IS QUAKERISM DECLINING? influence it has hitherto exerted in the Church and in the commonwealth. The Friends have always declined to put forth any written creed, or standard of faith and practice. They profess the Scripture to be their only creed, and in this respect they exemplify to the letter the memorable saying of Chillingworth, "The Bible, the Bible alone is the religion of Protestants." There have been various expositions of Christian truth as held by the Society, but none of these has any official authority, and probably none would receive universal approval. The Bible is the final book of appeal, and the right of private judgment is firmly maintained. "To the law and the testimony; if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them." Such is, in theory, "the basis of faith" in the Society of Friends. Creeds and Articles have their uses; but certainly one advantage in their absence is that no human authority prevents free study of the Divine records. The Friends acknowledge no human master or teacher, and there are no "Fathers" to impose upon them either beliefs or usages. They are free to adopt whatever experience and reason may show to be "for edification." Whether the Friends are quite as free from "authority" as they profess to be, and whether they adhere to some things as much because they are customary as because they are salutary, it is not for us to judge. We were certainly much surprised lately to hear one of the most useful and influential of their body, in confidential' but emphatic words, confess, "We are eaten up by formality." It is not for us to discuss this, though we hope there is freedom of discussion in the Society as to non-essential matters of worship and of life. We should like to mention some things which we think hindrances to progress and usefulness, but this is not the place for such friendly criticism. It is enough here to state that in most of the essential and fundamental points of doctrine the Friends differ little, if at all, from the great bulk of Protestants. We often worship with them, and can testify that their prayers and addresses are such as any evangelical Christian can respond to and enjoy. But it is not so much by what is heard in their meeting-houses, as by the whole tenor of their system, that we regard the principles of the Friends as specially valuable in these times. For what are the errors which at present most afflict the Christian Church, and destroy the souls of men? They have their root in sacerdotalism, of which there now is a wild outbreak even in Churches of the Reformation. Never since Luther's time has so much been heard about the priestly office-the priest in confession, the priest in absolution, the priest in many ways claiming authority over the laity. Hence the Ritualism which is so rampant; hence the false belief in Sacramental efficacy; hence the importance given to vestments and ceremonies and other externals of religion, or rather of priestcraft and of superstition. Sacerdotalism may accord with Pagan, or Jewish, or Popish systems, but is contrary to the letter and spirit of the New Testament. Against this sacerdotal system, and all pertaining to it, the Society of Friends is a standing testimony. We may think that in some points the protest is carried to an extreme, but omission of what is formal is infinitely better than 18 absence of what is spiritual. Where they fail, we must admit that " their failings lean to virtue's side." The leading principle of all their system is this word-" God is a Spirit: and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth.' Passing from doctrine and worship to the influence which Christianity ought to have in the world, the Society of Friends maintains as noble a testimony as ever against war, against slavery, against despotism, against ignorance, against worldliness, against vice. The Quaker is a man of peace, a lover of freedom, a friend of education, a supporter of all charitable and philanthropic work. His word is his bond; his yea, yea, and his nay, nay. With no pretence to asceticism, he thinks lightly of mere worldly dignities, or honours, or titles; his sentiment is, "A man's a man for a' that." Virtue is the one true nobility; the chief difference and highest distinction among men must be due to the grace of God. Who could wish to see the Society declining, or Quakerism dying out? On a New Year. WHEN Yule logs are burning low, And the echoes of the strain That we sang at Christmas go, Comes a bright New Year again; Pure as falling flakes of snow, Bringing blessing in its train. Earthly blessing; fruits and flowers, Gathered in with grateful hands; Genial sun and freshening showers; For the promise ever standsWhile remains this earth of ours, These shall gladden all her lands. Neither will the year supply Earthly benefit alone; Heavenly blessings in it lie; It must prove a stepping-stone That shall leave us, by and by, Nearer to our Father's throne. Pilgrims, see! the pearly dawn Makes the far horizon clear; Lo, the night is past and gone, Light is breaking, morn is here; In the day swift drawing on, Welcome we another year. Pilgrims, sing! your voices lift Then, before the rising sun Pilgrims, let us kneel and pray; 8. E. G. Pages for the young. THE BANISHED FAMILY. CHAPTER I. HE traveller whose unfrequented way may lead through Westerthaul, one of the most secluded valleys of the Upper Danube, will remark in its remotest corner, between the infant river and the wooded hills, a stretch of wild, overgrown land which still shows traces of ancient cultivation, and in the midst of it the ruins of an old-fashioned farmhouse. In the middle years of the eighteenth century, those forsaken fields and that ruined house were the farm and dwelling-place of Martin Kindermann, his wife Martha, and their seven children. Then, as now, the valley was occupied by a scattered village, cottage and farmhouse succeeding each other, though at wide intervals, throughout its whole length. The Kindermanns' home was the most distant from neighbours, there being no house within a German mile of it; but no family in Westerthaul were considered more prosperous or respectable, for besides being thrifty and well-to-do, they had a good name for things honest and honourable, which like their house and farm was inherited from generations long at rest in the village churchyard. The Kindermanns were old among the families of the valley; they had settled there before the Reformation time; its light had shone on Westerthaul, as it did on all that part of the German land, and was received by their ancestors, who formed part of a Protestant community living and worshipping there in peace for many a generation: but time and change had dealt upon it; some families had died out, some had emigrated, and among the rest their own relations, till the dwellers in that solitary farmhouse were left alone with their Lutheran faith and Lutheran Bible, the only one in Westerthaul, while all its other inhabitants were Roman Catholic to a man. Yet the most flourishing congregation could not have done more credit to the religion they professed, or given a better example of the duties it inculcated. and Christian charity with their Catholic neighbours, controverting their tenets only by avoiding the superstitious practices to which they led, and preserving their own rights of conscience by respecting those of the dwellers around them. Hence the Kindermanns were well-regarded throughout the valley; the persecuting spirit had never prevailed there, even in the old embittered times which succeeded the Reformation; and now the pure and peaceable wisdom of that lonely family brought the most bigoted peasant to think less harshly of the "Lutheran heretics." The spirit which enabled the solitary household to maintain such friendly relations with neighbours that might have been hostile made their own home the happiest in Westerthaul. The summer bloom and autumn wealth of the meadows and corn-fields that lay round it, the moss-grown fences and thick hedge-rows that divided them, the carefullypruned trees in its ample orchard, the well-trained vine that covered the walls-all gave token of an old hereditary homestead, and its long occupation by the same kith and kin. : The present owner, Martin, and his wife Martha, were each of the Bavarian peasant type, which is said to come nearest to the ancient German, with whom the Romans fought tall and fair-haired, their robust frames and ruddy faces had less of beauty than sturdy strength to boast; but there was in the countenance of both husband and wife a look of kindly intelligence and sterling worth which the finest mould of form or features could never equal to the thoughtful mind. They were almost of the same years, and had scarcely reached the midsummer-time of life. Their seven children, all sons, were recognisable to the valley people by the remarkable resemblance they bore to both father and mother; but David, the eldest, was yet a mere youth: the rest were mere children, and some of them very young; so the neighbours were accustomed to wonder among themselves that the Kindermanns did not require more help to manage their house and farm, after the brothers and sisters who shared the old home with Martin and his wife had married and gone away to distant farms and houses of their own. The inhabitants of more populous districts would have wondered how the family managed to live at all in such an outof-the-world spot. The Danube, on its way from the heights of the Black Forest, flowed past their door-in winter a foaming torrent, in summer a silvery stream; but with no sight or sound of life upon its waters except the white wings of the floating swan or the scream of the fishing heron. The wild stag looked down on their fields at times from the wooded hills behind, the wolf and the boar were occasionally heard of in their neighbourhood, but the Kindermanns had brave hearts as well as industrious hands. Parents and children had grown strong in mind and muscle by living in the wild with nature and with nature's God. Their isolated home was to them the dearest spot on earth: family love gave sunshine to its winters, and lightened the labours of seed-time and harvest; the word of truth was read within its walls, and from its fireside the psalm of praise and the voice of prayer went up like the morning and evening sacrifice. Relations who came to visit them in holiday times carried back to their distant settlements joyful tales of the comfort and prosperity they found in the old home. Nevertheless, there was one thing about that house which the owner would have willingly altered had it been within his power, and that was its distance from any place of Protestant worship. In former times when a Lutheran community existed in Westerthaul, and families of the same faith were to be found in all the adjacent valleys, an ancient church, standing in a sheltered hollow among the wooded hills, and easily accessible to most of the worshippers, had been their common temple; but as his congregation moved away the pastor moved with them; the services in the old church were discontinued; for many a Upright, prudent, and pious, they lived in friendly intercourse year it had fallen into ruin and decay, and the nearest place THE BANISHED FAMILY. where the Kindermanns could join in public worship, or share in religious ordinances, was the church of Birkenfeild, a village in the highlands of the Black Forest, seven German, or almost fifty English miles from their home. They had relations there, and found it possible to go sometimes in the summer season; in winter it was out of the question, except the weather was unusually fine; but at no time could they venture to take the young children, for the way was rough and wild, the journey to and from engrossed the greater part of a week, and either the eldest son, or one of the parents, had to stay at home and take care of them in the lonely farmhouse. To share in the Easter communion is a privilege most dear to the heart of the Lutheran peasant. From their marriageday, Martin and Martha had made a point of taking the long journey that they might kneel together at the sacramental altar in Birkenfeild, while David remained at home, making up, by the care and discretion which always characterised their eldest boy, for the absence of father and mother, The pair had gone on their pious and loving way, shared in the sacred rite, visited their far-removed relations, and were on their homeward journey across the wooded hills, when at the close of a beautiful spring day they reached the ruined church where so many of their ancestors had worshipped. Martin and Martha were capable pedestrians, they travelled all the way on foot-indeed, most of it was not practicable by horse or carriage -and feeling rather fatigued, as well as thinking themselves almost at home, they decided to rest for a few minutes in the long-forsaken building. The roof had fallen away, the ivy which clothed the walls outside had crept in through the shattered windows, but the chancel-screen, a fine specimen of Gothic carving, still remained entire; and as they stood gazing on it with an interest which the old relic never failed to inspire, both were startled by a sound between a whisper and a sigh, which seemed to come from behind it. Though less superstitious than most German peasants of their day, something like terror began to creep over husband and wife; the place was unfrequented now, though many by-ways led to it, and among them one communicating with the direct road to the frontier of Austria; but at length taking courage to peep through an opening in the screen, they saw kneeling in the chancel beyond, and evidently engaged in earnest prayer, a young and beautiful girl, dressed in a fashion which they knew to be that of the Austrian country-people. Surprise had scarcely left them presence of mind enough to retire and seat themselves in the recess of a distant window, when the girl, as if interrupted by their movements, emerged from the chancel with a small bundle in her hand, and bade them a courteous good-evening. The Kindermanns responded with equal civility. Martha made room for the young stranger, who continued to stand by her side, and the three entered into conversation on the beauty of the season and the desolation of the ancient church. Though an Austrian in accent as well as in dress, the girl was perfectly intelligible to Martin and his wife, as any of the frontier people would have been, for dialects differ little in border-lands; and as their talk progressed they could not help observing that her remarks were serious and sensible beyond her years, and that her speech and manner belonged to a class and schooling far above their own. Pious themselves, and inclined to judge charitably of all, the Kindermanns could entertain no suspicion of a young person whom they had seen kneeling in secret devotion; yet it was late for her to be there alone in the midst of a wild and strange country, and as they rose to go, Martha said, by way of warning, "Fraulein, is thy home near at hand? for the night is coming, and we must hasten to our own in Westerthaul." "Westerthaul!" said the girl; "that is where I wish to go. Will you be so good as to let me walk with you, for I am afraid to be alone in the night, and, besides, I am not sure of the way?" "And welcome, Fraulein," said the husband and wife in a 15 breath: "come with us; our house is the first we shall reach in the valley, and as it may be late to find thy friends, thou shalt stay there till the morning, for we have room enough for more than our own family." The girl thanked them with a warmth they had not expected; their kind offer of shelter for the night seemed to lift a burden from her mind, and the three proceeded together, beguiling the way with friendly talk; but the honest Kindermanns remarked afterwards, that though they told their new acquaintance everything regarding their boys, their farm, and their journey to Birkenfeild, she told them nothing of either her previous history, or the motive that brought her to Westerthaul; and young as the girl was, they felt unwilling to ask a direct question on the subject, lest they might seem to be taking advantage of her peculiar position. It was some hours after nightfall before they reached the farmhouse; the younger children were long asleep, but the kindly thoughtful David, knowing the usual time of their return, had sat up to wait on his weary parents, and now helped them to welcome the unexpected stranger. She had made no complaint on the journey, but was evidently unaccustomed to walking the rough woodland ways, and seemed so far exhausted, that after the substantial supper, of which she took little share, Martha thought it right to conduct her at once to the guest-room of the house. It gladdened the good woman's heart to see her rise refreshed and cheerful next day, and after pressing her to share their morning meal, she said, "Fraulein, where do thy friends live? We know most of the farms and families in the valley." The young girl reddened to the brow, and after a pause answered, "Frau, I have no friends in Westerthaul. I came hither because I had heard it was a safe and honest place. I am young, as you see, and I am an orphan, as far as I know; for my mother is dead, and my father has stayed so long abroad without sending me the least intelligence, that I fear he is dead also. Frau, you have no daughter of your own, and must need help to manage so large a farmhouse-let me stay with you for what I can do my knowledge of household work is little, but I will soon learn, and be worth my living in your family." The red flush was gone from her face by this time, and the girl looked so honest and discreet, moreover the proposed help was so much wanted, that Martha, after a consulting glance at her husband, whose answering look said, "You know best, do as you please "-prudent man, that was generally his way—responded, "Stay, and welcome, if you are a good girl, as I hope you are; you will be a great help to me." But she added, as a doubt struck her, “You look to have come from Austria, where all the people are Catholics, and we are of the Lutheran confession." "I have come from Austria, and I was brought up a Catholic; but it seems to me that the Lutherans are right in many things, and at any rate I would be happy to live and worship with a family like yours. Let me stay, Frau; we will have no disputes about faith, and I hope we will agree in practice," said the girl. 'May the Lord grant us all grace to practise only that which is good, Fraulein; I say again thou art welcome to stay with me and mine," said Martha, returning to the Quaker-like style, as we in England would call it, in which the German peasants thought it proper to address their inferiors in age, their children, or familiar friends. "But what is thy name? for we are homely folks, and not accustomed to give titles." 'My Christian name is Catharine, and my family one is Hofer, which being an Austrian name may sound strangely in this province, and strangers are apt to be ill-regarded; wherefore, Frau, I pray that of your goodness you will call me only Catharine." Martha did not notice the singularity of the request-like most of her people, the dame was somewhat slow of apprehension; but she promised compliance, and the simple negotiation being thus concluded, Catharine remained with the Kindermanns, and became their help in household affairs. It was evident from the first that the small white hands and slender frame of the young stranger had never been accustomed to the work of an outlying farmhouse, but good will soon gains experience; Catharine was determined to make herself useful, and in a short time she succeeded so well that Martha began to speak of the girl as her right hand, and Martin said he knew the house could never do without her again. The solitary situation of the farmhouse, and the rarity of visitors there, were great hindrances to gossip or comment on its concerns, and seemed particularly suited to Catharine's turn of mind. Except with the household amongst whom she had found a home, the girl was shy and retiring to an uncommon degree. In the company of the young Kindermanns she would venture any distance into the woods or up the wild banks of the river, yet could hardly be persuaded to walk through the scattered village, and the sight of a stranger approaching the house made her tremble like an aspen leaf. Such a dread of human faces was unaccountable in one so young and fair. Martha said the poor soul must have got a fright in her time, by some evil chance or worse workers of mischief; but Catharine could or would give no explanation on the subject. The reserve regarding her past life which the good woman and her husband had noticed in their homeward journey continued, in spite of close and intimate acquaintance. In other respects the Kindermanns found her social, cheerful, and familiar; not only a valuable help in household affairs, but a member that would be missed in their home circle, when leisure hours came with the fall of the summer evening or the winter night. She told them tales from books they had never seen, she read to them the few they possessed in a style to which the Kindermanns' reading was only spelling out, she sang in a clear sweet voice old songs and hymns that were common to all the German lands, and, what most delighted the parent pair, she ably assisted them in the instruction of their young children, whose only school was the family fireside. Her promise that there should be no disputes about faith was more than fulfilled. Catharine knelt with them in prayer, and joined her voice with theirs in praise; she almost monopolised the reading of Luther's Bible, and took every opportunity to converse with Martin and Martha concerning those doctrines in which Protestant and Catholic differ. Though their general education was far inferior to her own, their religious instruction had been better; and the worthy pair not only endeavoured as far as they could to enlighten her mind by the knowledge of the truth which had made them and their ancestors free, but in their private prayers offered up a special petition that the stranger whom Providence had brought to share their home might share that freedom too. The kindly helpful ways and gentle manners of the young Austrian girl had won their honest hearts, and not theirs alone. From the night when he first welcomed her home with his parents, their eldest son David had shown a marked partiality to the fair stranger, which she in some degree returned. As time progressed and the young people became better acquainted, both father and mother perceived that a mutual affection was growing up between them, and the discovery was not unwelcome. Whatever might be the cause of her reserve as regarded her birthplace and family, Catharine's daily life and conversation convinced the Kindermanns that no better partner could be found for their son. "I have often wished," said Martha, when discussing the prospect with her husband, "that Providence had thought fit to send us a daughter among so many sons; and now when I see her always by my hand at work, and David always by her side when we sit down in the evening, it seems to me that a daughter has come to us out of a strange land." "So it seems to me," said Martin. "David has chosen well. I only wish that Catharine would tell us more of her people and her kin." But the pair had a sadder and more pressing subject to discuss ere long. SCRIPTURE ENIGMA. NO. I. 1. One weeping for her children dead, And none could stay the tears she shed? 2. Who gave his privilege away, Forgetful of the future day?' 3. Who consecrated all his days With frequent prayers and holy praise? 4. Who passed in fiery car to heaven, Completed all the work God-given? 5. Who sinned when Time its course began, And brought all woe on guilty man? 6. Who gave the laws that Israel broke, When God 'mid Sinai's thunders spoke? 7. Who saw the vision of a "Child". Of "God and mercy reconciled?" 8. Who warned the world of punishment For wasted years, and called, "Repent?" 9. A name of scorn once borne by Him Whose glories time can never dim? 10. Who in the happy days of youth The lessons learned of lasting truth? 11. Who saw when struck by dire disease The shadow alter ten degrees? 12. The place where first the tempter's art Lured woman from the "better part?" 13. A word that tells of doom profound, The balance weighed, and wanting found? 14. An heir of promise, through whose race Came first the news of God's rich grace? 15. Who saw of men the greatest age Recorded in the sacred page? 16. Where dwelleth He who reacheth down A New Year's motto here behold; SUNDAY AT HOME. A Family Magazine for Sabbath Reading. MURIEL'S KEY-NOTE. CHAPTER III.-HEAT. I TELL YOU, I-WILL-BE-OBEYED." expression did not suit her face, which wanted warmth at the best of times. Muriel stood in a spiritless attitude looking through an album; and a square-browed sleepy-eyed lad of seventeen or eighteen, having planted his chin upon his two hands, seemed lost to the outer world. Nobody knew much of Arthur Bertram's inner life. He was a clever boy, some said, but a very silent one. Mr. Rivers, returning from the hall, whither with old-fashioned courtesy he had accompanied his guests, PRICE ONE PENNY. |