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ONE

'DARE TO BE A DANIEL.’

NE Sabbath afternoon, a boy might have been seen standing in the chief street of the little town of Seahome. It was a beautiful day in September. Not a cloud was in sight to mar the blue expanse above. The sun was shining with autumn warmth, and seemed to smile upon the sea, which danced in tiny ripples beneath his cheering beams. The birds, too, were in harmony with the rest of nature, singing their song of praise to the God who made them. Not even the reaping machine, which had been busy all week cutting the golden grain, disturbed the Sabbath quiet; and everything seemed to declare that the Sabbath was a day of peace and joy. Did I say everything? One object alone was an exception, and that was the boy whom I have mentioned, standing idly in the street. Let us learn a little about him.

Tom Wilson, for that was his name, was an orphan. His father had died when Tom was a baby, and left his wife to struggle for the support of their son. Never very strong, her health gradually gave way, and at last she died, when Tom was only eight years old. Since then he had served as a newsboy; and, although he was now thirteen, he knew little except the price of his papers, and the few articles he had occasion to buy. His Sundays were spent in idleness, when it was not the time for bird-nesting. Churches, he thought, were only for, the rich; so Sunday was the day that Tom thought longest.

On this particular afternoon he was wearying till dusk, that he might go to the wretched room where he was to pass the night. As he stood gazing about him, a sound of singing reached his ears. He listened; it was coming from a church at the top of the street. Tom was fond of singing, so he slipped up to the door, that he might hear more clearly. The Sabbath school was drawing to a close, and the children were singing their parting hymn. The lesson had been about Daniel, and the hymn they were singing was the well known 'Dare to be a Daniel.' That's a nice tune,' thought Tom to himself, as he stood

at the door. When they had sung two verses, Tom noticed that the chorus was always repeated; so before the hymn was finished, he had picked up the words :

'Dare to be a Daniel !

Dare to stand alone!

Dare to have a purpose firm!

Dare to make it known.'

At last, to Tom's great disappointment, the voices ceased; and in a short time the children left the church to go to their happy homes, little thinking that the ragged boy at the street corner had been listening to their hymn. When the last scholar had turned the corner, and the street was quiet again, with a sigh Tom, too, began to think of going to his miserable lodging, the only home he now knew.

The sun was now far in the west, sending a parting flood of glory over the sea, as if to bid the tiny ripples an affectionate good-night. The birds, too, had finished their song, and were settled in their nests. As he paced along the silent streets, the words of the hymn kept sounding in Tom's ears, Dare to be a Daniel.' 'What can that mean? I know what "dare" means; but what can "Dare to be a Daniel" mean?'-such were the puzzling thoughts that kept passing through his mind. By this time he had turned down one of the poorer streets, and a few minutes more brought him in front of a house, which did not look like very comfortable quarters. More than half of the panes of glass were broken, the holes being covered with paper, and the door hung by only one hinge. Above the entrance was painted in large, but badlyshaped letters, 'Lodgings-one penny a night.' Into this house Tom turned, and, throwing himself on the floor in a corner of the room, was soon fast asleep, dreaming that he again heard the hymn, 'Dare to be a Daniel,' only sung by sweeter voices that belonged to this earth.

When Monday morning came, Tom was at his post selling the papers as usual. All that day the question still puzzled him— 'What can it mean, daring to be a Daniel ? '

At night he met some of his companions, who asked him to come and play at pitchand-toss. Tom was one of the best players at this game; sometimes losing coppers, but generally winning. Somehow or other, the words of the hymn seemed to sound louder in his ears when they asked him, and he felt he should not play. So, having refused, he turned away without minding the jeers of the other boys that he was frightened to lose his pennies.

When the next Sunday came, he went to the church again, to listen if the same hymn would be sung. He had to go away disappointed, for although the children sang pretty hymns, they did not sing the one he wanted. That night, as Tom lay awake, he made up his mind he would ask the first nice-looking gentleman that bought a paper to explain what he wanted. Monday morning was wet, and everybody was in a hurry, so Tom did not venture to ask any one. Tuesday, however, was as fine a day as could be wished. His first customer was an old gentlemen. 'He looks too cross,' thought Tom, and so he let him pass. The next was a young man. 'He's too proud,' said Tom, and he did not ask him either. Several passed without pleasing him; but at last a middle-aged gentleman appeared. 'He'll do,' said Tom; and, as if to give him time, the gentleman handed him a sixpence, and waited for the change.

'Please, sir,' asked Tom, as he handed back the fivepence, 'what does it mean to "dare to be a Daniel "?'

'Why do you ask?' said the gentleman, looking interested. In a few words Tom told his story.

I have not time to tell you just now,' said the gentleman, but come to my house at seven, and I'll answer your question.' He told Tom where he lived, and, with a smile, bade him 'good-morning.'

Prompt at seven, our friend was at the house. He was evidently expected, for the servant took him in at once, and gave him some tea. I need not tell all the gentleman said; how he told Tom about Daniel and his piety, and about his being cast into the

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den of lions; how he explained, in simple words, what it meant to 'dare to be a Daniel' honest amid temptations to dishonesty, truthful even when a lie would bring gain; and how he told him about a greater than Daniel, who loved him and died for him.

This was the turning-point of Tom's life. He went to a night-school, and, encouraged by his kind friend, soon learned to read. By and by he was received into the bookseller's shop for which he sold the papers; and there, for the present, we will bid him good-bye, with the wish that he may go on as he has begun.

We are now at the close of another year. In a few weeks 1877 will be past, never to be recalled. There are special temptations at such a time. The New Year, alas! is too often begun in idleness, drunkenness, gambling, and swearing. Resist these, one and all. If you begin the year in God's service, and strive, as month after month passes by, to continue so doing, 1878 will prove a truly happy year, and when December has come again, you will be able to say, 'Through a whole year I have tried to dare to be a Daniel.'

PEEPS AT ROME.

THE FORUM.

J. M'M.

IN N the 'Peep' for the month of March we gave a short description of the Roman Forum. In the present number we present our readers with what may perhaps please them better, a picture of the great centre of Roman law and life. As our space is very limited, our readers will turn back to page 26 and refresh their memories with what we have said there by way of general description. Meanwhile, we shall confine our attention to the portion of the Forum which our engraving brings before us. Look at the ruin on the right. This is all that remains of the temple of Saturn, the ancient god of the Capitol. The columns are eight in number, and belong to the Ionic order. A little farther on, on the same side, you see three columns