Chapter M: E. C (4)

"Every one knows that the shark is a most voracious creature. Its teeth are only incisive. It has no power of holding. It can snap and sever limbs, or trunk, or head, sheer and certainly as though its jaws were a guillotine. But in that case it secures only what is within the jaws. The rest is apt to be lost. Its habit, therefore, is to swallow the prey alive, that it may lose nothing. Thus God made the voracity of the fish the means of protection and safety to His servant."

HEART-WORK must be God's work. Only the great Heart-maker can be the great Heart-breaker. If I love Him, my heart will be filled with His spirit, and obedient to His commands.--_Baxter._

THE great design, both in judgments and mercies, is to convince us that _there is none like the Lord our God_; none so wise, so mighty, so good; no enemy so formidable, no friend so desirable, so valuable.--_Matthew Henry._

TALKING WITH A MAN SEVEN THOUSAND MILES OFF!

The longest wire in the world extends from 18, Old Broad Street, London, E.C., to 29, Cable Street, Calcutta, over seven thousand miles. A telegraphic expert, who visited the London end of the wire, says:--

We have often heard of the wonderful line between this country and Teheran, the capital of Persia, a distance of three thousand eight hundred miles, but we scarcely realized the fact that good signals were obtainable through so great a length of wire until recently, when we availed ourselves of an invitation from Mr. W. Andrews, the managing director of the Indo-European Telegraph Company, to make a visit of inspection.

It was between seven and eight o'clock when we reached the office. In the basement of an unpretentious building in Old Broad Street we were shown the Morse printer in connection with the main line from London to Teheran.

The courteous clerk in charge of the wire, Mr. Blagrove, informed us that we were through to Emden, and with the same ease with which one "wires" from the City to the West End, we asked a few questions of the telegraphist in the German town.

When we had finished with Emden, we spoke with the same facility to the gentleman on duty at Odessa. This did not satisfy us, and in a few seconds we were through to the Persian capital, Teheran.

There were no messages about, the time was favourable, and the _employes_ of the various countries seemed anxious to give us an opportunity of testing the capacity of this wonderful wire. T.H.N. (Teheran) said, "Call Kurrachee," and in less time than it takes to write these words we gained the attention of the Indian town. The signals were good, and our speed must have equalled fifteen words a minute.

The operator at Kurrachee, when he learnt that London was speaking to him, thought it would be a good opportunity to put us through to Agra, and to our astonishment the signals did not fail, and we chatted pleasantly for a few minutes with Mr. Malcolm Khan, the clerk on duty.

To make this trial of telegraphy complete, Agra switched us on to another line, and we were soon talking to a native telegraphist at the Indian Government Cable Station, Calcutta.

At first the gentleman at the other end of the wire could not believe that he was really in direct communication with the English capital, and he exclaimed, in Morse language, "Are you really London?"

Truly this was a great achievement. Metallic communication, without a break, from 18, Old Broad Street, London, to the telegraph office in Calcutta! Seven thousand miles of wire! The signals were excellent, and the speed attained was no fewer than twelve, perhaps fourteen, words per minute.

ANSWER TO BIBLE ENIGMA.

(_Page 235._)

"_Jesus wept._"--JOHN xi. 35.

J otham Judges ix. 5. E glon Judges iii. 14. S apphira Acts v. 1, 2. U zzah 2 Samuel vi. 7. S amuel 1 Samuel i. 14.

W ater Exodus xvii. 3. E noch Hebrews xi. 5. P otiphar Genesis xxxix. 1. T homas Acts i. 13.

RUTH CROWHURST
(Aged 9 years).

_Hastings._

MEMOIRS OF ELLEN AND HENRY HOAD.

"Around the throne of God in heaven
Thousands of children stand;
Children whose sins are all forgiven--
A holy, happy band."

Of the truth of these lines there can be no doubt in the minds of God's people, and a very blessed truth it is. There is a heaven of joy and love, and in this heaven there is the throne of God, and many dear children are standing around this throne, singing praises unto God and the Lamb. Their sins forgiven, their sorrows gone, their sufferings ended, death past, joy, and peace, and glory eternal now begun, who is there that could not desire to be with them, and to be as they are? Among this happy band we hope the two young ones--brother and sister--Ellen and Henry, whose names are at the top of this page, are now standing; and to give some reason of this hope is now our object in writing these few lines.

Many, alas! have hopes of salvation and heaven for which their life and testimony can afford no solid ground for them to rest upon, and whose hope will one day make them ashamed, and, like the flickering lamps of the foolish virgins, will go out when the Bridegroom comes.

Ellen and Henry were the children of praying parents, and, both of them being members of the Church at Bodle Street, their children attended the Sabbath School connected with that cause. The mother died in 1882, of consumption, and some of the children soon manifested symptoms of the same disease. An elder sister kept house, and as the younger ones grew up, they had to go out to earn their bread.

Ellen was sent to service soon after she was twelve years old, and not living far from the school, she was permitted still to attend; and certainly she was a girl that needed no constraint in this matter, for if her duties kept her on Sundays until too late for the lessons, she would even then take her seat with the class while she listened to the sermon.

How often children manifest a dislike to the house of God, and how soon there is an enmity appearing against good things! To many, attendance both at school and the house of God is a burden, and when they grow older they cast off all restraint and run wildly into sin. To such, parental control is hateful; the wise counsels of father and mother are scorned; the family altar, if possible, avoided; and their inward idea is that, when they leave home, they shall then go on as they like, and have their fill of pleasure. If any such children are reading these lines, let them pause and tremble, for there is an Eye watching their every thought, and an Almighty Arm that can reach them; and, sooner or later, there will be a bringing into judgment, and who can say how soon?

But certainly, with Ellen, it was her delight to go to the house of God. The writer has met her many times on Sunday mornings on her way, her face bright and happy, a stronger bond than duty binding her close to God's people.

In the autumn of 1887, the fatal languor that often accompanies consumption appeared in Ellen, and, though she bore up bravely for a little time, she had at length to leave her place and go home. Going home to die seems hard for young ones like Ellen to think of, yet there is no staying the Hand that strikes. The summons must be obeyed. In such a case the great question arises, "Are we ready, or are we not?" Ellen's earthly home had no mother to welcome the child, or to soothe her in her dying hours; and no one can truly fill the mother's place at such a time. But it was not to be long. Soon she was beyond the reach of mortal aid, and want, pain, and care had passed away for ever.

The father gives the following particulars of what he witnessed in Ellen, and it is well indeed when parents can give such testimonies of their children:--

"She was a very dutiful girl, and very quiet--so much so, that I seldom had to rebuke her; always very attentive at school, and, when out at service, she would attend the house of God if possible. All this was very good; but I wanted something further, and when she first came home ill, I wanted it made manifest that the Lord had begun a work of grace in her soul, and that she had been truly 'born again.'

"One morning, as I went home from chapel, Ellen said to me, 'Father, Mr. D---- has been to see me.' I then asked her, 'Did he talk to you? and did you like what he said?' She answered, 'Yes, very much, and I should like for him to come again.' Then, bursting into tears, she said, 'I should so like to be able to answer him better, but I cannot. I should so much like to go to chapel again.' And when her sister asked her if she thought she should get better, she said she did not know, but should so like to go to school once more.

"The night before she died, I saw a great change in her, and I asked her if she ever prayed to the Lord for mercy. 'Yes,' she said, 'sometimes I wake up in the night and pray to Him. I should not mind death if I knew my sins were pardoned. There is nothing to stop here for if I knew this.'"

The writer has seen her weep much, when speaking to her of the certainty of death and the judgment, the sufferings of Jesus, and the abundance of pardon through His blood. Can there be a more touching sight than to see a child fourteen years old weeping and praying in sincerity for mercy, as a guilty sinner before God?

Ellen died so suddenly that nothing further was gathered from her lips, but we believe her end was peace. She quietly passed away on February 10th, 1888, aged fourteen years.

In connection with her and her prayers and tears, these lines seem very sweet to me--

"Did ever mourner plead with Thee,
And Thou reject that mourner's plea?
Does not Thy Word of truth remain,
That none shall seek Thy face in vain?"

Henry was two years older than his sister Ellen, and, like her, had to commence work early, and bear the yoke in his youth. He had been a regular attendant at the Sabbath School, and was truly a promising boy. Quiet and serious he went on his way, and read his Bible, which, through faith in Christ Jesus, is able to make wise unto salvation. He was, in the leadings of Providence, called to labour at a place where he had some work to do on Sunday mornings, and it was noticed that he seemed put out in his mind if he was ever prevented from attending school.

In the spring of 1888 the same disease that cut down his mother and sister appeared in Henry, and he had to leave his place and go home. The teachers of the school and the friends around could see his days on earth must now be very few, and that he too, like Ellen, had come home to die. Yet he went to school a few times after this, and in May went to Hailsham to spend a few days with some friends. Here we had an opportunity of observing him closely, but he was scarcely able to say a word about himself. He was failing fast at this time, and truly it was sorrowful to see how feebly he moved about. When visiting the field on Whit Monday, where the Sunday School children were having their treat, what a contrast we beheld between the bright, healthy, happy children, and the poor, pale, languid, dying boy looking on!

Soon after this he went back home, and went out but little afterwards. He gradually wasted in body and strength, and could no longer attend the school, though living but a few yards from it.

And now came the time of testing the matter, whether there was anything of the work of the Holy Spirit in him, or whether it consisted in merely coming and going to and from the house of God.

Let our readers reflect, this time of testing is coming to every one of us, and we shall soon be brought where our young friend was--to lie down and die, and thus appear before God.

We will now give some particulars of his last words and exercises, and thus let our readers think for themselves what ground we have for our hope that this dear young lad is now in heaven.

His father writes thus of his concern--"I had watched him for some time, thinking I could see some signs of concern, and that he was different from what he had been. I was almost sure he had been at times trying to pray, but he would not let me see him if he could help it. According as his illness came on he took more to his Bible and hymn-book, and they were his daily and hourly companions. The friends in the school were much concerned about him, and talked to him about his soul, but could not get anything from him. Yet he seemed to like to hear them, so I asked him if he did not enjoy what they said. He said 'Yes,' but did not wish to say anything wrong, though he hoped that some of the things spoken were the workings of his mind. I was very much concerned about him myself, and my desire was, that the Lord would make it manifest that He had a favour toward him. Once, when about my work, I could not help asking the Lord for this, when these words came with some sweetness, 'At evening time it shall be light'; then I had a hope that the Lord would appear for him. Soon after this he had these words come with some power, 'When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee'; and then he expressed the hope that the Lord would be with him in the river of death.

"When he was confined to his bed he seemed very restless, and being in great exercise of mind, he folded his hands, and we could see his lips move, but could not hear the words.

"Once, when I came home late from my work, and went into his bed-room, he called me to him and said, 'I have had a blessed afternoon, for the Lord has been with me, and I can leave you all now, and everything of earth; and I believe that I shall go to heaven. I have prayed for you all.' I told him I was very glad--more so than if any one had given me gold, and asked him how it came to pass--whether it was by any word coming with power or otherwise? He said, 'No, but it was a sweet, humbling influence which so softened my heart, and drew my affections to the Lord Jesus. It enables me to bear my sufferings better, and I lie more comfortable.'

"A great change was seen in him after this. His mind seemed much brighter, and he laid more calm and quiet. I told him that he perhaps might feel after this comfort some distress of mind again, and he said, 'I have been in distress of mind, father, and the Lord has blessed me.' This was about a week before he died. We thought he would have been taken away sooner, and he felt so himself, for soon after his deliverance he called us all around him, and shook hands with us all, and gave each one something to keep in remembrance of him. I asked him then if he felt the Lord was with him. He said, 'Yes, I fancy I can see Him coming.' But he recovered from this, and I then said to him, 'The Lord did not come as soon as you expected?' and he answered, 'No; but I must wait the Lord's time.'

"He asked once that I would pray to the Lord to come and take him, and then asked his sisters to sing the hymn commencing, 'How sweet the name of Jesus sounds.' He then said, 'Oh, now I could sing!' I asked him if he could sing that hymn. He said, 'Yes, if I had breath.' Mr. Reed asked him if he could say that Jesus had done all things well. He answered, 'Yes, I have said so, and I can say it again.' He was then asked what his hopes for eternity were. He soon replied, 'Nothing but the blood and righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ.'

"Speaking to one of his sisters, he said, 'I hope that you pray to the Lord to be your Saviour, and that you read your Bible. Once I did not like reading it, and when father made me come in to read, it almost made me cry, but now it is the best treasure I have on earth.'

"I asked him if he had anything to tell Mr. Daw, 'Yes,' he replied, 'the first Sunday after uncle was buried, June 24th, 1888, when he was preaching from this, "I know that my Redeemer liveth," I felt blessed then, and the tears ran down my face, but the feeling was soon gone.'

"The hymn commencing--

"Awake, ye saints, and sweetly sing
The ascended Saviour's love,

was very much blessed to him, and he asked for it to be sung when he was once suffering much for want of breath; then he said, 'I feel as though I could jump into the arms of Jesus.'

"About half-an-hour before he died he cried out, 'Oh, what a mighty Saviour! I shall soon be before the throne, and sing the praises of the Lamb. Don't sorrow.' I said, 'Not for you,' and he replied, 'No.'

"One remarking how ill he seemed, he said, 'I hope I shall soon be better.' 'When you get to heaven,' I whispered, and he said, 'Yes.'

"At another time a remark was made about his pillow being hard. He said, 'It will be soft in heaven.'

"The last audible words from his lips were, 'Rest, father!' and so he died on the 22nd day of August, 1888, aged sixteen years."

Here the father's narrative ends, and truly we can hope that he went right to heaven, and that for him to die was gain. Brother and sister now lie side by side in the pleasant burial-ground at Bodle Street, awaiting the resurrection morning. Can we not, to close these few lines, also say the last verse of the hymn of which we have given the first--

"On earth they sought the Saviour's grace,
On earth they loved His name,
So now they see His blessed face,
And stand before the Lamb"?

J. D.

DENIED, YET ANSWERED.

When Augustine, in his home at Carthage, resolved to visit Rome, his mother wished either to prevent him from going, or to go with him. He would listen to neither proposal, and resorted to a trick to carry out his plan. One evening he went to the sea-shore, and his mother followed. There were two chapels dedicated to the memory of the martyr Cyprian, and he pressed her to spend one evening in the church of the martyr, while he would accompany a friend on board a ship, there to say farewell. While she was there in tears, praying and wrestling with God to prevent the voyage, Augustine sailed for Italy, and his deceived mother next morning found herself alone. In quiet resignation she returned to the city, and continued to pray for the salvation of her son. Though meaning well, yet she erred in her prayers, for the journey of Augustine was the means of his salvation. The denial of the prayer was, in fact, the answering of it. Instead of the husk, God granted rather the substance of her petition in the conversion of her son. "Therefore," said he, "O God, Thou hadst regard to the aim and essence of her desires, and didst not do what she then prayed for, that Thou mightest do for me what she continually implored."

HONOURING THE LORD'S DAY.

The following interesting incident was related to the writer by a gentleman, who had the narrative from the merchant himself to whom it occurred.

When a youth, the latter obtained a situation in a provision store in one of the great mercantile cities of the United States. On the first Saturday evening, he was told by his employer that he would be expected to be at his business post the next day, the same as usual. On the lad respectfully replying that he could not do so, as he had always been taught by his friends to honour the Lord's Day, he was bluntly told that, if he would not do what he was asked, he might come on Monday morning and get his wages, as there would be no further occasion for his services.

We may imagine how such a notice was calculated to discourage the youth; nevertheless he kept to his resolution, and, after a Sabbath spent in a right manner, proceeded on the Monday to get his discharge.

It was his duty to open the store, and as he was on his way to it, he noticed a man, as the morning was dark, trying to make out the inscriptions over the warehouse doors.

Asking him what he wanted, the man replied that he was a ship-captain, and was looking for a provision store in order to get supplies for his vessel, which was coming down the river with the tide. The youth willingly, forgetting his employer's unkind threat of dismissal, at once told the stranger that if he would go with him to his master's premises, he would be sure to find there the articles he was in search of.

On getting to the stores, the captain selected a large supply of provisions, for which he paid well. In short, it was an excellent commercial transaction. When he came to pay the money, the chief clerk, who had now made his appearance, made out the account, and saw that the notes given in payment were those of good banks--a point of no small importance in those days of unsound American currency. By this time, too, the stranger's ship had arrived at the wharf attached to the store, and the goods were placed on board of it, when it proceeded on its voyage.

At a later hour the youth's employer came to business, and the clerk told him that the new lad had been doing an excellent stroke of business before others were astir that morning.

"A very good price, too, he has got for the goods," said the master, as he looked at the invoice. "But," he continued, "depend upon it, he has been taken in, and got bad notes."

"No," replied the clerk; "that's all right. I attended to that myself."

Presently the youth came up to his employer's desk.

"Well," said he, good-humouredly, "what do you want?"

"Oh, sir, you told me I was to come to you to-day, and get my wages and my dismissal."

"Nonsense!" rejoined the master; "go to your work, and let me hear no more of that."

So to work he went, and kept his situation, and a good conscience. When our informant heard the anecdote from him, he had become a successful trader, God having blessed his youthful conscientiousness.

This incident reminds us of another of somewhat the same character, which was told us by a gentleman, now dead, who at the time held a very important position on the staff of one of our great religious societies.

"When I was a youth," so his narrative ran, "I was sent by my friends to one of the principal towns in an island in the West Indies, to be apprenticed as an articled clerk to a firm of solicitors there. My connections at home, although not Evangelical Christians, respected religion, and when I left, they counselled me to be always particular in observing the Lord's Day and reverencing it.

"On getting to my new situation, the managing clerk, at the close of the first week, told me that I should be expected to put in my appearance at the office on Sunday. I told him that I had been always taught not to do any work on that day, and that I meant to go to church. To church I accordingly went. On the Monday, when I returned to the office, one of the partners, a lively little man, looked hard at me, but said nothing. The next Sunday and the next I pursued the same course, without any objection being made to it. There were other articled clerks in the office, and they, seeing what I did, gradually did the same, without any opposition from the principals. In course of time, some of the partners ceased to come, until at last the little man I have named was the only one who came, and that for an hour or two. Even this in time ceased, and the office was shut up on the Sunday. Then, more curious still, the other solicitors in the town followed the example that our office had set, till, ere long, no business at all was done on the Lord's Day by any solicitor in the place."

A third anecdote connected with the Lord's Day may here also appropriately be given. The incident occurred to the grandfather of the gentleman who narrated it to us.

The late Lord L---- was well known as a brave warrior during the Peninsular War. His lordship, on his return to Scotland, was anxious to have some timber on his estate cut down, that he might discharge certain pressing debts. Without giving any notice of his intention, he called one Sunday morning upon my friend's grandfather, just as he was preparing to go with his family to church, and asked him to walk with him over the estate, that they might together see what timber was fit for cutting.

The grandfather respectfully replied that that day he had another Master whom he must serve, but that he would be ready at any hour on a working day to be promptly at his lordship's service. His lordship merely said, "Very well," and named another day, when the agent attended him, and did the work that was wanted of him, apparently to his lordship's satisfaction.

The matter seemed to have blown over, when shortly afterwards the agent, who had been many years in his lordship's service, received a notice that he was wanted to meet Lord L---- at the office of his man of business on a particular day, and in a neighbouring town. The request was an unusual one, and much surmising took place among his friends as to what could be the meaning of it.

"Depend upon it," said some, who pretended to see farther than others, "his lordship, though he said nothing at the time, has taken offence at your refusal to work for him on Sunday, and, now that the business is finished, intends to give you notice of dismissal."

The day came, and the agent kept the appointment, when, to his joyful surprise, instead of giving a notice of dismissal, his lordship told him, with expressions of esteem, that he desired to show his sense of the conscientious manner in which he had so long discharged his duties, and that he had asked him to attend in order that he might settle a pension upon him.

The reader may imagine his happiness when he found all his fears at an end, and had this proof of the approbation of his conduct by a divine and an earthly master. The worthy man lived long to enjoy Lord L----'s bounty, having died at the age of 102. On the anniversary of his hundredth birthday, some of his neighbours, by whom he was much respected, entertained him at a public dinner, and gave him a Bible, accompanied with the hope that he might have to the end of his pilgrimage the guidance of Him who had guided him "a hundred years."--H. M., in _Friendly Greetings_.

LITTLE JOHNNIE.

Shall I vex your patience, Johnnie,
If I write again?
Would you rather I should leave you
Brooding o'er your pain?

Does your little heart grow tired
Of the outside noise?
Will you never tell your sorrows?
Must you hide your joys?

Then I'll go to Jesus, Johnnie--
Go to Him, and say--
"There's a weary child, Lord Jesus,
Needs Thy love to-day.

"Listen to his father's praying;
See his mother's tears;
Speak, oh, speak to little Johnnie!
Speak, and hush our fears.

"He was born a wretched sinner;
Does he know it, Lord?
Thou hast promises for sinners,
In Thy precious Word.

"Speak, oh, speak to little Johnnie,
That our aching hearts
May be comforted about him
When his soul departs.

"We have told him of Thy mercy,
Told him of Thy wrath;
Told him of the untold terrors
Of the second death.

"But the voice that wakes an echo
In the silent one,
And the hand that opens heaven,
Jesus, are Thine own.

"Lord, we cannot help repeating,
Speak to him to-day;
Hope, nor prayer, nor mercy cometh
To the mouldering clay.

"Now the heart and flesh are failing,
Now the need is true,
Hell beneath, and heaven above him,
Stoop, Lord, lift him through."

I have said all this to Jesus,
Johnnie dear, for you;
Tell your mother if He answers;
She is praying too.

Oh, if you but hear Him whisper,
"Guilty sinner, come!"
Break away to Jesus, Johnnie;
He will take you home.