CHAPTER I. THE COTTAGE READING. Ir is the close of a December day,-the cheerful fire burns brightly on the household hearth,-the shutters are closed,—the wind sounds dismally from without,while all tells of comfort within. The family at the village hall will surely not break the circle round the hearth to-night. Yes there is one who will be absent; the mother of the assembled group. The lamp in her dressing-room has long been burning, visible from the distant road, like a solitary star amidst the surrounding gloom. It is now seven o'clock; the lantern is lighted and one of the family ready as a companion. The evening may look uninviting, but the thoughts of the way-farer are at the goal, and that is bright beyond all of earth, for the light that illumines the path of the just with its ever-increasing brightness, is borne by her in the torch of the Living Word; and the minds of the ignorant, the hearts of the poor, are waiting "to rejoice in that light." In the largest room in the village-street, the village poor are assembling. There are the old and young, the B labourer from his team or plough,—the young man, too old in years but not in knowledge for the infants' school, and the less ignorant though not less thoughtless village girls. The company is not large, but each individual is an immortal being;-upon his knowledge of Jesus Christ whom God hath sent, depends his eternal life; yet many are unable and others unwilling to search for themselves the record which God hath given us. A simple form of prayer is used-the poor reverently stand or kneel. A portion of the word of life is read, and simply explained. No search is made after a variety of ideas; the one desire and object is to point to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world; and to place before the sinner's heart its lost and hopeless state without him,-its full salvation in him. A few pages from the Pilgrim's Progress (of which inimitable allegory the poor never weary) are then read. Cowper's hymn, beginning, "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds," and a short prayer, close the simple service, never exceeding an hour and a half in length. The same hymn being generally chosen, the memories of those assembled gradually retain the words, and one after another the voices of the poor unlettered labourers rise in unison as they recollect the sweet and often-repeated strain. A few kind words are spoken as one by one the dispersing group turn to meet the look of recognition awaiting them, and to give their own token of respect. The lantern is again lighted the hill climbed, the fireside reached, and the day closes with the blessing of that God who hath promised one to those who "consider the poor and needy." The ignorance of this village population was very great. Their minister was not resident among them. Sunday after Sunday would sometimes pass, and the : 66 door of the sanctuary was unopened ;-their hearts were alienated from it, and when the service was performed, comparatively few cared to attend. There was no helpful bond of habit binding the indifferent to the hallowed spot where, "being in the way," the Lord might meet with them. The finished revelation of God's word was among them, but it was to them, “No open vision," rather, a sealed book." "For the Lord hath poured out upon you the spirit of deep sleep, and hath closed your eyes: the prophets and your rulers, the seers hath He covered. And the vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed, which men deliver to one that is learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee and he saith, I cannot; for it is sealed. And the book is delivered to him that is not learned, saying, Read this I pray thee: and he saith, I am not learned." How often, in teaching the children of the poor to read, are we opening for them the only channel which after-circumstances will not close, but through which each one may obtain for himself the living water to supply his need! "My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass." If there be one doctrine of the word of truth ceaselessly evidenced to the observant eye, it is this, -the silent, vivifying influence of that word. How clearly does it bear the trace of proceeding from the same creative hand which framed the material universe. In looking upon the budding groves and green enamelled verdure of the spring, who would turn back to dwell upon the drops of life-giving moisture which, through less genial months, have fallen? Yet it was these that ministered silently and out of sight to the springing germs of vegetation,-not less efficacious than |