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“I don't see that at all,” replied Jack. “Uncle George lets me talk to him and ride with him and collect curiosities for him. And my greatest enemy never accused me of being clever !” he added, with perfect truth.
“ But you are a boy. That makes all the difference."
“Oh bosh! Can't girls talk and ride just as well as boys ? Anyhow, I would not stand being left out like that if I were you. You have a right to be his companion, and you ought to claim it. I used to think you had lots of pluck and spirit for a girl, especially that day you thrashed me in the orchard ! But if you don't go straight away and ask Uncle George to buy you a horse and let you ride with him, I shall have to change my mighty mind, or else—to ask him myself!" And with this awful threat Master Jack proceeded to pelt his cousin with daisies and dandelions, which he had been carefully collecting for the purpose during
during his little lecture.
Ursula never again alluded to her desire to become a hospital nurse, and when Nurse Elma's promised visit took place, she found that, through Jack's influence, father and daughter were, if not on very affectionate terms (for Mr. Radley was an undemonstrative man), at least very friendly and companionable, and daily becoming more so. While Ursula had found her true life in Christ her LORD, and was able to rest therein with blissful hope and measureless content.
“I in them and Thou in Me, that they may be made perfect in one.”
LIVING in one more fair than self, to such
So close of kin to be,
Our own to see,
Of yore she might have been
Of Mary's now was seen-
Thus be the grey dawn of my little life
Found in Thy noon of love,
Shrined in Thy Life above;
A LIFEBOAT EPISODE.
ONE stormy night, when the sea was mountains high and the wind blew a perfect gale, a large vessel was seen making for the shore. It was a dangerous coast, and there was no safe landing place in such a gale, therefore she fired guns as signals of distress. Directly they were heard
James Anderson, the mate of the lifeboat, said, “ Hark! We must man the lifeboat. A ship is in distress, I must go and call the crew.”
So he went round to the various homes. One of the men, named Ben Davis, he found at supper with his wife and little ones.
Well, Ben! Did you hear the gun? A ship is in distress in the offing. Come, let us man the lifeboat and see what we can do."
Oh, don't go, Ben !” pleaded his wife. “What can you do in such a gale? Sure enough I am sorry for them, but then you see if you get drowned what is to happen to me and all these children ? There be five of them to feed. You know it is a voluntary service, and I dare say many will offer to go who have no children like you. There is Joseph Drakes, now, for one."
"Ah !” Anderson replied, “but he has his old grandmother depending on him; yet still, trust him, he will be true to his post, and the old woman will bid him God speed and will pray for us.
May I go and lend a hand, father ?" said a lad of about fourteen, with a noble open brow, to Ben Davis.
“A mighty deal you can do in such a gale as this,” said his mother, in a sneering tone. “No. Stay at home, can't ye ?”
* Now, my good woman,” said James Anderson, “ remember 'tis a volunteer service, as you just now said, and if the lad is really willing, let him go. We will sure find something for him to do. One volunteer is better than ten pressed men; so now, my boy, if your father will let you come, let us go, for I must call the others to man the boat. But tie a comforter tight over your cap and put on a thick coat, for you will find it bitter cold, I warn you.”
As the little lad went out he said to his sister, “ Lizzie, don't go sleep when you go to bed, but try and keep awake and pray for those in danger on the sea. Suppose it was our big brother in that ship!” And with these words the boy followed the mate Anderson out into the dark.
And now at last the crew being made up the lifeboat was launched, and the men in their cork jackets, looking strange figures, were ready for their hard work of rowing on such a heavy sea. After considerable difficulty they reached the vessel, but it appeared ages to those who were watching on the shore; for they knew well that to save others, utter strangers to themselves, those hardy brave men were running the risk of their own lives.
And truly it was a long time, though moments do appear hours in
time of anxiety-for the lifeboat crew were absent a good two hours before they returned to land, bringing those they had saved from a watery grave with them.
Now, on this dark night there would have been a difficulty in landing the strangers on the little steps cut in the rock if it had not been for the lad Harry, who had stood there all that time with the rain and spray beating on him and the wind blowing through his wet clothes, making him shiver with the cold. At once holding up a lantern he carefully guided the exhausted and shipwrecked strangers up the slippery steps to a place of safety.
A few weeks passed, and as in the daily course of events the saving a ship's crew on that stormy coast by means of a lifeboat was no uncommon occurrence, this particular case was almost forgotten, when one day the Mayor gave notice that the captain of that especial ship was so grateful for the service then rendered to the crew that he intended to reward those who helped them.
There was a large meeting in the Town Hall, and the Mayor having given the lifeboat's crew their reward, called up the lad Harry to thank him for the assistance he had also rendered to the strangers, when the boy said, “Oh, sir! I could not have stopped out in the cold if I had not thought of my sister Lizzie keeping awake praying for me. She ought to have the reward too."
“And so she shall,” said the captain, who was present. “Not one who takes trouble to serve me shall be forgotten, for whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily, I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward.' A willing service is a service of love."
"I wonder,” said Ben Davis to his wife, “if the captain meant that for me, and knew I would not turn out that night.”
“If I had thought, Ben,” replied his wife, “ there would have been this reward I would have let you go,-sure that I would.”
But there is a deeper meaning to this story than at first sight appears. The crew of this hapless ship are like those who have been baptized into CHRIST's Church, and yet are in danger of being lost. Their fellowbrethren are asked to help them, strangers though they may seem to be, and all are permitted in some way to help if they only will, but it must be a voluntary service, and it ever requires toil and exertion to help others. Children's services even are not refused. Like the lad Harry, any child may show the lantern of God's Word to guide others to place their feet on the Rock of Ages, and at the Last Day the Captain of our Salvation will surely reward all who have served Him. “For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labour of love which ye have showed towards His Name, in that ye have ministered to the saints and do minister.” And then, indeed, many will most earnestly wish that they had done what they could in the hour of their opportunity gone for ever.
L. A. P.
THE EXCLUSION OF MOSES FROM THE PROMISED
LAND. The account of this act of punishment, or rather, of this final act in the education of a soul, is perhaps one of the saddest stories in Holy Scripture; illustrating, as it does, those three things so repugnant to human nature, -disappointment, pain, and failure. If we would realise something of the bitter disappointment wbich Moses endured, we must remember that the thought of that fair land of promise was the cheering influence by day and the pleasant dream by night ; rest in weariness, comfort in despondency; the goal to which, if the capricious, murmuring people looked eagerly, their patient, earnest leader must have sought with keenest desire. In one moment his bright hope was dashed to the ground by an irrevocable decree, and instead of finishing his work in triumph, the Hebrew lawgiver had to resign it just ere it was completed, and withdraw himself into the presence of God to take the punishment of a bygone sin.
Besides the bitterness of disappointment there was also the consciousness of failure; and how deep must that have been, as looking back on the past, Moses saw the influence of tender forbearance, and the value of generous intercession, destroyed by one presumptuous word and one impatient deed; and gazing forward into the future, beheld its inevitable consequence in the still more grievous offence of the people,-his people,-against their Redeemer. How vain must have seemed his efforts, how fruitless the weary toil, how mockingly untrue the blissful vision which he had steadfastly kept before his own eyes that he might be better able to help the weary, and to strengthen the feeble-hearted, to repress the turbulence of impatience, and to curb the restlessness of disappointment.
We can imagine something of the intense love and devotion which