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At times she talked of death as though she was going to take a journey of pleasure, and would mention the names of relatives she would see who had died happy in the Lord. “ Above all," she would say, “I shall see Jesus.” One day when in much pain, her mother said, “My dear, your sufferings are great." “Yes, mother, but what is it all to what Jesus suffered for me. On the Saturday night before her death her father and brothers going to her for their good-night kiss, she put her arms around the neck of each one, and requested them to meet her in heaven. Her mother, kissing her face, said, “Oh, this poor face how cold it is!" She replied, “Well, what does it matter, it will not be for long; it will soon be over. Í shall soon be safe in the arms of Jesus, safe on His gentle breast." And then she said, “ Oh, I am so happy, so happy.” After this she bad not the power to speak, only in broken sentences scarcely to be understood. She was, however, conscious to the last. For some time she had not been able to move her left hand. A few minutes before she died, her mother, bending over her, whispered in her ear "Jesus,” to which she moved her head, and with something like supernatural strength waved her left hand above her head three times as a token of victory. Thus our young friend passed away on Sunday morning, September 10, 1876, aged fifteen years and a balf, leaving a blessed testimony behind her that she has gone to be with Jesus.

HENRY ROBINSON Was the second son of Wm. and Hannah Robinson. He was born July 10th, 1862, near Ripon. As a child he was blessed with an amiable disposition and pleasing manners.

These endeared him to his parents, and made him a favourite in the circle of his friends. He was led by bis parents to the house of God. While there he was quiet and attentive, as some thought beyond what might be expected from one so young. He connected himself with our Sunday school at South Stockton when worshipping in the Temperance Hall. Here be was respectful to his teachers, and attentive to their instructions. His progress in learning was highly satisfactory, and the blessed truths he heard respecting the mercy and love of God had a sweet and powerful influence on his mind.

We do not wish to intimate that Henry was without faults or failings, but they were not very prominent in his conduct, nor were they very numerous ; yet they were sufficient under the teachings of the Holy Spirit to show him that he needed a Saviour; and such a Saviour he found in the Lord Jesus Christ.

But one who was bidding fair to be a loving disciple of Jesus, a labourer in the Church, and an ornament to his family was destined not to remain long on earth. The cherished hopes of his parents were doomed to disappointment.

" Their own sweet child,

Gem of their hearth, their household pride," carried as with a flood,” so arly, so suddenly, he “ By the roadside fell, and perished on the threshold march of life." But

“Oh, weep not, though the beautiful decay,

Secure beneath the earth the snow-drop lies,

Waiting the springs young resurrection morn." The death of our dear young friend was indeed sudden and unexpected, and no event could have occurred to illustrate more strikingly the

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warning " Boast not thyself of to-morrow.” Scarcely had the echoes of
his morning prayer died away, than the messenger came. Leaving home
at six o'clock in the morning, to labour for the bread which perisheth, full
of life and vigour, by seven o'clock he was no more. On the 14th of August,
1876, in the fifteenth year of bis age, the summons came, and his joyful
spirit winged its flight to the paradise of God, to feast for ever
trea of life.”

His mortal remains were interred in the cemetry by the superintendent of the school, whither he was followed by members, teachers, scholars, and friends.

“Death cannot come to him untimely who is fit to die;
The less of this cold world the more of heaven;

The briefer life, the longer immortality,”
Pious teachers here see that some fruit of their toil is safely gathered
home, and find an inducement to renewed labour in this holy sphere. His
death was improved by the writer in Ebenezer Chapel, South Stockton,
to a large and weeping congregation. We hope this visitation will prove
a blessing to the friends he has left behind, and that they will prepare to
meet him in the skies.

MARY MANSELL, the eldest daughter of John and Sarah Mansell, of
Copesthorne, Cheshire, was born on the 18th December, 1865, and crossed
the River on the 28th January, 1877.

Like Timothy, early in life she was taught to read the Holy Scriptures
and love the Bible above all other books. She walked in the procession
when the foundation-stone was laid of Hawthorn Street Chapel, Wilmslow,
and remained a scholar in the school. Every Christmas Day she took a
very active part in the recitations and singing.
Her illness was short, but very severe.

Mr. Births went to see her, and asked if she would not like to go to heaven. She paused—in her usual way, as she was always very cautious in giving answer quickly—at last she said, “I do not know." A little while after he was gone she said to her grandmother, “I should like to live a little longer, and then go to heaven ; but, grandmother, I am not afraid to die ; Jesus is with me. They will so miss me in my Sunday school class; but give my love to the scholars and my dear teacher, and tell her I am going to be for ever with the Lord."

As several portions of Scripture were read to her, among which were the tenth and fourteenth chapters of St. John's Gospel, her lips would be

In the midst of her sufferings she was calm and patient, but on one occasion she did

вау, Oh, it is hard work!" Some of her favourite hymns were “Safe in the arms of Jesus," “Sweet hour of prayer,” “ Lead me to Jesus,” and others.

When near her end her grandmother asked her if she felt Jesus precious. She smiled, and answered “ Yes." Just at the end of her journey, with a sweet but feeble voice, she said, “I am coming, mother," "I am coming, mother," " I am coming, mother," and very soon

Her mother had died six years ago, and Mary, with her little sister, were taken to the house of prayer by their grandfather and grandmother. She hoped her father, her relatives, and friends and scholars would meet her again in heaven, where partings are no more.

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after passed away;

AN INDUSTRIOUS GIRL. In Liverpool certificates and prizes are given to children of the board schools for regular attendance. Among the girls in one school to whom a certificate was awarded was one especially deserving of notice. We introduce her to the acquaintance of our readers that they may be stimulated to imitate such an excellent example. The name of this girl is Elizabeth Ann Cross, and she is thirteen years

of age. She lived a distance of three miles from the school, and during the year attended every time the school was open, making in all 455 attendances. This necessitated her walking during the year no less a distance than 1322 miles. A perseverance like this is deserving all praise, and the reward she obtained from the Council of Education, everyone will admit, was well-merited.




In speaking of a person's faults,

Pray don't forget your own;
Remember those with homes of glass

Should seldom throw a stone;
If we have nothing else to do

Tban talk of those who sin,
'Tis better to commence at home,

And from that point begin.
We have no right to judge a man

Until he's fairly tried ;
Should we not like his company

We know the world is wide.
Some may have faults-and who has not !

The old as well as young ;
Perhaps we may, for aught we know,

Have fifty to their one.
I'll tell you of a better plan,

And find it works full well;
To try my own defects to cure

Ere others' faults I tell;
And though I hope some time to be

No worse than some I know,
My own shortcomings bid me let

The faults of others go.
Then let us all when we begin

To slander friend or foe,
Think of the harm one word may do

To those we little know.
Remember—curses sometimes, like

Our chickens, “roost at home;"
Don't speak of others' faults until

We have none of our own.

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UR childhood was spent in the country, and such

is our remembrance of the pleasure we then felt in
rambling through the fields and gathering flowers, that
we are almost sorry for boys and girls who can never

wander beyond the precincts of a town. How happy the little group of children look in the picture we give this month! There they are in the pleasant sunshine, breathing the fresh, sweet air, and stringing together the buttercups and daisies they have gathered in such profusion. Their hearts are full of innocent joy, though perhaps they never think how happy they are. unconscious blessedness they revel in, but it makes them think the earth is a paradise, and no doubt they would like to live in it for

This is the experience we all pass through if our infancy and childhood are what our kind Creator meant them to be. Like our first parents we start life in a garden, though, like them, we are sure in the end to get into the wilderness. But we do not care so much about telling children this, they will learn the truth soon enough without grown-up people helping them to anticipate it. We like to see young children happy, and with us it is a religious duty to make them happy, not in a sensational, but a simple, natural way. We think it the best way to make children good-that is, when it is accompanied with proper teaching and discipline. We hope all our grown-up readers are of the same opinion as ourselves on this subjecte Then, if we cannot take our little ones into the fields that there they may pluck flowers and make garlands of them, we can do our best to make home a garden where sweet-scented flowers grow, and delicious fruit is found, and birds delightfully sing.

By Tom Brown, Author of "A Year at School," 8;C., SC.

Letter No. 30.

Worcester, June 21st, 187
My Dear FATHER, —

Please excuse this paper. I have torn it out of an old copy-book.

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