The next act describes the results of this voyage, the wreck, the imprisonment by Count Guy, and the deliverance by William of Normandy, by which means Harold becomes in name William's guest, but in reality his prisoner. Here is one of the finest passages in the drama, describing the manner in which Harold is driven to take the oath to support William's claim to England's crown. He tries to insert conditions; but William is remorseless, and Harold is urged with the threat, "thine 'ifs' will sear thine eyes out:" and at length the word is given and the oath taken.

But ah! on what?

"The holy bones of all the Canonized

From all the holiest shrines in Normandy."

Harold exclaims "Horrible !" and almost swoons with fright; when William, intensifying the horror a thousandfold, adds

"Ay, for thou hast sworn an oath

Which, if not kept, would make the hard earth rive
To the very devil's horns, the bright sky cleave

To the very feet of God, and send her hosts

Of injured Saints to scatter sparks of plague

Through all your cities, blast your infants, dash
The torch of war among your standing corn,

Dabble your hearths with your own blood.-Enough!
Thou wilt not break it."

Events now hasten apace. Edward dies. Harold returns to England, to war with the Northmen first, and then attack the invading Normans already landed under William at Pevensey Bay. The spirit of Harold is expresed in the words

"I shall die.

I die for England then, who lived for England.—
What nobler? Men must die.

I cannot fall into a falser world.

I have done no man wrong."

And his quick wit and accurate measure of the real forces against him are expressed in his address to Edith, concluding with his legacy to his country

"And this to England,

My legacy of war against the Pope,

From child to child, from Pope to Pope, from age to age,

Till the sea wash her level with her shores,

Or till the Pope be Christ's."

JOHN CLIFFORD.

HAVE YOU SEEN OUR ALMANACK FOR THE

NEW YEAR?

If not, look at the list of Contents in our Advertisement Sheet, and read what follows from the FREEMAN of Dec. 15.

"THE GENERAL BAPTIST ALMANACK, edited by Rev. John Clifford, M.A., is a marvel of cheapness. We venture to say that more information and good sense are given to the public for one penny here than anywhere else as far as we know."

GET IT, AND JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES.

What becomes of our Old Scholars?

Is a question repeatedly asked, and variously answered. One of the most forcible, cheering, and I will add inspiring replies to this inquiry it has been my lot to listen to was given at an "Old Scholars' Meeting" recently held in St. Mary's Gate, Derby. And yet only three days before that I heard the broad allegation earnestly advanced by an observer of acute intelligence in a northern town, "You have had the masses and lost them. They have been in your Sunday schools, and you have done your work so ill that they have slipped through your fingers, and are now, some of them, hostile sceptics, more of them godless, and still more stolidly indifferent to you and the gospel you preach." Nor could the charge be completely denied. It holds in it a large and painful measure of truth. Doubtless" the masses" have to a prodigious extent been in our Sunday schools, and through our bungling in part it is that they are now outside our churches, and aliens from our institutions.

But though the charge cannot be altogether denied, the Mary's Gate Meeting of Old Scholars demonstrated that facts exist of an opposite character, in such proportions and of such a nature as to warrant the largest hopefulness for our present workers, and stimulate to a cheerful zeal any who may be growing fainthearted because they do not see all the results they desire. Tickets had been issued to all the old scholars whose addresses could be found, at a considerable cost of labour and pains, and an overwhelmingly large company gathered, occupying nearly all the available tea-drinking space at St. Mary's Gate, and that is saying a great deal. Old scholars were present by cheering and grateful letters from Chicago, New York, the metropolis, and many other spots near and remote; and in person they attended from London, Stoke, Burton, Swadlincote, and all the region round about. And such was the joy felt in this reunion that one said to me, "I'd rather have given £20 than have missed it."

The chief, though not the only note sounded, was one of gratitude for the blessings of the Sunday school. Every speaker had his tale to tell of good obtained and increased, of faith in Christ commenced, of Christian friendship formed, and of joy and usefulness multiplied by the teaching of some now in heaven and others still toiling on in the same blessed work. It appeared that towns had received Councillors, Guardians, Members of School Boards and Burial Boards, and the like; and churches Deacons and Elders, Pastors and Missionaries, from the ranks of this school. Godliness had been promoted by the teachers' work, and it had proved itself, as of old, profitable for the life that now is and for that which is to come.

Many illustrations were given of the teaching that succeeds. It would be easy to paint the model teacher out of the materials supplied that night, if only one had canvass enough; but no feature would be more marked than that of a kind-hearted and personal interest in each scholar, expressed in numberless ways-the grip of the hand, as well as the wise word and special prayer. I have only space to add-"Sunday school teachers," arrange for an "Old Scholars' " Meeting forthwith. It

will do them good, and you also; and above all take care, as our Mary's Gate friends did, to lay hold of those who have slipped through your hands, and are now living without the cheering grace and strengthening love of God.

It is in the Sunday school, I am more and more convinced, the victory over evil has to be won; it is in the school the triumph over Ritualism and Romanism, scepticism and godlessness, will be secured. Therefore, what thine hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might of head and heart, and of will; and God, even your own God, will bless JOHN CLIFFORD. you.

Our Magazine for

1877.

A CORRESPONDENT writes-"A short time since I was a casual hearer in one of our largest town congregations. It was the first Sunday in the month, and the minister in giving out the notices announced that the Magazine was to hand; yea, more, he gave in brief the topics of the leading articles. Such an example is worth copying, and if continued (as in this case I hear it is) throughout the year, must increase the interest of the people in all our denominational work."

66

May I append to this note the recent words of the Freeman of Dec. 15th, that the General Baptist Magazine REFLECTS THE GREATEST CREDIT ON THE EDITOR, AND IS SECOND TO NONE OF OUR DENOMINATIONAL PUBLICATIONS?"

We are still a little below the average of FIVE THOUSAND per month. This figure must be reached. Until it is we cannot be sure that every one of the whole brotherhood sees the " organ " of our associated life. Starting as I do to-day my eighth year in this Editorial Chair, let me crave even more of your generous aid than I have yet had. Make the Mag. known. Introduce it. Give a copy or two of January away as samples. Mention it from the Pulpit, and at the Church Meetings. Advertise it in the Schools. Discuss it over the Tea-Table. Show its defects and excellencies; denounce it-anything rather than let it alone. Take special care of new comers. Every year brings new members into our churches, or should do. Fresh recruits join the army, and they need to be brought into full sympathy with the work we are doing, the principles we teach, and the enthusiasms that inspire us. Every new soldier should be enrolled on our list of readers.

Our work is for all the Churches, for all the Pastors and Preachers, Teachers and Visitors, Deacons and Elders. We seek to nourish the spiritual life, develop the power, and increase the usefulness of all.

Come with us, and we will, God blessing us, do you good.

THE IRON RULE OF PERFECTION

Must never be departed from, hard as it may be to attain, seldom as it is ever reached; but in this, as in other things, the higher the standard, and the more earnest the endeavour, the more satisfactory will be the present result.

Five in the Pea-shell.

FOR OUR YOUNG FOLKS.

FIVE peas sat in a pea-shell. They were green, and the shell was green. Therefore they thought that the whole world was green—in which opinion they were about right. The shell grew, and the peas grew too. They could accommodate themselves very well in their narrow house, and sat very happily together, all five in a row. The sun shone outside and warmed the shell. The rain made it so clear that you could see through it. It was warm and pleasant in there, clear by day and dark by night, just as it should be. The five peas grew very fast, and became more intelligent the older they were.

"Shall I always be compelled to sit here?" said one of the peas; really am afraid that I shall get hard from sitting constantly. I do believe strange things are going on outside of our shell as well as in here."

Weeks passed on, and the peas became yellow, and the shell grew yellow too. "All the world is yellow!" said they. And we cannot blame them, under the circumstances, for the exclamation.

One day their house was struck as if by lightning. They were torn off by somebody's hand, and were put into a coat pocket which had been nearly filled with peas.

"Now there is going to be an end of us," they sighed one to another, and began to prepare themselves for the change. "But if we live, I would like to hear from the one who goes the farthest."

"It will soon be over with us all," said the smallest; but the largest one replied, "Let come what will, I am ready."

Knack! the shell burst, and all five rolled out in the bright sunshine. Soon they lay in a little boy's hand. He held them fast, and said they would be excellent for his little gun. Almost immediately they were rolled down the barrel of his shot-gun. Out again they went into the wide world.

"Now I am flying out into the world! Catch me if you can!" So said one, and he was very soon out of sight.

The second one said, "I am going to fly up into the sun. He is a charming shell, and would be just about large enough for me," and off he flew.

"Wherever we go, we are going to bed," said two others. And they hit the roof of a great stone house, and rolled down on the ground.

"I am going to make the best of my lot," said the last one. And it went high up; but came down against the balcony window of an old house, and caught there in a little tuft of moss. The moss closed up, and there lay the pea. Everybody seemed to forget that little pea; but God remembered it well.

not so.

"I shall make the best of my lot," it said, as it lay there. A poor woman lived in the room back of the balcony window. She spent the whole day in making little toys of wood and shells, which was her way of getting a little money. She had a good strong body, but neverthe

less she was a very poor widow, and the prospect was that she would always be one. In that little room lived her half-grown, delicate daughter. A whole year she had been living there, and it seemed as if she could neither live nor die.

"She will soon go off to see her little sister," sighed her mother. I had two dear children, and it was a difficult task for me to take care of them. But the Lord made a compromise by taking one of them to live with Him. Now, I would like to keep this one with me; but it appears as if God wants them both with Him. Soon she will go and see her sister!"

But the sick girl still lived, and lay patiently on her sick-bed, while her mother worked with her hands for their daily bread.

By-and-by spring-time came on. One morning, when the laborious mother was going about her work, the friendly sun shone through the little window, and all along the roof. The sick girl looked down at the bottom of the window and saw something growing.

"What kind of a weed is that?" she said. "It is going to grow

against our window. See! the wind is shaking it !"

"Just

And the mother came to the window and opened it a little. see!" she exclaimed. "That is a splendid pea-vine; it is now shooting out its green leaves. How it likes the little crevice! Soon we will have a garden!"

Then the sick girl's bed was moved close to the window, so that she could see the little climbing pea. Then her mother went to her work again.

"Mother, I really believe I shall get well again," said the daughter one evening to her mother. "The sun has been shining into the window so kindly to-day, and the pea-vine is growing so fast, that I believe I shall soon be able to go out into the bright sunshine."

"I would to God it could be so," said the mother. But she did not believe it could come to pass.

Then she stuck down a little stick for the pea-vine to run on, and tied a string around it to keep the wind from blowing it away. Every day it grew higher and larger.

"Now it is beginning to blossom," said the mother one day, as she went up to the window. "I am beginning to think my dear daughter will get well again." She had noticed that she had been getting more cheerful and stronger of late. So on the morning that the pea-vine blossomed she raised her up in bed and leaned her against a chair. The next week she was able for the first time for many, many months, to get out of bed and take a few steps.

How happy she was as she sat in the bright sunshine and looked out at the growing pea-vine! The window was open, and the morning breeze came skipping in. The girl leaned her head out of the window and kissed her vine. That day was a happy holiday to her.

"The good Father in heaven, my dear child, has planted that little flowering pea there for you, and also to bring hope and joy to my heart." So spoke the mother, and truly too.

Now what became of the other peas? The one which flew out into