fcliß family ©ittU.
MISS MUFF AND LITTLE HUNGRY.
A BALLitD FOR THE CHIIDRES.
BY MISS WARNER.
PART I.
I must tell you a tale about money,
And two little girls who had none ;
Although it’s an everyday story—
No novelty under the sun.
The first one, I think you must know her ;
She lives, very likely, next door.
And the second, you’ve certainly met her
A hundred times, maybe, or more.
But, listen and see if yon know them
As well as they ought to he known;
And if any part of my story
Sounds just like a part of your own.
Miss Muff went out for an airing,
One bitter cold winter’s day,
And many a one smiled to her.
As she walked with her doll down Broadway.
Her face was so round and so rosy,
People said, as they passed one by one,
“ Why, she looks like a dear little bundle 1
A bundle of comfort and funl”
For her frock was of finest merino,
Her boots were as warm as could be;
And two little blanket-like leggings
Wrapped round from the foot to the knee.
The bonnet was silk, neatly quilted;
The cloak was well wadded all through;
Round her neck hung a furry grey tippet,
And each wrist had its furry cuff too.
Even dolly was dressed in the^varmest,
And muffled in cloth and in”silk;
With her cheeks that were red as spring tulijJß,
And her forehead as white as new milk.
And there she went laughing and dancing,
In the funniest sort of a way;
While Muff held her little kid fingers,
For fear she should dance quite away,
They stopped and looked in at the windows
Where other dolls hung in a row;
With woolly dogs, wagons, and kitchens,
Gray kittens, and cocks that would crow.
They went into shops just for candy,
And they went into stores just for play;
And there was not a happier couple
Than Muff and her doll, on Broadway.
There stood upon one of those corners
Where the winter winds played hide and seek,
A child who seemed waiting for courage,
Or waiting for power, to speak.
Her face was so thin and so frozen,
Her lips were so blue with the cold,
That, whatever her pitiful story,
It seemed it could hardly be told.
Sometimes, as the ladies swept by her,
She held out one little stiff hand,
And pleadingly looked in their faces—
For surely they must understand.
And then as they passed her, unheeding,
And floated away gay and sweet,
She patiently waited—and shivered—
And looked up, and looked down the street.
But when she saw Muff and her dolly,
The child’s deep-sunk, hunger-worn eyes
jCould not leave her again for amoment,
And even grew bright with |urpnse.
And Muff, every bit as astonished,
Stopped short where she was in, the Btreetj
And stood there and gazed at the beggar,
Her rage and her bare hands and feet*
Arid while other people strode onward,
And the wind whistled carelessly by ;
Muff listened—and heard Little Hungry
Break forth with her pitiful cry.
“ A penny!—please ma’am, a penny!
Sweet lady, just give me one!
All day I have not had any,
And the dgy is nearly done.
“My basket you see is empty,
And my feet are all aching with cold;
If I was not so very hungry,
I never Bhould be so bold.”
“ Little girl, why do you go ragged,
And stand in the street to beg ?
And why don’t you have astocking
To cover your little bare leg?”
“ 0 lady, we have no money,
And very little to eat;
And mother says, if we must starve,
We may as well starve in the street,
“And, maybe, some blessed lady,
Or gentleman kind and good,
Might pity the poor little beggar,—
My mother said, maybe, they would.
“So, lady, please give me a penny 1 —
Dear lady, to buy some bread I
For mother can’t work as she used to,
And father has long been dead.”
“ Little girl? I would give you a penny,
. {Mother gave me a dollar to-day)
But the things that I like are so many,
I’ve spent all my money away.
“ I wanted a hat for my dolly,
And those little red shoes for her feet;
And by that time, you know, we were hungry.
And had to get something to eat.
“ And then, after all, I eat nothing
But two little pieces of cake;
' For the icing that covered the last one
Made this little wicked tooth ache.
“So, poor little girl, I have nothing
I gave my very last cent
For one stick of wintergreen candy,
And now all my money is spent.”
PART n,
Miss Muff went home to her dinner,
And failed not to tell her nurse
Of all the events of the morning,
And how she had emptied her purse.
Sto took off her cuffs and her tippet,
And tumbled them down on the bed,
And carefully lifted the bonnet t
That covered her gay little head.
Still all the time talking and laughing,
And telling the sights she had seen;
T-he poor little girl on the corner, -
And the lady in purple and green.
“Dear, dear I” said the nurse, ‘*who’d have
thought it I .
That you should stand still on the street,
A talking to all the beggars
That ever you happen to meet!
“ Why, some day you’ll freeze all your fingers,
And, maybe, the half of your toes;
And like as not catch from the beggars
Some terrible sickness—who knows?
“But run down to the parlor, my pigeon,—
Mamma is just waiting for yon;
I know who’ll have turkey for dinner,
And custard, and apple-pie too.”
yiaa Muff went down to the parlor,
And gave her mamma a good hug;
And then she stood still by the fire,
; Her feet on the soft velvet rug.
The fire went blazing and crackling,
And Muff warmed each fat little hand,
And thought about beggars and candy,—
Things wiser heads don’t understand!
THE AM UR!can PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY. JANUARY 18. 1886.
Mamma, ” she said gravely, "when people
Have nothing to wear, nor to eat,
,'hy, do you suppose, they like better
To come out and die in the street?”
; My dear!” said her mother, “ good gracious !
Why, what makes you talk of such things?
tut what has become of our dinner ?
Muff, give the bell two or three rings.” x
Miss Muff rang the bell,—and the servant
Flung open the dining-room door;
And the room seemed to glitter with conlfort
As it never had glittered before.
The firelight danced up the chimney,
And the gaslights burned clear overhead;
And the dinner for two that was spread there
Was enough for a dozen instead.
There was cranberry sauce for the turkey,
And potatoes both golden and white;
With celery, cold ham, and oysters,
And more —that I won’t stop to write.
You’d hardly have thought it’was winter,
.The room was so cheerful and warm 5
Within, all was shining with comfort,
"But without, was a wild winter’s storm,
So gravely Miss Muff eat her turkey,
And, gravely took pieces of bread;
She scarcely could, relish her dinner,
With so many thoughts in her head.
She heard the wind roar in the chimney,
And knew how it blew in the street;
And sharp, icy hail was beginning
The window and pavement to heat.
She looked at the gay crackling fire,
And mamma’s dress, of rich silken stuff;
And thought of that poor empty basket, .
And her plate—wherewasmorethan enough
Then tasted the pie and the custards.
And wondered, and wondered, and thought
Till the waiter again cleared the table,
And the almonds and raisins were brought.
“ Mamma, why don’t people get money,
And not be so dreadfully poor ? _
And buy themselves bonnets and tippets ?
I should think they would like to, I’m sure.’
“ Indeed,” said mamma, “I can’t tell you,—
Just hand me a nut-cracker, dear ;
But if people will choose to he wicked,
Why, then they must suffer, I fear.”
0, are all the poor people wicked ?' ’
Said Muff, with her wide open eyes ;
Mamma, would my poor little beggar,
Be better for turkey and pies?”
“And pray, who,is your little beggar?
And where have you been all the day ?
And could you find nothing more pleasant
Than beggars, to see in Broadway?”
“Yes, mamma, I saw plenty of people,
Dressed out just as fine as they could.
WouM such clothes make my child a good beg
gar?
Mamma, do you think that they would ?"
“ What nonsenseyon talk,” said her mother,—
“As foolish as foolish can be.
Go read in your story hooks, darling—
Or play with your dolly till tea.
“ These beggars you talk of, are naughty;
They’re children for whom no one cares:
They don’t wash their clothes nor their faces,
And, I daresay, not one says her prayers.”
“ And'then if they were nice and pretty,
And had ribbons and dresses and lace,
And said their prayers, too, God would love
them?”
Said Muff, with her serious face.
“ Why, yes—l don’t know —I suppose so, —
Dear me, what strange things children say!
You can talk of such things when you’re older,-
Now. darling, run off to your play.” _
Muff went and sat down on the hearth rug,
And tried on her dollyjs new hat;
But for waiting till Bhe was a lady,
Her thoughts would not hear about that.
(to be concluded.)
LETTERS TO GOD.
[IiOKG’S MONTHLY LETTER FOR NOVEMBER.]
One day I met a little girl coming
from our post-office, crying most bit
terly. I drew near, to see wbat could
be the matter, when I beard bubbling
up from her broken heart these words:
“I didn’t get no letter —“I didn’t —
get —no —letter.” What friend failed
to write to*this little pet, I know not.
I wish he or she- had been there, to see
in those tear-drops how much the
young folks think a letter is worth.
At this time, dear friends, my pen
would like to tell you how some have,
in times of trouble, tried to send let
ters to their “ Friend” in Heaven. Yes,
and how God sent them answers, too.
Did you ever think how "nigh” Gad
and Heaven are “to such as be of a
broken heart?” How much trouble it
would save to many, if they but knew
and believed this ?
One day a bright little* girl came to
Professor Wise, the balloonist, and
said: “ Mr. Wise, won’t you. take me
up in your balloon ?” As the balloon
was starting, he said: “Why
do you want to go, my dear?" “I
want to see my papa in Heaven,” was
the touching reply.
Tears stood in his eyes, as Mr. Wise
had to tell her that his balloon didn’t
go high enough to reach Heaven.
A little boy, four years old, was
sent half a mile from home on an
errand. On his way home, he had to
come through a piece of woods. As
he entered it, he heard a loud clap of
thunder, which frightened him very
much. Soon there came a bright flash
of lightning, and the boy trembled all
over. Just at this moment he remem
bered that he had two cents at home,
that somebody had given him; it was
all he had. He stood still a moment,
and looking up, he promised God that
if he would take care of him, and
keep him safely till he could get home,
he would give Him his two cents.
God took care of the little boy,
though he got wet all over during the
shower. As he went to bed that night,
he thanked God in his prayer for
keeping him from being" hurt by the
thunder and lightning, but still he
could not go asleep. His mother hear
ing him crying and sobbing, went ana
asked him the cause. “ Why, mother,
said he, “on my way home to-day,
when I was afraid in the shower, 1
told God I would give him my two
cents if He would keep me safe; and
now how shall I get them to Him? . ..He
found himself in quite'a fix; howto
get out was the great question that
caused the tear-drops to flow.
In what -way tvould you have help
ed him out ?
Let me tell yon of some of the
“roundabout ways" that have been
made to send things to God. In Paris
lived a poor family. The mother was
sick, and the father had met with an
accident, so that neither of them could
work. - The five little children were
beginning to suffer hunger. One of
the number going to school was told
that, when in trouble, we should “ad
dress ourselves to G.od.” So she
thought that the poor-box which she
saw aside of the church door, and
which had a large hole on the top to
drop things in, was God’s post-office
letter-box. Getting pen, paper and
ink, she set to work and wrote. God a
letter, telling Him ‘all her troubles,
and asking Him to make father and
mother well, and to send some bread
for her hungry brothers and sisters.
After it was all nicely written, she ran
off with it to the church of St. Roeh.
Her letter was about being dropped
in, when a kind lady, noticing her
singular conduct, stopped her, think
ing she was at some mischief. When
she asked the girl what she was doing,
she at first did not wish to tell; but
after a little she confessed what had
brought her to the church. \
The lady took the letter, and prom
ised it should reach its destination, hut
first asked to what address God’s an
swer should he sent. The girl gave
the number of her house in one of the
narrow streets, and then ran home
with a light heart. Next morning, on
opening the door of her room, she
found a large basket filled with cloth-1
ing for the family, and a heap of
money, and on top of the package
were the words —“An answer from
the Lord.” Soon after, a kind doctor
came, who gave the needed medicine
to the sick father and mother. 0, how
thankful the daughter was, to think
her letter was answered so soon and so
well. . No doubt she felt as did old
David when he said, “ I am poor and
needy, yet the Lord thinfceth upon me."
“I love the Lord because he hath
heard my voice. Because he hath in
clined his ear unto me, therefore will
I call upon Him as long as I live.”
Let me also tell you what happened
in Berlin. One day a canary bird was
found, with a nice letter hanging about
its neck. The bird was caught; the
letter was thus addressed, in German:
“An den lieben Gott.” (“Tothe Good
Lord”) The seal was broken open,
when inside was found a touching let
ter from a lady who was confined in a
lunatic asylum. She was sent to this
insane asylum by her relatives; and
as they would not listen to her sad
story of sufferings, she took this cana
ry bird from the cage, and sent it
forth to the sky, with a letter “to the
Good Lord,” asking Him to take her
out of this world. As the lady signed
her name in full, her friends were soon
found out, and she was set at liberty
and restored to a happy home. Thus
was her letter sent “to the Good Lord,”
and answered to the joy of her soul. ,
. My pen feels like writing you also
about a German boy whose name was
Karl. Before his father died, he was
often told that, when he got a little
bigger, he would be sent to a good
Moravian school. But, after his fath
er’s death, his mother was left very
poor, and found it difficult to get food
and clothing for little Karl. What
was Karl to do? Reading in the
Bible the many stories how Christ
helped the poor; how He opened the
eyes of the blind, and made the;deaf
to-hear, and the lame to walk; how
He fed the hungry multitudes with
bread and fish; yea, and even made
the fish in the sea to bring up money
when it was needed —ah! thought
poor little Karl, “Heis the Oneto help
me; if I could only get to Him and :
tell Him. But how shall I get to Him?”
said he. “Oil know what I will do.
I will write Him a letter.” This he
did thus, in the German language:
“My dear Saviour, Jesus Christ, 1
have lost my father. We are very
poor, but Thou hast said in thy word
that ‘All we ask' in thy name, God
will do it for us.’ I believe what Thou
hast said, Lord Jesus. I pray Thee,
then, 0 my God, in the name of Jesus,
to give ipy mother the money to send
me to the good Moravian school, where
boys get to be wise and good.' Then
I can serve Thee and help my mother.
Good-bye. Karl.” •.
The letter was then folded and ad
dressed —“ To our Lord Jesus Christ in
Heaven}' Away he ran with it to the
post-office, and dropped it in the letter
box with a hopeful heart. After .a
while the postmaster was sorting his
letters, when he came to this one—“To
the Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven.
But how was he to send it? That
place was not on the mail route. No
railroad cars or steamboat goes there.
"0 I guess some crazy one .has
written it.” And so he threw it aside.
After the day’§ work was over, he
took up the curious letter and opened
•it His heart was touched by it, and
so he gave it to a Moravian friend,
who read it aloud at-church.
A rich lady, the Baroness of La
Lippe, listened to its touching appeal,
and sent an answer to . Karl, saying
that she answered it for the
Jesus,” and would send him to that
school. „ .r,-
0, how glad little Karl was for this
kind answer to his letter, my
dear friends, you and I know p t
quicker and better way to make
wants and wishes known to God.
simple look of faith will do; for the
Psalmist says: "They looked unto
the Lord and were lightened.” And
simply opening our lips in prayer, we
“ shall receive;” and God says, " While
they are yet speaking, I will hear.
May our eyes ever be turned towards
God, and our lips kept open in prayer.
Yours, ever, E. M. Long.
MRS. FRY.
Mrs. Farrar, in her new book, gives
the following aecount of that womanly
philanthropist, Mrs. Fry:
She had been married many years,
and was the mother of ten children,
when her attention was called to the
wretched state of the female prisoners
in Newgate, by some male friends who
went there to see some criminals
whom they knew. She was shocked to
hear that three hundred women, with
their numerous children, were crowded
into four small rooms, without beds or
bedding, without classification, tried
and untried, in rags and dirt, and
there they lived, cooked and washed.
Their wretched condition made them
so fierce and brutal, that the governor
of the prison entered this portion of it
with reluctance; and when Mrs. Fry,
accompanied’ by one other lady,
wished to be admitted, he advised
them to leave their watches outside,
lest they should be snatched from them.
This they refused to do, and taking
with them a quantity of clothing to
give away, they entered that Babel of
discordant sounds. Their appearance
produced a lull, and certainly the tall,
commanding figure* of Mrs. Fry, with
her mild, benignant countenance, and
her sweet tones of voice, might well
make her appear like some heavenly
vision to those degraded women. She
distributed the clothing of which they
stood so much in need, promised them
some • comforts, and spoke words ot
kindness and encouragement to them,
such as they rarely, if ever, heard.
Many years after this, I visited New
gate with Mrs. Fry, and witnessed the
thorough reformation that had been
effected there. The female prisoners,
were classified, cleanliness and order
prevailed, swearing and fighting had
given place to reading and sewing,
and a Committee of ladies were con
stantly visiting the: prison by turns.
The morning I was there, Mrs. Fry
was to have her last religious exercises
with sixty female convicts about to
embark for Botany Bay. We entered
a good-sized, clean room, and found
them all seated on benches, in perfect
silence at the further end of it. Mrs.
Fry stood at a small table between her
arid the convicts; a few visitors like
myself, stood on either side of her.
She read from the New Testament a
few consolatory passages, and then
proposed to pray with them. The
women rose, turned round, and kneeled
beside, the benches; Mrs. Fry kneeled
on a hassock before her table, and
lifted up her melodious voice in such
a strain of tender supplication for help
arid comfort to the afflicted and sorrow
ful, as I can never forget. She merged
herself in them, and seemed as if she
were bearing them up on wings of
love to the thrope of grace. Such* a
prayer I never before heard, and
never shall again. It was sublime, it
was fervent, and it moved all present
to tears. The poor women sobbed
aloud. Mrs. Fry had previously talked
with each one of them and given them
appropriate advice, and furnished,
them with employment on their long
voyage. My mother used to dress dolls
for the convicts’ children tq play
with at sea.
THE LITTLE s STRANGER.
October 25. —For the last three days
dark clouds and pelting rain have hin
dered me from getting even a peep of
the earth. When 1 did so to-day, I
saw at once that a change had passed
over it. A fearful tempest had raged,
carrying destruction before it, —
strewing the. shores with the remains
of wrecked vessels, telling a lamentable
tale of woe, and speaking of the
dangers attending those “who go down
to the sea in ships, who do business in
great waters.” The face of nature
| also bore on it the ravages of the
tempest; here and there great trees
torn up by the roots lay prostrate on
the ground, and the earth was cov
ered with the many-colored leaves of
autumn.
I glanced into several abodes, and
saw in some hearts suffering in unison
with nature arouud. But even while
the storm raged thus without, joy had
come to others.
In one room of a mansion in the.
suburbs of a beautiful Scottish city, I
' saw the following. The shutters were
partially shut, but I slid in, and peep
ing throught the half-drawn curtains
6f a bed, saw there a mother and a.
new-born babe. The child was asleep,
i but the mother watched it as it lay, a
I strange feeling of bliss stirring her
heart, for this babe was her first-born,
Only two days had the little stran
ger as yet lived oh earth; in the midst
of the raging ' tempest it.had firs>
opened its eyes on a world of care ant.
I sorrow. Could one have wondered if,
in dismay at the prospect before it, the
gentle spirit had A? d *?' bri
realms ? But no: He who gave it
Eh and fashioned all its members,
had a work for it to do on earth-a
work for Him. Already that work
#a XsTH ttle messenger of joy, the
IbabyV l had come > bringlQg PPl '
ness and comfort to anxious hearts.
No father’s kiss had as yet rested on
its infant brow, for he was far off in
distant lands, fighting for his home
and country. But as she gazed on
the lonely little babe, the mother felt
strengthened to beaf up till, in hap
ner days, she could put the child in
its father’s arms.
Sleep on, little babe, happy in the
'and of baby-dreams! Short as thy
ife has yet been in this world, thou
last done a work in it which many,
alas! who have lived years on earth
have failed to do—thou hast brought
joy to a human heart. May thy life
be a happy one; thine earthly mission
the blessed one of comforting weary
hearts.
I brightened up all around, then
withdrew—thinking, as I did so, that
though my rays shall one day be ex
tinguished, the immortal soul of the
little babe can never die. What better
boon could I wish for it, than that it
may early be led to the good Shep
herd, who, whilst He lived on earth,
took the little ones in His arms and
blessed them, and who from yonder
heavens, from His throne of glory,
says still, Mothers, "suffer little chil
dren to come unto me, and forbid
them not.’’ “My ways are ways of
pleasantness, and all my paths are
peace.” —Diary of the Sun.
A TEST.
An American vessel was once board
ed by a Malay merchant in the Indian
seas, and almost the first question was,
if he had good books or tracts to dis
pose of.
‘■'Why, what do you want of them ?
You cannot read them,” said the cap
tain.
“ True,” replied the Malay, “but I
rave a use for them. If one of your
oeople, or an Englishman, comes to
trade with me, I give him a tract, and
watch what he does with it. If he
reads it soberly, and treats it with re
spect, I take it he is honest, and will
not cheat me; but if he throws it down
with an oath, I’ll have nothing more
to do with him, for he can’t be trusted.”
fur t|s §Mr jMfcs.
FAMILIAR TALKS—2D SERIES. TIL
BY RET. EDWARD PAYSON 6AMMOND.*
THE MOCK PRAYEB-ME KTI3TCJ.
I JUST ASKED HIM (JESUS), AND LEFT
HIM TO DO IT.”
I want to tell you, my little friend,
two nice stories about some children
in Brooklyn. One is about a little
girl, who seems never to have heard
of Jesus ; and the other is about a
boy who, though he had a praying
mother, was very bad till he found
Jesus. He was so wicked, that, with
some other boys, he got up a mock
prayer-meeting. But when a kind
lady told him that he was mocking
Jesus, he says, "I was very sorry.” I
will tell you these nice stories just as
they were told to me.
I came upon a little girl, one afibernaon,
whose plain dress showed her to be of the
poorer class. Under the ragged hood there
was a simple, sweet face, and a peaceful smile
on it made me expect the hearty “ 0, yes!”
that I received, when I asked, Do you love
Jesus? How long have you loved Him? I
said. ‘ ‘ Ever since three weeks ago last Sun
day,” she replied, “ I never heard anything
about Him before that. A lady asked me to
go to Sunday-school there, and a gentleman
told us about Jesus, and how He came to die
for us; and so I could not help loving Him. 1 ’
But did not your father or mother ever tell
you anything about the dear Saviour? I
asked. “I haven’t any father or mother,
brother, or sister, or anybody; I live with a
lady, and when the gentleman told us about
Jesus, I went home and asked her, and she
told me a great deal more about him.”
What makes you love Jesus? I said. “ Be
cause He came to save me from my sins.”
Then you. feel you’ve‘been a sinner? “0,
ves; I did a great many wicked things before
I knew how wrong they were, but Jesus for
gave me.” How do you know He forgave
you? “0,1 know He did; I just asked Him,
and left Him to doit.” And do you want
others to come to Jesus and get the new
heart? “ Yes, I wish everybody would, and
then they would be so happy.”
At another time, six boys were kneeling in
a side seat, and having, as I supposed, a lit
tle prayer-meeting; but watching them, I
discovered they were laughing, instead of
praying, and as they rose from their knees, I
saw plainly they were making sport, by a
mock meeting, otsome other boys,‘who, near
by, were having a real one. I turned to ask
you to go and speak to them, but you urged
me to go. With a trembling heart I went, not
with any special purpose of leading them
then to the Saviour, but to try and make
them feel what a terrible thing they were
doing in so mocking God. They seemed
rather ashamed, and began putting the blame
one on the other, except onej who spoke up
honestly and said: “I started it.” I will
let him tell the whole story, however, in his
own words.
“ A lady met me on the street, one day,
and asked if I had been to any of the meet
ings, at the Tabernacle, 1 told her no, and
asked her what they were-; and she said Mr.
Hammond met the children there every after
noon, and talked with them about Jesus, and
many had began to love that dear Saviour.
I said I’d come, perhaps, and the next day
I went and took some boys withme; thought
I’d have some fun. Something that was said
made me feel badly, and when a„ gentleman
came and talked and prayed with me," I
thought I’d like to be a Christian, I went
home, however, and forgot ail about being
good, and two or three days after went to
meeting again to have some fun.
“ Mr. Hammondtoldus we must go home,
unless we had prayer-meetings, or were wait
ing to be talked with; so I told the boys we’d
nn. a ? eetin S- We .knelt down, laughing
all the timebut when we got up and com
menced to sing ‘ I love Jesus,"’h lady oame
to us and told us we were doing a terrible'
thing; we were mocking God; that He saw
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j what we were doing, even more plainly than
she did: and that we were telling a lie when
we sang ‘I love Jesus,’ for we were really
hating hint. I began to see that it was very
wicked, and told her I was sorry ; and she
said that I must tell God so and ask Him to
forgive me. Then she prayed with us and
went away. A gentleman came_ and talked
with me, and he made me feel still more how
wicked I was and had been all my life. I tried
to pray, and could not. So I found the lady
again, and asked her, when she prayed her
own prayers at home, if she wouldn’t pray
for me. She said she would not wait until
she went home, but took me in a. side seat
and we prayed there. I went away feeling
such a weight of sin, and when I got home
went right up stairs and asked God to take
away my wicked heart and give me a new
heart, for Jesus’ sake. Mother prayed with
me too, and I think God forgave me there,
for I have been so happy ever since, and it
seems so nice to read the Bible and pray now.
I did not love to go to Sunday-school before,
and used to lie in bed late Sunday morning,
so I would not have to go. But now Sunday
is the pleasantest time of the whole week.
It is hard sometimes to do right, and I have
to run in the house every little while and
kneel down and pray, I come so near getting
mad with the boys. ”
As you have read these nice stories,
have you not felt that you too would
like to love Jesus ? You see the very
first time this ignorant little child heard
of Jesus, she says, “I could not help
loving Him.” And yet you have
heard of Him all your life, hut you
have never loved Him at all. Like
these wicked hoys, you have mocked
Him many times.
What a good answer this child gave,
when asked why she loved Jesus—
“ Because He came to save me from my
sins." Hasn’t He come just as much
to save you from your sins? Are not
you far more wicked than this child
was, for not loving Him? If you
should die this hour, are you- prepared ?
If not, 0! come to Jesus in the simple
way this little one did.
She says-, "I know Jesus forgave
me. ■ I just asked Him, and left Him
to do it.” That’s what you have to do.
O, then, do it "just now.”
This hoy who was so had says, “ I
asked God to take away my wicked
heart and give me a new heart, for
Jesus’ sake; and I think God forgave
me then.” How, you see, he loves to
pray and to read the Bible, and “Sun
day is the pleasantest time of the
whole week.” John Bunyan says,
"Praying will make us leave off sin
ning, or sinning will make us leave off
praying.” So, if this boy runs into
the house and prays every time he
“ comes so near getting mad with the
boys,” he will soon gain the victory
over his had temper.
Come, then, to Jesus, my dear little
friend, and offer this
/ PBAYEB,
"I have been very wicked not to
love Thee, when Thou wast so kind
as to come down from heaven , unto
this wicked world to die for me, a sin
ner. I wish to love Thee and to give
myself to Thee. 0, God, help me by
thy Spirit, for Jesas sake. Amen.”
INCIDENT OF A CHILD.
A little boy, about eight years old,
having jumped off the car from the
rear platform, ran forward to get on
in front, and by accident slipped and
fell, so that the heavily.-loaded car
passed over his leg, crushing it in a
frightful manner. While he was lying
on sone straw by the roadside, pre
vious to being taken to the hospital,
a little girl picked up his cap; and
having ascertained from him his name
and residence, ran with it to his home.
His mother opened the door, when
the child exclaimed, " Here is the cap
of the little boy who has just been
run over by the railroad car.”
What words to .reach a mother’s
ear! What wonder that, with frantic
speed, she should have rushed to the
fatal spot, thence to track him by
his blood to the hospital. There she
was at first denied access to her boy,
lest her excessive agitation should
hasten his death. A few moments
and the mother’s love so stilled the
surging anguish of her heart, that,
with the calmness of despair, she was
admitted to the presence of her darling
child, only to find him conscious of his
danger, and ready to obey the sud
den summons to his heavenly home.
“Jesus is with me, mother,” he said;
" I must die, but Jesus is with me.” —
S. S. Times. .
VELVET TONGUES.
When I was a boy, I and a number
of my playmates had rambled through
the woods and fields till, quite forget
ful of the fading light, we found our
selves far from home. Indeed, we had
lost our way. It did so happen we
were nearer home than we thought;
but how to get to it was the question.
By the edge of the field we saw a
man coming along, and we ran to ask
him to tell us. Whether he was in
trouble or not, Ido not know, but he
gave us some very surly answer.
Just then there came; along another
man, a near neighbor, and with a mer
ry smile on his face- “ Jim,” said he,
“a man’s tongue is like a cat’s; it
is either a piece of velvet or a piece
of sand-paper, just as Jhe likes to use
it; and I declare you always seem
to use your tongue for sand-paper.
Try the velvet, man, try the velvet
principle.” —Blind Amos.
Stebne used to say the most accom
plished way of using* books is»tao serve
them as some people do lords)—learn
their titles, and then brag of their
acquaintance.