The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep;
No I'll not weep:

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws

Or e'er I'll weep,-O fool, I shall go mad!

-King Lear.

The king is come to marshal us, in all his armor dressed, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest.

He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.

Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing,

Down all our line, a deafening shout-"God save our lord the king!"

"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray

Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war,

And be your oriflamme today the helmet of Navarre."

Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin.

The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain, With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies now-upon them with the lance!

A thousand spurs are sticking deep, a thousand spears in rest,

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snowwhite crest;

And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guid

ing star,

Amid the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. -Macaulay.

Said a dealer in stocks to an honest clerk in a commercial house: "For a wink I will make you rich. You must know the purpose of your great corporation. Is your firm about to purchase this new road? You need not speak a word, that you may be able to say, 'I have never spoken to any one of the secrets of the house.' Wink, and I will secure to you $100,000."

"I cannot; honor is everything; nothing can compensate for loss of soul-value."

LESSON LVIII

1. Mark the different kinds of feeling in this story.
2. Mark the different kinds of volition in it.
3. Read it aloud showing these fully.

IN THE TIGER JUNGLE

It was in September, 1863. I was taking a long exploring, preaching, and Bible-distributing journey of twelve hundred miles on horseback, through a region regarded as exceedingly dangerous.

We had been kept awake through the night, more than once, by the roaring of the tigers around our camp in the jungle, as we heaped wood and brush upon our campfires all night long, lest there be no one to tell the tale in the morning. We were to find a Government steamer when we struck the river. We reached the river but no steamer was there. The heavy torrents had made the Godavery three miles wide. We must, then, march through that seventy-five miles of jungle to reach the next steamer at the foot of the second cataract.

I need not stop to recount the exciting episode of our desertion by the whole party of carriers, nor of our desperate efforts, finally successful, to cross the Godavery's three miles' flood, in order that we might reach a large town of the Nizam's dominions, the headquarters of a sort of deputy governor, of whom I hoped to obtain help.

He politely told me that it was an utter impossibility; that at this season of the year, with the fever so deadly, tigers so ravenous, and the floods and back-waters from the river damming the way, no coolies could be induced to go through.

I took from my pocket a long parchment in which the Nizam ordered any of his officials to render any assistance I should call for, under the highest penalties for nonperformance. The moment he saw the great royal seal he shouted to his attendants, and in an incredibly short time forty-four bearers appeared.

I separated them into four squads of eleven men each, with one of my native preachers in charge of each party. The two royal guides of the region had been ordered to guide us through, were promised a high reward, and had sworn faithfulness.

In spite of all my precautions, I felt very suspicious that an effort would be made to desert us and was on constant watch. Cantering by the whole line, where the width of the path allowed, I would stop at the front and

watch and count every man and bundle, until all had passed, and then canter on ahead, again. So we went on hour after hour, halting only for an hour for lunch at midday.

Late in the afternoon we met two daring huntsmen who had been down to a point two miles beyond, to inspect their traps, and were on the full run back to shelter for the night.

We halted them to inquire of the region ahead. We knew that some two miles in front was an affluent of the Godavery, which we had expected to ford and pitch our camp for the night on an open knoll a little distance beyond it, where, with bright camp-fires and watchfulness, we could pass the night in comparative safety. But from these hunters we learned that the back-water of the Godavery flood, which was thirty feet higher than usual, had made these streams absolutely unfordable.

"Is there no boat?"

"None."

"No material for a raft?"

"None whatever."

And on the hunters dashed for safety. We were marching about a mile to the south of the Godavery and parallel with it.

"Guides!" "Is there no knoll on this side that we can pitch on?"

"No, from river to bluff is all like this."

In an hour it would be sunset. I said not a word to my assistants, but I spoke to God. "Master! was it not for thy sake that we came here? Didst thou not promise 'I will be with you'? Now we need thee. We are in blackest danger for this night. Only thou canst save us from this jungle, these tigers, this flood. O Master! show me what to do."

An answer came; not audible, but a thought as distinct as though spoken in my ear by human voice; "Turn to the left, to the Godavery, and you will find rescue." Riding rapidly forward, I overtook the guides. "How far is it to the Godavery?"

"A good mile."

"Is there no village on its bank?"

"No, none within many miles; and the banks are all overflowed."

"Is there no mound nor rising ground on which we could camp out of this water?"

"It is all low and flat, like this."

"Think well. Is there no dry timber of which we could make a raft?"

"If there were any it would all be washed away by these floods."

"Is there no boat of any sort on the river? I have authority to seize anything I need."

"None nearer than the cataract."

"How long would it take us to reach the Godavery by the nearest path?"

"Half an hour; but it would be so much time lost, for we would have to come back here and cut our way through this jungle to the bluff, and climb that."

"How long would it take to cut our way through to the bluff?"

44

At least six hours, and it will be dark in an hour." 'What shall we do for to-night?"

"God knows," and they looked the despair that they felt.

I drew aside again, and prayed as I rode on. "Turn to the left, to the Godavery, and you will find rescue," came the same suggestion again. It was not audible, but to me it was as distinct as though spoken by a voice in my ear. It thrilled me. "God's answer to my prayer," said I. "I cannot doubt, I must act, and that instantly."

Hastening forward to the guides at the head of the column, "Halt!" said I, in a voice to be heard by all. "Turn sharp to the left. Guides! show us the shortest way to the Godavery. Quick!" They remonstrated stoutly; that it was only labor lost, that we should be in a worse plight there than here, for the river might rise higher and wash us away in the darkness of the night. "Obey!" said I. "March sharp, or night will come. I am master here, and intend to be obeyed. Show the way to the river." They glanced at the fourteen-inch revolver that I held in my hand, ready for any beast that should spring upon us, they suspected that it might be used on something besides a beast, and, one saying to the other, "Come on we've got to go," started on.

All the party had surrounded me. My native preachers looked up inquiringly at my awed face. "There is rescue at the river," was all I said. How could I say more? Providentially, we had just come to where an old path led at right angles to our former course and directly towards the river, and down that path we went. The step of all was quicker than before, "The Dhora has heard of some help at the river," I overheard the coolies say to one another. I had heard of help; but what it was I knew not. Half a mile from the river I spurred forward past the guides. I knew the coolies would. not desert me now. There was no place for safety that they could reach for the night.

I cantered out from among the bushes to the bank. There right under my feet, was a large flat-boat, tied to a tree at the shore, with two men upon it trying to keep it secure in the rising and falling current.

"How did this boat get here?" said I.

"Oh, sir, don't be angry with us," said the boatmen, taking me to be an officer of the British India Government, and thinking I was taking them to task for not keeping the boat on its proper station: "we tried our best to keep the

boat from coming here, but, sir, it seemed as though it was possessed. This morning we were on our station when a huge wave snapped the ropes and swept the boat into the current. We did our utmost to get it back to that bank of the river, but an hour ago we gave up and let it float in here and tied it up for safety to this tree. Don't have us punished for letting it come here, as soon as the river goes down we will get the boat back where it belongs."

"All right my men," I shall use the boat and reward you well, and give you a letter to your superior that will clear you of all blame."

The boat, a large flat-boat, with strong railings along both sides, and square ends to run upon the shore had been built by the British military authorities in the troublous times following the mutiny. These men were paid monthly wages to keep it always ready, at its station, in case of sudden need.

We pitched our long, low tent upon the boat, and made a secure abode for the night, and within it the whole party were able to gather, with all the baggage. Before dark all hands had gathered a sufficiency of wood and brush to keep a bright camp-fire burning through the night on the shore, and I sat watching at the shore-end of the boat, pistol in hand, through the night, lest, in spite of the fire a tiger should try to spring on. We heard their roaring and snarling in the bushes near at hand, but, "He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways," was the thought that kept running through my mind after we had read the ninety-first Psalm in the beautiful Teloogoo language, and offered up prayers of thanksgiving, and praise to the Most High, under the shadow of whose wings we were abiding.

I have tried to give a vivid picture of the events of that day; but nothing can equal the vivid consciousness we had that day of the presence of the Master.

Some who have not tested it may sneer and doubt, but we five know that God hears prayer.-Jacob Chamberlain.