WAY! they cried; thou grasping knave !
Away,

'Thou grasping knave!' That's hard, yet may
be true:

For what has made me grasping but their scorn?
They call me thief, and dog, and Roman slave;
Would shut me out from all, from even this,
This public sight of Him for whom we wait.
And yet I must love something: one must love.
I love my gold, 'tis deaf and dumb and blind,
And yet, forsooth, less hard than human hearts.
See! there's a stir beyond-a distant shout:
He's drawing near.

'Good Sir, you have my place.

You thrust me from my place. You will not move?
Why, Sir, a publican is still a man,

With rights to highways and such common things,
The air, the sun.'

'Prater, get back !' again—

Always the same; and he who took my place,

He will not even deign to curse at me!

A righteous man-these righteous are so proud!
Nature herself denies me human dues;
So dwarfed of height I cannot see above,
Nor yet below, the crowd throngs here so close.
Stay! yonder sycamore! If I could climb!
These meagre limbs were apt at climbing once.

[He climbs.

Now I can see above the people's heads.
Those two broad lines of life: how grand they are!
All seething, surging, roaring like a flood,
And in them all not one kind thought of me.

Yet why complain? I am no priest, no scribe,
No Pharisee with broad phylacteries

And mighty surplusage of alms and prayers

To ply heaven's gates with when the world's are closed.

I am not righteous, nor have ever been,
Or tried to be for, on my soul, I think
This virtue raises men too high for good,
Above the common air, and makes them think
We sinners breathe rank venom, and ourselves
Are poisonous monsters, fatal at a touch.

I never knew a righteous man not proud :
He's too like God, perhaps, to stoop to us.
Yet God made me- -Well, well; I am not wise.

How the poor cripples press towards the front!
Their crutches help them. Lo! a clear space there,
All otherwhere so dense. What may it mean?
Oh, 'tis a leper! Aye, my friends, stand off!
That's fatal as a publican-almost.

I mark Salome. How intent her look!
As if her gaze could strain to Galilee.

She watches for this wondrous Nazarene,
Because He healed her and she loveth Him.
He spake (she told me, weeping) as one speaks
To noble matrons, with such high regard
And gentle smile, she felt a sudden power
To cast away her sins when He was by;
And yet He says He is the Son of God,

And should be so much prouder than these priests
As is His title higher. Aye! but mark,
She's poor, and Pharisees can throw a crumb
Into poor mouths sometimes, because they stand

So far apart they need not fear a touch.
My money is the bar they cannot pass.
He will not speak to me, this Nazarene,
Nor turn on me those grave and tender eyes
She spoke of. Yet, methinks, for one such look
I'd give-

A stir! He comes! Yes, there, at last ;
A little knot of men much pressed upon,
Yet moving onward. Who comes there behind?
What leaping figure, casting up its arms
With some wild meaning of despair or joy?

[A pause: all watch,

'Tis Bartimæus, old Timæus' son.
His step is sure as though he saw his way.
What say they? That he has his sight again,
Through word and action of this wondrous man!
He turns; I see him. That the Nazarene ?
That pale still face, not beautiful nor proud?
He should have seemed majestic, like a king,
And waved His favours grandly o'er the throng,
Until they fell beneath a crushing sense
Of some new force, half regal, half divine.
He nears Salome now; she shrinks away;
The eager glance is gone: she's pale with awe
And long-drawn expectation. He will pass.

No! no! He stops and speaks: she weeps for joy.
Aye, there is something wondrous in His smile;
A tenderness and pathos seem to flow
Into His very hands, so simply used,
And yet so holily, I know not how.
He will not turn this way, for sin is here,
And avarice. I would not He should turn;
I am not fit to meet His eye.
He'll go
To some one pure of stain from Roman gold
And gain by usury, and bless his home
With that high presence which I now perceive
Is kingly in its pure simplicity.

He looks! O droop, unpliant sycamore,

And hide me guilty from that holy sight!

[The Lord speaks. 'What, me, my Lord? Such honour unto me? I come. Thou shalt not wait.'

[He descends. There are murmurs in the crowd. He speaks to the Lord with eyes and heart alone. A sinner! Yes, good Lord, they speak the truth;

I am a creature of ungodly ways;

But since those gracious eyes of Thine fell here,
It seems new life and fire have entered in.
There is a virtue that I knew not of,

Where Love meets wretchedness and gets no stain,
And raises it with firmly-clasping hand

To its own height, and is not so dragged down.

O Lord! Thou art so high, Thou raisest me;

So strong, my sin can never do Thee harın,
My weakness never weaken Thee- [He speaks aloud.
'Behold,

Lord, half my goods I give unto the poor;
And if I've taken aught from any man
By unjust accusation, I restore

Him fourfold. For I read in those clear eyes,
My gold is henceforth not my only friend-
Thou lovest me: my Master, I love Thee.'

ANNE MERCIER.

CHAPTER II.

E said in the previous chapter that we did not intend to ignore the difficulties connected with our subject. We have acknowledged that our earnings come to us in littles,' and that by means of them we have to supply our needs, which are many and great. Here, then, is our difficulty No. I. How are we to do great things with scant material, and to have something over beside?

I am quite sure that when we have had this matter of saving pressed home to us, while all the time we are smarting under the knowledge that we find it impossible to bring our 'two ends' even near together, our feelings have fluctuated between an amazement and vexation over the difficulty, and we have been inclined to class our persuading friends among those who 'don't know any better.'

Now, my dear young friends, will you believe me when I tell you I do know how hard it is, and yet you must neither be astonished at my absurdity or vexed at my persistence when I also assert that it is possible to save something regularly out of the very smallest income. How this is to be done is our question.

We need not recall to our minds the.fables we have read respecting the king whose touch turned everything to gold; not one of us would come to be a Midas under any conditions. Neither do we require to remember the names of any old alchymist who spent his life in the hope of finding out the secret of making gold; and as for the conjurers who would like us to believe they have the power of bringing bunches of flowers, gold watches, and living birds, out of old hats, they will be of no manner of use to us. The name of our wonder-worker must be of a far different stamp, though it has a power they never could lay claim to. Here it is familiar enough to

all of us:

SELF-DENIAL.

Yes, just self-denial, and nothing more. And this self-denial is only 'the giving up of some present gratification for the sake of a greater future good.

Present gratification! Future good! That which is present has very much more weight with us than that which is future, we all know. We fully realise what we need now; what we may want in the future is very dim and indistinct to us, and it is not unnatural that our thought should shape itself into Let the future take care of itself.' But when that future comes, and we find out its helplessness with regard to

itself or anything else, what then? Times of bereavement or sickness, of loss of employment or any other trouble, when the hardest thing to bear is the weary, wearing, taking thought as to how this is to be procured or that provided. Times, too, when the possession of a little nest-egg will give us the power to make use of some good opportunity for improving or bettering our condition, but which must be allowed to slip by because the nest is not yet made even, still less is the egg forthcoming; then, how bitter is the thought, 'Oh, if I only could do it!' and the wants of the Past in their turns sink into insignificance before this much greater need of to-day.

Just to illustrate what we have been saying, let me tell you of the self-denial practised by one of my young friends, and its results. I shall call her by her own name of Maggie, and if she sees this, as is not at all unlikely, I know she will forgive her old friend for telling her story.

I had been Maggie's teacher, and when she was fourteen she came to tell me she was going into business-apprenticed for two years. She would get no wages the first year, and only 25. a-week the second. She was a clever little needlewoman, and I had no doubt she would get on. I kept my eye on her, and thought of her more than she ever dreamed of. Many a chance meeting between us was brought about by these thoughts.

The second year came; I did not forget the 25. weekly salary. I called upon the mother-they were in a small grocer's business.

'What is Maggie going to do with her money?' 'Well, it's hardly worth mentioning, ma'am. She works well, and it's hard she should not have a penny of her own. I don't expect I shall take much account of it if she buys her own little fandangles with it, as of course she wants to do.'

Next day I met Maggie reading Little Women. (Lily Series, price is.). I would not read in the street, Maggie; and you will have to hurry so over your meal. I suppose it's a delightful book?'

I

'I've hardly begun it, ma'am; it seems very interesting. I bought it out of my own money. thought we should all enjoy this.'

Maggie and I held a public tea meeting together next early-closing night, and the probable cost of the fandangles-gloves, collars, ribbons, &c.--was calculated to be about 2s. 6d. per month. After a great deal of wise talk Maggie determined to eschew acid

drops, cocoa-nut paste, and other confectionery delights, and to bring me all her money every week; and I had her authority for the regular investment of 5s. 6d. per month, while the 2s. 6d. was to be returned to her for necessary trifles. At the end of the first month we went together to the Post Office, and Maggie became a depositor for 5s. 6d. and we carried away her bank-book with no small gratification -on one side, at least.

Maggie was a brave little lassie-she never faltered. For twelve months her 5s. 6d. was regularly deposited, and at the year's end there was a total of 37. 105., principal and interest, placed to Maggie's credit. The few odd shillings which came to her when the month contained five weeks we agreed ought to be spent in buying mother a birthday present.

When her apprenticeship expired, her skill, painstaking, and industry, were so appreciated that Maggie was retained by her employers at a salary of 75. a-week, or 187. 4s. per annum. This continued for two years, when there was another raise' in the earnings. She still lived at home. Her mother said to me, 'The child earns all she eats and drinks by the sewing she does for me and the children. I won't take her money; let her save all she can.' So Maggie clothed herself and supplied her little wants upon 10. a-year, and brought me the rest.

When she was twenty-one her father died, and her eldest brother enlarged and carried on the business with his mother's help; then Maggie came to me again. She wanted to start for herself, with Emmy and Carry as her apprentices; would I help her with my advice? She had seen a nice little shop in a desirable locality, and so many ladies knew her millinery now, and her employers had promised to help her all they could. She thought she should get on.

And she did get on. The little shop was all that could be wished for. Maggie drew upon her funds, and paid the first quarter's rent in advance, fitted up her shop, and still left a nest-egg in the bank. Now carriage after carriage will drive up to her door, her business is increasing every day, and her money in the bank every week. Maggie pays by cheques now. Her income is ample, and she can afford to do good. After five years her establishment is considered one of the best, and mothers think they have done a good thing for their daughters if they can place them under her care. But on no point is Maggie more particular with those in her employ than this, that all-skilled hands, improvers and apprentices-shall save something regularly out of their earnings from the very beginning.

Emigration Notices.

ANADA.-G. F.S. Reception and Distribution are thoroughly arranged for. The Bishops of Toronto and Montreal and the Clergy of Bellville have formed Committees for the care of our girls consigned to them. An Immigration Associate is appointed—a Mrs. Kenrick, 1 Anderson Street, Toronto. Commendations to go to Miss Cox, 173 Mr. Bridger's party Gerard Street East, Toronto.

leave on April 24th in the Sarmatian, as the names sent in did not justify a special vessel being chartered. A Matron of many years' experience in working with girls is in charge of them in their own part of the vessel. Our Members number about thirty-six. Monthly parties will go out with Matrons and Chaplain. The Correspondent for Emigration hopes to go out with the August party.

NATAL.Thorough protection and comfort on voyage arranged. Slender G. F. S. work on the other side at present. First party starts on May 29th. For particulars see April number of Friendly Work, and advertisement on page 2 of cover this month.

QUEENSLAND. Emigration has so increased during the past year, that the spreading population is far ahead of Church action in many places. The G. F. S. cannot keep pace with it. Just at present it is not, therefore, so satisfactory for our Members as some other colonies.

A LETTER FROM THE BISHOP OF BEDFORD.

To the Editor of 'Friendly Work,' MADAM,-Will you allow me space to state what I think will interest your readers, and may supply a very happy example for future usefulness? I last year spoke at Yeovil for our work in East London, and I was extremely gratified the other day by receiving a splendid patchwork quilt, made in their spare time by some Members of the G. F. S., who are in a house of business in Yeovil, out of scraps of material which would be otherwise useless, and sent for some poor family in East London. Having myself witnessed the sad destitution which exists among the poor, and the miserably scanty supply of bedclothes in many a poor room, I know how very acceptable the gift will be. I need hardly say I shall take care that it is given where there is honest poverty, not caused by drink, and where it will not find its way to the pawnshop. I am very glad to make known this kindly and thoughtful act on the part of those who have not much that they can give, but who have done what they could. I hope other Working Members of the G. F. S. will take the hint, and imitate the excellent example of these Yeovil Members. WM. WALSHAM BEDFORD, Bishop Suffragan for East London.

WE have received more letters than we can insert in this month's Friendly Work, some standing over, indeed, from last month; one giving an account of the opening of a new G. F. S. Lodge at Eccles, Manchester :

'The Matron is a most kind, motherly woman,' writes Miss Pitcairn, the Branch Secretary, 'and any Member from a distance, obliged to come to Manchester, will find a hearty welcome at the Lodge. The Recreation-room is 27 ft. long, and, thanks to kind friends, is most comfortable, and, we think, pretty. Cooking and nursing lessons are given on Thursday and Saturday. On Monday evening Members work alternately for themselves and a poor parish in London. There is a penny bank and a library.'

We have received through another Secretary an account of a Christmas-tree and tea given by elder Members in Business to thirty-six little Candidates. These Members contributed to the tea and presents, and had the pleasure of dressing the tree themselves, and distributing the gifts; while the Candidates on their part enlivened the proceedings with songs and recitations.

L. E. S. sends us a letter full of nice, kindly feeling for others, but too long for insertion. She suggests to fellow-Members, who are isolated like herself, to send even a few flowers monthly to a Sick Member; to those in towns, to do some needlework, and sell it for the benefit of the sick ones. We shall be glad to see the simple cooking receipts which she offers for one of the magazines,

A LETTER FROM THE NILE.. BY C. J. HAWKSLEY.

January 13th, 1884.

MY DEAR G. F. S. MEMBERS,-Where do you think I am spending this first Sunday after Epiphany? On the banks of the Nile!

We have been sailing up the Nile all this week, and are starting on again on Monday, but are very thankful to find a place where we could come on shore for a quiet Sunday. Not that there is any church here; the nearest English church is 500 miles away; and there are no missionaries either, I grieve to say, though the ignorance and degradation of the people seem greater the further we go.

It is very hot here; even with puggarees and white umbrellas it is hardly possible to go out in the middle of the day; so what do you think we are going to do tomorrow? We have just told our Arab to call us punctually at five o'clock, that we may start at six for a long ride to see the sun rise over the beautiful ruins of ancient Thebes. (You know Thebes is called No in the Bible. See Ezek. xxx. 14, and Nahum, iii. 8–10.)

In the largest temple at Thebes there is an obelisk which Queen Hatasa built in honour of her father, King Pharaoh. It is 98 feet high, and cut from one block of granite--all covered with hieroglyphic figures: the largest obelisk in the world, it is said! Then, in another part of the ruins, there are paintings on the walls-one picture I am specially anxious to see, which is the victory after one of Queen Hatasa's battles; it shows the Egyptian general receiving the enemy's commander-in-chief, who presents himself a suppliant without arms! Some people think Moses was the General, and if so, this is his picture! You see he lived at the court of Pharaoh's daughter until he was forty years old, and the Bible tells us 'he was mighty in words and deeds ;' so if there was much war going on it does not seem at all unlikely that Queen Hatasa should make Moses her General-does it? After her father's death she seems to have reigned alone, till her brother, or rather her half-brother, was old enough to come to the throne.

Being on the Nile makes us think so much about Moses. Picture him waiting for Pharaoh that morning on the banks of this Nile, when he was to lift up his rod, and all this beautiful water was to become blood! What must have been his feelings? You know the Nile is nearly 4000 miles long-the only water for the whole of Egypt: how terrible must have been the thirst during those seven days! Then, being on the Nile makes one understand the horrors of the third plague, when 'all the dust of the land became lice throughout all the land of Egypt.' Dust in Egypt is far worse, and quite different to dust in England: wherever we go on shore we have to walk through it, often ankle-deep, and even from a short ride we come back quite white, covered with dust; and oh, the shaking and brushing our clothes have to undergo to get it out! Having no rain, everything gets very dry,

the trees and flowers all so dusty, and the poor women and children are dreadful to behold. It gets into their eyes, hair, skin, everywhere, and they do not seem to have the least knowledge of our use of soap and water. You can hardly understand the fearful condition and suffering of many of them. It is so curious to be in a country where it never rains; not to have to say, in arranging plans, 'I hope it will be a fine day to-morrow,' for it is always fine and sunny here. The people have never seen ice and snow; some of the natives, I am told, have never once seen a shower of rain, and can form no idea of the exquisite beauty of some of our winter mornings, when every leaf and twig glistens with hoar-frost. They know, too, very little of the changeful beauty of the clouds; instead of the beautiful clouds we so often have in England at sunrise and sunset, there is always a wonderful glow of colour here, very marvellous and very grand. Last night the sky appeared almost golden, then it changed to an orange colour, and at last there came over the whole western horizon the deepest crimson glow I have ever seen, making the palm-trees stand out almost as if we were in fairyland; and yet I miss our clouds even more than I expected to do.

We have not seen any live crocodiles yet, though we were told they are sometimes to be found between Assouan (the Syene of the Bible) and the Cataracts. But since steamers have appeared on the Nile they have gone further and further up. A gentleman on board has one which was shot by a native, and which he is taking home as a curiosity. Such a large, scaly creature! The way they shoot them is to catch them on a bank asleep. Sometimes, when it is very hot, they come and lie on the sand, basking in the sunshine

'Where Afric's sunny fountains

Roll down their golden sands.'

Such golden-looking sand it is in some parts of Upper

Egypt, that one lady is taking a box of it home! We have seen plenty of camels, of different colours; some gray, white, and brown. Sometimes they pass along the banks laden with bundles of sugar-cane. Sometimes they are grazing in the fields. You have seen camels in the Zoological Gardens, but did you ever hear the noise they make? They seem very easily put out of temper, and then they stretch out their necks to their fullest length and make a most peculiar bray, very loud and very angry. We must try and understand their likes and dislikes before we start for the wilderness; for we are to ride eight hours a-day! I wonder if they like sugar, as horses do?

The banks of the Nile are so pretty with palm-trees all along each side, and fields of sugar-cane here and there; then the cotton-plant and castor-oil plant are in great profusion, and both shrubs have beautifully coloured leaves. The castor-oil has a deep purple leaf and berry; the cotton grows something like our nut, only the fruit is about four times as large, and when you open the pod there is such soft, silky cotton! We often stop as we go at some of the villages, and the peasants bring fowls, eggs, milk, and butter to the boat for sale. Buffaloes' milk is all we can get here, and very good it is. Eggs they sell at 1d. per dozen; fowls at 7d. each; and large turkeys are considered much too dear to buy by the cook when they ask 2s. 6d. each for them!

As I am writing there is such a pleasant sound of water just under my window. It is a man with pole and bucket ladling up some of the water from the river for the fields and country round. All along the banks you see men working at this; for it is the only way to water the earth except once a-year, when the Nile rises and overflows its banks. Watching the men at work in the fields has taught me the meaning of those words in Deut. xi. 10-'wateredst it with thy foot.' They ladle the water into troughs, which carry it to little furrows and canals