THE summer sun was sinking Behind a silvery cloud, And evening's mantle drawing on, Like nature's sombre shroud. And a dying boy lay watching That summer's sun go down, But he loved to see the sun set "I soon shall go to heaven, mother, Jesus will let me in, Because, you know, He died, mother, To wash away my sin. "And I shall wear a white robe, And sing His praise all day, For Jesus with His loving hand, Will wipe my tears away. "For He will like to hear you pray, "You need not leave your work, mother, "Bring me the little Bible, mother, "You'll read it when I'm gone, mother, And then I think you'll see How great has been the Saviour's love In all He's done for me. "Come nearer to my bed, mother, For my eyes are growing dim, But I can press your hand, mother, And still can talk of Him. "I like to tell you all His love To a poor dying boy, How He came down from heaven above To give me endless joy. “Oh! not for all the world, mother, I would not change this weariness "For, perhaps, if I could run about, "You would not wish to keep me, "It is so hard to part, my child," The weeping mother cried, "For I have only you on earth, I have no one beside. "I shall miss you very sadly, But I know I should not weep, "I would that I could trust Him "O mother! do not say so, But tell to Him your grief; "He is waiting for you now, mother, "To that sweet home above, mother, And wrestle hard in prayer; "But now its growing dark, mother, His mother gently raised him- Thus leaning on her bosom, He breathed his latest sigh, And gently murmured forth the words, "I'm not afraid to die." From "Over There." "LIFT ME HIGHER."-A girl thirteen years old was dying. Lifting her eyes towards the ceiling, she said softly, "Lift me higher, lift me higher." Her parents raised her up with pillows, but she faintly said, "No, not that; but there," again looking earnestly toward heaven, where her happy soul flew a few moments later. JESUS SAID, SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN ΤΟ COME UNTO ME, AND FORBID THEM NOT FOR OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF GOD." M FARLEY COURT. CHAPTER IX. ANXIOUS HOURS. ARTHA was somewhat disappointed on finding that the chapel was only a discarded cutting, so low that no one except the younger boys could stand upright, and with no accommodation for the worshippers save a few loose planks of wood thrown on the rough earth to sit and kneel upon. And she almost shuddered when she put her hand to the low, slaty roof, and thought if that huge mass of rock should give way, how could the miners escape ? Mr. Nichols understood Martha's look of anxiety, and wishing to show her that there was no danger, he took the candle out of the lantern, and making what he called a miner's candlestick, which was simply encasing the candle with clay, he showed her the solidity of the rocky covering. Then he went on to describe their happy meetings, saying: "Here fifteen and sometimes twenty of us meet, although we can only enter one at a time with our backs and heads bent; and here in this rugged place, which looks like a dreary cell, I have found such sweet rest and comfort that I have been ready to exclaim, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.' These are rough planks to sit and kneel upon, but earnest prayers are offered up, and by faith we see a far-off, beautiful land,—a land to which we are going; and although the way to it for us lies through these mines, yet we are only working and praying here in darkness until we are called in the name of Christ to go up and dwell for ever in that land which shall be indeed full of glorious light!" After visiting two or three of the places where the men worked alone, hearing nothing but the sound of their own picks and the distant rumbling of the wagons, the party started on their way out, and very glad were the girls to hear the bang of the wooden doors behind them as they once more emerged into daylight. Martha was very grave and thoughtful as she walked home from her visit to the mine. Indeed, she was wondering at the patience and fortitude with which her father and brothers had borne the change; and thinking how dungeon-like the mine must have seemed to them, after leaving the beautiful fields and hop-gardens of Kent. But oh how pleasant was the thought that she had done what she could to make their home happy and comfortable; and very earnestly she desired that she might be of some use in influencing some of the young, thoughtless wives in the village to be more industrious and careful. Strange indeed it is that the wives of men who earn their money so hardly should expend it on feathers and foolish finery for themselves and their children. It was not long before Martha had an opportunity of making herself useful in teaching economy; for having added to her small stock of shop goods, short lengths of useful calico, her assistance was often sought in the cutting out and making up of garments. One evening Martha was thus engaged, when a lady called to leave a tract. Something in Martha's manner, or in the instructions she was giving to her neighbour, attracted the lady's attention, and after some conversation, the stranger explained that she had been an intimate friend of Miss Farley's, and that she remembered Miss Farley going out on a snowy day to visit Martha, and to attend a mothers' meeting. "Ah," continued Miss Wood, earnestly, "at that time I was living an easy, happy life, my prospects seemed bright and pleasant both for this world and the next. But adversity has since taught me that I was then but an indolent worker for Him who has suffered so much to save us from everlasting misery. And had prosperity still been granted to me, I think I should still have followed Christ afar off; but by bitter trials I have been led to seek rest at the foot of the Cross alone. Since the time of my visit to Farley Court, earthly friends have failed me when I most needed their sympathy, and my brightest earthly hopes have been cut off. Like yourself, Martha, I came to toil in a strange village, but you came with your family, and I came quite alone. At first I was sad and lonely, and often, after the toil of the day or the week, I felt it almost impossible to set about doing good in this neighbourhood; but when I remembered Miss Farley's example of setting aside her own ease and comfort, and of working regularly and diligently in any good work she undertook, I put aside my own sorrows and cares during the little leisure I had, and commenced tract distributing and reading to some old people who had never learned their letters and were too old to begin. I assure you, Martha, the remembrance of that snowy day in Kent has helped to make me more useful here; and feeling that I am made useful, makes me happy and active where at first I felt like an exile in a strange land." It was a great joy to Martha to meet with a friend of Miss Farley's; for ah, she often longed for that kind lady's advice and comforting words. But when this was felt the most keenly she had the happy assurance that Jesus was always near. Anxious hours were, however, at hand; for as the winter approached, the severity of Martha's cough increased, and there was much anxiety with the little shop, although it was doing good to Martha and her family, and also to the village. One chilly December day, Martha had stood by a long table which served as a counter, weighing soap to be ready for her customers, but feeling weak and poorly, she laid down on the sofa by the fire. And Lizzie, her youngest sister, went to clean the doorstep, when Martha heard the well-remembered tones of her cousin Willie's voice; for he was at the door and asking to see her. Sailor-like, he told her in a merry, genial mood, how he had come at the first opportunity, and that he could not wait to send her word, he was so impatient to see her. When the excitement of seeing this unexpected and faithfullyloved cousin faded away from Martha's cheek, William Brown saw how pale and sickly she really was. A look of disappointment passed over his face, and with his usual outspokenness, he said, "Well, Martha, you don't look half jolly enough for a sailor-boy like me. Upon my word I think you'll never brave a splash in the salt-water. You used to be a weakly thing, but the last time I saw you, you were getting on first-rate. You've been shutting yourself up and working far too hard, till you're just a shadow. When you're my wife, you shan't do it; now just see if I'm not master about that!" Martha smiled at Willie's generous impulse; for it is always pleasing, even in a trifling thing, to see any one forgetting self in thinking of another. But the smile was scarcely one of pleasure; for as her thoughts wandered to future years, in imagination she saw Willie by the side of some healthy, merry girl; and herself— ah, that was a hard question! Was she to be sickly still?-ay, and perhaps lonely too. Was her father, whose strength was failing fast, to die; and her brothers and sisters to marry; and would she have to struggle alone then? And a harder question was this:-Would Willie, for whom she would have sacrificed so much (save in matters of conscience), cease to regret her, and would he love that other one more dearly than he had ever loved her? Very gently did Martha try to make Willie understand that it was probable she would never be strong, and therefore she must not think of marrying. Other words, too, she often strove to speak, but Willie was ardent and impatient, and she could not bring herself to utter words which to him would seem so unkind, although they were nearest to her heart. When Martha was alone she thought often about the command of, "marrying only in the Lord." And she longed to explain to Willie that even if she were strong there was still an obstacle to their union. Martha had never turned away from a duty since she entered upon her Christian course, but now she felt tempted to do so. Willie was about to go, and they would not meet again for a long time-it might be never: ought she to spoil the happiness of their last hours together by speaking of all that was in her heart?— an inward voice whispered that she ought not to hide the real state of her feelings. Fearing lest the presence of her cousin might unnerve her, Martha went to her own little room, and there on the window |