The Little Gleaner Part 22

One Sunday she said, "How I should love to get to chapel! If I ever went again, I should like to be baptized; but I do not think I shall have strength to go any more. No; Jesus is going to take me to Himself. How kind of Him! Don't you think so? I do."

On November 26th, being her eldest sister's birthday, she wished us to get a card for her. One being selected with the words, "The Lord will bless His people with peace," she said, "Yes, that is the peace Mr. Hull spoke of at St. Ives, and G.o.d has given me that peace."

In presenting the card, she said to her sister, "Take it from me. It will be the last present I shall give you on your birthday. Before another I shall be in heaven.

"Yes, I shall soon be landed On yonder sh.o.r.es of bliss; There, with my powers expanded, Shall dwell where Jesus is."

During the night she remarked, "How good Jesus is in taking me away so gently! I thought, after all I have done and said, I should suffer much more. My sufferings are nothing to what Christ suffered on the cross."

The next day Mr. Oldfield came, and she wished him to read Psalm ciii.--"Bless the Lord, O my soul"--and the hymn commencing, "My hope is built on nothing less." He commented on the last verse, and spoke of the robe prepared for her, and the glory that awaited her in heaven.

On Monday, November 28th, with deep feeling, she said--

"E'er since by faith I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die."

One day, her doctor said he thought her a little better. When she was told, she burst into tears, and said, "Oh, I do not want to get better!

Dear Jesus, do come and take me!

"Weary of earth, myself, and sin, Dear Jesus, set me free!

And to Thy glory take me in, For there I long to be."

Another time she said, "I think I shall soon reach my journey's end now.

Won't it be nice when my last day comes? I did not think I should be taken first, but I do now. I wonder who will be the next? Jesus knows. I should like to have on my tombstone, 'To depart and be with Christ is far better,' and I hope Mr. Oldfield will bury me; but it little matters about my body. I shall be singing in heaven when they are putting my poor body in the grave."

The last time Mr. Oldfield visited her she could say but very little to him, her cough being so incessant. He read Psalms cxv. and cxvi., and remarked, "The heathen have no G.o.d to cry to in their affliction, but you have. What a mercy!

"When your poor, lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave, Then, in a n.o.bler, sweeter song, You'll sing His power to save.

"You have had a foretaste of heaven here, haven't you?" She answered, "Yes, I have."

At times her sufferings seemed more than she knew how to bear, and caused her to become impatient; but afterwards she would express much sorrow for it, and beg earnestly of the Lord to forgive her, and enable her to bear all He should see fit to lay upon her, adding, "My sufferings are nothing to what Christ suffered."

On Sunday, December 18th, she said but little during the day, but in the evening she wished the hundredth Psalm to be read, and the hymn, "Oh, bless the Lord, my soul."

Between eleven and twelve o'clock at night she said to her sisters, "I think I shall go to-night. Yes, I feel sure I shall." They asked her if she still felt happy, and if Jesus was precious. She answered, "Yes!

yes!

"My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus' blood and righteousness."

Turning to them, she said, "Good-bye, good-bye. Say 'Good-bye' to all for me. I am going home! home! home! I am going home!"

She then fell asleep, to awake in a happier world, "where the inhabitant shall no more say, I am sick; and where they that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity."

She was interred at G.o.dmanchester on December 26th, 1887, many of the friends and scholars of the Sunday School being present.

Truly, "the memory of the just is blessed."

J. S.

BIBLE SUBJECTS FOR EACH SUNDAY IN APRIL.

April 1. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 1.

April 8. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 2.

April 15. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 21.

April 22. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 22.

April 29. Commit to memory Psa. xciv. 23.

A CHINAMAN applied for members.h.i.+p in a San Francis...o...b..ptist Church. In answer to the question, "How he found Jesus?" he is reported to have answered, "I no find Jesus at all; He find me." There is a great deal of theology as well as evidence of religion in his answer.

A FAMOUS DOG.

In 1779, a young dog, who apparently had no master, came, no one knew how, to Caen, France, and met there a regiment of grenadiers starting for Italy. Urged on, apparently by destiny, he followed them. He was, to all appearance, a common street cur, dirty and ugly, but he had such a bright expression and seemed so intelligent that they did not hesitate to take him.

His new companions forced him to act as sentinel, to obey orders, to keep step, to become accustomed to the sound of fire-arms, to obey roll call, and all other duties the soldiers were called upon to perform. He received and ate his rations with them, and lived in every respect as his regiment was commanded to do.

In going to Italy, Moustache crossed St. Bernard, at the cost of unknown hards.h.i.+ps, and encamped with the regiment above Alexandria. It was here that he was to accomplish his first great feat of arms. A detachment of Austrians, hidden in the Valley of Balbo, advanced in the night to surprise the grenadiers, and was heard by this vigilant dog as he was making his rounds. The soldiers were awakened by his barking. In a moment every one was on foot, and the enemy dislodged. To reward Moustache, the colonel had his name inscribed on the regimental roll, and ordered that he should have every day the ration of a soldier. He ordered that there should be put on his neck a collar bearing the name of the regiment, and the barber was ordered to wash and comb him every week.

Some time afterwards there was a slight engagement, and Moustache conducted himself very bravely. He here received his first wound--a bayonet thrust in the shoulder. It must be said here that Moustache was never wounded except in front.

About this time he quarrelled with the grenadiers and deserted, because they had left him tied in the garrison. Taking refuge with a company of cha.s.seurs, he saw a disguised Austrian spy enter the French camp.

Moustache, forgetting the insult he had received, welcomed the stranger by springing at his throat with much fierceness. This action astonished all at first, but they had time for reflection, and then remembered the sagacity of the faithful dog. The stranger was arrested, searched, and found to be a spy.

Moustache continued the series of his exploits. At the battle of Austerlitz, seeing the colour-bearer surrounded by enemies, he flew to his rescue, defended him as well as he could, and when the soldier fell, pierced with bullets, enveloped in his colours, Moustache, seizing with his teeth that part of the glorious flag which he could get, fairly flew past the enemy, and brought back to his company the blood-stained remnants. It must be said here that a charge of musketry had taken off one of his legs. This saving of the flag brought him merited honour.

They took off the collar he wore, and Marshal Lannes ordered that they should put on him a red ribbon, with a copper medal, bearing this inscription on one side--"He lost a leg at the battle of Austerlitz, and saved the colours of his regiment." On the other side it read--"Moustache should be loved and honoured as a brave French dog."

As it was easy to recognise him by his ribbon and medal, they decided that, in whatever regiment he should present himself, he should receive the portion of a soldier.

He took part yet in several battles, and among others that of Essling (1809). He made with the dragoons two campaigns, and the brave dog fought every time he had the opportunity. He always walked in front on the alert, barking when he heard any noise, and could not find out the cause. In the Sierra Morena mountains, he brought back to camp the horse of a dragoon who had been killed. It is said that at several times he showed this same act of intelligence.

He made his last campaign with the artillery, and was killed at the battle of Badajoz, on March 11th, 1811, at the age of twelve years. They buried him on the spot where he fell, with his medal and his ribbon. On the stone which served as his monument they wrote--"Here lies Moustache." These simple words are more eloquent than the most pompous epitaph.

FLESH-EATING PLANTS.