"I don't see how it is, ma'am," he said one day to Miss Holbrook, "I'm nothing but a trouble to them all, and yet they seem so sorry. What beautiful hearts they must have." He made an arrangement with her in a quiet, almost business-like manner, that when he felt himself dying he should send Johnny for her and "the other young lady," and that even if they were in school, they were to come to him, and stay until he died; she promised, both for herself and Mary, that they would, and told him where they boarded, so that if it were out of school hours, Johnny might know where to find them. They found that Tiny's musical box became a power in the poor house in which he lived. He knew many of the children who swarmed in the halls and over the stairs, and Johnny kept him posted as to their general behavior. Every evening, upon his return from his round, that willing slave of Tiny's every whim was despatched into the entry to collect a halfdozen-more than this number "the grandmother" firmly vetoed-of those children who, according to Johnny's report, had "been good" that day. Fortunately for the poor little sinners, Johnny's standard was not high. Those who had not been caught swearing, fighting, or cheating in their games that day, were considered as candidates, and a judicious selection made, if the number were too great for admission. Many a time did Miss Holbrook and Mary pause on the landing to watch the row of eager, and generally dirty little faces, ranged before Tiny's bed. Not a sound was heard, but the plaintive voice of the little box; and the entertainment being concluded, Tiny gravely offered his hand to each guest, and quietly responded to the salutations-usually a "Good night to ye, Tiny dear," from the boys, and a resounding kiss from the girls. Once coming earlier than they generally did, they heard, instead of the little box, Tiny's sweet, weak voice. They only caught a few words: "And there will always be music there, and it never will have to stop to be wound up! And the better we behave before we go there, the sweeter it will sound to us." Not many evenings after this, they met Johnny at the foot of the stairs. His eyes were swollen with crying, and he could scarcely manage his voice. "I was just going for yees," he said, unsteadily. "Tiny says"-he sat down on the step, sobbing, and motioned to them to go up. It was a warm, soft evening in June, and the door stood wide open. The little fellow was propped up with all the pillows that the room afforded, and it was evident that every breath was an effort. He smiled brightly when he saw them, and held out both hands. Then, drawing the box from under the pillow, he gave it to Miss Holbrook, whispering faintly, "Wind it up, please, and make it play the Last Greeting." As the mournful notes stole softly on the still air, he motioned to his friends to come near to him. Miss Holbrook and Mary knelt on one side of the bed, "the grandmother" and Johnny, who had just crept softly into the room, on the other. The child looked from face to face, smiling, his blue eyes beaming with love and happiness. "Kiss me for good-by," he whispered, and silently each bent over and kissed his lips. Poor Johnny fought bravely with himself and his sorrow, and managed to be silent, though he shook from head to foot with repressed sobbing. Tiny's eyes turned toward the window, where the golden light of sunset was streaming in. The little box began to play slowly, it was nearly run down. One by one the notes fell softly on the earit panted-went on-stopped. Miss Holbrook took it in her trembling hands, eager to wind it while the child could still hear. Mary touched her arm. The beautiful face upon the pillow was smiling still. To them the music had ceased, but for him it had never stopped. A CONVERSATION ON GAMBLING. "BUT, Mr. R., what is the harm of risk, and if you lose, somebody else gains, gambling?" asked one of my Sunday-school scholars, a bright-eyed boy named Will, at the end of our afternoon lessons, when an interval of a few minutes before the closing of school permitted a little familiar conversation. and vice versa. I don't think it is any argument to say things lead to evil, if they are not evil themselves." "That is very true, Will. A great many good things can be used or abused in such a manner as to lead to harm, yet "Now, William, I cannot suppose you be in themselves innocent. Still, if they ask for information." "Yes, really, Mr. R., I want to know. I don't suppose it is right; but I want to know why it is wrong. It is not forbidden in the Bible." "Are you so sure? But indeed I grant you that it is not forbidden by name, like lying, or stealing, or swearing." "Is it forbidden at all, Mr. R.?" asked another of the class, becoming interested. "Yes, I think it is. I think I could at this moment name a text that forbids it, but I should like to hear your opinions. Can you yourself think of no reason why it is wrong?" "O, gamblers are always looked on as such a bad set. You see them at all the race-courses and low places.” "And besides, Mr. R.," broke in a third, "it leads to such dreadful things! Father knew a man who shot himself because he lost at play. And men get so excited, and play away all their fortunes, and sometimes take their employer's money, and ruin their families." "And they call their gambling houses hells," said little Price, in a solemn voice "Yes, I know it leads to all kinds of evil, and all that, but I want to know why," said Will, pertinaciously. "It seems to me that some kinds of gambling are fair enough; as fair as trading," he asserted, dogmatically. "When there is no cheating, nor betting on a certainty, I cannot see where is the great harm of staking one's money on a chance. You take the invariably produce evil, we may suspect some great underlying principle of evil in them, and I think we will find it in this case. Since you have been talking I have been thinking. I don't know that I ever thought it out fully before, and I will see if I cannot explain to you what I think. I think there are two evil principles involved in gambling; and the first is very nearly akin to the sin forbidden in the tenth commandment-covetousness. The text I thought of awhile ago is this: 'He that maketh haste to be rich, shall not be innocent.' Now the object of gambling is to get rich in haste, and we must see why it is not innocent. There is no barm in getting rich. There is no harm in acquiring property. I suppose you all expect some day to possess something. There are only three possible ways of getting it." "Only three, Mr. R.!" and a half dozen upturned faces expressed as much incredulity as wonder. "Yes," I affirmed, "only three, and if you can tell me more you have my thanks. First by gift, second by purchase, and third by extortion. Now all the different ways you may think of must belong to one of these." "A man may inherit property from his father," said Fred. "And that would rank as a gift. A great many of a man's possessions are gifts, if not from his earthly, from his heavenly Father; the soil he treads on, the air he breathes, the fruits he eats, and the metals and minerals he uses; but I do not mean in the broad sense of every good and perfect gift coming from above. I mean many such modes of getting rich as the law will confirm with a legal title, such as finding an oil well, or a gold mine, or a guano island, or some of those means by which a man may lawfully and rightfully become rich in haste, and yet be innocent, if he remembers to whom he owes it, and is thankful." "He can get rich by working." "And that is a method of purchase. He gives his labor for his labor's worth. All kinds of industry may be classed with purchase. One gives an equivalent for what he obtains, at a fair market valuation. Next, there is extortion. All kinds of thieving, robbing, violence, and fraud, come under this category. One obtains property from an unwilling owner. Now under which of these three would you place the money got by gambling?" I was amused as I waited, to see the puzzled countenances with which the boys set to work to grapple this knotty question. They were not going to give it up so. I asked them one by one. Most of them replied "extortion," but Will said he thought it rather belonged to "purchase." "Well, let us see. I suppose none of you consider it a free gift." A faint smile was the answer. "Well, that point is settled. But before we go any further, I may as well tell you my own conclusion. I think that the essence of gambling is acquiring property without giving a fair equivalent." not hand over a sum of money hoping it may do good, or give pleasure. He expects neither thanks, nor gratitude. He may affect carelessness. He may really not care much, if the stakes are small, or the result trifling. But what he does feel is an emotion of pain, rather than pleasure. It is a disappointment, and so ignoble a disappointment that he feels it a point of honor to affect indifference, long after he ceases to feel it." "They can't always make-believe," said little Price, sagely; "I've read of them sitting all night at the gambling table, with their eyes all bloodshot, and their faces pale and haggard, and breaking away with wild oaths and curses. Just fancy a fellow who knows that all he is worth is hanging on the turn of the dice, or the color of a card, making believe he don't care! He can't do it." "Mr. R., I heard Ben Stone say that he has known a man to offer a prayer that his card might win." "That is possible, but what a prayer! And whom does he pray to? That leads me to my second evil principle; you know I mentioned two. The first is covetousness, which ends in selfishness, hardness of heart, envy, hatred, and malice. The second is a species of idolatry. The ancients, you know, worshipped the goddess Fortune. Modern gamblers do not think, perhaps, of the goddess, but Fortune, Chance, Luck, as opposed to Providence, is the God of their worship. A gambler could scarcely comfort himself with the thought, 'if we ask any thing according to His will, He heareth 'But, Mr. R., if a man risks his own us,' nor conclude his prayer in the name money-?" and for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ." Mr. R., I am very much obliged. I think I see into it now," said Will. He "No, Will, it is not a purchase. does not expect to pay his money. Ile sits down to gamble with the full intention of getting his opponent's money for nothing. He is so anxious to do this that he risks his own, trusting to luck; but if he wins, he pays nothing." And if he loses-?" "Recollect," said I, "gambling is the attempt to acquire property without paying for it, and to my mind, the great difference between it and robbing and stealing is, that it is always taken from a victim who richly deserves to lose it. He pays under extortion. He does There goes the bell. Silence!" OUR MISCELLANY. DR. LIVINGSTONE. The desire to complete what he has begun, without intrusion from geographers who might rob him of the just reward of his labors, has made Dr. Livingstone somewhat of a hermit. Having sacrificed so much in elucidating the Nile sources, and having come so near the end of a great triumph, it is natural that he should prefer to go on, unmolested by agents of the Royal Geographical Society, or any one else who comes as a geographical expert. Stanley was no intermeddler; he came to discover Livingstone, not to anticipate any of Livingstone's discoveries, or to bear away any information which he could not spare. It is known in England that Livingstone, being unsalaried, wishes to keep the greater part of his information to publish on his return to England for the pecuniary benefit of his family. Dr. Livingstone's real wishes in regard to his discoveries are recorded in the Blue Book, a copy of which is kept at Zanzibar. It seems that Lieut. Dawson, of the British Navy, of the expedition to relieve Livingstone, was not aware of this very natural desire of the doctor, until he arrived at Zanzibar. To go on in his commission, especially as the Royal Geographical Society had enjoined upon him to do all he could to "pick up the ends of Dr. Livingstone's work," would be to the pecuniary detriment of the great explorer. Lieutenant Dawson did well in not proceeding to survey the region of the watershed of the Nile, and in not seeking to extort from the doctor any notes of his discoveries. We may not suppose that the most distant thought of rivalry entered Dr. Livingstone's mind on the arrival of Stanley. He himself says, in his letter to the Earl of Clarendon, in alluding to the approach of the American, "The kindness was extreme, and made my whole frame thrill wlth excitement and gratitude. * Appetite returned, and in a week I began to feel strong." And in his letter to Mr. Bennett he writes: "The near * prospect of beggary among Ujijians made. me miserable. I had got to about the lowest verge. The good Samaritan was close at hand. ** It was indeed overwhelming, and I said in my soul, Let the richest blessings descend from the Highest on you and yours."" We cannot doubt that Dr. Livingstone's motives in this great and peculiar work are unselfish and Christian. It was as a Christian missionary that he began his African excursions, and in the spirit of the Christian missionary does he still carry them on. In the letters of Mr. Stanley we find this pleasing passage: "Every Sunday morning he gathers his little flock around him and has prayers read, not in the stereotyped tone of an English High Church clergyman, which always sounds in my ears insincerely, but in the tone recommended by Archbishop Whateley, viz., natural, unaffected and sincere. Following them he delivers a short address in the Kisawahiti language, about what he has been reading from the Bible to them, which is listened to with great attention." Mr. Stanley also speaks of Dr. Livingstone's religion as of "the true practical kind, never | losing a chance to manifest itself in a quiet practical way -never demonstrative or loud. It is always at work, if not in deed, by shining example. In him religion exhibits its loveliest features. It governs his conduct towards his servants, towards the natives, and towards the bigoted Musselmans-even all who come in contact with him. Without religion, Livingstone, with his ardent temperament, his enthusiastic nature, his high spirit and courage, might have been an uncompanionable man and a hard master. Religion has tamed all these characteristics; nay, if he was ever possessed of them, they have been thoroughly eradicated. Whatever was crude or wilful, religion has reduced, and made him, to speak the earnest, sober truth, the most agreeable of companions and indulgent of masters." 389 The interest in Dr. Livingstone will no doubt be providentially overruled for the overthrow of the atrocious slave trade, which he so much deplores. This trade is one of the worst hindrances to the spread of the gospel on the east coast. Measures are being taken by the principal European nations for the suppression of this evil; and as war ships have already been sent to that quarter, we may expect soon to hear of a change for the better. HOW TO WIN OTHERS. "As in water, face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man." It is not the face of one man that answereth to the heart of another, but the heart to the heart. The cold formalities, the passing civilities, the courteous common-places of every-day life, never yet bound persons together in a profitable and enduring attachment. What we Christians need to make our usefulness greater, is not so much the profession of religion as the possession of earnest charity towards others. How often is it said of one, "Certainly he is rough, even repellant, but he does not show his real character; he has a warm heart." A warm heart, but repellant! Alas, that any thing so paradoxical should be true of Christ's followers! What good can such a heart do any one? Of what benefit to me personally, though some one else be in a warm room, if I must stand shivering without? We need to enter more into the spirit of sympathy and interest, and love with one another, and with those who are away from Jesus. Do we say that between ourselves and many with whom we have a passing acquaintance, there is no great congeniality, no strong bond of sympathy? Do we not take too much for granted? Do we strive, as we might, to find out the good in others? Influenced by the holiest of motives, that of elevating and strengthening the hands about us, do we go to those in our midst and study their characters, until we find something we can admire? An acquaintance is, perhaps, inclined to insincerity or self-conceit in character, or to carelessness in appearance, yet, withal, we discover in him some degree of genero-ity; let us love this trait, and try to gain such an influence over him as to induce him, by the help of God, to give up insincerity, conceit, and slovenliness. He who digs for gold, when once he has secured the precious lump, is too overjoyed to regard the dirt that surrounds it. He puts it through a purifying process till every foreign. substance is removed. In this work of gaining others, let us not be discouraged by coldness or rebuff. The commander who would take a city must not be prepared to advance merely, but also to resist sallies. We are mistaken if we suppose the impediments to friendship and confidence are found altogether in others, and not somewhat in ourselves. The power to influence for good does not spring up in a night. "Confidence," said Lord Chatham, "is a plant of slow growth." And yet what is impossible to disinterested love? If the heart of one of God's children be aglow with that charity which induced the Son of God to take upon himself the form of a servant; if, realizing the value of one soul, he but watch, and wait and pray till he have gained it, the reward will be sweet and enduring. Not the least part of that reward will be the consciousness of having delivered another from going down to the pit, of having ennobled and made more manly a soul created in God's image, and finally of having inspired a fellowmortal for whom few, perhaps, cared, with the principles of virtue and goodness, which he is happy to believe influence his own life. "Who is thy neighbor? he whom thou Hast power to aid or bless; O, enter thou his humble door, Go thou and shelter them. Thy neighbor? pass no mourner by; A breaking heart from misery, Go share thy lot with him." T. A. B. |