<Sij£ family ffiirrfe.
THE TOWER OF BOTTREAOX.
The church at Boscastle (or Bottreaux) in
Cornwall has no bells, while the neighboring
tower of Tintagel contains a fine peal of six.
It is said that a peal of bells for Boscastle was
once cast at a foundry on the Continent, and
that the vessel which was bringing them went
down within sight of the church tower. The
Cornish folk nave a legend on this subject,
which has been embodied in the following
stanzas by Mr. Hawker:—
Tintagel bells ring o’er the tide,
The boy leans on his vessel’s side;
He hears that sound, and dreams of home—
Soothe the wild orphan of the foam.
“ Come to thy God in time,”
Thus saith their pealing chime;
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
Come to thy God at last.”
Bat why are Bottreaux’s echoes still?
Her tower stands proudly on the hill;
Yet the strange chough that home hath found,
The lamb lies sleeping on the ground.
“ Come to thy God in time,”
Should be her answering chime;
“ Come to thy God at last,”
Should echo on the blast.
The ship rode down with courses free,
The daughter of a distant sea;
Her sheet was loose, her anchor stored,
The merry Bottreaux bells on board.
“ Come to thy God in time,”
Bung out Tintagel chime;
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
Come to thy God at last.”
The pilot heard his native bells
Hang on the breeze in fitful spells ;
“Thank God,” with reverent brow, he cried,
“We make the Bhore with evening’s tide.”
“ Come to thy God in time,” —
It was his marriage chime;
“ Youth, manhood, old age past,
Come to thy God at last. ’ ’
“Thank God, thou whining knave on land,
Bat thank at sea the steersman’s hand 1”
The captain’s voice above the gale—
“ Thank the good ship and ready sail.”
“ Come to thy God in time,”
Sad grew the boding chime;
“ Come to thy God at last,”
Boomed heavy on the blast.'
Up rose that sea, as if it heard
The mighty Master’s signal word.
What thrills the captain’s whitening lip ?
The death-groans of his sinking ship.
“ Come to thy God in time,”
Swung deep the funeral chime ;
“ Grace, mercy, kindness past,
Come to thy God at last.”
Long did the rescued pilot tell,
When grey hairs o’er his forehead fell,'.
While those around would hear, and weep,
That fearful judgment of the deep.
“Come to thy God in time,”
He read his native chime j
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
Come to thy God at last.”
Still, when the storm of Botlreaux’s waves
Is waking in his weedy caves,
Those bells, that sullen surges hide,
Peal their deep tones beneath the tide.
“ Come to thy God in time,”
Thus said the ocean chime ;
“ Storm, whirlwind, billow past,
Come to thy God at last.”
—Christian Treasury,
THE PIC-NIC IN VIOLET VALLEY.
BY WILLIAM L. WILLIAMS,
One beautiful morning in Septem
ber, Lina Asbby was called to the
front door by a ring of the bell. She
found there two of her schoolmates,
Cordelia Rollins and Mary Hemen
way.
“ Oh, Lina!’’ exclaimed Cordelia, as
soon as she saw "her friends’ forms in
the door-way, “ we are going to have
a little pic-nie in Violet Valley, and
we have come for you to go with us.
There will only he about a dozen of
us, and we are expecting such a nice
time. We are going to meet on Old
town Green, at nine o’clock. Will
you go with us?”
Lina hesitated an instant, and then
answered in a clear, firm voice, “ No, I
cannot go to-day.”
“Why not?” exclaimed both Delia
and Mary at once.
“ Because mother is sick, and I do
not want to leave her all alone to do
the housework,” replied Lina.
“Did she ask you to stay at home
to-day ?.” said Mary.
“Oh no! But I know she does not
feel strong, and as we have not been
able to hire a girl since father died,
she and I have done all the work, 'and
with me to help her she gets tired, and
I certainly would not have her to do
all,” was Lina’s answer.
“ I don’t think it would do any harm
just for one day,” said Miss Rollins;
“my mother is all alone, for our girl
went off last night, and the new one
won’t be here till Monday morning.
To be sure, my mother said I ought to
stay and help her, and look after the
children, but I could not lose the pic
nic on any account and; besides, Perry
Moody will be there.”
A shade of disappointment flitted
across Lina’ face, for she liked Perry
Moody very much; he always told
such funny stories, and he knew so
many pleasant games; and was
almost tempted to ask her mother’s
leave to go; but then her mother’s
anxious face appeared before her, and
she felt that her duty was first to her
mother, then herself, and she declined
accompanying her schoolmates.
“Who was at the door?” asked
Mrs. Ashby, on her daughter’s return
to the breakfast room.
“ Cordelia Rollins and Mary Hemen
way. They wanted me to go with
them to a pic-nic in Violet Valley.”
“ Well, why didn’t you go, my
daughter,” said Mrs. Ashby.
“I thought you did not look very
well to-day, mother, and I did not like
to go and leave you to do all the work
alone,” said Lina, going up to her
mother and imprinting a kiss on her
forehead.
“ You are a good girl, Lina,” said
her mother, “ and I know that I can
never repay you for your constant
love and affection, but you will be re
paid, Lina; such self-sacrificing love
never goes unrewarded.”
“ Repaid! mother,” exclaimed Lina,
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN. THURSDAY. AUGUST 24. 1865.
“why, I was repaid long ago; who
loved me and took care of me when I
was a little helpless baby ? who bought
me all my pretty playthings, and made
all my nice dresses ? who petted and
soothed me when I was in pain, and
contrived all manner of amusements
for me when I was in health ? It was
you, my dear mother, and if I live to
be as old as Methusaleh, I can never
repay you for the love and kindness
you have bestowed upon me.”
As Lina supposed, her mother had
a bad head-ache, and was obliged to
go up stairs and lie down; Lina
worked industriously, and in short
time had everything in order, and
found an opportunity to sit down a
few minutes in the parlor to read.
In the mean while the boys and girls
of the pic-nic had met, according to
agreement, on Oldtown Green, and
walked about three miles to "Violet
Yalley. This was a beautiful spot
among the hills, and so called on ac
count of the profusion of beautiful vio
lets which made their appearance,
early in the spring, imparting delicious
odor to the air, and causing the ground
to appear as if covered with a royal
carpet. It was too late in the season
for violets, but the party found the
place delightful, and soon instituted
games, dances, etc., to make as merry
a time as possible.
Perry Moody was disappointed at
not seeing Lina among the rest. He
inquired of Delia the reason of her
absence. Delia’s reply was, “ Oh, she
is an odd thing, and said she preferred
doing house-work to pic-nicing.”
Now Perry knew Delia’s habits of
prevaricating, and he concluded that
there was some other reason for de
taining Lina at home. So on the first
oceasion he slipped quietly away and
hurried back to. town. He soon was
on the street leading to the Ashby’s,
when a sudden splash startled him,
and looking up, he found that a child
had fallen into a horse-pond near Mr.
Rollins’ house; in an instant he leaped
over the fence and ran rapidly to the
pond. He jumped, in and seized the
child in his arms and carried it in to
its mother; the little thing was insen
sible, and a doctor was sent for, who,
after much exertion, restored it to con
sciousness ; Mrs, Rollins’ gratitude was
very great, and she expressed her
thanks to Perry for saving the life of
her darling boy; she said she was left
all alone in the house, with four young
children to take care of, and all the
housework to do ; and she had asked
Cordelia to stay and help her, but she
preferred going to a pic-nic. Her little
Albert had slipped away slily, and she
was not aware he had gone till Perry
brought him in half drowned in his
arms.
Perry bade them good morning, and
went on his way; but as he went
along, he wondered how such a hand
some girl as Delia Rollins could have
the heart to leave her mother alone,
while she was enjoying herself in the
woods, and wondered if she would
grow any better when she found what
a narrow escape from death her little
brother had had.
Perry soon reached Mrs. Ashby’s
house; Lina was sitting at the window,
and she ran to the door to let him in.
“I am real glad to see you,” said
she, “ but why are you not at the pic
nic ? Delia and Mary told me you
were going to be there ?”
“I have been there,” replied Perry,
“ and I returned to find you and ask
the reason of your non-appearance.”
“Oh, I couldn’t go,” said Lina; “I
had the breakfast things to clear away,
the parlor and front entry to sweep,
some pies to make, and dinner to get.”
“Isn’t your mother at home?” in
quired Perry.
“Yes, she is not very well, and I
could not think of leaving her with all
the care of the house.”
“ That’s the kind of a girl,” thought
Perry, and he could not help contrast
ing her with Delia Rollins. “ Give me
the girl that thinks of her mother be
fore herself, and tries to help her all
she can; such a girl will never lack
friends.” Perry soon found' the time
passing very pleasantly, and Lina was
by no means sorry that she had re
mained at home. She invited his
company to dinner, and he accepted,
and was surprised to find what a nice
dinner Lina could prepare.
Meanwhile the pic-nic party was
enjoying itself finely, with the excep
tion of Delia Rollins. She felt very
uncomfortably; a stone had rolled on
to her toe and made it ache very badly;
she had lost a gold ring from her
finger; she was provoked at Perry
Moody’s absence, for she had boasted
of him as being her particular friend;
and then her conscience was con
tinually smiting her for going off and
leaving her mother to do all the work.
The party started for home early;
and on the way Delia took a by-road
which led round by the Ashby’s house
without passing her own. She stopped
to tell Lina how much she had lost by
not joining them in the morning,
when, to her surprise and discomfiture,
she found Perry Moody there; he in
formed her of the danger her little
brother had been in, and he was
shocked when, instead of showing any
emotion, she exclaimed, “Oh dear,
what a scolding I will get for not stay
ing home and looking after the little
torment.”
A few weeks after this, Perry Moody
went on a long voyage to sea; but
during his absence, Lina Ashby re
ceived a good many letters from him,
and occasionally a package would
come, enclosing some curious work of
nature or art. At last he came home
and married Lina. On his wedding
day, he was heard to remark to a
friend:—“ When I was a boy, I liked
Delia Rollins because she had the love
liest face; but when I grew older, I
liked Lina Ashby because she had the
loveliest heart; the face will fade, but
the heart never does.”— Student, and
Schoolmate.
A REMINISCENCE OF MY PRISON LIFE.
BY MANUEL MATAMOEOS.
In the first months of the third year
of my imprisonment, my health was
much enfeebled. I was often scarcely
able to take a few steps in my cham
ber. I felt, and my friends agreed
with me, that the time of my earthly
removal was not far off, and I rejoiced
in the hope that I would be in the pre
sence of my Saviour. The governor
of the prison, impressed, without doubt,
with the seriousness of my illness,
offered me, in the name of his chief,
the choice of a man among the pri
soners who might perform for me the
duties of a servant.
I accepted the proposal. “Very
well,” he said, “ and who will you
have?” 1 t
“Send me,” I answered, “ the worst
criminal of all.”
There was in prison a young man
of twenty-eight, against whom there
had been a number of charges, for
only two of which he had been con
demned to thirty-five years of penal
servitude. He had been a chief of
brigands. He was a man of savage
energy and of interpid courage, who
had many a time fought with the
police agents sent to capture him, and
in every such combat forced them to
retreat. Such he had been, and was
still, even in prison. Every one sus
pected him—his fellow-prisoners, who
had often felt the effects of his brutal
force, as well as the gaolers. -Such
was the man given to me for my ser
vant., The governor was evidently
well pleased to see him separated' from
the others. Though such was the
case, I received him with joy,, and felt
myself moved with much compassion
for him when I knew his history as it
was told me by the gaoler. On his
part, he undertook the service with
pleasure, for near me his position was
much improved in every respect. He
enjoyed more liberty, and he had the
privilege of receiving his old father,
from time to time in my cell; he had
been before permitted to see him only
at a distance, and in the presence of the
gaolers. By degrees the respect which
the unfortunate man had for me
changed into a lively affection. Often
he said to my mother, ." Ah ! madam,
if the shutting up of the gaolers in
this dungeon would have set your son
at liberty, I would have done it long
ago, as I easily could.” And I am
sure he would have tried it, dangerous
as it was, if I had not turned him
from it. When I knew better his
character and his thoughts; I was con
vinced that, notwithstanding his de
praved and criminal life, he had still
a heart susceptible of noble and gen
erous sentiment. One day he said:—
" If I had not met with vile friends, I
would never have taken to robbery; but,
pushedon by some cowardly fellows who
did not dare to try it themselves alone,
and once drawn into it in this way,
robbery soon became a habit'of my
life. But,” added he, with a look of
satisfaction, “ I never took any thing
from the poor, and I never, either
with my gun or my poignard, drew a
drop of blood. I was a brigand with
out doubt, but a brigand who could
boast of being always honorable.”
Poor unfortunate.
Certain details of his history were
unknown to anybody. I was the only
person to whom he communicated
them, for had they been known, he
certainly would not have escaped capi
tal punishment. Thus I arrived by
degrees at a knowledge of his deeper
feelings.
One day, at the moment when I
was beginning my morning worship,
he was preparing to quit my cell. I
induced him to remain; and he sat
down beside me. I opened the' Bible
at the third chapter of St. John’s Gos-’
pel. During the reading of it his face
brightened up with a happiness that in
creased every moment. When I came
to the 16th, 17th, and 18th verses, I
read slowly and with emphasis; a deep
emotion seemed to agitate him. I
seized my opportunity, and read further
the eighth chapter of the Epistle to the
Romans. We fell upon our knees,
and it was given me to pray with
much fervour and confidence for the
man who had already inspired me
with -so much affection. When we
rose, the tears were pouring down my
companion’s face. I knew not if, in
my whole life, I have ever had a hap
pier moment than this in which I saw
this soul entering on the path of life
eternal. I left him under the sweet
impression, and later' I masked him
only, “What he thought of this that
we had read together—this that God
had spoken to us ?”
“Ah I Don Manuel,” he answered,
“if I had known how to read, I would
have learned to understand all about
these things, and I never would have
been a criminal i It is very beautiful.
I never shall forget it. Ah 1 if I only
knew how to read, I would not be so
unfortunate.”
“Well, do you wish me to teach
you? Do you want to begin now?’
I asked.
“ Yes, yes,” he said, with an expres
sion of the most lively joy, and with
an energy which characterized him.
“ Oh, yes —you are truly a father to
me. Oh, may God reward you!”
“Very well,” I said, " your applica
tion will test the sincerity of your de
sire.”
I gave him money to buy a primer,
and, the .same day, he had his book in
his pocket. We began at once, and from
that moment he took every opportunity
of advancing in his study, taking ad van -
tage of the help of those prisoners who
knew how to read. He employed in
this way most of the day. His pro
gress was rapid, and, at the end of a
month and a half, he read tolerably.
He continued to listen to the reading
of the word of God every morning.
He assisted, with a clearly indicated
joy, in many of the religious and bro
therly meetings which took place in
my prison during my captivity. His
peace gradually became most complete.
He troubled himself no more about
devising means of escape, for he was
in a state of entire submission to the
will of God.
Often I saw him reading, with his
companions, portions of the New Tes
tament. He distributed also the tracts
which I had in my possession; and I
am sure that his prudent and firm con
duct at this time did much good. I
was rigorously prevented from speak
ing with the other prisoners; but he
felt himself happy when he could act
as a means of communication between
them and me, bringing to them a word
of consolation, or some religious book
which he would hand to them, saying:
—"Take this, see what Don Manuel
has sent you in the name of the Lord.”
Thus he made, every day, progress
in the way of life eternal. The increas
ing peace which his soul enjoyed was
written on his countenance.
When asked, " How can you bear
the idea of passing thirty-five years in
the galleys ?”
“Oh, sir,” my poor friend answered,
“ what is thirty-five years in the gal
leys to a man who had been condemned
to an eternity of misery ? Before I
knew Don Manuel, I only thought of
planning my escape, even though it
had cost the sacrifice of life. I was in
despair; but everything is now
changed; I know that Jesus Christ
came to save sinners; that by His
merits my sins are all pardoned; that
my past life can never be a means of
condemnation to me, because Jesus is
my intercessor. Therefore I shall go
to the galleys tranquil and happy, for I
am assured of the salvation that Jesus
has purchased for me, and I rejoice
that He has called me to quit this
wretched career.”
The moment finally arrived when
my poor companion was obliged to
leave the prison for the galleys. He
shed abundant tears on parting with
me. He was, however, able to say
“I regret much leaving you, but
let us be consoled with the thought
that Jesus does not forsake us, and that
the love of God to us is unchangeable.
We shall meet again in His presence;
is it not so ?”
“Yes,” I answered him, “let us be
faithful unto death, and we shall wear
the crown of life.”
Here is a friend whom the Lord
gave me in my confinement, one ot the
consolations that he vouchsafed me.
The remembrance of this man who was
only a vile criminal when he entered
my prison, is now to me dear and pre
cious, Oh ! how touching this mani
festation of the great love of God to
wards sinners. Of every soul where
still exists the dominion of sin, it can
make a temple of the Holy Ghost, and
the criminal, even the most degraded,
can thus he transformed into the im
age of our Divine Saviour.
“ Come unto me,” says the Lord,
" all ye that are weary and heavy
laden, and I will give you rest. lam
meek and lowly in heart.” Oh! yes,
let us go to Him, just as we are, with
the desire of reaching the measure of
the perfect stature of Christ.
HOW TO WIN A CHILD’S HEART.
The heart' of a child is easily won.
It needs no besieging, no formidable
preparation for a grand assault, no
advancing by regular approaches.
You have only to go, in the name of
love, and demand a surrender; and
without parleying, the prize is yours.
“Love begets love.” Anger and
hate beget anger and hate. Smiles
are like musical voices amid the hills,
which come back to those who utter
them with all their original sweetness.
Did you ever smile on a child without
receiving an answering smile? On
the contrary, when you have looked
down coldly, perhaps with a frown,
into the eyes of a child, have you not
seen the reflection of your manner and
expression in the mirror-like face of
the little one ?
Love children, and they will love
you. Let children feel that you care
for them—that you are interested in
all that interests them, that you sym
pathize with them in all their little
sorrows, and rejoice with them in all
their little joys, and that you are
their true and unselfish friend; and in
those feelings you have the key to
their hearts.
One word for you, dear teachers.
You want to be loved by your schol
ars : then love your scholars. If you
do love them, it will not be necessary
for you to say so, in order that they
may be conscious of the fact. Chil
dren read hearts intuitively. They
read your affection for them in every
line of your face, in your moistened
eye, in your unforced smile. They
hear the declaration of it in every tone
of your voice. They have the assu
rance of it in your manner—in your
actions, which “ speak louder than
words.”
Happy are ye who have the love of
the little-ones under your care. It is
a fountain of no common joy to your
own heart, and it gives you an influ
ence over them which can be obtained
in no other way. Thus may you win
those dear young hearts to Jesus.
God help you to do it!— S. S. Treasury.
PARIDISE.
Once in a dream I saw the flowers
That bud and bloom in Paradise;
More fair they are than waking eyes
Have seen in all this world of ours.
And faint the perfume-bearing rose,
And faint the lily on its stem,
And faint the perfect violet
Compared with them.
I heard the songs of Paradise:
Each bird sat singing in his place;
A tender song so full of grace
It soared like incense to the skies.
Each bird sat singing to his mate
Soft cooing notes among the trees:
The nightingale herself were cold
To such as these.
I saw the fourfold River flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a moßsy land
With murmured music grave and low.
It hath refreshment for all thirst,
For fainting spirits strength and rest;
Earth holds not such a draught as this
From east to west.
The Tree of Life stood buddiqg there,
Abundant with its twelvefold fruits;
Eternal sap sustains its roots,
Its shadowing branches fill the air.
Its leaves are healing for the world,
Its fruit the hungry world can feed,
Sweeter than honey to the taste,
And balm indeed.
I saw the gate called Beautiful;
And looked, but scarce could look, within;
I saw the golden streets begin,
And outskirts of the glassy pool.
Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars,
Oh green palm-branches, many-leaved —
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor heart conceived.
I hope to see these things again,
But not as once in dreams by night ;
Too see them with my very sight,
And touch, and handle, and attain:
To have all Heaven beneath my feet
For narrow way that once they trod;
To have my part with all the Saints,
And with my God.
— Englishman’s Magazine.
Jta fifth JMfa.
FAMILIAR TALKS WITH THE CHIL
DREN.
SOMETHING FOR EITTEE BOYS.
If you, my little friend, will stop a
few minutes and read some words in
this column from these small boys, I
think they will interest you. If you
are in a great hurry, and have been
saying to mamma, “I don’t want to
read any now; let me go and play
first,” then you may skip my words;
but just read these boys’ letters, and
see if you don’t think they are more
happy than you.
Here is a letter from a boy in Mas
sachusetts who was a “real wicked
liar,” and when a good many other
-boys were stopping at a meeting, to
have Christians talk and pray with
them, and tell them the way to be
saved, he was so bad as to say to one
who kindly asked him to stay, “/ am
not going to have you inquiring into my
affairs.”
The first night I went to meeting, I went
to hear stories, and laughed at the people as
they wept over their sins. And when the
inquiry-meetings came, I said I was not
going to have you inquiring into my affairs,
and went out. And I went on Wednesday
afternoon, and stopped to the inquiry-meet
ing, and a friend came and asked me if I
loved Jesus. I said I did; and he asked me
how long. I told him about a year. Then
you came’ and asked the same, and I told you
about two days ago. And after I had gone
home I was sorry, and the next time I went
I was serious about my soul. And now
I trust X have found Jesus. Please pray for
me, that I may be kept in the right path.
I am not sure that the boy who
told these lies is a Christian now; but
I do know that Jesus is able to make
just such boys real happy little Chris
tians. And if this little boy, who was
so very wicked, has, as he says,
“found Jesus,” and given himself up
to him, then I know Jesus has re
ceived him and made him what the
Bible calls a “new creature.”
"JUST FOB FUN."
In the same place where this boy
lived, was another boy, whom I weU
remember. I think he must have
been about as bad as the one whose
letter you have just read. This boy,
with three others, came to some chil
dren’s meetings one day, and made so
much trouble, that a gentleman rose
up in the midst of a meeting, in a
large church, and reported them.
Every one looked at them, and aU
were asked to pray for them, that
they might never disturb a meeting
again.
That same evening I heard a num
ber of little boys, who felt that they
had found Jesus, praying most ear
nestly that God would give these bad
boys new hearts, so that they might
love Jesus and work for Him. I
think Jesus answered their prayers,
for a few days after I received this
letter, which you will read below.
Just as I had finished reading it to
a large prayer-meeting, a gentleman
rose and said, " That’s my boy’s letter.
With some other boys, he had a chil
dren’s prayer-meeting at our house
last night, and I can but think that he
is a little Christian. He has made me
a great deal of trouble, but now I ask
the prayers of Christians that he may
lead a different life.” Many were in
tears when he sat down. This boy, I
think, was not more than ten or twelve
years old.
I thought I would write you a few words,
to tell you how I feel. I went to one of
your meetings in the Centre Church, just for
fuD, sat and laughed and played all the time,
not caring for what you said. I went to your
next meeting, and stopped at inquiry-meet
ing to have a talk with some one, just for the
fun of it. Perhaps you remember four boys
in the Baptist 'church that Mr. Mitchell re
ported. I was one of them. Thus I went
on, not.caring for you or any one else, until
at last you requested Christians to pray for
me. My heart was touched, and from that
time I have been striving to love Jesus ; and
now I can safely say, “Jesus is mine.”
With much love, your young friend, *
This little boy, after he began to
love Jesus, was one of those who used
to sing “Jesus is mine.” This sweet
hymn I brought with me across the
stormy Atlantic Ocean. Perhaps you
would like to see it and learn it.
Here it is. You can sing it to the
tnne “ Happy Land.”
NOW I HAVE POUND A FRIEND.
Now I have found a Friend,
Jesus is mine!
His love shall never end,
Jesus is mine!
Though earthly joys decrease,
Though human friendships cease,
Now I have lasting peace,
Jesus is mine!
Though I grow poor and old,
Jesus is mine!
He will my faith uphold,
Jesus is mine!
He shall my wants supply,
His precious blood is nigh,
Naught can my hope destroy,
Jesus is nigh!
When earth shall pass away,
Jesus is mire!
In the great judgment day,
Jesus is mine!
Oh! what a glorious thing,
Then to behold my King,
Withjoyful voice to sing
Jesus is mine!
Farewell, mortality 1
Jesus is mine!
Welcome, eternity!
Jesus is mine!
He my redemption is,
Wisdom and righteousness,
Life, light and happiness,
Jesus is mine!
“ I TOLD HIM I WAS A GREAT SINNER. 1 ’
If you could see the written letter of
this little boy, who lives “ up town ”
in the city of New York, you would
think him very young, for I can
hardly spell out the words. I love to
get such letters as this one below, for
I know they cost a good deal. This
little fellow must have spent a long
time over his letter. I think he asked |
his mother a good many times how to
spell the words, and yet (unless the
printer corrects them, as I hope he
will not) you see some of them are not
spelled quite right. No matter; you
can understand him, I think. The
time was when you and I could not
write any better, so we will make the
best of his little experience.
I don’t know that you will under
stand him when he says, "I didn’t
know what happy is.” He means
that he didn’t know what it was to be
real happy until he found peace in
Jesus. When he was playing with
his little mates, he used, no doubt, to
enjoy himself, and many a time went
home saying, “We have had splendid
sport, mamma.” But if he has really
given himself up to Jesus, he knows
now that there is a happiness beyond
what he ever enjoyed before.
Have you, mv dear boy, found this
new happiness? If not, you never
will until you come to Jesus. Oh,
think of what he suffered that you f
might be happy here and happy when
you die and be happy forever, beyond
the blue sky! What a wretched,
stony heart you must have, not to love
such a precious Saviour.
Let us now see what little “James”
says for himself.
When I first came to theas meatings, I
came to hear storys; then I became more en
gaged in listing to you, and sone found that?
I was a great sinor, ana I cryed for my sines.
I was sitting over in the comer, when Mr.
Taylor came and asked me whatj was crying
for. Then I told him that I was a gret siner.
Then you come and talked to me a great
while. I went home that night with a sad
hart. I prayed alone that night, and I asked
God fore a new hart, and I think he gave it
to me, for I have bean happy ever since. 1
dident know what happy is, but I soon found
out. bo that is all at presant. So good-by.
Your little friend, James.
My dear boy, will you not now go
away alone and kneel down and offer
this little
}
PEATEB.
Lord, teach me how to pray. Like *
this little hoy, whose letter I have;
just read, help me to say, “I am a|
great sinner.” Show me that I have!
as much need as he to weep over my 1
sins. But tears can never wash away I
my black sins. Thy blood, dear I
Jesus, cleanseth from all sin. Oli'l
then, cleanse away my sins. I am#
sorry for them. I wish to forsakel
them and believe in Thee. Holjvj
Spirit, help me to believe in the Lorof
Jesus Christ, that I may be saved. 1 j
cannot change my wicked heart. if
cannot make myself better. But Oh'f
give me'a "new heart” "just now,
and take me and make me thine, (
God, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
Do Good Deeds. —One poi\nd o
gold may be drawn into a wire tha
would extend round the globe. S<
one good deed may be felt through al;
time, and cast its influence into al
eternity. Though done m the firs!
flush of youth, it may gild the las;
hour of a long life, and form the
brightest-spot in it.