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went about his home duties cheerfully and I want to your face once again. quietly. But when night came, bringing Your eyes are like hers," he sighed, as home Fred wet and spiritless, and Alfred did Dick stood again by him. “Do you renot return, he became alarmed. He sat up member your mother, Dick?” till very late, but no appearance of Alfred's “Very little,” answered Dick through his return! When every one in the room was white lips; there was not a tear in his terribly asleep he went out, hoping that his brother sad, burning eyes. might be lurking near. At last, towards “Dick,” continued his father presently, morning, he returned home alone, weary and “I think I should tell you your mother's sad. Ever since his father had been getting history. You are old for your years, and I worse, Mary had been ill and cross, and Dick think it right to tell my little Comfort my had been watching with longing eyes for his wife's sad story. If I wander a little you brother's return.

must have patience with me. Though you “He'll come, I know he'll come,” he will hardly believe it, my darling, I am the would say to himself each night, as each day son of a gentleman. Long, long ago I knew brought fresh disappointment. “I know your mother down in the country. I was a he'll come soon."

curate, she the schoolmaster's daughter. Mary was of no use to him, his only help While we were all very happy, a young lay in Fred, who was always gay and loving officer came to stay at the Hall. She was

Before long Dick had to stay at home very beautiful; he made love to her ; she entirely to watch his father, and Mary, who thought she loved him. So they were had never recovered the cold she got at The married against his parents' wishes; though King's Arms. Then little Fred had to go she did not know that. He brought her to out alone to work for the family. He felt poverty and died, leaving her and their little himself of great importance as he trudged son absolutely penniless. His parents found along with his broom, and his pretty looks her out, but refused to help her unless she attracted so much attention that he often would give up the boy. This she refused to made more money than ever poor Dick do, and struggled on for two years; but at last could. But they were very, very poor for all she had to give him up, as she could not that. Often Dick and Fred had to go with earn money enough to keep him. Her scarcely any food, so that there might be parents were dead; she had not now a enough for "father and Moll.” The little friend in the world. When she was first fellow never murmured; but Dick saw him taken from me I gave up my charge, and from day to day lose his baby looks and took to literature. I met her again by chance ways. Dick's heart was very sore for his in a London shop. I was at that time comlittle brother ; but he could do nothing to paratively prosperous. She was poor and help him. All day before Harry's visit their friendless. She remembered the old times, father had lain in a kind of stupor. Dick and knew she had loved me all these years. had nothing to give him to eat, and he seemed We were married. For a little time all went sinking fast. Harry's visit put life and spirits well. When you were about a year old I had into the little brothers, and the money was in a long illness: I could not work. For some very deed a Godsend.

years we managed to keep from absolute After Harry left them, the father lay in the starvation; but before Fred's birth I had a same stupor till far into the night. Dick stroke of paralysis: my brain was injured. tried to get him to swallow some food, but he When Fred was born your mother died. The would not. He was so quiet that once or rest you know”—he turned away exhausted. twice Dick thought he must be dead.

Presently he spoke again, but his voice was The grey of the dawn was beginning to very weak. “ Be good to them all. And appear through the broken window when Dick, promise never till your dying day to Dick heard his father breathe his name. tell the story of your parents' life.”

“Yes, father," he softly answered, creeping to his bedside. Are you any better?"

“ Because no one will believe you. They “No, my poor Dick, I shall never be would laugh at the notion of a crossingbetter," whispered the father gently.

sweeper being born of gentle parents. And, “Oh, father!” moaned the poor little oh, Dick, I cannot bear that my children boy; "oh, father!" That was all; but it should despise me, as they would if they knew was a cry of utter loneliness and despair. how I have wasted my life. No, no, my boy,

'Don't cry, my Dick! You know who I do not fear you, but the others. Say goodwill be a Father to you. Light the candle ; bye to them for me, my noble boy; God

came.

was worse.

bless you, my Comfort,” and he fell back on "Fred," he said at last, one bitter morning, the pillow.

I can't go to work; I can't stand.” “Father," cried Dick,“ may I tell on my You're just done up," said the little dying day? You said not till my dying day. comforter; “lie down and rest a bit, you'll be Am I to tell then?”

all right soon." But no answer

The father was “I don't know, Fred; maybe I'm getting dead.

like father was,” said Dick sadly. The grey dawn looked in upon three little “No, no, Dickie,” cried Fred, half afraid. orphans. All day they watched for a “No, no, Dickie; God would never do that." messenger from Harry's grandmother; but "I don't know, baby. Maybe it's right," none came.

answered Dickie thoughtfully. Their father was buried by the parish; and “Oh no, Dickic," cried the poor little then the little orphans left their old home boy, fairly breaking down, “it couldn't be for another yet more wretched.

right, it couldn't be right."

There, there, don't cry,” said Dick soothCHAPTER VI.

ingly, as he patted the curly head and kissed Dick found a poor widow who offered to the tears from the dark lashes. “ I'm low let him her cellar for a very small sum; and just now, and perhaps I fancy things worse there he took his little brother and sister. than they are. But I'll stay at home to-day, The poor woman was very kind to them, and and I dare say I'll be all right to-morrow. the children might have been happy enough There, run off, tell them at the stable as you had they only been able to make a little more pass, and come home soon, for I weary for money. It was now summer, and there was you, Fred.” very little mud to sweep. The little pinched Thus cheered and comforted the little fel. faces ceased to interest the passers-by. Fred low went off to his work, singing as he went. had lost much of his baby beauty and win But when the next day came poor Dick ning way with strangers. At home he was dearer than ever ; but his charm for the “I'll be better to-morrow," he would say outer world was gone. Already on the baby cheerfully. brow care was setting its mark. Already the But many to-morrows came and went, and little hands were hard and red with toil. still he was no better. All Mary's time was But the baby heart was pure as ever. He occupied in nursing him, and once more on was happy, because he was helping Dick. Fred devolved the responsibility of breadWas not that enough? Still their greatest winner for them all. Weeks went on, and sorrow was Alfred. Time passed, and yet he Dick got steadily worse.

He suffered a great did not come. Gradually the once dear and deal of pain, but through it all he was ever familiar name was less and less often uttered, gentle and patient. He was still the guide till at last it seemed almost forgotten. and stay, the cheerer and comforter of the

They often, however, spoke of Harry, and little home. wondered what had become of him. Freddy One evening, as Dick was lying aloneonce said, with a sigh, “ Every one is dying; Mary and Fred both being out-he fancied maybe he's dead too."

he heard, in a dark corner of the cellar, a Nothing dreadful had happened to Harry. stifled sob. He was working very hard at college, and “Who's there?” asked Dick, but all was as, when he ever did anything earnestly he silent. Again the great sob came; this time always did it so very thoroughly that he had he was sure of it. “There is some one. Can time to think of nothing else, he almost forgot I help you? Come to me, I'll try and help that Dick lived. Meantime Dick had to you,” said he gently. Then, looking at him work on alone.

out of the darkness, he saw a pair of grey As he grew older he left the crossing al- eyes he had once known well.“ Alfy, my most entirely to Fred, and took a situation brother! Come to me, come to me," cried as a stabie boy.

he, stretching out his arms. “Come back to He earned more money thus, but the ex- me, and I'll never scold you any more.” posure was too much for his delicate constitu Then out of the corner rose a ragged figure ; tion. One winter did the work of destruction. but it did not come to the arms so lovingly A dreadful cold settled down on his lungs. held out. He only gazed with tears glistenHe worked on for a long while, feeling all the ing in his eyes. time that he was killing himself, but not "No," he answered half-sullenly, “ I'm too knowing what eise to do.

bad, Dick ; I'm a thief."

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“No, no, you are my brother," cried Dick, cheerful voice now almost choked. still holding out his arms. "Alfy, I'm dying; “ Take me there," he groaned. won't you come to me before I

go ?"

They found Dick much worse; the feeble Then with one wild cry Alfred was in his life had all but run out. brother's arms.

He did not at first know Harry-not, in “Oh, Dickie, Dickie, forgive me. I did fact, till he sat down by him and smoothed not mean to come back till I was rich; but the hair off the burning brow. I heard you was ill, an' I wanted to see you, “Dick, dear boy, do you know me?" oh, so awful bad. I didn't mean you to see “ Is it the gentleman ?" asked Dick in a me; I meant to go away and you never to feeble voice. know I were here."

“ Yes; but don't call me that; call me But you will never go away again ?” said Harry. Be quick and get better, and I'll Dick wistfully.

see to you," cried Harry in his old impul“ If you will keep me, I'll stay here always, sive way. always."

“ That will never be," said Dick with a “You must stay with me till I die, and sad smile. “ It won't be long now.” then you must take care of the children. Oh, Dick, don't talk so. You do not But now I'm so tired with happiness. Let's know what I owe to you," cried poor lie down and go to sleep together; like we Harry. used to long, long ago.” And the weary Owe to me!” said Dick, opening his eyes eyelids drooped, and the two little brothers' in wonder. “Oh, sir, you're laughing at me!” heads nestled once

on the same "No, Dick, indeed I'm not,” said Harry pillow, as they had done when they were earnestly. “ It was you who first showed me babies.

the right way." After this Alfred never left Dick's side. “I don't understand; tell me,” said Dick, He was the gentlest, most patient nurse. If puzzled. care and love could have kept him alive Dick “I was a useless fool before I saw you, I would not have died; but the life was too was leading a life of selfishness and idleness. far spent-slowly, but surely, the course ran The sight of you first opened my eyes to the

fact that there were others in the world to be At last even the loving brothers and sister thought of besides myself. Of course I gave up hope. Fred went sadly to his work. always liked to give a poor boy a sixpence, On him fell the heaviest part of the trouble. and that sort of thing, you know; but I While Alfred and Mary were always with always thought of poor people as something Dick, he had to be away. Every moment quite different from me—as a sort of beasts, he was absent was a moment less of Dick. in fact. But your brave words taught me to Yet though the strong little heart was almost look on you, a little beggar boy, as something breaking with its weight of sorrow he bore to be respected. I could never think of you as up like a true soldier, fighting till the last. an inferior, but as a brother, ay, as a superior. "I wonder what has become of my gentle. And when I remembered that there might man,” thought he one morning, as he trudged be many more noble spirits struggling on along to his crossing. “Surely he can't have alone-living, working, and dying with no forgotten us; and I don't think he's dead. one to help them ; when I thought that there Maybe he's looking for us at the old house. were many with noble souls, having the nobleI'll go to the old place and watch for him, ness crushed out of them by neglect, I felt and perhaps he'll come.”

what a brute I was to waste my life, when there On the second day after Fred had formed was so much work for me to do. So, Dick, I this resolution, and while he was hanging determined to go to college, not at first quite about near his old home, a kind voice startled sure whether to go into the Church or to behim by exclaiming

come a doctor. I made up my mind to the “Hallo ! Fred !"

latter, and for the last two years I have been Looking up he recognised Harry, dressed working very hard. I have neglected you in deep mourning. “It's a long time since I shamefully, Dick. I thought I was doing saw you. How are you all ?” said the merry right, but I see now I was doing it the wrong voice.

way. But I have tried to do better ; often Oh, sir !” cried the child, “ father's dead, and often I have fallen back. I am yet very Alfy's come back, and Dick's dying." far from good; but, with God's help, I

Dick dying !” exclaimed Harry, thunder- hopestruck Oh, why was I so long!” The “I'm so glad," whispered Dick. “Sir,"

on.

66

he said presently, “ do you think I shall die “Take me, too. Oh, Dick, you mustn't to-day?"

leave me ! I'm so tired; take me, too,” The question was asked so wistfully that sobbed the poor child. Harry could hardly answer,

I can't, Fred; I must go alone. You “ Yes."

must try to be happy without me." “ Then this is my dying day?"

“No, no, I can't live without you, indeed "I fear so," said Harry, surprised.

I can't. Oh, Dickie, Dickie ! don't go, don't “Well, I want to tell you something my go. Stay, and I'll work for you always and father said I was not to tell till my dying always," he moaned, holding Dick with his day.” He then, in a few words, narrated two little arms. their father's and mother's story. “My “You have worked for me too long mother had another son, who went to live already, darling,” sighed Dick. "Now God with his grandfather. But I don't know his wants me; so it's all right.” grandfather's name.”

“ But want you too; I want you more “What was your mother's name before she than God does." was married ?"

No, no, darling," whispered Dick, kiss“Helen Johnston, I think."

ing him fervently. “Now, Freddy, go to “And her son's ?” breathlessly inquired sleep.” And very soon the little fellow sobbed Harry.

himself to rest. “Harry.”

"Ain't he pretty ?” said Dick, as he gazed Then it all flashed across him. He remem- proudly on the little face, now flushed with bered where he had seen the eyes so like slumber. “He's so pretty! I suppose it's Dick's. His heart gave a great leap. all right; but oh, baby, it's hard, hard to

Dick !” cried he, “ I am that Harry-leave you !” I am your brother !"

He lay quiet for a short time, and Harry, “What?” said Dick wonderingly.

thinking that Freddy's weight might fatigue “I am your brother, Dick."

him, was about to take the child away. The little arms were thrown round the “No, please, sir, let him stay. It's the young man's neck.

last time he'll sleep with me. Good night, “My own, big, beautiful brother?” gasped little Freddy. Oh, my baby, good night.” Dick. “Oh, God is very good.”

And with his lips upon his sleeping brother's “Live, Dick, live ! You shall come to my cheek, he fell asleep for ever. home, and never leave me more," cried the It had been quite dark; but just as the young man, holding him tightly in his strong soul passed away the moon shone forth in

her quiet beauty, shone on the curly heads of “Too late," murmured Dick. And in his the little brothers as they nestled together for brother's arms he fell asleep. When he the last time, awoke he seemed to have forgotten all that They unclasped the stony arms from had just passed, though quite clear in his head around the warm living body, and laid little otherwise.

Freddy down on his own mattress. Alfy,” said he, and as Alfred came and Thus the pure soul passed from earth, stood by him, Dick gently took his hand, leaving every one who had come within its “Alfy, be kind to the children, and promise influence nobler and better. me one thing."

The impetuous Harry buried Dick by the “ What?"

side of old Mr. Lindsay and his wife, who “Never to touch drink again.”

had died within a year of each other. “Never," answered Alfred through his Then Harry took his brothers and sister clenched teeth.

home, and soothed and comCorted them as “I trust you. Good-bye. Mary”-he best he might. Only kissed her. Then his eyes wandered When last we heard of them, Harry was round in search of Fred. “Fred,” he whis- going about as a doctor among the poor of pered, holding out his arms, “my baby, London, healing and helping all he could. come.” And as the little head nestled Fred had just taken his degree as M.D. beside him he looked up in an agony. Alfred was second mate on board a large “Oh, how can I tell him-he's such a little ship. But through all their happiness and thing !"

prosperity one thought binds them together, No one answered ; only Harry gave a one name is dearer to them than all other

earthly names. It is the loved and honoured “Baby, I'm going away,” said Dick gently. name of Little Dick.

arms.

great sob.

MAY MEETINGS AND THE MISSIONARY SPIRIT.

OUR MONTHLY SURVEY.

evangelization of the world; although each of us 1.-HOME NOTES.

may well strive faithfully to “judge himself” in the matter. We should be unthankful, however, did we

fail to rejoice in the many signs which exist in the So far as we can judge, the attendance at the Church of to-day of the presence of missionary zeal.

London May Meetings this year has scarcely It is not, indeed, perhaps in any of us, a zeal of such been so large as usual. This probably is chiefly to fervour and intensity as to be adequate to the greatbe accounted for by the long-continued depression of ness and significance of the Master's parting comtrade, which already very sensibly affects the “spend- mission to His disciples; but it exists in a degree ing power” of many people. It has been gratifying, which at least bears witness that His Church still however, to learn that the contributions to nearly all knows something of His spirit, and is constrainedthe principal societies, for the purpose of spreading if, alas ! too often with faltering step and at a far the knowledge of the Gospel throughout the world, distance—to follow Him in that path of service for have proved unexpectedly satisfactory. We may mankind which His infinite love and compassion mention two or three examples. The Church Mis constrained Him to pursue even to the end. The sionary Society announces a total general income sincere Christian will often utter a yearning cry for (exclusive of gifts for special objects, amounting to the gift of more of this spirit, and one great purpose about £16,000) of £207,000, no less than £31,000 in of May Meetings, when their true idea is realised, is advance of the preceding year. The Bible Society to quicken in all true hearts this sublime longing. reports an income, from contributions and sales together, of £212,300, which is an increase of about COMPLETION OF KEBLE COLLEGE, OXFORD. 65,300. The Wesleyan Missionary Society's income The foundation of Keble College, Oxford, however was £146,000, which large amount shows a small the omen may be interpreted, is certainly an event of decrease (of about £200) as compared with the pre- which it is necessary to take account in any attempt ceding year.

The contributions to the London to divine the tendency of the ecclesiastical, theoloMissionary Society for general purposes were the gical, and religious movements in this country at the largest ever received by the Society, and the total present time. For many centuries Oxford has held a income amounted to £138,000. Large as these sums conspicuous place in the annals of the religious as are, they do not appear to be fully equal to the well as of the social life of England ; and in modern requirements of the organizations on behalf of times it has been the starting-point of two remarkable which they have been subscribed. The expen- revivals which have profoundly and permanently diture of the Church Missionary Society, which affected the course of Christianity, and the typical includes the payment of a deficiency on the forms of Christian thought and character, amongst account of the previous year, exceeds the income us. Methodism was born in those academic shades, by about £4,300. The Bible Society has expended, and there the High Church movement took its rise. chiefly upon efforts for the circulation of the Widely different as these two developments of reliScriptures in connection with the Russo-Turkish gious thought and activity are in conception and War, nearly £16,000 more than it has received. The principle, there are some striking parallels in their expenditure of the Wesleyan Missionary Society has history; and the group of leaders of the later movealso exceeded the income by about £13,000, and the ment–Newman, Pusey, Keble, and others, will official statement has been made that unless the probably be regarded by future generations as, at ordinary resources of the Society are increased to the least, as remarkable as the Wesleys, Whitefield, and extent of £20,000 a year, it will be impossible to their companions. Setting aside for a moment the continue the present scale of operations. On every thought of the mischievous sacerdotalism and the hand it is clear that the tendency is for those who concomitant ritualism which have done so much to direct the work of these and similar great religious alienate and alarm Protestant observers of the progress organizations, to find their labours extending in new of High Churchism, an alarm most painfully justified directions, and to feel then selves confronted by new by the numerous secessions from the ranks of High opportunities and consequent responsibilities. There Churchmen to those of the Papacy, we can all recogis no sign, however, that religious people generally nise the presence among the followers of Dr. Newman are appalled or dismayed by this yearly develop and of Dr. Pusey of a real spiritual energy, producing ment of the great duties to the discharge of which an earnestness of evangelistic effort, a fervent style of they have set themselves, or that their confidence in preaching, and a zeal in various forms of service, the societies organized for the carrying out of mis- which, besides their direct effect, have done much to sion work is on the decline. With strenuous devo- arouse emulation in Christians of very different doction, and often at the cost of some considerable self- trinal and ecclesiastical convictions. denial, they annually cast their gifts into the treasury. Keble College is in the first instance intended as a It is not for any merely húman observer to judge how tribute to the genius, character, and influence of the far such gifts are the expression of a true zeal for the author of the Christian Year, but it must also be VII. N.S.

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