FAILURES AND SUCCESSES; OR, SKETCHES OF CHARACTER. "You will not think I am going to add to the teasing, my dear, if I say one more word. I do not wish to discuss the matter further now, but I have one thought I want to give you to take away with you, and lay seriously to heart. Will you hear it?" Anything from you, Miss Selwyn.' Well, it is this. Christianity, as has been well said, is an imperial religion. It does not merely teach us truth, or invite our adherence to it; it commands our allegiance. Therefore, if we refuse to accept the salvation offered, we are not only foolish and mistaken, but disobedient. If you consult the margin of your Bible, you will find how often the real word used for unbelief is disobedience." "But that seems very hard. People can't make themselves believe." "But whatever God commands, He gives us the means of doing; so I believe that any one who really seeks to know God will be enabled to know and believe. But your case is a stronger one. If unbelief is disobedience, how much more disobedient is one who, like you, acknowledges the truth of Christianity and yet refuses to render the allegiance and submission which Christ demands. It is nothing less than saying, We will not have this man to reign over us.' And do you think that such a refusal will be excused at the last day in God's sight, by the plea that some of His subjects had made themselves disagreeable to you? Would an earthly monarch accept such an excuse? and how much less the King of kings?" 6 Elsie made no answer. I did not wish to press the subject further, thinking it best to leave the thought to work in her own mind. No more was said, and she and Julia left me to return home a few minutes later. "You said something to Elsie which impressed her a good deal," said Margaret next day, when she came to look over some school accounts with me. "She was very silent all the evening, and her manner s quiet and subdued, quite unlike her usual self." "I am very glad to hear that. Did Julia tell you of our conversation?" · "Yes, she did; I am very thankful for it-for Elsie is a difficult person to get at. She is very lively and outspoken on the surface, but there is a kind of drop scene' which is very difficult to lift. I was never able to win her confidence when I was at Mrs. Walton's last year, but I believe she distrusted every one who joined her mother's readings or went to meetings with her, as, in some sort, in a hostile position." 66 Tell me a little about her family. I know Mrs. Merton took you there when you were in the neighbourhood of London with her." "Mrs. Walton is a very good woman and anxious to do the best by all her family. But she has a strange way of going on. She is a widow, with these three single daughters at home (besides two or three married children). The youngest girl, Jemima, makes a very high profession of piety, and is made very much of in the religious circle they move in. I think she is rather spoiled, and influences her mother in a way that does harm to the other two. The plan is, for the religious ones and those who are not so, to live like two families boarding in one house, exactly as Elsie told you there is nothing like family prayer, but Mrs. Walton and Jemima read together in her morning room, and any visitors 461 who are known to care about such things decidedly are invited to join, while Elsie and Clara practise and draw and receive their friends in another room, and are never encouraged to come in if there is any gathering of a religious kind. Now I know many people press their children far too much, as we have seen again and again; but I think Mrs. Walton's plan is quite as great a mistake on the other side." "It seems almost to amount to a prohibition of her elder daughters joining them." It does come to that very nearly. She would not of course forbid the girls to come into the reading or prayer; but their doing so would be so remarked on, and excite so much astonishment, that I should be surprised if they had the courage to face such an ordeal." "All their friends asking, 'Is Saul among the prophets?"" I said half laughing. "But in sober earnest, it is a very sad mistake; and it seems strange that parents who are longing for their children's real conversion to God should actually put hindrances in the way." "Their idea is, I believe," said Margaret, "to leave them full liberty, and avoid the risk of being supposed to force them into a religious profession which is not sincere." "And the danger on that other side is very great too; but the reverse of wrong is not always right. The evil on this side is, that a barrier is placed in the way of turning to better things. It is as if the parents who kept the latch always raised to admit their prodigal child, had, instead of this, put up bolts and bars and a loud bell which must be rung before the wanderer could be admitted, so as to make return impossible without just the noise and publicity such an one would particularly dread." "I suppose," said Margaret, "they would argue that if the young people were really under the influence of conviction of heart, they would break through all obstacles and come out boldly." They forget that we have to do with nature as well as grace. Very few, I think, are quite aware of the intense shyness and timidity which young inquirers generally feel, even those of a naturally open and courageous character, when beginning to experience a spiritual awakening." "I remember feeling that myself," said Margaret, "and being so thankful that my mother and immediate friends were wise enough to let me alone a good deal." Ah, it is just that little wholesome neglect that Christian parents often fail in. That shyness, I believe, is as much a provision of God to protect the germ of new life as the snow which lies over the young plants. And if we frighten them back by demanding a public display when they are just needing tender and gentle leading, we may really seriously hinder the work." "I remember," said Margaret, "long ago, the matron of a reformatory, I think it was, that my dear mother used to visit. She told mamma that in her table of the arrangements of the day no stated place or time was set apart, even when getting up or going to bed, for the private prayers of the young people; till their hearts were really touched, she said, they could not really pray, and it was a mockery to arrange for it as if they could. When they wished, they could kneel by their bedside at any time of the day or night. I remember mamma told her she was afraid it would effectually hinder a girl from doing so, in many cases, even if she did wish, for if her kneeling down to pray made her a mark for a hundred eyes to watch, it would be too much for most young beginners. Mamma said she would think it well to settle a time of private prayer in a school or institution, if there was but one person who took advantage of it, rather than to expose that one to a trial she might not be able to bear." Pages for the Young. MAY LYNWOOD. AN INCIDENT OF SCHOOL LIFE. DINNER over, Miss Graham rose from the table, saying, she did so, "I must have this matter clearei. M. Markby, will you kindly have all the shelves and desks : the schoolroom turned out." A few minutes after and usually orderly schoolroom was the scene of noise and confus.& It would indeed be difficult to describe the excitement a missing book lay before them. wonder that prevailed when, on opening Agnes's desk, ti A general exclamation of surprise was heard on all sides. “Well I never!" "Who would have thought it possible!" "I don't believe Agnes put it there." "I'm sure she didn "Your mother spoke very wisely, and it is a case in point. I am afraid this plan of Mrs. Walton's has done much to check a beginning of good in Elsie." "She is wonderfully softened, however, even in these few days, as you would say if you had seen her at home. The state of things there was very painful; there was a continual sparring between Elsie and Jemima, who would never let her sister alone. Mrs. Walton was very much engaged, as far as I saw, in work of her own of different kinds-These and similar expressions arose from almost every e cottage-readings and the like-and treated Jemima with a great deal of distinction, and her elder daughters with a kind of melancholy indulgence, sighing over them, and calling them her poor children,' in a manner which I could see irritated Elsie greatly, though she pretended not to care. Clara has, I think, less force of character, and seemed absorbed in her own pursuits and amusements; she may, however, have been more hurt than she appeared to be. I was very sorry for both the girls, and longed to help them if I could; but, as I said just now, they mistrusted me, and kept me at a distance. I think Elsie's visit here will be of great use in breaking through that feeling." "And what of Olive? Her aunt spoke of her as if she was dissatisfied with her, and she herself looks troubled." Those "I did: she must have great talent. paintings are beautiful, one seldom sees anything so good from an amateur." "She had always a passion for drawing; she was well taught, and her brother's wife having been the daughter of an eminent landscape painter, he is very much mixed up with art and artists, and Olive has had every opportunity of cultivating it. But I am sure she has always seemed to me very careful, ever since I have known her, and since she has been really and earnestly religious, to keep her drawing in its proper place and never neglect any higher duties for it. She was an active Sundayschool teacher and very useful among the poor, in her old home, and devoted to her grandmother while she lived. But you know that Mrs. Merton and Mrs. Walton have a great dread of Christian people paying any attention to anything that comes under the head of ornamental acquirements." "Yes, I remember our old discussions about literary pursuits and so forth. So I suppose they have been urging Olive to give up her drawing." "I fancy they have worried her a good deal about it. She said she would like to talk it over with you some day; do try and make an opportunity of seeing her quietly.' "I will, gladly. I trust the visit may turn out to have been a help to both these girls." present. Three only of the number remained silent. Ág was too much taken aback to speak, May felt utterly bewilder and even Uranie, when she saw the turn things had taken, stow speechless. Her last thought was to bring one of her schri fellows into trouble. Agnes's desk standing close to the op door, she had thrust the book into it as she passed down th passage to the dining-room. Her intention was to take it es while the girls were dressing for their walk and replace it the bookcase. She felt certain Agnes would not be likely t go to her desk before evening, as the greater part of the after noon was occupied by the drawing-master. Her little plan was, as we have seen, frustrated. "There is some mystery in this," said Miss Markby; "Ins say for my own part, I don't believe Agnes knew any r about it than I do. However, I must tell Miss Graba Perfect silence in my absence, if you please." mons. was eithe Miss Markby left the room, and nothing more heard or said on the subject until after tea, when Miss Graha sent a message, requesting Miss Markby, Mademoiselle Fräul and all the young ladies to repair to the drawing-room, as s wished to speak to them. May, whom no one had ever s pected of being in any way concerned in the matter, had be already fetched by her aunt's servant, for the tea-party to which she had been invited, but the others obeyed the sunA strict investigation was entered into, but no light seemed thrown on the lost book. In reply to Miss Grabani's repeated inquiries, Agnes simply denied all knowledge of the matter. In vain she was urged to say who had entered the room while she was practising, but no answer could be companions. Finding further conversation useless, Mis elicited which might in the least degree implicate any of her Graham at length dismissed her little party, saying that she would never rest until she had ascertained the whole truth. into another channel. During the evening a heavy rain bad Her thoughts were destined, however, to be quickly turned set in, and now the storm was raging. The waves roared, the thunder pealed, and the whole sky was illumined with lightubs In the midst of this, May returned, drenched to the skin, and shivering all over with cold. A warm bed and hot bath were quickly prescribed, and thus ended the eventful day. CHAPTER VI.-THE SICK BED. "Oh, Miss Graham, please do come quickly, May's talking so funnily, and Uranie and I are so frightened." Miss Graham rose hastily on hearing the little voice outside her door. On opening it she saw a tiny white-robed figure barefooted and shivering from head to foot. "Mabel, darling, you should not have come down like this with your cough too. Jump into my bed while I go to May." MAY LYNWOOD. .Ꮎ Ꮃ Having given her orders, Miss Graham sat down quietly to vatch by the sick girl, now soothing her with gentle words, ow bathing the hot forehead with eau-de-cologne, while, notvithstanding a look of anxiety which overshadowed her face, t was still the same calm, gentle, but dignified countenance so uch beloved by almost all her pupils. With the assistance of Jane (a faithful old servant who had een in the family many years) Miss Graham moved May down o a little room leading out of her own, and the tiny Mabel was arried back, wrapped in a blanket, to her little crib beside Tranie. The clock was tolling the hour of midnight, when the doctor's well-known step was heard on the stairs. Miss Graham went orward to meet him, and in another minute he was standing y our little heroine, who lay with closed eyes, and apparently uite unconscious. Miss Graham feared, from the doctor's xpression, that May was in a most precarious state, and his Fords only confirmed her worst suspicion. "It's a very bad case," was his answer to Miss Graham's nxious inquiries. The words sent a thrill of anguish through the heart of the ind governess, which would have been doubly intensified had he been aware that, notwithstanding the closed door, the octor's words had reached the quick ears of the young sufferer. A low moan soon recalled her to the bedside. The eyes were pen now, and the pale face bore a look of agony which showed ut too plainly that something was deeply distressing her. Miss Graham felt that this was not the time for any conversaion, so she sat down, tenderly taking the child's hand to comfort er, and inwardly praying that God might help them. Many days passed before there was any perceptible change. day seemed now a little better, though still very ill. During he long hours, when conversation was forbidden, the Holy Spirit had been at work in her young heart. That Spirit had hown her the worthlessness of the excuses she had framed for herself, for yielding from time to time to Uranie's suggestions. And now her misery seemed almost unbearable. "Is the pain so bad, my darling?" said Miss Graham. "No-it's not that," gasped the poor girl," but shall I never -never get better? must I die?" The hot hands were stretched eagerly out towards the gentle nurse, and the bright eyes were canning her face with a look of inexpressible earnestness, as if rying to read if there was any hope. "My darling, you are in God's hands, and He will do with Fou as seemeth best in His sight," replied Miss Graham. It was in vain Miss Graham tried in her tender way to soothe the poor child. She assured her that, although all ooked so dark, and she had much to make her fear the worst, he Saviour in whom she trusted had as much power now as when He went about on earth healing the sick and even raising the Head. "Remember, darling, those words, 'Jesus Christ the ame yesterday, and to-day, and for ever. Would you be afraid o trust yourself to Him?" With a look of utter despair, the sufferer, by a great effort, aised herself again, saying, "Oh! save me; I'm not fit to die." "Shall we together ask the Lord Jesus, who alone can save ou from your sins, to give the new heart and robe of righteousness, and make you fit to be with Him in the many mansions He has gone to prepare? Is there anything special that makes you fear forgiveness cannot be for you?" 463 "Some might think my faults not very great, but they show how bad is my heart," said the sick girl. "I knew the right, and I did the wrong." "If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins,'" replied Miss Graham. "Have you ever taken these sins to Jesus, dear May, and asked Him to forgive you?" "No, Miss Graham, I dared not. I've been going on, getting worse and worse, thinking more and more of self, and less and less of pleasing Him, caring little what He thought of me, so long as those around believed me to be good." 66 Though your sins are so great," replied Miss Graham, "Jesus Christ came to save you from them." "Oh, Miss Graham, I've been so wicked, you don't know. I must tell you," and, endued with almost supernatural strength, the poor child told, from beginning to end, the sad story of her downward course. Then, as she finished with a bitter cry, she fainted away. Miss Graham, not being used to such scenes, felt greatly alarmed. Sending for the doctor, she herself prayed earnestly to God to spare her little charge if it were his will; or, if He sent his messenger Death, to grant her peace. In her agony Miss Graham had prayed audibly, and as she rose, with her face bathed in tears, she saw the blue eyes fixed steadily on her. May was conscious. "Come here, please, quite close," she whispered. "I'm very weak, and I can't speak loud, but I want to talk to you." Miss Graham complied, seating herself by the child's bed. "What is it, darling?" she said. "Tell me about Jesus saving us, please; are you sure that I am not too bad to be forgiven?" "Though your sins be as crimson they shall be as white as snow,'" slowly repeated Miss Graham. "But I've been so very wicked; I knew better," said May. "Do you think, darling, that your father, Mr. Lynwood, would forgive you?" "Oh, yes, Miss Graham; I know he would be sorry, but I'm quite sure he would forgive me." 66 "No, Miss Graham," said May, "but it is so hard to believe in His love when I've never seen Him." "Does He not give you daily proofs of it, dear child? The sun to give light and warmth to the earth, the dear father who you hear is so wonderfully better, kind friends, and, more than all, the gift of Himself to die for you and for me?" There was a pause. Then, with a voice trembling with emotion, May, clasping her hands together, said, "O Lord, dear Jesus, I do thank Thee for loving even me; please teach me to love Thee, and forgive me my sins, because Thou hast died for them on the cross. Amen." Turning to Miss Graham she added, “I see it now, Jesus loves me; He came to seek and to save me; I must love Him, I do trust Him." SCRIPTURE ENIGMA. NO. XVIII. 1. The city of Asia Minor whence Paul took ship for Rome. 2. The fourth or last of the seven deacons chosen by the twelve apostles. 3. A certain orator who misnamed Paul "a pestilent fellow." 4. A city of Cilicia where, as Paul informs Timothy by letter, he suffered "persecutions and afflictions." 5. A Christian convert who diligently sought out and ministered to Paul in his bonds. 6. The native place of "an old disciple" who accompanied Paul to Jerusalem, and entertained him there. 7. The language in which Paul addressed the people from the castle stairs. The initials give the name of a city where the Apostle of the Gentiles preached, and in which the disciples were first called Christians. The Life of Christ in Ancient Prophecy. (See Page 399.) The Messiah will destroy the devil and his works. He will descend from Abraham. The kingdom shall depart from Judah when He comes. He shall descend from David. He shall be born at Bethlehem. His mother shall be a virgin. The child born shall be called "the mighty God." A star will announce His coming. The Gentiles shall come from afar to Him. The children of Bethlehem will be murdered. He will go into Egypt. His messenger shall prepare His way. He will preach chiefly in Galilee. He will preach especially to the poor. He will work miracles. He will teach chiefly in parables. The Jews will not believe Him. He will ride into Jerusalem on an ass's colt. The multitude will welcome Him. The builders (or Jewish rulers) will reject Him. The Jews will unite with the Gentiles against Him. He will be betrayed by one of His most intimate friends. He will be betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, which will be cast to the potter, in the Temple. He will be forsaken by His disciples. He will be silent when accused. False witnesses will rise against Him. His trial will be evidently unjust. The Lord will be mocked and reviled. In mockery they strike Him with a reed. He will be scourged and spit upon. He will die for our sins. He is the Lamb of God, that beareth the sin of the world. His hands and His feet will be pierced. A crowd will assemble to gaze on His sufferings. They will shake their heads with scorn. They will divide His garments among them. In His thirst, they will give Him vinegar mixed with gall. He was numbered with transgressors. He will cry, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" He will commit His soul to God. He will be pierced. A bone of Him shall not be broken. He will not remain long in the grave. He will die, yet rise again. He will ascend on high, and shower gifts on men. He will sit at God's right hand. To Him every knee shall bow. He will descend to earth again. He will be attended by thousands of angels. All the saints will come with Him. He will come with the clouds of heaven. His reign shall have no end. God's word cannot be broken. |