THE HEDGE OF THORNS. (Continued from p. 123.) CHAPTER III. ATURDAY came, and even Clement's spirits revived under the bright spring sunshine and the holiday freedom. Remember, James is to call for us directly after dinner; you'll be ready, won't you?' said Harry, getting out his own lessonbooks. O yes,' was the easy answer, there's lots of time yet,' and Clement turned another page of his darling Robinson Crusoe. 'I don't know, it's getting on,' said Harry, and there's the tool-house to set to rights. Simpson will be home again on Monday, and will make ever such a fuss if we leave it in a mess and it's just as likely as not mother may send us on an errand; she often does on a Saturday morning, doesn't she?' What a fidget you are!' cried Clement, good-humouredly enough, but with a little worried shake of the shoulders. It will be all right.' 'You'll help me with the tool-house?' 'Yes, of course; now do be quiet for a bit, will you?' 'Clement,' said Mrs. Harley, looking in shortly afterwards, 'I want you to run for me with a note to Mrs. Booth's.' Clement dragged himself up from the easy-chair in which he was lolling, and put down his book. 'But you are learning your lessons?' "They are learned then, I hope? Didn't you say you had fixed to go out with James Barlow in the afternoon?' "Yes, but perhaps there'll be time for me just to run with your letter.' 'Not, I'm sure, if you have learned none of your lessons yet." I'll go, mother,' said Harry, starting up. Only then, Clement, you must do the tool-house without me-at least if I'm not back till dinner-time; Mrs. Booth so often keeps one.' 'And I want an answer to the note,' said Mrs. Harley. Just finish your lessons first, and then you will be sure of them. And you, Clement, set about yours, too; if there's the tool-house to make neat, there's no time to be lost, and you know how Simpson dislikes everything being turned upside-down. Remember, you've had all the seeds and everything about this morning; you must take care and leave all quite neat, for it's Sunday to-morrow, you know.' So Clement got down his lesson-books, and stretching himself full-length on the sofa opened his Latin Grammar at the right place. He did not learn very much, however, a long-drawn gape interrupted him every now and then, and his attention would keep wandering off to the pattern of the paper on the wall, or to Tartar, where he lay basking in the sun upon the mat before the French window. Harry had soon finished his work, and began to put his books tidily away. You'll not forget the tool-house,' he said to his brother. "You know how we upset the shelves looking for the seeds and labels. I shall have no time when I get back, I'm sure.' 'Oh, I'll do it, honour bright,' was Clement's ready assurance. 'It's only fair, if you go the errand instead of me.' And you'll lock the door, and hang the key in its place?' 'Yes, yes, YES!' shouted Clement after him. "What a fussy, precise old woman you are! Come here, Tartar.' Tartar's muzzle was quickly in his young master's hand, and the presence of his favourite did not help Clement much with his lessons. The clock on the mantle-shelf striking the half-hour gave him a start. Oh, dear! there's the tool-house! and I don't even know my grammar!' he cried. 'Well, I must have my lessons perfect, I daren't risk them: and if I haven't time for those horrid garden things before dinner, I must settle them after we come home in the evening. But if I buckle-to now I shall manage all before Harry is back.' And for once-with the shadow of the 'cribbed' exercise still upon him-he did buckle-to;' and when the dinner-bell rang he could run off gaily to wash his hands, for all was ready for Monday. There was the tool-house, to be sure, but that did not trouble him greatly; it was only a matter of cutting their expedition short by halfan-hour; or of running home a bit faster than James and Harry. Dinner was over and the boys were ready to start. Come along, Tartar, old boy,' called out Clement. 6 No, it'll never do to take him,' said James Barlow. He'd frighten the birds; and besides, they'd be making a row if we took a dog into woods and places.' 'Poor old fellow! Then you must be left behind, must you?' And Clement patted Tartar's head fondly, and, not without much reluctance, shut him up safe somewhere while they got the start. It's not half the fun without dear old Tartar,' he said to himself regretfully; but in the heat of egg-collecting the absent pet was at last forgotten. And the tool-house was forgotten, too. No thought of the disorder there, or of Simpson's anger, came to cloud the pleasure of that bright Saturday afternoon. The boys came home late and tired, but full of delight with their successful excursion; they had got several kinds of eggs they particularly wanted for their collections, and a fair division of the spoil had to be made before James left them. It was not till he was gone that Clement missed Tartar, and inquired what had become of him: no one seemed to know, but Mr. Harley had seen him in the garden during the evening. 'Just before you lads came in,' he answered to Clement's eager question. But never mind him now, I'll see after him tonight; it's time you were in bed, so off with you, there's a good boy.' Clement obeyed, little dreaming of the trouble that awaited him in the morning, the sharpest wound he had yet had to suffer from his cruel Hedge of Thorns. (To be continued.) MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EAST. IN SITTING AT MEAT. N the Holy Land they did not sit at meat on chairs, as we do, but they lay on benches or sofas, with their faces towards the table, and their feet towards the wall. This must have been the way in which our Saviour was lying, when the woman came behind Him, and washed His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head, and poured the ointment on them. When St. John was leaning on the bosom. of Jesus, and asked Him who it was that should betray Him, they must have been seated, or lying, in the same way. If the master of a feast wished to show honour to any persons at the table, he sent them some of his own dish, as when Joseph sent meat to his brothers from the dish before bim. children, have looked as happy, do you think? You, who cry perhaps at the sting of a wasp, complain when your Sunday frock is not so fine as you would like it to be, or when there is no cake for tea, should you have looked so happy with prison dress, prison fare, and the thoughts of such a death? This Roman boy was so happy because he was a Christian, and going to suffer shame and death for Jesus' sake; and when next day, before many thousands of heathen Roman people, he was torn in pieces by the lions, God gave him strength from Heaven to bear the dreadful pain, and He took his happy soul to Heaven to join the glorious and noble army of martyrs, of whom we sing in our beautiful Te Deum. Many, many hundred years later, a poor, little, half-starved boy, was creeping slowly out of a Mission-room, in one of the most neglected and dirty parts of London—a part so bad that no one but the clergy, missionaries, and doctors, dared to venture there. It was a bare, dull room, under an old warehouse, but every Sunday evening a few earnest Christians out of the hundreds of heathen who lived around them went there, quietly and cautiously, to hear God's Word. They went cautiously, because of the jeers and jibes and possible ill-treatment of their neighbours. Little Tom had gone there first with an old cobbler, who lived in the same house with his drunken mother and himself. First for the warm fire and quiet comfort, then because he there learnt to know and love his Saviour; and, little as he was, he had made up his mind to be a Christian boy. Tom's mates, Bob and Harry, found out one evening where Tom was gone, and from that time there was no peace for him: jeers, threats, taunts and abuse, were heaped upon him; but still little Tom crept Sunday even ing after Sunday evening to this happy place. This particular night he had just safely, as he thought, reached the end of the narrow and gloomy lane which led to the Mission-room, when, with savage shouts, four boys, Bob and Harry and two others, rushed out of a dark passage, and threw four big stones at little Tom's head, and then ran away. When little Tom awoke again the sun. shone brightly into a large and cheerful room; texts in many pretty colours were on the walls and a gentle-looking woman was walking round from bed to bed, for little Tom was in an hospital. He was terribly bruised and hurt, and he lay, after the policeman had found him and brought him to the hospital, for many days unconscious, and, as the doctors thought, dying: but little Tom did not die; his time was not yet come; God had more work for him to do; and in the hard-working, zealous City missionary, who thinks no court or no alley too bad, too dirty, or too lost, for him to go into and tell the people of a Saviour's love, we may find again the little martyr Tom. M. F. A GENTLE TEMPER. SWEET is it to see a child, Tender, merciful, and mild, God is love, and never can |
