be captured and imprisoned. During the early part of his confinement Story spent much time in trying to invent some means of delivering himself from the grasp of his enemies, and from those who were also working to discourage true religion in England. He happened to know a person of the name of Brough, who was a friend of the Chief Justice Jeffreys, and with whom Story once spent some hours in company with the Judge. The prisoner now turned his thoughts to his friend, and, on being applied to, he readily undertook to render any assistance within his power. Accordingly, Jeffreys was waited upon at one of the morning levees which he was accustomed to hold. Brough remained some short time among the crowd; but being a tall conspicuous figure, as well as a particular acquaintance of the Chief Justice, he was soon requested to enter the drawing-room. "I pray thee, Robin, to what is it that I must ascribe this morning visit?" said the judge. "To enquire after your lordship's welfare," was the answer. "No, no, Robin! I am not to be put off with such flams as that," replied Jeffreys; "Thou art come to solicit favour on behalf of some snivelling Whig, or fanatic, that is got into Lob's pound yonder in the West. . . Thou mightest as well have spared thy labour." Brough now began to explain himself. All were not alike guilty; and besides, Story owed him, the speaker, one hundred pounds or more, and therefore it was hoped that he would not be consigned to death with others. Jeffreys was just about to start on that tour of butchery, which history has chronicled as the "Bloody Assizes," and Brough offered to accompany him; but to this proposition the other would not consent. "Take my advice," he said, "for once, and go thy ways home, and take not the least notice to any of what has passed. Particularly take care to give no hint to Story himself, or to any one capable of conveying it to him, that there has been any application to me concerning him; and though he should write never so often, give him no answer directly or indirectly. . . . . I'll see what can be done."

This counsel was acted upon, though in the meantime, Story languished in a western gaol, and supposed himself to be forsaken by man, as none of his letters were once noticed. Then came the dreaded day of trial. Story stood before the ferocious judge and heard a specimen of that judge's rhetorical powers-"What forlorn creature is that that stands there? It is certainly the ugliest creature my eyes ever beheld ! ... Ay, Story! I confess I have heard enough of thee! Thou art a sanctified rogue! A double-dyed villain! The common punishment is not bad enough for thee! . . . I'll give thee thy desert, I'll warrant thee!" No words, however, could convey even a faint impression of the nature of the ravings and bellowings which proceeded from the bench. It was as though some volcano had suddenly burst forth in violent eruption. The judge shouted, railed, and threatened until he foamed at the mouth, and until the strain on his lung-power seemed to interfere with his breath.

Yet all this time, and after the trial, some mysterious influence was working. The prisoner was respited, and sent from prison to prison until he reached Newgate, in London. In Newgate he was heavily ironed, besides being confined in a dark, loathsome dungeon, wherein, when the noontide sun was shining, he barely had sufficient light, even

while standing on a box to catch the rays, to make out a few verses in his pocket Bible. Again he seemed to be forsaken, and doomed to destruction.

But one day Story was startled by being summoned to appear before the King in Council. Very naturally, he wished to put himself in proper order this, however, he was not suffered to do. Friends were not allowed to bring decent clothes. The prisoner must not even be shaved. He must appear before the King precisely as he was. A coach was brought, in which the prisoner, attended by a keeper, rode to Whitehall; and the keeper advised Story, in a confidential manner, to answer straightforwardly any questions which his Majesty might ask. The prisoner was in a frightful condition. He more resembled the ghost of a man, clad in polluted grave-clothes, than a living human creature. "Is that a man?" cried the King, in accents of horror, as the apparition-like being entered, and filled the presence-chamber with the fumes of prisonfever "Is that a man?" Then James recognised him and said, "Pray, Mr. Story, you were in Monmouth's army in the West?" Yes, an't please, your Majesty." "And you were a commissary there, were you not?" "Yes, an't please, your Majesty." "And you made a speech before great crowds of people?" "Yes, an't please, your Majesty." "Pray let us have some of your fine-flowed speech, some of the flowers of your rhetoric," continued the King. "I told them," replied the unabashed Story, "that it was you that fired the city of London, that you poisoned your brother, and that your Majesty appeared to be fully determined to make the nation both papists and slaves." "A rare rogue! impudence in the height of it! a rogue with a witness!" cried James, in astonishment; "But what would you do, Story, if, after all this, I should grant you your life?" "Pray for your Majesty as long as you live." "Then," replied James, "I freely pardon all that is past, and hope you will not, for the future, represent your King as inexorable."

When, three or four years later, Jeffreys himself was in trouble, he, in turn, applied to Story for protection and shelter from the fury of the enraged populace of the Revolution. He did not apply in vain. Story could not have admired the character of a monster so utterly wanting in instincts of humanity as Jeffreys; he declared, nevertheless, that rather than have denied succour to the man who once saved him, he would have hazarded his very life.

The Model Superintendent.

BY VERNON J. CHARLESWORTH.

HAVING exposed the faults and foibles of Sunday-school Superintendents,

we now propose to indicate the chief characteristics of those who may be regarded as models worthy of imitation. It is of the utmost importance that a superintendent should be perfectly competent to discharge the duties of his office. The non-success attending the labours of many a band of devoted teachers is due, to a great extent, to the inefficiency of their leaders. A wellofficered school has the best guarantee of success, humanly speaking; nor do we

think it any reflection upon the sovereignty of God to say so.

The Lord works

by means of human agency, and commands his blessings upon the labours of those who are endowed with the essential qualifications for the specific work they have undertaken. Many Christian men have spent years of anxious but fruitless toil in spheres for which they had no adaptation, while their better qualified successors have enjoyed uninterrupted prosperity.

No sphere of Christian activity and usefulness is of more importance than the Sunday-school, and yet how seldom do we see the right men at the head of affairs! It is a matter of the utmost difficulty to find a duly qualified superintendent; hence many have been called into office, not on account of their peculiar fitness for the work but from the fact that they were the only individuals at command. Such men, we admit, have often laboured with commendable zeal and diligence, but their inaptitude has thwarted their best endeavours and disappointed the sanguine expectations of their co-workers. It is unfortunate that an inefficient man, when once elected to office, becomes blind to his own failings, and persistently retains his office, even when the services of another are available. We have known instances of this perversity where the results have been most lamentable. The superintendent has failed to command the confidence of the teachers, the classes have been disorganised, and the school, instead of proving a power for good, has become a scene of disorder and a scandal to the church. An annual election of officers is in many cases most desirable, as it affords an opportunity of change till the right man comes to occupy the right place; and every true Christian will feel it no dishonour to vacate a position for which he is adjudged unfit by those competent to form an opinion. The modest estimate we should form of ourselves, and the submissive spirit we should ever cherish, will constrain the dignified surrender of place or power, for the glory of God and the common weal.

It is to be deplored that many teachers have committed the serious mistake of electing a superintendent because he happened to enjoy the reputation of being rich and occupied a palatial dwelling. The church at large is too much influenced by the world's beatitude-" Blessed is the man who has plenty of money," forgetting that character not coin, piety not position, are the qualities which should commend a candidate for Christian service. Mr. Bounce may be an important individual in his way, and his patronage may be prized by the members of "the cause," but he is not, therefore, a fit man to conduct the Sunday-school. Of course it must be admitted that his influence will command the attendance of the respectable children in the neighbourhood, but we have yet to learn that the value of souls is increased in the ratio of the cost of the clothes and jewels which cover and adorn the body.

The superintendent of a school should be chosen for his personal worth and his fitness for the office, from his experience in the work. It should be the ambition of every teacher to become qualified for the office of superintendent, and to labour with all diligence in his special department until summoned to take the reins of government by the voice of his fellow labourers. As in an ideal regiment, every soldier carries a marshal's baton in his knapsack, and is competent to command if the officers should fall at the post of duty, so should it be in the Sabbath-school. This would be one of the best guarantees of discipline, because those who are most competent to command know how to respect authority and yield obedience to their superiors.

Our model superintendent is a man who remembers the fact that he was once a boy, and this enables him to tolerate the frailties incident to childhood, and to form a correct estimate of their moral value. He does not expect boys to be grave as their grandsires. His sympathies are intense, and his scholars love him in return. He controls the school without difficulty, because the children yield a ready obedience to his commands.

He is cheerful without being flippant. His face is a transparent medium through which the kindliness of his heart is seen. We cannot understand the man who, in the presence of children, is as gloomy as the moon in a November

fog, or as crabbed as though he had been weaned on cream of tartar. Let cheerfulness be maintained, but let it not degenerate into levity. We would not sanction the appointment of a man whose laugh is a giggle, and whose manner betrays a want of self-respect, for he would fail to command esteem and enforce discipline. It is possible to maintain cheerfulness without levity, and to be sober without being morose; but there are Christians who supplement the decalogue with the prohibitory command-"Thou shalt not laugh," and as to anything cheerful, like the monks of La Trappe, they impose upon themselves the vow of silence. In a beautiful world like this, where the sun kisses the flowers into beauty, and evokes the choral symphonies of the feathered tribe, the man who neither laughs nor sings is certainly out of place; and in the midst of children, whose affections instinctively embrace both flowers and birds, no one can be "at home" unless beauty and song are the apt exponents of the inner life. Heartiness, joyousness, and sympathy with the young are as essential to a model superintendent as trees and fields, and the glad sunlight to the beauty of a landscape.

To cheerfulness, tempered by sobriety, our model friend unites devoutnessthat chastened experience of the Godward side of our nature. Like the prophet of Horeb, he knows the bliss and power which come from divine fellowship, and therefore he seeks a renewal of his intercourse with heaven before he comes forth on the Lord's day to command the marching host. In every leader this must be maintained, even at the cost of the surrender of cherished idols, the abandonment of fond pursuits, and the sacrifice of earlier friendships. To dwell in the sunlight of the smile of God, to be energised by the divine strength, are blessings too great to be estimated by comparison with aught this world can yield; and he who is in earnest for eternity will account wealth, pleasure, and fame as trifles beneath his notice. The words of the Lord Jesus, spoken eighteen hundred years ago, "He that will come after me let him deny himself,” are, alas! scarcely audible above the din of business, or are heard only in feeble echo; and yet all true success is measured by our surrender, in obedience to the mind and will of the Lord Jesus.

Prayer becomes a constant habit to the devout man, and his success is the divine response to his earnest pleadings at the throne of grace. The difficulties and vexations of his responsible office are mainly met in the solitude of his closet; he transacts more business with God than with man. Everything is sanctified by the word of God and prayer.

In ruling he is firm without being harsh. His kindness does not blind his eyes to the disobedience of his scholars, or lead him to tolerate a course of conduct inconsistent with true discipline. Having a reason for his commands, they are enforced without resorting to fiery threats, or angry denunciations. The scholars know he is not to be trifled with, and obey accordingly. A look from him is more efficacious than a lecture from a man of vacillating spirit.

But his firmness does not involve a disregard of the opinions of his fellow labourers. He knows how to conciliate their prejudices without compromising his own conscience, and always submits his plans in such a way to their judg ment that he commands their approval and enlists their co-operation. He is firm because he is acting constitutionally and has the teachers at his back; an obstinate tyrant never attains such firmness as he.

Strictly methodical in all he undertakes, he is never unduly excited. He is calm in his self-possession, and has a reason for everything he attempts and for all the methods he employs. Possessed of these qualifications, his teachers can trust him, and their co-operation is most hearty and thorough. He sets them such an example that they are elevated by it, and the tone of the school rises to a higher standard. The influence of the superintendent pervades the whole staff, and creates a holy and earnest feeling, which becomes the mainspring of power. All are imbued with the spirit of consecration, and strive to keep "the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace." The classes are well sustained by efficient teachers, and every year there are accessions to the church.

Happy is the man who combines these qualities, and happy is the school which commands his services.

We trust no worker will be discouraged if, in comparing himself with this ideal, he is conscious of not having reached it. It is far from our purpose to damp the ardour of any already engaged in the work, or to dissuade those who desire so good an office. Those who have had any experience in the Sundayschool must admit that we have indicated only the most essential and easily attained qualifications. To be successful a superintendent must be equal to the model we have endeavoured to pourtray. Should he stand condemned by his own just verdict, let him resolve to " go on unto perfection." The artist who contemplates a Raphael or a Michael Angelo may become conscious of his own shortcomings, but he will derive a healthy stimulus in his devotion to his art. It may be a trite remark, that "what is worth doing at all, is worth doing well," but its application to Christian work is most apparent. Let our superintendents view their work in the light of eternity, anticipating "the joy which is set before" them when the results of their labours will be disclosed in "the day of the Lord," and we venture to affirm they will "magnify their office," and spare no effort to become perfectly qualified for the discharge of its important functions.

AS

Talking to the Children.”

S we but seldom give our young friends papers designed for their exclusive benefit, we this month select a couple of stories from Dr. A. Macleod's "Talking to the Children," an attractive little volume published by Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton. The book is certain to find favour with the young.

BEAUTIFUL.

There is another road we all like to travel-I shall name it the road beautiful. Old and young of us are all fond of beauty, and we desire to be beautiful ourselves. It is not a wrong desire. God has put it deep down in every heart. It is a joy to him when we grow up beautiful, and he has laid down a great line of way, the line of loving-heartedness, on which the most heavenly beauty may be reached. But there are side lines, not made by God, where beauty parts from that which makes it beauty. My second warning, therefore, is, Beware, in life's journey, of those breaks where beauty parts from lovingheartedness. Here is the right road where beauty and the loving heart go together-Christ's road. There is the wrong one, where beauty turns away from love. On the one, love makes heart and face beautiful with divine beauty; it fills the heart with sweetness, and purity, and humility. And these are the great and best beautifiers. On the other, beauty goes the wrong way, the way where love is not; and the heart is filled with pride, and scorn, and envy, and hate, and at the end of this way the beauty is all dead and gone. There was, about thirty years ago, a very beautiful child in the same city I referred to before; everybody said of her when a child, "How beautiful she looks!" and she looked very beautiful. At school the other girls were struck with her beauty. She was all over beautiful, and had beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, a beautiful face and figure, her very feet were beautiful. But although the loving Christ had made this beauty, the beautiful girl would not travel on the same line with Christ's love, she turned aside on a line of her own; she would go where pride, and vanity, and scorn of others were. As she grew into womanhood there grew up in her heart pride in her own beauty; she said to herself, "I am more beautiful than Jane, or Mary, or Margaret, by my side." She ceased to love Jane and Mary