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TIMOTHEUS AND PHILEMON.
We repeat these prayers together every
day. (Continued from p. 211.)
"Well,' said the man, will you repeat CHAP. IV.
the “ Our Father” to me?' THE PIOUS GARDENER.
Both at once upraised their little clasped N this village there lived a rich hands and began to pray, and looked as
Turk named Ibrahim, who they said the words, Which art in Heahad a large and splendid ven,' so devoutly up to Heaven that the garden. He kept a very good man was touched and delighted. He clever gardener, who served praised them, and told them his name was him well. His garden was so Antonius, and that he too was a Chrisfull of fruit and vegetables,
tian. Then both boys reverently wished that not only was the house abundantly sup- to kiss his hand. He would not consent plied, but a great deal too was sold in the to this, but exhorted them, as a father, to market.
remain true to the Christian faith, and to One day the two boys were sent into the trust in God. rich Turk's garden to fetch a basket of 'Believe me,' he said, with a devout look vegetables. The gardener, an elderly man, towards the sky, the good God will have was also a Christian slave. He had just pity upon you, and guide you back again been digging round a garden-bed, and was at last to the arms of your worthy father. now sitting to rest on the grass under the Then he blessed them, filled their basshadow of a tree. He was reading a ket with vegetables, and presented them book, beside him lay a spade, a piece of with many flowers. They hastened home rye-bread, some cheese, and a pitcher of delighted, and gave the beautiful flowers water. When the two boys, each holding to the Turk's children. a handle of the basket, stood before him, The boys now often went to the garden he looked on them with pity. Their sweet to fetch vegetables. The Turk's children faces, their likeness to each other, their thought themselves too grand to carry pretty Hungarian dress which they had the basket, so they were glad that the brought with them from their father's boys went so willingly. As they always house, struck him at once. He greeted shared with them the flowers and fruit them kindly in the Hungarian tongue, and which the gardener gave them, the Turks told them that he was their fellow-country- children used to say, “We like much better
Both felt great joy when they heard that you should go with the basket, for the their native language. The man asked
gardener never gave us such beautiful them how they had fallen into slavery. flowers and nice fruits when we fetched They told him their story, and both began the vegetables.' to weep bitterly when they mentioned the So the boys went now nearly every day to name of their beloved father.
the garden. The good Christian gardener gardener comforted them, and asked them had always something instructive and inif they had received instruction in the teresting to tell them.
They used to Christian religion.
look forward to the happy quarter or Oh, yes!' they said. "We have learned half hour they should spend with him. the Lord's Prayer and the Apostles' Creed. At last, at their request, Selim allowed
them to spend an hour a-day with their was dead, the last thing was gone that friend the gardener when his day's work cared for her, and for whom she would ever was over. This was the happiest hour they enjoyed in that unchristian land. They “She spoke so roughly, my dear, you thanked God every day for granting them would have been quite terrified,' said Miss such a good priest for a teacher.
Jemima. 'I would not advise you to go (To be continued.)
near the house, for it is of no use-she was
quite abusive. THE POWER OF LOVE.
Mary Trapp had once been a servant of A UNTIE,” said Flora Morrison, one the Morrisons', but having given way to a
spring morning, 'I am so grieved ; | love of drink, she had first estranged her that sweet little baby of Mary Trapp's is husband, who was not a perfect character dead—carried off by convulsions last night.' himself, and had gone off to America and
'I have heard so, my dear, and can hardly left her; then she set all her friends at say I regret it. Mary is so hardened a
defiance, Miss Jemima among the number. character, that it seems like a judgment The one good feeling left to her was love upon her; and she certainly was unfit to for her only child, and when little Louie train up a child for the Lord. I mean to was taken from her she was like a tiger call to-day, however, and try to impress
bereft of its young. upon her the duty of taking this chastise
* Poor Mary!' said Flora, sighing, 'I am ment to heart.'
sorry for her.' “Oh, auntie! wait a bit, please,' said Even the neighbours keep away,' anFlora, anxiously. “They say—the maids, I swered Miss Jemima. Mary rages at them mean—that Mary feels it dreadfully; and all. She seems almost to have lost reason.' all the week that baby has been ailing she *Poor thing!' said Flora again ; 'if only has never taken anything to drink, but has we could comfort her!' sat up all night with it.'
Flora took a severe cold, and was shut "I must do what I consider my duty, up in the house for some days, so she could Flora,' replied Miss Morrison in a hard
not venture out over the wet fields to Mary voice, and not refrain from rebuking Mary Trapp's cottage, as, in spite of her aunt's Trapp from any weak motive. A word in
warning, she meant to do. She puzzled season, you know.'
much over poor Mary's case.
Litton, her Aunt Jemima was a good, upright, maid, plainly refused to go near the woman. austere woman, ruling more by fear than I daren't, miss,' she said, Mary scares me love; and Flora, a warm-hearted girl, often with her wild ways; and they do say she is differed from her in her plans of managing mad with grief now.' ber servants, the poor, and others around So Flora had to content herself with her. She was sorry, therefore, but not sur- waiting till she was better, and meantime prised, when her aunt returned from a visit
she made a beautiful wreath of spring to Mrs. Trapp the washerwoman, that even- flowers to lay on baby Louie's coffin, as she ing, with the remark that Mary was sadly had learned to do when staying in Germany, hardened, would listen to no good advice, The gardener took it to Mary Trapp's house and had plainly told Miss Jemima to go and laid it on the doorstep. away and leave her; for that, now the baby That afternoon was the funeral. Flora
"She made a wreath of flowers to lay on baby Louie's coffin.' was better, but her aunt would not let her safe with the angels, instead of being left to go out; which grieved her, as she would have her poor sinful mother's care. liked to be with the poor mother when they Flora had a pretty sitting-room, with buried her only child. She cried a little
She cried a little a window looking into the garden: here she out of pity for poor Mary when she heard retired as evening came on, and threw berthe church bell. As for baby Louie, it was self into an arm-chair, too sad to care to good for her, even Flora could see, to be ring for the lamp or employ herself in any Mary on her way to the Morrisons' cottage. way, and only thinking how poor Mary of her baby, not crying, but casting hard was getting over these first hours without glances back to meet the pitying ones of
the villagers. “They think it serves me Aye, indeed! and how did it fare with her, right—that I wasn't fit to rear a child, she
' the heart-broken woman, estranged from said to herself;“they think, as Miss Jemima her fellow-creatures, and not at peace with does, that it is good for me to lose Louie, God? She had crept home after the burial and be left the most desolate woman in
all Woodmerton : they shan't come and little lost lamb! Mary tried to look hard, , triumph over me now though, for I'll shut but could not, and the two women wept my door on all of thein.'
in company. For the next half hour there And she did shut and lock her cottage- was nothing spoken of but Louie, her gentle door, sinking exhausted into a chair after- ways, her pretty looks, her terrible but short wards, and turning restlessly over and over struggle, and her soft sinking into her last a bit of paper which she held in her hand. sleep. The sexton had given it to her; it had been And now I've lost all I care for!' said tied on that white wreath which some one Mary, hopelessly. bad sent to her house that afternoon. Mary No, Mary, you have not really lost had twisted it almost into tatters before she Louie, she is still yours,' said Flora ; 'waitsaw there was writing on it, and then she ing for you, always remembering you as smoothed it out and read the words, ' From her tender mother.' one who loved Louie, and who loves you.' Aye! I never said a rough word to her,
She knew Miss Flora's writing, and the said Mary; and I reckon if she'd grown up sentence touched her. Aye, that's true! she couldn't always have said that: there's she did love my Louie, and she always had comfort for me there, Miss Jemima would a kind word for me—not just hard advice say.' like Miss Jemima. But she might have been Don't talk about Aunt Jemima,' said to see me these last days.'
Flora ; "she's very sorry
for you, Mary: but And then Mary's bard thoughts came all people can't show their grief in the back again, but they did not stay long.
And as for baby Louie, never She grew restless, and opened the cottage- forget her, but try, oh try, dear Mary, to door. The shower-clouds still overcast half make yourself into the fit sort of mother to the sky, but the moon was bright. hold a baby-angel in your arms.
I'll help drew her shawl round her and stepped out, you, I'll care for you; only don't look bard, though the air made her shiver.
and don't give up.' ‘Loves me, does she?' Mary muttered. And Flora got up and kissed the rough • Bad that I am, if only I was sure of it I woman, who had once been young and think my head wouldn't feel so queer; she'd gentle, and good too. As for poor Mary tell it me plainer if I went to her.' And Trapp, she was quite won over ; but worn only half knowing what she was doing, out with grief, and fasting and watching, she Mary made her way over the stile into the could say nothing, and only sank down sobmeadows, towards the Morrisons' house. bing in her wretchedness and repentance.
Flora was surprised to see the dark figure Flora stole out of the room, locking the standing by her low window, but in a second door behind her to keep intruders away, and she knew it was poor Mary, and drew her quickly got a cup of tea from her own into the room with soft words of comfort. room, and then she roused poor Mary and
You're all alone, are you?' asked Mary; gave her the tea, and bade her hope for the 'none of them servants, nor Miss Jemima ?' future. And Mary went home comforted,
Quite alone,' said Flora. 'Come in, and resolved to begin life anew. Mary, and tell me about your little darling.' “My dear,' said Miss Jemima to Flora
Then she spoke no word of reproof or the next Sunday, 'was that really Mary advice, but just shed quiet tears for the Trapp I saw sitting in the dark corner by