MARCUS STRATFORD'S CHARGE. now. Do you know Marcus well, Muriel? Do you think it will make things nicer having him back?" "I know him in one way very well, and in one way very little," answered Muriel smiling. "I can remember him as long as I can remember anything. He seemed a big boy when I was little, and he used to be very good to me always, take me nutting and blackberrying with him, and bring me home on his back when I was tired; and he used to row me about in his boat on your lake and get me water-lilies. Marcus was quite my hero and big playfellow all the time I was little. But afterwards when he grew up and went to Eton and Oxford, and then abroad, I saw less and less of him. Often in vacation time he had his own friends with him, and did not come very much here, and for three years he has been away altogether, and it seems as if he might be very much changed in so long a time. But we all of us always liked him, and he is quite an old friend here. I think people will be pleased to think that he is coming home." "I am," said Roy; "I think it will be jolly! The Hermitage is just a little bit dull sometimes. It will wake it up to have the master at home. Then I shan't be quite so much tied when mother has some one else to keep her company. I do want to get away sometimes, and see a little more of life." "I wonder if you will like it when you do?" said Muriel with a grave smile. "But, Roy, ought you not to be going home? Your mother will be wondering what has become of you. It is long past five.' "Why, so it is! Well, good-bye; I suppose I must be going now," and Roy bounded off with the swift, elastic step of a young deer, whilst Muriel was left alone with little Lilias, the other brothers and sisters having wandered away to their favourite haunts farther afield. Mr. Kynaston was a retired medical man, who had been obliged to give up practice in middle life on account of ill-health. He had been glad then to augment his somewhat slender means by taking pupils, of whom Roy Edington was one; and when, a year or two back, a substantial legacy had enabled him to purchase the property he had hitherto rented and dispense with resident pupils, he had still continued to let Roy share the studies of his sons, which he continued from choice to direct himself. Between the families of Coombe Drayton and the Hermitage a very close intimacy existed, and the obviously failing health of Mrs. Stratford occasioned very serious anxiety and sorrow in the minds of those who were aware of it. When Mrs. Kynaston came upon her daughter wrapped in a brown study by herself in the garden, she was not surprised at the reason alleged for her grave looks. "I was thinking about Mrs. Stratford, and her wish for Marcus to come home. Do you think she is going to die?" "I fear, my love, that her days on earth are numbered." "I do not think Roy can know." "No; he is young, and he is too much with 3 her to mark the change that is passing upon her gradually. Poor boy! It will be a great blow to him." "I think it will be a blow to us all," said Muriel, a look of awe stealing over her face. "Nobody I have known very well has ever died— Mr. Stratford I hardly ever saw for two years before his death, and I was much younger thenand it all seems so sad and strange. Mother, dear, is it wrong to feel so? For Christians, I mean? In one way death doesn't seem sad, in the abstract you know, and when we think of what comes after. But when I think of any one I really know and love, and fancy their having to say good-bye to all the familiar things, and our sweet beautiful world, the birds and the flowers, and the faces they have loved-then it all seems so sad, and I sometimes wonder if it is wrong to feel so." 1 "Not wrong, I think, my love. It is a natural feeling, and one that belongs to our nature. Change and separation must seem sad to us of necessity, and death speaks of both; but the comfort lies in knowing that the separation is but brief, and that, in the world where our loved ones have gone, we shall some day in God's mercy join them, where there will be no partings any more." "And all will be more beautiful than this," added Muriel, looking round at the still loveliness of the peaceful evening. "I wonder if Roy will feel that-if it will help to comfort him?" "I trust so, my love. Dear Roy has been carefully taught by a tender, loving mother." 66 "Yes, I know he has," answered Muriel; adding after a pause during which her face had grown strangely thoughtful, but, mother, there are some things that I do not think any one can teach us. We must feel them for ourselves." MEANTIME Roy Edington was racing homewards, light of heart and merry of aspect, towards the grey old house upon the wooded hill-side known by the name of the Hermitage. He remembered no other home than that quaint, old-fashioned house, with its irregular front, its low elevation, and lichen-covered walls and roofs. He had been brought there as a tiny boy when his mother married again, and of the life that had gone before he retained not the dimmest recollection. He had been very happy in this quiet retreat with his mother for his constant companion, and 4 pleasant friends and comrades within easy reach. His step-brother Marcus, eight years his senior, had always been very good to him, "just like a real brother," as he sometimes said, and Mr. Stratford had been "father" to the child (who only learned by degrees that such was not his real relationship) as long as he lived. Roy had a peculiarly bright, winning disposition and a sunny temperament that made petting and love come to him as a sort of right. He had once been addicted to sudden gusts of passion when his will was crossed, but he had appeared to grow out of these as years passed by, and to be wholly loving and loveable. He certainly had few ungratified wishes, for his demands were never unreasonable, and in the easy affluence of his home he could obtain almost as a matter of course every indulgence he really cared for. His wish to follow Marcus to public school had been quickly quenched in the pleasure of sharing the studies of his friends and playfellows at Coombe Drayton: and although he had many vague yearnings after freedom and adventure and world-wide wanderings, yet these dreams had never yet taken definite shape, or prompted flow him to crave any radical change in the of events. eyes easy After being a child and a mere boy somewhat long, he seemed hovering upon the verge of a stage of more rapid development, and his mother's often rested earnestly upon him as he expounded to her some of his dawning hopes and theories, and she watched with trembling anxiety lest she should find some flaw in the character of her boy, which hitherto seemed to display such brightness and promise. But apprehensive as her anxious love made her, she had not seen in him, so far, one sign to trouble her seriously as to his future. He was bright and loving and frank and truthful as heart could wish. He loved her with his whole heart and gave her his entire confidence. What could have been more tender and loving than his greeting to-day, after his absence during study hours, spoken between two or three boyish kisses? 66 I Am I late, little mother? I am so sorry. Now I will stayed to tell Muriel about Marcus. You make the tea; you lie still where you are. are better, are you not, for this nice hot day? When Marcus comes, you will be quite strong. I want you so much to ride with me again. There are such lots of things I want to show you, in places where the carriage can't come; and either. then don't care much for driving now, you dull; but very To be sure, a brougham is very soon it will be summer, and then we shall Marcus will have you quite well and strong. take all the things that tire and bother you, and you will have nothing to do but amuse yourself, and come about with me." Mrs. Stratford's eyes had taken rather a wistful look as the boy rattled on in this unconscious fashion of the future and what it held. To anyene not altogether inexperienced, that sweet, pale, wasted face, those hollow brilliant eyes, and the hectic flush upon the waxen cheek told a tale that could not be mistaken or contradicted. But Roy had watched this gradual fading without in the least knowing what it meant, and although he had been anxious sometimes about his mother in the winter months, now that the March winds were safely over, and April had come in hot and bright, he was quite happy, and was fully convinced that she was on the high road to complete recovery. How often it is that the nearest and dearest are least aware of what is really coming upon those they love the best! now or But Mrs. Stratford said nothing to the boy of the trouble that she well knew was even overshadowing him. She had tried once twice to break to him the coming change, for quiet, which she herself was prepared, with Christian resignation; but, somehow, she had never managed to make him understand the drift of her words, and latterly she had made no further attempts to open his eyes. Everything Upon seemed to wait till Marcus should return. him she leaned in her weakness and helplessness, as upon a tower of strength. She listened day by day to Roy's glad anticipations of his brother's return, and joined in his eager speculations as to what Marcus would think and do, and say, under all sorts of circumstances; what horses he would ride; whether he would and autumn came, want hunters when the whether he would preserve more rigorously, and have shooting parties in the season. I've "For you know, mother, we have been just a little bit dead-alive and dull all these years. been rather too young to look after guests, and you've not been strong; but we shall change He's very rich, I all that when Marcus comes. know, everybody says so, and he will be able to I have been very do things in proper style. happy, of course, all this time; but I do begin to want to see a little of life now." The mother would look anxious as she heard words like these, yet she did not check the boy's After all, was it not natural eager flow of talk. Did not every young that he should feel so? thing long for a wider field of action, when the strength of coming manhood began to overpower the shrinking timidity of childhood? Roy took infinite pride and pleasure in seeing his brother's rooms put ready for him, in choosing a new carpet for the study, and in helping the footman to burnish the barrels of the guns in the rack, and the spurs, and the tops of the ridingwhips hanging against the wall. He wondered what his tastes would be in books and pictures, and made himself very busy, and happy, and tiresome in instituting fresh alterations every day in the arrangements of furniture and ornaments; but by the time the all-important day arrived, he really had contrived to get everything to his satisfaction, and when the carriage came round which was to take him to the station to meet Marcus he was in a state of the most joyous anticipation and delight. It was three years since his brother had gone away; Roy wondered, as he stood upon the platform watching the train come in, if he would have changed very much in that time. He used to be very tall, but slightly built, and he was very good-looking, with dark hair and grey eyes. MARCUS STRATFORD'S CHARGE. It was not likely that three years had made much difference, and yet when the train stopped, and two or three passengers alighted, no face for the moment struck the boy as belonging to Marcus. "Roy!" said a voice just behind; a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, turning quickly, Roy found himself face to face with his brother. "Why, I never saw you get out!" he cried. I was close to the engine. I saw you as we came in. You are not much changed, Roy, only you have grown out of all knowledge. Yes, that is my luggage; it is all right. You have got the carriage waiting? How is your mother?" "Oh, better to-day-awfully pleased at getting you back; all the place is more or less excited about it. I'm so jolly glad you really are here at last! It'll be twice the fun now you are at home again!" Roy looked up with his frank, gay smile to meet a somewhat penetrating glance from his brother's keen grey eyes. He wondered that Marcus should look quite so grave; but he was proud of his good looks and commanding presence, and thought it became him to be somewhat stern and reserved. He studied him as he sat opposite to him in the carriage, chatting in easy, unembarrassed fashion, and calling attention to any changes that had taken place during his absence, and came to the conclusion that if Marcus had changed it had been for the better. His figure had broadened and attained more dignity and grace of proportion by having lost. the reedy slimness of his earlier years; and the face had changed in somewhat similar fashion. 5 There were the same handsome regular features, and well opened, resolute eyes, but the expression had grown more manly and self-reliant, and there was a calm look of power and dignity and selfrestraint about the lines of the mouth, as well as a penetrating keenness in the glance of the eyes, that was far more striking than any mere physical beauty. The face was pale, with a clear, olive tint, and a good deal tanned by exposure to the weather. The hair was dark brown with a glossy wave in it, and a drooping moustache veiled a little the somewhat stern lines of the mouth. Roy felt an increasing respect and admiration for his brother as he studied his face, and wondered a little what made him so grave and silent. "I'm sure he's no end of a good fellow; I shall like him awfully," he said to himself; "but I believe he could be a regular tyrant if once one got across him! No fear of that for me, though!" It was with great pride and pleasure that he watched the sensation produced in the village and the Hermitage grounds as the carriage rolled on bringing the young master home. Marcus returned the salutation of the people with grave courtesy, but he hardly spoke all the way home. "Mother, mother, here he is; I've brought him home to you!" cried Roy, opening the door and ushering his brother into the drawing-room where his mother was anxiously awaiting them; but next moment the boy withdrew, a little shadow of perplexity upon his face. "Why, I never knew she cared for Marcus quite so much. She could hardly look at him or speak to him for crying!" A NEW YEAR'S WORD OF CHEER. BY THE REV. J. MONRO GIBSON, D.D. "Let us lift up our heart."-Lam. iii. 41. "Lift up the hands that hang down."-Heb. xii. 12. EPRESSION, depression, depression!" How sadly familiar the word has been for many years. It is not an unfamiliar word at any time; but lately it almost seems as if it had come, not to visit, but to stay. The depression in agriculture and commerce has been so long continued, that it is almost a weariness to speak of it. And though we may take a hopeful view of the outlook, with the expectation that the clouds may roll away, and the sun appear, there still remain burdens sufficient to weigh heavily on those who are thoughtful enough to vex themselves with "the riddle of this painful earth." We may think that the new "Lockesley Hall" gives quite too dark a picture of the times; but it cannot be denied that the nineteenth-century progress has not fulfilled the expectations of its enthusiastic votaries of sixty years ago. Steam and electricity have accomplished all, and even more than all, that was expected of them as physical agencies; but is life so very much nobler than it was? Is it so much easier to make a living? Is the living so very much better when it is made? Is the sum of human happiness so much the greater? or of human misery so much the less? Now that Nature does so very much of man's work, and at so high a rate of speed, is man's labour so much the lighter? Is there more leisure to read, to think, to enjoy? Of what great advantage is it to get such a wondrously energetic servant as steam, ready to do anything, everything, for us, in the shortest time, in the most efficient manner, on the largest scale, if the master has only to work all the harder? How many business men are there who find it the most enjoyable thing in life to get out of hearing of the engine's shriek, out 6 of reach of the telegraph wires! Does not this suggest the question, which is the master and which the servant; whether man is lord of steam, or steam the tyrant of man? It is all very well for men of leisure to sing the praises of this age of progress; it is rather a pleasant thing to sit in a quiet window and see excited crowds rushing past in all directions; but ask those who are in the midst of the press, who have to struggle daily to hold their own, who have to confess that year by year competition gets keener, and there must be closer watching, and faster, and at the same time more cautious driving, even to keep abreast of others-ask these, and they will tell you that even nineteenthcentury progress at the best is no great gospel, something quite other than good tidings of great joy to all mankind. They will tell you that if they had nothing better to lift them up, they would have more to tell of weights than of wings. There is still as erst the burden and heat of the day, only the burden gets heavier, and the heat more oppressive as the famous century draws near its end. Nature brings her compensations, of course. There is something exhilarating in the ceaseless activity. There is no time to mope or be dull. Then, the delights of home are all the sweeter by contrast with the eagerness and hurry of the market and street. And if we had been so constituted that our horizon was bounded by the day, and our outlook by the walls of our places of business and our places of residence, it would be quite enough as a perennial spring of satisfaction that we should be getting on in business and happy at home. But, thank God, we are not so constituted. A wider outlook has been given to us, and a larger sympathy. We have minds that We have hearts that beat look before and after. for others as well as for ourselves; and we cannot shut our eyes to the sorrows around us or the And therefore we need some prospects before us. loftier cheer than comes from the thought that whatever others may fear, we at least are comfortable; that the present moment is bright enough, whatever of darkness the future may bring. If life is harder and more exacting than it was, we desire the more ardently to know what is to become of it all. In what is this toil and press and eager activity to end? I may lift up my hands for a while for the mere pleasure of doing it, and the thrill of satisfaction which a kind Creator has associated with energetic use of my powers; but as year after year passes on I feel more and more inclined to press the question, what is it all for? I may lift up my heart from the purgatory of the street to my paradise of a home; but when one by one the angels of my paradise fly away, whither then shall I lift up my heart? While I have been lifting up hands and heart, I have been keeping my head down, and shutting my eyes. If that is all the cheer I get, I can enjoy it only when I forbid myself to think. 66 It was the fashion some time ago to seek refuge There is far justice, there is far less of this now. less disposition to shirk the dark and disagreeable in human life, far more honesty in facing the Hence the tone of actual and the inevitable. sadness which pervades the writings of those who have no higher cheer. They feel that they cannot lift up the head, and so they scarcely try it with the heart, while it is only because they cannot help it, that they still continue to lift up the hands. Increase of knowledge has proved increase of sorrow. It may be said that there is an element of hope in the thought of evolution; but, if there be, it works so slowly, puts its golden age so many millions of years after we shall all be dead, that it does not quicken the heart-beat much, or infuse much eagerness into the plodding labours of man's daily life. Far be it from us to despise the encouragement which comes to the thoughtful mind from the evidence of upward development which our students of nature discover in her slowly unfolding processes; only it is a little too vague and far-away to do for a new year's word of cheer. Perhaps it might do for the opening of a millennium; but we want something a little more suitable to our small stature and short span of life, and the brief, but to each of us most important, period of time which we are entering now. Let us betake ourselves to our Bibles, then, and see if we can get nothing better. And I question if there is any feature in the Bible more outstanding than its constant call to cheerAnd this without any fulness and courage. blinking of the dark things of human life and more. The heart first: "Let us lift up our heart to God in the heavens." The reason of this is that "out of the heart are the issues of life." God's message to each of us is, "My son, give me thine heart." And when once the heart is opened to the Divine Spirit, life springs up in it, life which responds to the call of God, and, unrestrained by the law of gravitation which keeps all dead things down, grows upward and heavenward as There are those the days and the years pass on. who think they must begin with the head; they must by searching find out God; they must by some grand exercise of their powerful reason get to know and comprehend Him. The result is, they cannot find Him at all. Some people wonder A NEW YEAR'S WORD OF CHEER. that these things should be hid from the wise and prudent and revealed unto babes; they wonder that that great philosopher towering above his fellows should not have come within reach of God, when this little child or this plain unlettered man feels His presence in his heart. Why should men wonder?" I know a mount, the gracious sun perceives The great philosopher is the mountain rearing its head high above its fellows, and quite out of sight of the little flowers that bloom around its base. But though it is high enough to catch all the sunlight, it is "vainly favoured"; there is "no change of its large calm front of snow." But the little flower, so small as to attract no notice to itself, thrills at every touch of the sun, lifts its fair face up to the eye of day, catches the colours of the spectrum and weaves them into the tissues of its own substance-and why? Because there is life at the root of it-a life which, tiny as it is, is set in clearest relation to the great throbbing universe-heart of the sun. Look at that stately tree. How has it managed to lift its head so high? It once was a little seed lying on the ground. Look at it now. How has it all happened? It has all come of the upstriving life at the heart of it. In obedience to the law of gravitation it dropped upon the ground, but it had no mind to stay there. God bade it rise, and it rose and grew, and it has been growing ever since into a larger and a fuller life. Look at the great stone in the stream beside it. When the tree was at its smallest, the stone was at its largest. It lies yet where it lay, slowly wasting away by the action of the very same water which is bringing life and refreshment to the other. There is no life at the heart of that stone, nothing to answer to the heavenward summons of the sun. Oh yes, the sun beats on it every day, and the rain falls on it, and the winds breathe over it, and the waters lave it; but these all waste it, only waste it, while they all build the other up, enter into its very life and substance, and so it is lifted up and the stone is worn down. Clearly the main thing is heart life, the yearning within us to look sunward and say, "Let us lift up our heart to God in the heavens." May the Spirit of Life touch hearts that may be dead in unbelief and sin, hearts of stone, irresponsive to the love of God; may He so touch them as to awake the yearning sunward, so that this year at last may be for them a year of true life, with its daily motto, upward, upward, 66 sursum corda"!"Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!" The lifting up of the head is sure to follow. As soon as we are conscious of the up-springing of the Divine life in us, we shall take a very much more hopeful view of men and things. 7 It is a true saying that nature mirrors our life, is grave or gay according to the mood of him who looks at her. To one who is himself going down, everything seems going down; but if it is spring-time in your souls, you will see tokens of spring all around you. And then, even in the darkest hour, you still can say, "Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance and my God." sun. When once we know God, we can have confidence that our hopes in Him are not illusive; that the darkest clouds will some day break before the And even the slow processes of time bring a comfort to us which they cannot give to others. The hopes of age-long evolution are a mockery to the creature of a day; but to one who possesses life that never ends, it matters not how far off you may put the goal, I shall be there to see, to know, and to enjoy! Oh, it is so very different a thing to have a life which tends downwards to a few feet of earth, and a life which rises upwards into the illimitable blue! My friend, if only the life which answers to the touch of God be in you, you may lift up your head, and you will always see light in the distance at last; for even in such times as those of which our Lord is speaking in the second text, "times of perplexity for the roaring of the sea and the billows; men fainting for fear, and for expectation of the things which are coming on the world"-even in such times as these, you will hear "a deeper voice across the storm," saying as of old: "When these things begin to come to pass, look up, and lift up your heads, because your redemption draweth nigh." And with heart and head so lifted up, there need be no fear of the hands hanging down; no fear of even routine work becoming drudgery when we know it is a discipline for a higher sphere of service; no fear of our becoming discouraged for want of appreciation among men, if we remember that with the heart lifted up to God in heaven, all is accepted as done to Him who forgets no work of faith or labour of love. Nor need we even be discouraged by want of immediate success in our efforts for the advancement of the kingdom of God; for we have something better to trust to than the slow process of evolution, with its disappointing reversions. We have God's sure promise; and we know that "in due season we shall reap if we faint not." Let Heart up in faith, head up in hope, hands up in loving energy, and we know that our labour shall not be in vain in the Lord. Shall we not then take this for our motto for the year? it be Excelsior; but not to snow and ice, not to a frozen death, but up to purer air, brighter light, a warmer clime, a closer walk with God. Oh that we may all have a year of faith and hope and love!-a year of life responsive to the call of God in heaven-growing larger, richer, fairer, and more fruitful, "like the tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season." |