THE BRITISH AND FOREIGN BIBLE SOCIETY.

was declared to be a sleep for ever. The Bible and the Church were alike ignored. Voltaire and Rousseau were the guides of opinion in their place.

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and their school; that in England of Whitefield and Wesley.

Books sow seeds that may spring up in the lives of their writers or long after their deaths. These men either wrote books or by their powers of eloquent speech persuaded multitudes; and all of them by the practice of their own principles created eras. In France they were licentious and infidel books, and the seeds sprang up and brought forth the French Revolution. Their authors contended against Popery, but had nothing better to propose in its stead. In England the men were believers in God's Book, and they preached and wrote according to it, for the common people. Born and educated within the pale of the English Church, and always attached to her in feeling, they yet saw it needful to break up the stereotype of a

Then, amid the raging waves of civil discord, arose the star of Napoleon Bonaparte, a young officer of the French army, but of Corsican, and, it is said, of Hebrew extraction by exile from Genoa, who bewitched the soul of distracted France by visions of military glory. He emerged into the notice of Europe, as the conqueror of Italy, just before the close of the eighteenth century. Created General, and afterwards First Consul, he engaged in a war of twenty-three years with nearly all the European states by turns. In 1804 he assembled a large force on the shores of the British Channel, and proposed the plunder of London. A hundred thousand men and three or four thou-national church which, although Protestant, had, sand boats were ready at Boulogne; and in the museum of that place may be found a medal which Napoleon had struck, with this premature motto -"Descent en Angleterre-frappé en Londres;" but a new storm burst in Germany, and saved the British Isles from the destroyer.

The years 1810 and 1811 were those of Napoleon's greatest power. He had 800,000 soldiers at his bidding, and had then set himself to vanquish all English influence in Russia, believing that Spain would afterwards speedily yield. "My destiny," said he, "is not accomplished. I must make one nation out of all the European states, and Paris must become the world's capital."

Certainly Europe was never before so subjected to the will of one ambitious man. Of all the nations Britain alone defied him, and ere long came his downfall, as remarkable as his rise. His retreats from Moscow and from Leipsic, his forced abdication and exile to Elba, his escape thence in 1815 to fight the battle of Waterloo-when the English, Russian, Prussian, and allied armies totally defeated the escaped prisoner and decreed his further exile for life to the Island of St. Helena, -where at the age of fifty-one he died-are all within the scope of living memories.

The influence of Napoleon upon Europe belongs chiefly to the nineteenth century, as does the history of the Bible Society. As the man of war went down to his inglorious grave the Book of peace went forth to all the world.

through the inactivity of the clergy, become cold and lifeless, and lost its hold on the lower classes.

With powerful and persuasive voice Whitefield called to Christ crowds not only of colliers and miners, but the Countess of Huntingdon and her associates from the upper ranks. Wesley died only one year before the French Revolution; but not before he had laid deep and broad the foundations of Wesleyan Methodism, with its full, presentation of salvation by the blood of Christ alone. These two left their mark upon their age with its reaction on the world at a time when Bibles were but scarce.

For scarce they were, though Wickliffe in the fourteenth century and Tyndale in the sixteenth had fought the battle of the Book for England, and prepared it for the people. Tyndale had died for its sake in 1536. Great Britain had received the Bible printed in English, Welsh, Gaelic, Irish, and Manx in the course of the 300 years after Tyndale; and in the same space of time Luther had unchained it for Germany, Le Fevre for France, De Reyna for Spain, the United Brethren for Bohemia. Belgium, Denmark, and Russia had it, and even Iceland, Poland, and Hungary, and Italy also;―i.e., translations had been made for them, and small editions had been published. The learned knew of these various Bibles. There were twentyseven complete translations of the whole Book for Europe, and six of the New Testament. Only nine for Asia, two for Africa, three for America; the original Greek, Hebrew, and Syriac copies completed the list of about fifty-seven versions in whole or in part which presented God's Word to the world before the institution of the Bible Society (To be continued.)

From military conquests we must now look back upon the social influence which three or four other individuals had exercised on the previous century that in France of Rousseau, Voltaire, in 1803. :

CHAPTER II.

FATHER'S LETTER.

LLIE'S mother died just a short time before the next letter was expected, and her last words to her little daughter were to be sure to call for it, and carry it to her aunt, with whom she was now to live; and as Allie promised to remember, she added, wistfully, "Oh, Allie! I wish you could write, that you might tell your father yourself of his great sorrow, and that you might comfort him a

little."

And then Allie determined that in some way or other she would learn to write and to read better, so that she might read all father's letters for herself, and be able to write to him.

This was the secret of Allie's little hoard of pennies, which she thought any one would be glad to | take in return for teaching her to read and write, and it was only the greater anxiety to get the letter which made her take the precious penny out of her pocket.

Mr. Johnstone's heart was touched with pity as he drew out by degrees the child's story, which she told so simply, and he sympathised with the honest, warm-hearted fellow far away, in the bitter grief which had come to him.

"Little one," he said, bending down, "go home to your aunt now with the letter, but don't forget to run in here to-morrow to tell me what father says."

He gave her back the penny too, and smiled so kindly down in her face, that Allie was obliged to smile too, in spite of the big tears which had gathered in her blue eyes.

Indeed, she had been quite chilled, except when now and then a stray gleam shot out, making lonely little Allie long to creep near and warm herself in it.

Poor child! as she rushed in that wet afternoon, staining the freshly-washed floor with her muddy boots, and sprinkling it with large drops of rain, which poured nearly as freely from her black dress and cloak, as it did from the hardly less black clouds outside, such stay gleams of kindness could not even be guessed at, and Allie shrank far more from the cold blast which met her inside, than the tempest she had encountered at the sea-side.

It did not last long though, for each rough word hit upon a sensitive chord in Allie's little heart, and as her aunt looked at the heavy drops, which were now falling from her eyes, as well as dress, she shot out one of the rare gleams; and Allie brightened in it, and took courage to lift timidly the unopened letter, which had fallen neglected on the floor.

She had need of patience still, though; for as her aunt looked at the little morsel of a thing standing pale and trembling with cold and exhaustion beside her, she laid the letter quickly on the table and without a word more than, "Bless her heart! think of the likes of her going out such a day," she lifted the child up in her arms, carried her up-stairs, took off her wet, dripping clothes, and popped her into bed, where she heaped warm blankets upon her, and tucked them round about her cosily.

Allie certainly felt more comfortable, as she nestled down under the bed-clothes, till nothing could be seen but her bright eyes peeping out, and a mass of tangled fair hair floating across the pillow; but there was a pleading look in those bright eyes, which her aunt could not mistake, as she saw them fixed on her before leaving the room, and hurrying down-stairs she said to herself, "Well, well! I never saw the likes; she thinks of nothing but her father's letter."

She looked up gratefully at the kind, great man who had given her so many pennyworths of attention, and then ran off, hardly minding the cold wind and great drops of rain, for had she not father's letter in her pocket! It warmed her into her little heart, and made it lighter and happier than it had been ever since her mother died; and it was with something Allie was at last satisfied. Her aunt came up, of the old ring of joy in her voice that, as she rushed | holding the treasure in her hand, and seating herself into her aunt's house, she cried, "I have it, aunt! oh, I have it!" and then she threw the letter into her lap, waiting impatiently beside the chair to hear it read.

Allie was a little afraid of her aunt. She was a woman who had had many troubles and sorrows in life, and these seemed to have gradually formed an outer coat of frost and ice, in which, however, was enveloped a really warm and loving heart, but one had generally to pierce very deep down before feeling the glow of heat which lay hidden underneath this frosty surface.

Allie had been living with her for the last twelve days and had hardly yet penetrated beneath it.

by the bed, tore open the envelope and drew out the closely-written pages, which Allie knew would contain so many messages of love and affection to herself. So they did. And there was money also, more than had ever come before, and as Allie heard how much it was she cried joyfully, "Oh! that must be to take us out; I'm sure it is!"

She was right; the letter was very long, describing the good work her father had out in New Zealand, and the prospect he had of getting on well; telling also the joy with which he had hoarded up his little gains, till they had amounted to the passage-money necessary to bring his wife and child to him—there were messages of hearty welcome and invitation

"THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS.

BIBLE NOTES.

THE WITHERED FIG-TREE (Matt. xxi. 17-22; Mark xi. 12—14, 20–24).

HEN he saw a fig-tree in the way, he came to it, and found nothing thereon, but leaves only, and said unto it, Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever. And presently the fig-tree withered away." The only miracle Christ performed that had not for its object physical help and healing! As he drew near the royal city, wending his way thither from the home at Bethany, where he had spent the previous night, having retired to the quiet domestic circle which he so much loved, after his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, he was hungry -a proof of his humanity-and seeing in the distance a fig-tree, he drew near to find fruit thereon, beguiled by the appearance the tree presented, but disappointment awaited him; the tree had plenty of leaves, but no figs. St. Mark noticing the miracle remarks, “The time of figs was not yet;" but then neither was it the time for leaves, for it was now spring and not summer, at the approach of which the fig-tree puts forth leaves. With what amazement must the disciples have heard the words pronounced against the tree!

The fact of its having abundance of leaves and no fruit is what is here brought out. The fig-tree,

as is well known, sends forth fruit before leaves, and therefore when there are leaves it is reasonable to suppose that there will be fruit also. In this case it was not so. Growing on the side of the highway, it as it were invited the hungry to come and gather fruit to appease the cravings of the appetite; but when the wayfarer drew nigh, and sought for that which he expected to find, his hopes were cruelly blasted.

This whole miracle is purely symbolical. It may be looked upon as a mournful prognostic of what was about to happen to the Jews so soon. The tree is condemned, not so much because it had no fruit, as that having none, it yet had clothed itself in leaves, thus holding out a pledge that fruit would be found if sought. In this fig-tree we may see the Jewish nation standing by the wayside of God's law. Christ came to it, and found nothing but the leaves of religious profession; the traditions of men by which they made the law of God of none effect; the ostentatious display of a close adherence to the letter of the law; the worshipping of God with their lips, while their hearts were far from him; the laying of burdens on men, while they themselves bore them not; who did no work for his cause, which outwardly they professed to advance.

In Memoriam.

WE cannot send this Number to press without
expressing, in these few lines, our deep regret
at the death of the Rev. J. B. Owen, of Chelsea,
for many years a valued contributor to these
pages; and for many more the Editor's dear
and venerated friend. Seldom have there been
united in the one character the same vigorous
intellect, shrewd sense, indefatigable industry,
genial and almost childlike simplicity, as they
were to be found in Joseph Butterworth Owen.
Regretted by a large circle throughout the country,
where he was known as the brilliant lecturer and
eloquent preacher-missed by the many readers
of this Magazine, to whom his writings, full of
Christian teaching and earnestness, were ever
welcome, he is mourned with a grief with which
a stranger intermeddleth not, by those whose
privilege it was to know him in private and
domestic life. To the Christian Church of this
country J. B. Owen has left the rich legacy of
the example of a life consecrated to the service
of his Master, in whom he fell asleep on May
24th, 1872.
THE EDITOR.

J. S. O.

THERE came a sudden voice from heaven that said,

"Friend, come up higher!" Death, the janitor,

Opened at once and wide his mystic door, And, lo! the Royal Room, with feasts bespread

Of sweet delights and joys unnumbered,

And happy, happy rest for evermore.
We in this lower Room weep fast and sore
To lose thy kindly face, and speech that led

Through sunny ways of thought to lofty things,
And plumed Knowledge fresh with faëry wings
And fed Religion with a younger breath;

All for thy dear Lord's sake. What marvel we
To hear the cry, "The Master calleth thee"?

And "Enter thou into My joy," He saith.

TH

BY WILLIAM GILBERT, AUTHOR OF "DE PROFUNDIS," SHIRLEY HALL ASYLUM," ETC.

CHAPTER XXXIII.-THE FEATHER BALL (continued). HE narrative of Mrs. Watkins, the old woman at the workhouse, was, in a condensed form, nearly as follows:

child the ball stuffed with feathers he had behaved exceedingly well, although it was some time before he again got into work. During the interval, both he

For a few months after Morgan had given his and his wife appeared to have suffered considerable

VOL VIL.

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