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nLX)eN POU:iOATION8



THE



DEAF SHOEMAKER.



PHILIP BARRETT,

AfTaoR OF "flowers by the -watsidb."
TO WHICH. ARE ADDED



*Tis Kbugion that can give
Sweetest pleasures while we live *,
'Tis Reugion must supply . . -

Sohd comfort when we die. I >

Mfis. MA*TrEJt3.



KEW YORK::
PUBLISHED BY M. W. DODD,



No. 506 BROADWAY.

1864.



THE rrr-.V YORK
PUBLfC LiBRARY

ASTO • X AND

TILD ;::.•. .• '■ JATIONS

P L



Entered according to Act of Congress in tlie year 1S59, by

M. W. DODD,

In the Clerk's Office of tlie District Court of tlie United States for th«
Souttiern District of New York.



A ED'^VAED • 9. •; .JENKINS,
yrtntcf & ^tafotgper,



4 TO

REV. ERSKINE M. RODMAN",

RECTOR OF CHRIST'S CHURCH, NORFOLK, VA.,

®:^is SittU Volume is
INSCRIBED,

AS AW HXTMBLK TESTIMONIAL OF THE FRIENDSniP AND ESTEEM OF

PHILIP BARRETT.



PREFACE



My Dear Young Friends :

Encouraged bj your kind reception of my
former little volume, I have gathered together
my scattered sketches with the earnest wish and
heart-felt prayer that they may be instrumental
in leading you to childhood's best and truest
friend — the blessed Saviour.

Your attached Friend,

PHILIP BAKEETT,
Rural Retirement^ Va,



CONTENTS.



JOHN Mcdonough 9

MARY AND HER DRAWER 14

"IT IS I!" 18

THE ORPHAN 22

THE RECORDING ANGEL 26

THOMAS WARD 29

THE ROSE 34

THE LANTERN 38

THE DECISIVE MOMENT 43

THE ALARM WATCH 46

"CONDEMNED" 51

"I WANT TO BE A MINISTER" 55

RUFUS TAYLOR 60

JAMES JONES 63

GERTRUDE MASON 68

THE DEAF SHOEMAKER 71

NORMAN HALL T7

"DELAY NOT" 80

THE SAVIOUR 85

AUTUMN 89

NERO 94

THE RAILROAD 100

(vii)



Till CONTENTS.

A TKUE SKETCH , 104

•'THE LAST NIGHT OF THE SEASON" 108

HUGH MILLER AND THE PEECIPICE 113

THE HOME OF ST. PAUL 116

HOME 121

TO MY SABBATH-SCHOOL CLASS 128

HALF AN HOUR IN BAD COMPANY 131

THE FIRST DAY OF THE NEW YEAR 134

THE YOUNG MAN WHO WENT TO SLEEP IN CHURCH.. 13S

MARGARET WILSON ■ 140

GILBERT HUNT • 145

SKETCHES FOR YOUNG MEN 155

Thb Lamp and the Lantern, No. 1 157

" " No. 2 159

" " No. 3 164

"Who Shall Be the Greatest?" No. 1 169

No. 2 172

" No. 3 174

The Poor Consumptive ISl

" What I Live for " 184

The Last Sermon of the Season 186

" Will Nobody Save Me ? " 188

A Sabbath in the Country 190

The Young Christian's Death-Cuambeb 196

What Prayer Does 202

"Pbay Without Ceasing" 204



JOHN Mcdonough.

« Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the raging billows roll,
While the tempest still is high.

" Hide me, my Saviour, hide.
Till the storm of life is past •
Safe into the haven guide ;
receive my soul at last."

" John McDonough ! who is lie ? " my young
reader will doubtless exclaim.

It is true, his name is not written in golden
letters on the pages of History, — no Senate
chamber has resounded with his eloquence, — the
conqueror's wreath has never encircled his brow ;
but John McDonough has performed a deed
which posterity, to the remotest generation, can
never forget.

But a few weeks since, th'e steamer Northern
Indiana was burned on one of the Northern
lakes, and then and there it was, that this noble
and gallant deed was performed.

(9)



10 JOHN m'donough.

You wlio liave never seen a ship on fire can
form no idea of tlie awful horror of such a scene.
All was wild excitement and mad confusion.
The flames spread like a wliirlwind over the
noble ship, and soon wrapt it in their witliering
embrace. Every heart was lifted to God in
prayer ; every voice was joined in supplication ;
mothers were clasping their infants to their bos-
oms ; husbands endeavoring to save their wives ;
fathers encircling their sons in their strong and
unfailing arms ; the waters were a mass of living,
immortal beings, struggling for life.

Amid the hissing of the flames, tlie pale glare
of the atmosphere, and the wild shrieks of hope-
less agony that arose from the sinking passen-
gers, John McDonough might have been seeni
calm and composed, struggling nobly with the
swelling waves, and bearing in one hand life-pre-
servers to the perishing souls scattered over the
surface of the lake, which, to many, was destined
soon to be the winding-sheet of Death.

How noble the action ! How my heart swells
within me when I think of the gallant and fear-
less conduct of such a man !

When despair clothed every brow, fear paled
every cheek, and tlie wild cry — " Save, Lord, or
I perish " — echoed in the ears of the drowning,



JOHN m'i>OKOUGH. 11

his lofty brow showed no signs of fear, his eye
beamed with hope. He still struggled on, and
on, till many and many a soul was rescued from
a watery grave.

I had rather be the brave, the dauntless, the
self-sacrificin2: John McDonouo-h — the humble
laborer on the ill-fated Northern Indiana — than
Alexander the Great weeping because there were
no other worlds for him to conquer.

God bless thee, noble John McDonough !

Though no eulogy be pronounced at thy
death, no booming cannon thunder over thy
grave, no proud monument mark thy resting-
place, yet there will be erected in the hearts of
thy countrymen a monument more lasting than
marble, more enduring than brass. May thy
name live forever !

My young friends, do you not also see, con-
cealed as it were by the terrible grandeur and
painful horror of the scene, a beautiful and im-
portant truth displayed in the conduct of this
noble-hearted man ?

We are all embarked in a ship. The destina-
tion of that ship is Eternity. The voyage is
tempestuous, and when we least expect it, the
fires of hell may take hold upon us. But, thanks
be to God, there is a Great Life-preserver always



12 JOHN M'DONOUGH.

at hand. That Life-preserver I now extendi to
you : reject it if you dare ; destruction is the
consequence. Accept it ; and you will soon be
landed on the blissful shores of Heaven. That
Life-preserver is



CHRIST.



CHPtlST THE ROCK OF AGES.

" EocK OF Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee ;

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure ;

Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

"Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfil the law's demands ;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone,
Thou must save, and Thou alono.

" Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I clmg ;



THE ROCK OF AGES. 13

Xaked, come to Thee for dress ;
Helpless look to Thee for grace ;
Vile, I to the Fountain fly,
Wash me, Saviour, or I die.

" While I draw this fleeting breath,
When ray heart-strings break in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown.
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,—
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."



MARY AND HER DRAWER ;

OR, NOTHING MADE BY GETTING ANGRT.

I CANNOT curb my temper,

I might as well have tried
To stop, with little pebbles,

A rivers rapid tide.
My good resolves I hardly form,
When trifles raise an angry storm;

Child's Christian Year.

The cliiircli bells were sending forth their
merry chimes, and hundreds of cliildren were
wending their way to the Sabbath-scbool. Mary
was late that morning, and ran very quickly to
her drawer, in wliich were kept her gloves, hymn-
book, catechism, &c., and endeavored to jerk it
open at once ; but in so doing she got it crooked,
and it would move neither way.

Being in a great hurry, slie began at once to
fret and blame tlie drawer for not coming out.
She soon»becamc quite angry; her clieck flushed,
her eyes sparkled, and witli a violent efibrt she
pulled the drawer out, emptied its contents on
(14)



YIELDING TO TEMPTATION". 15

the floor, tore her dress, disfigured her hymn-
book, and ahnost ruined the drawer itself.

Her father was patiently waiting in the hall
for his little daughter, when the accident occur-
red, and asked her what was the matter. Her
instant reply was, " Nothing, Father ; you go on
— I will overtake you presently."

Little Mary did not overtake her father, and
he looked in vain for her at the Sabbath-school.

Her dress was so badly torn that she could
not go to Sabbath-school, and with tears flowing
down her cheeks, she sat down and thought so-
berly over her conduct.

She doubtless felt very sorry for her anger, and
the unnecessary damage she had done.

No one, when the family returned from church,
said a word to her, but left her to her own re-
flections. When her father had taken ofi" his hat
and seated himself, she modestly approached him,
threw her arms around his neck, and said, —

" Father, do you know why your little Mary
was absent from Sabbath-school this morning ?"

o

" No, my child," he replied.

" I was in a very great hurry, and attempted
to pull ray drawer out very quickly, and got it
fastened so tightly that it would move neither
one way nor the other. I tried and tried, but it



16 YIELDING TO TEMPT ATION.

would not move. I tlien got angry with the
drawer, pulled it very hard, and not only scatter-
ed its contents over the floor, but hung the knob
in my dress and tore it so badly that I could not
come to the Sabbath-school."

Her father told her he willingly forgave her,
and that she must also ask God's forgiveness, for
she had committed a sin in giving way to her
anger. He also told her to remember that noth-
ing was ever made by getting angry. If she
ever tried to do anything, and could not do it at
once, she must not get angry, but be patient and
calm.

I hope this little thing taught Mary an impor-
tant lesson — and may it teach you the same, dear
little reader. Nothing ivas ever made hy getting
angry, but something always lost.



AGAINST YIELDING- TO TEMPTATION.

My love, you have met with a trial to-day
Which I hoped to have seen you oppose ;

But alas, in a moment your temper gave way,
And the pride of your bosom arose.

I saw the temptation, and trembled for fear
Your good resolutions should fall ;

And soon, by your eye and your color, my dear,
I found you had broken them alL

Oh, why did you suffer this troublesome sin

To rise in your bosom again ?
And when you perceived it already within,

Oh, why did you let it remain ?

As soon as temptation is put in your way,

And passion is ready to start,
'Tis then you must try to subdue it, and pray

For courage to bid it depart.

But now you can only with sorrow implore
That Jesus would pardon your sin,

Would help you to watch for your enemy more,
And put a new temper within.

Jane Taylor.

[H]



"IT IS I!'»

" Ci-AiM me, Shepherd, as Tljine own,
Oh, protect me, Thou alone I
Let me hear Thy gracious voice,
Make my faintiug heart rejoice."

There was once a great storm on the Sea of
Galilee.

The wild winds howled, and ihc furious waves
rose almost mountain high.

There was a small vessel in the midst of this
storm, and in this vessel were some of Christ's
disciples.

When the storm had reached its utmost fury,
and certain destruction seemed to await those
who were in it, a man was seen walking on the
water towards the vessel.

The disciples were at once struck with won-
der and amazement. They were doubtless some-
what superstitious, and supposed it to be a spirit ;
for they were well aware that nothing having
flesh and blood like themselves could walk on the
surface of tlie water without sinking.

(18)



"IT IS i!" 19

But whose familiar voice is that, heard even
above the roar of the sea, and the noise of the
winds ? Who is He that dares approach their
vessel on such a night ?

The voice is the voice of their Saviour ; and
He who dreads not the rage of the billows, is He
whom " the winds and the sea obey." What are
His words? They are few and well chosen —
such as were best suited to the occasion : " It is
I ; be not afraid !" Oh, how welcome the visit-
or ! How delightful that familiar voice ! How
the downcast hearts of the disciples throb with
joy when they welcome their Saviour to their
bosoms ! How their hearts gush forth in thanks
when they see the raging billows become, at His
command, as gentle as a lamb, and the furious
winds as innocent as a little child.

Children, do not we gather some important
truths from this Scripture narrative? In the
storms of adversity and sadness, affliction and
bereavement, ought we not hear Christ saying to
us, " It is I ; be not afraid ?"



20 '' IT IS I ! "



CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST.

The beating rain in torrents fell,

The thunder muttered loud,
And fearful men with deep grief dwell

Before tlieir Saviour bowed.
The billows lashed the rock-bound shore,

The howling winds roared by,
"While feeble cries rose on the gale,

" Christ, save us, or we die."

Upon a bed of sw^eet repose

Our blessed Saviour lay,
"While rovmd Ilim played the lightning's flash

From out a frowning sky.
And feeble cries of grief and woe

Were heard around His bed, —
" Oh ! Jesus, wake — we perish now,

Our courage all has fled."

The lightnings flashed, the thunder roared,

The foaming waves rolled by,
And Jesus calmly rose and said,

'• Fear ye not ; it is I."
Loud roared the winds in wailing notes,

The night was cold and chill.
And to the raging storm He said,

" Hush, ye winds ; peace, be still."



" IT IS I ! " 21

The winds were stilled, the sea was calm,

The clouds soon passed away,
And sunny skies, with golden gleams,

Beamed on the face of day.
" What man is this," the seamen cry,

" That e'en the sea '11 obey ?
He only whispered, ' Peace, be still,*

And darkness passed away."

Western Recordeb.



THE ORPIIAN-.



' An orphan in the cold wide world,
Dear Lord, I come to Thee :

Thou, Father of the fatherless,
My Friend and Father be 1 "



" Cold is tlie world without a father's arm to
shield, and a mother's heart to love. The sun
shines but dimly on tlie head of tlie orphan, for
sorrow claims such as its own, and no earthly-
power can release from its embrace. AVhen a
father dies, and she who ' loves with a deep,
strong, fervent love,' is laid in the grave, then is
the brightness of earthly existence extinguislied."

Children, how accurately do the above lines
describe the lonely and forsaken condition of the
orphan !

Have you never felt your little hearts throb
with sorrow when you saw tlie children of the
Orphan Asylum walk quietly down the aisle of
the church and seat themselves in regular order
in the front pews? Did not their plain dress
speak to you in language which you were obliged
[22] "



THE ORPHAN. 2^-

to hear? Did not tlie prayer arise from your
breasts, tliat God would be a Father to the father-
less, that He would watch over, guide and pro-
tect, throughout the journey of life, that helpless
little band of fatherless and motherless children ?

How lonely must their condition be. No fa-
ther to counsel, no mother to love, no home
beneath whose shelter they may rest, but depend-
ant upon the cold charities of a colder world.

He who would treat unkindly, or wound the
feelings of an orphan^ is worse than the brute of
the field.

My young orphan friends, there is but one
source to which I can direct you ; there is but
one friend who will never desert you ; there is
but one house whose door will never be closed
against you.

That source is God ; that friend is Christ ;
tliat house is one not made with hands, eternal
in tlie heavens. God will counsel you ; upon
the bosom of Christ you may " lean for repose ; '^
and the angels of heaven will ever welcome you
to tlieir blest abode.

The kind father and the loving mother, from
whom you have been separated by death, you
sliall meet again, if you are Christians.

And to you, dear little readers, who know not



24 THE ORPHAN.

the length and breadth and depth of a Savionr's
love, let me say one word : There is no orphan-
age LIKE THAT OF THE SOUL WHICH LEANS NOT

UPON Christ as its Saviour and Redeemer.



LAMENT OF AN ORPHAN.

" Homeless, friendless, for many years
I've wandered far and wide,

"With none to wipe away my tears,
Ajid none to be my guide.

** No gentle word to soothe my grief,

Words so harshly spoken ;
No tender hand to give relief,

And now my heart is broken.

" I sigh to think in former days,
"When by my mother's side

I watched the sun's last golden rays
As they sank at eventide.

" Oft I've played beside the brook.
My brother's hand in hand,

As each did seek his favor'd nook,
Then we 're a merry band.



THE ORPHAN. 25

" I have no friends— my mother's gone,

She is far, far away;
I sit beside her lowly stone,

And sing my plaintive lay.

" I pray that God will take me home

To that bright world above ;
There we shall meet to part no more,

In that heaven of love.

" Death has marked me for its own,

And I no more shall rove ;
God has called the orphan child

To praise with Him above.

" Can you hear my prayer, Mother,

In yonder region bright ?
I'm coming to you now, Mother,

Earth's but a dismal night."

8



THE RECORDING ANGEL.

" Among the deepest shades of night

Can there be one who sees my way ,
Yes, God is as a shining Hght

That turns the darkness into day."

We are told, that during the trial of Bishop
Cranmer, in England, lie heard, as he was making
his defence before the judges, the scratching of a
pen behind a screen. The thouglit at once arose
in his mind that they were taking down every
word lie uttered. " I should be very careful,"
thought he to himself, " wliat I say ; for the
^'hole of this will be handed down to posterity,
and exert an untold influence for good or for
evil."

Do you know, my young friends, that there is
a Recording Angel in heaven that takes down
not only every wicked word you utter, but the
very thoughts of your minds and desires of your
hearts ?

Remember, that tliougli your actions are not
all seen by men, nor your thoughts known to
(26)



THE KECORDING ANGEL. 27

your companions, yet every action, thought and
word is carefully recorded in the Book of God's
Eemembrance.

How chaste, then, should be your conversation,
Low guarded your conduct, how pure your every
wish !

At the day oi judgment, how full will the pages
of that book be of yoitr unkind treatment of some
poor, forsaken little wanderer ; of your revenge-
ful feelings towards your schoolmate for his lit-
tle acts of childish thoughtlessness !

But is there not some way to blot out these
dark sins from the Book of God's Remembrance ?
Yes, there is. Christ has diedj that you might
live. He assures you tliat though your sins are
" as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ;
though they be red like crimson, they shall be as
wool.''



THE EVER-PRESENT GOD

*' In all my vast concerns with Thee,

In vain my soul would try
To shun Thy presence, Lord, or flee

The notice of Thine eye.

" Thy all-surrounding sight surveys

My rising and my rest,
My public walks, my private ways,

And secrets of my breast.

" My thoughts lie open to the Lord
Before they're formed within ;

And ere my lips pronounce the word,
He knows the sense I mean."



[281



THOMASWARD; OR, THE BOY WHO
WAS ASHAMED TO PRAY.

" Come, my soul, thy suit prepare,
Jesus loves to answer prayer ;
He Himself has bid thee pray,
Therefore will not say thee nay."

Early one morning, in the month of Septem-
ber, 184-, Mr. Ward's family were assembled
around the family altar for prayer, to implore
the blessing and protection of our Heayenly
Father in behalf of their only boy, who was
about leaying his home for a distant school.

Thomas, a boy of about twelye summers, was
deeply affected by the solemn seryices, and as he
arose from his knees his eyes were filled with
tears, thinking, perhaps, that he might neyer be
permitted to enjoy that delightful priyilege again.
His father prayed particularly that God would
take care of his boy during his absence from his
parents ; that He would preserve hiin from all
dangers ; that He would be near him in all his
temptations ; and, if they should not meet again
3^ [29]



30 THOMAS WARD.

on earth, that they might all — fathe./, mother and
son — meet where the " wicked cease from troub-
ling, and the weary are at rest." He endeav-
ored to impress upon his mind the necessity of
prayer, and that he should never neglect it, under
any circumstances. DonH he aslicnned to prmj,
my son, said his father.

The ringing of the car-bell announced that in
a short time he must be off. The most trying
point had now come, — he must bid his parents
farewell. Clasping his arms around his mother's
neck, he said : " Oh, my Mother, my Mother, shall
I ever see you again ? " and with a kiss to each,
bade his affectionate parents adieu, and, valise
in hand, walked hastily to the depot.

Having procured his ticket, he seated him
self in the cars, and in a few moments left the

home of his childhood for the P H

school, at B . His heart was sad, as he

thought of the many happy hours he had spent
"at home'' with his kind parents, and a tear
stole silently down his check. These sad and
melancholy thoughts, however, were soon ban-
ished from his mind by the magnificent scenery
of the country through wliich he was passing.

He thought '• the country," as it was called in
town, was the loveliest place he had ever seen.



THOMAS WARD. 31

Thomas' mind became so mucli engaged with the
picturesque scenery — mountains, lakes and val-
leys — that he reached his place of destination
ere he supposed he had travelled half-way.

He met the principal at the depot, awaiting >
his arrival, and in a few moments they were on
their way to the school. Nothing of interest oc-
curred during the remainder of the day, with the
exception of the boys' laughing at Thomas, call-
ing him "town boy,'"' etc. ; "initiating" him, as
they termed it. When the time for retiring to
rest drew near, and' one after another of the boys
fell asleep, Thomas was surprised that not one of
them offered a petition to God, asking Him to
take care of them during the silent watches of
the night. He knelt beside his bed, and at-
tempted to offer a short prayer ; but his compan-
ions were laughing and singing, and he arose
from his knees, wishing that he was at home,
w^iere he could, in his quiet little chamber, offer
up his evening devotions. Some of the boys were
actually so rude as to call him " Parson Ward,'^
and ask him if he intended holding forth next
Sabbath ?

The next night Thomas felt so ashamed, that
he determined not to pray, and laid liis head on
a prayerless pillow, — a thing he had not done



82 THOMAS WARD.

since he was able to say, " Gentle Jesus, meek
and mild." The last words of his father, " DonH
he ashamed to pray^^ came to his mind ; but
thinking about them as little as possible, he soon
fell asleep.

In a short time Thomas became the ringleader
of the gang in all that was bad, and soon learned
to curse and swear worse than any of his com-
panions.

On a beautiful Sabbath morning, instead of
going to church, he wandered off, and finding
nothing to engage his thoughts, determined to
take a bath. He had scarcely been in the water
five minutes, when he was seized with cramp, and
sunk to rise no more. The last words that
lingered on the lips of the drowning boy were,
" Oh, my mother !"

The awful death of Tliomas speaks for itself.
May it serve as a warning to those who violate
God's holy commandment, and are ashamed to
lyray. May it also teach us how quickly one sin
leads to another. His first sin was neglecting
to pray ; his second^ profanity ; his tliird, Sab-
bath-breaking, which terminated in his death.



NOT ASHAMED OP CHRIST.

" Jesus, and shall it ever be,
A mortal man ashamed of Thee ?
Ashamed of Thee, whom angels praise,
Whose glories shine through endless days f

^^ Ashamed of Jesus ! — Sooner far
Let evening blush to own a star ;
He sheds the beams of light divine
O'er this benighted soul of mine.

^^ Ashamed of Jesus ! — Just as soon
Let midnight be ashamed of noon ;
'Tis midnight with my soul, till He,
Bright Morning Star, bid darkness flee.**

^^ Ashamed of Jems ! that dear friend
On whom my hopes of Heaven depend I
N"o, when I blush be this my shame,
That I no more revere His name.

'■^Ashamed of Jesus ! — Yes, I may,
When I've no sins to wash away,
No tear to wipe, no good to crave, .
No fears to quell, no soul to save.

" Till then^nor is my boasting vaia—
Till ihen I boast a Saviour slain ;
And oh, may this my glory be,
That Christ is not ashamed of me."


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