pretendingThe father pretended not to hear the scuffling of small feet.
The father pretended not to hear the scuffling of small feet.
The father pretended not to hear the scuffling of small feet.
The two men looked at one another and laughed, and the father pretended not to hear the scuffling of small feet upon the stairs. The Bishop went home with no weight on his conscience—only a little pathetic envy of the man he had just left. Somehow those stifled scufflings up the stairs had gone straight to the depths of his very tender and lonely heart.
"The Bishop knows all 'bout it," excused Sandy sturdily, when confronted by Marjorie the next morning.
"The Bishop knows that all your clothes are in the bath, with both taps running!"
"Well, he does," Sandy repeated, "proberly. He said we were the out-an'-outest dirtiest little grubs he'd ever seen."
"That you are—no one will contradict him. But he couldn't know that your clothes were in the bath."
"Yes, he would. If they were so dirty, where else could they be? It's all that 'gustin' funderstorm."
"Thunderstorm!" echoed Marjorie suspiciously. "That was at ten o'clock. What has that got to do with your clothes and the Bishop?"
"Tell you it has. You'd best ask him, if you don't b'lieve me," said Sandy, hurt at her unbelief. "Anyhow, he does know that they was dirty. An' just cos we want to save trouble an' wash 'em ourselves, you're cross an' spiteful. Girls are no good—'cept little uns. What's there to put on? Best be somefink old, cos there's a deal of diggin' to be done."
"I shall stop that digging if you make such a mess of yourselves."
"You'd best not," said David meaningly, from his bed in the further corner. "If you do, you'll be sorry," he said darkly.
END OF CHAPTER SIX.
songs
By the Rev. Hugh Miller, M.A.
"Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God inthe highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."—St. Lukeii. 13, 14.
TThree times are we told in Scripture that the angels sang. At the birth of the world, when the foundations of the earth were laid, the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy. When Jesus was born into the world a multitude of the heavenly host praised God and said, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." And when anyone is born again there is joy among the angels in heaven over the sinner that repenteth. The subject of the song in each case is the same: the leadingmotifof them all is man.
Three times are we told in Scripture that the angels sang. At the birth of the world, when the foundations of the earth were laid, the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy. When Jesus was born into the world a multitude of the heavenly host praised God and said, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." And when anyone is born again there is joy among the angels in heaven over the sinner that repenteth. The subject of the song in each case is the same: the leadingmotifof them all is man.
Man, to begin with, was God's chief end in creation, and the angels sang not so much because a new world had been made, but rather because a new being akin to themselves was put into it, to whom they might minister and with whom they might co-operate in the doing of God's most holy will; and this season comes to remind us of our inherent dignity in God's sight, of the noble ideal He has formed for us, of the value He sets on those whom He sent His Son to seek and to save. As God made us and as He intends us to be, we are not a little higher only than the animals, we are rather only "a little lower than the angels." He has crowned us with glory and honour and set us over the work of His hands. He has put all things under our feet. The material universe was made for man, to be his home, to develop his powers, to be a test and discipline of his moral character. I refuse to be reduced to the same rank, or to be placed in the same order, as the beasts that perish. Remembering the angels' first song, I assert my supremacy.
And man is most of all supreme because God has given him the freedom to choose the objects of his life, and the means by which he can secure them. Sun, moon and stars are bound by laws which they cannot transgress. The movements of theanimals are guided by impulses and instincts over which they have no moral control. To man alone belongs the power of refusing to bow before God's greatness and of disobeying God's commands. Man only has this sovereignty; but his sovereignty led to his servitude, and the chains that bound him were forged by an angel who fell before man's fall.
If, then, all the angels worshipped and adored when man was made with the great gift of free choice, how must the holy ones that remained after the first and great apostasy have grieved when the fallen angels took man along with them in their fall! For because of man's disobedience God's idea in making man seemed to be thwarted and the peace and good will to which he was called appeared no longer possible. Instead of being the master of creation, he was now to a large extent its unhappy victim.
We know from hints thrown out here and there in Scripture with what absorbing interest the angels followed the plans of God to bring order once more out of the chaos caused by sin, and the effort He put forth to create a new heaven and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. No wonder, then, that when the fulness of the time was come, and God sent His Son, made of a woman, made under the law to redeem man, the angels should have sung a second time, and anticipated for man at last a happy time of peace and good will.
The angels had a clear perception of the purpose of Christ's coming. One of the chief of them said to Joseph, "Thou shalt call His nameJesus: for He shall save His people from their sins." And they all sang when He came, because they knew that God was now dealing in a special and most effective way with that dark thing which cast its shadow on heaven as well as on earth. And it becomes us to remember that it is the sin of man which in the mind of God and His holy angels is associated with the coming of Jesus Christ. To this end was He born, and for this cause came He into the world.
The sin of our first parents had passed on from generation to generation, and each one of the millions of mankind had to say, "Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me"; and each fulfilled in his own life all too truly the sad promise of his birth. How was the tradition to be broken, and yet broken by one who really belonged to the race? The instincts of man himself foreshadowed the truth. Stories of a virgin birth here and there discernible in paganism show the deep intuition which was realised in Jesus Christ. He came into the world to fight with sin, to redeem a race steeped in a terrible heritage of evil, and that He might redeem it He Himself was born, and yet was free from evil.
He fought sin and He conquered it. Why, then, has the angels' song not been fulfilled? Why does sin still cast its shadow on earth and heaven alike? Why does God's loving purpose in sending His Son seem still to suffer so wide defeat? Because in his recovery as in his fall, man's will must play its part. I can only be saved from sin when Iwillto be saved; I only become a partaker of the benefits which Christ brought from heaven to earth when, yielding to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, I turn with full accord to Jesus Christ as my Saviour. Marvel not, therefore, that we say to you with peculiar emphasis on the day in which Christ was born, "Ye must be born again." Otherwise, His birth is of no avail to you and me. We are not honouring Him, we are putting Him rather to an open shame, if we keep out of our thoughts at this time the supreme purpose of His coming, if we are not personally dealing with Him even now as to the burden and guilt of our sin.
But we can set the angels a-singing in the sky, and the melody of their music can be felt in our own hearts, if we turn in lowly penitence to Him who came to save His people from their sins, and to quicken them to a new life of righteousness and peace and joy. Only when a man comes to himself in lowly penitence, and then goes to his Father with a lofty faith, does he enter into the full purpose of his manhood; and only then, also, is there not only joy among the angels in heaven over the sinner that thus repenteth, but there is music and dancing on the earth as well, and the old life ends in which sin reigned, and the new begins in which Christ reigns; and His reign means "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to men."
"There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked."
Words byArthur Bryant.Music byCharles Bassett.
1. O wondrous night! O wondrous night! we fain would tellThe news the Angel told;The holy vision which befelThe Shepherds by their fold.With fear they saw, with gladness heardThe heav'nly minstrelsy,With hope each trembling heart was stirredAt that sweet harmony: ..."We bring good news Which ne'er shall cease;To God be praise, to God be praise,On earth be peace."2. O wondrous sight! O wondrous sight for simple swains,With hasty steps who sped;The music of those joyous strainsTo that poor manger led.With awe they gazed on Christ the LordAmid that happy throng,And Israel at His feet adored,Taught by the Angels' song: ..."We bring good news, Which ne'er shall cease;To God be praise, to God be praise,On earth be peace."3. O wondrous night! they homeward turnedTo where their flocks did lay,And sang the song they late had learnedTo cheer them on their way.The timid dawn began to peerAcross the dewy wold;Their lips in accents loud and clearThe gladsome tidings told:"We bring good news," &c.4. O wondrous sight, that God should liveIn robe of flesh for man!O wondrous Love, Himself to giveWhen closed His mortal span!Sing, O ye skies! be joyful, earth!Ye winds, bear o'er the seasThe news of blessèd Jesu's birth,And those sweet harmonies:"We bring good news," &c.
1. O wondrous night! O wondrous night! we fain would tellThe news the Angel told;The holy vision which befelThe Shepherds by their fold.With fear they saw, with gladness heardThe heav'nly minstrelsy,With hope each trembling heart was stirredAt that sweet harmony: ..."We bring good news Which ne'er shall cease;To God be praise, to God be praise,On earth be peace."
2. O wondrous sight! O wondrous sight for simple swains,With hasty steps who sped;The music of those joyous strainsTo that poor manger led.With awe they gazed on Christ the LordAmid that happy throng,And Israel at His feet adored,Taught by the Angels' song: ..."We bring good news, Which ne'er shall cease;To God be praise, to God be praise,On earth be peace."
3. O wondrous night! they homeward turnedTo where their flocks did lay,And sang the song they late had learnedTo cheer them on their way.The timid dawn began to peerAcross the dewy wold;Their lips in accents loud and clearThe gladsome tidings told:"We bring good news," &c.
4. O wondrous sight, that God should liveIn robe of flesh for man!O wondrous Love, Himself to giveWhen closed His mortal span!Sing, O ye skies! be joyful, earth!Ye winds, bear o'er the seasThe news of blessèd Jesu's birth,And those sweet harmonies:"We bring good news," &c.
comfort
By Lina Orman Cooper, Author of "The House Beautiful," Etc.
TThe House Beautiful must needs be also the House Comfortable, if we take true loveliness to consist of perfect fitness for service. Thoroughness is the keynote of each. In order to strike it we must have entered heart and soul into Ruskin's translation of St. Ursula's Room. Carpaccio himself painted the useful in the beautiful in this famous picture. From the princess's book, set up at a slope fittest for reading, to the shelf which runs under the window, providing a place to put things on—from a silver lamp on the white wall to the little blue slippers beside her bed, each detail ensures comfort of the first quality.
The House Beautiful must needs be also the House Comfortable, if we take true loveliness to consist of perfect fitness for service. Thoroughness is the keynote of each. In order to strike it we must have entered heart and soul into Ruskin's translation of St. Ursula's Room. Carpaccio himself painted the useful in the beautiful in this famous picture. From the princess's book, set up at a slope fittest for reading, to the shelf which runs under the window, providing a place to put things on—from a silver lamp on the white wall to the little blue slippers beside her bed, each detail ensures comfort of the first quality.
Comfort is a thing quite apart from fashion. So it is easier to indicate the road which leads to the House Comfortable than it was to point out details in the House Beautiful. We most of us agree about the essentials required for real comfort: chairs upon which you can sit fearlessly; beds which rest and do not bruise; arms that support without cramping; pokers that bend not; strong tables and sharp knives, these are a sample of the things I mean. But true comfort depends on more than surface surroundings. It is indissolubly linked with attention to detail. The houses to which guests return time after time is the one in which soap is never absent from its tray, and where pillows are not only covered with frilled slips, but also stuffed with down and interlined with soft covering in place of waxed ticking.
I would say, first of all, that the House Comfortable must stand in a sunny situation. This ensures warmth and light, without which our bodies are ill-nourished and miserable. "Where the sun never comes the doctor does" is a much-to-be-quoted proverb. We cannot all live exactly where we like. Circumstances of business, and means, generally determine locality. But common-sense must guide us in the selection of our houses. If we would be really comfortable, we must live in light, dry, airy, and clean homes. Never take a house on the sole recommendation of its pretty appearance. To have a really beautiful house we must first see that it is essentially built for comfort. The really useful and good is generally ornamental, for it possesses the realistic beauty offitness. A north and south aspect for the chief sitting rooms, with east and west windows, secures both sunshine and shade. We want afternoon coolness as well as morning light. If our apartment looks towards the sun rising, heavy curtains should be ready to draw when east wind rages. A stick to effect this noiselessly is a small boon much appreciated. If our casement faces the golden gates of the west, no such protection is called for. But all windows should have double blinds—white outside, to absorb heat, and dark inside, to veil the sun when necessary. The comfort of lying in bed, facing a dark green blind can only be estimated by those who have reluctantly been disturbed by the too early shafts of the god Phœbus.
There should be a triple water supply in the House Comfortable; ewers always filled from the soft-water pump. Every well and tank should be tested ere we take up residence. Pure water, and plenty of it, is essential to the health (and therefore comfort) of every household. It should be perfectly clear and bright, and free from taste or smell. Yet impurity may lurk even in the most sparkling water. Therefore science must decide as to its desirability. If only iron or lime water is procurable, jars of lump ammonia, or a bottle of cloudy liquid ammonia, a bag of oatmeal or a bundleof bran should lie on every washstand. The hot-water boiler not only supplies unlimited baths, but may be devised to heat the house. In every Canadian home a stove in the cellar warms the rooms above by means of drums and fans. We might do much the same in England with our hot-water pipes. These should certainly run through the linen-press and clothes cupboards, and terminate in bathroom spirals. On these, towels and rough sheets could be dried and aired. A face cloth always warm is one of the luxuries in our House Comfortable.
After sanitation, ventilation takes its place in the home. How to secure a constant supply of fresh air is a question which demands most serious consideration. In ages past, houses were unintentionally ventilated by the ill-fitting doors and window-frames, wide chimneys, and open fire-places. But in our modern buildings comfort is secured by almost air-tight doors and windows. Ventilators at the top of such are delightful and necessary for real comfort, or a Queen Anne casement may have a swing in its upper frame. It is not always easy, however, to secure exemption from draught in our modern mansions. When the brick-and-mortar fiend has placed door, window, and fireplace exactly opposite each other, screens must be judiciously used. A brass rod from which hangs a curtain, screwed into the door jamb and suspended by a tiny chain from the ceiling, is a good thing, or an ordinaryportièremay be allowed. The former plan, however, enables us to keep the door open without feeling a wind.
Padded stair-carpets secure noiseless ascent in the House Comfortable. Cork mats by the big bath are welcome to bare feet. Many cupboards are a necessity. A place for everything and everything in its place is one of the initial rules for everyone's comfort. It is also Divine law. Hanging presses, medicine cupboards, butler's pantry, housemaid's closets, keep dresses from dust, poisons from the unwary, silver and glass intact, and brushes unworn.
The House Comfortable must not be over-servanted. Neither must it be undermanned. Of the two evils, the latter is preferable, as the mistress herself then looks after the minutiæ of her house. With all deference to Matthew Prior, comfort does not flow on a line with ignorance. It requires a cultivated intelligence to provide such in our homes.
Education has done much for us on this point. How not to do it in the House Comfortable is exemplified by the abodes of our forefathers. Going over Beaumaris Castle the other day, I noted the small apertures for exit; the high caverns of chimneys; the windows of horn; the crooked stairs. Nowadays we find stoves and slow combustion grates quite a necessity for comfort—whilst lofty ceilings, broad staircases, and wide windows can be quite as picturesque, and are far more to be desired.
The dictionary definition of the word "comfort" implies enlivenment and capability for dispensing bodily ease. For this, moral qualities are as necessary as well-planned, well-equipped houses.
Punctuality, for instance, is an ingredient required to secure a comfortable home.
When breakfast and dinner are movable feasts, served up at the whim of a lie-a-bed or a gad-about, they can only be make-believes, after all. Cold coffee is unpalatable even when partaken of in a sunny room. Whitey-brown sausages are unappetising unless piping from the pot. Yet this—like all other virtues—may be strained too far. Nothing is more uncomfortable than to feel no latitude is allowed to a weary guest, or to find one's host at marmalade three minutes after the time appointed for the disappearance of a savoury. Courtesy in this must be our rule. Neatness is another necessity. No house can be really comfortable that is littered with papers, or in which boots lie in the drawing-room—yet finickiness in arrangement makes the home unbearable. The most uncomfortable visit I ever paid was to the most scientifically correct house. Chairs were not allowed to touch the wall-paper; footstools never shifted. A towel for wiping down the varnish of the bath was provided, and—I was made miserable! By all means keep paint and paper in as much primitive purity as possible, but let unobtrusive service guard these points.
Much more could I discourse of the House Comfortable, but space forbids. Let me only remind you that the veriest cottage—plenished with wisdom and lovingly provided—may fulfil all its conditions just as well as the most luxurious castle.
Told in Sunshine Room.]
donkey
By Alfred T. Story
IA week passed before anything further was heard. Then a summons came for Tam to appear before her Majesty on the following afternoon. He was duly in attendance, and had not long to wait before a man in Highland costume came into the room where he was seated and said—"Noo, my braw laddie, her Most Gracious Majesty and his Royal Highness the Prince Consort will come in through that door in twa seconds. When they enter all you hae to dy is ta stan' up an' mak' yer obeisance. An' when they ax ye a question jist ye say yes or nae, your Majesty, or your Royal Highness, as the case may be. An' if they ax ye naething—weel, jist ye say naething in return."
A week passed before anything further was heard. Then a summons came for Tam to appear before her Majesty on the following afternoon. He was duly in attendance, and had not long to wait before a man in Highland costume came into the room where he was seated and said—
"Noo, my braw laddie, her Most Gracious Majesty and his Royal Highness the Prince Consort will come in through that door in twa seconds. When they enter all you hae to dy is ta stan' up an' mak' yer obeisance. An' when they ax ye a question jist ye say yes or nae, your Majesty, or your Royal Highness, as the case may be. An' if they ax ye naething—weel, jist ye say naething in return."
With these words the wise servitor withdrew. Barely had he gone out of one door ere the other opened, and the same lady he had seen before, leaning on the arm of the gentleman he likewise remembered, appeared before friend Tam. They were both dressed much more richly than when he had previously seen them, the lady having a brilliant star on her breast, and the gentleman wearing a silken sash over his shoulder.
For a moment the boy was confused, but he recovered himself sufficiently to recollect that he had to make an "obeisance." He had omitted to ask the Highland gentleman what that was, but he thought it must be something like the soldier's salute, and so he stood perfectly upright and saluted.
"So you have come, my lad, to see her Majesty about the position of donkey-boy?" said the gentleman.
"Yes, sir—your Royal Highness," replied Tam. Only when he had got out the word "sir" did it flash upon him that he was standing before the Queen and her Royal Consort.
"Well, her Majesty has caused inquiries to be made about you, and she finds that, although you are a little wayward and sometimes disobedient to your grandparents, you are not on the whole a bad boy."
"No, your Royal Highness," said Tam.
"Does that mean that you are not a bad boy, or that you do not sometimes disobey your grandparents?"
This question, though backed by a genial smile, somewhat disconcerted the would-be donkey-boy. He was silent for a moment, then he answered, looking first at one and then at the other, with that straight glance of his, "I hae sometimes been disobedient to mygrandparents, but I think I have learned better now."
"I am glad to hear that," said the Prince.
Then, speaking for the first time, the Queen said, "Well, Tam, if I make you my donkey-boy, will you promise to be obedient to all my slightest wishes and commands? Do not answer lightly. I am a severe mistress in that I expect the strictest obedience and attention to duty. But I, in return, am strict in doing my duty to those I employ."
"And if you prove a worthy and trustworthy servant," added the Prince, "your position is secure for life."
"Not, however, as a mere donkey-boy all your days," put in the Queen with a smile.
Said Tam with a faltering tongue: "If ye'll try me, your Majesty, I'll do my best, and," he added, as though struck with a sudden thought, "I'll no need to lick the donkeys, 'cos I ken hoo ta mek 'em run 'thout the stick."
YettaYetta threw up her hands in amaze.
Yetta threw up her hands in amaze.
Yetta threw up her hands in amaze.
"And how do you do that?" asked the Prince with a smile.
"I meks 'em carry a bunch o' thistles afore 'em."
"Well, we will see," replied her Majesty, smiling. "Now you may run home and tell your grandparents you are to be ready to begin duty this day week. But before you go you will see the gentleman who spoke to you a minute or two ago."
With these words and a kindly smile the Sovereign and her Royal Consort withdrew.
The one door closed, the other immediately opened, and again entered the Highland gentleman. "Sae ye hae been engagit ta look after ta cuddies, eh?" he questioned.
Tam said he had.
"Aweel, it's a verra guid step in life for a young callant to begin wi', an' if ye tek heed there's nae telling whereto it may lead—ablins even to the primiership, if ye ken what that is. For ye mun know, the gift o' the heaven-made Prime Minister is just to ken hoo ta manage a' th' human cuddies that are sent to Parliament to bother 'em. But mebbe a' that's a wee bit abune yer understanding as yet, and sae we'll just leave it an' speer aboot yer claes."
Needless to say how surprised Donal and Yetta were to hear Tam's story, how thankful to reflect that their boy was to have such a start in life. He reported to them what had been said, and the promise he had given, and they believed that, like the Jamison he was, he would be true to his word. All the same, they did not omit to pray for that guidance and support for him without which his own efforts would be vain.
The evening before Tam's week was up a parcel was delivered at Jamison's door, addressed to his grandson. It contained a complete new suit, as the Highland gentleman had said, "from the skin outwards." Never was seen such a brave outfit, to Tam's thinking. He turned it over and admired it, article by article, for at least a couple of hours, but would not try it on, or any part of it, until he had had a good wash. The tub was never a thing he was shy of, but on this occasionit was used as though he intended to wash out his every fault, as well as all the merely superficial smuts and stains that had accumulated, so as to appear before his Queen a spotlessly clean cuddy-tender.
When the operation was completed, Tam indued himself in his new garments and went on parade, so to speak, before his grandmother. Yetta was busy stirring the matutinal porridge when he walked into the ben and said:
"How do I look, granny?"
Yetta, turning round, threw up her hands in amaze. She hardly knew him, so great was the transformation effected by the new clothes and the scrubbing he had given himself. Donal was no less surprised when he came in from his morning milking. Tam looked two inches taller and a lot sprucer.
"Ye mind me of yer puir father," said the old man as he sat down to breakfast.
That was a note of sad recollection which brought tears to Yetta's eyes; but a smile was soon gleaming through them when Tam, getting sight of Meg, who was eyeing him as it were askance, said drily, "Meg looks as if she hardly kenned what ta mek of her handiwark; for the beginning o't was a' her doing."
Just then the noise of wheels was heard on the road, and as the messenger who brought the clothes left word that one of the Queen's carriages would pick him up on the morrow, Tam thought surely this was the one. But it was not. Indeed, he ran to the door at least twenty times ere, towards eleven o'clock, his vehicle arrived. It was a quaint affair, half carriage, half wash-basket, drawn by two asses, creatures as beautiful of their kind as could be found. It was driven by her whom he knew, and by her side were several bright little faces, while the Highland gentleman, riding behind on one pony, as sturdy and Hielan' as himself, led another by the bridle.
Donal and Yetta came out and with bowed heads thanked the august though simple-hearted lady for the great kindness she had shown to their boy. She replied with a kindly smile:
"There appears to be the making of a good man in him, and, with God's help, we will do our best to make him one."
Little more was said, and, mounting the led pony, Tam rode off by the side of the faithful retainer, who never got further away from the carriage than the dust raised by its wheels.
Thus commenced Tam's career in life. Though he served the noblest lady in the land, he did not find his way one altogether of buttered parsnips and cream. The one thing abhorrent to his royal mistress was idleness and indifference. The motto of her establishment—of all her establishments—was "The diligent eye." In this principle she found not only the best interests of her own house, but the best interests also of those who served her.
Tam could not be called idle, nor could he be called exactly indifferent; but during the years of his tending of cattle and sheep on the brae-side he had got into the habit of liking to loll about, to saunter and dream, and then to make up, or try to make up, the leeway of work or duty by a spurt of energy. Another fault he had was to leave things about—for others to "side" or put in order. This arose, no doubt, from the narrow dimensions of his home, where there was hardly room for everything to have its particular place. It was, however, neither a very grievous nor a deeply rooted fault; and a little sharp drilling, not unfrequently at the hands of the Highland gentleman—a sort of major of the household, who possessed "the diligent eye"par excellence—soon corrected Tam's delinquency in this regard.
But the other fault was more deeply rooted and cost the young donkey-boy many a bad quarter of an hour. Indeed, on one occasion it nearly cost him his place. He had been given a task to do, and in place of doing it with all diligence he had been found with his feet growing to the ground, as it were. The consequence was an interview with the Highland gentleman, who told him, "Tam, ye have either ta pe punisht or to leave her Majesty's service: which shall it pe?"
"I'll tek the punishment, sir, if you please," he answered.
"Tam, ye are a wise poy, an' we'll mebby mek a man o' ye yet," said the major-domo.
Tam took his punishment, and was the better for it; but he still failed to come up to his royal mistress's ideal of a servant. Like his fellow-servitors, he had plenty of time for rest and recreation: hours of labour were by no means long.So much time had he, indeed, for himself, that the Highland gentleman put suitable books before him, and counselled him to improve his mind by reading and study. He failed, however, to profit by the advice, and was presently made aware of his error by a violent thunder-clap.
He was in attendance on his royal mistress one day, when she and the children were out for a drive. A poor body was met, in apparent distress, by the wayside. Inquiry was made as to her condition, present help was extended, and a promise of future beneficence given if further investigation should warrant its bestowal. Hence the necessity arose for an address to be written down, and Tam, who was that day the only person in attendance, was requested to do it.
When Tam entered the royal service he could read a bit and write very imperfectly; but there had been time, had he followed the counsel given him, to have greatly improved himself in both those accomplishments. Not having done so, he fumbled egregiously over the task set him, and, in short, made such a hash of it that an eye of wrath was turned upon him.
Tam had seen that eye in all its moods—of laughter and smiles, of grief, of earnestness, of affection, even of solemnity and awe, but he had never as yet beheld it flash in indignant wrath. He felt as though the muscles of his knees had been cut away and the ground was sinking from under his feet. What would he not have given to be miles away! But he had to face the storm, and it came in this way:
"Were not books and paper and ink put before you? And were you not advised to improve your reading and writing?"
Tam falteringly admitted that such was the case.
"Why did you not attend to the advice?"
"I—I——" stammered the ease-loving Tam.
"Had you not the time?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you not do as you were wished?"
Tam hung his head in shame.
"Tam Jamison, listen to me. I will have those in my employ attend to my wishes, and attend to them with all their might. Do you wish to be ignorant all your life, when the time and the means for improvement are placed at your command? In three months' time I shall expect you to read and write in such a way that you will be able to fulfil in a creditable manner a simple duty like that you have to-day so grievously failed in. Now we'll go on."
Tam Jamison wanted no more speaking to. He was now thoroughly awake: and he went to work with all his might to do the behest of his mistress and Sovereign, and, in truth, he made prodigious progress; so that when it happened one day—he being then in attendance on her Majesty in another part of the country—that she required the names of several rare plants to be written down for her future use, he did it so cleverly that he was rewarded with a pleased smile.
Tam felt that he had acquired wings that afternoon, and the strangest part of the affair was, that when he came to reckon up precisely, he discovered that it was three months to a day since his "royal earwigging," as the Highland gentleman called it.
To that worthy man Jamison communicated his delight. "Ah," said he, "ye thocht, like many anither, that ye were doing a great service to her gracious Majesty by your few hours of daily labour; but, guid faith, she does a mighty deal mair for ye than ye, or ony the likes o' ye, can do for her. Serve 'maist onybody else in the kintra, an' they'll take yer service an' gie ye yer wage, an' there's an end. But when her Majesty teks ye intil her household she teks ye to mek a man o' ye—if it's in ye, ye ken. An' weel she knows hoo ta do it—nane better. Sae ye just go on as ye've begun, Tam Jamison, an' ye'll mebbe no bide a feckless cuddy-callant till ye're auld an' blind."
Jamison did not need to be taught his lesson a second time. He made diligent use of his opportunities, and improved so much and so visibly that when he was fifteen he was raised to the position of page. A greater mark of appreciation could hardly be given to one in the royal employ; for her Majesty's pages are amongst the most trusted of her servants.
At first the humbler duties of a page fell to his lot; but as he improved in thoughtfulness and intelligence, and inhis knowledge of the manifold and delicate duties which fell to his care—in which he had the aid and instruction of one of her Majesty's oldest and most experienced pages, a man who had been in her service ever since she ascended the throne—he rose higher and higher in the royal service and the royal consideration, until at last his services were rarely required except on State and exceptional occasions only.
TamTam hung his head in shame.
Tam hung his head in shame.
Tam hung his head in shame.
Scarcely a week passed that he did not recall the words of him we have called the Highland gentleman, when he said that the Queen did more for those in her service than they could ever do for her, in that she not only made men and women of them, but treated them more as gentlemen and ladies than as mere domestics. There were no servants in her employ, no matter how humble their sphere, but she knew them by name and had their welfare at heart; and if they served her well, she never lost sight of them, or forgot them—no, not even when the grave took them into its transitional embrace.
Jamison had had abundant opportunities to note and set these things down in his heart, but he was never so much impressed by her Majesty's deep regard for those who served her faithfully and well as when, one dripping autumn day, he was required to accompany her to the churchyard of a rural village, halfway betwixt London and Windsor—in which, a day or two before, the aged servant above referred to had been buried—in order that she might lay a wreath upon his grave. It bore the words, "In grateful remembrance of a devoted and faithful servant, V.R.," and as she bent down to place it with her own hand upon the grave a tear fell upon the flowers that outshone the brightest jewel of her crown.
By a Leading Temperance Advocate.
RidgeDR. J. J. RIDGE.(Photo: J. Bacon, Newcastle-on-Tyne.)
DR. J. J. RIDGE.(Photo: J. Bacon, Newcastle-on-Tyne.)
DR. J. J. RIDGE.
(Photo: J. Bacon, Newcastle-on-Tyne.)
The story of the Temperance Hospital in Hampstead Road forms one of the most interesting chapters in temperance history. When the experiment of treating accidents and disease without the administration of alcohol was first mooted, the idea was assailed with a storm of criticism in which the medical profession found a most active ally in the public Press. A quarter of a century has now elapsed since the first patient was received in the temporary premises in Gower Street, and although the medical staff have full permission, under certain regulations, to administer alcohol if deemed expedient, the last Report states that out of a total of 13,984 in-patients, alcohol has only been resorted to in twenty-five cases. The percentage of recoveries compares most favourably with the ordinary hospitals, and the cases include every variety of disease and accident. The present head of the medical staff is Dr. J. J. Ridge, who has been connected with the institution from the first. For many years it has been the custom of the United Kingdom Band of Hope Union to organise a Christmas collection in aid of the Temperance Hospital. The amount thus realised has reached many thousand pounds, and it is hoped that this year's collection will prove the best of the series. The body of evidence in favour of total abstinence which the Temperance Hospital has accumulated certainly entitles the institution to the cordial support of the temperance public.
hospitalTHE TEMPERANCE HOSPITAL, HAMPSTEAD ROAD, LONDON.(Photo supplied by the Press Studio.)
THE TEMPERANCE HOSPITAL, HAMPSTEAD ROAD, LONDON.(Photo supplied by the Press Studio.)
THE TEMPERANCE HOSPITAL, HAMPSTEAD ROAD, LONDON.
(Photo supplied by the Press Studio.)
Among the fixtures worth noting may be named the New Year's Meeting of the United Kingdom Band of Hope Union on Saturday, January 7th; the Annual Meeting of the London United Temperance Council, to be addressed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, on February 13th, in the Queen's Hall; a great Industrial Exhibition, promoted by the Hackney and East Middlesex Band of Hope Union, on April 10-13; Temperance Sunday for London Diocese April 23rd (St. George's Day, a grand opportunity for the clergy to strike a national note); and, as it is well to look ahead, a World's Temperance Convention to be held under the auspices of the National Temperance League in 1900.
It may be news to some of our readers that Dr. James A. H. Murray, the editor-in-chief of the monumental literary work which has been in progress for so many years, is an earnest total abstainer and a Vice-President of the National Temperance League. Dictionary-makingand total abstinence seem to run together. In William Ball's "Slight Memorials of Hannah More" is this remark: "I dined last week at the Bishop of Chester's. Dr. Johnson was there. In the middle of dinner I urged Dr. Johnson to take alittlewine. He replied: 'I can't drink alittle, child, therefore I never touch it. Abstinence is as easy to me as temperance would be difficult.'" It is rather curious to note that it is only within recent years that our dictionaries have taken any cognisance of the meaning which temperance people give to the word "pledge." More than this, in the early dictionaries the word was almost exclusively given up to the other side of the drink question. For instance, in Bailey's Dictionary (1736) we have the following definition of the word "pledged":—"Having drank by the recommendation of another."... "The custom of pledging in drinking was occasioned by the Danes, who, while they had the superiority in England, used to stab the English or cut their throats while they were drinking; and thereupon they requested of some sitter-by to be their pledge and security while they drank; so that 'I will pledge you' signifies 'I will be your security that you shall drink in safety.'"
dictionary"DICTIONARY" MURRAY.
"DICTIONARY" MURRAY.
"DICTIONARY" MURRAY.
Contrast this with the definition given in the last edition of Webster's Dictionary:—
"A promise or agreement by which one binds one's self to do, or to refrain from doing something; especially a solemn promise in writing to refrain from using intoxicating liquors or other liquor; as to sign the pledge."
No doubt, when Dr. Murray reaches the letter "P," we shall have a definition even still more illuminating. The New English Dictionary viewed from a temperance standpoint would make a delightful study. Take, for instance, volume one, in which "Alcohol" has more than a column to itself, while "Ale" has two columns, "Beer" two and a half columns, and "Abstain," "Abstainer," and "Abstaining" are treated with a wealth of illustration and meaning derived from such authorities as Wyclif in 1382 down to J. W. Bardsley (the present Bishop of Carlisle) in 1867, who is pressed into the service in this form:—
"Abstaining.—Practising abstinence (from alcoholic beverages) 1867.J. W. Bardsleyin 'Clerical Testimony to Total Abstinence' 30: 'The bride was the daughter of an abstaining clergyman.'"
sterlingMADAME ANTOINETTE STERLING.(Photo: Walery, Ltd., Regent Street, W.)
MADAME ANTOINETTE STERLING.(Photo: Walery, Ltd., Regent Street, W.)
MADAME ANTOINETTE STERLING.
(Photo: Walery, Ltd., Regent Street, W.)
Now we will leave it to our fair readers to puzzle over until next month as to who the blushing bride was who is thus assured of immortality in the greatest Dictionary the world has ever seen.
"Example is better than precept," says the old adage, and there can be no doubt that the example of Madame Antoinette Sterling and Mrs. Mary Davies in the matter of total abstinence has been of the utmost value. It was at a reception given by Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Sherlock at Hackney, in 1892, to the Archbishop of Canterbury (then Bishop of London), that Madame Sterling, to the surprise of a delighted audience, volunteered "a few words." The gifted singer remarked that "she had been nearly all her life a total abstainer. When on long tours with members of her profession, it had been rather an aggravation to them to see, when they were pretty well prostrated, that she was almost or quite as fresh at the end of the journey as at the beginning. They also complained of the quality of the wine furnished to them, as well as of water. She took milk and cocoa, and also water, of which she did not complain, and scarcely missed one engagement in the seventeen years during which she had been before the public. She had never had a day's bad health, and had not suffered from thoseaches and pains of which she had heard other people complaining continually." Like Madame Sterling, Mrs. Mary Davies has upon many occasions shown a deep and practical interest in philanthropic work.
DaviesMRS. MARY DAVIES.(Photo: H. S. Mendelssohn, Pembridge Crescent, W.)
MRS. MARY DAVIES.(Photo: H. S. Mendelssohn, Pembridge Crescent, W.)
MRS. MARY DAVIES.
(Photo: H. S. Mendelssohn, Pembridge Crescent, W.)