The Sunday School Advocate (April 13, 1878)
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ft nT | ———— will il —?\s2- uy hin _23a-~ | fli. @ VOLUME XXXVIU.—Nomeer 13. Ae Tet lak 3, 1878. Wuore Numser 917. Reading. | HIBS SSSNRRLIGQ \ \ \ \i = ing between the ‘AND so you do not jf) BAAN NN | ANS We SN \ great toe and the like to spell, i oe |||) NOTRE a \ LY == next, to either side YY Mary, my dear? Overy | \, WAN ‘ li it \ th ae : YZ aima\\ : A \it of the heel. To ac- Tis “ails ch trouble- | | 7 \\ ll | —— ae strap there is a di- some, you say, ae And you would rather vision in the; dapa- be at play. nese stockings, be- tween the first toe . and the next. There is no operation of fastening and loos- ening to be, gone ‘Then bring me all your books again ; Nay, Mary, why do you complain ? For as you do not CLT LEG) / tae DD: SLi FZ choose to read, COURS. ae through; and, in- h WOUND Mp = You shall not have Wht, Wig. Alea: . LG ity Tilly yin, deed, it is well that our books, indeed We Wap Zevcop Woy ' y ; VO ey there is not, as the . We Hi} ‘, ated tS wat é ‘ ; ‘*$o, as you wish to be | (a \\ ROS Japanese have fre- a dunce, Fi HIM GA Keak SS SF 1 N | Hee a NA x HUN | quently to put on Pray, go and fetch me \ WRN SS —— Fe NRW NN EN Z| 5 iY . ATA 3 \ g ES NN . twee and off their geta nem at once; i} fi A SSE2-_ —y SN Se MRA | aS . For if you will not " WDA Ors Yi, i ( i). Se ey YY) 1) Wis \\ 1 = during the day, learn to spell, ) 33)\ CSS 7 FEA W\\\_ SS : Yl ss NO) peso TRIS SS never on any ac- ” 2 ee? y P . i \ \ hy "Hf. 0 NS ss i NY \ S : io y : Tis vain to think of | SO Ws NES : \ | count wearing them “andine SM HOY fe P reading well. | \\ Uy: : = SSS RE indoors. For the “Do you not think | \We NNW ee Ay ZZ —_—= AS | $s house a_ lighter you'll blush to own, MAN : Yo teeny se ‘ SS SSN = straw kind of san- | sl | He dal is used, or none woman grown, mil —— | i Sy \ ‘I UML i . a atall. At our Mis- 4 M Ret | sion Church the ieee, ‘ia aeenih §=6pews are provided en §=6owith a rest under- | neath the seat for the reception of the geta, but the diffi- culty is to get them tothe seat. <A Jap- anese must either wear them, or carry them, or leave them at the door. Cus- tom forbids his wearing them up the aisle, and he is afraid to leave them at the door of a public building, lest they should be stol- there was a congre- en. Out of defer- gation of about : 'Zze= ee: 2 ence to himself he twenty, :. -atteutine; To oie eres See casera. cue, : rcgsc: ices aaneboaat may object to carry and orderly. There were other persons standing } wood, either of one solid piece about two or three them with him to the seat. It has been suggested at thedvoor. It was suggested that these would } inches thick, or of a thin sole-piece half an inch that a solution of the difficulty would be to have more readily enter but for their geta. The geta § thick, with two upright pieces let into ‘it: to an- } unboarded aisles, like the passages in a Japanese te wooden clogs worn by all Japanese when out 3 swer the purpose of the iron ring on English pat-} theater. There, I am told, the geta are worn all Oidoors, men and women alike, except by such as $ tens; and they are kept on the foot by means of a $} about the building, and doffed at the entrance to hay adopted European shoes. They are made of § soft cord which comes up from the fore part, pass- ; the sittings. Mr. Stout keeps a man at the en- Without one good ecx- : cuse to plead, That you have never learned to read ?”’ | When you become a_ Fil ! i {fj “QO, grandmother,” said Mary then, “Do let me have my books ayain ; Pll not fret any more indeed, If you will let me learn to read,”’ —Jane Taylor. Mission Work in Japan. The Shoe Difficulty. Ar the native service, 3:30 P. M.. - ” oO / =e * . = s
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ge acid Ata 2 the garret-window, and looked out. 10 trance to his church who receives the geta and tickets them, as the porters at our public build- ings in England receive umbrellas and sticks.— Church Missionary Intelligencer. Fighting the Fire on Old Gray-back. BY REV. E. A. RAND. JoE WixTon flattened his nose against a pane in It was, per- haps, half past nine in the evening, and he couldn’t see much, but to look out of the window before ‘‘turning in” was a habit that Joe had. Not much to turn into, that plain, old-fashioned bed- stead, squat on its stubby legs in the corner; but it had been Joe’s snug and comfortable home by night ever since he had been four years old, and he felt attached to it and the humble little garret chamber. I said that he went to the window and looked out. He looked right into the heart of the great forest back of the house, the forest that stretched up the side of Old Gray-back, the mountain. Then he looked over the forest. What was it he saw over in the east, as if a brush of gold had been drawn across the sky? Was it a streak of light above the woods ? . “Fire, Ido believe!” said Joe. ‘It pays to look out of the window, if the old folks do laugh at me. Guess Ill take a turn down stairs and step into the yard.” Stepping on tip-toe, that he might not disturb any of the sleepers in the house, he softly stole into the yard. It was acurious yard, with a lot of corners, and at every corner was some little build- ing—the corn-house, the hen-house, the tool-house, the wood-shed. Farther back toward the woods was the big barn. The Wilton family had lived on this place almost a hundred years, and, as occa- sion demanded, had stuck a building here and there. They might not be so very nice, but they would “hold suthin,” as Grandpa Wilton said, and that he ‘‘ reckoned ” was enough. Joe strode up and down the yard. ‘‘ Allright,” he said; ‘‘Nothing wrong here.” -Then he took a short walk down through the woods that skirted the base of the mountain. It was still, still in the woods, There were occasional open places among the pines. Above these spaces, just over the tree- tops apparently, the stars were faintly glowing, like candles stuck into the sky and lighting up for some ‘‘camp-meetin’” at which ‘‘the folks” might be expected any moment. ‘‘A little hazy overhead,” thought Joe, ‘or those stars would shine brighter, and I smell a— leetle smoke.” It boded no harm, however, for in the autumn the farmers burnt up considerable brush, and the atmosphere would be hazy and smoky. Joe went back to his attic chamber and looked out again. The light place above the woods was still there, but its brightness had somewhat dimmed. ‘* Well,”. reasoned Joe, “if it’s fire it can’t be much. I'll turn in and wait for morning.” In the morning Joe was out early among the pigmy-buildings in the yard. There was now a curtain of smoke dropping before the forest-pines. The wind had changed in the night, It was now playing directly from the east, the quarter in which Joe had seen the streak of light across the sky, and it blew alongan uncomfortable and ever-thick- ening quantity of smoke. Joe began to be anxious. Hark! What was that? A man on horseback came driving down the forest road, the horse’s hoofs pounding away, pounding away, as if he wanted to beat his message into every body’s brain, and the harder he beat the farther in it would go. OOOO ttt ll lO OO Ol ON OO ll ll lO OL ALE A AL AAALAC ALLA AL AA AL ALONLAL AL ALOAENAALALALONALE A, A LL AON LON Ot OO ll ON lll OL OOO LOO Nl ll el, The rider was Silas Eaton. His face was black with smoke, and he looked like Vulcan out ona morning ride. He reined in his horse before Joe, now standing with his father and Grandpa Wil- ton near the yard-gate. ‘* Neighbors! ” shouted Silas, for every body was a neighbor within ten miles, ‘‘I don’t like to ‘larm you, but I am afeard the fire is coming your way. We’ve been fighting it all night, some of us. We've been busy, I tell you. The wind has changed, bringing the fire over your way. Thought I would warn you. I must go and tell the folks above.” He turned, and his horse went pounding away as if to beat his message into the hearing of some one else. ‘*This looks skeery!” said Grandpa Wilton. ‘* We must all turn out and fight the fire.” ‘Sam and I will go and look after the little barn in the clearing,” said Joe, and he started to ‘hunt up Sam, the hired man at the Wilton place. ‘* And [ll go up the road into the woods,” said Mr. Wilton. ‘‘And [ll go too,” added Grandpa Wilton, stumping along energetically. ‘‘ Not too old to do something.” By noon they were all back, discouraged enough. The fire was raging along and nothing could stop it. They had seen the awful flames sweeping through the pines, swinging great garlands of fire from tree-top to tree-top. Then it would creep lower, and dart in every direction through the forest, as if thousands of fire-snakes were wrig- gling through the trees, leaping and twisting and hissing. Thenin one great burst of flame every thing would seem to be caught up, and the fire would mount and roar toward the heavens. What could bedone? They had tried to prevent the fire from crossing the forest roads, and they had started counter-fires, but all checks were as vain as a baby’s hands on the reins of a horse run- ning away. | When the family gathered at the farm-house again, it was asorry group. Smoke filled the air, and the heat made the place uncomfortable. ‘*Children,” said Grandpa Wilton, ‘‘I fear the old home must go. We'd better leave it and go farther down theroad. But we can do one thing. We can ask God to help us.” What a still, hushed group! The only sound be- sides the old man’s voice was that of the tall clock ticking in the corner. He reverently besought God to care for them and their homestead. Joe thought the old man looked like the pictures of Moses, with his long white beard touching his breast. y then began to pack up every thing possi- ble to be trausported to the top of a rocky, bar- ren hill an eighth of a mile away in anu old pasture. Joe was never so thankful before for ‘‘ rocks” on afarm. Nothing would burn there. ‘*Grandpa,” said Joe suddenly, as they were moving into the pasture, ‘don’t you think the wind has changed ?” . “What?” said grandpa eagerly. ‘*The wind changed ?” They stopped and tested the currents drawing above them. Joe was right. ‘‘The wind has changed! The wind has changed!” they shouted to those behind, and so it went triumphantly along the line of exiles. From the top of the rocky hill they could see the flames curling away toward another quarter. Eagerly they went back. Every thing was safe, and Old Brindle, the cow, who had made her way home from her distant pasture, stood in the barn- door and ‘‘mooed ” them a welcome home. When Joe was an old man, with hair as white as Grandpa Wilton’s, he sat by the farm-house SUNDAY-SBCHOOL ADVOCATE. hearth-stone, and told the children of the great fire in the woods, and how God swung the wind round to a safe quarter; and he thought grandpa’s prayer had something to do with the swinging of the wind. The Raven and the Ring. In a village near Warsaw there lived a pious peasant, by name Dobry. Without any fault of his own he had fallen into arrear with his rent, and the landlord determined to turn him out. It was winter, and evening, and the next day he was to be turned out, with all his family. As they sat in their sorrow, Dobry knelt down in their midst, and they sang,-— | “Commit thou all thy griefs And ways into His hands.”’ Just as they came to the last verse, — ‘When Thon wouldst all our need supply, Who then shall stay thy hand?” there was a knock at the window. It was an old friend, a raven, that Dobry’s grandfather had taken out of the nest, and tamed, and then set at liberty. Dobry opened the window; the raven hopped in, and in his bill there was a ring, set with precious stones. Dobry thought he would sell the ring; but he thought again that he would take and show it to his minister; and he, who saw at once, by the crest, that it belonged to King Stanislaus, took it to him, and related the story. The king sent for Dobry, and rewarded him so that he was no more in need; and the next year built him a new house, and gave him cattle from his own herd; and over the house door there is an iron tablet, whereon is engraved a raven with a ring in his beak, and underneath the verse, — ‘* Thou every-where hast sway, And all things serve Thy might; Thy every act pure blessing is, Thy path unsullied light!’ Anecdote of the Duke of Wellington. It was the habit of the Duke of Wellington to remain to take the sacrament in the church with the other communicants, however humble their lot in life, and however meanly they were dressed. On one occasion a poor, decrepid old man, who had been sitting on the opposite side to the duke, hap- pened to arrive at the communion table at the same moment at which Wellington came up. A. pew-opener who was present seemed to be shocked at the thought of a poor old villager taking the sacrament at the same time as the great duke, and so he hurriedly advanced to tell him to draw back. He touched the old man on the shoulder, and whispered in his ear, ‘*Do you not see the duke ? Draw back direct- ly until he has received the bread and wine !” The villager in great alarm would have instant- ly retreated, but the Duke of Wellington, who had witnessed the confusion into which he had been thrown, immediately came to the rescue. Clasp- ing the old man’s hand to prevent his rising from his kneeling position, he gently said, ‘Do not move; we are all equal here.” —_——____ ->-———_---— ‘‘Sine, sweet nightingale,” said a shepherd to the silent songstress on a lovely evening in spring. ‘‘Ah,” replied the nightingale, ‘‘the frogs make such a noise that I have lost all pleasure in singing; dost thou not hear them ?” ‘¢T hear them, indeed,” returned the shepherd, ‘*but thy silence is the cause of my hearing them.”
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SUNDAY-SCHOOL ADVOCATE Sunday-School Advocate. APRIL 18, 1878. J. H. VINCENT, Editor. J. M. FREEMAN, Assistant Editor, It Grows Worse. THIS was the honest confession of a boy who fell into a wrong habit. He knew it was wrong. He regretted it. He wept over it. He confessed it. In his way he fought against it. The fight was not always a hard nor a protracted one. Once in awhile he forgot to fight. Sometimes he fought but feebly, and with but half a heart. He yielded oftener than he resisted. In one of his hours of deep sorrow because of the wrong, he came to his father, to whom he had frankly confessed the whole matter before. ‘* Father,’’ said the dear fellow, his eyes full of tears, ‘‘I am sure it grows worse,”’ **T have large hope for you, my boy, because you feel this anxiety, and because you see that it grows worse. Sin always grows worse if we do not was it in the right way. ? ** But what is the right way ?”’ asked the boy eagerly. ** What is the right way to fight disease, my son?” **'That depends upon the disease.”’ ** Well, suppose it is some disease that you sce proves fatal with other people, and which you have tried in your § own way, by rest and dieting and the use of many reme- 3 dies, to cure? ”? *“T should go to my doctor,” ** What would you say to him ?” *“ Well, I should tell him what was the matter, and ask him for medicine.” ** After that, what?” ‘*T should take the medicine as he told me, and do every thing else that he directed.” ‘*Suppose you go to Dr. Blakewell about your sin.” ‘That would do no good,”’ said the boy. ‘‘ He could not cure my sin. He has no medicine for that.” ‘‘Has no one medicine for sc Is there no physician who can cure you?” ‘‘ Father, I see what you are after. you mean. But Jesus doesn’t seem real to me, like Dr. Blakewell. He is unseen, and not to be seen by our mor- tal eyes; how can I go to him?” ‘Your sin is real, is it not? The thoughts and feel- ings out of which it grows are real. You could easily enough stop the outward act if it were not for the in- ward and powerful feelings which come before the act.” ** Certainly,” said the boy, ‘‘there is my most serious trouble—my heart is wrong.” ‘You domt mean that your real heart, the heart that you can feel beating in your breast, you don’t mean that your physical heart, is unhealthy. You have no heuart- disease in that sense? ”’ ‘“Of course not. I mean that my spiritual heart, (I suppose you would call it,) my heart that loves and hates, that feels pleasure and pain, that resolves and desires and suffers—I mean that this heart is diseased. It loves sin. It chooses sin. It yields to sin.” ‘**‘That heart which you now describe is very veal, al- though you do not see it, and although it is not a phys- ical or ‘real’ thing. Do you not think so, my son?” “Well, yes, if that is real which brings ache and sor- row and discouragement and fear,” **Now, my precious boy, take your unseen but real sin and sorrow to the unseen but real Physician. To do it you need not go anywhere, He is here. You need not seeany thing. You do not see the sinful heart you want to have cured. You must think. You must read in the Bible ubout Christ, that you may think true thoughts about him. You must think prayers to him. Talk to him, tell him all about the trouble. TZrusthim. Obey him.”’ “Tf I could only feel that he is real!’ said the boy. ‘** By feeling your need and by this kind of thinking, talking, trusting and obeying, you will soon feel the reality of Jesus Christ the Saviour from sin. In the meantime take your troubles to him in the moment of temptation, then, thinking about him, resist. He will help you!” ‘*T am glad you have said these things to me, father. I will try, but wont you help me?” The father folded the boy to his heart, and while both wept the father prayed. an I understand what ‘One thing,’ said the boy, **I have been afraid of. It is that God would hate me for mysin. Butif you love me like this, father, wont God also love me?” *“‘Tlove you, my darling boy, and hate your sin,.and God is a father. We need not be afraid of him. He hates sin and loves us. As you come to me, go to him. Talk to him. Trust him.”’ From this little talk with his father the boy found strength. And the boy’s father, when he was alone, said, ‘*O my Father in heaven! dost thou love me as I love my boy ? Then will I trust thee more.” And from this little talk with his boy the father also found strength. Stop and Think. Way will boys persist in chasing and catching butter- flies 2 What pleasure is there in bruising and battering a poor, delicate creature, whose very belpianiene ought to give it a claim to safety ? | Sallie could not bear to hurt any living creature. Whenever Tom was cross to his dog and beat him, as he sometimes did, Sallie’s brown eyes would fill with tears, and her pleasure was quite destroyed. Tom was not more cruel than most boys, but he was very impul- sive, and did not often stop to think. A deal of wrong-doing might be avoided if boys would ouly stop to think before they act. Such a beautiful bluebird was that that Bertie killed the other day, only because he did not stop to think how reckless was the wrong he inflicted when he aimed his sharp arrow at the pretty, innocent singer. Such a cruel blow was that that Alfred gave Jamie, be- cause he wouldn’t stop to think whether or not he might be mistaken in supposing Jamie had tied the grass that tripped him up. And after all Jamie was entircly blame- less. O what is this thoughtlessness of which young people, and oid, too, are so often guilty, but utter selfish- ness ? For a moment of self-will or self-indulgence in wrong- doing how many hours of suffering are brought upon ourselves and others! ‘I didn’t think” is a poor, piti- ful, mean excuse. It makes nothing better. It heals no hurt. It rights no wrong. Tom will catch the poor, fluttering, tired butterfly. He will stun it with his hat, crush its frail plumage with his fingers, bruise its delicate body, in short, spoil its simple joy of life, and hasten its death—for what? Just a moment of aimless, unthinking, selfish pleasure. And Sallie, who so hopes he will not be able to catch the poor thing, whose beauty as it flits from flower to flower is a joy to her, stands anxiously awaiting the end. She will shed tears if Tom hurts or tears the wings of the pretty butterfly. Ah, Tom! if you would only stop and think, you would surely conclude that your moment of pleasure could not be worth the pain your wanton act is sure to cause. Life is full of temptation. Boys, stopand think! Yes, aes = A , , == VWs Wy, = y " (Fy NY 4 i 4, ‘ , " , in hy hy A? y . 4 My) SS Whi f Ww = =| ; }} ‘) ] 1 / A Als it) / S j) A 2 a y ™, a —. / 45 ONY MY, // > A VA Pi S — A } //! Lp \\ yy i / f / Ye Ce) ayy) : ~ hp . g 2 r = s, fi V4 IZ a : —s Z a pay \ \ fi Z 1 HANA be ‘ ) EY YZ i Le Ga DY i Zs ip l \ ~ a 7 i} Yee Ne i yi \: Ye TS Oe \ ha if, wot o A ; Yj SA: Z ; | | Ys 4 { 2 - th / fs 47 4 = tJ i! > M >J | yj I] 1 — Le) - \ > >is A\} i Ld « } a fi j, y \ f A % “ ; Z i y * 4 f \ , Ny A y ( ; ; \ A. = 4 ft ~—=>> = ; Zs = Ni a = a ZZ 2 — ’ z rs Z L <~— . » 5 —~" ; o1 ‘Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.’? Too late will be your wailing cry, ‘‘O, if I had only stopped to think!” Be warned in time. Now is the time to think. Now is the time to count the cost. Now is the time to decide whether you will go through life thought- less—which, you know, is selfish—or whether you will live for others, finding your own happiness in deeds of kind- ness and unselfishness, taking thought for the things of each other, Stop, dear boys, stop and think! The Pope’s Triple Crown. ee LIKE the crowns of sovereigns, the papal tiara is sump- tuously adorned with precious stones, the most promi- nent of which is a splendid diamond. Rich as it is, how- ever, it is far from equaling those—about ten in number so Aabiglh were possessed by the Vatican. The number of these tiaras hus been going on inereasing since Pope Boniface VIII., and each surpasses its predecessor in value. Financial difficulties more than once foreed the Popes to sell the jewels sct in these crowns, in order to pay their debts. At the accession of Pepe Pius VII. there was only one left; the only papal tiara at the Vati- can was a pasteboard one, with imitation jewels. After the Concordat, about 1801, Napoleon I. made Pius VII. au present of a new tiara. It is the same that is now used, und was valued at 220,000 franes. Its cupola consists of eight rubies, twenty-four pearls, and one emerald. The cross is composed of twelve brilliants; the tails are studded with rubies and pearls. The gold cords serve to fix the tiara on the head of the Pope, who, by the way, scarcely ever wears it. This tiara was carefully concealed in 1848, and only taken out of its hiding-place after the French troops had entered Rome. The prin- cipal diamond of the papal tiara has a history attached to it which begins from Charles the Bold, Duke of Bur- gundy. This prince had a passion for jewelry, and there was not a wealthier man than he in the fifteenth century. Whenever he was engaged in a campaign, his gold and silver vessels, his diamonds and jewels, invariably ac- companied him. Now, having been beaten by the Swiss at Grandson, he fled, leaving his treasure on the field of battle, and among them three beautiful diamonds. The first was discovered by a soldier under a cart. It was — the largest and most valuable, having been sold to the Duke of Burgundy by the great Mogul. The lucky finder, not having the slightest idea of the valuc of the stone, flung it into a field; but, repenting of this act, picked it up again, and sold it for a crown to a ~ priest, who resold it for three to a Bernese citizen. The. latter, who was better informed, disposed of it for 5,000 ducats. It passed through other hands for 7,000, and was purchased for 14,000 by the Duke of Milan, Ludo- vico il Moro, who sold it to Pope Julius II. for 20,000 ducats. The second diamond is the well-known Sancy, and the third adorns the crown of Austria, and is valued at 3,000,000 francs. —TZhe Christian Guardian. — The Good Scholar. DEAN STANLEY says: ‘“‘ Two things together are the very model of a good scholar. First, you must listen. You must hear; you must be silent; you must be atten- tive. We can never hope to gain real wisdom or knowl- edge unless we are willing to be taught, unless we look out for instruction, unless we fix our minds. He who is always talking without listening to what others say; he who is always asking questions without waiting for an answer; he who allows his mind to wander from one thing to another; he who thinks he is wiser than his teachers, and cleverer than his companious ; he who does not look up to what is above himself, whether old or young, is not learning as Jesus Christ learned. We must, also, be good askers of questions.” A DAUGHTER of the great Dr. Chalmers dwells in a low-roofed building on a street in Edinburgh, crowded with dwellings of the poor anc intemperate, to whose welfare she devotes her life. Her influence over her neighbors is said to be marvelous.—LHauchange. In Bengal the Bible has been introduced into the pub- lic schools. The Calcutta Bible Society offered to sup- ply all the State schools with copics of the Scriptures, The offer was accepted, and now it is used as a text-book. —LHuxchange.
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~ be pe MM I [Answers to questionsin the Bay WINDOw, and all letters designed for it, may be ad- dressed to Miss MartHA VAN MARrTER, Box 121, Station D, New York.) WE have something very nice for you to-day, children—a letter from a dear old lady, who will tell you how many years she has lived in this pleasant world, and how peice- fully she is wditing her call to the heavenly land. Dear little friends, do you want to keep your hearts young and fresh ? Then begin in early life to love and serve the blessed Saviour, and, like this. sweet friend, who you will be able to say, when old age comes on, if God spares you to see it, that you, too, are enjoying ‘* the smooth things.”’ ** Dear Children: IT am seventy-eight years old. When I was a little girl, we had no Sunday-school. We had day-schools, The first I went to was in a log-cabin. The next was in the woods under the trees, with a pole pen for our house, and one of Daniel Boone’s battlefields for our playground. Here we would pick up flint ar- rows and stone axes made by Indians, and look on the heaps of stones where lay the white or red men slain in that dreadful battle. This always made us feel sad. We would then climb the high hills and gather wild flowers and cedar branches, or stroll along the shore of Licking River, for this was at the Lower Blue Licks, or salt works, in Kentucky. Here we would pick up curious ‘pebbles and beautiful shells. When books were called, we left our play and ran to our books. We all loved each other, and we were happy children. ‘But you had no Sunday-school; how did you know when Sunday came, and about God, and heaven, and the Saviour, and all that?’ Well, we learned something about that too, for this pen with only one pole at aside, was our meet- ing-house for this part of the circuit. Two short logs with a plank on them formed the pulpit. Here the preachers would tell us about Jesus and all these ood things. Now, children, I must tell you a little story, which is a true one, about the first Bible I ever saw. A few days before my father emigrated from the city of New York, he was walking in the street when he met the gentleman who was god-father to my oldest brother. He said, ‘Garret, you are going away to that far-off wil- derness where I shall never see little George again. Take this, (putting a gold coin into his hand,) and buy something nice for him asa keepsake from me.’ Father took it, and, as he walked away, he said, ‘If I buy toys or fine clothes, he is only five years old, and will soon spoil them. I will get a family Bible for him; that will be better.” The purchase was made, and O how pleased mother was, and little George too! Father, mother, brother, sister, and the keepsake were all landed in the new world, avd as the children of the family grew, we were all taught out of this book to love and obey God’s word. At this time I was the youngest of five children, _ and a very little girl, and when ma would call the older ones around her to read and talk to them, I would feel very jealous and say to myself, ‘Ma might talk some to me; she thinks Iam too young to know any thing, but I understand all she says.’ After she would get through I would ask her to let me have thé Bible awhile, I said, *I will be very careful with it, and will sit down by you.’ In this she would indulge me. I was a child, and had childish thoughts. I would call it my picture book, aud fancy Isaw Adam in the garden, and Noah in the ark, and Moses crossing the Red Sea, and Joshua and the priests standing with their feet in the water while the Israclites passed over Jordan, and David killing the big giant. Then I would turn it into a store-house, having the leaves for the shelves and the words for the goods. The words God, Jesus, und heaven, I called my most val- uable goods, and would charge my customers more for them than for any of the rest. O how I loved the Bible, and longed for the time when I could read it! and now, that I can read it, do you suppose I think it any the less a picture book, or store-house? No, indeed, for I can see brighter pictures and richer goods in it than ever; and although we have not an earthly god-father to give sends you these words of greeting, ° PPD PB BLOB LP BPD LPPBLLP_!PODP™aOP9PPBPPOP™__LPLOVLPPPP™HP PP OD PL AAO Ol A AA Nl NNN NAA NL EAA NA At > ~ us a Bible, yet God, our heavenly Father, has given us one, and for a keep-sake, too, for in it he says, ‘ Remem- ber now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.’ I have lived through the rough and am enjoying the smooth things. And, after all, I have enjoyed the Sunday-school for over forty years. How happy it makes me fecl to have the honor, yes—the honor—of sitting in the midst of my class of seven young ladies, with our Bibles in our hands! and then, look at all the young ladies and gen- tlemen, and old ones too, and little boys and girls with their Bibles and Testaments in their hands. What a beautiful sight it is! And, children, how I love to hear you sing! But the hour will soon come when I hope to hear the Saviour say, ‘It is enough, come up higher.’ ” PUZZLE BOX. CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. My first is in bear, but not in cow, My second is in quarrel, but not in row; My third is in short, but not in long, My fourth is in carol, but not in song; My fifth is in right, but not in wrong, » My sixth is in Germany, but tot in Russia; And my whole is the name of a city in Prussia, FRANK W. COLE. ; DROP-LETTER PUZZLE. eee 8. F.T. N.S. WLR. T.R.N.T.H. W.Y. WOR. 1.08; Beh. So. 9. 8. WOR. D. Sond. TOR. CP. N. G. R. Supply vowels and find a proverb, JENNIE HOLT. SQUARE WORD. 1. Asmall particle. 2. A measure of duration. 3. A sign. 4. To repair. W. D, Rorkr. EASY ENIGMA. I am composed of seven letters. My 42 Sis a tree. My 8567istolabor. My 712 3 is a verb. My whole is one of the States of the Union. . CARRIE S. SCRIPTURAL PUZZLE. o Who ean teli the name that one gave to his wife, A name sometimes said to mean life ? But while it means life, alas! we must refer ‘The terrible curse of death to her! Would you kuow my secret, And learn my hidden name ? Read me back or forwards ’T will always be the same. “ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN ADVOCATE OF FEB. 9. Double Acrosfic : A-vai-L, B-arzilla-I, R-obi-N, A-nti-C, H-al-O, A-ppea-L, M-arte-N—Abraham Lincoln. Cross- Word Enigma: Gennesaret. Square Word: Ring, Idea, Neat, Gate. Easy Enigma: Henry Clay. Curtailments: Aueust-a, Pear-l, Bat-h, For-t, Colon-y. Complete sets of answers have been received from Joseph Rea, W. F. Kommer, W. D. Rorer, V. E. Rorer, George P. Schaeffer. Poor Lit-tle Jim. Jrmm was al-ways pale and thin, and oft-en he was cold and hun-gry. His fath-er was dead, and her lit-tle boy; so poor Jim had a hard life. One day he ran a-cross the street to get some wa-ter for his moth-er. His bare feet were cold, and he was weak and sick. He did not see or hear the gay horses that were com-ing, and so down he fell un-der their feet, and the car-riage wheels ran o-ver his poor legs, and he was tak-en home to die ! ‘Poor lit-tle Jim !” do you say? No, rich lit- good Friend in heav-en has reached out his kind hand to take the tired, sad boy right in-to a bright and bless-ed home, where he will nev-er be sick or lone-ly a-gain ! 3 Just be-fore Jim went a-way he said, ‘‘I knew some-bod-y loved me !” and those who heard him said, ‘‘His mind isn’t right. He doesn’t know what he is say-ing.”’ Yes, Jim’s mind was right. Some-bod-y did love him, and so some-bod-y took care of him ! dl ——q———————— We live no more of our time than we spend well.— Caryle. eo his moth-er loved strong drink more than she loved’ tle Jim; hap-py lit-tle Jim; for now his great and rwocknTs each. Less than six copies, Forty CENTS each. SUNDA Y-SCHOOL ADVOCATE. I-dle Hat-tie. ‘*O pEAR ! I have to work all the time,” said Hat-tie La-cy ina cross tone. ‘‘I wish I could play like oth-er girls !” This was not true; Hat-tie had a great deal of time to play, but when her mam-ma want-ed her to help a lit-tle, she oft-en grew cross, and spoke words that were not true or kind. Hat-tie must not do so, if she does not want to be-come an i-dle, self-ish woman ! Send-ing Love by the Sun. A LITTLE boy who had been care-ful-ly ed-u- cat-ed to a mis-sion-a-ry spirit, show-ed his in- ter-est in the heath-en on the oth-er side of the world in a beau-ti-ful and novel man-ner, . One even-ing at sun-set, aft-er a storm of sev- eral days’ con-tin-u-ance, he was at-tract-ed by the un-usu-al-ly beau-ti-ful ap-pear-ance of the west-ern sky, and stood by the west win-dow some time watch-ing. All at once re-mem-ber-ing what his moth-er had told him, that the sun rose in China as it set on his home, he be-gan to re-peat in a low, med-i-ta-tive tone, ‘‘Fare-well, sun, fare- well, sun! Good-bye! Give my love to the lit- tle boys in China.” A Crook-ed Heart. A HEART that turns a-side from God may be called a crook-ed heart. God must look with pit-y and sor-row up-on such a heart? How may a lit-tle child make his heart crook-ed? By not lov-ing, be-liev-ing, and o-bey-ing God! O, it is a sad thing to be turned away from God! Dear chil-dren, ask God to help you grow up straight to-ward him. For a Little Girl. ‘*Our Heav-en is every-where If we but love the Lord, Be-lieve his truth, and trust his grace, And lean up-on his word.”’ Pro-fane Lan-guage. Ir is re-lat-ed of Dr. Scud-der, that on his re- turn from his mis-sion in In-di-a, after a long ab- sence, he was stand-ing on the deck of a steam-er with his son, a youth, when he heard a gen-tle- man us-ing loud and pro-fane lan-guage. ‘‘ See, friend,” said the doc-tor, scasebiee We swear-er ; ‘this boy, my son, was born and brought up ina heath-en coun-try and a land of pa-gan i-dol-a-try, but in all his life he nev-er heard a man blas-pheme his Ma-ker un-til now.” The man _ col-ored, vlurt-ed out an a-pol-o-gy, and looked not a lit-tle a-shamed of him-self.” ee SO ee ee we ‘*Be good and kind and pa-tient, Be lov-ing, sweet and true; And seek the Sav-iour’s bless-ing On all you say or do.” THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL ADVOCATE. Published simultaneously at New York and Cincinnati on the second and fourth S&iturdays of each month, Subscriptions may commence with April, July, October, or Janu- ary. Buta subscriptions must expire with September or March, Those commencing with April or October may run si@ or twelve months. Those commencing with July or January may run three or nine months. TERMS—per annum :; Six copies or over to one address, Tuirty- This includes the postage, which the publishers are obliged to prepay. - Orders may be sent to Nxrson & Puituies, New York; Hrreu- oock & WALDEN, Cincinnati and Chicago; J. P. Magner, Boston; H. H. Oris, Buffalo; J. Horner, Pittsburgh; J. B. Hitt, San Fran- cisco, Cal.; Rev. J. B. M’CutLtoven, Philadelphia; PerKinPing & Huieeins, Philadelphia; D. H. Carrouu, Baltimore. All communications designed for publication should be addressed to the Editor, Rev. J. H. Vincrnt, 805 Broadway, New York, Box 121, Station D.