SIGMUND OF THE CAPE. Could it really be Sigmund? If so his servants could scarcely recognise him. What could be going to happen? Old Grane, his own ridinghorse, saddled, the red mare laden with corn, and the white mare with dry fish! "Where are you going, master ?" asked the boy who was to ride and lead the packhorses. "Eastwards to Brekka, Olaf. Follow as quickly as you can, I am going on in advance," answered Sigmund; and springing lightly into the saddle, he told Grane he must trot his very best that day. Soon after midday he found himself on the other side of the fjeld, where he was obliged to slacken speed, for the path was steep and heavy for the horse. As he came down the fjeld at a walking pace, several children who were lying in the heather picking blueberries, stared at the stranger who was riding with such a thoughtful face on the milk-white horse. He arrived at a prettily-situated peasant farm, from which could be seen the river flowing out to the ocean far away. Here he dismounted, for the owner was an old acquaintance of his. But he was not allowed to leave again in a hurry. Coffee, wine, and white bread must first be served, for it was so many years since the friends had met. Grane must be well fed, he would reach the ferry in plenty of time. So urged the peasant, bent on keeping so rare a guest, for now he might have a chance of hearing some news. However, early in the afternoon Sigmund was again in the saddle, flying at full speed over the plain, and at nightfall arrived at the ferry over the river. A man was lying in the sand also waiting for the ferry; it was Axe who had come so far on his journey. He started up and greeted Sigmund with visible amazement. A few words passed between them, and then Axe stretched himself again at full length on the sand, put the bag under his head and his jacket over his chest, and was soon sound asleep. The ferry did not come, and the night glided slowly away for Sigmund, for he could not sleep. It was quite light for a long time, and the birds were flying about over his head as busily as though it were day. Then suddenly he saw all the small white creatures with one accord flutter down and settle silently on the sand. At this moment the sun sank, the sky turned grey, and a cold blast came up from the sea. Grane trembled with cold, and Sigmund would have done the same had he not kept himHe self warm by beating his sides with his arms, heard a strange wailing sound, like the cry of a child, and involuntarily thought of Sigrid in the old house at Brekka. In olden days the sound had been familiar enough to him; it was only the young seals whining, according to habit, as their black heads peeped in and out of the water. 619 It very soon became light again; the birds flew up, Grane raised his head, the tops of the mountains grew red, and the ripples on the water played in the splendour of the newborn day. Soon after, a little boat shot out from the land on the opposite side of the river, and in about half an hour's time Sigmund and Axe found themselves on the other side of the ferry. It was noon when Sigmund, after the lapse of twenty years, again saw his father's farm, and so changed did it seem to him that he would scarcely have known it. More than half the fields and meadows had been swallowed up by sand and lava, and those that remained afforded but a poor meagre feeding-ground for two lean cows and a score of miserable sheep. And the house itself, how sunken-how ruinous ! Dilapidated doors and window-frames, and over the whole place such a strange uncomfortable silence and stillness, as if it were already consecrated to death. Sigmund's heart softened at the sight of all this want of life where he had spent his happiest days. He rode slowly towards the house; there was no dog's bark to greet him, no Molok to rush out as in olden days, spring upon him and seize hold of his jacket. Ah! he had died long, long since. At that moment Sigmund felt as if suddenly turned into an old man, aged by the sight of all this misery. A young woman stepped out on to the path in front of the house, just as he was dismounting. "Thou art Sigrid," he said, opening his arms to her, for the great likeness to her mother had told him who she was. "I knew you would come, uncle; you are now the only one left to me." They were bitter tears that flowed at this their first meeting, but the breast was warm on which she wept and rested her head. "How were his last moments?" asked Sigmund, when, later on, he sat by his brother's dead body, and looked at the former dear companion of his childhood. "He woke up from a peaceful sleep, and said, Thy mother has been with me in my dream; all will now be well. She has promised me this, and she always kept her word. Greet and kiss Sigmund for me.' And then he closed his eyes, but this peaceful smile was already on his lips. He has ended a hard strife-poor father!" "When did it happen, my child?" asked Sigmund, almost voiceless from inward emotion. any idea of the beauty of a summer's afternoon on its coast. "The sky is blue and cloudless, the sea is dazzling bright," says an Icelandic song. Yes, there is a clearness over all. The mountains stand out against the deep-blue sky, and the sea is so soft in its silent majesty, that one might believe oneself transported to the South-to Italy, the rich home of beauty. It was on just such an afternoon that Sigmund brought Sigrid to the Cape, henceforth to be her home. How he rejoiced at every smile of surprise, and at her quiet delight over all the unaccustomed luxury and grandeur. Now he knew for whom he had heaped up riches, for whom he had striven these many years. And when all had been seen within, he took her to look at the view outside. There lay the bay, bright as a mirror. In the distance a Danish merchant ship, bound for the nearest haven, but unable to move for want of wind. The sails hung loosely from the masts, tinged with a rosy hue from the setting sun. A little bird was trilling a melodious friendly greeting. Sigrid turned her eyes to the west, there glowed the great glacier like a purple cone in the midst of the vast quiet ocean. "Yes," she exclaimed, "here is my home. I know it from my mother's constant descriptions." And a sweet low voice sounded in Sigmund's ears, "Come, and I will show you all my beautiful flowers." In order that you may know Sigmund's story to the end, I will tell you that he became an old man, with long white hair. To his dying day he was more esteemed than any other man at the Cape; he had, so it was said, a hold over all. He was, it must be confessed, quite aware of his own worth; but the truth shall follow-he was no longer harsh in his judgments over others, as was the case in his younger days; he was no longer the man who drove the unfortunate from his door. Sigrid was to be his heiress, and had already received a handsome dowry on the occasion of her wedding, which took place the spring after her arrival at the Cape. The name of her husband is not recorded; but this is well known, that a few years after her marriage a stranger, who chanced to see a fairhaired, clear-eyed boy playing about on the beach, called out to him, "What is your name, and where is your home?" "You must certainly be from the other side of the bay," answered the boy, with a self-complacency that left no doubt as to whom he belonged, or you would surely have known that I am called Sigmund, and am the grandson of SIGMUND OF THE CAPE." "DOMESTIC BROILS," AND HOW TO MEND THEM. SECOND PAPER. ently-nothing but help from God can here either sustain or direct. Nor is it possible to lay down. special rules for cases which all differ, and each of which must be judged and treated separately. All that another can say is, God will not forsake his own, and when help is prayerfully sought, it will assuredly be abundantly granted. OW, all "domestic broils" may be traced up to one of three sources— Principle, Temper, Trifles. The lastmentioned are by far the most frequent; those from principle the most rare. I. Differences springing from principle. It may so happen that after parties have become united The duty of wives, especially, is sometimes exserious divergence of principle may arise. Hus-tremely difficult. To help her in this, as in other band or wife may begin to think seriously, and a matters, God has furnished woman with what, newly-acquired religion be hateful to the worldly- for want of a better name, we shall call an almost minded partner; you cannot attend the theatre, instinctive fineness of tact. Remember also that the ballroom, or card-party; you cannot go to a much looks like principle that is not principle; church where God's truth is deliberately ignored, remember that no person was spiritually changed or positive error taught; you cannot consent to by controversy; remember that much that is pasthe introduction of practices in your household sionate and sinful may mingle with your holy things; which are directly opposed to the Word of God. remember that quarrelling is not necessary, though Perhaps the husband is even vicious, and he whom resistance may be; remember, above all, that you in her youthful enthusiasm the wife had imagined may be only bearing the consequences of your own the ideal of all that is noble and good, is after all former sin; that the Lord knoweth your case, and only intensely selfish. that by patience, meekness, and affectionateness The position of husband or wife where serious you may, without relinquishing either principle or differences of principle exist, is indeed one calling consistency, gain the dearest object of your heart for most intense sympathy. Let us say it rever--your husband, unto the Lord. 66 "DOMESTIC BROILS." II. Temper. Volumes might be written on that word, and yet leave the subject unexhausted. There are quick tempers and sulky tempers, cross tempers and moody tempers, provoking tempers and tempers that seem to start up behind you, as it were, and to sting you in the heel. One word calls forth another; one sentence its reply; one reproach or taunt its rejoinder. Now, bear in mind that, however sweet the natural disposition, or powerful the influences of religion, we have each a temper of our own. Bear it in mind, and provoke it not. Here the Scriptural rule is not resist," but "flee;" avoid its first rising. A quarrel, like gossip, always takes two: never be one of the two. Not that we recommend that kind of sanctimonious silence, with a self-satisfied smile of mingled pity and resignation, which seems to say, "See what I am bearing," and which is often more provocative than the angriest retort. But when "temper" threatens to rise, lay it by faith and prayer. Let the silent cry rise to Him who heareth the unspoken words, and let the look of unswerving affection beam from the eye, and it will indeed be found that such "a soft answer turneth away wrath." Mutual forbearance is one of the fundamental principles on which society is based. Our social laws mark the boundaries, and our social usages the amenities of mutual forbearance. It is not otherwise in the family. "Be pitiful, be courteous," applies to domestic no less than to public life. By extending such forbearance we only give what presently, in one shape or another, we shall again have to claim. Who knows what care, or toil, or sorrow, or weariness, bears down, where you see nothing but "temper?" or how, in that wonderful connection between mind and body, the one has unduly strung the other into excitableness and haste? 621 conjugal way holds only two, therefore brook on no account the interference of a third, whether on pretence of good or of evil. Two may walk in this way, but only when they are agreed, and that needs "mutual accommodation." One of the most striking evidences of the presence of God, and therefore of good in nature, is that derived from mutual adaptation. The eye is adapted to the objects of sight, the ear to sound, and so the other senses. Indeed, all that God has “joined together" is designed the one for the other. Similarly our hearts and our lives must be adapted to each other, or adapt themselves. You have rights, therefore you have duties; you have duties, therefore you have rights. My right is only the converse of my duty; my duty the converse of my right. If husbands or wives have rights, they have also their duties, and the fulfilment of duty in small matters is often much more difficult than in great. The Christian in the humblest walks may have a more painful fight than ever martyr had in the arena. It is more trying to keep one's temper than a city, just as he that offendeth not in word is a perfect man. Yet our lives, or rather their happiness and misery, are in great measure made up of trifles, just as time is made up of moments. The discomfort of having to wait for a meal beyond its regular hour, of finding things ill prepared or carelessly done, of meeting slovenliness and discomfort, where a little thought and pains might have introduced ease and even elegance, or of being brought up sharp at every turn by want of punctuality or of method-these are ills more difficult to bear than the uninitiated imagine. Most houses might be comfortable and elegant. Yes, elegant! For comfort consists in finding everything where and as it should be; elegance, in adding to what should be there III. We have already stated our conviction, that which need not be there, but whose presence and here emphatically repeat it, that by far the surprises, attracts, and gratifies. There is often most fruitful causes of domestic unhappiness are neither comfort nor elegance in the richest man-trifles. Yes, trifles "light as air;" fancies that sion, while both are found in the labourer's cottage. have perhaps no ground in reality; trivialities A jug filled with flowers, a neat white curtain, a beneath even mention. Like most of the debts we couple of flower-pots, may effect what the expendimay have contracted, and which in after life weighture of hundreds of pounds has not achieved. Let us down like a millstone, so most of the quarrels it not be said that these are mere trifles, unworthy which have embittered our lives and destroyed the attention of a Christian. Distrust the pretence their happiness will, on review, be found to have of spirituality whose eyes are too lofty for the combeen needless. And if such is our bitter judgment mon things of life. In the long catalogue of things of them in time, what will our estimate of them, to think on" (Phil. iv. 8) they rank at any rate and of all their consequences, be in eternity? among the "whatsoever things are lovely." You say they are trifles; then all the more they ought not to be neglected. But trifles though they be, to neglect them is not a trifle: it is a breach of plain duty. A wife can no more dispense with neatness and, so far as attainable, with elegance in her household, than in her person. If you wish to be always the bride in your husband's affections, be, so far as you can, always the bride in your demeanour When speaking of "temper" we recommended “mutual forbearance." In reference to these "trifles" we advise "mutual accommodation;" for "trifles" though they be, they are like the "fly in the apothecary's ointment," or like the little sins which destroy our holiness and happiness. And, in truth, nothing can be really trifling that leads to great consequences. Again, the and bearing. Of all his possessions a man takes most pride in his wife. He likes to see her not only true and good, but clean and neat. Rely on it, however churlish a man may be, this is one of the soft corners in his heart. He likes to hear her well spoken of, and to know that she deserves it. that at the foundation of all real happiness lies true religion. Wherever your wanderings may lead you, like Abraham of old, erect an altar. And should you ever, like the men of Jericho, discover concerning your habitation that "the situation is pleasant," "but the water is naught," then take Elisha's plan of "healing," and "cast in the salt" of the blessed Gospel of our Lord and Saviour But these are details. With one parting counsel we may now leave these "thoughts" to be discussed between husband and wife. Remember Jesus Christ. PART I. BRAVERY AND BRAVADO. Well, then, I'll tell you. Do you remember when Clifton was at school-the day of our last cricket match, when young Tomkins teased that great bulldog who set on to him, how he caught the silly boy up in his arms, threw him over his shoulder, and then held the dog down till the owner came and chained him? That's what I call a brave act, and he did it as coolly as possible." "I think he was a fool for his pains; he might have had a very ugly bite from such a savage beast." "Well, Tom, I see we don't agree in our ideas at all; I shall be on the look-out for all the brave acts I see the boys do, and shall note them down; you do the same, then at the end of the year we shall see whose opinions are most like the master's." "Certainly, and the more of your own you put down the better, as long as they are the right sort." My readers will see from the above dialogue that they are introduced into a boys' school. The head master, not only had his pupils carefully instructed in the various subjects necessary to fit them for the duties of life, but strove to educate them to become real practical men, by encouraging them in all kinds of manly sports, and especially did he aim to develop the nobler nature of man. One year he offered a prize for "self-control;" another, one for "honour," and a third for punctuality; this year, as my readers will have already observed, the prize was to be for bravery. The day the chosen qualification was made known was a very important one, and many such conversations as the above might have been heard amongst the various groups of boys scattered about the playground, but whether any other two boys made a similar compact to register their year's experience, I am unable to say. Not many days elapsed before an event happened which was well calculated to show who among them were truly courageous. It was just the commencement of the year; a severe frost had set in, the large pond was frozen over, so that all were in great glee at the prospect of enjoying the healthful exercise of skating and sliding. A rope was drawn across one end, which was considered less safe, owing to the washerwomen who lived near being allowed to fetch water for their use, but as the barrier was placed some yards away from that side, no danger was apprehended. "Look!" cried Tom to his old companion with whom he had made the compact, "just look at Nelson, he is venturing quite to the edge; he has passed the rope. Really, that fellow has no fear." Just then shouts were heard from the master calling him back; but too late-the thin ice had broken and given way, immersing him to his elbows. Two boys ran to his asistance; their weight, however, added to his, only made matters worse: the three were in the water. The master and boys gazed despairingly at each other; Tom looked round for his friend, whom "THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. he saw running from the house, with a long stick like a clothes-prop, and a rope, one end of which he gave to his master, while he ran round the opposite side of the water with the other, so that the boys might have something to cling to; he also drew the stick to them which had been attached to the rope; this, supported by the ice on either side, gave them a firm hold, which one of the youths soon took advantage of. By degrees he succeeded in getting on a block of ice, and might easily have guided himself by the rope to the land; but he had no sooner got a firm hold and safe footing, than he redoubled his efforts to save his companions. He stooped, and bade the one nearest cling tightly to his neck; he then gradually raised him out of the water, and by balancing himself from one piece of ice to the next, and holding the rope, succeeded in landing him. The master held out his hand to guide him too; but he had no sooner got rid of his charge, then he returned for the other boy, although begged by master and boys not to hazard his life again, as it was quite impossible to reach Nelson, who seemed already sinking. He, however, turned a deaf ear to their entreaties, and was soon once more at the dreaded spot. He called to Nelson to work his way along the rope to get nearer to him; but he heeded nothing, and seemed utterly powerless; so he hesitated no longer, but plunged in the water, held the rope with one hand, while with the other he caught the drowning youth round the waist, and by a tremendous effort dragged him to the ice, then working his way, as he had done before, from one block to another, till within a yard of the edge, when his strength seemed to be failing him. Both were assisted to land, carefully wrapped in blankets, and carried into the house, where they laid for some days, hovering between life and death. At last they were sufficiently recovered to resume their duties, but no comment was made upon what had passed, as the master considered the one had been sufficiently punished for his foolhardiness, and the other fully rewarded with the feeling of satisfaction of having saved the lives of two of his companions. About two months after the above occurrence some repairs were going on in some of the outbuildings belonging to the school premises, and the workmen had left a ladder leaning against a wall. Nelson had recovered from his illness, and was ready to show off some daring feat, so very cleverly began mounting it, laying a wager with his companions that he would climb to the highest step without holding; but as usual he acted without thinking. All went on safely enough till, reaching the stave where the ladder rested against the wall, he took one step more and was thrown from a considerable height, breaking one of The boys were sorry to see him suffering pain, but could not help thinking that it served him right. his arms. 623 When the cricket season arrived all were in great glee at the prospect of playing the first game, and off they started on a brilliant day with their smart caps and suits, looking pictures of health and happiness. While two boys were enjoying their innings, the others of their side were amusing themselves. in various ways. One Jenkins boasted to an admiring group that he would mount the bare back of a horse that was grazing in an adjoining field. Tom's eyes sparkled as he listened to the projected feat, and stil! more so when the boast was carried out. Being a fast runner and a good jumper, he soon seized the horse by the mane and mounted him; but was no sooner on his back, galloping at full speed, than the animal reared and kicked to get rid of his unwelcome burden. He soon succeeded in this, throwing Jenkins into a very dirty ditch. Poor fellow, he did not look much of a hero, as he came hobbling out of the mire, in a most wretched plight. His friends laughed at him, and cried, "Bravo for a spirited rider!" He was, fortunately, not much hurt, so made the best of his way home to change his clothes. (To be concluded.) "THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 238. The "good shepherd calls his sheep by name." Give an instance in which Christ called a person by his name whom he probably saw for the first time. 239. Where do we read that the children of Israel sat under booths for the first time after the days of Joshua, the son of Nun? 240. Enumerate the various postures of the suppliant in prayer as set forth in Scripture. 241. St. Paul said that "a necessity was laid on Two other of the him to preach the Gospel." apostles felt and expressed the same obligation. Name them. 242. Give any passages in Scripture in which God is called "a rock.” 243. Once only is Christ's resurrection ascribed to the of the Holy Ghost. Quote the passage. power ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 591. 225. When David put garrisons in Edom, and all they of Edom became his servants (2 Sam. viii. 14). 226. See Deut. xii. 16. 227. "He brought forth bread and wine" (Gen. xiv. 18). 228. Isa. xl. 11. 229. The same three apostles were present. On each occasion Christ prayed. In both the apostles are described as heavy with sleep. In both it is said, "Peter wist not what to say." In both Christ had a message from heaven. |