The Little Gleaner, Vol. X.: A Monthly Magazine for the YoungVarious
Religion
The Little Gleaner, Vol. X.: A Monthly Magazine for the Young
Various
Christian literature for children -- Periodicals
One of our party greatly needed some elder-flower water for her face,
upon which the sun was working great mischief. It was in the Italian
town of Varallo, and not a word of Italian did I know. I entered a
chemist's shop, and surveyed his drawers and bottles, but the result was
nil. Bright thought--I would go down by the river, and walk until I
could gather a bunch of elder-flowers, for the tree was then in bloom.
Happily the search was successful. The flowers were exhibited to the
druggist; the extract was procured.
When you cannot tell in so many words what true religion is, exhibit it
by your actions. Show by your life what grace can do. There is no
language in the world so eloquent as a godly life. Men may doubt what
you say, but they will believe what you do.--_C. H. Spurgeon._
IT is a great shame to a man to have a poor heart and a rich
purse.--_Chaucer._
DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH.
"_He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants
of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground._"--GENESIS xix. 25.
The following extract from "Word Pictures from the Bible," by G. H.
Taylor, furnishes a good specimen of pictorial teaching, and will serve
to illustrate the lesson on the above subject:--
In the southern part of Palestine, and about thirty miles south-east
from Jerusalem, stands the Dead Sea. It is a lake of about forty miles
in length, with an average breadth of ten miles. On the east and the
west, steep, rugged, and barren mountains of limestone rise up to the
height of two thousand feet, and enclose the waters as in a huge
cauldron. A death-like stillness prevails all around, unbroken save by
the scream of the wild fowl on the bosom of the lake, or the footstep of
some daring and solitary traveller. Its shores are deserted. No human
habitation exists within miles. Even the wandering Arab approaches it
with superstitious dread. Nothing can exceed the gloomy grandeur of its
scenery. Rocks piled upon rocks, like ruin upon ruin, look down from the
east and the west, and are reflected in its sluggish waters. In its
immediate vicinity all vegetation languishes and dies, and the shores
are covered as with a coat of salt. In the waters themselves no living
thing exists. Everything contributes to the ideas of solitude, silence,
sterility, mystery, ruin, and death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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