"'Oh, I'm safe enough not to go at that rate,' was her reply.

"But she was mistaken. David had been persuaded to put his conscience to sleep by the resolution that it should only be _for once_, just to see for himself how it worked really, for good or evil. He was more than half inclined to retract his consent, when he learnt that his sister was to be of the party, but the tempter having got his victims into the net, did not let them off.

"David and Maggie found a church near the river, and went to morning service. Their evil adviser accompanied them on condition that the afternoon should be spent in the woods.

"It was not difficult to get separated in the many paths, and when the steamer's warning bell was heard, amid the hurried rush onboard, David did not discover till too late that, amongst several missing, were Maggie, and also his master's son. No entreaty could induce the captain to put back.

"Some fresh pa.s.sengers had come on board, showing views and engravings, and David, glad to divert his attention from self-reproach, amused his mind with looking through their collection, for he now repented bitterly that he had ever come--still more that he had brought his sister, and then allowed her to slip out of his charge. One of the new comers was especially friendly, explaining the views to 'cheer up his spirits.'

"When within ten minutes of landing, a boat came alongside with two or three police in plain clothes, and soon arrested, as well-known pickpockets, two of the fresh pa.s.sengers, whilst all were advised to see what they had lost. Much of the booty was found on the prisoners, but not all, which led to a general search of the pa.s.sengers. On my poor son, in his coat-pocket, was discovered the rest of the missing plunder, which had doubtless been slipped in by his friendly entertainer when he saw the police on board. David's protestations of innocence were all unavailing. The contents of his pockets were then and afterwards deemed conclusive proof of his guilt. All efforts to save him were in vain. He never breathed free air again in this life. His sentence placed him among convicts at Portland, where his health broke down under grief and disgrace. The tidings of his death reached me after I had moved here, in a kind letter from the chaplain, sending this precious relic [taking a well-worn Testament from his breast], with its marked verses of comfort and a few lines from my poor boy--all I have left of him."

A folded sheet of paper, yellow from age and tender from frequent handling, lay between the leaves of the little Book. The old man handed both to his guest. In the touching farewell to his father were the words, "You and mother know I've suffered innocently, and it's now nearly over, and I shall soon be free and with Jesus, whose precious blood has cleansed me from all sin. But, dear father, never cease to _warn_ the young of the fearful _cost of a broken Sabbath_."

The aged man wiped away some falling tears.

"I shall see my boy soon," he continued. "I've tried to keep his injunction, and, by tract given or word spoken, not to let a Sabbath go by without some warning. His mother scarcely held up her head after his trial, and did not survive her first-born many weeks, and I was left alone with our youngest--my Mary. That broken Sabbath had lost Maggie her place and character. The doors were locked against her that night, and no explanation would be accepted next day. She wrote us word she'd got another situation at a distance through a friend. We never saw her more in the old house, and lost all traces of her. Our other boy, Ned, came to us soon after his brother's trial, and, asking our consent and forgiveness for going away, said he could not hold up his head in the village, and must go to sea. We let him go, hoping time and change of scene would heal the wound, and he'd come back to us to a fresh home, for I felt like himself, that I could not stay on in the factory, and resigned my post and came here, hoping our Davie might soon be free to join us also; but the Lord set him free to go to a better mansion in the skies.

"Four years after we came here, I had a letter from a neighbour who lived hard by in the old place. What Mary had often secretly feared, came to pa.s.s. Maggie had come back, to find no home left; but the widow over the way had seen in the dusk a woman go and return, repulsed from the old door, and sit down to weep by the road-side. She brought the wanderer to her own fireside. I fetched her away, and we nursed the poor, worn, wasted one tenderly, but she had only come home with the prodigal's cry, to die--'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee.'

"That broken Sabbath was her first step to ruin, but the blessed Lord, in His rich mercy, and by the Holy Spirit's gracious leadings, led her to the fountain which makes crimson sins white as snow, and she is gone before me too.

"The doctor--a good, kind man--shook his head, and bade me keep my Mary in the fresh air, and give her plenty of new milk. He feared she had taken the seeds of disease in that long nursing, and so it proved; but, with the hopefulness of consumption, she did not believe she was going to leave me desolate, and I deceived myself, and hoped against hope, as I looked on the sweet face and lovely bloom as she lay on this bench, enjoying the sight and breath of the flowers.

"By my carving, which went to a London house, we were kept from want, and Ned sent us home, with sailor generosity, supplies of money.

"'If he'd only come himself,' said my Mary, 'it would be better than all the gold.'

"'Write and tell him so,' I said; and so we both did, and I told him of the fading away of his favourite sister, hoping it would draw him back over the sea, if anything would; but the brother and sister were not to meet here again. My Mary left me one early morn, as the sun's first streaks were gilding the sky. No answer came from my sailor son, but the good pastor who had ministered to us in our hours of sore need, came one day, and gently told me, as I sat alone, that his ship had gone down in one of the wild Atlantic storms. My boy is now safe in heaven, where there is no more sea."

The aged man ceased. His eye was on the sunset cloud, but his heart was in the spirit land. His guest, rising up to depart, took tenderly the wrinkled hand, and said, "The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away."

Then he hastened homewards, his own heart full with this touching record of _the cost of a broken Sabbath_.--_From a Tract, published by S. W.

Partridge and Co._

A SOFT PILLOW.

If the pillow be too hard, it is very unlikely that the sleep should be sound. Yet this mainly depends upon circ.u.mstances. If the conscience is easy, the pillow will be comfortable, even though a block of stone.

Jacob slept sweetly at Bethel, when the Lord appeared to him and told him that He was his G.o.d. If, on the other hand, there is guilt on the conscience, though the head is laid on the softest down, the pillow will not be altogether easy.

RECEIVING THE TRUTH.

Mrs. Le Pla was a French lady, who came over to England in the younger part of her life, with much of the vivacity for which the French nation has been remarkable. She was particularly under the eye of a grave, Pharisaic lady, by whom she was persuaded to go to church, but the dull manner in which the clergyman performed his office disgusted her so much, that she withheld her attention, and fell asleep. At this, her English friend was exceedingly angry, and reproved her sharply.

On another Lord's Day her friend took her to hear Dr. F----, but his excessive action provoked her to such a degree that she burst into a loud laugh, and she was desired to walk out of the place of worship, where she had certainly shown too little regard for the Divine Being and His worshippers.

On returning home, she was very properly and severely remonstrated with, at which she was much hurt. She replied, in broken English, "What can I do, madam? I go to church to please you, and there I fall asleep. I go to meeting, and there I laugh; and to tell you the truth, I begin to think my own religion is not the right religion, for that teaches me to worship images, and G.o.d says, 'Thou shalt _not_ make any graven image.'

If, therefore, madam, I go to any place of worship, it shall be to hear a Mr. Whitefield, for I have heard great things of him."

"Well," said her English friend, "we will inquire where he preaches."

The good man was then dead. The ladies therefore went to the Tabernacle, Moorfields. Mr. T. Knight was the preacher, and the native of France, enraptured, cried out--

"This is the good and right doctrine! Here I will attend."

"Yes," said the prudent, self-righteous lady, "it is my opinion that they believe in predestination here, and you cannot think it right that G.o.d made any of His creatures to be d.a.m.ned?"

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Le Pla; "but I will certainly inquire for myself."

The next opportunity was eagerly embraced, and the zealous inquirer, seating herself by a good old woman of the congregation, whispered--

"Pray, madam, do they believe in predestination here?"

"Why, predestination," said she, "how can they avoid believing it? The Bible is full of it."

The querist was thunderstruck. She hastened home.

"Do they believe in predestination there?"

"An old lady told me they did," was the reply. "But," said the French lady, "I am determined to ask the minister myself."

Not long after, she had an interview with Mr. Knight.

"Pray, sir," said she, "will you allow me to ask you a few questions?"

"By all means," said the good man.

"Then you must know," said Mrs. Le Pla, "I was brought up a Roman Catholic, and I think that is not the right religion, because they worship images, and I come to hear you with pleasure, sir. But my friends tell me you believe in predestination, and a good old lady, one of your congregation, confirms it. I have therefore taken the liberty to ask yourself about it."

Mr. Knight said to her, "Do not believe what every old woman says to you. Do you believe you are a sinner?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"Do you feel the want of Jesus Christ?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Then," said Mr. Knight, "continue to hear the Word of G.o.d, and search the Scriptures to see whether I preach the truth or not."

She took his advice, and some little time after, he preached on the subject of predestination, and desired his hearers to compare what he had to say with their Bibles. The French lady did so, and was quite overcome with conviction of the truth. The question now was not with her, whether predestination was a truth of G.o.d or not, but whether she was one of the happy number appointed to salvation.

She afterwards became established in the truth, was joined to Mr.