'lif fail* eirdr. REPENTANCE AND FAITH. " Repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ." There was a ship, one eve autumnal, onward. Steered o'er an ocean lake ; Steered by some strong hand as if ever sunward; Behind an angry wake, Before there stretched a sea that grew intoner, With silver fire far spread, Up to a hill mist-gloried, like a censer, With smoke encompassed; It seemed as if two seas met brink to brink, A silver flood beyond a lake ofink. There was a soul that eve autumnal, sailing Beyond the earth's dark bars, Toward the land of sunsets never paling, Toward Heaven's sea of stars : Behind there was a wake of billows tossing, Before a glory lay. 0 happy soul 1 with all sail set, just crossing Into the Far-away The gloom, and gleam, the calmness and the strife, Were' death before thee, and behind thee life. And as that ship went up the waters stately, Upon her topmasts tall I saw. two sails, whereof the one was greatly Dark as a funeral pall 3 But oh I the next's pure whiteness who shall utter? • Like a shell-snowy strand, Or when a sunbeam falleth through the shutter On a dead baby's hand; But both alike across the surging sea, Helped to the e haven where the soul would be. And as that soul went onward, sweetly speed ing, Unto its home and light, Repentance made it sorrowful exceeding, • Faith made it wondrous bright; Repentance dark with shadowy recollections, And longings unsufficed, • Faith white and pure with sunniest affections, Full from the face of Christ: But both across the sun-besilvered tide Helped to the haven where the heart would ride. '--.llev. TV. Alexastler [WRITTEN FOR OUR COLUMNS.] THE FUGITIVE SLAVE AND THE BOUND BOY BY THE AUTHOR OF " DAVID WOODBURN, THE MOUNTAIN MISSIONARY." CHAPTER I It was a wild December night, the snow fell thick and fast, the wind, in fitful gusts 'moaned through the bare trees, and whistled round the corners of the house. Our family were gath ered round a bright fire that blazed and crackled up the ample chimney; but a band of anxious hearts: was there, fn. father, we knew, was out in the storm. He had signified his inten tion to return that night, and he never was known to break his promise need lessly. At last, however, we heard the sound of sleigh-bells—a welcome sound indeed ; we knew it was he, for the country then was new, the forest 'near ly unbroken for miles around us, and travellers were rarely seen in the neighborhood. Mother called Pat, our hired man, to take the horse round to the stable, and father presently appeared, bring ing 'something in his arms, wrapped up in a blanket, which he quickly unrolled, and set the contents down on the floor in the shape of a boy of perhaps five years old . . Then turn ing to my sister, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, he said, " Here, Norah, I have brought you a pre sent." Norah said, "Qh, papa, what a fun ny present ; much obliged to you, all the same." Then we all crowded round, asking,, "who is it, and where did you get him ?" But father, as he laid aside his overcoat and wrappings, cried out, "One at a time, children, I can't an swer so many questions all at once; get something for this famishing child, ,and give me a cup of tea, and then you shall hear all about it." Meanwhile the little waif thus unac countably blown among us, stood in the centre of the room, looking from one to another in silent wonder, He was miserably clad, and looked, indeed, half famished. Norah brought him a bowl of bread and milk, which he devoured in a very short time. "My little man," said she, when he had finished his meal, "what is your name." Name's Jake," was the quick rejoin der, "and I aint nobody's little man." Poor Jake's story ran on this wise, as father related it to us all there as sembled. His mother was a poor, helpless imbecile, so weak in her mind that she was unfit to provide for her own wants, and was conse quently on the pauper list.. As there was no poor-house in the township, the paupers were farmed out by the overseers to the lowest bidder—that is, whoever would maintain a pauper at the cheapest rate, was the anccessful competitor for the prize. This was the way Betsy Morrow, the mother of Jake, was supported. Betsy did not like her boarding house, and took frequent opportuni ties of running away. At such times, her favorite resort was a large hollow tree, and here she and Jake had a home thata suited their tastes better than the one assigned them by the cold charity of the world; and while the weather continued warm, they did very well, for the farmers' wives around never refused a morsel of food to poor Betsy and her little one. When the winter came, however, Betsy fared worse; no doubt she was Oftenel frightened from the home as signed her, by harsh treatment. , On the evening in question, father had stopped at a Colonel Warner's, in the neighborhood. While there, the overseer called to enquire if they had seen anything of Betsy, stating that THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1865. she had again gone off with her child, and might perish with the cold. Short ly after that, father left, to return home. As he drove through the thick wood, he thought he heard groans. Getting out of his sleigh, he waded through the snow' in the direction of the sound, and presently reached a hollow tree, where he found poor Bet sy, apparently in a dying condition, with little Jake sitting by her side, crying most piteously. He took up the child, and wrapping him in the buffalo robe, carried him to the sleigh, and then drove rapidly to nearest house, where he procured as sistance made remove the mother. She was made as comfortable as circum stances would admit, but she died that night ; and father brought the child home, and gave him to Norah to train. She accepted the gift, undertook the allotted task, and though Jake was neither a pretty or an engaging child, being dull, and by no -means red tempered, she never once flagged in her labor of lave. He was gener ally docile and affectionate; at least he loved Norah, who never failed him in any emergency. When, on occasions s he considered himself badly treated. by the other children of the family, his unvarying cry was, "Now I'll jist go and tell Miss Norah." Poor little outcast ! no doubt he often enough had reasott for the big tears that were so ready to run down his chubby cheeks ; for we were all young then, except Norah, who had attained the ripe age of‘eighteen. I remember well, the first Sabbath evening after Vake was domiciled in our household. , We were all assem bled in the sitting-room, to recite the Shorter Catechism, a duty that was never omitted in our family, except for very pressing reasops. After the Catechism, with appropriate remarks and explanations, was disposed of, father turned to Jake, saying, " Well, my child, what has Miss Norah taught you ?" " Please sir, I can say, Our Father, and who made me, and who was the first man." " Very well, now, who was the first man?" "Why, Adam." And who was the first:woman?" Upon this, Jake hesitated a little,— in a moment however, he brightened up, and answered promptly, " Why, Missus Adam." This reply had an unfortunate effect on the risible facultie4 of the younger members of the circle, causing quite a chuckle among the boys, and a titter among the girls; but Jake defended his position stoutly,• saying, with . a shake of his head, "You needn't laugh, Mister Fred, nor you neither, Miss Joanna, for if Adam's name is Adam, his wife must be Missus Adam." Little Lottie then opened her blue eyes to an uncommon extent, and re marked, " Why, Jake, you know Adam is dead long ago, and. so is his wife." But Jake denied this fact, declaring that Adam was still alive, for he had seen him.often; and his wife too. One of the boys present was en gaged in b., printing. office at the time, and he wrote out this little dialogue, and it appeared in the columns of the village newspaper that week. This, ..I believe, was the veritable origin of that famous saying, that has crept about, in one form or another, from year to year, ever since. Jake increased in stature and use fulness as the years rolled on. He loOked up to my sister Norah with a feeling that I think amounted almost to adoration. Her word was a law tq, him in all his ways. With unwearied patience, she taught him to read and write; but she never succeeded in im pressing even the first principles of arithmetic on his mind. Once, she bribed,him, by. the promise of a bright red pocket-handkerchief, to commit two columns of the multiplication table to memory. Jake succeedekand won the prize; but next day the whole was forgotten, and he could not tell how many three times three make. When he was about ten years old, the great question of Abolition was exciting the country pretty generally; people were then, as they have been since, greatly divided in opinion, and families differed on the topic then just as, they have always done. My father stoutly ignored the movement, forbid ding his family to attend the Abolition lectures, which were ,indeed ' often scenes of riot and disorder. How well I remember him, as, sit ting in his great arm-chair, he often spoke to us on the subject, saying words to this effect: "Children, be ware of these things; depend upon it, they are the harbingers of a civil war that will rend this country and deluge it with blood. I will not live to see it, but you will, probably." At such times Norah stood • up stoutly for the slave, and spared no words in condemning the whole sys tem ; and as for the rendition of slaves, her whole soul revolted from such in iquity, and then she would say : "Now, papa, would you render up a fugitive who had sought shelter with you ?" This was a poser, for the whole family knew that Jake had been sent, time and again, with bags full of bread and bacon to the deserted huts of the char coal-burners, and they all knew that there were no charcoal-burners there to eat the said bread and . bacon, but we all shrewdly suspected that some fugitive slaves were hidden in those deserted huts. {TO BE CONTINUED.] LITTLE EVA'S PRAYER. One day a missionary's wife, while walking oat, encountered a little girl in a dirty lane gleaning among the filth of the gutter for broken meat and rags. The poOr child was very rag ged, and her face was sad with an ex pression of loneliness and neglect. The lady approached her with kind words, and held out her hand, which was eagerly taken by the thin, bony fin gers of little Eva. She had seldom heard the voice of kindness, and it went right down to her little aching heart. She was taken to the mission house, washed, fed, and arrayed in a complete suit of nice clothes. There she found a great company of children, all looking happy and neat, who a short time before yere as neglected and uncared for as herself. Little Eva was amazed and delighted. " 0 how different," she thought. "is this place from my own dirty, dreary home!" Little Eva was asked if she would like to come and be one of the mission school. She said : " Yes, if my parents will give their consent." So she hurried home with a full heart to tell her parents of all Ishe had seen and heard. They hardly knew their daughter in her nice clean dress, and with such a changed expression of countenance. Her paren were both intemperate and poor. ey had very little use for Eva at h e, and they soon gave their consent,pd she became a member of the inission school. Eva improved very fast, add soon became au interesting and beloved scholar. She was taught the !Way to the Saviour, and delighted in prayer and praise. She became very pxious and earnest for the conversion ',of her parents. She read to them fiAm the Bible and religious books, and both at last became, deeply convicted f sin. One night, when the famil had re tired, the father was deeply e ercised in view of his sins. He groped in spirit, and inquired earnestly, € What. shall Ido to be saved?" lie ' rose, dressed himself, and tried to pray. The heavens seemed like brass over his head. His wife could give no con solatory advice. So he calledt aloud upon God alone and in the dtrkness to pardon his sins, but 'he i fotpid no comfort. Now the thought/ struck him: , " God will h,ectir Eva , if he' will not hear me. She is good , and I ail. a poor, wicked sinner." Little Eva was called. She came down in her night clothes, and, kneel ing by the side of her father, clasped her hands, and prayed : "0, God, won't you convert my father? He has been a very wicked man, but he is so sorry for it now. 0, God, do convert my poor fther !" God heard the little darling'g prayer. He did convert her father, who found peace in believing. Very soon, too, her mother became a Christian and they were all united in the bonds of Christian unity and love. Not long after, littld" Eva sickened and died. But she was so happy in view of death, and a home with God and the bright angels, that every one said, "It is well with the child." Not far from the city of Pittsburgh, out a little way in the country, there is a little grave. The grass is green upon it, the bright houstonias of Spring open their little pink blossoms all around it ; the birds sing their sweet est songs there, and the plain white headstone has the inscription—"EvA. " A AIOTHER'S INFLUENCE. Dropping into a Conference', Meet ing, says a 'writer in one of Our ex changes, I was very much interested in the remarks of a good ruling elder, a veteran of forty years' servile. In illustration of the topic that \\las up, " Mother's Influence, he relatbd the following incident : " Many years ago," said he, t' - while ill residing in Vermont, a family 'ved very near me, in which were two little boys. They were very poory and the boys were sometimes dirty and raged, and apparently neglected. The father was dissipated, but the godly Mother trained them as best she could for use fulness and duty. Her utmost e i Worts could not keep them decently clothed or regularly in school. .1 " I attended the late Gem-- 1 Arof bten e • ne ate enera_ _ Bern bly at Pittsburg, and there listened to a returned foreign missionary. I learned his name, made his acquain tance ; and what was my surprise and astonishment to find that, in the person of the missionary, I beheld one of the ragged boys who, more than forty years ago, was wont to play at my door on the green hill-sides of Ver mont ! He had worked his way through college and seminary by his own exertions, and had been some years in the foreign field. His brother had done the same, and is now a,mis sionary in Africa." So much for a Christian mother's influence. " I have a son in Congress," said the speaker, "but I would rather that son would be like one of these—a self-reliant, humble, godly man—than a prayerless man, and President of the United States." LEISURE. Sweet is the leisure of the bird ; She craves no time for work deferred : Her wings are not to aching stirred Providing for her helpless ones. Fair is the leisure of the wheat All night the damps about it fleet; All day it basketh in the heat, And grows, and whispers orisons. Grand is the leisure of the earth; She gives her happy myriads birth, And after harvest fears no dearth, But goes to sleep in snow-wreaths dim Dread is the leisure up above The while He sits whose name is Love, And waits, as Noah did, for the dove, To wit if she would fly to him. He waits for us, while, houseless things, We beat about with bruised wings On the dark floods and water-springs, The ruined world, the desolate sea ; With open windows from the prime All night, all day, He waits sublime, Until the fulness of the, time Decreed from His eternity. Where is our leisure ?—Give us rest. Where is the quiet we possessed? We must have had it once—were blest With peace whose phantoms yet entice. Sorely the mother of mankind Longed for the garden left behind; For we still prove some yearnings blind Inherited from Paradise. JEAN IFGELow WHO DID IT ? " I have just dropped in, Mrs. Thompson, to get your receipt for mak ing currant wine, for I think that yours is the test I have tasted anywhere, and I want to make some just like it." " I believe my wine is considered pretty good, Mrs. Lee; but I have three kinds of it, with some little dif ference in the manner of making. You must try each kind, and select which you like best." With housewifely pride, Mrs. Thomp son then displayed to her visitor vari ous samples of her skill in the manu facture of domestic wine, giving her, at the same time, the necessary instruc tions for a novice in the art. Not much heed was paid by either of the ladies to little Hugh Lee, a child of some six summers, who, following his mother's steps, at first from a spirit of imitation, but at last with evident relish, drained every glass from which his mother had sipped. Mrs. Lee pro fited by the instructions she received, and soon became as noted as her neigh bor for the excellence of her home made wine. Not unfrequently, and invariably when guests were entertain ed, was this beverage produced, nor was it strange, that a liking for it soon developed itself in little Hugh. " Come, boy's it's the Fourth of July ; let us have a good time of it. We will go down to Connor's Cove, where we will be by ourselves. We will have a shooting match, there is good. fishing there, we can take a nice swim, and I have a bottle of prime whiskey, real old and mellow. What do you say ?" The speaker was our friend Hugh, now a fine, manly boy of sixteen, gen erous in his impulses, and a great fa vorite with all his companions. " I like it very well, Hugh," said W ill Simpson,. " all but the whiskey. I don't see any use in that. We can have a real good time without any help from the .bottle at all." "But, Will, the old folks will be drinking their toasts to-day. Even the ladies, many of them, will. join in a glass of wine. Let us act like men, and be patriotic too." Will, however, could not feel the force of these arguments, and after no• small discussion, the company of boys divided, some going with Will to the celebration at the church, where law yer Stevens made a grand speech, after which there was a nice collation in the adjoining grove. The remain der of the boys followed Hugh to Con nor's Cove, a secluded spot, where, be fore the day was over, some of them had taken their first lessons in the manly vice, as they deemed it, of ine briation. * .* Ten years have passsed. A ,happy company has gathered to do honor to the union for life of the village beauty, Susan Templeton, and the young mer chant, Hugh Lee. Many friends anti cipated for the youthful pair a pros perous future, yet some of the older ones forboded ill from the strong incli nation which Hugh had manifested to indulge with boon companions in a social glass, so that even upon this occasion, which appealed so power fully to his better nature, he could not conceal the feverish thirst'with which he grasped the cup. Nor were there wanting whispers that already, in sev eral instances, he had tarried too long at the wine—too long for his own self respect—too long for the confidence of those whose esteem was worth more to him than all his stock in trade. Ffteen years, and what a change has passed, like a dark cloud, over the for tunes of Hugh and Susan Lee! Down ward and still downward Hugh's path had been. Business and credit gradu ally forsook the once prosperous young merchant, when friends and customers found that he was not a man to be re lied upon, and that frequently he was incompetent, from the effects of drink, for the transaction of business. Why, alas! was there no friendly band stretched out to draw him from the perilous brink on which he stood ? —no friendly voice to warn him of the danger, ere it should be forever too late ? Reader, would your hand, your voice, have been - enlisted in his behalf.? Then•look around you and see how many young men there are, walking in your very sight the same dangerous path on which poor Hugh had entered. Can you do nothing to save them ? It was a dark, wintry night when a shivering, half-clad little girl edged her way up to the bar of the hard featured, h:-.rd-hearted rumseller, to implore him to sell her father no more of that poison which was making his home so wretched. " Here, Lee, is this your child ? walk her off, if she is," was the brutal answer ; and the miserable father had so far forgotten the kindly heart that -once beat in his bosom, as to raise his hand and drive away, with cruel blows, the child that had presumed to pl ea d for him. Out into the cold, poor, hun gry, ragged Nelly ; back to the hovel that formed the drunkard's home. What matters it that wive§ should weep, and children starve, and homes once the abodes of happiness ' become the haunts of despair, if but the pockets of the whiskey-sellei.s be filled with the money coined out of tears and blood ! The winter had not yet passed when one morning the lifeless body of Hugh Lee was found, where he had fallen and perished, as he was staggering home through the drifting snow from the shop where he had bartered away for 'rum his life, and all that makes life desirable, and all that sheds hope upon the future that lies beyond the grave. The happy child—the light-hearted boy—the promising young merchant —the husband—the father—the pil grim to eternity—how sad the end— how common the story. Can oar voices—our influence—our example— help to stay the dreadful ruin 7—Pres byterian Banner. Many years ago Mr. S—, a.good missionary who had left home and friends and gone out to the far West to tell the poor Indians of the love of Jesus, sat in his log-cabin on a cold winter's day. He was not quite alone, for his wife and the wife of a btother missionary were with him. The ladies were very sad ; tears .would fill their eyes as they looked first at the mission ary and then at the little table where their scanty breakfast had just been set out. There was one small piece of meat and three potatoes ; that was all ; no bread nor cakes.; no flour in the barrel to make any ; nothing more in the louse to eat, and no place to go to buy food ; for they were out in the wilderness, very far from any town, and with no neighbors but the Indians, who were even poorer than themselves. There was no game either, for the Indians had hunted the ground for miles all round them over and over again ; and even if there had been, Mr. S— had no gun, as the other missionary had taken it and the canoe, 'and gone many miles a way to a fort to try to get some provisions to keep them from starving; but they knew he could not return soon; they did not expect him for ten days ; and that small piece of meat and the three pota toes were. all that these three people had to live upon until he came back. Do you wonder that the ladies were sad and troubled? that their eyes were filled with tears as they looked at Mr. S-7 No, it was not strange: you and I would probably have felt just as they did: and yet they ought not to have been troubled, for the Lord has promised to provide for his people. But there were no ..tears in the good missionary's eyes, because he remem bered what God had said, and believed it ; they had been asking their heaven ly Father to help them out of their trouble, 'and he believed that their prayers had been heard and would be answered. This was faith, and it made him cheerful and happy in the midst of their poverty and distress. . " Trust in the Lord, and do good ; so shalt thou dwell in the land and verily thou shalt be fed ;' " he repeat ed in a joyful, exultant tone; and.with a pleasant smile invited his Com panions to sit down and eat. "Don't be afraid," he said, " that is God's own promise, and. he will be sure to fulfill it. We shall not be left to starve." " No," replied the ladies, "we will not eat; there is not enough for us all, and you must eat it that you may have strength for your work ; you are more needed than we." C',IME:I "No, no," said Mr. S—, "the number of potatoes shows how the food is to be divided, we will each take one, and I will cut the meat into three pieces." He did so, and they began to eat. They had not yet finished when the outer door opened, and the first thing they saw was a quarter of venison, which you know is the flesh of a deer, coming in, followed by an Indian who held it in his hand. "I come to feed you," he said in his native tongue. Ah! now the tears came from the good missionary's eyes, as he first praised the 'Lord for his good ness , and then thanked the kind Indian, who was much astonished to hear how near starvation they had been. “ Ah,” sai.d. he, "now I know why, when I killed my deer seven miles away, something said to me, go quickly and carry a piece to the mis sionary.' This is quite a true story, dear chil dren, for I heard it not very long ago from the good missionary's own lips ; and he told me that he had always found God faithful to his promises. Is it not a blessed thing to have such a THE LORD WILL PROVIDE. friend always able and ready to help us in every time of need Do you not want such a friend, dear child ? Ah !he wants to be your friend. He invites you to come and put your trust in him. He is waiting to receive you. Will you not come and give your heart to Jesus, and trust him to save your soul, and to provide you with all you need to make you happy here and hereafter ?_s. S. Visitor. THE LESSONS OF THE LEAVES. How do the leaves grow In spring upoothett-s ? Oh, the sap swells up - with a dro 11, And that is life to them. What do the leaves do Through the long summer hours? Oh, they make a home for the wandering birds, A-tlcl shelter the wild flowers. How do the leaves fade Beneath the Atunah blast? Oh, fairer they grow before they die Their brightest is their last. We are like leaves, too,. 0 children, Weak and small; God knows each leaf of the forest shade He knows you eaelt and all. . - 'Neeri.ts part s aleaf fall: until nc,: God gives us grace like sap. and then Some work to every one. You must grow old, too. Beneath the autumn sky; But lovelier and brighter your lives may grow, Like leaves before they die. Brighter with kind deeds, With love to others given Till the leaf falls off from the autumn tree, And the spiritis in heaven. A DOG'S FEELINGS. Many people laugh at the idea of being careful of 'a dog's feelings, as if it were the height of absurdity ; and yet it is a fact that some dogs are as exquisitely sensitive to pain, shame, and mortification, as any human being. See, when a dog is spoken harshly to, what a universal droop seems to come over him. His head and ears sink, his tail drops and slinks between his legs, and his whole air seems to say, " I wish I could sink into the earth to hide my self." Prince's young master, without knowing it, was the means of inflict ing a most terrible mortification on him at one time. It was very hot weather, and Prince, being a shaggy dog, lay panting, and lolling his tongue out, apparently suffering from the heat. "1. declare," said young Master George, " I do believe Prince would be more comfortable for being sheared." And'to forthirith he took him and be gan divesting him of his 'coat. Prince took it all very obediently ; but when he appeared with his unusual attire, every one saluted him with roars of laughter, and Prince was dreadfully mortified. He broke away from his master, and scampered off home at a desperate pace, ran down' cellar and disappeared from view. His young master was quite distressed tho Prince took the matter so to heart ; he fol lowed him in vain, calling, "Prince! Prince!" No Prince -appeared. He lighted, a candle, and searched the cel lar, and found the poor creature cow ering away in the darkest nook under the stairs. Prince was not tq be com forted; he slunk deeper a i nd deeper into the darkness, and crouched on the ground when he . saw hienlaster, and. fora long time refused even to take food. The family all visited and con doled with him, and finally his sorrows were somewhat abated; but hie would not be persuaded to leave the cellar for nearly a week. Perhaps by that time he indulged the hope that his hair was beginning to grow again, and all were careful not to destroy the illusion by any jests or comments on his appear ance.--lfrs. Stowe PORTP I IIIT OF CHIEF JUSTICE CHASE. The Evening Post relates the follow ing amusing incident:—During the re cent southern tour of Chief Justice Chase, formerly gecretary of the Trea sury, while Key West, he visited a somewhat noted iwro. • This man is said to be the strongest person in all Florida, and he possesses strength of dharacter as well as of body. He was formerly a slave in.-Maryfand, but by overwork purchased his freedom 'while yet young, removed to Key West, where he prospered, and is now the owner of a large plantation. He very politely conducted Mr. Chase over his grounds, pointing out the various fruit trees, etc., and was himself greatly pleased with his visitor. Finally, when they returned to the house and were seated on the verandah, the col ored man said he would like very much to have a portrait of his guest. Mr. Chase, having no photograph, took from his pocket a one-dollar greenback and -handed it to him. The negro looked first at the picture on the'end, then at Mr. Chase, and at last in his surprise broke out, " Why, you's Old Greenbacks hisself, isn't you ?" Mr. Chase grea,tly enjoyed the' incident, and the negro equally so, for he added, "If I lives fifty years, I shall always remember sure, just how you anti I was sitting together.", No HIDING PLACE.—W hen we have done wrong and want to conceal the fault, the very way we take to hide it often leads to detection. We must go where God is not, if we would be safe -from detection; but since God is in every place, we may be sure our sin, however seeret it may.be, will find us out.
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