70 BLESSED WATER.-ROUGH WATERS. raving mad. His wife and children, after having been liberally assisted by the liquor merchant, Galbraith, were left to the kindness of friends, which soon died out, and then their only resort was the precarious charity of the world at large. The desolate widow had never encouraged her husband in drinking, but having had the misfortune to be the wife of a drunkard she had to pay the penalty in the form of penury, desolation, and sorrow. If any of her children had been sufficiently old and qualified, no doubt Galbraith would have taken them into his service; but they were not, and they escaped by this circumstance both the profit and peril of their ruined father's employment. Ah! singular enough, the servant is destroyed, but the proprietor flourishes; his victim dies, but he lives; and no man stood on better terms with himself, with the world, or with the Church, than Elder Galbraith. BELFAST. (To be continued.) Blessed Water. Blessed water-liquid gem, Thou art falling-gently falling- Bud and blossom, fruit and tree, Lisping, singing, diamond's flinging, Fearless glancing, reckless dancing, Faint and weary, lone and dreary, Panting, dying, naught descrying, MAN's extremity has been rightly called God's opportunity. When all hope of succour arising by any human agency is gone, then is the arm of the Omnipotent One put forth. Angel hands may not come to minister to human necessities-there may be no extraordinary manifestation of miraculous power; but still the finger of God may be plainly seen guiding the trifling circumstances of life to afford relief where it is needed. Many say they believe in a Providence overruling the affairs of men ; but where is their faith in the hour of trial? They trust to money, as long as they possess it; they trust to friends, as long as they remain true; but when every such source is gone, they are reluctant to trust Him who has the disposal of all the wealth of the universe, and can raise up friends when and where they are least expected. Her But Mrs. Singleton, though she was deprived for the time-being of all she possessed, still hoped on. faith was strong in a superintending Providence. Her position was most trying- all the articles of value she owned burnt her daughter almost at the point of death; her elder son a prodigal, and her younger one unable to find means of earning a subsistence. These accumulated troubles were sufficient to weigh down the strongest heart; but God saw them, Mrs. Singleton knew. He measured their extent, and would not let affliction's wave entirely overwhelm one who loved and trusted Him. The morning passed-a morning of deep uncertainty and suspense. Mrs. Singleton had written to a friend whom she knew in her better days, and had detailed her melancholy position to him. She asked a loan of a small amount of money, promising an immediate repayment of it. The person in whose house she and her daughter had taken refuge had given her to understand that she could not keep them beyond the following morning, unless some help came immediately. A letter came the following morning to Mrs. Single ton enclosing a five-pound note. There was written on the envelope, in an unknown hand-" Please receive this small sum from a loving friend." There could be no doubt about the person it came from, Mrs. Singleton thought. The lady to whom she applied must have been unwilling to communicate with her under her altered circumstances, and, therefore, had chosen this way of sending her relief. It was humiliating to her feelings to have to receive help from an old friend in this manner; but still she must be than ful. She asked God for help, and He had sent it. It was not for her to dictate in which way, or by what channel it should come. Her conjecture, how ever, about the donor was incorrect. Had she known the person to whom she was indebted for this acceptable present she would have been still more pained to have made use of it. ness. As we expected, the removal of Amy from her warm room into the night air brought on a relapse of her illThe worse symptoms again showed themselves; her delicate, frail form each day grew weaker. As her golden hair streamed over the pillow, and her pale, white marble face placidly smiled as her mother read some comforting passage of Scripture to her, she looked like one who had already breathed the atmosphere of Heaven. Her thin, transparent hands were often clasped in prayer, when she might be heard mentioning her elder brother's s name. That name seemed engraved on her heart. She knew he had done something wrong, but ROUGH WATERS. that could not alienate her affections from him; and now, when she felt that there was no chance of their meeting together on earth, she prayed that they might meet above. If the prodigals who are squandering their fortunes and wasting their health in sinful and depraved pursuite, knew how many little hands were nightly clasped for them, how many infant lips ascended to the throne beseeching in simple accents for their safety and deliverance from evil, would it not cause them to pause in their career? The sad news of the fire had not been yet communicated to Adelaide; but now her sister was so much worse in consequence of it, Mrs. Singleton was obliged to acquaint her with the accident. Poor news it was for Adelaide; poor news at any time to hear of a mother burnt out of house and home, and a sister almost dying; but it came now as a crowning disaster to many other misfortunes. When Adelaide received the sad intelligence from home, she was herself in the midst of a most perplexing trial. She had been overheard in her conversation with her brother Richard; Anne, the servant, who was present at the interview, did not tell it at once to her mistress, but reserved it for an occasion when it might serve her purpose. A day at length came. She had been told to take charge of Tommy, but the attractions of the town had induced her to ramble out during her mistres's absence, leaving Tommy to his own devices. That young gentleman amused himself for a considerable time in swimining boats in the pond at the bottom of the garden-a a thing he had been strictly charged not to do. His boat having got a little too far in the middle of the pord, he reached out to stretch to it, and, in the act of leaning over, lost his balance, and plunged head foremost into the muddy water. Fortunately. the part in which he fell was not very deep, so that he easily scrambled out. However, his mishap was quickly made known to his mother when she came home, by all his sisters crying out with one voice that Tommy had been trying to drown himself. An inquiry was instituted as to the whereabouts of Anne when the accident happened. It was generally supposed that she had gone up town; but this she stoutly denied. Miss Singleton was the only one, it was said, in the house all day, so she was sent for to be questioned where the servant was. "Please, you're wanted," said Anne to Miss Singleton. "You're wanted to tell on me; but, mind, if you do, I know something to bring out, about you, that you wont over-much like. Miss Singleton stretched herself erect, and, with her calm, blue eye, looked steadily into Anne's face. "What do you mean, Anne; do you think you can frighten me into telling an untruth?" "Well, Miss, if you are so extra particular, all I can say is it will be worse for yourself." "I beg you not to speak to me in this way, Anne. I do not at all understand to what you allude, and I tell you, once for all, that no threat from you or any one else, can ever make me deviate from the strict truth. "Obstinacy always brings its reward; and yours, Miss, will, as sure as I stand here." Without making further reply, Miss Singleton went at once to Mrs. Hunter. She told what she had seen. Anne had gone out, and was absent at the time when Tommy fell into the water. On that same evening, Mrs. Hunter heard Anne speaking in a disrespectful way of the governess to her children, and reproved her for not speaking in a more polite manner. "If you knew, ma'm, all as I knows of that young lady, you would not wonder at my not respecting her." "What do you refer to explain yourself immediately, answered Mrs. Hunter." "Why, ma'm, I hardly like to say. I never saw 71 anything like it afore; it's so bad to tell of a lady." Never mind what it is. I warn you, as you value your place, to tell me immediately." "Well, ma'am, when first the young lady came here, I thought she seemed to be often wanting to go out, and I thought she must have something particular to do, so I just watched her. I stood behind the paling when she was coming down the garden. Some one whistled softly down there, and then I heard her hollow out, Richard, is that you?" 66 Stop! are you sure you are speaking the truth," said Mrs. Hunter, looking with a penetrating glance at her servant; "if what you are saying is true, that young lady goes out of my house at once.' "I am positive certain, ma'm, it's all true what I am telling you." "Can you confirm, by any one else's testimony, what you saw yourself." "There was not one beside me in the garden; but I heard Master Tommy say that day, as you sent him home from church for pulling the tuft out of the cushions, that there was a man following Miss Singleton behind the hedge almost the whole way. He was very hot when he came in, and he said they were obliged to walk fast because of the man.' "Did you overhear any conversation between my governess and the man she called Richard?" 66 Yes; I heard a word here and there. She seemed to be uncommon sorry that he was going away, and said how often she longed to be back in their old happy home. I s'pose she meant future home. She gave him some good advice, and told him not to sink any lower. s'pose she is rather afraid of him taking to drink, or something like that, and so as not to be able to make the happy home as she talked about." "Don't tell me any more; send Miss Singleton to me immediately." On her entering, Mrs. Hunter, already swollen with anger. seemed scarcely able to contain herself. "Miss Singleton, I am almost ashamed to speak to you. I am ashamed that I should have admitted into my house such a character as you have turned out to be. I feel already that my precious children may have received some contamination from your company. You leave my house by the first train to-morrow morning. I give you this afternoon to arrange your luggage, but I forbid you during that time to have any intercourse with my children." "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Hunter; but may I be allowed to ask the reason of your displeasure? I was beginning humbly to hope that I was giving you and Mr. Hunter satisfaction in the discharge of my duties." 'Hypocrites, Miss Singleton, are more hateful to me than any other class of persons; those who make religion a cloak for their disgraceful conduct." 66 "I must really ask Mrs. Hunter for an explanation of this harsh judgment you have pronounced upon me. I am quite unconscious of having committed any offence against you; may I be allowed to suggest that the canse of your displeasure may arise from some misunderstanding." 66 Explanations I cannot give, Miss Singleton. I could not condescend to repeat what I have heard of you, on the most reliable testimony. I must request you now to leave the room, and to attend strictly to my orders." Miss Singleton was so staggered with the injustice of the charge that had been made against her. that she did not at first realise the perplexing circumstances in which she was placed. She had sent the five-pound note which proved so acceptable to Mrs. Singleton in her hour of distress. How hardly that five pounds had been earned-with what difficulty it was spared-only Adelaide Singleton knew. It was her first quarter's salary. and the only money she had to depend upon for the succeeding three months. This peremptory order to leave then, she knew not how to obey. To perform a long journey by train on the morrow was, in her present circumstances, an impossibility. How could she tell Mrs. Hunter this, when only a few days before she had handed her her quarter's salary. If she had formed a bad opinion of her, would she credit her story? Could she believe that a person who was not fit to stay in her house, for fear of contaminating her children, would have exercised such self-denial as to send the whole of her earnings to her widowed mother? There was no alternative, however, but to write to Mrs. Hunter, and lay the case before her. A note was hastily penned, detailing the extreme poverty of her mother and the illness of her younger sister, and stating that, thinking her residence at the Vicarage would have been more prolonged, she had forwarded all that she possessed for their relief. The next difficulty was how to forward the note to Mrs. Hunter. She could not enter her presence again after the rough rebuke she had received; she could not even ask one of the children to convey it, and she scarcely dare trust Anne with it, who had shown such a bitter spirit of enmity towards her. She determined to test Anne's feelings in the matter, and rings the bell. 66 'Well, miss," she said, opening the door hastily, "this is the last time I shall waste breath running messages for you." "I only want you, Anne, to be kind enough to take this note to Mrs. Hunter." "You may take it yourself next time. I have something to do besides carrying your notes about, I guess, though you would not trouble me to carry some of them; you know the sort I mean. I believe Missus is gone out; whether she is or not it will make no difference, so you might have saved yourself the trouble of writing any 'pology.' "Please explain yourself, Anne. I am not aware of having done anything which requiress an apology." "You know well enough what I mean; perhaps your memory won't take you back as far as that night when you had the meeting with somebody at the bottom of the garden. You see tell-tales never does themselves no good. If you hadn't told on me, I shouldn't have thought of mentioning your little affair." With this she slammed the door, but shortly returned with a note in reply. It was brief and cutting. "MADAM,-I refuse to have any further communication with you, and no plausible stories you are able to invent will induce me to keep you one day longer in my house. "E. E. HUNTER." This crushed every hope Adelaide had entertained of Mrs. Hunter's clemency. She trusted that the story of her mother's distress might move another mother's heart. She was mistaken. Mrs. Hunter would sooner believe a servant's idle tale than the statement of her governess. What was it also which Anne had alluded to? The meeting at the bottom of the garden? Could the anger of Mrs. Hunter have been roused by this circunstance ? She ponders over it, and at last the whole charge dawns upon her. What! accused of a clandestine meeting with some stranger? Accused by a servant without being permitted to give an explanation? Yes! it must be this; and Adelaide paced up and down the little chamber in which she was incarcerated; paced up and down till the blood swelled up in every vain, and the heart throbbed with violent emotion. Accused, unjustly accused-accused without a hearing, again and again rang in her ears. The room lay strewed with all her articles of dress, but she could not touch them now. This charge so gross, so cruel-had paralysed her strength, had unnerved her energies. She could think calmly before, she could plan deliberately some way of escaping out of the difficulty; but now all thoughts, all feelings are swallowed up in one troubled ocean of despair and grief. What a life of trouble and difficulty and conflict was hers! There were others idly resting in the lap of fortune, partaking of every luxury, exempt from all care, with loving friends to shield them from harm, and protect them from the insults to which she was now subjected. Why should fate have dealt out so terrible, so scorching a trial for her? And then she thought, are there not hundreds, yea thousands, like me, whom accidental circumstances have thrown upon the world, and compelled to earn their bread by licking the dust of others' feet? Arbitrary, unyielding fashion! why dost thou compel the refined, the sensitive, to be crushed by the overbearing conduct of those devoid of feeling and of callous heart? Why is every avenue of employment closed to the educated lady but that of a profession where a living must be earned at the expense of every feeling of self-respect and independence? Such were some of the thoughts coursing through the mind of Adelaide, but they were the mere ebullitions of the moment. Her spirit was ready to bow in humble submission to the decree of Providence, and willingly endure what He who looks down upon his own with a father's loving eye pleased to permit. The day had drawn to a close; the stars were just appearing in the sky; the moon was casting a silver ray through the open window, when, worn out with griefand harassing thought, she sank into a deep slumber. CHAPTER VIII. A SINGULAR MODE OF ESCAPE. Ragged Schools! how much does the name call up before our mind! Schools alone is a suggestive word. The place in which some say the most, and others the least, pleasant portion of their lives was spent. The little inner circle, the miniature ocean in which all disport themselves for a time ere they launch out on the broader and more troublous sea of life. Much depends, though-boys home for the holidays will never admit it-on the way time is spent in that preliminary sailing. The ship ought there to become seasoned and tempered for the rough seas it will afterwards encounter. Who of us, in looking back to the days when, on wooden benches, we sat thumbing our Cæsar's, or trying vainly to find the cube root or master quadratic equations, does not see in those useful efforts the training which in mature age has been found incalculably useful. But what of Ragged Schools of whom are they composed? What a tale does it tell of misery and want and wretchedness that whole Schools should be called by the name of ragged! How it reflects upon our civilization and boasted advancement to have so many such schools in our midst, and still a crying need for more! Numbers of children ushered into the world to be clothed in rags, to find themselves immediately the prey of want and distress. As they grow up, either rising out of the rags in which they were born, or more generally with the rags still clinging to them, another generation are born as ragged as they were, as povertystricken, as destitute of temporal or spiritual good. Philanthropy does what it can. It plucks the jewels from the mire, but it does not always succeed in removing the filth which encompasses them. The ragged school in which Jack, Mr. Gilby's office boy, received the rudiments of education, may be taken as a fair sample of the rest. Let us glance around one morning when the school is assembled. ROUGH WATERS. No wonder there is an appearance of guilt upon the countenance when we learn from whence some of those boys come. Jack, for instance, was the son of a murderer. His father was executed for a brutal and unprovoked murder, a murder perpetrated merely to get money. From his mother's mouth he never heard anything but violent language and profane oaths. He was early sent out to make his bread on the streets, to beg or to steal it. If he did not come home with some stolen property, he was beaten. Forced at first to beg and to steal, he at length began to like it, until he was rescued by the missionary and placed in the school. Though his mother did not beat him after that for not returning home laden with spoil, yet she still caused him to feel what hunger was, what a cold, comfortless home was, what it was to lie on the hard floor all night without mattress or covering. The history of many others we might give; of many, very many, who owe their poverty and wretchedness to the intemperance of both father and mother. Some there are who often go straight from the school to the gin-shop to try and induce their drunken parents to return home. Some from their earliest years have seen no fire, no light, no appearance of comfort except in the flashing mirror and warm glow of the gin-palace, from the time when they first remember they are conscious of the mug of spirits being applied to their mouths. You, who ignorantly oppose the pledge being administered to children, look at these children of poverty with the bottle's neck placed to their infant lips, with the fiery fluid forced down their tiny throats. Will not the taste of this fluid, so early imbibed, grow with their growth and strengthen with their strength? Assuredly it will, if not early checked. By forbidding or discountenancing taking the pledge in youth, you serve to keep up and foster the pernicious taste for alcohol, and you deepen the root of an evil disease which may afterwards be never eradicated. But so much of the pupils. Let us glance at the master. He is one well fitted for his post. An earnest Christian man, labouring hard to sow the seeds of reformation in uncongenial soil. He meets with many rebuffs, with much discouragement, but still goes on trusting in the truth of that promise, "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand, for thou can'st not tell which shall prosper, this or that, or whether they shall both be alike good." Mr. Gilby had a communication once before with the master of this school. It was then to make enquiries for a suitable boy for his office; he now comes to reproach the master for having sent him one who so flagrantly betrayed his trust. The paragraph which Mr. Gilby read in the paper concerning the deserving boy who took such care of his master's property when the hansom cab upset, induced him to examine his safe and see if by any chance this parchment might belong to him. On examination, he finds to his horror and surprise that all title and deeds to his large Northern estate are removed. He can scarcely control his fury, circumvented, cheated, outdone by a charity boy. He hurries off with all speed to the school from whence the boy came to see if the master knew anything of his residence. The master, though firm and determined with his pupils, was rather meek and gentle in his manner, and the bluff, overbearing manner of Mr. Gilby quite overwhelmed him. "Sir," said that gentleman to him, "you have treated me most shamefully in sending me a good-for-nothing boy, who has decamped with a large part of my property. "I am very grieved to hear it, sir," replied the master. 73 "He was the best boy in my school, sir; I trusted him with everything I had. If he removed your deeds he must have done so by the instigation of some one else." "Be quiet about your instigation, and just let me put a question to the boys." "Sir, I am afraid they will not listen to you; they are rather unruly before strangers." 66 66 Boys," cried Mr. Gilby, you are all a good-fornothing set. I should not have come amongst you, but I have reason to complain of one who has lately entered my service." A clatter of feet, a rattle of slates, and a jargon of voice here followed, in which the rest of Mr. Gilby's speech was entirely lost. In the midst of the disturbance he received a violent blow from a piece of slate pencil, hitting his nose, which considerably incensed his anger. "Disgraceful! disgraceful! sir. How can you presume to be a master, and allow such a bear-garden as this." "I cannot control the feelings of the boys, sir, before strangers. I informed you at first that they would not listen to you." "The whole lot of them deserve to be sent to prison. That is the place for them." "The task of reforming them, sir, is very difficult; but we try to win them by love, and though we often fail in our attempts to improve their behaviour, yet one here and there rewards our efforts." "Please don't talk like that to me. I have seen enough of your reforming. Just tell these boys that I will give any of them five pounds if they will find out where Jack lives." They say, sir, that they know where Jack lives, only they want the money before they tell you." Here one boy slipped out at the back door unobserved by the master, which created great excitement in the school, as they all cried out that Bill Higgins was gone to get the five pounds. They cannot have the money," replied Mr. Gilby, "until they not only find the place where Jack lives but have him arrested as well; of course I meant that, but with all the noise they were making I scarcely knew what I said." When the boys thoroughly understood the reward offered, and the conditions on which it would be given, they became impatient to leave the school that they might commence the search for the young delinquent. When his crime was first announced by Mr. Gilby, they were inclined rather to screen him from punishment, but the offer of five pounds quickly dispelled all such generous emotions. One, however, was before them in their hunt after Jack. Bill Higgins had made his way to the residence of his young friend. It was not a very fashionable quarter where he lived. The houses had long since bid adieu to paint, whitewash, and even we fear clean water. The way up to Jack's lodging was through a narrow entry. Through this passage Bill Higgins was just making his way when he heard in the distance the hool of the boys just released from school. "There is no time to be lost," he thought, "if I am to save Jack." So he hurried up as fast as his legs would carry him several flights of narrow stairs. Having arrived at a small garret door, he knocks softly and makes a signal, which Jack knew, and immediately unfastened the bolt. "Jack, you have no time to lose-all the school's after you. Your master has been there, and offered five pounds for your head. They will come round this yard like so many terriers after a rat." 74 "ELINORA."-MISAPPREHENSION CORRECTED. "Where shall I go? where shall I go, Bill? Save me if you can." "Well, what about the money you have got, if I am the means of saving of you. I ought to have some of that." "I will give you a quarter of all that I have got, if you can put me in a safe place out of this." "That isn't enough. I won't do anything unless you give me half." "Half, then, that is a bargain ;" and the two shook each other's dirty hands in order to ratify it. "Now, Bill, what am I to do?" "Do you see those big barrels down yonder in that yard? They are to be filled up to-morrow and carted away. I know the boy 'at fills them up; he puts all kinds of h'articles in 'em, such as skins of animals, hoofs, and things like that. Some says they go to make leather, and others that they help to make sausages. You must get into one of these barrels, and the boy 'at loads them will see as how you are put up gently in the cart. "But how about getting out again; they generally roll those barrels off with a bump without any sliding. Will the boy be there when they unload?" "Not exactly; no. You see as how he couldn't go all the way down country with them. They goes about twenty miles from this-a fine long way you'll be from your old master." "But it won't matter to be a long way off, if I am dead in the tub, as I specks I shall be." “Oh, no ; you'll be quite comfortable, only you must have some victuals put in with you, for it may be a long time afore you gets out. But come along, you must get in now or never, for them boys will be up in half a second!" There was a back way down to the yard which Bill Higgins knew of, and conducted his friend to an empty barrel. "In with you now." "Be sure and don't nail the top on too tight, Bill." "Never fear I won't only just put nails enough in to keep it together." "There, how do you feel now; very comfortable, don't you?" Jack, from within the tub, "No, it is uncommon close. You must make two or three more holes, or I shan't be able to breathe." "I will come and make them bye-and-bye, as the boys be just coming up now, and they'll see me and scent you out." A deep groan from within intimated that Jack assented to the proposition, though he did not at all fancy the idea of waiting for air to breathe. "Now, boys, up with you," said Mr. Gilby to the number of ragged boys who were marshalled like a regular army round Jack's lodging. Up they all scampered up the tottering old brokendown staircase, and without waiting to knock, rushed into Jack's apartment. The bird, however, they found, was flown, and after searching every nook and cranny of the house, they had to return to Mr. Gilby and tell him of their bad success. He found it a rather unprofitable speculation taking them into his service and promising a conditional reward, for after having exerted themselves in vain in pursuit of the culprit, they felt that they had as great a claim on his bounty as if they had found him. They surrounded Mr. Gilby, and in that barbarous and desolate region he was completely at their mercy, and was forced to comply with their demands. As he was driving home the following night, he passed a cart laden with large barrels. He little knew that the object of his search was contained in one of them, and that his eyes were at that moment peering through the bung-hole at his old master. (TO BE CONTINUED.) (The Right of Re-publication of this Tale is reserved.) Elinora. "Which forsaketh the guide of her youth, and forgetteth the covenant of her God." Teary is my tale, Elinora- 'Tis of a dreamy dell, And of Elinora Who was woo'd away Elinora- Laughing Elinora. To this deadly dell, And its fairy flowers. Fairy fruits and flowers. But tasted ne'er again, Öf fair Elinora- Belfast, April, 1863. J. B. E. Misapprehension Corrected. WE have great pleasure in giving insertion to the following letter, inasmuch as it entirely removes the impression which had been left, not only on the mind of our contributor, but on many minds throughout the country-that Mr. Harkness had abandoned the ground formerly occupied so ably by himself, and was contending for the intoxicating quality of the wine at Cana. Our contributor must explain for himself the occasion of his misapprehension. The present letter, however, makes it clear that there is now no material difference between our contributors-both are zealously maintaining, in their separate ways, the principles of purity and sound criticisin. To the Editor of the IRISH TEMPERANCE LEAGUE JOURNAL. "SIR,-Your leading article in the last number professes to be a Reply' to one written by me in the Evangelical Witness. This is the title under which it was advertised in newspapers and periodicals. Accordingly, that there may be apparent consistency in this title, you proceed to represent me as affirming (the italics are your own) that intoxicating wine is not a bad thing-and then, assuming |