'It is always the same.

of all the morning ?'

'No, what is it ?'

The One Talent.

75

Do you know what I have been thinking

'The story of the talents, that we had last Sunday. I don't believe

I have a single talent.'

'You must have one. Don't you know the minister said every one had a talent entrusted to him, and that very many had only one?' 'Yes, and by using one talent well, a person could gain another. If I only thought I had a single talent, how I should try to improve it ?'

'I think I know what your talent is.'

'I love music. I am so happy when I am listening to the organ in church, I forget my hard lessons and the pain in my head. Do you think I have a talent for music ?'

Johnnie sat up in his eagerness. He had been called stupid so often, and his little head ached so much in attempting to learn grammar and mental arithmetic, that he really believed he had no talent for anything.

'Yes, I think you have a talent for music. You have made out all the hymn-tunes we sing in Sunday school and church, and you play better than I do, though you have never had a lesson, and I have had two quarters.'

'Oh! if I could be an organist like your father!'

'You will. Keep quiet now, and don't make your head ache again, and this afternoon we'll have another talk about your one talent.'

Jessie told Mr. Burrows how much Johnnie had suffered from studying lessons he did not understand, and how fond he was of the organ. She also told her father all about it, and asked him if he couldn't give Johnnie music lessons.

The end of it was that Johnnie was not to be detained at noon-hour for the lessons he could not remember, that he was to take lessons from Mr. Williams, and in return blow the bellows when that gentleman practised or gave a lesson on the church organ.

What a change came over Johnnie when he was able to begin to cultivate his one talent. He grew so much brighter. Mr. Williams was so kind; praise was so new to Johnnie. Then Mr. Williams said Johnnie quite repaid him for the lessons, by keeping his music in order, and by doing many little services for him, besides blowing the bellows.

In school, too, Johnnie improved. As he was not kept in at noon

he did not suffer from headache, and he was able to attack the grammar and mental arithmetic more successfully.

'When you are a great organist you will want to read, write and speak the English language correctly, and be able to attend to your business affairs,' said Jessie. 'Father has to make out bills and answer letters. So, Johnnie, perhaps your talent for music will make you have a talent for mental exercises too.'

How Johnnie practised! There was a little parlour-organ in the house, which had been his father's. Every spare moment was spent in practising on it. 'Music is my talent,' he said to himself, 'I must make the most of it.'

Over and over was the same exercise practised till it was perfect. Mr. Williams was surprised at the child's progress; even Jessie wondered. He was allowed to practice on the church-organ. The minister took an interest in him, and encouraged him by kind words, and the permission to use the large organ.

He

Years passed away, and the pale-faced boy became a man. was small and boyish-looking. People said his appearance was against him. He didn't look strong enough to handle an organ.

His one talent had grown till it could not be hidden away. For several years he had played in a small church near his native town. His friends advised him to go to one of the large cities, where he could receive a salary suitable to his ability.

Some months passed away, and no opening came. There were many churches, many grand organs, but there was an organist for each church.

Mr. Norris was getting discouraged. He could not return to his home, for his money was all spent, and he was in debt to his landlady. He could only wait and trust a little longer. Success came at last. A new church was just finished, and the organist from a large church in a neighbouring city was coming to take charge of the music.

Mr. Norris repaired to the neighbouring city, and presented himself to the music committee. He was permitted to try what he could do. There were other applicants for the position, who had friends to speak for them. It was a grand organ, the finest Mr. Norris had ever handled. He was nervous and anxious, so much depended on his success. He quite forgot all his anxieties and where he was, when he heard the tones of the organ.

His heart was in his work. His well cultivated talent showed itself in his performance. The committee were surprised and

The Siege of Jericho.

77

delighted. They said they were obliged to give Mr. Norris the preference, because he was the best performer.

Johnnie Norris's one talent is doing him good service, and he is using it to the glory and honour of God.

Perhaps to very few are entrusted five talents, or even two, but every accountable being has at least one power which can be cultivated and increased. Those who had many talents were obliged to increase them to satisfy their Lord, and that can only be done by industry and perseverance.-Mary B. Lee.

[The following lines were written on the subject chosen for the afternoon lesson, January 31st, 1875. See "Teacher's Assistant" for February.-ED.]

THE SIEGE OF JERICHO.

Joshua stood by Jericho,

Its near attack to plan;

And, musing there, he found himself
Confronted by a "man."

A kingly presence was this man's,
And unsheathed was his sword;
But Joshua buckled on his strength,
Obedient to the Lord.

And, moving towards him, he exclaimed-
"Art thou a friend or foe?"

Captain of Israel's host I'm named,
With me to victory go.

The warrior bowed in worship low,
Before his visioned Lord,
And courage fresh and guidance drew,
From his inspiring word,

Now Jericho was walled about,
And shut was every gate;
The Israelites had nought to do
But march a week-and wait.

A long procession daily strode
Around the city wall,

And chief was there the Ark of God,
Before which it should fall.

No sound was heard of human voice,
Only the trumpet's blast;

And tramping of obedient feet,

Told how the week was passed.

The prisoned inmates looked amazed
On such a novel scene;

For since that strife had cursed the world,
Such warfare ne'er had been.

Seven times they girt the city round;

Upon the seventh day

The rams' horns rent the air with sound;
The people's lungs had play,

They gave the victor's shout before
The victory was won;

Their faith was honoured by the Lord

The "Captain "-Saviour-Son,

As rose their shout upon the air,
So fell the city wall;

And thus it is God saves men still

In faith who on Him call.-Gretha.

A VISIT TO THE THIEVES' PARLOUR.

MR. Weyland, in 'Evening Hours,' gives an interesting account of the work that is being done among some of the very vilest of the London population. The following is a part of his narrative:

'As the visitors approached the door, several men without shoes or linen, and others with a sinister expression of countenance, left, and the missionary gave the new arrivals a warm and respectful welcome. The room itself was cheerless and uninviting, walls, ceiling, and forms being worn to a dirty brown colour, and it was a dim light which penetrated the heavily framed windows. A cheerfulness was, however, diffused by the round, healthy, and genial face of the thieves' missionary, as he took his seat at the old desk. Though beaming with kindness, there was an expression of decision about the mouth, and a keen glancing of the eye, which marked a strong individuality of character. Upon his criminal visitors he must have made the impression, 'I love you; you can trust me; but I am not to be deceived.'

'In reply to inquiries concerning the mode and success of his labours, he replied modestly,

'Thousands of thieves and outcasts have heard from me about the love of God in Christ Jesus, and some have believed to the saving of their souls. Several hundred thieves and other reformed persons have

A Visit to the Thieves Parlour.

79

been led to live honest and pure lives, while a great number have been restored to their friends, or assisted to emigrate. My mode of proceeding, after making myself acquainted with their histories and peculiarities, is faithfulness to the true and right, and an expression of heartfelt sympathy in their trials and sorrows.' A simple narrative, as taken from his lips, will suffice to illustrate his statements :

'One evening a wretched-looking youth of sixteen came in here by himself. Young as he was, the criminal expression peculiar to confirmed thieves was strongly marked in his countenance, while the closely-cropped hair told that he had recently been discharged from prison. Upon my inquiring his reason for coming to me, he replied, 'I've been a tryin' to grab summut all day, and haven't had no change, and I'm hungry. Do, please, master, do something for me.' And then the following conversation took place between us :

" What's your name ?'

'Tom Pullinge.'

'That's an alias.'

Well, then, it's Robert Wilson.'

'That's another lie; you must tell the truth to me.'

'He hesitated, and then told his right name; so I continued the dialogue by inquiring,

'How long have you been living upon the cross (living by theft)?' 'Three years; ever since I have been in London.'

6 Why did you come to London ?'

'Cos' my poor mother died, and I was miserable and thought I could get lots of work up here.'

'I see that you have been in prison-why don't you try and get an honest living ?'

'I've been locked up five times, and I can't get no work; and I can't help grabbing things when I sees 'em.'

'How old was your mother ?'

'About forty.'

'Was she good to you?'

· Wasn't she? that's all! But she is gone, poor thing, she has!' 'Did she hear you say your prayers?'

'Oh yes, when I was a little un.'

Can

you remember her chair at the fireside, how she dressed, and things she used to say to you?'

'Yes I does,' he replied, as the tears started into his eyes and trickled down his cheeks; and there was a choking in his throat as he