momammigai
4.. t gamitg Cittts.
AN EVENING HYMN.
Sweet is the close of day,
When all the fields are still ;
Earth looks as it it list'aing lay
For God to speak his will.
In the clear round of sky
On one side sinks the p:un—
A solemn splendor, which the eye
Scarce dares to look upon..
While, on the other hand,
The fair moon rises clear,
And harmonies swell wave-like grand, ilk
And flow from sphere to sphere.
" God's will is done in heaven !"
Comes from tie eetting sun ;
And to tue rising moon is given
A voice, "His will be done!"
Lo! Venus, fiery Mars,
Come forth as ii by name;
God called out one by one His stars,
And one,by one they came:
•
And in the midst I stand, t-
Smitten with sudden aweL-
These worlds )4o forth at. God's command,
His will their pertect law.
Oh that I. were an they,
Untiring, swift to ran
My course of, blessing clay by day
For 'SO iedone. ' '
Lord, make Thy law my will I
And these I - cannot be;
But ,help nip. freely to fulfil,
Thy purpose, loving, fiee
Aliti4frtlitttlavr!of-love
*" 11&ke Alt o'ltriAl'ls tukcinel; ,-.° • .a ._
"Its it is in Heaven al:cove,"
bli"eitrth "Tiff wil'l•-be'ddne 1P
' , :414{1eStinciay Magazine
•
MR. HAMMOND'S LETTER TO THE OHIL-
Towanda, Pa, •Dec. I Ith, 1868.
"AtAN.4I,A,. GOD'S."
MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS it 3 a long
tme since I have had a talk with, the little
readers of The American Presbyterian. I think
you Afonld likelto hear about a little girl
who,ouct) startled ber mother in Philadel
phia, by saying to her, "Ai - amnia, l'm God's."
I met her in Leamington, in England, a
few indriths since, and her mother told me
all about how her dear child learned to say
these words. :I think it int_rest you
to hear the story.
She came with many other children to one
of my children's meetings in Calvary church
in Philadelphia, a few years ago, just to hear
some stories; but her good mother had been
praying most earnestly that her daughter
might hear some words ab , mt the Saviours
great love' to us - that would make her feel
what a sinner she was not to love Him in
return. And God answered that mother's
Kayers , . s.
Al the -oleso of the first meeting, a good
many of the little ones were weeping for
their sins. ThAylfult that they had broken
God's good laws, and that they dcseryed to
be punished. But we told them that Jesus
• Christ, God's only Son; had suffered on tho
cross for sinful children,, and that God could
uow , receive them and fbrgive them all their
sins, only for Jesus' sake, "who LOVED Us AND
GAVE UnVISELF FOR 1.18."
After the ministers and Christians present
had spoken and prayed with the children,
one by one, there were Still a good, many
when the time came to close the meeting,
who felt their sins a heavy burden, and we
told them, as soon as they got home r to go
at once into their own rooms, and to kneel
down and give J,hemselves right up to God,
as their loving Father, and that lie would
receive them as His own dear children for
his Son's sake, that He would forgive them
all their sins and at last take them to live
with him in His beautiful home in heaven.
This little girl just believed every Wald
that was told her; and. so, when she, got
home, she did nqt even stop to speak:to her
mother, whom she loved , dearly, but she
passed right by her and went up to her own
room and. Was there for a good while.
Her mother wondered at this, for her little
daughter never did such a thing before.
After a long tim© she came down to the
drawing room, and said to her mother,
"Mamma, Till God's."'
Her mother looked her full in the face but
did not say a word.
Again thelittle ehild said, ".Mantrna,irm
GOd,'s:"
_Even then, her- mother ' ;who was a good
Christian, was taken so by surprise that she
did not answer a word. After n r . little, her
child, still looking earnestly at her mother,
asked : "And have you nothing to say to me ?"
"Ah yes, my ehlid, sit down and tell me
all about it."
She then ,sat down and told her weeping
-mother what We have told you.
And ihei,elbe`,od by saying, ".t . , ; • did give my
s 045 ded,'and tkiWurhe'receitied one and
_forgave me all my sins for Jesus' sake who died
for me," . .
From that day, that Child shewed by her
changed life, that she was truly a child of
God, and that He had really changed her
heart. ' She was as happy as a lark,'day by
day. )3pfore, she had often given her mo
ther a deal of trouble, but from that day to
ha,s'been the comfort of her beloved
parents. Several years ; have now passed
a way, and she is still clinging to the Saviour,
and what is better still, she is doing all she
can to lead others to trust and love Him.
A few months ago, when I was holding
some ehildren's meetings in Leamington, I
saw he:tan:Long those who were asking, " What
shall .I do to 6.e saved?" She was pointint ,
them to the aviour, and 'telling them - that
He had suffered, the Just for the unjust, that
ire might bring us to God." She is now with
her parents giling to ;Scrustdona, to see, the
" •
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN THURSDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1860.
place where the loving Jesus " was wounded
tOr oar transgressions and bruised for our
a nice little letter to me she says:
"Several years ago, during a course of meet
ings held by you in America, 1 gave my
heart to Jesus. I still love my Saviour
dearly, for 'He first loved me and gave Him
self for me.' Pray for me that I may daily
grow in grace. * * We are soon to visit
that land where Jesus lived arid died, and I
expect much pleasure in reading your
SIOETC►iEs OF PALESTINE,' in those places
which it describes.
"Your affectionate Friend,
Now my dear little reader can you truly
say: "1 am God's"? Ile is as ready to for
give you as He was that little girl in Phila
delphia. Stop and think how much the dear
Saviour suffered in order that God might for
give us and make us his own obedient chil
dren.
Read the Twenty-third Chapter of Luke,
which tells about the dreadful death the
loving Jesus endured. for us. And then go
away alone and kneel down and offer this
CHILD'S PRAYER:
"0 Lord ! I know I have not been thine;
I have not loved thee nor obeyed thee. I
am sorry for it. lam sorry for all my sins.
But 0! I am the. most sorry that I have
never loved and trusted our precious Saviour
who bled and died' on:the cross that we guilty
sinners might be saved. '0 G-od! forgive me
'all my sins, and change this 'Wicked, hard
heart, and receive me as thine own child,
and then I, too, can truly say, "I am God's."
This I ask for Jesus sake. Amen."
THE BEAUTIFUL GATE.
" My eye !" said Cad, looking admiringly
over the fence. -" What of they was gold,
sure enough,{
,r - ouldn't I,run, an', git one
changedo,mighty qatok VS - 1::,..i. - ..E.,‘,‘ .t i
Vegetable gold. they were indeed,. lying.
great yellow nuggetsliere and there ever
the pumpkin-vines, basking in the still warm
beams of-an October. sun." A
~ : lf : - --
'"Pears like dey'd took all do itteashinelo
derselves ' " said Cud, again. . And se
,they
pl
had; for the suns of a whole samer had
burnished them into
. gold:
'Perhaps my young :readers are wonder
ing who could own so queer a name as Cud.
Well, the boy that owned it ownedriothing
else in the world, not even himself; for he
was black and a slave. HiS real name was
too large for his.size. It was quite aristo
, ,
Cuthbert
eratic Carter.; ,or, as he would
tell you with Virginia accent, " Kudbut
lie-aster sah ! ' I,llong toile Ke-arters, one
ob de berg fast faMilies." Yoa see they are
all 'first. fan:Lilies in Virginia; that is- the
reason why, when, the war hegan, every
body wanted to be an officer. Poor Cud had
little• reason to pride himself on his owners,
,---" de fast blood in Virginy." •It may be
that " fust blood" flowe hotter and quicker
than second-rate Mond. It is certain that
his young master, Pcytotar4rrison, Daher,
—called Marse Pate 'for Shcirt-possessed`a,
fiery temper. Two years before the day
that Cud was standing t t hinlsing.slowly out,
ci 44*
his wh dt.§Bt ? t ca taftelltra,f Mare .Pate, in'
a - me nt'or i'alisl'oli:,`,liad;giVenhina a stun
ning bl - that dent:hip 'reeking down a
high , flight of stone steps. bne crash of
pain ,went through him as - though. every
bone were groird to atoms, then a great
dark came whirling doWn, .and he, was
pieked up=/dine foi. (Life. Poot little Clio !
crippled in mind,-a's well. as ; body by a great
wrong; fOr yod can easily, , understand, my
little readerd, that 'slaiery' - -,had given as
great a
.blow . to his „ inner lib:3,as his,fiery
master had given td;his, poor dOk.liody.
Yet`he was sh , arpin his way; too: lie could
not play like other children, or work as
hard, either, so he had more time to think.
He waited on table, and heard talk aboutthe
war and he had his own ideas about it.
Mane Pate had gone ' ' to fight, and Miss
Rose, his , young wife, grew , pale-and sad
and silent. The old Mit3Siß, though s —Marse
Pate's mother,—was• full of fight and fury
about the ” niggeestealers," as she called
the Federal Army. 1
Cud sometimes wished they would steal
him. . .
"But Massa Linkum couldn't make noth
in' at all out er me," he said, with a sudden
thrill of pain, looking down at his shrUnken
limb`; and alook of intense bate came into
his face, that , made it hideous. No mask
could have changed his expression more
than did the thought of Marco Pate.
But now a young lady comes out of the
house, and Cud is too shy to stand stta•ing
there'any longer. ' She walks slo Wlythrough
the garden path, singing something softly
to herself. Cad has heard it before, and, as
she approaches the gate, he catches two
lines,
" And, every, prospect pleases,
And only roan is vile."
"Reckoh dey is vile, sure enough," says
Cud, " specially Mq,rse Pate, wuen he's
riled:"
The last of the crimson chrysanthemums
had burned themselves out on the garden
border, where ' a
few fiery flakes still flashed
on the grass. Some ot,taWnY red or pale
yellow bloomed on sturdily still,
,but the
young lady did not pause to gather them.
She only stood a moment, and looked at the
—pumpkins, and a very sad face she had
the while.
" Reckon she's thinkin' of her mar's pies,"
said Cud, as he cast a reflective glance back
at her. And he longed to question her
about that wonderful land,—so wonderful
that to breathe the very air made one free,
hor home had been before she
came South to teach. But he felt too awk
ward and shy to dare to speak to the fair
Miss Alice, and he only slunk away on his
homeward road, rather frightened to see
how far the sun was sliding towards the
west. He had taken a long time to walk
that sbert Mite from 'Wheeling.
But he limped as fast asiiie;eotild; looking
neither at the white and feathery clouds,
nor at the pale and waning light, only at
the dusty beaten road that stretched out
before him,--looking at last, as he neared
his home, at something else,--something
that made him stop and drop back in a
frightened way. What was it that the men
were earrying so tenderly through t he gate?
A. wounded man, white and faint, with his
life dripping steadily away in a precious
crimson tido, a ghost-like likeness of his old
enemy, a shadow of his young master,—
could that be Marse Pate ?
It was indeed. The fiery heart would
not beat much longer; the fey rof life was
going out ;. the ashes of death whitened
cheek and lip..
.),
Cud had no time to• think,---time only for
a slow horror to break over him like a cold
rain, when a rough voice cried : " Here,
young un, run for a doctor !---anY'one, only
be' quick!"
Marse Pate's fast-dulling eye had, caught
sight of the shrinking figure. • .Something
more than pain contracted the white brow
",He can't.gq, he's lame," he murmured
q,Where's David ?" ,
- " Can you ask ?" said the Virginian moth
er, - sternly. r" , iWhere is the Yankee camp ?
One of these menanust go and at Once." ,
So Cud saw his ,- young master carried in.
Ho wondered if, he,,,should haVe to wai i t at
tea to-night,—if evcrything . ,wpuldze on as
usual, while the life, of master was eb
bing. away. He
_stele'` forlernly into the
kitchen where Old: Dinah had just finished
baking some fragrant corn-bre,ad, and
asked her about it "Go 'long, chile," she
said, not unkindly;giving him a huge bit of the
smoking pone; reckon fol is thinkb mighty
little O' their vittles when deaths in a
house!" and then she set down and threw
bier apron over her' head, and Cried behind
tha4 shield; for had unified - Marse: Pate
when he was a dear little baby, fair' as a
lily, with shiny golden hair.
Cud stole out silently. It was not half so
:lonely out of doors as in that great house;
where the shadowsspf a terrible dread had
fallen; ‘ A.friendlyiredyliAtf still warmed the
western S - 11, — and aff uld. looked towards it
he suddenly remembered; that there vas t°
be a meeting, this very night for enlistment.
There were plenty of Union men in Wheel
ing, and a Yankee, captain and a stump
speaker were coining druidthem up ..:;It
was pleasant to Cud to-night to think about
a crowd; and he hurried along shaking off,
as he went; the Chill and deathly' thoughts
which had troubled'him 'and singing . to him
self, for company,, negro hymn.
He soon reached the first straggling house
of the town. The door stood open, and a
light,was burning en'the table. Some one
was reading in a low. but clear voice. "Sit
.verand gold have Inone;'but suCh.is I have
giy9 4 ,‘ Lors 1" said ' ud, with bated
breath, '" wonder what he guy! A hunk of
hot gingerbread,, now, wou,ld, be -what Di f
;like,
Cud'peere&aniinuslyjn: ;'Some sick per
son 'seemed "le e f lymb'there 'on a bed,
i
gasping for breath • and kiss- on
was
reaps' soltrunly , ,the-pext " In the
natne‘icf SeimPof , NtislailliteiTse up' and
walk."
Cud fotot thee, political meeting and lis
tened Viall'lk-eoitld find that gate,"
he thought `sedly,Yrthatl'Beautiful ; but
reckon it's way up Norf eomewhar," and he
with l a lagging step, and
,sang po
more. •
" What of I did meet Jesus or one o' them
thar 'postleseor "reckon
he wouldn't qpeak.to a pore little pig like
ine'; spent ar Man dat tivas ctred' so as
he could caper about so spry-like was white,
for sure I"
Thinking such thoughts no wonder Cud
stumbled intliffif) place, and found
himself amon g the crowd of gray coats, where
aimpttiereekl hurfah" for Jeff
,Liavis woke
him
. ;114 Nal„s c a iiii.serable: oid darn lit
by a few flaring tallow candles, and looking
just readyrto.falbin on,the whole concern.
There was ..agood deaf of'confusion and
ca;er talking 4. then two or 'three of Cud's
own „coloy;ho stood-at door, were put
out. Cud was so small, and the room so
badly lighted, that he shrank into the sha
dows
and ifstayed. What lie should hear
some &eat - secret that the Yankees would
be glad to know:! He' would r go through
fire and water to tell it to them ; and then—
his poor liti,le ii r eart beat Vick with pride—
then surely gasps, Linkuthwould take him
into his service, and give him some good
place.
ISO he listened with his sharp 'little eais,
• ,
an" d whin the meeting broke up he was
sure he knew, something that the Yankees
would be gladto know. Their camp was
two miles away in a gap of the mountains,
—two long. miles. for to limp up hill,
that he 'might reach thenatin k titnet A rebel
attack was to surprise them before morning,
so he started at once.
* 'knew the way, for one sirrnmerj-the
time before he was hurt—he had bounded
along by Marse Pate's side on n, hunting
expedition. He ition'ght bitterly of that
time now, as he limped painfully over the
steep road, each moment feeling, a sharp
sting of pain stabbing the injured limb. He
was no hero, poor little Cud . and the tears
rolled down his thin cheeks;:he never
thought of turning back) not ;even when a
white rabbi t, , mad e a great. Whir in the leaves
and ran like a flash of light over his path.
The stars came out now silently ; one by
one, likeilittleipark& of fire, in4he ashen
gray sky. BUt, when the first silver bar of
ingonlighti r wtO laid on' the roa,d, gad k;hrilik
lifte. 118 helhadieen a' ghst. How
the trees shivered together in the wind, and
seemed full of strange whisperinc , -! What
qUeer dark'' - Shadows ran over the giOntid,
or danced
.. about him like mocking imps !
He:beg,•ati! to - sing , ;again,-trembling -av the
sound of his own voice.
. •
-; Dings wpc'niuSslve, ,j
Muss we go down to sin?
My Jesus opens tjte golden gate,,, „
And ax von} for walk { in."
Wuen he stood on the bridge, he gave a
quick look back at the road teat stretched
out white iu moonlight, as if he had ex
pected to see the tips of the shining bayo
nets parkling through the night. What the
Secesh caught him, and shoe him for a spy,
" Wonder if folks would year 'bout it," he
thought, " and know I done died for my
country," and the slow blood quickened in
his heart at the thought.
But the next moment he said, disconso
lately, "Beckon I aint got no country ;
spect dis yer „country 'wasn't made for nig
ger." B-it then the beautiful North !
would he ever see that? -andthe Beauti
ful Gate,
that must surely be there. Atid
Joins, tirhat if he wallied•there as he did of
oldoin .Tudea?•• .Be reached the high ridge
beyond the bridge;When - a sudden . strange
hoot startled hini.„ `giS t
,fOOC,,inkped,: the
loose clay and stones did frOin'Unde.r
and he fell crashing down at :the feet of a
Union picket, who 'hail:just emitted a 'hide
dus Yawn over his Nidary Work. fie'Stdi4Ped
tenderly enough
,over p t,,he, Ivy, for he had
children at . liorh, andliiibrgot the color of
this one: '
Poor lit l tle Cu!d 'Fiery thrills of laln
were banning out I fiie,,life,,,,bast be made a
mightTeffor t speak,,,
"-You're the' despatch , post, l I reckon,"
said the%thin, l " 44 for you , come quicker''-n, a
Streak •13 , lightffin/ ",
ORif ,*ls.-4,A§l*h
erner.bypiais, accent, ,He felt a great-whirl
ing in his, head; as though , a•hundred wheels
were turning there; arid , grindink Oat new
pains. -" Would it never stop r helhought.
-Air, yes, poor-little Cud; soon ! But he must
fulfil his misbion. He - raised his, head, alit: ,
tie„ ; anAskto;- pilre ( stay heie„Xank.
Was; gw,ine! lboys ; you'll do it a
heap better. 'em de Rebels
are com.re,mighty-9,,uie4; "em z ready for
'em, , 7 -0 7 -” Then the,, myriads, of wheels
stopped grind i ng, the Pain slipped, silently
away, and, Cud fainted. ,
-When he opened his eyes again he was in, a •
: 'pleasant room. Re was lying on alittle
bite bed; and the first thing he saw 'was', a
-picture-:of Christ blessing.the children. The
next . was the, sweet face of 4iss Akice, befid
inc, kindly over him. _Ho never- looked-at
her without thinking of' the white pond-li
lies he had waded alter many time. Was
this heaven, A
he wondered,ndMiss ,time;
a
aggell, But, the, plq:paip ,came thril
-ling back through -every,
,limb, and even
ignOtant little Oud kfieW that there :is no
pain in heaven. He looked at Miss'Alice
wistfully. " yered. you a readin' last
night," he said.
Did you, and what did I read ?"
"I liked it a heap;:'bout a lame man
gittin' cured at the Beautiful, Gate."
"Shall t read. it to Toe mow ?" she asked.
Cud - eagerly, Assented, but 'seemed very
I sad when-sire came to an end. ,
," I thort,
he said, " gwine to tell us
'how to git thar. lame you l. see,,an",l
riekon ef I eoula:;onee :.to., that gate,
Jesus might PO right sorry kg 4mb, and of
he could , care•me jes' , by- stretchin' out his
hail', 'peal% like he'd ,do,it mighty quick 1"
'Miss Alice did not smile.'A tear, instead,
came into her viblet.like eyes. •
" Jesus can come to.yon 'xthe said;
"just pray to him. •He died for you, you
know ; arid de you think he will not come
when yon call him ?"
_ .
" And will he cure me ?" said. Ced eagerly:
*QIII4 „he his afa,te, and Nrork 'fOr him
all my life, of he would."
Poor little Cud could 'hardly take things
in, a spiritual sense. The great wheels. We're
turning in his brain, and his breath came
quickly; but he prayed, 0 tor& Jesus, I
can never find de Beautiful Gate. Come
now, and make me well."
" Perhaps he Will take you tip to him,"
said Miss Alice, tenderly. " Would you
giVe yourself to him, to serve him there. as
well as,here
"Do ye think Sestuvwid do angels shinin'
roun' him, wants me 7 1 said the child; with
some wonder, yet more of joy, in his tone.
Miss Alice nodded, and then saw him ciose
his eyes wearily. She went to the window
and opened it. The chill gray sky, was
warming in the east with soft pink blushes,
the morning air came in little fluttering
sighs ; then rifts of gold broke throUgh the
pearl, and waves - of violet and crimson rose
over the distant mountains like a kingly
crown. Airy cloud-pinnacles melted into
golden mist before the sun; while nearer
rose the trees With foliage stricken by a
sudden frost into . Wondrous wealth .of scar=
let and orange. '
A strain of triumphal music swept by on
the fresh, morning 'aiy i .a sound of ishouts, a
snatch of the old air, " Hail, Columbia l",
startled the dying child.
" What—where is it ?" he murmured.
Ti - hera has been a ,alitimi§h i '
Alice, " and the Union.l2no won."
Cud - : raised himself, and a strange fire
flickered in his eye. ' " That's all along' , o'
me, Miss Alice," he said, with a sudden
fervor; " I done it."
Miss. Alice thought he was wandering.
She stillistoodiat the window; orate ingk tor.
the dOetnr, for whom , she had sent.
Now the-sun, breaking , fortir from inner
depths of 'rose, issued fioru the gateway of
the day. Odd looked at it' with clouding
eyes. " T see it now," he said,—" de Beau
tiful Gate." So he entered !p.—Helen Wall
Pierianiiii tie Vanuctri Ho. or` Our =Young
Folks.
Aloody;i4f-Chicago, has a way
of blurting out his sentiments at prayer-
meetings. Not long since 'd -,at nniA.9f those
meetings, some one rose an stated that the
Erring Women's Refuge; in that city, was in
great need, andasked - , the prayers of the
congregation in its * behalf. One of Chicago's
richest men, who .is,. , said- to be, somewhat
minute in his contributions ,to benevolent
objects, volunteered at once toNead.' the
Meeting in'a prayer in I ;beikalf of the institu
- I
ti on, nanied.- Awchticavely closed t when
hIr:'1021. Milbay"goT - felt ,Itifa.•
„sta.
that it was wrong for us to ask God to d,,
what he had given us the power to do our
selves. " The idea," said he, "of a man
who can draw a check for one hundred
thousand dollars, asking God to give money
to the Erring Woman's Refuge is propos
terous 1 Let him give it himself."
A DEATH-BED SCENE.
"I have nothing to
,expcct, sir, but con
demnation; nothing, to expect but condem
nation."
The. speaker articulated with difficulty.
Ile Was a large miry massiv . e, of features
and muscular of limb. The aveful,pallor of
the face, wa9 increased by the_ masses of
thick black hair that lay in confusion about
the , pillow, set off 'by the- dead' white
ness of his forghead, Struck' itoijarr itad
denly from full, hearty life to the bed of
death, he made there and then an agonizing
confession; such as racks The Attribr th lis
tener at .unhappy death-bede-4
A meek woman sat, nese-the rears "who
was striving quietlytto whet - Liao 'er
in
Oh, don't talk:Wang-of pain I" be cried
bitterly, is mind, _NOlllB,ll—the
mind ; " and 'ag64 nverelotid6d his face.
He continued slowly and, ;deliberifhly
"There,is a, dopic4,
.nhispering in fay ear, for
ever," You l lpe t w.i,,,t .tlicoivie, arid at
every tirrie6 sou know iV "Knew, what?"
"Why, t hat '`a penalty . muit tOflow a broken
me—flavi fiCrt
``tipefied'`a `Bible
for yefirio--4 havelnot entered a Church; yet
the verprecollection that my mother taught
nu,o, tO pray,.(and,,sbe ~.1. died ; yhen was only
Six); has passed judgment upon all sins.
I. have done wrong ? , knowiugthat,. it was
wrong; first with acfeteliiiialtris;thUiltnsh
ing aside rqOpsotepte, - and At. kit . the
. .
coolness of a l , , frend.!...:Sfropiorpellimirt.up of
all my life I I'ave not lived for Heaven ; no,
tot one minute." = '
But Christ died for ishirie'rsi`even' the
unconverted chief.";
" died. for ; sitingo ; but
my intellect is Clear, sir ; clearer than ever
before. I tell you"-14 voice aharened,
almost whistled. ' It WasVp'shrilraitl 'con
centratedcan see alrhOst•igto eternity.
I r can, fegl.,that unless , •Chsist fig rdeoired,
sought after, 10n,..-eik for—that, pnleso zpilt
is repented of, His death - cio
,do no good."
"bOrI , not' repentil iiiiva,ge at
my self,'- to, dthi nk-Act • think, . hir r" he lifted
his right...hand impressivulT r A4hat-44ove
so cursed myself. Is that.reßeritapce?
.nditfrY, to console ; r n . 4:lsithy
for those 'who will .bear it, for I cannot."
" Thank youf,.ruLrite ; 7 this as she wiped
his brow,.,and.: moistened ; ,}nis i parched lips.
"I an 'not dead to" kindness, if I.,am to
hoPe. I thank'You, air,, for `your Christian
offices, - thongothBy'4) . me no goOd. If we
know,sow thornS, You we cannot reap
flowers ; and
. c.9rp, wi 1 1,)„,n0t,,,,gr0w,,,fr9m the
seeentllliKes.rtea,von . was maile for the
holy; without, are dogs, whoremongers,
and adulterers.' ' Thee's a.distinction; it's
all right." - •
,
. After all that, till eleven o'clock, his mind
wandered; then =he slept• aJew moments.
resently,t r.ousest,by the striking of the
clock, he looked < around dreamily, and
caught 'the eye orthe nurse, and of his
friend:..:_
"It's swfally dirk here," he whispered ;
stand A n•
o-•the sippery edge of a,
great gulf. Oh, for some foundation I" lie
, stretched - hirlf-hand- (nit' as
• it feeling for a
.way. 7 -
s, ',
Christ is itke.4Rly am the Way,
, the.. Truth, and the , Life,", whispered the
man of God. . , • '
" Not for m'e I" tred• pen eaeriot &scribe
the immeasurable Woe in that answer.
"I shall" fall=l am falling!" he half
shrieked: in an instant after; he shuddered
and all was ever. The willfully blind, deaf
and maimed had - gone before his Judge.
The despairing soul had taken that last
plunge into eternity.
Dear reader—Stand in awe, and sin not.
Make sure work fore eternity. Through
grace do it now.
OLE BULL'S FIDDLE,BOW.
Ure see it stated that the bow with which
Ole Bull works. sylph : wonders is adorned
with. some very costly diamonds.. Some .. ,
wri
ter, says : • • .
" The bow is about three times the ordi
nary .Weight, and - •twocAnnties longer than
usual. The diamondd so beautifully set in
it are the gifts 'friends at various times.
The large one in t the end was the gift of the
Duke of Devonshire, ; .and • was presented to
Ole, Bull unds,thefolltring,oirpumsta,nees:
The'Auke's" tziistOr;'Lady'Graniille, then re
siding'in Paris, Nis about paying him 3
visit at his chataeu, nine miles from Lon
don.Raj~initheifamous tenor,
Were invited to he,present,at the grand re
ception, when each contributed his skill to
enliven the OCCaBi4111:. The duke being, how
ever, unfortunately.qui t ke deaf; could not en
joy many of the finest points, of Ole Bair'
violin-playing,, . and . priv i ately i told, s° , tit
the same time deSiring h j im,to remain alter
the company had
,dispersed, and take' din
ner with him alone. After dinner he re'
pleated' the artist to extemporize. BMOC fan
tasies on familiar opera airs; and, in order
to hear and enjoy the performance, he tie d
a cord to' the leild'of th'e'' Violin, and, taking
•the end in his Mouth, `seated himself oppo
site the musician. ' After plying for
gratiffeatiOit some cakaislerable time, th'
duke arose, and, after expressing his thank'
for , the great h§ppin, s ossAttak bad thus bee°
&ffolded him, and 10th — tears streaming
down, his ch eek4lPrig39o.,ed a magnificen t ,
diamond ring to thetoziolfnist, at the sari':
time rernarkpag,that it was a family rein',
. 9, it of
anti begging
th P , grelA RlP,lnkupiw,he bad giFen him 1 )3 -
l umoff'"-..-.. , ,,,keep it as a souvenir
rnatittrlylperfcirixtanceP ••