THE HISTORY OF A BIBLE

Author ascribed to Rev. J. W. Cunningham.

After remaining a close prisoner for some months in a bookseller’s shop, I was liberated, and taken to the country to be a companion to a young gentleman who had lately become major. The moment I entered the parlor where he sat, he rose up and took me in his hands, expressing his surprise at the elegance of my dress, which was scarlet, embroidered with gold. The whole family seemed greatly pleased with my appearance; but they would not permit me to say one word. After their curiosity was satisfied they desired me to sit down upon a chair in the corner of the room. In the evening I was taken up stairs, and confined in the family prison, called by them the library. Several thousand prisoners were under the same sentence, standing in rows around the room; they had their names written upon their foreheads, but none of them were allowed to speak.

We all remained in this silent, inactive posture for some years. Now and then a stranger was admitted to see us: these generally wondered at our number, beauty, and the order in which we stood; but our young jailor would never allow a person to touch us, or take us from our cell.

A gentleman came in one morning and spoke in high commendation of some Arabians and Turks who stood at my right side; he said they would afford fine entertainment on a winter evening. Upon this recommendation they were all discharged from prison, and taken down stairs. After they had finished their fund of stories, and had not a word more to say, they were remanded back to prison, and one, who called himself Don Quixotte, was set at liberty. This man, being extremely witty, afforded fine sport for William, (for that was our proprietor’s name.) Indeed, for more than a fortnight he kept the whole house in what is called good humor. After Quixotte had concluded his harangues, William chose a “Man of Feeling” for his companion, who wrought upon his passions in a way which pleased him vastly. William now began to put a higher value upon his prisoners, and to use them much more politely. Almost daily he held a little chit-chat with one prisoner or another. Mr. Hume related to him the history of England down to the Revolution, which he interspersed with a number of anecdotes about Germany, France, Italy, and various other kingdoms. Dr. Robertson then described the state of South America when first discovered, and related the horrid barbarities committed by the Spaniards when they stole it from the natives. William wept when he heard of their savage treatment of Montezuma. Rollin next spoke; he related to him the rise and fall of ancient empires; he told him that God was supreme governor among the nations; that he raises up one to great power and splendor, and putteth down another. He told him, what he did not know before, that God had often revealed to some men events which were to happen hundreds of years afterwards, and directed him to converse with me, and I could fully inform him on that subject. William resolved to converse with me at a future period, but having heard some of his relations speak rather disrespectfully of me, he was in no hurry. At length my prison door was unlocked, and I was conducted to his bedroom.

My first salutation struck William. In the beginning, said I, God made the heavens and the earth; and then proceeded to make man, whom he placed in a garden, with permission to eat of every tree that was in it, except one. I then related the history of Adam, the first man: how he was urged and prevailed upon by the devil not to mind God’s prohibition, but to eat of the forbidden tree; and how by this abominable act he had plunged himself and posterity into misery. William not relishing this conversation, closed my mouth, desiring me to say no more at that time.

A few days afterwards he allowed me to talk of the wickedness of the old world: how God sent Noah to reprove their iniquity, and to threaten the destruction of the whole world, if they did not repent and turn to the Lord; that the world were deaf to his remonstrances; and that God at last desired Noah to build an ark of wood, such as would contain himself and family; for he was soon to destroy the inhabitants of the earth by a deluge of water. This conversation was rather more relished than the former.

The next opportunity, I gave him a history of the ancient patriarchs, showing the simplicity, integrity, and holiness of their lives, extolling their faith in God, and promptness in obeying all his commandments. William became much more thoughtful than I had seen him upon any former occasion. What I told him he generally related to his friends at table. Their conversation was now more manly and rational; formerly they conversed only about horses, hounds, dress, etc. now about the history of the world, its creation, the remarkable men who had lived in it, the different changes which had taken place in empires, kingdoms, etc.

He was wonderfully taken with the account I gave of that nation whom God had chosen for his own people, viz. the Jews. I told him how wonderfully God had delivered them from captivity in Egypt; how he drowned in the Red Sea an army of Egyptians, with their king at their head, who were pursuing the Jews. But when I told him of the holy law of God, and expatiated a little upon it, he shrugged up his shoulders and said it was too strict for him. Well, William, said I, cursed is every one who continueth not in all things written or commanded in that law. He pushed me aside, ran down stairs, and soon became sick and feverish. His mother begged of him to tell her of his sudden distress. He said I had alarmed him exceedingly; that he found himself a great sinner, and saw no mercy for him in the world to come. His mother came running up stairs, and in the heat of passion locked me into my old cell, where I remained in close confinement for some days. But William could not dispense with my company; accordingly I was sent for. I found him very pale and pensive; however, I faithfully told him, that the imaginations of the thoughts of the heart are only evil, and that continually. He said he lately began to feel that; he had tried to make it better, but could not. Upon this a stranger entered the room, and I was hid at the back of a sofa, because the family were quite ashamed that I should be seen talking with William. The stranger remarked that he had seen him talking with me, assured him that I would do him much more harm than good: that I had occasioned great confusion in the world, by driving many people mad. On this, they all joined in scandalizing my character, and I was again confined to my old cell.

But when my God enables me to fix an arrow in any sinner’s heart, the whole universe cannot draw it out. William was always uneasy when I was not with him; consequently he paid me many a stolen visit. I told him one day not to trust in riches, for they often took to themselves wings, and flew from one man to another, as God directed them. Job once possessed houses, lands, sheep, a flourishing family, all of which were taken from him in a few hours; but God never forsook him.

William’s friends got him persuaded to take a tour for a few weeks, to remove the gloom which hung upon his mind. He did so; but he returned more dejected than ever. The moment he arrived I was sent for to talk with him. I directed him to behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world: I said there was no other name given under heaven among men, but the name of Jesus, by which they could be saved; that God so loved the world as to send his Son into it, to save it by his death. I then went over the whole history of the Savior, from his birth at Bethlehem to his death on Calvary; describing his resurrection, and pointing out the evidence of it; then led his attention to Bethany, describing the marvelous circumstances attending his ascension to his Father; and testified to him the wonderful effects which followed in the immense increase of conversions to the faith. I then enlarged upon Christ’s commission to his apostles, commanding them to publish to every creature under heaven the glad news that Christ had died for the ungodly; had finished redemption, and ascended up on high to receive gifts for men, and to bestow them on all who believed God’s testimony concerning him.

God opened the mind of William to perceive the importance and truth of these things. He began to hope in God, through the offering of his Son a sacrifice for sin. I advised him now to follow holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord in heaven, or can continue to see his glory on earth; to have no fellowship with wicked men; to be a faithful steward of whatever God had given him. I told him how Christ rewarded those who overcame all their enemies through faith in his blood, and by believing the word of his testimony. This conversation made him very happy, and he left me, rejoicing in the Lord.

Sometime after, he came with a sorrowful heart, complaining that he did not feel the Lord’s presence; that God had forsaken him. I assured him that was impossible; for God expressly says he will never leave nor forsake his people; and that he changes not in his love to them. I warned him to be cautious how he spoke against God, for such language is calling God a liar. I told him likewise, that the church had once preferred a similar complaint against her God; upon which Jehovah protested that it was possible for a mother to forsake her infant child, but impossible for him ever to leave or to forsake his people; for he had pledged his word to the contrary. Wherefore I warned him to be no more faithless, but believing; and by doing so he would glorify God greatly before men: it would tend to make men think more favorably of God, and probably lead some to seek an interest in his favor, who otherwise would not. Upon this he cried out with tears, Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief. I change in my love, but thou changest not. William left me, determined to rejoice evermore, and to pray without ceasing.

At first his friends thought religion had made him less happy than he was before; now they declared they had never seen him in such good spirits, and so truly happy. They began to wish they were like him. William longed for the coming of the Lord, while they trembled at the very thought of it: they rather wished he might never come. This was a great advantage he had over them by the grace and tender mercy of the Lord. He exhorted them to come to the same Savior, and he would receive them also with open arms.

William was afterwards brought into great affliction. I told him God sent it to him for good, to make him more holy, humble, dead to sin and the world, and more fit for heaven. He believed me, and praised God for his attention to him, to send this messenger of affliction to do him good. A person who came in, expressed sorrow at seeing him so pained. William replied, don’t sorrow for me; rejoice rather, because God has said that our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and an eternal weight of glory. I am willing to be sick, or to die, or to recover, just as God pleases; whatever pleases him pleases me.

I was never from him during his sickness; he praised God daily that he had ever seen me. He was happy only when he talked with me or about me. He recommended me to all who came near him, declaring that my words created a heaven in his soul. He found me to be the mouth of God to him.

William was completely recovered from his indisposition, by which his knowledge of God, and experience of his faithfulness and love, was much increased. I continued his bosom companion for many years. He talked in the fear of God, and in the comforts of his Holy Spirit, till at length he entered, with triumph, into the eternal joy of his Lord.


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After conducting William to the gates of the New Jerusalem, I was sent for to reside with a young man in the middling ranks of life, who had received a liberal and religious education from his parents, lately removed from this poor world. The effects of their example and counsel were evident in all his conduct. He lived what men call a good moral life, his deportment was very agreeable, and his sobriety was commended by many. He regularly conversed with me twice every day, and prayed in his closet morning and evening. On Sabbath I talked to him from dinner to tea, and from tea to supper.

An old uncle of his perpetually exhorted him to go abroad to amass a fortune. He did not at first relish the advice. One day he consulted me. I bluntly told him to be content with such things as he had; not to hasten to be rich, for he would thereby pierce himself with many sorrows: that numbers were ruined through the deceitfulness of riches. Labor not for the meat that perisheth, said I, but for that which endureth to everlasting life. After this conversation, he reasoned with his uncle against leaving his country and friends merely to make money in a foreign land: he declared that the object was a pitiful one to an immortal creature, who must soon bid an eternal adieu to the affairs of time. However, after standing his ground for some months, he consented to go a voyage to the West Indies.

He set sail from Liverpool, and took me along with him. As there were several passengers in the ship, all of whom were profane sinners, he was ashamed to let me be seen; of course I was hid in a corner of the state-room, completely masked. On the first Sabbath morning, he took a single peep at me before the other passengers awoke. I hastily told him to remember the Sabbath to keep it holy; that God was every where present to witness the works of men. He resolved to abide by my advice, and to keep at as great a distance from those on board as he well could. They asked him to take a hand at cards, but he refused. Pho! said they, we have got one of your superstitious Christians along with us; we shall have nice sport with him. They teased him with his religion the whole day, and poor George could not well bear it. One bold sinner asserted, that before they reached their destination, they would have all his enthusiasm hammered out of him.

George having none to encourage or countenance him, and not possessing firmness sufficient for confessing me before men, resolved to dispense with his religion during the voyage, and to comply with their abandoned customs, while he continued in the ship. Thus he fell before temptation.

One day in the midst of his merriment, he recollected an advice which I had solemnly given him. It was this: When sinners entice thee, consent thou not. Immediately he rushed out of the cabin, threw himself on his bed, and wept bitterly. He cried out, (but not so loud as to be heard,) I have ruined my soul, O what would my worthy mother have said, had she witnessed my conduct for days past. On his return to the cabin, the sadness of his countenance was observed by the company; they laughed heartily and assured him that his reluctance to join them in what they termed sociality, arose from the prejudices of education: that he must endeavor to banish all his fears of futurity, and mind present enjoyment. These and similar observations gradually unhinged the principles of young George, and before reaching their destined port, his checks of conscience were almost gone. What a dreadful state, when man’s conscience ceases to be his reprover! Men are often glad when they obtain this deliverance, but the infatuation is as shocking to a pious mind as to see a man in flames rejoicing in the heat which will infallibly consume him.

After the arrival of the ship, we all went ashore; and George was soon fixed in a very advantageous situation for money making. When the first Sabbath arrived, he protested against transacting business on that day, declaring that he had never been accustomed to any thing of that kind. They advised him to labor hard seven days in the week, that he might return sooner to the country from whence he came; and at length prevailed on him to conform to their infidel practices. I told him that for all these things God would bring him into judgment; that he was like the rest of the wicked, who waxed worse and worse; that he did not love Jesus Christ, else he would keep his commandments, notwithstanding all the raillery and reproach to which he was exposed. I warned him that whoever was ashamed to confess Christ before men, of him would he be ashamed in the presence of his Father and the holy angels.

In a few months he became as wicked and abandoned as any on the island. He made a present of me to a poor native, who could read a little English. I frequently conversed with him, but he could not understand what I said. He often desired me to speak to his companions. A few were greatly affected with what I said. They often called upon me. Sometimes they pleasantly said my words made them very happy, they desired to go to that happy world which I commended so highly. They fervently prayed to Jesus to take them to it. An old slave creeped in one day, inquiring if Jesus could do any thing for very bad people. I replied, It is a faithful saying, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, even the chief. He is able to save unto the very uttermost all who come unto God through him. The black man, bathed in tears, exclaimed, Good book! tell me good news! Like the Ethiopian eunuch, he went away rejoicing.

After some years I was sent for in great haste to visit my old proprietor George, who by his intemperance was brought to the gates of death. In his affliction he remembered me. I told him fools make a mock at sin, but sin finds them out. God had been long angry with him every day. He confessed he had been a great sinner. He said that bad company had been his ruin: that by following their example he had destroyed a fine constitution; that in his distress his bottle companions had all forsaken him; they could not bear the thought of death. Had I my days to begin again, said he, I would flee from a swearer or a drunkard, as I would from the plague. He prayed fervently that God would forgive his iniquity for the sake of his Son Jesus Christ. His fever increased, and in a few days he went the way of all the earth.

After this I became the inmate of a respectable family which had long been on the island. The master and mistress were professors of religion, but during their residence in the island they had neglected many of its most important duties.

At length one of their children became ill and died. They came to me for consolation. I gave them to understand, that it was because they had gone astray that they were afflicted, and that their affliction was designed to call them back to duty. They were at length persuaded of their error, and praised God that he had loved them so much as to chastise them. They now strove to serve God with all their hearts. They listened to me when I told them that they should instruct their children in religion on every proper occasion, both when they sat in the house and when they walked by the way. The youth of that family became at length distinguished throughout the island for every virtuous and amiable quality.

But what did more to make religion respected in that house, was the practice of family prayer. I was brought out night and morning, and permitted to speak before all the family, which was seated around the room in a respectful and attentive attitude. I seldom spoke with more effect than on these occasions. I addressed every member of the family in their turn. I commanded the parents to treat their children with mildness, and the children to obey their parents. I told the little ones that Christ took little children in his arms and blessed them; and bade the servants do their duty to their master, and the master to be kind to his servants. And when my instructions were finished, all in the house united in singing a hymn to God; and I believe they sometimes made melody in their hearts. When they had sung, my master would kneel and offer up a humble prayer to God. These exercises caused harmony to prevail throughout a numerous family. I observed also that although the inhabitants of the island did not relish my master’s piety, yet he every day obtained more and more of their respect, as his piety increased.

I have lived many years, and have seen all those children grown up (I believe through my instructions) in the fear of the Lord. I was by the bed-side of their parents when the messenger Death came to call them away. I spoke to them of the joys of heaven, and of its inhabitants, who sing praise to the Lamb, and cease not day nor night. They cried, “Lord Jesus, come quickly,” and ascended to glory.

I have always been a faithful friend to all who have sought acquaintance with me. I will be faithful to thee, reader! I will show thee the only path that leads through this world to heaven. Follow my instructions, and you will arrive there in safety.

Printed book at Amazon.com: The Village in the Mountains; Conversion of Peter Bayssiere; and History of a Bible

JAMES COVEY by Rev. John Griffin

MR. PRATT relates an affecting anecdote of a sailor on board the ship Venerable, in the action off Camperdown. He received the account from Dr. Duncan, who assisted in binding up the wounds and amputating the limbs of the unfortunate sufferers. A mariner, says the doctor, of the name of Covey, was brought down to the surgery, deprived of both his legs; and it was necessary, some hours after, to amputate still higher. "I suppose," said Covey, with an oath, "these scissors will finish the business of the ball, master mate." "Indeed, my brave fellow," cried the surgeon, "there is some fear of it." "Well, never mind," said Covey, "I have lost my legs, and mayhap lose my life; but we have beat the Dutch, so I'll e'en have another cheer for it: Huzza, Huzza!"

Covey was a good seaman, and noticed among his shipmates for his intrepidity; but he was preeminent in sin. About a fortnight before the action, he was alarmed by a dream which made him tremble. The thoughts of his sins, of God, and of death, harassed his mind, and filled him with gloomy forebodings of what awaited him in this world and the next, till the sight of the Dutch fleet, and the conversation of the men with each other concerning the heroic achievements they should perform, dispelled the gloomy subject.

As the two fleets were coming into action, the noble Admiral, to save the lives of his men, ordered them to lie flat on the deck, till, being nearer the enemy, their firing might do more execution. Covey, having lost all the impressions of his former reflections, heaped, in rapid succession, the most dreadful imprecations on the eyes, and limbs, and souls, of what he called his cowardly shipmates, for lying down. He refused to obey the order, till, fearing the authority of an officer not far from him, he in part complied, by leaning over a cask which stood near, till the word of command was given to fire. At the moment of rising, a bar-shot carried away one of his legs and the greater part of the other; but so instantaneous was the stroke, that, though he was sensible of a jar in his limbs, he knew not that he had lost a leg till his stump came to the deck, and he fell. His legs were amputated; and he was soon put into Haslar Hospital, from which he at length came out, capable of walking by the means of two wooden legs and two crutches; but his spirits were sorely dejected, from fearing that, as his sins had brought upon him the judgments of God in the loss of his limbs, they would bring it upon him in the loss of his reason and the loss of his soul.

Having heard of Orange-street Chapel, Portsea, he came on the first Sabbath evening after his leaving the hospital. The text that evening was, "And they come to Jesus, and see him that was possessed with the devil, and had the legion, sitting, and clothed, and in his right mind." Mark 5:15. The minister represented this demoniac as a fit emblem of sinners in general, especially of those who live without rule and order; drunkards, blasphemers, and injurious to themselves and others; and his sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed, and in his right mind, as an engaging representation of the sinner converted to God by the Gospel, made sensible of the evil of sin, the value of his soul, and the necessity of salvation through a crucified Redeemer; enjoying peace of mind, having fellowship with Christ and his people, submitting to the authority of the Scriptures, and receiving instructions from Christ, the friend of sinners. Covey listened with attention and surprise; wondered how the minister should know him among so many hundred people; or who could have told him his character and state of mind. His astonishment was still more increased, when he found him describe, as he thought, the whole of his life, and even his secret sins. He could not account for it, why a minister should make a sermon all about him, a poor, wooden-legged sailor. His sins being brought afresh to his mind, filled him with horrors tenfold more gloomy than before. Despair for some minutes took a firm hold on his spirits; and he thought he was now going out of his mind, should die, and be lost; till the minister declared Jesus Christ was as willing to save the vilest of sinners, as he was to relieve this poor creature possessed of the devil; and that a man was restored to his right mind, when he believed in him. He now began to think he had been out of his mind all his life, and that to love and serve Jesus Christ would be a restoration to his right senses again. While hearing of the astonishing love of Jesus Christ to sinners, hope took the place of despair, and joy of grief and horror! Those eyes which had not shed a tear when he lost his legs, nor when the shattered parts of his limbs were amputated, now wept in copious streams of mingled joy and sorrow!

Some weeks after this, he called and related to me the whole of his history and experience; and, something more than twelve months after, he was received a member of our church, having given satisfactory evidence of being a genuine and consistent Christian.

A few weeks since, hearing he was ill, I went to visit him. When I entered his room, he said, "Come in, thou man of God! I have been longing to see you and tell you the happy state of my mind. I believe I shall soon die; but death has now no terrors in it. The sting of death is sin, but thanks be to God, he has given me victory through Jesus Christ. O, what has Jesus done for me, one of the vilest sinners of the human race!" A little before he died, when he thought himself within a few hours of dissolution, he said, "I have often thought it was a hard thing to die, but now I find it a very easy thing to die. The presence of Christ makes it easy. The joy I feel from a sense of the love of God to sinners, from the thought of being with the Savior, of being free from a sinful heart, and enjoying the presence of God for ever, is more than I can express! O, how different my thoughts of God, and of myself, and of another world, from what they were when I lost my limbs on board the Venerable! It was a precious loss to me! If I had not lost my legs, I should perhaps have lost my soul!"

With elevated and clasped hands, and with eyes glistening with earnestness through the tears which flowed down his face, he said, "O, my dear minister, I pray you, when I am dead, to preach a funeral sermon for a poor sailor; and tell others, especially sailors, who are as ignorant and wicked as I was, that since poor blaspheming Covey found mercy with God, through faith in the blood of Christ, none that seek it need to despair! You know better than I do what to say to them! But, O be in earnest with them; and may the Lord grant that my wicked neighbors and fellow-sailors may find mercy, as well as Covey!" He said much more; but his last words were, "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" I wish Dr. Duncan and Mr. Pratt had witnessed the last dying hours of this once ignorant and blasphemous sinner; they would have seen what a pleasing change was effected by the meek and efficacious grace of our compassionate Redeemer.

THE LOST CHILDREN by Timothy Shay Arthur

"TELL us the story about the lost children, dear mother," said George, laying down his playthings and coming to his mother's side.

"Oh, yes, do, mother, please," added the little boy's sister; a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl, just ten years old.

"I told you the story yesterday," replied the mother.

"I know you did," answered George. "But we want to hear it again. Tell it to us, dear mother, and we will be such good children!"

"There was once a little boy and girl," began the mother; "no older than you are, my children, who got lost in a thick, dark wood, in which were fierce wild beasts. They were brother and sister, and their names were Edward and Ellen. They were playing near their father's house one day, when Edward said, ‘Come, sister, let us go across the field into the woods yonder, and gather some pretty flowers for mamma.'

"Ellen was pleased at the thought of getting for her dear mamma a beautiful bunch of flowers, and so she said, ‘Oh, yes, brother, let us go.'

"So this little boy and girl went across the field and into the woods, where they wandered about, gathering a great many bright wild flowers. When their hands were full, Ellen said, ‘Now, brother, let us go home.'

"They took hold of each other's hands and started, as they thought, toward their home; but I am sorry to say they went away from, instead of toward their home, and soon found that they were lost in a thick, dark wood. Poor Ellen began to cry. Edward put his arm around her, and said-

" ‘Don't cry, sister, we will find our way home.'

"Oh, no, Edward," she said, ‘we are lost in the woods, and it will soon be dark. Oh! we shall be eaten up by the wolves.'

" ‘The wolves will not eat us up,' replied the brave-hearted little boy, confidently. So don't cry, sister.'

" ‘Oh, yes, I am sure they will.'

" ‘Don't be afraid. I know they won't hurt us. Wolves are wicked animals, but if we pray to God to take care of us, He will not let the wolves hurt us.'

" ‘Oh, let us pray then,' said Ellen. And all alone in the gloomy forest, this dear little boy and his sister knelt down and prayed that God would keep the wicked wolves from hurting them.'

"After they had prayed, Ellen's tears dried up, and she took hold of Edward's arm, and clung close to his side. Just then a deep growl sounded through the forest, and presently they saw a long gray wolf coming fiercely toward them.

"The children dropped upon their knees, and Edward said aloud-

" ‘Our Father in heaven, keep the wolves from hurting us.'

"They had no sooner prayed that prayer than the wolf stopped right still for a minute or two, and then ran of another way.

" ‘They were very much frightened, and trembled all over. Ellen said-

" ‘God has made the wicked wolf go away-He will not let him hurt us. Oh, I wish He would show us the way home. It is getting so dark.'

" ‘Let us ask Him to show us the way home,' said Edward.

"Again the lost children knelt down and prayed. They were still on their knees when they heard afar off, the sound of their father's voice calling them. Oh! how their little hearts jumped for joy. They sprang up, and ran as fast as they could in the direction from which the sound came. In a little while they were in their father's arms, crying for joy."

"I am so glad!" exclaimed George and his sister at once; "God wouldn't let the wicked wolf eat them up."

"No, my children. He kept them from all harm. And if you will be good, and pray to him, He will protect you in every danger."

"Don't you know any more stories about lost children, dear mother?" asked George.

"Shall I tell you about the Children of Men, who were once lost in the Wilderness of Sin?"

"Oh, yes, do mother. But who were the Children of Men?"

"All the people in the world are called the Children of Men."

"And were all the people in the world once lost, dear mother?"

"Yes, all mankind were once lost, and about to be destroyed by hungry wolves-but the Lord saved them, and brought them out of the wilderness."

"Won't you tell us all about it, mother?"

"Yes, if you will listen very attentively. I do not mean that all children of men were lost in just such a wood as Edward and Ellen were lost in; nor, that they were in danger of being eaten up by such wolves as threatened to eat up this dear little boy and girl."

"What kind of wolves were they?" asked the children.

"They were just such things in their hearts as corresponded to wolves and every evil and hurtful beast-wicked passions. But let me tell you all about it. The Lord made men innocent and good. All things around them were as beautiful as the fairest garden you have ever seen. In their hearts dwelt only those good feelings to which the lambs and doves and all good animals correspond. They were very happy, and angels were their companions.

"But, after a while, the children of men began to forget the good Lord who made them, and gave them every blessing they enjoyed. At the same time that they forgot God, they forgot to love one another. The innocent lambs began to die in their bosoms, and evil beasts of prey to take their place. They hated, instead of loving one another. Then war, dreadful war, first appeared on the earth. Men not only hated, but sought to kill each other. Wicked spirits possessed them, soul and body. They were as if lost in a great wilderness, and about to be destroyed by the wild beasts that were in their hearts.

"It was then that the Lord came and saved them. He drove out the evil spirits and cruel beasts, and led the lost Children of Men out of this dark and fearful wilderness. It was Jesus Christ, of whom you read in the New Testament, the Lord of Heaven and Earth, who did this. When you are older, and can understand better I will tell you more about the lost Children of Men, and the good Lord who saved them."

THE FIRST VOYAGE by T. H. Gallaudet

A LETTER ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG FRIEND ABOUT TO EMBARK AS A SAILOR ON HIS FIRST VOYAGE.

HARTFORD, CONN.

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND-Will you permit one who has long felt a deep interest in your welfare to say a few things to you in the way of friendly counsel, as you are about embarking in your new and arduous enterprise? I write from the heart, and I pray God that he would add his blessing to what I affectionately address to your consideration.

Look ahead. Should you persevere in leading a seafaring life, think where you will find yourself some ten, twenty, or thirty years hence, if your life is spared thus long. Do you mean to rise above the situation of a common sailor? Do you aim to be a thoroughly qualified, respectable, and useful master of a ship? Then remember, that if you ever reach that station, it will be by successive steps of advancement. You will advance, too, in proportion as you acquire the confidence of others; and this confidence will depend upon the character you are every day forming.

The first day that you go on board your vessel, and begin to act and to be observed by those around you, you will begin to establish this character; and every following day, through succeeding months and years, will be adding traits to it, either favorable or unfavorable. Little things, as you may estimate them, but most momentous in their results, will go to make up this character; and they will be recollected too, and constitute answers to future inquiries about you, with a minuteness of which you may now have a very inadequate conception.

"What sort of a lad was young -- his first voyage?" will be asked some years hence, in order to know whether confidence can be placed in you with reference to your advancement to some superior station. "Who were captain and mate of the ship? What do they say of him? What do the steady and respectable sailors that were on board say of him?" Suppose the united reply to be-which, I ardently hope will prove to be the case-"He was one of the steadiest and best-behaved sailors on board the ship; faithful in the discharge of his duties, strictly moral in his conduct and habits; his shipmates say they never heard him utter a profane or vulgar expression, or saw him drink any intoxicating liquor; he was esteemed by the captain and officers, and respected by all. It was thought, too, that he was a pious young man, and his example and influence were worth a great deal in sustaining good order; so that it will be no small advantage in this respect to have him on board any ship in which he may choose to sail."

Such a character will be worth every thing to you, even so far as your temporal welfare is concerned-worth more than thousands of dollars, or the most respectable family connections. For these, however largely you may possess them, can never procure you the confidence of others, if your character is undeserving of it. If you aspire to have that character which will lead others to place confidence in you, remember that you must begin to form it the first day that you go on board, and that you must go on adding to it every day afterwards. If you are so unfortunate as to think that you are so young, and occupy so unimportant a station, that what you say and do for the first few months of your sailor's life will not be noticed and remembered, you will find yourself most sadly mistaken. It will be very particularly noticed and remembered, and have a most important bearing on the whole course of your future life.

Besides, if you do not begin right, you will find it more and more difficult to get right afterwards. If you swear some the first month, habit will lead you to swear more the second month, and the third, and so on; and when will you have the resolution to stop?

Drink ever so little spirits when you first form acquaintance with your shipmates for company's sake, or to avoid being laughed at for being a temperance man, and do you think you will have courage to abstain the second, third, or fourth time you are invited? If it should be soon seen that you can indulge a little in loose and low conversation, or listen to it with satisfaction-that you can pass or enjoy a joke on religious people or religious things-how hard it will be to turn about in opposition to the remarks of those around you, and do these degrading and sinful things no more.

Profane the first Sabbath, and let the irreligious on board see that you belong to their class, and will you be able to resist their enticements or sneers, and keep the second and following Sabbaths as you ought?

Set out from the very beginning with a fixed determination-looking to God in frequent and earnest prayer to help you to keep it-that you will converse and conduct as a Christian, discreet, and respectable young man ought to do; and carry this determination into effect without cant or boasting, in a calm, cheerful, kind, and yet decided manner, bearing a few hard rubs, and perhaps some sarcastic or bitter remarks good-naturedly, and you will be gratified to see how soon all this will cease, and you take your proper stand among those around you, and be respected and well treated even by the most profane and licentious men on board.

But to do this, you need divine strength; you need to be a Christian in heart. This will constitute your only true security; many and new temptations will surround you. You will need moral courage to resist them. Look then to God, in humble and earnest prayer for the influence of his Holy Spirit, to lead you to sincere repentance for sin, and to a cordial faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as your only Savior. Continue to look to Him, in the same way, for those daily supplies of wisdom, grace, and strength that you will peculiarly need.

Read the Bible daily, if it is only a few verses. Read it more fully on the Sabbath, and also such other religious books as you may have. Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. I know there will be certain duties which, as a sailor, you will have to perform on that day; but notwithstanding this, you will have opportunities and modes of observing the day properly. You can abstain from all conversation and conduct that is inconsistent with its sacredness, and you can let those around you see that you are under the influence of Christian principle in this respect.

Avoid intimacies with the profane, the licentious, and the irreligious, while you treat all in a kind and gentlemanlike manner. Pray for such persons, and try to do them good in all wise and proper ways. Avoid bad and loose books and pictures-if there should be any such on board-as you would avoid poison. Show your disapprobation of them in a marked and decided manner. They have ruined thousands.

If there are any decidedly steady, and, still more, religious sailors on board, seek their acquaintance, and cultivate their friendship. Two or three can greatly strengthen each other in what is right and good. Think of your dear father and mother, of your family and friends. Conduct well for their sakes. Think of your future prospects. Think of God, whose eye will ever be upon you. Think of death; it may overtake you unawares. Think of eternity; how soon you will be there, to partake of its indescribable joys or sorrows. May the Lord bless you, guide, and keep you in the way of duty, of safety, and of peace.

Your sincere friend,
T. H. GALLAUDET.

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Illustrated Seaman's Narratives (New York: American Tract Society, c. 1880), page 239.

THE WAY-SIDE HEARERS

Three girls were sitting together at public worship one Sunday afternoon, listening to a very solemn and impressive sermon, in which the minister spoke much of the sufferings that Christ endured in the garden of Gethsemane, and on the cross for our salvation. They were Sunday scholars, so that the minister knew them all by name; and, as they sat near the pulpit, his eyes rested upon them occasionally; perhaps with a hope that, through God's blessing upon his words, their hearts might be touched with a sense of the Redeemer's exceeding love in thus dying for us, and of the gratitude and obedience which we owe to him in return; for this is the design and end of all the sermons that we hear. If they do not awaken in us sorrow for our sins, a feeling of thankfulness for God's pardoning mercy through Christ, and an earnest desire to live to his glory, it were better for us that we had never heard the glad tidings of the gospel, since for all these slighted invitations and neglected warnings we must hereafter give account to God.

When service was over, the girls arose, and slowly left the church with the rest of the congregation. There was nothing unbecoming in their behavior as they passed along the aisle; not a word nor a look was amiss. One of them, Mary Thornton, seemed more serious than usual; and turned to say goodbye when they reached the porch; for her home lay in a different direction from that of her companions.

"Oh! stop a little while," said Fanny Johnson, as they stood in the churchyard; "there is no hurry this fine afternoon."

"Grandmother will want her tea," answered Mary; "and I promised to get home as soon as I could."

"Grandmother can wait, I suppose," returned Fanny, laughing; "and, if she is cross, you may tell her what a long sermon we have had. I declare I thought it was never coming to an end."

"It was a very good sermon," said Mary, seriously.

"Well, we do not want to talk about the sermon," interrupted Fanny's sister, Elizabeth Johnson; "and if you are in such a hurry," for Mary was walking on, "we can go with you down the lane. We need not go home any sooner than we like."

Mary would rather have walked down the green lane alone, thinking over what she had heard; but she had not courage to say so. And she persuaded herself that it would do just as well by-and-by. She would find the text in her Bible after tea, and read over the chapter, and that would bring to her mind many things that the minister had said. So they went talking and laughing along, and Mary heard all that Fanny and Elizabeth had to tell about a fair that was to be held in a neighboring village next day, and felt strongly inclined to go, if she could only get her grandmother's leave. She also listened to a description of the smart new bonnets which their mother had promised them before the following Sunday; and she began to reckon how long it was since hers was new, and to wonder how much longer her grandmother expected it to last; so that, with the fair and the new bonnets to think of, it was not surprising that the sermon should go entirely out of her head, and all the good desires that it had awakened in her mind.

After tea, instead of opening the Bible and looking out the text, she stood for an hour or more idly leaning against the door-post, sullen and discontented, because her careful grandmother would not hear a word about her going to the fair; and when bed-time came, instead of ending the Sabbath with prayer and holy thoughts, she just uttered a few sentences with her lips, while her heart was far from God, and then lay down to rest, as careless about her everlasting welfare as if she had never heard of Christ and all that he endured to save her soul from endless woe.

Thus it is that the good seed of the word is often taken away from the heart, through sinful companions, through vain and idle talk, through our own want of watchfulness and prayer. How many young persons have been impressed while listening to a sermon, have felt a rising desire to become religious, have made good resolutions before leaving the house of God; yet, by the time that they entered again their own homes, have been cold and indifferent, and worldly-minded as ever. How sad it is, when public worship is over, to see young people clustering in giddy groups outside, with ill-timed merriment and light discourse, doing their best to help the work of Satan, and to banish every recollection of God, of the never-dying soul, of preparation for the life to come! To keep up an appearance of seriousness and devotion in the presence of God's ministers and people, and immediately to throw it aside amongst our own companions and friends, must be a fearful mockery of Him who "looketh upon the heart." And oh! it is a solemn and an awful thing to trifle with the convictions of the Holy Spirit. Every good thought and every holy desire is from Him. He speaks to us in the whisperings of conscience and the preaching of his word. Reader, beware lest the message of mercy and salvation should be sent in vain to you.
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Betsy Bartlett and Other Tales (London: The Religious Tract Society, c. 1867), page 52.

THE BIBLE CALENDAR

"I do not know what is the reason," said Harriet, just after she had returned home from a walk with her mother, "but I am not so happy as I expected to be at my new school. Yet our governess is very kind; and as for my schoolfellows, there is not a nicer set of girls anywhere, I am sure."

"Since that is the case," replied her mother, "I should be inclined, if I were you, to suspect that the fault must be in myself."

"I suppose so; and I have tried sometimes to find out what it could be. Will you help me to consider about it, dear mother; and then, if there is anything wrong, I will try to be more watchful over my conduct, that I may be happier next half-year."

"I will gladly give you all the assistance in my power," her mother replied; "and if you are sincere in your self-examination, I doubt not that we shall soon discover the true cause of your dissatisfaction. Tell me, then, in the first instance, if you have experienced any return of your unhappiness since you have been at home."

"Yes, mother; that is the strangest part of it. When first I came back, I was so glad to see you again, that I forgot everything else; but very soon I began to feel restless and discontented in my own mind, though I have everything to please me, and my father and you are satisfied with my improvement. It was just the same at school. When I gained the prize for good conduct, and all the girls said how happy I must be, I felt all the time as if I had not deserved it; and at night I was so sorrowful, that I could not help crying after I was in bed."

"You felt as if you had not deserved the prize. Were you then conscious of faults that were unknown to your governess?"

"Yes, mother, I was indeed; for you will be grieved to hear that I have many bad feelings in my heart, which I had not at my other school-such as selfishness, and envy of my schoolfellows, particularly if they are praised more than I am; and, what is worse than all, I do not like to think about holy things, nor about trying to please God, so well as I used to do."

"Oh! my dear child," said Harriet's mother, sorrowfully, "since you have told me this, we need not inquire any further respecting the cause of your unhappiness. It arises from a guilty and troubled conscience, which cannot let you be at peace. This also accounts for a change which I have remarked with much uneasiness, though I have refrained from naming it till now. When you were at home last holidays, I used to see your Bible and your little Calendar for daily reading lying upon your table, as if they were often used; but this time I have never seen you with the Bible in your hand, and I found your little Calendar among some old, worn-out school-books, in a corner of your trunk, as if it were no longer of use or value."

Harriet looked much ashamed, and shed tears as she replied, "It is true, mother; I do not read my chapters now: for, soon after I went to school, when the girls found out what I was doing, they made such game of me that I could not go on."

"No doubt their ridicule would be very painful to you," said her mother; "but did you pray, my dear, that you might be enabled to do your duty under every trial; and did you remember that awful declaration of our Savior, ‘Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels.' Mark 8:38."

"No, mother, I did not," said Harriet; "but at school we have so little time, and so few opportunities of being alone, that, though I do not wish to excuse my fault, yet it is very difficult to do always as I ought; and I do not find that these things are made of so much importance as at my other school."

"I am very sorry that this should be the case," replied her mother; "but your way of duty is plain. You must endeavor to do the will of God under all circumstances, and he will give you strength for it, if you ask him with all your heart, and for the sake of his dear Son. I will myself speak to your governess upon the subject, and request that you may have time and opportunity for reading and retirement; but do not forget, my dear, that even amidst the engagements of the school-room you may secretly lift up your thoughts to your Savior, and implore his blessing. Words are not necessary to make known to him the desire of the heart. I am thankful to perceive that you have an awakened conscience. Do not resist its warnings, nor try to silence its reproaches; but humbly seek for pardon through the atoning blood that was shed for you, and thus you will regain the peace with God, and that happy state of mind which sin and the neglect of duty have for the present interrupted and destroyed."

Harriet went back to school with good resolutions, which, it is hoped, were not made in dependence on her own strength; and I must not omit to add, that she procured a new Biblical Calendar, which she packed carefully with her Bible, having made a firm determination to consult it every day.
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Betsy Bartlett and Other Tales (London: The Religious Tract Society, c. 1867), page 46.

THE MISSIONARY'S FATHER by William Goodell

A LETTER FROM REV. WILLIAM GOODELL.
CONSTANTINOPLE, August 18, 1843.

MY DEAR BROTHER-The intelligence contained in your letter was not unexpected. Our father had attained to a great age, lacking only five days of being eighty-six years old. He was full of days, but more full of faith and of the Holy Ghost. How long he had "borne the image of the earthly" before he was renewed in the spirit of his mind, I know not; but I know he had long borne "the image of the heavenly."

Though I can look back some forty-five years or more, I cannot look back to the year when he was not living a life of faith, and prayer, and self-denial-of deadness to the world, and of close walk with God. This was the more remarkable, as in the church of which in those days he was a member, there was scarcely one individual who could fully sympathize with him in his religious views. Those great evangelical doctrines of the gospel, which his own minister never preached, and his own church never adopted into her creed, were his meat and drink. "The raven, though an unclean bird, brought food to Elijah," was a common expression of his on returning from church, where he had been able to pick out of much chaff a few crumbs of the bread of life. His privileges were few; prayer-meetings were unknown; the sum total, or about the sum total of his library, was the family Bible, one copy of Watts' Psalms and Hymns, Doddridge's Rise and Progress, Pike's Cases of Conscience, the second volume of Fox's Book of Martyrs, and the Assembly's Catechism.

But though his means of grace were thus limited, yet, meditating day and night on God's law, his roots struck deep; and he was like a tree planted by the rivers of water, whose leaf is always green, and whose fruit is always abundant. Whoever saw him riding on horseback would, if he kept himself concealed, be almost sure to see him engaged in prayer. Whoever should work with him, in seed-time or harvest, would find his thoughts as actively employed above, as his hands were below. Whoever of the Lord's people met him, by day or by night, at home or abroad, alone or in company, would find him ready to sit down with them in heavenly places, in order to comprehend "what is the length, and breadth, and depth, and height" of the love of Christ.

Being the youngest of the family, you can have but an indistinct recollection of the small house on the side of the hill, containing two small rooms and a garret, floored with loose and rough boards, where twelve of us were born; and of the small clump of apple-trees before the door, where your elder brothers and sisters played in the days of their thoughtless childhood. There, with no lock to any door, and no key to any trunk, or drawer, or cupboard; there, where, as I am told, nothing now remains but an old cellar, which may even itself, long before this, have been filled up; there our godly father prayed for us with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit; there, on every Sabbath-eve, he asked us those solemn, important, and all-comprehensive questions from the catechism; and there, with eyes and heart raised to heaven, we used to sing to the tune of old Rochester,

"God, my supporter and my hope,
My help for ever near;
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair."

And there, too, our mother, of precious memory-though, as she died when you were but six months old, you remember her not-there she lived a life of poverty, patience, meekness, and faith. There she used to sit and card her wool by the light of the pine-knot, and sing to us those sweet words,

"Hov'ring among the leaves, there stands
The sweet celestial Dove;
And Jesus on the branches hangs
The banner of his love."

And there, too, almost thirty-four years ago, we assembled early one morning in her little bed-room to see her die. Her peace was like a river; she was full of triumph; and she was able to address to us words of heavenly consolation till she had actually crossed over into shallow water within one minute of the opposite banks of the Jordan-heaven and all its glories full in view. Precious woman, "Were my children but pious," thou didst often say in thy last long sickness, "how cheerfully could I leave them, and go away." But what thine eyes were not permitted to behold, have not the angels long since told thee-that the eight children thou didst leave behind, with all, or all but one of their partners, were partakers of that blessed gospel "which was all thy salvation, and all thy desire;" and that three of thy sons were engaged in proclaiming it to others? Yes, God hath heard thy prayers, and "hath remembered his holy covenant," as we are all witnesses this day.

But before I close, I must say something more of the early habits and character of our venerable father. The little farm he once possessed, if it were not all ploughed over, was, I am confident, almost every foot of it prayed over. And some dried apples from it, which a subsequent owner sent me a few years since, were to me "as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed." He was full of the millennium and of the missionary spirit, long before the existence of the present missionary societies ; praying daily for both Jews and Gentiles-saying with the Psalmist, "Let the people praise thee, O God; let the people praise thee, all of them"-and like his uncle Solomon Goodell, was ready and desirous to contribute something for the spread of the glorious gospel long before he had an opportunity for so doing.

He served three years in the revolutionary war; and I was struck with the fact you communicated of its being early on the morning of the memorable fourth of July, amidst the roaring of cannon, that he slept in peace. And though to his children he left no inheritance, no, not so much as one cent, yet, in his godly example and prayers, he has left them the very richest legacy which any father ever bequeathed his children.

It is a rare privilege we have all enjoyed in being descended from such parents. They were the children of the great King. They belonged to the royal family. Their names were on the catalogue of princes, and of those that live for ever. They daily walked abroad with the conscious dignity of heirs to a great estate, even an incorruptible inheritance. And they have now gone to sit down with Christ on his throne. "And they shall hunger no more, neither shall they thirst any more." I love to look back and see how, with no ambitious aspirings after worldly gain, or pleasure, or honor, they humbly walked with God; how from day to day they deliberately sought, both for themselves and for their children, first of all, "the kingdom of God and his righteousness;" and how in this scoffing world they were so united to Christ as apparently to have no separate interest or existence-it not being so much "they that lived, as Christ living in them."

It was doubtless a mercy to them, that they never at any time possessed much of this world's goods, and were at times reduced to great straits: and a mercy to us, that we had to bear the yoke in our youth, and often to make our meal of salt and potatoes; and I have often found it in my heart to bless God for all his dealings with them and with us. And why should we be anxious to leave our children any other inheritance than was left to us? If we leave them this, and they avail themselves of it, then, though we be dead, they shall still have a Father who will provide for them, and take care of them, and bless them, and make them happy for ever.

And is our father gone, who prayed for us so much? Let us be thankful that the great Intercessor "everliveth to make intercession for us;" and more than ever, let us avail ourselves of his mediation and atonement, of his grace and strength, and of his righteousness and Spirit; and more than ever, let us now pray for ourselves and for all our brothers and sisters. And is our father dead? Let us arise and give thanks to God that good men may die. Let us give special thanks that our father and mother are no longer in this world of sin and sorrow. And let us be more careful than ever to "be followers of those who, through faith and patience, are now inheriting the promises," being sinners saved by grace alone.