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sure at any time to minister to her comfort-and the work entailed by her class at the Sunday School, gave her as much as she was able to do. But what she did, she did with eagerness, energy, and cheerfulness.
After a couple of years spent in this way, the cholera suddenly made its appearance in the village ; and terrible, indeed, were its ravages. Rich and poor, old and young, were alike stricken. Many of those who were able fled in terror and dismay from the dread disease, only to fall victims to it elsewhere. Christ's faithful disciples gathered together frequently in the church, to make supplication as well for others as for themselves. The timid were paralysed, the boldest shuddered, and the hardened and profane grew more hardened and more profane still, drowning their cares and fears in the miserable refuge of drink. Business was almost entirely suspended, and but one thought seemed to occupy the hearts of all - who would be the next victim ?
What did Rose think and do under this awful trial ? Did she want to flee from the danger? Did she feel any terror or alarm? She did feel timid at first - indeed, it was but in nature that she should; but not oue thought or one wish had she to flee from the danger. No, strengthened by her loving and Divine Saviour, she went forth in earnest faith and eager love, more than ever intent on her mission of mercy and charity. Wherever help was needed, there she went. The blessings and prayers of the suffering and the dying rose up to Heaven as a cloud of incense on her behalf. But the end was soon to come.
After a long and weary day of visiting and nursing she returned home, to find her own much-loved mother suffering from the first symptoms of the disease. Rose sat up through the long night watching, nursing,
and soothing her, and administering the remedies prescribed by the doctor; but all in vain. Ere the morning light arose, Mrs. Norman, after much suffering, had breathed her last.
Before many hours had passed, Rose herself lay, racked by the agony of the disease, without one kindly hand to smooth her pillow, without one friendly word to cheer her soul: for the servant had fled at the first alarm of Mrs. Norman's illness, the doctor was busily engaged at a distant part of the parish, and the neighbours had not yet heard of Mrs. Norman's death. At last an old cottager, who loved Rose better than herself, knocked at the door and entered the cottage ; and found there, stretched on her couch, all that remained on earth of the bright, happy, joyous Rose Norman, who had spent her whole life in works of faith and love, and who now, through the terrible gate of sorrow, and suffering, and death, had gone for ever to dwell with her blessed Saviour in Heaven.
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EAST.
OLD CHARLES' BIBLE.
* Thy Word is a lantern unto my feet; and a light
unto my paths,'—Ps. cxix. 103. YOU ask, little master, the reason I love my
old Bible so well; You ask why, whatever the season,
The same words I ponder and spell; In summer and winter you find me
At eve, when day's labours are o'er, Still reading the words that remind me
Of what I have read oft before.
TENTS. THE Arabs do not live in houses of stone or wood as we do.
They do not stay long in one place, but move about with their flocks, seeking those parts of the country where there is water for the animals to drink, and grass for them to eat. It would not be worth their while to build houses in such places, so they make tents of hair-cloths dyed black, and propped up by poles. The covering of the tents is stretched out with cords, and these cords are fastened to stakes. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, lived in tents, and so did the children of Israel while they were wandering in the wilderness. Before the Temple was built, the Ark of God was kept in a large and beautiful tent or tabernacle, and there the priests sacrificed, and the people worshipped God. At one of the great feasts of the Israelites called 'the Feast of the Tabernacles,' all the people lived for seven days in booths or tents made of green boughs. A number of tents together is !
called a camp.
For He Who was born in a manger,
Yet giveth us all daily bread, His life full of sorrow and anger
With nowhere to lay down His head: And He has a place up in Heaven
For you, little master, and me, Where all who to serve Him have striven
• The King in His beauty'shall see.
So now you know why, little master,
I love my old Bible so well, And how, as old age still comes faster,
It seems more of comfort to tell; Oh, may you, when childhood is ended,
And grey hairs shall cover your head, By faith in its teaching defended, In the light of its promises tread.
M. II. F. D.
MARTIN BLACK'S CHILDREN.
AVE you ever had a day-dream
in which you imagined yourself very rich and prosperous, and doing a great deal of good in the world ; feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, teaching the ignorant, and consoling the mourner ? and then, have you ever thought
with discontent of yourself, as one who would have been capable of great things if a less obscure corner in life had been allotted to you? As it is, with no spare money and no ligh position, nothing surely can be expected from you
in the way of benefiting mankind. With birds and beasts which he had in a shed this last thought I imagine you wrapping
outside the house. For if ever a village yourself up in that ugly top-coat of selfish- boy got tired of a pet, or if an animal ness which disfigures so many people. sickened and was given over, it was always Wait a minute, however, before you button carried to Martin, till the half Infirmary, it, and let me tell you the story of one half Refuge, was crowded with inmates. Martin Black.
Guinea-pigs and rabbits galloped about When he came into the world, a little among white mice and kittens; canaries, whining baby, people shook their heads and bullfinches, and such-like pretty song birds, talked of poor Mrs. Black, and her heavy shared their quarters with young owls : and trials-husband just dead, three growing all were Martin's darlings. lads to support, and now this worst trouble The gentry of the neighbourhood smiled of all. For Martin was deformed from his on the boy's collection, and chiefly supbirth. Mrs. Black was a weakly, fretful ported it by grants of green food and grain. woman, and readily took up the strain of Besides sick animals, crying children, beglament: she was not unkind to Martin, but gars, and people in trouble, seemed to come she often said in his hearing that he must naturally to little Martin; he did them all always be a burden, and she trusted the good, he found a spare nut in his dormice good Lord would soon take him to Himself. stores for the little ones; he
supper Though Martin was very young, this sort to the really hungry tramp, and he would of talk grieved him, and he very early began sit and listen by the hour to the poor
soul to try to be of use to his mother, just to in trouble, with a look of sympathy in his prove that he was not a burden.
that could not fail to comfort. kindly little lad too, and liked helping the This was Martin's childhood. Not an pale, complaining woman. So at six years unhappy one.
. At twelve years old his old he could ligbt the kitchen fire, get mother died, his brothers went out into the breakfast, and sweep the room almost as world, and the 'ad went to live with his well as a grown woman.
shoemaker master. With the home cottage Now Mrs. Black changed her tune. the strange menagerie had to be given up, Martin was the only one who helped her at but Martin did not grieve much, for he all; as for Jim, and Jonas, and Henry, big wanted his pence for other things now. lads that they were, they grudged her the But no one knew for a long time where old couple of shillings on Saturday night, and Widow Fussell's ounces of tea came from, wanted to spend all their wages on them- nor who took poor foolish Father Smith in selves.
the workhouse his bits of snuff and tobacco, Martin's next step in life was apprentice- since his grandchildren left the village. ship to a shoemaker; he must learn some Martin turned scholar too, attended a trade, and bis infirmity prevented his taking night-school, and made himself a good to hard outdoor work. It was a real joy to reader and writer; he had always had a him to bring home a trifle to the family capital notion of accounts, and could tot up purse; he carried every farthing that he a sum in his head to the wonder of the earned to his mother, save, that now and village world.
His great drawback was his then he kept back some little sum towards health; he suffered from asthma, the result, the maintenance of a numerous family of poor lad, in a measure, of his deformity.
He was a