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not happy in it, the other a poor, though
clean room, and the owner filled with Peace.
A beautiful room with tinted walls,
A bust where the coloured sunlight falls,
A laceshung bed with a satin fold-
A lovely room all blue and gold-
And weariness.
A quaint old room with rafters bare,
A low white bed, a rocking chair,
A book, a stalk where a flower had been,
An open door-and all within
Peace and content,
I must not forget to tell you of another
occupant in the room, as well as myself. It
is my sweet little canary. He sings beauti-
fully, but we do not notice that so much as
his dainty little tricks. He pretends to be
angry sometimes, and peeks our fingers. He
often comforts me when I feel more downcast
than usual, and seems to say, “Cheer up,”
“Cheer u ." He is very fond of my cat,
who is 0 ten up here from early morning,
until quite late at night, when my Mother
calls him to go out. Sometimes, he will run
at once, and it is so amusing to hear him" run
up and down stairs. His little feet go, patter,
patter. Sometimes he will not go at Mother’s
call, and she has to come and fetch him.
Directly he hears her footstep, he takes hold
of me very tight, and often when she pulls
with all her might, she cannot get him away.
nm'mwu90WW.AuER’
He often comes up here in the morning, and
no one sees him, and if he cannot get in in
room, he tries to reach the latch, and shakes
the door until someone comes to open it.
Then he is in my arms with a spring. I had
him almost at the beginning of this long ill-
ness, when he was six weeks old. Some
children gave me him, who lived about 21
minutes walk from our house. The kitten’s
mother used to come every night for him, and
wait until he came, when they would run off
together to bed, which was made up for them
in a shed. Many people laugh about being
fond of a eat, but this one has been with me
in some of my extra bad attacks, and could
not be kept from me. I could not bear the
thought of parting from him, if he is, "only
a Cat.”
I think I have told about everything-ex-
cept two chairs, and a table under the window,
upon which stands a lovely bcrried plant,
given by a school friend, on my Birthday, a
few days ago. It seems to quite brighten up
the room, and reminds me of the love which
still remains in my friend's heart. I appre-
ciate it more, knowing how very frail is
human friendship, and how soon ended. But
what matters. To the Child of God, One
friend is ever near, and remaincth true, that
is-“ Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day,
and forever.”
I, like so many of your Readers, have no
work to tell you of. At one time, I was able
5 Thy love sees good for me.
to make little things to send out to Mission-
aries, and it was such a pleasure, but lately,
my strength has so declined, that it seems as
if, very soon Jesus will call me to that bean-
tiful Home, where none can say “ I am sick.”
Perhaps, it is a work given me, to strive
each day to bear with patience and submission,
the pain and weakness God has in His
infinite wisdom and love, seen fit to give me
to bear. Each one‘s work is not the same.
Some are striving to win their daily bread, and
others are striving to win souls, and to give to
them, “ The Bread of Life.”
God only can understand the longing we
imprisoned ones often have, to be up and
doing, and working for those, who in spite of
age and increasing inhrmities, are obliged to
work for us. XVell may we say-
“ Help us Lord, to bear in patience, what
11
Let my fellow-sufferers bear in mind, that,
we are not alone in our hours of pain, and
weariness. Jesus Stoops from His Throne
Above, (where His eye is ever upon ns,) to
soothe and quiet us, and tell us how He loves
us, and that in a little while He will take us
to dwell with Him in that beautiful Horne.
Until then, God be with you, and bless you
all, is the Prayer of--
Main: R. LAw.
7, ‘Vest Street,
Hertford,
December 14th, 1897. Herts.
MY room !-the cosiest, warmest corner of
asnug ivy-covered house. How canl describe
it? A friend, on first entering it exclaimed
“ kVhy, your bedroom is a drawing room!”
IVhile a young married sister, proud of her
own well-upholstered abode says of my room
contemptuously “ Quite. a girl’: room!”
lVell, I can understand both remarks. My
room has softly tinted cream and blue walls,
on which hang over 40 pictures, the most
prized being two lovel opals of my Parents
and a quaint old-worldy painting on ivory, of
my Mother when only 5 years old; rows of
stiff curls on ‘her head, a white dress with no
waist, blue satin shoes and one arm thrown
round her favorite dog. Six brackets of
various styles, a quaint folding mirror and two
pretty bookcases, also hang on the walls.
Two inviting easy chairs with down cushions,
and an inlaid Davenport -a table covered with
a many-hued Indian cloth, together with
niimberless vases and ornaments that stand on
every available ledge. All these things make
" My Room” a very pleasant and desirable
“ Vvithdrawing” room (as the word originally
stood) while, on the other hand, the absence
of design, the curious mixture of what is
nluable and what is worthless, both in in
pictures, books and ornaments, together wit
a spice of “comfortable i.tntidyness,"
sufficiently explains the young matron’s
criticism “Quite a girl's room!” I only
laughed at her, and rejoined “XVell, you
wouldn't like it to be ‘quite a boy’: room ‘would
you P " But, to continue this “ voyage autonr
dc ma chambre ”-of course I have a bed in it,
covered at this season,witha cosy Duvet-and
all my valances, chair-cushions, mantel border
and carpet, have a prevailing-hue of gold and
brown, which harmonises well with the walls.
The dainticst of carved and tiled wash stands--
wardrobe, and dressing table with 8 delightful
little drawers, complete the fittings. A
pleasant, restful “ Chamber of Peace ” I often
think, as I come in tired and draw my easy
“MY ROOMY
(ONE GUINEA.)
chair into the window, and watch the sunset
across the belt of trees beyond the garden, or,
turning a little to the South, catch the blue
outlines of the lVelsh hillsvsome 30 miles
away. A Room that hasks in almost perpetual
sunshine, and I love the sunshine-though, as I
now glance round and see my pretty, corner,
medicine cupboard, I am reminded that some-
times the venetians are drawn down, the en -
board is open, and pain and darkness ho d
sway. Other sunshine, however, is admitted
the sunshine of loving, tender deeds-a
mother‘s soothing touch. a sister’s kind
thoughtfulness, and a friend's loving devotion. '
make pain a less dreaded visitor. Oh, how
much I could tell you about “ My room ” in
the past. Here, on my bed, once lay my
snowy confirmation dress and cap, on that
"Happy day that fixed my choice” for
eternity. Here I retired with flushed face and
beating heart, to read my first love-letter.
Here, after :1 time of patient waiting, lay piles
of dainty linen, provided by a loving mother
for her eldest daughter’s departure to a new
home-and here were passed long hours of
agony, when the happy dream had vanished-
the idol fell from its niche, and a lonely,
unattached life, stretched out before one in all
its dreary unattractivcness-
“Ah well! I would not overstate that woe
“For I have had great blessings -little
care-
“ But since the falling of that heavy blow
“ Gods’ earth has never seemed to me so fair.”
But the doctrine of Divine Compensation is
a very real one. “The Lord 1': able to give
thee much more” as a dear friend whispered
to me. I have had many joys in “ my room,"
indeed there is mostly sunshine here. Some-
times it rests on the half finished picture on
my easel, and sometimes on the equivalent
that reaches me after the Exhibition ! Some-
times, as I sit reading, a tiny hand fumbles at
my door and a little voice asks “ May I tum
in ” followed by the pathetic enquiry “ Auntie,‘
hab oo anyting to amoose "me wifP” And
then dear little fingers rummage in my drawers
for any desirable object. Sometimes the
request is “A story, please Auntie,” so we
pull the easy-chairs close and the sunshine
rests on us while I tell once more the old
Bible stories so dear to every childish heart ; I
say sometimes “ Hadn’t we better go into the
Dining room dears P ” but the reply is-“ Oh
no, do let us stay here, we like your room far
the best.”
At intervals, my room is shared by the
friend whose love (passing the love of women)
has so amply filled the blank caused by man’s
unfuithfulness, and then indeed the sunshine is
complete. “A friend, you know, should be a
second self” and so she is tome. She too,
infinitely prefers “my room" to the rest of
the house, so it is the scene of our sacred talks
and readings and musings.
Indeed everyone seems to like “my room”
-the little ones creep in to prepare some
wonderful present, which “Mother mustn’t
know about, but Auntie can help in.” If
dressmaking is on the tapis, the request is,
“‘Vill you fit me in your room, its so light
and warm,” or when dressing for a concert,
“May I do my hair at lyr glass?” or again
“ Mayl go and write my etter at your Daven-
port, its so. uiet there"-and so you see I
often have visitors, and they are all welcome-v
but most welcome of all is thcilleavenl
Guest, who, when the door is shut upon al
outside wonies and distractions, stands in the
midst and says, “ Peace be unto you! ”
t I hope He will send me the “ Home Call”
in my dearly loved room-for it looks
"Towards the Sunset" and I know, (for I
have llis promise) that “ At Eventide it shall
he Light.”
IUARY 1-‘ 0WF.I.L
2, “'clliagton Road
Oxton
Cheshire.
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