(51jf fantilg
[For the American Presbyterian.]
[FROM A WELL-KNOWN ANECDOTE.]
For weeks was no rain in the village,
Not a cloud to be seen in the sky,
And the eyes of the farmers seemed failing
With looking upward so high.
The grain in the fields was all dying,
For want of the soft gentle showers ;
E'en the grass by the roadsidewas with'ring
And low drooped the beautiful flowers.
Then had they no refuge but praying
That God who aendeth the rain,
Might turn from Hia wrath unto mercy,
And remember His people again.
As up to the church came they sadly,
Beside him one saw in the throng,
A wee bonnie lassie, who carried
A huge old umbrella along.
Half smiling, he asked her the reason
She carried the cumbersome thing,
When the sun shone so bright in the heaven
And no cloud in the blue sky was seen.
She lifted her earnest face to him
With a look half of wonder, half pain—
" Why sir, I thought I should need it,
You know, we're to pray for the rain."
All his wisdom affordei no answer,
For her words like an arrow of light
Revealed the skeptical darkness
That shrouded his spirit in night.
And the faith of the child, by the Master,
Was honored that same afternoon,
For even while they were praying
He sent them the long•wished-for boon.
Just such is that faith of believers,
That tells them their sins are forgiven,
That Christ is their Lord and Redeemer,
And their's is the kingdom of heaven.
M. A. R
HUNTING AFTER HIM.
[The following is the fragment of a
chapter in " Jane Gurley's Story," a
serial of unusual beauty, by Miss E.
Phelps, now running 'through Hours
at. Home. The little here given sufficient
ly reveals the early history of Jane and
the glimpses of her better future, to
make it both intelligent and interesting
as an isolated article.]
"Reuben, it is so funny to be
happy."
Reuben smiled.
" I mean just to be a little bit happy,
out of the house, when I'm off with
you ; when I. forget about ;father ;
when I forget about-0 ! so much 1"
She drew a long, - restful breath.
The boy's answer was in his eyes.
"I think it is really very funny,
Reuben," with her little whimsical
shrug of the shoulders ; " sometimes I
want to laugh at it, and sometimes—
sometimes, Reuben, I want to cry."
They were alone there in the door
way ; she turned her face up to his,
her wonderful eyes, full of their word
less stories—a little dim just then.
Janet's eyes were not often dim. She
turned away her face to hide. them,
when she heard what Reuben said.
" Reuben , " presently, " sometimes I
wonder think perhaps—do you
suppose it might possibly be true, after
all?''
" What, Janet 7"
" About Him they say used to live
here with the poor folks, Reuben ; to
suffer all his life, and know all about
every thing. Why, if I could believe
it,"-.her eyes dilating with a sort of
surprise—" if I could believe it, Reu
ben 1"
"I don't know, Janet," his face turn
ing in its questioning way toward the
darkness ; " sometimes I think it is,
may be."
" If I could atop awhile, Reuben ; if
I could stop and rest a little while I If
they--I don't know who it is, but
there's somebody there—if they'd let
us find out together—you and me.
Do you suppose we could, Reuben ?"
" When we get out in the country,
Janet, where there's plenty of wind
and flowers—may be, may be, some
times I think it isn't so easy to think
things against him. They come -up
and look at you, and look at you, and
look at you so, Janet.
"I think it's easy enough I" the
girl's face hardening for the moment;
"all my life he's done things against
me. I can't forget 'em so easy. Did
I want to have a .devil for a father ?
Did I want to stay working in the
dust and wheels, always drawing pic
tures on the glass, pictures on the
reels, pictures on the walls; always
hearing the dust and wheels laughing
at me ? DO I want to see Baby Ben
growing up like all the rest of 'em, and
I can't stir a finger to help it ? Did I
want to be born, any way ? Did he
ever give me any thing I wanted but—
you?'
And then her voice dropped -into a
whispers and her face melted utterly.
"Reuben, if he'd let me keep you /
If it.wasn't just like him to take you
away V'
"Take me away 7. Why, Janet!
bow P You don't think it would be
one, ja-net
Her face was very beautiful and
very womanly, when she simply
aaswered:
"No"
After a pause :
"I don't know- how, Reuben ; but
he'd find a way if he wanted it. I can't
help tbinking he'll find a way I"
There are prophecies in life un
sought and uncomprehended, which
flash, -and pass, and are gone. Of the
wheace and the whither, no man
knoweth, nor shall know, till the day
of the revealing of mysteries shall
come. Such a prophecy might have
been written on the faces of the two
at thit moment The wind was wail
ing abOUt the corner of the alley.
They listened to it, and neither spoke.
FAITH.
The boy turned at last, smiling ' and
pushed the hair from his forehead in
his nervous way..
" We're as likely to be happy as
any body else, Iguess, an't we, Janet ?"
She made no answer.
" And as long as it lasts." She
looked up, with her truer and better
look.
"As long as it . lasts. Reuben, I'll
hunt after that God—Him that lived
with the poor folks. I think I should
like to find him."
As tong as it.,/asis. Verily,_ a proviso
made by better' hearti than Jane's.
The wealthy patriarch,at Bethel, who
took the Lord to be.his God on condi
tion that he would give him a prosper
ous journey, and much cattle, and
men-servants, and maid-servants, may
not be without his counterpart in later
and better times.
When Janet was,alone in her own
room'that night with Baby Ben, she
„hunted for something on a neglected
shelf high in the dust and cobwebs of
her chimney closet. It was an old
Bible, long disused and torn. She
took it to the light, opened it, laid it
on her table, and sat , down beside it, '
her hair falling
,over her facp,,and over
it.
She read till midnight, and closed
the book, and leaned back in her chair
with a long sigh. She took up
Thomas Paine then, turning its far
more familiar pages with a sort of im
patience; then back again to the Bible;
and then she closed them both.
"If I could only believe it—if I
could 1" throwing out her hands with a
curious gesture of appeal. Muttering
presently : "Crucified, and wounded,
and killed !"
She rose then to pace her room as
she so`often did, her face like the face
of a puzzled child. For the girl was
honest with herself that night; of that
Lam, sure., Her soul, growing, little
by little, healthful and strong under
the blessing of Reuben's love, cried
out for that dearer love, and surer, of
which she had*, moments—as I. fancy.
even the lost must have—her dim
dreams and longings. Indeed, it seem
ed as if her unbelief were but a disease,
caused by the actual, incessant suffer
ing of her life, reacting upon itself, and
which, the rest of a little happiness
such as her God gave to so many I
young creatures like Janet, in measure
, pressed down and running over, might
cure.
" I wonder if He sent me Reuben,"
muttering the name over to herself :
"Reuben.
For it was such a mightylove that
had come into this girl's life. On it
hung such terrible, eternal issues.
At any rate, through it, and because
of it, for the first time for seventeen
years, Jane was' huntinz i aor God.
Very honestly, and vOljelpatiently.
Quite alone and in the dark ; feeling
her way over thorns, and straining
tear-dimmed eyes, if perhaps he might
be found of her—the Man of Sorrows,
crowned with thorns, brought very
near to her loneliness and her guilt; he
who had felt every pang for her, and
with her ; who had mourned over
Janet standing afar off from him; who,
before the world was, had lovd her.
OC. how he would rest Janet. 01 that
she knew where she might find him.
And that she should come wearily
back, his face unseen, his voice un
heard; because there was no human
helper to take her by the 'faltering
hand and lead her unto' him 1 So near
to him ; and it might be!
It chanced that Janet had a holiday
that week—it being one of those pub
lic fasts which to her, and to others
like her, mean the veriest thanksgiv
ings for their rest from. the whirl and
the roar and the dinginess. She bad
taken Baby Ben out for a walk in the
fresh, 'morning sunlight, hoping per.
haps to find Reuben in some of their
little rendezvous among the parks.
She chose instinctively a street that
led her past the chief picture -stores of
the city—a street as familiar to her as
to any of the gay connoisseurs who
thronged to it in their daily pleasure
hours.
" We'll see the picture's, slian't we,
Bennie ?" laughing as he clung to her
neck, in infantile fear of the jostling
passers. "Janie's baby mustn't be
afraid ; she will take good care of him.
A whole holiday, Ben ; and pictures
in the windows. ThinlZ----such beauti-
ful pictures for Janie's baby ! Baby
Ben will love the pictures when he
grows up, won't he ?"
She had so taught the child the
word, from its bright reflection in her
own face, that he used to answer her
with a cry of delight at the sound of
it. She was so pleased at that always
—laughing outright, and kissing his
forehead, cheeks, and lips like a very
child herself.
"01 such pictures as Janie will draw
for Baby Ben some day—when we go
out in the country, may be—. Reuben
and Bennie and me. Such nice times
we will have 1 01 here they are =in
windows, so many pictures for Baby
Bent Gold frames, and black frames,
and sansetp, and oceans, and rocks,
and children and water-0 Baby
Ben 1"
And then she quite forgot Baby Ben,
in her gazing. The windows were
freshly stocked that day; the pictures
all new to her. There was one that
caught and held her eyes—a painting
in oils. It bore a great name on the
card slipped into its frame; but of that
Janet knew and thought nothing. It
was a long, low moor, with rank
TOE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MAY 3, 1866.
winds, a stagnant
grasses swept by
marsh, and a dead tree sharp in the
foreground. Beyond, a long, low sun
set; a streak of dreary red, burnt
through clouds. Midway, and alone,
the figure of a woman with the red
light on her face.
There was another—a pretty bit of
coloring on porcelain, a fter*- ofie of
Correggio's children, strangling a
greyhound with caresses...,_At that she
laughed outright. The elegantly : clad
lady, just brushingpast her within the
door turned her haughty eyes on,her
in astonishment. Two or three passers
smiled. But Janet did not know it.
She had forgotten that she was not the
only person in the universe for whom
the choice, bright window was opened.
There was a little gem of Weber s, too,
which she had the audacity perfectly
to comprehend—you saw that from
her eyes.
But she found at last, that in which
every thing else was forgotten. It
was a fine line-engraving of one of
Raphael's cartoons—Elymas the sor
cerer, struck with blindness. You re
member it ? At once among the most
uncouth, revolting, and wonderful of
all. Jane did not know the artist's
name, and therefore went iuto no, well
bred ecstasies. To her unsophisticat
ed eyes the majority of the bystanders
appeared to be cripples, and the apos
tle, she concluded, after some specula
tion, was trying to hide in the corner.
But on the turbaned sorcerer, with his
closed eyes, bared throat, and great,
groping hands on which the veins
stood out like iron, her eyes fastened.
Not only because the whole genius of
the picture lay in that solitary, appeal
ing figure ; but because of some quick
curious sympathy between it and her
self, of which she was apparently ,un
conscious.
She was worth looking at, as she
stood there in her faded dress and hat
jostled by the brilliantly-clad passers,
and ignorant of their presence, the
child clinging to her neck, and her
chameleon eyes on the. p49ture., So'
utterly had the soul orthe greatmaster
passed into, hers, that the very expres-
sion of the groping face, the very en
treaty of the groping hands, were re
fleeted in her face and figure. Like
him on whom the curse had fallen, she
seemed to be feeling her way.
" My child, you like the picture."
It was a low voice—a sweet voice=
and clear, like a bell. Janet used
afterward to tell Reuben that it sound
ed as if some one had laid a soft hand
upon her forehead.
She started and looked up. The
voice belonged to a pale face, with
large, serious eyes. The lady's dress
was all of black.
"You like the picture," the voice
repeated.
"He— he can't see," said Janet,
coming slowly out of that'gioping
look, and closing her outstretched
hand. I
"No ; he is blind ; he is feeling his
way."
The girl repeated her words, as if
unconscious that she did so."
"Feeling *way. Yes. It's dark."
" You like pictures," the lady said.
Janet simply raised her eyes. It
was answer enough.
"So do I," said the gentle voice.
"It is something to be thankful for,
to like pictures, isn't it ?" And thin
both voice and face passed by with a
smile.
Janet stood like a statue, looking
after her, Baby Ben's chatter quite
unheeded. She looked until the mourn-
ful black dress was lost in the crowd;
then she turned slowly from 'the win
dow and walked way.
If I could tell you how the little
thing had;touched her!
They came to the Gardens after a
while, and she found a quiet seat by a
fountain, and let Baby Ben play about
in the shade. Presently she took a
piece of chalk from her pocket, and
began, in a half-unconscious way, to
draw lines with it upon the -painted
seat. While she worked, her face
changed and grew beautiful, the breath
coming through her parted lips in its
struggling way. The rough marks
slowly assumed a form : groping hands
first with large veins on them ; then a
groping face, with turban and bared
throat; at last a complete, crude copy
of the sorcerer—she bending over it,
her breath coming faster and sharper.
The passers began toPlook at her
curiously. One gentleman, a cm2nois-
sear in art, could not pass the thing
without an exclamation of surprise.
It stopped her, and she looked up, her
face flushing.
"My good girl," said the gentleman,
with a stare at her whose gentlemanli
ness might be questioned, " did you do
this ?"
"I suppose so," said Janet in her
sullen way.
"I declare if it were possible."
He bent over the chalk-marks curious
ly. " You can never have seen any
of Raphael's cartoons, of course ?"
He turned in surprise at her laugh.
"Don't know. Guess I haVen't
seen very much. Some folks have
chances, you know and some don't."
The gentleman arched his eyebrows
in delicate recoil from her shag. voice.
"My—my good girl, didAiny body
ever teach you to draw?"
" No," shortly ; " who should ?"
" Ton must have natural—it is
strange, strange. Do you often do
such things as that?" pointing to the
chalk marks.
" I'd be always doing 'em if I could,"
turning her eyes hungrily to the figure.
The man looked at her, and coughed.
"Well, well, my girl, I advise you
to let such things be. Keep at your
work—mill, I suppose ? Keep at
your mills; don't go to turning your
head with notions of things above you.
It makes the masses discontented, and
is a waste of time. Besides, you're
spoiling the seat. Ah ! Miss anger,
good-morning. Curious developments
one will find among the people. I've
been amusing—why—"
"Why, I am glad to see you again !"
Janet had raised her hand angrily,
to rub away her sorcerer ; but it fell,
and . the dark look died out of her eyes.
For the gentle voice she - had heard at
the shop-winthAr -was there again, and
the kindly woman's face.
"I am glad to see you again. You
are drawing something there ?" •
" Really—aw—quite a curiosity,
considering the circumstances," drawl
ed the connoisseur. " You were going
this way, `Miss Granger.?"
"Not just at present," said Miss
Granger, somewhat gravely, turning,
as.she spoke, to the vacant place on the
settee at Janet's side. The connoisseur
touched his hat, and left in some as
tonishment.
" What is this ? 0 1 the sorcerer 1"
began the lady, pointing with her
gloved hand to Janet's sketch.
"It's him I saw in the window.
Him that couldn't see. But I can't
make him. I don't know how—l
don't know how."
Her face had utterly changed. You
would not have thought, just then,
that she was capable of a rudeness.
And j ust then, that woman sitting
there beside her could. have done with
[ her anything she pleased.
"You would like to be taught to
draw, wouldn't you ?" with a certain
quick sympathy in her voice that
Janet had never heard in such a voice
before.
" I bet I would 1" in = her quick, man
like :way; - then flushing painfully.
" There! I didn't mean to say that.. I
mean I should like to."
But the lady did not appear in the
least shocked; she simply smiled, and
' her smile was very kind.
"If Yon,- could go tu the school of
design for a while, my—you' haven't
told me your name."
"Janet."
"If you could study a little while,
Janet; but that, I suppose, is impos-
I
sible ' " seeing it'in the girl's face.
"No; it's ILO use thinking about
such things. I guess they an't m.:.de
for folks like me." •
"I am sorry for you," said Miss
G - ranger simply.
The girl flushed to her forehead.
Her eyes, when she raised them, were
full of teats. None but Reuben had
'ever brought * tears to Janet's eyes
f before. And again, that woman could
have done with her anything she
pleased. Of that she did not think ;
she only knew that this girl was her
sister; that she had no helper; that
was all.
Your blind man was a very wicked
man • did you know it ?" after a si
lence. In the silence, the lady had'
laid her delicate hand upon Janet's
rough, bare one beside her, as if the
touch might say what words could
not.
" Was that what they made him
blind for ?" sharply.
" Yes."
Janet's mouth hardened.
"They hadn't any business tot He
couldn't help. it. I should like to
know if they thought he'd be any
better when he couldn't see anything."
The hidden meaning of the words
the other quite comprehended. For
she said—and when she said it there
were quick tears in her own eyes:
"My poor child, try to see. God
will do the rest."
" Will he ?" eagerly, "if I try ? But
I do try. I can't. I can't see any
thing. I've been tormented all my
life, and I suppose I've got to be tor
mented all my life, and I'm as. wicked
as the- 3, stopping short.
The answer came very softly.
" I understand, Janet. The poor
are not the only ones in the world
who suffer. Try to remember that."
Janet glanced at her mourning gar
ments, and said nothing.
"And if you will only try to see—
not everything, but a little; just enough
to do right by, Janet. God is real,
and heaven is real. It is worth trying
hard for."
A lady passing stopped then, and
called Miss Granger's name. She rose
regretfully.
"I wish I Could see you again; but
I am a stranger here, and leave town
tomorrow. I wonder if you will re
member what I said—some time when
you are in great trouble."
"I'll remember it," said Janet, in
her concise way, "just as long as I
live. And I'll remember you.'
The lady smiled, and took her hand
to say a gentle good-bye, Baby Ben
came crawling up to Janet's knee,
fretting to go home.
" That's Baby Ben," said Janet,
proudly, "my little brother." •
"You must love him very much.
May I have a kiss ?"
And then she took the child in her
arms, and touched his soft cheek with
her lips.
workingJauet looked after her, her s face
d
at her elb s o t tv ra u ng n e h l e y e.de ß d a . bY P ß res en e4:trsb e e
took him up, touching her finger to
his cheek with a certain whimsical
air that seemed to be struggling with
tears.
"There! If anybody ever kisses
you after this, that an't fit to, I guess
I'll know it 1"
When Reuben came up presently,
be found her in such gentle and tender
moods as even he had never, seen.
"And 0, Reuben P' she said, in tell
ing her eager story, "I'll hunt after
that God—l'll hunt after him just as
hard as I can hunt."
So they met and parted—these - two
women whose sisterhood bridged all
chasms; who might have learned to
thank God for each other—the one
for her soul redeemed; the other for
his blessing, in that he had given her
this jewel in her waiting crown.
tor tijt Atitar Strtit,s,
FAMILIAR, TALKS-2D SERIES. XIV
BY REV. EDWARD PAYSON HAMMOND.*
WHAT LITTLE CHRISTIANS CAN DO
FOR JESUS.
A few weeks since I wrote to the
dear little readers of the AMERICAN
PRESBYTERIAN, of how a little girl of
about eight years was used by God to
lead her father and mother to the Sa
viour; and now I want to tell you of
what three children did for their
father, who had never been a praying
man.
One day, when coming home from
a meeting, one of the little ones said :
" I wish we could get our father to
come to these meetings." "How can
we do it ?" "I will tell you," said the
little boy ; "we will all pray for him."
" But where can we get a good place
to pray for him ?" "Why, you go
into the parlor, where father hardly
ever goes, and I will go off, out to the
barn," said the praying little boy.
So into the parlor the two girls
went;, and knelt down and began to
pray. While they vi,ere pleading most
earnestly, the father, who was a farm
er, came up from the field, and instead
of going round the back way, started
to pass right through the parlor. But'
as he opened the door quietly, they
did not hear him. He listened a min
ute, and felt he could not go through
that room. Away he went, out to the
barn, and there too, up in the haymow,
he heard his boy's voice in pleading
prayer. As the little fellow slid down
from the mow, his father put his hands
on his head, and with tears said : "0 !
pray for me; I will go to the meeting."
And so he did; and what is better
still, I think he came to Jesus and got
a new heart, s 9 that he loves to pray
himself.
Does your father, my dear child,
love the Saviour 7 . If not, wont you
pray for him ? God will answer your
prayer. He loves to listen to the
prayers of little children.
In Peoria, Illinois, a few days since,
I asked all the children to bring a
text from the Bible. Two sisters and
a brother, in one envelope, brought
not only a verse, but also some nice
letters. You will see that each of
thesd seems to have a new, praying
heart. 0 ! I hope they will pray for
all their friends, till they come and
love the dear Saviour, who bled on
the cross for their sins. If you could
only see the letters, just as they
spelled them, it would interest you a
great deal more.
Their father, you see, is not like the
father of the other praying children of
whom I have just told you. I saw
him, and he told me he was glad his
children loved the Saviour.
I• read these letters to more than a
thousand children and youth last Fri
day, and they seemed much interested
with them, and I. hope they will inter
est you.
Each of these, you see, "loves to
pray." If you, my dear child, are a
Christian, you too will love to pray.
You will not say your prayers, but
you will really pray. But I will not
keep you longer from these children's
letters.
We will first see what the little boy,
of only nine summers, says about the
way he became a Christian, and got a
praying heart.
I have been to all of the children's meet
ings but two, and I love Jesus now. Tuesday
evening I felt I was a sinner. Mamma asked
one of the ministers to pray with me, and he
did so. And after the minister had prayed
with me, I felt that my sins,.which were
many, were alrforgiven. And now I feel very
happy, and 1 love to read the Bible better
than - I did before, and nove to pray better
tha7i I did before." •My verse is : lave
them that love me, and those that seek me
early shall find me." Good-bye.
Virnuaz B—.
I am nine years old.
Little Fannie, of eleven years, says ,
" I kive to pray; I pray three Eines a
day." None can tell how much good
she may do by such a life of prayer.
For a long time I have wished to be a
Christian; but I did not find the way to
Jesus till after I went to three of your chil
dren's meetings. There a kind lady spoke to
me; and after praying at home, and dear
papa telling me to give myself to Jesus, I
became very happy. Now I like to read my
Bible, and I try to love him more and more
every day. I can't do enough for dear Jesus.
I like to sins , "I love Jesus, yes I do.' , .1
love to pray, and I pray three times a day.
Will you please to pray for me? My verse
is: "And in that day thou shalt say I will
Praise thee.; though thou vast angry with
me, thine anger is turned away and thou
comfortest me."--Isa. xii. 4.
Your little friend, Parana
Eleven years old.
Lizzie says: "1 NOW LOVE TO BEAD
NT BIBLE AND TO PRAY."
*Copyright secured.
I have seen the smiling faces of
these two sisters and their brother,
and they look very happy. It is be
cause they have praying hearts, and
are trying to do all they can for Jesus,
who has done so much for them.
I attended all your meetings but two.
Tuesday evening I felt very unhappy, and I
wanted to love Jesus. After the meeting
was over .my Sunday-school teacher prayed
with me, but still I did not feel happy.
Thursday afternoon my mother went with me
to • the meeting, and after it was over she
asked nieliflft;woulducitAike to have one
of thenninistersray - Aritirmey but F told
her that - I would rather have papa pray with
me , at home. Ah t I know why I did not
want tio pniYhd withition"; it was because
some of my playmates were' only a few seats
in front of me, and I was afraid that some of
them would laugh at me. On my reaching
home, I felt very sorry for not staying, and
when I went to bed that night I prayed that
God-woulcl-forgive.me'for doing such a thing.
I did not 'find' J esus until Saturday afternoon.
After the -meeting, some-,one prayed with
me, and then I felt that all my sins were
washed away by Jesus' blood. And when I
went home, dear papa and , mamma had a
little prayer-meeting with us, and we were
all very happy. Ilove now to read my Bible
and to- pray. My verse is: "I waited pa
tiently for the Lord, and he inclined unto me
and heard my cry."--Psa. xl: 1. -
I am your little friend; thirteen years of
age, B—.
If you, my little child, have learned
to Ipve the dear Jesus,. I hope you will
pray for all yourfriends:and,playmates
till they too learn to love and trust
Him. He will answer your prayers,
for His voids are,
."ASK AND YE
SHALL REGET'VE.I7
I have just been standing on the
spot where President 'Lincoln asked
the people of the United States to
pray for him.. And, they: did pray for
him; and Ipan but think their prayers
were answered.
Yes, God always answers, prayer.
It may not be in just the way we ex
pect,, but He does hear and answer
those who pray with faith in Jesus'
name.
SPRINGIPIXLI), ILL., April, 1866.
TWO SIDES. TO .A TALE.
"What's the matter ?" said Groviler
to the black cat, as-Ithe sat mamping
on the step of the .kitchen door.
"Mater enough," said theoat, turn
ing her head an way..., " Onr cook
is very fond of talking, of hanging me.
I wish beartily,some one. would hang
her."
"Why, what is the matter ?" repeat
ed Growler.
"Hasn't she beaten me, and called
me a thief, and threatened' to be the
death of me ?" •
" Dear, dear 1" said Growler ; " pray,
what has brought it about ?"
"0, the .merest trifle—absolutely
nothing; it is her temper. All the
servants coinplain of it. I wonder
they haven't hanged her long ago."
"Well, you see," said Growler,
"cooks are awkward things to hang;
you and I might be managed much
more easily."
"Not a drop of milk have I had
this day," said the black cat; "and
such a pain in my side 1!'
"But what," said Growler—" what
immediate cause.?"
"Haven't I told you'?" said the black
cat pettishly ; "it's her tempei—what
I have had to suffer' from it I Every
thing she breaks she lays to me—sach
injustice l—it is unbearable
Growler was quite indignant ; but,
being of a reflective tarn, after the first
gust of wrath bad passed, he asked,
"Bat was, there..,7*9 -particular cause
this morninigg
"She chose to be very angry be
cause I—l offended her," said the cat,
" How ? may I ask," gently inquir
ed Growler.
"0 ; nothing worth telling—a mere
mistake of mine."
Growler looked at her with such a
questioning expression, that she was
compelled to say, " I took the wrong
thing for my breakfast."
"0 !" said. Growler, much enligh
tened.
" Why, the fact was," said the black
cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
I knocked down a dish.; and not
knowing exactly what it was, I smelt
it, and just tasted it; and it was rather
nice, and"--
" Then you finished it ?" suggested
Growler.
" Well, I should, I believe, if that
cook hadn't come in. As it was I left
the head." ,
"The head ofwhat ?" said Growler.
-"Haw inquisitive you are!" said
he black cat.
"Nay, but I should like to know,"
said Growler.
" Well, then, of some grand fish that
was meant for dinner."
"Then," said . Growler,, "say what
you please; but now I've heard both
sides of th story, I only wonder she
didn't hang yon" —Original _Pales.
SMART LITTLE GIRL..
A gentleman in Kentucky worth
$lOO,OOO was present at a meeting to
solicit aid for suffering Virginians.
He wepcprofueely, and when the plate
went round he gave fifty cents, where
upon a little' girl sitting near said,
" that was a heap of crying for a little
giving."
NEVER put much confidence in such
as put no confidence in others. A
man prone to suspect evil is mostly
looking in his neighbor for what he
'sees in himself. As to the pure, all
things are pure, even so to the impure,
all things are impure.—Hare.