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died by violence, but peacefully upon his bed, most probably in Ephesus, amidst his “ little children." The churches found it difficult to believe that he had really passed away; the saying had gone abroad among them that he should not die, but should continue until the appearing of the Lord; and by-and-by the legend was framed that he was not really dead but only sleeping in his grave. As has been said
, it was not wholly an error ; for“ he lives and will ever live by his writings, and the future belongs to him even more than the past.”
HOW HE WAS SAVED. I had been taking a long walk. The had been grazing in a distant corner, day was inspiring, and I walked had noticed the commotion, and was briskly, enjoying the crisp autumn looking on from afar, with ears air and the blustering wind. The pricked up, all on the alert. Pre. route home led me through a retired sently, one of the three seemed to road, and past the little rural ceme- think of him, and turning, galloped tery, whose white stones stood up a few paces, then paused, and uttered ghostly among tall forest trees. a loud whinny. The grey colt in
; Adjoining the cemetery was stantly tossed up his heels, and broad pasture, where four young thundered up the field. horses were pastured. I had often I mounted the fence to get, noticed them for their fine points, possible, a view of the mystery, but and evident enjoyment of their could see nothing whatever. pleasant pasture and freedom. But All of a sudden, the four colts something struck me as unusual in started away as if panic-stricken, their behaviour as I was hastening by and fled swiftly with flying tails and that day, and I presently stopped to manes, while the bright bay, quite watch them.
overcome by excitement, threw himIn the part of the field most re- self down, and rolled over and over, mote from the road, one colt-a kicking furiously. bright bay-stood in an excited
a noble picture-those attitude, with his neck stretched beautiful creatures in their wild, over the fence which separated the spirited attitudes-and I watched it pasture from the cemetery lands, with intense delight. The sun looking at something on the other set, and the sky was side. Suddenly he started away, brilliant crimson, as a and galloped furiously to another to the scene. part of the field, where two of his After their first flight, the colts companions were quietly nibbling did not seem inclined to return to the grass. After a moment of ex- their post of observation, and I got cited communication of some sort, down from mine, to continue my all three galloped back to the fence,
homeward way. and, standing in a row, seemed to But somehow, I felt a vague contemplate the mysterious some- comfort and uneasiness, which spoiled thing on the other side.
my pleasure in the crimson glow Soon, as if frightened, they scam
the sky, and which seemed to take pered off a short distance; then, the sparkle out of the air. neighingand curvetting, they trotted "Nonsense! nonsense!” į said
aloud. "I shan't get home till dark By this time the fourth horse, who
,"_and I walked on, very deter
had glowing in background
nined not to be hindered. But with over it, and in a moment very step. the vague disquiet stood breathless and agonized be side ncreased, till at last I turned round a little motionless mass of white with no little patient feeling. “I which lay among the blackberry vines am a goose, I suppose, but I can't and withered grass. I stooped, and help it," I said, and quickening my oh, I knew, before I raised the inpace, I soon found myself among sensible little figure, that it was the solemn shadows of the Quiet Benny_his sweet face and hands as City, I was not afraid, but the white as his dress, except where on place seemed very “l
some." As the in skin were marks of blood. I made my way as fast as I was able I took him in my arms and struggled through the tall grass, I stumbled, to my feet, bewildered and blinded and nearly fell over something which
with tears. had got wedged between two stones, I could never retrace my steps and as I turned to see what it was over the rough way by which I which had so nearly overthrown me,
had come. I knew the smoothest something gleamed in the fading way lay through the pasture. How light.
I got over the fence with my preI picked it up, and when I saw
cious burden in my arms I never what it I cried out, for it was a knew, but I was conscious that the toy sword I had given my little four colts watched me all the time, nephew on his birthday, a few days I managed to reach the wateringago. I had seen the little fellow trough, which was fed from the hills playing with it in the garden when beyond, and there I washed the I left home to take this
stains from the still face, and kissed The
vague disquiet became a de- and chafed the cold hands, with a finite fear, and I called, with beating heart so full of anguish, that the few heart, "Benny! Benny! are you moments before Benny opened his here?" No answer came but the
eyes seemed like hours. mocking echoes, and I ran forward, “Me want mamma,” he lisped, with searching among the tall weeds and lips quivering piteously. "Aunty, underbush, calling repeatedly in my take Benny home.”
I took him firmly in my arms, but At length the colts, who had been he was a sturdy little fellow, and watching me from a distance, trotted the weight was simply too much for up, andstood regarding me curiously, Now that the strength given While I begged them, as if they by the excitement of terror for his could understand, to show me where life was
over, I was weak as a
child. Then came one of the marvellous What was I to do? The twilight parts of my story! The beautiful was fast fading, and who could tell bay trotted off a little distance, then
the consequences, if the exhausted turned and looked back with a low child should be exposed to the chill whinny. In my eagerness to follow and damp of the approaching even. Istumbled over rock and bramble,
ing? I struggled on with my dear while the colt, on the other side of burden pressed close to my breast, the fence, trotted on ahead. He till I reached the lower end of the stopped, and as before, stretched his field, the colts following quietly. neck over the fence for a moment;
There I paused, and gazed desperthen dashed away, shaking his mane, ately down the long grassy road,
hours. Then I looked at the four Between me and the spot where dumb friends who had guided me he stood was a rail fence, but I got
so wonderfully to rescue the lost one.
with quivering nostrils.
Again I spoke to the bright bay, as | incessantly, telling all about t if he had been a human friend, and adventure, and dilating eloquent could appreciate my sore distress. on the behaviour of the bay. I laid my hand on his glossy neck, It seemed, afterward, that Ben and told him I was almost wild with had disappeared with me, as anxiety for the little life he had i supposed, and no anxiety was f saved, and that he must help me get until it became so late and cold. ] the child home as soon as possible, had “t'ied to find auntie,” Beni or he might die.
explained, as he lay pale and langu Then I gently tested him by rais | in his mother's lap, “and he ha ing Benny to his back; and, how dot lost, and falled into the fistles. wonderful to tell! the dumb beast, How he had wandered so far astra whereon had never man sat, stood was a matter for speculation in th quiet as a lamb, to receive for his first family, till in time other thing burden the little wounded child. even more incomprehensible ha
I contrived to wrap Benny in my pened, which threw this great marv shawl, and held the ends in a way into the shade. The futtering to support him. Then I led the the white dress and Benny's moai colt out into the road, and closed the must have been the cause of th gate. The three mates trotted along excitement among the colts; and on the other side, whinnying loudly shudder, even now, to imagine th when the dividing fence cut off their consequences, had I not yielded t progress.
the strange sense of danger, and t And so we made our weary way that mysterious, merciful feeling homeward. I can never tell how | which forced me to go back. long it was before we met an anxious Benny's father purchased the group coming to seek us. I did bright bay, and he became Benny's not faint; indeed, I walked firmly with special property, and the pet of th the rest; but from the time I heard whole household. my sister's voice, crying, “ O Corry! To-day Benny and the nobl Corry! have you seen Benny?” I horse are most enthusiastic friend cannot remember anything I said or and playmates, and Hero and his did, though they told me I talked | master are both twelve years old.
THE GARMENT OF HUMILITY.
“ Be clothed with humility.”—1 Pet. v. 5. No garment sits so well upon human nature, and no ornament so gracefully conceals its deformity, as humility. Yet there is no dres which we find it more difficult to assume. Like Saul's armour upon David it is too great and unwieldy for us, and, ruffled and irritated, we speedily cast it away. There is something in our imperfect and unsanctified nature which revolts at the very idea of submission, con descension, and inferiority. Brought down by our own guilt to the lowest position of degradation and weakness, we vainly seek to console and flatter ourselves by personal pride and self-exaltation. Closing our eyes and ears to the manifest signs of our frailty and imperfection, we glory in the dignity and superiority of our nature, forgetting that our
ry nature is depraved by sin and folly. Walking erect, we turn ir eyes upwards to the skies, and realize not that we are nevertheless anding upon the earth. Nor is this by any means a mere isolated iling. It pertains not to any nation or class of people in particular, ut is more or less universal. It is a striking fact that the whole of he Latin language afforded not so much as a name for humility,—the umilitas from which we derive it having amongst the Romans a totally lifferent signification. And even the flexible Greek could find no term o express it till the apostles coined one, and introduced it into the original tongue of the New Testament. Thus it is evident that lumility is pre-eminently a Christian grace; the word having no place n other vocabularies, and the virtue itself finding no motive sufficiently strong to urge to its exercise, but that which comes through the revelation of the Divine condescension. In contemplating this subject let us consider
I.—WHAT IS MEANT BY BEING CLOTHED WITH HUMILITY. That there is such a thing as mock or false humility we need not stay to prove. The words are in everybody's mouth continually. And we see people assuming a humility they do not possess, and speaking of themselves in a lowly manner when their real object is self-exaltation. tended assumptions of lowliness are altogether opposed to the true spirit of humility. The word as used by the apostle signifies, not merely a low estimate of ourselves and a corresponding lowliness of deportment and expression, but it especially means the thinking lowlily of ourselves because we are so, and feel ourselves to be so; thinking truly, and because truly, therefore lowlily, of ourselves.” To cultivate this grace we need only contemplate ourselves as we really are, examine our true condition, look at ourselves in the mirror of truth and righteousness, and we shall come away humbled to the dust.
When we put ourselves side by side with our fellow-men, and consider in how many respects we are excelled by our neighbours, we can scarcely find room for pride. If, however, we turn our thoughts upward, and look to God, and reflect upon His works and ways, we cannot fail to be conscious of our own littleness. As we look abroad upon the vast expanse of creation, and think of the mighty worlds which revolve around us and shine above us, and as we behold the wonders and beauties of the globe on which we dwell, the words of the psalmist rise spontaneously
thoughts, “When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained ; what is man, that thou art mindful of him ? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him ?
And as the Most High comes before our minds and appeals to our souls in all the dignity and perfection of His moral and spiritual being, we are struck dumb with astonishment, and can only exclaim like Job, Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer Thee ?” Nothing is more calculated to inspire us with humility than a consciousness of the
and a view of the Divine glory. To see God as He is, and ourselves as we are, may well make us lowly, as we contrast our own insignificance, weakness, and guilt, with His greatness, power, and
perfection. Such has always been the result when God has approach His people. Elijah wrapped his face in his mantle when the Lo spake. Isaiah, seeing a vision of the Divine glory, exclaimed, “ Woe me! for I am undone ; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, t Lord of hosts." And the apostle Peter, as he became convinced of tl mighty power of Jesus, said to Him,“ Depart from me ; for I am sinful man, O Lord.”
The command to be clothed with humility suggests that our true ornament is a humble estimate of ourselves. The idea is that of a outer garment gathered around and fastened with some ornamenta fastening. It must be so closely connected with us that nothing sha be able to tear it away; and yet so conspicuous as to be the first objed of attraction. It must be as the outer garment which covers all th rest, and like the girdle which binds all together. We must rend ourselves at once conspicuous and attractive by hiding ourselves. “Z clothed with humility.”
II.--SOME ADVANTAGES TO BE SECURED BY BEING HUMBLE. God commandments have nothing arbitrary about them. Whatever I ordains is for our good. If He bids us to serve, love, and obey Him it is because to do so will promote our highest welfare. If we are tol to walk in wisdom's ways, we are assured that her ways are ways o pleasantness and all her paths are peace. And if we are required to be humble, it is because, being our true and appropriate position it will conduce to our purest happiness and greatest well-being.
There are many respects in which it is to our advantage to b humble.
1. Humility is the great qualification for the reception of knowledge an for entrance into the kingdom of heaven. A proud man will neither lear anything from his neighbour nor receive anything from his God. If : man thinks he knows enough already upon any given subject, he is no likely to learn much more: and if a man is satisfied with the position which he now holds, it is scarcely possible that he will seek a better The very self-satisfaction which leads him to say to himself, “Soud thou hast much goods laid up in store for many years ; take thine ease, car drink, and be merry," is enough to fix his final doom.
Humility opens the pathway to all knowledge. By it our mind become docile so that they are prepared to receive every new form truth. And if we cherish this spirit, may we not learn from all aroun us? He must be very foolish who cannot teach us something, or w must be more foolish if from all with whom we come in contact cannot learn something. Humility also prepares for the reception the divine kingdom into the heart. Our ideas of God and of ou relationship to him are all founded on false views of Him and of our selves. If, however, we be humble and teachable, he will come into ou hearts and abide there, teaching us the doctrine of the kingdom breaking down our spirit of rebellion, and removing the scales