Chapter I: HAVE found, by a strict and diligent observation, that a due (1)

observance of the duty of Sunday has ever had joined to it a blessing upon the rest of my time.--_Sir Matthew Hale._

OUR BIBLE CLASS.

THE CROSS OF CHRIST.

The "cross of Christ" is mentioned by the Apostle Paul in his Epistles to different Churches, but we may confidently say that the wooden gibbet upon which the Saviour suffered was never loved or reverenced by that honoured servant of the Lord, or the people to whom he wrote.

The brazen serpent, that divinely appointed means of Israel's cure, was broken in pieces by good Hezekiah, who contemptuously called it a bit of brass, because the Israelites worshipped it; and their idolatry is described as a base crime in 2 Kings xviii. 4, although it was a figure of Him that was to come; and Jesus Himself declared, "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life" (John iii. 14, 15); and the "true cross," if it now existed, would only be a bit of wood--a thing in itself worthless--and the adoration of it would be nothing better than idolatry.

"Christ and Him crucified" is the sinner's hope, the believer's joy, and this is what we are to understand by the apostolic mention of the cross of Jesus.

The cross was the sign, the illustration, of His sufferings and death. Crucifixion was most painful and most shameful, and both these facts appear in Hebrews xii. 2. He "endured the cross, despising the shame." With the hands and feet nailed to the cross, and the weight of the body borne by those pierced hands, the sufferer, who generally was first cruelly scourged, expired after long, lingering torture; and it was a shameful death, to which only the lowest and worst of men were supposed to be sentenced. Yet Jesus, the High and Holy One, "humbled Himself unto death, even the death of the cross."

But there was deep spiritual meaning in all this. "Tribulation and anguish" (Rom. ii. 9), sorrow and death, are sin's reward. "Dying, thou shalt die" (Gen. ii. 17, margin) is the divine sentence upon every transgressor, and "sin is a reproach to any people" (Prov. xiv. 34). "Shame and everlasting contempt" will be the sinner's recompense. And Jesus was His people's Surety and Substitute. He stood for them; He took their place. The Just One suffered for the unjust. The King of Glory bore reproach and shame for the sake of the sinners He eternally loved, that whosoever believeth in Him should have everlasting life, glory, and joy (Dan. xii. 2).

"The death of the cross," as Jesus suffered it, involved the shedding of blood, and "the blood is the life." "He poured out His soul unto death." "He gave His life a ransom for many," because "without shedding of blood there is no remission," no forgiveness of sin.

But crucifixion, unlike many violent deaths, did not divide or dismember the body. In stoning, the back was often broken; by other modes of execution, the head was cut off, the neck broken, or the body otherwise mutilated. The legs of the crucified might be broken to hasten death, but this was no necessary part of the sentence; and concerning Jesus it was prophesied, "None of His bones shall be broken" (Psa. xxxiv. 20; John xix. 36). And this also was fraught with deep spiritual meaning. That bruised and torn, yet perfect body which hung on the cross, and was laid in the grave, was but a picture of that holy soul, that perfect spirit, which He yielded up to God. How clear was His memory! That the Scripture might be fulfilled, He said, "I thirst." How perfect His love! He prayed for His executioners; He remembered Mary. How full His knowledge of His people, and how perfect His confidence in Himself! He blessed the penitent thief, and assured him of a home with Himself in heaven.

Oh, wondrous Sufferer! almighty Saviour! None ever died as Jesus died, bearing sin and guilt away, and overcoming death, while He laid down His sacred life.

The cross of Christ has a mighty influence upon all who believe on His name. Paul said, with holy earnestness, "God forbid that I should glory in anything but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world" (Gal. vi. 14). Once, as a Pharisee, he loved the world--the religious world--the esteem of men, the applause of his fellow-Pharisees; but now they hated and persecuted him, and he despised their favour. So, if we are led to behold by faith Jesus crucified for us, the sins, the pleasures, and the friendships of the world will lose their power and attractions, and the love of Christ will constrain us to live to Him who died and rose again for us.

We find that, when the Apostles were first beaten and threatened for preaching the Gospel, "they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for His sake" (Acts v. 40, 41). They knew that Jesus loved and gave Himself for them, and they, out of love to their Saviour, were willing to lay down their lives for His sake, or to live despised and hated by the world.

Before He died, Christ said, "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me." He foresaw His own sufferings from the first, but the joy that was set before Him animated Him all the while, and, as His people's Leader, He says, "Follow Me, and enter at last into My joy." But Jesus never said, "Take up My cross." Oh, no! His cross He alone could bear! His saving sufferings He only could endure! It is our own cross that we are called to bear as His followers, and His love will strengthen and support us.

Oh, that we may indeed know Him as our once crucified, but now exalted Saviour, and follow Him through all life's changes to the bright home whither He has gone, living henceforth to Him, and Him alone.

Our next subject will be, Psalm xxxii.

Your loving friend,
H. S. L.

PRIZE ESSAY.

HOW TO LIVE WELL.

We cannot live well without we acknowledge God in all our ways. A Christian cannot exist without prayer. Thus, in 1 Thessalonians v. 17, it says, "Pray without ceasing," which shows us that we cannot live well without prayer. To live well also means that we should obey and honour our parents, as enjoined in Ephesians vi. 1, 2, and make ourselves useful to those that surround us. And, in 2 Thessalonians iii. 13, it says, "Brethren, be not weary in well doing." Jesus Christ has also set a pattern, for He was always doing good. He even came into this world to die for sinners. As Jane Taylor says--

"Jesus, who lived above the sky, Came down to be a Man, and die; And in the Bible we may see How very good He used to be.

"And so He died; and this is why He came to be a Man, and die: The Bible says He came from heaven That sinners' sins might be forgiven."

If we are taught to live a Christian life--to trust in, and fear God--He will be sure to provide for our every want.

To live well is to try and always do the things that are just, treating people with respect, and to love those who hate us, and those who despitefully use us, for Jesus Christ's sake. He says, in John xv. 20, "Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted Me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept My sayings, they will keep yours also." If we wish to live well, we must seek God in little things as well as in larger things; for He takes account of the thoughts, words, and actions of men, which are to be revealed at the last day.

Living well also means that we should do those things that are pleasing in God's sight; for if we love and serve Him truly, we shall be happy here and in the life to come, for the righteous Christ will gather as His jewels at the great judgment day, and they will be happy for evermore in that beautiful heaven which Jesus has prepared for those who love Him, and do His will; for Jesus says, in John xiv. 3, "If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto Myself; that where I am, there ye may be also."

To live well is to live as expecting every day to be our last, and to be looking for that time when the trump of the archangel shall sound, and all the dead arise from their graves. We do not know the day, nor the hour, when the Son of Man shall come to judge the quick and the dead, for it says, in Matthew xxiv. 36, "But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels in heaven, but My Father only."

Newton expresses in the following verse some good thoughts upon the right way to learn how to live, and that is, by seeking God's direction--

"Show me what I have to do; Every hour my strength renew; Let me live a life of faith; Let me die Thy people's death."

LILLY RUSH
(Aged 13 years).

_Red House, Thornham, near Eye, Suffolk._

[There have been several creditable Essays sent, but none that have reached the desired mark. We may mention those by Ernest Sawyer, Margaret Creasey, E. B. Knocker, Jane Bell, Maria Reeder, E. T. Mann, Edith Hirst, Ella Saunders, W. B. Beckwith (aged 11 years), A. Pease, Sarah Hicks, and Jesse Hammond. The age of the writer must always be given.]

[The writer of the above Essay receives a copy of THE LITTLE GLEANER (cloth).

The subject for March will be, "Self-Help," and a kind friend has promised a copy of "From the Loom to a Lawyer's Gown; or, Self-Help that was not all for Self," for the best Essay. We hope we shall have some good Essays on the subject. All competitors must give a guarantee that they are under fifteen years of age, and that the Essay is their own composition, or the papers will be passed over, as the Editor cannot undertake to write for this necessary information. Papers must be sent direct to the Editor, Mr. T. Hull, 117, High Street, Hastings, by the first of February.]

A CHILD'S PRAYER.

SUITABLE FOR THE NEW YEAR.

Oh, blessed Jesus, care for me,
And wash me in Thy blood;
Teach me to ever look to Thee,
And help me to be good.

Give me Thy Holy Spirit, Lord,
And teach me how to pray;
Oh, let me understand Thy Word,
And take my sins away.

Whene'er I'm tempted to do wrong,
Oh, let me think of Thee;
Help me to always guard my tongue,
When naughty I would be.

Teach me to tread the narrow way,
Which all Thy saints have trod;
And guard and guide me every day;
Be Thou my Lord and God.

Help me to trust in Thee alone,
And not have fear of men;
To seek Thy will before my own,
For Jesus' sake. Amen.

JANE BELL
(Aged 14 years).

_Sleaford._

Interesting Items.

A RARELY-BLOOMING FLOWER.--In one of the conservatories at Hamilton Palace gardens there is a fine specimen of the _Angeavia variegata_ in full bloom. The tradition is, that the plant only flowers once in a hundred years.

STEAM heating and electric lighting of trains is receiving very close attention from a number of the leading railway managers in the United States. On some roads the change has been decided upon, and cars are being reconstructed on the new plans as rapidly as possible.

PILOTS' PAY.--From London to Gravesend the pilot's fee may range from 18s. to L7 18s., and from Gravesend to the Nore from L1 12s. to L7 8s.; and while a vessel drawing less than seven feet of water is piloted from the Downs to the Isle of Wight for L3 4s., one that draws twenty-five feet will cost for the same distance, either way, as much as L14 6s.

ROMANISM in America is throwing off its sheep's clothing, and revealing its wolfish nature. The following is an extract from one of its journals, the _Western Watchman_--"Protestantism! We would draw and quarter it. We would impale it and hang it up for crows' nests. We would tear it with pincers, and fire it with hot irons. We would fill it with molten lead, and sink it in hell fire a hundred fathoms deep." Only the genius that invented the multiform cruelties of the Inquisition could express itself in such an infernally varied vocabulary of torture.

THE WARRANT FOR BUNYAN'S LAST IMPRISONMENT.--Among the Chauncy collection of autographs recently dispersed by Messrs. Sotheby, there lay, hidden and unnoticed, the original warrant under which Bunyan was apprehended for that third and final imprisonment of some six months' duration, during which, according to his latest biographer, he wrote the first part of "The Pilgrim's Progress." It fills a half-sheet of foolscap, and is dated March 4th, 1674-5, under the hands and seals of twelve justices, six of them, either then or in the Parliament of 1678, members for county or borough, and three of whom had originally committed him for the previous twelve years' imprisonment.

COMPOSITION DURING SLEEP.--Lord Thurlow told his nephew that, when young, he read much at night, and that once, while at college, having been unable to complete a particular line in a Latin poem he was composing, it rested so on his mind that he dreamed of it, completed it in his sleep, wrote it out next morning, and received many compliments on its classical and felicitous turn. In my own experience, I have imagined myself, during sleep, to be listening to instrumental music quite new to me, and have been able to reproduce the melody next day; and I have now in my possession a MS. copy of a Dead March composed by the author, from whom I had it, in a dream.--_Correspondent of "Notes and Queries._"

THE DANGERS OF EATING ORANGE PEEL.--It is a very bad habit to eat orange peel. Nor is the juvenile habit of eating apples with the peel on to be recommended either. Parents who do not care as yet to correct these evil propensities will perhaps be more inclined to do so when they hear that the little black specks which may be found on the skins of oranges and apples that have been kept some time are clusters of fungi, precisely similar to those to which whooping-cough is attributed. Dr. Tschamer, of Graz, who has made the discovery, scraped some of these black specks off an orange, and introduced them into his lungs by a strong inspiration. Next day he was troubled with violent tickling in the throat, which by the end of the week had developed into an acute attack of whooping-cough.

A BRAVE CHILD.--One day recently at Sandown, while a gentleman was showing his little girl how Lion, a splendid St. Bernard dog, and a great favourite in the family, caught pieces of biscuit in his mouth, the poor child stole up to put her arm round the dog's neck. Unhappily Lion was so engrossed, he never heard the fairy footstep. Taking the little face for a dainty morsel intended for him, he sharply closed his large teeth in the tender cheek and nostril. Elsie bravely struggled to conceal the blood which fast flowed from the wound, and assured her mother without a tear that she was "far more frightened than hurt." Lion, who had been taught to apologise for wrong-doing by standing up, at once assumed that plaintive attitude, while Elsie entreated his master not to punish him, as she knew "it was all a mistake." The little face is still strapped up, but as the dog was perfectly healthy, the only fear entertained is that a permanent mark may be left there. One lasting impression was certainly made. The self-control and calmness of the mother, who saw the sharp, sudden bite inflicted on her only child, and the unflinching courage displayed by Elsie while she pleaded for the dumb friend who had so unwittingly injured her, will never be forgotten by Lion's master or any one who witnessed the unfortunate incident.--_Lady's Pictorial._

THE GENERAL AND THE SPARROW.--General Robert E. Lee was one of the bravest soldiers and ablest leaders of the Southern States armies in the great American Civil War. Along with an almost culpable indifference to danger he joined an intense love for animals and a deep feeling for the helpless, as the following story will show. He was once visiting a battery near Richmond, in Virginia, when the soldiers (with whom he was immensely popular) crowded round him, and thus offered a good target for the enemy's fire. Lee at once bade them retire to the rear, out of reach of harm. The men did so, but--as if unaware of the risk he ran--he walked across the yard, and picked up some object from the ground, and put it on a tree branch above his head. It was afterwards found that this object was an unfledged sparrow, which had fallen out of its nest, and which the general had restored to its home at such imminent danger to himself.

THE END OF A DOG'S QUARREL.--One day, a fine Newfoundland dog and a mastiff had a sharp discussion over a bone, and warred away as angrily as two boys. They were fighting on a bridge, and before they knew it, over they went into the water. The banks were so high that they were forced to swim some distance before they came to a landing-place. It was very easy for the Newfoundlander. He was as much at home in the water as a seal. But not so poor Bruce. He struggled and tried to swim, but made little headway. The Newfoundland dog quickly reached the land, and then turned to look at his old enemy. He saw plainly that his strength was fast failing, and that he was likely to drown, so what should the noble fellow do but plunge in, seize him gently by the collar, and, keeping his nose above water, tow him safely into port. It was funny to see these dogs look at each other as they shook their wet coats. Their glance said as plainly as words, "We'll never quarrel any more."

THE following tragical story of a pen is deeply interesting, since to an instrument in itself so humble the death of a little Liverpool schoolboy is due. The lad, sitting at his desk at St. Anthony's School, saw on the floor a piece of paper which he wished to pick up. To leave his right hand free he put his pen in his breast pocket. He was sitting at the end of a bench, from which, in stooping, he fell to the floor. The weight of his body fell on the point of the pen. The nib pierced the poor little fellow's heart. Amid the silent work of the writing lesson his cry of agony rang out with startling effect, and a whole town, hearing of a boy's death from such a cause, shares the painful surprise of the school-room. The one ray of relief in this painful story shines over the grief-stricken home. The public sympathy directed to this house, finds it inhabited by a struggling widow, with four young children still surviving. A subscription is forthwith got up for her benefit, and the son's death is likely to be the means of saving the mother from destitution.

THE Manchester Ship Canal will be a stone-banked stream, 25 feet in depth, and at least 120 feet in width, supplied with numerous docks, crossed by lofty bridges for trains, and swing-bridges for road traffic, and forming a waterway in which the biggest steamships and sailing vessels will be able to pass one another at a fair speed. It will be wider and deeper than the Suez Canal, and will depend for its construction chiefly on the huge steam excavators, which are a kind of cross between cranes and the dredgers we see in rivers and harbours, and which remove a cubic yard of soil at a time. It will enable Manchester to send her calicoes direct to all quarters of the globe, and will tap the chemical region of Runcorn, and the salt districts of Cheshire, saving the present cost of transhipment of a million tons per annum of the latter condiment. Nearly 20,000 men will find employment for the next four years in the construction of this big canal for the passage of ocean ships between Liverpool and Manchester. The first sod has been quietly cut with a navvy's spade by Lord Egerton of Tatton, the chairman of the company, in the presence of twenty directors and a few shareholders, at Eastham, where the canal will lead out of the Mersey.

HANOVER BAPTIST SUNDAY SCHOOL, TUNBRIDGE WELLS.--The half-yearly meeting of the above school was held on Wednesday, October 26th. The meeting was presided over by the Superintendent, who in a few opening remarks urged the parents to try and send their children to school in time, and in the morning as well as the afternoon; after which the children recited their various pieces to the Pastor, Mr. Newton. Mr. Botten then proceeded to give away the rewards, which he said he hoped they would prize, and lend to their brothers and sisters to read if they wanted them; and he hoped they would never read the pernicious books and periodicals that found such favour amongst boys in our day, but, if they were offered a book to read, to show it to father and mother, and, if they did not mind their reading it, then all right. In conclusion, he wished the teachers God-speed in the work. Mr. Saltmarsh and Mr. House also gave parcels of books away, and a pleasant meeting was brought to a close by singing the hymn, "Around the throne of God in heaven," Mr. Newton concluding with prayer. Each child received a bun on departing.

W. L. W.

WHAT A TRACT MAY DO.

Often, as we journey from place to place by rail, we notice with peculiar interest the newsboys at the different stations as they politely inquire, "Paper, sir?" and, as we think what advantages they have of reading the different kinds of papers and books which pass through their hands, we wonder, as we look upon them, what kind of reading they prefer, good or bad; and, from the appearance of many, we fear it is the latter. We know that many young people of both sexes prefer light, foolish, and fictitious books, over which they spend a lot of their precious time, reading made-up tales--things that never occurred--and we say, What a pity that they should thus waste their time in doing worse than nothing, when they might be storing their minds with useful knowledge!

We hope our young friend in the illustration is not one of these, for, as we look upon his open and pleasant countenance, we are inclined to believe he is not, in mind, of such a low order; and, while he may have to carry books and papers which we should advise him never to read, we can but reflect as to the power for good of such an agency, if used for the spread of pure Scriptural truth. Oh, that it were so! Who can tell, if good books and tracts were thus scattered, what good might result therefrom?

We have read with pleasure, and here give to our readers, the following narrative, showing the way the Lord sometimes signally blesses even the giving of a tract to a stranger, and may many be encouraged to "go and do likewise":--

Roger M---- was one of a family resident in the town of D----, where his first days were spent, without anything remarkable taking place to distinguish his boyhood from that of many around him. It was, however, his privilege, though unvalued at the time, to receive religious training in a Sabbath School. It is not known that at this period any particular progress was made by him in any department of useful or of religious knowledge. Indeed, his after-course would rather prove that, like many who have enjoyed similar advantages, he grew up only to show that, by nature, he possessed a heart averse from God, and prone to depart from Him.

In the course of time Roger M----was placed with a respectable tradesman of his native town, with a fair prospect of becoming acquainted with a business in which he might have obtained an honest livelihood; but he turned his back on his friends and prospects, and enlisted in the marines. From his own lips the subsequent account of himself was derived.

Year after year passed on, and though often engaged in scenes of carnage and bloodshed, he was yet wonderfully preserved both from wounds and death. At length, just on the eve of the battle of Waterloo, he was drafted from his ship to take a part in that fearful and eventful conflict. Amidst wounds and slaughter, and disabled and dying comrades, he stood unscathed; and after the peace which followed on that memorable victory, he was discharged from the service, and took up his residence in the city of E----. Here, however, he only lived to prove how ineffectual, of themselves, are the most terrible scenes savingly to touch the rebellious heart of man, or even to awaken the mind to any just sense of the amazing goodness and long-suffering of God, independently of the grace and influence of the Holy Spirit. He spent his days in a life of dissipation and drunkenness, unmoved by any reflection on the past, or by any regard for the future. Yet was there mercy in store for Roger M----. God's ways are not as our ways, neither His thoughts as our thoughts.

Returning home one evening in a state of intoxication, a lady placed in his hand a religious tract, which, by the mercy of God, he carried home, and the next morning read. It is not easy to describe the state of feeling that arose in his heart from its perusal. His own account of that moment was deeply affecting. Conviction of sin, remorse, alarm of conscience, strong desire after peace and pardon, the cry of the jailor, "What must I do to be saved?"--all, in tumultuous conflict, agitated his spirit. Day after day, week after week, he sought relief to his mind, and direction to his anxious heart, by entering various places of worship in the city. At length in a little chapel he found that which his soul longed for. The word of peace, the glad tidings of salvation through the blood of Christ, came home with power to his heart, and he obtained peace through believing.

Having become "a new creature in Christ Jesus," he next lived a new life, and rendered up himself a living sacrifice to the great Redeemer. As Roger M---- had pursued a course of sin unto death, so now he pursued a course of obedience unto righteousness, the end of which is eternal life. A new life had opened upon him, and as a soldier of the cross he served Jesus Christ, his new Captain, with humble zeal and holy joy.

In the last interview which the writer had with him, his expressions of overwhelming love to Jesus were most fervent. Tears of gratitude rolled down his thin, furrowed cheeks as, with emphasis, and a feeling most touching, he acknowledged the debt of love which he owed to his beloved Lord. Never did the writer witness so strong an exhibition of heartfelt, deep, religious feeling. Roger could speak of nothing but the unmerited and wonderful love of his Lord and Saviour, and of His amazing goodness in sparing and saving so vile a transgressor.

When the burst of feeling had a little subsided, he expressed a strong desire to see his former teacher, then an aged Christian. An interview was sought for him, that he might express his gratitude to his instructor in the days of his youth, and thank him for all the good counsels which had then been given him. Here, again, the sobs and tears of the humble child of God burst forth anew, and the friend who accompanied him was obliged to shorten the interview, from fear of the consequences to both the old men. The scene will never be obliterated from the memory of him who pens this recital, nor the conviction, moreover, of the deep-seated piety and gratitude of the penitent veteran.

One thing amongst others which Roger confessed was this--that, in the midst of the conflicts in which he had been engaged, the lessons and truths presented to him in the Sabbath School were constantly rushing into his mind with indescribable freshness, producing a conflict there, compared with which that without was as nothing. Yet, strange to say, this resulted in no real conviction or conversion when the danger was past. It was not till the little messenger of mercy had reached his hand, and its truths, by divine mercy, touched his heart, that he became a contrite sinner and humble suppliant at the feet of Jesus, and at length was brought to know that, "being justified by faith," he had "peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" (Rom. v. 1).

One point in the character of this converted sinner remains to be mentioned--that, although latterly so afflicted by entire deafness as to require communication by means of writing, yet was he constant in his attendance at the house of God, where, as one of the true circumcision, he doubtless "worshipped God in the spirit, rejoiced in Christ Jesus, and had no confidence in the flesh" (Phil. iii. 3).

He has long since gone to the unseen world to be with Jesus, "which is far better."

This narrative affords no small encouragement to those who distribute, even under unpromising circumstances, those leaves which are intended for the healing of the soul. "Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days." "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good" (Eccles. xi. 6).

ANSWER TO SCRIPTURE ENIGMA.

(_Page 10._)

The Farmer is the Lord. "I am the true Vine, and My Father is the Husbandman," said the Son, Jesus (John xv. i). The farm is the Bible, and the sixty-six fields are the books thereof. The Bible is sown all over with spiritual food, which is the Word of God, for His people. Those people who seek after the Lord must have a will to come, and patience to wait for an answer. There are some people who have the Bible, but have no desire after the Lord; but they find other things they think better of than seeking after the Lord. There are some people who say they hate the Lord, and the Bible, and there is not a minister that they will say a good word to. This, Jesus and His servants can vouch for a truth. The people who live in those low-built houses are those who are humble in the sight of the Lord; and not far from where they dwell the ministers live, and they think it a great liberty to speak a few words to the ministers, and, as for the Lord, they often feel they dare not attempt to speak to Him. But the Lord says, in Luke xii. 32, "Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." You would almost wonder how these people exist; but they get a little help from the Lord now and then, which keeps them alive.

And then it is said, one came to the Bible, and looked in the Book of Ruth, but could not gather anything; and Christians cannot gather anything from God's Word unless God opens it to them; and if they do not get good out of one part of the Bible they go to another, and would be glad to glean in either field of Ruth or Esther. In the end, the labourer directed the gleaner to the forty-second field, and he gathered handfuls (Luke xi. 9-13), and then he told others where to go to find plenty of food.

MARY WILLERTON
(Aged 11 years).

_Corby, Grantham._

[This is the most correct answer received up to the time of going to press.--ED.]

BE GENTLE.

There is a plant that in its cell
All trembling seems to stand,
And bends its stalk and folds its leaves
From each approaching hand.

And thus there is a conscious nerve
Within the human breast,
That from the rash and careless hand
Shrinks and retires distressed.

The pressure rude, the touch severe,
Will raise within the mind
A nameless thrill, a secret tear,
A torture undefined.

Oh, you whose nature is so formed
Each thought refined to know,
Repress the word, the glance, that wakes
That trembling nerve to woe!

And be it still your joy to raise
The trembler from the shade;
To bind the broken, and to heal
The wound you never made.

Whene'er you see the feeling mind,
Oh, let this care begin!
And though the cell be e'er so low,
Respect the guest within.--L. H.

A BIBLICAL DISCOVERY.

Bible students will gladly read the account of a remarkable and interesting discovery sent to the Council of the Egypt Exploration Fund by their explorer, Mr. Flinders Petrie. He has apparently found the remains of a royal palace, mentioned in the Bible as "Tahpanhes," and referred to by the Father of History in his record of the adventures of the first Greek colonists who, six hundred years before the Christian era, settled in a corner of the northeastern Delta of Egypt.

These early Greeks conveyed to their countrymen the wisdom of the Egyptians; and the science, art, and literature of the older civilization was filtered through the artistic Greek intellect to the western world.

Students of Egyptian and Greek history will take deep interest in this discovery. But the finding of the remains of this royal palace appeals to a more numerous and humbler class of students.

In the book of Jeremiah the Prophet, from chapter thirty-seven to chapter forty-seven, the reader will find a graphic record of the events that preceded, accompanied, and followed the destruction of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. A great portion of the action of this story took place in the country in which Mr. Petrie and his Arab labourers have been at work for some time past.

After the tumults that followed the departure from Jerusalem of Nebuchadnezzar with the captive Jews to Babylon, it was decided by Johanan, against the advice and the prophecy of Jeremiah, to fly into Egypt, the land of King Zedekiah's old ally. The princesses, and the captains, and Jeremiah, were taken across the frontier by Johanan, and hospitably received by Pharaoh Hophra, who installed his guests in the royal residence in Tahpanhes. Jeremiah could not rest even in the stronghold thus provided for himself and his countrymen by the kindness of Hophra, and in the court-yard or square of the royal palace of Tahpanhes he made a remarkable prophecy. Taking great stones in his hands, and burying them in the pavement, the Prophet declared that in that very spot King Nebuchadnezzar would spread his pavilion when he came, with his destroying army, to punish the Jews, and to execute vengeance on their Egyptian allies.

The prophecy, there is every reason to believe, was fulfilled. The Babylonish conqueror invaded Egypt, and burnt Pharaoh's house at Tahpanhes. Centuries have passed. The sand of the desert, and the mud of old Nile, have swept over the site of the remarkable prophecy, and about 2,500 years after the death of the Prophet, an Englishman rolls away the encrustations of time. He discovers the basement floor of the old citadel--half prison and half palace. From the ruins he extracts slabs of fine limestone covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions, figures of captives delicately sculptured and painted, iron and bronze tools. In the kitchen he finds pokers, and spits, and broken bottles. The room of the little scullery maid is found almost intact. It contains a recess with a sink and a bench for the ancient pots and pans.

Mr. Petrie's communication, which can be had from the Secretary of the Egypt Exploration Fund, throws a strong light on the wondrous story in the grand old Book which has been for centuries a household treasure in English homes, and will be read with delight by all lovers of the Bible.

EVERY season of life has its appropriate duties.

THROUGH all our troubles, the tangled skein is in the hands of One who sees the end from the beginning. He shall yet unravel all.

THE CHARCOAL BURNER'S STAR.

(_Concluded from page 9._)

Alfred was struck mute with surprise. Even the guide seemed astonished at this unexpected welcome to the hut.

It was not until a minute or two after the voices had ceased that they ventured to approach the entrance. When they did, they saw the charcoal burner standing at the end of a rude table, formed of one broad deal plank, supported by four legs, along one side of which were ranged three boys between twelve and fourteen years old. Books and paper, with an inkstand and pens, were lying on the table. It was a forest school.

The intruders again paused at a sight as unexpected as had been the melody they had just heard. But their footsteps had caught the ears of those within the hut.

"Who goes there?" asked the man, in a calm voice.

"Friends," replied both Alfred and the guide, and the latter added--

"Good evening, Gervais. It is only your friend Michel. I have brought you a gentleman who is very anxious to see you."

"What is your pleasure with me, sir?" asked the charcoal burner, taking off his woollen cap.

"First, to wish you a good evening, Monsieur Gervais; and next, to apologize for my visit."

"Is there anything you wish to say in private?"

"Nothing very important; but----"

"These boys are in your way?"

"Oh, pray do not let me interrupt you! My business here is not of sufficient consequence."

"We have done, sir. Indeed, our evening studies, and more particularly our Scripture readings, have been prolonged rather beyond our usual hour. We have only one more duty to fulfil, which we never omit. You will excuse it, sir."

Without waiting for a reply, Gervais assumed a serious air. The boys knelt down before the wooden bench on which they had been sitting. Alfred, and even the guide, followed their example, and the woodman offered up a brief, but solemn evening prayer; after which he pressed affectionately the hands of the young herdsmen, and dismissed them with a kind remembrance to their employers.

"Good-night, Monsieur Gervais!" said the boys cheerfully, and in an instant they were all leaping up the heights beyond the fir trees, which soon hid them from the sight of those who remained behind.

"I expected to find you alone, Monsieur Gervais," said Alfred, "and I wished to put a question to you which is now very plainly answered by the scene I have just witnessed. Two hours ago, I was with a party of friends in the plain below, at some distance from this mountain. At nightfall, when we saw the light of your furnace beginning to shine, we said among ourselves, as we looked, with no small degree of interest, upon this earthly star, as it seemed to us, 'What can the man be doing who is watching by the side of this fire?' You see, sir, that I am young, and you know that, at my age, good-humoured frolics are not uncommon. 'I will soon know,' I said. Well, I mounted my horse immediately, and rode at full speed to the foot of the mountain. And now that I am here, I find that I have reason to rejoice in my freak, Monsieur Gervais, since it has made me the witness of a most interesting scene. These pens and paper, and these books--this one in particular--afford sufficient evidence of the manner in which you have passed the evening. Here, to my surprise, I have found, at this late hour, in the deep recesses of the woods, on a wild and lofty mountain, a school for useful learning in general, but more especially, as the closing of the scene has informed me, for the most important of all knowledge--that of the Creator who made, of the Son who redeemed, and of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies us. You pass your evenings in pointing out to these boys, who might otherwise be running wild along the mountains and through the forests, like the beasts that perish, the only way that leads to everlasting life. May I ask if you have any particular interest in them? Are they your children, or are they employed by you in your business?"

"No, sir," said the charcoal burner; "I am neither their father nor their master. Alas! they have but one Father, which is in heaven. They are orphans, sir, and are employed by the herdsmen. They remain here for several months in the year, to assist in tending their cattle and their goats, which are kept during the summer in the mountain pastures. They are therefore serving an apprenticeship to the line of life for which they are destined. But there are other things which are needful for them, as well as learning to look after cows, and sheep, and goats; and one thing more needful than all the rest, which they might learn to neglect, were they left to themselves, without some one to lead them in the right path, and to speak to them of the faith and love of the Lord Jesus. It is true they are here far removed from the temptations which they would meet with in towns, and even in villages; but Satan has his snares in all parts--in the wilderness, where he dared to tempt the Son of God Himself, as well as in the city, where, they say, his traps are set so thickly that it is impossible to avoid them, unless the light of God's Holy Spirit is shining on our path. But even here, had he no other means of leading them astray, they might fall, by his devices, into the worst of sins--the forgetfulness of God, and all they owe to Him. The condition, then, of these poor boys has interested me very greatly. I have prevailed upon their masters to let them come to me for two hours every evening, as soon as the cows and goats are milked, and the sheep are in the folds, when I endeavour, with God's help, to teach them to read and write, and cast up an account; but, above all, to seek to find out the Lord in His holy Word, and to pray to Him. For myself, too, it is a profitable as well as a cheerful occupation in this solitude. I wish, indeed, that I were able to have them longer with me each day, but that our labours will not allow of. On Sundays, indeed, they have rather less to do, and we take advantage of this to devote more time to the service of God."

"_Rather_ less to do on Sundays!" said Alfred. "Is the Lord's Day, then, made only partially a day of rest?"

"Sir," replied Gervais, "there are works of _absolute necessity_ which require our attention, here in the mountains, nearly as much on the Lord's Day as on the other days of the week. We do not cut wood on the Sabbath Day, but my fire must not be allowed to go out. It must be kept constantly burning till the operation is complete. So far, indeed, it affords a lesson of holy instruction to my young pupils as well as myself, and shows us the necessity of the flame of Christian love, and faith, and hope being kept alive in our hearts, even when pursuing our daily occupations. Then those who have the charge of cattle and sheep must attend to their wants, or the poor creatures would suffer sadly by their neglect. It takes up a large portion of the day to milk the cows and the goats, and I dare say you can understand that, to say nothing of the loss their owners would incur were this omitted, the poor beasts themselves would suffer bitterly from bodily pain and disease."

"I ought to have thought of this, as I am myself learning to be a farmer," observed Alfred. "But do you not draw any spiritual improvement for your scholars from this?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I show them how Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is constantly feeding and caring for _His_ flock, watching over them, and keeping the young lambs from going astray; carrying them in His bosom, and giving them the bread of life to eat, and the waters of everlasting comfort to drink."

"And are your kind instructions confined to these three boys?"

"Not altogether, sir. Most of their masters, when their necessary work is done, come with such of their servants as can be spared, on the evening of the Lord's Day; and, as we have no pastor up here to teach us in the way of holiness, we join together in prayer. We sing 'psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs,' and we 'search the Scriptures,' and nourish our souls with the holy Word of God. Most of them, I assure you, sir, are very seriously disposed, and love to hear me talk to them of the Lord Jesus, and tell them of all He has done to save sinners, to take away their sin, to give them repentance, and everlasting life after death."

"And it is thus you have been passing your time," exclaimed Alfred, "when some of my thoughtless young friends below fancied you might be drinking or smoking while you were watching your fire. Happy man! These solitudes are no solitudes to you. How far more profitably, how far more pleasantly, are you employed than the greater number of those who live in the world! I must entreat you to pardon my having intruded upon you, I am ashamed to say, from a motive of mere curiosity. But see how God often causes even our follies and weaknesses to turn out to our profit. I have learned a lesson that I trust, by His grace, I shall never forget. It has taught me that every godly man has a part assigned to him for others as well as for himself, to show forth the great salvation that Christ brought upon earth. You are diligently fulfilling your part. You have prayed for work, and our great Master has mercifully provided it for you. You are laying up treasure for yourself in heaven, while many of those who would be inclined to pity your worldly position are wasting their lives in idleness and sin, neglecting the work they might do, and burying in the earth the talent committed to their charge. Numbers there are in the world who are attempting to secure to themselves a memorial among posterity, by erecting hospitals and schools, while you are consecrating this little hovel to God in a way that might never have been known in this world, but which will not be forgotten by the Lord 'in the day when He maketh up His jewels.'"

As he said this, Alfred cast his eyes round the hut, and fixed them upon an open chest which stood in one corner, supported upon one or two short beams of wood, to preserve the contents from the damp.

"You are not unprovided with books, I see, besides those that lie on the table."

"We have indeed a little library there, sir," replied Gervais. "It is very small, but quite equal to our wants. You would find there 'The Histories of the Old and New Testaments,' 'The Imitation of Jesus Christ,' 'The History of France,' 'Robinson Crusoe,' and a few others. Would you like to look at the writing of these boys, sir?"

Alfred examined some copy-books lying on the table, and could not help expressing his surprise at the progress the lads appeared to have made in three short months. Then, looking at his watch, he said--

"I fear I have overstayed my time, but before I go I have yet a duty to perform. While I congratulate you most sincerely on the success with which God seems to have blessed your endeavours in behalf of these destitute youths, I must add that the interest which the idea of your isolated situation excited among the party I left in the plain below was such that they said I ought not, without some good reason, to intrude upon you, and desired me to bring this little offering to you, begging of you to accept it, in token of their good-will."

Vainly, however, did the young man press the offering upon the charcoal burner. He absolutely refused it.

"Money!" said he; "for what? From whom does it come? Excuse me, sir, but you must recollect that you are quite a stranger to me. I do not even know your name."

Alfred looked greatly disappointed, but replied that his name was Alfred de Blenal.

"What! the son of Madame de Blenal, of ----?"

"The same."

"You are no longer a stranger, sir. Your excellent mother's piety and benevolence are well known to all the country around. Well, sir, as you seem distressed by my refusal, I will accept your liberal offer, but not for myself. I will only take it as trustee for these three boys, to be applied to their future maintenance, till they are able to support themselves."

"Excellent man!" replied Alfred, deeply affected. "This sum will hardly be sufficient for your benevolent purpose, and it will give us pleasure to make it up to such an amount as may be required. I have promised to return to the persons who are expecting me by midnight, and I fear they will be uneasy at my prolonged absence. Take it, then, Monsieur Gervais, and whenever you require a little more money for the good works you may find occasion to perform in your neighbourhood, do not fail to put me under contribution. I shall tell my friends all I have seen and heard, and be assured that they will envy me my good fortune. Farewell, and remember that, by applying to me when you want anything, either for yourself or others, you will only prove that I have inspired you with sentiments of esteem and friendship."

Saying this, Alfred gave the charcoal burner a cordial embrace, and departed.

The thoughts of Michel, the guide, as he descended the mountain, were very different from those with which he had gone up. He was an altered man from that night.

Midnight had passed. The supper was waiting at Madame de Blenal's. The guests were beginning to be impatient, some from hunger, some from curiosity, but more from anxiety. Had he miscalculated the distance? Had he mistaken the way? Had he met with an accident? The former conjectures were spoken aloud; the latter was only whispered by some who were not within Madame de Blenal's hearing. She herself remained silent, but perfectly calm. We do not say that the mother's heart was free from anxiety, but there was a remedy within it which served as a preventive against all idle and unnecessary fears. The eye of God was upon her son, and she knew that his own trust was fixed upon His saving arm. She knew, too, that, although full of the spirit and buoyancy of youth, he would avoid the sin of running into needless danger. If an accident had detained him, it was permitted as a trial of her faith, and she was prepared to submit.

The impatience of the party was just beginning to reach its height, when the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard. Every eye was turned to the door, which was soon opened, and Alfred stood before them, smiling, cheerful, and uninjured, though in a condition that at first occasioned some alarm, but soon excited a burst of laughter.

"Here is ocular proof," cried one, "that he has seen the charcoal burner."

"And been at close quarters with him," said another. "He is covered with soot."

"Why, Mr. Alfred," said a young lady, "one would think you had embraced him!"

"I have, mademoiselle, and I am not ashamed of owning it. Had you seen what I have, you would have done the same, without considering your dress."

"Why, what have you seen?" was asked by more than one.

"I have found a preacher of righteousness, 'a teacher of babes,' in the forest--one who is an example to us all--and I have learned that, whatever our station in life may be, we may do good service to our Lord."