EDWARD BOTT-IN MEMORIAM. 343 firmly rooted in that hilly region, and receiving a call from Barton to become co-pastor with Mr. Cotton, whom he had known at the Loughborough Academy, he accepted it, and in December, 1852, took up his residence hard by the home of her whom we, of the Midland General Baptist societies, acknowledge as "the mother of us all." There a commodious house was built for him at the church's expense, and here he continued nearly twelve years. He might have prolonged his stay but for the occurrence of one of the hardest trials of his life. The removal of his colleague created the need for another. The man who took most with the congregations was the least worthy of their preference; for while full of words, and of the self-confidence which too often captivates, he was soon found to be empty of both solid learning and sound morality. This event disturbed Mr. Bott's position, as well as distressed his mind; and made him wishful to find another sphere, which he might fill alone, without either the envy or the hindrance incident to the having of a co-adjutor. He found an agreeable change in Cheshire, at the town where Matthew Henry, by the stumbling of his horse, met with the fall which proved fatal to his precious life. At Tarporley, he remained between five and six years, when his health not being good he relinquished his place-leaving many friends to regret his departure. For a time he hesitated to undertake another charge, but was persuaded to make trial of one comparatively easy, which was offered to him at Sutterton, in Lincolnshire. For eight more years he was enabled to persevere in pastoral work, and to complete the number of forty years from the beginning. He then went to live in Leicester, to be near his only son, as well as to enjoy the abundant privileges which that town affords. There he had many opportunities of occasional preaching which he improved when health permitted; but his strength failing him, he left the town for the sake of the purer air of the country, and in Sep. 1882, settled at Syston. No improvement followed. A severe attack of jaundice, speedily followed by dropsy, with its aqueous burden, fell upon him, and at the end of May--the month of his birth-he closed his course of seventy-one years. Another coincidence may be named. His first attempt to preach was made at Barrow-upon-Soar, in 1833; his last sermon preached there in Nov. 1882. He was interred in Leicester Cemetery by Mr. Evans, of Dover Street, the brethren, W. Bishop and J. C. Forth taking part in the service. was As a minister Mr. Bott was not ambitious of power or publicity, he aspired most of all to be faithful and useful. For a man holding a public office like him, whom “the God of Israel separated, to bring the people near to himself; to do the service of the Lord; and to stand before the congregation to minister unto them," Mr. Bott lived as privately and as noiselessly as was perhaps possible. Though he attended public gatherings, and denominational assemblies, such as conferences and associations, his voice was rarely heard therein. He was a silent and self-contained man: ever diffident, sometimes nervous, and always more ready to get behind for secresy, than to come to the fore for shew, and the exercise of debating and declaiming skill. In private life he was a model of propriety-orderly in his habits-moderate in his desires-sparing in the use of what is costly-economical in spending an income which was never large, and contented to forego indulgences which many men, and some ministers, consider allowable or necessary. He was fortunate, soon after his first settlement as a pastor, in finding a wife whose tastes and manners were in agreement with his own. So that he always had a comfortable and pleasant home, which the poor of his flock could not reasonably begrudge him, and which the more wealthy were not ashamed to visit. If all men were more like him mediocrity would no longer be reputed mean, and that which is ordinary would become respectable. His life was an illustration of the letter and the spirit of the Apostolic precept: "Let no man despise thee." W. UNDERWOOD. "PARASITES OF THEIR OWN CIGARS," is the suggestive name coined by Ruskin for the young men of the fashionable modern world. Not men, but parasitesparasites of the ignoble pipe. Smokers may study their new designation with interest and profit. It is as full of meaning as a good egg of meat; and is it not as true as it is instructive? Friend or Foe? A SEQUEL TO "OLIVER RAYMOND." BY E. JOSEPH AXTON. CHAPTER IX.-THE BLOW FALLS. MR. BRADFORD prided himself on being a man of his word. What he said he would do, he did—often, right or wrong. When, therefore, stock having been taken, two gentlemen came some days later to the warehouse, no one was surprised. But he himself was not present when they came. Getting excited on the day of his visit, he had taken liberties with his foot, and had gone home only to go to bed, and be confined to it ever since. During the week, Oliver Raymond saw little of his uncle, or Elsie. The latter made several attempts to speak to him, but failed; for, his manner grown more brooding, almost morose, indeed, he cut her short with a hasty word, and was gone. So the week went on; Elsie feeling some great dread pressing on her heart; Mr. Bradford in bed, too ill to think of business or anything else; Oliver going about with a gloomy face, rushing off early in the morning, coming home long past midnight. One night, when the auditors were expected to finish their work on the morrow, Raymond was seated with Rearden in the latter's lodgings. They were both talking in very low tones, and, while Rearden's face wore an extremely anxious look, that of his companion seemed to be one of growing desperation. "Well," says Rearden at last, poking the fire thoughtfully, "you say you come for advice. But, really, I do not see what advice I can give. It seems to have gone too far. But you have not yet told me how it has come about that you are in this dangerous position? Of course, I have guessed something was wrong for some time; but you have lately been mysterious, somewhat, and so I could only guess." "You showed me a telegram," Oliver answered, with something like anger in his eyes, that week Joyce went to S to bury his aunt, and sometime ago you told me of a scheme which Wolfe had for winning at horse-racing" "What!" cried Rearden, speaking in a voice high enough to drown a knock at the front door, and the sound of the person being let in, "surely you don't mean to say you took either the telegram or my recommendation of Wolfe seriously!" "You did not say "But I did," returned Oliver, with increasing anger. they were not to be taken seriously, when you recommended them.” "Have you come here to put the blame of your difficulty on me, Raymond?" Oliver gazed in surprise at his companion. The latter's changed tone and manner was something quite new. "I mean to say, Rearden, that but for your suggestions in those two matters, I should have confined my speculations to my own money, and not risked Mr. Bradford's." "Risked Mr. Bradford's! Have you been doing that, then ?” "I have. God forgive me!" Rearden rose, with a pale but determined face. Mr. Raymond," he said, sternly, "you and I must henceforth part company. I did not dream things were taking such a turn as this, or we should have parted before From now, we do not know each other." There was a light rap at the door at this moment, but they were too excited to heed it. "What do you mean, Rearden ?" Oliver asked, unable to believe his ears. "What I say. We must part; save as business and our relative positions may bring us together. I have a good name, and I mean to keep it. I do not know, indeed, that I shall find myself able to continue to hold my present position under you" "Is this your friendship?" "I can have no friendship with one who-who so far forgets himself as you have done, according to your own words. I thought you possessed sufficient principle and honour to avoid". "Principle and honour!" Oliver's eyes gleamed with an ominous light, and his breath came short and fast. FRIEND OR FOE? 345 Keep your hands off!" warned Rearden, turning pale and taking a step back. "And get out of my place, I want no disturbance here." Oliver's excitement suddenly fled, the angry light left his eyes, his former despairing look returned, and groaning as he hung his head, "I deserve it: it is all my fault!" dashed out of the room and into the street. Rearden followed to the front door, and, after opening and closing it, became aware that Joyce was in the passage. "I have knocked three times," said the latter, in explanation. "I was just going away again, when the manager rushed out. What's the matter ?" "Matter enough," answered Rearden, with a strange look of mingled exultation and excitement on his face. They re-entered the room, and then Rearden told his companion of what had passed between Oliver and himself. For sometime the two talked together, Rearden with difficulty concealing his satisfaction, Joyce very grave and really sorry. At last, the subject becoming exhausted, the usual game at cards was proposed. In this, a little later, they were interrupted by Rearden's landlady tapping at the door, and Joyce was left alone while his friend went downstairs. "I can't help thinking," Joyce mused, "that my friend Amos could be a villain if he had the opportunity. He jeers me because I've been at the Gospel Hall lately, and people who jeer at religion are very often scoundrels. Has he been helping Raymond to go wrong? Shouldn't be surprised. Why did he praise Wolfe and his schemes-for he's done that, in my presence, to the manager, when he knows he's a vagabond?" Joyce had taken out his wooden pipe and filled it, and now picked out of the fender a little ball of paper, intending to get a light with it at the fire. But, as he spread it open, some writing on it caught his attention, and he began to examine it more closely. It was a leaf from Rearden's pocket-book, as some notes in that gentleman's hand on one side proved, while on the other-and this it was that Joyce noticed so particularly-was the name "Oliver Raymond," repeated from the top of the page to the bottom. "This is a curious thing, now," Joyce muttered, observing how like Oliver's signature the lower copies of his name were, while the top ones were bad imitations. "Looks as if someone had been practising to commit forgery." The approach of Rearden at this moment made Joyce quickly put the leaf in his pocket, after which he leisurely proceeded to get a light with something else. 'Nothing like making yourself useful to your landlady," Rearden said, lightly, as he sat down to resume the game. "She'll always think twice before she gives you notice." "Didn't you tell the manager, when you showed him that telegram from S-," Joyce said, a little latter-he had some thoughts in his mind which he felt compelled to express-" that I sent it to you in fun?" "Of course not. I got you to send it in order that that supreme scamp, Wolfe, might be taken in fairly, for once, Raymond would have let the secret out, most likely. As it is, it has revenged many a robbery Wolfe has committed, for it has crippled him, financially." ་ "Him," said Joyce, with some sarcasm. "I go down into the midst of a racing district; you get me to send you a telegram to have some fun with Wolfe,' as you say, in which I praise the very worst horse in the race, and say he will certainly win. Then you show the telegram to the manager, and he goes and ruins himself through betting on the false advice it contains." Joyce is all the while looking sarcastically at his comrade. But he grows more serious as he continues: "to tell you the truth, Rearden, I think you have acted shabbily." Rearden seems, for a moment, in doubt as to whether he shall be angry or not, and looks curiously at Joyce. Then he laughs, though there is harshness in his mirth. 'I know, my friend," he says, "that you are inclined to religion, though you won't own it. But take my advice, put those thoughts away. They're very well for old people and simple ones, but won't do if you mean getting on. If someone is fool enough to throw away a first-class chance, someone else will profit by his folly. I didn't tell Raymond to bet on the horse-he did it of his own free will. And if there is to be a change of managers, I don't see that you can grumble. We are friends now, you and I, and it lies with you whether we 346 FORWARD movemeNTS. remain so. Certainly, I think I could make your place a better one than it is now, if you are sensible." Joyce said no more on that subject-presently, indeed, he began to laugh, and try to forget. Who of us shall through the first stone at him? Who of us has not ignored the "still small voice," at some time or other, tempted to do so by a meaner object than the near prospect of a cosy home of our own, shared by the one we loved? The morrow quickly came, and with its evening the strange whisperings, the ominous rumours that had been flying about all the week, crystallized into one word, which hardly onyone dared to utter, but which found a place in every mind. Then, on that very morning, came the news that Nos. 440 and 441, Bishopsgate the two leading shops of the firm-had been burned to the ground, and that the manager had let the insurance lapse, so that not a penny for the grand buildings or the splendid stock could be recovered. How it all got about, no one knew; but everyone knew-or felt-that evening, that the firm of "Bradford and Co." was tottering to its fall. But where was the manager all that day? Since the morning, no one had seen him. The sub-manager worked hard, bustling about here and there, with swift movements and grave face, but Raymond was invisible. Had he disappeared? If he had, it would, perhaps, have been better for him. But late that night, he might have been seen by the bedside of his chief, with red cheeks and flaming eyes; with a beautiful girl standing at a distance, regarding him with horror; with Mr. Bradford turning his eyes away from him, and saying, in low tones: "Oliver, Oliver! I have been a father to you, and you have brought me to ruin. May God forgive you, as I do! And then, maddened by thought, by the expression of the white, girlish face, once lit up by the light of love for him, and by the tones of his adopted uncle, the last scene of this dreadful day may have been witnessed when, crying out that he could not ask for pardon he did not deserve, and wildly saying, goodbye for ever, he rushed out of the room and the house-into the world, with a brand like that of Cain upon him. Forward Movements—New Chapels & Schools. I. NOTTINGHAM, NEW BASFORD.-MEMORIAL STONES. NEW School-rooms are now being built in connection with the church at New Basford, of which Rev. W. R. Stevenson, M.A., is pastor. The site is an excellent one, in the new street lately formed by an extension of Duke Street. The building will comprise one large room, ten class-rooms for elder scholars, and an infant class-room, the estimated cost being £1,800. On the afternoon of Saturday, July 21, Memorial-stones were laid by L. Lindley, Esq., Mayor of Nottingham; Ald. Goldscmidt, J.P.; Mrs. Philip H. Stevenson, Mr. L. A. Clark of New Basford, and Mr. M. Chadbourne. Tea was provided in the old school-rooms, and in the evening a public meeting was held in the chapel, when Mr. Councillor Baines presided, and addresses were delivered by the Revs. J. Maden, W. M. Briggs, R. F. Griffiths; J. P. Ford, Esq., Sheriff of Nottingham, and other friends. By the gifts laid upon the stones, and the subsequent meeting, £150 were realised,-£35 of this sum being given or collected by Sunday scholars. Much enthusiasm characterised the proceedings; and for the generous sympathy they have met with, and all that they have been enabled to accomplish so far in this important undertaking, the friends at New Basford desire to thank God and take courage. II. ALLERTON, SANDY LANE. THE Mayor of Bradford, Alderman F. Priestman, laid the memorial-stone of a new chapel at Sandy Lane, Allerton, August 4. The new chapel is being built at the back of the site on which the old chapel stood. The old building was erected in 1824; but owing to its extremely dilapidated condition it was resolved to pull it down and build a more commodious chapel, with much larger frontage. It will be a rectangular building, with gable entrance and a frontage of eighteen yards from the pavement. At the entrance there will be a vestibule, with stair SCRAPS FROM THE EDITOR'S WASTE BASKET. 347 case on either side leading to the galleries, and at the rear the usual vestries for ministers and deacons, organ loft, and singers' gallery. The pews above and below will be arranged in amphitheatre form. Sitting accommodation will be provided for 450; pews and all the woodwork of pitch pine. The work is being carried out under the direction of Mr. Jarvis Benn, architect, Denholme. Mr. Chas. Sowden presided on Saturday, and amongst those present were the Revs. Watson Dyson, B. Wood, J. Taylor, formerly pastor of the church; H. C. Atkinson, J. Maylard, and W. Hambly. Mr. E. Cockcroft (Secretary to the Building Committee) made a brief statement, and hoped that they would be able to open the new chapel free of debt.-The Chairman presented the Mayor with a very handsome ivory handled silver trowel and mallet, and in a few minutes he had accomplished the work of laying the stone. He had very great pleasure in giving a cheque of £25. Addresses were afterwards delivered by the Revs. Watson Dyson, J. Taylor, Mr. J. Greenwood, Mr. T. Robertshaw, Mr. T. Baines, and others.A public tea meeting was afterwards held in the school-room, and about 300 persons sat down. The tea was followed by a public meeting, over which Alderman Isaac Smith, of Bradford, was to have presided, but he was unable to be present. Accompanying a letter of apology for his absence was a cheque for £20. Scraps from the Editor's Waste-Basket. I. SPIRITUAL ENERGY OUR FIRST NEED. The holidays are nearing their end. We are renewed in body, renovated in energy, and have already sent our thoughts forward to the work of the coming season. The sound of prepara We tions for fuller service is in the air. II. LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION.-One of our pastors sends the following extract of a letter received from a member absent for six months:-"Your letter of introduction to the church at Deal has been very useful. It was the means of a very nice chat with the pastor, who made both of us very welcome." This is one of several instances of advantage from the use of the books provided by the Association. Will our members take care to ask for the introductory letter, and pastors who meditate on the "erasure column" adopt this means of keeping the figures in that column down? III. ROBERT MOFFAT, the typical missionary, has passed to his reward, and received the joy-filled welcome to the home of God from Africaner, the converted Namaqua chief, and from hundreds of redeemed Bechuanas. He was a thorough man, a thorough Christian, a thorough missionary; possessed of a mighty "faith," that seized with avidity the highest of vocations and urged him forward in sublime self- abandoning devotion to his calling; of an abounding masterful courage; of fathomless patience in toil; and of unflagging consecration. Would that our young men by the hundred would catch his enthusiasm and evince his heroism both at home and abroad. IV. ANOTHER STEP FORWARD.-The Bill for the Prohibition of the Payment of Wages in Public Houses has received the royal assent, and is now the law of the land. Mr. Samuel Morley has by this measure pushed the Temperance Reformation a step forward, and made it easier for many men to take their money home to their wives and children. When the man who has just received his week's wages can get home without passing a dozen public houses, and, indeed without passing one, the homes of old England will be merrier, and the lives of England's wives and children brighter and healthier. V. THE GREAT NATIONAL GASOMETER. -The Principal of Carnarvon College is an interesting survival of the "dark ages," and deserves to be studied with the same curious interest as an old M.S. furnished by Mr. Shapira, or a "flint implement" of the savage epoch. According to the report of H. Richard, M.P., |