A


PRESENT
FOR CHILDREN.
BY A LAYMAN.
PHILADELPHIA:
WM. F. GEDDES, PRINTER, FRANKLIN PLACE,
Back of 111 Chestnut St.
1856.





TABLE OF CONTENTS.
1. The Little Girl and the Lost Pocket Book,...................... 1
2. The Little Thief,............................;.......... 4
3. The Good Child at Home,..........................................4  5
4. The Undutiful Child,...............................................  5
5. The Good Child at School,.................................    8
6. The Choice of a Profession,................................... 10
7. Some Bad Habits of Boys: swearing; drinking,.............. 11
8. Intemperance,..................................................... 11
9. The Reformed Drunkard,........................................... 14
10. The Moderate Drinker,........................................... 14
11. Eleven Good Habits,.............................................   15
12. Habits of Reading and Study,...................................   16
13. Usefulness,.............................................. 16-19-25
14. The Two Great Objects of Life,................................. 19
15. History of Robert Raikes' Sunday School,.............. 20-22
16. Sunday Schools,............................................... 20-22
17. John Howard, the visitor of Prisons,............................. 22
18. The Tract Distributor,.............................................   23
19. Jack Raikes, the Sunday School Boy,.................... 23-31
20. The Story of the Converted Sailor,.................... 23-31





THE BRIGHT SIDE;
A STORY ABOUT A LITTLE GIRL.
AND A
LOST POCKET-BOOK.
"A gentleman jumping from an omnibus in the City
of New York, dropped his pocket-book, and had gone
some distance before he discovered his loss; then hastily
returning, he inquired of every passenger whom he met,
if a pocket-book had been seen?  Finally, meeting a
little girl, about ten years old, to whom he made the same
inquiry, she asked, 'What kind of a pocket-book?' He
described it. She then unfolded her apron and showed
him a pocket-book. 'Is this it?' Yes, that is mine;
come into this store with me. They entered; he counted
the notes, and examined the papers in the book. 'They
are all right,' said he, 'fifteen notes of a thousand dollars
each.' Had they fallen into other hands, I might never
have seen them again; take then, my little girl, this note,
as a reward for your honesty, and a lesson to me to be
more careful in future.' 'No,' said the girl, 'I cannot
take it, I have been taught at Sunday School not to keep
what is not mine, and my parents would not be pleased
if I took the money home. They might suppose I had
stolen it. 'Well then, my child, show me where your
parents live.' The girl took him to an humble house, in
an obscure street, rude, but cleanly;-he informed the





4
parents of the case. They told him their child had acted
correctly. They were poor, it is true; but their minister
had always told them not to set their hearts on riches.The gentleman insisted upon their taking the money, as
he was convinced they would make a good use of it.The pious parents then blessed their benefactor; they
paid the debts which had disturbed their peace, and the
benevolent giver furnished the father employment in his
occupation as a carpenter; enabling him to bring up an
industrious family in respectability. This little girl became the wife of a worthy tradesman in New York; and
had reason to rejoice that she was the child of pious parents, who had secured her happiness by sending her to
a Sunday School."
THE    DARK    SIDE.
One day when I was at the House of Refuge in Philadelphia, I saw among the inmates, a little girl, about
8 or 9 years of age. Now, how do you think she got
into such a place? I will tell you. A man who kept a
store near where this girl lived, put a large sum of money
in bank notes, on a shelf over his counter, and close to
a window. This little girl saw the money, and-would
you believe it?-she determined to steal it. So she
climbed upon some article of furniture, where she could
reach it, and she put her hand in, and took *away the
money. But she was found out, and sent to the House
of Refuge. Was she not a foolish, as well as a wicked,
little girl?
Now, children, you have seen the "BRIGHT SIDE" and
the "DARK SIDE,"-which do you like best? Would you
rather be the child that restored the money, or like the
one who stole the money? What made the good little
girl act as she did? Why, she had good advice given
to her, and she took it. Now, in this little book, I intend to give you some good advice. Will you take it?I hope you will.





5
THE GOOD CHILD AT HOME.
Good children 'at home try to behave so well
that every body will like them.   They are dutiful
and affectionate to their parents, or those with whom they
live, and who have the charge of them. When they are
told to do any thing they do not like, they do not look
sullen and cross, but th#r immediately obey.
I will tell you about4a little girl who spoke disrespectfully to her mother. She had been invited to a party of
young people, and expected to have a great deal of pleasure. All the afternoon she was impatiently waiting for
a new pair of red shoes, which she intended to wear to
the party. But now it was near night, and the shoes
had not come. Her mother was sick in bed, and she
asked her daughter to bring her a glass of water. Now
the disappointment about the new shoes made the little girl
feel very cross, and instead of going right off and bringing the water, she said, "I think you might ask the servant to bring it to you." What a shocking speech this
was for a girl to make to her sick mother! Her mother
thought so, for she said, "I think that my daughter
might bring her poor sick mother a glass of water."Well, the little girl went to the party; but do you think
she enjoyed herself any while there? No, indeed, she
was thinking all the time of her unkind behaviour to her
dear mother. When she returned home, she wanted to
go to her.mother's room and ask her to forgive her; but
she was told that she could not see her.  She went to bed
with a heavy heart, and passed a wretched night; and
was so glad when morning came; for now, she thought,
"'I shall run to my dear good mother who has been so
kind to me, and throw myself into her arms, and beg her
to forgive her bad child.?" Her aunt came into the room
--"Oh, aunt, how is mother to-day? Is she well?  I
do want to see her'so much!" But her aunt could not
look at the child; she walked to the window to hide
her face, and told the little girl to dress herself. Then
she took her by the hand, and led her to her mother's
room, and pointed to her mother's bed. The little gir1
ran to kiss her mother, and to beg her to forgive her for
1*





6


her cruel speech-but why does she start back, when she
looks on the bed? I will tell you, my children, what
makes her look so frightened and cry out in that dreadful manner. Her mother-that dear kind parent, who
had watched over and cared for her since she was a baby
-Oh, she was dead! Only her body was there! And
how keen was the anguish, how terrible the remorse of
that little girl, when she thought of the last words she
had spoken to her departed parent,--"I think you might
ask the servant to bring you a glass of water;" and her
mother looked sorrowful, and replied, "I think that my
daughter might bring her poor sick mother a glass of
water."  Do.you suppose that the little girl ever forgot
either of these remarks? Perhaps you will say, "Well,
it was dreadful, to be sure; and no doubt she felt tadly
for a long time; but I suppose, that when she grew up,
and went out into company, and had a good many things
to think of, why she forgot what she had said, and what
her mother replied;-or, any how, I suppose the remembrance did not trouble her much."  You shall see how
this was.
One afternoon, just as the sun was setting behind the
hills, a stage coach drove into the pretty little village of
M---. It stopped to let out the passengers, and one
by one, as they got out, they are received with joy by the
little groups of children, waiting before the door for
papa or mamma, or brother, or sister, to return home
from the great city, where the stage started from in the
morning. There still remained in the coach one passenger, a lady; she looked very thoughtful, indeed, as the
stage entered the village; for this was the home of her
childhood; and she had returned to pay it a visit after
many years absence. There was the old church where
she used to go to Sunday School, when she was a little
girl; and as the village chime struck six o'clock, the familiar sound of the bells made her think how many times
she had heard them strike the same hour, when she. was
coming home with other children from roaming in the
sweet green meadows that skirted her native village. She
remembered, too, how at this hour her dear kind mother
would meet her at the door, and gently chide her for





staging in the woods so late exposed to the dews of evening. As the passengers were joyfully received by the
children at the doors, she thought of the time when she
used to wait for her mother, when she expected her home
by the stage after she had been to visit her friends in the
city. At last this lady got out of the coach, and passed
through the village, seeing only strangers, where once
she knew almost every body she met. But where does
she wend her way? Ah, she enters the churchyard; she
seeks out a lowly grave, and throwing herself upon it in
an agony of tears, she exclaims, "My mother I Oh, my
mother I" Children, have you any idea who this lady is?
It is the little girl who said to her mother, "I think you
might ask the servant to bring you a glass of water."She has now grown up to be a woman, and many things
have happened to her since that hour in her mother's
sick room. She has encountered the usual vicissitudes
of human life; its temptations, its trials, and its sorrows
have been hers; and she has had her earthly blessings,
and her hours of pleasure; but never has she forgotten
that undutiful speech to her dear sick mother, and that
mother's gentle answer!
Now, children, let this story be a warning to you.Whenever you feel like speaking disrespectfully to your
parents, remember this little girl and all that she suffered,
Your parents may not die before you can ask forgiveness,
and say how sorry you are to have been so bad ibut
they mayjeave this world before you do,-and then how
bitterly you will regret having been disrespectful to themI
Or, if your parents should survive you, what a sad reflection it will be for you on your death-bed, that you
have not always treated those with kindness who have
been so kind to you. But, even if your father and mother are not so kind to you as you think they should be,
still you must be respectful to them.
Good children remember that their parents have had a
great deal of trouble with them when they were little, and
they try to do all that they can to help them. If they have
younger brothers or sisters, they are very kind to them,
allow them to have their playthings, and bear patiently
with them when they are cross and noisy. They take





pleasure in teaching the little ones how to read, and they
like to tell them stories about good children, so as to
make them good, too. They teach them to say their
rayers to their Heavenly Father, and teach them little
hymns. When sent on errands, they go cheerfully without pouting, as bad children are apt to do. In short,
they try to be useful in every way they can. They always learn their lessons for school, and take pleasure in
helping those who are younger to study theirs. They
always say their prayers when they go to bed, and when
they get up, they read the Bible every day, and ask God
to give them new hearts, and to make them good; so
that they can go to Heaven when they die.
THE GOOD CHILD AT SCHOOL.
Good children, whether at week day school, or at Sunday School, always go with their lessons learned; and
would be ashamed to say, when asked a question, "I do
not know." They do not play and trifle in school; for
they remember that their days of instruction will soon be
over, and therefore, they are determined to make the
most of them. If they happen to be late or absent from
school--which should never be the case when it can possibly be avoided--they tell the teacher what the reason
is, and are not so dishonorable as to tell lies, or to commit the sin of forgery, by writing notes professing to
come from their parents. They know that the teachers
have a very laborious and troublesome post; and, therefore, they would be ashamed to worry them, by not knowing their lessons or by any misbehaviour.
When new scholars come into the school, they do not
embarrass them by staring at, or whispering about
them. They will not quarrel with any of the children, but
if they know of any disputes among their school-fellows
they try to act the part of peace-makers.
When they are examined by the Directors, or others,
they are not ashamed nor afraid, to speak out plainly and
distinctly.
At school, boys should pay particular attention to those





9
rules of Arithmetic which they will always need to use
when they grow up.. Every boy should understand perfectly, the Single Rule of Three, calculations of Interest,
Equation of Payments, and have some knowledge of
Book Keeping. Every child should be able to answer
all the questions in that useful little book, "OONVERSATIONS ABOUT COMMON THINGS."
If children at school only knew the value of knowledge,
how hard they would try to inake the best of their school
days I Remember, that the measure of your usefulness
and respectability in society, will be very much dependent
upon the amount of your knowledge. Do you wish to
be esteemed in the world? Study hard. Do you wish
to serve your fellow-men? Study hard. Above all, do
you wish to serve God by extensive usefulness in your
generation? Study hard. But, remember, that knowledge. is not every thing. You must seek the blessing of
God by earnest prayer, every morning and night of your
life; read the Holy Scriptures, and ask of God a new
heart and a right spirit, that you may be justified and
sanctified through the redemption which is in Jesus
Christ, and by the power of the Holy Ghost.
Now with regard to people being sorry when they
grow up, that they did not make better use of their school
days, let me give you the advice of a very distinguished
man, Sir Walter Scott, who wrote so many books. He
says in his Autobiography:
"If it should ever fall to the lot of youth to peruse
these pages-let such a reader remember, that it is with
the deepest regret that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities of learning which I neglected in my youth;
that through every part of my literary career, I have felt
pinched and hampered by my own ignorance, and that I
would at this moment give half the reputation I have had
the good fortune to acquire, if by doing so I could rest
the remaining part upon a sound foundation of learning
and science."
Whatever may be your future condition in life, you
will find learning most valuable to you. And this reflection leads me to say a few words to boys about





10
THE    CHOICE     OF   A  PROFESSION.
Almost all boys must expect when they grow up, to
support themselves by their labour. Some will become
master mechanics, some journeymen mechanics, some day
labourers, some merchants, some doctors, some teachers,
some lawyers, and some will give themselves entirely up
to doing good, and will become ministers of religion.What will be your profession, should depend upon a number of considerations which cannot be anticipated here.
Much will depend upon your natural capacity,-whether
you are quick or dull;-much upon the amount of the
knowledge you have acquired. And then your parents
must decide this point for you, and it is to be supposed
that they will consult your natural aptitude for one thing
or another, and advise you accordingly. Only you must
remember this, that it is a foolish notion to suppose that
any honest profession is not as respectable as any dther.
The man who makes the coat or the boots of the richest
and most distinnguished man in the world, is just as respectable as the man who wears the coat or the boots,
so far as the profession of the working man is concerned.
If the working man be an honest, religious man, and the
rich man be a dishonest, a profane, or an irreligious man,
then the working man is as much better than the rich
man, as good is better than bad. Always remember,
then, that it is a man's conduct, not his situation in life,
which makes him respectable, or not respectable.
"Honour and shame from no condition rise.
Act well your part, there all the honour lies."
As a general rule, a person should persevere in the
profession which he has selected. Many are discouraged
because they do not succeed at once. An old gentleman
of great experience and observation, once said, that if a
person would stick to any business, as a general thing he
would do well.





11
A FEW WORDS TO BOYS RESPECTING SOME
BAD HABITS.
And now I must notice some bad habits which boys
often fall into, but which I hope all my readers will most
carefully avoid.
1st. Swearing. This is a most disgraceful habit, and
yet I am sorry to say there are some boys who practise
it. They have an idea that it sounds manly to swear;
but how much they are mistaken! Suppose that a merchant or a mechanic wanted a boy in his workshop or
store. Passing by a corner, he observes two boys stand.
ing there talking. Before he approaches them he says to
himself-"There are two smart looking boys. I think I
will ask one of them if he would like to enter into my
employ." As he comes near the boys he hears one whom
we shall call Ned, utter an oath; the other, William, reproves his companion for swearing, and tells him that it
is a very wicked, as well as a very foolish practice. Have
you any doubt which of these two boys would get the
chance of obtaining this good situation? Of course,
the boy who swore will not get it. Now this sin, perhaps, seemed a very trifling thing to Nec. But it was no
trifle; for by it he has perhaps failed to get a situation
which would have proved the stepping stone to prosperity and usefulness. How little do profane people remember, when they are pouring out such dreadful oaths, that
God hears them, and will call them to account for their
profanity, on the Day of Judgment. I need hardly tell
you that neither boys nor girls should ever be seen at the
theatre or the circus, or any other bad place.
Another vice which is the cause of more wickedness
and misery in the world than any other, I must warn you
against. I mean INTEMPERANCE. You have seen a drunk.
ard in the street, with bad boys following him, and making fun of him. Now what is it that has made him this
melancholy object of pity and contempt? You know
very well,-it is "DRINKING."  What is it that fills our
almshouses and prisons with paupers and criminals?DRINKING. What is it that makes people quarrel with





12
and sometimes murder their fellow-beings? DRIN:KINc
That very wise man, Lord Bacon, says-"All the crimes
on earth do not destroy so many of the human race, nor
alienate so much property, as drunkenness." It is this
vice which keeps so many people poor and miserable all
the days of their lives. In Great Britain they have to
support 3,000,000 of poor people, besides helping many
others of the lower classes; and yet it is estimated that
the poor people there spend $200,000,000 every year in
intoxicating drinks. If these people would spend their
money in clothes, and food, and house-rent, instead of
throwing it away at the taverns, they would be to a great
extent independent and prosperous. The whole cost of
intoxicating liquors in Great Britain is estimated to be
$750,000,000. But we feel more particularly interested
in our own country. Well, let me tell you what intemperance does for us in the United States. One of our
most distinguished statesmen, the Hon. Edward Everett,
tells us what the use of intoxicating liquors has done for
us in ten years. "1. It has cost the nation a direct expenditure of 600,000,000 of dollars. 2. It has cost the
nation an indirect expense of 600,000,000 of dollars.3. It has destroyed 300,000 lives. 4. It has sent 100,000 children to the poor-house. 5. It has consigned at
least 150,000 to the jails and penitentiaries. 6. It has
made at least 1,000 maniacs. T. It has instigated to the
commission of 1,500 murders. 8. It has caused 2,000
persons to commit suicide. 9. It has burned, or otherwise destroyed property to the amount of 10,000,000 of
dollars. 10. It has made 200,000 widows, and 100,000
orphan children."  Judge Grier remarks: "It is not necessary to array the appalling statistics of misery, pauperism and crime, which have their origin in the use and
abuse of ardent spirits."  It is estimated that at this day,
intoxicating liquors cost the State of Pennsylvania
40,000,000, and the United States 150,000,000, of dollars,
every year, and for the city of Philadelphia, alone, the
outlay is estimated at 4,000,000 of dollars. Of 5,199
persons received into the Blockley Almshouse in one
year, 2,323 were drunk when received. Of 11,000 committed to the Philadelphia County Prison in one year,
10,150 were sent there by liquor.





13


"Go view the prisoners' gloomy cells;
Their sin and misery scan;
Gaze, gaze upon these earthly hells;In drink their woe began.
Of yonder children bathed in tears,
Ask why is mother poor?
They'll whisper in thy startled ears--
'Twas father's one glass more."
It has been well said that,
"If you seek to prevent your friends raising you in the
world, be a Drunkard, for that will defeat all their efforts.
If you would effectually counteract your own attempts
to do well, be a Drunkard, and you will not be disappointed.
If you wish t4 repel the endeavours of the whole human
race to raise you to character, credit, and prosperity, be
a Drunkard, and you will most assuredly triumph.
If you mean to ruin your soul, be a Drunkard, that
you may be excluded from Heaven.
Finally, if you are determined to be utterly destroyed,
in estate, body, and soul, be a drunkard, and you will
soon know that it is impossible to adopt a more effectual
means to your end." From the Rewards of Drunkenness, an excellent Tract, published by the American"
Tract Society.
You will say, "this is dreadful, indeed! But do you
know of any means by which I may be certain that I
shall never be a drunkard?"  Yes, I do. I know of one
prescription that has never once failed. It is this:TOTAL ABSTINENCE. That boy who determines, and keeps
his resolution, never to taste any intoxicating drink, can
never become a drunkard. Many men say that, although
they drink now and then, yet they shall never become
drunkards. But remember, that of the 50,000 drunkards
who die in the United States every year, not one of them
intended to be a drunkard! Almost every boy's father
can tell him of acquaintances of his, who were once respectable young men, prosperous and esteemed in the
world, who, because they would drink a little, have got
into the habit of drinking.a great deal, and have either
died inebriates or are now in the jails, or almshouse, or
drunk about the streets. Ask your father if he do not
2





14
know of such persons. When you grow up, you ought
to endeavor to reform such poor miserable beings, for
some have been reformed. Let me tell you a story of a
moderate' drinker, who became a drunkard, and of a
drunkard who became a sober man.
"On an extremely cold night, shivering by the stove
in a grog-shop in Cincinnati, sat a young man about 25
years of age, (although he appeared much older,) who
was evidently the victim of a depraved appetite. His
eye, though swollen and bloodshot, had not entirely lost
the power of its expression, and a careful observer could
discover that he once possessed a bright intellect and a
commanding genius. He gazed on vacincy; reflecting
perhaps, upon the misery he had brought upon himself
and relatives by his dissipation. He was thinly clad,
and seemed to be labouring under some horrible sensation.
Those who came and went, looked with disgust upon
him, and then passed on their way. At length one entered who was acquainted with the young man; and after
looking at him for a moment, turned upon his heel, and
said to the bar-tender, 'Brown, why do you let such
loafers as that sit here, to the annoyance of respectable
people?' This last speaker, whom we will call Somers,
was also young, respectably clad,and belonged to the same
mechanical business as did the one whom he was pleased
to term 'loafer.' He was a moderate drinker, the other a
drunkard. The bar-tender replied, 'I have told him a
number of times to keep away from the place, and I'm
determined, that if he comes here again drunk, I will
send him head and heels into the street., This rebuke
cut poor William H--     (for this was his name,) to
the very quick. He was not so drunk, that he could not
hear and understand, nor had rum entirely obliterated
that manly pride which once burnt brightly within his
bosom. He rose and left the place to go-he knew not
whither. Two years passed away, and William H-----~
had become a Washingtonian, and a highly respectable
member of society, surrounded by innumerable friends,
who placed the most implicit confidence in his integrity
as a man and a citizen, and he was succeeding well in
busipa    One morning, as he took up the daily paper,





5
his eye fell upon that department devoted to Coroner's
Inquests, and to his utter astonishment and grief he read
'that George Somers had died on the previous day at the
almshouse, from the effects of intemperance."
We ought never to despair of the reformation of any
drunkard, or of the conversion of those who are not good;
and by personal persuasion, by giving them books and
tracts to read, and praying for them, we should strive to
benefit them. Let it be your ambition, indeed, to be a
useful citizen in every way that you can. Then you will
be respected while you live, and lamented when you die.
There is another habit which I would earnestly advise
you to abstain from, and that is the use of Tobacco. To
most persons it is very injurious, introducing nervous derangement, and often shortening life; and in almost all
cases it is useless. Besides, it is a very expensive habit:
25 cents a day for tobacco, or cigars, amounts to more
than $90 in a year, which in 20 years makes $1,800,
which might have been expended in charity, or laid up to
make old age comfortable.
In concluding this chapter on bad habits, let me urge
you to the adoption of good habits. Read these rules
over at least once every week.
1. Always speak the truth.
2. Always be honest, even to the value of a pin.
3. Whatever is to be done, do it immediately.
4. Never omit an opportunity of doing good.
5. Read a chapter in the Bible every day.
6. Never omit going to church on Sunday, at least.
T. Morning and evening pray to God for a new heart,
and a right spirit. Say this as one of your prayers:
"Give me a new heart, and pity take,
And save my soul for Jesus's sake!"
8. Endeavor to reform the vicious, and instruct the
ignorant, and when old enough, take a class in the Sunday School.
9. Always be kind, cheerful and polite to every body.
10. Try to perform at least one good action every day
of your life.
11. Remember the Day of Judgment, to which every
hour brings you nearer.





HABITS OF READING AND STUDY:
USEFULNESS.
A taste for reading and study is a great blessing to, any
young person. By reading, you can avail yourselves of
the wisdom of the wisest men in all ages. Great natural
genius is worth little without education. Suppose the
case of an American Indian, with the genius of a Cicero,
a Shakspeare, or a Bacon. You see at once that without the knowledge which books can teach him, his superior genius can do no more than enable him to rule his
tribe discreetly, or make a better boat or tomahawk than
his fellow Indians can fashion. If you wish to be useful
and respected, you must read a great deal. Doubtless,
you have been present, when some person was ignorant
of something in the newspapers, which the others were
all interested in talking about. Did you not see how
awkward was the situation of the ignorant person? No
one applied to him for information, and nobody had time
to answer his questions. Now, as a newspaper is an account of the events of a portion of the world for a day,
so is History, the narration of the events of the world
for many centuries. If you allow yourself to grow up
ignorant of what has happened in your own country, and
in other parts of the world, you may expect to be continually mortified by your want of knowledge.
Study thoroughly the history of the United States, of
England, of France, and other parts of the globe.Have a good biographical dictionary, and read about the
lives of distinguished men. Let one of your favorite
plans be the formation of a library. Add book to book,
and keep the volumes together. Then your friends when
they wish to make you a present, will see how they can
gratify you, and you will be surprised to find your library
growing so large. Do not think that because you have
but few books now, there is no use in your trying to form
a library. The library will grow fast when once the
foundation is well laid, and a plan of enlargement formed. I am writing this little book in a large library, surrounded by thousands of volumes; but I have before me
the first book I remember to have owned when a boy.





1I
Do not deceive yourself by saying that you have no
time for Study. If you have the disposition, you will find
the time. Do you not always find time to go to any exhibition you wish to visit, or to read an interesting story
book? Perhaps you say that you might save half an
hour a day for reading, but what can be done in so short
a time? I will tell you. Half an hour a day, is 1821
hours a year, which are more than 18 days of ten hours
each. How many books you could read in that -time!Let system and perseverance be your motto, and you will
be amazed to find how much good you can get from spare
moments, which you have hitherto wasted in idleness or
unprofitable conversation.
I will give you some instances of the results of perseverance, as illustrated in the histories of some distinguished persons.
BisHOP PRIDEAUX, who made himself so celebrated by
his learning, was the son of parents so poor that "they
were with difficulty able to keep him at school till he had
learned to read and write; and he obtained the rest of
his education by walking on foot to Oxford, and getting
employed in the first instance as assistant in the kitchen
at Exeter College, in which society he remained till he
gradually made his way to a Fellowship. The father of INIGO JONES, the great architect, who built the Banqueting
House at Whitehall, and many other well-known edifices,
was a cloth-worker; and he himself was also destined
originally for a mechanical employment.  SIR EDMUND
SAUNDERS, Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench
in the reign of Charles II, was in early life an errandboy at the inns of Court, and gradually acquired the elements of his knowledge of the law by being employed to
copy the precedents. LINNAEUS, the founder of the science of Botany, although the son of the clergyman of a
small village in Sweden, was for some time apprenticed
to a shoemaker; and was only rescued from his humble
employment by accidentally meeting one day a physician,
named Rotham, who was so much struck by his intelligent conversation, that he sent him to the University.The father of MICHAEL EIEMONOSOFF, one of the most
celebrated Russian poets of the last century, and who
2*





18
eventually attained the highest literary dignities in his
own country, was only a simple fisherman. Young Lemonosoff had great difficulty in acquiring as much education as to enable him to read and write; and it was
only by running away from his father's house, and taking
refuge in a monastery at Moscow, that he found means
to obtain an acquaintance with the higher branches of
literature. The famous BEN JONSON worked for some
time as a brick-layer, or mason, and "let them not blush,"
says Fuller, speaking of this circumstance in his "English Worthies," with his usual amusing, but often expressive quaintness-"let them not blush that have, but
those have not, a lawful calling. He helped in the building of the new structure of Lincoln's Inn, when having
a trowel in his hand, he had a book in his pocket."PETER RAMUS, one of the most celebrated writers of the
16th century, was employed in his childhood as a shepherd, and obtained his education by serving as a lackey
in the college of Navarre. The Danish Astronomer,
Longomontanus, was the son of a laborer, and while attending the academical lectures of Wyburg through the
day, was obliged to work for his support during a part
of the night. The elder DAVID PAREUS, the eminent
German Protestant Divine, who was afterwards Professor
of Theology at Heidleberg, was placed in his youth as
an apprentice, first with an apothecary, and then with a
shoemaker. HANS SACH, one of the most famous of the
early German poets, and a scholar of considerable learning, was the son of a tailor, and served an apprenticeship
himself, first to a shoemaker, and afterwards to a weaver,
at which last trade, indeed, he continued to work during
the rest of his life. JOHN FOLOZ, another old German
poet, was a barber. DR. ISAAC MADDOX, who, in the
reign of George II, became Bishop first of St. Asaph,
and then of Worcester, and who is well known by his
work in defence of the doctrine and discipline of the
Church of England, lost both his parents, who belonged
to a very humble rank of life, at an early age, and was
in the first instance placed by his friends with a pastry
cook. The late DR. ISAAC MILNER, Dean of Carlisle and
Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge, who





19
had the reputation of being one of the first mathematicians of that University, and who published some ingenious papers oin Chemistry and Natural Philosophy in
the Philosophical Transactions, was originally a weaver,
as was also his brother Joseph, the well known author of
a 'History of the Church.' Of the same profession was
also, in his younger days, the late DR. JOSEPH WHITE,
Professor of. Arabic at Oxford. CASSERIO, a well known
Italian Anatomist, was initiated into the elements of
medical science by a surgeon of Padua, with whom he
had lived originally as a domestic servant. JOHN CHRISTIAN THEDEN, who rose to be Chief Surgeon to the Prussian army under Frederick II, had in his youth been apprenticed to a tailor."  (Pursuit of knowledge under
difficulties.)
You are, or ought to be, familiar with the history of
Franklin's early struggles, and the results of his persevering industry. When he visited Great Britain as Ambassador from the United States, he sought the printing
office where he had labored when an humble mechanic.
Conceive of the astonishment of the printers at seeing
this dignified personage make his way to a particular
press where two men were at work, and pointing to it,
remark, "My friends, it is now forty years since I worked
like you at this press, as a journeyman printer."
Let me again remind you that your great object in life
should be
1. To MAKE PREPARATION FOR ETERNITY.
2. To DO GOOD TO YOUR FELLOW MEN.
As illusttious instances of "doing good," let me point
you to the examples of Robert Raikes, the inventor of
the modern Sunday School system, and John Howard,
the self-denying alleviator of the miseries of prisons. I
copy from a letter of Mr. Raikes, an account of his first
attempts at the establishment of a system which now
numbers its hundreds of thousands of teachers and millions of children.





20


Gloucester, England, Nov., 25 1784,
" The beginning of this scheme was entirely owing to
accident. Some business leading me one morning into
the suburbs of the city, where the lowest of the people
(who are principally employed in the pin manufactory)
chiefly reside, I was struck with concern at seeing a
group of children, wretchedly ragged, at play in the
street. I asked an inhabitant whether those children
belonged to that part of the town, and lamented their
misery and idleness. ' Ah, sir,' said the woman to whom
I was speaking, could you take a view of this place on
a Sunday, you would be shocked indeed, for then the
street is filled with multitudes of these wretches, who released on that day from employment, spend their time
in noise and riot, playing at chuck, and cursing and
swearing in a manner so horrid, as to convey to any
serious mind an idea of hell rather than any other place.
We have a worthy clergyman, said she, the curate of our
parish, who has put some of them to school; but upon
the Sabbath they are all given up to follow their
inclinations Without restraint, as their parents, totally
abandoned themselves, 'have no idea of instilling into
the minds of their children principles to which they
themselves are entire strangers.  This conversation
suggested to me that, it would be at least a harmless attempt, if it were productive of no good, should some
little plan be formed to check this deplorable profanation
of the Sabbath. I then enquired of the woman if there
were any decent well disposed women in the neighborhood
who kept schools for teaching to read. I presently was
directed to four; to these I applied, and made an agreement with them to receive as many children as I should
send them upon the Sunday, whom they were to instruct
in reading, and in the Church catechism. For this I
engaged to pay each a shilling for their day's employment.
The women seemed pleased with the proposal. I then
waited on the clergyman before mentioned, and imparted
to him my plan. He was so much satisfied with the idea,
that he engaged to lend his assistance by going round
to the schools on a Sunday afternoon to examine the
progress that was made, and to enforce order and





21
decorum among such a set of little heathens. This, sir,
was the commencement of the plan. It is now about
three years since we began, and I could wish you were
here to make inquiry into the effect. A woman who
lives in a lane where I had fixed a school, told me some
time ago, that the place was quite a Heaven upon Sundays, compared to what it used to be. The numbers
who have learned to read and say their catechism are so
great, that I am astonished at it. Upon the Sunday afternoons, the mistresses take their scholars to church, a
place in which neither they nor their ancestors had ever
before entered, with a view to the glory of God. But
what is yet more extraordinary, within this month, these
little ragamuffins have in great numbers taken it into
their heads to frequent the early morning prayers, which
are held every morning at the cathedral at seven o'clock.
I believe there were near forty this morning. They
assemble at the house of one. of the mistresses, and walk
before her to church, two and two, in as much order as
a company of soldiers. I am generally at church, and
after service they all come around me to make their bow;
and, if any animosities have arisen, to make complaints."
"This letter we copy from the Gentleman's Magazine
London 1784; and the editor remarks, " It is with
pleasure we give place to this benevolent plan, which
promises fair to transmit the name of Mr. Raikes to
latest posterity." Mr. Raikes lived 27 years after he
had thus established Sunday Schools. He had the satisfaction to seehis excellent institution extensively copied,
and when he died in 1811, it was remarked that by means
of Sunday Schools, "where riot and disorder were formerly to be seen, decency and decorum are now to be
found; industry has taken the place of idleness and profaneness has been obliged to give way to devotion."
Towards the close of Mr. Raikes's life, as he was
entering church one week day, he met a soldier on the
steps, who was also going to church. Mr. R. remarked: " I am glad, my friend, to see you coming to
church. SOLDIER, "I may thank you for that, sir"
"Thank me? How so?" SOLDIER. "Why sir, I was one
of the wicked boys whom you took out of the streets,





22
and put to Sunday School. I have never forgotten what
I there learned, and I always attend church when I can."
Was not this one interview a sufficient reward to this
good min for all his trouble? Now remember that it
will be your duty, also, when old enough, to instruct the
ignorant, to rebuke the profane and to reclaim the vicious.
How many children are there at this day growing up in
ignorance and vice because they have no teachers. It is
a great sin to refuse to teach them. See that you be
not guilty of it: and if done with the right motives
through the impulses of a saving faith, great shall be
your reward in Heaven.
John Howard was a gentlemen of handsome fortune,
and extremely fond of the beauties of rural scenery which
surrounded his dwelling. But he felt that life was not
given to him for selfish ease and luxurious idleness.
" After inspecting the receptacles of crime and poverty
the prisons in Great Britain and Ireland, he left his native
country, relinquished his own ease to visit the wretched
abodes of those who were in want and bound in fetters
of iron in other parts of the world. He travelled three
times through France, four through Germany, five through
Holland, twice through Italy, once through Spain and
Portugal, and also through Denmark, Sweeden, Russia, and part of Turkey. These occupied (with some
short intervals of rest at home) the period of twelve
years. Never before was such a considerable portion of
the life of man applied to a more benevolent and laudable
purpose. He gave up his own comfort that he might
bestow it upon others. He was often immured in prison
that others might be set at liberty.. He exposed himself
to danger that he might free others from it. He visited
the gloomy cell that he might inspire a ray of hope and
joy in the breasts of the wretched. Yea, he not only
lived, but died in the noble cause of benevolence; for in
visiting a young lady who lay dangerously ill of an epidemic fever [at Cherson, on the Black Sea,] in order to
administer relief, he caught the distemper, and fell a
victim to his humanity, January 20th, 1790."
You, my young friend, can never tell how much good
a very little effort may result in. One day a gentleman





23
in passing through St. James's Park, in London, met a
young man and gave him a tract entitled 'The Great
Question Answered.' The young man was much impressed by it. He had great wealth and influence. He
felt it his duty to get up schools for the religious
education of children, he did so; and some time afterwards,
through his efforts and those disposed to aid him, 100,000
children were placed under instruction. So in every
way, should every boy and girl, every man and woman,
try to do good; for, as was well said by a good man,
"A man's life is to be measured by its usefulness."
He who does three good actions in a day, where another
does only one, lives three useful years to the other's one.
We conclude with a striking illustration of the benefit
of Sunday School instruction, recently published by the
American Sunday School Union for only a cent a copy.
Do buy some and distribute them.
"As we drew near the end of our voyage from the
West Indies, the weather became squally, with a heavy
sea, which made things very uncomfortable on board.
A sailor, who had behaved very ill at the outset of the
voyage, and with whom the men had declined keeping
company, had been seized with the fever, and the poor
fellow was in a very dangerous state, He had been a
wicked man; and now that he was apparently drawing
near to death, it was desirable that some care and kindness might be shown him in regard to his soul. The
captain and crew were very indifferent upon the subject;
and I had been so ill, that I was scarcely able to get out
of my berth. There happened, however to be a boy on
board, who went among the sailors by the nick name of
Pious Jack; or what was, perhaps equally to his honour,
or to the honour, of the philanthropist from whom he
derived it, they used to call him   'Jack Raikes,'
from  his having been educated in one of the Sunday Schools of " Robert Raikes, of Glos'ter;"! of
which city, the boy John Pelham was a native. Poor
Jack, however, cared very little for the sneers and scoffs
of the seamen, and the meekness, patience and temper
with which he endured the gibes and jeers of many on
board, often gave me occasion to say, "Out of the





24
mouths of babes and sucklings Thou hast ordained
strength, that Thou mighest still the enemy."
When Williams, the poor sailor, was dying, and, indeed, all the time he had been ill, nobody had shown him
any kindness except pious Jack and a negro woman who
was on board; the attendant of a child, whom she waa
bringing over to some relations in England. This woman, who was always called Cleo, ministered to the wants
of the dying seaman, nursing him with great tenderness,
and preparing with her own hands whatever she thought
would be likely to tempt his sickly appetite. The little
Creole whom Cleo had in charge was a sweet child about
four years old. I saw her very seldom, for she generally
amused herself on deck when the weather could permit,
playing with a pet kid which had been spared for her
sake, and which followed-her wherever she went. She
had taught it to go up and down the companion ladder;
and she would bring it in her arms into my cabin almost
every morning, when she came to ask me how I did.
This excellent negress was kind and attentive to the sick
and young, for we had two or three of both on board;
and though she had little idea of the profounder doctrines
of Christianity, she yet possessed some knowledge of the
truth, and she had a deep sympathy for the soul of the
dying man. She could not read herself, but she knew
that the Bible revealed the Christian's God, and taught
the way to heaven; and she would sit with devout attention, listening to every word which the dear boy Jack
read from that holy book, not only from day to day, but
whenever he could persuade Williams to hearken to it.
Things had gone on this way for some time, when one
day Jack came into my cabin, his face bathed in tears, a
look of horror on his countenance, his whole frame trembling with agitation, and himself unable to speak. I
thought from his appearance that poor Williams was
dead, and that he had left poor Jack "no hope in his
death."
" What's the matter Jack?"  I said, starting upon my
elbow in bed, What has happened?   Williams-is he
dead"?





25


"Dear sir" said the boy, regardless of my question,
"Williams-poor Williams! He is in agony of soul;
he says he is lost-that he is a ruined sinner-that he
must, sir,-he must-oh! I cannot say the word-he says
God will cast him into the place," continued Jack, in a
burst of inexpressible anguish, where there is weeping
and gnashing of teeth-Oh, what shall I say to him?"
"Dear boy," I said, "do not afflict your soul so bitterly. It is well that Williams feels all this; take it, my
child, as a token for good from the hand of your heavenly. Father, who is not unmindful of your prayers and
labours of love for this trembling penitent. Go to him
again; bid him call upon his God. lie has said call
upon me in the time of trouble, and I will deliver thee.
Tell him that God is, indeed, as he believes Him to be,
a just God, who will by no means clear the guilty without
an atonement; bid him believe in the blood of that atonement already made for the sins of many; tell him God
can be just, even.while he paMons all his sins, if he
throws himself upon his mercy in Christ Jesus. Say to
him, it is not too late to believe-neither is it too late
for God to have mercy; only let him seek repentance at
the throne of grace, and by faith in that blood that
cleanseth from all sin. Oh say to him God waiteth to
be gracious."
"Sir" replied Jack, I have told him all this already;
but he says he cannot believe it. He says everybody's
sins are forgiven but his, I have told him the history of
the thief on the cross-of the labourer called at the
eleventh hour-of the lost sheep-and all the parables
about God's love to sinners-and how Christ came into
the world on purpose to save sinners even the chief.
But he says, he cannot believe it; and he will not pray.
"Nevertheless, go to him again, my dear, good boy;
read to him, and I will come and pray with him." This
I said, not knowing that the boy was able of himself to
pray for another.
I rose with difficulty, and found my way into the place
where Williams was sitting up in his hammock, his face
pale and ghastly, his eyes sunk in his forehead, and his
bosom labouring with the heavy respiration of Aeath.
3





26


Jack and Cleo were both on their knees beside his berth;
and the little child, not well knowing the meaning of
what she did, had covered her face with her hand, but
she was evidently looking through her half closed eyelids.
Jack was reading the office for the sick; Williams, deeply
agitated, his hands clasped, and his emaciated fingers
convulsively pressed against each other, was now and
then attempting to pray. After every petition the little
sailor boy paused for the dying man's response, saying,
he would read no further if Williams still refused to pray
to God.
"Open thine eye of mercy, 0 most gracious God!" said
the boy at last, closing the book, and speaking, I suppose from memory, or perhaps out of the abundance of
his own heart, " Open thine eye of mercy upon this dying
man, who most earnestly desireth pardon and forgiveness,
but will not pray for it."
"Oh, earnestly" exclaimed the wretched man, with a
voice so full of the biftrness of death, that it sent back
the blood in a cold shiver to my heart. " Renew in him
most loving Father," continued the little intercessor,
"whatsoever hath been decayed by the fraud or malice
of the devil, or by his own carnal will. Oh! impute
not unto him the guilt of his former sinS."
The boy here paused again, and looked with an eye
of supplication upon Williams, beseeching him, as if
with the whole tenderness of his soul, to reiterate the
petition; but Williams replied only with a look of
horror.
" For the sake of Christ," resumed the little suppliant,
"who bore our sins in his own body upon the cross, show
thy pity on Harry Williams."'
The boy again paused, and taking the hand of Williams, attempted by an act of kind compulsion, to raise
it into an atittude of supplication.
"He has no hope, 0 Lord, but in thy sweet mercy.
0 visit him with thy benign salvation."
" I have no hope I" at last exclaimed the man, wringing his hands in despair, " I have no hope!"
"0 Lord, look down from the height of thy sanctuary,
and hear the groaning of this poor prisoner and loose
him who seemeth now to be appointed unto death 1"





"Oh, I am appointed unto death.'
"0 Lord! wilt thou not regard the cry of the desti.
tute!  Behold he is destitute. We can do nothing to
help him. Help thou him, 0 our God P"
" Help me, 0 my God!"
"0 Lord, save! save this poor dying man. Oh,
save Harry Williams I"
"Lord, save Harry Williams!" was uttered by all
present, even by the little child; and Williams, softened
by their affectionate sympathy, and doubtless also by the
power of that word which is both spirit and life, melted
into tenderness, and falling back on his pillow, shed a
torrent of tears.  *  *    *     *    *    *    *
I did not see him again for many days after this, my
own indisposition having increased, but I heard of him
often, both from Jack and the negro woman. Every
moment the boy could spare from the duties of his station
on board, was occupied in reading the Scriptures to
Williams, who was now often seen engaged in prayer
for himself; and he began by degrees to talk less of the
justice of God, a subject which had always filled him
with alarm, and more of his love.
After a few days, being considerably better, I told
Jack I would see Williams to-morrow; Cleo, however,
said she thought Williams was now too near his end for
me to delay my visit. I therefore arose in the evening
and went again to his berth. The horror, so strongly
marked in every feature the first time I saw him, had
dwelt upon my mind;and on entering the little place
where he was lying in his cot, I dreaded the idea of
looking on him. But how sweet was my surprise when I
beheld in poor-no, in happy-Williams, a countenance
of the most touching complacency, and of a placidity so
soft, that one would have thought that death, which was
evidently upon the very threshold, was the object, not of
fear, but of long desired appr.ach. He had suffered
much in the interval between my former visit and this,
from many doubts and fears; but now they seemed to
have been all subdued; and he said to me with the
triumph of one deeply conscious to whom the glory was
due, "I am a conqueror through Him that loved me I-...
Oh I that wonderful love.'"





28


I spoke to him for some time of the grounds on
which he built his hopes, and was much satisfied with
all he said in reply. He heard ime with all the attention
and courtesy which the subject demanded; but he
seemed as if he thought-so grateful was he-that he
wronged his young friend in deriving consolation from
any one's conversation but his. Every word the boy
now uttered was as much a source of joy to Williams, as
it had formerly been of horror. He said to him, two
or three times that night, referring to the struggle he
had had in the morning, "It is calm now, Jack-all
calm. Is this peace?"
"Yes," replied he, "I trust it is peace, the peace of
God, which, the Bible says, passeth all understanding."
" Who has given me this peace?" said Williams,-as
if he delighted in the ascription of praise to his Divine
Redeemer-" Who has given me this peace?"
" CHRIST said the boy, in a voice so solemn and so
soft, that it seemed like the breathing of some ministering angel, rather than the articulation of a human voice
-" Christ is our peace; he hath made peace for us."
"Yes," said Williams" by the blood of his cross!'1
Whether it was that the near presence of death naturally tends to unnerve us, or that my spirits were weak
from long confinement, I cannot tell, but I felt compelled
at this moment to steal away, to hide the emotions
gathering around my heart, which I was unable any longer
to repress. I lay awake all night, meditating on the
things I had seen and heard in poor Harry's berth.
No sound disturbed the repose of all on board, except
the man at the helm, as he chanted from time to time,
some doleful ditty. In the midst of this calm the spirit
of Harry Williams winged its flight aloft, entering into
the presence of Him whom the heaven of heavens cannot
contain, and mingling with the thousand thousands of
ministering spirits, wlEh "thick as stars, surround
Him!"  The next day but one, the body of Williams
was committed to the deep. The poor boy on this occasion seemed to feel, as if for the first time that his
friend and pupil was indeed no more I But when he heard
the heavy plunge of the corpse into the water,-when
he saw the waves close over the body, and shut up, in





29
their deep abyss, all that remained of dear Harry Williams,-the boy unable any longer to control the violence
of his feelings, uttered a piercing cry, and, so infectious
is unfeigned sorrow, that many an iron countenance,
that gave little indication of a kind heart within, was
that day bedewed with tears.  *  *  *
The wind being somewhat abated, in the course of the
fourth day from our leaving the channel we made the
Frith of Forth, and came to an anchor. But the storm,
which during the last two or three hours had sudsided
into a sullen calm, burst out again towards sunset with
tremendous fury, and driving us from our moorings, it
carried us among the islands of the Frith. At half past
eleven o'clock, in the absence of moon and stars, and
amid cries of "breakers ahead!" we struck upon a sunken
rock, the mainmast coming down with a fearful crash!
In the midst of all this outward misery and distress, I
felt a keener edge to my own sufferings, by witnessing
the affliction of the affectionate negress, and the anguish
with which she gazed upon her "Massa's child."   Her
own fate she seemed to meet with heroic firmness-sustained, I hope, by her confidence in God and her trust in
the Redeemer. "But Massa's child-my Missus' little
girl!"-she wrnng her hands over her in unutterable
agony! Her deep despair was strangely contrasted by
the infantine composure of the child. For the last halfhour she had hold her little bleating pet in -her lap, saying
she would not have Nanny to be drowned; and when she
saw Cleo and Jack, and I, and all, I may say, engaged
at intervals in prayer, she would try to imitate us, saying
with a most solemn look, "Lord, let me die with Cleo, and
Jack will pray for me to Jesus Christ."
As the flood-tide set in, the breakers on the rock became
more and more tremendous. The boat was hoisted out,
but the shore presented no hope whatever of safety, for
it was one unbroken reef of rocks and shelving stones,
on which the-sea was dashing with a noise like thunder.
I determined to abide by the wreck; and seeing I could
but die, while I had life I left no means of self-preservation unimproved; so, lashing myself to a spar, I silently
witnessed the embarkation of Cleo and her child, dear
Jack, and some others of the sailors, in the boat,





30
With much difficulty, the men were enabled to set a bit
of sail, and made for shore, in the presence of hundreds
of spectators, who were looking with anguish on our
miserable situation. When they put off from the wreck,
they went pretty well for a quarter of a mile or so, the
sail keeping them buoyant, and the boat standing with
her head against the waves. But as she drew nearer the
surf, a tremendous squall involved them all in darkness,
and torrents of rain quite shut them out from our view.
But, Oh! how shall I relate what followed?  The sky
cleared almost as suddenly as it was overcast-the squall
subsided-the sun shone out-we looked, and looked
again, till our eyeballs were almost bursting from their
sockets-we strained our vision again to look; and the
cry, "where's the boat?"-the shriek from the spectators
on the cliffs, and the groans from my fellow-sufferers on
the wreck, came at once with a louder and more fearful
sweep than even the wildest ravings of the tempest.
Again it returned, in one simultaneous burst of anguish.
The sea, indeed, answered the demand, and gave up the
boat; but she gave not up the dead;-the boat appeared
driven with her keel above the waters; but her precious
freight was gone for ever! Oh! the horrors of that moment! And yet amid them all, while I clung, shivering,
to the shrouds of the vessel, expecting every moment to
be swallowed up by the merciless sea, I felt, as if were, a
beam of light across my soul, as I followed in spirit the
sailor boy, and beheld him, with his ransomed companions,
enter into the joy of his Lord.
The wreck, contrary to all human calculation, continued to hold together till next morning; when the storm
having been succeeded by a calm, that smiled as it were
on the ruin its predecessor had accomplished, my fellow
sufferers and myself were brought, by the kind care of the
fishermen on the coast safe to land. Being much exhausted, I went to bed in a little cottage, whose generous
owner hospitably opened her door to receive me. In the
evening I arose, and went to view the bodies of those who
had been washed ashore. On the low but decent bed of
the little village ale-house, Cleo and her "Massa's child"
were lying. They were clasped together in an inseparable embrace-the child's head reposing on the bosom of





31
her nurse; and the swarthy arms of Cleo were locked
around her little darling; while death itself, which severs
the dearest and fondest ties of human tenderness, here
appeared only to have rendered their communion more
indissoluble. They were buried in each others' arms.
I was turning away from a last view of their remains
when I perceived that poor Nanny, the pet kid, who had
survived by swimming ashore, and who had followed me
into the room, had climbed with its fore-feet upon the
bed, and was licking the dead hand of its unconscious
little playmate.
Poor Jack, less honoured, but surely not less worthy
of honour--was laid out on a sheet on the floor, a blue
checkered shirt his only shroud! On his hands and face
a few scratches were visible, which he had received from
the rocks. Yet his countenance wore a heavenly expression; and, stooping down, I robbed his dear head of a
little lock of auburn hair. His effects-alas! how poor,
and yet how rich! were spread upon a table in the room,
and consisted of a little leathern purse, in which was a
well kept half-crown and a solitary sixpence! His Bible,
which he ever accounted his chief riches, and from which
he had derived treasures of wisdom and knowledge, was
placed by his side. I tookit up, and observed, engraved
on its clasp of brass, these words:
"T e gift of ROBERT RAIKES, t J. R. PELHAM, Gloslter.'
O Raikes! this is one gem of purest light, indeed; but
it is one of the many thousand gems that shall encircle
thy radiant head, in that day when the Lord of hosts shall
make up his jewels.
"For they that turn many to righteousness shall shine as
the stars for ever and ever."
And now, my dear children, in affectionately bidding
you adieu, I fervently recommend you to the care of that
Almighty Friend who hath promised that He "will never
leave nor forsake those who put their trust in Him.
Guided by His counsel, protected by His providence,
and sanctified by His Spirit, we may confidently look
for His favour here, and His eternal reward hereafter.
A. LAYMAN.
Philadelphia, 1855.





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