ness is immortal. Death hath no dominion over it. The good deed of the woman who anointed the feet of Jesus is known wherever the gospel of the kingdom is preached. Shakspere says, "The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones." It is not so; goodness is immortal. The righteous shall be held in everlasting remembrance. Many are mistaking the way to fame. They try the senate, the bar, the arena of literature, the battle-field; but all the fame they win is like a meteor that flashes athwart the sky for a few moments and is then lost. The best and only way to true and everlasting fame is the way of goodness, the way of beneficence, the way of integrity, the way of truth and love. "Hasten to the goal of fame between the posts of duty." Living for self is the way to ignominy, misery, and oblivion. Living for God and goodness is way to honour, and glory, and blessedness. "He that loveth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall keep it unto life eternal." the The coats and tunics made by Dorcas represented so much thought, so much Christian love and Christian energy. In the same way, let us throw ourselves into our work; let all we do have the heart in it, and then it will last. Do good, not that men may speak well of you or praise you, but because love demands such an expression of itself. And then, when you die, you will be missed. So live that, when you are gone, men will miss you. Let your life be high in its tone, high in its aims, high in its ambitions. And at last, as Christ said of Lazarus, He will say concerning us, "I go to wake them out of their sleep." And so we shall be for ever with the Lord. The cup of cold water will be given back in the wine of the kingdom. The cloaks given to the poor will be given back in white and spotless robes, with the gladdening benison of the Judge, "I was naked, and ye clothed me; enter ye into the joy of your Lord." THE EMPEROR, THE GENERAL, AND THE BAND. FOR THE YOUNG. "It's An "Now," said Carl Carl was said Pierre, quite loftily. Caspar's elder brother-" if we only easy when you know how! had somebody, or something, to army, you know, always finds pitch into. I wonder what folks plenty of things to get into battle fight for anyhow, in real grown-up about, and I'll be general." wars. 66 Fight for something they can't get without fighting for it," said Pierre, " and I say, let's get up a war." "But how can we ? questioned Caspar, with eyes wide open with wonder at the superior wisdom of their French neighbour. "We'll just make up an army," "And I'll be the emperor, and my general must obey me," returned Carl. "And I'll be the band and carry the flag," said Caspar; and immediately the army was organised. Out marched emperor, general, and standard-bearer to find a cause in which to do battle. School was over for the day, and the day was in midsummer, and the summer was over sunny France, and the river Rhine, and the small village on the river's bank. "Hold on! What's the matter here?" cried Emperor Carl. "It's none of your business," was the reply from one of the two lads. The brave army of three marched "Oh, please, won't you please not solemnly and stiffly through the to let 'em do it?" pleaded the little village street, but there they found girl, making desperate clutches no cause for war. Every villager meanwhile at the basket. seemed to be intent on his own "What's in it, anyhow? affairs, and to be letting his neigh-manded the trumpeter, planting his bour attend to his. standard and looking immensely heroic. The vine-dressers were at work in the vineyards, and not one of them could be heard speaking roughly to his fellow-labourer. "Bless me!" said Emperor Carl. "I reckon we shall have to pick a quarrel somewhere." ""Tisn't becoming in me, but I should like to shy a rock at those fellows over yonder," said General Pierre. 66 de 'My pussy-cat, and they're going to drown it," replied the girl. "No, they're not," cried the emperor. "I'd like to know why not," demanded a stout French lad, slightly taller than Pierre. "Who's going to prevent us ? " "I am," announced Pierre. General "The army will fight for it," said Caspar, waving his flag. "Don't!" cried Caspar."I'll shake my flag at 'em and give 'em a stirring blast with my horn. I'll toot "It's cause for war!" cried emit like anything, and presently peror and general and trumpeter the yellow handkerchief fluttered in one breath, making a rush for on high, and the sound of the horn the basket, and capturing it. was heard in the land, but yonder lads turned not to the right or the left, but kept right on for the riverbank beyond the vineyards. "March, march! till we overtake them," ordered General Pierre, and the army advanced with speed. "Halt! halt!" cried Emperor Carl, when the foe was within hearing, but they didn't halt the least mite in the world. "Run! run!" shouted the general, and the army dashed on in pursuit, and came up with the foe near the river's brink. The foe consisted of two boys and a girl. The girl was crying bitterly, and begging the boys not to do it, and the boys were saying very stoutly that they would do it; and meanwhile a big basket was getting borne along between them, the girl trying her best to hold it back, and the boys tugging it forward. From the basket came pitiful cries of fright and distress. Then followed a sharp little battle, in which encounter the stout cord with which the cover was bound down gave way, and pussycat made a rush for life and liberty. The foe, all but the little girl, rushed after the cat, and the army pursued the foe to the very brink of the Rhine, and came up just in time to see the stout French lad toss poor pussy-cat into the river. General Pierre paused an instant, and then, like the brave general that he was, let himself down to the water's edge, and waded in after the cat. When he returned to the shore in triumph with the dripping, trembling cat in his arms, he dropped her quickly into the outstretched apron of the little girl, saying, "Run away now with her, as fast as you can. War isn't a good place for little girls to be in." "Don't let 'em come after me," she cried, disappearing as fast as her feet could take her away. "Now, if you want to fight for it, we're ready," said Emperor Carl. "And we'll beat you," said General Pierre. "And take you prisoners and carry you off," said Caspar, with a tremendous toot on his horn, and immediately the army fell to work. In three minutes the foe was beaten, one of them was handcuffed with his own necktie, and the other one followed at a respectful distance, to see the spot where the army would carry his comrade. "We must'nt lead him through the village street," said the emperor, "for his father may be there." "And," said the general," another army might be raised." And thus, unobserved and unhindered, the conquering army has come to the home of Carl and Caspar. The poor prisoner has a far from happy expression on his countenance as General Pierre pulls his ear, by way of reminder that he is defenceless. The band having uttered a few stirring notes, Mother Stauffer has been disturbed from her afternoon nap, and comes upon the scene at the instant when the prisoner's ear is getting pulled, and Emperor Carl is thrusting back from the door the other one of the foe. Mother Stauffer had a good, long, comforting cry all by herself before she fell asleep, and her eyes are still very red, but they take in at a glance the state of affairs. I did not tell you why Mother Stauffer cried. It was because that very morning her husband, Caspar Stauffer, had marched away to the real war, leaving his wife and children to live without him for days and weeks, and perhaps for ever. The general clutched at the prisoner, and thus Mother Stauffer had command of both armies safely shut up within doors. "Now I want to know what this all means!" she exclaimed. "We went to war, Mrs. Stauffer," spoke up Pierre. "And fought for the life of a pussy-cat," said the band, very humbly. "And saved it too, mother," said the emperor. One of the foe hung his head, and the other did not dare to raise his eyes to the face of Mrs. Stauffer, and both of the lads felt heartily ashamed, and wanted to run away, but the good woman held them fast, saying, "Now, my boys, why did you wish to hurt the cat?" "Just to plague Hester Berger," said one. And the old cat's good for nothing," said the other. "What are you good for?" asked Mrs. Stauffer. The boys looked at her in astonishment. "We aren't cats," murmured one. "No, but the same God that made you made that cat, and the poor kitty has just the same right to her life that you have to yours, and she thinks just as much of her life as you can of yours. Suppose that, as you go home to-night, some wicked men should meet you and say, 'Here, just to plague the mothers, we'll toss these little boys into the Rhine; they are good for nothing, any way,' and over you go. What then?" "But that would be murder, and somebody would find it out and hang them," said one of the foe. 66 Ah, my lads, do you think that God does not find it out and will not punish you, if man does not, for cruelty to the smallest one of the creatures that He has seen fit to make? Man has not made laws against the murder of cats, but God has, and you may be sure that He will find you out, and punish you| too." "I'll never do it again, never," said one of the boys. "I didn't suppose that God cared for cats.” And as the foe opened the door to go, there stood little Hester Berger, who had at a safe distance followed on, to be certain that her enemies did not get too much punish ment. "Oh!" cried Hester, grasping her cat yet more tightly. "You needn't be afraid, Hester Berger; we don't drown cats after this," said the elder tormentor. "Nor plague you," added the other, with a secret shiver at the thought of being dumped suddenly into the Rhine. Then the foe departed; Hester and the cat went home; the army disbanded and went to supper and to bed; and the little village on the Rhine slept soundly all that night. CONVERTED SLIGHTLY. SPEAKING one day of a person who had been indulging in worldly pleasures, and going in the path of fashion and folly, an inquirer asked one who knew her, "Wasn't she ever converted? ' 66 'Slightly," replied the old man, and his look and manner embodied meaning enough to fill a volume. There are multitudes of these people who have been converted "slightly." Their conversion was a matter of opinion, emotion, fashion, or form. They have never known those hearty convictions of sin which are wrought within by the Holy Ghost; nor have they known the searching energy of that living Word which is quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword, discerning the thoughts and intents of the heart. They have never known that godly sorrow which worketh repentance, nor have they known the consolations of that grace which makes glad the hearts of the redeemed. They know little of conflict, and less of victory; little of trial, and less of triumph; little of the anguish of a broken heart, and less of the joy of God's salvation, restored to those that seek it. The Church is infested with slightly converted people. The door has been opened wide to take them in; their conversion has made no perceptible change in their lives, and it is fair to suppose that it has made little change in their hearts. They give slight evidence of being new creatures, hence it is questionable whether they are "in Christ or not; they are still conformed to this world, having never been transformed by the renewing of their minds, to prove "what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God." They fill places in the Church; they mingle in all the worldly enjoyments which are introduced within its doors, to the great detriment of its spiritual life. They also manifest the ordinary worldly characteristics which distinguished them before they ever named the name of Christ; pride, ambition, greediness of gain, the desire to be greatest, lust for authority and leadership based upon wealth instead of worth, upon gold instead of grace-these are some of the marks of those whose conversion is slight, and whose lives bear witness to the fact. There will be terrible disappointments in that Great Day, when vast piles of "wood, hay, and stubble" which have been heaped together by the art and craft and sleight of men, shall be swept away as with the besom of destruction, and devoured in the quenchless flames of the wrath of God. What a terrible winnowing and sifting will then occur! How many who have been converted slightly, and found their way into the Church of Christ, will be weighed in the balances and found wanting then! It is better for us to known the worst at once. "The law of the Lord is perfect converting the soul." Let that law be proclaimed; let the Gospel of the grace of God be preached in all its purity and power; let the solemn and eternal verities of revelation be poured upon the ears of dying men; let them be taught their utter ruin by nature, and their full salvation by grace; and let nothing be accepted but hearty, earnest, and sincere repentance, and bringing forth of good fruits, which shall ensure their escape when the axe is laid at the root of the tree, and the fruitless cumberer is cut down and cast into the unquenchable fire. Beware of slight conversions. Let the wound be probed to the bottom; let the leprosy of sin be exposed in all its foulness; let men know their guilt, their ruin and their helplessness; and then sound in their ears the glad tidings of mercy free as heaven, of pardon and cleansing from every sin and stain. Beware of the curse that fell upon Israel, of whose prophets and whose priests Jeremiah said, "They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace." Jer. viii. 11. THE WAY OVER THE STONE WALL. Mr. Little boys, though, and grown-up Billy. "Look here, boys! Who hits the martin-house is the best fellow!" Tom Manson was speaking then, and his hearers were Billy Bowles and Ned Freeman. They were Under the martin-house, fifteen out in Mr. Jones's meadow. feet down, was a little window in Jones had a barn in the meadow the barn. Nobody intended to hit for storing hay. Away up on the that; but alas! an unlucky stone south-east corner of the ridge-pole from Ned's hand went crashing was a little white martin-house, and through the glass. The boys stopped it was this that Tom Manson pro- throwing. posed to hit. "Come, fire away!" cried Tom. "Who has a better right? One would say that Farmer Jones had the right to say whether his martin-house should be stoned. It cost him half a sovereign to have it made, and some hard climbing and a hole in his pants to set it up. "Now you've done it!" said "We'd better make use of our legs and go." Tom. Ned thought it was cowardly but allowed himself to be swept away by the rest. They reached the road. There they met William Transom; he was Ned Freeman's father's "hired man.' |