354 ta II Cult. lITTIIE BELL He pi43ethisell who loyeth well ,Both iind andlreast:—Co:i.siwaz , . I —, Piped the,blackbird on the heechwood spray— ' "Pretty Maid, slow wandering this *ay, What's your •narne ?" quoth be.. • 7 "'What's your - name? 0 stop and straight un , .1. fbld, "'Pretty maid, witb•showery curls of gold 1" '`' Little tell' "' said ihn4.- 1 ittle Bell sat down beneath Abe reeks 4. ' gleamingy gelded-loc*s— *rr " Bonny bird I" quoth she, 11- : f(Sitigloseyoor best sot* ferelfgni" ,",:fege's the very,,flopst song 4 knpw, . Little tell," said he. • c!,l ; • And,the blaekbird Aiped-nyou never heard , BO gay a !Milk from any ' • Pia oft quips aid wiles, Irow sni•ronnd, and rich, now. so soft and low, 'Ail - for love of that `Sweet face belaw, - Dimpled o'er . Witii - sti tiles. • 'f And the 'while that Bonny bird did pour " Hisrfall heart freely o'er aniLo'er, ' 'Arpath ; the morning skies, i In the little chird:ish heart below, Allsweetncista'seenied to growand grow;- t, A.ndshone,in happy, overflow, From the blue bright eyes. 12t.ovi &Ake ,dell she gripped, and through the glade Peeped the Squirrer from the hazel shade, told frcim out the Vitae, • - •'• Btrusgand leaped and frolicked. void of fear— While bold, blackbird piped that all -alight' ; 4 " Little Bell I" piped be., • awn amid the fern— qvirrelt!, squirrel!, to your task return— _Fr, Bring me mite's!" quiath she. ' ' ' IsTlcAv‘ away ! 'the friskyrsquirrel - thies- . -- ,4,301 den w An ood-lights - gloaming in his eyes; d down the e. • Grail ripe , nets, kissed brown by JUly lealie-hOle lap drop one by one— - • ' , Hark !' how blapitbird pipes to See the fun! , ' ' " ' 66 liappr-BellT'-quoth he, • " Little Bell looked trp and'down the glade— '' I, tquirrelf squirrel,rfiom the nut-tree shade," l ,Bonny hlaelbird, : if you're not afraid, . ,Come'and dialge with ma I" • :. Down• came squirrel, eager for. his kate÷. ,- Down came bonny hlackbird, ,I decline; ' -,..,,. , Little Bell gaie each his hrinest iliare.;-• . ' ' Ah'ile mel.ey three' I; .". / .--",.• ; . ' • ; ~..ir 1..- . 1 ,,,,..1.... And„ Ville 'the frolte rasp:nate twain ' • 1 Piped it ',llialted; from bough'again,' ; .'' ' ; . ,„„ ,! eao l ,the morning„skiek,„ i ltt. Iri the ttle childieh heart. he,lelw "'' All sweetness seemed to groti v inttgrow; - . Shining-in happy overflow, _ :' if IT'TFJ.F7'I.42Y-PFb!'e;. bright e 7,16“ - - ;Sy her snowy-White ea at close of day, '''Strelt'sigret'Bell, With' `folded palms, to pray ; .:'./tf m i'irtekyicalccritlld..ceaf ' , i , ,;,,,, Bose ;hp praying l veice,torwhere, unseen '' l la blaiilliethim;.an angel shiipe heidite ' ~: .1, ;.:Paused a,While.tlck hear:, 'I. , , ' - Mrifit iohdchildia said, That ;iiiith , hailpyiheart•beaille•har.hed, 7, • 1 1 taya so lovngily ?" so'ft;Cl'l very -To' and soft; , (frac timed the: biaplghird•in th,e .ofohard crofti'' "Bell, dear Bell !" crooned he. • - ' 46 :Whom f}p4's, ereaturestove i r thp a igel!fair Murmured, 6 , God. dotli; btess with angel's caro l OlA"td, trii* . bed Folded safp-frArrijkarxni—deve dep, audiond Shall watch arpundand ieave good gifts behind, ' I.liti4 flefl;' for:thee." •re„foindanAikionfeamo `g 7 2". ) , _.' r f ALGNIWITEE JESUS., • • 0 , ;•-•-""'" , • r. iloSne*With.J'eSild Lea 44) *iitti 'here :: MCithotit• a 'Wish, !without. a feai ; n , , ylt npulA lse is weak r and,faint Loy breath, Nei - 14 ntit, the Lord Or'tterith IQ' Tia all'theisaate when, he istnigly live,, or if I die.. ) .It4Cinb with olesustbYeTwbol:weepoki And round my bed your vigils, keep, My love was never half so strong ": And Yours- , .-olrl, If have proved pitlong But t wheri,had earl fnenda tlie t poxer 'To obnifOrt is n'dying hotirl • Alone with Jesus t Oh, how sweet. "' ' In health 'tO worship at; But sweeter 'far when, day by day, ~ We droop an,d pine and waste away, TO't ai eel his 'ms 'aVound , hi Close, • ' , iti:nd. in his bosom dud repose! . • ;. • l''"Atoritiboirts r eHar — e ; f f •NAe-implysielf,t4ttjn2 hoN pare.; The ter eatsbowl, the waters beat, Tildy/harni.me'beitfirritiy tistreat WightlleVilensi - dxsidite 09 011 1 and•chill. ;ii • fdi I {.l aw,f.ne pear,er,.to 14rn r. • *iO4 , ,44 ll 9 l ,h4kalarnlt The infant in his,mother's arms ?. = " 'Beforii eat h • • ri.i'lnla:MY4lefid,.ol , 4iciftseiPmr, eMeg:+. , There's 'nought for me to fear or,do, ' I noh , that " To , ••t,=,:••• , ; ..eldik With Jeinisi Earth kiews died ." 't • n 4-even ) efire'inprilklay ; f ,Minlel ti4tOgs.l44lftwe.a4itive,l, ) , ' Reveal to me one life, otie ;-- • That One in whom all gloriesglories . AU beantfain'ett--that One is mine ? cf . .` c.. :IA • ' ims' a- Ity igeal r I +Wdrneri 'Authors' of - tbe Wld_,<lWlder World," "Old 1(e1m0, 9 ,,de. , tr.:..= t .• L TOR owl. 80itring1.1 • '' „ ; , tl7(` 1 t: t I Chavter `V. • 'lk Idol 7” ‘i ; ` Inn not suping that Johnny *AS a l ld'e l alitraya'to Pay' in the •• *did :tiyithe - mere- profit , ho could make hod his match. basket. :Board. and kidgink and clOtaes cost something, if. a bpylis/trli4g :live rkiSpePtably ; and ,the. .41,1uny: was y studying hard, and, , books .and teachers, cost something, too. However,'he got 'On well. Some kind frien l ds lent' hire' a 'little' to'ney, t and, WiiitedJfortheir 'pay; ' willing 'to help a 'boy 4ho tried so earnestly to helpintn— , keg); and Johnny in due time - paid them . ,:ukfter,a while, he went to. New Haven,, z andiliN;pcl- in, the. Theological Semlnary, ,:,,,there, ptudying,nd ' selling.matches, and other I,rif(q,, just a 0 lie had done in. New ork, though, 'as he said, "it was pretty 'lead *ork 't,d'atteiid to hiSboOlcs and his • Ctiftemeri tbti!" And"iiew 'a newt-plan" foigetting Money dame' into` his ,or .t.cperhapa. waa put th.ere by somebody ( t It he should write little life of •himself, an , account of what he had, been , , and wl at,,the Lord had done for• hip, maybe isoineone 7ould print it and nay- • "be other peoide; would 4 buy it. His 'edficatioia *ail gning on well,now, andin hie 16ittre mom'ents Ohnny worked at his little book. And when it was done, somebody .clicl-print 4,,- 77 and theniohn, •n 7 hiriaseif told f about the I .,conntry ; and it sold With thelnOney that 'came frinick.J . his;:4 , 3 repaid' nearly $:300 which:he a'wedlto differen4eople who had helped on his education ; add: , part of the time he also supported his two little brothers. And never forget ting hat it was'to waft.f , o94l l ql: l haw: , good it is to help poor bOy Who'vrarda" to get an honest living, Johnny began to put out some of his money at thatxreat interest, which all.receii , e , who tsclend to ..the,,l l ord,'' 77 -verysoonit was said ofhim, `he is always doing kind things with his Money.' One day it was,,a dinner to •sonte:starving urchins,,---and another -a fieffh,supply,of , matches to one whose.' basket and .pocket,. were both empty. To this 'poor, child. he lent $3 to set him Up in life as an honest newsboy; and,to this other he' gave 0,3 to startlaim in a I trade. You;see that Johnny was not one of thosa who " be rich ,, in' the world,'! ,, --exeeptintheipleasure of doing good : le began his missionary work in New-York without , waiting. to be old enough to stand in the pulpit and preach. Everywhere he carried the same open heart and hand, the same 'Cheerfnl face; iodizing, as' I suppose, always unto Jesus:, There were a' great many- little boys at that time who'were'•beautiftdry dressed, who had, everything that they . could wish; who' were; many .of them, what people call noble, boys.!-'—with fresh, ruddy -cheeks, ,and -bright eyes, and quick ppringing,,steps. Very, t... very few men ,and, women would turn from these chil dren, to' lOok .4 a- pale-faced, lame, somewhat deformed boy; standing per 7 taps'at One of 'the dark street corners in Xelt'York, in' the 'midst' of -a' little crowd of ragged newsboysand match-" sellers ;but I think the angels did. .For Johnny was telling thesenyoung outcasts; .of Jesus- bidding them come to ; telling them to ",work righteousnesSand live 'uprightly; 'and..ffear,,Gad alwaYs."' ' Albany , was rcOt a very hig'boy,even 'then, though .he''inftst lave-. been ; near sixteen';l.l3.o year's at , leastihe Was Asti growing.. .'up,,' and soon the i tiine would come . I,whou he hoped to be a preacher, Then -,God interposed and said ;;;;., •. ,• c.- : 'Children, whatever fi-od does ia i well,- he pannot make a mistake and all his arrangements and dealings : arii , good for, those that Youremem 'ber hal gto; on . fp' tell yOi 'the rest of Johnnyli story. ':.• He "had always been-lime; but now 'disease: followed the lanieness,,and began •to.make hita I think the:boy's faith= afd hope must have been bright.. Over, Jtor.hp,met the thought, of, suffering and ileathrwithsteady .(imetness. t "jaw* in ,New York When he found this 'con di* hpo'it Octer i s ,said that if' :ho saVelhia life he mast saihmiVina:very dreadftil- operation. ' doet kilo* law Johnny managed. to •get about,---on .that poor diseased'dleg ; but. ~ ..when; the doPtOXik told Jim Ark , pa i4,.off a -few, debts 'that ; he owed in Newi York, and then Made . his way . over. ; Brooklyn., There he engaged and paid fora lodging, and 'then - put the lands of thelphyeidians, asking them to make 'the operation 'Wiry. -thoijoVgh;- and'ifsthey could i do curethis deformity; need not be distressed ln little dren.,i to think of what ; Johnny t had Ito suffer,, -.he has long been,;where there is no more pain, nor sorrow, nor Crying ; only make sure that yoii loVe the Lord Jeans - as he did, thaeed Whatever cower',' all May he' hell'with' y6it as it was 'With , him. For Johnny's peaCe and cdurage never failed such serenity, such'trust, Doctor L. said he lad-never seen. But it was trust in Christ—not in the doc tors;' "; trust in thatAne Friend who now as formerly had, ."all, power in' leaven and-on 'earth!" • • i !!!=il ;,. They 'gave' the boy chloroform; and iwhen,the 'operation was lover; , 'and •he had,,revived a< little, Johnny asked' the ,doctor e if,,leshould, be lame-still; or , if: that, .was,.clued. And they,,toid him that there was no cure for it in 1 this world : vei:k in the mi'dst of his suffer lingc'Jelinny tried'tit sonde. ' ' he said; readY:is'tisiiii to Puri lifight , face-on things--' ?taint BO ' bad after all; fer,,noiv, :when I want; I can; limp , ,and be r-a fellowor, I -.cm 4rstch, np and be „a man. ; , , Xoll< children cry, for., a finger, and" . fret. over a little pain, learn that through ail the Weary days r and nights that fell6wed; Johnny never lost his cheerfulness. He hid. l been through such pain-'as r-moit:of" your never even' imagined=; .he 'was very, very weak and suffering still;- and in au they world . he' had ,no friend- but strangers. But he was ever, ,looking off unto Jesus; ",and. the.eyes of the deformed, sick, homeless lad: shone'with a strange and quiet joy, which the bystihderi j eould hardlyco.m prehend. de - not fear to die;'' he said: I feel all ready. r I unit in , Ohrist.' • And thus trusting• Christ for, the next world, thus sure that Ileath,,could •not separate o lhim: from.;his, 'Saviour, might Johnny i ,trust:him .with „all that had to ,do - with,his life., How strangely the - 14 a. was - Ica:ding him on ! The students to *hem' he used to 'Sell ma, ; tcheS . in the Seminary were many of them ministers now one in this church and city and another in that;and others gone far, far away as. missionaries: to, heathen lands. ,Do you think. Johnny forgot that he had , wanted to be a mis sionary,? Do, you think he ceased to • :think of`those,wretched people to whoin he had hinged' to bear the glad "tidings of Salvation ? I am sure* h' reniera bered it all. But it was the Lord who PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 186- had cut short, his studies, bringing this sickness'upon him, hind the I.Jord does all things Well. Johnny knew this', The sweet Bible work which he had laved so.:*ell came to"his mind now, Apeaking hope and comfort ; saying to him Fea,r not,—bidding him trust in the Lord alway. And so as the weary ta,ys of , pain crept by, 'this strange, quiet".l4' in Johnny's eyes never clouded over. Still, he did not fear to die ; still. i .he.wa.s all ready, trusting, n Christ. lint.the.doetor, began ;to hope, that he would live. The wound seemed to be dbinrwell; and'Johnny begaii to gain strength a little.: Oneday before the doctor had paid his accustomed.visit,Johnny lay thinking how very kind he had: been; , how many, of those cheering visits , had coine to brighten the lonely dtiys, and'io*much care, the doctor had taken of him. And then 'Johnny thought to hiniself that it Was time to stop, giving so much trouble. There'lvas the, doctor, not only coming to see 'him every day, but havirig ito dress the, woundtoo,--now if he could only do that ,part of thework,bimself, there'Woidd'be just so much time and trouble saved to the ddctor. You' must remeniber-that Johnny had always been Used tb waiton himielf, and had often • done things which Seemed' very harder than the',mere changing , of, a, bandage. And so he began hisi work.. .13ut alas, though goodwill can do much, sometimes, she needs skillto help her ; and Johnny with some of. his ,unskilful handling, opened the wound, 'And the blood began to flow. t = - I do not know whether the',People 'of the' house—when at last, - -they heard Johnny's cillcame too, late ; 1 or whether the doctor was needed, and could not be' i found ; hut before ,the. right help came, little,,Johnity;Ulmost bled -to death. had been very weak; !before; and now all his i ,strength was .gone; and never •revived again ; but grew weaker, and fainter; bitil in. &It tle while the Lord took him home,-, T a young preacher of faith 'and patience, to the last. •He;*Wasall trusted in Glizist? 1 " , ' 't 'Up to an g ' everlasting home with:Christ, tits he sli t irie theliOnteless newsboy took fligh l t: the 'poor, hiredlied'Ay, the worn-out little body; , and under,* pilloW an 'old pocket book 994-. tainifig . all4Ohnny's earthly iibisessigus. In one part &few TennieS'; in =the ether 'a soiled little scrap t•ofikPaper—a ; receipt for three dollars: -from the little news- boy;tO•whomi Johnny had lent that sticii; l to .help him begin an honest - may, of life The young ,'borrower was toiling i on his way yet;—the young lender was l goneto inherit the kingdom] . , , All who knew little Bengie's _mother felt that she, was a' : sincere Christian,' earnestly struggling, to overcome frailz, .and.sius native tp.Aurnan heirts: Ong day liengie had been, sitting unit suall J-. still: near his mother"when : he: looked' up 'With a sli:ide o Pertile'xiti gon `his little face and` asked, "ArV you ,a Christian, , mamint . ?" " , WelEwhat. do you, think about it, ' son ?,' replied ; the mother, for : she really w4hed..to know the .child's estimate of her Christian character.— "I think you are a. Christian mamma but not a traie Christian," said the child; who had been 'Clearly 'taught :the 'difference 'between professing and possessing a _Christian spirit, arid: his. mother, hadheen. careful' to: teach him from, , the Bible atanclard of piety, even though it should 'condemn her own shortcomings. , "And why," she continued, " do you think Jnammuis . ,nctra. true' Christian ?" " 0, 'cause" said the little boy," you get angry sometimes," ,- spir4l44 t and , devoted minister, said, : nut long-since, "Other people may be Mistaken fibmit our 'Characters but: our children', never are , They. , are: shred observers, quick - and f aCC`nrate in; and their estimate - 0' tharatter,. juit • as , it is `se i en ,, fry them every. day, May be, relied buns .corredt.:" If we have; tf3mrsai4gbly iretracted 'the conscience of :a„child, we shall•find that he, unconscioAlY,hrings all, human thin duet Co the lest of 'the standard we have taight - him rdeogilize'rand - We need mot' be surprised if'we - :are Often startled by questionings . 'that send; ,us, away' to;sad heart ,searchings,, and ~tear ; ; ,ful , prayer, as the.most , effective Sermon could pot have:dcne. ALIZA,AITRELL. , , AN ALLEGORY, ,FOR.:THE CHILDREN. • In the cool and aliadoWy cloudi of a distant mountain, hard by` a mossy spiing, 'a little brooklet had its birth;. and; with a, - pure heart; a kenerolis tune, and a lively and icheerful: spirit, it started upon its course through the world, bent on a life of activity and usefulness. One fday, when it had reacled the pain and was harrying on with Ank-, ling feet to bear itS"tribute'fo the Fiver, it chanced - to pass near •by a siagna4 'pond.. The pond hailed At. ( Pond.-----" Whither away, , master streamlet ?" am„ bearing, to the river this 'pp of,cold.water,! which God has giyen,to s • . Pmid.— <4 You are very loolish to do that; you. will needlt yont`Self before die summer isßiver ; we haie,i)ad a very backward spring and we shall have a THE Skl . uid-THI:ON,§- THB•`BROOK AND 'THE POND hot summer to pay for it,and then you will dry up . ." • • Brook.—" , Well if there be a danger of drying soon, I had better work while the day lasts ; and if to lose this water from the heat, I had better do good with it while I have it." And-so -- on it - went, singing - and sparkling upon its, useful way s , The pond smiled crOntempttiousry upon the folly of the " babbler," as it styled the. brook, and.. settled down, complocentlyiintO the conviCtion of the superior wisdom of its own cove lotisness : and - 'husbanding all its resources againstlthe imagined day :of need, it suffered not a drop to leak away. So, the midsummer days came round, and very hot days they were indeed. But what WaS the effect of the heat ? Did' the little brook dry up ? Nothing of the kind. Why, 'him did it escape? Well, the trees crowded to its ibrink,. and , threw their sheltering branches , ,ever it, for it had-brought life, and re freshment to them ; and the sun peep ing , through the_ branches, only smiled pleasantly upon its dimpled, 4 ace, as it said: " Who, would harin,Yed, pure and beautifill brooklet ?" things seemed inspired with' a similar send meet towards it. The flowers .sprang up along its boider, and reflected, their brightest tints from it&mirror-like sur face, and, breathed their sweetest fra grance upon its bosom: , The poet came, to 'hear the music of its warbling voice, -and, the artist to behold 'the beauty of its winding way.. The hushandmait's eye always sparkled with joy as he looped Upon;theline of verdant beauty that so plainly marked its course through his fields and ,"meadows . Even the beasts of the fiel levedto linger by,ite banks or. to stand. and drink.the pure water fromit quiet ,eddies. And so on it went blessing 'and ?blessed -of all. But, giving sofreely and so constant ly, did itmot exhaust its resoukces' did it.not, run, 4ry ?; Notiat; all, eaw to that. _ltcarried its full :gap...to :the riyer„,and eniptied,.it freely ; the river tore it on to the sea, and the seat wereerne'd With: uplifted' hands ;, the upen the sea, and the sea sent , up its ~ , i t- . y` incense to greet the, sun, ; , the clouds,, like, great ' censor, Pups, :ought( the tribute, in their- capacious ;.bosoms,:and the winds, like whitingl , angels of God; took-the ' - conds in••their • strong. arms and bore them. 'swiftly away—away , to the very 'moun4 fain that gave the'little; broOklet'birth ; and there; over . that cool ravine, they 'tipped the brimming cup,,a,nd poured, it air aback ,again; and, 80 . 40 d BP* to '. it thatathe ittle;brook,,so ,active so gener ous, so useful, , hould never run dry. • But how fared the p0nf1.?..: very different indeed was: its fate. In • , its mistaken :prudence , and selfish: ddleneSei it grew,Sickly in itself and pestilential injits'influence; se that O.:beheld' it hut toßlislike it: The &rider sighed and shook 'his 'head 'wlienevei' he looked upon it. The!'bitiien Whe` to - .seek a • L .01 country seat ,clechned• to: purch 3 a,se as soon as , he, { ,diseovered Ac k artist and the pciet saw , , no charm in it,. and bagel:led past ! it.: ,The beasta,.of the field: put in their, i, lips, but ~withdrew, them without drinking,' and, turned away, toWardalhefbreok: =The evening zephyr steeped 'and kissed the twilight; by mistake `and ' caught its malarions'breatli =and- carried it uncon sciously to all the ,housea around. The people of the regien soon grew sad and sallow, andbegan to ,shake with ague; and burn withh - fever : _ and at last, with constitution& well , nigh shattered they were compelled to move away from .its neighborhOed. - And filially Heaven, in mercy to man and'tonatnre; smote it with the hottest 'breath' of- the sun, and dried it tip forever. And the wise ',pon dered the - histery of . the pond,and the brook, and saw how, the, book of Nature illustrated, the book of Revelation, and how true a.say-ing of the latter: it was " There is that scatteretli, and yet in-1 creaseth; and there is thatwithholdeth inerk than' is meet, but it tendeth ! to pniertY. - The' liberal , soul'' shall - f be made fat, and he . that Waterkli 'shall he. watered'' alsci 'himself."—Prow. xi, 24. 25.=- 0 111ethodist Protestant:' - . trIE L 'YbIJNG PEDDLER "' ,One rainy. afierithoh, in: the earliest part of autumn, I heard ,a low knock my . back door, and upon ,opening it, I found a peddler, Peddlers are a great' vexation to me ; ,they leave the gates open, they never have'anything I want, and I (19n't like the 'faces that. belong to most Of them, especially those of the strong men who go 'about with little packages of coarse'goods; • and I alWays close the -door upon them, saying to myself, "lazy." , ,This was a little , boy, and he •was pale, and wet, and looked so cold that I forgot he was a peddler,, and asked him to come in by the fire. ' thoUght,, he appeared as "though he expected I was 'going to. buy sothething, for•:he com .menced 'openiug hiS tin boX. but I had no such intention. 'He looked in my face very earnestly and sadly; when I told him to warm himself by, the - fire, and that, I did not wish to purchase any thing. He .rose slowly from his seat, and there was , something,in his air which reproached me, and I detained him ,to' inquire :why. he was out , in - the rain. He replied: • " • am out every day and dan t sta, in for a little ram ; 'besides, most ped dle'rs stay at home 'then, mi' can sell more on rainy days.", " How much doyoue day ?" ",Sometimes twO shillings , etimes - !One; and once in a while I get nothing 'ill day, and ,then,, ma'am, I am very Here, gave a quick, dry cough that startled me. " How long have you had that cough?" " I don't kno)v,ma'am.",.. " Dn'e's` poi!" "yes, ma'am." " Where, does your mother live ?" " heaven, ma'am," said he, un moved. " Have yon'a father ?" " Yes, ma'am, he is with mother," he replied in the same tone. " Have you anytbrothm or sisters ?" "I had a little sister, but she went to mother about a month ago." " What ailed her ?" " She wanted to see mother, and so do I, and I guess that's why I cough BO." " Where do you live ?' " WithlVlrk BizEwn, on N--street." "Does she give you any.medicine for your couh? "" Not doctors' medicine; she 'is too poor ' but she Makes -something for me to take." "Will you take something, if Lgive it to you?" "No, ma'am, :thank you; mother took medicine, and it didn't help her; though . sbe wanted to stay, and you see I want_ to go, it would not stop my Cough. Good day, ma'am." " Wait a, Minute,' I said, I want to see What you carry." He opened his box, and for once I found what. I. wanted. Indeed, I don't think it would ; have mattered what' he ,had. I shouldlia,ve wanted it, for the little peddler had changed in my eyes— he.had a father and mother in heaven, and sci had I HoW strange . that ped dlers had never seemed peoplehuman sourftlled beings 'before ! How thank ful helms,. and how great his blue eyes looked into. mine when I:paid him ! "Tot/ ,don't ask me to take a cent less," said .he, after,- besitating _a 'mo ment. think you mustl)e very rich." ".p, no," I replied, " ram far distant from that ; ,and these things - are worth. more to me now thin What I gave ,you for tfiein.l Willjni come again ?" "Yes; thaViiri;ifl don't go to mothet 500 n .,, : • "Are .you hungry ?" "No,rmaam, II never feel, hungry now.. I tiornetium3 think mother feeds me i when.,leep l though I don.'t remem tier it when am awake. I only know I don't wish'to eat now, since my sister died." "Did yen . feel 'very bad ?" ". I felt , big in my throat, and though t Iva& choked , ; but I didn't cry a bit, though I felt very lonely-at night for a while ; ,but I am glad she is up• there now.", , , Who. told you you were g,oing to "Nobody"; bnt I knoW I am. Per "gb•before Christmas." _ltould , n - ot endure that, and , •tried make blur stay ;.• but he would run and tellfMrs. Brown what lack he had'met! •with. Tile bade me good day again, cheerfully, -- and.went out into the 'cold rain, while I could only say,God be With YOu, my, child." '• He never came agajn, though I looked for him every day. ~At length, about New 'I went to the place he called home: . .11/rs..l3rown,was there, but the little pilgrim's weary, feet were at rest, and never More would -his gentle knock be heard at the' doors of those who, like myself,,forgot the necessary and stern way that often sent about theie wan derers from honie to house ; and their employMent might be more unseemly; to them than annoying .to us: Ladies' Repository. ' THE WIDOW GRAFF, OR WHAT SAVED THE TRAIN. • ' The widow Graff lived in a hollow of, the. Blue Itidge. It was a wild; lonely: spot,,yet a',,railrot,td',,had found it Wut,, and wound itsw4yameng"the mountains and gbtges with its great pissenger and freight traiwi. ' The widoW'G-rall" had' a small cabin and 'Afew= acres of land, andrahef had' three littld,girls. They feared. God, and loved-their ; mother and:tried to.help her.. In the summer they, picked berries, and walked' three miles to the nearest station to sell'them. Here one of the conduc tors oh.the road often met these little HoW did he treat thin ? He spoke kindly to them. When they were very tired' carrying, their heavy haskets .over the rough way in the hot. sun,,.re niembering his, little girls at, homey-he would sometimes take them on the cars,- and set them down near their own eabin door. 116* happy this Jittle ride made theta, and Wow 'heartily' they 'thanked the' `good conductor' for .his' kindness. And do you' iiot ' suppose `it' pleased' 'the poor mother? ' Oh yes, it went to' her heart. And, to , show their: gr4itude, sometimes the , children picked a basket-. ful on purpose forlim, and sometimes their mother sent him a little preient of fruit from her own garden. He took' their gifts, but always paid for thein. Nowl will let the conductor tell'you what happened. "The , winter of 's4' was very cold in that part'of Virginia,"- he says,' ".and the shOw was nearly three feet;deep upon the mountains. , the night-of- the 26th of December it turned , round , Warn:ciand'the 'rain fell in torrents.'" "A terrible rain swept over the mountain topi, and '"almost filled the val= ley with water. The nighe waepitchy dark, but as my train wound its way among.the hills, I had no fears,,because I knew the road bed was all solid rock. - . "It was near midnight when a sharp whistle from. the engine - brought me to my feet. I knew there was danger in .that whistle, mcl-1. sprang to the brakes at once; but the brakemen were at their posts, and soon stopped the train. seized.my lanterit and made my way for ward as soonap, possible. And what a sight met my eyes ! A bright, fire of pine logs Eihinie on the - tra'ck far and near, shoWing a terrible gulf open to receive us. The snowand rain hair torn out therbase of = the momrtaitt, aird _eternity seemed spread out before us. Bat widow Graff and her .children had found it out, and had brought light brush from their home below and built large fires to warn us of our danger. And there had they been for more than two, hours watching beside their beacon of safety. As I went up where the old lady and her children stood, wet through and through, she grasped me by the hand, and said : " Thank God, Mr. Sherbourn, ye stopped you in time. I would have lost my life-before one hair of your head should have been hurt. Oh, I. prayed that we-might stop the train, and, my God, I thank thee !' " The children were crying for joy. I fell On my knees and offered up thanks to an all-wise Being for our safe deliver ance from a terrible death, and called down Blessings. on the good old woman and her children. Near by stood the engineer., firemen ' and brakemen, the tears streaming doivn their weather beaten cheeks. "I made Mrs. Graff and her children gd back to the cars out of the storm and cold ; and telling the passengers the story of ourwonderftd escape, the ladies and gentlemen vied with each other in their thanks and heartfelt gratitude to the courageous woman and her brave little girls. More than . that a purse of four 'hundred and sixty dollars was made up for her on the spot, the willing offer ing of a train of grateful passengers. • "The railroad company bilk her a tie* house, and gave her and' her chil dren a life' pass over the road,. and or dered; all- trains to,stop and let her off whenever she ..wished. So you see a little; kindness ? which cost me „nothing, Saved my hfe'andmy•train from destruc tion.i' 'Oh the 'po'wer of kindness!---Chiids Paper. ' ' ' . A.- SWEET PHILOSOPHY. ~ The celehrated teather, Rabbi Meir, sat• during the whole of one Sabbath day'n the public school, instructing the people. During : -his absence from the house,;his two' sons died, both of them of uncommon beauty, and enlightened in the .His wife bore them to the bed=chanabei laid them upon the mar riage bed, and spread a white. covering Over their bodies. In the evening the Rabbi cime home." She 'reached him' -a' goblet. He'prais ed the Lord at the going out of the Sab bath, drank, and asked : "Where are -•my two sons, that I may give them my blessing? I repeatedly looked ,round the school, and did ndt I. see them there. Where are my sons, that they, too, may 'drink of the cup of blessing ? " They will not be far off," she said, and placed • food before him :that, he might eat. He, was in a gladsome and genial mood„and•when he had said grace after 'the meal, she thus addressed him: " Rabbi, with thy permission I would fa l in propose to thee one question." `"Ask it, then, my love," he 'replied. ' "A few days ago a person' entrusted Some.'jewels to' my custody;' now he 'demands them again. Should sI give them up.?" " This is . - a question," said. Rabbi Meir, " which.nay wife should not hav,e thought it necessary to ask. What I. wouldat thou hesitate or be reluctant to restorelo every one his own ?"r' "No," she' replied; but'' yet I thought it best not to restore them without acquainting thee therewith." ;She then led him to the chamber, and stepping -to the bed, took the white covering from the dead bodies. "Ah, my sons, my sons 1 ." loudly la mented the father. "My sons, the light of my eyes; and the light of my lthderstanding - r ,I was your father, but You *ere 'my teachers in the laiv." The 'mother 'turned -away, and wept bitterly. -.At length she took her hus band by the hand, and said.: Rabbi, didst thou not teach me that we must not be reluctant to reqore that which ,was entrusted to our keeping ? See, the Lord gave, and the' Lord hath taken away, and blessed 'be ``the name of th'e Lord:" - • "3:3lessed'he. the name of the Lord!" echoed Rabbi Meir ; "'and I blessed be His.name for: thy sake, too, for well is it written, Mose hath found, a virtuous wife , hath 9 , greater .treasure than costly pearls. - .She cpeneth. her Month with .w:isdOnt, ind'in her tongue is the law of kindness:" - NEVER AGAIN "Never again !"..so speaks the sudden silence When reund the , hearth gathers each well - • known face, "" • But one is missing, and_no future presence However dear, can fill that vacant place; •Forever-shall that burning thoughtmemain,— : "kileyer, beloved, again I never again !" "ffeVar again !" so—but beyond our hearing— ., Ring‘out far' voices fading up the 'Our ; Never again shall-, earthly care or .sorrow Weigh down the wings that bear , these souls .' on high: Listen, 0 earth! and bear that gToiicius strain, "Never, never again ! never again!" —Adelaide A. Proctor.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers