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which leads on to perfect glory. That is the truest worship which mostfully represents the heavenly state and best prepares us for it. The exercises of the heavenly temple shall be equally freed from ignorance and sin. The unclouded intelligence shall be the counterpart of the unsullied purity when
“ Sin, my worst enemy before,
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more." Then
“ Shall I see and hear and know
All I desired or wished below,
In that eternal world of joy."
THE ROBIN THAT SAVED JANE FOSTER.
A WINTER'S TALE.
I MEAN to say that the man or earth, and how He loves and cherishes woman who can deny that the robin, | them now, looking down upon them which saved Jane Foster from perish from his far, high home. ing in the snow last winter, was com It was a very cold morning, and missioned by Heaven, is not a whit they had eaten little on the previous better than a pagan. I hold fast to day; and for many days past the that; if I didn't, I should be a pagan cloth had been spread upon the cotmyself. I don't -and I wish this to | tage table for potatoes alone. Fuel be distinctly understood-I don't be- they possessed, the windfalls of the lieve all that is told about it. For woods, gleaned before the severe instance, when the neighbours assert weather set in; but only one crust of that the robin changed its shape bread on that cold morning, and no after leading her to the cottage door, money to purchase any, while, alack, and that she saw an angel spread his alack! the baker refused further wings and rise from the ground, and credit, having three shillings and that she watched him in dumb awe fourpence already scored against till he disappeared in the thick them. So Jano, pretending that the vapoury atmosphere, or was hidden crust was larger than it really was, by the bending snow that came and that she had satisfied her appefeathering down-I don't believe tite, soaked it in some warm milk that. Neither do I much credit the for her grandmother, and carried it tale which her old grandmother re- to the old woman's bedside. peats—with an air, it is true, of great 1 « Grandma,” said the child, “I veracity-how that, sitting by her want to go to Rookfield to-day.” fireside at the time Jane must have "To Rookfield !” exclaimed the been crossing the moor, and fretting old woman. “Is the girl mad, to herself lest the child should lose her think of going to Rookfield this way in the snow-storm, she heard weather ? songs floating in the air which no “But, grandma, what are we to earthly voice could have sung do? We have no bread, and no sweet, holy songs, about the love potatoes.” which the Divine Friend bore to * “Is it to get bread and potatoes wards little children while He was on you would trudge sixteen miles afoot
i on a lone common, with snow-drifts “You shall go to Rookfield. God
higher than the hedges ? No, no, will protect my darling. Fetch me į Jane, stay at home, and "
that box, and give me the key from " And starve, grandma ?”
my pocket.” “Why should we starye? Isn't « Yes, grandma. Oh, how good there a God above us all ?"
you are to let me go!" “ Yes, grandma.”
“Not to beg, my child; you shan't “ And do not we say our prayers beg yet. I've something left in this morn and night? Why, then, should box that will keep the wolf from the you go to Rookfield po'
door a little longer; and who knows " Because, dear grandma, God but what—but there,” added the old helps those only who help themselves. woman, checking herself, and speakIf we wait both at home, bread won't ing below her breath, “best to say fall into our laps. I must go out nothing of him. Poor Richard, we and seek it."
shall see you no more till we meet in “And how will you seek bread ?" Heaven !". “I will beg, grandma.”
She drew forth a ring from a box
| -a gold wedding-ring, which, if we “ Yes; I will tell the gentlefolks, may judge from the interest with as they pass by, that I have a grand- which she surveyed it, she prized mother at home who is very old and highly. The girl had hastily attired ailing, and that we have no food to | herself in shawl and bonnet, both eat. Oh, they are very generous, greatly the worse for wear, as the are the rich people, for they are saying is, and offering but slight Christians, you know, grandma ; and protection from the severity of the does not Scripturo say, 'He that season. giveth to the poor lendeth to the "Take that to the pawn-shop in Lord””?
Rookfield, and ask them to lend you “My poor, poor child ! my poor ten shillings upon it. Mind you Jane !
don't lose it, and see that you bring The girl was very simple-50 the ticket and money safe home," simple, indeed, as to imagine that said the old woman, placing the ring, she had but to utter, in sincere and carefully wrapped in paper, in the appealing tones, a true and moving | girl's hand. tale, to gain compassion, and, what Cheerily, cheerily Jane departed was of more consequence to her, 1 on her mission, blithe as the summer relief. The old woman, though lark, light and agile as the skipping simple enough in her way, was wiser fawn, shaking her glossy curls as she on that point than her grand-ran, her cheeks glowing with the exdaughter. She had seen a little of ercise. She sang like a delighted the world, and knew that the Chris bird, pouring forth rich notes, aïl the tianity of the rich is too often, like richer for that they were wild, and the working man's best garment, lucked the culture that would have worn only on Sundays.
fitied them for the ear of refinement. “My poor Jane, do you suppose Onward and onward. Eight miles that the gentlefolks will listen to were accomplished. She was at
Rookfield. “Yes, grandma; why not? I shall She entered the pawnbroker's shop tell them that you are old and hun boldly, for she was not ashamed of
honest poverty, and felt, perhaps, « Does it snow now, Jenny bird ?" | like many others who have sought,
“No, grandma; it is quite fine, under temporary need, the same and I shan't feel the cold, I walk so accommodation, that it is better to fast, you know."
borrow money of a tradesman (not a
usurer) in the way of business, than | sence. And, in the act of increasing to ask a loan from a friend. The her pace, she felt for her money, shopman, after many questions, and which, folded in paper, she had thrust much impertinence (for he saw the in her bosom, to assure herself that girl was poor, and, in his own opinion, it was safe. Alas, alas, it was gone ! he was an individual of great im The ticket was also gone! portance himself), consented to take They were gone! With ashy face the ring, but would lend only half and palpitating heart, she felt and the sum demanded.
felt again. They were gone! Over“ Five shillings; and if you don't powered by her misfortune, she sat redeem it, I shall lose by it," said down upon a door-step, and wept in the man, with as much apparent agony. sincerity as if he spoke the truth. She must beg now; and it was with
“Well, then, five shillings,” sighed a heavy heart she stood where the laJane.
dies passed home from the market, The ticket was made out; the and looked in their faces with eager, money was paid; and Jane left the hungry eyes. It began to snow just shop. It was a great disappointment at this time. Timid and ashamed, to have got only five shillings for the she watched an opportunity to make ring; it would not last long, husband her first appeal. But every one was it as best they might. She was in such haste to get home, now that strongly tempted to beg. Would her the snow was falling, that her suppligrandmother be angry? It was cating attitude, and pale attenuated market-day at Rookfield, and there face, were scarcely noticed, or gained were many well-dressed people walk only a cold, unsympathising stare. ing in the streets, ladies with smiling, Ah, it was sad for the poor girl to see happy faces, some of them leading so many fellow-christians, not one of by the hands little girls, younger whom was disposed to lend to their than herself, who were snugly wrap Maker an unstateable fraction of the ped up in furs and pelisses. Then, wealth He had bestowed upon them ! these ladies were buying at the shops It is true that she had not yet petinot mere necessaries, but luxuries tioned with her tongue, but her eyes, and dainties; toys for their children, her cheeks, her pinched limbs, and ornaments for their houses, fruits bare attire, what eloquent tongues and preserves for family enjoyment. | they had! How impressive their
"Ah!” thought Jane, those oratory! But it was a week-day, ladies, who have so much money to and charity was a theme for Sunspend, will not refuse to help me. I days! Once in seven days the rich won't show them the five shillings folks of Rookfield condescended to but no-no;" and she hastily cor call the poor their brethren! rected herself: “I have five shillings, Faster fell the snow. The girl's and that, as grandma says, will keep bonnet and shawl were white as the the wolf from the door. There are roofs of the houses. She shivered, poor folks here who, perhaps, have and her teeth chattered. The marnot a penny; let them get alms from row of her bones was chilled. She those who are disposed to give. If had addressed five or six individuals, I were to beg, I should only wrong none of whom deigned a reply, or resuch as have neither money nor cognised her existence by so much as
a shake of the head, or other mute Thoughts akin to these passed rejection of her suit. “Only a penny rapidly through the girl's mind, and | —'tis for my grandmother ; I have she determined to return home with | lost five shillings, and we have noout delay, lest her grandmother | thing to eat at home.” Faster fell should grow uneasy at her long ab- | the snow, and those who were thus
entreated walked faster on their skin by the penetrating snow, and way.
chilled almost beyond the power of “He that giveth to the poor lend- her slight, enfeebled frame to bear. eth to the Lord. Inasmuch as ye did At every step she took her strength it not to one of the least of these my grew less and less. The snow fell brethren, ye did it not to me.” Holy | now so fast and thick, that objects words, accredited by those who turned at a trifling distance were obscured, a deaf ear to the petition of the and her little feet sank deeper every shivering beggar girl!
instant. Upwards of two hours did Jane Oh, to die upon that lonely moor, stand exposed to the thickly falling how horrible! To sit frantically snow, and suffering the severest pri down, and—as she remembered to vation from the combined effects of have heard it told that people so had cold and hunger. And during all perished-to heap the snow wildly that time she got angry and even ! around her, and build herself a frightabusive words, deprecating looks, ful tomb therewith! Were such to but not one penny-not one.
be her end, through the long hours And now the day was so far ad of that bitter winter's night, how vanced that the night would soon | would her old grandmother rave in close in. It still snowed fast-fast. | mad despair, and call vainly upon The cold was extreme. As she hurried Heaven to aid her darling child ! along the pavement she caught fre Thicker and faster,-thicker and quent sights of rousing fires in grates, faster yet. No sky, no horizon, no and happy people warming themselves object on which to rest the eye, but thereby. The cold was in her limbs all one waste of snow, that made the and in her heart. She must hasten eye-balls ache to look upon. Faster home, lest her poor grandmother and faster yet, and feebler grew her should die with fright because of her steps. A dizziness came over her; a long absence. Yet once more she strange sensation spread around her would beg; yet once more, for her heart. She could not hold out much aged relation's sake, she would beg. longer! She felt herself sinking !
A sailor, rather an uncommon per Yet one more struggle for her young sonage in Rookfield, approached. She | life! raised her hands in supplication, her! A chirp, as of a bird, sounded in pale face streaming with tears; and her ear. It was close beside her her supplicating attitude attracted -a robin-a winter robin. the worthy tar's attention. She told The moor was, in summer, partiher story; and the humane seaman cularly barren, even for a moor. drew from his pocket a leathern There was not a tree for a bird to purse, and placed five shillings in her perch upon, only a few shrubs, and hand, saying that he gave it to her for they were now hidden by the snow. the sake of his mother, who was also Chirp, chirp! an old woman, and whom he was It was only a simple robin; but hurrying to meet, after a long, long | God alone knows how greatly its preabsence-if she were still alive-if sence cheered our little maiden, batshe were still alive. He should have tling against the storm on that shela child too, he said, but he thought terless and dreary moor. What she was dead, he didn't know. trifling circumstances infuse new life
Oh, joy,-oh, lighted-hearted joy ! | into the desponding breast! The Heaping uncounted blessings upon Scotch warrior gleaned new vigour the head of the generous son of Nep- from watching the efforts of a spider. tune, our happy Jane set her face Mungo Park, when resigned to die homeward in good earnest. She was in the African desert, beheld a tiny on the moor now, but soaked to the weed lifting its obscure head to the heaven that encloseth all the world, ) cended that night from that lonely and felt that God, who planted that roof to the throne of God! humble vegetation there, and did not The next morning there came a withdraw from it his sustaining hand, knock at the cottage door; and, when but sent the breeze to fan it, and the Jane opened it, who should present rain to water it, would succour the himself but the sailor who had given child of his own likeness also; and her five shillings on the previous from that consoling thought there afternoon! He started with surprise grow such energy, that his limbs re at seeing Jane, and inquired whether ceived new strength thereby, and he | Dame Foster lived there. When Jane prosecuted his path anew, and arrived replied that she did, the seaman gave safely at the village he had despaired a cry for joy. to reach. And this little robin-this “That's Richard's voice,"exclaimed humble robin, dearly beloved by the the old woman from within. “I tale and fable, and homely rhyme of know it is. God be praised ! He the musio of its speech, of its chirp, has sent me back my son." chirp, chirp--was begetting such re “My mother-my dear mother!” solution in the heart of the sinking cried the sailor, rushing into the child, that there was no longer a ques cottage. tion of her drooping and dying, but We pass the scene which followed. a certainty that she should behold “And so this is my Jane-my own her grandmother again, and live, child ? " said the seaman, presently please God, to bless Him in after taking her in his lap, and kissing years for preserving her amidst the her for full five minutes without dangers of that afternoon.
drawing breath. The robin became her guide. Not “Yes, that is poor dead Mary's that she could have missed her way, child," said the grandmother. "It but, the trodden path being hidden was her mother's wedding-ring that by the snow, one direction, so that | she pawned yesterday.” she did not wander far from the con The old woman, the neighbours, jectured track, was as good as another. Jane herself, ail assert that it was And the robin went right onward; not a robin, but an angel from the hopping now-now flying, and ever skies, that led her over the moor that strengthening her resolution. And afternoon. Who shall dare laugh she found herself, ere long, at the at their belief ? For are not the redoor of her grandmother's cottage, solves which, nobly taken, enable us and then she saw the robin no more. to battle successfully with the storms
She related her story to her grand of life, and conduct us safely HOME, mother, while warming herself at the angels, and guardian angels, too? fire which blazed on the hearth. And, So here's God speed the Winter Rooh, what fervout thanksgiving as- / bin on often repeated missions !
REMARKABLE INCIDENTS FROM LONDON LIFE.
BY THE REV. G. W. M'OREX.
I.-THE DEAD HUSBAND. London is full of mysteries. Strange people abound in it, and tragedies of a painful and startling character often come suddenly to light. The isolation of thousands of Londoners favours the consummation of dismal