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Lorsque le docii/^ent est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en i|h seul clichA, il est fllmA A partir de Tangle su|iiArieur gatiche, de gauche A droite, et de haut ^ii bas, en prenant le nombre d'Imagep nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suh/ants illustrent ia mAthode. / 1 2 3 » 5 6 ■ 1 H i y-' -V v' ^ ■ ^ National Library Bibliolheque nationale I ^ of Canada du Canada i 7 hoo^-3^£*>^^u. Xc^<^/^f^ i\ \ %\ K\ /UL^ m w. // tu^^x^ l\ \ %\ -. l' ' L ^.. t / ■) H h -< ^ t^ ■<¥ \ ■,v 4 I ■—''"' r I "Ti '•HT'ft'iiii'n 'I'l .^;.-."T I0W^- 'p-'r n J ^y- ,,.^' y m ^■^^ ^^ ■.'^' ...^ ,^'' * *■.,.' I- 1 I* 'p.&ikl- n J .y' m ^ y I M^^m^^^ .:^ p <--. -wf^^ *^''V ^^3qs^3^!^S5a^ ti__ ,> ^?»W?,?JF^(^ t l-l. 1 r - ■ • T .J&SfiL rOVWO, AFLOAT. ;P»" -7? ' ~ .iv Frmti^l^ke*^. ■'-■«.>'' ! -.. .W i '.« 7?f FOUND AFLOAT. n AxND OTHER TALES. IIY Mrs. GEORGE CUPPLES. ? u mtiiS^ite*^. - ■ , 4; r ® V o n 4 : S, R.'BRIGGS, TORONTO WILLARD TRACT DEPOSITORY, , Cor. Yonce and Temperance Streets. /.- S. \"*. .•n K I J 14 16 '■'7 <98 24a Duty of Children to «K(ir Parents, the, , Enigmas, . '. „ ,Answ«!»»to, . . . ^ Emperors who came down from their Thrones, ■U 95 .»«9 176 194 4 ^rfP^« \ *;• !▼ Tndex. . * , '.' N '• Found Afloat By Mrs. George Cupples, Fi)«wood Seller, the, . . '. Grandmamnia's Knitting Lesson, . I am going on Before, . . Idols of the Heart, . " . Little Voices,. . . , . Little Lights, . „ . . Lending to the Lord, , Longing for Rain, Lizzie Willis, and what &\ie learned fioni the Fairy Q r Little Ballad Singer, the, Little Watcher*. Little Gathcier*, ^ Mistletoe, the, . ,. Poetic Narcissus, . Pheasant's Eye, Ragged School Reminiscences— The Founders, The Twin Brothers, Sketches in India— The Hills, . „ Longing for Rain, ,, . Homeward Bound, Stories about Birds— The Hedge Sparrow, ,, ^ The Swallow, )'^f ' The Robin, . _„ The Wren, • ,, The Tomtit, ' ' „ The Blackbird, . Spider's Parlour, -the, . . ' Sketches of Swiss Sc(5nery- The Righi, „ \, The Murren, Snowdrop, the, . . . • Sweet Story of Old, the . . PAGH t, 67. 130. 179, 987, 975 54 > ueeu of Dreamland, t3 78 iSS 24 ■ 3a 56 too 5, 202 14.0 30* «6 ■ 9» 3 10 34 98 '45, «95 46 79 15a 198 358 30a 5» 171 «5« V* Index, X3 . 78 . »SS • • 3a . 56 I XI 5, 202 14.0 30i »i6 A >* ■ 9» 3 10 a4 98 '45, «95 46 79 15a 198 358 30a S» 171 «5« The Plank Bean, Thou God seest Me, Time and Tide Wait for no Man, Twin Brothers, the, . « PACK 57 , ago 58. loa , aio Wee Willie's Sleep, . • • • .• 144 Winter Flowers, . . . . • • - • «59 What mean ye by these Stones? . . 9 t^t Wood Anemone, . ' . ' ^ 1 p JH POE TRY Grandmamma's Knitting Lesson, • • • »3 Little Voices, .... 24 ITie Birthday, . . . ^ 52 Longing for Rain, too Christmas Time is Coming, 1*7 Wee Willie's Sliep, 144 By the Seaside, . 166 A Carol for CJiildren, . Ma The > *erv of O'd. • • • • m V* ^ i . ILLUSTRATIONa Found Afloat, . , . • • • Front hpi^ce. ' PAGE Poetic narcissus and Common Daffo''-- ' . . . . 14 .A Scene in India, . ■ ^ 28 The Hedge Sparrow, . . . 47 My First Home, 58 The Picnic in the Cave, . 64 Alf preparing to Recite, . 66 The Swallow, . . . ^ ; 79 Lord Shaftesbury, . , , 9a The Escape, . . , . : . . 107 Evening Scei^ie at Sea, . , . , > 112 Lizzie Willis, and the Queen of Dream:. iiid, ^ ^ "4 Lizzie Willis in the Wood, > 136 Captain Chunck in Port, . . ♦ • >3< Wee Willie's Sleep, . . . , «44 The Robin, ... > 15a Common Holly, ..... ; 161 TheRighi, .... 173 Captain ChunCk's Cabin, .... 178 The Wren, .... 198 The Little Tortoise, 206 The Mistletoe, .... 317 The Smuggler's Grotto, 336 The Snowdrop, .... "45 The Bernese Alps, »53 The Blue-headed Tomtit, 358 Recognition, . . . . 274 The Blackbird, .... 302 "Wood Anemone, . . . 3»5 f heasant's Eye, • • . . VI mmm ntMP >-^ I > FOUND AFLOAT. BY T^E AUTHOR OF * THE MTTLE CAPTAIN,' * MISS MATTY,' ETC. ETC, •• CHAPTER I. BLACK aftemoon, mate ; we'll be hav- ing doings afore morning, I reckon.' * Ay, ay, ye're right there, young- ster. It's not often that I've seen such heavy clouds, or heard such.^ growl aloft, no, not even roundin' the " IJom ;" and I've seen a deal o' hurricanes, boy — a deal o' squalls and hurricaijies ; but never a stronger sou'- easter as this 'ere is agoing to be.' These words were spoken by two weather- beaten old seamen, as they crouched for shelter under a projecting part of the cliff. Astranger ^ would scarcely have observed any dilOference in thdr faces, * for both looked old and strongly marked by exposure. to the elements ; but nothing would have given old Ned Gaskin greater offence, than to be considered as young as his present companion, Jack Sprott. Ned, on con- sideration of his four years' seniority, lorded it over poor Jack in great style. He was a mere boy, was Jack, in Ned's estimation, fgn- he had only been in the * sarvice ' a paltry period of ten years, while Ned had drawn his pay as an able seaman before he was eighteen. And it Vis sttnwsBssESi =;* ' Found Afloat. the matter was discussed at the little village alehous*. and the pomt pushed very far, wasn? Ked r?ady to shoS his fourteen wounds, bullet shots and sabre cuts' and the KM 'T\ '^^ ^'^^^' fr°- the expSSinf of': ^f gled h^rv"^'"''?' °^ ^""'°^' which'^said wound thecSJ^'^^P^^"^^^^ ^"^ ^^^ P^^«--^ position in But though he was determined to keeo his hard thTs'taCaSd" f'r^' -P-encerseamanlV tetionf for m^r ' '""^^f' °? ^"y °f ^^^ neighbouring stanons for miles round, and though he was verv m-„ff '" ^A ^/'^^.^f* ^^ ^^d the softest hear? im^SnS ^ht fe^wTreit^i^a^nl T K^f'^^ '^^^T^^^t DoSv h.H TfT ^^e'ybody knew what a soft heart luugn extenor. But the world, which, so far as Ned was CM C r"' represented by the litUe villag^of HuTst ^S.h^-^"™°"'"^^ ^^™ ^" ^s notion. Efen thfboys made beheve o step off the side-path, as if afraid to come mo contact witj him ; and thus old Ned was mde h^Z With gnm satisfaction he would say, ' Now I don^beUe/e them 'ere youngsters would lay hold of my jacket no not for a twentjr pun' note,--they Lows me?fhiy do Le^ve ^m small craft alone to find out the beaxTn's of a maT VHiy, Aey can do with Jack Sprott just as they pS* beeTa boW^mT ' k^^^"? '^J^ *^"'t' ^^'^^^ hain't Skin.' ^ ^ ^^""^'"^ ^ ^Sate like this 'ere Ned J^n eTe^V'Tstiof ir^^^^^^ ^or- !,-f P-ph might havelSto%?a:h'l^Sfh!vr Ned. with his glass held under his ann, peer^'ea^^^fy Found Afloat, ^ . j out across the dark expanse of waters,' watching, with an «penenced eye, the Une of the horizon. For a long time they stood silently watching, their pea-jackets buttoned taght up to their throats, and their ' sou'westers ' studc hard and fast upon the back of their heads. At last, as If Jack could bear the roar of the dashing waves and the howling winds no longer— as if the mere sound of human voices were cheering, he said again, *Ay, a black night T and what Im afeard on, mate, a boat could hardly live m such a sea, if so be's a, wreck should happen herd- away.' ^^ * Not live, boy ! ' replied his companion ; ' ye surely don't mean to say the « Mermaid," as taut a craft as ye'll find on any station on this 'ere coast, couldn't brave them waters? ^If some o' them new hands that's been sent down had said them words, I'd hardly beUeve it: but Jack Sprott to say so, why, I can't take it in noways : them old ears mustn't have heard aright' •Awell, shipmate,' persisted Jack, *no doubt ye've weathered many a gale, and you be experienced, I'm not going to deny that 'ere same ; but them eyes can't deceive me; and I say, though the " Mermaid " w a taut trim boat, and surefooted, stiU she'd not be able to cross that bar. So I only hopes we'll see no lights at sea to-night.' Scarcely had they stopped speaking, when the gleam of a rocket shot athwart the sky, and the dull boom of a distant gun was heard, though only experienced ears could distinguish the signal of distress. Ned and Jack hurried up the cliff and were soon at the station, where they found a crowd of men aheady gathered, preparing to launch the lifeboat, for they too had seen the signal. Again and again they heard the boom of the cannon, each time commg closer and closer in the direction of the rocks. Just as Ned reached the group of ea^er, anxious men, a consultation was being held upon theVdvisability of put- ting to sea at all, some giving. it as their opinion, hke • Jack Sprott, that « she'd never Uve,' « that she'd never get over the bar,' and if so, * she'd never get back agaw,' ^w Ifp •* Found Afloat. inf tK^-"^ °^ "1? "'^ **" *^^ sufferers, and only endahger- Gruff, grim old Ned did not waste words however. Glancing critically round to see that everything w^Tn faction S;;:^"? r^"' ^^^^^^ «^S^* of the evidL satis- H S^ • . ^J^ u '' P"'^"*^« ^^ hailed,-he promptly 'hsbodvT ^t ^^^' ??^ ^^^''^^ the'life-bdt roSnd at h^P J.f 1, ^' ^"^"^" ""^^ '^ chicken-hearted sta; at home with the w;omen ; we need men to-night. I'll not TMf'M'^ ^*'« ^^^^ ^^e^ture this. ^You've Ae ToXm S V^" J^°^^' *^' ^ ^^^'^ "^g^^ "«ver blew! nPv.T ^A '?^' f>'^ "^^^ °ot be ashamed ; but it'l never be said that old Ned stayed with his missus and left helpless messmates, ay, and mayhap women, to peri S' took hoTo^f T'T^- ^^"^^^^^ °^ '^' ^^^y speecCNed took hold of the steenng^ oar; while the effect of t was ' were T^Zl "^^^ ^' ""Z^^^^^' ^^o tumbled in aH? wom^i 2^^* '"^ -'P'^^ *^^ *^^ entreaties of the wailing Z?n th Jk 'I ""^'^ attempted to prevent them. But agam the harsh voice of Ned was heard ordering the penSofr^ ^°' ^^'^^^^^ '"^'^y voluntee^ Vde! pendent of the proper boat's crew ; that none but oldsters Teln tf-'^^'' '^^' H been i^ i gale before, and codd AwLll ^^^' T'?.''' 'P^'^ ^^th^ blinding sea spray. S ti^eTf?oW ''^ ^if P^'l^ ^°^'^^^°' ^^ Jack Sprott onwSd S^^L • ^u ""^ ^' ^^y *^°"gb surf and Ld, nM M J?* ^' ?°'y ™^° '°^°g fo^ "fe or death ever do : old Ned's eagle eye piercing the heavy fog, an^ his voice nngmg out clear as a bell, m warning, when the h7aw seas come combing along, breaking aLss 5ie bows, 2 half bmymg the * Mermaid ' and her precious burden^nder ^e i!^^^\^. ^"' '^"/^^^'^ ^^^^^^f ^° like a good WM !!!^ *^ ^^^^' fr°"^ ^""'^ ^be dances along, now poised on the crest of an enormous wave, now do^S into ' endanger- ion of their 5 however, ing was in ident satis- B promptly belt round the crowd, earted stay t. I'll not You've the ever blew, i; but it'll IS, and left to perish.' eech, Ned t of it was d in as it he wailing lem. But lering the ;ers inde- Jt oldsters and could sea spray, ve picked Lck Sprott and sand, dth might ever do ; his voice he heavy bows, or [en under e a good ong, now own into ^ / Found Afloat, % the trough, as if she were a living thing, — as if her crew had brought her there for nothing but sport All the time a keen lookout wal kept for the distressed vessel in the direction of * the Crab ' rock ; for, before starting, they had discovered the fated ship was not far from thb worst part of the coast. After watching as eagerly as they could, the next flash of lightning showed she had already struck, and the white seas were breaking over her every minute. * I'm a-thinking, mates, we can't serve them nohow,' said an old sailor. 'Ay,' said another, ' I fear me, lads, she'll not hold out till we get to her ; and she seemed to be a largish ship.' For a few minutes there was a lull in the wind, the moon burst out from behind the dense clouds, and Ned, seizing the opportunity, adjusted his glass, and strained his eyes m the direction, while all waited breathlessly for the old man's opinion. ^ *Can any of you youngsters see aught like a mast here' away on the starboard ?' said Ned. ' If so be's, she's gone down already in deep water, mates.' It was only too true. Right away from where they were, a mast, with drowning creatures clutching it, was dimly seen, but evidently sinking fast, as the wreck broke up,- almost within hail of the men who were straining every nerve to save them. Three times did the boat get within a few yards of it, but only to be dashed hack 'again by the huge waves that rolled in fury against the rocky coast ; and the men reluctantly had to give up the struggle, though only after the mast had disappeared under the treacherous waters. When all hope of coming up to the wreck was gone, one of the men fancied he saw a white object floating in the water, clear of the scattered wreck, beyond the line of breakers. / * It's a body ; I'm sure of that, mates,' cried Ned ; * an^ if we don't get hold of it quickly JBl be swept away in the back-draft of the water. TherPl^y be hfe in'^lfho kno\vs r And in a moment he had passed a rope round r^ *» • Found Afloat. his waist. 4nd, calling to the man next him to take his place, he prepared to spring overboard: 'Thahkee, my lad,' said Ned huskily; but thfe next moment he was breasting the waves, striking "o^^^^^^ vigorously as any of them could have dine Tt^ras Li? known that Ned was about the best sw^mmerX^d and had been the means of saving lives before vVZr they watched'for a gleam of moo^l^t or a ^^^^^^^^^^ of hghtnmg, to show where he was 'He's do^^rrJ^S one; 'ease the line there/ ' Not a bit of him ^ere he mgly, he s like a cask m the water, is old Ned ' 'There • ^4'atu r' ^^^^'"' ' ""'' ^°' ^^^^ -'' -- ; P«, They rowed as close to the breakers as they dared, and waited breathlessly'for the signal to hauUn S the rope; but it came at last, and with a shont fw SrauL'di: ^^h^r^^' H -"^^s b^^en tl saieiy hauled m The shore was lined with anxious men waiting to see theijoat come in. Some of the ^veTof the crew were on their knees praying for the safe re^ h[.S oVM^° T" '° ^^ *° *^^°^> ^hile here^d S httie children clung rcJmid their mothers' necks and wSt because they saw thdj mothers weeping, thoueh thev dfd ^ not understand why^ey were doing sS aTqS™ foXi thZ^ ^' ^"^ ^°"P'' unwean"edrS?d^ !L.S them,— soothing one, or quietly admonishing Another whose gnef was of the more noisv orTr rEf was Dolly Gaskin, old Ned's wife, a placTd,°fit plimD ^^tL A ?^^, eye tearless; yet she seemed the most Kstct ^"' ^^' *r:^^ '^^^ --^ ^^ b-er^^^^ ; It's aU very well for you to say « whish V Dolly, you that Found Afloat. o take his e youngest )Ier-jointed value than t the next ng but as t was well Jr ' aboard, Eagerly dden flash 'Whj' cried ; there he nd, admir- ' There,' pull, Fads, ey dared, in upon hout that rden was ious men, wives of ife return ind there and wept the^ did " man was Hy trying lonishing T. This 1, plump blanched he most inefit by you that has ne'er a chick or a\child ; Ijut think what's to become o' me and my seven children if my poor man is drowned,' whined a woman who had been screaming and ringing her hands in a perfect agony of grief. * Rachel Adams,' said Dolly, with trembling voice, * my man Ned is as precious to me as your Tom is to you, — he is all I possess now. But, woman, ye must not forget that they've gone out to help to save perishing felloW- creatures, and surely the good Lord will ^protect them. Oh, Rachel, instead of wasting your breath Screaming in that way, pray to Him to protect our men.' But they came at last, tJiose good brave hearts, and fifty pair of hands were ready to drag the Boat up the sand, out of reach of the farthest wave ; and the White bundle, for such it appeared to be at first, tied, on a sort of raft, was carefully carried out, and lanterns brought to bear upon it to discover what it really was. It was a child's cot, carefully enveloped in «a piece of stiff canvas of a light colour, which had at once attracted the eye. When the covering was removed, there lay all they had brought to show as the result of their desperate errand,— ^11 that was left of a gallant ship, evidently of heavy burden. A littlef child, a boy about three or four years of age, lay rubbing his eyes as if he had been asleep, and tiie light of the tor9hes had just wakened him;, for he seemed to be quite comfortable, without scarcely, a spot of water, owing to the careful way the raft hail, been made to float clear of the force of the spray. A profusion of bright curls half covered the face ; and now a pair of deep blue eyes looked up wonderingly at the strange group of faces gathered round, and the lips began to quiver as if afhiid. All round the encircling grotip Siere went a shiver of strong emotion, which weil- nigh .brought tears to the eyes of some at the sight of a waif so imexpect^d iiroto out of the very jaws of tempest, death, and shipwreck. Everybody asked of one another what was to be done with the child ; and some, even of the women also, began 8 Fourul Afloat k f e. meanwhile hkd bent ovefthe r^' ^o^WnWy. DoiT^ ^ curly head gently ; and the child If. ^"^ '"^^^'^^ ^« •^ earnestly into the kind face h^nH" ^^' ^^l'?« ^°"K and • held out his arras, and then D^!!'^K°!;'r^'"'' ^"^^^4 he laid hts head down on her^^ \a^ ^'^^^ ^im out. her round the necrseemed m .v ^u'u' ^"^ ^^^^^cWng protedor. * ^^™^^ ^<^ think he had found a ^^^'r^^'i:}:^'^^^^ We'd better take the nearest VkH- 'said 'on" o'fTe ? k'^'" ''^' '^ '^ the little arm^ had gotXmcelvl . fshermen, just as neck, and the face hSde^Twal frn '''^"^ J°"^ ^^^¥^ snow-white neckercSd" %^ ^ °"^'' *^^ ^^^d« of her Ho^ Snc? V^rtv^ ilS'oat had been earned stood byallthe timra lood 2i/"^"^^^ ^"' ^^^ had but able to take an iitlS fnlhZ^''^^"'!"^' ^ true, he had saved. ' No, kds he'In?. .k'^'??^?^ °^ 'he child he said with a gmffe^le !h?n ^!,!^^"d for a work'us,' of the cKld in hiT^Te'I^s had filS"?' ^ ^^ «^«ht e/es almost to overflowi^T ^r'l,^"^^ his honest grey cpntinued, making a Sous effnS /°" ""^^^ '^ ^«'' he 'I've been a-thinking fhaTthat W. f^^JS ^J^^^^i sleeping-cot belongs Vtl and ?f "^^''k^ " TP^ %oWice carried awav f« ., ./"aemer. The , ^^^int that care^ house^i bu^^n. «K ^.^""^ '"^^ her husband's coffee. \me shf^!.^^^ ^'^^^"^"^ having changed his wet cloS^^s 1. Z ■ .f°'"^ '^»' ^ed Clothes, sat quietly smoking his ■%■ they had at iiy. DoOp 3othed ihe > ^ong and * >, suddenly i him out, clutching d fou,nd a )etter take sent on to n. just as »d DoIIyfs Ms of her a carried Ned had t is true, the child work'us,' the sight test grey It is,' he Wmselfj tiHsuch ir show nobly, . The age on » warm e stilly paring ,Ned itg his JPottnd Aftcat, ^ sp thought, when suddenly \^ looked up and . I've been a-thinking this here child has . _. . been sent to us to cheer us in our old age mstead of the litde Jad we lost lon^ago.' J No doubt, no doubt, Ned,' replied Dolly gravely. He 8 sent, not a doubt of it, just as our own little one !^^ B'^why d'ye sayhe was hst, instead of lent by the Lord? Oh, Ned, wilt ever learn to think as how our boy is only gone to the- good country afore Us, as the parson has said over and over again ?' DoUy was interruptedl)y Ned pointing to the bed ; and tumirig round, there she saw the child perched up against the pillows, watching them with a wondering smile playing rbund his mouth. f / e *I declare if the little un aint a-staring at your grim figure-head, Dolly ! Come, leave preaching to the parson, youU be setting us inta the dolefuls : give us our supper missus. ■ Ay, little chap, what ^oyou say? Shall it be pipe all hands to supper?' said Ned, laughing. The child, as if he perfectiy understood what he was saying, held out his arms, and began to shout out most lustily, *Ganpa, take Ally; me hungy, ganpa !^ * What can the youngster mean ?' cried Ned in astonish- m^t. ' If he aint a-thinking I'm his grandad, Dolly I A«a so I §hall be, my booty: I'm at your sarvice till your own granpar turns up. So come along and we'll have our supper.' -^ ' . After supper had l)een taken, the good couple sat and questioned the chfld as to his previous history; but nothing Ti?® ^^^^ ^ ^^° ^°"* *^*°*' ®**^«P' ^t *"s name was Alf or Alfy, that his mamma and papa were ' away way ova a sea;' and the blue eyes fiUed with tears, and the voice quivered as he said, *But ma wiU tum adain to Ally. The only other thing that could be extracted from him was, that he seemed* to be afraid lest somebody— his nurse it may have been— should come in and take hun away; and m the very middle of his Apparent enjoyment ' he would look round towards the door, and shaking his If '"' %■ ',. * ,. ^rfr-- B.T^ ^^^: fr:-;^j- '£■'.• \i , '• ^^ '\;^''^ '■,,-:■;•,'■ ,'"1 W J, '■,",- \ 'f'./', .5^>' »-3Hwiwtt*waWMw■ \ lO Found Afloat. I t t little fat fist at the imaginary person, he would cry out, *Go way, Mab; Alfy no-go bed,— tay ganpal' To the • astonishment of rough old Ned, little Alf went suddenly off to sleep in the very midijle of the cross-questioning, with his hand stuck confidingly into the breast of that veteran's waistcoat, which drew from him the remark to his wife Dolly -. * Well, if he aint a queer httle chap ! He's not a bit afeard o' me like them other youngsters, lie's a true spirit in him, I see that, missus; and I likes him for it I can't abear a coward.' The next day, Dolly having a great respect for the judgment of the vicar, insisted upon her husband going to consult him about the child ; but Ned thought such a step unnecessary, knowing well that Mr. Dartmor might form an opinion quite different from his own views. * You see, did woman,' Ned had said, *I'm afeard parson -wM maybe think the youngster ought to be given up to the ^rk'us he's got to do with, just because I wants to keep him here. You'll not deny, missus, that parson is apt to be contrary somietimes. If he says, "Ned, my man, I sees clearly that this here child will have to be took to the poor officiers," I'll have to go clean agamst his orders: He's a good man, is the vicar, and for head work he could " take the wind out of the sharpest clipper in Baltimore; but this is a free country, and parson though he be, I'm not agoing to let him come athwart me in this matter.' It turned out as Ned had supposed. Mr. Dartmor did find fault with the child being kept at Hurstcliff, and pooh-poohed the idea that Ned had formed of little Alf being a person of consequence, owing to the careful way he had b^n fastened in the cot The vicar had no doubt he had been the only child aboard of the ill-fated vessel, and that on that account they had been more particular about him. BuP though Ned said nothing further on that subject, seeing Mr. Dartmor was suffering from the e ffects of gout, h e had not convinced him. The -interview ended^iirTaftefln^ Words on l)oth sides, IbF" Ned firmly persisted in refusing to give Alf up. * Why, tiin:. Found Afloat II i cry out, To the suddenly estioning, St of that 'ematk to ip ! He's 5. "He's a js him for :t for the nd going ht such a lor might m views, rd parson up to the s to keep }n is apt »y man, I : took to is orders; he could ' altimore ; e be, I'm latter.' rtmor did cliff, and little Alf reful way ■ had no 2 ill-fated en more nothing suffering im. The sida, l&r *Why, -.ill your reverence,* Ned had said, * aint it just in my bit of a cottage* that the first track of the boy must be looked for, when his fiiends come after him, as in course they must ? The number of his mess can al'ays be found there, sir. But until such times, he goes to no work'us, begging your honour's pardon.' Whereupon, after this speech of Ned's, the vicar solemnly declared that he would take steps to put him in the hands of the proper authorities. -^ Mr. Dartmor, however, cooled down somewhat, along with his attack of the gout, only considering that old Ned had been headstrong ; he made all the inquiries in his power as to who the child could be, writing letters for information to Lloyd's, and to all the other suitable sources. All that he could discover, after a great deal of trouble, wsis that two or three vessels had been wrecked on that coast, two of which were supposed to have come fi-om the West Indies, and the other could never be distinctly traced. The tesult was, thajt it became an understood feet that little Alf must becc^be, for the time at least, a fixture at Cliflf Cottage. , After it was settled that the child was to /remain with them for some considerable period, it becanie a question that somewhat troubled the worthy coi^ple, by what sur- name the child was to be known. Now Dolly Gaskin was almost as decided as Ned was, about the supposed, high position of the little foundling,-^! that an ordinary name would never suit. As for calling Him by their own, it never entered their heads ; for, had they^ not begun to build air castles already about his fiiturp ? stnd such pro- spects as they imagined wer^ in store for him, did not agree with their own obscure family name. It chanced that about this time a small coaster, the *Dove,' put into the little harbour of Hurstcliff, the captain of which was an old and valued friend of Ned Gaskin ; indeed, Ned considered him one of the wonders of the age, for Captain Chunck had been a powder-monkey aboard the * Alhesa* frigate when Ned was a lad there. Chunck had struggled up from that obscure position, till, partly 19 Found AfiocU. mnJi ?7/V^yemess, and partly by the help of some money left to him by some relation, he had beSn able to become the commander and sole proprietor of the little ' coaster. When Ned and his wife had almost ^een driven it^T '-^ "^^"' '^^ "^"^'« '^^"^^^ they were d^ lighted by seeing this great individual coming up the garden path, and, to judge by the loud hurrah from Ned rh„ru ^^^ ^^'" considered a very welcome guest! Chunck was a man of few words, stout, flabby, with short shimpy legs, and a body like a barrel and \^th a head of hair like a mop. When he had beek seated in Ned's easyK^hair -^e only one that could hold him,--Sd when the long pipe that he usually smoked was placed upon a stool beside him, along widi a mug^of K's celebrated home-brewed beer, his opinion wis taken on the subject then under discussion,"^ For a long time 5iTi? T ^"d,«™ok?d in sUence, with the fingers of his nght hand spread over hisface-a sign that he w^ thinking vety deeply. Ned sat opposite to him, shaking his head slowly, while he looked at his friend in'an admiring tay every now and then whispering to Dolly, « His a-think! l^i.T''? ' c T.' \ ^'"^P °' *^°"Sh*^ i« *at 'ere know- ledge-box.' Suddenly Captain Chunck uncovered his face, and allowed his weather eye to glitter full upon his old shipmate, while the other was screwed up so tight as to be alnaost invisible; then he solemnly pronounced the one word 'Jetsam,' and the next he w^ lost sight of under a cloud of tobacco smoke. ^ 'Jetsam, Ned,— whatever can the captain mean?' said Dolly in surpnse. There was a sort of rumbUng noise from behind the smoke, that formed itself into the words Ned thought, of ' flotsam and jetsam.' * Flotsam and jetsam ; that means, d'ye see, aU things whatsomever as is found afloat or hove overboard upon tjie surface of the sea,' said Ned, waving his hand grandly to Dolly. Then with a more admiring look at his friend jtiian ever, he continued ^ «T k now'd iL mJasun i^.L ' " HI ■ ^ tn an ever, ne continued. *l k now'd iL miaiaia ilxx^l Z ir «^^ I s«e'd that old figui«-head bearing down upon tl^ Grandmamma* s Knitting Lesson. »5 'ere cottage, says I to myself, says I, Here's the man that will put us straight in this here head business ; and now I sees it clear as a capstan bar. I know'd that 'ere knowledge-box was choke full o' laming. Till such times as he comes athwart his own lawful parents, in course the younker's name is Alf Jetsam.' GRANDMAMMA'S KNITTING LESSON. From the German of Lowenstein, Slowly, gently, little fingers. Now be careful how you hold : What we learn with pain as children, Gives us pleasure when we're old. Hold the needle not so firmly ; There's a loop— now bring it through : What my Maggie cannot learn, Margaret soon will learn to do 1 Not so swiftly, little fingers ! Put the thread around with care : Cautiously bring put the needle- Now, another stitch is there I Oh ! mamma will be so happy When you lay your garland bright Down upon her birthday table, With these stockings, smooth and white ! Saying, ' Now you know the secret Grandmamma and I have had ! "T^e me in yoiir amis anffliiss Me,^-=^ Oh, mamma, I am so glad V A.M. .i^ifUi. 14 Poetic Narcissus and Common Dajffbdil. POETIC NARCISSUS AND COMMON DAFFODIL. ' Fair daffodil, thou bendest o'er the stream, As thoU would'st there thy mirrored self caress • • Thou art like one lost wholly in a dream ' Ul sUent, hopeless, deep unhappiness.' POETIC NARCISSU'S AND COMMON DAFFODIL. especially in rioXo?1^rd ^ "^^ '"'^' Poetic Narcissus and Common Daffodil / '% •Drooping its beautv o'er the watery clearness, Moving its own sad image into nearness ;' a pale, yellow flower, with a circlet of lemoh-coloured petals, surrounding a deeper yellow cup, in which the busy bee oft hides itself, buzzing in and out, humming and wheeling amongst the tall, sword-like green leaves that spring from the roots; an early flower, 'That comes before the swallow dares, and takes ^ The winds of March with beauty.* It belongs to the narcissus tribe, df which, I believe, we have only two other natives, — the two-flowered narcissus, which bears two flowers in its sheath instead of one, like the daffodil which I have sketched for you; and the poetic narcissus, which you also see in the illustration, and which is a beautiful flower, with six snowy petals, ex- panded star-like round its yellow cup, edged with brilliant scarlet It is planted in almost every garden, not so much for its beauty as its dehcious fragrance, and grows so tall, that often after a shower, when its cup is filled with water, a sudden sweep of wind will snap the stem. • Just as a lily pressed vdth heavy rain, Which fills her cups with showers up to the brinks, The weary stalk no longer can sustain The head, that low beneath the burden sinks.' Now, I am going to tell you a little fable of the daffo- dil, and how it gained its more poetic name of narcissus, which belonged to a beautiful youth, who had a sister as beautiflil as himself, to whom he was devotedly attached.' It is said they were never apart, but shared eveiy joy or sorrow, joined in all sports, resting together on the green- sward, straying through the meadows, or wandering hand in hand by the streamlet side, — ' Like two blossoms on one stem. They thus grew side by side.' .B u t, i^asl this beautiful sister xKed, and pow Nsi^ cissus roamed disconsolate through the woods, breathing j».j.,~ i6 Children's Idols. his lamervtations to every shrub and flower associated woL h "!f "*°'\*?'' '^^^""^ ^^^"^ to the water's brink, sTlent^f i^'^^^^^^T^^ ^T'^ ^"d' bowing his head in silent gnef, would refuse to be comforted. At length so the old tale re ates his anguish became so great that' n • despair he killed himself, and when the n^phs of the -wood sought for his body, it had beei> chaS into the floyer which still bears his name - ^ diMn'?/fl"? ""^^ ^'?^?' ^^"^^^^^ yo" see a daffo- dil in the woods, or pluck it from your garden border remember popr Narcissus and his Lut^J Steirand hoiy they loved one another. * ' CHILDREN'S IDOLS. AN ADDRESS. BY THE REV. H. T. HO WAT, LIVERPOOL.' Y DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,— I have httle doubt but you are startled by the title of this paper. * Children's Idols ! ' I hear you say; * we don't live in India or Calaber; we're not heathens; why, then, speak of idolatry in connection with us? Simply beckuse I read that text in Scnpture: 'Little children, keep your- selves from idols. Amen;' on which I propose to say one or two things which -rf % fvP'?^5f'^ to the dear little readers of ■I ne Cntldrefis Hour. There are many other idols than Brahmah and Jugger- ^t^. A great man caUed Bacon-of whom you boys will learn something when you go to coHege-has written Children's Idols. 17 a profound treatise on * the Idols of the Mind/ or the prejudices that impede us in the acquiring of knowledge. Some parents, too indulgent, make idols of their children; and sometimes God, not so much in anger as in mercy, takes the* children away. I have known person^ who made a grand house their idol ; others, who made their books their idols ; others, who made a lap-dog their idol, and so on. I confess, however, that we have all, more" or less, our idols ; and that although I am about to speak of children's idols, these idols are not the children's only. As the first idol, then, I present Self-will. What an old idol this is ! and what an ugly one ! It was this that cost man innocence and Paradise; and still its worship is very wide-spread. My^oung fiiends, especially, must be on their guard against it I hear mamma say : * John, roy dear,— not away to school ?' But John has a great many excuses and reasons. * Tom Mitchell's not going, and Geotgie Boyd's not going;' and so John thinks he shouldn't go either ! Now, John, you're a little idolater. You're worshipping Self-wilL Take care; for the boy who refuses to go to school, may some day or other re- hise to go to business ; may turn out an indolent good- for-nothing ; be the laughing-stock of his neighbours, and the lamentation of all his friends. A dear little fellow, w^om I know and love, was asked one day by two of his companions to * come oflF and have some fishing.' * I can't go,' he said, ' till I've asked mamma.' And there- upon his two companions made fim of. him;, and one of' them said, * I'm tOo big always to go and ask my mother.' I thought, when I heard of it, he must have, been a very large young gentleman that. He was too big to ask and t» obey his mother ; but he wasn't too big to require his mother's daily care and attention. Take my advice, my young fiiends, and avoid those children who can speak disrespectfully of their parents. One of the grand mis- takes of^e prodigil son^ ofwho mii>re read in Scri pture, was this,— that lie thought he had more sense dian his father. Rather let it be yours to thank God you have ■SV 1 iS Children's Idols. Wor thiffs right-'''''''''"' ""'^ ^°" P"™*^ » ** Another little idol from which I wish vou to ' ke^n • yourselves, ^,Self.lov>. Now therb are some people ?n fte world who. can think of nobody but UiemseU tlem^ SdX Z^"if ''^'U'^^ "^ been m"de for ,,.1 ' i5 • J ■ ,. • *^>' '^"^ been made for nobody A tim^s"h±ri'/''a1h"n'" "''." *~^' -"»"- S fiXVi^ ? sh Ihng and sometimes half-a sove- reign. But aSre is this understanding between th^m Aey withdraw their deposits altemaily If Maste; Robert wants a new jacket, he gets it- hnV if ,^1 fu after, he should discover thlt he rgiatlv^' "'' * f""* tor, Master AljMcander, has received a new cap a rnf^V. ?nV„T"'""« ''"^quires. And in this wly mi JoTit le r ^^^", <^"^,er. 1 was once visiting in a house wh^r^ nn« of the brothers got the present oL box of colfec^^^^^^ and how do you think he acted? He wLt°oTto T; garden the young glutton, and devoured Aewholehm self mthout ever once saying to his brodiers and slJeS" Come and join me.' He was v^^rv ill ««^4. L • '**^'-^"' he deseivedit, as the punlslimenrfS^ hL s lfisre™"L^ world will treat you pretty much^as vou treat it Ti,„ of you who know EdfnbuTgh k^t^e fi^M ci^^ulS road termed the ' Queen's Driv^.' Near one of the Stk rou cr>, Halloo,' aAd the echo answers ^ke too much me. 1 Delieve iri play, and m a good deal of it "T lilr^ Iz^^i^^Z'^lt'"''^ ^^Wng hiTlop, ir exeil' woodTn soldlrf n? "^'"^ P^?"' '^'P^' marshalling his ' ' Hs Noah's^rk ' T T^"""^ ''°^"''^' °^^^^« *^0"tents of . Ills iMoans Ark. I Jike to see a golden-haired rirl .sUn. pmg with her ropes, br trundling her hoorsbamwX days, ever learn a siiigle lesson, or work a^nde sum serf "If^t^'^^l^''^^'"- Away and enfoy%r: ReX El^ !^^th you -every day is not to be a holiday ?/r?^^. ^"J°J ^^^^^^y^' y°" ™"st have earned them bv hard, honest, downright work. And then wSen Savs S away at S; ^t" °S^,f ^^C^ristina, you have Kofi„\,^ ^j -^ coast. What saihng you had and vof a,!' ?^^\s""«mer evenings on the sfnds ! And n^w you are back agam at school. How you must ma^e progress with your music, and try to plav graSfiillv nn5 you have also your French ; and especially these verv nregiilar and most temper-trying verbs^ Don't be JaM of them, look them foil in the face, and say 'I'm detet Hisfnt'^ -^^ ^"^ thenyiu.havf^our^nrf^^^^^ C^^:.^'"^ ^'S ^^^^' '° ^^«^^"^t *^ remember ; ^d f our Geography, at times so puzzling, that you wonder whv JSyhofceye.«ada a nip; aiS yo^S^ti"^ - ChildrtfCs Idols. '3 all the perplexities of Proportion ind Interest ; and your Crochet, with (to me at least) all its mysteries of ' chain ' and Mpng-stitch,'— no matter, feel all this to be duty> and work bravely, cheerfully on. A little fellow was out one day in the field where his father was ploughing. He was getting tired, and at length said, * Father, when do you mean to stpp ?' * Another fur {i.e. furrow), and then,' was the reply. Patiently the boy waited ; but, to his amaze- ment, another furrow was commenced. Again he inquired when his father intended to give over. And again came I the reply, * Another fur, and tlien.* Down he sat till the other furrow was completed, thinking that this was certain to be the last But again to his inquiry, there only came the resp(;^se, 'Another fur, and then.' 'What do you mean, father ?' he at length exclaimed. * You said you would be finished long ago.' *■ I mean, my boy, another for, and then another ; and take that for your motto through- out your whole life.' Yes, my young fiiend Christina, and aU my young fiiends togethor,— * another fur, and then another ;' let this, during your working days and hours, be your single-minded, single-hearted aim. And aboye all, m the midst of all other progress, don't forget that progress, the termination of which is in heaven. * Be stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding' in this. Let every other idol fall, Dagon-like, before the Lord. Let the one only living and true God have the supremacy in your hearts. Let nothing ever successfully interfere with your duty to Him. Serve • Him first. Him last, Him midst, Him without end,' till, called away from earth, His- own voice shall say, * Come up hither,' and yours shall be the better service, of the better land for ever. And now, my dear children, may the God of peace make you perfect in evety good work to do His will ; increase you m grace and wisdom as in years ; and daily * keep ' you, as you vi\\\ try to * keep yourselves,' from ^ ensnaring and delusive ido.s. Amen. ' ..*»• /J ^^aJT* .(">• .■ "^ M Little Voices. •N, LITTLE VOICES. /am but a little Brook,— Yet on me Do the stars as brightly gleam As on broad and mighty strearo • And, singing night and day, I sparkle on my way To the sea. " ^2 am but a little Ray, Sent to earth By the sun so great and bright. Giving food, and heat, and light j Yet stately royal halls And lowly cottage walls Greet my birth. /am but a little Flower, 'As you see; Yet the sunshine and the dew Give me scent and beauty too j And I envy not the rarest, The tallest, nor the fairest Forest tree. /am but a little Lamb, Tiny white ; Yet in the meadows sweet, To ramble and to bleat. Or, to race beneath the treec JWith the summe r -even iag b reezer^ * Is my delight i\t4ti . ,S|. .f.-v^. }'.\jx^- rlUsiiil* * Little Voices, ^ / aaa but a little Bird, Full of glee : Don't you hear me singing, now. As I hop from bough to bough ; Plucking berries here and there, Flying freely everywhere ? Happy me 1 / am but a little Child, It is true ; Yet in my heart I know irhe grace of God will grow. If I love toeing His praise, And to follow in His ways. My life through. Child and Bird — Lamb, Flower, and Ray, And little Brook ! Sing again your simple song- Cheering hearts no longer young j Tell us of the day to come — Youth renewed, and heavenly home — Ifwk look. Look to what 1-+-to wealth and state? Nay ! Ah, nay ! — Envy not the rich and great ; Bless thine own more tranquil fate. Look to Jesus, Friend of all — Creatu>-es large, and creatures small — I^ok, and pray. Agnes Veitch. .\ M^^iif^aM. it,. »., Sketches in India. SKETCHES IN INDIA. THE HILLS. ^RING the hot season in India, it is a ™^ common practice for those who can afford It to escape from the heat ot the plams to one of the many otas the Hills.' I was glad of an opportunity of visiting one of these retreats, and left Bombay with my friends during April, when the heat was bLomW EheTT;'^/^ ^^^"^ some timTaf oK^ . i J ' ^ ^'" s^tion situated within fiXr^ofZ: '"^"^^ '^^"^ ^^^ ^^^ The very commot^CmttlTn^^^ TSl^afr ^^ ^?l ^ when we reached the station at the foot o/tf^'vi, ^"' Indian X^.^^^ ^^^era^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^-^e the side ; you lie down i^? r •' ^^ ^ '^^^'"^ ^^^^ i" denly find^yourself ^ P^'^j'^"' ^'^^ «»d- Diountam. The road was Mod but TL?^ ■ "P ""* edge of fearful precipices -Ci'ff, hi K ^^\ ">»« the false s.ep, it wa^ frigS ' ^otltl^^^^fv^^^ ^ witd-lookipg i™ Aev h^H f ^?'"''^• f'"' *«y '■ere a some of then, carried .orcirrw^'^rngr^L^ India, it is a lose who can om khe heat 3f t|ie many rally spoken IS glad of an •ne of these h my friends IS becoming tne time at ated within 2 city. The "brmed in a train ; but the hill, we ing for the ed convey- carriedi:fn ng door in I, and sud- •rwards till each end, I with you, im to mis- d up the along the id made a have be- • were no ey were a ?rew dark je to see .■:m 9 '|^;'.,|fm ,<^h „ ,?,° ""«■" ''a™ ""shed its not tell you? C tf Sad A»^° K <"^^*r P»»' ' I neS her merciful preservati^;^ ''^.';? ""ankful iefore for when she saw f om wS t JIS" "*"• "^^ ""^"kful now ' preserved by the h"nd of r S \^"T'' '''« ""ad been ^ and alone in tteXkness^f' ,T"''* ??' ^^ defenceless forest oantness, m the midst of the Indian ndes in tfewoodsShere'Sd weWul'llfK'^^ ""^ was awakened earlv \r^ *v.l • ^ ^^^ ■ -^ ^^ beauty. I the bulbul orl^lnl^.S''''^ V^^ '^'^' song of- very deIightfuITrl'fbfu^w^s^^^^^^^^ '^^i^-- fresh, and the clouds were W.i^o^ ^ ^ T^ *=°°^ ^^^ around, and the hot suTL?c.^. t"**? *^ ^lountains Th^^e^ere many interStbrobier^c ^^^ *^" ^°"^°«- woods : and I am surlm, ^ ^^*^*^ ,*° ^^ ^^en in those joyed k Uhl^^^^gZir'oTi''' ^9-^^ ^-« -- Tieaf the monkeys Jf n^ t^;.;? T"^ ''^^ °"« ^^"Id one could- see them s it^nJ rt r "i^^^""' ^^^ sometimes black faces andlrVSa^ ^ "^^" ^^^^ spring up among die tSTs ^^ ' ^^^^ ^^^^ ^ ^"^den their long tails ^daJglfnA^^^ '^^°"i^ '^^ ^°«ds, used to come upon ant hill f A k' ^'^t! Somethnes I Nit up in curious HttLi-i^ as haycocks, and all fad been ambiSs 6 ^^^^^ 'i^' ^^^Y builders ti Edinburgh. It was infSic^ , ^^'^ ^''<'** « monument fr those just bemm Thir -f ^ ^''° ^° <^bserve the plan llthoughtsomeTwidrln ^^^^^^^ '"^ ^^ ^^^ ; anS selves ^thmakin^Kht^^^^^^ "^^^^ *^^™- tAys, one within the other ol nfl^" i""^ ^ '^* °^ ^^^■ buUders that I saw howTJ^r ^'^ *^ cleverest insect ^Xa^ea^uiM l^:^Sr5 ?nse^ ^^.'iV^ ^^^^ ye^ striped coa1nheToraS^^o"bSld^^^^^^ Sketches in India. 3» \ lor cell in my bMropm, and I loved to watch her bringing I in a little bal^of red pUd in her forefeet^ and plastering,^*^ lit all round in the smpothest and neatest manner, till she Ihad made a little house for her future family, of the most Itidy and perfect kindi It was about the size of an ordinary [schoolroom ink^bttrei with a hole in the top, and a neatly [turned over edge, so like the common earthenware vessels I of the natives, that, observing the resemblance, they call : I the insect herself * the female -'potter.' When she has"^ [finished the cell, she brings four" or five green caterpillars I intoi^lp a ,torpid or half dead condition, to serve as food for her children. She next deposits her eggs, and then she makesl a little lid for her vessel and closes it all tightly up. ) When the eggs come out,' the Uttle grubs live upon thj£ifaterpillars, till they are old enough to break up the walls of their house and fly away. There were many other beautiful and curious insects, which would have charmed the eye of a naturalist, in the wobds of this station. There were exquisite beetles, green, gol4,and purple; large blue butteiflies that floated in the air likci little open bookp ; and spiders of the funniest shapes I that ever were seen — some all legs and no body, others ' all body and scarcely any legs ; and I saw one very stout- I looking lady spider who was .carrying a whole family of aboiif a hundred little spiders on her back I Then at nighti as soon as it becamje dark, the air was full of lovely j glitte^ng fireflies, sparkling all over the bushes ; while, on I the gri^und below, the glow-worm lighted up his beautiful steady little lamp of pale greenish lustre. Ther^are so many ihsect/plagues in India, that it is well to be able to find am^ement in observing the insect beauties ; and indeed it\ is well, wherever we are, to learn the habit of I using ounces. Many curious sights are lost, not so much I for want or opportunities as for want of observation ; and it is when we use\)ur eyes that we discover, how wonder- ful a n d h ow b^autifijl God V works ar% and how true it is^ that • in wisdoto He has made them all.' So, my dear little readers, let me advise you to ieam to observe while % \_ 39 Little Lights. > - you are young, and then y6u will never rom^ ;„ f your country walks with weary «upidfacer^rin/"?; was so tiresome ! there wasWhing to be sSn^ T^» wVSvi-^ouIr"' ^■™^-«"<''olje^tsrrlh ^^g LITTLE LIGHTS. ^^S NNIE and Carrie Seton returned home ^ from their Christmas visit, a visit during which, fer the first time in their young hves, they had been in served'' ""t"'' ^°^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^"^ served True, one of them had learned from her Cousin Katie's gentle words and gentler deeds, to know and love the Saviour who had so loved he^ Very deso ate was she as she parted^^th lor help and encouragement in her eam^Sf desire to be henceforth the servant of cS^ She said something of her feelinacT^^ • "^*' only laughed at her. * So you are SA^. k'' '''• '^' ^'^° She was comforted Frn,; ^a ^l' ^""^ ^'^^ her, and she asked ?hat:he S b'/ ffi?t°^ ''' ^T ^i' ^^^^» child. ^ '^^ ^^^ ^o^ng and obedient Only thin^, Aunt Gi'ace, those children nev.r!?^;. Oti?v th^ T^f W - - " g^gfttea ta^me home^-- Only thin^, Aunt Gi'ace, those children neveSired •;^r ■*^ Little Lights. %\ our liew dresses, nor wished their own were as grand • and thej^ like making clothes for poor people. One day they wanted me to help them to make a frock for a little child m India,— an ugly little black girl that they had never seen! \ just repeated what I heard you say so often that "chanty begins at home," when Miss Morton quite ^vely asked me, " What charity I was doing at home ?" lertainly I was a little ashamed, I must confess, for I ould not think of anything except giving money in church t chanty sermons ; and as we don't give our own money that can't be our charity. Then I was going to say we '[ave our old clothes to nurse for herj:hildien j but as we lon't want them any longer, and we get new instead, I 'as sure she would not count that charity. Then you 'ould suppose I had said something quite wicked, she jpoke so senously— quite preached a sennon about God's ove to us, and all that sort of thing, just as if that had mything to do with our charity.* ^ Aunt Grace laughed heartily at Qame's cleverness, and luite agreed that it was very absurd indeed to care for n ugly httle black child, thousands of mil^away. • At all events,' said Annie, who could not before get in *word of remonstrance, *they are the best, and the tmdest, and the happiest children I ever met. We have L much ^nder house, and finer clothes, and more play- :hmgs; but I am sure. Came, tiiey are ten thousand :imes happier than we ^e. I never heard them quan-el • hey were always ready to give up to their brothers or to IS. Then as to theu: being stupid : though they never lad a governess or masters like us, they know a great leal more than we do.' ;They certainly know the Bible, and other stupid ings, better than we do,' said Carrie. ' Yes, Carrie ; and I have found out that it is just be- Luse they know and love the Bible, and the Saviour the iWeJ^ches ot^iat Ihey are-so good and «o h^py^. ao you are going to be as stupid yourself 1— I declare »* is too bad. \1 c ■ , *■ -' 34 Little Lights, Annie's eyes filled with tears ; an angry reply rose to her hps, but was not spoken. s ^ P / ^9^6 to ^Mrs. Selwyn was greatly annoyed, and said, 'Annie. I do hope you ^e not so silly as to want to be more ie- afdTnnH^''T°*^^nP'°P^1;~-'^"^"^ yourself up to be wisei tr^i?. J^ ' ^ '^^^ "°' ^"°^ ^^ ^^sides, you . haVe con- nlili? ^°"' s^s'e'- ^^0^ rudely. 1 am very much dis- pleased; you may go to your room, and remain there for the rest of the evening.' trvfn^L^T'^' r' '^- ^^^^ '^P'^^^^ ^^ P""^shed for trying to do what was right? Could it be that her morn- W?^w^!u^^^ "°^ ^'^^^ ^'^^^^^ ^^ Jes"s really with her ? Vi^th a very heavy heart she sat down in her soli- tude, and- compared her situation that evening, with the momm ^^' ''°"''°' ^^^ ^^^ parted with that fnl^f i?f-.?,°°?^t^P u^'^ forgotten, or was He unmind- lul of the little lamb who longed to follow Him ? trnfl°' wl ^^A ^^u, ^^^"^ ^^'' *^^ ^^^^"'■^ge to speak the truth He had enabled her to keep down the angry feel- mgs that had tried hard to rise and gain utteranqe He had now led her to that quiet room that she might be ^^ Tw ^'"'' '^^i '^^ ""'g^' P^^r o"t her heartlffore dince ^^^^'^ ^°^^^ of comfort and ofj h.^^f '? .^? heart turned to Katie. She longed to tell her all ; but the earthly friend was far away, and could not hear:>o she turned then to Him who is never absent, ^lll 7^^ '^^^? *° ^^f.' ^^^ *^^^ Him all as simply and as fully a^ she would have done to her cousin, had sh^ been beside her. He gathered the lamb with His t^Ac . T^^^ ^^V^ H'' ^°^°"^' He brought His own IZa\^}^^ remembrance ; and when she laid her tired head that night on her Vlow, she was no longer desolate, £7h- ^^? ^°"^^ t ^""'^^' ^^^' '"'■ghty, and loving, who had died to save her, who had promised, * I wiU never Jeave theenor ier^a kc the ^ / v, w «cver Days and weeks passed on ; Mrs. Sehvyn's displeasure LUtU Lighis. 35 2;ry reply rose to iid not wear off, but rather increased, as she observed ^he influence true religion was exercising oit the little rl's character and ways. She was better pleased with ]!arrie's ill-temper and selfishness, than with Annie's jentleness ; for her heart, being unrenewed by the Holy Spirit of God, was at enmity against Him who was lead- ing Annie in the paths of nghteousness. Try as she rould, she could neither please aunt nor sisters ; while my outbreak of the old impatient temper was met by le mocking words, 'Very fine, indeed, for a saint!' inie did struggle hard to overcome the temper that id been uni||iedced for years; bitterly did she grieve, md earnestly seek forgiveness, when it proved too strong for her. All this was very hard to bear. How often the ^eary child cried herself to sleep, only One knew ! but it was He who has said, ' They who sow in tears shall reap in joy.* A letter from Katie, which now and then reached her, ras one of her greatest pleasures. She had made no com- Iplaints of the unkindness she met with ; yet her cousin Icould not but Understand something of what she was Ibearing. About this time a letter came, in which Katie [reminded hei- that all God's children were lights; that jGod wanted them to shine brightly for Him j that H€^ placed her in her home &ere to shine for Him ; Ithat while she kept close to Jesus,— the * Light of the IWorld,' *the True Light,'— she would shme, and that, Ishining in His light, she might Ijave me great happiness' lof leading her aunt knd Carrie to Jesus, that they might [love Him and become His lights too. That little word about the light was a great help. * I Imust try and shine brightly for Jesus* sake,' she thought. lAs He is light, the more like to Him I grow, the brighter |I shall be ; and from that hour, her constant aim and desire to be like Jesus. With no teacher but her God and His bnnlc, with no, sncouragement but the thought that she was pleasing 'Tim, she went on her quiet waj^ the lit^ spark of light ?< LittU Lights, was m heaven W^r 1^0. gioniy ner I'ather who can have ildetedS,;'!*^ ""^ '■'"'^ ^« «nl'Sl?™if4T*^r' *'^ often-repeated remark, is a S S> °°° ' J'"" '"'<"'. Jessie. Miss Annie wqidlS^^G^:? '""y '» "« » "«PM, Jessiejand so shoufdlfte to be^S^ ^^?, ''"^ "^ >">» <« one, and I Au7t ^^t^Z Siltfti^Si ;*? ' * "^'k""?- wlien they are veiredJrith m, r S? ,* ?""• •"" ''^' being m Je hoIy?^LT*fie^^VtheS GW^i'Vl Lord JesuT Hels Tv^?ni ^ f i^^^* ''^ P^^« *« as to eive Hi« Kf- ?o!^ verjr good, and loved me so much Biunii for IIiuL Jessie, « He was your-triend, j^T^dd Little Lights. 37 ;ver want any good thing, He ti so very good, and wise, id loving.' ' Oh, Miss ! but do you think He would be my friend ? have never cared for Him, nor thought of Him. I Iways thought it must be so stupid to be religious j but |ow, when I see how it makes you pa:tient when the [istress and Miss Carrie are so hard on you, I am sure must be a good and a happy thing.' 'Jessie, Jesus must love you, for He died for sinners ; (ind you are a sinner, so He died for you. I know very ittle myself; but I shall like very much to tell you all I lo know, and let us both ask Him to give us His Holy Spirit, who is the great Teacher.' Morning and evening the little girl read for her maid, id taught her the precious truths of the gospel ; but lore pei%uasive than her words were the gentle deeds in irhich her light shone. Jessie's progress was very slowpbut she was seekijig iGod early, and she found Him. When Annie was puzzled [by her difficulties, which was not seldom the case, &he ItoOfc them to her Father in heaven, and sought their solution m His word, and there sooner or later she found it Strange and 4ifficult did^she find many parts of that word ; but she ever kept her hand on the clue to its understanding. The utter sinfulness of man, his inability to save himself, and the wonderful plan that God had made for his salvation in Christ Jesus. Iliis guided her through much that was obscure, so that she did not stumble nor go astray in the dark places. Soon there were two lights, instead of one, shining in that dark house. God had a witness for Himself in the servants' hall as well as in the drawing-room ; and all saw that they had been with JesvtS^ Mrs. Selw3m could not much longer resist the little girl's influence for good. Gradually, though slowly, her displeasure wore away. The tree wluch bore such fruits ice, indostiy; pntlenessr^na^obediehce^ obliged to acknowledge must be good. She watched her' 38 The Childhood of Wolfgang Mozart. J-ittle did Annie know that fViA i,'/vK«. time was she ready to give^^ but On^l^ ' 1?°?^ ^ not yet had taken her by the hand ^d lilT '^-^ ^°.^^ whither she thouffht not Thfrf ' ^^ ^^^^"g ^er yet; inc^a^lnrktreL t?^:^^^^^ observable TamVc ,'ii f^ "^*"^*= *^*f tne only difference saw how Ann^r^ "Sf^t ^It^"^' " t* wannest part of her auSarTVere m rinl?'' "'I** he^^,eap for Joy, an/ th^e h^^^lhr ^otS K. THE CHILDHOOD OF WOLFGANG MOZART. AN ILLUSTRATION OP THE PiRST COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE. BY ZAIDA, AUTHOR OF 'HELEN DUNDAS OR THR p*o^«»». 'SH^OWS AND SUNSHINE.' l^^ S^^^M^^""^:!'^'^ |APA,' said Charhe and Alice Montagu, one ' evening, « when we were saying the ^ com mandment to you last Sunday! you pro mised to tell us a story about two l^ ' c hildren who XJlr^^. "°"' ^^ ^ ttle £lP^H^ust:w?^„s,rrsf„r.^ The Childhood of Wolf gang Mozart. 39 « Most willingly,' Replied their father ; and seating hui.- self in his arm-ch^r, with the children beside him, he told them the following true story :— ' Once on a time, in the wonderful old town of Prague, close by the river side, was a small house, in an upper room of which, on the evening about which I am going ! to tell you, was the organist of Prague, with his wife and two children,— a girl who looked about eleven years old, and an intelligent but delicate boy, of six. Judging by^ the appearance of-the room, they m^st have been very poor • for, although the weather was bitterly cold, ther,e was not any fire, and the whole furniture of the room consisted of six straw chairs, a table, and an old piano. And although the children's clothes were tolerably good, yet the father's coat was almost thread-bare, and the mother's dress was so patched and darned and mended, that it would not be easy to tell of what material it had been originally made.' ,, i j « I wonder what they were doing, papa ? asked * The father was fbading a large old Bible,' replied Mr. Montagu, 'the mother was working busily, and the httle girt was knitting, while the boy, who had been running about for some time, hoping that som#K)ne would-talk to him, at last, with a half-ofren4ed air, climbe(f up on a stool, and sat down to the piano. He first played over the scales with wonderful correctness, and then, as if a sudden thought struck him, he went from scales to chords, from chords to one of Dussek's sonatas; and then abandoning himself to his rather capricious imagi- nation, his tiny fingers flew over the keys, striking eveiy note with such force, that, the very windows vibrated, while, at the same time, his touch was so exquisitely expressive, that his father laid down his book, and his mother he r work, to listen to him. „r-ir„.> « — <^ M^gmg here and kiss me,— come. Master Wolfgang, said the old organist, with all the delight of a father, added to that of a musician ; « with God's help you will f !1 '" Father," intinupted thV/Sll i ^ ™ "°' "<* '" the praises which yet he lhh,if ^^' *"'~"»»d by Miswered his mother ' "^^ *e is hungiy," ; ''And you yourself, mother?" ' " Wmy^kte 'h^'T-: ^"^ '"■^'ered.' ' " Your fether P^no*.'' t*^ •*" '='"'<' '"^■ously. said unable to reepSrckt'ir '"^ «*"'" »"« her ar^s m^Xf^ecT st'^r.'^''' »■> you darhng mother." ^ ' and 7 am not hungiy either ^^^ Wolfgang looked at them eornesUy, but did not' " wayomething better^ ^ *' °'"=« i ^ <>% wish fon ,ha7yr'4krhal?J ' '^' '^^ ''' ^' o-'X on condi- c«.ting"hfeSj!;St""«^? 't*"'" «^<1 Wolfgang, I he added, stamping h^^eet Jfh . " "°''' '**"• "^^e iv' no eat it, as sV a^ my 'n^"! ^f ^,j. " for if you do will not touch my share" " Wolfgang Mozart, I . which'hJ^Sfld^^^.^^.Poor oWs eyes, on the bread Wjsh^he said tf his ^ -.Wi°«*eehildreL ^•hrtaBTThou toade ns so po^ graciom Gbdr The Childhood of Wolfgang Mozart, 41 * « Are you then very poor ?" asked Wolfgang, lovingly. « " I am indeed," replied his father. ^' But though for twenty, years I have never spent a franc for my amuse- ment, yet, thank God, I have never gone into debt, and that is a great mercy. I work hard now to support you and Frederica, and I hope that before many years you will be able to support yourselves." *"Yes, and support you and mother too," said the little girl. * " In fact," said Wolfgang, with an air of determma- tion, which ^gMgtlisted strangely with his almost baby face, and sJ[w^tle voice, — " in fact, papa, I think you have workdHP^ long enough for us, an4 that it is quite time for us to work for you." « " But you are too young," said his father, tenderly — " too young and too small." * "Too small ! " answered Wolfgang, indignantly. "Too small ! why, I am very nearly as large as my piano !" • " My poor dear child," said his mother, as she passed her thin, worn fingers through the golden curls of her boy, " what could you do ?^' * « My father, who understands music, says that I play right well. I could give lessons on the piano." * His father and mother could not help smiling in the midst of their tears. * "And to whom would you give lessons?" asked the former. "Where could you get pupils younger than yourself?" * " / could give lessons to older people," said Frederica, thoughtfully; "and just listen to me for a moment When we were taking a walk the other day near the castle, the lady of the castle saw us, and calling me, she asked if we were not the children of Mozart, the organist of the chapel? I said we were. Then pointing to Wolfgang, she asked if that was the little boy who played so beau- tifiiUy on the piano. 'Yes, madam, at y our service,* Wolfgang answered. And then the lady a^ed us to walk up to the castle with her, and asked him to play on .p .: : Tfie Childhood of Wolfgang Mozart. f» liave it to v^,.,^ '"''"' y°" ■"»" *»'. mother, ' " Y^t^2^ the moment we came home> ' Have Jo^'t^df a^?",'/"" *<"<^«'^ *« «-»y »>- Why longed - ^° ^°"' ^"^ *^^ ^°" ^" not be poor aSJ ItllffI the mo as to „,, f ' tife Frederica," answered Wolfgani? • "but se'tou.fSli"^,o';:'S;.r«» I certainly win * " And so will I too," said Frederica • « f i.« ;« r God^^"^ ^^y "°V'Teplied Mozart, "if it ^,e the wiU of '" Because I am afraid— " *" Afraid, mother 1" said Wolfgans- "/am n^f oa. -a d^rjs^eS''?o:^i£»T-^' The Childhood of Wolfgang Mozart, 43 /k « " And when Wolfgang is tired I will take his place, ' said Frederica. " Dearest mother, I entreat of you not to object to our plan and I will ask God every night and . morning to allow us to help you and papa." ' « Oh yes, mother," said \irolfgang, " I will be such a good child, and get such quantities of money. You know you often told us that God loves and blesses children who honour their father and mother, and He will bless us. But now I must eat my supper, I am so hungry. And papa, will you tell me the story about St. Tohnthat I loveSomuch?" *«* Willingly, my child," replied his father. And so, when Wolfgang had finished his supper, he took him on his knee, and began the story. But in a few minutes -his head was leaning on his father's shoulder, and^he was . inct asleeD. '"Just see how easily he is tite^," said his mother, reproachfully ; " and yet you would take him about the country to e?Lm a livelihood!" . . ' " God is good, my wife," replied Mozart " |Ie is ever ready to give strength to the weak, courage to the timidj and help to all those who put their trust in Him. To- morrow morning I will set off with the children. God will > watch over us, so we need not fear any thing. So pack up our clothes to-night, for by sunrise I hope we shall be faf on our way." ,, , * "God's will be done," said the good womap, as she prepared to obey her husband's wisjies. * And now the scene changes,' said Mr. Montagu, ' and we riiust take a peep into the palace at Vienna, where the Empress MarUi Theresa, wifd of the Emperor Frandis the First, was re'ceiving the guests she had>nvited to a grand concert given by her at the. palace. » * All the great people of the city were there. The room was brilliantly lighted, and the ladies' dresses were blazing wit h ^T"^fl nds, laid over th*^ most beautiful embroidery, while the officers' uniforms vied ifdth them in splendour, Suddenly the door was opened, and, to the utter amaa*- t. 44 Th^hildhood of IVol/gdng Mozart. iTffu ^l^Ji^ «f"ests/a rather pLrly drfessed man and two little children entered. Th^ man Wed somewW K"th?1 '"f r^'' '"* AchUdreHd not se^^^^^ ^.«3 * ^T^ disconcerted It the sight of so much grandeur, and so many finely-dTessed pl)ple, who were whom T ? ^^ °^^°''* Of Praiue and his childrenf of ^rrlft:c\^^iSes"^"^^''f *^ ELresstoihe heard the children play W night 2t the FrtXS^bas sador's where I had the honour of \being inwSd The imlegirhs wbnderful; but the little bL is more J^^^^ ^ • « Make them begin," said the EmLss. Acco\dinrfv " the master of the ceremonies asked ^ozart to dX hX children to perform. He himself led ihem to thfaano before which he seated them. Very pretW they bothTok' :-Fredenta dressed in a simple whiteVfrock, WolXg in a little lilac tunic. \ > ""*'6^ng ' Frederica played first. Her executi^ was so cli and so brilliant, that every one was charmed with the oaJ dehcate-looking litde girl; and when she>ad finishe she was greeted with the warmest applause.\ \ Oh ! that is nothing in companson to W brother "\ she said humbly; and then watched with almost mXriv ^•^erest that he should be comfortably seated It the piano and"Be raised high enough to have his han^s perfecdy J7^^1 *! ^^"^«^"ow smiled graciously to the\companv and without an effort, or dreaming of L admLtionTe would excite, he began. Sometimes his fingerA sefemed actually to fly over the keys, so lightly did he touVS then he would change, and linger on every S Sg h!r..!" !.?i!f°"J^ ^'^^^ ^"^ tender, so harm ^ninnf ^ tears started^^he eyes ofaTT who hea^dhSrKlE^ look was fixed on his httle fingers,-so nimble, so flLn^ iyu Childhood of Wolfgang Mozart. 45 so expressive ! And the Emperor and Empress, in com- pany- with their guests, were fairly enchanted, as well as astonished. ^.. r t. „*v. * When Wolfgang stopped, weary aim out of Dreath, the Empress made a sign that he should come and kiss her. He rose to ob^ey; but, stmined and bewildered as he was, between th^ praises lavished on him, and the dazzling light of the room, as well as tired of having re- mained so long in the same position, the very first step . that he took on the highly polished marble floor, he shpped and felL ^ , . • i • ji • * A young lady quickly ran to assist him, saying kindly, " I hope you are not ill, my little friend ?" * As if dazzled by the beauty of the lady, Wolfgang re- mained a moment without speaking, and then putting his litde arms round her neck, he said, "I think I would like to marry you." *, , , , .. « A merry peal of laughter resounded through the room, but did not at all trouble the little child, who added, "My name is Wolfgang Mozart,— what is yours?" ^ *" Mine is Marie Antoinette," replied the young lady. * Oh, papa !' interrupted Alice Montagu, * was that the poor Marie Antoinette wh\) was afterwards beheaded? * The very same,' replied her father. * Poor thing ! her fate would have been a happier one had she been ' Mozart's wife, instead of Queen of France. She was beheaded on the very day that Mozart was publicly crowned at Vienna. But we must return to him, aS he was seated on the Empress' knee, while she gave him plenty of cakes and bonbons. ,.,.,, u * « I am afraid you must be very tu-ed, my chUd, she said kindly. ,. , ',^ , ' «* No, indeed, madam," he replied. " I^am so happy when I please papa, that I never feel tired." ^ ' "And I suppose you love your father very much then? Ih yes, m^agv l d o ; h ells J S Q g$Qd a n d k ind ^ and^ never scolds me." , * " I suppose you are a very good child ? \ \ 4* ■ The ChOdhmd of Wolfing Mozart. il.?«^ ''* Sood ; for I am sure to do neht if X dn f?."^ .^h*' my fether wishes." ^^ "" much on ihVpk^o!" """'' -">=""'« 'i'e you to play so to 'help m/ftS^*" '■""!'= "'y^'='«" '"-J *« ^Wld, « but time s°„zTrKr pS? "" •""^'"^ ^- "» -- then iny father and mother will be haDDv Oh \1 '^ ''^'d':Sitr*";i'"=? ^^^ «>«"- -wne?,- "''"' . « ;tJ , ■"°' y°" ''« happy also ?" be hap^^'toi.^ ''^'"^ " ^«° *«y «e happy I shaU they tS'^riferSl' *v^S°'» W ^'Pe^^d, but not untU ev«f^brfore. "'"■^"•'"'"^ money than tliey had fpth^'! '»"<""°« day they and their proud and hanov rrance, Italy, England, and Germany. 'The children S fethe' toifc ^J ?„ 'r-' *"•? """"y * "^e did children "^ '*" >«"»« given him two such uSpr.l^fe:'"!^^ ^S h'oS '^ copy It as an obedient and loving-hearted chili™ ^ J stories about Birds. 47 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. THE HEDGE-SPARROW. >V LLyoungfolks love birds; and'Ple^e to ^ tell me a story about them, s an on repeated request. Now, this is J^ what we propose to do. You wUl find no hwd words in these papers, and very little sdentific information, ^ but just'a simple account of some of the well-known ' winged choristers of the Sovl' as some poets call them. ,.N^,doub ^«e are children who care so little about - Hrds as to rob them of their young or carry ■off * r^rSty eggs, for their -msh -use- "'xTe mtle bird I'am now going to tell yon about, is well \''-l 48 Sfories about Birds. f »* "^o^ Z.tJ^'^^T'^!-'^^ however. u» the eaves of oSCr»„'?''* 7"? ^y hundreds! as you walk al"„g fte ICteTJ*"' ^^c\.yc«, starU, sparrow, with ite iMron„!f^i ' ?*■ P'*"y '''"e hedgt curious :iittle bkckwf "^°''""?* ""^^ ""i chin, aSd rather thirik ft i^ksP)? °° ^^"^ '*^' ^^ il* ""i keeps aloof from1^:„'^°,™ir ,f h~IS""»' '™^»^' A the opening leaves orieTefnh.H'^'' "^ °*'' ^""'"g^ the midst of a thick inopy^fTvy'k^^ "" """"^^ » ^le^STutlSVSsf" "i^" *■' ^^ -A it is in the suburbs"? a?a?«^^K*!I''*? • ""^ ^hbofgli in the ndighbourhool! ^f intri"'"'/"'", *'~> ''"'' ' one has only to AcL- Vk« .^ ^Z*?. ca^'y summer, melodious singing, 1° fee1^t,X;, *!"* ''?'?" '" *« M from cities, to »L reS''dl« ™»"^"*= ^j*^ «^t^S^oJ1^"cSS^g|S turtle children, should be very grateful to their parents ISrairWttoublerthcy take for *^«"^ "^t^tl ^-4^.^ Gradually the UtUe ones became covered with feathers, ifc,^ -.-1 50 r- Stories about Birds. just like those of their nar^^ntc • .^«j j I • spring flowers and earirsummef hi """^ ^^?' T^^" A appeared, the little girl went H! ''''™' ^^ ^" ^' J favourites ; but^^S she Sv m^^^^ "^'^ P""P ^* ^^J first one, ien another of th^ H^f ^k- ^® °''*' °"^ sprang child could recover from h. ^^"^^*'"^ds, and before th birdies weS out ofJirfTt Lktl'."r'' ^"^ ^^^tonishmen sorrowful and sometunes feel a sharp pricl up, find her little favouritefNS They had no idea of people sl4,,^-„ ^ , , No more, I am sure, had our little Fnends the hedge-spaj rows in the town garden. Their son^of praise was early sung ; so should ours be also^ j^all directions; and Kwaking, she would l-elids, and starting lUs to arouse her ! ?after the sun was up. • Holy, holy, holy, l^rd God Almighty, ' Early in the morning our songs shall nse to 1 nee. Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty, God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity.' M. H. r THg SPIDER'S PARLOUR. IHERE is a little spider in Australis^^mighl with great propriety ask the littl^|p> walk into his parlour ; for he has a very iKat UtUe parlour, with a real door, that wdl open and 5iut on a hinge. I think there is no other animal besides man that can mafc«^ hin^. It seems wonderfiA that God has given this knowledge to a little insect which we commonly look down upon as among the most insignificant There are none of His works that we can justly despise. * All Thy works shall praise Thee, A°kentleman discovered one of these little underground spider-houses, and made the acquaintance of the owner, and came oft^n to see him, so as to become acquainted with hrs habits: He brought hinriiwecte for hj»^food„ every day, and made a certain tap ion the door, which '^ ■f.-^. 5* ' The Birthday, the spider soon learned to understand Then he would thTudTf r ' °P?" "^^ '^^' "^-^ wi muTHke rf r , ^ ^°^» ^»d come out to get his breatfncf a^d'hu'tl'^'Tl-^ '^ "^^^^^ ^-^ -^- h^'hout and shut down the hd very carefully. The inside was made of web and earth, and was as siiooth as satin He l^ves his httle door ajar at times; and when some siUy peepmg msect comes peering around it for curiosity, ^ * Up jumps the cunning spider, And fiercely holds him fast.' Sh ^?.^« i^'^i *^^^ ^^ "^^^ ^"^ ^°^' * *^s winding stair,' and alas ! he never comes out again.' But we must not tn'^wPT 'P!??^-- ^' '' *^^^y God halgiVen Wm to get his foo^ ; and it is no worse in him, than fof us to e^ the flesh of the gentle lambs and the pr4tty birds Thev do not wish to be killed any more than the flies do. Your de^ father is a far more dreadful creature to them than spiders are to flies. It is a great comfort to think S^t when the one sharp pain of death is over, all these Stie creatirres have no more remembrance of'their troubles They have no soul, as you have, that must live-on for ever Yet God takes care of each little life. Are you afrlfd then, that He will ever forget you l-Pre^yllZ ' # THE BIRTHDAY. Choicest blessings on thee wait. Here, and in a happier state ! May-flowers spring beneath thy feet, May-birds chant a welcome sweet To thy natal day I Cloi|dless heavens smile above thge ; Gentle hearts thact fondly love thee, * SiAple o fferings pay | -v\, o The Birthday. Needs no verse of mine to tell, There are hearts that love thee well : Needs no simple gift to show, How those hearts with pleasure glow On this happy m^, When, to be a help and blessing, Such endearing gifts possessing, * Mother sweet' was bom. 53 Every year increase thy love For thy one best Friend above ! As each fleeting hour departs, Closer round thy * heart of hearts' g. Heavenly hopes entwine ! Many a day like this returning, See Faith's flame more brightly burning On thy pure heart's shrine ! And may many a day like this Shine upon our wedded bliss : As we near the bright'ning goal. Cling we closer soul to soul. In those hallowed ties. Which nor life nor death can sever, Destined to endure for ever. When from dust we rise ! F. W. H ^ .•■ 54 The Firewood Seller, ^ HE FIREWOOD SELLER. I Kings xix. 4. THOUGHT of Elijah in the wilderness the other night. I saw the great prophet again : for. human nature is the same in a great prophet as in a little hungry boy. h^or^ w^c 1 '^:. "^?® o'clock on Saturday evening I ^tfi^f^ ^^''^i sobs and crying outside. I know the kmd of thmg that means some one fairly beaten. Not an^ riot bitter,-smashed ! I opened the front door, and found a little boy, ten years old, sitting on the steps crying. I asked him what was the matter. I see the thm, white, hungry, dirty little face. He would have slunk away if he could. He plainly thought his case beyond all mending. But I brought him in, and set him m a chair m the lobby ; and he told his story. _ He had a l^ge bundle of sticks in a ragged skck— firewood At three o'clock that afternoon he had come put to sell them. His m^her was a popr washerwoman, m the most wretched part ofthe town. His father was kil ed a fortnight ago by falling from a scaffbld. He had walked a long way through the streets-about three miles. He had tried all the afternoon to sell his sticks, but had sold only a halfpennyworth. He was lame, poor little man, from a sore leg, but managed to cany his heavy h^H^ W ^\ n^'> S°i"g down some poor area stair in the dark, he fell down a whole flight of steps, and hurt his sore leg so that he could not walk, and also got a ereat cut on h^s forehead He had got just the halfpenny for his poor mother. He had been going about with his burden for six hours, with nothing to eat. But he turned his face homewards, carrying his sticks, and struggled on about a quarter of a mile, and then he broke \do^. He ^ould go no farther. In t h e^d ar k r o Jd night h e sat do w n . \ The Firewood Seller. 55 demess the phet again ; in a great evening I J. I know rly beaten. 1 the front ting on the ter. I see vould have it his case nd set him :ed skck — had come lerwoman, father was He had iree miles, s, but had poor little his heavy ;a stair in d hurt his ot a great penny for with his he turned iggled on wn. He nnd cried It was not the crying of one who hoped to !?^act attention,-it was the crying of flat despair. ^ %he SS I did (which did not tak^ a moment) was .o^fSoJ^SitmydL^^^^^ vS it is a great thing to keep up physical nature. Aix^ Xp liltle mSi had hid no" food since three o'clock tUl come a l^f^ ^*° ^^^^ ^^^Id let him leave his sticks fppearXandbeing wrapped up were place4mAe»d^ appeal v., bread and buttw. How tne S ^Ae chM A Ais time revived 1 He Aought te?o»utoS^me Mcely. . And h*ing 'erj.''",?? ^^^^ fhe FaSia of the fatherless to care for him,* I beheld *m «mp"way In the i^-From 'Autumn Hohdays of a Country Parson' ^ 'WH, A % of her Sfi Lending to the Lord. LENDING TO THE LORD. A TRUE INCIDENT. ^hifband'Sy^'"^' ^'"' *" ^^^* of her and two n^i "'^kmI^''' of support for herself and two httje children, except the latour of her own hands ; yet she found means, out of promotion o/ thttLTo/ her tV°"^^^^^^^ ^^ pence fol rcligifus ^s Ld be«n"lij^ f '^ inquired how muc^ Twi Th» '='"""«'«> »*. I- r ■/ 68 Found Afloat, of his head, missus,' said Ned one day, as he came in rubbing his grizzled hair in a perplexed way. * I've had the wind completely knocked out o' me, I have; nothing escapes his sharp eyes ; and,* he continued, throwing him- self mto a chair, * only think\what he has been a-asking of me just now. Why, he waijts me to tell him this, why it is that the sea heaves and pitches,— jumps up and down he calls it' » «» ' 'And what did you say, Ned?' said Dolly, smiling at her husband's confused face. *Say ? I didn't say anything ; I just turned on my heel and left him staring at the waves with all his might, as if he expected to see something walk out of it. I wish his godfather, Captain Chunck, had been here; he'd have knowed how to answer him.' But Ned's happies^ moment yr^ when Jack Sprott, or any1)f his old messmates, came up to his cottage, perhaps of a Sunday afternoon, to smoke a pipe wi^ him ; then little^Alfs devemess was duly, paraded before the visitor. He had been taught by polly to repeat, * How doth the little busy bee,' and every one who entered the cottage had to sit and hear him say it, till Dolly began to fear she had done wrong in teaching hun, for she feared the praise that wis constantly being showered upon him would com- pletely spoil him altogether. , , * Come along, my kd,' Ned would say, with a grin spreadmg over his wrinkled old face. * Give us that 'ere hymn your granmar has taught you. Come now, stand forward like a man ; head up, hands down, make your best bow to the company, and away she goes.' Little Alf woiild then step out as desired, and having tugged one of his ^uris and scraped his foot behind, in true nautical style, he would repeat the hymn as demurely as a little judge, Ned joining ift the last line, or slowly repeating the last word, as he had b^n accustomed to do in the«forecastle at sea, when the songs had been sung. " But it was not all sunshine either with the little found- ling j for there came a time of sadness and distress to ; Hjfmnd Afloat, 69 came m ' I've had ; nothing iringhim- a-asking this, why ttd down, niling at my heel ?ht, as if wish his e'd have ►prott, or , perhaps m; then e visitor, doth Uie : cottage I fear she le praise uld com- h a grin that 'ere w, stand ike your I having :hind, in lemurely X slowly ed to dp sung, e found- stress to J Hurstclifr, when many little children were seized with scarlet fever, and the very last to take it was little Alf. How dreary it seemed to Ned to return from a long patrol along the coast, to find the boy lying in his cot moaning and ill, and scarcely conscious of their presence ! How he missed the little face at the comer of the garden, waiting his coming, and the sound of his merry voice as he ru^ed back to the house to announce to Dolly that * Granpa wjls coming !' Ned was a good man in his way,^ blithe did not distinctly realize that a^ kind providence watched over all ; and from the first he felt convinced that Alf would die. ,. • * Ned; my man,' Dolly would say, the tears standing in her honest giey eyes, * you must put yer trust in the gr^at Creator. I do believe, if the Lord sees fit, He will spare his young life.' , _ *Ay, if He sees fit; but He won't, missus. No, I sees clearly this 'ere child, that was making our house so pleasant with his cheery ways, will be tQ^ Jiy^is too, just as our own little 'lad was. J wish I ha^ lefFhim in the sea, I do,' said Ned gloomily. \ - _ But little Alf lived. Even after the doctdir had given up all hopes of him he rallied, and once more there was happiuess in the cottage. During his illne*, Dolly had been greatly comforted by the frequent Visits of Mrs. Dartmor, the vicar's wife. Her own children had been amongst the first to take the fevef, but had now recovered. She was a gentle l^dy,kind to the poor, and al*rays ready to soften off any unpleasantness that might arise from her hus- band's peculiar temper ; therefore, being well aware of the slight feud that had arisen between Mr. Dartmor and Ned about Alf, she had never failed to take a w^ interest '■ in him, and many toys and pretty playthings, along with other and more substantial tokens of kindness, foun4 their way to the cottage. Ned could not help feejing a little jealous of Mrs. Dartmor, notwitiistanding he had a great respect for her; but it vexed him, more than he cared to own, even to himself, to see that Alf s head lay easier ,1 f 70 Found Afloat. no one could when she arranged his piltows, and that „v. u.ic cou get mm to take his medicine so well as she could d fhe truth was, little Alf was becoming to Ned a sort 01 1(^1 ; and there was no doubt,^if he loved the boy befori his Illness, he did so after a thousandfold more. So] with many kmd faces bending over him, and loving hands! to minister to his wants, iitde Alf recovered, and was soon able \o be carried in Ned's strong arms, and laid on soft cushions in the little arbour in the garden, where he could he and look at^e sea, ahd watch tiie small craft saihng out and in of. the little harbour. And, after all tear of infection was gdne, some of the llttie children from the village would come to pay him a visit, bringing with them bunches of wild-flowers or fruit gathered fr«m the plantation close by Hurstcliff. At first Alf s little visitors were radier afraid to venture n^ in case of meeting gruff old Ned, and they would creSp cautiously round the rocks, watching for him to go away to the sta- tion, as he did daily ; then, when |ie was safely out of y3r ^^^ would conje stealing up to the boy with th^ir little offenngs. Froirf the fij^tf he had been quite a little hero m their eyes, for he had come amongst them in such a^trange way, tiiat they had still a sor^ of feeling of awe about him, as if he vere something of a fairy child,-^ bemg to be looked at and loved, but not to be treated as If he were an ordinary boy at all. On one occaslob, Ned had come back very unex- pectedly and surprised the little group seated on the g^een, with Alf laughing and chattering like a parrot in tne midst, and appearing to be in a state of great delight m their society. But no sooner did Ned make his appearance when a general rush was made to escape, wmch, however, w^s made impossible by^N^d's bulky j figure blocking up the doorway; they were therefore/ -€ough trembling at his dreaded presence. Ned laughed heartily at the uproar he had caused; and now that they had cor^ into" such close contact w^th him, hk didnot seem to be^so v^iy dreadful •■V \ •t.* not nearly so pleasant as Miss Moore. The hard lessons in the study, however, made the Wednesday half-holiday all the more delight- ful ; and, somehow or other, Frank always found himself waiting at the schookoom door' for his sisters, now that Alf was there. Though li'rank v^as nearl/ three year^ older,. Alf was such ari active, liveljr little fallow, that he did not make sucii a bad companion, ^way along the coast there was a cave that the children were neVer tjred of exploring, and mostly every Wednesday, if the Weather was at all favourable, they paid a visit to it, with Miss Moore in close attendance. The cave had been the^ hiding-place of smugglers in days gone by, and on that account it had a. pfegiliar^, charm for Frank, who knew every legend coraiected with it When the children were / tired of gathering shells, or building houses on the sand, they would seat themselves round ^ flat stone that they called their table, at the entrance of tiie * Smugglers' Grotto,' and while engaged, with youthful appetites, upon the good things kind Uts. Dartmor never failed to supply for them, Frank would repeat his stories— sometimes frightful ones enough— till the little giris would be so 'horrified that th^y would declare they hever could coMe back anymore; but the next holiday would ^nd them there again, it being the favourite resort of Ae boys, and ney would scarcely ever agree to go anywhere else. ~ * Oh, Alfy !' Madge had said on one occasion, Frank's ■last etory having been more horrible than usual, * how can you ever want to go slgain ? Only think of those bad men putting a light on the rocks to make the sailoris think it was the harbour, and all the time it was to make them put the ship wrong, sON|hat they might be drowned, and these wicked men could then take all their things !* — >^ier thie\ ,.^^\ :*^«-... MM 74 Found Afloat. * When I'm a man, I'U buy a big boat, and go and kill all the prates and all the bad men that put li|hts on the rocks,' Said Alf, m such a detennined way, that litSe gentle-hearted Madge was quite frightened for a moment, and hastened to reply : ^ * Alfy, dear, don't ; you mustift want to kill men. You Sthhf ''%.'*?' '"'^*' ^'^^^^"^ *^"g« ^g^i^^' ^«d then, mth her soft plump arm round his neck, she continued •We won't go to the We any more^ we'll only go to the harbour to see the boats, Alfy ' / 6" i" we H-nw t^^^°"^ '^ot listen to Madge, and paid no atten- boh to her coaxing ways, and stoutly declared -his inten- tion was to ^o to the cave that very minute, and nowhere ri-U, ?,"/ * ^V^ "°^ *® adventurous took strong hold ^Vi h? 5 ^^l,^'"".^'^ ^'' ^°^*» ^"^ strengthened with his strength, and Frank Dartmor unconsciously fed I* ^^ ^^^ ^^^ *° *^™® ^° *e Smugglers' Grotto ' Mr. Dartmor, tiiough he had not at first appVoved-c^ Alfs c^ng to the vicarage, began to take an interest in him. He could not shljt his ears altc^ether, so that he was constendy Kesmng^of the boy'f cleverness ; and occasionally, when he passed the open schoolroom door, and saw the fan: curly head bent low over his book, and the young face wearing such an eager expression,^^ one happened to be within sight, he would^walfc in and ^ £.u ?li,^'"l^^ °? ^f shoulder. When Ned had be^n told of this, he chuckled greatly, and shook his head, as he said to his wife : Ay, parson can't help seeing our ^oy has something m him-that lie's a lad worth taking lotice o. If he asked him now«bout his laming, he'd astonish him, he would. Why, %z\i Sprott's bov, that's half as old again, can't read ^gh so well ; and for ihat matter " there aint one innhe whble viilage can come near him ' iiut Mr. Dartmor came round even farther. It happened m this way : Ada, who was now eight years old, beinij > year older than Alf, was apt occasionally to be rathf domineenng to litUS Madge, an(^ it vexed him greatlv when she was oppressed in any way ; and ^he grew olde^ V Pln^nd Afloaf- 9 V .y he boldly took her part, aiid defended her rights. Madge had a little kitten that she dearly loved ; and one day, when Miss Moore was out of the room, pussy came frisking in, little knowing what a commotion her entrance would cause. Ada, when she saw the kitten, jumped down and caught it ; but puss, not liking her freedom taken from her in such an. abrupt way, scratched her captor very severely on the arm. Ada's temper was up in a moment. She dashed the krtten furiously doVn ; but puss did not seem to have felt the rough treatment, or to be sorry in the least for what she had doneV which enraged Ada so much, that she hunte^ her round the room to inflict further punishment M^dge entreatea her to spare it, but Ada would not listen. )' NastjTbeast ! I'll knock its head off. I'll teach it to scrtttch me ;' and creeping under the table where th")^ kitten had retreated,^ she managed to get hold of it once mof^. Alf, who had just come, fn for the afternoon lessons, saw at once that Ada was * in one of her tempers,' as Frank called it, and that his favourite I)l«g?atean4 friend was in sore distress. No sooner did he^derstand what was the matter, than he at once flew t^reScue the kitten, whict, aftet a gpod deal of struggling, he succeeded m doing. But Ada had lost all control over herself, for the kitten had given her several fresh scratches, and the pain was severe. She stood aiid stared at ^If for a moyient ; then, stamping her foot, her paSsion broke out anew, uttering words that changed the Qurrent of little Alf s hitherto peaceful life : . • Oh, you nasty boy ! hOwdare you interfdre with me ? she cried ; then coming clpser, she cofijipufid, * Ydu are ^ nothing but a pauper. : Old Ked is not ybUr ^ndfather. If he hadn't taken you in, you would have had no home ; you would have had no clothes, Only rags to wear. I wouldn't be you for—' . ' .^ What' more sKe would haye said, it is raipossible to say ; but Alf, %ming a scariS^pfe towards Madge, rushed oyt of the room, and witlHJ|phjs cap or oiitercoat, i s 76 J^bund Afioai. r : s s ^«H v^T ^?'''^'7J*^.^^^""^'^°^ never paused/tai he knewhpHLr^^^^,'^! smuggle,?' cave. Th^gh Alf knew he had been picked up out of the sea, he sbmehow f^^'' u^^,,"*!^^^ '^^' ^^^ ^^ki« w^ Ws rekl grand- ^.J\.%f K? ^u-^" ?. ^^fPPy* *^* *»« had^ver had c^use to trouble himself about the subject^ but now sitting on the ground, with the dim lights and shadows of the grot o round him, and the sea moaning pitifully in his ear, httle Alf realized his true position^. The rising tide came bursting and bubblmg to his l^et : the breeze came stronger and the spray dasiied itself over him ; yet stall he sat, findmg a vague consolation from the ocean. l^^^'l ^l ^^^ ^^ ^""^ ^^"^^» ^"^ *e sea alone could !filjiB.T ^ wanted, for the old man had, at various ti..i™!ilklate,^showed a decided unwiUingness to satisfy feiiy on this pomt, the truth being, of course, that iw so httie himself. It was to the sea therefore . ; s young fancy now turned, with a growing deter- mmataon to discover something of his own origin and his After Alf was gone, Ada stood bewildered at Weff^r-- of her words. Little Madge was almost as stupefied : but the remembrance of her playmate's white face made her feel that something must be done, for a great fear had taken possession of her, that Atf wquld run away and never be heard of rtjore. She hastened to her papa's study and as well as her sobs and teaiis would allow, W told her story. Mr. Dartmor at once! sent down to the cottage to see ifthe boy had gone hoiie, but he was not tftere ; and- m a few minutes more— it was marvellous how frLT^K^'^?*^-^.^ ^^°^^ °^ *^ fisl^rmen and sailors from the bay knew that something had hjujpened to the boy, who was a general favourite witii/eveiy one A few came up to the vicarage to offer their services to go in search of him ; no eas)rmatter, for no oneinew in what direction he had gone. Frank, however, vi^s of great service. He had just been reading Cooper's:4eU^known Indian stories, and was dehghted at the thou^tof putting his knowledge V.I / Pimnd AfliHxi. if of war-tfafls into practice. Having carefully surveyed the ground, which had been soft for some time, he came upon the mark of a small footstep outsi|« the vicarage, pointing towards, the beach, and givin^pat he fanci:cd a regular war-whoop, he called out to tie youthful part . of Ae company, who had assembled in great numbers, ' Follow me; boys, I've found his trail.' The boys joined eagerly in the hunt, whUe the old men followed more slowly. Getting his^ band of volunteers into the proper Indian file, and the usual step adopted by those savage warriors, and having cautioned them to ^^ct silence, Frank led on with almost unerring correct- ness towards the sea- side cove wh^re the grotto lay. Here they at once discovered the object of their quest, ^ scrambling up ^e rocks to reach the road above. Frank felt a little indignant that Alf should thmjt of returning home at;all ; it would have pleased him much better if thebt^Tiad showed some signs of staying away altogether; ^ had only been engaged in attempting to light a fire, ^ gathering the dry sea-weed for a bed, it would have ^dised him tenfold 'in Frank's estimation. But as yet, ^whatever he might feel afterwards, Alf had not come up to Frank in his love of adventure. ,^ Very glad were Dollar and Ned to have the x>oy once more again under their humble roof. They would not believe that hfe'had been in no danger, but treajted him as if he had been rescued -firom some untimely fate. From that time it may be said Alf s childhood came to an end. He would ^o no more to the vicarage, but would sit moodily at home, as if all the spirit had been knocked out of him. Mr. and Mrs. Dartmor were very much dis- tressed to think that one of their children should have„ behaved in^such a manner. The vicar wient^ himself to^ the cottage to see Alf, an^ was so kind and courteous to" Ned, and actually of his own accord he proposed to take the boy and instruct him along with his own son. ^ * I always knew,' said Dolly, triumphantly, after Me. Dartmor w£is gone, *that the parson had a deal of kindly £i^ i \ if longs .o n>,.: u::Z:\ - ^°ger wUl be goin. >>.„ ' .t- •.*^ •4 V r^ r'^i. "P^ p 7] '/ ^«»N N IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) *-^ I 1.0 I.I 1:^1^ 12.5 S "^ 12-2 ^ i:^ 12.0 L25 IliU 11.6 «^ Photographic Sciences Corporation IV I- fe // .*v^ y. ^ X •1>' ^ \ \ :\ -^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 *, "^''^^^ "tS "^^ >v^ >* Y t£ EL 320 aaDDath schools, and 217 even- 7« / am going on Before. feelmg about him. I'm sure I've said it often afore now. youVeriehL°'H^'!: ^^ y°" have, and maybe after all Th^Jf !l^ u "J ^ ^^^ ^<^^' uncommon kind anyhow about this here busmess;^so I axes his pardon fo^VhaT J ve said agamst him in the past. And n6w, my Sd ' he contmued, turning to Alf, 'you're to be und« A/wKon'! own eye; ye're to mind that whatever he ly^is^rt ye're to look to him alays, and obey him ireve^^fn^ ' for he's to be hke ye're real commaidyer for tJe^ese^t' I AM GOING ON BEFOR£. at the gate. '-'Our School,' in Our 'Own Fireside. *I AM going on before, mother, To our dear heavenly home ; But^ when I reach the door, mother, I'll stay until you come. '• * You'll see me at the gate, mother, You know there is but one ; And you'll not make me wait, mother : Your work is ahnost done. ' I think that I could rest, mother. If you would let me lie On your warm, loving breast, mother. And sing your lullaby.' She sang a low, sweet song ; He slept, to wake again • ^^^^IS^^ ^^^ prolong ^ J^aK, familiar strain. i\ w. h. >""•— 1 ^ .x M our prop curio stud ^■' re now, iter all myhow )r what ad,' he arson's right; thing; >resent Stories about Birds. STORIES ABOUT BlIlDS. THE SWALLOW. 79 r you ^ IRACEFUL little bird ! with the dcCT), glossy blue wings and head, J^l white breast, short legs (featltered to the very toes), and forked tail : how well my young readers know it, dnd love to hear its twittering note, and watch its rapid flight through ' the air, as with open moutii it pursues and swallows the insects within its reach ! There are several species of the family in this country ; but the one I am going to* tell you about belongs to the tribe wiUi whose nest, built under the eaves of our houses, you are all well acquainted, and which, properly speaking, is called *the house martin.' How curious their rdbf-covered homes are ! their one end stuck so firmly on the wall close to our windows, as if to ^ t. S i^-\ 8^0 Stories about Birds. ^aZ rS,"^l^''?', **" "^""^^ °"' proceedings ! Dearly d d one httle boy I knew love to watch a paif of martini as they flew out and in of a nest which was just mSide hoirnT ^^. ^'^«^^o°lroom, in a beautiful counfr^ S-T'i^^^^!!! ^""i °^/''' "^^ ^^^ ^«^d "fted from the book nf.!?!^ '5 ^' ^/''^' '° ^^ ^^^ ^^y peep at his busy tfl t^^'f-''^^''?^^ '^^^^ repi:oyed for a l)adly-said lesson, he confessed that the time whidh should Lve been spent in leammgjt, had been devoted to counting how majy times, in the course of half an hour, the parent birds flew out and m with food to their young ones • an interesting occupation, had it been play instead of lesson time. DonS you think he had forgotten, tiiat " 'One thing at a time, and that done welL Is a very good rule, as many can teli ?' . Ah, weU ! ^e littie boy is a man now, busily employed m an eastern country; but I am sure y^remernbera the old schoolroom, and the swallow'^a»^ What clever builders tiiese little bir^^^ constructing the outer part or shell of their nests '(composed of mud ^tempered vath stow) early in tiie miming, so that it may »?fwf rf i"""^^i^ day : and tiiA lining the inside with soft feathers, different kinds of grass, and a littie sti-aw, ready to receive die piire white eggs. There are many cunous^stories about swaUows, showing their fond- ness for then- young, and their cleverness in overcoming difficulties. As an instance of tiie latter quality, a ladv has sent me tiie foUpwmg anecdote, of which she was herself a witness : , A swalWs nest having fallen to tiie ground (caused by the opemng of a window from tiie top, to which a portion Gf Uie nest had been fixed), tiiree littie ones were found m it They were unhurt; and a little boy put' tiiem carefiiUy mto an empty nest which had belonged to a sparrow, tiien placed tiiem in a basket whicl|wa5 drawn up by stnngs, and fastened outside the window, nearly in the same place as their nest had been. 'S ■ Tories about Birds. 8i 'S ■ Presently the parent birds were seen flying round, twittering loudly, as if tQ express their surprise at the state of matters ; but on hearing the chirp chirp of the hungry and frightened little ones, they ere long began to feed them, and continued to do so undaunted by the stooge change ; but, for all, that, they were not satisfied. Litde swallows were never intended to Uve in a sparrow's nest, which was not nearly so snug a dwelling as the one they were accustomed to ; and really the nights were some- times cold enough ; something must be done. Human beings might think that nest in the basket good enough ; but they knew better. So, setting busily to work, they constructed a roof of mud and straw over the basket i. and there their young family flourished. Now, little readers, were they not a pair of clever birds ? Swallows have always been favourites with mankind ; perhaps the very fact of their showing confidence in us, by bmlding their ne^s so near us, may have endeared them to us, and given rise to the superstition, that it is bad luck to pull down a swallow's nest In America, these little birds are also great favourites ; and §ome tribes of the wild Indiai^s love so much to have them build neaf them, that they hollow out gourds and fasten them to trees near their cabins, in hopes that they will make their nest ther6, which they often do. Many strange stories have been told of the places where some of the swallow tribe have been known to build. A well- known'^ naturalist the Rev. G. White, tells of a pair of swallows who built their nest on the wings and body of a dead owl, which was hung outside of a bam ! A gentle- man, amused at the strange^ sight, made a large shell be put up in the place where the owl had been ; and the next year the same pair of ^swallows built In it and brought up their family there ; but I don't > think these were our friends the house martins. I have heard of people being so cruel as to keep swal- lows in cages for their own amusement ; and one writer tells us, thai in Paris he has seen cages fiill of these 8a Stories about Birds. them, in orde; to have a ri^hf .?P^' ''^PP^.^ ^'^^ bought . and set them free ^^ ^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^ P^son doors Jhen the lutumn wi^d &t^^^ birds,--that is to say! dropp ng their summer foS th. ^'n^^^ '?^ ^^^« ^« God-given instinct, meet tof elhlr f T'' ^"^ ^^ ^^^' off to warmer land^, ?om ngfack^^^^^^ ^*^^^' ^^ breeze to their old homes und^r^ *^ balmy southern with their ea^er twit?eW a °" ^^^^«' to. enliven us them asobsTrving the vano.K "V^ ^^"'"^^ ^« Pictured place in ,our ho4s^IS Th. ^"^'' ^^^^^ ^^^« taken bright young faceTan^^:'^^^^^^ T^--^ the their absence, have been ShT- i°™^' ^bo, during this is all fancy • but T L ""^ '"^ ^^^^h. No doubt often thought^that he ^ ^^ "7 y°"°& ^^aders hTve and recoX £, t tS v^elrl '^^ ^"^^ ^"°^ ^hem! marvellous how t}Sselit^^JT^y ^?*^- ^s it not tnii; long journeys over k^^ %ble to perform thei^f for the guiding, protectL hln r 1"^^^^' ^^^^ ^t not takethca.«ofalftheSuresH^^^^ Moving God, who never be able to overSn^^ S/^ ^*^°^^de, they weuld encounter in their lon^tT^^^^ "^n"^"^ '^^^ "^"^^ m Scripture ; and in TeremL - '"^^^^"^ ^« mentioned an humbling^onLs" fen thToh^I,^' ^'^^-^^^ ^^^« bird to the instinct imnlS In •?^t'^'^''''^ °^ '^^ little Creator, and the disSence o? ,f ^'^^^ by the great of men to His Te^td^^^Cn'^^''y ''^^^ <^^^<^^n Saviour for bidding us * Co^L S^"?^ '^^"^ had our many a lesson of iZ ^tl^^ ^°''^' °^*e air.' for heavenly Father we may^e^^^S^ T '"^ ^^^^ ^^i*"*" not pleasant teachers ?B«T^f^^ ^^^"^ > ^"^ "^ they n?er friend, the swallol, f^ly^lJl^'^' ^^t ^^^ ^^ bid us,— for this drp^m. o!^ ^"~^^®° ^ »t has already sunnie; clime^ 'm^s? "^^^ T^* ^^^« ^'' baskii^ T^ for us that aS^ oS ftenS ^n ^'""^" S^overMVeU "^ends do not Jeav^ us in dark day^ Alice and Fanny. e remarked ind bought rison doors nths in the at is to say, e trees are !d by their t night fly >^ southern Miliven us s pictured ave taken issin^ the 10, during ^o doubt 3ers have )w them, not truly 3rm their re it not ^od, who -y weuld ley must intioned 2t draws he little le great children ad our air,' for J of Qui- re they r sum- Jready king in *WeU • days^ 83 for not yet have we reached the land of perpetual summer, where the sun shall go down no more ; but till then ' We know that He who o'er the sea Hath been the swallow's guide, Will much more hear His^hildren dear, And for their wants provide. ' M. H. ALICE AND FANNY, OR DISOBEDIENCE PUNISHED. WO little gifts were playing one lovely summer day in a beautiful garden. Their names were Alice and Fanny, and they were sisters. Alice was in her eleventh year, and Fanny just nine. They were unlike fcach other in appearance and disposition. Alice was tall and slender, With a thought- ful, though not by any means s^ejjpres- sion of countenanj:e ; she had dark eyes, and dark hair. Fanny was full of M 4i^ frolic; her laughing blue eyes showed» her , ,. "f "^ disposition. She tossed tiack her auburn curls as she bounded with childish glee down the gravel F^^."^^"^' fr'^l, ?^^ '°' *^ ^^ ""!« doft/'Come, l-rohc, you and I will have a race.' ' . - Now it so happened, that at the foot of this same gtavel walk there was a small wicket gate opening -into a*'" meadow in which there was a well. Mrs. Malcolm per- suaded her'husband to keep this gate locked, fearing an accident might some day happen to her darling chil^en. I-or years the lock was on the gate, save when any one was passing from the meadow to the garden ; but Mr. Malcolm, findmg it most inconvenient to keep it locked, ;• t ■ 84 '^iUe and Fanny. i Si«°°a'nH%''' ^'' "^^ ' ^^"^ I ^'"J^. 'f you caution lock^^ tS^Iif^ ^!f-,T^"' ' ^' y°" '^'"^^ of removing the mf.«; L '\^ children, and we will tell them thev the mom * ^"'^ ^° '°'' ^"d Mrs. Malcolm, lea^ng the room soon reappeared with her litUe rirls '^^^""^ tn Jr°'"^^'^' P^' '^^^"'' ^'^ Mr. Malcolm : « I am jroin. to g^ve qrders this morning that the wicket imtTln J^ ^"h?o telf both 'f "^"^'^ buf bTfor?drg^^^ I have .of ^' ""f ?"? "J'- ""■= 8^'" are«krf,^" diXn became a promise-breaker. * "*^™ peepmg up here and there, and the bank^'^S S vpV f fii T^ * ^^^^ ^°' ^'■^e" from his young mistress yet full of eagerness to have a run round X^„rifi?l meadows Fanny stopped too. Ah I my rtd«^&^n Se%3st"irt T--^*-Pti4TrdeS Sal^ «e suggested the harmlessn^^ of taking me rau round v\_ v^ Alice and Fanny. 85 the meadow, and told her she need not go near the well and what other danger could there be ? But a voice whirocred in her ear-// was the voice ^ conscience— Children, obey your parents.' Again Satan endeavours to drown the voice of conscience, by telUng her she might gratify her wish, and no one would know she had been in, for it was dinner hour, and the men had all left their work, and her papa and mamma were engaged, so that, unless Alice came after her, she might take a race and no one be the wiser. Oh 1 Fanny, Fanny, you are sinking fast into Satan's snar^.^ Why stand wavering? Why not silence the tempter b^ the weapon of prayer? Could you not offer the well-known petition, « Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil?' How much you resemble your first parent Eve! In like manner she parleyed with the tempter until he gained the victory, and she ate of the forbidden fruit, and gave unto her husband and he did eat— thus bringing sin and son-ow mto thw fair world, and causing death to come, and oftentimes rob us of our dearest treasures. sMw young readers, if you ever feel tempted to do wroiSl advise you to be decided ; do not stand wavering.^^t were, balancing the for and a^inst of the step you are going to take. If conscienct slys *you are rigfu; then go' and do what 1$ right at once; and if it whispers, 'you are wrong, then avoid the snare of the eidl one, and resist him with the words, * Get thee behind me, Satan.' I am sorry to say, Fanny did not ask God's help in the present c^e; she leaned to her own understanding : she thought of what she would like best, not of what would Ihe"fll! "^ ^ ' ^^ P^'^^^ "^ ^'^ ^y^^' ^°^ «^ ,\!. ^°°!f' ^'°"?» l"^"^ *^^ I ^ ^ve just one race in know ^ "^^ ^°"® ' P^P* "^^ ^^'^^^ wiU never A^^tJT^l!?^ it be possible? Ar^ you adding vou o J^ ^^^°^^^^^^<^« ? But « be sure your sin will find you out. Fanny was not permitted to enjoy her race. 86 Alict and Fanny. thing sharp ^undcr h J L^ t'- I^V" '^.« ^^""^ «>°»e^ unable to do so thr'niifn nf k ^t? '° "**' **"' '^m *Oh H*o» I' 1. ' ^ P*° °' "" anWc was so sever** d?? How^Qollh'l'i^s?'"^ "-'^ tears, ^whl? sm'^I I wish I hL « ** *?.*'°"'*^ »»to the meadow.— how 1 WISH 1 had never entered it I ' Affain sh^ fr,-^ 7 i? house, and the menWere ^11 ^X !*ad returned to the hour passed. and^S?StJir in''' "^'"""^ ^^^ during that half hour Thl I *• ***"/i[J^P»orse she suffered to thf agony !!ft Jn'd^ rsh°/ 'sa^t^^r^^^^^^^^^^ enormity. -» »» «ic saw ner sm in all its to listen. . Yei. s^'^Tel^J to SmselT^^''''''^ m sorrow ' mH nW P/;«-. «mseii, some one is few steps, and then heSd dfstinX th.v'^'^^^i;* master's little dauirhtM. z^... • u ^ ,® ^°*^« of his MS spade in «he meadow .nHT... a "* *'™'' "^o™ Roger, and he'B soonTel^ "o^^ * 5^' ^*" °" r :^^T^HC?r- «=^-^ o^n': \ . AKet and Fanny. «7 I Slf" ^^^^' hM tripped you over. But come now, airtl V I U soon carry you home, and you'll just have to make a dean br^t of it, and ask to be forgiven. But mind. •Miss Fanny, what I tell you. There's no good comes from disobedience, for the Bible says, " Children, obey your parents in all things."' ' Roger, I am a very wicked little girl ; please - Ro^er did not Torget his promise |o Fanny. One wet morning he asked Mr. Malcolm to allow him to spend half an hour with the young ladies, to tell theni a story / \ 83 Aikt attd Fanny. about his gijuidchild , Mr. Malcolm knew w<>n hi. .^.;^A - would hear nothing from oW Bn^Jl k • u " **'^*'^^ to partly fill the void in m5 iSrT '"" **"' — 8he was then about eight veara oH vtZZrl^ *" «^«tly. "No, rft^?;^,,^^.*''^'' »""«' "/ 4 > i Alkt fMd Fanny. \ thought to myself, " Jf the child meets with a temptation' won't it be hard for her to resist it ?" ■* 'The mother had not gone very far, whpn b comes Elizabeth and Ani;iie Price. N *" Come, now, Maggi^,': say they, " put on your bonnet quickly, we are g9ing to have such funl The teacher in our school said we might have a holiday; and she said as manvx)f us as liked might go to the Meadow Farm, and she would send directions to old Betty to give us plentyof tea and home-made bread. Was it not kind of our teacher ?" '" Very,'' replied Maggie ; " hut I can't go." *" Can't go r* said both the girls ; " but you must We ne^er could be happy without you;" for you see, njy dears, everybody loved little Maggie. '" But I tell you I can't go," she said. "Mother told me not to leave the house until she came back, an4. I'll' not leave it for anything. Not but I would love to go with you ; but you know I couldn't ^ow, could 1 P" she added, as liie girls lingered, still hoping Maggie woulduchange her mind. ^ *They did not answer; hnt left the house with slower steps thaxytity entered. Maggie watched them as they passed down the lane arm in arm, andj'think^e did wish a wee bit that she could have gd^Twith them ; but when she turned intp the house, I heard her go to the chai?- ^ at the fireside, and kneeling d^wn, she said, " I thank Thee, O Lord, for helping me fo-crusA Satan." * Her mother soon after c4me in^ and seeing her there, said : , > , . " . ' . *" Oh, Maggie ! have you riot gone with the girls to Meadow Farm?" and then Maggie told her all, and she felt so happy^izx happier than if she had disobeyed her mother. It made the mother's heart very glad, arid I confess it added ar little to my own happiness; for, you see, I reasoned thus : " If Maggie obeyk her earthly j)areriK this way, won't she be the more ready to obey her heavenly Father, and submit to His will in after life ?" *1 did not then know my little darling would not long serve the Lord on earth. She very soon after sickened. \ ^r 90 -^^ice and Fanny, . I think it was fever fnr ci,- fte time she TJil ^^^T^^^i rn'"erytunnoil, Jrom sin and danger free- ]{^;Sd ^Kr^:^^^~^ toOod who gave And soon,' my dears, old Ro J t?l ^^^"^.'^''^^-home." longs to meet his dear litdlSS-^^^^'"^^'^^^^ ^e "m-, , ^^^^^^n that sweet place— ^ere everlasting spring abides ' '^"^"^^'^'•■^theri^flfweJsSow"' this ^i^^^^L*?,^?^^ Cheeks a, he told J^noW they would sWffh!^^^^^ .They wept too, 'Thank you, Ro^er ' fh! 7, V^'*"^ °o '"ortfr^"'^ verymuchoWed tayouft^v^^^^^^ '^e are Fanny, 'I willl^/R^er andT^r/^'^^' ^'^d/ added child and you'll one day see mv m ^^^''- ^^ ^ g«od and happy home above ' ^ ^^^^^^ '^ the bright chUd!°Vr'^spmb1ete^ ^"'^"^^^ ^ obedient often thought of Siose solemn ""T"' ^°' ^^^* and she sure your sin will find yof o^' "''''^' °^ ^^^P^^^^ ^ * Be •Deceit and disobedience lead To sorrow and disgrace • • J- K. ; Ragged School Reminiscences. 91 RAGGED SCHOOL REMINISCENCES. THE FOUNDERS OF THE MOVEMENT. . T is now more than twenty years since the V^ Ragged School movement began \sr<~\ to attragfie attention of the pubKc. It has irow grown into such mag- nitude in London, that, within a radius of five miles from Charing Cross, there are 204 day schools, 326 Sabbath schools, and 217 even- ing schools, with an average attendance of 54,984 scholars; more than two-thirds of _ whom, but for these facilities, never would have been within a school, nor have heard, the name of the Almighty, save when it was taken in vain. All these schools are under what is called J the Union,' and are supported by grants fi-om fiinds at its disposal, and by voluntary subscriptions collected by each separate school The affairs of the Ragged School Union are conducted by a large committee, composed of clergymen and gentle- men ; and the noble Earl of Shaftesbury has been its chairman or president ever since its formation. You would, I am,sure, like to hear something of these devoted men, who have spent so much time and money in trying to rescue the poor outcasts. Many have gone to reap the reward of their labours ; but there are still a goodly number left, and working hard in the cause, who witnessed its formation in 1845. I will begin with * our noble Early' — ^the only name by which Lord Shaftesbury is known, both by teachers and scholars. The latter, at least the younger of them, could tell you no other ; but all alike claim him as their own mdividual property. The scholars look up to him as a father; and the teachers know that in him they 92 J^agged School Reminiscences. he IS ready to visit a school ifP^ ^•^- ^^ anytime to give, bj his wL counsel Zfort ^^1: 1' "^^^ *^^' perplexed superintendent nt *^°°?"^^ ^"^ help to some Of the ^iBMZz'^r^^sit^j'>^ir::^ as their huinble means wiU permit fnr *i.^u ^ . poor creatiires. Lord ShafSw^c o ^ ^^°^^* °^ *e the poor is even Zre Sf/nci^fi, ^^^"^ntance with It is veiy amusing trwTnll^ then Judge Payne's. bypeopTepf aTlaLo^soei^^^^^ ^"^^ mylor^r SurerneverrK'ma^:o^te^ ^<*gg^ School Reminiscences.' 93 Next comes Mr. Payne, lately counsellor, but now judge, who, after his Lordship, is best.known and mos£ beloved. He, too, is ever ready to visit a school, what- ever Its locality may be, to aid with his advice in its man«fement, or to take a class if a teacher is wanted : his kind words, his meny laugh, and original mode of teaching, making even the most wretched happy for the time being. At the Annual Meeting of the Union, iield m Exeter Hall every May, when our noble Earl always presides, and when the spacious hall is so crowded that hundreds go away for want of room. Judge Payne's appearance bnngs down loud and continued cheering. His speeches are not only most amusing, but also foil of good advice and encouragement, and always conclude with what he calls * a taU-piece,' that is, a piece of poetry full of wit and point He has written upwards of 1800 of these pieces. I wil^add one at the end of this paper ^ a specimen. He often receives presents from some of the schools in which he is so well known : one night he appeared at Exeter Hall with a pair of sUppers which had been made at one school ; a shirt made at the Lamb and Flag School, on which was embroidered in red cotton, at toe button holes, a Iamb, holding a cross and flag (the Knights Templars' insignia); and a waistcoat which the giris at Field Lane had made for him, but we were such poor tailors there that we forgot to put in pockets. As he showed all these things at the meeting, he said we were sensible people at Field Lane, for we knew he had very httle money, and if he had any to spare it had no busmess to be in his pocket Then Mr. John M'Gregor, the barrister, is so well known for the numerous works in which he is engaged, for raising the moral and physical condition of the lower classes, that he needs no comment from me, but he is one whose presence always brings happiness. I could enumerate m^y more who have laboured in the work from its con^B^cement, but will only add the name of Mr. Gent, tlMfecretaiy of the Union, who, I ,'-..^ii,'>^!.ife(-" 94 Ragged School Rcminisemces. whichl^e^^JkVh^fJfa of ?n 4? offshoots to have told youSe M^oT^S'S'i ^.f™" ?»*. ^ I mth; of Kune that r«t. • * children I have met oft«i ftaHive «^7 r^i" ttnr/ ''«'5 whole, the pleasure predonOnate '^^ «h^. on the i • "Ax. J. • Lord Shaftesbmy, my leader. When first I met with thee. \^. I was a humble pleader, , -^d thou a great M. P. Yet we have worked together Through God's abounding iracei In every kind ot weather^ In every sort of placet •Lord Shaftesbwy, my leader, When I thy service took, Thou wast a constant reader Of God's own blessed book. And I have trie^ to foUow, And so our bond has been Not feeble, false, or hollow. But sted&st and serene. •Lord Shaftesbury, my leader. Our fiiendship has gone on. Till, growing like a cedar, Its years are twenty-one. And nurtured by communion, \ And tramed by Scripture rules, It stands a manly union For God and Ragged School • LoM Shaftesbury, my leader. When earthly work is dont, And death, the mighty feeder On all beneath the sun. ,_-(>\:«f^. . Th€ Duty of Children to their Parents, Has laid his hand upon us, And fixed us with his dartsf The fame our work has won us ShaU dweU in chUdren's hearts. ' Lord Shaftesbury, my leader, Long may'st thou live to be An earnest interceder For all whom here I see. And when, to swell the chorus Of heaven, the good attain. May not one voice before us Be wanting to the strain. • Lord Shaftesbury, my leader. My muse has tired her wing ; And soon no cause will need her, And she will cease to sing. ^ But now aU join to speed her, „ While thus they hear her say. Lord Shaftesbury, my leader, God bless thee night knd day. »» 95 THE DUTY OF CHILDREN tO THEIR ^ PARENTS. BV THE RKV. J. THOMSON, PAISLEY. " few orS • , ^^""^ '^ contained in these ZT^ ^^ S"nple words : ' Honour thy fS£r why mZ^^Z&'^.T ^^^ ""^ '^°- or not; bm thSe ,? «n f^^'' ^^ ^^^^^^ *«"■ Parents '*h^ V <5 96 k The Duty hfChtidrm to their Parents, from Him, who gave you being, who supplies your daily wants, who bestows all your comforts and blessing^ ; and above all, who gave his only-begotten Son for your salva- tion, and who is to be the Judge of tJie world in that great day, when every one shall receive according to the . deeds done in the body. See, then, that ye reftise not Him who -speaks fidtsi heaven, and who has power to cast soul and body into hell. 2. Because it is a right and rmsonahle duty. — This is evident from the relation in which children stand to their parents, — a relation of inferiority, of dependence, and subjection. Every father is a king, as well as a priest, in his owi^ house, and he has authority from above to rule his family in the fear of God, and in accordance with God's will. When children, therefore, disregard this authority, they ar6 guilty of despising not man only, but God himself. * GhUdren, obey your parents in the Lord ; for this is right.^ 3. Because it is highly advantageous to the children them- selves. — ^The fifth commandment is ^t first with promise j for God has annexed to it a promise of long life and temporal prosperity, in so far as that may be for His own glory and for our real good. Arid though dutifiil children may die as well as others, or though they may live in comparative poverty, yet still the habits of self-restraint and submission to audiority, which they acquire M home, tend directly to, preserve their lives, and promote even their bodily health. Such habits also tend to fit them for greater usefulness in society, and to secure for them that respect and confidence which pave the way to worldly success ; and above all, such gracious habits acquired in early youth, tend to prepare them for sub- mitting to God's authority, and for listening with meek- ness and docility to the instructions of His holy word. * A father's voice with reverence w« On earth have often heard : The Father of our spirits now Demands the same regard.' *x The Duty of Children to their Fhrents. 97 ^Ir^lllf '^^ Z^^ ''*^^''* *^ "is P^^ents, as long as He remained under their roof. But His respect and love did not cease even then ; for while He was suffenng Ae ponies of the cross, Jesus observed His mother (who was Aen probably a widow) standing near, and oveffimed concerned!; S:^' forgetful of His own suff^ringsT^I concerned for her comfort, He commended her mth His t^hL 'r Vu'i' care of the beloved discipCiying on^™\nH^?^^ '^^^T*"'"'' ^"^ ^°^^'. 'Befiold Ay son! And it is added, that from that tiie John took Mary to his own home, and treated her withTe love and respect of a dutiful son. « Let this mind be fe you which was also in Christ Jesus.' »" "e m you, oA^ofV^n' ""^ '^''T^' y°" ^^""°^ <>bey this, or a^t un Tn [h?^h ' commandments. * Foolishness is bound Zh- K f^^^" °^ * ^^'^^'' ^^d corruption too : and nothing buE grace can drive out sin, or draw us ti Ae Sforljnha.^"^' "^^ Chnst,^myS:cris'suffi' siften if^;,^ ^' ^r^ ^^ '""^^"^ the^roudest, can soften the hardest, and warm the coldest heart That r^ulTen aSdT ^^^!^°bedient into a du^fful' cMd the sullen and froward mtoa loving and gentle child and the thoughtless giddy, and frivolous intf a reflectkg ' oj children, lik^ the nvers of water, to their parents and fo'th'rGod^T;^' s *"^ ^^"^^"' -^ thTrei'of Doth to God And. that grace is given for the asking when it is asked in the name of Christ • for if eS fwT' ' l'^^ ^^^' ^"^^ h«^ to give goid 2^^^^ S^lrHor."^-"^^ T^ shaU ?our^h2v?nly F^er fe .£?! *^°^y.SPf ' t^ *e^ that ask Him ?' * Ask, and ye shaU receive.'-^rm fThe Domestic Cirdior^he Rdattons, Responsibilities, and Duties ofHomeLtfe ' r 98 Sketches in India. SKETCHES IN INDIA. OMETIMES in winter, when the snow ^ IS falling fast and the children can- not get out to play, I dare say some of my young friends are ready to cry out, ' Oh how I wish I were m India !— no cold Queers there- no chilblains — no need to wrap oneself up before going out. , I would just fun out as much as I pleased, and play in the garden and catch the lovely _ butterflies, and climb the palm-trees, and It would be always bright sunshine, and I would be so happy ! I wisfi I were in India.' btop ^Jittle, my young friend'; not quite so fast, if you please. If you were m India at this moment, instead of running about la the garden, you would be obliged to nfZ- . r^^ *^ "^^^l^ ^^y ^^^"^ ^bout seven in the morning till five or six in the evening; and instead of jumping and runmng and climbing, with bright eyes and rosy cheeks, you would be sitting in a comer with a very white face and a bad headache, longing for the sun to go down ; and the Doctor would come in and say, ' That child is getting too old for this country ; you must send him away to England by the veiy n7xt Mail.' So you would find yourself very quickly separated from your deaf parents, and everybody whom you cared for,:and sent Ynl^T'l^-}''^^'^ r"^' ^^'^^y ^^'^d of India, ?o England, with its grey skies and its bracing winter days, ^.t'^r ^'''^/"'^' ^^^ "P ^° ^^ ^'^^"g ^"d hardy like their fathers and mothers, and soon learn to brave the cold, and laugh at 'Johnnie Frost' and liis snowy coat m/rLTn- r ^?^"tiy summer and winter are the most marked distinctions of the year,; in India, the chief differences lie between the dry and the raiiy seasons Sketches in India '99 During the dry season, for week after week a«^ «, .u after month, not a dron of rain f, 11 T ' *"° "^°"*^ can ever be seen S Jr^T/ ' ^""^ scarcely a cloud that not a b ade'l^Wsfblf^/rf' ' ?"f ^^'^^''^^ "P' «'> leaves, as with us in winL; 7 ?^ *^^ *'^^« ^^^e their stand kll drooping and coverS^^ -^vf!? '^"' '^^'^ t^em «iade of india^f ber The fi^'t'^ound ^^ "^ 1' ''^>^ "^^^ morning, and the last in fV, ""*^ °"^ **^^" »" the drawing^ water from weH^ .n '"'T'"? ' ^' *^^' ^^ «^en and fields, wher^vrmhin^ suPply the thirsty gardens watered. ^verythmg ,s ready to perish unless . Jb?com: etVdaymorrh:' '"' *'^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^e •ieem scorched SidtL^^ fT^' '° ^^^ '^^ ^^^^^ seamed wS r^nts as ff ^.n" "^ 5""°"^"' ^^^^^^^^ and This goes on tm ab^utlhf Sl/of ? ^""\ °^ "^^^^- ' the «.«...«, as it is calleTa^ ^^^^^^^ ^^"'^^ evening, and fly wildly over tWarP T^ ^f ^^' ^''^'^ watched by everybody for bv Vhl. .• '^.t '^^^ ^^^^^'y for the rain. At last^l,;^ ^ ^' ^'""^ ^" ^'^ longing a flash of I^htn^L seems, nr'^;? grow black overhlad! followed bf a'^reSfro"^^^^^^^ it is instanti; , a cataract. You never saw ^r^ ."''^!.'' f^d ram like but sheets of waL it c?Jl. 1 ^"^ -^^ ^' "*^' ^^OP^' of Jesuitry heafwhkhTe^ii:?^^^^ -"d mstead wild south-west wind blowLTover fcnS''^ '' "°^ * mg all before it anH r#»fi.oVi!- 1 ,^ ^"° sea, sweep- this rain DroduroH iv v*' .*' **'° °^ *ree days of balsams Jd o4?^?d KS &e^JLf '°-'yP"'P'e J become green affain • nn^ fu • ' , ^^^^ ^^^^ haste to a mass HLfsticks ^-^ ^"°^^'' T^^'"^ "^^^ been like creepers, and covered '^^^^^^^^ ^* ^^^"^'^"1 is impossible to descrihl V^f ^^^"^^^ ^^^^ lowers. It Ked\y t welfom?^^^^^ ^-ge pro- Ihome grumbling and groanin^r^ ?i ^^^ P^°P^« ^^ K it were a,4^ suSTw^l'^^'Se^rSi^^ ©»*# ' lOO L&ttgiig/or Hpiti could see what it is to be long under a cloudless sky, in ' order that they might know the preciousness of God's welcome gift of rain. For it is He who orders the weather, and it is beautiful to see His wisdom in all He appoints. David knew this when he said, * He turneth the wilderness into ^ standing water, and dry ground into water springs,' Ps. cvii. 35. And beautifully does he describe his own earnest longings after God, when he says, in Psalm Ixiii. i : ' O God, thou art my God ; early will I seek Thee: my soul thirsteth for Thee, my flesh longeth for Thee in a dry and thirsty land^ where no water is.' You will find similar expressions in Psalm xlii. I, a, a^d Psalm cxliii. 6, and many Qther passages ; and if you will turn to John iv. 13, and John vii. 37, ycaudrill find how the Lord Jesus Christ himsdf promises to sup: ply the water of life to the thirsty soul. I hope that some of my young readers who have reference Bibles will look out these passages, and they will be able to find others of .the same kind relating to this su^ect. And then, dear children,- think of God's goodness to you ! Lift up y^ur hearts to thank the blessed Saviour who has so fi-eely offered you this great gift of everlasting life, purchased for you by His own blood, and say to Him, for your own selves, as the poor woman at the well of Samaria once did, *iord, give me this water, that I thirst not T LONGING FOR RAIN. (WRITTEN IN INDIA.) ^* For water, oh, for water I* > All nature seems to cry ; As o'er the Indian landscape, The sun of May rides high. The grass is parched and withered, The trees all drooping stand; And like a barren desert, Appears the thirsty land, ^ ^Longing for Rain, * For water, living water !' The fainting spirit sighs. 'This world has not one. fountain That truly satisfies ! The plants of grace are drooping, The fruits of faith are dead : I need a gush of water From the. living Fountain-head J Send forth, O Lord, Thy Spirit, Thou only canst impart A flood of life and gladness To the weary thirsty heai^.' . * For water, O for water !* This heathen country groans : Unblessed by streams 0-om heaven, They worship stocks and stones. They worship what they know not,-- Ah, Lord, they know i^ot Thee ! Pour forth, pour forth Thy Spirit, Make known salvation frecy^- Till India's sons are. gladdened -With streams of heavenly gr^ce ; And to a smiling garden !- Thou tum'st this barren place I ICf fi -♦"nivyw* .,'■' ^ loa Time aud Tide Wait for tio Afqn. '\ .-p.- ♦TIME AND TIDE WAIT FOR NO MAN HY THE AUTHOR OF 'cOPSLKy ANNALS.' ' UNDER MICROSCOPE,' ETC. ETC. CHAPTER II. seemed as ,f everything was too pleasant to leave,--the waves were 'Wng up SQ coolly at the foot of the rocks which went down al- most like steps from the entrances to the caves, and the sea-gulls had been flapping, about "quite near to ^ "s. and Maryand I had turned round and were watchmg white sails out of the bay, and wondering where they were ^Tf' ^n-' ^°'^'^^'"' ^^ '•ose up^ some' what unwillingly at Miss Irwin's call, while i.rrr • i^^ ^""^ ?^""y P"* the things together in the ^ basket ; and we were proceeding in a leisurelv mani J tn prepare for our walk, when suddenly oTr briers can^! running round the comer where the^ rocks nroS^S?^ wards the sea. with the. exclamatiL^'whaX eve^^ one. been thinking about ? The^MrieJ^ nio.i ^^^^^^/X wall already ! - ^ ^*^£ ^ "^ I *l Poor MisS%win, who, whatJuKn^d bee1fifn\r.l dunng the time in which her iPfefnot closed h.f r vT ^^-^"^bering that thT^ dTd not co^f Jp'^^ the higher grpund on which we were encamoed nn& ■. covered the sands along which labour rS ran a the imminent nsk of slipping into a deep pooUound the Reiving rocks from which the whole reach of shore mi^ht able'lil'^r'^"^"^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^ vei^uncomi^rt able «fct,^sion of countenance; desired Fanny to take F,^.^r''1'J''?'^^'^"«*^' ^^^d ^f Mary, and^begSne Ernest and Fred to keep with me, began to lead tKa/ She had not lon^been with us, and. was therefore1^?£ I « c. Tufti and Tide Waitfyr no Man, lo.^ JStomed than many would have been to the rapid rise the tides on the Desborougfc coast ; while it seemed lAiaccountable, only so it was, that all of us should have been too much engaged with our various occupations, to ' remember that flie waves ^«ame up to the caverns last of all. ^ ^ I am afraid that I was not very sorry, as I looked along the sands, and saw thai/ we ' should have some paddling, as a matter of duty and n^qessity. You see I had rather an enterprising spirit, and did not, as before observed, buy my own shi)es and stockings, and had a comfortable impression that upon Miss Irwin devolv«d the responsi- bihty of delivering us up in safety to our parents ; while, in strict confidence, I imparted to my brothers that it was ratlier fun to see a grown-up lady obliged to run along through the edges of the waves, which already begap to touch the sea-waJJ, and come over'her toes. *l can't go "so fast, and I'm afraid!' suddenly cried Maxy, who had at first laughed with us. at our perplexity • and good Miss Irwin lifted her up quickly, wet feet, and all, and earned her as well as she could. But meantime the water was up to our ankles, and Mary's depression of spirit began silently to infect us also. Fred, after.a minute, stopped to look back. He knew more than Miss Irwin about the tides and the coast, and she stopped at once, as he called out to her, * Miss Irwm, it's no use going on ; the water will be up to our knees in a quarter of an^our, and there's nearly a mile to the steps.' * But how are we to get away at all ?' asked poor Miss Irwin, panting under Mary's weight, which, however, was nothing to the load of inxiety portrayed in her counte- nance ; * the sea wall is too high and steep for us to climb, andevfery moment is precious.* * The only way is to go back,' said Fred: * There are some rocks on the other sideof tiie caverns which would hardly be covered as yet ; aijd if only we can get round them, the shore goes in a little, arid some way oh there's ^W.^^l; 1liW':-J ■.Jk -■^i, -:.i •. '■■t, :S.f^. V ■ CI ¥: 1 ■♦ .\ ■;; >-\, 104 Time and Tide Wait for no Man. i-v.*5: a «eep sort of watercourse up the cliff which we must m\^Z°l?i^^ '"^ '' ^^^^ Miss Irwin, looking very ■TS wMe a'SSlt'"^"."' ^'^' M-T in^tanUyS decided hr^lV .?,f *' 'P'^*" "P '0 O"-- ankles gave a decided hint that there was not a moment to snare of o?e&h/;;"'^' ^"^ ''^ '»<' Emesi each'^i h„,d might « weZle one's, mylV^':^?,^ ,*"' ' sdt water enough withiuf ouj " nttibXg Vm"e ■ rou^irruV':j'':h^ca*-h^i:^tS^ houre before, we had dined so meirfy 'and I relf^.' our Uble-rock, with the thought that very sool Z„ would be washed a^ay, while ! marked hll rlp^K TOves had mounted up since our departure and X *» ^TeraCd;"'''**''-^^''"^'' beenl^nr^a^Vnd*: „ 'Don't pull my wrist so hard. Emest' T coi^i u ^c «>q^h!&Tr:a;;:sr.:5i4*rerTfe ^I'^tl}}^ ^ ^ »-»'■«' into one of thr^i^LL'd" i i-s "^ Time and Tide Wait for no Man. ich we must looking very tantly chim- kles gave a spare, h took hold think that- and that I take to cry- 1 as fast as from being )ecome our which were say behind >. There's any more.' and feehng our backs »re sjippery ^eryj step, d o|ur way thart three remember I adorned sooii they apidly the i th^t the i^as ^nder said! half ryfo|m€d you hear !r ? You ives, and 105 It was an awful thought, especially as I remembered my disrespectful review of home comforts, when I had been dreaming of Robinson Crusoe life in a cavern, and I humbly surrendered my hand to my brother's, thankful to be steered round slippery pools, and to be -held up by his greater strength, as we made our way in front, followed by our kind, burdened Miss Irwin, who was obliged to make little Mary walk now and then, when she was unable to carry her longer. Higher and higher rose the tide as we got round the rocks, and jumped on to the few inches of sand between the waves and the perpendicular cliff, which it was hope- less to think of climbing. 'IfDW far off is the path up the cliff, Freddy?' asked Miss i^vin, anxiously. 'Nearly half a niile,' he replied; 'but you see this bit of coast is farther in than it is on the other side of the caves. The sea there^ust be a foot and a half high bv thistimfe.' /. /* ^ ^ • Then we must rffn,' said Miss Irwin. ♦ Fanny dear, you take little Mafy's other hand ; we'll both help her together.' And we did run : Freddy, encumbered only by the basket, first ; then Ernest and I ; then Miss Irwin and our sisters. We ran till we thought we could not run any faster ; but the waves, though they did not seem in such a hurry, made haste quie^y, and. were craftily intercept- ing our passage. Once ^gain they were up to our toes, now to our ankles, and were now creeping up our legs with a playful sort of caressing motion, that seemed the more treacherous and unkind, .i • I can see the place in the cliff now,' cried Fred, look- ing back ; and poor Miss Irwin, who was shortsighted, vainly stretched her eyes in hopes of seeing it too. • I can't run any more,' panted Fanny ; * and I know we shall all be drowned ; and what will papa and mamma -say V — ro6 Time and Tide Wait far m Man. follow her examV "" °" "" ^""' '"" ' *<""<' who S hTs fot 'dL«?^ ■'^ "'''^ "oP^f-'-y ; but I. ~at:^- - ^^^ = ^ Sent enough for us to go home ' ^ ^°^' °"* ^S:ain, hand "°'~' ^ ^"'P"*' "^ ''^ '"" ^'"gSkd on, hand-in- " dM nnf k . \^°y^ high-water mark. ' The other •' I tenible than to him ^' ° ""* " ™^ ""■•e w^Piiy" T^ ;;£ '? ?5? kaees now, and the wading— -«« Imr* wofK. My brother digged m^ i[^s^.T Time atid Tide Wait for no Man, 107 and Fanny nearly carried Mary ; Fred still ran in front with the basket. We all, even Miss Irwin, could now see tKe gully in the cliff on befcn-e us ; but we ccfuld see, too, a thick barrier ofvwaterp)etween. * Now for a push !' she said as cheerfully as She could ; but I heard her voice trem- bling, as once more she took Mary in her arms, and bravely tried to rally our drooping courage. A final push ! One minute more, the water is up to ' my knees. Three minutes more, the water is up to my waist. Five minutes more, Fred is at the foot of the place m the cliff up which we are to climb, and the water IS nearly to my chest. Six minutes more, and we have reached the steep cleft hollowed out b; somrwintlr stream m the overhanging sides of the cUff, and Snes js dragging me up. out of readr o£ the hungry w^es Twenty minutes more, and we are parting, wISy S' ing, but safe on the top of the cliff; whife It th^ foot if Tt "a .^^'"^"^^""g. and dancing and foaming as f btn alttle'Sit"? T' ^^"^"^'° "^' ^^^ ^^^^y o\Tna:ytyofbult"°°" ^-~t, quite in th^ Ir^iS^'i^^ltSfl^ in preserving us,' said MLs^ ^ifwm, ottt^ depths of exhaustTon ; whfle I put mv wet arms round Ernest's wet shoulder, and struggled for Eh! io8 Time and Tide Wait for no Man, We were four or five miles fi-om home, and no vehicle was near if even it had been safe for us to drive hornet mZlr^f""' '■ r^ ""^'l ''""^^ ^ '^-S ^ was neceS!,;^ Miss Irwm weanly led the way in search of a cottage I wonder whether the peaceable old woman^ still ^"ntTaSd thir " '^^'" ^"""^^^ ^^-°^- between S^^ o?te^ bv tS^ ^'"^ ^^°' ^^' interrupted in her quiet cup of tea by Ae appearance at her door of a drenched lady and five drenched children, who meekly enSated bf. CutTor'tir; .' ^'°"^'. \^^'^^ «"PP°- tSat she c^n rKff ? . u^^ ^^°°"'' ^'^ *be solitary cottage on the c Iff let me here record how that benevolent and good ^ti^^^ Tk""""? ^V^'' ^^^^-^"P' received us S out a word beyond words of sympathy, which fell from her hps as freely as the salt water from our gS^mentT .^. „.iS ' ? ™PPing us up in sheets, after drying us well, put us to bed; furnished stockings of Sw warmA and comfort to the others, and, aftir producing and tf.rS^' ^'T ^'T'' ""^ °*^er drawers, made tef and toast for us all, with as much diligence and good-wUl as If she had herself invited us to an evening part^ and we had only come m the ordinary course of circum^ances bafe, warm and dry, Mary and I, from that excellent old lady's bed m the Corner of the room, surveyed the proceedings with unspeakable gratification, a^d made ourselves immediately as meny\s crickets ^L^oo? Miss Irwin, almost too much exhausted to' spea^and fi«^do ±^^..''^ ^^^ P"""'"*^' ^"^^^*y' ^°"W hard y at first do more than murmur over and over, * You're verv kmd ; mdeed, I can't thank you enough ' ^ * Deary me, ma'am !' responded our hostess, < I'd do a deal morelf I could, for you and the pretty lambs bless ^.f^h'^'lf ' 5'?^"^ *^"*' '^'^ papa's well kno^ in the neighbourhood for a good gentleman. Why, it ILms ust a specral mercy my house being so handy And to -^^l^""/r "."^^ things bei^^oWio^^ — why, tea and toarst's nothing to itl^ -^iiyoj, — / I I no vehicle ive home in s necessary, cottage, nan is still )n between n her quiet a drenched r entreated lat she can Lge on the : and good d us with- 1 fell from garments, ssed Mary ter drying of untold producing , made tea 1 good-will ty, and we istances. excellent veyed the nd made hile poor peak, and hardly at 3u're very * I'd do a lbs, bless vn in the it seems And to Time and Tide Wait for no Man. 109 If our dinner had been a nieal of celebrity, certainly our tea in old Mrs. Ball's cottage was one still more to be remembered. Mary and I in our sheets con^med her provisions out of a mutual mug and plate. Fanny, on a stool by the fire, and ^vrapped up in a marvellous flannel garment, so unlike anything that I have ever seen before or since, that I cannot give it a name, more quietly pur- sued the same occupation ; whHe Ernest and Fred, arrayed in portions of the wardrobe belonging to a certain Joe, at present invisible, but shortly, we were informed, to l)e expected, consumed his share of the provision without any difficulty ; while I pictured to myself the said Joe's astonishment when he should suddenly arrive and find the invaders of his mother's peaceful cottage, like Mother Hubbard's dog, dressed in his clothes ! He did arrive at last, and looked round for a time speechlessly; then, taking off his hat, and blowing his nose, as if to clear his vision, he inspected Fred and Ernest, still without speaking, and finally turning his glance towards his mother's hospitable countenance, gave way to her own innocent exclamation, * Deary me !' *Yes, Joe,' responded that worthy dame, apparently interpreting a fulness of thought in his remark, which we could not immediately discover, *it's just that. Ahd what you've got to do is to get round the cart, and put clean straw in the bottom, and a cushion or two for the young ladies, and drive 'em all steady home to their anxious parents. I'd be proud for you to stay,' she went on, turning to Miss Irwin, — while Joe, apparently re- lieved from his surprise at having something to do, went out as desired,-^* I'd be proi^jj for you to stay all night if you would,' (and Mary and I wondered what, under the circumstances, would be the sleeping arrangements) ; * but I knows a parent's heart, having one myself; and I wouldn't be the one to keep them dear innocents from their mother's arms not a minute more than needftil for IRe drying, warming, and cleaning of them a bit' Well, you can imagine our farewells as we left kind Jr no Time and Tide Wait for no Mani y \ ^TC^d ^r^:^^;^,^yj5 cart, and jolted along climbed and foamed hih ,,n .J - ^^^^^^^^s, whiph now to drown 'giants?Ml^tu"^^ uppn it, came to th^ r?S -. *° J^e, who, thmkitfg regarded as a'stfndird meatS? it wa's'^ ""ff" "^^^ ima^me our arrival at home onrV . A"^ >'°" ""^^ ing us in the avenue and h^hnuf'^^^u ^"^^^^s^X meet- • . manyK:oloured hues of ot 1 1? ^'t ^""^^ement the water, green sealed and S h"ad ^^^? ''^ ^^y' '^'^ very different from those wS had co„,bmed to render father'sdomtionto W wT k'^u-'^^.'^^ ^^^ out- Our taking quiSn^^estTn our ';,'^;' "^"^^ IS"^ ^^^^^ -' Mary had struck una fnVnlv ^°'^' ?"^ ^"^ ^^om round at intervals in^hfs Sf' ^^ ,^',^^ ^^^^'^^ her that, having iirs pui& ^fh?' "^'^^'^r^^^ so liberal . * Deary me sir ' ^A%, f ^^'^ ^"^ ^^en exclaidied ' KindTy welcome- he t^"""j said several times over,' vited the wholTfamtlv f^V ''^""u^ f^ '^^^ ^^^ ^^d in- tion which tL weSer^^^"'''^?^ ^"^^' ^^ ^"vita- well stored with tea' su^^r ! ''^P^'^' ^^^""^ ^ basket forts, which Cmo'her fent tT.hY^^K' ""1. ^^"^"^^ c^"^" BaU for the kindness sLwn^rK ^^'i^'^ ''^^"^^ *« Mrs. My httle white bed w!^ ! ^'' ^^'^ ^'^^^^ *=h"dren. in that nighrrind L nSe P^f ""l?'^"^ to lie down the waves under our Jnl ^^^^t"'^ ^^^ fall of home felt, I came trtLTon.,?' ^".5 *^°"S^' ^^^ safe sleeping n a cavem amon. l °° '^^' ^' ^^ ^^"er than . IfellasUpwSitKthoS r^""?^' ^^^ ^^^"«^' ^nd ness in bringing us saSvfhr^^^ ^T' °^ ^^^'s good- under the clifflalthtjh e^^^^^^^^^^^ drowned in the deep quiet .Inmh? /• "^^' ^^ ^oon It almost seemefli2eTdl,m f^°^^ ^^"^ "^"^• we told all our advent^es over .ni^ "^''^ ™^"^^°« ^hen and our nurses, aft^me^c^eIL„H^T''^^^^ to Annette we had never been dra^^S ^1 ^'^^ ^^ breakfast, as if dream now, now Time and Tide Wait for no Man. tii ted along der which hifh now p enough thinkitfg ith being yo\x can sly meet- ment the cky, salt :o render Lit. Our rrived at h whom Ted her liberal =laidied, Js over, and in- i invita- L basket ar com- to Mrs. ^ildren. e down fall of w safe erthan . 5 ; and : good- xuggle soon d. when nnette ;, as if ained^'^^ , now that some of us are married and have children of our own, and that rows of houses, and terraces, and crescents are built over the cliffs which were solitary and seldom visited then. But yet it is a dream-story of our childish days which I have often remembered when the wotds, * Time and tide wait for no man; have sounded in my ears; when Vioughts of a time which must come, and of a tide which will irresistibly flow, however we may delay our expec- tations of it, rise to my mind and bid me not delay to make ready. Dear children, the tiriie of death and the tid^of eter- nity will not w^it your call. In other words, God may jummon you at such a time and in such an hour as you think not ; and if you have only been amusing yourselves in life, gathering its shells and sea-weed, careless of pre- paration,— that is, if you have been trifling away oppor- tunities of usefulness, and passing the hours without TOaking sure of a refuge in the last hour of death, you will bitterly mourn that you put off" doing so until too late. Shall I tell you what our Ernest said when he was dying, when, at fifteen, the floods of eternity began to nse round him, and he knew that his time was near ? * I have no fear. Jesus Christ has died for me. • i< Just as I am ; without one plea But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou bid'st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God I come ! "' ^Perhaps you say, 'There's time enough !' Perhaps you think, as we did when we were playing with our backs to the waves, that it is pleasanter to be occupied with your pleasures, and games, and enjoyments in this life, than to be troubling yourselves about such gloomy thoughts as those of death and of eternity. Perhaps you put off such ideas with the assurance that when that time comes you will find some reftige,— you will have credit for being / -welt brought up, well taugM in religion, quite differem firoxn poor neglected children who have no knbwledge of H2 Time and Tide Wait for no Man. And all the time the tidejs coming in -th^^t is min„fe by minute, hour by hour, week bv week vtU k eternity is coming nearer, nearer, nL^er stir ' ''^' Time by moments steals away. First the hourlnd then the day ouAas^LrwrnfuiVotl"* r!,'^^ "^^ '^f"«'= f- Jesus, believe that fl^e died an^f^lu '"""'''' ?""'''^<>n our stead, give our heat r^iranZertTo"'";' 'S If ™'rtid™re°r„WJ: if ^-'^X^i:^* ^ able to say, ^I Z::'\^]Z r^'Al''^^' ^'^ "« <( / a I- id attentive, inclined tp ?el satisfied t is, minute ar by year, something ' your ark " the Lord : •s, and the refuge for our sins on shment in ' our loah p. Then, when this fails, the 5, shall be ^ y / 3' \ J. ■V Lizzie Wiliis. "5 \ h \ LIZZIE WILLIS, AND WHAT SHE LEARNED FROM THE FAIRY QUEgNQF DREAMLAND. BY MONA B. BICKERSTAFFE. CHAPTER I. ,H dear!' exclaimed littie Lizzie Willis, *how I do hate sewing! Please, mother, let me put it awayr now ; I am sure I have worked for more than an hour.' • No, Lizzie, I cannot allow you to be-'so idle. Instead of an hoUFj you have hot been twenty minutes;^ and badly you have done your work too. See the stitches in your seams, and then look at Marion's, and compare the diffe- rence.' 'But Marion likes sewing, and I hate it.' Ifafe IS not a nght expression for a little girl. And by your own account, what is there that you do not hate ? You say you hate sewing; and if I give you house-work to do, you hate it. Yqu hate learning lessons, and you hate weedmg the garden. Indeed, I do not know what to do with you ; for you will have to work for your living ^ by and by, and if you go on disliking all kinds of em ployment, I am sire I cannot think what must become of you. > In sa^ng the last words, Mrs. Willis's voice trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. * Never mind, mother,' said Marion, * sister won't always be so Idle. Come, Lizzie, do go on ; Mrs. Bell's footman ..^^forAeje petticoats on his way from town, and ^ yours is not half done. Do try and finish it, there's a dear, and don't add to poor mother's troubles;' and / ii6 Liuie WiNis. Marion, putting her hand caressingly on her sister'i shoulder, tried to coax her into diligence. But Xizzie wj« not going to be coaxed. To say the truth, she was in a very bad temper. She knew th^r her work was badly done; and, instead of trying to do better, she became vexed with hers<*!f, and vexed with Marion too. She pouted and cried, and, ran the needle mto her finger, and then cried again when she saw the blood come ; So at last Mrs. Willis said, * There, child, put it by and go away. I shall do it quicker myself; and you are only soiling and staining it, so that it will not be fit to be seen. Go out into the wood and gather a few stifcks, the .driest you can jfind. I must set the kettle on in' time, so that we may have an early tea. J do hope,' said she, turning to Marion, *that Mrs. Bell will -send the money quickly this time. I want to lay in a httle stock of fuel, and buy you children some new shoes before the wet season begins.' Mrs. Willis was a very poor, biit very industrious , woman; one who had known better days. Her late husband was a colour-sergeant in a niarching regiment, and before her marriage she had been for many years lady's maid in a gentleman's family, in which situation she received such very high wages that she was enabled to put some money every year into the bank, so that, at the time of her marriage, her savings amounted to no small sum. Her fiiends thought she might have done much better for herself than by marrying Sergeant Willis, and her kind mistress was very sorry to part with one whom she regarded more as a fiiend than a servant ; but when they saw that the sergeant was a steady respectable man, they made no more objections to the marriage ; and , the soldier's time having expired, he obtained his discharge, and a pension, too, tp compensate for the wounds he had received in his country's service. So they were married, and, very soon after, they settled down in a comfortable ^welling on the borders of a wide moor land or comm on. Sergeant Willis, though so well off, was not a man"ta i t m ler sister'i ro say the knew th^r ('ing to do 'exed with the needle le saw the lere, child, er myself; that it will md gather 1st set the riytea. I Mrs. Bell it: to lay in some new ndustrious Her late regiment, lany years I situation IS enabled so that, at ted to no lave done mt Willis, with one vant; but jspectable iage ; and discharge, ds he had i married, tmfortable commoii. lizine Wiiiis. 117 i t a man to.' enjoy a life of idleness ; so he farmed some land near his house, and kept his garden in sudi perfect order, that passers-by often ittopped to admire the tasteful arrange- ment and rare, beauty of the flowers. And besides these home occupations, on certain days in the week he went to a town some miles off, where he atten ed scfiools and private families, drilling young people, t aching them to stand straight, and walk uprightly, whicl latter, takeh in every sense of the word, is good for the - oung to learn in the early days of their youth. In the pror ;ss of time, chil- dren were added to the other blessings At the moorland farm ; and then Sergeant and Mrs. Willi.., as they brought up their two little girls, were inclined to believe that no family in al the world were half so happy as they were. The two little girls wwit to a good day school, where Lizzie was the prettiest, but far the idlest of all the little scholars; and while her sister Marion made rapid progress at her lessons, she remained at the bottom of every class. Foolish child ! the advantages she enjoyed were by her very lightiy esteemed. J So things went on, until misfortune Came, as it often rif^^^?.^^°r'^ M ^^^ expected; and so it happened to the Willis family, for one day, when the sergeant was coming home on the coach from giving his drilling lessons at B , a dense November fog prevented the dnver from seeing the way before him; he made too sharp a turning, and struck against the parapet of a steep old bndge, that spanned a deep though narrow nver. The overloaded vehicle swayed with^the shock, and overturned, while most of the outside passengers were thrown into the stream below. Sergeant Wmis. being a good swimmer, ought not to have been drowned, but several of the terrified females clung to him to save themselves, and so all perished together. This temble accident, which was communicated too suddenly by a thoughtless n«»iWiK«.« u-j -...i. _ _-j ^fieet upon the poor widow, that^shTwas for many days confined to her bed, her brain seriousl ^ ■ : '^ Ii8 Lizzie Wiilis. after a while^it pleased God to restore her reason, and though she alose from her couch broken in health and spints, much of her former energy soon returned, and as ^.she could not bnng back the good husband who had been so suddenly taken from her, she set about exerting her- !^i l^v"^^^^'" ^?"^^'"^» ^° ^^^ she might know what ^e and her dear children would have to live upon. Ihe farm-stock was sold, and a good deal of the house- hold furniture too; and then, with a heavy heart, the widow bade farewell to the home in which she had en^ joyed so many happy years, and with her children took up her abode in a cottage, which, though very small was prettily situated on the edge of a broad belt of w^J°'» tl^"'^'.^"°'^'' ^y *e "^e of 'the Duke's Woods. Here they soon found- that they might have been much worse off, for the place had many natural advantages. There was a little garden, which, when put n order, would look very pretty. There was a nice green frlm^. V J K^ ^,'^°"u'*^''i '"PP^y °^ P"^e fresh ^ater came from a httle brook, that, dancing merrily over the pebbles. Sfi,!"; * P'-etty cascade close by the garden gate Alto- gether when the widow became accustomed to the very small dimensions of her new dweUing, she felt that she waf TlrT^ *° ^' "J;^?^^"^ ^?^ ^^ ^^'^ humble as it was^ It wasall her own, being a gift from the good lady in whose service her youth had been passed. ^ Very soon the little garden was put in order. . Some flowers from the old home made it look gay enough T M*^/^ ^/^^"v *° ^°""«h, as Marion took Lre thf y about theii ^,1.'^' i°''^ ^r ^^' ^"^ ^^^ learned much' about their culture by watching and assisting her father A good industrious giri was Marion, always cheerful and happy, because she was ever active and busy. It was she l^^e^"^^^^ ^T' ^" order, while her m'oth" wS fn gag^ at J ier wasbmgH^^r Mrs. WiHir^ a good^auTT— ^ dress and needlewoman, and knowing well Ihat 'God i helps those who help themselves,' she begged her friers "^ Lizzie Willis. 119 reason,' and I health and med, and as ho had been :xerting her- know what Hve upon, the house- heart, the ihe had eri- lildren took very small, >ad belt of the Duke's might have iny natural I, when put nice green ting far out ivater came tie pebbles, ite. Alto- to the very It that she mble as it good lady er. . Some ly enough care they ned much her father, eerful and It was she er was en- oodlaun-^^ hat *God ler friends t at Stokely Hall and elsewhere to give her their washing and plain sewing ; and so in a little time she managed to make out a livelihood for her and her children. But it was no easy matter to get through all that was to be done,— indeed, they had to work very hard ; and, I am sorry to say, all the hard work fell on Marion and her motheK, for Lizzie, though nearly ten years old, took very little pains to make herself useful in any way. She was a very lovely little girl ; but, unfortunately, she thought too much of her beauty. She had been almost idolized by her doting father, who was never tired of praising her golden curls and large blue eyes, always saying she should be a lady some day, and that her fahr complexion should never be exposed to the weather, nor her pretty hands spoiled by hard work. Had he lived, poor man, there is no floubt but he would have done his best to make his word true ; but Providence knew better what was good for Lizzie, and her heavenly Father took His own way of showing her that life is not given us to be passed in dreamy idleness. On the bright afternoon in which our story opens, Marion and Lizzie were sitting sewing in the porch of their little cottage, which was shaded over by a luxuriant vine, from whence hung many a ♦^empting cluster of small green grapes. The summer breeze blew softly in at the cottage dcror, bringing with it a sweet scent of roses, clematis, ind mignonette ; the birds sang merry songs as they flittefl among the trees in the green lane ; the little brooLsggmed to be whispering a fairy tale as it rippled over the pebbles and danced down the rock ; while the cooing of the ring-dove, and the crow of the pheasant, added not a little to the harmonious sound that filled the summer air. It was indeed a delightful afternoon, and Marion would have dearly liked a ramble after the strawberries and other wild wo od-b errie s in t h e f orest close b y ; but- one glance at her mother's pale careworn countenance told her that it would be very selfish to think of such a thing; so she tried not to look as if she de?5ired it, tao Lizzie Willis. and only worked the more dilieentlv so a.; fn \.r.^c. ^u ^^^? Li^f|eJ>egan to look tired and idle, and he?rd hS rnother tell her to go and she would finish her work for . she knew vety well that she could do it if she would 'and rnr^o'rht^tir^' ^'^^f^^f ^ -hiieiL7ht\on' ^^Dear m.^ .^ t7 T^. "^^^'^'^ *° g^* ^t finished. somShtL ' T ?°"^^*^ '^^ ^ ^^^ Lizzie would try to do .,^r^ fo K^* ^ ^ri""^ '^ S^^^^s mother 59 much,^ I am s^e father would not have been pleased hjiKer so Idle She says he promised that she shoiMR lady but I wonder ,f grand ladies are always^Elhave they nevei- any sorrow such as we have ?' ^^ to^'lVDL'^rWoJr^^^ <>° h^L)^y ac.^\:^\x: J'\ ^°ods,» where her mother toldJi& to miration LTm ' • ^^ ^' T^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ l<^id o«iili k • V^.P^^"y ^" ^^^ cnmson cotton dress her ^^f* ^ T"^ "^^^^^^ "^^°S"«« ^th the song o£ he »r.hl .? 1 '""''« bnlliant eyes, and dartine off iusi as she thinks she has surely cauW him tt,!~ i.^ • now, hovering overhead, high mfa fte S • n^lfn n„" down, as if mocking her Ji se'^mtag ,o^y"?Ca"?h me" htUe girl— you may if you can.' ^ v-atcnme, mJJ^J'"'"' 'iu** '*'* ™'""" "nonths is gay with =^^Api^ Ti«e are bante^,fwild thyme tffi^— »ms l?ereTtl?l>'™"'"« *'" ^""It^ented^^s^ soms. There is the blue campanula, with its graceful Lizzie Willis. 121 3 have the very sorry heard her work; for '^ould, and r her iron- lished. i try to do ^d I am her so lady; '^ — ^have 5ter, who iress, her ight eyes and joy task, long the Jie little ? o£ the nd then iptea to igon-fly, ody and etching off just e he is ip, now tch me, ly with rtempr d blos- Taceful S^Xfolden'fl?' ^*- J?^°L^ ^°^^' ^'^ '''' ^"«t«rs of Stately golden flowers; the heath and the furze- the scarlet poppy and com blue-bottle,^aU minglSg'thdr s^nv nook h' 'T ^ f^ ^^^^ '"^^ ^Xilnyl ' ^xZ ?.° , ^^"eath the tall forest trees. no^^V' r^ f^ "f"^^ Pr^^' '° °^^°y P^e«y flowers by un- noticed ? Certamly not Lizzie Willis; so she gathers Aem from one side and the other, until her litSe haKS hdd no more ; and then she throws them aU away in Sr excitenient to reach some wild raspberries. She m^ed a little while ago because a needle ran into her fingeS^^^but she does not cry now, though her hands and SSs are St?.h2:'thf ' r^^^'" '^ *^ brambletTn th hire • shT ex^^ ^row ' Oh ! if Marion was nere She exclaims, 'jjhe hkes raspberries so much • and T To^ll S^' ^"'.'^c™"' °"^y I ^^'^ "o basket or aiJytSw K en?u^S-fo\"' ^^!f ,^^gr^/ting her sister's Sc"! to th^Xt^if K^? Tt ^^'"^^^ ^"^ ^^ J"«t beginning need not have been alarmed, for though the Set had S^bf tht v"' ^ •' ^ ^ ^^"^' h« <*id L follow herv no ?K "^ wu^""^ " b^"^' ^"° t«> suck sweet juices from mSe^l.'''^ *" ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^"^^ «^-g -ft- J ttghtened fo.fr?A?^'"if ^'^ ^'^ ^^'^ °"» ^e'*'^'- Stopping until she Sen li?''^^^ '? * P^ °^ *^ ^«'«st that she had never Dond a'\ ^'•''? ^ ^°"°^ dingle, ending in a S ?h?. i u- ^^^»?«Jy se<^J"ded spot w still and quS 2^^n^°^°S'^"?^' ^°" ™'Sh* fancy himself in Ae d?S 1SJ formS^f ? * a' "^^ '^^^s interlacing theirthick SuSr of Zl K^ "^f °P/ '^^^ "»"^' »^-^« shut out aU view of the sky above, but for a few openings among • • ■ 3 / 122 LizzU WiUis. ) thpllfc ' ^ ^ 'i transparent glow to the colouring Of the leafy screen, and then aiTing with sunny brirttoess to warm the mossy bank below. This bank m !»ft ^ ttetht ^ft*ir i'"™^ ''^ ^-^ fl«"^e.C^i^ of rt!.^! , '«^*«'y horsetail, fringed the edges me tall Felut mas,' or male fern ; the proud • Osmunda ' i-adyfem of which a poet sings— '* ^"^ 2^ r°P'^ !^°°^ >5 tJ'e greenest, Where the fountain glitters sheenest, Where the morning aew lies longest, 1 here the lady fern grows strongest. ' Yes, it grew there, tall and strong and graceful undi.u turbed save by thd summer breeze that "at Wde and-seek among its feathery fronds, caSsing them to ^Ipsro&n^^^^^^^^ ^^- am^n^ . upport Vf^fL^^ "'^■^"?' ^^^^^' deprivedTtSe sXf^m 7?. TV ^^T^ quite'too heavy for its long ^?L! , T ^^^ ^^ discovered a quantity oi the bog- pimpemel, and now a little patch of the forget-me-nof • fo^^r 7 ^r^? '^^ ^"«^* rose-coloured blosfomrof Ae fomer look when mingled with the tourqoise blue of Ae Now\S?eiv'^L^^^^^^^^^^ ^P^^e^ of the^meadow-sS^eS! m^^' r« T ®- ^^ ^''O"^^ '• ^"t see, she is all excite- ment, for she spies something she particularly wishes to have : what do you think it is ? A beauS foSove Z S Jon ^o'tff *^ h^r^elf, covered with Xf ^K Its to p to the v ery root. Ah ! it is a hi»a,.Hr. And IattTc » quite determmM tn «pr,,r« ,v. k.^.u" V'?^* r"°^'^^^^^ she cannot break it, so she pulls and pull, „„«! tlie X ^ LittU Willis. "3 . ed with a louring df >rightness 'O soft, $o setting to lis, which, he edges refusion : •smunda,' na,' that I, undis- at hide- them to if trying t among ! See ! hooked dt)jr the its long bhe bog- me-not ; 8 of the e of the r-sweet! exdte- shes to love, as lis from U ^ jzz i e-^ tough iie roM loosens with a sudden jerk, and up it comes, and with it a quantity of loose earth, some grains of which fly straight into poor Lizzie's eyes. - Oh, dear ! what trouble this gives her ! She Tubs and rubs, and of course makes matters worse, until at last, what between the pain from her eyes, and weariness after all her running and rambling, she throws herself upon the grassy bank and soon falls fast asleep. If the ground was not so damp it would be a pleasant place to sleep m, for the birds are singing overhead, the grasshoppers are chirping as they hop about in the sunshine, and blue dragon-flies are resting on the lilies, or darting in and out among the rushes by the pond. Presently Lizzie fancies that one of the white hly- buds is growing larger and larger, while its snowy petals gradually unfold, showing the graceful figure of a lovely little lady, dressed in. a robe of silvery gauze, spangled -with the blue flowers of the forget-me-not. Gazing around her with a queenly air, this beautiful little creature stepped from her floral throne on to one of the large oval Uly leaves, then, taking the stem in her hand, she used it as 'a rudder, and steered her course over the water to that side of the pond near which Lizzie was lying. The fairy lady did not seem to be at all pleased to see her there ; indeed, she frowned and stamped her foot, and showed other signs of being very angry. * Who,' inquired she, *is this great idle creature invading my territory, and taking upralf this room on the gJeen-sward where I hold my court? She is in the centre of our fairy ring, too ! Was such impertinence ev*r heard of? I cannot reach up to see what she is like, so I must mount my steed and fly round her, that I may have a good yiew of her enor- mous body.' Saying this, thtf fairy sprang lightly upon a large dragon-fly that was waiting near, and, hovering over Lizzie's head, she scanned her features very closely; then seizing one of her eyelashes, she pulled at it with alt her might. * Wake, up,' sai^ she, *wake up ; I know very ^ well who you are. You have no right to be here, for #■ ^ Z34 Lizzie WiUts. this is "Dreamland," and I am its queen : so fret ud at^ ^ once and leave my dominions? > so get up at so mss' tr^l^' ' ?^^ ^?, "^ '*^y- Y^" '^^^^i «ot be so cross, for I shall not trouble you in any wav I onlv want to be quiet^ for i am very Ld and ll7epy.' ^ 'uDa^oLT''r^'^'^J^'>"^^'^^°t»^tir^e^^ Get very comfortable^when you came to dis Jb n!e? ""''"^ 2Toum Vl^f ^''°'^ ^^' y°" *° "^ ^«"g o^ the damp ,f ^irK .^^dewy grass agrees with us fairies, but to vou It wiU bnng sickness and sorrow ' ' ' * I can't help it if it d6es. I don't feel it in the l^ast alonel' ,^?^ J"st go away, and let me '■»€«'"* .'"PP'''«» I ' sneeried the fairy. ' I am sure you • Ah 1 that was only because I puUed up that nash, foj^love, and some of the loose soil ab?ut ite roSts w^S ranic IS so soft and pleasant, I should like to lie here ^wj^^and have no work to do, nor any tiresome lessoi;! "" ffc,'.*"""' ^''.•.** ♦»'•>'■ 'yo» long galleries in his own dark region under- ground. Indeed, I do not know of any creature whose habits are idle enough to suit you ; so I advise you to be contented as you are. But stop, now I think of it, there "^ one that seeffiS ta have less^to^dd than niany^other~' animals. To me, its style of life would be a great pi^nish- ment ; but you, being so idly disposed, might possibly 126 Lizzie Willis. minJl,!*' X""" ^"""^^ ^^y^ ''^^P ^"°"gh then-for six months in the year if yotf like.' T^.}^^^^'^}^^ ^?f "'^?"'' ^^^^ L^"^^^ * »' is a dormouse, owl or a?at' ""' '' ^''' ^ "^^^^' ^^ """^^^ ^^ ^" ' No ; the creature I mean is very well protected from all animals except man ; and even when caught by your species, they only nurse it, and pet it, and feed it with the tn7^^^^ i^i"V^ S°"^^ ^^^^ that-just for a while, you know. And I should wish the people who will have the care of me to be nch and great ; for I mean to be a lady some day, 'and it would rfye me a nice opportunity of seeing the ^ys o/^grand ffouses.' PPo^niry ot n ^y^^^A^' ^^'^ the- fairy, « I will manage it for you. But mmd i^is your own choice, and if you are not happy you must not blame mfr Now, go to sleep, and when you wake, you will find yourself as you wish to be.' And with the^e words the fairy disappeared. * {To be continued.) ir ->. \ —for six jrmouse. ht by an ted from by your with the lile, you liave the e a lady unity of for you. •t happy id when .' And. Air—f^ All among the Barley.' • The wintry winds are sighing, For the days that are gone past ; And the echoes are replying To the murmur, of the blast. But for us no voice of sadness Hath winter's hoary reign ; For the song of Christmas gladness Shall soon resound again. * Chorus — Christmas tim*e is coming, Gladdest of the year ; • We hail thee, merry Christmas, Oh welcome, welcome here I Now ivy branches twining, We wreathe a garland green ; And holly-berries shining. Peep in and out between. King Winter, old and hoary. Gives freely all he can ; And a flood of Christmas glory Should ch^r the heart of man. Chorus — Christril^i time is coming, etc I ■■- if^jJifc^^ii^^Ls;. .. 128 A Christmas Thought. Prepare we joyful greetings For the friends that are to come : Let us dream of happy meetings, And of many a welcome home I E'en he who dwells in sadness, . By a lonely fireside, May yet find truest gladness In the joys of Christmas-tide. C//^/^j— Christmas time is coming, etc — School Songs, A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT. • He that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth unto the Lord.'— Prov. xix. 17. jOU are all looking forward to Christmas time, with Its happy meetings and its kift greet- ings. Your friends will be trying to make you happy; will you try to make others happy? Your fiiends will be giving you presents; have you any presents to give? The Bible dfcscnbes such days. It calls them 'days of gladness and feasting, good days ;' /days of feasting and joy, and of sendmg portions one to another, and gifts to the poor ' It was on a day of public joy that Nehemiah saidf * Go your way, eat the fat, drink the sweet, and send portions to them forwhom nothing is prepared.' This should be done dieerfully. iGod not only says,* Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother,' but He also says, mine h?art shall not be grieved when thou givest unto 3uP^^a<^'lCT^«^ c heer M giv er /— i r,<^^ Christmas Enigmas. ffp CHRISTMAS ENIGMAS. My first has been wept whUe the worldiias slept; My second's an orb of liquid mould ; My whole on the rose in sunshine glows, And the leaves of the forest the gem en(old. My first is lily-white, and in the sunshine bright A fair and spotless thing, earth's purest covering : My second on the thorn, displayed at break of mom In countless beads of dew, is pure and shining too : My whole, when first are heard songs of the early bird, Withffiowncast eye looks forth, to deck the vernal earth My first in a hero is strong, in a beautifiil lady is fair ; Its plural is laureUed in song, and of Britain's the foe *. may beware : My second's a simple invention,— now do not suppose me in jest,^- v WeU worth the regard and attention of the weary im- ^ patient for rest : While my whole would most surely conduce that rest yet more ghitefiil to make, As I prove by the general use we're disposed of its com- {The Answtfi will bdfouhd on page 176,) '3° . Found Afloat. FOUND AFLOAT. BY THE AUTHOR OF 'THE LITTLE CAPTAIN,' • MISS MATTY,' ETC. KTf. CHAPTER III. ^NDER" Mr. Dartmor's eye, Alf Jetsam made great progress with his studies ; but under the direction and with the assistance of that gentleman's sonj he ^ made even more rapid strides in the pursuit after know- ledge— kno\y ledge too of quite a diflFe- rent character, and of a kinde that was scarcely likely to please their friends. At an early age, Frank had shown a decided preference for the sea— or rather, it should be said, for the position of an officer in the Royal Navy, with its dashing and romantic associa- tions. Mrs. Dartmor, though she had at first set her face stoutly against it, had in the end been forced to give her consent, upon the condition that Frank should quietly wait, till what she considered a suitable ship could be procured for him, through the interests of some powerful friends. ^ Frank would much rather have gone straight off at once ; he hated the delay that caused him to be tied asw It were to these disagreeable lessons in the study; but there was no help for it, and to get through the time as easily as possible, he and Alf would take long walks about the coast, and there talk over their future plans, or make scrambling excursions over the rocks in search of birds' nests. Alf was as determined as Frank to become a sailor • but he kept the idea a strict secret from old G^skin a nd his w ife, fo r l ie h ad^an^stinctive fe el ing t hat h is ~ 'grandfather,' though himself loving the sea, would be i MATTY,' if Jetsam is studies ; and with ntleman's )re rapid ;er know- te a diffe- that was ;nds. At 1 decided it should the Royal : associa- t set her ■d to give Id quietly could be powerful raight off •e tied asw idy; but 2 time as Iks about or make of birds' I sailor; skin at his ^ ould be i( .•^'i' ©f^.' s^ his boy Found Afloat. ' . j^. was ^ed h,J^^^T"«^^' as a profession. The truth S But hi .^^K ^''^' '° ^^^ ^^"^ ^^« adopted tw AifT. t, '^ ^^"^^ ^^^ame open at last to the fact that^AIf had some secret thoughts about the sea. He could not fail to observe how his eyes glowed when ^'rfnTth^e'^^'^'lf"^^ ^°y^^^ - sSg adtn means or ^W K^""?" ^^^^^ *° ^^ ^^^^^ ^^t' ^ so«^e S^e hLn S ^ ^'' fine projects might be knocked on ^ J?f ; "^ 5°"""^.^^^ determined that Alf should hear matter for'^ffin h ^ ^' ^\^ ^°^ ^^"^ °^^^-«° drfficul matter, for it had become ahnost a necessity of Ned's life to spm jarns-he should hear nothing but tSes of haxd^ ship ana danger Ned fancied that the boy w^uld be so SnT. ^^^'^}l .^^ ^^ ^« ^as cherisWng any sue? notions, he would give them up entirely. It had nnSe Je opposite effect, however ; for someho; thLfthrnHng stones seemed to touch a congenial chord in AlfX^ an4 he longed to be in the midst of tiioSS venr^eSS which Ned pictured so graphically. ^'^ ^"""^^ lJoUy,^o, could not help seeing that the bovwas re^sf less, and changed from what he usfd to be, an^it^e^ed her honest heart ^eatly. When a child,' Alf haf often been passionate and waywaid, but his temper never lited long where Dollar was concerned,-^few genSrwords of reproof were quite toough to m'ake him penitent But after the scene m the vicarage schoolr(^m, Ae bov"s temper was quite altered ; he wis never pSonate now but he was fretful and restless at home, aS^d out of dcS^s SnaK'conttnrv' ' i'^^^ ff*^^' ^^^' ^^ seTmeitoT unaDle to control himself. No boy x)f his atre in th^ whole village could equal him in feate of darin?or dimb 12"m ""a^^^ ^"^^^* °" *« '^k« in seLSTof^^s^^ vam Ned threatened punishment, and Dolly exSkted^ Alf would not listen, but returned the same aSwer^^vs' ^1^^Z^''''';^^\^' careTb^^^ ^^«rh^ ^"^ oW TCi^te^ sigh^ ¥e would say wii a ~ theSV t\TP'''^°°' 'l^^ ^° ««* ^'^«d some d^ay?what then? I belong to- nobody, so it doesn't matter whJ 134 Found M^Mi, r\ becomes of me. Paupers don't often come to harm, do they V he #ould add, thinking of what Ada Dartmor had said.; Once Dolly had hopes that her, little foundling wQuld turn out a good child. He liked nothing better than to sit ' and listen to the Bible stories she could tell so well, and ^ was always attentive to her instructions. But now it was different j instead of Ustening quietly as before, he would either make an excuse to get away, or fall into one of his fractious humours. She fancied Ned might have helped her, had lie chosen ; but instead, he justified the boy's behaviour. * It was quite natural the lad should hate to be preafched at,' he said, 'mayhap he had plenty of it at the parsonage j but there was no doubt he would attend to the Bible lessofls when he was older. And though he was rather wild and different of late, why, a lad must grow • and, for his own part, he liked hun aU the better fdr not being a milksop.* At last Alf s secret became one no longer. Dolly, who happened one day to be in search of a hen that she sup- posed to be laying away amongst the rocks, came acci- dentally on Alf and Frank Dartmor, seated together in earnest conversation. She was arrested by hearing Frank talkmg in an excited tone of voice, evidently expostulat- ing, with his companion about something of consequence, and she was startled by hearing Frank say, * Now Alf, my boy, you'll take my advice, and wait till I'm made acap- tam, then you shall come into my own ship. It won't do for you to go into a merchantman or low coaster ; think how vexed old Gaskin would be; and indeed, for that matter, I don't believe he'U ever consent to your iroinir to sea at aU.' * / ^ <5 8 « I know that, Frank ; but go to sea I must and shall,' said Alf, drawing in his lips in a determined way. • You see there is no help for it,— I must just nih away. I °?c^ to get aboar d some s h i p bound for India : for ever since that old gentleman came down to make 'inquiries about the wreck, and to have a look at me, I can't get it ) hann, do irtmor had ling wQuld than to sit > well, and now ii was , he would one of his Lve helped the boy's Id hate to ty of it at ild attend though he lust grow; ter for not )olly, who t she sup- ame acci- )gether in ing Frank Kpostulat- sequence, wrAlf, my de acap- won't do er; think , for that 3ur going nd shall/ r. 'You away. I r SaxevQt - inquines n't get it Found Afloat 135 out of my head that my true par^ts are alive, and that I may find them there. At any rate, I should like to be sure Ml do belong to anybody or no.' *Now Alf, I see how it is, you've never got over those hasty words of Ada's. It's nonsense to mind what a girl says ; and I'm sure poor Ada has repented of her folly long ago, so it's sort of mean to keep up hard thoughts against her. Why, as to belonging to anybody, can't you ^ content with your grandfather and grandmother? "^Vorthy people they are, too,' said Frank, loftily, who ^times spoke unconsciously in a tone of voice the very i as his father's. * Now, don't interrupt me,' he con- tinued ; * of course, I am quite aware they are not your real grandparents. I am not just a noodle, Master Jetsam \ but answer me this question : Could they have been kinder to you if they hdd been ?' Before Alf cdhld answer, Dolly stood before the asto- nished boys, her ruddy cheeks a little pale, and her honest eyes dim with tears. * Thank you. Master Frank, for your words,' she said, her voice trembling a little. * We've tried to make him happy, for we loved him ; but now it seems he's going to repay us by running away, as if he could trust us no more.' Alf could not stand the tone of reproach, and, regard- less of the presence of Frank, he flung his arms round his grandmother, as he said, * Granny, it wasn't because I didn't trust you that I was going to run away ; you know It wasn't, now, but jjust because I thought grandad would not let me ; and t thought, too, when it came to the last, perhaps you'd take it to heart so, that I'd never be able to say good-bye, so I fancied it best to slip away.' By this time Alfs tears were falling as fast as Dolly's were, and under these circumstances it was perfecdy im- possible to be angry with him ; but she fancied that now would b6 flie time to change him firom his purpos e; so, sUuking the head that fras still as thtclc with eufliiliFwBen ^ It was laid on her breast that night of the storm, she said, * My boy, ye surely don't want to leave us yet ; you'll 126 Found Afloat. not vex us, AIfy ; but stay with grannk like a Kood child . ^r^l^r' ^"^^ ^^ ^p4^thout^my cti?: At these words Alf shook himself gently free from tte ei'esS.^'S-'^"^^ doj^ing the tea& hl^ SZt Sh c? '^.VSJ^*^^^^ sleeve, he answered, 'Giaimie, I would stay ,f I could ; but I want to firS my moAer mvTj '^^ ^''\^'' ^ I ^' fo' «he come?tam?Tn X« T P' f* 'Pf ^' *° °^^ ' ^d it seems so real, thlt when I w^en and find it all a dream, I am almost^ld ^th sorrow. You tell me I am changed, it IsXt Sat ^^r "^^ f ^'^^''?^ I can't help fretting I ^Tto be good, a^d forget it, but I canft sLetimeVfor alitSe I soLd of tife 1^ ^^^ ^'' ^°°» ^« «h<>^«'- then the A^i i;« K ^^T- '^°'^' "'y sad thoughts ; but yet I Annot be happy domg nothing to find m^ parents.* x>rl^r T^n So^ V """"^ ^'""''y^ for'^f had seldom hLl r?m?^^ w * ^'? ?"«''' ' ^"^ ^hen the genUeman a^eT«non?ff^' K-^""""' ^^°"' ^"»' »»« had shownno ^Zh^ the subject, apparently being rather pleased than otherwise when, he took his departure. savin/Xt It was e^dent Alf was not the«boy he wal in Sh of 2„^ T^^' 'iJ^^^^i *^^ t^« W in question was ^ omhah sent home from the West Indies to his English^Xns ^"^^ "a^ ^y ^' ^^ P^rf^^tly weU asc^ned that httle Alf was an Eastern child, as th^ shipwrecked vessel was understood to be th, « Ti^s,' frorTS^'^ h J„t? 1-^°°^ ^* ^^^ ^d <^overed her face with min J^ w^^° ???''' ^** t^«J the matter over b^er bellfii^^ n ^^ '^ 'mature frying out and refusing to be satisfied ? IT such were reaUy the case, was it for her mother would think of him, DoUy knew weU ; ^if he J :ood chad, my curlj- B from the from his xramiie, I y mother, tame in real, that most wild that that try to be •a little I ay out in then the mt yet I Its.* d seldom sntleman hown no : pleased ing, that earch of. i orphan elations, ertained (vrecked mton. ice with r in her hts into" Lising to for her, 2 objec- )ictured ^en the I r\ »• Found Afloat. m fen his td if he was supposed to be drowned, how she would recall the looks of her little child, and the soft prattle of his voice, and wish, oh, so earnestly, that she had never parted with him ! Yes, Dolly understood all the parents' feelings, , and her kind heart longed to restore little i^lf to their arms. But could it possibly be supposed that there were really any parents of his now alive ; else, why hid they not made more inquiries after him ? They must have known the ship by which he came, and could surely have traced it out if they were still alive ; at all events, they surely must be people of no consequence, when they made so little stir in the world. However, Dolly came to the con- clusion that, alive or not, she had nothing to do with it ; nor was it for her to consider howAlf was to find tfi^. All that she was required to do was fe give up the boy • willingly, nay, even cheerfully, whatever it should cost her. Such were Dolly's meditations, and when shd un- covered her face, the b,oys were, surprised to firjid her -quite composed, , ^ ' * Alfy, dear, I see how it is now,' she said gently. * It's in Providence that you are to leave us, and He knows where your friends are. Mayhap they have prayed to Him to bring you back to them. I see -bow it is natural for ye to get restless. But^ boy, if yfeu do go out into the world to lopk for your mother, never forget that God is watching you. If you turn from Hiip, He will turn from ybu; but if you keep faithful to the teach- *ing you have got from' oi^ good parson, and never allow yourself to fall into bad habits, then, Alf, I feel -certain you will find them,/if they are still in the land of hope. Now, honey, go, and pray to ;Him to help you, and I will see what can be done with your grandfather.* Little Alf turned at once? and bidding Frank good-bye, he went into the house, and climbed up the trap stair into his little room in the garret, and pondered in his heart these words of Dolly's. He had nev^ himce tf understood why it was he wanted to go to.s«a so much. He had liked the idea of the adventures he would have 13^ Found Afloat. ' new S ^ w ' ^f,^Pr "*' ^ ^"* °°^ ^« «^^ things ip a cSLd^ thf \l'^l almost like one of those woSerful -S^^an^lhn ^i ^^ sa much about to little Madge, and though he was not going to fi/?ht exactly SJ'n.'T^^^^^^J^^*- WhillAlf was sKti h^ bed making all sorts of resolutions to be a good 'lad for ?a:enr;:haei'?f,'^^°'^ "^^ ^? to the'selfcSTaft:' W . parents, whUe at the same time he vowed never to tenet th^e who had fostered him and been Ms Sest ftfend? Dolly TOS engaged down stairs with her husband. S seaman. She had, unfortunate y, chosen a verv bad lim,. for sucb an object, for Ned hid fiUen LS wer^l Sties 4^1„'='^i''™''« her absence, and'L m' „t acuities were m rather a confiised condition; so that St"f>.'°°^;".« 'r?d"«J; then, i what helSsidered fte absurdity of the whole thing dawned upon Wm! he rrenU^"^. W.1}"' *^r f.'T '""«'' »od lad for fi after his r to forget !St friends, ind, trying at veteran bad tihie I over his [lis mental t so that iree times id under- ck in his onsidered I him, he mckle, as idea that search of t port to Dove, of and that ig of her lowledge like our shouted \y there ? msiness.' kitchen, M-ess his anei^ he !ad than rselfout a bit. Wife, give him out his white ducks, and his blue jatket apd new hat. We'll have to go down to the bay to see his godfather, the captain, about this here consam.' It was drawing towards the aftemocm Vhen Ned, fol- lowed closely by Alf, came in sight of the harbour, where the *Dove' lay alongside the jetty. The crew, which consi^ied of a mate, one man, and a boy, were busy along with some paid labourers unloading the cargo, which consisted at that time of gniin and sundries from an Irish port J for although Hurstcliff was but a small harbour, the neighbouring town of Tottenham rendered it of greater importance, and it was constantly occupied by various coasting craft in addition to the native fishing boats. Captain Chunck, whenever he came into a harbour, immediately jput on his long-shore clothes, which con- sisted of a pair of bright but exceedingly wrinkled Wel- lington boots, — ^an oliVe-green swallow-tailed coat, of the glossiest broadcloth, creased with careful preservation, ind very short in the waist, with the cuffs turned well up for their protection,— a black satin waistcoat, that dis- played to advantage his white shirt front, and stiff silk stock; but the consummation of all was a very hard and tight-looking tall hat, that was perched in a jaunty way on the "back of his head. He was sitting on the ledge of the small afterhatch, with his legs hanging down into the hold, and was addressing some most emphatic orders to the men at work, when he was arrested by the sight of Ned and his companion. Ned at once swung himself on board by a rope, and stepped up to where the Captain sat The latter, on seeing his fiiend approach, gave a sort of look of recognition, something between a scowl and a grin, but he did not rise in the least to accost his visitor, nor did Ned expect any such courtesy; indeed, had he treated him with downright rudeness, it is probable Ned would have respected him a ll the more^ 'Good afternoon, Captain,* said Ned, seating himself opposite to Captain Chunck, with his legs down the X40 Pound Afloat. hatch aJso, while Alf sfood deferentially aside at' the nggmg by the gangway. ' IVe- made free fOTto come at was so kind. Cap n, as m a sort o' a way to allow yourself to stand godfathy to him, seeing as hoi ye were Ae^lJ nrn m them parts that could ^ve him a proSrname • and now, IVe gM to ax ye anker favo>^, S. I must' heTd^r rit ir^ "' *°"«"'' ■"- *- *- ow th;Sl,St'^nt&ii?:„r■--■'-X.•answered huf \^^^'} T^ ^'^"'^"^ ^' ^ awk'ard moment, Cap'n • rh \^u'^ *° "^y "^««^«' "Dolly," says I « Catfn excuse an old shipmate for not bein' able to put this nZl ^'"i *^^' ^H"^ I *^" ^4 that it made me ki oneas^nd sort o' queerish belike rpund aU? Ae * Well, if it^s ought as can be setded by fair rieht-down ever, mer Chunck s your man. So go ahead mess mate, without no more hitches/ ThisinSn^S took all in good part, and immediately proceeded to tell him,^as bnefly as possible, the notion his godson £d . Now Captain Chunck was in reality much interested in I^ godson though after an uncouth fShion of Ws o^but neither old Ned nor the boy had Sy suspicion of tile fact, but imagined that it was the reverTi^hS hat Ae master of the «Dove' had rather T^reiuSS towards him. Alf would have been very m^ch ?Zrised had he been told that the Captain occLSnaUy Sht of him when at sea. In those vacant hours 4en he 4d nothing else to do, if the breeze was fair, orZ ChLinel begin to meditate on any subject that troubled his mind. JJje. awful ^^^nsibiHty undertek« by a gSer^^™ a thmg which he more than once rented ofTthT^ J V, ■Jf" Ffmnd Afloat. t4i times ; but his ideas were few, and hie chirelt on them so slowly, as to be often obliged to leave thhm half way in order to carry through his pactical duti^. But dull though he was, he did not fail to notice, when from time to time he paid a visit at the cottage, Alf s eagerness for tales of the sea; and, long before this, he had come to the conclusion that his godson would be a sailor. Ned's mind was fuljl of the notion that Alf would turn out great through his parents ; but Captain Chunck's idea Was tha,!, if he bepsune famous at all, it would be through his own meijts^lor the Captam had a high opinion of Alf s abilities. , '^y one had been lookitig closely into Captain Chunck's face while Ned was speaking, they might have seen a gleam of satisfai^oa pas^ over it; but Ned was so certain that his friend would be of the same way of thinking, namely, that a shore-going life was the most suitable for Alf, that he was not in the least troubled or suspicious. When Ned was done speaking, the Captain turned sud- denly to Alf, and said, * Boy, come here ; what has made you take this here notion ?' Alf blushed, and moved uneasily from one foot to another, but looked up and said, * I want to see foreign countries — and — to be a sailor.' ' But boy,' said Captain Chunck, fixing Alf with his weather eye, * your grandad here tells me you mean to go in search o' yo'ur lawful patents. Where do you Steer for? Where's your port ?' V Alf had to own again that he knew nothing about the port, but that he meant to try India and China; he fancied he must find them somewhere. Captain Chunck said no more, but he rose slowly up, and when he "was safely on his feet, he looked over his shoulder, and said to Ned, in a morose and sombre tone of voice, ' Com# belowa minute, shipmate ; ' adding, as he led down the com- panion-way, * Go for'ard till I call you, youngster.* Sitting -m th e ^ e ry limited ^pace theCa ptain styl e d * thecafaii^^e^ two discussed the matter further over a quiet pipe ; when, with no little difiiculty, and long pauses, Ked discovered M» ^und Afloat s«nd^?^ ?"^** "^ «^^« i' « Ws solemn advice to up to weather eye veiy tight, and looked side^^w; S^°eDL\S"«"'l^' n«u.„er.asT^2^^; mere was entire <:onfidence between them. ^^ J^ed was somewhat bewildered at the way matters w*.r*» turnmg but he could not help seeing ^^l^loTJll fwii 1'^'' •?T *^5^ *^« * motion into tt^ir Sf - =-trc^^n-c£itr^££| .^.a1 ^f *» ^^^ having come to the end of his tobacco, suddenly slapped his hand on his thigh, whkhsSSS ^eCaptam apparently from a stolen snooze «S. hstemng* couldn't you take tfae boy yourself?' ^ with tL r ?^^* °' "^^«^* °°' ^^« been in accordance 'aheady. No, it can't be done r ' ^ ^ "^ ^^' * Not to oblige a messmate, Cap'n, who hebed von oi.t o' many a scrape when jfeu was aVungster?^ «Ld^S^^^ coaxmgly ; and as he saw that his wlrds weS^LvS^ some shght effect upon the Captain's ^y^ heTon^ tinued: * My old missus, she'U be like to^^r 'eves out i^t^^ll. *^ ^^3^' ^'"t she'd weather it out bette? if she knoVd he was with a friend and that frjl/i l^^'^Ca^t'n Peter ChufcTiC-^^ own godfather/ *-^vc, mc It Found Afloat. 143 After a good deal of grumbling about the trouble and responsibility, Captain Chunck at last allowed himself to be persuaded, and Alf wjts called down into the cabin to hear his fate. Ned was perfectly shocked at the boy's behaviour, for he showed no gratitude for the Captain's kmdness, but,fitood pouting his lip and twirling his hat round and round, till Ned, for the first time, almost felt inclined to beat him. 'Can't you say, " thank'ee, Cap'n ?" Are you not ashamed o' yourself, Alf Jetsam, a-standing there a-sa™ nothing? or be you so much obliged that ye can't find words to express your feelin's?' said Ned, as if to cover the boy's want of manners. Alf lancied a berth aboard the * Dove' a very common- place idea indeed, and not at all what he had bargained for. Bkt at this point the Captain came to Ned's assistance, and for a moment was almost eloquent, as, in rather a rough manner, heboid Alf that if what he wanted was to be a seaman worth his salt, and, what was more, a navi- gator to foreign parts, he ought to begin at the right end. * There was no school going like the British coasting trade.' Here he stopped short and firowned most savagely, as if firom notknowing how to finish the argument he had embarked upon ; only adding, that *if his godson liked to try it with him, he would be under the eye of a fiiend ^ho would teach him a wrinkle or two.' Old Ned here chuned in with eagerness to enforce this reasoning, thus putting himself in the somewhat false position of an advocate for Alf s own chosen profession. Alf, being a sl^wd boy of his years, thereupon yielded to the proposal, which on the whole was favourable to his views, and the interview ended. At parting, Ned saidj * You'll see that the boy is well grounded as a seaman, Cap'n ;' and he added, with a knowing wink, when Alf was out of sight, 'Give it him strong, Chunck. In course you'll not overdo it, for the lad's bones be not grown yet but just such ^ taste as toroake him s ick of the sga fp^ (TV be continued,) m S^iic F r- 'W »44 fVtfe mUies SUep. WEE WILLIE'S SLEEP. \ WniRE a' his lane wee Willie sleeps, The ivy o'er his pillow creeps : His curtain is thie beechen spray, Atween its chinks the night beams stray. The stars that wander up the skies, They only ken where Willie lies. When morning fires the forest dim, The robin choirs wee Willie's hymn : The mavis, when she seeks her nest, At eve for Willie sings her best. At noon the croodlin cushat's plain. Where we? wee Willie sleeps his lane. The violet offers incense there. Her sapphire brow wi* dew-draps fair: The gossaniere has twined a thread For viewless hands o'er Willie's head • And angels fauld their pinions twain, Where wee wee Willie sleeps his lane I X' ■ :,y 'M ray. Sketches in India. SKETCHES IN INDIA. 145 ' In the WhU How 01 Far a Where To me HOMEWARD BOUND. esW dark Hindostan, jvom I roam, •in my own native land, Uions of home ! ive in each river and rill, ^ fairest that flows ; Where the bi'eath of the blast on 'the brown heather hill ^Is the sw<}etest, the freshest, that blows I WhUe listless and lonely I pant for the breeze. In the feverish fens of Bengal, WJiile drooping and damp are the leaves on the trees r\u u "*"ff o er yon moss-covered wall : Oh, what would I give just to breathe once again Ihe blast^ it blows over Yair ! To quaff as they glide down the dear native glen, 1 weed s waters, so cool and so fair! ' HESE lines, written by one who had been loiig an exile, well express th^ feelings wi|^^ich the thought of *hotne—5wmmom' fills many a heart in liidia ; therefore those of my readers who have accompanied my^ps in that far land will, no doubt, wish mr to lead them home again, and will have pleasure in joining me as I take my place on board the steamei^ which IS f)uffing and blowing in the beautiful ««*: , j**^^y' of Bombay, ready to convey us to our native laixd We go by the overland. route; but you must not think tiut we shall go over much land on our y for it IS all a sea voyage, except during one day, ff n*^ ?^^? °^^'' ^^f ^^" ^ of Egypt. ^' Tcrih,;3cwhaarei)lestwith H^py'h^^^^ the^^tuST to them IS often the pleasantest part of going abroad; ♦ , r46 Sketches in India. ! _iL and this was the feeling of some of my fellow-passengers ; but with others it was very different. There were in the ship sick persons who had los61heir health, and mourners who had lost dear friends in India; there were wives parting from husbands, and children from parents j and many tears were shed at the last look of Bombay. A dear little girl, whom I shall call Annie, sat lonely and sad on the deck in her new black frock. She had just lost her mother, and had parted from her father. She came to my cabin, and we had many interesting talks together. She told me all her sorrow, and said, ' I shall never, never forget my own dear mamma !"• When Sun- day came, she brought me her Bible and prayer-book, and said, * I will learn the gospel of the day for you, as I used to do for my mamma;' and she learned and re- peated it beautifully to me. * We were in a very large steamer, containing a great number of passengers, and a much greater number of sailors, both white and black. On the Sundays there was a very nice service on deck, or in the great saloon. There was no minister on board, but the captain acted as clergy- man, and read prayers ; and besides the passengers, there were all the officers of the ship and all the English sailors present,^ looking very nice in their clean, white, Sunday clothes,* and joining in the service very attentively. We were a week in going from Bombay to Aden, and another weelf from Aden tq Suez. If you will take the map, you will easily be able to trace the voyage. It was very plea- sant saiUog over the bright blue ^unny sea, watching the glorious colours of the sunrise or sunset, or enjo)dng the cool night breeze and the brilliant moonlight ; but after we had passed Aden, and got into the Red Sea, the heat became frightful, — much worfee than India. Aden is a curious place, in the §outhem comer of t Arabia, which belongs to fcgland, 4nd is one of the ^ plains where the steamer stops to Jake in coals. It is^ surrounded by the barest, wildest rocks I ever saw, and neither grass nor trees are to be seen there. A number o Sketches in India, ,^J of natives came out iii canoes from the shore, and called to us, begging us to throw sixpences^to the seafor them. Some of the gentlemen did M^ it wi ve^ amusing to see how they immediatelyji^d ov^??oI?7 S ^' i- T® ®^ *^"^ came on board selling ostrich feathers ostnch eggs, and sea shells. They wore sSv any clothes, but seemed very particular SdSssS their hair according to their notions of fS a^ek gance, whch consisted in plastering it o^r^^aidnd itfi^^nf '?i.'"l^^ '' '^^^^^ then sticking iT^l out i^ ^ed So'n,^: horns 1 Ware from- Africa, Ld ar^ Ar!™if IV ° *,^"?"s passion with his son, and it was SS^ '^ ^^1^°^ ^^^^ h« looked, and ho; erne ly he of hi «Hr°' l^^^' ^.^^^ «° g^d^ had not bought ^any of his shells But, after all, he was only a poor fmo^t oJ?£'®'/S°l^°^"^ ^ome hours at Aden, we oassed the Strarts of ^b el Mandeb, and entered tiie kid Se?, which I need not tell you, is no redder tiian any otheTSa! -^indeed, I thought it particularly blue. Sometimes^^ saw tne town of Mocha very well and hPvftn/,-f fU countr, seemed full of highll" &' ' u ^id a wLu .T^*^' '°- ?* P"'"^*^ °f Sinai, and sailed a whole Sunday in sight of the grand mountains wcky, «ith_the golden mushing and the Islue ^iw. X" *«' lonely heights; and the thoughfof the^^ host of the chUdren of Israel sojoumin| amon« ft^ fJR.. f- 148 Sketches in India. M I- I ^ «rhere there was no food and no water to be had, made us see plainly that they could never have lived there, if God had not sent them manna, and opened the rock, so- that the waters gushed out. , ^ i» t> ^ c Then, as our ship came near the head of the icea &ea, we saw the place where God led His own people through its waters, and where the host of Pharaoh with aU their chariots and horses followed in theu: pnde, and were overwhelmed : • Thou didst blow with Thy wind, The sea covered them : They sank as lead in the mighty waters. * Who is like unto Thee, O Lord, among the gods I Who is like Thee ? Glorious in holiness, fearM in praises, Doing wonders.' Much would I have liked to have seen something of the ancient land of Egypt^io famous for its ancient monuments, and still more famous in Bible history; but it could not be. When we arrived at Suez, we were told tiiat the other steamer was already waiting for us at Alexandria/; so we were immediately put mto the train about the fniddle of the night, and were humed through in the darkness, seeing nothing of the desert, nothing of picturesque Cairo, and arriving at Alexandria about noon next day, when we discovered that, after aU, we were not to sail till next morning, and need not have been so hurried I However, we were glad to se^ a httle of Alex- andria ; and I enjoyed driving through this town, which seems a curious mbcture of eastern and western, ancient and modem life. Its bazaars are as quaint and oriental as if they had been Ufted out of the times of the Arabian Nights, while its newer streets are full of Frenchified shops, and ladies dressed in Paris fashions. We went to see Pompe/s Pillar, a fine taU column, nearly a hundred feet high. It was first climbed by a party of merry Eng- 4i^ ,r ■ >5o The Little Ballad-Singer. ! !l It Perhaps she hoped the hearts of men migljt be fuller of generous impulse on this New Year's eve ; but if so, the coming storm had chilled them back to selfishness, for little heed was taken of her; no lingering crowd gathered as usual to hsten to her song, and the feeble voice warbled its last stanza in a deserted square. All day she had roamed the streets, chanting her stock of ballads, but never earned a penny. Cold, destitute, and hungry, she crept along, until she came to a large house looking grander than its neighbours, with its handsome portico over the door, and broad spreading steps. Lights streamed fi-om the windows, and merry laughter sounded, telliAg of a bright, genial scene within. She thought, surely there was plentitude herd, she rhight venture to ask an alms ; so, stepping softly up, she ta|>ped at the glass door, from which she could view all the brightness of ..luxuriance and wealth. She saw the hall decked with evergreens and lamps; servants bustling fi:om room to ro6m ; aiid at that moment the lady of the house descend- ing the spacious staircase, ready to receive her guests. *»• Poor little Jeannie's eyes glistened when she beheld the gorgeous velvet dress, with its sweeping train, and all the glitter of precious jewellery ; and she thought that one so rich must surely be good, and ready to help, so ventured ^ to give a second tap, whereon the lady started, uttered a \ little shriek, and ordered the footman to send away * that litde horrid beggar child.' *Only a penny, my lady, only a penny,' pleaded Jeannie. * I have had no food all day, am cold and faint Only a penny.' But the indignant lady drew her robe aside, lest any contamination might fall from closer con- ta.ct ; and Jeannie, not waiting to be thrust away, turned with brimming eyes, and hastily desfcended the steps. Carriages now came dashing up, and she held out hpr (hand as each gail^-attired visitor descended; but all turned asi de disdainfully or heedlessly &om jier, and entered the house of gaiety and pleasure. Wearied and wretched, she sat down on the end of the lowest step. % • niglxt be fuller ve ; but if so, to selfishness, igering crowd md the feeble I square. All : her stock of destitute, and a large house its handsome steps. Lights ;hter sounded, She thought, ht venture to ed at the glass brightness of decked with from room to ouse descend- her guests. *♦• he beheld the n, and all the it that one so ), so ventured ted, uttered a id away * that iny,' pleaded old and faint rew her robe m closer con- away, turned the steps, held out hpr led; but all ca h e r, and Wearied and lowest step. The Little Battad-Sif^er, ^ k iw Hes the thickest, then is the time v we see most of him and his orange red breast ; and it ir ^ on leafless branches that r^bin siqgs ]»is sweetest <^itty teaching us the lesson, that we too, should sing sonta of praise, not only when all is bright around us, but Wkn ^S^\^^ ^^. ^y^^' ^^ ^"° ^ ceased to shine, and the cio^os are thick around us. So scatter the crumbs freely and let robin gef a good Christmas dinner as a reward \ und at their j'S ^trjjring to his vffilends ^ery Mgety, determined jse of their . It proved :d, and find- he bed, and s canae into id was asto- :ing up saw aught sight round and ; out to the ard, for one in under a IS their pet IS laid in it ere placing was heard, them, tlieii )rOceedings : dead bird. ; but alas ! robin fell a was a few treat us as comes; not is the time V ; and it ii^ etest ^itty, ig sonb of I, but islen ie,andL the ^ mbs fireely, 5" a reward - Idols of tJu Heart, . ,-- for his faithfulness; and when summer day^ c^me aeain fh.*i?P'/^''^^^.^"°^ «°°^« ^f Ws littkolS to^^sh the kind fhends who fed him in the cold wintl months when the snow lay white around. montns, * Little children are vou singing Robin-like your lays ? Through the tangled hedgerows winging. Arrow flights of praise. ^ Carol on I and wake the morning -- With your notes of joy, ^ Take the robin redbreast's war&ing, ™ Praise be your employ.' y M. H. , IDOLS OF THE HEART. "^AN ADDRESS. .j^ BY tAe rev. GEORGE COOK, BATHGATE. % ^ AHA Apostle John, who is in Holy Scripture called the (lisciple whoift Jesus loved,' has wntten, we believe, for the warning of God's dear children in aU time, the words, * Little children, keep yourselves from idols.' It may not be easy to decide whether these w^mm. words were really intended for the young of Christ^^S ^^TT"^"" ^^^- ^^^^ '^^«^*^y 'nade disciples. They are fuU of instruction to aU, especially to the young who are entenng on the temptations and trials of th^^cKari '^rW^ *^?^s ; for St. John addressed them to those of oMtT'' ""/f T '' *^°^ ^« ^^^^ thatiie Son wt^ Wil^^ V'^i^*^ ^''^'' ^ ^ understanding that knnSl- """^-""^i^^' '^ ^^^'^ *°*J ^e are in '-or, by Knowing, are jo ined to * Him thaf in t« .^ • Vx^ S<»,Jes»s ChriW. This is the true G^' a^id S^ IP ' ' ■*i.: Idols of the Heati. f-» if :^- '■^^ •fl ^^^ ^^LSs^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^> ^^0 ^a* ^ven "s this ka|p|i|P|f mnsel^ and of Jesus Christ— of fetemal Iffe. ^One pi^t hop6 that, having such precious knowledge to guide them, God's dear childre» would not be in danger of going astray. Experience, however, teaches us otherwise ; and that it is^well still to address these solemn words to those— to the young espebially— who have received the knowledge of saving truth : * Little children, keep yourselves from idols.' ' > ,\ We propose,' therefore, to consider what the idols ^e, against which the holy apostle so lovingly warns God's children, in order to find out the danger they may incur of going aftftr, or giving themselve|k to, idols— foraaking the true God, and so casting awa^^emal life. %' *What aire idols?' Generally, they are desciibJ representations of human beings, of animals, ot fig«.„ intended to illustrate the fruitfulness and bounty of natur^ before which, as symbols of the Great God and Ruler " nature,,mien bow down and worship. ':;i " y^te^^ John mpte the warning we are considering, the most enl^htened jiations of the wdrid were idolaters. ,Aw Pad grieved o*erthe great city of Athens, *whoUy 'giv.en to idolatry,' perhaps the ifiost intelligent of the people looked on the beautiiful forms, before which they ^^shipped,^ly as rei^entations of the gods in whom 4^ey believe(5-4s the Roinan Catholks npw offer prayers , ' before imagesmj^fctur^s of ^r blessed Savioiit. But, doubtless- th^j^alss of the pe«#e worshipped these images Mfcods. .. / In tlMpam the Jews alone, of all nations, worshipped i the truepod,lhd abhorred idols. Manyef the Jews had become Christians, and also, multitudes of heathen idolaters had turned from idols to serve the living God. Still, St John knew that they might be drawn away to follow idols, and therefore he wrote, both to Jewish and Gentile Christians, * Little chi ldren, keep yourselves from idols.* We raay^onchide7 thehT" that there were other idols besides graven images and RSK.i :'^ *-»f haA ^ven s Christ— of iich precious ldre»^ would :e, htfwever^ tto address espefcially — •uth : * Little le idols M-e, vams God's y may incur forsaking lesci;;jbl ;, ol" fi£ ty of natur| id Ruler' ;onsidering, re idolaters. :ns, 'wholly ;ent of the which they ds in whom fFer prayers ioiir. But, )ped these wrorshipped , and also, 3m idols to they might he wrote, g children, IdoTtoftfu Heart, 157 ude, then, nages and marble statues, to the worship of which God's children might be drawn away in those times. We shall consider this further, by-and-bye. In our times, the most polished and enlightened nations have abandoned the worship of images, and representations fof God, and profess to wor- ship Him«,' who is a Spirit, in spirit and in truth.* We hale ours^ves, however, lived for many years in countnes where almost all the people worship represen- tations of human beings,, beasts, and reptiles, often of the %. most hideous and grotesque appearance, and even mere stocks and stones, distinguished by nothing more than a daub of bnght red paint We haye often seen in lonely jungles, by the wayside, or in humble villages, a little shed, in which' was set up a hideous clay or stone image, or a mere block of rough rock, daubed with vehnilion, * and hung with garlands of flowers, and the poor people, as they passed^l bowed down reverently before the idol. %We have entered lofty and gorgeous temples, or great and solemn caves dug out of the rock, where long rows of ncWy carved pillars led to the shrines of huge, unnatural, or.sometimes very grand and beautiful images, cut also from the living rock, before which the ignorant natives of those countries offered gifts, and worshipped. In our enlightened country, such things are unkn^. or read of with woAder and pity. * f jt -^^ Yet I have no doubtf that the hoiy apiMHrwords are intended for us also: * Little children, fiep yourselves from idols.' There must, therefore, be some other kind of idols to which we are in danger of giving ourselves, or of worshipping and serving. Let us consider what are the idols against which St. John still warns us, lest we forsake the true God and eternal hfe, for their service and worship. That, whatever It be, is an idol to us, which holds the first place in our hearts alid affections— which we think more about, and j oye bet ter, than 'theteie God and e tcm aHi f e/ W hatr-- '"*'-'■* said our blessed Lord ? * Take heed and beware of cove- tousness,' and, * Ye cannot serve God and mammon^ St ff ^ i<8 Idols of the Heart. Paul explains what Jesus meant iifi^these words, when he wrote as follows : ' Mortify therefore (or destroy in you) covetousness, which is idolatry ;' and he calls a covetous man, or one who loves money, *an idolater,' or wor- -^hipper of idols. Thus, the^ children, or grown men and womfen, who kre only occupied with their dress and their pleasures and amusements, may truly be said to worship idols. " M^y who are what is termed selfish, make idols of themselves,- and to worship oneself is the worst kind of Idolatry, because it draws us farthest from, and makes us most unlike, the Son of God, our blessed Saviour whom all God's ttue and dear children must be like and' must walk in love, even as He also loved us, and gave Himself for us.' Thus St. Paul writes to us : • Let every one -of tis please his neighbour for his good to edification • for even Christ, who was equal with God, pleased not Himself And we read that He said to God, His Father Lo I come : I delight to do Thy will, O my God.' We ou^ht to give ourselves to Him, as * He gave Himself for us, because He suffered for us, leaving us an example that we should follow His steps.' He taught us that anything dear and precious to us, even as a right eye or hand, if it drew our hearts away from God, must be cast from us • because it is better that, through suffering, self-denial' and loss of what we once held very dear and precious we should enter into heaven, than that we should please oureelves, and cling to such a thing, *and be cast into hell fire. * Little children,' remember your heavenly Father's first commandment: *Thou shalt have no oAer gods before Mc^AU thmgs that take our hearts from God, are idols, -^^e-torjs goife which we love before, oTMSf^THiS, ttnn. These idols are to be found everywhere, and are »^ ds, when he txoy in you) s a covetous er/ or wor- many serve ; nament our ;m. In like n, or grown 1 their dress lily be said ike idols of worst kind and makes ed Saviour, 36 like, and' s, and gave * Let every edification ; )leased not His Father, God.' We Himself for cample that It anything hand, if it t from us; self-denial, i precious, mid please e cast into ithefs first ods before , are idoh^ aore e, and are Winter Flowers. ,cp J^^^ children,' new to life and its snar«s, vou mav Amk there are no idols near?you, tempting yo^-a^av fnZ/^^i/^l*^^"^' ^^^' mostWu^esVur >^^^^ ignoiantly worship, are near you every day.' See that ie'L 'Zr rf ' K^^^ *f^P^^« '^ y^"' h'earts- ' F. ye are -or ought to be—' the temples of the living God ' Pray to your heavenly Father, ' that Christ mav Xell t your hearts by faith / and lis'ten devo!Sy a^d^erious y to these words, as if the holy apostle had actually S &rh,^^"' 'I '° *^°^" ^^^"^ h« knew and Cd • Little children, keep ypurs^lves from idols.' •N WINTER FLOWER& ' Wh!^ ?""^ T'^!'^ *^^ flowers to paint the laughine soil Wh^ summer s balmy showers r^resh the mowef'sjfil In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns its Maker gooT^ . Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky— ^aU man alone, unthankful, hislittle praise Jen/? Se. M^t J'm.fr^^'/*' '^^r^' the'^seasons cease to be ; lUee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, honour Thee !' —Bishop Heber. ., dear ipnter !— cold-handed, warm- wmter .'—the season of happy home- rO%f^ ^^' ^?^ ^"S:ht Christmas festivities: the^eason when the busy toU of the year is Sabbath rest."''"'' °*'^' ''P°'^'' ^ '^ ^^'^' ^ ^^ Spring comes to us decked in her robe of emerald ^een^th a coropet of pale delicate buds ; and «r of brighter hues; whilst autumn is dad in sober russet ■A*.-" tx \ 160 Winter Flowers. 4»' ii'^ brown, bearing a sheaf of golden wheat, apd garland of yellow blossoms. But winter arrays herself in a snowy vestment, and crown of silver frostwork, ^at glistens like a diadem of brilliant crystals in the fefeble December sun- light. The pofet has drawn us rather a dismal picture of winter, when he sa^s — , * * Winter giveth the fields, and tht trees so old, • Their beards of icicl^ and snow ; » And the rain it raineth so fast and cold, We must cower over the embers low, And, snugly housed from the wind and weather, m Mope like-birds that are chaAging feather.' , But I am not disposed we should * mope like birds';' for there is many a bright Ais^ in winter to tempt us out for a country walk, and many a brighit leaf and berry to bis gathered to deck our homes in honour of that Christmas time — ' *'*^ • That to the cottage as the crown^ !' • H . Brought tidings of salvation down.'* . Though the green hills lie shrouded in snow, once leafy branches are mostly naked boughs, thou • Young sprihghath fled with her e£^rly flowers, And summer sleeps in her shady bowers, And autumn hath yielded her golden store, |. And the sheaf lies spread on the gariier floor ; Thoygh no wild, bird's lay is heard among The echoing wood, — all mute in sobg ; ' 1 - ■ .Ml, * ,yet there is much beauty in the winter's ram|)le, even in the * unsightly, monstroi*8' fungi,' that, arrayed in their bright shades of orange jand red, a^om the twigs of the wild rose bushes, or spring on the moist graves of tl^ withered suumier blossoms. The hedges gleam in all the ijichness^ olSnany a trailing stem of crimson-leaved » bramble, creeping amongs^Jj^the bare branches of the thorn, or lost in .the luxun^nt. patches of glossy ever- green leaves of various shrubs. a|l decked in their berries and fruits of white, scarlet ahd black; and on all s pron 'I %% t^ But lingi ^y a; garland of n a snowy [listens like ember sun- I picture of 'I ■ ither, „ birds';' for t us out for f berry to be — Christmas Wifiter F/mvers. i6i )r ; le, even in ;d in their rigs of the vfes of thfe ;am in all ison-leaved les of the lossy ever- leir berries Ic; and on all sides, .in' every dry, bare twig, we m^ discover the promise that-?rr , . * Nature, in sprihg's best charms, Shall- rise revived from winter's grave, Expand the bursting bud again, And bid the flower rebioom.' «k- Common VLOhiM—IkxJ^qm^likm. ■/■ I f ^'^l But the flowers are'nottfii dead; we may yet discoVef ^ a hngenng autumn knajJweed, or a starry Com inariffold t? =r^=n ^W\ Ai. i6a Winter Flowers. oi an cariy dandelion; and gather a whole handful of the beauteous Christmas rose, its white blossoms gleam- ing from amongst the rich green leaves ; and in spite of chilling blasts and nipping frosts— r-^ * There is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, . ,,And weathers every sky — the little timid daisy, which raises its fair glad face to heaven from many a sheltered nook. Then — * Fringing the fence on sandy wold, j With blaze of vegetable gold. The furze — but, ah, beware the thorn, . Too oft 'mid brightest blossoms bom \i— The furze still yields its fragrant bloom.' The furze or whin is in fullest bloom during May, when its odour is sweetest, but lingers qn through all the autumn months, and brightens many a dreary hill-side at Christmas. Though so comrfion a plant with us, it is esteemed a j^recious ornament in the foreign greenhouse. It is said that when Linnaeus, the great Swedish botanist, first beheld it spreading a robe of gold over one of our hill-sides, he fell on his knees and thanked God for its beauty. And, in speaking of Linnaeus, I am reminded of what my little friends may be interested to hear — that he once proposed the use of a floral clock, which had to be com^ posed pf plants that opened and closed their blossoms at particular hours ; and the dandelion, which we have just gathered, was selected as one, on account of its petals opening at six in the morning ; the lily unfolds at five,, the hawkweed at seven, the succory at eight, the celandine at nine, and so on ; the closing of the blossorijs were to inark the afternoon and evening housg. This they are found to do, the same if placed in a dark roop as when in the open daylight and air. We must not look for many flowers in December, but be content to gather from the evergreens the berries handful of )ms gleam - in spite of ad face to May, when ^h all the ry hill-side ith us, it is reenhouse. h botanist, one of our Grod for its :d of whaJ- at he once to be com- r blossoms h we have mnt of its ily unfolds ; eight, the 2 blossorijs uss. This dark roop ;mber, but he berries -■ 'V " tion by the Druids~a parasite which we are likelv ?n find growing on some apple-tree. ^ **^ Here we have • The clustered berries bright Amid the holly's gay green leaves,* The box-tree is also a hard wood, a yellowish fo«m ;„ colour, very valuable, and sold J)v w«iahf ^. ' J" mto flutes, chess-men, homtflJJt^,^ and T^ r great service to the wood-engrr^fer ' ' ^""^ '' °^ 'Feeding upon their pleasures bounteously* ' - * OMalsely they accuse me Who say I seek to check -f v .♦?. 164 * Winter Flowers. * The dead or dying branches, With all my living leaves. 'Tis f9r the old and wither'd tree ■ •The ivy garland "weaves.' By January the little chickweeds will begin to peep above the ground, and the much-despised dandelion be ^ore numerous. Very bright and beautiful is its golden flower, and deeply notched leaf, from which the name is taken^da^elion, being a corruption of dent-de-lion, or lion-toothed. Its root is used as a medicine, and its leaves sold in 'France for salad. Who does not kngw its downy seed-ball, that appears after the flower has passed away, iand which as children we have blown to ascertain the time of day? .. * The dandelion with globe of down, 1 The schoolboy's crock in every town, , Which the truant puffs amain, « To conjure lost nours back again.' Then, too, we may look for the bright yellow blossoms of- * The aconite that decks with gold Its merry litfflie face ; ' and Uiat * little harbinger of spring,' the delicate and beauteous snowdropj or snow-piercef, as the French call it ' ■' • By February many a gay blossom 0f the yellow colts- foot decks the wayside, its broad, handsome green leaf not appearing until the flower has passed away. -Country people infuse the flowers as a remedy for coughs, apd convert the cottony down, found on the under surface of the leaves, into tinder; theV stlso use th^feathet of the seeds for stuffing mattresses, and , smokqf the leayes instead of tobacco. By the streamlet's cdg^ the jnajsh-marigold blossoms, and a veiy brilliant appe^urance io its sturdy stdrnsj large leaves, and radiant yellow blosscfcis mak^ ; whilst in the woodlands; peeping above the wi&ered leayes, and half hid( Wa I red sun wh( it i ven but our wh( ( mei ma; suti >:t£jL.'„*:-4al ..ji^,i»- ■ ^^'^^i:^. jfe. -^■^- to peep klion be ts golden ; name is ie-lion^ or ,.and its kngw its as passed ascertain icate and ; French low colts- ;reen le?if •Country Lighs, and ;r sutface [eather of he leaves blossoms, dnsi large 1st in the , and half blossoms « Winter Fhwen. Xh. «65 hidden by its own green foliage, a bunch of beautiful ftlue or white violets may be gathered. ^ How truly Sir Walter Scott wrote — ° * j^he violet in her greenwood bower, •^ Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle, May boast herself the fairest flower In glen, or copse, or forest dingle.' ■* , \ In FebnTary, top, the reddish purole blossoms^ of the red dead nettle appear, and blc^pi often the whole summer. Its leaves are a dull, pmplish green, and its whole appearance is similar to the stinging nettles ; but it is termed dead^ ox hlind^ because it possesses no venomous power. Then also we may ^ ¥•' 'See the little gold£(i|ch pluck he groupasersfeather'd segds.* The groupc We must not, however, linger longer over the flowery but hasten onward with our mass of evergreens, to deck our homes for the bright Christmas so near at hand, when we may chant that beautify hymn — * Harl^ the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-bom King ; . ■* Peace on earth, and mercy mild, Christ and sinners reconciled.' ^ Good-bye, my 'dear little friends. A happy— a right merry Christmas to you all^and, in the coming year, may you, like the old monk's 5un-dial, nun^fcer none but sunny hours. ' ^ ^ L.P. ■if "^'■ M-^ , ,." * ^ ■' ♦ • ' " „ ' 1 « ■ • ' . \ ■ ' .■ r; " * " — < — — gll. 1. j . „ • . .. 1 ^ *■'■■■•„'"• "■i- •/>;%■ "''^•~ %- \..- i66 By the Seaside. \. •BY .THE SEASIDE^' Little ONES ! little 4)n^s ! come with mt Down to the beach, by the sparkling sea. * Look at the waves, how the^;^ curl and roar. Making long ripples along & shore ! ^ Search for the limpet's deserted bells, §tar-fish, and Sea-Wed, and tinted shells; See how the children are all at play, Digging 4^nd-islands along the bay ; ' Building new bridges of old grey stone, Bridges that tujnl^Ie if left alone ; Filling small rivers above the brim ; Watching the tiniest fish that swim ; Hailing the fishermen as they land ; Gleaning the treasures that strew the strand i Ah ! I have got an old Book with me Full of sweet stories about the sea, — TeUing of Jesus," who walked the waves ; Jesus the Shepherd, who lost ones saves. Listen, and over the ocean's swell, Music from heaven shall charm you well. Little ones ! Jesus is watching ypu, Hidden, maybe, for awhile from view,— Looking with more than a mother's lo\ e Down on you all fi-om the skies above ;^ Happy if you can look up and say : ' Jesus, my Saviour,' vfrom day to day. Landudno. > */ - < u Cloudi Teachingi. 167 ^ who had guided^is people by a cloud, had promised to guide ytnitoo.^ "^ * Yes, love ; and I took my difficulty and my perplexity and told it all to Jesus, and asked Him to fulfil His pro- mise, and tea|:h me the way I should go. I Celt sure He would, and so He did. That evening's post brought a letter from a de^ couan, saying she had heard of the illness, and would gladly come and take care of Aunt Jane, thus leaving me quite free to come liere. When you, too, want help and direction, don't you think the clouds will tell you where to seek them?' ' Yes, indeed, Auntie.' ^ * Then a dull dark cloud often seemS^to me like a great and heavy sorrow, it makes everything so gloomy. What -is there that can change the dark cloud into brightness and beauty?' , • The sunshine, Auntiq. How bright^ the clouds were this evening so long as the sun was, ^nining on them l when he went down they gr«g. cold and grey.' • True, dear ; sometimes "1^ sun shining brightly dis- perses the cloud altogethei^ and sometimes it changes it into beauty. So it is with sorrow.- Take it to Jesus, our Sun ; and He will either take it away, as He did for us last autumn when dear papa was so very ill; or, if He sees it to be better for us, He will shinevon it a>nd on us, not takihg away the sorrow, but taking away all that makes it hard to bear, as He ha§ done for poor Willie, the sick boy in the village. You kriow how cheerful and happy he is, yet often has a great deal jbf pain, and can never leave his beji, or play about jwth' bther boys; atfd he is very much alone, foi- his motrot is busy, and Jetmy- inust go to school. He told me the other day he was happier than he could tell, happier a great deal tlian before he was ill, "I know J6sus loves me," he said, *'and has taken away my sins,' ajj^ He Watches over me; and I j, with nothing to disturb me, k]^e beg-utiful home where He irlwre I shall neVer be sick or ''^1%^ - - • delight in lying quie%" thinking of Him, ancl^ has promised to take ^.7 * I think they are, Auntie ; for we are so sinful,— " des- " perately wicked," God says,— and if we want to get the beauty of holiness, and be like Jesus, we must have our Sun shmmg on us, we must keep neat Him, and not let sin hide Him from us; and looking at Him and loving Him, we shall grow bright in His brightness, and beautiful m His beauty.' ' That is indeed, dear child, almost the most precious ' of the precious letesons we have read to-night; may God the Holy Spirit write it in each of our hearts ! Who cai? repeat the little verse, which teaches us that thus we shali become Hke Him, our Saviour?' Katie repeated: * But we all with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even ' the Lord. by the Spirit of Sketches of Swiss Scenery. ^ j y j SKETCHES OFf SWISS SCENERY. BY THE RPV. J^lMpON, PAISLE^ , ^"" FIRST ASCENT OF A SV^ISS MOUNTAIN — THE RIGHI. HOUGH the numerous lakes, rivers, ' mnd valleys of §witzerland are in- teresting and beautiful, yet the mountains are, of course, the most striking and promihent feature of Swiss scenery. They are the sources of those glaciers, or frozen rivers, which flow down their steep and rocky sides, and also the feeders of their large and limpid lakes, and of the deep ' and rapid risers which flow through them. The principal chains of mountains in Switzer- ^ land are the Bernese Alps, running almost east and west, near the centre, and toward the south side of the country ; iind the Central Alps, which are the higher of the two, and which form the boumiary, to a consider- able extent, between Switzerland or France on the north, and Italy on the south.. The word Alp signifies a moun- tain pasture. Vast herds of cattle and flocks of sheep are fed on. all these mountjdns, up to the snow line, which is 8000 feet above the level of the sea on the north side, and pearly 9000 feet on the south. Each of the cattle has a bell suspended on its neck, to announce its whereabouts ; and the effect, produced by the constant jingUng of thou- sands of these bells, was strange yet pleasing. Above th^ snow line, all is naked rock, or pure white snow ; while on the highest sumjnits, nothing but snow ever falls from one century to another, in consequence of the greater rarity and coldness of the atmosphere. ^^ "■■ It, was on Wednesday, the 23d of August last (i86s), that we resolved to make our first attempt to scale one II "i" ^ ■-'%>• ~Tir^ v.:i: .f -. ''^, ■.■ .^ ^ >Q <'^ ^> ^ /^ J ■\- ■ 4 1 Sciences Corporation ^,- ^ ^ k ^^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14*80 (716) 872-4503' '^^"*' ^ i7» Sketches of Swiss Scaiery. of the Swiss mountains. We left Zurich in the morning by rail, arid sailed algsug the beautiful lake of Zug, to the small but picturesque village of Arth, which was to be - the starting-point for our ascent of the Righi. One of our party resolved -to play the pedestrian, another was to be carried up in a chair by four men, and a third, like myself, resolved to take hojse, which, however, was more easily procured than in the case of the luckless hero who was compelled to cry out, * A horse ! a horse ! a kingdom for a horse 1' It was rather a grotesque procession, especially as the horses, raw and bony as they were, though gure-footed, answered well to the description of Don Quixote's celebrated Rosinante. The height of the Righi above tfte level of the sea is about 6000 feet, or upwards of a mile ; and the time required for the ascent is usually from three to four hours. As we moved upwards, in the afternoon, by the narrow and winding bridle-path, the view of the surrounding scenery widened in extent, and increased in beauty and grandeur. The sun continued to shine brightly, so that we hoped to find him * glorious at his setting.' But on reaching a hotel about five o'clock, thick mist and heavy clouds passed over the mountain in rapid and close succession ; the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled and reverberated, and the rain poured down like a deluge. What were we to do? We were still at least 1500 feet lower than the summit ; so that we h^d nearly resolved to remain there for the night. About six o'clock, however, the sky began to clear, and so on we went But before we had gone far, the storm rose again with redoubled fury,^the wind blew a hurricane, and the mist was so dense that we could see but a few yards before us. Suddenly, about se^n o'clock, on looking upward, we got a glimpse of the spacious hotel on the summit, — far ahead and above us, as if it had been in cloudland. It was a welcome sight to weary and drenched travellers, and no effort was spared to urge on ou^ngj^jjtss weary quadrupeds ; and as we had no change i^v^ent, we were glad to betake ourselves to our com- I !i J|. moming ig, to the as to be One of ;r was to bird, like leas more liero who kingdom ocession, ley were, iption of le sea is the time ur hours. JTOW and J scenery frandeur, 'e hoped aching a y clouds :cession ; rberated, were we than the there for began to jone far, ind blew :ould see 1 o'clock, 3US hotel f it had eary and urge on ) change }ur com- X o S u X tb o z s m s h P 'f* Sketches of Swiss Sunery. »7S for6abIe bed-rooms. So all our hopes, of seeing tlie sun set, were dashed to the ground. Still, however, we com- forted ourselves with the hope of a brilliant Sii*ise in the morning. But alas for the vanity of humaftliopes and wishes ! We were roused from our slumbers, soon after four o'clock, by the strange but not unpleasing sound of the long Alpine horn, ringing through all the corridors of xthe hotel ; but on looking out at the window, -all was dense impenetrable mist No sunrise was seen there that morning, to the no small disappointment of the numerous visitors, who were anxiously looking out for a blink. Doubtless their feelings were similar to those of the unfortunate wight, who tfius humorously* recorded his disappointment in Uie album of the hotel — ■ . * Se#en weaty up-hill leagues we sped, .The setting sun to see ; Sullen and grim he went to bed, Sullen and ^m went we. Nine sleepless hours of night we passed. The riHkg sun to see ; Sullen and grim he rose again, Sullep and grim rose we.' As the morning advanced, the clouds began to break. Heavy mists continued to roll up rapidly on one side of the hill, and then to sink down on the other side far beneath our feet ; and now and then, in looking south- ward, we had bright ghmpses of" the Jungfrau and others of the Bernese Alps, — white as snow could make them, and towering up to such a height (13,000 feet) that at first they seemed to be fle^ecy clbuds. The spectacle was grand and magnificent, beyond all previous conception, not to speak of description. Then to the nordi, the . lake of Zug, of which a view is given in the engraving, as seen from the top of the mountain; pearly ten miles long, dwindled into the size of a small pond ; houses were no bigger than bee-hives, and dieir inhabitants were scarcely visible ; while on the other side, 4000 feet down, the lake of Lucerne, a beautiful sheet of water. .^-' 176 Skftches of Swiss Scenery. \ seemed to be right beneath us, as if we could almost drop a stone into it There they lay,, glancing in the morning sun, and reposing in their loveliness like molten silver ; and for miles around, there were mountains upon \mountains, towering in majesty and grandeur, and seem- ing to touch the very heavens. Still, however, we had not, even yet, * the body of heaven in its clearness ;' for it was still partially obscured by driving mists and dense clouds. In such circumstances, it required no effort to think of that * better land,' where no cloud shall ever darken the view, and no sorrow shall ever dim the eye. * Here often from our eager eyes, Clouds hide t^ie light divine ; ' There we shall know as we are known, Our sun will always shine. .^ For when that glorious mom shall break, Shadows shall flee away ; Our present darkness shall give place To ceaseless, perfect day.' ]|n ^^tanding on that loftyheight, the thought naturally occurred : ' Would that we were as far above the world spiritually^ as we then were physically.' What an un- speakable blessing, to be able to look down with indiffer- ence upon all earthly things, and to look up to heaven, with holy expectation, as our everlasting home ! May we all realize, in our experience, that sublime description which is given of thccjiurch, as * a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet !* To be clothed with the Sun of Righteousness, and to have this world under our feet — this would indeed be heaven begun 1 Answers to Christmas Enigmas. I. Dewdrop. 2. Snqwdfop., - 3. Armchair. d almost g in the e molten tins upon nd seem- , we had less ;' for nd dense effort to hall ever he eye. naturally the world t an un- 1 indiffer- 3 heaven, May we ion which J the siun, with the inder our 1- chair. CAPTAIN CHUNCk's CABIN M f Found Afloat. 179 FOUND AFLO^At. BY THE AUTHOR OP 'THE LITTLE CAPTAIN,' 'MISS MATITT,* ETC. ETC. 4*- CHAPTER IV. ITTLE Alf soon found himself quite at home on board the 'Dove;' and though his life there was very diffe- rent from what it had been ashore, he bore it all with a bright face, for he 'was determined to be a S- ^ilor in spite of tvery difficulty. At first Captain Chunck, true to the promise givfeif to his old friend, did his best to sicken him*. The boy had to do the ^abin work^scour dishes, clean lamijfc kush boots, and what was worst of all, f^ad to V try his hand at the cooking departmeilt. Bj^t he did it Jul cheerfully, and as if he quite enjoyed it, so that the worthy Captain g&ve up the notion, relieving his conscience by saying, * that if the lad would be a sailor, why, it weren't his fault, and that his duty clearly was to make a thorough practical seaman of him.' The lad Bilken had been promoted from the performance of tjhese menial duties on Alf s arrival, but poor Bilken was so $low^^(l^tupid, and was constantly making mistakes, th^ captiin had soon to order him back to his old i^n, anH set Alf in his place. Perhaps, after all, it thfe best thing fdi: Bilken : for the mate, a long-backed, iching, under-browed young fellow Jed the poor boy :h a life that Alf wondered howJ#bore it; but the of the matter was, he had no friends ashore, they were all dead, and Captain Chunck, having found him on "le quay at Cardiff, one sharp winter afternoon, shiver- th si w si su & with cold and half-famished, lad taken him at once i8o Found Afloat. on board his vessel, where he fed and clothed him ; and rather than leave his kind benefactor, Bilken would have .borne twice the hardships. The Captain of the * Dove' was a very, different per- sonage on board his own schooner from what he was ashore ; and Alf often wished that Frank Dartmor could have seen him, especially in stormy weather ; for on such occasions the worthy Captain behaved so stoutly, almost grandly, at least in the boy's estimation, and was so un- like his usual old self, that h^ could scarcely be believed to be the same person. In the very worst of the gale, AJf felt safe when he stood close to His godfather, who held the tiller, watching with a keen €f^ and grim lip how his craft behaved herself; he seemed almost to see through the mist, while the sharp littlevessel persevered in weathering the blast, as if she knew whose hand steered her. On one of these stormy nights, when the * Dove' had made several short trips, the man Jack, who belonged to Hurstcliff, and who had taken great pains with ^If, knowing the boy's history, was ♦severely hurt by the lashings of one of the deck casks giving way, in con- sequence of which it rolled against him. He was so much crushed that he had to be taken on shore, and left in the surgeon's hands, and another man shipped in his" place. At this- time they were at the Irish port of Water- ford, taking in a cargo of beef, butt«r, pork, and com, for the Bristol market. There was a great scarcity of sailors, two large vessels having just sailed for Newfoundland, so that Captain Chunck was beginning to fear he would not get a man at all, when one day, Alf having got liberty to go on shore with Bilken, to take a survey of the town, they weie ficcosted by a man who, though his clothes were rather of the ' long shore' order, was unmistakeably a^sailor. *" He informed the two boys that he had been waiting for an opportunity to speak to one of them about their Captain; for, if they corroborated the general .-f-- Im ; and aid have rent per- he was or could on such r, almost IS so un- believed the gale, her, who grim lip St to see ivered in 1 steered ove' had belonged with ^If, : by the in con- ; was so , and left ed in his" 3f Water- corn, for >f sailors, dland, so rould not liberty to he town, s clothes stakeably n waiting about general m Found Afibat. report of him, he intended to ship himself In Jack's place. He was a big rough fellow, much aJDOve the ordinary stature of seamen : his deeply-bronzed face seemed to prove that, he had sailed many a long tropical voyage; but there was a haggard look about him, as if he had just recovered from an illness. Though his appear- ance was not prepossessing, Alf somehow felt for the, man, ^nd took trouble tp answer his questions! It turned out that one of the chief reasons why he wanted to sail in the * Dove' was, he ha^ been told that Captain Chunck allowed no drink on board ; and Alf stoutly and proudly replied that such was truly the case. It w^s 9. well- known fact that, though the Captain could take* his pot of porter or jug of ale with a friend when on shore, yet no spirits ever passed his lips when afloat, nor would he allow anything of the sort to be brought on broad his craft ; if ever he found out that any had been smuggled in, it entailed the instant dismissal of the offender. ' * Then this be the craft for me, younker/ said the man, hoarsely, * leastways till \ come across a temperance ship in Some other port. .Though st)*ne naight call it a down- come to sail in a A^er, I'll take the berth. I've given my word never to'^ail where. \ can get liquor, or with a boozing captaiii ; and whatever it cost me,. I'll keep the promise I've /made to her, poor la§s.' •Why are you so particular?' said Alf; * are you afraid you will be forced to drink against your will ?' * No, boy, no,' he answered in the same hoarse tone. ' I'm not afraid o' the forcing, a man like me doesn't need that ; but I'm trying to keep from drink. I want to get away where I ^ -■:l- # f 1^6 Found Afloat, w(|fd or deed;* *Yes, be trae and/just in all your dealings,' and above all things, * Keep your ton^e from evil-speak- ing, lying, and slandering.' Then making Alf stand up before him, and uncover his head, as if these actions ad^ed more to the solemnity of the lesson. Captain Chtmck would repeat from the catechism his part, trying to appear as if the words were his own, but always break- ing ^down, and having to refer to the book again : * My goo<^ child, know this, that thoii art not able to do these things of thyself, nor to walk in the commandments of God] and to serve Him, without His special grace ; which thou must learn at all times to call for by diligent prayer. Let me hear, therefore, if thou canst say^ the Lord's Prayer * At first Alf was surprised that Bilken was not requested to join\in the lesson, and ventured to ask the reason, when heWas infdrmed that in his case the Captain was not a godfather ; but Alf was not satisfied with this, and innocentlv remarked that Bilken would have to be con- firmed some day too, and how could he manage it if he didn't know^is catechism ? So the Captain having turned the matter oyer during the week, Bilken was ordered to learn the creea and ten commandments ; all of which he did with the Assistance of Alf, who found it rather a difficult matter to fix them on the slippery memory of poor Bilken, whV though very proud to be brought in such a fiiendly way into the immediate presence of his much-loved master, couldn't read at all, and had to learn the lessons like a parrot, in total dependence upon his companion. Many\vears after, Alf used to look back with pleasure, and trace the influence upon his after life of those quiet Sundays on board the 'Dove.' And the Captain, too, felt aN the better for them, recaUing the instructions of his youth, and leading him to think of other and higher lessons\connected with his futuiC'state, ^hen t he boy had passe dVway from his guardianshipiP^ During the week, too, his head to instruct Alf in t1 laptain Chunck took it into le higher branches of his pro- lealings,' al-speak- stand up : actiQns Captain rt, trying ys break- in : * My do these irients of ; ; which t prayer. 2 Lord's equested I reason, ttain was this, and I be con- : it if he ig turned dered to ffhich he rather a ;mory of ought in :e of his to learn ipon his ok back ^er life ;.' And ■lling the think of uCstate, iship^ I it into ' his pro- Found Afloat^ 187 fession. If the weather was fine, atnl his presence not particularly required on deck, the ^o might be seen down in the little cabin ; the bulky form of the Captain seated, with a long pipe in his mouth, on an empty box, which he tilted back under him in a most dexterous manner as far as the limited space would allow, so as to enjoy a little more ease of position, and with' his legs stuck up against his sleeping-berth ; as he gave directions to Alf every now and then, who sat on the stern locker tvith one or two rude charts of the principal coasts on which the * Dove' traded, spread out on the top of a barrel before him, earnestly endeavouring to follow the different tracks. This was by no means an easy matter, for the Captain had interspersed remarks of his own, with notes of sound- ings and local dangers, which perplexed the young learner. But there were :more inmates in the little cabin than tlie Captain and his godson. There was Dick, the starling, an uncommonly clever bird of its species, whq perched himself" on the edge of the barrel, and peered down at the charts, chuckling from time to time, as if he knew all about it, and enjoyed Alf s perplexity. Dick could give orders for the steering of the ship as well as his master, which might have been rather dangerous sometimes if his voice had been stronger, since he was very likely to say * Port your helm ! ' when it ought to have been * Starboard !' And he would strut about the deck squalling out 'Steady!' *Let go!' 'How's her head?' and various other nautical expressions, never forgetting to finish with an express compliment to him- self—' Pretty Dick, pretty Dick y I'm Dick, the Captain's boy — ^hurrah !' The Captain waS passionately fond of animals. He also possessed a hedgehog, that stowed himself away in all sorts of places through the day, and only came out when his mast er smoked^^ i& pipe o f an a f temo <»F. Whether the hei|t|iog Jiked the smell of the tobacco, or it was becaua#in« Captain, had more time to attend -♦ ■i^. « iS8 Found Afloat. to his favourites, cannot be distinctly said ; but * Urchy' was not long of taking up his position under his master's legs, where the pannikin of soaked biscuit and shreds of fat was deposited at that hour. There was a cat also, — a great, large, white animal, called * Snow,' that had to be kept under the Captain's own eye, for Snow was of a very jealous disposition, and would have liked to monopolize all the attention. Snow was gene- rally in disgrace, and was banished to the top * berth' till the Captain's chief favourite, namely, a little mouse, had been fed with some crumbs, placed for her express use in the pocket of his pea-jacket. Though Snow couldn't see it, she was quite aware little Miss Mouse was secreted there, and she peered from time to time over the edge of the bed to watch for it ; but the little mouse was quite safe, for Captain Chunck would rather have had a finger chopped off than allow that little creature to be harmed. Under that bulky and somewhat porpoise -like form, there lay a heart more tender than a child's, in regard to animals. One might have said, indeed, that he felt kinder towards them than he did to the most intimate acquaintance among his- fellow-men. One afternoon the Captain and his godson had gone below to their so-called studies in navigation — the schooner steadily dropping down with the tide to get out of the Bristol Channel on her way to Liverpool — when a circumstance occurred that changed altogether the hitherto quiet life on board the peaceful * Dove.' On their return to Bristol the Captain was to sail for Hurst- cliff, when Alf was to be delivered over to his grand- father. Though Alf liked the * Dove,' and his position on board, he was very eager to begin his search for his parents ; and he was constantly asking Harrison about the East Indies, and taking his advice about getting aboard a good ship bound for one of the eastern ports. But duri ng t he time they were in Bris tol, Harrison waa tT sucfilow gpirits that Tie would scarcely open his lips to any of them ; and it was quite apparent to all, even t * Urchy' inder his iscuit and ere was a i *Snow,' 1 eye, for Duld have was gene- berth' till lOuse, had ^ress use nr couldn't s secreted le edge of was quite d a finger e harmed, ike form, in regard at he felt ; intimate had gone tion — the le to get irerpool — iltogether )ve.' On "or Hurst- is grand- I position :h for his on about It getting sm ports, rison was 1 his all, even ,./■• Found Afloat. 189 to the Captain, who did not generally notice men*s looks, that there was scjmething troubling him. When Alf had tried to enliven him, Harrison's answer had been, * Never mind me, my lad, it'll mayhap pass off; but I'd no notion the fiend had such a hold o' me. It's a blessing I'm- aboard this here craft, and that Ve)ve all had to be so busy unloading and taking cargo, else I fear this pledge o' mind would have had a bad chance.' Alf was sharp enough to understand that he meant he was«Hor- mented with a craving for drink, and he tried to make him forget it, by drawing him on to talk of Nancy, and of the projeet the two had in hand, namely, going together to the East Indies. On this particular afternoon, the Captain and Alf had scarcely gone below, leaving the mate at the tiller, he knowing the coast well, when the latter made signs to Bilken to take his place, cautioning him to be very careful to keep the vessel steady, so as not to bring their master on deck. He then went forward to where Harrison was, who at the moment was looking over the bows, very gloomily indeed, with his hands shading l^is face. The mate was quite aware of the Captain's rules about havifag no drink on board, but he had managed to smuggle in a pretty large quantity while in harbour. He had been drink- ing rather deeply when on shore, and he wanted to indulge himself now witii a littie more ; but he knew it was im- possible to make use of his store without Harrison know- ing, therefore he thought the best plan would be to let him into the secret. He began cautiously to approach the subject, by talking of the Captain's peculiarity, giving it as his opinion that a man was the better of a glass now and then, especially when in low spirits. Harrison here roughly contradicted him. * You're wrong,' he said, * the Skipper's in the right There be few in our line can stick to moderation.' But the mate laughed, and with a ^y wink answered^ iCome nggg,, Idffl^ you'd be the worse of it yourself; and I'll tell you what, if you don't say a word about it aft, I've got a bottle I—'- MMM J ' '■/■■■ i -.■ ■\ ' I ! 190 Found Afloat. ay, and mayhap a little more, to6, stowed away in a snug comer.' ^ Poor Harrison drew a long breath, and he twisted^ the rope he had been coiling in a vehement grasp, as if it had been -a serpent fascinating him, but he resisted a little yet against the temptation. * You're joking, inate,' he said slowly ; * you've been so long with the skipper, that I can't fancy you'd care to displease him.' The mate only answered with another laugh ; and draw- ing a short black bottle from the inside pocket of his pea- coat, he beckoned to Harrison to follow him down into the little h6le of a place that served for a forepeak. The last that Bilken saw of them was, that Harrison lingered for a minute or two, then with a sudden swing let himself down beside his companion. Bilken, as desired, steered very carefully ; but, after some time, when the mate did not make his appearance, he became rather anxious and at a loss what to do, as the tide failed them, and the breeze drew more ahead, and began to freshen, so that he had a difficulty in keeping the schooner to her course. Meanwhile the daylight was fading in the little cabia . below, and Captain Chunck was thinking about going on deck ; but he had first to finish the exercises he was putting Alf through, which on this particular^ occasion referred to the soundings of the river Tyne. Alf had successfully goiie through his lesson, and now made bold oh his own account to ask a question or two upon the proper method of taking a lunar observation. Though a first-rate coasting seaman, the Captain would scarcely have been competent to find his latitude correctly on the main ocean, while the discovery of his longitude would have still more perplexed him. After his godson's ques- tion, he seemed to have some unwonted obstruction in his tobacco pipe, at which he puffed and picked ^awkwardly fo^some minutes. * Ah — hum— well,^a lunar "d'ye say PThafs a different question altogether, I5c^ Why, in course, the way you goes to ^'l^Jfe^is, you— But what's the matter with the tiller tBta©l>^4»»the ir- Found Afloat. 191 vj in a snug I twisted the asp, as if it e resisted a king, mate,' the skipper, 1.' 1 \ and draw- it of his pea- own into the c. The last lingered for \ let himself ired, steered he mate did anxious and em, and the ihen, so that 3 her course. little cabin about going eises he was lar^ occasion le. Alf had now made ar two upon on. Though uld scarcely rectly on the jitude would idson's ques- obstruction and picked ■well, a lunar gethef,l5c^T^ $ this, you — >^«ivthe ir- regular working of the helm, and the peculiar gurgle of the water as it rushed past the rudder, told his experienced ear something was wrong with the steerage. He. hastily sprang to his feet, not altogether sorry of the interruption to this scientific statement. Putting his head\up the skylight, he called out to the mate to tel^him what was the matter, but was surprised to hear instead the voice of Bilken, saying, ' Oh, master, come on deck, there be such doin's down for'ard as never was. I believe that 'ere Harrison must be a-going stark mad ; and 9ie craft, she yaws so much, I can't make her lay to hgr course no- how.* Next minute the Captain and Alf were on deck, when the Captain took the tiller, and ordered them to go forward and ascertain what the mate was doing. They were not half-way along the deck when Harri&on sprang up out of the forescuttle, almost as if he had been shot from a cannon's mouth, and strode up to where the Captain stood mute with surprise, steering his vessel with great difficulty. * Captain Chunck,' said Harrison, whose eyes glared with wild excitement, * you're a good inan, I won't harm you j* but hark ye, your mate gave me drink — let him speak for himself.' Here the figure of the mate appeared, unsteadily reeling from the mingled effects of intoxica|ion and violent usage, that had caused the blood to stream down hisf fece, partly sobering him. 'What is this, Joseph Rogers?' said the Captain sternly; *have you nothing to say ?' The mate sulkily hung his head. * I don't know i£.I can,' he said ; * only when J had no more to give him, he bumped my skull against the hatch, till I thought murder would have been done.' Harrison gave an uncouth laugh, seeming in no way abashed ; nay, his huge form had even assumed a savage grandeur, which showed that at that m omen t he felt himself the master^ and he stamped his_ Toot, lis IT to prove he was resolved to have his own way. * What do you want ?' said Captain Chunck with soqt* IQ2 F0nnd A^oat, dignity, cortsidering he was an elderly man, and had no support whafiever to count upon. ' Do you mean any- thing mutinous, my man r» This is nought but a coaster, it's true ; howsomdever the laws of the high seas will-^'^ 'You're a good'toan,' said Harrison again, *an' I won't harm you ; but I must have morCy d'ye see !' ' I haven't got none— leastways the little bottle I keeps for medicine can't be counted,' was the calm reply of the Qlptain. * And what's more, Harrison, I wouldn't give, it to you, no, not though you took my life, as it's true ye might' ^ ex. Before this moral courage, even the fierce eye Of the seaman quailed. He looked round irresolutely, then s^id, ♦ Well, Captain, we'll part here, you an' I. I won't just force ye to send me right ashore ; but there's Lundy Isle here, it's next thing to adesert one,' he added, with the leer of barbarian cunning. * No grog-shops. Captain, nothing but the light-keepers ! Put her on the other ^ck, drop the boat, and I'll scull myself ashore there, with the lads to bring it back.' • ,, , To this demand Captain Chunck necessarily yielded ; he could not help himself, so he considered it more becoming to do so without further words. The schooner, therefore, was * put about,' and the boys were despatched in it towards the lighthouse, which shone broad on the lee-quarter. They had got into the deep shadow of the lighthouse rocks, and were touching the shore of the cove, into which Harrison directed the boat, when he took hold of Alf's hand ; and with a sort of husky shake in his voice, he said, *Boy, I be sorry to part with you like this.' * Harrison,' said Alf, gently, * is there no way to save you ? Won't you come back with us again, and try once more? Think of Nancy ! Oh, how I wish my good granny was here,' he called out in his earnestness to save him ; ^^^e^ssiild speaA: to you, when I ean^ f fe^^Jmow shr would tell you, that it vexes nof only Nancy, but all the angels in heaven will mourn for you.' lAJV*^ A Happy New Year. »93 d had no tiean any- a coaster, LS will-^' ,n' I won't le I keeps iply of the In't give, it 's true ye eye of the then said, won't just jundy Isle ith the leer in, nothing t|ick, drop th the lads ly yielded ; d it more ; schooner, despatched oad on the dow of the )f the cove, ;n he took y shake in lii you like ray to save id try once ood granny save him ; V kn o w sh gn but all the ^ It can t be, youngster ; instead o' the desert isle I spoke to good old Chunck, here I'm back to port. Wliat you say boy, is like a rope hove over to a sinking man : and 1 d hke to lay Iftjld on't, but I can't. I must have more dnnk, for my throat's on fire, an' it must be slaked. It's not hkely we'll ever meet again ; but if we do, I'll be glad. If good-will's worth having from the likes o' me '^hy, you has it, boy 1 I'd a'most said, God bless ypu !' The next moment he was gone ; they waited till the last sound of his footsteps had died away up the rocks, then cheerlessly sculled themselves back to the schooner. „ (TV be continued.) *A HAPPY NEW YEAR.' Sing softly, sing slowly, the old year is dying. The hours are.number*d--its end now draws near;. But while its last moments are rapidly flying. Dear children, we wish you * A Happy New Year.' We wish not for honour, for riches, for treasure ; These last but a moment — they soon disappear ; And though ours were silver and gold without measure. Oh, these could not bring us * A Happy New Year.' ^ We wish you the smile of our Father in heaven. The sense of His love without shadow or fear; He will not withhold, who a Saviour hath given. Aa""''. birds fuUyfleVd LvS^%? baches 7;^^; ^f °"' '^7 ^"^' '°°^^ amongst' the Dranches of the bush; one, alas! to the ground! The child stooped to pick it up, but ere she Talents few or many ; None so voung and smsdl, That they mive *ot any. Every little mite, Every little measure, Helps to spread the light. Helps to swell the treasure. \ ..^^^^ - ' M. VL hey both f out the aoa Lizzie Willis, LIZZIE WILLIS, AMD WHAT SHE LEARNED FROM THE FAIRY QUEEN OF DREAMLAND. »V MONA B. BICKKRSTAFFE. CHAPTER IL IHEN Lizzie opened her eyes, she found herself lying on the bank by a pond ; but it was not the pond in the duke's ground. * Dear me ' said she, 'I feel veiy queer. I do beheve,when that feirypuUed so at my eyelashes, she pulled them away altogether, and my eyeUds too; yet, now when I shut my eyes, something does come over them, but it is a lower instead of an r.Jf^\u^' i^^^ °^' ^hat ^ be the matter with my hands ? There are my four the pond and try if I can see what it is.' ^ Down our little friend crept to the edge of the cl^r ?^^.:m''' ^^''^f^^^ ^' ^^« started blck in ho^oT for no golden hair did she see, and instead of her pm^' ]onf,n^'\-^^ fair rosy complexion, she beheld aS looking ojjjert, with scales on its head instead of hS^- black sleepy-looking eyes, only protected by a fifmv tower hd; no rosy lips, and, teAible to i^kefno teeA ?L ^^^^''^^ ^° ^°°y "dg^ serrated TdveS ^^^^^tc^^rSS.' ^' she exclaimlL. d:r; „.?i^' ^^^ me roch a shape as this I But t" wish I could manage to see this hard case on my back UEEN or eyes, she e bank by the pond Dear me,* ;er. I do pulled so hem away yet, now loes come sad of an 1 be the my four they are ppear to g too on . down t«g«intermontW »^swanow ? Then 1 1^7 a^'"" « Why can't I be *hen this place becomS^L^Ltr'"^ "*," «>'"'«" pleasure aU the year round AiVl''-'°^°^S'>"«ve ho e I could nevJr en5S«ch^ intries light have Jt up in a nee.' ire to be d; so, to \ idleness into your you will I sup- laving to e friend. I might tired of 3r play, run if I into the shell on e swam »joyed ivelling )ld her. in she ) what . He- me of limbs, 5 little a bit gently rTittle ~" ow us your funny little face. Now, open your eyes, you queer -little creature.' She did as she was told, and, looking up, saw that she was in the hands of a kind-looking lady, very tall and' richly dressed, with fair hair and a lovely face — ^just such a one as she had hoped some day to be like. * What is it, mamma ? Oh, I see it is a tortoise, just the same as the one in my picture-book. May Ijtake it in my hand, mamma ; it won't bite me, will it ?' * No, dear, it is a very harmless little creatiure, and has no teei, though, perhaps, if roused by very cruel treat- ment, it might give a severe pinch with its homy lips, which it can shut so tightly, that even if its head was cut off, the jaws would still retain their hold. But I fancy the creature seldom uses them for any other purpose than to bite its food ; for when danger approaches, it does not seem to stand on the defensive, but prefers drawing in its head and limbs, and keeping them safe out of harm's way. This is very well when it is thoroughly awake ; but I have read of a poor tortoise which was attacked by rats when in a half-torpid state, and they ate out its eyes, and otherwise mutilated the helpless animal, whose faculties were not sufficiently alive to enable it to use its instinct for self-preservation.' * Mamma, is the back and front shell of this creature all in one ?' * It seems so, dear ; but there are really two distinct shells, firmly united at the sides, but leavinjg two open- ings, one for the head and fore-legs, the other for the tail and hind-legs. Even the upper shell, which appears to be all in one, is composed of tiiirteen different pieces, laid flat upon the ribs, like the tiles on the roof of a house ; and by those ribs it is kept arched and supported, so that it cannot press upon the soft internal parts of the body. * New , poor little tortoise, we mu st put you down, on the grass ; brperhaps, if you were travelling on to the kitchen^ gsurden, it would be kind to help you on your way.' 206 Lizzie Willis. will soon turn yourself riaT,f \™^^^^^^^^ Lizsie Willit, ao7 la.' ^y and be »e lettuce , Master »er back, M do in sad diffi- yourself, and you friend went on from day to day, from week to week, ith to month, bringing to our little tortoise a lonotonous existence ; idle enough, with nothing at to eat and sleep; a life that seemed to havf any' life in it, and during which our poor little lit naany regrets. * How much better,' thought she, a little girl, to be busy sometimes at work or at ins; but to feel bright and lively afterwards, and^ready to enjoy a pleasant game of play. Now I have no work to do, and yet I never care for play. I feel so continually stupid and sleepy ; I seem to be nev6r quite wide awake. Then, as to^ the delights of being a fine kdy ; from what I see here, it appears to me that even great ladies are not always happy; for my beautiful mistress, though she Wears such rich clothes and jewels, and lives in this splendid place, is often very sad, and I have many a time seen the tears run down her face as she stooped to pet and feed me. There was love and peace in our little .cottage, humble though it was ; but here I constantly Ipok at angry faces, and hear unkind words, which re- minds me of what mother read out of the "good book": " Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith."' •f.i- It for le to eally her. and her hod lied ery CHAPTER LAST. It was on a very dark November morning that the tortoise, . awakening from her night sleep, was surprised to find the aur unusually cold. Her lunbs felt so benumbed, she could scarcely move ; and when she tried to get into the pond, she found it covered with a substance Hke glass, so hard that she could not break it, and so slippery that even her strong pointed toes could not fix themselves in any way firmly into it. * Come off the pond,* said a voice ; J can't you see that Kin g Frost has been here in the ni ght, and has chained up all the water ? If he did not do so, the fishes and delicate water-plants would perish ; now th^ ill 908 Lizzie Willis. toer«wKi'*'~'?"'°?""''' '^^ P«'«~^ from the intensely cold clear air above. There is a mow«fn™ jcnofe m the bank, cover yourself up and eo to slem ni come and wake you when it is sie.for ^ou toS^ * YoH are veiy kind, indeed, Mr. IhstSct • but I reallv cannot do what you advise. I'used toS^Py in tL^ «.§ },«ii K • * , never even see the snow, nor ie red holly-bemes, nor the orange and purple crocise^ tW come up so prettily in our garden at hS "''^''' "^"^ All vejy well,' said the voice ; * but I believe that th. frouble of making yoiirsefr*a place of shelter T i,V^ hoped th^by this time you wo'uld hrveTeen cu/ed of your msufierable djslike to work • °^ ' mor? ^^'1k— I ^5° ',? don't want t6 be idle any more. I find this mictive Itfe so miserable that T VZ ready todoanyamountof work, if only I S^y\e '^^^^^^^ . to my former position, and so be free to stay above woSnd and enjoy this beautiful world in the wintL time Sead tt*' J'^-f^^^'' ^y ^^^* or something as horrible when . w T^'i^ '^^^ '° defers myself.' ' ^^^" WeU, well,' said friendly Instinct, ' I see you are reallv coming to your senses aglin, and in that Lse^ou^^ not require me to attend upon you any more. See here IS my sister, the queen of Dreamland; and pthaps if vou promise her to be an industrious, obhging^htKrl hi stead of being vain and idle, she mayl^sforyou^S^^^^^ to your proper form, and then you wiU be once S under the guidance of our noble relatiC" ReZn,"^ho "ohrL^ZT '^ r^r^'' ^"*« Dre^n?^7 Oh ! mdeed, I won't. I am sure I wiU be cood. Cih motiier, mother I Marion, do come hSel TS «a ' ioudc^ littr^Dzzie opened hef^: ^^ Lizzie mais. ao9 of Dreamland, but her mother bending over her, and to feel her mother's loving kisses on her cold wet cheek* 'Marion I Marion!' cried the widow; 'I have found her. My poidr darlmg child, we hav« been seeking you all nigh^^up and down in the forest, and now, when our lamp had gone out, we should never have discovered the . path to this hollow, but for that bright gleam of moon- light tiiat led me here ; and then I heard you crying out ' Oh, mother,' said Marion, * how thankful I am that ' we^raye found her ! But her clothes are wet through with the night dews, and she is perished.,with cold. Here wap her in my cloak, and let me car^ her ; you cannot mother dear, you are so worn-out from all you have gone through.* V?, ^ s f» " So Lizzie, like a little stray lamb, was found; and . earned home in Marion's loving arms. Her^w^t clothes were quickly taken off, and she was put, dry^bd warm, into her own- snug littie bed. But when the sun ight stole into the room, it found her quite awake, with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes ; and, while she tossed from side to side in the fever that kept her in bed for many days, she rambled in her talk about the pond in the ' duke's wood, and the tortoise, and many other curious things besides ; and her good mother, watching by her bedside, shook her head sadly,% while, turning to Marion, she whispered, 'Poor dear, see how she suffers for her long .sleep on the damp bank by the pond. I should think her queer fancies about the tortoise have come into her head from thmking of that one she saw at Mrs. Bell's • for, when Master Harold told her what ata idle life it led' she said she wished she might be a tortoi^, or anything' else, so^that she might sleep when she lifcd, and play when she hked, and have no more work to dV By and by Lizzie was able to get up ; and though for a time very weak, she soon became strong ag^; and though all her beautiful to had toJhe cut off, sfe w^ mx so very sorry to lose it; for, when she looked 1 the pond below the waterikn, and saw her little rot o -^ I i telililiillWiii :ro Ragged School Reminiscences. cropped head) she only laughed and said, *What a silly girl I was when I had those lon^ cUrls. I thought I was much too pretty to work. Now I am not going to be so foolish any more, but mean to try and help you, mother, and Marion, as much as I can; you were both so good, nursing me when I was ill.' * My darling,' said Mrs. Willis, *you should thank God as well as usr; for it was He who watched over you that, datk night ill the forest; and though He thou^t fit to punish your wild idleness by making you so very ill, He has brought you through it all. And as for the curls, my child ; though nicely kept curls are very pretty to look at, the "good book" tells us, that a girl or woman's best ornament is not in fine clothes, or jewels, or beautiful hair, but "the adornment of a meek and quiet spirit, which, in the sight of God, is of great price."' \ ~ RAGGED SCHOOL JIEMINISCENCES. THE TWlN BROTHERS. .AVING prdmised to give you some account of children we have met with in these schools, I will begin with Teddy and Freddy P., two little twin brothers, boys for whom all who knew them felt not only much sympathy, but almost love. Although' often fatigued in body, never got tired of Ragged School work ; and having my time at my ovi^ disposal, I spent much of it in two schools, not very far fi-om where I resided, even during the several years in which Field Lane had the greater por- ^onofit, and held t he first place in m y affec tions. In 1*48 1 became secretary to a comparatively smaU Ragged School Reminiscent •es. 211 Vhat a silly >ught I was joing to be ou, mother, :h so good, thank God er you that •u^t fit to eiy ill, He e curlsy my tty to look >man's best •r beautiful uiet spirit, :es. you some have met will begin ly P., two for whom t not only Dst love. id in body, lool work ; li disposal, s, not very during the reater por- Qns» , _ ively small hnn A^ 1*'^^ attehdance at which was about one hundred with one hundred, and fifty on the iooks Dunng the fourteen years I worked there, it w^ admir* ably managed by the same kind, Solent teacher How many e^^cellent womem there are, X rive the[; time, energies, and I may say health, from a Tsire to WlJ '"^ P^^^^h"dren-.for the salary they receive barely supports them I .It is somethingfor high^S gam which actuates these devoted Christians ^ scnoiars on Monday mommgs-^e teacher taking their n^es, and where they were to be found ; and eZr mi- • nV;rr o/ti:'r'''^ committee.' who S^ht Si went toT^nHl^ ^'^'■'^T"' on getting the address, went to it, and endeavoured to learn if the children were suitable cases for a Ragged School. If we thS^Se parents could afford to pay for them, we endeavoured to persuade them to send the children nstead toUie excd^^ lent parish school pot far off, where, for the payment o? a very small weekly sum, the education was ve?^Cerior bettt h'^r Ar H^'^'!?' ^*^°"^"^ them?ol*Such fhir! J • ° ^^ independent If we failed in getting r^S T""""''^ *? ^^""^ the^^Uta paid school, S "f called then we admitted the children, rather tha^ Aa? Snrof°."ihr ^^n^^^^- I^ genera, they^^ ve^ fond of school; and the kind wofds they heaf there s^ unhke what they are used to in their mLerable homes them take m their lessons, partic-filarly in siflrine iheir hymns and school rhymes, bring them not oSySSw but so early, that you will sel them quit^half S^S One Monday, when I went to inquire if there were an v M^^ appUed for admission, T w two TreTf lifii= boys sittmg very patiently. They were ^or^cMt 'yijm-'-' >-. ■..-/ .*«• 219 Ragged School Reminiscences. r. very neat a||^d clean. The governess told me that, a most respectable middle-aged woman had brought them, and gave me her address. I soon found Mrs. P., living in a neat small house, the greater part of which she let as lodgings ; and seldom have I seen a more kind and benevolent countenance. She told me, that about four years before, a very respect- able young couple came to lodge with her, bringing their twin baby boys of a few weeks old. The father earned a very decent Uveljl^pod as a saddler and harness-maker; his wife was a very nice young creature, but very delicate, and soon consumption came on. She gradually became weaker, and when the children were not three years old she died. The husband for a time was as attentive as he could be to the motherless children, and Mrs. P. and her daughter took every care of them when he was out at work. But at last work felL off; the father lost his employment and went to Wales, where he had friends, to look for work, and to make there another home for his boys. Mrs. P. undertook the charge of the children until he got a proper place for them — he promising an allowance from his wages when he got work. He soon wrote to say he had found employment, and enclosed half a sove- reign in the letter. After that Mrs. P. heard no more. She wrote to his address, and was told he had gone off, no one knew whither. Under such circumstances, most people would have taken the children to the workhouse, where they would have been taken in, but I will not say how they might have been treated. Mrs. P., however, could not think of this ; but with the consent of her husband and children (for she had a family of her own), she determined to keep them till she found their father. No mother ever fulfilled her duty in a more loving and tender manner. She taught the children to call her ^Mam^ and they hiing about her in a manner not often seen amongst the <^hildren and their parents who inhabited those courts aiKTan^yST '. " ^— — )untenance. Ragged School Reminiscences. 2 1 3 You may be sure there was no difficulty in admitting n,^S,^T'.l°^ ^^'u^'^^* y^^" they attended our schooll Sw i. M ^^ *5^y ^^^"^'"^ * «°o^ Pl^i^ education j thfey could read and write well, knew a httle of grammar f^f fT!f^-^' and simple arithmetic; but, above all, they had their ipmds richly stored with gospel truths They.were always at the top of their class, aid w^fed to think the teacher felt proud of her pet boys : fw how could they be other than favourite,, when they gave heT less trouble than any other of her scholars, aSd were m^ed, very unlike the rude children she had to deai hpr*^>K^^^^*?" ^q'^^s^te^y clean ; and we used to help - thJm Qif^'^'^^^^^^*'' ^^^^^ «^e "^^de down foV ^ l,>r;i,.^, r^^"^ prevented them from associating ^^ with the unruly spints with which they w^re surrounded • they always thus retained a look of superiority. Had you ^ - not known their history, you would have inquired how it was that such boys came to a Ragged School ^ - r^oS^I^.* ^^^^^' 'P"g^tly f<^"ow, not always pre- ^^ \T^ ^!? ^?f°'''' ^*^ls* Freddy was quiet and tiioughtful, and seldom required to be found fault wiSi They were -so much aUke, that, had it not been for a look— of ddicacy about Freddy, you could not have knowA Jid gooS^llS^^^^^ ' ''^^ ""^ ^°^^" ^- "^'^ ^e> but Whenjthe^boys had been at school -for eight years I went^otlandforafewweeks. Just before! leftTSw them m their usual place ; immediately on my return, I visited the school, and was surprised to see Teddy sitting alone, looking very sad. I was almost afraid to isk him for his broAer. The teacher told me that, almost i^ mediately after I left, both th, boys took merles aTd Freddy never recovered ; the disease was overcome, but his lungs and chest were affected, and he died of i^apid consumption. I did not dare to ask T^AAy a si *^' yesiron, but wen^ to see Mrs. P., wh^needed as much consolauon as if Freddy had been her own child. 214 Ragged School Reminiscences. She told me both the boys were very patient when they werl ill ; and Teddy was soon running about again. It was a raild attack of measles, but Freddy never re- covered strength to be out of bed, but wasted away, and had a very severe cough. Two days before he died, Mrs, P. thought him better, and began to have hopes of his recovery ; she went out for a short time, leaving him asleep, in charge of her husband. Soon after her return, he awoke, and said, * Mam, I feel better, and am so happy, for I have been to the school again, and there were such beautiful children there, all dressed in white, and they were singing — *' I think when I read ,the sweet stoiy of old. " And oh ! Mam, Jesus stood in the middle.' An4,thus he went on for some time, telling her of his glorious vision. He then took some nourishment, and afterwards lay quiet. Mrs. P. thought him greatly better ; but when the doctor came, he told her Freddy was very near death. He had many of these delightful trances. The school was frequently the place where he met with these beauti- ful children ; nor is this to be wondered atj^or I dare say many of his happiest hours had been spent there. When awake, Freddy was constantly repJating the texts and hymns he had learnt, and used oftfen to ask for the teacher and his brother, that they might pray with and for him, and to tell them of those bright spirits h,e was soon to join. You may be sure I felt grieved that I had not been with him at that time. Soon after Freddy's death, from circumstances un- necessary to enter into, the school passed into other management ; the old teacher left, and it was only occa- sionally that I went to see ray old fnends amongst the mothers who used to attend my class, and to inquire aj;er the children, in many of whom I felt a deep interest liiever found Teddy absent from school. About eighteeti ttrohths ago, T was one mdnifng suir- prised by a visit from Mam, accompanied by Teddy, Ragged School Reminiscmm. atient when about again, iy never re- d away, and re he died, ive hopes of leaving him r her return, and am so I, and there ed in white, f\.n4,thus he rious vision, srwards lay ut when the ar death. The school bese beauti- r I dare say ere. plating the iren to ask might pray right spirits grieved that stances un- into other 5 only occa- mongst the to inquire :ep interest V 215 ommg sur- by Teddy, ■ bringing the -startUng intelligence that she had just received a letter from the boy's father, to say he was now doing well in the city of B— , had got a comfort- able home, and had recentiy married again, and that he and his wife were most anxious to take Teddy home • and if Mrs. P. would bring him, every expense should be Mrs. P. could not leave home then, but shemade every inquiry, and found all that the father had stated was correct. I oi^ht to have stated that, during the eight years the boy^were with her, she had occasional letters of mquiry about the boys, with promises of money, which however, never came. * . Well, Teddy was got ready; we all helped to make hii^ look nice ; the money came, and he was sent off by rail. I wiU not attempt to describe the parting ; but Mrs P never looked Uke herself after, and her husband, who died SIX months ago, fretted continually for these boys, although he had grandchildren of his own. Letters came now and then from Teddy, often expressing a wish to be •u ,. ^u^ stepmother was very kind to him, more so, I believe, than his father. He was soon bound apprentice to a saddler, and is now doing well. Ere long, an invi- tation came for «Mam' and Mr. P, to visit them, and money was sent to defray their expenses. They went, and found everything very comfortable for people im their station ; yet Teddy was most anxious to return to Lon- don, and live with * Mam.' Since then, 'Mam's' husband is dead, and she is left in very poor circumstances. Let us hope Teddy may hye, and one day repay her in some measure for the disinterested kindness she showed him in the day of his need. Let us hope also, that, throughout his life, the instructions he received in his early days may never be forgotten ; and that at whatever time it may please his ^eavenly Father to call him hence, his dea th-bed may \^^ rarroun^ed by the same glorious visions which made Freddy'.B one of rejoicing. _^.j. >JU- 7X6 TheMistUtoe. * THE MIS'TLETOE. HE most of my little friends, will doubtless oft have admired the silvery modest mistletoe— w«<»» a^«»i— which cheers the woods and orchards of the south of Eng- land, and with its white semi- transparent fruit forms so beautiful a contrast to the scarlet-berried, spmy- leaved holly with which we deck our homes at Chnstmas time. But few of you may be aware of the interest attached to this plant, which, though of no known use to man,, except for the bird-hme made from the bemes, is remaAable not only as a parasite, but on account of the Dniidical superstitions with which it is connected, and, I dare say, miny of you will be clad to hear something about it. . Now a parasite means a plant that, instead of beine fixed m the ground and drawing its sustenance from the soil, hves on the juices of other trees, on the branches of which it has gathered, its seeds .having been acddentaUy lodged m the bark. ^ The thistle ti^ is indebted to the summ^ breeze for the disp^ion of Its feathery seeds in the air, whilst the sb-onger blast is ^sent to scatter abroad the heavier fruit of the ash etc. ; but it is to the humble and unintentional ministay of a burd that the mistletoe owes its propagation ' and thus we have a beautiful instance of the innuSrable means which our Father adopts in spreading fertiUtv life and beauty upon the earth. ** ""ly.me. The bemes of the mistletoe are the favourite food of many bu-ds, especiaUy the ww^^Z-thrush, which has ^^T^^ i^" ^^ ^Q"" ^^ ^^'^ After a meal, they fly -to the ncarestTree,tOTm]rflfflVtlean their biTl?^^ ^'i:; riends, will Imired the c — viscum the woods th of Eng- hite semi- » beautiful ed, spiny- our homes F you may ted to this ^ use to ; from the e, but on rhich it is ^e glad to of being \ from the ranches of ddentally breeze for whilst tile avier fruit atentional ►pagation, ' iumerable tiUty, life, riM food rhich has I, they fly The Mistletoe. 217 h' Thb MlSTUTOB—rMnvm album. visdd or clammy substance that has issued from the fruit on whic^ thev have been feasting, and thu^the sLd^s conveyed ancf clings to the biand,, steaW unde^the b^k and speedUy taking root. Any of you couW easUv Hfviiucc or nature, and careftOIy crushing a riue berrv agftmst the bark of an apple tree early in sprin^^ ^ L'A,. 14s» «ii^*'* IW IM I IM',1.. 2l8 Tlu MistUtoe, • There are about twenty kinds of trees in England to which the mistletoe will attach itself, but on none more- readily than, the apple tree, -which it often destroys by sucking the sap, and thus robbing it of all nourishment- consequently the mistietoe is looked upon as an enerav' m the orchard. ^ But it was when found on the oak that the Druids— whom I dare say you know were the priests of ancient bntam— held it m such sacred estimation, and associated with such cruel practices and sacrifices, as Would make )ieu shudder to hear of It WAS gathered on the New-Year's morning with great pomp and solemnity. The chief Druid cut it with a golden hook, allowing it to f^ll intd a pure white cloth which was held suspended by the other priests. It was then sold to the people, doubtless at high prices, as a sovereign remedy against disease, and a preservative against all dangers. Even as late as the seventeenth century, it was worn suspended around the neck as a safeguard against witches, and a cure for all sickness— so great were its imaginary virtues. How thankful may we be, that^ live not in the days of. such dark ignorance and superstition, that we only value the mistletoe for the lovely variety its peariy berries make in our Christmas decorations, and that its mystic influences extend no further than the sly kiss beneath Its branches at * The mtoy time of Christmas, When young hearts slip the tether, And lips all merry, beneath the berry. Close laughingly together.* J I-. P. ,\:"V Little Watchers. England to Q'none more- destroys by ourishment ; s an enemy he Druids— s of ancient d associated ^ould make g with great t it. with a white cloth, sts. It was prices, as a preservative seventeenth neck as a sickness — in the days at we only arly berries t its m)rstic iss beneath I-.P. ' 219 LITTLE. WATCHERS. w^ HE old year with its joys and sor- rows, Its hopes and fears, it§ sun- shine and shadow, was almost gone —this was Its last evening. ' With a heart humble and thank- ful for the past/ full of childlike trust for the future. Aunt Kate gathered her loved children-her nephews and meces-with their Christmas visitors for one more talk ere 1866 was numbered with the past. \ All even the very youngest— little Edith fi, , ^\ ^^^ ^ solemn time : and verv ouipt they were as they clustered in the dusk round the WaS schoolroom fire, so quiet that their aunrhesft^ed ^5 mterrupt the silence so suited to the time '° But happy children are not wont to keep long silence At first, m whispers, a little word now and tLn was heard which grew louder and more frequent asall began to tafk ' n™ *. ^^l ^i"^ y^""' ^'^ ^^^ something to say inl^ praife ; indeed, it was unanimously allowed to have been the very happiest of their lives. h J^H^^rS^' ^^^ ""^^ ^'^^^'" P"^«'s at *hool, and never had hohdays been so pleasant. Their sicjtprc v.o!i I^ travels in Switzerland ^tp terof,-wth AerwonderSJ sights and delightful adventures and-!^hat was ^i crowning joy to the whole household-thelrde^ father had rehirned in perfect health, then thTre ^s th4 peasanVchristmas gathering, not spoiled b^o^^^^^^ or one unkind and angiy word. Truly there was ^^d ^m^gat^eUiayh^ Yet one voice was silent, one little giri's eyes w^ % ) -'A'4 1 sio l!.ime Watchers, filled wjth tears. If was Annie Seton. Had she then no joys, no blessings for which to praise God ? Not so • ^nnuTrTi"''^ ^' "^y *°° ^'^^P ^o"^ ^o^ds; her feelings could only find expression in the tears that rolled sflently down her cheeks, as she recalled the way of peace, of hfe, of holy joy, in which her God had led her since her memorable visit to her cousins that time twelve months nftf/r^""?^^^"^' *?°' *^ '^"'^^ ^"d reproach that had often been her portion. Looking back, she saw that they . were each and aU but steps m the narrow way-steos ^^^^.^^^'^f'l^t^h^ hurfc^nd wearied her feet, bSt tX^A^^'^ 'c^ ^^^ ^^° ^'^^^ ^°d strengthened and fot/r//^' ^^T^'V^,^ ^^^^^ «^«^ ledger nearer to her God ; and she thanked Him for them all. Miss Morton observed the silence, and saw the tears; knpwing then- source, she did not notice her fimher than to put w if'^l^^''*^^ '""""^ A^"*' ^°^ ^y "s tender pressure,to let her knowa sympathizing fiiend was beside her. rhe cheerful talk had lasted some time. Aunt Kate taking httle part in it, while she rejoiced to listen to tiie gajefol lovmg words that told of the past, when Helen « We have been all of us. Auntie, trying this past year !^/^TJ^ ^' ^T 5"°^ ^^^^ ^"g^^ "s to be travellers. aSd ^vereT' '^'^^''^'' ^""^ ^'^^"'' ^^ comforters, ; And peace-makers too,' added Edith. « Is there any- thing else you would like us to be? . To-morrow will be for ^s'^rS^:? " '' "^"^' "^ j"^* *^ -^ --t ti-e * Indeed, dears there are a great many other things m,!^i?r°' ^°"-^5 to be-one particularly, that has been much on my mmd, with reference to the New Year I wajit you aU to begin to-morrow to be Uttle watchers.' Watchers! Auntie; how are we to be watchers ? What are we to watch' for ?' «^ » ^^ »» iwt -^Perhaps,' said^KaS^-*mn^-ffiHgft]^f^-^-^ watch over something.' d she then ? Not so ; her feelings lied silently f peace, of r since her ve months. :h that had »r that they H^y — steps er feet, but hened and her nearer all. Miss 5; knowing lan to put jressure^to her. ^unt Kate teii to the en Helen past year travellers, omforters, there any- w will be icest time ler things has been Year. I :hers.' s? What re are to . 'I mean both those, dears, and something more beside 1 want all of you to be henceforth, and for the rest of your lives, watchers for some one, and watchers against somethmg and watchers over both things and people f^^^M^'''v """ Tn.^y °°^'^^ «° find%ut.our lesion for the New Year. Who then are those for whom we ^e wont to watch ? My boys were lately watching eagerly wer^ they not?'* 8 ^«gcii;r, * We were indeed watching for one we loved so well —tor our tether, who was coming to take us home. We ^?1 T^"^' '°°' '° ^^°^ ^^™ ^'^ 0"^ prizes.' .f ftr '^J^'"'} my little girls were watching, standing at the wmdow lookmg down the avenue, straiking eves and ears to see and hear the first tokens of the coming ones; and I am sure I heard a shout, and more than on^e, to told the joyful tidings of the arrival Why was « *^K^\^""^^ ^^ ^ere watphing for the boys— our Ta^'?*^'^' *^^* ^^ ^""^ ^ot 5^en for months.'^ And one morning lately, J, heard voices at a most unusually early hour, saying, "When will the light come? It must be time to get up ?" No one was lazy fhat mom- mg;no one coaxed to stay a little longer in bed ' ' « A^'1:T^ u ""^^ Christmas morning. Auntie. Such fortt I? happy day, we could not help watching Jf^5/^^ ^"''^^' ^"^ y°^ remember how we all watched for the doctor, when dear papa was so ill ?' 1 do, dears, well remember. And He for whom I fer thT fV^*"^^ I' ^r^' ^^' °' ^'^gh' to be dearer w;. ^^^-^^ ?f ^'""^^^^ for He is our precious fh?r-^ ?^ ''. "^^^ ^^^P "^ '"o^e i« om- need th^ L «f if t"^, °^°«J^..«kilful physician. The meeting, t^\ f 7^° ^""^^ P™ ^" be ^^PPi« than any thf ^er took place ; it will be a meeting, not for a few pl«L sa n td a y yyeks, butH^ever ^d ever. It will be^^ . ' , '7 , -> •**••. •w 16 »«:i j^iu ever. It Will Be a WhT ^"^^^^^ ^^. eV^ dawned on earth, to be fol- lowed by no dark night It wiU be the coming in glory 223 Little Watchers. V of our Lord Jesus Christ ; His coming for His people ; His coming to take them to be with Him in the beautiful home He has gone to make ready for them ' 'Auntie that's the " blessed hope " you have so often told us of. - . , 'I wonder. Auntie, why He has not come ? Think of all the years that have passed away since He said, « Surelv I come quickly.'" , o cijr 'He h^ told us one gracious reason for the delay, aears. Can any of you repeat the verse ?' Charles, after a moment's thought, did so. * The Lord is not ^ack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness ; but is long-suffering to usward, not willing that any should pensh, but that aU should come to repentance.' ' Then Charles, while- we long and watch to see Him coming back, we may thank Him for the patience that gives sinners time to repent, He may come before another year has passed away— long, long before. Shall we not aU be watchers for Him, keeping the promise of His return often ^m our thoughts, sdving to H^ in our hearts Come, Lord Jesus, come Quickly ;"Tnd that blessed hope will keep us from grieving Him by sin. wiU keep us from fainting under sorrow, will keep us ready, that when He comes we may go out to meet Him Mpth loving, thankful, joyful hearts?' As she spoke, some^ of her litUe listeners looked up with all the warmth of^eamest love and hope : but more than one hung down his head as if it were a joy in which he had no share. So Miss Morton went on— ,-c nPfif ^^ f "^e-many I fear-to whom His coming s not a hope, but | fear : those who do not know Him as heir own Saviour, who do not love Him because He so loved them as to die for them, who have not come to Hun that tiieir sins may be blotted out, their hearts renewed, who ^e not trying to please Him. But it IS not yet too late^ &oi^^ may be soon. He^^^ '^ ' — -o— — •"-/ "« own. xxc cans .90W to 9ome to Him to be saved, and then when is people ; e beautiful m so often Think of d,« Surely the delay, The Lord nen count ot willing come to ) see Him ierice that Qe before re. Shall >romise of ijpa in our and that Q by sin, keep us aeet Him )oked up but more in which s coming V Him as se He so come to ir hearts But it He cattf Little Watchers. ' ^ ,23 a'^pelTng''"^'' *'^ '^"^^ ^^'^ j'^^ ^^^°^« Him at His sail-LSs^thrif' J^^'^'T-"^^""*^^' ^hen An^ie saia Jiesides that kmd of watching, you told us MW<, lamTuVe^^fnTustt' '° >^ watched' ^ainsrsome^h"^^^^^ VVell, said Katie, *I think that anyone who 1ovp«; and watches for our Lord, wiU certainfy be Itl^h^r rnii^T' ^^^^'. y^* "^^ "^^d ^eat watchfulness. Gene ra ly when we do wrong, it is because we do not stop to ev?n ih^unt 'r'".'''°^ "^^' ^^ impatient lord! or ev^n the untrue word, is Spoken— words that we wonlH ofte« give the world to recall. Jesus said to His discS - tT. col ^^^T °/.^^^ ^^^* ^o'ds He spoke to theml the solemn night of his betrayal, "Watch and prav Aat ye^ enter not into temptation.''' ^ ^* ^^ * Yes, Auntie ; and when St Paul f^llc ,",c *»,« And our foe is so strong, so cunning, and so fierce he has so many ways of tempting, that we have needl^^e; to tT^v M,^1.*° Pray-.^But o^ talk is Mng too long mZT^l k' ^^P^"*^^ ^ ^" th« diawing-rSoS, so we must just have a w^ f» „whe„ . I P-Pe« at aa •Thrchad;^"rwlT«S'*^:^r I 224 Little Watchers: objections so wisely and cleverly, that their aunt only listened for a time. One proved most satisfactorily that there was no one, young or old, rich or poor, that could not help another. * Sure^ kind words even often do good where we have nothing felse to give, or even a pleasant smile. I heard mamma say tJne day that she had a bad headache, that nothing did her so much good as our going about so quietly, and shutting the doors without nofse, for it showed her we were thinking of her, and watching |o save her poor hea^.' * I remember,* said Aunt Kate, * one day that, when I was very weary, feeling quite worn-out with a long walk in the rain, a little girl came into my room, and looking wistfully as if considering whi^ she could do for me, she left me to return in a few minutes with a <5up of tea she had begged nurse to make for "poor Auntie," who liked it so much, when she was tired at least, if not at all other times. The tea was very refreshing, but, the watch- ful love that brought it was ten times more so. I have some idea, therefore, that more than one of my little friends have been watchers without their knowing it. Now I want all of you to be so, and not only sometimes, but^ always. You cannot think how pleasant you will find this trying to make other people happy; it will keep you jfrom being selfish, and those who are selfish axe never/ happy; but better far than this, it will please Jesus, and make you like Him, of whom it is said em- phatically, that " He pleased not .Himself." So, be- ginning to-morrow, I want each young heart here, in a strength not his own, to be little watchers: watchers for the Lord Jesus ; watchers against sin ; watchers over others — over and for all whom we can in any way help. Then, when watching days are all over, we shall have a joyfiil meeting, not at the beginning of a happy New Year, but at the beginning of a happy eternity.' •fp'-' aunt only :torily that that could in do good a pleasant lad a bad od as our irs without r her, and It, when I long walk id looking for me, («iip of tea itie," who ' not at all :he watch- K I have my little lowing it. ometimes, : you will y; it will ire selfish vill please said em- So, be- here, in a watchers :hers over way help, all have a ppy New r :'? » S My gqt, Ka'a,GHoiT qHAPTER V. F there was a time when Ned Gaskin's wish, of turning his grand- son's thoughts from being a sailor, seemed likely to be realized, it was after Harrison's disappearance from amongst the crew of the ' Dove.' The vessel being then short of hands, there was so much to do, that Alf was almost worn out Had the weather been favourable, matters might not have been so bad ; but it turned out quite the reverse : indeed, though the * Dove' had been in stormy weather before, she had never en- countered such gales as bftw on this occasion during her passage up Channel to Liverpool. Alf kept thinking of his home, and how they would lamentVat the tidings of his death ; and over and over againhe wished he was sitting safely at the log fire with the^^o old faces, that he loved so well, looking doim so kindly mto his ; and he thought that, if it were possible the schooner could be saved, he would devote himself to make then: future life one round of happiness. All his childhood s'eemed to pass in review before his sight that night, and he knew th6n how good and kind Ned and Dolly had been ; and when he never ex- pected to see their dear faces again, during that terrible night watch^ when they were struggling to weather the d fln ge r oi iH B lnc k Rocks, ^ g e t i ai o a place of safety in Uie nver Mersey, he prayeU so earnestly that they might be rewarded for their goodness to the poor found- aaS ^ Found Afloat r\ !!?w,3^*^ storm, coming after the fearful behaviour of Hamson, made a deep impression upon Alf • for he the help and guidance of God. ^ J r.f^^^^ Chunck, too, was in an unusually serious state J of mind ; and when the timbers of the Httie craft were t^^ ^nd groaning, as if her masts would be Tom from the deck, *eing at the tiller himself at the time S fece, was holding on by a rope at hand, ' Boy, you might as weU be spending the time praying the I^rS to hfve mercy on our souls; for the fact is, if she do woric mst whiirf/r,".^^^^^'^ '^ ^« a^losTshavr'/nd while Alf held Ae-firmer by the rope, he repeated.^th an ^estness before unknown, the simple praySsTp^ pointed for such tunes of p^ril at sea, adding, indee? fr' if''5 r^ y^"^^^' supplication of his^^, tni the altered bearings of the coast lights showed thev ^hh r f /'T^' *^^^"^ ^^^"^^ ^he breakers, and! with the help of a young flood-tide, floated into the fair-way of the harbour. ^ .i,'^?ii°'^'^ T'''^ ^"""^ ^^^ " ^' Hurstcliir, standing in noltJ'S' Y^^'^^T^^ the admiring looks of the gooS Dolly fixed upon him. He had been away more Aan SIX months, and had not only shot up, but spreXutas ^T^V^ Ti ^"^ * '•oughened hand, aSd a weathe red on his cheek and ear, though the open forehead was perhaps whiter than before, and the brown locks clustered about It more crisply than ever. The first glimpse Ned got of him was enough to show that his hopes and bright projects had failed ; but he was so much pleased wiWe accounts his godfather gave of him, that he was now all eagerness for him to be a sailor. Though Alf had never paid a visit to Hurstcliff since he left it, he had not been kept m ignorance of the welfare of his friends : for at ...^^L^^^^^^^J!^^ his ^val^ ^ post Ipw tone ; ' but it's not nice to be laugl^^dsat' * Now, Alf,' said Madge, bending*-i^^ M. a ^ e ^??^^ ^^. ^^^" *°^^ ^y ^er mamma that God had sent His angels to watch over the little floating cot during ll t i"' ^^ 3""°^ ^* ^^^^y "^to Ne^s hands ; and this she had never forgot, and she always 'liked to think that /those angels were watching him still, and would grieve if •he became wicked. hl« ST«^'^^^ ^^?^^'' '^^ ^'■' springing up quickly to his feet, 'yoiL are the best and dearest Madgey that ever lyed. Look here, .if the whole crew should stand and Sn'i k""^' i^^^f ^^ '*°PP^^' ni tryto be good. Indeed, he said lA a lower tone, ' I'm trying now ; and if ' the angels do know anything about me, they- know I'm doing my vdry best' - fh^f^ '^^^ ^ ^'"^^, "^^^^ gathered on the wharf to see 7 £!-t ?T- .• ? l^'^' ^*P*^ C^"^* was to take Alf back to Bnstol there to see him safely on board the East h^nHtK^'ii f"^ ,^t'^^^ ^^ ^'^^ °f he^ ""le plump h^nHt i- /?S^^J^y/^ ^^^' «t°°d and waved her ^onM ^""^'^^ ^'\^^ ^^'^' ^'^ board the little vessel ^nlt '^^.^^^g^^l^e traced, even with the help of a tele- ,?ra?H\ f ^'"'^ °l^' ^S^^ ^^^^ Moo^«» the governess, w2f Hn^Jl, ^'r^ home; but Madge had promised to wait till the schooner was faurly out of sight. * Perhaps ^LTJm T' ^-V ^°°'^' *^°"g^ I ^^'t see him,' said little Madge, with a tremble in her voice. « He told loL /°^ ^"^ "P> ?^ "Sging with Captain Chunck's long spy-glass, and when he couldn't make me out ^ongst the crowd, he was to let me know; but how he Si o ? • V {^"* ^l^^ P^'^'' At the moment Madge ^J. /mT °^ ^?^*' ^°"^^^d by a s«ght puff of smoke ; and^Ned turned to say, * That's my boy's good- bye Miss Madge; he's fired off the Captain's fowlSg- Sin .^° ?"" r"" ^^ e^'^ ™^^« "s 0"t no longer.' But still they stood together-the old bent sailor and the Ettlf'nnl'Viil^*^^"^ ^^'^ ^^ S°°«' ^°d watched the ^ttle Dove' till it was a mer e speck on the horizon. Soon the good ship ' Flamborough,' in which Alf it. God had ot during and this link that grieve if nickly to hat ever md aiid •e good. ; and if' low I'm f" to see ake Alf he East plump i^ed her J vessel ' a tele- i^emess, lised to J^erhaps e him,' ie told lunck's ne out liow he Madge puflf of good- )wling- ' But id the atched rizon. Found Afloat. 233 Jetsam was bound for M^as and Canton, set sail. Owmg to his experience in the 'Dove,' he was not long of settling into his right place; he became an especial favourite, with most of the crew, and every one in the forecastle was soon acquainted with his little history. As he had said to Madge, he imagined that in a large ship, amongst so many men, he would hardly dare be^^een reading his Bible, or any book whatever; but he dis- covered that this was npt necessarily one of the difficul- ties he had to contend against. No doubt the Captain was knoAvn to be a wdrthy, and even a religious man; ajd, as generally follows in such cases, his crew were chosen at least for the appearance of good behaviour. Some of them were gr^ve and thoughtful men in their pnvate hours, and most of them were extremely fond of reading. They would read their Bibles quite openly of a Sunday, or any of the books that missionaries and others had left with them before sailing ; and many of the older hands, who were not very good at * book-learning,' would be glad to sit and hear somebody read aloud to them Alf being often chosen' to perform this office; so that whatever hardships and difficulties he had to encounter dunng this his first voyage, praying and reading his Bible had nothing to do with them. The trials he reaUy had to meet were of a different nature. He had to endure without complaint the ro\igh treatment, which in civilised life would have been considered fearfully barbarous ; he had to learn to bear hardship and confrortt danger with- out the sUghtest wincing, as feariessly ^s the Spartan boys of old ; he M to put up ^ith tyranny or abuse fi-om more than one officer, even when he felt himself in the right or when he saw that the advantages of his own educa- tion had made Jiinx their superior in knowledge. There were yanous particulars of this kind, which would have been illustrative of a young sailor's progress; but want of --space prevente their being given here. Before leaving Bristol, Alf had made close inquiry about Hamson. All that he could discover was, that 234 Found Afloat . he had been seen rolling drunk along the streets; but one man was found at last, who had seen him heaving up anchor along \v^ the crew, on board an East India- man— the * Jason,' bound for Bombay. After a prosperous voyage out to 'Madras, the * Flam- borough proceeded on her way to Canton, touching at bmgapore, where, having dropped anchor about a mile and a half out in the roads, Alf was permitted to go on shore along with some of the crew. As the men were passing along one of the principal streets, rolling about and making as^uch noise as they possibly could, in their delight at being on land once more, Alf slipped away with one of the boys to have a betters-view of the town. They turned into another street, to 'get rid of then- noi§> company, with the intention of going into the bazaars^ to make a few purchases of shells and Indian nicknacks ; but just as they were at the entrance, Alfs attention was attracted by the form of a particularly - Nstalwart-lookmg sailor, who stood apparently arrested by the sight of one of the neighbouiing opiuni dens, with itkstrange intenor, and peculiar figures who came and weht Even before the man turned to leave the spot Alf h|d recognised his former shipmate, Jack Harrison • and biding his companion wait for him in the bazaar he darted across, overtook the burly seaman, and gave him a firm slap on the shoulder. Harrison turned with a stare, which showed he did not know him, for the year's absenc4^had made a most decided change in the boy's appearance ; And for a moment he seemed inclined to resent the freedom from so young a hand. *Why, Harrison,' said Alf, laughing, 'have you for- gotten your old messmate of the "Dove," Alf Jetsam?' Harrison was so taken by surprise, that for a time he could do no more than repeat Alfs name; but at last being thoroughly convinced it was no hoax, he seized Jum P ytfie hand; a nd s hook his ami almost out of the socket 'You may well believe how glad I am to see ye, boy,' he said, striking his homy hand into Alfs, k- Found Afloat. *35 eets; but 1 heaving as( India- ie *iFlam- uching at L mile and on shore e passing bout and , in their ped away «r of the et r|d of \ into the d Indian tice, Alfs irticularly - rested by ens, with :ame and the spot, larrison ; I bazaar, md gave ;d with a lie year's he boy's :lined to you for- tsam?' time he ; at last, e seized tt^o f th e a to see to Alfs, * when I tell you that I've been in a manner bn the look- out for ye, though this is about the Idst place I'd have expected to find ye. And now, if you hadn't hailed me, I'd never ha' made ye out ; and if it weren't for that curly headpiece o' youm, why, I'd not know ye now, for you be changed, an' no mistake.' And Harrison looked with admiring eyes on the fast growing lad. * And you^ changed, too, Harrison,' said' Alf ; * though,' *• he add^d^laughing, * I'd have known th^t old figure-head a hundred.* 'Ay, boy, I be altered a bit,* said Harrison, sorrow- fully. * I've coraif in a scfrt o' a way through a fiery furnace ; but we'll not speak o* that just now. I've got something to tell 'you; and if you won't mind coming with me to my dog-hole of a lodging, I'll spin ye the whole yam ; for harkye, boy, it consams yere own self.' Alf at once followed Harrison down into one of the deep narrow lanes of the densely populated native town, where he led the way up a bamboo ladder into a small loft in one of the mud-built houses. When Alf had seated himself on Harrison's sea-chest, the latter, after taking up his position on his rolled-up hammock, looked up at his young, companion, with a pleased grin oh his hardworn and deeply-seamed fa^e. * Boy,' he said, * if it wam't that I've got something more than common to tell ye, I'd ask after the worthy skipper o' the " Dove ;" but now I must spin my promised yam, and cutSt as short as I can.' \. * Well, Jetsam, you must know I got a berth aboard the "Jason," for the voyage out to Bombay. The vessel was short of hands, else they mightn't have taken me for ^ the single trip ; but you see I always remembered them talks we had in that little craft, and I had a notion you'd carry out your plan of coming to them parts. So, thinks I, I ma3^meet the boy in some of them eastem ports, and if^ud be a pity if we Tcoutdirt be shipmates^ togethei — : again if We had a mind. Well, I left the "Jason" at Bombay, when she sailed for Hongkong ; and one day, I 93^ Found Afloat. shordy after she sailed, I was strolling along the streets ttymg to make up my mind what to do,-for d've^ef* &td^rlt'° ' ''^ ^? ^"^^-^ never'K'k uie oia lady m the face again, but to knock abouf from one port to another on this side motLr ocean -^wheH c^me athwart a grand turn-out of a ^age that wa^ quay tor the P msular and Or'ental steamer. 1 cant tell you how it was, boy, but the moinenf T capped eyes on the gentleman and h s lady^it Xk me Id seen both their faces somewhere afore^ Xe odd thing wa^ the more I looked at their two littIeXunL?ers me thT?r*^ *^""^' *" "^^^^ ^'^ ^^ notioffiSd o- ,^^W T f ^^'^^TV °"^ °' *^°» by headm^kf Accord- i S^ni- °"7^?. *^^"* ^°^ *o *^ wharfAnd ^I w^ a-standing, looking at them getting aboL thrboate I noticed one of them steamers' oLeTwho was t^r ToT; n°/' -^ '^^"^"^^ "' ™^ ^ ^"^ -t ?st he edges up nee^of^lfJ1f^^^!,^"°^^^^^"d' ^^ I ^-« anyh^ow "S need of a berth, they'd have no objections to enter m*. for the steamer. Of course he siid they were S nn way short o' hands ; but he pretended tXTtTpon mv seamanlike looks, as they had^mostly lls^ifn S ^ KnhaT:''*K*'l!°^- JhiTwasth'efc^ein*^^ life I had ever been brought down to be bffered tofrZ o' t^eT' *^\^^5\so 'nuch as to think auVt about any o them smokejacks, whether screw or Saddle sSf d ye see my boy, somehow I was struck sTtmrious IH^e about them said passeng|6rs, more especiX th^lad^^ that the long and the short of it was, I do ed ^th hS offers, and put my mark to the 'greem^nt; tSen iTt mv "wll 'rmt."T''""'V ?' ^'^ aboard" once."' fl.. rn^ ' ri^°'v \^^ ""^ *« gentleman and the lady wW ^^ li^°"^^' ' °"^^' *° ^^^« J^nowed them :Td "You se^to ha' takMnS.^^^^ ' I he streets, , d'ye see, er to look bout from — ^when I that was ivn to the na/ment I puck me 1 the odd oungsters it hold o* Accord- as I was le boats,, was left . edges up lyhow in inter me "e in no ipon my . in their e in my to from )out any . Still, ous-like le lady, vith his got my ►nee. le lady, n; and looking day , as * I Found Afloai. ^yj "AntV* says I "beggin' your honor's parding, but I means no offence, I've been a-fancying I've seen you and your missus—yoijr good lady, sir, before this trip, but I can't make out where, nohow." • « Well," says he, "you may— it's not at all unlikely : but I can t say as how I've ever seen you," says he. " There's somethmg about you one wouldn't easily forget :" and again he looks at me as if he thought I was rather a rough im, sa*e walks off a bit angry-like, I fancied, and I soon found out who he was. His name was Sir George Mamweaing ; and he had been a sodger-officer, and a pat mat m the Indfes, for he had been s6me kind of a bassomd^re among the great Moguls and the bloody Bunnans, or somewhere else, when he and his wife were made pnsoners all of a sudden. Of course, there was a war made about it with our forces ; but it did them more harm than good, for they were all the more hidden up in the jungle, and they never got dear till after the height of the great mutiny among the Indian sepoys. 'It was Tom White, the stooard, who told me alt this and he says, the adventures they met with, while making their escape, would fill a whole log-book. When Tom was tellmg me says I, "No. wonder the poor lady looks so paW and sad-like. « Yes,'' says he; "but one of the maids rfells me, that dl through her trials and dangers with them Moguls, she always kept her looks, and was as cheerful as need be." Then he went on to ky, that, when she got to Calcutta, or some place where she expected to hear news of her friends in England, there she hears that her little boy, that she'd sent home to her father and mother, before going on that parlous 'venture, had been lost at sea, and she wore black clothes ever after, and even her two youngsters can hardly ever coax a smile out of her; and t^iough she's sent others home all safe smce then, she keeps pining for that first boy o' hem most uncommon. ' ays Tie7 man/ ^ WeHri ian*t lell youTibwltwas, boy, but all at once It cam« into my head,— can this be that 'ere Alf Jetsam's 238 Found ^oat. parents ? and the next time little Master Robert comes on deck, I looks close at him, and sure enough I sees a likeness, and then I knew how it all was. It had been your figure-head that had been dancing afore me all the time; and next time I sees the lady, I noticed she was your very picter. And so, to make a long yam short, I speaks to the gentleman, and tells him all about you, and gave him the name of your old ^ndad's anchorage ground. The lady is not to know anything about It yet awhile ; for if it wasn't to turn out all right, she'd be in a worse taking than before ; and I'm bound to say the ^ntfeman wasn't very sure j^out it himself. And now, my lad, here I am; after searching Bombay for. you, I gets aboard a hulk of a country ship, and comes here, on course, never expecting to see you ; but I thought it 'ud be a bit of a change ; and now that I've come across you, what d'ye say to trip our anchor home- wards by the first chance that offers ?' But, to Harrison's astonishment, Alf declared he should do no such thing. The gentleman might be his father, but at the same time he might not.; and when heYizA treated the matter so coolly, and hkd not been sure about it, was it his place to be certain ? Privately speak- ing, Alfs heart thjpbbed strangely. Had he been alone he would have wept at the thought of that pale sad lady still grieving for the baby she had lost so long ago, even when she supposed he had been drowned ; for would not his mother, wherever she was, have mourned his loss in the same way ? That this was his mother, Alf, of course, could not say; but hidden away in the inmost recesses of his heart, was a feeling that he hardly liked to acknowledge to himself, that there was a possibility, though it was alnaost too good to be believed. Still, failing clearer proof, he felt it would be madness to do anything in the matter, and, without listening to Harri- son's wild talk of running away if the Captain would not free him from his agreement, he maH^ up hjs mind to let take their course. « ?",^ ;rt comes h I sees a had been ne all the I she was im short, ill about ^ndad's anything : all right, bound to : himself. Bombay ship, and you; but that I've lor home- he should lis father, n ^^had een sure ily speak- ;en alone sad lady igo, even irould not s loss in )f course, recesses liked to >ssibility, d. Still, ss to do :o Harri- ^ould not nd^toiefe^ Found Afloat, 335 Harrison had taken a greater interest in the boy than he was aware of himself, and ever since his meeting with the gentleman, he h^ fallen into building air-casUes about Airs future, in ^ft}i^mk^^\r^» ♦»,- Ir .i._ j- . he bore a prom; bave histgrand the headfjand indiflference, if noT he said, wi A ah }emg the cause of the discovery, so he felt it rather hard to )cked so unceremoniously on ^ ^e principal actors with sucl ' ^_ t contempt * Well, Alf Jetsart . T w. '1 r ^"^^ ^"^ * ^^^ growl in his voice, Itlrought, after all the talks we had aboard that bit of a Dove, you'd have caught hold of this here line, as I've come across for ye; leastways, ye'd have took more hmterest m. the yam.' * JVnd so r do, Harrison,' said Alf, grasping the hand of his rough fnend ; «but don't you see it would never do to break my engagement with the" Flamborough " to go ott^a sort of a wild-goose chase^ and, as for runninr awayl come, old ship, when you think it over, you'd never wish me to be such a skulker. You'd surely not hke to i/ake old mother Ocean ashamed of her son, the onljr^ mother I can lay claim to at this present time Besides, it lyon't be long till we areM|b ; for we are on our way ahready, you know, if we olSf go fairly through with the voyage ; but the chances are, that we shall take a freight for San Francisco, and so go right round the world home again. But^we are short-handed, at any ^ rate, there s no doubt that a prime salt like you wiM get a berth for the asking; so, come along, and let's get it settled straight a\*ay.' 5 Harrison did not give in to the notion all at once. He had made up his mind never to return to England, but the interest he had taken in Alf made him swerve from his purpose; so, after a few more growls, being at last unable to withstand the boy's apparent delight at having him for a messmate once more, he consented, and they went to find Bob Steel, Alf's companion, who was ^t he gm m ng to think h e h a d b ee n for gotte a altog ether. The meeting with Harrison, and Jjis story, giving rise as I ' '^k ^-^s 240 Found Afl&at. it did to--ft flood of strange though^ did not make Alf forget the purchases he meant to make for his Uttle friend ^t the vicarage, Madge Dartmor ; and sundry boxes of shells, a wonderfully carved fan, a gorgeous feather tippet (which, if it had ever been worn, would have turned her into a barbarian princess at once), along with the tiniest pair of slippers, in silver filagree, without heels, were carefully packed up for that young lady, and brought safely on board, where they were hidden away in the depths of a great sea-chest. Alfs hopes about Harrison were realized ; and when the * Flamborough' continued her voyage to Canton, the latter was amongst her crew. After safely clearing the Straits of Malacca, the ship encountered exceedingly tempestu- ous weather in the China Sea, ifnich she had scarcely got the better of, before a serious mishap occurred, in spite of every precj«Utioia ; for, during the course of a dark tropical night, the ship grounded on one of the numerous reefs which ^.extend in all directions from the neighbourhood of the Philippine Islands, though she was fortunately not driven so far on the rocks but that, with a high tide and a favourable breeze, thg exertions of the crew would suffice to get her off again without much damage. The great danger lay in tht defencelessness of her conditi^, in the meantime, against the attacks of some hovering piratical proas, which 'began to increase in number, and at last mad6 a determined attempt at capturing the Indiaman. But thes^^ incidents would be too numerous to relate here in detail ; nor is there space to tell how Alf Jetsam, and his fiiend Harrison, along with others, were accidentally made prisoners by these Malay pirates ; nor of their subsequent adventures, till th|y made their escape to the boats of a British frigate. The mgate was on her way home*and, after destroying the piratical haunts, proceeded on. her voyage, without ^viag consideration to &€ whereabouts of the *Fkkm*^ borough,' or the interest of her owners in the portion of her crew thus unceremoniously carried oflf. On boar4 ijie m. Found Afloat. 241 nake Alf tie friend boxes of ler tippet imed her he tiniest sis, were brought ly in the when the the latter le Straits empestu- scarcely occurred, irse of a e of the from the I she was hat, with IS of the lit much ssness of itacks of increase attempt ts would is there larrison, )ners by ■ventures, \i frigate, sstroying without srtion of oar4 tjie Amethyst,* some days after their hospittfijle reception, Alf was surprised to find that one of the midshipmen was his old acquaintance ancj companion, Frank Dartmor. Perhaps Frank was not so well pleased to see Alf, as the latter was to discover his former playmate ; for Frank was a midshipman in full uniform, and in' his own estimation a very great personage -indeed ; while Alf could only rank as a respectable apprentice lad in the merchant service. Alf had borne his trials stoutly, as Harrison would have testified ; but he would haye endured them all over again, rather than have his old fnend4ook as if he were ashamed to own he knew him. *Why, Jetsam,' Frank had said, when the boy had naturally appeared delighted to s®e him, 'you needn't have shown the fellows that we were so very intimate. I'm an officer, you know, and you must bear this in mind. When no one sees us, it don't matter— the case is altered then— it's all right, you know; and in the first middle watch we'll have a talk about old times : then you may call me Frank, but remember, m public, I'm Mr. Dartmor.' Alf drew up his head proudly; but he walked away wiUiout speaking, not knowing that any one had heard the conversation. But the purser, one of the kindest- hearted ^en on board, had been standing by, in the shadow, and, laying his hand on Frank's shoulder, he said, • Look ye, youngster, that's a gentieman bom ; and what's more, I'm told he could put all you young mid- shipmen, from the oldest to the youngest, to the blush in seamanship. There's no need to be ashamed of him, boy.' But if Alf was vexed at Frank's words, how much more would he have been if he had heard him say, in answer to some questions from his companions, *0h, he's the grandson of an old coastguardsman down at our place, at least he goes by that name, but he was "found afloat." I wish he'd come aboard any ship but this; for so mehow Uicsc sort of fdlows have no tact in knowiWlffieiFproper station.' Frank had reason to remember his words when it was Q i* f A Carol for Children. too late. He had lost the friendship of his early com. panion ; and, though Alf forgave him very shortly after, his /eelings had been wounded. He forgave Frank for the sake of little Madge at home,, because he was her brother; but never more could they be to each other what they had been before. / {To be continued) A CAROL FOR CHILDREN. ' Awake up, my glory ; awake, psaltery and harp : I myself will awake early.' — PS. Ivii. 8. Children awake, for the cock is crowing ! Clarion notes to declare the dawn ! <;ome, for the fresh mountain breeze is blowing Over th« heather, and through the com ! Up, and a\^ay for a race and ramble ! Day is for action, and ni^t for sleep. Dewdrops are gleaming on brake and bramble ; I Shepherds are tending the lambs and sheep. Prov. xxiv. 30-34 ; John ix. 4 ; Ex. xvL 13-15. Oh ! if your friends from the distant City Watch you asleep in the glancing light, Will they not say,' with a burst of pity, • Are you mistaking the day for night ? What ! are you wasting the hours in slumber. Many abroad in the sunshine spend ? Moments ye never again may number, ^Scnt ia ac coi upli pi i a Tiobter etHIT" is early com- shortly after, ve Frank for he was her 5 each other I myself will )lowing n! imble ; sheep. iber, A Carol for dkildrm. t Coins that m golden 'tis sin to squander • Hours that ^re golden ye ought to prize': Glad by the hedges and lanes to wander. Looking around with observant eyes - Marking the marvels that fill Creation, ' Even the sparrows and way-side flowers. He who is^.gj^rding them giveth salvation, Lights with His love the most desolate hours, Prov. xviii. Si Luke xiv. 21-23 ; Job'xxxvii. 14. CI' Listen, when Earth in her ^eam rejoices 1 Hark to the choral of sea and shore ! Still in the world are the ' many voices,'— Voices in Paradise heard of yore. Pause o'er the myriad grasses waving,— Never two blades th^ are formed alike I Study God's penciUingsf lucidly graving ' Sermons in stones,' to be^keard by sight Hab. iii. loj I Cor. xw. 10; Prov. «. u. What if the spring and the summer gladness Pass m their turn into autump sere ? Joy overclouded a while by sadd^ss, Smiles giving place to the frequent tear ? Ever remember the promised growing ^ Blade, and green blossom, and bending com • Harvest Home foUows the time of sowing • Blessings encirclfc and crown the mom I * GCP. viii. 22 ; Mr.rk iv. 26-29 ; P>i. oxvi. 5. 6. 243 4 244 T^ Snowdrop, .f >. . ; THE SNOWDROP. Already now the snowdrop dares appear, The fir^ pale blossom of the unripen'd year ; As Flora's breath, by some transforming power. Had changed an icicle into a flower.' [HE snowdrop is the earliest blossom of the year, and though perhaps a doubtful wild- ling, may yet be found adorning iAany a green lane in the soutl^ of England. It comes with the earliest gleam Jf February sunshine, when Nature still rests m her winter's sleep, and only the robm is heard piping his little song of gladness. Then will ** * /'The snowdrop, who in habit white and plain. Comes on, the herald of fair Flora's train,' venture to peep from the compact little flower-sheath, in which it has so long lain snugly enveloped, and show its beauteous fair face above the snow, which it rivzas in whiteness. f^ , \ * Lone flower hemmed in with snows, And white as they.' Who does not expenence a gush of true pleasure to discover the first snowdrop, or can fail to welcome with gladness the little bunch of white blossoms that steal from out their nest beneath the sheltering tree, bringing to the flowerless earth the cheerful promise of brighter skies and more genial sunshine ?-— \ * Like a star on winter's brow, Or a gleam of consolation In the midst of sorrow, thou Comest, pearl of yegetation.' How bcaufiful are its pair of straight-veined, pale- green leaves, its drooping beUs, composed of three outer . n rex. 6m of the btful wild- g iAany a gland. It February sleep, and f gladness. -sheath, in d show its ; rivE^s in leasure to :ome with that steal , bringing f brighter led, pale- iree outer .f >. T^ Sno7vdrcp. 245 petals, enclosing their inner triplet delicately edged with green ! How* daintily they bend from the tendej: stalks, * Like pendent flakes of vegetating snow^' braying the chilling frosts, yet timidly gathenng in^lusters, ^awDTiOVS—Galanthut. :\ nodding and tieniWifig 'neatlr every sweeping biasf^ Exquisite, delicate little blossom, how we love theeV coming in this wintry season, when so few otkirs visit ^ ft ■#. 46 The bAicai Sno^re^, GalahthusfS^ taken #Mfli .M %^%,^he Gen!Sil*^irqt ■4.11 ■4!. us. Greek, W "* , % * , legend tells us of itJ.Hrst adoption, which mv ^, j^.,.«w „,^ds may be aiiiused to hear.^ S ^*^^^ ?^^' ^°P^' ®^P day aitoding leaning on her -i^nchor, watching the, snow as it%l on the earth, and ; Spnng patiently waiting till the wiltry blast had passed away lamented that those beautiful white flakes were not fair blossoms to gladden the land, Wer than chilling snow to leave all so bare and desolate. Upon which Spring extended her fair arms, poured forth her sweetest smile aijd warmest breath on the falling flakes, which immediately assumed the tortn of flowers,"and dropped on the earth,in scattered clusters of be?iuteous snowdrops Hope, enchanted with the 4ovely sight, caught the first trembling blossom as it fell, and at once adopted it as her emblem. ^ 'And thus the snowdrop, like the bow That spans the cloudy sky, ' ^°™^ ^l^^^ ^'t'* We» ror well we know That brighter days are nigh ; That circling seasons, in a race That knows no lagging, ling^ring_pace, v Sh^ll each the other nimbly cl " Till Time's departing final d aj Sweep snowdrops and the wclHH^y ]* L. K .r - ^■' lip iir^it "^r, t Ol ft6pe, , which my ing on her earth, and lad passed s were not in chilling )9n which !r sweetest :es, which I dropped nowdrops. t the first pted it as V. » ■ .< L. P. .r IVhaf mean ye hy these Stones f 247 ♦WHAT MEAN YE BY THESE STONES?', AN ADDRESS. BY THE REV, JAMES K. M'LEAN, ANCROFT MOOR. HIS is a question which, we are told, the children of Israel would ask their fathers: 'What riiean ye by these stones ?' It should, therefore, be of some inter«st to the readers of the Children's Hour. What does it mean, and to what event in the history«c^Israel does it refer? If my readers will turn to the Book of Joshua, the fourth chapter, they will find the his- tory of ilieSe stones ; and a very interest- ing and instructive history it is. Just forty years before, the people of Israel were 4eei||g from Egypt, and Jehovah made a way for them through the Red Sea, so that they passed over in safety ; while the Egyptians pursuing after them were drowned in its waters. And now, the Israelites, after wandering in the wilderness for forty years, are about to cross the Jordan, and enter into Canaan. Weakened by tlieir long w^n^^s in the wilderness, they were utterly M^^^ thfcip(ilv«»,for such a task ; and, even if they np been able to ac^^^lish it, the Canaanites werfc ready and prepared ta intercept their progress. It was neces- sary, thc*e^re,— as necessj^as it was at the R^°"» '^^' ^^^^ yo^Fhildren ask Aek fathers in time to come, saying, maFmean ye by these Stones?, then ye shall answer them, that the%S^ers of Jordan were cut off before the ark of the coven'am of the Lord ; when it passed over Jordan, the waters of Jordan TrhM °*^^ ??^ ^^n^ ^*°"^^ «h^" be a mem^al umS the children of Israel for ever.' These stones were carried, and gathered into heans ' on the other side of Jordan ; and, in addition to these Joshua set up other twelve stones in the midst of Jo": the '.Ik ?/.if ""^ ^^"'^ *^ ?^* of the priests which bore the ark of the covenant stood.' And the sacred historian says they are there to this day^that is,4hey were aHoweS to remain until the time that he iWote his n^rative. How much longer they remained in their places none can tel7 probably for many years after they were so placed. An^ you can easily imagine that, many a time aftehvards ^ ^^ bnhc! r a'ir.V?"^^'^^^^^^ '^' ^""^^°"' ^^^^ «' Now, children are naturally inquisitive. They are fond tlie priests ivaters ti^ere still in the assed oyer, itory of the of it, could thus: 'The . . . What iou Jordan, make it the hua, at the among the J said unto I you* God ery man or 3 the num- t this may a ask their e by these, , waters of lant of the of Jordan lorial unto into heaps i to these, ist of Jor- irhich bore i historian re allowed ve. How e can tell,, ed. An(F^ vards, the Tiat mean / are fond W^ mean ye by these Stones f > •V y 249 of askmg questions; and it is right they, should be. else they would never .acquire the knowledge it' is riiedful for them to possess. * Those,' says Matthew HfeAry/that will be^wise when they are old, must be inquisitive when they are young.' It was so with the child Jesus, when He was only twelve years of age. You remember that His parents found Him in the temple, after the feast of the Passover, sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hear- ing them, and asking them questions ; arid all that heard Him were astonished at His understanding and answers. And after this we are told that Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, ^and in favour with God and man. a^ Then again, observe the answer which the fatSbrs a^ mothers in Israel were insfhicted to give to the questipn. What mean ye by these stones ? * Then ye sji^ll let tour children know, saying, Israel came over this Jorda^pn dry land. For the Lord your God dried up' the \^aters of Jordan from before you, until ye were passed over, as the Lord your God did to tii6 Red Sea, which He dried up from before us, until we were gone fever; that all the people of the fearth might know the hand of the Lord, that it is mighty ; that ye might fear the Lord your God for -ever.' In other words, the parents in Israel were to tell their children what a great and wonderful thing, Lord did for them, when He dried up the watd^__, Jordan," and made a way for them to pass, over; so that the hearts of all that heard it might be seriously impressed by it, and the hearts of their children be inclined to fear God, and serve Him for ever. Th^is the Hind of instruction which parents should, V«hi^|Wb.nd above everything else, impart to their chil- drawrlhey should lead them to the knowledge of God, andldll^them of all that God has done for them, and for their childrerii * Serious godliness,' says Matthew Henry, -'is the best learning.'. The knowledge of Jesus, and :==^whiitHe has done fer us, is^^ most e xc e lle nt of U ie sciafces. And, in all their instructions, parents should ever liave this object in view, J|^'t their children should A 1 Xr^ !■> '$ 250 ^^^f^f wean ye by t/use Stones f iSJn-'Si^SS'?^"^. «■?"■»««'• 'Come, ye me lear 01 the Lord. What man is he that desireth«fo and loveth many days, that he may ^e goc^TS DliSm'™J.Si''d»^i»e4?« ^ i^at^e Sd h^VonXThem' Ttf =" '" 'f?" "^ a similar iind which in r«nS.t„f ,? ■^^'^ *">'*'"8 »' f- • TJhB summer's heat, the winter's cold. 1 he seasons all proclaim; '"m \^f *^^ ^^^^"^ various scenes unfol V « #^*i,i">sgoodne^ still thesame.' seventh day. An^^ristW Skbb^ [fa stn "n^^ memorial to uiof W > "« wrought for us three hL^f,|gL^'^ l"? °y .yh'f G°d ^and from the darkness of'^^^^t^^^f u b »S*CV< i . * Come, ye vill teach you desireth^life, pod? Keep eaking guUe, nd pursue it.' e other side to Israel o. J anything of e> or design, nd a hiemo- e many s Day un Jwethlcno 1 - are many sign and a Sabbath o( irael, and a lorie in the ed on the sign and a Christ has nd by His them, and them, are v^hich God vering our privileges Sketches of Swiss Scenery. as I we enjoy above heathen lands. And if our children only understood these things aright, there is not one of them but would join. gratefully in the sentiment of Watts' hymn — *JLord, I ascribe it to thy grace, J And not to chance, as others do^ " That I was bfom of Christian race, .And not a heathen- or a Jew.' ^And if you enter our churches, and join in their services, ^ou will find in them signs and memorials of the Lord's goodness. In the Sacrament of Baptism you have a sign of the sinfulness that cleaves to our nature, and of the cleanshig which God has provided few us in the blood of Christ. And in the Sacrament of the Supper you have a s^gn, and a memorial too, of the utter helplessness of the smner to make atojiement for his sin to -God, and the ""iness of the provision which God has made in Christ - all who trust in Him. May every reader .of the ildren's Hour know what it is to be washed in the blood of Jesus, and to eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink His blood, that they may have eternal life ! SKETCHES OF SWISS SCENERY. •-^^fe . BY THE REV. J. THOMSON, PAISLEY. '?;(IEAR VIEW OF THE BERNESE ALPS — THE MlJRREN. FTER descending from the Righi, and enjoy- ing a delightful sail to the eastern end of the Lake of Lucerne, we returned in the evening to the town^of tliat name. Next morning ( Friday, 24th August), about five clock, we- were roused from our slumbers by the intolerable din of the church bells, soundmg again and again, as if they '«%. 25a I I h 7^ •^ ■J Sh/cAei 0/ Swiss Scenery. were rung by unquiet spirits, who were unable to rest quietiy m their beds, and who were therefore resolved that nobody dse should rest. There wLe many evidences besiSs this, of our being now in a Pop'sh town. Its narrow streets and dilapidated houses its dirt and wretchedness, contrasted strikingly wfth the beauty of nature on the land and on the lake Tn admiring Thorwaldsen's celebrated ^culpture-a gigantic figure of a hon cut out of the solid 'rock, -a^ friend callfed our attention to a garden close at hand, but over growa with weeds, like the garden of the sluggard There rr^,t'f ? "^r i!^^ ^^^^' bearing the in! cript on^ Le Jardin du Lion,'-the garden of the lion. But it ^ight rndeTonsr'"'"^ '"'' ^''" ^'''^ ^^^ 'garden oTfhe • .Having reached Interlaken on Saturday evening and enjoyed a quiet Sabbath there, and listened to two ^ble and earnest discourses by the Rev. Mr. Forbes orParis we prepared on Monday morning. to take a n arer S of the Bernese Alps. From the windows of our hot^r we had a splendid view of the Jungfrau (young woman or virgin), of its accompanying Mlberhiln, and manJ other lofty peaks all clad in their magnificent mamles of pure snow, and adorned with glitterin| glaciers flowing t:"^^ ''' ^^"^ ^^^^"^^ °^ ioLr-of-pfari.-^ After a rapid drive of about six or seven miles alona the banks of the Whjte Liitschine, we reached tS^^ of Lauterbrunnen. Our path lay along a narrow fforge amid rocks and hills, many of which fre from ToooTc; • 1500 feet high. The inhabitants of the village never see the sun m wmter, except for a short time daily abou[ twelve o'clock, m consequence of the height and steep ness of the intervening hills. After a walk of about a 1^^'k /n'^^?^^ ?^ weU-known S^audl>acA, a cascade ftlfn 1 \f '''. ^r" ^ P'-e^^ipitous rock, 'about 1000 ff !! L A^'g.^^- As the volum e of water is nit very greats It iSiK)on turned iiito spray, forming beautiful rainbows able to rest 3re resolved were many in a Popish houses, its y with the lake. In —a gigantic , — a friend d, but over- ird. There ■iption, « Le iut it might rden of the ^ening, and two able s, of Paris, learer view our hotel, tig woman, and many It mantles ers flowing of-pearl. — iles, along the village •ow gorge, 1 looo to • age never aily about ind steep - f about a I cascade out loop ery great, , rainbows 1 "■ii M S ^- m b] g< Sc f &it , \ v^' x A] M'' Sketches of Swiss Scenery. 255 in the glancing , jays of the sun, and wafted to and fro by the wind, on the face of the rock, like a scarf of gossamer threads, 6r a transparent veil of the finest lace. So it is described by Goethe — * Streams from the high, steep, rocky wall. The purest fount, in clouds of spraV, , Like silvePdust '' " - It veils the rock in rainbow hues ; And, dancing down with music soft. Is lost in air.* _ . And .SO, too, Byron describes it — %' ' ■ ' " . * It flings its lines of foaming light along, .|, And to afid froi like the pale courser's tail, The giant steed to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.' * ■. But'^lt was .tiine^ now to commence our ascent of the Murren, which we did much in the same style as before;- It was a stiff pull of nearly three hours ; but at every upward step, we had splendid views of the Bernese Alps on our left ; and it seemed as if they Vere always becom- ing higher and vaster, the more we ascended. 'We were separated from them merely faft the deep and narrow ravine, in which the village is: situated. On ascending about 2000 feet or more, ancT looking down from that giddy height, the village seemed to be almost beneath our feet; so that a stone might have been dropped upon one of the houses, without almost* touching the side of m piecipice. But what chiefly arrested attentions was the raAgnificent mass of mountains to the soutl\, with then- vast robes of perpetual snow,, which were as,smod5i and white as plaster of Paris, or the covering of a brides- ' cake. And then'^ey seemed so very near, that we felt M if we could almost strike tibir sides*with.4 stone. 0h the top of the Miirren^our height was nearly 6000 feet ; but there were the -Jungfr^u and her companions, close at hand, and towering up to the heavens at least 7000 . ../ ' . ' ■ ' ■« ' • ' I- . f ■•• ^i. Sketches of Swiss Scenery. ^ liU^ nf 'f w""^"" "f- ^°^ ^"d then we heard the edhoi of h> ^^^^^"^h^«' like thunder, rousing the ^^ 1 the mountains. It was a strange and solemn s«y was cloudless, and the sun shone in his strength E 3 1^^°"^' 7^ ourselves were oppressed with the U crops tittx^:^ ^^ '^^ T'"^^ ^^^dure and the ricn crops ot golden gram around us. m gazmg upon these vast masses of rock— 'Aln. c^e\lT '°''^ ^"^ '^^^^ ^°^« it .^ to be ! Men conie and go upon its surface; and the works of rrln hat may have withstood tiie blasts of ceZriesarTat' •thf e^rrema'^rl? *^^ ^^^°- °^ deTtSnTbu whtt'^fs the "^L^IV' >' '\' ''/A^^^^^. ./M.>^.. For me loot ot all the Swiss mounta ns, and" on all their glaciers, .you see immense' blocks of granite thous^ds ^'oy%nf^\i^y^^j' *' P«' -P-»^ «o poetic Til? V^i '*?'"«'"■">• soUd lands, MiecloucU,lhty Chang, thtimelves and go.' .. : heard the rousing the md solemn :ially as the is strength, ity to these ied with the re and the )ck— 'Alps 5 presented upon the be ! Men ks of men, ries, are at ctionj but mingly as mountains en God at mgs. For h is being agents of are being 3wn.' At all their thousands ind many oving ice. iciers are pounded •^ery sum- >utinuaJly inents to 10 poetic u' Sketches of Swiss Scenery. 257 On this subject, even Darwin says: 'The wonder is, listening through the night to the never-ceasing rattle oi descending stones on the Andes of America, that the mountains stand so long under this incessant and irre- sistible power.' And an ancient naturalist said long ago : 'Thatnhere is such a constant waste, that but for some " compensating process [now called upheaval], the whole surface of the earth must, in the long run, be worn away, and sink beneath the waves of the sea.' * Look, then, upon the earth beneath,' on which you tread so firmly, and which seems as if it would last for ever. Ah ! how true is it, that this firm earth ' is waxing old like a garment; and that, by and by, it will be thread- bare, and entirely worn out, and cast aside as useless ! * The earth, and dl the works that are Aherem, shall be burnt up.' And wherej^hen, shall we be t where shall we find a fitting habitation for etemief? Let us not imagine that, because ^11 things have continuecf al^they were from the creation, they will continue so for ever. In reality they have not continued as they wke at first j for did not the Flood sweep away the ungodly? and does not geology show that this globe has laidergone successive •destructions, and successive re-cr^a^tions ? Therefore, - when the last destruction comes, may w# all be found m ^he only sure Refuge,-^t. Him who is God's eterpal Son, and man's elder Brother; that Man, who is the only hiding-place from the storm, and the only covprt from the tempest of coming wrath and vengeance. * Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath: for the heavens shall vanish jtway like smoke, and the earth shall wax 0I4 like a garment, and they th^ , dwell therein shall die in like manner : but My salvation SHALL BE FOR EVER, AND MY RIGHTEOUSNESS SHALL N#r BE ABOLISHED* (Isa. If. 6). 1 <■ !•" ) % \>* ■ ft ' 1 \ • .^' 1 , ' '^ ^ « ' < ' rf ^ ^ ta <» ' " * .11 • 1 » ^SS ■ _.. •:.>r:r£- *.-.', 258 Sfories about Birds. ,♦!•, STORIED ABOUT BIRDs! THE TOMTIT. IHE pretty little bird I am goirig to tell Vou I about, the rieatly shaped blue-hided 11^ •fHenir' ""'^ ""'* "^^^^^ ^^ my young <;ePm,-na f« fl.i^?'- "'"™^'^ '^ ^'^^ ^0^ SP^y to4prav seeming to find it impossible to be still • now seen on J ^ff- ■ ". *■. ■ "" ,1 tv s. tell you id tomtit, ny young i to^spray, seen .on Lttitudes j len again ed. which Stories about Birds, <.^- 259 /Biose .little tits also devour many insects anH in wilder do not despise the crumbs scattered oSde veSL'r^f /fl:?^^''^^^'' °"^ February day, some S T'fK?^^-^ "^^ bright-eyed boy of four years old stood at^the window of a country house watchine the feathery flakes as they slowly but surely co^red u| Ae ground, and resfed otf the leafless branches ofthe t?ees Tamlvfotvic' "T.^^^ ''^'^' "^^* were flock ng eagerly to pick up the crumbs which ¥e had scattered outsidethe wmdow for thei^ benefit. Blackbirds thmshes hTr^v^^K^'^^^' '""^^'^ ^^ ^™^ in numbers b"S ti tand^'^oi', T' ^°^ "\1 ""T '° ^^^' -sLthe lo„! tit , and, Oh ! here comes blue-head,' was heard a^ain and again uttered with shouts of d?|ght. Day? pasfed the snow still lay thick, id a shif frost se't in, when one morning, .th^ wmdows of the schoolroom bein^eft foS^ blue-headed tomtit flew in, and was found ?om fortably perched on^ floweripot in a comer of the room As a punishment for His curiosity, I suppose he wTs caught and put into.a cage, to Ae \reaMoy' of uTde ^^mA^^'^'''^ never^aryi/watci;!:;^ For some time it flew about the cage very impatientlv S'^Bfr^^ wires^untiHt was ffaredTt SS Itself By degrees it (juieted a little, and the occupants t^i^s:^^:^^ ''^' ^-^^ ^^--^- filfc/h T' ^" ^°" "^^^ °«^ side orth6 room^was numh^ nf fl'^^'^^^ '*^^^' ^'^ which was pfecea a great ^^Zac ? ""7^'' ''' ^^- "T^^ bi^d having become ^ U^ f'u'u .^^"^^ ^^ directed towards the cage, Td lo and behold, the tomtit was no longer there! Not fort^' t"l^'^' T^.'*^' 2«^ ^^^ *°* «"^* his idl of com- fort at aU ; so, finding ^ere was no egress by the door ^Hnn?nf .r^ u^'t^^x'^ P'°^^ "9 difficultjyn qS slipping through theVres, and flitting acroiPthe room to theHower stage, where, perched on the top brLchTf Bd or i 1 -\0 4 „ v^ .-.f^ 5" 36o Stories about Birds. I \ ■ I "~ a large fuschia plant, he looked around him complacentlv Uttle Chariie was dehghted, at 'blue-head's' cleverness t'he ir^r't^'^ ^^"^' ^ ^"°^^^ *e freS of Wr^?^;; 7^^ '^ was feared he might be attracted too near the.fireplace, and thus meet an untimelV end.. But foe Ztt^TT^'-' 'blue-head' kver went near The amin^st SI L '' ""T ^'^ ^^^P"^ ^^PP^^g ^bout «S??^' ^^^^' ?°'^^"' ^^^y» returning to the cage at night, and flittmg out and^iK it all day for food which consisted chiefly of hemp-seed;^crumbs, Ld meal' bS 7Z.T.^ ""^'T^.^ '^'^"S ^"y^i"g »" tbe cage, but: whTr. J. ' '""^ ^^""t^' ^^ *° °"^ °f the flo^r^ots In/if ''P^"^'^ i' ^y ^ ^^^^ t^P' t^Pi then off fo^ ZSh^ f^PP^L' K*'"^^ .""^ »'^^^' ^» o«e ^ould have SfheH iT""''^ ^''''''^- J' ^"^'"^ 'l"^te tame, never nLw mol -Tf i7 "'''I'' ^"^ wearing accustomed to its new mode of life, making no effort to escape. Blue-head Zfi^^T^^ source of interest, and became 4 favourite nf tt 1" ?°* "^T^^ <^^^' ^^^4 been ap inmate of^the schookoom for nearly three weeks) it ^s found moping, Its pretty feathers all ruffled up, and its bright ^l^thrf^"^^' Everything was done that could be ?rZ V°^ *° °^^" ^^^^'' b^tstiU it drooped and drooped, never entenng the cage, and refusing food, still sitting amongst the flowers, till shortly before its deith it hopped >wn on the floor behind the stage, apparently bbeying an mstinct to die in the dark, andtiiire^S^e tlexr .day ; blue-head ' was found dead. Little CharUe was S ^^^nH 1 "^^A ^^ T" T^^ ^"S^ ^ «^^e for his iitue pet, and buned it under a laurel-bush. The^ tomtit builds its nest in holes in the wall, or in nZber^e^s.'^''' ^^ *'"^' "'^ *^ T^^ ^^^^ * Two children, playing beside a merry chattering brook, were startled by seeing a pair of piercing black eyes watching them from out of a hole in the Sunk oi nplacently, ful exploit, cleverness, freedom of tracted too end.. But nt near the >ing about le cage at 3od,- which ial. Birdie cage, but loyt^er-pots, en off for ould have line, never med to its Blue-head favourite s the dis- ip inmate vas found its bright could be oped and food, still s death it pparently J the Jlext arlie was e for his i^all, or in he lays a battering ng black tnmk oi * Stories alout Birds. ^261 an old willow-tree which overhung the brook. ^Leaving their play, they crept slowly up to thfe place, when out flew a little blue tit, and, on further exploring, its nest was found. The children left the pretty eggs unrivolested, and^were repaid by Soon seeing birdie reUim, hop back ^u° i5,i?°^^' ^!?^ °°^^ °^°^^ nestle down; on the eggs. 1 he; children often returned to play beside the brook, and day by day the little black-eyed birS watched them and appeared rather to like their presence; but, sad to say, ere the little birds were fully fledged, a ci^iel boy discovered the nest, and carried ofi" the young ones to meet, no doubt, an untimely end. In the spring days which are now closte at hand, you will often hear the curious notes of this littfe tit It is not unlike the noise made by the sawyer at his worL> and although tojus the note seems a monotonous oJe, still It IS blue-head^' way of expressing joy and rendering praise. He dofes his best; and the music of a gratefiU heajt is liot ta be despised. And now, after admiring the beauty of its form, and the colour of its feathers we wiH bid our little friend « adieu,' agreeing with the ppet s declaration, — ^' *There?s not a leaf withm the bower, There's not a bird upon the tree, There's not a dew-drop on the flower, But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee.' k H. C^, % ^a«u .i a 262 Bessie and Isabel. BESSIE AND ISABEL; OR, PRIDE COMES BEFORE A FALL. CHAPTER I.— ISABEL'S PARTY. AMMA,' said Bessie Gordon, one Saturday momiag, 'Harriet Gray wishes very much to go to the Sun- day school.' *And why can't she go?' asked her naother. * Because she has bp mueh to do on Saturday evenings. She' says there is al- ways a gathering of work waiting for her ajid that she can't get to bed till late, and then she's quite tired on Sabbath mornings You know what a number of httle brothers and sisters she has.' v ""/crb * Yes dear,' said Mrs., Gordon, ' HarrieUiust>e l^t busy. But make haste and speak^ut; for I knbwISu have some plan m your head.'^ ; ^ 'Well then, niamma, I- was thinking I mi^ht go over to help Hamet for an hour or so— may I?' 'Yes, you may; but cbnsider whether you would like to keep It up. You h^ many duties ^at home and your time for play is nd long.' ' ^ f JP 0/ ^""^^ r°^ *^^*»' *^"^^ ^^^^^«' tho"^ she Was as fond oC sport ^s any one could be. * Hmiet is verv tells us of She often asks me questions thaS* can't answer. I'll see her to-day in school, and te/her Aa she may expect me this evening ' ""^S^ ^^^ The little gkl went off^'feelingVite glad. She was a ■ good and useful child of about Welve yea^s of ^eT?nd Btttsie and Isabel. t63 3rd on, one irriet Gray to the Sun- go ?' asked h to do on there is al- ng for her, 11 late, and I mornings, e brothers st^e kld soldier s,' he con- idyati^.' eddening. Q person, i» mstead You're a blind, stupid fellow, or you'd see that it's my beautiful French white silk that papa bought at — ' She was interrupted by loud laughter and clapping of hands. * You've said white/ you've said white/' they cried; ' pay your forfeit' Isabel was now quite out of temper. * It's not fair,' she screamed. * Frank, you're a deceit- ful, ill-natured boy, and I'll never play with you again.' The forfeit had to be paid, however. The play went on, and soon the time for returning the forfeits came. Isabel, now partly recovered, was chosen as the one who should say what each child was to do before getting back his or her property. She knelt down blindfolded ; and each article was held up in turn, with the question, •What is the owner of this fine— this very fine — this superfine thing to do?' Now Isabel, lijce an ill-natuted littie girl as she was, thought it would be great fun to give her companions things that would be hard to per- form, and would make them a Iq^ghing-stock to the rest j but she herself wanted to have something very easy and pretty. Her forfeit was a beaufiful necklace that had belonged to her mamma ; but how should she know it when held up ? However, just as the first article yasi' brought forward, she heard somebody whisper, 'IsnVit lovely ? It must have cost a great deal ;' so she thought that must apply to the necklace, and said that the owner was to play a 'tune on the piano. Among this juvenile company, Isabel wks considered quite a grand performer, though her teachers complained sadly of her carelessness. Thinking herself safe now, she did not care what ridiculous offices she assigned to the others. When the last forfeit was held up, she puzzled herself to invent something specially laughable. At last she said, * The owner of this fine — this very fine — this superfine thing, is to go round the room three times, on hands and feet, wearing a fool's cap, and with hair tied up in a tail.* There was a shout of amusement ; the bandage was 268 £essie and Isabel. ift"' taken off, and, toher dismay, she saw, wlat indeed she nchly deserved, that this last article wis her Vwn 1 -The """f/ w' u^^^ ?^« ^^d overheard- the whiSS wai a gold chiin belonging to one of the older boSiTJh^i had not noticed among the forfeits. There waTnoheb * for the matter ; so ^he had to get through hTawkwwd feat as best she could, much to the injury of hePc^s and of the new silk dress of which she was so vS' thing sat fremblmg aU over, like one of the aspen leave! Jw S ^^if • ^t" ^^ '^y ^d sensitive!^ Sie pirt me JhrSket? ''' "^'' "^'^ '^"^ ^^-- '^ogiy. ^ bo^rdset'r'^fS' "^^' ^"^^ 'You must try ; no- nof^Sytpfc^nr' '" '"'^'""'^ '"' ^'^ "°"^^ . Frank held the case open in his hacrf^d twirled it about as he spoke. It fell, and the ^Bl smShed J Oh 7 Picjire !-mammaVpictuf^lReSe^^^^^^ me ! exclaimed the poor little girl, starting forward. * It's ^es^oyed for ever I Oh, what, what khall I do !' and she h.T m""!'' ''°'- J"'* ^^? ^ ^"^tle was heard in the hall. Mr. Lawson was speaking to somebody, and luggage was bemg earned upstairs. Jn a few minutes the doir wa^ opened, and he entered, followed by a lady Htt JlS^/°.l ^'^^'^'' ^" ^^^» ' ^^'^'« y°"r ^"^'t come a htUe sooner than we expected.' And then he went down ag^ leaving his sister with the chHdren. She had a kind, plea^nt face; and she kissed her sTr^."^"^ """t^ T f ^^t^r ^ly. that they were aJmos n?on?; li ^ '*^^*^ '^""^ *' *^^ P^y ^th a smile. Don t let me stop your plays,' she said. ' I love to see young people abusing themselves ; and though I may ' n\ ^ wv .u*^"*' "^ ^^"^ «««« ^th' you all the samT But what's the matter ? Why is this little one \iyS^ and this picture ?, I fear some accident has happened ' SOI ihe t indeed ske own ! The isperi was g^ s, which she^Y was no help er awkward f her curls, as so vain. ! poor little spen leaves nd the part reeable. * Do give ^ ist try ; no- t she would 1 twirled it smashed. ■ trusted to 'ard. * It's I' and she ard in the ad luggage the door y- nt come a irent down dssed her ^e almost a smile. '' I love to igh I may the^same. jiying?— ►pened.' Baste and Isabel. «69 * It was my fault, aunt,' cripd Frank, who was really sorry for the mischief he had done. And in a few words ■he explained the affair. * Indeed, aunt,' said Isabel, thinking to excuse herself, * IVe come off nearly as badly myself. See, how spoiled my dress is!' ;^*, Miss Lawson looked grave and sorry. Jf * I fear, my dear children,' she said, * th&t^er all you have not spent a pkasant evening. Don't fret, my love,' she continued, taking Lizzie on her knee. ' Leave this broken treasure with me. Tell your mamma exactly how the accident happened ; and say that I will have a new glass put in it, and that then it will be as good as ever. I am sure she will not be angry with you.' ^ The child looked somewhat comforted ; and as the hour was now growing late, the company began to t^e leave. When they were gone, Miss Lawson helped to jmt things in order before retiring'to her room, though she was very tired. As she saw that lier niece was in a very unhappy humour, she thought it best to make no further remark that night. In the morning, Isabel was too tired to go to the Sunday school ; indeed, a very small excuse ws^s enough to keep her away. , She sat lazily on the sofa, reading a stqry-book, which, even on a week-day, would have been unfit for one so young. Her aunt had seen it lying about, and knew ^ery well that it was no reading for the Sabbath, at least. * Did your papa give you that book to read, IsabefPt^ she asked. * Oh dear, no, aunt ! Papa never has time to mind what books I read. I borrowed it from a girl in school ; and she has plenty more to lend.' 'My dear,' said her aunt, 'your papa wishes me to look after you and Frank in everything. Now, I don't think that a nice book for a little girl. You h^ better return it to-morrow ; and, in future, don't get a loan of anything withotit consulting me. You shall be at no loss for interesting reading, my love ; I promise you that.' ayo Bfssu and Isabel. \ Of course, Isab>l had to close the book. She thought her aunt very unreasonable, but dared -not dispute her authonty ; and soon she was quite engrossed in a book which Miss Lawsc^n had brought down. She was in- telligent enough ; but her mind sadly needed direction 'i CHAPTER II. E COUNTRY DRIVE. On Monday, Miss Lawson drove over to the school to call for Isabel. Shte wished that they should have a long dnve together, and had brought some cold dinner in the carnage. School was not over when she arrived, so she had to wait a whil^. Isabel was just sitting down to her music lesson in the same room, and as she was very anxious to show off fine playing before her aunt, she got through her piece^ better than usual. The teacher then produced a new piece— a duet— and said that Bessie Cxordon could pUy it .with her; so Isabel was sent for her, m order to let Miss Lawson hear the air. Now, Isabel l^ad not been On lery good terms with her cousin th^t d^y. She had talked at her a great deal m boasting to th^ other giris about all the grandeur and delights of her baU on Saturday evening ; though, indeed, poor child, she Ifnew very well that the latter at least was untrue ; but shd wanted to make Bessie repent of not having been thefe, and to dazzle Harriet, who, she knew, had only an hunfible home. She was disappointed, how- ever, to see that it did not seem to produce any effect She was jealou^, too, because Harriet sat beside Bessie* and sometimes passed her arm round her waist • and now she wa3 not pleased at having to summon her cousin to the drawing-iroom.to play before her aunt. Bessie came in,blushiijg a little. Isabel seemed to have no notion of introducing her ; but Miss Lawson stood upl and shook hand$ with her kindly. * My little unknown relative,' she said, ' I am very glad "■J- Bessie and Isabel. ayi She thought dispute her d in a book >he was in- direction. e school to have a long irfner in the ved, so she lown to her e was very int, she got jacher then that Bessie as sent for terms with great deal, indeur and gh, indeed, It least was ent of not she knew, nted, how- any eflfect. ide Bessie, ^aistj and her Cousin t. Bessie ) have no stood up, I very glad to' see you. Your mother and I were good friends long ago, and I hope we shall be again.' Bessie sat down at the piano with her teacher, and went through her part very nicely. • * I trust, Isabel,' said .the lady, ' that you will try to learn this piece equally well. I should like very much to see you as careful.' Isabel was mortally offended, for she thought herself far superior to Bessie. * We are going to have a long drive,' said Miss Lawson. * Perhaps, Isabel, your cousin would like to come with us.' * I don't think she cares to come anywhere with me,' replied her niece. * We Will ask her,' said Miss Lawson ; and she did so. * I should like it very much indeed,' cried the little girl, looking quite bright * I am greatly obliged to you \ but unless mamma knew,; I fear — * ' Oh, she always has some excuse !' interrupted Isabel. • I Suppose, Bessie, you would rather walk widi Harriet?' * This excuse seeins to be a very good one,' said Miss Lawson ; * but perhaps we can meet it. Your home is quite in our way, and we might call in and ask your n^amma.' Bessie was delighted ; but Isabel whispered to her aunt — * I'm sure I wish she wasn't coaming, for I'm half out with her.' ' Hush, hush, Isabel dear, don't letrtne hear such a word ; it is unkind and unchristian-like. Your cousin seems to be a very nice littie girl ; and if there has been any cool- ness between you, I'd like to see it made up at once.' They called on Mrs. Gordon. She was very glad t6 see her old friend again, and willingly gave her daughter leave to take the drive. ■ The little party had a pleasant drive ; but Isabel pre- ferred talking to her aunt than to her cousin; indeed it was her way„ that, when any grown-up person was pre- sent, she seemed to despise the company of girls of her own age. Miss Lawson .w|s much pleased with Bessie. * She is a veiy modest litQe girl,' she said, when Bessie 273 Sessie and habel. ■f •. m had taken, her leave ; * and sweet-tempered and obliging, too, I arfi sure. She appears to hav^ jnade good pro- gress at learning, and I was delighted with her intelligent remarks, and her clear replies to a few Bibl^ questions which I asked her. I would not say she waS^uick ; yet I dare say she always knows her lessons well.' * Yes,' said Isacbel ; * I don't think she ever gets a bad inark ; but then she takes a long time to learn her lessons, and that's great trouble.' ' As yet Miss Lawson knew nothing of how Isabel learned her lessons, nor had she any idea of how jealous- minded she was, else, perhaps, she would not have praised Bessie so much just at this time, when there was no great friendliness between them. But Isabel, feeling guilty, was sure that her aunt meant to reflect on her ; she thought that the many bad marks must have been seen, and she was vexed at her weak side being dis- covered. There was to be a school examination soon, — premiums were to be given ; and she knew that Bessie was working hard to win some. To please her mother was Bessie's one great object j but, besides that, she understood the value of education for its ^fg^ sake, and she also knew that her friends were not rich, and that she migl^t have/to earn money for herself some day. Isabel had nevfflr got any prizes ; she was too idle to study for them ; y«, on the day of distribution she would have liked well enough the honour of carrying home some hand- somely bound volume. She now resolved that this time she would be victori- ous. We are sorry to say that her motive was a very bad one, — such as no little boy or girl should ever encourage, for God's blessing cannbt follow it, — it was jealousy of Bessie, and a wish to disappoint her. She longed to win the very premiums for which her cousin was striving most anxiously, and so have her vanity pleased by letting everybody see she was the superior. We shall set whether Isabel had any reason to rejoice. (7i? be continued.) d obliging, good pro- - intelligent ^ questions quick; yet gets a bad her lessons, ,♦ low Isabel ow jealous- . not have n there was bel, feeling ct on her; have been being dis- ion soon, — that Bessie her mother s that, she p sake, and .nd that she ay. Isabel to study for 1 have liked some hand- be viotori- s a very bad encourage, jealousy of nged to win triving most by letting i shall se^ > 1 REeOGNITie>f. /* 1 1 i I i-- .• ■ V i * • * \ ^ < - ■. ! a i 1 i * - 1 1 /^ \ ne wr sai i » ^ tv ■ in liv • oflf 'H Dc ma fro : > 1 in 1 1 1^ ^ * # y it,' we' of old ma ! * 1 i . / )■ w \^ , Found Afloat a75 FOUND AFLOAT. « THB AUTHOR OF 'THE LITTLE CAPTAIN,' 'MISSMATTV/ ETC ETC. » » CHAPTER VI. HE family that Harrison had taken ^ such an interest in having arrived safely ift England^ the gentleman made his appearance, not many days after, at the little village ^of Hurstcliff, and was directed to Ned Gaskin's cottage. That worthy vete- ran was sitting by the fire listening to Madge Dartmor reading Alfs last letter . on his reaching Madras, an act which she performed daily; for, though they knew every Word of it by heart, the old people were never tired of hearing those expressions of fond affection wntten down by their boy. In the middle of this plea- sant task, they were interamted by a gentleman stepping m at Ae open door, whPlsked if one Edward Gaskin lived there; whereupon l