64

what happy faces the boys and girls have. The gentleman who taught the class that I was in, spoke so kindly to us, and told us so many things that I did not know before, that I could not help liking him.'

Johnnie's father, was one of those kindhearted, honourable, lovable sort of persons, who seem to be all that one could wish, excepting that they neglect the one thing needful. Having never felt the need of a Saviour themselves, they cannot teach their children the necessity of seeking Him; and so, while loving them tenderly, they often by their example hinder them from entering the kingdom.

Johnnie's father would not knowingly have injuired his childern, and yet he gave them no religious instruction, and allowed them to spend the Sabbath as they chose.

A companion who attended a Sabbath School in the neighbourhood, had persuaded Johnnie to accompany him one evening, that he might see for himself the good to be got by going there.

Johnnie was so pleased with what he saw and heard that evening, that whenever he got home, he told his father that he wished to become a regular scholar.

Happily, the class which he joined was taught by a gentleman whose heart was in the work he had undertaken. His great aim was to bring every boy in his class to the Saviour, and for this end, he spared no pains to make his teaching interesting. And he seldom failed.

The parable of the sower was the subject of the lesson, the first time Johnnie was present; and the teacher at once fixed his attention by describing the boat in which Jesus sat when he spake the parable, the little creek in which the boat lay, and the crowds on the shore round it, listening to His words.

Having thus succeeded in gaining the attention of his class, the teacher read the parable slowly and distinctly, then he heard the boys read it, and by skilful questioning fixed in their minds the circumstances of the story. He told them what a wonderful thing a seed is, that though it seems a little hard lifeless thing, it contains a living germ,

which, when sown in good ground, springs up and becomes a beautiful stalk of corn; that the seeds produced by this one stalk would, in a few years, cover acres of land with an abundant harvest.

But what if the seed is cast on the hard roadside? rocky places? or among thorns? he asked, and the boys answered readily.

'Then what must be done to such places to make them fit for receiving the seed?'

'The stones must be taken away, the thorns rooted out and the ground ploughed and harrowed,' the boys replied.

Then passing from the earthly story to its heavenly meaning, the teacher read the explanation which Jesus gave his own disciples when alone with Him in the house they asked Him saying, 'What might this parable be?' (Mark iv. 10. Luke viii. 9.)

'Now the parable is this:-The seed is the word of God. Those by the wayside are they that hear; then cometh the devil, and taketh away the word out of their hearts, lest they should believe and be saved. They on the rock are they, which, when they hear, receive the word with joy; and these have no root, which for a while believe, and in time of temptation fall away. And that which fell among thorns are they, which, when they have heard, go forth, and are choked with cares and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to perfection. But that on the good ground are they, which in an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience.

Take heed therefore how ye hear; for whosoever hath, to him shall be given; and whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he seemeth to have.'

In closing, the teacher told the story of Felix, who, when Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, trembled, yet being only a wayside hearer, put off till a more convenient season, which never came; of Herod, who heard the preaching of John the Baptist gladly, still, being only a stony ground hearer, the word had no root in his heart, and when exhorted to give up his sinful life, he turned away from the truth; of

66

EMINENT MEN

OF THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES.

FRANCIS DE SALES.

FROM Pascal, one turns with gladness to the gentle Francis De Sales. Francis De Sales died one year before Pascal was born. Yet there is a pleasure in turning to his life, not in the order of years, but as a relief of greenness after that ascetic life, which almost feared to suffer love given or love received.

Francis De Sales was noble, and was born at the castle of Sales in Savoy, on the 21st day of August, 1567. From his first years a wonderful sweetness of nature endeared him to all who knew him. And before these first years were passed, the wish to serve God with all his life had filled his whole child nature-a wish which never passed away.

He studied at Paris, and then in Italy, and when he was twenty-six years old came home to the castle in Savoy, before beginning his long and earnest work of preaching to the poor. His features were beautiful, his manners full of winning grace, and brilliant prospects lay before him in the gay and busy world.

His father saw, with some disgust, all that his son must give up if he entered the course which seemed to lie before him. But Francis would not renounce the cherished object of his heart, and so among the Swiss Valleys he began his ministry. He travelled about on foot from one little town to another, in the plainest and simplest guise, teaching wherever he went.

And wherever he went the people were drawn to him by his gentle and earnest eloquence, and the charm of his personal grace. But stronger than all, they were drawn by the charm of the love of God, which seemed to light, as with ethereal beauty, the character of Francis De Sales. The little children crowded round him, and it began to be said among the Valleys that his smile and his touch were like a spoken blessing. Morning and night, and summer and winter, he was seen in the lonely villages, preaching and doing what his heart and hand could devise.

But he was not long to be allowed to remain in his loved obscurity. Much against his own desire he was made the Bishop of Geneva. Still the simplicity of his life remained unchanged. He had but the more to bestow upon the poor; for himself it mattered nothing. He kept neither horse nor carriage, but far, in all nooks among the mountains, visited his people on foot. His generosity was boundless; all he had was shared by whoever was in want. He felt nothing his own. 'Our master is a saint,' complained one of his servants, but he will bring himself and all of us to poverty.'

6

And his friends remonstrated with him, when they discovered the privations he bore in secret, that he might have the more to give. Yet, he did not, like Pascal, bear hardship, because he thought hardship was in itself good. He loved beautiful and pleasant things. A book of counsel and devotion which he wrote, was burned by an austere monk, who thought it favoured too much the common duties and happinesses of daily life.

He

But the especial pleasure of Francis was found in the love of little children. was constantly surrounded by them. They gathered round him when he went into the street, eager, each of them, for his caress and smile. It was said the sweetness of his look would soothe a fretful baby, when all its mother's arts and endearments had been tried in vain.

And once a week he gathered a large class of children round him, and taught them as none other taught them, with such earnestness and love. An hour before the time appointed, a man went round the town, ringing a bell and crying,

'Little children, come to Christian teaching; little children, come to Christian teaching; you shall be taught the way to Paradise.

And the children went in eager crowds, they loved their teacher so well. And he taught them the gracious words which Jesus taught below; how he had given His life for them, and how they must obey Him, and serve Him, and learn to know Him

well, and love Him as their dearest friend, and trust Him for everything they needed. There is another story told of hima beautiful story, which shows the strange power of his tranquil, prayerful love.

A priest, among these lonely mountains, had by some cause lost his reason. His keepers had to put chains and fetters on him, he was so fierce in his madness. He was the terror of all who had to go near him. One keeper would not enter the cell alone-his insane fury had given him such unnatural strength. Francis De Sales heard the story, and one day he went to visit him. The men who had charge of the maniac were astonished, and implored the bishop not to enter. To go in to that frightful cell, unarmed and alone, as Francis had determined to do, was at the peril of his life. But the bishop would not hear their protests; he ordered the cell to be opened. And while the keepers watched in terror, he entered quietly, alone. He laid one gentle hand on the madman's dishevelled hair, with the other, he softly pressed the poor wild hand.

'My brother, have faith in God,' he said in the tender steadfast voice which soothed the little children in the Valleys.

And then a wonder was seen. Long afterwards, when Francis De Sales had passed away from earth, it was written in his life as a miracle, and men said he had been gifted with the supernatural power which the apostles had in the early days of the church.

But we know that love works many a miracle and the sweet calm of that devoted life; might well touch, with a healing charm, the poor priest, who heard no sounds but those of hate and fear. The frenzy passed completely away, and Francis De Sales took him home with him, restored to his right mind.

He took him to his palace, supplied him with all he needed, and entertained him as his guest. Then, when he was quite well, confirmed in health of body and mind, he sent him home to his own people, and the madness from that day never returned again.

The life of Francis is full of other instances of the great and gentle power he