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cause it was secret the disciples over | however, does iniquity render the estimated him. They regarded him heart, that presently the inebriate as good when he was bad. Ananias will make no secret of his vice; he and Sapphira were held in esteem by will frequent hotels, he will be found the Church when they had no right | reeling in the streets. He who reads to it. Nor is it otherwise with us unclean and lascivious books on the when we retain invisible sins. sly, pushing them under the cushion Whether we mean it or not, we are of the couch, or thrusting them into deceiving our fellow-men. They | his pocket when a visitor enters, will give us credit for more than we pos not be 80 particular by-and-bye. sess. Surely this should lead us to The said volumes will, one day, prav, “ Cleanse thou me from secret stand boldly on his library-shelves. faults."
4. Secret faults become public “Thinkst thou to be concealed, thou faults. Herein the physical is illus.
litt e thought!
That in the curtain’d chamber of the trative of the spiritual. If there is
soul serious though hidden disease, it will
Dost wrap thyself so close, and dream presently manifest itself. Supposing
to do that there is a “ secret fault” in the A hidden work! Look to the hues that
roll lungs, a minute defect, perhaps
O'er the changed brow, the moving lip hardly larger than a pin's point,
behold, exists there. It becomes greater ; Linking thee unto sound, the feet that it grows and grons. First one cell,
run then another, is destroyed, and at Upon thine errands, and the deels that length the secret fault becomes pub
stamp lic. There is the hollow cough, the
Thy likeness plain before the noonday
sun. wasted hand, the sunken cheek, the
Look to the pen that writes thy history hard breathing, weary days and
down sleepless nights. Then you see the In those tremendous books that ne'er blinds of the house drawn down
Until the day of doom, and blush to seg ominously ; perchance you happen
How vain thy trust in darkness to to pass when a coflin is being borne
repose, out. Some day when you are loiter Where all things tend to judgment. So ing in the cemetery you see among
beware, the gav flowers, the fluttering leaves,
O erring human heart, what thoughta and the overshadowing trees, a new
thou lodgest there!” grave, and a new grave.stone, and a Well, then, may we wish that we new inscription, telling how the | may be cleansed from “secret family, the Church, and the world faults.” Let us take heed, however, have been bereaved of one who, in that our wish forms itself into a the prime of life, has been called prayer. “Cleanse thou me." We home. So is it morally. Indeed, cannot cleanse ourselves. Alas for so hardening is the influence of sin, the deluded man who with the water that a secret fault indulged in must | and laver of his own resolves and inevitably become public; the sinner efforts, seeks to free himself from gets indifferent as to whether it is moral impurity. “The work exceede known or not. Here is a man that all nature's power.” Only when justifies a debased appetite by in- | God comes to our aid can we be temperance; but he does it in effectually delivered from secret private. He gets drunk by his own | faulty. Be this, then. our reiterated fireside. On no account would he | supplication, “ Wash me, and I shall have his fellow-citizens become ac- be whiter than snow;” “Cleanro quainted with his habit. So callous, | thou me from secret faults.”
Tales and Sketches.
HURTING A CHILD'S HEART. , for some minutes. The boy had let BY T. 8. ABTAUR.
his book fall from before his eyes,
and was listening intently. His "I don't expect anything of my mother saw this, and bad a quick children !" The tone was fearful, perception of what was passing in with a quality of accusation. The his mind. face of the speaker wore an injured " Edward,” said she, “I don't ok.
like boys in my bedroom. Go downA bor, between fourteen and fif stairs." teen years of age, sat reading. He This was not spoken harshly. The mored uneasily, as if pain had dis mother's tone of voice bad changed turbed him, but he did not lift his considerably. eyes from the page on which they The boy arose without hesitation, were resting
and left the room. "The harder a mother slaves for "I don't think it's always good to her children, the less they care for talk before children,” remarked the
lad's mother, as soon as he had The boy moved again, almost with retired. å start, as though the pain felt an “A proper regard for our language instant before suddenly increased. and conduct before our children,"
"All children are thankless !” So was answered, “is a matter for the the speaker kept on, talking to a gravest consideration. They have friend, yet really thrusting at the | keen instincts; their eyes are sharp;
they read us, and know us some. * Not all," answered the friend. | times better than we do ourselves." * Thave a mother, and I know my “ They are sharp enough, I supheart in regard to her. It is full of pose, but not quite so sharp as all ive and gratitude, and I cannot that,” was answered. “ I'm not one remember the time when it was of those that make children of much Dot 30."
importance." * There are exceptions to all rules. “Our estimation in the case will not And, besides, there are few women alter the result, my friend. Of that Like your mother. That would be a we may be certain. As we are to our
a beart, indeed, into which she children, so will they be to us. Love did not inspire love."
begets love, and kindness good-will. "Love begets love. That is the If we do not hurt them wantonly, eu, trile story, and as true to-day as they certainly will not, in turn,
125 a thousand years ago. If wound us by neglect.” cauldren grow up cold and thankless “ Hurt them wantonly! I'm not toward their parents-if they early sure that I get your meaning.” Separate from them, going off into “ Are you much surprised that The world, and treating them with Tom Baldwin made his escape from beglect-the fault, in most cases, home at the first good opportunity ?” ests with the parents. They did | “ Well, I looked for it, I must 2. make themselves lovely in their | confess; but that don't excuse him ;
he's proved himself an upgrateful There followed this a dead silence boy, after all his mother has done for
him. But, as I said a little while | comings-only look after the cause. ago, all children are thankless. I To prevent is better than to cure. don't calculate on anything from Forewarned, forearmed. Is it not mine. They'll grow up, and scatter | much the wiser course for us to make themselves east and west, getting off | sure of our children's love in future, as far from home as possible ; and, by offering them love in the presenti" I'll probably be left to an asylum in “ You speak to me as if I did not the poor-house when I get old and love my children.” helpless."
A crimson stain marked the • Do you talk so before your chil. woman's cheeks; there were sudden dren P" said the friend.
flashes in her eyes. She was a “ They know my sentiments.” woman of quick, passionate temper.
“ So I inferred. In that way you “Every feeling has its sign," was hurt them. You put their future on calmly replied. “Love, anger, distrial, and write out a verdict of con like-each expresses itself in a dif. demnation when it is impossible for ferent way. And these signs every them to defend themselves against one knows. Even the babe of one your cruel charges. I saw your boy | brief summer may read them. Why stand and writhe, a little while ago, is it that Edward feels that you do under your sharp thrusts at him. not love him?" He was no party to Tom Baldwin's “ Who says that he feels so ?” upfilial act, and it was a hard thing The mother started. There was in you, my friend, to make Tom's de- a mingling of anger with surprise linquency the occasion for smiting in her face. your own son, whom you may bind “Must it not be that you with to you, if you will, by triple cords of hold too often the signs of love ?" love, not to be broken, or push away “I shall get angry at you, if you to a distance, where he can feel no talk to me any longer in this strain." Varmth and no attraction. Take “No, my dear friend, you must care! You are on dangerous ground!” not get angry at me. Too many
"Oh, you make too much of chil sweet memories of the past are shared dren," was answered, but with a little between us. Bear with me, now, as, constraint in manner. S
one who holds you in her heart. “ They are simply human beings. | Sball I relate to you an incident that They have sensitive souls, quick to occurred in my house only yesterreceive impressions. Tender to love, day? It is under the warrant of but hard or resentful to all unkind this incident that I have ventured on ness. They are creatures of feeling the plainness of speech which has rather than thought, not generally disturbed you." holding malice, but rarely losing the The red spots faded off from the memory of pain from unjust inflic- mother's cheeks. The keen light tion. In after years this memory is vanished from her eyes. often revived. It is my opinion that “ Go on,” she said, her voice dropin a large number of cases, where ping down from its sharp key. children neglect their parents in old • Edward had called to see the age, the cause lies just here."
children. We always like to have "All of which is simply vindictive," him come. He is never rude por said the lad's mother, “and a poor coarse in his manners, but gentle compliment to human nature.” manly in bearing beyond what 1$
"Human nature does not often usually seen in lads of his age.. suffer unjustly through hard judg have more than once compared him ment," was answered. “But I am with my oldest son, and each time, not offering an apology for her short. I wished that John resembled him in
many things. The two boys were better. I was quite self-possessed in the parlour alone, John, I am when I returned. As I stooped to eorry to say, is not always to be gather up the broken fragments trusted. He is over-curious, and apt of glass John came up close to me. to meddle with things that should be I did not speak to nor look at him.
Sacred from his touch. Recently he Edward had drawn back to a distant I has become interested in insects, and part of the room. Silently the work
has begun to collect and preserve of collecting the pieces of glass went Ce them.
on, John standing near me all the He " There was a vase of wax flowers time. It was done, and I was about
- co the parlour mantelpiece, the in rising, when I felt his arm across my S pennis maker of which had placed shoulder. V i sereral imitations of moths and “ • I'm so sorry,' he said, in a peni.
py beetles among the leaves. The vase tent voice, laying his face down 7 was covered with glass. John's new. against mine, which I had turned 2 formed interest in entomology had toward him ; "it was wrong to touch
given a special attraction to these it, I know, but I thought I would be way moths and beetles; and on this so careful, I can't tell what made it occasion he went so far as to lift the slip out of my hand. glass covering, that he might obtain *Accidents are almost sure to a closer view. In venturing to do happen with us, my son,' I answered, this, one of those accidents that so gently, but seriously, when we are frequently happen with children, not doing what is just right. Let and grown people, when they are not this disaster stand as a lesson for the doing right, occurred. The glass future.' shield slipped from Joho's hand, and “• You shall take my money and cracked to pieces on the floor. The buy a new case, dear mother,' he noise startled and excited me. I answered, in a spirit of manly jusvent hastily to the parlour, and saw tice that was very grateful to my at a glance the damage which had ears, been done, and also comprehended “ • If this little experience will tae cause of the disaster. Edward make you more careful of doing looked pale and frightened ; John right,' I returned, none of us will fashed and grieved. Repentance and very deeply regret the accident.' self-condemnation had come with | “ He put his arms around my the accident. Even through my in. neck, and kissed me. I kissed him dignation, which could not be stayed, | in return, and then went out, thankI saw that. Hard words were strug- | ing God in my heart that he had gling to come through my lips, but I helped me to self-control in a morepressed them. Experience warned ment of trial, when passion would me to keep silence till I could speak have hurt my boy. calmly, and under the influence of “Not long afterward, I heard the reason.
boys talking together. Edward said, "I stood for a few minutes look. If it had been my mother, she ing at the shivered glass, and then, would have scolded at me till I was without trusting my lips to say any. mad enough to break everything in thing, went out for the dust-pan and | the house. Why didn't your mother brush. I was glad that I had con- / scold you?' trolled myself. It is my experience “ Because she loves me, and that scolding almost always does | knows that scolding wouldn't make harm ; and even where it works cor- | me half so sorry as I am.' rection of bad habits, I am certain "I wish my mother loved me,' that a different way would have been said Edrard, in a tone of voice so sad and longing that it brought tears | beautiful words, it has readier will to my eyes."
than fear. I know also that hardThe mother of Edward caught her ness begets hardness-that driving breath at this. Her lips moved as if is more difficult and far less certain, she were abont to speak; but she than leading. And yet, knowing repressed what was in her thoughts, this, I have sought to rule my chil. and kept silent.
dren by passion and force-to drive "Of course your mother loves instead of leading them into the right you,' answered John.” So the friend ways! No, no, I am not hurt with continued. “But Edward said, “No, you. For all this plain speaking, I'm sure she doesn't love me.'
which I 80 much needed, I thank "• Why do you say that?' ques. vou from the bottom of my heart. tioned John.
If it is not better with both me and "• If she loved me, she wouldn't my children in future, it will not be be always scolding me and hurting / your fault. But it shall be better!" me with hard words, no matter what And it was better. How quickly I do. O John, if I had such a all was changed under the new order mother as you, I'd be the bappiest of home government! Love and boy alive! i'd do anything for her!"”. kindness found swift obedience
There was a silence for some time, where anger and harshness had met It was broken by the friend, who / obstruction. Sunshine dropped in said, “ Forgive me for having told through a hundred places which had you this. The wounds of a friend been closely barred against its sweet are better than the kisses of an influences; and Edward, wondering enemy. Forgive what may seem an at the pleasant change, drew nearer exaltation of myself above you. He and nearer to his mother, and felt who knows my heart, knows that in that she loved bim. it there is no pride of superiority. O love! gweet to all hearts! Ye He knows how weak I am, how who should give of its treasures, see often I fall short, how often passion to it that your hands fail not in its gets the better of reason-how near dispensation. It has signs pecuit was to bearing me down yester-| liarly its own, which are never misday. It was in His strength that I taken. If you would win love, look overcame, and helped my boy in- | at the sign. stead of hurting him. In His strength you may overcome also, and win the love of a child whose
DONE GIVING. heart is athirst for your love, as the drooping flower is athirst for dew
- No, sir. I shall not give you a and rain."
shilling. It is just 'give, give,' all The mother of Edward bowed her the time, from one source or another, face into her hands. For a little and for my part I am tired of it. I while her body shook with half-l tell you, sir, I am done giving." choked sobs. Then she looked up at These words came from the lips her friend. Her eyes were wet, her of a man whom the Lord had abundface pale, her lips curved with pain antly prospered. But as his riches and grief.
increased, he forgot the command, “ You are not hurt with me!" “ Set not thy heart upon them.” The
"No, no," she answered, “ not passion for heaping up treasure had with you, but with myself. What | 80 grown upon him, that he felt as if have I been doing? What madness every pound given away Tas really has possessed me? I know that love robbed from his stores. If you are begets love-that, in Mrs. Howitt's | ever tempted to court wealth, re