E. g
&amitg eirtte.
THE SCULPTOR AND HIS CHILD,
" Come in, my little girl," the sculptor said,
Opening his studio door at early morn.
The sunrise glow was on her curly head,
As eagerly she crossed the flower-decked
lawn.
Holding the corners of her apron tight
In dimpled fingers, with a sunny, smile,
She showed it furl of buds and blossoms bright,
Rose, jasmine, lily, in one fragrant pile.
"Enter, my child," he said. Her little feet
Paused on the threshold;' and her earnest
eyes
Gazed on his secret work of love complete,
Wits childlike pleasure and most sweet sur
prise.
It was a mild, majestic, graceful form,
With outspread hands. The rosy sunrise light
Flushed the pure cheek with life-like tints and
warm,
And crowned the n forehead with a halo bright.
With reverent mien the little one drew near,
And looked up in the face so calm and sweet;
Quick to her eyes there sprang the sudden tear,
Her blossoms dropped upon the statue's feet.
A deeper feeling than that glad surprise
Bent low and reverently that fair young head;
At last she raised those tearful, earnest eves—
" Our dear Lord Jesus Christ!" she softly
said.
Her father pressed her to his raptured heart !
" Master I" he cried, " no further praise I
ask ;
My child hath kn ONVII and named Thee who Thou
art, _
Thus Thou dust crown and own my humble
task 1"
A thousand hearts that face divine has thrilled
With its serene and most majestic grace;
Unnumbered thoughts with loving reverence
filled
Since child and father saw Christ face.to face.
In the cathedral's hushed and solemn gloom.
That sculptured form shines still divinely
sweet;
And when the lilies and the roses bloom, ,
The children strew them at its marble feet.
—Hours at Home.
RALPH NORTON.
A STORY OF QUEEN MARY'S TIME
One summer evening, many years
ago, a weary foot traveller was toiling
slowly up a steep, dusty road, in the
southern part of England. In one
hand he grasped a stout oaken staff,
the companion of many a long mile;
in the other he bore small bundle,
tied up in a handkerchief.
At length he reached' the summit of
the hill he had been climbing, and saw
far below, nestling amid the trees, the
white houses of the little village which
he called his home.
With joyful steps he now pressed
onward, and just as he reached the en
trance of the long, straggling village
street, a little boy ran forward with a
shout of joy, and clasped his father's
hand. •
"Bless thee, my little one," said the
wayfarer, fondly stroking•the child's
shining hair; "wast looking out for
father ?"
"That was I," answered the child,
laughing, " and so was mother. See,
yonder she stands in the doorway,
with baby Guy in her arms."
"Now, thanks to Our. Blessed Lady 1"
said the wife devoutly, as he reached
the door, " you have returned safe."
Another little one now pressed for
ward to share his father's caresses, and
even baby Guy laughed For joy as he
sprang into the traveller's outstretched
arms.
"Where is Hubert ?" asked the fa
ther, glancing around the 'room in
search of his eldest born.
" He will be here anon," answered
the mother. " I sent him to do an er
rand. But how have you prospered,
Harry ?"
" Well," he answered, "I sold all
the goods brought frctm home. See,"
and untying a corner of the bundle he
disclosed a handful of silver coin.
"But here," he proceeded, taking out
a small, dark volume, and laying it on
the table, "here is what, is worth to
me mote than all that silver."
" What is it ?" said his wife, e,urious
ly, as she . turned over the leaves. "
wot nothing of book-learning as thou
knowest." •
"It is the. blessed • Evangile, the
Holy Scriptures." . •
"Now Saint Agnes forefend 1" said
the good wife, piously crossing herself,
"not the Bible in the vulgar tongue?"
" Even so. What hast thou against
the good book ?"
"Thou knowest that no longer ago
than last WhitSiuitide, Father Eustace
warned us against it as a cursed book,
and told us that those who read it
would go down swift sib destruction."
" But knowest thou," said her hus
band, with a look of triumph, " that
our. good. King Henry path ordered
that this book be chained to the read
in.g-desk in every, parish church in
England, so that Whosoever will may
come and read'? I pray thee, which
be the wiser,' Father Eustace or' the
king ?"
Unable to answer this, his wife de
manded: "But how came you by the
book
"In this wise. Four nights agone,
I was, strolling idly though .London
streets', when I saw, a dim light in the
crypt of st. Paul's cathedral. I had
never seen the place, so, moved by, c,U
riosity, I groped my way down the
steep, dark staircase, and soon found
myself in a long, vaulted -room. At
the upper end three or four candles
glimmere,d faintly roundthe reading
desk, where were grouped many
tening; to one who read to them the
words of life. I thought I could' have"
listened all night, for never had I
heard such wonderful words ; but at
length the reader closed the book.
Seeing me linger after the others had
passed, away, he asked ::--
" (Dost thou, too, love the blessed
book ?"
" cOh I good sir,' I answered, ' I
would give all I have in the world to
possess that book.' , .
" ' Thou canst read, then ?' he asked.
" I answered, ' Yes.
" Then,' said he, smiling, though
books be not over plenteous, thou
needst not -pay such -a price for a vol
ume of the Scriptures. lam a dealer
in books, and if thou wilt follow me to
my shop, I Can sell thee one if thou
art minded to buy.'
"I gladly assented, and for ten
silver pieces I obtained the holy book.
Nay," he went on, smiling, "thou need
not look so horrified at the price,
Margery. If thou only knewest what
a comfort it has been to me already,
thou, wouldst not grudge it. Often, in
my weary journey from London, I
have stopped by the roadside under
the shadow of the trees ; then its sweet
words have refreshed me, and I have
gone on merry and gladsome."
" Father," asked little Ralph, who
had been quietly listening, " will you
not read to us some of the words from
the wonderful book ?"
" Not now, for I am weary and
faint. After supper, if you be good
children, I will read to you."
The simple meal was soon over,
and after the wooden dishes had been
cleared away from the rude table, the
father seated himself while the others
clustered round. Hubert, his mother's
darling, was close by her- side ; Ralph
stood at the father's knee, encircled by
his arm ; and little Geoffrey, bringing
his low stool, knelt beside the table.
The father commenced with the
story of the angels appearing to the
Shepherds who watched their flocks by
night, - and read on throu g h several
chapters of Luke's Gospel.
" 0 ! father, what beautiful stories!"
exclainaed little Ralph. " Will you
note give me the = book when I am
grown up, if I learn how to read"?"
"Plenty of time for that, I trow,"
answered the father, laughing. "You
are full young to, talk of learning to
read. But now, methinks, it is time
such little folk as you w6re safely
housed in bed ; little Geoffrey, I see,
is almost asleep even now."
Long after the children were quietly
sleeping, good Master NortOn and his
wife lingered, talking over the words
which had just been read. 'Dame Nor
ton, like many a one in. those troubled
times, clung ,t9,:the old „religion, and to
all her husbarni's earnest words an
swered only, "It may be true. I see
nothing wrong in the words you have
read ; but if the old religion was good
enough for our fathers, why is it not
good enough for us ? Bethink you,
too," she added, with tears in her
eyes, " what will become of you if the
king should turn again ? It is not
long since many of the Gospelers were
binned for reading this very book."
"It cannot be wrong," he answered,
] quietly, "to read God's blessed word.
With His help I mean to do right,
and I will trust in His love to take
care of me, whatever may. befall."
Several .years passed quietly away,
years of almost unbroken prosperity
and happiness to good. Master Norton's
family.
Hubert, who had now grown to be
a tall, slender stripling of twenty-two,
was more than ever his mother's pride
and joy ; but he alone, of all the chil
dren' cared not for., the sacred book
which his father read nightly to the
family. This was partly owing to his
love for his mother, who still clung to
the old faith, and partly to his gentle,
timid nature; for Father Eustace,
whom he greatly feared,, had secretly
threatened him with the most awful
curses, on soul and body, if he ever
dared touch'the holy volume.
Ralph, on' 'the contrary, 'who was
now a 'fine, manly youth of eighteen,
laughed merrily at all theithreats Hof
Father. Eustace, declaring .he would
read what books he listedpif all the
priests in Christendom said him nay.
One sultry . evening in August, Mas
ter Norton returned from a 'journey to
London, much More weary than usual.
Early the next morning, Hilbert, who
slept in the loft, was awakened by his
Mother calling : "Hubert, haste thee
to Dame Ursula, the' "wise woman, and
bid' her come hither quickly; thy
father is grievously fever-stricken !"
A few days passed away, and it be
came manifest that the herbs and de
coe,tions Dre.pared by the wise ,woman,
joined to Dame Margery's loving care,
were all in vain. Master Norton was
dying.
It was a beautiful day in September;
all the • quiet valley where the little
village lay seemed as if rejoicing' in
the golden sunshine; but within one
humble cottage there were hearts al
most _breaking with sorrow, as they
stood around the rude bed on which
Master Norton lay, almost unconscious.
Suddenly, rousing . himself, he turned
to his eldest son, saying.; "Come hither,
Hubert. Thou past_ ever been a good
and loving — son; na'' d:od reward thee
for it. I charge thee to cherish and
protect thy mother. Thou wilt now
be her chief stay and support.
"Come hither, Ralph.' The youth
knelt by the bedside, and burying his
face in the coverlet, gave way to a
burst of yassionate grief.
"Nay, said his father, "look up,
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1866
Ralph; thou hast still a Father in
heaven. Bring hither the holy book.
Then placing it in the hands of the
boy, he Said, " Thou hast ever loved
this book. I give it thee as thou hast
desired, and I charge thee 'be faithful
unto the end. Count not thy life dear
unto thee, but, if need be, yield it up'
joyfully for the truth's sake ; and may
.God, thine own God, help thee."
The two younger boys now came
forward to receive their dying father's
blessing, and so the night fell around
the group by the bedside. •
The morning dawned;: 'but not to
all. Before the first gray light over
spread the eastern sky, Master Norton
had entered the pearly gates of the
New Jerusalem.
"As the mother, so the daughter."
Kind parent, have you ever thought
of this ? And have you endeavored
to conduct the affairs of your family
circle accordingly, so that the good in
fluence of the home circle might be
brought to bear on the social interests
of your youthful family, gl•owing up
around you ? These are momentous
questions to the parent of the present
generation, when there is so much
wickedness in , the world. Let fus, in
this humble way, strive to advise
Christian parents, with a view to the
bringing up and nurture of thfiir off
spring with which God, in his iiLfinite
mercy and goodness, has blessed!them.
Every day should be commenced
and closed with family devotion—the
reading of the Scriptures and the of
fering up of a prayer—and on this ser
vice every one of the family should be
required to attend; for, unless you
make it open and free to all—members
of yo l ui'lmmediate household and do
mestics—You throw away that influ
ence which, once lost, can never be re
aained. Never think of sitting down
to your meals with your family,. with
out returning thanks, to the Glver of
every bounty for the gifts spread be
fore you:' ThiS, too, goes hand in hand
with family devotions, and will soon
show its influence in after years, if not
now.
Make your homes pleasant for your
children at all times, and, especially,
when at that age when they are mould
ing their characters for their future
life. How many young men have
been ruined' for life in this way ; and,
when asked the reasen, invariably re
ply, "My home has no attr i actions for
me. My father beats me, and my
mother is always fmdi t x ault and
scolding me- I would • her spend
my time in the street among .my
fellows, than be the butiiand?.':r of my
parents, from Whom I shoi.:(.l receive
nothing but kindness." And there are
many young women also on the down
ward road to ruin, whose career is
to be attributed to the evil influences
and unattractiveness of the family cir
cle. Remember, you are rearing im
mortal souls, and just as you faithful" ,
act your part in the family, and train
up your children in the way they
should go, so will you receive your re
ward for the part thus performed.
May God give all parents grace
to act well their part toward the,-young
intrusted to their care, so that the
good seed sown in youth may spring
up and bring forth good fruit in man
and womanhood.—German Reformed
Messenger.
"'CAN GOD SEE .ME WHEN MY EYE
It was the question, of a. iittle girl
who had thought to deceive her mother
about some_ trifling matter ; but the
mother understood the 4 ild perfectly:;
and, as she talked seriously to, her of
the sin of untruthfulneSs,she, said,
me in the eyes, my child.
Tell me just how it happened. I shall
know if you are true."
" Can you see wicked stories in •rri
eyes, mamma?"
- " When you tell them tome, I can;"
answered the mother ;• and, the little
one, still unsubdued,pressed. two,fat
fingers upon her, closed„lids, and
said, "Now you can't see.any wicked
story, mamma."
She who looked on thought it - very
bright and cunning in tlfe little
, girl to
do so; but the mother,Tooking-at the
future of her child, ad realizing the
wilfulness-of • her- nature" even iii. this
trifling act, was saddened. •
"I, cannot see your .eyes now, my
dear ; but God can She spoke very
slowly and seriously.; and the .child's
eyes were lifted at, once_.toward, ;the
blue sky, as she asked, in
L .a low
tone "Can God see me - when my eyes
are ;hut, manila?"' 7
f`Yes, Ply dear; Re, sees you, always,
in the day or
,night.; you cannot hide
yourself from Him : He knows, when
you tell a falshood, even if,you whisper
it so low as not to hear your own voice.
God reads your heart, and He is angry
when you try to hide anything from
mamma."
" Is. He angry now F
"If you have a wicked story in
your heart, He is." .
" Look mamma • see my eyes now.
I did tell a wicked story, mamma; I'm
sorry." And the quivering lip and
tearful eye told that now the heart was
reached, the willful spirit conquered.
I hope none of the readers of this
paper ever forget that God sees them
at all times; that, although they may
be able for a time to deceive their pa
rents, never for a moment can they
(TO BE CONCLUDED.)
HOME INFLUENCE,
ARE SHUT ?"
'hide anything from God. He never
shuts His eyes upon our sins; although,
if we repent, He akivays forgives. God
is perfectly just and holy ; and, while
we may well tremble at His anger, we
may remember always that " God is
love."
RUMIZAM - lOVE.
A darling litte infant; .
Was playing on the floor;
-When-suddenly a sunbeam . •
,Came through the open door ;
And i striking the' carpet;
It made a golden dot ;
The7darlingtiiby saw it,
And crept up to the spot.
His little face was heaming
With a smile of perfect joy,
As if an angel's presence
Had filled the little boy;
And Withihis tiny finger,
As in a fairy dream,
He touched the dot of sunshine,
And followed no the beam.
He looked up to his mother,
- To share his infant bliss ;
Then stooped and gave the sunbeam
A pure, sweet baby kiss.
0 Lord, our'Heavenly Father,'
In the fulness of my joy,
I pray that childlike feeling
May never leave the boy.
But in the days of trial,
'When sin' aflures the youth,
" - Send out ( Thy Light" to guide him,
The sunbeams of Thy Truth.
And may this' heart be ever
To Thee an open door,
Through which Thy truths, as sunbeams,
Make joy upon life's floor.
PRACTICAL JOKES.
Boys often ink it a very smart
thing to get one of their number into
a temporary difficulty, thereby causing
an embarrassment of behavior which
greatly excites their mirth and ridi
cule, though often the poor boy who
is the victim finds, like the frogs in
the fable, that, although it is sport to
them; it is death to him'; in other
words, being the butt of =his fellows
wounds his feelings and makes him
truly wretched, while the enjoyment
that arises, from the, suffering of an
other is indeed fleeting, pleasure.
. ,
Two years ago, the ,writer of this
article' attended a pie,-,nic, where the
children were ranged around tables
and Waited upon by kind ladies, who
furnished them with an abundance of
good': things. All seemed happy and
contented except one little boy, who,
sad ,and silent, stood apart from the
rest. "He has been forgotten," I
thought, and
-drew the attention of the
lady, nearest me to the, child.
" There is a little boy who looks
wistfully at the cakes - and pies," I
said, " but he seems to be eating
nothing."
"Why, do you not know that he
cannot eat?" the lady asked, in evi
,dent surprise; and then she told rue
hid sad,story.. Here it is.:
Two, boys were playing, together in
the back yard of a dwelling where
one of them lived. They had every
thing to make their lives pleasant—
friends, fortune, health, and no future
was brighter than theirs. As they
ran through the yard, one of them
stopped for a, momeßt before a vat of
dark, clear liquid, and asked his play
mate what it was.
"I know," was the reply; taste it."
"Is it good?"
"Yes real good. taste, it"
The little fellow put his mouth
down and took one swallow of the
liquid. • It was strong lye, and it
shrank the merdbranes of his throat
and destroyed his palate; and from
that day to this he has :never eaten of
solid fwd. Bread, broth, or sugar
and, water is all the nourishment his
feeble life receiries. The story is true.
It was a cruel, joke, and the boy that
perpetrated it will bitterly repent it,
for it wilt yet probably cost a human
life. • -
Some boys were playing on a frozen
pond that had several spots of weak
ice. One of the boys tied. his skates
together and :whirled them: to, the cen
tre,of one of them, where he, left them
lying. 4i 4ust he said to ,a boy
near, ." tillJOe Burke comes down,
and we'll have some fail."
Joeivas a small, poorly-dresSed boy,
ivhb suffered. Mt &At the hands ofhis
elder andl more knowing
When he came to the pond, the boy
to whom the skates belonged was sit
ting on the•ice, looking: quite forlorn.
":If ; I only had my skates,J l ll go
home,", he,was saying. "llfay_be you
will just run over . and getthern, Joe,
like a good_ fellO 'there they are,"
pointing to the sot. Joe, who was
possessed of an ac,comnaodating spirit,
ran briskly to get them, and, as the
other'boy ha,d planned -and foreseen;
broke through the ice, than was only
strong enough to bear.the , skates, and
got ,a thorough wetting. ~ T here was
great laughter,at his rueful face as he
scrambled out, but he was poor, and
had no clothes to exchange forhis wet
, ••
09 3 - The col and 4 dampness struck
into his feeble frame, and he died in
leis than a month—of typhus fever,
the Physicians said; but the drenciling
"for fun" sowed the seeds.
• I have related' two practical jokes,
:with the 'results. They were not so
very funny, after all.:. Even if they
had not ended ,so fatally, you have
only, to, imagine what your feelings
would be in such , positions, and avoid
an amusement that has for' its founda
tion even the temporary unhappiness
of a fellow-being.' 'There are a thou
sand sports that involve no peril or
suffering. Embrace them all, to the
entire exclusion of such questionable
pleasureaas practical jokes.—Christian
Times.
THE BETTER LAND.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
A father and mother lived with
their two children on a rough island
in the midst of the sea, where they
had been thrown by a shipwreck.
Roots and herbs served them for food,,
a spring of water was their drink, and.
a cave their dwelling. -
The. children could no longer re
member how they came upon the
island. They knew nothing of the
firm land,.and bread, and milk ; fruit,'
and whatever else there is still more
precious, were to them things un-'
known. -
There landed on the island one "day,
in a little ship, four negroes. The
parents were very glad, and hoped
now to be saved from their suffering.
But the , little ship was too small to
carry them all over to the continent
together, and the father wished to risk
the passage first.
The mother and children wept when
he entered the frail, wooden vessel,
and the four black men were about
to take him away. But he said, "Do
not weep. Over there it is better, and
you will all come soon."
When the little ship came again
and took away the mother, the chil
dren wept still more. . But she also
said, "Do not weep. In the better land
we shall see each other again."
At last the little ship 'came to bring
away the two children. They were
very much afraid of the black men,
and the frightful sea over which they
must pass. And so yin fear and tremb
ling, they neared the land. ,
But how glad they were when they
saw their - parents standing on the
shore—when they reached to them
their hands;and led them into shadows
of high palm trees, and on the blos
soming_turf gave them, milk, honey
and delcious fruits. " How foolish
was our fear," said the children ; " we
should not have been afraid, but glad,
when the black men came to bring us
away into the better land."
." Dear children," said the father,
" our passage from that desert
_island
to this beautiful land has for us a still
higher meaning. There is before us
all a longer journey, but into a far
more beautiful land. The whole
earth upon which we live is like an
island ; this glorious land for us only
a faint image of heaven. The passage
thither, over the stormy sea, is death,
that little ship, the bier on which, some
day, the men will carry us away. But
When the hour comes, as it sometime
will; when I, your mother, or you,
must go, then do not be afraid. Death
is, fort the good, only a passage into
the better land."—Little Corporal.
THE TRUE GENTLEMAN.
The following sketch is called the
portrait of a true gentleman, found
in an old Manor House in Gloucester
shire, written and framed, and hung
over the mantlepiece of a tapestried
sitting room::--
" The true , gentleman is God's ser
vant, and the world's master, and his
own man - virtue is his business, study
his recreation, contentment his rest,
and happiness his reward ; God is his
father, the Church is. , his mother, the
saints his brethren, all that need his
friends ; devotion is his chaplain, chas
tity his chamberlain ; sobriety his
butler, temperance his cook, hospitali
ty his. housekeeper, Providence his
steward, charity his treasurer, piety
his mistress of the house, and discre
tion his porter, to let in or out as
most fit. This is his whole family,
made up of virtue, and he is the true
master of the house. He is necessita
ted= to take the world on his way to
heaven ; but he walks through it as
fast as he can, and all his business by
the way is to make himself and others
happy. Take him in two words—a
man and a Christian."
WORDS FITLY SPOKEN.
Those who are , called, to visit the
sick need especially to be able to speak
fitting...words. The visit of a ,Christian.
Minister or friend who has this gift,
is often like the coming of a sunbeam.
It diffuses both light and warmth.
- The late Dr. Stoughton, on one oc
casion, visited a lady who was gradu
ally sinking under a pulmonary-dis-
Pase... On entering her roomy he, greet
ed. her with_ his peculiarly bright
smile, and asked:—
" ttow are you feeling to-day
,?"
"Weak-0, so very weak !" was
the reply, in a sad, almost desponding
-tone.
He' looked at her pale, sad face,
with an increasing sweetness in his
smile; And repeated with his own
marked.emphasis :
" When I am weak,. then I am strong ;
Grace is my shield, and Christ my song."
The words
~came like sweet, music
from heaven to the poor fainting heart.
Her countenance lighted up with a
gladness that never left it in life, and
shone from it even in death.
The late Rev: W. H. Krause, of
Dublin, was visiting a lady in a simi
lar state,'” weak-0, so very weak , '"
She told.him that she had been very
much troubled in mind that day,
because in meditation and prayer she
had found it impossible to govern her
thoughts, and kept merely going over
the same things again and again.
"Well, my dear friend," was his
prompt reply, " there is provision in
the Gospel for that, too. Our Lord
Jesus Christ, when His soul was exceed
ing sorrowful unto death, three times
prayed and spoke the same words."
This reasonable application of Scrip
ture was a source of great comfort to
her. Her trouble was gone, and a
sweet, peace took its place.
Those who can speak such fitting
words at the bedside of the sick and.
the dying, will always be hailed with
gladness as sons of consolation. The
gift is one, of incalculable worth, as
the suffering children of God have
often found. It is one of those " best
gifts" which it were well to covet
earnestly,lndloseeEwith special int
portunity, from the Head of the Church,
for the sake' of His weak and suffer
ing members.—National Baptist.
DEATHS CY LITTLE CHILDREN,
• Around the throne of God in Heaven
Thousands of children stand ;
Children whose sins are all forgiven—
A holy, happy band,
Singing, glory—glory—
Glory be to God on high P'
Blessed be God for the teachings of
the death of little children ! Their
ministry is accomplished ; and how
often is it one of reconciliation be
tween an impenitent parent and a ne-,
glected Saviour! The vacant place at
the table which was once filled by the
child ; the unoccupied crib in the
chamber; the picture-books, well worn
by those dear little hands ; the multi
tude of objects daily coming into sight,
which were either the- possessions of
the absent one, or in some way con
nected with it,—are mutely, but most
eloquently, pleading with the father
and the mother who are left behind,
to begin to walk in that path, if they
are not already in it, which shall lead
them where the family will be uplifted
once more and forever.
How Many might be found who
date their= first religious impressions
from the death-bed of "our little
girl," or ." our: , little boy ?" That
father, whose thoughts and cares
have been limited to this brief life,
awakes from his worldliness as he
wakes up through tears to see the
pearly gates open for the admission of
one of his idolized Children. That
mother,' whose anxieties for the future
of her offspring have been confined
to the vain things of time and sense,
is taught at last, by the removal of
her loved babe from her sight, that
there is a world for which preparation
is of infinitely greater importance
than this—a better country, even a
heavenly. Thus is she taught a lesson
which could have been impressed only
upon a bleeding heart. The child of
her love is safe—
" Gone to God !
Be still my heart—what could a mother's prayer
In all the wildest ecstacies of hope,
Ask for its darling like the bliss of heaven .•• •
The households are many of which
it may be said—One is in heaven. Be
reaved father, bereaved mother, is a
child of yours there, and are you on
the way.thither? Listen to the Divine
voice which has spoken to you so
tenderly and in so much mercy, and
commit yourself and your all to Him
who has already taken one of your
treasures to himself.
" There, in the Shepherd's bosom,
White as the drifted snow,
is the little lamb that we missed one morn
From the household flock below."
—Author of " Home:Thrusts."
LITTLE WALTER
On a quiet Sa.l4th evening in May,
in a Southern Ay, a . family were
gathered in a pleasant parlor. In his
mother's lap.sat a little boy, four years
old, with long golden hair and bright
blue eyes. ' He had been listening to
Bible-stories, and singing his favorite
hymns. After a short silence,
his mo
ther said, "Walter, what will you do
first when you get to heaven?"
He - raised his Tdark blue eyes to her
face, and replied, " I will make a bow
to God."
- A few weeks passed away, and
where was thiA little boy.? We did
not hear his merry laugh, or the patter
of his little feet in the halls and on the
stairs. In the nursery his toys were
scattered about as before ; but ; we did
not see him playing with them. In a
darkened chamber he lay, bearing a
painful sickness so patiently, that his
mother thought his spirit then bowed
to God ; and when all was over, and
that lovely -little form- lay cold and
still -in-the coffin,• it Comforted her
to think.that, with tenithousand times
ten thousand angels, little Walter was
"bowing to d od i Children at Home.
"MY' BOY DRUNK!"
"Drunk I --my boy drunk!" and
tears started from the tribther's eyes,
and she bent her 'bead in unutterable
sorrow. In that mordent; 'the visions
of a useful anithonorable career were
destroyed ; .and roue of_ worthlessness,
if not absolute dishonor, presented
itself. Well did: she knot• that intem
perance ;walks hind in hand with
poverty, shame, 'and death; and her
mother-heart was pierced as with a
sharp-pointed'steel. Ah, young man!
- if:the holy feeling of love for her who
bore you is not dead within you, shun
that which , :gives her pain ; adhere to
that which gives her joy. If she is
with you on earth, she does not, can
not desire to see her son a drunkard;
if she is with her. Father in heaven,
shun that course of life which shuts
the gates of heaven against you, and
debars you from her society forever.
The drunkard cannot inherit the king
dom of God.