children are systematically practised in the neglect of religious ordinances, and are led to embrace the most erroneous ideas of the obligation and duties of the Sabbath."

"Now, for educating the children of this vast and daily increasing population, which will soon amount to 40,000 souls, there is no provision whatsoever in the district; there is no school of any kind under the management of the ministers of the Church; the only school within a reasonable distance being one situated in an adjoining district."

The population of this parish was, in 1825, nearly 24,000, but has increased to above 37,000. Children are born, grow up, and die without being ever even baptized into a Christian church. This is the case now more than ever. Should population increase for the next fifteen or twenty years at the same rate as it does at present, and should the people be left to grow up destitute of the knowledge of their duty towards God and man, as thousands of them do at present, it will require an immense army to preserve any thing like peace in the country.'

"The schools were opened, through my exertions, and with the desire to counteract an establishment in the neighbourhood by a landowner, who has devoted six acres of land for industrial purposes, but whose avowed object is to disseminate social and chartist principles, hitherto with such limited effect that, though the temptation of dancing and French is added to the system of instruction, the composition return of last month will shew the favour of the poor is yet with us; but, unfortunately, our space is so limited that the elder boys and girls are compelled to write on their knees with forms for desks, whilst luxurious accommodation is provided elsewhere. However warmly I feel towards the welfare of the rising generation around me, yet I am only a tenant farmer, and unable to furnish the means to increase the accommodation, and there are no resident landowners friendly to education."

ANECDOTE OF A SUNDAY-SCHOLAR.

THERE was a poor little Sunday-school child on her death-bed some time since, in the neighbourhood of Liverpool; and when visited by her teacher, who showed her extreme kindness, and had brought a small quantity of wine, which had been prescribed by the physician to restore her fainting strength, she received the cup, deeply impressed with her friend's kindness, but more struck still with His kindness who had filled her soul with pity for the poor, and said→ "Oh, the kindness of my Lord and Saviour to me! When He was dying, they brought Him only vinegar and gall to drink, and now, when I am dying, He sends me wine!" What a beautiful expression was this! She was not so absorbed in her own sufferings, as to be forgetful of the sufferings of her Lord. She recollected that suffering was her due; but when she thought of Him who "knew no sin," but who, in His love and pity, had redeemed her, and for her had endured sufferings, which were aggravated by the malice of those that stood around Him, she bore the sorrows which pressed on her own soul with meekness and resignation, and said, "When He was

dying, they brought Him only vinegar and gall, but when I am dying, He sends me wine." We, too, may enjoy the same sweet consolation, my dear friends; for the Scripture declares the blessed truth, that "Thy love is better than wine."

THE LORD'S PRAYER.

I REMEMBER, on one occasion, travelling in this country with a companion who possessed some knowledge of medicine: we had arrived at a door, near which we were about to pitch our tents, when a crowd of Arabs surrounded us, cursing and swearing at the "rebellers against God." My friend, who spoke a little Arabic, turning round to an elderly person, whose garb bespoke him a priest, said, "Who taught you that we are disbelievers? Hear my daily prayer, and judge for yourselves." He then repeated the Lord's Prayer. All stood amazed and silent, till the priest exclaimed "May God curse me, if ever I curse again those who hold such belief! nay, more, that prayer shall be my prayer till my hour be come. I pray thee, O Nazarene, repeat the prayer, that it may be remembered, and written among us in letters of gold."-Mr. Hay's Western Barbary.

THE BEST LIFE.

There were sounds of merry voices that burst upon the ear,
And mingling tread of joyous feet, and music full and clear;
While jewelled robes waved dazzlingly upon the gazer's sight,
And happiness seemed settled in each bosom free and light.
Sure life, methought, enthroned amid the music, dance, and song,
Is the brightest and the goodliest that to earth's dreams belong.
But the voice within me whispered, that this was but the home
Where vanity and pride are set, where sin and folly roam.
The thrilling heart, the tabret, and the pipe are swelling high,
But the revellers regard not the voice of wisdom's cry:*

In painted boats of pleasure days, down Time's mysterious tide,
Unrecking of the storm that low'rs, or the gulph beyond, they glide.

The vision changed,-and gloomy cells, filled high with piles of gold, Rise suddenly; and round them watched men, care-worn grown,

and old;

And many a treasure heap they spread, and counted o'er and o'er, And many a withered scroll and book lay scattered on the floor. Sure life, methought, half spent in getting treasures gathered here, And half in spending gotten wealth, unmarred by want or fear,

* Is. v. 12.

Is the brightest and the goodliest that mortals ere can know-
Who have at best so slight and frail a tenure here below!
But the self-same voice did whisper, that the cankerworm and rust,
And thievish hands, and sin, and care, prey on the bright gold dust,
And leave us empty of the stores that heavenly cells enfold,
Where cankerworm nor rust corrupts the brilliance of the gold.

The vision changed,-and bleakly blew the blast across the wild,
Where nought but stately palm-trees rose, the dreary desert's child:
There, by a rude, unshapen cave, beneath a craggy steep,
Methought a barefoot hermit paced, his weary watch to keep;
His cheek was sunk, and wan his eye, whence penitential tears
Had flowed in streams, t' efface the guilt and sins of other years.
Yet quiet seemed the scenes wherein his meditation stole
From busy haunts, the hours unchecked, to commune with his soul;
And bent he seemed to win at last the mead of suffering toil-
The prize of victory above, the self-bought crown of spoil.
Sure life, methought, where rival claims can ne'er dispute the sway,
With Him whose presence e'er should be, one undivided day,
The brightest and the goodliest is that earth can e'er bestow,
The green oasis of the wild, where fruits of glory grow!
But the self-same voice did whisper, sin's infinitude of guilt
Can ne'er be washed by human deeds, nor blood of victim spilt:
Its curse grows blacker with the load of self-imposed pains,
And died in deeper crimson is the soul with these fresh stains.
O! couldst thou thus, the world shut out, climb of thyself to heaven,
No need would be of that vast price, in ransom that was given:
The saviour of thyself, thy pride would emulate the height
Of Babel's towers, alas! and be crushed by the self-same might.
The brightest and the goodliest life which God hath fixed for thee,
Is builded by celestial art and celestial jewellery!

A triple pillar, fair and strong, faith, hope, and new born love,
Cemented with humility, a lasting bulwark prove;

While on each stone a glorious name appears on every side,

Jesus, the Lord of heaven and earth, the sinner's King, that died.
Oh! happy he whose heart is thus the temple of His Lord,
And happy He whose temple doth to others light afford.
The savage, and the beast of prey, may roam the desert bare,
Forgetful of mankind, may live and die forgotten there;
But higher far the destined lot for which the Christian lives-
The love of Christ he hath received, that love to others gives-
That s these beams of radiant light to many a heart may stray,
And break the depth of Satan's night with light and gladsome day.

Then, if ye love the Saviour, go,-it was His own command,
And teach the greatness of that love unto His youthful band.
Go, Teachers, gladden with His name, and solace with His spell,
And bind upon their hearts the faith of Him ye love so well;
And, trusting in His strength and might, each heavenly weapon try,
And God at last will own His work, and give you victory.

N. J. M.

CORRESPONDENCE.

"WHEN OUGHT THE DOOR TO BE CLOSED?" REV. SIR,-Our minister generally opens the school at half-past nine o'clock. First we have singing, then prayer. Some are of opinion, with whom, is their pastor, that immediately he begins the hymn, the school or devotion has commenced-that no one ought to enter the room until it is ended; while others think, that during the singing is the most proper time for excluding the tardy ones, and securing that quiet to the more orderly, which, in my humble opinion, should at all times, as far as possible, be maintained when worshipping God is at least the professed object. And surely, when hymning our Redeemer's praise, our hearts should be as much in heaven as when we bend the knee in prayer; and if so, why treat one part of the worship with marked indifference? It does appear to some of us, that such a distinction in the opening services of a school, may give the youthful mind & very incorrect idea of the attention and solemnity which ever ought to accompany their minds, when in any way engaged in the worship of God, and thereby, as it were, entering more immediately into His presence. And descending much lower, may not such a sanction given to irregularity, painfully operate on the general habits of the children, and be an evil, diffusing its baneful effects through their lives? When I consider all the Teachers, and nearly all the children, are within a quarter of a mile from the school, that the hour for assembling is half-past nine, though the excuses offered be many, the reasons will be found few, for irregularity, at the Sunday-school at least, if self-examination be honestly pursued.

For the opportunity, Sir, of appealing to your judgment, I am grateful, and remain, Rev. Sir, very respectfully, yours,

A SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER IN DEVON.

May 9th, 1845.

SCHOOL ANNIVERSARIES.

REV. SIR,-As the period for Sunday-school treats is now drawing on, I venture to trouble you with a few remarks (if, indeed, you think them worth inserting,) on what appears to me to be a common mistake among your clerical brethren, as regards the "address to the children," as it is too often miscalled, with which, in my neighbourhood at least, it is the custom to conclude these festivities. I am in hopes to meet the eye of some of the clergy who will take part in them, and point out what seems to me a sad mistake.

In the parish where I live, the children meet in the school, and have a short opening service; they then march to the rectory, and sing a hymn, then on to the curate's, and then to the superintendent's, and do likewise; then to the rectory garden, or barn, as the weather may dictate, for their tea and bun, sing a grace, and immediately adjourn to church, where the address I wish to call attention to is delivered to them. Now, any one who either has children of his own, or has ever so slightly attended to their habits and capacities, one would think might know very well that all this walking, singing, and refreshment, taking, from first assembling, three hours at least, must pretty well fatigue and indispose the youthful hearers for any very lengthened address, even if it was of a nature for them to understand. But, in my parish, whether our beloved rector or his curate, or some worthy neighbouring minister be called in, invariably since our meetings commenced, the same mistake has been made: a sermon of usual sermon length, and usual sermon language, quite as far above the capacity of any but the first classes and monitors, as the regular Sunday discourses, is substituted for the short, pointed, very simple address to the little children, which, to my mind, appears the only suitable thing. Nay, worse than this; as it is perceived that many parents who seldom come on Sundays, follow their children into church on this occasion, the address here is generally so contrived as to be a preaching to them, to the exclusion of the children's profit. Now, really, these people, and the Teachers, and elder scholars, have 104 opportunities every year of hearing the word of God preached to them, and it does seem to me to be a decided mistake, on the only day in the year when the children are to be addressed, not to adapt the discourse to their capacity. It has taken me so many years to overcome a settled habit of inattention to the sermon acquired in childhood, from finding the sermons above my capacity, and, therefore, voting them nothing to me, and indulging myself in other thoughts, that I