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The Guardian.



NO. 12.


When Dr. Harbaugh founded the GUARDIAN, nearly thirty-three years ago, he did it under the conviction that it was his duty to provide healthy reading for young men and women. "The light reading," he said, "which so easily falls into the hands of the young by means of many of our city publications, gives a false coloring to life, turns its earnest realities into romance, and leaves blight, morbidness, and disappointment in its fearful wake." If this danger existed so long ago it has certainly since then assumed fearful proportions. Periodicals, devoted to light literature, have increased ten-fold, and their readers are at least ten times as numerous. In those days there were no weeklies full of foul and corrupting tales of theft and murder intended solely for circulation among boys and girls. One of the worst of these papers, we are told, has one hundred and fifty thousand subscribers, and no one can read a single one of its slimy pages without taint and corruption. These are the days of Dime Novels which glorify crime, and are the fruitful source of temporal and eternal ruin. Parents often fail to appreciate the danger which threatens their children from this direction, until it is to late. If there ever was a time when Christians were bound to provide the proper kind of reading for their households that time is now, and we believe it to be our mission to labor in this blessed cause. The GUARDIAN is, however, not merely a juvenile publication. It to have the successive volumes bound for aims to be a Household Magazine for future reading. An excellent Elder reyoung and old. The articles are sim-cently said: "I have taken THE GUARple in style, but at the same time em- DIAN from the beginning and the back ploy such language as will elevate the volumes are read with more pleasure by literary taste of the reader. The whole my family than any other books in my has a religious tone, but controversial possession."

matters are strictly excluded. We cannot refrain from returning our thanks to contributors who, during the year of our service, have assisted us with many interesting articles. Nothing, we venture to say, has afforded us so much pleasure as the uniform excellence of these contributions, and we heartily invite their authors to continue to assist us in our labor of love.

Our Sunday-school Department has, of late vears, increased in importance. Many Sunday-schools have subscribed for the Magazine for the double purpose of furnishing superior reading matter for the teachers, and of providing them with necessary assistance for the study of the lessons. The publication of the Scholars' Quarterly has slightly affected the circulation of the GUARDIAN, but not as much as was anticipated at the beginning of the year. The Quarterly, it should be remembered, is intended for scholars, while the GUARDIAN aims to assist teachers in their work. During the coming year the comments in THE GUARDIAN will be greatly extended, thus gratifying the wishes of many of our patrons.

It would be an excellent plan for every school to provide a sufficient number of THE GUARDIAN for the use of its teachers. This would not only aid them in their work, but would serve as an affectionate reminder of their obligations to the school. It would cost no more than a few additional volumes in the library, and would be likely to do much more good. Let teachers be encouraged to preserve the numbers and


From the German of Johannes Daniel


While Cæsar Theodosius
Was reigning with Arcadius,
This happened, as the legends say,
To Martin of Pannonia:

A trooper bold, he onward rode,
Though hard it blew and fast it snowed;
But in a hamlet, on the way,
A trembling beggar bade him stay,
And while he there his story told,
Stood shivering naked in the cold.

Our Martin would have gladly dressed
The man in doublet, coat, and vest;
But soldiers all, the people say,
Have little they can give away.
Yet while he halted on his steed,
And heard the trembling beggar plead,
He said: "The man is poor and cold;
And though, 'tis true, I have no gold,
I'll give him something, on my word!"
Without delay, he seized his sword,
Took off his mantle, cut it through,
And of one garment thus made two.
One piece around the beggar's form
He wrapped to shield him from the storm.

The beggar, then, a rich reward
Invoked upon him from the Lord;
The trooper smiled, and said: 'Tis naught!
The thing is hardly worth a thought!

It happened strangely in the night:
Awakened by a dazzling light,
His eyes the trooper opened wide,
And saw, in wonder, at his side,
A man who wore a crown of thorn;
'Twas He-'twas He--the Virgin-born!

With thousand angels at his side
He saw the Lord, the Crucified!
And in the mantle which, that day,
Our Martin of Pannonia
Had to the humble beggar given,
He saw arrayed the Lord of Heaven.

And when St. Peter sought to know,
Who could such precious gifts bestow,
The Lord, at Martin, at his feet,
Looked down and said, in accents sweet:
"Twas Martin here who gave me this,
And his reward he shall not miss.
Be of good cheer! Arise, my son!
A crown of glory thou hast won.
Thy heathen darkness turns to-day,
Then put thy cruel sword away!
From henceforth thou shalt fight for me,
And Bishop Martin thou shalt be!"

"Do'st see the mantle that I wear?"
The Saviour said to Peter there;

Then when our Lord these words had said,
The morning dawned, the sky grew red;
An angel kissed the mantle's seam,
And Martin woke, as from a dream.
But soon as chroniclers relate,
He humbly sought a convent's gate,
And then became a bishop great,
Alike renowned in church and state.


A Christmas Surprise.

The crisp air of December vibrated with the merry peal of Christmas bells, and the frozen snow gave out the crack

The beggar said his "Gratias!"'
And straightway let the soldier pass;

Who quickly sought his quarters, where ling sound that children love, under

He shared a widow's humble fare.
He took a little food and drink-
It surely was not much, we think-
And when he had thus drunk and eaten,
He said the prayers that slumbers sweeten,
And sought his pallet for the night,
Hoping to sleep till morning's light.
The hour the story does not tell,
But that, perhaps, is just as well.

many passing feet. People were hurry-
ing about on all manner of festival
business, driven to unwonted brisk-
ness by the cold atmosphere, as well as
by the shortness of that most crowded
day of the year. Expressmen, letter-
carriers, bakers' and
bakers' and confectioners'
boys, men, women and children, bound
on their errands and on other people's,
with eager eyes and faces, red from the
kisses of the rough north wind, were
jostling each other like the restless
waves of an unquiet sea. But amid ail
the ebbings and flowings of the throng
that filled the streets of the great city,
there were steady streams that flowed
hither and thither as if drawn by those
vibrant echoing bells,-treams that
flowed toward the open doors of God's
houses, and into them, and there sub-
sided into a holy and joyous calm.

Such was the destination of the two


Two faces, very different, yet very much alike. Two faces, at which the thought'ul passer-by might well wish for a second glance, though they were only those of a poor old woman and a little child.

to whom I have alluded-a woman of had been a carpenter; but several perhaps sixty-five years, and her little months before, in descending from a granddaughter. Tears and cares had high scaffolding, had made a mis-stepsilvered the old lady's head, and fur- had fallen-and that moment ended rowed her face with wrinkles; still her active work for him forever. The figure was upright, her step even some- mother's industrious hands had hitherto what elastic, and her dark eyes bright been able to provide for the wants of and earnest. And although there was her two children; but on Christmas a shade of sorrow upon her face and Eve the factory in which she had found the firm lips were occasionally com- employment had closed, on account of pressed as if by pain, yet her prevail- financial troubles. The times were ing look was one of settled peace, or hard, provisions dear, and Sara was alserenity, like that of the upper atmos- most a stranger in the city, to which phere, too perfect for any passing cloud they had come in the preceding spring, to disturb. when Carl entered upon his last "job."

The little girl, who held her hand, No wonder that the fine old face was and came along beside her with an oc-clouded, though it was Christmas morncasional hop and skip, had to judge ing.

from her wistful glance now and then She bowed, as was her wont, in silent cast upward, a dia perception of the prayer, and then sat reverently waiting shadow on the dear old face; yet, with for the portion that was to be her's that instinctive delicacy, she asked no ques-day. It was not long in reaching her. tions, but only held the toil-worn hand From the opening of the service, in the tightly in her soft fingers, and prattled name of the Triune God, every word on as if trying to beguile her grand-sauk into her heart like good seed into mother out of her sad thoughts, what-long prepared soil. The lessons comever they might be. mencing with the Word that was in the "Hither, ye faithful!" rang the beginning, and ending with that grand bells. "To us this day is born a Prince outlook into eternity to come: and Saviour. O come, and let us worship "Thou remainest,-Thou art the at His feet!" Then the chimes pealed same, and Thy years shall not fail!" again, and quickly, and more quickly, seemed to lift her up, as on eagles' till the whole air seemed to be filled with wing, to the beholding of the glory of waves of melody. As the grandmother the Word, "full of grace and truth." and child crossed the sacred threshold, all The care that lay on her mind was not, was still for a second or so; then a lit could not be forgotten, but every tle bell, high in the octave, uttered one thought concerning it was crystallized soft sound, and the organ responded into a prayer. with a joyful voluntary. The child's eyes shone with solemn delight at the dearly-loved music at the beautifully decorated church, and the throng of glad worshippers around. Her grandmother smiled down upon her upturned face; but the shadow still rested upon "Thou didst become a little child, O her own. my Lord!" her heart responded. What was the trouble of old Sara" And what am I, but a little child beHeldinn? A heroic heart, it is true, fore Thee? My threescore years are throbbed beneath her threadbare gray but infancy to Thee, who art from shawl; but not even a hero's heart can the beginning. Lead Thou me, as I contemplate unmoved that sorest of lead my little Bertha! Hold us all in trials, the sufferings of the beloved. It Thine hand, for my work is Toine! was the old story, so o'ten repeated. Thou hast provided for to-day, Thou Here was her little Bertha, her eight wilt provide for to-morrow!" years' old darling, and at home lay the With "salvation from sin and eternal child's fa her, her widowed son Carl, life" in Christ, all things, she felt, were long her only support, but now the included. The shade of care passed hop less victim of a spinal disease. He from her soul and from her face, and

"We bless Thee for Thy conception by the Holy Ghost, and for Thy birth of the blessed Virgin, whereby Thou hast become the true seed of Abraham, and didst take upon Thyself all our sins and infirmities."

higher and more joyously her thoughts arose, uniting with "the multitude of angels" and with God's "people among all nations in the everlasting song, "Glory to God in the highest!"


spired, thus solaced with peace and joy, and absolute trust, she turned toward home with her little one by her side.

There was a Christmas dinner, too; All the rest of the service was to her but certainly it was no subject for an as one grand canticle of praise, appetizing description. There "Blessed be His gracious Name for- en ugh of potatoes and salt; there was ever and ever-and let the whole earth as careful crockery and as delicate serbe filled with His glory!" Thus in-vice as though these had been all the luxuries of the season; and that was the whole feast. For the rest there never was a better illustration of the superior excellence of the "dinner of herbs, where love is." For dessert they had the two apples, which unselfish little Bertha insisted should be divided, so that her grandmother and her father might share them. The short winter afternoon passed rapidly away in reading, and in quiet, happy talk. It was twilight, and Sara Heldinn, who could not long be idle, sat near her son, knitting while she talked.

"Home" was but three little rooms in a tenement house. it is true; but they were bright with cleanliness, and the brighter to the returning worshippers, for the welcome of Carl Heldinn's patient smile. From day to day, in the intervals of pain, his fingers were busy fashioning delicate bits of wood-carving. It had been his amusement as a boy, and was now his only hope for lightening his mother's cares. They had not, it is true, found very ready sale for his work, as yet, but with true German perseverance he still went on with it. On a small side table stood a little Christmas tree, and under it lay two pieces of his work, carefully wrought for gifts to his mother and his child. A head-plate with ears of wheat, and the motto "Unser täglich Brodt gieb uns heute," the dear old German words he knew would be sweet to Sara, was the gift that with most unconscious appositeness he had made her. A little figure of the Lamb bearing the cross was the delight of Bertha's eyes.

mother's own fingers. All these treesures were lighted up, on Christmas Eve, with a few carefully preserved candle ends.

Their recollections had gone back to Carl's boyish days, and the Christmas trees that had grown along the path of his childhood.


"I cannot remember a Christmas without one," remarked Carl. oh, mother, do you remember Will Fenimore, and how he looked the first time he saw me at our house?"

"Poor Will!" replied Mrs. Heldinn, "his first ten years must have been hard indeed!"

"Yes; and but for you, Mütterchen, and father, I suppose he would have known many more such. There would have been no refuge for him but the poorhouse. It is so strange that we have not heard from him for so many years!"

"If he is living, I am sure he never forgets us!" answered Sara, her motherheart swift to defend even the fosterson of her charity.

"I hope not!" Carl replied, but a little doubtfully.

The poor Christmas tree had a history of its own. It had seem d a special providence to Sara, whose festival would have been sadly incomplete without this small pleasure for the child. Bertha herself had brought home the hemlock bough from the church, where the Sunday-school children were permitted to assist in the decoration, and carry home the remaining greens, if they wished. The bite of red and white candy, and the two ruddy "Bald-swering by a knock at the door. Berwins" had been given to Mother Hel- tha ran to open it, and they heard a dinn by the woman who kept the green deep voice, asking, "Does Mrs. Heldgrocery where she dealt, expressly for inn live here?" Bertha-the child being an especial favorite with the storekeeper. The little crimson mittens and stockings had been knit at night by the grand

His mother was prevented from_an

Sara came forward, and looked inquiringly at the stranger.

"Oh, Mutter Heldinn, do you not know me!"

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Poor Carl looked a little pale and sad while the young man poured out this long, impetuous speech; but smiled like the hero he was, upon his mother,

concealing his own pain in seeing what should have been his work for her in the hands of another. He had his reward.

In the mother's eyes stood tears, that all her cares and perplexities had failed to bring there; but her face shone with holy gratitude.

"Shall we go, my son?" she cried. "For the Lord, who came to earth for us and for our salvation, has surely sent Will home to us at this time to keep us from di-tress. For oh, Carl, I can tell you now what I could not bear to let you know before-the factory is closed, and I have no more work there for this winter, at least. But God provided for to-day, and now He has taken care for to-morrow, even before it comes! My children, never let us mistrust the tender mercy of our Lord!"



"And now, mother Heldinn, I have a great request to make of you! I have not come back a wealthy man, as I fancied I should, when I went from your care out into the world. But I have tried to make my life worthy of the lessons you and Father Heldinn taught me. And now I have come to be the working partner, to superintend

lage. Mother, you will come and keep house for me, will you not? I have bought back the old home, and we will all be together there. Carl can have the loveliest models for his wood carvings, and I know I can find sale for

a new woolen-mill in the dear old vil-portant to claim our attention. Though the Reformed Church of England differs widely from other Protestant bodies, especially in external organization, it is easy to show that at the beginning it stood in the most intimate relations with the churches of the Continent. Indeed, it history it was generally recognized as is not too much to say that in its earlier

them all. And Bertha will grow up tall and rosy and strong. And we shall employ young women from the city here, and you will be a good mother to them, as you were to me when I was a poor little waif! What good Christmas days we shall make for them! You will not say No, Mother Held inn, am I not your other son, and Carl's brother?"

one of the branches of the Reformed Church. "The Anglican, that is, the different from the rest of the Reformed English Church," says Stilling, "is only Church in this, that it has an Episcopal form of Government. Are the Swedish

and Danish Churches not Lutheran because they have bishops? Does the garment make the man ?”*

English writers have asserted, on the basis of tradition, that Christianity was

* Warhrheit in Liebe, p. 228.


Relations with the Church of England. It is not our intention to give an account of the English Reformation. There are, however, some facts in connection with that great movement which, though frequently ignored, are sufficiently in

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