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any furniture. But oh, the roses outside the cottages! They grow all over the gardens, they climb up the cottage walls, they peep in at the windows, they clamber over the porches, they kiss you as you stoop to enter the doors, they run up and cover the thatch, -there are roses in germ, roses in bud, roses in full bloom, they are here and there and everywhere, and though so beautiful, they grow just like the commonest and plainest plant. Every breeze that blows gets sweeter as it passes them, on its merry way to the fields. It seems as if God wanted to make up to these poor cottagers for man's neglect. Well, and what of all these rose-trees? Why, they remind us of Him who gladdens the homes of the very poorest, and, sharing humble toil, makes it sweet and holy. Why think you was Jesus born in a stable, and had only a cattle-manger for his cradle? Why was His home not the palace of a king, but a peasant's cottage? Why did He do the work of a common carpenter, and choose His daily friends from amongst the fishermen? Don't you think that He did all this because He wanted to show that there is no home too humble for Him to enter, and no heart too small for Him to come into. He will very gladly come into yours if only you will let Him. Roses will grow in common soil, and will beautify the poorest cottage. So will Jesus make your life bright with joy, beautiful with holiness.

There is one thing more I should like to say about the rose. It is unlike many flowers in this, it is both fragrant and beautiful. This is why it keeps its place in our gardens in spite of all changes in fashion. Some flowers, like lavender, smell sweet, but they are not beautiful, and some, like the dogviolet, are very beautiful, but have no scent at all. Our gardeners try to please the sight more than the smell, and I have been in gardens where there are scarcely any fragrant flowers at all. All the beds are of beautiful shape, and colours are prettily arranged; but the whole garden reminds me more of a Chinese puzzle than of a beautiful paradise. But the rose is fragrant as well as lovely, and so is a good emblem of the spirit of Jesus, which is sweet as well as beautiful, pleasant as well as holy. There was about the Lord Jesus a sweet influence which people loved to feel: He was so devout that the careless felt reverent when near Him; He was so patient that His disciples did not fear to tell Him their mistakes and faults; He was so gentle and loving that despised and despairing sinners were

drawn to come near to Him, and the sick knew well that He would give them a healing touch. People did not know why they felt so, but so they did. The rose needs only to live, and by its sweet scent you feel and know that it is there. So Jesus was known ; and those who know Him now feel that the breath of God is in Him, and the light of heaven around Him; and they call Him still the Rose of Sharon. Make that sweet Saviour your daily friend.

old."

THIRD EVENING.

Opening Hymn: "I think, when I read that sweet story of Lesson: Matt. xiii. 31-46. Concluding Hymn: "Glory to Thee, my God, this night."

Last Sunday evening we were thinking of the rose; to-night we will take another flower, the lily of the valley, and see what it can tell us of Jesus.

The lily is found after search. Any one can see a rosebush, even in the winter, though it has neither blossoms nor leaves. But the lily dies down in the autumn, and when its dead leaves are cleared away, nothing is left to tell you where it lies buried. You forget where it is, though you pass it by every day, and dig around it, and plant other flowers above it. Still it is there, hidden, but real and living. When the Son of God came to earth there was very little to direct the world's attention to Him. He might have bidden the angels sound their trumpets till the very earth was shaken; He might have ascended the throne of an earthly king, and compelled people to obey Him. But, instead of this, He lived so quietly that those who lived in the same town thought he was only a carpenter's son; and even when His ministry began, He fulfilled Isaiah's word, "He shall not cause His voice to be heard in the streets." People had to seek Jesus if they really wanted Him, and ever since then He has said of Himself, "they that seek me early shall find me.”

Then, too, when we think of the way in which Jesus received those who came to Him, He is better represented by the lily than by the rose, for He never repelled any one. There is no rose without a thorn, and when you have tried to gather one hastily you have had a prick, or a scratch. But when you see a thick bed of lilies you may push your hand in amongst the cool bright leaves fearlessly, for they are so gentle that they yield to your touch, as you gather their fragrant flowers. What a good thing it would be if every one were as gracious as Jesus! He never treats

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people unkindly, even those who are unkind to Him. His love is greater than that of the father whose daughter had sinned so sadly that she thought he never could forgive her but when at last he knew where she was, he sent one line of love to her which contained these three words: " ready to forgive;" that was all, but it was enough to soften her heart, to make her sorry for her sin, and to bring her home, like the prodigal, from the far country. Jesus says this, and does something more besides. He seeks us; He comes Himself, in order to save that which is lost. And when you feel that He is calling you and touching you by His lovewhen you earnestly wish to be better, daily better than you are, remember that then you are His, for He has said, "My sheep hear my voice." Once two men quarrelled about a sheep, and they came before a magistrate somewhere that he might decide to whom it belonged. The case was opened by counsel, witnesses spoke on one side and then on the other, and no one knew how the question would be settled. But the judge was a shrewd man, and knew the habits of shepherds, so he said to one of the officers, "Bring the sheep in." How the people did smile to see a sheep brought into the court ! They wondered what was coming next. "Now," said the judge to one of the men, "call the sheep." He tried, but the sheep did not know his voice, and would not move an inch. The other man was waiting in the next room, and when he made his call, away the sheep bounded to its master. Then said the judge, "The sheep is his." Now, if you want to know whether you are amongst the lambs of Christ's flock, just see to whom you go when on the one side sin calls you to disobedience, impurity, or untruth, and on the other side Jesus calls you away from these things to be good. The call to you to be good is always the voice of Jesus.

Before we finish our talk, let me ask you not to be content with hearing about Jesus but to think of Him. Let us fancy that there are two insects in a flower-garden. One is a gorgeously beautiful insect, and flies from flower to flower, every now and then stopping on one to sip a little sweet nectar from it, but only when the nectar is very easy to get. That insect is called a butterfly. But there is another insect-in the same garden. He is not so handsome-looking, and does not show so much, for his colours are rather dull; but he gets far more sweet things from the flowers than his more showy

neighbour. He settles down on any flower if there is honey in it, however hard it is to get at it. The butterfly passes by that sort of flower, but the bee opens it, pushes his way down into it, creeps on till he is buried in the flower. At last, out he comes into the sunshine laden with plenty of honey. Now, when we are hearing sweet stories about Jesus and enjoying them we are like the butterfly in the gardens, but when we try to do what Jesus wants us, when we are trying very hard, then we are like the busy little bee. Listening to what is read or said to you on Sunday evenings is all pleasure and no trouble; but if you wish really to get good and be good that is trouble-but it will bring you sweetness too.

Think, then, of Jesus, and try so to take him to your heart that you may feel that He is your Saviour and your Lord. When you gather a single lily, you can say: "This flower is mine," and so you may have Jesus for yours. He is like a rose and like a lily; you may have Him for yourself and say, "He is my Lord and my God."

FOURTH EVENING.

Opening Hymn: "Jesus, high in glory." Lesson: Matt. xi. 25-30. Concluding Hymn: "Glory to Thee, my God, this night."

I once saw a very aged scholar trying to learn to write, and, poor old man! though he tried hard, he could not get on at all. Slowly taking his seat, he held the pen in his hard, stiff hand, and then turning the copy-book aslant-as, you know, young writers are told not to do-he squared his elbows, put his head down close to the desk, and at last began. He tried so very hard to form the letters that the perspiration stood in beads. on his forehead, but somehow the pen would not go straight, and the blots and smudges would come, until, in despair, he looked up from his work with a sigh, and said—“I s'pose I be too old to larn!" It was a great pity that it was so, but he was quite right. He ought to have begun to learn when he was young; and it is easier to learn anything when we are young, than it is when we are old. When Jesus says to us, "Learn of me,” He hopes that boys and girls will be the most ready to do what He asks and become His disciples; for it is young people who find more than others do that the Christian yoke is an easy yoke, and the Christian burden a light one.

Well, then, you must know that children, like everybody else, know very little unless

they are taught. The lamb that frisks in the meadow, and the kitten that plays with a reel in the parlour, can do a great deal more for themselves than the baby can. He cannot even reach what he wants, until he has tried ever so many times, and I dare say you have laughed to see him solemnly put out his hand only to miss the very thing he meant to touch. He cannot even walk without teaching. And when children are old enough to run out into the woods, where they see pretty berries in the hedges and on the bushes-crimson, purple, and gold, they are quite likely to gather those which are poisonous, unless they have been taught which the poisonous ones are, and have been told that poisonous things will make them ill, and perhaps kill them. Even the clever big brother, who thinks he knows everything, when he first goes for a walk across the peaty moorland, will have to trust some one older and knowing more than himself, or else when he little thinks what he is doing he will perhaps put his foot on a tuft of pretty grass and sink lower and lower down into a deep black bog. We have always to be learning, learning, or we are sure to make mistakes and to get into trouble.

And so we need to learn the way to heaven. There is far more danger of making a mistake in choosing between what is good and what is bad in life-between the right and the wrong around us, than there is of making mistakes among the pretty-looking berries in the wood. What looks nice is not always good. There are many people, too, who will try to teach us who themselves don't know; for they themselves have never learnt. So we are glad that Jesus, whom we can trust, and who knows everything about us and about life and about heaven, says to each of us, "Learn of Me.”

what He knew they would like Him to do if they were there to see, just as well as what they had told him to do before they went away. I will show you what I mean by this. Once a little boy went out to a party at the house of a very kind lady; but though she was very kind, she unwisely offered wine to the children. Arthur remembered that his papa once forbade him to take any; but that was a long time ago; and all the other children were having some, Why should not he? It would look peculiar if he said No, perhaps it would not be polite; and it was not likely that on reaching home he would be asked if he had taken any. Just as these thoughts came into his mind, the lady again said, "Do take it, dear, it is very nice!" Arthur's colour came and went, for he was fighting with temptation. He did not know what to do. Then he said, "Thank you, I think papa would rather I did not have any; so I should not like it." The brave boy obeyed one out of sight. He did not say to himself, "Oh, papa did not say I was not to have any now." He did what he thought his father would have wished had his father been there. And that is just the sort of obedience Jesus likes to see, and which He will teach every one who learns of Him.

Jesus wishes also to give you gentleness. This lesson is perhaps harder for boys to learn than for girls. When two boys are quarrelling and somebody interferes, the one who can say, "Please, sir, he hit me first," thinks he has made a sufficient excuse for his part in the quarrel. It may be that others gather round these two, and when they see their flushed faces and clenched fists, they applaud and think it is very noble and grand to stand up for one's self. But what does the Bible say? "He that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." Perhaps you cannot prevent angry feelings, but you can prevent them being the master of you.

The way to learn of Jesus is to think of Him every day, and to feel that He is with us always and everywhere. If we are every Robert Hall was naturally a pasday with some friend, we learn more of him sionate man, and sometimes spoke hard and than we learn of a friend who is only with bitter words, for which he was afterwards us sometimes, and we are certain to become very sorry. One day when he had thus more like him; and if, as children, you are spoken, he rose and went into a corner of daily thinking of Jesus, you will easily and the room to be, as he thought, alone for a naturally learn of Him. One of the first moment; but a lady overheard him, and, things He will teach you is obedience. When what is more, God heard him whispering this He was Himself twelve years old—it is said earnest prayer, "O Lamb of God! O Lamb of Him that He was 66 subject" unto his of God! calm my angry spirit." Robert Hall parents. He did not need to be coaxed, or was then taking the yoke of Jesus and learnscolded, but He obeyed his father and mothering of Him.

and did so with cheerfulness. When they were If you learn of Jesus you will be truthful. away, He did what would please them just It is said of Him, "He did no sin, neither as much as if they were present, and did was guile (that is, deceit) found in his

mouth." He never said what was not true; even though he knew that if he did, He would save Himself from being put to death on the cross. If you are like Jesus you will never try to get anything by falsehood or dishonesty. Here is a story of a brave child who had learnt truthfulness of Jesus. He had been put at the bottom of his class at school, because he was the youngest scholar in it. A question as to the spelling of a word was put to the boy at the top of the class, which he failed to answer; so the same question was put to the next boy, and to the next, without getting answered; at length it came down to the boy I am telling you about, whose name was Harry, and Harry answered rightly-at least the teacher and every one else thought so, and up he marched past all the bigger boys to stand delighted at the head of the class. Then the teacher said, "I will write the word on the black

LITTLE

board, so that you may not forget it." As he wrote, all watched. Suddenly Harry cried out, "Oh! I didn't say so, I said e, not i,' and, without another word from anybody, he went at once down again to the lowest place in the class. He had too true a heart to take credit when he did not really deserve it. If he had not learnt of Jesus, he would have said nothing, and no one would have thought he had made a mistake; but, because he was a little Christian, it would have made him miserable to do what the Truthful Teacher hated. Jesus only whispered to him, but he obeyed. When he whispers to you, may you be ready to do as this brave little fellow did, just what He tells you, whatever be the pain.

[NOTE.-We are sorry that we are obliged to omit the fifth

Sunday Evening from this number of the magazine. But do not let our young friends grieve too much; we will see to it that the July part is in the booksellers' hands before the last Sunday in June, and the omitted Evening shall be sure to appear in that.-ED.]

DICK.

A Story for the Doung.

BY MONA M. NOËL.PATON. PART II. (CONCLUSION.)

CHAPTER V.

POOR little Dick! On the morning after

he found Alfred and Mary at the publichouse door, Mary woke with a terrible cold. She was so ill that he gave Alfred money and sent him to buy some medicine for her. The day was cold, and Alfred had had no breakfast. He had to pass The King's Arms on his way to the apothecary's. For a moment he glanced in at the bright fire, and the hot water that stood on the table. Having once felt the soothing influence of drink, the crave for it became, on this occasion, very intense. But the little hungry boy shut his eyes and bravely hurried past. At that moment a great deluge of rain swept against him, chilling him to the bone. He looked at the money in his hand. Surely a shilling was too much to waste on medicine. "I'll only buy one glass," said he, as he shrank into the public-house. He ordered his glass, and crouched over the fire. When the spirit was brought he drank it off. "Now you must turn out," said the landlady; and poor, miserable little Alfred reeled out into the street. Of course he was unaccustomed to drink, and in his weak state it went to his head. In a sort of stupor he bought the medicine and staggered home.

"Where's the change?" said Dick, as he took the bottle from his brother.

"What change?" asked Alfred dreamily. "The change for the shilling! Alfred, what have you done with the money?" cried Dick severely.

"Well, Dick," said Alfred beginning to cry, "I couldn't help it, it was so cold." "You've been to The King's Arms," cried Dick angrily.

"No-o," stammered Alfred. "Alfred, you are telling a lie," said Dick in a very low voice.

"I'm not," whimpered Alfred.

"You know you are," cried his brother, his voice almost choked between rage and sorrow. "You have broken your word and told a lie! Oh, Alfred, how could you?" And Dick looked at him with a strange terror in his beautiful eyes.

"I won't stay here and be called a liar," cried Alfred, his brain excited by intoxication. "I'll go away and work for myself."

Without another word he left the garret and the house, and sped away.

Dick hardly understood his brother's words. He never thought of Alfred's going away and not coming back. He administered the medicine to Mary, watched his father, and

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