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another, a king by the grace of God!' Oh, repay our sovereign for this, his goodness to us, and bless him in soul and body, in time and eternity, thou King of kings. Amen."



The scene of our mother's most prolonged activity was the beforementioned village of Thalheim, lying in a narrow valley of a district commonly called the “ Baar," part of the mountainous Black Forest. Its inhabitants are distinguished by peculiarities both of costume and character. Their strong and handsome physical development is united to the free simple manners and marked individualities of race only observable among Highlanders. The power of custom exercises a singular force over the minds and actions of these primitive folks. It may indeed be described as the strongest moral or spiritual influence in the whole region. In their eyes, it seems a great enormity to inake light of their traditional notions of propriety, and the mighty law of “custom” is incongruously dragged forward upon all occasions, often even to pronounce upon matters of the most serious nature. Once, in remonstrating with a naughty maid, my mother asked her, how, in following her evil courses, could she ever expect to get to heaven? “Why not, I should like to know ?” cried the girl in surprise. “Upon what do you found your hopes ?” said my mother. "Oh, Frau Pfarrer !" rejoined the damsel with much assurance, “it is the custom with us for people to go to heaven! You see, heaven was made for us—not for the animals.”

The dialect of the Baar is harsh and odd, somewhat resembling the Swiss patois, but possessing a quaint force and drollery of its own. The costume of the place is still more singular, and might seem almost to date back to primeval ages. A woman's head-gear consists of two caps, one black and tight fitting, drawn down in front to meet the eyebrows, the other of fur, which is worn the whole year round. Two long plaits of hair hang down the back, reaching far towards the ground. À black jacket, drawn back in front, exposes a lace vest surmounted by white. Round the waist is passed a thick, sausage-shaped roll, from under which emerges the skirt, starched stifily into innumerable tiny folds. Broad, flat shoes, and red woollen hose complete this strange attire, which altogether weighs twenty pounds, and costs from £3 to £4. The wedding costume, or hippé, as it is called, generally lasts a woman her lifetime. A very curious effect is produced in the village church, by the sight of the whole female population, down to the smallest girl, dressed in this way and ranged in long rows. Without this traditional costume, however, none of them would set foot in church.

On one occasion, my mother went round the whole village, vainly trying to hunt up such a dress for poor unthrifty woman, who had confessed to her with shame and contrition, that she dared not show herself for want of a “hippé.” In every house she was met by the contemptuous reply, “ If she were not a lazy wench, she would have her dress all right enough.”

At length, in the cottage of a charcoal burner, the quest proved successful, for his wife, though very poor, immediately discovered that she possessed an extra “ hippé,” which she freely offered. Deeply touched by this generous kindness, and in the name of him who said, "I was naked, and ye clothed me,” our mother accepted the gift. She also formed a very hearty friendship with this charcoal burner's wife, who was a most interesting woman, and possessed mental capacity and refinement of a high order, together with a frank affectionate disposition. Her active sympathy and love were often found a source of real comfort to us.

It was on the new-year's eve of 1820, that as our mother sat reviewing her past life, it occurred to her that the store of her father's sermons, hitherto read alone, might be made the means of wide-spread blessing, if a few of the neighbours could be assembled to listen to them in the parlour of her above-mentioned friend. The plan was promptly adopted, and henceforth a company of peasant women met regularly, and listened with much enjoyment. The spiritual life of her friend especially seemed to receive a marked impulse, so that our mother exclaimed in delight, “ One actually sees her grow!” The good woman, on her part, seemed to become more glad-hearted every day, as she sat mending the garments of her large family during the reading, and often declared, “ It is only since the mother'* came among us that I have found out what I really am and possess; the more I get to know God's word, the more I hunger and thirst after it.” Her cordial affection to our mother increased in the meantime, and if ever she noticed the parsonage lights burning late at night, she would come running over and say, "I dont know how it is, madame, but I cannot sleep when I know that you are up and busy.” And then, actively taking part in any business that was on hand, she remained till all was finished. Some years later, this faithful woman died in my mother's arms, and often, in speaking of her, she would declare that in the resurrection of the just, the charcoal bnrner's wife would be distinguished and honoured as the model of a Christian neighbour.

On leaving home, the ancient Greek colonists were always supplied with holy fire from their country's hearth, in order to keep up the glow of patriotism in their hearts, and show their connection with their native land. Surely we ought in the same way to supply our childrenthose colonists whom we send out in the far country of the futurewith a holy flame of truth and light, such as is furnished for us in the word of God. This was an idea which forced itself very strongly upon our mother's mind, and caused her to adopt a plan originated by our grandmother. This was, to assemble the village children, and by the aid of a large coloured picture book, to relate Scripture stories to them in a lively and impressive manner. Every Sunday afternoon she started out, the book under her arm, and going from house to house, gathered round her everywhere a crowd of eager listeners. When she quitted one cottage, the children, intent on hearing more of her attractive stories, ran along by her side into the next. It was a curious sight, this wandering Sunday-school, such as has rarely been seen ; the

* Throughout the whole village Madame Paulus was always called “the mother."

shepherd in the midst of the flock, the crook being replaced by the famous picture book-her sign of office; and as she passed up the street, her narrative was often continued for the benefit of apt scholars. This method of teaching embraced one grand advantage, inasmuch as each visit gave opportunity of bearing the truth to the grown-up as well as the younger members of every family, and many a good seed was thus cast by the wayside, and we can see here how ingenious in its resonrces is the constraining love of Christ, the love that seeks and saves. But our mother's most practical and efficient labour was one unseen by others, for it was accomplished when all around her were at rest. By the time night had set in, and her daily household toil was ended, her great night work began. For then she entered into communion with a higher world, and like Jacob, wrestled with God in prayer, for special blessings upon her family and friends, our parish, and all her other interests. This was done with so much constancy and regularity, that at least two nights in each week were thus spent. When, in later days, we begged that she would allow herself more rest, she always said, “I will rest in eternity; now, I have no tine. I hare to pray so much for the king and prince, the ministers and counsellors, the consistory, universities, seminaries, and schools, besides my own family, that I seem never to have finished.”

Her cabinet of business for this spiritual work was a little corner beside the stove in her room, and there she spent countless nights, kneeling or stretched upon the floor, yet never growing weary.

CHAPTER VII.—THE BROKEN HOME. It is one thing when a ship is tossing on mid-ocean, and has all sorts of shoals, quicksands, and tempests before it; but it is quite another, when most of the weary way lies bebind, and the shores of the country whither it is bound begin to loom in view. This was the state of things in our house ten years after our mother had begun her task of educating us. Two of the elder ones were already at college, while another was supporting himself by his profession, and contributing part of his earnings to help the younger members.

Our father had at length reconciled himself to the order of things, and delighted in showing off the attainments of his three tall lads among our friendly neighbours. It gratified him for people to notice the very apparent signs of chemical industry on William's "working hands,” as he always called them; and whenever Philip, the theologian, came home, he had to preach, catechise, and visit ; while Fritz, the medical student, tried his hand at writing prescriptions of medicines, which were to cure the various ailments of the sick villagers. Not our father alone, but all the people of the neighbourhood sympathised in our enterprises, and rejoiced at our culture and progress, for everyone knew that the pastor had no private property, and the fact of his sons receiving professional educations was a puzzle to many. Once, a kind professor expressed his surprise to me upon this point. So I told him our secret, which was, that our mother, who managed the whole affair, had the help and support of Some One who bears the wonderful key which fits and opens all the cash-boxes of earth.

But although our poor mother had struggled through many difficulties and sorrows, the worst still awaited' her. The experience of life had greatly altered my father's opinions, and instead of holding his former rationalistic views, he now owned a lively Christian faith. About this time, the presentiment of his approaching removal to a higher life seemed forcibly impressed on his mind, so that one day, calling his daughter to him, he said, “ Beaté, my time for remaining with you is short ; I shall be suddenly struck by the hand of death, and I wish you to promise, that when you see me lying at the last extremity, you will whisper in my ear the name of Jesus, for I want to go through the dark valley carrying that name wiihin my soul.” The child gave her word, little thinking how soon she would be called upon to fulfil it. Very shortly our father sickened, and at once sank into such weakness that all were greatly alarmed, and before his absent children could be summoned, he died. When Beaté whispered the Saviour's name in his ear, during the last moments, his glazed eyes once more lighted up in grateful love, and then closed for ever. A large concourse of friends met to celebrate the funeral, among them many neighbouring clergymen. One of these had dreaded meeting our mother, for he thought that the ruin of all her hopes in this sudden stroke would have crushed her into despair. Throughout the mournful service he watched her closely, but to his surprise she appeared calm and at rest. At the close, he could not refrain from expressing his wonder. "What does it inean ?” he asked ; "all the plans and the joy of your life are swept away, and yet you are composed and cheerful." "Ah, dear friend," she replied, with a beaming face, “I certainly was almost distracted as I started to walk in that sad procession to-day, with my nine orphan children, especially when we stood in church, and I looked upon the coffin with which all my hopes for this life were to be buried. At that moment it was midnight in my soul. I saw no star in heaven, and no path on earth. Then I lifted up my eyes to him, who up to this time had been my only hope and refuge, and begged for one beam of his eternal love to shine into my beclouded heart. Suddenly, it was as if : voice cried in my car, · Be still, and take no care; henceforth God alone will provide for you and your children. It shall be just as it was when he took Moses away, and the children of Israel had scarcely reached the borders of the promised land. He saw fit to bring his people into Canaan without the help of their old leader, so that every one might see it was all his work. So he will now do with you. In listening to these words my heart grew light, and I answered, 'If that is so, I am content, and even the dark path shall be a joyful way to me.' Do you see,” she concluded, " it is this that strengthens me. I know he is faithful and keeps all his promises."

(To be continued.)

Among the Rookeries of Smithfield.


T Six o'clock one summer's evening, with the winds high, and the

drizzling rain cheerlessly descending, two persons, strangers to each other, were sauntering along Clerkenwell Green, and met by previous appointment, opposite the well-known Middlesex Sessions' House, whose principal front, stately and classic, frowns heavily upon the notorious scenes so constantly witnessed in its van. The one man was of middle-height, broad-shouldered, of wiry and well-knit frame, swarthy in complexion, with a dark piercing eye, quick in movement, strong in character,-evidently the kind of man to endure much, do much, persevere in much, with a stout resolute will that might be feared, and with a genial smile that must be winsome. His companion was—bat description here would profit little.

“Mr. Catlin?” enquiringly observed the person whose business it was to enquire, as he held up a green-covered report in the author's line of vision.

“That is my name” replied the writer of the said green book.

“We have met, sir,” he continued, “ in front of a place where we are accustomed to sad sights. You'd think the Devil was indeed active were you to witness some of the scenes that go on here. The prevalence of crime is awful. And then we have to contend against most able adversaries. There (pointing to a truck that lay before him) is my preaching stand on these summer evenings. We have a banner on which is inscribed some suitable text, -I am a great believer in God's simple word-and this attracts people's attention. Just in front of me, against the lamp-post, the Irish Fenians prate sedition ; and over yonder, there will be thousands listening to the blasphemous utterances of some infidel speaker. There, sir !—the place has become a perfect bear-garden," as, indeed, reporters in daily and other papers have repeatedly tried to show the public. Political demonstrations, with banners bright and banners dim (the furbished up remnants of ancient agitations), with brass bands that provide music as vulgar and as showy as the vulgarest democracy could well desire, with mottoes good and mottoes vicious, to which interpretations many and diverse might be given, have their rendezvous here. The veriest riff-raff assemble in the northern part of this greenless Green, with the discontented and irreligious, to prove to all the world how great is human folly in denying the existence of a God whom they cannot tolerate—although, ( wonder of wonders !) he can tolerate them. Here the high-priests of atheism and of “the Everlasting No" set up their altars, and before their teaching, hundreds of empty and bewildered heads bow with slavish adulation. Here, also, other high-priests in language more or less temperate, but with purpose high and practical, advocate the good temperance cause. And, amid all the hubbub caused by this much, and for the most part, indifferent speaking, the earnest and humble teacher of religious beliefs, destined to out-live the formulas of all the other speakers, utters his word of

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