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The following talefl were originally intended for the benefit of mine own class in the Sabbath School — and for whom they were expressly written — but having received great encouragement from many Christian friends, I humbly submit them to the public. As example is generally more forcible than precept, I have composed these tales from scenes in mine own life, in every one of which I have been an actor or eyewitness. I can only trust that they may answer the end for which they were written, viz : to impress on the ^ minds of the young, the danger incurred by lightly ^steading God's holy kws, and humbly do I pray that He will bless the consideration of them to my dear scholars, that they may be led by the Holy Spirit to shun the errors they are intended to point out, and so restrain all their evil passions, that they will fear to break one of the least of these commandments, lest they come under the condemna- tion of our Saviour's declaration, '*That they have broken all." It how have rehea have that t to wo bor's as ma in ]'nt< meml thoug which itself. apur genen anddi conseq of the the de minds, holy c< «ach, I TO MY PUPILS: It is with sincere regret, 1117 dear pupils, that I find how listless is your way of repeating, Sunday after Sun- day, the lessons appointed for your instruction. Tou have from your earliest infancy been accustomed to rehearse the Tea Qommandments, without once, I dare say, considering their application to yourselvos. You have doubtlessly thought, as many young people do, that it was not likely you would set up a graren image to worship, or swear, steal, murd«r, or cov«t your neigh- bor's goods. But you have forgotten that God seeth not as man seeth, and that all these things may be done in intent, though not actually by deed. You must re- member that a deed is but the consummation of the thought, and that iho sin is more in tho «vii ^ItO^hts which led to the commissioir-ariQe deed, than the deed itself. Few commit theft, murder, or adultery oa tlie spur of the minute; although there may be excepttoa^ generally speaking, these crimes havo been premoditated, and dwelt upon, till the heart has become hiutlened to the consequences likely, to accrue, and with a lull knowledge of the awful sib nourished so long, it has found vent in the deed, Now I am so anxious to impress this on your minds, and show yo« how liable idl are to break God'-s holy commandmeuts, that I propose, by a short tale on «ach^ drawn from scenes I have myself witnessed* to TO MY PUPILS. prove the truth of what I awert. This mode may be the means of awakening your attention, and I tnitt with God's blessing, it may lead you all to eoDsider more earnestly the sin ncrea^ by lightly regarding theae commandments. We will commence with the second^ •* Thou fthalt not make to thyself any graven image." The first is so fully understood by you all, that I feel there is no necessity for illustrating it You know that there is but one God^yeu also read ]n|poar Bible the judgments which those nations brought on themselves, who, forsaking the wornhip of the true God, bowed down to wood and stone. You who poBsesB the inestimable privilege of living in a christian land, where yon can without fear and trembling worship the great and living God ; who on each succeeding Sabbath are invited to come into the couits of his house, could hardly fall info the error of worshipping any other God. But the second commandment, which forbids us to make to ourselves any earthly idol, partakes so much of the precept con- tained in the fir^t, that I will now endeavor to show you the danger of setting onr affections so firmly on an earthly -object, thus forgetting God and provoking him to punish us by depriviug ud of onr cherished idoK We - are told in this commandment that God is a jealous God and will visit our sins even to the fourth generation— what an awful warning to every parent I Who could look upon their innocent children and not tfemble at the contemplation of being the instruments of brining, l^ their willful sin, such a curse as this on them! Asd yet how many cases of drunkenness, disease and insanity do we meet with in our daily walks through life, as trans- mitted by parents to children, to be by them yet further handed down to future generations. It calk indeed for TO MY PUPILS. your serious coosideration, my dear girls, and I will nuw endeavour to abnv you, in the case of a dear young friend of mine own, the sin of leaning too much on an arm of flesh, thus giving to the creature what alone is due to the Oreator. As I wish to make these tales in- teresting as well as instructive, I will, as far as limt permits, describe the incidents which took place, era this young person was led by God's grace to acknowledge the justice of her punishment About a mile from the beautiful village of Ilfracombe, in Devonshirei England, thera resided a gentleman with whose family we had been intimate acquaintances for years. Poss e ss e d of an almost princely fortune, he spent his time chiefly on his own est'ito, consoling his tenantry in trouble and lejoicing with them in prosperity. He was, indeed, one of nature's noblemen, aud well do I re- member the evening on which he brought home his young bride. Never had the bells of Rodmosko Church rung out a more joyous peal, than the one which wel- comed with their sweet chimes, the lord of the manor to the princely home of his forefathers. All the villagers in holiday attire had assembled at the park gatee, their children bearing baskets of flowers, with which to strew the path of their beloved hindlord. Every garden had been stripped of its richest blossoms to do honor, to this occasion, and much happiness might have been augured for the young bride's future, from the bed of roses over which ^ passed into her husbanhun th« danger of making unto himself an idol to worship, ihus tausing ti ' trauogression ofthe Second Com mandfrlent, which for* . bids us to bow down before an earthly Ood. I bitter' e with God's rs with ' dread [n the i^tten found ig rod» bowed ler real d alooe deepest hmoDt; ved her It how iswel'ed ive, be^ i \x«k so THIRD COMMANDMENT. olonged ier rest, lakehei* iguflty, inger of Ausing K rich for- "3 id U que you to a lon( fixe< you fori thei appi own verj mot] His for a My grou Har: alwi I se< beau thiol feel I brea that THIRD COMMANDMENT. " Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vaiuj for God will not hald him guiltless who taketh his name in vain." Kt Dear Girls : This commandment ie perhaps more fre- quently broken than any other, it is most grievous to hear young people so often call upon the sacred nam<> of God, either to attest the truth of what they assert, or because they have so long indulged in this mode of speaking that it has become a fixed habit with them. But do you think that God will hold you guiltless? Surely all who use his sacred name forget that for such a breach of his commandment he will certainly bring them to judgment. I will now endeavor to make this truth apparent to you by relating an event which happened in mine own home, and which caused me much mental suflfering. When I was between twelve and thirteen years of age I wa« very much attached to a young boy, who, having lost his mother, used almost always to spend his vacations at our house. His father was a great friend of mine and consequently Hany, for so this young boy was called, was always a welcome guest. My sisters and I were each allowed a small plot of garden ground to cultivate according to our different tastes, and as Harry, like myself, was passionately fond of flowers, we were always together, either digging, watering or planting. I think I see him now, with his handsome face, his large dark eyes beaming with intelligence, and his dark hair clustering in thick curls around his small, well-shaped head. No one could feel dull in his presence; his merry, joyous laugh was ever breaking forth, and he was so obliging and willing to assist, that it was impossible not to love him. But Hany had one Id THIRD COMMANDMENT. ; I- serious fault, and that w»s breaking the third coninuinduient. The sacred name of God was but too frequently introduced into his conversation: « It is true by God," or, '' God knows it," or, <e^ ^ there a scene met my sight which I shall never forget. Harry was lying on the sofa, my dear mother was vainly trying to staunch the blood which gushed in streams from his mouth; his eyes were staring wildly open, but iio sign of life was there. The doctor arrived in a few minutes, niy heatt seemed as if it stood still, till I should hear the drendful fiilt. << Dead," I exclaimed, and before he could echo my words, I had found relief from my agony and horror in insensibility. It was not until the next day, thait I learned from my brother the particulars of this sad event, tt appeared that Harry— dear, wilful, courageous Harry, had insisted upon leaping his horse ^^ over a ditch, against my brother's advice, who knew that the horse was not trained for leaping; as my father never allowed ^ young visitors to ride any but the gentlest honies, and tlie Strictest orders were given to the groom to that ieffect. Tl^e horse at first reftised to stir, but with a stroke from Harry's whip, and the usual expression, « By God I will make you," trembling on his lips, th6 horse was urged forward. Not being able to clear the ditch, of which my brother had warned him, Harry was thrown forward, his head coming in contact with the stump of a felled tree which lay half across the ditch. Words would be inadequate to express my horror at this recital, aggravated as it was by the bitter knowledge that he had died with God's name on his lips, not with a cry for his mercy, but with his usual profane manner of taking that holy name in vain. 18 THIRD COMMANDMENT. I could not describe to you the agony I endured, the nightg of anguish I spent; how I hung over his coffin and prayed that God might have mercy upon him. Ho looked so beautiM as he lay shrowded, for his grave, there was no sign of the'violont way in which he had met his death, he had died in the AiU enjoyment of his robust health, and decay had had no time to wither his young, fresh beauty. At last the morning came which was to remove him forever from our eyes. The solemn tolling of the muflSed bell, the white plumes of the hearse, the young gentlemen with their white hat-bands, scarfs and gloves, who were to be poor Harry's pall-boarors, are distinctly before my eyes, although a period of thirty yeara has elapsed since it took place. I had gathered all my white roses and placed them on his breast just as they closed his coffin. I could not shed a tear as it was borne from the room, my brain seemed seared with a red hot iron, his dying words rung in my ears; oh I what would I not have given to have recalled him I I could find comfort no where; all was the darkness of despair. Oh! my dear girls, will you not let this true tale be a warning to you? I never hear God's holy name taken in vain that this scene does not occur to me in all its harrowing bitterness. For years I never repeated the third commandment without a shud- der, and I can hardly express to you the feeling which oppresses me when I hear so many of the young boys of this city constantly making use of the sacred name of God in their games. Let me, then, in conclusion, my dear pupils, exhort you most affectionately to ponder seriously over this tale, and whenever you feel tempted to err, which God in his infinite mercy keep you from, ohl remember the sad fate of poor Harry, and God's express declaration that << He will not hold him guilfless who taketh his name in vain." •: FOURTH COMMANDMENT. << Remember the Sabbath Day to Keep it Holy." The Sabbath Day, my dear girls, as you all know, has been from the creation of the worM set apart as a day of rest firom labor. It was on this day that God rested from his work of creating the heavens and the earth, and commanded it to be kept holy unto himself. You learn in thiB commandment that God rested on it, blessed it, and hallowed it. The word sabbath signifies rest, and is the general term by which Sunday is signified. You have read how very strict the Jews were in the observance of this day, and should we be less so ? more espe- cially as it is celebrated by Christians as the one on which our blessed Saviour rose from the dead. In it we are forbidden to do any manner of work, but oh I how few there are who keep this commandment. How often Is it a day of weary toil to the noble horse, who is obliged to give his strength to those who seek the pleasures of sin on the Lord's Day. Rest is commanded for the cattle as well as for man, but from earliest dawn fiequently till midnight, do we see the streets filled with vehicles of all sorts, bearing the Sab- bath breakers to pleasure parties, ending, alasl too often, in the saloon, without a thought having crossed their minds all day that they have been breaking one of the commandments. A great many people think, that as long as they do not dance, play cards, or frequent places of public amusement, they have done nothing to break Grpd's express command to keep the day holy unto himself, but it needs not these things to render any of us guilty, and I will endeavor by a short tale, to prove to you, that the Sabbath Day can be desecrated although not one of theae'individual sins are committed: 20 FOURTH OOUMANDMBNT. f A widow lady, who has been dead for a great many years, had two daughters, twins, whom she loved most devotedly. Being the only surviving children of a large family, she unfor- tunately indulged them to excess; she could not endure to thwart their wishes, consequently the necessity of self control formed no part of their education. As they grew up selfish grati- fication was their only aim. Emily and Marion Yilliars loved their mother I dare say, but they never dreamed of giving up their will to hers, and as they advanced to womanhood and were introduced into society, which their beauty and rare talents were well calculat(!d to adorn, this vice became too palpably visible to be overlooked. Haughty to their superiors, insolent to their inferiors, they never made a friend. As Mrs. Yilliars' foolish indulgence had fostered all the evil of their nature, it was not to be expected that they would yield to her remonstrances as to the way they spent their Sabbath ; if they attended church the service was generally half over ere they pronounced themselves dressed to their satisfaction, and when there their conduct was light and frivolous in the extreme. Reverence for the House of God being such an Inherent principle in myself, I remember how awe-struck I used to feel to see thfese two girls, frittering away the sacred minutes in whisper- ing or gazing around on the congregation. I often used to wonder whether the thought, that God's eye was upon them, ever crossed their minds, but no one but their old nurse, privi- leged by her long years of servitude, ever dared to presume to take them to task for the heartless manner in which they usually spent this holy day. The time of which I write, We were not as you are, my dear girls, blessed in our clergy- 'liaan, be took very little pains to instruct the young members of his flock. There were no Sabbath Schools in our town, Consequently it was the more needed that religious instruction should be imparted at home. This gentleman was a very sliy man, and never visited and made himself known amongst his parishoners. But his sermons were beautiful, I never heard any one preach like him, when warmed with his subject he would carry his hearers thoughts from esorth to heaven ; it was impos- sible to hear him unmoved, 6r listen to the chaste and elegant language in which he cloth^ his subject, without feeling FOURTH OOMUANDMEKT. 21 ennobled by it Bui there his fluMsination ended, ont of his pulpit he was shj and uninteresting, evidently shrinking fimm notice, and apparently living in an ideal world of his own cre- ation. Had he been a different man, like the one who now lIUs his place (for he has long been numbered with the dead), the young members of his flock might hav6 been better Chria> tians. Still this was no excuse for the Misses Yilliars, who could not be Ignorant of the exceeding sinfulness of their con- duct in the House of God, although never seriously reproved by him, who certainly should not have overlooked such an open violation of the Sabbath. In the course of time theso two young g^rls were married, and they entered upon their new duties with the same indifTer- ence to the sacredness of the marriage tie as characterised all their other actions. I recollect how disgusted I felt, young aa I was, with the heartless manner in which they parted from^ their mother. Poor woman, surely in that hour she must have felt the ftiU sting of the injurious system of self indulgence which she had pursued with them. Her ambition was certain- ly gratified as far as mere worldly prosperity was considered, but the moral and religious principles of the chosen protectors of her daughters were never thought of; the sacred duiies of the marriage tie were nev^r discussed, so Emily and Marion YiU liars left the home of their , childhood without one sigh fbr duties unfulfilled; or a thought for the new ones to be Ailfi|Ued<. I cannot describe to you how grieved I felt for Mrs. YilUara ihat day. . I was a very young girl at the time, but I could not enjo;^ the festivities of that festive scene lil^e my companions. Jij heart was so sad in the midst of the splendoi^r, thinking of the bereaved mother sittiQg in silenoct and tears upstaln^ the only sad one amongst that joyous throng. I felt that nothing could excuse the heartless ingratitude of the two brides, and although I knew how fiulty, had been the system of their bring- ii^g Up, yet still, jifuroiy Mrs. Yilliars deserved some riiow of ail^tion from the objects of her mistaken kindness. T)ie ^ed-^ dinil; ^artywais qhlefly composed of young people, the filsters, being married at the same time, had, with their usual st^lflsh-, liess, insisted on the exclusion of all elderly people. '/.. ', After their departure we were to spend the iime until dinner 22 FOURTH OOMMiNDUENT. I wandering about the beautiful groundf, and in t^*^ evening we were to have a danco by moonlight on the velvet lawn, which had been freshly mown for the occasion. After aaj companiona had all separated into differ^at groups, each one on her own pleasure bent, I hastened up btairs, and taking advantage of always having been a great favorite with Mrs. Yilliars, used all my powers of persuasion to be allowed to drive her around the park in her pretty pony phaeton. The law of kindness had been so duly impressed upon our minds by our beloved mother, that any nelflsh means of enjoyment could ua -^ ^i' >1 us one iota of pleasure, and I feel sure that T ^'us fur kai>pier that afternoon, driving Mrs. Yilliars, than i sL pani'ns. whose merry shouts of laughter we could distinctly hear, ut, tve drove along the mar- gin of the lovely lake which ;:»kirted one side of the park. Mrs, Yilliars seemed very grarifled at my evident desire to please her and endeavored to appear comforted, even if she were not, and the remainder of the day was spent in promoting the pleasures of her young guests. When our carriage anrived at night to convey us home, Mrs. Yilliars entreated my dear mother so earnestly to allow me to remain that she con- sented, and I thus became an eye-witness of the scene which was the means of bringing poor Mrs. Yilliars to her grave. How happily those summer weeks passed, f^d (h)m the sever- ities of scholastic duties and the harsh reproaches of my governess, the days flew like minutes. Always an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of nature, I almost lived out doom In the contemplation of all that was rich and rare in this lovely place. Mrs. Yilliars was so kind and indulgent, the young people invited to visit me so merry, that I always remem- ber that summer as one of the brightest ones of my existenioe. Alas! that its uiiglu k>3u should so soon ha : e been clouded by evil passions. ■■^- ■ About eight weeks after the wedding Mrs. Yilliars received ft letter, stating, that as the two brides were returning from their tour on the continent, they intended stopping a week or tw« with their mother previous to their settling in their new abodes, and requested that the carriage might be sent to the station the iQUowing Tuesday afternoon. Foor Mrs. Yilliars, howl FOURTH COMMANDMENT. 28 iTJuiced in this proof of what Hho conslderotl ibei lovo tor her, ^ hilc T coiild only soo in it a fresh proof of th^r '*e\f^»hnQn. Tho po«co itid rtwt of homo was much to Ikj d«w!|v»i after travelling fur <>ver tho house agai-n and >i^aiii, sft fearful was the tender mother of leaving auy thing nnd* i o which could by any means conduce to the coml«''* A or be- loved children; tho choicest flowers from the con rvaki''^, th«» rarest birds firom tho aviary, all added fr >8h cht- 'm t(' their richly decorated rooms. At last, convinced that iMtbingelse could be doM, 4»a%4i»» panied mo to the drawici g room and sat down to leir airival, which was already delayed beyond the hour dointc'd. At last the carriage enterr d the avenue, and 1 could «<^ from the window the proud beauty of the young brides ^ they leaned back in the luxurious carriage. I did not wita ^ the first greeting between the mother and her daughters, -k I It it was a joy which a stranger had no right to partici)» to in; but I was soon convinced that the delicacy of feeling ^hioh prompted me to stand aloof, was entirely thrown away tpon these heartless women n not a tear dimmed their ejes^ ther^ was none of that softened feeling apparent, which you mi.'^bt expect from the young and timid bride entering her mother's house for the first time as a guest. I was so struck with their indifi'erence to all their mother's preparations which they hardly acknowledged, and wondered how they could be so callous to all that was lovely in the home which they would soon <^t for ever. My young heart swelled with ill-suppressed indig- nation as I gazed on Mrs. Yilliars, whose agony of disappoint- ment was so visibly marked on her anxious face, and gladly did I hail the minute when the travellers, pleading fatigue, retired early to their rooms. Then it was, that poor Mrs. Yilliars, with h«r arms around my neck, pouted out all the «gony of her feelings, and sought for empathy even from so cm, FOURTH COMMANDMENT. young a friend. Time will not permit me to dwell on all the events of that week. It was very evident that there existed little love between these two young wives and their husbands, for already had the most absurd quarrels disturbed the sweet peace of home. Marion was by nature frightfiilly passioaate, and her sister, brother-in-law, and husband seemed to me to take a perfect delight in aggravating her beyond endurance. On Sunday morning, previous to our attending divine service, there had passed a serious quarrel between them, such high words had been used that I trusted neither of them would ven< ture into the House of God in such a dreadful state of mind. How mistaken were my ideas; it was too good a chance for displaying their bridal finery to the expectant gaze of the public to be thrown aside. The preparation of their minds for the solemn duties of the day, I am confident, never oi^ce en- tered their minds; and I was perfectly horrified at witnessing their frivolous trifling during the service. I looked ^t them when the minister repeated the commandment bidding us to remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy, but I doubt if they ever, heard it, so engaged were they in their own heartless folly. During the afternoon Mrs. Villiers was sent for to visit a dying woman, on whose sick bed she and I had been attending for some weeks previdus, she did not return to dinner, and during that meal Marion and her husband seemed bent on quanelling. Of course I was too insignificant a person even to be regarded by them, but I was old enough to tremble with fear at their awful manner of spending that day, which, if my views were not very clearly defined, I always had a holy awe of desecrating. After the cloth was removed, Marion's husband, - who had drank freely during dinner, commenced taunting her- about her frivolous conduct during divine service, a subject I thought he might as well let alone, as his had been very little better; the quarrel, in consequence, rose to an alarming height, neither of them would listen to reason, and Emily instead of endeavoring to quell such a disgraceful scene, only added fuel to fire by her insulting laughter. This so exasperated Marion that she seized a desert knife, and I fear would have stabbed ber sister, had not her foot caught in the flounces of her dress, FOURTH COMMANDMENT. 25 causing her to fall heavily to the ground, her head striking with great violence against the steel fender. In a minute all was confusion and dismay, the senseless body of Marion was borne to her room, and a messenger dispatched for Mrs. Yilliars. I could not, my dear girls, spare the time to describe to you all the horrors of that death bed, for Marion had ruptured a blood vessel and only survived eight days. It was fearful to listen to. her ravings, conscience then resumed its power and showed her that her whole life had been one scene of re- bellion against the laws of her maker. It was impossible for one minute to turn her thoughts to contemplate the mercy oi God, or the compassion of her blessed Saviour. She accused her mother of being the author of her misery because her ih- dulgence had fostered all the evil of her nature; her husband and sister she looked upon as her murderer's, and only tol- erated my presence because her pride could not brook the idea of servants witnessing her degradation. The broken-hearted mother was indeed reaping the fniit of that folly which had caused her to overlook the spiritual in the temporal welfare of her children. Her agony I could not paint, as she listened to the ravings of her dying child; they froze my young heart with terror; what then must the mother have felt, convinced as she must have been of the truth, that all her affections having been centered in these children, she could never endure to thwart them, consequently their evil passions had taken deep root, and wei-e now bringing forth to her the harvest of bitter agony and self reproach. On the tbllowing Sabbath attemoon Mrs. Yilliars and I were sitting together in Marion's room, on which the shadow of death had already descended. Marion had laid quiet for the last three hours, the violence of her mental struggles had exhausted her, and nature was fast sinking. She smiled faintly as I gave her some wine, the first time she had done so since her illness. In this softened frame of mind I asked her if she would see her hus- band and sister and tell them she forgave them? But, the instant they entered the room her countenance became as rigid as ever; and no perauasion could induce her to say that she died in peace with them. She exerted all her strength to address them, which she did in the following words: "Had 26 FOURTH COMMAKDMENf. 'f t yoa not first excited my passion, by your taunts, and aggra- vated it by your insulting laughter, the accident which has laid ine here would never have happened, you caused me to be a murderer in intent, tind I became a suicide. All this was enacted on thO Babbath day^ a day I never yet kept holy, and now I am about to pass away into an eternity of suffering, at God's judgment seat mu6t I answer fbr my misspent time, meet me there and — ^" But here Marion's strength failed her and she fiiinted. In this unconscious state her spirit left its earthly tenement and returned to the God who gave it. My dear girls, let tne humbly hope that this scene, Jo which I was an eye witness, may warn you against the sin of breaking the rest of Crod's Sabbath, let not evil passions mar its sweet peace, and if you are blessed with parents who reprove your wrong doing, let me beseech you to listen humbly and meekly to their exhor* tations. Tou read how Solomon exhorted his son to listen to the reproofs of his mother. We are l(|||commfnded by GUkI to train up our children in his fear and love, and we may all feel assured that he will bring every mother to a strict account fbr the soul committed to her care; if they will allow their children to walk unchecked in the broad path which leadeth to destruction, they will surely reap, like poor Mrs. YilliarS) the seed of their own sowing. To« come here every Sabbath after- noon, and earnestly do I exhort you to remember God's holy commandments. You possess so many privileges, ob I thank God for them, and prove your gratitude by taking advantage of all that you are taught, and Iry to instruct those of yonr family who are too yming to come, in the contemplation of those precepts which I so earnestly endeavor to impress on your minds. A few words and my tale is done. Poor Mrs. Yil- liars gradually faded away fh)m the day of Marion's death. Re- morse worked its slow but sure revenge on her delicate frame. I was with her to the last, Emily having gone abroad immedi- ately after the funeral. I trust Mrs. Yilliars found nerey for she sought it with deep penitence and tears. Ai soon as she was committed to the grave I returned to my home, my exu- berant spirits damped by the melancholy seenea I had witnessed, but with my mind more deeply impresised than ever with the awftil sin of breaking the Fourth Commandment, in which w« are strictly bidden << to keep holy the Sabbath Day." ^/l i aggra- has laid to be a ibis was oly, and Bring, at ne, meet her and 3 earthly >ar girls, an eye le rest of iace, and ig doing, ir exhor- listen to y God to y all feel account ow their >adeth to liarS) the ath af ter- od's holy bl thank dvantage » of yoor plation of ipress on Mrs. Vil- »th. Re- te frame* I immedi- nerey for lon as she my exu- ritnessed, with the which we iTFTff PnMl\fAA[nMl?\rT FIFTH COMMANDMENT. " Honour thy Father and Mother, that thy days may he Umg in the land^ which the Lord thy Ood giveth thee," ^ Tliis Commandment, the one for our consideration this after- noon, is, as yon all know, the only one of the ten to which a promise is annexed. You have read of the severe punishments Grod always caused to overtake those who rebelled against their parents, and yon also read in the Proverbs of Solomon the exhortations to his son to hear the instructions of his parents, assuring him, << that a wise son maketh a glad father, but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother." Length of days, long life and peace are promised to those who forget not their father's law. I cnn fancy no sin A> likely to call forth God's anger as the disobedience of a child. How often since I have been in Canada have I seen the mother whose best years have been spent in nursing and attending to a large ftimily of fretful children, left in her old age to earn her living, whilst her lazy daughters would spend everything upon dress and enjoyment. If remons^ted with, a saucy answer would probably be her reward, and this for years of toil and privation of which her children could form no idea. From you, my dear pupils, I look for better things, you know what you owe to your parents, and your greatest delight should be to shield their old age fh>m any suffering your affection can prevent. Now I will tell you a short tale of a dear little boy, whose example it would be well for yon all to imitate. It will take you into far different scenes from the last, not among the irreat ones of the land, who revel in wealth and luxury, but into the lower ranks of life, I now call your attention, while I endeavor to illuitrate the 80 FIFTH COMMANDHENT. precept contained in the Fifth Commandment. These events took place some time after I had myself become a wife and mother and in the same town where I resided. A young woman who had been servant for years in oar deiir old clergjrman'g family, formed an attachment to a mechanio whose name was Edward Maynard, He was an excellent workman and had constant employment, but he possessed, like many others, I am sony to say, a fondness for ardent spirits. Jane having lived in the best fomilies from her childhood, had acquired much of that taste which so unfitted her for the sta- tion she so foolishly chose for herself as the wife of a bricklayer. In vain did all her friends, and particularly her good old master, remonstrate with her, poiuting out the danger as well as sin she was inourriog by uniting herself to a man ad4loted to drink; but J%ne, poor, foolish girl, thought her influenm the wretched woman; thto certainty that her sole comfort was about to be taken away FIFTH COMMANDMENT. 33 rendered her almost insane, aad gladly did we hail the en- trance of the dear old clergyman who had just stepped in, as was his daily custom, to pray with the little sufferer. Sweetly did he talk to the miserable mother ot that bright and beauti- ful home to which her child was fast travelling, and of that compassionate Saviour who called little children to him. He then prayed fervently to almighty God " to give her the spirit of resignation, and if it pleased his divine majesty to grant that the stroke which would almost crush the mother, might in his own good time be the means of awakening Maynard to a sense of his sin and bring him an humble penitent to Jesus' feet." The poor mother seemed relieved by his kindness, and bore with more composure than we expected the doctor's visit. When he told her '' that there remained not a shadow of hope for her little boy's recovery, as mortification had already set in, the only comfort he could give her, was, that the remainder of his time would be free from suffering." He the) asked, « who was going to set up that night?" but was told that the neigh- bors were all tired of coming on account of Maynard, who was so rude and insulting to all whom he found there. Mrs. Sey- mour then requested her husband to allow her to remain, and as I expressed my willingness to stay with her, he, with a little hesitation consented; and after giving directions what wSs to be done, left us to keep our sad watch in the chamber of death. About midnight Maynard returned, fortunately for us so helplessly intoxicated, as to be even insensible of our presence; and remained in an inner room till roused on the following morning by one of his fellow workmen. Edward passed a quiet night, free from ^ bodily suffering, although when morning dawned it was plain to all, that on him another sun would never rise. It was beautiful to witness the young boy's trusting faith ; the idea of leaving his mother had been the one great trial he had been subjected to all through his illness, but now that anxiety seemed entirely removed, with such perfect faith did he com- mend her to his heavenly father's care. About 8 o'clock in the morning Maynard came home to breakfast, and asked us in an insulting manner, "what we did there -encouraging that, lazy boy in Ms fancies?" declaring at the same time, « that if 84 FIFTH COMMANDMENT. he did not get up and t) to work, that he would pull him out of bed." A cry of agony from the mother told that ahe had heard the bratal threat, which so exasperated him, that he went to the bedside, and was just about to seise his boy, when I caught his arm and dared him at his peril to touch the child. Whether the signs of death in the child's face struck him, I know not, but he disengaged his arm from my gra^), and uttering a fear* All oath left the cottage, the door of which I immediately bolted, but gladly opened again in a few minutes, to admit the doctor ftnd clergyman, who both arrived together. The shoek to the little boy's exhausted frame was too much, he struggled to rise, Mrs. Seymour raised him up, but it was too late, a stream of blood gushed from his mouth, and falling back his redeemed and purified spirit returned to him, '* with whom is no variableness er shadow of changing." Time will not permit me U* dwell on the events following his death, dear Edjrard was carried to his last resting place on the next Sabbath afternoon, and meet beautiftil and impressive was the address of the minister to the young people surround- ing his grave*. How earnestly he exhortedf them all to follow the lovely exampfe of their dbad companion, he Aowed how beautiftiUy he had* kept the comman^ent of God' to honor hit flither and mot tn. No treatment, however harsh, had caused him to depart ilrom the respect due to his fhther, his very lifer had been a sacrifice to his obedience, and now he was reapinj^ his bright reward; in that sweet land beyund the tomb he waa envying life etemai and w crown of glory that fbdeth not away^ Some years passed before' STaynarof was brought to ar sense of his wickedness, but thank God who doeth all things well, the prayers of his little son were answered, and he became tm remarkable for his sober and good conduct, as he once was fo^ the contrary. He never fSgave himself for being the cause; though indirectly, of his sen's-death, but followed out to the veiy letter, the earnest wishes expressed on his death bedi- Jane had at last the satisfaction of seeing her bttsband lespectecl where he was once both feared and hated. The children were well educated, and they are bow ftt thefr turn, teaching thoir children to obey the commandment of God which bids all to « honor their father and mother, that their days may be long in the land." SIXTH COMMANDMENT. Y Sixl life; plac perj witi whi lars urg« selv whe that "A her thoi her eart verj of a hav< fitol the You the; the shou oneE spre SIXTH COMMANDMENT. *^Thou shali do no murder." Toil are, I feel sure, wondering among yonrselvea how thfl Sixth Commandment can be illustrated by any event ' life; you will not suppose it possible that I was likely « ' placed in any scene, in which the crime of murder couid i^ perpetrated. But, alas I it was my lot, many years ago to be a witness of such a deed, and also to give evidence on the trial which followed its commission. Before I tell you the particu- lars of this sad event, I cannot forbear pausing to make an urgent appeal to you all, against the danger of yielding your* selves up a prey to turbulent passions. No one can say where its consequences are to end. Remember the first murder that was ever committed, and the fearful curse pronounced, « And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; when thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto you her strength ; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be on the earth." What caused this dread deed? We read, '< Gain was very wrath." Tes,. anger caused a brother to spill the blood of a brother. The effects of anger are dreadful. How often have I listened with horror to the declaration made after the fit of passion had passed away, << That had the power equalled the desire the object o( that anger had ceased to breathe." Tou have our blessed Saviour's own declaration, contained in the 28th verse of the 5th chapter of St. Matthew's gospel, that the wish is paramount to the deed itself. How careful then should parents be to watch the least sign of anger in their little ones, and by checking the evil in the bud, prevent its fearful Bpread. I would take this opportdnity also to warn you 88 SIXTH COMMANDMENT. against the spirit of aggravation, a temper almost as fatal as anger, inasmuch as it is the fuel which feeds the fire, and leads to deeds which in all probability would never have been thought of, if unassisted by its powerful dart ; so few can withstand its baneAil influence. But you will be getting im- patient to hear how it came to pass that I was eye-witness to a murder, and I will therefore proceed to tell you how passion, irritated beyond control by aggravation, ended in the death of the unfortunate woman whose temper was the means whereby the fatal blow was struck by the hand of her husband. There was situated some fifteen miles from my father's resi- dence, an excellent inn, where travellers going to and fro from the town of I , always stopped to dine or sup, as the case might be. The landlord, who was a very respectable man, kept a good house and carried on a successftil business. He was, generally speaking, a quiet man, although at times, it was said, he would ^ve way to fearAil bursts of passion; but all allowed that had it not been for the cold, sarcastic, aggravat- ing spirit of his wife, these fits of anger would have been few and for between. I knew nothing more of this couple than by staying an hour or two at the house while our horses rested. They were always exceedingly civil and kind, and made every effort for the comfort of their guests. I was one evening with my brother and sister returning firom the town of I , where we had been spending part of the Ghrisimas week, when a violent storm of snow suddenly set iii, and so blocked up the road and blinded the horses, that it was nearly midnight ere we reached the inn. It was long after the time travellers would be likely to be expected, so the parlor fire had been suffered to die out, and we gladly accepted the landlord's invitation to seat ourselves before the kitchen fire (which was blazing cheerfully), in order that we might dry our clothes, which were saturated with the wet snow, which had been falling for the past four hours. The landlord was most pressing that we should stay all night, but as the storm seemed abating we were anxious to reach home, as we knew theyi would be expecting us. As we required no supper but a few biscuits, the landlord proceeded to moU some spiced wine^ which is done by means of heating rod hot a niAU poker «nA SIXTH COMMANDMENT. 39 then stirring it into the wine. He had, I think, been drink- ing, but was certainly not intoxicated, and talked most rationally to' my lMx>ther about some business which my fether was transacting for him. As his wife had not made her ap- pearance we concluded that she had retired to bed, and were very much enrprised* when she presently entered the room and demanded in a most insulting tone whether her husband in- tended to drink any more' wine that night T He answered her very civilly, when, to our consternation, she commenced lavish- ing on him the most apprpbious epithets, evidently in reference to some former dispute. Her language was so insulting that my brother called her attention to us, as though he fiwoied she had not perceived any female guests in the room. This was of no avail, so fast did the bitter sarcastic taunts issue ttom her lips, that it seemed to me, as if she wete' possesed with « demon who was but too surely urging her on to her fate. Her husband, with foce and lips white as death, commanded her to leave the room. Would that she had done mUf abdi I should never have had to tell you this sad tale. She must have seen that her husband vrtk ixMkhtiag with ■uppressed passfon; why di^she tem)[»t him? Thatisaqnea. tion I cannot answer, I only know, that before my brother could interfere, the incensed man had snatched the riiarp red hot poker firom the fire, and buried it, all hissing as it was, at the wretched woman, who fell immediately. She never spoke si^in, in a few miaiites her soul was in the presence of her Kaker^ Oh I the fearful remorse of that poor man, as, hfg moment of pasdon over, ke gazed on his victim as die lay dead at his feet. What would he not then have given, oould he have brought back the life he had taken< I trust I may never wit* ntota sueh agony agai% ft was too frightftil to contemplate and I cmxiot dwell on it. On the day of trial the court was crowded to excess, of course poor Browne pleaded guilty, so there was no need of a lengthy examination of the only three witnesses. We, of oourse, could not deny our evidence as to the extreme provocation htokad received, for we all felt certain that the deed was done in the mcomity when passion, asswting its full power, reason iMtd 40 SIXTH COMMANDMENT. trembled in the balance. The verdict was manslaughter, and the sentence twelve month's imprisonment. But poor Browne did not outlive his term, he died a broken hearted penitent, within the nine months. << It was," the chaplain told ns, <' at first almost impossible to impress on his mind the truth that there could be pardon for him, it seemed as though he could not realize the condescension of that love which having bought his soul at such a price, was ready to wash out his sin and cleanse him by its mighty power." How often would he exclaim: «Gan it be poisible that these precious promises are for me?" As my father was well known to the chaplain, we had no difficulty in obtaining fvee permission to accompany him some- times when he visited this poor man. One thing we could not but admire in him; when talked to by some of his friends of the great provocation he had received; although he could not but feel it was the only thing which had saved him from the gal- lows, he would silence them at once. It seemed as though Grod in his infinite wisdom, caused the heart of this poor man to be so impressed with the great sin his passion had caused him to commit, that he sought to make no excuse for himself, but every one for his victim. He certainly might have shel- tered himself under the plea of his wife's aggravating temper; but his deep humility precluded all such pleading. He was at last enabled to cast himself on the mercy of his blessed Saviour — << just as he was, without one rleato rid his soul of that dark blot, without one fear but that his blood could cleanse each spot." He died just three months before his term of imprison- ment had expired, and most earnestly did he exhort all who stood around his bed, to fiee the sin which had thus shortened his days. And will yuu not, my dear girls, let this warning sink deep into your hearts. Do not make the vain boast, that you are not likely to commit murder. Are you your own keepers? If you allow passion to be your master, can you say that you will be able to keep it within bounds? It is in its effects as fatal as the mighty avalanche which sweeps all before it. I have seen so much evil from its effects, I have suffered so deeply that it makes me so urgent with you to shun its dire- fril consequences. A blow struck in a moment of passion sent ft beloved aon of mine to an early grave, can you wonder that SIXTH COMMANDMENT. 41 no I am anxious to impress on you my dear pupils, the urgent necessity of praying God to deliver you from this evil; oh I wrestle with it, and never rest till, with God's gracious assist- ance, you have conquered. Remember this beautiful promise, << God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will, with the temptation also, make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it." I would, my dear girls, now, in conclusion, refer you to the verses in the Proverbs of Solomon, whom, you know, was the wisest man, and he declares << that he that is slow to anger is of great under- standing, but he that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly. A et^t answer tumeth away wrath; but grievous words stir up anger.*' Also, << An angry man stirreth up strife and a furious man aboundeth in transgression." Let me entreat you to stifle in the bud all evil thoughts, least they ultimately lead to the consummation of the deed, and which in the eyes of God are just as guilty, and will surely bring you under the condemnation of that law which says, « Thou shalt do no murder." SBYENTH COMMANDMENT. ie u 81< to en yo yo rit to cl fe tu 63 hi n T e\ a SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. " Thou Shalt not commit adultery," The Seventh Commandment, which comes under our con- sideration this afternoon, will be perhaps the most difficult one to illustrate; yet I must not pass it over, and will therefore endeavor to rolate an event, which will, I think, serve to show you the danger of breaking this express command of God, that you shall not commit adultery. " You are all old enough to know and understand that mar- riage was instituted by God in the time of man's innocency, to signify to us the mystical union between Christ and his church. You will also remember that it was at a marriage feast, that our blessed Saviour performed his first miracle of turning water into wine; which event has been so beautifully expressed by a young clergyman in these words — « The modest water awed by power divine, Confess'd its God aod blushed itself to wiue." Marriage thus being a sacred ordinance, instituted by God himself, should never be lightly undertaken by man or woman. K you read over the marriage service appointed by our church you will there find, that the most solemn obligations are entered into by both parties, to cherish and love each other till death parts them; there is no other reservation — death, and death alone, is to part those whom God hath joined together, and whom no man is allowed to put asunder. Yet, do we not daily hear of cases of husbands deserting their wives and wives their husbands? thus flying in the face of the Almighty, setting his commandment at nought, and causing the crime of adultery to run riot through our land. But I will now endeavor to tell you a tale bearing on this commandment; 11 46 SEYENTH COHMANDHENT. lit the parties acting in it were all well known to me, therefore you may be assured of its truth. Mr. and Mrs. Granville were a young couple who lived a ver^ short distance from my house. I had known Mrs. Gran- ville as a girl and liked her very much, although I saw faults in her which I felt sure, would, if not checked, ultimately work her ruin. She was a very high spirited girl, impatient of con- trol, and unfortunately for her, her mother died just as she attained her twelfth year, a time when the judicious and ten- der care of a mother was most needed to train and mould her character. A maiden sister of her father's came immediately after her death to take charge of the house and the motherless girl. Miss Vincent was a woman of the world, very hand- some, agreeable, lady like, and clever, but a most unfit person to train such a girl as Laura. Her faults were all nourished by the iiyudicious indulgence of her aunt, who, proud of her neice's personal beauty and superior mental talents, never heeded the beauties of mind, consequently they were choked by the weeds of her own planting. She was placed at a fash- ionable boarding school without one principle to guide her, her highest aim being to deceive all in authority over her, and so well did she succeed that at the age of seventeen she eloped from school with a young man of whom she knew nothing, except that he was remarkably handsome and a delightful partner in the dance. Both father and aunt were, as you may readily believe, furious when they heard of her marriage, but they never paused to consider how much of the blame might justly be imputed, to themselves. No, all their fury was pourd out on the head of the erring girl, who, after all was more sinned against than Binning. I think you will agree with qie that ayonnggirl of seventeen, just treat from a boarding school, could not be a very suitable wife for any man. Fortunately for Laura, her mother's prop- erty was settled on her, or poverty would have been the first evil her foolish conduct brought upon her, for the elder Mr. Granville refiised his slightest aid, so indignant did he feel at the imprudent step his son had taken. Laura commenced her BiMTtod life with no more idea of its saored respiHigibilitiei SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 47 erefore than a child of six years old. She could not control her ser- vants, consequently they were always leaving her, for what * pect could she command T She never knew her own mind ten minutes together, but would issue orders which in a few minutes she would countermand; there was no manner of regu- larity in her household, for the duties of housekeeping were to her unknown. Too soon Mr. Granville found that lady liko manners, and a pretty face wore not all sufficient to render home happy, he soon became indifferent to the loveliness which had enchanted him, and kept away as much as possible from his ill-regulated household. Laura used frequently to come and pour out her complaints to me, but I found it impossible to make her sensible that she was in reality the culprit; there was no principle to work upon, consequently it was useless to reason with her, she could not endure blame, and resolutely shut her eyes to all her senseless folly. She used to cry, and call her husband, << cold, heartless, cruel," and every epithet she could find; and many, I am sorry to say, instead o^ checking her imprudent complaints, encour- aged her to tell all she suffered, till the sanctity of her home was laid bare for the public to comment on, and the disagree- ments of Granville and his wife became the chief topic of our scandal-loving town. It is always a delicate thing to interfere between man and wife, and no one can be justified in doing so; but I felt sony for Laura, JEtlthough I'h^d no sympathy with her heartless folly; but at last I summoned up courage to request Mr. Granville's permission to allow Laura a regular housekeeper for one year, under whose tuition she might become fit to act for herself, and, at the same time, I promised to «>.lIow my conk, an elderly woman, to be with her for six months, until things should be got into regular order, for the waste going on in the house was frightfiil, and such as no income could support. Mr. Granville behaved in the most gentlemanly manner, and everything was settled to the entire satisfaction of all parties. Laura became the mother of a little girl— it was a firail, deli- cate creaiture, and I never thought it would be raised; bat, for onoe, Laura was sensible, and insisted upon nursir ler infknt herself, and she really seemed so fond of her tin/ daughtefi 48 SEVENTH COMlfANDMBNT. that I began to hope that she would, for its sake, 1i<'come a good aud pmdent woman; but wo all know how hard it is to eradicate the Bettled faults of years, and I am grieved to be obliged to icll you that Laura soon found baby would confine her altogether too much to the house, and, to my astonishment, she came one morning to me to ask my advice, and solicit my aid in procuring a wet nurse for the little being, whose life seemed just held upon the frailest tenure. Then it was that I took upon myself the privilege of a friend, to point out to her in the strongest terms the exceeding sinful- ness of her conduct. I was almost too indignant even to listen to her frivolous reasons for resigning, into the hands of a stranger, a mother's sacred duty. I asked her, "how she dared to live in open defiance of all the duties she had promised to fulfil when she became a wife? was it not enough that she made home so miserable by her frivolous conduct, that she drove her husband to seek his happiness away fram it? I was the more provoked, because I knew that Granville really loved his wife in spite of her heartless folly, and he was passionately attached to the little being who had the misfortune to call her mother. But talking to Laura was, indeed, like casting pearls before swine, and after she left me, I sat down and wrote to her aunt, begging her to come and use her influence to check Laura in her mad career of folly, which I felt sure must ulti- mately end in her niin, tor many rumours were afloat that her conduct was not very reputable. As she had never been a favorite in the town, people were not slow to blame her; she had always been too indolent to be kind — too proud to use any efforts to conciliate the general good-will. She was looked upon as a vain, frivolous, imprudent girl; and she, in her tnrn, accused the people, in the bitterest terms, of being a jealous, unkind and scandalizing set I believe I was the only one whom she really loved, and it was not, T am sure, because I excused her follies, for I used in the plainest language to point out the exceeding sinfulness of her coi duct. From my knowledge of Miss Vincent I felt she would be painfully tenacious of anything which could cast a slur on the respectability of her family, although she had taken no pains to guard Laura against the imprudence which led to it; but I SBYBNTH COMMANDMENT. 49 felt that if her fkther could be persuaded to receive her again under the protection of ^s roof, that the evil which I bo much dreaded might be averted. The intelligence of what I had done was received by Laura with the most flrightflil burst of passion I had ever witnessed— ■he declared, «' that her aunt should never come near her, and as to go baek with her fitther, why she would die first" Her hysterical flki became so alarming that I had no difficulty in persuading Mr. Granville to allow me to take charge of the baby antll a At nurse could be procured for it ^ow I pitied this little frail creature who was now to share with my fine, healtb^y boy, that nurture which its mother seemed so unwill- ing to i^ve. In a very short time It began to thrive under the regular system of eai« bestowed on il;; ao rapidly did it improve that I told Mr. Granville J would not resign it to any iiired nurse. Laura used to come and see her baby occasion- ally, but she seemed so indifferent ^to it, that the only wonder to me was, that she ever took the trouUe to see It at all. When the baby was about six months old Mr. Granville took Lanra to the sea side; she came to bid me good bye the evening previous to her departure. I tried to talk to her, but she seemed studiously to avoid what slie used to call, ^' my lectures.** It was a mystery to me, how sho could sit so unmovad and see her infant's smiles all given to me— its little tiny arms held out whenever I was near it; but she seemed perfectly indilTereat that its innocent love should be lavished on a atnwger. Laura left the next morning, and I never saw her hgain — she ended her career as might have been expected from her vain, unprincipled character. Taking advanlage of her husband's absence she eloped with an officer, whose atten- tions had been for some time of a most suspicious nature. Her heart-broken husband returned home, and after making ar- rangements with me about his littie daughter, procured a eommission in a foreign regiment and immediately sailed. My dear little nurseling continued with me till shewai eighteen months old— a fine, healthy little creature. About that time a sister of Mr. Granville's came, and Imlbrming me of his death, requested to have her infknt nieee given up to b«r. I was verj unwilUng to part ftom my darling Nelly, but " 50 SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. I had no authority to keep her fh>m her lawfUI guardiani. MIm Granville, therefore, remained i^ew weeks with me, nntil Nelly would go to her without fretting, and then she waa taken away. I never saw my sweet foster child again — she fell a Tictim to scarlet fever within a year after her departure. Since I have been in Canada I have heard of Laura's death, which was just what might have been expected — after years spent in sin and folly she died an outcast of society, without one real friend to smooth her dying pillow, or whisper words of loving kindness in her ear; no bright assurance of forgive- ness could have soothed her last moments, for delirium in all its horrors was the companion of her deathbed. This, then, was the sad end of one whoso superior personal beauty and rare talents, had they been turned to account, might have rendered her an ornament of the society she outraged. May this tale, my dear girls, warn you of the folly and dan- ger of continuing in a course of self-willed ftivolity. It often provokes me to hear young persons say, <they must know better than you, who have had no experience in the world. If young girls are forbidden by their parents to go any whei'e, how often have I seen the Ipit- ing Up and listened to the nndtitifol answer: surely you musk forget that it is a parent's duty to guard her children flrom evil, and those who do not do so, generally have to repent in bitteis neea their sinful neglect, I have heard men on the eve of going to the scaffold confoss, ^< that willful disobedience to their par^ts was the cause of the sin which now was ending In k BBYBNTH COmfANDMENT. 51 Rhameftil death." On the other hand, what muit be the remone of that parent whose conscience telli her, that had she trained her child in the fear and love of God, he wonld not now bring her gray halm with sorrow to the grave. Fanoj iuch a death-bed as Laura Granville's; does it not make 70a shudder T Oh! remember this painAil truth— •* Tbera'i no repantanee la Um graT*, Or pardoD* oflisred to the dMul." Certainly we cannot, ought not, or dare to fix any limits to the mercy of the Almighty; but, still, we can have but little hope in a death-bed such as this: it was, indeed, a Just punish- ment, and one that will, sooner or later, surely descend on the beads of all those who live and die in open defiance of that oommandment which forbids us << to commit adultery/' \ i JW\ EIGHTH COMMAIfDMENT. ¥ 8 n n m ic el ki tl tr si h< sli be t\i eji EIGHTH COMMANDMENT. ** Thon shaii not steal," *js*:i <«•>( This commandment requires your serious attention, my dear girls, not that I for one moment suppose that any of you would be guilty of the «a of thieving^ but we will, neverthe- less, consider it in all its bearings. You know, as well as I can tell you, that a great many young people imagine by just taking a trifle, thit they do not injure the perso f'rom whom they take it, so that it lessons the sin: they, pe aps, never go beyond what they call little thefts, and who, "tile they would neither take clothes out of a drawer, or mone^ out of a purse, think it no crime to help themselves to tea, sugar, fhiit, or any othl^r nicety which they have taken a fancy to. But, surely, they foiget, that any one who takes a trifle to-day, may feel less scruple in seizing something of great value to> morrow; and thus it is, that from small beginnings, vice ovei^ runs the whole character, and utter niin frequently ensues. It is vain to say, we do not intend to run such lengths — the effects of sin are powerful; they are as miechievoiis as a small spark which, falling on the tinder, is not only sufficient to kindle fires in eveiy chamber of a house, but even to consume the entire building. I will now endeavour to make the illus- tration of this commandment interesting to you, by relating a short tale of two cousins, one of whom, by indulging during her childhood in various small Ipecnlations, was induced cm her mind; but one thing she would never do, and that was to give s pioadse,; << I will try to remember, she would say, bat 1 dare not ^pro- mise, lest I be guilty of nntratb.*' Her love of truth was so deep a sentiment of her natnie, « that true as Louisa Belfield.** was quite a proverb among her young companions, not one of >M{Mk whom, but would have borne any punishment most^il- lingly, rather than see it inflicted on Louisa, the t frequent consequence of her thoughtlessness. Mrs. Belfleld felt hfrn serious would be the effect of this fault on Louisa's ftitnre character, consequently she' never allowed her to go to scbrrot, but educated her at home, that she might watch oveir her, Itnd with God's blessing on her efforts, abdicate the evil weedd which threatened to take deep root in her mind. When Louisa had attained the age of fltfeen, her annt had occasion to go abroad and left to Mrs. Belfield's guardianriiip her only daugii- ter Anna, a girl about the same age as Louisa. A handsome sum of money was allowed for her maintenance, and she be- came the inmate of her aunt's house. No one could see Anna without being struck by her elegant form and delicate beauty; but very soon her aunt foui^ cause to regret that her niece had been left to her care. Anna was so unprincipled, that she never for one moment hesitated about appropriating to her own use any pretty little trinket or keepsake of Louisa's, whose inveterate carelessness of haMt rendered aii easy pr^ for her artful and designing eousin, who, without any compunction of conscience, would see Louisa severely reprimanded for the loss EIGHT? COMMANDMENT. 67 of the vety article which «ke had under lock and key in her owniooBi. You may all fitncy what a souroe of pain and grief this trait is. Anna's character was to ber «flRBOtionate aiuit, who loved faer mieoe vest tenderly. Of odurse, it was some time brfore Ifrs. Belfleld4i8covered ttils propensity, for Anna was sensible euonffh to feel that it woiM. disgust both her airat «: * co j»in, •ad this kept her generally on her guard: It w^e lu little things in which she was less carefUl of deteetios;^ for instance ahe would, without somite, help herself from Louisa's work beK«r 4edk to anything rhe needed, rather lOmx use her owti; the best and ripest fruit she always aipiMiopgilated^ till poor Mrs. Belfleld found to her honor, that ¥t was a regular system with Anna to «et ande ISae -aaeiedness of tlie preoept contained im the eighth commandment Mrs. Belfleld lost no tlse In vndeavoiing to point out to Anna the great sin of which she was gatity, but the only real nsult was, uorej^aavded conduct on the piirt of this unprinci- fled girl. Mrs. BctSeM had bo tmr of Louisa being tomipted by her cousin, for tnttix and honor were her leading character- istics, aaid»ahe skuank with undisguised horror from this vice In Anna, wte oared tee little for her couda^s affeetion, to make the allghtest «9flfort to concillato her. Tet Aaaa was to be fdlSed, for the injudidous trailing she kad xeoeived from her voiy Tain and weak-minded mother, oeuld not fall of bringing forth its own evil ftuU Anna's little peenJatkwiH as a child wore laughed at, unlU she began to think cheating and stealing were two veiy elever attributes, and at the age of fifteen ahe was an «uiept a;t scheming. Ga& you not lauigiiie how painftdly this character marred all the high hopes entertained by Mrs. BelflAid, when she first weleomed this elgant giri to her home, as a companion for her guileless Louisa t When these young girls had attained their seventeenth year, they wem* iavited to spend the summer with their patemi^ great anat, Lady Susan C^aville, who was then residicj in the bL> characterized her, answered, <' That she arrogated to herself no right to give or refuse her neice's hand, that during her mother's absence he would do well to apply to her guardian Mrs. Belfield, as she would give him no encouragement on account of his ruling passion," and she also gave him to understand in the most unmistakable language that Anna would never receive a single shilling of her money to be squandered in gambling.' What a disappointment to the ambitious aspirations of this yonng man, was this decision of Lady Susan's. His love Ibr Anna was founded solely on her ezpectationB, which sho had 6)0 EIGHTH OOMMANDinNT. led him ^ believe were immenfle, Mid he could scarcely hide his chagrin as he infonned Anna of the result of liis interview with Lady Susan. Anna, however, soothed him with the hope of being aUe to obtain a large amount without either tlie knowledge or sano- tion of Lady Susan, and then mentioned the affair of the cheque, at first her lover was shocked at the scheme proposed by Anpa to take pMMMeion of this money; but his debts were heavy, ^and as he had no present means of meeting the demands made upon hinij he soon listened with avidity to Anna's pro- posal of robbing her kind and geherous aunt. Can you, my dear girhi, fancy ingratitude equal to this? but Anna had so long indulged in thA infHngement of the Eighth Commandment, that she now felt not the slightest com- punction of conscience. The derire to possess the draft had so long taken possession oi her* that she felt no derire to resist the temptation, even the fear of detection did not deter her; her plans were well laid, but she surely forgot, that Gk)d's all- seeing eye was upon her, from that there was no escape. Oh! think of this when you are tempted to.oommit any ain, never mind faoiw small you think it— sin is sin in God's eyes, and he will surely bring all who indulge in it to a strict account A short time afMr this Lady Susan was seized with a Terjr sev«re and dangerous illness, and most tenderly was she nursed by the affectionate Louisa, who gladly relinquished the gaieties of the season to take her post by the bedside of her anni ' Ai Lady Susau was well aware that this attack was likely to ter- m(p»te her existence, she was anxious to settle her worldly affaira while reason was left her, and she therefore one evening requested Louisa to bring her the draft which she had requceted ftt^/)^ her to put away some months previous, and handed her the key of the e^cutpire in which she had been told to deposit it. To. Louisa's horror and astonishment the draft was not there. In Tidn she ransack^ the drawer, but not the slightest vestige of it could be seen, and sh& was forded to retnm t6 Lady Susaa ^ with the unwelcome tidings that the draft was not where she had placed it. Louisa bore tiie searching look of bor aunt with a face in which surprise and truth were strongly blended, at she dimply stited where she h«d leftit, in the pock<>tof th«' EIGHTH COMlfANDMBMT. #1 reed rtlM As teiv Idly ling ft pookeUbook which she now held in her hand. « Strange and very suepicioiie," exclaimed Lady Susan as she sank back in a feinting fit. « Oh I is it possible that my beloved aant can for one minnte deem me guilty," was the pitiftil cry of poor Lonisa as she fell on her knees by the bedside of her aunt. ''Hush, Miss Belfield," exclaimed the nurse ib bhe now came forward to assist in bringing Lady Susan to consciousness, <' be patient, all will be well, I think I can give you some assistance in the recoveiy of the cheque." < \\ NINTH CuMANDMENT. \V ^a NINTH COMMANDMENT. <* Thou Shalt not bear false toUnesa against thy neighbor," Dhis commandment, my deak* girls, calls also for your most serious attention, for it is one so frequently broken, that hardr ly a day passes in which we do not hear of irremediable mi»* chief being caused among Mends and acquaintances by its means. Surely, any one who practices this sin forgets the heineousness of it in the sight of the God of truth, who has expressly declared that << Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord." You all know, I am sure, the misery and wretched- ness a lying tongue can create in a fomily, how many lies must be told in order to conceal one, though they rery seldom answer the purpose — ** For liars we can never trust, Though they should speak the thing that's true ; And he that does one fault at first. And Ues to hide it, makes it two." Of the danger and sin of this I will endeavor to show you, by telling you an incident which I trust will not only prove to you the ne<»S8ity of tmthftilness in your recitals of anything which may have passed under your notice, but act as a warning, so as to induce you to shun the fatal sin which caused me so many months of misery. I was a very young girl when I was married, and left the home of my childhood to dwell among strangers in a strange place, some 160 miles from the town where I was bom. There was a lady who resided about a mile fh>m me of whom I soon became very fond. She was twenty-four years older than myself and being both exceedingly clever and wise, was cer- tainly a Mend any young girl might have felt proud of posses. 68 NINTH COMMANDMENT. I ! if I ' sing; I certainly was, for she was noted for being extremely particular in the choice of her associates. To me she was all kindness and generosity, and with the tenderest, loring kind- ness, did she act the part of a sincere friend, for she never saw me act imprudently, or speak injudiciously, which I am sure was very often the case, but she would tell me frankly of my fault, and advise me against the repetition of it. Fortunately for me I had the good sense to value her friendship and endea- vor to profit by it, although many of my ydonger oompaniona would sneer and ask, <'If I were willing to be kept in leading strings all my lifef However, time passed away, and my affection for Mrs. Stanley increased with my better knowledge of her; but I had become the mother (^ a son and twin daughters before the events took place which I have chosen for the illustration of the commandment now under our consider- ation. I and my nurse and three children had been Spending some weeks at the seaside, for the benefit of sea bathing, and had been home about three weeks, when I began to wonder why Mrs. Stanley, who had always before this, been the first to wel- come me, had not paid her accustomed visit; and I was the more surprised, because she had stood sponsor for one of my little girls, who was named Florence, after her, and in whose welfare she seemed to take great interest. However, I fancied she might be from home or unwell, and therefore determined to drive over the next afternoon and see what was the matter. Accordingly, I did so, and to my utter astonishment was told <' That she was engaged with company and could not conveni- ently see me." This message from Mrs. Stanley perfectly pef>> lified me; for how often had I called when some of her most distinguished visitcmi had been there, and I had always been received with open arms and*the warmest kiss. What could occasion this change ? I felt so mortified that I could scarcely command myself sufficiently to drive from the door. On my way home I thought over everything I could possibly think of which could have caused oflfence, but always having loved her so fondly, I could not dream of either a word or action which could have given her cause for displeasure. I had seen her only the day previous to my starting on my ; NINTH COMIUNDMENT. 69 my journQj; and then she was as affectionately fond of me as ever, and had lingered long, giving me advice about my treatment of her goddaughter, and when bidding me farewell, wound her arms so lovingly around me, and kissed me over and over agaiA, as if loth to part with me even for a day — and now she would not see me, or admit me to her house I I felt myself quite ill. The more I thought, the more unaccountable seemed her con- duct; but conscious that I had done nothing to merit her cool treatment, I was determined to await the unfolding of the mystery. Weeks passed away and I saw nothing of Mrs. Stan- ley exept at church, and then it seemed to me that she studi- ously avoided me — a cool nod being all the notice I received from one, who had never met me before without a smiling wel- come peculiar to herself. Having been denied admittance to her house once^ my spirit was too proud to brook a second denial, besides, I had a dread of intruding on any one. It is a feeling so strong with me, that it clings to me to this day; the fonder I am of a person, the more timid I feel lest I should at any time wear out my welcome. I had a very large circle of acquaintances, but there was not one individual amongst them all, whom I really loved, except Mrs. Stanley. This was of course well known, and the cool- ness subsisting between us, was a common topic of conversation among those who were not a little jealous of the familiar notice bestowed upon me by one, whom it was considered quite a privilege to be on visiting terms with. Mrs. Summerville the wife of our curate, who had with Mrs. Stanley stood sponsor for the other twin, was the only person who ventured to mention the subject to me, and we talked it over together, but I could not remember a single word I had ever said which could in the smallest degree have caused oflfence. Mrs Summerville then offered, if I would give her permission, to call on Mrs Stanley and ask for an explanation of what she thought was due to me. I had frotted so much that I had be- come very nervous and ill, and gladly accepted of Mrs. Sum- mervill^s oflbr, although I had but little hope of benefitting by it A tew days elapsed before Mrs. Summerville called upon me again, and then it was with the fbllowlng explanation that ■he completely 'Startled me. I give it in her own words : 70 NI27TH GOHMANl^MIiNT. H I 7' ii << When I called on Mrs. Stanley, I requested her, as a minis- ter's wife, and one truly interested in you, that she would kindly inform me what cause she had fo^ '>er cool treatment of one whom we all knew she loved, or proiiassed to love so very fondly ? At first Mrs. Stanley was unwilling to give her reasons, although she seemed to consider them amply sufficient to justify the course of conduct which she had pursued. << I told her," con- tinued Mrs. Summerville, << that to treat a person with such marked coldness, who was so attached to her, and between whom such a warm intimacy had existed, wHhout giving a reason, was an act of i^juistice, that I had too good an opinion of her character to think she would persist in; I thwefore begged her, by the love she once bore you, to speak candidly, and at least give you a chance of defending yoursdf." She then informed me, " that during your absence at the seaside, she had requested the assistance of several young ladies of the town to assist her in d .^orating her rooms for a dance which she was giving. Whilst they were engaged she had regretted in very warm terms your absence, because of your taste in arranging flowers. During this discussion, she was asked by a Miss Vicars, ^ How she oould think so much of you?' declaring, - ^\ your love for her was all hypocraoy, and only professed for what she gained by it. Miss Yicars then proceeded io infonn Mrs. Stanley that you had yourself told her, < that you would never have asked her to have stood sponsor for your little girl, only for the handsome presecis you expected to get ftom her,' adding, that was the only thing which could make amends for the lectures which you said you were sure to receive from her as its godmother. She also added that you had-expressed a conviction that Mrs, Stanley was jealous of you, for you knew that she had hwself said so, and many more things Miss Vicars said whioh I have no patience to repeat. Mrs. Stanley then requested Miss Vicars to say whether what she had asserted was in reality true? because, if ■0, she would never notice you again. This was evidently all Miss Vioara required, and as she positive V Asserted that you had sidd all this to herself, Mrs, Stanley^ both her pride anA affiaotioii wounded, unfortunately took it for granted, that what was 19 pofttiyely Mierted, must be tru«, and the convQcsattofi yiNTH COMMANDMENT. 71 dropped, for Mrs. Stanley's feelings seemed so hurt, that the young people were afiraid she would give up the party, a thing by no means desired." <' This, then, is Mrs. Stanley's account; it now remains for you to contradict or confess its truth." Words would be all inadequate to express my horror at this tale of slander, and it was so long before I could compose my self to speak, that Mrs. Summerville thought it best to leave me for a few hours; and promising to call in the evening, left me to ponder over a tale which well nigh drove me frantic. But it was not the tale, bad as it was, wh' h so hurt me; it was the feeliug that Mrs. Stanley could believe me capable of such conduct; could she then have so little faith in my love for her, that she would condemn me on mere assertion ? Could she cast me (^without a word of defence? This was the bit- terest sting of atl, and it was long before I could calm myself snflSciently so as to be able to remember what I had really said to Miss Vicars. I recollected distinctly being asked by that young lady why I had not had Mrs. Stanley for my boy's godmother? and that I had told her, <' that as he was the first grandchild, I wished him to be named after my father, who had been his sponsor, but that I should dearly like to have hCr stand for one of my little girls, only that I felt such a delicacy in asking her, as I well knew, that from frequent conversation which I had had with her, that she entertained a very serious sense of the responsibility Incurred, by undertaking the office of sponsor in baptism. I knew her Idea was, that sponsors should really fsel that responsibility which our church originally designed that they should feel; and that parents do not generally con- sider, that by appointing any one to that office, that they actu- ally give them authority to enquire into the religious education of their children. Another thing I also dreaded, lest she rilould think I was expecting too much from her generous affeo> tion to me, for she was always loading me with pioois of her love-^-4Mid I possessed a morbid honor of imposing on her kind- ness. ; Miss Vicars. I reoolleoted, at the time laughed heartily at what she was pleased to term *^ my squeamish affootationj** Mid Mid) ^flluit Mrs, Stanley was the yerj fefmm to Mk) ¥ !» ■> 12 NINTH COMMANDMENT. because she was rich enough to make her godchild handsome presents." Such an idea never entered my brain, for I only thought of the real va)ii3 of the udvice T was sure to reoeire from one so much my ttuprrlor, acd felt sure that should any- thing happen to me, my IHVm baby ^M would find an alliE«> tionate guardian in my Urlrj^eC hin'^-n). However, I was sparbd tho task of requ6«tting her, by hertM^lf <^ring to become sponsor. Gladly did I n8ent, for I knew she would fhlfll to the letter what she promised at the font, and that was all I asked or wished for. As regards tht^ othc r assertion, made by Mxss Yicars; tbo only way I oould ee-count for it, was, that during a visit from her one af 'noon, Mr. and Mrs. Stanley had drivea up. Mr. Stanl^ty haa promised me some cuttings from a very rare plant, and had just stepped in to give me instructions about them; when Mrs. Stanley in her usual play- ful manner, declared, << she was getting quite jealous of mo« for that her husband would not even cut the plant for her." Some pretty complimentn from Mr. Stanley must have excited Miss Vicar's envy, or she could not thus have misrepresented the simple affair. Why tthe thus bore false witness against me, and turned a few simple words in judgment against me, ' is more than I can account for. Miss Vicars was not a fovorite of mine, but she never received anything but courteous treatment, whenever she chose to visit me. On Mrs. Summerville's return in the evenini^ I related every thing exactly as it happened, and as neariy word for w(nd as it was possible for me ta remember. Mrs. Bummerville then invited me to accompany her on a visit to. Mrs. Stanley's, to which I gladly assented, and she fixed three o^clodc the next afternoon to drive me over. Miss Vicars was at this time staying with a lady some five miles ont of town, to whose hus- band's brother she was soon to be united. I felt extremely reluctant to go to Mrs. Stanley's unless armed with ftill proctf of the truth oi my assertions. I thertfore drove over early in the morning to Mrs. Wentworth's, where Miss Vicars was stay- ing, and requested a private interview with her. I cannot tell you all I said, or how she endeavored to deny the charges brought against her; but they were all too wdl founded, and sh«. found it ttseleii to contest it. I insisted thai she shfr m my nurse that Mary had given her a great deal of trouble; and I was aston- ished one afternoon, as i sat at my window, to see her in the garden with the children, with her hair in long curls, a quan- tity of bright colored ribbon in her cap, and a dress on which was most unbecoming her station. I immediately summoned my upper nurse, to enquire into the reason of Mary's changed appearance, and was told that, since I had been laid aside, she had formed an intimacy with the housemaid of a lady, who had filled her head with such a love of fine dress, that it was leading her to covet things which her wages aid not warrant her purchasing, and therefore she had foolishly contracted a debt of sixteen shillings, in order to enable her to purchase the dress which I now saw on her. I immediately sent for hfir mother, who was, as I well knew she would be, exceedlqgl; angry with Mary, and insist, a upon her hair being agilii TBNTIt C0MIIA)n>lIS2nP. 79 braided up under hor cap, or sbo W'Quld vut It «U oft" Mary knew her mother would be oboyDd, 00, after « great deal ct crying, and silly argumontfl on her «ide, to which lln. BkLred paid no attention, she did so; and a neat calieo • i "ted me in the most courteous manner, to walk over to Mai. > ( *rt-' strengthened my suspicions as to her guilt about the more valuable articles. I wrote to Mrs. Vincent informing her of the non-success of my errand, and thought it right to mention the affair of the night-dreRs. The next day a search warrant was issued by Mi\ Vincent, as his wife was confident she had these jewels on at the time of th accident. However, nothing was found to criminate Mary, and here the matter dropped. I wouldnotbe ^ (tM'dL^ 80 easily satisfied myself; Mary's conduct was too bold and c?n- fldrat to please me ; any one accused of such a crime would have been overwhelmed with shame had they been innocent. I must say I had no faith in her innocence, although I had no H TENTH OOMMANDMBVT. ]^roof of her guilt. Her genenJ dememour ocmd«nined her in my eyes, and yon will bow see I was right in my suspicioTis. A few weeks after the aflidr had cear M to interest the gossip- loving portioB. of oar town, the polieeman, who had been on the watch ever i^nce, discovered the missing articles at a pawn- broker's in the city of N , and he immediately identified Mary as the person who had sold them to him. Mary's career of sin and folly was now brought to a crisis; had she given u|: these articles, Mr. Vincent, in consideration of her kind nursing of his wife, would never have prosecuted her; but now he had no alternative, and Mary was hurried from her pretty, ccoifort- able cottage again to become the inmate of a prison. Counsel was employed and everything done which could be consistently by all her Mends, but the circumstances of trust in which Mrs. Vincent's illness had placed her, and her former conviction, operated so strongly on the mind of the Judge, that he sentenced her to fourteen years transportation. I might lengthen out this tale by telling you of all her motifs and husband's agony, but such is not my intention; I m^by wl: t, in the sequel of this tale, to point out to you the danger all incur who indulge in the sin of coveting what they have no legitimate means of procuring — it is almost sure to end in > lin. We often read of murder being committed by people who, not being able to obtain the property of another by f<%ir roieans, resort to force to compel them to yidd, — ^thus taidng the life God has given, and leading themselves to the 8ca£(bld. If we will not fight against our sinftil propensities, and at God's footstool humbly pray to be delivered from temp- tation, we can expect nothing but to beccme the prey of our own evil dispositions. We have now come to the conclusion of the consideration of the ten commandments, and eameelly do I trust that I have succeed^ in interesting you bo that yoit will lay these things to hea/ 1. Thidse tales I hope will wamm as well as im^ract you. They are not tale i invented for the purpose; but all the characters are well known to me; some of them are living now; and while, on one hand, yon see tbe certain end of evil cottrws, yOTijril), on the other, discern all the benefit of good exasnple. 1 jp|i ihe nncerest interest in yon all| iwd mc9t eafoestl/ do I TENTH COMMANDMENT. 85 pray God that he will, in his infinite mercy, bless mj humble endeavors to illustrate these his own commandments, and that he will bless you all with the rich knowledge of himself, and enable you so to restrain all your evil passions that you will fear to break one of the least of them, for in so doing you must remember our Saviour's declaration — " That you are guilty of alll" \5 drwjrttttal Ml\miuim». SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. ^^JBoast not thyself of io-morroWf for thou knoweat not what a day may bring forth."— ZlvB oh. Pbotbrbs Sol., 1st t. I am now, at yonr request, about to commence a series of tales, intending to illustrate the various verses of Scripture as they may be chosen. The verse for our present consideration is, as you all know, taken Arom the Proverbs of Solomon, and it contains a mqst solemn injunction, whether you regard it in a worldly or spiritual sense. To put off till to-morrow what ought to be performed to-day, is, to say the least of it, a very foolish and often dangerous practice. Who is sure of to-morrow T Oh I that I could impress on your minds, my dear girls, the urgent necessity there is to seek €rod while He may be found; do not wait till you are older— -you may never see the time when you will feel inclined to quit the service of Satan for that of Christ. You have so many warnings of the uncertainty of life daily and hourly before you, that you must have, in many instances, been convinced of the truth of the verse we are now about to consider. How often have you seen carried to the grave, one, who but a few days before was in the full enjoyment of health, and with as fair a prospect of long life before them as you now possess. Ton have also iseen rich people suddenly reduced fix)m affluence to poverty, as well iM the poor man raised to a state of comfort and happiness. All this shows how uncertain everything is in this transitory life; therefore, do to-day what you have to do, for to-morrow^s suii may find you " sleeping the sleep which knows no waking.'* I will now relate a short tale, which I trust will impress dit your minds more fiilly the danger of procrastination. We are told that it is « the thief of time," Jand most assuredly ^1 find it 80 who foolishly put off any duty which should have beeh performed tb-day. 90 BCRIPTtlRAL ILLUSTllJlTlONS. Frank Mildnay was a young tn:. ' of very respeotablo parentage, and bad recelTed a better olucation ihan most young men in his station of life were in thv habit ot obtaining, and would doubtless Sme b^ti an excellent scholar, but for his silly habit of po«r>>oning everything. His 1 tssons were always behind hand, and more than half his holiday time was taken up in preparing tasks which could have t)een as easily learned the day before, for he was a boy of good abilities, and quickly committed anything to memory; on the plea of this, today's lessons were postponed until to-morrow, and conse- quently he seldom kept his place at the head of hio class. It would have been well for Frank if this habit, bad as it was, had only affected his school dtiys; but it strengthened with his riper years, as all faults will, when not checked in the bud. When Frank was seventeen, his parents apprenticed him to a carpenter and builder, and as he was a very good natnred, obliging fellow, he became a great favorite with his master, who, though often seriously ALmoyed by Frank's bad habit of procrastination, never took any pains to correct him for it, except with a few sharp reproof^ aud a threat of punish- ment, which was never carried into execution. Frank soon got used to this, and the consequence wat»s he remained as careless as ever. I could, if I had time, relate & great many instances of Frank's folly in this respect during his apprentice- ship; but one will suflSce to convince yov. how much inconvenience and even danger may be incurred by this inexcusable habit of procrastination. A farmer called on Frank's master one morning on his way to market, and requested him to send one of his young men to .assist in propping the floor of his bam, which, owing to the weight of hay, seemed to be in danger of falling. Frank being just then at hand, was told by his master to fetch his tools and go immediately, as he had business some miles away. Frank went into the shop to get his tools, but thinking, as usual, that an hour hence would be soon enough, determined to finish some work which, being promised, his master had supposed completed yesten ay, and he expected eve 7 minute that it would be sent for. ./rank had scarcely completed the job, when one ot the farm servants came to know the reason of his delay. He went SO»n»TtJ!lAL ILLtTSTttATTOKS. 91 way en to o tbe being and Trank that some leted sent 1 the wdnt then, but it was too late; the floor had f^ren way, two valuable horses had been killed, and one of the hired men had with difficulty escaped with his life-^haviflg had his leg severely ftactnred by the pressure of one of the beanisi Frank's services were then of no avail«^the mischief which could have been averted but for his procrastinating carelessness, could not be amended by his present alacrity ; one>half of it given at the right time would have prevented all the mir j.^.'f which accrued. It is impossible to neglect our duties t i/.t hvy inity ; ho^«' lightly we may at the time think iv; ><:.), Hunt', there al 'nes a time, and too often when we least ijjipeet it, Mi made to feel most bitterly how much of our pr< ry is caused by our past neglect. Frank's master was, as you may suppose, exceedingly, angry with him this time; he had overlooked many instances of his conduct in this respect, merely because the results had not been detrimental to himself, but now he found that he lost a great deal of his custom, because his apprentices could not be depended upon. But as he had taken no pains to correct Frank of this fault, he ought not to have acted so unjustly as to dismiss him before his term of apprenticeship was ended} but he did so, and Frank returned to his parents without any desire to amend this fault, which had become almost second nature. Frank had an only sister, of whom he was passionately fond; she was so many years younger than himself, that she had always been a pet and playing, and he would do anything to please her. She was a very delicate child, owing to an accident which had injured her spine when a baby. Frank had r dde her a nice little cart, which she could propel along when seated in it, and many hours she spent in the lanes and fields, which must have been spent in the house had it not been for the thoughtful kindness of brother Frank. There was one spot Amy delighted in, and this was a beautiful grove; a wide stream of water divided it from the field, and the plank bridge which spanned it was of quite sufficient width' to allow Amy's little cart to carry her safely over, and taking a book she would spend many a happy afternoon in her chosen soli- tude. Amy was very fond of her brother, and it pained her ■m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I III u 140 125 2.0 HiolDgraiM: Sciences Loporalion 23 WKT MAIN STMIT WIBSTIR.N.Y. UStO (716)t72-4S03 ^ 80RIPTUBAL ILLtTSTSAnOlffi. fefllDetioiiate little heart to hear him blamed for a fault fthe was too young to kliow the daager of* Frank used to work itor me fteqaently. He was rety handy, and I liked him ft>r his loving car6 9f his erlpplM sister. Many were the leetnres I used to read him on his besetting sili) and he always listened most respectfully to all I used to say, although I well knew that the impression wot^ld weitr off •Imost as aoon as he left ma I heard of an excellent sftnation , Ibr Frank about three miles fh>m where I iMded. and I Uras pleased to obtain it iw him, although I Mt it my duty to warn Ms master of his peculiar habit At. Jones said "that if hp was a good workman," (itnd no one could deny that,) "he would engage to keep him strict to his duties." So Frank %as hired at liberal wages, and came to thank me for what he tailed " my generous interposition in his behalf." As he 1^ my house, I told him that before he started to his new place, I foit very anxious that he should examine the railing of the.lHridge over which his little sister went every dtty, as I had remarked^ tlie last time I walked that way, that It wcs Vefy unsteady. He pkanised me to see to it that vdry evening, and for once I felt sure he would keep his wordy for I W€U knew that he would attend to anything likllly to endanger his darling idster. Frank left, and I did not see any of the fomily for several weeks, owing to my absence from hokhe; Imt heard upon my return that Amy had been ve^ Ul| so one ibeautilbl afternoon I thought I would walk to the cottage and tee her. As I wished to call on a lady, instead of going straight there, I went by the fields, so that I w«Nild readi Amy's cottage by the grove, and thought it even probable that I tidght And hat in her favorite resting place^ as she- was well eiM>ugh to his out I was told. It was a lovely afternoon, the birds inreke singing, and the warty hum of the bees mingled with the gurig^ittg of the riViilet which emptied itself Into the stream I had to pass over in ordor io reach Amy's cottage. Tb» thought struck moaslwtilkod i^ong, whether Fraid: had attended to my request about tiie railing of the bridge; and some strange presentiment seMi^ to take possesion of me, whieh I vainly endeavoured to shake off. I ocmld not account for iiio feeling, I was ill my waM soRimnuii iiiLnsTBATioirB. li0iJtii and BpiritSy and eyerything around me was teeming. with lilb and beauty. I sauntered slowly along under the trees^ fi)( tbe afternoon was very hot, and I felt unwilling to emerge from thdr gratefiil shade. I came at last in dg^t of the bridge^ imd tbe first thing I saw was that it was unprotected by anjt railing. Hastening on, I found to my .horror, that the Utttt oact in which Amy used to ride, was in the water, and when X stood iq»ou the planks, I oould plabily diatinguish the little giit herself lying at the bottom of the stream. The owt had eri* dently run against the rail, which had given way under the pressure. It was the work of but a few minutes to draw Axaj; tfOffi, h^ watwy gprave^ for it was not deep, and almpMi apy (^4, OQuld have got out, Imt Apy being a or^»ple^ could not etxitrilioat^ bers^, and, consequently iraB. dn^wned, for life muiRfe hi^ye beei^ extinct some tim^ ere I even reached the grove. , . Th«»wa8 no person near, and I felt unwilling to leave tli» littte corpse until some one could be sent to carry the sad news to tiie mother's cottage. Fortunately a boy passed just tiien, whol was looking for some sheep, and it struck me in an iimtMif ttat it was his carelessness which was partly the causeof the accident. The sheep had probably rushed over tiie bridge at the same time with Amy, j^red^tating her c i|e3Ft Saturday, having obtained a holiday for the ezpiees p«rH pose o^T mending this railing," for he said, ^' he had no time to; do it {ttoperly bef fl^l} that truth was therein all its painflil certainty. t: Frank returned to his place soon after the Aineral, and I^; heard very little more about him. Time passed away, and he' became his own master, and returned to his native town to' ccmimence burinees for himself. He had married a veryre^" tpectablf young girl, who had been servant for years in his mas- ter'a family, and she made me smile the very first time I saw her^ by telling me ^' that the very day they manied, Frank had ao> tttiUly to leave the minister waiting at the altar, whilst he ran to the shop to purchase the ring, he having intended buying it thi. day previous, but thinking there was plenty of time, put It oi^ till »t last he went to the ohujrch without it. i; '^r, ^'t Fortunately for Frank, his wife was a very pious youn)^ woman^ aad I felt sure she would try to turn his attention to sMwttdng beyond the mere danger he incurred by hili proonuH^ tinating habits in worldly matters. For, alas I Frank, like' many others^ thought there was plenty ct time to tikink about religloa; butohl I ask you, areany of you too young* to dioti It would take me too long to tell of att his wife's str^iggies to brtog him to the serious consideration of tihie more lasting' things of eternity, but bis habits were too deepiv rooted to be^ easily erased, and he became quite angry at times when die' would oommenoe the suli^t She was a very superior yonngx woman, anu havingformany years attended the Sabbath School^ ' ike neoessity of seeking God had taken deep root In her mind; and she most earnestly desired that her husband should, wi(b herself, partake of the joy and peace of believing. Frank was exceedingly kind to his wife, and willlnglygrant* ed he^ every indulgence his meant wenld allow of; he was >l» SCRIFTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 95 very temperate, and shunned aU bad company. This, he thought, was quite sufficient claim to Heaven, like the vain Pharisee who thanked God "that he was not as other men were." Frank was self-rigeteous, and prided himself upon hie freedom from all great sins, his generous actions, etc., thinking, alast as too many do, that his own good deeds were all sulft> cient to ensure an entrance into the kingdom of Heaven. Frank Miidmay, I am grieved to be obliged to tell you, would not be persuaded of his fault, and as he grew older he grew more careless, until he was suddenly brought to conviction by an accident which cost him his life. Then he would have gladly given all his earthly possessions to have been aUe to recall his wasted time; maddened by pain and remorse, his sick bed was an awAil lesson on the rin of procrastination. He only leaKned when it was too late, the worth of the blessing by its loss; ^me to him now would have been wha^ said to have been to Queen Elizabeth, when, on her death-bed, she ezeldim- ed, '< Oh I time ! time 1 a world of wealth for an inch of time f' Oh I my dear pupils, be warned whilst time is yet yours. Seek God while He may be found, for the night cometh when no man can work. I was with poor Frank all the night before he died, his ffi/^y fevered hand grew cold in mine as I prayed with him through those solemn hours, which were so soon to dose on him fojM/Hit, How painfully was the verse verified in his case, that we nay not t< boast of to-morrow." He went forth to his work in the morning, blithe as a laris, with no caree on his mind, neg^eet- ing, as was his usual custom, to ask God's blessing on his law- All occupation, and in a short time was struck to tlie earth by the UkU of the building on which he was engaged. Three short days wen alone left him to make his peace with God, and as I dosed his eyes I could only think of the lines whidi seemed to me so painfoUy exemplified in his case^ — ** TiOM wai,— iB pMt,— tboo oanet not it reodl ; Time ki,— tboQ but.— Jmprore the portion imall ; ^ i^ Time diture ie not, nor may ever be ; Time present is the tmly time fbr thee.** i^ *if,< M m '4 ' / I N'.: SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. *uld not 1b^ expi^cted to see those faults which require the eveif' vratchf^l eye of a mother. Clara had also been much petted tind i^iled by the old nurse who had had the care of her from her bhrth, and tt bo could not bear to hear her blamed by the vdiy excellent person who was procured to teach her; so, unfortu- nately for Clara, she was left too often nnrebuked f6r tj^is serious fault in her character. I remember when I used to «pend the day with her, she would constantly be runninjg to ask t^e old nurse to find such and such a thing which we i^uired for our play, Clara not being able to recollect where ■ISb had left it; our enjoynfent would be marred by this, as half our day would be spent looking for articles which she had first misplaced, and then quite forgotten. It would have been well for her had she been required to find the articles she had loist, hilt her old nurse was always ready to wait on her darling, till Clara thought there could be no occasibii to think for herself. Her governess used to talk very seriously to het pupil upon this ffubject, for, said th&t excellent woman, « A life might be lost, nirdugh your inveterate habit 6f careless inattention to what * . you promise. " Alas! how little did Clara then think thalher 4l • {(ovemess' warning would not only be iuYfilled to the veiy IdtteV, t^u^ that it would be a life long cause of misery to loff and! One (^tiiiected with her. It was when Clara had attained her sixteenth year, that the jbom. At last he rose to go, saying, « he had many patients to visit," and laughingly expresKed a hope << that we should have decided upon the respective merits of our babies before he returned honie to dinner." As he went into the hall for his hat, I saw a man come with all speed to the surgery door, and pointed him out to Clara, who, to my astonishment, turned so deadly pale that I feared she was going to faint. In a minute the oiootor re-entered the room, and laying his hand on his wife's shouldw, asked whether the man's tale was true, that she had fidthihlly promised to send him some two hours since?" Poo^ Mrs. Stanhope could only look the guilt she felt. " For your saktf, Clara, I hope it is not too late," exclaimed the doctor, as he looked at her with a face in which grief and anger struggled A)r mastery. However, no time was lost then, the doctor har- ried the man into his carriage and drove rapidly off, leaving us the not very pleasing task of listening to all Clara's vain repinings and self-reproaches. When the doctor returned, the 103 SORIPTtJBAL ILL08TRATION8* words ** too Ute" were loaroely uttered, ere Clara fell forward la a fainting lit. It was long before she could be recorered IVom it, and tlien so deep was her remorse that reason trembled in the balance. I remained with her some time, and as I wa« nursing, performed, at the doctor's request, that duty for his boy, until the mother was in some degree recot ered. Clara nerer ibrgave herself that drjadftil error; she beard ftfom the doctor that timely assistance might have saved the dead baby. He wisely spared her nothing; he told her of the parents rarllings of her as the cause of their misery, and of his own lacerated feelings, when he found upon bis arrival that flirough the ignorance of the neighbors, nothing had been done to relieve the little suflbrer, who was Just gasping its last as he entered the room. This was a lesson Clara never forgot, it was long ere her husband could restore her to his love and coa^ lldenee, and a severe mental illness was the consequence. But slie arose flrom her bed a sadder, wiser woman. She sought kelp where alone it could be found, and at the throne of graoOi humUy sued for pardon and strength to amend. As soon as ■he conld go out her first visit was to the mother of the dead ehild, and there, at her feet, she so humbled herself^ that the poor woman bade her rise, and go in peace, declaring <work, and I having, just at that time, an over-plus on hand, gladly took advantage of her wish to earn a trifle. , i : ' * IVas much pleased with the gentle manners of the two sis- ters, who willingly undertook to do my work for what I consid- ered a very small remuneration. The poor mother was a dread- bfal sufferer from chronic rheumatism, which had entirely con- fined her to her bed for some years past. Pain rendered her peevish and discontented, but the dutiful daughters nursed her with untiring tenderness and patience, and when, at length, it pleased God to release her, regretted sincerely that their labour of love wws ended. Mary and Susan, upon the death of their mo- ther, removed into a small cottage not very far from where I lived. As they were very much respected they obtained as much nee- dle work as they could do. Nothing could exceed the care they took of little Lucy, who was really a beautiful, interest, ing child; it would have been hard to pronounce which loved her best, her mother or her aunt. When she was about ten .1, fetan of age, her mother called on me one afternoon and show- <^ edmea letter which she had just received from her brother, from whom they had not heard for yenrs. He told them that SCRIPTURAL ILLl RATIONS. 107 he was on his way back, and intended paying a visit to his old home. Now there was something in the whole tenor of this letter which I did not like. I could not acconnt for the feeling of distrust which seized me, for I had never seen him, and he was a mere lad when he left home. Mary talked long and eagerly of her delight in having her darling brother to live with them as a protector, and I listened attentively to her relation of fill the good qualities he possessed. But Mary seemed quite to fot- get how many years had passed; that the boy was now a man, and might have become totally forgetful of all those good prin- ciples which had guided him when under the watchAil eye of love; but I did not of course venture to express my opinion. It would have been cruel to crush all Mary's fond hopes, on the mere puspicK)li engendered by his letter. A few weeks afterwards I heard that John Hastings had ar- arived, and I certainly wondered why Mary had not been over to tell me the good news, but supposing she was so oveijoyod to see her brother, I thought I would go myself and inquire for some work I was just then much in need of. As I approach- ed the cottage I was astonished by hearing loud screams firom Lucy, whom I scarcely ever heard cry, for so gently had she been nurtured that tears were almost strangers to her eyes. I knocked several times ere I was heard, and then the door was opened by a tall, rough-looking young man, whose face was so disguis<)d by a quantity of black beard that I could scarcely distinguish his features. Upon entering and inquiring for Mary, she came forward, and with tears in her eyes said, ^'This is my brother, Madam; and I am afraid you will be displeased at my keeping your work so long, but I have not felt well enough to finish it, but will do so as soon as possible." I expressed my willingness to wait a few days longer, and then turned to speak to her brother, who, to my astonishment, held out his dirty hand, and accosted me with the most insolent familiarity. Fearing to hurt poor Mary's feelings, I took no notice of this, but asked her, *'What occasioned the cries of her little girl ? for I feared she was hurt." Before she could answer me John Hastings declared, « That the little brat should be locked in the coal-cellar, for she screamed for nothing, only "SkJ*!*^ 108 SOBIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. because he had attempted to kiss her." I remarked, <ver her a forced lejond a I always lowledge rove him n to the hil in his a sense remained om with hout her was fast ' mother nncle to iGod. I ther once suflSeringa could not ruggling, inded the Four days after her death, John Hastings expiated hie crime on the Bcaflfold; hardened to the last, he would not consider his punishment jnst, because he had committed the crime in a moment of passion — its not being premediated pravented it in his eyes fh)m coming under the appellation of murder. Surely he forgot that Cain, the first murderer, had killed his brother in a moment of passion, for we are told '' That Cain was very wroth." That was no excuse in the eyes of Grod; he was branded as a murderer, because he had spilled the blood of his brother. Mary returned from the burial of her brother, to be present at that of her darling child. Oh I what a weight of grief that poor heart bore, but it did not break. Her dear Saviour's blessed invitation sunk deep into Mary's heart, and she resisted not his gentle command, <* To cast all her burden on him." She had now seen the cold grave close over all that she loved and cherished on this earth ; for her sister and child she could feel nothing but certainty of their happiness. But her brother — her dear, darling brother, whom she had so loved, whose memory had been so fondly treasured through ail his weary years of exile, whose faults had been kindly and gently borne with, whose deep humiliation of position she had done her best to soothe, and whose departing hours she had watched with untiring devotedness and zeal — ^forhim her soul was filled with the deepest anguish, for one horrid thought filled her breast — " She deemed bis parted spirit was not blest.'' It was only in these moments that Mary's faith and hope seemed shaken, and she would clasp her hands in convulsive agony, as she in voiceless prayer, vainly wrestled with her deep despair. Mary survived only a few months the last sad event of her life; consumption had marked her for its own, and she gradu- ally sunk beneath its power. I attended on her sick bed for weeks, and thanks be to Grod who enabled me to do so with all my many cares. But Mary's death bed was a scene well calcu- lated to instnict and improve any person, so strong was her faith in the gospel promise. I was with her in that awful hour of mingled hope and fear, when her soul took its disembodied flight. Peace had descended on her heart again, after hours 114 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. of 8tni£glin£ with tho tomptor'H power. Many a text teom the Holy Book had 1 read to her that night, but not one could brighten the eye and cause the lips to smile' equal to that which I, at her request, repeated as the breath faintly departed— <'>mon sa> " ' What will riches profit a man in the day of wrath ? I(u that trusteth in them shall fall." And again, <'A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold." Do you not think that the blessing of those who were ready to perish, whom you snatched from despair and misery, will give you more comfort on your death bed, than If you could, by a stroke of your pen, leave thousands upon thousands to your posterity? However, as I In a former 118 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. SI I tale spoke of the folly of trusting in riches, and proved to you that if rightly used, they were capable of doing much good, I will now try to convince you how little comfort they are ca- pable of giving in that hour which, sooner or later, must come to all; that hour in which the treasure laid up on earth is taken away, and leaves you without one plea for mercy. Mr. John Tillett was man who would have felt b'mself highly insulted if called b^ any other title than that of a gentle- man. K. lived not more than a mile and a half out of the town where I resided. The house itself, and grounds around it were capable of being made exceedingly pretty had any one taken the least pains to do so; but. Mr. John Tillett was, in the true sense of the word, a miser. He loved his gold for its own sake, and not for any good which it might enable him to do with it; that was an idea too ridiculous to be entertained for a moment; to relieve any distress by either a loan or a gift, I feel sure never entered into his calculations He was not likely to give comfort, which, to do him justice, he denied himself, for he spent no more than was absolutely necessary to keep body and soul together. He could get no person to stay with him for any length of time, because he gi^udged the means of their snbsist- ance. He had accumulated large sums of money by advanc- ing it on mortgages, and demanding usurous interest, and then foreclosing without m«rcy as soon as they fell due. He showed mercy to no man where money came in question. "His treasure was," as our Saviour declares, <'on earth, and there was his heart also." He had an only sister, who lived some five miles distant from him; this poo. girl had incurred his anger by uniting herself with a man who possessed no other means than his own industry, a thing altogether contemptible in his eyes, and I believe he took a savage delight in witnessing her struggles with poverty, when, after a few years of peaceful contentment with their lot, her kind husband left her, to enjoy the more lasting happiness of the world beyond the tomb. She made but one appeal to her brother, nothing but the slckneas of her children would have tempted her to have done so, but the poor mother could not see her babes per- ish before her eyes, although she herself woidd sufifer alone and SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 119 unaided. This was a great triumph for Mr. Tillett, to have his sister sue for a portion of the wealth which she affected to despise as being all necessary to insure happiness. How often had she told him, " That she was far happier in her poverty, than he was with all his wealth, for he could not expect Grod's blessing on riches wrung from the bitter necessities of others. How he laughed her to scorn as she begged a small pittance from his store to keep her little ones from starving. " What to him if they all died ? Let her ask help of the unseen God in whom she trusted, and not in the visible wealth she despised! a single sixpence of which should never leave his purse to save her or her beggar brats from the work house." Now, my dear girls, let mo ask, do you suppose Mr. Tillett had ever read that verse in St. John's epistle, in which he speaks so much of our bounden duty to love one another, and after having told us how we perceive the love of God, inasmuch as he laid down his life for us, he continues, <' But whoso hath this world's goods and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?" But I am sure you will believe that he cared little for the love of God, doubtless, like the rich man in our Saviour's parable, his whole soul was absorbed in the goods which he had laid up, the treasure he had accumulated; he might say to his soul, << take thine ease, eat, drink and be meiTy," for he cast not a thought on the God who could say, << Thou fool, this night thy soul s^all be required of thee." Mr. Tillett was seized with severe sickness not very long after he had thu^ sent his sister " empty away," and it was with some difficulty that any per- son could be procured who was willing to go and take care of his house and attend on himself. At last a widow woman of the name of Rose, who was not in needy circumstances, con- sented fur an annual sum and board wages, to be his house- keeper, and after a great many efforts on his part to reduce her salary to the lowest fraction, a settlement was made, and Mrs. Rose proceeded to render the house as comfortable as a liberal supply of soap and water could make it. Although Mr. Tillett possessed chests of linen, etc., he would not allow any to be taken out for his housekeepei*'s comfort; he would not go one fraction beyond his bargain, and she was forced to submit. It 120 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. M/ was a mystery to me how sho could live with such a disagreea- ble man, for I do not think he ever spoke a kind or civil word to any one; but that was her own business; whether she expected to inherit his carefUlly hoarded wealth, was only a surmise, for she scarcely ever mentioned his name when she came to see me, which she did occasionally for the purpose of getting me to write letters to her son who was abroad. Mrs. Rose remained with Mr. Tillett for six years, much to the surprise of many, and in spite of the various prognostica- tions to the contrary. But Mrs. Rose was a quiet person and never interfered with her master's peculiarities, and as she cooked what he bought for himself without remonstrance or demur, I suppose he thought it best to let well alone. I could not tell you all the cmel usages inflicted by this man, to add to his store of wealth; how many widows and orphans were defrauded, and their whole property swallowed up by him in the same rapacious manner in which some animals devour their prey. He was never known to give one sixpence xj|)l£,^ to any charitable institution, or to the means of dispensing bounty to the suffering poor. But nothing caused him such joy as to pass by his sister's cottage and see her plying her needle to find bread for her boys. Her pale face and emaciated form was his greatest source of gratification, and rendered doubly so by the knowledge of his power to place her in competence; but she had dared to despise his weaitih and he would make her suffer for it. Yet did never a thought of his joyless, lonely life cross the mind of this solitary man as he looked at the rosy faces of his nephews? Poverty could not disguise their stalwart limbs, or hide the glow of health which shone on every feature; did he never fancy what his life might have beeu had the merry voices of children echoed through his house? If he did he made no sign, but hardened his heart against his natural kin, and rejoiced in their adversity. Are you not shocked at such depravity? Can you fancy a brother condemning his only sister and her children to poverty, while he was steeped to the throat in riches? But did he not hurt his own soul more than he injured those he sought to per- SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 121 I ?■ secute? Hear what Solomon says, "The treasures of wicked- ness profit nothing, but righteousness delivereth from death. The lord will not suffer the soul of the righteous to famish, but he casteth away the substance of the wicked." Now you will see how the truth of this was fulfilled in Mr. Tillett's ease. One night I was sitting up with one of my little children, who was very ill, when that sound rung out on the midnight air, which is always so painful to hear — "Fire, fire." The i)ells tolled quickly, and in a few minutes the glare of fire illumined all around. It was some time before I could ascertain where it was, but at last could distinctly hear the people who had been roused from their beds crying, " That it was only Tillett's barns, let them burn." " The fire may as well consume the grain as the rats," another would say, "for not any of it willever feed a hungry mouth." And they laughed long and loud as they sought the shelter of their own beds, caring very little for the misfortune which was greedily destroying the property of a man who was so detested. The fire raged for hours, the barns full of wheat, granaries full of grain, and large stacks of hay all fell before the devouring element. No one seemed to care, no pity waa expressed, no help given ; so the fire was suffered to work its will, and desolate indeed was the scene which the morning light showed — the blackness of deso- lation, where yesterday all had been full and plentiful. It was supposed that Mr, Tillett caught a violent cold that night, which, added to his dispair, brought on a very serious illness. It was long before he would consent to see a medical man, as he declared that he would not be robbed by them. His disease increased with frightful rapidity, and he was urged to make his will, but the least mention of that was sufficient to throw him into a paroxysm of padsion. His violent ravings were so frightful to listen to, that Mrs. Rose declared " that she would not stay alone with him for three times her salary," and sent for her sister, an elderly maiden, to come and remain with her. Was not this man now reaping the fruit of the seed he had sown? Conscience, which for years he had stifled, now mad- dened him. It was sharper than a two-edged sword; he tried to shake it off, as he had done before, but it would not depart, he i i 122 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. was now afraid to be alone, he felt in all its bitterness the truth of that fearful denunciation, '< Because I have called and ye refused, I have stretched ont my hand and no man regarded, but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh." Mrs. Rose was almost worn out with watching and fear, and sent up to our house late one night with the request that my husbaad would go and stay a few hours, as Mr. Tillett was so violent that the poor women were really too frightened to stay. When arrived Mr Tillett was raving frightfully, and beg- ging thcioi to lift the money bags from off his breast, which he declared wore weighing him down with their load. His fancies were dreadful, and if they attempted to leave him, he would frighten the poor creatures by declaring, <e adjusted tomesteadi Icient tup- to habits ' time, and leaven, by ore. The >Dger; his > mother's Mt of her tht^t meii \\ SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. " The Lord is my Shepherd, therefore can I lack nothing." Psalm xxiii. 1. The beautiful Psalm from which this verse is taken, must bo productive of great comfort to all those who are in « trouble) need, sickness, or any other adversity." Our Saviour declares, '< I am the good Shepherd, the good Shepherd giveth his life for the sheep," therefore David ex- claims, '< the Lord is my Shepherd, I can lack nothing." How perfect was his faith, he expresses his firm conviction of being fed in green pastures, and led beside the waters of comfort, of the mercy and loving kindness of God following hira all tho days of his life, so that in the end he will not fear to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, because he felt that even there God would be with him. Oh ! that we all had more faith, how much less would our sufferings be.. How pure was David's belief in God's power and willingness to lift him out of the deep mire of affliction, and this faith caused him tc break forth in the beautiful acknowl- edgement, that as " the Lord was his Shepherd he need not fear." Is it not very sinful to be always repining at misfortune? which nine cases out of ten we bring on ourselves, either by our improvidence, carelessness or wilful neglect of our moat sacred duties. How many, by violating the laws of nature deprive themselves of the enjoyment of the inestimable bles- sings of health ; others neglect to take advantage of the means given them for advancement, whilst more will spend their wealth and time in amusements debasing to both soul and body. How diligently the mass of men seek the gratification of ''he 128 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. Bonses, as if there vras nothing nobler to strive for; the narrow path which leadeth to eternal life is shunned while thousand! travel the broad road which ends in destruction. I will now, in a short tale, endeavor to interest you in the faith of a young girl I once knew, who being struck down in the midst of life's foirest prospects, bore with meek submission that decree which doomed her to months of fearfUl suffering;, but who, in the midst of all, could, and did exclaim with David, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will featr no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me." Ellenor Maitland was the only daughter of a gentleman and lady with whom I was intimately acquainted. She was a vei^ lovely girl, clever and talented, and well worthy the love of all Who knew her. By her brothers she was almost idolized, till she was wont to say, <^that she feared they would all spoil her." But she was one of those amiable characters which ii tetoed impossible to spoil; she was too grateful for indulgence to abuse it, and too unselfish to wish to rule when all were willing to be her slaves. Mr. and Mrs. Maitland were remarkably kind and pleabaut- people, and what the world would call religious; that is, they were strict observers of all the forms of religion, moral and upright in conduct, just in all their dealings, charitable to the poor, and kind to all. Ellenor had been educated at home by a widow lady, whose husband had left her almost entirely des- titute, rendering it necessary that she should seek some means of support, and she gladly undertook to superintend the educa- tion of Miss Maitland, who was only eight years of age when she entered on her duties. Mrs. Masters found a most amiable and docile pupil in the little girl, and seeing how she was idol- ized by her parents and brothers, sought to imbue her infant mind with such pure Christian principles, as would tend to crush all that was selfish in her nature, and fill her with loving kindness to all. Mr. and Mrs. Maitland sought popularity; they were very generous, but frequency did more harm by their indiscrimi- nate kindness than good, they could not bear to be thoughi SORIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 129 unkind, therefore often relieved people when it would have been far better to send them to work, for by such means idleneea was encouraged, which is the root of all evil. Mrs. Maitland was one of those persons who had not sufficient coura^^e to say no, and it was well for her daughter that she was so early placed under the guidance of such a superior mind as Mrs. Masters possessed. The little girl was taught to see every thing in its proper light, and soon learned to do good simply because it was her Saviour's command, and not for the praise of men. Ellenor had attained her seventeenth year before I became acquainted with her, and was of course emancipated fh>m the regular routine of school room duties, although Mrs. Masters still continued to reside with her as her friend and com- panion. Ellenor was so attached to her beloved instructress that her parents felt it would be cruelty to separate them. Mrs. Masters loved her young pupil with the most devoted affection; her Christian character was the fruit of her own good training, and she felt how richly God had rewarded her labors. Ellenor was now launched into the gay world, her beauty and talents could not fail of bringing her universal homage, but Ellenor valued it at its own price, and infinitely preferred the quiet of her own happy home, to all the gaity of the world outside. Mr. Maitland was very ambitious, and consequently anxious that his daughter should make what the world calls a good match, and his pride was gratified when he found EUenor's hand sought in marriage by the eldest son of a baronet, who had been the college friend and companion of her elder brother. The haughty baronet smiled most graciously on his elegant daugter4n-law, and the marriage was fixed to take place as soon as Ellenor should attain her nineteenth year. Mrs. Masters, happy in the increased happiness of her beloved pupil, was most cordially pressed by Mr. Stafford to remain with Ellenor after her marriage. He could not be insensible to the value of such a friend for his young wife, or to the beauty of that religion which had done so much to form her character. Mrs. Masters could not resist EUenor's gentle pleading, which tallied so well with her own wishes, and she joyAilly acceded to a request which she felt was dictated by affection and given in all sincerity. 130 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. ThuH, everything was settled to the satisfaction of all parties, and bright and happy wore the pro.speots awaiting this young girl. No cloud darkened the horizon, all was lair and serene; the parent's ambition was gratifled bj the rank of the suitor; the brothers' most cherished wish, that their friend should win their sister was granted, no jealoui^ or envious bickerings dis- turbed the pence of the household ; the cup of happiness was flllod to the brim, all was joy and gladness, with no shadow of fear to darken the brightness of the future. I wish I could leave Ellenor liore, secure in her happiness, but, alas, my task is a sad one, to tell you of all the sorrow which descended on that bright homo. It was on its most cherished idol, its most lovely gem that the storm descended, scattering at one fell blow all the fond hopes, the fair prospects, dashing with unrelenting hand the full cup from the lips, ere its happiness was half tasted. It was just three weeks before the timi appointed for the wedding, that a large party assembled one morning at Mr. Maitland's, for the purpose of enjoying a pic-nic in the beauti- ful old abbey grounds some seven miles distant ftom the town. It was a most lovely day in June, and we all started In the highest spirits, <• On eager pleasure bent." I had the gratifi- cation of driving Mrs. Master's, she was a most delightful com- panion, and I never saw her in such exuberant spirits as she talked long and eagerly to me about the bright prospects of her darling Ellenor; a theme she never tired of. She also expressed great gratitude for her own happy lot, for she told me, when her husband died, that she had not the wherewith to procure a meal, and now, should anything happen at any time to part her from Ellenor, that she possessed a competency which would render her independent for the remainder of her life. Her gratitude to God, the all bountiful giver, was intense, <m running away, it needed all our presence of mind in this fearful storm. I knew that we were within two miles of the gravel pits and my terror was great lest if I slackened the reins, that the ponies would in their fHght run over the bank. But before we reached the pits, the storm had exhausted its fiiry, the thunder rolled at a distance, and the sun, bursting forth, shone with its glorious rays on a scene which flroie my blood with horror. Mr. Stafford's carriage was overturned on the very edge of the bank, and the horses were kicking furiously in their eflbrts to extricate themselves. Looking over the bank we saw Mr. Stafford and young Malt- land bearing the insensible form of Ellenor up the steep ascent, which was not accomplished without the greatest difficulty, as it was impossible for either Mrs. Masters or myself to render them the least assistance. But at last they reached the place where we were standing, and laid poor Elenor down on the grass, with her heaa resting on Mrs. Master's lap. The agony of these young men was painfbl to witnews, as they gave us an account of the accident. « The horses," they said, " had gone very quietly for a while, but as the vividness of the lightning increased, they had become altogether ungov- ernable, and backing down the hill with fearful rapidity, had overturned the carriage and precipitated poor Ellenor with great violence down the steep declivity into the gravel pits below."' Assistance was kindly rendered us by the inmates of a farm house near, as soon as they heard of the accident; the horses were released from their perilous position, and* a Utter K n I I 182 SCRIPTUBAL ILLUSTBATIOKS. prepared to convey the poor unconscious g^rl to the home which she had left a few hours since in such exuberant spirits. Can you not fancy the agony of the parents as they hung over the insensible body of their idol child? in whom appeared no sign of life, although the doctors declared that the vital spark had not fled. JUlenor lingered for days in this mournful state, hovering be- tween life and death, and when she awoke, it was to the sad consciousness that she was doomed to be a helpless cripple for the remainder of her existence. Icgury of the spine caused her at times such frightful suffering, that the mind almost gave way under the intensity of the anguish; and yet a murmur never escaped her pale lips. She used her most earnest endeavors to comfort her parents, who, in these words, rebelled •gainst this dread decree : << What had she done that her young life should be thus crushed out of her?" Mrs. Masters at this sick bed reaped the fulfillment of the promise, ** that what a man soweth he shall reap." She had 80 hedged this young girl around with the sense of €rod^s love, 80 filled her with trusting faith in his dealings, that although she left all the brightness of life, for a bed of fearfitl anguish, she yet feared no evil, for ehe felt that the everlasting arms were around her, that the loving kindness of God rested with her, and that « He would yet liead her forth beside tiie waters of comfort." I used frequently to go and sit up with the poor girl In order to enable MrsL Masters to snatch a few hours rest, for she could scarcely be persuaded to leave the dear sufferer for an instatft. Mr. and Mrs. Maitland could not look on her strug- gles which were such as apalled the stouteit heart, and Ellenor, in her unselfish wish to spare others pain, would aak to be left alone, but her faithAil friend stood by, doing all thai could be done, soothing her with loving words and wiping ttut damps of agony ft om off her brow. I have stood by her during these d)N»adful paroxysms, and prayed that her spirit might pass away in the fearful struggle, but Ellenor had yet to dzink the cup to the dregs. Mr. Maitland had sometime before this oQteEed lnto.# iq[>eoa« hition, which I w«U remembor fuMl mt»j qf the landed SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 133 proprietors by its total failure, and in order to raise money had heavily mortgaged his estates without the knowledge of any of his family. Ruin now stared him in the face. Just at the time when all the comforts of a home were needed for his suf- fering child. A manufacturer who had accumulated large sums of money by trade, was the one to whom the homestead had been mortgaged. His upstart wife had long been urging him to foreclose the mortgage, as she was ambitious to show off her newly acquired dignity, by playing the lady of the manor, and her husband, a coarse, narrow-minded, uneducated ipan, very much under the dominion of his would-be lady wife, intimated to Mr. Maitland this intention, unless he were not paid his money immediately. Poor Mr. Maitland, who had no security to offer in exchange for a loan, and too proud to solicit Sir Edward Stafford to afford him any relief, found himself obliged to inform his wife that their beautiful home had fallen into the hands of strangers, and that they must now seek an humbler one. Mrs. Maifr- land's consternation when she heard this is not to be described, nor is it necessary for me to enter into these details, as my object in this tale is merely to point out to you what faith in God's promises will do for those who trust in them, and what suffering it enables us to bear. I will therefore leave you to fancy all Mrs. Maitland felt, and proceed to tell you how EUenor acted when she heard that she must be removed fh>m the luxury which had hitherto surrounded her. Mr. and Mrs. Maitland could not but feel the value of such a friend as Mrs. Masters, or the beauty of the religion she pro- fessed. It was noW| when in trouble and distress, that she proved the sincerity of her love for Ellenor, her gratitude to them who had years before lifted her from the bitter wateijs of affliction. She insisted upon hiring a pretty house and receiv- ing them as her guests, until Mr. Maitland should in some measure have recovered from his difficulties. She then under- took to be the bearer of the tidings of the sad chapge to Ellenor, which was done in such a manner, that the poor girl only saw in it a firesh instance of God's tender mercy in providing for her helplessness. The removal was what all dreaded, but I waa delighted to find her no worse when I went to ^ee h^r the n^zt 134 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. n day. What she felt in parting from the happy home of her childhood was known to none but God. She added no reproach to fill up the measure of her father's grief. ^' How good God i^to me," she said one afternoon as I sat by her bedside. " He surrounds me with such tender care, such loving kindness, that he leaves me nothing to ask for; although my limbs are useless, my eyes are not darkened that I cannot see, or my ears deadened so that I cannot drink in the sweet assurance of his protecting care. If he has seen it right to unfit me for an earthly mission, may I not hope that he is pre- paring me for a heavenly one ? My life has been such a happy one, I have been the idol of all, goodness and mercy have fol- lowed me all my days, and now that I am nothing but a bur- den and trouble to all around me, I am still the object of tender care. My parents feel more what they have lost on my ac- count. 0! how I wish they would not fret for our earthly inheritance; how much better is the treasure God has laid up for us. Should we ever distrust him? See, he has prepared a table for c.a here, in the face of our enemies, has given us a friend when the world forsook us. Would that my beloved parents would look away from the things of this earth, to seek the inestimable joys of heaven." Thus, dear EUenor would talk, nothing could shake her trust- ing faith in God.; she bore her sufferings so meekly, trying to spare all those who loved her from witnessing what she knew full well wrung their fond hearts with anguish. As for Mr. Stafford, who looked upon himself as the indirect cause of her accident, it was found absolutely necessary to prevent his see- ing her, as he could not control his feelings, and it was thought then any mental suffering increased the violence of the parox- ysms. It was about 8e\ en months after the accident, that I one afternoon received a note firom Mrs. Masters, saying, that ^< EUenor had been so much worse for the last few days, that it was plain to all her strength was fast foiling, and she wished me to come and see her as soon as I could make it convenient." I had been on a visit to my mother, and had not seen EUenor for nearly six weeks, and I was indeed dreadfully shocked at her changed appearance. SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 135 She received me with her usual smiling welcome, but hor lips were already chilled with the coldness of death. Dear Ellenor was fast sinking to her rest, and joyfully did she hail the messenger which was to bring peace to the worn out frame. I remained with Mrs. Masters all night, her mission of love was nearly ended — she resigned it now to a more powerful master — even death. • The doctor came about midnight, and after a lengthened visit, I followed him out of the room and asked his opinion. I recollect his turning quickly round, and saying, while the tears rolled down his cheeks, "rejoice that her end is so near, nothing will give me such a feeling of relief as when I hear the passing bell, one more fearful struggle and all will be over." About four in the morning, dear Ellenor, who had been quiet since midnight, called me to her bedside, and asked me if Mrs. Masters was awake, and requested me to give her something to drink; I did so, and saw by the quiver- ing of the lips that one of those fearful struggles was about to rend her weakened frame. I rang the bell and Mrs. Masters was quickly at my side. " OhI God help me to bear it," cried the poor girl in her anguish. " Only a little while longer, darling," said her aJQTectionate nurse, " only a few minutes more, dear, to bear God's rod, and you will dwell in bis house forever." She then repeated the beautiful Psalm from whence our text is taken. Fearful and prolonged was the struggle, but it ended at last, and poor Ellenor laid exhausted on her pillow. The usual restoratives were applied, but Ellenor never rallied from this last shock. She whispered faintly but distinctly, " 1 am now walking through the valley of the shadow of death, but I fear no evil; God is with me. His rod and His staff they comfort me." About seven o'clock Mrs. Masters requested me to summon Mr. and Mrs. Maitland and the two young men, for it was plain that the end was drawing nigh. Ellenor's eyes brightened as her parents and brothers approached, who, hav- ing been warned to do nothing to excite her, stood silently around her bed. It was a cold morning in January; the light of day was just struggling in, mocking the glare of the night- lamp-~the most (to me) painful time t$t those who keep their At Tigils by the bedside of suffering humanity. * ^ 136 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. Elleaor tried to t»peak, bat .the last i^mptom of her dread disease, paralysis of all the limbs, now asserted its power, and her tongue refused to give utterance to the loving thoughts which filled her breast. Mrs. Masters, the only one who seemed to retain her presence of mind, stood by her side, and softly repeated those comforting lines: What tongfie can tell, what fiuKv palat, The moment after death— The glories that surround the «sa)nt8, When yielding up their breath t One gentle sigh their fetters break, You ssarce can say they're gone, Before the willing spirit takes Its mansion near the throne. The sweet smile of gratitude lingered on dear Ellenor's lips as she listened to these words, the brightness of another world than ours shone in her loving eyes, the breath grew fainter and fitinter, till, calmly and peacefully as an infant sinks to sleep, dear Ellinor passed, away — away fh)m this suffering earth, to the joy and peace of heaven. I assisted Mrs. Masters In preparing her darling for the grave, and as we looked on her emaciated flrame which we had so often seen torn by the intensity of the pain endured for seven long months, we could feel naught but thankfulness that she had entered into her rest. It is not my intention to lengthen out this tale by following the fortunes of any of the actors in it; my object is tally effected in the patient suffering and peaceful death of EUenor. Let me, in conclusion, urge upon you the necessity of putting your trust in God, in exercising your faith. Remember He says, '< Ye are the sheep of my pasture." What a beautifUl assur- ance! Best ou H in security, my dear girls, and then may you exclaim with T>'^vi4, " The Lord is my shepherd, therefore oau I lade nothing." dread >r, and oughts seemed softly lips as world terand > sleep, xth, to br the we had r seven liat she (lowing effected Let me, g your e says, [ assur- lay you breoaiA \^i SCRIPTURAL illustrations: *' Remember now ihy Creator in the daps of thy youths while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, ! have no pleasure in them." — Eoglbsi- ASTICS, xii, 1. This beautiful verse forms a portion of the last chapter of the book of Ecclesiastics, which abounds in texts clothed in the chaste language of Scripture; and I trust, in the tale I am about to make use of in order to illustrate this verse, that I may be enabled to prove to you the happiness all enjoy who follow the precept contained in it. It is a short history of one of my 0,/n cousins which I have chosen, and may you in the contemplation of it be led to follow her example, who, although surrounded with every luxury which could render this world's pleasures tempting, yet, like Mary, chose that better part which is never taken away. Ellen Gliftbrd was the eldest child of my uncle and aunt, who resided in a most beautiful place in the county of N . Sir Anthony Clifford was very rich, but a pompous, purse^ proud, disagreeable man. When he married my aunt, she was a gay, yonng, thoughtless creature, possessing beauty enough to have won the heart of the most fastidious; but she knew nothing of his character, which was one ill calculated to render her happy. In a veiy short time the gay hearted girl sank into the poor, desponding, meek spirited woman, afraid of her husband's voice, and actually not daring to exert any will of her own. I do not remember anything very distinctly of the character of my aunt, for when I used to stay there, I was always in the school room with my cousins, who were all educated at home, and under the entire control of a very strict governess. Now, here I would just pause, to impress on your 140 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. m n Lt 1 I ' t i I i! * f I- mirdfl the privileges you all poBsess of being so much more under the watchful eye of a mother than was the fashion in those days. Education, also, was then a toll ; knowledge was ground into children, and the gotemess was far oftener chosen for the severity of her discipline than for either her talents or amiability. It was, indeed, a fearful mistake, and many a mother has had cause to rue the system. I am the more convinced every day, that so much more is accomplished by kindness than severity, that I would not titist the education of my children to any one they feared; experience has taught me that it has a most baneful influence on the pupil. I recollect we used to be confined to the school room from seven a.m. till eipht p.m., poring over studies we could not comprehend, and listening to the harsh threatenings of punishment, which we knew there was no escape from when once determined on by our hated governess. If asked to spend a few weeks with our cousins, it was expected that we should share a portion of their studies during our visit. All, therefore, that I remember of my aunt is, that she was exceedingly kind in manner to the young people, but she was so subject to low nervous prostra- tion, that she could not endure the slightest noise. Then, we wore required by the governess to be the very pinks of propri- ety, which I, for one^ never could or did attain to; and many were the severe lectures I used ~to receive lor my torn dresses and tangled curls, the natural consequence of clambering into places in which I had no business. Of my cousins I have little to say — they were all merry, good-natured girls, but kept under such restraint by a very severe governess, tnat when they could manage to escape from the thraldom which ear> rounded them, they were guilty of every extravagance, and would resort to any means to escape detection. Ellen, however, their senior by many years, was a girl of altogether a different character; her mother had during her infancy been so exceedingly ill, that Ellen had been placed out at nurse, and had imbibed all the religious principles of the Very excellent woman who had had the care of her. Although Mrs. Parker was only a cottager's wife, she was a most noble woman and pure christian. Most earnestly did she seek to ingraft on her nursling's heart, the all important necessity <) as out of a refiner's fire. Three days before she died I accompanied my mother, at her expresa desire, to be present at the marriage of Ellen, for Lady Clifford insisted upon its taking place during her life; for, as she told my mother, she felt certain Ellen would sacrifice all her happiness as a wife to be the mother of her motherless babe. It was a sad change to witness this once boautiftil young woman so worn by suffering that I should never have recognized ber; but the trial had been her salvation — she was perfectly resigned to the will of God, and calmly waited his time. It was then, in her room, into which death was so soon to enter, that the bridal ceremony took place. A sweet smilo illumined the face of the dying woman as she flung her arms around Ellen's neck and whispered her thankfulness that she ' saw her made happy. The scene was too melancholy and I was glad to leave the room, which I did not again re-enter until I stood, with my cousins, to see the last of Lady Clifford ere the coffin lid was closed; but there was not one of us who did not feel fully assured that she bad entered into that rest which is promised to all who cast theit burden on him who has declared, « that he will give them rest." I returned home soon after th«> Mineral, and as I was, myself, married the following summer, I saw nothing more of my cousin Ellen for some yeara, but I knew she had a gnat many trials to contend with. Her father was overwhelmed with debt, in consequence of his son's extravagance at college, and the beautiful estate, where I had spent so many happy hours, passed into th^ hands of strangera. The girls, having no one to guide them, made imprudent love matches, and were sepa- rated far and wide. Fanny and the last baby had died within a year after Lady Clifford. But poor Ellen's greatest trial was yet to come, and it was one, but for her faith in God, would surely have crushed her to the earth. Her beloved husband was killed by a railway accident, only a few days after she had been called upon to resign her eldest boy; his little body still laid unburied await- ing his father's arrival, who had been sent for and who was hastening home, to ponr sweet comfort into the stricken mo- o II' 146 80RIFTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. ther*! breast, when one of those fearAil collisions took place, which hurried him into eternity, there to meet his boy whom he was destined to see no more on earth. I did not see poor Ellen at that time, but heard Arom a ftiend of hers how, with her usual uselfishness, she had stifled all her sorrow to administer comfort to her poor broken hearted old father, who had become almost imbecile and totally depending on her for support. It was when she had been a widow some three years, that my husband, having business in that part of the country, I accompanied him to see my cousin Ellen. I found her very much changed in appearance; it was so grievous to see that beautiful hair confined under the close border of the widow's cap; but, although her face had lost much of the brilliancy of youth, there rested on it the same sweet smile, though of a sadder cast, which had always characterized it. She talked long and earnestly to me of the trials she had been called upon to endure, and proved, past all doubt, that it was her perfect iUth and trust in God which had enabled her to bear up under them. Attending on her peevish, discontented father was a task almost any one would have shrank from, because his mental powers were so weakened that nothing could satisfy him. No ibnd voice of a beloved husband was there to soothe her, for that was silent in the grave; no childish voice to lisp mamma, for both her little ones had died; and yet there was no gloom in Ellen's household; she delighted in the society of the young people of the parish, visited the poor, administered to all their wants with an unsparing hand, and had a smiling welcome for all. Tou have seen people, I am sure, who, when they have been called upon to endure any trial, have so wrapt themselves up in their own selfish sorrow as to make every one round them miserable. I have known many who, after some beloved child has been taken away, close up their shutters, hardly suifering the sun's rays to penetrate into the gloom which pervades the whole household; the merry laugh of children is checked almost before uttered, and the once cheerAil voice is changed to a piniug, discontented whine. Is not this as much as to say, SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 147 a task mental No ler, for lamma^ gloom young 111 their elcome God has no right to afBict met Sh&ll we then receive all good at his hand, and no evil? can he not recall what he gives?. We are not forbidden to weep for our lost ones, for our Saviour himself wept at the grave of Lazarus; but we are forbidden to sorrow as those who have no hope. And you may depend on it, my dear girls, that whenever you find sorrow and trouble crush a person to the earth, so that no sympathy is acceptabloi you may feel sure that the love of God dwells not there. All who love him bow beneath his chastening rod; and although it may not be possible in the first burst of anguish to say, 'Hhy will, not mine. Oh God, be done;" yet, where there is peifsot trust in God's promise, that he does not willingly afflict his children, you will find meek submission to hia will, instead of the rebellious murmuring which too often follows the death of some loved one. No, take your trouble as my cousin Elleii did, to God, and believe in his heautlfUl promise, « that yoa shall be comforted." Now, my dear girls, I trust you see the beautlM efftiot of the verse chosen this afternoon. BUen had remembered her God in the days of her youth, before the evil days came upon her; it was not when trouble and trial came thick upon her that she had to seek him, consequently, as her ytwK increased she found pleasure in him whom she had sought in her young days. Yes, she had remembered her,Creator in the midst ^f all the pleasures of youth, and she is now a living moQumenl of the truth << That he has not forgotten bev age," ire been ^ves up them child Offering ies the lecked langed say, SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. ** Suffer little ehildrtn to come unto me aid forbid them not for qfauch is the kingdom qf heaven. — St. Mat. ziz. 14. Vt This beautiful rerse is, as I am sure you know, repeated by all the evangelists. What a source of delight it must have been to the mothers when rebuked by the disciples, to hear such blessed acd comforting words from the Saviour? Does it not then beL<. • fvery parent to bring their little ones to Chrint? Whr^ ^ esist such a beautiful invitation— " Suffer the little chilun^n to come and forbid them notT" Now, there is not one of you here in this class, I am sure, who has not at some time or another witnessed the rite of baptism performed by our clergyman, but did you ever con-" sider its institution? Probably you have just looked upon it as a pretty sight to stse a little infant held at the font to receive its name, or what is more probable, have laughed to hear its cries as the cold water was sprinkled on its tiny face. Now, if you will look into the sixteenth verse of the sixteenth chapter of St. Mark, you will find that our blessed Saviour there declares, << That none can enter into the kingdom of heaven, except he be bom again of water," and also, " that by his own baptism he did sanctify the element of water to the mystical washing away of sin." << €rO ye therefore and teach all nations, baptizing thorn in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and so I am with you always, even unto the end of the world," was the command given, and promise made to his disciples, just before his ascension. .^ Our church urges on all, the duty of bringing their children to be baptized as soon i^ter their birth as possible, and it always appears to me a very sad negleot when I see whole 150 SCRIPTURAL ILLVSTBATIOKS. families growing up. whose parents have never yet thought it worth their while to bring their little ones to Christ, by hav- ing them received into his church as members of the same mystical body. I wish now to re' 3 ft scene I was eye-witness to, in which a dear little babe was baptized just before he was called upon to receive that crown of glory which fadeth not away. This little babe had been seriously ill for several days and I was one night keeping watch with the yonng mother, when at midnight the kind physician intimated to me t>>e necessity of having the rite of baptism administered to the little creature on whom it was plain to see death had set its marble seal. But who could undertake to tell the weeping mother that all hope was over, and that she muss resign her beautiful babe to the cold embrace of doath ? She alone appeared unconscious of danger. How- ever as there was no one there but myself to perform this pain- ful task, I told her as gently as I could, that as all infantine diseases were more or less uncertain in their results, her hus- band wished to have the babe baptised, and that the clergy- man only awaited her orders. I took the little creature from the cradle and placing him on my lap waited till he should be gammoned up stairs. A few minutes only elapsed ere he came, and without one word of comfort to the stricken mother, com* menced the service. I fancy he saw the necessity of haste, for surely there was no mistaking the grey hue which had gradu- ally, for tLa last few minutes, been overshadowing the infant's face. At many baptisms have 1 been an interested witness. I have held at the font the long desired heir of a noble house, as well as him whose inheritance was nought but poverty and sorrow. It is always to me a beautiful sight to see the little innocents of whom our Saviour declares 'm a person who was lying by the road side. At first Rose felt inclined to go on, for she had heard of cases, where men disguised as females, excited the sympathy ot the passer by, by their groans, only to rob and perhaps ir.urder them. However, Rose's heart was too tender to sufibr her to pass without flrit ascertaining whether any one really needed her Msittaaoey and stooping down, saw to her surprise, that a 156 BCRIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. young woman, with an infant in her arms, laid there almost unable to move. Rose lifted her up, and with a great deal of difficulty succeeded in assisting her to walk across the field which divided the road fh)m her mother's cottage. Her mother, who was a poor, sickly, weak-minded woman, worn down by trouble and poverty, was shocked when she saw the addition Rose had brought to the cottage; and I am sorry to add, that instead of assisting her in her good work, she com- menced blaming her for not having sent the woman to the Union House for relief. Rose made no answer until she had got the unfortunate stranger comfortably settled in her little bed. She then, in her own sweet way, expostulated with her mother, and reminded her of our blessed Saviour's ii\junotiony "that we should have pity on the poor." She talked also about the parable of the good Samaritan, till her mother could no longer refuse the charity for which her daughter pleaded so gently, and she consented to prepare some nourishment for the invalid, while Rose undressed tho unfortunate baby and fed it with some warm milk. As soon as she had accomplished this task and laid the baby down in a sweet sleep, she requested permission of her mother to be allowed to fetch the doctor, as it seemed impossible to arouse the stranger from the stupor into which she had fallen. Her mother was extremely unwil- ling to allow her to go into the town alone at that hour, lat Rose declared <' that she had no fear« she trusted in God to protect her from danger," and started on her errand of mercy. She arrived at the houseof my brother-in-law and fortunately found him just come in, so bidding hef step into his gig he drove her quickly home. It was flrom him that I heard the account of this aflkdr, when he called the next morning, asking me to accompany him to the cottage, and I thus became an eye-witness of the scene which I wish to make use of in order to Hluftrate the verse under our consideration. The unfortunalte young person had died early in the morning, without having suificiently recov- ered her powers of speech as to enable her to tell who she was, or where she oame from. A coroner's inquest was held on the bcJ!y, which was that of a very young and delicate flsmale, who bad ovidAiitly never been oaed to tread in the lower ranki of SCRIFTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 167 life. The verdict returned was^ << That she had died (torn ex* haustion, in oonsequenoe of exposure to the inclemency of the weather,." A very careful investigation was instituted by the authoritiea, and advertisements inserted in all the local papers, but nothing was elicited at the time which could throw any light on this strange aflfair, therefore the body was committed to the grave, and there the matter rested. After the fiineral, a consultation was held as to what was to be done with the baby, a sweet little fellow, apparently about six weeks old. Rose's mother strongly urged its being sent to the Union house, but her daughter as resolutely opposed it, declaring, «that she had earned her right to it by saving its life, and nothing should compel her to part with it. She would be a mother to it until its lawful guardians could be found, she felt so sure that the ladies would never let her want the drop of milk, and she trusted to Grod for the rest." It was really beautiful to witness the trusting faith of this young girl, how she put to shame those who prided themselves on the charity given out of their abundance. But here Rose stood alone, with nothing but her faith in God's promise, « that he is blessed who provides for the poor and needy." Her earnings were scarcely suiBm upholding Rose in her loving care of the little stranger, and I am sorry to say, that as the excitement of the affair died away, her patrons grew luke-warm in their sympathy. But Rose never wavered in her self-imposed task, and why was this? She sought no earthly mede of praise; and her purely disinterested charity we may all feel sure was registered on high. Her life was one continued scene ot self-denial, a murmur never escaped her lips, as the wants of her little nursling grew more pressing; but she managed him so well that he required less nursing than any babe I ever saw. Many a mother would do well to take a lesson from Rose, and their little ones would be less dependant on their nurses, whose pernicious indulgence often does more to form the bad habits of youth, than people are disposed to allow. Rose, not knovHng whether the baby had been baptized, was anxious to have the ceremony performed, and accordingly my sister and brother-in-law stood sponsors for him, and he received the name of Charles, Rose remarking, « that when- ever his father should claim him, it would be easy for him to resnme his name, supposing that he had already received one." So little Charley grew, and was a fine lovely boy of three yean ere his history came to light, which it did in the following manner: An advertisement appeared in one of the city papers, asking informatiiMi of a young person, who with an infant of five weeks old, had left her home on such a day, now about three years ago, and was supposed to have been murdered. Any 0116 giving intelligence leading to their discovery, either aUve BCRIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 159 or dead, would be very handiomely rewarded. My brotherwin- law brought over the paper to me, and showing the advertise- ment, requested me to go over and spealc to Rose about it, for it was very evident that the dead mother of her little protege was the person advertised for. I was delighted at the chance of this long-lasting mystery being cleared up, and went imme- diately to speak to Rose about it. The idea of parting 1>om the littte boy was a dreadful source of sorrow to poor Rose, but she was with her usual good sense glad to think that then was a chance of putting a stop to all the ill-natured surmises, which his poor mother's mysterious death had given rise to. My brother answered the advertisement l^ requesting a«i <)r- sonal interview with the advertiser, and in consequence, a gentleman arrived by mail the next evening, when the follow- ing facts were elicited: It appeared that this gentleman was a captain of a vessel, and had married a young girl very much against her and his parents wishes. Her father, a stem and passionate man, dis- carded her, and she was anything but kindly received by her husband's family, whose sisters, jealous of her youth and beauty, took no pains to hide their dislike. This young crea- ture had very delicate health, and therefore was totally unfit to cope with any trial or unkindness. As long as her husband was with her she was cheerftil and happy, but he was making arrangements for a voyage which he feared would detain him two if not three years, and it was impossible to tak ">iich a delicate creature to share the hardships which hb uui His hardy crew must invariably encounter. He, however, very injudiciously placed her with his family, which, knowing their dislike to her, he was very wrong to do, but he acted for what he thought best, exacting a promise that she should receive every kindness. He sailed a week aftor the birth of his son, who, curiously enough, was baptized aifd called after himself, Charles Manvers. What unkindness was resorted to which drove the wretched girl fix>m home will ever remain a mystery, till the accuser and the accused stand face to face before the bar of God. Captain Manvers was dreadAilly overcome when he heard the particulars of his young wife's destitute condition, who had left home without a sixpence; his family informing 160 SCBIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. him that they supposed she had gone to her father. Bnt that, of course, was a false statement, they could not fail of having seen the advertisements which we had inserted in all the papers, but I suppose that their conscience accusing them of being her murderer, they thought it better to keep dark^ rather than take any steps towards recovering the baby; probably, also, they feared the revelations which the young mother might have made. I cannot find words or time to tell yon of all Captain Man- ▼er's gratitude to Rose for her generous care of his dying wife and darling boy, whose likeness to himself fully proved his parentage. How to reward Rose sufficiently was, in his esti- mation, impossible, therefore, you will not be surprised to hear, that feeling sure such a girl would adorn any sphere, he married her, and raised the humble cottage girl to be the wlfis €i a wealthy captain. Rose bore her prosperity as meekly as she had done her poverty. She was sensible of her deficiea- ciM, and knew that something more was wanting to make her a gentlewoman than fine clothes. She therefore took great pains to cultivate her mind, so as to render her fit for her sta- tion. Whatever she learned, so far from rendering her proud and vain, convinced her how much more she had to learn. She never put on any of those ridiculous airs, which people are so apt to assume who are suddenly raised from an obscure situation. Religion taught her, '^ that it is God alone who, by his providence pulleth down ono and setteth up another; and that it is he who lifteth the poor out of the dust, and the needy from the mire; and to him she gave all the glory." She never li^rgotfrom whence she had been rais^; and it mad3 her humble, not proud. Neither did she becon^e extravagant or ■how a fondness for finery. She dressed agreeably to her sta^ tion as a girl, :' id so she did now as a wife, she never exposed bcnelf to ridicule by going beyond it; she was an excellent wife, mother, and mistress, and fiilly justified Captain Maah yer's opinion of her. The little boy never lost his place in her, affections, although she had several children of her own. ^ Now, my dear girls, my chief aim' in this tale had been to set before you the law of kindness, you may never in your life- ttme be called to act in such a scene as this, but scarcely a day SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 161 passes over that we cannot do Bomething or other that will add to the comfort or happiness of another. Never heed how small yonr opportunities, do not waste them; be encouraged by those beautiful texts of scripture which say, <'To do good ari c'stribute, forget not, for with such sacrifice God is well pleased." " Be merciful according to thy power." Have pity on the poor, for by so doing you lend to the Lord." Remember, Rose had no hope of ever being rewarded when she took to her home the perishing mother and infant, save by her own conscience. She had not studied the beautiful pre- cepts contained in her bible for nothing, she was not a mere nominal Christian, but acted as if she felt God's eye was upon her. She was blamed by her mother, sneered at by many, still she persevered in her good work. Her most exaggerated hopes of reward, had she possessed any, would have fallen far short of what in reality did take place. But she sought no earthly mede of praise, guided by her faith in God's promise, << That he is blessed who provides for the sick and needy." She went steadily on in the path of duty. Setting sneers and reproaches at defiance, she confidently "cast her bread upon the waters," and you see how fully she reaped the fulfilment of the promise, " that it should be returned to her after many days." tn to life- day SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. " The poor is haied even of his onen neighbor} hut the rich hath many /Wends."— Pro V. ov SoL., xiv., 20. This verse, my dear girls, wbicli is taken from the fourteenth chapter of the proverbs of Solomon, shows us how much value the wprld sets upon the possession of riches— the fading riches of this world. What can be so ridiculous as the homage which is paid to wealth ? for it causes the character of the possessor of it to be quite overlooked by those who are eager for his notice. How will people bow and cnnge to its power, as though it included all that was needful to insure happiness. But we will now pause for one minute and see what our blessed Saviour himself declares, and I refer you to the 19th chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, where you will read that a young man puts this question to him: « Master, what good things shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" Our Saviour answers him by saying, « That he must keep all the command- ments," to which the young man replies, <' That he had done so from his youth up," adding, " What lack I yet?" Our Sa- viour tells him, << To sell all he has and give to the poor, so should he have treasure in heaven." Then we read that this young man went away sorrowful, and why ? Because he had great possessions. To part from his wealth was a trial he could not bring his mind to, it was too great a sacrifice to be required of him, and our Saviour exclaims, '< Verily, I say unto you, that a rich man shall hardly enter the kingdom of heaven." Now you must not fall into the error of supposing that our Saviour meant, that because a man was rich it was hard for him to enter heaven ; it was not th6 actual possession of riches, but the undue value which is set upon them. It rendered this young man, you find, indifftBrent to the unsearch- ■I 164 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. able riches of Christ. This was tiie sin ; the treasure in heaven which our Saviour promised was secondary to his earthly pos- sessions, for you read he went away sorrowing. There is no doubt that riches debase the m^rds of many, rendering them hard-hearted and selfish ; they have many friends, as cur text declares, but it is the friendslup o^ the world. David says, "A little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches of the richest." Again he says, << That a man heapetb up riches andknoweth not who shall gather them; consequently he walketh in a vain show." Again, <• That they trust in their wealth, and boast themselvjs of the multitude of their riches." How numerous are the texts of Scripture which I could bring to prove the truth of this, and I do wish that you would read them over before you proceed to read the following tale illustrating the one chosen for our present consideration. Any subject leading you to search the Scriptun^s, provided you ask the assistance and guidance of God's Hcly Spirit, must result in your benefit. How awful is the denunciation pro- nounced by our Saviour, in the 24th verse of the 6th chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, ** Woe unto you that are rich! for ye have received your consolation;" and surely you have all read the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, but you may pe. tps read it with more interest if I explain it to you. The rich man, we are told, <' was clothed in purple" — this color in those times was the dress of the rich and high bom only — and <' that he fared sumptuously every day." Now see the contrast be- tween him and Lazarus: << He was a beggar full of sores." It was a common custom in Jerusalem and throughout the East to lay a cripple or leper at the door of some wealthy mar, or to place him in a public thoroughfare, stretched on his mat, or wooden litter, and this history tells us " that he laid ai the rich man's gate, and desired to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table." Now, among the ancients napkins were not used for wiping the hands, but they were dipped in dishes of water, and wiped with the soft part of the bread, which was afterwards thrown to the dogs — and this bread poor Lazaru^ craved; but we are not led to believe by this parable that it was even granted him, for we are told that « he died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bo- SGRIPTITRAL ILLUSTBATIONS. 165 srm." Now this phrase probably bears allusion to the custom ci Jewish feasts of several guests lying on one couch, the head of one being placed near the bosom of another. It signifies a high state of felicity, for we are told in the 13th chapter of St. John's gospel, that the disciple whom Jesus loved leaned on his heart at supper. But what is the fate of the rich man? « He lifts up his eyes in hell," and begs that mercy of Lazarus which he had denied him on earth. What answer does he re- ceive ^ ''That he in his life-time had received good things, and Lazarus evil things;" the same contrast in their fates still existed, only reversed: ''he was tormented, Lazarus com- forted." Had he used the talent committed to his care in re- lieving the needy, feeding the hungry, he might be with La- zarus enjoying the joys of heaven; but he had shut his ear to the voice of mercy, and his riches had sunk him into the depths of hell. Does this parable not prove to you how vain is the poBftession of wealth if it hardens the heart. What val- ue does it possess only as it enables us to administer to the necessities of others. As the rich use the power given them, so will they have to answer for it. But I will now proceed to relate an incid jnt which came under miiie own immediate ob- servation, and I think it will amuse and instruct you as much as it did me at the tima it hi^ppeaed. Very near my house there lived in a small cottage a middle- aged single lady. She was exceedingly plain in her person, and very eccentric in manner ; but she was kind-hearted, gentle and benevolent, with a heart overflowing with gener- osity and good will to all. It was a source of wonder to me how ahe managed to live and keep up so respectable an ap- pearance upon her very limited income, which did not quite count forty pounds per annum. She was always happy and cheerful, the merriest of old maids, over willing to fly to the aid ot the sick and destitute, to whose wants she ministered with unsparing hand what, if she had in consequence less comfort at home, for the sake of giving it to another, it only made, her more gratefUl to Grod, who had enabled her to carry relief to anyone more needy than herself. Many a bitter win- ter's night have I known her to leave her bed, and, through torrents of rain, go on her errand of mercy to the hovel of SQme ^Ze^k^ A •"■^ il [f. "> 166 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. poor dying creature, 'whose last rjuments she would smooth hj assurances of her Saviour's love, and whose weak faith 8hi> would encourage as she pa«£od fh)m the poverty of earth to tho eternal riches of heaven; and then she would return wet aiid shivering to her own desolate hoiae, with tbr sweet smile of benevolence on her lips, and plans of future cou'fort and }i"lp in her large, loving heart. Miss Thorne was of course of too Httle consequence to Vd noticed by the high and rich fiamilies whc/ resided iu the town. Hovr could a poor obRcure old maid, who lived in a srr^all cot- tage m&anly farnisb'x?, and keeping no servant, expect to ha even thought of. W betber »bo felt ihis or not she gave no sign ; she quietly pursued bor oavu path, relieving the poor, visiting the sick, and advising lb .: erring. Forgetful of self, she held on the even tenor of bei way, until an event occurred which worked a strange metamorphosis in her hitherto friendless posi- tion. I was taking tea with her one evening when the postman brought her a letter from a lawyer in the city of N , re- questing her to meet him at his office on the following day; enclosing a five pound note for her expenses. We talked and wondeTOd what this could possibly portend, and Miss Thome laughed heartily at my suggestion that she must have fallen heir to some fabulous property, and declared '' that she had not a relation in the world that she knew of.'* However, the next morning she hired a post chaise and started on her jour- ney, which, although but a distance of nine miles, was quite an event in her hitherto uneventful life. She was absent two days, and then called to tell me the welcome tidings, that an old uncle whom she had never seen, and scarcely even recollected as having gone out to India when she was a child, had there died, and bequeathed to her, as the only surviving child of his twin sister, the munificent income of twelve thousand pounds per annum. The calm manner in which Miss Thome announced this puzzled me. Here was a step from poverty to affluence which might have overwhelmed a far stronger-minded person, but she was as cool and collected as though she was only Just drawing her quarterly allowance of nine pounds. Of cottTse 8CRIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 167 nooth hj faith flho •th to the wet aiid t mnile of and li^lp ,ce to l/e the town. snmli cot- ect to bo B no sign; ■, visiting she held ed which Hess posi- postman , re- dng day; Iked and 8 Thome ive fallen she had ever, the her jonr- ras quite 1 me the ver seen, to India )d to her, anifioent ced this ce which ■son, but [>nly just f course this news soon spread throngh the town, and the poor des- pried old maid rose twelve thousand pounds in the estimation ox Iter aristocratic neighbours. She must, as a matter of coarse, be taken into their society, and be noticed by their august body. They could afford nuw to overlook her eccen- tricities in consideration of her wealth, and it was really ak using to see with what astonishing rapidity friends and acquaintances rose up, now that Miss Thome needed neither advice or assistance. She was a remarkably clever woman, and very sensitive of the ridiculous, which, but for her Chris- tian character, would doubtless have shown itself in satirical Mttemess, for it was impossible for her to be insensible to the markeki courtesy paid her by those who, before this era, had never so much as bestowed a look upon her. She, however, made no remark, as she fully understood the truths contained in the third chapter of the Gron. Epistle of St. James, and « held her tongue in subjection." The first thing effected by Miss Thome was the purchase ot a very pretty villa about three miles out of town. She fur- nished it handsomely, and with every convenience; hired a respectable man and his wife, with their oldest daughter, to live with her, bought a beautifiil little carriage and two po- nies, and settled down quietly to enjoy the bright change in her life and prospects. She was of course besieged with visitors, whose advances she met with lady-like pbliteness, and their congratulations with kindness. , About ten days afterwards every lady who had honored her with a call received a card, left by Miss Thome's footman, on which was printed in gold figures £12^00. Everyone was at a loss to know what this could possibly portend, and many were the conjectures hazarded on the subject. At last one lady, bolder than the rest, undertook to solve the mystery by calling on Miss Thome and requesting an explanation. Miss Thome's answer was so characteristic of herself that I cannot do better than givo it in her own words: " Madam, I have now resided in this town for a period of sixteen years. During that time I have had a hard straggle with life; I have several times been prostrated by very severe 168 SOBIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. siokness, and yot no lady thought me worthy to oome under my roof. I have frequently guflTered the pangs of hunger, yet I received neither help or sympathy. In the house of God (which, thanks be to His holy name, is alike open to the poor and rich), had it not been for the free pews, which of you would have dared to have braved the opinion of the world, by opening your richly decorated ones to the poor despised old maid? How is it, then, that my inheritance has worked such a reformation? I am not conscious of any change myself— I am the same plain old maid as before, and surely if my con- duct during sixteen years' residence amongst you has been such as not to merit the notice now so freely l^estowed, I really cannot understand how a fortune so unexpecteulj ^^ftAfttcu can, in so short a time, have rendered me a fit object for your civilities. I came, therefore, to the conclusion, and I trust I ii\jure no one by it, that it was my wealth you ail paid court to, and not simply mysel£ I accordingly sent each lady a card, acknowledging their call, and here the unsought for acquaintance must end. For it is not in pandering to the rich and great that my wealth will be spent, but in teaching the ignorant, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick. In the hovels of the poor and wretched, at the bed- side of the sick and dying, Is the place I shall fill for the remainder of my existence; and I bless .Gro4 who has made mo the steward of siieh wealth, and I humbly pray that at Hi^ judgment seat I may not have to answer for one.mispent pound." Now, my dear girls, my object in this tale is to point out to you the exceeding folly of setting value on wealth just for wealth's sake. In this case you see all Miss Thor e's noble qualities were' overlooked, and herself treated wiih scorn and neglect, solely because sho was poor; no sooner did she inherit wealth than all flocked to pay court to her, or rather to it, and I am sure you can but admire the manner in which she met their advances. Few would have had the courage to have aeted as she did, for I think hardly any one would have had the wit to have thought of it She was revenged for years of negleet and scorn without injuring one pertton; she felt her independence, and acted acQprdingly, and I can assure 70;^ 8CBIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 169 that there are many families in England living now who would willingly give their testimony to the truth of this tale, a|id countless numbers who were snatched from sin and wretched- ness, and owe both their temporal and spiritual welfare to Min Thome's fortunate possession of twelve thonsand per an- nnm. She has herself long since passed away to the inheritance of the saints above, and I can only pray that the riches of Ghrist, my dear girls, may be your portion. You need no other wealth, for it is a mine which never fails. Remember Agui's prayer: '< Give me neither poverty or riches-; feed me wlih. ibod convenient for me, lest I be full and deny thee, and say, <<1^ho iatheLordt" Too all know our blessed Saviour became poor, that we might be made rich in Him. Follow, then, his footsteps, and never fiMTget " that Godliness is great riches If a man is content with what he hath; for \te brought nothing into this world, neither may we cany anything out" SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS, *^Let your light 8o shine before men ihat ihey may see your good workSj and glorify your Father iphicJi is in heaven," St. Matt., v. 16. In those words which form a portion of our divine Saviour's sermon on the Mount, He exhorts His disciples so to act, that they may encourage others to follow their example; for if I people hear great professions made, and see none of the ^Rect, they are not lilcely to admire or follow a relij^on flrom which springs no firait Our blessed Lord declares, <' Not every one that saith unto me. Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father." How many bring shame on their religious profession by the way in which they make it a cloak for sin. You read how much tlits B 170 SOBIFTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. was condemned by our Saviour in the Pharisees, when he says, ** Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharifiees, hypocrites t for ye devour widows' houses, and for a pretence make louff prayers." This sect were strict obsoryera of the law and all its outward ordinances: they paid tithe, and yet mercy and faith were quite forgotten; they mode small matters of importance, and neglected the greater requirements of religion. What does our SaT^our say of them? " Ye are like whlted sepulchres, which indeed appear, beautiful outward, but are within fiiU of dead men's bones and all uncleanness." If you will carefully read the twenty-third chapter of St. Matthew, yon will And how par- ticular these men were to do all required by their traditions, clearing out the oup and platter before meals being one: but you find our Saviour declaring that it was the outSde alone, Ibr within they vrere fiill of extortion and excess. He also addresses them as « blind (piides, which strain at a gnat and swallow a camel," thus signifying their exactness about little matters, while neglectiuK those of greater moment. The proverb itself originate'l In the custom of the Pharisees, who attempted with a fine cluth to strain out the small animalculsB when they took their wine, lest they should transgress the law which forbade the eating of any creeping thing, for you will find in the forty-first verse of the eleventh chapter of Leviticus that it is thus written : «And every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth shall be an abomination, it shall not be eaten." This all proves that these men's actions were not guided solely by the pure principle of their religion, ibr they sought the applause of men, wno can only judge of the outside actions — the inward principle is only known to God. Now, let us just ask here, what is meant by letting your light shine before men ? It is simply this: let all your actions be based on the pure precepts taught by our blessed Saviour, do nothing to dishonor His holy name. Be not afraid to show before men that the religion yon profess is the guide of your life, the main spring of all your actions. Be meek, humble, and kindly affectionate one towards another, and when men see this, they will confess that your good works spring from the love of pleasing God, and so thus seeing your light shine, thoy will also glorify your father which is i? heavmi. I have now a short tale to relate which I trust will prove to you, that a man can spend his whole life in the strict obser- vance of the ordinances of religion, that he can give largely of his means for the furtherance of religiuus objects, leave thou- sands to charitable institutions, and yet, after all, be found amongst those whom our Saviour declares will he addressed by him in these .words, "I never knew you, depart from me, ye that work iniquity." In England, in or of those lovely places for which ih%t country is remarkable, dwelt a gentleman, who, nursed in the lap of luxury from his eariie^l infancy, inherited at » very 8CBIPTUB4L ILLUSTRATIONS. 171 i he sajs, Mi for ye prayers." I outward ere quite legleoted ' Saviour th indeed id men's read the how par- aditions, one: but le alone, He also ;nat and ut little t The les, who malcules the law ^ou will leviticus ;reepeth eaten." d solely ght the Btions — us just re men? le pure ishonor hat the spring stionate confess igGod, fy your rove to i obser- •gely of e tnou- > found Iressed 9ta me, h that i in the a T«?y " early age, bv the death of his fWther. the magnifloent estate which had descended for generations in his fiimily. You who have never been in England, can form no idea of the supreme beauty of these estates. The beautiful parks with their noble trees, the streams of pure water, the hills and valleys, and rich pastured, form a scene of picturesque beautv of whlcn you can scarcely dream. There is no grandeur in English scenery, but almost every stranger is struck with the air of quiet happiness which seems spread over the whole landscape, giving you an idea of peace and rest which is seen in no other country. The Senfieman who owned the estate of which I speak was a tall, ne*looking, handsome man, his manners courteous and gen- tlemanly j but there was with all this an austerity of self- righteousness about him, which was anything but pleasing to those with whom he came in contact. In a word, he was one of those persons who looked upon every one with the Jaundiced eye of suspicion. He had resided abroad for several years, and Was the father of two sons, and three daughters, oefore he finally settled on his own estate. His wife was a very lovely woman, forming a striking contrast to himself, and was regarded by him much in the same light as he looked upon his children, viz: slaves to do his will. Such strict propriety of conduct was insisted upon, that the girls were mere walking automatons, hardly speaking above a whisper; as to laughing or playing, it was considered too vulgar and unladylike to.bi indulged In. The idea of eoing beyond the prescribed routine of a rranlar measured walk on the broad gravel paths of their magnificent garden, never for a minute occurred to them; to run under the trees in the park, and seat themselves beneath their grateful shade, whilst they read or woiked. was a thins not to be thought of: even to stop on the rustic bridge w!.tcfi spanned the Jovely stream, dividing the gs^on from tne wuk, to feed the pet swans, would have been considered a great dePd- lection of dignity. Every act was prescribed 1^ rule, and Mr. De Yere fiattered himself in his pompous seldshness, that aH his belongings were patterns of rigid proprieties. ' Mr. De Yere gave liberally to all cnarities and religiO'OB institutions, for it flattered his vanil^ to see a subscription V'¥^. headed by his donation of ten, twenfy, or fifty pounds, at iho case might be, and ascribed to his generous benevolence. His name figured in all lists for missionaries, bible societies, hospi- tal ftinds, or. any other charity in which he saw himself described as the most liberal of patrons; but his ear was doe^ to the voice of mercy did it come in the shape of some poor widow, or orphaned child, who asked a s'Jialt portion of his bounty; no transgression was overlooked, no erring one encouraged '^to go and sin no more." Did be not iittend church three times every Sabbath, have fkmily prayers, etc. t Oould it be expected that he shoud comcl in contact with sin •ad nncleaimess, oould he touch pitu^bl in contact with these young ladies, wsd I remember one afternoon receiving a very severe lecture flron^ Madame Drucourt their governess, for dating to ask the Mtases Pe Vere to join me and my sisters in a game of hido-and-go- seek. She ffaeed with great contempt on my not very tidy dress, whicn having in my play come in contact wiui the ■hrubs, had many unsightly rented very visible, in spite of my efforts to disguise them, and mv hair, which hung in long, natural cmrls, was certainly guiltless of any degree of order; lay haf, which In my eager desire to find the oldsct of my sear6hf had fallen off, and now hung down behind, Ikept ia. its plaee solely bv the ribbon attached to it. Madame was hoirl- fled, and connasting the young ladies' spotless dresses, and elewit French hats with my appearance, proudly demaiided. ^' Mow I could presume to suppose that they would be allowea to make such figures of themselves?" The poor girls' pale faces oerteinly was a soffi^ent guarantee that a healthy game of romps had never been included in their catalogue of proprie- ties, and although I was not in the least ashamed of my play, X nvst 6wn to feeling a little, when the contrast of my apoear- anoe was made so palpably visible to mine eyes by Maaame prueovrt Tetia the shame of this I could not help feeling eertain. that it would have been Ion ere our dear mother ^ouid nave dressed us up lik^ ^Ils, aud senti^s to make nonir Uig calls nrltb our goyerness* It wm some weeks after Ihlp BCRTPTURAL ILLITSTRATIONS* 178 Tisit that I met Mr. De Yere comloff up the garden with » pal* flMe and bewildered manner, he a^reined me with his nsaal overwhelming politeneM bv aaJcingifmy fttther was at homet Adding, "that he had called at hit ofBce but oould not see him." I knew mv (kther was Jnit then In the orchard with ths gardner. iiuperlntendlnff the planting of some trees, and 1 offered to go and call him, requesting him to walk into my fkther'8 study whilst I did so. With all his pompous polite- ness which he never lost sight of, I could see thai something had gone wrons with him, and concluded in my usual hasty manner of deciding, that some of his human machines had most likely got out of order, so he required legal advice. I was only too glM to escape flrom his stem sense of propriety, which led him to overwhelm even a child with it, and quickly sent my fftther to his rescue. What transpired between them I did not hear for some time, but it appeared that his two sons had been leading a very reckless life of extravagance and folly at college, and in conse- 8uen<;e, had been both expelled. The disgrace to a man of Mr. >e Vere's strict propriety was dreadftil. and in his anger h^ swore, " that be would never receive nis sons home again.'' In vain was he advised, that however culpable their conduct, that that was not tuu way to reform them, but only likely to drive them to further acts of desperation. It was not the sin In the eyes of Qod which was the sting to this proud father, but the disgrace in the eyes of men. He who haa lUways beeli noted for such strict Justice, such fiilr dealing, to have dlrfy, shabby bills sent him from the Jew money lenders, who, know- ing his wealth and pride, gladly lent on such jure securllj to the reckless youths, wno, freed fh>m the severity of ueir father's eye, only too willingly borrowed and spent m idle and boisterous dissipation large sums of money which they obtained BO readily, and it was not till an ord«r ejqpelling them ftom college, reached them, that they awoke to the iear of their father's just anger. Nothing could exceed the fearfhl wrath of Mr. De Yere, ai bill after bill was sent, demanding payment. He would llsteii to no reasoning; could he then have been mftde to loQlt, lib own error in the face what amount of suffering might he not have escaped? But no, he had bowed to the world, the opln? ions f>f men had always swayed him, he had never sought mfoey fkom God, why then should he show Itt His soQs|ra4 disgnujed his name, and involved themselves in debt from Which no hand but his could free them. What right hAd ^ey to ask or expect pardon t What was their bitter jMniitenoe to him, could It wipe away the stain on their name? No, they had wilftiUy brought shame on it, and now they must abide the punishment. In vain did Mrs. De Yere try to persuade him to reverse the dread decree which exiled her, sons from home. The fond.mother's courage rose as she pleaded for her ' 174 SCSIPTUBAL ILLUSTfiATIONS. boys, for she felt how much of their error was to be attriouled to their father's false and hollow system of education, it had not fitted them to be launched into all the gaieties of college nfe. They had been, His tme, liberally provided with pocket money, but it was because it must not be said, that the young l)e Veres were niggardly supplied; and they were generous on the same principle, and not for the good they might be enabled to do with it. Religion at home had never been pre- sented in its own pure, attractive form, consequently, at school it was neglected just in proportion to the opportunites of eluding the vigilance of the teachers. Is it to be wondered at. that these young men fell into temptation, the real sin of wnich had never b^n implanted in their hearts as a path to shun? Mr. De Tore in the ^nidst of his anger, paid without a single deduction his sons' liabilities, which amounted to three thou- sand pounds, but he stt^mly warned the creditors that it would be the last time. Then, with a heart in which pride and anger held undisputed sway, he sat down and wi'ote his sons' dis- missal firom his roof, as coolly as if he were asking them to dinner. He named a sum ior which they might draw upon him annually, but added, that if it were over drawn at any time, the whole would be discontinued. ^ Thus, the sons were exiled firom their home, and the father was seen as nsual in the house of God, tne most devout listener there, the most constant and attentive attendant on all its sacred ordinances; but did his conscience never smite him M he prayed '* forgive ua onr trespasses as we forgive those who treepass i^inst ust" Tlie youQg men, on receiving their father's letter, announc- ing their esole, had written to their mother, saying, ''that they inidnded going to sea and endeavoring to carve out for themselves such a name as might perhaps be the means of obliterating all remembrance of their youthflil folly." They had not emd f^m a real love of sin, but for lack of that inherent principle being Ingrafted on their minds, which would have kept them from mlllng; but thid the father could iiot see, hence nis litem, unrelenting denouncing of his sons. Nothing was heard of these young men for nearly three years, ana then news reached the parents that they had both perished by shipwreck. What Mr. De Yere felt he made no liigA of; he still continued the same stem administratof of jus> tioe, the same liberal subscriber to all religious insitutions, the Mune arrogant stickler for propric^^. The heart-broken mother silently and uneomplaininffly curooped away, her fond be^rt had clung through atl the disgrace to her erring boySi for lis it not a well known fact, that Tears cannot change— nor worthlesaness remove— Nor guilt impair, a mother's holy love ; It twines around ttie most ungrateful Neurt, Tlio' thankless aU, H will not tbenoe dqprt. . . SCRIPTUBAL ILLUSTBATIONS. 175 Mrs. De Yere's silent suffering was painful to witness, there was no simpathy with her grief and aU felt that death was a mdrcy, bringing her the pe«u;e she knew not on earth. Few knew till she was laid in h€>r grave her gentle charities, of the kind and loving sympathy which had sought to lead the erring back to the path of virtue; . no one feared to go to her, although the;i^ shrank terrifled^ from her pompous husband: ^ era wa&a religion to be felt, his to be seen; she condemncMi the sin, he the sinner; she spoke kind and gentle words to the penitent, be crushed them with the weight of his wrath. He stood al<^, for who would dare to accuse him of any wrong? Could hjb not pray, <' Lord I thank thee that I am notas.other men are, extortioners, unjust adulterers; I fast twice in the week and give tithes of all that I possess?" But who can teU what feelings wrung his heart v^th anguish as throngii the long, dark, wintry nights he wrestled with his great sorrow His pride was wounded in the ,mo8t sensible point as he remembered that he had now no son to inherit hi^ beautiful domain. His very name must sink into oblivioa, for the eldest son of his sister would inherit what now t^peared to him invested with threefold value, and what was still more repugnant to him, he was the son of a gentleman whom he hated with a bitter hatred, for he was one who had made him feel his superiority. A mMi of no particular standing iosooi-^ ety, with not a tithe of his wealth making him feel that his superior was there, was not to be borne, and now his son was the sole heir to the inheritance of hiu lost children. He had no power to will it for it was strictly entailed on the male h^irs; and he felt all the punishment of his own unreleiiting pride and anger. Had he not exiled his sons from homet Had he not coolly consigned them to death ? Could anything have power to erase this cruel knowledge? He tried to aeadea <' the still small voice," but it loudly asserted its power. What were the few thousand pounds spent by hiii sons, to a manof his wealth? He recollected, when a lad at college, having fallen into a similar error; his dear father not only paid his debts, but had affectionately pointed out his error: no word of harshness in his reproof, and in order to prevent nis again falling into temptatfon, he had generously increased his allow- ance. Why then had he acted so differently ? He punished his sons, not for the actual sin, but merely because his pride was wounded, his strict ideas of propriety outraged; in a word, the world would know that his sons had dared to act as other mea's sons, as the common herd. This so hardened his heart that he hushed the soft pleadings of nature, and turned a deaf ear to the gentle voice of the meek and loving mother. But now conscience asserted its power, niled him with an iron rod, and the strong man was as a willow bending beneath the blast The satisfaction of seeing his sons carried with all the pomp of pride to the family vault, and their names inscriped on the ite SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. m storied nm vrns 0ven denied bim, for the wfld wftree had sung their requiem as thej rank to riee no more. No one couid tell the ang|iii8h this man endured^ he bore it alone: pride raising a barrier between him and the world he wondiipped, no one dared to whisper a word of comfort or peace> for thej felt that their sympatbT would be spumeol He Bongfat a b«lm for his misery by willing large sums to the dif- fOTent charitable institutions, thus, making mi it were terms with the conscience which maddened him. It might gratify him to know that after his death bis name would stimd forth in these charities as a liberal donor, but would it have poorer to deaden the gnawing worm of self condemnation, or quench the fire which was consuming him? *' How had his light shone b^ore men Y' Had it turned one from the error of his way ? Had it soothed the bed of eiduess T Had it whispered of mercy to the erring? No, his pompous pride had driven all from him. His anger had crushed the penitent. He had shown mercy to no man, and he had no right to expect that which he had always denied to others. He was indeed reaping fruit of the seed he had sown. Th* stem, proud man, wrestled long with the mighty power but it did not humble him, and he sunk into his grave Without one to mourn his loss, and his beantifiil estate passed into the hands of his nephew, who, being brought up by one who feared and honored God, so uses his wealth and power, that in tiie happiness he diffuses around him, he so lets his light shine before men, that they acknowledge the goodnest of God and glorify and praise his holy name. SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. << Blessed are the merciful^ for they shtM obtain mercjf.^- 8t. Matt., v., t. These beautiml words form, as yon have just been reading, a portion of the sermon preached by our blessed Saviour when he went up with his disciples into a mountain to pray, and is contained in thd fifth ch.ipter of St. Matthew's Gospel, the first nine verses of which are called the Beatitudes, « word sig- nifying extreme joy or happiness, consummate bliss, as It emi- veys a decliiration of the blessedness belonging to certain virtues promised by our Saviour. In the verse we are abmt to eondder, tre are told «< that the mercifUl are Uessed, and SCBIPTUBAL IliLUSTBATIONS* 177 ji.^ ' shall obtain mercy." In another portion of Scripture we are exhorted « to be merciful according to our power, for so shall we gather to ourselves a good reward in the day of necessity." Have we any rieht to expect that mercy from C^^d which we refuse to our fellow-creatures? and yet when we pray it is generally in these words, <^ God be merciful to me a sinner." We are told "that God's merc^ is everlasting; that He is gra- cious and merciful, long suflfonng and of great goodness; who- soever putteth his heart in Him, mercy embraoeth him on every 814®;" ft^d again, << His merc^ is great toward them that fear . Him, for like as a father pitieth his own children, even so is the Lord merciAil unto them that fear Him." St. Paul tells us <' That €rod is rich in mercy," and exhorts us all to put on bowels of mercy, kindness, meekness, long sufllering," etc St. Peter also speaks of our *• lively horn by the resurrection of Jeaus Christ, which is according to his abundant mercy:" and again, Solomon declares, " that he that despiseth his neighbor sinaeth, but he that hath mercy on the poor, happy is he;" also, " He that honoureth God hath mercy on the poor;" and Stgain, the prophet Micah declares, "That Grod retaineth not his anger rorever, beeause he delighteth in mercy." David implores God to be merciful unto him, because he felt that He was plenteous in mercy to all that call on Him. Many texts which declare the merc^ of God could we iind, had we time to consider them, but I think I have given you a sufficient num- ber now to prove this beautiful attribute of our divine Re- deemer. I will therefore proceied to illustrate this by a scene in my dear father's life, and may it inspire you all' to trv to earn the bright reward promised to the merciiuli viz: 'That they shall obtain mercy." A great many years have elapsed since these even is took {>lace which I am now about to relate, but they are as indel- ibly impressed upon my mind as though they only happened yesterday. A widow lady who resided in a most beautiful place about five miles from my father's house, had been left by her husband dependant upon her only son, who was about twenty-two years of age at the time of his father's death. He was travelling on the continent when the news reached him, and he hastened bome to take possession of his inheritance. He had been much pampered and indulged by his fother, therefon this Hlone should have been a sufficient reason for Mr. Ste./ard's maldng a separate provision for him, as his indulg-ences had fettered the seeds of selfishness, which were not likely to add much to his widowed mother's comfort. My father had been for years the legal adviser of Mr. Steward, but when called npon to make ms will steadily revised to be made instrumental to what he always looked upon as a deep wrong. A will of this kind my dear father was never known ta make, for hecon- aideied it both uajust and cruel. " You never can tell," was 178 8CRIPTUEAL ILLUSTRATIONS. It I: his argument, '' bow your children are to turn out, and surely the wife who has borne with you the cares and burdens of life, ought not to be left depending on the caprices of h^r ehildren." Mr. Steward was very unwilliog to call in another lawyer, but as my father resolutely refused to- vot, he was obliged, and Mrs. Steward and her two daughters were left entirely depend- ing on her son, to whom all was left, with an injunction, cer- tainly, to provide for his mother and sisters. My father iY ight this A most unjust will, as the idle habits of young Steward; added to his late extravagant style of living on the con'nent, were not likely to be conducive to the interests of elthuF mother or sisters. He loved them as well as any one so fend of self could love, and in the first burst of grief for his fabh:;*«i death was willing to promise anything. My father, who still continued the legal adviser of the family, eamestiy exhorted Mi's. Steward to have some settlement made on which she could depend, now that the feelings of her son were softened by his father's unlooked-for generosity. But unfortu- nately Mrs.' Steward felt afraid that it would look like distrust of her own son, and refused to follow my father'^ advice, who, knowing young Steward's selfish character, felt sure that she would l^foro long bitterly repent her not having done so. For the next three months young Steward remained "t home with his mother, and the sisters continued their studies as usuaJ. But at the end of that time hebegan to find home and its quiet duties extremely irksome to hfan. Having been brought up to no profession, time grew weaiy on his hand ^ and he once more started for the continent. We were upon very intimate tt>nnfl with this family. The Misses Stewani would very frequently stay a week with us and we with them. It was not long after Mr. Steward's death be- fore \ great change was observable In the house, which had always been kept up in a style amounting to magnificence; and it was justified by the extent of Mr. Stewards income. We often used to hear rumors of the probability of Mrs. Stew- ard being brought to poverty by ^he extravagance of her son ; but we in our luxurious home were too young to realize such an idea as connected with their name. About eighteen months after Mr. Steward's death, his widow received a fetter from a gentleman, informing her that her son had been visiting for .ome time in his family, and having a^ed the hand of his eldest daughter in marriage, he requestf i to hear from her what prospects awaited his child as her son's wife. Mrs. Steward immediately answered by informing him of the terms of her late husband's will. Mr. Spenser very prudently refused his consent to the marriage unless youQg Steward would make a separate provision for his mother and slstera, so as to leave no chance of interference with his daugh- ter's claims. Unfortunately the young couple were neither of them In- SCRIPTTniAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 179 The clined to listen to such dull reasoning, and very imprudent/ eloped, and were made man and wife ere Mr. Spenser coald come to any settlement with the parties most interested. Mr. Steward brought his bride to the house where his mother and sisters still resided, and a scene of sad regrets and unavailing murmurings was the result. The b^ide was a very stylish, boEtutiful girl, but possessing an indomitable spirit of pride and seif-wili, which had been fostered by luxurious indulgence, and she had no idea of sharing her married home with the mo- ther and sistcirs of her husband. A separate residence was Insisted upon, and poor Mrs. Steward now found out how foolishly she had actnd in neglecting the advice of mv father, who had so stronelv urged her to take advantage of her son's evident desire at his father's death to promote her comfort. He knew young Steward's character tc* be too selfish and exactina to be ponna by a mere promise, and his conduct ever since had prov^ the Justice of his suspicions. Large sums ibad been spent for which he refused to account, and bills had accumu- lated with frightful rapidity, for the tradesmen had been only too willing to grant unlimited credit. Claims agidnst the estate had never been pressed, because the propert v was known to be immense; but now, when disputing was high, people be- gan to uige their claims, which young Steward showed no in- timation to settle, and recourse was again had to my father for his advice and assistance. Now it was that his counsel about the will was folly proved, for it was next to impossible to induce Mr. Steward so to re- trench his expenses as to enable him to allow his mother an annual income adequat s>at their own, gone abroad soon after the ^1 180 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. I"!- settlement was made, and the beautiful homestead was left in the care of ft steward, instead of being, as it ought justly to have been, the shelter of Mrs. Steward's declining years. It was somewhere about three vears after the death of Laura Steward that my father received a letter i^m Mr. Steward, asking him to effect a mortgage on the homestead, adding tiiat unless he could raise eleven thousand pounds nothing but rulii and disgrace awaited him. He ended his letter bv nromising that if my father would assist him he would immecuaielv come home and settle quietly down to the task of improving hit eslute. In Mr. Steward^s promises, yoii may well believe, mj TskHxet ]ir.d no faith, but for reasons which he did not explain, but w^ I. ti were dictated b^ the kindest of motives, he advanced ^he money hiitiself, anid the beautiful place was once more put •i?ro order for the reception of its master and mistress. Two years of fashionable dissipation showed strong marks on Mw ' 'ward's handsome personal appearance: his beautiflil wife Was a mere wrecl^ and plainly evinced ner disgust at whatshd called her husimnd's senseless desire of rustication. She had always shown a marked dislike of my father, he being, as she well knew, instrumental in procuring Mrs. Stew- ard's income, and I believe she stopped at nothing which was Vikelf to injure him either in a private or public capacity. He WAS always ^ntlemanly and courteous to her, but she fdt something in his manner as a tacit reproach to her heart- lessness, when she insisted upon the mother and daughters leaving the luxurious home of their childhood's years. She had, during h6r residence abroad, become the mother of a boy and rfrl — sweet, lovely darlings they were — but she showed no af- fection for them, and left them entirely to the care of their nurse. She was the most heartless woman I ever met with. 1 disliked her extremely, because I always felt that she was indirectly the cause of poor Laura's illness and death, she being a special favorite of mine. The mortgage having relieved Mr. Steward from his most pressing necessities, he soon cummenced again to laundbi out into a siyle of extravagance altogether inconi ^tent with the reduced state of their income. The property was still such as would allow them every comfort, but it did not warrant ainr onneoessary expenditure. Mr. and Mrs. Steward's long resi- dence in Palis had engendered a passion for gambling which no persuasion could convince of its folly, and large sums were nightly Bquanderd| by this unpiinciptod oouple. At last everytning becanp involved, debts of honor were loudly and boldly insisted upon, everything that money could be raised upon had disappeared, and now listen to the droad climax. My father was sent for in great haste one morning, :\nd after a grotracted absence returned with the awful tidings Ihat yoong tewart had pat an end to his axistenoe in a moment oS firesay^ 8CBIPTUBAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 181 bui occasioned by the overwhelming fact of his complete ruin, and io which he well knew he had him)!:dif been the chief abeUor. Now all was wailing, mourning and despair. Oh ! how can I describe the scene? The poor 'Jiother weeping the untimely ftte of her first-bom, on^y son — ^lier idolized child. Her liOnd heart had clung to him through all the privation and trial wrought for her by his hand. Oh ! the depth of the love of a mother's heart! no shame or sin can wash it out; the deeper the sorrow the closer she clings. Oh I you who are blessed with mothers, regard it as one of the sweetest privileges to be allowed to watch over her declining years; beware now you Mnd a pang to her loving tender heart, for as you have learned In that pretty hym, God will look with anger in his ^es, V you should ever «Jare despise Yoar mother. Td paint the despair of the guilty wife, the heartless mother, as she found herself widowed and her babes fatherless, is a task b^ond me. I will theretbre turn to the kindness of my beloved father, who now generously came forward^ and, fop- getting all the injuiies she had endeavored to wortc for him, stood between her and ruin. Then it was he showed the in- estimable value of a true Mend, and restored as far as he was ftble peace to the broken-hearted. All just claims were settled, and as there was not a shilling left after the debts were paid, the beautiful homestead of course fell into my father's hands, who had already advanced twelve thousand pounds upon it. It was but a very short time after this that the younger Mrs. Stewaid fell into ill health — dissipation had undennmed her conc^tution, and now renorse was adding its deadly sting. Cancer threatened her lifo, and how could she expect, in this her hour of deep humiliation, that mercy which she had never nhown ^» others? But the fond mother whom she had so cruelly Injured was there; ahe turned not a deaf ear to the cry of agonv , but took her place by the side of the dbfferer, and •amestnr sought to turn her thoughts to her mercifitl Saviour. A bed of anguish is not the place for repentance; the inten- sity of pain so maddened the mind that It was impossible to Innng her to a sense of her own sinful state. She constantly dwdt on the advantages she had oast away, and that her chil- dren would now be bsggars; their worldly prosperity was all that troubled her. To think of the beautiful home from- which the was just passing away, as now in the possession of one she had so hated, was a knowledge which nuddened her. She could not but feel that her own folly and^|ad advice to her hnslMuid had been the chief means of disimieriting her own children. Her father had died suddenly soon after her impru- dent marriage, before he had time, even had he posoessea the Inclination oi altering his will, which, being made at the time whiUL hia mtaid was irritated arainst her, had cut her off ftom I f •■' r 1S2 fiORIPTUBAL ILLVSTBATI0K8. anj participation in his property. Poor Mrs. Steward, how tenderly did she watch over her ungrateful daughter-in-law. She and her daughter Emily waited day and night upon her, burying every unkindness and Insult in the untimely grave of the unfortunate suicide, showing mercy where they never re- ceived it, and feeling that it would not be granted to them even then if it laid in her power to deny it. I often used to go and sit with Emilv Steward, so as to allow Mis. Steward a few hours' rest, which she was unwilling to grant herself. One morning I accompanied my father, as Mrs. Steward had sent a message requiring his pt^sence, and was told upon my arrival that the scene was ftwt closing; the agony so long endured had yielded to the power of mortifica- tion, and the poor suflferer laid exhausted out free from pain on the bed, which, being shaded by large heavy curtains, I was enabled to hear what passed without being seen. When my father approached the bedside, and took the cold thin hand within his own, she asked him « whether he had come to add his curse to ';he many which were weighing her down r' Oh I how gently and kindly did he address the dying woman, as he expressed his earnest desire to give her all the comfort in his power to impart. He then sat down, and after explidning as succfnctlv as possible the state of the property, he told h^r that it was his intention to hold the homestead in trust for her children; that he never intended making use of his right to it; that it was solely for this purpose he bad himself become the mortgagee; that the children should be educated flx)m the rents derived fh)m this portion of her husbands property; that he would see to their welfare, making their grandmother their guardian. All claims against the estate which he himself had settled he destroyed before her eyes, and then, not stopping to hear the thanks which the dying woman tried to utter, he hur- ried home with joy and gladness in his heart, for he felt that he had been merciful according to his power. Nobly did my dear father fulfil his promise. Immediately after the death of Mrs. Steward the children were placed with tibeir grandmother and aunt, and the beautiful homestead let for a term of years. When young Steward attained his twenty- first birthday he took possession of the home which had been well nigh lost to him forever, and so well had the estate been manag^ during his minority, that he was able to secure both his aunt and sister a hanasome portion at their matriMe. Being a very seriously inclined young man, he entered ^e ministry. He st^ resides with his venerable grandmother In the place where Us father was bom, and when I was in Eng- land fbur years since I listened to many beautifhl sermons ftom his pulpit, one of which was preached ftom.the text upon which this tale is founded. Since I commeiiced writing this, my dear father has been galled to resign his earthly possessions, fo^, I trdst, thode hear fiCRIPTURAli ILLUS'TftATIONS. 183 yenly ones which are at God's right hand for evermore. He was, during the long life of seventy-eight years, blest with abundance. Freely did he give of it to the poor and needv. I never know him to turn a deaf ear to the cry of another; he gave with a liberal hand, and upbraided not; mercy charac- terized all his charities, and I do not deem it presumptuous to hope that he has obtained the mercy that he never denied to others; that he now enjoys the full completion of God's pro- mise, that « blessed are the merciful, for they shall find mercy." SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. << J7e ^that U aloto to anger is better than the mighty -j and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a ciiy." Pbov. of Sol., xvi., 32. I This verse, iny dear girls, is taken from the sixteenth ohap ter of the Proverbs of Solomon. Perhaps th^re is no book in the old Testament which contains so many precepts admonish- ing youth against the exceeding folly of indulging in bad tem- per. Not only does it make the person who gives way to it unhappy, but it destroys the peace of a whole household. Those who do not naturally possess a good temper, or whose dispositions have not been properly trained at home, will have to endure much misery when the v go forth into the world, for they will find a great deal to try them, aa all do, whether ridi or poor. Besides, bad temper is ifrequently discomposed by things as well as persons. If any little circumstance happens cross, even when no one is to blame, everyone within reach /must suffer for it, as if all things as well as all people, were to r^be in constant subjection to it. Can anything be so ridiculous MS for young people, when thej are corrected for any fault, to pout and mutter, an exceedingly disagreeable habit, which many girls make a practice of. If what is said is fit to be heard, it might be spoken aloud; if otherwise, nothing is gained thereby but the gratification of ill humor, and those who indulge such a temper always injure themselves the most by it. I often wonder whether yov ig people imagine them- aelves to be too wise to be wrong. Anyone would suppose so, to, Bef> now impatiently they listen to the reproofs of their teachers. I often feel inclined to ask how thev came by their wisdom, or how it comes to pass that they already know all that is to be known. A girl with suoh an unhappy temper 184 SCRIPTURAL ILLUSTRATIONS. may, indeed, torment hor teacher, and occasion her a groat deal of trouble and vexation; but it will produce far worRo oonseqiienceR to her elf. by keeping her m ignorance, and eaufling herself to be universally shunned. Solomon also de- clareii, '< Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit, there is more hope for a fool than him." On the other hand, good temper is its own reward, and those who are disposed to con- quer an evil one may ^K) encouraged by the verso which we have chosen for our c nsideration this afternoon. But as t know yon will feel more interested in my admonitions if made interesting to you by illustration, I will proceed to show you how much misery and unhappiness was caused in a family by one of the members, who was constantly giving way to temper on the most trivial occasiona After recovering firom a severe attack of fever, being in very delicate health, I was sent away from home on a visit to a dift- tant relative of mv mother's: this place being selected on ac- Oeunt of its i .oximity to the sea. Mrs. Fairfax had often visited my dear mother, to whom she was fondly attached, and it was during one of her visits that she offered to take me home, instead of my being sent to some other place which was firjt proposed. I was delighted at the prospect of enjoying a few months of the beautiful sea breezes, '*nd the freedom from my scholastic duties, fo^- tbc doctor had insisted on al^ cessation ftt)m study. The clow^ coiitinement to the school room had im- paired my health niiTscdb/lv that summer, till I at last was quite prostrated bv a l^w lu rvous fever; but I forgot ill-health ftnd every disoomrort whciii I stept into the carriage which was to tear me away from my Lated studies. Mrs. Fairfax must have thought she was taking some wild girl awav, but she was so gentle, and kindly allowed me to en- joy the mil bent of my exuberant spirits^ tin they were checked by utter exhaustion. It was quite late' at night when we ar- med at Mrs. Fairfox's dwelling, and as all the young people had long retired to rest, I was only too glad to follow their example, although the sound of the waven dashing up by the oliffls kept me from sleeping, so anxious v- ; 3 I to witness their Wild lieauty. When I rose the next morning a beautiful sight met my eyes. Mrs. Fairfax's dwelling was situated on the sammU of a tall cliff: a garden, bright with innumerable Mhrubs and flowers, laid just under the window, whilst the magnificent ocean rolled bevond in all its wild splendor, and waaned with its foaming billows the base of ^ ie cliff. The merry voice of the fishermen, as they were preparing to launch their boats, mingling with the noiso of the waves as thffir daeAied on the shore, was music to my ears, and I could scarcefy tear myself away from watching the beautiful ships whose white sails were glittering in the sunshine, to attend the suliji-. mons to breakfast. Mrs. Fairfiuc was seated at the table pouring out the i4^ SCBTl»ttfRAL iLLVBTAAnOttB. U6 Wtta sunt-. and kiDdly made room for me next to her, while she introduced me to her three daughters, Alice, Eaty and Ellen: the two elder 'yerc iv ins, about fifteen years of age, while Ellen was » year younger than myself. They were all pretty-looking girls, and received me verr kindly. As this was their holiday time, it did not take very long for us to got acquainted with each other, and immediately after breakfast we were sent to amuse ourselves on the beach, accompanied by an elderly ser- vant who always waited on these young ladies. Wd spent our time very pleasantly, pickin 'U, Jeiy amber, and the difi'erent sea weeds witn whic "as sti-ewed, until it was time to return to dlnuei ,ch meal Mrs. Fairfa.v proposed that we should amuet 8 in the garden and plantations till tea time. But all uur enjoy- ment was marred by Alice's tomper, which she showed me for the first time; and I now found to my dismay that she was peevish, discontented, selfish and exacting to a degree, and bayond ,^11 this she was so sulky that she would not speak. Tbis afternoon something was proposed that she did not like, therefore she would not play, or walk, or sit down on the beau4 ttfu.l gi'assy knolls, or in fact do anything we wished to do. Her Msters, used to her temper, paid no regard to her, but proceeded to their own amusements; but I had been so unac- customed to such displays that it spoilt all my pleasure, and these Areakb of temper were so often Indulged in by Alice, that I was always giitd when they confined her to the house. She could be the most agreeable girl when she was pleased, but that was so seldom tnat all our pleasure was marred by her selfishness and sulky :9t8. It was about a month after my arrival that the twins at- tained their fifteenth year. Mrs. Fairfax always made these anniversaries gala days to them, hy inviting all the voung people of the neighborhood, and giving them a pic-nic m the neautifal grounds. It was the seventh of August, and a glo«- rious day. I had been so happv all the morning assisting in ponveying fruit, flowers and all kinds of confectionery to the place appointed for our meeting, and arranging them on the rnstic tables put up for the occasion. Alice had been detained in the house assisting her mother, and I was just finishing the wreaths intended to be worn by the twins, when Alice in ft passion of tet\rs entered the arbour where I was working, and throwing heimlt down on the grass, declared that she was the most ill-used girl in the world. When I could prevail on her to speak, what was my surprise to hear that all this trouble'' was occasioned by the dress-maker, who, having received ft sudden ' demand for mourning, had been unable to finish the dress which Alice had intended to wear that afternoon. I was SO- ^understrack at the idea of a girl giving way to such ft burst of passion about a dress, that I could not answer her, and all my beautiful flowers fell to the ground as I attempted I ,^*^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) fs V 0/ 1.0 » |i£ 12.0 1.1 ? " ■ Photographic Sciences Cbrporation 23 WIST MAM STIin WIBSTIR,N.Y. UStO (71«)t72-4503 4^ % ? r6aoh with a tale of gosAip^ and as Alice' alwn^ aMMiJhed w the best advantage before him, he donbtlMs t(^' it for giaated she was amiable as she appeared; biit ho wis'^ middmily wcdce from his dream of security by a scene to whidi I now eall your attention. The weddiitt^ had been fixed to jiake ptooe eaily in the spring, tod SirlClharl<^ had occasion to go to London to make s(ma« filial preparations for this event, and had taken a tender. Iteve of AUee the night previous to his departure. Bat 80ia>' tiUhig or other dolayod bu journey for a dtt,v, and he fought he ought as Well go Over in the morning and spend a fisw more bmuii with Alioe, As he was frequently in. the habit of e^r ' I 188 BcrnvrrmAt illustrations. tering the drawing-room by the window which opened on to the lawn, he did so now. As he approached he was struck by hearing the voice of Alice, not in she soft tones he loved so well, but raised to the highest pitch ot anger. So intent was she on the subject which had excited her stormy passions, that s^ never saw him,' as he stood a spell-bound witness of the disgraceful scene. It happened that hor lady's mt&d had been summoned to her presence about some trifling mistake in her dress, and Alice was giving full vent to her anger in words very unbecoming a lady, when she suddenly tmned round ana met the startled glance of Sir Charles, whom she thought that instant was an hundred miles away. A look in which mingled sorrow and scorn were strongly blended met her astonished gaze, but without one word of ex- planation he quickly vanished firom the spot, leaving Alice with the comfortable assurance that he had heard every word oi her unchristian-like altercation. She sank down on the sofa, overwhelmed with shame, for she felt that her fote wajl sealed, and she possessed now not a hope of Sir Chu'les evdr making her his wifb. And she was right. A letter was given her the next morning, in which he released her from her eiki gagement, telling her that he dare not link hii fate with one who could so far forget herself, adding that he felt God QOuML never bless his union with her. . , Thus you see how the long indulgence of evil temper folnea. idl Alice's foir prospects; overwhelmed with shame and. con- f|udon. she could offer no excuse. She tried to bring pride to her aio, but as she really was attached to Sir Chanes, it did nothing towaifds alleviaung her misery, iemd as die grew oldnr she be^une the prey of her own evil dispodHon. I nevdr saw any of the family again, as upon the marriage of tiie two daughters and death of Mrs. FaMax, no communication was k|q>t up with Alice. I can now in conclusion only call upon you to jponder over the moral contained in this tale, and if aoy of you have hitherto indulged in evil temper, let me li^oeeech ot yea to be warned of the consequences ere it is too litte^ Go and learn of the meek and gentle Jesus, who, when he was ve* ^(^ y vtted, reviled not agaiiyin whose own oeautiftil words declare <baoe-makeiB| for they shall be CiUed the children of God." SGEIFTUEAL ILLUSTRATIONS. *^ Vpon the first day of the week let every one ofvou lay (y him in stare as Cfodha^ prospered Mmj that (here be no gatherings in when I come. "—1st Cob. xvi. 2, In this chapter St Paul exhprts the Corinthians to xeUera SCRIPTUBAL ILLUSTBATIONS. 18ft 56 no the wants of the brethren, he evidently means by the word fiainiB thoBQ who ga,\& themselves up to the ministry of Christ. It therefore behooves us to try to da all we can towards the support of those who labour in Christ's vineyard. Now thia verse, chosen for our present consideration will perhaps be tho most difficult one I have bad given me to illustrate, but, stilly I think I can remember a few events which will bear sufficioitly 00. the meanine of tiiis text to render it interesting to yon, ana I trust you wiU give it the same attention you have done the verses whieh preceded it A gentleman who was minister in a small village in the North of England, and whose salary was a mere pittance, had amongst his flock a poor widow, in whose welfare he was extremely interested. Her sentle manners vece a proof that she had seen better days, although she waa very reserved on the subject, and was now living in. a very poor cottage meanly ftimished, and supporting herself and onljf soi^ with the labor of her hands. She was too poor even, to flead'lMiis child to the villa^ school, and had educated hiiiii herself during any spare time, and was morbidly careftd to guard him firom mixing with the rude village bovs as his cemc Frediicke Emsly was a very talented boy, and soon ^h for more knowledge than his mother was able to impturi a^ earhr showed a great desire to enter the ministry, but what cbanoe nad a poor ^dow's son to attain the ednpar tion which was to fit I|im for a station f^o exalted above the one he held! He- evidently shrank ftom a life of manual labon which was his onl^ prospect, although he most wUiinfflyani eheerfnlly aided Ma mother in all her difficulties. The Rev. Augustus Sidney watched this youth with gr^t interest, and ■adly felt his inaUlity to assist this young aspirant for clerical husnors. His own time was so fully employed visiting in hit scattered district that he felt the imposcSbility of even te^iebing Mm, as it would require more mental energy than his bodib strength would admit of. His church barely paid him enouga to live by. and It seemed impossible fbr him to laj by 9^J0t Ids store for the accomplismneait of thia desired wonu ma sar$8honers w jre competed of the poorw olaases, more or Ism igmavakf and looked with a degree of jealouinp on. one who aspired to be better than his noighbois. Many were the aiudous and dleepleas nights spent by this good man in de- vising meaieui to help this ]poor widow's son in his chosen paU». • He fiut God h»d been very good to him, and he desired to show his gratitude by layii^s by a small part of his small store for tkepunpoee of assisting this young man. But the dUBouIty was to find out ftom wnence this supply was to comej he live^ f»re frugally than waa quite consistent witii the pieservation bU health, Ibr the labors of many of those noble men who vote their lives to Grod's service^ were, at the time of Which t write, very badly remunerated. The Rev. Augustus Sidney, however, detennined to do something tiiat woiud benefit m , ii 1^ SOBlPTirAAL ILLUSTRATIOKS. Tonng fovorite, so he offered to prepare hipi for college, hoping by that time to have laid by sometbing from his smaU stipend and fervently trustinff to God for the rest. Toung Emsley im- mediately oommenced his studies, his kind tutor never flagging in his seUT-imposed task, and for four years steadily persevered in the duties required. About two miles from the small parsonage was situated the beautiful manor of Sir Stanley Irvin, but he had been abroad for years, and the house left in charge of his steward. Now this man had received orders ftx>m Sir Stanley, to do all the good among his tenantry which would have been done by him- setf had he resided amongst them. But this man was by nature morose and hard hearted, with an eye solely for his own aggrandizement; he was both feared and hated by the vil- lagers, for he punished with unsparing hand any trespass on the game rights of the manor. ' < ' One morning he received a letter from Sir Stanly, de9irihjg him to have everything put in order at the manor house for tSie reception of himself, his widowed daughter and her children; imd expressed a hope that he should find all his tenantry in a flourishing condition. That Sir Stanley should come tc redde at the manor house after years spent in foreign lands was an event which the steward never calculated on. For after the deathof Lady Irvin, Sir Stanley expressed great rehictanee to stay in a place which could not mi to remind him of his irreparable loss, and had gone abroad immediately alter her fimeral. And now, thus suddenly to be called upon to give an aooount ftble appean«,nce of bis tenai^ry, and to hift surprise and indig- nation he learned that his steward had reAised ail aid, and 1^ oonstantly distraining for rent, etc., had sunk them to what they had now become, a rebellious and lawless, set. il&NjMtrt . jnvestiffiition was made b y Mr. Stanley, and a diort time eon- viiused him of the stewarcTs guilt, whom, after being made to disgorge his ill-gotten wealth, wb^dlsmissed with tlie ignominy he so well merited. ' *. The baronet took great delight in the sod^ of Mr. Sidneyl r whow noble acts of self-deniu he could so well admire m. ttppinciatc. Every thing that Mr. Sidney pointed ont aia likely to benefit his flock, was most generously responded to by . ihe baronet nor was he himself forgotten, and a salary adeqnato ,^lo hit inmk m one of God's ambassadors was Immedittely set- 19& BOBIPTUBAL IliLUSTEATIOfira, c^r tied on him hj Sir Stanley, thus enabling him to carry out all his views for young Emsley's benefit, who was now so fi^ advanoecl in his studies, as to be considered fit to enter college. Ii^ a few months after the arrival of Sir Stanley Irvin, any one would have been struck with astonishment at the changed appearance of the village. Smiling plenttr was diffused evertr where. industi;y and contraitment walked hand in hanOf Schools were bmlt and superintended by Lady Som^neL who waa constantly visiting among the poor, and seconding all VU^ Sidney's efforts to raise their moral and social condition. It would be impossible for two such persons as Lady Somei^ sei and Hr. Sidney to meet so constantly without appreciating each others character) and the baronet watched wiui delight the evideiit affisotion springing up between them. The ii3ii^ mities of age were |^«dualTy undermining his constitution, and he ftlt thf^t with such a noble protector for his daughter he need hav^ no foar for his fature. and when Mr. Sidne J timidly requested the great boon of her hand, he gladly gave his amo- tion and bleasuiit . A merrv, happy day was that to the village when l(ta4(r Somerset became Sidney's wife and as year succeeded veairlk only brought an increase of happiness, for thev walced In God's ways. The temporal wants of their flock were weU pvevided for^ but they sought earnest^ and dillflently to U^ w flwidation of that hope, the fruit of which is lue everiastinj^ Mrs. Bmsly, who had long been housekeeper at the manon lived to see her most sanguine h^Mefhifilled, when herbeloved ■OA took his place as oruute to ms kind and generous tutor. As years rolled on a better class of people grew up under ^e teaching of Mr, Sidney tinue M the uMMitor house, it seemed to him the best reparation hie could make to his tenantry for the years of potertv imcl suf- fering they hiad endured through the villainy of the tu^ust §tewvd* t|ie eharaeter ofSfaLSidney was well, calonli^ted to suppzesf iBrime and immerau^. and the food dd baroneti althon^ eoasoious that lUs talents were deservlni; a more extended ypherOf yetll^tthatln no place could he hrj more use|hl. A pew geneiiation had to be trained, and Sidnev was so beloved ^ the youiVul members of his flock that hhi influence oontd QotMofwovmu^fd^rhim a gre«t reward in the jprosperi^ and morality of his beloved parlshoners. The (^il^renwej^ early trained to l»^ Uy . » store fo» the gpod of ottieis; . enMOii. ei^ <» wV m T>*f^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ adn^ihister ^, ti^e waataofp^pedr. 7hus elinployed, the years pass^ awsj, i^id as e^h dhnghter married, she <»rried the <^u!t. of hir liserol trauBJtng to gladden other homes. BGBIPTU&iL ILLUSTBATIONB. Its talentB, a fund wm laid bir expreuly to meet the wants of thoM who desired' to wallc in a higher path of life; and manr I cler- gymen in England, who are justly and deservedly beloved, owe their means of education and present station to Mr. Sid- n^'s ftJthfiil discbarge of the teust reposed in him by Sir Stanley. Mr. Sidney is still living; the evening of his days are calm and serene; everything around him speaks of smiling plentv. for God has prospered his store. The old manor house still echoes with the glad voice of children, for grandpa delights in the innocent mirth of his childreii's children. Peace dwells among tbem, and Mr. Sidney awaits calmly the hour wben he will be called upon to resign his earthly inheritance for that heavenly one which is promised to all who, by patient endu- rance, strive to attain unto it. You have now, my dear girls, seen how, in povertv, Mr. Sidney endeavored to lay by, of his small store, to assist one ■ more needy than himself in his aspirations to fill the sacred office of Grod's minister; and you see how, in his great and full prosperity, he forgot not the author of all good things. Will you not let his example prove instructive to you all by endea- voring to follow it as far as you are able? Let me then affectionately urge on you all the duty of giving a small portion of what God has bestowed upon you, to admin- ister to the wants of others. Do not say, <' I have so little it is not worth giving;" remember — ** It is little drops of water, and little grains of sand, Tliat makes tUo mighty ocean, and the beuiiteoiis laud." But what better incentive have you than the poor widow cast- ing her mite into the treasury, of whom our blessed Saviour declared <^That she had cast in more than they all; for all these, of their abundance, cast in unto the offerings of God; but she. of her penury, hath cast in all the living she had." God does not I'egard the sum laid by out of your store, but the spirit which prompts the action; '* give according as you are disposed in heart, not grudgingly or of necessity— tbr God loveth a cheerful giver." It is in the power of everyone to do some Idndly thing or other by which they can administer to the comfort of another, and oh! believe me, my dear girls, there is nothing so capable of rendering your walcing hours happv, ^our sleeping ones calm and peaceful, as the blest recollection of having been made the instniment, in God's handii, of ministering to the necessity of another. I can only, in conclusion, beg of you to ponder over this exhortation of St. Paul's, to lay by of your abundance, or of your pittance, or of anything whereby God hath prospered you, that you may be amongst those, at the last dav, whom our Saviour will address as those blessed of His Father, saying: « Inasmuch as ye have done it uuto the least of these my brethren, ye have SOBIFTURAL ILLUBTIIATIOinU done it unto me; oobm and inherit the kingdom prepared for yon flibm the ftmndatlon of the world." • • • # It 9 * • We liave now oome to the oonclnrion of the vo ra ee olMNen for 6ar oondderation, and eameitly do I tnut my dear girto, that they haye not been read without in some diegiwe answering the ■ole end for whiob they were written. > May God bleat them to yoii all, it the heartfolt prayer of yonr allwtionate teaoher. r. 0. T. Avedfor oMnfor rli, that tlnigthe mjeroT T. « •