GEMS GATHERED IN HASTE:A New Year's Gift for Sunday Schools Dedicated, As a labor of love, To four Sunday Schools, Each of which will know that it is one of the four By the initials of Their friend, T. B. F. A BRIGHT THOUGHT SPEEDILY EXECUTED. It is an excellent rule, no doubt, children, not to be in a hurry; andthe proverbs, "Take time by the forelock" and "The more haste theworse speed, " are wise proverbs, worth keeping. But occasions occur, once in a while, when working hastily is a great deal better than notworking at all, and may be working to some purpose too. I remember acase of this kind. In a certain town, on the forenoon of July 3, 183-, when "Floral Processions" were novel affairs, a company of ladies andgentlemen were assembled in a barn-chamber, finishing off and packingup a lot of moss baskets, and arranging bunches of flowers to be sentto Boston, to the Warren-street Chapel, by the mail coach at 3o'clock, P. M. It was about 10 o'clock when one of the party, --supposewe call him, for convenience just now, Mr. Perseverance, --who had beenlooking out of the window, down upon a very little garden, suddenlyturned round, and exclaimed that something might be made prettier thanany thing they had yet done. He told what it was. "It is impossible todo it now. We must wait till next year, " said his friends. "Nothinglike trying: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. No time likethe present, " replied Mr. Perseverance, a pertinacious gentleman, whowanted to "strike when the iron was hot, " and carry out his notionwithout delay. Accordingly, he caught up two sticks, and nailed themtogether, so as to get the right shape. Then he went down town, --thetown being small, he had not far to go, --begged at the bookstore a few"show-bills, " containing the letters he needed for patterns; bought asheet of gold paper and half an ounce of gum-arabic, twice as much ofboth as he really wanted; people in a hurry are not apt to calculatevery nicely, or be very economical, you know. He carried his articlesback to the barn, and asked a lady to try to cut out a motto he hadselected, and gum it on a ribbon. "But where shall I get the ribbon?"said the lady. "Oh! find it somewhere, " said Mr. Perseverance; "and besure and have all ready when I return. " There was one spot in thewoods he remembered visiting months before with a boy in hisneighborhood, on which grew another material, indispensable to hisproject. He found the lad: they jumped into a chaise; rode two orthree miles to a grove; and, on searching a few moments, found whatthey were after, --a plant green in mid-winter as well as in summer, and prized by everybody who loves Christmas; gathered a bushel of it, more or less; and got home again before dinner. Meanwhile, the lady, with others to help her, had been busy; and all were wide awake now, entering into the spirit of the matter, thinking that the bright ideaof Mr. Perseverance might possibly be accomplished in season. Asplendid bunch of pure white lilies, not quite open, was fastened tothe longest stick, the stems covered with wet paper or moss; then bothpieces of wood were wound round with thick and rich evergreen, leavingthe glorious flowers standing out gracefully, and white as thenew-fallen snow. Next came the motto, in golden letters, on a broadwhite satin ribbon, which Mrs. Perseverance had found: it was the beltof her bridal dress, carefully preserved for several years, and nowdevoted to a good cause. The "emblem" was completed and packed just intime for the coach. "And what was it?" An evergreen cross, with thelilies at the centre; the ribbon hanging as a festoon from the arms, and bearing the words-- "_Consider the Lilies_!" On reaching the city, it was much admired, and attracted a good manyeyes in the show the next day. I believe there has hardly been a"Floral Procession" since, without a similar device; and among thebanners used at the Warren-street Chapel, is a bright one of silk, which has on it the cross and the lilies finely painted. Now, let me tell you why I have sketched this incident as anintroduction to the following pages. On the 24th of December, 1850, aletter came to me from a friend, asking if I was preparing a tract, asin former days, for a New Year's Gift, or if I could help him, hisbrother and sister teachers, in selecting some fit and cheap book forall the two hundred children they love to meet every Sunday. At first, I only thought of answering that I was sorry to say he must look tosomebody else for what was wanted. But I did not quite like to dothis; and, presently remembering the achievement of Mr. Perseverance, I said to myself, if he got that cross made in a few hours, why cannota tract be made in a few days? I consulted the printer, and he agreedto do all he could. So we went to work immediately, and here are the"Gems Gathered in Haste. " * * * * * GEMS GATHERED IN HASTE. * * * * * To show how great evils may be prevented by a little care, and howmuch good a child may do, let me begin with the story of THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM. At an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born inHaarlem, a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, buthappily still more so for its manufactures and inventions in peace. His father was a _sluicer_, --that is, one whose employment it was toopen and shut the sluices, or large oak-gates, which, placed atcertain regular distances, close the entrance of the canals, andsecure Holland from the danger to which it seems exposed, of findingitself under water, rather than above it. When water is wanted, thesluicer raises the sluices more or less, as required, as a cook turnsthe cock of a fountain, and closes them again carefully at night;otherwise the water would flow into the canals, then overflow them, and inundate the whole country; so that even the little children inHolland are fully aware of the importance of a punctual discharge ofthe sluicer's duties. The boy was about eight years old, when, oneday, he asked permission to take some cakes to a poor blind man, wholived at the other side of the dyke. His father gave him leave, butcharged him not to stay too late. The child promised, and set off onhis little journey. The blind man thankfully partook of his youngfriend's cakes; and the boy, mindful of his father's orders, did notwait, as usual, to hear one of the old man's stories; but, as soon ashe had seen him eat one muffin, took leave of him to return home. As he went along by the canals, then quite full, --for it was inOctober, and the autumn rains had swelled the waters, --the boy nowstopped to pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved sowell; now, in childish gayety, hummed some merry song. The roadgradually became more solitary; and soon neither the joyous shout ofthe villager, returning to his cottage-home, nor the rough voice ofthe carter, grumbling at his lazy horses, was any longer to be heard. The little fellow now perceived that the blue of the flowers in hishand was scarcely distinguishable from the green of the surroundingherbage, and he looked up in some dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark winter night, but one of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which every object is perceptible, though not asdistinctly as by day. The child thought of his father, of hisinjunction, and was preparing to quit the ravine in which he wasalmost buried, and to regain the beach, when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles, attracted his attention. Hewas near one of the large sluices, and he now carefully examines it, and soon discovers a hole in the wood, through which the water wasflowing. With the instant perception which every child in Hollandwould have, the boy saw that the water must soon enlarge the holethrough which it was now only dropping, and that utter and generalruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the country thatmust follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb from stone tostone till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into it, was thework of a moment; and, to his delight, he finds that he has succeededin stopping the flow of the water. This was all very well for a little while, and the child thought onlyof the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and withthe night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No onecame. He shouted--he called loudly--no one answered. He resolved tostay there all night; but, alas! the cold was becoming every momentmore biting, and the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feelbenumbed, and the numbness soon extended to the hand, and thencethroughout the whole arm. The pain became still greater, still harderto bear; but still the boy moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks ashe thought of his father, of his mother, of his little bed, where hemight now be sleeping so soundly; but still the little fellow stirrednot, for he knew that did he remove the small slender finger which hehad opposed to the escape of the water, not only would he himself bedrowned, but his father, his brothers, his neighbors--nay, the wholevillage. We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentaryfailures of courage, there might have been during that long andterrible night; but certain it is, that, at day-break, he was found inthe same painful position by a clergyman returning from attendance ona death-bed, who, as he advanced, thought he heard groans, and, bending over the dyke, discovered a child seated on a stone, writhingfrom pain, and with pale face and tearful eyes. "Boy, " he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?" "I am hindering the water from running out, " was the answer, inperfect simplicity, of the child, who, during the whole night, hadbeen evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage. --Sharpe's Magazine. * * * * * I copy these verses for two reasons. They teach trust in God; and theywere written by a gentleman who, I am sure, remembers with pleasurewhen he was a scholar in the Sunday School; the request of whosesuperintendents induced me to make this miniature book. STORM AT SEA. We were crowded in the cabin; Not a soul would dare to sleep:It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep. 'Tis a fearful thing, in winter To be shattered in the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, "Cut away the mast!" So we shuddered there in silence; For the stoutest held his breath, While the hungry sea was roaring, And the breakers talked with Death. As thus we sat in darkness, Each one busy in his prayers, "We are lost!" the captain shouted, As he staggered down the stairs. But his little daughter whispered, As she took his icy hand, "Isn't God upon the ocean Just the same as on the land?" Then we kissed the little maiden, And we spoke in better cheer, And we anchored safe in harbor When the morn was shining clear. J. T. Fields. * * * * * Here are two anecdotes: one for boys, the other for girls. When youread the first, remember that all good deeds are not published, andcherish always the belief that many kind acts are done which are neverput in print to be read by everybody. KINDNESS. This word seldom begins an article in a newspaper, but "cruelty" or"murder" more often instead. It is a pleasure to record an act ofkindness; painful that we have not frequent opportunities. Yet such anact made our heart glad, filled it with a new love for our kind, onlya day or two since. A school-girl, about ten years of age, waspassing, with a smaller school-girl in her arms, whom she carried withmuch difficulty; for the weather was sultry. Other children were incompany, with books in their hands. The whole party stopped to restunder the shade of a tree. Just then, a gentleman observed the group. His attention was particularly attracted by the child, still supportedby the arm of her friend. "What's the matter, my little Miss?" heinquired, in his kind, soft tone. "She's sick, sir, " replied thefriend. "And are you taking her home?" "I'm trying, sir. " "How far offdoes she live?" "Down by the Long Bridge. " "A mile or more! and youwould carry her through the hot sun! no shade on the way either!" "Imust try, sir, " answered the school-girl. "No, you must not, " said thekind gentleman, "it would kill both of you. " A carriage passed at thismoment. A word and a waving arm caused it to draw up to the pavement. All the party entered it, and all right merry, except the sick one;but even she looked up with a faint smile, fixing her large, tendereyes on the face of the stranger. The driver had been instructed fullyas to his destination, had been paid too, and now drove away. "Poorlittle girl!" said the gentleman to himself, in a low voice. "Goodbye, sir!" said all the children, in a high tone. --Washington News. A BRAVE BOY. An interesting little boy, who could not swim, whilst skating on ourriver on New Year's Day, ran into a large air-hole. He kept himselffor a time above water: the little boys, all gathered round theopening, tried to hand him poles; but the ice continued breaking, andhe was still floating out of reach. Despair at last seized his heart, and was visible in every face around. At this moment, when, exhausted, the poor little fellow was about to sink, a brave and generous-heartedboy exclaimed, "I cannot stand it, boys!" He wheeled round, made arun, and dashed in at the risk of his own life, and seized the littleboy and swam to the edge of the ice with him: after breaking his wayto the more solid ice, he succeeded in handing him out to hiscompanions, who then assisted him out. In Rome, this act of heroismwould have insured this brave youth a civic crown. His name is AlbertHershbergar. --Charleston (Va. ) Republican. * * * * * I know a little girl who has committed this to memory. Let all littlegirls and boys who read it do the same, and they will have music worthlistening to in their own hearts. LITTLE CHILDREN, LOVE ONE ANOTHER. A little girl, with a happy look, Sat slowly reading a ponderous book, All bound with velvet and edged with gold, And its weight was more than the child could hold;Yet dearly she loved to ponder it o'er, And every day she prized it more;For it said, and she looked at her smiling mother, --It said, "Little children, love one another. " She thought it was beautiful in the book, And the lesson home to her heart she took;She walked on her way with a trusting grace, And a dove-like look in her meek young face;Which said, just as plain as words could say, "The Holy Bible I must obey:So, mamma, I'll be kind to my darling brother;For 'little children must love each other. ' I'm sorry he's naughty, and will not play;But I'll love him still, for I think the wayTo make him gentle and kind to meWill be better shown if I let him seeI strive to do what I think is right;And thus, when I kneel in prayer to-night, I will clasp my hands around my brother, And say, 'Little children, love one another. '" The little girl did as her Bible taught, And pleasant indeed was the change it wrought;For the boy looked up in glad surprise, To meet the light of her loving eyes:His heart was full, --he could not speak;But he pressed a kiss on his sister's cheek;And God looked down on that happy motherWhose "little children loved each other. " --Bath Paper. * * * * * The two next pieces ought to go together. They resemble each other, not only in their subjects, but in their beauty also. I hardly knowwhich is the most interesting. THE SISTER'S GRAVE. At Smyrna, the burial-ground of the Americans, like that of theMoslems, is removed a short distance from the town, is sprinkled withgreen trees, and is a favorite resort not only with the bereaved, butwith those whose feelings are not thus darkly overcast. I met thereone morning a little girl with a half-playful countenance, busy blueeye, and sunny locks, bearing in one hand a small cup of china, and inthe other a wreath of fresh flowers. Feeling a very natural curiosityto know what she could do with these bright things, in a place thatseemed to partake so much of sadness, I watched her light motions. Reaching a retired grave, covered with a plain marble slab, sheemptied the seed, which it appeared the cup contained, into the slightcavities which had been scooped out in the corners of the leveltablet, and laid the wreath on its pure face. "And why, " I inquired, "my sweet child, do you put the seed in those little bowls there?" "Itis to bring the birds here, " she replied with a half-wondering look:"they will light on this tree, " pointing to the cypress above, "whenthey have eaten the seed, and sing. " "To whom do they sing?" I asked:"to you or to each other?" "Oh! no, " she quickly replied, "to mysister: she sleeps here. " "But your sister is dead?" "Oh! yes, sir;but she hears the birds sing. " "Well, if she does hear the birds sing, she cannot see that wreath of flowers. " "But she knows I put it there;I told her, before they took her away from our house, I would come andsee her every morning. " "You must" I continued, "have loved thatsister very much; but you will never talk with her any more, never seeher again. " "Yes, sir, " she replied, with a brightened look, "I shallsee her always in heaven. " "But she has gone there already, I trust. ""No, she stops under this tree till they bring me here, and then weare going to heaven together. " "But she has gone already, my child:you will meet her there, I hope; but certainly she is gone, and leftyou to come afterward. " She cast to me a look of inquiringdisappointment, and the tears came to her eyes. Oh! yes, my sweet child, be it so, That, near the cypress-tree, Thy sister sees those eyes o'erflow, And fondly waits for thee;That still she hears the young birds sing, And sees the chaplet wave, Which every morn thy light hands bring, To dress her early grave;And in a brighter, purer sphere, Beyond the sunless tomb, Those virtues that have charmed us here In fadeless life shall bloom. * * * * * THE LITTLE FLOWER-GARDEN. In yonder village burying-place, With briers and weeds o'ergrown, I saw a child, with beauteous face, Sit musing all alone. Without a shoe, without a hat, Beside a new-raised mound, The little Willie pensive sat, As if to guard the ground. I asked him why he lingered thus Within that gray old wall. "Because, " said he, "it is to us The dearest place of all. " "And what, " said I, "to one so young, Can make the place so dear?""Our mother, " said the lisping tongue, -- They laid our mother here. And since they made it mother's lot, We like to call it ours:We took it for our garden-spot, And planted it with flowers. We know 'twas here that she was laid; And yet they tell us, too, She's now a happy angel made, To live where angels do. Then she will watch us from above, And smile on us, to knowThat here her little children love To make sweet flowerets grow. My sister Anna's gone to take Her supper, and will come, With quickest haste that she can make, To let me run for some. We do not leave the spot alone, For fear the birds will spyThe places where the seeds were sown, And catch them up and fly. We love to have them come and feed, And sing and flit about;Yet not where we have dropped the seed, To find and pick it out. But now the great round yellow sun Is going down the west;And soon the birds will every one Be home, and in the nest. Then we to rest shall go home too; And while we're fast asleep, Amid the darkness and the dew, Perhaps the sprouts will peep. And, when our plants have grown so high That leaves are on the stem, We'll call the pretty birdies nigh, And scatter crumbs for them. For mother loved their songs to hear, To watch them on the wing:She'll love to know they still come near Her little ones, and sing. " "Heaven shield thee, precious child!" methought, "And sister Annie too!And may your future days be fraught With blessings ever new!" Hanna F. Gould * * * * * This is a true story. A little girl received it in a letter from avery dear friend before it was printed. THE FEATHER BRUSH. So, my dear little friend, you wish for an answer to your letter, andcould not understand that the little feather brush I sent you was areply to your loving remembrance, just as if I had written one withpen and ink. But you were a kind and loving child to transfer the giftto little Julia, in your pity for her tears. I hope it soothed hertroubled heart, and dried her blue eyes; and you now shall have, instead, the story which those soft feathers were sent to tell. One evening last summer, Miss L---- came home from one of her rides, with a large basket closely covered; and what do you think itcontained? Why, a great anxious mother-hen, all tawny-colored andwhite, with thirteen downy little chickens, who were frightenedenough, and wondering where in the wide world they were. We made ahouse for them in the green meadow, of a barrel turned upside down;and they all crept under their mother's wing, and went to sleep. But, lo! a great storm came in the night, such a pouring rain, such ablowing gale, --we really feared the tiny things would be drowned! Buta kind neighbor put on his big coat, and went to their rescue. He putthem all together in the basket again, and brought it into thekitchen, where they got thoroughly warm and dry; after which, theywere taken out to the barn, where they lived a few days verycomfortably. Then one of them disappeared, we never knew where; andanother lamed herself in some way, and, notwithstanding all our care, she died. But the rest grew up, a healthy and obedient little family, always ready to eat, and so quick to run with their tiny feet, whenany one appeared at the door, that it was very funny to see them. Another day, Miss L---- brought home two large chickens; one of themwith a long neck, and a beautiful black crest upon her head, and adress of black feathers softer than velvet. Her we named Donna:sometimes we call her Bella Donna. The other was dressed in whitefeathers, some of them tipped with glossy black and brown, but many ofthem pure white. She was named Luca. They were shut together for a fewdays, until they began to feel at home; then they were set free toscratch in the barn-yard, and get acquainted with the neighbors'fowls, when we began to see how different they were in character aswell as dress. Donna holds her head very high, and pays no attentionto any other hens; runs away from us, when we invite her to dinner, nomatter how nice it is; and never will get acquainted, all we can do. But Luca we love as we should a gentle, timid little girl. Sometimes, when we open the door, there she stands patiently waiting, and looksup at us with her bright eye so pleasantly, that we must stop, if everso busy, and feed her. Occasionally we hear a gentle sound on thedoor-step, which we all know; then some one is sure to exclaim, "There's Luca, " and run to get her something nice to eat. The littlechickens, with Mater their mother, all come rushing, tapping, perching, chirping at the door, and tease and tap-tap and "yip-pyip-p" until we quite weary of them. If the door stands open, they flyup the steps, walk in, look round the room, and pick up any thing theycan find, until we send them away. The moment their tin pan appears, they are all in a flying huddle, tumble over each other, fly to thepan, to our shoulders, or anywhere, to get the first mouthful. OldMater is ravenous and impolite as the rest, except that she alwayswaits for her children to get a few mouthfuls first; but not anotherhen or chicken must come near them. Luca, patient gentle Luca, oftenstands and waits modestly behind; and, if she gets nothing, makes alittle mournful sound, --that is all. Some _flocks_ of russet, black and brown hens, crowers, and chickens, who live close by, are a great annoyance to Mater, and to all of us. They come shooting into the yard like little steam-engines, and snatchall they can of the dinner to which they were not invited; and, ifdriven away a dozen times, rush back, the first chance, to get anddevour all they can. Why, they have been into the house, and eaten apie which was set to cool, pecked at the apples, Pony's oats, and anything they could find to eat! What would you have said then? EvenMater's _children_ never did such impertinent things, hungry as theyalways are. One white chicken about their size, a naughty-lookinglittle thing, with her head always down, left her own mother, andwould come dashing in as if she belonged among them; but Mater and herlittle ones always found her out, and sent her away. One day we thought we would name the eleven chickens, as Mater couldnot name them herself; and, since then, we know them each and all, andjust how they behave. Annie and Mary are two sober-looking littlecreatures, in quakerish feathers of drab and grey. Nat is a whitecrower, with beautiful soft feathers, and a long graceful black tail. Louise has a shaded dress of grey and white, and is almost as modestand gentle as Luca. Hannah is a little bantam, with tufted head andlarge eyes, the smallest but the sprightliest of the family: shealways tumbles in amongst the rest, and gets the first taste of everything; and her mother allows her to do it. One of them, named Lise, awhite one, came in the other morning, just as we had finishedbreakfast; and, seeing many things spread out to eat, she flew up tothe back of a chair, and, perching herself there, surveyed the wholetable, and was very unwilling to get down. At length, getting a littlealarmed at our efforts to teach her better, she pounced directly downamidst the cups and dishes, putting her foot into a saucer of tea, andmaking a great commotion in her fright. Two, named George and John, are trying to learn to crow. Little Mary hears the large hens cackle, and you would laugh loud to hear her try to imitate them. They arehaving warm, new dresses made for them; so they let the summer onesblow about in the breeze for any little girls who want them, particularly kind and neat and useful little maidens, who love to dusttheir mother's books, picture frames, and flower baskets. If I can send you another brush, my little friend, you must imagineneat little Louise, Annie and Mary, gentle Luca and handsome Donna, sending their best love and kind wishes, and inviting you to come somesummer's day, to see them eat their dinner, and run about with them inthe green meadows. So, my darling, good bye. Perhaps, before you cometo see us, Luca may be a little mother, with a brood of pretty downychildren, following all around her. Kisses and love from your friend, F. E. H. (From the "Child's Friend. ") * * * * * If any child wishes to know how to be neat and orderly, here, to teachthem, is the example of LITTLE PINK. On a swinging little shelf Were some pretty little books; And I reckoned from their looks, That the darling little elf, Whose they were, Was the careful, tidy girl, With her auburn hair a-curl. In a little chest of drawers, Every thing was nice and prim, And was always kept so trim, That her childish little stores, Books or toys, In good order could be found, --Never careless thrown around. And she laid her bonnet by, When she hastened home from school; For it was her constant rule, --And she was resolved to try, School or home, How to prove the saying true, --"Order in all things you do. " When she put away her shawl, Nicely laying by her book, She had only once to look_In its place_ to find her doll Snugly there:She could shut her smiling eyes, Sure to find her pretty prize. See her books, --how clean they are! Corners not turned down, I know! There's a marker, made to showIn her lessons just how far. Dog-eared booksAre a certain sign to meThat the girl must careless be. She's as tidy as a pink! Clean and neat, and gentle too! If you take her actions through, Just the same, I know, you'll think. School or home, Tasks or play, Books or toys, Every way, Order keeps this loving girl, With her auburn hair a-curl. Friend of Youth. * * * * * What boy or girl in the Sunday School has not heard of Grace Darling?Are not these two women, whose noble deeds are told below, worthy tobe called her sister-spirits? THE HEROINE OF PILLAU. A most interesting story is told, in a late German paper, of aremarkable woman in Pillau, Prussia, whose heroism of charactercertainly rises into the gigantic, or whose intrepidity, to say theleast, appears to be unprecedented. This woman, by a truly generousdaring, is the widow of a seaman, with whom, for upwards of twentyyears, she made long voyages; and, since his death, she has devotedher life, for his memory's sake, to the noble and perilous task ofcarrying aid to the drowning. Her name is Katherine Klenfoldt. Whenever a storm arises, whether by day or night, she embarks in herboat, and quits the harbor in search of ship-wrecks. At the age offorty-seven, she has already rescued upwards of three hundredindividuals from certain death. The population of Pillau venerate heras something holy, and the seamen look upon her as theirguardian-angel. All heads are uncovered as she passes along thestreet. The Prussian and several other governments have sent her theirmedals of civil merit: the municipality of Pillau has conferred on herthe freedom of her town. She possesses an athletic figure and greatstrength, seeming to be furnished by nature in view of a capacity togo through wild scenes and high deeds. Her physiognomy is somewhatmasculine, with the expression softened by a look of gentleness andgoodness. A GENUINE PHILANTHROPIST. The island of Rona is a small and very rocky spot of land, lyingbetween the isle of Skye and the main land of Applecross, and is wellknown to mariners for the rugged and dangerous nature of the coast. There is a famous place of refuge at the north-western extremity, called the "Muckle Harbor, " of very difficult access, however; which, strange to say, is easier to be entered at night than during the day. At the extremity of this hyperborean solitude is the residence of apoor widow, whose lonely cottage is called the "light-house, " from thefact that she uniformly keeps a lamp burning in her little window atnight. By keeping this light, and the entrance to the harbor open, asmall vessel may enter with the greatest safety. During the silentwatches of the night, the widow may be seen, like "Norma of the FitfulHead, " trimming her little lamp with oil, being fearful that somemisguided and frail bark may perish through her neglect; and for thisshe receives no manner of remuneration--it is pure, unmingledphilanthropy. The poor woman's kindness does not rest even there; forshe is unhappy till the benumbed and shivering mariner comes ashore toshare her little board, and recruit himself at her cheerful andglowing fire, and she can seldom be prevailed upon to take any reward. She has saved more lives than Davy's belt, and thousands of pounds tothe under-writers. This poor creature, in her younger days, witnessedher husband struggling with the waves, and swallowed up by theremorseless billow, "in sight of home and friends who thronged tosave. " This circumstance seems to have prompted her present devotedand solitary life, in which her only enjoyment is in doing good. * * * * * Here is a pretty piece. It was written, thirty-four years ago, by aclass-mate and friend; but it sounds "as good as new. " If he shouldhappen to see it here, he will, I know, excuse the alteration of twolines, which, though quite proper for college-boys studying Latin andGreek, are not quite proper for children in a Christian Sunday School. THE RAIN-DROP AND THE POET. Come, tell me, little noisy friend, That knockest at my pane, Whence is thy being? Where dost end, Thou little drop of rain? I come from the deep, Where the dark waves sleep, And their beauty ever the sea-pearls keep; I go to the brow Of the mountain-snow, And trickle again to the depths below. But, wanderer, how didst win thy way From caverns of the sea?Did not thy sisters say thee nay, Sweet harbinger of glee? With his far-darting flame, The Day-king came, And bore me away in a cloudy frame; And I sailed in the air, Till the zephyrs bareMe hither to hear thy minstrel-prayer. And why dost change that tiny form, Thou sweetest ocean-child?Why art the snow in winter-storm, The rain in summer mild? The breath from above Of Him who is Love, In the snow and the rain-storm bids me to rove, Lest the young-budding earth Be destroyed in the birth, And Famine insult over Plenty and Mirth. And wilt thou, little one, bestow The minstrel's small request?Wilt come when cares of earth below Press on his aching breast? 'Tis the minstrel's own To kneel at the throneOf Him who reigns in the heavens alone;-- The grief of the soul 'Tis His to control, Who bids in the azure the planets roll. His couch when balmy slumber flies, In watches of the night, Wilt, soother, come, and close his eyes, And make his sorrows light? I cannot come From my sea-deep home, Whene'er I list on the earth to roam: Who rules in the form Of the ocean-stormHis will must the rain-drop, too, perform. Thy gentle prattle at the pane Makes timorous Fancy smile: Then let me hear that tender strain; Blithe charmer, stay a while. No: I cannot delay, But must quickly awayWhere the rills in the valley my coming stay; I haste to the dell Where the wild-flowers dwell, Then "Peace to thee, minstrel, " is the rain-drop's farewell. * * * * * The poetry and prose you have been reading, children, thus far wasmost of it selected, when I was invited to a beautiful celebration, with some account of which you will be glad, I am sure, to have meclose my collection. It was on CHRISTMAS EVENING AT THE PITTS-STREET CHAPEL, A very neat chapel, where Rev. Mr. Winkley, one of the Ministers atLarge, preaches. On this occasion a platform was built up in front ofthe pulpit: most of the centre pews were filled with happy-lookingboys and girls, and the rest of the room, even to the aisles, quitecrowded with grown-up men and women. After the singing of two hymns bythe children, and a prayer, a gentleman made a short address, tellinghow much better was the religion of the Jews than the religion of theHeathen. Then was spoken in a very pleasant way the following DIALOGUE--PART I. RACHEL, _a Jewess. _--REBECCA, _Sister of Rachel. _--EUDORA, _aHeathen. _--JEZEBEL, _a Messenger. _--RUTH, _friend of Rachel andRebecca. _ _Eudora. _ Rachel! _Rachel. _ Eudora! welcome, thrice welcome, to Jerusalem. _Eudora. _ Right glad am I, Rachel, to be once more by your side. Thesun has not shone so brightly, nor the birds sung so sweetly, sinceyou bade me farewell at my father's; and every moment has increased mydesire to be with you again. _Rachel. _ You have well done that you have come to me. And though Iwas not conscious of robbing your lovely home of its brightness, yetsure I am the remembrance of your true kindness and tender friendshiphas been to me ever since an increase of sunshine and song; and, nowthat you have come to me, the very temple itself shall look morebeautiful, and the songs of David catch a new inspiration. _Eudora. _ Still faithful, I see, to your temple and Jehovah; and somay it ever be! But I trust you have more respect for the gods Iworship, and will not, as of yore, pronounce them false. _Rachel. _ Sorry should I be to pain a true heart, and, most of all, that of my much-loved guest; but, still I _must_ say, the gods thatyou worship are no gods. There is but one God, and that is Jehovah. _Eudora. _ As I came near Jerusalem, I remembered your earnest words onthat subject, --as what that you ever uttered have I forgotten? Iremembered, too, how nearly out of patience I often felt with you forclaiming your god to be the only God; and, so as I drew near, I felt adesire to know him better. It being a time of worship in the temple, Iwent with a Jewish friend of mine up the hill, and entered the outercourt, called, I believe, the Court of the Gentiles. And, verily, Isaw _no_ god there. Perchance he was in the temple itself. _Rachel. _ Yes, in the holy of holies: in the farther apartment of thatbuilding which you saw rising amid all the courts, he dwells. _Eudora. _ I imagined that was his abode. But wherein differs yourworship from ours? You have a temple; so have we. You have priestsclothed in sacred robes; so have we. You have altars and sacrifices;so have we. You have an oracle and prophets; so have we. You go up tothe dwelling-place of your God to worship and offer sacrifices; so dowe. Wherein, then, do we differ? _Rachel. _ If in nothing else, Eudora, yet in this: we have but _one_temple and one God for our nation; you have many. And again, youworship the work of men's hands, --images of wood and stone, that canneither see nor feel. _Rebecca (coming forward--Jezebel approaches). _ My heart is movedwithin me; and though my sister, in her joy of seeing her friend, hasleft me standing apart, yet your voice has drawn me to you. _Eudora. _ Surely the sister of my friend shall be my sister: wouldthat I could say her God shall be my God! _Rebecca. _ Even so may it be! _Eudora. _ And my gods hers! _Rebecca. _ But that is impossible. _Eudora. _ Why? Because, as she says, we have images for gods! But thisis not so. Is Jupiter the thunderer confined to an image? or is Junoor any other deity? Have we not many images of all the gods in manyplaces, and are they not in them all? Do not our armies go forth towar, and is not Jupiter with them and Mars also? These images are but_reminders_ of the gods, as my father's statue is of him. _Rebecca. _ 'Tis true these many images and temples may not hold yourgods more than our synagogues hold Jehovah; but as great an error isyours. You worship what has no existence; your gods are creatures offancy. Your gods, too, are of various character, and not alwaysagreed. This goodly world is not the patch-work of many and differentgods, but of one designing mind, --one executing power; and that one, Jehovah. _Eudora. _ Your sister, in many hours of precious intercourse, hasalmost persuaded me to believe in but one God; but why, if there bebut one, may not that one be our Jupiter, known as the father of godsand men, as well as your Jehovah? _Jezebel_ (To Eudora). _Because he is not. _ (To Rachel and Rebecca). Why do you talk with that stupid Heathen? You might as well convince aSamaritan dog. I have waited here with a message from David since thefifth hour, and all to be contaminated with idolatrous breath. _Rachel. _ Why, Jezebel, do you not remember what the wise Solomon hassaid: "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he thatruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city;" or Moses' commandsconcerning the stranger and hospitality? _Jezebel. _ Well, prate not to me, daughter of Eliab; for I need itnot. Tell me if you have fulfilled the mission given you this day, andwhat answer I shall make. _Rachel. _ I have. Ye only need say, "It is well. " _[Jezebel departsimpatiently. ]_ (_To Eudora. _) Be not moved by our neighbor's unkindmanners. Did she love Jehovah, she would not thus do. _Eudora. _ And is Jehovah careful about _these_ things? _Rachel. _ Yes: every act is noticed by him; every heart is his desire;and herein he differs from all imaginary gods. Jupiter sits apart, andsimply _rules_ the nations. Jehovah loves the children he has created, and is careful about their least concerns. He desires their love inreturn. Your gods demand conduct and sacrifices injurious anddegrading. Jehovah's every word is for his people's prosperity. _Eudora. _ And you are like your god. Your patient doing of right inthe past comes to me; and this, with your kindness to the unfeelingand abusive Jezebel, has convinced me more, if possible, than yourarguments. Surely I see that it was such a god that I desired toworship in Jupiter. If this be found alone in your god, then does myheart move me to say, Jehovah, He is God, and there is none else. Oh!may I not be mistaken! _Rachel. _ Trust in Jehovah, and thou shalt not err. _Rebecca. _ Rejoice in Jehovah, and thou shalt be glad for ever. _Ruth (calling). _ Rachel! _Rachel. _ I come. (_To Eudora. _) Let us hasten; for we have longtarried, and many wait to welcome you. _(Singing heard. _) Hark! theyare singing one of the songs of David: let us go join them. At the close of the dialogue, the cxxxvi. Psalm was chanted; and thenanother gentleman described the erroneous notions which the Jews hadof the expected Messiah. His remarks were succeeded by DIALOGUE. --PART II. ANNA, MARTHA, SALOME, MARY, _of Jerusalem. _ MIRIAM, LEAH, _ofBethlehem. _ _Mary (coming with Salome to Martha). _ Martha, I have been seeking, and am glad that I have found you; but why do you weep? _Martha. _ We may do nothing else now, and the meeting with othersseems to be the signal for fresh floods of tears. _Salome. _ I may not ask the cause of your grief; for my own soulreplies it is the common grief, --our nation's bondage. _Martha. _ Yes, we are slaves; that only thought haunts me; the chosenpeople of Jehovah in subjection to the idolatrous Roman. _Salome. _ Where now is the might of David? where the glory of Solomon?Surely Miriam's song may be turned upon ourselves; for the enemy "hathtriumphed gloriously, " and we are laid in the dust. _Mary. _ Let us not, however, despond too much. Jehovah will not alwayschide. The Roman sway shall have an end. _Martha. _ I know that Messiah cometh, and he will restore all things;but when? _Salome. _ Yes, _when_? Long have we waited, and bitter has been ourbondage; and even our own Herod has been more cruel than our foes. _Mary. _ Nevertheless, let us hope. In the fulness of time the promisedone will come. (_Miriam and Leah approach. _) But, see! two morefriends join us. _Martha. _ Rather say, two more slaves. _Salome. _ Yes; two more to weep with us. _Miriam. _ Not so, not so, unless we weep for joy. The cloud that hasso long hung over us in blackness is beginning to break. We haveexperienced more of gladness this day than has been ours since thelast report that the Messiah had come was proved false. _Leah. _ Yes, we have heard strange things since the morning service;joyful news have we for you. _Martha. _ Another false prophet, no doubt, claiming to be Israel'sdeliverer, and proving a thousand times her foe. _Salome. _ Let us not cheat ourselves with any more fanatical dreams. _Miriam. _ No dream this; no fanatic's voice; no prophet's word, but amessage direct from Heaven. _Martha. _ A message from Heaven! _Leah. _ 'Tis even so. Listen while I tell you. At Bethlehem, lastnight, the shepherds were watching their flocks as usual; at midnightthey were startled by the sudden appearance of an angel of the Lord, and the shining round about them of an exceeding bright light; and theangel spoke to them. "Fear not, " said he, "for, behold! I bring yougood tidings of great joy, which shall be to all the people; for untoyou is born this day, in the city of David, a _Saviour_, even theMessiah. " _Martha. _ Can this be true? _Salome. _ But how shall he be known? _Anna. _ In Bethlehem, did you say? But there is no palace inBethlehem, where a prince should be born. _Leah. _ Wait a little: I have not told you all. "This, " said the angelto the shepherds, "shall be a sign to you. Ye shall find the babewrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. " And, when he hadthus said, there suddenly joined him a multitude of the heavenly host;and presently they burst forth into this song, --"Glory to God in thehighest; on earth peace and good will towards men!" And with this songthey departed. _Anna. _ This is indeed wonderful! _Salome. _ But have the shepherds seen the babe? _Martha. _ Oh! tell us that. Have they seen the babe? and are allthings as they have declared? _Miriam. _ Yes. We met them on their return. They were, with fullhearts, praising God for the new hope of a glorious deliverance givento the nation. _Leah. _ All hearts warmed as they spoke; and, catching their gladness, we come to you. _Mary. _ Then shall we indeed hope! O my people! my people Israel!shall we see you again in your former glory? _Martha. _ Surely, this news inspires my own soul. Once more shall theRoman be driven forth by the Lord of hosts; once more "shall Jehovahtriumph, and his people be free. " _Salome. _ Yes; and Messiah shall bring all nations into subjection to_us_, as we are now to the Romans. _Anna. _ Well may we wait a little longer, and bear the yoke withpatience. _Mary. _ I knew the Lord would not always chide, nor keep his anger forever. Now may we rejoice and glory in the God of our salvation. _Martha. _ Once more shall the name of _a Jew_ be somewhat more than abyword. When our King shall ride forth in his majesty, conquering andto conquer, then shall the Jews be terrible to their enemies, honoredby their friends, and known everywhere as the people of the wholeearth whom the Lord delighteth to honor. _Leah. _ Let us tarry no longer here, feasting on these good thingsalone; but away; and, in every closet and from every house-top, let usspread the good news. _Mary. _ Let us first, however, sing to Jehovah a song of triumph, andthen to our work. _Miriam. _ Even so let it be. Then arose, beautifully sung, this JEWISH SONG. Welcome day, oh, welcome day! a Saviour is born!Welcome day, oh, welcome day! no longer we mourn. Our nation, exulting O'er foes long insulting, Sings aloud, now sings aloud, --Oh, welcome this day! Lift your voice, oh, lift your voice! Jehovah is God!Lift your voice, oh, lift your voice! He has lifted the rod. With goodness unceasing, From bondage releasing, We his people will sing, --Jehovah, is God! Sound it forth, oh, sound it forth! Messias hath come!Sound it forth, oh, sound it forth! through every sad home. With power avenging, Our great wrongs revenging, He has come, he has come, Messias hath come! Joy is ours, oh, joy is ours! his sword shall defend!Joy is ours, oh, joy is ours! our foes shall now bend. While at their yoke spurning, Their insults returning, Joy is ours, --we are free, --his sword shall defend! Mrs. S. H. Winkley. Another address from a friend explained the true idea of Christ as aSaviour, to introduce DIALOGUE--PART III. EUDORA, _Heathen. _--ZACHARIAH, JOHN, RACHEL, REBECCA, SALOME, MARY, and JEZEBEL, _Jews. _ _Eudora. _ Well, Rachel, I owe you more than tongue can tell. The moreI study Moses and the prophets, the more I believe in and loveJehovah; and the more surprised am I, that, for a moment, I hesitatedin giving up the false gods of my childhood. _Rachel. _ To Jehovah be your thanks, my friend, my sister; for neverby human reasoning should we have been different from you. In loveJehovah revealed himself to us; and what we have so fully learned fromhim, we have given to you. _Eudora. _ But what think you of the prophet in the wilderness, --John Ithink they call him? _Rachel. _ He is dead. He was a bold man, and a good one, I think; butthe best should be careful how they rebuke kings. John rebuked Herod, and lost his head in consequence thereof. _Eudora. _ Well, we must all die. _Rachel. _ Not so says he whom John declared to be greater thanhimself, --Jesus of Nazareth. _Zachariah. _ If he be what many claim him, he speaks with moreauthority on that point than the Pharisees. _Eudora. _ And what do people say he is? _Zachariah. _ The Messiah. _Eudora. _ Israel's Deliverer? _Zachariah. _ Yes. _Eudora. _ Well, what says he? _John. _ That they who believe in him shall never die. _Eudora. _ Surely, no one believeth that. Or does he jest, by sayingwhat he knows they cannot receive? _Rachel. _ You have never seen him, or you would not ask that question. No one hearing him can doubt, that he, like John, would seal his wordswith his blood. _John. _ You have seen him: is he like John? _Rachel. _ In boldness very like him. In other respects they differ. John was clothed like the prophets; Jesus wears the common garb. Johndwelt in the wilderness, and on the banks of the Jordan; but Jesusfrequents the cities and villages. John was stern in manner, andabstemious in food; Jesus is neither. He is gentle and social; oftenseen at the feasts of the publicans, and associating with themultitudes. _Eudora. _ But does he, like the former kings of Israel, combinemilitary ardor with his religious enthusiasm? _Rachel. _ He seems, with all his boundless benevolence, formed tocommand; but never has he aimed to form an army, though the peoplewould at one time have declared him king. Salome promised to meet ushere at this time. I wish she were present. She can tell you more ofhim than can I. _Eudora. _ And here she is. _John. _ Welcome to our circle! and doubly so now; for we would hear ofyou concerning this Jesus, who we hoped was to be our deliverer frombondage. _Salome. _ Right glad am I to be here, and more so to speak of him; forhe hath come indeed to deliver us from bondage, --a worse, however, than _Roman_ bondage. _John. _ Are we to have a harder taskmaster than the Romans, before weare delivered? _Salome. _ No harder master than we now have. The Roman is not our onlyor worst bondage. _Rebecca. _ What talk you of so earnestly? _Salome. _ Jesus of Nazareth. _Rebecca. _ He has come, it is said, to set up a new kingdom. _Salome. _ Rather to enlarge the kingdom already flourishing in heaven. _Rebecca. _ Call it what you may, he is slow in gathering his armies. _Salome. _ He needs no army for his conquests, but an army of lovinghearts and pure spirits. _Rebecca. _ Then the nation's hope is again blasted, and we are toremain yet longer subjects of a foreign king. _Salome. _ Not so. This is the true Messiah: he who joins his kingdomshall be free indeed. _Rebecca. _ But what freedom can there be greater than from Romanbondage? _Eudora. _ Unless it be a deliverance, such as mine, from idolatry andsuperstition. Methinks there is no liberty to be compared with that;and, having that, slavery loses its power. _Jezebel. _ Or deliverance, such as mine, from an unholy temper. Surely, Eudora, mine is the greater deliverance; for what is truthwithout goodness? You were delivered from _error_; I from _sin. _ Oh!since I have been from place to place with the Son of God, andlistened to his gracious words, I have forgotten to be angry; and, Itrust, my growing love for his Father and mine will cleanse me fromall sin! _Mary. _ I, too, have felt his power, and am seeking to join hiskingdom. I first took him for a second David, who should glorify hispeople; then, when no army gathered around him, for a prophet sent toreform the nation. But now I believe him to be greater thaneither, --even the Son of God, and begin to think that he purposes tobless, not Jews alone, but Gentiles; not Palestine, but the world. _Rebecca. _ Why should we think him greater than the prophets? why, theSon of Jehovah? Are the reports about his working miracles to bereceived as true? _Salome. _ Certainly; for I have witnessed them. I have, at his mereword or touch, _seen_ the leper cleansed; the blind receive sight; thelame walk; and, that last wonderful work, Lazarus of Bethany raisedfrom the dead. _Rebecca. _ And what think you of all this? _Salome. _ Just what one of our rulers declared to him the other night, "No man can do these miracles and not come from God, and have God withhim. " When the Pharisees or the Scribes tell me I am immortal, Iquestion; but when he, thus aided by Jehovah, asserts the truth, it isenough. _Rebecca (to Mary). _ And did this move you also? _Mary. _ How could I doubt any doctrine of his, after witnessing theseworks? _Jezebel. _ But this is not all. He moved our hearts to love, as wellas our minds to believe. With all my ill temper in the past, I haveever taken an interest in children. Judge ye, then, of the effectproduced upon me, the first time I saw him, by this circumstance. Iwas walking along, filled with my usual impatience, when I suddenlysaw Jesus at a distance, surrounded by a crowd, many of whom wereScribes and Pharisees. He had pleased the multitude, and excited eventhe admiration of his enemies; when, as I came nigh, I saw severalpersons endeavoring to get nearer to him with their children. Theywere rebuked even by his disciples; but Jesus, seeing the act, askedfor the children, took them in his arms, and blessed them. From thatmoment have I loved and followed him. _Mary. _ Then came his kind, yet firm rebuke of sin; his description ofthose who were prepared to join his kingdom; his promise to receivethe worst who would become like himself; his assurance that all whocontinued faithful to the end of this life should in the next bejoined to his Father's family; and, above all, the representation ofJehovah as our Father, who would give us eternal joy. Oh! what changehave his glorious words wrought in us! _Rebecca. _ Why do you say "changed _us_"? _Jezebel_ needed to bechanged, but not _you. _ _Mary. _ Such change as he demanded I needed. Oh! how much! 'Tis true, in _form_ I have served the God of my fathers. I have endeavored tokeep unbroken the law; but that was not sufficient. To be like him, the _heart_ must burn with that love to his Father, that your delightwill be even to be crucified in his service. _Salome. _ Yes; as Mary says, he demands that love which not only poursitself forth to friends, but to strangers, and with diligence seeksthe happiness even of our bitterest foes. _Zachariah. _ O that I might have such a spirit, and be one of such asociety! _Mary. _ And so you may. _John. _ And I! _Rebecca. _ And I! _Salome. _ Yes; all, _all_ who are weary of sin, and heavy laden withcares, --all may come, and none will be cast forth. _John. _ This is freedom indeed. _Rachel. _ And greatness indeed. _Rebecca. _ Such a people must be the chosen of the Lord. _Eudora. _ No longer Jew and Gentile, but one in Jesus. _Salome. _ Is not this a Saviour for Israel? Oh! my heart burns withinme for joy; for all people shall partake of this salvation. _Rachel. _ Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace and good-will tomen! _Mary. _ The angel's song; and why should not we in a song praise Godthat he hath visited and redeemed his people? _Rebecca. _ And may God make us true to this Saviour to the last! Next came an appropriate hymn; after which the pastor reviewed andexplained the meaning of the different exercises of the evening, andwhat they were intended to teach about the origin and truth andblessedness of Christianity. A prayer was offered, and the servicesclosed with that noble hymn, beginning "All hail the power of Jesus'name, " sung to that noble old tune, "Coronation. " I thought the Dialogues would please you, and asked leave to printthem here. If there is any thing in the Dialogues, or in any of the pieces inthis little book, you cannot understand, you must ask for anexplanation from your parents or teachers, who will be glad to answeryour questions. And now, if these "GEMS" give you as much pleasure asthe "Christmas Evening at the Pitts-street Chapel" gave those who werepresent, I think, though "gathered in haste, " you will say they areworth keeping, and looking at often. * * * * *