HOW JOE LEARNT GRATITUDE.

Narratives, Anecdotes, &c.

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HOW JOE LEARNT GRATITUDE.

"We all have our trials and tribulations in the world, Joe," said Mrs. Cox, as she moved quietly about the cheerful kitchen, preparing supper for her husband and herself. "But we can be contented and happy in spite of them."

"I don't see how we can, mother," with a grunt. "I never can be contented with my work at old Bartle's, and I guess he's not too well contented with me."

"Has he been complaining again, Joe?" asked Mrs. Cox, looking round anxiously.

"Growling at me all day!" answered her husband. "I wouldn't be surprised if he discharged me-wouldn't care much either! and he kicked the fender before which he was sitting with a kick that was emphatic. Joe had some fine qualities, as we shall presently see; but his life was made miserable by his discontent.

"Oh hush-don't lose your place!" cried Mrs. Cox, dropping the loaf she was cutting. "Think of Louey"-and she glanced towards a little inner room where a sick lame child was sleeping" needing extra things, and we with only a few shillings in hand. It is easy to get out of work; but, oh dear, it's cruel hard to get into it again.'

Joe was silent. He had no wish to worry his wife, but he thought the treatment he got from old Bartle was hard to bear.

"Have you to go back to-night?" asked Mrs. Cox, presently. "Yes; it's not my turn for night watchman, but old Bartle said Myers was too deaf, and he doesn't think Noble particular trustworthy, and the rest are new or only lads, so it has to be me-all one gets for doing one's work well."

"Well, Joe, it's nice to be trusted, and it's a trifle extra pay; though I do own a night watch on top of a hard day's work be a unpleasant duty; but it's only once in a way, and you'll sleep to-morrow morning. What time must you be there?"

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Eight sharp; though old Bartle doesn't leave till nine; still he expects me there all the same. And it's now a quarter to

seven.

'Supper's just ready," and Mrs. Cox gave the fire a lively

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HOW JOE LEARNT GRATITUDE.

poke to make the kettle boil; Joe must have a good cup of tea since he was to sit up all night.

The November night was dark and chilly, and as Joe hurried along the lonely road, he found it necessary to think of the warm kitchen, where he had just left his bright-faced wife, to keep himself cheerful. He had a good mile and a-half to go, and for the most of the distance the path led by the mouth of the great river. The water looked dark and treacherous, and he could hear the ripples as they went over the long stretch of rocks at the bar, near the bend. He was thoroughly familiar with the way, and knew every foot of ground over which he passed. He trudged along mechanically, absorbed in thoughts of his own discomfort.

But the sound of a steamboat whistle, far up the river, caused him to look up for a moment to the high cliff just across the bend. He stopped short with a start. Where was the beacon light-the light by which the pilot was warned of the dangers of the ripples, and by which he steered his boat safely into the deep waters of the Channel? It certainly was not lit to-night. Old Jack Steers had lighted that beacon for fifteen years. Something was wrong! And there was a steamer coming into danger for want of that warning light!

It did not take many seconds for these thoughts to fly through Joe's head, nor did it take him long to come to a bold determination. The peril of others made him for once forget himself.

"That beacon must be lit in ten minutes!" and he started for the spot where he knew old Jack Steers kept the little boat in which he crossed over every night to the cliff. The boat was gone! Probably Jack had started; yet supposing he had not, what an awful risk for the coming steamer to run! Perhaps Jack's boat had capsized; something was wrong-that light was always there at sunset. Joe looked round, wondering what he could do. Presently he spied another boat tied to a stake; he knew it for a disused one, not too safe, yet not quite rotten enough to be destroyed yet.

He glanced across; there was no light; old Jack was not there!

"I mustn't wait," he said, aloud. "That steamer isn't more than a mile away, I can hear. I'll get across in th' old boat. If I'm not drowned, I'll lose my situation for sure; and wife and Loo will fare bad this winter: but I must do it-I must-tho' I dare say I'll get few thanks for my trouble."

While speaking, his fingers were unfastening the old boat. Getting into it, he put all his strength into the work of crossing the

HOW JOE LEARNT GRATITUDE.

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stream. It was labour to which he was unaccustomed, and his hands were soon numbed with the cold, and his feet suffered from the water that constantly splashed into the boat; many times he was nearly swamped, but he never gave in till the cliff was reached. It was but the work of a second to tie up the boat, and the next he was scaling the cliff as if for life. Now he could dimly see the lanterns of the steamer, and he knew she was pushing along, her pilot ignorant of her near approach to destruction.

Joe reached the beacon-post, and had the lamp lighted quicker than he had ever lit a lamp in his life before; and then he heard a bell ring, and saw the steamer slack up with a sudden jar that made her tremble from bow to stern. He could hear the captain shouting, as well he might, for the steamer was heading right upon the rocks!

After a little delay, and various orders shouted, the great steamer swung round and moved safely away in the deep waters.

Joe

Joe stood on the cliff till assured of her safety; then scrambled down the rugged pathway. As he went to untie the old boat he noticed (what he had overlooked in his anxiety) that the boat Jack Steers always used was fastened a few yards away. knew it well, for he had crossed over several times in the summer with old Jack for the fun of helping to light the beacon. Then where was the poor old man? Joe shouted; shouted again and again; then his ear caught the sound of a groan. Groping about, he came on poor Jack, who had fallen down the rugged path as he was going up to light the lamp, and had lain there with a broken leg for hours or more.

Joe managed to get him into the best boat, and rowed him across. Luckily the absence of the light had attracted attention, and some people were ready to help Joe to land. Without waiting to explain, he handed over the old man to their care, and raced off to his master's factory. It was ten minutes to nine when he reached it.

He told a simple, straightforward story, his dripping clothes testifying to its truth; but he received his discharge for next day, as he had expected!

The blow was a heavy one, and he went home with a sad heart next morning. It required more courage to tell his wife of his dismissal than to face the dangers of the river! But he had misunderstood her.

"You could do no less, Joe," she said, while lovingly making him comfortable over his breakfast. "The master's property

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was safe, as you knew, till nine; and those lives were in deadly peril. If you'd lost your place from grumbling, or laziness, or not putting up with the master's temper, I might have felt sore and said hard words; but God meant you to do that work last night, Joe; and I thank Him that you did your duty. Don't be cast down; I don't believe any one ever was sorry for doing right, come what may."

Cheering words, words of a true wife and a true Christian woman! And they cheered Joe a little. Still as the days went by, and he sought work in vain, his heart failed; he growled and grumbled; and he railed bitterly at the ingratitude of the men whose lives he had tried to save.

But the cloud soon dispersed. When old Jack Steers was able to talk and hobble about, every one was told of Joe's heroism, and he got a far better situation. And then the peril the steamer had been in reached the owners and the captain and some of the passengers. The former made him a present; and one of the passengers, passing by that way, called to see the man who had risked so much to save strangers. He was a great surgeon, and saw at once how Louey could possibly be spared from being a cripple for life; he undertook all expense and skill in order to cure her. In no other way could he have repaid Joe so well-the child was dearer to him than his life; and tears stood in the man's eyes as he thanked the doctor; "It's not often kindness comes our way, sir."

"I should be very ungrateful not to do something for you, when you risked your life to save mine," said his new friend. "Confess, now, you would think me unworthy of my life if I said I owed you nothing?"

Joe was silent. It was quite true.

"And, forgive my plain speaking, but I owe you so much that I would gladly do you good. You and I are under a still greater debt to One who died for us, while we were rebels against Him. Do you ever think of what you owe the Son of God who died in agony on the cross, that you and I might be saved and inherit eternal life? If it would be a mean ungrateful thing for me to disregard your services, what base ingratitude is it for a sinful man to forget that the Holy Son of God left His kingdom and His glory and became a working man, leading a hard life, dying a lingering, shameful, painful death, to bring us back to God! Have you ever thought this out ? "

Joe shook his head, but the words had struck home. His wife had often tried to plead with him, but the good seed had lain hidden away. Now the words of this stranger went to his heart.

When next the doctor called, Joe said with emotion : "Those words of yours wouldn't get out of my mind, sir. It's come home to me how ungrateful I've been to God all my life. I never thought of His mercies, I only counted up my troubles; there has He been surrounding me with His love all my life, and I've done nothing but grumble. Your talk of being grateful to me just for lighting that beacon shamed me, sir. What had I done compared to what Christ did for me? and I'd never given Him a grateful thought! I'm going to give up growling, and hope I may live to please the Saviour who bore with my discontent so long!"

THE GOLD EAGLE.

A GOOD many years ago a merchant in America missed from his cash-drawer a twenty-dollar gold piece. No one had been to the drawer, it was proved, except a young clerk whose name was Weston. The merchant had sent him there to make change for a customer, and the next time the drawer was opened the gold piece had disappeared. Naturally, Weston was suspected of having stolen it, and more especially as he appeared a few days after the occurrence in a new suit of clothes. Being asked where he had bought the clothes, he gave the name of the tailor without hesitation; and the merchant, going privately to make inquiries, discovered that Weston had paid for the suit with a twenty-dollar gold piece.

That afternoon the young clerk was called into the merchant's private room and charged with the theft.

"It is needless to deny it," the merchant said. "You have betrayed yourself with these new clothes, and now the only thing that you can do is to make a full confession of your fault."

Weston listened with amazement; he could hardly believe at first that such an accusation could be brought against him; but when he saw that his employer was in earnest, he denied it indignantly, and declared that the money he had spent for the clothes was his own, given him as a Christmas gift a year ago. The merchant sneered at such an explanation, and asked for the proof.

"Who was the person that gave it to you? Produce him," he demanded.

"It was a lady," answered Weston, "and I can't produce her, for she died last spring. I can tell you her name."