With what a thundering noise the train goes past. It's grand, and better than a game of ball." "No, Harry darling, I would rather not," The mother's anxious fears made quick reply. But still the lad's appealing, wistful face With mother's love calmed down a mother's fears. "Well, I suppose I am a coward born, But yet you know he is our only one; I think I'd die if he should come to harm!" “Well, Albert, take him, bring him safely back, He reached the bridge, And bidding Harry safely stand aside, He placed the crank and moved the fastened draw. He dropped the crank, threw off his loosened coat- As meteor flashes on among the stars, Or as the lightning, on the startled eye, One was the thundering train freighted with life, And in a moment through the gaping bridge, Such was one picture;-quicker then than thought The light all taken from her earthly life; Five seconds scarce had passed, but on his soul, God's strength was cast,-he seized the crank again; .66 My place is here, I cannot leave it now, Oh! oh! God help me, save my little lad!" With both arms on the crank and eyes on stream, He strained his muscles,-never was the need Of muscle greater,-swings the draw around. 66 Keep quiet, Harry, let your arms fall down, Throw your head back, I will be with you soon." But to his ear came back the answering cry: "Oh! help me, father! I am going down." Swelled hard the muscles, still the draw came slow, And pale as death can make the ruddiest cheek, Now on the bridge And plunged into the water, while the train, The shore was gained, and from the slackened train And who can paint that grief, and who can know, We'll draw the veil; too sacred is such grief The lesson still remains--that sacrifice Is glorious beyond anything on earth. THE CHINAMAN'S PRODIGAL. At the Chinese Mission school a young Chinaman, Wong Lee, read the Testament in English and then from memory gave the sense of what he had read. This is what he made of the parable of the Prodigal Son: A man, he two sons. Son speakee he to fathel; fathel got heap o' money; give some he. He takee half; he go iong way-like me come China to Philadelp. No be careful of money, spend too much; money all gone; he velly hungry. He go to boss. He want job, he say; all light; he tell him feed pigs. He give pigs beans; he eat with pigs, self. He just now talk: My fathel he velly lich-too muchee money. What for me stay here hungly? Me wantee go back and see my fathel.” He go back; long way fathel see him. He takee him on the neck. The son say: "I velly bad. Me no be your son; me be coolie," His fathel say: "Get handsome coat; give he ling; bling fat cow-kill cow; give he plenty eat." They velly glad. He allee same dead; just now come back alive; he lost; he get back. Othel son come. He listen music. He ask servant: "What fol they makee music?" He say: "You blothel come back; fathel velly glad he no sick; he kill fat cow." Othel son velly mad; he no go inside. Fathel he come out; he say: "No, no be mad." Othel son he say: "I stay allee time by my fathel; never makee him mad. My fathel no kill fat cow fol me. Blothel he velly bad; he spend money too much; he have fat cow and music." Fathel say: "You no undelstand; he just dead; he now come to life; he lost; be now come back." They all makee music. OUR CHURCH SOCIABLE.*-LOUIS EISENBEIS. What's got the matter in the church, have Christians quit aspeakin'? Because the preacher said to-day, “We'll have a social meet in'." He wanted all to come, he said, and speak and git acquainted It sounded so outlandish queer, I purty nearly fainted. Somehow, I got the notion that the members of a meetin' Don't have to first git introduced, to give a friendly greetin'. Them kind of people,'pears to me, have souls as tuff as leather, They ought to have religion 'nuff to bind 'em all together. I never knowed until to-day, the Church was so unsainted That when you once got in, 'twas hard to speak and git acquainted; Does jinin' meetin' change the face of sister and of brother So dreadful much that when they meet, they hardly know each other? I hardly think it, for last washday-the children were ascreamin' They come to git the pew rent. I was washin', scrubbin', cleanin', And though I hardly knowed myself, I looked so out of sea son, They really called me by my name, and smiled so sweet an pleasin'. They knowed me, but I think there's some, who seem to've lost their reason, Who 'pear to bring in loads of ice, to give the church a freezin': They'll give you chills in summer-time; they're cold as blocks of granite, And strut about with heads so high, you'd think they'd bump a planet. Why, only last communion day, I saw a deacon brother, Just after Parson Brown had preached on, “Lovin' one another," Pull out his pocket handkercher, an wipe his weepin' eye, And when I turned to speak to him, he coolly passed me by. Another time, I mind it well, I often think upon it, I wore my yaller weddin'-dress and green Parisian bonnet; *By permission. Mr. Eisenbeis has contributed to this Series: "The Church Fair," The Parson's Vacation," ""The Deacon, Me and Him," and other popu lar recitations in the same vein. |