CLING CLOSE TO THE ROCK, JOHNNY.
A LONG train of cars, fourteen or fifteen, was passing over the Alleghany Mountains, on the way eastward. They were crowded with passengers. As the iron horse snorted and rushed on, the passengers felt they had begun to descend, and needed no power but the invisible force of gravitation to send them down with terrible swiftness. Just as the passengers began to realize their situation, they came to a short curve cut out of the solid rock—a wall of rock lying on each side. Suddenly a steam whistle screamed as if in agony: “Put on the brakes! put on the brakes!” Up pressed the brakes, but with no apparent slackening of the cars. Every window flew open, and every head that could be was thrust out to see what the danger was, and every one rose up in his place, fearing destruction. What was the trouble? Just as the engine began to turn into the curve, the engineer saw a little girl and baby brother playing on the track. In a moment the cars would be on them. The shriek of the whistle startled the little girl, and every eye looking over could see them. Close to the rail, in the upright rock, was a little niche, out of which a piece of rock had been blasted. In an instant the baby was thrust into this niche, and, as the cars came thundering by, the passengers, holding their breath, heard the clear voice of the little sister on the other side of the cars ring out, “Cling close to the rock, Johnny! cling close to the rock!” And the little creature snuggled in and put his head as close to the corner of the rock as possible, while the heavy cars whirred past him. And many were the moist eyes that gazed, and many a silent thanksgiving went up to heaven. In a few hours the cars stopped at a station, where an old man and his son got off. He had come so far to part with his child, who was going to an eastern city to live, while the aged father was to turn back to his home. All the dangers that would harass the son seemed to crowd into the heart of the father as he stood holding the hand of his boy, just now to part with him. He choked, and the tears filled his eyes, and all he could say was, “Cling close to the Rock, my son!” He wrung the hand of his child, and the passengers saw him standing alone, doubtless praying that his inexperienced son might “cling to the Rock Christ Jesus.”—Sunday School Visitor.