LITTLE JOSEPH, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 113. LITTLE JOSEPH. 
 
 114. CATHARINE PRYOR. 
 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE 
 HELEN; OR THE DUTY AND 
 
 EARLY PIETY. 
 THE YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 118. LITTLE HINDOO G I Ri- 
 ll 9. JOHNNY LATHAM 
 L20. THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 115 
 UG 
 
 117. 
 
 JOY OF 
 
GOD'S L YE 
 
 TO 
 
 WICKED LITTLE JOSEPH. 
 
 The little boy of whom I wish to tell 
 you, was commonly known by the name of 
 [< little wicked Joe Jago." The word " lit- 
 tle " was probably used to distinguish him 
 
a 
 
 4 GOD'S LOVE 
 
 from his father and grandfather, both of 
 whom were called Joseph Jago. He was 
 indeed a very wicked boy. He was so art, 
 m in his wickedness, that his parents 
 hardly knew what to do with him. He 
 used to curse and swear, get angry call 
 his playmates ill names, and quar el and 
 TJt with them. Though a lit le boy, h 
 wa a great sinner. But God « great 
 Ley manifested his love towards him, 
 
 him his sinfulness, by nature and by pi no- 
 tice and that he must be pardoned through 
 
 GV On the 21st of August, 1846, poor Jo- 
 seph began to be unwell, and grew worse 
 
 tember 21st, the very day he was 14 yea s 
 of a „ e . He was not at once confined to his 
 bed! but all knew that he was not well, for 
 he walked about the streets so quiet y, and 
 seemed so different from the noisy Joe we 
 
TO LITTLE JOSEPH. 
 
 5 
 
 had been accustomed to see. His parents 
 and grandparents were very kind, and did 
 all they could for him, but after two weeks 
 he was unable to go out any more. His 
 
 parents then called Dr. L to attend . 
 
 him, who immediately said he was very 
 sick, and led them all to fear that he would 
 never get well. 
 
 While Joseph was able to walk about, 
 I had seen him several times, and asked 
 im how he did; to which he generally 
 eplied cheerfully, " I think I am a little 
 
 etter, thank you, Mrs. H ." But the 
 
 ast time I saw him out, he said in answer 
 o my inquiry, " I am very weak." Two 
 ays passed, and on inquiring for him, I 
 as told he was confined to his bed. 
 I had long felt much interest in Joe, 
 ickcd though he was ; for, some years 
 before, while teaching a day-school, he be- 
 ame one of my scholars. I had often 
 talked to him, as well as the rest in the 
 chool, about the blessed Jesus as the Sav- 
 
GOD'S LOVE 
 
 iour of poor sinners, and told them that they 
 Te lolt and ruined by nature, and ha 
 ftey must be washed in the precious blood 
 of feu s Christ, or they oonld not go to 
 
 ^On learning that Joseph was so ill and 
 whiletMnldngofwhatlhadsa.dtohnn 
 
 Tbecame very desirous to see him, and to 
 
TO LITTLE JOSEPH. V 
 
 know if any thing I had then tried to 
 teach him, was brought to his mind ; and 
 also to speak more plainly and pointedly 
 to him about his own sins, and his need 
 of salvation by faith in Christ. 
 
 I went to his home, and found him very 
 sick, and that no one had spoken to him 
 about his soul. I sat down by his side, 
 and asked, "How are you to-day, Joseph?" 
 
 « Very bad, Mrs. H ," be replied. " I 
 
 see you are, my dear boy ; and if the Lord 
 should see fit to take you away, do you 
 think you are prepared to die?" "I do 
 not Know," he answered. "Do you not 
 know that you are a sinner, Joseph?" 
 "Yes I do." "And you know that 'the 
 wages of sin is death.' " " I know I shall 
 die} he said. " But, my dear, I wish you 
 to understand about the second death, which 
 means a great deal more than the death of 
 the body. The Bible teaches us that all 
 the wicked when they die, must go to hell." 
 "No," he answered; "do you think so?" 
 
GOD'S LOVE 
 
 1 reclied "You must remember it is against 
 Go 7 you have sinned." He answered 
 outkly, «Oh, I did aot know I tad sinned 
 TgattGod. I know I have sworn imn 
 aieda of times, and have done many bad 
 thin s but I did not know I had anted 
 SSkWL" "But so it is, Joseph; ev- 
 er^ oath you have uttered, every angry 
 :L,and y aU your sins, have been agan* 
 God." " Oh, then, what shall I do ne 
 
 1 opened the Bible and read to him the 
 story of the jailer, and his earnest m- 
 mSt, "What must I do to be saved? 
 S L answer of Paul and Si as -Behev 
 
 on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou ska 
 Z saved " I also read other portions of 
 L word of God which I thought conk, 
 iaform his mind concerning what Chi st 
 had done for every poor guilty sinner. 
 „ these was the 19th chapter of 
 John where Christ's sufferings are spoken 
 of - and I directed his attention especially 
 
TO LITTLE JOSEPH. 9 
 
 to the 30th verse, the words of Jesus from 
 his own most truthful lips, "It is finished ; 
 "and he bowed his head and gave up the 
 ehost." As I was guiding his thoughts to 
 Christ, he said, "I can't lay hold;'' mean- 
 ing 1 do n't understand. I reminded him 
 of a fruit-tree in his grandmother's gar- 
 den which bore good fruit, because of its 
 being grafted; and told him. that when a 
 poor sinner believed in Jesus as his bav- 
 iour, he was then grafted into Christ, and 
 partook of Christ's nature, and would grow 
 up into Christ as the graft into the tree. 
 He then said, " I seem to see, now, how it is : 
 if I believe, the blood of Jesus Christ will 
 save me; it is like the sap of the tree, 
 which makes the graft grow." "Yes, 
 said I, "the blood of Jesus Christ alone 
 can save you. It will wash away all your 
 sin, if you trust in him as your Saviour. 
 After a short time, he said, "I do believe 
 [ I hope the Lord will save me." I told 
 him he must look to God fcr help ; and 
 
10 
 
 GOD'S LOVE 
 
 after exhorting him to think much about 
 what we had said, I left him. 
 
 In the evening I went in again. His 
 mother was weeping. She told me she 
 had found him praying many times since 
 I left him in the morning. On going to 
 his bedside, I asked him, "Joseph, how 
 are you now?" "Very weak," he said; 
 "I wish I could see my brother John." 
 "Why do you wish to see him?" 1 asked. 
 " 0, to tell him I am not afraid to die. 
 But I want to know what fruit I must bear 
 to Christ." I told him if he loved his 
 brother, and wished to see him to tell him 
 of Jesus' love to a poor sinner, that was 
 fruit ; and if he loved his soul and wished 
 to tell him so, and tried to lead him to be 
 happy by believing in Christ, that was 
 fruit also. 
 
 " Oh," he replied, " I love my father and 
 mother and sisters, and I wish they were 
 all happy, and my grandfather and grand- 
 mother, too." While he was saying this, 
 
TO LITTLE JOSEPH. 
 
 11 
 
 his uncle came in to see him, and said, 
 "My dear boy, you are very ill." "Yes, 
 uncle." In love to his soul, his uncle said, 
 "You must pray to Jesus." He replied, 
 "Uncle, I have believed." 
 His uncle afterwards told me that he 
 as much surprised in talking with him 
 after I left, to find that Joseph, though so 
 young, was able to answer his questions 
 so well. 
 
 The next day I called to see him, and 
 asked as usual, "How are you, Joseph?" 
 He replied, "I am much worse; I shall 
 never get any better ; the doctor's medi- 
 cine does me no good." I said, " My dear, 
 we do not know what God is about to do. 
 He is able to raise you up, as well as to 
 bring you down." " I know he is able," 
 he answered quickly, " but I do not wish 
 to live." " Why do you not wish to live ?" 
 I asked. "0, I am afraid I shall get out 
 with wicked boys and get into sin again ; 
 for I have been thinking of them to-day, 
 
12 
 
 GOD'S LOVE 
 
 and I do not know of one good boy among 
 all I used to go with/' I said, "True 
 you may not know of one, yet if the Lord 
 is pleased to spare you longer, he can keep 
 you from evil, for he says, 'My grace is 
 sufficient for you.' " To this he replied, 
 "I hope God will keep me, that I may 
 never sin again." 
 
 Alluding to his uncle's visit, I said, " 1 
 suppose you had some good advice from 
 your uncle yesterday." " Yes, I had ; but 
 he ought to have prayed with me before 
 he went away." I said, "I don't know, 
 my dear ; perhaps your uncle saw that you 
 were too weak to bear it, and thought it 
 better to pray for you in his closet." 
 "Then," said he, "I have thought wrong ; 
 but I did not mean any harm." "It was 
 no harm for you to wish for prayer," I 
 replied. He said, "I love prayer, and I 
 hope you will talk to me about good things. 
 Shall I know my uncle, if I die? shall I 
 know John, and my brothers and sisters ?"— 
 
TO LITTLE JOSEPH. 13 
 
 referring to several who had died in in- 
 fancy. I told him he would; and that I 
 hoped they would rejoice together in heav- 
 en. 'Seeing that he was very weak, I 
 thought it best to go, though he begged 
 me to stay longer. 
 
 I visited him again in the evening, and 
 found several of the neighbors with him. 
 Hearing some one come in, he asked his 
 rnotherwho it was. I stepped forward to 
 his bed, and said, "It is I, Joseph." He 
 said, " 0, 1 am glad you have come ; please 
 sit down by me, and tell me more about 
 heaven, and about hell." I said to him, 
 ►"My dear, heaven is for you now, if you 
 love Jesus. Jesus spoke of that blessed 
 place to those who loved him, when he 
 I was in this world." I repeated to him a 
 part of the 14th chapter of John, and oth- 
 er portions of Scripture where those blessed 
 mansions are spoken of, that Jesus has 
 gone to prepare for them who love him. 
 
l4 GOD'S LOVE 
 
 ^how I love Jesus ; I do love Jesus." "I 
 trust that he has saved you from hell tor- 
 ments, dear Joseph; you said just. now 
 you wanted me to tell you of hell. It is a 
 place of darkness, where the wrath of God 
 is poured out without mercy. It is called 
 'outer darkness, where there is weeping 
 and wailing and gnashing of teeth,' a place 
 where all people deserve to go because of 
 their sins ; and whoever goes to that dreaa- 
 fal place, will never, no, never come out 
 ao-ain; for 'the smoke of their torment 
 ascendeth up for ever and ever,' and there 
 is no end." " 0," he exclaimed, " you have 
 said enough about it; this makes me love 
 God and Jesus more than ever." 
 
 Just then a boy passed his window, 
 whistling a song tune, one which he had 
 often whistled himself. " Hark," said he, 
 «do you hear that poor fellow? 0, poor 
 fellow, he is as dark as I was. I was like 
 him. I would not be back like him, for a 
 thousand worlds." 
 
TO LITTLE JOSEPH. 
 
 15 
 
 Ji 
 
 cl 
 +1 
 
 After he first thought he believed in 
 Jesus as the one who died for him on the 
 ;ross, he never looked back, or seemed to 
 lesire to live here longer. All he said to 
 those about him, showed that he was 
 greatly changed, and led us to hope that 
 this dear boy was truly born again of the 
 Holy Spirit ; and that his affections were 
 
16 
 
 GOD'S LOVE TO JOSEPH. 
 
 weaned from earth and set on things 
 above, where he desired and longed to be. 
 
 When I saw him again, he was near 
 death ; yet he talked of the love of God to 
 him, a poor sinner, and upon this his mind 
 was dwelling. 
 
 I was sick myself the next day, and un- 
 able to see him. When told that I was 
 very ill and could not come to him, and 
 asked if he would like to have any one 
 else to see him, he said, "No, the Lord is 
 with me." To his father and mother he 
 said, " I wish to meet you in heaven." 
 
 His weeping mother told me, after his 
 death, that his mind was staid on the Lord 
 to the last moment. Though suffering 
 much bodily pain, he bore it very patiently, 
 and departed in peace, trusting in the 
 Lord. f. h. 
 
CATHARINE PRYOR, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE HALF-CENT PREMIUM. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
-As I was returning from my class in 
 the city of Baltimore, May 22, 1854, 1 met 
 a woman whose dress and manner indi- 
 cated extreme poverty, and she asked me 
 
 I 
 
t 
 
 CATHARINE PRYOR. 
 
 if I was a Sabbath-school teacher. Telling 
 her that I was, she said her little girl was 
 lying very sick, and wished to see some 
 one who was a Sabbath-school teacher. ] 
 readily and gladly agreed to go with her 
 at once, and she led me to a small two- 
 story dwelling in the eastern part of Alice- 
 Anna-street. 
 
 In the upper apartment, upon a humble 
 bed in one corner of the room, I found the! 
 little girl. She had been confined there 
 for four months in a lingering consump- 
 tion. Her name was Catharine Pryor, and 
 she was twelve years old. 
 
 Previous to her sickness, she had at- 
 tended the Bethel Sabbath-school, where 
 she received her first impressions of "the 
 existence and character of God, and oi 
 the necessity of repentance and faith i: 
 the great atonement, and a preparatioi 
 while on earth for a happy eternity. Oi 
 her dying-bed she testified to the fidelit, 
 of her teacher in speaking to her of Chris? 
 
CATHARINE PRY OR. 5 
 
 and of his willingness to save all who 
 come unto him. This teacher seems to 
 -have sowed in her mind that seed which, 
 as we have delightful evidence, sprang up 
 to everlasting life. 
 
 | Catharine had received in the Sabbath- 
 school a little premium, called "Nathan- 
 iel," published by the American Tract So- 
 ciety—one of the fifty-two Bible stories 
 by the author of the Peep of Day, sold in 
 a packet for twenty-five cents; so that 
 this little tract cost but half a cent. 
 I It contained the hymn, " Will you go ?" 
 which is here given ; and I trust that the 
 reader will commit it to memory, apply to 
 some Sabbath-school teacher for the tune, 
 and that it may lead him to the feet of 
 Jesus Christ, where by a sincere and gen- 
 uine repentance and acceptance of the 
 terms of mercy, like Catharine, he may be 
 able to testify that the Lord has pardoned 
 all his offences. 
 
 $ During her illness, Catharine became 
 
6 
 
 CATHARINE PRY OR. 
 
 much concerned for the salvation of her 
 soul, and often thought of what she had 
 heard in the Sabbath-school. She esteemed 
 her little premium, with its beautiful hymn, 
 as her greatest earthly treasure. She had 
 heard the hymn sung, it had become her 
 delight ; and she wished to see a Sabbath- 
 school teacher who would sing it to her 
 again. 
 
 After having some conversation with 
 her about the salvation of her soul, during 
 which she manifested great concern, she 
 asked her mother to look into her drawer 
 and get out her little book, and then hand- 
 ed it to me, with a request that I would 
 sing the hymn. I began and sang it 
 through, verse after verse, during which 
 time she covered her pale face with her 
 little white handkerchief, and wept inces- 
 santly. I exhorted her to look to Jesus, 
 who had invited even little children to 
 corne unto him. 
 
 While engaged in these very solemn. 
 
CATHARINE PRYOR. 
 
 yet interesting exercises, a coarse, rougn- 
 looking man stood over her bedside, whom 
 she called "father," and for whose spirit- 
 ual welfare she exhibited the deepest anx- 
 iety. She entreated him with streaming 
 eyes, " to cease from his wicked ways, be- 
 come sober and prayerful, treat her mother 
 and the children right, and prepare to 
 meet her in glory." 
 
 Many a time during her continued ill- 
 ness did this wicked and degraded man 
 stagger to her bedside, and mingle with 
 the°horrible fumes of whiskey and tobacco 
 smoke with which his breath was poisoned, 
 his still more horrible oaths and curses. 
 But in these trying circumstances, this lit- 
 tle Christian would pray for her father. 
 Expostulating with him on one occasion, 
 she was heard to say, " 0, father, T hope 
 the Lord will teach you to repent and be- 
 come a better man." 
 
 Nor did she stop with exhortations to 
 her father ; for when the family on the first 
 
g CATHARINE PRYOR. 
 
 floor, and several of the neighbors came 
 up into the chamber and gathered around 
 the sick and dying-bed of the youthful 
 Christian, though far less advanced in 
 years than they, she hesitated not to exhort 
 them too to turn to the Lord, saying, 
 « Come, let us follow after Christ." « "Will 
 you go? Will you go?" 
 
 I soon called again to see her, and found 
 the interview on this, as on the former 
 occasion, very interesting and profitable. 
 Her mind was calm and clear ; a heaven- 
 born sweetness seemed to rest upon her 
 countenance, and I could almost imagine 
 that I heard a voice saying, "It is I, be 
 
 not afraid." 
 
 She said Jesus was precious to her soul, 
 that she had been praying to the Saviour 
 to prepare her for her change, and she 
 believed He had pardoned all her Bins, 
 She then requested me to sing her hyrnii 
 once more, which I did. 
 
 The great earnestness which Catharine 
 
CATHARINE PEYOR 9 
 
 manifested for the salvation of her friends, 
 was indeed one of the most attractive fea- 
 tures in her short history. 
 
 With so little means or opportunity for 
 instruction or improvement, as she had; 
 with irreligious parents, one of whom was 
 a drunkard; and almost without friends, 
 how can we account for her ever entering 
 the doors of a Sabba'th-school ? It must 
 have been effected through the guidance of 
 the Holy Spirit, whose gracious influence 
 opened the portals of religion to her sight. 
 
 When but one year old, her father died, 
 and the person whom I have alluded to as 
 filling this important relation, was such 
 by a second marriage of her mother. She 
 received from him much ill treatment, and 
 doubtless it was a source of great conso- 
 lation during her trials, to think that her 
 Maker would be a Father to the fatherless, 
 and that she might claim him as her heav- 
 enly Parent. 
 
 The teachers in the Sabbath-school knew 
 
10 CATHARINE PRYOR 
 
 of Jesus, and faithfully recommended him 
 to the youthful Catharine, who listened with 
 eager ears to the soul-inspiring sound of 
 salvation for the penitent, believing sin- 
 ner. What a consolation to this young 
 child, that when suffering deep and bitter 
 trials, she found her Saviour near to com- 
 fort her, and be a friend who would stick 
 closer than a brother. 
 
 Catharine was an industrious child ; she 
 assisted her poor mother in every possible 
 way to earn a livelihood for the family. 
 Her father brought very little home for the 
 support of his family, spending nearly all 
 his meagre earnings for drink ; so that the 
 entire responsibility of procuring the means 
 of subsistence was thrown upon the moth- 
 er, which was shared by the daughter to 
 the utmost of her ability. Even when 
 confined to her sick-bed, she would sit up 
 and sew for her mother, so that her feeble 
 aid might still contribute something tow- 
 ards the support of the family. 
 
CATHARINE PRYOR. 11 
 
 But in the latter part of Catharine's 
 life, she must have suffered much, for in 
 the last four weeks the joint efforts of 
 mother and daughter only produced one 
 dollar, to be applied to all the wants of a 
 family, with those of the afflicted child. 
 
12 CATHARINE PE.YOR. 
 
 On Sabbath, May 28, 1854, as I went 
 to visit my little charge, I found that her 
 spirit had gone to God who gave it. On 
 this morning before daylight, " the silver 
 cord was loosed," and her days on earth 
 were ended. Death had entered this cham- 
 ber, but Jesus was here too, and placed 
 upon the pallid countenance the marks of 
 a soul that had departed in peace. Even- 
 expression seemed to show that the Mas- 
 ter had come and taken his jewel home. 
 She had retained her reason, and spent 
 most of her last night on earth singing her 
 little hymn : 
 
 will you go ? 
 
 We 're travelling home to heaven above ; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 To sing the Saviour's dying love ; 
 
 Will you go? 
 Millions have reached that blessed shore, 
 Their toils and trials all are o'er, 
 But still there 's room for millions more ; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 
CATHARINE PRY OR. 
 
 "We 're going to walk the plains of light ; 
 
 "Will you go ? 
 Far, far from death, and curse, and night 
 
 Will you go ? 
 The crown of life we then shall wear, 
 The conquerer's palm we then shall bear. 
 And all the joys of heaven share ; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 
 We 're going to see the Weeding Lamb ; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 With joyful songs to praise his name ; 
 
 "Will you go? 
 Our sun will then no more go down, 
 Our moon will no more be withdrawn, 
 Our days of mourning past and gone ; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 
 The way to heaven is straight and plain 
 
 Will you go? 
 Repent, believe, be born again; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 The Saviour cries aloud to thee. 
 "Take up thy cross and follow me," 
 And thou shalt my salvation see ; 
 
 Will you go ? 
 
14 
 
 CATHARINE PRYOR. 
 
 0, could I hear some sinner say, 
 
 " I will go.;" 
 0, could I hear him humbly pray, 
 
 li Make me go ;" 
 And all his old companions tell, 
 "I '11 not go with you down to hell, 
 I long with Jesus Christ to dwell : 
 Let me go." 
 
 Almost her last words were addressed 
 to her mother, nearly as follows : 
 
 "Mother, say to the Sabbath-school 
 teacher who has so kindly visited me, that 
 I died happy in my Saviour ; that he has 
 forgiven my sins, and that I am not only 
 ready, but willing to die. 
 
 "Mother, put away all my little things 
 except the Sunday-school premium, con- 
 taining my beautiful hymn ; give that to 
 this teacher, and tell him that little book 
 was the means of leading my mind and 
 heart to seek and learn of Jesus Christ." 
 
 In a neat graveyard near the city of 
 Baltimore, now repose the mortal remaina 
 
CATHARINE PRY OR. 
 
 15 
 
 of this sweet little girl, who gave such 
 satisfactory evidence in life, and in her 
 dying hour, that her happy soul now rests 
 in the bosom of Jesus. 
 
 It is the fervent prayer of the writer, 
 that this little narrative may be instru- 
 mental in strengthening and encouraging 
 Sabbath-school teachers in the discharge 
 of their important duties. Remember that 
 the promises of God are sure, and that if 
 you are faithful, you shall reap a rich har- 
 vest, and your precious labor on earth be 
 crowned with the salvation of souls. 
 
 
 
 "SHED NOT A TEAR." 
 
 Shed not a tear o'er your friend's early bier, 
 
 When I am gene. 
 Sn>' ■ when the slow-tolling bell you shall hear, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 ■,'eep not for me when you stand round my grave; 
 Think who has died his beloved to save ; 
 Think of the crown all the ransomed shall have, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 
16 
 
 CATHARINE PRY OR 
 
 Plant ye a tree which may wave over me, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 Sing ye a song when my grave ye shall see, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 Come at the close of a bright summer's day ; 
 Come when the sun sheds his last lingering ray 
 Come and rejoice that I thus passed away, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 
 Plant ye a rose that may bloom o'er my head, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 Breathe not a sigh for the blest early dead, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 Praise ye the Lord that I 'm freed from all care 
 Serve ye the Lord that my bliss ye may share ; 
 Look up on high and believe I am there, 
 
 When I am gone. 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 ISO XASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 shall never forget a lesson which L 
 beived when quite a young lad, at the 
 
 sademy in B . Among my school- 
 
 illows were Hartley and Jemson. The}- 
 
4 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 were somewhat older than myself, and to 
 Jemson I looked up as a sort of leader, inl 
 matters of opinion as well as of sport, 
 He was not malieious, but he had a fool- 
 ish ambition of being thought witty and 
 sarcastic, and he made himself feared by a 
 besetting habit of turning things into rid 
 icule, so that he seemed continually on the 
 look-out for matter of derision. 
 
 Hartley was a new scholar, and little 
 was known of him among the boys. One 
 morning as we were on our way to school, 
 he was seen driving a cow along the roue 
 towards a neighboring field. A group oi 
 boys, among whom was Jemson, met kin 
 as he was passing. The opportunity waf 
 one not to be lost by Jemson. "Halloa, 
 he exclaimed, "what's the price of milkl 
 I say, Jonathan, what do you fodder od| 
 What will you take for all the gold on he 
 horns ? Boys, if you want to see the late 
 Paris style, look at those boots." 
 
 Hartley, waving his hand to us with 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE 5 
 
 pleasant smile, and driving the cow to the 
 field, took down the bars of a rail-fence, 
 saw her safely in the inclosure, and then 
 putting up the bars, came and entered 
 school with the rest of us. After school 
 
6 
 
 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 in the afternoon he let out the cow and 
 drove her off, none of us knew where. 
 And every day, for two or three weeks, he 
 went through the same task. 
 
 The boys of 13 ■ academy were nearly 
 
 all the sons of wealthy parents, and some 
 of them, among whom was Jemson, were 
 dunces enough to look down with a sort 
 of disdain upon a scholar who had to drive 
 a cow. The sneers and jeers of Jemson 
 were accordingly often renewed. He once, 
 on a plea that he did not like the odor 
 of the barn, refused to sit next to Hart- 
 ley. Occasionally he would inquire after 
 the cow's health, pronouncing the word 
 "ke-ow," after the manner of some of the 
 country people. 
 
 With admirable good-nature did Hart- 
 ley bear all these silly attempts to wound 
 and annoy him. I do not remember that 
 he was even once betrayed into a look or 
 word of angry retaliation. " I suppose, 
 Hartley," said Jemson, one day, "I sup- 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. I 
 
 pose your daddy means to make a milk- 
 man of you." « Why not?" asked Hart- 
 ley. « 0, nothing, only don't leave much 
 water in the cans after you rinse them, 
 that 's all." The boys laughed, and Hart- 
 ley, not in the least mortified, replied, 
 " Never fear ; if ever I am a milkman, I '11 
 give good measure and good milk." 
 5 The day after this conversation, there 
 was a public exhibition, at which a num- 
 ber of ladies and gentlemen from neigh- 
 boring cities were present. Prizes were 
 awarded by the principal of our academy, 
 and both Hartley and Jemson received a 
 Creditable number ; for in respect to schol- 
 arship, these two were about equal. After 
 ■he ceremony of distribution, the principal 
 Remarked that there was one prize, con- 
 sisting of a gold medal, which was rarely 
 awarded, not so much on account of its 
 great cost, as because the instances were 
 rare which rendered its bestowal proper. 
 It was the prize of heroism. The last boy 
 
8 . NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 who received one, was young Manners, 
 who, three years ago, rescued the blind 
 girl from drowning. 
 
 The principal then said that, with the 
 permission of the company, he would re- 
 late a short story. " Not long since, some 
 scholars were flying a kite in the street, 
 just as a poor boy on horseback rode by 
 on his way to the mill. The horse took 
 fright and threw the boy, injuring him so 
 badly that he was carried home, and con- 
 fined some weeks to his bed. Of the 
 scholars who had unintentionally caused 
 the disaster, none followed to learn the 
 fate of the wounded boy. There was one 
 scholar, however, who had witnessed the 
 accident from a distance, who not only 
 went to make inquiries, but stayed to rea- 
 der services. 
 
 "This scholar soon learned that the 
 wounded boy was the grandson of a poor 
 widow, whose sole support consisted in 
 selling the milk of a fine cow, of which she 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 9 
 
 was the owner. Alas, what could she now 
 do ? She was old and lame, and her grand- 
 son, on whom she depended to drive the 
 cow to pasture, was now on his back, help- 
 
10 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 less. ' Never mind, good woman,' said the 
 scholar, 'I can drive your cow.' With 
 blessings and thanks, the old woman ac- 
 cepted his offer. 
 
 "But his kindness did not stop here. 
 Money was wanted to get articles from 
 the apothecary. ' I have money that my 
 mother sent me to buy a pair of boots 
 with ; but I can do without them for a 
 while.' 4 Oh, no,' said the old woman, 
 ' I can't consent to that ; but here is a 
 pair of cowhide boots I bought for Henry, 
 Avho can't wear them. If you would only 
 buy these, giving us what they cost, wc 
 should get along nicely.' The scholar 
 bought the boots, clumsy as they were, 
 and has worn them up to this time. 
 
 " Well, when it was discovered by other 
 boys of the academy, that our scholar was 
 in the habit of driving a cow, he was as-l 
 sailed every day with laughter and ridi- 
 cule. His cowhide boots in particular, 
 were made matter of mirth. But he kept 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 11 
 
 on cheerfully and bravely, day after day, 
 never shunning observation, and driving 
 the widow's cow, and wearing his thick 
 boots, contented in the thought that he 
 
12 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE* 
 
 was doing right, caring not for all the 
 jeers and sneers that could be uttered. He 
 never undertook to explain why he drove 
 a cow, for he was not inclined to make a 
 vaunt of his charitable motives ; and fur- 
 thermore, in his heart he had no sympa- 
 thy with the false pride that could look 
 down with ridicule on any useful employ- 
 ment. It was by mere accident that his 
 course of kindness and self-denial was yes- 
 terday discovered by his teacher. 
 
 " And now, ladies and gentlemen, I ap- 
 peal to you, was there not true heroism in 
 this boy's conduct? Nay, Master Hart- 
 ley, do not slink out of sight behind the 
 blackboard. You arc not afraid of ridi- 
 cule, you must not be afraid of praise. 
 Come forth, come forth, Master Edward 
 James Hartley, and let us see your honest 
 face.'' 
 
 As Hartley, with blushing cheeks, made 
 his appearance, what a round of applause, 
 in which the whole company joined, spoke 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 13 
 
 the general approbation of his conduct. 
 The ladies stood upon benches and waved 
 their handkerchiefs. The old men wiped 
 the gathering moisture from the corners 
 of their eyes, and clapped their hands. 
 Those clumsy boots on Hartley's feet, 
 seemed a prouder ornament than a crown 
 would have been on his head. The medal 
 was bestowed on him amid general accla- 
 mation. 
 
 See here an illustration of the conscien- 
 tious discharge of duty, in the sight of 
 God. " Every one that exalteth himself, 
 shall be abased ; and he that humbleth 
 himself, shall be exalted." Let us not 
 seek the praise of men, but the honor that 
 cometh from God. Let us love him with 
 all our heart, and our neighbor as our- 
 selves, trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ 
 for mercy, and we shall receive all needed 
 good in this world, and in the world to 
 come life everlasting. 
 
 Let me tell you a good thing of Jem- 
 
14 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 son, before I conclude, lie was heartily 
 ashamed of his ill-natured raillery, and 
 after we were dismissed, he went with 
 tears of manly self-rebuke in his eyes, and 
 tendered his hand to Hartley, making a 
 handsome apology for his past ill-manners. 
 
NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 15 
 
 " Think no more of it," said Hartley, with 
 delightful cordiality ; " let us all go and 
 have a ramble in the woods before we 
 break up for vacation." The boys, one 
 and all, followed Jemson's example ; and 
 then we set forth with huzzas into the , 
 woods. What a happy day it was. 
 
 NOT ASHAMED OF HIS RELIGION. 
 
 Dartmouth college, on the Connecticut 
 river, at Hanover, New Hampshire, is one 
 of the oldest and most respectable colleges 
 in our country. It was named in honor of 
 Lord Dartmouth, an English nobleman, 
 who gave a large sum of money to endow 
 it. There is a fine picture of him in one 
 of the college halls. He was young, and 
 handsome, and rich, and accomplished; 
 but he had something far better than all 
 these, he had piety. He loved and hon- 
 ored his Saviour, and although at the 
 
16 NOT AFRAID OF RIDICULE. 
 
 time wheii he lived it was the fashion to 
 mock at serious things, he was never 
 ashamed of his religion. The king and 
 some noblemen agreed on one occasion to 
 take an early morning ride. They waited 
 a few minutes for Lord Dartmouth. On 
 his arrival, one of the company seemed 
 disposed to call him to account for his 
 tardiness. " I have learned to wait upon 
 the King of kings, before I wait upon my 
 earthly sovereign," was Lord Dartmouth's 
 answer. No matter what he had to do, 
 or who wanted him, reading the Bible and 
 secret prayer were duties which he never 
 put off. Let us remember his example, 
 and be faithful to God as he was. 
 
HELEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BEAUTY AND JOY OF EARLY 
 PIETY. 
 
 —116— 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
HELEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BEAUTY AND JOY OF EARLY PIETY. 
 
 'The mother and child had just risen 
 from their knees in prayer ; in which Helen 
 had expressed such love to Christ, and 
 such concern for the salvation of souls, as 
 greatly to surprise her mother. 
 
4 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 " Helen, my child, do you love the Sav- 
 iour ?" 
 
 " Yes, dear mother, with all my heart." 
 " But when did you begin thus to love 
 him?" 
 
 Helen related, with beautiful simplicity, 
 the dealings of God with her soul ; her 
 concern for salvation ; meeting with her 
 school companions to seek God's favor, and 
 spending the time of recess in prayer for 
 pardoning mercy. Though young, she had 
 felt herself to be a great sinner ; but we 
 doubt not she had given her heart to the 
 Saviour ; she loved Him, and was happy, 
 happy, more so than she could express. 
 
 Helen was at this time twelve years of 
 age ; of an amiable, cheerful disposition 
 and bright intellect, hopeful and earnest, 
 but of a naturally delicate constitution. 
 Trained by Christian parents, she loved to 
 commit to memory precious hymns, and 
 to search the Scriptures. She had been 
 
HELEN. 
 
 taught to pray daily, which habit of her 
 childhood was maintained from principle, 
 and was a source of sweet communion with 
 God, after her conversion, as long- as she 
 lived. She made a public profession of re- 
 ligion in the fourteenth year of her age, 
 and spent most of the three following years 
 at school, making evident progress in scrip- 
 tural knowledge and piety; exhibiting, 
 both at home and abroad, a beautiful ex- 
 ample of youthful devotion to Christ. 
 
 She was in the habit of conversing with, 
 or writing to her young friends, urging 
 the claims of religion. She often gathered 
 those of her own age into little meetings 
 for prayer; using her influence to win 
 them to Christ ; and especially to promote 
 the missionary cause, in which she hoped 
 some day personally to engage. 
 
 At the age of sixteen, she wrote, " Trust- 
 ing in Christ, and looking to Him, I will 
 try, 1. To live nearer to him. 2. To keep 
 
6 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 my heart and lips better. 3. To be a bet- 
 ter daughter, and more helpful to my 
 mother. 4. To be more careful of my in- 
 fluence over the children, and more careful 
 of my example. 5. Break off procrastina- 
 tion. 6. Watch and pray, trust in God 
 and think on my vows." With such pur- 
 poses, she diligently improved her time, 
 saying, " We should be thankful that all 
 we are charged with is to improve the 
 present moment ; not vainly to regret the 
 past, or look distrustfully into the future. 
 By living now, the past will begin to 
 brighten ; and as for the future, is it not 
 the eternal -present rolled up, and measured 
 off to us one moment at a time ?" 
 
 At seventeen, the scene of life began to 
 change. Her mother, who had often kneeled 
 with her in prayer, now watched the symp- 
 toms of disease. In her journal, April 22, 
 
 she wrote, , 
 
 « Dear Helen has been sick some time, 
 
HELEN. 
 
 i 
 
 and we fear dangerously. To day, after 
 some pleasant conversation, she began with 
 her feeble voice to sin<r — 
 
 o 
 
 " 'My Saviour, be thou near me 
 Through life's night ; 
 I cry, and thou wilt hear me — 
 
 Be my light. 
 My dim sight aching, 
 G-ently thou *rt making 
 Meet for awaking:, 
 
 Where all is bright. 
 Oh, through time's swelling ocean. 
 
 Be my guide ; 
 From tempest's wild commotion. 
 
 Hide, Oh, hide. 
 Life's crystal river 
 Storms ruffle never: 
 Anchor me ever 
 
 On that calm tide.' 
 
 " Then she spoke of life as never ending, 
 and pointing to her body, said, < This 7s 
 not me, only the case ; when we leave this 
 world, we go to a brighter, better sphere.' 
 Then she spoke of the plans and prospects 
 
6 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 for doing good which she had entertained ; 
 but ' God could raise up other instruments, 
 to fill the places of those taken away.' 
 
 « After a shower of rain she said, ' I wish 
 we could have a revival of religion, that 
 would come down gently, like this shower.' 
 
 « I asked her how her mind was. 
 
 « She replied, ' Quiet and cheerful.' 
 
 « Are you willing that God should do 
 he pleases with you ? ' Yes,' she replied. 
 
 « I fear, my dear child, God is going to 
 
 take you home. 
 
 « She said with some emotion, ' Well, it 
 will not be hard to part ; we shall soon 
 meet again, and perhaps converse in heaven 
 as we do now. I believe I shall not re- 
 cover of this sickness;' pausing a mo- 
 ment—' Ah, what a comfort to be in heaven 
 with Jesus, and never sin any more: Then 
 she added, ' I should like to do what good 
 I can ; talk to the children, and write some- 
 thing.' 
 
HELEN. 
 
 9 
 
 "She also expressed her confidence in 
 the Saviour, saying, 'He will carry me 
 safe through. ' I shall be satisfied when I 
 awake in his likeness.' 
 
 "At another time, Helen said, 'Dear 
 mother, my treasure and my heart are 
 somewhere, and I am going to them by 
 and by. Oh, how thankful we ought to 
 be, that this world is not our home, our 
 hope, our end.' 
 
 " ' It gives you comfort to look forward 
 to another life.' 
 
 "'Yes, it does; and it will not be 
 long.' 
 
 " ' Is the Saviour near and precious ?' 
 
 '"Yes, I think I feel his presence, and 
 am thankful to go to him while young.' " 
 
 In September, after the stated commun- 
 ion-season in church, the sacred ordinance, 
 at her desire, was administered to her at 
 home. In the evening she said, " We had 
 a refreshing communion. I have felt bet- 
 
10 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 ter all the afternoon. All seems clear and 
 bright; I shall go home to my Saviour 
 before long, and if he is willing, I will 
 come back to watch over you; and you 
 will come soon too." 
 
 Talking of the ministration of angels, 
 she said, " I should love to hover over you 
 all." She then spoke of several whom she 
 thought she should meet in heaven ; of the 
 great enjoyment she had experienced since 
 she professed religion, and of a text which 
 had been mentioned to her : " My flesh 
 and my heart failcth; but God is the 
 strength of my heart, and my portion for 
 ever." All this was spoken in a whisper, 
 with a cheerful and a happy countenance. 
 She added, her eyes beaming with joy, " I 
 shall be with the angels, and praise Him, 
 praise Him; I shall have my health too, 
 and my voice once more, I hope." 
 
 A few days after, Helen said to her 
 mother, who was sitting by her bedside 
 
HELEN. 
 
 11 
 
 fanning her, " Dear mother, what a happy 
 family we belong to : God for our Father; 
 Christ for our Saviour; in a little while 
 you will have one child in heaven. I shall 
 be there to welcome the rest as they come ; 
 I hope that will be a comfort to you when 
 I am gone, and you arc alone." 
 
 On her seventeenth birthday, she fin- 
 ished a mark, which she presented to her 
 mother with her "Daily Food;" saying, 
 " This is my last birthday ; years are not 
 marked in heaven."' 
 
 Exercised with much pain and restless 
 on her bed, though uncomplaining, prayer 
 was offered for her. She sweetly said, "I 
 feel that the Saviour is near to me, and does 
 all for me that I need ; I feel thankful and 
 happy. He does the very best thing for 
 me. Oh, what could I do without Christ 
 now? Miserable and wretched, had I no 
 support in him ; when nothing else relieves 
 me, I can pray and find comfort. I hope 
 
12 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 E will not put off religion to seek 
 
 when she is sick. She will need it then." 
 
 Declining gradually, Helen had already 
 survived longer than was expected; but 
 opportunity was thus afforded for the ex- 
 ercise of patience and submission, and for 
 an illustration of the fulness of divine grace 
 to give support and triumph in prospect of 
 death. " I hold out a great while," she said, 
 " but I feel as though God would carry me 
 gafely through. His arms are around me: 
 I do not fear the pains of death." 
 
 As she lay in sweet composure, with a 
 countenance indicating peace and joy, 
 « How thankful," she whispered, " I ought 
 to be for so many Christian friends, to 
 sympathize with me and pray for me. I 
 have been greatly, greatly blessed through 
 life, and I hope I shall praise Him for it." 
 
 During most of this sickness, she was 
 visited frequently, not only by older Chris- 
 tian friends, but by many of her youthful 
 
HELEN. 
 
 13 
 
 associates, who wore anxious to see her, 
 and for each of whom she had some kind 
 word, expressive of her desire for their 
 spiritual welfare. One, on retiring from 
 the sick-room, said, " She is the happiest 
 person I ever saw. She seems all ready 
 and waiting- to go to heaven." 
 
 Helen's room was usually cheered with 
 beautiful flowers, the gifts of friends. These 
 were pleasant to her, and she often ex- 
 pressed gratitude to the donors, and to the 
 Giver of all good, who put into their 
 hearts such thoughts of kindness to her. 
 But Christ was all — her support, her 
 strength, her joy. 
 
 She had taken leave of all the pleasant 
 objects and scenes around her : of the gar- 
 den in which she used to walk; of the 
 trees, flowers, and pleasure-spots of her 
 childhood ; of the chamber where she had 
 first communed with God ; and of one after 
 another of her young companions, bidding 
 
14 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 them all farewell. " I have hoped," said 
 she, "to live and to do good in the world ; 
 but now I hope that my early death will 
 be the means of life to many." 
 
 To her father, who often went in to read, 
 converse, and pray with her, she said, re- 
 ferring to the labors and trials of ministers, 
 " It is a privilege to die. I have enjoyed 
 seventeen years of happy life on earth, but 
 now I go to my holy happy home in heaven. 
 There all are holy as well as happy. I go 
 first, and shall be there to welcome you, 
 as one after another of the family shall 
 arrive." 
 
 The day before Helen died, select pas- 
 sages were read to her. " The Lord shall 
 be thine everlasting light ; and the days of 
 thy mourning shall be ended." Isa. 60 : 20- 
 " The city had no need of the sun, neither 
 of the moon to shine in it ; for the glory of 
 God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the 
 light thereof." Rev. 21 : 2, 3. 
 
HELEN. 
 
 15 
 
 "In the blest realms of endless day, 
 The Lamb shall all our wants supply ; 
 And G-od's own hand shall wipe away 
 The falling tear from every eye." 
 
 " That," said she, " is the home I am going 
 to." After a season of much distress, when 
 apparently near her end, her mother said, 
 "Do you want any thing?" "Only love 
 to Christ : he is kind to me ; he does not for- 
 sake me. I have so much of his presence 
 manifested to me, that 'I know, I know, 
 that my Redeemer liveth.' He will take 
 me; I have committed all to him. I shall 
 praise him in a day or two." Being told 
 that she could not probably live through 
 the day, she said, "I thank you." The 
 family being together, she repeated, "I 
 know that my Redeemer liveth : I am go- 
 mg to realms of glory. I am not afraid." 
 Then she sweetly addressed each one pres- 
 ent with words of love and comfort. 
 Iu the evening it was evident that death 
 
16 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 was near. Helen's mind was unclouded 
 and happy. She recognized all who were 
 about her. To the questions, " Is it light?" 
 "Is the Saviour near you?" she responded, 
 "Yes." "Do you enjoy his presence?" 
 "Yes." Then she whispered, "Father, 
 pray." He commended her departing 
 spirit to Christ. The last distinct words 
 which she uttered were, " It is light, all 
 light now. The Saviour is with me." 
 
 Thus lived, and thus died, Helen Ann, 
 second daughter of Rev. Asa P. Tenney, 
 of the West parish, Concord, N. H., aged 
 seventeen years, a happy illustration of 
 the beauty and joy of early piety, and of 
 the text preached from at her funeral: "I 
 love them that love me, and those that 
 seek me early shall find me." 
 
PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
A 
 
 YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 Sarah Elizabeth Harvey, daughter of 
 Joshua and Elizabeth Harvey members of 
 the Society of Friends in Dublin, was born 
 the fifth of sixth month, 1834. She gave 
 early indications of vigor both of body and 
 mind. When retiring to rest, she would say 
 
4 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 a little verse, or a few words of prayer of 
 her own suggesting, sitting very seriously 
 the while, and then quietly lying down for 
 the night. She often astonished us by the 
 language she used in these little prayers. 
 She was not afraid of being left alone in 
 the dark, saying, " Our heavenly Father 
 can see us in the dark as well as m the 
 light." 
 
 Her father, one night at bedtime, said 
 to her seriously, but gently, " My dear, rec- 
 ollect thou wast a little naughty to-day." 
 She immediately became very thoughtful 
 sicrhed once or twice, and made a solemn 
 pause ; then, as if desirous of knowing 
 whether others experienced the same strug- 
 gle between good and evil, she looked at 
 him, and said sweetly, but with evident 
 anxiety, " Papa, does thou ever do wrong 
 thyself?" He replied at once, " I do indeed, 
 nry child, and say wrong, and think wrong ; 
 but our heavenly Father would help us all 
 
A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 5 
 
 to be good, old and young-, if we desired 
 it and asked Him as we ought to do." 
 
 To those who are made sensible of the 
 evil of their own hearts, through the con- 
 victions of the Holy Spirit, how unspeak- 
 ably precious is this truth, « If any man 
 sin, we have an advocate with the Father, 
 Jesus Christ the righteous," a merciful 
 High-priest, touched with the feeling of 
 our infirmities, and ready to succor us in 
 all our conflicts with the enemy. 
 
 When about four years old, Sarah Eliz- 
 abeth was sent to a select day school for 
 a short time. " One day as we were walk- 
 ing home together," her mother writes, "a 
 beggar-woman with a child followed, im- 
 portuning us for a half-penny. Sarah Eliz- 
 abeth was very anxious to give her one. 
 I told her why I did not, and added, I 
 should have no objection to give her a 
 piece of bread or food of some kind. She 
 then said, 'Well, if we were at home, 
 
6 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 would thou give her a piece of bread?' 
 Not replying instantly, she added with her 
 usual promptness, ' Jesus Christ did not 
 send away the people without giving them 
 something to eat.' " 
 
 In the night of a tremendous storm in 
 1839, she was awaked by its violence ; but 
 if alarmed, as she naturally must have 
 been, she neither cried out, nor attempted 
 to disturb her parents. Our house, com- 
 paratively low, was felt to shake. Her 
 father, who had been some time awake, 
 did not gpeak, hoping his dear little one 
 would soon fall into her usual rest again. 
 He heard her repeat in a very low, gentle 
 voice, "Great storm, great storm," several 
 times, and then some other words in a sol- 
 emn manner, which he could scarcely catch. 
 She soon after fell asleep. In the morning, 
 the storm had abated, and only general 
 remarks were made about it, until night 
 drew on. Before she left the drawing-room 
 
■ 
 
 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 7 
 
 to go to her little bed, her father took her 
 on his knee and conversed quietly with 
 her, referring to the storm of the preced- 
 ing night. At length he said to her, " J 
 believe, my darling, I heard thee saying a 
 little prayer in the night, when the storm 
 was so very, very great." She answered, 
 very gently, "I did say a little prayer, 
 papa." " And what did thou say, my 
 child ?" She then put her arms round his 
 neck, and whispered in his ear, "I said, 
 Qreat and good heavenly Father, be pleased 
 to stop the winds, and have mercy on the 
 poor sailors, and save us all. Amen." 
 
 She was remarkably ready to share any 
 thing she had with others, and would fre- 
 quently say, " My friends are too kind. I 
 have too many things, more than I want." 
 After asking me to buy her some pretty 
 thing in the shop windows, she would 
 check herself and say, " I believe papa has 
 not much money," and would be content. 
 
8 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 I never'kncw Sarah tell a falsehood, or 
 equivocate in the slightest degree. She 
 seemed to have no idea of concealment. 
 
 The night of her birthday, being then 
 five years old, she spoke very sweetly, and 
 among other things, she expressed herself 
 thus in her little prayer before lying down : 
 " Oh, great and good heavenly Father, be 
 pleased to spare me, thy only little child in 
 this house, a little longer to my father and 
 mother ; and spare us all a little longer to- 
 gether on this earth, if it be thy holy will." 
 The whole was very touching to a mother'? 
 heart. Another night, she said we did 
 not know what to pray for as we ought ; 
 and that the disciples, though they were 
 big men, asked the Saviour, " Lord, teach 
 us to pray ;" and she then repeated the 
 Lord's prayer very solemnly. 
 
 On returning from a visit to Bloomsbury, 
 her father presented her two little hymns 
 which he had composed for her use, and 
 
A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 9 
 
 printed with a pen, that she might have 
 the pleasure of reading them herself. She 
 was delighted with them; and from that 
 period to her death, often repeated them. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 Dear Lord, another day has come. 
 And through the hours of night, 
 
 In a good bed and quiet home, 
 I 've slept till morning light. 
 
 Then let me give thee thanks and praise 
 
 For thou art very good ; 
 And teach my little heart to raise 
 
 Such prayer as children should. 
 
 Keep me this day from faults and sin, 
 And make me good and mild : 
 
 Thy Holy Spirit place within ; 
 Grant grace unto a child. 
 
 Make me obey my parents dear, 
 
 For they are very kind ; 
 And when the hour of rest draws near. 
 
 Another prayer I '11 find. 
 
10 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 The day is gone — the silent night 
 Invites nie to my peaceful bed ; 
 
 But, Lord, I know that it is right 
 To thank thee, ere I rest my head. 
 
 For my good meals and pleasant hours, 
 That I have had this present day, 
 
 Let me exert my infant powers 
 To praise thee, nor forget to pray. 
 
 Thou art most good. I can't tell all 
 That thou hast ever done for me ; 
 
 My Shepherd, now on thee I call, 
 From dangers still preserve us free. 
 
 If I 've been naughty on this day, 
 Oh, make me sorry for my fault : 
 
 Do thou forgive, and teach the way 
 To follow Jesus as I ought. 
 
 And now I "11 lay me down to rest ; 
 
 Myself, my friends, all safely keep : 
 May thy great name be ever blest, 
 
 Both when we wake and when we sleep, 
 
A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 11 
 
 Little Sarah Elizabeth played with great 
 spirit and heart. She directed the little 
 pastimes of her play-fellows, though some 
 of them were a good deal older then her- 
 self ; and I can scarcely recollect any seri- 
 ous difference that she had with any of 
 Lhem. We are never better prepared for 
 innocent enjoyment than when we feel that 
 our best and highest duties have had the 
 best and highest place, when our heavenly 
 Father is in our hearts and affections, "first 
 and last, and midst, and without end." 
 
 It was truly gratifying to see papa and 
 his child at lively play ; sometimes talk- 
 ing together right merrily, at others seri- 
 ously. When she begged her father to 
 play with her, or do something for her, if 
 he were not engaged he was wont to 
 answer her promptly, " With the greatest 
 pleasure." She seemed to catch this spirit, 
 and when I called her to do something for 
 me, she would reply, "With the greatest 
 
12 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 pleasure, mamma ;" or if she happened to 
 be much engaged with her childish con- 
 cerns, the answer would be, " In one little 
 minute, mamma." When I was putting 
 her to-bcd one night, not being quite well, 
 she said, in a very feeling manner, " Oh, 
 great and good heavenly Father, be pleased 
 to grant me patience; and be pleased to 
 grant all the little children in the world 
 that are sick, patience, for they don't al- 
 ways have patience; and be pleased to 
 grant my little cousin J P- — — pa- 
 tience ; and be pleased to take him to thy 
 holy kingdom, if it is not thy holy will to 
 leave him any longer on this earth." 
 
 Another night, after giving thanks, and 
 naming many of the good things she had 
 received through the day, she added, in a 
 very serious manner, " And be pleased, 
 Lord, to make us love thee, and bless thee, 
 and obey thee ; and if it be thy holy will 
 to take us to heaven — father and mother 
 
A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 13 
 
 and little child — it will be very comforta- 
 ble. We shall not have pain or sickness ; 
 we shall not want food, nor rest, nor sleep, 
 nor any of the things we have on this earth ; 
 and be pleased to take care of us this night, 
 and of all our friends. Amen." 
 
 Once on a pathway she met with very 
 rude usage. Two well-dressed boys were 
 doing something to a little cart they had. 
 The child stopped to look at them, when 
 one of them very roughly pushed her off, 
 and struck her. Her feelings were deeply 
 hurt, being unable to form an idea why 
 this act was done ; but astonishment and 
 grief appeared to possess her mind, with- 
 out any desire of revenge. She repeated, 
 sorrowfully, several times, "I was doing 
 nothing at all to them." Her father en- 
 deavored to soothe her, telling her of our 
 natural proneness to evil, until changed by 
 divine grace ; and how dependent children 
 are upon the training of their parents. She 
 
14 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 seemed afterwards -to have a kind of Chris- 
 tian pity for the boy, more than any other 
 feeling. 
 
 Sarah Elizabeth had the measles in the 
 early part of 1840, from which she ap- 
 peared to recover. Many things were read 
 to her during this illness. On getting to 
 the end of Pilgrim's Progress, she said, " I 'd 
 like to hear every word of that book over 
 again." In the third month she appeared 
 to have a heavy cold, which resulted in a 
 spasmodic cough. The fits of coughing 
 exhausted her much; her pulse became 
 quick, and her breathing short. She took 
 to her bed, from which she was never raised 
 up. She wished to have her mother al- 
 ways with her, asking her to repeat hymns 
 very often. Leaning over her one night 
 when she was suffering much, she asked, 
 " My darling, dost thou love thy mother?" 
 "I do, and that's the reason I don't like 
 to die." Her father had several times in- 
 
A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 15 
 
 ti mated, that he believed her heavenly Fa- 
 ther would, before long, take her to himself. 
 
 She desired one day to be left alone a 
 few minutes ; on returning, I asked her the 
 cause. She replied, " I wanted to say a 
 little prayer alone." 
 
 At length, after many weeks of pain and 
 suffering, she was gently released. An ex- 
 pression of heavenly joy passed over her 
 countenance, as her spirit took its flight to 
 
 '•The bosom of her Father and her God 
 and we believe she is now united to that 
 countless number of little ones who praise 
 their Redeemer for ever and ever. 
 
 She was interred twenty-third of sixth 
 month, 1840, in Friends' burial-ground, 
 Cook-street, Dublin, aged six years. 
 
 Yes, there are little ones in heaven, 
 Babes such as we around the throne ; 
 
 To whom the King of kings has given 
 A glory like his own : 
 
16 A YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. 
 
 Jesus, thy mercy, rich and free, 
 Hath suifercd them to come to thee. 
 
 , Those blessed children in the sky, 
 
 Went from this sad and sinful earth ; 
 
 How were their spirits raised so high 
 Above their native birth ? 
 
 They came to Christ, and so will we; 
 
 Lord, suffer us to come to thee : 
 
 To come with lowliness of mind, 
 
 With simple faith and earnest prayer, 
 
 To seek thy precious cross, and find 
 Peace, joy, salvation, there. 
 
 0, set our sin-bound spirits free, 
 
 And suffer us to come to thee : 
 
 To come while we are young and gay, 
 While life, and joy, and hope run high 
 
 To come in sorrow's gloomiest day ; 
 To come when death is nigh. 
 
 Lord, in that day our guardian be, 
 
 And suffer us to come to thee. 
 
PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
THE 
 
 LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 Chinnatungkum was the name of a little 
 Hindoo girl whose home was in Ceylon. 
 Her parents were heathen, and like most 
 
4 THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL 
 
 children in that land, she early learned to 
 worship idol gods of wood and stone. 
 
 When about five years old, a mission- 
 ary persuaded her father to send her to 
 one of the mission schools, and there she 
 first heard of the living and true God. 
 She learned very fast, and was soon able 
 to read the Bible ; but before she could 
 read she had learned many Bible stories 
 from her teacher. She liked very much 
 to hear about good little Samuel, and 
 about Daniel, who was not afraid to do 
 right ; but more than all she liked to hear 
 about Jesus Christ, and how he suffered 
 and died for her. 
 
 What she learned at school, she would 
 tell at home. She refused to pray to 
 "Swamy," the heathen god, or to have 
 the sacred ashes rubbed on her forehead 
 and arms, because the teacher said it was 
 wrong, and was displeasing to J esus. Some- 
 times her friends were angry, and scolded 
 her, and sometimes laughed at her for this, 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 5 
 
 but she bore it all very patiently. She 
 especially loved prayer, but as her father 
 was poor, and they had only one room in 
 their house, she had no quiet place to go 
 to. So she would ask her mother and 
 others to be still, and then she would kneel 
 in one corner of the room and pray for 
 them and for herself. 
 
 Though so young, Chinnatungkum was 
 faithful in trying to do good to others. 
 She often talked with her heathen mother 
 and other friends, and tried to teach them 
 about Christ, as her teacher had taught 
 her. Sometimes she would gather a few 
 of her playmates and have a little meeting 
 with them. 
 
 We hoped that this dear child would 
 be spared to be a light in that dark land ; 
 but our heavenly Father had purposed 
 other things for her. When about nine 
 years old, she was taken sick. As she 
 grew worse her father came and said she 
 wished to see me. I went the next day 
 
(', THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 to their house. It was so low that I had 
 to stoop when I entered, and as there was 
 no window, it was so dark that at first I 
 could hardly see the sick child. I found 
 her very ill, and lying not on a nice clean 
 bed such as children in Christian lands 
 have, but on a coarse mat spread on the 
 mi id floor. 
 
 I had hardly seated myself by her side 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 7 
 
 when she said in pleading- tones, "Please 
 to pray with me." When asked what we 
 should pray for, she said, " That Jesus will 
 take away all my sins, and make me pure 
 and clean in heart." And immediately 
 covering her face with her hands, she be- 
 gan to pray, first for herself, that Jesus 
 would wash her in his own blood and 
 make her clean, as she expressed it, and 
 then she prayed for her parents and broth- 
 ers and sisters, that God would give them 
 new hearts and make them his own chil- 
 dren. She closed by slowly repeating the 
 Lord's prayer. She was suffering greatly, 
 and many times her voice faltered, and for 
 a moment she was unable to go on. When 
 her prayer was ended I saw the tears trick- 
 ling down the face of her heathen mother, 
 who sat beside her, and heard her father 
 sobbing in the corner of the room. 
 
 I said to her, " In your prayer you said 
 you loved Jesus; why do you love him?" 
 "0," said she holding up her thin little 
 
8 THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 hands, " He is so good, and he has taken 
 away my sins." " Why do you think he 
 has taken them away ?" " Because he said 
 he would, and I have asked him to.' 
 " And do you love to think of Him and 
 l'eel that he is near to you?" I asked. " 0, 
 yes, and he is here all the clay, and night 
 too. I cannot see him, but I can feel that 
 he is right here, and he helps me bear my 
 pain." " Yes, my dear, He is here ; trust 
 wholly in him and you are safe ; He loves 
 you better than you do him ; He suffered 
 much more pain for you than you ever can 
 have." " Yes, yes, he did," was her quick 
 reply. 
 
 In talking more with her, I found she 
 wanted very much to own Christ publicly 
 before she died, because, as she said, she 
 was Jesus' child, and he had told his chil- 
 dren they must confess him before the 
 world. I told her we would see about it. 
 "But, soon," she replied, "for I have much 
 pain, and I think I shall die." 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 9 
 
 As I rose to go, she said, « Come again, 
 and please pray for me in your house, and 
 
 ask Mr. M to pray too." "What 
 
 shall we ask for you ?" « That Jesus will 
 forgive my sins and take me to heaven." 
 " But," said T, " are you willing to leave 
 your father and mother and brothers and 
 sisters?" " Yes, I want to go; but pray 
 for them too, that God will make them 
 ready to come, and then we shall all be 
 there together, and that will be joy in- 
 deed." As she said this, she raised her 
 head ; her face lighted up with joy at the 
 thought, and her pain was forgotten. 
 
 The next day several of the missionaries 
 went to see Chinnatungkum, and they felt 
 that she gave such evidence of being a 
 child of God, that they could not refuse 
 her earnest request that she might show 
 her love for her Saviour in a public man- 
 ner. So on the same day we went to her 
 home just at sunset, where we found her 
 friends, native Christians, and others gath- 
 
10 THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 ered together, in the name of our only 
 Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and to 
 worship Him instead of the dumb and 
 polluting idols they had ignorantly serv- 
 ed. They were seated on mats under the 
 shade of a Margosa-tree, before the door 
 of the house, which was too small for all 
 to enter. It was a very pleasant scene, 
 and we almost forgot, in that precious 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIEL. 11 
 
 little meeting, that we were in a heathen 
 land. 
 
 No one enjoyed it more than the little 
 girl. When asked what name she would 
 have in place of her heathen one, she re- 
 plied, " Give me one that will please Jesus." 
 Mary was mentioned as the name of one 
 whom Jesus loved. " Call me Mary, then," 
 she said. A sweet peaceful smile was on 
 her face, and she seemed just on the verge 
 of heaven. When the closing prayer was 
 ended, she begun praying herself, but was 
 too weak and tired to go on, and was car- 
 ried back to her low bed. 
 
 During the night she spoke of the meet- 
 ing with great delight ; and said she was 
 glad to show to others that she loved 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 The next day she was worse ; she suf- 
 fered much, but she bore all patiently, and 
 wanted only prayer. Whenever a Chris- 
 tian entered, she would not rest until he 
 had prayed with her. If her heathen 
 
12 THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 friends came, there was no such request, 
 but she would try to tell them of the Sav- 
 iour. In the evening she talked with her 
 father, and told him that she should soon 
 die, that she was not afraid, but she was 
 troubled about him, because he was not a 
 Christian, and was not prepared to die. 
 She begged her mother to leave off heathen 
 ceremonies, seek the true God, and be 
 ready to follow her to heaven. 
 
 The next morning, while one of the na- 
 tive Christians who had gone in to see her, 
 was at her request praying with her, she 
 said, "I cannot hear; speak louder;" but 
 death was closing those ears, and she was 
 already losing the sound of prayer in the 
 sweet songs of heaven. 
 
 In the afternoon she was buried in the 
 mission yard near our house, and there 
 lies little Mary's body ; but her soul, we 
 trust, is with Jesus, the good Shepherd 
 who gave his life for the sheep, and who 
 carries the lambs in his bosom. 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 13 
 
 Mary's happy death made much talk 
 among the heathen. " Why is this ?" they 
 said. " She, though a little child, was not 
 afraid to die. It is not so with our relig- 
 ion, it does not make people so happy." 
 
 Nor did Mary's mother forget that 
 peaceful death; her child's dying words 
 were sounding in her ears : " Mother, do 
 not go to the idol-temples any more ; leave 
 off heathen ceremonies, and go to the place 
 where the missionaries preach about the 
 true God, and about Jesus." The next 
 Sabbath found her in church ; and there 
 she came Sabbath after Sabbath. Though 
 so old, she wanted to learn to read, and 
 would sit for hours hearing her children 
 repeat the stories of the Bible, and saying 
 after them their hymns and catechisms. 
 In less than a year from Mary's death, her 
 mother seemed to be truly a follower of 
 Christ, and was received into the church. 
 She is still alive, and is a happy Christian. 
 Her very face is changed, and it is good to 
 
14 THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 see and talk with her. She says she blesses 
 God for taking away her little girl, for 
 thus her own eyes were opened, and she 
 was led to seek the Saviour. Mary's two 
 sisters have also, we hope, given their 
 hearts to God; and thus Mary's prayers 
 are being answered, and she " being dead, 
 yet speakcth." 
 
 Many who read this short history, are 
 in the habit of giving their pennies to 
 send teachers to the heathen. It was in 
 the schools that you help support, that 
 Mary was taught of Jesus. Is it not bet- 
 ter to give your money to save precious 
 souls, to help in bringing such children 
 where Jesus is, than to spend it for useless 
 things for yourselves ? 
 
 But while giving for others, take care 
 that you do not lose your own soul. How 
 sad, if after having aided in bringing oth- 
 ers to heaven, you should yourselves fail 
 of reaching that happy home. This may 
 be, it will be, if you do not, like little 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL 15 
 
 Mary, repent of your sins, trust in the 
 Saviour, and love and obey him. May you 
 be able to say as she did, "I love Jesus 
 because he is so good, and has taken away 
 my sins." 
 
 u I saw a cottage, low and drear, 
 In a far heathen land ; 
 And angels bright were lingering near, 
 A spotless happy band. 
 
 I wondered much that angels there 
 Should pause on glittering wings ; 
 
 But hark ! upon the silent air 
 The name of Jesus rings. 
 
 And now I see a little child 
 
 Wasting by death away; 
 And now 1 hear her accents mild — . 
 
 What does the dying say ? 
 
 'Jesus is with me; he is near 
 
 All through the night and day ; 
 I am his child, and cannot fear — 
 He 's washed my sins away. 
 
 0, pray for me, that I may go 
 To heaven, my happy home ; 
 
 And pray for those 1 leave below, 
 That thither they may come.' 
 
THE LITTLE HINDOO GIRL. 
 
 Ah, well may angels bend in love 
 
 O'er such a scene as this, 
 And joyful wait to hear above, 
 
 The rescued soul to bliss. 
 
 Dear children, 'tis a blessed thing 
 
 One heathen soul to save : 
 To aid this work your offerings bring — 
 
 Think what the Saviour gave." 
 
JOHNNY LATHAM. 
 
 John Latham was the son of a poor 
 but pious widow, who hoped he would 
 grow up to be a support and comfort to 
 her in old age. He had been some years 
 at the Sunday-school; and having made 
 
4 JOHNNY LATHAM; OR, 
 
 great progress in Scripture knowledge, he 
 was removed to the highest class but one 
 in the school. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, as Johnny was 
 coming down the lane where his mother 
 lived, he met Eobert Wilcox, a boy who 
 had left the school, and who asked John- 
 ny to take a walk with him in the fields. 
 Johnny thought of the text he had learned : 
 " Enter not into the path of the wicked, 
 and go not in the way of evil men. Avoid 
 it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass 
 away," Prov. 4:14, 15, and he resolved 
 not to go with him ; yet he thought, as it 
 was so early, he could talk with Robert a 
 little longer before he went on to school. 
 Robert enticed him into the fields, and 
 when he entered the Sabbath-school, he 
 was half an hour too late. 
 
 Now was the time for Johnny to be tried. 
 Conscience said, " Confess at once to your 
 teacher, for he is very kind, and will help 
 you to keep from the temptation again.'' 
 
THE APPLE-TREE. 
 
 5 
 
 But self-love stepped in, and said, "No, no ; 
 if you tell this to the teacher, he wont think 
 sO well of you ;" and self-confidence add- 
 ed, " You know you are not going to do 
 it again." Conscience whispered again, 
 "Pray for help;" but Johnny had no wish 
 to be helped, or to pray; so poor Johnny 
 was taken captive by his sins; and, with 
 his head hanging down and blushing deep- 
 ly, he said his mother had sent him with a 
 message to an aunt that afternoon. The 
 falsehood was told, and now Satan had got 
 the complete mastery. He was very un- 
 happy all the rest of that day, and was 
 glad when bed-time came, for he had never 
 felt so miserable before ; yet his heart was 
 already beginning to be hardened. 
 
 Some Sabbaths after, Robert met him 
 again. Johnny was more easily persuaded 
 than before to go for a walk with him. 
 They strolled together for some time, and 
 then Johnny found he would be very late 
 at school, and taking Robert's advice, he 
 
6 JOHNNY LATHAM; OR, 
 
 stayed away all that afternoon, and told a 
 falsehood about it the following Sunday. 
 After this, he was often absent from school. 
 His teacher no longer trusted him ; he be- 
 came more and more unhappy, and was not 
 so kind to his mother as he used to be. 
 
 And did his poor mother not know any 
 thing about his staying away from school"? 
 yes, Johnny's teacher told her all, and 
 it made her heart very sad. She talked 
 to Johnny; but she knew that was not 
 enough : she prayed for him too. She ask- 
 ed God to save her boy from the bad way 
 in which he was walking, and he who has 
 said, " Ask, and it shall be given you," soon 
 answered her prayers ; but in a way, per- 
 haps, that you would never have expected. 
 
 One bright Sunday afternoon, Johnny 
 had arranged to go for a walk with Rob- 
 ert Wilcox. He met Robert with a bag 
 on his shoulder, which he had brought to 
 put some wild nuts into. They amused 
 themselves on the way by catching butter- 
 
THE APPLE- TREE. 
 
 7 
 
 Mies in their caps, till Robert tore his jacket 
 in trying to get through a hedge after one. 
 He got very cross at this, and Johnny was 
 tired and heated, and began to think he 
 should have been happier at school, listen- 
 ing to the Bible stories that their teacher 
 used to explain to them, or receiving a 
 ticket for good conduct, which he knew 
 would help to get him a reward-book at 
 Christmas. 
 
 " I wish I had not come with you," he said 
 at last, in a very angry tone, to Robert. 
 
8 
 
 JOHNNY LATHAM; OR, 
 
 " Well, nobody asked you." 
 
 "I am sure you did." 
 
 " Not I," said Robert, "I told you I was 
 going for a walk ; but I never asked you 
 to come." 
 
 " Well, any how, it was you that took 
 me away from school at first, and then 
 told me to tell a lie about it; and now 
 when I tell the truth, the teacher will not 
 believe me. I wish I had never hearkened 
 to you ; I have been miserable ever since." 
 
 A fearful oath fell from the lips of Rob- 
 ert at this confession, such as Johnny had 
 not heard before, and he gave him a more 
 angry reply in return. Their quarrel would 
 soon have come to blows, had not Johnny 
 perceived that Robert was looking very at- 
 tentively at a large apple-tree they were just 
 approaching, which extended its branches 
 over a wall. They were laden with fruit, 
 but too high for the bovs to touch. Rob- 
 ert, without saying a word, took up a 
 stone and cast it at the bough. 
 
THE APPLE-TREE. 
 
 9 
 
 "Those apples are not ours," said John- 
 ny; "you have no right to do that." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, and do n't preach to 
 me," returned Robert. Saying this, he 
 took up another stone, and knocked down 
 one of the finest. 
 
 Johnny looked wistfully at Robert while 
 he was eating it, as he saw the rich juice 
 flow till it fell in large drops on the ground. 
 "Why cannot I do the same?'' thought he. 
 The words, "Thou shalt not steal," came 
 across his mind, but Johnny had so often 
 broken God's commands, that he found it 
 
10 JOHNNY LATHAM; OR, 
 
 an easy thing to do so now ; and breaking 
 through the hedge, he clasped the tree with 
 all his might, and soon reached the top. 
 
 All this time, widow Latham is sitting' 
 in her quiet cottage, reading the word of 
 God ; and every now and then she draws 
 a deep sigh, and many tears fall on the 
 book. Her son Johnny had told her openly 
 that afternoon, for the first time, that he- 
 did not intend to go to school; and then 
 rushed away without staying to hear her 
 remonstrances. The widow turned back to 
 her house and her Bible with a heavy heart. 
 
 As she was sitting thus sadly, Mrs. La- 
 tham thought she heard the sound of dis- 
 tant voices. They came nearer, and she 
 was just rising to see what it was, when 
 the door was suddenly pushed open, and a 
 little boy, breathless with haste, rushed in, 
 exclaiming, " 0, Mrs. Latham, your John- 
 ny was stealing apples this afternoon from 
 farmer Hodge's orchard, and he fell off the 
 tree and broke his arm." 
 
THE APPLE-TREE. H 
 
 " What, my Johnny?" said Mrs. Latham, 
 trembling from head to foot. " Where is 
 he?" But without waiting for an answer, 
 she rushed into the street, and in a mo- 
 ment was by Johnny's side. He was 
 pale and weary-looking, and his eyes were 
 swelled with crying. Mrs. Latham asked 
 one of those who were with him to run 
 directly for a doctor, and taking his arm 
 as gently as she could, she led him into 
 the house. She scarcely spoke ; she thought 
 this was not the time to reprove him. The 
 punishment was enough, but she prayed 
 to God that this accident might be over- 
 ruled to the saving of his soul. Johnny 
 was all the time groaning and sobbing 
 with pain, and seemed to think it very 
 hard that he should suffer so much. 
 
 The doctor arrived soon, and set the 
 arm ; that is, he fixed the broken bone so 
 that it would grow together again. This 
 was so painful, Johnny could scarcely bear 
 it, and all night long he suffered a great 
 
12 JOHNNY LATHAM; OB, 
 
 deal, and tossed from side to side in bed, 
 without being able to get any rest. 
 
 He said little to his mother, who was in 
 the same room with him, listening to every 
 movement, and rising from time to time to 
 see if she could make him more comfort- 
 able, or to offer him something cooling to 
 drink". 
 
 But though Johnny did not speak, he 
 thought a great deal, and those thoughts 
 were more serious than any he had had for 
 a long time. He wished to speak them out 
 to his mother, but did not do so then, and 
 towards morning he fell into an uneasy 
 sleep. ITc awoke starting, and saw his 
 mother bringing in his breakfast. 
 
 "Where am I?" said Johnny, rising sud- 
 denly, and looking bewildered; "mother, 
 is it you?" 
 
 " Yes, my boy ; here is your breakfast. 
 I have brought you a cup of tea. Do you 
 think you could drink it?" 
 
 " Oh, mother, I do n't deserve it ; I have 
 
THE APPLE-TREE. 
 
 13 
 
 been a wicked boy. Can you forgive me, 
 mother?" 
 
 Mrs. Latham kissed him, and told him 
 she had forgiven him long ago, but she 
 hoped he would ask God to do it. 
 
 "0, mother, I am afraid. I had a fright- 
 ful dream this morning : I thought I was 
 stealing apples again, and the branch broke 
 under me, and I fell down, down, down to a 
 deep pit that had no bottom, and I heard a 
 voice, saying, 'Depart from me.' Hooked 
 for some way to escape, but could find none ; 
 and then I awoke and saw you coming in, 
 and could not believe at first that I was 
 not in that terrible place: but don't you 
 think, mother, that God sent me that dream 
 to tell me he would not pardon me?" 
 
 "No, Johnny, God has allowed your con- 
 science to tell you what you deserve; but 
 he says in his blessed word, 'Whoso con- 
 fessed and forsakcth his sins shall have 
 mercy;' and, 'The blood of Jesus Christ 
 his Son cleanseth us from all sin.' Prov. 
 
14 JOHNNY LATHAM; OR, 
 
 28:13; 1 John 1:7. We need not be 
 afraid to ask him for the Holy Spirit, and 
 to trust his promise to save all who believe 
 in Christ Jesus. Do you remember reading 
 to me about the prodigal son?" 
 
 " Yes," said Johnny, sadly ; « ' When he 
 was yet a great way off, his father saw 
 him, and ran, and fell on his neck, and 
 kissed him.'" Luke 15: 20. 
 
 " You are a great way off, Johnny ; but 
 God sees your wish to return, and he has 
 the best robe ready for you, even the right- 
 eousness of Christ. That will cover all 
 your sins." 
 
 "But I don't think any body was ever 
 as wicked as I am," said Johnny. 
 
 "Jesus says, « I came not to call the right- 
 eous, but sinners to repentance,' " replied his 
 mother. " Do you remember that hymn ? 
 
 t: ' There is a fountain filled with blood, 
 Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; 
 And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 
 Lose all their guilty stains.' " 
 
THE APPLE-TREE. 
 
 ]5 
 
 Johnny made no answer, but be seemed 
 pleased to listen to the many beautiful 
 texts his mother continued to repeat. 
 
 Have you ever, little boy or girl who 
 are reading this book, wished to come to 
 Jesus, but thought that you were too wick- 
 ed? Oh, think of this message which God 
 sends to you now: "Let the wicked for- 
 sake his way, and the unrighteous man his 
 thoughts : and let him return unto the Lord, 
 and he will have mercy upon him ; and to 
 our God, for he will abundantly pardon." 
 Do not wait to become better, but trust in 
 Christ as you are, and he will receive you. 
 
 Johnny felt it very hard to believe that 
 God would forgive him • but he asked his 
 mother to pray with him. She knelt down 
 by his bedside and asked God to pardon 
 him, and give him his Holy Spirit, and 
 make him one of his flock, and never suf- 
 fer him to wander. Johnny prayed too, 
 and told his mother he felt more happy 
 then than he had for a long time. 
 
16 JOHNNY LATHAM, ETC 
 
 After this he had many weary days and 
 nights to pass before his arm got well again. 
 The Sunday, however, came at last when 
 he was able to go once more to worship 
 and to school ; and a bright sunny day 
 it was. Johnny's heart was light, for he 
 had determined, not in his own strength, 
 but looking to God for help, to choose 
 Him for his portion, and to keep henceforth 
 from bad companions. 
 
 That evening he came into the cottage, 
 on his return from school, with his old 
 happy face, only it seemed to be bright- 
 er than ever, telling his mother that he 
 thought he had never spent such a pleasant 
 afternoon before ; and, " mother," he said, 
 looking very grave, " I have often thought 
 that if I had not broken my arm, T mierht 
 have gone on from bad to worse, till I had 
 ended my days in misery." 
 
HE BURNT CHILD 
 
 A NARRATIVE. 
 
 BY HER PASTOR. 
 
 — 120 — 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 X ASS AU STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 Sarah D was in her Sabbath- 
 
 school on the Lord's day. Three days 
 after, she got up in the morning in health, 
 little suspecting that any danger was near. 
 
4 
 
 THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 She went down to the kitchen to iighl 
 t he fire ; her clothes caught fire, and befor< 
 assistance could be given her, she was so 
 badly burnt that she died before the week 
 was over.* 
 
 She was a poor girl, and had few ad- 
 vantages of schooling or education. She 
 was not particularly quick in learning, 
 but she was nevertheless a very lovely 
 character, for she possessed " the ornament 
 of a meek and quiet spirit, which is, in 
 the sight of God. of great price." She 
 loved God's house and his word. On the 
 
 * Let me here beg of you, my dear children, 
 to remember this simple fact, that fire goes up- 
 wards ; so that a person standing upright is in 
 the position which will most feed the fire, li 
 your clothes should ever catch fire when you are 
 alone, throw yourself on the ground, and wrap 
 yourself up in the rug, or in any thing of woollen 
 which you can lay hold of : to run about, or rush 
 into the open air, is only to make the fire burn 
 the more fiercely. 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 5 
 
 last Sabbath she spent on earth a circum- 
 stance occurred which proved this: she 
 was going away the next clay, and she 
 had just got a new frock. Some one said 
 to her, "If I were you, Sarah, I would not 
 spend my last day at home in going to 
 school and church ; I would take my pleas- 
 ure with my new frock." She said, " As 
 it is my last Sunday, I should have much 
 more pleasure in going to church and to 
 school than in staying at home." 
 
 Now, my dear children, let us compare 
 her feelings about the Lord's day and the 
 Lord's house with the Scriptures. Read 
 Psalm 84:1, 2, 10: "How amiable arc 
 thy tabernacles, Lord of hosts! My 
 soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the 
 courts of the Lord; my heart and my 
 flesh criefh out for the living God. For 
 a day in thy courts is better than a thou- 
 sand. I had rather be a door-keeper in 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 the house of my God, than to dwell in the 
 tents of wickedness." Isaiah 58:13, 14: 
 "If thou turn away thy foot from the 
 Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my 
 holy day ; and call the Sabbath a delight, 
 the holy of the Lord, honorable ; and shalt 
 honor him, not doing- thine own ways, nor 
 finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking 
 thine own words: then shalt thou 
 light thyself in the Lord; and I will cause 
 thee to ride upon the high places of the 
 earth, and feed thee with the heritage of 
 Jacob thy father; for the mouth of the 
 Lord hath spoken it." 
 
 A similar circumstance happened in the 
 evening. As she was going to evening 
 service, some girls of her acquaintance 
 tried to persuade her to spend the even- 
 ing with them, instead of going to the 
 house of God ; but she steadily refused. 
 Thus her last Sabbath on earth was spent 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 7 
 
 as became one who looked forward to a 
 Sabbath in heaven — not because she knew 
 it to be her last Sabbath on earth, for 
 how could she foresee what was to hap- 
 pen ? but because she really preferred so 
 to spend it. 
 
 I have heard from her mother, that 
 whenever she had a moment of leisure, she 
 would spend it in reading some good book, 
 and especially her Bible; and she particu- 
 larly delighted in searching out proofs in 
 the Bible, although she was not a very 
 good reader, and was obliged to spell the 
 hard words. And she was so anxious to 
 learn her lesson for the Sunday-school, that 
 after a hard day's washing, when she was 
 sitting with her mother and sister at her 
 needle, she would keep her book before her 
 on her knee, that she might learn while 
 at her work. Her teacher told me, that 
 for some months past especially, she had 
 
8 THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 brought her many questions for explana- 
 tion, most of them relating to the Lord Je- 
 sus Christ, his person and his work. How 
 encouraging is it to teachers to see those 
 whom they desire to lead to the Saviour, 
 thus anxiously inquiring about him. When 
 our Saviour, at twelve years of age, was 
 m the temple among the doctors, he asked 
 them questions. Be like him, my children 
 and ask questions about the Bible, of your 
 minister and teachers. , 
 
 Sarah was a dutiful and industrious 
 child at home: she would not be five min- 
 utes idle, but would go to her mother 
 when she had finished her work, and sav 
 "Mother, what can I do next? How can 
 I help you? She was very neat in her 
 dress, and afraid of being too smart, and 
 she could not bear rude or loose conversa- 
 tion. I have heard of her refusing on this 
 account to keep company with one whom 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 9 
 
 she liked very much. I may mention one 
 thing more; she was a humble girl, and 
 willing to yield to others. Her teacher 
 told me, that if ever there was a dispute 
 in the class about places, she always found 
 that Sarah was the one to give way. 
 
 I will now give you a few particulars 
 about Sarah's death. When the accident 
 was known, many persons came in to see 
 her, but she begged to be left quiet. She 
 said, " Oh, mother, do not let so many peo- 
 ple come in ; I have been a great sinner, 
 and I want to think about my Saviour." 
 She was quite sensible that she should not 
 recover, and was exceedingly anxious that 
 her teacher, the superintendent of the 
 school, and her minister, should come and 
 see her. While Miss R , the superin- 
 tendent, was with her she was in great 
 suffering, and could not find rest in any 
 position. At one time she heard her mod- 
 
10 THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 itating aloud to herself in this way: "God 
 knows us all; God knows every thing; we 
 are great sinners ; God forgives sins through 
 his Son— only through his Son. Merciful 
 God, forgive me my sins; forgive us all 
 through thy beloved Son." 
 
 She joined most earnestly in the prayers 
 which I offered up, repeating them after 
 me ; and she also repeated all the texts of 
 Scripture which I began ; and when I had 
 ceased praying, she prayed with great sim- 
 plicity and earnestness for the pardon of 
 her sins, through the merits of Jesus. Oh 
 how thankful did I then feel that we had' 
 a Sunday-school, and that the poor sufferer 
 bad been taught in it the way of salvation. 
 She had not then, amidst the agonies of 
 her body and the terrors of approaching 
 death, to ask the all-important question, 
 "What must I do to be saved?" She 
 knew that Christ is the wav, the only way 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 11 
 
 whereby sinners can come to God. She 
 had, I believe, long sought him. She 
 sought him still ; nor did she seek him in 
 vain. 
 
 The accident happened on Thursday- 
 morning, and she lived till three o'clock on 
 Saturday morning. There was a marked 
 difference in her state of mind on the Fri- 
 day from that in which she was on the day 
 preceding. On Thursday she seemed to be 
 seeking Christ, with earnestness and sin- 
 gleness of mind, yet with doubt and anx- 
 iety. On Friday she was resting upon him 
 with calm, unhesitating confidence, and 
 never seemed to doubt his faithfulness to 
 his promises, nor her own interest in them. 
 Mark this, mv beloved children. Sarah 
 was what we may, in one sense, call a good 
 girl, and one more dear or more regretted 
 could not, I believe, have been removed 
 from the limited circle by which she was 
 
12 THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 intimately known; yet, had she in death 
 been leaning upon her own goodness, she 
 would have been most miserable. She ut- 
 terly rejected it; she utterly cast aside 
 every hope and every refuge save one, 
 even Jesus, who delivered us from the 
 wrath to come ; and, safe under his protec- 
 tion, she passed through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, and feared no evil. 
 
 On her death-bed she showed the great- 
 est anxiety about the souls of those whom 
 she loved ; indeed, no one can be truly anx- 
 ious about his own soul, without feeling 
 deeply concerned for those of others ; and 
 in the course of the preceding week, she 
 uttered a remark which made a deep im- 
 pression on the mind of her mother— 
 that it may prove a lasting and effectual 
 one. The mother and sisters were talking 
 together in the house, and their conversa° 
 tion turned upon religion, when Sarah 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 13 
 
 said to her mother, "0 mother, it is you 
 that ought to pray among us." Children, 
 what a blessing might you often be the 
 means of bringing into your own house, if 
 each of you tried thus to persuade your 
 parents to commence family prayers. 
 
 From the time the accident happened 
 to her, she made it a subject of earnest 
 prayer that she might live till her father 
 came home. Her father drove a wagon, 
 and it happened that it was the week for 
 his returning on Thursday evening. She 
 was always a most affectionate child; 
 and as soon as she saw him she lifted up 
 her poor arms, which were so dreadfully 
 -scorched that she could hardly bear to 
 have them touched, and put them round 
 his neck, and kissed him ; and she earnest- 
 ly prayed him to make haste and turn to 
 God. Her mother told me that she prayed 
 earnestly and particularly for her father 
 
14 THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 and mother, her brothers and sisters, her 
 friends and relations, that God would for- 
 give them for the sake of Him who shed 
 his precious blood upon the cross on Cal- 
 vary. 
 
 The night before her death, when her 
 father came in, she again put her arms 
 around his neck, and spoke to him solemn- 
 ly about his soul : << father, do pray, and 
 become a converted man, and follow me ; 
 and make haste." Afterwards she spoke 
 to her dear mother in the same strain 
 pressing upon them both the necessity of 
 making haste and turning to Christ, and 
 she repeated many texts to them ; one of 
 them her mother remembered: "Every 
 one that asketh, receivcth ; and he that 
 seeketh, fmdeth ; and to him that knocketh. 
 it shall be opened." Precious, encourag- 
 ing text! May you all, dear children, take 
 to yourselves the dying counsel of your 
 
THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 15 
 
 school-follow, and "make haste" to turn 
 to Christ ; and let this sweet promise be 
 your encouragement, " Every one that ask- 
 eth, receiveth." No one ever sought Je- 
 sus in vain. Now he is to be found ; now 
 he is near : seek him now, and the gracious 
 influences of his Spirit will be given to 
 you, to lead you in the ways of pleasant- 
 ness and peace. Whether you live, you 
 will live unto the Lord ; and whether you 
 die, you will die uuto the Lord. 
 
 Dear children, remember that this is not 
 a matter which can be put off ; not only 
 may sudden death deprive you eternally of 
 the blessed opportunity, but I am particu- 
 larly anxious to impress this truth upon 
 you, that every hour you live in an un- 
 converted state, you are doing the devil's 
 work, doing unspeakable mischief to oth- 
 ers, and adding fearfully to your own 
 guilt, and to your own eternal punishment. 
 
16 
 
 THE BURNT CHILD. 
 
 It is the greatest mistake for any one to 
 think that he is only injuring himself by 
 putting off repentance. Whose work were 
 those doing who endeavored to tempt 
 their dear school-fellow to spend the last 
 ■^ilibath of her life in sinful pleasure? 
 Were they not doing Satan's work? And 
 so every person who loves sin must needs 
 be a tempter to sin. Every one who hates 
 holiness will turn others, as far as his in- 
 fluence reaches, from holiness. Oh, then, 
 as you would dread the thought of being 
 the murderers, not of the bodies, but of 
 the unspeakably precious souls of those 
 nearest and dearest to you, turn now to 
 Christ, and yield yourselves living sacri- 
 fices to him who loved you, and gave him- 
 sejf for you.