commemorate the heroic deed of a young surgeon, William Conner, medical
officer, who lost his life in a noble and daring effort to save a poor
patient who had undergone the operation of tracheotomy while suffering
from diphtheria. A false membrane having formed in the throat, and the
patient being in imminent danger of his life, young Conner applied his
lips to the throat tube, and succeeded in removing the obstruction. The
window is in three panels, representing incidents from the parable of
the Good Samaritan, and healing the sick, and it will be inscribed, "To
the glory of God, and in affectionate remembrance of William Conner, who
was born May 7th, 1851, and died July 4th, 1887."
A GREAT LOG RAFT.--Not satisfied with the former experiment and
catastrophe, the Nova Scotians are putting together another huge log
raft, to be floated to New York in July or August of this year. This
raft will be 650 feet long, and will have six masts, and a great spread
of sail. Confidence seems to be placed in the usual fine weather of July
and August; but storms are by no means unknown over the course that the
raft will traverse; and should this huge area of floating timber
encounter a storm, the chains which will hold the logs together will
snap like packing-cord, and leave the crew to shift for their lives in
their boats, or by endeavouring to cling to their logs. These
experiments, like attempts to swim the rapids of Niagara, should be
prevented by some law or regulations, since the common sense of those
concerned is conspicuous by its absence. It is quite possible that the
raft may be favoured by fine weather, and reach its destination
successfully; but it is true, nevertheless, that the enterprise is
hare-brained, and undertaken at great risk of life and property.
GREAT STORM AT MADAGASCAR.--Particulars have been received, _via_ the
Cape of Good Hope, of a terrific hurricane which raged at Tamatave on
February 22nd, which will long be remembered by the inhabitants as one
of the most disastrous storms that have visited the island during this
century. Eleven vessels at anchor in the harbour were totally wrecked.
Some of them foundered at their anchors, others parted their cables, and
were driven on the reefs. The damage done to the town was very great.
Not a house escaped more or less destruction, numbers of them being
utterly swept away. The British Consulate, a large new building, only
erected some months ago by the British Government, was almost totally
destroyed. Large fragments of this building were carried by the wind for
hundreds of yards, and for acres around the ground presented an
extraordinary and melancholy spectacle, being strewn with doors,
windows, beams, and other pieces of twisted wood and iron, besides
clothes and furniture. The Consul's wife, Mrs. Haggard (the Consul
himself was at Mauritius), and those in the Consulate had a narrow
escape with their lives. Most of the trees were blown down, and all were
smashed to pieces. Several lives were lost on shore in addition to those
drowned, but their numbers were few in comparison to the almost
incredible damage done in so short a time, the hurricane only lasting
seven hours. A remarkable circumstance in connection with the hurricane
is, that it was not felt forty miles to the northward of Tamatave, nor
its full strength sixty miles south.
THE CHINESE ALMANACK.--The great value which the Chinese attach to their
almanack is shown in many ways. Recently the Chinese residents at
Lhassa, in Thibet, implored the Emperor to cause arrangements to be made
which would enable them to receive their copies of the almanack at the
earliest possible date in each year. A writer in a recent issue of the
_Chinese Recorder_ says that the most important book to the Chinese is
the almanack. Its space is far too important to be occupied with the
matter which fills Western almanacks. It contains astronomical
information, which is useful; but its great mission is to give full and
accurate information for selecting lucky places for performing all the
acts, great and small, of every-day life. "And as every act of life,
however trivial, depends for its success on the time in which, and the
direction (_i.e._, the point of the compass) towards which it is done,
it is of the utmost importance that every one should have correct
information available at all times, to enable him to so order his life
as to avoid bad luck and calamity, and secure good luck and prosperity.
Consequently, the almanack is perhaps the most universally circulated
book in China." The writer speaks of it as a terrible yoke of bondage.
It is issued by the Government, and the sale of all almanacks but the
authorized one is prohibited. Quite recently the new Chinese Minister to
Germany refused to sail for his post on a day which the almanack
declared to be unlucky, and the departure of the German mail steamer was
consequently deferred at the request of the German minister to
Pekin.--[What a pity but these poor deluded creatures were blessed with
Bible truth and Jesus' grace!--ED.]
[Illustration: "A TROOP OF DRAGOONS CAME UP AT FULL GALLOP." (_See page
146._)]
THE COVENANTER'S ESCAPE AND DEATH.
On the 16th of April, 1685, Peden made a narrow escape. Being then at
the house of John Nisbet, of Hardhill, a little before nine o'clock in
the morning, a troop of dragoons were observed by the servants, who were
working in the fields, coming up to the house at full gallop, upon which
the servants ran to conceal themselves. Peden, and those who were with
him in the house, had fled for shelter to a moss nearly two miles
distant from the place where the servants were working.
The way to this moss was by a very steep ground, and at the edge of the
moss there was a morass about seven or eight yards broad, and altogether
the place was well adapted for concealment, as well as for protection
from military on horseback. Here, however, Peden and his companions were
discovered. James, the son of John Nisbet, a young man about sixteen
years of age, had been with the servants in the field when the troop of
dragoons came up, and in his flight, being chased by some of the party,
made his way accidentally to where Peden and about twenty more were
lurking, which occasioned their being discovered. The whole party of
dragoons were quickly informed of the prize within their reach, and
about three hours after, they were joined by another party who aided
them in the pursuit. Peden and his friends, observing the enemy
dismounting their horses to take the moss on their feet, for the purpose
of securing them, after some firing on both sides without effect, drew
off, and kept in the midst of the moss. When the dragoons, on seeing
this, mounted their horses again, and pursued by the side of the moss,
the Covenanters always kept themselves on such ground as the horses
could not approach.
They were pursued during the whole of that day, and ran about thirty
miles without receiving any refreshment but moss-water till night, when
they got a little milk. Peden then left his friends, and went away by
himself.
During this year, and especially the first part of it, great numbers of
the persecuted witnesses were murdered in the fields. Peden, therefore,
to escape the hands of the military, after this wandered from one
lurking-place to another; and from his minute acquaintance with all the
tracts and haunts of the desert, of which he may be said for years to
have been an inhabitant, he succeeded in eluding the enemy.
In such circumstances, we need not wonder that he was sometimes weary of
life, and envied his fellow-sufferers who had gone to death before him,
and were eternally at rest. At length, Peden's bodily infirmities
increasing so much as to render him unable to travel, being almost worn
out with fatigue, and suffering from the many hardships he had
undergone, he arrived at his native parish of Sorn. He came to his
brother's house, in the neighbourhood of which he caused a cave to be
dug, with a willow bush covering its mouth. His persecutors getting
information where he was, searched every part of the house on many
occasions.
At last, one day, early in the morning, leaving the cave, he came to the
door of the house. His brother's wife warned him of his danger, advising
him to return to his place of concealment. He told her it was needless
to do that, since it was discovered.
"But," said he, "there is no matter, for within forty-eight hours I will
be beyond the reach of all the devil's temptations, and his instruments
in hell and on earth, and they shall trouble me no more."
He had not been in the house above three hours when a party of soldiers
visited the cave, and not finding him there, they searched first the
barn, and next the house, stabbing the beds, but they did not enter the
place where he lay.
Peden died on the 28th of January, 1686, being upwards of sixty years of
age, and was privately buried in the church of Auchinleck, in the aisle
of David Boswell, Esq., of Auchinleck. But his ashes were not allowed to
repose in peace. Though he had never been condemned by any jury, yet the
enemy, being informed of his death and burial, sent a troop of dragoons,
who pulled his corpse out of the grave after it had lain about six
weeks, and having first broken the chest, exposed his remains to
contempt, and then carried them to the gallows foot at Cumnock, two
miles distant, and there buried them. The design of the soldiers in
lifting the body was to hang it in chains upon the gallows at Cumnock,
but this they were prevented from doing. The Countess of Dumfries and
the Lady Affleck, shocked at this barbarity, earnestly interceded that
the body might be again buried; and when the savage commander of the
dragoons, determined to have it hung in chains, proved unrelenting, they
applied to the Earl of Dumfries, a Privy Councillor, then at home, who,
yielding to their request, went to the gibbet and told Murray that it
was erected for malefactors and murderers, and not for such men as Mr.
Peden. The corpse was accordingly reinterred at the foot of the gibbet,
now within the wall of the common burial-ground of Cumnock parish, and a
suitable memorial erected over the remains, on which was inscribed an
appropriate epitaph.
A DAY'S WORK.
The amount of work some people get through is simply enormous. Few
people are harder worked than a London physician in active practice. We
know a doctor who seldom gets more than four hours' sleep out of the
twenty-four. He says that it is not that he couldn't do with more, but
it is as much as he can get. Many busy men are constantly at work of
some kind or the other from eight in the morning till past twelve at
night. Some, of course, break down, but others can do this year after
year, apparently without any detriment to their health. Instances are
known of professional men who have not slept for five days together, and
who have not been in bed for three weeks at a time. These sound almost
like travellers' tales, but they are true, although, of course, they are
exceptional cases. It is astonishing what interest and energy will do in
enabling a man to dispense with rest. It has been said that the
twenty-four hours might be advantageously divided into three equal
parts--eight hours for sleep, eight for meals, exercise, recreation,
&c., and eight for mental work. Few men really require more than eight
hours' sleep, but the majority of us have to do considerably more than
eight hours' work in the day. It is not so much that a man wishes for
the work, as that it is forced upon him. He, perhaps, is the only person
who can perform a certain duty, and when, as is often the case, it is a
question of life and death, it is almost impossible to refuse. Many
people can never force themselves to do more than a certain amount of
mental work; they get nervous and headachy, and then it is all over with
them. Forced work, as a rule, tells on a man much more rapidly than
purely voluntary work, for in the former case it is usually associated
with anxiety. Real overwork gives rise to loss of memory, a general
sense of fatigue, and particularly of discomfort about the head,
poorness of appetite, lowness of spirits, and other similar symptoms. It
is worry that injures more than real work. Some people are so happily
constituted that they never worry much about anything, whilst others are
in a fever of anxiety on every trivial occasion.--_The Family
Physician._
JUVENILE GEMS.
(_Concluded from page 130._)
ANN JANE.
My dear Ann Jane was an affectionate child, but naturally timid, and
frequently expressed a hope that she should not be taken ill. Yet she
too was destined to be borne far, far away.
On November 12th, 1851, it pleased God to indicate His intentions by
placing upon her His afflicting hand. But He who "mingles mercy with His
might," set His bow in the cloud, answered in the secret place of
thunder, and revealed His love in the bosom of the storm.
Ann Jane gave pleasing proofs of a work of grace in her soul, the
progress of which was visible to by-standers and friends.
A short time after the attack, she expressed a wish to die; and upon
being asked why, she answered, "Because I believe I shall go to heaven.
I believe the dear Lord has pardoned my sins." She would often say,
"Pray for me, my dear mother, and I will pray for you, and myself too";
and would then address herself to God in a sweet, devout manner.
Observing me to be in great trouble, she thus spoke to me--"Do pray the
dear Lord to take me to Himself." I answered, "How can I do so, seeing I
cannot give you up?" She replied, "Oh, mother, put your trust in the
Lord. He will provide. Do ask Him to take me out of this world. Oh,
mother, there is nothing here worth living for"; and engaging sweetly in
prayer, uttered, with many other sentences, the following--"Pardon all
our sins, dear and precious Lord--past sins, present sins, and sins to
come. Wash us in Thy precious blood, for Thou knowest how sinful we are,
and Thou rememberest we are but dust. Oh, make us love Thee more! Thy
love is an everlasting love. Take us, dear Lord, take us to Thyself, and
then we shall love and serve Thee better."
The second Lord's Day of her affliction, she inquired what day it was. I
informed her, and asked, "Would you not like to spend a Sabbath in
heaven?" "Oh, yes, mother!" was the rejoinder. "That would be a Sabbath
of Sabbaths."
With pleasure I remember some particular times when my precious child
seemed almost overpowered by the sweetness and glories of Immanuel, who
is "God with us," not only in our nature, but in our condition. At these
times, with uplifted hands, she would exclaim, "Oh, my precious Jesus!
Oh, my precious Christ!"
One day she said, "Mother, my pains are very great. Can you do anything
to give me relief?" What an appeal to maternal tenderness! What a moment
of agonizing weakness! I reminded her of the divine sufficiency, and she
poured out a copious argumentative prayer, not like the prayer of a
child, pleading the Lord's own Word, and the merits of Christ, as the
only ground of her expectation. "I know," she would say, "I am not
worthy. I am a guilty sinner. Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood! Give me
patience to endure my pains, and to wait all Thy will; and take me to be
where Thou art, for ever and ever. Amen."
Seeing me weep very much, on one occasion, she exclaimed, "My precious
mother, I do love you! Why do you grieve about me? I am not afraid to
die. I want to go to my precious Lord, and be with Him for ever." I
said, "My dear child, why do you believe you shall go to heaven? Do you
think you have _merited_ it?" "Oh, no, mother," was her immediate reply.
"I am a guilty sinner. It is through the Lord Jesus, and for His sake,
that I hope to be saved. Do you not think, dear mother, He will pardon
me?" I said, "Yes, if you feel your need of Him." She answered, "I
believe He has pardoned me."
After the prayer previously mentioned, and partly recorded, she said,
"How good the Lord is to me! Oh, my precious Jesus," &c. "Oh, mother,"
she said, in reply to a question, "I know I love the Lord. Yes, I do;
better than everything else in the world."
At another time she cried out, in a loud impressive tone, "Oh, mother,
what is there in this world worth living for? It is all stuff and
vanity--it is, mother. Oh, I do not want to live here! Pray the dear
Lord to take me to Himself. Oh, how blessed to be with my precious Jesus
for ever!"
When informed of the death and burial of her brother, she appeared
excited, but at last said, "Dear boy! I hope I shall soon be with him,
and then we shall meet to part no more." She then asked me to pray again
that God would take her. How could I? "Nature has soft but powerful
bands," and the ligaments were not yet severed. She seemed my earthly
all. Could I surrender her to the arms of the destroyer? Could I look up
and say, "Thy will be done"? What grace we need to glorify God in the
fires!
Nine days after her illness she raised herself up in her bed, and,
looking at her departing sister, said, "There is my dying sister. Where
is she going? Where? Why, to the realms of bliss? And who of us next?
Why, myself, I believe, mother. But I am not afraid of death," &c.
At another time she said, "Do read to me, dear mother"; and upon my
asking her _where_, she replied, "Read about the sufferings of Christ" I
did so, and she afterwards engaged in prayer.
At another time the nurse heard her, during the night, earnestly praying
for both her parents and herself.
Once she requested me to read the seventeenth chapter of John, remarking
at the time, "That is sweet reading." After listening for a time she
fell into a short sleep, and I laid the Book down. When she awoke she
exclaimed, "Won't you read to me, my dear mother?" I said, "You dropped
off into a sleep, my dear." She then tried to read herself, but failing,
returned the Book, immediately adding, "Give it me again and let me kiss
it, for I love it very much."
At different times she expressed earnest desires to go to her brother
and sister, and for her father and mother and sister to go also; and
would try to sing a part of that Sabbath School hymn, chorusing--"Oh,
that will be joyful," &c.
Two days before she died she exclaimed, with sweet simplicity, "Suffer
the little children to come unto Me"; and shortly after, "Precious
Bible! what a treasure," &c.
The night on which she died, a friend coming in, she seemed pleased,
remarking that I could then take some rest. Shortly after this her voice
began to fail. She called for "Hephzibah," looked at me wishfully,
exclaimed, "Mother," and talked earnestly for some time; but her voice
was "thick in death," and language failed as an interpreter of "the
thoughts and intents of the heart." In vain she laboured to make me
comprehend her ideas. The bridge had been broken down; the fortress was
dismantled. Only a word or two was distinct enough to be understood, but
from these I found her discourse was of a spiritual nature. Overcome by
the scene, I burst into tears, and said, "My dear child, how I wish I
could understand you! It almost breaks my heart." At this she looked at
me so very affectionately, and exclaimed, "Heaven! heaven! heaven!"
She spoke not again, but for twelve long hours "her spirit struggled
with her clay," when the conflict mercifully ceased, and all was peace,
and righteousness, and quietness, and assurance for ever. She exchanged
worlds on December 14th, 1851, aged eleven years and three months.
"May death conclude my toils and tears;
May death conclude my sins and fears;
May death, through Jesus, be my Friend;
May death be life when life shall end!"
Thus ends the interesting memoirs of three happy children; and as
reflection should follow reading, we proceed from narrative to
reflections.
REFLECTIONS.
1. From these memoirs we learn how greatly the Lord sometimes tries the
righteous. In little more than a fortnight, three out of four children
were borne to their long home. The father had been previously afflicted
with paralysis, and was at that time unable to follow his employment,
having lamed himself.
2. We learn that human affliction may consist with divine affection.
Lazarus sickened and died, though Jesus loved him. "And what son is
there whom the Father chasteneth not?"
3. We have another lesson upon the inscrutable providence of God. "I
beheld," says Solomon, "all the works of God, that a man cannot find out
the work that is done under the sun; because, though a man labour to
seek it out, yet shall he not find it; yea, further, though a wise man
think to know it, yet shall he not find it." No man knoweth divine love
or hatred by the distributions of providential good and evil.
4. But if the events of life are so complicated, and if no application,
however skilfully conducted, nor any human capacity, whatever its range,
can fathom the "mysteries of God," then, how unseemly is immoderate
grief or unmeasured joy! How premature our decisions, and how utterly
senseless all those infidel cavils against a system which the most
enlightened, philosophical, and Spirit-taught mind can neither
understand nor deal with!
5. Nevertheless, we read that "the righteous, and the wise, and their
works, are in the hand of God" (Eccles. ix. 1), from which we conclude
that the people of God, wherever located, and however circumstanced, are
protected by His power, sustained by His agency, supplied by His mercy,
are under His special care, and safe in His approbation. Let this
suffice. We walk by faith.
6. We see here the sovereignty of God, both in His providence and grace.
We read of one being taken and another left; but here three are taken,
and only one left.
7. Does not God, sometimes, put peculiar honour upon His professing
people, however He sees fit to try them? If He takes one of a Gentile
city, He takes two of a Christian family, and brings them to Zion.
8. We observe, too, the earliness and efficacy of His work on the minds
of some, so that "out of the mouths of babes and sucklings He perfects
His own praise."
9. Attention, however, may be called to the value of early and maternal
instruction. These children were instructed for the most part by their
mother, who watched over them with incessant care, keeping them separate
from the masses, and attending to their education as an important duty.
"There is not a grand inspiring thought,
There is not a truth by wisdom taught,
There is not a feeling pure or high,
That may not be read in a mother's eye.
"There are teachings on earth, and sky, and air;
The heavens the glory of God declare;
But more loud than the voice beneath, above,
Is the voice that speaks through a mother's love."
W. P.
BROUGHT TO THE FOLD.
Louisa Ann Jeeves, of Pewsey, Wilts, died on March 24th, 1888, aged
twenty-four years. She sat under the truth until she was about twenty,
when she left the place for a short time. But, when taken seriously ill,
it appears that the Lord laid the weight of her sins upon her, and she
felt that she had slighted the means of truth, which was a trouble to
her. The clergyman called, and wished to administer the Sacrament to
her, but she refused, and told him she dare not, for she had not felt
the pardon of her sins. From this time she sank very low, and felt her
sins to be a heavy burden. She now eagerly read her Bible, in which she
marked many portions. Her bodily sufferings were very great, but she
bore them without a murmur. Her sins, and the state of her soul before
God, seemed always uppermost.
I had known her from a child, and hoped there was some good thing in
her; but when she left the place of truth, I was afraid my hope was
vain.
I visited her often after my return to Pewsey, and found her in great
concern about her soul. She said she knew that nothing but an
application of the blood of Christ could suffice for her great sins, and
this she longed to feel. She asked me to read and pray with her, which I
was enabled to do, believing the Lord had given her true conviction of
sin. Each time I called she was greatly distressed, and seemed without
hope; and this went on until the last week of her life, when she begged
me to stay with her altogether, and whenever we were alone she wished me
to read and pray. She would cry out in agony, "Oh, what shall I do if I
don't get to heaven?"