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think of his conduct or performances, sure of seeing it, the pleasure of mediwhen it is for his interest or usefulness to know it. To express to a friend deserved approbation, is generally proper. -Young Man's Aid.


tating upon it, and the pleasure of en-
tertaining her friends with it."
then told her she had forgotten the
most material part; and upon her
being very desirous to know what he
meant, he informed her that it was the
pleasure she would have in meditating
upon it in a dying hour, and on the
judgment-day. It is said that she saw
the propriety of the observation, and
from that time renounced her worldly
pursuits, and sought pleasure in the
ways of the Lord.

BURKE'S CHARACTER OF HOWARD. -He visited all Europe and the East; not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity of modern art, nor to collect medals, nor to collate manuscripts ;-but to dive into the depth of dungeons-to plunge THE SCRIPTURES INEXHAUSTIBLE. into the infection of hospitals-to sur-Under date of January 26, 1804, a vey the mansions of sorrow and of friend of the late Rev. John Newton pain-to take the gauge and dimen- observes, "He told me that after he sions of misery, depression, and con- was settled at Olney, and had preached tempt to remember the forgotten- six sermons, he thought he had told to attend to the neglected-to visit the them his whole stock, and was conforsaken-and to compare and collate siderably depressed. 'But,' said he, 'I the distresses of all mankind in all was walking one afternoon by the side countries. His plan was original, and of the river Ouse; I asked myself, How it was as full of genius as it was of long has this river run? Many hundred humanity. It was a voyage of dis- years before I was born, and will cercovery, a circumnavigation of charity; tainly run many years after I am gone. and already the benefit of his labour is Who supplies the fountain from whence felt more or less in every country. this river comes? God. Is not the fund of my sermons equally inexhaustible-the word of God? Yes, surely. I have never been afraid of running out since that time.' I asked if he had consumed all the variety in the Bible now he was an old man and an old minister? He smiled and said, 'O no, Sir! O no, Sir !'"

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE THEATRE. -The excellent James Hervey, of Weston Favell, was once travelling with a lady in a stage-coach, who entertained her fellow passengers by repeating the substance of a play which she had seen the night before, and at length she said, "She had a threefold pleasure in it; and that was, the plea




LET's sit down and talk together
Of the things of olden day,
When we, like lambkins loosed from

Gaily tripp'd along the way:
Time has touch'd us both with lightness,
Leaving furrows here and there,

And tinging with peculiar brightness
Silvery threads among our hair.

Let's sit down and talk together;

Many years away have pass'd,

And fair and foul has been the weather
Since we saw each other last.
Many whom we loved are living

In a better world than this,
And some among us still are giving

Toil and thought to present bliss.

Let's sit down and talk together;
Though the flowers of youth are dead,
Sweet ferns still grow among the

And for us their fragrance shed.
Life has thousand blessings in it,
Even for the aged man,
For God has hid in every minute
Something for our eyes to scan.

Let's sit down and talk together;

Boys we were-we now are men; We meet awhile-but know not whether We shall meet to talk again. Parting time has come; how fleetly Speed the moments when their wings Are fan'd by breathings issued sweetly From a tongue that never stings!



DOWN from the willow bough My slumb'ring harp I'll take, And bid its silent strings

To heavenly themes awake: Peaceful let its breathings be, Soft and soothing harmony.

Love, LOVE DIVINE, I sing:
Oh for a seraph's lyre,
Bathed in Siloa's stream,

And touch'd with living fire: Lofty, pure, the strain should be, When I sing of Calvary!

Love, Love, on earth appears!

The wretched throng his way; He beareth all their griefs,

And wipes their tears away: Soft and sweet the strain should be, Saviour, when I sing of Thee !

He saw me as he pass'd

In hopeless sorrow lie, Condemn'd and doom'd to death, And no salvation nigh: Long and loud the strain should be, When I sing His love to me!

"I die for thee," He said,

Behold the cross arise; And, lo! He bows his head

He bows his head, and dies!

Soft, my harp, thy breathings be, Let me weep on Calvary !

He lives! again he lives!

I hear the voice of Love; He comes to soothe my fears,

And draw my soul above: Joyful now the strain should be, When I sing of Calvary!


THERE'S not a cheaper thing on earth,
Nor yet one half so dear;
T is worth more than distinguish'd

Or thousands gain'd a year.
It lends the day a new delight,
'T is virtue's firmest shield;
And adds more beauty to the night
Than all the stars can yield.

It maketh poverty content,

To sorrow whispers peace;
It is a gift from Heaven sent
For mortals to increase.

It meets you with a smile at morn,
It lulls you to repose;

A flower for peer or peasant born,

An everlasting rose.

A charm to banish grief away,

To snatch the frown from care; Turn tears to smiles, make dulness gay; Spread gladness everywhere; And yet 't is cheap as summer dew That gems the lily's breast; A talisman for love, as true

As ever man possess'd.

As smiles the rainbow through the cloud When threatening storm beginsAs music 'mid the tempest loud,

That still its sweet way wins; As springs an arch across the time,

Where waves conflicting foam, So comes the seraph to our side, This angel of our home.

What may this wondrous spirit be,

With power unheard beforeThis charm-this bright divinity? Good temper-nothing more! Good temper-'t is the choicest gift That woman homeward brings; And can the poorest peasant lift To bliss unknown to kings!

The Children's Gallery.

AN AWFUL WARNING. THAT "the way of transgressors is hard," is a truth not to be controverted, and is awfully exemplified in the following case of a young man, whose father and mother were like good Zachariah and Elizabeth, "walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the. Lord blameless," and are honourable in the sphere in which they move:-It pleased God to give them two children, both sons, whom they brought up in the fear of God, always taking them to the house of prayer whenever opportunity offered, and always teaching and instructing them in the great truths of the gospel of God our Saviour. When arrived at a proper age, the eldest son commenced business in a large manufacturing town, and carried on a considerable trade for some years; but, alas! when from under the eye of his parents, and feeling no restraint, he soon contracted evil habits, and found acquaintances with vile and dissolute characters, frequenting publichouses, associating with abandoned sons, and soon, very soon, deserted and forgot the house of the God of his fathers; and became so hardened and bold in wickedness, as openly to blaspheme, in the most awful and appalling manner, the name of the Most High God.


"The wicked is driven away in his wickedness," saith the wise king; and so it proved with this poor and wretched man; for, on going one evening to his father's house, a distance of about four miles, he called, when near home, at a

public-house on the road-side; here he got drunk, and became very violent, swearing and blaspheming, and using language too awful to be repeated, so that the landlord refused to let him have more liquor. He then left the house in a passion, and proceeded to go to his father's; but, ah! he never arrived there, but went to his long, long home! He was found, the following morning, drowned in the canal; whether he had missed his way and had fallen in, or had gone determined to drown himself, could not be ascer

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MARY ANN ROSE was born December 2, 1827, of honest and industrious parents. When about fourteen years of

age, she came as servant in a serious family, in a village near Bury St. Edmund, where she continued about four years. The friends under whose roof she resided, testify to her kind and She then reobliging disposition. moved to Ipswich, where she lived for a year; and from thence she removed to Bramford. Here she was seized with a bad cough, and consumption soon followed, which led to her return to the house of her parents about the middle of June. Our friend, under whose roof she had lived, and myself were anxiously concerned for the salvation of her soul; we therefore continued to visit and converse, and read and pray with her at every suitable

opportunity. She was first directed to seek the Lord while he is to be found, (Isaiah liii. 6, 7.) But she continued in a listless and uncomfortable state of mind; and on one occasion I felt much grieved when, after the afternoon service, I called with a female friend to see her, and asked the question, “Shall I read and pray with you?" it appeared to me a reluctant "Yes." Afterwards she candidly confessed to her father she did not wish to see us. On being asked, "Are you prepared to die?" she replied,


In this state of mind she continued till the evening of Friday, Sept. 3rd, when she sent to our friend. He says: "I shall never forget the Christian love and ardour with which she received me, shaking both my hands; saying, Oh, sir, I can tell you something: I am happy now!' I said, 'Do you feel Christ precious?' 'Oh, yes!' was her reply: I am now ready to go; and repeated part of the 23rd Psalm, and a verse from Wesley's Hymns:

"Oh! that my load of sin were gone; Oh! that I could at last submit At Jesus' feet to lay it down,

To lay my soul at Jesus' feet."

On the following Monday night, her father sitting up with her, she began praising the Lord. Her father said, "I hope we shall meet in heaven!" She replied, "Hope will not do alone; you must seek and strive;" and then exhorted them all to praise the Lord for his goodness. She continued in this happy state of mind, saying, "Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there?' Oh, yes; I have found it!" When asked, if she wished to get well again; her answer was, No, not for the world!" She told me she had disliked the visits of God's people, but now she loved them: "I wish I could see them; I would tell


them." Here strength failed, and

she could not finish the sentence. As soon as she recovered, she repeated part of the hymn we often sing:

"Welcome, sweet day of rest.". From this time she lay insensible, and without the power of speech, till,

without a sigh or groan, her spirit passed, we trust, to the mansion in the skies, on Wednesday morning, September 8th. J. B.


MARY LEE is a kind little girl. She loves everything; and when she sees any creature hurt, it makes her cry. When Mary was a babe, just big enough to sit on the floor alone, her father brought her a lamb. At first she did not like the looks of the wool; she was afraid to put her fingers on Baa!" and Mary cried.

the lamb. The little lamb said, " Baa! She did not know that was the way little lambs But very soon Mary loved the



When her brother George asked her, "What is little Mary?" she would say, "Ma wee is mother's pet lamb." And "What is the when he asked her, lamb?" she would say, "The lamb is Ma-wee's friend."

Every night the lamb stood beside her when she eat her bread and milk; and she fed him in her little apron, Sometimes, when she drew her little cart about the room, the lamb ran after her; and, oh! how Mary would clap her hands and laugh. Nancy, the nurse, would laugh too; for she loved little Mary, and was pleased to see her happy.

Every day the lamb grew bigger. One day George led his little sister out to the barn, and there she found two little baby lambs. One of them was a black lamb, and one was a white lamb.

Mary ran into the house and told her nurse, Nancy, that her lamb had two baby lambs, and one was black and the other white. Nancy was a black woman. She had a little boy named Thomas. George and Mary were white children; Thomas was a black child. Thomas loved George and Thomas. Mary; and George and Mary loved

Nancy went out to the barn with the children to see the lambs. Little Mary said, What makes one lamb white and the other black?" Nancy told her, God makes the


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The little girl said, "I love my father, and my mother, and Nancy, and George, and Thomas. I love you dearly, Nancy; you are always good to me. God loves George, and Thomas, and me, when we are good children. And God loves the little white lamb, and little black lamb, when they are good lambs. I suppose lambs are always good; but little children are naughty sometimes. Henry Pratt struck good little Thomas, and called him a nigger, and that made me cry. My little white lamb loves the black lamb; but Henry Pratt struck good little Thomas, and called him names. That was very naughty."

Then the little chatter-box put her arms round Nancy's neck, and went to sleep. Nancy kissed Mary's cheek, and covered her up all warm.


As I sat in my chamber, I saw a little girl working by the light of a candle. It was burnt down almost to the socket. I perceived that she plied her needle very fast; and, at length, I overheard her saying to herself, "I must be very industrious; for this is the only candle I have, and it is almost gone."

What a moral there is, thought I, in the words of this child! Surely I may learn wisdom from it. Life is but a short candle. It is almost gone, and I have no other. How earnestly engaged should I then be in every duty of life. While I have the light of life, how careful should I be to perform everything enjoined by my heavenly Master.

1. I ought to be in haste to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling; knowing, that when this light is extinguished, there is no other allowed to mortals for preparation.

2. I ought to be all alive to the immortal interests of my fellow-creatures; working while it is called to-day; striv ing to bring sinners to the Lord Jesus Christ: for my brief candle is soon to go out, and there can be no conversion of sinners in another world.

3. I ought to be unceasingly active in every act of benevolence, making as many happy as I can; relieving the miserable, and doing good to all within my reach; for this light is soon to be put out, and in the other world the miserable and suffering will be beyond my reach.

4. I ought to use every talent for the glory of God and the kingdom of Christ; working the words of Him that sent me while it is day, because the night cometh in which no man can work.

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest," Eccles. ix. 10.


IT is no uncommon practice with certain persons in this country, on particular occasions, to allow merry-meetings to workmen, when drunkenness, with all its evils, is a frequent consequence. These sorts of people have much pleasure in having their healths drank by crowds, and delight in the revelry and noise which are occasioned. Surely a better plan would be, to give them a little food to carry home to their families. There is a dreadful account of a meeting of this kind in Russia, which happened in 1779:

One of the farmers of the brandy duty, who had made an immense fortune by his contract, proposed to give a feast to the inhabitants of the city (Petersburgh), in testimony of his gratitude to those who had enriched him. The victuals, the beer, and the brandy, which he caused to be served, cost him 20,000 rubles! The populace flocked in crowds to the place, adjoining to the summer-gardens, where he gave this enormous repast; and in spite of the precautions that had been taken,

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