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as though a sudden thought struck the worthy man, he seized his thumb, which was the only finger to which a P had not been appropriated, and said, “and plenty of them." “ These P's are great things,” continued the carpenter, "and they'll do wonders if one has them always near him ; and if I may make bold enough to say it, Mr. Barton, perhaps the reason the class don't get on with you is for the want of them.”
It was impossible for John Barton to be offended with the worthy man, although his conscience pressed him very hard, and he felt that he knew very little of the P's; he determined, therefore, to think the matter over, and see how things really stood, before he gave up his class. That evening he catechised himself on each of the P's mentioned by the carpenter.
Quest. “Have I been Patient ?”
Answer by John Barton's conscience. “You were in a fret with John Desmond for not being able to repeat his lesson this morning ; you lost your temper with James Brown for bringing apples to school; you gave Ned Warren a rap on the side of the head for looking about, and thus you lost influence over them all.”
Quest. “Have I been Persevering ?”.
Answer by John Barton's conscience. “You gave up the Young Men's Society; you remember that—and then a pause, as much as to say to John Barton, Don't you ?)-you gave up poor Ned Coppin, and he lost his election ; you contrived to send Dick Joyce out of your class, because he was slow in reading, and you wouldn't be at the trouble to get him on ; you have given that up; you are not persevering, nor anything of the kind.”
Quest. "Have I been Praying ?”.
Answer by John Barton's conscience. “How can you ask such a question? You have never uttered a single prayer on behalf of the class ; nor have you asked for a blessing for yourself in teaching. There is no doubt, John Barton, but that you have not been praying."
Quest. “Have I been Preparing ?”
often gone to the school without having ever even looked at the lesson; you have been known on your arrival there to ask a fellow.teacher wbat the lesson was ; you have just trusted to what you could think of at the moment, and you have been a miserably uninteresting teacher, and that's the reason why Ned Warren looks about."
The last question which was suggested by John Barton's having now arrived at his thumb (for he was counting in Mr. Pickering's fashion) was whether there had been plenty of all the P's. After the foregoing answers by his conscience, he could not bring himself to enter on the thumb question, so he betook himself to making resolutions on the several P's. Until these had been put in force for some little time, and he saw how things got on, he determined not to give up the class.
John Barton became Patient ; and John Desmond got ashamed of not having his lesson prepared, and in the course of two months repeated eight verses without missing a word.
John Barton became perserering, and after a few weeks' visiting amongst his children he found his class grow large again. Mrs. Crook was busy, and couldn't see him, but he called again ; Mrs. Barlow was rather saucy, but he stayed with her, talking about her Jemmy, until she became quite civil, and from that day out, she herself saw Jemmy off in time.
John Barton prayed, and he felt wonderfully strengthened for his work ; he prayed for the children, and he couldn't tell exactly how, but they seemed to love him more.
John Barton prepared ; and Ned Warren, who had often been rapped on the head, looked about no more, but fixed his eyes on his teacher as though he would look him through and through.
And finally, John Barton, according to old Pickering's advice, gave all four P's the thumb, i. e., was abundant in each, and the class now thrives under the influence of the old carpenter's receipt.-Church of England SabbathSchool Magazine.
THE LOST FOUND. Once there was a boy in Liverpool, who went into the water to bathe, and he was carried out by the tide. Though he struggled long and hard, he was not able to swim against the ebbing tide, and he was taken far out to sea. He was picked up by a boat belonging to a vessel bound for Dublin. The poor little boy was almost lost. The sailors were all very kind to him when he was take into the vessel. One gave him a cap, another a jacket another a pair of shoes, and so on.
But that evening a gentleman, who was walking Dear the place where the little boy had gone into the water, found his clothes lying on the shore. He searched and made inquiries ; but no tidings were to be heard of the poor little boy. He found a piece of paper in the pocketa of the boy's coat, by which he discovered who it was to whom the clothes belonged. The kind man went with a sad and heavy heart to break the news to the parente He said to the father, “I am very sorry to tell you that I found these clothes on the shore, and could not find the lad to whom they belonged ; I almost fear he has been drowned." The father could hardly speak for grief; the mother was wild with sorrow. They caused every inquiry to be made, but no account was to be had of their dar boy. The house was sad ; the little children missed their playfellow; mourning was ordered ; the mother spent her time crying; and the father's heart was heary. He se little, but he felt much.
The lad was taken back in a vessel bound for Liverpool and arrived on the day the mourning was to be brood home. As soon as he reached Liverpool, he set off towards his father's house. He did not like to be seen in the strange cap and jacket and shoes which he had on; so be went by the lanes, where he would not meet those sbo knew him. At last he came to the hall door. He knocked. When the servant opened it, and saw who is was, she screamed with joy, and said, “Here is Master Tom !" His father rushed out, and bursting into ten
embraced him. His mother fainted; there was no more “spirit in her.” What a happy evening they all, parents and children, spent! They did not want the mourning. The father could say with Jacob, “It is enough ; my son is yet alive."
But what do you think will be the rejoicing in heaven, when those who were in danger of being lost for ever arrive safely on that happy shore. How will the angels rejoice, and the family of heaven be glad! Perhaps when some of you will hereafter go to heaven, your fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, will welcome you and say, “I am delighted to see you safe.” Welcome! welcome! You will not go there like the boy with a cap and clothes of which he was ashamed, but in garments of salvation, white as snow, with crowns of glory that fade not away. And what must you do to be ready to enter heaven when you die ? Think what it is ; and then do it.
But remember the great multitude of heathen children, who have never heard a word about heaven, and who do not know that there is any Saviour for lost men. Suppose you had seen that Liverpool boy carried out to sea by the tide, How would you have pitied him! Then suppose you had seen the water full of boys, all drifting out beyond the reach of human help. How would your spirit bave died within you? When you should have turned away and gone home, how sad you would have felt! No "pleasant bread" could you have eaten that night. But all the children in heathen lands are drifting hopelessly onward-can you tell whither?- The Dayspring.
WOMAN IN AFFLICTION. I have very often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold a soft and tender female, who has been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial annoyance while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter and support of her husband under misfortune, and abiding : with unshrinking firmness the bitterest blast of adversity. As the vine, which has twined its graceful foliage around the oak, and has been lifted by it in the sunshine, will, when the hardy tree is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up his shattered boughs, so it is beautifully ordained by Providence that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity, winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.- Washington Irving.
THE BEAUTIFUL MYSTERY OF INFANCY. There is no sentiment more natural to thoughtful minds than that of reverence for childhood. Many sources both of mystery and love meet in the infant life. A being so fresh from non-existence seems to promise us some tidings of the origin of souls ; a being so visibly pressing forward into the future makes us think of their tendency. While we look on the “child as the father of the man," yet cannot tell of what kind of man, all the possible varieties of character and fate appear for the moment to be collected into that diminutive consciousness; that which may be the germ of any if felt as though it were the germ of all; the thread of life, which from our hand that holds it, runs here through passages where poverty crawls, there to the fields where glory has its race; here to the midnight lake where meditation floats between two , heavens, there to the arid sands where passion pants and dies. Infancy is so naturally suggestive, it is the representative of such various possibilities, that it would be strange did we not regard it with a feeling of wonder.