gamic Cita THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. NT JOHN KEBI.S. The following version of the Twenty-third Psalm is said to have been a favorite with the author. It was sung over his own grave, with touching effect, we are told. It is a faithful echo of David's Harp. My Shepherd is the Lord ; I know No care, or craving need : He lays ms where the green herbs grow Along the quiet mead. He leads me where the waters glide, The waters soft and still, And homeward He will gently guide My wandering heart and will. He brings me on the righteous path, E'en for his name's dear sake• What if in vale and shade of death lify dreary way I take ? I fear no ill, for Thou, 0 God With me for ever art; Thy shepherd's staff, Thy guiding rod, 'Tis they console my heart. For me Thy board is richly spread In sight of all my foes • Fresh oil of Thine emba lms my head, My cup of grace o'erflows. 0, nought but love and mercy wait Through all my life on me, And I within my Father's gate For long bright years shall be. THE WILD DUCK SHOOTER. BY JEAN INGELOW The charity of the rich is much to be commended, but how beautiful the charity of the Call to mind• the xcsoldest day you ever experienced• Thihk of the bitter wind and driving snow; think how you shook and shivered—how the sharp white particles were driven up against your face—how within doors, the carpets were lifted like billows along the floors, the wind howled and moaned in the chimneys, windows creaked, doors rattled, and every now and then heavy lumps of snow came thundering down with a dull weight from the roof. Now hear my story. In one of the broad, open plains of Lincolnshire, there is a long, ,reedy sheet of water, a favorite resort of wild ducks. At its northern extremity stand two mud cottages, old and out of repair. One 'bitter, bitter night, when the snow lay three feet deep on the ground, and a cutting east wind was driving it about, and whistling in the dry fro zen reeds by the water's edge, , and swinging the bare willow trees till their branches swept the ice, an old woman sat spinning in one of these cottages, before a moderately cheerful fire. Her kettle was singing on the coals ; she had a reed candle, or home-made rush light on her table, but the full moon shone in, and was the brighter light of the two. These two cottages were far from any road, or any other habitations ; the old woman was, therefore, surpris ed, as she sat drawing out her thread, and crooning an old northcountry song, to hear a sudden knock at the door. It was loud and impatient, not like the knock of her neighbors in the other cottage; but the door was bolt ed, and the old woman rose, and shuf fling to the window, looked out, and saw a shivering figure, apparently that of a youth, " Travers 1" said the old woman, sententiously ; " tramping folk be not wanted here ;" so saying, she went back to the fire without deigning to answer the door. The youth, upon this, tried the door' and called to her to beg adniittance. She heard him rap the snow from his, shoes against her lintel, and , again knocked as if he thought she was deaf, and he should surely gain admittance if he could only make ber hear. The old woman, surprised at this audacity, went to the casement, and with, all the pride of possession, opened it and inquired his business. " Good won►'an," the stranger began, " I only want ; a seat at your fire." " Nay," said the old woman, giving effect to her words by her uncouth dia lect; " thoult get no shelter here; Tye naught to give to beggars, a dirty wet critter," she continued, wrathfully, slamming-to the window. " It's a wonder where he found any water, too, leeing it freezes so hard, a body can get none for the kettle, saving what's broken up with the hatchet." On this the beggar turned hastily away. And at this point in his narrative, the person who told it to me, stopped and said, "Do you think the old woman'was very much to blame ?" " She might have acted more kind ly," I replied ; " but why do you ask ?" " Because," said he, " I haYe heard her conduct so much reflected on by some who would have thought nothing of it, if it had not been for the conse quences." "She might have turned him away less roughly," I observed. " That is true," he answered ; " but in any case, I think, though we might give them food or money, we should hardly invite beggars to sit by the fire." " Certainly not," I replied ; " and this woman could not tell that the beg gni Was honest." !`41i . 0," said he ; " but I must go on with • iny narrative." The stranger turned 'very hastily from the door, and waded throg.gh the deep snow toward the other ! cottage. The bitter wind helped to drive him toward it It' looked no less poor than the first ; and, when he had tried the door, found it bolted, and knocked twice without at tracting attention, his heart sank with in him. His hand was so numbed ' with cold, that he had made scarcely any noise; he tried again. A rush candle was burning within, and a matronly-looking woman sat before the fire. She held an infant in her arms, and had dropped asleep ; but his third knock roused her, and, wrapping her apron around the child, she opened the door a very little way, and demanded what he wanted. " Good woman," the youth began, " I have had the misfortune to fall into the water this bitter night, and am so numbed I can scarcely walk." The woman gave him a sudden, earnest look, and then sighed. " Come in,P she said ; " thou art so nigh the size of my Jem, I thought at first it was him come home from sea." The youth stepped across the thresh hold, trembling with cold and wet ; and no wonder, for, his clothes were completely enciaerin wet mud, and the water drippedlrlira them with every step he took it atilded floor. "Thou art in a:tarry plight," said the woman, " and it be= two miles to the nighest house ; come and kneel down before the fire ; thy teeth chatter so pitifully, I can scarcely bear to hear them." She looked at him more attentively, and saw that he was a mere boy, not more,than sixteen years of age. Her motherly leart was touched for him. " Art hungry'?" she' asked, turning to the table ; " thou art wet to the skin. What halt thou been doing ?" " Shooting wild ducks," said the boy. 0 1" said his hostess, "thou. art one of the keepers' boys, then, I reckon ?" He followed the direction of her eyes, and saw two portions of bread set upon the table, with a small piece of bacon on each. " My master be very late," she observed, for charity did not make her use elegant language, and by her mas ter she meauther.husband; " but thou art welcome ,to my ,bit and. sup, for I was waiting for him ; may be it will put a little warmth:in thee to eat and drink." So saying, she took up a mug of beer from the hearth, and pushed it toward him with her share of the supper. " Thank you," said the boy; "but :I am so wet I am making quite a pool before your fire, with the drippings from my clothes." " Ay, thou art wet, indeed," said the woman, and, rising again, she went to an old box in which she began to search, and presently came to the fire with a perfectly clean check shirt in her hand, and a tolerably good suit of clothes. " There," said she, showing them with no small pride, " these be my master's Sunday clothes, and if thou wilt be very careful of them, I'll let the wear them till thine be dry." She then explained that she was I going to put her " bairn" to bed, and proceeded up a ladder into the room above, leaving the boy to array him self in these respectable and desirable garments. When she came down her guest had dressed. himself in the' laborer's clothes ; he had had time to warm him self, and he was eating and drinking with hungry relish. He had thrown his muddy clothes in a heap upon the floor, and as she proceeded to lift them up, she said, " Ah 1 lad, lad, I ,doubt thy head has been under water ; thy poor mother would have been sorely frightened, if she could haVe seen thee awhile ago." " Yes," said the boy ; and, in imagi nation, the cottage-dame saw this sad mother, a care-worn, hard-working creature like herself; while the youth ful guest saw, in imagination, a beau tiful and courtly lady ; and both saw the same love, the same anxiety, the same terror at sight of a lonely boY struggling in the moonlight through breaking ice, with no one to help him, catching at the frozen reeds, and then creeping up,“shivering and benumbed, to a cottageidoor. But , eVen c tis she stooped, the, woman forgot her imagination,_ for she hfld taken a waistco at into her hands, such as had never'p encil-case between them before ; a gold pencil-case dropped from the pocket, and, on the floor, among a heap of mud, that covered the outer garments, lay a white shirt-sleeve, so white, indeed, and fine, that she thought if could hardly e worn but by a squire. She glanced from the clothes to the owner. He had thrown down his cap, and his fairbeurly hair and broad fore head, convinced her that he was of gentle birth; but while she hesitated to sit down, he At a chair for her, and said, with boyish frankness, "I say, what a lonely place this is 1 if you had notlet me in, the water would have all frozen on me before I reached home. Catch me duck-hunting again by myself 1" It is very cold sport that, sir," said the woman. They, mu gentleman assented most readily,,,Arit asked if he might stir the fire. " And welcome, sir," said*the woman. She felt a curiosity to know who he was, and lie partly satisfied her by remarking7that he was staying at Dean Hanoi, house about five miles off, Lidding that in the morning, he had Awoken a hole in the ice near the decoy, but it had iced over so fast, that in the THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MAY 24, 1866 dusk he had missed it and fallen in, for it would not bear him. He bad made some land-marks, and taken every proper precaution, but he sup posed the sport had excited him so much that, in the moonlight, he had passed them by. He then told her of his attempt to get shelter in the other cottage. " Sir," said the woman, " if you had said you were a gentleman---." The boy laughed. " I don't think I knew it, my good woman," he replied, "my senses were so benumbed; for I was some time struggling at the waters edge among the broken ice, and then I believe I was nearly an hour creep ing up to your cottage door. I re member it all rather indistinctly, but as soon as I felt the fire and drank the warm beer, I was a different creature." While they still talked, the husband came in, and, while he was eating his supper, they agreed that he should walk to Dean Hall, and let its inmates know of the gentleman's safety ; and when he was gone they made up the fire with all the coal that remained to that poor household, and the poor woman crept up to bed and. left her guest CO lie down and rest before it. In the gray of the dawn the laborer returned, with a servant leading a horse, and bringing a fresh suit of clothes. The young gentleman took his leave with many thanks, slipping three half crowns into the woman's hand, probably all the money he had about him. And I must not forget to men tion that he kissed the baby, for when she tells the story, the mother always adverts to that circumstance with great pride, adding, that her child being as "clean as wax, was quite fit to be kissed by anybody!" "Missis," said the husband, as they stood in the doorway, looking after their guest; " who dost think that be ?" " I don't know," answered the Missis. "'Then I'll just tell thee; that be young LordW ; so thou mayest be a proud woman, thou sits and talks with lords, and asks them in to supper —ha, ha I" So saying, her master shouldered his spade and went his way, leaving her clinking the three half crowns in her hand, and considering what she should do with them. Her neighbor from the other cottage presently stepped in, and when she heard the tale and saw the money, her heart was ready to break with envy and jealously. "0 ! to think that good luck should have come to her door, and she should have been so foolish as to turn it away. Seven shil lings and sixpence for a morsel of food and a night's shelter—why, it was nearly a week's wages !" So there, as they both supposed, the matter ended, and the next week the frost was sharper than ever. Sheep were frozen in the 'fenny fields, and poultry on their perches, but the good woman had walked to the nearest town and bought a blanket. It was a wel come addition to their bed covering, and it was many a long year since they bad been so comfortable. But it chanced one day at noon, that looking out at her casement, she spied three young gentlemen skating along the ice toward her cottage. They sprang on to the bank, took off their skates, and made for her door. The young nobleman informed her that he had had such a cold, he could not come to see her before. "He spoke as freely and pleasantly," she observed,' in telling the story, " as if I had been a lady, and no less 1 and, then he brought a parcel out of his pocket, and I've been over to. B--,' he says 'and bought you a book for a keep-sake, and I hope you will accept it." And then they all talked as pretty as could be for a matter of ten minutes, and went away. So I waited till my master came home, and we opened the parcel, and there was a .fine Bible inside, all over gold and red morocco, and my name and his name written inside ; and, bless him I a ten pound note doubled down over the names. I'm sure, when I thought he was a poor, forlorn creature, he was kindly welcome. So my master laid out part of the money in tools, and we rented a garden, and he goes out on market dayp to sell what we grow; so uo w, thank God, we want for nothing." This is how she generally concluded the little history, never failing to add that the young lord kissed her baby. " But," said my friend, " I have not told you what I thought the best part of the anecdote. When this poor Christian was asked what induced her to take in a perfect stranger, and trust him with the best clothing her home afforded, she answered simply, " Well, I saw him shivering and shaking, so I thought, thou shalt come in here for the sake of Him that had not where to lay His head.' The old woman at the other cottage may open her door every night of her future life to some forlorn beggar, but it is all but certain that she will never open it to a nobleman in disguise. Let us do good, not to receive more good in return, but as an evidence of gratitude for what has been already bestowed. In a few words, let it be " all for love, and nothing for reward." " DIDN'T you tell me you could hold the plow ?" said the farmer to an Irishman he •had taken on trial. "Be aisy, now," says Pat. " How could I'hould it an' two horses pullin' it away ? Just stop the (Tatars and I'll hould it for ye." HIGHEST OF ALL. " Well, I'll do something yet to show them that I'm somebody. You wait. Jary Williams shall see it too, the mean little chap." "Don't be angry with Jarvis, Arty; he is a kind-hearted, good boy. More than that, I believe he's a Christian. If you failed, and he won the prize, you know it's not because he has tried to injure you; and he would do you a kindness any time, if he had the op portunity, I'm sure." "I'll have my name above his yet, Marion • see if I don't. I'm bound for Martin's Ledge." And with a dark face and a darker heart, Arty Fisher left his gentle sister, who had failed to soften his hard feelings toward his classmate. • Martin's Ledge was the name of a huge rook that formed one side of a hill which was a favorite play-ground of the boys ; and the larger of them often had trials of skill, or rather of strength, in climbing its steep front. It was no easy,task, for .there was not very much for either hands or feet to get hold of, and the rock stood nearly upright, and stretched away up some sixty feet.; so that there was danger in the sport. Here and there upon its sunburnt and storm-beaten face were initial letters rudely cut, fifteen, twen ty, thirty feet from its base—memorial marks of the climbers; and one could be seen fully forty feet high, where Tommy Black, who was always more venturesome than the rest, and who afterward went to sea, had managed to leave a large T, but who did not wait to add his other initial. Tommy never would own that he felt dizzy, and didn't, dare to stay longer, though the boys said it was so. It was Wednesday afternoon; and many of the boys were, , as usual, at play about Martin's Ledge. Arty Fisher joined them. A hammer show ed its handle from his pocket, and clinked against the iron chisel inside, telling that he was all ready to climb. "Now, boys, let's see if I can't put my mark highest of all. I'll be first here, anyhow ! Who cares for Jary Williams ?" They all knew what had happened at school. They knew Arty's vexation at his failure, and at the success of Jarvis, and they also knew the un manly spirit he had shown ; but none of them wished to quarrel with him. "Go ahead Arty 1" cried several voices as he started. He went rapidly up the ledge at first; but there was less and. less to hold upon as he climbed higher, so that he got on slowly. Twenty-five feet, thirty, thirty five—the boys knew from old marks when he reached those points—forty, forty-one ; and the boys shouted, " Highest of all, Arty 1" The face of the rock was almost without a break here : still he held on, and gained one foot more ; forty-two—he was two feet higher than the bravest. Then he managed to get out his tools, and cling ing to the rock, began to make his mark. Slowly and painfully he work ed on that letter A; for there was dan ger every moment that he would lose his balance, and fall backward. It was very hard. His limbs trembled under him. He glanced down for a moment, and his foot slipped. Down over the steep rock he fell to the gaavel-bed below. He had made his mark highest of all ; but it was unfin ished Arty was carried home, bruised and bleeding and unconscious. He came to himself to find that a broken arm and. other injuries were the result of the day's work. He learned, too, that little Jarvis Williams had been, the first to run for help, and to bring The surgeon ; and that, with the heart of a brother, he had lingered near for hours after the accident, offering any service in his power. And then he re membered his sister's words, "I believe Jarvis is a Christian." The next day, Jarvis came to see him ; and though he spoke hopefully, and tried to comfort his suffering play mate, Arty saw the tears in his eyes, and knew they were from sympathy. And then Arty "came to himself" in another way : he held out his hand, " Forgive me Jarvis I" That was all he said, but it came from a penitent heart, and a loving word in reply from Jarvis made them friends. And so, through Arty's long confinement, Jarvis came every day to do what he could to cheer him ; bringing his books and telling him all about the boys and their play. "Jarvis," said Arty one day, " what made you so kind to me when you knew I hated you?" " Don't, Arty; you didn't hate me; or, at least, you wouldn't have, if you knew how I telt. And how could I help coming to see you, when you were hurt so badly ? Besides, Arty," —and Jarvis's eyes were glistening now—" I have given my heart to Jesus ; I'm trying to be a Christian ; and 0, Arty I if you would only try with me, how much we could help each other." When Arty's sister came in, the boys were talking softly, but very earnestly. There is a place in Arty's heart where are written the names of all his playmates whom he loves best, and on that record the name of Jarvis Wil for l j i a a r m vis s sta cou n g ds uer ‘ e ‘h d ig b h y est lo o v f e, all," and the two boys walk in love together, /Tuck Paul ira Child at Home. far fib, FAMILIAR TALKS-3D SERIES. 111. BY REV. EDWARD PAYSON RAYMOND.* THE PERSECUTED BIBLE READERS OF MADEIRA. I must tell you, my dear little friends, something more in this num ber about the persecuted wanderers from the Island of Madeira. A few days ago, while riding in the cars near Springfield, 111., I met one of these Portuguese, who was cruelly driven away from home and. friends by the persecuting Catholics of Ma deira. I wish you could have seen him, and heard him talk, as I did, about what he suffered for Jesus. He waq but a mere boy when, in the Island of Madeira, he first heard Dr. Salley read out of the Bible about the Saviour's love in giving Himself to die in our stead. Though he had never been to Sunday-sehool, and had hardly ever heard of Jesus, yet, as soon as he heard of what Jesus had suffered in our stead, he at once trust ed in Him, and was made a new crea ture. When he thought of how Jesus left his happy home in heaven, and was willing to come as an exile into this world, to suffer for us, he felt .that he could never do enough for Him in return. His father was a rich Papist, able to give him all he needed; yet he loved Jesus and his cause, even more than father or mother. As he found that he was almost sure of being killed by those who hated the Saviour, if he re mained in the Island of Madeira, he fled away, with many others, on board a ship to this country. He told ine that he once had to stay three weks in a little, low cellar, to save his life. With a face lit up with joy, he said to me, as we ,Here riding along in the cars, "I gave up a home in the beau tiful Island of Madeira, for Christ's sake; but He has promi se d me a more beautiful one in heaven. And Pam so glad," said he, "that I live in a free country, where I can read the Bible as much as I pfease. lam happier with the Bible and Jesus, as mine, than with all the money of Madeira. And God has answered my prayer foi those in Madeira who drove me a way, and some of them have since become Christians, and fled to this country. My own father and brother were among the number." I might tell you of many other per secuted Portuguese whom I saw and talked with in Springfield; but I want to tell you something now of the hard work these people had to get away from their island home, off in the At lantic Ocean. Dr. Kalley himself, who had made so many sacrifices to teach these poor people the way to be saved through faith in Christ, came near being killed in trying to escape from the island. He had spent eight long years in efforts to do the people good; he had been a physician both to tlieir souls and bodies; he had cured the sickness of hundreds and perhaps thousands of them. Above all, he had told them of the Great Physician, able to cure sin-sick souls. Wasn't it strange, my little friends, that they drove so good a man from their island? But 0! not half so strange as that wicked men should crucify the Sa- viour and seek to drive Him from this world. Dr. Salley gave up a pleasant home with a library worth thousands of dol lars, and all he had, to save his life. But Jesus left his glorious home in heaven, came to this world, where He knew He would be murdered, and gave Himself tip a sacrifice for our sins, to save our lives. He was not obliged to do this; but such was his love for us, that He was willing to do it. His words in John. x. 18 are: "I lay down my life. I have power to lay it down, J. have power to take it again." The flock that were left as sheep without a shepherd, after Dr. Kelley was driven away, were treated with every cruelty ; their houses were broken into and plundered, their steps were watched by spies, hundreds of them had to flee away to the caves in the mountains, and were there hunted down, and, like sheep, killed by these fiercer wolves. But they were true to their Saviour, they were more ready to suffer for Him than to deny Him. The priests gave orders to have all their Bibles seized and thrown into the fire ; but they contrived different ways to keep them. Some had to bury them in the earth, others wrapped them in a cloth and hung them in trees where the leaves were thick. It is no wonder they were glad there was some way of escape from their wicked enemies. Two hundred of these were kindly received on board of a ship called the "William of Glas gow," which brought them to this side of the Atlantic Ocean. Among the two hundred passengers of the ship "William," was one family of Romanists, who had persecuted these very Bible readers who were fleeing for their lives. They were very poor, and all on board pitied them; and though these poor, perse- cuted ones had but little which they could call their own, they seemed glad to share it with those who had before hated them. When asked why they did this, they , said it was their wish to obey the Lord's command— . * Copyright secured. "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you." It may seem strange to you, my dear little friends, that these people should have been hated so much be cause they loved to read in the Bible about the Saviour ; but so it was. The priests found that whenever the Por tuguese read the Bible, they no longer came to them to get their sins forgiven, but went straight to God, in Jesus' name, for pardon. When a company of them arrived in this country, fifty eight of their number signed a paper, which I copy for you. It explains more fully the reasons why they were so much persecuted. It was not written for children; but still I think you will understand it. " We, the undersigned, are all natives of Madeira. We were born and educated in the Roman Catholic Church; we have always been in the habit of.attending mass, confes sion, and various ceremonies, feasts and fasts of the Church. We knew of no other way of worship, because we had never seen nor read the word of God. We did not know that there was such a book as the Bible, in which was found the history of Jesus Christ and of the apostles, until Dr. Kelley began to circulate it in Madeira. In reading the Bibles we received from him, we learned; for the first time, that we must be saved by the blood of Jesus, and not by penance, and mass, and purgatory. We found that the Virgin and saints are not mediators, for there is only one mediator between God and man, and that is. Christ Jesus. When webegan to rejoice in Jesus, as our only Mediator, and to read the Bible with joy; then we were for bidden by the priests and the Government to read it. Thepriests began to take our Bibles and to burn them. Many of the Bible read ers were thrown into prison. Some of us have been in prison about two years, and others three years. We have been driven from our homes and our country—have wan dered in mountains and slept in eaves—be cause we read the word of God and desired to live according_to its precepts, and for no other reason. We were compelled, by the priests and Government in Madeira, to flee away and leave all oar goods, and houses and lands, and on this account we are desti tute in a strange country. To the truth of all these things we are prepared to testify before all the world." Some of these very people have now lived for years in Springfield, and" their good lives have proved the trath'of, the above words. 'llow thankful should you be, my little friend, that you live in a land of Bibles and Sabbath=schools, and that you can read about the Saviour, who loved us and died for us; as often as you choose. I hope that, like a good many of these dear little Portuguese children in SpringAeld, you will learn to trust Jesus, and then you will meet them in heaven. Or, better still, I hope you have come to Jesus, and so, by believing in Him, got a new, "Bible-loving heart." And if so, you will understand these simple little lines, which have just come into my mind. TEE PRECIOUS BIBLE. I love the precious Bible, Which God himself has given To teach the old and children too The way that leads to heaven. I love the precious Bible ; 'Tis full of life and truth; 'Twill guide me from the path of sin, And shield my tender youth. I the precious Bible; It tells me of a Friend Who died to save my soul from death ; He'll keep me to the end. I love the precious Bible ; • It speaks of Jesus' love, Who for my soul was crucified, That I might live above. I love the precious Bible ; No wond er - people die Rather than partwith that dear book, Which came from God on high. I love the precious Bible; So did the Portuguese Who left their native island To read it all in peace. They loved the precious Bible More than all earth beside; And sooner than part with it, In caves they had to hide. They loved the precious Bible, And kept it, though they died ; They felt they ne'er could learn enough Of Christ, the Crucified. 0, yes, I love the Bible; Lord, help me to obey All that is written in thy word, And read it every day. SPRINGFIELD, ILL., April, 1866. SLEEPING UNDER A BURNING TREE. A couple of gentlemen living on Emil' Rives, in Louisiana, were out hunting hogs, when, becoming tired, they dismounted, and hitching their horses, lay down to sleep near an old tree on fire. Eight days after this, a neighbor was hunting in the vicinity, when he found that the tree had fallen across the head of one and across the chest of the other. Both were dead. One of the horses had broken loose, but the other was still standing where he had been tied.--Journal. Nothing is more common than this recklessness. Myriads, sleep under a burning tree every day of their lives. There is no man who uses intoxicating drinks habitually, or even when oc casion offers, but sleeps under a tree that is steadily burning off at the root and it is leaning in the direction where he lies. And every man that lies down to sleep with his sins unforgiven, sleeps where the burning tree will crush him, sooner or later, unless be remove his sleeping-place. Moldering skeletons of the dead lie thick around him. Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead !—Boston Recorder• THE attention of a little girl being called to a rosebush, on whose topmost stem the eldest rose was fading, but below and around which three beautiful crimson buds were just unfolding their charms, she artlessly exclaimed to her brother: " See, Willie, these little buds have just awakened ill time to kiss their mother before she died-
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