61je famihj
THE HEAVENLY SECRET.
Mr. George Cooper sends this stately and sustained
poem of the grave theme of immortality :
Does the dark and soundless river
Stretched so wide—
The homeward rolling tide
Over which have crossed
Our loved and early lost,
That their unsealed eyes may never see
The further side,
Where still amid this toil and misery
We bide?
Is the realm of their transition
Close at hand,
To this, our living land ?
Nearer than we dream?
Can they catch the gleam
Of our smiles, and hear the words we speak!
And see our needs ?
And, looking deeper than our eyes may seek,
Our deeds?
Do they mingle in our gladness?
Do they grieve
When ways of good we leave?
Do they know each thought and hope,
While we in shadows grope?
Can they hear the Future's high behest,
Yet lack the power
To lead us from our ill, or to arrest
The hour ?
When they find us bowed in sorrow,
Do they sigh ?
Or when the earth passes by
For them, do they forget
The cares that here beset
Their well beloved? Or do they wait
(0 be it thus!)
And watch beside the golden gate
For us?
We are yearning for their secret,
Though we call,
No answers ever fall
Upon our dulled ears,
To quell our nameless fears.
Yet GOD is over all, whate'er may be,
And trusting so,
Patience, my heart! a little while, and we,
Shall know.
—Gso. COOPER in Round Table
THE MINISTER'S WIDOW AND THE MINIS
TER'S WIFE.
[COMMUNICATED.]
CHAPTER I
There are persons who seem to have slip
ped into positions they can never, either
creditably to themselves, or so as to
benefit others. Such, unfortunately had
been the case with the Rev. Mr. Hoopes,
who for some years had been the pastor of
the Presbyterian Church at M—, a flour
ishing country town in the northern part of
Pennsylvania. That his motives had been
honest when he first entered the ministry,
I do not doubt, but he had unfortunately
mistaken his calling. Neither his natural
abilities nor scholarly training, fitted him
for the task of instructing others; and al
though a good man, his piety was not of
that deep and ardent character, that some
times supplies most other deficiencies.
Ile bad married a wife, who presented a
perfect contrast to himself, clever and sharp
withal, with administrative abilities that
would almost rival Gem Butler's. The two
had jogged along, in an odd sort of fashion,
for more than a quarter of a century. Mrs.
Hoopes was rather proud of being "the min
ister's wife," although her husband's want
of popularity was a constant eyesore to her.
Indeed, it is doubtful whether he would have
kept his place so long in•the clerical ranks,
had it not been for her influence.
He was 4lieady past the prime of life,
when invited to take charge of the church
belonging to his denomination in M.—.
Although it was a thriving place, yet the li
berality of the people did not keep pace
with their prosperity, and so the " Commit
tee," appointed for the purpose, had select
ed Mr. Hoopes with an eye to economy. They
thought lie would answer for them, and fa
miliar with his reputation, knew that he
could not command a high salary.
There is such a thing however as being
"penny wise and pound foolish." At least
the people of M., who cared anything at all
for their church, found it so to their. cost.
Poor Mr. Hoopes' sermons, though given
with the best intentions, were found to an
swer better as soporifics for many of the
country members, who came from a good
distance and were often tired with the way,
than as a usual means of convicting and
converting sinners, and comforting saints.
The principal feature about them was the
number of their heads. Indeed, in this re
spect they somewhat resembled the fabled
monster that Hercules vanquished, for no
sooner was one head disposed of, than three
more seemed to spring in its place.
From a large congregation, the church
bad dwindled to a mere handful. And even
these few could not be brought together ex
cept on bright days. A rainy Sunday was
a dismal time for the church. Mr. Hoopes'
feeble voice was echoed back with a hollow,
sop, lchral sound, in his vain attempt to fill
the dreary, because almost empty house.
The few, who from a sense of duty, had
braved the storm, went away depressed
rather than cheered.
The only bright thing about the church
was the Sunday-school. This, under the ac
tive, earnest, and much loved superinten
dent Dr. Brewster, had grown and -flourish
ed, almost in proportion as the church de
clined. Dr. Brewster had opposed the ac
tion of the Committee that called Mr. Hoopes.
Not from any personal dislike towards the
minister himself, but from love to the
church. But when the matter was settled,
he had submitted to the will of the majori
ty with g ood grace, and since that time had
done all he could to prevent the decline of
his loved church. How ho succeeded the
Sunday-school showed. But after all, one
man can only do one man's share in the
work of life, and a good superintendent
could not supply the place of a good minis
ter.
- Now it was only natural that Afrs. Hoopes
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MAY 16, 1867.
was not a very good friend to Dr: Brewster.
Not that she would have confessed the fact,
even to herself. She imagined that the only
reason she preferred Dr. Walters as a physi
cian, was that the latter belonged to another
school of practice.
What was Dr. Brewster's surprise, there
fore one morning, sometime before our story
opens, on stopping at the house of Mrs.
Matlock, to bear her say in her quiet way,
"I suppose you have given up all hopes of
poor Mr. Hoopes by this time ?"
" Why ! what has happened ?" said the
startled doctor, " I had not heard that he
was sick." •
" He has not been sick," she replied, "but
he was found in a state of insensibility on
the study floor this morning. Dr. Walters,
I am told, pronounced it an attack of apo
plexy. It is very strange you did not hear
of it, the news was all over town before
eight o'clock."
"I was later than usual getting out this
morning, and this •is the first place I have
seen to yet, perhaps that is the reason," said
the doctor.
He did not visit the next patient on his
list, but went to the parsonage. There
all the hurry and confusion that had reigned
during the early part of the forenoon, had
given place to, the quiet of a house that
Death has entered. The offer be came to
make of any services that he could render,
was not needed—the poor old minister was
at rest. •
CHAPTER II
" My dear, I have concluded to accept the
call."
" I am so glad, Frank," and little Mrs.
Roby looked up, with a bright smile, into her
husband's face, as. he stooped to take the
miniature likeness of himself from her
lap.
"Yes, Fanny, I think it will be for the
best, the salary is sufficient for our wants,
and above all, I think I may be able to do
good service for the Master, at M—"
But Mrs. Roby did not need to be told of
the advantages of the new field of labor that
Providence had opened before them. She
had counted them over in her bright little
head too often for that. However, as she
looked upon her husband's judgment as
something " more than human," the good
little wife had :lone what is said to be al
ways so difficult for a woman, held her
peace. She was very much afraid that her
personal likings might have too much influ
ence in his decision. But now that the mighty
matter is settled, and Frank holds the-baby
while she makes the tea, what a comfort it
it is to talk all about the plans she could
not help making even on the prospect of
going to
While they are castle-building let me tell
the reader how Mr. Frank Roby came to re
ceive the call to M—.
After the death of Mr. Hoopes, the pulpit
had been supplied by a succession of preach
ers provided by the session, from time to
time. During the life of the old minister,
some of the members of that body had
greatly regretted that they had not taken
the advice of Dr. Brewster, one of their
number, in the selection of their pastor.
Consequently, when another was to be cho
sen the doctor's vote had a moral as well as
numerical power in determining the matter.
One of the supplies, as they called them,
seemed to meet with especial favor. He
was invited to preach again, and at last
when the idea of inviting him to be their
own minister was broached, nothing seemed
to give the congregation more pleasure. The
meeting called to consider the matter was
crowded, and the motion to give the Rev.
Frank Roby a call, was passed without a
a dissenting voice. Dr. Brewster then
made a speech, in which he enlarged upon
the prosperity and increasing wealth of the
congregation, and moved that the salary of
the minister be raised. This too was done,
but not unanimously.
Before the arrival of the new family, the
parsonage was nicely prepared for their re
ception by the ladies of the congregation.
Encouraged by the unwonted spirit of liber
ality that prevailed, some of the more ener
getic ones had even succeeded in having some
of the rooms re-papered. Mrs. Hoopes feel
ings were not wounded by all this bustle of
preparation. The sudden death of her hus
band had softened all hearts towards her.
And as her successor had not yet come, she
was still the recipient of many of those lit
tle attentions, that in the country generally
fall to the minister's wife.
The flitting of the Roby family took place
in the early autumn, and before winter they
felt quite at home in their new quarters.
Sociability is the characteristic of most
country towns, and M— was no excep
tion to the general rule. But the arrival
of Mrs. Roby seemed to give a new impetus
to the social element. She was invited to
dinner-parties and tea-drinkings innumera
ble; and she formed the principal theme of
conversation at others to which she was
not invited. It was universally conceded,
that she was quite pretty, had very pleas
ant manners and seemed almost to worship
her husband.
Every thing seemed to promise favorably
for the future of the church. Many who
at first were brought to attend merely
through curiosity, were moved by some in
fluence inexplicable to themselves to come
again. But the best way to give my readers
a view of the case, will be by letting him
take a peep with me into a little book that
Mrs. Frank calls her diary. She does not
keep it in the usual style, and write down
under the date, a long account of the day's
proceedings, as though she expected it
would some day be published in her "Me
moirs." But whenever she has bad a particu
larly trying day with the baby, or has been
more than usually worried with the many
little, yet harrassing cares of a housekeeper's
life, cares that men neither appreciate nor
understand, she unburdens her hearts to
this best of confidants. It wouldn't do to
worry Frank with such' things, you know.
Since she came to M.--, such days seem to
be few and far between, and we find instead
such little scraps as the following.
" I am so glad Frank came to M—,
Everybody seems to love him so much. I
like the people too, on my own account,
they have been so kind to me. To-day Mrs.
Matlack, one of the dearest old ladies,
brought me a pretty sacque for baby. What
pleased me most of all, is that the church
seems to be building up again. The atten
dance at even the week-day prayer-meet
ings is very good, and at nearly every com
munion, we have an encouraging number of
new members added to us."
"To-day 1 heard that Dr. Brewster, one
of our best friends, is going to California, on
business, and will probably be away more
than two years. We shall miss him very
much. I don't see any one that can quite fill
his place."
"Mrs. Hoopes came to see me to-day. She
does not seem as friendly as at first. 1 fancy
something has offended her, but cannot ima
gine what it is. Perhaps it is all fancy on
my part, but, though I like X-- very much,
I cannot help thinking that it would have
been pleasanter if Mrs. Hoopes had not been
the other minister's wife." * * * *
Just here there is a long pause in the
" diary." Let me improve it by explaining
how the little cloud, no bigger than " a
man's band" that seems rising in Mrs.
Roby's sky, was formed.
Mrs. Hoopes was a Christian, and intended
to be a very good one. It was not, there
fore, with a feeling of envy, exactly, that
she looked upon the popularity and success
of Mr. Roby. She could not help seeing
that he was a far better preacher than Mr.
Hoopes had been. But she thought if Mr.
H's salary had been as good, he might have
been encouraged to do better(?) It was also
her opinion that as Mr. Roby was a young
man, and had such a small family, he ought
not to ask for such remuneration.
.So she
came to the conclusion that there must be,
as she expressed it, " a screw loose' some
where, and set her wits to work to find it
out. •
Following out this resolution she made
frequent visits to the parsonage, not at set
times, but running in at all hours, much to
Mrs. Roby's dismay. Mrs. Frank stood
quite in awe of the lady, whose "notability"
as a housewife was well known in town.
Not that the little lady was at all lacking in
such accomplishments, but as her family
was small, she followed the fashion of most
of the ladies in gave out her washing,
but was her own cook and housemaid. "A
baby in the house," it is said, is " a well-spring
of joy." Poor Mrs. Roby sometimes found
hers a well-spring of mortification." It was
often too cold for His Royal Highness in
the kitchen, with its draughts from porch
door, cellar-door, and stair case. So mamma
frequently had to bring her work, no matter
what its character, into the parlor, that she
plight be able to do it, and attend to him at
the same time. She loved the little fellow
too well to mind the inconvenience to her
self, but - was terribly mortified one day,
when Mrs. Howes, found her making flannel
cakes on the top of the parlor-stove while
baby, highly pleased with the noise, was
playing with the duet-pan and rolling-pin.
TO BE CONCLUDED
THE MOTHER'S LAST GIFT;
OR, THE VALUE OF A SINGLE PENNY
THIRTY years Igo there was seen to enter
the city of London a lad about fourteen years
of age. He was dressed in a dark frock,
that hid his under apparel, and which ap
peared to have been made for a person evi
dently taller than the wearer. His boots
were covered with dust from the high road.
He had on an old hat with a black band,
which contrasted strangely with the color of
the covering of his head. A small bundle,
fastened to the end of a stick, and thrown
over the shoulder, was the whole of his equip
ment. As he approached the Mansion House,
he paused to look at the building, and seated
himself on the steps of one of the doors. He
was about to rest awhile; but the homing in
and going out of half-a-dozen persons, before
he had time to finish untying his bundle made
him leave that spot for the next open space,
where the doors were in part closed.
Having taken from the bundle a large
quantity of bread and cheese, which he seemed
to eat with a ravenous appetite, he amused
himself by looking at the building before
him, with all the eager curiosity of one un
accustomed to see similar objects.
The appearance of the youth soon attracted
my curiosity, and gently opening the door, I
stood behind him without his being the least
conscious of my presence. He now began
rummaging his pockets, and after a deal of
trouble brought, out a roll of paper, which he
opened. After satisfying himself that a large
copper coin was safe, he carefully put it back
again, saying to himself, in, a low voice,
"Mother, I will remember your last words:
A penny saved is twopence earned.' It shall
go hard with me before I part with you, old
friend."
Pleased with his remark; I gently touched
the lad on the shoulder. He started, and was
about to move away, when I said:
"My good lad, you seem tired, and like
wise a stranger in the city."
"Yes, sir," he answered, putting his hand
to his hat. He was again about to move for
ward.
"You need not hurry away, my boy," I ob
served. "Indeed, if you are a stranger, and
willing to work, I can, perhaps, help to find
what you require."
The boy stood mute with astonishment;
and coloring to such an extent as to show
all the freckles of a sunburnt face, stammered
out:
" Yes, sir,"
"I wish to know," I added, with all the
kindness of manner I could assume, "whether
you are anxious to find work; for I am in want
of a youth to assist my coachman."
The poor boy twisted his bundle about,
and after having duly placed his hand to his
head, managed to utter an awkard kind of
an answer, that he would be very thankful.
I mentioned not a word about whiPt I had
overheard with regard to the penny, but in
viting him into the house, I sent for the
coachman, to whose care I entrusted the new
comer.
Nearly a month had passed after this meet
ing and conversation occurred, when I re
solved to make some inquiries of the coach
man regarding the conduct of the lad.
"A better boy never came into the house,
sir; and as for wasting anything, bless me,
sir, I know not where he has been brought
up, but I really believe he would consider it
a sin if he did not give the crumbs of bread
to the poor birds every morning."
" I am glad to hear so good an account,"
I replied.
"And as for his good nature,_ sir, there is
not a servant among us that doesn't speak
well of Joseph. Ie reads to us while we
sup, and he writes all our letters for us.
Oh, sir, he has got more learning than all of
us put together ; and what's more, he doesn't
mind work, and never talks about our secrets
after he writes our letters."
Determined to see Joseph myself, I re
quested the coachman to send him to the
parlor.
" I understand, Joseph, that you can read
and write."
"Yes, sir; thanks to my poor, dear
mother."
" You have lately lost your mother, then ?"
"A month that very day when you were
kind enough to take me into your house, an .
unprotected orphan," answered Joseph. .
"Where did you go to. school ?"
" Sir, my motZer has been a widow ever
since I can remember. She was a daughter
of thd village schoolmaster, and having to
maintain me and herself with her needle,
she took the opportunity of her leisure mo
ments to teach me not only how to read and
write, but to cast up accounts."
"And did she give you that penny, which
was in the paper that I saw you unroll so
carefully at the door ?"
Joseph stood amazed,-but at length replied
with emotion, and a tear started from his
eye.
" Yes, sir, it was the very last penny she
gave me."
" Well, Joseph, so satisfied am I with your
conduct, that not only do I pay you a
month's wages willingly for the time you
have been here, but 1 must beg of you to
fulfil the duties of collecting clerk to our
firm, which situation has become vacant by
the death of a very old and faithful as
sistant."
Joseph thanked me in the most unassum
ing manner, and I was asked to take are of
his money, since I had promised to provide
him with suitable clothing for his new occu
pation.
It will be unnecessary to relate how, step
by step, this poor lad proceeded to win the
confidence of myself and partner. The ac
counts were always correct to a penny ; and
whenever his salary became due, he drew
out of my hands no more than he absolutely
wanted, even to a penny. At length he had
saved a sufficient sum of money to be de
posited in the bank.
It so happened that one of our chief custom
ers, who carried on a successful business, re
quired an active partner. This person was
of eccentric habits, and considerably ad
vanced in years. Scrupulously just, he
looked to every penny, and invariably dis
charged his workmen, if theywere not equally
scrupulous in their dealings with him.
Aware of this peculiarity of temper, there
was no person I could rcommend but Joseph:
and after overcoming the repugnance of my
partner who was unwilling to be deprived of
so valuable an assistant, Joseph was duly re
ceived into the firm of Richard, Fairbrothers
& Co. Prosperity attended Joseph in this
new undertaking, and never suffering a penny
difference to appear in his transactions, he so
completely won the confidence of his senior
partner, that he left him the whole of his
business, as he expressed it in his will, " even
to the very last penny."
THE ABSENT LORD,
y Lord . was taken from me: day by day
My heart grew sadder with the sins it bore,
While many dulcet voices came to say,
Why weepest thou? 11 . he come back no more,
'jive o'er thy sorrow, needless at the best.
So I their call obeyed,
And knew not, yet would know where he was
laid,
And could not be at rest.
I was a wanderer thence from place to place;
I questioned some who sat within the gate,
And saw the play of the incredulous face;
On others scanned the look of scorn and hate
My heart grew hard,—.l say not how or why,—
While oft my search was stayed;
And then I cared not where my Master laid,
Or would His name deny.
rims in the day I could my loss forget,
Or lle has crowded from me by the press;
At night, my soul with many fears beset,
Would oft with tears its shame and loss confess,
And sick, alone, afraid,
Cry out, 0 world, tell where my Lord is laid,
Or let me lore thee loss.
One time I thought on Peter in the hall,
And soon of Mary waiting at the grave;
Then of the smiting of the threat'ning Saul. 7—
And was not Jesus near to help and save?
0 light that came, and why the long delay?
I bad my Lord conveyed
Afar, forgetting where He had beenjaid;
And gone upon my way.
My way. and he had risen to follow me,-
- Me all unworthy. ne'er by him forgot;
0 wondrous love, that could so patient be!
My eyes were holden that I knew him not!
Peace came at last, as to the twain that day
Who from Jerusalem strayed;
And while they talked of where He had been
laid.
He met them by the way!
NO HEATHEN AT HOME.
BY REV. JOHN TODD, D.D.
Mr. Old times was a good neighbor, a good
citizen, and a pretty good Christian, though
not a very enlightened one. He lived out
of the village some three miles, but very
seldom was he absent from the house of God
on the Sabbath. It must be a very powerful
rain or a very deep snow that prevented his
being early in his pew. He would contribute
to some objects, but others he would turn
his back upon. The very contribution-box
seemed to know when to stop at his pew,
and when to go past. The cause of Foreign
Missions was one to which he never gave;
and yet it sometimes seemed as if his con
science gave him twinges, f'or after the co!
lection was made he always wanted to talk
about it, and prove that it was all a wrong
system.
" Neighbor Hamilton," said he one day.
*ust after such a collection had been taken
up, "now what's the use, or the propriety,
of sending off our money to convert the
heathen, when we have so many heathen at
home ?"
"Heathen at home? Where are they?"
"Where are they? Why, everywhere! the
town is full of them. Take my own neigh
borhood, and .there is not more than one
family in seven that pretends to go to church
as a stated thing. When, these are all con
verted, or even got to meeting, it will be
soon enough to send the Gospel out of the
country."
" Yes ' I know ; but how long shall we have
to wait? When will these go to the house of
God ? There are churches of almost all shades
of opinion, none of them full, and yet to
none of these will they go. It was just so
with their fathers. It has been so for three
generations. If we wait for these to become
a church-going people, we must wait a great
while. Have you ever tried to persuade
them to attend ?"
"Tried? Yes, over and over again. They
don't want to go, and they won't go. I call
them heathen."
"Yes, but they are not heathen."
"Why not? Why don't they need the
Gospel as much as the heathen ?"
"They do; but the difference is, that they
have the Gospel, and the heathen have not.
The difference is, they have and reject it;
but the heathen have not the offer of life.
Look at your own neighborhood for exam
ple. Just see what light they have!
"In the' first place, every family has a
Bible. They would think you insulted them
should you ask if they have the Scriptures
in their houses—the Bible, containing God's
own teaching to,a lost world,full, complete,
given by inspiration of God, holy men speak
ing as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.
This Bible carries light enough to save every
soul of them all, if they would read and
obey it.
" In the second place, they have the Sab
bath. There is not one of them who does
not know that this is the Lord's day, ap
pointed for rest and for worship. There is not
one ofthem who may not hear the church-bells
every Sabbath; and they know these are so
many sweet invitations to go up to the house
of the Lord, to worship with God's people,
and hear the message of salvation. They
can all go, and would be welcomed if they
would, by Christ and his-people.
" In the third place, they all see you ant
your family go to church every Sabbath.
Your example is an invitation and a reproDf
to them; for they know that you area better
man, your family is better educated, and
every way more respectable, for your habit
of keeping the Sabbath. Every time you
ride past their houses your example preach -s
a sermon to them.
"In the next place, they know that there
is a Sabbath-school in every church in town,
where they have large and valuable libraries,
where the best men and women instruct and
labor for the good of the children;
they know
that, your children show the advantages of
the Sabbath-school, and that their prospects
for life are altogether better, to say nothing
about the salvation of the soul, in conse
quence of their having been brought up in
such a school.
"Then, again, they all know there is a
Saviour, who He is, where He came from,
what He did, where He now is, and what He
is doing. They all know He has a living
Church, always has had, and always will
have. They all know that this Church is
sending out missionaries at home and abroad ;
that she has ministers at home (and very
anxious are they to have a Christian minis
ter at all their funerals); that this Church
has tracts, and religious papers, and maga
zines, and books, and everything to help them
and their children. They all know this, and
know, too, that every one of them might
enjoy every blessing which the Church
scatters.
"Now the heathen have no one thing of
all this. They have no Bible, no Sabbath,
no solemn worship, no Sabbath-schools, no
Christian families or Christian example, no
churches, and they know nothing of Christ.
They can't become Christians. But your
neighbors --they are not heathen. They arc
rejecters of the Gospel of Christ. They see
where the light is, but will not come to it
You see the difference, Mr. Oldtimes, don't
you?"
" Well, I will say you have put it in a pretty
strong light. I never looked at the thing in
that way. I will think it over; and if I see
it to-morrow as it looks to-day, you needn't
wonder if, after all, 'I send you over a little
something to go to Foreign Missions."—Sun
day Magazine.