LESSON IX.

Whitsunday.

PLESHIP.

This discourse is a solemn sequel to our Lord's announcement respecting Himself and the rebuke of Peter (see last lesson); teaching that not only He, but also His followers, must suffer and self-deny; that they all have a life to save, more precious than all else to them; and that the great day of account of that life's welfare should be ever before them."-(Alford).

V. 34. He called the people, for He wished to publish this doctrine of selfdenial far and wide over the world. It contains the conditions of discipleship the world over, and for all men and all ages of time. Cross-bearing is not for a few, who intend, by entering a convent or cloister, to carry it out; but for all, in the daily duties of private, domestic and public life.

But who will desire to follow Christ, when so much self-denial is required? No one will be willing of himself to do so; but the Father will draw many to do so, by the influence of the Holy Spirit, whose Advent the Church celebrates to-day. His descent upon the disciples on Pentecost was "the coming of the Kingdom of God with power." (See last verse of this lesson). The Kingdom being established, the call goes forth to all the people to follow Christ. (v. 34). In a few words we are here taught what it is to be a follower of Jesus.

The invitation is general, and is addres ed to all mankind, old and young: "Whosoever wills to come after M." But none are to do so in ignorance and without knowing what is involved. The Apostles did not realize the self-denial which would be required. Now He declares it plainly. The way of the cross must be trodden not only by the Master, but also by His servants.

"Must Jesus bear the cross alone,

And all the world go free?
No, there's a cross for every one,
And there's a cross for me."

There are four conditions of discipleship: (1). It must be voluntary, free, and not enforced; whosoever will. Of

(2). Self-denial is required. Self-will must be surrendered to a higher will; all trust in personal merits must give place to trust in Christ's merits; sinful indulgences must cease, and a wholesome self-restraint must be exercised. 'Put down self in order to set up Christ as King" in the heart.

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(3). Taking up the cross is another condition. This is not merely crossbearing, but cross-taking-not merely "submission to burdens which God's providence lays upon us, but a voluntary assuming of burdens."

(4). Following Christ implies a secret love of, and a public confession of Him. A life like that which He led, we must lead, and persevere in it unto the end. His example must be our guide.

II. THE REASONS FOR BECOMING DISCIPLES.

V. 35-37. Effort, toil and sacrifice are involved in discipleship, and this prevents many from making any attempt at following Jesus. But there are many weighty reasons for doing so, notwithstanding the seemingly hard conditions.

1. Save his life. . . lose it. "Whosoever counts his life of so much value that he will preserve it by sacrificing his Christian integrity, or will renounce his religion to save his life, will find in the end that he has lost his soul forever for the sake of a few fleeting years. All self-seeking is self-losing." Whereas, loss for Carist's cause and sake becomes gain. The farmer loses his grain in the earth; but the harvest brings him great gain.

2. Gaining the whole world is little compared with losing one's own soulthat little inner world from which we cannot be divorced.

When Jesus spoke these words there was one who ruled the whole Roman world-Tiberius-and Pliny says "he was the most gloomy of mankind."

3. In exchange; "when a man's life has been spent, what can he give as a ransom to get its return? All other loss can be repaired; a lost life can never be regained."

VOL. XXXIII.

CATCHING WILD PIGEONS.

BY REV. ELI KELLER.

CHAPTER I.

The Situation.

Between the Delaware River and the Blue Mountains, in Northampton county, Pa., lies a beautiful section of our great country. Many a crook and many a pleasant nook are found along the sparkling streamlets that flow either eastward into Martin's Creek, or westward into the Bushkill. There are here and there little towns, or rather clusters of houses, where necessary business is done; and where those engaged therein find comfortable homes. Most of that country, however, is taken up in farms, and many a one still numbers several hundred acres. The lower lands and those along the hill-sides, where running water is secured, are, as a rule, turned into meadows, the northern slopes and higher parts are covered with wood, and the rest is given to earnest and faithful tillage.

In this part of our " Keystone State" lives an old and well-to-do farmer, whom we will call Uncle Ned. His house is built of sand-stone, gathered along a little brook on his own land, long ago. Near the house on one side stands a large Swiss barn, and on the other, a springhouse. Back of the barn stretches far away, an orchard made up of both apple and pear-trees of choicest varieties, and over the spring-house and spring beside it a huge weeping-willow spreads its waving branches. Uncle Ned has passed the meridian of life. Still vigorous in body and mind, he allows others to attend to the farm-work, unless it be to do some little chores about the buildings. He cares little for the news of the

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day, but always finds time to read, at least a chapter a day, in his old family Bible. He has, so far as this world is concerned, few desires, and his mind is bent more on the past than on the present.

At his house are not unfrequently found nephews and other relatives from the city of Philadelphia. Among these we single out two brothers, sons of a younger brother of old Ned. The older of the two is Harry, and the younger, Jeff. Both love the country and love their uncle Ned. The homestead has to them the greater attractions from knowing that it is the place where their forefathers for a long time past lived-where their own father spent the days of his childhood and early youth. On these same hills he looked, many years ago, and drank many a cool draught out of that same never-failing spring. To these fields, as a lad, he drove the cattle in the morning, and brought them home again at night. Along these slopes he followed the plough and harrow, and in that same green meadow he tried his strength as well as his skill at the scythe. Through the same door he entered that house, and slept under the same roof.

These two brothers, though comparatively young, attend one of the higher literary institutions of the city, and stand foremost in their respective classes. Their long summer vacations, however, are aimost invariably spent in this "rural retreat -as they love to call it. At times they are seen on the highest hills, on the very tree-tops, and their joyous voices ring through the clear air, either in shouts or songs-or rather, in both, strangely mingled. Then, again, they are after butterflies and beetles along the springs and water courses in the meadows, to enrich their cabinets of natural curiosities.

In their varied rambles they prefer to

down. If the first was not successful, a second, and even a third one was quickly

sent after.

Pigeons when on the ground and seeking food, all move in the same direction. Those falling back, not to lose their chances, fly continually and eagerly across their leaders, and thus "change front." This movement must be imitated by the stool-pigeons, and is the most difficult part of the whole business.

The stools are differently made, but the common object is to raise the pigeon (by means of a long string fastened to it,) and let it down in again in a way that it resembles as nearly as possible a pigeon flying a few steps, and lighting again. Seeing this movement of the stool-pigeon, the coming pigeons, as though they imagined a whole flock of their fellows in pursuit of food, are at once (if at all) attracted.

To train these pigeons took time as well as great and constant care. As a rule, they were blindfolded, so as not to be so easily disturbed by the surroundings. This was done by running a fine silk thread (with a needle) through the lower eye-lids, and fastened across their little heads. A very few did all that was required with open eyes; but those that did so, made themselves famous by it. To pay from $5 to $10 apiece in those days for a good stool-pigeon, especially of this sort, was not considered too high a price. Another thing was, to have a large and good net. Our own was of the best linen, and thoroughly "home-made." We raised the flax ourselves, which was of extra quality, and prepared it with all due care. Mother herself did the spinning-that was your grandmother,―and a better flax-spinster, I am free to say, never lived.

"Was that grandmother's spinningwheel," interrupted Jeff, "which we found yes erday on the shop-garret? In the back shed we also saw heavy, gray bundles, which some one called flax? I would much like to hear how flax is grown and manufactured. Cotton mills I have seen all through,' but between cotton and flax, in their raw state, what a world of difference!"

Uncle Ned smiled, but shook his head. "That was, indeed, mother's spinningwheel, and no money could buy it! That flax also we have kept for a long time,

and is just as good now as it was the blessed year it grew! But to tell you how flax grows and the whole process of manufacturing it, would make another story--too long for to-day!"

"Let's hear about the pigeon-net,' said Harry. "One thing at a time."

"

"An ordinary net was about 14x25 feet in size, end the meshes an inch and a half. The net was surrounded by a thin rope of the best make. The one long side was fastened to the ground with wooden pins, and the other to a rope, say 190 feet in length. By means of that rope, extended on both sides of the net and fastened to two high and flexible stakes, the net itself could be flung out to its full length in the twinkling of an eye. To do this, however, there were two 'sitting-sticks' with a notch in the end of each, so placed at the short sides of the net that the long rope could be forced to the ground, giving it a strong tension, and fastened under two hooked pins. This being done, the net was carefully folded up, laid along along in a narrow gutter and covered up with a little chaff, or stubble. One stout pull at the long rope in the direction of the hooks, would set off' the net, and that

with a rush! Another requisite was a hut (for concealment,) placed at the end of the long rope. This was mostly made of evergreens, but also at times with the branches of other trees, well covered with leaves. It was in size about six feet square, and nearly the same in height. The contents of it were quite simple. A pigeon-basket (all covered, with a little door at one side), a few ears of corn and some buckwheat or other small grain in a bag. This grain was, as circumstances required, scattered on the bed' of the net. The corn, by its size and color, drew notice the more readily. The smaller grain detained the pigeons, and thus gathered them almost ou a heap!

"Indeed, my lads!" said Uncle Ned, many a pleasant hour did your father and I spend in and around the pigeonhut. Hours long to be remembered; yes, never to be forgotten! Hours full of sunshine, the remembrance of which causes no regret, unless it be that they fled too soon, and that, alas!-never to return."

(To be continued.)