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STRANGE things are seen in Naples | monks. These services are attended by crowds of people, who are eagerly inquiring after the new doctrines, and purchasing Bibles. A few years ago it was almost impossible to find an Italian Bible in any of the bookshops, except at a costly price; but

in these days, things which a few years ago none would have ventured to hope for. The pure Gospel of Jesus Christ is now openly preached by such men as Gavazzi and others, who were once Popish priests or October 1861.

74

LARGE-HEARTED LIBERALITY.

now, as you pass along the Toledo, the principal street of Naples, you see more than half a dozen stalls of Bibles, Testaments, and religious books, belonging to colporteurs who have been sent from France and Northern Italy, and who state that their sales are very large.

Let us pray for poor Italy, that her children may enjoy the true

LARGE-HEARTED

Or all givers, those who, like the
Christians of Macedonia, "out of
their deep poverty abound in the
riches of their liberality,'
"" are the
noblest. Amongst the pious poor
there are many such. The following
are a few out of many cases of this
kind.

A young servant girl, quiet and modest, who had felt much interest in Missions and Missionary Meetings, became ill and died. When near her end, her mother asked her what money she had in the Savings' Bank, or elsewhere, and received an account of all that she possessed. But a sovereign, which her mistress had been so kind as to give her as a Christmas present, was not mentioned, and she was asked where it was. She replied, "Dear mother, you know I brought it to you, and begged you to take it, but you would not." She

liberty which the Bible teaches, and which only Christ can give.

The people of Naples have always been remarkable for their love of pleasure, and for their blind superstition; but if they become Bible readers and Bible Christians, what a mighty change will be seen in them! There will then be "great joy in that city."

LIBERALITY.

did not wish to say more, but her mother still inquired where it was. She then said, "Dear mother, when you said you did not want it, I thought I might do what I liked with it; so, when I went back, I went into the best bed-room, downed on my knees, and put it into the Missionary box, and I felt so happy." The little box was not opened for some months after her peaceful death; but when it was, there indeed was the golden offering, which this poor girl had so secretly and so prayerfully given to the Lord.

There was a poor widow in one of the midland counties, who also loved the missionary cause, and desired to help it. Having attended a missionary meeting, she waited until most of the people had left, when going quietly up to the minister, she put her hand into her pocket and drew

LARGE-HEARTED LIBERALITY.

out more than a sovereign, saying, "It is only a little that such a one as I can do, but I wish to do all I can." The minister said, "I can't

take this.

I am sure you can't spare it." With much feeling she answered, "I could do very well with it all, sir, but I dare not touch it: I promised it to God, and you must have it for the missionaries." The min

ister asked what she meant by promising it to God, when she told him that, some months before, she had been at a missionary meeting, and that one of the speakers mentioned the case of a poor man, who, having no spare money, resolved to give the fruit of one of his pear-trees to the good cause, which that year had been sold for nearly two pounds. And then she continued: "I had no garden, nor pear-tree, and so I could not help in that way; but I thought I would find out some plan for raising a bit of money. At length I thought that, as I knew something about herbs, I could make horehound lozenges, which would do good to people who had colds and coughs. | So I bought some brown sugar, and began my work." Her trade, she said, "had prospered wonderfully. The lozenges had done a power of good to many people. I have boiled up a hundred pounds of sugar. There you have the money. I promised it

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to God, and I dare not touch it; and I mean to go on with my work."

In a retired village there was a very poor man, who got his small living by breaking stones upon the roads. But though he worked hard, and earned but little, to the surprise of all who knew his poverty, he gave, for him, large sums to Christian Societies. A Bible Meeting had been held at that village, and when it was over, this rich poor man hobbled up on two sticks to the table, and put down ten shillings. A stranger who saw this expressed his surprise, as he might well do, when the clergyman of the parish, who was present, told him that this was no uncommon thing. "The fact is," he added, "the

old man is called a miser for Christ. He is alone in the world, and lives by himself in a wretched little cottage, and whatever he can scrape together is given to the cause of God."

This poor man suffered much from rheumatism, and fancied that "Old Parr's pills" did him good. So one day a kind lady took a box of these pills to his cottage when he was suffering much from his complaint. But she was disappointed at the way in which he received them. Instead of expressing pleasure and thankfulness, he only shook his head, as if he thought she had done wrong. "Why, William," said the lady, "I

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FEKOU was one of the Basutos in South Africa, and on his conversion gave the following account of himself to the missionary :—

"I was living at Koloane, when your arrival in our country first became known. I was then only a boy. The people said to me, 'What do you think? Three white men have just arrived. They pull people's skins off, and change an old man into a young man.' I was coming home from gathering wood, and

when they saw my bundle, they said, 'Look, Fekou, they can shew you how to cook this wood into food, without burning it.' 'But who knows,' I asked, 'whether they will not cook us also? Don't you think that they are cannibals?' 'Oh dear, no; just as if one of us should break an earthen vessel all to pieces, and push it into the oven, and find it come out again quite new, so they do to men.'

"Full of curiosity, I ran up to

FEKOU'S STORY OF HIMSELF.

77

struck us very much was the colour of the paper, and the strange shapes of the letters, which we called

the white men; but no sooner did I
see them than I jumped back—I was
so frightened. Their white skins,
their long smooth hair, their plea-grains.'
sant voices—which, however, I could
not understand at all; all these
things made me wonder very much.
At the left side of their hut there
was standing a large heap of wood,
which they told me was their waggon.
Its feet (the wheels) were on the
ground; they were round, and full
of bars of wood (the spokes); it was
a thing like a cavern turned upside
down, and covered with something
white. This, I was told, was the hut
of their waggon.
I seemed to be in
a dream.

"The Korannas used often to
attack us in former days; but, since
the white men came, they have not
been seen. Wars used to make our
country a wilderness, but they have
come to an end now. And since
then, too, the cannibals have ceased
eating men.
'How beautiful upon
the mountains are the feet of him
that bringeth good tidings, that pub-
lisheth peace!'

"One day my chief said to me, Fekou, the missionary says, the children ought to come to him, and learn to read.' I went, and for the first time in my life saw a printed book. Lekoa, Ezekiel, Richard, and Molasso were with me. What

We began to learn to

read. Molasso was the first who
learned, then Ezekiel, then Richard,
and lastly, myself. But this was
not all. We became interested in
what we read. The book excited
our thoughts very much, and made
our bosoms swell with new and
strange feelings. It was one Christ-
mas especially that I felt deeply,
when I saw how Kouyane lifted up
his hand to heaven, and solemnly
promised to give up the service and
the sins of the world, and to cling to
God alone. This went to my heart.
"How difficult it is for a man to
be converted ! One of my friends
said to me once, I have found such
a beautiful thing.' 'Where?' 'In
my book' (the Bible). 'It is a lie,'
I said. 'No, only read it.'
I read;
it was the parable of the grain of
mustard seed. I secretly murmured,
'It is all a fable,' although I was thus
speaking wickedly of God's most holy
Word. I am ashamed when I think
of it. When Molasso left us to go
with our missionary to Cape Town,
an arrow from the Lord pierced my
heart. My friend Timotheus was
struck in the same way. In secret
I wept bitterly. The hymn-

"There is a city in the skies,'

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