Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small][subsumed]
[blocks in formation]

The Doll's Doctor.

SAM SEAFORD's business was to mind boats and sails; but when not engaged that way he made and mended toy-boats for the children, with whom he was a great favourite. Sometimes he took them out for a row in his little punt when their parents gave permission; he told them a lot of things about shells, and fish, and sea-weeds; put new handles to their spades, and wheels to their sand-barrows, and spun long yarns to them under the shelter of the boats when it was too hot for them to run about. And, withal, he was so kind and good-tempered, and had such stores of old knives, and nails, and ware, and twine, and odds and ends of all sorts, that the children were drawn to him by an irresistable attraction. He was always ready to enter into their little troubles, and to minister to them help in every way he could think of. One morning, while busy painting an old boat, two girls came to him in evident distress. They were pretty girls, but their faces were blurred with weeping, and the tears still moistened their eyes. Sam asked kindly what was the matter, and without saying a word they showed him their dolls. Taking one of them in his hand, he said, 'Poor thing! she looks badly, but a new pair of eyebrows, and fresh lips and cheeks will greatly improve her appearance;' and taking up a little brush he soon had the defaced beauty of the doll restored, to the unspeakable joy of the owner. He did the like service to the other, and then laid both dolls carefully aside to dry, saying to the girls that he would keep them by him till the evening, when, if they came again, they should have them; and at the same time he promised them a sail in his punt, if their parents gave permission. The girls returned home with gladdened hearts, and came back in the evening to receive their dolls, and claim their promised sail.

The Youthful Nartyr.

In the days of the young king, Edward VI., a Bible was placed on a desk in every church in England for the use of the people. But when Queen Mary, a stern Paptist, ascended the throne, she quickly ordered the removal of the Bibles. In a few places her commands were not received, or not obeyed, and so it came about that there still lay the old

Bible on a stand just inside the porch of the church at Brentwood, in Essex.

It was in the spring of the year 1555, when a youth, named William Hunter, entered the church to read the book he loved. He was an apprentice to a London weaver, but was now on a visit to his native town. As he stood reading the holy book, a man of the man of Atwell, an officer of the popish bishop, came that way, and saw him so engaged.

Why meddlest thou with the Bible?' said the officer. Knowest thou how to read? and canst thou expound the Scriptures?'

The youth modestly replied, 'Father Atwell, I take not upon me to expound the Scriptures; but finding the Bible here, I read it for my comfort.'

The officer then began to speak scornfully of the sacred Word as a hurtful book.

But as Atwell could not prevail with the lad, he cried, 'I see you are one who dislikes the queen's laws. I have heard how you left London on that account; but if you do not turn, you, as weil as many other heretics, will burn for your opinions.'

'God give me grace,' meekly replied William, 'that I may believe His word, and confess His whatever may come of it.' name,

'Confess His name!' shouted old Atwell. 'No, no; you will go to the evil one, all of you.'

Atwell quickly left the chapel, and meeting a priest, returned with him to where William was reading, when the priest began to upbraid and threaten him. The youth well knew what this meant, so he hastened to his father's house, and taking a hasty leave of his parents, fled from the town.

A few days after William had gone a justice sent for the father, and ordered him to produce his son, and upon this errand the poor father was obliged to depart. He rode about for two or three days, hoping to satisfy the justice without finding his son. lad, however, saw his father at a distance, and went to meet him. On learning the danger of his parent he said he would return, rather than place his father in any peril.

The

Early the next morning, William was taken before a justice of the peace, who ordered him to be carried to the old palace in the fields of Bethnal Green, where Bonner, the Popish bishop of London, then resided. When he stood in the hall of the palace the bishop first spoke to him gently, then sternly, and then roughly; but still the youth would not promise to give up the Bible. 'Away with him, then to the stocks!' cried the bishop.

THE CORN AND THE LILIES.

To the stocks William was hurried. Two long days and nights he there lay, without any food, except a crust of brown bread and a small supply of water.

The bishop then sent William to one of the London prisons, with strict orders to the jailer to put as many iron chains upon him as he could possibly bear. And in a dungeon he was confined for three quarters of a year, hoping, trusting, praying always.

Bishop Bonner one day thought of the Bibleloving lad in prison, and sent for him to his palace. 'If you recant,' said the bishop, 'I will give you forty pounds, and set you up in business.' This was a large sum of money in those days, and the offer was very tempting, but it was at once rejected.

'I will make you steward of my own house,' added Bonner, in a gentle and crafty manner.

'But, my lord,' was the reply, if you cannot persuade my conscience by Scripture, I cannot find in my heart to turn from God for the love of the world; for I count all worldly things but loss in comparison with the love of Christ.'

'Will neither threats nor promises avail! Then away with him to the fire!'

There was no prison in the little town, so the martyr youth was confined in an inn, and guarded by constables. His mother heard of his return, and with true love rushed to the place where he lay. And when she found him happy and constant, she blessed God for such a son, and the more so when he said: "For my little pain which I shall suffer Christ hath procured for me a crown of joy; are you not glad of that, mother!'

They then knelt down, and she prayed to God to strengthen her boy to the end.

At length the morning came that young William was to die. As the young martyr was led along from the inn, his father rushed forward toward him in agony of parental feeling. Throwing his arms around the neck of his noble boy, he said, with flowings tears, 'God be with thee, son William.'

The son replied: 'God be with you, father; be of good comfort; I trust we shall meet again where we shall rejoice together.'

The fire was now lighted, and as the flames began to rise, William, who still held in his hand a book of Psalms, threw it into the hands of his brother, who had followed him to the place of death. His brother, calling to him, said, 'William, think on the sufferings of Christ, and be not afraid.'

'I am not afraid,' added the martyr. 'Lord,

107

Lord, receive my spirit.' These were his last words. The fire was lighted; the dry fagots burned briskly ; and the flames soon wrapped around his body. In a few minutes his sufferings were at an end for

ever.

The Corn and the Lilies.

SAID the corn to the lilies,
'Press not near my feet;
You are only idlers-

Neither corn nor wheat;
Does one earn a living

Just by being sweet?'

Naught answered the lilies-

Neither yea nor nay;
Only they grew sweeter

All the live-long day.
And at last the Teacher

Chanced to come that way.

While His tired disciples

Rested at His feet,

And the proud corn rustled,

Bidding them to eat, 'Children,' said the Teacher, 'The life is more than meat.

'Consider the lilies,

How beautiful they grow! Never king had such glory;

Yet no toil they know.' O how happy were the lilies That he loved them so.

The Good Longfellow.

PROF. MONTI tells a story which shows how thoughtful the poet Longfellow was of the children. One day as the professor was on his way to the poet's house, a little girl of about twelve years of age asked him how she could find where Mr. Longfellow lived. He told her to go with him and he would show her. When they reached the house, she said she would like to go into the yard; and when the good Italian pointed out the very window at which he said she might, perhaps, see Mr. Longfellow reading, she was very happy at the thought of seeing the man whose poems she so dearly loved.

108

READING THE BIBLE WELL.

When Prof. Monti had gone in and greeted his old friend, he said to him, 'Look out and bow to that little girl, who wants to see you so much.' That was enough for Mr. Longfellow. He went quickly to the door, and called her to come in. Then how welcome he made his little lover! He showed her the great chair, built from the old chesnut-tree, for the poet's study, by the offerings of the children, the old clock on the stairs,' and many beautiful things which he had brought from the old world; and when the delighted child went away, she carried with her a life-long memory of a happy hour spent with one of the kindliest as with one of the greatest of men.

Reading the Bible Well.

A LITTLE boy came home one day from church service, from which his parents had been detained, and asked his father if he ever read the twentyfirst chapter of Revelation.

'O yes, often,' said his father.

'But did you ever read it to us here at home?' 'I think so.'

'Well, father, I don't think I ever heard it. The minister read it to-day, and it was just as if he had taken a pencil and paper and pictured it right out before us.'

So much is there in good reading. I have often wondered how Jesus read the old prophets the day he went into the meeting and took up the Scriptures and read them before the congregation. The eyes of every one were 'fastened upon him,' and all wondered at the gracious words that proceeded out of his mouth. If we could read the Bible as he did, what would it be in our houses! It is worth a mother's while to study elocution, to some extent, as well as to study deeply the spirit of the word, if she would make her Bible-reading effective on the hearts of her children. A monotonous way of reading takes much of the life out of the sweetest portions.

A conversational tone and manner are much more instructive than the 'Bible twang,' which the good old Scotch grandmother held so sacred that she sharply reproved her laddie for using it when reading the newspaper.

Cotton.

You know that an immense deal of cotton is spun and manufactured in this country; and where do you think it all comes from? Some of it comes from India, China, Ceylon, and some other countries

of what is called the Old World; but by far the largest quantity comes from the Southern States of North America, where it flourishes under a tropical sun, and affords employment to a great number of black people who were fomerly slaves, but are now free. I cannot tell you how many kinds of this plant there are some of them are quite trees, some shrubs, and some are raised yearly from seeds. The cotton-picking season is a very busy time, and the black people, both men and women, gather the pods as quickly as possible into large baskets, which, when full, they carry away on their heads to the ginning houses, where the cotton is separated from the pods. Then little boys and girls are also made use of as soon as they are old enough to do anything, and among them all stands the overseer in his broad-brimmed hat, watching to see that no one is idle, that there is no play or mischief going on, but that all hands are at work picking the pods. In the days of slavery these overseers were often very cruel, and used their whips unsparingly on any unfortunate pickers who did not get on fast enough. The gins which are used to separate the cotton from the pod are of different kinds. The one most in use consists of an iron bed, full of slits, on which the cotton is laid, and then there are a series of saws which, as they turn round, draw the cotton through these slits, leaving all the seeds behind. When the cotton is thus cleansed it is packed and pressed as lightly as possible into great bales, which are placed in large two-wheeled ox-carts. In the picture you may see one of these laden ox-carts winding round the hill, on the top of which stands the planter's house, so placed to catch every breath of air, while the verandah around it affords a welcome shade to the family, who are glad to be out of doors without being exposed to the scorching sun. Many of the cotton plantations are near some of the beautiful rivers of the country, which are navigated by steamers with powerful engines; so the waggons convey the bales to the river bank where, by means of cranes, they are lowered to the vessels waiting to receive them; then they are taken away to the nearest port, and transferred to the great merchant ships that cross the Atlantic and bring them to England. In the great mills of Lancashire, Glasgow, Paisley, and other towns the cotton is carded, spun, and woven into calicoes, muslins, and prints, and sent, not only to many European countries, but into the interior of Asia, Africa, and Australasia, while a good deal finds its way back to the shores of America, from whence it was shipped in so different a form.

[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][merged small]
« AnteriorContinuar »