titRMY

B.,MA_Dil\TC÷S.

MORAL

AND

RELHAT,18 IMO LH
FOR

YOUTH AND CHILDREN,

NUMBERS 1-5.
"';r4

STEAM PRESS
VI, Tall SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHINQ

BATTLE CREEK, MICH.

1863.
 THE REVIEW AND HERALD SABBATH IZEADING-S.
EDITORIAL LIBRARY

MORAL
CLASS No. _pltf — Sa-1

TITLE _aabbathAleadinga AND

AUTHOR lattel...Ers....E.a...‘Camp )

Pubi
ElLiOU8 1,1880E1
cations Collection
FOR

YOUTH AND CHILDREN.

"That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth, that our
daughters may be as corner-stones polished after the similitude of a
palace."
"Come, ye children, hearken unto me, I will teach you the fear of
the Lord."

STEAM PRESS
0! THE SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION
BATTLE CREEK, MICH,
1863.
 PREFACE.

THE compiler of this series of numbers of Sabbath

Readings for Youth and Children has studiously avoid-
ed introducing anything of a sectarian or denomina-
tional character that might hinder their free circula-
tion among any denomination, or class of society,
where there is a demand for moral and religious lit-
erature.

Each number is complete in itself, and the first de-

sign was to send out the entire edition in packages for
the friends of moral and religious instruction to scat-
ter, like the leaves of autumn, everywhere. But, fol-
lowing a second thought, a portion of the large edition
is put up in this form, more convenient for family
and Sabbath-school libraries.
During the past twelve years the compiler has
Vac, gathered a large amount of moral and religious read-
ing from which selections have been carefully tak-
c/70 en, admitting only those which may be related or
read with propriety on the Sabbath. They will be
. M (07
found to contain the best instruction for the young
ho. Hr5
mind, teaching the principles of obedience to parents,
ki Lib kindness and affection to brothers and sisters and

Her 4
iv PREFACE.

youthful associates, benevolence to the poor, and the

requirements of the gospel. These virtuous principles
are illustrated by instances of conformity to them, or
departure from them, in such a manner as to lead to
their love and practice. INDEX.
COMPILER
No. PAGE.
A LESSON of Self-denial,.. 4- 3
A Starry Crown, 5- 1
A Word about Order, 5-11
Charlie and the Robin's Song, 4-16
I will Leave my Jesus Never, ... 2-16
Irish Jamie, 5-12
Looking for a Place, 3- 1
Self Reliance, 4--11
The Hard Way, 1- 1
The Poor Student, 1- 7
The Boy who Conquered, 1-12
That's Enough for Me, 1-15
Thy Mother, 1-16
The Purse of Gold, 2 1
The Ingenious Boy, 2- 6
The Brothers, 2-10
The Rich Girl and the Poor Boy, 3- 5
The Tempting Gloves, 3-11
That Better Land, 3-16
The Good Shepherd, 4- 1
Tom's Trial, 5- 3
The Irish Boy and the Priest,.. 5-16
Who do You Love Best ? 2-15
Wronged for Doing Right, 3- 8
Where the Gold is, 4-14
 WHO LOVES ME BEST?

Wno loves me best?—my mother sweet,

Whose every look with love's replete;
Who held me, an infant, on her knee,—
Who hath ever watched me tenderly;
And yet I have heard my mother say,
That she sometime must pass away ;
Who then shall shield me from earthly ill ?
Some one must love me better still.

Who loves me best?—my father dear,

Who loveth to have me always near;
He whom I fly each eve to meet,
When passed away in the noontide heat ;
Who from the bank where the sunbeam lies,
Brings me the wild wood strawberries.
0 he is as dear as my mother to me—
But he will perish, even as she.

Who loves me best ?—the gentle dove,

That I have tamed with my childish love;
That every one, save myself, doth fear,
Whose soft coo soundeth when I come near ;
Yet perhaps it but loves me because I bring
To its cage the drops from the clearest spring,
And hang green branches around the door
Something, surely, must love me more.

Who loves me best ?—my sister fair,

With her laughing eyes and clustering hair;
Who flowers around my head doth twine,
Who presseth her rosy lips to mine,
Who singeth me songs in her artless glee—
Can any love me better than she?
Yet when I asked, that sister confessed
Of all she did not love me the best.
viii SABBATH READINGS.
Who loves me best?—my brother young,
With his healthy cheek and lisping tongue
Who delighteth to lead me in merry play
Far down the green-wood's bushy way,
Who showeth me where the hazel nuts grow,
And where the fairest field-flowers blow ;
Yet perhaps he loves me no more than the rest—
How shall I find who loves me best ?
My mother loves me, but she may die :
My white dove loves me, but that may fly ;
My father loves me—he may be changed ;
I have heard of brothers and sisters estranged,
If they should forsake me, what should I do ?
Where should I bear my sad heart to ?
Some one, surely, would be my stay—
Some one must love me better than they ?
Yes, fair child, there is One above,
Who loves thee with an unchangeable love:
He who formed those frail, dear things,
To which thy young heart fondly clings—
Even though all should forsake thee, still
He would protect thee through every ill,
0 is not such love worth all the rest ?
Child, it is God who loves thee best!
SABBATH READINGS.----No. 1.
The Hard Way.
"FRANK, I have got one more errand for
yo'u ; then you may go and play all the rest of
the afternoon."
" Yes, father thank you, what is it ? "
Frank's . father went around behind the
counter and drew out a little drawer from un-
der it. In the meantime Frank had come up
to the opposite side of the counter. His fa-
ther handed him a silver dollar, saying :
" You may carry this to Widow Boardman.
Be careful not to lose it."
" Yes, sir, I will," said Frank, -and then went
out doors. It was the first day of vacation.
Frank felt very happy as he trudged along the
road. He was thinking of the fine times
ahead—two weeks and no school! Perhaps
the pleasant day, the fresh air, and the sun-
light, had something to do with making him
happy. Sunshine generally makes us feel
more pleasant than clouds. But something
else helped to make Frank happy, although he
was not thinking about it. He had been a
good boy. He had done right and was doing
right. It makes. a wonderful difference with
a boy's feelings whether he knows that he is
doing right, or whether there is the uneasy
feeling of sin in his heart. He can have no
quiet satisfaction with this feeling.
2 SABBATH READINGS.
Mrs. Boardman lived at some distance up
the road. Frank had already got by the
school-house, and the little pond, and was just
passing the willow grove, when, all of a sud-
den, it came into his heact to make himself a
whistle to blow along the way. So, putting
the dollar in his jacket pocket, he climbed
over the fence and cut several of such willow
twigs as he thought would be suitable for his
purpose. He did not make the whistle there,
but went along with the twigs in his hand, till
he reached a log lying on a grass plat by the
roadside. Here he sat down and made two
whistles. They sounded admirably.
As he shut the widow's gate, he put his hand
in his pocket to take out the dollar, so that he
might have it ready for her when she should
come to the door. It was not there. Thinking he
had felt in the wrong pocket, he put his hand in
the other, fully expecting to feel the dollar
between his fingers. it was not there. Frank
felt a little alarmed. Could he have lost it?
He searched carefully every pocket, but it was
not to be found. He turned around and went
slowly back, looking carefully along the road
for the lost dollar. He searched around the
log, in the willow grove, by the roadside, ev-
ery step of the way, but no dollar was to be
seen. He went over the road again with no
better success. At length he sat down upon
the log, feeling very badly, to consider what
he should do.
The dollar was lost, there was no doubt of
that. His father had told him to be careful,
and he had not been: Now what should he
THE HARD WAY. 3
do ? His first thought was to go back to the
store and tell his father all about it. This he
felt would be the right way ; but he disliked
to go, for he knew that his father would blame
him and perhaps would punish him. Boys
dislike to be punished, whether they deserve
it or not. In fact, Frank had a feeling very
common, that of drawing back from a disa-
greeable duty. Was there no other way?
He stayed to think. Ah! here was a great
fault! Frank knew that he had found the
right path, but, instead of pursuing it imme-
diately, he waited and cast about to find an-
other, easier way of getting out of the diffi-
culty. An easier way. 0, what a mistake !
There was no road easier than the right road.
There never is. Frank thought he would not
go to his father then. He would go and play
with the boys awhile. Perhaps his father
might never know it. At any rate he would
not tell him then. So he got up from the log
and walked slowly toward the school house
green. How differently everything seemed
to him. The warm summer day, the blue sky,
the grass, the trees, the very air—all were
changed. A few minutes ago they all looked
bright and pleasant, but now not so. The
change was in his own heart. An uneasy
feeling of wrong-doing made him unhappy.
He was not fit to enjoy the summer day.
Pretty soon he reached the school-house
and engaged with the other boys in play.
But still the unhappy feeling remained in his
heart. Once in a while, to be sure, he would
forget his sin and laugh as loudly as the mer-
 SABBATH READINGS.
4
finest. But the remembrance soon came baek
to trouble him. There was no peace. At
night he went home and sat down at the sup-
per table with the rest. Soon after the bles-
sing had been asked, whild his brothers and
sisters were talking with each other about
what they had been doing through the day, his
father turned to him and said :
" 0, Frank, did you carry the dollar ?"
"Yes, sir," said Frank.
The question was asked so suddenly that
he had no time to make up his mind what to
answer. He felt then less like telling the
truth than he had at first. It seemed too
hard. He thought to take the easier way by.
answering " yes." The easier way ! Poor
boy, he had not learned yet that it. was the
hari way. He had already, during the after-
noon suffered more than if he had gone to his
father at the first and frankly told him all.
And now he had made the matter far worse
by telling a lie about it. Pretty soon after
supper he went up stairs to bed. But when
he repeated his evening prayer, he could not
help feeling that God did not listen to him
and that he had no right to pray while he
kept on in this wrong course. He passed a
restless, dreamy night.
In the morning he woke up to find the sun
shining broadly into his room. He leaped out
of bed in high spirits and began dressing,
thinking over at the same time some schemes
for the day. But very soon the remembrance
of the lost dollar came into his mind and blot-
THE HARD WAY. 5
ted out at once all his happy feelings. It
brought back the old wretchedness.
The day went by slowly and wearily.
Frank was continually troubled by the fear of
his father's finding out about the dollar, and
still more by the consciousness of his own
guilt ; and yet he found it harder and harder
every hour to make up his mind that he would
tell all about the matter and bear such pun-
ishment as his father might inflict upon him.
In the evening he could endure it no longer.
The easy way had indeed become the hard
way. While sitting in the parlor window he
made up his mind to go and confess the whole
thing. He started toward the study where his
father was. Once on the way thither his
courage almost failed him ; but he kept stead-
ily on. Every new step toward the right gave
him new strength. He opened the study door
and came up to the table where his father sat
writing.
" Well, Frank," said he kindly, " what is
it ? " •.
" 0 father," said Frank, but lie could not
go on. He bowed his head upon the table,
and bursting into tears sobbed and wept as
though his heart would break. His father
with tears in his own eyes gently tried to
soothe him. In a few minutes Frank raised
his head, and began again :
" I want to tell you, father,"—but it was
too much. A fresh burst of crying interrupt-
ed his words, as the thought of his father's
kindness and his own wretchedness and wick-
edness came over his mind.
MI
6 SARRA.TIT READINGS.
" Wait a minute, Frank. Let me tell you
first," said his father. " You want to tell me
that you did not carry the dollar to Mrs.
Boardman, that you lost it on the way, that
last night you told a lie about it, that you felt
very wretched all the time, and wanted to tell
me but did not dare to. Is it not so ? "
" Yes, sir," sobbed Frank.
" And now, my poor, dear boy, you have
been suffering all this time, and I have been
longing to have you come and tell me about
your fault and be forgiven—and all this be-
cause you wanted to take a way easier than
the right way ; and yet you have found it a
great deal harder."
Frank saw now that he had. He saw, that
he might have spared himself a great deal of
uneasiness and sorrow and sin, and his father
considerable pain and anxiety, by only choos-
ing the right way at first. He told his father
so, and decided in his own mind never to
choose the foolish course again. His father
freely forgave him; and then they knelt togeth-
er and asked forgiveness of God.
Frank's punishment was that he should earn
a dollar as soon as he could and carry it to Mrs.
Boardman in the place of the dollar lost. Ac-
cordingly Frank set about earning his dollar,
and before vacation was over, he carried it
with a light heart and gave it to Mrs. Board-
man. But the strangest part of the whole
matter was this. While Frank was returning
from Mrs. Boardman's his shoe struck some-
'
thing hard; he looked down and saw the very
dollar he had lost. Frank's father had found
THE POOR STUDENT.
out about the loss in the following way Af-
ter sending Frank he started on some business
for a place beyond Mrs. Boardman's, but
went by another road. On his way back he
saw his son walking slowly along and looking
down as if searching for something on the
road. Thinking it might be the dollar, he
stepped into Mrs. Boardman's and asked her
if Frank had been there. He had not. He
waited all the afternoon hoping that Frank
would come and tell him about it. At night
lie asked him, still hoping that, when asked,
he would confess the loss. The result has
been seen. The punishment was not for the
loss but for the falsehood. It only remains to
say that Frank did not after this choose the
hard way again.
The Poor Student, or Where there is a
Will there's a Way.
IN H , a small farming town in the
western part of Massachusetts, there once
lived a little boy named Oliver. His parents
were poor, but they were industrious and pi-
ous, and his mother at his birth, like the moth-
er of Samuel, gave him to the service of God.
But he did not go to live with an old minis-
ter, as Samuel went to live with Eli ; he staid
at home and helped his father on the farm.
Oliver had a very inquiring mind ; he was al-
ways asking about trees and plants and stones,
and nothing pleased him more than a book;
and many a book he read by the blaze of the
 8 SABBATH READINGS.
chimney fire. Oliver's study was the garret,
where he had a desk which he had made him-
self, and he never valued trying hard in any
good cause ; he used to walk five miles to a
singing school, after a hard day's work, in or-
der to become a good singer. When very
young, his thoughts were often upon God and
his soul ; he never went to bed without
prayer, and sometimes in the woods he would
kneel down and ask God to make him a good
boy; and he often wished he had companions
who loved to talk about Jesus Christ and his
heavenly kingdom.
When Oliver was fourteen, there was a
great attention to religion in his town. Fam-
ily after family who had lived all their days
as if they had no souls, began now to feel and
think, and find their way to the prayer meet-
ings, which were held in almost every neigh-
borhood. Oliver was laid up with a broken
arm that winter, but lie was deeply interested
in what his parents and the neigbors said, for
all their talk now was about heavenly things.
How Oliver longed to be out again ; and he
thought he should hear with new ears, if he
could once more get within sound of the min-
ister's voice. The church was five miles from
his father's house, and the men and boys used
to walk in those days, nor did they stay at
home on account of the distance. When Oli-
ver did get out, everything seemed changed ;
every ear was open and every heart ready
to receive the truth. The people met on Sab-
bath noon, between the services, and talked of
God's love ; how sweet it was to have their sins
THE POOR STUDENT. 9
pardoned and their souls saved by his dear
Son. Never did such a spring open upon
H ; it was a precious season to many
of the young, and Oliver among the rest. "How
inviting appeared the path of duty," he said,
" how glorious the prospect before us when we
entered into covenant with the people of God
and with God himself." What happy talks
and walks and meetings did this band of
Christians enjoy that summer. Many an eve-
ning did Oliver walk three, four, or five miles,
and in the darkest nights, to their delightful
prayer-meetings ; and there was more pure
enjoyment in them than in all the amusements
of the world, for heavenly joys are far superi-
or to any earthly joys.
Oliver now wanted to become a minister of
the gospel ; but poor as he was, how could he
get an education ? Where were the friends
to help him? Where were the funds to come
from? Besides, he had ten brothers and sis-
ters younger than himself, and his father
would need his help. The way was certainly
hedged up with difficulties, but Oliver formed
the purpose, and under God, where there is a
will there is a way. For the present he had
to work on the farm, but he studied evenings
and in all his spare moments, with the utmost
diligence. One summer he was hired by a
man in A , who lived near the academy,
to which Oliver would again and again look
wistfully up and long to be there ; but as it
was, he used to write out portions of the Lat-
in grammar, put them in his hat, and study
them in the field when he could. In this way
10 SABBATH READINGS:
two or three years passed, Oliver, steadfast to
his purpose, applied to several rich men to
help him, for he wanted to buy his time of his
father, but with no encouragement. He then
wrote to his aunt :
" Dear aunt, you have probably heard of
my desire to obtain an education for the pur-
pose of devoting my life to God. I hope this
desire is pure in his sight. You probably
know what hinders me from doing it. My
father feels unable to part with me without se-
curing to him one hundred and fifty-four dol-
lars. I have made many proposals to differ-
ent persons, yet all has been in vain. But
what shall I do ? Is there no friend in all the
Christian world that can afford to assist me ?
Shall I sink in despair of help in this land of
gospel light ? What I would propose, is this:
if my grandfather will lend me the money, I
will agree to pay it, with interest, as soon as I
am able. I promise by every bond of Chris-
tian affection, to pay the money, if I live and
am worth it ; and you will oblige me, dear
aunt, by reading this letter to my grandfather,
and making the request in my behalf."
Not long after, we find that his friends in
A boarded him, and he received in-
instruction without charge, in the academy.
This was one step forward. During the term
his father suddenly died, leaving the poor boy
a legacy, but not in money. It was this :
" Tell Oliver to live godly in Christ Jesus ;"
and Oliver felt that it was a very precious leg-
acy. Now he thought he must give up his
studies and help his widowed mother; but she
THE POOR STUDENT. 11
remembered her vow at his birth, and she
said, " Give yourself up to God's work my
son." She knew that he was the widow's
God, and the father of the fatherless, and that
he could take care of her.
Soon after this, an uncle of Oliver, who was
connected with an institution in eadville,
Pennsylvania, invited him to come there and
work and study. It was a long journey, but
he determined to go ; and the night before he
left, a tender farewell meeting was held at
the farm-house, and his mother and all his
friends wept as they committed his cause to
God. Early the next morning he started on
foot, alone, with his pack on his back, for a
journey of 500 ,miles, and with only eleven
dollars and ten cents in his pocket. This was
in the year 1820, and Oliver was 19 years
old. He was nearly four weeks on the way.
Bad roads, rainy weather, a wet skin, sore
feet—for he got a chance to ride only six miles
of the long way—were among the incidents of
this journey, and he spent only $5.60 of his
money. His uncle received him kindly, and
though the labor of the winter which followed
was the most severe which he ever had—for
he kept a day-school and singing school, be-
sides keeping up in his studies—he says,
" Numerous are thy. mercies to me, 0 my Sa-
viour. May thy spirit wholly possess my
soul. I desire always to live according to my
father's dying wish, godly in Christ Jesus.'
I cannot stop to tell you all the shifts and
struggles he made to get through college
which he did at Schenectady, or by dint ofwhai
12 SABBATH READINGS.
self-denial and exertion he finally gradua-
ted at the Theological Seminary. His brave
spirit never despaired or gave up. But in or-
der to let people know what grateful and
timely aid it is in their power to render the
poor student, let us turn to his journal while
studying theology at Andover. " My friends
at H have just sent me a generous sup-
ply of clothng. Few occurrences more de-
lightfully affect a poor student's mind than the
opening of such a bundle, finding here a let-
ter, there a little money." A year after, he
says, " My expected package has come. I am
disappointed that it contains no money.
Surely, had the donors known how I am situ-
ated, they would have sent enough to make
up the garments for which they have sent
me materials. I must look to God, the giver
of all good."
But Oliver struggled through, and for more
than twenty years was an able and devoted
minister of Christ in M . He died in
1851, aged 50.
The Boy who Conqured.
SOME few years ago, a lad who was left
without father or mother, of good natural abil-
ities, went to New York, alone and friendless,
to get a situation in a store as errand-boy, or
otherwise, until he could command a higher
position ; but this boy had been in bad com-
pany, and had got in the habit of calling for
his " bitters" occasionally, because he thought
BOY WHO. CONQUERED. 13
it looked, manly. He smoked cheap cigars
also.
He had a pretty good education, and on
looking over the morning papers,- he noticed
that a merchant in Pearl-street wanted a lad
of his age, and he called there and made his
business known.
" Walk into the office, my lad," said the
merchant. " I'll attend to you soon."
When he had waited on his customer, he
took a seat near the lad, and espied a cigar in his
hat. This was enough. " My boy," said he," I
want a smart, honest, faithful lad; but I see that
you smoke cigars, and in my experience of
many years, I ever found cigar-smoking
lads to be connected with various other evil
habits, and, if I am not mistaken, your breath
is an evidence that you are not an exception.
You can leave ; you will not suit me."
John (this was his name) held down his
head and left the store ; and as he walked
along the street, a stranger and friendless, the
counsel of his poor mother came forcibly to
his mind, who, upon her death-bed, called
him to her side, and, placing her emaciated
hand upon his head, said, " Johnny, my dear
boy, I'm going to leave you. You well know
what disgrace and misery your father brought
on us before his death, and I want you to
promise me, before I die, that you will never
taste one drop of the accursed poison. that
killed your father. Promise me this, and
be a good boy, Johnny, and I shall die in
peace."
The scalding tears trickled down Johnny's
14 SABBATH READINGS.
cheeks, and he promised ever to remember
the dying words of his mother, and never to
drink any spirituous liquors ; but he soon for-
got his promise, and when he received the re-
buke from the merchant, -he remembered what
his mother said, and what he had promised
her, and he cried aloud, and people gazed at
him as he passed along, and boys railed at
him. He went to his lodgings, and throwing
himself upon his bed, gave vent to his feelings
in sobs that were heard all over the house.
But John had moral courage. He had en-
ergy and determination, and ere an hour had
passed, he made up his mind never to taste
another drop of liquor, nor to smoke another
cigar, as long as he lived. He went straight
back to the merchant. Said he, " Sir, you
very properly sent me away this morning for
habits that I have been guilty of; but, sir, I
have neither father nor mother and though I
have occasionally done what I ought not to
do, and have not followed the good advice of
my poor mother on her death-bed, nor done
as I promised her I would do, yet I have now
made a solemn vow never to drink another
drop of liquor, nor to smoke another cigar ;
and if you, sir, will only try me, it is all I
ask."
The merchant was struck with the decision
and energy of the boy, and at once employed
him. At the expiration of five years, this lad
was a partner in the business, anal. is now
worth ten thousand dollars. He has faithful-
ly kept his pledge, to which he owes his ele-
vation.
ENOUGH FOR ME. 15
Boys, think of this circumstance, as you en-
ter upon the duties of life, and remember up-
on what points of character your destiny for
good or for evil depends.
" That's Enough for me."
" WHIT do you do without a mother to tell
all your troubles to ?" asked a child who had
a- mother, of one whose mother was dead.
"Mother told me whom to go to before she
died," answered the little orphan. " I go to
the Lord Jesus. He was my mother's friend,
and he's mine."
"Jesus Christ is up in the sky. He is away
off, and has a great many things to• attend to
in heaven. It is not likely he can stop to
mind you."
" I do not know anything about that," said
the orphan. " All I know, he says he will;
and that's enough for me."
What a beautiful answer was that ! And
what was enough for this child, is enough for all.
Are you tired of carrying the burden of sin?
" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are
heavy laden, and I will giVe you rest." But
I am unworthy of his forgiving love. Never
mind that. " He says he will, and that's
enough for me." Take the Lord Jesus Christ
at his word, for the forgiveness of your sins,
and for peace to your souls. " My peace I
give unto you," he says. Will he ? - 0, his
peace is very precious. Will he give us his
peace ? " He says he will, and that's enough
for me." Trust him. His word never fails.
 16 SABBATH READINGS.
Thy Mother.
WHo is the best, most constant friend,
'Mong earthly friends, that can be found,
Whose wishes constantly attend
The traveler on his weary round ?
It is thy mother.
Who did thy earthly sorrows soothe,
And meet thee with a kindly smile ?
Who did thy thorny pillow smooth,
And all thy anxious hours beguile ?
It was thy mother.
Who taught thy wayward feet to tread
The narrow path that leads to God ?
Who taught thy youthful mind to dread
The wide, frequented, downward road?
It was thy mother.
When sickness laid thee on thy bed,
Who bathed thy feverish, burning brow,
Beside thee stood, and silent plead
That God would raise or teach to bow ?
It was thy mother.
Who prays that Israel's God may keep
Her Son from vice and every snare,
Lead him among his chosen sheep,
So that he may salvation share ?
It is thy mother.
it
Who daily sighs that all may meet
One family in realms of light,
To worship at Immanuel's feet,
In spotless robes by him made bright ?
It is thy mother.
SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION,
Battle Creek, Mich.
post-Ptdd, $ev00 per 100. Address Elder James White.
SABBATH READINGS.----NO. 2.
The Purse of Gold.
SARAH GOODWIN was the name of a poor
seamstress residing in the city of New York.
She was not wholly friendless ; but those
whom she knew, and who would have aided
her in her struggles, were very poor and
could not. So she, a widow, with four boys
from the ages of four to nine years, struggled
through winter's cold and summer's heat, pro-
viding her little family with bread ; and that
was all. Her boys were good children, al-
ways in their home after nightfall, and giving
their mother every cent of their little earn-
ings, as often as they found work to do. At
last the mother fell sick, and through a weary
illness she had no other attendants save the
occasional help of a neighbor and the constant
aid of her poor little boys. It was touch-
ing to behold their kind ways and to
hear their gentle words. Everybody said
that they would be blessed in coming years
for their thoughtful love toward their mother.
The widow recovered : but it was now the
middle of a bitter winter, and their little
stock of fuel was nearly gone. As soon as
her strength permitted, she walked through
the cold of a cheerless day to the shop of her
employer, and told him her pitiful story. But
he said it was hard times ; her illness had
 2 SABBATH READINGS.
made room for others as destitute as herself;
and they had not one stitch of work to give
her. With a sinking heart, but praying, to
keep her courage up, the poor woman toiled
on from shop to shop, until it became late ;
and, that with tears and the darkness, she
could hardly see her way home.
" If Mr. Hart had himself been there," she
said to herself, bending to the strong wind,
and drawing her scanty shawl closer abont
her form, " I know he would have given me
work."
As she whispered thus through her chatter-
ing teeth, a -tall gentleman passed by her ;
and as he did so, something fell to the side-
walk and lay upon the crusted snow. Sarah
paused ; she had heard the noise made by the
little packet, and a strange impression led her
to search for it. 0; joy ! it was a purse,
heavy and filled to the brim; yellow and shin-
ing lay the gold within, as she carried it to-
ward a lighted window.
"My poor boys, they shall want food no
more," she cried; "this is gold. I think that
God must have put it in my way, for he saw
I was in despair."
Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the
thought occurred to Sarah, that not one cent
of the treasure was honestly hers. But a mo-
ment she lingered, pressing the money with
numbed fingers, the sorrowful tears chasing
down her thin cheeks ; then starting forward
to find the owner of the purse, she walked
hurriedly up the street, fearful that the temp-
tation, should she arrive at her poor room
THE PURSE OF GOLD. 3
and see her hungry children, might prove too
strong for her honesty.
Opposite the great hotel, as she stood think-
ing which way to take, she saw the stranger
enter. She knew him by the long hair which
curled to his shoulders, and, timidly crossing
the street, she made her way into the hall,
and there bewildered by the light, knew not
what to say, till twice asked by a servant
what she wanted. Of course she could do no
more than describe the stranger by his tall
stature and flowing hair. But he had already
gone out again ; she must call on the morrow,
they said, and ask for Mr. Ashcraft.
The next morning, having eaten nothing—
for she could n6t touch a farthing of the gold
—she was admitted into the room where sat
the stranger. He arose as she entered, and
gazed with a curious air until she presented
the purse. Then he started with pleased sur-
prise, laid down his paper, took the gold, and
carefully counted it over.
" It is all safe," he said ; you have not
taken—"
" Not one piece, sir," she cried eagerly,
trembling as she spoke.
" You seem poor," remarked the stranger.
" I am poor she replied.
" Got a family, I suppose ?"
" Four little boys, sir ; I am a widow."
" Humph ! so I suppose ; that's the old sto-
ry."
" Ask Mr. Hart, the tailor," cried the wid-
ow, stepping forward a little ; " he knows that
though I am poor, I am honest."
4 SABBATH READINGS.
A bright red spot burned on her cheeks as
she spoke, and she forced back the tears.
" Now confess," said the stranger, rising
and walking to and fro before the fire, " tell
me, did you not expect a large reward for
this?"
" I did think, perhaps—" and she turned
with quivering lips to the door.
" Stop, stop ! cried the stranger, " you
know you would never have returned the
purse, had you not expected to be well paid
for it."
" Sir ! " said the widow, her voice rising
beyond its usual tone, and her thin form
erect.
The stranger paused, holding the purse in
his hand; then drawing forth a small coin, of-
fered it to her.
For a moment she drew back; but then re-
membering that her poor boys were hungry
at home, and in bed because there was no fire,
she burst into tears as she took it, saying,
" This will buy bread for my poor children,"
and hurrying away, she buried the bitterness
of that morning in her own heart.
It was four o'clock on the same day : Sarah
Goodwin sat by a scanty fire, busy in sewing
patches on the very poor clothes of her four
boys.
" Run to the door, Jimmy," said she to the
eldest, as a loud knock was heard.
" Oh, mother ! " the boy cried, returning,
" a big bundle for us ! What is it? What
can it be?"
"Work for me, perhapS," said the widow,
PURSE OF GOLD. 5
untying the large package, when suddenly
there came to light four suits of gray clothes,
with four neat black shining caps, each set ex-
actly fitting to the head of her boys. Almost
overcome with wonder, the widow fell on her
knees, her eyes fixed on the words, " A pres-
ent for the fatherless ; " while the boys, lay-
ing hold of their suits of clothes, danced
about the floor shouting with glee.
" What's in the pocket here ? what's in the
pocket?" cried Jimmy, thrusting his hand in-
to that place ; when, lo! out came the very
purse of gold the widow had returned that
morning.
A scene of joyous confusion followed, and
the voice of prayer ascended from Sarah
Goodwin's full heart. Again and again she
counted the glittering treasure. Fifty dol-
lars. It seemed an almost endless fortune.
How her heart ran over with gratitude to God
and the stranger!
She could not rest, till, throwing on her
bonnet, with cheeks glowing now with hope
and happiness, she ran back to the hotel to
pour forth her thanks.
A carriage stood at the door laden with
trunks behind. The driver mounted the seat
as she had reached the step, and, turning her
head, there within sat the stranger. She had
not time to speak; but he nodded his head, as
he saw her with clasped hands standing there,
and a prayer on her lips. Sarah never saw
the stranger again. She took a little shop and
stocked it well, and put her boys to school.
To-day she is the owner of a respectable shop.
 SABBATH READINGS.
Of her four boys, two are ministers, one is a
doctor, and the other a thriving tradesman.
Nobody knows where the man with the
flowing hair has gone; but if he is living, and
should ever hear of Widow Goodwin, he will
have the consolation of knowing the noble re-
sults of this generous deed toward the worthy
woman and her four boys.
The Ingenious Boy.
" TELL us a story, father, this evening, do."
Mary made this request in behalf of herself
and her two brothers---Henry, who was twelve
years old, and Andrew, who was seven ; her
own age being about midway between theirs.
" Well, what shall it be, a made up story, or
a true one ?"
" 0, a true one if you please, we like those
the best."
"But if I tell you a true story, it may.not
be very wonderful ; not near so marvelous as
something I could make up ; perhaps you will
not think it interesting."
" 0, I know we shall, we always do."
" Well, then, as you have chosen a true sto-
ry, I will give you one that I know was all
true. I was a school-master once, and twen-
ty years ago this winter, I was teaching a
large school in Michigan. As I was passing
around the school room one morning, I saw a
notch that had been newly cut in the desk,
just before William C . I pointed to it,
and asked :
7
INGENIOUS BOY.
William, do you know who did that?"
" Yes, sir, I did it," he frankly replied.
"Did you not know that it was against the
rules of the school to whittle the desks or the
seats ?"
" Yes, sir."
" Do n't you think the rule a good one ?"
" Yes, sir."
" What must be done, then ?"
" I suppose you must punish me, sir," he
said, looking very much troubled.
Now, William was about ten years old, was
one of my very best scholars, a very bright
and generally obedient boy. He did not own
a pocket knife, but had that morning borrowed
one at home, and the temptation to try it on
the new desk before him, had proved too much
for him. But his frankness in confessing his
fault and condemning himself, added to his
general good character, made me wish, if pos-
sible, to avoid punishing him. Yet how could
I avoid it without appearing partial to Wil-
liam? The school-house was a new one, and
I was anxious to leave it in good order at the
end of the term. I turned the matter over a
moment in my mind, and then said to him:
" William, I can't bear to think of punish-
ing you, for you are one of my best boys.
But what can I do ? If I let you go unpun-
ished, how can I enforce the rule? And if
that rule is disregarded, we shall have a sor-
ry looking school-house when spring comes."
" I know it will be so, sir," said he, looking
more disconsolate.
8 SABBATII READINGS.
" But is there no way that I can let you go,
and still save the desks ?"
" I do n't think there is, sir."
" You may lay aside your books and think
about it for a while, and see if you cannot con-
trive some way, and I also will see if I cannot
find one."
I turned away and engaged in other duties
for sometime and then came back to him.
" Well, William, have you thought of any
plan to save the necessity of that punishment?"
" No, sir, I do not see how you can do any-
thing else with me."
" Well, I have devised a plan which possi-
bly may succeed. The boys are now to take
their recess ; and if while you are out with
them, you can induce them to pledge their
word and honor that they will not whittle
the seats or desks if you are not punished, I
can let you go."
William seemed very little encouraged by
this proposition. He evidently doubted whether
the boys would give such a pledge. I stated
the plan in presence of them all, and then gave
them their recess. As I afterwards learned,
William had not courage to ask any body for
the pledge, but one of the older boys gathered
them all around him and made a stump speech
in William's behalf. "Boys," said he, " we
do n't any of us want to see Will whipped,
and we can prevent it by just giving our word
and honor that we won't whittle the school-
house. Now, what do we want to whittle the
school-house for ? I'd rather have a good
smooth desk before me than one all cut up,
INGENIOUS BOY. U
and so had any of you. Besides, we ought to
have some pride in keeping the house decent,
as well as the master. In giving this pledge
we only promise not to do what we ought not
to do any way. If we do n't give it, Will
must be whipped, and then if we cut the desks
we shall be whipped with him. For my part
I am for giving the pledge with all my heart
—who votes aye ?" He then put it to vote,
and every one shouted, " aye."
William came in with the cloud gone from
his face, and said that the boys had all given
the pledge. Others confirmed his report, so
I dismissed him to his seat, and I was as glad
as he at the success of the plan.
" But, father," interrupted Mary, " did the
boys keep their promise ?"
" Yes, that they did, like real men of honor.
I did not have to speak to them again on that
subject during the whole winter, and in the
spring you could not find on the desks, besides
that one notch, any thing worse than pin
scratches."
" I guess," said Henry, " they obeyed the
rule better than if you had whipped William
for breaking it."
" Yes, I have no doubt they did ; but what
do you think made them ?"
" I guess," said Mary, " it was because they
thought more about the rule, and saw how
good and reasonable it was."
" And I guess," said little Andrew, " that
they loved youccnore when they found out that
you did n't want to whip them."
" T think also," said Henry, " they felt glad
10 SABBATH -READINGS.
to have you trust them like men, as you did
when you asked William to get from them a
pledge on their honor."
" Yes, I suppose all these things helped
them to be obedient. You know that God
helps men to obey his law by making them see
in the death of his Son, how important and ho-
ly the law is ; how much he loves men, and
how unwilling he is to punish them, since he
gave his Son to die that they might not be
punished; and then when they sincerely re-
pent, he forgives them and treats them as his
own children."
The Brothers.
" GOOD-BYE my dear children ; I hope to
be at home before six o'clock. Be good boys
while I am gone and remember what I told
you about going out of the yard," said Mrs.
Clifford, as she ran down the steps in front of
their pleasant residence and entered the car-
riage which was waiting for her outside
the gate.
Fred. and Charlie watched it until it turned
the corner and was lost to sight. Then they
ran around to the end yard and began to con-
sider what they should do to amuse them-
selves through the afternoon.
" Let us play with our hoops for a little
while," said Charlie, " the ground is as hard
as can be, and not a bit dustyaeither."
" I had just as soon do that as anything,"
replied Fred., " or stay-=I will tell you what
THE BROTHERS. 11
will be better. Let us go and pull the weeds
out of our gardens. I went round that way
this morning before I went to school, and you
can't think how they have grown. I. do n't
believe we have weeded any for more than a
week, and our poor flowers are all hidden by
the great ugly fellows. Now, let us get them
all out, and rake the path nicely, and then to-
night we will invite mother to come out and
see them. Besides, I should n't wonder if we
had time to play a little afterwards."
" I do n't like to work Wednesday after-
noon, but if you are going to, I will ; and then
we hall have two more days to play, you
know."
" How glad I am Mr. Norris had to go
away !" and Charlie threw his cap into the
air, and caught it with one hand, and ran af-
ter his brother who had already unlocked the
tool-house door. They went in and presently
returned with a couple of little rakes and hoes
and a wheelbarrow.
They were starting off in high glee with
their gardening utensils, when they spied a
party of boys coming down the road. " I de-
clare," exclaimed Fred., "if there is n't Hen-
ry Martin, and there's John Hitchcock, and
Bill Robinson, and ever so many more ! Come,
Charlie, where do you suppose they are go-
ing ?"—and they reached the gate just as the
party came along.
" Ah ! there you are," cried one, " hurry
and get your lines and come with us ; we are
going down to Meadow brook to fish. Isn't
it a splendid day ?"
12 SABBATH READINGS.
" 0, I should love to dearly," said Fred.,
" but mother has gone away, and she told us
to stay at home till she came back."
" That's too bad," said Bill Robinson,
"when is she coining ?"
" Not till nearly six o'clock."
" Well, then, come along, we shall not stay
very late, and she will never know."
" I should like it very much," whispered
Charlie to his brother, " I have a good mind
to go."
" But, Charlie, God will know, even if moth-
er does not. No, let us stay here. We shall
feel much happier."
" Come, we can 't wait all day," cried Bill,
" harry, if you are going with us."
" I can 't go," said Fred., resolutely, " so it
is no use to ask me, and I do n't believe Char-
lie will, either."
" Yes, !I will, Fred.," said Charlie, " it
wo' n't be any harm, and mother would let us
if she was at home, I know."
" But she will not like it, you know she will
not ; besides, I don't want to stay all alone."
" You need n't," returned Charlie, " come
with us, if you want to ; but, if you are such
a simpleton as to stay, mind you do n't tell
any tales !" and he ran off after the boys, leav-
ino• Fred. standing by the roadside.
''After they had gone Fred. felt very sad and
and lonely for a little while ; but he knew that
he had done right, and that thought comfort-
ed him so much, that after a few minutes he
determined to go to work and see if he could
not finish all he had to do in his garden before
THE BROTHERS. 13
Charlie returned. " And perhaps," said he
to himself, " I can do a little in Charlie's too."
There were more weeds to be pulled up
than he had thought there would be, and they
were very firmly imbedded in the soil, so that
he had only finished raking and smoothing
the path, and was just starting to wheel away
his load of rubbish when he heard his brother
calling him, and soon he saw him coming to-
ward the place where he was standing.
" Why Charlie !" he exclaimed, " what has
happened to you ?" No wonder he asked the
question, for poor Charlie was indeed in a sad
condition ; his face and hands were soiled and
bloody, his clean collar was rumpled and dirty,
and his jacket was badly torn.
" We did n't fish very long," said Charlie,
"but went out in the woods to play, and I
saw a squirrel and as I was trying to catch it,
you see, I stumbled over a root of a tree, and
down I went on the ground, and dirtied my
clothes and hurt myself. Then I went to
climb over a fence and tore my jacket, and
now do see what a plight I am in. I am go-
ing into the house to get fixed up before
mother comes. You won't tell of me, will
you ?"
" Not unless I am asked," replied Fred.,
but I think if you told the whole story your-
self it would be much better."
When Mrs. Clifford reached home she found
the boys standing on the door-steps. It was
very pleasant, so she told them she would
walk with them as far as the arbor at the bot-
tom of the garden, before she took off her
7 if
14 SABBATH READINGS.
bonnet. As they walked along she gave them
a little account of her ride and the different
calls she had made ; then she said, " now I
want to hear how you have spent the after-
noon."
Neither of the boys answered, and she
turned to Fred. and repeated the question.
" I have been working in my garden, mam-
ma," said he, "will you come and look at it,
we are almost there."
She complied with his request, and praised
its neatness as much as he could desire. " But
how is this, Charlie," she said, turning round,
" your garden has not been touched, and—
why, certainly these are not the clothes you
had on when I went away ! Why did you put
on your best jacket ?"
" I tore my other, getting over the fence,"
he replied, hesitatingly, and hanging his head.
" I do not quite understand this, my dear
children," said their mother, " something has
happened that you are unwilling to tell me.
Do not be afraid, for if it is nothing more
than tearing your jacket, Charlie, I shall not
be very much displeased."
" It is something more than that," cried
Charlie, " you told us not to go out of the
yard, and I disobeyed • you, and went with
some of the boys into the woods, and that is
what I did not like to tell you."
" I am sorry, my dear little boy, that you
should have been so disregardful of my com-
mands ; but I am more glad than I can tell,
to feel that you have not added to the sin of
disobedience that of lying. Always tell me
1
WHO DO YOU LOVE BEST ? 15
the truth, and the whole truth, when you have
done wrong, and I shall be far more willing
to forgive you than if I find it out in any oth-
er way. Pray to your heavenly Father that
you may ever be kept from this sin, and also
that you may better remember the command,
' Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for
this is right.' "
Who do you Love Best?
" Who do you love best?" said a little girl
to a number of her playmates, the eldest of
whom was not five years old.
" I love my teacher best," said Ella, " and
I love my little school-mates," shouted Arthur.
" So do I," said Emma and Mary.
" I love them all very much," said Susan,
"but I love my mother best, and father, too."
"I guess we all do," said Arthur, "that's
what I meant, but I love my playmates next
best, don't you, Laura ? "
"I love God best," replied Laura her face
beaming with smiles, "because he gave us our
father and mother, and always lets us have
somebody to take care of us. When Abbie's
mother died, he let her live with aunt Lizzie,
and he lets us have aunts, and cousins, and
teachers, and schoolmates, and everything."
.The children had not thought of this before,
but they knew that Laura was right, and I
hope they will always remember who it is
that gives them everything, and not forget to
thank him every day.
16 SABBATH READINGS.
"I Will Leave my Jesus, Never."
I WILL leave my Jesus, never !
On the cross for me he died;
Love shall draw me to him ever,
At his feet I will abide.
Of my life the light forever,
I will leave my Jesus, never.
In his name I stand acquitted
While upon the earth I stay ;
What I have to him committed
He will keep until that day.
Be his service my endeavor,
I will leave my Jesus, never.
Dwelling in his presence holy,
When at length I reach the place
Where with all the saints in glory
I shall see his lovely face.
Nothing now but bliss forever,
I will leave my Jesus, never.
Not the earth with all its treasure,
Could content this soul of mine.
Not alone for heavenly pleasure,
Doth my thirsty spirit pine ;
For its Saviour yearning ever,
I will leave my Jesus, never.
From that living fountain drinking,
Walking always at his side,
Christ shall lead me without sinking
Through the river's rushing tide ;
With the blest to sing forever,
I will leave my Jesus, never.
SEVF,NTII-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION,
Battle Creek, Mich.
Price, port paid, $2,00 per 100. Address Oder JILIZIOS CVhitc.
SABBATH READINGS.----No. 3.
Looking for a Place.
" WELL, Johnny, how have you succeeded
to-day, my son ?"
" Nothing good to-day, mother ; I have
been all over, almost, and no one would take
me. The book-stores, and dry goods stores,
and groceries, have lenty of boys already;
but I think if you had been with me, I would
have stood a better chance."
"Why so, my son?"
" 0, you look so thin and pale, mother,
somebody would have felt sorry, and so have
taken me ; but nobody knew me, and nobody
saw you."
A tear stole down the face of the little boy
as he spoke for he was almost discouraged ;
and when his mother saw the tear, not a few
ran down hers also.
It was a cold, bleak night, and poor John-
ny had been out all day, looking for " a place."
He had persevered, although constantly re-
fused, till it was quite dark, and then gave up,
thinking his mother must be very tired wait-
ing for him.
His mother was a widow, and a very poor
one. She had maintained herself by needle-
work till a severe spell of sickness had confin-
ed her to the bed, and she was unable to do
more.
2 SABBATH READINGS.
She told her little son to sit down by the
fire, while she prepared his supper. The fire
and the supper were very scanty, but Johnny
knew they were the best she could provide,
and he felt that he would rather share such a
fire, and such a supper, with such a mother,
than sit at the best filled table with anybody
else, who did not love him as she did, and
whom he did not love as he did her.
After a few moments of silence the-boy look-
ed up into his mother's face with more than
usual seriousness—" Mother," said he, do you
think it would be wrong to ask my new Sab-
bath-School teacher about it on a Sabbath ?"
" No, my son, not if you have no other op-
portunity, and I think he would be a very
suitable person, too ; at least, I should think
he would be interested in getting you a good
place."
" Well, to-morrow is the Sabbath, and
when the class breaks up, I believe I will ask
him."
After reading a portion of God's holy Word,
the mother and her little boy kneeled down to-
gether in their loneliness, and prayed the Lord
most earnestly to take care of them and pro-
vide for them. They were very poor, but
they knew that God cared for the poor. They
knew also that God would do what was best
for them. 0, it is a sweet thing to the soul
to be able to say sincerely, "Thy will be
done."
" I feel happier now," said John, " I was so
tired when I came in that I felt quite cross,
I know I did—did I not look so, mother ?"
LOOKING FOR A PLACE. 3
The mother's heart, also, was full, and she
gave her boy one long, affectionate kiss, which
was sweeter to him than many words.
Next morning was the Sabbath. Johnny's
breakfast was more scanty than ever, but he
said not a word about that, for he saw that
his mother ate very little of it. But one or
two sticks of wood were left outside the door
where it was kept, and he knew that both food
and fire might all be gone before night. They
had no money to buy any with for several
days.
The Sabbath-School bell rang. The sun
was shining bright and clear, but the air was
exceedingly cold. The child had no over-
coat, and was still Wearing part of his sum-
mer clothing. He was in his seat just as the
superintendent and his teacher entered.
" Who is that little pale-faced boy in your
class ?" asked the superintendent of the teacher.
His name is Jones; he lives on Stone street,
and I must visit him this very week. He is
very regular, and a well-behaved boy."
" I should like to know more about him,
after school."
The superintendent did not forget him,
and when the classes broke up, seeing him
linger behind the other scholars, he went up
and took him by the hand kindly.
" You have been here to school several Sab-
baths have you not, my boy ?" said he.
"Yes, sir, I came just a month ago to-
day,"
" Had you ever been to school before that
time ?"

4 SABBATH READINGS.
" Yes, sir, before mother was taken sick I
used to go to — street school, but that was
a great way off, and when mother got better,
and you opened this new school, she advised
me to come here; it is so much nearer."
" Well, did I see you yesterday looking for
a place on Water street ?"
I was down there, sir, looking for a place."
" Why did you not take that place, which
the gentlemen had for you, in the large gro-
cery store ?"
"Do you mean the store where the great
copper worm stood on the side walk ?"
" Yes."
" Ah, sir, I did n't know they sold rum
there when I first went in, and when I saw
what kind of a store it was I was afraid."
" Have you a father ?"
"No, sir, father is dead ;" and the little boy
hung down his head.
" What did your father do, my son—what
business was he in ?
" Sir, he once kept a large store like that."
and the child shuddered when he answered.
" Why did you not keep the piece of gold
money that you found on the floor, as you
were coming into the store ?"
" Because it was not mine, sir, and I thought
that the gentleman would find the owner soon-
er than I would."
" He did, my boy, it was my money. Did
you get a place yesterday ?"
" No, sir, all the places were full, and no-
body knew me."
" Well, my boy, you may go now and tell
RICH GIRL AND POOR BOY. 5
your mother that you've got a place. Come
to see me early in the morning ; your teacher
will tell you where I live."
Johnny went home with his heart and ears
so full that he could hardly see the street or
anything else, as he went along. He knew
that it would cheer his dear mother very
much, and so it did. His superintendent pro-
cured a good place for him, and they were
made quite comfortable and happy.
Surely this story carries its own moral.
The Rich Girl and the Poor Boy.
MARIAN LESTER, a pretty 'girl of nine years,
I
came listlessly down the wide stair-case of her
father's princely house one morning. She
had nothing to do—this favorite of fortune—
but to act her own pleasure, and enjoy herself
as she listed.
But Marian Lester was an unhappy, be-
cause a passionate, ill-tempered little girl.
On the same morning that Marian Lester
came down the grand stairway, a child was
lifting himself from a bed of rags. His play-
things were a meager stock—a hoop from a
broken barrel, and a patched ball composed
the whole.
Not long after, Marian set out for school,
accompanied by her little maid, not much ol-
der than herself. The little mistress had been
captious all day and seemed bent upon mak-
ing an exhibition of her temper. An oppor—
tunity soon occurred ; her maid differed from
6 SABBATH READINGS.
her as to the crossing of a particular street.
Marian declared that she was right, and the
/We companion that her mistress was wrong;
upon which the arbitrary girl gave her maid
a push, sending her headlong into the gutter.
Frightened, angry, and hurt, the girl scram-
bled up as best she could, and leaving the
books and slate scattered on the side walk,
ran crying to her home.
And there stood Marian the picture of an
evil nature, her eyes flashing, her whole frame
trembling with rage.
At that moment there came trundling his
hoop and shouting, the lad I have mentioned
before. His face was all mirth, his eyes
twinkled, and the dimples could be seen in
his cheeks despite the dirt. At sight of Ma-
rian, he paused, and comprehending the cause
of her trouble, he sprang towards her, and
with a good natured, " I'll pick 'em up for
you, Miss," he bent down toward the side-
walk. For a moment the eyes of the proud
girl blazed, then stamping her delicate boot
on the pavement, she cried, springing for-
ward, " You horrid little wretch, do n't touch
those with your dirty fingers !"
The boy sprang up as if he had been struck.
He gathered himself together as he for the
first time, perhaps, noticed the difference, and
tears of mortification rushed to his eyes. He
looked at his hands, all the time drawing back
slowly, and his lips quivered.
" That was rather an ungrateful return, my
boy, for the offer of a kind deed," said a deep
voice near by. Marian glanced up ; her fath-
RICH GIRL AND POOR BOY.
er stood before her, a look of displeasure in
the eyes that were bent upon her. She shrank
from his gaze ; and when he gravely bade the
boy to take up the books and bring them home
with him, she burst into tears, indignant,
shamed, and vexed.
Mr. Lester was not a Christian, but he oft-
en did benevolent deeds, when, as he express-
ed himself, " the whim seized him." He liked
the good natured, intelligent face of the lad,
and immediately set about bettering his con-
dition. Washed and clothed the boy seemed
like another being; and it seemed as if the
reproof Marian had given him, wicked as it
was in spirit, incited him to strive to become
worthy of the confidence reposed in him.
Year after year he became more thoughtful
and studious, till Mr. Lester, seeing the bent
of his mind, determined to make him a thor-
ough scholar. Now see the providence of
God. At the age of sixteen, Marian Lester
was thrown from her horse, and so severely
injured that she never again walked out into the
beautiful sunlight. In that same year her fa-
ther died a bankrupt, and there was no home
for his poor, helpless child. Then came John
Walters, the once boy whom she had despis-
ed, but who was now settled with his young
wife in a flourishing village, and the pastor of
a loving people—took the poor invalid to his
own house, and surrounded her with every
comfort that heart could wish. But best of
all he led her to that Saviour he had found ;
and often she would revert with tears of sor-
row to the time when, in her wicked pride,
8 SABBATH READINGS.
she hated him because he was one of God's
poor children—and cried to him, contemptu-
ously, " Do n't touch those with your dirty
fingers."
Those fingers now ministered bread unto
her; and from those lips that quivered at the
rude command so long ago, she heard first of
the bread of life.
Wronged for Doing Right.
JOHN WEST was a poor, but noble-hearted
boy. He was selling fruit one day in the
streets of a large city. As he walked along
with his basket he kept looking up at the win-
dows to see if any good housewife wanted to
buy his nice fresh fruit. While thus engaged,
he saw a beautiful little girl, leaning far over
the window seat in the second story of a very
fine house. Fearing the child might fall and
be dashed to pieces, he rushed to the door of
the mansion, which was open, placed his bas-
ket in the hall, leaped up stairs, dashed into
the chamber, and seized the child, just as los-
ing her balance, she was about to fall. Had
he been a few seconds later, the child would
have been killed.
A moment or two afterward the nurse-maid,
who had left the child unwatched, returned to
the chamber. The boy told her how he had
saved the little girl's life ; but the maid, fear,
ing her mistress might hear of her neglect, if
the boy's story was believed, flew into a pas-
sion, and said ;
WRONGED FOR DOING RIGHT. 9
" Away with your base lies ! You came
here to steal, you little thief. Get out of the
house with you, or I will give you to a police
officer. Get out, you young thief!
The poor boy was too much surprised at
this base charge to say a word, so he went
down stairs feeling very much grieved. But,
alas ! how much greater was the grief when
on reaching the hall, he found that the other
servants had taken all his fruit !
" Oh, dear !" he cried, " what shall I do ?
My poor aunt and my sister depend on the
profits I make by selling it, for their living.
Oh, give me my fruit, good people ! or if you
have eaten it, give me money to pay for it."
This was said to a group of servants which
had gathered on the stairs, led by a well fed
butler. The guilty nurse-maid had followed
the boy part way down stairs, and on hearing
his complaint, she shouted :
" Turn him out ! turn him out ! he is a
young thief. I caught him up stairs trying to
steal something just now. Hand him over to
the police, if he wont go quietly, butler."
" Out with you,"cried the butler, in a gruff
voice, as he gave him the empty basket, and
pushed him weeping into the street.
The nurse-maid now thought her neglect of
the child, and its narrow escape from being
dashed to pieces, would not reach the ears of
her mistress. The other servants thought
they had easily got rid of the boy they had so
meanly robbed.
But (they were all mistaken. Their sins
found them out ; for a gentleman who from
IO SABBATH READINGS.,
an opposite window, had seen the child's dan-
ger, and John's prompt effort to save her, met
him outside the house, and said :
" What ails you, my good boy ? Why do
you weep ? Tell me what is the matter."
Thus encouraged, John told the gentleman
what had been said and done to him in the
house. Having heard his story, the kind-
hearted man said :
" It is too bad they should abuse you, my
noble boy, for doing a noble act. Come with
me, I will set the matter right."
Then taking him by the hand, he led John
back to the house, rang the bell, sent his name
up stairs, and was soon ushered with poor
John into the presence of the lady who was
mistress of the mansion, and mother of the lit-
tle girl whose life the boy had so recently
saved.
To her he related what he had witnessed,
and what the servants had done to the boy.
The result was, the nurse-maid was sent about
her business, the servants rebuked, and made
to pay John handsomely for his fruit. John
was also offered a splendid gift by the lady.
" No, madam," he replied respectfully, " I
cannot accept a reward for doing my duty.
Now that I am cleared from the suspicion of
theft, and have the pay for my fruit, I am con-
tent, and shall go home happy."
Noble John West ! He fell into trouble for
doing right. But God took care of him, you
see, and did not leave him to suffer a great
while. God also brought quick confusion on
the heads of those mean and wicked servants.
THE TEMPTING GLOVES. 11
Learn, then, boys and girls, that it is always
better to suffer for doing right than it is to ob-
tain profit by doing wrong. Mark what I
say. It is always safe to do right—never safe
to do wrong; because God watches over the
right-doer, and punishes the wrong doer.
ark that.
The Tempting Gloves.
WE extract the following story from
" Bright Pictures from Child Life," a beauti-
ful work for children, by Cousin Fannie.
It was Christmas evening. In the Christ-
mas market sparkled numberless lights, and
their bright beams were beautifully reflected
by the various wares which tempted and invi-
ted purchasers.
Many children passed to and fro—gazed
ith wide open eyes at the wonderful array of
pretty things—and some were induced, after
long seeking, to spend the few pennies saved
in the money-box for this very occasion.
There were parents and other friends of
children standing in the well arranged shops,
buying and examining the gifts with which
they wished to delight their dear ones.
In the midst of the grown persons and chil-
dren who thronged the market place, stood a
young girl named Magdelain. She was
alone, and gazed sadly, with a heavy heart, at
the brilliant and beautiful array spread out on
every siee.
Her parents were very poor, and for this
12 SABBATH READINGS.
reason had placed her in the service of a lady,
where she was employed out of school hours
in going on errands, and in working with her
needle. For her services she received small
wages, which she faithfully took to her pa-
rents, who could do little for their own sup-
port, having other children to feed and
clothe.
Magdelain was sent, this Christmas evening,
on an errand by the lady with whom she
lived. Her way led through the Christmas
market. How gladly she would have pur-
chased some little thing as a Christmas gift!
Yet, for that, money was needful, and money
she had none.
She thought and said softly to herself; "I
could give up playthings, or pretty things I
could well use, if I might buy a warm dress,
a shawl, or a pair of warm gloves."
It was very cold. Magdelain shivered, and
her teeth chattered, for she. was but scantily
and thinly dressed. She blew on her half fro-
zen hands, and wrapped them in her apron.
"I do not want either cakes or candy, nor
dolls, nor playthings. But, oh, I wish so for
a pair of warm gloves !"
She drew near to one of the shops where
many articles of wearing apparel were sold.
The cold wind which blew the candle lights
to and fro, seemed to pierce to the very bones
of the poor girl, and she tremblingly drew
herself together to keep warm.
On the right side of the shop, on the coun-
ter, lay a pair of warm woolen gloves, lined
with soft skin. Magdelain saw them, and the
THE TEMPTING GLOVES. 13
longer she stood looking at them the better
she liked them ; they looked, too, as if they
would just fit her hand.
Her gaze seemed fastened on the gloves—
even from the moment she had seen them her
hands felt warmer.
But buy—buy them she could not; they
were well made and prettily wrought, and
must be expensive.
Then came another thought to her mind: "I
will secretly take them." The shopkeeper
stood on the other side of the shop attending'
to a purchaser, and busily engaged in praising
his goods. Magdelain stood alone, unnoticed,
beside the gloves.
She thought and reflected—but the gloves
were so pretty, and seemed so warm; her
hands which she had drawn out of her apron,
were quite stiff with frost.
Already she had stretched out her arm ; al-
ready she was about to seize the gloves and
rapidly conceal them. Her whole body was
hot and cold by turns; her heart beat loud-
ly ; she could scarcely breathe; she trembled.
Suddenly pealed out, with clear, startling
tones, the organ of the neighboring cathedral.
It was a voice, earnest and warning, speak-
ing to Magdelain's heart. Quickly she drew
back her arm, and the gloves lay still on the
counter.
As a voice from heaven did Magdelain re-
ceive the solemn organ tones ; they seemed to
say to her, " It is wrong that thou wouldst do.
Thou shalt not steal! "
Magdelain obeyed the voice. She turned
14 SABBATH READINGS.
to leave the shop just as there entered a lady
richly dressed, and warmly wrapped in a cloak
of fur.
She examined and purchased some articles,
and then took the gloves in her hand which
had tempted Magdelain. She demanded the
price, and purchased them. Magdelain had
seen this, and was glad that the fatal gloves
were now entirely removed from her eyes.
The lady turned to leave the shop, and Mag-
delain recognized her. She was the lady
with whom she lived.
Now, for whom had she bought the gloves ?
Surely not for herself; she could hardly wear
them ! Her mind occupied with these
thoughts, Magdelain went hastily from the
Christmas market to attend to the errand on
which she was sent.
In returning homeward again, Magdelain
came through the market place. She said, as
she passed the spot where she had been so
sorely tempted, " Oh what a fearful moment
that was ! God, I thank thee, that thou didst
warn and deliver me from the danger which
would have destroyed me ! No ! rather will
I hunger and freeze than--."
" Away with you to prison, boy ! You will
learn hereafter to keep your hands off! We'll
soon cure you of your fancy for stealing.
March ! "
Magdelain was startled by these harsh
words from the revery into which she had fallen.
A police officer had seized a wild, unruly
boy, and was taking him off.
Magdelain ran swiftly, with a beating heart,
THE TEMPTING GLOVES. 15
from the market place, and did not pause till
she reached home.
She entered the room. Oh, what a sur-
prise ! The table was covered with Christ-
mas gifts. There were pretty and useful articles
—cakes and candies, clothing, and, above all,
the well-known gloves.
The lady with whom she lived came kindly
to her, took her hand, and said, "Dear Mag-
delain, because you are so honest and indus-
trious, so kind and true, and have served me
so faithfully, take from me, as an expression
of my gratitude, a Christmas gift. Look ! all on
the table is your own ; take all and be happy !"
Magdelain thanked her with tears of joy
and surprise. Strangely, however, did she feel
as her mistress singled out the articles, and
said, " See, here is a cap, here a pair of shoes,
here a shawl! and what do you say to these
gloves ? Do they please you? Yes, they will
keep your hands very warm! Now take all
these things to the house of your parents—
show them what you have earned by your
honesty and industry."
On her mother's neck, with sobs and tears, did
Magdelain relate to her the story of her sin
and temptation.
Her mother said, "Be good, my child, and
pray to be kept from sinful desires ; then it
shall go well with you!" And at night, be-
fore Magdelain went to her bed, she sank on
her knees and sent a prayer to her Father in
heaven:
"Lead us not into temptation, but deliver
us from evil! Amen."
16 SABBATH READINGS.
That Better Land.
0 ! TALK to me of that better land!
A land by faith I see,
Where saints, a glory-crowned band,
Shall reign eternally.
0 ! talk to me of that evergreen field,
Bathed by life's flowing river,
Where flowers, rarest fragrance yield
Forever, aye, forever.
0 ! talk to me of that better land !
Where bloom's life's verdant tree,
0 ! tell me of that starry band
Whose fadeless glory I see ;—
Aye ! there in the saints' blest home
Shall be no slow decay,
No storm, no tempest ever come,
No night, but endless day.
0 ! talk to me of that better land !
Where never shall fall a tear,
Nor sorrow-stricken mourners stand
Around a loved one's bier.
But where eternal youth shall bloom
With brightly beaming eye,—
No more is seen the narrow tomb,
For death itself shall die.
SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION,
Battle Creek, Mich.
Prise, post-paid, $2,00 per 100. Address Elder James White.
SABBATH READINGS.----No 4,
The Good Shepherd.
" I am theiGood Shepherd : the Good Shepherd giv-
eth his life for the sheep." John x, 11.
WHO says this ? Jesus. ' He is the Good
Shepherd. A good shepherd watches over
the sheep when they lie down, and when they
crop the tender grass, and when they seek the
shade of the fence or tree. His eye is not off
of them a moment, lest they should stray away
and be devoured by wolves or dogs. 0, yes,
and the heavenly Shepherd is good and kind!
He is full of love for his sheep and lambs. He
watches and keeps them. He feeds them.
He gently leads them about, and carries them
in his arms when they are weary. Would not
you like to he one of his dear little lambs, to
be carried in Jesus kind bosom? Your pious
parents, your pastor, or your kind Sabbath-
School teachers, pray every day to him to keep
you in his fold, safe from all harm.
When you are frightened or unhappy, run
to Jesus, the Good Shepherd, and he will take
care of you. And when you feel you are go-
ing to do wrong, still run to Jesus, and ask
him to forgive you, and help you to do right
again.
Do n't be afraid of him; he is the Good
Shepherd, and loves his lambs. There is a
beautiful song in the Bible, telling all that the
2 SABBATH READINGS.
Good Shepherd does for his sheep. It is in
the twenty-third psalm.
"The Good Shepherd giveth his life for the
sheep,"—that is, Jesus Christ gave his life for
us. He died for us. Yes, he was taken and
nailed upon a cross of wood. Nails were
driven into his hands and feet, and a sharp
spear was run into his side by crueimen, and
he hung there in bitter pain, and dreadful ag-
ony, till at last he died. 0, what a loving
Saviour, to bear all this to save us from dying.
This is the reason we call him " our SAVIOUR.
And' so he was the lamb of God which taketh
away the sin of the world, and the Good Shep-
herd who giveth his life for the sheep.
And now, dear children, what must we do
for this kind, this loving Lord Jesus, who died
for us, to save us from dying? First, we must
love him for his love ; and then he says, " If
ye love me, keep my commandments."
And besides all this love in dying for us
poor sinners, he gives us everything we have.
He gives us our parents, our brothers and sis-
ters, our food and friends, and makes us hap-
py; and he will make us holy, too, if we ask
him to do so.
I knew a dear little boy once. His name
was Charlie. He was a long time very ill ;
but his heart was full of love for his dear Sav-
iour. One day his father brought him some
nice grapes. He kissed and thanked his
father, and then he said to his mother, " 0,
mother, how kind it is of Jesus, first to die for
us, and then to give us all these things."
-Would our young friends like to do what this
LESSON ON SELF-DENIAL.
kind Saviour tells them to do ?, Yes. They
would like to know what he tells them to do.
Well, he tells them in his precious word,
which they study at school and at home, too,
we hope.
A Lesson of Self-Denial.
"I DO hope the canal will freeze over to-
night, so that I can try my new skates in the
morning," said Freddy Holland, one cold even-
ing to his school-mates.
" It's cold enough to freeze anything, I
should think, but have you new skates ?"
"Yes, father bought me a beautiful pair,
this morning ; come home with me and I will
show them to you."
"Agreed ! boys, let 's all go home by Mr.
Holland's and see Fred's new skates.
" Well, I will for one," " and I for two,"
said another, and so on, laughing and shout-
ing, the troop of boys drew up in front of Mr.
Holland's handsome residence.
" Now for a sight of the new skates !"
" Just let me put my books in the house,
and then I'll bring them out to you," said
Fred ; " I know you will all say they are
worth looking at."
" 0, but they are grand ones," was the uni-
versal exclamation, when Fred re-appeared
with his skates. " Why, I never saw any
like them!"
" No, they are a new kind ; Mr. Smith un-
packed, them last night : father bought the
4 SABBATH READINGS.
very best pair from the lot, and he picked out
the highest priced pair, too ; how glad I felt
when I saw them !
" Well, if they ain't just the nicest skates
that ever were seen ; they must have cost a
great deal, though."
" Father never buys a poor article ! and
there is not another such a pair of skates near-
er than New York city," said Fred boastingly.
" 0, if Mr. Smith has received a lot of them,
I guess there are others as good as yours,"
said Jemmy Fritz, laughing.
" I tell you there ain't ; the others are very
nice, but these cost half a dollar more than
any of them."
" You always think your things a little bet-
ter than other peoples ; how much are the
others ?"
" Different prices ; two dollars, a dollar
and a half, and some a dollar and a quarter."
" I've got a dollar and a quarter of my own
money, and I mean to have a pair of them."
"I mean to coax father to get me a pair."
"Father has promised me a new pair this
winter ; I hope he will get them to night."
" I mean to have a pair before this time to-
morrow."
Just then two men passed by, and one said
to the other, "It is stinging cold to-night; I
think the canal will be closed before morn-
ing."
Good news," cried Fred, clapping his
hands.
"I'll tell you what it is, boys, let all of us
who can raise skates meet on the ice right
LESSON ON SELF-DENIAL. 5
away after breakfast, and skate till school-
time."
" Well, that will be fine."
" You will come wont you, Edwin Merrick ?"
" I wish I could," replied Edwin sadly,
"but I have n't any skates."
" Can't your father get you a pair ? " asked
one of the boys.
" He has n't any father," said another, com-
passionately.
" Has n't he ? I didn't know that."
All the boys felt so sorry for Edwin that
they did not care to talk about their skat-
ing any longer. They wanted to say some-
thing to comfort him; but, boy-like, they
did not know how. So they separated
for their different homes, each one thinking
how hard it was for a little boy to have no
father to buy him skates, and other nice
things.
"Oh, those beautiful skates !" thought Ed-
win, as he walked slowly home ; " I do wish
I had a pair : I wonder if mother could n't
get them ! " But when he went to the house,
and saw his mother toiling over her sewing
to get them needful food, he felt that it would
be wrong to ask her. " I wonder if there is
no other way in which I can get them,"
thought he, and long after he went to bed that
night, he lay tossing and wondering to him-
self whether he could not earn the money to
buy them. The next morning he called at Mr.
Smith's store to look at the skates, and saw a
pair for a dollar and a half which he thought
just as good as those over which Freddy had
6 SABBATH READINGS.
boasted so. " Nice article, that," said Mr.
Smith, " is just about the right size for you."
"Mr. Smith," Edwin begun, and then he
cleared his throat two or three times before
he could get on ; " Mr. Smith, is there any
way in which I can earn money enough to
pay for these ?"
" Why yes, the boy that I had here to run
errands and carry home parcels is sick ; if you
choose to come and take his place, you can
earn them in a few days."
"I should like to, but mother wishes me to
go to school."
"And you wish for the skates ?"
" Yes, sir."
" Well, if you will come to me a couple of
hours in the morning, and again in the even-
ing, when school is done, you shall have the
skates in two weeks. Do you think your
mother can let you ?"
" I guess so, sir ; I'll go home and ask her."
His mother readily gave her permission,
when she saw how anxious her little boy was
to get the skates. So Edwin began to get up
very early in the morning, that he might fin-
ish all his mother wanted done by breakfast
time, and be ready to go and work for Mr.
Smith immediately after.
A hopeful spirit makes a light foot, and Ed-
win was so quick in doing errands that Mr.
Smith was pleased with him, and in about ten
days said, " Edwin, to-morrow there is no
school, if you Will come and help me all day, you
shall have the skates to take home with you.
My other boy will be back next week." Ed-
LESSON ON SELF DENIAL.
win's eyes glistened as he ran home to tell his
mother the good news. He heard the shouts
of the boys on the canal (for it was now a fine
skating place), and he said to himself, " To-
morow night at this time I'll be with them,
and as happy as a king, with my new skates,
all my own earning."
He found his mother busy preparing some-
thing for his grandmother's rheumatism, and
as the old lady groaned out with the pain in
her shoulder, she said. " I am afraid I shall al-
ways have it until I get a warm shawl to wear
in cold weather."
"Do put on your black one," said his
mother.
" Oh, no, I hope to get to church again,
when spring comes, and must keep that shawl
decent to wear there. Besides it is not thick
enough to keep off the rheumatism. A little
blanket shawl would be the thing."
"I know it. and I must try and get you one
very soon."
Has n't grandmother any warm shawl ? "
asked Edwin.
" No."
" How much would it cost, mother ?"
" About a dollar and a half."
"Just the price of my skates," thought Ed-
win. How nice it would be for me to give
her a shawl. How I should enjoy to see her
wear it, and in thinking I had helped to keep
away her rheumatism. But, then, I should
have to go without the skates ; all the other
boys have them, and it would be so pleasant
to go with them to the canal to-morrow night!
8 SABBATH READINGS.
Shall I give up all this pleasure or not ? I'll
think about it." He did think, not only that
night, but all the next day while doing his er-
rands. When he had carried home the last
parcel for his employer, he went back to get
his pay ; and when that gentleman laid down
his skates, saying; " there they are, my boy,
all your own ; may you have a merry time
with them," his heart swelled with joy for a
moment to think that he owned the long-cov-
eted skates. But then he remembered his grand-
mother, and though the tears sprung to his
eyes, he said in a tolerably steady voice,
"would you as lief, sir, that I take one of
those blanket shawls instead of the skates ?"
" A blanket shawl ! what in the world
would you do with it?"
" Give it to my grandmother, sir."
" What sudden change is this ? I thought
you were half crazy for a pair of skates !"
" So I was but I heard grandmother say
last night she could never get well of the
rheumatism until she had a warm shawl."
" And you are going to treat her to one,
ha ?"
" I should like to."
" Very well, select the nicest shawl in the
store. There, what do you think of that drab
one ?"
" Just the thing for grandmother, but have
I earned as much as that?"
" Yes, and more too ; a boy so thoughtful
of his grandmother's comfort," he replied, as
he carefully wrapt up the shawl."
" Thank you, sir," said Edwin, leaving the
LESSON ON SELF-DENIAL. 9
store with the parcel in his hand. He did not
dare to give another look at the skates : for
somehow they had not seemed so attractive as
then. When he passed near the canal he
whistled loud that he might not hear the
shouts of the merry skaters ; but in spite of
himself, his eyes filled wih tears as he remem-
bered he had no skates. But when he enter-
ed the house, and slipping up to his grand-
mother, spread the shawl around her shoul-
ders, he had to laugh at her look of sur-
prise.
" 0, what a nice, warm shawl," she kept
saying over and over again. " What a fine
thing to keep off the rheumatism ! If I had
such a shawl as that, I should be made up for
life."
" Be made up,' then, grandmother," he
said merrily, " the shawl is yours, and nobody
else's."
" Mine ? " asked the old lady, in amazement.
" Yes, yours ; I earned it running errands
for Mr. Smith, and I want you to wear it, for
my sake, grandmother."
"Dear heart, may the Lord bless you!"
and she laid her trembling hand upon his
head, while her lips moved in prayer for
him.
Never had grandmother looked so well as
on that evening, wrapped in Edwin's shawl.
She seemed so comfortable and happy that he
was more than paid for his sacrifice.
" And you gave up your skates, Edwin, to
make grandmother comfortable."
10 SABBATH READINGS.
" She needed the shawl so much more,
mother."
" My darling son ! " was all she could say;
but she resolved in her heart that her child
should have a pair of skates, too, if she had to
sew all night to get them. She did not know
that God had put it into the hearts of some
other friends to give them•to him, and that her
extra toil would not be required.
On the Sabbath Edwin felt very happy, seeing
his grandmother in her warm shawl, and he
thought to himself, " If I had the skates I
could not enjoy them to-day; but grandmoth-
er can use her shawl all the time—I am glad
I got it."
" That is a fine little lad of the widow Mer-
rick's," said Mr. Smith to some gentlemen
who were in his store the other evening, " a
manly little fellow," he repeated, and then he
told the story of the skates and shawl.
" The good boy ! he shall have a pair of
skates, for he deserves them if ever a lad did;"
and money was quickly produced to pay for
the best pair of skates in the store.
The next morning when Edwin was in
the yard sawing wood, a boy came up and
handed him a parcel on which was written,
" For Master Edwin Merrick, from some
friends who have heard with pleasure of his
generous conduct to his grandmother, and
who feel that, though men, they might learn a
lesson of self-denial from a boy."
Edwin tore open the paper hastily, and
shouted for joy when he saw the skates.
SELF-RELIANCE. 11
Self-Reliance.
" HAVE you any work that I can do ?" said
a little boy of ten summers, to a stern-faced
merchant who was busily examining a well-
filled ledger, in a large retail establishment in
the village of T—.
He was a small boy for his age, and looked
more like rambling over field and wood in boy-
ish pursuits, than in filling the capacity of a
clerk. He was habited in clothes that be-
spoke him acquainted with poverty's priva-
tions, but they were scrupulously clean, and
bore the impress of a kind mother's solicitous
care in the neatly mended rents and thread-
bareness. The straight-forward manner in
which he interrogated the merchant, showed
him to be possessed of perseverance and
courage.
The merchant finished the entry he was
making, and turned with a refusal on his lips ;
but seeing the pleading look upon the little
applicant's face, his curiosity was aroused to
know the cause of this unexpected request for
employment, in one so childlike in appearance.
"Was it you that inquired for work ? " he
commenced.
"Yes, sir, if you please," was the prompt re-
ply—and the little fellow looked wistfully in
the merchant's face for a confirmation of the
hope that swelled in his little bosom.
His honest manners prepossessed the man of
business in his favor, who continued his ques-
tions.
" Why do you seek labor so young, my lad?"
12 SABBATH READINGS.
" Because, sir, it would relieve my mother,
and," dropping his eyes to the floor, I would
feel better if I could earn money myself."
It was a simple answer, and went directly
to the merchant's heart ; for it recalled to his
mind a period when he, as helpless and de-
pendent as the applicant before him, solicited
work, and was supplied by a benevolent mer-
chant, who when his industry and honesty
sanctioned it, gave him an interest in his bus-
iness.
" Is your father living ? " inquired the mer-
chant.
A tear sprang from its fountain, and cours-
ed slowly down the little fellow's cheek as he
answered in a low voice :
"No, sir, he died two months ago."
Another chord was made to vibrate in the
merchant's heart, for his father died when he
was young, and instantly his last dying coun-
sel flashed before him as if he beheld it off a
printed page. He mused a moment.
" What was your father's name, my boy?"
" Thomas Melville, sir, and mine is Willie."
" What labor do you think you can engage
in ? I like your appearance, and if you can
be of any service, I will willingly employ you."
" I can go on errands, sir, and carry pack-
ages for the customers."
" Well, that will do. Come early on Mon-
day morning, and I will find work for you."
A glad "thank you, sir," escaped the joyful
little fellow, as he sprang away to convey to
his toiling mother his budget of good news.
The heartily uttered words sent an addi-
SELF-RELIANCE. 13
tional thrill of pleasure to his benefactor's
heart; for those words sounded much like the
same he had given utterance to years gone by.
Bright and early Monday morning, Willie
Mellville repaired to his post, and was imme-
diately set to work by the head clerk of the es-
tablishment : and before many weeks had
passed away, he was the general favorite of
all the employees connected with the firm.
Years sped onward and many of them wit-
nessed the mercantile success of Willie Mell-
ville.
Many a young man can learn a lesson, if he
will from this little sketch. It is gratifying to
see a young man possessed of fortitude, in-
dustry, and courage, carving out for himself a
way through the world; and if this spirit of
enterprise, and self-reliance was infused into
every heart just swelling with the healthful
blood of youth and manhood, how many
rogues and despicable villains would have
been snatched from disgrace and ruin.
America is teeming with boys and young
men who have suffered their youth to pass by
wholly unimproved and neglected—who have
lived from childhood lazy, good-for-nothing
lives—lounging round their homes, relying on
no their fathers for the food that sustains
them, and clothes that cover their indolent
bodies ; careless where these comforts are
forthcoming.
And when reverse of fortune visits their
families, and they are thrust forth upon the
world, portionless and without a means of
livelihood, they become frequenters, and final-
14 SABBATH READINGS.
ly attaches of saloons and groggeries ; and
their indolent habits becoming second nature,
they persist in their chosen course, and ulti-
mately find a felon's doom for their reward.
Where the Gold is.
Tort JONES was a little fellow, and not so
quick to learn as some boys; but nobody in
the class could beat him in his lessons. He
rarely missed in geography, never in spelling,
and his arithmetic was always correctly done;
as for his reading, no boy improved like him.
The boys were fairly angry sometimes, he
outdid them so. "Why, Tom, where do you
learn your lessons ? You do n't study in school
more than the other boys." " I rise early in
the morning, and study two hours before
breakfast," answered Tom. Ah, that is it !
" The morning hour has gold in its mouth."
There is a little garden near us, which is
the prettiest and most plentiful little spot in all
the neighborhood. The earliest radishes, peas,
strawberries, and tomatoes, grow there. It sup-
plies the family with vegetables, besides some
for the market. If anybody wants flowers,
that garden is sure for the sweetest roses,
pinks, and " all sorts," without number. The
soil, we used to think, was poor and rocky,
besides being exposed to the north wind ; and
the owner is a busy business man all day, yet
he never hires. " How do you make so much
out of your little garden ? " " I give my
mornings to it," answered the owner, " and I
do n't know which is the more benefited by
WHERE THE GOLD IS. 15
my work, my garden or myself." Ah, " the
morning hour has gold in its mouth."
William Down was one of our young con-
verts. He united with the church, and ap-
peared, well ; but I pitied the poor fellow when
I thought of his going back to the ship-yard to
work among a gang of loose associates. Will
he maintain his stand ? I thought. It is so
easy to slip back in religion--easier to go back
two steps than advance one. Ah, well, we
said, we must trust William to his conscience
and his Saviour. Two years passed, and in-
stead of William's losing ground, his piety
grew brighter and stronger. Others fell
away, but not he, and no boy perhaps wa;
placed in more unfavorable circumstances.
Talking with William one evening, I discov-
ered one secret of his steadfastness. " I nev-
er, sir, on any account, let a single morning
pass without secret prayer and the reading of
God's word. If I have a good deal to do, I
rise an hour earlier. I think over my weak
points and try to get God's grace to fortify me
just there." Mark this. Prayer is armor for
the battle of life. If you give up your morn-
ing petitions you will suffer for it; temptation
is before you, and you are not fit to meet it ;
there is a guilty feeling in the soul, and you
keep at a distance from Christ. Be sure the
hour of prayer broken in upon by sleepiness
can never be made up. Make it a principle,
young Christian, to begin the day by watch-
ing unto prayer. " The morning hour has
gold in its mouth ;" aye, and something bet-
ter than gold—heavenly gain.
16 SABBATH READINGS.

Charlie and the Robin's Song.

ONE summer mornnig, early,
When the dew was bright to see, SABBATH READINGS.----No. 6.
Our dark-eyed little Charlie
Stood by his mother's knee.
And he heard a robin singing
In a tree so tall and high ; A Starry Crown.
On the topmost bough 't was swinging,
Away up in the sky. EMILY and:her mother were on their way
" Mamma, the robin's praying, homeward from church. The service had
In the very tree-top there ; been unusually interesting. That grand
' Glory I glory ! ' it is saying, hymn, which has thrilled the hearts of so ma-
And that is all its prayer. rry of Christ's friends with holy joy—
But God will surely hear him,
And the angels standing by, " Stand up, my soul! shake off thy fears,"
For God is very near him, was sung at the close of the sermon. Its mu-
Away up in the sky." sic was still in Emily's ear, and its words
" My child ! God is no nearer were in her young heart.
To robin on the tree,
And does not hear him clearer As she had listened to the lines—
Than he does you and me. " There shall I wear a starry crown,
For he hears the angels harping, And triumph in almighty grace."
In sun-bright glory drest, she had looked around on the congregation,
And the little birdlings chirping,
Down in their leafy nest." and had seen many whom she knew as Chris-
"Mamma, if you should hide me tians wiping away tears which she felt certain
Away down in the dark, were those of joy; and a strange longing
And leave no lamp beside me, came into her heart. to be one of that happy
Would God then have to hark? company whose future was so full of bright
And if I whisper lowly,
All covered in my bed, anticipations.
Do you think that Jesus holy But Emily knew that starry crowns and
Would know what 't was I said ? " glittering robes await conquerors only, and
" My darling little lisper, though she had reached her twelfth year, she
God's light is never dim ; had not yet overcome the enemies of her
The very lowest whisper
Is always close to Him."
heart. Besides, the tempter, who is always
on the watch, was already striving to check
SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION, these better feelings which the Holy Spirit
Battle Creek, Mich. was prompting. And Emily became so pain-
Pelee, pat-paid, $2,00 per 100. Address Elder James Wlalto.
fully interested in the subject on her mind,
2 SABBATH READINGS.
that without intending it, she spoke her
thoughts.
" I shall never wear one—never ! " she said,
sadly.
" What, my daughter? "
She started at her mother's voice, but
opened her heart at once. " A starry crown,
mother. You know what they sung. I'm
afraid I shall never wear one."
Tears filled her mother's eyes as she noticed
that trembling voice, and looked down into
that sweet face, now all anxiety; but she had
prayed as only Christian mothers can, that her
child might be one of the lambs of the Sav-
iour's fold, and she believed that he would
lead her darling into the light.
" What makes you feel so Emily ? "
" Because, mother, I don't see how I can
ever be good enough. You know I often get
angry ; I'm selfish, and I like to have my own
way, and sometimes I fret. Our minister said
that those who overcome,' who are faithful
unto death,' will be with Jesus in heaven, and
have crowns to cast at his feet, and I'm sure
I want to love him and be with him. But,
mother, I can't even for a single day. 0, I
wish I could ! "
" Not alone, my daughter; none of us could
overcome alone. But if, as you say, you real-
ly wish to love Jesus, and be one of those who
are victorious over sin, the way is open.
Your enemies can all be conquered. He will
give you grace. Have you forgotten those
other lines of that hymn—
TOM'S TRIAL.
Thy Jesus nailed them to a cross,
And sung the triumph when he rose ? '
Jesus has gained the victory. He knows
your desires, and he will help you, if you ask
him."
Emily's countenance began to brighten, for
the light was, coming into her heart. " Will
Jesus truly help me now, mother, and can I
begin now to be a Christian ?"
" You have only to believe his word; to be-
lieve that he loves you and has died for you,
and to love and trust him, and ask him to
guide you from this time as long as you live."
" Then, mother, I will begin now to love
Jesus." And that night, in the quiet of her
own little room, Emily told the Saviour all her
hopes and fears, and asked him to help her to
live as his faithful child. Do you not think
Emily will one day wear a starry crown ?
The Saviour has many to bestow. Will one
of them be yours?
Tom's Trial.
IT was a pleasant day in that particularly
pleasant part of summer time, which the boys
call " vacation," when Tiger and Tom walked
slowly down the street together. You may
think it strange that I mention Tiger first but
I assure you Tom would not have been in the
least offended by the preference. Indeed, he
would have assured you that Tiger was a
most wonderful dog, and knew as much as any

4 SABBATH READINGS.
two boys, though this might be called rather
extravagant.
Nearly a year ago, on Tom's birth-day, Ti-
ger arrived as a present from Tom's uncle, and
as he leaped with a dignified bound from the
wagon in which he made his journey, Tom
looked for a moment into his great, wise eyes,
and impulsively threw his arms around his
shaggy neck. Tiger, on his part, was pleased
with Tom's bright face, and most affectionate-
ly licked his smooth cheeks. So the league of
friendship was complete for an hour.
Tom had a pleasant, round face, and you
might live with him a week, and think him
one of the noblest, most generous boys you ev-
er knew. But some day you would probably
discover that he had a most violent temper.
You would be frightened to see his face crim-
son with rage, as he stamped his feet, shook
his little sister, spoke improperly to his moth-
er, and above all, displeased his great Father
in heaven.
Now I am going to tell you of one great
trial on this account, which Tom never forgot
to the end of his life. Tiger and Tom were
walking down the street together, when they
met Dick Casey, a school-fellow of Tom's.
" 0 Dick ! " cried Tom, " I'm going to fa-
ther's grain store a little while. Let's go up
in the loft and play."
Dick had just finished his work in his moth-
er's garden, and was all ready for a little
amusement. So the two went up together,
and enjoyed themselves highly for a long time.
But at last arose one of those trifling disputes,
TOM'S TRIAL. 5
in which little boys are so apt to indulge.
Pretty soon there were angry words, then, (0,
how sorry I am to say it !) Tom's wicked pas-
sions got the mastery of him, and he beat lit-
tle Dick severely. Tiger, who must have been
ashamed of his master, pulled hard at his coat,
and whined piteously, but all in vain. At last
Tom stopped, from mere exhaustion.
" There, now ! " he cried, " which is right,
you or I ?"
" /am," sobbed Dick, " and you tell a lie."
Tom's face blushed crimson, and darting
upon Dick, he gave him a sudden push.
Alas ! he was to near the open door. Dick
screamed, threw up his arms, and in a mo-
ment was gone. Tom's heart stood still, and
an icy chill crept over him from head to foot.
At first he could not stir then—he never
knew how he got there, but he found himself
standing beside his little friend. Some men
were raising him carefully from the hard side-
walk.
" Is he dead? " almost screamed Tom.
" No," replied one, "we hope not. How did
he fall out?"
" He didn't fall," groaned Tom, who never
could be so mean as to tell a lie, "I pushed
him out."
" You pushed him, you wicked boy," cried
a rough voice. " Do you know you ought to
be sent to jail, and if he dies, may be you'll
be hung."
Tom grew as white as Dick, whom he had
followed into the store, and he heard all that
passed as if in a dream.
6 SABEATII READINGS.
Is he badly hurt? " cried some one.
"Only his hands," was the answer. "The
rope saved him, he caught hold of the rope
and slipped down; but his hands are dreadful-
ly torn—he has fainted from pain."
Just then Tom's father came in, and soon
understood the case. The look he gave at his
unhappy son, so full of sorrow, not unmingled
with pity,was too much for Tom, and he stole
out followed by the faithful Tiger. He wan-
dered to the woods, and threw himself upon
the ground. One hour ago he was a happy
boy, and now what a terrible change ! What
has made the difference? Nothing but the
indulgence of this wicked, violent temper.
His mother had often warned him of the fear-
ful consequences. She had told him that lit-
tle boys who would not learn to govern them-
selves, grew up to be very wicked men, and
often became murderers in some moment of
passion. And now, Tom shuddered to think
he was almost a murderer ! Nothing but
God's great mercy in putting that rope in
Dick's way, had saved him from carrying that
load of sorrow and guilt all the rest of his life.
But poor Dick, he might die yet—how pale he
looked—how strange ! Tom fell upon his
knees, and prayed God to " spare Dick's life,"
and from that time forth, with God's help, he
promised that he would strive to conquer this
wicked passion.
Then, as he could no longer bear his terri-
ble suspense, he started for Widow Casey's
cottage. As he appeared at the humble door,
Mrs. Casey angrily ordered him away, saying:
TOM'S TRIAL. 7
" You have made a poor woman trouble
enough for one day." But Dick's feeble voice
entreated, " 0 mother, let him come in I was
just as bad as he."
Tom gave a cry of joy at hearing these wel-
come tones, and sprang hastily in. There sat
poor Dick with his hands bound up, looking
very pale, but Tom thanked God that he was
alive.
" I should like to know how I am to live
now," sighed Mrs. Casey. " Who will weed
the garden, and carry my vegetables to mar-
ket ? I am afraid we shall suffer for bread
before the summer is over," and she put her
apron to her eyes.
" Mrs. Casey," cried Tom, eagerly, " I will
do everything that Dick did. I will sell the
potatoes and beans, and will drive Mr.
Brown's cows to pasture."
Mrs. Casey shook her head incredulously,
but Tom bravely kept his word. For the
next few weeks Tom was at his post bright
and early, and the garden was never kept in
better order. And every morning Tiger and
Tom stood faithfully in the market-place with
their baskets, and never gave up, no matter
how warm the day, till the last vegetable was
sold, and the money placed faithfully in Mrs.
Casey's hand.
Tom's father often passed through the mar-
ket, and gave his little son an encouraging
smile, but he did not offer to help him out of
his difficulty, for he knew if Tom struggled
on alone it would be a lesson he never would
forget. Already
' he was becoming so gentle
8 SABBATH READINGS.
and patient, that every one noticed the change,
and his mother rejoiced over the sweet fruits
of his repentance and self-sacrifice.
After a few weeks the bandages were re-
moved from Dick's hands, but they had been
unskillfully treated. and were drawn up in
very strange shapes. Mrs. Casey could not
conceal her grief. " He will never be the
help he was before," she said to Tom, " he
will never be like other boys, and he wrote such
a fine hand, now he can no more make a letter
than that little chicken in the garden.
" If we only had a great city doctor," said
a neighbor, " he might have been all right.
Even now his fingers might be helped if you
should take him to New York."
" 0, I am too poor, too poor," said she, and
burst into tears.
Tom could not bear it, and again rushed
into the woods to think what could be done,
for he had already given them all his quar-
ter's allowance. All at once a thought flash-
ed into his head, and he started as if he had
been shot. Then he cried in great distress :
" No, no, anything but that, I can't do
that ! "
Tiger gently licked his hands, and watched
him with great concern. Now came a great
struggle. Tom stroked backward and for-
ward, and although he was a proud boy, he
sobbed aloud. Tiger whined, licked his face,
rushed off in dark corners, and barked sav-
agely at some imaginary enemy, and then
came back, and putting his paws on Tom's
knees, wagged his tail in anxious sympathy.
TOM'S TRIAL. 9
At last Tom took his hands from his pale,
tear-stained face, and looking into the dog's
great honest eyes, he cried with a queer shake
in his voice :
" Tiger, old fellow ! dear old dog, could you
ever forgive me if I sold you?"
Then came another burst of sorrow, and
Tom rose hastily, as if afraid to trust himself,
and almost ran out of the woods. Over the
fields he raced, with Tiger close at his heels,
nor rested a moment till he stood at Major
White's door, nearly two miles away.
" Do you still want Tiger, sir ?"
" Why yes," said the old man in great sur-
prise, " but do you want to sell him? '
" es, please," gasped Tom, not daring to
look at his old companion. The exchange
was quickly made, and the ten dollars in
Tom's hand. Tiger was beguiled into a barn,
and the door hastily shut, and Tom was hur-
rying off, when he turned and cried in a cho-
king voice—
" You will be kind to him, Major White,
won't you ? Don't whip him, I never did,
and he's the best dog—"
"No, no, child," said Major White, kindly ;
" I'll treat him like a prince, and if you ever
want to buy him back, you shall have him."
Tom managed to falter " Thank you," and
almost flew out of hearing of Tiger's eager
scratching on the barn door.
I am making my story too long, and can
only tell you in a few words that Tom's sacri-
fice was accepted. A friend took little Dick
to the city free of expense, and Tom's money
10 SABBATH READINGS.
paid for the necessary operation. The poor
crooked fingers were very much improved,
and were soon almost as good as ever. And
the whole village loved Tom for his brave,
self-sacrificing spirit, and the noble atone-
ment he had made for his moment of pas-
sion.
A few days after Dick's return came Tom's
birth-day, but he did not feel in his usual spi-
rits. In spite of his great delight in Dick's
recovery, he had so mourned over the matter,
and had taken Tiger's loss so much to heart,
that he had grown quite pale and thin. So,
as he was permitted to spend the day as he
pleased, he took his book and went to his fa-
vorite haunt in the woods.
"How different from my last birth-day,"
thought Tom. " Then Tiger had just come,
and I was so happy, though I didn't like him
half as well as I do now." Tom sighed heav-
ily ; then added more cheerfully, " Well, I
hope some things are better than they were
last year. I hope I have begun to conquer
myself, and with God's help I shall never
give up trying while I live. Now if I could
only earn money enough to buy back dear old
Tiger."
But while Tom was thinking, and gazing
up into the blue sky through the delicate
green leaves, he heard a hasty familiar trot—
there was a crashing among the bushes, and
with a quick bark of joy Tiger himself, the
brave old dog, sprang into Tom's arms.
" Tiger, old fellow," cried Tom, trying to
look fierce, though he could scarcely keep
A WORD ABOUT ORDER. l.1
down the tears, " how came you to run away,
sir?"
Tiger responded by picking up a letter he
had dropped in his first joy, and laying it in
Tom's hand :
" My DEAR CHILD : Tiger is pining, and I
must give him change of air. I wish him to
have a good master, and knowing that the
best ones are those who have learned to gov-
ern themselves, I send him to you. Will you
take care of him and greatly oblige
Your old friend, MAJOR WHITE."
And then Tom read through a mist of
tears—
" P. S. I know the whole story. Dear lit-
tle friend, 'be not weary in well-doing.' "
A Word about Order.
LITTLE friends, put things right back in
their proper places. Never leave things all
about, helter-skelter, topsy-turvy — never.
When you use any article—hoe, shovel, rake,
pitchfork, axe, hammer, tongs, boots or shoes,
books, slates, pencils, writing apparatus, pins,
thimbles, pin-cushions, needles, work-baskets,
kitchen-furniture, every article of housewifery
or husbandry, no matter what it is—the very
moment you have done using it, return it to
its proper place. Be sure to have a special
place for everything, and everything in its
place. Order, order, perfect order, is the
watchword—heaven's first law. How much
12 SABBATH READINGS.
precious time is saved (aside from vexation)
by observing order—systematic regularity!
And little folks should begin early to preserve
order in everything—form habits of order.
These loose, slip-shod, slatternly habits, are
formed in childhood, and habits once formed
cling for life. Young friends, begin early to
keep things in their proper places. Study
neatness, order, economy, and sobriety.
Irish Jamie.
THE following story was recently related in
a meeting of Sabbath-school teachers. Our
little readers may be assured that every inci-
dent is strictly true.
Among the scholars in a mission Sabbath-
school lately formed in one of our large coun-
try villages, was alittle Irish boy, whose bright,
intelligent face, quickness of mind, and earn-
est attention to the lessons, had awakened
great interest in the mind of his teacher. Af-
ter a few Sabbaths, however, this boy was
missing, and when sought by the visiting com-
mittee during the week, was never to be
found. Sometimes he was seen from a dis-
tance, looking with apparent interest, as the
superintendent or one of the teachers passed
by, but if they attempted to approach him, he
would take to his heels, and spring over walls
and fences with such agility that there was
no hope of overtaking him.
His teacher in the Sabbath-school had been
a young lady belonging to the wealthiest fam-
ily in the village. One cold afternoon in De-
IRISH JAMIE. 13
cember, after Jamie had been absent from his
class more than a month, he made his appear-
ance at the back door of her father's house,
asking to see Miss L.
" No, no," said the cook, " ye needn't be
thinking the young leddy'll come in the wood-
shed to see ye. If ye have any message, ye
can go in the house."
"I don't look nice enough to go in," said
Jamie, glancing ruefully at his torn trowsers
and coarse, muddy boots.
It so happened that Miss L., passing through
the hall, heard and recognized the voice, so
she came to the door to see what was wanted.
Jamie hung down his head in confusion, while
the young lady kindly took his hand in hers,
and asked if he had been well, and why he
had not been to Sabbath-school.
"Me father wouldn't let me come," he sob-
bed out at last; "he bate me because I'd been
to the Protestant place, and then he took me
to a praiste, and he bate me harder yet."
" Poor child !" exclaimed Miss L. " But
does your father know you came here this af-
ternoon ?"
"No, ma'am; but he said I might have ev-
ery half holiday to go skating, if I promised
never to go inside the Sabbath-school again.
So I brought my Testament, and I thought
mebbe you'd teach me here, ma'am."
Was it not a bold request? Did not Jamie
know that with home duties and the claims of
social life, his teacher's time must be fully oc-
cupied ? Might she not think that her serv-
ices on the Sabbath were all that should be
14 SABBATH READINGS.
required of her ? Ah, no ; what were time,
and strength, and fashionable amusements, to
be compared with the value of a precious soul ?
Miss L. could only thank God for so rich a
privilege, and enter with joy upon the work
of instruction.
So every half holiday found Jamie seated
by her side in the beautiful library, reading
and earnestly studying the words of the Mas-
ter, who has said, " Suffer little children to
come unto me."
Skating-time came and went ; the last ice
had melted from the pond, but never once had
Jamie employed his only half holiday in that
favorite amusement. He had found a source
of purer, deeper delight, than even boyish
sports could afford.
But his new resorts would not always re-
main hidden. Jamie's well-worn Testament
once happened to fall from his pocket in the
presence of his parents.
"What's that?" demanded the father fierce-
ly.
" It's my Testament, father," Jamie gently
replied.
" And where did ye get that ? Have ye
been to the Protestant school since I told ye
not ?"
"No, father ; but my teacher gave me this
a great while ago."
"And who is your teacher ?"
"Miss L."
" What, Miss L. ? The one that lives in that
splendid house on the hill ?"
" Yes, father."
IRISH JAMIE. 15
" Well, well, what's in the book ? let's hear
a bit."
Providentially, this was one of the rare oc-
casions when Mr. Ryan was not intoxicated,
and as the boy read passage after passage from
his beloved book, the father's mind opened
with a child-like interest to the truths of the
holy Word. From that day he became a sin-
cere inquirer after the truth as it is in Jesus.
The appetite for strong drink, which had been
the cause of his degradation, was at last
quenched ; for a stronger thirst had taken pos-
session of his soul, even for that purifying
stream of which whosoever drinketh shall nev-
er thirst.
Mr. Ryan, when sober, was an industrious
and intelligent man, and by his renewed ener-
gies his family were soon placed in a position
of comfort and respectability. But that was
the least good effect of Jamie's love of the
truth. Within a few months, both father and
mother had cast off the fetters of priestly re-
straint, and were receiving for themselves with
meekness and earnestness, that precious word
which was able to save their souls.
Had not Jamie made the very best use of
his winter holidays? and was not his teacher
richly rewarded for all her exertions ? How
many of our little readers will study with equal
earnestness the word of truth, which is always
open to them, that they may learn from it the
way of life ? How many Christian teachers
will engage with equal interest in the work of
instruction, in the hope that in so doing they
may save a soul from death ?
16 SABBATH READINGS.

The Irish Boy and the Priest,

AN Irish boy, whose parents to the creed,
Of Protestants and Catholics gave heed,
To mother's church an inclination had,
But father unto mass would force the lad.
Yet still the boy to church on Sabbath stole,
And evidenced a wish to save his soul.
The rector eyed the youth, his zeal approved,
And gave a Bible, which he dearly loved.
This made the enraged father storm and curse,
Lock up the book, and use his son the worse.
With holy water, blessed by men of God,
He bathed him oft—but oft'ner used the rod ;
At length one Sabbath morn it came to pass,
The father dragged the struggling boy to mass ;
The zealous papists helped to force him in,
And begged the priest to pardon all his sin.
" No, by the mass," he said, " I cannot bless,
Nor pardon, till the culprit first confess."
" Well," said the boy, " supposing I were willing,
What is your charge ? " I'll charge you but a shilling."
"Must all men pay, and all men make confession ? "
" Yes, every man of Catholic profession."
"And whom do you confess to ? " " Why the dean."
" And does he charge you?" " Yes, a white thirteen."
" And do your deans confess ? " " Yes, boy, they do
Confess to bishops ; and pay smartly, too."
"Do bishops, sir, confess, pay, and to whom ? "
"Why, they confess and pay the church of Rome."
" Well," quoth the boy, " all this is mighty odd,
But doth the pope confess ? " " 0, yes, to God ;"
" And does God charge the pope ? " " No," quoth the
priest,
He charges nothing." " 0, then, God's the best !
God's able to forgive, and always willing,
To him I shall confess, and save my shilling."

SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION,

Battle Creek, Mich.
price, post-paid. $2,00 per 100. Address Elder James White.
 ffiablitath geatiingo.

TWENTY-FIVE numbers of Sabbath Read-

ings are now ready. The series will, prob-
ably, be continued up as high as one hun-
dred. They are offered in three forms, as
follows :
The twenty-five sixteen-page tracts in
one package for those who wish to scatter
them in their single form among their young
friends. Price, post-paid, 50 cents a package.
The twenty-five tracts are put up in
pamphlets, five numbers in each pamphlet.
Price, post-paid, 56 cents.
The twenty-five numbers bound in one
neat volume, containing in all 408 pages.
Price 60 cents, postage 8 cents.
Address Elder James White,
Battle Creek, Michigan.