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Title:TheChildren'sTabernacleOrHand-WorkandHeart-Work

Author:A.L.O.E.

ReleaseDate:August7,2015[EBook#49643]

Language:English

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THECHILDREN’STABERNACLE

ORHAND-WORKANDHEART-

WORK.

A.L.O.E.BOOKS.

Uniform—75centseach.

ClaremontTales.AdoptedSon.YoungPilgrim.Giant-Killer,andSequel.Flora;or,Self-Deception.TheNeedleandtheRat.EddieEllerslie,etc.PreceptsandPractice.ChristianMirror.IdolsoftheHeart.

PrideandhisPrisoners.ShepherdofBethlehem.ThePoacher.TheChief’sDaughter.LostJewel.StoriesontheParables.NedManton.WarandPeace.RescuedfromEgypt.TriumphoverMidian.Robber’sCave.CrownofSuccess.TheRebelReclaimed.TheSilverCasket.ChristianConquests.TryAgain.CortleyHall.GoodforEvil.Christian’sPanoply.ExilesinBabylon.GilesOldham.NutshellofKnowledge.SundayChaplet.HolidayChaplet.Children’sTreasury.TheLakeoftheWoods.SheerOff.

OntheWay.HouseBeautiful.JohnCarey.ABraidofCords.GuyDalesford.CyrilAshley.Claudia.LadyofProvence.Children’sTabernacle.

FRONTISPIECE.Children’sTabernacle.

THE

CHILDREN’STABERNACLE

OR

HAND-WORKANDHEART-WORK.

BYA.L.O.E.

AUTHORESSOF“THELOSTJEWEL,”“THEGIANT-KILLER,”“THEYOUNGPILGRIM,”ETC.,ETC.

NEW-YORK:ROBERTCARTER&BROTHERS,

530BROADWAY.1875.

PREFACE.

WHILE I was engaged in writing the following briefwork, again and again the question arose in my mind,“Can I make subjects so deep and difficult reallyinterestingandintelligible to theyoung?Theimportanceof reading Old Testament types in the light thrown onthem by the Gospel cannot, indeed, be overrated,especially in these perilous times; but can a child betaughtthustoreadthem?”

The attempt thus to teach is made in the followingpages;andIwouldearnestlyrequestparentsandteachersnot merely to place the little volume in the hands ofchildrenasaprettily-illustratedstory-book,buttoreaditwith them, prepared to answer questions and to solvedifficulties. Sunday books should supplement, not takethe place of, oral instruction.Awritermay give earnestthought and labor to the endeavor to make religioussubjects interesting to theyoung;butwhat influencehasthesilentpagecomparedwiththatofafatherexpressinghisownsettledconvictions,or thatofamotherwhohasthepowertospeakatoncetotheheadandtheheart?

A.L.O.E.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

I. WANTINGWORK 9II. THETABERNACLE 27III. THECURTAINS 37IV. PRECIOUSTHINGS 49V. PREPARATION 59VI. TYPES 76VII. DRAWNASIDE 89VIII. SACRIFICES 102IX. CONCEALMENT 113X. DEADFAITHANDLIVINGFAITH 121XI. LEPROSY 136XII. NAAMAN 149XIII. THETWINS 158XIV. WORK 173XV. DIFFERENTMOTIVES 186XVI. THEHIGH-PRIEST 201XVII. THEBIRTHDAYGIFTS 215XVIII. THEARRIVAL 225XIX. DISAPPOINTMENT 239

XX. CONFESSION 250XXI. CONCLUSION 260

SHORTSTORIES,BYTHESAMEAUTHOR.THEBEAR 271THETIGER-CUB 281NOTONETOOMANY 292THEIRONRING 303THEILLWIND 313

THECHILDREN’STABERNACLE.

I.WantingWork.

“YOU have no right to spoil my desk, you tiresome,mischievousboy!”

“I’venot spoilt it,Agnes; I’veonlyornamented it bycarvingthatlittlepatternallround.”

“I don’t call that carving, nor ornamenting neither!”cried Agnes, in an angry voice; “you’ve nicked it allroundwithyourknife,you’ve spoiltmynice littledesk,andI’ll”—WhatthreatAgnesmighthaveaddedremainsunknown,forhersentencewasbrokenbyaviolentfitofcoughing,whoopafterwhoop—afitpartlybroughtonbyherpassion.

“What is all this, my children?” askedMrs. Temple,drawninto theroomcalled thestudyby thenoiseof thequarrelbetweenhersonandhereldestdaughter.

Lucius, a boy more than twelve years of age, andtherefore a great deal too old to havemade so foolish ause of his knife, stood with a vexed expression on hisface,lookingathispoorsister,who,intheviolenceofher

distressing cough, had to grasp the table to keep herselffrom falling; Amy, her kind younger sister had run tosupporther;whileDoraandlittleElsie,whohadboththesamecomplaint,thoughinamilderformthantheirsister,coughedwithherinchorus.

Mrs. Temple’s care was first directed to helping herpoorsickdaughter.Agnes,aswellasherthreesisters,hadcaught the whooping-cough from their brother Lucius,who had brought it from school. It was severalminutesbefore the roomwas quiet enough for conversation; butwhenAgnes,flushedandtrembling,withhereyesredandtearfulfromcoughing,hadsunkonanarm-chairrelievedforatime,Mrs.Templewasabletoturnherattentiontowhathadbeenthecauseofdispute.Arosewooddesklayonthetable,androundtheupperedgeofthisdeskLuciushadcarvedalittlepatternwiththelargesharpknifewhichheheldinhishand.

“I am sure, mamma, that I did not mean to domischief,” said Lucius, “nor to vex Agnes neither. Ithoughtthatacarveddeskwouldbeprettier thanaplainone,andso”—

“Youmighthavetriedthecarvingonyourowndesk,”said Agnes, faintly. The tears were rolling down hercheeks,andshedarednotraisehervoicelestsheshouldbringonthewhoopingagain.

“So Imight, blockhead that I am; I never thought ofthat!” exclaimed Lucius. “But if you like we willexchangedesksnow,andthenallwillberight.Mineisabiggerdeskthanyours,andhasnotmanyink-stainsuponit.”

TheproposalsetDora,Amy,andElsielaughing,andasmileroseeventothelipsofAgnes.ShesawthatLuciuswasanxioustomakeupforhisfolly;butthebigschool-desk would have been a poor exchange for her own,which was neat and had red velvet lining; while hers,being scarcely larger thanawork-box,wouldhavebeenoflittleservicetoLuciusatschool.

“O no! I’ll keepmy own desk; the carving does notlooksoverybad,afterall,”murmuredAgnes,whohadanaffectionateheart,thoughbynomeansaperfecttemper.

“Itooknoendofpainswithit,”saidLucius,“andmyknifeissosharpthat”—

“I would rather that you did not try its edge on mytable,” cried his mother, barely in time to save hermahoganyfrombeing“ornamented”aswellasthedesk.

“Stupid that I am! I was not thinking of what I wasabout!” exclaimed Lucius, shutting up the knife with asharpclick;“butthetruthisI’msohorriblysickofhaving

nothingtodothatImustsetaboutsomething.Idon’tlikereading,I’veenoughandtoomuchofthatatschool;youwon’tletmegoout,lestthedampshouldbringbackmycoughingandwhooping—I’vehadenoughandtoomuchof thatalso; I’veonly thegirls toplaywith, fornoneofmyownfriendsmustcomenearthehousebecauseofthistiresome infection; and I shall be taking to cutting myownfingersoffsomedayforwantofsomethingbettertodo!”

“It’sacaseofidlenessbeingthemotherofmischief,”cried the bright-eyedDora,whowas busy embroideringwithmany-coloredsilksanapronforlittleElsie’sdoll.

“Idlenessisindeedveryoftenthemotherofmischief,”observedMrs.Temple.“Iamafraidthatmyyoungpeopleoftenprovethetruthoftheproverb.”

“Perhapsitwaspartlyidlenessthatmadethechildrenof Israel do so very very wrong when they werewanderingabout in thedesert,”observedAmy,glancingup from a book on the subject which she had beenreading.

“Ah! they were shut up in a wilderness month aftermonth, year after year,” cried Lucius, “after they hadcomeforthfromEgyptwiththeirflocksandherdsandallkindsofspoil.Theyhad little todo, Isuppose,andmay

havegrownjustastiredofthesamenessoftheirlivesasIhaveofthedulnessofmine.”

“I have often thought,” observed Mrs. Temple, whohad seated herself at the table and taken up her knitting—“IhaveoftenthoughthowtenderlytheLorddealtwithhis people in providing for them pleasant, interestingoccupationwhenHebadethemmaketheTabernacle,andcondescended to give them minute directions how itshouldbemade.Therewerethevariousemploymentsofcarving, ornamenting, working in metal, to engage theattention of the men; while the women had spinning,weaving, sewing, and embroidering, with the delightfulassurance that theofferingof their gold and silver, theirtimeandtheirtoil,wasmadetotheLordandacceptedbyHim.”

“I never before thought of the making of theTabernacle being a pleasure to the Israelites,” observedAgnes. “I always wondered at so many chapters in theBible being filled with descriptions of curtains, silverloops,andgoldornaments,whichareofnointerestatalltousnow.”

“My child, it is our ignorancewhichmakes us thinkany part of the Bible of no interest,” observed Mrs.Temple. “If you remember the readinesswithwhich, asweknow, the Israelitesbrought theirprecious things for

theTabernacle,and ifyoucanrealize theeagerpleasurewith which, after the long idleness which had ended ingrievous sin,menandwomenset towork,youwill feelthattheordertomakeabeautifulplaceforworshipmusthavebeen theopeningof a springof newdelight to thechildren of Israel. They had the Lord’s own pattern toworkfrom,sotherewasnoroomfordisputesaboutformor style; and it was a pattern admirably suited to givepleasant employment to numbers of people, and towomen as well as to men. Fancy how listless languormust have been suddenly changed to animation; themurmurs of discontented idlers to the hum of cheerfulworkers;andhowvanityand foolishgossipamongst thegirlsmusthavebeencheckedwhile theytracedout theirrich patterns and plied their needles; and instead ofdecking their own persons, gave their gold and jewelsfreelytoGod!”

THETABERNACLEASPITCHEDINTHEWILDERNESS.

Children’sTabernacle. p.18.

“I wish that we’d a Tabernacle to make here,”exclaimedLucius,whoserestlessfingersagainopenedhisdangerousplaything.

Mrs. Temple raised her hand to her brow: a thoughthad just occurred to her mind. “We might possiblymanage to make a model of the Tabernacle,” she said,afteramoment’sreflection.

“Ah, yes! I’d do all the carving part—all the hardpart,”criedLucius,eagerly.

“Do,doletusmakeamodel!”exclaimedhissisters.

“Itwouldbea longwork—adifficultwork; Iamnotsurewhetherwecouldsucceedinaccomplishingit,”saidMrs.Temple.“Andafterallour labor, ifwedidmanagetomakeafairmodel,towhatusecouldweputit?Wehadbetter consider all these matters before we begin whatmustbeatediousandmightproveanunprofitablework.”

“Ah, amodelwould be of great use,mamma!” criedDora.“AtChristmas-time,whenthistiresomeinfectionisover,andwegotoourauntatChester,wecouldshowittoallherfriends.”

“And to her school children—her Ragged-schoolchildren!” interruptedLuciuswithanimation.“We’ve letthemseeourmagic-lanternforthreeChristmasesrunning,and if the children are not tired of the slides of lions,bears, and peacocks, I’m sure that I am; besides, Ismashedhalf theslidesbyaccident lastwinter.AmodeloftheTabernaclewouldbesomethingquitenewtopleasethe ragged scholars, andAunt Theodorawould draw somanygoodlessonsfromit.”

“And could we not do with the model what we didwith the magic-lantern,” suggested Dora, “make of it alittleexhibition,lettingaunt’sfriendscomeandseeitforsixpennytickets,andsocollecta littlemoneytohelpontheRagged-school?”

“Thatwouldbesonice!”criedAmy.

“That would be famous!” exclaimed little blue-eyedElsie,clappingherhands.

“Let’s set to work thisminute!” said Lucius, and herappedthetablewithhisknife.

Dora threw thedoll’s apron intoherwork-box, eagerto have some employment more worthy of the cleverfingersofayoungladyofmorethanelevenyearsofage.

Mrs.Templesmiledattheimpetuosityofherchildren.“I must repeat, let us consider first,” she observed.“Possibly not one amongst you has any idea of theamount of labor and patience required to complete amodeloftheTabernaclewhichwasmadebythechildrenofIsrael.”

“Of course our Tabernacle would be much smallerthantherealonewas,”remarkedDora.

“Supposingthatwemadeitonthescaleofoneinchtotwocubits,Iwonderwhatitslengthwouldbe?”saidMrs.Temple.“JustbringmetheBible.Lucius,IwillturnovertothedescriptionoftheTabernacle,whichwewillfindintheBookofExodus.”

“Idonotknowwhatacubit is,”saidElsie,whileher

brotherranfortheBible.

“Don’tyou rememberwhatmamma tolduswhenwewerereadingaboutthesizeoftheArk?”saidAgnes.“Acubit is the lengthofaman’sarmfromtheelbowtotheend of his middle-finger, just about half of one of ouryards.”

“Eighteeninches,or,assomethinktwenty,”observedMrs.Temple,assheopened theBiblewhichLuciushadjustplacedonthetablebeforeher.

“Let’s count a cubit as exactlyhalf ayard,mamma,”said Lucius, “and then one inch’s length in the modelwouldgoforayard’slengthintherealTabernacle.Ifwereckonthus,howlongwouldourmodelneedtobe?”

“The outer court of the Tabernaclewas one hundredcubitslongbyfiftybroad,”repliedMrs.Temple;“that,insuchamodelasweproposemaking,wouldbealengthoffourfeetandtwoinches,byabreadthoftwofeetandoneinch.”

“Just large enough to stand comfortably on this sidetable!”criedLucius.“Therewillberoomenoughonthistable,andI’llclearitofthebooks,work-box,andflower-jarinatwinkling.”

“Stop a minute, my boy!” laughed his mother, as

Lucius appeared to be on the point of sweepingeverythingoff,includingthegreenclothcover;“wehavenotevendecidedonwhether thismodelshouldbemadeatall;andifwedobeginone,monthsmaypassbeforeweshallneedthattableonwhichtosetitup.”

“O, do, do let us make a model!” again the youngTemplescriedout.

“I’mreadytoundertakeeverybitofthewood-work,”addedLucius, impatient to use his sharp knife on betterworkthanthatofspoilingadesk.

“Firsthearwhatyouwillhavetoundertake,”saidhismore cautious and practical mother. “The mere outercourthassixtypillars.”

“Sixtypillars!”re-echoedthefive.

“Besides fourmore pillars for the Tabernacle itself,”continuedthelady,“andforty-eightboardsofwood,tobecoveredalloverwithgold.”

“How large would each board have to be?” askedLucius,moregravely.

“Each five inches long, and three quarters of an inchbroad,”answeredhismother.

“Andquitethin,Isuppose,”saidtheyoungcarpenter,

looking thoughtfullyat thebladeofhisknifewhichwastoaccomplishsuchalong,difficultpieceofwork.

“We could get gold-leaf for the gilding, mamma,”suggestedtheintelligentDora,“andpasteboardinsteadofwood;pasteboardwouldlookquiteasneat,andneednottobecutupintoboards.”

“Oh,it’snotthegilding,northecuttinguptheplanksneither,whethertheybemadeofpasteboardorwood,thatpuzzles me!” cried her brother; “but think of sixty-fourpillars! How on earth could I cut out so many slenderlittlerodswithmyknife!”

“Thickwiremightbeusedforthepillarsjustaswellaspasteboard for the planks,” said Agnes; “when coveredwithgold-leaftheywouldlookjustthesameasif”—Thesentence was interrupted by another fit of coughing; itwas clear that poor Agneswas at present little fitted tojoinintheconversation.

II.TheTabernacle.

“THERE is a picture of the Tabernacle in your Bible,mamma;thatwillhelpusinarrangingwhatistobedone;and you will decide on which of us should do eachportionofthework,”saidDora.

Mrs.Templeturnedovertheleavestillshecametothepicture.

“Here you see a long open court,” she observed,“enclosed by pillars supporting curtains of fine linen,fastened to them by loops of silver. I shall supply thelinenfor thesecurtains,andI thinkthatmygentleAmy,who sews so nicely, may make them. This work willrequireonlyneatnessandpatience,andmylittledovehasboth.”

“Ah,mamma!butthesilverloops—howcouldImakethem?” suggested Amy, who had very little self-confidence.

“I have a reel of silver thread up-stairs in my box,”said her mother; “you will make the tiny loops for the

curtainsofthat.”

“And I will manage the sixty-four pillars!” criedLucius;“itwasnobadnotiontomakethemofwire.Butthey must be fixed into something hard, to keep themuprightintheirplaces.”

“I was thinking of that,” said his mother; “we shallneedawoodenframe,rathermorethanfourfeetbytwo,to support themodel; and into this frame holesmust bedrilledtoreceivethesixty-fourwires.”

“I must borrow the carpenter’s tools,” observedLucius;“Ican’tdoallthatwithmyknife.IseethatIhavealong,difficultjobbeforeme.”

“Do you give it up?” cried little Elsie, looking uparchlyintothefaceofherbrother.

“Not I!” said the schoolboyproudly. “Theharder thework,themoregloriousissuccess!”

“What are those objects in the court of theTabernacle?” asked Amy, who had been thoughtfullyexaminingthepicture.

“Thatlargesquareobjectwithgratingonthetop,fromwhichsmokeisrising,istheAltarofburnt-offering,”saidthe lady. “Through the grating the ashes of animals that

hadbeenslainassacrifices fell intoacavitybelow.Theprojectionswhich you see at the four corners are calledthehornsofthealtar,ofwhichyoureadinvariouspartsoftheBible.”

THEALTAROFBURNTOFFERING.Children’sTabernacle p.30.

“WasitnotanAltarofburnt-offeringthatElijahmadeonMount Carmel,” askedDora, “when he cut the deadbullockinpiecesandprayedtotheLordtillfirewassentdownfromheaven?”

“Yes,” answered her mother, “but that altar was notlike theone in thepicture.Elijahbuilthisupquickly; itwasmerely formedof twelve stones.The altarmadebythe Israelites in the desert was framed of wood, andcoveredwith brass. It was nearly eight feet square, andwasreached,notbysteps,butbyaslopingbankofearth.”

“And what is that very large vase farther on in thepicture?”askedAmy.

“ThatismeantfortheBrazenLaver,toholdwaterfortheprieststowashin.Thislaverwasmadeofbrasswhichthe women of Israel offered. Do any of my girlsremember what articles had been made before of thatbrass?”

Thepartyweresilentforafewseconds,andthenAmysaid, with a blush on her cheek, “The mirrors of thewomen,mamma.”The littlegirlwas inclined tobevainofherlooks,andhermother,whohadnoticedhowmuchofherAmy’stimewasfoolishlyspentbeforeaglass,haddrawn her attention, some days before that of which Iwrite,toafactwhichhasbeenthoughtworthyofmention

in theBible.Thewomenof Israel had the self-denial togive up the brazen mirrors—which were to them whatglassmirrors,aretous—toformalaverfortheuseofthepriestswhenengagedintheserviceofGod.

Mrs.Templesmiledpleasantlytoseethattheexampleofthewomeninthedeserthadnotbeenforgottenbyherchild.

“Isnotthatkindoflargetentwhichisstandinginthecourt,theTabernacleitself?”inquiredDora.

“ItistheTabernacle,”wasthereply.

“Whyisallthatsmokecomingoutofit?”askedlittleElsie.

“That smoke in the picture represents the pillar ofcloud which guided the Israelites in their wanderings,”saidMrs.Temple.“ForitiswritteninthebookofExodus(xl.38),‘ThecloudoftheLordwasupontheTabernaclebyday,andfirewasuponitbynight,inthesightofallthehouseofIsrael,throughoutalltheirjourneys.’”

“What a very holy place that Tabernacle must havebeen!”saidAmy,inalowtoneofvoice.

“Therewasnotonlythepillarofcloudasavisiblesignof God’s presence resting upon it,” observed Mrs.

Temple, “but when Moses had finished making theTabernacle, a miraculous light, called by the Jews,‘Shekinah,’ and, in the Bible, ‘the glory of the Lord,’filledthemostholyplace.”

“I wish that it were so with holy places now!”exclaimedAgnes.“Ifacloudalways restedon the roofsofourchurches,andagloriouslightshoneinside,peoplewouldnotbesocarelessaboutreligionastheyarenow.”

“Ifear thatnooutwardsignofGod’spresencewouldlongpreventcarelessnessandsin,”repliedMrs.Temple.

“What,mamma,notevenashiningglory inchurch!”criedAmy.

“Remember,my child, all thewonders and terrors ofMountSinai—thethundersandlightnings,thesmokethatrose like the smoke of a furnace, the trembling of theearth,and thesoundof the trumpetexceeding loud!TheIsraelites quaked with fear; they felt how awful is thepresenceofGod;theyimploredthattheLordmightonlyaddress them through Moses—‘But let not God speakwithuslestwedie!’criedtheterrifiedpeople.Andyet,insightofthatveryMountSinai,insightofthethickcloudresting above it, those Israelites openly broke God’scommandments, and fell into grievous sin! Oh, mybelovedchildren, theonly thing to saveus fromsinning

greatlyagainstGodisforourhearts tobe the tabernacleinwhichHe vouchsafes to dwell, and to have his HolySpirit shining as thebright lightwithin!CananyoneofyourepeatthatmostbeautifulversefromIsaiah(lvii.15),which shows us that the Lord deigns to dwell with thelowlyinheart?”

Of all Mrs. Temple’s family, Agnes had the bestmemory;thoughshehadneitherthequickintelligenceofher twin-sister Dora, nor so much of the love of herHeavenlyMasterwhichmadeAmy,thoughyoungerthanherself,moreadvancedinreligiousknowledge.Dorahadoftenadmiredtheversementionedbyhermother,andtothehumble-mindedlittleAmyithadbroughtafeelingofthankfuljoy;butitwasAgneswhoremembereditbestbyheart,soastobeablenowtorepeatitwithoutmakingasingle mistake. “Thus saith the high and lofty One thatinhabiteth eternity; I dwell in the high and holy place,with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, torevivethespiritofthehumble,andtorevivetheheartofthecontriteones.”

III.TheCurtains.

“THEgirlswillhaveplentytodoinmakingthecurtainsfor the Tabernacle itself,” observed Lucius, who, whilehis mother and sisters had been conversing, had beenengaged in looking over the description in the book ofExodus. “Why, there are four distinct sets of curtains!First, the undermost, ten curtains of fine-twined linen,with blue, and purple, and scarlet, and cherubims ofcunning—thatmustmeanskilful—workuponthem!”

“Howsplendidthatmustbe!”exclaimedElsie.

“Then a covering of goats’-hair curtains above thesefine embroidered ones,” continued Lucius; “then a thirdoframs’-skinsdyedred;andthen,tocompletethewhole,acoveringofbadgers’-skincurtainstheoutermostofall.”

Thefouryoungworkwomenweresomewhatstartledatthedifficultieswhich theirbrother’swordshad raised intheir minds. Dora gave a voice to the thoughts of hersisterswhenshesaid,witha lookofdisappointment,“Itwill be hard to get rams’-skins dyed red, but I do not

knowwheregoats’-haircanbeboughtinEngland;andasfor the badgers’-skins, I am afraid that it will be quiteimpossibleevenformammatofindsuchathing,unlessitbeintheBritishMuseum.”

“So we must give up making the Tabernacle,” saidAmy,withasigh.

“Nay,nay,”cried their smilingmother, “wemustnotbe so readily discouraged. Learned men tell us that theHebrewwordtranslatedinto‘badgers’-skins’inourBibleisoneofuncertainmeaning,whichsomethinkdenotesabluecolor,andwhich,ifintendedforaskinatall,isnotlikelytohavebeenthatofabadger.Bluemerinofortheouter covering, red Turkey-cloth instead of rams’-skins,andmohaircurtainsinsteadofgoats’-hair,willdo,Ithink,forourmodel; aswell as thepasteboard,wire, andgoldandsilverthread,whichmustrepresentmetalandwood.”

“Yes,”saidLucius,quickly,“theywilldoagreatdealbetter than the realmaterials; for ifwecouldmanage togetrams’-skinsorbadgers’-skinstocutup,suchcurtainswould be a great deal too thick and heavy for a littlemodellikeours.Why,ourTabernaclewillbeonlyfifteenincheslongbyfiveinchesinbreadth.”

All thegrave little facesbrightenedupwithsmilesatthis way of getting over what had seemed a very great

difficulty.Elsielookedespeciallypleased.Pressingclosetohermother,andlayingherlittlehandonMrs.Temple’sarminacoaxingway,shecried,“Oh,mamma,don’tyouthinkthatIcouldmakeonesetofthecurtains?YouknowthatIcanhemandrunaseam,anddon’tmakeverylargestitches.Might I not try, dearmamma? I should like tohelptomaketheTabernacle.”

It would have been difficult to the mother to haveresistedthatpleadingyoungface,evenhadElsiemadealess reasonable request. “I cannot see why these littlefingers should not manage the red Turkey-cloth whichwill stand for the rams’-skins,” replied Mrs. Temple,strokingthehandofherchild;“theoutermostcoveringofall will, of course, need finer stitching, and one of thetwinswilltakethatandthemohairbesides.Tomakeboththese setsof curtainswill take far less time, and requirelessskill, thanmustbegivento theembroideryonlinenin blue, scarlet, and purple, which will adorn the innerwallsandceilingsofourlittlemodel.”

“Do,doletmehavetheembroidery,itisjusttheworkwhich I delight in,” cried Dora; and she might haveadded, “excel in,” for she was remarkably clever inmakingthingsrequiringfancyandskill.

Agnes,hertwin,flushedveryred,notmerelyfromthestraining of the cough which had frequently distressed

her, but from jealous emotion. Agnes had not a lowlyheart, and in her heart angry feelingswere rising at hersister’saskingthatthefinestandmostornamentalportionoftheworkshouldbegiventoher.

“Ofcoursemammawillnotletyouhavethebeautifulembroidery to do,Dora, and leave the plainmohair andmerino to me, her eldest daughter!” exclaimed Agnes,laying a proud stress on the word eldest, though, therewas but an hour’s difference between the ages of thetwins.

“Why, Agnes, what nonsense that is!” cried Lucius,bluntly; “you know, as well as I do, that your clumsyfingerscan’tsomuchashemasilkhandkerchiefneatly,and how would they manage embroidery in purple,scarlet, andblue?Yourbadworkwould spoil thewholething.”

“Don’t you meddle; you don’t know anything aboutwork!” exclaimed Agnes, in a loud, angry tone, whichbroughtonanotherseverefitofcoughingandwhooping.

Mrs. Templewas grieved at the ill-temper shown byhereldestdaughter,andall themoresoasAgneswasinsosufferingastateastomakeitdifficultforamothertoreproveherasshewouldhavedonehad thegirlbeen inhealth. The lady had to wait for some time before the

cough was quieted enough for her gentle voice to beheard, thoughAmyhadquicklybroughtaglassofwatertohelpinstoppingthatcough.WhenAgnescouldbreathefreelyagain,themotherthusaddressedherfamilycircle:—

“I should be vexed indeed, my children, if what Iproposedasapleasantandprofitableoccupationforyouall, should become a cause of strife, an occasion forfoolishprideandcontention.TheTabernaclewasinitselfa holy thing, made so by the special appointment andpresence of the Lord. I would wish the making of itsmodeltobeakindofholyemployment,onenevertobemarredbyjealousyandpride.Theprofitsofyourlabor,ifthere be any, you mean to devote to helping the poor;therefore I hope that we may consider the work as anofferingtotheLord—averysmalloffering,itistrue,butstillonewhichHemaydeigntoaccept,ifitbemadeinalowly, lovingspirit;but ifselfish,worldlyfeelingscreepin, then good works themselves become evil. TheIsraeliteswereexpresslyforbiddentoofferanycreatureinwhichtherewasablemishorfault,andourofferingsarecertainly blemished and spoilt if we mix with themjealousyandpride.”

Agnes bit her lip and knitted her brow. Shewas notwithoutbothgoodsenseandgoodfeeling,butshehadnot

yetobtainedthemasteryoverherjealoustemper.

“IdonotseewhyDorashouldbefavoredaboveme,”shemurmured.

“Dora is not favored above you,” replied themother,gravely. “The simple state of the case is this—differenttalents are given to different persons. You have a goodmemory,Doraaskilfulhand.Weretheworkinquestionto be the repeating of a chapter by heart, Dora wouldneverexpecttobetheonechosentorepeatit.Whyshouldpridemakeyourefuse toownthat therearesomethingsinwhichayoungersistermayexcelyou?”

Agneshesitated,andglancedathermother.Thegirl’sbrowwas a little clouded still, and yet therewere signsthatherpridewasgivingway.

“I leave the decision to your own good sense andfeeling, my love,” said Mrs. Temple. “Judge yourselfwhether, if your desire be to make a really beautifulmodelworthyofthegoodobjecttowhichwedevoteit,itwould be better to place the embroidery part in Dora’shandsoryourown.”

“LetDora do it,” saidAgnes,with a little effort, hereyes fillingwith tears, for itwas hard to her, as it is tomostofus,towrestledownstrugglingpride.

Mrs.Templesmiledkindlyuponherdaughter.“Oneofthemost precious lessonswhichwe can learn,” said themother,“is,inobediencetothecommandofourLord,tobewillingtobelastofall,andservantofall.Thesacrificeofourprideandself-will ismorepleasing toourMakerthan themost costly gifts can be. It isworthy of noticethat itwasnot theoutercoveringof theTabernacle, thatpartwhichwould be seen fromevery quarter of Israel’scamp,thatwasmostbeauteousandprecious.Therichestcurtainswerethoseseenfarlessoften,thosethathadthelowestplaceinthebuilding.SoourMakercaresfarmoreforwhatiswithinthanforwhatiswithout,andthereisnoornamentsofair inHiseyesas thatofameekandquietspirit.”

IV.PreciousThings.

“I DO not think that the Tabernacle was a grandbuilding, after all,”observedLucius, “though there is somuchwrittenaboutitintheBible.Why,itwasonlyaboutforty-fivefeetbyfifteen—notsolargeasthechapelattheendofthetown,andnotforonemomenttobecomparedto the grand cathedral which we all went to see lastsummer.”

“Thereisonethingwhichyouperhapsoverlook,”saidhis mother; “when the Tabernacle was raised, theIsraeliteswere a nation of wanderers, and had no fixedhabitation.TheirTabernaclewasalarge,magnificenttent,made to be carried about from place to place by theLevites. Every portion of it was so contrived as to bereadilytakentopieces,andthenputtogetheragain.Thiscould not have been donewith a building of very greatsize.”

“Nobodycouldcarryaboutthegreatcathedral,oreventhelittlechapel!”criedElsie;“buttheywerenevermeanttobemoved,theyarefixedquitefirmintheground.”

“The size of the Tabernacle was indeed not great,”continuedMrs.Temple;“but,besidesitsbeingfilledwithaglorywhichisneverbeheldnowinanybuildingraisedbyman,thetreasureslavishedonitmusthavegiventoitaverysplendidappearance.IthasbeencalculatedthatthegoldandsilverusedinmakingtheTabernaclemustalonehaveamountedinvaluetotheenormoussumof185,000pounds!”

Exclamations of surprise were uttered, and Doraremarked—“Why, that would be enough to pay for thebuildingofforty largechurchesashandsomeas thenewonewhichwealladmiresomuch.”

“Andthenewchurchholds ten timesasmanypeopleastheTabernaclecould,”observedAgnes.“Icannotthinkhowa largenation like the Israelitescould findspace tomeet in such a small place, only about twice the sizeofthisroom!”

“The Tabernacle was never intended to be to theIsraeliteswhatachurchistous,”remarkedMrs.Temple.“InthewarmclimateofArabiathepeopleworshipped intheopenair,underthebluecanopyofthesky;nobuildingto shelter them was required, such as is needful inEngland.ThemenofIsraelbroughttheirsacrificestothecourtoftheTabernacle,where,asyoualreadyknow,theAltarofburnt-offeringandtheLaverwereplaced.”

THEGOLDENCANDLESTICK.

Children’sTabernacle. p.52.

“But,mamma,whatwasinsidetheTabernacleitself—whatwassoverycarefullykeptunder those foursetsofcurtains?”askedDora.

“The Tabernacle was divided into two rooms by amost magnificent curtain of rich embroidery called the‘Veil,’” replied Mrs. Temple. “The outer room, whichwasdoublethesizeoftheinner,wasnamedthe‘Holy,’or‘Sanctuary.’ In this outer room were kept the splendidgolden Candlestick with its seven branches, eachsupportingalampwhichburnedallthroughthenight,andthe Table of Showbread, on which twelve cakes ofunleavenedbreadwereconstantlykept—thesupplybeingchangedoneverySabbath.”

“Ah! I remember, it was that show-breadwhichwasgiven to David when he was hungry,” said Lucius,“thoughitwasmeanttobeeatenonlybypriests.”

“What other things were in the outer part of theTabernacle?”askedAgnes.

“TherewastheAltarofIncense,mylove,uponwhichsweet perfume was daily burned, so that the room wasfilledwithfragrance.”

“Youhavetoldus,mamma,whatwasinthefirstpart

of the beautiful Tabernacle; but what was in the veryinnermost part, the little room beyond the Veil?” askedAmy.

“Thatlittleroom,aboutfifteenfeetsquare,wascalledthe ‘Holy of Holies,’ and contained the most preciousobject of all—the special symbol of the presence of theMost High. That object was the Ark, with its cover ofpure gold which was called the ‘Mercy-seat,’ and onwhich were figures of cherubim, wrought also in gold,with wings outstretched. Over this Mercy-seat, andbetween the golden cherubim rested thewondrous glorywhich showed that God was with his people. David,doubtless,referredtothiswhenhewroteintheeighteenthPsalm, ‘Thou thatdwellestbetween thecherubims,shineforth!’”

“And were not precious things laid up in the Ark?”inquiredAgnes. “Were not the tables of stone onwhichtheCommandmentswerewrittenputintoit?”

“AndthePotofManna,kepttoremindthepeoplehowtheirfatherswerefedinthedesert?”saidDora.

“And the wonderful rod of Aaron, that budded, andblossomed,andborefruit;wasnotthatalsointheArk?”askedLucius.

“AllthesemostpreciousandholythingswerelaidupintheArk(orassomethinkinfrontoftheArk),beneaththegoldencherubim,”repliedMrs.Temple.

“Oh,Ishouldhavelikedaboveallthingstohaveseenthem!”exclaimedlittleElsie.“Ishouldhavelikedtohaveliftedup thesplendidcurtain-veil,and tohavegone intotheHolyofholies—ifthelighthadnotbeentoodazzlingbright—andhave lookedupon all those precious things!Mostof all, I’dhave liked to see thatwonderfulRodofAaron,ifitwastheveryverysamerodthathadoncebeenturnedintoaserpent.”

THEHOLYPLACEANDTHEMOSTHOLYPLACE.Children’sTabernacle. p.56.

“Ah,my child, noneof uswouldhavedared to haveliftedthatVeilortohaveplacedafootwithintheHolyofholies!” exclaimed Mrs. Temple. “No mortal was eversufferedtoenterthatplace,mostsacredofall,excepttheHighPriest,andthatbutononedayoftheyear—theDayofAtonement.Aaronhimself, the firstHighPriest,withtremblingawemusthaveliftedtheVeil,andapproachedthe Mercy-seat over which the cherubims spread theirwingsofgold!”

Mrs. Temple spoke in so solemn a tone that thechildrenfeltthatthesubjectwasverysacred,andnoneofthem spoke for severalmoments. ThenLucius observed—“Thereisnownoplaceonearthintowhichnoonedareenter,liketheHolyofholiesintheTabernacleofold.”

“No,myson,becausetheVeilhasbeenrentintwain,and theLordChrist,ourgreatHighPriest,hasopenedafree way for all believers, even into the Holy of holieswhereGoddwells inglory for ever!” saidMrs.Temple,with evengreater reverence in hermanner, and claspingherhandsasshespoke.

“Mamma,Icannotunderstandyou!”criedAmy.

“Theseare thedeepthingsofGod,mylove,andit is

very difficult to explain their meaning to children. TheTabernacleand the thingswithin itwere types,oraswemaycallthem,picturesofheavenlymysteries,revealedtousby theGospel.Butwewillnotenternowupon thesedifficultsubjects.I thinkthatyouknowalittleabouttheappearanceoftheTabernacleofwhichyouareanxioustomakeamodel,andalsoofwhatwascontainedwithinit.Tounderstand themeaningof thatholyplace,andof itscontents,willrequiremuchearnestthoughtandattention.We may perhaps converse a little about it to-morrow,whichisSunday.Youwillhaveabundanceoftime,asthefearofgivinginfectiontoothersobligesmetokeepyoufromgoingtochurch.”

V.Preparation.

“I WISH that to-morrow were any day but Sunday!”exclaimedLucius.“Justwhenoneissettingaboutalongwork,eagertomeasureandtomake,tocutandtoclip,itisvexatioustohavetostopinthemiddleofbusiness, toshoveawayknife,ruler,pencil,pasteboard,andall,intoadrawerforthenexttwenty-fourhours!”

“PerhapsitwouldbebetternottobegintheworkatalluntilMonday,”mildlysuggestedhismother.

“O no, we’ve all the Saturday afternoon, let’s set tomakingourmodelatonce!”exclaimedLucius.

“Please,please,don’tmakeusputoff!”criedDoraandElsie.

Mrs. Temple was a very indulgent mother, and wasinclinedtobeallthemoresoaseveryoneofherchildrenwas either suffering from whooping-cough or justrecoveringfromitseffects.Theirmotherfeltsorryatthenecessity for shuttingout her family frommanyof theirusual occupations and pleasures, and even from the

privilegeofgoingtochurch.Theladydidnot, therefore,intheleastpressthesubjectofdelay,butoffered,assoonas early dinner should be over, to go and search in herdrawersandboxes for suchmaterialsasshemight thinksuitable for the model of the Tabernacle, which herchildrenweresoeagertomake.Thedinner-bellsoundedwhile Mrs. Temple was speaking, and the family wenttogether to the room inwhich they took all theirmeals,and gathered round the table which was spread with aplentiful,thoughplainrepast.

While the young Temples are engaged with theirdinner,letmeintroducethemalittlemoreindividuallytomyreader.There,atthebottomofthetable,isLucius,asunburnt, pleasant-looking schoolboy, with a mass ofbrown,half-curly locksbrushedback fromhis forehead.Hehasquick eyes and restlesshands,which are seldomperfectlystill,eveniftheyhavenobetteroccupationthanthatof tyinganduntyingamorselofstring;but theyarenowbusilyplyinga largeknifeandfork, forLucius isaskilful carver, and the joint of mutton is placed beforehim,fromwhichtohelpalltheparty.

Thepalegirl seatedon the rightofLucius,witheyesweakandreddenedbytheeffectofhercough, isAgnes,theelderofthetwins.Herbrowisfurrowed,perhapsfromthe samecause, perhapsbecause she ismore irritable in

temper than her brother and sisters. But Agnes is aconscientiousgirl,onewhothinksmuchofduty:andwemayhopethat“prayerandpains,”whichithasbeenwellsaidcandoanything,willgiveherthemasteryoverfaultsagainstwhichsheistryingtostruggle.

OppositetoAgnessitsDora,who,thoughhertwin,isnotmuch likeher, being agooddeal taller, prettier, andmoreanimated thanshe.Dora isamuchgreater favoritewith Lucius and the younger girls than the elder twin,frombeing gay, obliging, and clever.Agnes is perfectlyaware that such is the case, and has to pray and striveagainst the sin of jealousy, which is too ready to creepintoherheartandpoisonallherenjoyments.

On either side of Mrs. Temple are her two youngerdaughters,Amy and Elsie. The former,with soft browneyes and long flaxen hair tied with blue ribbons, isstrikingly likehermother,whohas,at least so thinkherchildren, the sweetest face in theworld.Amyhas neverbeen known to quarrel or utter an angry word, and isalwaysreadytogivehelptoanyonewhoneedsit.Itisnowonder that sogentleagirl isbeloved.ButAmyknowsherself tobebynomeans faultless, and ismuch,onherguardagainst the sillyvanitywhichamother’swatchfuleye has foundout to be lurking in themindof her dearlittlegirl.

Elsie is a merry blue-eyed child, full of life andintelligence,forward—rathertooforwardforherage.Shehasforsixyearsheldtheplaceofbabyinthehomeofherwidowed mother, and her family are rather disposed toindulge her as if she were a baby still. She enters withanimationintotheamusementsoftheelderchildren,andis by no means disposed to be seen and not heard, asLucius often laughingly tells her that such little peopleshouldbe.

Theconversationduringdinnerwasalmostentirelyonthe subject of the model, and flowed on pleasantlyenough,exceptwheninterruptedbycoughing;butallthechildren were glad whenmeal-time was over, and theirmother,withAmyandElsieskippingbeforeher,wentofftohuntoverherlittlestoresforsuchmaterialsasmightbefounduseful.Luciusemployed the timeof theirabsencein exploring the lumber-room for tops of old boxes orotherbitsofwoodthatmight,whenfastenedtogether,dofortheground-frameofthemodel,intowhichthegildedpillarsmightbefixed.Dora,withpencilandpaper,busiedherself in trying to make an embroidery pattern,introducingthefiguresofcherubim.Agnes,whowastooweakformuchexertion,andwhotooklesskeeninterestintheworkthandidhersisters,layonthesofareadingabook, until the return ofAmy and Elsie, each ofwhomcarriedsomelittletreasureinherhands.

“Look,Agnes, lookat theseshiningreelsofgoldandsilver thread!” exclaimed the youngest child with eagerdelight.

“Goldthread—ah!that’sjustwhatIwant!”criedDora,throwingdownherpencil.

“And here is mamma’s book of gold leaf; there is alittle gold sheet between every one of the pages,”continuedElsie. “But oh! it is so thin, so very thin, onedarenotbreathenear,orthegoldwouldallflyaway!”

“Ithoughtthatgoldwasaveryheavymetal,”observedAgnes,lookingupfromherbook.

“Butitisbeatenoutintosuchextremefinenessthatabitofgoldnolargerthanapeawouldgildallthese,”saidLucius,whohadjustenteredtheroomwithhisarmsfullofpiecesofwood.

“See, Agnes, what we have brought for you!” criedAmy. “Here is a beautiful piece of blue merino for theouter curtains (the badgers’-skin cover, you know), andbluesilkwithwhichtosewit;andhereisanotherpieceofmohair for the goats’-skin cover, so you are supplieddirectlywitheverythingthatyouneed;isnotthatnice?”

Agnes did not look so much delighted as her sisterexpected that she would; perhaps because she was

scarcely well enough to take much pleasure in sewing;perhaps because she had still a lingering feeling ofmortification at not having been trusted with theembroiderypartofthework.

“Ihopethatyouhavebroughtmethefinelinenforthebeautiful inner curtains, and the veil for the Holy ofholies,”criedDora.

“No,mammacannotfindanylinenfineenough,unlesssheweretotearupherhandkerchiefs,andthatwouldbeapity,”saidAmy.“Butmammahaspromisedtobuysomelinen both for your curtains and for mine that are, youknow, to hang all round the open court of theTabernacle.”

“Itisverytiresometohavetostopatthebeginningforwantoffinelinen!”exclaimedDora.“Ihopethatmammawillgooutandbuyusplentyatonce.”

“Ah! Dora, you know that mamma owned thismorning that she felt very tired,” said Amy, a littlereproachfully;“andtheshopsareagoodwayoff;itisnotasifwelivedinthetown.”

“Besides, it is raining,” observed Elsie, who waslookingoutofthewindow.

“Itismerelyalittledrizzle,thatwouldnothurtafly!”

exclaimedDora.“Mammanevermindsa few tinydropswhensheputsonherwaterproofcloak.”

“Mamma never minds anything that has only to dowithherowncomfort,”observedAmy.

“So there ismoreneed thatweshouldmindforher,”saidAgnes.

“I’m sure that I wish that I could go to the shopsmyself without troubling, any one!” exclaimed theimpatientDora. “If it were not for this stupid, tiresomeinfection, I’d getLucius to gowithme thisminute, andwouldwenotreturnladenwithlinen,pasteboard,andallsortsofthings!Butmamma’sfearofsettingotherpeoplecoughingandwhoopingmakesherkeepusshutuphereinprison.”

“Mammaisquiteright!”exclaimedLucius.“Isayso,though I hatemore thanyoudobeingboxeduphere inthehouse.”

“Mamma is quite right,” re-echoed poor Agnes, assoon as she recovered voice after another violent fit ofcoughing,whichalmostchokedher.“Ishouldnotliketogiveanyoneelsesuchadreadfulcomplaintasthis.”

Mrs. Temple now entered the room, with severalthingsinherhand.“IhavefoundanicebitofredTurkey

cloth,”saidshe,“somylittleElsiewillbeable toset toworkonhercurtainsatonce.”

The child clapped her hands with pleasure, and thenscamperedoffforherlittleTunbridge-warework-box.

“I hope that you have found the linen too,mamma,”criedDora;“Iaminahurryforit,averygreathurry,”sheadded,regardlessofanindignantlookfromAgnes,andapleadingonefromAmy.

“Iamsorry that Ihavenosuitable linen,” replied thelady,“butIintendtogooutandbuysome.”

“Notto-day,notnow,itisraining;youaretired,”criedseveral voices; that of Dora was, however, not heardamongstthem.

“Ihaveheresomepasteboard,thoughnotsufficientforourmodel,andabottleofstronggumwhichwillbemostuseful,” said the lady,placingon the tablewhat shehadbrought; “but gilt paper will be needed as well as goldleaf,andofitIhavenone;Imustprocurethat,andsomemorepasteboardformydearboy.”

“Andplentyofwire,cutintofive-inchlengthsforthepillars,”addedLucius.

“AndlinenforAmyandme,”joinedinDora.

“But please buy nothing till Monday,” said Agnes;“theworkcanwaitquitewellforacoupleofdays.”

“Yes, yes, do wait till Monday,” cried the otherchildren;Doraagainbeingtheonlyexception.

Dora’s selfishness was marring her offering, asAgnes’spridehadblemishedhers.Howdifficultitisevenin the most innocent pleasure, even in the most holyoccupation, to keep away every stain of sin! Ever sincethe sad time when evil entered the beautiful garden ofEden,andAdamandEveateofthefruitwhichGodhadforbiddenthemtotaste,pride,selfishness,andunholinesshavebeennaturaltothehumanheart.Evenwhenwemostearnestlytrytodowhatwethinkgoodworks,howmuchweneedtobeonourguardlestsincreepintospoilall!

Dora,thoughsilent,showedsoplainlybyherlooksherextreme impatience to be supplied at once with thematerials forwhich shecouldhave soeasilywaited thathergentlemothermadeuphermindtogratifythewishofher daughter.Mrs. Temple put on herwaterproof cloak,and, tired as she was, went forth on a shoppingexpedition. It vexed the children to see that the cloudsgrew darker and the shower fell more heavily not longaftertheirmotherhadquittedthehouse.

“Ifmammacatchescoldorhaspaininherfaceitisall

Dora’sfault!”exclaimedLucius.

“It was so selfish—so silly not to wait,” observedAgnes;“justseehowtherainispouring!”

“I love mamma as much as any of you do!” criedDora,herheartswellingwithvexation,sothatshecouldhardlyrefrainfromtears.

“Youloveyourselfbetter,that’sall,”remarkedLucius;andhiswordsweremoretruethanpolite.

Mrs.Templereturnedhomeverymuchtiredandratherwet,notwithstandingherumbrellaandwaterproofcloak.AndDorawas,afterall,disappointedofherwishtohavethe linen and begin her embroidery work directly.Mrs.Templehadfounditdifficulttocarryhomeparcelswhenshehadanumbrellatoholduponawindyday,andhadalso feared that goodsmight get damp if taken throughdriving rain.Thewire,pasteboard,gold-paper,and linenwere tobe senthome in theevening,and the longed-forparcel did not appear until it was time for the twins tofollowtheiryoungersisterstobed.

VI.Types.

“ThisisthedaywhenChristarose,Soearlyfromthedead;

AndshallIstillmyeyelidscloseAndwastemyhoursinbed!

“ThisisthedaywhenJesusbrokeThechainsofdeathandhell;

AndshallIstillwearSatan’syokeAndlovemysinssowell!”

THISwell-known hymnwas onAmy’smindwhen sheawoke on the following day, and it rose from her heartlike the sweet incense burnt every morning in theTabernacleofIsrael.ButDora’sthoughtsonwaking,andfor some time afterwards, might be summed up in thewords—“Oh,IwishthatthisdaywerenotSunday!Howtiresomeitis,whenmybeautifulpatternisallready,nottobeabletotryit!”

THEALTAROFINCENSE.Children’sTabernacle. chap.6.

Mrs.Templedidnotappeartobemuchtheworseforhershoppingintherain.Herchildrenknewnothingoftheaching in her limbs and the pain in her face which shefelt,assheborebothquietlyandwentaboutherdutiesasusual. Dora did not trouble herself even to ask if hermotherwerewell. Itwas not thatDora did not loveherkindparent,butatthattimethemindofthelittlegirlwascompletelytakenupbyherembroideryinscarlet,purple,andblue.

As thechildrenmightnotgo tochurch,Mrs.Templeread and prayedwith them at home, suffering none butLuciustohelpher,andlettinghimreadbutlittle,forfearofbringingbackhiscough.

Allthroughthetimeofprayers,thoughDorakneltlikethe rest of the children, and was as quiet and lookedalmostasattentiveasany,herneedleworkwasrunninginhermind.Ifshethoughtofthehappycherubim,itwasnotof their crying“Holy, holy, holy!” inheaven,butof theforms of their faces andwings, and how she could bestimitatesuchwithherneedle.

IwillnotsaythattheotherchildrenthoughtabouttheTabernacle only as a holy thing described in the Bible,

fromwhichreligiouslessonscouldbelearnt,—littleplansfor sewing, measuring, or making the model wouldsometimes intrude, even at prayer-time; but Lucius hadresolutely locked up his knife, and he and three of hissisters at least tried to give full attention to what theirmother was speaking when she read and explained theWordofGod.

Mrs.TemplepurposelychosetheninthchapteroftheEpistle to the Hebrews, a very difficult chapter to theyoung,butonelikelyspeciallytointerestherfamilyatatimewhenthesubjectoftheTabernacleinthewildernesswasuppermostinthemindsofall.ItwillbenoticedthatDora did not join at all in the conversation whichfollowedthereading.

“Mamma, thatchaptercomesnearlyat theendof theBible, and is about our Lord and his death,” observedLucius; “andyet it tellsusabout theTabernacle, and itsark, and the high priest going into the Holy of holies.Now, what could the Tabernacle in the desert have dowithourLordandHisdying,—thatTabernaclewhichwasmade nearly fifteen hundred years before the birth ofChrist, and which was no longer of any use afterSolomon’stemplewasbuilt?”

“TheTabernacle,theark,thehighpriest,thesacrificeswere all TYPES or figures of greater things to come,”

replied Mrs. Temple. “There was a secret meaning inthemall,referringtoourLord,Hiswork,andHisdeath,and the glorious heaven which He was to open to allbelievers.”

“Idon’tknowwhatatypeis,”saidElsie.

“Itisnotcleartomeeither,”observedAmy.

“Unless we quite understandwhat a type means, weshalllosemuchofthelessonconveyedbythewanderingsof the children of Israel, and the long account of theTabernacle, what was in it, and what was done there,which we find in the books of Moses,” remarked Mrs.Temple.

“It always seemed to me as if that Tabernacle werequite a thing of the past,” said Agnes, “and that itbelongedonlytotheIsraelitesofold.InevercouldmakeoutwhyChristianpeople inEngland, thousandsofyearsaftertheTabernaclehadquitedisappeared,shouldcaretoknowanythingaboutit,theark,orthealtar.”

“But you say that all these things were types,”observedAmy.“Now,whatisatype,dearmamma?”

“A kind of shadow or picture of something usuallygreaterthanitself,”repliedMrs.Temple.

“Idon’tunderstand,”saidElsie, raisingherblueeyesgravelytothefaceofhermother.

“Youknow,my love, thatbeforeyoucame to live inthishouse,whennoneofthefamilybutmyselfhadseenit, you still had some little knowledge of what it waslike.”

“Yes,mamma,foryoubroughtuslittlepicturesofthehouse,bothofthebackandthefront,”saidAgnes.

“Weknewthatitwasaprettywhitehouse,andhadalittle tower on one side, and that trees were growing infront,andcreepersallupit!”criedElsie.

“Now, I might have described the place to you inwriting,butyouwouldnothaveknownitsappearanceaswellasyoudidfromthepictures,”observedMrs.Temple.

“No, fromameredescription I shouldnot havebeenabletofindoutthehousedirectlyasIdidwhenIwalkedalone from the station,”criedLucius. “Thereare severalwhite houses near this, but the remembrance of thepicturesmademeknowinamomentwhichwastherightone.”

“Now,mychildren,justwhatapictureistotheobjectwhichitrepresents,soisatypetoitsantitype;thatwordmeans the real thingofwhich it isa likeness,”observed

Mrs.Temple.

“I am afraid that I amvery stupid in notmaking outwhatyoumeanatonce,dearmamma,”saidAmy;“butifyouwouldexplainjustonetypeintheBible,IthinkthatImightunderstandbetter.”

“Let us take, then, the innermost part of theTabernacle,theHolyofholies,”repliedMrs.Temple.“Itwasaverybeautifulplace, fullof thegloryofGod, intowhich no objects were allowed to be but such as werepreciousandpure;therewasthemercy-seatlikeathrone,andtherewerethebrightcherubimspreadingtheirgoldenwings.Now,mychildren, ifwecomparesmall things togreat things, cannot you of yourselves find out of whatthisHolyofholieswasapictureoratype?”

“Atypeofheaven!”exclaimedseveralvoicesatonce;butAmylookeddistressed,andmurmuredsoftly,“Ihopenotatypeofheaven.”

“Andwhynot?”askedLucius,quickly.

“BecausenoonewaseverallowedtogointotheHolyof holies save oneman, and he only once in the year,”repliedAmy,sadly.

“Andthatnotwithoutblood,”saidLucius,pointingtotheseventhverseofthechapterwhichhismotherhadjust

beenreading.

“Goon reading,Lucius,” saidhisparent,andLucius,asdesired,wenton.“Notwithoutblood,whichheofferedfor himself and for the errors of the people, the HolyGhost thus signifying that theway into theholiest of allwasnotyetmademanifest.”

“Or, in simpler words,” said Mrs. Temple, “that theway into heaven was not yet made plain.When Christ,ourgreatHighPriest,hadgoneintoheaven,neitherbytheblood, of goats and calves, but by His own blood Heenteredonceintotheholyplace,havingobtainedeternalredemptionforus.”

“Then,mother, thehighpriestmusthavebeenaTYPEoftheLordJesusChrist!”exclaimedLucius.

“No,” interruptedAgnes, “the sacrificewas the type,thesacrificewhosebloodhadbeenshed.”

“Both high priest and sacrifice were types of ourblessed Saviour,” replied Mrs. Temple. “The Lord wasthevictimoffered, andHewas also thehighpriestwhomadetheoffering,forHelaiddownHis lifeofHimself,sincenomanhadpowertotakeitfromtheAlmightySonoftheMostHigh.”

“Was there any particularmeaning in the veil of the

Templebeingrentintwainfromthetoptothebottom,assoonasourLorddiedonthecross?”inquiredAgnes,whohadbeenlisteningwithseriousattention.

“We cannot doubt it,” answered her mother. “TheTemple was the far larger, more substantial buildingwhich took the place[A] of the Tabernacle of thewandering children of Israel; it, too, had its veil of richworktoshutoutfrommortalviewtheHolyofholies.ButassoonastheOnegreatSacrificehadbeenofferedonthecross,whenthedyingLordcouldcryout‘IT ISFINISHED,’thenfollowedtherendingasunderofthehidingveil,asasign and type that all the Lord’s people, through Hispreciousblood,might freely enter heaven, the realHolyofholies,andappearwithoutdreadofmeetingHiswrathinthepresenceofGodtheFather.”

FOOTNOTE:

[A] The Temple standing at the timeof our Lord’s deathwas not Solomon’s,which had been burnt more than sixhundredyearsbefore.

VII.DrawnAside.

THE subject of the preceding conversation had been soexceedinglysolemnthatevenlittleElsiehadagravelookof awe on her round rosy face, though she couldunderstand but little of the greatmysteries ofwhich hermotherhadbeenspeaking.Elsiecouldonlygatherthatatype was like a picture of something much greater andmore wondrous than itself, and said in her simple,childish way, “Is not a type like your very tiny photo,mamma, so little that we could notmake out that therewasanypicture at all tillweheld it up to the light, andthenwecouldseetheQueen’sgreatpalacequiteplain?”

“Elsie has given us a type of a type!” cried Lucius,clappinghislittlesisterontheshoulder.

“Whatdoyoumeanbythat?”askedAgnes.

Luciuswaspuzzledtoexplainhisownmeaning,whichwasperhapsnotverycleartohimself,sohismothercametohishelp.

“Elsie’s very minute photograph is not a bad

illustration of what Bible types are,” remarked Mrs.Temple. “They look small, and might almost escapenotice,untiltheeyeoffaithseesthemintheclearlightofGod’s Word, and then what seemed little more than aspeck, may be found to be a likeness of somethinggranderfarthanaroyalpalace.”

“Itwould be interesting to find out someotherBibletypes,”observedAgnes.

“I was just going to propose that while I attendafternoon service,you shouldalloccupy the timeofmyabsenceineachfindingatype,whichwecantalkoverintheevening,”saidMrs.Temple.

“I should like that!” cried Lucius; “I am glad ofanythingtomaketheafternoonlessdull;forIknowthatas it is damp to-day we shall all have to keep withinbounds,” he added, Agnes having just begun a fit ofcoughing.

“I should like to findaBible type if I could,but I’mafraidthatIamtoostupid,”saidAmy.

“You andme,we’ll try together,” cried Elsie, layingherplumpdimpledhandonthatofhersister.

“Ah! you think that union is strength, Pussie!” criedLucius; “and that you two youngest of the party will

togetherbeamatchforanyoneoftherest.”

LittleElsie’sbrainhadnowbeenquitelongenoughonthestretch,andafter jumpinguponhermother’sknee togiveher“agoodtightkiss,”thechildranofftoplaywithher Noah’s Ark. The family then dispersed to variousparts of the house, soon to reassemble at the cheerfulsoundofthedinner-bell.

After Mrs. Temple had started for church, Lucius,AgnesandAmytookuptheirBiblestosearchinthemfortypes, while little Elsie amused herself with a book ofScripture pictures. Dora went to the room called thestudy,inwhichthechildrenusuallylearnedtheir lessonsin the morning, and amused themselves in the evening,and in which they kept their workboxes and desks, andmostoftheirbooks.Dorafoundnooneinthestudy,andsaunteredup to the side table, coveredwithgreen cloth,onwhichstoodherneatlittleworkbox.

“Of course I am not going to do one stitch of myembroideryto-day,becausethisisSunday,”saidDoratoherself.“But therecanbenoharmin just lookingatmyprettypattern,andseeingwhetheritislikelytodofortheinnercurtainsandveil.”

Doraopened thebox, and tookout thepatternwhichlayontheneatly-foldedpieceof linenwhichhermother

hadgiven toher justbefore the twinshadgoneup-stairstobed.Dora admiredher ownpattern,whichwas realtydrawn out with some skill, but she saw that it was notquite perfect. Her pencil lay close at hand; Dora couldnot, or did not, resist the temptation to put in a fewtouchestothisandthatpartofthedrawing.

“Iwonder how I should arrange the colors,” thoughtDora; “I wish that I hadmore scarlet inmy reel, and Ithinkthatmyblueskeinistoodark;Agneshassomesky-bluesewingsilk,Iknow.Perhapsthatwouldbebetter,orboth shades might have a pretty effect, mixed with thescarletandpurple.”

Dora took out her reels and skeins, and placed thembesideherpattern, and tried to imagine the effect of thedifferentcombination of color.Would it bewell for thecherubim to be worked in purple or blue, or entirely inthread of gold, like their wings? Dora was inclined tothink the last plan best, only gold thread is so stiff, anddifficulttomanage.

“Ishallnevergo to rest till Ihavemadeupmymindabout this,” muttered Dora to herself, “and how can IdecidewhatwillbebesttillItry?AndwhyshouldInottry?” Dora, with her colored silks before her, was, likeEve, looking at the forbidden fruit, and listening to thevoice of theTempter,whowould persuade her that evil

wasgood.

“There are some thingswhich evenmamma says arequite lawful to be done on Sundays, such as charitableworks. Mamma herself dressed the cook’s scalded armupon a Sunday, and put in a stitch or two to keep thebandagesfirm.ThatwassurelysewingonaSunday,butthenthatwasaworkofcharity.Well,butmineisaworkofcharity,too.”ThusDorawenton,whilethedangerouscurrent of inclination was gradually drifting her ontowardsbreakinginacttheFourthCommandment,whichshe had all day long been breaking in thought. “OurTabernacle is to be the model of a holy—a very holything, just the kind of a thingwhich it is right to thinkabout on Sunday. Then it is to be made for a verycharitable purpose. I am sure that bandaging the cook’sarm is no better work than helping a ragged school; Idon’t think that it is reallyasgood, foraunt’spoor littlepupils are taught to loveGod and read theBible.No, itsurely cannot bewrong to assist such an excellentworkonanydayintheseven.”

Doraunrolleda lengthofbluesilk, tookoutaneedleand threaded it. She had almost succeeded in silencingconscience,at leastforatime;shehadalmostpersuadedherself that in amusing herself she was helping a holycause; and that God would not be displeased at her

breaking His commandment, because she was going toworkfor thepoor.There is,perhaps,nomoredangerouserrorthantothinkthattheendjustifiesthemeans—thatitis lawful to aChristian to do evil that goodmay come.Oh,dearyoungreader!ifyoueverfindyourselftryingtoquiet conscience by the thought that to do a great goodyoumaydoalittleharm,startbackasifyoucaughtsightof the tail of a snake in your path!Yes, for the serpentwhodeceivedEve is trying todeceiveyoualso. IfDorahadbeenhonestandcandidwithherself,shewouldhaveseen,asher fingersbusilyplied theneedle, that shewasreally working for her own pleasure; that herembroidering a piece of linen was an utterly differentthing fromhermother’sbandaging abadly-scalded arm,andrelievingasufferer’spain.Tocasesofnecessitysuchasthat,theSaviour’swordstrulyapplied—“Itislawfultodo good on the Sabbath-day;” but there was nothing tojustify Dora in following her own inclination, andworkingonthedayappointedforholyworshipandrest.

If there was really no harm in what she was doing,why was it that Dora started so when she heard hermother’svoiceatthedoorofthestudy,andwhydidshesohurriedly thrust linen, pattern, and silksback into theworkboxashergentleparententeredtheroom?

Dora’sbackwasturnedtowardsthedoor,sothat,from

herbeingbetweenitandthetable,Mrs.Templecouldnotsee the cause of the little bustlingmovementwhich shenoticedoncomingintothestudy.

“Whatareyoudoing,mylove?”askedthelady.

“Nothing,” answeredDora quickly, as she succeededin shutting down the lid of herworkbox.Thewordwasutteredinhaste,withoutreflection;buttheinstantafterithadpassedher lipsapangshot through theyounggirl’sheart,forshewasawarethat,perhapsforthefirsttimeinher life, she had uttered a downright falsehood.Conscience could be silenced no longer; the second sinintowhichDorahadbeendrawnbyherfearshowedherinastronglightthenatureofthefirst,intowhichshehadbeendrawnbyherloveofamusement.Ifshehadnotbeendoingwhatwaswrong, shewould not have been afraidlest her occupation should be found out by her tender,indulgentmother.

Mrs. Temple never doubted the word of one of herchildren,butshecouldnothelpthinkingthatthemannerof Dora was strange, and she would probably haveinquiredfurtherintoitscause,hadshenotjustthenbeenfollowedintothestudybyLucius.TheboyhadhisBibleinhishand,andathoughtful,perplexedlookonhisface,which at once fixed the attention ofMrs. Temple.Dorawasglad thathermother’sattentionshouldbedrawnby

anything from herself, for otherwise she could not havehiddenherconfusion.Sheseatedherselfonastoolbythewindow,withherface turnedawayfromherparent,andthere remained a silent listener to the followingconversationbetweenMrs.Templeandherson.Whetherthat conversation was likely tomake Dora’s conscienceeasierornot,Ileavethereadertojudge.

VIII.Sacrifices.

“I HAVEbeen lookingout fora type,mamma,asyouwishedustodo,”saidLucius,seatinghimselfonthesofaonwhichhisparenthad takenherplace, and restinghisBible upon her knee. “I am not surewhether Imay nothave heard already from you thatAbraham’s sacrificinghisdearsonisakindofshadowofGod’ssacrificingHisonlySon;atanyrate,IthoughtofthisasthetypewhichIshouldchoosetospeakofintheevening.”

“You could hardly have chosen a more remarkabletype,myboy.IbelievethatAbrahamwascommandedtosacrificehissonnotonlytotrythefondfather’sfaithandobedience, but also that Isaac ascendingMount Moriahwith the wood for the burnt-offering on his shoulder,mightbetotheendoftimeatypeoftheblessedSaviourbearingthecrossonwhichHewastosufferonCalvary.”

“Ah!mother,itisallthatsufferingandsacrificingthatissuchadifficultytome!”exclaimedLucius.“Whyissomuchsufferingneededatall?”Theboylookedearnestlyintohismother’sfaceashespoke.

“It is a sad mystery, Lucius; we do not fullyunderstandit;butonethingiscertain,notonlyfromwhatwereadintheBible,but fromwhatwesee in theworldaround us, and that thing is that sin and suffering areboundtogether,wecannotseparatethem;sufferingistheshadow of sin andmust follow it; THE WAGES OF SIN ISDEATH(Rom.vi.23).

“But you have taught us that GOD IS LOVE,” saidLucius,thoughtfully.

“SurelyGodislove,”repliedMrs.Temple;“Godlovesman, butGod hates sin,which is the greatest enemy ofman. It isGod’smercifulwill thatman shouldbe savedbothfromsinhere,andfromitsmostterriblepunishmenthereafter.”

“The Holy of holies is a difficulty to me,” observedLucius; “why should no man, save the high priest, besufferedtogoin,ordrawnearthemercy-seatofGod?”

“Askyourselfwhatlessonthiswouldhavetaughtyouhad you been one of the children of Israel,” said Mrs.Temple. “When you beheld the Tabernacle with thewondrous cloud resting upon it, and gazed through theopeninginfrontontheveilwhichhidfromyoureyesthemoredazzlingglorywithin—thatglorywhichwasasignoftheimmediatepresenceofGod,intowhichonpainof

death you dared not enter—what would have been thethoughtuppermostinyourmind?”

“The thought thatGodwas terribly holy, and that nohumanbeingwasfit tocomenearHim,”repliedLucius,gravely.

“But one man was allowed to draw near,” observedMrs.Temple.

“Only the high priest, and that with the blood of asacrifice,”saidherson.

“And somankindwere taught that there is a way toapproachaholyGod,butonlyoneway;theyweretaughtthat sacrifice was needful, that WITHOUT SHEDDING OFBLOODTHEREISNOREMISSION(forgivenessofsin),Heb.ix.22.

“But,mother,surelyGoddoesnotrequirethebloodofbullsandgoats!”criedLucius.

Mrs. Temple in reply turned over the leaves of theBible, till she found the fortieth Psalm, and then readaloud,

“Burnt-offeringand sacrifice hastThounot required.Then said I, Lo! I come; in the volumeof the book it iswrittenofMe, Idelight todoThywill,OmyGod.”It is

the Lord Jesus Christ who says this by the mouth ofDavid. The blood of lambs and other creatures wasworthless,saveassignsandpledgesofthepreciousbloodof Christ which cleanseth from all sin, (John i. 7,) theblood of Him who is indeed THE LAMB OF GOD THATTAKETHAWAYTHESINOFTHEWORLD(Johni.29).

“It seemssosad that theLord,whohaddonenosin,should have to bear all that agony on the cross,”murmuredLucius.

“Christbore it inourSTEAD,” saidMrs.Temple; “Hesuffered the punishment for sin, that sinners, repentingandbelieving,mightbesaved,forgiven,andmadehappyforever.”

“Istillcannotclearlymakeouttheuseofsacrifices—Imeanofanimals,”saidLucius.

“They taught that one being may suffer instead ofanother,” repliedMrs.Temple, speaking slowly, thatherson might weigh well every word. “When an Israelitebroughtalambforsacrificeitwasjustasifhehadsaid,‘OholyGod,IknowthatIamasinner,andthatIdeserveto suffer formy sin; but inmercy accept the lifeof thislamb instead ofmine.’ It was to teach this same lessonthat Aaron the high priest was commanded to lay hishandsontheheadofalivinggoat,andconfessoverhim

thesinsofallthechildrenofIsrael.Thescape-goat(asitwas called),was then sent away into the desert, bearingaway with him all the sins which had been solemnlyconfessed over him by the high priest of God. With athankful heart and lightened conscience must everyfaithful Israelitehaveseen thescape-goat ledawayfromthecamp. ‘Mysinsare taken fromme, far as theeast isfromthewest,’hemightsay,‘Ishallnever,neverhavetobearthatterribleburdenmyself.’”

“But why have we no scape-goats and no sacrificesnow?”askedLucius;whileDorasilently thought,“Whatacomfortitwouldbetoseeallone’ssinscarriedfarawayfromusforever!”

“Weneednomoresuchsacrificesnow,”repliedMrs.Temple, “because the One great Sacrifice which ChristmadeofHimselfonthecrossissoinfinitelyprecious,thatit is enough to save aworld thatwas lost from sin.Weneed no scape-goat now, for when Christ went forth todie,HecarriedawaywithHimtheburdenoftheguiltofallHispeople.”

“But then, mother, is every one’s sin taken away, iseveryonesuretoenterheaven,therealHolyofholies?”askedLucius.Thequestionwasaveryimportantone,andpoorDora’s heart beat fast as she listened to hearwhatanswerherparentwouldgivetotheboy.

“No,myson,”repliedMrs.Temple,“fornoteveryonehas true faith in the Lord and His Sacrifice, that faithwhichmakesusrepentofsin,besorryforsin,confessitand try to forsake it.Weknow that (twoonly excepted)all the Israelites above a certain age never reached thegoodlandofCanaan,butalldiedinthedesert.Andwhywas this? It was because they had sinned against God.They might have sacrifices but they had not true faith;theymightgiveuplambs,buttheygavenotupsin;theymight have God’s presence in the tabernacle to guidethem,buttheydidnotlet theirconductbeguidedbythelightofHisholyWord.”

“It almost seems tome,” observed Lucius, “as if theIsraeliteswanderingabout in thedesertwere typesofus—ofallwhoarenowcalledChristianpeople.”

Mrs.Templesmiledwithpleasure tosee thather sonwas beginning really to understand a little of OldTestament teaching by types. “Yes, dear boy,” shereplied,“thehistoryof theIsraelites is just likeapictureor type of what is now happening to ourselves in ourjourney through life towards heaven, our promisedCanaan.TheywerefirstinbondagetocruelPharaoh;wearebornintotheworldinbondagetosin.TheIsraelitesatthe beginning of their journey passed through the RedSea; St. Paul shows us that thiswas a type ofChristian

baptism(1Cor.x.2).IcouldgoontoshowyouhowthehistoryofIsraelisfullofmanyotherinterestingtypesofour own, but you have heard enough for the present.There are just a few most important lessons which Iwouldwishtoimpressonyourmind.Theyare:

“First,thatweallaresinners.

“Secondly, that we can only be forgiven and enterheaventhroughtheSacrificeofourLordonthecross.

“Thirdly, that His Sacrifice takes away all sin fromthosewhohavetruefaithintheirhearts;thatfaithwhosereality is shown by its making us repent of and try, byGod’shelp,togiveupoursins.”

IX.Concealment.

DORAfeltveryunhappy.ShehadbrokentheholyrestoftheLord’sday;shehadrepeatedprayerswithoutpraying,heard God’s Word read without attending, had made avainshowofreligion;andatlasthadworkedandworkedhardatherneedle,asshemighthavedoneonanyotherdayoftheweek.Dorahaddisobeyedwhatsheknewtobethe wishes of her mother, and then to hide suchdisobedience had uttered a lie to deceive her! The girlcould not conceal from herself that she had done whatwaswrong—exceedinglywrong; that shehaddispleasedaholyGod,whoseeyesareineveryplacebeholdingtheevilandthegood.

“Oh,what can I—what ought I to do now!” thoughtDora, as slowly and sadly shewent up to her own littleroom. Conscience gave an instant reply, “Retrace yoursteps as quickly as you can, own your fault to yourmother, and ask forgiveness from God.” But Dora wasveryunwillingtodothis;shewasinclinedtotakeakindofhalf-waycourse.

“IneednotsayanythingtomammaaboutwhatIhavedone,”thoughtDora.“Iwillnottouchmyprettyworkanymore on Sunday; and to-morrow, as soon as I get up, Iwill unpick every stitch ofwhat I have been sewing to-day.Thatwillbeagoodpunishmentforme;yes,thatwillbe the right kind of punishment for breaking the FourthCommandment.”

Dora half satisfied her conscience by making thisresolutiontoundowhatoughtnottohavebeendone;butthe little girlmade a grievousmistake in supposing thatanyself-inflictedpunishmentcantakeawaysin.WemustgostraighttotheLordforforgiveness,andaskitonlyforthesakeoftheLambofGod,whosufferedtotakeawayguilt; and when we have sinned against our fellow-creatures,aswellasagainstourHeavenlyFather,wemusthonestlyandopenlyconfesstothemwhatwehavedone,and ask their forgiveness. Dora shrank from doing this;shewas extremely unwilling to own to her mother thatshehadbeensewingonSunday.

“Perhaps mamma would take away from me themaking of the embroidered curtains altogether,” thoughtDora, “and give it to Agnes instead; and then all thefamilywouldknowthereason,andIshouldbeloweredinthe opinion even of little Elsie! Oh, how dreadfullyashamedIshouldfeel,andwhatabitterdisappointmentit

wouldbetoseetheworkinthehandsofanother,afterIhave takensuchpains todrawout thatbeautifulpattern!Worstofall,AuntTheodorawouldhearofmyfaultwhenwegotobewithheratChristmas.ShewouldbesuretoaskwhyIhadnotembroideredtheveilandthecurtains,for she thinks that I embroider sowell.Oh, I could notbear that theauntwhomI lovesomuch—wholovesmesomuch—shouldknowwhatIhavedone!No,no,thereisnouse in speaking about thematter at all; Iwill punishmyself by the tiresome unpicking, and then all will beright.”

Wouldallberight?WereDora topunishherselfeversoseverely,wouldallberight?No,dearreader,no!self-punishmentcannotwashawaysin.

“Couldmyzealnorespiteknow,Couldmytearsforeverflow,Allforsincouldnotatone,Thoumustsave,andThoualone.”

Dorawasonlydeceivingherselfnow,asshehadanhourbeforedeceivedherindulgentmother.

In the evening, after tea-time, the family assembledagain in the study. Their usual employment on Sundayeveningshadbeentosinghymnswiththeirmother,eachin succession choosing a favorite hymn; but thewhooping-cough had for weeks past put a stop to all

singing,andithadcostMrs.TemplesomethoughttofindawayofmakingtheeveningSabbathhouraspleasanttoher family as it had usually been. The searching in theBible for types had been a newkind of occupation, andhad made the afternoon seem less long to the youngprisonersathomethan itmightotherwisehaveappearedduringtheabsenceof theirmotheratchurch.Thefamilycircle looked a very happy one by the light of the fireround which they gathered; for autumn was beginning,the weather, though not very cold, was damp; and theillness from which the children were recovering madewarmthanddrynesssodesirable,thatthefirewasalwayslightedatsunset.

“Ilikewhenwesitsocosytogetherbeforetheblazingfire!” exclaimed little blue-eyedElsie, cuddling close tohermother.“IhopethatElizawon’tbringinthecandles;noonewantscandlestotalkby.Agnes,youwon’tcoughsobadly if youputyour feethereon the fender;please,Lucius,givethefireagoodstir,andmaketheredflamesleapupanddance.Arewenotahappyparty!”sheadded,squeezingtightlyhermother’shandinbothofherown.

Smiling facesgave the reply.Therewasbutone facethat wore no smile. Dora sat on the other side of hermother,butthegirlhaddrawnherchairalittlebackfromthe half-circle before the fire, and held a hand-screen

beforeherface,notreallytoprotectitfromthescorchingblaze,butthatitmightnotbeseenbythefire-light.Dorawas glad, though not for the same reason as Elsie, thatElizadidnotbringinthecandles.

X.DeadFaithandLivingFaith.

“MAMMA, I’ve been trying to find a type; I’ve beenlooking all through my Bible pictures,” said blue-eyedElsie.

“Anddidyousucceedinfindingatype,mydarling?”askedMrs. Temple, smiling at the gravity of the child,whom she thought scarcely likely to be able to discoverthemeaningofthemostsimpleScripturefigure.

“I don’t know—I’m not sure,” said little Elsie; “butI’ve found two pictures—one in theOld Testament andoneintheNewTestament—andtheyareratherlikeeachother; so, you know, dear mamma, it seemed as if onemightbeasortofatype.”

“And what were your pictures about, Elsie, pet?”askedLucius, stroking thehairofhisyoungest sister, ofwhomtheschoolboywasveryfond.

“One picturewas of Elijah raising the poorwidow’sson, and the other was of the Lord’s raising a widow’sson. Thesewere two things like each other,” saidElsie;

“but,”sheadded,shakinghercurlyheadthoughtfully,“Ican’ttelliftherewasanytype.”

“IdaresaythatlittleElsieisright,andthatElijahwasatypeoftheLord!”criedLucius,“fordidtheynotbothfastfortydaysinthewilderness?”

“I thought that Elijah was rather a type of John theBaptist,”observedAgnes.

“Yes,hewasso,”saidMrs.Temple.“OurLord’sownwords show that John, ‘the Voice crying in thewilderness,’ came in the spirit andpowerof theprophetElijah, though John worked no miracle. Yet in the twoinstanceswhichyourbrotherandElsiehavenoticed, theraisingof thedeadand thefortydays’ fast in thedesert,Elijah’shistoryshadowsforththatofOnefargreaterthanhimself. Has my dove Amy thought of any Scripturetype?” said the mother, turning towards her youngdaughter.

Amy hesitated a little; she was always distrustful ofherself, and in this was a great contrast to Elsie. Mrs.Temple smiled encouragingly upon her little girl. “I seethat there is something in your head,” said the mother;“tellus,mylove,whatyouhavethoughtof.Ifyouhavemadeamistake,Iwilltrytosetyouright;weareatleastlikely to gain some increase of Scriptural knowledge by

talkingoversuchsubjectsasthese.”

“I thought at first that I should never find outanything,” said Amy; “though you explained to us somuchabouttypesthismorning,dearmamma,IfeltquitepuzzledwhenItriedtomakeoutoneformyself.AtlastaversefromthethirdchapterofJohncameintomymind,and I wondered whether our Lord Himself taughtNicodemus in it something about a type. PerhapsNicodemus understood the Lord’s meaning, but I couldnotunderstandit—thatistosay,notclearly—soIthoughtthatIhadbetteraskyouaboutit,mamma.”

“Whatistheverse?”askedseveralvoicesatonce.

AmyfoldedherhandsreverentiallyassherepeatedthesacredwordsoncespokenbyourblessedRedeemer.Mrs.Temple would never allow her children to gabble overcarelessly any verse of Scripture.—“‘AsMoses lifted uptheserpentinthewilderness,somusttheSonofManbeliftedup,thatwhosoeverbelievethHimshouldnotperish,buthaveeternallife,’”(Johniii.14,15.)

“Most certainly, our Lord spoke then of a mostremarkable type,” said Mrs. Temple. “To what comingevent in his own life did our Saviour refer in theexpression‘beliftedup’?”

“ToHisbeing liftedupon thecross,”saidAmy, inalowtoneofvoice.

“And why was the Son of God lifted up on thedreadfulcross?”askedhermother.

“That we—that all who believe in Him shall haveeternallife,”repliedAmyTemple.

“It was indeed as a type of this great salvation frometernal death that the brazen serpent was lifted up byMoses,” said the lady. “Do you remember what hadhappenedtotheIsraelitestomaketheraisingofthebrassserpentneedfultosavethemfromdestructionbroughtonbysin?”

As Amy did not immediately reply to the question,Elsieeagerlyputinherword.

“You told us all about it last Sunday, mamma; Iremember the story quite well. The people had beenwicked,verywicked,andsofieryserpentscameamongstthemandbitthem;andmany—Idon’tknowhowmany—Israelites died, because no doctor knew how to curethem.”

“Were those deadly bites a type of sinwhosewagesaredeath?”askedLucius.

“Theywereso,myson,”saidhismother.“Manhadnowayofsavingthosewhohadreceivedthedeadlywound,soGodhimselfshowedMosesaway.TheLordbadehimlift up on high a serpent of brass, and promised thatwhosolookeduponitshouldlive.”

“Icannotimaginehowmerelookingcoulddotheleastgood to a person dying of the poison of a snake-bite,”observedAgnes.

“TheAlmightywilled that itshouldbeso,”saidMrs.Temple; “He willed that the look of faith should bringhealing toasickbody,as the lookoffaithatacrucifiedSaviour still brings healing to the sin-wounded soul.When I read how my Lord says, through the prophetIsaiah,‘LookuntoMe,andbeyesaved,alltheendsoftheearth’(Isaiahxlv.22),I thinkof thebrazenserpent,andknowthatIhavebuttobelieveinChristandbesaved.”

“What do you mean by the look of faith?” inquiredAgnes.

“Faithissimplybelieving,” repliedMrs.Temple.“TolooktoChrististobelievethatHeisableandwillingtosaveus,andthatnonecansaveusbutHe.”

Dora, who had chosen, as we know, to sit a littledrawnbackfromthecircle,andwithascreeninherhand,

nowdroppedthescreenonherlap,andleantforward,sothattheredflickeringgleamofthefire-lightshoneonherface as she anxiously asked, “Then are we quite, quitesafe,surenever tobepunishedforanythingevil thatwehavedone, if onlywehave faith that theLordwill saveus?”

“Yes, if the faith be real, living faith,” replied Mrs.Temple.

“Aretherethentwokindsoffaith?”inquiredLucius.

“Yes,”answeredhismother;“wereadintheBibleoftwokindsoffaithorbelief—onedeadandoneliving.”

“Icannotunderstandthatatall,”saidAmy.

“Iwilltrytoexplain,”saidthelady“andIaskyou,mychildren,togivemeyourfullattention,forthisisamatterof the greatest importance.You all believe, do you not,thatthereisanEmperorofGermany?”

“Yes,yes,”repliedthechildren:andElsieaddedwithalittlenod,“Ibelieve there is suchaman, thoughIneverhaveseenhim.”

“NowdoesyourbeliefintheexistenceoftheEmperor—that is, your faith in it—does it make the smallestdifference in your actions, or words, or feelings?”

inquiredMrs.Temple.

“No,whyshouldit?”criedLucius.

“TheEmperordoesnotcareforus;heknowsnothingaboutus,”saidElsie.

“ThenyourfaithintheEmperorisadeadfaith,ithasno effect on your hearts,” observedMrs. Temple. “Andthisisthekindoffaithwhichmanypersons,alas!haveinthe Lord. They believe in a careless sort of way thatChristoncelivedintheworld,anddiedonthecross,buttheybelieveonlywith thehead,notwith theheart.Andthis isdead faith, a kind of faith which never can saveus.”

“Butwhatislivingfaith,then?”askedAmy.

“Whenourbeliefmakesus really loveHimwhofirstloved us,—when the thought of Christ’s dying for sinmakes us hate sin, that costHim so dear, then our faithmustbelivingfaith;andthuslookingtotheLordwearesaved.”

Dora sighed and drew her head back again into theshadow.Herswasnotafaiththathadkeptherfromsin—herswasnotafaiththatmadehernowobeythewhisperofconscience,confessherfault tohermother,andmakewhatamendsshecouldforwhatshehaddone.

“Dependuponit,thatwhenanIsraelitehadbeencuredofhiswoundbylookingatthebrazenserpent,hedidnotgo and stroke and play with the fiery reptile that hadbittenhim,”observedLucius,whohad the clearestheadamongst the party, andbest entered into themeaningoftypes.

“No,hewouldrunawayfromthehorridcreatures,ortry to kill them; he would put his foot upon the fieryserpents and crush them—crush them,” cried Elsie,stampingher little footon thehearthrug, toadd force toherwords.

“So every onewho has living faith dreads and hatessin,and tries todestroy it,”observedMrs.Temple.“Wewill not carelessly trifle with it if we believe from ourheartsthatourblessedRedeemersufferedbecauseofoursins.”

“WhataveryholythingwasthatbrazenserpentwhichMoses set up on a pole!” exclaimed Amy. “Did he notafterwards put it into the ark, that the Israelites mightcarryitaboutwiththemwherevertheywent,andtreasureit as they did the tables of stone on which theCommandmentswerewritten?”

“Wedonot readofMosesputting thebrazenserpentinto the ark,” replied Mrs. Temple; “but the Israelites

must have carried it with them in their wanderingsthrough the desert, and have taken it into the PromisedLand, for we read of the brazen serpent being greatlyhonored by the people more than seven hundred yearsafteritwasliftedup.”(1Kingsxviii.4.)

“It was quite right that the Israelites should honor itvery,verymuch,”criedElsie,“becausethebrazenserpenthadsavedsomanypeoplefromdying.”

“Youmistake,mychild,”saidhermother.“Thebrassimage had no power in itself to save a single creaturefrom death; it was of no use at all but as a meansappointed by God. The brazen serpent was a type ofsalvation; andwhen the Jews took toburning incense tothe mere type, that is, when they paid to it the honorwhichisduetoGodalone,theyfellintosin.”

The younger children looked surprised; and Amymurmured, “Then can even a holy thing leadmen to dowhatiswrong?”

“Men do wrong, exceedingly wrong, when they putanything,howeverholy itmayseemin theireyes, in theplaceofGod,”observedMrs.Temple.“WhengoodkingHezekiah saw that his people were honoring the brazenserpenttoomuch,whatdoyouthinkthathedid?”

“Perhapshe locked it up, so that noone couldget atit,”criedlittleElsie.

“Hezekiahtookamuchstrongermeasurethanlockinguptheimage,”saidhermother.“Thegoodkingbrokethebrazen serpent into pieces, and called it Nehustan, or apiece of brass, to show both byword and deed that themost holy and interesting relic may lead to the sin ofidolatry,ifitdrawawayourthoughtsandourheartsfromtheLordwhoalonecangiveussalvation.”

XI.Leprosy.

“AS we seem to be giving in our types youngest byyoungest, it isDora’s turn now to tell uswhich she haschosen,”saidLucius.

“Ah! Dora will have found out the most interestingtypeofall,Doraissoclever!”criedElsie,whohadgreatfaithintheintelligenceofthebrighterofthetwins.

All eyes were turned towards Dora as she sat in theshadow,butDora’sowneyeswerebentonthehearthrug.ShehadbeensomuchtakenuponthatSunday,firstwithher embroidery, thenwith the conversation between hermother and Lucius, and the painful struggle in her ownmind with an upbraiding conscience, that Dora had noteventhoughtoflookingoutforatypeinScripture.

“Whathaveyouchosen,Dora?”askedLucius.

“Ihavenotchosenanytypeyet,Ihavenothadtime,”stammered out Dora, confused and mortified to findherselfbehindevenlittleElsie,wholookedastonishedatthewordsofhersister.

“Nottime!why,youhavehadasmuchtimeasanyofus,”saidAgnes.“Whatwereyoudoingalltheafternoonwhilemammawasatchurch?”

“Nothingparticular,”saidDora,withalittleconfusion.Againapangshotthroughtheheartoftheconsciousgirlfor she knew that she was again staining her lips withuntruth.

“Youdon’tmeantosaythatyouweresittingfromtwoo’clocktillfive,withyourhandsbeforeyou,andthinkingaboutnothingatall,”saidLucius.

“PerhapsDorawasreadingthatinterestingbookaboutthepoorFrenchProtestants,”suggestedAmy.

Dora did not speak. She was too well pleased, alas!that her family should believe that she had been thusengaged, though she knew that she had not somuch asopenedthevolumeinquestion.

“Itwouldhavebeenbetter,my love, foryou tohaveenteredinto theoccupationwhichinterestsyourbrothersandsisters,”saidMrs.Temple,inatoneofgentlereproof.“Even reading a nice Sunday book like the one Amymentionedmaybecome a selfish amusement, if it keepsusfromaddingalittletothegeneralpleasure.”

“I never knew Dora take such a reading fit before,”

muttered Lucius; “she generally likes to use her fingersmorethanherhead.”

Theremarkwasaverycommonplaceone,yetitaddedtoDora’sconfusion.Mrs.Temple,noticingherdaughter’slookofannoyance, thoughsheattributed it toadifferentcausethanthetrueone,turnedtheconversationbyaskingAgneswhethershehadthoughtofaScripturaltype.

“Yes,mamma,”repliedAgnes.“Ibelievethatleprosyisatypeofsin,andthecureoflepersatypeofthecureofsinjustasthelookingupatthebrazenserpentwasacureforthedeadlybites.”

“You are perfectly right, my dear girl,” said hermother.

“Whatisleprosy?”askedlittleElsie

“Adreadfulkindofillness,”repliedAgnes;andassheseemed disinclined to say more, perhaps from fear ofbringingonhercoughbyspeaking,hermothercontinuedthedescriptionofthisterribletypeofsin.

“Thisfrightfulmaladyisstillwell-knownintheEast,”said Mrs. Temple. “Your uncle, who came lately fromIndia, has told me that he has seen many poor lepersthere. The leprosymakes them loathsome to the eye; itcreeps over their bodies; it wastes their flesh; when it

fastensontheirhands,itwillmaketheveryfingersdropoff!”

“Oh,howdreadful!”exclaimedallthechildren.

“Dreadfulindeed,butnotsodreadfulasthesinwhichit represents,” said their mother sadly; “for the soul’ssickness is more dangerous, its effects infinitely morelasting.”

“I don’t quite see how leprosy is a type of sin,”observedAmy.

“Ithinkthatweareledtobelieveittobesuchbythevery particular commands regarding itwhichwe find inthelawofMoses,”saidMrs.Temple.

“Didpoorpeoplewith leprosynevergetwellagain?”askedElsie,withpityexpressedonherroundlittleface.

“Yes, they did sometimes recover,” said her mother,“but not by such means as are used in cases of othersickness.Notadoctor,butapriest,wastojudgewhethertheleperwerereallycured,or,asitwascalled,clean;andhehad tobringa specialoffering tobe sacrificed to theLord.”

“Isupposetheofferingwasthatsheepwhichweseeinthepicture?”saidElsie,fortheillustratedBiblehadagain

been brought and placed uponMrs. Temple’s knee, andthe firelight was sufficiently bright to show a picturerepresenting a cured leper coming to the high-priest, tofindwhich illustrationMrs. Temple had turned over thepages.

“Thatpictureshowsbutapartoftheoffering,”repliedMrs.Temple.“When thecandlescome in, Iwill read toyou from the ‘PictorialHistory of Palestine,’written bythe famous Dr. Kitto, a description of a very peculiarceremony which took place before the sheep and tworamswereslainasasin-offering.”

“Ah! here come the candles—just when we wantthem!”criedElsie,asElizamadeherappearance.

“I’ll get Dr. Kitto’s big book!” exclaimed Lucius,jumpingupfromhisseatbythefire.

The candleswere placedon the table near enough toMrs. Temple to enable her to read without quitting herwarmseat,butmerelyturningherchairroundtothetable.She thenreadaloud thefollowingextract fromtheworkofthelearneddoctor:

“‘Whenapersonwasreportedtobefreeofhisleprosy,apriestwentoutofthecampandsubjectedhimtoaverystrict examination. If no signs of the disorder appeared

upon him, the priest sent a person to bring two livingbirds(dovesoryoungpigeons),cedarwood,scarletwool,andhyssop,withwhichheperformed the ceremoniesofpurification, to admit the party to the privileges of theHebrewChurchandcommunion.’”

“Whatdoesthatmean,mother?”ashedLucius.

“That the man was no longer to be cut off, as werelepers in Israel, from worshipping the Lord within thecamp,ormixingwiththerestofthepeople,”repliedMrs.Temple.

“Oh, mamma, might not a poor leper do that!”exclaimedAmy.“Tobeshutoutfromprayingwithone’sfriends and relations would be almost the worst trial ofall!”

“Remember, my child, that the dreadful disease wasinfectious; there was need of the greatest care lest itshould spread in their camp. Lepers had to wear aparticulardress,andtoliveapartfromallwhowereyetinhealth. If any one drew near to a leper unawares, theafflictedonehadtocryout‘Unclean!unclean!’”

“Idon’tthinkthatIwilleveragaincomplainofbeingshut up from friends and playmates because of thiswhooping-cough,” cried Lucius. “It is disagreeable

enough tobekeptasweareeven fromgoing tochurch,but fancywhat itwouldbe tohave tocryout ‘Unclean!unclean!’ifanyonechancedtocomenearus!”

“Please,mamma,goonwith the accountofwhat thepriesthadtodowiththetwobirdswhichhesentforwhenhefoundthattheleperwasquitewellagain,”saidAmy.

Mrs.Templecontinuedherreading:

“‘Heslewoneofthebirds,andreceiveditsbloodinanearthen vessel. Into this he dipped the cedar wood, thescarlet wool, and the hyssop, and therewith sprinkledseven times theonce leprousperson.Theotherbirdwasthen permitted to escape, as a symbol that themanwasnowfreeofhisleprosy.’”

“Oh, how joyful the bird must have been whenallowed to fly freeup—uphigh into theair!” exclaimedElsie.

“Notmoregladthanthepoorcleansedleper,ofwhomthat birdwas a type,” observedMrs.Temple. “Think ofhisjoyatbeingfreetoreturntohisfamily—hiswifeandhis children; and his thankful delightwhenworshippingoncemorewithhisformercompanionsinthecourtoftheTabernacleofhisGod!”

“It seems to me that there is a verse in one of the

Psalms which shows that David had the cleansing of aleper inhismindwhenheprayed to theLord to forgivehimhissin,”remarkedLucius.

“I was just thinking of the same whenmamma readabout thehyssop,”saidAmy.“Itmademefeelsure thatAgneswasrightwhenshechoseleprosyasatypeofsin.”

“What is the verse to which you allude?” asked themother.

Lucius was the one to reply, but the lips of Amysilentlymoved,assherepeatedthesameversetoherselffromthefifty-firstPsalm—“‘Purgemewithhyssop,andIshall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter thansnow!’”

“Oh,mamma!I remember thestoryof thepoor leperwho came to the Lord Jesus,” said Elsie, “and how hecried,‘Lordifthouwilt,thoucanstmakemeclean!’”

“Howmuchmore deeply interesting is the Saviour’sreply,‘Iwill,bethouclean,’ifwelookuponleprosyasatypeofsin,”observedMrs.Temple.“TheLordwasableandwilling to heal, not the poorman’s body alone, butalsohis soul;andmakehimfree fromall stainof sinaswellasfromalltaintofdisease.”

XII.Naaman.

“THEleperstorywhichhasalwaysinterestedmemostisthatofNaamantheSyrian,”saidLucius,whenhehadputbackDr.Kitto’slargevolumeinitsplaceinthebookcase.

“Oyes,yes,”interruptedlittleElsie;“Iknowthatstorytoo,quitewell.IknowthatNaamanwasagreatman,andrich, and a famous general besides, but he had thedreadfulsicknesswhichnodoctorcouldcure.Irememberhow Naaman came in a grand chariot with prancinghorses to thehouseof thegoodprophetElisha,andhowangryhewaswhenonlyaservantcameoutandtoldhimtowashseventimesintheriverJordan.”

Elsie stopped almost out of breath from the rapiditywithwhichshehadspoken.AlltheyoungTempleswerefamiliarwiththeaccountofthecureoftheSyrian,whichwasoneoftheirfavoriteScripturestories.

“Was the leprosy of Naaman also a type of sin?”inquiredLucius.

“Ibelievethatitwas,”answeredMrs.Temple,“andI

am strengthened in this belief by Naaman’s leprosycominguponGehazi,asadirectpunishmentforhissin.”

“Ah!thatwickedGehazi!”exclaimedElsie;“hetoldalie,adreadfullie!Itwasrightthatheshouldbepunished,was it not?” The question was asked of Dora, Elsie’sfavorite sister. The child wondered at the unwontedsilencewhichhad comeoverDora, andwanted to drawherintoconversingliketherestoftheparty.

Dora winced at the question, and only replied by aslight movement of her head. But little Elsie was notsatisfied by this. “Why don’t you speak?” she saidbluntly.“Whenpeoplearesoverynaughtyastotelllies,andsay that theyaredoingnothingwhentheyaredoingsomethingbad,don’tyouthinkthattheyoughttobewellpunishedforit?”

Forced to reply, forElsie’squestionhaddrawneveryone’s attention towards her, Dora answered, “Of coursethey should be punished;” and having thus pronouncedsentence upon herself, she relapsed into silence, feelingmuch inclined,however, tostartupandescape from theroom.

“Areyounotwell,my love?”askedhermother,whocouldnothelpnoticingthatDora’smannerwasdifferentfromusual.

“Quite well, mamma; only a little tired,” was theevasivereply.

“Tiredofdoingnothing,”saidLucius.

Theconversationon the subjectofNaamanwas thenresumedbyAgnes.

“WhenNaamanwascleansedofhisleprosy,mamma,howwas it that Elisha did not tell him to go and showhimselftothepriest,andthatwehearnothingaboutasin-offering, nor of a bird being set free?” asked the eldertwin.

“You must remember,” replied Mrs. Temple, “thatNaamanwasnotanIsraelitebutaSyrian,aGentile,andthathewasthereforenotboundtoobservetheceremoniallaw of the Jews. I think thatNaamanwas a type of theGentilechurch,towhichbelongallChristianswhoarenotdescendedfromAbrahamandIsaac.”

“Towhichwethenbelong,”observedLucius.

“Notice, my children,” continued the lady, “how wesee,asifinaseriesofpictures,thehistoryofaconvertedsoulinthestoryofNaaman’scure.Firstthereisthemanpossessingallthatearthcangivehim,butafflictedwithadeadlydisease.”

“Like the people who were bitten by the fieryserpents,”interruptedLucius.

“Here in the leprous Naaman we behold a type orpicture of a soul with unforgiven sin staining andcorruptingit,”saidhismother.“Nextwefindtheleperatthe door of the prophet. Can any one of you tellme ofwhatNaamannowisatype?”

“Aseekingsoul,”repliedAgnes,afteralittlepauseforreflection.

“Ah!but thenextpictureisof theleper turningawayquite angry because he was told just to wash and beclean,”criedElsie.

“ThenNaaman is a typeof aproud soul, not contentwith God’s simple but wonderful plan of salvation,”continued the lady. “There are some persons now whothink that they can earn heaven by doing some greatthing, who believe that because of their own goodnesstheycanbecleaninthesightofGod.Suchpersons,likeNaaman,areoffendedandhurtwhentheyaretoldthatalltheirgoodworkscannottakeawaysin;thatthelepercanonlybesavedby living faith inHimwhoseblood is thefountainopenedforalluncleanness.”

“But Naaman did go and dip down seven times in

Jordanashewasbidden,”criedElsie;“and thenhewasmade quitewell, his flesh all soft and clean, just like alittlechild’s.”

“This is a picture or type of a believing, forgivensoul,” said Mrs. Temple, “the picture of one who hasbecomeachildofGod,andwhoisresolved,bythehelpofHisSpirit,toleadfromhenceforthanewlife.”

“These typesare reallybeginning tobequiteplain tome now,mother,” said Lucius, “and theymake theOldTestament seem to me to be very much more beautifulthan it ever seemed before. I remember how puzzled IhavebeenbysomewordsinoneoftheEpistlesabouttherockwhichMoses smote in the desert, and fromwhichthe waters gushed out. St. Paul wrote ‘that Rock wasChrist,’ and I never couldmake outwhat hemeant, forhowcouldtherockbetheLord?ButnowIunderstand,atleastIthinkthatIdo,thattheApostlemeant‘thatsmittenrock was a TYPE of Christ,’ and so everything becomesplain.”

“Some of our Lord’s own expressions require to beexplained in the same kind of way,” observed Mrs.Temple. “When our Saviour declared that He was theVine,andhisdisciples thebranches, itwasas ifHehadsaid,‘AvineisaTYPEofMe,anditsbranchesatypeofMy servants. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself,

exceptitabideinthevine,nomorecanye(bearthefruitsofholiness),exceptyeabideinMe.’”

“And when the Lord said of the bread at the lastsupper,ThisisMybody,Hiswordsmusthavemeantthatthe bread was a TYPE of His body,” said Amy withthoughtful reverence. She was a lowly-hearted girl, andshefelt,asweallshouldfeel,thatwhensoverysacredasubjectas theLord’ssufferingsordeath isspokenofbyus,itisasif,throughtheopeningintheTabernacleVeil,wewereenteringintotheHolyofholies.

XIII.TheTwins.

“CAN one object be a type of more than one thing,mamma?” asked Lucius, “for there is something whichwehavejustspokenofasbeingatypeofwhathealsoursouls—Imeanbythat,truelivingfaithintheLord;andIhave thought of something quite different, of which itseemsalsoatype.”

“AreyouspeakingoftheriverJordan?”askedAgnes,throughwhosemindthesamethoughthadbeenpassing.

“Yes, the river inwhichNaamandipped seven timesandwas cleansed,” repliedLucius. “When the Israelites,after their long wanderings in the desert, came to thatsame river Jordan, there was nothing but its watersbetweenthemandthePromisedLand,whichmothertoldmeto-dayisatypeofheaven.”

“And the waters were divided to let the people passoverquiteeasilyandsafely,”interruptedlittleElsie,whonever missed an opportunity of bringing out anyknowledgewhichshehadgleaned.

“Hush, Elsie! you distract my thoughts,” said herbrother,“andmakemeforgetwithyourprattlewhatIwasgoingtosay.Oh,itisthis!WhenChristianshavealmostgotovertheirlonglife-journey,thereisonlyonethingatlastthatdividesthemfromheaven,theirPromisedLand;and that thing is death.Mother, is not Jordan a type ofdeath?”

“Ibelievethatitis,”saidhismotherandAmysilentlythought of those beautiful verses which allude to thistype:—

“Oh!couldwebidourdoubtsremove,Thosegloomydoubtsthatrise,

AndviewtheCanaanthatweloveWithFaith’suncloudedeyes;

“CouldwebutstandwhereMosesstood,Andviewthelandscapeo’er,

NorJordan’sstream,nordeath’scoldflood,Couldfrightusfromtheshore.”

“Ialsobelieve,”continuedthelady,“thatthedividingof the waters, which enabled the Israelites to pass overwithout so much as wetting their feet, is a type of theterrorsofdeathbeingtakenawayfromtheChristian.SafethroughtheatoningsacrificeandhappyintheloveofhisLord,thebelievercanpeacefullypassontohispromised

land—heaven—with as little cause for fear as theIsraeliteshadincrossingthedrybedoftheJordan.”

“Ah! the Israelites were a happy people,” saidAmy,softly.“Thinkof theirhavingGodalways toguide thembythepillaroffireandcloud,andholyMosesalwaystopray for them; and the beautiful promised land Canaanbeforethem,andsomanywonderfulmiraclesworkedfortheirgood!Ialmostwish,”sheadded,“thatIhadlivedinthosedays.”

“HappierareChristiansinthesedays,mychild,”saidher mother, “for they know more, far more, of theSaviour’s love thanwasevermadeknown to thepeopleof Israel.We haveGod’s sureWord to guide us in ourwanderings through the desert of life, and we havebeyond thatdesert a farbrighter land thanCanaan,evenheaven, promised and purchased by Him who preparesgoodthingsforthosewholoveHim;andwehaveOnefargreaterthanMoses—OnewhoeverlivethtopleadforusattherighthandofGodwhilewefightourbattlesagainstsin.Moseswasabeingoffleshandbloodasweare;hisarms grew tired, he needed to have them held up byAaron and Hur; but the Lord Jesus in praying for Hispeople never grows weary, and His love never growscold.Mychildren,whenlifewasmostlikeadeserttome,when your father had crossed the Jordan and left me

behind, I cannot tell you what comfort and support Ifoundintheknowledgeofthatprayerandthethoughtofthatlove!”

Mrs. Temple’s voice faltered, andAmy felt the handwhich she was clasping tremble. The lady now veryseldomgaveway to any outward burst of sorrow in thepresenceofherchildren;hermannerwasusuallycheerfulandbright;but theelderonescouldwell rememberhowgreat had been her grief in the first sad days of herwidowhood, when their father’s useful life had beenclosed by a peaceful death. The young Temples allrespected their mother’s sorrow, and when she pausedfromemotion the roomwasso still that thecracklingofthefireandthetickoftheclockweretheonlysoundstobeheard.ButMrs.Templewasnotwillingtothrowevena brief shadowover the cheerfulness of her little familycircle,andwouldnotnowhavegivenwaytoherfeelingshadnotbodilywearinessandpainmadeher lessable tocontrol them. Mrs. Temple very quickly recovered herusualtone,andsaidinherwontedcheerfulmanner,“Mylittle Elsie’s eyes are growing sleepy, she can hardlymanagetokeepthemopen!Mybirdiehadbetterflyuptohersnugwarmnest,andpreparebyagoodlongrestforabusyto-morrow.”

“Oh, yes, to-morrow will indeed be a busy day!”

exclaimedLucius;“Imeantobeupwiththelark.Ihope,mother,”headded,“thatyouwon’tmindthenoiseofmyhammer?”

Mrs. Temple with a smile assured her boy that shewouldnotmindanything; shehadnotbeenamother solong without becoming accustomed to noise, and shewould be just asmuch interested in the progress of theworkofherchildrenastheythemselvescouldbe.

“You will like me to get on with my little redcurtains?”saidElsie,inratheradrowsytone.

A fond kiss was the mother’s reply; and then Mrs.Temple herself took her youngest child up to her bed-room, for the lady always liked to hear Elsie repeat hereveningprayer.

AboutanhourafterwardsalltheotheryoungTempleshad wished their mother good-night, and retired to theseveralapartments inwhichtheyslept.Thetwinssharedthe same room. It was a very pretty one, adorned withframed pictures painted by their Aunt Theodora, andlighted by candles in elegant green glass candlesticks,which had been a birthday present to them from theirmother. Both the girls were, on the night in question,moresilentthanusual,butfromdifferentcauses.

As Agnes sat slowly brushing out her long plaits ofbrownhair,stoppedeverynowandthenbyhercough,herthoughtsdweltmuchon the subject of the Israelites andtheirjourneythroughthewilderness,whichshewasnowtaughttoregard,notonlyasahistoricalfact,butalsoasatypeofthelife-journeyofChristians.

Agnes was not by natural disposition so merry andlight-heartedasherbrotherandsisters,andthisdifferencebetweenher and the rest of the familywas all themoremarkedatthetimeofwhichIamwriting,fromthehealthoftheeldertwinbeingagooddealshakenbyherillness.Agneshadnaturallyapeevish,passionate temper,whichgreatly marred her own peace of mind, and whichprevented her fromwinningmuch love from her youngcompanions.Agnes hadmany faults, and she knew thatshehadthem;theyweretoheratroubleandburden.Theyounggirlhonestlywishedtogetridofandconquerthesefaults,but shewantedenergyandspirit tomakea reallygood battle against her besetting sins. Agnes was toomuch disposed to conclude that because she was ill-tempered she must always continue ill-tempered, thatthere was no use in striving to subdue her evil nature.Mrs.Temple’selder twinwaswont to feelvexedand tolook sullen because Lucius never cared to sit and chatwithherashewouldwithDora;andbecauseElsieneverthrew her arms round her neck as she would round

Amy’s.ItgrievedAgnestonoticethatnooneevercalledher“pet,”orseemedtotakedelightinhavinghernear.

“Iknowthat it ispartlymyownfault,”Agneswouldoften say to herself, in bitterness of soul; “but I don’tthinkthatifIweretoleavehomeformonths,thereisanyonebutmammawhowouldmissmeorwantmeback.”

Suchthoughtshadonly theeffectofmakingthepoorgirl’stempermorecross,andhermannermorepeevish;itis so hard for the face to look bright and sweet whengloomiswithintheheart.

ButbetterthoughtswereinthemindofAgnesonthatSundaynight,asshesatsilentlybrushingherhair.Sweetandcomfortingwasthereflectionthatshewasnotlefttofightherbattlealone,thattherewasOnewhowouldnotonlyhearherprayer,butwhowouldHimselfprayforHisfeeblechild—whowouldbothwatchherstruggleagainstsin,andgiveherstrengthinthatstruggle.ItwassweettopoorAgnes,whensheafterwardskneltdown topraybythesideofherbed,tofeelthatifshewas,likeanIsraelite,bittenbytheserpentofsin,sheknewwheretolookforacure;thatifshewaslikeNaamantheleper,therewastheFountain open to her, in which she could wash and beclean.Hopehadsprungupintheyounggirl’sheart,andwithhopecame increaseofcourage.Agnes rememberedthat the Lord who had supplied all the need of the

Israelites could supply hers also; and when temptationsassailedher,astheenemyassailedthatpeople,makeheralsomorethanconquerorthroughthepowerofHisHolySpirit.

Very,verydifferentwerethethoughtspassingthroughthe mind of Dora, though outwardly she was doingexactly the same thingsasweredonebyher twin sister.Dorawasnot making a brave battle against inward sin,but was, like a coward and traitor, going over to theenemy’sside.ItistruethatshestillintendedtounpickontheMondaymorningallthatshehadsewnontheSundayafternoon;butthisresolvewasmadeonthefalseprincipleof punishing herself for the sin she would not honestlyconfess,andofwhichshehadnevertrulyrepented.Thisidea of self-inflicted punishment was merely Dora’scontrivance for quieting conscience, that consciencewhich had been very uneasy during the conversation onthe subject of leprosy, the terrible type of sin.ButDorawastrying,andwithtolerablesuccess,tobanishfromhermind all thought of that conversation. It was far morepleasanttothinkofthepatternoftheTabernaclecurtainsthan of the holy things ofwhich that Tabernacle shouldremindus.

Agreatmanypersons—evengrown-up persons—act,alas! like Dora. They so fix their attention on outward

things in religion that they quite overlook the inwardmeaning.Suchself-deceiversarereadyenoughtoworkatwhat pleases the eye and amuses the fancy, and believethattheyaremakinganofferingtoGod;butthecleansingof the heart, the giving up sin—these are duties whichthey shrink from,andwhich theywillinglyputoff to“amoreconvenientseason.”

XIV.Work.

ALMOST every inmate of Cedar Lodge was up veryearlyonMondaymorning,Agnesbeingtheonlymemberofthefamilywhodidnotrisetillherusualhour.Thefirstcrow of the cock, strutting about in the yard behind thehouse, roused little Elsie from sleep. The child wasrestlessandimpatientinherwhite-curtainedcot,untilshewassuffered to rise,dress,andsetaboutherTurkey-redwork for themodel.Amywasbendingover her strip ofwhitelinenalmostbeforetherewassufficientlightforhertoseehowtothreadherfineneedle,forthemorningwasdark and rainy; indeed the sun never showed his faceduringthewholeofthatcheerlessday.

Drip, drip! fell the rain, but none of the childrenregrettedthattheywerenotlikelytogooutofthehouse.“Idon’tmindtherainonebit!”criedElsie.“I’mgladthatitrains;we’llgetonsofamouslywithourwork!”

Drip,drip!felltherain;clink,clink!fellthehammerofLucius; and blithe sounded hiswhistle, as he labored inthemidstofhissquaresofpasteboard,stripsofwood,and

lengthsofwire.Theschoolboysettohisworkwithawill;and how pleasant is work when we have strength andspirittodoit,andfeelthatwehaveaworthyobjectbeforeus!

NoonewasupearlierthanDora.Shesprangfromherbed before twilight had given place to day-light, soimpatientwasshetogettoherembroiderypatternagain.The noise of Dora’s rising awoke Agnes, who had notpassed so good a night as her more vigorous twin haddone, thesicklygirlhavingbeenseveral timesdisturbedbyhercough.

“What are you about, Dora?”murmuredAgnes, in adrowsy and rather complaining tone; “I’m sure that itcan’tbenearlytimetogetup.”

“Oh,Iliketosetaboutmynewworkquickly,andgeta good piece of it done before breakfast,” was Dora’sreply.

“There will be plenty of time for work between thisandChristmas; Iwish thatyouwouldkeepquietand letmerest,”yawnedAgnes.

“You can rest if youwish it; Iwon’tmake a noise,”repliedDora.“ButformypartIliketobeupanddoing.Youknowthat:

‘Earlytobed,andearlytorise,Isthewaytobehealthy,wealthy,andwise.’”

Agnessaidnothingincontradictionoftheoldproverbwhich her sister had quoted, but turned round on herpillow,andwithawearyyawncomposedherselfagaintosleep.ShethoughtthatitwouldbetimeenoughtogetupwhenSusanshouldcallherataquartertoseven,andsheonlywishedthatDorahadthoughtsoalso,foritfidgetedAgnes to hear hermoving about in the room.ButDorahad cared as little about disturbing the sleep of a sicklysister as she had about letting hermother go out in therain. Dora admired her own energy, and looked uponAgnes almost with scorn, as being lazy, cold, and dull,withnotabitofenthusiasminhernature.

“Weshouldnothavehadamodelworthlookingathadtheembroiderybeenlefttoher,”saidDoratoherself,notwithout a feeling of self-complacence, as she glanced athertwinwhohadagainsunkintoslumber.

It will be remembered that Dora had resolved tounpickalltheworkthatshehadsewnupontheprecedingSunday.Assoonasthelittlegirlhadhastilyfinishedhertoilet, so hastily that she forgot to button her sleeves orputonher collar, sheopenedherworkbox, tookoutherwork, and seated herself as close to the window aspossible,inordertocatchasmuchasshecouldofthedim

light of dawn. It might have been expected that Dorawould also have forgotten to say her prayers, but suchwasnot thecase.Sherememberedtokneeldownbyherbedsideandhurrythroughamereformofwords,withoutpayingtheslightestattentiontotheirmeaning,thinkingofher embroidery all the time. It was a satisfaction to theconscienceofDorathatshehadrepeatedaprayer,andsheneverstoppedtoaskherselfwhetherthatprayerwerenotinitselfasin.

Dorawithneedleandscissorsset first toherworkofunpicking. But every one who has tried such anoccupationmustknowittobeoneofthemosttediousanddisagreeableof tasks. Itwasdoubly so toDora,becauseshegreatlyadmired theembroideryworkwhichshewasthusbeginningtospoil.

“It is a great pity to undo this,”Dora said to herselfbeforeshehadbeen for twominutesplying thescissors.“Iwon’tgoonwiththisfoolishunpicking.Afterall,myundoing every stitch ofmy prettyworkwould not undothefaultofmyhavingputitinonSunday.”

This was indeed true. A fault once committed, nohumanbeinghaspowertoundo;butwhilelookingtotheLord alone for forgiveness, we are bound to prove thesincerityofourregretforafaultbymakingwhatamendslie in our power. Dora took the easier, but far more

dangerousway,oftryingtoforgetthefaultaltogether,ortomakeupforitbywhatsheconsideredtobeherzealincharitywork.Shecertainlysewedverydiligentlyonthatdull morning, scarcely lifting her eyes from the patternwhichshehadneatlytracedonthelinen.Shewasfillingup the pencilled outlines with chain-stitch, satin-stitch,and other stitches, in bright-colored silks and a brilliantthreadofgold.

“Oh, look!—just look how famously Dora has beengettingonwithherwork!”exclaimedtheadmiringElsie,when, summoned by the bell at half-past eight, thechildren had assembled in the breakfast-room, awaitingtheirmother’scomingdowntoprayers.

“Why,youdon’tmeantosaythatyouhaveworkedallthatthismorning?”saidLuciustoDora.

Thequestionwas rather anawkwardone forDora toanswer—ittookthegirlbysurprise.Dorarepliedtoitbyan evasion,whichwas another act of deceit. “I couldn’tbegin my embroidery on Saturday night,” she said,actually congratulating herself that she had this timespokentheexacttruth,as if itwerenot theveryessenceoffalsehoodtodeceive,eventhoughthelipsmayutternolie. As Dora had not sewn on Saturday, she knew thatLucius would take it for granted that she had been socleverandindustriousastodoalltheworkwhichhesaw

on the Monday morning, for he would certainly neversuspectherofhavingputinonestitchuponSunday.

“Don’t you admire Dora’s curtain, is it not lovely?”saidAmytoAgnes,whowasexaminingtheworkofhertwin.

“Rather,”wasthereply,utteredinahesitatingtone.

Agnes could not truthfully have expressed warmeradmiration, for she did not think that the figures of thecherubim were at all gracefully drawn, nor did sheconsider that the colors were perfectly blended, therebeing too little scarlet in proportion to the purple andblue.But thecoldpraiseof thetwinwasnotunnaturallysetdownbyherfamilyascomingfromamean,unworthymotive.

“Sheisasjealousasacat!”exclaimedLucius;“Agnescan’t forgivepoorDoraforhavingbeen trustedwith themostdifficultpartofthework.”

TheirritabletemperofAgnesfiredupinamomentatan observation which she felt to be unjust as well asunkind. But Agnes on that Monday morning had notmerelysaidherprayers,shehadreallyprayedforgracetoconquerbesettingsin,andnow,thoughshecouldnothelphercheeksflushingscarletatthetauntofherbrother,she

pressed her lips closely together, and kept down thepassionatereplywhichitwassohard,soveryhard,nottoutter.

“Howmuchofyourworkhaveyoudonethismorning,Agnes?” asked Elsie, rather proudly, showing her ownthreeinchesofseamintheTurkey-redcloth.

“Ihavecutoutmymohaircurtains,”saidAgnes,whohad also, though she did not choose to say so, beenmendingher gloves, in obedience to the knownwish ofhermother.

“Cut out—only cut out?” laughed Lucius, who hadbeen doing great things in the nailing and hammeringline; “ifyou take thematter soeasily,Agnes, everyonewill cut you out, though you may not be made intocurtains!”

Agneswasprovokedat the joke, andall themore sobecauseDoraandElsielaughed,andAmycouldnothelpsmiling. Few persons like to be laughed at, and thepeevish-temperedAgneswascertainlynotoneofthefew.But the girl hadmade a resolve, not in vain trust in herown power of carrying it out, but in a spirit of humbleprayer,tosetawatchbeforeherlips;andifshecouldnotspeakkindly,nottoutterasingleword.Agnescouldnot,indeed, yet manage to take a disagreeable joke with

smiling good humor, but she bore it in resolute silence,shedidnotutteranyretort.

No one admired Agnes Temple, no one praised herself-command:shewasthoughtlazybecauseshehadnoteagerly rushed into an occupation inwhich she took noparticular pleasure, and for which she knew that shewould find plenty of time without neglecting morehomelyduties; shewas thought jealousbecause shehadsimply spoken the truth; and yet on that dayAgnes hadbegunanoblerworkthanthatofembroideringinpurpleandgold,andherofferingwasafarmoreacceptableonethanthatofwhichDorawasproud.

XV.DifferentMotives.

“WHAT a busy, cheerful little party!” exclaimed Mrs.Temple,assheenteredthestudyontheafternoonofthatsame day, and found all her children sitting together,sewing, cutting, gilding, and chatting merrily as theyworked. “You remind me of the busy, happy sceneoutside Jerusalem, beheld every year when the Feast ofTabernacleswaskept.”

“What was the Feast of Tabernacles, mamma?”inquired Amy. Lucius would have asked the samequestion,buthedarednot speakat thatmoment lest hisbreath should blow away the sheet of gold-leaf withwhichhewastryingtocoverhiswires.

“The Feast of Tabernacleswas a yearly festival heldbytheIsraelitesinremembranceofthetimespentbytheirfathers in tabernacles or tents in the desert,” replied thelady. “This was themost cheerful of all the feasts, andwas kept in a remarkable manner. The people madebooths for themselves of the branches of palm, willow,andothertrees,andforsevendayslivedinthesebooths.

There were processions, glad hosannas, and sounds ofsinging andmirth. The people enjoyed their out-of-doorlife,andblessedtheLordforHisgoodnessinguidingtheIsraelites through the wilderness to the good land inwhichtheirchildrennowdwelt.”

“One could hardly keep such a feast in England,”observedAgnes,glancingoutof thewindowat thegrayskyandthedrippingtrees,whichweredimlyreflectedinthepoolsleftbythemorning’srain.

“I think that living in green leafy booths would bedelightful in summer, even in England!” exclaimedLucius,whohadmanaged to fixhisgold-leaf. “I shouldhave liked, had I been a Jew, to have kept the Feast ofTabernacles—betterperhapsthantohavehelpedtomakethismodelTabernacle,”addedtheboy,who,afterseveralhoursof steadywork,wasbeginning to feel rather tired.“Ishouldmuchpreferhewingdownbranches,anddoingthe rough carpentering part of the business, to gildingthese tiresome, fidgetywires,which I am sure to ungildagainassoonasIattempttofixthemintotheirframe.”

“What, you are weary of your work already!”exclaimedDora,asshepausedinhersewingtothreadherneedle.

“Notexactlywearyofitnow,”answeredLucius,“butI

guessthatIshallbesolongbeforethismodelisfinished.It is all verywell,” he continued, taking up his knife tohack away at some stubborn pasteboard—“it is all verywelltomakepillarsandcurtainswhiletheskyiscloudy,andtherainfallsfast,andIamkeptprisonerathome;butsuppose that the rain shouldstop,and the sunshineout,and the weather become settled at last, wouldn’t everyoneofuslikerunningaboutinthefieldsallday,playingatcricket,orcroquet,or rounders,better thanmeasuringand cutting and——there! snap goesmy knife,my newknife!”andwithagestureofimpatiencetheboyflungtheunmanageablepasteboarddownonthetable.

Therewasmuchto justify thesuspicionexpressedbyLucius that the work so eagerly begun by the Templeswould,beforeitcouldbefinished,becomeaburdenandataxuponthepatienceofall.Ontheverynextdaybeganaseasonofwarmthandsunshine,whichdidmoretodriveawaycoughsandrestorevigortolateinvalidsthancouldalltheskillofthedoctor.EvenAgneswasabletospendhours in the open air; and, except at mealtimes, Luciuslikedtobeoutalltheday.Hisfidgetywork,ashecalledit,couldscarcelybedonebutindoors,andtheboyfounditagrievoustask.

“Butitwouldbeashamenottogoonwiththemodelnow, after putting mamma to so much trouble and

expense,” observed Lucius one morning to Dora.“Besides, I engaged to do it, and no English boy mustflinchbackfromkeepinghisword.ThenewknifewhichIboughtyesterdayisnottobecomparedtothatwhichIsounluckily snapped over the pasteboard; but I must hackawaysteadily,andshowagoodexampletothatlazypussElsie, who since the fine weather began has not putanotherstitchintoherTurkey-redcurtains.”

“She has stowed them away in her doll’s cradle,”observedDora,laughing.

Mrs.Templewasnotsurprisedtofindthatthemakingofthemodelnowprogressedmoreslowly;shewasratherpleased tosee theamountofperseveranceshownbyherchildrenafterthecharmofnoveltyhadwornoff.Eventhe“lazy puss” drew her work from its hiding-place, andwould sew—for five minutes at a time—“just to pleasedearmamma.”All the five Temples continued towork,when work had ceased to be an amusement; but theyworked from differentmotives. Thosewhich influencedLucius—amanly, honorable boy—have beenmentionedalready, as well as the simple wish to please motherwhichmadeElsieprickherplumplittlefingerunderherTurkey-redcloth.But ifyoucouldglance into theheartsof the three other girls as they sit together industriouslyplying their needles,we should find an example of how

theverysameeffectmaybeproducedbydifferentcauses.

Amy had from the very first considered her humblework as something tobedone for herHeavenlyMaster,and this sweet thoughtmade her take pleasure in labor,whichwithout it would have beenwearisome indeed. ItwasthisthoughtwhichmadeAmyputfinehemmingandstitching into the long strips of white lawn whichrepresentedthelinencurtainssurroundingthecourtoftheTabernacle, and even unpick any portion which did notseemtohertobesewnneatlyenough.Amytriedtogiveherbest,herverybestwork,becauseshewasgivingittotheLord,andsomeofthehappiesthourswhichthelittlegirleverhadknownwerespentoverhertediouscurtains.

“Icannotthink,Amy,howyoucangoonsopatientlywithwhatissotiresome,withnovarietyinit,andakindofworkwhichwill not look strikingwhen all is done,”exclaimedDoraoneday,as sheunrolledsomeglitteringgoldthreadfromherreel.

Amysmiledassheglancedupathersister’sfarmoreamusingoccupation.“IfIcouldhaveworkedanythingsoprettyas theveilwhichyouaremaking, Idaresay that Ishould have liked itmuch better,” she observed. “But Iampleased todo theplainworkaswell as I can, as theembroiderywouldhavebeenfartoodifficultforme.”

Amy’scurtainsmight seemplain to theeyesofmostpeople, but her mother looked upon them with specialpleasure; for,asshesaid toherself,“theyareembroidedalloverwithfaithandlove.”

Agnes also made steady progress with her not veryinviting work, though she took in it no great pleasure.Agnes regarded the sewing as a matter of duty, andtherefore plied her needle in the same spirit as that inwhichshestruggledtosubduehertemper,andtriedtoputa bridle onher tongue. Itwas theworkwhichhadbeengiventoher,andshewoulddoit,withoutaskingherselfwhethershelikeditornot.

“Thismaterial,neithersmoothnorpretty,issomethinglikeatypeofme,”thoughtAgnes,assheputthefinishingstitchintooneofhermohaircurtains;“butthegoats’-hairhadjustasmuchitsappointedplaceintheTabernacleasloops of silver and sockets of gold. I shall never be asmuchlikedandadmiredasDorais—Imayaswellmakeupmymindtothat;butifGodhelpmebyHisgrace,Itoomay lead a useful life, and be dear—at least to mymother.”

AndmoreandmoredearwasAgnesbecomingtohermother,whowatchedwith thekeen eyeof affection thestrugglemadebyhereldestdaughteragainstherbesettingsins.Mrs. Temple guessedwhat it costAgnes to bear a

rough joke in silence, to lend pretty things which shefearedthat theborrowermightspoil, togiveupherownway, and to show no jealous anger when another waspreferredbeforeher.

“Mygirl’s character is becoming stronger and noblerevery day,” thoughtMrs.Temple; “I thank theLord formy Agnes, for I am sure that it is His grace that isworking in her heart.Agnespromises to growup into areallyvaluablewoman,onewhomhermothercantrust.”

Mrs. Temple could not have said as much for herdearlylovedDora.Theladywasperplexedandpainedtofeel that something—she knew not what it could be—seemedtohavecomebetweenherandherbright,clever,affectionate child. Dora, indeed, gave Mrs. Temple nocausetofindfaultwithherconduct;herlessonswerewelllearned,hertemperwasgood,shewasafavoritestillwithherbrotherandsisters;andyethermotherfelt that therewas a change in her Dora for which she could notaccount. Mrs. Temple was wont to have little quietconversations separately with each of her children atnight: in these meetings they were able to open theirheartsmore freely to theirmother than they could havedone had a third person been present, and their parentcouldspeakuponreligioussubjectsinthewaybestsuitedto the character and age of each. These quiet moments

spent alonewithmamma had been greatly prized by allthe children; but Dora could take pleasure in them nomore, and her parent was conscious that such was thecase. The girl generally managed, only too easily, toforgetallaboutherunrepentedsinwhentheremembranceof it was not forced upon her now half-deadenedconscience,butwhenhermother satbyherbedsideandsoftly talked to her about heaven, Dora grew uneasy inspirit. She did not like to be reminded of the holyGodwhose law she had broken—what pleasure could theknowledgeofHistruthbringtoonewhowasconsciousofunrepentedfalsehood!ThereturnsofSundays,nay,eventhehourforfamilyprayer,wereneverwelcometoDora.When she repeated texts or hymns, as the rest of thefamily did, she had thewretched consciousness that shewasactingahypocrite’spart, and takingGod’sname invain.Dora’slifewasbecomingonelongactofdeceit.Shewas secretly ashamed of herself for appearing so muchbetterthansheinrealitywas.

“Butmywork—mybeautifulwork—myworkforthepoor—I’llmake up forwhat I’ve donewrong by takingextrapainswiththat!”thoughtDora.Andsothepoorgirlusually succeeded in winning much praise from others,andindeceivingherownsinfulheart,onlytoowillingtobethusdeceived.

XVI.TheHigh-Priest.

“THEREisonethingwhichwecan’tdo,itistoohardforeven Dora,” observed Elsie one morning at breakfast,when, as was often the case, the Children’s Tabernaclehad formed a topic of conversation. “We can’t makemodels of the Ark, or the Altar, or the Table ofShowbread;ourprettycurtainswon’tcoveranything,theTabernaclewillbequiteempty!”

“I really could not undertake to do more than I amdoing,evenifmyfingerscouldmanagetomakesuchtinymodels,” said Lucius, who, as we have seen, alreadyfoundthathehadengagedinadifficulttask.

Agnes, Dora, andAmywere silent; they all felt thattherewouldcertainlybeagreatwantintheirTabernacle,but they did not see how that want could possibly besupplied.

The young Temples little guessed that while theirmotherwasinherownroom,engaged,astheysupposed,in reading or writing, or making up her household

accounts,shewaspreparingforthemapleasantsurprise.Mrs.Templewasnotlesswithherfamilythanusual,shedidnotneglectherhouseaffairs, shenever forgoteitherto order the dinner or to pay the butcher and baker, butshestole time forhernovelemployment fromher sleep,and from her favorite amusement of reading librarybooks.

Onthedaywhenthemodelwascompleted,whenthelast silver socket had been fastened, and the last littlecurtainhemmed, thechildrenhad thepleasureof settingup the Tabernacle in the study, to see how it looked.There was great satisfaction in surveying the finishedwork;everyonefeltgladthatthelonglaborwasover,andthathehadhadashareinthework.

“Howpleasedauntiewillbe!”criedElsie.

“Andtheraggedchildren,too,”joinedinAmy.

“Andnowgoout foryourwalk,mydearones,” saidtheirmother;“themorningissofrostyandbrightthatyoumaymakeyourwalkalongone;Ishouldnotbesurprisedshould youwander as far asBurnleywoods. I shall notexpectyoubackforacoupleofhours.”

“Mother,youwillgowithus,”saidLucius.

“Iwill beparticularly engaged thismorning,” replied

Mrs.Temple, as she shook her headwith a smile. Elsieremarkedafterwardsthatithadbeen“aknowingkindofsmile,” as if there hadbeen somevery particular reasonindeed for her mamma’s stopping at home. The reasonwasclearenoughtoallthepartywhentheyreturnedfromtheirwalk, andwith their cheeks rosy from the freshairandexercisere-enteredthestudy.Thechildrenfoundtheirmotherstandingbesidethemodel.Elsie,whowasthefirsttorunuptoit,gavealmostascreamofdelight.

“Oh!see—seewhatmammahasbeenmaking!Clevermamma!”shecried,clappingherhands,andjumpingforjoy.

“What lovely little models!” exclaimed Lucius.“Mother,itisyouwhohavecutusallout.”

“You have done what none of us could have done,”saidAgnes.

“Andsoquietlytoo,”observedDora.

“There is nothingwanting now!” criedAmy, puttingher arm fondly around the parent who had so kindlyenteredintothelittlepleasuresofherchildren.

“Ithoughtthatonethingmorewaswanting,”saidMrs.Temple.Theladyseatedherselfbesidethetable,andtookoffthecoverofalittlepasteboardboxwhichsheheldin

herhand.Thechildren lookedonwithmingledcuriosityandpleasureastheirmothercarefullydrewoutfromitabeautiful little figure about two inches long, exquisitelydressed inminiature garments, representing thosewhichwereworn by the high-priest of Israel. To imitate thesegarmentsinasizesosmall,hadtaxedtheutmostskilloftheingeniousandneat-fingeredlady.

Ineednotsetdownalltheexclamationsofwonderandpleasurewhichwere uttered by the youngerTemples. Iftheir mother’s great object had been to gratify herchildren,thatobjectwascertainlyattained.

“ThedresswhichIhavetriedtoimitate,”saidthelady,“is that in which the high-priest appeared on solemnoccasions. The Day of Atonement was, however, anexception;onthatmostsolemndayintheyear,whenthehigh-priestventuredintotheHolyofholies,hedidsoinsimplegarmentsofpurewhitelinen.”

Themother then showedandexplained toher familythe different articles of dress on her curiousmodel.Theunder-tunic,orshirt,of linen,andaboveit themantleofsky-bluecolor,havingatthebottomanornamentalborderorfringe.

“This fringe,which, asyou see, Ihavecutout in theformoftinypomegranates,oughttobeinterspersedwith

bells of gold,” saidMrs.Temple; “butmy fingers couldnotsucceedinmakinganythingsoveryminute.”

“Andunlesswehadlookedthroughamicroscope,wecouldnothavedistinguishedbellsnobiggerthanneedles’eyes,”observedLucius.

“Andwhatisthisfineuppermostgarment,reachingtothe knees?” inquired Dora, looking admiringly on thedelicate embroidery in gold and colors similar to thatwhich she had herselfworked for theVeil, only a greatdealfiner.

“This is the Ephod,” replied Mrs. Temple. “On thefrontofitIhave,asyousee,workedinverysmallbeadsof various colors an imitation of the high-priest’sbreastplate,whichwasformedoftwelvepreciousstones.”

Theminutebreastplateexcitedmoreattentionthananyother part of the high-priest’s dress, and had, perhaps,given the skilful worker more trouble than all the rest.Everyoneofthelittlebeadswasofadifferenttint.Theywerecloselyset together inrows,soas toformasquareornament,andwere fastened to theshoulderpartsof theEphodbylittlethreadsofgold.

“How very splendid the real breastplate must havebeen!”exclaimedDoraTemple.

“Haditalsosometypicalmeaning?”askedLucius.“Isuppose so,” he added, “as everything about theTabernacleandthehigh-priestseemstohavebeenatypeofsomethinggreater.”

“On each of the precious stones in the splendidbreastplatewasinscribedthenamesofoneof thetwelvetribesofIsrael,”repliedMrs.Temple.“Ibelieve that thebreastplatewaswornbythehigh-priest,whowastoprayin the Tabernacle for the people, and then to comeforward and bless them, as a token that he bore theirnamesonhisheart.”

“Oh, that is a beautiful meaning!” cried Amy;“especiallywhenwe think,” she continued,more softly,“that the high-priest was a type of our blessed SaviourHimself.”

“Who bears all His people’s names on his heart,”observedMrs.Temple;“bothwhenHepleadsfortheminheaven,andwhenHeblessesthemuponearth.”

“The high-priest must have looked very noble andgrandinhisrichgarments,”observedLucius;“andyetitseems toomuch honor for anymereman to be called atypeoftheSonofGod.”

“Ah,myboy!poorandmeanindeedmustanyearthly

type appear when compared to the heavenly Antitype!”exclaimedMrs.Temple. “That thought came strongly tomymind as Iwas sewing together these littleworthlessglassbeadstoformthemodelofthegloriousbreastplate.‘Can thesewretched littleatomsofcoloredglass,’ Isaidtomyself,‘giveanyideaofmagnificentjewels,sparklinginlight,setingold,andeachengravedwithaname?’Butevensomean,andsmall,andinsignificantwasAaron,inallhissplendor,comparedtothesacredBeingwhodeignstocallHimselfourHigh-Priest,andtomakeintercessionforusabove!”

Allthepartyweresilentforseveralmoments,lookingdownat the littlemodel, and thinkingover thewordsoftheirmother.Elsiethenpointedtothecurioushead-dresswhichappearedonthefigure.Itwasnotexactlyaturban,though it was formed of tight rolls of linen. It had therepresentationofaplateofgoldinfront,fastenedontoitbyabluethread.

“That head-dress is called the high-priest’s bonnet ormitre,”observedMrs.Temple.“Thereareratherdifferentopinionsregardingitsexactshape.Itcostmeagooddealof thought to contrive it, and here again I felt howimpossibleitistogiveanythinglikeajustideaoftherealobjectinamodelsosmallasthis.YouseethatIhavenotneglected to put a little gold plate on the front of the

mitre;butIhadnopowertoformletterssominuteastorepresentonitwhatwasengravedonthatwhichthehigh-priestwore.Thiswas‘HOLINESSTOTHELORD.’”

“Then the high-priest had the Lord’s Name writtenoverhis brow,”observedAgnes. “Itmakesone thinkofthepromiseintheBible,thatsaintsinheavenshallhaveHisNamewrittenontheirforeheads.”(Rev.xxii.4.)

“All will be ‘Holiness to the Lord’ in that happyplace!”observedAmy.

Itwas pleasanter toDora to examine the littlemodelbefore her, and to admire and praise hermother’s skill,thantothinkofwhatwasinscribedonthemitrewornbyAaron andhis successors. It is the sad, sad effect of sinconcealedintheheart, that itkeepsthosewhoindulgeitfromdaringeventowishtobeholy.

TheTabernaclewasnowcarefully takendown,piecebypiece,tobepackedinabox,readytobecarriedalongwiththerestoftheirluggagewhenthefamilyshouldquittheir home for awhile. Every curtain was neatly folded,and all the pillars carefully wrapped up in paper. Thefigure representing the high-priest was gently put backintoitsownlittlebox,andalltheotherlittleobjectswerepacked in cotton, so as to bear without injury a littlejoltingonthejourneybeforethem.

With additional pleasure the young Temples nowlooked forward to thecomingChristmasseason,and thelong-expectedvisitwhichtheyweretopaytotheirAuntTheodora.

XVII.TheBirthdayGifts.

SEVERALmonthshavepassedawaysince theTemplesbeganmakingtheirmodeloftheTabernacleofIsrael.Theleaveswhichwere thengreenon the trees,havebecomeyellow, have faded and fallen; save those on theevergreens,whichwearasilvercrustingoffrost.ButitisnottoCedarLodgethatIshalltakemyyoungreaders,butto a large and rather plain brick house in the city ofChester. It is a house by nomeans beautiful to the eye,and its only look-out is into a narrow paved street; butstillthathousehasacharmofitsown,itisdeartomanyaheart, for its owner,Miss Theodora Clare, is the friendandbenefactressof thepooraround.Manyhaveenteredsadlythroughthedarkgreendoorofthatred-brickhouse,who have left it cheerfully, blessing the kind heart andliberalhandofitslady.

It is just two days before Christmas: on the morrowMissClare’sRaggedSchoolistohaveitsannualtreat.Afeastandgiftsofwarmsocksormittensknittedforeachchildbythelady’sownhands,arenottoformtheonly,or

perhapsthechiefattractionsofthetreat;thelittlescholarshave been promised a sight of the model Tabernacle,which its youngmakers are to bring from their countryhome, about ten miles away. Christmas Eve has beenfixed upon by Miss Clare as the time for her RaggedSchoolFête,becauseitisthebirthdayofhertwinnieces,theyoungerofwhomishernamesake.ThearrivaloftheTemplefamilyisexpectedalmosteveryminute,andMissClare sits by the window, with the red glow of aDecember sun upon her, glancing up with a look ofpleasant expectation whenever she hears the rattle ofwheelsalongthenarrowpavedstreet.YoumightguessatoncebythelikenessbetweenthemthatMissClareisthesisterofMrs.Temple, thoughher figure isa little taller,andherlocksalittlewhiterthanthoseofthewidowlady.

Miss Clare is evidently thinking; she looks a littleperplexedanddoubtfulassheexaminesthecontentsofalarge old-fashioned ebony box which holds her littletreasures.Nottreasuresofsilverorgold;therearebutfewindeed of such things in the possession of TheodoraClare: her silver spoons have fed the hungry; her goldchain has paid for the benches on which her raggedscholars sit, and her bracelets for the books which theylearn from, and the big blackboard on thewall.A goodmany pairs of stout little shoes have come out of MissClare’ssilvertea-pot!Butthereisonearticleofjewellery

whichtheladystillpossesses,andthisistoherthemostprecious of all. It is the likeness of her sister, Mrs.Temple, inabrooch,setroundwithpearls.ThiswasthegiftofMr.Templeonhiswedding-daytothebridesmaid,Theodora; it is very beautiful as an ornament, and as alikenessalmostperfect.Butnoteven this jeweldoes thegenerous lady intend to keep for herself; it is to be herbirthdaypresentonthefollowingdaytoDora.

MissClarehasforyearssettled inherownmindthather god-daughter should receive the precious brooch oncompletingthetwelfthyearofherage;itisnodoubtuponthis subject that perplexes her now; (for the lady doeslook a little perplexed as she searches her old-fashionedbox for something which she seems to have somedifficulty in finding). She opens this little packet, thenthat little packet, then silently shakes her head, ormurmurs“No, thatwillnotdo,”asshereplaces it in thelargebox.The readerknows thatDorahasa twinsister,andthatthebirthdayoftheoneisalsothebirthdayoftheother.Miss Clare does not like to give toDorawithoutalso giving to Agnes, and as her hospitality and hercharities leavehervery littlemoneyforbuyingpresents,she wishes to find some suitable article already in herpossession of which to make a birthday remembrance.Butwhat should that article be?Almost everything thatwouldpleaseayounggirlhadalreadybeengivenaway.

“I have nothing—nothing that can be compared invalue or in beautywith the brooch,” saidMissClare toherself,asshelockedtheboxwhereshehadbeenvainlysearching amongst locks of hair neatly wrapped inseparate papers, old letters, and little pictures faded andyellowwithtime.“IhopethatAgnesistoosensibleagirlto expect that my precious brooch should be given toherselfinsteadoftomynamesake,whoistomealmostasadaughter;butstillAgnesistheelderofthetwins;sheis,Ifear,ofratherajealoustemper;hercharacterhasnot—or had not a year ago—the generosity and sweetness ofthatofmyDora. Ishouldbegrievedtohurt thefeelingsofeitherofthedeargirls;whatcanIfindthatwillreallypleaseAgnes?”

MissClarehadreallygiventhesubjectagooddealofconsideration,thoughapparentlytolittlepurpose,whenathought occurred to hermindwhich brought a smile ofsatisfaction to her kind pleasant face. Miss Clare rosefromherseatby thewindow,andwent toa tablewhichhad in it a drawer, hidden by the neat brown cloth thathungoverthesides.Theladyliftedthecloth,drewopenthedrawer,andthentookfromitaflatparcelwrappedinapeculiarkindofyellowishpaper,withthatscentaboutitwhich usually pervades articles which have come fromIndia.

“Here is the delicate little embroidered neck-scarfwhichwassenttomeyearsago,andwhichIhavealwaysthoughtmuchtoofineformywear,”saidthelady,assheopenedtheparcel.“Thiswillofcoursebeagiftnottobecomparedtothebrooch;butstillitispretty,verypretty;IthinkthatAgnesissuretoadmireit.”

It was indeed impossible not to admire the exquisiteembroidery ingoldandcolorson thesmall India-muslinscarf.ThenativesofIndiaexcelinthiskindofwork,andthelittlescarfwasagemofbeautyforrichnessofpatternand brightness of hue. Miss Clare’s only doubt waswhether such an article of dresswere not too gay to begiventoheryoungniece.

MissClarehadlittletimetothinkoverthismatter,forhardly had she put back the pretty piece of embroideryintoitspaperwrapping,andthenreplaceditinthedrawer,whentherattleofwheelswasheardonthestones,andalarge carriage, well filled within, and with plenty ofluggage without, was driven up to the door.WellMissClare knew the smiling eager faces which crowded thecarriage window, and the merry young voices whichsounded through the clear coldwinter air. The lady ranhurriedly tomeetandwelcometheparty,andwasat theopendoor,notwithstanding thecoldof frostyDecember,beforeMrs.Templeandherfivechildrencouldmanageto

getoutofthecarriageinwhichtheyhadbeentoocloselypacked for comfort, but in which they had been verynoisy andmerry.All trace ofwhooping coughhad longsince departed, and the soundswhichhadbeenheard inthecarriagehadbeenonlythoseoftalking,laughing,andsinging!

XVIII.TheArrival.

“MIND,coachman,mind!Youmusthanddownthatboxverycarefully!”shoutedoutLuciustothedriver,whowasnow engaged in taking down the luggage. The boy hadbeenthefirstofthepartytospringoutofthecarriage,buthe was the last to enter the house, for all his thoughtsseemed to be taken up by the long, flat deal boxwhichhadbeenputunderthespecialcareofthecoachman,withmanyacharge tosee thatnoharmshouldcome to it onthejourney.Hadtheboxbeenacradlecontainingababy,it could hardly have been more gently and carefullyreceivedfromthecoachman’shands,andthencarriedupthedoor-stepsandintothered-brickhousebyLucius.Didit not hold the result of the labor ofmanyweeks!—wastherenotinittheworkcompletedbythefamily’sunitedefforts,thebeautifulmodeloftheTabernaclemadebythechildrenofIsrael!

“Oh, auntie, here is our great work—our model!Whereshallwesetitup?Haveyouatableready?Itisallfinished—everyloop!Oh,youmustseeit!youmustsee

it!” Such were the exclamations which burst from thechildren as Lucius appeared in the hall, laden with thelong,flatdealbox.

MissClarehadnotyetseenthemodel,thoughshehadheardagreatdealaboutit,andhadgivennoticetomanyfriendsandneighborsofthelittleexhibitionofit,[B]tobeheld in her house through the following week, for thebenefit of her school. She was amused at the eagerimpatience shown by the youthful workers. ExceptAgnes, who took the matter more quietly, none of theTemples cared even towarm themselves by the blazingfireaftertheirwintryjourneyuntilthemodelTabernaclehadbeenunpackedfromitsbox.

“Please, auntie, please don’t look at it till it’s all setup!”exclaimedElsie,inatoneofentreaty.“Youcantalkto mamma, you know, while we are unrolling the littlecurtains (I did the Turkey-red curtains)—and fasteningthemuponthegildedpillarsbytheweeweeloopswhicharemadeofsilverthread!”

MissClarewasquitewilling to indulge thehumorofheryoungguests, so that shedidnoteven remain in theroomwhiletheTabernaclewasbeingputuponthetableset apart for the purpose. She took her sister, Mrs.Temple,up-stairs,andhelpedhertotakeoffhercloakandfurs, and talked overmany subjects with her, while the

young people below were busily engaged with theirmodel.Itwasnotuntilnearlytwohourshadelapsed,andafter thepartyhadall partakenof adinnerof roastbeefand plum-pudding, that Miss Clare re-entered her ownsitting-roomtohaveherfirstsightofthewonderfulwork.

For wonderful it was in the eyes of its youthfulcontrivers,whoknewthe troublewhich ithadcost themtofinishandfixthosenumerouspillarsandcurtains,withsocketsandloops.TheTemplesregardedtheirmodelasatriumphofartandpatience,muchasthebuilderofoneofthePyramidsmayhave regardedhisowngiganticwork.Miss Clare was expected to look and feel a good dealmoreastonishedthanshecouldinsinceritydo;butifshewasnotastonished,atleastshewaspleased,andshowedthatshewasso.

“It’s a pity, auntie, that you can’t see more of myTurkey-red curtains; I wish they’d been the top ones,”criedElsie, liftingupacornerof themerinocovering toshowherownworkbeneath.

“TheselinencurtainsroundthecourtoftheTabernacleareneatly,veryneatlymade,”observedMissClare;“withsomanysilverloopstheymusthaverequiredagreatdealofpatienceintheworker.”

Amycoloredwithpleasure at thepraise; shehadnot

expected her own share of the work to attract muchnotice.Shenowsilentlydrewher aunt’s attention to thepretty little gilded pillars upon which her curtains werehung.

“But the beauty part—the real beauty part—is the’broidery, the inner curtains, and the veil!” exclaimedElsie. “Oh, auntie, you will be astonished at them. Juststoopdownandlookin—justlookin!We’vemanagedtoleave thefrontopen,and theveil ishalf-drawnaside,sothatyoucan see the innerpartquitewell.Noonecouldsee the inner part of the realTabernacle, youknow;butthenoursisonlyamodel.”

Theladystooped,asrequested,andlookedthroughthespace between the front pillars, not only into the outerTabernacle,butbeyond theveil intowhat, in themodel,representedtheHolyofholies.Dora,whohadformonthsbeenlookingforwardtothismoment, listenedeagerlytohearwhatherdarlingauntwouldsayofherwork.

MissClare, itwillbe remembered,had thatdaybeenexaminingalovelyspecimenofsomeofthemostfinishedembroidery tobe found inanypartof theworld.Dora’swork was clever, regarded as that of a girl not twelveyearsofage,whohadhadtocontriveherownpattern;butit was, of course, very poor compared to that on theIndianscarf.

“Is it not splendid ’broidery?” persisted Elsie, whowishedotherstoshareherownunboundedadmirationfortheworkofafavoritesister.

“Itisnice,”saidAuntTheodora,quietly,“butwantsalittlemorescarlet,Ithink.”

Andwas thisall thatcouldbesaidof thatwhichhadcost Dora hours of thought, and many hours of patientlabor—these few words of qualified praise! Dora wasbitterly disappointed, farmore disappointed thanAgnes,whosecurtains,whethermohairormerino,seemedtowinnonoticeatall.TherewasgoodreasonwhyDorashouldfeel pain whichAgnes was spared. It was not time andlabor only which the younger twin had given to gainsuccess;shehadmadeasacrificeofconscience,shehadforfeitedherownself-respect,shehadlosttheblessingofconfidentialintercoursewithhermother,andallpleasureandcomfortinprayer!Dorahadgivenupallthis,andforwhat? To hear the observation, by no means unkindlyuttered,“Itisnice,butwantsalittlemorescarlet.”

If Dora had ever believed that in working herembroidery she had really been laboring for anythinghigherthanearthlypleasureorhumanpraise,theextremevexation which she now experienced must surely haveundeceived her.Why should she care somuch forwhatwassaidofherperformanceifherrealobjectwasbutto

please herHeavenlyMaster?Agnes andAmy,who hadworked frommotives of duty and love, were safe fromany such keen disappointment. They both looked withpleasureonthecompletedmodel, informingwhichtheyhad taken inferior parts; while Dora had to walk to thewindow to hide from the eyes of her family themortificationwhichshefelt.

Thatdaywasaveryhappyonetoall themembersoftheTemple family,Doraaloneexcepted.She felt akindofdreadoftheeveningconversationwhichsheknewthatshewouldhavewithheraunt.TheeveofherlastbirthdayDora remembered as, perhaps, the happiest time of herlife.AuntTheodorahadcometositwithher,andtalktoher of her coming birthday—a new milestone, as shecalledit,onthepilgrim’spathtowardsheaven.Dorahadonthateveningopenedherhearttoheraunt,andthetwohad loved each other more fondly than they ever hadlovedbefore,andtheirpartingembracehadbeensosweetthat Dora had felt that she could never forget it. MissClare was certain to come again this evening into herroom—in this houseDora had a little room to herself—andmust thenieceact thehypocrite’spart toanauntsolovingandtrue;mustthegirlsotrustedandlovedmakeashowofopennesswhileconcealingasecretfromheraunt,which, if confessed, must lower her in the eyes of thattenderrelativeandfriend?

Miss Clare did indeed come that night, as Dora hadexpected that she would come. The girl soon foundherself sitting on a stool with her arms resting on heraunt’sknee,astheyhadrestedtwelvemonthsbefore;andshe heard the same dear voice speaking to her of holythings, as shehadheardon thatwell-rememberednight.The roomwas the same, the furniture, thepictureswereall the same, butDora felt in her ownheart amiserablechange.Halfadozentimeswasthepoorgirlonthepointoflayingherheadonheraunt’sknee,andsobbingforthafullconfessiontorelieveherburdenedheart.But toownrepeated falsehood and long deceit to one herself sotruthful,tolosethegoodopinionofonewhoseregardshesogreatlyvalued,oh!Doracouldnotmusterupcouragesufficientforthis!

“And now that you are making a new start in life’sjourney, my child,” such were the aunt’s concludingwords as she rose to depart, “give yourself anew to thebest of Masters, the most tender of Friends. Ask Hisblessing upon all that you do: without that blessing ourbest works are but like building on sand, or writing onwater—allendinvanityandvexationofspirit.ThegreatlessontaughtusbythehistoryofancientIsraelisthis:thepathofobedienceisthepathofsafetyandhappinessalso.WhenGod’speoplefollowedwhereHeled,anddidwhatHecommanded,thenweretheirheartsfilledwithjoy,and

theirharps tunedtogladsongsof triumph;butwhentheIsraelites turned aside to paths of disobedience, sorrowfollowed close upon sin; they hung their harps on thewillows,and,exiles from their beautiful land, theyweptwhen they remembered the blessings which would stillhavebeentheirs,hadtheynotforsakentheirGod!”

FOOTNOTE:

[B]A.L.O.E. remembersattending,many years ago, exactly such anexhibition at the house of a friend, of amodelof theTabernaclemadebya ladyand her children for some charitablepurpose.

XIX.Disappointment.

The birthday of the twins had arrived; but the sun riseslateonthetwenty-fourthofDecember,andDorawasup,dressingbycandlelight,longbeforehisfirstbeamsshoneonthesheetofpurewhitesnowwhichhadfallenduringthe night. It might be supposed that Dora’s thoughtswouldbeonthewordsofadvicewhichshehadheardonthe previous night; but though these words had madesome impression at the time, it was by no means uponthemthatthegirl’smindwasrunningwhensheawokeinthemorning.Dorawas thinkingofherembroiderywork—thatwork ofwhich she had been so proud, thatworkwhichhadcosthersodear.NothingthatMissClarehadsaid dwelt so much on the memory of her niece as thesimple observation, “It wants a little more scarlet, Ithink.”

Foron themantelpieceof the roomnowoccupiedbyDora, there chanced to stand a glass bottle, corked andlabelled;andbythelightofhercandleDorahadnoticedthat“SCARLET INK”wasprintedupon the label.Thesight

ofthatlittlebottlehadrousedinthemindofthegirlnewhopes, andagain turnedher energies into thechannelofwork.

“Mysupplyofscarletsilkranshort,andIwasnotabletogetanotherskeinattheshop,”thoughtDora.“Auntisquiteright, thereisnotenoughofscarletmixedwiththepurple and blue; it is thatwhich spoils the effect ofmycurtains. Iwonder thatnoonenoticed thatbefore!But Ihaveaskeinofwhitesilkwithme,andwhyshouldInotdye it myself with that beautiful scarlet ink? This is acapital idea! The school children do not come till theafternoon; I should have time to dye my silk beforebreakfast,andafterbreakfasttoworkenoughscarletintomypatterntogiveabrillianteffecttoallthatpartwhichismosteasilyseen.HowpleasedAuntTheodorawillbetofindthatIhavetakenherhint,andthatIgrudgenoextratroubletomakemyworkcomplete!Howveryluckyitisthatsheputthatinkintomyroom!”

DoraactuallyforgotbothherprayersandherScripturereadingonthatbirthdaymorning,inherimpatiencetogetdown-stairsandquietlyremoveherinnerveilandcurtainsfrom themodel, before any othermember of the familyshouldentertheroomwhereitwaskept.Withroughhair,anddressonlyhalf-buttoned,Doranoiselesslyopenedherdoor, and then crept down the staircase, and into the

sitting-roominwhichtheTabernaclestood,coveredfromthedustbylargesheetsofsilverpaper.Therewasnooneintheroomexceptthehousemaid,whowasemployedinopeningtheshutterstoletinthelightofmorning.

The model, as we know, was made to be taken topieces at will; but as Dora’s set of curtains was theinnermost of all, it cost her some time and trouble toremove them. She pursued her occupation, while thehousemaid went on with that of lighting the fire anddusting the room, andwas at last able to disengage thewhole of the embroidered portion of the drapery of thelittle Tabernacle. With this Dora returned to her ownapartment,andshelaidherworkontheprettylittletablewhichheraunthadplacedforherconvenience.

“I must be quick about the dyeing,” said Dora toherself, “for I can hearLuciuswhistling up-stairs in thepassage, and little Elsie running about in the room justovermyhead.Thefamilyisnowallastir,andinaquarterofanhourtheprayer-bellwillring.IfIdon’tdyemysilkscarletatonceIshallbesadlydelayedinmywork,forIcannot, of course, use it for sewing until it is perfectlydry.”

SoDoratookthebottleofinkdownfromitsplaceonthemantelpiece,andinagreathurrysetaboutremovingthesealing-waxwhichcoveredthecork,forthebottlehad

not yet been opened. It was a tolerably easy matter tobreakofftheedgesoftheredwax,butDoradidnotfinditeasy at all to pull out the cork, which was low in thenarrowneckofthebottle,andhappenedtobeaverytightfit.

“Dear! dear! how troublesome this is!” exclaimedDora,hunting about forher stoutpair ofnail scissors tohelpherinforcingouttheobstinatecork.

“Goodmorning,Doradear,manyhappyreturnsofthedaytoyou!”criedthemerryvoiceofElsie,asshetappedatthedoorofhersister.

“Thankyou,darling,don’tcome innow; I’ll soonbedown-stairs—I’mnotquiteready!”calledoutDora,whohad just succeeded in finding thescissors.Sheheard thelittlefeetpatterdownthestairs.

“Happy birthday to you,Dora!Mind you’re not late,Miss Twelve-years-old!” This time it was the voice ofLuciusatthedoor.

“No,no,I’llnotbelate;I’llbedownintenminutes!”criedDora,diggingherscissorsvigorouslyintothecork.TheclatterofLucius’sbootsshowedthathehadfollowedlittleElsie.

“Oh, this cork, this tiresome cork!” exclaimedDora;

“there, it’s out at last;” and setting the openedbottle onthetable,sheturnedroundinagreatflurrytogetfromherboxtheskeinofsilkwhichwastobechangedfromwhitetoscarlet.

“Morehaste, less speed.”Dorawasnot the firstwhohasproved the truthof thatproverb.Shewhisked roundsorapidlythatherdressstruckthetopofthebottlewhichshehadcarelesslysetdown inaplace thatwasnotverysafe. The bottle was knocked over, but it fell uponsomething soft which lay on the table, so that it wasneitherbroken,nordiditmakeenoughnoiseinfallingtoattracttheattentionofDora.Itwasnottillshehadfoundtheskein(whichshehadsometroubleindoing), thatonturning back to the table she perceived the mischiefcausedbyherhastymovement.

Whatastartandexclamationofdistressweregivenbypoor Dora when she saw on the table her embroiderylying actually under the overturned bottle, and soakedthrough and through with the scarlet ink which hadflowedinabundancefromit!

Dora stood for a moment as if rooted to the spot,scarcely able to believe her own eyes. She then dartedforward, caught up the half-emptied bottle in one hand,and the stained, dripping linen in the other. The firstglance at the embroidery showed the poor girl that the

mischiefdonewasutterlybeyondrepairing;inoneminutethe fruit of all her long toil had been completelydestroyed!

“Oh,itisallmyownfault—allmyownfault—itcouldnot have prospered!” cried out Dora, in a loud tone ofanguish, as she put down first the bottle, then theembroidery, and then, hiding her face with her scarlet-stainedfingers,sheburstintoapassionofweeping.

That cry, thatweeping, reached the ears of her aunt,whohad justapproachedherdoor,carryingwithher thedestined gifts for the twins—the Indian scarf, and thebroochwiththeminiaturesetinpearls.

“Mydarlinggirl,whatisthematter?”exclaimedMissClare, opening the door in alarm.Therewas no need torepeattheunansweredquestion;thebottle,thelittleheapofembroidered linendrippingwithscarlet ink, told theirown storyplainly enough.MissClare saw the nature ofthe accident which had happened, and, with kindsympathyforherniece’sgreatdisappointment,foldedheraffectionatelyinherarms.

XX.Confession.

“IT is vexatious, my Dora, very vexatious,” said MissClare, ina toneofcondolence;“it is trying toyou,afterall thepainswhichyouhavebestowedonyourwork, tosee that work suddenly spoiled. But still take comfort,dearchild,inthethoughtthatnolaborundertakenforourMastercanreallybelost.”

Dora sobbedmore bitterly than before, for she knewthat hers had not been labor undertaken for theMaster,and she felt that her time and toil had beenworse thanlost.

Miss Clare did all that she could to comfort herfavorite niece. She showed Dora the beautiful broochwhichsheherselfvaluedsogreatly;shetoldherthatshehadbrought it as a birthday remembrance; but,much tothe lady’ssurprise,Doraonlyshookherheadsadly,andsobbedforth,“Notforme—notforme!Oh,thatmodel,IwishthatIneverhadtouchedit—IwishthatIhadneversetastitchinoneofthosecurtains!”

“Iseethatyouaredistressed,verynaturallydistressed,by themishapwhich has befallen your curtains, fearingthat thereby the whole model may be spoilt,” observedTheodora. “You are thinking of the disappointment ofyour brother and sisters, of the Ragged-school childrenwhoarecomingto-day,ofmyfriendswhoareinvitedtoseethemodel.Youthinkthatthereisnotimetorepairtheeffectsofthespillingthescarletink;butIthinkthatIseea way to remedy themischief;” andMiss Clare, as shespoke, placed before the weeping girl her beautifulembroideredscarf.“Ihad intended togive this toAgneswhenIgaveyoutheminiaturebrooch,butIwillnowaltermy plan. Iwill try to find out, or purchase, some otherremembrance forAgnes; and,with a little alteration, doyounotthink,mysweetgirl,thatthisworkwilldonicelyfortheinnercurtainsandveil?”

“Athousandtimesbetterthanminecouldhavedone!”exclaimedDora,dartingaglanceofalmostfiercedislikeattheembroidery,nowstainedandmarred,whichshehadoncesurveyedwithsuchproudadmiration.

“No, indeed,” said Miss Clare, very kindly; “forthough the Indian scarf may be—certainly is in itselfmorebeautifulthanyourcurtains,wecannotseeinitthesame token of patient perseverance inmakingwhatwasintendedtobeahumbleofferingoflovetotheLord.”

“Oh, Aunt Theodora, I can stand this no longer!”exclaimedDora,almostchokingwiththeviolenceofheremotion;“youmustknowall,Icanhideitnomore;youmusthearwhatanaughty,naughtygirlIhavebeen!”

Then, aswell as she could through her tears and hersobs,Dorarelievedherselfoftheburdenofconcealmentwhichhadbecomeatlastintolerable.Shetoldeverythingto her aunt—the first fault, the breaking of the fourthcommandment; then the falsehood, thedeceitwhichhadfollowed, for when did an unrepented sin ever standalone!Doraconcludedbypassionatelyexclaiming,“Youcannot, you must not, give me the brooch—Agnes hasdeserved it much better; she has been conquering hertemperanddoingallthatshecantopleasemamma,whileI have been only a hypocrite! Please give the brooch toAgnes,andthescarfforthemodel;Icouldnotbearnowtotakeeither—Iwhohaveonlydeservedtobepunished!”

Miss Clare was surprised, pained, disappointed bywhat she now heard; yet there was comfort to her inseeing that now at least her poor niece was heartilyrepenting.

“I cannot tell you,my child, how thankful I am thatthis accident has happened to your work, and that youhavebeenledtospeakoutbravelyatlast,”saidheraunt,putting her arm round Dora, and drawing her tenderly

towards her, so that the poor girl could weep on herbosom.

“Thenyoudon’tdespiseme—youwon’tgivemeup?”murmuredDora,cryingstill,butmuchmoresoftly.

“Giveyouup—never!”criedtheaunt,andshepressedakissuponDora’sbrow.“Itmaybeaquestion, indeed,whether I had not better reserve the brooch till nextbirthday.”

“Oh, I never could take it, never!” cried Dora,excitedly;“letitbegiventoAgnes.”

“Doyouthink,Dora,thatbygivingupthebroochyouarewinningaclaimtoforgiveness—thatbythissacrificeyou are atoning forwhat you have donewrong?” askedMiss Clare. “If so, I am bound to tell you that you aremistaken.”

“No,aunt,”repliedDora,forthefirsttimeraisinghereyes,heavywithweeping,andlookinghergodmotherfullin theface;“IknowthatnothingthatIcandocanatoneformysin—thatthereisbutoneAtonement;butIfeelasifIcouldnottakethebroochwhichyoumeanttogivetoagoodgirl,andwhichIhavesolittle”—Doracouldnotfinishthesentence,tearscameagain,andshehidherfaceonthebosomofheraunt.

MissClarehesitatedno longer.She felt that itwoulddeeply impress on the mind of Dora the painful lessonwhich she was learning, if she saw the brooch in thepossession of her elder twin.What Theodora had heardfrom Mrs. Temple of the marked improvement in thecharacterofAgnes,convincedherthatshewasthesisterwhobestdeservedtoreceivetheminiatureofhermother.MissClaremadeasacrificeofherowninclinationinthusdecidingtofollowherjudgment,butshewasinthehabitof doing what she thought right, instead of what shethoughtpleasant.

“Iwillconfessalltomamma,now,justasIhavedoneto you—I won’t be a hypocrite any longer,” murmuredDora,assoonasshehadrecoveredpowertospeak.

“And there is Another to whommy child must alsoconfess,” said Miss Clare, still with her arm round herniece,stillwithDora’sheadonherbreast;“thereisOnewho is ready freely to forgive every penitent whoapproaches theMercy-seatpleading themeritsofChrist.Wehavenopower to removeone spot fromour souls;”theeyesofMissClarechanced to rest, as shespoke,onthe embroidery, stained and destroyed; “but there is theLord’spromise tocomfort thebrokenandcontriteheart,‘Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white assnow—though they be red as crimson, they shall be as

wool.’”

Dora and her aunt knelt down together and togetherprayed, but in silence.WhenDora rose from her knees,though shewas still very sad and subdued, there was apeaceinherheart,asenseofsinforgiven,whichshehadnotexperiencedformonths.

XXI.Conclusion.

“DORA is late—shockingly late—onherbirthday too! Iam surprised!” exclaimed Elsie, whowas in a fidget ofimpatience topresenthersisterwithamarkerwhichshehadmade.

“And Aunt has kept us twenty—more than twentyminuteswaitingforprayers!”criedAmy;“Iamsurprised,forshealwaysissopunctual.”

“And Agnes has employed the time mending mygloves,themostsurprisingthingofall,”laughedLucius.

“Whysosurprising?”askedElsie.

“Because a few months ago Agnes was much moregiventopickingholesthantosewingthemup,”answeredtheboy.“Ilikedtoplagueherandshetoteaseme,andIthoughtthatweshouldalwaysliveakindofcat-and-doglife together. But now we’re going to be grand allies,”addedthemerryboy,clappingAgnesupontheshoulder;“by your example you’ll help to mend my manners aswellasmygloves!”

Lucius spoke in his saucy playful way, but “there’smany a true word spoken in jest,” and he was butexpressing what all the family had observed, that therewasgradualbutsteadyimprovementintheouterconductoftheoncepeevishandselfishgirl.

But the sharpest conflict of Agnes upon her twelfthbirthdayhadbeenagainsta jealousspiritwithin.Fromafewwordsdroppedbyheraunton thepreviousevening,Agnesfeltsurethathermother’slikenesswouldbegivenasabirthdaypresenttooneofthetwins,andshehadnotadoubtthattheyoungerwouldbetheonethusfavored.

“It was just the same last birthday,” thought Agneswith bitterness: “I am given some makeshift, Dora haswhat is really of value. It is rather hard that she shouldalwaysbepreferredbeforehereldersisterbecausesheiscalledaftermyaunt,whilstIamnamedaftermymother.Butoh!howwickedisthisfeelingofjealousy,howsinfulthese unkind and covetous thoughts! Lord! help me toovercomethissecrettemptation,andtofeelpleasure,realpleasure, when I see Dora wearing that which is soprecioustousboth!”

Asthethought,orrathertheprayer,passedthroughthemindofAgnes,thedooropenedandMissClareentered,followedbyDora.The ladyheld thebeautifulbrooch inher hand, andgoingup to the elder twinwhom shehad

not met before on that morning, with a kiss and awhispered blessing, fastened the precious jewel on herbreast.

That twenty-fourth day ofDecemberwas a day longrememberedwithdelightbymanyapoorchildinChester,forlargewasthenumberofscholars(itwouldbescarcelyjust to call them ragged)who enjoyed the feast and thevaried amusements provided for them in the large redhousebytheirbenefactress,MissClare.

Specially was the beautiful, the wonderful modelwhichtheyounggentlefolkhadmade,thethemeofmanyaconversationinthelowcourtsandlanesfromwhichtheguestshadbeengathered.Worn,wearymothers,at theirsewingorwashing,paused,needleinhand,orwitharmswhitenedwithsoap-suds,tohearofthegoldenpillars,andsilverloops,andaboveallofthesplendidembroiderythatadorned the inner part of themodel, that partwhich, asMissClarehadtoldthem,wascalledtheHolyofholies.

“And the young ladies looked just as pleased andhappyaswe,”abare-footed littleurchinobservedat theend of a lively narration of all thewonders that he hadseen;“allbutone,andhereyeswereredasifshe’dbeena-crying,—whatcouldshehavehadtomakehercry?But

shesmiled,too,whenweclappedourhandsandshoutedforjoyaswesawthebeautifultent!”

Whatdelightedtheireyes,andpleasedtheirfancy,waswhatnaturallymadethegreatestimpressionontheraggedscholarswhohad stared inwonderingadmirationon themodel of the Tabernacle of Israel. But the concludingwords of a little address made by Miss Clare to thechildrenwerewhat sank deepest into thememories andheartsofhertwinnieces.

“I have described to you,my dear young pupils, thevariouspartsofthismodel,”shesaid:“letmenowbrieflypointouta few lessonswhichweshouldallcarryaway.InIsrael’sTabernacleweseeaTYPEofeveryChristian,inwhosebody,asSt.Paultellsus,God’sHolySpiritdeignsto dwell (1 Cor. iii. 16). In that living Tabernacle, thelowlyheartistheHolyofholies,becauseitiscleansedbythebloodofsprinkling, in it theCommandmentsofGodaretreasured,andthelightofHisloveshineswithin.ButastheTabernaclewasnotintendedtolastforever,buttogive place to a farmore splendid building, so is itwiththese bodies of ours.As Solomon’smagnificent temple,glorious and fair, and firm on its deep foundation, farsurpassedtheTabernaclemadetobemovedfromplacetoplace;sowilltheglorifiedbodiesofsaints,whentheyareraised from their graves, surpass these weak, mortal

bodies in which they served their Lord upon earth. Forwhat saith theApostleSt.Paul:—‘WEKNOWTHAT IFOUREARTHLY HOUSE OF THIS TABERNACLE WERE DISSOLVED, WE

HAVEA BUILDINGOFGOD,AHOUSENOTMADEWITHHANDS,ETERNALINTHEHEAVENS.’”(2Cor.v.1.)

[268][269]

SHORTSTORIESBYTHESAMEAUTHOR.

[270][271]

THEBEAR.

“HEisjustlikeabear!”thatisaverycommonexpressionwhenwetalkofsomeill-temperedmanorboy,whotakesa pleasure in saying rude things, and who seems bentuponmakingeveryonenearhimasuncomfortableashecan.

Butwemaybeunjusteven tobears.CouldyouhavegonetowintryGreenland,andseenMrs.Bruinamidstherfamily of little white cubs, each scarcely bigger than arabbit,youwouldhaveagreed that a bear canbe a kindandtendermother,andprovideforherfour-footedbabiesasnugandcomfortablehome.

You would, indeed, have had some difficulty infindingBearHall,orBearHole,aswerathershouldcallit. Perhaps in wandering over the dreary snow-coveredplains ofGreenland, youmight have come upon a littlehole in the snow, edged with hoar-frost, without everguessingthattheholewasformedbythewarmbreathofan Arctic bear, or that Mrs. Bruin and her promisingfamily were living in a burrow beneath you.[C] Howwonderfully does Instinct teach this rough, strange-

lookingcreaturetoprovideforhercubs!Themother-bearscrapesandburrowsunderthesnow,tillshehasformedasmall but snug home, where she dwells with her baby-bears during the sharpest cold of an Arctic winter. SowonderfullyhasProvidencecaredforthecomfortevenofwild beasts, that the mother needs no food for threemonths!Sheissofatwhenshesettlesdowninherunder-snowhome,thatherownplumpnessservesherinsteadofbreakfast, dinner, and supper; so that when at last shecomesout tobreakher long fast, she is not starved, buthasmerelygrownthin.

IneedhardlyremindmyreaderthattheArcticbearisprovidedbyNaturewithathick,warm,close-fittingcoatofwhitefur;andthesnowitself,strangeasitseemstosayso, serves as a blanket tokeep thepiercing air fromhernarrowden.

Yes,Mrs.Bruinwas a happymother though her cellwassmalltoholdherandherchildren,andthecoldabovewas so terrible thatwater froze in the dwellings ofmeneven in a roomwith a fire.MrsBruin found enough ofamusementinlickinghercubs,whichwasherfashionofwashing, combing, and dressing, andmaking them looklike respectablebears.She let themknow that she lovedthem dearly in that kind of language which little ones,whethertheybebabiesorbear-cubs,sosoonunderstand.

But when March came, Mrs. Bruin began to growhungry,andthinkthatitwasfulltimetoscrambleoutofherunder-snowden,and lookout forsomefish,ora fatyoungseal,toeatforherbreakfast.Theweatherwasstillmost fearfully cold, and the red sun seemed to have nopoweratall,savetolightupanendlesswasteofsnow,inwhich not a tree was to be seen save here and there astuntedfir,halfcrustedoverwithice.

Safe, however, and prettywarm in their shaggy furs,over thedrearywildswalkedMrs.Bruin,and theyoungbearstrottedatherheels.Theywentalongforsometime,whentheycametoaroundswellinginthesnow;atleastsoalittlehutappearedtotheeyesofabear.Indeed,hadour own eyes looked on that snow-covered hillock, weshouldscarcelyatfirsthaveguessedthatitwasahumandwelling.

Perhaps some scent of food came up from thechimney-hole, which made Mrs. Bruin think aboutbreakfast, for she went close up to the hut, then trottedaround it—her rough white nose in the air. She thenutteredalowshortgrowl,whichmadehercubsscrambleuptoherside.

Oh,withwhatterrorthesoundofthatgrowlfilledtheheartofpoorAneekah,theEsquimauxwoman,whowaswithher little childrencrouching together forwarmth in

thathut!

“Did you hear that noise?” exclaimed Aleekan, theeldestboy,stoppingsuddenlyinthemidstofatalewhichhehadbeentelling.

“There’sabearoutside!”criedalltheyoungerchildrenatonce.

Aneekah rose,andhastily strengthened the fasteningsof her rude door with a thick piece of rope, while herchildren breathlessly listened to catch again the soundwhichhadfilledthemwithfear.

“Thebear is climbingupoutside!” cried littleVraga,clinging in terror tohermother.“Icanhear thescrapingofitsclaws!”

There was an anxious pause for several minutes, alllisteningtoointentlytobreakthesilencebyevenaword.Then,tothegreatalarmoftheEsquimaux,thewhiteheadof an Arctic bear could be plainly seen, looking downuponthemfromabove.Theanimalhad,afterclamberinguptothetopofthehut,enlargedtheholewhichhadbeenleftintherooftoletoutthesmoke.

“We’relost!”exclaimedAneekah.

“Omother let us pray!Will notGod help us?” cried

oneofthechildren.[D]

Theprayercouldhavebeenbutaveryshortone,butthepresenceofmindwhichthemothershowedmayhavebeengivenastheinstantanswertoit.Aneekahcaughtupapieceofmoss,stuckitonastick,setitonfire,andheldtheblazingmassascloseasshecouldtothenoseofthebear.

Nowfirewasanew thing toMrs.Bruin, and sowassmoke;andifthebearhadfrightenedtheEsquimaux,theEsquimaux now frightened the bear.With a snort and ashakeofhershaggyfur, theanimaldrewbackherhead,and, to the surprise and delight of the trembling family,theysoonheardtheirunwelcomevisitorscramblingdownfasterthanshehadclamberedup.Mrs.Bruintrottedofftoseekherbreakfastelsewhere;letushopethatsheandhercubsfoundafinesupplyoffishfrozeninacleftinsomeiceberg floating away in the sea.At any rate they neveragainwereseenneartheEsquimauxhome.

Do you wonder how the poor Esquimaux child hadlearned the value of prayer? Would any one go to thedrearywildsofGreenland to carry theblessedgospel tothenativesofthatdesolateshore?

Yes, even to “Greenland’s icy mountains” havemissionariesgonefrombrighter,happierlands.Thereare

pastors now laboring amongst the poor Esquimaux, forthey know that the soul of each savage is precious.Thelight of the gospel is shiningnow inEsquimauxhomes,and, amidst all their hardships, sufferings, and dangers,Esquimaux have learned to show pious trust when inperil,andthankfulnessafterdeliverance.Itisfromthepenof a missionary that we have learned the story which IhavejustrelatedoftheEsquimauxwomanandthewhitebear.

FOOTNOTES:

[C]See“HomeswithoutHands.”

[D] This incident of the intrusion ofthebear,andtheexclamationofthechild,hasbeengivenasafact.

THETIGER-CUB.

“REALLY,CaptainGuise,youneed troubleyourselfnomore in the matter; I am quite able to take care ofmyself!” cried young Cornet Stanley, with a littleimpatienceinhistone.

The speaker was a blue-eyed lad, whose freshcomplexion showed that he had not been long in theburning climate of India.Cornet Stanley had indeed butlately left an English home, for he was littlemore thansixteen years of age. With very anxious feelings, andmany tears, had Mrs. Stanley parted with her rosy-cheekedNorman.“Heissoveryyoung,”asshesaid,“tomeet all the trials and temptations of an officer’s life inIndia!”

Mrs. Stanley’s great comfort was that her Normanwould have a tried and steady friend in her cousin,Captain Guise, who would, she felt sure, act a father’spart to her light-hearted boy. Young Stanley wasappointedtothesameregimentasthatofthecaptain;andalmost as soon as the cornet had landed in India, heproceeded up country to join it. The season of the year

wasthatwhichis inIndiacalled thecoldweather,whenmanyEuropeansliveintents,movingfromplacetoplace,that they may amuse themselves with hunting andshooting.NormanStanley,whohadneverbeforechasedanything larger thana rabbit,wasdelighted tomakeoneofapartywithtwoofhisbrotherofficers,andenjoywiththem for a while a wild, free life in the jungle. Therewouldhavebeennoharmatallinthis,hadNorman’snewcompanions been sober and steady young men; butDugsleyandDaneswerenotedasthetwowildestofficersintheregiment.

CaptainGuisewasalsoout incamp,andhis tentwaspitched not very far from that of his young friendNorman. The captain took a warm interest in youngStanley,notonlyforthesakeofhisparents,butalsoforhisown;forthebrightrosyfaceandfrankmanneroftheladinclinedallwhomethimtofeelkindlytowardshim.ItwaswithnosmallregretthatCaptainGuise,ontheveryfirsteveningwhentheofficersalldinedtogether,sawthatyoung face flushed not with health, but with wine, andthat frank manner become more boisterous than it hadbeen earlier in the day. Not that Norman Stanley couldhave been called drunk, but he had taken a little morewinethanwasgoodforhimtotake;andhisfriendknewbuttoowellinwhatsuchabeginningoflifeinIndiawaslikelytoend.

The captain was a good and sensible man, and hecould not see his young relative led into folly and sinwithout warning him of the danger into which he washeedlesslyrunning.CaptainGuise,onthefollowingday,therefore,visitedNormaninhistent,andtriedtoputhimonhisguardagainst tooclosea friendshipwithDugsleyandDanes,andtoshowhimtheperilofbeingdrawnbylittleandlittleintointemperatehabits.

Norman Stanley, who thought himself quite a manbecausehecouldwearauniformandgivecommands togray-bearded soldiers, was a little hurt at any one’sthinkingoftroublinghimwithadvice.CaptainGuisehad,however,spokensokindlythattheladcouldnottakerealoffenceathiswords,butonlytriedtoshowhisfriendthathiswarningwasnotatallneeded.

“I shall never disgrace myself by becoming adrunkard,youmaybecertainofthat,”saidtheyouth;“noone despises a sotmore than I do, and I shall never beone. As for taking an extra glass of champagne after along day’s shooting, that is quite a different thing, andnobodycanobjecttoit.”

“But the extra glass, Norman, is often like the thinpoint of thewedge,” said the captain; “it is followedbyanotherandanother,tillaruinoushabitmaybeformed.”

“I tell you that I shall never get into habits ofdrinking,”interruptedyoungStanley.Then,ashetookuphis gun to go out shooting, the cornet uttered thewordswithwhichthislittlestorycommences.

CaptainGuise did not feel satisfied. He saw that hisyoung friend was relying on the strength of his ownresolutions, and in so doing was leaning on a reed. Hecould not, however, say anything more just then, andNormanStanleystartedanewsubjecttogiveaturntotheconversation.

“By-the-by, Captain Guise, I’ve not shown you theprizewhichIcapturedyesterday.AsDugsleyandIwerebeatingaboutinthejungle,whatshouldwelightuponbuta tiger-cub—a real little beauty, pretty and playful as ayoungkitten.”

“Whatdidyoumakeofit?”askedthecaptain.

“Oh,I’vetetheredittothetreeyonder,”saidNorman,pointing to one not a hundred yards distant. “By goodluckIhadadog’schainandcollarwhichfittedthelittlecreatureexactly.ImeantotryifIcan’trearit,andkeepatiger-cubasapet.”

“A tiger-cub is rather adangerouspet, I should say,”observedCaptainGuise,withasmile.

“Oh,notabitofit!”criedNorman,lightly;“thelittlebrutehasnofangstobitewith,andifithad,thechainisquitestrongenoughto”—

The sentence was never finished, for while the lastwordwasyetonthesmilinglipsoftheyouth,thesuddensoundof a savage roar fromaneighboring thicketmadehimstart,turnpale,andgrasphisgunmorefirmly.Forthfromtheshadeof thebushesspranga large tigress. Inaminute, with a few bounds, she had cleared the spacebetweenherselfandhercub!Snapwentthechain,asthestrongwild beast caught up her little one in hermouth;and before either Norman or the captain (who hadsnatched up a second gun) had time to take aim, thetigresswasoffagain,bearingawayherrescuedcubtothejungle!

“That was a sight worth seeing!” exclaimed CaptainGuise;“Ineverbeheldamoresplendidcreatureinallmylife!”

Norman, who was very young, and quiteunaccustomedtohavingatigersonearhimwithnoironcagebetweenthem,lookedasthoughhehadnotenjoyedthe sight at all. “I should not care tomeet that splendidcreature alone in the jungle,”heobserved. “Didyounotnoticehowtheironchainsnappedlikeathreadatthejerkwhichshegaveit?”

“Yes,” repliedCaptainGuise, as he turned back intothetent;“whatwillholdinthecub,isasaspider’swebtothe full-grown wild beast. You had, as I told you, adangerous pet, Norman Stanley. You might play for awhile with the young creature, but claws will lengthenand fangs will grow. And,” the captain added moregravely,“this is likesomeother thingswhichareat firstbut a source of amusement, but which are too likely tobecomeatlastasourceofdestruction.”

Norman Stanley’s cheek reddened, for he felt that itwas not merely of a tiger’s cub that his friend wasspeaking.Evilhabits,whichatfirstseemsoweakthatwebelievethatwecanholdtheminbyamereeffortofwill,grow fearfully strong by indulgence. Many a wretcheddrunkard has begun by what he called merely a littleharmless mirth, but has found at last that he had beenfostering something more dangerous still then a tiger’scub. His good resolutions have snapped; he has beencarriedawaybyaterribleforcewithwhichhehasnothadthestrengthtograpple;andsohasprovedthetruthofthecaptain’s words, that what is at first but a source ofamusementmaybeatlastasourceofdestruction.

NOTONETOOMANY.

“NO, neighbor, you’ve not one too many,” observedBridget Macbride, as she stood in the doorway of thecottage of JanetMaclean, knitting coarse gray socks asfastasherfingerscouldgo.

“It’s easy enough for you to say so,” replied Janet,whowasengagedinironingoutashirt,andwhoseemedtobe toobusyeven to lookupas she spoke—“it’s easyenough for you to say so, Bridget Macbride. You’veneverhadbutthreebairns[children]inyourlife,andyourhusband he gets good wages. You’d sing to a differenttune, I take it, if you’dninebairns, as I ha’e, theoldestnot twelve years old—nine to feed, to clothe, and tohouse,andtotoilandmoilfor,andyourgoodmangettingbut seven shillings a-week, though he’s after the sheepfrommorningtillnight!”Mrs.Macleanhadbeengettingquite red in the face as she spoke, but that might havebeenfromstoopingoverherironingwork.

“Still children are blessings,—at least, I alwaysthoughtmineso,”observedBridgetMacbride.

“Blessings;yes,tobesure!”criedJanet;“Ithoughtsotootillthereweresomanyofthemthatwehadtopackinthe cottage like herrings in a barrel.” Janet was nowironingoutasleeve,andrequiredtogorathermoregentlyonwithherwork.“I’msurenaefolkwelcomedlittleonesmorethanTamandIdidthefourfirstweebairns,thoughmanyabrokennight’srestwehadwi’poorJeanie,—andIshallneverforgetthetimewhenthemeasleswasinourcottage,andeveryaneo’thefourhadit!Yes,”themotherwenton,“fourwecouldmanageprettywell,withaweebit o’ pinching and scraping; but then came twins; andthen littleDavie; and afore he could toddle alane, twinsagain!”andJanetbangeddownherirononitsstand,asiftwosetsof twinswere toomuch for thepatienceofanyparenttoendure.

“Youmusthaveastruggletokeepthemall,”observedBridgetMacbride.

“Struggle!Ishouldsayso!”criedJanet,lookingmoreflushedandangrythanever.“Wenevercouldhavegotonatall,hadInottakeninwashingandironing;andit’snosuch easy matter, I can tell you, to wash and iron finethings for the gentry with twin-babies a-wanting you tolookafterthemeveryhourinthetwenty-four!”Itseemedasifthebabieshadheardthemselvesmentioned,forfromthe rude cradle by the fire came a squall, first fromone

child, and then from both, and poor Janet was severalminutesbeforeshecouldgeteitherofthemquietagain.

“You’veabusylifeofitindeed,”observedBridget,assoonasthewearymotherwasableoncemoretotakeupheriron.

“’Deedyoumaysayso,”repliedJanetsharply,plyingherironfaster,asiftomakeupforlosttime.“Andforallmy working, and Tam’s, we can scarce get enough ofbread or porridge to fill nine hungrymouths; and as formeat,wedon’tseeitforweeksandweeks—notsomuchasasliceofbacon!Thenthere’stheschoolingofthetwaeldestbairnstobepaidfor,asTamandIwon’tha’ethemgrow up like heathen savages; and we’ll hae them gaedecenttoo,notinragsandbarefooted,likebeggars.AndIshouldliketoknow”—Janetwasironingfast,buttalkingfaster—“I should like to know how shoon [shoes] andsarks[shirts],andaplaidieforthisane,andabonnetforanither, and breakfasts o’ bannocks, and porridge forsupper,area’tocomeoutofthatwash-tub?”

“And yet,” observedBridgetMacbride, “hard as youhave towork for your children, I don’t believe that youwouldwillinglypartwithoneofthem,neighbor.”

Even as she spoke, there was a distressful cry of“Mither! mither!” as Janet’s two eldest children burst

suddenly into the cottage, looking unhappy andfrightened.

“Whatailsthebairns?”askedJanetanxiously,turningroundatthecry.

“Omither,we’ve lostweeDavie;we can’t find himnowhere in thewood, andwebeafeard ashemayhavefallenoverthecliff.”

“Davie!mybairn!mydarling!”exclaimedpoorJanet,forgetting in amoment all her toils and troubles in oneterriblefear.Downwenttheirononthetable,andwithoutwaitingtoputonbonnetorshawl,thefondmotherrushedoutofthecottage,togoandsearchforherchild.Bridgethadspokenthetruth;Janetmightcomplainofthetroublebroughtbya largefamily,butshecouldnotbear topartwithoneoutofherflock.IfDaviehadbeentheonlychildof a richmother, instead of the seventh child of a poorone, he could not have been sought with more eageranxiety,moretender,self-forgettinglove.

Followed by several of her children, but outstrippingthem all in her haste, Janetwas soon at the edge of thewood. “Davie! Davie! my bairn! my bairn!” resoundedthrough the forest.Themother’s crywas answeredby adistantwhoop and halloo;—Janet knew the voice of herhusband,andherhearttookcouragefromthesound.But

her hope was changed into delight, when she caught aglimpse between the trees of the shepherd comingtowards her, with her little yellow-haired laddie Davieperched on his broad shoulders, graspingwith one handhis father’s rough locks, and with the other a bannock,whichhewasnibblingatasherode.

“TheLordbepraised!” criedpoor Janet, and rushingforward she caught the child from her husband, pressedDavie closely to her heart, and burst into a flood ofgratefultears.

“You must look a bit better after your stray lamb,Janet,”saidTamwithagood-humoredsmile.“Iwasjustcrossing the wood when Trusty set up a barking whichmademegoouto’mywayjusttoseeifhehadfoundarabbit,orstartedablackcock.Therewasourwean[child]sitting much at his ease, munching a bannock, ascontentedandhappyasifhe’dbeenadukeeatingvenisonout of a golden dish. But youmustna let thewee bairnwanderaboutbyhimsel’, for ifhe’dgaenover thecliff,we’dneverhaeheardthevoiceo’ourlammieagain.”

Very joyfulandvery thankfulwasJanetMaclean,as,with her boy in her arms, she returned to her cottage.Bridget had remained there to take care of the twinsduring the absence of their mother. Mrs. Macbridereceivedherneighborwithasmile,andthewords,“Didna

I say, Janet, that ye’d not one too many, nor wouldwillinglypartwi’asinglebairnouto’yournine?”

“TheLordforgiemythanklessheart!”saidpoorJanet,and she fondly kissed her boy. “We ne’er are gratefulenoughforourblessingsuntilweare like to lose them.”Thenputtingthelittlechilddownonthebrickfloor,withfresh courage and industry the mother returned to herironingagain.

MaywenothopethatallJanet’stoilandhardworkforherchildrenhadonedayarichreward?Maywenothopethatnotoneoutofthenine,whenoldenoughandstrongenoughtolaborforherwhohadlaboredsohardforthem,butdidhisbesttorepayhercareandherlove?Howlargeisaparent’sheart,thatopenswideandwidertotakeinallthe children of her family, however numerous thosechildren may be! Though each new babe adds to poorparents’toils,andtakesfromtheircomforts,stillthekindfatherandthefondmother,astheylookroundtheirhomecircleof rosy faces, cannotonly saybut feel, “There isnotonetoomany.”

THEIRONRING.

CHANGWANGwasaChinaman,andwasreputedtobeone of the shrewdest dealers in the Flowery Land. Ifmakingmoneyfastbethetestofcleverness,therewasnota merchant in the province of Kwang Tung who hadearned a better right to be called clever.Whoowned somanyfieldsof the tea-plant,whoshippedsomanybalesof its leaves to thelittle islandin thewest,asdidChangWang? Itwaswhispered, indeed, thatmanyof thebalescontainedgreenteamadebychoppingupspoiltblacktea-leaves, and coloring themwith copper—aprocess likelyto turn them into a mild kind of poison; but if theunwholesometrashfoundpurchasers,ChangWangnevertroubledhimselfwiththethoughtwhetheranyonemightsuffer in health from drinking his tea. So long as thedealermademoney,hewascontent;andplentyofmoneyhemade.

Butknowinghow tomakemoney isquiteadifferentthingfromknowinghowtoenjoyit.Withallhisill-gottengains,ChangWangwasamiserableman, forhehadnohearttospendhissilverpieces,evenonhisowncomfort.The rich dealer lived in a hut which one of his own

laborersmighthavedespised;hedressedasapoorTartarshepherd might have dressed when driving his flock.ChangWanggrudgedhimselfevenahat tokeepoff theraysofthesun.Menlaughed,andsaidthathewouldhavecut off his own pigtail of plaited hair, if he could havesolditforthepriceofadinner!ChangWangwas,infact,amiser,andwasratherproudthanashamedofthehatefulviceofavarice.

ChangWanghad tomakea journey toMacao,downthegreat riverYang-se-kiang, forpurposesof trade.Thequestion with the Chinaman now was in what way heshouldtravel.

“Shall I hire a palanquin?” thought Chang Wang,strokinghisthinmoustaches;“no,apalanquinwouldcosttoo much money. Shall I take my passage in a tradingvessel?” The rich trader shook his head, and the pigtailbehindit,—suchapassagewouldhavetobepaidfor.

“Iknowwhat I’lldo,”said themiser tohimself;“I’llask my uncle Fing Fang to take me in his fishing-boatdown the great river. It is true that it will make myjourneya longone,but then I shallmake it fornothing.I’llgotothefishermanFingFang,andsettlethematteratonce.”

Thebusinesswassoonarranged,forFingFangwould

notrefusehisrichnephewaseatinhisboat.Buthe,likeevery one else, was disgusted at Chang Wang’smeanness; and as soon as the dealer had left his hovel,thusspokeFingFangtohissons,KoandJung:

“Here’safellowwhohasscrapedupmoneyenoughtobuildasecondporcelaintower,andhecomesheretobega freepassage in a fishing-boat fromanunclewhomhehasneversomuchasaskedtoshareadishofhisbirds’-nestssoup.”[E]

“Birds’-nests soup, indeed!” exclaimed Ko; “why,ChangWang never indulges in luxuries such as that. Ifdogs’flesh[E]werenotsocheap,he’dgrudgehimselfthepawofaroastedpuppy.”

“AndwhatwillChangWangmakeofallhismoneyatlast?” said Fing Fangmore gravely; “he cannot carry itawaywithhimwhenhedies.”

“Oh,he’sgatheringitupforsomeonewhowillknowhowtospendit,” laughedJung.“ChangWangismerelyfishingforothers;whathegathers,theywillenjoy.”

It was a bright, pleasant day when Chang Wangstepped into the boat of his uncle, to drop slowly downthe great Yang-se-kiang. Many a civil word he said toFing Fang and his sons, for civil words cost nothing.

ChangWangsatintheboattwistingtheendsofhislongmoustaches,and thinkinghowmuchmoneyeachrowofplantsinhistea-fieldsmightbringhim.Presently,havingfinished his calculations, the miser turned to watch hisrelations,whowere pursuing their fishing occupation inthewaypeculiartoChina.Insteadofrods,lines,ornets,the Fing Fang family was provided with trainedcormorants, which are a kind of bird with a long neck,largeappetite,andaparticularfancyforfish.

It was curious to watch a bird diving down in thesunny water, and then suddenly come up again with astrugglingfishinhisbill.Thefishwas,however,alwaystakenawayfromthecormorant,andthrownbyoneoftheFingFangsintoawellatthebottomoftheboat.

“CousinKo,”saidthemiser,leaningforwardtospeak,“how is it that your clever cormorants never devour thefishtheycatch?”

“CousinChangWang,” replied theyoungman, “dostthou not see that each bird has an iron ring round hisneck, so that he cannot swallow? He only fishes forothers.”

“Methinks the cormorant has a hard life of it,”observedthemiser,smiling.

“HemustwishhisironringatthebottomoftheYang-se-kiang.”

Fing Fang, who had just let loose two youngcormorants from the boat, turned round, and from hisnarrow slits of Chinese eyes looked keenly upon hisnephew.

“Didstthoueverhearofacreature,”saidhe,“thatputsanironringaroundhisownneck?”

“ThereisnosuchcreatureinallthelandthattheGreatWallborders,”repliedChangWang.

Fing Fang solemnly shook the pigtail which hungdownhisback.LikemanyoftheChinese,hehadreadagreatdeal,andwasakindofphilosopherinhisway.

“Nephew Chang Wang,” he observed, “I know of acreature (and he is not far off at this moment) who isalways fishing for gain—constantly catching, but neverenjoying.Avarice—theloveofhoarding—istheironringroundhisneck; and so longas it stays therehe ismuchlike one of our trained cormorants—he may be clever,active,successful,butheisonlyfishingforothers.”

I leavemy readers to guesswhether the sharp dealerunderstoodhisuncle’smeaning,orwhetherChangWangresolved in future not only to catch, but to enjoy. Fing

Fang’s moral might be good enough for a Chineseheathen, but it does not go nearly far enough for anEnglishChristian. If amiser is likea cormorantwithaniron ring roundhisneck, themanor thechildwho livesfor his own pleasure only, what is he but a greedycormorant without the iron ring? Who would wish toresemble a cormorant at all? The bird knows theenjoymentofgetting;letusprizethericherenjoymentofgiving. Let me close with an English proverb, which Iprefer to theChinaman’sparable,—“Charity is the truestepicure;forsheeatswithmanymouths.”

FOOTNOTE:

[E]NotedChinesedishes.

THEILLWIND.

“IT’Sanillwindthatblawsnaebodygood,MasterHarry—wemaunsaythat,”observedoldAilsie,Mrs.Delmar’sScotch nurse, as shewent to close thewindow, throughwhichrushedinthefuriousblast;“butIhaeadearladdieatsea,andwhenIhearthewindhowllikethat,Ithink”—

“Oh, shut thewindow, nurse!Quick, quick! orwe’llhave thecasementblownin!”criedNina.“Didyoueverhearsuchagust!”

Ailsie shut the window, but not in time to preventsomepictures,whichthelittleladyhadbeensorting,frombeingscatteredineverydirectionovertheroom.

“Our fine larch has been blown down on the lawn,”criedHarry,whohadsauntereduptothewindow.

“Oh, what a pity!” exclaimed his sister, as she wentdownon her knees to pick up the pictures. “Our beautylarch,thatwasplantedonlythisspring,andthatlookedsolovelywith its tasselsofgreen!To thinkof thedreadfulwind rooting up that! I’m sure that this at least is an illwind,thatblowsnobodygood.”

“Youshouldseethemischiefithasdoneinthewood,”observedHarry; “snapping off great branches as if theywere twigs.Thewholepath through thewood is strewnwiththeboughsandtheleaves.”

“Ican’tbearthefiercewind,”exclaimedNina.“WhenIwasouthalfanhouragoIthoughtitwouldhaveblownmeaway.Ireallycouldscarcelykeepmyfeet.”

“I could not keep my cap,” laughed Harry. “Off itscudded, whirling round and round right into the river,where I couldwatch it floating for ever so long. I shallnevergetitagain.”

“Mischievous,horridwind!”criedNina,whohadjustpickedupthelastofherpictures.

“Oh,missie, yemaunna speak against thewind—foryekenwhosends it,”observed theoldnurse.“Ithas itswork to do aswe hae ours.Depend on’t, the proverb istrue,‘It’sanillwindthatblawsnaebodygood.’”

“There’snosenseinthatproverb,”saidHarry,bluntly.“Thiswinddoesnothingbutharm.Ithassnappedofftheheadofmamma’sbeautifulfavoriteflower”—

“Andsmashedpanesinhergreenhouse,”addedNina.

It was indeed a furious wind that was blowing that

evening,andasthenightcameonitseemedtoincrease.Itrattledtheshutters,itshriekedinthechimneys,ittoreoffsomeof the slates, and kept the children awakewith itshowling.The storm lulled, however, before themorningbroke;andwhen the sunhad risen,allwasbright, calm,andserene.

“What a lovely morning after such a stormy night!”criedNina,aswithherbrotherHarrysherambled in thegreen wood, while old Ailsie followed behind them. “Ineverfelttheairmoresweetandfresh,anditseemedsoheavyyesterdaymorning.”

“Ay, ay, the wind cleared the air,” observed Ailsie.“It’sanillwindthatblawsnaebodygood.”

“Butthinkofyourpoorsonatsea,”observedHarry.

“I was just thinking o’ him when I spake, MasterHarry. I was thinking that maybe that verra wind wasfillingthesailso’hisship,andblawinghimhameallthefaster, tocheer theeyeso’hismither. It is sure tobe inthe right quarter for some one, let it blaw from north,south,east,orwest.”

“Why, there’s littleRuthLaurie justbeforeus,”criedHarry,asheturnedabendinthewoodlandpath.“Whatagreatbundleoffagotssheisbravelycarrying!”

“Let’s ask after her sickmother,” saidNina, runningup to the orphan child, who was well known to theDelmars. Ruth dwelt with her mother in a very smallcottagenear thewood;and thechildrenwereallowed tovisitthewidowinherpoorbutrespectfulhome.

“Blessings on the wee barefooted lassie!” exclaimedAilsie; “I’ll be bound she’s been up with the lark, togather up the broken branches which the wind hasstrippedfromthetrees.”

“That’s a heavy bundle for you to carry,Ruth!” saidHarry;“itisalmostasbigasyourself.”

“I shouldn’t mind carrying it were it twice as heavyandbig,”criedthepeasantchild,lookingupwithabright,happysmile.“Coalsbeterribledear,andwe’venotastickofwoodleftintheshed;andmother,shegetssochillyofanevening.There’snothingshelikessowellasahotcupof teaandagoodwarmfire;yourdearmammagivesusthe tea,andyouseeI’ve thewoodforboiling thewater.Won’tmotherbegladwhensheseesmybigfagots;andwasn’t I pleased when I heard the wind blowing lastnight, for IknewI should findbranches strewnabout inthemorning!”

“Ah,” cried Harry, “that reminds me of the proverb,‘’Tisanillwindthatblowsnobodygood.’”

“Harry,” whispered Nina to her brother, “don’t youthink that you and I might help Ruth to fill her poormother’slittlewood-shed?”

“What!pickupsticks,andcarrytheminfagotsonourbacks?Howfunnythatwouldlook!”exclaimedHarry.

“We should be doing some good,” replied Nina.“Don’tyourememberthatnursesaidthatthewindhasitsworktodo,aswehaveours?Ifit’sanillwindthatdoesnobodygood,itmustbeanillchildthatdoesgoodtonoone.”

Merrily and heartily Harry and Nina set about theirlaborofkindness.Andcheerfully,asthechildrentrippedalong with their burdens to the poor woman’s cottage,Nina repeated her old nurse’s proverb, “’Tis an illwindthatblowsnobodygood.”

Transcriber’sNotes:

Obviouspunctuationerrorsrepaired.

Page 199, “grow” changed to “grew”(Doragrewuneasy)

Page227,originally,footnote,rightsideoftextmissing,originalread:

[B]A.L.O.E.remembersattending,manyago,exactlysnchanexhibitionatthehousefriend, of amodelof theTabernaclemadebyaand her children for some charitablepurpose.

Thishasbeenchangedto:

[B]A.L.O.E.remembersattending,manyyearsago,exactlysuchanexhibitionatthehouseofafriend, of amodelof theTabernaclemadebyaladyand her children for some charitablepurpose.

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