meetings of the club, Boyle dreamt that he was still riding, as usual,
upon his famous black horse, towards his own house--then a country seat
embowered by ancient trees, and situated upon a hill now built over by
the most fashionable part of Glasgow--and that he was suddenly accosted
by some one, whose personal appearance he could not, in the gloom of
night, distinctly discern, but who, seizing the reins, said, in a voice
apparently accustomed to command, "You must go with me." "And who are
you?" exclaimed Boyle, with a volley of blasphemous execrations, while
he struggled to disengage his reins from the intruder's grasp. "That you
will see by-and-bye," replied the same voice, in a cold, sneering tone,
that thrilled through his very heart. Boyle plunged his spurs into the
panting sides of his steed. The noble animal reared, and then darted
forward with a speed which nearly deprived his rider of breath. But in
vain--in vain! Fleeter than the wind he flew, the mysterious, half-seen
guide still in front of him! Agonized by he knew not what of
indescribable horror and awe, Boyle again furiously spurred the gallant
horse. It fiercely reared and plunged. He lost his seat, and expected at
the moment to feel himself dashed to the earth. But not so, for he
continued to fall--fall--fall--it appeared to himself with an
ever-increasing velocity. At length this terrific rapidity of motion
abated, and, to his amazement and horror, he perceived that this
mysterious attendant was close by his side. "Where," he exclaimed, in
the frantic energy of despair, "where are you taking me? Where am I?
Where am I going?" "To hell!" replied the same iron voice, and from the
depths below the sound so familiar to his lips was suddenly
re-echoed--"To hell!"
Onward, onward they hurried in darkness, rendered more horrible still by
the conscious presence of his spectral conductor. At length a glimmering
light appeared in the distance, and soon increased to a blaze. But, as
they approached it, in addition to the hideously discordant groans and
yells of agony and despair, his ears were assailed with what seemed to
be the echoes of frantic revelry.
Boyle at length perceived that he was surrounded by those whom he had
known on earth, but were some time dead, each one of them betraying his
agony at the bitter recollections of the vain pursuits that had
engrossed his time here.
Suddenly observing that his unearthly conductor had disappeared, he felt
so relieved by his absence that he ventured to address his former
friend, Mrs. D----, whom he saw sitting with eyes fixed in intense
earnestness, as she was wont on earth, apparently absorbed at her
favourite game of loo. "Ha! Mrs. D----! Delighted to see you! D'ye know
a fellow told me to-night he was bringing me to hell! Ha! ha! If this be
hell," said he, scoffingly, "what a ---- pleasant place it must be! Ha!
ha! Come now, my good Mrs. D----, for auld lang syne, do just stop for a
moment, rest, and"--"show me through the pleasures of hell," he was
going, with reckless profanity, to add; but, with a shriek that seemed
to cleave through his very soul, she exclaimed, "_Rest!_ There is no
rest in hell!" and from the interminable vaults, voices, as loud as
thunder, repeated the awful, the heart-withering sound, "_There is no
rest in hell!_" and he who, in his vision, walked among them in a mortal
frame of flesh and blood, felt how inexpressibly more horrible such
sounds could be than ever was the wildest shriek of agony on earth.
He saw Maxwell, the former companion of his own boyish profligacy, and
said, "Stop, Harry! stop! Speak to me! Oh, rest one moment!" Scarce had
the words been breathed from his faltering lips, when again his
terror-stricken ear was stunned with the same wild yell of agony,
re-echoed by ten thousand thousand voices--"_There is no rest in hell!_"
All at once he perceived that his unearthly conductor was once more by
his side. "Take me," shrieked Boyle, "take me from this place! By the
living God, whose name I have so often outraged, I adjure thee! Take me
from this place!"
"Canst thou still name His name?" said the fiend, with a hideous sneer.
"Go, then; but, in a year and a day, _we_ meet, to part no more!"
Boyle awoke; and he felt as if the last words of the fiend were traced
in letters of living fire upon his heart and brain. Unable, from actual
bodily ailment, to leave his bed for several days, the horrid vision had
full time to take effect upon his mind; and many were the pangs of tardy
remorse and ill-defined terror that beset his vice-stained soul, as he
lay in darkness and seclusion--to him so very unusual. He resolved,
utterly and for ever, to forsake "The Hell Club." Above all, he
determined that nothing on earth should tempt him to join the next
annual festival.
The companions of his licentiousness bound themselves by an oath never
to desist till they had discovered what was the matter with him, and had
cured him of _playing the Methodist;_ for their alarm as to losing "the
life of the Club" had been wrought up to the highest pitch by one of
their number declaring that, on unexpectedly entering Boyle's room, he
detected him in the act of hastily hiding a Book, which he actually
believed was the Bible.
Alas! alas! poor Boyle! Like many a youth, he was ashamed to avow his
convictions, and his endless ruin followed.
From the annual meeting he shrank with an instinctive horror, and made
up his mind _utterly to avoid it_. Well aware of this resolve, his
tempters determined he should have no choice. How potent, how active, is
the spirit of evil! How feeble is _unassisted_, _Christless_,
_unprayerful_ man! Boyle found himself, he could not tell how, seated at
that table on that very day, where he had sworn to himself a thousand
and a thousand times nothing on earth should make him sit.
His ears tingled, and his eyes swam, as he listened to the opening
sentence of the president's address--"Gentlemen, this is leap year;
therefore, it is _a year and a day_ since our last annual meeting."
Every nerve in Boyle's body twanged in agony at the ominous, the
well-remembered words. His first impulse was to rise and fly; but
then--the sneers! the sneers!
How many in this world, as well as poor Boyle, have dreaded a sneer, and
dared the wrath of an almighty and eternal God, rather than encounter
the sarcastic curl of a fellow-creature's lip!
The night was gloomy, with frequent and fitful gusts of chill and
howling wind, as Boyle, with fevered nerves and a reeling brain, mounted
his horse to return home.
The following morning, the well-known black steed was found, with saddle
and bridle on, quietly grazing on the road-side, about half-way to
Boyle's country-house, and a few yards from it lay the stiffened corpse
of its master.
Reader, the dream is horrible--truly horrible--yet not half so horrible
as the reality. Ah! no. No dream can picture the full, long misery of
"the worm that dieth not," "the fire that is never quenched," the woe
that never ends.
Oh, reader, if, under the poison of infidelity, you have been led to
doubt the existence of hell, I pray God you may believe the awful
reality ere you are in it!
If God did not punish sin, His indifference to it would encourage it. If
God did not punish sin, where were His holy abhorrence of it? If God did
not punish sin, His kingdom would be a moral chaos. But His Word
declares that "we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ,
that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to
that he hath done, whether it be good or bad" (2 Cor. v. 10).
Reader, as in the days of Noah, so now. Death threatens all who are out
of Christ, and, therefore, in their sins. There was then only one place
of safety; there is only one place of safety now--that is, in the Ark,
Christ. "YE MUST BE BORN AGAIN." The horror you have felt in reading
this dream will be no benefit to you if it is not made, in the hands of
the Spirit, the means of your flying to Christ for refuge.
Oh, that in some hearts, the reading of this sad narrative may prove the
means of producing the earnest cry, "Deliver me from going down to the
pit!" and "What must I do to be saved?" To such God's free invitation to
the heavy-laden sinner to come to Christ for rest is given, and Jesus
Himself declares, "Him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise cast out"
(John vi. 37).
THE SCOTCH THISTLE.
Why the Scots chose the thistle for a national insignia is told in this
legend. It was at the time of an invasion, when the destinies of
Scotland hung upon the result of a battle soon to come. The invaders
knew that the Scots were desperate, and availed themselves of a dark,
stormy night, and planned to fall upon the Scottish army on every side
at the same moment. Had they been suffered to execute their plan
undetected, they would certainly have succeeded in destroying the Scots;
but a simple accident betrayed them. When near the Scottish camp, the
foremost of the invaders removed the heavy shoes from their feet, so
that their steps might not be heard, and thus stealthily advancing
barefooted, a heavy, quick-tempered soldier trod squarely upon a huge
thistle, the sharp point of which gave such sudden and exquisite pain
that he cried out with a bitter curse. His cry aroused the outlying
Scots, and apprized them of their danger, and meeting the foe widely
divided for the purpose of encompassing the camp, they were enabled
easily to overcome them with great slaughter. When the Scots discovered
that it was to a thistle that they owed their victory, they adopted the
prickly plant as their national emblem.
COUSIN SUSAN'S NOTE-BOOK JOTTINGS ON THE LIFE AND WORK OF FATHER
CHINIQUY.
"BELOVED, BELIEVE NOT EVERY SPIRIT."
We have often wondered why any one should believe that a bit of
consecrated bread was the true body and soul of the Lord Jesus, and
that, as such, it should be reverenced and adored. But our surprise
abates, though our sorrow increases, when we trace the steps by which a
Roman Catholic reaches that point of folly and superstition, as the
interesting narrative of Father Chiniquy brings them to our view.
When he was eleven or twelve years old, he met with a class of lads
about the same age, to be prepared for his first communion; and there he
was taught that, just as his mother punished him more seldom and less
severely than his father for his faults, and just as his mother often
interceded for him and saved him from punishment altogether, so Mary was
more pitiful, more tender, than Jesus, and when He was righteously
angry, His mother--the mother of all who pray to her--turned away His
anger, and averted the strokes He was about to inflict on the sinner.
The thought of _this_ Christ--terrible, angry, unapproachable--was dark
and chilling in the extreme. He seemed a Being to be feared, but not
beloved.
And then the false Church presented another Christ to view--a god made
with hands, not of wood or stone, but of wheaten flour. The priest's
servant girl or attendant takes the dough, bakes it between two heated
irons, on which are graven the letters, I. H. S., and the figure of a
cross. These wafers, about four or five inches large, when well baked,
are cut with a pair of scissors into smaller ones, about one inch in
size, and then the priest, taking them to the altar, and pronouncing
Latin words for "This is My body," is supposed to turn each of these
into the Christ who lived and loved and suffered here, a gentle, tender,
loving Saviour; and the poor deluded creatures who tremble before Christ
in heaven, bow down and adore, when they do not eat, the paltry wafer
which the priest has blessed.
Chiniquy himself passed whole hours, in biting wintry weather, in a
church never warmed by a fire, worshipping this wafer god. He was
yearning for divine sympathy and love, and hoped he had it then.
And yet, though he tried to "believe a lie" so earnestly, his faith was
often shaken by what he saw and heard.
In a company of priests, a strange story was told of a drunken curate
and his deacon, who, called to go a long journey in snowy weather, to
carry the sacred wafer to a sick person, had a dispute with a traveller
as to which should lead his horses into the deep snow, the cleared path
being too narrow for the vehicles to pass each other. A terrible fight
took place. The priest's horses took fright and returned home, breaking
the sleigh all to pieces, and the little silk bag containing their "god"
was lost in the snow. It was carefully sought in vain, and not till the
month of June was it found, and then the wafer inside the little silver
box had melted away! And the priests laughed boisterously when they
heard it. Did they believe what they taught the people?
At another time, a blind priest had been adoring the bit of bread he had
just consecrated, but when he went to eat it, it was gone. In alarm, he
sent for Chiniquy, who was hearing confessions not far away, and as it
could nowhere be found, he knew that a rat had taken it, for the rats
were both numerous and bold in that place. The old priest was
inconsolable, though he blessed another piece and then concluded his
devotions. But his lamentations were so deep and long that Chiniquy at
last lost patience, and said a word or two which greatly shocked the
superstitious priest, who severely rebuked him, and ordered him for a
penance to kneel every day before the fourteen images representing "the
way of the cross," and say a penitential psalm before each for nine
days, and on no account to tell the story of the rat to any one. He
complied with these requests, and received a very gracious absolution.
But on the sixth day he pierced the skin of his knees while kneeling,
and the blood flowed freely, causing him great pain whenever he knelt or
walked, and all because he for a moment had doubted the right of Rome to
call that a god which a priest could professedly create and a rat
destroy!
Alas! for those who follow such pernicious teachings! Let us pity and
pray for them, and more than ever cleave to that Gospel which tells us
that "there is only one name given under heaven by which we must be
saved"--"one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus," who
lives in glory, no more to suffer or die, but who is "Jesus of Nazareth"
(Acts xxii. 8), still tender and loving as when He dwelt below, while He
is eternally mighty to "save to the uttermost all that come unto God by
Him."
Oh, that all our hope and confidence may rest on Him--entirely on Him
alone!
THE DIRGE OF AN ENGLISHWOMAN.
And ought the Queen of England's land
A gift to send by Norfolk's hand
To the old Pope of Rome,
His Jubilee to celebrate,
With Popish pomp, in grandest state,
In his Italian home?
Chalice and basin, richly made
Of shining gold; to him conveyed
By one of his trained band.
He used them both at his High Mass,
And proud of such a gift he was
From our dear native land.
Our own Victoria should be free,
True to "the rights" she swore when she
Sat in the abbey old;
And crown was placed upon her head,
And coronation oath she said
Over God's Word, we're told.
Up, English men and women all!
To the red beast[2] ne'er bow at all,
But leave him to his fate;
For Babylon will surely fall,[3]
And with her, nations great and small,
Who follow in her wake.
In days of yore she sat a queen,[4]
On seven hills,[5] so vile, unclean,
And shed the blood of saints.
"Come out of her, My people"[6] all,
Nor of her plagues receive at all,
Or listen to her plaints.
The Ritualists are helping fast
To bring us now, as in times past,
Beneath the sway of Rome.
You silly men and (silly) women[7] all,
Oh, why take heed to them at all
Who creep into the home?[7]
Alas! alas! for England's Queen,
And English nation too, I ween,
If e'er the Pope gets sway!
True Christians ne'er will bend the knee
To kiss Pope's toe so impiously,
Nor pence to Peter pay.
N. P. W.
_Southsea._
NOTHING doth more hurt in a State than that cunning men pass for wise.
[2] Revelation xvii. 3.
[3] Revelation xiv. 8.
[4] Revelation xviii. 7.
[5] Revelation xvii. 9.
[6] Revelation xviii. 4.
[7] 2 Timothy iii. 6.
EXPERIENCES IN THE ARCTIC OCEAN.
Captain Adams, of the whaling steamer _Maud_, which lately arrived at
Dundee from Davis Straits, has related a few interesting incidents of
his voyage.
When in Exeter Sound, Captain Adams was informed, by a native, of an
island which was a favourite resort of the walrus, and where the animals
could be often found asleep. He accordingly determined to try and secure
an old specimen, and sent out four boats, with twenty-four men, to
effect a capture. On arriving at the island, a large number of walrus
were seen basking on the shore, and a landing was attempted, with the
result that the colony soon showed their tusks, and made a deliberate
attack on the boats. Ten of the foremost animals had to be shot to
prevent mischief, and after a severe struggle a female walrus was
lassoed. A number of small ropes were then fastened about it, and the
huge animal was, after immense labour, hoisted into an empty boat, to
which it had to be secured, to prevent it smashing the planks. On being
towed to the ship, the boat and the walrus were hoisted on board, and
suitable quarters were then found for it. It is fully eighteen months
old, and Captain Adams is hopeful that it will survive. A young live
bear has also been brought home.
One of the noteworthy incidents of the voyage was the landing of Urio
Etawango (the Esquimaux whom Captain Adams had staying in Dundee over
last winter) at Durban, the residence of his tribe. For several days
previous to the arrival of the _Maud_ off Durban, Urio was moody and
disconsolate, but he did not reveal his mind, so that the crew were
ignorant of his thoughts. The conjecture was, that he was sorry to
return to the rude life of an Inuit, after his experience of civilized
life. When the ship first arrived off Durban, there was a long stretch
of ice running out from the land, and Urio and one of the officers
travelled about fifteen miles, and lighted a fire as a signal to the
tribe of his return. The signal was soon recognized, and ere long the
whole tribe were seen making their way over the ice. Meantime Urio had
returned to the ship, and he was taking a nap in his berth when the news
was communicated to him of the arrival of the tribe, with his wife and
child amongst them. The Inuits are a very impassive race, and it was
amusing to see the cool way in which Urio and his wife shook hands, as
though they had been parted twelve days instead of twelve months. Urio
showed more affection towards his child, with whom he rubbed cheeks in
the manner peculiar to the Inuits. But if the young wife was
undemonstrative at meeting with her husband, she got into transports of
joy at the sight of the numerous presents which friends of her husband
in Dundee had sent out to her. One of these was a pretty melodion, and
the young woman's eyes sparkled when she beheld it. To the astonishment
of the ship's company, she lifted the instrument and played "There is
nae luck aboot the hoose," finishing with "The Keel Row." It was
subsequently ascertained that she had learned to play several tunes on
the concertina whilst resident at the American settlements on Cumberland
Gulf. When the other presents were laid out, the delight of Urio and his
wife and friends was unbounded. Several of the gaudy petticoats were
seized, and the women put them on above their sealskin dresses, being so
fond of display that the most showy articles are always worn outermost.
Owing to the distance of the ship from the shore, only a few of the
lighter presents were removed at that time, but a month later the ship
got near the land, when the remainder of the articles were put ashore
and taken possession of by Urio.
Captain Adams gives the Esquimaux chief the character of an honest,
hard-working, warm-hearted fellow. He proved a good sailor, was beloved
by all the crew, and he was a dead shot while seal-hunting. It is
evident that his experience of civilized life has given him a distaste
for his former mode of life, for he pleaded with Captain Adams to
promise to take himself and his wife and child to Scotland next year.
Captain Adams is of opinion that the whaling at Davis Straits and
Greenland is virtually exhausted. He saw only seventeen whales
throughout the season.
SINGULAR CAUSE OF DEATH.
On Friday, January 13th, Mr. Wynne E. Baxter held an inquiry at the
London Hospital, Whitechapel, respecting the death of Moses Raphael,
aged thirty-two years, a commercial traveller, lately residing at
Bromley-by-Bow, who died on the previous day in the above hospital.
About six weeks previously he complained of pains in his head and also
of shivers, and eventually it was decided to remove him to the hospital.
Until the last few weeks the deceased had been in apparently good
health. He was a wonderful brain-worker, and had kept a set of books
most accurately.
Henry Muir Doyle, house-surgeon, stated that the deceased, on his
admission, appeared drowsy, and complained of a pain in his head. He
continued in that state till the 10th, but at times appeared quite
clear-headed and rational. On the 10th, symptoms of apoplexy appeared,
and deceased expired at twelve o'clock the same night. Witness said
that, since death, he had made a most searching examination of the head
and brain. On opening the former, he discovered an abscess in the brain.
It was about the size of a turkey's egg, and had evidently been there
some time. On removing the abscess, a penholder and nib were found
protruding from the top of the right orbital plate. This had produced
the abscess, and the abscess had caused death. The holder and nib must
have entered the brain by way of the right eye, or through the right
part of the nose. It was probable that they had been in there for a
considerable time, as the bone had grown over them, and it was with
difficulty they were separated. He had examined the eye, but had failed
to detect any injury. It was, however, quite possible for such a thing
to enter beneath the lid of the open eye, and the wound to heal up,
showing no signs of the entry.
The widow of the deceased man was called in, and said that her husband
never mentioned to her anything about being hurt by a pen.
The coroner said that the case was the most extraordinary that had ever
come before him.--_Times._
ANSWER TO BIBLE ENIGMA.
(_Page 41._)
"_The Prince of Peace._"--ISAIAH ix. 6.
T ychicus Colossians iv. 7.
H en Zechariah vi. 14.
E rastus Romans xvi. 23.
P arvaim 2 Chronicles iii. 6.
R immon Joshua xv. 32.
I rijah Jeremiah xxxvii. 14.
N ahum Nahum i. 7.
C arpus 2 Timothy iv. 13.
E lymas Acts xiii. 11.
O uches Exodus xxviii. 11.
F aith Hebrews xi. 6.
P erez-uzzah 2 Samuel vi. 8.
E lisheba Exodus vi. 23.
A bba Romans viii. 15.
C orinthians 1 Corinthians vi. 19.
E n-hakkore Judges xv. 19.
JOHN WEST
(Aged 9 years).
_Biggleswade._
SOMETHING ABOUT FOXES.
That always entertaining writer about birds and animals, J. G. Wood, has
a pleasant paper on "Foxes" in the _Child's Pictorial_. The author of
"Homes without Hands" says:--
Many foxes have been known to climb trees, and hide among the branches,
where no dog could smell them. Only a few months before these lines were
written, the East Kent foxhounds met near Dover. The master of the hunt
had been told that foxes had been seen to run up a tree, which was
pointed out. A man was sent up the tree, and out came a fox, which was
hidden among some ivy about twenty feet from the ground. The animal was
chased, but after a while the scent failed and the fox escaped. The hunt
then returned to the tree, and again sent a man up it. Presently a
second fox came tumbling out of the ivy, but mistook his distance, and
jumped into the middle of the hounds, which tore it to pieces before it
could recover from the fall. The man continued to search the tree, and a
third fox leaped out, and was killed close to the South Foreland.
In December, 1885, a fox was found near Oswestry, and after being chased
for some time, it ran up a tree, to the height of at least forty feet,
and hid itself among the ivy with which the tree was clothed. It was
soon turned out of its shelter, and, after running for about half an
hour, got away from the hounds, probably by some equally clever trick.
There are foxes known which have been hunted for several seasons and
never taken; and those who have seen them run, say that the animals do
not seem in the least afraid of the hounds, but trot on quite gently for
some time, knowing that, in the end, they will give their enemies the
slip.
Mr. Webster relates an amusing story about a cunning old American fox.
It had been chased over and over again, and always escaped near the same
place, namely, a wooden fence outside a plantation, which led into a
thick forest. Hounds were brought from great distances in order to catch
this fox, but never succeeded. The fox always made its bed in the middle
of a large field, and did not try to hide, but gave the hounds a good
run, and then disappeared at the fence.