man, as he said, Ah, well, I suppose I must hold my tongue if you say so, but you know I can think what I like." Having remained chatting quite an hour longer, the generous tar arose, and once more bade his friend farewell, and took his departure, this time for the night. As the reader will easily have seen old Mr. Trimmer, the hairdresser, or, as he was more generally designated, "Dick the barber," was anything but a bad man. He had occupied the position he then held for over forty years, fifteen of which had been spent as a widower. He had always contrived to get a decent living, and had brought up a family of three sons and a daughter respectably. Of his sons two had died after reaching manhood, the other had emigrated to America, where he was steadily struggling ahead, and whence he often remitted little love-tokens to the old house at home. His daughter had been many years married, but in consequence of an accident to her husband whilst slating the roof of a house, the responsibility of supporting four or five little children had fallen mainly upon her shoulders. Her forlorn condition led the hairdresser to make every effort of which he was capable to assist her, and when an opportunity occurred of her taking a general shop in a new and promising neighbourhood for £30, he not only advanced, all his savings, but also became security for the goods necessary as stock. It was soon found that the affair was a regular take-in. The goods spoiled before they could be sold, and the expenses were ruinous. A serious illness, brought on by anxiety and want of proper nourishment, followed, and the poor woman nearly died. had fallen in endeavouring to save those who were near and dear to him from suffering, yet he could not help dropping a tear. "God help my poor child," he sighed. He could go to prison for her willingly, but what would become of her while he was there. She had always been a loving and dutiful daughter. Then his birds came into his mind. "Would anybody think to feed them on the morrow?" All at once a sickness seized him, and but for his attendants he must have tumbled under a cart-wheel. They help him on a few more paces, and then he is startled by the voice of John Soaper, who steps boldly up and demands what is the matter. He soon knows all. They proceed through two or three more streets and then enter a dull-looking house with iron bars in front of its windows. John produces his money, settles the bill and expenses of arrest, and-oh, joy! it seems like a dream-once again Dick is a free man. The following evening saw John return to Sly Lane. The barber was busy among his birds. It was quite a treat to see him, he looked cheerful and bright. He was about to speak, but was instantly stopped. Now, recollect," laughed his visitor, "what I promised you! Look out for the shaving-brush." "No, no, I aint a going to thank you for” "Not another word," cried John, or I'll carry out my threat." And then again scanning Master Trimmer from head to heel, "Ah, you look something like yourself again to night. The old cheerful expression is back on your figure head. I couldn't make out what had so altered you. I don't wonder at your custom falling off if you went about shaving people with that melancholy face you put on yester day. How's trade been to-day ?” The good old man soon found himself in a very difficult position, but strove stoutly against the tide "Well, you see, being Friday, not much; Wednesof misfortune. He endeavoured to satisfy his days and Saturdays are my best days, because most daughter's creditors by paying monthly instalments of my customers only shave twice a week. Though off her arrears. But this was tco slow a process I've not been idle; I've been setting some razors for to satisfy one firm. He was threatened with the law. a gentleman who has lately come into the neighHaving turned everything available into cash to bourhood, as nice a fellow as ever I met. He is so stave off the coming ruin, he was at last compelled, cheerful and full of stories always something almost on his knees, to beg a little respite. Quarter-pleasant to say. Comes out of the country. You'd day was at hand, and he must make up his rent. hardly think that anybody who had been living in After that he hoped to be able to resume payment. the country from childhood would come and settle He obtained a promise that no money would be down in a place like this." expected of him for several weeks, but, oh, treachery! in less than four-and-twenty hours afterwards he found himself in the hands of the sheriff's officer. "It all depends on circumstances," replied John. "Right you are; business people must pitch their tent where business is to be done. It wouldn't be much good opening a fishmonger's shop in the middle of Salisbury Plain, would it?" "I should think not." "Well, then, that was how it was with him: business brought him here. He keeps a kind of Cheap Jack warehouse and sells almost everything in the hardware and fancy goods line. And a rare trade he's doing. He's getting on like a house on fire. He's a man after my own heart in one A VALLEY SKETCH. respect, he's very fond of birds. By-the-by, when he was here this morning he wanted to purchase your goldfinch." "Did he, indeed?" He "Yes, and was very disappointed when I told him he couldn't have it for either love or money. said that he knew the bird by its bad wing and lame leg, and told me quite a story about it. How he had had it in the nest and had brought it up, intending to let it fly when it was old enough to take care of itself, but on account of its injuries was compelled to retain it; and further how he had given it to a little girl who had gone on a voyage with her father. He afterwards heard that the ship was supposed to have been lost with all on board. The sight of the living bird seemed to fill him with delight, for he said that if the bird had escaped, why not those to whom he had given it? Here is the gentleman him self." At that moment our old friend the pedlar entered, looking scarcely so ruddy as of yore, but with all the olden hearty, manly expression and bearing. "I was just telling my friend here," continued the barber, “all you said about his goldfinch this morning." John then narrated how I had fallen into his hands, and in the end, with the permission of Mr. Trimmer, I was restored to the possession of Benjamin Button. With him I have lived ever since, and in him have ever found the best of masters. He has prospered in his honesty, married and settled comfortably, and his good old mother is still livinga pleasing care to him. He has not been blessed with any children, and so perhaps I come in for many little attentions and indulgences which I otherwise might not. He can, you see, afford to live away from his place of business, and has this nice house and garden to enjoy when the work of the day is over. A few months after I had returned to his care a letter came one morning that filled both himself and mother with delight. It was a letter from Kitty Croft, saying that they had arrived at their destination, and that a fair prospect was open to her father, 575 who was to her all that a father could be. She lamented very much the loss of her bird, which she said had been accidently left behind in the sinking vessel. Ben wrote off the same night, and told her all about my miraculous preservation, and offered to send me out to her. Months after another letter came full of good news, but in it she declared that she loved goldy too well ever to think of again risking his dear life on the ocean wave. Since then a regular correspondence has been kept up, and Peter Croft, by manly perseverance, has, under the blessing of Heaven, gained a position almost as prosperous as that of Benjamin Button, Esq., now merchant of the City of London. "THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 219. Give the only communications by dreams that are mentioned in the New Testament. 220. Give the chapters and verses in which St. Matthew recites the prophecies proving that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ of whom the prophets wrote. 221. Quote the passage in the New Testament in which the devil is called "the god of this world." 222. St. Matthew and St. Mark quote a passage from Isaiah, with the same variety from the original prophecy. Give it. 223. As far as we know from the Gospels, the Sadducees attacked Christ only twice. Give the occasions. 224. The most probable meaning of the expression, "The Lord had respect unto the offering," is, that the fire of the Lord fell and devoured the sacrifice. Give the instances in which this actually occurred. ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 543. 207. The centurion whose servant he healed; the Greeks he met at the instance of Philip; the SyroPhoenician woman; Pontius Pilate. 208. John x. 16. 209. Luke ix. 59-62. 210. "The Prince of Life" (Acts iii. 15). A VALLEY ACK to the east, beneath a bare, bleak hill. Beside a rich green strip of shelving land, A quaint old mill-house and a quainter mill, Nooked in the angle of the valley, stand. Folds, fields, and woods crowd in the westward view, Which widens with the widening of the vale; Folds, fields, and woods, and spires half hid in yew, And eke the valley-river's silvery trail. SKETCH. Far over these in the wide west away, The storm-vexed clouds, wind-winnowed and windcurled, Whirl through the sky; and with the watery sun JAMES DAWSON. I HEALING THE MAN WITH THE DROPSY (Luke xiv. 1-6). T came to pass, as he went into the house of one of the chief Pharisees to eat bread on the Sabbath-day, that they watched him." In this miracle we have brought under our notice another of our Lord's cures, which, being performed on the Sabbath-day, stirs up the ill-feeling of those who were opposed to him in every good word and work. On this occasion their thoughts do not find expression in words. We know not where this healing took place; all that we are told is that it was in the house of one of the chief Pharisees. The guests invited to meet Him whose fame had no doubt reached this place, were "lawyers and Pharisees." Coupled with this invitation to eat bread in this house, was a plot to catch him, and so bring an accusation against him, for while in their presence "they watched him." By this conduct they were guilty of a breach of the laws of hospitality, which were so commonly held sacred in all Eastern countries. Though our Lord knew their malice, yet he vouchsafed to be a guest, that he might avail himself of the opportunity thus afforded of feeding all present with the bread of life-that is, with the words that proceeded out of his mouth, and with the instruction of his wonderful works. There was a certain man before him which had the dropsy." This disease is not mentioned elsewhere in the Bible, and we may notice that on this its only mention it is dispelled by Him who went about healing the sick. We do not know whether this poor afflicted creature was designedly placed before him (though it is exceedingly probable that he was), or whether, having heard of the mighty works of Christ, he had made his way unbidden into the very presence of Him from whom he was in so short a time to receive such a signal blessing. If we remember the style of Oriental houses, we shall easily understand how such a one could gain admittance at a period of excitement such as this undoubtedly was, because of the presence of the Great Wonderworker. "Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath-day? And they held their peace." The sick man had attracted the Healer's attention, but ere he puts forth his power on his behalf, he asks of those who set themselves up as the guides of the people, and the interpreters of their laws, the above question. As the healing of the sick was a work of mercy, they could scarcely undertake to say that it was an illegal work; and as they would not give an affirmative answer, they did what they would naturally think was the next best thing to do, "they held their peace." If a plot there was, it did not deter him from doing good, for the Lord "took him, and healed him, and let him go." Having justified his work by compelling his adversaries silently to acknowledge its lawfulness, he proceeds : : "Which of you shall have an ass or an oz fallen into a pit, and will not straightway pull him out on the Sabbathday?" He reads in their thoughts the objections they would raise against him for this his work of love, and so replies to them, showing them that if their own worldly interests were at stake they would not for a moment hesitate to do that with which they now mentally are finding fault. Bearing in mind that the word translated "pit" strictly means a "well," or a "water-cistern," we shall see the force of the example which our Lord here brings forward. The man was dropsical, or suffering from water. Christ in effect says, “You, on the Sabbath-day, deliver your ass or your or if danger threatens him from water into which he has fallen, and from which he may perish, yet you blame me because I rescue one of my creatures—a man— on the same day, from the water that is choking him! Can it be possible that what you think you are justified in doing for dumb animals because they are your property, I ought not to do for those who are my children ?" "And they could not answer him again to these things." Had they tried to do so, they would have found the task a very difficult one. Strict observers of the law, as they professed themselves to be, they could not maintain that in this instance the Sabbathday had been broken. They were completely silenced by the two questions succeeding each other so rapidly, and which put the matter before them so clearly; but they were not convinced. Truth thus presented to them had the effect of rendering them still more hostile to Him, who condescended to regard them as yet not past all hope.. We have here an example of Christ's willingness to come into and sup with those who are ready to receive him. He does not always regard the motives by which people are actuated in inviting him; he comes that they may be benefited. We have also a proof of his power to do good to those who are in his presence, though they may not ask him to exert it. Let us derive the instruction that this miracle is designed to teach us to be ever ready to receive Christ as our guest, reflecting on the honour he confers on us in thus coming to us, and not to shut our eyes to the truth that he deals with the children of men according to their several wants, and not as we think he ought to deal with them. A "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"-p. 578. TWO STORIES IN ONE. 66 BY WILLIAM GILBERT, AUTHOR OF DE PROFUNDIS," SHIRLEY HALL ASYLUM," ETC. CHAPTER XXI.-BAD NEWS. WEEK passed over, and no reply came to the letter my father had written to the Baron de Vernieul. I cannot say that I felt much anxiety upon the point, for the same feeling of security, VOL. VII. which I think I mentioned before, that all would end well, seemed to hang over me, and whether the baron gave his consent a week sooner or later was a subject of comparative indifference to me. M. de 352 Vernieul visited us, I think, every other day. Twice he saw me alone when he arrived, but our interviews were but of short duration. One morning after breakfast, my father having quitted the table to go to his duties in the warehouse, suddenly joined us again with a letter in his hand, and a somewhat angry expression on his countenance. In a moment a feeling of faintness came over me, and with difficulty could I sit erect on my chair, for I had divined all-the baron had refused his consent. “My dear,” said my father to me, "I have some unpleasant intelligence for you. I have received a reply to my letter to the Baron De Vernieul. It is not only an unfavourable one, but I might almost say uncourteous as well." He then commenced reading the letter, in which, after coolly acknowledging the receipt of my father's communication, the baron said it would be impossible for him to give his consent to his son's union with the daughter of any gentleman, however honourable he might be, to whom he was unknown. One element, he said, also entered into his refusal. He had understood, in some conversation he had had with his son, that the young lady herself was a Protestant, which, attached as he was to the Catholic faith, would be an insuperable impediment in his eyes, without taking into consideration other circumstances, which would make the match objectionable to him. He took that opportunity, he said, of thanking Mr. Levesque for the trouble he had taken in sending him some details relative to family matters, and much regretted that this had been the means of placing him under the unpleasant necessity of refusing his consent to his son's marriage. With the intention that nothing might occur to break the high respect he entertained for Mr. Levesque, he submitted that that letter should terminate all correspondence and acquaintanceship between the two families. The baron's letter had a different effect on us all. My father evidently smarted under the indignity offered him, and had the baron been present, it is more than probable some very angry language might have passed between them. This, however, not being the case, my father appeared to think it was useless to waste angry terms on an absent adversary. Not so my mother. Though possibly not more indignant than my father, she was far more emphatic in her language. She analysed the letter, paragraph by paragraph, expressing her strong indignation at each. The one which seemed to offer peculiar annoyance was that in which the baron spoke of "other reasons" without naming them. "It is evident, my dear," she said to my father, "he thinks us beneath him, and that the marriage of his son with the daughter of a roturier would be a stain on his family escutcheon. As if it were not more honourable to lead a useful and industrious life than one of useless idleness." "Pray, my dear," said my father, assuming a calmness he did not feel, "reject the idea of any degradation being possible. Our family is fully as ancient and as honourable as that of the De Vernieuls, and as well known in Normandy. If one came to compare the antiquity of the two families," he continued, with a dry smile, "I think ours could go back fully a century and a half farther than his own." Edmond was outrageous at what he called the baron's insolence. "But no matter, Clara dear, don't cry," he said, noticing the tears in my eyes; "I am sure his son is not such a cur as to allow his father to dictate to him in that manner. He is old enough to judge for himself, at any rate." Edmond," said my father, "do not talk in that manner. I will not allow the marriage to take place without the baron's consent. And I think, Clara, my dear,” he continued, turning to me, “when De Vernieul calls to-day, you had better let me explain to him how matters stand. It will spare you the pain of parting from him, and be assured I will bring the subject before him so as to be as little painful as possible." Here I burst into a hearty flood of tears, and buried my face in my hands, while my mother rose from her chair to console me. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Edmond to my father; "you pretend to be angry with the baron because he refuses his consent to his son's marriage, while you treat your daughter with not one jot more consideration.” My father seemed utterly aghast at Edmond's rebellious behaviour, and said to him, "Are you aware, sir, to whom you are speaking? Is that the respect you, as a son, owe to your father?” "And what respect does that father show to his daughter ?" said Edmond. "Look at her, and see the sorrow you have caused her. I say again, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." My mother now quitted my side, and endeavoured to make peace between her husband and Edmond. My father, however, with a gesture of his hand stopped her, and said to Edmond, "I will stay here no longer. Possibly, sir, the time may come when you will remember, and be ashamed of having, by your behaviour, driven your own father from the room. But understand this: no insult on your part, or tears on that of my dear Clara, whose sorrow," he continued in a tremulous tone, "goes to my heart, shall induce me to alter my determination. Without the baron's consent, I will never allow my daughter to marry his son." So saying, he left the room. |