lay behind Gad as a kind of reserve, should ever the downland and forests of Gilead become too strait for him. And we know that he used his opportunity in this matter, and pushed out vigorously towards the east and north-east-for he is described in the Chronicles as dwelling "in the homesteads of the Hagarites, as far as unto Salcah," that is, in the heart of the debateable land where the Arab descendants of Hagar have from time immemorial fed their flocks, but from which they have always retired when a strongly-organised power has claimed to occupy the desert as the natural boulevard of its Syrian possessions. In these indefinitely extended borders, Moses describes the tribe of Gad as lying down securely "like a lion," the universal emblem of majesty and dignity, and of overpowering strength joined with courage and generous magnanimity. This last-mentioned feature of character undoubtedly pertained to the Gadites, who possessed both the defects and the virtues of those roving children of the desert, whose mode of life had from the first been most congenial to them. The land in which Gad dwelt like a lion became a sort of standing refuge to the persecuted and oppressed from amongst all the other Hebrew tribes. Again and again do we read in the history of Israel's troublous times how the weaker party fled across the Jordan to seek shelter with their generous kinsmen the Gadites; and never were the fugitives repulsed, but, on the contrary, they were always received with a chivalrous hospitality, and defended and succoured until either their calamity was overpast, or their cause was manifestly condemned by God.* The same spirit of courageous championship of others was shown by the Gadites in the invasion of Western Canaan by Joshua, and a distinct prophetic reference is made to the incident in the closing words of Moses' blessing. A picked body of warriors from this tribe formed the vanguard of the Hebrew host when it broke up from its encamp. ment at Shittim. This brave forlorn hope was the first to cross the Jordan-the first to bear the brunt of battle against Canaanite and Amorite and Perizzite; and only when the Promised Land was wholly subdued did the Gadites ask to be dismissed from their post of honour and of danger, that they might return to their own possessions in Gilead (Josh. iv. 12, xxii. 1-4). How well may this chivalry of one tribe in ancient Israel suggest to Christian readers of this blessing their call to place themselves "at the head of the people;" not in the arrogance of ambition which covets the first place and the best for one's own selfish ends, but in the noble impulse of self-sacrificing courage which is ready to "comfort the feeble-minded and support the weak; " and so, as Moses says here concerning God, to "execute the justice of the Lord, and His judgments, with Israel." To this very honour are we Christians called, even to "endure all things for *See for instances of this magnanimity 1 Sam. xiii. 7; 2 Sam. ii. 8, 9, xvii. 27-29, xix. 31-39 the elect's sake, that they may also obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory" (2 Tim. ii. 10; 1 Thess. v. 14). It is in the light of this unselfish behaviour of the tribe of Gad that we are bound to interpret a clause in the blessing which otherwise might suggest an unpleasant reflection upon the character for generosity and magnanimity which has been ascribed to the lion-like dwellers in Gilead and in the deserts that stretched away interminably from Gilead to the east. Moses records here how Gad "chose the first-fruits (of conquest) for himself, because there was laid up the portion fit for a leader." The historical event to which he refers is fully detailed in Numb. xxxii., and has been alluded to in a former part of this paper. Before the Jordan was crossed over, and before any part of the land originally promised to Israel was invaded, the Gadites obtained a settlement in that rich district which had just been wrested from Sihon and from Og east of the river. This region of forest-clad hills and swelling downs still bears the palm for picturesque beauty and inexhaustible fertility over all the rest of the scenery of Palestine. Not a traveller visits it but speaks with enthusiasm of its "graceful hills, rich vales, luxuriant herbage." "It is like a noble park," says one," clothed with grass throughout; in the southern parts are trees thinly scattered here and there, aged trees covered with lichen, as if they were the relics of a primeval forest long since cleared away; the northern parts still abound in magnificent woods of sycamore, beech, terebinth, ilex, and enormous fig-trees." How well might Moses say concerning the tribe which secured such a noble inheritance before any of its brethren, except Reuben, had received a foot of ground in the Promised Land, that it "chose out the first-fruits, a portion fit for the leader" ! Perhaps the best hint as to our own spiritual use of such a "blessing" will be the exhortation of Paul to certain aspiring saints at Corinth Covet earnestly the best gifts, and yet show I unto you a more excellent way. . . Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not LOVE, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal" (1 Cor. xii. 31; xiii. 1). The last words which are written concerning Gad, both in the Old Testament and in the New, are of happier omen than we recognise in the case of some others of the tribes. It is true that Jeremiah mourns bitterly over the captivity of his people and the depopulation of their land, crying: "Hath Jacob no son? Hath he no heir? Why then doth Moloch (i.e., the Ammonitish nation which adored that horrid idol) inherit Gad?" (Jer. xlix. 1.) Bat a later prophet, Ezekiel, in his vision of a restored temple and kingdom of the Twelve Tribes, beheld a " portion for Gad" with a border from Tamar unto Kadesh in the wilderness, and "one gate for Gad at the west side of the New Jerusalem; adding, "The name of the city from that day shall be Jehovah Shammah," i.e., "The Lord is there" (Ezek. xlviii. 27, 28, 34, 35). There is no need to dwell upon the spiritual purport of these prophetic visions which are repeated in the Apocalypse, which unveils the destinies of the Christian Church. Not for any literal Hebrew tribe, but for the members of Christ's spiritual Israel, was the sealing of Gad's twelve thousand made to pass before the entranced seer of lonely Patmos (Rev. v. 4, 5.) And if any one would ask what that sealing means, this brief exposition of the blessing of Moses upon Gad may suggest the doctrine which an apostle thus proclaims; "The foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, the Lord knoweth them that are his. And let every one that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity" (2 Tim. ii. 19). CLOVER. BESSIE MOORE was out in her father's pasture, at the back of the barn, picking blackberries, when she was startled by the blast of a horn. A look of anxiety came over her sweet face as she ran quickly and climbed the fence to see if Mr. Thyson, the "meatman," who blew his horn twice a week to announce his coming, was to stop. She watched the horses climbing the hill; and when she saw her mother come to the back door and swing a towel, she threw herself upon the ground and sobbed as though her heart would break. She knew full well that it was not to buy meat that her mother had signalled for Mr. Thyson to stop, for although she was but ten years old, she was aware of the fact that there was no money with which to buy it. Oh no! She realised that the event she had been dreading so long was to happen now -that her pet calf, Clover, her only playmate, so white and so fond of her, was to be sold. Affairs had been coming to a crisis lately. Her father, who had been ill all summer, was still too feeble to work, and the small stock of money he had saved was rapidly going. She knew that he could not afford to feed the calf through the winter, and she knew that Mr. Thyson wanted her and had offered a large price for her. Mr. Thyson was a man who wanted to possess all the rarest specimens of cattle, and he had been very anxious to buy this calf, which was said to be the handsomest creature in colour and shape ever seen in Loudoun county. He was a selfish man, withal, and was very ready to take advantage of Mr. Moore's misfortunes to get her. He had one child, a boy about fourteen years old, named Tom, and he was determined, if possible, to teach him to be as shrewd in business matters as himself; but so far Tom had not shown progress in that di rection. He often went with his father as he rode through the country with his meat, and was advised by him to "watch sharp," for he would soon be old enough to take the business himself. Tom did "watch sharp," and his large brown eyes grew moist with tears to see his father take Bessie's calf away, for he knew how Bessie loved Clover, and that it was only necessity that made Mr. Moore sell her. And Meantime Bessie had climbed the pasture fence and crept quietly behind the barn, where, through a big crack, she saw and heard all that passed. Then, as the waggon turned to go out of the yard, she went back, and running across the pasture with all her might, climbed the fence on the other side, ran along the road to the corner which she knew the waggon must pass, and waited for it. As she saw it coming she waved her hand for it to stop, and in a trembling voice cried: "Oh, please, stop a minute. I want to ask you something." Mr. Thyson drew up his horses, wondering what child it was in such apparent distress, for he didn't recognise Bessie at first, as, in her haste to reach the turn in the road before the waggon came along, she had fallen down in the dust, and then wiping her tears away with her stained hands, had smeared her face so as to be hardly recognisable. "Oh, please, please, Mr. Thyson," she screamed, "you won't kill my calf, will you?" couldn't afford to keep her, and had to sell her, and that's all about it." But if it was "all there was about it" it made him very uncomfortable. In spite of all his reasoning, he couldn't help thinking how easily he could spare food enough from which his barns would soon be overflowing to keep the calf for a time. How happy that would make Bessie, and how it would lighten her parents' hearts! He couldn't get the sick countenance of Mr. Moore out of his mind, or the tired, worn face of his wife, or, more than all, little Bessie standing alone in the dusty turnpike, watching him as he took away the only pet and playmate she had. As they were sitting at supper that evening, Tom burst out suddenly: "Father, would you sell that calf?" "Yes, and be glad to get rid of her if I can get my price." "Well, I'd like to buy her if I've got money enough in my bank." "You! What do you want with her?" "Oh! something. Will you sell her to me?" "Yes, I suppose so. Yes, you may have her for fifty shillings, just what I paid." "And do exactly what I please with her, father? "Yes, Tom, you may buy her and do exactly what you please with her, upon one condition; and that is, if by buying her you get yourself into a hard scrape, you will work yourself out of it without help." Tom readily promised, for he couldn't imagine what scrape he could possibly get into by buying Clover. So the bargain was soon concluded and the money paid. Meantime, Bessie had dried her tears and gone home, trying very hard to be cheerful; but as soon as she had eaten her supper she crept up to her little room and sobbed herself to sleep. The next morning couldn't stay, for he had not food she felt braver, and thought she enough to keep her through the would try to forget Clover. Her winter, and no money to buy any. father usually lay on a lounge by So the next morning Bessie started the sitting-room window through to carry her back to Tom. It was the day, and for several mornings two miles away, but it was a lovely Clover had been in the habit of morning, and Bessie enjoyed the coming there and putting her head walk very much. Tom saw her in to be caressed. So Bessie made before she reached the house, and a point of getting a basket of fresh ran to meet her. clover blossoms, with which her father would feed the calf while Bessie and her mother were at breakfast. But the morning after Clover left, Bessie sat down to the table with a heavy heart, for she missed Clover then more than ever. She had hardly taken a mouthful, though, before her father called out "Bessie, just bring me a basket of clover, won't you? Clover wants her breakfast." Bessie sprang from her chair with a bound, exclaiming, "Why, papa, youve forgotten! Clover's gone! But no; there was her sweet, white face peering in at the window, and there, holding her by a cord, stood Tom Thyson, his face covered with smiles. 66 Why, Tom," screamed Bessie, "did she run away?" 66 No, I bought her of father, and now I'm going to give her back to you. She's yours again now. Goodbye;" and before Bessie could express her thanks Tom was gone. Now, although the return of the calf brought great joy to Bessie, it brought equal concern to her parents, for the question arose, how Clover could be fed ? Mr. Thyson had foreseen that difficulty from the first, but Tom, in his eagerness to get the calf back to Bessie, had not thought of it. Mr. Thyson said nothing, though. He thought he would see how Tom would manage. Toward night Bessie's father called her to him and told her that, although Tom was very kind and thoughtful to bring Clover back, she "I know you've brought her back," said he, laughing heartily, "because you haven't any food for her. I forgot she would have to eat, but don't you worry, Bess. You shall have that calf for yours, if you have to wait till she is a cow; and then they laughed to think she wouldn't be much of a calf by that time. "But you see," he added, "I'm in a scrape, whether I give her to you or keep her myself, for I haven't any food for her either, and it will never do to ask father for any. But I'll manage it somehow before to-morrow. I'll go to bed soon after supper and think it out." So Bessie left the calf, and Tom took part of what money he had and went to his father to buy some food for her. The next morning he said to his father: 66 Father, have you anything you could hire me to do this winter? I am going to carry the calf back again this morning. I am not going to give this job up, now that I've started. So I am going to earn money enough to feed her this winter myself." “Ah! So you are going to work for the calf's board, are you? Well, if you want to take Jim's place here you can earn her board and something besides. You could do this work before and after school, if you were smart and got up early." 66 Well, I'll take it and try. I'd like to buy food enough now to keep her this week, and after this I can earn it and carry it over." Tom filled his hand-cart with the |