When next Sunday came, Jack could not stand straight, for his back was covered with sores and scars. But, with his Testament in his hand, he stood before the people of the plantation, and said, "Mas'r whip me mos' ter death last Monday, an' I don't know but he will kill me tomorrow, but if he does, I shall not suffer more than Jesus did when he died on the cross for us."

Monday morning the master called him and said,

"Jack, I hear you have been preaching again."

"Yes, mas'r. I must go an' tell sinners how Christ was wounded for our transgressions, how he sweat drops of blood for us in the garden, an' wore that cruel crown of thorns that we might wear a crown of joy when he comes."

"But I don't want to hear your preaching. Now bare your back, and take the flogging I told you I should give you if you went off preaching."

Fast flew the cruel lashes, until Jack's back was covered with wounds and blood.

"Now, Jack, go down to the cotton-field and go to work. I reckon you'll never want to preach again."

When the next Sunday came, Jack's back was in a terrible condition. But, hobbling along, he found his friends in the neighboring plantation, and said:--

"Mas'r whipped me mos' ter death last Monday, but if I can only get you to come to Jesus and love him, I am willing to die for your sake tomorrow."

If there were scoffers there, do you not think they were led to believe there was a reality in religion? If any were there who were inclined to think that ministers preach only when they get money for it, do you not think they changed their minds when they saw what wages Jack got? Many were in tears, and some gave themselves to that Saviour for whose sake Jack was willing to die the death of a martyr.

Next morning the master called Jack, and said,

"Make bare your back again; for I told you that just as sure as you went off preaching, I would whip you till you gave it up."

The master raised the ugly whip, and as he looked at Jack's back, all lacerated, he could find no new place to strike, and said:--

"Why do you do it, Jack? You know that as surely as you go off preaching Sunday, I will whip you most to death the next day. No one pays you anything for it. All you get is a terrible flogging, which is taking your life from you."

"Yer ax me, mas'r, what I'se doin' it fer. I'll tell you, mas'r. I'se goin'

ter tak all dos stripes an' all dos scars, mas'r, up to Jesus, by an' by, to show him how faithful I'se been, 'cause he loved you an' me, mas'r, an'

bled an' died on the cross for you an' me, mas'r."

The whip dropped, and that master could not strike another blow. In a subdued tone he said:--

"Go down in the cotton-field."

Do you think Jack went away cursing his master, saying, "O Lord, punish him for all his cruelty to me"?

No, no! His prayer was, "Lord, forgive him, for Jesus Christ's sake."

About three o'clock, a messenger came down to the cotton-field, crying: "Mas'r dyin'! Mas'r's dyin'! Come quick, Jack. Mas'r's dyin'!"

In his private room, Jack found his master on the floor in agony, crying: "O Jack, I'm sinking down to h.e.l.l! Pray for me! Pray for me!"

"I'se been prayin' for you all de time, mas'r. You mus' pray for yourse'f."

"I don't know how to pray, Jack. I know how to swear, but I don't know how to pray."

"You mus' pray, mas'r."

And finally they both prayed, and G.o.d revealed Christ on the cross to him, and then and there he became a changed man.

A few days after, he called Jack to him and said:--

"Jack, here are your freedom papers. They give you your liberty. Go and preach the gospel wherever you will, and may the Lord's blessing go with you."

While telling this story at the convention, I noticed a man, perhaps sixty years of age, with quite gray hair, who was deeply moved. When I had finished, he sprang to his feet, and, with a clear but tremulous voice, said:--

"I stand for Jack. Mr. Hammond has been speaking of me. He has been trying to tell my sufferings, but he cannot describe the terrible agony I endured at the hands of my master, who, because I was determined to preach the gospel on the plantations around us, every Monday morning for three weeks called me up and laid the cruel lash upon my back with his own hands until my back was like raw beef. But G.o.d helped me to pray for him, until he was forgiven and saved through Christ. And, thank G.o.d, Jack still lives."

I have given you only a few of his burning words, but I can tell you there were many eyes filled with tears during this touching scene, which will not soon be forgotten by those who witnessed it.--_E. Hammond, in "Early Conversion."_

HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER

Here is a touching story told of the famous Dr. Samuel Johnson which has had an influence on many a boy who has heard it. Samuel's father Michael Johnson, was a poor bookseller in Lichfield, England. On market-days he used to carry a package of books to the village of Ottoxeter, and sell them from a stall in the market-place. One day the bookseller was sick, and asked his son to go and sell the books in his place. Samuel, from a silly pride, refused to obey.

Fifty years afterward Johnson became the celebrated author, the compiler of the English Dictionary, and one of the most distinguished scholars in England; but he never forgot his act of unkindness to his poor, hard-toiling father. So when he visited Ottoxeter, he determined to show his sorrow and repentance. He went into the market-place at the time of business, uncovered his head, and stood there for an hour in the pouring rain, on the very spot where the bookstall used to stand. "This," he says, "was an act of contrition for my disobedience to my kind father."

The spectacle of the great Dr. Johnson standing bareheaded in the storm to atone for the wrong done by him fifty years before, is a grand and touching one. There is a representation of it in marble on the doctor's monument.

Many a man in after-life has felt something harder and heavier than a storm of rain beating upon his heart when he remembered his acts of unkindness to a good father or mother now in the grave.

Dr. John Todd, of Pittsfield, the eminent writer, never forgot how, when his old father was very sick, and sent him away for medicine, he, a little lad, been unwilling to go, and made up a lie, saying that the druggist had no such medicine.

The old man was dying when little Johnny came in, but he said to Johnny, "My boy, your father suffers great pain for want of that medicine."

Johnny started, in great distress, for the medicine, but it was too late.

On his return the father was almost gone. He could only say to the weeping boy, "Love G.o.d, and always speak the truth; for the eye of G.o.d is always upon you. Now kiss me once more, and farewell."

Through all his after-life, Dr. Todd often had a heartache over that act of falsehood and disobedience to his dying father. It takes more than a shower to wash away the memory of such sins.

The words, "Honor thy father and thy mother," mean three things,--always do what they bid you, always treat them lovingly, and take care of them when they are sick and grown old. I never yet knew a boy who trampled on the wishes of his parents who turned out well. G.o.d never blesses a wilful boy.

When Washington was sixteen years old, he determined to leave home and become a midshipman in the colonial navy. After he had sent off his trunk, he went to bid his mother good-by. She wept so bitterly because he was going away that he said to his Negro servant: "Bring back my trunk. I am not going to wake my mother suffer so, by leaving her."

He remained at home to please his mother. This decision led to his becoming a surveyor, and afterward a soldier. His whole glorious career in life turned on simple act of trying to make his mother happy, happy, too, will be the child who never has occasion to shed bitter tears for any act of unkindness to his parents. Let us not forget that G.o.d has said,

"Honor thy father and thy mother."--_Theodore L. Cuyler, in Pittsburgh Christian Advocate_.

THE SLEIGH-RIDE