come to hear the gospel. The old man caught at the idea, because he thought that if he had the trumpet, he could hear other things as well as the gospel! He adjusted the instrument till it exactly fitted his ear; and, blessed be God, the gospel through it exactly fitted his heart. He afterwards united with the church, and died in the faith of Christ. The young lady further added, that the two girls became members of the church; that one of the boys also was a member, and the other a preacher of the gospel. Thus, in addition to many other instances of usefulness, this young lady had given her, as a reward of her faithfulness and holy love, a whole family. Reader, what, as it relates to such matters, have you done?

THE FIRST BORN AND THE
SECOND.

The first born! Oh, other tiny feet may trip lightly at the hearth-stone; other rosy faces may greet us around the board, with tender love we soothe their childish pains, and share their childish sports; but "Benjamin is not," is written in the secret chamber of many a bereaved mother's heart, where never more the echo of a childish voice may ring out such liquid music as death hath hushed.

At the window of a large hotel in one of those seaport towns, the resort alike of the invalid and pleasure-seeker, sat Ruth; the fresh sea-breeze lifting her hair from temples thinner and paler than of yore, but stamped with a holier beauty. From the window might be seen the blue waves of the bay leaping to the bright sunlight, while many a vessel, outward and inward bound, spread its sails, like some joyous white winged sea-bird. But Ruth was not thinking of the sapphire sea, decked with its snowy sails; for in her lap lay a little half-worn shoe, with the impress of a tiny foot, upon which her tears were falling fast. A little half-worn shoe! And yet no

magician could conjure up such blissful visions; no artist could trace such vivid pictures; no harp of sweetest sounds could so fill the air with music.

Eight years since the little daisy withered! And yet to the mother's eye she still blossomed fair as Paradise. The soft, golden hair still waved over the blue-veined temples; the sweet, earnest eyes still beamed with their loving light; the little fragile hand was still outstretched for maternal guidance, and in the wood and by the stream they still lingered. Still the little hymn was chanted at dawn, the little prayer lisped at dew-fall; still that gentle breathing mingled with the happy mother's star-lit dreams.

A little bright-eyed creature crept to Ruth's side, and lifting a long, wavy, golden ringlet from a box on the table near her, laid it beside her own brown curls.

"Daisy's in heaven," said little Katy, musingly; "why do you cry, mamma? Don't you like to have God keep her for you?"

A tear was the only answer.

"I should like to die, and have you love my curls as you do Daisy's, mother."

Ruth started and looked at the child; the rosy flush had faded away from little Katy's cheek, a tear stole slowly from beneath her long lashes.

Taking her upon her lap, she severed one tress of her brown hair, and laid it beside little Daisy's golden ringlet.

A bright glad smile lit up little Katy's face, and she was just throwing her arms about her mother's neck, to express her thanks, when stopping suddenly, she drew from her dimpled foot one little shoe, and laid it in her mother's palm.

'Mid smiles and tears Ruth complied with the mute request, and the little sistershoes lay with the twin ringlets, lovingly side by side.

Blessed childhood; the pupil and yet the teacher, half infant, half sage, what a desert were earth without thee!

THE SPECIAL PROVIDENCE OF

GOD.

To the Editors of "The Church." Dear Sirs,

I felt much pleasure, as usual, in reading the contribution from Mr. Smith,

in the January number of "The Church," which led me to think upon the special providence of God. Within the last month three illustrations of it have come to my own knowledge; and thinking that at this season of the year, when many of the chill

drén of God, in common with others, are feeling the severity of the weather, and the pressure of the times, the communication of these facts might tend to strengthen faith and confidence in God, I feel induced to give them, and may God bless them, to the comforting and strengthening of some of his children.

About a fortnight ago I was travelling by omnibus to London, when a gentleman, a good minister of the gospel, whom I know, and have often listened to with delight, entered the 'bus. Our conversation, as it often had done, led to the topic of God's providence, and especially his particular and special providence. "Now, brother," said the good man, "I will give you an instance: some years ago, my family, fast rising around me, and my church and people by no means large and wealthy, I felt greatly the pressure of circumstances, and saw not in what way I could be relieved from those pecuniary embarrassments, which seemed now to press upon me. I prayed to God, took my cause to the throne of grace; I prayed and prayed for two years, before any special answer appeared to be sent to my petitions, but at length it came. A rap at the door,-the postman, a foreign letter,-a letter from Calcutta, who in Calcutta can have written to me? 1 opened the letter, and to my utter astonishment read, that a lady had died in Calcutta, leaving me legatee for five hundred and sixty pounds! And what was the more remarkable, I had never seen the lady, nor had she seen me, but had heard of me and my character, and had heard a good report of JL. To get this money cost me seven shillings. The letter I have now, and often look upon it with pleasure and gratitude, and exclaim, 'Jehovah Jireh,-the Lord will provide.' The fact has furnished me with many a text, and fired my heart in preaching many times, on the love, the goodness, and providence of God. Who, with that fact staring him in the face, could deny, said he, "the special providence of God?"

The second case occurred also to one whom I know, and very highly esteem for his work's sake, my pastor. At one period of his life (this I had a few days ago from himself) he was in business as a watchmaker. "I had," said he, "given a bill for ten pounds. The bill became due,-the day arrived, and I, alas, had not ten shillings with which to meet it! What

could I do, but go and tell my Lord? 1 prayed, and that most earnestly, that God would, in some way, help me. At length, twelve o'clock came, and I was no nearer meeting the bill. Again I went to my chamber, and prayed earnestly to God for help. While on my knees, my apprentice called me. I rose, went down into the shop, a carriage was at the door, a lady in the shop, she said, 'I wish to look at that small gold watch. What is the price?' Ten guineas. She examined it, laid it down, again took it up, and decided upon taking it. I took the money, the stranger (for such she was) took the watch, and in ten minutes I was, with the money in my pocket, and a light and grateful heart in my breast, in a boat, and on my way to London to meet the bill; thus did God in my extremity provide for me."

The other case is one in which a poor old widow, in an almshouse near me, experienced the manifest interposition of God in supplying her temporal necessity. This poor old widow has one son only now living. A little before Christmas he came home very ill, apparently consumptive; all she could do and get to minister to his comfort she did. One Saturday she was without anything suitable for his dinner for the next day, and was without money. "Never mind, mother," said the son, “you can make me a little pudding." However, she determined to get a little piece of meat for him if she could. "No, mother," said John, "don't go in debt for me." However, she went to a butcher's near, and asked for about a pound of mutton, "Now," she said, "1 must ask you if you will give me credit for it." She said, "he turned on his heel and refused me." She returned to her house sad, not on her own account, but on that of her son. "Well, John," she said, "I have not got the meat for you." "Never mind, mother," said he, "we shall have a dinner." "While I was gone to the butcher's," said she, "a parcel came from one of the places where my son had lived. On opening it, I found it contained two fine rabbits and two shillings. Thus God amply provided for me and my son food to eat, and money to procure other necessary things for his use."

And now, lest I should prove tedious, I will close, leaving these facts to speak for themselves, and show the power of God, as well as his goodness, in providing for his

Instead of enquiring whether the change will be an advantageous one, it will be more to the present purpose to enquire how the Sabbath afternoon is usually passed, by way of suggesting the possibility of making it a more profitable portion of time. There are many, even christian persons, who perhaps take a little rest, and then turn to the religious magazine of the day, and, having turned over its pages, and perhaps having looked over an often-read book, acarcely know how to employ the time till the hour arrives for the public re-assembling. There can be no objection to an extra amount of rest on the Sabbath; it was one of the reasons for which it was given to the many who are most truly "sons of toil" during the six days; but then this rest, having been enjoyed, should surely fit the mind for more active exertion, for a more thorough entrance into that opportunity of spiritual renovation, which It is the peculiar privilege of the Sabbath to afford. Every christian should endeavour to seize a portion of the Sabbath as a time of peculiar private retirement and devotion. All good men must desire every day to have some immediate "communion between God and their own soul; but the actual labour of many, the busy engagements of others, and the family circumstances of a large multitude, form a great barrier to prolonged, or very congenial opportunities of devotion, while there are few who, on the day of rest, may not have

an opportunity of securing a season of that spiritually "sweet repose,"

"Which none but he that feels it knows."

It is not from the public services alone that the christian can expect to grow in grace. There must be the preparation for the truth which is to come, the meditation on that which has been heard, in order that the heart may gain all which the service might afford. And what season so favourable for this as a solitary hour or two on the Sabbath afternoon?

It might be suggested, too, that with many, a part of this time might be well given to those visits of consolation which are eminently Sabbath work. Daily work, business, the manufactory, the profession, often take away the power of devoting the week-time to such employ; but because persons cannot go, then is there not the more need to give personal comfort and aid when they can? And what scenes of Sabbath-breaking and sin are to be found near the houses of most christians, which might be changed into scenes which would give joy to angels, were many of our christian friends, now passing the hours of the Sabbath afternoon in useless inaction, to resolve that they would give themselves no rest till they had found some plan for checking the abounding of sin around us.

It may be well to urge the many who at this time engage in Sunday-schools, not to be content with active labour and outward service, but to resolve, that while they willingly give up some hours which most profitably for themselves they might spend in retirement, they will by no means lose the valuable means of grace which retirement affords; but only the more earnestly seize some time in which to water their own souls, while endeavouring to water others, and to keep their own vineyard, while they labour to produce much fruit to the glory of the Great Master.

Trusting that you will give some suggestions which will call further attention to this matter, believe me to remain, with sincere good wishes, yours, very truly, A LOOKER-ON.

PRAYER ABOUT THE WAR. To the Editors of "The Church." Dear Sirs,

I have long been thinking there ought to be a day set apart for public prayer, that the ware may speedily termi

nate, and that we may have peace again. Now, as we look to you as the heads of our denomination, you are the most likely to set about it. Perhaps the services would be better attended if they were on the Lord's-day, but that is for your consideration. I have no doubt, if all the churches were to unite in sincere prayer to God, they would do more good than all the parliaments in the world, and the blessing of God would be sure to follow. I hope the Baptists will set the example. I remain yours sincerely,

J. M.

[We must say, in reference to the above, that we think the present time particularly demands the earnest intercessions of the people of God. Why should we wait for the appointment of a day, by an authority

which in religious matters we disown, to present a special appeal to God for his interference in a crisis which is causing so much and such general anxiety? Without venturing to dictate, or to interfere at all with what may be done by those to whom we look as the heads of the denomination, in the metropolis, we venture to suggest the second Lord's-day in this month, as a day on which such special prayer may be conveniently offered in our congregations. Many, no doubt, will approve the suggestion, and act upon it; so that those who do, will have the assurance that many beside themselves are appealing to God for his gracious interference, in this solemn crisis in the affairs of this country and the world.]

I have seldom seen a little boy who had so many noble qualities as Harry Daytonone who was capable of being a better boy, or growing up to be a better man.

I have seldom known a little boy who had a better mother-one who so prayerfully and perseveringly studied to train him in the way he should go. And very dearly did he love this mother, and really mean to obey her and do what was right; and usually, if in a moment of passion he did wrong, he was very sorry, and wept bitterly.

But, oh, the wicked things little boys learn, playing in the street; what naughty words they hear, and what naughty habits they get! Yet it seems impossible to prevent it, as they must go out of doors, and must run and drive their hoops and roll their balls, or else they will not be strong and healthy.

So Harry's mother felt obliged to let him go into the street; and one afternoon he had been playing very long, and I presume was very tired, at least he was very much excited; and from the parlour there were heard children's voices talking very loud and angrily, and some of them were calling each other names, and striking, and their faces were red with passion.

Harry was among them; and his aunt

Mary seeing him from the window, thought it best to call him in; besides, it was dinnertime, and his hands and face must be washed; so she went to the door and kindly requested him to come to her. But he refused, and, though it seems impossible he could have been so impudent, he did call her such names as I should not like to put upon my paper. She went to him and took hold of his hand, and he screamed, and struck, and kicked her, declaring he would not mind her, he would do what he pleased.

But he did not dare to disobey his father, and when he heard his voice, he subdued his anger and came in. He had been alone but a few moments before he began to cry, for he knew his mother would know how wicked he had been, and he feared, too, that he should be punished. "Oh, dear," said he, "don't tell mother; I will tell her ,all myself," and he sobbed as if his little heart would break, Soon his mother came to him, and patiently listened to his story, but she had heard it first from his aunt Mary, and knew he did not tell the truth. "Did you not strike little Ellen in the street, and did you not call aunt Mary names?"

"No," said he, but he did not look up frankly into her face, like an honest boythe blush of guilt was on his cheek. But when he struck and talked so wickedly, I do not think he knew what he was doing, because he was in such a passion, and now

Yet His

perhaps he did not remember it all. he knew he did not tell it as it was. mother thought it best to say no more to him till he was cool and rested, and he went to dinner.

But he did not appear like a little boy who was sorry for what he had done. He was evidently determined to brave it out. He talked very loud and boldly, very much as I have seen grown-up men, when they had done wrong and would not own it, and were determined to go on sinning.

Harry was only seven years old, but he knew a great deal more than many boys at that age, because he had had a great deal of pains taken with him, and God had given him more mind and a stronger character than are given to some little boys, and this should have made him better; but I think he sometimes felt that he had better care and was better educated than some other little boys, and therefore he tried to rule them, which they did not like, and so they had many a quarrel which otherwise would not have happened.

She

When he went to bed at night, his mother again talked kindly and gently with him, but still he would not tell the truth. told him that she should punish him for being so naughty in the afternoon; but she should wait till the next day, which was the Sabbath, and should punish him more severely if he told a lie. Still he persisted in telling what was not true; but that little voice that spoke in his soul continually kept calling to him, "Harry! Harry!" and made him so unhappy he could not sleep. Yet he would not heed it, and as I passed by the door of his room, I heard him calling his mother wicked names, and saying he did not love her, and he meant to run away and not live with her.

There he was in his nice little bed, where she had tucked him in, and arranged every thing for his comfort, in a raging passion, doing all he could to make her wretched; and so he talked and cried till he fell asleep in this angry spirit.

If any body had told me Harry Dayton could be so wilful and obstinate, I should not have believed it; for I had seen him act so nobly, and so quickly confess if he did wrong, that I did not suppose he would ever go on from wrong to wrong, and then deny it to save himself any punishment his mother might inflict. Oh, I wish he could have seen that gentle mother as I did that night, when I softly opened the door, not

knowing she was there, and she was kneeling by his side, with her head bowed upon his pillow, which was wet with her tears, praying that God would forgive him, and teach her how to lead him in the way of piety and truth. It was a beautiful sight, and I thought, Surely He who hears the prayers of the humble will give her strength and wisdom: her son will yet grow up to love and honour her.

The next day was the Sabbath, and very early in the morning, Harry was above in the room with his little sister, when she did some serious mischief, and when questioned about it, she said Harry told her to do it.

"No,"
," said Harry, "I did not."

Here was another wrong story, and which of her children had told it the mother did not know. Each persisted in saying that the other was guilty, but on minute enquiry it proved to be Harry again. This is always the way with children, and grown people too; when they will not repent, and freely confess that they have done wrong, they seem to feel a sort of determination to show that they do not care, or to make others believe that they do not, so they will repeat what they have done, or indulge in some new act, and thus the heart grows harder, and the little voice speaks not so loudly. They feel very miserable, and really wish they had not sinned; but pride, a very foolish, weak, and wicked pride, prevents their saying so, and perhaps they live on a whole life in misery and sin, when one half hour of real contrition and cordial confession would relieve their bosoms of a great rden, and make themselves and all around them happy.

Oh, how sadly did this mother feel when she saw how little Harry had become hardened. What should she do? how should she punish him so as to do him good?

She told him she would not punish him so severely if he told the truth, but still he would not tell her. She led him to a lonely room where there was nothing to interest him, and after talking with him a long while, and trying to impress his heart with the nature of sin and disobedience, telling him that God had made her his mother that she might watch over him, and that He would not forgive her if she did not punish him, she whipped him, and left him to think alone.

He soon stopped crying, and drummed