THE SCAPE-GOAT. HE High Priest of the people of Israel wore a very beautiful dress. (Exod. xxviii.) He had on his head a crown of gold, on which was written 'Holiness to the Lord;' his dress was of white and blue and scarlet, with pomegranates and bells of gold round the bottom, and on his breast he wore twelve different jewels, on each of which was written the name of one of the tribes of Israel. But every year on the great Day of Atonement, the High Priest put off this glorious dress, and put on the plain white dress of a common priest-and then two goats were brought to him, and he cast lots upon the two goats, one lot for the Lord, and the other lot for the scape-goat. The goat upon which the Lord's lot fell was then killed as a sin-offering for the people, and the High Priest took some of the blood within the vail into the Holy of Holies, the most sacred part of the temple, and there he sprinkled it upon the mercy-seat, and before the mercy-seat. And after this the High Priest took the other goat, which was called the scape-goat, and he laid both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confessed over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting them on the head of the goat. Then he sent the scape-goat away by the hand of a fit man into the wilderAnd the goat bare upon him all their iniquities into a land not inhabited. (Lev. xvi. 22.) ness. The goats of the Holy Land have long glossy hair, and in our picture we see the scape-goat weary and exhausted, bleating in the dry and barren land to which it has been taken, and where, perhaps, it will wander about till it die. In later times, when it was not easy to find a land not inhabited' near Jerusa lem, the scape-goat used to be led away to a precipice, twelve miles from Jerusalem, where it was thrown over the edge and was killed by dashing against the rocks. Like the other ceremonies of the law of Moses, this was a picture and foreshadowing of Christ. When our High Priest, 'Jesus the Son of God,' came down from Heaven to die for us, He put off His glory, and He took on Him the form of a ser vant.' When, like the one goat, He died He carried away all our sins like the other (the scape-goat), for the Lord had laid on Him the iniquity of us all. And now He is within the vail-that is, in Heaven itself, where He has sprinkled His blood mercy-seat for our salvation. on the THE STAFF AND THE LANTERN. (Continued from p. 155.) HE soft words of the stranger did not re her so much as the prospect of rest; and when he told her of all the ease and comfort of his house, and of all the sweets and luxuries of his table, she paused to listen. As she paused her foot pained her more, and instead of leaning more firmly upon her staff and looking at it by the light of her lantern, she, after a little persuasion, followed the man to his house. The lantern, however, threw no light upon her path, so she was content to follow the light of reason, the lamp which the deceiver carried. Now you must know that this lamp, which is called the light of reason, was not one of the deceiver's own make, but it was one he had stolen. In itself it was a very good light, but when any one trusted to it instead of the lantern Lucas gave, it could not be depended upon; and for this cause because its light was not white and clear, and things did not always appear in their right colours when it was used. Its light, too, was not steady, and it was sometimes like the Will-o'-the-wisp, shining out at one moment and showing the road, and at another time leaving one in utter darkDess. In fact, it was a light which was useful at times, but very often would lead those who trusted to it into bogs and ditches, and some using it have met with terrible-deaths. Now poor Clauda had no light but this to go by as she went with the deceiver, and as it flickered a great deal she often made false steps in the dark; and, poor child, when she got at last into the cottage she was so lame that she could scarcely walk. When she tried to use her staff, strangely enough she found it bend, and thus become useless. So sad and sorrowful was she when she got into the cottage, that she burst out crying. In a moment the deceiver tried all his powers to soothe her. The softest cushions were brought out, and she read upon them by the deceiver's light these words, 'Ease and comfort. She sat upon them, but they seemed full of thorns. He then brought her another, and the name written upon that was Luxury. At first it seemed like the softest wool, but presently it grew hard as a flint. Then, last of all, the food was brought to her, and she would have eaten freely; but she began to be afraid lest she should be poisoned after she had taken a little, for she never had tasted anything so nasty. She now felt so ill that she thought she should have died, but the deceiver, who put on his kindest looks, tried to comfort her. The seat now was so hard and painful that she could sit no longer, and she So attempted to get up, but her legs were so weak that they would not bear her. Almost in a state of despair, she tried with all her might to get out of the place. Then the wicked man laughed at her, and mocked her, and asked her if she liked being caught in his trap. But she answered him not, and made one more attempt to get out. Now she tried to get away on her knees, because she had no use in her legs below the knees, and she found to her delight that she made some progress. The deceiver laughed no more, but looked fearfully vexed, and quite trembled in rage: some invisible. hand seemed to prevent him from touching her. Her lantern, happily, was not lost, and she had not thrown aside her staff. when she got out of the house she ventured to hold the lantern to the staff, and being still afraid that she was poisoned, she said, 'Oh, I wish I could know what I have eaten !' and she read the words, The fruit of disobedience.' Happily, however, she was not quite poisoned; but still the fruit fearfully injured her constitution, and although she managed to find her way back again into the narrow road, yet she never regained the right use of one leg. The leg she partly lost the use of was called Faith, and the other leg Love. Poor Clauda, however, bore all the weight of her disabled limb upon the staff, and with that support she was in no danger of falling, if she used her lantern to point out the road and leaned upon the staff. She grieved very much, poor child, after her lost companions; but she could not overtake them, and they were not allowed to stop for ner. However, she had very shortly a sweet little girl for a companion. This little girl came to her in the most loving way possible, with a face full of tenderness and eyes of pity and compassion; and said, 'Dear Clauda, my heart is full of pity for you, to see you so lame. I am come from your Home, as a messenger from your friend Lucas, to comfort you and keep you company.' Now Clauda, having been lately deceived, did not receive her directly, but quietly asked her name, and at the same moment held the lantern to the staff. The sweet little girl said, 'My name is Mercy: I am one of the daughters of the King of the blessed country.' 'I can cure you, dear Clauda, if good Lucas bids me; but let me tell you, that nothing will tend so much to your cure as being often on your knees.' When Clauda found MR upon her staff the words 'God that showeth mercy,' she knew at once that her Lucas had sent this little companion to her, and she fell upon her neck and kissed her. 'Dear Mercy,' said Clauda, 'I am glad to see you, now that I know Lucas has sent you, and that you come from the blessed country. Now tell me how you know me so well, for you did not come to me as if you were a stranger but as a friend.' 'Dear Clauda,' replied her companion, 'I have long known you; I have been with you ever since you left the stream." 'Were you with me, then, when I went into the deceiver's house?' not Indeed I was, and I grieved over you; but I could not stop you. But did you notice, that after you fell upon your knees the deceiver could not keep you longer in his house? Well, it was I who held him back from touching you.' 'Are you going to stay with me a long time, dearest Mercy?' 'Just as long as you wish to keep me. I shall not go away unless you send me; but I cannot promise to be with you unless you keep in the strait path.' I 'Indeed I will never drive you away, do love you so much. But can you not cure my leg? It is so wretched to hobble thus along the road. I think surely you can help me, for since you have been with me, and since I know from whence you came, my limb has grown much stronger, although I can scarcely put it to the ground.' (To be continued.) MRS. LORIMER'S BABY. RS. LORIMER had a baby, the tiniest little snowdrop of a thing: it came one chilly winter's morning and made its parents' hearts very glad for six short months; and then, no one knew why, it gradually faded, and drooped, and died. They buried it in the large London churchyard where its old grandfather lay, and went home to their empty house very sorrowful. The Lorimers were rich people, and had every comfort and luxury about them, but they would have given all up if only they might have kept the wee thing who lay so quietly in its grave-bed at St. Margaret's. But it was not to be; and the servants, crying softly themselves over the loss, put away all the baby toys and dresses and pictures, and straightened the large airy room where the little one had so often laughed and crowed, hoping thereby to make their mistress forget her sorrow. But we read in Holy Scripture that a mother cannot forget her little child, and Mrs. Lorimer found it very hard to give it up; aye, even though she knew that it was the kind Saviour Who loved little children who had it safe in His keeping. Mr. Lorimer was very much grieved, too, to lose his child; but men have to go out in the world and work even amidst their grief, and this, though it seems hard at first, really does them good, and helps to keep their minds from dwelling on their troubles: so a few days after baby's death Mr. Lorimer was back in the bank, looking a little |
