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then by the thunders of his eloquence won his worldwide reputation. We have only time to notice one more bust, that of Richard Cobden (1865), famous for the repeal of the Corn Laws.

We now enter the north aisle of the choir, the Musicians' Corner. Earliest of these “great tonepainters” is Henry Purcell, the organist of the Abbey, who, as his inscription records, in 1695, “left this life, and is gone to that blessed place where only his harmonies can be excelled.”. His successor, John Blow (1708), is buried opposite, and on his tablet is a canon in four parts. “Challenged by James II. to make an anthem as good as that of the king's Italian composers, Blow by the next Sunday produced 'I beheld, and lo, a great multitude.' The king sent the Jesuit, Father Petre, to acquaint him that he was well pleased with it; 'but,' added Petre, 'I myself think it too long. That,' replied Blow, is the opinion of but one fool, and I heed it not.'

This quarrel was happily cut short by the Revolution in 1688."

A third Abbey organist, William Croft (1727), is close by. In his Latin inscription is recorded his gentleness and fatherly kindness towards his pupils and the fitness of his Hallelujah Chorus to be compared with the music of the heavenly choir, with the text, “ Awake up my glory, awake lute and harp; I myself will awake right early."

The two latest musicians interred here are Sir Sterndale Bennet (1875) and Balfe (1882). Among these is the striking statue, almost a caricature, of William Wilberforce (1833), the great and successful opponent of the Slave Trade, who sits in his stone arm-chair, with his humorous and benevolent face looking exactly as if enjoying a quiet chat with a friend in his own study.

With regard to the monuments Dean Stanley says,

“ We trace here, as in a long procession, the gradual rising of the recumbent effigies : first, to lean their heads on their elbows, then to kneel, then to sit, then to stand on their feet, then to gesticulate, then to ascend out of the tomb, or sea, or ruins, as the case may be. Every stage of sepulchral attitude is visible, from the knight of the thirteenth century, with his legs crossed on his stony couch, to the philanthropist of the nineteenth century, with his legs crossed far otherwise, as he lounges in his easy arm-chair.”

Fleeding of the Multitude.

(St. John vi. 5, &c.)

FREQUENTLY take this story as
my subject when I am preaching to
children, and usually I divide my
sermon into two parts. In the first
part I talk to them about the easy
lessons, in the second part about the
difficult lessons—of the narrative.

Let me speak in the present paper about what I call the

easy lessons; I fear I shall have no time

for the others.

lessons are these. First, a lesson of considerateness. These people were hungry, it is true, but if they had been dismissed without a meal no very terrible results would have followed. No one would have died; no one would have even called in a doctor. All that they would have suffered would have been the inconvenience of walking a long way without any food to sustain them, and the feeling very exhausted when they reached their homes. But Jesus was so kind that He did not wish them to feel even inconvenience, and so He put forth His power and fed them, and sent them home rejoicing. What then does He say to us by this miracle? thoughtful and considerate to others, in little things."

Then there is a lesson of order. The multitude was not allowed to crowd in upon Jesus and His disciples as they liked to get the food, but had to sit down in groups on the grass, with passages between the groups, so that the disciples could easily pass to and fro, distributing the bread. Had this not been done there would have been unseemly confusion and struggling, and great loss of time. So that Jesus seems to me to say to us when He wrought this miracle, “Do things in an orderly manner; have a place for everything and everything in its place.

Next, there is a lesson of economy. When the men had finished their meal, there were many bits of bread and dried fish thrown about in the long soft grass. Jesus bids His disciples gather them up in baskets. Perhaps they were surprised at receiving such an order, for was not Jesus able (they would think) to create food at any moment ? And if so, why should He care for the fragments ? But He did care for the fragments. Bountiful as He was, He would not throw away the good gifts

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POR want of a nail the shoe is lost, for want of a

shoe the horse is lost, for want of a horse the rider is lost.-HERBERT.


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of God, and He says to us, “Waste nothing, but make the best possible use of what God has given you."

Then there is the last lesson, as to the giver of all good gifts. In this crowd there were five thousand men, and when the men were placed in plots, with long passages between them, they would spread out over a considerable space of ground. Jesus was probably in the centre of the crowd, and those at the very end could not, in all probability, see Him. And He did not Himself bring the bread to them. Some one of the disciples did-Peter, or John, or Philip, or Andrew. But the hungry men knew perfectly well that it was not really Peter, or John, or Philip, or Andrew, but that it was Jesus who had given it to them, though He was out of their sight. And what do you think, my dear children? You receive continually many good things. From whom? “ From your father and mother, your aunts and uncles, and other kind friends"

—you say. Yes! But does it not occur to you that after all it is Jesus Who really sends the blessings, and that your kind friends merely pass them on? Well, that is what it really is. Jesus, though you cannot see Him, is the giver of every good gift that you receive and enjoy.

his father, who was very distressed at the loss of his little boys.

But where was Charley? His father and his friends hunted the city over for him. There were advertisements in all the newspapers, and large numbers of policemen did nothing else but look for the lost child. But they could not find him.

At last Mr. Ross got a letter with no name to it, saying that Charley was quite well, and would be returned if his father would pay a large sum of money.

Poor Mr. Ross was almost heart-broken when he thought of his little boy in the hands of such wicked men ; but though he longed to see him safe at home again, he felt it would not be right to pay the money without trying to find out who got it, for then the men would be encouraged to steal other children for the same end. So he went on using all the means he could to find Charley, though other letters that he got from the same person continually told him it was of no use.

He had photographs of Charley sent all over the country, and went to see many little boys who seemed to have lost their parents, but he never heard any tidings of his son.

At last a letter came telling him to start at midnight by an express train, taking with him a bag containing the money required. He was to stand on a platform outside the last carriage, and when he saw a man carrying a torch in one hand and a white

a flag in the other, or if it were light, a bell and a white flag, he was to drop the bag of money on the line, and Charley should be sent home in a few hours. If the train were stopped or any effort made to take the man with the flag, the child was to be killed.

Poor Mr. Ross hurried to the station, caught the train, and took up his position outside the last carriage as directed, only the bag that he held ready to throw out directly the signal was seen did not contain money, but a paper stating that the little boy must be produced before or at the same time as his ransom.

All through the damp chills of night, and then under the burning sun, for the journey was not ended till one o'clock the next day, the anxious father stood at his post, straining his eyes for the white flag, but it never appeared, and he returned home saddened and weary.

Many like efforts were made, but all were equally unsuccessful.

About six months after Charley was stolen, a gentleman was awakened in the night by the sound of robbers in his house. He called up some friends, and they attacked the two burglars. In the scuffle

Charley Ross.

N a pleasant summer even

ing, two little American boys, named Walter and Charley Ross, were playing outside their father's house, when a cart came along the road with two men in it.

Walter was not six and Charley only four years old, and they were both

very pleased when the men gave them some sweetmeats and offered to take them for a drive in the cart. They climbed in with great glee, and drove off.

They went a long way, and the boys got frightened, and begged to be taken home; so one of the men gave Walter some money, and sent him to a shop just round the corner, to buy fireworks for himself and his brother before they returned.

Walter got the fireworks, and came back, but the cart was gone with Charley and the men in it. He began to cry. A little girl in the street tried to comfort him, and a policeman took him home to



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Soliloquy of a Water-Wagtail.

Your Horgotten Sisters.






N the walls that guard my prison,

Swelling with fantastic pride,
Brisk and merry as the season,

I a feathered coxcomb spied :
When the little hopping elf
Gaily thus amused himself.
“Hear your sovereign's proclamation,

All good subjects, young and old :
I'm the lord of the creation;

I-a Water-Wagtail bold !
All around, and all you see,
All the world was made for me!
“Yonder sun, so proudly shining,

Rises—when I leave my nest;
And, behind the hills declining,

Sets—when I retire to rest :
Morn and evening, thus you see,
Day and night, were made for me!
“ Vernal gales to love invite me;

Summer sheds for me her beams;
Autumn's jovial scenes delight me;

Winter paves with ice my streams;
All the year is mine, you see;
Seasons change, like moons, for me!
“On the heads of giant mountains,

Or beneath the shady trees;
By the banks of warbling fountains,

I enjoy myself at ease:
Hills and valleys, thus you see,

Groves and rivers, made for me!
“Boundless are my vast dominions;

I can hop, or swim, or fly;
When I please, my towering pinions

Trace my empire through the sky:
Air and elements, you see,
Heaven and earth, were made for me!
Birds and insects, beasts and fishes,

All their humble distance keep;
Man, subservient to my wishes,

Sows the harvest which I reap :
Mighty man himself, you see,
All that breathe, were made for me!
'Twas for my accommodation,

Nature rose when I was born;
Should I die—the whole creation

Back to nothing would return:
Sun, moon, stars, the world, you see,
Sprung-exist, will fall with me!”
Here the pretty prattler ending,

Spread his wings to soar away;
But a cruel Hawk descending,

Pounced him up—a helpless prey.
Couldst thou not, poor Wagtail, see
That the Hawk was made for thee?



shone bright-
ly in at the
a Chinese
house, as if
to welcome
a little girl
who had just
come into the

poor little Meimei's only

welcome. Everybody seemed disappointed that she was only a girl. The little eyes wandered around to find somebody who would love her. If she could have spoken, her first words would have been “Nobody welcomes me.

Eight hours later the same sun glanced in at a Swedish home to greet little Maria. Here all was joy. Each of the friends of the family brought a gift, a friendly word, and a good wish, for Maria was born in Sweden, in a Christian land.

Day after day the sun shone on both children. The same wind that first caressed Mei-mei's cheeks often came to kiss Maria. Only men set a different value on Mei-mei's and Maria's souls. In God's sight they were both alike.

When the sun came to look in at Mei-mei, it found her always paler, thinner, and more sorrowful. Painfully stumbling on her tightly-squeezed feet, often weeping with pain, without any comfort, Mei-mei's heart lost all its gladness, her eyes lost their brightness, her face its beauty; and the winds, as they hastened to the west, carried the poor child's cry, “Nobody cares for me.”

But when the sun streamed down on Maria's tenth birthday, it found the little girl almost beside herself with joy, for the first thing that met her eyes when she woke was a beautiful Bible, and she ran to embrace her papa and thank him for the best of all gifts. What a happy day! Maria's papa talked to her of Jesus, and she loved to hear him. When the evening came, she sat at her father's side, under the great tree, and listened eagerly as he told her of the poor little children in many lands who knew nothing of Jesus. It seemed to her that the wind in the leaves above her 171


What the Stars Nala Eva.




whispered poor Mei-mei's cry, “So lonely-nobody cares for me.

The new birthday gift added its word, “ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren ye have done it unto Me.

Maria was quite determined that she would go out and do good to

one of the least." Ten years after the sun shines as usual. Times are very hard for Mei-mei—no rain, no food, bad clothing. One day is just like another-hungry, weary, lonely, sorrowful. Without a friend to console, she does not know what comfort is, and has forgotten what it is to be glad.

Maria is growing up, loved and cared for in a happy home, surrounded by dear friends. She often thinks of the resolution she made on her tenth birthday, but there are so many other things to think about, and there is plenty of time, so that Mei-mei must wait a little longer till Maria is ready.

One evening when Maria was returning from a pleasant gathering of friends, she seemed to hear the air filled with voices, as in the old tree ten


years before.

Whistling round the house or rustling among the trees sigh the broken words, “So lonely—so dark-nobody cares for me-hungry-wearydying!” Then she heard something of “a cup of cold water," and something that sounded like • Lovest thou Me?But no doubt it was all fancy, for the wind cannot talk.

Fancy or not, Mei-mei was hungry, weary, dying, and alone. No ray of light, no friendly word, no cup of cold water, no mention of Jesus. Dying in midnight darkness—all alone!

Mei-mei is dead. She never heard of Jesus, for no one told her of His Gospel. When Maria shall one day stand before the throne, will she remember her forgotten sister ? Will there be a pearl found in her crown ? Christian children! many forgotten ones are dead, many are dying, and more are waiting for you to lead them to Jesus. In China are many sad hearts and weeping orphan children. The Chinese have warm hearts, they have souls, which must live in heaven, or be for ever lost.

Come, therefore, and help for His sake who redeemed you and gave you His love. Eternity is real, heaven is real, the loss of the soul is real ! Time flies!

Think of your forgotten sisters ! Help to send them the Gospel. The Saviour calls


Could you bear to hear Him


“ Ye did it not to Me? The harvest truly is ready, but who will gather together the sheaves?

ING-G-G-G! went the

alarum. Eva woke with a start! Three o'clock

October morning, cold, damp and dark; it was not a nice time to get up, even to see a comet. Eva yawned, stretched, and finally jumped out of bed, ran to the window, drew


the blind and looked

out. There was no moon, and the comet and stars were shining clearly. Eva saw the comet over the tree-tops-a bright spot with a tail like a long cluster of stars streaming behind it. Leaning her head on her arms, she said lazily

“ What are you, comet ? Where do you come from? Where will you go when you leave here?

As she ended her question she thought a voice from the comet answered

“Men cannot tell exactly what I am, child, save that my body is of many gases, and that my tail is most probably composed of many millions of meteors—those shooting-stars which you have often seen on a dark night. Also they know that it is very thin, for the star Arcturus was seen shining through it once and the smallest cloud hides its light. You ask where I come from and where I shall go? Well, they call my way of going on 'eccentric,' because the truth is, I don't like going round and round the sun like your world does once a year, so I just shoot down round the sun, take a look at you or Jupiter, or anybody that happens to be near, and then frisk off again right beyond what you call the 'Solar System, and see what other suns are up to. In two years—in 1884–I shall return here, and then disappear for ever. Good-bye for the present; I always travel fast, I like it, and when I get away from our friend the sun, it really gets so dreadfully cold, that I am glad to run to keep up the circulation ; indeed, if I did not keep up a good pace, my tail would come off. That's a fact, but I cannot stop to explain it.”


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