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which are again subdivided under suitable | sages. The proposition's unfolded are: 1. heads: and each chapter is supplemented That a life of active duty is alone acceptby Exercises, in the form of Questions for able to our Lord. 2. That benevolent efExamination. The style appears to be fort for the soul is the most acceptable form simple, and more attractive than in some of social duty. 3. That special concern similar volumes, and the facts are carefully for the young is demanded at once by the arranged and accurately stated. We con interests of society, and the commands of sider the work very well suited “for the Christ. use of Schools and Families;" and a care
CHRISTIANITY AS APPLIED TO THE MIND OP ful perusal of it would be of great advan
A CAILD IN TAB SUNDAY SCHOOL, A tage in removing that ignorance of Sacred SERMON, BY THE Rev. ALBERT BARNES. History which the engrossing nature of Pp. 44. London: Benjamin L. Green. other studies is making but too common
Those who have used Mr. Barnes's Comamong young people now-a-days.
mentaries will be glad to read a Discourse “FBED MY LAMBS;” A Discourse DE
by him. The one before us manifests much LIVERED AT THE ANNIVERSARY OP Tar of that strong practical sense which he so STOCKPORT SUNDAY SCHOOL. BY THE generally displays in his Expositions. Even Rev. 0. T. DOBBIN, LL.D. Pp. 40. those who do not quite hold the popular London : Simpkin, Marshall, & Co.
view of Mr. Barnes's excellence as a critic, A Sermon full of beautiful, earnest 1 will, we are sure, be pleased and profited thoughts, and crowded with eloquent pas. ! by him as a preacher.
A Page for the Young.
THE TRANSPARENT SLATE.
A STORY OF TEMPTATION. Happy, gentle, lovely, and beloved, was little Mary Edwards. Ever glad to give others pleasure, ever willing to sacrifice her own wishes and comfort to do another a kindness, modest and obedient, it is not strange that her heart was light and joyous, and that she was beloved by all. Perhaps, my little readers, you think she must have had a great many things to make her happy, and very few things to trouble and annoy her, and therefore was she so sweet-tempered and amiable. No-pot 80: on the contrary, she had fewer external sources of enjoyment than children usually have. Her father could not afford to buy her many toys and story-books, nor did he often take her to places of amusement. She 'very I rarely had any money of her own to spend, and never more than a penny or two at a time.
Those gratifications, however, which were occasionally afforded her, I believe she enjoyed with far greater zest than if they had been frequent. A single visit to the menagerie was a thing for interest and wonder during many weeks afterward. Every plaything in her baby-house was of peculiar worth, because she had so few, and
most precious was the care she took of every article. Wheri, at one time, a lady sent her a pretty little chair for her doll, made and painted just like a real, large chair, Mary truly was happier than any princess with a hundred fine toys. As to her books, they, too, were few in number, yet Mary read them again and again, always with fresh interest and pleasure. A little volume of Æsop's Fables, in verse, and the “ Child's Book on the Soul,” were treasures indeed, in her estimation; and her enjoyment of these little books gave her a taste for reading, which proved a source of great pleasure and improvement as she grew older. With such a disposition as this, finding recreation and enjoyment with very small means and in little things, with a heart full of love and kindness towards every one, Mary was grateful for her blessings and contented with her lot. Not by any means, as you will presently see, was she exempt from the trials and temptations of daily life. These come to all; to children as well as to older people; to rich and poor ; to high and to low; though they are of many kinds, and presented under every variety of circumstances. Lit. tle Mary had her portion. The same temptations from a sinful heart and from an evil world beset her, that now beset you, my little friends. She would sometimes give the
hasty, thoughtless answer, or the sullen, is here?" "I do not know, my daughter," look ; and at other times she wanted very said he, “I am going to count it after dinmuch to do just as she pleased, instead of ner, and then I will tell you." "Is it yours, doing as her mother or teacher pleased. It father ?” she asked eagerly. "No; it is was not always easy for her, more than for not mine, it belongs to the Society; but I others, to tell the exact truth, even though am to take care of it, and see that it is used it should prove her in fault. She occasion for good and benevolent purposes." Mary ally felt mortified that her father was not as wanted her father to tell her more about it, rich as some other girls' fathers were, and but he began to talk with a gentleman, and troubled because she was deprived of some in a few minutes the dinner-bell rang, and advantages and pleasures that they enjoyed. they all went into the dining-room, except Yet the better feelings would quickly return Mary, who was to wait, there not being to her heart, and the peaceful expression of room for her at the table. contentment to her face; while, with sincere For some time she remained standing hy repentings for her faults, she was ever
the little basket of money, taking up the striving as hard as any little girl I know, to bright pieces, one after the other, reading overcome them all, and to do right continu. the dates of the different coins, and examally. The still low voice within, which
ining the faces with the deepest interest. chides us when we do wrong, and which She had never in her life before seen so approves when we do right,—that little
much money together, and it seemed to her guardian spirit that is always faithful to us,
that here was enough to buy everything so long as we heed its teachings-you know one could desire. She wished her father well what I mean, dear children; the in might have as much-she was sure he would junctions of this friendly voice, little Mary
give her some; and next she wished she understood, and usually obeyed. Happy, had as much. What could she not do with indeed, for us all, to heed this friend, to
such a vast sum ? “But it isn't mine, and regard its counsel, to cherish it with watch
it isn't father's-not a penny of it,” said ful care for our guidance and comfort
she; and turning away, somewhat reluctthrough life. Let me tell you how, on one antly, she went out into the garden. Her occasion, when Mary was tempted to com
thoughts, however, kept turning back to mit a great sin, she was saved from the deed
the money, the basket full of money that by listening to the urgent voice of her con
could work so great things, and she could science, warning her of her guilt and dao not resist the feeling that it would make ger.
her far happier to have plenty of money. Mr. Edwards was treasurer of a certain
Just then, Ellen Morris, a little school. religious Society, which held its meetings
mate who occupied the seat next to hers, every year in different towns of the county.
passed the garden, and seeing Mary, she A treasurer is a person who receives and
exclaimed, “Oh, Mary, I want to shew you takes care of the money that people pay to
something. See what a beautiful slate a Society. At one time, this Society held
father has bought me, with all these pic. its meetings in the place where Mr. E. lived,
tures to draw; and this set of pericils. Are and some of the gentlemen attending it
they not nice?” “Yes, indeed,” said Mary. were invited to his house, Mary, returning in a tone as animated as Ellen's; “it is a from school one day, found company in the
transparent slate, isn't it? Oh, what pretty, parlour, who were to remain to dinner.
pretty pictures, and so easy to draw, too When her father came in, she observed a
Don't you like to draw, Ellen ? I do, curious little bundle in his hand, of which
almost as well as to read;" and the little he seemed to take very special care ;-with
girls sat down togetherupon a green bank, good reason, she thought, when she found
and examined slate, pictures, and pencils, it to contain money; the money which, as
in every part, with delightful satisfaction. treasurer, he had received that morning
“I wish I had a transparent slate," said from different members of the Society.
Mary. Mary watched him, with childish interest,
“Oh, I'll lend you mine sometimes,” said as he untied the parcel, and emptied the the generous little Ellen, “I am sure you money into a little basket. “Oh, father," would be as careful of it as I should be." she exclaimed '"a basket full of money! " Thank you,” returned Mary, “but I How many, how many pounds there must would so much rather have one of my own, be! Please tell me, father, how much there to use all the time."
“Ask your father to buy you one, I'm sure he will;" said Ellen, gathering up her treasures carefully. " I must hürry home, now, to dinner. Come to school early this afternoon, Mary, and we'll draw together a little while."
Mary closed the gate after her friend, and then, with a light skip and jump, hastened into the house. The company had not quite finished dinner, and were busily engaged in conversation. So Mary stayed in the parlour, and going up to the table again, began to amuse herself with the money.
"Ah," thought she, “this money would buy slates enough for all the little girls I know," and as she handled over the bright sovereigns and half-sovereigns, the preity shillingsand six pences, she wished more than before, that a part, a small part of it, was her own-just enough to buy a transparent slate, like Ellen's, and she would ask no more. * This new, beautiful shilling," thought she, taking up one of the pieces and clasping it tightly in her hand, “oh, if this were only mine, I have no doubt it would buy me a slate.”
All the other pieces she put back again in the basket, but this she kept out, to look at, and she turned it over and over in her hand, until the desire to possess it became overpowering.
" Father will not miss it just this one little shilling," thought she. “He doesn't know how much there is here, for he told me he hadn't counted it. I am sure there doesn't seem any less in the basket if I take out just this one piece. Nobody will know it; how can they ? and I shall have a beautiful transparent slate of my own. Yes. I do think I may as well take it ;” and with a tighter grasp she held the money in her little hand. “But then,” thought she, “it isn't mine, and I ought not to keep it. It is stealing, to take what belongs to others. Oh, I cannot steal;” and she opened her hand to take one more look at the tempting treasure that she held, intending to return it directly to the basket. Yet still she gazed-unsatisfied, uncertain, hesitating
Ah, Mary, Mary, we tremble for her! She is endangering her dearest interests to trille thus; the temptation is so strong! Oh, will she yield ? Where is now the voice whose warning she has ever before been ready to hear? Is it still and silent within her ?
No; it does speak. It is that same faithful voice which now tells her that to
take that money would be stealing; and while she heeded" it, she felt strong to withstand, and said, “I cannot steal.” But the sight of the money again, and the desire to possess the slate, overpowered the voice of conscience, and once more she seized that shining coin with a quick, resolute motion, pushed the basket farther on the table, and said, “ Why need I be so afraid? Surely no one can ever know it ?"
And does she indeed commit this deed? Is little Mary Edwards a thief? Oh, it cannot, must not be.
Mary had put the money into her pocket, and thought she would buy the slate on her way to school. If she had been practised in arts of deception, she would have questioned how she should manage to keep her slate out of sight all the time, that no one of the family might know she had it; but Mary had never committed an act of this kind before, and had never wished to conceal anything, so she did not, now, consider the consequences of her dishonesty.
For several minutes she sat by the window, thinking intently of the pleasure of possessing the beautiful slate, upon which her heart was set; yet, with all the pleasure, there was mingled a feeling of such uneasiness, such a consciousness of guilt, and such a fear of discovery, that she trembled violently. Again the hidden monitor arose within her, and now its tones were louder, and its words more impressive than before. “Yes, I have taken this piece of money for my own,” thought she, striving, though in vain, to justify herself ; “but in doing this, what have I become ? A thief? Yes, a thief. I, a Sabbath-school scholar, studying the Holy Bible, wherein God says, • Thou shalt not steal ;' I, who have been, taught the sin of taking what belongs to others, ever since I can remember. What would my father say if he knew what I had done? What would my dear, kind mother say, if she could see all that is in my heart? Oh, how ashamed I should be if they ever should find it out & Well, even if they should not, God would know it all the time. He sees me always-yes, even wow, this very moment. Oh, I cannot take iti must not steal; 'how very wicked' i 'hare been p . 11;
1 Mary took the money quickly from her pocket, put it into the basket, and left the room. A feeling of relief came over her, which it would be impossible to describe." She seemed like one who had been tightly
held by some powerful hand, and forbidden | seemed to be a very small matter. Truly to move, suddenly set free; free to breathe, there is no happiness like that, which a to will, to act for herself; while the thought good conscience affords. of the sin she had permitted in her heart, A few days after this was the Sabbath. struck her with a horror from which she Mary prepared her lesson with careful dili. shrunk. The single half-hour since Ellen gence, and attended all the services of the left her seemed like a long period of time; day with unusual interest. Her mother So various, so deep, so conflicting, had been observed it, and she also noticed how happy, the workings in her breast.
and cheerful, and contented she appeared ; When summoned to dinner, Mrs. Ed how obedient and kind. Really it made wards observed something unusual in Mary's her love her little girl very much to see so appearance, and asked tenderly, “ What ails sweet a spirit actuating her. After tea they you, my daughter ?" "Me, mother?” said were in the garden together, enjoying the she, looking up suddenly, then blushing and beauty of the scene at that still hour. dropping her eyes again, for it seemed to Mary drew closer to her mother's side and her that every one, and especially her mo attempted, two or three times, to speak. ther, could read her inmost soul; "nothing Finally, with a greater effort she said, ails. me, only I cannot eat my dinner; “Mother, may I tell you something? It please excuse me, dear mother;" and she is very, very bad. You will be grieved burst into tears, before she could escape oh! so grieved, for I am sure you would from the room. Mrs. Edwards wondered never have thought it; but I feel that I much what had so affected her cheerful little ought to tell you." girl, but forbore to press her with questions “Certainly, my darling, tell me whatjust then.
ever you wish, without the slightest fear;" “Have you asked your father for a slate, and Mary related every particular of the Mary?” was Ellen's first question to her events of that day when she had been so friend, in the afternoon.
fearfully tempted to steal. Mrs. Edwards “No, Ellen, it is no matter about it. I listened with a hearty interest, and the do not care so much about it as I did at tears fell on little Mary's hand-tears of first, and I will watch you while you draw, sympathy, of gratitude, and love. and I can do some of the pictures on my “Thank God, my child,” said she, fercommon slate, which will do very well.” vently, “that you were saved from doing
* Oh, but I wanted so much that we that deed of sin. Oh, may the suffering should both have them alike," said Ellen. you have experienced, and the lesson you
“I should be very happy, it is true, to have learned, with his blessing added, have a transparent slate, but I can also be strengthen you to resist future temptation. happy without it, Ellen," said she, in a low Listen carefully to your conscience, Mary; voice; and she felt at that moment such a do nothing which it forbids, obey what it * calm, quiet assurance that she had done requires, and with God's willing grace to right and had overcome temptation, that help you, you shall not be overcome of the sacrifice of every pleasure in the world evil.”
yields us a melancholy pleasure to review and having mingled so much with the ex- ima mo their history, and to trace those excellen cellent of the earth as he did previously, mer state cies by which their character was adorned, our friend had now acquired a tolerable Onlist . and in so doing may we not hope to profit, acquaintance with the theory of the plan of to may we not be led to imbibe their spirit, to mercy, but as yet the gospel had produced as I have
follow them as far as they followed Christ ? no saving impression upon his heart. But Al mio · The subject of this brief narrative pos
in 1827 the Lord in his mercy passed by bot sessed, in no ordinary degree, those chris
him. The Rey. and highly respected Johnny be tian qualities, the remembrance of which
Yeadon, then pastor of the Baptist church, e hi will be long cherished in the memory of
Horsforth, preached a sermon from that those who knew him. He was born at
striking passage in Hebrews iv. 9: " There terre Horsforth, April 4th, 1801. From his remaineth therefore a rest to the people of childhood he was industrious, economical,
God;" and the word was clothed with tests · and steady. Being blessed with an early
almighty energy and reached his heart; it Wand. religious education, he was preserved from
led him as a lost and helpless sinner to seek tetore the follies to which all young people are
salvation through the Lord Jesus, in laterp prone. At the age of twelve years, he was
whom he was accepted, and through whom his he called to sustain a heavy loss by the death a meetness was wrought in him by the ut of his father, upon whose earnings he and
Holy Spirit for that rest, to inherit which all the other branches of the family had
he henceforth felt so desirous. After this depended for support. Necessity obliged
change became manifest, he was urged, him, young as he was, to earn his bread by
again and again, to give himself publicly to the sweat of his brow. The business in
Christ. His notions of what a professor of which he was employed was that of a stone
religion ought to be were of such a cast as mason, an arduous calling indeed, and one
to keep him back for some time from yield. Eers which is surrounded with many dangers.
ing himself fully to the Saviour's claims. sorat · But the Lord was the guide of his youth.
But in March, 1834, a revival broke out in No doubt one cause of the strength of his several of the churches in the neighbour. moral bias may be traced to his great taste
hood, and many under its influence decided for reading. After the toils of the day, his
for Christ, and amongst them was our the evenings were chiefly spent on the social
friend, who with fourteen others was baphearth with his widowed mother, reading
tized by Mr. Yeadon in the river Aire. to her the scriptures, which, under God,
After his baptism, the grace of God was eventually made him “wise unto salvation.”
exemplary in his conduct. Combining so From the time of his earliest recollection,
many worthy properties as he did, he soon he was led by his father to the house of
gained the respect and confidence of his God. In connection with the Baptist
brethren in the church. In 1838, he was chapel, Horsforth, where his father attended,
chosen to the office of deacon, which office a Sabbath school was formed in the year
he filled up to his death, with credit to RON . 1914. Our friend Joseph was one of the
himself and great satisfaction to the church. first scholars there. In the sixteenth year
As a friend he was faithful and generous; of his age he left the Sabbath school; but
as a neighbour he was peaceable and kind; not to wander in the fields, and lanes, and
in short, he won the esteem of all who
knew him. streets, and break God's holy Sabbath, but to become a pew-holder in the chapel; and
We had rejoiced had it been the will of from that period to his death, he was one
Providence to have spared his valuable life of the most regular and punctual in atten
a little longer, but God had decreed his ste dance there. In addition to his taste for speedy removal to the world of spirits. reading, we may mention the art of music,
About six months ago, he was threatened for which he had a great fondness; his ex
with consumption, which rioted upon his • treme modesty, however, prevented him
system till he sunk beneath it. His illness the from giving publicity to this talent.
was tedious and painful, but be bore it all as In 1826 he was united in marriage to
with patience, and was often heard to say, it Maria Smith of Horsforth, daughter of
“thy will be done.” Even when his debiete parents long identified with the Baptist
lity has been almost unbearable, he would church at Rawden. This union was one
retire into his closet and wrestle in prayer of unbroken harmony from its beginning
for Zion's welfare. A month previous to - to its end. Marrying into a pious family, 1. his death his endeared wife asked whether