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.