Chapter M: S. P (3)

At other times, she would repeat with sweet feeling her favourite hymns and chapters, amongst which were, Psalms xxiii., xxvii., and ciii.; and hymns, "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds," "There is a fountain filled with blood," and "Father, whate'er of earthly bliss." The last verse of the latter seemed particularly precious to her--

"Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine
My life and death attend;
Thy presence through my journey shine,
And crown my journey's end."

One morning, she wished her books, &c., brought to her, that she might give us each a parting gift, saying, "Keep them in remembrance of me, when I am gone to heaven to be with Jesus."

On Wednesday, November 16th, in the evening, Mr. Oldfield again saw her. She spoke very freely to him, and said, "Won't it be nice to depart and be with Jesus?--much better than remaining here. I think He will soon come and fetch me. He has pardoned all my sins. Yes, He told me so." He read John x. at her wish, and spoke in prayer, which she much enjoyed and spoke of afterwards.

When I was about to leave her, she said, "I want you all to sing, 'How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,'" which we did, she joining with all the strength she had, her face being radiant with joy.

Another morning she awoke, and commenced singing several sweet hymns. Truly she experienced the words of Isaiah, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee."

One Sunday she said, "How I should love to get to chapel! If I ever went again, I should like to be baptized; but I do not think I shall have strength to go any more. No; Jesus is going to take me to Himself. How kind of Him! Don't you think so? I do."

On November 26th, being her eldest sister's birthday, she wished us to get a card for her. One being selected with the words, "The Lord will bless His people with peace," she said, "Yes, that is the peace Mr. Hull spoke of at St. Ives, and God has given me that peace."

In presenting the card, she said to her sister, "Take it from me. It will be the last present I shall give you on your birthday. Before another I shall be in heaven.

"Yes, I shall soon be landed
On yonder shores of bliss;
There, with my powers expanded,
Shall dwell where Jesus is."

During the night she remarked, "How good Jesus is in taking me away so gently! I thought, after all I have done and said, I should suffer much more. My sufferings are nothing to what Christ suffered on the cross."

The next day Mr. Oldfield came, and she wished him to read Psalm ciii.--"Bless the Lord, O my soul"--and the hymn commencing, "My hope is built on nothing less." He commented on the last verse, and spoke of the robe prepared for her, and the glory that awaited her in heaven.

On Monday, November 28th, with deep feeling, she said--

"E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die."

One day, her doctor said he thought her a little better. When she was told, she burst into tears, and said, "Oh, I do not want to get better! Dear Jesus, do come and take me!

"Weary of earth, myself, and sin,
Dear Jesus, set me free!
And to Thy glory take me in,
For there I long to be."

Another time she said, "I think I shall soon reach my journey's end now. Won't it be nice when my last day comes? I did not think I should be taken first, but I do now. I wonder who will be the next? Jesus knows. I should like to have on my tombstone, 'To depart and be with Christ is far better,' and I hope Mr. Oldfield will bury me; but it little matters about my body. I shall be singing in heaven when they are putting my poor body in the grave."

The last time Mr. Oldfield visited her she could say but very little to him, her cough being so incessant. He read Psalms cxv. and cxvi., and remarked, "The heathen have no God to cry to in their affliction, but you have. What a mercy!

"When your poor, lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,
You'll sing His power to save.

"You have had a foretaste of heaven here, haven't you?" She answered, "Yes, I have."

At times her sufferings seemed more than she knew how to bear, and caused her to become impatient; but afterwards she would express much sorrow for it, and beg earnestly of the Lord to forgive her, and enable her to bear all He should see fit to lay upon her, adding, "My sufferings are nothing to what Christ suffered."

On Sunday, December 18th, she said but little during the day, but in the evening she wished the hundredth Psalm to be read, and the hymn, "Oh, bless the Lord, my soul."

Between eleven and twelve o'clock at night she said to her sisters, "I think I shall go to-night. Yes, I feel sure I shall." They asked her if she still felt happy, and if Jesus was precious. She answered, "Yes! yes!

"My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness."

Turning to them, she said, "Good-bye, good-bye. Say 'Good-bye' to all for me. I am going home! home! home! I am going home!"

She then fell asleep, to awake in a happier world, "where the inhabitant shall no more say, I am sick; and where they that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity."

She was interred at Godmanchester on December 26th, 1887, many of the friends and scholars of the Sunday School being present.

Truly, "the memory of the just is blessed."

J. S.

BIBLE SUBJECTS FOR EACH SUNDAY IN APRIL.

April 1. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 1.

April 8. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 2.

April 15. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 21.

April 22. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 22.

April 29. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 23.

A CHINAMAN applied for membership in a San Francisco Baptist Church. In answer to the question, "How he found Jesus?" he is reported to have answered, "I no find Jesus at all; He find me." There is a great deal of theology as well as evidence of religion in his answer.

A FAMOUS DOG.

In 1779, a young dog, who apparently had no master, came, no one knew how, to Caen, France, and met there a regiment of grenadiers starting for Italy. Urged on, apparently by destiny, he followed them. He was, to all appearance, a common street cur, dirty and ugly, but he had such a bright expression and seemed so intelligent that they did not hesitate to take him.

His new companions forced him to act as sentinel, to obey orders, to keep step, to become accustomed to the sound of fire-arms, to obey roll call, and all other duties the soldiers were called upon to perform. He received and ate his rations with them, and lived in every respect as his regiment was commanded to do.

In going to Italy, Moustache crossed St. Bernard, at the cost of unknown hardships, and encamped with the regiment above Alexandria. It was here that he was to accomplish his first great feat of arms. A detachment of Austrians, hidden in the Valley of Balbo, advanced in the night to surprise the grenadiers, and was heard by this vigilant dog as he was making his rounds. The soldiers were awakened by his barking. In a moment every one was on foot, and the enemy dislodged. To reward Moustache, the colonel had his name inscribed on the regimental roll, and ordered that he should have every day the ration of a soldier. He ordered that there should be put on his neck a collar bearing the name of the regiment, and the barber was ordered to wash and comb him every week.

Some time afterwards there was a slight engagement, and Moustache conducted himself very bravely. He here received his first wound--a bayonet thrust in the shoulder. It must be said here that Moustache was never wounded except in front.

About this time he quarrelled with the grenadiers and deserted, because they had left him tied in the garrison. Taking refuge with a company of chasseurs, he saw a disguised Austrian spy enter the French camp. Moustache, forgetting the insult he had received, welcomed the stranger by springing at his throat with much fierceness. This action astonished all at first, but they had time for reflection, and then remembered the sagacity of the faithful dog. The stranger was arrested, searched, and found to be a spy.

Moustache continued the series of his exploits. At the battle of Austerlitz, seeing the colour-bearer surrounded by enemies, he flew to his rescue, defended him as well as he could, and when the soldier fell, pierced with bullets, enveloped in his colours, Moustache, seizing with his teeth that part of the glorious flag which he could get, fairly flew past the enemy, and brought back to his company the blood-stained remnants. It must be said here that a charge of musketry had taken off one of his legs. This saving of the flag brought him merited honour. They took off the collar he wore, and Marshal Lannes ordered that they should put on him a red ribbon, with a copper medal, bearing this inscription on one side--"He lost a leg at the battle of Austerlitz, and saved the colours of his regiment." On the other side it read--"Moustache should be loved and honoured as a brave French dog."

As it was easy to recognise him by his ribbon and medal, they decided that, in whatever regiment he should present himself, he should receive the portion of a soldier.

He took part yet in several battles, and among others that of Essling (1809). He made with the dragoons two campaigns, and the brave dog fought every time he had the opportunity. He always walked in front on the alert, barking when he heard any noise, and could not find out the cause. In the Sierra Morena mountains, he brought back to camp the horse of a dragoon who had been killed. It is said that at several times he showed this same act of intelligence.

He made his last campaign with the artillery, and was killed at the battle of Badajoz, on March 11th, 1811, at the age of twelve years. They buried him on the spot where he fell, with his medal and his ribbon. On the stone which served as his monument they wrote--"Here lies Moustache." These simple words are more eloquent than the most pompous epitaph.

FLESH-EATING PLANTS.

It is said that there are about a hundred kinds of flesh-eating plants all the world over, and of these, three--the sundew, butterwort, and bladderwort--grow in this country.

The member of this species best known to British botanists is the sundew. The leaves of this plant resemble in shape a flat spoon, and the surface of their blades is covered with stout, erect, hair-like objects, each with a roundish head, which is surrounded with a sticky fluid. Flies are the usual prey of the sundew. When one of these insects touches the blade of a leaf of the plant, the sticky points detain it, and the edges of the blade begin bending towards the centre, and continue to so fold themselves until the fly is entirely enveloped by them. After remaining in this position for many hours, or even days, the leaf gradually resumes its original shape, and an examination will show that nothing remains of the fly but the hard parts--as the wings, outer skin, &c. The rest of the insect has been dissolved in the sticky secretions, and absorbed by the plant.

Several of these plants have been placed near one another, and some have been covered by fine gauze, so that no flies could be caught by their leaves. The superiority of the plants that have been left in their natural state has clearly proved that a supply of animal food is not only advantageous, but almost necessary to them. (See Psalm civ. 24.)

"DRAW ME."

"_No man can come to Me except the Father, which hath sent Me, draw
him._"--JOHN vi. 44.

"_Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out._"--JOHN vi. 37.

"_I am the Door._"--JOHN x. 9.

"_Draw me, we will run after Thee._"--SOLOMON'S SONG i. 4.

Oh, draw me, Holy Father,
For in Thy Word I read
That they who go to Jesus
With all their guilt and need,
Are certainly attracted
By Thy almighty power,
To find a happy entrance
Through heaven's Living Door.

The world, which once did furnish
The trifles I desired,
Now gives no satisfaction;
There's something else required:
The devil would allure me
With charms by him designed
To cry, "Peace! peace!" but cannot
Relieve my troubled mind.

I see no place of refuge
To which I may retreat;
No home, or kindly shelter,
To rest my weary feet.
Where shall I go? where _can_ I?
Dear Saviour, hear my plea--
"Draw me, and I'll run gladly;
Yes, draw me unto Thee."

A. B.

A BRAVE RESCUE.

It is only within the last few weeks that particulars have been published in the Swiss papers of a brave rescue effected on Mount St. Bernard on the night of the last Sunday in November.

While a violent snow-storm was in progress, Grand, the manager of the hospice, noticed that his own special dog that was alone with him in his room became very restless, and made signs to him to go out. He took the lantern and fog-horn, and went out on the mountain, the dog leading him. In a very short time he heard a call and groaning, and, helped by the dog, dug out of the snow an Italian, whom he carried on his back into the hospice.

The rescued man stated that his father, two brothers, and another Italian, all journeying home with him over the pass, lay buried in the snow. He had pushed on to obtain help, but had been overpowered by the storm. Grand made ready and went out again. This second search was more tedious, and led him further away, but at last the barking of the dog announced a discovery. It was the Italian stranger who was now saved and carried up to the hospice. A third time Grand and his dog sallied out into the tempest, and after a quarter of an hour's search found the others, near where the second man had been discovered. They were quite buried under the snow, and almost insensible. He took the most feeble on his shoulders, and with difficulty conducted the others to the hospice. It was now past midnight, and his toilsome task had occupied Grand over four hours, in a blinding snow-storm.

A recent telegram from Geneva states that two avalanches have fallen on the above famous hospice of St. Bernard. The church has been almost entirely buried in snow. No loss of life is reported.

THE MUMMY OF SESOSTRIS.

A new Egyptian labyrinth was some time ago discovered at a place named Deyr-el-Baharee by M. Maspero, an orientalist of French nationality, who found in one of the underground galleries, hollowed through a mountain of granite, three sarcophagi of the Mosaic period. They resembled somewhat our modern coffins, except that they were much larger and rather clumsier in shape. But they were beautifully adorned with images of Egyptian gods and sacred animals, painted in colours that were still of admirable freshness, on a dark-brown ground. They bore numerous inscriptions in hieroglyphics and the demotic character, wherefrom the clue was obtained as to their identity.

The sarcophagi, with their contents, were transported down the Nile to Boulag, at the gates of Cairo, and were opened in the presence of the Khedive and several pashas. The coil of thick cloth in which the first mummy lay was ripped open; then a narrow linen band of about eight inches in breadth, that went round and round the body several hundred times from head to foot, was unwound; after that, a second winding sheet of the finest linen was with great care cut open with scissors. At last a head appeared, totally unlike that of any modern human being. The description of it is given by M. Maspero in his report:--

"The head is long and small in proportion to the body. The crown is utterly bald; the hair is scanty about the temples, but grows in thick, lank tufts on the nape. It was white before death, but has been stained light yellow by the sweet essences with which the body was embalmed. The ears were almost round, standing out from the head, and are pierced like those of a woman. The mouth is small, and bordered with thick, fleshy lips, behind which is a row of white teeth that were kept clean with evident care. Whiskers and beard are thin. They were shaved during lifetime, but grew in the last illness, or may-be after death. The low forehead is narrow, and the brow prominent, and covered with white hairs. The eyes are small, and set close to one another; the nose long, thin, aquiline, and slightly flattened at the tip by the pressure of the bandages. The temple is hollow, the cheek-bones are prominent, the jaw is strong, and the chin very underhung. The face of the mummy is certainly not an intelligent one, and almost appears bestial; but it has an unmistakable look of pride, doggedness, and majesty."

As regards the body, it is that of an aged man, who was singularly vigorous and robust, and must have lived to nearly a hundred years of age.

From the inscriptions on the coffin, it appeared that the body it held had reigned over Egypt for sixty-seven years, during which time the country had attained the pinnacle of national greatness. The Hebrews groaned under his oppression, and hundreds of thousands, while employed to build the city of Ramesis, had died under the taskmasters' lash. This mummy was the greatest among the Pharaohs--Sesostris. He was found in a wonderful state of preservation, after having remained in that coffin for thirty-five centuries.

The second mummy proved to be that of Rameses III.

The third mummy became putrid from exposure to air, and was accordingly buried by M. Maspero. It turned out to be that of a queen named Nofritari, of the eighteenth dynasty.

WHEN thy hand hath done a good act, ask thy heart whether it is well done.--_Fuller._

"THIS IS THE WAY; WALK YE IN IT."

(PSALM cxix. 9.)

Wherewith shall the inquiring youth
Attempt to cleanse his way?
This question asked the lips of Truth,
And many since that day.

The answer's ready for the meek,
And easy to be found;
No far-fetched knowledge need you seek
On false, on foreign ground.

Take heed unto your steps, dear friend,
The Bible does declare;
May you unto God's Word attend
With energy and prayer.

"Take heed unto thyself," wrote Paul,
"And to the doctrines, too";
Young Timothy obeyed the call,
And God's salvation knew.

Friend, you may study well the law,
And try to do your best;
Remember, you will have to know
This lesson with the rest.

But if you find yourself at last
A guiltier sinner still,
The Gospel is revealed for such--
"Come, whosoever will."

Yes, there the secret is made known--
The remedy you need--
The precious blood of Christ alone
Can cleanse thought, word, and deed.