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BLASTED HOPES.

BLASTED HOPES.

BUT UT one short hour since she left them, and all the labour of a spring-time gone! The well-built home thrown down; the tender, callow brood destroyed! The axe of the woodman has done it, let us hope in ignorance, but all the same, the blow has been struck, and the circling flight round the cut-down tree, and the mournful wail of the parent bird show that the hope of coming summer days has been blasted. The pencil of the artist has depicted in the lower order of animal life what is happening every day in the higher. There is another, whose keen, glittering axe is cutting down day by day the young on whom the hopes of fond hearts have been resting. It has happened ere now to many a loving father and mother to look upon the broad brow, the sparkling eye, the quick, apt nature of their child, and to find that within a few short hours, all the hopes they were cherishing of a great and noble future for the loved one have been laid low, and that the future of greatness and nobility was not to be enjoyed on earth, but in another and purer world.

I have seen blasted hopes of a sadder kind than even this. At a Parish school in Perthshire, there was some forty years ago, a pupil whose progress in learning was so rapid as to excite in the heart of his teacher and of his friends the hope that he would rise to great position in the world. His parents, who were in humble life, straitened themselves that they might give their eldest son the advantage of a University education. During the first two sessions he filled the highest place. The University felt proud of him, and it was hoped that he would be an honour to the most ancient seat of learning in Scotland. At the end of his third year the high place which he had formerly taken was no longer his. People outside were astonished that he who had with ease carried off all the highest honours of his year, should have fallen so low in the rank of merit. The secret could not be long kept. Poor W- had become fond of strong drink, had listened to the voice of the tempter, and body and mind sank

rapidly before the foe. Many years since I stood in a quiet country churchyard by a grave covered with long grass, rank docks, and nettles; and moving them aside found buried beneath them a rude stone with 'J. W., aged 20,' carved upon it; and I knew that beneath that again lay the blasted hope of loving hearts, and the wreck of a ship that had been freighted with precious gold, but which had sunken beneath the dark waters, never to know a resurrection to honour and glory.

I cannot, however, leave off these remarks with so sad a tale as this. While mingling very frequently with young people, I see at times how their hopes, too, are often disappointed. In our Sabbath school, for instance, we had arranged for a trip which was to eclipse all former excursions in pleasantness and enjoyment. It was the subject of conversation among us for days. Flags were looked out, flag-staffs were got ready, and many proposals were made as to the best mode of spending the few halfpence which had found their way into the pockets of the intending excursionists. In fact, as the time drew near, little else was talked of but, our excursion.' Little weather-prophets, looking up wisely to the blue skies, were speaking of the certainty of a beautiful day; and when the day came, lo! one steady down-pour of pitiless rain, and all the high hopes were scattered to the winds. The trip had to be given up, and we really thought it was hard-very hard. And yet I never had a better illustration of how a blasted hope may prove a real blessing; for if all things had gone as we wished there might have been sorrow in many a home, and anguish in many a heart. On the line of railway, over part of which the excursion must have passed that forenoon, and about the time it would have been passing, an accident took place which might have proved disatrous to the train of intending excursionists. The lesson was not, I hope, thrown away upon our young friends, for they must have learned from it that seeming evil, and present disappointment are often real good, and actual blessing.

IT

COUSIN JAMES.

COUSIN JAMES.

'O for August! I wish it were come,
And we would have some royal fun.'

'T was in that month we got our holidays when I was at school. For six or eight weeks before they came, every door and smooth piece of wall near the Academy had these two lines scribbled on them. Very poor rhyme they were, but they showed our longings to have done with lessons for a time.

When the examination was over, and the prizes presented to the victors, we broke up with a joyful huzza. To get to the country was the wish of most of us, for it was a nice change after being so long in town.

I had the happiness of having an uncle and aunt who invited me often to visit them in August. Uncle had a large farm, and very much did I like to stay there. So many things were new to me, and the air so fresh, and everything to eat was so good, that I never wearied. My joy would not have been complete, however, without cousin James and his donkey. James was but two or three years older than myself. His father had bought him a donkey, a very strong one it was; and he and I had many grand rides on it, for it was quite able to carry us both at once.

James was a very pleasant friend. He and I always got on well together; and I slept beside him at night.

I had always been taught to pray at home. At the farm-house I did not neglect the duty; but knelt and prayed when I had dressed in the morning, and before taking off my clothes at night. James, being older, was generally a little later of going to bed than myself. I used to watch whether he kneeled in the bed-room, or not. I do not think he ever did when I was there. Perhaps he went elsewhere to pray. I noticed one thing, however, that was a rebuke to

me.

Never did he go to sleep a single night without my hearing him, every now and then, in a gentle whisper, saying, 'Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.'

In those days I fear I was a little like the Pharisees. Dear cousin James had more of the spirit of prayer than I.

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The happy days of boyhood passed rapidly away; and to the harder business of life James and I had to set ourselves. I was working in my native town, but James remained at the farm. He grew up a strong, handsome fellow. His father died, and then he took the lead in managing the land for his mother. A most loving and faithful son was he; and he had learned his farming lessons well. There was not better tilled land in all the country side.

One morning cousin James was going to the market town, about ten miles off, to sell some of his produce. He had gone out after an early breakfast to mount his pony, and start on the journey. He saw, however, a dismal black cloud coming rapidly over a hill a mile or two from the farm-house. It showed a heavy shower to be near at hand, and the horse was ordered back to the stable till the rain had gone by. James went into the parlour, and sat down to wait on the sofa, just below an upright barometer which hung on the wall.

Not many minutes had passed till black clouds were all over the sky, and a terrible thunder storm began to rage. The rain fell in torrents, and my aunt was glad that her son had waited. Suddenly a terrible peal was heard. The whole house shook. It had been struck on one of the chimneys by a thunderbolt. The lightning, in one instant, was in and out of the house. In its passage, as it rushed across the main rooms, it tore down heaps of plaster. All but cousin James ran out of the parlour in fear. He seemed to be quietly resting where he had first sat down. In two or three minutes a servant came in and spake to him, but he gave no answer. She touched him, and lo! he was dead!

The lightning had ran along the bell wire, and a portion of it had rushed down the tube of mercury in the barometer. The glass was all broken, and the quicksilver had dropped on my dear cousin's head. In one moment, he had been struck dead. He looked just as if asleep.

It was a sad shock to my dear aunt, and to every one of us. The news reached the town where I lived in a few hours; and I

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A WET SUNDAY AFTERNOON.

mourned as for the loss of an elder brother. In my sorrow, I found comfort in the remembrance of my cousin's nightly prayer; and I trust our Father in Jesus had received the spirit so suddenly unclothed, and which James had so often commended into His kind hands.

How quickly is life on earth sometimes brought to an end! The youngest of my readers may be the first called into the unseen. Are we all ready to go, yet willing to wait?'

The words of my cousin's prayer were the last used by the blessed Saviour, ere He breathed His life away on the cross. We find a very similar utterance by David in the 31st Psalm: 'Into Thy hand I commit my spirit: Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.' And we know that Paul acted out this very thing, for He says that Jesus was able to keep what he had committed to His Redeemer's care.

What is the most precious thing we have? Is it not the soul? If we lose that, we lose everything. Where can we put it that it may be safe in life and in death? Only into the hands of Jesus, whom our Father sent to seek and to save us.

Let us

all do so without delay. Let each of us say, 'Lord Jesus, keep me, for I trust in Thee;' and then we shall never perish.

HOW TO EMPLOY AN HOUR ON A WET SUNDAY AFTERNOON.

IN

a country house, a long way from church, we had various resources for a wet Sunday afternoon. I will tell you about one, which taught us a great deal of the Bible in a very lively and un-lessonlike way. Our home party consisted of an aunt and an elder sister, two younger girls, and a boy; but there were often young visitors in the house, and these always joined us.

We began by choosing some connected portion of Scripture history; for instance, the three short chapters containing the history of Asa. These are read, verse about, with the greatest attention, for no one likes to be behindhand in what is to follow. Then we will suppose A. is willing to begin. While all the rest keep their

Bibles open, she has to close hers, and submit to a fire of questions upon what we have read. She can answer B.'s question, and C.'s too, but D. asks-'Where did Asa burn his mother's idol?' and she does not remember. So D. tells her that it was at the brook Kidron; and now he must close his Bible and be questioned, while A may re-open hers, and take turn in questioning.

With every round of questions we get more and more familiar with the chapters, and so better able to hold our ground, when, having succeeded in puzzling our neighbour, they are all trying to puzzle us. As we go on, so far from questions being exhausted, more and more seem to be invented, for the verses are now cut up into little bits, and almost every word is a peg to hang another question upon. Even G. who has the cleverest head and the best memory cannot long hold the post honour, for the most exact answers will be required from her, as to which cities Benhadad's captains smote, or how many men of Benjamin there were in Asa's army. 'I think it was two hundred and threescore thousand,' she says. "No!' cries little E., 'it was two hundred and fourscore thousand! so now it is my turn!'

At last we seem to know the chapters by heart, but no one likes to leave off, they can see just one more question to ask which may prove a puzzler, add just one more, and just one more! and so the intended hour is generally far exceeded, and nothing but a very decided peel from the tea-bell puts an end to it.

When we go down to tea even the grown-up people feel that they know all the little ins and outs of Asa's story very much more exactly than they ever did before; while the little ones have learnt what would have cost them several Bible lessons to acquire, in such a delightfully easy and entertaining way, that it has not seemed like an exercise at all, and they are quite fresh and ready for any more serious employment which may follow later on.

Only, my little friends must understand that this was not instead of the serious, prayerful, and thoughtful Bible reading which should form part of every Sunday's

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