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courage her mother to try to bear up oneis dark and cold, and if he is exposed, he night longer, and hope for better luck on will certainly freeze. He cannot talk sufthe morrow.
ficiently to tell where he belongs. I am We leave them in their misery to return afraid some dreadful accident has already to Mr. D . The contrast between the
befallen him!" two dwellings is great, although the dis Each member of the family and their tance is but a few rods.
friends, far and near, were immediately Mr. D— thought no more of the beg
despatched in search of the unfortunate gar-girl; he supposed she might be an im
runaway; but no traces of him could be postor, or might not ; at any rate, he did
found, and such a night of terrible suspense not care to be annoyed by her, and he felt
the parents of the child never before sus. that he had put a final stop to her solicita fered. tions, so far as he was concerned.
Morning came, however, and with it the We have said that Mr. D— had a little
bright sunshine which made everything boy. He was the idol of his parents, and a look cheerful, save the countenances of the general pet among the servants; and they
troubled parents of little Josey. They had were frequently in the habit of taking him
lost not a moment in search of the missing with them when they went out upon er
child, but as yet no tidings of him had been rands in the streets. The man-servant was
heard. About the middle of the forenoon, going out towards night, and he said to the
the friends all returned, and almost gave up little fellow, jestingly,
the search as hopeless. In an agony of de“ Josey, do you want to go with me?" spair, the naturally hard-hearted Mr. D “ Oh, yes," said the favourite, and ran
threw himself upon his couch and weft for his hat.
aloud; while his wife was in a state bor“ But stop,” said John, “ I did not say
dering on distraction. I would take you along with me. It is late, Presently there was a report in circulaand too cold. The next time I go, I will tion that a poor woman and little girl had take you."
been found frozen to death in a miserable It was with some difficulty, however, that dwelling not far distant from Mr. D- 's he pacified him ; he started, leaving, as he residence. When the news reached the thought, Josey at home; but he was no wretched man's ears, he started to his feet sooner gone than the little fellow ran out, as if struck with some terrible shock. Such unnoticed by the family, and followed him. things were not uncommon, yet Mr. DHe was not quick enough to overtake the was not in the babit of taking notice of such servant, and on entering the street, he took reports. a wrong direction. In a few moments he But now it seemed as if some unearthly was wandering away from home, not know impulse urged him forward! He seized ing whither he went, and with nothing to his hat, rushed from the house, and hasshield him from the severe cold but his tened to the spot, where there was a crowd little hat, which he had thrown hastily upon collected round the door. It was but a few his head.
moments' walk from his dwelling, but the It was late in the evening when the ser street where it was located bore a very difvant returned, and the family were feeling ferent aspect. very anxious about little Josey, as he was It was a narrow, filthy lane, and the old, never allowed to be out in the evening; dilapidated buildings, with their broken but, supposing he was safe with their trusty windows and doors, shewed that there must servant, they waited patiently for his re be suffering there, if in such a place human turn. We can judge of the surprise and in beings could even exist at all. He was creased anxiety of the parents, when the shewn through a narrow passage-way to a servant returned without him.
low back room, which was made for a cel" Why, John," exclaimed Mr. D , lar, but which at present was the only tene“ what have you done with Josey ?"
ment of a miserable family. “ Indeed, Sir, I left him at home, and have There was a fire-place in one corner, not seen him since,” said the affrighted which contained nothing but a little ashes, servant.
and a heap of worn-out straw in another “ What in Heaven's name has befallen corner, on which lay the bodies of the unmy child? He is lost. Haste, quick, to fortunate victims. the crier's, and search the city for him : it There were various articles of ragged
1 and walk the streete day after day, enquiring for his little boy of every one he met!
He was never known to turn away a beggar again from his door, but he would frequently buy bread and carry it with him to distribute among the poor, as he met them about the streets.
Sometimes he would hire people to go about the streets with him in search of his little “ runaway,” as he called him. In this way he spent many years, and his friends indulged him as long as he was quiet ; but at length he became so mad that they were obliged to confine him, and he ended his miserable existence in an insane asylum.
Thus ends the sad history of one who, by a single act of unkindness, sacrificed his own life, with that of his beloved wife and idolized child ! “ He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord ;" and happy is the man who hath such a debtor. No one is safe from accidents; and he who lends to the poor, knows not how soon he may have the favour returned fourfold; for none is so rich but that some day he may be grateful for the services of even a little beggar.
clothing thrown over them, on removing in which, there proved to be another child,
smaller than the little girl ! b. The woman lay with her arms clasped
around both the children, and it was evident, from their position, that she had drawn them closely to her bosom, in the endeavour to keep them warm from the heat of her own body; but it was more than she was able to do, with the severity of the weather, and she had met with them her untimely end. The three were frozen dead.
As soon as their faces were exposed, Mr. D— was the first to recognize the bodies. The first was the poor little beggar-girl ; and, with a glance at the other child, he gave a shriek which would have pierced the heart of a stone, stood aghast a moment, and then fell heavily on the floor! One glance shewed that it was his own child!
No one was left to tell the story, but to the father's mind the sad truth was apparent.
The little frozen hand of his cherished boy still held a crust of bread-the only article of food there was to be seen in the room! It were vain to attempt to depict the multitude of agonizing thoughts which crowded the distracted father's brain, in that terrible moment: words fail to describe them! He contrasted the character of the little beggar's heart with his own. He thought of her whom he had turned penniless from his door, who, pitying his little son, had evidently taken him in from the street, and shared with him her last morsel, and then striven to shield him from the cold by nestling him in her own bosom ! He had refused her the means of saving the life of his darliug son, and he was the murderer !
It was too much for human nature. Mr. D w as borne home senseless, and for
many days he merely shewed signs of life, but not of reason. The body of little Josey was taken bome by the friends, and buried, but the parents never saw it.
The mother, from the effect of the shock, fell into a fever, from which she never recovered. Mr.
D a t length recovered his bodily health and strength, but he never was a man again. He would frequently have seasons of raving, and would call for his child in the most piteous manner, saying that they had hidden little Josey from him; that he was not dead, but they were keeping him in suspense, only to torture him! At other times he would be calm,
THE CHILD ANGEL.
“She did but float a little way
Her slender sail
Ne'er felt the gale;
And putting to the shore,
To dwell with us no more.
Oh, stern word, nevermore." How few whose names are written wife, mother, have any idea or understanding of the solemn responsibilities resting upon them in these relations! A few years of butterfly existence-the finish given at a fashionable boarding-school, a short wooing, a gay bridal, a gayer honeymoon, and the young creature seats herself at last by her own hearthstone, and wonders if lise is all a holiday.
Such a one comes up to my recollection ; the life of the social circle in which she moved, always carrying sunshine wherever
she went, merry-hearted as a bird, thoughtless of the morrow; light, air, motion, all sources of the keenest enjoyment, roving like the bee from flower to flower, extract, ing only honey; sensitive, ardent, impulsive, warm-hearted, but "remembering not her Creator,” lacking the “one thing needful.” I loved her, as did all who knew her, for the world had not yet spoiled her frank and generous nature; but with all that wealth of feeling, and without the guiding-star of religion, I could only say, “May God keep her !"
Her husband was, like herself, fond of the gay world, but fully able to appreciate the strong, deep love she bore him.
A babe was given her. With a flood of joyful tears she welcomed it. At once she became the self-sacrificing, patient, enduring mother. You could not have charmed her away from that babe's cradle, “ charmed you never so wisely." Concerts, parties, balls, were alike forgotten; her chief joy was to watch those tiny features to caress that fragile form. The gay, ringing laugh was heard less frequently-a sweet, calm seriousness marked her whole demeanour. She would sit for hours gazing on its cherub face with moistened eyes. Years passed on. The child grew up a delicate, fragile thing, with large, thoughtful, earnest eyes, through which the soul seemed ever speaking; moved to tears by a strain of sweet melody, or the gorgeous beauty of the sunset cloud-caring naught for the sports of childhood, but, like the child Saviour, “hearing and answering questions."
The love and devotion of Alice for her mother almost amounted to idolatry. At night her fairy hand was outstretched from the little bed, to rest in that of her mother. By day she was ever at her mother's side, with her book, or with those large brown eyes fixed on her mother's face, intensely interested in her conversation. When there were visitors, she would take a seat in some quiet corner, never losing a word, pondering all she heard. If any one advanced an opinion different from the views expressed by her mother, Alice would timidly venture forth and say, “I don't think it can be so ; my mother doesn't think so;" or, “I'm sure you are right, for I've heard my mother say so.” On these occasions an expression of seriousness, almost amounting to distress, would settle upon the mother's face, and her eyes would often fill with tears.
I watched that mother and child with the most intense interest. I looked for the
time when all this weight of responsibility should lead her to the foot of the cross. I saw (with spiritual eyes) this child angel invisibly drawing her thither. Nor did I look long, nor in vain. One morning she came to me with a burst of tears, and said, “Oh, teach me how to go with that child to heaven!" I told her simply, earnestly, her duty; she listened with eager interest; nay, more-for, God be thanked, my prayer was heard-she tried hard to perform it.
And now, little Alice's mission on earth being accomplished, the mother's new-born faith and trust in God were to be put to the trial. The Good Shepherd called her lamb gently to his fold. The little feet faltered the large eyes grew dim. With a flood of bitter tears the mother cried, “If it be possible, let this cup pass from me?" But grace prevailed, and as she closed the child's eyes in death, I heard her pallid lips say, “Not my will, but Thine be done,”
Since then the grave has closed over the husband of her youth; poverty, suffering, and trial have marked her pathway, and now she can look back and see the kindness of her heavenly Father in thus early sheltering the little shrinking lamb from the storm and the tempest. “ Full short their journey was; no dust
Of earth anto her sandals clave;
She bore not to the grave.
And wandered hither; so her stay
That she should be no delver in earth's clod,
To stand before her God."
THE ACTRESS. One day an actress belonging to a theatre in
was going through one of the streets in that place, when her attention was attracted by the sound of voices in a poor cottage before her. Curiosity prompted her to look in at the open door, when she saw a few poor people sitting together, one of whom, at the moment of her observation, was giving out the following hymn, which the others joined in singing :
“ Depth of mercy! can there be
The tune was sweet and simple, but she 1 supposing her to be overcome by embarrassľ heeded it not. The words had riveted ment, the band again commenced. A se- her attention, and she stood motionless, cond time they paused for her to begin, but ļ until she was invited to enter, by the woman she did not open her lips. A third time the
of the house, who had observed her stand air was played, and then, with clasped 5 ing at the door. She complied, and re hands, and eyes suffused with tears, she
mained during a prayer which was offered sang, not the words of the song, but, up by one of the little company; and, un
“Depth of mercy! can there be couth as the expressions sounded, perhaps,
Mercy still reserved for me?" to her ears, they carried with them a con
It was almost needless to add, that the iction of sincerity, on the part of the per
performance was suddenly ended. While : son who used them.
many ridiculed, some were led, from that She left the cottage, but the words of the memorable night, to "consider their ways," hymn followed her. She could not banish and to reflect on the wonderful power of } them from her mind; and at last she re that religion which could so influence the to solved to procure the book which contained
heart, and change the life, of one hitherto 1 it. She did so, and the more she read it, so vain and so evidently pursuing the road
the more decided her serious impressions that leadeth to destruction. became. She attended the ministry of the
It will be satisfactory to the reader to gospel, read her hitherto neglected and de know, that the change in Miss was spised Bible, and bowed herself in humility as permanent as it was singular; she walked and contrition of heart, before Him whose consistently with her profession of religion mercy she now felt she needed, whose sacri
for many years, and at length became the i fices are those of a broken and contrite
wife of a minister of the gospel of our Lord spirit, and who has declared, that with such Jesus Christ. sacrifices he is well pleased. Her profession she determined at once
A CONTRAST. and for ever to renounce; and, for some little time, excused herself from appearing on the A court-room in one of our large cities is stage, without, however, disclosing her thronged with a dense mass of spectators. change of sentiments, or making known her From floor to ceiling rises one crowded resolution finally to leave it.
array of anxious faces. The room is as The Manager of the theatre called upon silent as death. A human being is on his her one morning, and requested her to sus trial for life, and his advocate is just rising tain the principal character in a play which to make his last defence. Mark the carewas to be performed the next week for his fulness with which he reviews the testimony. benefit. She had frequently performed
Mark the intense solicitude with which he this character to general admiration ; but avails himself of every symptom of feeling she now, however, told him her resolution in the jury-box. And, as he draws near the never to appear as an actress again, at the close of his argument, see how his hand same time giving her reasons. At first he trembles, how his face is flushed, how his attempted to overcome her scruples by ridi whole frame is shaking under the weight cule, but this was unavailing ; he then re of an overwhelming solicitude, too great presented the loss he should incur by her even for utterance. Is he too earnest ? Is refusal, and concluded his arguments by his appeal too impassioned and fervid ? promising, that if, to oblige him, she would Look at that wretched criminal with his act on this occasion, it should be the last quivering lip, and let him answer! Look request of the kind he would ever make. at that pale wife, and that group of children, Unable to resist his solicitations, she pro all waiting in agonizing suspense for the mised to appear, and on the appointed fate of a husband and a father! Ask that evening went to the theatre. The charac breathless bystander, and he will answer, ter she assumed required her, on her first “No! he cannot be too earnest; the life of entrance, to sing a song; and when the cur a fellow being is at stake; if he manifested tain drew up, the orchestra immediately any less solicitude, he would not only be began the accompaniment. But she stood wanting in professional fidelity, but even as if lost in thought, and as one forgetting lacking the ordinary feelings of humanity." all around her, and her own situation. The When the next Sabbath comes, you meet music ceased, but she did not sing; and, that same bystander in the house of God, Around you are a large company of travel- i has been delivered, and the minister of ers to eternity. Some of them are ignorant. Christ has returned to his closet, to Some of them are careless and indifferent. mourn there that he did not plead bis A large portion of them are enemies of Master's cause yet more earnestly, where God, with the whetted sword of Almighty are his auditors ? How many heard his wrath already hanging over them. As the message? How many gave heed to it? minister of Christ casts his eye over his How many remembered it until they reachaudience, he sees many who are utterly ed their own dwellings? Well will it be if “ without hope," and if death were suddenly some did not retire to mock and sneer at to overtake them, he knows that they must it all as the effusion of crazy enthusiasm, sink to eternal darkness, and the undying or of fanatical bigotry. The modern Festus, worm. Even to - morrow some of those who applauded the eloquent advocate in the hearers may be wrapped in their shrouds, court-room, pronounces this man “mad;" and tbeir souls be in another world!
and even many a frigid professor thinks that Weighed down with the tremendous re the worthy preacher was somewhat“ beside sponsibility that rests upon him, the herald himself," from the ardour of his emotion. of the cross proclaims his message, with If such painful contrasts sink the souls of strong cryings and tears. Every argument God's ministers here into sorrow, and wellthat could be drawn from thundering Sinai nigh to despair, how must they appear to or darkened Calvary, from an open heaven those who behold them from another world? or a yawning hell, is presented from a How must they appear to a saint in bliss, or soul breaking with solicitude for dying to a lost soul in the world of woe ? men. And when the message of love
ON WOMAN SPEAKING IN THE
CHURCH.* Our correspondent, Elizabeth, in the October number of “The Church," has endeavoured to establish the right of woman to “speak in the church.” She seems aware that she is apparently flatly contradicting the apostle Paul, but endeavours to shew that he could not mean what nearly all readers of the Scriptures understand him to mean. The Society of Friends, with their fundamental notion that all speaking in the church is to be by special motion of the Holy Spirit, are hardly in opposition to the apostle, or even christians generally, since all would allow that is the Holy Spirit commanded to speak, the authority was ample for doing so. The general injunction of the Spirit through Paul, would be held to be superseded by a particular monition for a special case. The prayers and praises of the pious women she mentions have certainly no correspondence with women "speaking in the church ;" partly, they were all, apparently, special promptings of the Divine Spirit, and, with
| the exception of Anna's, they do no: appear
to have been uttered in the assembly of the people. Anna, however, is expressly termed a prophetess, and appears to have been recognized as such by the people generally. The woman of Samaria certainly did not "speak in the church," and, at best, merely called the attention of the people to a miracle which she alone had witnessed. The usefulness of pious women in the conversion of sinners, has been generally, we apprehend, in that retired and modest way which so befits the sex; but even if her speaking in public has been thus blessed in some instances, it would not, by any means, prove that God sanctioned such agency. How often has an outrageous in Adel remark, or some expression of an ungodly man, been the means of awakening a new life in the hearts of others.
But Elizabeth appears to think that her strong point is, the impossibility of Paul's pressing a commandment of the law against the distinct promise of Joel, adverted to in Acts ii. 17, 18, that “daughters and handmaids" should prophesy. Paul, therefore,
* We have received several pieces on this subject, which we should have been glad if we could have used, but as they arrived late, after the following article was written, and as they all express sub. stantially the same views, the writers will agree with us that it would be unnecessary to prolong the discussion by inserting them.