Chapter M: E. C (2)

SHEEP-SHEARING BY MACHINERY.--A public trial of Mr. P. W. Wolseley's "Patent Sheep-Shearing Machine" was recently made in the presence of a number of gentlemen interested in sheep-breeding and wool-growing. The result--says _The Australasian_--was a complete success. The first test was upon a crossbred sheep with an average fleece. The animal was closely shorn in four and a half minutes. The second animal was shorn in the ordinary way, and then operated upon by the machine, with the result that, in addition to the cut of the old-fashioned shears, nine and a half ounces of wool were obtained. It is claimed for the invention that it works faster than hand labour, leaves no second cut, does not injure the skin in the slightest degree, and can be so regulated that the fleece can be removed of any length desired.

A MONSTER TROUT.--A monster trout was captured the last week in July in the river Itchen, at Winchester, weighing 16 lbs. 2 ozs., and measuring 32 inches in length and 21 inches in circumference. The bait was a live minnow, and he was not landed till two hours after he was hooked. He had haunted the stream for years, was almost as well known in the city as Queen Anne's statue in the High Street, and had acquired quite a reputation for the number of rods he had broken, and the quantity of fishing tackle he had carried away. His captor was a labourer named Turpin, who disposed of him for L1 to a fishmonger, on whose slab it attracted almost as many visitors as a monarch lying in state. He was in splendid condition, and has now gone into the hands of a taxidermist for preservation.

A RATHER curious episode in natural history occurred the other day on board the French steamboat _Abd-el-Kader_, during the passage from Marseilles to Algiers. Just as the vessel was about two hours out, the skies became quite black with swallows. It was then about six o'clock in the evening. The birds alighted in thousands on the sails, ropes, and yards of the _Abd-el-Kader_. After a perky survey of the deck from their eminences aloft, they descended coolly on deck, hopped about among the sailors and passengers, and eventually found their way into the cabins, both fore and aft. The birds were evidently fatigued, after a long flight, and allowed themselves to be caught by the people of the ship, who gave them a welcome reception, and provided them with food, which they enjoyed heartily. The little winged strangers remained all night on the vessel, and in the morning, at seven o'clock, the head look-out bird had, no doubt, sighted the Balearic Isles, for the whole flock made for land, after having spent a comfortable and refreshing night on board ship.

FACTS ABOUT LONDON.--London is the greatest city the world ever saw. It has an influence with all parts of the world, represented by the yearly delivery in its postal districts of 295 millions of letters; it covers within the fifteen miles' radius of Charing Cross nearly 700 square miles; it numbers within these boundaries four million two hundred thousand of inhabitants; it contains more country-born persons than the counties of Devon and Gloucester combined, or 37 per cent. of its population; has, on an average, four fires every day amongst its 500,000 houses; has a birth in it every four minutes; has a death in it every six minutes; has 230 persons every day and 84,000 annually added to its population; has nine accidents every day in its 7,000 miles of streets; has 55 miles of new streets opened, and 17,000 new houses built in it every year; has a vast network of 2,184 miles of sewers and pipes for its drainage, and 2,000 miles for its gas supply of 55,000 lamps; has 1,000 ships and 9,000 sailors in its port every day; has upwards of 89,000 persons annually taken into custody by the police; has more than one-third of all the crime in the country committed in it; has 25,000 persons living in its common lodging houses; has 43,286 persons annually arrested as drunk and disorderly. It is further estimated that it comprises 100,000 foreigners from every quarter of the globe. It contains more Roman Catholics than Rome itself; it contains more Jews than the whole of Palestine; it contains more Irish than Belfast; it contains more Scotchmen than Aberdeen; it contains more Welshmen than Cardiff; it has as many beershops and gin-palaces, the frontages of which would, if placed side by side, stretch from Charing Cross to Chichester, a distance of 62 miles. It has nearly as many paupers as would occupy every house in Brighton.

LITTLE SCOTCH GRANITE.

Burt and Johnnie Lee were delighted when their Scotch cousin came to live with them. He was little, but very bright and full of fun. He could tell curious things about his home in Scotland, and his voyage across the ocean. He was as far advanced in his studies as they were, and the first day he went to school they thought him remarkably good. He wasted no time in play when he should have been studying, and he advanced finely.

At night, before the close of the school, the teacher called the roll, and the boys began to answer, "Ten." When Willie understood that he was to say ten if he had not whispered during the day, he replied, "I have whispered."

"More than once?" asked the teacher.

"Yes, sir," answered Willie.

"As many as ten times?"

"Maybe I have," faltered Willie.

"Then I shall mark you zero," said the teacher, sternly; "and that is a great disgrace."

"Why, I did not see you whisper once," said Johnnie, that night after school.

"Well, I did," said Willie, "I saw others doing it, and so I asked to borrow a book; then I lent a slate pencil, and asked a boy for a knife, and did several such things. I supposed it was allowed."

"Oh, but we all do it," said Burt, reddening. "There isn't any sense in the old rule; and nobody could keep it; nobody does."

"I will, or else I will say I haven't," said Willie. "Do you suppose I would tell ten lies in one heap?"

"Oh, we don't call them lies," muttered Johnnie. "There wouldn't be a credit among us at night, if we were so strict."

"What of that if you told the truth?" laughed Willie, bravely.

In a short time the boys all saw how it was with him. He studied hard, played with all his might in play time; but, according to his account, he lost more credits than any of the rest. After some weeks, the boys answered "Nine" and "Eight" oftener than they used to. Yet the school-room seemed to have grown quieter. Sometimes, when Willie Grant's mark was even lower than usual, the teacher would smile peculiarly, but said no more of disgrace. Willie never preached at them or told tales; but somehow it made the boys ashamed of themselves, just the seeing that this sturdy blue-eyed boy must tell the truth. It was putting the clean cloth by the half-soiled one, you see; and they felt like cheats and story-tellers. They talked him all over, and loved him, if they did nickname him "Scotch Granite," he was so firm about a promise.

Well, at the end of the term, Willie's name was very low down on the credit list. When it was read, he had hard work not to cry; for he was very sensitive, and he had tried hard to be perfect. But the very last thing that day was a speech by the teacher, who told of once seeing a man muffled up in a cloak. He was passing him without a look, when he was told the man was General ----, the great hero.

"The signs of his rank were hidden, but the hero was there just the same," said the teacher. "And now, boys, you will see what I mean when I give a little gold medal to the most faithful boy--the one really the most conscientiously perfect in his deportment among you. Who shall have it?"

"Little Scotch Granite!" shouted forty boys at once; for the child whose name was so "low" on the credit list had made truth noble in their eyes. "A poor man is better than a liar."--_The Lantern._

THE HYACINTH.

The sweet-scented pink hyacinth which had been brought me was beautiful indeed. It had not yet reached maturity, nor as yet shown all its resources of vigour and of beauty, but we took great pleasure in watching its gradual unfolding. Some of its beautiful double bells did, in fact, come out, and gave forth their delicious perfume. But one day there came a stop to its development, which made us anxious. Some of the blossoms faded before they had fully displayed their lovely hues, and the buds remained stationary in their leaves. Water, sunshine, soft spring air, were not lacking to them. The earth in the flower-pot was good, and there was sufficient space for the roots to expand, but it was speedily evident that the plant was dying. "At all events," I said, "I'll save the bulb." So saying, I raised the plant out of the base, using great precaution, that I might not break the beautiful white-red threads, which I shook, in order to loosen them from the earth. They had become wound together, and formed a sort of nest, in which crawled, twisting themselves as they went along, as many as eight worms.

It was certainly not to be wondered at that, with eight worms at the root, the poor flower should not have been able to thrive. I removed the enemy at once, and planted the hyacinth again under more favourable conditions; but it is to be feared that the sap had been too much impoverished for it ever to thrive again.

I seemed to see a parable in the history of my plant, and I could not avoid sighing. Why did I sigh? Because I have known so many young men and women who have disappointed the hopes felt about them in their childhood. The careful culture these young people have had from tender and anxious parents has not succeeded. These promising plants have been blighted because some gnawing worm, which their friends had not remarked, was at the root. It was vanity--the desire to shine--it was deceit--untruthfulness--it was pride--rebellion of the will against all authority--it was covetousness--it was selfishness--it was----But why should I continue the melancholy enumeration? It is God who alone knows the secret enemies of our happiness. "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," says the voice of Scripture; "who can know it?" "Out of the heart come evil thoughts," says Christ; therefore how needful for all of us is the prayer, "Create in me a clean heart, O God!" and how cheering the promise, "I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit within you."

J. Y.

WORDS AND DEEDS.

One of our party greatly needed some elder-flower water for her face, upon which the sun was working great mischief. It was in the Italian town of Varallo, and not a word of Italian did I know. I entered a chemist's shop, and surveyed his drawers and bottles, but the result was nil. Bright thought--I would go down by the river, and walk until I could gather a bunch of elder-flowers, for the tree was then in bloom. Happily the search was successful. The flowers were exhibited to the druggist; the extract was procured.

When you cannot tell in so many words what true religion is, exhibit it by your actions. Show by your life what grace can do. There is no language in the world so eloquent as a godly life. Men may doubt what you say, but they will believe what you do.--_C. H. Spurgeon._

IT is a great shame to a man to have a poor heart and a rich purse.--_Chaucer._

DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH.

"_He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground._"--GENESIS xix. 25.

The following extract from "Word Pictures from the Bible," by G. H. Taylor, furnishes a good specimen of pictorial teaching, and will serve to illustrate the lesson on the above subject:--

In the southern part of Palestine, and about thirty miles south-east from Jerusalem, stands the Dead Sea. It is a lake of about forty miles in length, with an average breadth of ten miles. On the east and the west, steep, rugged, and barren mountains of limestone rise up to the height of two thousand feet, and enclose the waters as in a huge cauldron. A death-like stillness prevails all around, unbroken save by the scream of the wild fowl on the bosom of the lake, or the footstep of some daring and solitary traveller. Its shores are deserted. No human habitation exists within miles. Even the wandering Arab approaches it with superstitious dread. Nothing can exceed the gloomy grandeur of its scenery. Rocks piled upon rocks, like ruin upon ruin, look down from the east and the west, and are reflected in its sluggish waters. In its immediate vicinity all vegetation languishes and dies, and the shores are covered as with a coat of salt. In the waters themselves no living thing exists. Everything contributes to the ideas of solitude, silence, sterility, mystery, ruin, and death.

Now there was a time when the Sea did not exist--when the ground which it now covers formed part of a lovely, extensive, and fertile plain. So lovely was this plain that it was likened to the garden of paradise, on account of its fertility. Everything which was pleasant to the eye and good for food grew there. There was one valley in this plain which was beautiful beyond all others; it was the vale of Siddim. In this vale were built the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboim, and some others. Now, the fertility of the ground caused the inhabitants of these places to be very rich and very idle. They forgot the goodness of God in placing them in such a lovely spot; and instead of thanking Him for His kindness towards them, they gave way to such a beastliness and licentiousness of conduct as one cannot think of without shuddering. Their very name lives to our times to designate all that is filthy and abominable in the conduct of men. They were not only licentious, they were proud; not only proud, they were greedy and uncharitable. Although they possessed in such abundance all that was necessary for the happiness and sustenance of man, yet would they not give anything to assist the poor and the needy. The Prophet Ezekiel says, "Behold this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom; pride, fulness of bread, and abundance of idleness, was in her and in her daughters; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy, but was haughty, and committed abomination before Me." All the worst of sins in the greatest excess were to be found among these inhabitants of the cities of the plain.

At this time there was living among them a man of the name of Lot, the nephew of Abraham. One evening, as Lot sat in the gate of Sodom, two angels, in the form of men, appeared unto him. "And Lot, seeing them, rose up to meet them; and he bowed himself with his face toward the ground; and he said, Behold now, my lords, turn in, I pray you, into your servant's house, and tarry all night, and wash your feet, and ye shall rise up early, and go on your ways. And they said, Nay; but we will abide in the street all night." They did not wish to enter; but Lot pressed them, and they went in, and he gave them some refreshment. That very night the angels communicate to Lot the intelligence that the Lord had sent them to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, and all the cities of the plain, for the sins of the people had become so great that they were an abomination in the land. And the angels said unto Lot, "Hast thou here any besides? son-in-law, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and whatsoever thou hast in the city, bring them out of this place." This awful news must have made Lot very anxious for the safety of his family, and accordingly he goes out and tells his relations, and bids them get up and leave the place, for the Lord is about to destroy the city. "But he seemed as one that mocked, unto his sons-in-law." Lot entreats them like a kind father who desires the safety of his children; but they only mock him in return--"Why should to-morrow differ from other days? Who ever saw it rain fire, or whence should the brimstone come? Or, if such showers must fall, how shall nothing burn but this valley?" "And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying, Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city." How destruction hunts the wicked! As soon as it is morning, Lot is told to hurry out of the guilty city, lest he should be consumed in its iniquity. Lot looks upon it, and thinks, perhaps, of his property which he must leave to perish. He looks, and lingers; but the angels "laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the Lord being merciful unto him: and they brought him forth, and set him without the city." No sooner are they beyond the walls of the city than the angels say unto him, "Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed." The command terrifies Lot. "Escape to the mountain--to a wild, barren, desert spot, where I cannot find food to eat, and where the wild beasts may destroy me? I cannot escape to the mountain, lest some evil take me, and I die. Behold now, this city is near to flee unto, and it is a little one. Oh, let me escape thither, (is it not a little one?) and my soul shall live." The prayer of Lot is graciously accepted. "See, I have accepted thee concerning this thing also, that I will not overthrow this city, for the which thou hast spoken. Haste thee, escape thither; for I cannot do anything till thou be come thither. Therefore the name of the city was called Zoar." As Lot enters the little city of Zoar the sun is shining. Everything was as usual. The sun is shining upon the cities and the beautiful vale of Siddim. The inhabitants, heedless and careless as before, are wantoning and revelling. Suddenly the windows of heaven are opened, and floods of fiery rain pour down upon the guilty cities and all within them. The ground takes fire; the wicked inhabitants fly, shrieking, from place to place, but all too late. The swift devouring flames follow them, and in a short time the cities, the people, all that was fair to look upon in the vale of Siddim, even the solid earth itself, are in a blaze! Presently a noise like that of thunder is heard. The earth, like some huge animal, opens wide its mouth; the cities sink into its jaws and are swallowed up; floods of water, filled with sulphur, rush over the place where they stood, and nothing is seen but a thick cloud of smoke rising from the water. That water is the Dead Sea.

These were not all the horrors of that dreadful day. Lot escaped into Zoar, but his wife, who was behind him, looked back, and she became a pillar of salt. The angel had told them not to look back. God was at that time showing her the greatest mercy, yet, contrary to His commands, she looked back, and became a pillar of salt. It may be that the swift flames overtook her as she loitered, or that God, offended at such ungrateful disobedience, punished her on the spot by immediately turning her into a pillar of salt. It matters not to us which way it was. In either case it was the result of disobedience.

THE BIBLE AND ITS CLAIMS.

I do not know whether you have seen Mr. Smiles' life of our late friend George Moore, but in it we read that, at a certain dinner-party, a learned man remarked that it would not be easy to find a person of intelligence who believed in the inspiration of the Bible. In an instant George Moore's voice was heard across the table saying boldly, "I do, for one." Nothing more was said. My dear friend had a strong way of speaking, as I well remember, for we have upon occasions vied with each other in shouting when we were together at his Cumberland home. I think I can hear his emphatic "I do, for one." Let us not be backward to take the old-fashioned and unpopular side, and say outright, "I do, for one." Where are we, if our Bibles are gone? Where are we if taught to distrust them? If we are left in doubt as to what part is inspired and what is not, we are as badly off as if we had no Bible at all. I hold no theory of inspiration. I accept the inspiration of the Scriptures as a fact. Those who thus view the Scriptures need not be ashamed of their company, for some of the best and most learned of men have been of the same mind. Locke, the great philosopher, spent the last fourteen years of his life in the study of the Bible, and when asked what was the shortest way for a young gentleman to understand the Christian religion, he bade him read the Bible, remarking, "Therein are contained the words of eternal life. It has God for its Author, salvation for its end, and truth, without any admixture of error, for its matter." There are those on the side of God's Word whom you need not be ashamed of in the matter of intelligence and learning; and if it were not so, it should not discourage you, when you remember that the Lord has "hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them unto babes." We believe, with the Apostle, that "the foolishness of God is wiser than men." It is better to believe what comes out of God's mouth, and be called a fool, than to believe what comes out of the mouths of philosophers, and be therefore esteemed a wise man.--_C. H. Spurgeon._

MANKIND'S MISTAKES.

It is a mistake to labour when you are not in a fit condition to do so.

To think that the more a person eats the healthier and stronger he will become.

To go to bed at midnight and rise at daybreak, and imagine that every hour taken from sleep is an hour gained.

To imagine that if a little work or exercise is good, violent or prolonged exercise is better.

To conclude that the smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in.

To eat as if you had only a minute to finish the meal in, or to eat without an appetite, or continue after it has been satisfied, merely to gratify the taste.

To believe that children can do as much work as grown people, and that the more hours they study the more they learn.

To imagine that whatever remedy causes one to feel immediately better (as alcoholic stimulants) is good for the system, without regard to its after effects.

To take off proper clothing out of season, simply because you have become heated.

To think that any nostrum or patent medicine is a specific for all the diseases flesh is heir to.

POSTAL SERVICE STATISTICS

The Right Hon. H. C. Raikes, her Majesty's Postmaster-General, has issued the thirty-fourth annual report on the working of the postal services in the United Kingdom for the year ended March 31st last. The record starts with a table, the figures of which convey some notion of the magnitude of the task undertaken. It is estimated that during the year the number of letters entrusted to the department for delivery was 1,512,200,000, in addition to 188,800,000 post-cards, 389,500,000 book packets and circulars, 152,300,000 newspapers, and 36,732,000 parcels, making a gross total of 2,279,532,000. Compared with the previous year these figures show an increase of 3.6 per cent. in letters, 4.8 in post-cards, 5.6 in book packets and circulars, 0.8 in newspapers, and 11.8 in parcels, the increase in the total being 3.9. It is calculated that the average number of letters addressed to each person was 41, of postcards 5, of book packets and circulars 10, of newspapers 4, of parcels 1; or a grand average of 61. The distribution of these figures over given areas was marked by the usual disproportion. Of the total delivery about 85 per cent. was in England and Wales (28 per cent. being in the London postal district), 9.0 per cent. was in Scotland, and 6.0 per cent. in Ireland. The total number of letters registered was 10,814,722, being an increase of 0.3 per cent.

The constantly growing work of the department necessitates an increase in the numerical strength of the staff. The Postmaster-General shows that the permanent establishment consists of about 56,460 persons, being an increase of 1,609 over last year. Of the 3,872 females employed, 751 are engaged as clerks in the central offices in London, Dublin, and Edinburgh, and 3,121 as telegraphists, counter-women, sorters, &c., throughout the kingdom. In addition to this staff about 48,900 supernumeraries are employed in the country to assist in the general work of the Post Office. Of these 16,000 are females.

The Parcel Post continues to be much used for the transmission of flowers, game, &c. It is calculated that over 12,000 parcels, containing upwards of 45,000 grouse, were received in London last autumn, and in the month of March vegetables in considerable quantities arrived in parcels from Algiers, while it was also noticed that in one week 3,787 parcels containing hats were posted in London alone. As an illustration of the use made of this service by certain firms, it may be mentioned that two firms in London each posted 70,000 parcels at one time, while a third posted 5,000 parcels. The total postage paid on these parcels amounted to L1,875.

The "Dead Letter" department, as it is popularly known, has been called upon to deal with 13,436,600 letters, newspapers, postcards, packets, and parcels. These figures mark a decrease of 785,387, which is attributed firstly to the absence of a general election, and secondly to the progress of education, "which causes letter writers to exercise more care and accuracy in addressing letters." The report continues:--

"Of the total number received 412,122 were unreturnable; 175,408 were registered or contained enclosures of value, and 25,726 were wholly unaddressed. Of these unaddressed letters 1,553 contained money and cheques, &c., amounting to L7,111. The careless and insecure manner in which the public send articles through the post is shown by the facts that no less than 24,727 articles of all sorts, including 289 coins, were received, having escaped from their covers or wrappers, and that the addresses had become detached, through insufficient fastening, from 4,578 parcels, many of which contained matter of a perishable nature, which was thus lost to the owners.

"During the year ended December 31st, 1887, the deposits in the Post Office Savings Bank numbered 6,916,327; the amount being L16,535,932, as compared with 6,562,395 deposits, amounting to L15,696,852 the year before, being an increase of 353,932 in number and L839,080 in amount. The sum credited to depositors for interest was L1,244,074, an increase of L74,484 over the previous year. The total amount standing to the credit of depositors at the end of the year was L53,974,065, being an increase of L3,099,727 over last year. This total is exclusive of the sum of L3,345,106 Government Stock held by depositors. The number of new accounts opened during the year was 794,592 as compared with 758,270 in 1886; and the accounts closed were 574,252 as compared with 562,499."

Dealing with the Telegraph business, it is shown that the number of messages forwarded during the year was 53,403,425, being an increase of 3,159,786. A reminiscence of the Queen's Jubilee is fittingly recorded. The events connected with the celebration caused an immense increase in telegraph work in London, amounting to nearly 60 per cent. over the ordinary average, and on the day preceding the Jubilee ceremony no less than 30,597 local messages were transmitted through the central station, the total number of messages dealt with on that day in the Central Office being 124,291.

THE most valuable, pure, useful, and durable of all metals, is tried gold; so is tried faith, among all the Christian virtues.--_Jackson._

IT is not enough in this world to "mean well." We ought to do well. Thoughtfulness, therefore, becomes a duty, and gratitude one of the graces.

NATURE HER OWN SURGEON.

Equally worthy of admiration, and all but equally complex, is the process by which Nature repairs a fractured limb, especially when the injury is such that the broken ends of bone cannot be brought exactly into their proper positions. It is remarkable, too, how she adapts her process to the different habits of her patients. In the case of a simple fracture, if the parts that have been disjoined are set close together in their normal line--if it be the leg of a dog, for example--there is first a hard sheath, called a "callus," formed round the fracture, and this "callus" permits a restricted use of the injured limb, even before the two parts have grown together. It is, however, only a temporary provision, necessitated by the natural restlessness of the lower animals. After the fracture has completely healed the "callus" gradually disappears. A human case is treated differently. Here, unless it be a broken rib (which requires the provision in consequence of its incessant motion in respiration), the healing takes place ordinarily without the formation of any _outer_ "callus." Sometimes the broken ends cannot be--or at all events are not--brought into their proper relative positions. Is it possible, it may be asked, that Nature can provide the means for meeting such an emergency, when, that is to say, the two portions of bone to be joined are all awry, and something quite new--in fact, a kind of bridge, and a bridge not merely serving the purpose of a solid connection between opposite banks, but like the bridges which carry the appliances of modern civilization, connecting the nerves, which answer to the telegraph wires, and the veins and arteries corresponding to our water and other conduits, has to be constructed? Nature's engineering is equal even to this task.--_Quiver._

ABOUT SWEARING.

A CHAT WITH MY BOYS.

Some boys seem to think that it is manly to swear. Passing along the street, one is shocked to hear oaths from well-dressed, intelligent boys, who evidently belong to cultivated Christian families. I am going to tell the boys a true story about swearing, which I trust will influence them to break themselves of this ungentlemanly and wicked habit.

"When I was a young lad," said a gentleman, "I learned to swear. I had a good Christian mother, and she had taught me what a heinous sin it is to use the name of God in vain. But I heard other boys swearing, and I thought it was very manly to swear as they did, and I tried it too. At first the words of an oath came stumbling along, and I felt all the time I was using them that God would strike me dead. But after a while I could swear as easily and fearlessly as some of my companions. But I never swore before my mother. I used the Lord's name in vain so often that it seemed as if He had forsaken me, and left me to my sins. I became wicked and reckless.

"When I was fifteen years old I went to sea. My mother reluctantly gave her consent, only because she knew that I would go without it if she did not. My father was dead, and I was her only son. I had no idea then what my mother's feelings must have been; now I realize what she must have suffered in parting with me.

"When I went to sea I swore in the worst manner. In fact, I scarcely spoke a word that was not accompanied by an oath. After a three years' voyage I came home. My mother met me with great kindness and affection. She had prepared a most tempting supper for me. My trunk was being brought into the door, when a misunderstanding between myself and the man who had brought it, about the pay, aroused my anger, and, forgetting where I was, I swore as only a rough seaman can swear. When oath after oath had passed my lips, I chanced to look at my mother, who stood near me in the hall. Her face was as white as the face of the dead, and an indescribable expression upon it that I can never, never forget. I saw that she was falling, and I put my arm around her to support her. She shrank away from my touch, and fell senseless to the floor. I paid the man the price he demanded, closed the door, lifted my mother up, and laid her on the lounge. I thought I had killed her. Oh, the feelings of remorse that filled my heart at that moment! But she opened her eyes, and seeing me standing before her, said, 'Oh, my son, you have broken my heart!' I assured her with tears and kisses that I would never swear again, but the habit had taken such strong hold on me that I found myself swearing unconsciously many times a day. My mother did not enjoy the long-anticipated visit of her only son. Her spirit seemed crushed, and I know she felt that she had lost her boy, and a reckless, wicked man had come home in his stead. With many tears and kind words of pleading she bade me 'good-bye' when, in a few weeks after, I started on my second sea voyage. At the first port at which we stopped after leaving home, I received a letter from my aunt, containing the sad news of my dear mother's death. Instantly that mother's face, as it appeared to me on the evening I returned home, was before me. I threw myself on my knees in my cabin, and pleaded for forgiveness. I resolved with God's help to lead a different life. But habits of sin, that begin in cobwebs, end in iron chains. It was not easy to break away from them. But every time I began to use an oath, my mother's face, as it looked that night, came before me. I shall never forget it to my dying day. With God's help, I have overcome that terrible sin. I would give everything I possess could I only speak to her once more, and tell her my sorrow and remorse. But she is silent in the grave."

When the gentleman had finished his sad story, he said, "When you are writing something for the children, tell the boys this story I have told you, and tell them always to remember that a sinful habit may begin as a cobweb, but it will end as an iron chain about their souls."--_Baptist._

THE WORD WITH POWER.

"Jesus, who lived above the sky,
Came down to be a man and die.
And those kind hands that did such good,
They nailed them to a cross of wood.
And, out of pity, Jesus said,
He'd bear the punishment instead."

An aged woman sat alone by the fireside, when Mr. ---- came in, and simply exclaimed, as he looked out at the window, "The Lord said, 'I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance' (Mark ii. 17). 'Not the righteous.' What a mercy that is." No more was said, and Mr. ---- left the room, but at night, when in bed, the aged one said to her sister, who occupied the same room with her, "Mr. ---- came into the room below, and, as if speaking to himself, uttered these words, 'I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. Not the righteous. What a mercy that is!' and he went out, and said no more, but they made the tears roll down my face. There is hope for me."

"A word in season" the Lord alone can give to be effectual. Then, "how good it is." Bless His holy name, He shall have all the praise, for ever and ever.

D. F.

_August, 1888._

THE PRECIOUS BLOOD OF CHRIST.

A fountain fulness still remains
Of pardoning blood from Jesus' veins,
Though millions have its virtues tried,
And from its riches been supplied.

And yet it ever is the same
To all that come in Jesus' name;
Not one that to it shall repair
Will ever perish in despair.

It makes the filthy sinner clean,
Though vile as I or Magdalene;
Here David lost his crimson sin,
And thousands more as well as him.

Manasseh here lost all his crimes,
And now in glory brightly shines;
Also dear Paul, of sinners chief,
From this dear fountain got relief,

And writes so sweetly of its power
To save e'en to a dying hour;
Yea, all the while he travelled here,
This fountain was to him most dear.

No saved sinner ever knew
Better than Paul what blood can do,
For he himself its power had tested,
And on its efficacy rested.

And all the hosts around the throne
Bear witness to what blood has done;
Their holy joy and heavenly bliss
Is concentrated all in this.

Oh, may this joy and peace be mine
When called to leave the things of time!
To sing of Jesus' love and blood,
And dwell for ever with my God.

B. W.

LITTLE HELPS BY LARGE HEARTS.

A friend had been sitting a little while by the bed-side of a poor woman--rendered utterly helpless from paralysis--reading the Scriptures to her, when the door was gently opened, and three neatly-dressed little girls entered the room, each carrying a small basket. One of them approached the bed, and after a few simple and kind inquiries, held up the little basket she had in her hand, saying, "My mother sent you this, and hopes soon to come and see you." The poor woman thanked the child gratefully, and said, "Put it away, my dear, for me."

The little girl seemed quite used to the employment. She went over to a cupboard, emptied carefully the contents of her basket, and with a modest "Good-bye," the three children withdrew.

The poor woman then gave an explanation to the friend who was present. "These little girls," she said, "are the children of a very respectable butcher, and every Saturday afternoon their mother employs them to carry about to poor people scraps of meat and bones. They are nice children, and take quite a pleasure in doing it, and they have given me, and many others, many a good dinner."

Now, who can calculate the amount of good resulting from the thoughtful charity of this mother? We read thus of God's redeemed people--"their works do follow them"--not to heaven for recompense, as some vainly imagine, but on the earth. Continually we see the truth of this in the effects produced, after the lapse of years, from works done by those whose bones have long been turned to dust. Who can tell the influence this weekly act may have upon these three children, if spared to grow up to womanhood? And thus, when their mother's place knows her no more, her "works will follow her."

THE PENNY PIECE.

I give the following from the lips of one who was well acquainted with the facts:--

A frost had been raging for thirteen weeks. The consequence was that out-door labourers, for the most part, were stopped in their employment. Among these was a poor gardener who had a wife and five or six children. He was at length reduced to great straits. He had spent all but his last penny, and had not the slightest prospect of more.

Passing down a certain street one day, he happened to see a poor man standing in the lobby of a church or chapel. His heart yearned over him, and he thought, "How I should like to help him; but I have only a penny left for myself and family." Still, he felt that he could not resist the inclination. He instantly turned round, stepped back, and gave the man his last penny. Immediately there came a peculiar light and gladness into his soul. Instead of being burdened by his destitution, he was relieved by it. He was rich in his poverty.

That very night the long frost broke, and in the morning he resumed his work. He had not been long in the garden before his employer appeared. Addressing him, he said, "I am sure you must have felt the effects of this long frost very much. Here is a sovereign for you." The poor gardener felt amazed, and, to use his own words, it was as though the Lord said to him, "Here's a sovereign for the penny you lent Me last night."

Reader, it is written, "He that giveth to the poor lendeth unto the Lord"; and again, "There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty."

O. J.

BAD men excuse their faults; good men will leave them.

A BRAND PLUCKED OUT OF THE FIRE.

While occasionally serving a destitute Church, between three and four months ago, I was requested to visit a dying woman. I found her in the most distracting agony of bodily pain, but rejoicing at the same time in the consolations of the Gospel. My visits afforded me much pleasure and edification. Being informed that she had been once a most abandoned character, I solicited a friend to collect from her own mouth the history of her life, and since her death have been favoured with a very interesting and circumstantial account of this monument of mercy.

When young she was deprived of both father and mother, but by friends was introduced into a genteel family, where after some time she fell into shameful sin. Her friends abandoned her in her disgrace, but after she had endured much suffering, privation, and want, they were persuaded to receive her once more, and at length provided another eligible situation for her. Thus restored, she might have lived in respect, but a particular circumstance which should operate as a warning, especially to servants, led her into a more dreadful course of iniquity than ever she had been guilty of before.[12] On the Lord's Day, instead of going to any place of worship, she contracted the habit of spending those sacred hours at the house of an acquaintance. Here she formed her most fatal connections, and to this sin of Sabbath-breaking she especially attributed her ruin. A bad man persuaded her to accompany him to London. Here for some years she lived a most profligate life, the circumstances of which cannot be detailed here, further than that sin which brings its own reward found her deserted, and in the Lock Hospital. After a dreadful operation she somewhat recovered, and went out, but only to follow her old sinful course. She was scarcely known to be sober for six years together. Her wretched course of life was a continual burden to her. She often prayed, if such an one could be said to pray, that God would deliver her from it, and accompanied her prayers with resolves to forsake it; but all her resolutions were ineffectual till God's time of deliverance was come. At length she determined to return into the country again. She met with many distressing circumstances by the way, and upon her arrival, her friends would not receive her. She was therefore obliged to apply to the parish, being incapable of getting her living through her disordered state of body. The overseers provided her a room in a house with another woman, where, soon after she arrived, her complaint assumed an alarming nature, and threatened speedy dissolution. In the awful prospect of death she was seized with the most distracting horrors. Calling to the woman with whom she lived, she cried, "I shall soon be gone, and hell will be my doom!" The woman told her she was mad, but she replied, with earnestness, "I am not. I know it will, for I am not prepared to die"; and immediately asked her if she knew where any minister lived? She had heard some whom they called "Methodists" while in the hospital at London. Even then she could not laugh at them as many of her unfortunate companions did, but was often much affected by their prayers and sermons, and looked upon them as men living in the fear of God. The recollection of this suggested the eager inquiry after them now. But the woman said, "They cannot save your soul."

[12] Young readers, mark this dreadful example of sin, and may the Lord
bless you with wisdom and strength to resist such temptations to evil.
If you would be spared suffering and shame, and spare your best friends
much sorrow, be careful what company you keep, and remember that God's
eye is upon you.

"I know they cannot," she replied, "but they can pray with me and for me to One who can. Go instantly and fetch one, for I am going to hell."

The woman still continued to laugh at her, and told the neighbours she was deranged. One of them, however, more compassionate than the rest, coming in, said she knew a good man who lived near. He was not a minister, but she would go and fetch him.

"Make him promise to come," said the poor creature, "before you leave him, and then, if he be a good man, he will come." While the person was gone, she cried to the Lord to send him.

He came and found her in the greatest agonies of mind. She told him that she was the vilest sinner that ever lived, described the course of life she had led, and concluded by saying she saw hell before her eyes, and that she should be lost for ever. He pointed out the way of salvation by Christ, told her it was free for the vilest, spoke of the encouragement there was for the chief of sinners who came to Him, prayed with her, and left her a little more composed. She made him promise to come the next day, which he did twice. In a short time after, her sorrow was turned into gladness, and she was enabled to rejoice in Christ as her Saviour, whilst the young man who visited her was reading the verse--

"Look as when Thy grace beheld
The harlot in distress;
Dried her tears, her pardon sealed,
And bade her go in peace.
Foul like her, and self-abhorred,
I at Thy feet for mercy groan;
Turn and look upon me, Lord,
And break my heart of stone."

Soon after this, God removed the violence of her complaint, and thereby gave her an opportunity of proving the reality of her conversion. As soon as possible she went to the meeting, but oh, the persecution she now met with from her former companions! She was obliged to remove from place to place to escape their violence. They pelted her with stones, broke her windows, &c., because, as they said, she was a hypocrite. But she was enabled to endure it with patience, and after a time procured a lodging with a serious female. Now she seemed almost in heaven. She could now go in and out, none daring to make her afraid, and could meditate in peace on the gracious dealings of God with her soul. She became a member of the Church in which she continued as long as she lived. She seemed to grow daily in an affecting discovery of the evil of sin and of her own vileness, and was often quite overwhelmed with a sense of the goodness of God, both with respect to her temporal and spiritual concerns. She was frequently enabled to rejoice in the Lord with exceeding joy, though labouring under the most dreadful pain, being literally full of wounds, the sad fruit of her former life. She occasionally experienced great conflicts with Satan, but the Lord graciously interposed, and brought her off more than conqueror. Several months before her death she was grievously afflicted, but in general very comfortable. On the Saturday preceding her dissolution, a friend called to see her, and inquired after the state of her mind. She said she was happy in God, longed to depart, and could scarcely contain herself. She was so filled with love to her blessed Lord, for His unbounded goodness to her. On the Monday, the person with whom she lodged said she was very comfortable in her mind. Her spirit soared beyond the fear of death; but through extreme weakness she could not speak much, and on Tuesday she departed, we trust, to sing the praises of that miraculous grace which snatched her as a brand from the burning.

CONDUCT is the great profession. What a man does tells us what he is.

ADMIRAL PYE AND THE INQUISITORS.

Admiral Pye having been on a visit to Southampton, and the gentleman under whose roof he resided observing an unusual intimacy between him and his secretary, inquired into the degree of their relationship. The admiral informed him that they were not related, but their intimacy arose from a singular circumstance, which, by his permission, he would relate.

The admiral said, when he was a captain he was cruising in the Mediterranean. While on that station he received a letter from shore, stating that the unhappy author of the letter was by birth an Englishman; that, having been on a voyage to Spain, he was enticed while there to become a Papist, and, in process of time, was made a member of the Inquisition; that there he beheld the abominable wickedness and barbarities of the inquisitors.

His heart recoiled at having embraced a religion so horribly cruel and so repugnant to the nature of God, that he was stung with remorse to think that, if his parents knew _what_ and _where_ he was, their hearts would break with grief; that he was resolved to escape, if he (the captain) would send a boat on shore at such a time and place, but begged secrecy, since, if his intentions were discovered, he should be immediately assassinated.

The captain returned for answer that he could not with propriety send a boat, but if he could devise any means to come on board, he would receive him as a British subject, and protect him. He did so; but being missed, there was soon raised a hue and cry, and he was followed to the ship.

A holy inquisitor demanded him, but he was refused; another, in the name of his Holiness the Pope, claimed him, but the captain did not know him, or any other master, but his own sovereign, King George. At length a third holy brother approached. The young man recognized him at a distance, and, in terror, ran to the captain, entreating him not to be deceived by him, for he was the most false, wicked, and cruel monster in all the Inquisition. He was introduced, the young man being present, and, to obtain his object, began with the bitterest accusations against him; then he turned to the most fulsome flatteries of the captain; and, lastly, offered him a sum of money to resign him. The captain treated him with apparent attention, said his offer was very handsome, and, if what he affirmed were true, the person in question was unworthy of the English name or of his protection.

The holy brother was elated; he thought his errand was accomplished. While drawing his purse-strings, the captain inquired what punishment would be inflicted upon him. He replied that it was uncertain; but as his offences were atrocious, it was likely that his punishment would be exemplary. The captain asked if he thought he would be burned in a dry pan. He replied, that must be determined by the Holy Inquisition, but it was not improbable.

The captain then ordered the great copper to be heated, but no water to be put in. All this while the young man stood trembling, his cheeks resembling death; he expected to become an unhappy victim to avarice and superstition.