MARGARET AND THE MINISTER.

Wlock spions, what marvellous condiments, "all to please and she furious taste!" Vory wonderful some of these have seemed a 15 who havn bon permitted to taste of them for the first time,- ES stootor show, more wonderful than pleasant. There is a mat Compok tale in the Cornish dialect illustrating this; but “Laurie T Otrant Phorubin, was in the habit of telling a similar story, a Sextas ppretteten me the olden time. It was one market day. Margaret, 1witte id a mong hbouring farmer, had come into the market; and, in add for the found at home, geese, ete, brought a small basket of eggs a far and to the umidor Having sold her load of merchandise, she toi dox way to the man, and after inquiring how the wife and all the ba worn, de and, "I has brought ye twa or three fresh eggs for the g wies to help how m makone year bannocks." The present was kin torerved and bong donor prue, the good woman was invited to stop st *" de said: “I dinna ken to behave at great

from

"pa, Mover med," said the minister, " only you just do s Pry wood very simple, and good and natural advice. Act. Margater was dowa de sabiex Phe minister was old, his hand shook, fit lola berxreted by a seed of valsy. In conveying the spoon ow 1, Ya sin buig unsteady, was apt to spill; Ya diecko & was his habit, old-world like, D levet e de ce of his waistcoat, just under hi fova ge eva à às so she pinned the other end. webg kumahui dan, under her chin. She watche

CONCERNING THE GARDEN OF PARABLE.

OR if we have spoken of the City of Proverb, as truly may we speak of the Garden of Parable; and the reason for this distinction is, we think, obvious. City and Garden are both ways of wisdom, we love them both; but in proverbs we find more of the wisdom of common sense, whilst in parable we have the wisdom of fancy and imagination; they are both the wisdom of life. In proverb we have human life in homely vesture, walking the earth; in parable we have human life in the heavens. and the air. Or, to change the figure, in proverbs wisdom is on its legs; n parables, on its wings. So we say we meet with proverbs as the builders of cities, with parables as the planters of gardens. In the Gospels, and in the discourses of our Lord, we seem to be admitted into very kingdom of parable. It is as if every part of the house should begin to repeat the truths committed to it in type and representation nd symbol. There is a fine passage in which that great master of imile, Henry Ward Beecher, follows out this truth-" When the lowest tone of the building says, in the silence of the night, Other foundations. an no man lay;' and the corner-stone catches the word, 'Christ is the hief corner-stone;' and the door adds, 'I am the door;' and the taper, urning by the bedside, streams up to say, 'Christ is the light of the orld;' then, as you gaze upon the faces of your sleeping children, they eflect from their sweetly slumbering faces the words of Christ, 'Except e become as little children.' Parents of the household are reminded,. y the honours they claim, of Him who calls Himself their Father and. eir Mother. The tears of children, and your anxiety to soothe them,. re only a feeble analogy of Him who has promised to wipe off all ears from all faces.' By night, from your window, every star hails ou, but chiefest 'the bright and morning star.' By-and-by, flaming om the east, the flood of morning bathes your dwelling, and calls you orth to the cares of the day; then you are reminded that God is the in, and that heaven is bright with His presence. As you sit down › the table, the loaf whispers, as you break it, 'Broken for you,' and e wheat of the loaf sighs, Bruised for you;' the water that quenches our thirst says, 'I am the water of life;' and if wash your your hands u call to mind the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, or your et, He washed His disciples' feet.' The roof of your dwelling has utterance, and bids you look for the day when God's house shall ceive its top-stone. Every action and operation of the household, and ordinary life-the grinding at the mill, the leavening of the dough, e cultivation of the vineyard, the tillage of the field and the garden, d every operation of pastoral life-go forth, what can you see that

83

you

82

MARGARET AND THE MINISTER.

What spices, what marvellous condiments, "all to please and sate the curious taste!" Very wonderful some of these have seemed to those who have been permitted to taste of them for the first time,-as several stories show,-more wonderful than pleasant. There is a humorous Cornish tale in the Cornish dialect illustrating this; but "Laurie Todd," or Grant Thornburn, was in the habit of telling a similar story, a Scottish experience in the olden time. It was one market day. Margaret, the wife of a neighbouring farmer, had come into the market; and, in addition to her load of hens, geese, etc., brought a small basket of eggs as a present to the minister. Having sold her load of merchandise, she took her way to the manse, and after inquiring how the wife and all the bairns were, she said, "I hae brought ye twa or three fresh eggs for the gude wife, to help her in making your bannocks." The present was kindly received, and being dinner time, the good woman was invited to stop and eat her kail. "Nae, nae!" she said; "I dinna ken to behave at great folks' table." "Oh, never mind," said the minister, " only you just do as you see we do." This seemed very simple, and good and natural advice. So Margaret sat down at table. The minister was old, his hand shook, for he had been visited by a stroke of palsy. In conveying the spoon from the dish to his mouth, his arm being unsteady, was apt to spill; to prevent it from going on his clothes, it was his habit, old-world like, tie one end of the table-cloth to the top of his waistcoat, just under his chin. Margaret's keen eye took in this, so she pinned the other end c the table-cloth to a strong homespun shawl, under her chin. She watched every move. It was a time when condiments were not much knowi in farm-houses among the hills. The minister deposited a quantity c mustard on the side of his plate. Margaret, not exactly measuring proportion the minister had taken, conveyed a spoonful of mustard to h mouth. It soon began to operate. She had never seen mustard, a knew not what it meant, only it seemed to her that she was bewitche She was crazy with pain; to spit upon the carpet would have bee indeed a sin. At this moment the girl, Janet, opened the door, bringi in some clean plates. The unhappy woman at once sprang up, upset t girl, plates and all, swept the table of its contents, upset the minister to the crash of the battle behind her added speed to her flight, as to a retreati warrior; she was pulling the minister after her, who had been fast at t other end of the table; he was drawn on until the pins gave way, an then away flew Margaret,-a pretty story to tell when she got that nig- " to her farm among the hills. The minister received no more donati of eggs. I have no doubt, had you quoted to her our proverb, “ sends meat, but the devil sends cooks," it would have received a very war assent. But a whole troop of proverbs remain behind, and might quoted concerning this continent of meat and drink upon which we hir entered.

CONCERNING THE GARDEN OF PARABLE.

OR if we have spoken of the City of Proverb, as truly may we speak of the Garden of Parable; and the reason for this distinction is, we think, obvious. City and Garden are both ways of wisdom, we love them I both; but in proverbs we find more of the wisdom of common sense, whilst in parable we have the wisdom of fancy and imagination; they are both the wisdom of life. In proverb we have human life in homely vesture, walking the earth; in parable we have human life in the heavens. and the air. Or, to change the figure, in proverbs wisdom is on its legs; in parables, on its wings. So we say we meet with proverbs as the builders of cities, with parables as the planters of gardens. In the Gospels, and in the discourses of our Lord, we seem to be admitted into a very kingdom of parable. It is as if every part of the house should begin to repeat the truths committed to it in type and representation and symbol. There is a fine passage in which that great master of simile, Henry Ward Beecher, follows out this truth-" When the lowest stone of the building says, in the silence of the night, Other foundations an no man lay;' and the corner-stone catches the word, 'Christ is the hief corner-stone;' and the door adds, 'I am the door;' and the taper, burning by the bedside, streams up to say, 'Christ is the light of the vorld;' then, as you gaze upon the faces of your sleeping children, they. eflect from their sweetly slumbering faces the words of Christ, 'Except e become as little children.' Parents of the household are reminded,. y the honours they claim, of Him who calls Himself their Father and. heir Mother. The tears of children, and your anxiety to soothe them,. re only a feeble analogy of Him who has promised to wipe off all ears from all faces.' By night, from your window, every star hails

but chiefest the bright and morning star.' By-and-by, flaming om the east, the flood of morning bathes your dwelling, and calls you. rth to the cares of the day; then you are reminded that God is the and that heaven is bright with His presence. As you sit down the table, the loaf whispers, as you break it, 'Broken for you,' and e wheat of the loaf sighs, Bruised for you;' the water that quenches ur thirst says, 'I am the water of life;' and if you wash your hands

in,

call to mind the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, or your t, He washed His disciples' feet.' The roof of your dwelling has utterance, and bids you look for the day when God's house shall eive its top-stone. Every action and operation of the household, and ordinary life-the grinding at the mill, the leavening of the dough, , cultivation of the vineyard, the tillage of the field and the garden, 1 every operation of pastoral life-go forth, what can you see that

82

folks' table."

MARGARET AND THE MINISTER.

What spices, what marvellous condiments, "all to please and sate the curious taste!" Very wonderful some of these have seemed to those who have been permitted to taste of them for the first time, as several stories show, more wonderful than pleasant. There is a humorous Cornish tale in the Cornish dialect illustrating this; but "Laurie Todd,” or Grant Thornburn, was in the habit of telling a similar story, a Scottish experience in the olden time. It was one market day. Margaret, the wife of a neighbouring farmer, had come into the market; and, in addition to her load of hens, geese, etc., brought a small basket of eggs as a present to the minister. Having sold her load of merchandise, she took her way to the manse, and after inquiring how the wife and all the bairns were, she said, "I hae brought ye twa or three fresh eggs for the gude wife, to help her in making your bannocks." The present was kindly received, and being dinner time, the good woman was invited to stop and eat her kail. “Nae, nae!” she said; "I dinna ken to behave at great "Oh, never mind," said the minister, " only you just do as you see we do." This seemed very simple, and good and natural advice. So Margaret sat down at table. The minister was old, his hand shook, for he had been visited by a stroke of palsy. In conveying the spoon from the dish to his mouth, his arm being unsteady, was apt to spill; to prevent it from going on his clothes, it was his habit, old-world like, to tie one end of the table-cloth to the top of his waistcoat, just under his chin. Margaret's keen eye took in this, so she pinned the other end of the table-cloth to a strong homespun shawl, under her chin. She watched every move. It was a time when condiments were not much known in farm-houses among the hills. The minister deposited a quantity of mustard on the side of his plate. Margaret, not exactly measuring the proportion the minister had taken, conveyed a spoonful of mustard to her mouth. It soon began to operate. She had never seen mustard, and knew not what it meant, only it seemed to her that she was bewitched. She was crazy with pain; to spit upon the carpet would have been indeed a sin. At this moment the girl, Janet, opened the door, bringing in some clean plates. The unhappy woman at once sprang up, upset the girl, plates and all, swept the table of its contents, upset the minister too; the crash of the battle behind her added speed to her flight, as to a retreating warrior; she was pulling the minister after her, who had been fast at the other end of the table; he was drawn on until the pins gave way, and then away flew Margaret,-a pretty story to tell when she got that night to her farm among the hills. The minister received no more donations of eggs. I have no doubt, had you quoted to her our proverb, "God sends meat, but the devil sends cooks," it would have received a very warm assent. But a whole troop of proverbs remain behind, and might be quoted concerning this continent of meat and drink upon which we have entered.