THE WOOD OF STRANGE MEETINGS.
"Pamela!"
He had come back, and his eyes and his voice were full of fire.
"Pamela! What have you done to yourself, my sweetheart? You are not
the Pamela I left."
She had turned towards him as irresistibly as the needle to the
pole. But at his words a quick shiver ran through her. Her eyes
turned from him and darkened. Her head drooped.
"You have come too late," she said, almost under her breath; and her
voice was cold.
"Look at me, Pam. I have so much to tell you that you must hear. You
must not be angry with me. We have been cheated and tricked. I wrote
to your father to say I would come and ask for you, Pam, the road
being clear."
"He never had your letter."
"It was not posted, Pamela. I must tell you, Pam, though it is hard.
You have a right to know. My mother intercepted the letter."
"She detested me. I knew it from the first moment her cold eyes
rested upon me."
"She does not like me, Pam, much. But that will not part us."
"Ah!" said Pam, and her voice was almost a cry. "But we _are_
parted. She could not do it, but I have done it by my own act."
His foot knocked against the heap of trinkets on the moss.
"What are these, Pam?" he asked wonderingly.
"Give them to me," she implored. "They are mine. And you must go
away, Sir Anthony, and never come again."
"Why, I see"--holding the jewels in his hand--"they are his gifts.
But you have thrown them off!"
His eyes blazed suddenly.
"It is an omen, Pam. Let him follow his jewels. What right has he to
buy you? You had given yourself to me."
"Ah!" cried Pam, still stretching out her hands for the jewels. "You
don't know what you are talking about. He is the best man in all
the world; and our wedding-day is fixed, and my wedding-dress is
ordered."
The young man flung the jewels on the ground.
[Illustration: The young man flung the jewels on the ground.]
"There," he said, "let them lie where I found them. Why should we
think of them? It is all a bad dream, Pamela, but not so bad as it
might have been--not so bad as it might have been. Why, you are
talking folly, Pam, about wedding-days and wedding-dresses. It is
our wedding-day you must think of, and the wedding-dress you will
wear for me."
He held out his arms to her imploringly, and for a moment, with a
dazed look, she seemed as if she must come. Then she pushed him off
with a gesture of her two hands.
"No," she said. "Love is not everything--love is not everything.
There is honour, there is loyalty, there is faith. And you,--you
have your cousin to think about. She is sweet and lovely. I felt it,
though I----"
She broke off suddenly.
"Though you loved me and were jealous"; and he laughed masterfully.
"All wrong, my Pam! I never cared for Kitty in that way, nor she for
me. She is going to marry my chum, Jack Leslie. They have been in
love with each other for years."
"Your mother told me----"
His face darkened.
"I know. I shall forgive her when you have yielded your will to
mine."
"That will never be."
"Never, Pam? Ah! yes, it will. If I had come here and found that
you loved this other man, I could have done nothing but leave you.
I came full of anger and fury. All through the journey I had been
goading myself to a jealous madness; but the minute I saw you here
beside the well where I told you I loved you, I knew you were mine.
I can afford to forgive Lord Glengall."
"What do you propose to do?"
"I shall go to the house and explain to your father about the
missing letter. I was on my way there when I turned aside to the
Wishing Well and found you."
"My father loves Lord Glengall."
"He loves you better, Pam. He will not want you to marry him, loving
me."
"You take too much for granted."
"Oh, no, I don't, Pam! You are not the girl to love me seven months
ago and love another man to-day. And your eyes betray you, darling!"
"And if my father chooses Lord Glengall before you?"
"Then I will tell him the choice does not rest with him. I will go
to Lord Glengall himself."
"And if he should refuse to listen to you?"
"Then I will come to you, Pamela, my beloved."
She suddenly turned on him her beautiful, stormy eyes, and her face
was full of tragedy.
"And I shall send you away," she said. "It is no question of loving.
I shall not see you any more, Tony"--using the familiar name
unconsciously--"never, I hope, after to-day. And I love you; I do
love you, and if I might love you for ever I should be the happiest
woman on earth. No, don't come near me, for I am saying good-bye to
you. I decline to purchase my happiness, and even yours, at the cost
of unhappiness to the best man I ever knew. Ah! go now, my love, and
do not tempt me any more. You will soon forget me."
She turned as if to go, but before Anthony Trevithick could make any
effort to detain her, a quiet voice spoke beside them.
"I came to meet you, Pamela. I expected to find you alone. Who is
this gentleman?"
Pamela turned quickly, and put her hand into the hand of her
betrothed.
"It is Sir Anthony Trevithick, Lord Glengall."
The two men bowed coldly.
"I will take Miss Graydon home now," said Lord Glengall, drawing her
hand through his arm. "I am grateful to you for having taken care of
her."
[Illustration: "I will take Miss Graydon home now," said Lord
Glengall.]
The two stood looking at each other, and the air was as if charged
with a storm.
"I am staying in the neighbourhood," said Sir Anthony stiffly. "I
shall hope to see your lordship later on."
"Come," whispered Pamela to her betrothed, "come away. I will
explain to you."
She stole one glance at the hot and angry face of her young lover.
Then, without a word, she passed out of his sight down one of the
wood paths, still clinging to Lord Glengall's arm.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then she lifted her eyes
to her companion's sad face.
"You heard what I said," she half-whispered. "I am not afraid of
you; I was loyal."
"Yes, you were loyal, Pam, in the spirit, but loyalty without love
is poor comfort. It is not enough for me."
"I do love you."
"I believe you do, Pam, but there are different kinds of love. Is
this that other you once told me about?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. You have had few opportunities for meeting men in
your quiet life. This is the lad who was your father's pupil?"
"The son of his old friend, Sir Gerald Trevithick."
"I ought to have met him when he was here. But I was finishing up in
Australia. He is honest, Pam--is he?"
"I am sure he is--now. Before I thought he was false."
"How did it come that he went away like that, having made you love
him?"
"He was called away to a sick uncle. He wrote to father to explain,
but the letter never reached him."
"You are sure he wrote?"
"Yes, he has told me. His mother----You saw her once?"
"A frozen-looking woman, dressed like an empress, who came one day.
She was so haughty to me that I very soon removed myself."
"That was her."
"My poor little Pam!--that was the woman you went to visit
afterwards? I had not realised it. I never thought of her after that
day."
"She made me very unhappy. From the first she had a quiet way
of making me feel not of her world, and afterwards she was
horrid--about papa. She told me--falsehoods, too."
"Why didn't you come home, Pam?"
"I wouldn't let them know that the visit had been so horrible. Papa
was pleased for me to go. Then he fell ill, and I came away."
"What did she tell you, Pam?"
"She told me Sir Anthony was engaged to his cousin. It was she who
intercepted his letter to papa, in which he said he would come back."
"Ah! there are such women. But why didn't he speak fully and frankly
before he went?"
"I do not know. There was some reason. He spoke of something that
stood in the way."
Lord Glengall frowned, with his eyes on the ground.
"I shall find out the reason," he said.
"Ah! no," cried Pamela, clinging to his arm. "Let it be. I have told
him he must go away. I belong to you, and not to him."
A little spasm of pain passed over the irregular features.
"Don't try me too much, Pamela, or I might take you at your word."
"I want you to take me at my word."
"I am sure you do--at this moment."
"Now and always."
"My little Pam! Still mine till I give you up of my own free will.
You will trust me to do what is for the best?"
"I will trust you for ever. You are not going to give me up?"
Again his face contracted.
"Not unless I ought to, Pam. Not unless the lad is straight and can
prove himself worthy of you. If I feel he can make you happier than
I can, I will give you to him. If not, I will keep you in spite of
yourself, and trust to my love to make you forget him."
"I think that might easily come true."
"Don't make it hard for me, Pam, if I have to cede my right
to another. Pamela"--she had lifted her hands to him in her
emotion--"where is your ring?"
Pamela wrung her hands in her trouble.
"Do not be angry with me," she entreated. "I took it off in the
wood, there where you found me. It is there still."
"Pamela," his voice was stern. "Did _he_ remove your ring?"
"No, no. A thousand times, no! How could you think I would let him?"
"Forgive me, child--I ought to have known you better. But why did
you take off the ring?"
She looked to left and right, as though seeking a way of escape, and
answered nothing.
"I see," said Lord Glengall, and his face had a look of suffering.
"You took it off because it irked you to wear it. You wanted to be
free."
"It was only a mood."
"A bad mood for me, child. Why could you not have trusted me, and
have told me I had asked too much? It would have been kinder."
"I shall never forgive myself," cried Pam.
"I am going back for the ring, Pam. Run away home now, and I shall
bring it. Run now--I can keep you in sight till I see you within the
door of Carrickmoyle. I shall not be long."
"The ring is on the ground, by the well," said Pamela, her head
hanging like the head of a sensitive child caught in the act of
wrongdoing. "You will find it there, and my necklet and bracelet
also."
Her voice stumbled as she made her full confession.
"Poor Pam!" said Lord Glengall.
"Ah!" she said, "if you would only forget about it. There was never
any man like you. If I do not love you now, it is only because he
came first. I shall love you in time. I could not help it."
"Kiss me, Pam, before you go. I have not asked you for kisses when I
might."
"I have done nothing but hurt you," she cried, conscience-stricken.
Then she lifted her face for his kiss.
[Illustration: "I have done nothing but hurt you," she said.]
"And I have been hurting you, quite unconsciously, all the time. It
is the old story of May and December. But, thank God! it is not too
late."
He lifted his hat again, with the reverential gesture characteristic
of him. As he stood bare-headed, a glint of the dying sun fell on
his hair and forehead. It made him look old and dusty and tired.
Then Pamela went away slowly across the park to the house, while he
stood watching her. When she had entered the house, he went back
down the wood path.
As he went slowly and sadly, he felt something thrust against him.
He looked down. It was Pamela's dog, Pat, who had remained behind,
hunting an elusive rabbit, and had only just come up with their
trail. The dog jumped about him with demonstrations of joy.
Lord Glengall stooped down and patted the rough head.
"I am not to be your new master, after all, old fellow," he said.
Pat licked his hand vigorously, and then looked up inquiringly into
his face.
"She has gone home," said Lord Glengall in answer, "and I should be
a bad substitute."
But Pat manifested very unmistakably that he was going to accompany
this friend of his back into the woods.
"Ah! good little beast," said Lord Glengall, oddly comforted. "It is
good to have a dog sorry for one, Pat."
[END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN.]
[Illustration: _Illustrated from Photographs._]
CURIOUS CHARITABLE GIFTS
It is a well-known and pleasing fact that several millions of pounds
are annually devoted, throughout the kingdom, to the purposes of
public charity, but few people are aware to what a great extent
charitable gifts in _kind_ are nowadays sent to philanthropic
institutions. These "donations" vary in value from a few pence
to hundreds of pounds; and although the greater number consist
of ordinary articles which are easily disposed of, yet some most
extraordinary gifts are frequently received, of which the outside
public hears little.
Quite recently two mummified hands--one with the forearm
attached--both authoritatively stated to be over 3,000 years old,
were sent to the Church Army by a West-End physician, who brought
them from Egypt, and they will doubtless be the means of an
appreciable accession to the funds of the organisation when disposed
of.
The Salvation Army also receives some curious articles at times.
Jewellery of various kinds often finds its way to the Headquarters,
and some little time ago a deaf-and-dumb convert presented a perfect
model in cork of one of the barracks, showing the soldiers marching
in and the roughs gathered around; whilst a travelling showman who
recently joined the Army begged to be allowed to hand the officers
his stock-in-trade, which included two remarkable-looking effigies
used in his ventriloquial entertainments.
The most singular donations received by the Army, however, are
presented at the harvest festivals. General Booth's followers are
exceptionally energetic at such times, and it is no uncommon thing
for the proceeds of the gifts collected for a festival service in a
poor neighbourhood to amount to some seventy or eighty pounds, half
of which is retained for the local funds, whilst the remainder is
sent to Headquarters as a donation towards the general expenses. An
impromptu barn is frequently erected in the meeting-room with the
front open to the audience, and in this the gifts are displayed to
the best advantage.
In addition to fruit, flowers, and vegetables, presents of live
stock are often made which are not _always_ acceptable. For
instance, at one place a calf was given, and was accommodated in a
temporary stall on the platform. But it did not appear to enjoy the
service. Whenever the band played, it made such a terrible noise
that eventually it had to be escorted to a quiet corner outside.
Birds of many descriptions have also joined in these services; and a
Russian cat which was presented on such an occasion kept up harvest
celebrations during the night, we are told, by devouring a pound of
beef sausages, which represented another, though humbler, gift.
[Illustration: MUMMIFIED REMAINS PRESENTED TO THE CHURCH ARMY.]
Many people will question the advisability of allowing live stock to
be present at such services. The important fact remains, however,
that gifts of this nature frequently serve to attract large
crowds of the very people the Army officers wish to influence.
But difficulties sometimes arise through the thoughtlessness of
enthusiastic donors. At Chester recently a live donkey was led
up four flights of stairs to the barracks, and handed over as a
free-will offering. When the service concluded, it was discovered
to be impossible for the animal to walk down again; and, to use
the words of the officer, they "had to tie the thing up in a knot,
wrap it up in a sack, and lower it gently and gracefully over the
banisters!" We may hope that the patient animal did not suffer any
ill effects from his attendance at the service.
Some most curious articles are also occasionally received by the
Poor Clergy Relief Corporation, which, as is well-known, does a most
useful work by making grants in money and clothing to clergymen in
temporary distress, and to the widows and children of clergymen
who are left insufficiently provided for. These articles comprise
revolvers, respirators, artificial teeth and wigs, feeding-bottles,
military and naval uniforms, silk-worm cocoons, and bicycles, and
all are turned to account either by direct gift or by realisation at
a jumble or auction sale. An amusing incident, the secretary states,
recently occurred in the clothing department in connection with an
involuntary gift. The matron was filling a large bag for a poor
family whilst a carpenter was in the room engaged on some repairs.
He had placed his cap--which was a good one--on the table, and the
matron, thinking it part of the stock, promptly annexed it and
despatched it with the other things. It was gratefully acknowledged!
Of course, the carpenter had to be provided with a new cap, which
he has since been careful to place in his pocket when working in the
building.
[Illustration: (_Photo: Russell and Sons, Baker Street, W._)
A STACK OF OLD CLOTHING.
(_At the Offices of the Poor Clergy Relief Corporation._)]
But the institution which receives the greatest number of gifts in
kind is undoubtedly Dr. Barnardo's well-known Home for Waifs and
Strays in Stepney Causeway. During last year alone 9,651 parcels
were delivered from various supporters, containing in the aggregate
over 97,000 articles of various kinds! When it is also stated that
the sales of these goods realised, in the same twelve months, the
grand total of £1,850, some idea will be gathered of the enormous
number of articles dealt with every year, and the welcome addition
which they bring to the income of the Homes.
The gifts come from all quarters of the globe. Even such far-distant
countries as India, China, Corea, Burmah, and Japan contribute their
quota, and many a pathetic history and much amazing romance is
embodied in the articles received.
One of the most valuable, and certainly one of the most remarkable,
of the donations which have found their way to Stepney Causeway
was ex-King Theebaw's ivory throne, sent a year or two ago by a
gentleman in Rangoon. The throne was somewhat in the form of a
large armchair, and was ordered by the king in the palmy days of
his despotism. According to his edict, only the very best craftsmen
were employed to fulfil the commission, and only the finest and
soundest tusks were used. The design was exceedingly elaborate,
and both time and special talent were needed for the task, which
it took years to accomplish. But, such is the irony of Fate, when
the work was practically finished the king was deposed, and the
completed throne never passed into his possession. After some little
time it came into the hands of the Rangoon donor who so generously
presented it to Dr. Barnardo. This interesting piece of furniture
was estimated to be worth some £500. The detail of the work was
exquisite, a delicate tracery covering nearly the whole, with some
most beautiful and elaborate carving in high relief lying behind
it. The little figures inside appeared to be executed with the
utmost thoroughness, and the chair was an eloquent testimony to the
genius and patience of the native workmen.
From the same country a number of quaint silver goods are constantly
received from a resident Englishman and his native wife, both of
whom take a very keen interest in the work of saving the waifs of
the slums. Owing to the extensive fluctuations in the value of the
rupee, and to the low rate of exchange in England, they find it more
advantageous to purchase native goods which will realise good prices
in London than to send their donations in cash.
[Illustration: A HANDSOME PIECE OF INDIAN NEEDLEWORK.
(_Worked in Gold and Silver Braid and Sequins._)]
Dr. Barnardo has little difficulty in disposing of such gifts.
There is a special trade department at Stepney Causeway, consisting
of a show-room and several large and airy stores. These storage
rooms, which are not open to the general public, contain a most
extraordinary collection of gifts, including such articles as
bedsteads, false hair and teeth, old pictures, jewellery, a
microscopic cabinet, a three-manual organ, an oak lectern, boxes of
geological and ornithological specimens, air pillows, sewing and
sausage machines, a bottled snake, as well as a great variety of
clothing both new and secondhand.
[Illustration: A GROUP OF CURIOUS GIFTS.
(_From Ephesus, New Zealand, and India._)]
Amongst the more valuable of the articles which have recently
been received may be mentioned a number of exceedingly dainty and
costly Eastern shawls, and a cape constructed entirely from birds'
feathers, which is supposed to be the only one of its kind in
England. This handsome cape originally belonged to a Spanish lady,
and is now more than a hundred years old. Each feather was worked in
separately, and the various colours are so beautifully blended that
the worker must have possessed considerable artistic talent as well
as great patience, for it contains some thousands of tiny feathers
of various hues. Another piece of work that must have entailed an
immense amount of time and care is a sample of Indian needlework,
of which we give a photograph. The ground is coarse black cloth,
but the design is so cleverly worked in gold and silver braid
and sequins that the result is a most handsome example of native
embroidery, which needs to be seen to be fully appreciated.
[Illustration: THE RECEIVING ROOM AT STEPNEY CAUSEWAY.]
From India also come the two models of native types photographed
in the group shown on the preceding page. They are most delicately
moulded, every detail being scrupulously attended to. The figure on
the left is ten inches in height, and represents a grass-cutter,
whilst that on the right depicts an Indian water-carrier, and both
bear the name of the modeller--Buckshar Paul of Krishnagar.
A different form of Indian work may be seen in the candlestick in
the same illustration, which is moulded in brass in the form of a
serpent, and forms a curious and certainly not inartistic ornament.
Standing beside this is an ordinary-shaped box with a diamond design
on the lid, and this article is specially interesting, owing to
its having been constructed of sixteen different varieties of wood
grown in New Zealand. It is a far cry from this fertile colony to
the historic city of Ephesus, but we are carried thither in order
to explain the presence of the two odd-looking pieces of ware
(representing an ancient vase and lamp) to be seen in the forefront
of the same photographic group. They were selected at random from
a number of such articles which Dr. Barnardo has in his possession
awaiting a remunerative purchaser. The extraordinary character of
the gifts received at the institution is well exemplified in these
articles, which were actually discovered in the ruins of the Temple
of Diana by the well-known antiquarian, the late Mr. F. Wood. Each
piece is authenticated by the signature of the excavator, which is
affixed, and they were presented to Dr. Barnardo by Mr. Wood's widow
about three years ago.
A striking instance of the wonderful changes wrought by time is
shown in the generous gifts in money and kind recently received
from the descendants of the mutineers of the _Bounty_. Here is
romance pure and unadulterated, and Dr. Barnardo may well have said
that the following letter which recently came into his hands read
like "something out of a book." It appears that the captain of a
British vessel wrote to him from Australia as follows: "I called
in our passage through the Pacific at Pitcairn Island. A number of
the natives came off, and when they learned I was bound to Great
Britain, they desired me to take some presents for you, consisting
of a case full of fancy articles made by themselves. I have already
despatched this case to you, and I now enclose postal orders for
£5 10s. 8d., being the cash, less a spurious two-shilling piece,
which the islanders had collected for your institution." The case
contained six walking-sticks, eighty cocoanut-shell baskets, as well
as a quantity of shells and a large number of bananas. These gifts
form undoubted evidence of the Christian and philanthropic spirit of
the present Pitcairn Islanders, and at the same time bear valuable
testimony to the world-wide appreciation of Dr. Barnardo's life-work.
[Illustration: A CORNER OF THE CLOTHES STORE.
(_At Dr. Barnardo's Homes._)]
A walk through the storage rooms is amply repaid by the number and
the limitless variety of the articles to be seen therein. Here is an
organ constructed by an amateur after seven years of assiduous work.
It is unique in its way, the pipes being made of cardboard; but
whether the gift of the ingenious organ-builder was an altogether
disinterested one is not for me to state. I heard it whispered
that the cleverly constructed instrument refused to work properly,
and was somewhat of the nature of a white elephant to the present
owners. Another example of tireless ingenuity is to be seen in the
three large brass models of engines which adorn a corner of the same
room. The mechanism of these engines is perfect in every way, and
the models are of considerable value.
In close proximity to them is a dinner service of Worcester china,
dated 1794, and consisting of 150 pieces. This will doubtless soon
be "discovered" by a lover of old china, who will also see another
"find" near by equally worthy of attention. I refer to a dessert
service of seventeen pieces, which originally formed a wedding
present before it found its way to Stepney Causeway. The service is
more than fifty years old, and its chief value lies in the exquisite
pictures to be found on each plate. The design is different in every
case, and when it is added that the pictures are hand-painted the
munificence of the kindly donor will be recognised.
But it is impossible to give an adequate idea of the curiously mixed
contents of the stores. Cumbersome articles such as mail-carts,
rocking-horses, Bath-chairs, and water-beds will be found adjacent
to billiard balls, pipes, samples of inlaid ebony work and other
"small" goods; whilst near at hand will be found piles upon piles of
articles of dress of all sorts and conditions. It is not surprising
that a number of assistants are kept constantly employed in
receiving, listing, sorting, and selling these miscellaneous gifts,
which are sent by a grateful public as a small donation to the good
and beneficent work which has for so many years been carried on by
means of the Homes.
A. PALFREY HOLLINGDALE.
[Illustration: CLASSIFYING THE MISCELLANEOUS GIFTS.
(_A View at Stepney Causeway._)]
HIS STRANGE REPENTANCE.
AN ADDRESS TO YOUNG MEN.
By the Venerable Archdeacon Madden.
[Illustration: (_Photo: Elliott and Fry, Baker Street, W._)
ARCHDEACON MADDEN.]
It was close upon midnight. I was alone in my study, busy clearing
off a pile of letters that had been waiting all day for a "leisure
moment." In the midst of my work a vigorous ring of the door-bell
resounded through the house, followed by such a peremptory _ran-tan_
at the knocker that I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door to
see what was the matter. There I found two rough-looking men, who
lost no time in stating their business. "We want your reverence,"
they said, "to come and see a poor young fellow who is dying; the
doctor has given him up, and he is crying out for a minister to come
and pray with him." I could not refuse such an appeal, and off I
started with the men. They led me to a narrow street in my parish
and into one of the most dingy houses in the street. After groping
my way, by the aid of lighted matches, up a dark flight of stairs, I
found the dying man in a dirty back bedroom.
He could not have been more than thirty years of age. He was propped
up in bed, and the grey look of death was upon his face.
As I entered he turned eagerly to me, and, holding out his hand,
said, "I'm dying, and I am not ready--_not ready_!"
Just as I was about to speak he suddenly gasped out, "John, John!
hand me those things on the table." John came forward and laid upon
the bed a sporting paper, a pack of cards, a set of dice, a bottle
of whisky, and some race lists.
There was a deliberation about the whole business which convinced me
that the matter had been talked over between the men. When all were
spread out in due order, the dying man again turned to me and said,
"Look, vicar, those things have been the ruin of me; and they have
been a curse to me, and I want to turn my back upon them all--I want
you to help me to do it." Again I was about to speak, when suddenly,
stooping down, he gathered them all up and thrust them into my hands
with the words "Shove them up my back." I was so staggered by the
request that I stammered out "What--what do you mean?" "I want you,"
he said, "as God's minister to shove them up underneath my shirt.
I want to put them behind my back. I want God to see that I have
done with them for ever." I did not know whether to laugh or cry. It
was all so absurd and yet so pathetic. The man was in dead earnest.
He had evidently thought over it, and meant it as an "act" of true
repentance. He was undoubtedly a man who had "come down in the
world," and it was not all ignorance.
I said to him, "I will do what you wish, but I will kneel down
first, and you will repeat a prayer after me." I knelt and he
repeated after me these words: "Father, I have sinned against
heaven and before Thee. I renounce all my sins--from the bottom of
my heart I renounce them all. Father, receive Thy prodigal son, and
forgive me for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."
I then rose from my knees and carried out his wishes. To us all in
that chamber of death it was a most solemn sacramental rite. I,
indeed, verily believed that it was the outward and visible sign of
the inward and spiritual grace of a true repentance. There I held
the things that had cursed his young manhood, ruined a promising
career, and brought him down to poverty and a premature grave; and
as I held those emblems of evil behind his back I told him of a
Saviour who "carried our sins"--upon whom the Lord had laid the
iniquities of us all.
Little by little he gasped out his tale of sin: the gambling, the
betting, and the "horsey set" he had got amongst as a youth; then
drinking and bad company; then "striding came ruin and poverty
like a weaponed warrior." Deserted, degraded, he crawled into this
wretched room, sick in mind and body, to die forsaken and forgotten
by all his old boon companions except John.
The scene of that night has left an indelible impression upon my
heart and mind. I believe the merciful God accepted that strange
outward act as an evidence of sincere repentance. To the very last
he would have us hold those instruments of sin between his shirt and
his bare back, and as I held them there he died calling upon God.
When I passed out of that house of death into the streets and the
morning light, I prayed, as I had never prayed before, that God in
His mercy might deliver this fair England of ours from the deadly
and degrading vice of gambling.
It is over ten years since my midnight visit to that gambler's
death-bed. I remember still one sentence of the ruined man: "It
doesn't pay, sir! It doesn't pay!" Aye! and even if it does pay some
few, what then? Is it not ill-gotten gain? And if so, what shall it
profit such a man, though he gain the whole world and lose his own
soul?
The vice of gambling does not stand alone. It is the mother of sins;
the sordid and the sensual too frequently go hand in hand. Lying,
blasphemy, impurity, dishonesty, trickery, double-dealing, follow in
its train.
The gambler who, by a stroke of "luck," becomes rich in an hour, is
tempted to spend his winnings in riotous living. It is with him a
case of "luxury" to-day, despair and drink to-morrow.
A general atmosphere of blackguardism seems ever to pervade the
race-course. Here is a cutting from the daily press of August last:--
"BLACKGUARDISM AT THE ALEXANDRA PARK RACES.--Fourteen
brutal assaults, committed on the Alexandra Park race-course
on Saturday afternoon, have been reported to the police, the
assaults in several cases having been accompanied by robbery.
One of the gentlemen assaulted was a professional man well
known in the neighbourhood. He was standing at a refreshment
bar in the grand stand when he was half-killed by roughs.
Another person who was assaulted was a member of the Jockey Club
staff; but many frequenters of the course were heard to express
pleasure at this, in the hope that it would lead to some better
provision being made for the exclusion of well-known roughs from
the rings and stands."
I have seen more than one young man of my acquaintance stand in the
felon's dock, and I know they were brought there by betting. I have
heard the wail of wife and children in the court as the culprit was
hurried from the dock to his cell. And what was left for him to do
when he was released from prison? Who will employ a man with the
stigma of "imprisonment for dishonesty" resting upon him? He sinks
lower and lower, dragging his poor wife and has little children down
with him in his degrading descent--down to abject misery.
"In addition, too, to the frightful injustice to wives and children
caused by betting and gambling, and the results on the home life,"
says a recent Report of the Convocation of York, "they have an
injurious effect on those who are addicted to them, deadening
their spiritual life, and making them indifferent to higher joys
and nobler pursuits while the passion lasts. An example of this is
afforded by Greville, who, in his memoirs, says: 'Thank God! the
races are over. I have had all the excitement and worry, but have
neither won nor lost. Nothing but the hope of gain would induce me
to go through the demoralising drudgery, which I am aware reduces
me to a level of all that is most disreputable and despicable,
for my thoughts are eternally absorbed in them. It is like
dram-drinking; having once begun, you cannot leave it off, though I
am disgusted all the time with my occupation.'"
And it is useless, my brother, to juggle with your conscience in
this matter. Gambling is a vice, whether it be for penny points or
for "ponies." The question of the amount of the bet has nothing to
do with the sin of gambling. The principle is what we look at.
"The wrong of gambling lies not in the excessive indulgence in an
intrinsically innocent practice, but in the surrender to chance
of acts which ought to be controlled by reason alone, and decided
by the will in accordance with the moral laws of justice or
benevolence."
Brother men! shun this vice. It is the certain road to ruin. Do not
be lured to your doom by this terrible fascination. Shake off its
spell, renounce its tyranny: "It doesn't pay! It doesn't pay!"
[Illustration: "It doesn't pay, sir! It doesn't pay!"]
It is an accursed thing. It degrades the mind, it demoralises the
whole moral being, and, if not renounced, means everlasting ruin.
This is no time for smooth words. Gambling is a growing evil in the
land. Women and children, as well as men, have become entangled
within its meshes, and are being dragged down to perdition. It
destroys all that is noble and unselfish in the human heart. It
paralyses the will, stultifies the reason, and stifles every holy
emotion in the soul. The man who "prepares a table for fortune and
fills up mingled wine to destiny," who makes chance his idol and
gain his god, will live to curse the day of his birth. Be wise,
therefore, O ye sons of men and seek the Lord your God with all your
hearts; for "the blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth
no sorrow with it."
Told in Sunshine Room.]
[Illustration: THE PRINCE'S MESSAGE.]
A Fairy Parable. By Roma White.
Once upon a time there was a country all sweet with the honey-smell
of white clover, and all full of music with the song of birds. Rain
and wind swept it now and then; but, when they had passed the warm
joy of sunshine came again, and the shadows of sailing, snowy clouds
drifted purple over the soft green sides of the hills where the
young kids played round their quiet mothers, so that all the people
who lived in the beautiful country felt its loveliness thrill their
hearts.
But surrounding the clover-fields and the bright gardens and the
sunny meadows was a band of black darkness, and those who had passed
into the darkness never came back. Everybody who sang and laughed
and loved in the sunshine knew that some day their turn would come
to step alone into the strange country of night that girdled the
land like an impenetrable curtain; and sometimes one or another
would come and look sadly and tearfully on the darkness, and then
turn back with bowed head, and try to forget it. And sometimes a
sound of low, sad singing would approach it, and men and women,
with tears running down their faces, would accompany some dear one,
whose time in the bright country was finished, to the edge of the
silent darkness and watch him pass away into it, never to return;
and though they held out beseeching hands after him, and strained
their sight that they might perceive whither he had gone, the
darkness never gave up its secret; only continued to lie, hushed and
mysterious, round the land where the apple-blossom budded and the
young lambs played.
Now the King of the country had seven daughters and an only son. The
daughters were very beautiful, but the son was fairer than the day.
His hair was as golden as the noontime of the South, and his eyes
were blue and laughing as the summer sea, and his mother loved him
better than life, from the day when he lay in a little white and
silver cradle by her side.
The royal children played together in the gardens and courts of the
palace, and sometimes the Queen gathered them about her and told
them tales of the fairies and the dewy rings which they danced into
greenness on summer nights; or she would tell them of brave kings
who had done their duty, and loving queens whose names had been
blessed by their subjects. And the children would ask questions
about the dark belt that encircled the country, of which they had
heard, but which they had never seen. And then the Queen would shake
her head and fold her arms tightly about them one by one, but the
child that she pressed most closely to her was her only boy.
But one day a great fear fell upon the kingdom, and all the palace
was hushed and still. It was told that the little Prince's days
were numbered, and that he must soon pass away. And a few hours
later twilight fell over the land, and through the twilight came
the solemn steps of mourners and the sound of tears. And the lilies
bent their white heads, and the roses nestled sadly together among
their green leaves as the royal procession swept wailing by through
the dusk. And for a few moments a child's voice spoke, and then
it ceased as the little Prince went bravely away, alone, into the
darkness, and those who had loved him were left behind.
[Illustration: The little Prince went bravely ... into the darkness.]
They returned by-and-by to the palace, and the King took up his
royal duties again, and the seven Princesses went back to their
lessons and to their play. Sometimes they would talk, with sudden
sobs, of their brother, and then they would forget him while tending
to their flowers and watching the wild birds on the wing. The King,
too, now and then, would rest his face upon his hands, and be very
silent for a while. But his kingdom claimed him, and he had not the
time always in which to mourn.
Only the Queen never forgot, for the little Prince had been her
only son. Night after night she went alone to the edge of the
darkness, and tried to pierce it with her longing eyes, and to beat
it away with her mother's hands; but it was always motionless and
impassable, and seemed to extend into endless night.
But one evening, as she knelt there, quiet for very weariness,
there came a sweet smell through the dusk, as if the spices of wild
thyme were crushed out by some approaching tread; and the sleeping
flowers that had hung heavily under the weight of her falling tears,
lifted their faces and unfolded their closed petals, as if they were
dreaming of the morning sun. And then, all at once, fragrance and
warmth and light were about the Queen; and, looking up, she saw the
radiant figure of a wise, quiet man.
His voice spoke to her, and she heard many echoes in it, so that it
stirred her memory strangely. It was as if she listened to the notes
of a thrush on a dewy morning, or to the south wind among the summer
trees by night.
"Why do you mourn here, all alone?" he asked her gently.
Her tones shook as she answered him.
"I am weeping for my only son, who has gone away from me into this
darkness by which we stand."
For a moment the wise man was silent; his grave, tender eyes looked
down into hers.
"You try to beat the darkness away with your hands," he said
by-and-by, "and you feel only that it is like solid rock to your
touch. You strain your sight to pierce it, and, as you gaze, you
realise its blackness, and it becomes deeper to your eyes. Why,
then, do you stay upon its margin?"
"I stay because I hope and pray that, by dwelling near it, I may
catch a glimpse of my only son; that I may hear his voice speak to
me, or feel for a moment the warm, clinging touch of his little
hands. I stay because I crave for a message from him, to tell me
that he loves me still."
Then there was pity in the wise man's eyes, and it was the sweet
pity of a mother who sees a child cry over a broken toy.
"Your son has many messages far you," he said, "but you cannot find
or read them here; and, if you stay, your eyes will soon grow too
dim to see, and the darkness will hold itself all about your heart.
Turn your face and footsteps back to your people and your king, and
seek there a message from your son which shall speak of consolation."
The Queen was silent then, and her feet and hands were still. She
looked up at the wise, quiet man, and, as she looked, she saw that
his eyes were like those of the child who had passed away, and she
caught at the hem of his robe with trembling fingers.
[Illustration: "My sentence is--Forgiveness!"]
"Who are you?" she cried. "Who are you, with your wise words, and
your eyes like those of my son, who was but a little, little child?"
Then into the face of the man came a wonderful look, so that the
Queen, seeing it, bent her head and bowed her forehead upon her
hands. And it seemed to her, for a moment, as if strange sweet
scents blew to her, and the darkness broke away into long alleys of
light and bloom. And then there was a hush, and when she looked up
again the wise man was gone.
But she remembered that he had given her the sweetest promise in the
world--the promise of a message from her only son; and, believing
him, she went away from the belt of darkness, and turned again to
the palace, to her children, and to her king.
And as she passed along the road she came across a poor cripple who
had fallen and hurt himself by the way. His wounds bled, and he
looked up at the Queen with wistful eyes. So she went, herself, to
the nearest stream to fetch water for him, and she gave him some to
drink, and bound up the poor bruises, and soothed him with gentle
words. And as she tended him, she forgot for a moment the darkness
into which her son had passed, and only remembered that the land, in
spite of its beauty, was full of suffering and tears, and that she
had her work to do among her people; and she looked with her shining
mother's eyes into the cripple's face, and bade him be comforted.
And then, all at once, a wonderful thing happened. The cripple
spoke, in faltering tones, to thank her; and his voice thrilled her,
for it was the voice of her little son.
Wondering and grave, the Queen passed on. Some blue butterflies flew
by, circling in the still air. As she looked at them her heart was
suddenly stirred to reverence and gratitude and joy for the beauty
of their silken burnished wings. And as the thrill of tenderness
shook her, it seemed, all at once, as if a glow were across her
path, and as if, through the glow, she heard the child-laughter of
the little Prince who had passed away.
And so it happened, day after day, as the weeks sped by. Whenever
the heart of the Queen was stirred to holiness by deeds and thoughts
which were true and lovely and pure there came to her all the tender
sweetness of memory and of communion, so that she knew that beyond
the darkness her little son still sent his thoughts to her in love.
But whenever she went to the belt of gloom to weep his voice was
silent, and it seemed to her as if he had gone away for ever.
And one day there came a strange beggar to the palace gates, with
wild, wicked eyes and hatred of all men in his heart; and he had
sworn to injure the King because the King was great and good. He
kept his vow, and struck at the kind King as he was passing through
the gates. But the Queen saw the raised dagger, and sprang in front
of her husband, so that she received the blow herself.
Then the Queen lay in strange silent illness, and the court met to
judge the deed. The beggar crouched, terrified and trembling, before
them; but, ere sentence could be given, a sweet woman's voice bade
those who condemned him to pause, and the judges saw that the Queen
had risen from her bed of sickness and stood among them.
"Wait!" she cried, "wait! I, who have borne the pain, must speak the
sentence."
She paused, and, crossing to the beggar, laid her hand upon his head.
"My sentence is--Forgiveness!"
Her voice rang out like a sweet silver trumpet in the court-room,
and everybody was very still. Then, all at once, the beggar burst
into tears.
But nobody else spoke or moved. Only the tears of the beggar flowed
down until they made a tiny crystal pool, and the Queen, who bent
over him, saw into the pool as into a mirror.
And she beheld the margin of the country and the deep black fog
which lay beyond; and as she looked, the fog broke away into long
gleaming alleys of flowers with shining mists above them, as if of
a rising sun, and, among the bloom, the face of the little Prince
smiled fully upon her once again.
Then, all at once, she heard the voice of the wise, quiet man, and
she perceived that he stood again by her side.
"What does it all mean?" she asked him breathlessly; "what does it
all mean?"
The beggar, whose face was pressed to the hem of her robe; the
court, who still remained hushed and motionless; and the King, whose
eyes reverenced her, all waited for the wise man's reply. It came to
them softly, like the murmur of pine needles in a south wind.
"There can be no Death where there is Love."
[Illustration: decorative]
[Illustration: Our Roll of Heroic Deeds
We record this month a signal act of heroism which took place a
few years ago in a coal-pit near Dalkeith. The mine was suddenly
flooded, a vast volume of water rushed through the workings, and
it was only after some hours of dangerous and most difficult work
that the imprisoned miners were rescued. It was then discovered
that Walker, a boy of twelve, had been left behind, and immediately
James Nolans volunteered to save him. Nolans had to be forcibly
pushed through the rushing torrent by some of his comrades; then he
had to grope about under the water to find a rail which he used for
the purpose of guidance, and, after narrowly escaping death from
drowning, he eventually discovered the terrified lad. Even then it
was doubtful whether they would escape alive; but after a plucky
dash through the water, and by the help of some old ladders hastily
fastened together, they managed to regain their comrades, who never
expected to see them again.]
[Illustration: musical score]
Rise, Gracious God, and Shine.
_Words by_ WILLIAM HURN, 1813. _Music by_ H. WALFORD DAVIES, MUS.D.
(_Organist of the Temple Church._)
_With majesty._
1. Rise, gracious God, and shine
In all Thy saving might!
And prosper each design,
To spread Thy glorious light:
Let healing streams of mercy flow,
That all the earth Thy truth may know.
Amen.
2. O bring the nations near,
That they may sing Thy praise;
Let all the people hear
And learn Thy gracious ways:
Reign, mighty God, assert Thy cause,
And govern by Thy righteous laws.
3. Put forth Thy glorious power;
The nations then will see!
And earth present her store
In converts born to Thee.
God, our own God, His Church will bless,
And earth will teem with fruitfulness.
N.B.--The last verse should be sung _ff_ in unison.
TEMPERANCE NOTES AND NEWS.
By a Leading Temperance Advocate.
THE CARE OF THE INEBRIATE.
The present year has brought into operation a new Act of Parliament
dealing with the habitual drunkard. The unfortunate men and women
of the type of the notorious Jane Cakebread have been the despair
of stipendiary magistrates for years past. At the time of writing
the working of the new Act has not settled into shape, so it is all
too early to forecast its probable results. Meanwhile we tender our
congratulations to Dr. Norman Kerr, F.L.S., for it is to this humane
and philanthropic physician we are indebted for anything like an
intelligent treatment of the confirmed dipsomaniac. Dr. Kerr was
born at Glasgow in 1834, and graduated at Glasgow University in
1861. While yet a student he took a keen interest in temperance and
established a society for his fellow-students. From that time to
the present, his active services to the reform have been steadily
maintained. He takes a prominent part in the work of the Church
of England Temperance Society, the United Kingdom Alliance, and
the National Temperance League. It is, however, as an authority on
dipsomania that he is best known. He is the founder and President
of the Society for the Study and Cure of Inebriety, and it was at
his instigation that a highly successful Colonial and International
Congress on Inebriety was held in Westminster Town Hall in July,
1887. Dr. Kerr has written largely on the subject, and his learned
work on "Inebriety: Its Etiology, Pathology, Treatment, and
Jurisprudence," speedily passed into several editions. He is almost
as well known in the United States as at home. The gist of Dr.
Norman Kerr's views may be best indicated by the opening sentence of
the volume referred to. He writes:--
"No _disease_ is more common than inebriety, and yet none is so
seldom recognised. No _disease_ is more widespread. In the whole
circle of even an extensive acquaintance it may happen that no
member has been known to have suffered from any of the leading
diseases which prevail in our islands, that no one has been laid
low by phthisis or cancer. But there are very few families in the
United Kingdom which have not had at least one relative who has been
subject to inebriety."
[Illustration: (_Photo: William Whiteley, Bayswater, W._)
DR. NORMAN KERR.]
ANOTHER GOOD IDEA.
The latest new effort to popularise temperance amongst women is a
scheme prepared by the Durham and Northumberland County Union of
the British Women's Temperance Association. It takes the form of a
summer school to be opened at Barnard Castle, where ladies may study
temperance in its scientific aspects, and receive various aids as
to the methods of imparting this knowledge. The forenoons will be
given to lectures, the afternoons to recreation, excursions, etc.
Full particulars may be obtained from Mrs. Richardson, The Gables,
Newcastle-on-Tyne.
BEER IN THE HAY AND HARVEST FIELDS.
This is an age of specialists, and Mr. John Abbey is certainly the
specialist of the temperance propaganda in relation to agriculture.
The son of a yeoman, he very early turned his attention to the
importance of "soberising" our harvest fields. By his writings,
his speeches, and the invention of teetotal drinks called Stokos,
Hopkos, and Cokos, he has gradually produced a wonderful change in
agricultural circles. It is Mr. Abbey's habit to go the round of
the agricultural shows in their season, where he pitches his tent,
in which he dispenses his drinks, distributes his literature, and
discusses "the why and because" of his movement with all and sundry.
From the many letters received by him, we are permitted to quote one
from a correspondent who farms seven hundred acres:--
"I am glad to tell you that we have done harvest without a drop of
beer being given to the men, and they appear to like Stokos better
this year than ever. They usually had eight gallons or more a day,
and worked well with it, and throughout the excessive heat we had
not a man ill. Years ago the men would get beer into the field,
and there was a great deal of drunkenness among them, but now I
am thankful to say that Stokos has, by virtue of its excellent
qualities, practically _driven the beer out of the field_, and work
goes on delightfully."
[Illustration: (_Photo: A. E. Coe, Norwich_)
MR. JOHN ABBEY.]
It may be mentioned that this agricultural work is only a detail of
Mr. Abbey's life, for he is the Organising Secretary of the Church
of England Temperance Society for Norwich Diocese, having previously
held a similar appointment far many years in Oxford Diocese.
[Illustration: MR. ABBEY'S TENT AT THE NORFOLK AGRICULTURAL SHOW.
(_Distributing Temperance Drinks._)]
COMING EVENTS.
On April 13th a concert will be given at Stafford House, under the
patronage of H.R.H. the Duchess of York, in aid of the Church of
England Temperance Society Juvenile Union. On April 19th the annual
meeting of the Guild of Hope will be held at Grosvenor House, the
Duke of Westminster in the chair. On May 1st the annual meeting of
the National Temperance League will be held in Exeter Hall, the
Archbishop of Canterbury presiding. In July there will be two fêtes
at the Crystal Palace--one on the 5th by the National Temperance
Choral Society, and the other on the 29th, under the direction of
the Church of England Temperance Society.
"GIVE THE BOY A CHANCE."
During the past decade the Church of England Temperance Society has
developed a wonderful leaning towards practical effort. Its Police
Court Mission has been of incalculable service, and has received the
hearty recognition of such able magistrates as the late Mr. Montagu
Williams, Sir John Bridge, Mr. A. de Rutzen, and others. The Police
Court Missionaries have for some time been gravely concerned as to
what to do with young boys brought up for their first offences.
Last June the Church of England Temperance Society established a
Boys' Shelter Home at Gunnersbury. To this institution boys are now
remitted instead of to prison. Here they have a chance of learning
some useful industry, situations are found for them, and they are
thus given a new start in life. The Bishop of London opened the
Home, which is managed under the direction of a small sub-committee
of the London Diocesan Church of England Temperance Society.
[Illustration: THE BOYS' SHELTER HOME.
(_Established by the Church of England Temperance Society for first
offenders._)]
[Illustration: (_Photo: Debenham and Gould, Bournemouth._)
MR. ROBERT SAWYER.]
AMONG THE RAILWAY MEN.
One of the most interesting, and certainly one of the most useful,
temperance organisations, specially catering for a distinct class
of workers, is the United Kingdom Railway Temperance Union. It
commenced in a very humble way in 1882, and in a sense owes its
origin to Mr. S. Cutler, an earnest man employed by the Metropolitan
Railway Company, who approached the Church of England Temperance
Society to see if something could be done to bring together the
different railway men who were in sympathy with temperance work.
As the result of a conference, the Union was started, and it has
remained in connection with the Church of England Temperance
Society ever since. To-day it has branches on nearly every line
of railway in the United Kingdom; and every grade of the service,
from the influential director down to the humble bookstall lad, is
represented in the membership. The railway men were fortunate in
securing the interest of Mr. Robert Sawyer, Recorder of Maidenhead,
at the commencement of their operations, for besides contributing
very largely from his purse, Mr. Sawyer, as President of the Union,
practically devotes his life to the interests of railway men. He
is literally "in journeyings oft," and has a most able lieutenant
in Mr. A. C. Thompson, the first and only Secretary of the Union.
The railway men run a little temperance journal of their own,
appropriately entitled _On the Line_. One has only to glance through
its attractive pages to see that the Union is very much alive.
For those who are employed on railways temperance is certainly an
excellent thing, and there can be no doubt also that the safety of
the travelling public is helped not a little by the hard work of Mr.
Sawyer and his cheery comrades.
[Illustration: SCRIPTURE LESSONS FOR SCHOOL AND HOME
INTERNATIONAL SERIES]
With Illustrative Anecdotes and References.
=MARCH 19TH.--Christ the Good Shepherd.=
_To read--St. John x. 1-16. Golden Text--Ver. 11._
Last lesson showed Christ as source of _light_--giving sight to the
eyes and heart of blind man; to-day's shows Him as "Love," the Good
Shepherd, giving His life for His sheep.
I. =Christ the Door of the Fold= (1-10). _Connection_ with healing
of blind man.
Pharisees were bad shepherds--he found the true.
They drove him away--Christ the Good Shepherd took him into His fold.
_Explanation_ of the different parts of the parable.
The sheepfold--Christ's Church on earth (ver. 16).
The door--Christ Himself, the only way to God.
The sheep--the people of Christ (Ps. c. 2).
The shepherds--God's ministers, feeding and leading the flock (1
Pet. v. 2) in the right way.
The porter--God's Spirit opening hearts to Christ.
_Illustration_: Christ is as a Good Shepherd. How?
He comes to the sheep in the fold. He calls by name, and goes before
to lead them. They recognise voice, trust Him, and follow.
_Contrast_ between Christ and the Pharisees. They are robbers (St.
Matt. xxiii. 14, etc.), blind guides, hypocrites, leading men to
ruin. Now thirsting to kill Him. Christ is the way of salvation.
Thief _takes_ life; shepherds _protect_ life. He _gives_ life, here
and hereafter.
_Application._ Whosoever believeth in Him shall have everlasting
life.
II. =Christ the Good Shepherd= (11-16). _His name._
Good, _i.e._ beautiful, noble, loving. He is _perfect_ in contrast
with imperfect ministers; _true_ as opposed to false; _good_ as
giving His life. Mere hirelings desert the flock in danger.
_His work._ Knows each intimately--cares for wants. Dies that they
may be saved. Seeks wanderers. Folds all safely in fold at last.
=Lessons.= The privileges of Christ's flock.
1. _Safety_ in the fold of His Church.
2. _Succour_ in time of want and danger.
3. _Sympathy._ They know Him, and He knows them.
=Christ the Door.=
It is said that the ancient city of Troy had but one way of
entrance. In whatever direction the traveller went, he would find
no way into the city but the one which was legally appointed, and
the only one which was used by those who went in and out. There is
only one right way to the favour of God, to the family of God, to
the presence of God in prayer, and, finally, to the City of God in
eternity, and that one way is Christ. "I am the way," He declares,
"and no man cometh unto the Father but by Me."
MARCH 26TH.--Review Lesson.
_Golden Text--St. John x. 27._
Christ's divine nature been seen in twelve lessons with the results
ensuing therefrom.
I. =True Light= (i. 1-14). Showing Father's eternal glory, power,
wisdom. Dwelling as man among men to lighten their souls.
II. =First Disciples= (i. 29-42). Divinity testified by God's voice
at His baptism. Faith shown by new disciples who saw Lamb of God.
III. =First Miracle= (ii. 1-11). Divinity shown by almighty power
and glory in sympathy.
IV. =First Convert= (iii. 1-17). Christ as Teacher unfolds divine
mysteries. He knows for He has seen. Nicodemus, a Pharisee, believes.
V. =First Samaritan= (iv. 5-26). Divinity shown by omniscience.
Gives water of life. Samaritan woman and others believe.
VI. =First Child= (iv. 46-54). Christ gives fresh life to sick
child. Nobleman believes.
VII. =Christ's Authority= (v. 17-29). Shares Father's counsels.
Appointed Judge. All men honour Him.
VIII. =Multitude Fed= (vi. 1-14). He Who made world, supplies His
people's wants. As God, He multiplies food; as Man, cares for and
sympathises.
IX. =Feast of Tabernacles= (vii. 14, 28-39). Christ as God, gives
life, also refreshment (like water) to soul by Holy Ghost. Thus,
Three Persons in Godhead share work of man's salvation.
X. =Freeing from Sin= (viii. 13, 31-36). Divine power alone can free
from bondage of sin and Satan. This Christ gives. Many believed on
Him.
XI. =Healing Blind= (ix. 1-11). Christ's divine light opens eyes and
heart. Blind man saved.
XII. =Good Shepherd=. Christ, Himself God, the way to God. Gives
life by laying down His life. One fold, one flock, one Shepherd.
=Lessons=. 1. Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.
2. No man cometh to the Father but by Me.
3. Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief.
Christ, Lord of All.
During the last moments of a godly woman, speech had left her;
but she managed to articulate the word "Bring." Her friends, in
ignorance of her meaning, offered her food, but she shook her
head, and again repeated the word "Bring." Thinking she desired
to see some absent friends, they brought them to her; but again
she shook her head; and then, by a great effort, she succeeded
in completing the sentence--
"Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown Him Lord of all"--
and then passed away to be with Jesus.
APRIL 2ND.--Raising of Lazarus.
_To read--St. John xi. 32-45. Golden Text--Ver. 25._
Gospel began with miracle at joyful family gathering. To-day's
lesson tells of sad gathering of family and friends at a funeral. He
would again show divine power.
I. =Death Triumphant= (32-37). _Scene of sorrow_ at Bethany, two
miles from Jerusalem. Little family, Lazarus and two sisters. Had
received Christ before (St. Luke x. 38). Now the breadwinner has
been taken ill and dies. Sickness, death, bereavement, all causes
of sorrow and sadness. Had sent for Christ, but He had delayed to
come (ver. 6). At last He arrives, but body had been buried. Martha
meets Him first (ver. 21), then Mary. Both utter same reproach--had
He been in time, their brother need not have died. Their faith weak.
Thought of Him as Good Physician--did not fully realise His almighty
power. How did this affect Christ? He was troubled, He sighed, He
wept. His best friends not yet learned Who He was and what His
power. To them sorrow, suffering, death, seemed to have triumphed.
Was it so?
II. =Death Vanquished= (38-44). _Scene of joy._ A Conqueror of
death is there. See actions of the different people. _Christ_
commands removal of stone. _Martha_ remonstrates--the body begun
to corrupt--four days dead (no coffin, only wrapped in linen).
Showed unbelief, after Christ's words (ver. 23). _Mary_ watches in
silence, trusting in Christ to do right. _Jews_, expectant, roll
away the stone as bidden. Then Christ speaks; thanks God for hearing
His prayer; cries aloud to Lazarus. The dead man comes forth, is
released from grave-clothes, and restored to his home. Death is
swallowed up in victory.
_Result._ Many of the Jews believed. God's glory is manifested.
=Lessons.= 1. _Christ a loving Friend._ Can be touched with the
feeling of our infirmities.
2. _Christ a living Saviour._ Taught Martha, comforted Mary,
restored Lazarus. Gives eternal life.
Faithful unto Death
In the excavations made at the buried city of Pompeii, the
remains of a Roman soldier were found at one of the gates.
Embedded in the once molten lava which swept down upon the
doomed city was found the skeleton of the soldier whose post
of duty was at the gate, still grasping a sword in its bony
fingers. When the panic came upon the city, and those who could
made good their escape, he had remained faithful to his sense
of duty, and with resolute courage faced a fearful death. The
Christian soldier can face death with equal courage, for he has
obtained victory over sin and death through Jesus Christ his
Lord.
APRIL 9TH.--The Anointing in Bethany.
_To read--St. John xii. 1-11. Golden Text--St. Mark xiv. 8._
Christ again at Bethany, preparing for His sufferings and death.
Chief priests and Pharisees took counsel to kill Him (xi. 53). His
friends gather in numbers to give Him a public welcome.
I. =Christ's Friends= (1-3, 7-9). _The feast._ Took place at
Bethany, at house of Simon, once a leper. The family of Bethany
all present--showed their regard for Christ in different ways.
_Lazarus_, honoured guest, at the table with Him. _Martha_ giving of
her skill in house-keeping (St. Luke x. 38). _Mary_ giving a costly
present.
_The anointing._ Mary comes behind Christ--having fetched an
alabaster box full of precious ointment--breaks the box, pours it
on His head (St. Mark xiv. 3) and His feet (ver. 3), wiping them
with her hair. The house is filled with sweet smell. Why did she do
this? _It was an act of love._ Christ had done much for them--stayed
with them, above all restored their brother to life. Another
reason: Christ had lately spoken of His death as soon coming. This
thought quickened her love to intensity. She must give it outward
expression. She had kept it for His burial (ver. 7), but gives it
now. _It was an act of self-denial._ Did not stay to count the cost,
to think how little she need give. Gave the best gift she had. Would
keep back nothing from Him. _The act was approved and accepted._ She
did what she could.
=Lessons.= 1. Christ's death draws men's hearts (xii. 32). Therefore
send the Gospel to all.
2. True love delights in self-denial. Deny self, take up cross and
follow Christ.
3. Offerings accepted by God. Alms as well as prayers come before
Him (Acts x. 4).
II. =Christ's Enemies= (4-6, 10, 11). _Judas_ grudges the
gift--calls it waste--professes zeal for the poor. What was his real
motive? Covetousness. Had been made treasurer of monies given to
and spent by Christ and apostles. Hoped to get something out of it
for himself. Was it waste? Gifts given to Christ cannot be wasted.
Others will take note and copy. This loving gift has led multitudes
to do what they can. Missionaries to give up lives for Christ, many
to give money, work, service, etc. Even cup of water only given for
His sake rewarded.
_Chief priests._ Consult out of envy to kill Lazarus. His rising led
many to believe in Christ. Their power became less.
=Lesson.= Take heed, and beware of covetousness.
Which are we: friends or foes of Christ?
Give the Best you have to God.
It matters not how poor the offering, if given in the right
spirit. A legend tells how once a little boy in church had no
money to place among the offerings. So he gave a rosy apple, the
only gift he had it in his power to offer. Presently, when the
alms were removed, there was found among them an apple of gold.
The simplest gift is in the sight of God as pure gold.
[Illustration: SHORT ARROWS
Notes of Christian Life & Work]
Our New Waifs.
In accordance with the announcement in our December number, we left
it entirely to our readers to select the new QUIVER waifs.
All the votes have now been received, and arranged, with the result
that Rose Heelis heads the list of the candidates for Miss Sharman's
Orphan Home, whilst John Harrison is the successful candidate for
Dr. Barnardo's Home.
[Illustration: JOHN HARRISON.
(_The new Quiver Waif at Dr. Barnardo's Home._)]
Our readers will doubtless be interested in the portrait of each
to be found on this page, but it is unnecessary to repeat the
particulars concerning these little ones which were given at the
time we invited the votes. The support of the new waifs will involve
a total annual expenditure of £31 (£15 for Rose Heelis and £16
for John Harrison), and for this amount we are relying upon the
generosity of our readers. Contributions to the special Waifs' Fund
will be gladly received, and duly acknowledged month by month in
our pages. Such contributions should be addressed to the Editor of
THE QUIVER, La Belle Sauvage, Ludgate Hill, London, E.C. A
list of the donations to the fund during the month of January will
be found on page 480.
Stooping to Conquer.
A peculiar feature connected with the Ancient and Honourable
Artillery Company of Boston is that each officer, at the end of
his term of command, which lasts a year, returns to the ranks as
a private; thus there are something like a score of gentlemen who
have had full control of the regiment, and who are now once more
content to obey. Here is a lesson for those who serve in the Church
Militant. We cannot all be colonels and generals--there must be a
few private soldiers!--and it is certain that he who cannot obey
is not fit to command. Much energy and temper is wasted by those
who fight against sin and sorrow through unwillingness to take what
is called a subordinate position. Surely this is to forget the
Saviour's words--"If any man desire to be first, the same shall be
last of all, and servant of all."
[Illustration: ROSE HEELIS.
(_The new Quiver Waif at Miss Sharman's Home._)]
The "Welcome."
Sixteen years ago, the first restaurant for women in the City of
London was started at 16, Jewin Street. The "Welcome" was opened in
a five-storeyed house in the very midst of factories. It is now the
centre of help of every kind for a class brought before the public
in Sir Walter Besant's "Children of Gibeon." Hundreds of women
frequent this place to refresh their jaded and chilled bodies with
soup and bread at three halfpence or excellent meat-puddings at
twopence. In cases of distress and starvation free dinner tickets
are granted. Who can tell how many women this aid has saved from
crime when hunger has driven them to the verge of stealing? The
work of the "Welcome" is not limited to care for the bodies of City
toilers. Three rooms are used for dinner and tea, three others for
evening classes of various kinds. From six to half-past nine clubs,
musical drill, sewing and improvement classes, services of song,
missionary or Gospel temperance meetings, attract an attendance
averaging from 270 to 300. The largest number come on Thursday
evening, which is devoted to Bible classes. To many whose days are
spent in hot workrooms the shady gardens lent on Saturdays by kind
friends are like a new world. One girl asked if she could see the
strawberry trees; another, why the bunches of grapes were tied to
the top of glass-houses. The revelation of a new world outside their
own limited sphere helps to raise the ambition to live a new and
higher life.
[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._)
IN THE "WELCOME" CLUB AT MIDDAY.]
"Nobody's Own."
Many regiments in the British army are called after and said to be
owned by this or that prince or princess. There is "The Princess of
Wales's Own," "Princess Charlotte's Own," and so on. One regiment,
however, rejoices in the nickname of "Nobody's Own," because it
is not named after anybody. It is a grand thing to think that no
Christian can be called "Nobody's Own," for we are all called after
Christ and owned by our Father in heaven.
New Books.
Elsewhere in this number will be found an illustrated article on
"Childish Memories of Lewis Carroll," and we venture to think that
readers of those reminiscences will require no pressing to turn to
the biography of this universally favourite author, just published
by Mr. Fisher Unwin under the title "The Life and Letters of Lewis
Carroll." Mr. S. D. Collingwood, who is responsible for the work,
frankly admits that it is impossible to give a really adequate
presentation of the extraordinarily complex character of his late
uncle. He has, however, produced a most able and interesting sketch,
which includes many characteristic letters, and is profusely
illustrated. Quite a different life-story is also before us in
the form of the Rev. George Adam Smith's biography of his friend,
the late Professor Henry Drummond (Hodder and Stoughton). No one
could lay down this book without feeling that Drummond was in every
sense a great man--with a great intellect, a great heart, and a
constant, burning desire to be about his Father's business. It is
true that he made mistakes, that he put forth certain theories not
generally acceptable, and which he himself modified in later years,
but throughout his life his honesty of purpose was unquestionable.
His influence and power as a preacher and teacher were remarkable,
and many of those whom he reached through his addresses and books
will feel indebted to Dr. Smith for this critical and comprehensive
story of his life.--From Messrs. Smith, Elder and Company comes a
new story from our own contributor, Katharine Tynan, entitled "The
Dear Irish Girl," of which we need say no more than that it is the
love story of a most winning Irish lassie, written in the bright,
entertaining style so well-known to our readers.--"Helps to Godly
Living" (Elliot Stock) is the happy title of an excellent little
work which consists of helpful and comforting extracts from the
writings and addresses of the present Archbishop of Canterbury,
selected and arranged by the Rev. J. H. Burn, B.D.--A pathetic
interest attaches to the two dainty volumes of poems by the late
Dr. J. R. Macduff, entitled "Matin and Vesper Bells" (Cassell), in
that the author did not live to see their completion. Many of the
poems have been already published independently in various forms,
but we believe that this collected edition of Dr. Macduff's tender
and inspiring verse will be heartily welcomed.--We have also to
acknowledge the receipt of a tastefully produced volume entitled
"The More Excellent Way" (Henry Frowde), in which the Hon. Mrs.
Lyttelton Gell has carefully arranged the choicest extracts from
the works of ancient and modern authors on "The Life of Love"; a
collection of addresses on the Beatitudes by the Rev. J. R. Miller,
D.D., entitled "The Master's Blesseds" (Hodder and Stoughton); an
interesting and instructive work on medical missionary work amongst
the blind in India, entitled "They Shall See His Face" (Bocardo
Press, Oxford); "Aids to Belief" (Elliot Stock), a series of studies
on the divine origin of Christianity by the Rev. W. H. Langthorne;
and a volume of sermons by the late Charles H. Spurgeon, which have
been published by Messrs. Passmore and Alabaster under the title
"The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit."
A Wolf-Boy.
[Illustration: (_Photo supplied by the Missionary Leaves Association._)
AS A BOY. THE WOLF-BOY OF SECUNDRA. AS A MAN.]
What was to be done with such a boy! The magistrate sahib of
Bulandshahr had heard of Romulus and Remus, but rational people
rejected the legend of their infancy. Yet here was a child of five
or six years of age, crawling on the ground before him, and the
statement of several witnesses that he had been smoked out of a
wolf's den could not be disputed. These men were natives of India.
Whilst travelling in a jungle of the Bulandshahr district, they
saw a queer though undoubted specimen of humanity crawl into a
hole. By the magistrate's order a fire was lighted at the mouth.
Out sprang a snarling and indignant mother-wolf, which, after
scattering the bystanders, fled for life. Behind her ran on all
fours a little boy, who was speedily secured and conveyed to the
magistrate. He was imbecile. He would eat no food but raw meat,
and he tore any clothing placed on him into shreds. The magistrate
sent him to the Church Missionary Orphanage at Secundra, a refuge
for between four and five hundred children, nearly all infants
picked up in the streets or by the roadside. There this child,
who was found on Saturday, February 4th, 1867, grew up into
manhood. On the same principle that Robinson Crusoe called his man
Friday, the wolf-boy was named Sanichar, or Saturday. By degrees
a certain amount of intelligence and a decided religious instinct
developed. He became gentle and sociable, and ready with cheerful
unselfishness to share the many little presents he received with
his companions. He attached himself with great affection to one of
the caretakers. On the death of this man, Sanichar in dumb sorrow
and bewilderment looked from one to another of his friends for an
explanation. They pointed to the grave, and then to the sky. The
boy was deeply impressed, and ever afterwards, if he felt ill, he
would feign sleep, and point first to the ground and then to the
sky. He never learnt to speak, but perhaps he was trying to convey
the impression that he looked forward to following his dear friend.
Two other wolf-boys and one wolf-girl were brought to the Secundra
orphanage, but they died soon afterwards. Whether they had been cast
out by their parents or kidnapped by the inveterate robber-wolves
of the district could not be discovered. They were a witness that
tenderness, too often lost in heathenism, may be found in one of
the most rapacious beasts. With hundreds of little outcasts under
Christian care, they tell of a Father above who remembers even
though parents may forget their children.
[Illustration: THE LOCKHART MEMORIAL.
(_In Lewisham Congregational Church._)]
Memorial to a Medical Missionary.
Medical missions have come into deservedly increasing prominence of
late years; and a few months ago a beautiful tablet was erected in
Lewisham Congregational Church to the memory of Dr. Lockhart, the
first Protestant medical missionary to China, who went out about the
year 1838. The tablet is a beautiful piece of work in alabaster and
marble, and is carved in the form of a triptych, _i.e._ in three
panels, the medallion portrait occupying the centre. On the left
hand panel appears the following inscription:--"In affectionate
memory of Dr. Lockhart, first medical missionary to China, founder
of hospitals at Macao, Shanghai and Pekin, who served the London
Missionary Society with untiring zeal for twenty-six years in the
mission field, and with unabated devotion in England to the last
day of his life. Member of this church for thirty-seven years.
Deacon and Church Secretary. Born October 3rd, 1811. Died April
29th, 1896." The following inscription appears on the right hand
panel:--"This memorial is erected by those who admired him as a
strong man, loved him as a friend, hold his services in grateful
memory, and who pray that his zeal for missions and his devotion
to the Church may inspire all who shall ever worship within these
walls." The tablet is placed on the wall of the church near the
vestry door, where Dr. Lockhart used often to stand before the
service, watching the people enter.
Self-control.
A man who lately came over from America told the writer that on
board the steamer one of the passengers went up to another in the
smoking-room and asked him to have a drink with him. The man thus
invited continued reading a newspaper and made no reply. The other
man again asked him to drink with him. No answer again. A third
invitation was then given in these words: "Sir, I have asked you in
as friendly a way as possible to drink with me, and each time you
went on with your reading, and had not the civility to answer me.
Now I ask you for the third time if you will drink wine, whisky,
or anything else with me?" The man then put aside his paper and
answered very quietly: "Do you see that glass, sir? Well, if I were
to take even a quarter of it, I could not leave off until I had
drunk all the liquor on board. This is why I would not drink with
you." All present admired the man's self-control, and learned a
striking lesson on the danger of putting temptation in a brother's
way.
An Ever-Recurring Question.
Two friends of the writer were sitting in a close carriage,
discussing the problems of life--where we came from and whither we
are going. The driver of the carriage went rather too near another
vehicle. "Where are you going to?" shouted the driver of the latter.
The occupants of the carriage looked at each other and remarked,
"That is just what we were wanting to know." So it is that the great
problems of life cannot be ignored, for they are reflected in the
small incidents of daily existence. Particularly is this the case
with the question whence we came and whither we are going. This can
never be shelved.
The Circulation of the Bible.
Few people have any idea of the enormous number of Bibles published
annually in this country. Mere figures of so many millions mean
little to most folks. But it may give some more adequate idea of
the vast number to put it as follows: The British and Foreign Bible
Society, of Queen Victoria Street, alone publish above a million
and a half of Bibles every year, or more than 4,100 every day. Now,
if each of these 4,100 Bibles was of the average thickness of one
and a half inches, they would, if piled upon one another, reach to
a height of 6,159 inches. As the top of St. Paul's cross is about
364 feet or so above the level of St. Paul's Churchyard, this huge
pile of Bibles would reach to a height nearly one and a half times
as great as the top of the famous cross! Or we might represent the
whole lot by one immense Bible, which would be 66 feet by 47 feet by
14 feet, and would reach from the steps leading to St. Paul's right
to the top of the pillars there! And this would but represent the
output for a single day of only one of the great Bible circulating
mediums of this country!
[Illustration: A BIBLE 66 FT. BY 47 FT. BY 14 FT.
(_Representing one day's output of the British and Foreign Bible
Society._)]
_OUR INTERNATIONAL LEAGUE OF PEACE._
We are glad to be able to report that requests for forms are
steadily being received, and a goodly number have been returned
filled with signatures. To those of our readers who are striving
to obtain the distinction of being the first to send in a thousand
names (for which a prize of Ten Pounds is offered) we would say that
it is not necessary for all the signatures to be given together.
They should be forwarded in batches of fifty or a hundred, and
credit will be given for every name so sent. The following letter
which we have received from a correspondent at Birmingham is of
interest, as it emphasises the fact that the Ten Pounds we offer
will not only act as an incentive to activities on behalf of
peace, but may also at the same time benefit some local charity.
"Please send me," the correspondent writes, "some sheets of the
International League of Peace. If I am fortunate enough to get the
Ten Pounds, I am going to give it to some good society--whichever
our clergyman thinks best. Trusting to hear from you by return."
The following is the form in which our memorial has been issued:--
"=We, the undersigned, desire to express our earnest sympathy
with the peace proposals contained in the recent Rescript of his
Imperial Majesty the Czar of Russia, and hereby authorise the
attachment of our names to any international Memorial having for
its object the promotion of Universal Peace upon a Christian
basis.="
This may be copied at the head of blank sheets of paper, and the
signatures placed beneath; but we shall be very pleased to send
(post free) any number of printed forms on receipt of an application
addressed to the Editor of THE QUIVER, La Belle Sauvage,
London, E.C.
The objects of our League have already been endorsed, amongst other
prominent men, by the =Lord Bishop of London=, the =Rev. Hugh
Price Hughes= (President of the Wesleyan Conference), the =Rev.
Samuel Vincent= (President of the Baptist Union of Great Britain
and Ireland), and =Pastor Thomas Spurgeon= of the Metropolitan
Tabernacle.
THE QUIVER FUNDS.
The following is a list of contributions received from January 1st,
1899, up to and including January 31st, 1899. Subscriptions received
after this date will be acknowledged next month:--
For "_The Quiver_" _Waifs' Fund_: R. Hutchinson, Boston Spa, 2s.
6d.; Readers of _The Christian_, per Morgan and Scott, £5; Miss
Renée Benson, Grenoble, 1s. 6d.; J.J.E., Govan (134th donation),
5s.; A Glasgow Mother (104th donation), 1s.; E.A., 2s. 6d.;
R.S., Crouch End, 5s.
For _Dr. Barnardo's Homes_: A Scotch Lassie, 5s.; Baby George,
2s. 6d.; J.R., 5s.; E.H., Devon, 2s.; Gertie, Finsbury Park.
3s.; M.A.C, 5s., An Irish Girl, 10s. 6d.; Madame Scaravaglioné,
10s.; A.K., 5s.; A Warwickshire Lass, 5s.; Anon., 2s. The
following amounts have been sent direct:--R.H.B.P., 4s.; A.H.,
10s; M.M.Q., £5; E.A.H., 7s. 6d.; A.W.O., 4s.; M. M., 5s.;
M.E.B., 15s.; J H.W., 5s.; "Inasmuch," 6s.; T.P., Leamington, £1.
For _The Children's Country Holiday Fund_: Madame Scaravaglioné,
10s.; J. and E.H., £1.
For _Miss Weston's Homes, Portsmouth_: J. and E.H., £1.
For _The Robin Dinners_: Alice Bishop, 3s.
For _St. Mark's Hospital, City Road, E.C._: A Thank-offering, 1s.
The Superintendent of the St. Giles Christian Mission asks us
to acknowledge the receipt of a parcel of clothing from Oakham,
Rutland.
OUR FINE ART PLATES.
Doubtless many of our readers are interested in the announcement
which has been appearing for several months past on our wrapper to
the effect that certain coupons will entitle the holder to receive a
set of Fine Art Plates for a trifling sum. We desire to supplement
that announcement by stating that the pictures will be of sacred
subjects, and will, moreover, be printed on specially prepared
plate paper in order to obtain the best possible results. The
selected paintings are by Lord Leighton, Sir John Millais, Edward
Armitage, R.A., Ford Madox Brown, W. C. T. Dobson, R.A., and William
Dyce, R.A., and the series will form an admirable selection of the
best-known works of these famous artists--well worthy of a permanent
place in every home.
ROLL OF HONOUR FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL WORKERS.
The =Special Silver Medal= and =Presentation Bible= offered for the
longest known Sunday-school service in the county of =Durham= (for
which applications were invited up to January 31st, 1899) have been
gained by
MR. JOHN J. BAILEY,
Newgate Street, Barnard Castle,
who has distinguished himself by _fifty-six_ years' service,
principally in the Sunday School of the Barnard Castle Parish Church.
As already announced, the next territorial county for which claims
are invited for the _Silver_ Medal is
DEVONSHIRE,
and applications, on the special form, must be received on or before
February 28th, 1899. We may add that =Kent= is the following county
selected, the date-limit for claims in that case being March 30th,
1899. This county, in its turn, will be followed by the territorial
county of =Cheshire=, for which the date will be one month
later--viz. April 30th, 1899.
The names of members recently enrolled will be found in our
advertisement pages.
THE QUIVER BIBLE CLASS.
(BASED ON THE INTERNATIONAL SCRIPTURE LESSONS.)
QUESTIONS.
49. From what parable of our Lord do we gather that the sheepfolds
in ancient times were large and surrounded by a high fence?
50. By what illustration does our Lord teach us that it is through
Him alone we can be saved? Quote passage.
51. In what way does our Lord contrast His care of His people with
the neglect shown by the Jewish teachers?
52. Quote passage which shows that Jesus had never attended any of
the public Jewish schools?
53. In what words does our Lord speak of the Scriptures as God's
revelation of Himself to man?
54. What were the two miracles performed by our Lord at Cana of
Galilee?
55. What was especially remarkable in the miracle of raising Lazarus
from the dead?
56. What reason did our Lord give for His delay in going to Lazarus
when he was ill?
57. What was the effect of the miracle of raising Lazarus?
58. What reason have we for supposing that Simon the Leper was the
husband of Martha, the sister of Lazarus?
59. What information does St. John give as to the character of Judas
Iscariot?
60. What prophecy concerning our Lord was delivered by Caiaphas, the
High Priest?
ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 383.
37. In a desert (or uninhabited) place near Bethsaida on the
north-west side of the Sea of Galilee (St. Luke ix. 10).
38. It was known as the Sea of Chinnereth (Numb. xxxiv. 11; Josh.
xii. 3).
39. Because St. Philip was a native of the district of Bethsaida
(St. John i. 44, and vi. 5).
10. The Jews thought that Jesus was the son of Joseph the carpenter,
and born in Galilee; whereas they had been taught that no one would
know of the birthplace or parentage of the Messiah (St. John vii.
27, 41; St. Luke iv. 22).
41. They sent officers to arrest Jesus (St. John vii. 2, 32).
42. Because on the last day of the Feast special sacrifices were
offered for all Israel, and the priest, having taken water from the
Pool of Siloam, poured it upon the altar (St. John vii. 37).
43. Because they understood that, as the "Light of the World," Jesus
claimed to be the Messiah (St. John viii. 12; Isaiah ix. 2, and lx.
1).
44. "When ye have lifted up the Son of Man" (St. John viii. 28).
45. Jesus appears to have made the Jews unable to see Him, and so
passed out of the Temple, going through the midst of them (St. John
viii. 59; 2 Kings vi. 18).
46. That the disciples believed in the doctrine of "transmigration
of souls," which was taught by the Jewish Rabbis at that time (St.
John ix. 2; Josephus, "Ant." xviii. ch. 1, sec. 3).
47. By telling him to go and wash in the Pool of Siloam (St. John
ix. 7).
48. The Jews excommunicated the man whose sight Jesus had
restored--that is, they shut him out of the synagogue--thus
depriving him of all religious privileges (St. John ix. 22, 34).
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.
Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as
printed.
Missing page numbers are page numbers that were not shown in the
original text.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
paragraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match
the page number in the List of Illustrations.