pelting rain and utter darkness prevented any useful observations. We kept all as close together as we could-a strange group, as, lighted by the boat's lantern, we crouched under the canvas, lying on the damp boggy ground, or leaning against the rock. We had scarcely crawled into this place and begun to realise our position-some of us verging on in life, and most of us accustomed to all "the comforts of the Salt Market," and therefore somewhat depressed-when a sailor proposed to keep up our spirits by singing a song. It was well enough in its way, and certainly better than the other which they had sung in hauling up the boat, but not very suitable for people who, through God's great mercy, had just escaped from imminent peril of death. I therefore proposed some hymns instead. We sang the evening hymn, both Keble's and the other, Jerusalem the Golden, and others used in the chapel here, in which most of the party had been worshippers last Sunday. Then we had a short prayer commending ourselves to God's good keeping; and prepared to keep each other awake as best we could, for the seven hours before us, as it was voted dangerous for any to fall asleep in our soaking state. I pulled out of my pocket John Shairp's poem "Kilmahoe," and read aloud "The Sacramental Sabbath." The Presbyterian minister of Lochgilphead, who was one of the party, read the next canto when I was tired. However, it seemed that something livelier was needed to keep the party awake, and the wonderful spirits of Archy Auchindarroch (just come home from India with the 72nd Highlanders, as fine a specimen of a spirited young soldier as I ever saw, who had really done wonders for us on our leaving the vessel), were far more effectual than the grave attempts of the minister and myself. Auchindarroch, too, was a host in himself, keeping everybody's spirits up, and letting nobody fall asleep. His youngest son, ten years old, was the only one who could not be kept awake. And thus passed the seven hours. There were endless speculations where we might be-anxious questionings as to the ship-much thankfulness that we had not all gone to the bottom, and somewhat fearful forebodings as to what might be the effect on elderly ladies and gentlemen, to say nothing of young ones, from so unexpected a conclusion of our pleasure trip. About three, some streaks of day were descried, and at last our scouts announced that the vessel was at anchor at no great distance. It was resolved that the indomitable Archy Auchindarroch, with two sailors and another gentleman, should row to the ship and ascertain how matters stood. About four, certain tidings were brought to us that the vessel was safethat when she cleared the rocks, to the captain's surprise and great relief, he found that, as she had struck on the keel, no hole had been made in her iron bottom -at least she had not let in any more water-though at first she was reported to be letting it in, though slowly. This intelligence put a happy end to our speculations as to the fate of our friends; and also solved for ourselves the question what we were to do. Very thankful were we all when the captain welcomed us back. We all agreed that the captain was right in sending us at once ashore in the great uncertainty,— and though those, no doubt, fared best who remained by the ship, still, for my own part, I confess I was glad to have escaped the great anxiety of hauling the vessel off the rocks, when the chances were that she might have sunk at once like a kettle with a hole in it, and none escaped but those who could swim. Soon we were making progress for Ardrishaig. Before six a.m. on Wednesday we landed at the pier, thanking God; and for ourselves, were in bed at Bishopston before the little girls had even found out that we had not come home at eight the night before, as we expected. The passengers urged upon the captain the desirableness of telegraphing at once to the Admiralty, and so putting himself right there. He did so with some trepidation. The First Lord at that time was the Duke of Somerset, who likes his joke, as the House of Lords appears to know. He immediately telegraphed back the inquiry whether the Bishop of London was steering! And the captain, rightly taking this as an indication that the accident was not regarded with much gravity at headquarters, was immediately at peace. GOOD COUNSEL. HETHER therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." 1. Never neglect daily, private prayer; if possible have stated times for this exercise, and when you pray, remember that God is present and that He hears your prayer. II. Never neglect private Bible reading; and when you read remember that God is speaking to you, and that you are to believe and act upon what He says. Backsliding generally begins with the neglect of private prayer and Scripture reading. III. Never let a day pass without trying to do something for Jesus. Every night reflect on what Jesus has done for you, and then ask yourself, "What am I doing for Him?" iv. If ever you are in doubt as to a thing being right or wrong, at once ask God's guidance and blessing. If you cannot do this, stand still. v. Never take your Christianity from Christians, or argue that because such and such people do so and so, that therefore you may. You should ask yourself, "How would Christ act in my place?" and strive to follow Him. VI. Never believe what you feel, if it contradicts God's Word. Ask yourself, "Can what I feel be true, if God's Word is true?" and if both cannot be true, believe God, and make your own heart a liar. OME, ye thankful people, come, Raise the song of Harvest Home; All this world is God's own field, For the Lord our God shall come, Even so, Lord, quickly come, A FRENCH SOLDIER'S ADVENTURE. HEN a lieutenant in the French army serving in Spain, I had been billeted in a village which was suddenly attacked by guerillas. Many of my comrades were hunted out and shot down without mercy. Fortunately I had made friends with my landlady, and she determined to do her best to save me from death. My From the back entrance to the house, a long covered passage led to the bottom of the yard, and about midway in this passage was a rather deep well. hostess proposed that I should descend in the bucket, as the guerillas would hardly think of looking for me in such a place; and even if they should the passage was so ill-lighted that at a depth of some fifty or sixty feet I should most likely escape observation. We had at first agreed that I should thrust a foot into each side of the crumbling walls of the well, and so, supporting myself the best way I could, allow the bucket to be drawn up, in order to avoid the suspicion which might be created by leaving it in so unusual a position. But I found it to be quite impossible to do this. I could by no means dispense with the rope. The well was so wide that, without a support in the middle, I should inevitably leave go my hold and be drowned. A remedy, however, was soon suggested. By the side of the wood pile in the yard there were several long poles; and if the water should not prove too deep, it was evident that I could use one of them in place of the rope. With a long piece of cord a pole was sent down, and to my great joy I found that about four feet of it remained out of water. I was thus enabled to do without the rope; and the bucket having been drawn up, I was left to make myself as comfortable as possible. It was by this time broad daylight, and the guerillas were eagerly searching for those unhappy Frenchmen who, like me, had sought safety in concealment, when they found both flight and resistance impossible. At short intervals a discharge of musketry, followed by loud vivas, told me that the hunters had been successful, and showed me in the most unmistakable manner what sort of treatment I had to expect at their hands if I should have the calamity to be discovered. Not the least painful part of the trial I had to endure was the apprehension that the next minute would put the sufficiency of my hidingplace to the test. The posture, too, in which I was obliged to remain was exhausting in the extreme. With my legs at least four feet apart, and my toes thrust into crevices in the sides of the well, I leaned the whole weight of my body on the pole; and so, without any possibility of resting myself by even the most trifling change of position, I awaited the issue of events. Two hours had already passed, and I was really beginning to fear that my strength would give way, when my landlady, who had kept away all this time because a party of guerillas were searching the neighbouring houses, appeared suddenly at the mouth of the well. "Señor Teodoro," said she, in that sort of frightened whisper which one hears as distinctly as words spoken in a voice of thunder-"Señor Teodoro, I have brought you some bread and a flask of wine, as I am sure you must need refreshment." I was about to thank her warmly for the welcome viands, when she interrupted me with "Waste no time in thanks, but recruit your strength, which will yet be sorely tried." She then lowered the bread and wine by means of the cord which had served to lower the pole, and, having done so, again withdrew. I had but just finished my loaf, and taken a draught from the wine-flask, when, without a moment's warning, a party of some thirty or forty guerillas came rushing down the passage into the yard. It appeared that now, having pretty well finished the bloody work they had undertaken, they had come with the determination of making a more rigorous search for me. They immediately dispersed themselves over the house, not forgetting to assure my hostess that they would, if they found that she had concealed me, wreak their vengeance on her. And now commenced a systematic hunt, in the course of which every part of the house was thoroughly examined. No place was left unexplored where it was possible for a man to lie concealed. While all this was going on just over my head, I could hear every word that was uttered almost as plainly as if I had been in the midst of them. Fear is a wonderful quickener of the senses; and my ears were so stimulated, as it were, by my intense anxiety to discover exactly what was passing that I lost not a word or a sound, and I could tell exactly what was going on as well as if I had seen every movement. Soon, however, to my great relief, the search seemed to have been completed, and with inexpressible satisfaction I heard the word given for their departure. I was already beginning to draw breath more freely, hoping that the peril had really passed, when the mouth of the well was darkened by the head and shoulders of a guerilla, who was peering into the depths of my place of refuge. Although I knew by actual experience that the eye could not penetrate so low, yet my blood seemed to rush back on my heart at the sight, and, literally, I dared not breathe, lest the slightest sound should betray me. Now, too, I offered an earnest appeal to the Almighty for protection, the horror and helplessness of my situation entirely overcoming the forgetfulness of Him with which the soldier but too often meets the dangers and trials incident to his calling. For a few seconds, which to me were hours of agonising suspense, the Spaniard strove to penetrate the deep shadow of the well, and then, remarking that he would make assurance doubly sure, he seized a large stone which lay near, and dashed it into the opening. I saw the missile lifted high above his head. I could remark even the compressed lip, the deep inspiration, and the knitted brow-and then, as I involuntarily closed my eyes and commended myself to God, the stone, with a tremendous splash, fell into the water at my feet. But although I escaped with life, I did not escape without injury. In its descent, the missile just grazed my temple, inflicting a iung, but happily superficial wound. I had nerve enough, however, not to cry out, and, what was of equal importance, strength of boly enough not to give way under this additional trial of my powers of physical endurance. For a moment I feared that I must have dropped, for my brain swam, and a deadly faintness seized me; but the pain of my wound prevented me from losing consciousness, and I was roused to fresh exertion by hearing the last of the guerillas depart. I then ventured to move, and, making a fresh appeal to my wine-flask, prepared myself to remain, if necessary, some time longer in my painful position. Happily I was not put to the trial. Relief was close at hand. My comrades from a neighbouring camp turned the tables on the Spaniards. It was now the turn of the guerillas to be hunted down and shot in cold blood; and so enraged were the French that they were with difficulty restrained from wreaking their vengeance, not only on the guerillas, but also on the townsfolk, who were accused of having connived at, if they had not actually assisted in, the attack. My protectress, therefore, was not at all sorry to have so good a voucher as to the friendly part she had played in the affair as was afforded her by my presence; and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I thus repaid, in some small degree, the devotedness with which she had served me. Not that I could either say or do anything to protect her from the insults and violence to which her countrymen were exposed; for the intense excitement I had undergone, coupled with the bodily exhaustion consequent on so many hours of painful exertion, now that the danger was over, proved too much for me, and nature fairly gave way. On being hauled up, I swooned in the arms of my deliveress, and the good lady had to tell her own story. As for me, I was roused from one fainting fit only to fall into another; and when I recovered entire consciousness, many days after, I found myself prostrate from an attack of brain fever the not unnatural result of all that I had undergone. I had been carried insensible to the convent, and it was long ere I could crawl from it to the town. When I did so, my first visit, of course, was to my kind hostess. Alas! the house had been closed for some days, and its mistress had gone none could tell me where. But I had little time for vain regrets. I was soon well enough to set out for my regiment, which, during my sickness, had been sent on active service. Such, however, was my escape from death. I cannot look back on the incident without the deepest emotion, or without feeling that if all men are bound to be ready for their great change, the soldier has double reasons to be so, seeing that he carries, as it were, his life continually in his hand. AN OLD LETTER. SALUTE you with grace, mercy and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ. I heard, with grief, of your great danger of perishing by the sea, but of your merciful deliverance, with joy. Sure I am, brother, Satan will leave no stone unrolled, as the proverb is, to roll you off your Rock, or, at least, to shake and unsettle you: for at the same time the mouths of wicked men were opened in hard speeches against you, by land, and the prince of the power of the air was angry with you, by sea. See, then, how much you are obliged to that malicious murderer, who would beat you with two rods at one time; but, blessed be God, his arm is short: if the sea and winds would have obeyed him, you had never come to land. Thank your God, who saith, "I have the keys of hell and of death." "I kill and make alive." "The Lord bringeth down to the grave, and bringeth up." If Satan were jailer, and had the keys of death and of the grave, they should be stored with more prisoners. You were knocking at these black gates, and found the doors shut; and we do all welcome you back again. I trust you know it is not for nothing that you are sent to us again: the Lord knew you had forgotten something that was necessary for your journey; that your armour was not as yet thick enough against the stroke of death. Now, in the strength of Jesus, dispatch your business; that debt is not forgiven, but deferred death hath not bidden you farewell, but hath only left you for a short season. End your journey, ere the night come upon you; have all in readiness against the time that you must fall through that black and impetuous Jordan; and Jesus, Jesus, who knoweth both these depths and the rock and all the coasts, be your Pilot; the last tide will not wait for you one moment; if you forget anything, when your sea is full, and your foot in that ship, there is no returning again to fetch it. What you do amiss in your life to-day, you may amend to-morrow; for as many suns as God maketh to arise upon you, you have as many new lives. But you can die but once; and if you mar that business, you cannot come back to mend that piece of work again. No man sinneth twice in dying ill; as we die but once, so we die but ill or well once. You see how the number of your months is written in God's book; and as one of the Lord's hirelings, you must work till the shadow of the evening come upon you, and you shall run out your glass even to the last grain of sand. Fulfil your course with joy; for we take nothing to the grave with us, but a good or evil conscience. And although the sky clear after this storm, yet clouds will engender another. Samuel Rutherford, nothing very much more delightful than to hear what their mother could find to tell. At first there was a discussion as to what should be the subject; should it be a tale of long ago, or one of the familiar Scripture historics which none of them ever found dull or wearisome? Presently Ellen said, "Let mother choose," and all were quickly agreed; for this was one of the happy homes wherein the example of a Christian father and mother burns far too brightly to admit of the constant bickering and quarrelling to be heard in some families. Mrs. Harding looked into the glowing coals a moment, and then, as if she had found her subject there, said, "I will tell you a story which was told to me when I was a child. It is about my own grandfather, your great-grandfather." "That is great-grandmother's picture upstairs," remarked Alfred. "She is dressed in a funny way, and has long mittens on her arms." "Yes," said Mrs. Harding; "for people wore their clothes cut after a very different fashion to ours of the present day. I feel sure it was in much such a dress as you see in the picture of her that your greatgrandmother sat reading to herself one evening, long, long years ago, when her husband ordered her to burn her Bible." "Burn her Bible!" cried Lucy. "Why, was not that very wrong?" "And was not your grandfather a good man, mother?" added Ellen. "He became so, my children-from the evening of which I am going to tell you, he was a different creature. But in his younger days my grandfather was one of those unhappy men who seemed to think there is something clever and superior in saying they 'do not believe in anything;' believe neither in heaven nor hell; believe neither in God nor His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. When I tell you this, you will not wonder that he had no love for God's Word, and that if he saw his wife reading it, he grew very angry. But she said she had never seen him so much enraged against the Bible as he was on that evening when, in Divine mercy, he was awakened to see his sin. He was just recovering from a trying illness, and needed. much nursing and care; he was irritable too, and fretful, as many invalids are. Your great-grandmother had given him his medicine and food, and seeing him, as she thought, sleeping quietly in his chair by the fire, she placed herself opposite him, and laying her large Bible on her knee, was soon absorbed in its contents. How long it was she did not fully know, but it seemed a short while until she heard him mutter an angry oath, and starting forward, point to the glowing fire. "Burn it!' he cried. Do you hear me, Mary? Throw that book of yours into the flames, for I loathe the very sight of it! It fills the minds of silly women with impossible stories, and I'll not have it in my house.' "At first she scarcely believed him serious, and tried |