Sunday-school times

              .
SUNDAY-SC
VOLUME VI.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT ONE DOLLAR A YEAR-PHILADELPHIA, JUNE 4, 1864.
NUMBER 23.
THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES,
A Weekly Religious Paper.
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Furnished to the Sunday-School Times.
THE CHRISTIAN COMMISSION.
HIGH TESTIMONY TO ITS LABORS.
Bishop McIIvaine's Impressions.
THE undersigned, during the past week has
been in close personal connection with the
operations of the Christian Commission under
circumstances most calculated to exhibit their
character and usefulness, and he feel3 it to be
hia duty to that great agency and to the coun¬
try, as it is a gratification to his own feelings,
to publish his impressions concerning it.
I left Washing'on with the President of the
Commission, that most earnest and most work¬
ing and effective Christian man, George H.
Stuart, of Philadelphia, in a steamer for Belle
Plain, on our way to Fredericksburg, expect¬
ing, if circumstances allowed, to get to the
lines of the Potomac army. Our view was to
see what was needed for the most effective
application of Christian help, as to bodily and
spiritual wants, to the soldiers of that noble
host. While every facility was tendered for
our reaching the front, a change of circum¬
stances rendered the enterprise unadvisable,
so that we went no further than Fredericks¬
burg. On our way to Belle Plain the charac¬
ter of the men composing the delegation of
the Commission began to appear. Many of
them were in the steamer going to the work—
men from various parts and professions and
Christian connections. I was delighted with
the unity of spirit, in the bond of love, which
was manifest in these earnest, Christian men,
going to a solemn work in the spirit of prayer.
I shall not soon forget the meeting for prayer
•anJ praise en .Le deck of tVs'stfilMHer. I have
reason to believe that there were by-standers
who will not forget it. At Belle Plain we
were detained some hours in the Christian
Commission tent and it3 vicinity, waiting for
conveyance to Fredericksburg. At Frede¬
ricksburg we were set down in the midst of
the work. There were from 8,000 to 10,000
wounded men in the various churches, halls,
and other houses of the town. As some were
3ent away towards Washington others came
in from the field. The application of the work
of the Commission to those poor sufferers lying
in ambulances, just from the battle, and wait¬
ing to be placed under shelter, as well as to
the thousands in the so-called hospitals, was
just the aspect in which it would best exhibit
its true character. I joined in it, messed with
the delegates, saw the whole interior of how
they lived and denied themselves and
wrought. The morning was begun and the
day was ended with devotional exercises in
the open air, for the Commission rooms afforded
no space for the 160 or 170 to meet in. God
will bless the work of men that prayed and
praised, and spake and loved and mounted
above earthly things, and hungered after use¬
fulness to the souls of the wounded soldiers
as they did. Those morning and evening
prayers and hymns will refresh my memory
as long as I live. From the morning frugal
meal—each receiving his ration from a winiow
("just about as good as that of a private soldier)
in his tin cup and his pewter plate, and sitting
on a box or standing in the open air to eat it—
they separated to their several hospitals, some
having, as captains of divisions, several houses
under them, others acting a3 subordinates.
They went out to body and soul, to help the
surgeons, some of them surgeons themselves,
to wa3h, to feed, to soothe, to take part in the
most painful operations, to minister in every
wise and loving way to the sick, the maimed,
the dying, to talk with them about their soula,
to point them to the Lamb of God, to pray
with them, under all varieties of trying and
painful circum-tances, to receive their last
messages to dear ones at home, to comfort in
all ways those dear men to whom the country
is so deeply indebted, to bury them when
dead. But I cannot expect to give an ade¬
quate idea of their work, or of their spirit in
it, for all accounts to me, before I saw it, had
creatly foiled to make me comprehend it so as
to do it any justice, greatly as I had valued it.
What particularly struck me in the work was
the individuality and personality of the con¬
nection between the Commission agent and
the wounded sufferers. There was nothing
between them to make the application of
aid circuitous or doubtful. It did not take the
place of, or in the least interfere with, the work
of the official men, the army surgeons, &c.
It supplemented them. It helped them. It
supplied deficiencies in special emergencies,
which no government could be ready for, in
all the details of such a condi'ion of thing3 as
existed at Fredericksburg. It met the wound¬
ed on the field; it met them on their arrival
at that town long before the appliances of
a very over-worked corps of excellent army
surgeons and nurses could get to them. I j
was much struck with the high character of j
the men, coming from the highest social po¬
sitions, reinforcements daily arriving as the
time of others expired, but not reaching the
necessities of the case; [on our way from Fre¬
dericksburg we met 20 or 30 on their way down,
walking in the hot sun,] and then with how
they laid aside their garments and girded them¬
selves, and became servants to all for Christ's
sake, how laboriously they wrought, and
how all along, with ministrations to the body,
they carried the gospel, and most of all, sought
the salvation of the soldier. And how the
poor sufferers welcomed them—how they ap¬
preciated their work—how they thanked
them! In how many cases did I hear them
say, " We should have been dead by this time
but for the Christian Commission men." The
reader must not expect me to give him an
adequate idea of that work. The delegate
gets his transportation to and from his field,
(the railroads and the government uniting to
furnish it.) Besides that, he gets his board,
and'what is that? A soldier's ratio?!, eaten
without a table, or a chair, and often without
a roof or covering above; a blanket and a
floor to lie on at night. Such was the board
at Fredericksburg, such is the expense of
the agency. There is no salary, except as
there are a few stationary agents, who, while
others come for a few weeks, and go, and new
men come to take their places, are necessary
to give shape and order and direction to the
whole work. These, of course, are moderately
paid. But of the 160 at Fredericksburg, when
I was there, only one or two were in such posi¬
tion. Such is all the deduction from the money
received for the soldier, to carry it from the
donor to the sufferer. Can a cheaper agency
be conceived of? Put that trifling cost of
work in comparison with the good done, espe¬
cially to the souls of those beloved, patient,
cheerful, suffering, many of them dying men!
Having seen the work, under circumstances
which tested it to the uttermost, as to the sort
of men it gets, the wisdom of its appliances,
and the efficiency and economy of its opera¬
tions, I can say, and I want to say out of my
whole heart, that a work more worthy of the
confidence, and affection, and co-operation of
a Christian public, especially of every loyal
heart and hand, cannot be devised. It is
wonderful to see what, from a very small
beginning, it has arrived at. The sight of it
is one of the most refreshing alleviations of
the grief of the land under the tribulations of
this awful war and the wicked conspiracy that
originated it. Blessed be God that such a
spirit of self-denying love has been given to
so many laborers in such a field of suffering!
I have come from that great hospital (fpr all
the town almost was a hospital) full of ad¬
miration of the work of the Christian Com¬
mission, and of determination to do all I can
to aid it. Charles P. McIlvaine,
Bishop of the Diocese of Ohio.
May 23rf, 1864.
N. B.—I d«sire to add that the Christian
Commission has the entire confidence of the
Government, and receives all the facilities it
could expect from the best sympathies of those
in authority.
For the Sunday-School Times.
THE SOUL'S PERIL.
IT was Sabbath evening in a quiet coun¬
try village. Through its streets and lanes
the inhabitants were wending their way to the
place of eveniDg worship. It was an occasion
of more than ordinary interest, for he who
would address them that evening was an ear¬
nest preacher, whose words came with life and
power. It was thus God's message was deliver¬
ed that still summer night. It was a solemn
hour. Under the influence of those burning
words life appeared very short, and eternity
very near. How trifling seemed the cares
and pleasures of life's passing hours; how vast
the immortal interests of the undying soul!
It was the writer's privilege to return from
that evening service in the company of an aged
Christian. Half the way was walked in
hushed and sweet silence. Then the full
heart of the aged disciple burst forth in these
words : " Not for a thousand worlds would I
run the risk of laying my head upon my pil¬
low to-night an impenitent sinner."
Did this aged Christian overrate the peril of
the soul that is unsheltered from the wrath
of God ? Did he overestimate the value of the
ark of safety, in which, long years before, he
had taken refuge, when he felt that for the
wealth of a thousand worlds he would not
step out. from its shelter for one brief night?
Reader, when you lay your head upon your
pillow to-night will you be doing what this
sober-minded Christian would not have ven¬
tured to do for all that this world can offer?
Mayflower.
Departed Friends.
" You who mourn departed friends, from
whose mouth you have not received the
full assurance of peace, do not you turn
from me. If I cannot, with firm hand, point
them out to you in glory, I can show you
something magnificent—a rainbow all radiant
with hope—the love of our Saviour, the power
of prayer, the free and royal gift of an om¬
nipotent grace."—Madame de Gasparin.
For the Sunday-School Times.
"I SEE IT! I SEE IT!"
SUCH was tbe exclamation of a brother of
the House *£ Israel, as the vail of preju¬
dice and unbelief fell from his eyes. " I see
it! I see it! Jesus of Nazareth, the Mes¬
siah, the Saviour to come. 'As Moses lifted
up the serpent in the wilderness,' and my an¬
cient fathers, stung by the fiery, flying ser¬
pents, looked and lived, so I must look to
Jesus, lifted up upon the cross. I see it!
I see it!''
A man of very profane and vile associations,
last Sabbath, walking out to while away an
hour, hearing the music as he was passing,
carelessly dropped into a Christian church—
he would see who and what was there.   A
Be Ready.—Seeing that ye know not but that
the journey is ended, and ye be come to the
water's side, in God's wisdom, look over all
your papers and your counts, and whether ye
be ready to receive the kingdom of heaven as
a little child, in whom there is little haughti¬
ness and much humility. There is an abso¬
lute necessity, that near eternity, we look ere
we leap, seeing no man runneth back again to
mend his leap. W. P. B.
For the Sunday-School Times.
THE FIRE-FLY.
/~1NE warm summer evening, as twilight was
casting its misty shadows over the land¬
scape, Mrs. Howlett was sitting upon the ve-
.,              L    ,         ,.    .           ,   , randah with her children, watching the crim-
theatre actor by profession, and about to open«.  ..: .. , . .   ,, ,      . '    . ..      .      ,.,„„
^oTir „a+„v^i;„l,\ f   Un   ,,„j iu„„_u+   son light in the west as it brightened and then
faded slowly away before the coming night.
Little Freddy, who had been for a long time
unusually quiet, suddenly started up, exclaim¬
ing—
" There, mamma, I know it is. I can see it
now."
" See what, dear ? What are you talking
about?"
" The spark, mamma. There must be a fire
somewhere, for I saw a spark go right over
the honeysuckle.    To ere it is again.    Don't
new establishment, he had no thought
about his soul; but the preacher represented
God as keeping an account with every man,
and showed how the balance sheet stood
against the sinner. This touched his con¬
science ; he was startled. " That balance
sheet, how can I meet it ? It is all against
me—my profanity, gambling, drinking, &c, are
all against me." Great was his distress. Mon^
day morning, seeing in the paper notice of a
prayer-meeting at 8 o'clock, he resolved to
attend; but, by mistake, did not come till just
as the hour expired—a serious disappointment i y°u see it;> Ettie?"
—how could he wait till the next meeting, 4J j " °> that isn,t a
P.M.? In deep trouble.hesousht an introduc-J "That's a fire-fly.
The alms most precious man can give to man,
Are kind and loving words.    Nor come amiss
Warm, sympathizing tears to eyes that scan
The world aright; the only error is
Neglect to do tho little good we can. »
Christians wonder why they should be
saved; sinners why they should be lo3t.
deep trouble, he sought an introduc¬
tion to the Rev. Mr. Hammond, who instructed
and prayed with him, and left other brethren
lingering and entering heartily into his case.
He had been a "terrible sinner," "awfully
wicked," "But are you worse than the murder¬
ers of Jesus Christ ? If they could be par¬
doned and saved, why not you?" "But who
was Jesus Christ ? I have been taught to be¬
lieve in Moses and to regard Jesus Christ as
an impostor." "Can you not believe the fact
that Jesus Christ was the Messiah, the Saviour
of whom Moses and the Prophets did write?"
"O that I could! O that I could!" Much Scrip¬
ture was read to him, but his mind was dark!
dark! Only the Holy Spirit could teach and
relieve him. Could he not understandingly.
pray, " God be merciful to me a sinner?" This
he did, when a brother followed, and while he
was praying, the distressed man, coming into
the light, sprang up from his knees, exclaim¬
ing, not with the enraptured philosopher,
Eureka! Eureka! "I have found it! I have
found it!" but with an infinitely higher and
purer joy, in all the fullness of Christian faith,
" I see itl I see it 1" Only four were present,
but all heaven must have rejoiced ©yes. the1'
scene—such a triumph of grace.
The Holy Spirit had enlightened that Jew¬
ish mind—changed that Jewish heart. The
passage specially instrumental, specially ap¬
plied by the Holy Spirit, was John, 3d chap¬
ter, 14th and 15th verses: "And as Moses
lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even
so must the Son of Man be lifted up; that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life." "Now,"said he, "I
must go and see my Jewish brethren—must
tell them I have found the Messiah. Where
can I find a New Testament ? I never was
allowed to read it." One being given him, he
went on his way rejoicing. He loves Chris¬
tians, seeks their society, is ready to testify
for Christ in private or public, " will not prac¬
tice his old profession any more," " it would
offend his beloved Saviour"—must please him
in all things. His old associates are "very
angry," call him "mad," and one struck him
in the face, but he bears it meekly for right¬
eousness' sake. A brand plucked from the
burning, a miracle of grace, deeply sensible of
his obligations, feeling that he owes all to
Christ, like his brother of Tarsus, he inquires,
" Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" He
reads Hebrew with facility. Educated and
accomplished, may we not hope that he is
a " chosen vessel" to bear the name of Christ
before the house of Israel—to accomplish an
important mission among the Jews of Chicago
and the Northwest? He has had great influ¬
ence for evil, why not now for good ? So it
was with Saul, afterward called Paul. O! the
power and compassion of Christ—who will
not adore his nan^e ? A Witness.
Chicago, III.       j
For the Sunday-School Times.
RUTHERFORDIANA.—No. 20.
Assurance.—O but acquaintance with the
Son of God! " My Beloved is mine and I am
his," is a sweet and glorious course of life, that
none know but those who are sealed and
marked in the forehead with Christ's mark,
and the new name that Christ writeth upon
his own!
Death Harmless.—Death, which brings to
the Lord, the woman's seed, Jesus, only a
bloody heel and not a broken head, cannot be
ill to his friends, who get far le3S of death
than himself.
Chastening Love.—I know that the sweet¬
est of it is bitter to you. But your Lord Will
not give you painted crosses. He pareth not
all the bitterness from the cross, neither taketh
he the sharp edge quite from it. Then it
should be of your selecting and not of his,
which would have as little reason in it as it
would have profit for us.
Thy Will Be Done.—It hath pleased theLord
to let me see, by all appearance, my labors in
God's house here are at an end, and I must
now learn to suffer, in the which I am a dull
scholar. I was willing to do him more ser¬
vice, but seeing he will have no more of my
labors, and this land will thrust me out, I
pray for grace vto learn to be acquainted with
misery.
spark," said his sister.
Did you never see one
before ?"
"A fire-fly 1 Is it a fly? I am going-to
catch it.   Will it burn, mamma ?"
" No, dear; but you cannot catch it. It is
gone now."
" Yes, I can, mamma. I'll hunt it. There
it is again, by that tree. Ettie, come help me,"
and away he went over the lawn.
The tiny spark flew away from him, but he
followed it hither and thither, up and down,
sometimes falling over things which came in
his way, and once when it hid in a rose-bush,
he rushed manfully after it, but there were
thorns among the roses which tore the little
bands, and he cried out with pain.
" Freddy dear," said his mother, " come
away. You cannot catch the foolish little
thing. You only hurt yourself. I wouldn't
try."
But Freddy would not give it up.
"Ye3 I can, mamma," said he; "I caught
a butterfly this morning, and this is so bright I
can see it anywhere. Oh, there it is," and
away he went again, forgetting the thorns and
the bruises as he continued the chase. Some¬
times the insect was away above his head, and
again it would be hid in the long grass at his
feet, or it would shine out from behind the
hedge. Still on he went, encountering more
thorns and getting more falls, but he was a
brave little fellow, and did not stop to cry.
At last he was successful. The little hands
closed over the glowing spark, and with the
joyful exclamation, " O, I've got it! I've caught
it now, mamma!" he came breathlessly up,
carefully holding his new found treasure.
" Take care, Freddy," said his sister; " if
you hold it so tight you will kill it. Bring it
in to the light and let us see what it is. Are
you sure you have the fire-fly?"
"Yes, I am. I saw it go into my hands.
I know I've got it."
Slowly the little hands unclosed before the
eager eyes which were searching them. He
did not speak for a moment, and then he said,
" O, mamma!" but the tone was changed.
"Well, dear?"
He came out to her slowly, and in a grieved
tone replied, " It was only a little brown bug,
and I threw it away," and a sob followed the
words.
" My poor little Freddy! did you get disap¬
pointed after all your trouble, and was it ' only
a little brown bug' after all? Well, I wouldn't
cry about it, dear," and the mother's arms
closed around the little fellow, and her lips
touched his flushed forehead.
" See, there are more of them now, all over
by the hedge and the summer house. How
much brighter they look now it has grown
dark. They are all ' little bugs,' Freddy, and
they only shine when they are flying."
An hour later the mother was standing at the
window beside her eldest boy, a youth of whom
she might well be proud. Yet beneath all his
noble qualities there lurked an eager desire for
fame, for the world's applause, an ambition
which sometimes caused the mother's heart to
tremble.
" Harry dear," said she, placing her hand
caressingly upon his shoulder, " do you know
what Freddy's chase after the fire-fly reminds
me of?"
" What does it, mother ?"
"There are a great many things in this
world which are like fire-flies. They are the
most beautiful and glowing when just beyond
the reach. One of the brightest of these is
fame, and there is many a poor soul with eyes
blinded by its glitter, who considers no labor
too arduous and no path too rugged which
will lead him to it. And should he gain it at
last, possession would take away the bright¬
ness, and with the disappointment he would
have left, like poor little Freddy, only the
scars made by thorns and brambles which he
had encountered in the chase. My boy, be¬
lieve me, there is nothing bright and enduring
but heaven, the ' inheritance which is incor¬
ruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not
away.'"
In one sense we are all children, and most
of us are chasing fire flies. Well would it be
for us if, after gaining one and finding it
worthless, we could learn to give to all their
true value. k.
For the Sunday-School Times.
MY CLASS SAVED.
All safe within the ark ?   Ah ! is it mine
To hope, dear Saviour, all these lambs are thine ?
Sealed with thy seal, cleansed with thy precious
blood,
Grav'd on thy book of life, " The heirs of God?"
In this thy day of mercy, power, and love,
Did thy compassion for these dear ones move,
And help them with thy grace, so rich and free,
To heed the heavenly whisper, " Come to me ?"
Then, Saviour, Shepherd! in thy faithful hand
Securely keep this cherished little band!
Be thou their loving Guardian, Guide, and Friend,
And let thy blessing all their way attend!
If o'er life's roughnesses their feet must tread,
If sorrows, cares, or pains be on them laid,
Vouchsafe thy cheering presence with them there,
And thy strong arm their every burden share !
Oh, let them never, never grieve thy love :
Help them thy sweetest promises to prove ;
Be their young hearts thy constant dwelling place;
Let thine own image beam from every face !
Give to each hand some holy work to do,
To keep them grateful, cheerful, faithful, true; s
Even to win some precious ones for thee,
Thy true, devoted followers to be.
And when thy will in them hath all been done,
And thou hast called them upward one by one,
May they among the blood-bought, joyful meet
The cherished Sabbath circle, all complete !
Newark, N. J., May 23, 1864. H.
For the Sunday-School Times.
GOSPEL WORKERS.
HOW often is the heart of the Christian lay
man, and even of the Christian minister,
cast down on removing to a new community, by
the sin and worldliness he sees abounding in
it. " I can never be useful here," is the com¬
mon feeling. " I can never make headway
against such flood-tides of iniquity."
It was the boast of Augustus that he " found
Rome a city of brick and left it a city of mar¬
ble." So many a humble Christian has made
some desert place of earth " to bud and blos¬
som as the rose, because he went forth in the
strength of One more mighty than any of
earth's princes.
It was said of one Mr. Robinson that when
he removed to the town of Leicester he found
it sunk in sin and degradation. With an
earnest love for the souls as well as the bodies
of men, he set himself about the work of re¬
formation. Little by little he gained on the
enemy's strongholds, until at length the town
became as noted for piety as it had been for
wickedness. He reared no beautiful edifice of
marble,he constructed no famous aqueduct or
fountains which should make for himself a
name among men, but he reared for himself a
monument a thousand times more enduring.
He who writes God's truth on the pages of a
single soul, leading that soul to Jesus, does a
greater work than he who builds a marble
city. It is a work that even the humblest
may perform. God giveth his grace to the
lowly. Let no one despond though his field
looks dreary and unpromising. God does not
send all his missionaries to the heathens. He
often places a Christian family in a seemingly
most uncongenial neighborhood; but if his
providence has clearly marked out the way, it
is the very spot where they can best glorify
him. Like a city set on a hill, they may give
light to all around. What a blessing to a
weak church, just struggling for existence, to
have a devoted Christian added to it, one who
will hold up the hands of the discouraged
pastor, and put his shoulder to the wheel of
every gospel work; one who is always in his
place in the Sunday-school; who takes little
wandering waifs by the hand and leads them
to it; who has always a good, earnest word in
the prayer-meeting, and who lives religion
every day.
Every one may be such a builder and co¬
worker with God. It does not require high
intellectual gifts or attainments, nor vast pos¬
sessions to do all this for Christ; but one such
laborer is a host in any society. Are you
such a gospel worker in the field in which
God has placed you ? Lois.
A FACT FOR TEACHERS.
A FAITHFUL pastor relates the following
fact:—" I once entered a farm-house on
a chilly November evening, and spent an hour
in personal religious conversation with its
inmates. The aged father of the family—a
most kind and amiable man—followed me to
the door and stopped me at the porch. He
took me by the hand and most deliberately
said, 'I thank you for this visit, and hope it
will not be the last. As you have just com¬
menced your labors among us, I wish to give
you a word of advice, based on my own expe¬
rience,—Let us old people alone, and devote
your labors to the youth of your flock. Forty
year3 ago I was greatly anxious about my
soul. Many were then converted ; but I was
not one of them. And now for years I have
not had a single feeling on the subject! I
know that I am a lost sinner. I know that I
can only be saved through Jesus Christ. I
feel persuaded that when I die lam lost! I
believe all you preach, but I feel it no more
than if I were a block of marble. I expect to
live and die just as I am. So leave us to our¬
selves, and our sins, and give your strength to
the work of saving the young.' I remembered
that incident, and watched the progress of
that man. His seat was rarely vacant in the
sanctuary; but he was a true prophet of his
own fate. He lived as he predicted, and so
he died.   We laid him down at last in his
hopeless grave, in the midst of a congregation
over whom God had so often opened windows
in heaven. He was joined to his idols; God
let him alone."—Rev. J. L. Cuyler.
For the Sunday-School Times.
JOE HUNT NOT ELECTED.
BY  THE   REV. JOHN   TODD, D. D.
New Series—No. 14.
JOE HUNT was not a good man. He neither
prayed, read his Bible, attended church,
kept the Sabbath, helped the Bible society or
any other good society. But Joe was a bad man.
He would be profane, and would drink and
abuse his family, and waste his time, and be
idle. His neighbor, Sam. Gordon, on the
contrary, about his own age, lived in a nice-
home, had a good business, had married well,
had family worship daily, was temperate,
honored the Sabbath, gave regularly and libe¬
rally in charity, and was beloved and respect¬
ed by everybody. The difference between Hunt
and Gordon was very great. The whole com¬
munity despised the one and respected the other.
And Joe always stood to it that the reason of
the difference was owing to " Esquire Staples'
partiality;" and he always averred that if the
Esquire had done by him as he did by Sam.
Gordon, he would have been as good a man!
Now the facts of the case are as follows :
When these men were boys, Esquire Staples
was greatly annoyed every year by having the
boys steal his peaches. They would never do
it in open day light, of course; but let there be
a dark, thick night, then look out. On such
an evening as this, Esquire Staples said to his
wife—
" My dear, we shall at this rate lose all our
peaches ! And you know how much time and
labor they have co3t me. I mean to sit up to¬
night and waich them.'
" Why, you won't think of shooting the boys,
will you ?"
" Oh, no ! not so bad as that, I trust."
"Well, you won't set Towser on them, will
you ?    I'm afraid he would bite terribly."
" No, nothing of that. I ain't so cruel aB all
that."
" Well, what will you do should they come?
O, I know! You would halloo at them, and
that would frighten them almost to death."
So the good lady went to bed, charging her
husband not to do anything more than halloo
at them. The night was very cloudy and
dark, and the eye could see nothing. But just
as the clock struck eleven, Esquire Staples
heard the boys as they climbed over the fence,
as they crept along, and now and then stepped
on some little stick that broke with a crack,
and then he heard them shake a tree! Just
then he set out and ran towards the noise, but
as he was a heavy man, the boys beard him
coming and scampered. On he ran with all
his might, but the night was so dark he could
see nothing of the boys. Just before he got
to the south fence over which he knew they
would climb, be stumbled over a boy who had
crouched down, hoping to be hid and to be pass¬
ed by, as he found that he could not get clear
of the fence. So Mr. Staples seized him by the
collar, and lifted him up, and drew him to¬
wards his house. The boy straggled and
squirmed hard to get away, but the Esquire
was a strong man and held him tight. He
tried to bite, and scratch, and make him let
go, but it did no good. Not a word had been
spoken by either one, nor was a word said
till the Esquire had dragged him into his
house, where was a bright lamp burning. He
then looked him in the face !
"Ah! Sammy! it's you, is it? And Joe
Hunt was with you, for you are never sepa¬
rated!" He then made Sam. sit down. O*
how red Sam.'s face was ! He gave him his
pockets full of beautiful peaches. He then
talked to him, and told him about his father
now in the grave, about his widowed mother,
who had no son but him, and about his future
life, his manhood, and character here in this-
world, and what would become of him in the
long eternity of his soul. He then asked Sam.
to kneel down with him and ask God to for¬
give him and make him good ! It was a warmr
earnest prayer for a poor, fatherless boy. Sam.
Gordon was weeping when he rose np from
his knees, and promised, solemnly promised
Esquire Staples that he would never steal even
a peach again, and that he would leave all
bad company, be dutiful to his lonely mother,
and try to make a good man.
And he kept his promise. Esquire Staples
never told anybody about this night meeting,
but he gave Sam. many a nod of approbation,
and many a smile of encouragement when he
saw him trying to do well From that night
he dated all his good resolutions and the be¬
ginning of his success. In parting with
Joe Hunt's intimate society, he told him all
that the Esquire had said. Joe shook his head
and felt queer, and always took good care
never to get near Esquire Staples; and yet he
always stood to if. that if the Esquire had only
caught him, and talked to him, and urged him
to be good, he certainly should have done it!
Was not Joe like some who think that if
God had only elected them to salvation and
dragged them to it, they would have been
Christians !    Poor Joe!
A GREAT affliction from God is like a great
blast in a quarry,—it throws out great
treasures, or it opens a way for great proj cts.
I revere a man who is in great afflictions.
God seems to have selected him, like a piece
of second-growth t mber, for »n important
work. It is not every oue who can be trusted
to suffer greatly.