but the services ou the Sabbath continued as 
 
161 PORTFOLIO OF E N T E T, T A I X M E N T 
 
 before. It may well be supposed that the word of God from his mouth 
 did not return back emptj'. Once iu company, where one of the king's 
 privy councillors was present, he was made the subject of some severe 
 criticism and mockery: when the courtier was asked his opinion, he 
 replied: "I have seen many who stand and show us the way, but Jaen- 
 icke takes us by the hand, and goes with us in the right direction." 
 Four officers met Mm one night, coming home from his toils, and recog- 
 nizing him, began to rail at him as a fool and a madman. Jaenicke 
 turned calmly round, and made a rejily which they never forgot, and ere 
 many mouths had passed, all the four ofRcors were kneeling with him in 
 bis room iu pra^-er — converted men. Jaenicke's reply had pierced the 
 heart of one of these officers, and he had had no rest till he saw the 
 others coming, with himself, aud learning the way of life. This was 
 not a solitary instance ; many individuals were brought to experience a 
 change of heart, some suddenly, and many almost imperceptibly, by 
 means of his earnest preaching and his holy life. When the war had 
 set its iron heel on Prussia's brightest hopes, the number of his adhe- 
 rents increased gradually to a multitude — national affliction having done 
 its beneficial work. 
 
 ' After one of the great victories over the French, the king gave a 
 splendid dinner to his superior officers iu Berlin. When the wine had 
 circulated freely, no theme appeared so popular among the gallant com- 
 pany as the newest and raciest anecdotes calculated to make Jaenicke 
 ridiculous. When this conversation had continued for some time, a 
 general rose and asked the assembled company to name the man whoso 
 services had most conduced to gain the victory which they were cele- 
 brating. Many an answer was given. At last the general said : ^' I will 
 tell you, gentlemen. We have only played, but the man who really 
 fought and gained the conquest was the man on whom so muck ridicule 
 has been poured to-night. He gathered his congregation three times 
 every Sunday, and three times during the week, to pray to the Lord of 
 hosts for a blessing on our army; aud his prayers have prevailed. Gen- 
 
AND I N S T n V C T I N . 233 
 
 tlemen, does sucli a man deserve to be mocked? Does a man so faithful 
 to Lis God and to his king not merit from us the highest honour we can 
 bestow?" 
 
 Jaenicke lived to see tlie war brought to an end, and to witness better 
 days in the churcli in Berlin. Much of tliis improvement was to be 
 attributed to his own exertions ; but the great Master had awakened 
 other labourers, who saw eye to eye with bim. Still Jaenicke continued, 
 after the memorable year 1815, to preach as he had done before. Taking 
 for granted that there were some true followers of the Lamb in his audi- 
 ence, he addressed hearty words of consolation, and warning, and 
 encouragement to tliem ; but remembering also that the majority of his 
 hearers were, probably, unconverted people, he made it the great aim of 
 his life to bring them to Christ. He reasoned with tbem, talked with 
 them, told anecdotes, and made comments on the cuiTent events of the 
 time, thus bringing his gospel message to bear on the daily life of the 
 people. 
 
 TliC beginning of the present century was the cradle of missions; and 
 every one who was really in earnest with his work at home, took part 
 also in sending the gospel to the heathen. "What then was Jaenicke's 
 department of this work? He opened the first institution for the train- 
 ing of missionaries. It was on the first day of February, 1800, that he 
 ^received seven young men into his house, to train them for missionary 
 work among the heathen. Tlie next year a similar institution was 
 opened at Gosport, in England ; in 1810 one was opened in Ilolland ; 
 and in 1816 the great institution at Basle. The expense of Jaenicke's 
 school was borne by the well-known friend of missions, Schirding, the 
 keeper of the woods and forests in the electorate of Saxony. Scarcely 
 had this good man been employed to provide for the opening of the 
 institution, when it pleased the God of missions to leave Jaenicke to 
 expect the support of the establishment directly from Himself Schird- 
 ing met with pecuniary losses, and the inspector had either to give up 
 his undertaking in the tenth month of its existence, or else try the power 
 
2ii r OUT FOLIO OF F^" tfht a ix m i:x t 
 
 of prayer. His faith was put to the test; hut in the first mouth after he 
 was thrown on his own resoui'ces, he received thirty (.lolkirs more than 
 he rerpiired for current expenses. lie was not the man to give up what 
 he had ouce learned to be in accordance with the Divine will ; and be 
 eveutually received support from England, from Holland, from Switzer- 
 land, and from other sources, where he had never expected it. The mis- 
 sionary institution flourishes still in Eerliu. 
 
 Jaeuicke was a strict Lutheran, hut he was not sectarian. He received 
 students who loved the Lord Jesus, whatever their other views on eccle- 
 siastical matters might have been, and he strove to unlock the truths of 
 the Bible, that they might in going out among the heathen bring this 
 treasure, and only this, in their hands. He simply trained the mission- 
 aries for their work, while others formed societies to employ them. In 
 the twenty-seven years that he presided over the Berlin Missionary Insti- 
 tution, he thus trained above a hundred missionaries for the heathen and 
 for the Jews. Who has not heard of Christian Africaner? It was one 
 of Jaenicke's scholars, AllM'Ocht, who first ventured into his camp to 
 preach the gospel to him, and it was Ebnor, anotlier scholar of Jaenicke's, 
 who baptized him. To relate what the missionaries trained in this in- 
 stitution have accomplished, would be to give a history of missions in 
 the present century. Rhenius, of Tinnevelly, in India, who baptized 
 such a multitude of converts in tliat province: GutzlaiF, the Chinese 
 missionary; Nicolayson, of Jerusalem, wore among the names of those 
 who learned in Jaenicke's mission school. 
 
 When the British and Foreign Bible Society was founded in London, 
 liberal assistance was sent to Jaeuicke, whose missionary zeal was known 
 in England, and who gladly undertook to forward that great work. A 
 vast inducement to activity in this labour was the edict of toleration 
 Avliich Joseph of Austria had issued in 1781. By means of this, the 
 Protestants in Bohemia and Moravia were permitted once more to wor- 
 ship God according to the dictates of their conscience. Thousands had 
 embraced the opportunity of declaring themselves to be Protestants, and 
 
A\D I N ST n r r T 10 N. -■>■■> 
 
 demanding tlic privilege of toleration, lint tlieir Bibles liad Ijceii nearly 
 all burned, and Jaenieke rejoiecd, tlierelore, to have an o]i[iortunity of 
 sending the word of God once more to the land of his fathers. Thus 
 arose the Berlin Bible Socict}-, which still continues to scatter the word 
 of God so richly-. A few years later he founded the Berlin Tract So- 
 ciety, which has since then printed and circulated above five millions of 
 tracts; and, in both of these societies, he laboured indefatigably till the 
 time of his death. 
 
 It would bo a great mistake to suppose that by all these exertions, and 
 by his great kindness to the poor, Jaenieke had become a universally 
 popular man. He was, it is true, beloved by all who loved the Lord 
 Jesus. But the talent and the wit and the learning of the world could 
 never forget that this man's whole life was an uninterrupted call to come 
 to that Saviour whom they were appai'ontly resolved not to sect. As 
 Jacnicke's end approached, his mind became more serene, and his affec- 
 tions fixed ever more and more on Ilim who had loved him and washed 
 liim from his sins. On his eightieth birth-daj' he gathered some friends 
 around him, and delivered a sermon from the words, "Looking unto 
 Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." A few days later he \&y 
 down on what was to be his death-bed. "I have Jesus with me," ho 
 said. " I have found him faithful all my life through, and I will trust 
 his promise now. He cries, I live, and ye shall live also." At another 
 time he said : " I wish to depart and be with Christ ; and what makes 
 me so joyful now is my confidence in the work which Christ has done 
 for me, when be took away all my sin. The doing and the dying of 
 Christ ! that is my hope." As his end approached, he began to sing a 
 hymn of triumph, but stopped in the middle of the second verse; the 
 rest he may have sung above, for he knew that to be absent from the 
 body is to be present with the Lord. 
 
 Eeader, is not such a dying hour of sweet peace and well-grounded 
 assurance, worth living for? 
 
236 
 
 PORTFOLIO OF ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 fk §1dbUcu ^libcr ; nr, the (hsv^t flf ;i |)«gutuot |;imil2. 
 
 E" the history of the French nation, the reigns of Francis 
 n. and his successor Charles IX., are mainly remaricable 
 only for the persecutions which were actively and relent- 
 lessly carried on against the Huguenots, as the Protest- 
 ants of that country were called ; and which, while they 
 entailed heavy suiferings on the persecuted, plunged the 
 country itself into anarchy and strife, and, for a long series of years, im- 
 peded its prosperity. 
 
 During this long season of national and domestic confusion, when, in 
 a great number of instances, the words of the Lord Jesus Christ met with 
 their litei'al accomplishment, "A man's foes shall be they of his own 
 household" — were seen bright examples of endurance for righteousness' 
 sake ; of taking joyfully the spoiling of goods ; of faithfulness to Christ 
 and his gospel, even unto death ; and remarkable instances, also, of divine 
 interposition in the preservation of others who counted not their lives 
 dear unto them, so that they might finish their course with jo}-. In fill- 
 ing up, therefore, the minor details of events recorded in historj', we seek 
 to do justice to the brave hearts whose manifold temptations and trials 
 prepared them, we trust, for exalted honour in that glorious kingdom, 
 where those who have suftered for Christ shall reign with him ; as well 
 as to show that God has a providential care for his people — that he not 
 only can, but does, watch over those who trust in him, protecting them 
 from the fury of their enemies, and rescuing them when all hope of 
 deliverance from man seems to have terminated. Still more is it our 
 object to impress upon our readers the privileges which as Protestants 
 they enjoy, and the wisdom of jealously guarding them. 
 
AND INSTRUCTION. 237 
 
 In the deepening twilight of a summor's evening, a family' group was 
 assembled in a room of a chateau, a few leagues distant from the northern 
 bank of the Loire. It was a handsome apartment, containing rich old 
 furniture which showed that, whatever might be the present circum- 
 stances of the owners of the chateau, they had not been unused to the 
 luxuries of life. There was a lamp on the table, fed with purest oil, 
 which shed a cheerful light around, by which also might have been seen 
 that the single casement of the room was strongly shuttered and barred 
 — an evidence, this, of insecurity, if not of desired secrecy, or anticipated 
 danger. 
 
 The occupants of the apartment were females, with the exception of 
 two boys, the elder of whom had scarcely passed childhood. But the 
 mirth of childhood was absent, and had given place to an aspect of 
 gravity on the countenance of the elder, who, seated on the floor, sus- 
 tained the head of the sleeping brother on his knee, watching over him, 
 apparently with tender affection and jealous care. The slumbering child 
 was restless, and, occasionally, the movement of his lips, had they been 
 watched, miglit have betrayed tlie current of his dreaming thoughts : he 
 dreamt of his mother. 
 
 The lady to whom this title belonged was the more matronly of four 
 who, seated by the table, were varibusly occupied. She was of middle 
 age, and, in spite of a pallid cheek and anxious eye, retained traces of 
 exceeding loveliness. She was reading to her companions, in low and 
 slightly tremulous tones, from a book before her. Let us listen to the 
 words, as they softly fall from her lips : — 
 
 "And what shall I more say? for the time would foil me to tell of 
 Gideon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthae ; of David also, 
 and of Samuel, and of the prophets ; who through faith subdued king- 
 doms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouth of 
 lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out 
 of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight 
 
238 poBxroLio of entertainmext 
 
 tlie armies of the aliens. "Women received tlieir dead raised to life 
 again — ' " 
 
 "My father, my dear murdered father!" exclaimed a younger female, 
 who was seated beside the reader, and whose voice, though soft and 
 musical, was choked and broken by the sore distress which agitated her 
 countenance, and filled her dark eyes with tears. She had been em- 
 ployed in needlework, but as the words escaped her lips involuntarily, she 
 ceased from her occupation, and wept aloud. 
 
 "Be comforted, my dear friend," said the other, "let us think of Id/n 
 as happily escaped from trial and sorrow, and now among those who 
 'came out of great tribulation,' and of whom it is said that 'they are 
 before the throne of God, and serve him day and niglit in his temple ; 
 . . . they hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the suu 
 lioht on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the 
 throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of 
 waters ; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.' " 
 
 The words apparently struck a responsive chord in the mourner's heart. 
 She raised herself, and by a strong effort resumed the work which had 
 been thus briefly interrupted. Her tears had not entirely been subdued; 
 but they were accompanied by a rapturous smile. "It is even so," she 
 said ; " and we should rather rejoice when tliose we love have escaped 
 the malice of their enemies, who may torture and kill the poor body, but 
 liave nothing more that thej can do. Pardon me, madam, this interrup- 
 tion ; will j-ou read on ?" 
 
 " 'Women received their dead raised to life again,' " resumed the first 
 speaker; "'and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that 
 they might obtain a better resurrection ; and others had trial of cruel 
 inockings and scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment: 
 the}' were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain 
 with the sword ; they wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins ; 
 being destitute, afflicted, tormented, ^of whom the world was not worth}-;) 
 
AND I X S T R r C T 1 X . 23S 
 
 tliey wandered in deserts and in mountains, and in dens and caves of tbf 
 eartli.' " 
 
 The voice of the reader vi'as once more interrupted b}^ a faint cry, ar 
 of alarm, from the younger of two girls whom we have not yet intro 
 duced, and who had sat listening to their mother's words. 
 
 "Henrietta!" exclaimed the elder sister, almost impatiently, "this is 
 the seventh time within the last hour that you have started from your 
 seat. "What do you hear or dread ?" 
 
 "Xotliing, dear sister, nothing just now. I am very weak and foolish. 
 I thought I heard — but it must have been only fancy. Oh! I wish we 
 were anywhere else !"' and the trembler found relief in tears. 
 
 "xVnywhere else, Henrietta?" said the mother. 
 
 "Ah ! no, no," replied Henrietta, speaking rapidly ; " no, dear mother, 
 I did not mean anywhere else. I was not thinking of the convents 
 where they say we poor little Huguenots are to be shut up." 
 
 " When the}' can take us," interposed her sister, with a smile partly 
 of scorn, it may be, and partly of indignation. 
 
 There was a striking difference between the two sisters. We fancy 
 we must have seen their portraits; or, if not theirs, portraits which may 
 pass for those of Louisa and Henrietta, daughters of a noble family of 
 French Huguenots of the sixteenth century'. We have loved to gaze at 
 them, and to think of their history. 
 
 Of one, the younger, whose age could scarcely have exceeded twelve 
 years, the chief characteristics are gentleness and resignation, expressed 
 by a timid downcast eye, and a pensive smile. The form is slight and 
 fragile ; the countenance eminently lovely. Not more lovely, however, 
 than that of the sister, around whom her fair arm is folded, as though 
 seeking support from her superior strength of body and firmness of mind. 
 There may be a difference of two or three years between them ; and the 
 quick penetrating glance of the dark eye, shaded and softened by the 
 long black eyelashes of the elder sister, together with the decision which 
 lurk ai'oLiud her lips, tell of the will and power to dare and do. 
 
240 PORTFOLIO OF E X T E 11 T A I X M E X T 
 
 "Wlieu tliey can take us," said Louisa. 
 
 "And who can say that we are safe for an hour?" asked her sister. 
 " Does not our mother say that we are all in great danger ? And does 
 not Catherine say they are hunting all through the land for such as we ? 
 And are we not obliged to hide ourselves from day to day, if a stranger 
 comes near the chateau ? Oh ! if our father were here !" 
 
 "You may escape the hiding and hunting, Henrietta, if you please," 
 said Louisa, coldly: "you have only to go to the nearest priest you 
 know " 
 
 "Louisa!" exclaimed the younger girl, forgetful of the danger of 
 which she had just spoken, and of her fears, while her cheek burned 
 with momentary excitement — " do you thiuk me so cowardly and des- 
 picable ? Oh ! how you must despise me if you fancy I could, to save 
 myself from sufl'ering, or even from death, turn from — " 
 
 "Dear Ileurietta," rejoined her sister, throwing her arm around her, 
 " I am sure you would not. I only meant to put a little Huguenot spirit 
 into you; and I have done it too," she added, fondly. "I fancy you 
 would not mind, at this momeut, facing a whole army of soldiers, to say 
 nothing of priests and monks." 
 
 "If the soldiers come," said the elder boy, raising himself proudh', 
 "I will not let them touch Ileurietta; they shall kill me iirst." 
 
 "Well said, Henry," replied Louisa; "with such a companion and 
 protector, we will not be afraid of the soldiers ; and I should be heartily 
 glad;" she continued, in a more natural tone, "if we were to think less 
 about them. I hate this whispering under breath, and this creeping into 
 holes and corners every day. I do not see why we should be afraid of 
 our own voices and shadows : we seem Uke those who flee when no one 
 pursues. Only say, dear Henrietta, that you forgive me, and then " 
 
 The younger sister had disengaged herself from Louisa's embrace, and 
 was bending over her brother. The colour had not left her brow, and 
 her eyes still sparkled with animated brilliance. At that moment, it 
 might have been hard to say which of the two would have been the 
 
A X D I X S T R r C T I X . 241 
 
 stronger to bear and to sutt'cr. The mother looked ou in sadness. She 
 knew more fully than they, how imminent were the perils by which they 
 were surrounded. That day she had received intelligence of a brutal 
 massacre of fellow-Protestants, who had been lulled into false security by 
 a deceitful and treacherous peace; and of the proscription and pursuit of 
 the leaders of the Huguenot army. Among these was her own husband ; 
 and it might be that, at this very hour, he was, like those of whom she 
 had just been reading, "wandering in deserts and mountains," or hiding 
 " in dens and caves of the earth," even if he had until then escaped the 
 hands of his persecutors and pursuers. 
 
 Nor was this the only cause for deep and wearing anxiety. Persecu- 
 tion was daily waxing more fierce, and the enemies of the hated Hugue- 
 nots were putting into execution every means of harassment and distress: 
 resistance had enraged them, and success had quickened their appetite 
 for revenge. The houses and estates of the more wealthy among the 
 Protestants held out strong temptations to plunder, to the more depraved 
 of their fellow-countrymen; while conscientious Roman Catholics availed 
 themselves of every facility which the laws atibrded for the conversion, 
 either by force, persuasion, or fraud, of those whom they believed to be 
 wanderers from the true fold — the end, according to some at least, justi- 
 fying the means. And where these failed, bonds and imprisonment, 
 fines and confiscations, often death itself, awaited those among the 
 Huguenots who fell into tlie power of their opponents. 
 
 The family to which we have introduced our readers had already 
 sufi:ered much, ou account of tlieir firm adherence to what they believed 
 to be the truth of the gospel. Alienation from former friends and 
 kindred, confiscation and worldly ruin, had pressed beavil}' upon tliem. 
 Whether it be in any case justifiable for the followers of our Saviour to 
 take up arms in defence of civil and religious liberty, and in self-defence 
 against oppression and violent persecution, we need not discuss. The 
 Huguenots had thus resisted ; and the father of Louisa and Henrietta 
 held, as we have said, a distinguished position in the Protestant army, 
 lli 
 
242 r K T F ij L 1 OF F x T i; i; t a i :c Ji e .\ t 
 
 Avhich Lad amoug its leaders the Prince de Conde and Admiral Coligu\-. 
 In his absence, his wife and children were exposed to perpetual danger, 
 in the old chateau, where they remained secluded, and suffered much 
 privation, iu addition to frequent alarms. Of all their former servants, 
 one only had constancy enough to remain to share their shattered for- 
 tunes ; and to Catherine's constant activity the}' were indebted for the 
 few daily comforts they still possessed, and, what was of more importance, 
 for the earliest intelligence of surrounding movements. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dangers to which its inhabitants were exposed, 
 and the uncertainty of the future, the chateau had become an asylum to 
 one on whom the storm had still more severely fallen. Kot long before 
 the day of which we write, a Huguenot minister had been cruelly put to 
 death ; and his daughter, rescued from the same fate by the bravery of 
 her murdered father's friend, had been received into his family. 
 
 It is not to be greatly wondered at that, under such circumstances, the 
 mother's eye glanced often anxiously around, and that her mind sought 
 vainly for consolation, except in the promises of her God. She might 
 even be pardoned the passionate and unconditional praj-er which some- 
 times rose to her lips, that her children might rather be taken by death 
 from the evil to come, than to be called to endure the bitter experiences 
 Avhich were daily falling on others. But her piety rebuked the wi.-h, 
 and her faith substituted the fervent petition that the day of fiery trial, if 
 it should come, might find them prepared by divine grace and assisted 
 by divine power " to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to 
 stand." 
 
 This time was nearer than even she, probably, had feared. 
 
 " Only saj- that you forgive me, Ilenrietta," said the elder sister ; " and 
 then, lot the trial come when it will, we shall be better able to meet it." 
 
 The sisters clasped hands in token of reconciliation, if this were needed ; 
 but the spirit of the younger had been too effectually roused to sink 
 down instantly into its former quiescence. 
 
A X D I X s T u f r T I (I X . 243 
 
 "Yes, lot them come," she answered, in ecbo to her sister's words; 
 " let them come, and " 
 
 It seemed as though the defiance had invoked the peril most to be 
 dreaded. A noise was beard in another apartment; and the hurried 
 entrance of Catherine, imploring the aroused and agitated group to flee 
 for their lives, was succeeded by that of an armed man, who slowly ad- 
 vanced towards the shrinking females. 
 
 "My brother! Louis!" exclaimed the mother; but her tones were faint 
 and wavering. These were times when, as we have intimated, family 
 ties were often efltectually severed by religious diiierences ; and in this 
 instance, the Huguenot lady had more to dread than to hope from a 
 brother whom she knew to be a relentless persecutor of her faith. 
 
 "Yes, madam, your brother," replied the intruder: "it is nothing 
 wonderful, surely, tbat a brother should visit a sister: it is long since 
 v:e met." 
 
 "Long, Louis, very long; would God the time were come when 
 brother and sister could again meet in love !" 
 
 "Enough of this," said the brother, looking round on the small and 
 defenceless part}-, who, gathering round her, cast doubtful glances at the 
 unexpected visitor; "I trust you have a welcome to bestow me." 
 
 " Surel}', Louis ; a double welcome if it be in peace that you are bere," 
 replied the sister. 
 
 " "Why not in peace, Margaret ? Do you suppose I make war on 
 ■women ? And these are your children ?" he added inquiringly, taking 
 the younger boy in his arms; "a pity that so " 
 
 "Brother," said the lady, "let us forget our difliereuces in creed, while 
 you share in such hospitalities as the exigencies of the times have left in 
 luy power to offer. Will it' please you to remove your travelling dress, 
 and — and your weapons," she added, after a momentary hesitation. 
 
 "It may not be," replied the brother. "Margaret, my mission has 
 reference to that subject." 
 
 "Alas ! I feared so," she said, mournfully; "speak it then, Louis." 
 
244 r i; T r T. I of e x t k r, t a i x m k x t 
 
 "lam come to ofler joii pardon, IMargaret, and restoration to your 
 property ; protection in its enjoyment, and advancement for your 
 children." 
 
 " On what condition, Louis ?" 
 
 "You need scarcely ask the question, my sister," he replied; "you 
 must ahandou your heresy, and enter " 
 
 " ISTever !" exclaimed the sister, firmly. " 0, Louis, let me rather 
 entreat you to return to the faith of j'our earliest years. Eememher our 
 sainted mother, and the lessons of her life and lips ; think of the prayers 
 she taught you, and the word on which she rested her hope of eternal 
 salvation !" And as she spoke, tears gushed from her eyes, her timidity 
 vanished, and she laid one hand on her brother's arm, while the other 
 rested on the still opened volume on the table. 
 
 The visitor drew back from the touch, and placed the boy on the floor, 
 who ran sobbing to his mother's side. "I expected as much," said the 
 cavalier, calml^', "I am not here, Margaret, to argue with you, but to 
 ofter you terms of submission. If you refuse, the consequeuces will be 
 of 3'our own choosing." 
 
 "My Saviour will help me to bear them," said the sister, in her turn 
 drawing back. But the transitory tinge left her cheek as she spoke, 
 and her daughters pressed nearer, as though to interpose their feeble pro- 
 tection. 
 
 " Do not be too sure of that," resumed the visitor, sternly- : " Margaret, 
 are these your daughters ?" 
 
 "Mine, Louis; yes, mine," said the mother; and then, probably, the 
 threatened consequences of which her brother had spoken flashed on her 
 mind, for she would have hurried her daughters from the room, but their 
 uncle stepped between them and the door. 
 
 " It is right then that we should be better acquainted," he said. " Mar- 
 garet, my nieces will accompanj' me this night. Prepare them for their 
 journey; and bid them farewell." 
 
 For a moment, the fortitude of the mother gave wa}- beneath the 
 
AND I .V S T R U C T I X . 245 
 
 stroke. The tliiug was come upon lier which she Lad for some time 
 feared. She uttered a cry of agony and entreaty: — "Anything hut 
 that, Louis ! Anything hut that !" 
 
 "We pass over the scene of poignant distress which followed ; the hope- 
 less resistance of the victims ; the oppressor's disregard of the mother's 
 prayers, and of the offer of the orphan guest to deliver herself up to the 
 rage of her murdered father's enemies and hers, as a suhstitute for the 
 daughters of her protector; and his refusal to reveal his ultimate inten- 
 tions with regard to them. He had attendants and horses without; and 
 in one short hour from the time of his secret intrusion into the chateau, 
 the sound of his horse's feet was dying away in the distance, and within 
 was heard — to use the expressive language of Scripture — "lamentation 
 and bitter weeping : the mother refusing to be comforted for her children, 
 because they were not." Such were the scenes but too often witnessed 
 in Protestant families. Oh ! what tongue can tell the privileges which 
 our country enjoys, in being free from such sources of woe ! 
 
 It is one of the blessed effects of adversity that it draws the children 
 of God nearer to their heavenly Father, and causes them to have re- 
 course, with more anxious solicitude and fervency, both to the throne and 
 the word of grace ; and it is equally true that seasons of fiery trial, while 
 they test the sincerity of faith and hope, are remarkable for the courage 
 anil fortitude with which the naturally timid and weak have been en- 
 dued, to meet every otherwise overwhelming emergencj-. 
 
 It was thus with the nobly-born and delicately-nurtured Iluguenot 
 mother whom we have introduced to our readers. Persecution had, at 
 length, touched her at the tenderest point. Her daughters had been 
 violently and cruelly removed from her sight and p)rotection — perhaps 
 never to be restored. Her brother's object in their forcible abduction 
 was avowedly to detach them from the influence of what he deemed to 
 b;> a false heretical religion ; and she too well knew that no scruples of 
 tenderness and affection would interpose between them and any amount 
 of suffering, so that that object was attained. Thev would be thrust 
 
240 PORTFOLIO OF E X T E U T A I N jr E N T 
 
 probably iuto a conveut; and recourse would be bad, in turns, to bland- 
 isbments and tbreats, indulgences and privations, to entice or compel 
 tbem to renounce tbeir Protestant faitb. All tbis was terrible ; but, on 
 tbe otber band, tbe motber believed tbat ber God, wbom sbe served, was 
 able to deliver, not only berself, but bers, from tbe malice of tbeir 
 enemies. 
 
 It may be, also, tbat sbe did not despair of some manifest interposi- 
 tion of Divine Providence on bebalf of her cbildren. She could call to 
 mind instances in wbich extraordinary and unfoi'eseen events bad, during 
 tbe present calamities, baffled tbe scbemes of tbe enemies of tbe perse- 
 cuted ; and turning to tbe divine records for support and encouragement, 
 slie would at least be reminded of One wbo is "a very present belp in 
 trouble;" while there were promises which, though not engaging tem- 
 poral protection and deliverance, might quicken ber faitb and enliven 
 ber hope that even this was not too bard for tbe Lord. Thus when she 
 read, in immediate connection with the sublime and pathetic passage 
 which represents, in prophetic language, tbe lamentation and bitter 
 weeping of a bereaved mother, tbe inspiriting encouragement : " Thus 
 saith the Lord, Eefi-ain thy voice from weeping, and thine ejca from 
 tears ; for thy work shall be rewarded, saith the Lord : and they shall 
 come again from the land of tbe enemy. And tbei-e is hope in thine 
 end, saith the Lord, that thy children shall come again to their own 
 border" — the Huguenot mother might, without incurring the charge 
 of presumption, venture to apply the language to her own case, and to 
 the spiritual, if not the temporal condition of her captive daughters. 
 Or when, turning to the exalted and inspired strains of another of Is- 
 rael's prophets, she again read: "Thus saith the Lord, Fear not; for I 
 have redeemed thee : I have called thee by thy name ; thou art mine. 
 When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through 
 the rivers, they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through tbe 
 fire, thou sbalt not be burned ; neither shall tbe flame kindle upon thee" 
 — she might justly believe tbat promises so exceedingl}- great and pre- 
 
A X D INST R U C T I N . 247 
 
 cious wore tbo lieritag'c of all believers; and if not literally fulfilled, 
 would assuredly meet with a glorious accomplisbmcnt iu the grace and 
 strength imparted to all faithful servants of the great Master. 
 
 Leaving her, then, to such consolation as she might he permitted to 
 draw from the Scriptures, which she loved, and from her knowledge of 
 God, in whom she trusted, we turn to another scene. 
 
 In the depths of a forest, several miles from the chateau of which we 
 have spoken, a feeble band of fugitives were snatcliing a short space at 
 mid-day for rest and repose. Horses, not divested of their trapjiings, 
 were grazing around, secured from straying, and their riders were at 
 hand, ready at any moment of alarm to remount and continue their 
 tliglit. Among the fugitives were many women and cliildren, though 
 now sharing in the fatigue of a forced march with the meanest and 
 hardiest soldier in their small escort. For some amongst them, the 
 weakest and feeblest, litters had been provided, while the stronger had 
 followed on foot. 
 
 Shaded by an overspreading tree, the more distinguished of the party 
 were gathered, some standing, some seated in consultation, and messen- 
 gers or scouts were frequently disappearing and returning with intelli- 
 gence. In this group might have been seen a delicate female, whose 
 evident weakness demanded the quiet and seclusion of home, and ^^-hose 
 bearing indicated high rank and station. She was of noble birth ; her 
 husband, now Ijy her side, was a prince of France; her children — 
 sharers in her flight — were entitled to worldh- distinction and royal 
 favour. Standing over these, with a child in his arms — his j-oungest 
 motherless one — was a man past middle age, of distinguished bearing, 
 wise in council, brave in fight, steady in his adherence to the cause he 
 had espoused, and to whom a peculiar interest has since attached, as one 
 of the victims of the massacre of St. Bartholomew's day, a few years only- 
 after the date of our narrative. Seated near was a lad}-, the wife of a 
 general in the Huguenot armj-, and her infant child, now endeavouring 
 to esca[ie fi'om her husband's enemies and her own. 
 
 The intelligence brought to the leaders of the party was evidently per- 
 
248 PORTFOLIO OF E N T F ]; T A I X M E X T 
 
 plexing. Their enemies were in full pursuit; the country around was 
 already swarming with hostile trooi^s ; the hridges and fords of the Loire 
 were guarded to intercept the passage of the fugitives ; and a few hours 
 M'ould prohahh- witness their capture. One circumstance only appeared 
 to favour a hope of present escape : the party had Ijeen conducted by one 
 of their number, who, well acquainted with the bj'-roads of the district, 
 had hitherto succeeded in baffling pursuit, and who yet held out hope 
 of crossing the Loire unseen and unsuspected. To render his plan of 
 escape available, however, a halt of some hours was necessary; and leav- 
 ing the leaders of the fugitive band to take such precautions against 
 Budden surprise as the nature of their present concealment admitted, we 
 return to the chateau. 
 
 Another evening had fallen, and the diminished family was once more 
 assembled in the apartment which had so lately witnessed the scene of 
 violence we have described, when a faint tapping, repeated at intervals, 
 aroused the watchful attention of Catherine, who joyfully declaring that 
 it was her master's signal, sprang from the room to give him admittance. 
 
 "My husband !" exclaimed the Huguenot lady, hastily following her 
 servant, and returning shortly afterwards leaning on the arm of the 
 cavalier who had acted as guide to the fugitives. 
 
 "You are returned to a desolate home, dearest husband." 
 
 "I know it all, Margaret," he replied, in tones in which manly forti- 
 tude struggled with grief, and both with military sternness and decision. 
 "I learned only this afternoon the unhappiness which has befallen us. 
 May God give you patience to bear, dear wife, and me power to avenge." 
 
 " Dearest Henry, you forget who has said, 'Vengeance is mine.' But 
 is there no means of rescue ?" 
 
 " Not now ; the time will come, never fear it ; and till then j-our brother 
 will not dare to harm the girls. But now, Margaret, you must leave the' 
 chateau; there is no safety here." 
 
 "Alas, Henr}'! and where is safety now?" 
 
 The husband shook his head sadl}-. "Comparative and temporary 
 safety may be found elsewliere ; here is extreme danger. Listen, Marga- 
 
A X D I X i T n r (• T I X . 240 
 
 ret! our prince and Coligti y liave been cornj)elIe(l to seek safety iu tliglit; 
 the princess and her children — the ladies other small court — Coligny's 
 children — Andelot's wife and her children, one an infant at the breast, 
 you know — all accompany them; there is no securitj' for one of our 
 families on this side the Loire ; should we succeed in passing over, we 
 may reach Rochelle in safety; I have guided them thus far, aiid have 
 undertaken to conduct them to the ford of Sancerre. I pray God wo 
 may reach it; but troops are in close pursuit, and every road is beset 
 with danger. There is no time to lose ; to-morrow will be too late." 
 
 " Why then, Henry, have you left our friends ? It will be a happiness 
 too dearly purchased to have bartered this short interview for their safety." 
 
 " They are now on the road, Margaret ; I am to meet them a few miles 
 hence. I have brought two spare horses, and wait only for you and 
 ours to prepare for the journej-. Our dear j'oung friend, our poor boys, 
 and Catherine; all must leave the chateau." 
 
 " Ilenrj- ! and our daughters in the hands of our bitterest foes ?" 
 
 "There is no remedy, Margaret," said the Huguenot soldier, "a few 
 hours hence, and you also would be in their hands ; you must flee." 
 
 "But, Henry, should our girls escape and return to the chateau? 
 Dear husband, take the hoy?, and Catherine, and our friend, and permit 
 me to remain. Our hiding-place in the forest may be undiscovered, and 
 God may direct our children thither." 
 
 " It may not be, Margaret ; I would not, for all France, leave you to 
 the fearful risk of remaining behind. The king has sworn our ruin, and 
 you well know what that implies ; the calamity which has already be- 
 fallen us is but a foretaste of what will follow if you fall into his power. 
 Margaret, you must escape while you may." 
 
 "Dearest husband, I cannot; will not God protect his own? Surely 
 he will help ns." 
 
 "He will help us, Margaret. He helps us now, by pointing out a way 
 of safety by human means. If we neglect this, why should we expect a 
 miracle on our behalf" 
 
 " Monsieur is right," interposed Catherine, coming forward. " Madame 
 
250 p R T r o 1. 1 OF i: .\ t i: i; t a i a ji e n t 
 
 must go, but it needs not tliat Catherine sliould accompany her. Pcr- 
 mit me to stay behind, dear madame ; the storm tliat lays the forest tree 
 low, may spare the wood which has sprung up beneath its shade. I shall 
 be safer bore than madame, and will remain in my father's cottage, and 
 if God should send back our lost ones " 
 
 "There is wisdom in your plan, Catherine, if you will dare venture. 
 I had thought of this, but would not seem so selfish as to propose it," 
 said the husband. "Margaret," he added, "time hastens, we should ere 
 now have been mounted ; our boys " 
 
 Half an hour later, and the chateau was deserted; and in the gloom of 
 approaching night, a slight female form might have been dimly dis- 
 cerned, stealing cautiously into a neighbouring forest, till she halted at 
 the hut of a charcoal burner; and then miglit have been heard by a 
 curious listener, first a hurried conversation, and tlieu the low deep voice 
 of a man in earnest supplication that God in his own good time would 
 arise to scatter tlie enemies of his truth, and turn again the captivity of 
 his people. Moanwile, the hurried tramp of horses through the distant 
 glades of the same forest, breaking through tlie stillness of niglit, an- 
 nounced that the fugitives had proceeded thus far unmolested. 
 
 The sun rose brightly, and the waters of the Loire glided peacefully 
 along, shrunken and diminished in volume by a long continued summer 
 drought. Tlie scene was at once lovely and lonelj-. In some spots woods 
 approached the banks of the river, on either side, casting deep shado\\s 
 on the intervening waves; in others, a broad expanse of cultivated plains 
 threw open the same waves, as they rolled onwards, to the calm sun- 
 shine. On the southern side, the towers of Sancerre were visible. 
 
 Some time later a new feature was added to the scene. Emerging 
 from a dark forest on the northern banks, a band of travellers were 
 descried, hastening onwards. Men, women, and children were there, 
 way-worn and travel-stained. At first sight of the gently flowing river, 
 a glad shout of thankfulness was raised, which swelled at length into a 
 hymn of praise; and then the weary fugitives, whom we have already 
 described, increased in number by the family of the chateau, and others 
 
A X I) I X ?■ T i: r r T I \ . 2.'! 
 
 who during- the iiiglit march Iiml jniiieil tliem, qnirkly passed over tlio 
 iutervening ground. Eat little time eonld ho spared for deliberation. 
 The ford was reached, and it rniglit he tliat tlieir enemies, deceived by 
 the rapidity and secrecy of their flight, would, for a few hours, he thrown 
 out in their pursuit. But safety was not 3-et attained. 
 
 Pressing forward, then, preceded by their guide, the devoted band 
 entered the river — the princel}' leader bearing his infant child in his 
 arms, and, with liis compatriot, encouraging the faint tind feeble to follow. 
 
 The ford was passed, and the fugitives had gained .secure footing on 
 the southern bank, when suddenly dark and threatening clouds obscured 
 the sky, and a storm rapidly gathered, accompanied by rain so violent 
 that the current of the river was almost instantaneously swollen from a 
 gentle stream, which, at the ford, scarcely' rose above the horse's knees, 
 to a deep, impetuous, and impassable torrent ; while, croucliing beneath 
 the fury of the storm, on a near eminence, the fugitives silently adored 
 the good providence of God which had thus far preserved and guided them. 
 
 But a new cause for gratitude was manifest when, on casting their 
 eyes across the river, at the ceasing of the storm, a large body of horse- 
 men were seen galloping along the banks they had so recently quitted ; 
 and, after seeking in vain for a safe passage across the flood, retiring in 
 mad rage that the intended captives, whom they had closely followed 
 through the night, and whom they had looked upon as already delivered 
 into their hands, were thus, by the marvellous interposition of a divine 
 and overruling power, assisted in escaping from their fury. 
 
 "This is wonderful !" exclaimed a voice from among the fugitives: 
 " this the Lord's doing, it is marvellou's in our eyes." And then, per- 
 chance, a solemn song of devout thanksgiving and praise might have 
 been heard, as they slowly withdrew from the scene of their enemies' 
 discomfiture : — 
 
 " If it had not hcon the Lord who was on our side, 
 Now may Israel say ; 
 If it had not been the Lord who was on our side, 
 
2o2 PORTFOLIO OF E X T E K T A I N .M E N T 
 
 When men ro?c up against us; 
 
 Then they had swallowed us up quick, 
 
 When their wraih was kindled against us; 
 
 Then the waters had overwhelmed us, 
 
 The stream had gone over our soul; 
 
 Then the proud waters had gone over our soul. 
 
 " Blessed be the Lord, 
 Who hath not given us a prey to their teeth, 
 Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers ; 
 The snare is broken, and we are escaped. 
 Our help is in the name of the Lord, 
 Who made heaven and earth." 
 
 "Dear husband," said Margaret, as they pressed forward among their 
 friends, " we shall yet see our children in peace. God will not desert 
 them." 
 
 The confidence of the Huguenot mother in the tender care of her 
 Heavenly Father, as expressed above, was not misplaced. The distressed 
 parents, in company with the fugitive band so marvellously rescued from 
 impending peril, after a series of dangers and escapes, reached the city 
 of Rochelle, where they found themselves surrounded by friends. Here, 
 after a time, they were rejoined by their missing daughters. From the 
 relation which they gave of their adventures since their forcible sejiara- 
 tion, it appeared that the^' had been conve^'ed to a convent, where every 
 effort was made to undermine their faith, and to detach them from their 
 religious associations ; but, happily, without success. Frustrated in these 
 endeavours, resort was had to the terrors with which the Eomish system 
 arms its emissaries : these appliances, however, equally' failed of their 
 intended purpose. "While suffering the rigours of persecution, an oppor- 
 tunity was providential!}' offered for their escape, of which they gladly 
 availed themselves, and after a succession of alarms, privations, and hair- 
 breadth escapes, they were enabled to reach the same a.sylum which liaJ 
 
A \ D I X .? T R r C T I X . '2.I-, 
 
 tor some time sheltered their anxious parents. Here, once more restored 
 to the bosom of their family, we leave them in possession of a joy which 
 may be better imagined than described. 
 
 We may remark, in conclusion, that the striking incidents which we 
 have endeavoured to illustrate, are but a specimen of the domestic sepa- 
 rations, the family- anguish, and the individual suffering cndnred by 
 thousands of faithful witnesses ffir God at the period of frightful persecu- 
 tion under notice. But times of extraordinary trial are generally marked 
 l»y unusual manifestations of the divine care and loving kindness ; and 
 interpositions like that of the sudden storm and the swollen river, by 
 which God's friends were succoured and his enemies baffled, were not 
 of infrequent occurrence; thus teaching his people that they shall not 
 trust in him in vain. 
 
 ^luciiotcs at gr. |uitsfln. 
 
 BY MKS. E. C. JUDSON. 
 
 T was often remarked by Dr. .Judson, that the religion 
 lfA»"T:r\ of the Romanists could not prevail very extensively in 
 Burmah, as it is unsuited — at least as presented by 
 the Portuguese and Italian priests — to the character of 
 ^'^gas*^^— - their minds. It is seldom that a pure Burman enters 
 '^^)\ ^ their church, which consists almost exclusively of Portu- 
 guese half-castes. That is the reason, also, why they remain with safety 
 under the Burmese government — proselytism being the only thing in 
 foreign religions to which the Buddhists object. In illustration of the 
 common misapprehension of Burmese character by Romish priests, he 
 one day related an anecdote. In the early days of the mission, two of 
 his native assistants came to inrpiire if it would lie wrong for them to 
 visit the Roman Catliolic priest, and learn something of his doctrines. 
 
254 PORTFOLIO OF EXTEKTAIXMEXT 
 
 After ascertaining that their object was not to annoy, but reallj' to seek 
 information, he assured them that it would be quite right to go, and that 
 he had not the slightest objection. The next time he met them, they 
 declared, with some degree of mortification, that they had never been 
 treated so like silly children in all their lives. The priest had received 
 them very kindly, calling them his children, and was overjoyed to learn 
 that they wished to know something of his religion. He then retired 
 into an inner room, and soon came out, with one hand hidden under his 
 robe, and very softly and smilingly inquired, "What think you, my dear 
 children, I have here ?" at the same time assuring them it was sometliing 
 "very precious," "more precious than gold," something he would not 
 part with for his life, etc. After a while he cautiously gave a slight peep, 
 then a little more, and a little more, till finally the whole of some saintly 
 relic, of which his visitors could not have the slightest appreciation, was 
 held up before their eyes. The Burmans owned that, uncivil as it might 
 appear, they remained silent, uncertain whether it was not the object of 
 the priest to insult them. Presently he discovered that something was 
 wrong, and returned to his room. When he again appeared, he was 
 robed anew, and with the same soft, insinuating smile, he inquired, 
 "Noiv, my dear children, what do you think I have brought you ?" The 
 men shook their heads. " Oh, no," he continued, "you need not trj' to 
 guess, you never could guess : it is one of the loveliest, the most beauti- 
 ful things in the universe." Gradually, little by little, his robe was again 
 opened, and the wonder permitted to peep forth, though still concealed 
 by his hand, while he whetted curiosity by lavishing upon it the most 
 extravagant praises. At last the treasure was fully exposed, and proved 
 to be a small statuette of her whom the priest assured them was "the 
 mother of God." The newly-converted Christians were shocked, and 
 still more so at being called on to shoko to this doll, as they called it. 
 They went from the priest's dwelling with the conclusion on their minds, 
 that if they were ever left to the sin of idolatry, their own Gaudama, 
 with the godship wrought out by his own persevering self-discipline, was 
 a more dignified object of worship than this Jewish woman. And they 
 
A X D I N S T II r C T I .\ . J.jD 
 
 nsud iiftorwards to allude, not intVeqticntly, to the time tliCN* went to 
 inquire after grave matters of religion, and were amused by ebildreu's 
 playthings. 
 
 A native Christian woman told me that she was at one time about to 
 engage in something which Dr. Judson considered not conducive to her 
 spiritual good. lie sent for her, and remonstrated ; but she would not 
 give up lier darling project. "Look here !" said he, eagerly snatching a 
 ruler from the table, and tracing a not very straight line on the floor; 
 " here is where you liave been walking. You have made a crooked 
 track, to be sure — out of the patli half of the time ; but then you have 
 kept near it, and not taken to new roads, and you have — not so muclr 
 as you might have done, mind, but still to a certain extent — grown in 
 grace; and now, with all this growth upon your heart and head, in the 
 maturity of your 3'cars, with ripened understanding and an every-daj' 
 deepening sense of the goodness of God, here," bringing down the ruler 
 with emphasis to indicate a certain position, " liere you stand. You know 
 where this path leads. You know what is before you — some struggles, 
 some sorrows, and finally eternal life and a crown of glory. But to tiie 
 left branches otf another very pleasant road, and along tlie air floats, 
 rather temptingly, a pretty bubble. You do not mean to leave the path 
 you have \valked in fifteen years — fifteen long years — altogether; you 
 only want to step aside and catch the bubble, and think you will come 
 buck again : hwt you never will. Woman, think ! Dare you deliberately 
 leave this strait and narrow path, drawn by the Saviour's finger, and go 
 away for one moment into that of your enemy ? "Will you ? ivill you ? 
 
 WILL YOU ?" 
 
 " I was sobbing so," said the woman, " that I could not speak a word; 
 but he knew, as he always did, what I meant ; for he knelt down, and 
 prayed that God would preserve me in my determination. I have made 
 a great many crooked tracks since," she added, tearfully ; " but^ when- 
 ever I am unusually tempted, I see the teacher as he looked that da^-, 
 bending over in his chair, the ruler placed on the floor to represent me, 
 bis finger pointing along the path of eternal life, his eye looking so 
 
2oG PORTFOLIO OF EMEU T A I .\ Jl E X T . 
 
 strangely over his sLouluer, and that terrible ' Will you?' coming from 
 his lips as though it was the voice of God ; and I pray just as Peter did, 
 for I am frightened." 
 
 One of the native assistants, speaking of Dr. Judson's knowledge of 
 Burmese character, said that it was particularly impossible to conceal a 
 sin from him; and, while a culprit was exulting in fancied security, he 
 would suddenly find an eye fixed upon him that was perfectly irresistible, 
 and would be obliged, in spite of himself, to go to the teacher and con- 
 fess. He also said that Dr. Judson never accused except upon an abso- 
 lute certainty, nevei- insinuated a suspicion, and never placed any reli- 
 ance on a mere hearsay. He always interrupted any communication of 
 one Christian against another, with "Have you told him his fault be- 
 tween 3-ou and him alone?" Most likely this had not been done; and 
 the informer would always have some good reason for not taking up the 
 matter himself, but he " thought the teacher ought to know," etc. Prob- 
 ably hints like these, never openly acted on, gave the peculiar expres- 
 sion to the eye which the Burnian considered so very remarkable. "He 
 knew us," the man continued, "through and through, much better than 
 we knew ourselves. If we had done anything amiss, he called us plea- 
 santly, talked so" — taking up, by way of illustration, a toy that lay 
 upon the floor beside him, and passing his finger gently around the rim 
 — " talked, and talked, and talked, till suddenly, before we knew it, he 
 pounced upon us there," striking his finger violently on the centre of 
 the toy, " and held us breathless till we had told him everything. Ah, 
 no one will ever know us poor Burmans so again !" added the old man, 
 mournfully. 
 
 I recollect one day showing my husband two different newspaper 
 articles, in one of which he was compared to the apostle Paul, and iu 
 the other spoken of as the "beloved John." Instead of being amused, 
 as I had expected, at the contradiction, he exclaimed, with a sorrowful- 
 ness which made me regret having called his attention to the subject, 
 " Oh, how little — how little do they know me ! '"Who shall deliver me 
 from the body of this death V " 
 
<*^ 
 

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