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MATTY'S BIBLE.

see yo'agen, the times and times as aw?ve

looked out for the train as yo' missed that (Concluded from p. 43).

'ere day, hopin' fur to see yo', but yo' niver R. MARKHAM stepped coomed. Aw'd been fur t’ look out that

into the kitchen and took a'ternoon as aw were took bad.'
the chair that was offered My little woman,' he said, deeply touched
to him. Jenny resumed, - by her childish earnestness, “I never dreamt

When didst ta know that you'd care to see me again, or I'd bave awer Matty ?'

found you out long ago. I thought very • It's more than a year likely you'd forget all about me.' since. I found her spend- * Forget yo'!' she echoed, her eyes gleam

ing her afternoon at the ing with a wonderful light. "Why, yo' were Well’s Dale Station, and we had some talk the fust person as iver telled me aught together. I dare say, though, that she about God, an' yo' gived me my Bible too! won't recollect it. Still I should like her See, here it is, sir;' and she drew her to know that I am here, and shall be very treasure from beneath her pillow. Yo pleased if there is any little thing I can telled me as it ’ud larn me ivery thin' as aw do to make her more comfortable. What had ought for to know, an' it has larned me. does the doctor order ?'

Aw've telled no more lees, sir ; leastways Why, if aw dunnot belave as yo’re the aw've tried not. It were yo' as telled me gen'leman as gived her her Bible as hoo fust as God hates 'em.' makes sich a dale on! Not rec'lect yo'! “Ah, Matty,' said the gentleman soHoo's niver tired o' talkin' 'bout yo' now as lemnly; 'if I tried to teach you then, I hoo's bad. Hoo'll be rare an' glad when think I must come to you to be taught aw tells her as yo’se here.'

now.' So she had bought the Bible after all, The child gazed at him wonderingly; and she remembered him!

she did not understand: but her cough "Is she fit? Would she care to see me, troubled her and she spoke no more for a do you think? he asked.

time. Mr. Markham raised ber higher on Jenny had no doubt at all on the sub

her pillows. ject, and went upstairs to prepare the little • You have talked enough,' he said ; 'I invalid for her visitor. In a few minutes dare not let you exert yourself any more, more the desire of Matty's heart was ful- but I will come soon again.' filled, her eyes rested once more on the Tears brimmed to her eyes. Dunnot countenance of her friend. He took her go jist yet,' she entreated. Mebbe aw'li little wasted hand in his, and seated him- be gone to Heaven when yo' cooms agen. self quietly by her bed, saying,

Aw'd niver a' knowed about Heaven if it My poor child! I wish I had known hadna ben for yo':' before that you were ill. I am very sorry And you are not afraid to go, Matty?' to see you like this.'

Aw'd a' ben sore afeared if it hadna ben Her cheeks were flushed with excite- for yo'. But now aw'm glad, cos aw knows ment, her voice was choked with emotion, as Christ ull tak care on me; and He loves as she answered :

me, an' ull have me to live wi' Him. An' ‘Aw niver thought as God 'ud let me then aw shall be olez good. Aw shanna

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want my Bible then. Aw thinks aw'd which had been as a lamp unto her feet loike as Jenny should have it a'ter aw’m through her later passage on earth, which gone. Jenny's ben rare an' good to me was even now lighting up her entrance into while aw've ben bad;' and she looked in- Heaven. quiringly at Mr. Markham.

May the gift so blessed to our little Matty But he had shaded his eyes with his prove a like blessing to its new owner ! hand, and did not catch the glance. Matty

EMMA RHODES. asked anxiously :

• Mebbe yo’ would loike it yo’sel', sir? I niver thought o' that.'

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EAST. 'No, dear little Matty,' he said. “I have a Bible of my own,

which

my
mother

THE WINE-PRESS.
gave me years ago; but I'm afraid it has
never been to me what yours has to you.

N countries where grapes are I said I must come to you to be taught.'

abundant, the Vintage, or He took his leave soon afterwards, pro

the time when they are mising to return on the morrow. And that

gathered, is as joyful a seavery night a hamper arrived filled with

son as harvest is in England. picture-books, and all kinds of dainties.

Men and women go to the The kind thought filled Matty's heart with

vineyard with songs and gratitude and pleasure, but otherwise she shouts, and when they have gathered was too ill to profit much by the gift. She

the rich clusters, they bring home basketsslept more than usual during the night,

full on their heads. Some are eaten but it was the sleep of exhaustion. And fresh, some dried into raisins, and some in the morning it was evident to every one

made into wine. These last are thrown that she had not many hours to live. But into a stone trough, and the juice is she was conscious throughout the day, and trodden out by men, who sing and shout listened eagerly as the afternoon wore on as they jump, or join with their voices in for Mr. Markham's arrival.

tunes played by musical instruments. The Mebbe he winnut coome a'ter all,' said garments of the workmen are often stained Jenny, trying to prepare the way for a pos- of a blood-red colour, and for this reason sible disappointment.

battles and great slaughter are spoken of But Matty never doubted; had he not as '

'treading the wine-press. The progiven his word ? And, notwithstanding phet represents our Lord Jesus as saying, some laughing pressure from his friend * I have trodden the wine-press alone' Rigby, Mr. Markham was true to his pro- (Isa. lxiii. 3), meaning that He had had mise, and little Matty felt the warm clasp

to bear Himself the sufferings by which of his hand as her own was chilling in

the world was redeemed. death,

Drunkards used to mix their wine with 'God bless yo',' were almost her last drugs to make it stronger; but wise men words as her wistful eyes looked grate- mixed it with water. fully into his face.

Then she feebly pushed her one precious possession towards Jenny,--the Word

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MORNING; OR, IS IT ONLY A LANDSCAPE?' CHILDREN seldom care for landscapes. Few children have had the beauty of real

When they look through a book of landscapes pointed out to them, so how pictures I often hear the words, Oh, that should they care for pictured ones? Besides, is only a landscape ! turn on.' No one can

if they go with their friends from the close wonder at this, and no one can blame them. towns,- from the continual bricks and

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mortar, to the fine scenery of nature, it talk about it just a little, you will be able is enough for them to find pretty moss, really to like it, and perhaps will soil the or to jump over the great stones, or to page

of

your “Keble” as much as I did from run down the steep sides of the hills; to frequent reading of it, and learning it by find caves of all sizes, to get flowers, to heart.' Strange to say, it will suit you who start rabbits, and to paddle in the little rill live in a town, as it suited me who lived in of water that trickles down the face of some the flattest, ugliest country you can imagine. rock, where cracks along the flat side of it This landscape, called Morning,' so reminds seem to let the little stream and the little me of it. It is the hymn for the First Sunferns and mosses out together. It is suitable day after Epiphany.

J. E. C. F. to the children to enjoy the unpacking the lunch, or the filling the kettle and feeding SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE the gipsy fire, quite without any raptures

COULD.' about colours and mists, and clouds and HE was poor, and plain, and all alone shadows. And is it not happy that it is so ? in the world,—a state of things likely For elders and youngers can then enjoy to make most people look sorrowful, and together in full perfection their day's, or for a time Bertha Moore did wear a very week's, or month's holiday.

sad face. It was so strange never to hear And so, when the young folk have a her mother's voice, nor the shrill chatter picture-book, they often like the elder folk

of Janie, the last little sister who faded to look it through with them; and what I and died in the old home. Then the old want is, that when they come to a picture home, too, the pleasant farm-house in the of mountains and mists, and trees and seas, green country, how different the one room they will not wish to rush on impatiently to in the dull town lodging-house seemed ! the next puppy-dog or group of children, Yet that must now be Bertha's home, for but remember that it is a pleasure to others in the town she could best make a living. to look at the landscapes. Perhaps they A new and sad necessity for her—at least are saying, as they look at a print of the Bertha thought it sad at first; in time she glorious morning lightening up the sky, grew to believe it a good thing that she had . It was beautiful like that, with the sun little leisure to brood over her troubles, but tipping the waves with crimson, and the must brisk up and work hard for her daily sky all barred with gold, and the trees and bread. the wet rocks glittering like diamonds, that Bertha Moore of the Chestnut Farm, was morning when we climbed such a mountain, lost now in Miss Moore the daily governess, or walked through such a valley. Or

who taught Mr. Steele, the ironmonger's, perhaps they remember the lines, four children. Mrs. Steele came out of * These are Thy glorious works, Parent of Good,

the same neighbourhood as the Moores, Almighty; Thine this universal frame,

and knowing Bertha to be a steady, wellThus wondrous fair: Thyself how wondrous then!'

educated girl, she had written to advise her Or, perhaps, some very kind, thoughtful to come to Widebridge on the break-up of friend will say, “Bring me the Christian her old home, when she promised to try Year, my child; there is one hymn so pretty, and find her employment. and so simple, that I really think if I read She sews beautifully, and knows French it to you, and perhaps explain, or at least and Latin,' said Mrs. Steele to her hus

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