A Random Shaft.

sixteen miles to Mere and back; but then the roads were so heavy, and the snow did ball so in Brown Bess's feet, and he thought he never should get there. He was certain he had taken the hamper quite safe, and gone out of his way to give it in charge to one of the porters, who was a Summerbourne man, so it was sure to go right; and he had done all the errands, and there were no letters when he called at the post, but here was the master's newspaper. Then having turned up his smock-frock, and fumbled for some time in his jacket-pocket, he at last produced the paper and sundry small parcels from the depths of it. When he had answered all the questions and done all that was expected of him, poor Joe seemed to be at a loss how to make his escape, until his master dismissed him with a nod.

Go and ask Dinah to give you some supper, lad; and don't forget that all the lot of you are to have your dinner here on Christmas Day.'

From the beaming expression on his face there seemed to be no danger of such forgetfulness on the part of the honest fellow, who had a pleasant remembrance of many such festive meetings in years gone by in the hospitable kitchen of the old house.

When he was gone, Miriam Thorpe carefully placed the lamp on a table near her father, who prepared to enjoy his newspaper, while she looked over her various parcels and compared them with her own list, and then counted her change, more as a matter of habit than anything else, for though Joe could neither read nor write, he never made a mistake or forgot anything. Then she sat down to read over again that last letter from Amy, with the few hurried lines which had evidently been written in so much trouble of mind. Surely a few days' absence on the part of her husband could not be the only cause of this distress? And the loving aunt, who was not behind the scenes, and who knew nothing of the sad parting in anger that Wednesday night, sat wondering what could be amiss.

Meantime John Thorpe was quietly studying his Standard, every now and then reading aloud some paragraph which seemed to him particularly interesting. Loss of the steamer Zenobia off the coast of Madagascar. Five men saved after nine hours in an open boat.'

'Poor things! and in this weather, too!' was his daughter's comment, for she made it a rule to show some sign of respectful attention, however far her thoughts might wander from the subject, as they certainly did in this case.

Another terrible railway accident! Why can't people stay quietly at home? But there, it's only natural that families want to meet at Christmas, and of course they must travel to do that. But that Northern Counties line is really very unfortunate; and this was the express train, too.'

'What are you saying, father?' cried Miriam, her attention now thoroughly aroused. 'A railway accident in the north? Where? What is it?'

As she spoke she rose from her seat and went and stood behind the old man's chair, looking over his shoulder to read the tragic story for herself. But she had scarcely glanced at the words in large type at the head of the page, before they seemed to quiver before her eyes, and she trembled so much from the sudden fear which overwhelmed her that she had to cling to the chair to steady herself.

A Random Shaft.

'Terrible railway accident near Radley in Yorkshire, Northern County Line. Express train came into collision with a goods train hurled over a steep embankment. . . . .'

Then followed all the fearful details of the catastrophe, which the poor woman felt too faint and giddy to read, for she had seen the date, December 21st, early on the Thursday morning. It must have been the very train, the night express, which Amy's letter told of her husband having gone in to the north.

Her eye passed on mechanically to the list of killed and injured; but she could not distinguish names in the small print, and in the uncontrollable impulse of the moment she almost snatched away the paper, murmuring, Please, father, let me look at something.'

He watched her most unusual behaviour with mild surprise, but before he had time to remonstrate, she had dropped the sheet with a stifled cry. Her worst fears were realised; she had found the name she sought for, and so dreaded to find, amongst the sufferers.

Did

'What is it, Miriam, my dear?' asked her father in alarm. 'You look as white and frightened as if you had seen a ghost. you know any one there? Why, let me sce! It was Thursday morning. You don't mean

He could not finish the question, for a terrible foreboding had come over him.

It needed all Miriam Thorpe's powers of self-control at that moment to speak calmly. She felt that nothing could soften the blow, and that she must tell the simple truth.

Yes, father it was the train David was in, and his name is here amongst the injured. He is taken to Radley Hospital and will have every care; we must hope for the best.'

For some moments there was a painful silence, the same sad thought filled the minds of both. The old man was the first to speak:

'My poor Amy! it will break her heart if anything happens to him. And to think that she is all alone too, in that great, dreary London! Miriam, you must go to her,' he added, with sudden decision.

"That was what I thought at once, but I did not venture to suggest it,' replied his daughter, eagerly. Could you really spare me? Dinah will see to everything; though I could never have believed that any one would make me leave you by yourself at Christmas time, with the men's feast, and all the rest of it on your hands!'

'It will be a sad Christmas, indeed, to many besides ourselves!' said he, shaking his head. 'But the poor darling must not be left to herself, and perhaps she has not even heard of it yet. If I were a few years younger I would go to her myself, but I am too old to move now; and besides, you would be the most comfort.'

'I must catch the nine-o'clock train from Mere to-morrow morning,' said Miriam, not without an inward shudder, for a railway journey was a strange and terrible thing to her, and she had never been so far as London in her life. Still she was not one to shrink from danger or difficulty in the path of duty, and she bravely nerved herself for the enterprise, as a soldier might do when called upon to storm a citadel.

(To be continued.)

3-7

O tell me all about this horrible affair, Mrs. Harris. It's dreadful, isn't it?' So spoke Agnes Martin after greeting her good neighbour, who had quietly taken her baby goddaughter into her arms.

Mrs. H. 'Yes, Agnes, it is dreadful indeed; and I think, dear, that is a strong reason why you should not wish to hear any particulars concerning it.'

Agnes. Oh, but, neighbour, one can't help wishing to hear all about such things; and you can tell me so well, for you must have heard from beginning to end of the story.'

Mrs. H. 'Yes, I have heard a very sad story of deeds of sin and shame; but I did not hear it from choice: it was through being sent for to the afflicted family, and having to comfort them and meet their grief with consolation that it all came out to me.'

Agnes. But surely you would have wished to know the particulars even if you'd not been sent for! when anything so sad happens in a place one must take interest enough in one's neighbours to wish to hear the whole story.'

Mrs. H. It is a natural feeling, I believe, to desire a full knowledge of events that occur around us; yet it seems to me there are cases from which it is better and wiser to turn quite away, and of which we should do well to refuse to hear a word. For the young especially this is the best.'

Agnes. But why, Mrs. Harris, when it would seem so unneigh bourly?'

Mrs. H. Agnes dear, do you wish to eat of all the plants that grow around you just because they do grow near at hand, and though some of them are deadly poison; or do you desire to bathe in all the pools and ditches round about, though some of them are muddy and unhealthy?'

Agnes. No, of course not, neighbour; that would be unwise and childish indeed.'

Mrs. H. And yet it seems to me still more unwise and more childish to sully one's mind with knowledge of evil when there is no need, and to pry curiously into the affairs of others because they are dreadful and uncommon.'

Agnes. But don't you know the feeling, neighbour, of wishing

Village Dialogues.

to know-a sort of cagerness to get to the bottom of a thing and understand it? Surely that is not wrong.'

Mrs. H. 'I think it is natural; but it may very easily lead to wrong, and, therefore, needs restraint. There are times when selfcontrol is far better than indulgence, even for the mind; and it is always best to avoid the knowledge of evil, when it is possible to do so, for such knowledge must leave blots and stains.'

Agnes. But you know all about this wickedness, Mrs. Harris. Are you any the worse for knowing it?'

Mrs. H. As I said before, Agnes, I did not seek to know it; and now it is much better even for me to cover it over, and refuse to make my own remembrance of it more vivid by talking of it. I shall, perhaps, have to suffer something by this hateful knowledge, though I shall strive to put away the remembrance of it by prayer, and by more thought of Him Whose merits cover all sin.'

Agnes. Oh, neighbour Harris, you're very good, but I'm not satisfied yet. What made you speak of dirty ditches just now, and of poisonous plants?'

Mrs. H. I wished to make plain to you, Agnes, that you cannot mix with evil without getting hurt by it, unless indeed you've gone into it in the way of duty, and then you may safely look for God's protection to be kept from great harm.'

Agnes. But what possible harm could it do to hear what you could tell me just as you would tell it?'

Mrs. H. What possible harm could it do you to go and plunge into a ditch of stagnant, filthy water, and take a swim there?"

Agnes. Oh, neighbour, are you laughing at me? but I am really curious!'

Mrs. H. So am I really curious to hear your answer to that last question of mine.'

Agnes. Well, I suppose the smell of the nasty water would make me sick, and perhaps ill. Ugh! it's a horrid thought!'

Mrs. H. Then you will not choose to do it because of the consequences, though the still water might look tempting on a hot day. And it seems to me that sickness, and perhaps long disease of soul, may come through prying into evil things which really do not concern

us.'

Agnes. I think it does concern us as good neighbours to know what the people next door are suffering.'

Mrs. H. It's enough to know that they are in trouble, and to show them sympathy, and remember them especially in our prayers; but when their suffering comes of sin, grievous, hateful, nauseous sin, as all inhumanity and breaking of the marriage vow is, then let us be brave and beat down that natural curiosity of the mind, and refuse to injure our own purity by hearing horrid particulars.'

Agnes. Do you think it would really hurt us to hear it?'

Mrs. H. 'I do seriously think so. It seems to me you would be just as wise in making for yourself and drinking tea of the deadly nightshade, as in listening to details of sin that would be sure to leave traces of unholy thoughts behind.'

Agnes. But what can one do, Mrs. Harris, when one feels so curious?'

Hourly Thoughts of Jesus.

Mrs. H. Stop and consider a little what sort of things are best worth knowing. You are a wife and mother and a Christian matron in this place. Will the evil things you hear talked of, or that you read about in newspapers, help you to do your duties any better as a wife and mother? You know the outlines of a story of sin: there has been cruelty and unfaithfulness in a house near you. Seek to know no more, but thank God heartily for the honour and happiness of your own home, and pray Him to make you more and more faithful to your own duties as wife, mother, and matron. Pray Him, too, to have pity on the fallen, and to bring them to true penitence and pardon. Stirring events of all kinds are special calls to prayer.'

Agnes. I think your advice is good. There was a sort of horror creeping over me, and somehow I thought the only way to get rid of it would be to hear the very worst, and all about it; but I don't wish to be dragged through a ditch, and made sick and ill even in my thoughts.'

Mrs. H. 'No, dear, I am sure you do not. Guard your own purity of heart as the most precious jewel you can possess, and protect the same in others by refusing to speak to them of evil things, unless indeed in the way of advice and warning. If the thought of sin becomes familiar, then the, doing of it may become easy.'

6

Agnes. Oh, but you don't think I should ever fall into such terrible things by just hearing of them!'

Mrs. H. We are to guard the first springs of thought, dear Agnes, to keep our hearts with diligence; and do you not remember the rich blessing promised by our Lord Himself to the "pure in heart?" Can you repeat His words, Agnes?'

Agnes (reverently). "Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God."

Mrs. Harris (tenderly). 'Yes, "They shall see His face, and His name shall be in their foreheads." A blessed reward truly, and worth some struggling and self-denial here. Do you not think so, Agnes?'

Agnes. I do think so, and I do thank you for this advice.'

M. C.

HOURLY THOUGHTS OF JESUS.

(Suggested by hearing the clock strike, in wakeful hours of illness)

I. JESUS.

II. My Friend.

III. Master and Lord.

IV. The Prince of Peace.

V. The Resurrection and the Life. VI. That Great Shepherd of the Sheep.

VII. The Author and Finisher of our Faith.

Matt. i. 21. Song, v. 16. John, xiii. 13. xii. 2; xiii. 8; vii. 17. Isa. xxxii. 2.

VIII. The same, yesterday, and today, and for ever.

IX. A Priest for ever, after the order of Melchizedek.

X. The shadow of a great rock in a weary land.

XI. Head over all things to the Church, which is His Body. XII. A stone, a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation.

Isa. ix. 6. John, xi. 25. Heb. xiii. 20;
Eph. i. 22, 23. Isa. xxviii. 16.