The sun was setting gloriously behind our mountain home "That night we climbed the highest peak, And lingered long to see its last ray streak It was dark when we descended, and as we approached our cottage, our ears were startled with the cry"He's lost! he's lost!" Early that afternoon he left us, fresh and joyous, to gather wild flowers for his sister's hair. The search was long and earnest. We were almost wild with anguish before the tidings came that he was found. The dear fellow had lost his way, and when the night came on, he saw only the tall silent trees, and the dark, solemn clouds, then fear came over him, and he cried for help. Again and again he called; but no answer reached him. So he gathered the newly-fallen leaves and made of them a bed, laid him down, and fell asleep. The night dews fell thick and fast on him, and God sent him angels for watchers. We found him--with what a wild, rapturous cry of delight we clasped him to our hearts, let those who have blue-eyed cherubs answer. In the night we stole a kiss from his cheek, and offered up a prayer for him. The morrow came, and with it burning fever. The face was flushed, the pulse was rapid, the eye was glassy, the hand so hot, we shrank from touching it. Oh! what hours of anguish! Day after day we watched his symptoms. Day after day, Hope came cach morning and lingered awhile about his bedside, so our hearts grew lighter, and we dared to call him ours. A week passed away-a bitter week it was, and still we hoped. One day the doctor told us, we should soon know the worst. How long that day! What a night followed it! How earnestly we prayed for strength to meet the future. A new morning came, and death was in the chamber doing his work. Father of mercies, where was strength for such an hour? We gathered about his bed and clasped him closer, as if to stay his departure. But it was all in vain. We felt how weak was human strength, and our "Father's face was veiled," "Clouds and darkness were about him." One by one we left the room, and one by one we came back. We tried to be calm, but the suppressed sob and low moan woke the sleeper. Slowly he opened his eyes, smiled, and murmured" Mother!" She clasped his burning hand in her's, bent over him whilst the tears fell on his face. "Mother," he whispered, "I know it all. Mother! I am dying. In a few hours your tears will fall on my cold face. I will not feel them. Weep not. I am happy. I am going to the better land. But I shall remember you, and many times I will come to you, and at night, when you kneel to pray, as you have done with me, I will come to you, and you shall know that your little boy is an angel there." He fell asleep. on. Again his eyes opened, but they were too bright to look "Mother!" he whispered, "can this be death? Is this the dark valley? It is beautiful to pass away from carth with the songs of angels. I am going, mother. They call me away." He was gone-dead. His voice was hushed in that long sleep "Which knows no waking." We bowed around the bed of our dead, in speechless agony. Death and silence presided in that chamber. Long and earnest was the communion we, who were heartstricken, held with heaven. Our prayers were heard-our triumph complete. We rose, looked on the face of our child, and with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, breathed forth the beautiful prayer:-"The Lord hath given and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." THE GIANT AND THE STRIPLING, I INVITE my young friends to go with me to a field of battle, and with pleasure I will endeavour to explain to them the events which there occurred. Although I am a man of peace, I think we can sometimes learn useful lessons from the field of conflict. The account of the battle to which I refer may be found in an old book, which I love and revere, called the Bible-which book I hope my young friend will often attentively and prayer fully peruse. In the seventeenth chapter of the first book of Samuel, we have a narration of a battle between a giant named Goliath, of Gath, and a young stripling named David, of Bethlehem. The former was a Philistine, the latter a Hebrew or Israelite. The Philistines and Israelites were at war. Saul, the king of Israel, in consequence of his departure from the Lord, had occasioned this war. The time for the battle drew near, and the Philistines gathered their troops together in " Ephes-dammim," and intended to cause "the effusion of blood" in this place. The king of Israel marched his forces and "pitched by the valley of Elah." He thought that the situation would give him some advantage over his enemies. In war, places of eminence are generally sought, for much dep nds on the site which is occupied. "The Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Isael stood on a mountain on the other side," and the valley of Elah ran between them. Here they were, on two elevated spots of ground, preparing to use the implements of war and of death. While they were making ready for the engagement, a man of large dimensions proceeded out of the camp of the Philistines, vainly challenged, and proudly defied, the armies of the living God, and proposed to terminate the contest by single combat. This challenge he repeated morning and evening for forty days in succession. The Israelites were awfully dismayed, for his huge appearance and the terrible roar of his powerful voice, as it vibrated across the valley, sent fear to the very core of the timid, smitten hearts of the Israelites. But who, or what is this man, that he should be such an object of terror and alarm? Let us just have a look at him, as he stood lifting up his voice, full of vanity and pride. He was a giant, and perhaps the son of a giant, "whose height was six cubits and a span." A "cubit "signifies the length from the elbow to the top of the middle finger, which is generally reckoned at one foot six inches. A "span" is the distance from the top of the middle finger to the end of the thumb, when stretched to the utmost extent on a plane, the ordinary length of which is nine inches. According to this measurement, the giant would be nine feet nine inches in height-a tremendous size for a man. There are, however, various opinions concerning the length of the ancient cubit. According to the computation of some, the Philistine was ten feet six inches and a half; of others, ten feet seven inches and a half; and of others, eleven feet three inches. Whichever of these opinions be correct, the height and bulk of Goliath must have been unusually great and alarming. He had also got weapons of war with him, the size of which sufficiently indicates the prodigious strength of the man. A certain writer computes the weight of his armour as follows: "His brazen helmet weighed about fifteen pounds avoirdupois; his target, or collar, affixed between his shoulders, to defend his neck, about thirty pounds; his spear was about twenty-six feet long, and its head weighed about thirtyeight pounds; his sword four pounds; his greaves on his legs thirty pounds; and his coat of mail, 156 pounds; and so the whole armour was 273 pounds weight." Such was the ponderous weight of the panoply which incased this giant; and such the amazing size and strength of the man, that this weighty armour was not too heavy for its owner. This was the man who defied the army of the Israelites with impunity, and with whom it was difficult to find a man who would engage in single combat. Ultimately, however, circumstances transpired, which brought a youth into the camp of Israel, destined to vanquish the giant. His name was David, the youngest son of old Jesse, a farmer, in the small town of Bethlehem. David brought food to his three elder brothers, who were in the army. He had just left the mountains on which he roamed, to protect and guide his father's sheep. He had the ruddy appearance of a youth of innocent employment, and accustomed to bask in the fresh breezes of heaven. His habits were characteristic of simplicity. His figure was beautiful and of equal proportion; his countenance comely, and his whole appearance prepossessing. While he conversed with his brethren, the arrogant challenge of the Philistine sounded in his ears. His righteous indignation, and zeal for God, were aroused, and he determined to wipe away the reproach from Israel. On hearing that riches, honour, and the king's daughter, were to be the portion of the man who should destroy this potent adversary, David immediately signified his willingness to take up the gauntlet which the enemy had thrown down. This news, notwithstanding the opposition of his elder brothers, soon reached the ears of king Saul, who forthwith sent for David. After examining the youth, Saul was quite satisfied that David should meet the giant. David was then clothed with the king's own armour; but David immediately put off the armour, resolving, without such armour, to meet the giant in the name of the Lord of Hosts. He left the presence of the king; and, with a sling and shepherd's crook in his hand, and a bag by his side, proceeded to the fearful spot. On his way he crossed a brook which ran along the valley, picked up five smooth stones, carefully lodged them in his bag, and ran to meet his enemy. When the giant saw the stripling he despised him; his pride was awfully mortified, and his self-consequence felt insulted. He commenced a long and pompous parley, in which in the name of his gods he cursed David, and devoted him to destruction. David, nothing daunted, meekly, firmly, and confidently, predicted the destruction of the giant. They drew near to each other in the valley, and each army stood gazing in breathless silence and fearful suspense. On their great champion the Philistines placed their hopes, and on this ruddy and unpretending youth the fate of Israel depended. If Jesse now saw his darling boy, he would doubtless cry, with all the fervour of a doting parent's heart, "O God, protect my child!" And who could help at this |