family flfeli.
NEW YEAR’S HYMN.
Come, let us humbly bow beioreHim,
Who made us, and bis mercy own • .
With praise and thanks let us adore bum,
For all the wonders He bh B done.
Full soon are months and years expended,
When past, He forms their train anew:
For, while their hasty course is ended,
jße still remains—“the Good and True.”
Thou, Lord, forever art abiding—
The God—of old, now, evermore —
But we, the prey-of Time, are gliding,
Like hurried stream along the shore.
ocean-sands, beyond onr telling,
Thy gifts ’twere vain attempt to tell:
While th eir amount onr sins are swelling,
Thy proofs of kindness onward swell.
For Jesus’ sake, extend thy favor
To meet my wants the coming yea*,
Nor leave my thoughts in doubt to waver —
If He will yet my friend appear.
My sins of former years—forgive them 1
This year, help me thy ways pursue 1
Thy graces —in my soul revive them !
My faith, and hope, and love renew!
Grant me, of life’s success and pleasure,
Just what Thou seest will be best!
Of cares and crosses —needed measure —
Lest in the world I seek my rest!
No wish for goods of earth, that perish
And with its hopes must pass away ;
That good alone lead me to cherish,
Which, like the soul, shall always stay
The state —by honest men be guided I
The people—by no wrong oppress’d!
The church —with saving truth provided!
The nationß—join’d in peace be blest!
The'scatter’d, LoVd, in pity gather!
The poor, supply I —disease remove!
The widow’s stay—the orphan’s father
Be thou! —the dying raise above 1
While here I live, whate’er befall me,
. Thy blessing with it, all is well;
A»4 if from earth this year shall call me,
Receive me then with thee to dwell!
For Christ’s own sake, my Father, hear me !
When flesh shall fail, my soul sustain!
Yea, Lord, thou ever wilt be near me,
While that dear name I plead—Amen!
—C. G. Goefy d. 1746.
GRIZZEL’S DINNER; '
A. STORY FROM THE HISTORY OF
SCOTLAND,
BY THE AUTHOR OF “a»a’s BIBLE.”
It was upon an autumn day, more
than a hundred and eighty years ago,
that, in the dining-hall of Bedbraes
Castle, near the town of Greenlaw, in
Berwick, the lady of the mansion and
aer family had met at dinner.
One would not wish to see a more
hopeful or interesting group of young
feces than those assembled round the
board—faces of almost every age, from
the eldest daughter, Grizzel, of eigh
teen, to little Jean, of perhaps five or
six.
The mother might well be proud of
her children; but Lady Hume’s grave,
majestic countenance wore an expres
sion of anxiety, which showed that she
had other thoughts just then than those
of domestic enjoyment.
It was a time, in fact, when few
hearts or homes in Scotland, whether
lofty or lowly, were free from affliction.
For fonr-and-twenty years the -people
had been exposed to a bitter persecu
tion, because they persisted in adher
ing to the form of religious worship:
which their consciences sanctioned,
and in refusing to accept the bishops
whom King Charles the Second’s
government wished to force upon their
church. Thousands had already suf
fered in the cause, and all who had
hitherto escaped endured the misery of
wneeasing apprehension respecting the
&te awaiting themselves or those they
loved.
Lady Hume belonged to the latter
class. Her husband had incurred par
ticular odium on account of his con
nection, with other Scottish gentlemen,
in a plot formed in England t 6 change
the existing administration; and he
whd now an exile from home in close
concealment. But his enemies were on
the alert to discover his hiding-place,
and his wife must have trembled with
many a terrible fear.
The soup was served, and the little
party, respecting their mother’s mood,
perhaps, though not understanding it,
plied their spoons without exchanging
a word, until the shrill voice of one of
the boyis suddenly broke the silence by
exclaiming:—
“Mother, will you look at Grizzel ?
While we have been eating our broth,
she has eaten up the whole sheep’s
head.”
All eyes were turned in the direc
tion indicated, and it was quite evident
that a sheep’s head at Grizzel’s end of
the table had very unaccountably dis
appeared. Ih those days this was not
so Unfashionable a dish in Scotland as
it is now with us, but still it seemed
rather remarkable that a young lady
-of eighteen should consume the whole
«f one at a meal. There was a shout
of merriment at poor Grizzel’s achieve
ment in the way of eating, but she only
laughed and blushed, and bore che
banter of her brothers and sisters with
her habitual sweet temper.
Dinner was finished, and the young
people left the table; but it might have
been observed that Grizzel remained in
until all the rest had quitted
the room. She then rose, and carefully
wrapping up some article in the nap
idn which layin her lap, she hastily
repeated with, the prize to her bed
ohamber. Having there, disposed of
the mysterious parcel in a place: of
safety, she returned to her mother, and
gay and light-hearted as the youngest
among them.
At night, however, when all the
household had retired to rest, and she
was once again in her own room, the
light and mirth suddenly left her face,
and it became watchful aud full of
grave purpose. She did not go to bed
nor undress, but sat herself patiently
down, as though in expectation of hav
ing to wait some time.
For an hour or two, in fact, she kept
this lonely vigil, and it was not until
every sound in the house had long
ceased, and it seemed clear, from the
perfect stillness, that all the inmates
were securely asleep, that she at last
ventured to move. ‘
The clock had already chimed the
hour of midnight, when, after taking
from its hiding-place the bundle she had
secreted at dinner-time, she noiselessly
issued from her chamber and descended
the stairs.
Silently and lightly as a shadow she
flitted through the winding passages
of the great old house, and having
reached the entrance-hall, proceeded
to undo the bolts and bars of the door.
A bungler would never have man
aged this part of the business without
creating an alarm; but Grizzel was no
bungler, and in less time than it'takes
to tell it, the heavy door slowly opened,
letting in a draught of cool air. Pos
sessing herself of the key, she closed
the door again, softly behind her,
shutting herself out into the dark night.
It Was not a night to be chosen for a
walk; there was no moon, and the sky
was sombre and cloudy; but unheed
ing the dafkness, Grizzel hastened on
her way, only pausing now and then
when a rustling among the leaves
made her dread that she was followed.
• She had a mile to walk, and the last
part of the journey was th 6 Worst, for it
lay over the burying-ground of Pol
wart chu? cb, and Grizzel at ordinary
times entertained many silly fears
about ,a church-yard. But to-night she
had no thought of anything save the
object of her errand, and went stumb
ling over the graves without a'Shudder.
At one moment she was startled by
a violent noise—baying of dogs at
a short distance from her; and a pang
of horror seized her heart as she recol
lected the blood-hounds with which
the persecutors were wont, in those
barbarous days,- to track out their
victims. Were they upon the scent ?
Ii so, discovery would be certain.
She stood still to listen, but the
barking continued exactly in the same
spot.
Thank God! it was only the minis
ter’s dogs, in the parsonage near the
church.
She had now reached the end of her
journey. At the burying-vault of her
family under Polwart church she
stopped, cautiously looked around her,
as well as the darkness permitted, bent
her ear once more to listen, and then
unhesitatingly descended into this
gloomy receptacle—this black, dank
tomb.'
In a moment afterward she was
clasDed in her father’s arms.
It was in this strange refuge that
Sir Patrick Hume had concealed him
self, rightly judging that his foes would
not come to look for him among the
ashes of his forefathers. No one was
entrusted with the secret of his Tetreat
except his wife, his devoted daughter
Grizzel, and a carpenter named James
Winter, who worked at Bedbraes Cas
tle, and who had been employed to con
vey Sir Patrick’s bed to this novel
lodging. It was Grizzel’s office every
night to bring food to her father, and
much trouble she often had to bear
off the necessary supply without. at
tracting suspicion.
We may suppose how eagerly her
father watched for her coming. He
dare not burn a lamp, and the only
light he got was through a slit at one
end of the vault, which would not
admit light enough even by day for
him to read by; so that all day long he
could only cheer himself by repeating
Buchanan’s translation of the Psalms;
and it must have been very , welcome
to him, after the solitary hours of the
day, to hear a sweet, happy, living
voice at night.
Grizzel opened her parcel; and there
was the very sheep’s head which had
vanished so mysteriously from the din
ner-table at Bedbraes.
"And, father, do you know,” said
she, laughing, "that Sandy took it
very much amiss that I should make
such a hearty dinner as a whole
sheep’s head ?”
Sir Patriek joined heartily in his
daughter’s amusement as he heard the
history of the sheep’s head, and stipu :
lated that Sandy should not be cheated
of his share of the next. And ,then
the father and daughter fell to graver
discourse.
“ Have you had any tidings yet of
our dear friend, BaUlie ©f Jervis
wood?” inquired the former. “My
thoughts are constantly going forth to
him in his dreary prison-house.”
“We have heard of him through
his sister-in-law,” Grizzel. answered;
" he is sick and weary in body, lying
near death with an illness brought on
by his imprisonment; but his faith is
strong and his mind firm and faithful.”
" Faithful unto death,” said Sir Pat
rick, more as though speaking to him
self than addressing his daughter;
“ yes, he will be faithful unto death.
I might please myself with hopes of
his restoration to liberty and health,
but I feel too Bure that he is destined
to win the martyr’s crown. To him
the change will be unmixed gain, but
the Protestant religion will lose a fear
less supporter; Scotland will lose one
of her noblest gentlemen, and those
who know and love him will lose a
friend whose place can never be filled.
Dear, loving companion of my joys
and sorrows, we shall never meet
again in this world; but, nevertheless,
our separation may not be for long.”
“ O, father, father, do not say that!”
exclaimed Grizzel; “ though indeed I
fear that you cannot stay here much
longer. I think the secret can scarcely
he preserved for any great length of
time. You have already been here
nearly a month, and partiSS of soldiers
are constantly making inquiriesuibout
you. Only yesterday a party of them
came to Bedbraes and put the servants
to a close examination.”
“If my time be come, Grizzel,” re
plied her father, " I hope I shall meet
it as becomes a Christian. Let us
trust and rest.”
“Let us trust, dearest father, but
not r6st; at any rate, not until we
have tried every means. I have
thought of another plan. Do you not
remember that -there is a room on the
ground floor at Bedbraes, where a bed
has been put up? -Now, I have
thought that, if the flooring under
this bed can be taken up, and a deep,
wide hole dug in the earth beneath,
we might get Jamie Winter to make
a great wooden box, large enough to
hold you, and sink it in the pit. We
could then replace the flooring, taking
care to cut good breathing-holes; and
I think you would he safe from dis
covery.”
“It seems I must be buried alive,
then,” said her father, smiling sadly.
"But, my dear, who is io do all this?”
“0, never fear abouthhat,” was the
reply; “I and Jamie Winter will do
it fast enough. The thought of having
you home again, even though it be in
'such a dismal position, will give me
the strength of Samson. The only
thing that troubles me is to think how
you can get there free from observa
tion.”
Sir Patrick silently pressed his lips
to his daughter’s forehead; and Griz
zel, haying now stayed as long as she
dared, prepared to depart on her way
homeward. In spite of her hopeful
tone, a few tears dimmed her eyes as
she bade her father good-bye; but
these he could not see for the dark
ness ; and she left him, with the reas
suring promise of coming again on
the following night.
The plan of another place of con
cealment was literally carried out as
she had proposed; and she wore her
nails away in helping to dig the pit,
fearing lest the noise of tools should
arouse attention. The good carpenter
and she worked together, at night;. and,
her father was secreted in this new
hiding-hole until he was able to escape
to Holland, whither his family soon
followed him.
It is, perhaps, scarcely possible for
young people, who live in these hap
pier days, fully to realize a state of
society like this, when good and pious
men were driven to such cruel extre
mities, merely because they preferred
one kind of church to another.
. Yet the case of Sir Patrick Hume
was mild when compared with many
cases that occurred in Scotland between
1660 and 1688. It is calculated that
within this period scarcely fewer than
'eighteen thousand persons suffered, in
one way or other, from the malice of
religious intolerance. -..
But, although our own experience
is so different, that it is a matter of
wonder how sueh tyranny could have
existed, the history of these terrible
times ®f persecution should teach us
not only to be thankful for the free
dom we possess, to worship God in
the way we think right, but also to be
carpful to use this freedom with more
faithful earnestness. Our religious
duties ought not to be looked upon,
as they are too often regarded, in the
light of wearisome tasks we are glad
to get through, but as privileges and
blessings given by Him to whom we
owe all the good gifts which we enjoy
in this world, and that transcendent
gift of eternal life through our Lord
and Saviour, Jesus Christ, his Son,
which we hope to enjoy in the world
to come. , ,'■
In the reign of William and Mary,
the family of the Humes was raised to
great honor, and Sir Patrick was cre
ated Earl of Marehmont. In their
prosperity, as in their adversity, their
eldest daughter was the same dutiful
and affectionate child. When Lady
Marehmont was upon her death-bed,
Grizzel, then a wife and mother her
self, had withdrawn behind the curtain
to conceal her emotion. The mother
Called to her, and taking her hand
bestowed her dying blessing. “My
dear Grizzel,” she said, “ blessed : be
you above all, for a helpful child have
you been to me.”
Grizzel herself attained a great age,
a living and beautiful illustration of
the commandment, “Honor thy father
and thy mother: that thy days may
be long upon the land.”— Sunshine.
A Dying King. —King Edward VI.
said to the weepers who surrounded
his death bed, “If you love me, you
would forbear weeping, and rejoioe,
beeuuse I go .to my Father, with
whom I shall receive the joys pro
mised the faithful; not through my
merits, but by the free, mercy of my
Saviour, who showeth mercy to whom
he pjeaseth.”
RUTH.
A SCRIPTURE IDYL.
" Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from
following after thee.”— Ruth i. 16.
Forbid me not from following after thee,
O Naomi!
Even for dead Mahlon’s sake,
Unto Beth-lehem, where the corn-reeds shake,
My path shall he.
Nor look thou back, nor mourn
The dead
Whose leaf is shed,
Whose sheaf is hound ;
Flowers of thy youth, on Moab’s ground,
Whose bloom, so Irving-sweet, no Bummer shall
return.
Orpah, depart!—Nay, go
Back to thy kindred, as our mother sayeth ;
And kiss the sod for me
Where lip of mine no more with weeping pray
eth
The dead have’no more woe,
But her, the living, will I not forsake;
O, NaOmi! if not with me,
Where shall thy torn heart still its bleeding?
Orpah departs—and, see!
Even now her steps, receding,
Tread down the grass in Moab. Let me be
The one found faithful. Bid me comfort thee.
§
Love hath no one sole land.
In all lands love hath been
At God’s right hand ;
Below, above,
In every clime is love,
And still shall be,
While mingles shore with sea,
And silvered upland slopes to golden lea.
Where 1 er we go
That sap must flow
Which feeds the Tree of Life and keeps it greep.
Take comfort, then, of me,
O Naomi !
And God, whose will can make
New dawns, new hopes, to break,
. Whose love alone
Can green the arid heart, as moss the desert
stone,
Who walks the rustling ways where all dead
leave's are strown, *
Shall lead thee by the hand
Back to thine own loved land,
Where thou shalt see
On yonder once-parched plain
The ripe ear full again !
—Every Saturday.
THE GOOD SANTA CLAUS.
BY PAUL BBNSON.
“ Gentlemen,” said Bertie Dobson,
as he strutted into the nursery the day
before Christmas, “ Gentlemen, I—I”
“ You what?” asked little Tommie,
who was very busy fixing an old sled
that he had-received the year before,
for fear Santa Claus would- be pro
voked at his not having taken good
care of old gifts and refuse to give him
any more.
" I—l—l have a little piece to
speak,”
, “ What kind of a piece ? I'd like to
know,” chimed, in Charlie.
" Something that just suits this very
day,” responded Bertie, “for we are
trying to get Santa Claus into a good
humor, so that he will do something
for us to-morrow morning; and this
speech I’m going to make to the good
old man, and I want you all .to say
amen, when I’m done.”
“ All right,” shouted both the boys,
for they were interested in getting the
old Christmas children’s friend into
the best kind of humor.
So Bertie began—
“o, Santa Clans! they say because
I was not good to aunty,
Yonr gifts to me, this year, will be
Of doubtful kind, and scanty.”
“Weil, bat I was good to aunty,”
said Charlie, interrupting the speech,
and trying to excuse his ill behavior,
because he did’nt happen to have an
aunty about the house. .
“But you wasn’t good to mother,”,
replied the little speeeMmaker, who
was determined to make Ms speech ap
ply; " but don’t stop me—listen to the
rest—
1 ‘ But don’t you know, how very slow
She was my ball to cover ?
And how she said ’twas time for bed ?
You see I couldn’t love her.”
“Ha! that’s just the way Charlie
talked about mother, if he don’t have
an aunty,” said Tommie.
" Tut! tut l” put in the little preach
er;, "you must try to apply the ser
mon to yourself, instead of receiving
it only for other people.”
“ Amen,” said Charlie solemnly, for
he was glad to hear the rebuke, though
he had applied' the verse to
honestly.
“ Go on, mister,” whispered Tommie,
rather subdued by the last thrust •. ...
Bertie went on—
S
“But! will try and not ask why,
When next she gives direction,
But run away to work or play
Without the least objection.'
"So, if you'll come and bring a drum,
. And little pony (rocking),
I will be kind, and yon shall find
A yery good boy’s stocking.”
The little hearers bath gave the
promised response, which, of course,
meant “so be it;” for what boy isn’t
willihg to get down on his knees to
old Santa Claus, when the Christinas
times are drawing near, and get well
forgiven, so that the stockings will be
well filled ?
“Well, now you have all said those
good things to Santa Glaus,” said their
sister Laura, who had been listening
at the door and now stepped-in, “I
hope yon will feel how important these
resolutions are.”
" O, we do, sister," shouted Tommie,
as though none were so good at mak
ing and keeping resolutions as he; but
you could see the stocking questidn
gleaming in his eye.
"Do not my little brothers feel like
making these new promises jnst be
cause Christmas is so near?” asked
the good, sister.
The' boys held down their heads.
A few words of good counsel fol
lowed, for Laura never let a good op
portunity of doing her little brothers
good go by without improving it.
" Now,” said she, “ who can tell me
what Christmas is?”
“Jesus’s birthday,” answered two
of the boys.
“ Who has been the kindest Santa
Claus to us, then?” asked she.
The hoys scarcely knew; but when
being reminded of how rich a gift
Jesus was, they began to understand
what their sister meant, an.d Bertie
said, "Isn’t God the good Santa Claus,
sister ?”
“You are right, Bertie,” she an
swered, “ and how we should think of
our conduct to Him when the-Christ
mas . times come! How careful we
should be to live, so that we wont
have to do so much repentance every
time we want favors!”
Bertie began to see the point of his
own speech, and so did the little breth
ren who belonged to the “ amen cor
ner,” and right humble they all be
came.
i When, therefore, Laura asked them
all to kneel down by her side and ask
God to forgive all wrong, and give
them a glojjous Christmas, they quick
ly took their places and joined fervent
ly in the prayer. And I think God
heard them, for they rose happy, and
the next morning Santa Claus had
filled their stockings with good things,
and their hearts with l<we. And a
merrier group you doin, often see
than the * Dobson family formed that
“ Merry Christmas.”-
" God so loved the world as to give”
; —A Wonderful Christmas Gift.—.
8. S. Cashel,
INTERESTING INCIDENT.
At the late New York State Sab
bath-school Convention, held at Utica,
,one of the county secretaries related
the following interesting incident of
missionary labors. It shows how
•much may be done. by_the humblest
of workers who are intent upon sav
ing .souls. ; . '..
Years ago • -a home ndissionary,
laboring in Ontario county, establish
ed a Sabbath-school, and gathered the
children of the neighborhood into it.
He called upon a poor, wretched fami
ly, to get permission for their boy to
attend. - After various objections, the
parents decided to leave the matter
with-the boy. “I’ve got no Bible,”
said he. "We will give you a Bible;”
said the missionary. "But I’ve got
no coat.” “We will give you a coat,”
the good man replied. ; “ But I’ve got
no,shoes.” 1 “Well, you can go bare
foot, can you not ?” "I will, if you
will,” quickly replied the shrewd boy.
:"J)qns_;_.it!s..a. bargain,” the jnissiona-.
ry said. The next Sunday, as the
man was walking to the school, boots
on, as usual, the sharp youngster, on
the lookout, spied him and called out,
“ I know’d you’d back down, Mister!”
Quick as thought the missionary with
drew his boots from his feet, and tuck
ing the stockings into them, led the
boy, fairly won,.- into the school.
Twenty-five years roHed away, and
that faithful missionary was surprised
one day to receive a letter from the
Sandwich Islands. In wonder he
opened the seal, and read, with tears
of grateful joy, a letter from this early
mission now a man of God,
preaching the Gospel to the natives of
that far-off island. To add to the in
terest' of the. fact, that same mission
ary, now an old man, hoary-headed
and bent with years, was present at the
Convention, §nd at the close of the
session received the warm congratula
tions of his brethren, who gathered
around him. Singularly enough, there
was in that same meeting, attending
the Convention, a young Christian,
son and brother of the Gulick mission
ary family, who was born and reared
in the Sandwich Islands. Many of the
hearers supposed that he was the
young missionary rescued by the
faithful old man, and. the story has so
tgone abroad. But the climax is not
needed to give force to this striking
example of the divine blessing attend
ing wise and. faithful mission labors.
THU BIRD THAT BUILDS A PLAY
HOUSE.
You f all know what pretty houses
birds build to lay their eggs and rear
their young in, but did you ever know
of a bird going to quite as much
trouble just to make a play-house?
The Bower bird of Australia is not
contented with the magnificent forests
and orange groves he has to sport in,
but he must go to work and make a
house more to his mind. It does not
use it for a nest, nor, has its nest ever
yet been discovered. One would im
agine, from its little ball-room, that the
nest itself must be quite a fanciful
affair.
The first thing to be done in their
little assembly-room is one of the last
in ordinary houses. Mrs. Bower puts
down her carpet. It resembles a tol
erable mat, woven of twigs and coarse
grasses. Then other twigs are collect
ed) and arching sides are arranged,
making a little alley, large enough to
accommodate several friends at a time.
Such romping and racing as goes on
while Mrs. Bower makes a party. Up
and down this curious.hall they chase
each other, uttering a loud, full cry,
which is no doubt meant for laughter.
It is no sort of protection from the
weather, and as far as any one can see,
it is good for nothing but to play in.
But as it has nothing else in the world
to do but to enjoy itself, it is very weU
to make that the business of life. Ii
is very different with boys and girls,
who have precious souls that must
live forever, and who >bave a work to
do for God in this world.
These little Bowers think quite as
much of amusement as some silly
people we have seen in our lives.
They gather together just before the
front and back door of their homes a
great collection of shining things,
nice white pebbles,- pretty sea-shells,
gay feathers, bits, of ribbons, when
they can steal any; even bright color
ed rags, broken tobacco-pipes, and
any shining scraps of metal they may
chance to espy in their travels. Gold
and brass are all the same to them,
If the gold was dull and the brass
bright,'- they would much prefer the
latter. When the natives lose any
light articles about their homes, they
are pretty sure to rummage over the
collections of the nearest Bower birds,
and very often succeed in recovering
their goods..
BUSINESS FIRST, PLEASURE AFTER.
“ Put the young horse in the plow, ”
said the farmer; and very much
pleased he was to be in a team with
Dobbin and the gray mare. It was a
long field, and gayly he walked across
it, his nose upon Dobbin’s haunches,
having hard work to keep at so slow
a pace.
“Where are we going now?” he
said, when he got to the top. “ This
is very pleasant.”
“ Back again,” said Dobbin.
“ What for ?” said the young horse,
rather surprised; but Dobbin bad
gone to sleep/forhe could plow as well
asleep as awake, .
" What are we going back for ?”
he asked, turning round 'to the old
gray mare.
■ “ Keep on,” said the gray mare, “or
we shall never get to the bottom, and
you’ll have the whip at your heels.”
“ Yery odd, indeed,” said the young
horse, who thought he had had enough
.of it, and was not sorry he was com
'ing to the bottom of the field. Great
yas his astonishment when Dobbin,
just opened his eyes, again turned,
and proceeded at the same pace up
the field again.
“ How long is this going on ?” asked
the young horse. -
Dobbin just glanced across the field
as his eyes closed, and fell asleep
again, as he began to calculate how
long it. would - take to-plow it.
" How long will tins go on ?” he
asked, turning to. the gray mare.
“Keep up, I tell you,” she said, “ox
you’ll have me on your heels.”
When the top caine, and another
turn, and the bottom, and then another
turn, the poor young horse was in de- ;
spair ; he grew quite dizzy, and was
glad, like Dobbin, to shut his eyes,
that he might get rid of the sight of
the same ground so continually.
“Well,” he said, when the gears
were taken off, “if this is your plow
ing, I hope I shall have no more of
it.” But his hopes were vain; for
many days he plowed, till he got, not
reconciled to it, but tired of complain
ing of the weary, monotonous work.
In the winter, when comfortably
housed in the warm stable, he cried
out to Dobbin, as be was eating some
delicious oats :•—
“ I say, Dobbin, this is better than
plowing; do you remember that field ?
I hope I shall never have anything to
do with that business again. What
in the world could jap the use of walk
ing up- a field just for the sake of
walking down again ? It’s enough to
make one laugh to think of it."
"How do you like your oats?” said
Dobbin.
“Delicious!” said the young horse.
“ Then please to remember, if there
were no plowing there would be no
oats.”— Mrs. Prosser's Fables.
A NOBLE SACRIFICE.
Deep as.human nature is. sunk by
sin, there are here and there
of kind-heartedness and self-sacrffcce,
which ought not to be overlooked.
Take an example: The Military Tri
bunal of Bordeaux last week tried &
man named Civrac, aged thirty, on the
charge of not having drawn for the
conscription. It was stated for the de
fence, that the accused went to Califor
nia when nineteen years of age, and,,
after working hard for eleven years, had
managed to save a sum 0f15,000 francs,
with which he took his’passage for
Europe on board the unfortunate Gold
en Gate, which was burnt at sea. When
no hope remained of extinguishing the
fire, Civrac secured his golfrin a belt
round‘his waistband leaped-into thesea.
. * good swimmer,. he might,
probably have reached the shore with
Ms treasure, had he not, when tossing
on 'the waves, been thrown near a
drowning woman, who implored him
to save her cMld, which she held in
her arms. Knowing that he must sink
with the additional weight of the child,
he sacrificed his gold, took the child,
arid both got'safe to land, as did also
several others of his fellow-passengers.
He at last found means of‘returning
to Erance, and. on his arrival at hisnk
tive village, gave himself up to tie
military authorities. After hearing >
the prisoner’s statement, the Tribunal
acquitted him and ordered him tonafe
discharged.— QdUgnani. I '