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diff --git a/43642.txt b/43642.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3b08f88..0000000 --- a/43642.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6815 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Quiver, 2/1900, by Various - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Quiver, 2/1900 - - -Author: Various - - - -Release Date: September 4, 2013 [eBook #43642] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUIVER, 2/1900*** - - -E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Julia Neufeld, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 43642-h.htm or 43642-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43642/43642-h/43642-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43642/43642-h.zip) - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. - - The carat character (^) indicates that the following - letter is superscripted (example: M^r). - - - - - -THE QUIVER 2/1900 - -[Illustration: (_By permission of Messrs. Henry Graves and Co., Pall -Mall, S. W._) - -THE LOST PIECE OF MONEY. - -(_By the late Sir John E. Millais, P.R.A._)] - - - - -PICTORIAL SERMONS. - -[Illustration: (_By permission of William Coltart, Esq._) - -JOSEPH INTRODUCING JACOB TO PHARAOH. - -(_By Sir Edward J. Poynter, P.R.A._)] - - -With truth and beauty as the objects of his art, the painter, -whatever be the subject he is endeavouring to depict, becomes a -guide and helpmeet to his fellow-men. His art is "twice blessed," -blessing "him that gives and him that takes." The contemplation -of a beautiful and pure work of art acts as a charm upon the -mind oppressed with care and trouble. A landscape on canvas, -reflecting the sunshine of the countryside, suggesting its freedom -of atmosphere, its "fair quiet and sweet rest," when seen in the -midst of the toil and grime of a great city, is a sedative to the -jaded nerves of the busy worker; it reminds him of the glories of -nature which lie outside the boundaries of the man-made wilderness -of houses, and brings him for the moment into close commune with -Nature herself. A glimpse of blue sea, of clear running stream, or -some sweet pastoral scene, carries with it a breath of fresh air, -invigorating and refreshing, to those who gaze upon its brightness -through the murky atmosphere of the city streets. - -The painter, indeed, has a power which competes closely with the -eloquence of the preacher, or the soothing rhythm of the poet; it -raises the man who approaches his work with a receptive heart from -his own petty self, enlarges his sympathies and his hopes, calms -his troubles, and sends him back refreshed and invigorated to his -struggle with the cares and troubles of his daily life. - -A great picture is not so much one that displays the technical skill -of the painter as his power to appeal to the emotions of those who -look at it. Truth is at all times simple, and he who would expound -it, either in sermon, poem, or picture, must do so in language which -can be readily understood of the people. This does not make his -task any the lighter, for any straining after effects of simplicity -betrays his own lack of truth; simplicity must be spontaneous--from -the heart. - -Judging a picture, then, by this standard of simplicity and truth, -we look first of all for these qualities; we look to see if the -artist is sincere in his representation of the scene he presents -to us. If we find this to be so, then we receive the work as a -contribution to the truth we are seeking. Some painters force -us to recognise their skill as colourists, as draughtsmen, as -archaeologists--they have insisted upon their accuracy in these -respects, but oftentimes at the sacrifice of all spirituality; their -pictures are representations of costume, of architecture--what -you will--but the true spirit of art is lacking; they are merely -skilfully painted canvases. - -In no direction is this more apparent than in pictures dealing -with religious subjects. In such works we especially want to feel -immediately we look at them, "Here is an honest effort to realise -the true spirit of the subject: here is something which is helpful, -inspiring, _good_." We do not want to be forced to admire the -accessories before we realise this; that should follow in due -course, and will, if the picture has been designed and executed -in the right spirit. As in a spoken sermon we fail to grasp the -teaching as we should if we see the framework upon which the -preacher has built up the fabric of his oration, so in a pictorial -sermon we lose the good that is in it if we are impressed first of -all with the details of technique or composition. The appeal to the -heart should come first--that to the head should be secondary. - -[Illustration: (_By permission of the Artist. Copyright reserved._) - -"AND THERE WAS A GREAT CRY IN EGYPT." - -(_By Arthur Hacker, A.R.A._)] - -The helpfulness and interest of Biblical pictures to young and old -is acknowledged by all. The pictorial Bible is a never-ending source -of delight, and its influence is extraordinary in its extent and -power. Our ideas of Scriptural scenes and incidents have often been -formed more by the illustrations than by the Biblical narrative -itself, and we have often been almost pained in after-life on -seeing the attempts of other artists to depict scenes which differ -materially from those for which we acquired a fondness in our -early days, although we recognise the fact then that many of these -favourite pictures are in no wise worthy of their subjects. After -all, pictorial Bibles are, as a rule, unsatisfactory. More's the -pity! The range of subjects is so vast, and the artists employed -have seldom succeeded in impressing their representations with any -degree of the dignity attaching to them. Even the versatile genius -of Gustavo Dore could not respond successfully to the gigantic work, -although of the few artists who have grappled with it, he creates -the greatest amount of interest. - -[Illustration: (_From the Fresco in the House of Lords._) - -MOSES' DESCENT FROM SINAI. - -(_By J. R. Herbert, R.A._)] - -An interesting volume has recently been published in which are -gathered together pictures, by modern artists of varied nationality, -which illustrate the Bible story from Genesis to Revelation, and -which affords an excellent opportunity of studying the manner -in which Biblical subjects have impressed artists of different -countries and temperaments.[1] Each has chosen to illustrate -the portion of Scripture which appealed to his own particular -inclination, and the result is a collection of pictures which -cannot fail to interest all who examine it. There are reproductions -of the vast conceptions of John Martin, which so impressed his -contemporaries--"Belshazzar's Feast," "The Fall of Babylon," and -"The Fall of Nineveh"--with their hundreds of figures struggling, -writhing, fighting, and dying amid the gorgeous palaces and the -buildings of those wonderful cities of old. The curiously eccentric -genius of Turner is shown in his "Deluge" and "Destruction of -Sodom"--in the one, the swirling rush of the destroying torrent -sweeping away crowds of doomed humanity; in the other, the glare and -smoke of the burning City of the Plain, the tottering columns of -the buildings, and the wild hurryings of the affrighted citizens. -Now the sensuous dancings and frivolities of "The World before -the Flood," by William Etty, R.A.: and now the grim pictures of -the Biblical tragedies from the brushes of the masters of the -French School. Here the calm, peaceful creations of Burne-Jones -and Rossetti--decoratively beautiful--and then the prettily human -pictures of Dyce and Herbert. The modern German artists who -delight in representing Christ living among and appealing to the -people of our day--the school in which Herr Fritz von Uhde stands -pre-eminent--are represented by "Christ's Call to the Sick and -Weary," by Herr A. Dietrich. - - [1] "Sacred Art: The Bible Story Pictured by Eminent Modern - Painters." Edited by A. G. Temple, F.S.A. (Cassell & Co., Ltd.) - -From this series of pictures we have selected some typical works -with which to illustrate this article, and these will serve to show -the variety and interest of the whole. - -The President of the Royal Academy, Sir Edward J. Poynter, delights -in rendering classic scenes and stories on his canvases, and of late -years has turned his attention almost entirely to such; but twenty -or so years ago he painted several religious pictures, and was one -of the artists chosen by Messrs. Dalziel to illustrate their great -edition of the Bible. Egypt seems especially to have fascinated -him, for, in addition to the picture of "Joseph Introducing Jacob -to Pharaoh," he painted another large canvas dealing with the -captivity, in which crowds of Israelites are dragging a great, -clumsy trolley on which is placed an enormous stone lion for the -decoration of a temple. In this picture, as in the one illustrated -on page 387, the artist has exhibited his love for Egyptian -architecture, with its massive pillars covered with mysterious -symbols. But in the latter work Sir Edward Poynter has made the -human element predominant; and the simple, pathetic figure of the -patriarch, leaning heavily on his staff and on the shoulder of his -long-lost son, stands out in contrast with the languorous splendour -of the Pharaoh. - -[Illustration: CHRIST IN THE HOUSE OF HIS PARENTS. - -(_By the late Sir John E. Millais, P.R.A._)] - -Vastly impressive and weird is Mr. Hacker's "And there was a great -cry in Egypt." This artist has on more than one occasion exhibited -works of a religious nature at the Royal Academy; but none better -than the one before us and "The Annunciation," purchased for the -Chantrey Collection, and now in the National Gallery of British Art. -The picture reproduced on page 388 illustrates the passage in Exodus -(xii. 30): "And there was a great cry in Egypt; for there was not -a house where there was not one dead." It is in its suggestiveness -that the picture tells: we see none of the horrors of the last -plague; they are only suggested in the title. The silent, sorrowing -figure of the Angel of Death, sweeping through the city with flaming -sword in hand and trailing robe of black--symbol of the train of -sorrow he leaves behind him--is noble and dignified. Carried along -on swift wings through the deserted streets of the stricken city, -the destroyer touches in each household the doomed "first-born," and -only that weird, heart-breaking cry rising on the night air tells of -the sorrow and misery that mark his track. - -The next illustration (page 389) deals with the incident of Moses' -second descent from Sinai, bearing the re-written tables of the law, -and is the work of J. R. Herbert, R.A. It forms one of the series of -frescoes in the House of Lords. - -"Ruth and Naomi" (page 393) is one of the best of the Scriptural -subjects treated by the late P. H. Calderon, R.A., and hangs in the -Walker Art Gallery at Liverpool. The passage illustrated is that in -which Ruth makes her impassioned appeal: "Intreat me not to leave -thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou -goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people -shall be my people, and thy God my God"; and the artist has imparted -to the beautiful figure of Ruth all the intensity and passion to -which the words give utterance. - -[Illustration: (_By permission of Miss Armitage._) - -FAITH. - -(_By the late E. Armitage, R.A._)] - -We now pass on to the New Testament--the section most favoured by -artists, for the attraction of its central Figure is as overpowering -for the painter of to-day as it has been to those of the intervening -ages. The picture on page 390 of "Christ in the House of His -Parents," by the late Sir John Millais, is one of the earliest and -most noted of the painter's works. When exhibited at the Royal -Academy in 1850 (Millais was then but twenty years of age), it had -for its inscription, "And one shall say unto him, What are these -wounds in thine hands? Then he shall answer, Those with which I was -wounded in the house of my friends" (Zechariah xiii. 6). The picture -aroused a veritable storm of hostile criticism, scorn and contumely -being poured on painting and painter alike. Charles Dickens, in -his _Household Words_, pronounced it as "mean, odious, revolting, -and repulsive," and other critics found fault with it in equally -strong language. It was then that the title of "The Carpenter's -Shop" was scornfully bestowed upon it, and by which it has since -been generally known: it has, however, long been recognised as one -of the most wonderful contributions to modern British art, quite -apart from any consideration of the age of the artist when he -painted it. The perfect draughtsmanship, the wonderful colouring, -the marvellous skill displayed in the whole composition, were all -overlooked by the contemporary critics; all they considered was -the--to them--execrable taste of the artist in representing Christ -in an ordinary carpenter's shop! The beautiful allegories contained -in the work were all ignored, and abuse for the conception alone -given place. - -[Illustration: "ECCE HOMO!" - -(_By Professor Ciseri._)] - -And yet, when it is examined, what is there to find fault with in -this respect? Absolutely nothing. The artist set himself to paint -from nature; the work appeals directly to the observant eye by its -simple force; even the symbols are not intricate when carefully -considered. The Child, whilst playing with the pincers in His -father's workshop, has injured His hand on a rusty nail protruding -from the wood on the bench. Joseph draws back the fingers to examine -the wound (the symbolism of which is obvious enough), and Mary, -with grief and motherly anxiety portrayed on every line of her -face, seeks to soothe the Boy, and with a piece of linen prepares -to bind up the hand. St. John is coming with a bowl of water with -which to bathe the injury, and St. Anne leans forward to remove the -tool which contributed to the hurt. On the ladder against the wall -rests a dove--the emblem of peace--and through the open doorway can -be seen a flock of sheep huddled close to a fence, emblematical of -the faithful, the Church of Christ. Farther out in the meadow is a -well--the well of Truth. - -[Illustration: (_Reproduced by permission from the Original Painting -in the possession of the Liverpool Corporation._) - -RUTH AND NAOMI. - -(_By P. H. Calderon, R.A._)] - -The picture was painted on commission for Mr. Farrar, the well-known -dealer, for the sum of L250--a large sum in those days for a work -by a young man. - -This picture will form the subject of one of the fine art plates -offered to readers of THE QUIVER, on conditions which are -stated elsewhere in this number. Lord Leighton's well-known painting -"The Star in the East," and the masterpieces of four other eminent -artists, will also be included; the whole forming a set of sacred -pictures, suitable for framing, of permanent value and interest for -every Christian home as well as every Sunday school and mission hall. - -The other picture by Millais, which is reproduced as the -frontispiece to this number, was based upon a drawing which the -artist made for Messrs. Routledge, in 1853, for a series of "The -Parables of our Lord." The painting, however, was not made until -1862, when it was exhibited at the Royal Academy. It was afterwards -totally destroyed in a gas explosion at Baron Marochetti's house. - -The picture "Faith," by the late E. Armitage, R.A. (see page 391), -is an excellent illustration of the passage, "For she said within -herself, If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole." - -The tragedy of the betrayal, and the perfidy of Judas, have been -the subjects of innumerable pictures; and that of "Judas," by -Henry Tidey, which we reproduce, is typical of many. The betrayer -is represented here when leaving the house in which is being held -the sacred feast on the night of the betrayal. The pose of the man -reveals the shame which he is feeling; hesitating yet as to whether -his fell purpose shall be accomplished. - -[Illustration: (_In the possession of Mrs. Noble._) - -JUDAS GOING OUT. - -(_By Henry Tidey._)] - -The illustration on page 392 shows us the memorable scene when -Pilate exclaims to the multitude surrounding the palace, "Behold -the Man!" The work of a modern Italian artist, this picture is an -admirable rendering of the tragic event, the subdued patience of the -central Figure contrasting strongly with that of the subservient -prefect. - - ARTHUR FISH. - - - - -[NEW SERIAL STORY. - -[Illustration: FOR THE SAKE OF HER CHILD] - -By Scott Graham, Author of "The Link between Them," Etc. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -Dependent upon Charity. - - -It was a radiant June morning, and the fashionable -watering-place--Beachbourne--was looking its best in the brilliant -sunshine. Smart carriages dashed past, well-dressed cyclists -careered gaily along, and the High Street shops were thronged with -fashionable customers. - -A tall, refined-looking girl, whose exquisitely fitting garb lent -additional elegance to her graceful figure, came along the pavement, -holding by the hand a pretty, fair-haired child of six, likewise -beautifully dressed. At a confectioner's window the child suddenly -stopped. "Oh, mummy, do buy me one of those dear little chocolate -pigs! I haven't had any sweets for ever so long!" - -"Don't tease, Doris. I have no money to buy sweets." - -The child opened great eyes of wonder. - -"Why, mummy, you've got shillings, sovewins, great heaps of them, -in your purse! I saw them!" she remonstrated. And, indeed, Mrs. -Burnside's dainty, silver-mounted purse was literally bulging with -coin. - -"They all belong to auntie, and she wants them to pay her bills." -And she turned resolutely from the enticing window, whereupon Doris, -who was tired with the walk and the heat, burst into loud crying. - -As her mortified mother strove to check her, a young man in a -professional frock-coat and tall hat, who was passing, turned to -see the cause of the uproar. Mrs. Burnside's fair face flushed. "My -little girl is very naughty this morning, Dr. Inglis," she said, -answering the inquiry in his grey eyes. They were but slightly -acquainted, occasionally meeting in society. - -"I want--a choc'late pig," wailed Doris. "Mummy won't buy me -one--unkind mummy!" - -"Hush, Doris," rebuked the young doctor. "A chocolate pig! If that's -all the trouble----" and he fingered the few coins in his vest -pocket. "May she have one, Mrs. Burnside?" - -So Doris got her wish; and, once inside the confectioner's, she -fancied so many things that very little remained to Dr. Inglis out -of a shilling; and he needed all his shillings badly. But he loved -children, and already May Burnside's blue eyes had begun to haunt -him, She held out her beautifully gloved hand with a grateful smile; -and he noticed how thoroughbred she looked as she went with the now -happy Doris down the sunny street. - -There was a shadow on the young man's face as he sped home to his -scanty luncheon. He was too poor to take a house, so he rented -three rooms in a sedate-looking villa in a side street. Doctors -simply swarmed at Beachbourne, and sometimes Harold Inglis doubted -the wisdom of trying to work up a connection there. The eldest -son of an impoverished country squire, he had to depend upon his -own exertions; and, after a brilliant college career, came to -Beachbourne, hoping to work up a practice, as he was too poor to buy -one. Could he have taken a fine house and kept a carriage, he might -have succeeded; for he was a gentleman to the backbone, and had a -pleasant face and manner. But he remained almost unknown, and, after -a year of heart-breaking disappointments, found himself barely able -to live. - -Before sitting down to the bread and cheese awaiting him in the bare -little sitting-room, he thriftily changed his frock-coat for an old -boating blazer. Dress was a terribly heavy item in his expenditure; -the well-cut clothes, the glossy hat, and the snowy linen -prescribed by medical etiquette being only procured at the cost of -semi-starvation. To the hungry labourer or vagrant many people will -give a meal; but, to my mind, the gentleman who has to go hungry -that he may be well-dressed is far more deserving of pity. And many -a professional man _has_ to go hungry in these sad days when "all -the markets overflow." - -Meanwhile May and Doris Burnside were bound for Victoria Square, -the most fashionable locality in Beachbourne. Mrs. Burnside resided -with her aunt, Miss Waller, a sprightly spinster of fifty, who -lived at the very top of her handsome income, and was a leader of -local fashion. A smart footman opened the door, and the beautiful -drawing-room they entered was a great contrast to Dr. Inglis's bare -sitting-room. - -[Illustration: "I want a choc'late pig," wailed Doris.--_p. 395._] - -Miss Waller, a good-looking woman with white hair, and very richly -dressed, turned round from a fine old Chippendale writing-table. -"Oh! there you are." Then, as Doris began some childish babble about -the chocolate pig, she added impatiently, "Ring for Mary to take -that child upstairs. I wish you wouldn't bring her in here!" - -Miss Waller had no love for children; and Doris was too well -trained to defy her great-aunt. Still hugging her precious sweets, -she was whisked away; whilst the spinster, producing a gilt-edged -account-book, methodically entered the sums paid by her niece that -morning out of a twenty-pound note. Every halfpenny was accounted -for, and when May closed her purse just one solitary sixpence -remained in it which she could really call her own. Sometimes she -had not even that. - -"I've ordered the carriage for three," announced Miss Waller. "We -must call on Lady Lee, and the Amberys, and it's Mrs. Edgell's 'at -home' day. Put on your grey dress and your new hat." - -"Yes, aunt," meekly responded May. - -"And to-morrow you must unpick my green dinner-dress. I intend to -have it dyed." - -"Yes, aunt," repeated Mrs. Burnside, as she went to the door. "Yes, -aunt," was what she was obliged to say all day long; to have said -"No, aunt," would have been a complete reversal of all the Victoria -Square traditions. - - * * * * * - -To do good by stealth is unfashionable nowadays, and when Miss -Waller, to her great disgust, found herself obliged to offer a -home to her widowed niece and her child, she took care that all -Beachbourne should know and extol her generosity. - -"How delightful for Mrs. Burnside to have such a luxurious home!" -remarked many people who saw the aunt and niece that afternoon, -gorgeously arrayed; for it was known that, but for Miss Waller, May -would have been obliged to earn a living. Many a tired governess or -poor shop-assistant looked enviously at the pretty girl dashing by -in the smart carriage--the pretty girl who was dressed in silk and -chiffon, but had only sixpence in her pocket! - -The daughter of a struggling country doctor, May had fallen in -love at eighteen with a handsome but dissipated assistant of her -father's, who persuaded her into a clandestine marriage. She knew -Arthur Burnside was far from steady, but it seemed noble and heroic -to marry him that she might undertake his reformation. Poor foolish -child! she failed to realise that if a man is too weak to stand -alone, without some woman to prop him up continually, the chances -are that he will bring ruin upon both. May shuddered to recall those -four miserable years of ill-treatment, disgrace, and privation, -which ended in the death of her husband, and left her absolutely -penniless. Her father was dead, his other children were scattered, -and, but for Miss Waller, she and Doris might have starved. - -Yet, despite the outward prosperity of her new life, she found the -bread of dependence so bitter that, but for Doris, she would have -tried to earn her living. She was not highly educated, and could -only have hoped for a subordinate post; but it was so galling -never to have a garment to wear or a coin to spend, save through -her aunt's bounty, that she often thought she would be happier -as a nurse or parlourmaid. She mixed as an equal with rich and -fashionable people, and had to talk as if want of money were -absolutely unknown, though she could not even afford to buy her -child a few sweets. She dared not ask her aunt for pocket-money, for -she well knew that, though Miss Waller supplied her with fashionable -clothes, it was only because she could not bear to be disgraced by -shabby relations, and she secretly grudged every penny spent on -her niece. Yet she dared not quarrel with her aunt, who was her -only hope for a good education for her child. May was resolved -that Doris should be so accomplished that, if needful, she could -earn her bread. "Oh, if only I had not been so idle at school! If -I had practised, and talked to Fraeulein more!" poor May thought to -herself, with unavailing regret, as the country roads flitted by. - -But she had little leisure for these sad thoughts. She had to brace -herself to play her part in three crowded drawing-rooms, as if she -had not a care in the world. Miss Waller was well pleased with the -admiration her graceful niece always excited in society; and, thanks -to May, the spinster received many invitations which might not -otherwise have arrived. Miss Waller had a horror of being classed as -a frump; instead, she prided herself on being exceedingly modern and -up-to-date. - -"Just fancy that plain little Daisy Edgell being engaged to a -Liverpool man with heaps of money!" she remarked as they rolled -homewards. "We met him at the Hubbards' last year, if you remember." - -"I thought him very ugly and commonplace." - -"Perhaps--but so rich! I wish _you_ could be as lucky, May. What a -pity there are so few really eligible men at Beachbourne!" - -"If there were ever so many, aunt, I couldn't bear to marry again." - -"And, pray, why not? You're only twenty-five; surely you are not -going to mourn all your days for that precious husband of yours?" -cried the spinster sharply. - -"It is just because my first marriage was so unhappy that I never -wish to marry again. As to marrying for money--I couldn't do it!" - -"What nonsense! Isn't it done every day? It's all very fine to -talk, May, but you know my income is only for my life, and I've -hardly saved anything, so that when I die you'll be left without a -home; and then what's to become of you and Doris? You _must_ marry -again--there's nothing else for it." - -It was not the first time May had listened to such counsels; and she -was well aware that, should her aunt die prematurely, she herself -would again be homeless. Miss Waller was not the woman to deny -herself in order to save money for her niece. She must have the fine -house and carriage, the handsome dress, and the dinner-parties which -her soul loved; and she found May very useful in arranging flowers, -writing letters, and making not a few articles of personal adornment -for her aunt with her clever fingers. - -Their nearest way home lay through the quiet street in which Harold -Inglis lived--or, rather, starved--and, as he chanced to be at the -surgery window mixing a powder, he saw the carriage driving by. The -sinking sun was burnishing May's golden-brown hair; and her profile, -beneath her gauzy hat, looked very fair and sweet. He sighed, as he -went back to his powder, for the contrast between her lot and his -own seemed a little too glaring. He did not know that all the time -she had only sixpence in her purse, while he could actually boast of -half-a-crown! - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -Two Heavy Hearts. - - -Doris was never allowed to partake of meals with Miss Waller, -who disliked having to regulate her conversation according to -inquisitive childish ears. The little girl lived in the upper -regions with Mary, who divided the duties of lady's maid and nurse. -After breakfast one morning, May, having done what was required by -Miss Waller, went upstairs to give Doris the lessons which, so far, -formed her sole instruction. She found the child flushed and heated -after a combat with Mary. - -"She's that cross, I can't do anything with her," grumbled the -maid, who dutifully imitated her mistress in hating children. "She -wouldn't eat her nice egg at breakfast, and she's pulled all her -dolly's hair off--see." - -"I'm afraid she's not well," said the mother gravely, as the child -buried her face in May's skirt, sobbing fretfully. Her little hands -were burning, her cheeks flushed, and red spots showed on the -peach-like skin. "Ask Miss Waller if Jane may go for the doctor," -May continued, dreading lest she had taken measles. - -Miss Waller gave permission to summon the family physician, Dr. -Ellis, who was the most fashionable practitioner in Beachbourne, and -drove his carriage and pair; but Jane returned to say that both the -doctor and his partner were out. - -"Then go and fetch the nearest doctor at once!" commanded Miss -Waller. "I must know whether it's infectious or not, so that I may -take precautions. How vexing it will be," she complained to her -niece, "if Doris is laid up for weeks, and the house placed in -quarantine, just as all the gaieties are beginning! There's the -Mowbrays' dinner next week, and Lady Lee's picnic, and the Clares' -musical party--oh, dear!" - -Not a word of sympathy for the poor child! May clenched her hands -passionately in her struggle to restrain an angry reply. It was in -moments like this that her shackles seemed absolutely intolerable. - -Presently Jane returned, followed by Harold Inglis, the first -disengaged doctor she could find. May was glad not to behold an -absolute stranger, and stood by anxiously until he had examined -the little patient, whose malady he pronounced to be chicken-pox. -He wrote a prescription, gave a few simple directions, and then -followed May downstairs to reassure Miss Waller, who was eager "to -know the worst," as she put it. - -She was very gracious at being relieved from anxiety, and remarked -blandly, "It was very kind of you to come so promptly, Dr. Inglis. -Our usual medical attendant is Dr. Ellis, but he was out. As it's -such a trifling matter, don't trouble to see Doris again. If you -will be good enough to send in your account for this visit, I will -settle it at once." - -And she bowed him out, as if determined to quench any hope he -might entertain of being privileged to attend in Victoria Square. -Although, of course, medical etiquette forbade his interfering with -Dr. Ellis's patients, he felt somewhat disappointed as he went -away. He was so weary of waiting in his dingy sitting-room for the -patients who never came! - -May ventured a word to her aunt when they were alone. "I wish we -could help Dr. Inglis to find a few patients, aunt! He seems so nice -and kind." - -"There are far too many doctors in Beachbourne!" pronounced the -spinster. "I shall certainly not leave Dr. Ellis--he gives such -delightful dinner-parties!" - -Harold plodded dejectedly home, to learn, as usual, that nobody had -called during his absence; and, after thriftily changing his coat, -he entered his little surgery, to find a packet on the table which -had come by post. It was the manuscript of an article on throat -affections, which he had sent to a medical paper in the hope of -earning a little money. It had entailed great labour and research, -only to be rejected with the curt intimation that the editor had no -opening for such a subject. - -"What _can_ I do?" he distractedly asked himself. "I've called on -everybody I can scrape acquaintance with; I've joined the local -clubs; I'm a Volunteer and a Freemason--what more can I do to bring -myself into notice?" - -"A note for you, sir," said the maid-of-all-work, appearing at the -door. - -He snatched it eagerly, hoping to find a summons; but, alas! it was -only a bill from a jobbing-tailor whom he had employed to renovate -various garments _sub rosa_. He had no money to pay it; although it -went sorely against the grain to keep the poor man from his due. -He paced in distress up and down the narrow room, wishing he dare -start out for a long walk, to distract his thoughts. But he dreaded -to leave, lest in his absence some desirable patient might send for -him. And so, hanging about listlessly, unable to settle to anything, -the dismal morning passed, like too many others; and Ann brought in -his meal of bread and cheese, from which he rose nearly as hungry -as he sat down. He looked at himself in the spotty pier-glass. His -cheeks were falling in, and there were hollows beneath his eyes, due -entirely to insufficient nourishment. - -A card stuck in the frame reminded him that Mrs. Ormsby-Paulet was -"at home" that afternoon. "It's a tennis party--shall I go?" he -debated. It seemed a mockery to mingle in a scene of gaiety with -such a leaden weight at his heart; but a prosaic consideration -decided him. "There'll be a good tea, at least, and if I make myself -very agreeable, perhaps they'll ask me to stay to dinner. Besides, I -may get to know some people who'll employ me." - -He dressed himself carefully, and sallied forth; informing the -servant of his destination, in case anybody should send for him. -Despite his thin cheeks, there was not a better-looking man at "The -Dene" that afternoon; for he looked a gentleman to the backbone, and -as such, his hostess--who was very short of men--smiled upon him -graciously. - -"So glad you were able to come," she cooed. "Miss Waller," to the -spinster, who had just arrived, "may I introduce my friend, Dr. -Inglis?" - -"I have already made his acquaintance," was the suave answer; and -then Harold, to his surprise, was greeted by Mrs. Burnside, looking -very fair and sweet in a cool white linen gown. He had not expected -to meet her; he naturally supposed her place to be by the bedside of -her sick child. In truth, she was only present at her aunt's urgent -entreaty. - -"I'm afraid she must be rather heartless," thought the young doctor, -feeling oddly disappointed. He had not hitherto attributed want of -feeling to the owner of those pathetic blue eyes. Nevertheless, as -sets were being made up, he asked her to be his partner, she being -famed in Beachbourne as a tennis-player. - -She complied; but the set was not a success. He could not have -believed that Mrs. Burnside could play so badly; they were beaten by -six games to two. - -"I am so sorry," she said humbly, as they quitted the court. "I know -it was all my fault; but I really couldn't play--I was thinking of -Doris all the time." - -Her lips quivered, so that he could no longer imagine her heartless. -"Your little girl will be well in a few days--there is really no -cause for anxiety," he answered gently, angry with himself for -having misjudged her. - -"That is what Aunt Caroline says, and she insisted on my coming," -plaintively returned May; but just then Miss Waller appeared, -resplendent in mauve satin, with a stout, black-haired, middle-aged, -and shrewd-looking man, very carefully dressed, in tow. - -"I came to look for you, dear," she began very sweetly to her niece, -merely giving a cold bow to Harold. "I want to introduce Mr. Lang to -you. He knows our friends the Wingates in town." - -With that, the excellent spinster turned away; and May, finding no -resource save to accept the basket-chair in the shade proffered by -the stranger--as Harold had prudently effaced himself--prepared for -a _tete-a-tete_ with a man she had never seen before in her life. - -[Illustration: "It was very kind of you to come so promptly, Dr. -Inglis."] - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -"Manners Maketh Man." - - -"Do you mind my smoking?" began Mr. Lang, after a moment's keen -scrutiny of the graceful figure beside him. Hardly waiting for -permission, he produced a gold case and lighted a cigarette. "Been -playing tennis, haven't you?" he continued in an off-hand way. -"Stupid game, not half so good as golf--you should try golf." - -"I have tried it, and I don't like it." - -"Beginners seldom do. It's a fine game, for all that. You live with -your aunt, don't you?" - -"Yes, in Victoria Square." - -"Do you like Beachbourne?" - -She hesitated a moment before replying, "Yes." - -"I suppose it's like all these provincial towns--heaps of gossip -and scandal, eh? But you should be in London now, Mrs. Burnside. -There hasn't been as gay a season for years. I shouldn't be here -now, I can tell you, but I got a touch of fever last time I was at -Johannesburg, and, as I can't quite shake it off, my doctor ordered -me complete rest for a fortnight. So I came down here to stay with -the Stevensons. I met them last year at Homburg, and ever since -they've been pestering me with invitations to Beachbourne." - -[Illustration: The set was not a success.--_p. 399._] - -"Oh, have you been out in Africa?" returned May, thinking it best to -ignore his flattering reference to his entertainers. - -"Spent nearly twenty years there. I can remember when there wasn't -a gold mine on the Randt. And, though I've come back to England -for good now, I generally run over about twice a year. It's just -a nice little trip to the Cape, and they really do you very well -on the mail steamers," he condescendingly added, as he lighted -another cigarette. "By-the-bye, this case is made of African gold--a -nugget I found myself in the claim which was the beginning of the -Springkloof Mine. You've heard of the Springkloof, of course?" - -She shook her head, and he looked at her with evident pity for her -ignorance. "I didn't think there was anybody nowadays who hadn't -heard of the Springkloof!" - -"I'm afraid you'll think us rather behind the times at Beachbourne," -she said, as she rose, hoping to shake off her new acquaintance; -but he rose, too, and kept by her side as she strolled through the -beautiful grounds, speaking first to one friend and then to another. - -"Not many pretty girls here, I must say," he observed disparagingly, -as they approached the house, in quest of the tea-room. - -"Are you an admirer of beauty?" asked May, with a rather sarcastic -glance at his tubby figure. - -"Quite so. I love the best of everything there is. As soon as I -can find a girl pretty enough, I intend to marry," he replied -with perfect gravity. "It's rather lonely all by myself in Palace -Gardens. Do you like the Palace Gardens houses, Mrs. Burnside?" - -"I've never been in one, and I don't even know where they are. I -know very little about London, and very few people there--just the -Wingates, and one or two others." - -"Are the Wingates any relation?" - -"Oh, no, only old friends of my aunt's. I hardly know them." - -"Well, it's not much loss. I don't mean any disrespect to your -aunt, but old Mother Wingate isn't a woman I should ever wish to -confide in, myself. She's always trying to catch me for one of her -plain daughters--dear Maggie or dear Amy! By the way, what's your -Christian name, Mrs. Burnside?" - -"May." - -"And, by Jove, it suits you! So often girls' names don't. You find -Lily as black as a crow, and Rose as sallow as she can be, and -Queenie a little, insignificant dowdy with a turned-up nose!" - -He talked in this carping strain while he consumed a fair amount -of refreshments, none of which, however, were good enough for his -critical taste. He evidently thought a great deal about eating and -drinking, for he incidentally mentioned that he gave his _chef_ two -hundred a year. - -"What a waste!" was on the tip of May's tongue, as she thought -how useful even a tenth of that sum would be to herself. The tea -was cosily set out on a number of little tables in the spacious, -old-fashioned dining-room. Gay groups were seated at each, and not -far off was Harold Inglis, talking cheerfully with two of his host's -daughters. May glanced from him to her companion, noticing how -common and plebeian Mr. Lang looked when contrasted with him. - -As she quitted the table Harold, who had apparently been lying in -wait, crossed over to speak to her. "Would you like to play again, -Mrs. Burnside? I can easily make up a set, if you wish." - -But at this moment appeared Miss Waller, apparently from nowhere, to -throw cold water on the proposal. "I think you had better not run -about any more this hot afternoon, love. You really must not tempt -her, Dr. Inglis." - -"There's croquet," suggested Harold; "shall we play at that?" - -And, though in general she detested croquet, May assented quite -eagerly, only anxious to shake off Mr. Lang. Miss Waller could not -well interfere again, and Mr. Lang did not play croquet, but he -and the spinster sat on a garden seat close by till the game was -finished, rendering it difficult for Harold to say a word which -the watchful pair did not overhear. Divining from her erratic play -that May's mind was still running upon her sick child, he seized -the opportunity, when they were both searching for a ball which had -rolled into the shrubbery, to say kindly: "Don't fret about Doris. -I assure you there's no need. The malady must run its course, and -she'll be all right afterwards. Only you must be careful she doesn't -get a chill." - -"I wish she could have you to attend her, instead of Dr. Ellis. She -detests him because he once deceived her about a powder she had to -take. But my aunt likes him----" - -"I believe he is a very clever man," hurriedly interposed Harold, -mindful of professional etiquette. "Doris will be quite safe with -him; indeed, she hardly needs a doctor." - -"My aunt is always at home on Tuesdays--I hope you will come to see -us," responded May, grateful for his manifest sympathy. She knew he -had few friends in Beachbourne, and resolved to do what she could to -introduce him. - -His face lighted up unmistakably. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Burnside! -I shall be delighted to come, and I'll not forget Tuesday." - -Miss Waller was in a most complacent frame of mind as they drove -home through the beautiful June evening. "What a fortunate thing I -forbade you to be so foolish as to stay at home to nurse Doris!" she -began. "Mr. Lang is a man worth knowing; he made an enormous fortune -in South Africa--a million at least--and Mrs. Stevenson says his -house in Palace Gardens is simply lovely. I'll ask him to dinner, to -meet some nice people." - -May's delicate face flushed. "He's not a gentleman!" she said. - -"I daresay he was not of much extraction originally, but what does -that matter nowadays? Money levels all distinctions; and I can see -Mrs. Stevenson would be only too glad to catch him for Edith." - -"I thought his manner insufferably rude!" - -"My dear, that's because he's so run after in London; it always -spoils a man to have dozens of girls angling for him. But he was -undoubtedly struck by you; and I don't think you were very wise -to go and play croquet with that Dr. Inglis as you did. He has -agreeable manners, but he has not a penny-piece; and I don't believe -he'll ever get a practice here." - -"I'm sorry for him, aunt, and--and I thought it only civil to ask -him to call----" - -Miss Waller's brow contracted. "I think you might have consulted me -first. At best he is only a detrimental, and there are far too many -here already; but you always _were_ quixotic, May!" - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -Lulu. - - -Whit Sunday--which was late that year--was simply glorious, the heat -being tempered by a delicious sea breeze. A vivacious, dark-eyed -girl, who accompanied Harold Inglis along the parade after morning -service, stopped again and again to gloat over the sapphire sea, -tumbling in, foam-crested. "How jolly for you, Harold, living in -this delicious place!" she exclaimed. "You ought to look better than -you do; you are much thinner than you were." - -He evaded the subject, not wishing to sadden his favourite sister, -Lulu, with his shifts and privations. She had come down to -Beachbourne to spend Whitsuntide with her brother, glad to escape -from the stuffy London office in which she had to work hard for a -living. - -"Oh, Harold! who are these smart people coming along?" - -They had already passed many well-dressed groups of residents, -but none presenting so imposing an appearance collectively as did -stately Miss Waller, in heliotrope, May Burnside, in an exquisite -costume of pale grey silk and chiffon, Doris, a vision of childish -prettiness in white muslin, and two or three equally well-dressed -men, conspicuous amongst whom was Mr. Lang. Harold's colour rose as -he lifted his hat, whilst Lulu eagerly exclaimed, "Oh! who is that -pretty girl in grey? She looks quite fit for the Park!" - -He explained, secretly glad that his sister should admire his -divinity; but it was fortunate he could not hear what Miss Waller -was meanwhile saying to her niece: "Who is that common-looking girl -with Dr. Inglis? She is most atrociously dressed." - -It must be confessed that poor Lulu, who had little money for dress, -fell far below the Victoria Square standard. "Looks like a little -dressmaker," sneered one of the men. - -"A dressmaker would have better clothes," observed Miss Waller. -Her eyes dwelt complacently on her niece's graceful figure, as -she spoke, and she was pleased to see how close Mr. Lang--who had -overtaken them in coming out of church--kept to May's elbow, despite -the black looks of Doris, who disliked him. The child was now quite -well again, some days having elapsed since the garden party. - -"What are you going to do this afternoon. Mrs. Burnside? Will you -come for a drive?" presently asked Mr Lang. - -But May did not approve of Sunday driving. "I promised to take Doris -to the flower service, thank you." - -"Why, you've been to church once already, Doris! You'd much better -persuade your mother to bring you for a drive with me," cajoled he; -but the child burst out, "No, I don't like you, and I don't want to -drive with you!" so resolutely that he could not press it. - -Miss Waller frowned angrily. "Really, May, the way you spoil Doris -is beyond all reason. She is the rudest little girl I ever saw!" -And, to soothe the plutocrat's wounded feelings, she insisted upon -his coming home to luncheon with her. He was now a constant visitor -in Victoria Square, for, having terminated his stay with the -Stevensons, he had taken rooms at the principal hotel. - -Whilst May, in her costly gown, sat chafing beneath Mr. Lang's -glances of insolent admiration, at her aunt's luxuriously appointed -table, Harold and Lulu Inglis were very merry and happy over the -plainest fare in his bare sitting-room. They had not met for a -long time, and a cheap Whitsuntide excursion was the reason of her -presence now. As soon as they had finished, they started for the -shore. Sitting on a big stone, beneath the shade of the cliffs, they -had a delightful chat, until Lulu suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, Harold! -Here's that pretty girl in grey we saw this morning!" - -Doris, who loved the sea, had coaxed her mother to come down on -the shore after the service, and, seeing his companion, May bowed -to Harold, and would have passed on, but he detained her. "May I -introduce my sister, Miss Lucy Inglis, Mrs. Burnside?" - -There was something so frank and friendly about Lulu that very -soon, as Doris announced she was tired and wanted to rest, they -were all seated upon the big stone, upon which Miss Inglis insisted -on spreading her jacket, to protect May's dainty dress. Whilst his -sister expatiated on the delights of Beachbourne, and wondered why -her raptures evoked so little response from the young widow, Harold -sat pondering whether he dare invite Mrs. Burnside to come to tea in -his bare and shabby rooms. - -To his delight, she instantly accepted the invitation; eager, in -truth, to escape from the hated society of Mr. Lang. Harold then -turned to Doris, gaily asking whether she would come too. - -"Yes, I will," she answered with childish bluntness. "I like you, -but I don't like Dr. Ellis--nasty man!--and I hate Mr. Lang." - -"You shouldn't hate anybody, Doris," reproved May. - -"But Mr. Lang calls me Little Crosspatch, and it's very rude of him -to call me names, mummy." - -"Bravo, Doris!" cried Lulu mischievously, as they turned to go. -"Stick up for your rights--you'll be a 'New Woman' when you grow up." - -"I hope so," said May, in a low voice, to the amazement of Miss -Inglis, who exclaimed, with a glance at the costly equipment of the -speaker: "I should never have expected _you_ to utter such a wish, -Mrs. Burnside!" - -May smiled with quiet bitterness. "I have no wish to see Doris speak -on a platform, or go in for a man's profession; but I do feel, more -and more, that it is better for women to be independent, whether -they marry or not." - -"Why, that's just what I always say!" cried Lulu delightedly. "All -women can't marry nowadays--there are not enough men to go round. -Besides, what is more contemptible than to see girls sitting idle, -with their hands folded, waiting for somebody to come along and -marry them? No, every girl ought to be able to earn her own living, -and then she's safe, whatever happens!" - -Needless to say, such maxims would have been entirely abhorrent to -Miss Waller, who regarded working-girls with detestation, as May -well knew. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -"A Beautiful Anomaly." - - -Arrived at his rooms, Harold did the honours; not without fears lest -May should miss the luxuries of her home. But she enjoyed the change -of surroundings with all the zest of a schoolgirl, and Doris, being -made much of, was as good as gold. Harold himself had not spent -such a delightful hour since he came to Beachbourne, but his hour -of bliss was all too short; for soon a summons came from a patient, -and, though it was only a greengrocer in the next street, patients -were too precious to be slighted. So he departed, begging Mrs. -Burnside to remain with Lulu until his return. - -Left alone, the two girls settled down for a cosy chat; Doris being -quite absorbed in an illustrated book Harold had produced picturing -the wonders of the microscope. - -"Dear old Harold!" began his sister. "Don't think me silly, Mrs. -Burnside, but I'm proud of him, knowing how hard he worked for his -degree. Will he ever get a good practice here, do you think?" - -"I hope so; but it takes time," answered May, rather embarrassed. -"Have you many brothers and sisters?" - -"There are six of us altogether--a formidable number, isn't it? But, -I'm glad to say, we're all doing something, and don't cost dear old -dad a penny. I remind Esther of that--she's my eldest sister--when -she grumbles, and wishes we were back at Mallowfield Hall." - -"That was your father's place, wasn't it?" - -"Yes, our ancestors lived there centuries ago. This is the house." -And she produced a photograph of an imposing mansion standing in -a spacious park, a residence which even Miss Waller would have -acknowledged to be a magnificent property. - -"What a lovely place! And you had to leave it?" - -[Illustration: "He's not a gentleman," she said.--_p. 401._] - -"Yes, my grandfather was dreadfully extravagant, and since father -came into power the agricultural depression was the finishing -stroke. It was cruelly hard to leave the dear old place, but the -mortgagees foreclosed, and we all had to turn out. Dad and mother -went to live in Cornwall, where she owns a tiny cottage. Harold -passed as a doctor, Jack's at Johannesburg, and Ted's in Australia. -Then Connie, my youngest sister, is companion to an old lady, and -Esther and I share a cupboard of a flat with an old schoolfellow, -Mabel Bryan, whose partner I am in a typewriting office. Esther, -who's awfully clever, as well as handsome, and knows several -languages, is corresponding clerk to a firm of shippers. She gets a -hundred a year, and I manage to make about a pound a week; but I'm -not clever, and have to do the best I can. We work awfully hard, but -I really think we are happier than if we had nothing to do." - -"I'm sure you are," sighed May, as her eye fell upon her own dearly -purchased finery. "I must say, I think it very plucky of you to take -it as you do." - -Lulu opened her eyes, for she was not accustomed to pity. "I'm -proud to be a working-woman, and even if I were rich like you, Mrs. -Burnside, I couldn't bear to sit with my hands folded." - -"Rich like me!" May echoed drearily. "I'm not rich; I owe everything -I possess to my aunt." - -"But she's rich, so it must be the same thing," persisted Lulu. - -Just then Harold came hurrying in. "I was as quick as I could be, -Mrs. Burnside," he began, manifestly pleased to find May still -there. With an alarmed glance at the clock, she arose to go, and -said cordially-- - -"I should be so pleased, Dr. Inglis, if you would bring your sister -to see me on Tuesday afternoon." - -"Many thanks, Mrs. Burnside, but I must return by the excursion -train on Tuesday morning," returned Lulu; and May dared not urge the -point. To invite the Inglises to any meal but afternoon tea was out -of her power, for Miss Waller disapproved of promiscuous guests at -luncheon and dinner. So, bidding a cordial farewell to Lulu, May set -forth with Doris to Victoria Square, escorted by happy Harold. - -"I call her a beautiful anomaly!" Lulu observed later on to her -brother, when he asked what she thought of Mrs. Burnside. "At first, -seeing how she was dressed, I concluded she was only a fashionable -butterfly, caring for nothing but amusement. But from her talk I -could see I had been unjust, and that there's nothing she would like -better than being useful and independent. Poor thing! Her face is -one of the saddest I ever saw." - -"I believe she has a very uncomfortable time of it with Miss Waller, -who is a Tartar, from all accounts." - -"Then why does she stay with her?" - -"What else can she do, with that child?" - -An unpleasant quarter of an hour awaited May within her aunt's -door, which she entered with a sinking heart. Doris was instantly -bundled off to bed, after which Miss Waller--in thin, high tones, -very different from her suave society accents--moralised on May's -enormities in absenting herself without notice, whilst Mr. Lang -vainly awaited her return. He had just gone, evidently vexed at her -non-appearance. - -"Mr. Lang has no jurisdiction over me!" May was irritated into -retorting at last, whereupon her aunt's frown became portentous. - -"Mr. Lang is my friend, and, as such, I insist that you treat him -with respect! Pray, who are you, to set your will against mine? I -paid for the very dress you have on, and every article you possess, -and but for me you and Doris would be in the workhouse!" - -May would not trust herself to reply, but went away to her own room, -there to shed some very bitter tears. As she eyed her tall figure in -the glass, arrayed in the beautiful garments for which she had to -pay so dearly, she heartily envied the three happy girls in their -flat, as described by Lulu. How fortunate they were, to be able to -do as they pleased, and indebted to no living soul for anything! -"Oh, to be free!--to be free!" she panted, realising her slavery as -she had never realised it before. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -Bijou's Mistress. - - -When bright-faced Lulu had returned home, brief though her visit had -been, Harold missed her inexpressibly. To vary the monotony of his -dreary rooms, he paid his promised call in Victoria Square, to find -himself promptly relegated to the background by Miss Waller, who -perfectly understood how to snub people without being unladylike. -May, who made tea, hardly uttered a word; and the lion of the -occasion was Mr. Lang, who expatiated on the riches of South Africa -and his own importance on the Randt. - -"You're nowhere unless you've got money nowadays," he confidently -asserted. - -"Oh, but"--expostulated a meek little clergyman's wife, looking -rather shocked, "surely culture goes for something--and -descent--and----" - -"Culture, descent, my dear madam! We haven't time to bother about -such things at Johannesburg! They'd be no use to a man there!" - -"I'm sorry to hear it," Harold was provoked into saying. "My brother -Jack is out there, and I shouldn't like him to come back less of a -gentleman than he went!" - -"What's he doing?" disdainfully drawled the plutocrat. - -"He is in the office of the Victorina Mine." - -"Ah! a good property that--not equal to the Springkloof, though. I -know the Victorina manager; perhaps next time I go out, I may look -your brother up." - -"How kind of you, Mr. Lang!" gushed Miss Waller; but Harold never -said a word. - -"Well now, Miss Waller," said Mr. Lang, "it's time I was returning -to London, and don't you think you ought to give Mrs. Burnside a -little taste of dissipation before the season closes?" - -"I should have taken her to London before, but dear May always says -she doesn't like town," answered the spinster, who always posed as -a most affectionate aunt in public. "I must leave you to try _your_ -persuasions." As she spoke, she darted a glance at her niece which -plainly said, "Refuse to go, if you dare!" - -"London is so hot now--and Doris----" faltered the girl in manifest -dismay. The clergyman's wife took her departure, but Harold sat -doggedly on, determined to hear the result. - -"Doris could be left behind perfectly well," rejoined Mr. Lang, who -disliked the child as much as she disliked him. - -"We shall be very pleased to see a little of London under your -auspices, Mr. Lang," interrupted Miss Waller, in a sub-acid tone. "I -know of some nice rooms near Hyde Park, which will be quieter than a -hotel, and I'll write about them to-night." - -May said no more; but Harold perceived an expression of absolute -despair flit over her features for a moment, and his heart swelled -with pity for her. - -He paced his lonely sitting-room many times that evening, lamenting -his own impotence. A few patients, poor people to whom he was at -home for an hour, mornings and evenings, came to consult him for a -fee of one shilling, medicine included; but even these were few in -number. He had the very deepest sympathy with the poor; but to be -wasting his time here when, in a few days, Mrs. Burnside would be -staying close to that man in Palace Gardens! - -[Illustration: "Harold! Here's that pretty girl in grey."--_p. 402._] - -There was a ring at the bell, and the landlady entered, announcing, -with a smile, "Miss Geare and Miss Pepper." A little, round-faced, -white-haired lady, with curiously wandering light-blue eyes, then -tripped into the room, carrying something carefully in her arms; -followed by a forbidding, tall, dark-haired female, to whom Harold -took an instant and hearty dislike. - -"Oh, doctor!" began the little lady, in a breathless, excited way, -with hardly any stops, "I saw your plate on the door, and I've come -to see if you can cure my darling little Bijon; a great cruel cabman -has just driven over him, and I'm afraid his poor leg's broken. Will -you look?" - -Harold could hardly restrain a smile. "I am not a veterinary -surgeon, madam." - -[Illustration: Harold perceived an expression of despair flit over -her features.--_p. 405._] - -"I told you it was no use coming here," growled Miss Pepper, the -companion, in a voice as unamiable as her face. - -"Oh, but poor Bijou is in such pain!" - -With that Miss Geare burst into passionate tears and again entreated -Harold's aid. To end the tiresome scene, he examined the dog, -unprofessional though it might be, and, finding one of its legs -was broken, improvised splints and set it carefully. Miss Geare's -gratitude was excessive. - -"And you _will_ come and see Bijou, won't you?" implored the old -lady. "He must have attention until he gets well, and I live at -Lyndhurst Lodge, Murray Road." - -Harold demurred, as being unprofessional. - -"Then come to attend _me_," eagerly responded Miss Geare. "I'm often -rather ailing; and you can give Bijou a look at the same time." - -She looked at him so pleadingly that he could not find it in his -heart to say no. She brightened up at his consent, and asked for -a cab, in which to take home her injured darling, and then laid a -sovereign and a shilling on the table. - -"I don't think I am entitled to charge for attending the dog," said -Harold, crimsoning. "Certainly, this is far too much." - -"Watson, the veterinary surgeon, _never_ would have charged a -guinea," indignantly added Miss Pepper; but Miss Geare was resolute, -and when she had departed, it was certainly pleasant to see the gold -piece on the table, sovereigns being sadly scarce with him, poor -fellow! - -He instituted inquiries, and learnt that Miss Geare belonged to a -good family, and was well-off, but somewhat "queer." In early youth -she was engaged to an officer, who was killed at Delhi, and had -become gradually more and more eccentric, until now she only lived -for her dogs and cats. Miss Pepper, it was added, tyrannised over -her shamefully, as though she were the mistress and Miss Geare the -companion. - -The old lady was warm-hearted, though rather fickle, and, having -taken a fancy to Harold, contrived to secure him several fresh -and welcome patients. Miss Geare herself was far from strong, and -afforded a legitimate exercise for Harold's skill, which salved his -conscience in the matter of Bijou. But Miss Pepper remained, from -first to last, distinctly hostile. - - [END OF CHAPTER SIX.] - - - - -CHILDISH MEMORIES OF LEWIS CARROLL. - -By One of his Alices. - - -So many children will grieve over the sad event--the death that -deprived them of one of the best and kindest friends that children -ever came across--the children who have followed "Alice" through -all the wonderful adventures of "Wonderland" will be saddened by -the thought that the hand which held the pen that gave them such -amusement is now still for ever; and the children now grown up who -knew Lewis Carroll personally will look back into the years agone -and remember his delightful stories, and his never-ceasing kindness -towards them in their youthful days. - -[Illustration: LEWIS CARROLL. - -(_At the age of 8._)] - -To my mind Oxford will never be quite the same again, now that so -many of the dear old friends of one's childhood have "gone over to -the great majority." My poor old father, though always wishing to go -for little excursions back to the old University town where so many -years of his life had been spent, came back to his country rectory -in the Cotswold Hills bemoaning the loss of the "many who had gone -before," and how the familiar forms of his old college friends were, -alas! no more to be seen. - -Often, in the twilight, when the flickering firelight danced on the -old wainscoted wall, have we--father and I--chatted over the old -Oxford days and friends, and the merry times we all had together -in Long-Wall Street. I was a nervous, thin, remarkably ugly child, -and, for some years, I might say, I was quite alone in the nursery, -my small, fat baby-brother being much more appreciated than myself. -I was left almost entirely to the kind and gentle mercy of Mary -Pearson, my own particular attendant, and though father, of course, -had commenced his friendship with Mr. Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) long -before, I only remember him first when I was about seven, and from -that time until we went to live in Gloucestershire, he was one of my -most delightful friends. - -[Illustration: (_From a Photo by Lewis Carroll._) - -THE AUTHOR AND HER FATHER (THE REV. E. A. LITTON).] - -I shall never forget when, sitting on a rustic seat with Mr. -Dodgson under a dear old tree in the Botanical Gardens, I heard -for the first time the delightful and ever-entertaining story of -Hans Andersen's "Ugly Duckling." I was devoted to books, and could -read quite well for so small a child, but I cannot explain the -delightful way in which Mr. Dodgson read and told his stories: as -he read, the characters were real flesh and blood--living figures. -This particular story made a great impression on me, and, being -very sensitive about my ugly little self, it greatly interested me. -I remember his impressing upon me that it was better to be good, -truthful, and to try not to think of self, than to be a pretty, -selfish child, spoilt and disagreeable, and he, from that story, -gave me the name of "Ducky," which name clung to me for many years; -in fact, from that day Mary Pearson always called me "Miss Ducky." - -[Illustration: (_From a Photo by Lewis Carroll._) - -THE ORIGINAL OF "ALICE IN WONDERLAND."] - -Many a time has Mr. Dodgson said, "Never mind, little Ducky; perhaps -some day you will turn out a swan." - -I always attribute my love for animals to the teaching of Mr. -Dodgson: his stories of animal life, his knowledge of their lives -and histories, his enthusiasm about birds and butterflies, passed -many a tiresome hour away. The monkeys in the Botanical Gardens were -our special pets, and, oh! the nuts and biscuits we used to give -them! He entered into the spirit of the fun as much as "Ducky" did. - -Then there were the mornings spent in the Christ Church and Merton -meadows: Mary and I took our daily walks abroad there. Years have -passed since then, and I have travelled in many climes, but I always -think that the recollections of the days of one's childhood never -fade. One's views of life, persons, and things were so fresh, so -different from the judgment of things in later years. - -Those meadows were, to me, full of the loveliest -field-flowers--daisies, the beautiful "snake-flower"--so rare, I -understand now--the golden buttercups, the masses of dandelions with -the added, never-failing fun of blowing the downy seeds away. - -Nurse Mary always took thread and a needle in her pocket; these -were for the making of daisy-chains, and, oh! the wreaths we strung -as we sat in the soft grass, with the dear old Broad Walk quite -close, and when we raised our eyes the lovely vision of Merton -College, with its covered walls of Virginian creeper! It all comes -back to me so vividly, though it is now far away in the past years. -And how delighted we were to see the well-known figure in his cap -and gown coming, so swiftly, with his kind smile ready to welcome -the "Ugly Duckling" sitting in the grass! I knew, as he sat beside -me, that a fairy-tale book was hidden in his pocket, or that I -should hear something nice--perhaps a new game or a puzzle--and he -would gravely accept a tiny daisy bouquet for his coat with as much -courtesy as if it had been the finest hot-house _boutonniere_. I was -very proud when, between us, we had made a chain of cuckoo-flowers -and daisy heads long enough to twine round my hat. - -These meadows and the walk along the wall were remarkable then for -the quantity of snails of all kinds that, on fine days and damp -days, came out to take the air, and to me they were objects of great -dislike and horror. Mr. Dodgson so gently and patiently showed me -how silly I was, how harmless the poor snails were, and told me so -much about the shells they carried on their backs, and showed me how -wonderfully they were made, that I soon got over the fright and made -quite a collection of discarded shells; which collection finally -took up its abode in a little crimson-paper trunk that Mr. Dodgson -found at old Mrs. Green's toyshop and bought for me. - -About this time also father had added to my nursery literature -"Ministering Children," "Sandford and Merton," and "Rosamund; or, -The Purple Jar." All these were shown in great glee to my kind -friend, who (as I knew he would) read to me from them. - -Two or three times I went fishing with him from the bank, near the -Old Mill opposite Addison's Walk (Oxford), and he entered quite into -my happiness when a small fish came wriggling up on the end of my -crooked pin and line, just ready for the dinner of the little white -kitten, "Lily," he had given me. - -In those days Addison's Walk had, in season, its banks covered with -pretty periwinkles--white and blue--and there were strict laws not -to pick them. I, childlike, could not resist the temptation, and -one day, Mary being seated at work near by, "Ducky," left to play -alone, gathered a bunch of the coveted beauties, hid them under her -little spencer (a small coat of those days), and trotted by Mary's -side, half-frightened, to the lodge of the gruff old porter, who -sat reading his paper, glancing always at the passers through his -doorway. Nothing escaped his notice. Mary went through and then I, -half-trembling, with the periwinkles closely clasped to my side. -The street gained, I was safe, but (alas! there is always a "but"), -Mr. Dodgson, going to see a friend in the college, came up to me, -saying, "Why so flushed, little Alice? And what is that hanging -below your jacket?" - -The flowers had not gained anything by their hot pressure under my -jacket, and it was a very much ashamed, sad little girl who stood -convicted of flower-theft! - -"Ducky, come with me"; and, taking my unwilling hand, he led me back -to the grim old custodian of the cloisters, to whom I had to deliver -up the now faded periwinkles, and promise future goodness and "never -to do so any more." Then Mary took me in hand, and the quiet little -"weep" I indulged in while going home was much enhanced by the sound -of Mary's voice telling me: "Miss Ducky, you are an awful naughty -child; you have quite disgusted Mr. Dodgson, and you shall go to -your bed without supper." This threat she carried out. - -On Sunday afternoons father used to take me for a walk to St. -John's College gardens, or, perhaps, New College gardens, and as -they--father and Mr. Dodgson--were great friends, he often joined -us. And how I enjoyed all the bright sunshine and the shade of the -mulberry-trees! And then father, tired from his morning services, -snatched a "forty-winks." I revelled in stories of small men and -maidens, stories so entertaining that I thought I could never read -"line upon line" any more; and then there were the stories of the -other little Alice who bore the same initials as myself, and who -was so pretty and behaved so well; who sat before the wonderful -photographing machine and came out a pretty little beggar girl! I am -afraid I was rather envious of this child and a tiny bit jealous, -but I took the greatest interest in what she did and said. And I -remember all this perfectly. - -Before me, as I write, is a likeness of Mr. Dodgson; in fact, two -photographs. These are just as I remember him. It was his sweet -smile and face that endeared him so much to his youthful friends, -his never-failing interest in their childlike joys and sorrows. -Mr. Dodgson was a very quiet, reserved man, and cared little for -society, such as large parties and receptions; but to come and go -as he liked in the homes of those with whom he was intimate, these -visits were some of the pleasures he allowed himself. He also made -very welcome the visits of his child-friends, and it was a great -treat to go to see him in his rooms in Christ Church College. - -My dear father (the Rev. E. A. Litton, a very well known man in -the old Oxford days of sixty years ago) was much attached to Mr. -Dodgson, and they used to meet frequently to discuss points that -interested them both. I was always allowed, if I bore a good record -in the nursery, to join father when he went to Christ Church, and I -knew that, sooner or later during the visit, something good would -be for me. The delicious slices of cake and bread-and-butter, the -glass of creamy milk; the soft pile of cushions on the sofa if I -felt tired, and the glittering little glass balls of his wonderful -game of "Solitaire," for me to play with; the lovely picture-books -which I was so careful not to tear or hurt in any way; and then to -be allowed to look at the portraits of other little friends who knew -and visited him as I did! - -[Illustration: _THE FIRST EARRING._ - -(_From a Drawing by Lewis Carroll._)] - -Mr. Dodgson was a great admirer of photography and he inspired -father with a like enthusiasm, and I am the happy possessor of a -photograph (reproduced on page 407) that our dear friend took at -Christ Church of father and me. Such a good likeness of father -and me, such a lanky, long-legged, shy child, with very short -petticoats, low shoes, and a huge flap hat! More than forty years -has this been taken--the two dear friends gone for ever and only the -photograph remaining as souvenir of the dear old past--it is almost -as fresh as the day it was taken! - -Other likenesses were taken, but, though I have hunted about, I -cannot find them. Also, to my great sorrow, I have lost several -long, illustrated letters written to me with the hope of shaming -me out of several bad habits and faults. One in particular was the -sucking of my thumb, and this Mr. Dodgson always teased me about -very much. One day I received a long letter with funny little -pictures of a small family of birds who would suck their thumbs -(claws). They looked so comical in a row, on a branch, with their -claws in their beaks, and the father- and mother-birds below with -a pot of bitter aloes, a birch-rod, and long muslin bags to tie up -the claws in. The next picture showed the little birds weeping, -with their claws in bags, the father and mother enjoying a good -repast, and the naughty little birds "had none"! And so on all the -way through this most interesting pictorial letter, till the little -birds had no claws left. All sucked away! The story was quite as -interesting as the pictures, and I think it did me good, as Mary -Pearson always read this letter to me whenever I sucked my thumb -more than usual, and protested my thumbs were disappearing as the -birds' claws did, and I was terribly frightened; for Mr. Dodgson -used to say Mary was quite right, and I should be spoken of as "the -little girl without thumbs." - -My hair was a great trouble to me as a child, for it would tangle -and Mary was not over and above patient as I twisted and turned -when she wished to dress it. So one day I received a long, blue -envelope addressed to myself (letters are always so delightful to -children--they raise them almost to the ranks of the "grown-ups"), -and there was a story-letter, all full of drawings, from Mr Dodgson. -The first picture was of a little girl--hat off and tumbled hair -very much _en evidence_--asleep on a rustic bench under a big -tree by the side of a river (supposed to be the dear old seat in -the Botanical Gardens), and two birds holding an evidently most -important conversation above in the branches, their heads on one -side, eyeing the sleeping child. The next picture, the two birds, -flying with twigs and straw, preparing to build a nest; the child -still sleeping and the birds chirping and twittering with the -delight of building their nest in the tangled hair of the child. -Next came the awakening. The work complete, the mother-bird on -her nest, the father-bird flying round the frightened child. And -then, lastly, hundreds of birds--the air thick with them; the child -fleeing; small boys with tin trumpets raised to their lips, and -Nurse Mary, with a basket of brushes and combs, bringing up the -rear! All this, with the well-drawn-out story, cured me of this -fault, and Mary, in after-life, told me she "had no more trouble; -just to open the letter and show the unhappy child in the picture, -and I was 'passive as a lamb.'" Sometimes father would say, patting -my head, "Any more nests to-day, Ducky? Birds would not have a -chance now with this smooth little head." - -[Illustration: LEWIS CARROLL. - -(_The Rev. C. L. Dodgson._)] - -I have grieved greatly that these picture-stories are no more, and, -from several letters which I have seen from other little girls--now -grown up and far away in different parts of the world, their letters -of a like kind have also gone astray and been lost amidst the -movings, changings, and chances of life. - -In after years my father often told me another story of Mr. Dodgson, -which I, being so young, had forgotten. In the very early part of -the time in which I knew him, he one day called in Long-Wall Street -to fetch father to go with him to "The Union" to look into some -particular subject together. Mr. Dodgson was anxious I should go as -well, as, perhaps, we might all take a walk, and as I promised to be -most obedient and good, I was told to go and get my hat. I trotted -along, and, "The Union" reached, was put in a comfortable chair to -wait till they were ready to go on the proposed walk. It was hot, -and I was tired, and the crackling of papers turning over and the -hum of voices lulled me to sleep. I slept on, oblivious of all, and, -I suppose, the two friends, talking intently, forgot my existence -and, in earnest conversation, left "The Union"--and me, sleeping -quietly, quite alone. - -Mr. Dodgson left father in Long-Wall Street, and then went to his -rooms in Christ Church. Suddenly, so the story goes, he thought, "We -went out three; we came back two; where is three?" - -And then it flashed across him that there had been no "three" left -in Long-Wall Street--only his friend--and so "three" must have been -left somewhere on the road. Though it was just the hour of dinner, -this good friend trudged back to "The Union," intent upon finding -the lost lamb, and there I was still asleep, coiled up, as he -expressed it, "like a dormouse." I was taken home tired and a little -cross; it was past my supper-time; I was hungry, and quite ready for -the white sheets and pillows that lead to dreamland. But, always -thoughtful for others, Mr. Dodgson strayed into the ever-famous and -delightful shop of Boffins in "The High," and a sugared Bath-bun and -a glass of jelly revived my drooping spirits and raised my courage -to meet Mary. I was soon given into her care, and my adventures, as -told by Mr. Dodgson, made me quite a heroine, and I felt myself a -person of some importance with a history. - -I had a daily governess, a dear old soul, who used to come every -morning to instruct my youthful mind. I disliked particularly the -large-lettered copies in my writing-book, and, as I confided this -to Mr. Dodgson, he came and set me some copies himself. I remember -two were, "Patience and water-gruel cure gout." (I wondered what -"gout" could be.) "Little girls should be seen and not heard." (This -I thought unkind.) These were written many times over, and I had to -present the pages at the end of the week to him without one blot or -smudge. - -[Illustration: ALICE AND HUMPTY DUMPTY. - -(_From a Photograph._)] - -Magdalen College always, to my childish mind, was a most lovely and -beautiful place, and my favourite walking ground in hot weather -because of the splendid trees. I also had a great admiration for the -many and brilliant-flowered balconies of some of the Fellows of the -College, which looked into High Street just before the Bridge of -Magdalen commenced. One particularly was the show window of the set, -flaming with the most varied colours--vivid geraniums, lobelias, -mignonette, and two tiny mirrors, cleverly inserted amongst the -flowers, so that the person inside could see who was passing, either -way, up or down the street, without being seen himself. - -I was quite at home in these rooms, as they also belonged to a -friend of my father, a Mr. Saul; he was a Fellow of Magdalen, -and I always admired him so much, and thought he could never be -unhappy living in such charming rooms. I can see him now, with his -cheery laugh and white hair, and his very portly figure, and, oh! -the musical instruments that were here, there, and everywhere! Mr. -Dodgson and father and myself all went one afternoon to pay him a -visit. At that time Mr. Saul was very much interested in the study -of the big drum, and, with books before him and a much heated face, -he was in full practice when we arrived. Nothing would do but -that all the party must join in the concert. Father undertook the -'cello, Mr. Dodgson took a comb and paper, and, amidst much fun and -laughter, the walls echoed with the finished roll, or shake, of the -big drum--a roll that was Mr. Saul's delight. All this went on till -some other Oxford Dons (mutual friends) came in to see "if everybody -had gone suddenly cracked." I meanwhile, perched amongst the flowers -and mirrors, joined in the fun by singing and clapping my hands with -delight at the drum, comb, and 'cello. When all had quieted down, a -large musical-box was wound up for my edification; such a treat it -was for me to listen to the beautiful airs! - -[Illustration: THE AGE OF INNOCENCE. - -(_From a Drawing by Lewis Carroll._)] - -Music is, and always has been, the chief delight of my life, and -father always greatly encouraged this taste in me. Many a time, in -our walks amongst the Cotswolds in the long years after, father -would say, "Ducky, do you remember poor old Saul and his big drum? -And the fun we all had together, and how Dr. Bully thought we had -all gone in for Littlemore Asylum? Oh, the dear old days, child! The -dear old days!" And then we would walk on quite silently, father -wrapped in the past, till we reached the ivy-covered rectory and the -lights, and the daily routine of life was taken up once more. - -One more story of my childhood, and then I shall have to write -"Finis" to what to me is so delightful--the shutting of one's eyes -in the twilight and the wandering back into the past with the many -near and dear friends--some now scattered far and wide, others gone -into the "weird unknown." Gone, but ever present in the loving -memories of friends. - -Not very far away from Wadham College (in my remembrance) was a road -leading to "The Parks"; this was also a very nice walk, and the -hedges, when I was a small girl, were full of "ragged robin," wild -roses, and other field flowers. Yellow butterflies and, sometimes, -"peacock" butterflies, could also be found there. So, to the mind -of eight years old, it was a "happy hunting ground" for "eyes that -could see and look for things," and my pockets were generally filled -with great treasures on returning--which treasures, alas! Mary -Pearson always dubbed "Miss Ducky's aggravating rubbish." - -Now father had a great friend living near Park Crescent, and one of -the bonds of sympathy (and a great one it was) between father, Mr. -Dodgson, and the little old gentleman, was mathematics. This friend, -whose name I have forgotten, lived in one of a row of houses at the -top of Park Crescent, and many were the times we all three took -this particular walk together to see the old scholar. My delight -was resting in the pleasant little parlour of the housekeeper, -into whose charge I was always given. She had very beady black -eyes, a bunch of keys at her waist, and a most wonderful cap with -bouquets of flowers intermixed with lace at each of her ears, and -funny little grey curls and combs (like those of the present day) -to fasten them back. I always was most polite to her and put on my -very best manners. To me she was a most potential personage, and her -coltsfoot wine and old-fashioned rock cakes, with which she always -regaled me with no sparing hand, were so delicious! Nowhere else -did these particular dainties seem to me so good. Perhaps hunger -(which is always the best sauce) had something to do with it; but I -know I munched the cakes and gazed intently at the swaying grasses -and flowers on her head, as she told me that she made all the cakes -herself, and also could sometimes make, when little girls were -"extra good," "almond toffee" of the most appetising description. - -[Illustration: - -56. THE WALKING STICK OF DESTINY. - -Ch. 6. - -Hush! The Baron slumbers! Two men with stealthy steps are removing -his strong-box.[2] It is very heavy and their knees tremble, partly -with the weight, partly with fear. He snores and they both start; -the box rattles, not a moment is to be lost; they hasten from the -room. It was very, very hard to get the box out of the window but -they did it at last; though not without making noise enough to -waken ten ordinary sleepers: the Baron, luckily for them, was an -_extra_ordinary sleeper. - - [2] Of it's contents, as afterwards appears were very small. vide - page 27, note (1). - -At a safe distance from the castle, they sat down the box, and -proceeded to force off the lid. Four mortal hours[3] did M^r Millon -Smith and his mysterious companion labor thereat; at sun rise it -flew off with a noise louder than the - - [3] Probably they began at about one o'clock. - -A PAGE FROM THE "UMBRELLA BOOK." - -(_Written and Drawn by Lewis Carroll._)] - -I was always ready to go this walk with father, and I well remember -one occasion on which we went. It must have been about July, for -it was very hot, and the roses and other flowers were all out. Mr. -Dodgson and father enjoyed a chat, while I--with a mind full of rock -cakes, the bright sunshine and all the pretty things of nature in -the hedges, and (oh! happy thought!) perhaps the wonderful toffee at -the walk's end--danced along till the little garden gate was reached -and we all passed through. I always shared my goodies with other -people when I could, and I had promised to save some rock cakes -for father and Mr. Dodgson, for upstairs they were always much too -intent on conversation to think about "refreshments of life," and -these things of which I am writing happened before "afternoon teas" -of four o'clock were ever thought of. - -The toffee was there--rather sticky, owing to the hot weather, but -the almonds looked white and cool; and the green plate of cakes and -the jug with a dog's face for a spout--all were there just ready -for the flushed, tired, little girl. I quite remember the cap that -day, for it had bunches of pink May with "Quaker" grass, and the old -lady told me it was her best summer cap and had cost six shillings -at Oliver's in Corn Market Street. I thought she must be a very rich -woman indeed, and told Mr. Dodgson so that afternoon, when we were -once more together. I remember his laugh as he said, "The female -mind is full of vanity." I wondered what a "female mind" meant, and -father said little girls asked too many questions (he often told me -this part of the story afterwards, when I was grown up), and that I -should not know what it was, even if I were told. Mr. Dodgson said, -"Alice, all things come to those who wait; some time, if God spares -you to grow up, you you will learn many things." - -[Illustration: LEWIS CARROLL IN HIS STUDY AT CHRIST CHURCH.] - -But the pleasant hour spent with the old housekeeper came to an -end, and the bell was rung, which meant that I had to gather myself -together and go home. Two small parcels of toffee and cakes were -given into my willing, open, little hands; a towel was hastily -found to wipe away my general stickiness; and then I went away from -this dear little home into "The Parks" with Mr. Dodgson and father, -homewards. - -It was hot, and I was tired: I am sorry to say that father said I -was "very cross." My little blue shoes, fastened with straps and -tiny pearl buttons, would come undone, and all the brightness and -flowery hedges had lost their charm for the now overdone "Ducky." - -Mr. Dodgson lagged behind, and I saw him looking intently in the -hedges and all about, as if he were searching for something. This -aroused my curiosity. At length, stooping down, he gathered up -something in his handkerchief. I could not see what he had found, -but I felt very much interested. Holding the tied-up handkerchief -above my head, he said, "This is for my other little Alice; she is a -brave girl, and does not cry like a baby at being a wee bit tired. -Oh! such a curious, lovely little flower is tied up here!" - -At this he waved the handkerchief above my head, and I, so anxious -to see what was in it, skipped after him, forgetting the tears and -the tired legs. "Tell me what it is," was my breathless request. - -No answer. Mr. Dodgson danced on, and I followed, father laughing -at the two of us. When we were near dear old Wadham College (not a -great distance from Long-Wall Street), Mr. Dodgson said to me, with -much solemnity, "Alice, did you ever hear of a 'Bella perennis,' -most wonderfully and beautifully made?" - -I was awestruck, and whispered, "Never. Is that it?" - -He nodded, and we went on again till the steps of our house came in -view. By this time I was quiet and wondering, and hoping I should be -allowed to see inside the handkerchief, and look at this wonderful, -mysterious creation. - -Inside our hall was an old oaken bench, and there Mr. Dodgson sat -down; I in front of him, in my favourite attitude, with my long, -skinny arms clasped behind my back. I dare not speak as the knots -were very, very slowly untied, and--oh! only a tiny, withered, -half-dead, little daisy appeared to my astonished view! "Where is -the beautiful 'Bella something?'" I cried, with a half-sob rising in -my throat; I was so bitterly disappointed. - -"This is the 'Bella perennis,' child. See how beautifully and -carefully it is made: one of God's fairest small field-flowers." - -I took it in my hand, and, giving Mr. Dodgson a big hug, I passed -through the baize door, leaving my dear, kind friend with father. - -I never forgot that walk! It made a very deep impression on my -childish mind, not easily effaced in the long after-years. If people -only knew what the sympathy of a "real, grown-up friend" is to a -shy child, what courage it gives to the trembling little heart! How -few children would be set down as shy and stupid, and be thoroughly -misunderstood (as some are now), if only there were more like Mr. -Dodgson, who, though one of the cleverest of men, could yet stoop to -win the love and confidence and enter into the joys and sorrows of -his numerous child friends! - -Perhaps I have wearied many who may read this, and it is time I -should close these past chapters of my "childish memories," shut up -the book, and lay down the pen; but it has been an inexpressible -pleasure to recall, as far as I can, all Mr. Dodgson's kindness to -me and father. Alas! alas! that life should change--on and on--all -the dear, old, familiar places and faces disappear. "Old Tom" still -chimes his daily hours; but the dear footsteps will never more be -heard turning in at the door of the old staircase leading to his -rooms in Christ Church College. Those cheerful rooms, where so many -delightful hours were spent, will know him no more. All is gone now: -only the memory, and the deep respect and love his child friends -bore him, remain. - -Father died on August 27th, 1897, and Mr. Dodgson on January 14th, -1898; and we, who are left behind, can only hope we may meet them -once more in the realms that never change. - - EDITH ALICE MAITLAND. - -[Illustration: THE CHESTNUTS, GUILDFORD. - -(_Where Lewis Carroll died on January 14th, 1898._)] - - - - -[Illustration: GREAT ANNIVERSARIES -_IN MARCH_.] - -By the Rev. A. R. Buckland, M.A., Morning Preacher at the Foundling -Hospital. - -[Illustration: THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. - -(_From the Portrait by G. Romney._)] - - -The March calendar is rich in great names; let us take a selection -in pairs, beginning with illustrious divines. - -There died at Longleat on March 19th, 1710, Thomas Ken, some-time -Bishop of Bath and Wells. The English-speaking world is not likely -altogether to forget him, so long at least as his Morning and -Evening Hymns are sung. He is one of the uncanonised saints of the -English Church, as well as one of the prelates whose names enter -into English history. For Ken was amongst the seven bishops sent -to the Tower by James II., and one of the Non-jurors deprived -under William of Orange. The goodness of the man in an age of sore -temptation has been felt by every generation since his death. On -March 2nd, 1791, John Wesley died. His life is one of the most -astonishing in the religious history of the English people. In its -contrasts (such, for example, as between his life as a College Don -at Oxford and during his mission to Georgia), in its multitudinous -labours, in its immediate influence upon religion in England, and in -the far-reaching results of his work both in America and in Great -Britain, it is without parallel. He is a figure in the religious -history not so much of our own land as of the whole world, wherever -the Anglo-Saxon race has set its foot. - -[Illustration: SIR ISAAC NEWTON.] - -From divines let us pass to men of science. Sir Isaac Newton, one -of the most illustrious natural philosophers, and one of those for -whom room must always be found in even the briefest list of the -greatest Englishmen, died on March 20th, 1727. There is no more -distinguished name amongst the sons of Cambridge University. It was -by the choice of the University that he came into touch with the -political life of the nation, for in 1688 he was sent by it to the -Convention Parliament. Newton's name will never seem amiss in such -company as that of Ken and Wesley, for he was a profound believer -in the Christian faith and a diligent student of the Bible. Newton -was Master of the Mint; and this office was also held by Sir John -Herschel, who was born on March 7th, 1792. His fame is not dimmed in -comparison with that of his father, Sir William Herschel. Although -the son's career was not so striking as that of the "Hanoverian -fiddler," his scientific acquirements were of singular breadth. -At Cambridge, as a very young man, he agreed with two other -undergraduates that they would "do their best to leave the world -wiser than they found it." The compact seemed presumptuous, but in -the case of Herschel it was well kept. - -[Illustration: DAVID LIVINGSTONE. - -(_From the Painting in the possession of the London Missionary -Society._)] - -Two illustrious philanthropists belong to this month. Thomas -Clarkson--still another Cambridge man--was born on March 26th, 1760. -Whilst at the University he won the Vice-Chancellor's prize for a -dissertation on the question, "Is it lawful to make slaves of men -against their will?" Working at this essay, he became so impressed -with the duty of fighting the slave-trade that he resolved to give -himself up to the work. He lived to see his ends attained as regards -Great Britain. There is a natural link between Clarkson's work for -the African, and the life-work of David Livingstone (born March -19th, 1813). Livingstone was very far from being merely an explorer, -or an explorer with missionary instincts; he knew that to kill the -slave-trade in Africa the country must be opened up, and he gave his -life to another side of the same work which Clarkson had toiled for. - -[Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN. JEFFERSON DAVIS. - -(_Two Notable Americans._)] - -March is a great month in the independent history of the United -States, and in the official lives of its Presidents. It has its sad -memories, too, though memories that no longer appeal to passion. It -was in March, 1861, that Jefferson Davis and Abraham Lincoln found -the North and the South just on the brink of open war. It was in -March also, in the year 1852, that Mrs. Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" -was first published. That is one of the few literary anniversaries -that will always be connected with political history. - -[Illustration: MRS. BEECHER STOWE. - -(_At the time she wrote "Uncle Tom's Cabin."_)] - -India offers us two memorable names. John Lawrence, Henry's -younger brother, was born on March 24th, 1811. One of the wisest -of Indian administrators, he would have been great had the Mutiny -never occurred. As it is, other achievements are forgotten in the -promptitude and skill which marked his conduct then. He is buried in -Westminster Abbey, and near him lies Sir James Outram, "the Bayard -of India," who died on March 11th, 1863. - -[Illustration: BUST OF LORD LAWRENCE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.] - -So much for men; now for organisations. On March 8th, 1698-99, was -founded the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. On March -13th, 1701, the Lower House of Canterbury Convocation appointed -the committee to "inquire into ways and means for promoting the -Christian religion in our foreign plantations," which led to -the founding of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. -The British and Foreign Bible Society was founded on March 7th, -1804. On March 4th, 1824, at a meeting held at the London Tavern, -under the presidency of Archbishop Manners-Sutton, "The Royal -National Institution for the Preservation of Life from Ship-wreck" -was launched. Its present title, the Royal National Lifeboat -Institution, was adopted in 1854. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -BRITISH AND FOREIGN BIBLE SOCIETY'S PREMISES.] - - - - -CHRISTABEL'S REBELLION. - -AN EPISODE. - -By E. S. Curry, Author of "The Twins," Etc. - - -Nora was putting on her hat in her own room; Christopher, her little -son, was being dressed in the nursery to accompany her; Christabel, -his twin sister, was in her own pertinacious way arguing with her -mother. The Twins, known as Punch and Judy, had reached the age of -two. Each had a will, and a method of making it known--though in -this respect Judy caused most perplexity to her young parents. She -was now asserting it. - -"Me go too, mummie," in a decided tone, for the sixth time. - -"No, Judy--not this time. Your turn next," Nora said cheerfully. - -She did not like separating the twins, but one was as much as she -could reasonably take to an afternoon tea party. They must learn -some time to be divided, she thought sadly, after reflecting on the -woes of the world. - -"Me s'all go, mummie," in beautifully clear accents, with a charming -smile. - -"Shall you, dear? Yes, next time," Nora said, bending over the vivid -little face, just the height of her dressing-table. - -"If we're not back when father comes in," she went on, suggesting -solace, "will you take care of him, Judy, and love him?" - -"Yuv father," murmurously assented the baby, busy with a knot in her -pink pinafore. - -"And don't take off your pinafore, Judy," said her mother. - -"Goin' out to tea," responded Judy. "Off!" releasing one little -white serge shoulder from the enclosing cotton. - -Nora moved about her room for a few more minutes before she went -to the nursery to pick up her little son. Judy, trotting after, -was kissed at the top of the staircase, and, with a sombre fire in -her brilliant eyes, watched the descent of Christopher. His air of -triumph as he stamped his booted feet on every stair was no doubt -aggravating. - -It was a cold March day, and, as she noted his gaitered legs, Judy -glanced down at her own bare toes. At the sight of his hat, firmly -set upon the soft fair curls, Judy lifted her chubby hands to her -own bare head--bare but for its clustering brown waves with their -tips of gold. A deep sense of unfair treatment, of unjust neglect, -flitted across the baby's mind. A great determination filled it. - -Nurse went through the open nursery door in a busy manner. It was -Jane's afternoon out, and there was a good deal to tidy up. In two -minutes Judy, after a fashion of her own, was at the bottom of the -wide staircase, a lonely little figure, standing for a moment on -the rug before the log fire. Finding the hall door shut and the -drawing-room door open, the baby stepped into the conservatory, and -was soon trotting down the drive. Her shoulders were set sturdily -to a great effort. No one seeing her could possibly mistake their -expression. She was going out to tea. - -Outside the gates, left open for the exit of a carriage, Judy -paused. Just before her, four roads crossed. Three she knew -well--one led to the village, the other two were the routes of daily -outings. The fourth was forbidden to the nurses because of a big -public-house a quarter of a mile away--a rendezvous of trippers from -London. Along this road the little figure turned. - -A bicyclist rang his bell and startled her, whizzing close by her, -as she did not move from the middle of the road. A man in a cart -evaded her, pausing to look down with interest at the bare-headed -little traveller. - -"My! she's a little 'un to be about alone," he thought, turning in -his seat to look after the purposeful little figure. He scratched -his head and thought of his own baby, about the same size, and for a -moment was tempted to turn his cart and go after her. - -"She hadn't ought to have been let go out by herself," he thought, -indignant with some neglectful guardian. "A little gipsy child, -p'raps--never taught not to run in the middle of the road." - -Unwitting of the kindly thought that followed her, Judy ran on--now -and then pausing for a second to glance about her, her bare feet -and uncovered head seeming to reck nothing of the cold spring -wind. A timber waggon, drawn by three huge horses, and guided by a -carter cracking his whip, made her flit in momentary tremor, with -hunched shoulders, to the side of the road, from which security she, -however, surveyed their passage with sparkling eyes. Holding out her -arms in ecstatic approval, she urged shrilly. "Gee-gee--go, go"; -and the carter glanced at her bright face, under its touzled waves -of hair, admiringly. - -"She's a spirit of her own," he thought, bestowing a momentary -wonder on her lone condition as he passed. - -The dust from the grinding wheels settled, and Judy pursued her way. -Who can tell what thoughts were directing her progress, or whether -she ever wondered where the tea she was in search of was to come -from? She went on. - -Presently a wayside inn, withdrawn a little from the road, with its -sign-post shaking and creaking in the wind before it, came into -view. Judy stopped and put her finger in her mouth, considering. -This was a house. Here was tea. - -In a doorway stood a man, round and red-faced. He had no coat, and -his waistcoat had seen better days, whilst a battered felt hat was -on his head. He was gazing into space, with little sharp eyes set -under overhanging, beetling brows. - -Judy drew nearer. Something in his appearance fascinated her. -Possibly its untidy dishevelment touched a fellow-feeling and -appealed to her reckless mood. At that moment nothing was doing, and -the potman was smoking a dirty pipe when Judy drew near and surveyed -him. For a moment or so the two looked at each other in silence. -Judy spoke first. - -"Tea!" she demanded imperiously. - -"Tea!" he repeated, amazed. And then he stooped and touched the -velvet of her cheek softly with his hand, and lifted the waves of -her overshadowing hair. "Who are you?" he asked. - -"Tea," answered Judy, and a little appeal had crept into her tone -and into the beautiful dark eyes. The potman's resemblance to her -friend the gardener was not so great, on nearer acquaintance, as she -had at first thought. - -"You want your tea, missy? Is that it?" - -And, receiving a little nod and a charming smile, he lifted himself -and scratched his head. - -"There ain't no tea--but there's some milk" (his face suddenly -brightening), "and one of them big buns. It's a bit stale--but if -she's hungry." - -He disappeared, and Judy, after a second's pause of indecision, -elected not to follow him. The interior into which he had vanished -was not inviting. There was a little porch to the closed front -door, with wooden seats on either side, and these now caught Judy's -vision. Trotting thither, she essayed to climb. - -[Illustration: "My! she's a little 'un to be about alone."] - -"Up," she demanded, when the potman returned, carrying a mug of milk -and a very large scone. - -Safely seated, with the mug beside her, and the scone held -carefully in both hands, she remarked in cheerful accents--"Out to -tea," looking at him for corroboration. - -"Out to tea? Yes, missy--where do you come from?" he answered. -"What's yer mother thinking of to let yer out alone?" he asked. - -Judy opened her mouth and fastened her little white teeth into the -big stale bun, condescending no answer to inconvenient questions. -The potman sat down opposite her and proceeded in his attempts. - -"What's yer name, missy?" he asked again. "Ain't yer got one?" as -Judy, disregarding him, seemed bent on demolishing the bun. She -nibbled all round it, holding it with both hands, serenely callous -to her companion's beguilements. - -"Doody," at last she vouchsafed, in a pause for rest, looking -interestedly at the pattern she had vandyked. - -"That's a funny name. Ain't you got another?" he inquired. - -A reminiscent smile broke over the vivid face. - -"Daddy's Kistabel," she murmured softly, removing her eyes from his -face and considering another bite. - -"An' yer daddy might do worse nor kiss you, I reckon," admiringly; -"but it's a rummy one, too." - -The flash of the dark eyes opposite was irresistible. It awoke good -thoughts in the potman's mind. - -"You've runned away, I reckon?" he observed, bending forward. - -Judy looked all over the ugly face thus presented to her immediate -vision. Its corrugated surface fascinated her. Stretching one hand -out, she softly touched the knobbly nose and laughed aloud, hunching -her shoulders in glee. - -Her own flower-like face was an equal attraction to the potman. - -"Lilies an' roses ain't in it with her," he murmured admiringly. -"An' eyes as big as plums and as dark as--stout." - -"Where do yer live?" he next essayed. - -"D'ink," said Judy, occupied with the problem of what was to be -done with the bun whilst she drank from the mug beside her. "'Old!" -she commanded, holding out the bun, as she realised that her own -dangling legs made a very unstable, insufficient knee. - -"Bless yer, missy, look at my 'ands!" the potman answered. - -Judy looked, bending her dainty face with keen interest above the -members, encrusted with dirt and neglect, held out before her. - -"Dirty!" she exclaimed delightedly, lifting sympathetic eyes to the -equally dirty face, and she laughed again in keen enjoyment. Dirt -always commanded Judy's suffrages. - -"'Old!" she commanded again, undaunted by the sight presented to -her; and with sweet and dainty curvings of her soft fingers she -pressed the nibbled scone upon the greasy palms. Then the potman -handed her the mug and Judy drank. - -"Out to tea?" she said again, a little doubtfully, as, her draught -finished, she recovered her scone. - -But the rosy mouth paused half-open, and Judy's eyes fixed -themselves observantly on an advancing figure. - -"Man," she said, directing the potman's gaze to the road. It was a -policeman passing by, and the potman stood up alertly. - -"Here," he called, "here's a little gel." And the two men stood -solemnly regarding Judy. "I 'xpect she's lost," he suggested slowly. - -The policeman's eyes fixed themselves on the dainty embroidery of -Judy's little petticoat, visible under her lifted skirt--a contrast -to the bare and dusty ankles it enclosed. The dragged-aside cotton -pinafore, from which one arm was freed, revealed the elaborate -smocking with which nurse was wont to ornament the simple frock. -Lastly, Judy's face came in for careful scrutiny. - -"How did you pick her up?" he asked. - -"She come." - -"Which direction?" - -"Along the road, trotting along all by herself." - -"Then I'll take her back. Seems to me she is uncommon like one of -a pair I sometimes see--beauties, both of them; though how the -mischief----Come with me, missy," he wheedled, stooping and holding -out his arms. - -"Out to tea," said Judy. - -"Yes, so you are. You been out to tea, ain't you?" he sympathised. -And Judy, satisfied, holding out her arms, allowed herself to be -annexed. - -But she was not carried off without a little scene. - -In the policeman's arms a sudden recollection of her "manners" -flashed across her mind. - -"Bye, bye," she said, holding out one hand in a dignified fashion to -the potman. With the other she still retained the bun. - -"Bye, bye, missy," he responded, much gratified. - -"Bye, bye," Judy repeated; and then, her vivid face all dimpling -into smiles, she flung herself forward and clasped her arms round -his neck. What to Judy were dirt and knobbliness? Both were -fascinating, both were associated with the delight of having her -own way. With a fervid embrace and a wet kiss Judy bestowed her -gratitude. - -There was weeping and wringing of hands and the rush of petticoats -up and down and in and out, and flying figures darting about, when -the policeman, with Judy in charge, arrived at the gates of Mount -Royal. Judy's father had just come from the train, and was trying to -find out from his agitated household what was the matter, when the -tall, dark figure with the little pink one in his arms appeared. - -"Oh, Judy!" reproached nurse, pallid to her lips, snatching her -charge from the policeman's arms and agitatedly examining all her -limbs. "Such a disgrace!" she exclaimed, looking angrily at the -policeman. - -"I thought I knew her, miss," he said politely, grinning. Nurse had -haughtily snubbed him once or twice in her walks. - -[Illustration: "Bye, bye," she said.] - -"Out to tea," Judy said triumphantly, as she was caught up into her -father's embrace. - - * * * * * - -Christopher, breaking away from nurse's attentions, on his return -home, stamped loudly round the nursery floor to attract the envious -attention of Judy. - -Judy's attire had been remodelled throughout, as a prelude to the -hour in the drawing-room before bed-time; and she was now sitting on -the window seat in a mood of subdued and passive triumph. "Go agen," -she had murmured softly two or three times to herself, too much -occupied with the sweets of memory to heed, as she otherwise would -have done, Punch's aggravations. - -Stamping round being deprived of its attraction, Punch paused and -approached his sister. - -"Poor Doody," he said pityingly. - -Judy's eyes flashed in the manner which always made Punch conscious -of wonder that he had felt called upon to speak. He hastened to -appease her. - -"Punch's boots a-comin' off," he said. - -"Doody don't want no boots," she said shrilly; "never don't want no -boots, Doody don't." - -"No," agreed Punch, in the tone of one who humours. "Ain't been out -to tea," he suggested. - -"Has!" screamed Judy. "Doody has!" - -The blue eyes looked searchingly into the dark ones, and, with a -qualm of disappointment, Punch felt the force of truth. - -"Cake?" he asked presently, after silently observing her. - -Judy shook her head violently, the violence intended to hide the -mortification of having to confess the absence of the delicacy. - -"Punch did," he said. "Cake, an' tea, an'----" - -"Bun?" burst in Judy; and then it was Punch's turn to look -disappointed. Buns had not been provided at his entertainment. - -"Doody did," went on Judy; "an' milk, an'----" - -"Punch had tea," interrupted Christopher. - -"An' man," went on Judy, with immense emphasis. - -Christopher looked at her solemnly, as he dived into the recesses of -his memory; not a man had graced his tea-party! - -"Man?" persisted Judy, searching his eyes with her blazing orbs. - -There was a silence. - -"Punch are goin' to muvver," the boy then announced cheerfully, -freeing his legs from Judy's petticoats with a vigorous kick. - -"Man!" shrieked Judy after his retreating figure, too much taken by -surprise to lift herself so suddenly. Then she, too, got up, shook -herself, and with a dash was through the nursery door. - -"Out to tea agen," she sang out, trotting fast along the corridor. - - * * * * * - -But alas! for Judy. All the doors and gates were fast, and for a -week they were kept carefully closed. - -[Illustration: "Man!" shrieked Judy.] - - - - -[Illustration: COUNTING NOT THE COST - -(_Photo: H. S. Mendelssohn, Pembridge Crescent, W._)] - -By the Rev. C. Silvester Horne, M.A. - - "When His disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, To - what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been - sold for much, and given to the poor."--ST. MATTHEW - xxvi. 8, 9. - - -Blessed is the love that counteth not the cost of sacrifice! Thus -I read the meaning of the Master's recognition of this act of -homage--the form in which a devout and eager spirit of reverence -found expression and articulation. This woman, by surrendering -herself to the impulse of adoration and affection, laid herself -open to the criticisms of the self-constituted champions of common -sense, utility, and philanthropy. We shall see, as we look at her -story, how, in the regard of Heaven, what I might venture to call a -genuine and spontaneous extravagance ranks higher than a legal and -mechanical economy. - -There is a truth we have not anything like exhausted yet in the -great words of Christ, "He who saves [or hoards] his life shall lose -it." Parsimony, if we knew it, impoverishes as well as extravagance. -If the prodigal had turned miser, he would have remained just as -far from the father's house. We do not accuse the disciples for a -moment of selfishness or greed. If they misconstrued Mary's motive, -let us beware lest we misconstrue theirs. Say they were honest and -genuine, but that they lacked insight and that emancipation from the -commercial spirit which saves men from estimating all precious and -lovely things at their market value. - -We need the lesson. No century has needed it more. While love -in self-forgetfulness and holy passion is spending itself in -the tenderest offices that an overflowing heart has suggested, -the disciples are engaged in problems of valuation, working out -calculations in arithmetic--so much ointment at so much per pound. -But that would have been condemned by many who would yet ask -themselves seriously whether their main contention was not right. -Their blunt and rude interruption showed lack of feeling; it was -vulgar and inexcusable. Granted. But if they had quietly sympathised -with the good intention, and yet afterwards had clearly represented -that here love had loved "not wisely but too well," and had done -better if it had selected some more practical method in which to -exhibit its reality, would they not have commanded a very general -assent? Would not nine out of every ten have said that she could -have laid out the money to better advantage, and that it was a -holier thing to clothe and feed the persons of the poor than even to -anoint the person of the Christ? - -Now let me say that I do not think we can understand our Saviour's -commendation of this deed of love, and this apparent disregard of -principles of utility and practical philanthropy, unless we take at -once a large and a deep view of life--its purpose and the methods of -its education. The pressure of the material necessities is constant -and urgent, I know; but God does not mean us to believe that the -supreme questions of life are "What shall we eat, and what shall we -drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" - -When Christ propounded His query to the multitudes on the mount, -"Is not the life more than meat, and the body than the raiment?" -He demanded in reality their assent to the proposition that the -spiritual life is the supremely important. The fact of the matter -is, God has never treated man as if he were made to eat and drink -because to-morrow he must die. The world is not designed simply to -promote our physical well-being, and conducted on purely utilitarian -principles, as if it were some sort of gigantic store in which all -men were shareholders, and the sole business of which was to produce -certain annual profits. That mode of regarding the universe is -popular, but false. - -Have you ever asked yourselves the question, "What do the spring -flowers mean?" I have sometimes tried to fancy men gloomily riding -to the city and sulkily pointing to the wealth of ephemeral beauty -that has glorified the world, and demanding, "To what purpose is -this waste?" There the flowers bloom, so fragile, so delicate, so -short-lived; here to-day, and faded and gone to-morrow: to-day, -a quivering point of beauty and fragrance, to-morrow touched by -the withering finger of decay. And so "they bloom their hour and -fade," and we say in wonder, "To what purpose was this waste?" What -did it all mean? One sudden, genuine gush of sacred feeling; one -burst of almost overpowering glory that shone steadfast for one -brief hour and then faded into nothingness. Why lavish such wealth -of colour and sweetness on fabrics so short-lived as the flowers -of spring? Ah, why, indeed! Long years before man brake the first -poor spikenard vessel of worship and adoring love at the feet of -the Eternal, God poured His precious gifts of bloom and scent in -bewildering profusion and prodigality upon the listless sons of -earth. - -I have sometimes wondered whether man might not have gone on -conceiving of the world as no more than so much food, and clothing, -and shelter, if God had not startled him by this annual miracle of -spring to ask the question, "To what purpose is this waste?" Just -so soon as man found himself appealed to in the higher faculties -and senses, did he begin to suspect himself above the brute; did -he begin to discover beneath the form of things a gracious and -bountiful Spirit, whose attitude to him found voice in these tender -and winsome words of Nature's lips. - -Flowers "born to blush unseen and waste their sweetness on the -desert air"--to what purpose are they? Surely, surely (as Mary's -offering of sweet spikenard) they are God's approach to man, if only -we would accept them as such. That is the inner meaning of this -sudden gush of sacred feeling; that is the purpose of this "waste." - -We are reaching, then, this conclusion, that if love is the soul of -life, you must expect no mere dead level of respect, but occasional -inevitable outbursts of feeling, love's sweet surprises; times when -the ordinary prescribed channels through which habitual affection -flows are inadequate, and when there must be room for the sweet -extravagances of love. The strong, deep love of a father may no -doubt be felt in the steadfast care that provides food and clothing, -and shelter, and all things necessary for his child. But, after all, -home would not be home if there were not room for the rarer gifts, -and the moments of sublime _abandon_, when all the love of the heart -breaks forth in unconstrained demonstration of affection. - -Life that is love cannot be reduced to formalities; there must -be a place in it for the spontaneous, the unpremeditated, the -irresistible impulse. Love cannot live and thrive amid conventions -merely. It has an etiquette of its own. It must be allowed to make -its own proprieties. If you cannot appoint to it an object, and -command one mortal to love another, neither can you prescribe the -manner of its operation. You cannot control its whims, and freaks, -and fancies. It has ten thousand devices that are all enigmas to the -uninitiate. - - "Love only knoweth whence they came, and comprehendeth love." - -Its sanities are stark madness to the matter-of-fact man of affairs. -He curtly denominates nonsense what to love is inspiration. -He stares in blank incredulity at the simple and magnificent -prodigalities of love, and begins to wonder whether he is himself -quite sane to-day, and to ask in sheer stupor, "To what purpose is -this waste?" - -It would not do, perhaps, to make too searching a scrutiny into -private personal histories, or it might transpire that, after all, -behind even the most stolid of demeanours there lay experiences -which memory treasures still, and which are the vindication to -them of Mary's sublime extravagance. Yes, perhaps those you least -suspect--the level-headed men who are feared for their hard thinking -and steely, immovable stolidity, have secret drawers somewhere, with -strangely unintelligible relics of a yesterday that was the greatest -day of their life--and the least defensible day on any rationalistic -view of it! On that day they lost either their head or their heart, -or both, and love and reverence found expression; and the spikenard -that they broke that day is the _one_ precious memory in what people -with unconscious irony are calling a successful career. Yes, the -one thing they are proud to have done, the one thing they sometimes -think may stand them in stead in a world where wealth and fame will -be as nothing, is a thing which none could justify on commercial -principles--which stands in conflict with the great aims and efforts -of their lives--an action that sprang inevitably from a spendthrift -love, and of which the world in which they move might well demand, -"To what purpose is this waste?" I venture to say that by that very -chapter of their history the possibility is proved that, some day, -they may discover a more amazing loveliness and a more overpowering -love; and may offer even nobler offerings of life and treasure at -His feet, and go forth again, not in shame, but in holy pride and -devout thanksgiving that at last they have learned to love with a -love that counteth not the cost of sacrifice. - -I have seen this exquisite story quoted as a defence of mere -ritual. The method is obvious. The hardened lover of simplicity is -represented as one of the disciples; and beholding the beauty of -architecture, and the stateliness of the ceremonial, and listening -to the superb eloquence of the liturgy and grandeur of the music, he -asks, "To what purpose is this waste?" - -There is a superficial justification for such teaching. But it is -only superficial. For if from this incident it be attempted to -establish a precedent for permanent elaborate ritual of worship, -it must be said this incident goes to prove its impossibility. For -ask yourselves, What gave this deed its peculiar and unrivalled -power and influence? There is only one answer. It lies in its -solitariness. It was spontaneous. It was unique. It could not bear -repetition. To repeat it were to rob it of its bloom. - -We repudiate, then, the idea that the form of this deed can become -the basis of Christian worship. But we are now able to consider the -truth that, when love realises itself thus in deeds of worship, it -often receives assurances that it has done more than it knew. God -interprets our poor intentions so liberally, so largely. He reads -into our broken speech such divine meanings. It is ever so. We give -a cup of cold water to a thirsty bairn; and lo! we have done it -_unto Him_! We utter our coarse earthly strains of music; and, one -day, He bids us hearken! Then there falls upon our ears ravishing -heavenly music; and when we could fall down and worship, He tells us -it is our own. - -Heaven's great melodies are perhaps no more than earth's poor -ones, composed in pure love and praise of God, redeemed from their -limitations and imperfections in the home of all true worship. -So Mary struck her trembling chord, and waited fearful; broke -her spikenard, and then marvelled at her own daring; and while, -when love had spent itself, a colder mood began to question the -propriety, and to strike fear to her woman's heart, Jesus spake and -said, "In that she hath poured this ointment on Me, she hath done it -for My burial." - -Would she ever have dreamed, think you, that she was doing what -He said? Would she ever have dared to entertain the thought that -He would bear to the grave the incense of her adoration, and that -with the final victory of His resurrection her love and worship -would have eternal association? Would she ever have dreamed, here -in Simon's house, where she was esteemed so meanly and treated so -basely--here, amid the splendour of a rich man's entertainment--that -in the days when the world had no feasts for Him, but only a cross -and a tomb, that then the perfume of her love, the fragrance of her -offerings, would surround His form and sweeten His resting-place. -Never; but so it was, for the Divine Love caught up the simple act -of worship, and gave it eternal distinction. Yea, He who had come to -seek the love of men deigned to associate with the time of His own -immortal sacrifice this sacrifice of hers. - -It were, perhaps, to require too much of this story to make it -convey the great truth that in Christ's sacrifice all our sacrifices -have a place. Yet, verily, every true sacrifice hath association -with His. Every death to self is an anointing of the Holy One to -His burial. He gathers up the perfume of all simple deeds of lowly -sacrifice; for this is His reward. Only from the great Love does -our love flow. We love because He loved. His sacrifice is the basis -of all sacrifice; and all true sacrifice of ours hath this relation -to His own. We did not think when we did it of anything but that we -must do it unto Him; and in grace He showed us afterwards that we -had indeed anointed Him--we had in our own poor way honoured the -Divine sacrifice. - -It would but mar the solemn influence of such a sacred reflection -to deduce the obvious and inevitable lessons. I forbear to treat it -thus. I can only say, let us pray and let us strive to love Him with -the love that counteth not the cost of sacrifice. - - - - -[Illustration: THE GREEN FOLK] - -A Complete Story. By Ethel F. Heddle. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -ISHBEL. - - -One is pretty safe to address a man in Skye as Macdonald! If that -fails, then try MacLeod, and if this produces no result, then there -is still Nicolson to fall back on. An error in all three is next -door to an impossibility! But Ishbel had not any of these three -names, though she lived with her maternal grandfather, who was a -MacLeod. - -Ishbel was a changeling. Anyone would tell you so in Skye--if, -perhaps, one or two smiled in the telling. Her grandmother, Catriona -MacLeod, said so, and Catriona had the second sight, and saw more -than most people. She was held in Skye to see, indeed, beyond that -veil which mercifully hides the future. Catriona had early said -the girl was a changeling. Her daughter, poor Kirstie, died at the -baby's birth, her father Roderick McNeill, was drowned--tragedy and -sorrow surrounded the baby, and then the little green folk stole it, -and Ishbel was the changeling popularly supposed to be left in its -place. - -She was always an odd child, Catriona said, with ruddy tawny -locks, and sloe-eyes, elfish and silent, doing queer, uncanny, -unaccountable things, with moods of sadness and moods of mirth. She -grew up in Skye, and would never leave it, though she had her chance -to do so. - -Ishbel lived with Catriona till she was nineteen, and helped her -with her spinning and knitting; she also milked the cows, and worked -about the house. The girl's head was full of her grandmother's -teaching; she believed in the fairies, though she rarely spoke of -them. Her cousin Duncan often found her seated in the fairy-ring on -the knowe, above the sheiling, picking the green grass absently, and -gazing "frae her." - -Some day, she thought, she would hear the tap of fairy feet in their -revels, hear a tiny voice which would beckon her to an entrancing -world, very different even from lovely Skye. Very often she thought -she had been on the brink of meeting the little green folk, and then -someone had come and interrupted her. There was that night coming -home over the muir from Portree--the stream, richly brown with the -peat over which it gurgled, the air heather-scented, the mountains -fading into the lovely purple of the night's embrace--everything -hushed, save her own footfall. Ishbel had seemed to hear a voice -calling her then, and had wandered up amongst the heather, her face -eager and expectant. And there above her on the heather knoll, "the -wee folks' knowe," seeming to float between the grey lichen-covered -boulders--surely these were tiny white figures, beckoning to her? - -She almost ran, in her eagerness, but, just as she approached, -Duncan's voice hailed her from the high road. What was she doing -there? And was that the way home? - -Ishbel almost wept as she descended. For she could see nothing near -the boulders then but waving cotton-grass amongst the bog and -heather. It was lovely September now, and the hill-sides were a -glory of tawny colouring, the fading heather and bracken, purple and -brown, and orange, and gold, and dusky indescribable grey. Sunset -came early, and tinged and stained the loch, the Cuchillans stood -out sharply in their lovely serrated outline, against a background -of pure gold--they were almost friendly and neighbourly, and -approachable; it was in winter that they lowered and sulked in the -mist, or frowned blackly from amongst the lashing swirls of rain. - -Ishbel had gone to fetch fodder for the cows, and the fodder was -a great pile of pale yellow bracken, which she bound together -and fastened on her back. Carrying this, she passed up the road, -pausing now and then to lean her load on one of the rough dykes -which bordered the muir. It was nearing evening, and shadows were -creeping over the heather--the burn, amber-coloured under the -sun, looked dark and sullen-brown now, and had begun its hoarse -night-song, for it only sings in the dark. The deer hear and love -this song as they creep down cautiously, light-footedly, turning -startled graceful heads from side to side, and they pause a moment, -poised with listening ear, before they bury thirsty soft noses into -the cool rushing water. The deer did not mind Ishbel! But it was -scarcely dark enough for the deer to come yet. There was still a -chance of the passing tourist from Sligachan, coming from Coruisk, -the far-famed. Ishbel, pausing to rest the high load of bracken -on the dyke--the crushed yellow fern making a lovely setting to -her tawny locks and black sloe-eyes--suddenly perceived two men -approaching, and waited for their coming with something of the -deer's startled look. One was Duncan MacLeod, her cousin, short, -swarthy, black-browed, with a twinkle of cunning in his grey eyes, -and a Highland sing-song voice; and the other? Yes, yes, she had -seen the other at the Portree games, and he had tossed the caber -further than even Colin MacNeil, and his name was Rory MacPhee! -Ishbel remembered him very well, and a little smile melted over her -red lips, and lurked in the depths of her lovely eyes as Duncan made -him known to her. Rory had rented the small farm next to Catriona's, -and he was coming to supper. It was time she, Ishbel, was home. - -Duncan did not offer to take the fodder from her, though he thought -he was in love with Ishbel, and meant to marry her. Women were used -to burdens in Skye. But Rory MacPhee, saying nothing, began to untie -the rope at the girl's waist, and he swung the mass lightly over his -own shoulders. - -"Och! that is not needful," Duncan said. And what he thought was -"_Amadan!_" (stupid!) - -"It is too heavy for a lass." - -That was all; but Rory and Ishbel did not meet each other's eyes, -and they walked home silent through the creeping dusk. - -By the red peat-glow in the cottage she looked lovelier than -ever; MacPhee ate little, and his mind was in a curious turmoil. -Catriona's remarks, and Duncan's slow efforts at conversation--for -the Highlander is desperately cautious at making friends, and Rory -came from as far away as above Portree, seven miles off--fell on -strangely dull ears. - -What had come to him? - -Rory asked himself the question all next day, for, amidst even the -sordid duties of examining the new byres and out-houses, there -floated before his mind only one picture--a girl's slim figure in a -short faded green skirt, leaning against a dyke, with her small head -crushed against a background of faded fern, and the shy lovely eyes -looking into his face. - -Ishbel! They said she was a changeling. - -Well, changeling and all, he loved her! - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -ISHBEL'S PROMISE. - - -"It is no use at all to go against the lass. I hef said so before -now. And there are many lasses in Skye, as good as she, and with, -maybe, a cow or two, or a few pounds to bring with her. There is -Sheila Macdonald--Sheila will hef as much as three hundred pounds!" - -"As if I would look at a squinting woman"--and Duncan threw down the -fishing-rod he held, furiously--"I will hef none but Ishbel, and if -she will not hef me, I will do someone an injury!" - -His mother went on peeling potatoes, deliberately. - -"Rory MacPhee is stronger and bigger than you," she remarked. "And -he has the eye of a hawk, and his fist is like iron. You will never -take Ishbel from him by force. But perhaps, now, there might be a -little plan--chust a little plan." - -He picked up the rod. His cunning eyes grew intent. Catriona -resumed, in her high-pitched voice, speaking without a pause in her -occupation: "The best thing would be that they would quarrel. And -I will tell you a way. He does not like to hear that they are all -saying she is a changeling; and he does not like her to talk of the -good folk. When she told him the story of the kelpie that followed -Ross MacRae over the muir, and drowned him at last in the Rowan -Pool, he was angry, and called it all nonsense, and said that she -should not repeat such folly. And Ishbel did not like that. She was -asking me about the Cave of Gold only yesterday, and when it was -that anyone might see the fairies dancing, and if the tide would -suit to go. So I told her it was on Midsummer's Night at twelve -o'clock, and she is just mad to go! Chust as mad! But Rory was -there, too, and I was listening at the door, after, and I heard him -say that it was all just talk and folly, and that he would not have -her go; that it was too late, and that squalls came on, and our boat -was not good at all. She begged and prayed that he would take her, -and he said, 'No'! Chust always, 'No'!" - -"Very well, then," Duncan cried impatiently, as she paused, "I -suppose she is so mad with love that she gave it up." - -"She is pretty mad with the love," his mother agreed, "and so she -gave in. 'And I am going to Portree, Ishbel,' I heard him say, 'to -see what Mr. Campbell, the agent, is wishing to say to me, and you -will promise not to go when I am away?--for it is not good for a -lass like you to be out so late. And you will promise me?' And she -promised. He said he would bring her a new brooch--like a claymore, -that the man at Oban is making with the Iona pebbles--and they -kissed, and he is gone." - -"Very well, what then?" Duncan cried irately. "I hear they are to be -married when he comes back. What else, mother?" - -Catriona had dropped her potatoes into the pot, and she swung it -over the open peats, glowing redly in the dark little cottage. - -"Well, if I were you, Duncan, I would get out the boat, and I would -offer to take her to the cave. And I will be telling her more -stories to-night, when we are spinning. The lass is a changeling, -sure enough, and she will go. When Rory comes back, he will hear, -and he will be mad with her, and they will quarrel. You can go over -to Uig that day" ("Discretion being the better part of valour," -evidently, in Catriona's eyes). "They will quarrel, and will break -it off, and she will come to you, in time." - -Duncan considered the plan slowly. Yes, it suited him excellently -well. He wanted no noisy quarrel, no measuring of strength. He, too, -remembered Rory's muscles at the Portree games. But this secret -working in the dark, in MacPhee's absence, was quite to his taste. - -He made up his mind now that his mother was a woman of much wisdom. -He graciously told her he approved, and she should have a little -present on his next trip to Portree. Her stories to Ishbel of the -cave were to be many and enticing! - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -IN THE CAVE OF GOLD. - - -"Duncan, Duncan, but I hef promised!" It was the next night, and -Ishbel stood before the cottage in her dark wincey skirt and green -cotton jacket, her face turned up to her cousin's. All last night, -all through the day, old Catriona's stories had haunted her. The -old woman had gone cunningly to work. She began, in a rambling way, -once they were both seated at the spinning-wheel, by remarking -that to-morrow would be Midsummer's Night, and the fairies would -be holding high frolic in the Cave of Gold. She herself was old, -and frail, and feeble, else how gladly would she have gone! She had -the second sight--she would perhaps see what no other could! For, -with a branch of rowan--and she had a branch of dry rowan in her -kist, ready for her burial--or a naked dagger--Duncan's big knife -would do--there was no danger! To see the little green folk dancing! -And--here her voice fell, and she glanced into all the dark shadows -of the kitchen, and up by the oak settle near the window--perhaps to -hear the faint and far-off skirl of Angus Macdonald's pipes! They -said that sound was heard still. At first Ishbel had risen uneasily, -saying she would go and see if there were enough oat-cakes for -supper--or was that anyone in the barn? - -But Catriona bade her be seated, sharply--the girl should not escape -her thus--and then she asked if she (Catriona) had ever told Ishbel -the story of Angus Macdonald and the Cave of Gold? No, Ishbel -answered unwillingly, and sat down again, the wheel idle, the soft -grey carded wool lying in her lap. Catriona, spinning fast--with -the low dirl of the wheel acting as a sort of accompaniment to her -voice--told the story. She spoke in Gaelic, of course, and it is -difficult to put in English the creeping, insidious fear and mystery -of the tale. - -How the piper, Angus Macdonald, loved a MacLeod of Dunvegen, a -follower of the great MacLeod, and how this lady-love's father would -have none of him, but set him some of those foolish and impossible -tasks so dear to the story-teller of all ages and climes and -nationalities. - -One task bade him enter the Cave of Gold at midnight, on Midsummer's -Night, and play "MacLeod of Dunvegen," passing through the little -dancing folk, and penetrating far into the mystery of the cave's -windings, where no Skye man had ever been. Macdonald, of course, -took up the challenge, and with his tartan ribbands waving wildly -from the pipes, and the mouth-piece at his lips, he was seen -standing at the shingly edge of the cave, his kilt tossing against -his brown knees in the sudden gust of wind. The men who rowed him -up saw this, and heard the first wild pealing notes. Thus, playing -proudly and happily, he entered the cave with his dog at his heels. -They waited and watched, and listened, and at last heard one awful -cry! Then there was silence. He had passed the fairies, but-- - - "Never home came he!" - -Then, changing her tone, Catriona told of the only woman who had -ever caught sight of the wee green folk, and how, ever after, riches -and wealth were hers, and she had never a wish unsatisfied! It was -the going on into the inner caves that had undone the piper! The -lass who had seen the fairies was a certain Eilidh Macdonald, and -she married a chief, and went to live far away in Oban, and all her -days she was clad in green silk. Yes, all her days! - -"How did she go?" Ishbel cried. - -"In a boat, with a man. It is easy, if the man is strong, and you -hef the rowan with you. Last of all, Eilidh died, and she wished to -be buried beside Flora Macdonald's granite cross at Kilmuir, and -they granted her even that! She lies near the great Flora, who saved -the Prince. And all through seeing the wee green folk in the Cave of -Gold!" - -"Grandmother, would you lend me the rowan branch if--if I were to -go?" Ishbel whispered in the dusk. "Would you, grandmother?" - -Her own voice seemed to terrify her then, and Rory's face rose up -before her; but the old woman got up without a word, and, going to -her kist, took something, rolled in a fine kerchief, from it, with -the smell of bog-myrtle in its folds, and she laid the brown faded -leaves and the red, dry berries on Ishbel's lap. - -"There it is! But you will give it me back safe?--or else ill will -befall us all!" - -"I will give it you back," Ishbel whispered. - -She had the rowan in her pocket as she stood with Duncan, tampering -with her conscience and her promise now. - -"It was a very foolish thing to promise," he said craftily. -"Besides, Rory was afraid of the squalls, that is all--and there -will be no squalls at all! You can come with me, and see if there is -anything, and if my mother's stories are true. If not, there is no -harm done. It is a lovely cave whateffer." - -Ishbel yielded, as Catriona knew she would yield. Would she see -anything? Would the wee folk be there? - -[Illustration: "I will hef none but Ishbel."--_p. 127._] - -She found herself in the little boat, and rowing towards the cave -before she knew she had consented. The night seemed only a paler -day. They rowed close into the shore, till they discovered a place -where the rock-face was cleft, and showed a pale light within. -There was just space for the boat to float in, passing through a -low, overhanging archway. Ishbel drew her breath sharply and clasped -her hands, as Duncan paused, watching her face, once they were -through it. - -[Illustration: "It is a pretty boat to take a lass out in."] - -They were in a deep circular basin, the water, a lovely pale green, -darker in the shadows. The rocky sides were cut, here and there, -into long narrow openings, into one of which Catriona's piper must -have wandered; here Ishbel saw the water lying dark and mysterious, -shadow-haunted. - -Bending over the edge of the boat, she could see the yellow sand -far below; in bright sunshine her own fair face would have been -reflected. Tiny jelly-fish edged with lilac spots, and with long -white fringe, floated beside the seaweed, like strange jewels, and -far above them they could see the pale opalescence of the summer -sky, soft, exquisite, pearly. Fringing the opening were ferns and -heather, and tall fox-gloves, but the fairy bells did not stir in -the breathless air. Were the wee folk, the good folk, the green -folk, lurking within? If she watched, would she see a tiny face peep -out? She waited--watched--and waited--and the time passed. - -"Duncan, I do not see anything!" Ishbel spoke at last, breathlessly, -eagerly. She had forgotten Rory, she had forgotten everything but -her desire. "Row me further in, Duncan." - -He pushed the boat forward, and Ishbel sat with her dark blue -eyes--they seemed black in the shadow--strained eagerly forward, -listening, waiting. Nothing moved, except that now and then little -waves would break with a plashing ripple against the boat. Far up on -the rocks, a passing breath of wind now and then swayed the flowers -and the grasses; but no fairy face peeped anywhere, there was no tap -of dancing feet, no note of elfin music. - -"Duncan, Duncan, there is nothing, nothing at all!" - -The note of bitter disappointment in her voice roused Duncan. Once -or twice he had essayed to speak, having no desire for a silent -adventure, but Ishbel had raised her little brown hand sharply. He -might disturb the fairies. At last the silence had chilled even -her. It was all of no use. She could see and hear nothing. - -"We will chust be going home then," he said practically, caring -not at all for her disappointment, for, of course, it was all -"foolishness." "Maybe they are not dancing to-night; we will better -chust go home." - -"She said I would be sure to see them." - -There was a sob in her voice; as he pushed the boat out, she crushed -the rowans bitterly in her lap, and they fell into the bottom of -the boat. She remembered Rory suddenly, as, once outside, she -noticed that the weather had changed during her long waiting, that -the light seemed obscured, that there were white horses leaping in -the distance, and that the wind swept sharply in their faces as -they looked seaward. It would be dangerous now to keep quite close -to the rocks, for a heavy groundswell had risen. Duncan, glancing -round, expended some forcible Gaelic, for he knew he would need all -his muscles to row the clumsy boat, if they were to be safe, and he -hated trouble. He would have to keep out to sea to avoid the rocks. - -During the long pull home, through the now angry waters, Ishbel sat -quite silent. When Duncan bade her "Bale!" almost furiously, the -boat having an ugly leak, she did so almost mechanically. - -Nothing seemed to matter. There were no fairies, and she would have -to tell Rory she had broken her word! - -They found a sandy, sheltered bay at last where they could land. -Duncan alone knew how hard had been the struggle against wind and -tide in the clumsy and leaky craft; but Ishbel did not see a tall -waiting figure on the shore, till she was preparing to leap from the -boat. - -Then a strong hand took hers, and she glanced, with a startled cry, -to see Rory himself, grim, grave, silent, with something new in his -face which chilled her through and through. How was he there? - -He helped Duncan to pull up the boat, almost disdainfully, looking -at it when it lay out of the water with a kind of scornful rage. - -"It is a pretty boat," he said then in Gaelic, "a pretty boat to -take a lass out in, I will be saying that, Duncan MacLeod." - -MacLeod called to Ishbel sharply, making no reply, and all three -walked up to the cottage in heavy silence. The night, grown gusty -and wet, seemed to have changed as suddenly and mysteriously as -Ishbel's life. - -At the door she paused and faced her lover; his silence galled and -tormented her. - -"Well!" she said, "well!" - -If she had pleaded with him--been penitent, sorrowful! Alas! it was -no penitent face which met his, and jealousy and wrath broke forth -fiercely, sweeping love aside. - -"Are you asking what I am thinking, Ishbel?" he cried, "of the lass -who promised me, and who broke her word, and went out with Duncan -MacLeod? Well, I am thinking chust nothing at all of her! I hef -warned her that the boat was not safe, and of the squalls, and that -it was not the thing for a lass like her to go so late; and she -had promised, and yet she went! And this was the claymore brooch -made of Iona pebbles I hef bought for you; and it can go there!" He -flung the little packet remorselessly into the heather. "And as for -yourself, I think nothing of you at all, and everything is over. And -I am sailing for New Zealand with Mr. Campbell to-morrow. He asked -me, and I said 'No,' but I will go now, and will walk into Portree -this very night! _Beannachd leibh_ (good-bye)." - -He had turned away then, furiously. It had all passed as suddenly, -swept up as unexpectedly as had the squall outside the Cave of -Gold. Ishbel stood as if dazed, staring straight before her. A -Highlander's rage is like a Highland storm; one bends before it -instinctively. Ishbel did so now. - -Rory did not look back. Duncan, in the doorway, saw him stride on to -the road, through the little patch of oats before the door. He set -his face towards the high road for Portree. In a very few moments -the sound of his footsteps died away and the night swallowed him. -That was all right, Duncan thought. New Zealand! Capital! - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - "There follows a mist, and a weeping rain, - And life is never the same again!" - - -Ishbel might have thought of these words, if she had known them, -on the morrow and on many morrows that followed. For Rory MacPhee -was not the man to come back, or to speak lightly. He sailed with -the agent to Glasgow--was believed to have started for New Zealand -within the week. There, as far as his Skye friends were concerned, -he vanished. They were the days of rare and slow communication, and -Rory never wrote. - -But Ishbel did not marry her cousin, as everyone expected, including -MacLeod. She answered him "No," listlessly, but quite doggedly, and -nothing that he could say, or that Catriona could threaten, served -to change her. Once the old woman muttered vengefully that she would -never see the fairies, for she had lost her luck, and Ishbel turned -on her almost fiercely. - -"It is all false," she cried in Gaelic, "for there are no green folk -at all, and I do not care!" - -The mystery and the charm had fled; she no longer dreamed on the -green grass circle, no longer wondered at the night-song of the -burn, no longer watched for the kelpies under the boulders in the -burns or in the Rowan Pool. Belief in the fairies had faded on the -night in which Rory left her. Except in the little bald, white kirk -on the hill-side, Ishbel never sang. Song dies on the lips when care -and sorrow lie heavy on the heart. - -It was five years now since that fatal visit to the Gave of -Gold--Ishbel never mentioned it--and she was returning, in the -soft, golden haze of a September evening, from the castle. Catriona -was growing feeble, and Ishbel did everything; the old woman only -spinning a little, and wandering out to gather sticks and twigs for -the fire. The girl had been taking up carded wool to the castle, and -giving the great London ladies there a spinning lesson. - -Before the cottage came in view, with its surrounding field of poor -and thinly growing oats and yellow daisies (there being, indeed, a -far more plentiful crop of the latter), she paused to look up the -fairy knoll. There, on the top was the fairy ring. Something made -Ishbel suddenly turn and mount the little hill. - -The sea-loch lay beneath her, tinged with red; the sky was a wonder -and a glory, but Ishbel was not looking at the sky, or at the loch. -She was thinking how strange it was that she should go on living, -and living much as usual, when all that was best and fairest in life -was gone. - -She sighed, looking down at the burn, plashing and leaping over -the grey boulders. There was that story about the kelpies; her -grandmother rarely spoke of them now. Were there really no -kelpies--no brownies? And yet---- - -A step behind her made her start violently, and she gave a sharp -cry. A man's tall figure was there, not ten yards off, and there -flashed across Ishbel suddenly the thought that perhaps, after all, -it was all true, for this was a ghost! And if there were ghosts, why -not wee folk and kelpies? - -"I believe it is Ishbel, herself. Do you not know me, Ishbel?" - -He spoke in a new voice. The fluent Gaelic was gone, and the stiff, -translated English; he spoke easily, with a strange accent. And yet, -ah! she knew him at once! It was Rory! Rory, well-dressed, handsome, -upright, with a different and more independent carriage, but Rory -all the same! - -Ishbel rose and stood quite wordless for a moment. And then--"You -are a great stranger," she said. "It is a very long time, I believe, -since you hef been in Skye." - -He almost smiled. He was looking down at her earnestly, intently. -Was it possible that she should be so little changed? Had the five -years been a dream? Just as he remembered her--with the pale, clear -skin, the deep sloe-eyes, the ruddy crisp hair, the little droop -of the head! Ishbel! The girl he had turned his back on, and been -furious with, and quite forgotten--oh, yes! quite forgotten, though -he had come back to the Winged Island--well, just to see how all the -old folks were! - -"It is five years," he said deliberately, "five years! Are you--are -you married, Ishbel?" - -The girl raised her eyes and looked at him. It was getting dark, -and the burn was beginning its night-song. Ishbel noticed that, and -remembered just how the water used to sing, quite suddenly. The -lovely, indescribable breath of the muir wind swept in their faces. -How sweet it was--how entrancing! And oh! me, the velvety deeps of -her eyes, the little half-sad, half-humorous mouth! - -Was she married? Was she? - -He repeated the question, but with a new and eager ring in his -voice, and Ishbel shook her head. - -"Though there will have been a good many marriages since you left. -There was Mari MacLean and Dougal Nicolson, and there was Colin----" - -"What about MacLeod, your cousin?" - -"He is to be married this year," she said, "to an English lass." - -"So you did not marry him, after all, Ishbel?" - -"Who said that I would?" she cried, as if stung. "You knew better -than that! Who said that I would?" - -"He did; and that you would go with him that night, if he asked you. -And you did, Ishbel! It was very cruel, but----" Rory paused then, -and suddenly spoke in Gaelic, as if it all came back to him. "But I -am beginning to think that I was cruel, too. Was I?" - -He waited, watching her. - -Ishbel nodded gently. She also spoke in Gaelic, as if they had -parted only yesterday. - -"Yes, you were cruel, Rory, and you were very hasty. It is true that -I was a foolish lass, but you might have given me another chance. -I believed in my grandmother's stories. I wanted to see the good -folk." She looked away, and sadness and disillusion crept over her -face. "But I do not believe in them any more, not any more." - -"Poor little Ishbel. Poor wee lassie!" - -It could not be five years. It could not! They had only parted -yesterday! - -"But it does not matter," Ishbel said, rousing, "and now perhaps you -will call and see my grandmother? Are you on your way to Uig?" - -He did not answer that. - -"Ishbel," he said, "I was very cruel, and I was just as angry as a -man could be, and for five years I have been mad and sore; but deep -down, deep down, I never forgot you. I hated him, but I loved you. I -will come and see your grandmother; but--first--first, will you give -me a kiss, Ishbel, for the sake of the old days?" - -Would she? Perhaps, after all, he did not wait for her consent. He -had her in his arms, and they closed round her, and Isabel's head -fell on his shoulder with a little sob that was an epitome of all -the five years' sorrow and heartache. - -[Illustration: Catriona heard his story in silence.] - -"_Muirnean_ (darling)," Rory whispered, "I love you; and when I -leave Skye, you will come too, or I will be staying on here with -you. You shall choose Ishbel--you shall choose; and to-morrow I will -buy you something better than the claymore brooch that I was cruel -enough to throw away!" - -They walked down to the cottage, and Catriona, who was never -surprised at anything, shook hands sourly with him; she heard his -story in silence, and nodded consent when he told her that he and -Ishbel were to be married, after all. He could look after the croft, -she said, or buy Colin MacDougal's farm, just above, if he had money -enough. Would he have money enough? For Duncan kept her very close -now. Rory laid a packet smilingly in her lap, and said he thought he -had money enough. - -Next forenoon Catriona saw him coming up the road; Ishbel ran to -meet him, and together they wandered off to the burn-side. They came -back by-and-by, and Ishbel stood smiling in the cottage door, her -arms full of rowan branches; Rory had a spray in his coat, and the -red berries nestled under her chin. - -"I have brought you back luck," the girl cried happily. "We found -the rowans down by the pool. And Rory says that there are maybe good -folk in the world, after all! Who knows, grandmother?" - -Catriona's peat-brown old face was bent over her wheel. She allowed -there might be one or two, with a half-grunt of satisfaction. - - - - -_THE REAL EAST LONDON._ - -By the Lord Bishop of Stepney. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: H. V. Hornville, Gawber Street, E._) - -THE "MOTHERS'" GARDEN PARTY GROUP. - -(_Showing the Bishop in the Background._)] - - -East London is a very different place from what many people expect -it to be. There are not a few who still think that they will have -their throats cut if they venture into it, and I remember one -visitor who turned up very late for dinner one night at Oxford -House, and gave as the reason for his lateness that his landlord had -got one side of him and his landlady on the other, and had held him -by his coat-tails to prevent him coming to be murdered in Bethnal -Green. - -[Illustration: Old "Oxford House"] - -As a matter of fact, East London is probably, by daylight or -by night, one of the safest parts of London, except in a very -few selected streets, well known to the police; and one of my -predecessors, the much-lamented Bishop Billing, was quite right when -he used to say to the West-End mother, anxious about her daughter's -safety, if she came to work in East London, "See her as far as -Temple Bar, and then she will be all right." - -What strikes one at first is the extreme brightness and cheerfulness -of the people, often under very adverse circumstances. I remember -giving a series of garden-parties when I was Rector of Bethnal -Green, in the little garden attached to the rectory. There was not -much room for anything, and the only amusements were skittles and -races, whilst tea and cake and bread-and-butter were the simple -refreshments; but not only--as you will see by the photograph--were -the visitors very content with themselves, but one of them, from one -of the poorest streets, met me the day after a "party" and said: - -"Rector, we did enjoy ourselves yesterday." - -"I am very glad of it," I replied. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -"OXFORD HOUSE"--THE PRESENT BUILDING.] - -"But we very nearly didn't come." - -"Why not?" I asked. - -"Oh! You see, a man down our street, 'e said, 'Don't go--the -Rector only wants to show you a few old gravestones.' But we tell -'im now we couldn't have enjoyed ourselves better if we'd been at -Marlborough 'Ouse." - -Then the children of East London are truly delightful. Poor little -bairns! they often get pale enough spending the year in those -crowded courts and alleys--and few things are doing better work in -London than the Children's Country Holiday Fund, which sends about -thirty-one thousand each year for a fortnight into the country--but -still nothing daunts their spirits or dims their affection. Often -have I been cheered through an afternoon's visiting by a group of -children who would spend their half-holiday afternoon in waiting -quite quietly outside a sick-room in order to knock at the door of -the next sick case to which they were quite 'cute enough to know -that I was going, and so on right down the street. Many of the -clergy organise Band of Hope entertainments, and teach the children -to act little plays of their own, and there are no quicker and apter -pupils than the children of East London, as the prizes carried off -yearly at the Crystal Palace will show. - -The East-End boy, again, is quite a character; we had four hundred -at Oxford House in one club, besides some hundreds of others in -brigades. When you told an East-End mother that fact, she would -generally say, "My word, I find _one_ quite enough!" And certainly, -on a Whit Monday, when one had at least a hundred and fifty to -convoy to London Bridge and get safely down to some friend's house -and back again, they were a fine handful. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -THE PEOPLE'S PALACE.] - -One day I noticed the express stopping pretty often, and wondered -why, as it was not advertised to stop anywhere. At last the guard -came to see me at a wayside station, with a very red face, and said -he would hold me responsible for what my boys were doing; he said -that they had pulled the danger connecting-rod three times. I went -round to see what was happening, and asked whether any of them had -done it. "Oh, yes," said a little chap at once; "it was me; _I was -only 'anging my 'at up on it!_" - -Few things abash the East-End boy. At the end of the journey, my -friend, who lived near a very magnificent house, was showing us -through the rooms, and I heard a little boy say confidentially to -his neighbour, without meaning to be overheard, "_'Em! just like our -little back parlour at home!_" The good result of all the trouble -which such expeditions involved, was shown by the contempt they -displayed--as they marched back crowned with flowers, with horses -curveting round them, and cabs charging through them, in consequence -of the inspiriting notes of the band--for the groups of drunken men -and women we used to meet, who had spent their Bank Holiday in quite -another way. Once implant in a boy the love of a "better way" of -spending a holiday, and you have got a long way on the road to make -him love "a better way" of spending his life altogether. Satan finds -some mischief still for idle hands to do, but if those hands are -employed in handling a musket, or playing a flute, or clinging on to -a horizontal bar--they have ceased to be idle at all. - -But space will soon fail me if I go through all the component parts -of the population in detail. The young girls, with their limbs -aching for active recreation after long confinement in factories or -workshops, have been graphically depicted by Sir Walter Besant, and -few people are doing more good in the district than those ladies -who, at great trouble, often with real self-sacrifice, are running -girls' clubs every evening for the girls after their work. - -As, of course, is well known, it was one great object of the -People's Palace to provide this sort of innocent recreation for the -people, and though it has thrown its strength lately rather into -its excellent technical classes, it has not left out of sight its -original mission. - -The gymnastic instructor at the People's Palace told me a year or -two ago that he had no better and more spirited class than a large -factory girls' class; and I have seen the magnificent Queen's Hall -filled to overflowing for a nigger entertainment on a Saturday -night, and more than half-full for a sacred concert on Sunday -afternoon. - -When one is asked, then, what is the matter with East London, and -what lies behind those great thoroughfares, which look so broad and -inviting on a fine summer's afternoon, one can only reply by taking -one's questioner away from the broad thoroughfares into the crowded -streets and alleys which lie behind them and between. Here is a -photograph of a crowded back street, which gives an idea of what is -going on, say, of a Sunday morning during the Bird Fair in Slater -Street, or the Dog Fair at the top of Bethnal Green Road, or the old -clothes sale down by Petticoat Lane. We are too thick on the ground, -that is what it is; the census does not rise, because it _can't_ -rise: we are crammed so full that we can take no more. - -I remember once a young ladies' school used to send roses once a -week from a pretty suburb of London; they used to bring them to -school in the morning from their gardens, make them at twelve into -bouquets, send them up by three, and they were in East London homes -by five. As I used to take the bouquets of beautiful flowers round -on trays--followed, I may say, by a mob of children yelling for -a flower, for old and young have a touching love for flowers in -East London--I always found that I required four bouquets for each -house, for each house contained at least four families. This is a -fact which escapes the notice of the casual visitor, who sees a -harmless-looking house outside, but does not know what is inside. - -We are overcrowded, and what overcrowding means from the point of -view of health and morality only those who reside in the district -and the local medical officer really know. I used to have sent me -by the excellent Medical Officer for Bethnal Green--Dr. Bate--the -death-rate each month compared with the death-rate for the whole -of London, and there is no reason that I know of to account for -the 22-27 per 1,000 registered for Bethnal Green compared with the -18 per 1,000 of the rest of London, except the overcrowded and -sometimes insanitary conditions in which the people live. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -A CROWD IN PETTICOAT LANE.] - -Things, however, are much better than they used to be. The London -County Council has done a good deal in pulling down rookeries -and rehousing large areas--as, for instance, the famous Boundary -Street area between Shoreditch and Bethnal Green. The Mansion -House Council for the Dwellings of the Poor has done much through -its local committees to stimulate local effort; and the district -authorities are far more active than they were, and alive to the -responsibilities which fall upon them. - -Many an afternoon have I spent with the Sanitary Committee of the -Vestry of Bethnal Green, condemning insanitary property, and many -are the sad sights which I have seen when I have been round with -them. - -I remember vividly one or two large houses abutting on a little -court. As we went with difficulty through the narrow passages and -looked into the different rooms, we found women sitting silent and -patient, too busy to say much to us, pasting match-boxes together, -for which they were to get twopence-farthing a gross. Needless to -say that these houses had to be condemned; but the difficulty is -by no means over when such dwellings are condemned. As a man said -caustically and truly at a meeting held on the subject, "A rat in -a hole is better than a rat out, any day"; and great consideration -has to be shown in not turning out too quickly those who have found -these poor tenements their home before provision has been made -elsewhere for them. - -If those in the West-End and other places who have property in the -slums would only look after it themselves, and not be content with -taking the rents without seeing that the places for which they take -their money are fit to house men and women, and not mere animals, -great progress would be made. We should be happy to show them the -best models on which to rebuild their houses, or they may see for -themselves by observing the pretty two-storeyed houses now built, -which constitute Hart's Lane, abutting on the Bethnal Green Road, -and which, being always in demand, pay, we hope, the intelligent -landlord who built them. - -But it is not merely that we are too thick on the ground; for a long -time we were too much left to ourselves. Those that ate jam lived in -one place and those that made it lived in another, and naturally -therefore the "city of the poor," left to itself, generated -standards, habits, and traditions of its own, some of which are the -reverse of edifying. - -Take, for instance, the prevalence of drink and gambling. A young -man came to me one night in East London with a face as pale as -death. I had known him as a boy, but he had dropped out of our club -system on growing too old for the boys' club, and had got drawn into -a drinking set. "Save me!" he cried, as he fell upon his knees and -took my hand. He had, he said, been led in the public-house to put -his money on horses of which he knew nothing, and had finally spent -nine pounds belonging to a shop club, of which he was treasurer. -He had to meet his mates next morning; he was only twenty-one, of -respectable parents, and engaged to a respectable girl, and with -only three months to run out of his apprenticeship. "If you don't -help me, sir, I am ruined for life!" - -I did lend him the money, to be repaid by instalments, but the -story will show the dangers to our young population, and the need -of strong and definite work among them from their earliest years. -With a public-house at every corner, and a bookmaker's clerk waiting -for them during dinner hour, what chance have the poor lads and -girls unless someone will go down and live among them and teach them -better things? I remember running-in a man who had the insolence -to stand outside Oxford House and take money from boys and girls, -as well as men and women, during dinner hour, and though he was -fined five pounds at once, he had more than twenty pounds on him -in coppers and small silver. The fine ought to be raised, as the -present maximum--five pounds--is easily paid, and they think nothing -of it, and go on again just the same next day. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -THE GREAT HALL AT THE PEOPLE'S PALACE.] - -It was no doubt the growing necessity of bringing a higher standard -of life into the "city of the poor" and bridging over the gulf -between rich and poor, establishing counter-attractions to the -public-house and the gambling-hell, which led Canon Barnett, some -fifteen years ago, to suggest the formation of settlements among the -poor. His visit to Oxford in 1884, backed up by Bishop Walsham How -and Miss Octavia Hill, led to the establishment of Toynbee Hall -in Whitechapel, and later on in the same year of Oxford House in -Bethnal Green. Of the former excellent institution, which still owes -so much to its founder and present Warden, Canon Barnett, much has -been written in past years, and, as space is limited even in THE -QUIVER, I have only room to say a few words more about Oxford -House. It was founded on a definite Church basis, and its workers -were and are members of the Church of England, but it threw open its -clubs and its doors to men of all creeds and all kinds. - -When I was myself called to be Head of the House in 1880, it was -situated in a back street in Bethnal Green, and consisted of a -disused Church school knocked into rooms. As residents increased, -we found so small a house quite inadequate, and the present Oxford -House was built on a disused site in the next street, and opened -by the Duke of Connaught five or six years ago. It has had a full -complement of twenty men ever since, and the acquisition of the -rectory of Bethnal Green when I became Rector of Bethnal Green in -1895, enabled us for some time to have thirty workers--all laymen -with the exception of myself. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -A VIEW OF BETHNAL GREEN MUSEUM.] - -The residents do whatever work is entrusted to them by the Head, in -the daytime working at the Charity Organisation offices, Children's -Country Holiday Fund, Sanitary Aid Committee; in the evening running -boys' clubs and men's clubs and Church Lads' Brigades, visiting in -the London Hospital on Mondays, visiting the sick and others in the -parish of St. Matthew's, now specially connected with the House, and -doing innumerable odd jobs for the parish clergy round, with whom -they are all on the most friendly footing. - -And that brings me lastly to the definitely religious work of East -London. It is here that the result of leaving for so long one -million people to themselves shows itself in the most disastrous -form. The habit of church-going or chapel-going has been almost -entirely lost, and it is only after the most patient efforts on the -part of the clergy and others that it can be brought again into the -district. After sampling on several occasions eighty men (invited to -the garden parties spoken of above) out of different streets taken -in turn, I discovered that only about one in eighty went either to -church or chapel, and out of a thousand boys of the age of fourteen -or fifteen who were questioned on entering one of our large boys' -clubs, nine hundred were found to have "g.n." written after their -names, which means "goes nowhere." Now, to the readers of THE -QUIVER I know that this will seem a very appalling thing, and -will show that we have what is practically, from a religious point -of view, a pagan population at our very doors. - -On whom, then, does the great stress and strain of converting -this pagan population fall? Let us give all credit to the good -work done by Nonconformists in the district, with whom we are on -excellent terms: let us acknowledge the wonderful gatherings in Mr. -Charrington's Hall: and in the Pavilion, under the preaching of Mr. -George Nokes; the good work by Dr. Stephenson in his Children's -Homes; and by Dr. Barnardo in his boys' work at Stepney Causeway; -and by other workers scattered up and down the district; but I think -all would admit that the great strain and stress of the work falls -upon those who actually live in the very midst of the people, each -of them with their seven thousand to ten thousand, and sometimes -twenty thousand, souls to look after. - -It is they whose door-bell rings continuously; it is they to whom -everyone comes in the hour of distress, whether they attend the -church or not; and it is they and the band of workers they have -gathered round them who are laying deep the foundations of the -future City of God, and who are working, with a few exceptions, day -and night to bring wanderers into the fold. - -The people are not irreligious, only non-religious, and all they -need is patient and loving work in their midst. To attend a parish -gathering is like going to a happy family party, on such excellent -terms are the clergy and their workers with the people, and when in -some churches you find five hundred East-End communicants in the -early morning on Easter Day, no one can question the self-sacrifice -and earnestness of those who have once been thoroughly converted. - -The great need, of course, is more workers and it is to supply more -workers that the East London Church Fund exists. It is spent wholly -on workers, not on buildings at all; and it is my earnest desire, -with the help of the Bishop of Islington, who is an experienced -East-End worker himself, and who has now taken over the North London -district, to raise that fund to L20,000 this year to meet the urgent -appeals for more workers which come to us from the poorer parts of -East and North London. The Fund covers an area of 1,800,000 people, -most of whom are poor. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: C. E. Fry and Son, Gloucester Terrace, S.W._) - -CANON BARNETT. - -(_Warden of Toynbee Hall._)] - -Such, then, so far as it can be described in a short article, is -East London, with all its virtues and its vices, its aspirations, -its hopes, its possibilities, and its failings. It is a land flowing -with milk and honey, with the milk of human kindness and the honey -of human love; but, like the old Canaan, it is not yet fully -occupied by the host of God. When Christianity is, however, fully -"in possession," we shall see a great deepening and ripening of all -the good that lies there, and the East London Church of the future -will have a character of its own, and will shed a new glory on the -Christianity which has slowly converted the world. - - - - -PLEDGED - -[Illustration: PLEDGED] - -By Katharine Tynan, Author of "A Daughter of Erin," Etc. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -"ANTHONY MUST KNOW." - - -"And you liked her, Kitty?" said Anthony Trevithick. - -It was the morning after his return, and Lady Jane had left them -alone. - -"I liked her amazingly," said Lady Kitty; "and, what is more -surprising, she liked me." - -"It would be surprising if she didn't, Kitty"--looking at her with -brotherly fondness. "Do you know, Kitty, I used to like you because -you were pretty, and couldn't help being charming?" - -Lady Kitty made a mocking bow. - -"But still there is some change in you of late. What is it? You have -given up being smart and cynical and all that. You are ever so much -lovelier now than I remember you." - -Lady Kitty laughed, but her eyes softened. - -"I'm glad you think I'm lovelier, Anthony." - -He looked at her sharply. - -"What is it, Kitty?" - -"Something that must not be told yet, Anthony." - -"Oh, it is _that_!" - -His voice had an incredulous relief in it. - -"It is really _that_, Kitty?" - -Lady Kitty laughed up at him out of her chair, and her glance was at -once shy and proud. - -"Yes, it is that, Anthony." - -"Do I know him, Kitty?" - -"Very well, Anthony. But no one knows yet--only he and I." - -"Who, Kitty?" - -"Ask Mr. Leslie, Anthony." - -"It isn't Jack, Kitty? You don't mean to say it is Jack! Why--you -deceitful little person!--Jack was just the one man you never tried -to make captive to your bow and spear; at least, so far as I could -see." - -"My poor Anthony, you never saw very far where I was concerned." - -"No, then, Kitty, I didn't." - -His face was a little rueful as he said it. - -"But I am glad beyond measure," he went on. "There is, perhaps, only -one thing could make me happier." - -He stooped and touched Lady Kitty's soft cheek with his lips. - -"You can tell Jack, Kitty," he said. "We are like sister and -brother, aren't we?" - -"I am very fond of you, Anthony. Next to your mother--excluding -Jack, of course--I think I'm as fond of you as anyone." - -"I'm glad you're fond of my mother, Kitty. She doesn't care for many -people." - -"I've been trying to get up courage to tell her, Anthony. I hate to -keep her in the dark." - -"It will be a blow to her, Kitty." - -They both laughed and blushed a little consciously. - -"Yes, I'm afraid it will." - -"But Pamela, Kitty--tell me about Pamela. Did she ever talk about -me?" - -"I can't say that she did, Anthony." - -"I suppose she wouldn't," said the lover, a little disappointed, -nevertheless. - -"You're fond of her, Anthony?" said Lady Kitty, looking up at him -with eyes of alarm. "Really fond of her?" - -"I love her and she loves me. As soon as I have established Uncle -Wilton comfortably with Knowles to look after him, I shall go to -claim her." - -"She _knows_ you love her, Anthony?" - -"Oh, yes, she knows." - -The young fellow laughed happily, and there was no shadow of doubt -or of apprehension in his eyes. He had begun to walk up and down the -room now, impatiently, as if he wanted to be off. - -"Why didn't you claim her before you went off to nurse your uncle, -Anthony? Uncertainty of that kind is hard on a girl." - -"I did write. Not, indeed, to her, but to her father, and gave him a -broad hint of the state of the case. I have often wondered he never -sent me a word: he was such a good sort." - -"He has been very ill, Anthony." - -"Ill? My mother never told me." - -"He was at death's door, but is out of danger; he must be getting -strong again by this time." - -"My poor little Pam--and all of them! They adore their father, and -they had no one to help or comfort them!" - -"Why didn't you write to Pamela herself?" - -"My mother asked me not to till I came back. But now all that is -over. I am going to her at once." - -"You say you wrote to her father, Anthony? Do you know I have a kind -of idea she said you had not written?" - -"I wrote, Kitty, all right, and put it in the letter-box in the hall -the night before I left. You must have mistaken what she said. Of -course, her father's illness explains his not having written. And -now there is no use in writing. I can be there almost as soon as a -letter." - -Lady Kitty's face was troubled as she looked at him. - -"You're quite sure you posted the letter, Anthony? Perhaps they -didn't get it. Letters sometimes go wrong, don't they?" - -"Not one out of a million. What are you thinking of, Kitty?" - -Lady Kitty jumped up out of her chair and went to him. - -"My poor old Anthony," she said, "there's something horribly wrong. -I wish I hadn't to tell you. Pamela's engaged to a Lord Glengall." - -[Illustration: "My poor old Anthony, there's something horribly -wrong."] - -Trevithick looked at her as if he could not take in what he heard. - -"You are mad, Kitty," he said slowly. "She is engaged to me." - -"I have her word for it, Anthony. There is something wrong, I am -sure. She has just written it to me." - -"Show me the letter, Kitty." - -She went to an escritoire in the corner of the room, found the -letter, and brought it to him. He read it with staring eyes. - -"She won't marry him," he said when he had finished. - -"My poor Anthony!" - -"An engagement is nothing. She was engaged to me. She let me kiss -her. He is a man with money--I remember now. Do women sell their -souls for money, Kitty?" - -"Some women might, Anthony, but I don't think Pamela would. There is -something wrong, Anthony, I am sure of it." - -"I am going to find out, Kitty." - -[Illustration: Something in the attitude smote her.--_p. 446._] - -He turned his angry, miserable young face upon her, and her heart -was wrung for him. - -"I am going over there to-night, Kitty." - -"You will do nothing rash, Anthony?" - -"If I find that anything but her own will has come between us, I -will do my best to win her back from him. I have the right, Kitty. I -was the first, and she let me kiss her." - -"You say she was engaged to you, Anthony? Do you mean formally?" - -"Everything _but_ formally. Ah! I wish I had settled it then--put a -ring on her before them all. It was my mother. She made me promise -to do nothing till I came back." - -"Oh! she knew, then?" - -"I told her, Kitty, and she was bitterly angry. And I, mad that I -was, I yielded to her will. Afterwards, when I heard she had found -them out, and got Pam over here, I thought her heart had softened -to me after all those years, and that she was helping me towards my -happiness." - -"Why did she make you promise that?" - -"I am ashamed to say it, Kitty--because she persuaded me you cared -for me, and ought not to be told suddenly. I beg your pardon, Kitty; -I was not ass enough to think it of myself!" - -"Ah!" said Lady Kitty again, and her eyes were thoughtful, "and poor -little Pam was miserable. I don't believe they ever had that letter, -Anthony." - -"If she was miserable for me"--and the lover's face lightened--"she -loves me still, and she must give up the other man for me. If she -loves me, he has no right to her. I am going to find out, Kitty." - -"Where are you going now, Anthony?" - -"There are twenty things to be done. I have to see Uncle Wilton and -tell him I am going. Knowles understands what to do for him, and to -call Dr. Berners if he were ill." - -He took up her hand and kissed it. - -"You've been a good little girl to me, Kitty," he said. "Afterwards -I am going to fight for my love." - -As the door closed behind him Lady Kitty went thoughtfully upstairs -and knocked at Lady Jane's boudoir door. - -"May I come in, Auntie Jane?" she said; "are you very busy?" - -Lady Jane looked up from her books with an air of expectation, as -if there might be something pleasant to hear; but her expression -changed immediately. - -"What is the matter, Kitty?" she asked. - -"A good deal. Anthony has been telling me that he is in love with -Pamela Graydon." - -"My darling----" - -Kitty lifted her hand. - -"It only affects me in so far as it affects Anthony. Pamela is -engaged to Lord Glengall."' - -"I remember him. I saw him when I was there. He looked like a -ploughman, and I thought he was one. I suppose she marries him for -the title." - -"She marries him--if she does--because she is in love with Anthony, -and thinks he has played her false." - -"You are too romantic, Kitty." - -"It is the first time I have been called so. Forgive me for -something I must ask you. Are you at the root of the mischief?" - -"What do you mean, Kitty?" - -"I begin to have a glimmering of why you brought her here." - -"Kitty, tell me first. Do you not mind at all about Anthony?" - -"Not in the way you mean. He never cared for me, not in that way. It -is no use trying to bring these things about." - -"It has been my dream, Kitty, since you were quite a little girl. -I never loved Anthony; but if you were his wife, I think I should -begin to love him. I thought you cared for him always." - -"I should not have let you think that. Some of all this trouble is -my fault. It is better to be open all the way through. I kept it -from you because I feared the sharp disappointment it would be to -you." - -"That you did not love Anthony?" - -"More than that, Auntie Janie, I loved someone else. I couldn't help -it. I would have pleased you, if I could, but it did not seem to be -in my hands. There is a fatality about such things. We might have -cared for each other if we had not always known you wanted us to." - -Lady Jane looked about her with a bewildered air, as though her -world were crumbling. - -"I have thought of it for so many years," she said at last, "that I -cannot realise how, between you, you have destroyed the one solid -hope of my life." - -"I love you so much, Auntie Janie, that I think I would have married -Anthony, without love, to please you, if there had not been someone -else." - -Lady Jane turned and looked at her, and her face was tragical. - -"I would not have wished that, Kitty. A marriage without love! You -don't know what it is, child, especially if there has been--or might -have been--someone else. I only wanted you to have the wish of your -heart, and to bind you closer to me at the same time." - -"Nothing can ever undo our love, Auntie Janie--nothing, nothing." - -"Wait till your husband intervenes, Kitty. Who is it, by the way? I -have seen no sign of such an one in our circle." - -"It is Mr. Leslie," said Lady Kitty with bent head. - -"Anthony's friend? Yes, I know you liked him, but I thought it was -for Anthony's sake." - -"I am so sorry," Lady Kitty said again. Then she went on, with a -timidity foreign to her: "Anthony is very unhappy, Auntie Janie. Can -nothing be done?" - -Lady Jane turned away her head. - -"What do you expect me to do, Kitty?" - -"He is your own son, and he loves Pamela Graydon. She loves him too. -Why, it was written on her face, if only I had had eyes to see. Yet -she has engaged herself to another man! What is the meaning of it?" - -"I am bad at riddles, Kitty." - -"Anthony will unravel it--unless you will. Forgive me, Auntie Janie, -but he had better know--that his letter to Mr. Graydon remained -unposted. I do not know if there is anything else, but there is -that." - -"How do you know that, Kitty?" - -"I couldn't help knowing it. A few days after Anthony had gone you -sent me to the little inner drawer of your desk to find Madame -Lefevre's address. Anthony's letter to Mr. Graydon lay on the top -with the address uppermost. I never thought of it again till to-day." - -"What do you want me to do, Kitty? It is quite true that I -abstracted the letter from the hall-box before it was emptied for -the night-post. If you go to my desk again you will find the letter -there with its seal unbroken. I guessed what it might contain. -Curiously enough, the habits of a lifetime kept me from opening the -letter, though I had stolen it." - -Lady Kitty made a deprecating gesture, but the elder woman went on -coldly: - -"I wrote myself to Mr. Graydon--a merely formal letter -explaining Anthony's absence. Afterwards I made an excuse of the -Verschoyles--people I had almost forgotten--to go myself and see -for myself. They lived in a barbarous way, as I thought they would; -and I mistook Miss Graydon's _fiance_ for an elderly mountain -farmer. Then I asked the girl over here with the design--which you -frustrated to some extent--of making her detest us. I also told her -that you and Anthony were to be married, and that you had always -been lovers." - -"Auntie Janie!" - -"Yes, Kitty; you may as well know the full extent of my wickedness." - -"But how could you do it? I have always known you as a proud and -honourable woman." - -"I did it first of all for your sake, Kitty. I did think you cared -for Anthony; and I thought that if this entanglement were out of the -way he would care for you. I was mistaken all round." - -"I ought to have spoken, Auntie Janie. Ah! I see now how much -trouble can come from even a little deceit." - -"What do you want me to do, Kitty?" - -"Anthony must know." - -"You have no thought but for Anthony." - -"The wrong must be undone--if it is possible now." - -"He will turn his back on me for ever." - -"He will remember that you are his mother." - -"I have given him no motherhood. All I had I gave to you--and I have -lost you, too." - -"You have not lost me. Whatever you did we should be the same." - -"You think that now. But we can never be the same. However, about -Anthony. I daresay I can live without Anthony. What do you want me -to do?" - -"He must be told. Shall I tell him, Auntie Janie?" - -"No, I will tell him myself. You had better keep out of it. I shall -tell him as soon as he comes here. Where is he?" - -"He went to let his uncle know he was called away. He will soon be -back." - -"Send him here when he comes in. And now, Kitty, go. I have business -to do." - -Lady Kitty went to the door slowly, and, as she turned the handle, -looked back at the tall figure standing in the middle of the room. -Something in the attitude smote her. She went back impulsively, and -flung her arms round Lady Jane. - -"If you love me at all as you loved me yesterday, be comforted," she -cried. "I know it all came through your love for me, and my wretched -deceit, and I shall always love you, always." - -She could not say if there was an answering caress. - -"Things will come right," she whispered, "and Anthony will forget -his anger. We have all need of forgiveness." - -"I shall never ask Anthony's," said Lady Jane. "And I do not pretend -to repent. But he will marry that man's daughter in spite of me, and -I shall be punished. Go now, Kitty. If Anthony has come in, send him -to me." - -Lady Kitty went. As the door closed behind her, after a last glimpse -of the erect figure, she had an odd fancy about a picture she -remembered to have seen of a ship going down at sea with all its -flags flying. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -"IT IS TOO LATE." - - -But as the days passed the happiness which Pamela had expected did -not come. Perhaps at first the atmosphere of approval in which she -lived made a species of false happiness; but in a very short space -of time things became workaday, and the future, with a husband old -enough to be her father, showed itself naked of glamour. - -Her soul was loyal to her betrothed, though her heart betrayed -her. She kept perpetually within her sight his unselfishness, his -patience, his simple-mindedness, his devotion. And yet, if her -bridegroom were to be no paladin at all, but a certain ordinary -young gentleman of ordinary good looks and good qualities, instead -of Lord Glengall, how wildly happy she could have been! It was -something she dared not think upon--what might have been, instead of -what was going to be. - -It was another hot summer, and Pamela's step grew languid, and her -eyes had heavy rings about them. Her white cheeks, that were so firm -and full of health, lost something of their glow. - -She spurred herself up to be brisk and cheerful, and apologised for -her flagging energy with accusations against the weather. And all -the time Lord Glengall watched her with the anxiety of a loving dog -in his eyes. - -They were to be married at the beginning of September, to have a -month's honeymoon at Killarney, and then to take Mr. Graydon abroad, -that so he might escape the damp of the Irish winter. - -In August, Pamela was to go to Dublin to see about her frocks. They -were not to be very many nor very magnificent. Afterwards, said her -bridegroom, there would be a visit to Paris, and plenty of shopping. - -Pamela loved pretty things as well as any girl, and none the less -because they had never been within her reach. But now her interest -in such matters seemed feeble. The times when she derived a certain -quiet happiness from her engagement were when she talked with Lord -Glengall about what was to be done for the others. - -"Is there nothing for yourself, Pam?" he asked once; "you never ask -for anything for yourself." - -And then he stroked the soft pale cheek with a loving finger, and -the concern in his eyes grew deeper. - -Once he said to Pamela that he wished it were all done, and that -he was free to take care of her; but as he said it, putting a -protecting arm about her, he felt a quick shudder run through her. - -"What is it, Pam?" he asked anxiously. - -"Someone walking on my grave," said Pamela lightly. - -"Don't talk about such things, child," he implored. "You have all -your life, the life that I am going to endeavour to make so happy, -before you. What have you to do with graves?" - -And yet another time he said to her that he could almost wish that -he might give her his love and his care and his fortune without -marriage. - -"I suppose I couldn't adopt you, Pam?" he said lightly, yet his mood -was a serious one. - -"Ah! don't talk about such things," said Pam, in her turn, and her -heart was sore lest she had grieved him. "No girl could have a -happier fate than to be your wife." - -And since she felt what she said for the moment she contrived to set -his fears at rest. - -It was the most humdrum betrothal from the point of view of young -and romantic persons. Lord Glengall was no ardent wooer. His manner -was more the manner of a father than of a lover, and his moments -of greatest contentment were only marked by a deeper quiet. While -Pam and he were much together, their talk, unlike the talk of -young lovers, was of everything but themselves. Lord Glengall had -plans for the disposal of the great wealth he had brought from the -gold-fields; but they were plans in which personal ambition had no -share. - -Mr. Graydon was still languid after his illness, and during those -summer days a great quietness seemed to have descended upon -Carrickmoyle. - -"Sorra's in it!" said Bridget, complaining. "'Tis as if there wasn't -a bit of young life about the place. 'Tis more like as if there was -goin' to be a funeral thin a weddin'." - -"I'll tell you what, Miss Sylvia," she protested to her prime -favourite; "there's one-legged Grady the gardener, above at his -Lordship's, an' his mouth is dry axin' me. I declare I'll take him, -if only to make a bit av a stir. They say he used to bate the first -wife wid the wooden leg, but he'll not look crooked at me, never -fear." - -Sylvia, too, shared in the depressing quiet, and even the dogs lay -and blinked all day in the hot sun, and were too lazy to go out on -the bog for a dip in the icy-cold water. - -Sylvia had her troubles. Her friend Miss Spencer, to whom she was -oddly attached, was failing. No illness of a violent kind, but -simply a wasting away and decline had seized upon the poor little -spinster; and it was a case in which doctor's prescriptions were of -no use. Miss Spencer's time had come. - -Sylvia visited her friend indefatigably, sitting with her long hours -daily, within doors if the weather were bad, by her wheeled sofa on -the lawn during the fine hot days. She took her grief with a certain -bitterness of wrath against that man of long ago who had wronged the -poor little lady so irreparably. It made her curt of speech, and -little disposed to notice what was happening where other folk were -concerned, and her engrossment made Pamela's lot more lonely. - -Sylvia's court had in no way diminished its loyalty or its numbers, -but just for the present the young men were put on one side, and -accepted their position. They were able to sympathise with one -another, for their lady had never bestowed a mark of preference -on any one over the others, that jealousy could be excited. But -their absence from Carrickmoyle, while it sensibly brightened other -houses, made that more lonesome. - -Pamela had not seen Miss Spencer for some time, when one day Sylvia -announced to her that the old lady wished to see her. - -"You must go, of course," she said, with the brusqueness of grief. -"I shall come afterwards and relieve you, so that you will be at -home in time for Glengall." - -Pamela went over after lunch, and found Miss Spencer on the sofa -on the open lawn of Dovercourt, with its delightful views of the -distant hills. - -"It is a fine world to be leaving," said the old lady, nodding at -the distances, when she had made Pamela take the low chair beside -her. - -Pamela had noticed at once an indefinable change in Miss Spencer. -The old, half-crazy, brooding look had disappeared, and though the -face seemed vanishing and melting away in its wasting and fragility, -the eyes were clear, as if a film had rolled off from them. - -Pamela said nothing. The change in Miss Spencer, even since she had -last seen her, shocked her. - -"There, there, child!" said the little woman, patting her hand. -"Why talk about gloomy things on such a day as this, and with your -great day approaching? But what is the matter?"--scrutinising her -closely--"you don't look very bride-like." - -"It is the heat," said Pamela languidly; "I haven't felt very lively -since it set in so hot." - -"I remember the time I would have danced at my wedding in the crater -of Vesuvius. Things are not the same nowadays. There, child," she -went on kindly, "you will have some tea? I shall have more made for -Minx, when she comes. She told you I wanted to see you?" - -"Yes," said Pamela, "and I shall like the tea, Miss Spencer. It was -hot crossing the bog. I shall go home through the woods." - -The tea was brought, and when Pamela had had hers, Miss Spencer, -who had been watching her with kind intentness all the time, said -suddenly-- - -"I made my will yesterday, Pam." - -Pamela looked up in surprise. - -"I have provided for Minx. I have left her this place, and a good -deal of money. She will look after my poor for me." - -Pamela nodded her head. - -"I've left you nothing, Pam. But I've given Mary what will start her -in housekeeping. _You_ are going to marry a rich man." - -"You are good to think of Mary." - -"It is easier to do now than if I had lived longer. Between my -legacy and what Glengall will do she need not want." - -"She deserves to be happy." - -"But what is the matter with you, Pam? Why aren't _you_ happy?" - -"I am happy." - -"With that face, child! There was a woman once--perhaps you know -her--whose lover went away and never came back. Perhaps he was dead; -perhaps he had forgotten. You look as if your lover had never come -back." - -Pamela covered her face with her hands. - -"There, child! I don't want to distress you, but I am in trouble -about you. What if he came back, after all?" - -"He never will." - -"He looked as if he would. Anyhow, if he never did, it would be -better to be like that woman--a little cracked, perhaps, and always -expecting her lover, till she woke up one day dying, and in her -right mind--it would be better to be like her than to marry without -love." - -Pamela trembled, but her face was hidden. - -"Tell me, Pam. You won't mind confiding in an old woman who has -only a few days more to live. What did you do it for? It wasn't the -money, and all it could bring, attracted you?" - -[Illustration: "Tell me, Pam. You won't mind confiding in an old -woman."] - -"No, oh, no!" - -"I thought not. What was it?" - -"You don't know how good he is." - -"That's not enough, Pam, though it might serve if your heart were -free. What is that to make you give up your life, your freedom to -think, to hope, to pray? It will be one long struggle, Pamela. You -will be like a creature in prison, for whom the free world were -paradise enough." - -"I know Glengall is good," she went on. "Another girl might come to -love him, in spite of his grey hairs, but not you, Pam. One sees -clearer when one is going to leave all this. Why did you do it, Pam?" - -"It is too late to ask." - -"Why, Pam?" - -"Partly because my father must winter abroad and we had no money. -Partly, too, because I was angry with--with someone I loved, and I -thought I would get rid of the anger and the thought of him if I -were married." - -"Minx would have taken care of your father. It was a useless -sacrifice, Pamela." - -She looked at her a minute hesitatingly. - -"My people, those of them who survive, are rich. I could take care -of you, too, Pam." - -"It is too late to make any difference." - -"It is not too late while you are yet free." - -"You don't know how good he is. And he has ordered his future life -so that I shall always be the centre of it. I can't break his heart." - -"If Lord Glengall knew, he would be the first to set you free." - -"He would, because he is all unselfishness. But he will never know." - -"How will you keep it from him?" - -"I shall learn to love him." - -"My poor Pam!" - -"Ah!" cried Pamela sobbing. "Don't try to turn me back. Because I am -unhappy, and a burden to myself, would you forbid me making another -person happy, and he one worthy of all happiness?" - -"It is not too late, Pam." - -"It is too late. And here is Sylvia. See how punctual she is. She -grudges me this half-hour alone with you." - -Sylvia looked curiously at her sister's haggard and tear-stained -eyes, but made no comment. She had little sympathy with Pamela's -languid looks this summer. She was one who had never felt a wound, -and so had scant comprehension of the troubles of her sister, whose -lot, indeed, she considered a highly desirable one. - -After a few minutes Pamela stood up and took her leave. - -She went by the shady paths through the woods, and Pat, who had -accompanied her, scurried hither and thither in pursuit of many -a pair of bright eyes and many a white scut. She was in no hurry -to get home. After the disturbance of her conversation with Miss -Spencer, she dreaded the meeting with her _fiance_. - -It had been a shock to her to learn that, if she had not been -so precipitate, her father would still have been safe; for Miss -Spencer's life was to be counted by weeks, and Sylvia's tenderness -for him could be trusted. - -The green glades of the wood were exquisite. She looked about -her--at the roof of branches against the blue-and-white sky, at the -green moss, dotted with harebells, and flecked by broad patches of -sunlight on its velvety shade. The birds were singing their last -love-songs, and the wood was full of the music of many waters. - -Ah! With an overwhelming revulsion of feeling it came upon the girl -that if she were only free, with her life in her hands, the beauty -of the free world were, as Miss Spencer had said, paradise enough. -If she were but free, if she were but free! - -She had come to the Wishing Well in the wood. She put up her hand to -her throat. Round it was a slender little chain of jewels and gold -which Lord Glengall had given her. It was choking her. - -She took it off stealthily, and laid it on the moss at her feet. -Then she took a bracelet--his gift also--from her arm. Then she drew -off her engagement ring of diamonds and emeralds, and added it to -the glittering heap. If only she could remove those other bonds as -easily! And all the time she hated herself for the wish. - -Mechanically she stooped down, and, taking the water in her hand, -drank of it. She wished she might forget what had happened here, and -the poisoned sweetness of glances and words during those months of -last winter. - -"I must forget--I must forget," she wailed, half aloud. "It lasted -such a little while. There was no time for it to take hold upon my -life." - -And then her hands fell to her side, for there was a quick step -beside her, and, turning, she saw Anthony Trevithick. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE WOOD OF STRANGE MEETINGS. - - -"Pamela!" - -He had come back, and his eyes and his voice were full of fire. - -"Pamela! What have you done to yourself, my sweetheart? You are not -the Pamela I left." - -She had turned towards him as irresistibly as the needle to the -pole. But at his words a quick shiver ran through her. Her eyes -turned from him and darkened. Her head drooped. - -"You have come too late," she said, almost under her breath; and her -voice was cold. - -"Look at me, Pam. I have so much to tell you that you must hear. You -must not be angry with me. We have been cheated and tricked. I wrote -to your father to say I would come and ask for you, Pam, the road -being clear." - -"He never had your letter." - -"It was not posted, Pamela. I must tell you, Pam, though it is hard. -You have a right to know. My mother intercepted the letter." - -"She detested me. I knew it from the first moment her cold eyes -rested upon me." - -"She does not like me, Pam, much. But that will not part us." - -"Ah!" said Pam, and her voice was almost a cry. "But we _are_ -parted. She could not do it, but I have done it by my own act." - -His foot knocked against the heap of trinkets on the moss. - -"What are these, Pam?" he asked wonderingly. - -"Give them to me," she implored. "They are mine. And you must go -away, Sir Anthony, and never come again." - -"Why, I see"--holding the jewels in his hand--"they are his gifts. -But you have thrown them off!" - -His eyes blazed suddenly. - -"It is an omen, Pam. Let him follow his jewels. What right has he to -buy you? You had given yourself to me." - -"Ah!" cried Pam, still stretching out her hands for the jewels. "You -don't know what you are talking about. He is the best man in all -the world; and our wedding-day is fixed, and my wedding-dress is -ordered." - -The young man flung the jewels on the ground. - -[Illustration: The young man flung the jewels on the ground.] - -"There," he said, "let them lie where I found them. Why should we -think of them? It is all a bad dream, Pamela, but not so bad as it -might have been--not so bad as it might have been. Why, you are -talking folly, Pam, about wedding-days and wedding-dresses. It is -our wedding-day you must think of, and the wedding-dress you will -wear for me." - -He held out his arms to her imploringly, and for a moment, with a -dazed look, she seemed as if she must come. Then she pushed him off -with a gesture of her two hands. - -"No," she said. "Love is not everything--love is not everything. -There is honour, there is loyalty, there is faith. And you,--you -have your cousin to think about. She is sweet and lovely. I felt it, -though I----" - -She broke off suddenly. - -"Though you loved me and were jealous"; and he laughed masterfully. -"All wrong, my Pam! I never cared for Kitty in that way, nor she for -me. She is going to marry my chum, Jack Leslie. They have been in -love with each other for years." - -"Your mother told me----" - -His face darkened. - -"I know. I shall forgive her when you have yielded your will to -mine." - -"That will never be." - -"Never, Pam? Ah! yes, it will. If I had come here and found that -you loved this other man, I could have done nothing but leave you. -I came full of anger and fury. All through the journey I had been -goading myself to a jealous madness; but the minute I saw you here -beside the well where I told you I loved you, I knew you were mine. -I can afford to forgive Lord Glengall." - -"What do you propose to do?" - -"I shall go to the house and explain to your father about the -missing letter. I was on my way there when I turned aside to the -Wishing Well and found you." - -"My father loves Lord Glengall." - -"He loves you better, Pam. He will not want you to marry him, loving -me." - -"You take too much for granted." - -"Oh, no, I don't, Pam! You are not the girl to love me seven months -ago and love another man to-day. And your eyes betray you, darling!" - -"And if my father chooses Lord Glengall before you?" - -"Then I will tell him the choice does not rest with him. I will go -to Lord Glengall himself." - -"And if he should refuse to listen to you?" - -"Then I will come to you, Pamela, my beloved." - -She suddenly turned on him her beautiful, stormy eyes, and her face -was full of tragedy. - -"And I shall send you away," she said. "It is no question of loving. -I shall not see you any more, Tony"--using the familiar name -unconsciously--"never, I hope, after to-day. And I love you; I do -love you, and if I might love you for ever I should be the happiest -woman on earth. No, don't come near me, for I am saying good-bye to -you. I decline to purchase my happiness, and even yours, at the cost -of unhappiness to the best man I ever knew. Ah! go now, my love, and -do not tempt me any more. You will soon forget me." - -She turned as if to go, but before Anthony Trevithick could make any -effort to detain her, a quiet voice spoke beside them. - -"I came to meet you, Pamela. I expected to find you alone. Who is -this gentleman?" - -Pamela turned quickly, and put her hand into the hand of her -betrothed. - -"It is Sir Anthony Trevithick, Lord Glengall." - -The two men bowed coldly. - -"I will take Miss Graydon home now," said Lord Glengall, drawing her -hand through his arm. "I am grateful to you for having taken care of -her." - -[Illustration: "I will take Miss Graydon home now," said Lord -Glengall.] - -The two stood looking at each other, and the air was as if charged -with a storm. - -"I am staying in the neighbourhood," said Sir Anthony stiffly. "I -shall hope to see your lordship later on." - -"Come," whispered Pamela to her betrothed, "come away. I will -explain to you." - -She stole one glance at the hot and angry face of her young lover. -Then, without a word, she passed out of his sight down one of the -wood paths, still clinging to Lord Glengall's arm. - -They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then she lifted her eyes -to her companion's sad face. - -"You heard what I said," she half-whispered. "I am not afraid of -you; I was loyal." - -"Yes, you were loyal, Pam, in the spirit, but loyalty without love -is poor comfort. It is not enough for me." - -"I do love you." - -"I believe you do, Pam, but there are different kinds of love. Is -this that other you once told me about?" - -"Yes." - -"I thought so. You have had few opportunities for meeting men in -your quiet life. This is the lad who was your father's pupil?" - -"The son of his old friend, Sir Gerald Trevithick." - -"I ought to have met him when he was here. But I was finishing up in -Australia. He is honest, Pam--is he?" - -"I am sure he is--now. Before I thought he was false." - -"How did it come that he went away like that, having made you love -him?" - -"He was called away to a sick uncle. He wrote to father to explain, -but the letter never reached him." - -"You are sure he wrote?" - -"Yes, he has told me. His mother----You saw her once?" - -"A frozen-looking woman, dressed like an empress, who came one day. -She was so haughty to me that I very soon removed myself." - -"That was her." - -"My poor little Pam!--that was the woman you went to visit -afterwards? I had not realised it. I never thought of her after that -day." - -"She made me very unhappy. From the first she had a quiet way -of making me feel not of her world, and afterwards she was -horrid--about papa. She told me--falsehoods, too." - -"Why didn't you come home, Pam?" - -"I wouldn't let them know that the visit had been so horrible. Papa -was pleased for me to go. Then he fell ill, and I came away." - -"What did she tell you, Pam?" - -"She told me Sir Anthony was engaged to his cousin. It was she who -intercepted his letter to papa, in which he said he would come back." - -"Ah! there are such women. But why didn't he speak fully and frankly -before he went?" - -"I do not know. There was some reason. He spoke of something that -stood in the way." - -Lord Glengall frowned, with his eyes on the ground. - -"I shall find out the reason," he said. - -"Ah! no," cried Pamela, clinging to his arm. "Let it be. I have told -him he must go away. I belong to you, and not to him." - -A little spasm of pain passed over the irregular features. - -"Don't try me too much, Pamela, or I might take you at your word." - -"I want you to take me at my word." - -"I am sure you do--at this moment." - -"Now and always." - -"My little Pam! Still mine till I give you up of my own free will. -You will trust me to do what is for the best?" - -"I will trust you for ever. You are not going to give me up?" - -Again his face contracted. - -"Not unless I ought to, Pam. Not unless the lad is straight and can -prove himself worthy of you. If I feel he can make you happier than -I can, I will give you to him. If not, I will keep you in spite of -yourself, and trust to my love to make you forget him." - -"I think that might easily come true." - -"Don't make it hard for me, Pam, if I have to cede my right -to another. Pamela"--she had lifted her hands to him in her -emotion--"where is your ring?" - -Pamela wrung her hands in her trouble. - -"Do not be angry with me," she entreated. "I took it off in the -wood, there where you found me. It is there still." - -"Pamela," his voice was stern. "Did _he_ remove your ring?" - -"No, no. A thousand times, no! How could you think I would let him?" - -"Forgive me, child--I ought to have known you better. But why did -you take off the ring?" - -She looked to left and right, as though seeking a way of escape, and -answered nothing. - -"I see," said Lord Glengall, and his face had a look of suffering. -"You took it off because it irked you to wear it. You wanted to be -free." - -"It was only a mood." - -"A bad mood for me, child. Why could you not have trusted me, and -have told me I had asked too much? It would have been kinder." - -"I shall never forgive myself," cried Pam. - -"I am going back for the ring, Pam. Run away home now, and I shall -bring it. Run now--I can keep you in sight till I see you within the -door of Carrickmoyle. I shall not be long." - -"The ring is on the ground, by the well," said Pamela, her head -hanging like the head of a sensitive child caught in the act of -wrongdoing. "You will find it there, and my necklet and bracelet -also." - -Her voice stumbled as she made her full confession. - -"Poor Pam!" said Lord Glengall. - -"Ah!" she said, "if you would only forget about it. There was never -any man like you. If I do not love you now, it is only because he -came first. I shall love you in time. I could not help it." - -"Kiss me, Pam, before you go. I have not asked you for kisses when I -might." - -"I have done nothing but hurt you," she cried, conscience-stricken. -Then she lifted her face for his kiss. - -[Illustration: "I have done nothing but hurt you," she said.] - -"And I have been hurting you, quite unconsciously, all the time. It -is the old story of May and December. But, thank God! it is not too -late." - -He lifted his hat again, with the reverential gesture characteristic -of him. As he stood bare-headed, a glint of the dying sun fell on -his hair and forehead. It made him look old and dusty and tired. - -Then Pamela went away slowly across the park to the house, while he -stood watching her. When she had entered the house, he went back -down the wood path. - -As he went slowly and sadly, he felt something thrust against him. -He looked down. It was Pamela's dog, Pat, who had remained behind, -hunting an elusive rabbit, and had only just come up with their -trail. The dog jumped about him with demonstrations of joy. - -Lord Glengall stooped down and patted the rough head. - -"I am not to be your new master, after all, old fellow," he said. - -Pat licked his hand vigorously, and then looked up inquiringly into -his face. - -"She has gone home," said Lord Glengall in answer, "and I should be -a bad substitute." - -But Pat manifested very unmistakably that he was going to accompany -this friend of his back into the woods. - -"Ah! good little beast," said Lord Glengall, oddly comforted. "It is -good to have a dog sorry for one, Pat." - - [END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN.] - - - - -[Illustration: _Illustrated from Photographs._] - -CURIOUS CHARITABLE GIFTS - - -It is a well-known and pleasing fact that several millions of pounds -are annually devoted, throughout the kingdom, to the purposes of -public charity, but few people are aware to what a great extent -charitable gifts in _kind_ are nowadays sent to philanthropic -institutions. These "donations" vary in value from a few pence -to hundreds of pounds; and although the greater number consist -of ordinary articles which are easily disposed of, yet some most -extraordinary gifts are frequently received, of which the outside -public hears little. - -Quite recently two mummified hands--one with the forearm -attached--both authoritatively stated to be over 3,000 years old, -were sent to the Church Army by a West-End physician, who brought -them from Egypt, and they will doubtless be the means of an -appreciable accession to the funds of the organisation when disposed -of. - -The Salvation Army also receives some curious articles at times. -Jewellery of various kinds often finds its way to the Headquarters, -and some little time ago a deaf-and-dumb convert presented a perfect -model in cork of one of the barracks, showing the soldiers marching -in and the roughs gathered around; whilst a travelling showman who -recently joined the Army begged to be allowed to hand the officers -his stock-in-trade, which included two remarkable-looking effigies -used in his ventriloquial entertainments. - -The most singular donations received by the Army, however, are -presented at the harvest festivals. General Booth's followers are -exceptionally energetic at such times, and it is no uncommon thing -for the proceeds of the gifts collected for a festival service in a -poor neighbourhood to amount to some seventy or eighty pounds, half -of which is retained for the local funds, whilst the remainder is -sent to Headquarters as a donation towards the general expenses. An -impromptu barn is frequently erected in the meeting-room with the -front open to the audience, and in this the gifts are displayed to -the best advantage. - -In addition to fruit, flowers, and vegetables, presents of live -stock are often made which are not _always_ acceptable. For -instance, at one place a calf was given, and was accommodated in a -temporary stall on the platform. But it did not appear to enjoy the -service. Whenever the band played, it made such a terrible noise -that eventually it had to be escorted to a quiet corner outside. -Birds of many descriptions have also joined in these services; and a -Russian cat which was presented on such an occasion kept up harvest -celebrations during the night, we are told, by devouring a pound of -beef sausages, which represented another, though humbler, gift. - -[Illustration: MUMMIFIED REMAINS PRESENTED TO THE CHURCH ARMY.] - -Many people will question the advisability of allowing live stock to -be present at such services. The important fact remains, however, -that gifts of this nature frequently serve to attract large -crowds of the very people the Army officers wish to influence. -But difficulties sometimes arise through the thoughtlessness of -enthusiastic donors. At Chester recently a live donkey was led -up four flights of stairs to the barracks, and handed over as a -free-will offering. When the service concluded, it was discovered -to be impossible for the animal to walk down again; and, to use -the words of the officer, they "had to tie the thing up in a knot, -wrap it up in a sack, and lower it gently and gracefully over the -banisters!" We may hope that the patient animal did not suffer any -ill effects from his attendance at the service. - -Some most curious articles are also occasionally received by the -Poor Clergy Relief Corporation, which, as is well-known, does a most -useful work by making grants in money and clothing to clergymen in -temporary distress, and to the widows and children of clergymen -who are left insufficiently provided for. These articles comprise -revolvers, respirators, artificial teeth and wigs, feeding-bottles, -military and naval uniforms, silk-worm cocoons, and bicycles, and -all are turned to account either by direct gift or by realisation at -a jumble or auction sale. An amusing incident, the secretary states, -recently occurred in the clothing department in connection with an -involuntary gift. The matron was filling a large bag for a poor -family whilst a carpenter was in the room engaged on some repairs. -He had placed his cap--which was a good one--on the table, and the -matron, thinking it part of the stock, promptly annexed it and -despatched it with the other things. It was gratefully acknowledged! -Of course, the carpenter had to be provided with a new cap, which -he has since been careful to place in his pocket when working in the -building. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Russell and Sons, Baker Street, W._) - -A STACK OF OLD CLOTHING. - -(_At the Offices of the Poor Clergy Relief Corporation._)] - -But the institution which receives the greatest number of gifts in -kind is undoubtedly Dr. Barnardo's well-known Home for Waifs and -Strays in Stepney Causeway. During last year alone 9,651 parcels -were delivered from various supporters, containing in the aggregate -over 97,000 articles of various kinds! When it is also stated that -the sales of these goods realised, in the same twelve months, the -grand total of L1,850, some idea will be gathered of the enormous -number of articles dealt with every year, and the welcome addition -which they bring to the income of the Homes. - -The gifts come from all quarters of the globe. Even such far-distant -countries as India, China, Corea, Burmah, and Japan contribute their -quota, and many a pathetic history and much amazing romance is -embodied in the articles received. - -One of the most valuable, and certainly one of the most remarkable, -of the donations which have found their way to Stepney Causeway -was ex-King Theebaw's ivory throne, sent a year or two ago by a -gentleman in Rangoon. The throne was somewhat in the form of a -large armchair, and was ordered by the king in the palmy days of -his despotism. According to his edict, only the very best craftsmen -were employed to fulfil the commission, and only the finest and -soundest tusks were used. The design was exceedingly elaborate, -and both time and special talent were needed for the task, which -it took years to accomplish. But, such is the irony of Fate, when -the work was practically finished the king was deposed, and the -completed throne never passed into his possession. After some little -time it came into the hands of the Rangoon donor who so generously -presented it to Dr. Barnardo. This interesting piece of furniture -was estimated to be worth some L500. The detail of the work was -exquisite, a delicate tracery covering nearly the whole, with some -most beautiful and elaborate carving in high relief lying behind -it. The little figures inside appeared to be executed with the -utmost thoroughness, and the chair was an eloquent testimony to the -genius and patience of the native workmen. - -From the same country a number of quaint silver goods are constantly -received from a resident Englishman and his native wife, both of -whom take a very keen interest in the work of saving the waifs of -the slums. Owing to the extensive fluctuations in the value of the -rupee, and to the low rate of exchange in England, they find it more -advantageous to purchase native goods which will realise good prices -in London than to send their donations in cash. - -[Illustration: A HANDSOME PIECE OF INDIAN NEEDLEWORK. - -(_Worked in Gold and Silver Braid and Sequins._)] - -Dr. Barnardo has little difficulty in disposing of such gifts. -There is a special trade department at Stepney Causeway, consisting -of a show-room and several large and airy stores. These storage -rooms, which are not open to the general public, contain a most -extraordinary collection of gifts, including such articles as -bedsteads, false hair and teeth, old pictures, jewellery, a -microscopic cabinet, a three-manual organ, an oak lectern, boxes of -geological and ornithological specimens, air pillows, sewing and -sausage machines, a bottled snake, as well as a great variety of -clothing both new and secondhand. - -[Illustration: A GROUP OF CURIOUS GIFTS. - -(_From Ephesus, New Zealand, and India._)] - -Amongst the more valuable of the articles which have recently -been received may be mentioned a number of exceedingly dainty and -costly Eastern shawls, and a cape constructed entirely from birds' -feathers, which is supposed to be the only one of its kind in -England. This handsome cape originally belonged to a Spanish lady, -and is now more than a hundred years old. Each feather was worked in -separately, and the various colours are so beautifully blended that -the worker must have possessed considerable artistic talent as well -as great patience, for it contains some thousands of tiny feathers -of various hues. Another piece of work that must have entailed an -immense amount of time and care is a sample of Indian needlework, -of which we give a photograph. The ground is coarse black cloth, -but the design is so cleverly worked in gold and silver braid -and sequins that the result is a most handsome example of native -embroidery, which needs to be seen to be fully appreciated. - -[Illustration: THE RECEIVING ROOM AT STEPNEY CAUSEWAY.] - -From India also come the two models of native types photographed -in the group shown on the preceding page. They are most delicately -moulded, every detail being scrupulously attended to. The figure on -the left is ten inches in height, and represents a grass-cutter, -whilst that on the right depicts an Indian water-carrier, and both -bear the name of the modeller--Buckshar Paul of Krishnagar. - -A different form of Indian work may be seen in the candlestick in -the same illustration, which is moulded in brass in the form of a -serpent, and forms a curious and certainly not inartistic ornament. -Standing beside this is an ordinary-shaped box with a diamond design -on the lid, and this article is specially interesting, owing to -its having been constructed of sixteen different varieties of wood -grown in New Zealand. It is a far cry from this fertile colony to -the historic city of Ephesus, but we are carried thither in order -to explain the presence of the two odd-looking pieces of ware -(representing an ancient vase and lamp) to be seen in the forefront -of the same photographic group. They were selected at random from -a number of such articles which Dr. Barnardo has in his possession -awaiting a remunerative purchaser. The extraordinary character of -the gifts received at the institution is well exemplified in these -articles, which were actually discovered in the ruins of the Temple -of Diana by the well-known antiquarian, the late Mr. F. Wood. Each -piece is authenticated by the signature of the excavator, which is -affixed, and they were presented to Dr. Barnardo by Mr. Wood's widow -about three years ago. - -A striking instance of the wonderful changes wrought by time is -shown in the generous gifts in money and kind recently received -from the descendants of the mutineers of the _Bounty_. Here is -romance pure and unadulterated, and Dr. Barnardo may well have said -that the following letter which recently came into his hands read -like "something out of a book." It appears that the captain of a -British vessel wrote to him from Australia as follows: "I called -in our passage through the Pacific at Pitcairn Island. A number of -the natives came off, and when they learned I was bound to Great -Britain, they desired me to take some presents for you, consisting -of a case full of fancy articles made by themselves. I have already -despatched this case to you, and I now enclose postal orders for -L5 10s. 8d., being the cash, less a spurious two-shilling piece, -which the islanders had collected for your institution." The case -contained six walking-sticks, eighty cocoanut-shell baskets, as well -as a quantity of shells and a large number of bananas. These gifts -form undoubted evidence of the Christian and philanthropic spirit of -the present Pitcairn Islanders, and at the same time bear valuable -testimony to the world-wide appreciation of Dr. Barnardo's life-work. - -[Illustration: A CORNER OF THE CLOTHES STORE. - -(_At Dr. Barnardo's Homes._)] - -A walk through the storage rooms is amply repaid by the number and -the limitless variety of the articles to be seen therein. Here is an -organ constructed by an amateur after seven years of assiduous work. -It is unique in its way, the pipes being made of cardboard; but -whether the gift of the ingenious organ-builder was an altogether -disinterested one is not for me to state. I heard it whispered -that the cleverly constructed instrument refused to work properly, -and was somewhat of the nature of a white elephant to the present -owners. Another example of tireless ingenuity is to be seen in the -three large brass models of engines which adorn a corner of the same -room. The mechanism of these engines is perfect in every way, and -the models are of considerable value. - -In close proximity to them is a dinner service of Worcester china, -dated 1794, and consisting of 150 pieces. This will doubtless soon -be "discovered" by a lover of old china, who will also see another -"find" near by equally worthy of attention. I refer to a dessert -service of seventeen pieces, which originally formed a wedding -present before it found its way to Stepney Causeway. The service is -more than fifty years old, and its chief value lies in the exquisite -pictures to be found on each plate. The design is different in every -case, and when it is added that the pictures are hand-painted the -munificence of the kindly donor will be recognised. - -But it is impossible to give an adequate idea of the curiously mixed -contents of the stores. Cumbersome articles such as mail-carts, -rocking-horses, Bath-chairs, and water-beds will be found adjacent -to billiard balls, pipes, samples of inlaid ebony work and other -"small" goods; whilst near at hand will be found piles upon piles of -articles of dress of all sorts and conditions. It is not surprising -that a number of assistants are kept constantly employed in -receiving, listing, sorting, and selling these miscellaneous gifts, -which are sent by a grateful public as a small donation to the good -and beneficent work which has for so many years been carried on by -means of the Homes. - - A. PALFREY HOLLINGDALE. - -[Illustration: CLASSIFYING THE MISCELLANEOUS GIFTS. - -(_A View at Stepney Causeway._)] - - - - -HIS STRANGE REPENTANCE. - -AN ADDRESS TO YOUNG MEN. - -By the Venerable Archdeacon Madden. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Elliott and Fry, Baker Street, W._) - -ARCHDEACON MADDEN.] - - -It was close upon midnight. I was alone in my study, busy clearing -off a pile of letters that had been waiting all day for a "leisure -moment." In the midst of my work a vigorous ring of the door-bell -resounded through the house, followed by such a peremptory _ran-tan_ -at the knocker that I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door to -see what was the matter. There I found two rough-looking men, who -lost no time in stating their business. "We want your reverence," -they said, "to come and see a poor young fellow who is dying; the -doctor has given him up, and he is crying out for a minister to come -and pray with him." I could not refuse such an appeal, and off I -started with the men. They led me to a narrow street in my parish -and into one of the most dingy houses in the street. After groping -my way, by the aid of lighted matches, up a dark flight of stairs, I -found the dying man in a dirty back bedroom. - -He could not have been more than thirty years of age. He was propped -up in bed, and the grey look of death was upon his face. - -As I entered he turned eagerly to me, and, holding out his hand, -said, "I'm dying, and I am not ready--_not ready_!" - -Just as I was about to speak he suddenly gasped out, "John, John! -hand me those things on the table." John came forward and laid upon -the bed a sporting paper, a pack of cards, a set of dice, a bottle -of whisky, and some race lists. - -There was a deliberation about the whole business which convinced me -that the matter had been talked over between the men. When all were -spread out in due order, the dying man again turned to me and said, -"Look, vicar, those things have been the ruin of me; and they have -been a curse to me, and I want to turn my back upon them all--I want -you to help me to do it." Again I was about to speak, when suddenly, -stooping down, he gathered them all up and thrust them into my hands -with the words "Shove them up my back." I was so staggered by the -request that I stammered out "What--what do you mean?" "I want you," -he said, "as God's minister to shove them up underneath my shirt. -I want to put them behind my back. I want God to see that I have -done with them for ever." I did not know whether to laugh or cry. It -was all so absurd and yet so pathetic. The man was in dead earnest. -He had evidently thought over it, and meant it as an "act" of true -repentance. He was undoubtedly a man who had "come down in the -world," and it was not all ignorance. - -I said to him, "I will do what you wish, but I will kneel down -first, and you will repeat a prayer after me." I knelt and he -repeated after me these words: "Father, I have sinned against -heaven and before Thee. I renounce all my sins--from the bottom of -my heart I renounce them all. Father, receive Thy prodigal son, and -forgive me for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." - -I then rose from my knees and carried out his wishes. To us all in -that chamber of death it was a most solemn sacramental rite. I, -indeed, verily believed that it was the outward and visible sign of -the inward and spiritual grace of a true repentance. There I held -the things that had cursed his young manhood, ruined a promising -career, and brought him down to poverty and a premature grave; and -as I held those emblems of evil behind his back I told him of a -Saviour who "carried our sins"--upon whom the Lord had laid the -iniquities of us all. - -Little by little he gasped out his tale of sin: the gambling, the -betting, and the "horsey set" he had got amongst as a youth; then -drinking and bad company; then "striding came ruin and poverty -like a weaponed warrior." Deserted, degraded, he crawled into this -wretched room, sick in mind and body, to die forsaken and forgotten -by all his old boon companions except John. - -The scene of that night has left an indelible impression upon my -heart and mind. I believe the merciful God accepted that strange -outward act as an evidence of sincere repentance. To the very last -he would have us hold those instruments of sin between his shirt and -his bare back, and as I held them there he died calling upon God. - -When I passed out of that house of death into the streets and the -morning light, I prayed, as I had never prayed before, that God in -His mercy might deliver this fair England of ours from the deadly -and degrading vice of gambling. - -It is over ten years since my midnight visit to that gambler's -death-bed. I remember still one sentence of the ruined man: "It -doesn't pay, sir! It doesn't pay!" Aye! and even if it does pay some -few, what then? Is it not ill-gotten gain? And if so, what shall it -profit such a man, though he gain the whole world and lose his own -soul? - -The vice of gambling does not stand alone. It is the mother of sins; -the sordid and the sensual too frequently go hand in hand. Lying, -blasphemy, impurity, dishonesty, trickery, double-dealing, follow in -its train. - -The gambler who, by a stroke of "luck," becomes rich in an hour, is -tempted to spend his winnings in riotous living. It is with him a -case of "luxury" to-day, despair and drink to-morrow. - -A general atmosphere of blackguardism seems ever to pervade the -race-course. Here is a cutting from the daily press of August last:-- - - "BLACKGUARDISM AT THE ALEXANDRA PARK RACES.--Fourteen - brutal assaults, committed on the Alexandra Park race-course - on Saturday afternoon, have been reported to the police, the - assaults in several cases having been accompanied by robbery. - One of the gentlemen assaulted was a professional man well - known in the neighbourhood. He was standing at a refreshment - bar in the grand stand when he was half-killed by roughs. - Another person who was assaulted was a member of the Jockey Club - staff; but many frequenters of the course were heard to express - pleasure at this, in the hope that it would lead to some better - provision being made for the exclusion of well-known roughs from - the rings and stands." - -I have seen more than one young man of my acquaintance stand in the -felon's dock, and I know they were brought there by betting. I have -heard the wail of wife and children in the court as the culprit was -hurried from the dock to his cell. And what was left for him to do -when he was released from prison? Who will employ a man with the -stigma of "imprisonment for dishonesty" resting upon him? He sinks -lower and lower, dragging his poor wife and has little children down -with him in his degrading descent--down to abject misery. - -"In addition, too, to the frightful injustice to wives and children -caused by betting and gambling, and the results on the home life," -says a recent Report of the Convocation of York, "they have an -injurious effect on those who are addicted to them, deadening -their spiritual life, and making them indifferent to higher joys -and nobler pursuits while the passion lasts. An example of this is -afforded by Greville, who, in his memoirs, says: 'Thank God! the -races are over. I have had all the excitement and worry, but have -neither won nor lost. Nothing but the hope of gain would induce me -to go through the demoralising drudgery, which I am aware reduces -me to a level of all that is most disreputable and despicable, -for my thoughts are eternally absorbed in them. It is like -dram-drinking; having once begun, you cannot leave it off, though I -am disgusted all the time with my occupation.'" - -And it is useless, my brother, to juggle with your conscience in -this matter. Gambling is a vice, whether it be for penny points or -for "ponies." The question of the amount of the bet has nothing to -do with the sin of gambling. The principle is what we look at. - -"The wrong of gambling lies not in the excessive indulgence in an -intrinsically innocent practice, but in the surrender to chance -of acts which ought to be controlled by reason alone, and decided -by the will in accordance with the moral laws of justice or -benevolence." - -Brother men! shun this vice. It is the certain road to ruin. Do not -be lured to your doom by this terrible fascination. Shake off its -spell, renounce its tyranny: "It doesn't pay! It doesn't pay!" - -[Illustration: "It doesn't pay, sir! It doesn't pay!"] - -It is an accursed thing. It degrades the mind, it demoralises the -whole moral being, and, if not renounced, means everlasting ruin. - -This is no time for smooth words. Gambling is a growing evil in the -land. Women and children, as well as men, have become entangled -within its meshes, and are being dragged down to perdition. It -destroys all that is noble and unselfish in the human heart. It -paralyses the will, stultifies the reason, and stifles every holy -emotion in the soul. The man who "prepares a table for fortune and -fills up mingled wine to destiny," who makes chance his idol and -gain his god, will live to curse the day of his birth. Be wise, -therefore, O ye sons of men and seek the Lord your God with all your -hearts; for "the blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth -no sorrow with it." - - - - -Told in Sunshine Room.] - -[Illustration: THE PRINCE'S MESSAGE.] - -A Fairy Parable. By Roma White. - - -Once upon a time there was a country all sweet with the honey-smell -of white clover, and all full of music with the song of birds. Rain -and wind swept it now and then; but, when they had passed the warm -joy of sunshine came again, and the shadows of sailing, snowy clouds -drifted purple over the soft green sides of the hills where the -young kids played round their quiet mothers, so that all the people -who lived in the beautiful country felt its loveliness thrill their -hearts. - -But surrounding the clover-fields and the bright gardens and the -sunny meadows was a band of black darkness, and those who had passed -into the darkness never came back. Everybody who sang and laughed -and loved in the sunshine knew that some day their turn would come -to step alone into the strange country of night that girdled the -land like an impenetrable curtain; and sometimes one or another -would come and look sadly and tearfully on the darkness, and then -turn back with bowed head, and try to forget it. And sometimes a -sound of low, sad singing would approach it, and men and women, -with tears running down their faces, would accompany some dear one, -whose time in the bright country was finished, to the edge of the -silent darkness and watch him pass away into it, never to return; -and though they held out beseeching hands after him, and strained -their sight that they might perceive whither he had gone, the -darkness never gave up its secret; only continued to lie, hushed and -mysterious, round the land where the apple-blossom budded and the -young lambs played. - -Now the King of the country had seven daughters and an only son. The -daughters were very beautiful, but the son was fairer than the day. -His hair was as golden as the noontime of the South, and his eyes -were blue and laughing as the summer sea, and his mother loved him -better than life, from the day when he lay in a little white and -silver cradle by her side. - -The royal children played together in the gardens and courts of the -palace, and sometimes the Queen gathered them about her and told -them tales of the fairies and the dewy rings which they danced into -greenness on summer nights; or she would tell them of brave kings -who had done their duty, and loving queens whose names had been -blessed by their subjects. And the children would ask questions -about the dark belt that encircled the country, of which they had -heard, but which they had never seen. And then the Queen would shake -her head and fold her arms tightly about them one by one, but the -child that she pressed most closely to her was her only boy. - -But one day a great fear fell upon the kingdom, and all the palace -was hushed and still. It was told that the little Prince's days -were numbered, and that he must soon pass away. And a few hours -later twilight fell over the land, and through the twilight came -the solemn steps of mourners and the sound of tears. And the lilies -bent their white heads, and the roses nestled sadly together among -their green leaves as the royal procession swept wailing by through -the dusk. And for a few moments a child's voice spoke, and then -it ceased as the little Prince went bravely away, alone, into the -darkness, and those who had loved him were left behind. - -[Illustration: The little Prince went bravely ... into the darkness.] - -They returned by-and-by to the palace, and the King took up his -royal duties again, and the seven Princesses went back to their -lessons and to their play. Sometimes they would talk, with sudden -sobs, of their brother, and then they would forget him while tending -to their flowers and watching the wild birds on the wing. The King, -too, now and then, would rest his face upon his hands, and be very -silent for a while. But his kingdom claimed him, and he had not the -time always in which to mourn. - -Only the Queen never forgot, for the little Prince had been her -only son. Night after night she went alone to the edge of the -darkness, and tried to pierce it with her longing eyes, and to beat -it away with her mother's hands; but it was always motionless and -impassable, and seemed to extend into endless night. - -But one evening, as she knelt there, quiet for very weariness, -there came a sweet smell through the dusk, as if the spices of wild -thyme were crushed out by some approaching tread; and the sleeping -flowers that had hung heavily under the weight of her falling tears, -lifted their faces and unfolded their closed petals, as if they were -dreaming of the morning sun. And then, all at once, fragrance and -warmth and light were about the Queen; and, looking up, she saw the -radiant figure of a wise, quiet man. - -His voice spoke to her, and she heard many echoes in it, so that it -stirred her memory strangely. It was as if she listened to the notes -of a thrush on a dewy morning, or to the south wind among the summer -trees by night. - -"Why do you mourn here, all alone?" he asked her gently. - -Her tones shook as she answered him. - -"I am weeping for my only son, who has gone away from me into this -darkness by which we stand." - -For a moment the wise man was silent; his grave, tender eyes looked -down into hers. - -"You try to beat the darkness away with your hands," he said -by-and-by, "and you feel only that it is like solid rock to your -touch. You strain your sight to pierce it, and, as you gaze, you -realise its blackness, and it becomes deeper to your eyes. Why, -then, do you stay upon its margin?" - -"I stay because I hope and pray that, by dwelling near it, I may -catch a glimpse of my only son; that I may hear his voice speak to -me, or feel for a moment the warm, clinging touch of his little -hands. I stay because I crave for a message from him, to tell me -that he loves me still." - -Then there was pity in the wise man's eyes, and it was the sweet -pity of a mother who sees a child cry over a broken toy. - -"Your son has many messages far you," he said, "but you cannot find -or read them here; and, if you stay, your eyes will soon grow too -dim to see, and the darkness will hold itself all about your heart. -Turn your face and footsteps back to your people and your king, and -seek there a message from your son which shall speak of consolation." - -The Queen was silent then, and her feet and hands were still. She -looked up at the wise, quiet man, and, as she looked, she saw that -his eyes were like those of the child who had passed away, and she -caught at the hem of his robe with trembling fingers. - -[Illustration: "My sentence is--Forgiveness!"] - -"Who are you?" she cried. "Who are you, with your wise words, and -your eyes like those of my son, who was but a little, little child?" - -Then into the face of the man came a wonderful look, so that the -Queen, seeing it, bent her head and bowed her forehead upon her -hands. And it seemed to her, for a moment, as if strange sweet -scents blew to her, and the darkness broke away into long alleys of -light and bloom. And then there was a hush, and when she looked up -again the wise man was gone. - -But she remembered that he had given her the sweetest promise in the -world--the promise of a message from her only son; and, believing -him, she went away from the belt of darkness, and turned again to -the palace, to her children, and to her king. - -And as she passed along the road she came across a poor cripple who -had fallen and hurt himself by the way. His wounds bled, and he -looked up at the Queen with wistful eyes. So she went, herself, to -the nearest stream to fetch water for him, and she gave him some to -drink, and bound up the poor bruises, and soothed him with gentle -words. And as she tended him, she forgot for a moment the darkness -into which her son had passed, and only remembered that the land, in -spite of its beauty, was full of suffering and tears, and that she -had her work to do among her people; and she looked with her shining -mother's eyes into the cripple's face, and bade him be comforted. - -And then, all at once, a wonderful thing happened. The cripple -spoke, in faltering tones, to thank her; and his voice thrilled her, -for it was the voice of her little son. - -Wondering and grave, the Queen passed on. Some blue butterflies flew -by, circling in the still air. As she looked at them her heart was -suddenly stirred to reverence and gratitude and joy for the beauty -of their silken burnished wings. And as the thrill of tenderness -shook her, it seemed, all at once, as if a glow were across her -path, and as if, through the glow, she heard the child-laughter of -the little Prince who had passed away. - -And so it happened, day after day, as the weeks sped by. Whenever -the heart of the Queen was stirred to holiness by deeds and thoughts -which were true and lovely and pure there came to her all the tender -sweetness of memory and of communion, so that she knew that beyond -the darkness her little son still sent his thoughts to her in love. -But whenever she went to the belt of gloom to weep his voice was -silent, and it seemed to her as if he had gone away for ever. - -And one day there came a strange beggar to the palace gates, with -wild, wicked eyes and hatred of all men in his heart; and he had -sworn to injure the King because the King was great and good. He -kept his vow, and struck at the kind King as he was passing through -the gates. But the Queen saw the raised dagger, and sprang in front -of her husband, so that she received the blow herself. - -Then the Queen lay in strange silent illness, and the court met to -judge the deed. The beggar crouched, terrified and trembling, before -them; but, ere sentence could be given, a sweet woman's voice bade -those who condemned him to pause, and the judges saw that the Queen -had risen from her bed of sickness and stood among them. - -"Wait!" she cried, "wait! I, who have borne the pain, must speak the -sentence." - -She paused, and, crossing to the beggar, laid her hand upon his head. - -"My sentence is--Forgiveness!" - -Her voice rang out like a sweet silver trumpet in the court-room, -and everybody was very still. Then, all at once, the beggar burst -into tears. - -But nobody else spoke or moved. Only the tears of the beggar flowed -down until they made a tiny crystal pool, and the Queen, who bent -over him, saw into the pool as into a mirror. - -And she beheld the margin of the country and the deep black fog -which lay beyond; and as she looked, the fog broke away into long -gleaming alleys of flowers with shining mists above them, as if of -a rising sun, and, among the bloom, the face of the little Prince -smiled fully upon her once again. - -Then, all at once, she heard the voice of the wise, quiet man, and -she perceived that he stood again by her side. - -"What does it all mean?" she asked him breathlessly; "what does it -all mean?" - -The beggar, whose face was pressed to the hem of her robe; the -court, who still remained hushed and motionless; and the King, whose -eyes reverenced her, all waited for the wise man's reply. It came to -them softly, like the murmur of pine needles in a south wind. - -"There can be no Death where there is Love." - -[Illustration: decorative] - -[Illustration: Our Roll of Heroic Deeds - -We record this month a signal act of heroism which took place a -few years ago in a coal-pit near Dalkeith. The mine was suddenly -flooded, a vast volume of water rushed through the workings, and -it was only after some hours of dangerous and most difficult work -that the imprisoned miners were rescued. It was then discovered -that Walker, a boy of twelve, had been left behind, and immediately -James Nolans volunteered to save him. Nolans had to be forcibly -pushed through the rushing torrent by some of his comrades; then he -had to grope about under the water to find a rail which he used for -the purpose of guidance, and, after narrowly escaping death from -drowning, he eventually discovered the terrified lad. Even then it -was doubtful whether they would escape alive; but after a plucky -dash through the water, and by the help of some old ladders hastily -fastened together, they managed to regain their comrades, who never -expected to see them again.] - - - - -[Illustration: musical score] - -Rise, Gracious God, and Shine. - - _Words by_ WILLIAM HURN, 1813. _Music by_ H. WALFORD DAVIES, MUS.D. - (_Organist of the Temple Church._) - - -_With majesty._ - - 1. Rise, gracious God, and shine - In all Thy saving might! - And prosper each design, - To spread Thy glorious light: - Let healing streams of mercy flow, - That all the earth Thy truth may know. - Amen. - - 2. O bring the nations near, - That they may sing Thy praise; - Let all the people hear - And learn Thy gracious ways: - Reign, mighty God, assert Thy cause, - And govern by Thy righteous laws. - - 3. Put forth Thy glorious power; - The nations then will see! - And earth present her store - In converts born to Thee. - God, our own God, His Church will bless, - And earth will teem with fruitfulness. - - N.B.--The last verse should be sung _ff_ in unison. - - - - -TEMPERANCE NOTES AND NEWS. - -By a Leading Temperance Advocate. - - -THE CARE OF THE INEBRIATE. - -The present year has brought into operation a new Act of Parliament -dealing with the habitual drunkard. The unfortunate men and women -of the type of the notorious Jane Cakebread have been the despair -of stipendiary magistrates for years past. At the time of writing -the working of the new Act has not settled into shape, so it is all -too early to forecast its probable results. Meanwhile we tender our -congratulations to Dr. Norman Kerr, F.L.S., for it is to this humane -and philanthropic physician we are indebted for anything like an -intelligent treatment of the confirmed dipsomaniac. Dr. Kerr was -born at Glasgow in 1834, and graduated at Glasgow University in -1861. While yet a student he took a keen interest in temperance and -established a society for his fellow-students. From that time to -the present, his active services to the reform have been steadily -maintained. He takes a prominent part in the work of the Church -of England Temperance Society, the United Kingdom Alliance, and -the National Temperance League. It is, however, as an authority on -dipsomania that he is best known. He is the founder and President -of the Society for the Study and Cure of Inebriety, and it was at -his instigation that a highly successful Colonial and International -Congress on Inebriety was held in Westminster Town Hall in July, -1887. Dr. Kerr has written largely on the subject, and his learned -work on "Inebriety: Its Etiology, Pathology, Treatment, and -Jurisprudence," speedily passed into several editions. He is almost -as well known in the United States as at home. The gist of Dr. -Norman Kerr's views may be best indicated by the opening sentence of -the volume referred to. He writes:-- - -"No _disease_ is more common than inebriety, and yet none is so -seldom recognised. No _disease_ is more widespread. In the whole -circle of even an extensive acquaintance it may happen that no -member has been known to have suffered from any of the leading -diseases which prevail in our islands, that no one has been laid -low by phthisis or cancer. But there are very few families in the -United Kingdom which have not had at least one relative who has been -subject to inebriety." - -[Illustration: (_Photo: William Whiteley, Bayswater, W._) - -DR. NORMAN KERR.] - - -ANOTHER GOOD IDEA. - -The latest new effort to popularise temperance amongst women is a -scheme prepared by the Durham and Northumberland County Union of -the British Women's Temperance Association. It takes the form of a -summer school to be opened at Barnard Castle, where ladies may study -temperance in its scientific aspects, and receive various aids as -to the methods of imparting this knowledge. The forenoons will be -given to lectures, the afternoons to recreation, excursions, etc. -Full particulars may be obtained from Mrs. Richardson, The Gables, -Newcastle-on-Tyne. - - -BEER IN THE HAY AND HARVEST FIELDS. - -This is an age of specialists, and Mr. John Abbey is certainly the -specialist of the temperance propaganda in relation to agriculture. -The son of a yeoman, he very early turned his attention to the -importance of "soberising" our harvest fields. By his writings, -his speeches, and the invention of teetotal drinks called Stokos, -Hopkos, and Cokos, he has gradually produced a wonderful change in -agricultural circles. It is Mr. Abbey's habit to go the round of -the agricultural shows in their season, where he pitches his tent, -in which he dispenses his drinks, distributes his literature, and -discusses "the why and because" of his movement with all and sundry. -From the many letters received by him, we are permitted to quote one -from a correspondent who farms seven hundred acres:-- - -"I am glad to tell you that we have done harvest without a drop of -beer being given to the men, and they appear to like Stokos better -this year than ever. They usually had eight gallons or more a day, -and worked well with it, and throughout the excessive heat we had -not a man ill. Years ago the men would get beer into the field, -and there was a great deal of drunkenness among them, but now I -am thankful to say that Stokos has, by virtue of its excellent -qualities, practically _driven the beer out of the field_, and work -goes on delightfully." - -[Illustration: (_Photo: A. E. Coe, Norwich_) - -MR. JOHN ABBEY.] - -It may be mentioned that this agricultural work is only a detail of -Mr. Abbey's life, for he is the Organising Secretary of the Church -of England Temperance Society for Norwich Diocese, having previously -held a similar appointment far many years in Oxford Diocese. - -[Illustration: MR. ABBEY'S TENT AT THE NORFOLK AGRICULTURAL SHOW. - -(_Distributing Temperance Drinks._)] - - -COMING EVENTS. - -On April 13th a concert will be given at Stafford House, under the -patronage of H.R.H. the Duchess of York, in aid of the Church of -England Temperance Society Juvenile Union. On April 19th the annual -meeting of the Guild of Hope will be held at Grosvenor House, the -Duke of Westminster in the chair. On May 1st the annual meeting of -the National Temperance League will be held in Exeter Hall, the -Archbishop of Canterbury presiding. In July there will be two fetes -at the Crystal Palace--one on the 5th by the National Temperance -Choral Society, and the other on the 29th, under the direction of -the Church of England Temperance Society. - - -"GIVE THE BOY A CHANCE." - -During the past decade the Church of England Temperance Society has -developed a wonderful leaning towards practical effort. Its Police -Court Mission has been of incalculable service, and has received the -hearty recognition of such able magistrates as the late Mr. Montagu -Williams, Sir John Bridge, Mr. A. de Rutzen, and others. The Police -Court Missionaries have for some time been gravely concerned as to -what to do with young boys brought up for their first offences. -Last June the Church of England Temperance Society established a -Boys' Shelter Home at Gunnersbury. To this institution boys are now -remitted instead of to prison. Here they have a chance of learning -some useful industry, situations are found for them, and they are -thus given a new start in life. The Bishop of London opened the -Home, which is managed under the direction of a small sub-committee -of the London Diocesan Church of England Temperance Society. - -[Illustration: THE BOYS' SHELTER HOME. - -(_Established by the Church of England Temperance Society for first -offenders._)] - - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Debenham and Gould, Bournemouth._) - -MR. ROBERT SAWYER.] - - -AMONG THE RAILWAY MEN. - -One of the most interesting, and certainly one of the most useful, -temperance organisations, specially catering for a distinct class -of workers, is the United Kingdom Railway Temperance Union. It -commenced in a very humble way in 1882, and in a sense owes its -origin to Mr. S. Cutler, an earnest man employed by the Metropolitan -Railway Company, who approached the Church of England Temperance -Society to see if something could be done to bring together the -different railway men who were in sympathy with temperance work. -As the result of a conference, the Union was started, and it has -remained in connection with the Church of England Temperance -Society ever since. To-day it has branches on nearly every line -of railway in the United Kingdom; and every grade of the service, -from the influential director down to the humble bookstall lad, is -represented in the membership. The railway men were fortunate in -securing the interest of Mr. Robert Sawyer, Recorder of Maidenhead, -at the commencement of their operations, for besides contributing -very largely from his purse, Mr. Sawyer, as President of the Union, -practically devotes his life to the interests of railway men. He -is literally "in journeyings oft," and has a most able lieutenant -in Mr. A. C. Thompson, the first and only Secretary of the Union. -The railway men run a little temperance journal of their own, -appropriately entitled _On the Line_. One has only to glance through -its attractive pages to see that the Union is very much alive. -For those who are employed on railways temperance is certainly an -excellent thing, and there can be no doubt also that the safety of -the travelling public is helped not a little by the hard work of Mr. -Sawyer and his cheery comrades. - - - - -[Illustration: SCRIPTURE LESSONS FOR SCHOOL AND HOME - -INTERNATIONAL SERIES] - -With Illustrative Anecdotes and References. - - -=MARCH 19TH.--Christ the Good Shepherd.= - -_To read--St. John x. 1-16. Golden Text--Ver. 11._ - -Last lesson showed Christ as source of _light_--giving sight to the -eyes and heart of blind man; to-day's shows Him as "Love," the Good -Shepherd, giving His life for His sheep. - -I. =Christ the Door of the Fold= (1-10). _Connection_ with healing -of blind man. - -Pharisees were bad shepherds--he found the true. - -They drove him away--Christ the Good Shepherd took him into His fold. - -_Explanation_ of the different parts of the parable. - -The sheepfold--Christ's Church on earth (ver. 16). - -The door--Christ Himself, the only way to God. - -The sheep--the people of Christ (Ps. c. 2). - -The shepherds--God's ministers, feeding and leading the flock (1 -Pet. v. 2) in the right way. - -The porter--God's Spirit opening hearts to Christ. - -_Illustration_: Christ is as a Good Shepherd. How? - -He comes to the sheep in the fold. He calls by name, and goes before -to lead them. They recognise voice, trust Him, and follow. - -_Contrast_ between Christ and the Pharisees. They are robbers (St. -Matt. xxiii. 14, etc.), blind guides, hypocrites, leading men to -ruin. Now thirsting to kill Him. Christ is the way of salvation. -Thief _takes_ life; shepherds _protect_ life. He _gives_ life, here -and hereafter. - -_Application._ Whosoever believeth in Him shall have everlasting -life. - -II. =Christ the Good Shepherd= (11-16). _His name._ - -Good, _i.e._ beautiful, noble, loving. He is _perfect_ in contrast -with imperfect ministers; _true_ as opposed to false; _good_ as -giving His life. Mere hirelings desert the flock in danger. - -_His work._ Knows each intimately--cares for wants. Dies that they -may be saved. Seeks wanderers. Folds all safely in fold at last. - -=Lessons.= The privileges of Christ's flock. - -1. _Safety_ in the fold of His Church. - -2. _Succour_ in time of want and danger. - -3. _Sympathy._ They know Him, and He knows them. - - -=Christ the Door.= - -It is said that the ancient city of Troy had but one way of -entrance. In whatever direction the traveller went, he would find -no way into the city but the one which was legally appointed, and -the only one which was used by those who went in and out. There is -only one right way to the favour of God, to the family of God, to -the presence of God in prayer, and, finally, to the City of God in -eternity, and that one way is Christ. "I am the way," He declares, -"and no man cometh unto the Father but by Me." - - -MARCH 26TH.--Review Lesson. - -_Golden Text--St. John x. 27._ - -Christ's divine nature been seen in twelve lessons with the results -ensuing therefrom. - -I. =True Light= (i. 1-14). Showing Father's eternal glory, power, -wisdom. Dwelling as man among men to lighten their souls. - -II. =First Disciples= (i. 29-42). Divinity testified by God's voice -at His baptism. Faith shown by new disciples who saw Lamb of God. - -III. =First Miracle= (ii. 1-11). Divinity shown by almighty power -and glory in sympathy. - -IV. =First Convert= (iii. 1-17). Christ as Teacher unfolds divine -mysteries. He knows for He has seen. Nicodemus, a Pharisee, believes. - -V. =First Samaritan= (iv. 5-26). Divinity shown by omniscience. -Gives water of life. Samaritan woman and others believe. - -VI. =First Child= (iv. 46-54). Christ gives fresh life to sick -child. Nobleman believes. - -VII. =Christ's Authority= (v. 17-29). Shares Father's counsels. -Appointed Judge. All men honour Him. - -VIII. =Multitude Fed= (vi. 1-14). He Who made world, supplies His -people's wants. As God, He multiplies food; as Man, cares for and -sympathises. - -IX. =Feast of Tabernacles= (vii. 14, 28-39). Christ as God, gives -life, also refreshment (like water) to soul by Holy Ghost. Thus, -Three Persons in Godhead share work of man's salvation. - -X. =Freeing from Sin= (viii. 13, 31-36). Divine power alone can free -from bondage of sin and Satan. This Christ gives. Many believed on -Him. - -XI. =Healing Blind= (ix. 1-11). Christ's divine light opens eyes and -heart. Blind man saved. - -XII. =Good Shepherd=. Christ, Himself God, the way to God. Gives -life by laying down His life. One fold, one flock, one Shepherd. - -=Lessons=. 1. Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. - -2. No man cometh to the Father but by Me. - -3. Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief. - - -Christ, Lord of All. - - During the last moments of a godly woman, speech had left her; - but she managed to articulate the word "Bring." Her friends, in - ignorance of her meaning, offered her food, but she shook her - head, and again repeated the word "Bring." Thinking she desired - to see some absent friends, they brought them to her; but again - she shook her head; and then, by a great effort, she succeeded - in completing the sentence-- - - "Bring forth the royal diadem, - And crown Him Lord of all"-- - - and then passed away to be with Jesus. - - -APRIL 2ND.--Raising of Lazarus. - -_To read--St. John xi. 32-45. Golden Text--Ver. 25._ - -Gospel began with miracle at joyful family gathering. To-day's -lesson tells of sad gathering of family and friends at a funeral. He -would again show divine power. - -I. =Death Triumphant= (32-37). _Scene of sorrow_ at Bethany, two -miles from Jerusalem. Little family, Lazarus and two sisters. Had -received Christ before (St. Luke x. 38). Now the breadwinner has -been taken ill and dies. Sickness, death, bereavement, all causes -of sorrow and sadness. Had sent for Christ, but He had delayed to -come (ver. 6). At last He arrives, but body had been buried. Martha -meets Him first (ver. 21), then Mary. Both utter same reproach--had -He been in time, their brother need not have died. Their faith weak. -Thought of Him as Good Physician--did not fully realise His almighty -power. How did this affect Christ? He was troubled, He sighed, He -wept. His best friends not yet learned Who He was and what His -power. To them sorrow, suffering, death, seemed to have triumphed. -Was it so? - -II. =Death Vanquished= (38-44). _Scene of joy._ A Conqueror of -death is there. See actions of the different people. _Christ_ -commands removal of stone. _Martha_ remonstrates--the body begun -to corrupt--four days dead (no coffin, only wrapped in linen). -Showed unbelief, after Christ's words (ver. 23). _Mary_ watches in -silence, trusting in Christ to do right. _Jews_, expectant, roll -away the stone as bidden. Then Christ speaks; thanks God for hearing -His prayer; cries aloud to Lazarus. The dead man comes forth, is -released from grave-clothes, and restored to his home. Death is -swallowed up in victory. - -_Result._ Many of the Jews believed. God's glory is manifested. - -=Lessons.= 1. _Christ a loving Friend._ Can be touched with the -feeling of our infirmities. - -2. _Christ a living Saviour._ Taught Martha, comforted Mary, -restored Lazarus. Gives eternal life. - - -Faithful unto Death - - In the excavations made at the buried city of Pompeii, the - remains of a Roman soldier were found at one of the gates. - Embedded in the once molten lava which swept down upon the - doomed city was found the skeleton of the soldier whose post - of duty was at the gate, still grasping a sword in its bony - fingers. When the panic came upon the city, and those who could - made good their escape, he had remained faithful to his sense - of duty, and with resolute courage faced a fearful death. The - Christian soldier can face death with equal courage, for he has - obtained victory over sin and death through Jesus Christ his - Lord. - - -APRIL 9TH.--The Anointing in Bethany. - -_To read--St. John xii. 1-11. Golden Text--St. Mark xiv. 8._ - -Christ again at Bethany, preparing for His sufferings and death. -Chief priests and Pharisees took counsel to kill Him (xi. 53). His -friends gather in numbers to give Him a public welcome. - -I. =Christ's Friends= (1-3, 7-9). _The feast._ Took place at -Bethany, at house of Simon, once a leper. The family of Bethany -all present--showed their regard for Christ in different ways. -_Lazarus_, honoured guest, at the table with Him. _Martha_ giving of -her skill in house-keeping (St. Luke x. 38). _Mary_ giving a costly -present. - -_The anointing._ Mary comes behind Christ--having fetched an -alabaster box full of precious ointment--breaks the box, pours it -on His head (St. Mark xiv. 3) and His feet (ver. 3), wiping them -with her hair. The house is filled with sweet smell. Why did she do -this? _It was an act of love._ Christ had done much for them--stayed -with them, above all restored their brother to life. Another -reason: Christ had lately spoken of His death as soon coming. This -thought quickened her love to intensity. She must give it outward -expression. She had kept it for His burial (ver. 7), but gives it -now. _It was an act of self-denial._ Did not stay to count the cost, -to think how little she need give. Gave the best gift she had. Would -keep back nothing from Him. _The act was approved and accepted._ She -did what she could. - -=Lessons.= 1. Christ's death draws men's hearts (xii. 32). Therefore -send the Gospel to all. - -2. True love delights in self-denial. Deny self, take up cross and -follow Christ. - -3. Offerings accepted by God. Alms as well as prayers come before -Him (Acts x. 4). - -II. =Christ's Enemies= (4-6, 10, 11). _Judas_ grudges the -gift--calls it waste--professes zeal for the poor. What was his real -motive? Covetousness. Had been made treasurer of monies given to -and spent by Christ and apostles. Hoped to get something out of it -for himself. Was it waste? Gifts given to Christ cannot be wasted. -Others will take note and copy. This loving gift has led multitudes -to do what they can. Missionaries to give up lives for Christ, many -to give money, work, service, etc. Even cup of water only given for -His sake rewarded. - -_Chief priests._ Consult out of envy to kill Lazarus. His rising led -many to believe in Christ. Their power became less. - -=Lesson.= Take heed, and beware of covetousness. - -Which are we: friends or foes of Christ? - - -Give the Best you have to God. - - It matters not how poor the offering, if given in the right - spirit. A legend tells how once a little boy in church had no - money to place among the offerings. So he gave a rosy apple, the - only gift he had it in his power to offer. Presently, when the - alms were removed, there was found among them an apple of gold. - The simplest gift is in the sight of God as pure gold. - - - - -[Illustration: SHORT ARROWS - -Notes of Christian Life & Work] - - -Our New Waifs. - -In accordance with the announcement in our December number, we left -it entirely to our readers to select the new QUIVER waifs. -All the votes have now been received, and arranged, with the result -that Rose Heelis heads the list of the candidates for Miss Sharman's -Orphan Home, whilst John Harrison is the successful candidate for -Dr. Barnardo's Home. - -[Illustration: JOHN HARRISON. - -(_The new Quiver Waif at Dr. Barnardo's Home._)] - -Our readers will doubtless be interested in the portrait of each -to be found on this page, but it is unnecessary to repeat the -particulars concerning these little ones which were given at the -time we invited the votes. The support of the new waifs will involve -a total annual expenditure of L31 (L15 for Rose Heelis and L16 -for John Harrison), and for this amount we are relying upon the -generosity of our readers. Contributions to the special Waifs' Fund -will be gladly received, and duly acknowledged month by month in -our pages. Such contributions should be addressed to the Editor of -THE QUIVER, La Belle Sauvage, Ludgate Hill, London, E.C. A -list of the donations to the fund during the month of January will -be found on page 480. - - -Stooping to Conquer. - -A peculiar feature connected with the Ancient and Honourable -Artillery Company of Boston is that each officer, at the end of -his term of command, which lasts a year, returns to the ranks as -a private; thus there are something like a score of gentlemen who -have had full control of the regiment, and who are now once more -content to obey. Here is a lesson for those who serve in the Church -Militant. We cannot all be colonels and generals--there must be a -few private soldiers!--and it is certain that he who cannot obey -is not fit to command. Much energy and temper is wasted by those -who fight against sin and sorrow through unwillingness to take what -is called a subordinate position. Surely this is to forget the -Saviour's words--"If any man desire to be first, the same shall be -last of all, and servant of all." - -[Illustration: ROSE HEELIS. - -(_The new Quiver Waif at Miss Sharman's Home._)] - - -The "Welcome." - -Sixteen years ago, the first restaurant for women in the City of -London was started at 16, Jewin Street. The "Welcome" was opened in -a five-storeyed house in the very midst of factories. It is now the -centre of help of every kind for a class brought before the public -in Sir Walter Besant's "Children of Gibeon." Hundreds of women -frequent this place to refresh their jaded and chilled bodies with -soup and bread at three halfpence or excellent meat-puddings at -twopence. In cases of distress and starvation free dinner tickets -are granted. Who can tell how many women this aid has saved from -crime when hunger has driven them to the verge of stealing? The -work of the "Welcome" is not limited to care for the bodies of City -toilers. Three rooms are used for dinner and tea, three others for -evening classes of various kinds. From six to half-past nine clubs, -musical drill, sewing and improvement classes, services of song, -missionary or Gospel temperance meetings, attract an attendance -averaging from 270 to 300. The largest number come on Thursday -evening, which is devoted to Bible classes. To many whose days are -spent in hot workrooms the shady gardens lent on Saturdays by kind -friends are like a new world. One girl asked if she could see the -strawberry trees; another, why the bunches of grapes were tied to -the top of glass-houses. The revelation of a new world outside their -own limited sphere helps to raise the ambition to live a new and -higher life. - -[Illustration: (_Photo: Cassell and Co., Ltd._) - -IN THE "WELCOME" CLUB AT MIDDAY.] - - -"Nobody's Own." - -Many regiments in the British army are called after and said to be -owned by this or that prince or princess. There is "The Princess of -Wales's Own," "Princess Charlotte's Own," and so on. One regiment, -however, rejoices in the nickname of "Nobody's Own," because it -is not named after anybody. It is a grand thing to think that no -Christian can be called "Nobody's Own," for we are all called after -Christ and owned by our Father in heaven. - - -New Books. - -Elsewhere in this number will be found an illustrated article on -"Childish Memories of Lewis Carroll," and we venture to think that -readers of those reminiscences will require no pressing to turn to -the biography of this universally favourite author, just published -by Mr. Fisher Unwin under the title "The Life and Letters of Lewis -Carroll." Mr. S. D. Collingwood, who is responsible for the work, -frankly admits that it is impossible to give a really adequate -presentation of the extraordinarily complex character of his late -uncle. He has, however, produced a most able and interesting sketch, -which includes many characteristic letters, and is profusely -illustrated. Quite a different life-story is also before us in -the form of the Rev. George Adam Smith's biography of his friend, -the late Professor Henry Drummond (Hodder and Stoughton). No one -could lay down this book without feeling that Drummond was in every -sense a great man--with a great intellect, a great heart, and a -constant, burning desire to be about his Father's business. It is -true that he made mistakes, that he put forth certain theories not -generally acceptable, and which he himself modified in later years, -but throughout his life his honesty of purpose was unquestionable. -His influence and power as a preacher and teacher were remarkable, -and many of those whom he reached through his addresses and books -will feel indebted to Dr. Smith for this critical and comprehensive -story of his life.--From Messrs. Smith, Elder and Company comes a -new story from our own contributor, Katharine Tynan, entitled "The -Dear Irish Girl," of which we need say no more than that it is the -love story of a most winning Irish lassie, written in the bright, -entertaining style so well-known to our readers.--"Helps to Godly -Living" (Elliot Stock) is the happy title of an excellent little -work which consists of helpful and comforting extracts from the -writings and addresses of the present Archbishop of Canterbury, -selected and arranged by the Rev. J. H. Burn, B.D.--A pathetic -interest attaches to the two dainty volumes of poems by the late -Dr. J. R. Macduff, entitled "Matin and Vesper Bells" (Cassell), in -that the author did not live to see their completion. Many of the -poems have been already published independently in various forms, -but we believe that this collected edition of Dr. Macduff's tender -and inspiring verse will be heartily welcomed.--We have also to -acknowledge the receipt of a tastefully produced volume entitled -"The More Excellent Way" (Henry Frowde), in which the Hon. Mrs. -Lyttelton Gell has carefully arranged the choicest extracts from -the works of ancient and modern authors on "The Life of Love"; a -collection of addresses on the Beatitudes by the Rev. J. R. Miller, -D.D., entitled "The Master's Blesseds" (Hodder and Stoughton); an -interesting and instructive work on medical missionary work amongst -the blind in India, entitled "They Shall See His Face" (Bocardo -Press, Oxford); "Aids to Belief" (Elliot Stock), a series of studies -on the divine origin of Christianity by the Rev. W. H. Langthorne; -and a volume of sermons by the late Charles H. Spurgeon, which have -been published by Messrs. Passmore and Alabaster under the title -"The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit." - - -A Wolf-Boy. - -[Illustration: (_Photo supplied by the Missionary Leaves Association._) - - AS A BOY. THE WOLF-BOY OF SECUNDRA. AS A MAN.] - -What was to be done with such a boy! The magistrate sahib of -Bulandshahr had heard of Romulus and Remus, but rational people -rejected the legend of their infancy. Yet here was a child of five -or six years of age, crawling on the ground before him, and the -statement of several witnesses that he had been smoked out of a -wolf's den could not be disputed. These men were natives of India. -Whilst travelling in a jungle of the Bulandshahr district, they -saw a queer though undoubted specimen of humanity crawl into a -hole. By the magistrate's order a fire was lighted at the mouth. -Out sprang a snarling and indignant mother-wolf, which, after -scattering the bystanders, fled for life. Behind her ran on all -fours a little boy, who was speedily secured and conveyed to the -magistrate. He was imbecile. He would eat no food but raw meat, -and he tore any clothing placed on him into shreds. The magistrate -sent him to the Church Missionary Orphanage at Secundra, a refuge -for between four and five hundred children, nearly all infants -picked up in the streets or by the roadside. There this child, -who was found on Saturday, February 4th, 1867, grew up into -manhood. On the same principle that Robinson Crusoe called his man -Friday, the wolf-boy was named Sanichar, or Saturday. By degrees -a certain amount of intelligence and a decided religious instinct -developed. He became gentle and sociable, and ready with cheerful -unselfishness to share the many little presents he received with -his companions. He attached himself with great affection to one of -the caretakers. On the death of this man, Sanichar in dumb sorrow -and bewilderment looked from one to another of his friends for an -explanation. They pointed to the grave, and then to the sky. The -boy was deeply impressed, and ever afterwards, if he felt ill, he -would feign sleep, and point first to the ground and then to the -sky. He never learnt to speak, but perhaps he was trying to convey -the impression that he looked forward to following his dear friend. -Two other wolf-boys and one wolf-girl were brought to the Secundra -orphanage, but they died soon afterwards. Whether they had been cast -out by their parents or kidnapped by the inveterate robber-wolves -of the district could not be discovered. They were a witness that -tenderness, too often lost in heathenism, may be found in one of -the most rapacious beasts. With hundreds of little outcasts under -Christian care, they tell of a Father above who remembers even -though parents may forget their children. - -[Illustration: THE LOCKHART MEMORIAL. - -(_In Lewisham Congregational Church._)] - - -Memorial to a Medical Missionary. - -Medical missions have come into deservedly increasing prominence of -late years; and a few months ago a beautiful tablet was erected in -Lewisham Congregational Church to the memory of Dr. Lockhart, the -first Protestant medical missionary to China, who went out about the -year 1838. The tablet is a beautiful piece of work in alabaster and -marble, and is carved in the form of a triptych, _i.e._ in three -panels, the medallion portrait occupying the centre. On the left -hand panel appears the following inscription:--"In affectionate -memory of Dr. Lockhart, first medical missionary to China, founder -of hospitals at Macao, Shanghai and Pekin, who served the London -Missionary Society with untiring zeal for twenty-six years in the -mission field, and with unabated devotion in England to the last -day of his life. Member of this church for thirty-seven years. -Deacon and Church Secretary. Born October 3rd, 1811. Died April -29th, 1896." The following inscription appears on the right hand -panel:--"This memorial is erected by those who admired him as a -strong man, loved him as a friend, hold his services in grateful -memory, and who pray that his zeal for missions and his devotion -to the Church may inspire all who shall ever worship within these -walls." The tablet is placed on the wall of the church near the -vestry door, where Dr. Lockhart used often to stand before the -service, watching the people enter. - - -Self-control. - -A man who lately came over from America told the writer that on -board the steamer one of the passengers went up to another in the -smoking-room and asked him to have a drink with him. The man thus -invited continued reading a newspaper and made no reply. The other -man again asked him to drink with him. No answer again. A third -invitation was then given in these words: "Sir, I have asked you in -as friendly a way as possible to drink with me, and each time you -went on with your reading, and had not the civility to answer me. -Now I ask you for the third time if you will drink wine, whisky, -or anything else with me?" The man then put aside his paper and -answered very quietly: "Do you see that glass, sir? Well, if I were -to take even a quarter of it, I could not leave off until I had -drunk all the liquor on board. This is why I would not drink with -you." All present admired the man's self-control, and learned a -striking lesson on the danger of putting temptation in a brother's -way. - - -An Ever-Recurring Question. - -Two friends of the writer were sitting in a close carriage, -discussing the problems of life--where we came from and whither we -are going. The driver of the carriage went rather too near another -vehicle. "Where are you going to?" shouted the driver of the latter. -The occupants of the carriage looked at each other and remarked, -"That is just what we were wanting to know." So it is that the great -problems of life cannot be ignored, for they are reflected in the -small incidents of daily existence. Particularly is this the case -with the question whence we came and whither we are going. This can -never be shelved. - - -The Circulation of the Bible. - -Few people have any idea of the enormous number of Bibles published -annually in this country. Mere figures of so many millions mean -little to most folks. But it may give some more adequate idea of -the vast number to put it as follows: The British and Foreign Bible -Society, of Queen Victoria Street, alone publish above a million -and a half of Bibles every year, or more than 4,100 every day. Now, -if each of these 4,100 Bibles was of the average thickness of one -and a half inches, they would, if piled upon one another, reach to -a height of 6,159 inches. As the top of St. Paul's cross is about -364 feet or so above the level of St. Paul's Churchyard, this huge -pile of Bibles would reach to a height nearly one and a half times -as great as the top of the famous cross! Or we might represent the -whole lot by one immense Bible, which would be 66 feet by 47 feet by -14 feet, and would reach from the steps leading to St. Paul's right -to the top of the pillars there! And this would but represent the -output for a single day of only one of the great Bible circulating -mediums of this country! - -[Illustration: A BIBLE 66 FT. BY 47 FT. BY 14 FT. - -(_Representing one day's output of the British and Foreign Bible -Society._)] - - - - -_OUR INTERNATIONAL LEAGUE OF PEACE._ - - -We are glad to be able to report that requests for forms are -steadily being received, and a goodly number have been returned -filled with signatures. To those of our readers who are striving -to obtain the distinction of being the first to send in a thousand -names (for which a prize of Ten Pounds is offered) we would say that -it is not necessary for all the signatures to be given together. -They should be forwarded in batches of fifty or a hundred, and -credit will be given for every name so sent. The following letter -which we have received from a correspondent at Birmingham is of -interest, as it emphasises the fact that the Ten Pounds we offer -will not only act as an incentive to activities on behalf of -peace, but may also at the same time benefit some local charity. -"Please send me," the correspondent writes, "some sheets of the -International League of Peace. If I am fortunate enough to get the -Ten Pounds, I am going to give it to some good society--whichever -our clergyman thinks best. Trusting to hear from you by return." - -The following is the form in which our memorial has been issued:-- - - "=We, the undersigned, desire to express our earnest sympathy - with the peace proposals contained in the recent Rescript of his - Imperial Majesty the Czar of Russia, and hereby authorise the - attachment of our names to any international Memorial having for - its object the promotion of Universal Peace upon a Christian - basis.=" - -This may be copied at the head of blank sheets of paper, and the -signatures placed beneath; but we shall be very pleased to send -(post free) any number of printed forms on receipt of an application -addressed to the Editor of THE QUIVER, La Belle Sauvage, -London, E.C. - -The objects of our League have already been endorsed, amongst other -prominent men, by the =Lord Bishop of London=, the =Rev. Hugh -Price Hughes= (President of the Wesleyan Conference), the =Rev. -Samuel Vincent= (President of the Baptist Union of Great Britain -and Ireland), and =Pastor Thomas Spurgeon= of the Metropolitan -Tabernacle. - - -THE QUIVER FUNDS. - -The following is a list of contributions received from January 1st, -1899, up to and including January 31st, 1899. Subscriptions received -after this date will be acknowledged next month:-- - - For "_The Quiver_" _Waifs' Fund_: R. Hutchinson, Boston Spa, 2s. - 6d.; Readers of _The Christian_, per Morgan and Scott, L5; Miss - Renee Benson, Grenoble, 1s. 6d.; J.J.E., Govan (134th donation), - 5s.; A Glasgow Mother (104th donation), 1s.; E.A., 2s. 6d.; - R.S., Crouch End, 5s. - - For _Dr. Barnardo's Homes_: A Scotch Lassie, 5s.; Baby George, - 2s. 6d.; J.R., 5s.; E.H., Devon, 2s.; Gertie, Finsbury Park. - 3s.; M.A.C, 5s., An Irish Girl, 10s. 6d.; Madame Scaravaglione, - 10s.; A.K., 5s.; A Warwickshire Lass, 5s.; Anon., 2s. The - following amounts have been sent direct:--R.H.B.P., 4s.; A.H., - 10s; M.M.Q., L5; E.A.H., 7s. 6d.; A.W.O., 4s.; M. M., 5s.; - M.E.B., 15s.; J H.W., 5s.; "Inasmuch," 6s.; T.P., Leamington, L1. - - For _The Children's Country Holiday Fund_: Madame Scaravaglione, - 10s.; J. and E.H., L1. - - For _Miss Weston's Homes, Portsmouth_: J. and E.H., L1. - - For _The Robin Dinners_: Alice Bishop, 3s. - - For _St. Mark's Hospital, City Road, E.C._: A Thank-offering, 1s. - - The Superintendent of the St. Giles Christian Mission asks us - to acknowledge the receipt of a parcel of clothing from Oakham, - Rutland. - - -OUR FINE ART PLATES. - -Doubtless many of our readers are interested in the announcement -which has been appearing for several months past on our wrapper to -the effect that certain coupons will entitle the holder to receive a -set of Fine Art Plates for a trifling sum. We desire to supplement -that announcement by stating that the pictures will be of sacred -subjects, and will, moreover, be printed on specially prepared -plate paper in order to obtain the best possible results. The -selected paintings are by Lord Leighton, Sir John Millais, Edward -Armitage, R.A., Ford Madox Brown, W. C. T. Dobson, R.A., and William -Dyce, R.A., and the series will form an admirable selection of the -best-known works of these famous artists--well worthy of a permanent -place in every home. - - -ROLL OF HONOUR FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL WORKERS. - -The =Special Silver Medal= and =Presentation Bible= offered for the -longest known Sunday-school service in the county of =Durham= (for -which applications were invited up to January 31st, 1899) have been -gained by - - MR. JOHN J. BAILEY, - Newgate Street, Barnard Castle, - -who has distinguished himself by _fifty-six_ years' service, -principally in the Sunday School of the Barnard Castle Parish Church. - -As already announced, the next territorial county for which claims -are invited for the _Silver_ Medal is - - DEVONSHIRE, - -and applications, on the special form, must be received on or before -February 28th, 1899. We may add that =Kent= is the following county -selected, the date-limit for claims in that case being March 30th, -1899. This county, in its turn, will be followed by the territorial -county of =Cheshire=, for which the date will be one month -later--viz. April 30th, 1899. - -The names of members recently enrolled will be found in our -advertisement pages. - - - - -THE QUIVER BIBLE CLASS. - -(BASED ON THE INTERNATIONAL SCRIPTURE LESSONS.) - - -QUESTIONS. - -49. From what parable of our Lord do we gather that the sheepfolds -in ancient times were large and surrounded by a high fence? - -50. By what illustration does our Lord teach us that it is through -Him alone we can be saved? Quote passage. - -51. In what way does our Lord contrast His care of His people with -the neglect shown by the Jewish teachers? - -52. Quote passage which shows that Jesus had never attended any of -the public Jewish schools? - -53. In what words does our Lord speak of the Scriptures as God's -revelation of Himself to man? - -54. What were the two miracles performed by our Lord at Cana of -Galilee? - -55. What was especially remarkable in the miracle of raising Lazarus -from the dead? - -56. What reason did our Lord give for His delay in going to Lazarus -when he was ill? - -57. What was the effect of the miracle of raising Lazarus? - -58. What reason have we for supposing that Simon the Leper was the -husband of Martha, the sister of Lazarus? - -59. What information does St. John give as to the character of Judas -Iscariot? - -60. What prophecy concerning our Lord was delivered by Caiaphas, the -High Priest? - - -ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 383. - -37. In a desert (or uninhabited) place near Bethsaida on the -north-west side of the Sea of Galilee (St. Luke ix. 10). - -38. It was known as the Sea of Chinnereth (Numb. xxxiv. 11; Josh. -xii. 3). - -39. Because St. Philip was a native of the district of Bethsaida -(St. John i. 44, and vi. 5). - -10. The Jews thought that Jesus was the son of Joseph the carpenter, -and born in Galilee; whereas they had been taught that no one would -know of the birthplace or parentage of the Messiah (St. John vii. -27, 41; St. Luke iv. 22). - -41. They sent officers to arrest Jesus (St. John vii. 2, 32). - -42. Because on the last day of the Feast special sacrifices were -offered for all Israel, and the priest, having taken water from the -Pool of Siloam, poured it upon the altar (St. John vii. 37). - -43. Because they understood that, as the "Light of the World," Jesus -claimed to be the Messiah (St. John viii. 12; Isaiah ix. 2, and lx. -1). - -44. "When ye have lifted up the Son of Man" (St. John viii. 28). - -45. Jesus appears to have made the Jews unable to see Him, and so -passed out of the Temple, going through the midst of them (St. John -viii. 59; 2 Kings vi. 18). - -46. That the disciples believed in the doctrine of "transmigration -of souls," which was taught by the Jewish Rabbis at that time (St. -John ix. 2; Josephus, "Ant." xviii. ch. 1, sec. 3). - -47. By telling him to go and wash in the Pool of Siloam (St. John -ix. 7). - -48. The Jews excommunicated the man whose sight Jesus had -restored--that is, they shut him out of the synagogue--thus -depriving him of all religious privileges (St. John ix. 22, 34). - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - -Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. -Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as -printed. - -Missing page numbers are page numbers that were not shown in the -original text. - -The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up -paragraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match -the page number in the List of Illustrations. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUIVER, 2/1900*** - - -******* This file should be named 43642.txt or 43642.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/3/6/4/43642 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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