CHAPTER XV.

THE WOOD OF STRANGE MEETINGS.

"Pamela!"

He had come back, and his eyes and his voice were full of fire.

"Pamela! What have you done to yourself, my sweetheart? You are not the Pamela I left."

She had turned towards him as irresistibly as the needle to the pole. But at his words a quick shiver ran through her. Her eyes turned from him and darkened. Her head drooped.

"You have come too late," she said, almost under her breath; and her voice was cold.

"Look at me, Pam. I have so much to tell you that you must hear. You must not be angry with me. We have been cheated and tricked. I wrote to your father to say I would come and ask for you, Pam, the road being clear."

"He never had your letter."

"It was not posted, Pamela. I must tell you, Pam, though it is hard. You have a right to know. My mother intercepted the letter."

"She detested me. I knew it from the first moment her cold eyes rested upon me."

"She does not like me, Pam, much. But that will not part us."

"Ah!" said Pam, and her voice was almost a cry. "But we _are_ parted. She could not do it, but I have done it by my own act."

His foot knocked against the heap of trinkets on the moss.

"What are these, Pam?" he asked wonderingly.

"Give them to me," she implored. "They are mine. And you must go away, Sir Anthony, and never come again."

"Why, I see"--holding the jewels in his hand--"they are his gifts. But you have thrown them off!"

His eyes blazed suddenly.

"It is an omen, Pam. Let him follow his jewels. What right has he to buy you? You had given yourself to me."

"Ah!" cried Pam, still stretching out her hands for the jewels. "You don't know what you are talking about. He is the best man in all the world; and our wedding-day is fixed, and my wedding-dress is ordered."

The young man flung the jewels on the ground.

"There," he said, "let them lie where I found them. Why should we think of them? It is all a bad dream, Pamela, but not so bad as it might have been--not so bad as it might have been. Why, you are talking folly, Pam, about wedding-days and wedding-dresses. It is our wedding-day you must think of, and the wedding-dress you will wear for me."

He held out his arms to her imploringly, and for a moment, with a dazed look, she seemed as if she must come. Then she pushed him off with a gesture of her two hands.

"No," she said. "Love is not everything--love is not everything. There is honour, there is loyalty, there is faith. And you,--you have your cousin to think about. She is sweet and lovely. I felt it, though I----"

She broke off suddenly.

"Though you loved me and were jealous"; and he laughed masterfully. "All wrong, my Pam! I never cared for Kitty in that way, nor she for me. She is going to marry my chum, Jack Leslie. They have been in love with each other for years."

"Your mother told me----"

His face darkened.

"I know. I shall forgive her when you have yielded your will to mine."

"That will never be."

"Never, Pam? Ah! yes, it will. If I had come here and found that you loved this other man, I could have done nothing but leave you. I came full of anger and fury. All through the journey I had been goading myself to a jealous madness; but the minute I saw you here beside the well where I told you I loved you, I knew you were mine. I can afford to forgive Lord Glengall."

"What do you propose to do?"

"I shall go to the house and explain to your father about the missing letter. I was on my way there when I turned aside to the Wishing Well and found you."

"My father loves Lord Glengall."

"He loves you better, Pam. He will not want you to marry him, loving me."

"You take too much for granted."

"Oh, no, I don't, Pam! You are not the girl to love me seven months ago and love another man to-day. And your eyes betray you, darling!"

"And if my father chooses Lord Glengall before you?"

"Then I will tell him the choice does not rest with him. I will go to Lord Glengall himself."

"And if he should refuse to listen to you?"

"Then I will come to you, Pamela, my beloved."

She suddenly turned on him her beautiful, stormy eyes, and her face was full of tragedy.

"And I shall send you away," she said. "It is no question of loving. I shall not see you any more, Tony"--using the familiar name unconsciously--"never, I hope, after to-day. And I love you; I do love you, and if I might love you for ever I should be the happiest woman on earth. No, don't come near me, for I am saying good-bye to you. I decline to purchase my happiness, and even yours, at the cost of unhappiness to the best man I ever knew. Ah! go now, my love, and do not tempt me any more. You will soon forget me."

She turned as if to go, but before Anthony Trevithick could make any effort to detain her, a quiet voice spoke beside them.

"I came to meet you, Pamela. I expected to find you alone. Who is this gentleman?"

Pamela turned quickly, and put her hand into the hand of her betrothed.

"It is Sir Anthony Trevithick, Lord Glengall."

The two men bowed coldly.

"I will take Miss Graydon home now," said Lord Glengall, drawing her hand through his arm. "I am grateful to you for having taken care of her."

The two stood looking at each other, and the air was as if charged with a storm.

"I am staying in the neighbourhood," said Sir Anthony stiffly. "I shall hope to see your lordship later on."

"Come," whispered Pamela to her betrothed, "come away. I will explain to you."

She stole one glance at the hot and angry face of her young lover. Then, without a word, she passed out of his sight down one of the wood paths, still clinging to Lord Glengall's arm.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then she lifted her eyes to her companion's sad face.

"You heard what I said," she half-whispered. "I am not afraid of you; I was loyal."

"Yes, you were loyal, Pam, in the spirit, but loyalty without love is poor comfort. It is not enough for me."

"I do love you."

"I believe you do, Pam, but there are different kinds of love. Is this that other you once told me about?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. You have had few opportunities for meeting men in your quiet life. This is the lad who was your father's pupil?"

"The son of his old friend, Sir Gerald Trevithick."

"I ought to have met him when he was here. But I was finishing up in Australia. He is honest, Pam--is he?"

"I am sure he is--now. Before I thought he was false."

"How did it come that he went away like that, having made you love him?"

"He was called away to a sick uncle. He wrote to father to explain, but the letter never reached him."

"You are sure he wrote?"

"Yes, he has told me. His mother----You saw her once?"

"A frozen-looking woman, dressed like an empress, who came one day. She was so haughty to me that I very soon removed myself."

"That was her."

"My poor little Pam!--that was the woman you went to visit afterwards? I had not realised it. I never thought of her after that day."

"She made me very unhappy. From the first she had a quiet way of making me feel not of her world, and afterwards she was horrid--about papa. She told me--falsehoods, too."

"Why didn't you come home, Pam?"

"I wouldn't let them know that the visit had been so horrible. Papa was pleased for me to go. Then he fell ill, and I came away."

"What did she tell you, Pam?"

"She told me Sir Anthony was engaged to his cousin. It was she who intercepted his letter to papa, in which he said he would come back."

"Ah! there are such women. But why didn't he speak fully and frankly before he went?"

"I do not know. There was some reason. He spoke of something that stood in the way."

Lord Glengall frowned, with his eyes on the ground.

"I shall find out the reason," he said.

"Ah! no," cried Pamela, clinging to his arm. "Let it be. I have told him he must go away. I belong to you, and not to him."

A little spasm of pain passed over the irregular features.

"Don't try me too much, Pamela, or I might take you at your word."

"I want you to take me at my word."

"I am sure you do--at this moment."

"Now and always."

"My little Pam! Still mine till I give you up of my own free will. You will trust me to do what is for the best?"

"I will trust you for ever. You are not going to give me up?"

Again his face contracted.

"Not unless I ought to, Pam. Not unless the lad is straight and can prove himself worthy of you. If I feel he can make you happier than I can, I will give you to him. If not, I will keep you in spite of yourself, and trust to my love to make you forget him."

"I think that might easily come true."

"Don't make it hard for me, Pam, if I have to cede my right to another. Pamela"--she had lifted her hands to him in her emotion--"where is your ring?"

Pamela wrung her hands in her trouble.

"Do not be angry with me," she entreated. "I took it off in the wood, there where you found me. It is there still."

"Pamela," his voice was stern. "Did _he_ remove your ring?"

"No, no. A thousand times, no! How could you think I would let him?"

"Forgive me, child--I ought to have known you better. But why did you take off the ring?"

She looked to left and right, as though seeking a way of escape, and answered nothing.

"I see," said Lord Glengall, and his face had a look of suffering. "You took it off because it irked you to wear it. You wanted to be free."

"It was only a mood."

"A bad mood for me, child. Why could you not have trusted me, and have told me I had asked too much? It would have been kinder."

"I shall never forgive myself," cried Pam.

"I am going back for the ring, Pam. Run away home now, and I shall bring it. Run now--I can keep you in sight till I see you within the door of Carrickmoyle. I shall not be long."

"The ring is on the ground, by the well," said Pamela, her head hanging like the head of a sensitive child caught in the act of wrongdoing. "You will find it there, and my necklet and bracelet also."

Her voice stumbled as she made her full confession.

"Poor Pam!" said Lord Glengall.

"Ah!" she said, "if you would only forget about it. There was never any man like you. If I do not love you now, it is only because he came first. I shall love you in time. I could not help it."

"Kiss me, Pam, before you go. I have not asked you for kisses when I might."

"I have done nothing but hurt you," she cried, conscience-stricken. Then she lifted her face for his kiss.

"And I have been hurting you, quite unconsciously, all the time. It is the old story of May and December. But, thank God! it is not too late."

He lifted his hat again, with the reverential gesture characteristic of him. As he stood bare-headed, a glint of the dying sun fell on his hair and forehead. It made him look old and dusty and tired.

Then Pamela went away slowly across the park to the house, while he stood watching her. When she had entered the house, he went back down the wood path.

As he went slowly and sadly, he felt something thrust against him. He looked down. It was Pamela's dog, Pat, who had remained behind, hunting an elusive rabbit, and had only just come up with their trail. The dog jumped about him with demonstrations of joy.

Lord Glengall stooped down and patted the rough head.

"I am not to be your new master, after all, old fellow," he said.

Pat licked his hand vigorously, and then looked up inquiringly into his face.

"She has gone home," said Lord Glengall in answer, "and I should be a bad substitute."

But Pat manifested very unmistakably that he was going to accompany this friend of his back into the woods.

"Ah! good little beast," said Lord Glengall, oddly comforted. "It is good to have a dog sorry for one, Pat."

[END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN.]

CURIOUS CHARITABLE GIFTS

It is a well-known and pleasing fact that several millions of pounds are annually devoted, throughout the kingdom, to the purposes of public charity, but few people are aware to what a great extent charitable gifts in _kind_ are nowadays sent to philanthropic institutions. These "donations" vary in value from a few pence to hundreds of pounds; and although the greater number consist of ordinary articles which are easily disposed of, yet some most extraordinary gifts are frequently received, of which the outside public hears little.

Quite recently two mummified hands--one with the forearm attached--both authoritatively stated to be over 3,000 years old, were sent to the Church Army by a West-End physician, who brought them from Egypt, and they will doubtless be the means of an appreciable accession to the funds of the organisation when disposed of.

The Salvation Army also receives some curious articles at times. Jewellery of various kinds often finds its way to the Headquarters, and some little time ago a deaf-and-dumb convert presented a perfect model in cork of one of the barracks, showing the soldiers marching in and the roughs gathered around; whilst a travelling showman who recently joined the Army begged to be allowed to hand the officers his stock-in-trade, which included two remarkable-looking effigies used in his ventriloquial entertainments.

The most singular donations received by the Army, however, are presented at the harvest festivals. General Booth's followers are exceptionally energetic at such times, and it is no uncommon thing for the proceeds of the gifts collected for a festival service in a poor neighbourhood to amount to some seventy or eighty pounds, half of which is retained for the local funds, whilst the remainder is sent to Headquarters as a donation towards the general expenses. An impromptu barn is frequently erected in the meeting-room with the front open to the audience, and in this the gifts are displayed to the best advantage.

In addition to fruit, flowers, and vegetables, presents of live stock are often made which are not _always_ acceptable. For instance, at one place a calf was given, and was accommodated in a temporary stall on the platform. But it did not appear to enjoy the service. Whenever the band played, it made such a terrible noise that eventually it had to be escorted to a quiet corner outside. Birds of many descriptions have also joined in these services; and a Russian cat which was presented on such an occasion kept up harvest celebrations during the night, we are told, by devouring a pound of beef sausages, which represented another, though humbler, gift.

Many people will question the advisability of allowing live stock to be present at such services. The important fact remains, however, that gifts of this nature frequently serve to attract large crowds of the very people the Army officers wish to influence. But difficulties sometimes arise through the thoughtlessness of enthusiastic donors. At Chester recently a live donkey was led up four flights of stairs to the barracks, and handed over as a free-will offering. When the service concluded, it was discovered to be impossible for the animal to walk down again; and, to use the words of the officer, they "had to tie the thing up in a knot, wrap it up in a sack, and lower it gently and gracefully over the banisters!" We may hope that the patient animal did not suffer any ill effects from his attendance at the service.

Some most curious articles are also occasionally received by the Poor Clergy Relief Corporation, which, as is well-known, does a most useful work by making grants in money and clothing to clergymen in temporary distress, and to the widows and children of clergymen who are left insufficiently provided for. These articles comprise revolvers, respirators, artificial teeth and wigs, feeding-bottles, military and naval uniforms, silk-worm cocoons, and bicycles, and all are turned to account either by direct gift or by realisation at a jumble or auction sale. An amusing incident, the secretary states, recently occurred in the clothing department in connection with an involuntary gift. The matron was filling a large bag for a poor family whilst a carpenter was in the room engaged on some repairs. He had placed his cap--which was a good one--on the table, and the matron, thinking it part of the stock, promptly annexed it and despatched it with the other things. It was gratefully acknowledged! Of course, the carpenter had to be provided with a new cap, which he has since been careful to place in his pocket when working in the building.

But the institution which receives the greatest number of gifts in kind is undoubtedly Dr. Barnardo's well-known Home for Waifs and Strays in Stepney Causeway. During last year alone 9,651 parcels were delivered from various supporters, containing in the aggregate over 97,000 articles of various kinds! When it is also stated that the sales of these goods realised, in the same twelve months, the grand total of £1,850, some idea will be gathered of the enormous number of articles dealt with every year, and the welcome addition which they bring to the income of the Homes.

The gifts come from all quarters of the globe. Even such far-distant countries as India, China, Corea, Burmah, and Japan contribute their quota, and many a pathetic history and much amazing romance is embodied in the articles received.

One of the most valuable, and certainly one of the most remarkable, of the donations which have found their way to Stepney Causeway was ex-King Theebaw's ivory throne, sent a year or two ago by a gentleman in Rangoon. The throne was somewhat in the form of a large armchair, and was ordered by the king in the palmy days of his despotism. According to his edict, only the very best craftsmen were employed to fulfil the commission, and only the finest and soundest tusks were used. The design was exceedingly elaborate, and both time and special talent were needed for the task, which it took years to accomplish. But, such is the irony of Fate, when the work was practically finished the king was deposed, and the completed throne never passed into his possession. After some little time it came into the hands of the Rangoon donor who so generously presented it to Dr. Barnardo. This interesting piece of furniture was estimated to be worth some £500. The detail of the work was exquisite, a delicate tracery covering nearly the whole, with some most beautiful and elaborate carving in high relief lying behind it. The little figures inside appeared to be executed with the utmost thoroughness, and the chair was an eloquent testimony to the genius and patience of the native workmen.

From the same country a number of quaint silver goods are constantly received from a resident Englishman and his native wife, both of whom take a very keen interest in the work of saving the waifs of the slums. Owing to the extensive fluctuations in the value of the rupee, and to the low rate of exchange in England, they find it more advantageous to purchase native goods which will realise good prices in London than to send their donations in cash.

Dr. Barnardo has little difficulty in disposing of such gifts. There is a special trade department at Stepney Causeway, consisting of a show-room and several large and airy stores. These storage rooms, which are not open to the general public, contain a most extraordinary collection of gifts, including such articles as bedsteads, false hair and teeth, old pictures, jewellery, a microscopic cabinet, a three-manual organ, an oak lectern, boxes of geological and ornithological specimens, air pillows, sewing and sausage machines, a bottled snake, as well as a great variety of clothing both new and secondhand.

Amongst the more valuable of the articles which have recently been received may be mentioned a number of exceedingly dainty and costly Eastern shawls, and a cape constructed entirely from birds' feathers, which is supposed to be the only one of its kind in England. This handsome cape originally belonged to a Spanish lady, and is now more than a hundred years old. Each feather was worked in separately, and the various colours are so beautifully blended that the worker must have possessed considerable artistic talent as well as great patience, for it contains some thousands of tiny feathers of various hues. Another piece of work that must have entailed an immense amount of time and care is a sample of Indian needlework, of which we give a photograph. The ground is coarse black cloth, but the design is so cleverly worked in gold and silver braid and sequins that the result is a most handsome example of native embroidery, which needs to be seen to be fully appreciated.

From India also come the two models of native types photographed in the group shown on the preceding page. They are most delicately moulded, every detail being scrupulously attended to. The figure on the left is ten inches in height, and represents a grass-cutter, whilst that on the right depicts an Indian water-carrier, and both bear the name of the modeller--Buckshar Paul of Krishnagar.

A different form of Indian work may be seen in the candlestick in the same illustration, which is moulded in brass in the form of a serpent, and forms a curious and certainly not inartistic ornament. Standing beside this is an ordinary-shaped box with a diamond design on the lid, and this article is specially interesting, owing to its having been constructed of sixteen different varieties of wood grown in New Zealand. It is a far cry from this fertile colony to the historic city of Ephesus, but we are carried thither in order to explain the presence of the two odd-looking pieces of ware (representing an ancient vase and lamp) to be seen in the forefront of the same photographic group. They were selected at random from a number of such articles which Dr. Barnardo has in his possession awaiting a remunerative purchaser. The extraordinary character of the gifts received at the institution is well exemplified in these articles, which were actually discovered in the ruins of the Temple of Diana by the well-known antiquarian, the late Mr. F. Wood. Each piece is authenticated by the signature of the excavator, which is affixed, and they were presented to Dr. Barnardo by Mr. Wood's widow about three years ago.

A striking instance of the wonderful changes wrought by time is shown in the generous gifts in money and kind recently received from the descendants of the mutineers of the _Bounty_. Here is romance pure and unadulterated, and Dr. Barnardo may well have said that the following letter which recently came into his hands read like "something out of a book." It appears that the captain of a British vessel wrote to him from Australia as follows: "I called in our passage through the Pacific at Pitcairn Island. A number of the natives came off, and when they learned I was bound to Great Britain, they desired me to take some presents for you, consisting of a case full of fancy articles made by themselves. I have already despatched this case to you, and I now enclose postal orders for £5 10s. 8d., being the cash, less a spurious two-shilling piece, which the islanders had collected for your institution." The case contained six walking-sticks, eighty cocoanut-shell baskets, as well as a quantity of shells and a large number of bananas. These gifts form undoubted evidence of the Christian and philanthropic spirit of the present Pitcairn Islanders, and at the same time bear valuable testimony to the world-wide appreciation of Dr. Barnardo's life-work.

A walk through the storage rooms is amply repaid by the number and the limitless variety of the articles to be seen therein. Here is an organ constructed by an amateur after seven years of assiduous work. It is unique in its way, the pipes being made of cardboard; but whether the gift of the ingenious organ-builder was an altogether disinterested one is not for me to state. I heard it whispered that the cleverly constructed instrument refused to work properly, and was somewhat of the nature of a white elephant to the present owners. Another example of tireless ingenuity is to be seen in the three large brass models of engines which adorn a corner of the same room. The mechanism of these engines is perfect in every way, and the models are of considerable value.

In close proximity to them is a dinner service of Worcester china, dated 1794, and consisting of 150 pieces. This will doubtless soon be "discovered" by a lover of old china, who will also see another "find" near by equally worthy of attention. I refer to a dessert service of seventeen pieces, which originally formed a wedding present before it found its way to Stepney Causeway. The service is more than fifty years old, and its chief value lies in the exquisite pictures to be found on each plate. The design is different in every case, and when it is added that the pictures are hand-painted the munificence of the kindly donor will be recognised.

But it is impossible to give an adequate idea of the curiously mixed contents of the stores. Cumbersome articles such as mail-carts, rocking-horses, Bath-chairs, and water-beds will be found adjacent to billiard balls, pipes, samples of inlaid ebony work and other "small" goods; whilst near at hand will be found piles upon piles of articles of dress of all sorts and conditions. It is not surprising that a number of assistants are kept constantly employed in receiving, listing, sorting, and selling these miscellaneous gifts, which are sent by a grateful public as a small donation to the good and beneficent work which has for so many years been carried on by means of the Homes.

A. PALFREY HOLLINGDALE.

HIS STRANGE REPENTANCE.

AN ADDRESS TO YOUNG MEN.

By the Venerable Archdeacon Madden.

It was close upon midnight. I was alone in my study, busy clearing off a pile of letters that had been waiting all day for a "leisure moment." In the midst of my work a vigorous ring of the door-bell resounded through the house, followed by such a peremptory _ran-tan_ at the knocker that I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door to see what was the matter. There I found two rough-looking men, who lost no time in stating their business. "We want your reverence," they said, "to come and see a poor young fellow who is dying; the doctor has given him up, and he is crying out for a minister to come and pray with him." I could not refuse such an appeal, and off I started with the men. They led me to a narrow street in my parish and into one of the most dingy houses in the street. After groping my way, by the aid of lighted matches, up a dark flight of stairs, I found the dying man in a dirty back bedroom.

He could not have been more than thirty years of age. He was propped up in bed, and the grey look of death was upon his face.

As I entered he turned eagerly to me, and, holding out his hand, said, "I'm dying, and I am not ready--_not ready_!"

Just as I was about to speak he suddenly gasped out, "John, John! hand me those things on the table." John came forward and laid upon the bed a sporting paper, a pack of cards, a set of dice, a bottle of whisky, and some race lists.

There was a deliberation about the whole business which convinced me that the matter had been talked over between the men. When all were spread out in due order, the dying man again turned to me and said, "Look, vicar, those things have been the ruin of me; and they have been a curse to me, and I want to turn my back upon them all--I want you to help me to do it." Again I was about to speak, when suddenly, stooping down, he gathered them all up and thrust them into my hands with the words "Shove them up my back." I was so staggered by the request that I stammered out "What--what do you mean?" "I want you," he said, "as God's minister to shove them up underneath my shirt. I want to put them behind my back. I want God to see that I have done with them for ever." I did not know whether to laugh or cry. It was all so absurd and yet so pathetic. The man was in dead earnest. He had evidently thought over it, and meant it as an "act" of true repentance. He was undoubtedly a man who had "come down in the world," and it was not all ignorance.

I said to him, "I will do what you wish, but I will kneel down first, and you will repeat a prayer after me." I knelt and he repeated after me these words: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee. I renounce all my sins--from the bottom of my heart I renounce them all. Father, receive Thy prodigal son, and forgive me for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."

I then rose from my knees and carried out his wishes. To us all in that chamber of death it was a most solemn sacramental rite. I, indeed, verily believed that it was the outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace of a true repentance. There I held the things that had cursed his young manhood, ruined a promising career, and brought him down to poverty and a premature grave; and as I held those emblems of evil behind his back I told him of a Saviour who "carried our sins"--upon whom the Lord had laid the iniquities of us all.

Little by little he gasped out his tale of sin: the gambling, the betting, and the "horsey set" he had got amongst as a youth; then drinking and bad company; then "striding came ruin and poverty like a weaponed warrior." Deserted, degraded, he crawled into this wretched room, sick in mind and body, to die forsaken and forgotten by all his old boon companions except John.

The scene of that night has left an indelible impression upon my heart and mind. I believe the merciful God accepted that strange outward act as an evidence of sincere repentance. To the very last he would have us hold those instruments of sin between his shirt and his bare back, and as I held them there he died calling upon God.

When I passed out of that house of death into the streets and the morning light, I prayed, as I had never prayed before, that God in His mercy might deliver this fair England of ours from the deadly and degrading vice of gambling.

It is over ten years since my midnight visit to that gambler's death-bed. I remember still one sentence of the ruined man: "It doesn't pay, sir! It doesn't pay!" Aye! and even if it does pay some few, what then? Is it not ill-gotten gain? And if so, what shall it profit such a man, though he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?

The vice of gambling does not stand alone. It is the mother of sins; the sordid and the sensual too frequently go hand in hand. Lying, blasphemy, impurity, dishonesty, trickery, double-dealing, follow in its train.

The gambler who, by a stroke of "luck," becomes rich in an hour, is tempted to spend his winnings in riotous living. It is with him a case of "luxury" to-day, despair and drink to-morrow.

A general atmosphere of blackguardism seems ever to pervade the race-course. Here is a cutting from the daily press of August last:--

"BLACKGUARDISM AT THE ALEXANDRA PARK RACES.--Fourteen brutal assaults, committed on the Alexandra Park race-course on Saturday afternoon, have been reported to the police, the assaults in several cases having been accompanied by robbery. One of the gentlemen assaulted was a professional man well known in the neighbourhood. He was standing at a refreshment bar in the grand stand when he was half-killed by roughs. Another person who was assaulted was a member of the Jockey Club staff; but many frequenters of the course were heard to express pleasure at this, in the hope that it would lead to some better provision being made for the exclusion of well-known roughs from the rings and stands."

I have seen more than one young man of my acquaintance stand in the felon's dock, and I know they were brought there by betting. I have heard the wail of wife and children in the court as the culprit was hurried from the dock to his cell. And what was left for him to do when he was released from prison? Who will employ a man with the stigma of "imprisonment for dishonesty" resting upon him? He sinks lower and lower, dragging his poor wife and has little children down with him in his degrading descent--down to abject misery.

"In addition, too, to the frightful injustice to wives and children caused by betting and gambling, and the results on the home life," says a recent Report of the Convocation of York, "they have an injurious effect on those who are addicted to them, deadening their spiritual life, and making them indifferent to higher joys and nobler pursuits while the passion lasts. An example of this is afforded by Greville, who, in his memoirs, says: 'Thank God! the races are over. I have had all the excitement and worry, but have neither won nor lost. Nothing but the hope of gain would induce me to go through the demoralising drudgery, which I am aware reduces me to a level of all that is most disreputable and despicable, for my thoughts are eternally absorbed in them. It is like dram-drinking; having once begun, you cannot leave it off, though I am disgusted all the time with my occupation.'"

And it is useless, my brother, to juggle with your conscience in this matter. Gambling is a vice, whether it be for penny points or for "ponies." The question of the amount of the bet has nothing to do with the sin of gambling. The principle is what we look at.

"The wrong of gambling lies not in the excessive indulgence in an intrinsically innocent practice, but in the surrender to chance of acts which ought to be controlled by reason alone, and decided by the will in accordance with the moral laws of justice or benevolence."

Brother men! shun this vice. It is the certain road to ruin. Do not be lured to your doom by this terrible fascination. Shake off its spell, renounce its tyranny: "It doesn't pay! It doesn't pay!"

It is an accursed thing. It degrades the mind, it demoralises the whole moral being, and, if not renounced, means everlasting ruin.

This is no time for smooth words. Gambling is a growing evil in the land. Women and children, as well as men, have become entangled within its meshes, and are being dragged down to perdition. It destroys all that is noble and unselfish in the human heart. It paralyses the will, stultifies the reason, and stifles every holy emotion in the soul. The man who "prepares a table for fortune and fills up mingled wine to destiny," who makes chance his idol and gain his god, will live to curse the day of his birth. Be wise, therefore, O ye sons of men and seek the Lord your God with all your hearts; for "the blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it."

Told in Sunshine Room.]

A Fairy Parable. By Roma White.

Once upon a time there was a country all sweet with the honey-smell of white clover, and all full of music with the song of birds. Rain and wind swept it now and then; but, when they had passed the warm joy of sunshine came again, and the shadows of sailing, snowy clouds drifted purple over the soft green sides of the hills where the young kids played round their quiet mothers, so that all the people who lived in the beautiful country felt its loveliness thrill their hearts.

But surrounding the clover-fields and the bright gardens and the sunny meadows was a band of black darkness, and those who had passed into the darkness never came back. Everybody who sang and laughed and loved in the sunshine knew that some day their turn would come to step alone into the strange country of night that girdled the land like an impenetrable curtain; and sometimes one or another would come and look sadly and tearfully on the darkness, and then turn back with bowed head, and try to forget it. And sometimes a sound of low, sad singing would approach it, and men and women, with tears running down their faces, would accompany some dear one, whose time in the bright country was finished, to the edge of the silent darkness and watch him pass away into it, never to return; and though they held out beseeching hands after him, and strained their sight that they might perceive whither he had gone, the darkness never gave up its secret; only continued to lie, hushed and mysterious, round the land where the apple-blossom budded and the young lambs played.

Now the King of the country had seven daughters and an only son. The daughters were very beautiful, but the son was fairer than the day. His hair was as golden as the noontime of the South, and his eyes were blue and laughing as the summer sea, and his mother loved him better than life, from the day when he lay in a little white and silver cradle by her side.

The royal children played together in the gardens and courts of the palace, and sometimes the Queen gathered them about her and told them tales of the fairies and the dewy rings which they danced into greenness on summer nights; or she would tell them of brave kings who had done their duty, and loving queens whose names had been blessed by their subjects. And the children would ask questions about the dark belt that encircled the country, of which they had heard, but which they had never seen. And then the Queen would shake her head and fold her arms tightly about them one by one, but the child that she pressed most closely to her was her only boy.

But one day a great fear fell upon the kingdom, and all the palace was hushed and still. It was told that the little Prince's days were numbered, and that he must soon pass away. And a few hours later twilight fell over the land, and through the twilight came the solemn steps of mourners and the sound of tears. And the lilies bent their white heads, and the roses nestled sadly together among their green leaves as the royal procession swept wailing by through the dusk. And for a few moments a child's voice spoke, and then it ceased as the little Prince went bravely away, alone, into the darkness, and those who had loved him were left behind.

They returned by-and-by to the palace, and the King took up his royal duties again, and the seven Princesses went back to their lessons and to their play. Sometimes they would talk, with sudden sobs, of their brother, and then they would forget him while tending to their flowers and watching the wild birds on the wing. The King, too, now and then, would rest his face upon his hands, and be very silent for a while. But his kingdom claimed him, and he had not the time always in which to mourn.

Only the Queen never forgot, for the little Prince had been her only son. Night after night she went alone to the edge of the darkness, and tried to pierce it with her longing eyes, and to beat it away with her mother's hands; but it was always motionless and impassable, and seemed to extend into endless night.

But one evening, as she knelt there, quiet for very weariness, there came a sweet smell through the dusk, as if the spices of wild thyme were crushed out by some approaching tread; and the sleeping flowers that had hung heavily under the weight of her falling tears, lifted their faces and unfolded their closed petals, as if they were dreaming of the morning sun. And then, all at once, fragrance and warmth and light were about the Queen; and, looking up, she saw the radiant figure of a wise, quiet man.

His voice spoke to her, and she heard many echoes in it, so that it stirred her memory strangely. It was as if she listened to the notes of a thrush on a dewy morning, or to the south wind among the summer trees by night.

"Why do you mourn here, all alone?" he asked her gently.

Her tones shook as she answered him.

"I am weeping for my only son, who has gone away from me into this darkness by which we stand."

For a moment the wise man was silent; his grave, tender eyes looked down into hers.

"You try to beat the darkness away with your hands," he said by-and-by, "and you feel only that it is like solid rock to your touch. You strain your sight to pierce it, and, as you gaze, you realise its blackness, and it becomes deeper to your eyes. Why, then, do you stay upon its margin?"

"I stay because I hope and pray that, by dwelling near it, I may catch a glimpse of my only son; that I may hear his voice speak to me, or feel for a moment the warm, clinging touch of his little hands. I stay because I crave for a message from him, to tell me that he loves me still."

Then there was pity in the wise man's eyes, and it was the sweet pity of a mother who sees a child cry over a broken toy.

"Your son has many messages far you," he said, "but you cannot find or read them here; and, if you stay, your eyes will soon grow too dim to see, and the darkness will hold itself all about your heart. Turn your face and footsteps back to your people and your king, and seek there a message from your son which shall speak of consolation."

The Queen was silent then, and her feet and hands were still. She looked up at the wise, quiet man, and, as she looked, she saw that his eyes were like those of the child who had passed away, and she caught at the hem of his robe with trembling fingers.

"Who are you?" she cried. "Who are you, with your wise words, and your eyes like those of my son, who was but a little, little child?"

Then into the face of the man came a wonderful look, so that the Queen, seeing it, bent her head and bowed her forehead upon her hands. And it seemed to her, for a moment, as if strange sweet scents blew to her, and the darkness broke away into long alleys of light and bloom. And then there was a hush, and when she looked up again the wise man was gone.

But she remembered that he had given her the sweetest promise in the world--the promise of a message from her only son; and, believing him, she went away from the belt of darkness, and turned again to the palace, to her children, and to her king.

And as she passed along the road she came across a poor cripple who had fallen and hurt himself by the way. His wounds bled, and he looked up at the Queen with wistful eyes. So she went, herself, to the nearest stream to fetch water for him, and she gave him some to drink, and bound up the poor bruises, and soothed him with gentle words. And as she tended him, she forgot for a moment the darkness into which her son had passed, and only remembered that the land, in spite of its beauty, was full of suffering and tears, and that she had her work to do among her people; and she looked with her shining mother's eyes into the cripple's face, and bade him be comforted.

And then, all at once, a wonderful thing happened. The cripple spoke, in faltering tones, to thank her; and his voice thrilled her, for it was the voice of her little son.

Wondering and grave, the Queen passed on. Some blue butterflies flew by, circling in the still air. As she looked at them her heart was suddenly stirred to reverence and gratitude and joy for the beauty of their silken burnished wings. And as the thrill of tenderness shook her, it seemed, all at once, as if a glow were across her path, and as if, through the glow, she heard the child-laughter of the little Prince who had passed away.

And so it happened, day after day, as the weeks sped by. Whenever the heart of the Queen was stirred to holiness by deeds and thoughts which were true and lovely and pure there came to her all the tender sweetness of memory and of communion, so that she knew that beyond the darkness her little son still sent his thoughts to her in love. But whenever she went to the belt of gloom to weep his voice was silent, and it seemed to her as if he had gone away for ever.

And one day there came a strange beggar to the palace gates, with wild, wicked eyes and hatred of all men in his heart; and he had sworn to injure the King because the King was great and good. He kept his vow, and struck at the kind King as he was passing through the gates. But the Queen saw the raised dagger, and sprang in front of her husband, so that she received the blow herself.

Then the Queen lay in strange silent illness, and the court met to judge the deed. The beggar crouched, terrified and trembling, before them; but, ere sentence could be given, a sweet woman's voice bade those who condemned him to pause, and the judges saw that the Queen had risen from her bed of sickness and stood among them.

"Wait!" she cried, "wait! I, who have borne the pain, must speak the sentence."

She paused, and, crossing to the beggar, laid her hand upon his head.

"My sentence is--Forgiveness!"

Her voice rang out like a sweet silver trumpet in the court-room, and everybody was very still. Then, all at once, the beggar burst into tears.

But nobody else spoke or moved. Only the tears of the beggar flowed down until they made a tiny crystal pool, and the Queen, who bent over him, saw into the pool as into a mirror.

And she beheld the margin of the country and the deep black fog which lay beyond; and as she looked, the fog broke away into long gleaming alleys of flowers with shining mists above them, as if of a rising sun, and, among the bloom, the face of the little Prince smiled fully upon her once again.

Then, all at once, she heard the voice of the wise, quiet man, and she perceived that he stood again by her side.

"What does it all mean?" she asked him breathlessly; "what does it all mean?"

The beggar, whose face was pressed to the hem of her robe; the court, who still remained hushed and motionless; and the King, whose eyes reverenced her, all waited for the wise man's reply. It came to them softly, like the murmur of pine needles in a south wind.

"There can be no Death where there is Love."

Rise, Gracious God, and Shine.

_Words by_ WILLIAM HURN, 1813. _Music by_ H. WALFORD DAVIES, MUS.D. (_Organist of the Temple Church._)

_With majesty._

1. Rise, gracious God, and shine In all Thy saving might! And prosper each design, To spread Thy glorious light: Let healing streams of mercy flow, That all the earth Thy truth may know. Amen.

2. O bring the nations near, That they may sing Thy praise; Let all the people hear And learn Thy gracious ways: Reign, mighty God, assert Thy cause, And govern by Thy righteous laws.

3. Put forth Thy glorious power; The nations then will see! And earth present her store In converts born to Thee. God, our own God, His Church will bless, And earth will teem with fruitfulness.

N.B.--The last verse should be sung _ff_ in unison.

TEMPERANCE NOTES AND NEWS.

By a Leading Temperance Advocate.

THE CARE OF THE INEBRIATE.

The present year has brought into operation a new Act of Parliament dealing with the habitual drunkard. The unfortunate men and women of the type of the notorious Jane Cakebread have been the despair of stipendiary magistrates for years past. At the time of writing the working of the new Act has not settled into shape, so it is all too early to forecast its probable results. Meanwhile we tender our congratulations to Dr. Norman Kerr, F.L.S., for it is to this humane and philanthropic physician we are indebted for anything like an intelligent treatment of the confirmed dipsomaniac. Dr. Kerr was born at Glasgow in 1834, and graduated at Glasgow University in 1861. While yet a student he took a keen interest in temperance and established a society for his fellow-students. From that time to the present, his active services to the reform have been steadily maintained. He takes a prominent part in the work of the Church of England Temperance Society, the United Kingdom Alliance, and the National Temperance League. It is, however, as an authority on dipsomania that he is best known. He is the founder and President of the Society for the Study and Cure of Inebriety, and it was at his instigation that a highly successful Colonial and International Congress on Inebriety was held in Westminster Town Hall in July, 1887. Dr. Kerr has written largely on the subject, and his learned work on "Inebriety: Its Etiology, Pathology, Treatment, and Jurisprudence," speedily passed into several editions. He is almost as well known in the United States as at home. The gist of Dr. Norman Kerr's views may be best indicated by the opening sentence of the volume referred to. He writes:--

"No _disease_ is more common than inebriety, and yet none is so seldom recognised. No _disease_ is more widespread. In the whole circle of even an extensive acquaintance it may happen that no member has been known to have suffered from any of the leading diseases which prevail in our islands, that no one has been laid low by phthisis or cancer. But there are very few families in the United Kingdom which have not had at least one relative who has been subject to inebriety."

ANOTHER GOOD IDEA.

The latest new effort to popularise temperance amongst women is a scheme prepared by the Durham and Northumberland County Union of the British Women's Temperance Association. It takes the form of a summer school to be opened at Barnard Castle, where ladies may study temperance in its scientific aspects, and receive various aids as to the methods of imparting this knowledge. The forenoons will be given to lectures, the afternoons to recreation, excursions, etc. Full particulars may be obtained from Mrs. Richardson, The Gables, Newcastle-on-Tyne.

BEER IN THE HAY AND HARVEST FIELDS.

This is an age of specialists, and Mr. John Abbey is certainly the specialist of the temperance propaganda in relation to agriculture. The son of a yeoman, he very early turned his attention to the importance of "soberising" our harvest fields. By his writings, his speeches, and the invention of teetotal drinks called Stokos, Hopkos, and Cokos, he has gradually produced a wonderful change in agricultural circles. It is Mr. Abbey's habit to go the round of the agricultural shows in their season, where he pitches his tent, in which he dispenses his drinks, distributes his literature, and discusses "the why and because" of his movement with all and sundry. From the many letters received by him, we are permitted to quote one from a correspondent who farms seven hundred acres:--

"I am glad to tell you that we have done harvest without a drop of beer being given to the men, and they appear to like Stokos better this year than ever. They usually had eight gallons or more a day, and worked well with it, and throughout the excessive heat we had not a man ill. Years ago the men would get beer into the field, and there was a great deal of drunkenness among them, but now I am thankful to say that Stokos has, by virtue of its excellent qualities, practically _driven the beer out of the field_, and work goes on delightfully."

It may be mentioned that this agricultural work is only a detail of Mr. Abbey's life, for he is the Organising Secretary of the Church of England Temperance Society for Norwich Diocese, having previously held a similar appointment far many years in Oxford Diocese.

COMING EVENTS.

On April 13th a concert will be given at Stafford House, under the patronage of H.R.H. the Duchess of York, in aid of the Church of England Temperance Society Juvenile Union. On April 19th the annual meeting of the Guild of Hope will be held at Grosvenor House, the Duke of Westminster in the chair. On May 1st the annual meeting of the National Temperance League will be held in Exeter Hall, the Archbishop of Canterbury presiding. In July there will be two fêtes at the Crystal Palace--one on the 5th by the National Temperance Choral Society, and the other on the 29th, under the direction of the Church of England Temperance Society.

"GIVE THE BOY A CHANCE."

During the past decade the Church of England Temperance Society has developed a wonderful leaning towards practical effort. Its Police Court Mission has been of incalculable service, and has received the hearty recognition of such able magistrates as the late Mr. Montagu Williams, Sir John Bridge, Mr. A. de Rutzen, and others. The Police Court Missionaries have for some time been gravely concerned as to what to do with young boys brought up for their first offences. Last June the Church of England Temperance Society established a Boys' Shelter Home at Gunnersbury. To this institution boys are now remitted instead of to prison. Here they have a chance of learning some useful industry, situations are found for them, and they are thus given a new start in life. The Bishop of London opened the Home, which is managed under the direction of a small sub-committee of the London Diocesan Church of England Temperance Society.

AMONG THE RAILWAY MEN.

One of the most interesting, and certainly one of the most useful, temperance organisations, specially catering for a distinct class of workers, is the United Kingdom Railway Temperance Union. It commenced in a very humble way in 1882, and in a sense owes its origin to Mr. S. Cutler, an earnest man employed by the Metropolitan Railway Company, who approached the Church of England Temperance Society to see if something could be done to bring together the different railway men who were in sympathy with temperance work. As the result of a conference, the Union was started, and it has remained in connection with the Church of England Temperance Society ever since. To-day it has branches on nearly every line of railway in the United Kingdom; and every grade of the service, from the influential director down to the humble bookstall lad, is represented in the membership. The railway men were fortunate in securing the interest of Mr. Robert Sawyer, Recorder of Maidenhead, at the commencement of their operations, for besides contributing very largely from his purse, Mr. Sawyer, as President of the Union, practically devotes his life to the interests of railway men. He is literally "in journeyings oft," and has a most able lieutenant in Mr. A. C. Thompson, the first and only Secretary of the Union. The railway men run a little temperance journal of their own, appropriately entitled _On the Line_. One has only to glance through its attractive pages to see that the Union is very much alive. For those who are employed on railways temperance is certainly an excellent thing, and there can be no doubt also that the safety of the travelling public is helped not a little by the hard work of Mr. Sawyer and his cheery comrades.

With Illustrative Anecdotes and References.

=MARCH 19TH.--Christ the Good Shepherd.=

_To read--St. John x. 1-16. Golden Text--Ver. 11._

Last lesson showed Christ as source of _light_--giving sight to the eyes and heart of blind man; to-day's shows Him as "Love," the Good Shepherd, giving His life for His sheep.

I. =Christ the Door of the Fold= (1-10). _Connection_ with healing of blind man.

Pharisees were bad shepherds--he found the true.

They drove him away--Christ the Good Shepherd took him into His fold.

_Explanation_ of the different parts of the parable.

The sheepfold--Christ's Church on earth (ver. 16).

The door--Christ Himself, the only way to God.

The sheep--the people of Christ (Ps. c. 2).

The shepherds--God's ministers, feeding and leading the flock (1 Pet. v. 2) in the right way.

The porter--God's Spirit opening hearts to Christ.

_Illustration_: Christ is as a Good Shepherd. How?

He comes to the sheep in the fold. He calls by name, and goes before to lead them. They recognise voice, trust Him, and follow.

_Contrast_ between Christ and the Pharisees. They are robbers (St. Matt. xxiii. 14, etc.), blind guides, hypocrites, leading men to ruin. Now thirsting to kill Him. Christ is the way of salvation. Thief _takes_ life; shepherds _protect_ life. He _gives_ life, here and hereafter.

_Application._ Whosoever believeth in Him shall have everlasting life.

II. =Christ the Good Shepherd= (11-16). _His name._

Good, _i.e._ beautiful, noble, loving. He is _perfect_ in contrast with imperfect ministers; _true_ as opposed to false; _good_ as giving His life. Mere hirelings desert the flock in danger.

_His work._ Knows each intimately--cares for wants. Dies that they may be saved. Seeks wanderers. Folds all safely in fold at last.

=Lessons.= The privileges of Christ's flock.

1. _Safety_ in the fold of His Church.

2. _Succour_ in time of want and danger.

3. _Sympathy._ They know Him, and He knows them.

=Christ the Door.=

It is said that the ancient city of Troy had but one way of entrance. In whatever direction the traveller went, he would find no way into the city but the one which was legally appointed, and the only one which was used by those who went in and out. There is only one right way to the favour of God, to the family of God, to the presence of God in prayer, and, finally, to the City of God in eternity, and that one way is Christ. "I am the way," He declares, "and no man cometh unto the Father but by Me."

MARCH 26TH.--Review Lesson.

_Golden Text--St. John x. 27._

Christ's divine nature been seen in twelve lessons with the results ensuing therefrom.

I. =True Light= (i. 1-14). Showing Father's eternal glory, power, wisdom. Dwelling as man among men to lighten their souls.

II. =First Disciples= (i. 29-42). Divinity testified by God's voice at His baptism. Faith shown by new disciples who saw Lamb of God.

III. =First Miracle= (ii. 1-11). Divinity shown by almighty power and glory in sympathy.

IV. =First Convert= (iii. 1-17). Christ as Teacher unfolds divine mysteries. He knows for He has seen. Nicodemus, a Pharisee, believes.

V. =First Samaritan= (iv. 5-26). Divinity shown by omniscience. Gives water of life. Samaritan woman and others believe.

VI. =First Child= (iv. 46-54). Christ gives fresh life to sick child. Nobleman believes.

VII. =Christ's Authority= (v. 17-29). Shares Father's counsels. Appointed Judge. All men honour Him.

VIII. =Multitude Fed= (vi. 1-14). He Who made world, supplies His people's wants. As God, He multiplies food; as Man, cares for and sympathises.

IX. =Feast of Tabernacles= (vii. 14, 28-39). Christ as God, gives life, also refreshment (like water) to soul by Holy Ghost. Thus, Three Persons in Godhead share work of man's salvation.

X. =Freeing from Sin= (viii. 13, 31-36). Divine power alone can free from bondage of sin and Satan. This Christ gives. Many believed on Him.

XI. =Healing Blind= (ix. 1-11). Christ's divine light opens eyes and heart. Blind man saved.

XII. =Good Shepherd=. Christ, Himself God, the way to God. Gives life by laying down His life. One fold, one flock, one Shepherd.

=Lessons=. 1. Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.

2. No man cometh to the Father but by Me.

3. Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief.

Christ, Lord of All.

During the last moments of a godly woman, speech had left her; but she managed to articulate the word "Bring." Her friends, in ignorance of her meaning, offered her food, but she shook her head, and again repeated the word "Bring." Thinking she desired to see some absent friends, they brought them to her; but again she shook her head; and then, by a great effort, she succeeded in completing the sentence--

"Bring forth the royal diadem, And crown Him Lord of all"--

and then passed away to be with Jesus.

APRIL 2ND.--Raising of Lazarus.

_To read--St. John xi. 32-45. Golden Text--Ver. 25._

Gospel began with miracle at joyful family gathering. To-day's lesson tells of sad gathering of family and friends at a funeral. He would again show divine power.

I. =Death Triumphant= (32-37). _Scene of sorrow_ at Bethany, two miles from Jerusalem. Little family, Lazarus and two sisters. Had received Christ before (St. Luke x. 38). Now the breadwinner has been taken ill and dies. Sickness, death, bereavement, all causes of sorrow and sadness. Had sent for Christ, but He had delayed to come (ver. 6). At last He arrives, but body had been buried. Martha meets Him first (ver. 21), then Mary. Both utter same reproach--had He been in time, their brother need not have died. Their faith weak. Thought of Him as Good Physician--did not fully realise His almighty power. How did this affect Christ? He was troubled, He sighed, He wept. His best friends not yet learned Who He was and what His power. To them sorrow, suffering, death, seemed to have triumphed. Was it so?

II. =Death Vanquished= (38-44). _Scene of joy._ A Conqueror of death is there. See actions of the different people. _Christ_ commands removal of stone. _Martha_ remonstrates--the body begun to corrupt--four days dead (no coffin, only wrapped in linen). Showed unbelief, after Christ's words (ver. 23). _Mary_ watches in silence, trusting in Christ to do right. _Jews_, expectant, roll away the stone as bidden. Then Christ speaks; thanks God for hearing His prayer; cries aloud to Lazarus. The dead man comes forth, is released from grave-clothes, and restored to his home. Death is swallowed up in victory.

_Result._ Many of the Jews believed. God's glory is manifested.

=Lessons.= 1. _Christ a loving Friend._ Can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.

2. _Christ a living Saviour._ Taught Martha, comforted Mary, restored Lazarus. Gives eternal life.

Faithful unto Death

In the excavations made at the buried city of Pompeii, the remains of a Roman soldier were found at one of the gates. Embedded in the once molten lava which swept down upon the doomed city was found the skeleton of the soldier whose post of duty was at the gate, still grasping a sword in its bony fingers. When the panic came upon the city, and those who could made good their escape, he had remained faithful to his sense of duty, and with resolute courage faced a fearful death. The Christian soldier can face death with equal courage, for he has obtained victory over sin and death through Jesus Christ his Lord.

APRIL 9TH.--The Anointing in Bethany.

_To read--St. John xii. 1-11. Golden Text--St. Mark xiv. 8._

Christ again at Bethany, preparing for His sufferings and death. Chief priests and Pharisees took counsel to kill Him (xi. 53). His friends gather in numbers to give Him a public welcome.

I. =Christ's Friends= (1-3, 7-9). _The feast._ Took place at Bethany, at house of Simon, once a leper. The family of Bethany all present--showed their regard for Christ in different ways. _Lazarus_, honoured guest, at the table with Him. _Martha_ giving of her skill in house-keeping (St. Luke x. 38). _Mary_ giving a costly present.

_The anointing._ Mary comes behind Christ--having fetched an alabaster box full of precious ointment--breaks the box, pours it on His head (St. Mark xiv. 3) and His feet (ver. 3), wiping them with her hair. The house is filled with sweet smell. Why did she do this? _It was an act of love._ Christ had done much for them--stayed with them, above all restored their brother to life. Another reason: Christ had lately spoken of His death as soon coming. This thought quickened her love to intensity. She must give it outward expression. She had kept it for His burial (ver. 7), but gives it now. _It was an act of self-denial._ Did not stay to count the cost, to think how little she need give. Gave the best gift she had. Would keep back nothing from Him. _The act was approved and accepted._ She did what she could.

=Lessons.= 1. Christ's death draws men's hearts (xii. 32). Therefore send the Gospel to all.

2. True love delights in self-denial. Deny self, take up cross and follow Christ.

3. Offerings accepted by God. Alms as well as prayers come before Him (Acts x. 4).

II. =Christ's Enemies= (4-6, 10, 11). _Judas_ grudges the gift--calls it waste--professes zeal for the poor. What was his real motive? Covetousness. Had been made treasurer of monies given to and spent by Christ and apostles. Hoped to get something out of it for himself. Was it waste? Gifts given to Christ cannot be wasted. Others will take note and copy. This loving gift has led multitudes to do what they can. Missionaries to give up lives for Christ, many to give money, work, service, etc. Even cup of water only given for His sake rewarded.

_Chief priests._ Consult out of envy to kill Lazarus. His rising led many to believe in Christ. Their power became less.

=Lesson.= Take heed, and beware of covetousness.

Which are we: friends or foes of Christ?

Give the Best you have to God.

It matters not how poor the offering, if given in the right spirit. A legend tells how once a little boy in church had no money to place among the offerings. So he gave a rosy apple, the only gift he had it in his power to offer. Presently, when the alms were removed, there was found among them an apple of gold. The simplest gift is in the sight of God as pure gold.

Our New Waifs.

In accordance with the announcement in our December number, we left it entirely to our readers to select the new QUIVER waifs. All the votes have now been received, and arranged, with the result that Rose Heelis heads the list of the candidates for Miss Sharman's Orphan Home, whilst John Harrison is the successful candidate for Dr. Barnardo's Home.

Our readers will doubtless be interested in the portrait of each to be found on this page, but it is unnecessary to repeat the particulars concerning these little ones which were given at the time we invited the votes. The support of the new waifs will involve a total annual expenditure of £31 (£15 for Rose Heelis and £16 for John Harrison), and for this amount we are relying upon the generosity of our readers. Contributions to the special Waifs' Fund will be gladly received, and duly acknowledged month by month in our pages. Such contributions should be addressed to the Editor of THE QUIVER, La Belle Sauvage, Ludgate Hill, London, E.C. A list of the donations to the fund during the month of January will be found on page 480.

Stooping to Conquer.

A peculiar feature connected with the Ancient and Honourable Artillery Company of Boston is that each officer, at the end of his term of command, which lasts a year, returns to the ranks as a private; thus there are something like a score of gentlemen who have had full control of the regiment, and who are now once more content to obey. Here is a lesson for those who serve in the Church Militant. We cannot all be colonels and generals--there must be a few private soldiers!--and it is certain that he who cannot obey is not fit to command. Much energy and temper is wasted by those who fight against sin and sorrow through unwillingness to take what is called a subordinate position. Surely this is to forget the Saviour's words--"If any man desire to be first, the same shall be last of all, and servant of all."

The "Welcome."

Sixteen years ago, the first restaurant for women in the City of London was started at 16, Jewin Street. The "Welcome" was opened in a five-storeyed house in the very midst of factories. It is now the centre of help of every kind for a class brought before the public in Sir Walter Besant's "Children of Gibeon." Hundreds of women frequent this place to refresh their jaded and chilled bodies with soup and bread at three halfpence or excellent meat-puddings at twopence. In cases of distress and starvation free dinner tickets are granted. Who can tell how many women this aid has saved from crime when hunger has driven them to the verge of stealing? The work of the "Welcome" is not limited to care for the bodies of City toilers. Three rooms are used for dinner and tea, three others for evening classes of various kinds. From six to half-past nine clubs, musical drill, sewing and improvement classes, services of song, missionary or Gospel temperance meetings, attract an attendance averaging from 270 to 300. The largest number come on Thursday evening, which is devoted to Bible classes. To many whose days are spent in hot workrooms the shady gardens lent on Saturdays by kind friends are like a new world. One girl asked if she could see the strawberry trees; another, why the bunches of grapes were tied to the top of glass-houses. The revelation of a new world outside their own limited sphere helps to raise the ambition to live a new and higher life.

"Nobody's Own."

Many regiments in the British army are called after and said to be owned by this or that prince or princess. There is "The Princess of Wales's Own," "Princess Charlotte's Own," and so on. One regiment, however, rejoices in the nickname of "Nobody's Own," because it is not named after anybody. It is a grand thing to think that no Christian can be called "Nobody's Own," for we are all called after Christ and owned by our Father in heaven.

New Books.

Elsewhere in this number will be found an illustrated article on "Childish Memories of Lewis Carroll," and we venture to think that readers of those reminiscences will require no pressing to turn to the biography of this universally favourite author, just published by Mr. Fisher Unwin under the title "The Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll." Mr. S. D. Collingwood, who is responsible for the work, frankly admits that it is impossible to give a really adequate presentation of the extraordinarily complex character of his late uncle. He has, however, produced a most able and interesting sketch, which includes many characteristic letters, and is profusely illustrated. Quite a different life-story is also before us in the form of the Rev. George Adam Smith's biography of his friend, the late Professor Henry Drummond (Hodder and Stoughton). No one could lay down this book without feeling that Drummond was in every sense a great man--with a great intellect, a great heart, and a constant, burning desire to be about his Father's business. It is true that he made mistakes, that he put forth certain theories not generally acceptable, and which he himself modified in later years, but throughout his life his honesty of purpose was unquestionable. His influence and power as a preacher and teacher were remarkable, and many of those whom he reached through his addresses and books will feel indebted to Dr. Smith for this critical and comprehensive story of his life.--From Messrs. Smith, Elder and Company comes a new story from our own contributor, Katharine Tynan, entitled "The Dear Irish Girl," of which we need say no more than that it is the love story of a most winning Irish lassie, written in the bright, entertaining style so well-known to our readers.--"Helps to Godly Living" (Elliot Stock) is the happy title of an excellent little work which consists of helpful and comforting extracts from the writings and addresses of the present Archbishop of Canterbury, selected and arranged by the Rev. J. H. Burn, B.D.--A pathetic interest attaches to the two dainty volumes of poems by the late Dr. J. R. Macduff, entitled "Matin and Vesper Bells" (Cassell), in that the author did not live to see their completion. Many of the poems have been already published independently in various forms, but we believe that this collected edition of Dr. Macduff's tender and inspiring verse will be heartily welcomed.--We have also to acknowledge the receipt of a tastefully produced volume entitled "The More Excellent Way" (Henry Frowde), in which the Hon. Mrs. Lyttelton Gell has carefully arranged the choicest extracts from the works of ancient and modern authors on "The Life of Love"; a collection of addresses on the Beatitudes by the Rev. J. R. Miller, D.D., entitled "The Master's Blesseds" (Hodder and Stoughton); an interesting and instructive work on medical missionary work amongst the blind in India, entitled "They Shall See His Face" (Bocardo Press, Oxford); "Aids to Belief" (Elliot Stock), a series of studies on the divine origin of Christianity by the Rev. W. H. Langthorne; and a volume of sermons by the late Charles H. Spurgeon, which have been published by Messrs. Passmore and Alabaster under the title "The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit."

A Wolf-Boy.

What was to be done with such a boy! The magistrate sahib of Bulandshahr had heard of Romulus and Remus, but rational people rejected the legend of their infancy. Yet here was a child of five or six years of age, crawling on the ground before him, and the statement of several witnesses that he had been smoked out of a wolf's den could not be disputed. These men were natives of India. Whilst travelling in a jungle of the Bulandshahr district, they saw a queer though undoubted specimen of humanity crawl into a hole. By the magistrate's order a fire was lighted at the mouth. Out sprang a snarling and indignant mother-wolf, which, after scattering the bystanders, fled for life. Behind her ran on all fours a little boy, who was speedily secured and conveyed to the magistrate. He was imbecile. He would eat no food but raw meat, and he tore any clothing placed on him into shreds. The magistrate sent him to the Church Missionary Orphanage at Secundra, a refuge for between four and five hundred children, nearly all infants picked up in the streets or by the roadside. There this child, who was found on Saturday, February 4th, 1867, grew up into manhood. On the same principle that Robinson Crusoe called his man Friday, the wolf-boy was named Sanichar, or Saturday. By degrees a certain amount of intelligence and a decided religious instinct developed. He became gentle and sociable, and ready with cheerful unselfishness to share the many little presents he received with his companions. He attached himself with great affection to one of the caretakers. On the death of this man, Sanichar in dumb sorrow and bewilderment looked from one to another of his friends for an explanation. They pointed to the grave, and then to the sky. The boy was deeply impressed, and ever afterwards, if he felt ill, he would feign sleep, and point first to the ground and then to the sky. He never learnt to speak, but perhaps he was trying to convey the impression that he looked forward to following his dear friend. Two other wolf-boys and one wolf-girl were brought to the Secundra orphanage, but they died soon afterwards. Whether they had been cast out by their parents or kidnapped by the inveterate robber-wolves of the district could not be discovered. They were a witness that tenderness, too often lost in heathenism, may be found in one of the most rapacious beasts. With hundreds of little outcasts under Christian care, they tell of a Father above who remembers even though parents may forget their children.

Memorial to a Medical Missionary.

Medical missions have come into deservedly increasing prominence of late years; and a few months ago a beautiful tablet was erected in Lewisham Congregational Church to the memory of Dr. Lockhart, the first Protestant medical missionary to China, who went out about the year 1838. The tablet is a beautiful piece of work in alabaster and marble, and is carved in the form of a triptych, _i.e._ in three panels, the medallion portrait occupying the centre. On the left hand panel appears the following inscription:--"In affectionate memory of Dr. Lockhart, first medical missionary to China, founder of hospitals at Macao, Shanghai and Pekin, who served the London Missionary Society with untiring zeal for twenty-six years in the mission field, and with unabated devotion in England to the last day of his life. Member of this church for thirty-seven years. Deacon and Church Secretary. Born October 3rd, 1811. Died April 29th, 1896." The following inscription appears on the right hand panel:--"This memorial is erected by those who admired him as a strong man, loved him as a friend, hold his services in grateful memory, and who pray that his zeal for missions and his devotion to the Church may inspire all who shall ever worship within these walls." The tablet is placed on the wall of the church near the vestry door, where Dr. Lockhart used often to stand before the service, watching the people enter.

Self-control.

A man who lately came over from America told the writer that on board the steamer one of the passengers went up to another in the smoking-room and asked him to have a drink with him. The man thus invited continued reading a newspaper and made no reply. The other man again asked him to drink with him. No answer again. A third invitation was then given in these words: "Sir, I have asked you in as friendly a way as possible to drink with me, and each time you went on with your reading, and had not the civility to answer me. Now I ask you for the third time if you will drink wine, whisky, or anything else with me?" The man then put aside his paper and answered very quietly: "Do you see that glass, sir? Well, if I were to take even a quarter of it, I could not leave off until I had drunk all the liquor on board. This is why I would not drink with you." All present admired the man's self-control, and learned a striking lesson on the danger of putting temptation in a brother's way.

An Ever-Recurring Question.

Two friends of the writer were sitting in a close carriage, discussing the problems of life--where we came from and whither we are going. The driver of the carriage went rather too near another vehicle. "Where are you going to?" shouted the driver of the latter. The occupants of the carriage looked at each other and remarked, "That is just what we were wanting to know." So it is that the great problems of life cannot be ignored, for they are reflected in the small incidents of daily existence. Particularly is this the case with the question whence we came and whither we are going. This can never be shelved.

The Circulation of the Bible.

Few people have any idea of the enormous number of Bibles published annually in this country. Mere figures of so many millions mean little to most folks. But it may give some more adequate idea of the vast number to put it as follows: The British and Foreign Bible Society, of Queen Victoria Street, alone publish above a million and a half of Bibles every year, or more than 4,100 every day. Now, if each of these 4,100 Bibles was of the average thickness of one and a half inches, they would, if piled upon one another, reach to a height of 6,159 inches. As the top of St. Paul's cross is about 364 feet or so above the level of St. Paul's Churchyard, this huge pile of Bibles would reach to a height nearly one and a half times as great as the top of the famous cross! Or we might represent the whole lot by one immense Bible, which would be 66 feet by 47 feet by 14 feet, and would reach from the steps leading to St. Paul's right to the top of the pillars there! And this would but represent the output for a single day of only one of the great Bible circulating mediums of this country!

_OUR INTERNATIONAL LEAGUE OF PEACE._

We are glad to be able to report that requests for forms are steadily being received, and a goodly number have been returned filled with signatures. To those of our readers who are striving to obtain the distinction of being the first to send in a thousand names (for which a prize of Ten Pounds is offered) we would say that it is not necessary for all the signatures to be given together. They should be forwarded in batches of fifty or a hundred, and credit will be given for every name so sent. The following letter which we have received from a correspondent at Birmingham is of interest, as it emphasises the fact that the Ten Pounds we offer will not only act as an incentive to activities on behalf of peace, but may also at the same time benefit some local charity. "Please send me," the correspondent writes, "some sheets of the International League of Peace. If I am fortunate enough to get the Ten Pounds, I am going to give it to some good society--whichever our clergyman thinks best. Trusting to hear from you by return."

The following is the form in which our memorial has been issued:--

"=We, the undersigned, desire to express our earnest sympathy with the peace proposals contained in the recent Rescript of his Imperial Majesty the Czar of Russia, and hereby authorise the attachment of our names to any international Memorial having for its object the promotion of Universal Peace upon a Christian basis.="

This may be copied at the head of blank sheets of paper, and the signatures placed beneath; but we shall be very pleased to send (post free) any number of printed forms on receipt of an application addressed to the Editor of THE QUIVER, La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C.

The objects of our League have already been endorsed, amongst other prominent men, by the =Lord Bishop of London=, the =Rev. Hugh Price Hughes= (President of the Wesleyan Conference), the =Rev. Samuel Vincent= (President of the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland), and =Pastor Thomas Spurgeon= of the Metropolitan Tabernacle.

THE QUIVER FUNDS.

The following is a list of contributions received from January 1st, 1899, up to and including January 31st, 1899. Subscriptions received after this date will be acknowledged next month:--

For "_The Quiver_" _Waifs' Fund_: R. Hutchinson, Boston Spa, 2s. 6d.; Readers of _The Christian_, per Morgan and Scott, £5; Miss Renée Benson, Grenoble, 1s. 6d.; J.J.E., Govan (134th donation), 5s.; A Glasgow Mother (104th donation), 1s.; E.A., 2s. 6d.; R.S., Crouch End, 5s.

For _Dr. Barnardo's Homes_: A Scotch Lassie, 5s.; Baby George, 2s. 6d.; J.R., 5s.; E.H., Devon, 2s.; Gertie, Finsbury Park. 3s.; M.A.C, 5s., An Irish Girl, 10s. 6d.; Madame Scaravaglioné, 10s.; A.K., 5s.; A Warwickshire Lass, 5s.; Anon., 2s. The following amounts have been sent direct:--R.H.B.P., 4s.; A.H., 10s; M.M.Q., £5; E.A.H., 7s. 6d.; A.W.O., 4s.; M. M., 5s.; M.E.B., 15s.; J H.W., 5s.; "Inasmuch," 6s.; T.P., Leamington, £1.

For _The Children's Country Holiday Fund_: Madame Scaravaglioné, 10s.; J. and E.H., £1.

For _Miss Weston's Homes, Portsmouth_: J. and E.H., £1.

For _The Robin Dinners_: Alice Bishop, 3s.

For _St. Mark's Hospital, City Road, E.C._: A Thank-offering, 1s.

The Superintendent of the St. Giles Christian Mission asks us to acknowledge the receipt of a parcel of clothing from Oakham, Rutland.

OUR FINE ART PLATES.

Doubtless many of our readers are interested in the announcement which has been appearing for several months past on our wrapper to the effect that certain coupons will entitle the holder to receive a set of Fine Art Plates for a trifling sum. We desire to supplement that announcement by stating that the pictures will be of sacred subjects, and will, moreover, be printed on specially prepared plate paper in order to obtain the best possible results. The selected paintings are by Lord Leighton, Sir John Millais, Edward Armitage, R.A., Ford Madox Brown, W. C. T. Dobson, R.A., and William Dyce, R.A., and the series will form an admirable selection of the best-known works of these famous artists--well worthy of a permanent place in every home.

ROLL OF HONOUR FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL WORKERS.

The =Special Silver Medal= and =Presentation Bible= offered for the longest known Sunday-school service in the county of =Durham= (for which applications were invited up to January 31st, 1899) have been gained by

MR. JOHN J. BAILEY, Newgate Street, Barnard Castle,

who has distinguished himself by _fifty-six_ years' service, principally in the Sunday School of the Barnard Castle Parish Church.

As already announced, the next territorial county for which claims are invited for the _Silver_ Medal is

DEVONSHIRE,

and applications, on the special form, must be received on or before February 28th, 1899. We may add that =Kent= is the following county selected, the date-limit for claims in that case being March 30th, 1899. This county, in its turn, will be followed by the territorial county of =Cheshire=, for which the date will be one month later--viz. April 30th, 1899.

The names of members recently enrolled will be found in our advertisement pages.

THE QUIVER BIBLE CLASS.

(BASED ON THE INTERNATIONAL SCRIPTURE LESSONS.)

QUESTIONS.

49. From what parable of our Lord do we gather that the sheepfolds in ancient times were large and surrounded by a high fence?

50. By what illustration does our Lord teach us that it is through Him alone we can be saved? Quote passage.

51. In what way does our Lord contrast His care of His people with the neglect shown by the Jewish teachers?

52. Quote passage which shows that Jesus had never attended any of the public Jewish schools?

53. In what words does our Lord speak of the Scriptures as God's revelation of Himself to man?

54. What were the two miracles performed by our Lord at Cana of Galilee?

55. What was especially remarkable in the miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead?

56. What reason did our Lord give for His delay in going to Lazarus when he was ill?

57. What was the effect of the miracle of raising Lazarus?

58. What reason have we for supposing that Simon the Leper was the husband of Martha, the sister of Lazarus?

59. What information does St. John give as to the character of Judas Iscariot?

60. What prophecy concerning our Lord was delivered by Caiaphas, the High Priest?

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 383.

37. In a desert (or uninhabited) place near Bethsaida on the north-west side of the Sea of Galilee (St. Luke ix. 10).

38. It was known as the Sea of Chinnereth (Numb. xxxiv. 11; Josh. xii. 3).

39. Because St. Philip was a native of the district of Bethsaida (St. John i. 44, and vi. 5).

10. The Jews thought that Jesus was the son of Joseph the carpenter, and born in Galilee; whereas they had been taught that no one would know of the birthplace or parentage of the Messiah (St. John vii. 27, 41; St. Luke iv. 22).

41. They sent officers to arrest Jesus (St. John vii. 2, 32).

42. Because on the last day of the Feast special sacrifices were offered for all Israel, and the priest, having taken water from the Pool of Siloam, poured it upon the altar (St. John vii. 37).

43. Because they understood that, as the "Light of the World," Jesus claimed to be the Messiah (St. John viii. 12; Isaiah ix. 2, and lx. 1).

44. "When ye have lifted up the Son of Man" (St. John viii. 28).

45. Jesus appears to have made the Jews unable to see Him, and so passed out of the Temple, going through the midst of them (St. John viii. 59; 2 Kings vi. 18).

46. That the disciples believed in the doctrine of "transmigration of souls," which was taught by the Jewish Rabbis at that time (St. John ix. 2; Josephus, "Ant." xviii. ch. 1, sec. 3).

47. By telling him to go and wash in the Pool of Siloam (St. John ix. 7).

48. The Jews excommunicated the man whose sight Jesus had restored--that is, they shut him out of the synagogue--thus depriving him of all religious privileges (St. John ix. 22, 34).

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed.

Missing page numbers are page numbers that were not shown in the original text.

The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in the List of Illustrations.