64E autilg
"BLESSED TO GIVE."
It is more blessed to give than to receive.".'
—ACTS : 35.
" The love of money is the root of all evil."
-1 TIM. vi : 10.
"Is not money what we make it? Dust in
the miser's chests ; canker in the proud man's
heart ; but golden sunbeams, streams of bles
sing earned by a child's labor and comforting
a parent's heart, or lovingly poured from rich
men's hands into poor men's homes.—Chroni
cles of the Schoenberg-Gotta Family.
The kingly sun gives forth his rays,
•
Asks no return, demands no praise,
But wraps us in strong arms of life,
And says distinct, through human strife :
"If thou wouldst truly, nobly live, -
Give—ever give."
The rustic flower, upspringing bright,
And answering back the regal light,
Fills all the air with fragrant breath,
And writes in myriad hues beneath :
" If thou wouldst gaily, gladly live,
Give—ever give."
The merchant rain. which carries on
Rich commerce 'twixt the earth and sun;
The autumn mist ; the springtide shower—
All whisper soft to seed and flower :
"We know no other life to live
But this—we give."
Suggestive warnings crowd the earth;
Glad sounds of labor, songs of mirth,
From creatures both of field and air;
Who, whilst they take their rightful share,
Still truly chant: "We chiefly live
To give—to give."
0 man ! the gem and crown of all,
Take thou this lesson : Heed the call
Of these less gifted creatures near; -
The rather that Christ's voice most dear
Once said, whilst here He deigned to live
" Blessed to give."
—London Good Words
THE GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY.
A STORY TOLD TO A CHILD
BY JEAN ]NGELOW
Not many things have happened to
me in the course of my life which
can be called events. But one great
event, as I then thought it, happened
when I was eight years old. On that
birthday I first possessed a piece of
gold.
How well I remember the occasion!
I had a holiday, and was reading
aloud to my mother. The book was
the "Life of Howard, the philanthro:
pist." I was interested in it, though
the style was considerably above my
comprehension; at last I came to the
following sentence, which I could
make nothing of : "He could not let
slip such a golden opportunity for do
ing good."
"What is a golden opportunity ?" I
inquired.
"It means a very good opportunity."
"But, mamma, why do they call it
golden?"
My mamma smiled, and said it was
a figurative expression; "Gold is very
valuable, and very uncommon ; this
opportunity was a very valuable and.
uncommon one; we can express that
in one word, by calling it a golden
opportunity."
I pondered upon the information
for some time, and then made a reply
to the effect, that all the golden oppor
tunities seemed to happen to very rich
people ; 'or people who lived a long
time ago ; or else to great men, whose
lives we can read in books—very
great men, such as Wilberforce and
Howard; but they never happened to
read people, whom we could see every
day, nor to children.
" To children like you, Orris?" said
my mother, " why, what kind of a
golden opportunity are you wishing
for just now?"
My reply was childish enough.
"If I were a great man •I should
like to sail after the slave ships, fight
them, and`take back the poor slaves to
their own country. Or I should like
to do something like what Quintus
Curtius did. Not exactly like that ;
because you know, mamma, if I were
to jump into a gulf, that would not
really make it close."
" No," said my mother, " it . would
" And besides," I reasoned, "if it
had closed, I should never have known
of the good I had done, because I
should have been killed."
"Certainly," said my mother; I saw
my mother smile, and thinking it was
at the folly of my last wish, hastened
-to bring forward a wiser one.
" I think I should like to be a great
lady, and then if there had been a bad
harvest, and all the poor people on my
lord's land were nearly starving,l
should like to come down to thm
with a purse full of money, and divide
it among them. But you see, mamma,
I have no golden opportunities."
" My dear, we all have some oppor
tunities for doing good, and they are
golden, or not, according to the use we
make of them."
" But, mamma, we cannot get peo
ple released out of prison, as Howard
did."
" No ; but sometimes, by instructing
them in their duty, by providing them
with work, so that they shall earn
bread enough, and not be tempted and
driven by hunger to steal, we can
prevent some people from being ever
put in prison."
My mother continued to explain
hat those who really desired to do
good, never wanted opportunities, and
that the difference between Howard
and other people was more in perse
verance and earnestness than in cir
cumstances. But I do not profess to
remember much of what she said ; I
only know that, very shortly, she
took me into my grandfather's study,
and, sitting down, began busily to
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN. THURSDAY
mend a heap of pens which lay beside
him on the table.
He was correcting proof-sheets, and,
knowing that I must not talk, I stood
awhile, very quietly watching him.
Presently I saw him mark out a
letter in the page, make a long stroke
in the margin, and write a letter d be
side it.
Curiosity was too much for my pru
dence; I could not help saying—
" Grandpa, what did you write that
letter d for ?"
"There was a letter to much in the
word, child," he replied; I spell pota
toes' with only one p, and I want the
printer to put out the second."
" Then d stands for don't, I suppose?"
was my next observation ; . "it means
don't put it in ?"
"Yes, child, yes—something like
that."
If it_ had not been my birthday, I
should not have had courage to inter
rupt him again. "But, grandpapa, ' do'
begins with d, so how is the printer to
know whether you mean ' do,' or
'don't?'"
My grandfather said " pshaw !" turn
ed short round upon my mother, and
asked her if she had heard what I said.
My mother admitted that it was a
childish observation.
" Childish !" repeated my grandfa
ther, " childish. She'll never be any
thing but a child—never.; she has no
reasoning faculties at all." When my
grandfather was displeased with me,
he never scolded me for the fault of
the moment, but inveighed against
me in the piece, as a draper would say.
" Did you ever talk nonsense at her
age—ever play with a penny doll, and
sing to a kitten? I should think not."
" I .was of a very different disposi
tion," said my mother, gently.
"Aye," said the old man, "that you
were. Why, I wouldn't trust this
child as I trusted you, for the world;
you were quite a little woman, could
pay bills, or take charge of keys; but
this child, has no discretion—no head
piece. She says things that are wide
of the mark. She's—well, my dear,
I didn't mean to vex you--:--she's a
nice child enough, but, bless me, she
never thinks, and. never reasons about
anything."
He was mistaken. I was thinking
and reasoning at that moment. I was
thinking how delightful it would be if
I might have the cellar keys, and all
the other k.eys, hanging to my side, so
that every one might see that I was
trusted with them ; and I was reason
ing that perhaps my mother had be
haved like a little woman because she
was treated like one.
"My dear, I did not mean that she
was worse than many other children,"
repeated my grandmother ; " come
here, child, and I'll kiss you."
My mother pleaded by way of
apology for me—" She has a very good
memory."
" Memory ! aye, there's another dis
advantage. She remembers every
thing; she's a mere parrot. Why,
when you, at her age, wanted a pun
ishment, if I set you twenty lines of
poetry, they'd keep you quiet for an
hour. Set this child eighty—knows
'em directly, and there's time wasted
in hearing her say 'em into the bar
gain."
"I hope she will become more
thoughtful as she grows older," said
my mother, gently.
" I hope she will—there's room for
improvement. Come and sit on my
knee, child. So this is your birth-day.
Well, I suppose,l must give you some
present or other. Leave the child
with me, my dear, take care of her.
But I won't detain you, for the proofs
are all ready. Open the door for your
mother, Orris. Ah 1 you'll never be
anything like her—never."
I did as he desired, and then my
grandfather, looking at me with comi
cal gravity, took out a leathern purse,
and dived with his fingers among the
contents. " When I was a little boy,
as old as you, nobody gave me any
money."
Encouraged by his returning good
humor, I drew closer, and peeped into
the purse. There were as many as six
or eight sovereigns in it. I thought
what a rich man my grandfather was,
and when he took out a small coin and
laid it on my palm, I could scarcely
believe it was for me.
" Do you know what that is child ?"
" A half-sovereign, grandpapa."
" Well, do you think you could
spend it ?"
"0 yes, grandpapa."
" 0 yes!' and. she opens her eyes 1
" Ah, child, child ! that money was
worth ten shillings when it was in my
purse, and I wouldn't give sixpence
for anything it will buy now it has
touched your little fingers."
"Did you give it me to spend ex
actly as I like, grandpapa ?"
" To be sure, child,—there, take it,
—it's worth nothing to you, my dear."
" Nothing to me I The half-sovereign
worth nothing to me ! why, grand
papa ?"
"Nothing worth mentioning; you
have no real wants; you have clothes,
food, and shelter, without this half
sovereign."
" 0, yes ; but, grandpapa, I think it
must be worth ten times as much to
me as to you ; I have only this one,
and you have quantities; I shouldn't
wonder if you have thirty or forty
half-sovereigns, and a great many
shillings and half-crowns, to spend
every year."
"I shouldn't wonder!"
" And I have only one. I can't
think, grandpapa, what you do with
all your money ; if I had it I would
buy so many delightful things with
it.'
"'No doubt ! kaleidoscopes, and
magic lanterns, and all sorts of trash;
but, unfortunately, you have not got it:
you have only one half-sovereign to
throw away."
"But perhaps I shall not throw it
away ; perhaps I shall try to do some
good withiit."
"Do some good with it I Bless you,
my dear, if you do but try to do some
good with it, I shall not call it thrown
away."
I then related what I had been read
ing, and had nearly concluded, when
the housemaid came in. She laid a
crumpled piece of paper by the desk,
and with a shilling and a penny, Say
ing, " there's the change, sir, out of
your.shoemaker's bill."
My grandfather took it up, looked
at it, and remarked that the shilling
was a new one. Then. with a _gene
rosity which I am really at a loss to
account for, he actually, and on the
spot, gave me both the shilling . and
the penny.
There they lay in the palm of my
hand, gold, silver, and copper ; he
then gave me another kiss and abrupt
ly dismissed me, saying that he had
more writing to do ; and I walked
along the little passage with an exulta
tion of heart that a queen might have
envied, to show this unheard-of wealth
to my mother.
I remember laying the three coins
upon a little table, and- dancing round
it, singing, " There's a golden oppor
tunity ! and there's a silver opportuni
ty ! and there's a copper opportunity !"
and having continued this exercise till
I. was quite tired, I 'spent the rest of
the morning in making three little
silk bags, one for each of them, previ
ously rubbing the penny with sand
paper, to make it bright. and clean.
Visions and dreams floated through
my brain as to the good I was to do
with this property. They were vain
glorious, but not selfish, but they were
none of them fulfilled, and need not be
recorded.
(TO CONTINUED.)
ORIGINAL FABLES.
1.-LOOK TO THE ROOT OF THE FAMILY
" Gentlemen," said old Tea kettle,
that lay in a corner of a shed in which
some worn-out locomotives had been
stowed away ; " gentlemen, I am sorry
to see you in this place ; I wasn't
brought here till I had more than once
lost my spout and handle, and been
patched and soldered till very little of
my original was left. I conclude,
therefore, that, like me, you have seen
your best days, and are now to be laid
aside as useless."
The Locomotivos frowned at one
another, but didn't answer.
" Well, gentlemen and brothers,"
cried the Kettle again, " don't be down
hearted ; we have played busy and
useful parts in our day, and may com
fort ourselves now in thinking over
the things we have respectively achiev
ed. As for me, the remembrance of
the domestic delight and refreshment
that I have been the means of afford
ing, affects me deeply."
"What is that little old tin whist
ling about up in the corner ?" asked
one of the LocomotiVes of his com
panion ; where are his brothers?"
" Hey-day ! is that it ?" cried the'
Kettle, all alive with indignation ; " so!
you don't own the relationship ? Let
me tell you, with all your pitiful pride,
that though you won't own me• as a
brother, I am father and mother to
you; for who would ever have heard
ofsteam-engine if it hadn't been for a
tea-kettle ?"
IL-LOOK UP AS WELL AS D9WN
".0 father ! 0 mother ! the moon is
drowned; she is indeed ; we have seen
her lying trembling in the lake," cried
the owlets, bustling back to the tower,
where their parents sat among the ivy.
" Children," said the old birds, " you
looked down, and saw the image in' he
lake ; if you had looked up, you would
have seen the moon herself in the sky.
But it is the way with novices to be
led astray by representations of a sub
ject which a little further inquiry
would have shown them were wholly
deceptive."
SHUT UP TO AN AVEN QUESTION.
" How well I whistle !" said the
Wind to the Keyhole.
" Well, if that isn't rich!" "you
mean how well /whistle."
" Get me some paper," said the old
woman, " and stuff up that keyhole
and stop the draught.
And.so neither Wind nor Keyhole
whistled any longer.—Leisure Hour.
A GRAIN OF GOLD—Be all reality—
no counterfeit. Do not pass for cur
rent coin what is base alloy. Let
transparent honor and sincerity regu
late all your dealings; despise all
meanness ; avoid the sinister motive,
the underhand dealing; aim at that
unswerving love of truth that would
scorn to stoop to base compliances and
unworthy equivocations; live more
under the purifying and ennobling in
fluence of the Gospel; take its golden
rule as: the matchless directory , for the
daily transactions of life : " Whatso
ever ye would that men should do
to you, do ye even so to them."—
Mind of Jesus.
THE BLIND BOY.
RY REV. FRANCIS L. HAWKS, D.D., LL. D
It was a blessed summer day,
The flowers bloomed, the air was mild;
The little birds poured forth their lay,
And everything in nature smiled.
In pleasant thoughts I wandered on
Beneath the deep wood's ample shade,
Till suddenly I came upon
Two children who had thither strayed.
Just at an aged birch-tree's foot,
A little boy and girl reclined—
His hand in hers she kindly put,
And then I saw the boy was blind
The children knew not I was near—
A tree concealed me from their view ;
But all they said I well could hear,
And I could see all they might do.
"Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy,
"That little bird sings very long ;
Say, do you see him in his joy?
And is he pretty as his song ?"
"Yes, Edward, yes," replied the maid;
"I see .that bird on yonder tree."
The poor boy sighed, and gently said :
"Sister, I wish that I could see."
" The flowers, you say, are very fair,
And bright green leaves are on the trees,
And pretty birds are singing there—
How beautiful for one who sees!
"Yet I the fragrant flowers can smell
And I can feel the green leaf's shade
And I can hear the notes that swell
From those dear birds that/Rod has made
"So, sister, God to me is kind,
Though sight, alas! he has not given:
But tell me, are there any blind
Among the children up in heaven?"
" No, dearest Edward, they all see—
But why ask me a thing so odd?"
" 0 Mary f He's so good to me,
I thought I'd like to look at God."
Erelong, disease his hand bad laid
On that dear boy, so meek and mild i
His widowed mother wept and prayed
That God would spare her sightless child
He felt her warm tears on his face,
And.said : "Oh! never weep for me;
I'm going to a bright, bright place,
Where, Mary says, God I shall see.
" And you'll be there, dear Mary. too ;
But, mother, when you get up there,
Tell Edward, mother, that 'tis you—
You know I never saw you here."
He spoke no mare, but sweetly smiled
Until the final blow was given,
When God took up that poor blind child,
And opened first his eyes in heaven.
A CURL CUT OFF WITH AN AXE.
" Do you see this lock of hair ?" said
an old man.
"Yes; but what of it ? It is, I sup
pose, the curl from the head of a dear
child long since gone to God."
"It is not. It is a lock of my own
hair ; and it is now nearly seventy
years since it was cut from this head."
"But why do you prize a lock of
Your own hair so much ?"
"It has a story belonging to it, and
a strange one. I keep it thus with
care because it speaks to me more of
God and of His special care than any
%
thing else I possess."
"I was a child four , years old, with
long, curly locks, which, in sun, or
rain, or wind, hung down my cheeks
uncovered. One day - my father went
into the woods to cut up a log, and I
went with him. I was standihg a little
way behind him, or rather at his side,
watching with interest the strokes of
the heavy axe, as it went up and came
down upon the wood, sending off splin:
ters with every stroke, in all directions.
Some of the splinters fell at my feet,
and I eagerly stooped to pick them up.
In so doing stumbled forward, and
in a moment my curly head lay upon
the log. I had fallen just at the mo
ment when the axe was coming down
with all its force. It was too late to
stop the blow. Down came the axe,
I screamed, and my father fell to the
ground in terror. He could not stay
the stroke, and in the dizziness which
the sudden horror caused, he thought
he had killed his boy. We soon re
covered; I from my aright, he from
his terror. He caught me in his arms
and looked at me from head tb foot,
to find out the deadly wound which
he was sure he had inflicted. .Not a
drop of blood nor a scar was to be seen.
He knelt upon the ground and gave
thanks to a gradious God. Having
done so, he took up his axe and found
a few hairs upon its edge. He turned
to the log he had been splitting, and
there was a single curl of his boy's
hair, sharply cut through and laid
upon the wood. How great the escape!
It was as if an angel had turned aside
the edge at the moment when it was
descending on my head. With re
newed thanks upon his lips, he took up
the Curl and went home with me in
his arms.
" That lock he kept all his days, as a
memorial of God's care and love. That
lock he left to me on his death-bed."
PEACE WITH ALL MEN.
If any thing in the world will make
a man, eel badly, except pinching his
fingers in the crack of a door, it is
unquestionably a quarrel. No man
ever fails to think less of himself after
it than before. It degrades him in the
eyes of others, and, what is worse,
blunts his sensibilities on the one hand,
and increases the power of passionate
irritability on the other. The truth
is, the more peaceably and quietly we
get on, the better for our neighbors.
In nine bases out of ten, the better
course is, if a man cheats you, quit
dealing with him ; if he's abusive, quit
his company; if he slanders you, take
care to live so that nobody will be
lieve him. No matter who he is, or
how he misuses you, the wisest way is
to let him alone; for there is nothing
better than this cool, calm, and. quiet
way of dealing with the wrongs we
meet with
NOVEMBER 30, 1865.
at th Xittif
TILE SAILOR-BOY OF ItA.VRE; OR,
WHAT .1 - Esti:FS MAN DONE FOR ES.
I want to repeat to you a beautiful
story which Was told first, I think, a
few months ago,
to the dear children
in England. It has now wandered
away across the blue ocean, to teach
the little ones here a great lesson.
I wish you to read it, that you may
think of how much more th e dear
loving Saviour has done for you than
this brave Hide Havre boy did for
that ship's company.
As you • read this touching story,
think how much Jesus suffered to
save you, and me, and all the world
from perishing amid the rocks and
breakers on the rough sea of life.
A French brig was returning from Toulon
to Havre with a rich cargo and numerous
passengers. Off the coast of Bretagne it was
overtaken by a sudden and violent storm.
Captain P at once saw the danger which
threatened the ship on such a rocky coast,
and he gave orders to put out to sea ; but the
winds and waves drove the brig violently to
ward the shore,' and, notwithstanding all the
efforts of the crew, it continued to get nearer
land.
Among the most active on board in doing
all that he could to help, was little Jacques,
a lad twelve years old, who was serving as
cabin-boy in the vessel. At times, when he
disappeared for a moment behind the folds
of a sail, the sailors thought he had fallen
overboard ; and again, when a wave threw
him down on .the deck, they looked around to
see if it had not carried away the poor boy
with it ; but Jacques was soon up again un
hurt. "My mother," said he, smiling, to an
old sailor, would be frightened enough if
she saw me just now."
His mother, who lived at Havre, was very
poor and had a large family. Jacques loved
her tenderly,. and be was enjoying the pros
pect of carrying to her his little treasure—
two five-franc pieces, which he had earned as
his wages for the voyage.
The brig was beaten about a whole day by
the storm, and, in spite of all the efforts of
the crew, they could not steer clear of the
rocks on the' coast. By the gloom on the
captain's brow it might be seen that he had
little hope of saving the ship. All at once a
violent shock was felt, accompanied by a hor
rible crash : the vessel had struck on a rock.
At this terrible momentthe passengers threw
themselves on their knees to pray.
"Lower the boats," cried the captain. The
sailors obeyed; but no sooner were the boats
in the water than they were carried away by
the violence of the waves.
"We have but one hope of safety," said
the captain. "One of us must be brave
enough to run the risk of swimming with a
rope to the shore. We may fasten one end
to the mast of the vessel, and the other to a
rock on the coast, and by this means we may
all get on shore."
" But, captain, it is impossible," said the
mate, pointing to the surf breaking on the
sharp rooks. " Woever should attempt to
run such a risk would certainly be dashed to
pieces."
" Well," said the captain, in a low tone,
"we must all die together." At this moment
there was a slight stir among the sailors, who
were silently waiting for orders. •
" What is the matter there ?" inquired the
captain.
" Captain," replied a sailor, "this little
monkey of a cabin-boy is asking to swim to
the shore with a string round his body to
draw the cable after him : he is as obstinate
as a little mule." And he pushed Jacques
into the midst of the circle. The boy stood
turning his cap round and round in his hands,
without daring to utter a work.
" Nonsense ! such a child can't go," said
the captain, roughly.
But Jacques was not a character to be so
easily discouraged. "Captain," said he,
timidly, " you don't wish to expose the lives
of good sailors like these : it does not matter
what becomes of a `little monkey' of a cabin
boy, as the boatswain calls me. Give me a
ball of strong string, which will unroll as I
get on, fasten•one end around my body, and
I promise you that within an hour the rope
will be well fastened to the shore, or I well
perish in the attempt."
" Does he know how to swim?" asked the
captain.
" As swiftly and as easy as an eel," replied
one of the crew.
" I could swim up the Seine from Havre
to Paris," said little Jacques. The captain
hesitated, but the lives of all on board were
at stake, and he yielded.
Jacques hastened to prepare for his terri
ble undertaking. Then he turned and softly
approached the captain. " Captain," said
he, "as I may be lost, may I ask you to take
charge of something for me ?"
"Certainly, my boy," saidthecaptain, who
was almost repenting of having yielded to his
entreaties.
"Here, then, captain,'.' replied Jacques,
holding out two five-franc pieces wrapped in a
bit of rag ; "if I am eaten by:lithe porpoises,
and you get safe to land, be so kind as to give
this to my mother, who lives on the quay at
Havre ; and will you tell her that I thought
of her, and. that I love her very much, as
well as all my brothers and sisters ?"
"Be easy about that, my boy. If you die
for us, and we escape, your mother shall never
want for anything.'
" Oh, then, I will willingly try to save
you," cried Jacques, hastening to the other
side of the vessel, where all were prepared
for his enterprise.
The captain thought for a moment. "We
ought not to allow this lad to sacrifice himself
for us in this way," said he at length : " I
have been wrong. I must forbid it '
" Yes, yes," said some of the sailors round
him ; "it is ,disgraceful to us all that this
little cabin-boy should set us an example of
courage; and it would be a sad thing if the
brave child should die for old men like us,
who have lived our time. Let us stop him!"
They rushed to the side of the vessel, but
it was too late, They found there only the
sailor who had aided Jacques in his prepara
tions, and who was unrolling the cord that
was fasted to the body of the heroic boy.
They all leaned over the side of the vessel
to see what was going to happen, and a few
quietly wiped away a tear which would not
be restrained.
At first nothing was seen but waves of white
foam, mountains of water which seemed to
rise as high as the mast, and then fell down
with a thundering roar. Soon the practiced
eye of some of the sailors perceived a little
black point rising above the waves, and then,
again, distance prevented them from distin
guishing it at all. They anxiously watched
the cord, and tried to guess, by its quicker or
slower movement, the fate of him who was
unrolling it.
Sometimes the cord waetnirolled rapidly.
" Oh, what a brave fellow !" they said ; "see
how quickly he swims I" At other times the
unrolling of the ball- of string stopped sud
denly : "Poor boy," they. said, "he has been
drowned or dashed against the rocks !"
l!lil
FAMILIAR TALKS.
By itEv. EDWARD PAYSON HAMMOND
This anxiety lasted more than an hour; the
ball of string continued to be unrolled. but at
unequal periods. At length it slipped slowly
over the side of the vessel, and often fell as if
slackened. They thought Jacques must have
much difficulty in getting through the surf on
the - coast. Perhaps it is the body of the
poor boy that the sea is tossing backwards
and forwards in this way," said some of the
sailors. The captain was deeply grieved that
he had permitted the child to make • the at
tempt; and, notwithstanding the desperate
situation in which they were, all the crew
seemed to be thinking more of the boy than
of themselves.
All at once a violent pull was given to the
cord. This was soon followed by a second,
then by a third. It was the signal agreed
upon to tell them that Jacques had reached
the shore. A shout of joy was heard on the
ship. They hastened to fasten a strong rope
to the cord, which was drawn on shore as fast
as they could let it out, and was firmly fas
tened by some of the people who had come
to the heir; of the little cabin-boy. By means
of this rope many of the shipwrecked sailors
reached the shore, and found means to save
the others. Not long after all had safely
landed they saw the vessel sink.
The little cabin-boy was long ill from the
consequenc es of his fatigue, and from the
bruises he had received by being dashed
against the ro e k,.
But he did not mind that;
for, in reward
his bravery, his mother re
ceived a yearly ,um of money which placed
her above the fea r of want. Little Jacques
rejoiced in havin g
'-'ull•ered for her, and at the
same time in having saved so many lives. He
felt that he had been abundantly rewarded.
You see this little fellow hoped all
the time he should be able to reach the
shore, and so save his own life and all
on board the ship. If he had known
that just as he had reached the shore
and saved the rest, he would have
breathed his last, perhaps he would
not have ventured.
But when Jesus left heaven He
knew that if He would save us He
must die a dreadful death on the cross.
He cried. "It is finished," just as He
bowed His head and died.
Take your Bible, my little friend,
and read all about it, in Matthew
xxvii. ; and then kneel down and say,
Dear Saviour, I thank Thee for suf
fering so much for me. With a chain
of love Thou art trying to pull me out
of the dark waters of sin. Oh, draw
me, that Imay run after thee. " Lord,
save, or I perish," for Jesus sake,
Amen.
SWEETLY SINGING.
I know 'tis Jesus loves my soul,
And makes the wounded sinner whole ;
My nature is by sin defiled,
Yet Jesus loves a little child.
How kind is Jesus, 0 how good !
'Twas for my soul lie shed his'blood :
For children s sake he was reviled,
For Jesus loves a little child.
When I offend by thought or tongue,
Omit the right, or do the wrong,
If I repent, he's reconciled,
For Jesus loves a little child.
To me may Jesus now impart,
Although so young, a gracious heart ;
Alas, I'm oft by sin defiled,
Yet Jesus loves a little child.
TRYING TO BE A MAN.
As I was going along the street the
other day, I met a little fellow of about
fourteen years of age, wearing a silk
hat and carrying a cane. MR hat was
such as men wear, and of the latest
style, and.his cane was one of those
dandified affairs which are carried as
ornaments by "children of a larger
growth." He was a bright-eyed, rosy
checked boy, pleasant to look at and
no doubt pleasant to know; but it was
very comical to see the grave air and
measured gait he kept up, as though
he was bent on forcing the public into
believing that he was really a man.
Why, it was about as far from the rim
of his hat to its crown, as it was from
his head to his waist : and instead of
appearing dignified, he only put you
in mind of Torn Thumb in. full dress.
As he strutted along the street, men
and women turned around smilingly
to look after him, and he seemed...to be
the occasion of no small amusement on
the part of those ragged urchins who
carry " the papers" and run on errands.
It is a very common wish among
boys to become 'men ; and a very pro
per desire, it is too, when they have
correct notions of what it is to be a
man. When they think, with the boy
we have just described, that it consists
in throwing off the jacket and loose
cap, and putting on a long-tailed coat
And high hat, why it is a very foolish
symptom. Some boys even go fur
ther than the one we have named, and
think it manly to, smoke cigars and
chew tobacco, and use those horrible
words which we sometimes hear loaf
ers indulgeln. But do boys ever think,
I wonder, that a grown up human
being may wear fine clothes, and may
look like a great, strong fellow, and
yet not be a man, in. any good sense of
that term ? If such a person has vices
and degraded habits, he is no more a
man, than a boy is a "good fellow"
among his playmates, if he is selfish
and. quarrelsome.
What is it then to be a man, and
what should boys imitate in men ?
Why, it is manly to be brave in time
of danger. It is manly to be respect
ful to your superiors, reverential to the
aged, generous to your equals, kind to
your inferiors, charitable to the poor,
forbearing with your associates. It is
manly also to honor God and obey your
parents.
Imitate men—good men in these
things, my dear young friends, and
you will be Manly, no matter what
kind of clothes you wear.—Moore's
Rural.
FEAR not to haVe every action of
your life ope ti; the inspection of
mankind. ' member that a nicer
casuist than an sees into your least
actions. 1 twer to Him, and fear no