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What of the night, watchman ?
What of the night?
No land yet-all's right.”
Danger may be
Securest to thee.
How-gains the leak so fast ?
Clear out the hold,
Heave out the gold !
Now the ship rights;
Lo, the red lights.
Slacken not sail yet
At inlet or island,
Straight for the high land ;
Cut through the foam,
Heaven is thy home.
THE SLATE QUARRY.
Some years ago, a party of friends went to visit Lake Keswick, in the north of England. They took ponies, and went to see a rock at some distance, from which slates are dug out. When they arrived, a young lad was called to hold the ponies, and he told the party that many workmen lived all the week long in the rock above, and only went home for Sunday. The lad was asked if accidents often took place in the rockworks.
The boy turned pale, and in a low voice said, “ Father was killed there last Christmas. He was killed in trying to save my brother. There was a fall of slate in the quarry, and father thought it had killed Jack; then, while trying to get him out, some more slate fell on father's head.”
Much more of this sad tale was soon heard from those who lived near the home of Howard's widow.
A boy, ten years old, was with his father while at work in the slate quarry one Saturday afternoon. There was a deep pool of water in the rocks above them. Howard was cutting blocks of slate just hurled down by blasting with gunpowder. His boy Jack had climbed up to a high ledge in the mine to watch the great heaps of slate that were still slowly slipping down towards the place where his father was at work.
While thus looking about, Jack thought he saw some more slate crack, and begin to inove in the rock above. He called to his father, to warn him of danger, but the father was hard at work, and did not hear the voice.
"Father !” cried the boy again; but still his father did not hear. Jack saw the crack grow wider, and that a great mass of slate was just ready to fall on his father's head. · There was no time to lose; the boy leapt down from the ledge of rock he stood upon, to rush towards his father, who then looked up, and Jack, quite out of breath, pointed to the cause of danger. His father sprang back, but before Jack could reach him the whole mass fell with a loud crash.
When the thick cloud of dust had passed away, the father looked round for little Jack. He was nowhere to be seen : heaps of slate seemed to fill the place where he had been standing. “Jack !" called the father again and again ; but all was silent. He tried to move the
masses of slate, and other workmen who heard the crash ran to help him.
Whilst doing this, one of the men called out, “Howard, take care!" The warning came too late—a huge crag of slate fell on Jack's father. In an instant he lay crushed beneath its weight. There was light enough to see at once that all was over, and the men stood round in awe-struck silence.
At last one man said, "Where is Jack?-he may not be killed, we will not give him up. One of us must go and tell Howard's wife, and prepare her for his being taken home. Do you go, John-she knows you best; and we will see what can be done for the lad, if he is still alive."
John left the mine, and was soon at the open door of Howard's cottage in the vale below. The father's armchair stood by the bright fireside, ready for his return home that Saturday night, and his wife was busy making their home look clean and nice for a happy Sunday. John went in—no words were needed to tell of bad news. The wife at once knew that her husband was hurt, and was rushing out to see the worst, when John held her back and said she must not go, for the men would soon bring her husband home. He did not speak of Jack, for while there was yet any hope for the child, John would not add to her great grief.
Where was little Jack? When the great mass of slate fell, he was below the place where his father was working, and under the shelter of a rock which kept the slate from falling on him, but it shut him up on every side.
At first this did not trouble him; his mind was taken up with hope and joy, för he thought his father was safe. But soon his heart sank within him, for it seemed as if he were buried alive. He had no food or light, and no help of any kind-he was quite alone.
“But I am not lost," was the thought of poor little Jack; “for mother and I have often read that we are never alone-God is with me even here, and He will
take care of me.” Then he prayed for his father, and sat down on the dry rock, to wait for what might come to him. He thought of the sparrows, and that God takes care of them, and "will much more take care of us." Jack could not tell how long he had sat in darkness, for minutes seem like hours at such times. Byand-by he felt his feet getting wet. He stooped down to feel, and his fingers dipped into some water! It was very strange, for he had not seen any water near that place. Then he felt the water coming higher up his feet—to his ankles, and slowly to his legs. He sprang up in terror. He knew there was a pool of water in the mine above him, and perhaps the fresh cracks in the slate had let the water run down into his small cave. He stood still, but alas ! there was no mistake; he was sure that he felt the water creeping up his legs. “Is there no help for me!" was the cry of the poor boy. He tried to scramble higher up in the cave, and felt with his hands all over the rocky roof in hopes of finding some way for escape; but in vain. The water rose up to his waist-his hands could scarcely hold on to the rock; he grew faint. “Good-bye, mother!" were the last words, as his hands loosed their hold. He was just sinking into the dark waters, when the light of a lamp shone over him. Kind hands were stretched out to help him, kind voices reached his ear—little Jack was saved!
A second time that day the friends of Howard went sadly into his cottage, bearing the pale, cold form of his child to be laid on the mother's lap.
She was told how Jack had tried to save his father, and now bent over her boy to listen for some sign of life. He did not speak or move, but she thought he breathed. She held his cold hands to her bosom, and laid her cheek upon his, to bring back its warmth and colour. She felt his head move_his eyes opened, and he saw her! The eyes closed again, and he fell into a deep sleep.
Many long days had to pass before Jack could tell
what he had gone through in that dark cave, and very gently he was told of his father's death. It was a shock he could hardly bear; but the widowed mother strove, in her deepest grief, to make her children feel “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
THE VAUDOIS TEACHER.
JOHN G. WHITTIER. The manner in which the Waldenses disseminated their principles among the Catholics, was. by carrying with them a box of trinkets or articles of dress. Having entered the houses of the gentry, and disposed of some of their goods, they intimated that they had inestimable jewels, and would then present their purchasers with a Bible or Testament.] Oi, lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and
rareThe richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's
queen might wear; And my pearls are as pure as thine own fair neck, with
whose radiant light they vie, I have brought them with me a weary way,—will my
gentle lady buy? And the lady smiled on the worn old man, through the
dark and clustering curls, Which veiled her brow, as she bent to view his silks
and glittering pearls; And she placed their price in the old man's hand, and
lightly turn'd away, But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call—"My
gentle lady, stay!" “Oh, lady fair, I have yet a gem, which a purer lustre
flings, Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown on the
lofty brow of kings