"There's Mr. Hartley crossing the lawn, nurse. I'll go and ask him if I may take Miss Flossy for a walk. I daresay you won't be sorry to get rid of her for an hour or two." "Well, Master Hamilton, I know she'll be so happy to have a walk with you, that I can't say a word. And she is always good with you, sir." Mr. Hartley smiled as he gave Jack the required consent, and said, "That's right, Hamilton; you'll be none the worse for giving up an hour or two to that little But are you sure you can keep out of mischief? What do you think, nurse; can we trust Miss Flossy with him?" woman. "Oh, yes, sir; he's the safest young gentleman in the world. He'll be as good to her as if he was her mother, and he's as steady as steady can be with her." Flossy was dancing with pleasure, and ran off into the house to get Miss Amy, and a basket for all the flowers they were to bring back. It was a bright, happy afternoon. Jack often remembered it in the years when he was a man; remembered how Flossy had darted from flower to flower with eager pleasure, how she had filled her little hands with the cowslips and May-blossoms, and had clambered through hedges and ditches with his help; remembered how he had carried her through the fields when she got tired, and how her arms had clung round his neck, and how she had patted his cheeks, telling him he was a "dear old Jack, and she and Miss Amy were, oh! so very happy." THE PENITENT BOY-THIEF. ON a heap of chips and shavings, in a garret under the slates, a Christian at work in London found a boy about ten years of age, pale, but with a sweet face. "What are you doing here?" he asked of the boy. "Hush, hush! I am hiding." "Hiding? what for?" And he showed his white arms covered with bruises and swollen. "Who was it beat you like that?" "Father got drunk and beat me because I wouldn't steal." "Did you ever steal?" "Yes, sir; I was a thief once." "Because I went to the ragged school, and they told me 'Thou shalt not steal,' and they told me of God in heaven. I will never steal, sir, if my father kills me." The visitor said, "I don't know what to do with you. Here is a shilling; I will see what I can do for you." The boy looked at it a moment, and then said, "But, please, sir, wouldn't you like to hear my little hymn?" The visitor thought it strange, that without food, without fire, bruised and beaten as he lay, he could sing a hymn, but he said, "Yes, I will hear you." And then the boy sang:— "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, no answer; opened it and went in. The shilling lay on the floor. There lay the boy with a smile on his face-but he was dead! In the night he had gone home. Blessed be Jesus that he has said, "Suffer little children to come unto me." He is no respecter of persons. He sends to the homes of the poor and the destitute to take his blood-bought little ones to his own bosom. WHAT WILL JESUS SAY? Two young girls were walking leisurely home from school, one pleasant day in early autumn, when one thus addressed the other: Edith Willis, what will the girls say when they hear you have invited Maggie Kelly to your party?" Edith was silent for a moment, and then raising her soft blue eyes to those of her companion, she replied: "Ella, when mamma told me to invite Maggie, I asked her the same question. She told me that it made no difference what the girls said who thought Maggie quite beneath them, because she was poor and her school-bills were paid by my papa; and she asked me if I should like to hear what Jesus would say. So she took her Bible and read to me these words: And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' Ah, little readers, never ask what this or that one will say, when you are doing what is right; but what Jesus, your King, will say at the glorious resurrection morning that will soon dawn upon us. THE DEVIL'S CONTRIVANCES. THE devil first puts the clock back, and tells you it is too soon; and when this does not serve his turn he puts it on, and says, "The hour is past, the day of grace is over; mercy's gate is bolted, you can never enter it."-C. H. Spurgeon. NO SAFETY. THIS I do know, that there is no safety, no not for another night, for any soul that is not hiding in the Saviour.—R. M. M‘Cheyne. A SABBATH-DAY IN PARIS. To the Readers of "The Children's Record.' MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-Just now I am many hundreds of miles away from you. A few minutes ago I said to myself that perhaps the little readers of the Record would like to read a letter from me, if I were to write one to them. I remember, when I was a little boy, how I loved to read the Record, and the letters from foreign lands. Well, this Monday morning, and for the very first time in my life, I am in a foreign country, and the name of it is France. I am in Paris. Yesterday was the first Sabbath ever I spent in France, and I am sure you will be as sorry as I was, when you read about the way the French people spend the Sabbath. When I awakened on the Sabbath morning, the first thing I heard was the sound of a joiner's hammer. He had been working for some days before, and was busy yesterday the same as any other day. I thought it very strange, you may be sure; but in a short time my ears caught the rumble of carts, and waggons, and lorries-quite as many going about as usual. Going down stairs, I heard some person playing on a piano. It was merry music, for dancing to. When at breakfast I noticed the people going past in their usual dress to and from their work; and girls and boys, and men and women, with baskets of vegetables, fruit, toys, fish, &c., went past crying their wares as loudly as they are doing just now while I am writing to you. Old clothesmen and umbrella-men, basket-makers and hat-repairers, were all with their peculiar Paris twang screaming out for work to do. Breakfast over, I sallied forth to the street. All the shops were open, and I went to the end to see if the next street was like this one. It was just the same. Cabs and omnibuses were driving about. Waggon followed waggon, too,-some of them driven by sun-burnt, gaily-dressed maidens from the country, and drawn by clumsy-footed farm horses, with bells upon their harness -to the public market, a few yards farther along. The public-houses-cafés they call them-were all open, and were well attended. This was all new to me, and it was a strange scene, I thought, for a Sabbath morning. You will think that when church time came the people would stop working and go to church. You will see what they did by-and-by. Leaving there, I walked slowly along, noticing the gay, careless look the people almost all had. Except about half-a-dozen sober-looking old women with prayer-book in hand, I could not see any going to church. They appeared rather as if going to work, to promenade in the public parks and gardens, or to the country for pleasure. On my way I passed some houses that had been knocked down during the rebellion, and the masons and labourers were busy working away at them. Near them you could buy newspapers at a stand on the pavement; and not far off was a man, dressed like all the other Parisian workmen, in a blue blouse, busy watering the streets with a hose-pipe that ran on wheels. I wanted to see the Parisians in their own churches on a Sabbath, and by this time I was in sight of one of the finest in the whole city, La Madeleine, as they call it. Into this church, which cost over £500,000 to build, and which is like the Royal Exchange in Glasgow, I went. The choir was busy singing a Latin psalm, and the organ was playing. A priest was standing before the altar, kneeling every now and again. A small congregation, chiefly women, were in the area; and, shortly after I entered, a priest came down the centre swishing on the people "holy water" with a long brush. I came in for a better share than I wanted, although I was along with the hundreds who were walking about the interior between the congregation and the walls of the church. Every now and again an official went through the congregation and collected money from them. The service was in Latin, a language that very few knew anything about. The people appeared easily satisfied with attendance; they would come in, kneel down, mutter a few words, and then walk away, but never forgetting to touch the wet brush as they went past it, and make the sign of the cross on their foreheads with the wet finger. You Scottish Sabbath-school children, who know the right, will pity those poor French Papists, and be glad that your lot was cast in a better land. (To be continued.) it "6 SUDDENLY Something tugged at my line, and swept off with it into deep water. Jerking up, I saw a fine fish wriggling in the sun. Uncle!" I cried, looking back in uncontrollable excitement, "I've got a fish!" "Not yet," said my uncle. As he spoke there was a splash in the water; I caught the arrowy gleam of a fish shooting into the middle of the stream; my hook hung empty from the line. I had lost my prize! Overcome by my great and bitter disappointment, I sat down on the bank, and for a time refused to be comforted, even by my uncle's assurance that there were more fish in the brook. He refitted my bait, and putting the rod again in my hands, told me to try once more. done; nor then either, for it speaks for itself." How often since I have been reminded of the fish that I didn't catch! When I hear people boasting of a work yet undone, and trying to anticipate the credit which belongs only to actual accomplishment, I call to mind that scene by the brook-side; and the wise caution of my uncle in that particular instance takes the form of a proverb of universal application: "NEVER BRAG OF YOUR FISH BEFORE YOU CATCH HIM."- Whittier. A SAINT, NOT AN ANGEL. A SHORT time ago, a little girl, in the Isle of Wight, about nine years of age, was dying, when her mother said to her, "You'll soon be an angel." The little one looked up, and said, "No, I'll be a saint!" She said this because she had been told by a lady that the saints were nearer the throne than the angels, and because she was a happy little saint, looking to Jesus, and expecting to be near him in heaven. THE GOLDEN RULE. To do to others as I would I know I should not steal nor use And this plain rule forbids me quite When they are kind to me. FAULTS. THERE may be great faults in reference to small things.-Archbishop Whately. MAKE HASTE! AN awakened soul is not a saved soul. You are not saved till God shut you into Christ. It is not enough to flee-you must flee into Christ. Oh! do not lie down and slumber!-R. M. M'Cheyne. SATURDAY NIGHT. A TEXT FOR OUR TEACHER. February 1872. Fib. 3. He giveth wisdom unto the wise.... He revealeth the deep and secret things.Dan. ii. 21, 22. 10. I ceased not to warn every 17. I know thy works, and MISSIONARY NOTES. "Thy Kingdom Come." Worshipping his Tools. THE Hindu carpenter does not like to begin his work in the morning until he has put all his tools together, and then bowed down to them and worshipped them. He brings some of his food, and offers it to his hammer, his chisel, his plane, and his chopper. He argues, that because God is everywhere, he is in everything, and, consequently, everything must be a part of God. For this reason he foolishly worships his very tools, praying to them! and so he adores an inanimate thing instead of the all-seeing God, who can read his thoughts and answer prayer, if offered in the name of Jesus. A Church at Nazareth. THE Mission Church at Nazareth has been completed. This beautiful building will be a great help to the evangelistic work of the Rev. John Zeller. Nazareth has now a population of some 7000 souls, among whom nominal Christians largely predominate, onefifth only being Mohammedans. The plain of Jezreel to the south and east is inhabited by Moslems, who are more ignorant than those in the larger towns, but less fanatical. Here, too, come periodically the wandering Bedouins of the Hauran (the ancient Decapolis), and the Druses on the southern slopes of Lebanon are within easy reach. Thus from the lowly spot where our Saviour was pleased to pass the greater part of his earthly life, his gospel can now be widely preached, to the Moslems, wandering Bedouins, the Druses, and the nominal Christians of the corrupt churches of the East.Missionary News. Progress in Madagascar. IN Madagascar the government works are stopped on the Lord's day, and the places of Christian worship are crowded to excess. There are 90 churches, and upwards of 5000 members, and about 20,000 nominal Christians. Within the last five years, the people have erected, at their own cost, nearly 100 chapels, and they henceforth bear, to a great extent, the expenses of spreading the gospel. |