Pacific Christian messenger., August 01, 1879, Page 4, Image 4

PACIFIC CHRISTIAN MESSENGER, FRIDAY,
6
Christian Façnily.
The End of It.
Children.
BY M. A. DENISON.
>
*• One hundred and twenty-fire dol­
lars ! What shall I da ? I can’t go
Come to me, O ye children,
to mother, for she hasn't one hundred
For I hear you at your play,.
And the questions that perplexed me
and twenty-five cents at any time. I
Have vanished quite stray.
have no friends. Oh, what a fool I
Ye open the eastern windows,
have been ! -Oh, what a fool !”
That loek toward the sun,
Where thoughts are singing swallows,
The lad Harry McNair, only eight­
And the brooks of morning run.
teen, whose face delighted all who
In your hearts are the birds and the sun­ saw it, sprang from the chair, crushed
shine.
In your thoughts the brooklet’s flow, '
the paper figured from top to bottom
But in mine is the wind of Autumn,
in his strong right hand, and began to
Z nd the first fall of the snow.
walk nervously back and forth.
Ah ! what would the world be to us
“ I was going to do such great
If the children were no more ?
,
We should dread the desert behind ns .
things,—I was going to be such a
Worse than the dark before.
grand man ! Oh, what castles I have
What the leaves are te the forest,
built, and how fondly mother used to
With the light and air for food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
listen to me ! PooT mother! she be­
Have been hardened into wood—
lieves in me yet, and is thinking of
That to the world are children. ;---------------
me to-night—and 1 have allowed my-
Through them it feels thè glow
Of a bright and sunnier climate
self to be led by that devil !”
Than reaches the trunks below.
He drew his breath hard, and lock­
Come to me, O ye children !
ed his teeth to gether.
And whisper in my ear
What the birds and the winds are singing
I was warned, but I would not lis­
In your sunny atmosphere.
ten. Little by little he drew me on,
For what are all our contrivings
and all the time I knew it was wrong
And the wisdom of our books,
When compared with your caresses,
and now I have gambled for money.
And the gladness of your looks ?
He let me win for a time, and then I
Ye are better than all the ballads
lost and lost, until I owe him one
That ever were sung or said,
For ye are the living poems,
hundred and twenty-five dollars, and
And all ths.rest are dead.
he will have it. If I refuse to make
over my salary, he will go to my un­
The Heavenly Railroad Song.
cle, and that will ruin me. And he
says he’ll do it. Oh, how shall I save
The road to heaven by Christ was made,
myself ?"
With Gospel truth the rails were laid,
From earth to heaven the road extends,
He looked over his few possessions
Through life eternal, there it ends.
—a flute, several books, his best suit,
God’s love’s the fire, the truth, ths stream
—they would not sell for twenty dol­
That drives the engine and the beam ;
All you that would to glory ride.
lars in ready money. He thought
Must come to Christ, in him confide.
of writing to his mother; but no,
Repentance is the station then.
it would kill her to think he had
Where passengers are taken in;’.
No fare then is for them to pay, •
deviated from the straight line of hon-
For Christ himself, he is the way.
. or. She was so proud of.him, had
Come, then, poor sinner, now's your time,
I such confidence in his love Xor her!
On any station on the line,’
If you repent and turn from sin,
They had talked together of the se-
The car will stop and take you in.
I ver.e temptations, and he had promis­
The car is ready, soon will go.
ed—what he had not promised ? Be­
Will you go to heaven, or no?
You will draw your wages by the way,
sides, how could she help him ? There
And to the end the best of pay.
was already a mortgage on the old
We have on board a holy band,
house,
which he was to pay, so he had
They're all bound for Canaan's land,
decided, before he was twenty-one.
For Canaan's land appears in view,
Where all'the Baints go dressed anew.
He had been saving money for months
The car runs both night and day.
j
for that object^ but the money was
Nor will it tire bv the way,
all gone— squandered, lost!
Until it lands in heaven above,
Where all the saints shall meet in love.
“ And I am lost!” he groaned, fling­
ing himself down and burying his
So Tired.
face in his hands.
There came a knock at the door-
BY AMY ORXY.
He knew who -was there. His face
I am weary and tired thia morning
flushed
and then turned white. A
With the “ burden of the day,”
I long, like the little children,
tingling sensation ran through his
To lay down my work and play.
nerves. If he had but locked the
But the work ia very pressing,
door,
his enemy might not have found
My heart is so lonely, too ;
him ; but poor Harry was thoughtless
It aches, and aches, as the stitches
Go wearily thro’ and thro’.
in this as in other things, and the
It dees not look like the “bitter part,”
handle turned as he had lifted him­
It looks like unnatural strife—
Just having to “gather the fragments” self up and tried to show a little spirit
”P.
in his face.
And begin anew in life.
“ Moping, are you?” queried a low
1 look at the man and the woman
frank voice. "Never do that; its bad
With plenty of love and heart’s ease!
They never have labored one day as I,
for the health. Come, let’s go down
And yet they have “wine ou the lees.”
to the saloon; there’s to be a match
But do I wish to be like them—
there between Ned Condray and Tom
No battles fought and nona won ?
I would rather bear my own crosses
Walters. I tell you it will be the
Than act as many have done.
snuggest little game of billiards to be
Maybe I am tired and weary,
seen this season, and I bet on the lit­
And our minds with the body agree,
So the darkest sideuf the picture
tle Frenchmen.”
Is the only side I can see.
__
“ I don’t care about going, Hamden.
I will do the work that He gives me,
I
’
ve
got to give up that sort cf thing,
Whether it be heavy or light ;
The darkest cloud may shift after awhile and--------- ”
And show the side that is bright.
A low, soft laugh, with a mocking
—Christian Standard.
devil in it that stung Harry to the
“ I Will Be Good.”
quick, interrupted him.
“ Don’t be spoony, Mac ; don’t play
“ I will be goot}, dear mother,”
the sentimental good boy of the Sun­
I heard a sweet child say :
“I will be good—now watch me ;
day school books; don’t acknowledge
I will be good to-day!”
that you haven’t pluck enough to use
She lifted up her bright young eyes,
With a soft and pleasing smile :
the good things of this world without
Then a mothers kiss was on her lip,
abusing them. You haven’t learned
So pure and free from gnile.
to be a man yet, I see. There’s too
And when night came, that little one,
In kneeling down to pray,
much mother in you--------- ”
Said in a soft and whispering tone,
Harry sprang to his feet with flash­
“Have I been good to-day ?”
ing eyes.
Oh, many, many,bitter tears
'Twould save us, did we say,
"Don’t you. speak of my mother ! he
Like that dear child, with earneat heart,
cried,
clenching both hands. "It is al­
“ I will be good to day I”
most
sacrilege
for me to take her name
Jesus can help us to be good ;
To him we’ll humbly pray ;
on my lips after—after
”
His grace alone can make ns good,
His
lips
quivered,
the
veins
of his
And keep ns good all day.
Help us to bate all evil thoughts,
temples were red and swollen, and
( All sinful words and ways ;
unable to^command himself, he burst
And in th/eervice take delight
Thronglkall our earthly days.
into tears.
—Sei.
His friend, vile as he was, seemed
touched
by this exhibition of sor­
Send us a new subscriber.
•T ». W. LONOrXIXOW.
AUG. 1. W79.
One week after that, in a far-off
row.
" Look hare, Mac,” he said, “I didn t city, a recruiting sergeant was hailed
mean to hurt your feelings, ueither by a youth of refined and melancholy
did I intend any disrespect to—to aspect, who said he wanted to enlist.
No questions was asked.
The
yaur mother. I suppose you are
young
man
eutered,
and
took
his
place
thinking of that money. Don’t let it
trouble you in the least; I can wait a with a dozen roistering, drunken Ger­
month or. two. I’m in funds this man, and Irish recruits, silent, thought
morning,and feel first rate. Come, ful, sunken-eyed, but quiet and digni­
fied.
come, cheer up !” •
*Of course he became more or less
" Thank you, Hamden,” said Harry
the
butt of, the coarser natures by
in a broken voice; “but I don't see
which
he was surrounded. With the
how to pay you if 4 put it off six
same sad aspect he went through the
months, so where’s the use V'
“Well, hang it, don’t talk about it drill, or walked passively to his quar­
now: I'll put you in the way of .get­ ters. Those who noticed him always
ting it You might make it in a night wondered who he was—that delicote,
thoughtful, handsome-faced lfid, He
you know.’’
" Pll not make it by play,” said Har­ talked to no ope, he wrote no letters;
he just moved patiently ffom one du­
ry, sturdily.
“ Perhaps not; but let’s go down to ty to another, till one day, while at
Chillian’s—L wouldn’t xniss that game drill, he fell down in a fainting fit.
He was removed to a hospitable,
for anything, and it’s about time.
Don’t say you can’t go, for you can. and treated for malarial fever; but his
It will put you in spirits,, and if you disease was heart-break. In his sleep
he moaned for his mother. In his
wan’t to bet a trifle, I--------- ”
“ I won’t do it, Hamden; I’m never waking moments his spirit cried for
going to bet again. I’ll go to the sa­ her; but.he said nothing nntil the
loon just for once to please you, but I last. One morning he called the doc­
mean to cut the whole thing. Only tor.
“ Am I dying?” he asked. “Don’t be
once let me get out of debt, and good-
by to all temptation of that kind. afraid to tell me.”
“ You have, I fear, but a little while
You’ll see.”
'.
"Of course we shall,” sneered Ham­ to live,” replied the doctor tender­
den ; but the sneer was carefully con­ ly-
“Oh, I am so homesick!” was the
cealed, though it was followed by a
smile that said as plainly as though it feeble, response, through quivering
lips, already pallid with death. “ If I
was spoken
could only see mother once—only
“ I lead, you follow, young man.’’
Just here was the opportunity that once!”
"Shall I write to her?”
God gave Harry McNair to resist the
“ Never!” was the hollow response.
evil in store for him, but he gave way
“ It is enough that I have broken
to the stronger will of Hamden, a
her
heart. She must never know
young man as wicked and daring as
how
Ldied
—where I died. O mother,
he was handsome and fascinating.
mother
!
”
and
with that cry the ago­
He could not choose at once to break
nized
soul
quitted
its broken tene­
his bonds and fly from the tempter.
He had learned to be passionately, ment.
The poor mother—alas for poor
fond of cards and billiards. It was in
his blood, though he did not know it mothers whose boys are' led astray by
and that was why his mother had al­ evil companions !—-never knew what
ways guarded him so carefully. Close became of Harry, only that tne theft
to the heels of Ned Condray, Harry, was traced to him. For a few years
with his companion,' sprang up the she lingered, mourning, yet hopeful of
stairs leading to the saloon. As he bis return, and then she died with his
did so, his foot touched something that name upon her lips.— Youth’s Com
rolled. He looked down, saw that it panion.
was a pocket Arook, and almost with­
out thought he picked it up and
thrust it in his pocket. Did Condray
lose it ?
" Why he?” cogitated Harry, dozens
of men had been up the stairs. At all
events, he would not say anything,
but wait till he had examined the
contents,—a fatal delay.
fl
All through the trial of the twd con­
testants he was absent-minded, and
left the moment the decision was giv­
en in favor of the little Frenchman.
At home he threw the pocket-book on
the table. Unwillingly he opened it.
It was full of bank-bills of a small
denomination, in all one hundred and
fifty dollars.
No matter about depicting the
struggles that tore Harry’s unhappy
heart—those who have been there
know them. Those who have rot,
God keep them innocent.
Harry fell. ’ His widowed mother,
his honor, were fergotten. Early next
day Hampden was paid, and after all
was settled, he said :—
“So you found Condray’s pocket
book, did you ? Well, I’m mum; I’m
going away South. Much obliged,
but I’m afraid they’ll be down on you.
Steins’s boy was looking out of the
window on the first landing, and he
told Condray he saw you pick it up—
told him not twenty miuutes agn. I
thought I’d come round ; glad I did.
Good morning!” And witji a satanic
chuckle, Hampden left poor, bewilder­
ed, frightened Harry to his own con­
science.
The boy seized his hat. He was
quite calm, but it was the calmness of
despair. He threw the pocket-book
in the fire, reserving the twenty-five
dollars, and then, rushed from the
house down to the river, hailed a
boat and was soon rowed out of
sight.
How To Breath Properly.
Most people breathe properly by
accident or instinct than by design ;
but on the other hand, hundreds of
thousands do not breathe properly,
while many thousands at this moment
are suffering from more or less active
affections of the lungs or throat owing
to a faulty mode of respiration—in
other words because they breathe
through the mouth instead of through
the nostrils. The mouth has its own
functions to perform in connection
with eating drinking and speaking;
and the nostrils have theirs namely,
smell and breathing.
In summer time the error of re­
spiring through the mouth is not so
evident as in the winter season, when
it is undoubtedly fraught with danger
to the person who commits the mis­
take. If any one breaths through the
natural channels of the nostril, the air
passing over the mucous membrane
lining the various chambers of the
nose, becomes warmed to the temper-
ture of the body before reaching the
lungs, but if he takes the air between
the lips, and in the mouth the cold
air comes in contact with the delicate
lining membranes of the throat and
lungs, and gives rise to a local chill,
frequently ending in inflammation.
Many persons, without knowing the
reason why they are benefited, wear
respirators over their mouth in winter
if they happen to go out of doors. By
doing this they diminish the an ount
of air which enters between the lips,
and virtually Compel themselves to
breath through the nostrils. But they
could'attain just the same result by
keeping the lips closed, a habit which
is easily acquired, and conduces to
the proper and natural way of breath­
ing. We believe that if people would
only adopt this simple habit—or in
other words, if they would take for
their rule in breathing, "Shut your
mouth, there would be an intense
diminution of two classes of disease,
nambly that the lungs and throat,
which count many thousand? of vic­
rims in this country in the course of
a single year.— Ex.
How Flint Arrow Heads Were
Made
A young scientist in the Smith­
sonian Institute, named Cushing, has
just made public the discovery of the
method employed in making the
stone and volcanic glass arrow heads,
daggers, knives, axes and razors of
the prehistoric races. Up .to this
time this has been a great problem to
all antiquarian students, but no
theory has ever been advanced show-
ing such practical results asCushipg’s.
He started to solve the difficulty Fy
putting himself in the identical posi­
tion of the Aztec or mound builders—
without anything to work with ex­
cept sticks, varied shaped stones such
as he could find on the banks of any
stream, and his hands.
After making some rude imple­
ments by chipping one flint with
another, he discovered that no amount
of chipping would produce surface
like the best of those he was trying
to imitate. He therefore came to the
conclusion that there was another
way of doing it, and by chance tried
pressure with the point of a stick, in­
stead of chipping by blows of a stone,
when, presto! he found that he could
break stone, flint and obsidian in any
shape he chose. Shortly he had made
spear-heads and daggers that would
cut like a razor, as good as any he
had before him, which had been
picked up from all over the world.
By a little more observation he found
that the “ flaking,” which he calls his
process, on the old arrow head left
grooves that all turned one way. He
produced a like result by turning his
stick the easiest way from right to
He therefore concludes that the pre­
histories were right-handed people
like oursejves. This conclusion is
reinforced by the fact that occasion­
ally an arrow head is found that has
flukes nipping i from left to right,
showing a left-handed person. The
importance of the discovery is that
it shows the prehistories to have been
able to do this thing without the use
of implements.— Cleveland Leader.
Keep Your Troubles Sacred.
A worthy wife of forty years
standing, and whose lif. was not all
made up of sunshine and peace, gives
the following sensible and impressive
advice to a married pair of her ac­
quaintance. The advice is so good,
and so well suited to all married
people; as well as those who intend
entering that state, that we here pub­
lish it for the benefit of such persons:
Preserve sacred the privacies of
your own house, your married Btate,
and your heart. Let no father or
mother, sister or brother or any third
person come in between you two, or
to share the joys and sorrows that be­
long to you two alone. With God’s
help, build your own quiet world, not
allowing your dearest earthly friend
to be the confident of aught that con­
cerns your domestic peace. Let mo­
ments of alienation, if they occur bo
healed at once. Never let the mor­
row’s sun still find you at variance.
Review and renew your vow; it will
do you good, and thereby your souls
will grow together, cemented in that
love which is stronger than death,
and you will become truly one.— Ex. ’
Mother.
The velvet mow may grow upon the
sterile rook—the mistletoe flourish on the
withered branoh—the ivy cling to the
mouldering ruin—the pine and cedar re­
main fresh and fadeless amid thb muta­
tions of the dying year—flowers bloom and
fade on the lonely grave in yonder church­
yard-but, heaven be praised, the memorv
of the kind, patient, gentle, forgiving
®°th«r leaves something green, something
beautiful and grateful to the soul while
in the oold hours of fate, it still winds its
tendrils round the crumbling altars and
broken arohes of the desolate temple of tha
human heart.
•