After this the Child would often stand gazing out over the sea or into
the heavens. He felt as if he were always on the point of finding
something, yet all his seeking was full of hope and without disquiet;
for after that dream he never doubted that one day he should learn the
words of the Song.
One morning, as he was looking out over the sea, watching the dimpling
and sparkling of the laughing waves, and dreaming about his dream, he
descried something dark rising and falling on the waters. As he watched
it, it came nearer, and he perceived that it was a little round wooden
box; and to his great delight he saw that the advancing tide would soon
lay it at his feet. He could not wait until it reached the dry beach,
but plashed through the waves, caught it in his arms, and carried it in
triumph to the shingly ridge above the sands. There he seated himself to
examine his treasure: he could not help in some way connecting it with
his dream; he thought the sweet Singers must have sent it him from the
sky. The little box had something of the shape of the shells of his
friends of the sabella family, and it sounded hollow, but it was closed
at both ends with a flat piece of wood. At first he could find no way of
opening it; so he began to admire the beautiful flowers and fruits and
leaves which were carved in wreaths and garlands round the tube. The
fruits and flowers were strange to the Child, and he wondered if they
were like those which grew in the home of the sweet Singers.
At length as he turned the tube over and over a little muffled voice
came to him from inside and said, "Put me into the sea again until
to-morrow morning, and I will open the box for you."
"Who are you?" asked the Child.
"I am a teredo," replied the little muffled voice. "I have been very
busy for some days boring through the hinge of this strange box, and in
a few hours I shall quite have finished my work, if you will throw me
into the sea, so that I may have something to drink; for I can assure
you people who work as hard as I do get very thirsty."
So the Child took the box to his rock-pool, and laid it on a ledge
beneath the water, where he thought it would be safe from being washed
away by the next tide. He could not bear to lose sight of his new
treasure; he did not know what might be inside.
Whilst he was waiting he found the teredo a very amusing companion.
"What do you look like?" he asked.
"My own house is not so large as one of your finger-nails," replied the
teredo; "but I have a long winding passage leading from it to the sea
outside, and through this, however deep I am buried, I keep myself
provided with air and water by means of a long trunk which I possess."
"Do you often bury yourself very deep?" asked the Child.
"We are seldom engaged on such a trifling affair as this," replied the
teredo; "we eat through ships and piers, and piles made of the hard
trunks of oaks."
The Child had no idea of what ships and piers were, and the little busy
creature was quite ready to tell him all she knew; so all day he sat
listening to her stories, which to him were wonderful fairy tales. And
when the darkness came, he tripped joyously up to his cave to sleep away
as fast as he could the night which was to bring the morning when the
strange box would fly open.
But on his little bed he kept wondering what was inside. Was it a
beautiful little living being which was to be his companion? was it a
tiny ship like the great ones the teredo had been talking about, only
made to sail in the air, and to carry him up to where the sweet Singers
lived? So he fell asleep full of happy visions.
The next morning he could scarcely eat his breakfast or say a word to
the flowers, he was so eager to reach the place where his treasure lay,
and see if it were safe. But the sea was still covering the beach, and
it was some time before the waves were curbed in, and ceased to dash
into the rock-pool.
At length the tide drew back, and the Child clambered over the wet rocks
to the pool.
There, safe on the ledge where he had placed it, lay the little carved
tube. He took it carefully out of the water: the little teredo had done
her work well, and in an instant the cover flew open. His heart
fluttered fast as he watched to see what would happen next.
But no living creature sprang out; only a roll of parchments, marked all
over with strange twisted black lines, fell on the rocks. The Child
thrust in his little hand and felt all through the tube, but there was
nothing more within, and he was so disappointed he had scarcely heart to
thank the teredo.
Tears of vexation would fall fast over his face, and at length he hid
his face in his hands and sobbed aloud. His hopes had soared so high!
Soon his sobs subsided into quiet weeping. All the creatures tried to
comfort him; he felt grateful to them, but still they could not dry his
tears.
At length they gave up speaking to him, and through the silence came on
his ear the sound of the old sweet solemn Song. Then the Child thought
of his dream, of the Singers in heaven, and of the loving Voice, and he
looked up on the sparkling sea and the sunny blue sky, and smiled
through his tears. He felt ashamed of having been so cast down, and
quietly took up the roll of parchments from the rocks.
It was traced all over with black figures, delicately and carefully
drawn; but the Child could not see in them anything more than the
delicate traceries he had often observed on the shells and flowers; and
turn it over and gaze on it as he would, he could find nothing in it but
a roll of dead leaves.
Nevertheless he took it with him to his cave (leaving the cover to the
teredo as an acknowledgment of her kindness), and carefully replaced it
in the wooden tube. At all events the little carved basket was
beautiful, and still he could not help linking it with his dream, and
with the heavenly Singers who knew the words of the Song.
_PART II.--THE WORDS OF THE SONG._
CHAPTER I.
That night there was a great storm on the sea. The Child could not sleep
for the tumult. There were thunders and lightnings, and all the winds
seemed drawn up in battle, so that he could not distinguish the thunder
of the clouds from the roar of the winds or the sullen plunges of the
waves as they dashed into the hollows of the rocks, undermining the
cliffs. Yet all this was not half so terrible to the Child as the sound
of human voices like his own, which came to him wailing through the
storm. He rose and stood at the entrance of his cave with his arms
clinging to the trunk of an old tree, and looked out over the sea. Not a
star was to be seen; and if he tried to speak he could scarcely hear his
own voice. Yet through all the roar of the sea and the thunder and the
wild raging of the winds, ever and anon came those plaintive human cries
straight to the Child's heart. Now and then also he caught the gleam of
a light twinkling far out on the waters, but it was extinguished in an
instant, and the darkness looked darker than before. At length the
wailing voices died away, and the gray morning broke over the foaming
waves, and the storm began to lull.
When the day came up, all the sky was calm and bright as if nothing had
happened; but the flowers lay exhausted on the mossy bank; the path into
the wood was strewn with many branches torn from the trees; all the
creatures seemed frightened and cowed by the storm; and the Child sat at
his breakfast in silence and alone. He was half afraid to venture to the
beach: the sea had not forgotten its last night's battles, and as far
out as the Child's eyes could reach, angry waves were tossing their
plumed crests, whilst on the shore they curved their proud necks, and
foamed as if they would have swallowed the earth, dashing their spray
over the tallest cliffs. And to the Child there was something terrible
in the calm sunshine, which smiled down so peacefully on all this
tumult.
Yet there was a kind of wild joy to him in watching the mighty waves. He
stood as close to them as he could, and enjoyed the spray they flung in
his face. He felt they were not at play this morning, but he wondered
and rejoiced to see his old playfellows in this their hour of strength
and daring; his spirit seemed to grow as he looked at them, and he began
to feel a new sense of power and a longing to exercise it. So he
clambered on among the rocks, breasting the wind, and fronting the
waves, till he came to a quiet sandy bay at some little distance from
his home. His sea friends, for the most part, kept themselves at home,
the sand-borers in their sand-chambers, the fish in their shells, the
crabs under the thick sea-weeds,--not yet feeling any confidence in the
weather; so that he was more alone than usual.
And as he stood on the rocks which enclosed the bay, on the other side
he caught sight of something white gleaming among the rocks. As fast as
his little feet could carry him he hastened across the bay to discover
what this could be, skirting the waves which curved towards the shore,
and in his haste often plunging into them.
But when he reached the point to which he was hastening, surprise and
awe nearly took away his breath, and he stood with parted lips and a
sudden paleness in his cheeks. Lashed to a plank lay a little creature
like himself,--a little maiden with her eyes closed as if she were
asleep, and her lips and face as white as her dress.
The Child watched her in silence a minute to see if she would speak. He
felt sure the sweet Singers had sent her to him from the heavens, and he
feared to disturb her till she awoke. But at length he ventured to
whisper, and then to speak louder and louder, asking her to wake. Still
the white lips did not close, nor the pale eyelids open. Then a cold awe
crept over the Child, and at last he burst into tears. Was it to be
another disappointment, like the silent roll of dead leaves? and should
he never find any who would understand him or speak to him? In his tears
he forgot all his awe, and stooping down he took one little cold hand in
both his warm ones, and said gently, "Speak to me--only one word. Indeed
I would understand you, and I would love you so dearly."
Then, as still no answer came, he threw both his arms around the little
maiden's neck, and pressed his warm breast to hers, and laid his cheek
to hers, and prayed her only to wake, even if she would not speak;
until, as he folded her thus, so tight and warm, in his little soft
arms, he felt something faintly beating against his heart, and a quiver
passed through the pale lips, and the Child sobbed aloud, "You hear me!
you are waking! you will speak to me!"
And his tears fell faster than ever for joy.
Then the pale-veined eyelids slowly opened, and two eyes looked into
his, as blue as the violets. But they were not flowers; they were sweet
human eyes. They looked at him with a strange, bewildered, questioning
look, and at length a faint voice murmured, "Is it a dream?--are we in
heaven?"
It was the first human voice the Child remembered to have heard, but it
did not surprise him. It seemed familiar, as if he had heard it long
ago, he knew not where; and he said, "No, we are not in heaven, and it
is not a dream; but the sweet Singers in heaven have sent you to me."
Then the Child unfastened the cords which bound the little maiden to the
plank, and she sat upright and looked around her. The sun poured down
his warmest rays, and soon dried her dress. And when she was able, he
led her gently over the rocks to his cave, and laid her on his own warm
little bed, and gave her honey and fruits, and sat by her and watched
her till she fell asleep. In her sleep she still clung to his hand, and
if he moved she would stir uneasily and murmur in her sleep; so the
Child made up his mind to sit beside her all night, and not once close
his eyes. It was such a joy to feel that she could not do without him.
But he was more tired than he knew, with the storm of last night and the
great delight of the day; and before he thought of it, sleep had crept
into his eyes and shut them fast; and the little weary head sank down
beside the maiden, and he dreamt of the sweet Singers carrying her in
their arms through the winds and waves to him.
CHAPTER II.
When the Child opened his eyes he was very much ashamed to find the
little maiden awake before him, and gliding quietly about the cave,
making herself quite at home. Yet he could not help lying still, and
watching what she would do while she thought he was asleep.
And first he saw her kneel down on the white sand, and clasp her hands,
and look up, and speak softly to some One. He followed her eyes, but he
could see no one; and he wondered to whom she could be speaking. He was
sure it must be One who listened, for the little maiden's eyes filled
with tears; and yet when she rose she looked so happy.
Then as she was moving silently about, she seemed to see something which
gave her great joy, for she clasped her hands, and looked up again,
while the tears streamed over her cheeks. And, to the Child's surprise,
she took up the little carved wooden tube, and drew out the parchments,
and kissed them, and pressed them to her heart. But the Child's surprise
increased when he saw her seat herself on the ground, and spread the
roll on her knee, and trace her finger along the twisted lines, and
smile and sigh, as if the roll of dead leaves were talking to her. And
as she sat, every now and then her eyes were lifted up as when she had
been kneeling, and the Child felt sure there must be One listening to
her. So he rose and went outside the cave, but he could see no one; and
then he came back, and sat down by the little girl, and said, "I cannot
find any one. Whom are you talking to?"
"Do not you speak to GOD?" said the maiden with a look of wonder and
sorrow.
The Child gazed earnestly into her face for some moments, and then said
in a soft whisper, "_Is that the Name?_"
"What Name?" asked the maiden.
"The Name they are always trying to speak on the shore, and on the sea,
and in the wood, and among the stars!"
"Yes; it must be God!" she replied. "There is no other Name; for He is
everywhere, and He made everything!"
The Child sat silent for some time, with a look of awe in his eyes, and
then he said, "Was it to Him you were speaking whilst I was asleep?"
"Yes," she said.
"What were you saying?" he asked.
"I was thanking Him for bringing me here, and asking Him to take care of
you and me."
"Then it was GOD who took care of you in the storm?"
"It is GOD who gives us everything good. He is so very good, and He
loves us so much!"
"Did you ever hear Him speak?" asked the Child, after another silence.
"You seem to know Him so well."
"No, I never heard Him," replied the maiden; "but when I look at this,"
she added, folding the parchment close to her, "He talks to me in my
heart!"
The Child clasped his hands round his knees as he sat on the ground, and
looking up into her face, he said, "It is very wonderful. I should like
to know more about it. But who told you?"
The little girl could not answer him: she burst into tears, and could
only sob, "My mother--oh, my mother!"
The Child was frightened to see her cry so bitterly. He kissed her and
told her not to cry, and then he brought her all his prettiest shells to
look at; but she would not look at them, nor be comforted, but kept
sobbing, "Mother, mother!--shall I never see you any more?--are you lost
in the deep, cold sea?--will you never speak to me again?" So at last he
sat down and began to cry too; for he thought of the storm, and the
wailing voices, and the little faithful mother-bird spreading her wings
over her brood, and he felt something very sad must have happened to the
little girl, and she must have lost what was dearest to her in the
world. At length, as she wept on, he nestled his hands into hers, and
whispered timidly, "Cannot God help you?--speak to Him!"
Then the little maiden became quieter, and the two little ones knelt
down together, and she murmured, "Our Father who art in heaven."
Her tears fell fast, and she could not say any more; but when she rose,
her face was beaming, and her eyes smiled gravely through her tears: and
the Child felt there was One who loved them and was near them, wherever
they were.
But he was afraid to ask her any more questions, so he led her into the
wood. He thought she might not like to go beside the sea. And there,
among the flowers, and the sunbeams, and the birds, the two children
forgot their tears, and rejoiced in the joy of all the happy creatures.
In the evening, when they were sitting hand in hand at the entrance of
the cave, the little maiden suddenly said,--
"How long have you been here?"
"I do not know," said the Child, looking up at her in surprise. "Always,
I suppose!"
"But I think I know," said the maiden. "You are my little younger
brother who was lost so long ago. I am sure you are!" she added; "for
whenever I look at you, my mother's eyes seem looking at me through
yours."
And the children hugged each other close, and laughed and wept together.
And the happy Child was long in falling asleep that night, for he had
found a sister, and he had learned the blessed Name, and he knew there
was One watching over them always, and loving them dearly.
CHAPTER III.
The Child awoke happier than ever, and began to prepare a feast for his
little sister; but when he had finished, and stood in the entrance of
the cave looking toward the sea, a cold shudder crept over him. Now the
waves were sparkling and laughing, and he knew that thousands of happy
creatures were busy amongst them; but he could not forget the storm and
the wailing voices, for he thought of the tender mother whose kind eyes
might have smiled on him, who was lying there. So he turned from the
sea, but he could not turn from the thought. And as they were walking
again by the green path into the wood, at length he ventured to say,--
"Sister, was our mother with you on that stormy night?"
"Yes," she said, very sorrowfully; "we were all in the ship together."
"Then," he said, "if God could take care of you, may He not have taken
care of her, and be bringing her to us?"
The maiden shook her head and murmured,--
"She is dead, brother; she will never come to us. It is death that keeps
her from us."
"What is death?" said the child.
"I do not know," replied the maiden, her tears beginning to flow again;
"she is happy with God; but she will never come to us again."
The Child was silent for some minutes. Then he said,--
"It must be the same that happened to my own dear little bird last
winter."
"What little bird?"
"My little bird which used to come and sing to me every day whilst I
took my breakfast, and eat from my hand, until one morning I found it
lying quite still on the mossy bank. I spoke to it, but it would not
open its eyes; and when I took it up, its little breast and wings, which
were always so soft and warm, were quite cold. And it never sang to me
again."
"Yes," said the maiden softly, "that must have been death."
They walked on some steps without speaking, till the Child said,--
"Why does God let anything die, when He is so good?"
"My mother said it was not God who sent death into the world," she
replied, "but sin; and God and sin cannot dwell together."
"What is sin?" asked the Child.
"It is when we are fretful or unkind, or when we are loving ourselves
best," she said.
And then she told him all she knew about the beautiful Garden, and the
two happy people for whom God made it all; and of the Enemy who tempted
them to distrust God's love and disobey Him. And since then, she said,
sin and death had never left the world.
The Child looked very much perplexed and grieved, and asked if that was
the end of all God had made so good and happy?
Then the little maiden told him another story of wonderful love and
sorrow: of One, great and good and glorious above all, who left the
happy heavens and came down to bear all the sin; of His poor cradle in
the manger, about which the angels came to sing; of His being so poor
that He had not where to lay His head; of His walking about teaching
until He was weary; of the sick people He healed; of the little dead
girl whose cold hand He touched, and she sat up and began to speak; of
His taking little children in His arms, laying His hands on them, and
blessing them; and then of where the cruel people stretched those kind
arms which had been folded so tenderly around their little ones;--until
the Child hid his face on the mossy bank where they were sitting, and
wept as if his heart would break.
Tears were in the little maiden's eyes also, yet she was frightened to
see him sob so bitterly, and tried to comfort him; but he only wept on
and sobbed out,--
"O sister! I cannot bear to live, since He is dead!"
Then the maiden's eyes glistened with joy, and she took his hands, and
said,--
"He is not dead, brother--He rose from the cold grave where they laid
Him, and now He is alive for evermore in heaven; and He loves little
children just as He used: and one day He will come and take us up to be
with Him."
"_Shall we see Him?_" said the Child, his tears stopping in a moment, as
he looked up with a beaming face, "will He speak to us, to _you_ and to
_me_?"
The little maiden believed surely that He would.
"And is our mother with Him?" asked the Child.
"I am sure she is; she loved Him so dearly!" the little girl replied.
"Then we must never wish her back, sister," he said; "only think how
happy she must be!"
So all day the happy children wandered about the wood, and spoke of the
blessed stories the little maiden had heard from her mother or read in
the Book, their hearts full of that Name which is above every name. And
when evening came, and they had knelt together in prayer, the little
maiden began to sing a hymn.
She sang of God, and of Him who loved God and loved men, and offered
Himself up to keep the holy law, and save lost and sinful men who had
broken it. She thanked Him for making everything so good and beautiful;
she thanked Him for so loving and redeeming them. The words were very
simple, but the things she sang about were very high and deep; and as
the Child listened to her, he heard again the old, sweet, solemn Song;
sweet and solemn as he had never heard it before. It pealed up from the
waves and the countless multitudes of living creatures who dwelt in
them; it streamed from the wood in a thousand tones of joy; it thrilled
from star to star through the heavens;--and every silvery note of
melody, and every grand burst of harmony, fitted into the words of the
little maiden's song, and echoed the sacred Name she uttered.
The Child listened for some time in a trance of speechless joy, till (he
scarcely knew how) the love and thankfulness which were in his heart
burst from his lips, and he also sang the Words of the Song.
CHAPTER IV.
So the happy days glided on one after another, and bore the busy happy
children with them. They disentangled the weeds which twisted themselves
too tight around the tender young saplings; they trained back the
branches to let the sunbeams through on the flowers which were growing
pale in the shade; they raised the drooping heads of many a delicate
blossom, and twined their fragile stalks around a stronger stem, till
every flower in the wood knew them, and flushed with joy as they passed;
and the branches bent towards them as willows towards the rivers.
They watched the busy sea-creatures at their work. They saw the
sea-birds poise on the wing, dive under the waves, and then soar up
again, their breasts glittering like opals, and the spray raining in
sparkling drops from their wings; and the Child climbed the rocks to
peep into the nests, whilst his sister watched him from below. Many a
stranded anemone expanded its petals gratefully as they laid it in the
clear rock-pool; and many a shipwrecked medusa spread its crystal
streamers on the waves where they replaced it, thus paying them royal
honours.
And as they worked and watched, they and the happy creatures sang
together, and the Song was complete.
The little maiden also taught the Child to read the Book; and often the
day would pass so quickly as they read together on the mossy banks, or
wandered hand in hand beside the waves or among the trees, talking of
all the blessed histories they knew, that morning and evening seemed to
touch.
But as they read on, and grew themselves, the Book seemed to grow and
unfold before them. They read of a warfare and a race, of crowns to be
placed on the heads of those who won, with words of welcome from a Voice
they knew. They read of many who suffered and toiled, and of the cup of
cold water a child's hand could carry, which should in no wise lose its
reward.
They read of a World which God loved, and of many lost children whom He
sought to bring home to Him. And as they often talked about it together,
they became sure that the World must be beyond the mountains which rose
above the waterfall. Thither, therefore, they would often go; and thence
they would follow the little stream across the plain, trying to reach
the mountains where it was born. Every time they tried they drew nearer,
until one day the creatures in the wood and on the shore lost sight of
them, and never saw them more.
* * * * *
But in the land on the other side of the mountains there was found, long
afterwards, a strange legend of two children who came from beyond the
hills, with a wonderful Book, and a sweet and solemn Song. They went
from house to house, reading the Book to all who would listen, and
teaching the Song to any who would learn. And it was said that wherever
they went, joy and music sprang up in their footsteps.
In homes where jarring voices made sad discord, they read the Book and
taught that blessed Song, and voices which joined in it soon lost their
harshness and ceased to jar. By sick-beds they sang it, and the voice of
patience and peace replaced the murmurs of disease; they taught it in
homes of poverty and toil, to little lisping children, to mothers
burdened with many cares, to men toiling by the wayside.
In some places the Children met with rough usage, like Him whose Name
gave all the power and sweetness to their Song; but nothing could dry up
the flood of love and melody in their hearts; and it was believed that
although their footsteps had passed away from earth, they were still
singing the blessed Song in a happy place beyond the heavens.
But the Book remained with the people, and the Song lived in their
hearts; and if you go to that country you may hear it now, in palaces
and in lowly homes of toil, by beds of sickness, and by the wayside; in
happy choruses, or sung by lonely voices, which but for it would have
had no music. And trees and flowers, the sea and the stars, streams and
busy living creatures, and even rocks and stones, join in it. For the
Song is no more without Words.
THE END.
* * * * *
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Edition_, 4s.
_An interesting study of character, going mainly to show the beauty of a
quiet, manly Christian life; on the other hand the terrible moral
degradation to which selfishness unchecked may lead._
Winning the Victory; or, Di Pennington's Reward. A Tale. By
EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN, Author of "The Heiress of Wylmington,"
etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 3s. 6d.
_A very interesting tale for young people. The charm of a thoroughly
unselfish character is displayed, and in one of an opposite description
the idol Self is at last dethroned._
Rinaultrie. By Mrs. MILNE-RAE, Author of "Morag: A Story of
Highland Life," etc. Crown 8vo, gilt top. Price 5s. _Cheaper
Edition_, 4s.
"_We heartily commend this fresh, healthy, and carefully-written tale,
with its truthful and vivid pictures of Scottish life._"--ABERDEEN FREE
PRESS.
On Angels' Wings; or, The Story of Little Violet of
Edelsheim. By the Hon. Mrs. Greene, Author of "The Grey
House on the Hill," etc. Crown 8vo, gilt edges. Price 5s.
_Cheaper Edition_, 4s.
"_Is interesting from the intensity of human feeling and sympathy it
develops._"--LITERARY WORLD.
Mine Own People. By LOUISA M. GRAY, Author of "Nelly's
Teachers," etc. Crown 8vo. Price 5s. _Cheaper Edition_, 4s.
_It is a work of great human interest, and all the more is it human
because it recognizes the supreme human interest--namely, that of
religion, and the strength, purity, and gladness which religion brings
to them who receive it in its simplicity and power. A wholesome,
suggestive, and wisely-stimulating book for young women._
Nelly's Teachers, and what they Learned. By LOUISA M. GRAY,
Author of "Ada and Gerty," etc. Post 8vo, cl. ex., gilt ed.
3s.
_A tale for the young. Alice and Lina, while themselves children, trying
to teach on Sunday evenings a very young and ignorant child, become
learners also in the best sense of the word._
Ada and Gerty; or, Hand in Hand Heavenward. A Story of
School Life. By LOUISA M. GRAY, Author of "Dunalton," etc.
Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. 3s.
_A touching story of two girls, giving an interesting account of their
education and school experiences._
The Children of Abbotsmuir Manse. A Tale for the Young. By
LOUISA M. GRAY, Author of "Nelly's Teachers," etc. Post 8vo,
cloth extra, gilt edges. 3s.
"_This is a book we should like to see in the hands of children. It will
help them to be both happy and good._"--DAILY REVIEW.
Dunalton. The Story of Jack and his Guardians. By LOUISA M.
GRAY, Author of "Nelly's Teachers," "Ada and Gerty," etc.
Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 3s.
"_A well-conceived, well-told, and deeply interesting
story._"--PRESBYTERIAN MESSENGER.
* * * * *
Library of Historical Tales.
Dorothy Arden. A Story of England and France Two Hundred
Years Ago. By J. M. CALLWELL. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price
4s.
_A story of the dragonnades in France in the time of Louis XIV. Also of
the persecutions in England under James II., the Monmouth rebellion, the
Bloody Assize, and the Revolution._
How they Kept the Faith. A Tale of the Huguenots of
Languedoc. By GRACE RAYMOND. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price
4s.
"_No finer, more touchingly realistic, and truthfully accurate picture
of the Languedoc Huguenots have we met._"--ABERDEEN FREE PRESS.
The Lost Ring. A Romance of Scottish History in the Days of
King James and Andrew Melville. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. 4s.
"_The plot of the romance is skilfully constructed, the dialogue is
admirable, and the principal actors in the history are portrayed with
great ability._"--U. P. MISSIONARY RECORD.
The City and the Castle. A Story of the Reformation in
Switzerland. By ANNIE LUCAS, Author of "Leonie," etc. Crown
8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s.
_Faithfully portrays the state and character of society at the time of
the Reformation (in Switzerland)._
Leonie; or, Light out of Darkness: and Within Iron Walls, a
Tale of the Siege of Paris. Twin-Stories of the
Franco-German War. By ANNIE LUCAS. Crown 8vo, cloth extra.
Price 4s.
_Two tales, the first connected with the second. One, of country life in
France during the war; the other, life within the besieged capital._
Under the Southern Cross. A Tale of the New World. By the
Author of "The Spanish Brothers," etc. Crown 8vo, cl. ex.
4s.
_A thrilling and fascinating story._
Alison Walsh. A Study of To-Day. By CONSTANCE EVELYN. Crown
8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s.
La Rochelle; or, The Refugees. A Story of the Huguenots. By
Mrs. E. C. WILSON. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s.
Wenzel's Inheritance; or, Faithful unto Death. A Tale of
Bohemia in the Fifteenth Century. By ANNIE LUCAS. Crown 8vo,
cloth extra. Price 4s.
_Presents a vivid picture of the religious and social condition of
Bohemia in the fifteenth century._
Helena's Household. A Tale of Rome in the First Century.
With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s.
The Spanish Brothers. A Tale of the Sixteenth Century. By
the Author of "The Dark Year of Dundee." Crown 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 4s.
The Czar. A Tale of the Time of the First Napoleon. By the
Author of "The Spanish Brothers," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 4s.
_An interesting tale of the great Franco-Russian war in 1812-13; the
characters partly French, partly Russian._
Arthur Erskine's Story. A Tale of the Days of Knox. By the
Author of "The Spanish Brothers," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 4s.
_The object of the writer of this tale is to portray the life of the
people in the days of Knox._
Pendower. A Story of Cornwall in the Reign of Henry the
Eighth. By M. FILLEUL. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s.
_A tale illustrating in fiction that stirring period of English history
previous to the Reformation._
* * * * *
Prize Temperance Tales.
ONE HUNDRED POUND PRIZE TALE.
Frank Oldfield/ or, Lost and Found. By the Rev. T. P.
WILSON, M.A. With Five Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra.
Price 3s. 6d.
_An interesting prize temperance tale; the scene partly in Lancashire,
partly in Australia._
ONE HUNDRED POUND PRIZE TALE.
Sought and Saved. By M. A. PAULL, Author of "Tim's Troubles;
or, Tried and True." With Six Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_A prize temperance tale for the young. With illustrative engravings._
ONE HUNDRED POUND PRIZE TALE.
Through Storm to Sunshine. By WILLIAM J. LACEY, Author of "A
Life's Motto," "The Captain's Plot," etc. With
Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 3s. 6d.
_This interesting tale was selected by the Band of Hope Union last year,
from among thirty-seven others, as worthy of the L100 prize. It now
forms a beautiful volume, with six good illustrations._
FIFTY POUND PRIZE TALE.
Tim's Troubles; or, Tried and True. By M. A. PAULL. With
Five Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_A prize temperance tale for young persons, the hero an Irish boy, who
owes everything in after life to having joined a Band of Hope in
boyhood._
FIFTY POUND PRIZE TALE.
Lionel Franklin's Victory. By E. VAN SOMMER. With Six
Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_An interesting prize temperance tale for the young, with illustrative
engravings._
SEVENTY POUND PRIZE TALE.
The Naresborough Victory. A Story in Five Parts. By the Rev.
T. KEYWORTH, Author of "Dick the Newsboy," "Green and Grey,"
etc., etc. With Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 2s.
6d.
"_In construction the story is good, in style it is excellent, and it is
certain to be a general favourite._"--MANCHESTER EXAMINER.
"_Attractive in its incidents and forcible in its lessons._"--LIVERPOOL
ALBION.
SPECIAL PRIZE TALE.
Owen's Hobby; or, Strength in Weakness. A Tale. By ELMER
BURLEIGH. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_Replete with touching, often saddening, and frequently amusing
incidents._
SPECIAL PRIZE TALE.
Every-Day Doings. By HELLENA RICHARDSON. With Six
Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A prize temperance tale, "written for an earnest purpose" and
consisting almost entirely of facts._
* * * * *
By Uphill Paths; or, Waiting and Winning. A Story of Work to
be Done. By E. VAN SOMMER, Author of "Lionel Franklin's
Victory." Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
True to His Colours; or, The Life that Wears Best. By the
Rev. T. P. WILSON, M.A., Vicar of Pavenham, Author of "Frank
Oldfield," etc. With Six Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra.
Price 3s. 6d.
_An interesting tale--the scene laid in England--illustrating the
influence over others for good of one consistent Christian man and
temperance advocate._
* * * * *
Stories of Home and School Life.
Stepping Heavenward. A Tale of Home Life. By the Author of
"The Flower of the Family," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra.
Price 2s. 6d.
_A tale of girlhood and early married life, with discipline and trials,
all resulting in good at last. Every girl should read this remarkably
truthful and fascinating book._
Ever Heavenward; or, A Mother's Influence. By the Author of
"Stepping Heavenward," "The Flower of the Family," etc. Post
8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A tale of home life, with its ordinary joys and sorrows, under the
guidance of its leading spirit,--a wise, loving, pious mother._
The Flower of the Family. A Tale of Domestic Life. By the
Author of "Stepping Heavenward," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra.
Price 2s. 6d.
_A tale of home life,--the central figure being an unselfish, devoted,
pious eldest daughter._
Changed Scenes; or, The Castle and the Cottage. By Lady
HOPE, Author of "Our Coffee House," "A Maiden's Work,"
"Sunny Footsteps," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_An interesting story for girls, of two English orphans and their
guardian, in the course of which valuable moral and religious lessons
are conveyed by some pleasing allegories._
Almost a Hero; or, School Days at Ashcombe. By ROBERT
RICHARDSON, Author of "The Story of the Niger," "Ralph's
Year in Russia," etc. With Seven Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 2s. 6d.
A Thorny Way. By MARY BRADFORD WHITING. Post 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A very interesting story, in which the character-sketches show no
little discernment._
A True Hero; or, The Story of Amos Huntingdon. A Tale of
Moral Courage. By Rev. T. P. WILSON, M.A., Vicar of
Pavenham; Author of "Frank Oldfield," "True to His Colours,"
etc. Small crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A tale illustrative of moral courage, with examples taken from real
life._
Aunt Judith. The Story of a Loving Life. By GRACE BEAUMONT.
Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A simple and touching story of the blessed influence exerted by a
Christ-like life (Aunt Judith's) on all who came in contact with it._
Edith Raymond, and the Story of Huldah Brent's Will. A Tale.
By S. S. ROBBINS. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A curious story of the forging of a will, in his own interest, by an
avaricious lawyer, of the immediate consequences of the deed, and of the
peculiar way in which it was discovered, and the humiliation of the
forger._
Follow the Right. A Tale for Boys. By G. E. WYATT, Author of
"Archie Digby," "Lionel Harcourt," "Harry Bertram," etc.
Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_The hero of this story is an Etonian who is possessed of a moral nature
remarkable for its strength and power; and the book is written with
sprightliness and vigour._
* * * * *
Self-Effort Series.
The Achievements of Youth. By the Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D.,
Ph.D., Author of "Lives Made Sublime," "Doing Good," etc.
Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
Famous Artists. Michael Angelo--Leonardo da
Vinci--Raphael--Titian--Murillo--Rubens--Rembrandt. By SARAH
K. BOLTON. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 3s. 6d.
_Interesting biographies of Michael Angelo, Da Vinci, Raphael, Titian,
Murillo, Rubens, and Rembrandt, The book also contains critical and
other notices by Vasari, Passavant, Taine, Crowe and Cavalcaselle, etc.,
which are both interesting and instructive._
Doing Good; or, The Christian in Walks of Usefulness.
Illustrated by Examples. By the Rev. R. STEEL, D.D. Post
8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_A series of short biographical sketches of Christians remarkable for
various kinds of usefulness, for example and encouragement to others._
General Grant's Life. (From the Tannery to the White House.)
Story of the Life of Ulysses S. Grant: his Boyhood, Youth,
Manhood, Public and Private Life and Services. By WILLIAM M.
THAYER, Author of "From Log Cabin to White House," etc. With
Portrait, Vignette, etc. Reprinted complete from the
American Edition. 400 pages. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt
side and edges. Price 3s. 6d. _Cheaper Edition_,2s. 6d.
Earnest Men: Their Life and Work. By the late Rev. W. K.
TWEEDIE, D.D. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_Contains biographical sketches of eminent patriots, heroes for the
truth, philanthropists, and men of science._
The Young Huguenots; or, The Soldiers of the Cross. A Story
of the Seventeenth Century. By "FLEUR DE LYS." With Six
Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
Heroes of the Desert. The Story of the Lives of Moffat and
Livingstone. By the Author of "Mary Powell." New and
Enlarged Edition, with numerous Illustrations and two
Portraits. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_In this handsome new edition the story of Dr. Moffat is completed; a
sketch being given of the principal incidents in the last twenty years
of his life._
Lives Made Sublime by Faith and Works. By the Rev. R. STEEL,
D.D., Author of "Doing Good," etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra.
Price 3s. 6d.
_A volume of short biographical sketches of Christian men, eminent and
useful in various walks of life,--as Hugh Miller, Sir Henry Havelock,
Robert Flockhart, etc._
Noble Women of Our Time. By JOSEPH JOHNSON, Author of
"Living in Earnest," etc. With Accounts of the Work of
Misses De Broen, Whately, Carpenter, F. R. Havergal,
Macpherson, Sister Dora, etc. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price
3s. 6d.
_A handsome volume, containing short biographies of many Christian
women, whose lives have been devoted to missionary and philanthropic
work--Sister Dora, Mrs. Tait, Frances Havergal, etc._
Self-Effort; or, The True Method of Attaining Success in
Life. By JOSEPH JOHNSON, Author of "Living in Earnest," etc.
Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 3s. 6d.
_This book of example and encouragement has been written to induce
earnestness in life, the illustrations being drawn from recent books of
biography._
* * * * *
Favourite Stories by A. L. O. E.
The Crown of Success; or, Four Heads to Furnish. With Eight
Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 3s.
_An allegorical tale for the young. The four cottages of Head taken and
furnished by Dame Desley's four children, with the help of their friend,
Mr. Learning. This book is of unusual interest to children, and very
instructive. Suited for ages from ten to twelve years._
Cyril Ashley. A Tale. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. 3s.
_An English tale for young persons, illustrative of some of the
practical lessons to be learned from the Scripture story of Jonah the
prophet._
The Giant Killer; or, The Battle which All must Fight. Post
8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. 3s.
_A tale for the young, illustrating "the battle which all must fight"
against the Giants Sloth, Selfishness, Untruth, Hate, and Pride._
House Beautiful; or, The Bible Museum. Post 8vo, cloth
extra, gilt edges. Price 3s.
"_A gallery of Scripture portraits._" _Short chapters on the most
remarkable scenes and incidents of Scripture history. With pictorial
illustrations._
The Silver Casket; or, The World and its Wiles. Illustrated.
Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. 3s.
_A tale for the young; partly an allegory; with scenes in the Palace of
Deceits, the Forest of Temptation, etc._
War and Peace. A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul in 1842.
With Eight Plates. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price
3s.
_This sketch of one of the saddest passages in our history has been
chiefly drawn from "Lady Sale's Journal."_
A Wreath of Indian Stories. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt
edges. Price 3s.
_Ten tales of native life in India; and ten short stories, illustrative
of the Commandments. These stories describe, in Oriental style, the
every-day scenes and customs of native life._
Battling with the World; or, The Roby Family. Illustrated.
Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 2s. 6d.
_This tale forms a sequel to "The Giant-Killer; or, The Battle which All
must Fight," by the same Author._
Flora; or, Self-Deception. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth
extra, gilt edges. Price 2s. 6d.
_The good seed springing up among stones and thorns, with too little
root to bear "fruit with patience," or to withstand the force of
temptation. A tale for the young._
The Haunted Room. A Tale. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 2s. 6d.
_An interesting tale, intended to warn against nervous and superstitious
fears and weakness, and show remedy of Christian courage and presence of
mind._
The Mine; or, Darkness and Light. Illustrated. Post 8vo,
cloth extra, gilt edges. 2s. 6d.
_A tale for the young of a somewhat allegorical character, in which it
is shown that Faith and Religion are sure guides through the most
difficult paths in life. The incidents of the story are absorbing
without being of a sensational character._
Miracles of Heavenly Love in Daily Life. With Eight
Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. Price 2s. 6d.
_Twelve tales (some of the same characters in them all) illustrative of
many of our Lord's miracles; showing that miracles of God's love, which
should not be overlooked or undervalued, often occur in the common
events of life._
The Blacksmith of Boniface Lane. Post 8vo, cloth extra. 2s.
6d.
_A tale having an historical basis. Its hero is John Badby, the Lollard
blacksmith, who perished at the stake. The incidents and characters are
portrayed with all the freshness and picturesqueness common to A. L. O.
E.'s works._
Beyond the Black Waters. A Tale. Post 8vo, cl. ex. 2s. 6d.
_A story illustrating the truth that "sorrow tracketh wrong," and that
there can be no peace of conscience till sin has been confessed both to
God and man, and forgiveness obtained. The scene is laid chiefly in
British Burmah._
Harold's Bride. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_An interesting story, written in the author's characteristic style, and
affording instructive glimpses of the hardships and dangers of
missionary life in the rural districts of India._
Pride and His Prisoners. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.
6d.
_A tale for the young, partly allegorical, to show the fatal effects of
pride on character and happiness._
Rambles of a Rat. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt
edges. Price 2s. 6d.
_A rat telling his own story, with many facts of the natural history and
habits of rats._
The Robbers' Cave. A Story of Italy. Illustrated. Post 8vo,
cloth extra, gilt edges. 2s. 6d.
_A tale for the young. The adventures of an English youth among Italian
brigands. With tinted illustrations._
The Triumph over Midian. With Frontispiece and Vignette.
Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d.
_A tale for the young, illustrative of the Scripture history of Gideon._
Fairy Know-a-Bit; or, A Nut-shell of Knowledge. With upwards
of 40 Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.
Fairy Frisket; or, Peeps at Insect Life. With upwards of 50
Engravings. Post 8vo, cl. ex. 2s.
_Fairy teachers (a sequel to "Fairy Know-a-Bit"), and lessons from
insect life and natural history._
The Holiday Chaplet of Stories. With Eight Engravings. Post
8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.
_Thirty-eight short stories for the young._
My Neighbour's Shoes; or, Feeling for Others. Illustrated.
Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s.
_A fairy tale, enforcing the duty and happiness of kindness and sympathy
towards all around us._
Old Friends with New Faces. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cl. ex.
1s.
_A tale for children, in which some old favourite stories--Bluebeard,
the Fisherman and the Genii, etc.--are introduced in an allegorical
form, with incidents that illustrate them._
Parliament in the Playroom; or, Law and Order made Amusing.
With Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.
The Sunday Chaplet of Stories. With Eight Engravings. Post
8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s.
_The thirty-two stories in this volume are suitable for Sunday reading.
Christian principles are taught in them without heaviness or dulness. It
is a good book for the home circle, or for the Sunday school._
The Golden Fleece; or, Who Wins the Prize? _New Edition._
Foolscap 8vo, cloth extra. 1s. 6d.
The Story of a Needle. Illustrated. Foolscap 8vo, cloth
extra. Price 1s. 6d.
_A tale for the young, interwoven with a description of the manufacture,
uses, and adventures of a needle._
T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON. EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.