Alfred looked greatly disappointed, but replied that his name was Alfred de Blenal.

"What! the son of Madame de Blenal, of ----?"

"The same."

"You are no longer a stranger, sir. Your excellent mother's piety and benevolence are well known to all the country around. Well, sir, as you seem distressed by my refusal, I will accept your liberal offer, but not for myself. I will only take it as trustee for these three boys, to be applied to their future maintenance, till they are able to support themselves."

"Excellent man!" replied Alfred, deeply affected. "This sum will hardly be sufficient for your benevolent purpose, and it will give us pleasure to make it up to such an amount as may be required. I have promised to return to the persons who are expecting me by midnight, and I fear they will be uneasy at my prolonged absence. Take it, then, Monsieur Gervais, and whenever you require a little more money for the good works you may find occasion to perform in your neighbourhood, do not fail to put me under contribution. I shall tell my friends all I have seen and heard, and be a.s.sured that they will envy me my good fortune. Farewell, and remember that, by applying to me when you want anything, either for yourself or others, you will only prove that I have inspired you with sentiments of esteem and friendship."

Saying this, Alfred gave the charcoal burner a cordial embrace, and departed.

The thoughts of Michel, the guide, as he descended the mountain, were very different from those with which he had gone up. He was an altered man from that night.

Midnight had pa.s.sed. The supper was waiting at Madame de Blenal's. The guests were beginning to be impatient, some from hunger, some from curiosity, but more from anxiety. Had he miscalculated the distance? Had he mistaken the way? Had he met with an accident? The former conjectures were spoken aloud; the latter was only whispered by some who were not within Madame de Blenal's hearing. She herself remained silent, but perfectly calm. We do not say that the mother's heart was free from anxiety, but there was a remedy within it which served as a preventive against all idle and unnecessary fears. The eye of G.o.d was upon her son, and she knew that his own trust was fixed upon His saving arm. She knew, too, that, although full of the spirit and buoyancy of youth, he would avoid the sin of running into needless danger. If an accident had detained him, it was permitted as a trial of her faith, and she was prepared to submit.

The impatience of the party was just beginning to reach its height, when the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard. Every eye was turned to the door, which was soon opened, and Alfred stood before them, smiling, cheerful, and uninjured, though in a condition that at first occasioned some alarm, but soon excited a burst of laughter.

"Here is ocular proof," cried one, "that he has seen the charcoal burner."

"And been at close quarters with him," said another. "He is covered with soot."

"Why, Mr. Alfred," said a young lady, "one would think you had embraced him!"

"I have, mademoiselle, and I am not ashamed of owning it. Had you seen what I have, you would have done the same, without considering your dress."

"Why, what have you seen?" was asked by more than one.

"I have found a preacher of righteousness, 'a teacher of babes,' in the forest--one who is an example to us all--and I have learned that, whatever our station in life may be, we may do good service to our Lord."

Alfred then gave a full detail of his adventure.

"So then," said the old lady who had decided the question about the money, "while we were indulging in foolish conjectures, and idly jesting about this worthy man, he was engaged in the pious task of teaching young boys to read G.o.d's holy Word, and the eye of that G.o.d was upon us all. My dear young friends, this is a lesson which I trust you will never forget. I see by your looks that it has produced its effect, and given birth to serious thoughts in your hearts. G.o.d has caused your inconsiderate frolic to turn out well, and I suspect that this will be a happy day for the pupils of Gervais. The orphans will not want protectors. Now let us go to supper. Our friend Alfred must be hungry after his ride, and he has well earned his meal."

These words, together with the circ.u.mstances that gave rise to them, made a deep and salutary impression upon the hearers. The supper pa.s.sed cheerfully, and the conversation turned upon what could best be done for the charcoal burner and the poor orphans. Many plans were proposed, and at last one was suggested which met with general approbation.

The young men, in consequence, all visited the mountain forest and the hut, which, under their exertions and superintendence, soon disappeared, and a comfortable chalet rose in its place, in which Gervais continued for many summers to pursue his useful labours, and more than one or two successive generations of boys owed their teaching to him, and their establishment in the world to the care of the patrons whom Alfred's visit had, by G.o.d's mercy, raised up for them.

FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT.

In a conversation with the late Richard de Courcy, John Berridge observed that he had, for many years, been preaching up self, but not Christ Jesus the Lord:--

I was a length of time in Arminian fetters. John and Charles Wesley got me into their cradle, and the devil kept rocking; but the Holy Spirit, in a most remarkable manner, delivered me from the sleep of sin by slaying the legality of my heart. I used to lament the unprofitableness of my preaching, and though I was a dealer in fire and brimstone, I could make no impression on my hearers.

One day, my man Thomas was sawing a st.u.r.dy piece of oak, and, as I was standing by him, he threw down his saw, and turning to me, said, "Master, I must give this job up; it is so knotty." I took up the saw, and said, "Tom, let me try"; and to work I went, and, being of muscular strength, I soon overcame the difficulty.

It occurred to me, when leaving the field, that my preaching resembled Tom's sawing, and these words were impressed on my mind--"Who art thou, O great mountain? before Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain." I returned to my chamber, and poured out my heart to the Lord. A conviction arose in my mind that the work that G.o.d alone can perform I looked for the creature to produce. On reflection, I found the drift of my preaching for twenty years had been to tell the sinner to put the key into the lock of the door, so as to open it. I never thought of my Beloved putting His hand by the hole of the door, nor of applying to Him who has the keys of David, who "openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth."

On the Sunday following, I took my text from Isaiah--"Ye also made a ditch between two walls, for the water of the old pool; but ye have not looked unto the Maker thereof, neither had respect unto Him."

From that time G.o.d the Holy Ghost has given me better tools for my workmanship. In addressing those whose hearts are unrenewed and unchanged, I make no propositions or calls. I cry aloud, and lift up my voice, and show my people their transgressions and their sins. I then turn from the unconverted, and implore my Master to take the work in hand, to convince of sin, and to lead them to Christ. With uplifted eyes and outstretched arms I cry, "Lay hold of these rebels, O Lord, as the angel did of lingering Lot, and overcome them by Thy omnipotent power, so as to lay down their arms to come in, that Thy house may be filled."

John Berridge can do nothing but say, "Awake, O arm of the Lord!" This is my province; a step further I cannot, I dare not, go.

For the last twelve years the Lord has, in a most wonderful manner, displayed the riches of His grace in giving me innumerable seals to my ministry, both in town and country--trophies of mercy, as studs in the Mediatorial crown of my dear Redeemer.

OLD EVERTON.

[Oh, that there were more such preachers in the present day!]

When bold, presumptuous men stand up, And fain would make believe That they are teachers sent of G.o.d, And thus poor souls deceive,

They should, by every G.o.d-taught soul, Be faithfully withstood, If aught they bring to us as truth But Jesus and His blood.

Such men as these the Word declares Shall come, and shall deceive; But sinners, truly born of G.o.d, Will not such men receive.

If possible, we know they would Deceive Thine own elect; But, bless Thy precious name, dear Lord, Thou wilt Thine own protect.

How solemn is the thought to me-- Such men may think they're right, Yet their profession will, if left, End in eternal night!

"Depart, ye cursed!" will be said By lips that cannot lie; "Since you have hated Me and Mine, Your doom is now to die.

"You see, though now it is too late, The oil-less lamp won't do; The door against you now is shut; There is no pa.s.sing through."

My soul, reflect! How stands the case With me, a helpless sinner?

I cannot hope to win the race; But Jesus is my Winner.

I never should have sought to Thee, Dear Lord, Thou knowest well, If Thou hadst not first called me, And plucked my feet from h.e.l.l.

B. W.

BIBLE SUBJECTS FOR EACH SUNDAY IN FEBRUARY.

Feb. 5. Commit to memory Ruth ii. 7.

Feb. 12. Commit to memory Ruth ii. 8.

Feb. 19. Commit to memory Ruth ii. 9.

Feb. 26. Commit to memory Ruth ii. 10.

PUT heart in your work, whatever it is. If it be the lowliest, simplest little task, it will be enn.o.bled by your doing it well and cheerfully, and taking real pleasure in it.