wean. My darling babe !—they ca'me a fule to greet for her-that's nae faut o' mine. I ken I'm a fuleI was a fule a' my days-but I wad be waur than the beasts of the field gin I could lose the wee lamb, my wee pet lamb, that sleepit in my bosom, that ate the half of my morsel, and got its bits o'claes frae aff my ain back-oh, what wad I be gin I could hae her reaved frae me and no sorrow for her!"

Simon did his best to soothe the poor creature, and asked her when the child had been taken away, and by whom. She replied that after her little innocent had been about six years with her she had determined to send her to school, for which purpose she saved three-halfpence a-week to pay for teaching her in a neighbouring village, where she came on quickly with her learning; and, after she could read, by the help of some good ladies she was enabled to continue her at school to learn writing and sewing. She gaed awa to the schule as usual," continued Jenny, "this day eight days, wi' her bit bread and cheese for her dinner tied in a napkin, but cam na back at night; and whan it began to grow dark I ran, like ane wud, to the maister's house, but before I got breath to speak, 'What's come o' your bit lassie the day, Janet?' · quo' he; 'she never played the truant afore.' Wi' that, Maister Simon, my head span roun', and there was a weary sough in my lugs, and I kenna what came owre me. The schulemaister and his wife were unco kind to me, and sent a' gates to seek after my wee woman; but naething can we hear, for certain, but that the day she was ta'en awa the scriechs o' a bairn were heard out o' a covered cart travelling Glasgow-ward. Folk tell me its a sin to greet, and that it's a mercy that I'm quat o' a fremd bairn that cost me sae muckle; but och, och! that's a' they ken! You, Maister Si

mon, and maist ither folk, hae a weel-plenished house, wi' bairns or frien's o' your ain to make a canty fireside. But what had I? Naething but my wee lamb! Wha cares for auld haverel Jenny? No ane but her ain sweet bairn. She kent na and cared na whether I was daft or wise; I was kind to her when she had nae ither friend. When her father and her mother forsook her, she was given to me, and she gave me a' the love o' her wee warm kind heart. I looked to her as the staff o' my auld age, ane that would mak my bed, and haud my head when I was deeing, and close my een when I was dead! but I'm my lane now! My house is cauld and dark, and silent like a grave! My wee lamb, wee happy smilin' lamb, that was aye playing about my han', and makin' my puir rafters ring wi' her glee-whare is she now? I wish I were dead! but she's awa that would greet on my grave, and there's no ane left in the world to say waes me' when I'm laid i' the mouls!"

Simon stood silent for a long time, while the poor creature continued to sob and cry; and, when he did speak, all he said had little effect in abating her grief, and we could only hope that its violence would wear it out. There she sat with her apron thrown over her head, and her whole frame shook by the heavy fetches of her breath. So, after laying a memorial of our good-will upon her wheel, we trudged on, much affected with this instance of the superior value of the humblest capacity united to good temper and the sincere desire to be useful and charitable-even in a rank of life but one degree above beggary-to the most splendid talents without goodness of heart and sound principles.

"Truly," said Simon, "the worth of this poor woman is very great. When we consider how much

CONSEQUENCES OF DISREGARDING THE SABBATH. 111

would be thought of an individual or family, in a high rank and with means incomparably superior to hers, should they take in, clothe, feed, and educate a stray child, what is due to this poor creature for doing the same?—when we consider that every morsel put in the child's mouth was saved off her own stinted meal, and every stitch of clothes it wore was, as she said just now, taken from her own back, and how hard, late and early, she must have worked to procure even the additional pittance to pay her schooling! Oh! we may rely upon it, however this poor weak creature may be thought of here, she will be remembered up yonder," said the good man, raising his dark eyes glistening to heaven; "poor Janet, and her humble worth, will be remembered when many a splendid deed, which received the applause of multitudes here below, is forgotten, or obscured in gloom." Scenes of Real Life."

Correspondence Bepartment.

CONSEQUENCES OF DISREGARDING THE
SABBATH.

To the Editor of " The Females' Advocate."

MR. EDITOR,

It is not my intention to trouble you with a lengthened dissertation in order to show that the existence of true piety is greatly dependent on the observance of the Sabbath, but to mention a case which came under my own notice illustrative of this position. Some time since I was called to attend the death-bed of a young woman, who was a native of Trowbridge in Wiltshire. She was sent by her parents, who

were industrious people, though unhappily destitute of true religion, to a Sabbath school, where she attracted the notice and regard of her teachers by her steadiness and attention to their instructions. After leaving the Sabbath school she went to service, and lived in the family of a respectable baker in Westbury. Here however she was seduced by a fellowservant, the consequence of which was that she was sent to the poor-house, where she prematurely gave birth to an infant, which died. It was soon after this that I was called in to visit her. She appeared quite insensible of her danger both as regards this world and the next. I spoke to her of the kindness and love of God in sending his Son into the world to die for sinners, but she appeared unmoved by all that I could urge on this ground, though an allusion to the care and attention of her Sunday-school teachers seemed to touch a chord that vibrated through her soul. The next morning at an early hour I was summoned to her bed-side. I remember the morning well. It was in the month of February; but the sun had risen in unclouded glory, and the scenery around seemed gay and joyous, in striking contrast with the gloomy and cheerless interior of the poor-house to which I was hastening. Harriet was dying; her mother and sister were weeping at her side, the other inmates moving "with measured steps and slow." Poor Harriet's pains were acute and even excruciating. I spoke to her, but although quite sensible she was incapable of conversing. When I asked her whether I should pray with her, her reply was, "Not now, not now!" Soon after she became delirious, and whilst in that state was called into the presence of her Maker. Thus died, in her seventeenth year, one who whilst in the Sabbath school bade fair to become an ornament to

society and to tread the path to heaven. It appears that after she went to service she never frequented the house of God, and, deprived of the means of grace, her religious impressions were soon weakened and destroyed and she was rendered an easy prey to the seducer, who perhaps still lives to reflect, if he be capable of reflecting, on the miserable consequences of his depravity.

It is no uncommon thing for servants to be prevented from attending upon the public worship of God and listening to the gospel of salvation. I remember one poor abandoned girl, on whose behalf I exerted myself to some extent, who told me that when at service her mistress would never allow her to attend, alleging that she did not see what servants wanted at church.

Now, Mr. Editor, it strikes me that you would be just labouring in your vocation as "The Females' Advocate" if you would tell these mistresses what if they know they certainly do not remember-that their servant maids have souls as well as they, and that both must die and both appear, perhaps together, at the judgment-seat of Christ. I am afraid that their present ideas about the sabbath, and the importance of observing it for holy purposes, are very different indeed from what they will then be. Our divine Master certainly assures us that "The sabbath was made for man," employing the most comprehensive form of expression, to intimate that it was designed for the benefit of the whole species. The sabbath was made, not for those of one nation, or one age, or one climate, or one class of society, but for the human family in all its universality and perpetuity, in all its generations, and in every grade. Nor would it be difficult to show that it is essential to the well-being