We have read a touching incident about three little children, who, last
autumn late in the season, wandered alone in a dreary region of New
Brunswick. The sun had already sunk in the west and the gloom of evening
was spreading itself over the surrounding country.
The night came on fast; and feeling sure that they could not get home
before day break, the eldest (a girl of only six years) quietly placed
the two little ones in a sheltered nook on the sea-beach; and fearing
the cold chilly night for the younger children, Mary stripped off most
of her own clothes to keep them warm.
She then started off to gather dry sea-weed, and whatever else she could
find, to cover them with. Having tenderly in this way wrought for some
time to make them a nest, she at last fell down exhausted with the cold,
and half bare to the cold inclement night.
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That evening the loving father and tender mother sat up wondering at
their children's long absence; the hours dragged slowly past with anxious
watching and silent listening for the well-known little pattering feet.
In vain the fond parents' eyes pierced through the darkness. At length
they roused the neighbors with their anxious inquiries after their lost
ones. All that night was passed in searching and in tears, till early
in the morning, lying fast asleep and somewhat numbed with cold, were
found little Johnny and Lizzie. But oh! a touching spectacle lay near
them; their young savior was stiff, cold, and dead on the sea-weed which
the poor little child-heroine had not strength to drag into the nook,
where those she so deeply loved, and died to save, were sleeping. Thus
this little New Brunswick girl died in her successful and self-sacrificing
endeavor to save her brother and sister.
Does not this recall the love of the Lord Jesus Christ to you who read?
Mary went to the full extent of human love in dying for her little brother
and sister. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his
life for his friends." Yet the Lord Jesus laid down his life for his
enemies; for "scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet peradventure
for a good man some would even dare to die; but God commendeth His love
toward us," etc. He makes no mistakes. Yet how many listen to this story
with more emotion and interest than they do to the story of the cross,
where the love of Jesus, the Son of God, is told in letters of blood!
--_Dawn of the Morning_