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"THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS.

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be drawn into excesses, and when his friend Ben the pedlar tried to persuade him to become, like himself a member of the village Mutual Improvement society, he would reply in a joking tone, that “ day's work was enough for him, and that study took people's hair off, and he had no desire to go bald just directly." A child was born, and great was the joy of both parents, though the mother's health never seemed quite so good afterwards.

As years rolled on, Mrs. Croft's fears were realised. Her husband's evil habits got a stronger and stronger hold upon him. He fell into debt, and people grew suspicious. On more than one occasion Ben came to the rescue, and by a loan prevented much mischief.

After being accommodated several times, the farrier on a certain occasion, instead of bringing back the sum borrowed, according to agreement, called upon the pedlar for a further advance. This was refused, and after using some very hard expressions towards the man who had befriended him, Master Croft went away in a great passion, and from that moment never could give Ben a good word. From bad to worse is an easy stride, and so the misguided man discovered. Late hours and extravagance did their work. Low associates came in due course. His little girl was suffering from some inward complaint, which the country doctors were not able to remedy, and his wife was much too ill to move in the matter, and yet, although he was not without a certain amount of affection for both, still he lacked the energy, necessary to his making any manly and decided effort for the benefit of either. "Oh, they'll be all right by-and-by," he used to say when any one ventured to advise him.

He had now become the boon companion of several notorious poachers, and from neglect, his business had dwindled to a mere nothing. One night, as the pedlar was returning home very late, passing some game preserves, he was startled by a man bounding from the thicket in front of him. It was the farrier. "Halloa!" exclaimed Ben, with surprise. The other made no reply, but disappeared down a narrow lane hard by. The astonished man felt that his old friend had been up to no good, but determined, for the sake of his wife and child, not to mention what he had witnessed. He would, however, chance being insulted, and make it his business to call upon Croft on the morrow, and once more venture a word or two of counsel.

The next morning, however, before he could get to the smithy, a couple of officers entered the farrier's cottage, and dragged him off on a charge of poaching, and having, in company with two others, nearly beaten a keeper to death. On the day of trial Ben was present, not as a witness, for he had never said a word to anybody of what he had seen, and when

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sentence of six months' imprisonment was passed, he went up to his old friend to speak a few words of sympathy and regret. The other with an oath told him to begone. "No one,” said he, “but you saw me leave the wood, and I should not have been tracked if you had not set the officers on. But mark me, we shall meet again, and when we do I'll have my revenge."

The shock of her husband's conviction was too much for an already enfeebled body. Within a month the poor fond wife and doating mother was carried to her grave. What was now to become of Kitty? She had no relatives willing or able to give her a home, so it was resolved that she should be sent to the workhouse. When Ben heard what had been determined on, he spoke a word or two to his mother that brought her arms about his neck as she replied, "God bless you, my son. Yes, do. We'll find a corner and a crust for the poor dear thing anyhow, till her father's time shall be up; ay, and longer than that, if so be that he doesn't come and take her away."

So it was that the sick child had been brought to the cottage in which we found her.

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BIBLE NOTES. THE WEDDING GARMENT (Matt. xxii. 2—14.)

HE kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son." This parable was spoken by our blessed Lord to reprove the proud conceit of the Jews, and especially of the Pharisees, who imagined that because they were Abraham's seed they were sure of always enjoying God's favour, and of being made partakers of all the glories and happiness of the kingdom of the Messiah, for the appearance of which the people were at this time in great expectation.

By "marriage" here we must understand a marriage feast. Under this type the Bible frequently sets forth the blessings and privileges of the Gospel dispensation.

By "those who were bidden" is meant the Jews, who, chosen to be God's people, were called to a life of holiness, by a long line of prophets, from Samuel downwards; chief among whom stand forth Elijah, Elisha, and Isaiah, who spoke to that rebellious people, but they would not hear.

The "other servants" who were sent forth to announce that all things were ready, and to once more invite to the feast those who had been previously bidden, represent the apostles, who were commanded by Jesus to preach first to the Jews, and to announce to them that the sacrifice was offered; that the dearly-beloved Son of God had made himself the Lamb to take away the sins of the world; that all things were ready-the Father to receive, the Son to reconcile, and the Holy Spirit to sanctify; that the blessings of which prophets spoke under earthly imagery, were ready to be poured forth.

"But they made light of it." They thought scorn of that pleasant land, and instead of accepting the gracious invitation, they turned to the pursuits of this life-agriculture or commerce, and gave themselves so up to the acquisition of gain, that the very name of Jew became synonymous with that of an avaricious, grasping money-gainer.

But others, filled with the persecuting zeal of the unconverted Saul, thought they ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus, and haled his apostles and evangelists, some to prison and some to death, and so withstood every argument and persuasion to complete the engagement they had already made, that, seeing they put away from them the words of eternal life, the Gospel preachers turned away from them and went to the Gentiles. These are represented in the parable by the dwellers in the highways, some of them being "bad" and some good;" that is, some sincere in their profession and some insincere, but all having this one good feature in common, that they accepted the invitation, and so "The wedding was furnished with guests"-that is, the Church of Christ was established on earth. In

place of the Jews, who had once been God's chosen people-who had professed the Lord to be their God, but who when called to higher things under the Gospel covenant, had refused them, the Gentiles, who lived in the highways of the nations, had been invited and admitted, and the Church contained within its bounds both bad and good members. With this announcement ends the first part of the parable. It relates to that which is now past, the calling in of the Gentiles on the rejection of the Jews, and the setting up of Christ's Church militant here on earth. The second part of the parable is still future. It commences with the words :

"When the king came in to see the guests' This represents the day of judgment, when the King of kings shall scrutinise all, and shall cast out those that offend.

"He saw there a man which had not on a wedding garment." Here is the first mention of this or any robe being worn by the guests; but the statement shows that all were required to wear a special robe, and moreover that such a robe was provided for each guest, otherwise the king could not have reproved this one, saying, "Friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment?" All this would seem quite natural to those who listened to Jesus speaking the parable, for they well knew that it was the custom of the Easterns to provide the guests at a great feast with robes, and that for this purpose stores of them were kept. The most notable instance of this in the Bible occurs in the history of Jehu. After he had been called to the throne of Israel he desired to destroy all the worshippers of Baal, and for this purpose he invited them to a religious feast. The more effectually to mark them out to the guards who had orders to slay them, "he said unto him that was over the vestry, Bring forth vestments for all the worshippers of Baal." From this incident we see that it was usual to have, at least in connection with the temples, a large store of festive garments, and also that it was the custom of the guests to wear these.

"He was speechless." Had the garment not been provided for him, he doubtless would have pleaded in excuse that he was unable to procure one-too poor to buy such a rich robe; but no, he knew he could have had one if he would. He therefore stood before his interrogator self-condemned, and therefore dumb.

There can be no escape from the scrutiny of the Omniscient Eye: this is taught by the "one" guest who had not on the garment: even one could not escape, therefore none. Be wise in time. How much better to have our tongue singing the praises of the Lamb, than to be a self-condemned hypocrite, tongue-tied in the presence of Him who was our Saviour and is our Judge!

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"He was positively bearish, Phoebe "-p. 162.

HIS BY RIGHT.

BY ALTON CLYDE, AUTHOR OF "UNDER FOOT," "JOHN HESKETH'S CHARGE," ETC. ETC.

CHAPTER XXXI.-PHŒBE'S LOVERS.

T was only by a strong effort that Lewis Darley | unwelcome, for he had latterly formed an antipathy retained sufficient self-command to be able to to the young man, which made him disposed to repel meet Cyril Chadburn with ordinary civility. The any friendly overtures from him, particularly when unexpected encounter was disagreeable as it was they were offered to Bessie. Ever since the flower

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show he had distrusted even ordinary civilities. frequent presents of fruit and flowers from Chadburn Court were a source of annoyance to him, for he did not fail to remark that they gave her pleasure. The idea of a visit from Cyril during his absence had not occurred to him, or he would have taken precautions to prevent the possibility of a tête-àtête between him and Bessie. It had startled him, the sight of those two chatting familiarly together, apparently in thorough enjoyment of each other's society. He was in the mood to exaggerate everything to his own disquietude, and over-estimate the importance of every trifle which had any bearing on the subject.

Entering unperceived, he had full opportunity for studying the picture; Cyril standing by the easel, his head bent over the unfinished picture, one hand resting on the back of the chair occupied by Bessie. He saw her, all eagerness and animation, looking up at her visitor, and listening with evident interest and pleasure, her eyes sparkling and her sweet face glowing with bright colour. The old man noted all, feeling inclined to be angry with his nephew for allowing Cyril Chadburn to take his place by Bessie's side. "Gerald seems to lack spirit. At his age, if I had any liking for a girl, I would have taken care that none beside myself should have the chance to win her."

Influenced by these thoughts, he took Gerald up somewhat shortly, abruptly interrupting some remark which he was making on a political question that was absorbing the public mind. "Don't trouble me with that. Look yonder; Miss Bessie has a visitor. Do you see who it is?"

"Yes; it is Mr. Cyril Chadburn."

The words were jerked out in a tone closely resembling a growl.

favour, while the very fact of his cool, confident tone would be certain to increase the doctor's ill-humour.

Cyril Chadburn proved to be right, so much so that Bessie, in an unusual fit of confidence to Phoebe, who was undoing her hair, said rather vaguely, “He was positively bearish, Phoebe."

The young handmaiden stopped in the midst of her work, and asked in a surprised tone, "Who was bearish, Miss Bessie ?"

"Why, that handsome cousin of mine. I wonder what I can have done to vex him ?"

Phoebe replied by giving her young mistress a bit of advice. "If I was you, miss, I'd be vexed next time he comes, and see if he doesn't come round."

Bessie gave her a half-amused look, and asked, "Have you ever tried that plan, Phoebe, as you recommend it so strongly?"

Phoebe blushed, and Bessie had to repeat her ques tion before she could elicit a reply. "Yes, Miss Bessie."

The young lady was evidently surprised by her answer. She sat some seconds gazing into the glass, and silently studying the flushed face which it reflected behind her own. Poor Phoebe went on brushing vigorously, and getting hotter every moment. She was a picture of blushing self-consciousness. It was betrayed even in the motion of the large red hands as they went nervously on with their task. It was Bessie who broke the awkward pause.

"Phoebe, you sly thing, you have a lover, and never told me !"

The effect of this accusation was to produce more helpless self-betrayal on the part of Phoebe, a deeper scarlet in her cheeks, and much harder brushing than the young lady's hair required.

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"Oh, you've not quite lost the use of your eyes!" ging at my hair as if it was a clothes-line, and was the old man's satirical rejoinder.

Gerald gave him a wondering look; but before he could ask for an explanation, Lewis Darley had quickened his steps, and passed through the gateway, leaving him to follow.

Puzzled to account for his uncle's sudden display of anger, and secretly chafing at the sight of Cyril Chadburn's evident partiality for Bessie Grant, Gerald felt unwilling to follow, and would probably have prolonged his study of the old arch for some minutes longer, had not his uncle called to him to come in. His face flushed as he caught sight of Bessie's picture, and the thought that she had let Cyril Chadburn see it after having refused him, gave an unnatural constraint to his manner, and caused him to meet Cyril's courteous advances with a degree of coldness that touched the pride of the heir of the Chadburns. But as he guessed the cause of the young doctor's coolness, he adroitly took the opportunity to act the amiable, well knowing that the contrast between them would be sure to tell in his

brushing as if you were cleaning a carpet that was hanging on it?"

"La! miss; you know I didn't mean to hurt you;" and in her compunction, Phoebe drew some of the bright tresses over her hand, and stroked them softly.

Bessie laughed, and said mischievously, "Never mind, Phœbe; you are in love, and I forgive you.” "Oh, Miss Bessie!"

"Yes; I am sure you are, Phoebe, and you must tell me who he is!"

'I can't, miss."

"And pray why are you afraid?"

"I don't know, miss; I think I would rather not." "But you must! Is it the butcher ?"

No, Miss Bessie."

"Well, then, it must be the baker, for I have often seen you talking to him longer than there was any need for."

"Oh, Miss Bessie! I must have been complaining about the bad bread."

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There, there, Phoebe, that will do. If he ordered you to take a constitutional every day you would think differently."

"There's nothing I'm fonder of than a walk, miss,

"The barber's son, miss, as lives close by the only mother's always worrying about wasting time; cathedral." but I do enjoy the shop-windows."

"Oh, indeed! dressing?"

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Does he give you lessons in hair

"No, Miss Bessie; I'm sure he doesn't."

Well, tell me in confidence which is the favoured

one."

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Particularly those of the tea-shop," suggested Bessie, drily. It was a bit of retaliation for Phoebe's want of sympathy. It told as she had expected. The girl's face reddened up to her temples as she exclaimed, "Oh, Miss Bessie, how can you!" "Because I'm not in love, Phoebe."

"Him at the tea-shop, miss. He's better looking, and he sent me a valentine, with a lace border and pink and gold angels flying over it, covered with roses, and fit to be framed. Oh! it is beautiful, Miss-Cyril Chadburn and Gerald Darley. Bessie;" and Phoebe grew quite enthusiastic in her description.

And with that remark Bessie dismissed her, for her thoughts naturally wandered to her own admirers

"You must let me see it, Phœbe, and I'm afraid I shall have to But, hark! there is my uncle calling me in a great hurry. We must talk about this another time; only, mind you are not to flirt. Now, just twist my hair round this comb, and let me run down at once."

CHAPTER XXXII.

WATCHED.

FROM the time that Philis Ford first roused her master's anxiety about the health of his adopted daughter, Bessie found herself compelled to take daily walks, against which she protested, because she had a rooted dislike to constitutionals. But there was no other way of satisfying the ever-watchful solicitude of the old man, who had taken to himself a conviction that going out was indispensable to keep his darling from fading before his eyes. Besides, Gerald Darley had given in his professional verdict on the subject, with much impressive medical talk about the laws of health, debility, and the necessity for fresh air and tonics. This combined force carried the point; Bessie could not refuse compliance, if only for the sake of relieving the old man's anxiety. She could not help regretting the uninterrupted hours of seclusion which she had been used to pass in her own room or the oak parlour.

She tried to make a compromise in favour of gardening; but that meddling Gerald chanced to hear of it, and at once negatived the idea, by deciding that the air was too confined to make it an efficient

substitute for the daily walk, change of scene being as necessary as fresh air.

Bessie went out every day when the weather was favourable, sometimes accompanied by the old man, but oftener alone. Her rambles were usually in one direction-to the river-side, which was always a charming retreat in summer. It refreshed her by being so different to Abbey House and its gloomy surroundings. Much as she loved the old home, there was an indescribable sense of relief in such entire change from the objects that were about her every day. It broke the monotony of life so pleasantly, and sent her back all the brighter and fresher for having exchanged, even for a brief interval, the overshadowed seclusion of the solemn old house for the exquisite river scenery, that filled her mind with pictures, and fed it with new dreams of beauty. The fair tidal river laughed and gleamed in the sun as it hurried onward to the sea, its gentle wavelets singing among the whispering reeds, and softly kissing the lilies as they bathed their petals in the stream from which they drank new life and freshness.

Bessie's was just the mind to seize and retain the inspiration of such a scene. Her favourite walk was a shady path winding along the bank of the river, between thickly-planted trees that formed a green roof above her head. Near the end of the path, where the leafy canopy was not so thick, and a more open view of the river could be obtained, there was the massive, gnarled trunk of an old tree, upon which Bessie often improvised a seat. There she would linger, painting ideal pietures, and letting her mind revel in enjoyment of the fair scene.

The river seemed to have strange fascination for her; she was never tired of watching the play of shifting light and shadow on its waters. Sometimes

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