MANLY THINKING. 453 which is very pleasant but not absolutely and provably true, preach a theology which is a system and not a science, and breathe a life from which the most complete education of the intellect is shut out. It would be treason to my Leader-false to the spirit of the first Christians, who searched the Scriptures diligently; to the distinguished champions of the Gospel in all times, and to the chief basis of manhood as revealed in Christ. Jesus came to bear witness to the truth, and we cannot grow up to the stature of men in Him without truth in the inward parts. But does not the courageous search for truth mean danger? May we not lose peace and joy, and let slip some of the treasures precious to our fathers? Ought not our attitude to be one of reverent acquiescence in the presence of the burning bush of God's revelation? Christianity breathes awe, but not cowardice. It is not the spirit of fear, but of a sound mind. It bids me not cease thinking because danger is ahead. Danger! how can we live without risking it? What path of duty can we choose that does not lead to the wilderness of temptation? It is the veriest cowardice that is perpetually seeking to dodge danger, and refuses work because it is difficult. God means us to be men, and He evokes the forces of an inward life by compelling us to wield the sword with our full strength against the enemy. For as a man battles for truth in his heart, so is he. Cowardly thinking makes a weak and poor life. Christ creates inward courage, heroic daring for reality and right, and renews the manliness of the world. Young men, do not be misled by the syren of a false peace. Truth is a prize to be won by strenuous battle with the shows and pretences of error, and the shock of downright attack with the foes of faith ought only to whet desire, quicken appetite, and concentrate your forces so that you may become master of the situation. Give to your thinking the courage of the heart, the force of a resolute energy, the patience of an inflexible will, and as sure as you are true to your whole self, God will be found of you in Christ Jesus, and become the sunshine of your life and the joy of your heart. Never was it a more difficult task for thoughtful and reflective young men to confess Christ than now, and never were the temptations to cowardice and a guilty silence so strong. The air is as full of sneers as a Scotch mist of moisture. You cannot read a literary book against Christianity or in criticism of its claims without confronting the vials of scorn poured out in the name of "culture" against those who are naming Christ's name as that of Master and King. It is held to be a sign of weakness to be a thorough Christian, and the claim for manhood in a disciple of the Nazarene is as much resented in many quarters in London to-day, as it was in Rome in the first century. Be courageous; don't flinch. Clench with a tighter hold every truth you know and have proved. Convert thought-out truth into loyalty to Jesus Christ, and obedience to His laws. Courageous deed, following intrepid thinking, made the Protestant Reformation. Luther was as fearless as a lion, and as calm as God, and in the spirit of self-sacrifice he went forward, determined to hold that which he had felt to be right, and to die rather than yield. It is an unmanly, false, and pernicious view of thinking that expects it to do the work of personal trust, and loads it with the tasks that belong to obedience. JOHN CLIFFORD. Talks with our Girls. III.-A GIRL OF THE PAST.* "AUNT JANE" was a teacher in the Sunday-school, regularly as her strength would allow, even at eighty-three. A characteristic incident took place the day she died. Some little time before she had offered a Bible as a prize to the scholar who should compile the best set of texts on the subject of Baptism. She was so satisfied with the work of all that a Bible was deserved she thought by each, and these Bibles were being distributed as she lay dying. On her way home she would be attended or followed often by a number of young people wanting a word with her, each some item to consult about. Though removed from them by the slow deliberation of age she was yet one with them in having a young heart. The meekness of her bearing met all on his or her own level. She was "Aunt Jane" to them all, though it would be with a dash of awe for the wisdom that was born of something more than age. During the long reflective years her spirit had caught something of "the light that never lay on land or sea," and was toned with the thoughts that told of other worlds. The present shrunk into nothingness, eternity grew. God was present, and the interviewer would feel he was with one whose garments were already made white and would soon be glorified in the Father's home, and yet no trace of self-consciousness ever seemed to mingle with her intercourse or mar a character that was as simple as it was great. In her delights with the Works of her Father's hands, she was a very child-a child of nature and nature's God. Her almost passionate love of flowers and of other natural objects was constantly showing itself. Her flower garden, the plants in her window, her walks out afforded constant entertainment, not merely in the satisfaction of possession, if the object was not hers the admiration was just the same; of connoisseurship she knew nothing, she could admire and rejoice that the Maker of it all was hers. Things usually rated ugly come in for their share of appreciation, from the "wild beast show" to the despised snail, snake, or toad, nothing was common or unclean, or unworthy of thought that showed its Maker's wisdom; "isn't it a beauty" was her frequent exclamation, others most likely thinking how to get rid of the thing that to them would be obnoxious. She answered to Coleridge's verse: in "He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small, Her appreciation of these things did not arise from a contracted mind, incapable of judging of loftier themes, but rather from a mind that had, dwelling apart" from conventional thought, grown apt to take fresh views of its own. The heart that finds "sermons in stones, books in the running brooks," will not be unimpressed with the larger aspects of nature. "The primrose by the river's brim" to her brought a sweet content, by reminding of the beauty bestowed by the Father's love. The whirlwind suggested a sense of security in the same Father's * Cf. pp. 880, 416. A GIRL OF THE PAST. 455 power, whilst in the mighty thunder-storm she would feel an elevation of soul that would break out in song of praise to her Lord and King. She had come to the liberty of those whom the "truth makes free," and to "the love that casts out fear." The end was approaching fast, though unseen; she was eighty-three, but comparatively well; her friends saw little difference in her; a suspicion of change might cross the mind of any who had not seen her lately. On Saturday evening, June 9th, an attack took place, presumably of the old complaint, complicated with a severe cold, that threatened bronchitis; during the week she rallied, and hopes were entertained of her recovery, but the end was near. The last conscious day of a noble life had arrived on the following Saturday—a day of brightness, and peace, and love, in which with life's work over she could be at her ease, and give herself to conversation and reading-she took great interest in some pages read to her; then herself read aloud, throughout the day showing the most happy contented spirit; grateful for every attention; enjoying the day in a specially marked manner; perfect calm and rest in the prospect of eternity; anxious for one thing only, that she should not "be a burden" to any. The sun was about to dip. Meanwhile on the spiritual firmament no cloud was visible, only the evening sun-light of heaven's peace, light, and joy. She retired to rest, and a new attack occurred, but she soon seemed easier and the worst was thought over; then again a relapse and there was little more evidence of consciousness. A few hours more, during which the disease was anxiously combated; then the final change came, and all was over. Painlessly she was taken away on Sunday afternoon, June 17th, 1883. The lessons of her life are few and simple, yet such lessons as no one can practise without striking at the root of all that is wrong, and aspiring towards all that is good and true. Her life was founded on the one principle of loyalty to Christ, consecration to His service. Everything from this fell into its right relationship: conscience was exalted-convention, fashion,-what men thought or said was nothing; the approval of her Maker was the one and only thing to care for. The distinguishing feature of her character was her regard to principle. She had good common sense, a firm will, great perseverance, as shewn in her success in the study of Greek; but her earnest and high Christian principle was of all the most conspicuous. Her strong adherence to her denomination was to her a natural outcome of her love of God. The General Baptist body was to her a home; its tenets her belief; repentance towards God; faith in our Lord Jesus Christ; the renewing work of the Holy Ghost; following the Lord as He had commanded in Baptism, as an outward and visible sign of an inward change of spirit, with the special distinctive holding of the General, as distinguished from the Particular section of the body; that ALL men were invited to take freely of the Gospel feast; that the obstacle lay with men's depravity, not with God, in any lack of divine election,―these truths were as the breath of her nostrils. The patient calm of her demeanour was often remarked. Probably she never heard of Ruskin's line, "Behold the essential vulgarity of being in a hurry; " but she had learnt the lesson where it is open to 456 COURTESY OF MANNER. all," He that believeth shall not make haste." She had got to the root of things, why should she be perturbed? "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee." The gentleness and refinement of her character was shewn in courtesy to all, in esteem for the poorest, in the recognition of the use of the lowest, both in human life and material things, Nothing was high enough for pride or low enough for contempt; the rich and poor meet together, the Lord is the maker of them both. Outwardly, her life taught that true dignity is irrespective of rank or fortune; that with care and thrift, the lowest may rise; that adverse circumstances may be controlled; that it is in the power of all to inform themselves and benefit others; for "He whose ardour brightly burneth, With a purpose true and strong. In the end a laurel earneth, Nobler than the noblest song." Courtesy of Manner. I AM often sorry that the invaluable training in sitting still and maintaining the attitude of decorum toward elders and superiors, once a part of every child's education, is now missed by many. Manners do not come wholly by chance, nor are they entirely to be trusted to refined associations, though these greatly aid in their acquirement. Sooner or later most of us need the discipline of enforced rules, and conventionalities have their uses in the ease and grace they confer, the smoothness with which they oil the intercourse of society, and the friction from which they save. Toward the aged and the feeble, and toward little children and servants, the courteous person is kind and deferential. True courtesy implies remembrance of the Bible rules, "In honour preferring one another." If you wish an example of lofty courtesy, make a study of the life of Paul, who always bore himself with simple dignity, who never was unequal to the situation, and who was loving and pitiful to his friends and to the suffering. Manner and manners are often confused, or, by inexact people, thought of as being almost identical. Manner is really the expression of a person's whole character, the style of one's thought, and the subtle revelation of the soul, while manners are more like clothing or decorative badges. People sometimes have ceremonious manners, while their manner is constrained, stiff and shy. A lady's manner may be brusque, aggressive and repellant, so that you are on the defensive so soon as you encounter her, yet she may have the etiquette of polite society at her fingers' ends, and never violate a single one of its arbitrary rules. And a woman may be most winning, lovable and motherly in her manner, and still be quite ignorant of many little points of conventional training. To acquire a charming manner, girls, I would advise you to guard your hearts from impure thoughts, and to live much in good company of the best books, and the most high minded people. Truth, tenderness, affection and unselfish charity, enter into the composition of a good, because an engaging and unobtrusive manner. Not to think too highly of self, not to be very sensitive, not to insist too strenuously on receiving attention and regard, are the negative qualities which the best womanly manner implies. As for the positive qualities, they are all wrapped up, as the rose in its bud, in one beautiful word-charity, or love. The thirteenth chapter of Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians is a complete manual on the subject. Manners are the daily product of a thousand influences. Manners at the table, in company, at school, at home, have nearly everything to do with comfort and propriety. There is a word which sums up how they are to be acquired. It is this-obedience. Conform to the laws which have been made presumably for the general convenience of the world, and conform to them willingly. When you are in doubt concerning any matter, do not be ashamed to ask advice of those who are well informed. If you have made a mistake, do not be crushed or needlessly humiliated, but determine to do better the next time. Never despise little things. Do not consider the acknowledgment of favours, the answering of letters, and the attending to trifling details as of small importance. It is never right to omit saying "Thank you," to the person who helps you, in even the slightest particular. Friend or Foe? MRS. SANGSTER. A SEQUEL TO "OLIVER RAYMOND." BY E. JOSEPH AXTON. CHAPTER XII.-ATONEMENT. Two years! What changes time works in men and things about us-ay, in our own hearts also. Measured by joy and peace, how like a rapid, bird-like flight across a sunny landscape is the flight of two years! measured by grief, by work of atonement, by shame and fear, how like the dragging of a clanking chain along a gloomy, almost endless path! Truly, time should be measured by our joy or sorrow. A gloomy path, indeed, has that been which Oliver has trodden these two years, and a heavy chain that which he has dragged after him. Often and often has he sat, as he sits now on that seat in the park, with the gentle summer breeze stirring his auburn hair, the soft evening sunlight playing over the grass and glorifying the beautiful white clouds above-often has he sat thus, thinking, sadly, yet hopefully; looking forward into the dark future; recalling the still darker past, with its vivid scenes and characters. Why is he so sad? Has not his uncle fully pardoned him-nay, forgotten, almost, that he ever had anything to pardon him for? Is he not manager still, of a business ever widening, ever increasing the respect of men for him? Truly, it is not now with Elsie as it was-there is some strange air of restraint about her manner. When Mr. Bradford-as is frequently the case-jests about the coming wedding, she looks quickly at Oliver, and he at her; but the jest falls flat, though even Mr. and Mrs. Weston and Captain Grant take it up. Yet he knows that, if he will, Elsie is his for the asking. Alas! how true is the word of her who said, "Our deeds are like our children: they act apart from our will." Oliver is never free from those deeds of two years ago; like gibbering ghosts, they haunt him; like imps from the nether world, they mock him, and will give him no peace. Others have forgiven him his folly; more, the Divine forgiveness also, he knows, is his: the pain of it is, he cannot forgive himself. |