with comfort to her mind, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." I
said, "If the Lord has given you those words, He will, in His own time,
bless you with pardon and peace"; and, as she was drawing near her end,
I said, "When He comes, if you are unable to speak, raise your hand."
But the next day the Lord was pleased to bless her soul with joy and
peace. She called for her mother, and when she came, she said, her face
at the time beaming with joy, "Oh, mother, I am so happy! I am going
home to be with Jesus! He has put away all my sins by His own precious
blood, and you will come, too." She would have us sing some hymns,
herself joining in while able--among others, "How sweet the name of
Jesus sounds," and "Rock of Ages." When we had finished one she named
another, and said, "Beautiful! beautiful!"
She gradually sank, but the fear of death was taken away. She was quite
conscious to the last, and turned her head to look at the clock several
times. The enemy of souls was not permitted to harass her in her last
hours, and just before she breathed her last, she raised her arms and
clapped her hands three times, evidently remembering what I had said to
her. It may be truly said, she died in peace. She was a constant reader
of the LITTLE GLEANER.
C. G.
TO lay the salve of our services upon the wound of our sins is as if a
man who is stung by a wasp should wipe his face with a nettle.
ROME PROPOSES, GOD DISPOSES.
"_For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,
saith the Lord._"--ISAIAH lv. 8.
Father Chiniquy had been for some years lecturing on teetotalism, in
addition to his usual priestly labours, and his success had been so
great that he had received the title of "Apostle of Temperance" in
Canada, and the gift of a splendid medal and crucifix from the Pope of
Rome; and his reputation as a popular influential priest was therefore
well established, when he was requested to become the leader of a great
movement.
Emigrants were constantly leaving Europe and Canada for the United
States, and many of them became connected, on their arrival there, with
Protestant associations. Some far-seeing bishops consequently felt that,
if they could divert that tide to places of their own choosing, under
the direction of their own loyal priests, a splendid triumph would be
gained for Popery, and in the course of time they would secretly, yet
surely, rule the United States of America.
Some small colonies had been already formed, and the whole of the
Mississippi valley and the adjoining country was so fertile and rich,
even in its wild state, that Chiniquy's warmest hopes were kindled, as
he saw that beautiful land; and, sitting down, he wrote a glowing
description of it, and invited intending emigrants to come and see for
themselves. The result exceeded all anticipations. In a very short time
fifty families arrived at the chosen spot, and pitched their tents
around his own. They soon set to work to build small, strong wooden
houses under their priest's directions, then a larger one for a
parsonage and school; and, as fresh emigrants were continually arriving,
they soon became a flourishing, happy community, and objects of the
bitter jealousy of surrounding priests. Many difficulties arose. When
his wooden church was just finished, it was maliciously set on fire the
very night after the first services were conducted in it. A new bishop
came into power, whose tyranny and greediness were unbearable, and
Father Chiniquy appealed against him to Napoleon, the French Emperor,
and the Pope, getting him at length removed from the position he had so
greatly abused.
But the crowning difficulty, which was designed by God to be the
crowning blessing of His servant's life, was yet to come, and thus it
came to pass that the Bible-loving priest forsook his false position,
and "came out of Babylon."
When Rome's new doctrine, the perfect holiness of the Virgin Mary, was
first published in 1854, a farmer called on Chiniquy to ask him whether
the Scriptures taught such a thing, and he honestly confessed that they
did not, but rather said the opposite, and that the holy fathers had not
believed or taught it either, but it was with the greatest pain that he,
as a priest, said this.
On another occasion, the immoral conduct of a priest caused many to ask
our friend whether the Word of God really forbade the ministers of
Christ to marry, and he replied, "I will put the Gospel in your hands,
that you may see for yourselves what the Holy Book says about these
matters." He accordingly ordered a large number of New Testaments, which
had been printed by the sanction of one of their own archbishops, and
soon they were being eagerly read and studied by his large congregation.
And now the decisive hour drew near. Another bishop, who had taken the
oppressor's place, kindly asked and accepted Chiniquy's submission to
his authority. But, as that document contained the words, "According to
the Word and commandments of God, as we find them expressed in the
Gospel of Christ," the Jesuits found fault. The bishop demanded the
withdrawal of the words, and upon his refusal to alter them, angrily
said, "If it be so, sir, you are no longer a Roman Catholic priest."
"May God Almighty be for ever blessed," was the brave reply, given in a
loud, determined voice.
But the wrench was a terrible one, and when alone in his hotel, the full
consequences of his words came forcibly before him, and he felt alone
and desolate. But God, who had thus mysteriously led him into liberty,
did not forsake him now. He spoke to his heart, and confirmed him in the
determination he had made; and when all his sins seemed like a mountain
to rise before him, Jesus appeared as his perfect, all-sufficient
Saviour, and the troubled heart was filled with joy unspeakable, so that
he could and did exclaim, "O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt
His name together!" as he hastened home to tell his dear people all that
he had experienced of the wrath of man and the love of God.
May we, with him, be favoured to "taste and see that the Lord is good,"
and we also shall say, "O Lord God of Hosts, blessed is the man that
trusteth in Thee!"--_Jottings on "The Life and Work of Father Chiniquy,"
by Cousin Susan._
HOW TO SELECT A BOY.
A gentleman advertised for a boy, and nearly fifty applicants presented
themselves to him. Out of the whole number he selected one, and
dismissed the rest.
"I should like to know," said a friend, "on what ground you selected
that boy, who had not a single recommendation."
"You are mistaken," said the gentleman; "he has a great many. He wiped
his feet when he came in, and closed the door after him, showing that he
was careful. He gave his seat instantly to that lame old man, showing
that he was thoughtful. He took off his cap when he came in, and
answered my questions promptly, showing that he was gentlemanly. He
picked up the book which I had purposely laid on the floor, and replaced
it upon the table; and he waited quietly for his turn, instead of
pushing and crowding, showing that he was honourable and orderly. When I
talked to him, I noticed that his clothes were brushed, his hair in
order. When he wrote his name, I noticed that his finger-nails were
clean. Don't you call those things letters of recommendation? I do; and
I would give more for what I can tell about a boy by using my eyes ten
minutes than all the letters he can bring me."
Little things show character, and frequently determine a boy's whole
career. It is the boy who does the kind, polite, and thoughtful acts
unconsciously that wins his way to employment and success. And success
does not mean wealth and fame. A man is valued according to his
faithfulness and reliability, and these chiefly determine the measure of
his true usefulness.
It is not always those who are most conspicuous in the eyes of the world
who are really the most useful. A man who takes money at a ferry gate is
seen by thousands, but he only does what any one of a thousand could do
equally well; while a thoughtful and conscientious writer, who may be
personally known to very few, may have great influence for good. True
success means the development of a character that is worthy of
example--a character that is honest to every duty, faithful to every
trust, and that is unselfish enough to find time for kindly acts that
are not forced, but the simple expression of a warm and generous
principle. True success is fidelity to every relation in life.
"NOTHING TO THANK GOD FOR."
"Have you nothing to thank God for?" asked the mother of a little girl
named Helen.
"No," said Helen; "you and papa give me everything."
"Not for your pleasant home?" asked mother.
"It is my papa's house; he lets me live in it."
"Where did the wood come from to build it?" asked mother.
"From trees," answered Helen, "and they growed in big forests."
"Who planted the big forests? Who gave rain to water them? Who gave the
sun to warm them? Who did not allow the winter to blast them? Who kept
them growing from little trees to trees big enough to build houses with?
Not papa, not man; it was God."
Helen looked her mother in the eye, and then said, "Papa bought nails to
make it with."
"What are nails made of?" asked mamma.
"Iron," answered Helen; "and men dig iron out of the ground."
"Who put iron in the ground, and kept it there safe till the men wanted
it?" asked mother. "It was God."
"We got this carpet from men," said Helen, drawing her small foot across
it.
"Where did the carpet-men get the wool to make it from?" asked mother.
"From farmers," answered Helen.
"And where did the farmers get it?"
"From sheep and lambs' backs," said the little girl.
"And who clothed the lambs in dresses good enough for us? for your
dress, I see, is made of nothing but lambs' wool. Where did the lambs
get such good stuff?"
"God gave it to them, I suppose," said the little girl. "It is you that
gives me bread, mother," said she quickly.
"But," said her mother, "the flour we got from the shop, and the
shopkeeper bought it from the miller, and the miller took the wheat from
the farmer, and the farmer had it from the ground, and the ground grew
it all itself."
"No," cried Helen suddenly, "God grew it. The sun and the rain, the wind
and the air, are His, and He sent them to the corn-field. The earth is
His too. And so God is at the bottom of everything, isn't He, mother?"
"Yes," said mother; "God is the Origin of every good and perfect gift
which we enjoy."
The little girl looked serious. She looked thinking. "Then, mamma," she
said at last, "I can't make a prayer long enough to thank God for
everything."
"Oh, that men," even as the creatures of God, "would praise the Lord for
His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!"
A CINGALESE ROCK FORTRESS.
For the first time for a number of years the Sigiri Rock in Ceylon has
been scaled by a European, the feat on this occasion being performed by
General Lennox, who commands the troops in the island. It is said,
indeed, that only one European, Mr. Creasy, ever succeeded in reaching
the summit. The rock is cylindrical in shape, and the bulging sides
render the ascent very difficult and dangerous. There are galleries all
round, a groove about four inches deep being cut in the solid rock. This
rises spirally, and in it are fixed the foundation bricks, which support
a platform about six feet broad, with a chunam-coated wall about nine
feet high. The whole structure follows the curves and contours of the
solid rock, and is cunningly constructed so as to make the most of any
natural support the formation can afford. In some places the gallery
has fallen completely away, but it still exhibits flights of fine marble
steps. High up on the rock are several figures of Buddha; but it is a
mystery how the artist got there, or how, being there, he was able to
carry on his work. The fortifications consist of platforms, one above
the other, supported by massive retaining walls, each commanding the
other.
Owing to the falling away of the gallery, the ascent in parts had to be
made up a perpendicular face of the cliff, and General Lennox and four
natives were left to do the latter part of the ascent alone. The top
they found to be a plateau about an acre in extent, in which were two
square tanks, with sides thirty yards and fifteen feet respectively in
length, cut out of the solid rock. A palace is believed to have existed
on the summit at one time, although time, weather, and the jungle have
obliterated all traces of it. During the descent the first comer had to
guide the foot of the next into a safe fissure, but all reached the
bottom safely after two and a half hours.
It is said that the amount of work expended on the galleries is
incredible, and the writer of the account of the feat doubts if all the
machinery of modern times could accomplish the stupendous work that was
achieved here in old days by manual labour alone.
A QUEER FISHERMAN.
Monkeys and apes are (remarks a writer in _Harper's Young People_)
always amusing creatures, and it is great fun to watch their tricks. But
there is one ape, a native of the island of Java, who outdoes most of
his relatives in the way of being ridiculous, especially when he amuses
himself as a fisherman. This ape is very fond of shellfish, and there is
a certain kind of sand-crab that suits his palate exactly. These crabs
dig little homes for themselves deep in the sand, and thither they
retire when they want a quiet rest, or when any danger threatens. When
all is well, they spend their time sunning themselves at the entrance of
their holes, or hopping along the water's edge in search of food. The
apes know their ways, and while the crabs are looking for a dinner they
also are bent on obtaining one for themselves. Apes, you know, can move
very quickly. They wait until they see a party of crabs apparently
unconscious of danger, and busily engaged in discussing a bit of
seaweed, or devouring the insects they are so fond of. Moving stealthily
forward, as close as they dare, the ape gives a sudden leap, and seizes
as many as possible of the poor, unsuspecting crabs, which are speedily
crunched into a shapeless mass by his strong jaws, and devoured. But the
crabs are very active too, and it often happens that they will take
alarm in time to scamper quickly to their holes, and so cheat the ape
out of his anticipated meal. When this occurs, the ape has recourse to a
stratagem which proves how intelligent he really is, and which makes him
appear, as I have said, one of the most amusing and ridiculous of
creatures. The ape of Java, unlike others of his species, possesses a
very long tail. He moves quietly up to the hole into which he has seen
the crab disappear, thrusts his tail into it, and awaits events. The
crab, indignant at such an intrusion, makes a spirited attack, and
fastens upon it. This is precisely what the ape wants. He gives a sudden
spring forward. The crab, having no time to collect his ideas, is drawn
to the surface, and in a moment the ape has him in his claws. Poor crab!
victim of his anxiety to punish the invasion of his home.
One traveller tells us that "there is a comical look of suspense on the
ape's face as he thrusts his tail into the hole, and waits for the crab
to seize it."
SAVED BY GRACE.
Agreeably to your wishes, I send you the following account of W. B----,
who had lived a dissolute life for nearly forty years.
He was notorious for drinking and Sabbath-breaking, and his general
deportment was so abandoned that he was wicked even to a proverb.
On Saturday evening, March 4th, he attended a funeral, and from the
place of interment he immediately betook himself to a public house,
where he became so intoxicated that it was with some difficulty he
reached his own habitation. No sooner was he laid down upon the bed, and
composed to sleep, than the words of Eliphaz were verified in his
experience--"In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep
falleth upon man, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my
bones to shake," for he dreamed a frightful dream. He thought he saw a
serpent of the hydra kind, with nine heads, ready to seize him. Whatever
way he turned, a head presented itself, nor could he, by all the methods
he devised, extricate himself from the baneful monster. He awoke in
great distress. Though it was but a dream, it made a strong impression
upon his mind, and he was afraid it portended some future evil.
The next morning, one of the members of our meeting, as he was going to
the house of God, observed him in a pensive posture, and asked him if he
would go with him and hear a sermon upon the old serpent. The sound of
the word _serpent_ arrested his attention, and excited his curiosity to
hear what I had to say upon such a subject. But for this expression,
probably the poor man had remained unmoved. Why the person used it he
could not tell, nor why he invited him to accompany him that morning--a
thing which he had never done before. But He could tell who, in the days
of His flesh, "must needs go through Samaria," and whose providences are
always in coincidence with the purposes of His grace.
As soon as prayer was ended, I preached from Genesis iii. 13-15, "And
the Lord God said unto the woman, What is this that thou hast done? And
the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat. And the Lord God
said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed
above all cattle," &c.
As I was explaining who that serpent was, and the methods he took to
beguile sinners, the Lord opened the poor man's eyes, and the Word had
free course and was glorified. From that moment he gave every
demonstration of a real change of heart. About four or five months he
continued in the pangs of the new birth. The anguish of his soul was
great indeed. He perceived the number of his sins, and felt the weight
of his guilt. For some time he was tempted to despair--I may say, to put
an end to his existence--but while he was musing on his wretched
condition, these words were applied as a sovereign remedy to his
afflicted soul--"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved." This administered all the joy and comfort he stood in need of.
Now he was enabled to believe that Christ was as willing to forgive as
He was mighty to redeem. The burden of his guilt dropped from his mind,
as Pilgrim's did at the sight of the cross, and immediately he "rejoiced
with joy unspeakable and full of glory."
I was with him a little while after, and with a heart overflowing with
gratitude to God, he showed me the place of his Bethel visit, where the
Lord had opened to him His bleeding heart, and manifested His forgiving
love. He seems to be, as the Apostle expresses it, "a living epistle of
Christ, seen and read of all men."
[Illustration: "ONE OF THE MEMBERS OBSERVED HIM IN A PENSIVE POSTURE."
(_See page 156._)]
TWO BRAVE CHILDREN.
The sky at night in the vicinity of Apple Creek, in Dakota, a few weeks
ago, was red all around the horizon, and the people knew that the
prairie fires were burning. Every evening, as darkness fell, the farmers
saw the glare becoming more and more distinct, and during the day the
smoke increased until it was nearly suffocating.
Not far from Apple Creek is the little village of Sterling, and near
Sterling lived the Stevens family. Mr. Stevens was away from home on the
day that the fire approached the house, and it so happened that his wife
was sick in bed. Their children were a girl of eight years and a boy of
eleven. The boy had heard that it was a good thing to plough a furrow
across the path of the advancing flames, and about noon of the day in
question he tried to protect the property in that manner. With the
two-horse team and plough he cut a trench around the house and sheds,
and then another trench around the stacks of unthreshed wheat. He was
not strong enough to plough the trench to a great depth, but the wide
line of damp earth thrown up would be hard for the flames to leap
across, especially since his little sister followed him around, carrying
away all trash that would add to the fury of the flames.
That night the fire was so near that the poor woman thought of getting
out of bed, with the purpose of attempting to escape, but she was too
ill to try such a thing. Moreover, she knew that if her husband could
reach the house he would come, and she watched and prayed as the light
came to her room from the crimson skies without.
When the flames, running before the wind, came down upon the Stevens'
place, they licked up the fences in an instant, swept away the shocks of
grain in the fields, and then rolled suddenly up to the furrows ploughed
by the boy. The wheat stacks fell a prey, and numberless sparks were
scattered around the house; but the brave boy and his sister ran all
about, trampling out the fire wherever it caught.
The little workers were desperate, for they knew that, should the house
burn, their poor mother would surely perish in her bed. They fought with
brooms, shovels, and water. Wherever they could they dug up fresh earth,
and for a quarter of an hour they did not pause for a single moment.
Once the house caught, and the wood began to add its crackling to the
rush and roar of the vast prairie fire; but the children dashed bucket
after bucket of water upon the burning spot, and so put it out. They
carried the day. The great fire swept past, and in its wake came the
father, half frantic with joy to find that his little hero and heroine
had saved their mother's life.--_Examiner._
A HINT TO BOYS.
If I were a boy again, and knew what I know now, I would not be quite so
positive in my own opinions as I used to be. Boys generally think that
they are very certain about many things. A boy of fifteen is a great
deal more sure of what he thinks he knows than is a man of fifty. You
ask the boy a question, and he will answer you right off, up and down.
He knows all about it. Ask a man of large experience and ripe wisdom the
same question, and he will say, "Well, there is much to be said about
it. I am inclined, on the whole, to think so-and-so, but other
intelligent men think otherwise."
When I was about eight years old, I travelled from Central Massachusetts
to Western New York, crossing the river at Albany, and going by canal to
Syracuse. On the canal-boat a kindly gentleman was talking to me one
day, and I mentioned the fact that I had crossed the Connecticut River
at Albany. How I got it into my head that it was the Connecticut River I
do not know, for I knew my geography very well then; but in some
unmistakable way I fixed it in my mind that the river at Albany was the
Connecticut, and I called it so. "Why," said the gentleman, "that is the
Hudson River." "Oh, no, sir," I replied, politely but firmly. "You're
mistaken. That is the Connecticut River." The gentleman smiled and said
no more. In this matter I was perfectly sure that I was right, and so I
thought it my duty to correct the gentleman's geography. I felt rather
sorry for him that he should be so ignorant.
One day, a short time after I reached home, I happened to be looking
over my route on the map, and lo! there was Albany standing on the
Hudson River, a hundred miles from the Connecticut. Then I did not feel
half so sorry for the gentleman's ignorance as I did for my own. I never
told anybody that story until I wrote it down on these pages the other
day, but I have thought of it a thousand times, and always with a blush
for my boldness. Nor was it the only time that I was perfectly sure of
things that were not really so. It is hard for a boy to learn that he
may be mistaken; but, unless he is a dunce, he learns it after a while.
The sooner he finds it out the better for him.
W. G.
DIVINE GUIDANCE.
In the life of Mary Pryor, well known among the Quakers a hundred years
ago, the following incident occurred on the occasion of her visit to the
Quakers in America.
She visited several of the best ships of the period, but did not feel
easy to take her passage in any of them. At length, on sitting down in
an inferior vessel, called the _Fame_, she said she felt "so
comfortable" that she must go in that ship. Her friends endeavoured to
dissuade her, one of them saying he would not trust his dog in it. But
having sought the Lord's direction, she saw no light on any change of
plan, and she set sail in the _Fame_. She was now sixty years of age.