the folding room, when one of the pieces was found short of the required number of yards. "Come," says Mr. B-, "it is but a trifle. We shall soon stretch it, and make out the yard. Come, Adam, take one end and pull against me." Adam had neither ears nor heart for the proposal, and absolutely refused to do what he thought a dishonest thing. A long argument and expostulation followed, in which the usages of the trade were strongly and variously enforced; but all in vain. Adam kept to his purpose, resolving to sufer rather than sin. Mr. B -was therefore obliged to call for one of his men less scrupulous, and Adam retired quietly to his desk. These things may be counted little in the life of such a man; but not so in the sight of God. Soon after Mr. B, in the kindest manner, informed his " 'young friend," as he seemed always proud to call him, that it was very clear he was not fit for worldly business, and wished him to look out for some employment more congenial to his own mind; adding, that he might depend on his friendship in any line of life into which he should enter. A TERRIBLE ANSWER TO PRAYER. You have sometimes heard wicked men, and wicked boys even, when in a passion, curse themselves frightfully, and call down the malediction of God upon their heads. And it sometimes is the case that the Almighty takes these wicked persons at their word, and visits them with the wrath they imprecate. So 1 John M- was a Frenchman by birth, but emigrating to America, he settled in one of the most beautiful New-England villages upon the seashore. All his plans seemed to prosper, and he increased in wealth. But he was an exceedingly wicked man, and would swear the most frightful oaths in almost every sentence he uttered. During the last war he fitted out several privateers, and sent them out to cruise after British merchantmen. successful was he that he did not meet with a loss, but his vessels brought into port numerous and exceedingly valuable cargoes. His wharfs and storehouses were crowded with goods, and he was at a loss where to place his merchandise. Standing upon his pier, and looking down the harbour one day, he saw a brig belonging to him coming up, apparently deeply loaded. With the most awful mockery, he lifted up his hands and prayed, " Almighty God, withhold thy hand, for Johnny Mdesires no more!" And sure enough, this prayer was heard. From this mo ment the fortune of the overloaded and ungrateful swearer turned, and everything seemed to be against him. His property was rapidly scattered, and from a height of affluence he descended so low as to be obliged to beg in order to keep from starvation. "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.” A YOUNG rose in summer time And glorious the many stars Poetry. GENTLE WORDS, But gentle words and loving hearts, The sun may warm the grass to life, And eyes grow bright and watch the light But words that breathe of tenderness, It is not much the world can give, And gold and gems are not the things To satisfy the heart; But, oh! if those who cluster round TO MY INFANT. SWEET be thy sleep, Unbroken by thy mother's anguish wild: I would not wake thee from thy slumbers deep, My child! my child! No! the glad spirit, No touch of pain Casts its dark shadow on that marble brow; And tears of guilt or grief shall never stain That pure cheek now. In the calm grave, Nor care, nor pain, nor sin shall harm thee more; Like a freed bird, has soar'd in light The storm is past, and life's last troubled away; Juvenile Biography. SARAH COCKBURN. THE subject of this brief memoir was the eldest daughter of one of the Wigan colliers. For upwards of seven years she had attended the Sabbath-school in connection with St. Paul's Independent Chapel, (Rev. W. Roaf's,) in that town. It was there that she obtained all the little education with which she was privileged, and, by the instructions of her teacher and pastor, was led to give her heart to God. There is every reason to believe that, for several years before her death, she had been the subject of deep convictions; but being of a peculiarly retiring disposition, little was known, even by her teacher, as to her spiritual state, though her constant attendance at school, and her deep seriousness of deportment while there, rendered it evident to all that she highly appreciated the instruction she received. About three years since, she then being little more than thirteen years of age, she expressed a strong desire to be admitted into church fellowship. It was, however, deemed unadvisable to comply with her request, as at that time several young members had most grievously fallen, and it was deemed prudent for her to wait a little, until her judgment should become more matured, and her principles more settled. To this she consented; and during the three subsequent years her conduct in every respect was such as to make it manifest to all that her heart had been renewed by the power of Divine grace, and that she was deeply imbued with the spirit of Him whom she professed to love. It was not only at school that her conduct was thus exemplary; her piety entered have often prayed to him while in health, and I pray to him still. I hope and believe he has heard my prayers, and given me a heart to love and serve him; therefore I am not afraid to die, but still I should like to live longer, if it please God to spare me." Her disease rapidly increased; and about a week before her death the doctor said there was no hope, she could not possibly live much longer. This mournful intelligence was communicated to her by an intimate and beloved friend. At first she seemed much shocked, but soon regained her wonted composure; and a short time after she said "Now I am quite willing to depart. Now I wish to die. I am quite happy; and if my life were spared, I might become worldly-minded, and never again be so fit to die as at present." After this she said but little; and on Wednesday morning, June 13, her happy spirit, emancipated from its shattered tenement of clay, winged its flight to another and a better world. During the few weeks which have since elapsed, another, from the same class, has been summoned away. She also has left behind her the blessed assurance that death has been to her the gate to eternal glory! into the every-day concerns of life, and she became an obedient daughter, a faithful servant, an affectionate sister, and a steady friend. Her acquaintances were few, but judiciously selected from amongst the most serious girls in the Sabbath-school. She always loved to hear about Jesus, and the love he manifested to poor sinners; and though she said but little, yet her eye, now filled with tears, and anon sparkling with joy, showed how deeply she was interested in the conversation, while the few sentences she occasionally uttered were evidently the language of the heart, and showed a depth of feeling rarely to be met with in one so young. Her illness was but of short duration, but her state of mind was remarkably happy and peaceful; and though her sufferings were very great, yet no murmuring word escaped her lips, but she lay passive in His hands who, she well knew, was too wise to err, and too good to be unkind. The writer visited her very often during her sickness; and though at first there was no appearance of a fatal termination, he endeavoured to impress upon her mind the solemn duty of preparing for death while time and opportunity were granted. Her answers were few and brief, and it was not till several visits had been paid that she gained confidence enough to speak much as to the state of her heart; but then the evidences of true conversion to God which she gave were unequivocal and cheering. On one occasion, when alone with her, the writer asked if she was prepared to resign herself into God's hands, and if she was willing to leave this world, in case such should be the Divine will concerning her; she said she hoped she should be found ready and willing whenever the summons might come. Fearful lest she might be resting on a false found-ber, the instructions you receive will ation, or rather, anxious to have from her own lips a reason for the hope that was in her, he inquired on what she based her hopes for acceptance with God. Her reply was to the following effect: "I feel that I am a sinner in his sight, and I know I have nothing to recommend me to his mercy; but I have learned long since that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sin1ers: I have no hope but in him. I Two Reader! are you a Sunday-scholar? They were young, like you. months before their death they looked as healthy, probably more so, than you; ¦ but they are both dead: and you must die! How have you improved the precious privileges you have enjoyed? They valued them highly; do you? The first of them, in particular, was regular and punctual at school, and deeply attentive when there; are you? She delighted in the service and worship of God; do you? She loved her Saviour; do you love him? Remem either prove a savour of life unto life, or of death unto death. They will either be the means of melting or of hardening your heart. If you neglect to improve them, how terrible is your state! how awful will be your condemnation! Oh! fly to the Saviour. He will receive you. Seek him while he is to be found; call upon him while he is near, lest death should overtake you unawares, and judgment find you unprepared! You may die young; are you prepared to meet your God? "We may endure the rude ravage of time, And exult while the loud howling tempest shall roar; Or we too may fall in the midst of our prime, And the place that now knows us shall know us no more." Sunday-school Teacher! this should encourage you. How happy must the teacher of these girls feel to think she has trained two scholars for heaven! What a noble reward, even for the most earnest and self-denying labour! Two children trained for heaven! Two immortal souls rescued from perdition! Two of Christ's lambs gathered safely into his eternal fold! Is it not worth labouring for? Is it not worth praying for? Oh! then, be more diligent, be more devout, be more in earnest. "Work while it is called to-day;" and then, when the last great day shall come, may many of those whom you instruct from Sabbath to Sabbath be found at the right hand of the Judge, appearing as sparkling gems in that crown which it will be your honour and your happiness to cast at the Redeemer's feet! Wigan, Sept., 1849. W. M. H. MARY BLAGDON. Ir was on a visit to a humble cottage that I, by chance, as some would say, heard of Mary Blagdon. But I will not call it chance; for I think it must have been ordered by an All-wise providence, that I might learn of her, formerly my scholar, the two all-important lessons; viz., how to bear affliction, and how to die. It may be well to speak of her, first, as a scholar. When I became a Sunday-school teacher, Mary was among the number that were committed to my charge. She was remarkable for her good behaviour, her quiet and gentle deportment, and was ever attentive to what was said; but her attendance was very irregular, the reason of which I afterwards found out. She had no shoes of her own to wear; in fact, she always appeared very thinly clothed. From her irregular attendance, it cannot be supposed that she She could was forward with her book. hardly join her letters together. After she had been in the school about twelve months, her father left L-, to reside in a neighbouring village. I heard no more of Mary until the time before-mentioned, which was in the year 1845. I was then informed that she was in a galloping consumption. I went to see her; and, oh! what did I see? What shall I compare her to? A skeleton, a mere shadow! She was grown so tall in the four years, that I hardly knew her again. Her countenance was pale and emaciated, except when flushed with the consumptive bloom. Yes, The hectic flush was on her cheek, And sunk her once bright eye; The deep-drawn breath, the hollow cough, Were symptoms she would die. was, She instantly recognised me, and said, "You were my teacher. I am so glad to see you. Oh! that I had gone more constantly to school. It is true I often had no stockings or shoes to put on; but what did that signify? I could have gone without any." I inquired the state of her mind as regarded eternity. She replied, "I have no desire whatever to live in this world; it is such a wicked world. But I want to know that my sins are forgiven, and that I belong to Jesus." Here she burst into tears, but continued, "I am the chief of sinners; my sins seem greater than any one's. My chief desire for wishing to come to LI thought I should be more likely to see some friend who would instruct me in the way of salvation." But she was not so ignorant as she supposed herself to be; for she had been taught of the Holy Spirit that needful lesson-the depravity of the human heart. She had also a correct knowledge of the plan of salvation; though she had not obtained it of mortals, for no one visited her; nor of books, for she could not read. It was quite evident she was Heaven-taught. I questioned her as to the nature of faith. She replied, "Oh! I often think I have none. My sins my sins! they are as a mountain height! But I know that one drop of Jesus' precious blood would be enough to wash them all away." In strains like these the child reveal'd Many and frequent were the visits I afterwards made her; and though her words have imperceptibly glided from my memory, yet the expressive countenance, which spoke more than pen can She replied, in a tone of surprise and disappointment, "What! can't you stop to pray ?" At another time a person was speaking of her age: she said, with emphasis, "I'm young in years, but old in sin." Through indisposition I was prevented from seeing Mary for three weeks. When again restored, I bent describe, will never be forgotten. Her my steps toward the lowly cottage frame daily grew weaker, and her breathing more and more difficult. The medical gentleman who attended her said that her lungs were so far gone that she breathed as if through a sieve; yet amid such weakness and sufferings not a complaint or murmur escaped her lips. But gratitude flowed in abundance for the least kindness shown her. She seemed to drink deep into the spirit of the meek and lowly Jesus, whose young disciple, I hesitate not to say, she was. He was preparing her fast for celestial regions. Her faith in him grew strong. Oh! how she loved the name of Jesus! She always wept when she spoke of him. With what eager attention would she listen to his sacred word, when read to her! Oh! she loved to think of that world where Jesus dwelt in all his glory, and longed for an entrance there, that she might behold it. She often said she hoped to find her mother there, who died when Mary was quite young, and also her sister, who died some time after. She entreated her brother to leave off his wicked ways, and told him the consequences of sin. Her anxiety for her father was great; she wept over his sins, and prayed for his soul. "Ah!" said she, one day, as I sat by her bedside, "all I can do is to pray for them, and that I have done, and will do, as long as I remain here." She also reminded her aunt, at whose house she was staying the last two months of her life, of the necessity of being born again. "I cannot repay you for your kindness," said she; "but I can pray to God, and he will be sure to reward you. I hope you will follow me to heaven." She delighted much in hearing prayer ascend from her bed-side to the throne of grace. A person went one evening to see her, and it being late, promised to call the next day, and read to her. where she resided: 'Twas evening, and the setting sun As I descended the hill, I looked around |