Chapter C: Wardle (1)

PRAYER ANSWERED.

A TRUE INCIDENT.

On the summit of Washington mountain, overlooking the Housatonic Valley, stood a hut, the home of John Barry, a poor charcoal-burner, whose family consisted of his wife and himself. His occupation brought him in but few dollars, and when cold weather came, he had managed to get together only a small provision for the winter.

This fall, after a summer of hard work, he fell sick, and was unable to keep his fires going, so, when the snow of December, 1874, fell, and the drifts had shut off communication with the village at the foot of the mountain, John and his wife were in great straits. Their entire stock of food consisted of only a few pounds of salt pork and a bushel of potatoes. Sugar, flour, coffee, and tea had, early in December, given out, and the chances for replenishing the larder were slim indeed.

The snowstorms came again, and the drifts deepened. All the roads, even in the valley, were impassable, and no one thought of trying to open the mountain highways, which even in summer were only occasionally travelled, and none gave the old man and his wife a thought.

December 15th came, and with it the heaviest fall of snow experienced in Berkshire County in many years. The food of the old couple on the mountain was now reduced to a day's supply, but John did not yet despair. He was a Christian and a God-fearing man, and His promises were remembered; and so, when evening came, and the north-east gale was blowing and the fierce snowstorm was raging, John and his wife were praying and asking for help.

In Sheffield village, ten miles away, lived Deacon Brown, a well-to-do farmer of fifty years old, who was noted for his consistent and godly deportment, both as a man and a Christian. The deacon and his wife had gone to bed early, and, in spite of the storm raging without, were sleeping soundly, when, with a start, the deacon awoke, and said to his wife, "Who spoke? Who's there?"

"Why," said the wife, "no one is here but you and me. What is the matter with you?"

"I heard a voice," said the deacon, "saying, 'Send food to John.'"

"Nonsense!" replied Mrs. Brown. "You've been dreaming."

The deacon laid his head on his pillow, and was asleep in a minute. Soon he started up again, and, waking his wife, exclaimed--"There, I heard that voice again--'Send food to John.'"

"Well, well," said Mrs. Brown. "Deacon, you are not well; your supper has not agreed with you. Lie down and try to sleep."

Again the deacon closed his eyes, and again came the voice--"Send food to John." This time the deacon was thoroughly awake. "Wife," said he, "who do we know named John who needs food?"

"No one I remember," replied Mrs. Brown, "unless it be John Barry, the old charcoal-burner on the mountain."

"That's it!" exclaimed the deacon. "Now I remember, when I was at the store in Sheffield the other day, Clark, the merchant, speaking of John Barry, said, 'I wonder if the old man is alive, for it is six weeks since I saw him, and he has not yet laid in his winter stock of groceries.' It must be old John is sick, and wanting food." So saying, the good deacon arose and proceeded to dress himself.

"Come, wife," said he, "wake our boy Willie, and tell him to feed the horses and get ready to go with me; and do you pack up in the two largest baskets you have, a good stock of food, and get us an early breakfast, for I am going up to the mountain to carry the food I know John Barry needs."

Mrs. Brown, accustomed to the sudden impulses of her good husband, and believing him to be always in the right, cheerfully complied, and after a hot breakfast, Deacon Brown and his son Willie, a boy of nineteen, hitched up the horses to the double sleigh, and then, with a month's supply of food, and a "Good-bye, mother," started at five o'clock on that cold December morning for a journey that almost any other than Deacon Brown and his son would not have dared to undertake.

The north-east storm was still raging, and the snow falling and drifting fast; but on, on went the stout, well-fed team on its errand of mercy, while the occupants of the sleigh, wrapped up in blankets and extra buffalo robes, urged the horses through the drifts and in the face of the storm. That ten miles' ride, which required in the summer hardly an hour or two, was not finished until the deacon's watch showed that five hours had passed.

At last they drew up in front of the hut where the poor trusting Christian man and woman were on their knees praying for help to Him who is always the Hearer and Answerer of prayer; and as the deacon reached the door, he heard the voice of supplication, and then he knew that the voice which awakened him from sleep was sent from heaven.

He knocked at the door. It was opened; and we can imagine the joy of the old couple when the generous supply of food was carried in, and the thanksgivings that were uttered by the starving tenants of that mountain hut.

"Call upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will answer thee."--_Lantern._

NEVER think that you can make yourself great by making another less.

ANSWER TO BIBLE ENIGMA.

(_Page 91._)

"_Create in me a clean heart, O God; renew a right spirit within me._"--PSALM li. 10.

C heba R . Ezekiel i. i. R om E . Acts xviii. 2. E glo N . Judges iii. 15. A x E . Judges ix. 48. T o W . Isaiah i. 31. E liad A . 2 Chronicles xvii. 17. I bha R . 2 Samuel v. 15. N aphtal I . Genesis xxx. 8. M ago G . 1 Chronicles i. 5. E leale H . Numbers xxxii. 37. A rara T . Genesis viii. 4. C epha S . John i. 42. L am P . Exodus xxvii. 20. E nged I . 1 Samuel xxiii. 29. A roe R . Numbers xxxii. 34. N aphtal I . 1 Kings vii. 14. H arves T . Genesis viii. 22. E ni W . Proverbs xx. 1. A bisha I . 1 Chronicles xviii. 12. R es T . Hebrews iv. 9. T abera H . Deuteronomy ix. 22. O mr I . 1 Kings xvi. 25. G ibeo N[9] . 1 Chronicles viii. 29. O bed-edo M . 2 Samuel vi. 11. D ov E . Genesis viii. 9.

THOMAS TYLER
(Aged 14 years).

_Potton_, _Beds_.

[9] "Gideon" was given by mistake, in the Enigma, instead of "Gibeon."

WISDOM.

(PROVERBS iii. 13-15.)

True wisdom doth my soul admire,
And would before fine gold prefer;
For all the things I could desire
Are not to be compared with her.

While earthly things fill earthly minds,
Attracted to their native clod,
Happy the man who wisdom finds,
And holds her in the fear of God!

THE CLEVER BOY AND THE ELECTRICAL MACHINE.

An electrical machine was in the window of a scientific instrument maker's shop, and a youth stood looking at it with eager eyes. He was observing every part with intense curiosity. At length, after a long, absorbing gaze, a neighbouring clock struck. He started like one awakened from a sleep, and ran with all speed to his master's workshop.

The boy was the son of a working man--a smith, and was intended also for a working man, but not quite so laborious a trade. Perhaps the boy was not strong enough for his father's manly trade, so he was apprenticed to a bookbinder in Blandford Street, Marylebone. He was a very diligent lad, fond of work in hours of business, and fond of a book in hours of leisure. His master noticed this, and gave him leave to stay in the workshop during the dinner-hour.

Whilst his fellow-workers were drinking and smoking, the orphan boy was storing his mind with useful knowledge. In particular he loved books on scientific subjects. He liked to read about the wonders of chemistry; still more about electricity--that wonderful power that flashes out of the thunder-cloud, that dwells unseen in the dew-drop, that, at a touch, thrills through the startled nerves, and, like an invisible but mighty spirit, pervades all things, from the clouds of heaven to the clods of earth.

One day he found out the shop window with the electrical machine, and at every spare moment he haunted that window, taking the shape and measure of every knob, and wire, and wheel, and plate, with earnest eyes. Then he resolved to try and make one for himself; so by the light of the early summer mornings, he was up and working away at his machine.

In time he completed it, and found it would act. He touched the knob, and the shock that went through him was as nothing compared with the joy that throbbed through his heart at seeing his work complete.

He showed it to his master, who, being a kind and sensible man, was pleased and surprised at the ingenuity of the lad. The master was fond of showing the electrical apparatus of his industrious apprentice to every person likely to be interested in a clever youth. Amongst them were some Fellows of the Royal Society, who might, perhaps, have an admission ticket to give.

Some few years after, the lad, now a young man, was again gazing with wide open eyes, and laying up all he saw in his mind. This time it was not through a shop window that he looked. It was from a seat in the Royal Society's lecture-room that he witnessed Sir Humphrey Davey making some beautiful chemical experiments.

The youth did not know which most to admire--the beautiful apparatus, the wonderful experiments, or the eloquent lecture. All was so new to him--so interesting. But the lecturer himself was, above all the rest, the object of his admiration. Our youth, having been a reader, knew that Sir Humphrey Davey was not born of rich parents, though his kindred and his breeding were virtuous and respectable. In the remote town of Penzance, in Cornwall, from the most western extremity in England, the great man had come. He had taught himself nearly all he knew; and now the youth saw him standing before the mighty and the noble of the land, the light of genius in his flashing eyes, the words of wisdom on his eloquent lips. "Oh, if I could but follow the steps of such a master!" was the involuntary wish of the youthful hearer.

This thought soon produced action. Promptness was a leading part of the young man's character, so he resolved to write to the great chemist, and state that he wished to follow some other trade than that to which he had been apprenticed; that he loved science, and would think himself happy to be employed in any way in the laboratory of so great a man. It was a bold step, but the request, though urgent, was full of the noble humility of real worth. His letter was not neglected. Inquiries were made. The good master had no wish to prevent the youth entering on a career for which his talents and studious habits fitted him. The electrical apparatus was another aid to him, so the wish of his heart was granted. He entered the laboratory of the great man, and had ample opportunity to study and to improve. There is no need to say he did not waste his time or neglect his opportunities.

Sir Humphrey Davey died, leaving a name dear to the philanthropist, as well as the man of science; but his place was not long vacant. Who filled it? He whose youth we have feebly sketched; he whose lectures at the Royal Institution were listened to by the Prince Consort and the Prince of Wales--the celebrated and much-beloved Professor Faraday.

"Seest thou the man that is diligent in business? he shall stand before kings."

Professor Faraday was not only one of the greatest scientific authorities that ever lived, but he was a companion of humble-minded Christians. His weekdays he devoted to science, but on the Sunday he might be heard telling the story of redeeming love to delighted listeners.

CHRIST'S time was largely taken up in making people happy. We do well to remember that, and to do our best in ministering to the happiness of all around us.

OUR BIBLE CLASS.

GOD'S INDEPENDENCE OF ALL, AND HIS DECLARED NEED OF SOME OF HIS CREATURES.

(PSALM l. 12, AND MATTHEW xxi. 1-3.)

That God is independent the Bible everywhere declares. All beings beside Himself are His creatures, and He is Lord of all. He needs nothing, for He possesses all things.

No _supplies_, for, though He ordained sacrifices and planned His temple, heaven is His throne, and earth His footstool, and His own hand gives life, power, and sustenance to all (Acts xvii. 25).

No _tribute_. The free-will offerings of David and his people, for the building of the temple, were a sweet sacrifice to God; but David truly described matters when he said, "Of _Thine own_, O Lord, have we given unto Thee" (1 Chron. xxix. 14).

He needs _no information_ or _guidance_ (see Isa. xl. 13-15). "Who hath directed the Spirit of the Lord? or being His counsellor, hath taught Him?" The question is not asked of angels, but of men; and "all nations before Him are as a drop of a bucket"--the little drips that fall from it as it is drawn up from the well--while "He taketh up the islands as a very little thing"--a light thing, lifted easily with the fingers.

No creatures can give their Creator a single new thought, or any help of any kind (Rom. xi. 34-36). "For who hath _known_ the mind of the Lord?" Who then could have been His counsellor? Or who hath first given to Him? This can never be, "for _of_ Him, and _through_ Him, and _to_ Him are all things, to whom be glory for ever. Amen."

Therefore He needs give no _explanations_ to any of His creatures. "Who can say unto Him, What doest Thou?" (Dan. iv. 35.) Thus God is above all, and independent of all.

Yet Jesus "needed" the ass and colt (Matt. xxi.). We read of "coming to the help of the Lord against the mighty" (Judges v. 23); and Paul spoke about "working together with God" in teaching His people.

The Bible is full of these contrasts. God is so high, and yet so condescending; full of majesty, yet "plenteous in mercy to all who call upon Him."

There is no contradiction in the contrast; but God's needs are never necessities. Our needs arise out of our _nature_. We need food, clothing, and comforts, friendship and sympathy; but all God's needs come from His _will_ and His _love_.

How beautifully this appears in the life of Jesus! He came to earth as a little Infant, needing a mother's care. He grew up in humble circumstances, and when He went forth, at thirty years of age, to preach the Gospel, "the Son of Man had not where to lay His head." He also needed the many ministries of love His devoted followers rendered to Him. And when He died, others must provide the grave-clothes and the tomb, for He had none of His own.

"Though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor, that we through His poverty might be rich."

"For our sakes!" This is the keynote to all the needs of the Almighty.

The Father of the Lord Jesus Christ chose His people in His Son before the foundation of the world, and the father of a family needs his children because they are his own, and he loves them.

The shepherd needs his sheep to be safe, and will not willingly lose them. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, who bought His sheep with His own life and blood, and must needs gather and keep them every one.

The physician needs patients whose healing shall proclaim his knowledge and skill, and the Great Physician of sin-sick hearts will glorify Himself by bringing perfect health and cure to all who are led to Him by the Holy Spirit.

Do we feel our need of Him? Have we discovered that we are fallen, lost, guilty, and diseased? Then _He needs us_, and has shown us our need, that He may relieve, supply, and bless us with His great salvation.

In the same way He needs His people's services for _their own_ sakes.

By fighting the Lord's battles of old, His servants were interested in His cause. By working with Him now, in preaching, teaching, warning, and comforting others, Christ's followers still are honoured and blessed.

When Saul of Tarsus, breathing out slaughter and bitterness against the sheep of Christ, was hastening like a wolf to Damascus, Jesus stopped Him, made him a new creature, and caused him to utter that cry of anguish, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" Like the jailer's question, "What must I do to be saved?" it came from a convinced and burdened heart.

Saul suddenly discovered that his life had been one terrible mistake--that Jesus of Nazareth was the Lord of heaven--and tremblingly he wondered, "Could there be pardon for such a rebel as he now felt himself to be?"

Could not the same almighty voice have spoken peace to that troubled conscience? Certainly; but Jesus required Ananias to be His messenger to the humbled Pharisee; and, after three days of suspense and blindness, while his tears had been his only food, Ananias arrived with the message of peace.

How tenderly it was given! He put his hands on him, and said, "Brother Saul, the Lord, even Jesus, who appeared to thee by the way as thou camest, hath sent me unto thee," and comfort, sight, and joy followed, while the believing penitent was baptized in the name of his Lord.

How gracious and wise was all this! How closely it drew Ananias and Saul together as brethren--children of the same heavenly family. Paul always lovingly remembered his first Christian friend (Acts xxii. 12, 13), and we are sure that Ananias never forgot that memorable day.

And in the same way Christ still needs the loving services of His people to one another; and those who are taught and helped, love their Christian helpers, while the helpers feel a double love towards those to whom they have been made useful.

Thus the great and glorious independent and almighty King condescends to make use of feeble worms. And which should we most admire, His majesty, or His tenderness? We cannot tell. He is all-wise and all-powerful, and--

"With heaven and earth at His command,
He waits to answer prayer."

Therefore, "blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness," for the time is coming when "they shall hunger no more, neither thirst, for the Lamb in the midst of the throne" shall fill them with all good, and there will be no more "need" on either side. Jesus shall see His people fully saved, and "shall be satisfied"; and they, "beholding His face in righteousness, shall be gratefully satisfied, when they awake, with His likeness" (Psa. xvii. 15).

May this joy unspeakable be ours.

Our next subject will be, _The Good Shepherd Gathering His Sheep_ (John x. 16).

Yours affectionately,
H. S. L.

BIBLE SUBJECTS FOR EACH SUNDAY IN MAY.

May 6. Commit to memory Rom. viii. 31.

May 13. Commit to memory Rom. viii. 32.

May 20. Commit to memory Rom. viii. 33.

May 27. Commit to memory Rom. viii. 34.

PRIZE ESSAY.

HOW TO BE USEFUL IN THE WORLD.

There are five heads under which this subject may be placed--Love, Truthfulness, Obedience, Cheerfulness, Peacemakers.

_Love._ If true love is inspired in our hearts, our chief aim will consist in trying to be a help to others, which is very useful and needful, even in our own homes. The power of love is of such value, that those who know it esteem it as a precious gem set in gold, for without it, our life would be a path of misery and woe--two of the most terrible burdens in the world. Love is the true spring of usefulness.

_Truthfulness_ is always needful. He who is tempted to tell a lie should consider that he may be struck dead while doing so; and then, where will his soul awake? Truth _will_ out, if it be a long while hidden. It will stand like the mountain against the roaring sea--nothing can move it; for with it, is a clear conscience in the sight of God. If truth were spoken more freely and carefully, we should be far happier. Its preciousness cannot be sufficiently prized.

_Obedience_ is often the root of cheerfulness. An obedient child has this motto in view--"Thou, God, seest me." Obedience is useful in preserving us from many dangers, which our elders can often foresee, and which might prove the ruin of our immortal souls if we were to be disobedient. Thus it brings happiness into the homes and hearts of children and parents, and so produces cheerfulness.

_Cheerfulness_ is sure to arise, in due course, from godliness. If we have trials, we should not give way to despair, and make those about us unhappy; but we should try to attend to our work, and look at the brighter side of our troubles, and encourage those whom we often find in greater difficulties than ourselves; at the same time, not forgetting to take our crosses to God. We may cheer many a saddened heart by cheerful words, and sometimes entice the young revenger to forget and forgive.

_Peacemakers_ are thus spoken of--"Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of God" (Matt. v. 9). Christ teaches us this in His sermon on the mount; and He also set us the example. A little child may be a peacemaker, if it is only to say a word of love, and so stem the rising tempest. In time, it may develop itself more fully, and we may thus honour our holy Master by treading in His footsteps, and proving a help to all who know it, in speaking His truth boldly and sincerely.

For an example of usefulness, we must consider the precious Jesus, and pray for grace to imitate Him in all His ways; then we shall not willingly do wrong, for He is superlatively good.

MARGARET CREASEY
(Aged 14 years).

_Sydney House, Sleaford._

[Our young friend tells us her age will not admit of her writing the Essays in future, but we hope she will not forget us, and we pray that the Lord may give her grace to live a useful and honourable life as a disciple of Jesus.

We have received several creditable Essays this month, those from E. B. Knocker, Jane Bell, Lilly Rush, Florrie Rush, and W. E. Cray deserving special mention as giving signs of approaching success.]

[The writer of the above Essay receives a copy of "Notable Workers in Humble Life."

The subject for July will be, "The Difference between 'Uncertain Riches' and 'The True Riches'" (see Tim. vi. 17; Prov. xxiii. 5; Luke xvi. 11; Prov. viii. 18, &c.); and the prize to be given for the best Essay on that subject, a copy of "The Story of the Spanish Armada." 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 June.]

We insert the following to show what even very young children can accomplish by trying, and with a desire to encourage our young friend and others to _try again_:--

HOW TO BE USEFUL IN THE WORLD.

Little children can be useful in many ways. First, learn to be useful at home. Lay the meals, and do the dusting; go on errands, and be kind to brothers and sisters. Always speak the truth, and obey your parents; and if you are sent out on an errand, or with a message, and any other little children try to persuade you to go with them, mind and obey your parents. Be gentle in your manner and duties, and be careful with little children, if you have to see to them, and with your brothers and sisters, and in all your duties. We should be very careful to do what we are told to do, and also very careful not to do what we are told not to do. Be kind, not selfish; dutiful to parents; and do little things willingly; try and persevere at school; be strictly honest, whatever occupation you may be in; always be just, and if you do this, people will feel they can trust you; but if you do not, people will say they cannot trust you. Set an example not to be cruel to anything or any body, but to be kind to all, and love and obey your parents.

MERCY PHILLIPS
(Aged 7 years, 10 months).

_Lindfield, Hayward's Heath._

Interesting Items.

OVER 10,000,000 eggs now arrive in New York city weekly. One recent Canada train had thirty-one cars, with 200,000 eggs in each. The chief supply to the New York market comes from Canada and Michigan.

UNITED STATES' FLOUR EXPORTS.--The United States now manufacture yearly 70,000,000 barrels of flour, and of this one-seventh part is exported. The great bulk of this flour is sent from eight Atlantic ports to Europe.

AMONG the "fowls of the air" are three, the eagle, swan, and raven, which live to the age of one hundred years or more. The paroquet and heron attain the goodly age of sixty years. The sparrow-hawk, duck, and pelican may live to be forty, while the peacock and linnet reach the quarter century, and the canary twenty-four years.

A SAGACIOUS DOG.--Just recently a dog, of the black and tan terrier species, entered the Bolton Infirmary unobserved, and forced itself upon the attention of the house-surgeon, who found one of the animal's legs broken. With the aid of nurses he set the limb, the dog meanwhile licking the surgeon's hand. It refused to leave the institution, and was installed as an in-patient. How the dog got into the infirmary is unknown.

WE understand that the hall which, for the last nearly sixty years, has been appropriated in Glasgow to caricaturing religion, and where mockery of the Sabbath, recitations, comic songs, dancing, and all sorts of diabolical devices to entrap weak souls, were revelled in, where many Sabbaths Mrs. Besant and Mr. Bradlaugh gave vent to their mockery and blasphemy of God, is henceforth to be used for the worship of the Almighty.

ORIGIN OF THE WORD "NEWS."--The word "news" is not, as many may imagine, derived from the adjective "new." In former years (between 1595 and 1730) it was a prevalent practice to put over the periodical publications of the day the initial letters of the cardinal points of the compass, thus--N E W S, implying that those papers contained intelligence from the four quarters of the globe, and from this practice is derived the term of "newspaper."

A TELEGRAM states that the body of Alexander the Great has been found among the sarcophagi lately unearthed at Saida, in Syria. It is stated that the body can be positively identified by its inscription, and other particulars. Alexander is known to have died at Babylon, and on his death-bed he is stated to have told his sons to convey his body to Alexandria, the city he had founded at the mouth of the Nile. Although the monarch did not live thirty-three years, or reign thirteen, he did more than all before or since his time.

AMONGST the most curious of recorded wills is that of a Mr. Thomas Tuke, of Wath, near Rotherham, who, dying in 1810, bequeathed a penny to every child that should be present at his funeral. Another provision of the will ordered a shilling to be given to every poor woman in Wath, whilst to his own daughter he only bequeathed the pittance of four guineas per annum. An old woman had for eleven years attended him. To her he bequeathed the munificent sum of one guinea only, for, as he expressed it, "tucking him up in bed." A further whimsy of the selfish humourist was a bequest of forty dozen penny buns to be thrown from the church tower at noon on Christmas Day for ever.

ONE day, a gentleman's attention was attracted by an unusual commotion in his stable, where two carriage horses were kept. Looking in, he saw that one of the animals had got out of its loose box, and was helping itself to a bucket of mash which the coachman had left at the door. The other horse was neighing loudly, evidently demanding a share in the feast. What was the gentleman's surprise to see the first horse fill its mouth with the mash, and then push its nose through the bars of the loose box, for its imprisoned companion to take the relish from its mouth. This was repeated several times. The horse which was thus fed had often been seen to push over some of his hay into his companion's rack, when that was emptied first.

A SUBMERGED FOREST.--During the late violent storms in the Channel, the sea washed through a high and hard sand-bank near St. Malo, nearly four metres thick, laying bare a portion of an ancient forest which was already passing into the condition of coal. This forest at the beginning of our era covered an extensive tract of the coast; but with the sinking of the land it became submerged and covered up by the drifting sand. Mont Saint Michel once stood in the middle of it. The forest had quite disappeared by the middle of the tenth century. Occasionally, at very low tides after storms, remains of it are disclosed, just as at present. It is believed that, some centuries ago, the highest tides rose about twelve metres above the level of the lowest ebb. Now the high-water level is 15.5 metres above the lowest.

PREACHING at Kensington the other week, Cardinal Manning said that there are labouring in London no less than 350 Roman Catholic priests and 1,000 nuns.

A SNAKE THAT UNDERSTOOD ENGLISH.--It is related that some Americans recently going through the Jardin des Plantes of Paris, stopped to look at a big rattlesnake in a cage. It lay motionless, apparently asleep, but when two of the party who lingered behind began to speak in English, it moved, lifted its head, and gave every sign of interest. They told their companions that the snake understood English. The whole party then returned to the cage. The snake was apparently asleep again. They conversed in French, but the snake made no movement. Then the ladies began to speak in English. The snake started, lifted its head, and showed the same alertness as before at the sounds. The rattlesnake proved, on inquiry, to have come from Virginia.

THE SOUTH AFRICAN GOLD FIELDS.--The _Natal Mercury_ says:--"The gold exports for January, 1888, from Natal were L31,447, and from the Cape L26,115, making a total of L57,562. This is a capital opening for the first month of the year, and if continued in the same ratio, will mean the handsome total for the year of L690,744. Glowing reports continue to come in from the Waterfall, at the Kantoor. A number of buildings are going up. Last week a seven-ounce nugget was brought into Barberton. Two Portuguese are said to be making, on an average, four ounces per day, say L100 per week, and their ground is described as a regular 'bank.' Of course they and a few others are exceptionally lucky ones; but all are said to be making a good living."

ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN NEW YORK.--The following "open letter" has been addressed to the Mayor of New York:--"69, Wall Street, New York, March 19th, 1888.--My dear Sir,--While coming from Washington yesterday on the limited express, my eye caught the telegram printed in a Washington paper announcing your order forbidding the display of the Irish flag from the City Hall on St. Patrick's Day. I could not repress an audible and emphatic 'Amen,' quite to the surprise of the ladies and gentlemen in the car. For many years I, in company with thousands of Americans and adopted citizens from England, France, and Germany, have been outraged and scandalized by this annual insult to our intelligence, our pride of country, our religious belief. In the minds of many others besides the writer, that banner represents in a large degree the worst elements in our body politic--ignorance, vice, bigotry, and crime. It is displayed on the 17th of March in nearly every rum shop, gambling hell, and thieves' den in New York. It was borne in the ranks of the murderous mob that held possession of the city in the July riots of '63. But, aside from this, no legal or other right exists for the display of that flag or any other, except the ones you indicate, from the City Hall of the great metropolis of a land whose people are by a large majority consistent Protestants, on a day set apart to honour the memory of a fabulous Roman Catholic saint. Furthermore, this is literally a rum-sellers' and a rum-drinkers' procession. The wholesale rum-seller rides on horseback, the retail rum-seller rides in a carriage, the drinkers walk, until many of them, overcome by rum, fall in the gutter, are gathered up by the police, cared for in the station houses and the penitentiary, cleaned, and clothed, and fed at the expense of the long-suffering taxpayer. I respect the honest, right-living Irishman or woman, Catholic or Protestant, and would not deny them a single right to which I, a native-born American citizen, am entitled; but I enter my indignant protest against the steadily increasing attacks upon our most valued institutions by this largely foreign-born and most turbulent portion of our population. It is high time to call a halt and compel obedience to decency and law. You will certainly receive the heartfelt thanks and unanimous support of every lover of our city, our country, our institutions, our laws.--I am, my dear sir, very respectfully yours, GEORGE SHEPARD PAGE. To his Honour A. S. Hewitt, Mayor of the City of New York." [We say, All due honour to the noble Mayor of New York, for such a common-sense decision.--ED.]

KEEPING WARM.--It may not be generally known that, when exposed to severe cold, a feeling of warmth is readily created by repeatedly filling the lungs to their utmost extent in the following manner. Throw the shoulders well back, and hold the head well up. Inflate the lungs slowly, the air entering entirely through the nose. When the lungs are completely filled, hold the breath for ten seconds or longer, and then expire it quickly through the mouth. After repeating this exercise while one is chilly, a feeling of warmth will be felt over the entire body, and even in the feet and hands. It is important to practise this exercise many times each day, and especially when in the open air. If the habit ever becomes universal, then consumption and many other diseases will rarely, if ever, be heard of. Not only while practising the breathing exercise must the clothing be loose over the chest, but beginners will do well to remember, in having their clothing fitted, to allow for the permanent expansion of one, two, and even three inches, which will eventually follow.

LOST AND FOUND.

A TRUE STORY FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

Little Janet Bruce lived in a pretty village in Scotland. Near to her home was a large wood. If you were to go into it without a guide, you might go on for miles before you could find your way out of it. In some places no path is to be seen, and tall trees and creeping plants cast a deep shadow over the ground.

Janet was the only child of a poor widow. Her father had come to the village from a distant part of the country in search of work; but he had not been there long before he fell ill and died. It was a sad loss to Janet and her mother, but God, who looks in pity on the widow and fatherless, raised up for them many kind friends.

It was one evening, late in the autumn, that Janet sat at the door of her mother's cottage. She had been told never to go far away from the house, lest she should be lost. But on this evening, as she looked over the fields, she saw some bright blue flowers near a bush; and as she was very fond of making little nosegays of wild blossoms, she thought she should like to pluck them. When these were gathered, there was still further away a hedge with shining buds. "Oh," said she, "I should like to have them to put with my blue flowers." In a moment she sprang towards them, when a little bird was startled from its nest in the hedge. "What a pretty creature!" she cried. "How I should like to see where it will fly to!" And so she ran towards it, but the bird could fly much faster than she could run. Soon it flew into the wood, and Janet followed after it.

Thus we see how one wrong step leads to another. Dear children, beware of the first temptation to acts of disobedience.

It was a cool evening, and the wind blew among the trees. A little rain had begun to fall, and there were signs of a stormy night. Where had little Janet wandered to? and where could she find a shelter should there be a storm?

The sun now sank behind the hills, and night came on. Then it was dark--quite dark; and her young heart beat quickly as the wind moaned among the trees. She now felt that she had lost her way, and then sat down to weep. She thought what a naughty child she had been in not obeying her mother.

At last she cried herself to sleep. As soon as the daylight came again, she awoke, and felt very hungry. But there was no nice breakfast ready for her, and no loving mother to kiss her. She was alone in that great wood.

Janet thought that it was no use for her to sit still, so she rose up, and walked on, but not so fast as before, for her feet were cold, her legs were stiff from lying on the damp ground, and she was weak from want of food. Yet the more she went forward, the further she was from home, for she was going quite another way from that path which led to her mother's cottage.

After a time she came to a place where she saw some dark-looking people seated on the outside of a little tent or camp. These were gipsies. At first she was afraid; but what was a little girl to do in that wide wood? So, thinking that they might be kind to her, she went to them, and told how she was lost.

They told Janet to sit down by their fire, and then they gave her some food out of a large iron kettle that hung from three upright sticks. The poor girl stopped with them all that day, and at night she cried, and asked them to take her home to her dear mother. But the gipsies looked at one another, and then spoke in a whisper, so that she might not hear what they said.

At last, the men and women took off Janet's nice frock, and put on her an old ragged dress. They also rubbed her face, neck, and hands with a dark juice, and then they told her that she must go with them, and she should be in the place of one of their own little girls who had died.

The tent was now packed up, and put into a little cart, and all went forward into a part of the country Janet had never seen before.

Now, poor child, all days were alike to her. She did not know Sunday from any other day. She had no Sabbath School to go to, nor any good books to read. Instead of the sweet hymns she used to hear sung, she now only heard the vain and foolish songs of the gipsies. The Bible, which her mother used to read to her every night and morning, was a Book unknown to these wild people.

In what state of mind was Janet's mother all this time? The people of the village, when they first heard of her loss, went in search of the child. They took with them lanterns, and torches, and tin horns, to sound as a signal, should they find the lost one. Onward they went; some along the fields, and others into the wood; but hour after hour passed away, and the little girl was not found.

Oh, what grief filled the widow's heart! "My child has fallen into the river, and is drowned," she cried; "or has strayed into the woods, and will be starved to death."

When all the people had come back with the sad tidings that no trace of Janet could be found, she wept aloud.

Nearly twelve months passed away, but Janet was not happy with the gipsies. "Take me to my mother," she often said with tears. "Oh, do let me go home again!" They tried to please her with their wandering ways of life, but she could find no pleasure in them. She used to sit on the side of the road wherever they went, and look on every passer-by, to see if she could find any one she knew. But no, all faces were strange. She did not know that she was many miles away from her mother's cottage.

As time went on, the gipsies saw that Janet became very pale and ill. She was so weak that they thought she would die. They then told her that, in a few weeks, they would go back to the woods where they first met with her, and that she should again see her mother. How did Janet count the days and hours till the time came; and when they once more reached the woods, she clapped her hands for joy.

It was again the autumn of the year, and the reapers were at work in the fields. They were very busy, for they were afraid that a storm was coming on. It was just such a cloudy evening as that when Janet was lost. They had cut down all the corn at the lower part of one of the fields, and had just reached a corner which lay against the entrance to the wood, when who should they see but a little gipsy girl. She ran as well as she could, for she was very feeble, towards them, crying, "I am Janet! My name is Janet Bruce. Oh, carry me home to my mother!"

The reapers stopped in their work, and one of them caught the girl up in his arms, and looking for a moment in her face, shouted out, "Yes, it is she! It is Janet herself!" There could be no mistake, for though she had grown taller, and her dress was ragged, and her face was brown, they knew her again in a moment.

The work of the day was soon over, and a seat of boughs of trees was quickly made, into which they put Janet; then two of the strongest men raised her upon their shoulders, and carried her towards her own dear home. Some went before--men, boys, and women--and some followed after; and as they went they sang aloud for joy.

The glad tidings soon reached Janet's cottage, and the mother rushed forward to meet her child. But we cannot tell you what were the feelings of the poor widow as she clasped Janet once more in her arms. The gipsy dress was taken off, and better clothes put on, and like the father in the parable, the widow said, "This my child was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found."

And so it is when a sinner is brought by the Holy Spirit to return to God. With shame and sorrow he says, "Father, I have sinned." But God, who is rich in mercy, is ready to forgive. He will, for Christ's sake, hear prayer. Through His precious blood He will pardon sin. He will take off the ragged garments of sin, and put on the white robe of Jesus' righteousness, and receive coming sinners as His children. Then what sounds of joy are heard in heaven, when those who were lost are brought home to dwell for ever in their Father's house!

Dear child, through the fall you are _lost_. Have you been truly brought as a penitent to Christ? If so, you are _found_.

Do not forget this--all the while any one knows not what it is to come to Christ for mercy and pardon, he is lost. But the moment a sinner is truly brought to the cross of Christ for salvation, he is found. Are you among the lost or among the found?

THE DEAR OLD TIMES.

It is interesting to look over household and personal accounts of, say, a hundred and fifty years ago. Some of these, which deal with the expenses of Mr. Gervase Scrope, and of his son Thomas, both of Cockerington, Lincolnshire, lie before me; and from them I find that "my dark-coloured cloth suit, trimmed with silver buttons and loops, was made November 21st, 1730, and cost in all L17 17s. 6d."

This included two pairs of breeches. The cloth for the suit cost 18s. a yard; but Mr. Scrope had a cloak in 1732, the cloth of which cost L1 2s. a yard. In 1729, however, he procured a cheap knockabout suit of clothes for L9 0s. 6d.

Economy seems to have been necessary, for in 1731, "Tommy had a pair of breeches made out of an old scarlet riding-coat of mine."

Boots and wigs were both dear; so also were hats. The squire's window-tax in 1748 amounted to L2 17s.

Only in the matter of certain articles of food were the old days cheaper than the new. In 1754, eight lbs. of veal cost 2s. 4d., or 31/2d. per lb.; a tongue cost 1s. 10d.; 31 lbs. of round and rump of beef cost 12s., or about 41/2d. per lb.; a leg and saddle of mutton cost 4s. 7d.; a quarter of lamb cost 1s. 6d.; 22 lbs. of pork were bought for 5s. 6d.; and rabbits ranged from 6d. to 1s. a couple, according to size. But coffee was 6s. a lb., and lump sugar was 10d. Soap at this time cost 7s. 6d. a stone.

Bread was sometimes cheap, but whenever war broke out, the price always went up to a terrible height, and much misery and distress must have resulted.

In 1886, the average price of wheat in England was 39s. 4d. per imperial quarter; in 1810 it was 106s. 5d.; and in 1801 it was 119s. 6d.; or more than three times as much as it was two years ago. Those were indeed dear old times.--_Cassell's Saturday Journal._

POINTS TO BE AIMED AT.

P unctual be throughout the day;
O bedient to superiors;
I ndustrious in every way;
N ot haughty to inferiors:
T ruthful in word, and trim in dress;
S hun folly, and for wisdom press.

J. B.

ALL who now colour for show will hereafter be shown in their true colours.

WHAT A PRIEST THOUGHT OF ROMAN CATHOLIC MIRACLES.

"_After the working of Satan with all power, and signs, and lying wonders._"--2 THESSALONIANS ii. 9.

In the autumn of 1836, the Marine hospital of Quebec, in Canada, was filled with patients suffering from ship typhoid fever, and so deadly was the disease that, by the following spring, a number of the officials and servants of the institution had also been smitten, and died. Chiniquy had hitherto been spared, although in constant attendance on the patients, but in May, 1837, he was attacked with the fearful disease. His life was despaired of, and the last Sacraments were administered to him. He could not speak. His tongue became like a piece of wood, and all that could be given him was a little cold water, dropped with much difficulty through his teeth.

On the thirteenth night of his illness, he heard the doctors whisper, "He is dead, or nearly so," and they left the room. A deep horror seized him. An icy wave seemed to creep over his whole frame, and a terrible vision rose before his mind. A pair of scales stood before him. His sins were in one scale; his good works and penances in the other; and all his righteousness seemed but a grain of sand compared with a mountain load of guilt, and to God he dared not cry for mercy. But he thought of two saints--St. Anne, who was believed to have cured hundreds of cripples, and St. Philomene, who was just then the favourite saint of Rome. To these he cried, with all the earnestness of his failing soul, and soon a bright vision came before him of an aged, grave lady, and a young and beautiful one, the latter distinctly saying to him, "You will be cured." The vision then disappeared, but the fever had gone also. The crisis was over. He was hungry, and asked for food, which was at once given him, and he ravenously ate the dainties prepared, while the friendly priests gathered round him joyfully, and sang a hymn of praise.

Of course they believed that the saints had cured him, and the Roman Catholic doctors shared their idea; but a Protestant physician denied it altogether, and in a kind manner he tried to prove that no miracle had been wrought, but that returning health came from natural causes, by the will and blessing of God.

Chiniquy was unwilling, however, to change his mind on the subject, and, true to the vow he made in the hour of fear, he got a splendid picture painted, at a cost of L50, representing his vision as he lay seemingly on the bed of death.

Three months later, he was in the house of the curate of St. Anne, a cousin of his, and he showed him the picture he intended to exhibit in the church next day. But, to his surprise and grief, his older relative, instead of sharing his belief, laughed heartily at his folly, asking him how he, as a man of sense, could possibly believe in such a miracle. Chiniquy reminded him of all the crutches hanging in St. Anne's Church, belonging to the cripples she had cured, which remark gave rise to another burst of laughter on the curate's part. But, sobering down, he seriously declared that, having carefully watched these so-called cures, he had found that ninety-nine out of every hundred were impostures, the hundredth one being an honest belief, but a superstitious and fancied one.

These pretended cripples were nearly always lazy beggars, who knew that their seeming lameness would get them pity and money, and, when tired of that game, they would make a begging tour, telling all their helpers that they were going to the church of St. Anne, to pray for the use of their legs.

They at last arrive there, pay from one to five dollars to have a mass said for them, and then, in the midst of the ceremony, just as they receive the wafer, there is a cry of joy. They are cured, and they leave their crutches behind as witnesses of their cure. They then return, and tell all who will listen as they go along, receiving fresh gifts from them until they get home again, to take a farm and settle down with their dishonest gains.

"Such," said the curate, "is the true history of the ninety-nine miracles. In the hundredth case the man is really cured, because he was really afflicted; but his nerves were wrought upon just as I was once cured of a dreadful toothache by seeing the dentist put his instrument on the table. I took my hat and left, and the dentist laughed heartily every time he met me afterwards.

"One of the weakest points of our religion is the ridiculous miracles said to be wrought by the relics and bones of saints. For the most part, they are the bones of chickens or sheep; and were I a Pope, I would throw all these Pagan mummeries to the bottom of the sea, and would present to the eyes of sinners nothing but 'Christ and Him crucified' as the Object of their faith, just as the Apostles of Jesus do in their Epistles!"

They talked together in this strain till two o'clock in the morning, and then Chiniquy was too puzzled and sad to sleep.