THE GREAT PHYSICIAN

 ELLEN was as good as her word. In spite of her disinclination to go to the meeting, she left home a little before seven, and slowly made her way to Farmer Holroyd's barn. She was exceedingly fond of her little brother Jerry, and would have done anything even more disagreeable to her feelings to procure him gratification.

The air was so fresh and sweet on this July evening, and the way through the fields so pleasant, that Ellen did not feel disposed to hurry herself. She climbed to the top of a hedge to gather some dog-roses that grew there, then spying some wild strawberries on the other side, clambered down to refresh herself with them. She lost so much time thus, that when she reached the barn, she found that the service had already commenced, and every seat was taken except those in close proximity to the little table at which the preacher was stationed, a position which she would gladly have avoided.

There was no help for it, however, and she had to push her way to the vacant place through the midst of the little congregation, who were heartily singing the hymn with which the service opened.

Such meetings as this were welcomed by not a few in that country district, which lay several miles from any church, and whose scattered inhabitants depended entirely for religious instruction on the occasional visit of an evangelist such as the one about to address them. At a brief notice, many persons would gather together in a barn or cottage to hear the Word, some cheerfully coming a considerable distance for the purpose.

Ellen felt the preacher's eye rest upon her with a glance of recognition as she seated herself but a few feet in front of him. She had seldom been to such a meeting before, for Mrs. Mansfield, although brought up in a Christian home, had suffered the cares of this life to render her indifferent to all that concerned the eternal life beyond, and had allowed her family to grow up almost in ignorance of that Saviour who is peculiarly the friend of the poor and heavy laden.

Sundays passed much as other days in their home, and the Bible would have been unread had it not been for Jerry, who, having exhausted the contents of all the other books, took to reading it. And found so much therein to interest and soothe him, and at the same time so much to excite wonder, that he never tired of it, and was continually proposing to his mother questions concerning its truths which she found hard to answer.

In the hope of being able to understand his thoughts, and sympathise with them, she had lately begun to read the Scriptures again herself, and the sacred words awoke the echoes of a Christian father's voice, long since silenced by death, and stirred within her contrition and shame. She inwardly longed to accompany Ellen, and listen once more to the word of truth; but if she did so, who would attend to the dairy, or look after the baby, or soothe Jerry, if he had one of his bad attacks of pain? No, the busy mother's place was at home, and He who had laid these burdens upon her would not suffer them to hinder her approach unto Himself, but would draw nigh to her and help her to bear them, if she would only let Him.

Ellen thought of Jerry when the preacher announced his text, for it was Mark's graphic statement concerning the Saviour:

"As many as touched Him were made whole."

She prepared herself to listen attentively, and soon became so interested in the speaker's words, that she could not help doing so. She felt sorry when he ceased, and would gladly have listened to him longer. She was pleased to see that he had with him a number of little books and tracts, which he began to distribute to the people at the close of the service, for she knew how glad Jerry would be to have one.

As she went forward to take a book from his hand, the preacher smiled kindly upon Ellen, and said, "I am glad you were able to come after all. Remember, 'As many as touched Him were made whole.'"

He was not able to say more, for the people were gathering about him to receive tracts, but the words made a lasting impression on Ellen's mind.

Half an hour later, she was seated beside her little brother's bed, doing her best to give him an account of the address to which she had listened. It was surprising how difficult she found it to remember the preacher's words, although they had interested her so much. When she had repeated the text she was silent for a while, trying to put into shape the vague notions which were all her mind had retained.

"'As many as touched Him were made whole,'" repeated Jerry. "Tell me all he said about it, Ellen."

"I will tell you all I can remember," replied his sister. "I forget exactly how he began, but I know he said how eagerly those who had sick friends brought them to Jesus, for then I thought of you, Jerry. They brought them and laid them in the streets, that they might touch the hem of His garment; and those who touched merely the border of the long, flowing robe He wore were made whole."

"Yes, I know that," returned Jerry, who had got hold of his mother's Bible and found the passage; "it says so here. What else did he say? Did he say whether Christ will make people whole now?"

"Yes; he said Jesus is the same now as He was in the days when He lived on the earth. He called Him the Great Physician, and that means a doctor, you know, Jerry. But I am not sure that He heals people in the way you mean," she hastened to add, as she caught the eager glance her brother cast upon her.

"I scarcely know how to explain it to you, but the preacher said it was sin that caused all the sickness and sorrow that there is in the world. Before Adam and Eve sinned, pain was not known. He said sin was worse than any bodily disease—far more terrible even than the leprosy, which is described in the Bible, and of which he spoke a good deal. Oh dear, I wish I could remember better. He said we were all infected with it, and were not able to cure ourselves, but Christ could heal us, and if we only touched Him by faith, He would make us whole. He spoke as if we were all dreadful sinners, and I fancied he looked at me in particular; yet I am sure I am no worse than other girls. I don't steal, or tell lies, or use bad words, so I really don't see that I am so very wicked."

"But didn't he say anything about Jesus curing people's bodies?" asked poor Jerry, anxiously.

"No, dear; it was all about the soul, and how we were to be saved from sin. He said we must go in faith to Jesus, just as the poor woman did who touched Him in the crowd, or the blind man who cried to Him as He came out of Jericho. What we all wanted, he said, was to have our sins forgiven; and only Jesus can forgive sins."

"Yes," observed Jerry, who was well acquainted with the gospel narrative, "Jesus used to forgive the sins of those whom He cured. Do you think I am very wicked, Nelly?"

Tears were in the boy's eyes, and his sister stooped down and kissed him fondly as she answered, "No, that I am sure you are not, Jerry."

"And yet I must be," returned Jerry, "if it is sin that causes suffering, as you say the preacher said."

Ellen looked perplexed. "I am afraid I have not told it you rightly, Jerry, for I know he said we ought not to say of any one that because he was greatly afflicted, therefore he was a great sinner. If we did so, we should be like the Pharisees, who considered the man who was born blind a sinner. Don't you trouble yourself about that, dear. I am sure you are not very sinful."

Jerry sighed. "Is there nothing else you can tell me, Nelly?" he asked, after a pause.

Ellen tried to think of something that might comfort him. "I remember the preacher said that, whatever might be our sins and sorrows, they could not be beyond Christ's power to heal. Just as He could cure all manner of diseases when on earth, so now He can relieve all our wants, and help us in all our distresses."

"Did he say that?" asked Jerry eagerly.

"Yes, I think I have repeated his words correctly," replied his sister.

The boy's face took a more hopeful expression as he continued to turn over the leaves of the Bible which he held in his hand. After a while, however, he ceased to do so, and Ellen, bending over him, saw that he had fallen asleep with his finger resting on the passage which tells how as many as touched the Saviour were made whole.