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Group Title: Religious tracts ; no. 61
Title: The history of little Jane
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002081/00001
 Material Information
Title: The history of little Jane
Series Title: Religious tracts
Physical Description: 28 p. : ; 20 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Episcopal Female Tract Society of Philadelphia ( Publisher )
Society of the Protestant Episcopal Church for the Advancement of Christianity in Pennsylvania
Stavely & McCalla ( Printer )
Publisher: Published by the "Episcopal Female Tract Society of Philadelphia," for the "Society of the Protestant Episcopal Church for the Advancement of Christianity in Pennsylvania"
Stavely & McCalla>
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Philadelphia
Publication Date: 1850
 Subjects
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children -- Religious life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Publishers' paper bindings (Binding) -- 1850   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1850
Genre: Publishers' paper bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
 Notes
General Note: Cover title.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002081
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002250972
oclc - 45410653
notis - ALK2732
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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Content
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





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A PROFLIGATE YOUTH.


A pious and venerable father had a vain and profligate
son; often had he reasoned and expostulated with him,
mingling tenderness with advice, and tears with remon-
strance, but all was ineffectual. Bad company and vicious
habits rendered the unhappy youth deaf to instructions.
At last a fatal disorder seized his aged parent, who calling
his son to him, entreated him with his dying breath, that he
would grant him one small favor, the promise of which
would alleviate the pangs of dissolving nature. It was
this,-that his son would retire to his chamber half an hour
every day for some months after his decease. He pre-
scribed no particular subject to employ his thoughts, but
left that to himself.
A request so simple and easy, urged by parental affection
from the couch of death, was not to be denied. The youth
pledged his honor for the fulfilment of his promise; and,
when he became an orphan, punctually performed it. At
first he was not disposed to improve the minutes of solitude,
but in time various reflections arose in his mind; the world
was withdrawn; his conscience awoke; it reproved him
for having slighted a parent who had done so much for his
welfare; it renewed the impression of his dying scene; it
gradually pointed him to a supreme Cause, a future judg-
ment, and a solemn eternity. God was pleased to sanctify
these solitary moments, and to strengthen his convictions.
Retirement effected what advice could not do, and a real
and permanent change took place. He quitted his com-
panions, and reformed his conduct; virtue and piety filled
up the rest of his days, and stamped sincerity on his repent-
ance. To say all in a word-he lived and died a Christian.

A CHAPLAIN-OCCASIONAL PREACHING.
Some years ago, a vessel, which was blessed with a pious
chaplain, and was bound to a distant part of the world, hap-
pened to be detained by contrary winds, over a Sabbath, at
the Isle of Wight. The chaplain improved the opportunity
topreach to the.inhabitants. His text was, Be clothed with
humility." Among his hearers was a thoughtless girl, who
had come to show her fine dress, rather than to be instructed.
The sermon was the means of her conversion. Her name
was Elizabeth Wallbridge, the celebrated Dairyman's
Daughter, whose interesting history, by the late Rev; Legh
Richmond, has been printed in various languages and wide-
ly circulated, to the spiritual benefit of thousands. What a
reward was this for a single sermon preached" out of season."


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I.
RELIGIOUS TRACTS-NO. 61.

PU WISHED BY
"THE EPISCOPAL FEMALE TRACT SOCIETY OF PHILADELPHIA"
TOE
"Taz SocrETr or TIr, OTESTAIT EPISCOPAL CHURCH. OR TUa
ADVANCEMENT O6P. IlISTIANITT IN PENNSYLVANIA."


f THE
HISTORY OF LITTLE JANE.

Ja S- S-.- Ias the daughter of poor parents, in the
i-ll wih'ere it pleased God first to cast my lot in the
:hmiist:.r. Mry acquaiitarnce with her commenced when
She was twelve years of age, by her weekly attendance
at my house, amongst a number of children whom I in-
vited and regularly instructed every Saturday afternoon.
They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns,
and portions of Scripture. I accustomed them also to
pass a kind of free conversational examination, accord-
ing to their age and ability, in those subjects by which
I hoped to see them made wise unto salvation.
On the summer evenings I frequently used to assem-
ble this little group out of doors in my garden, sitting
under the shade of some trees, which protected us from
the heat of the sun. From hence, a scene appeared which
rendered my occupation the more interesting. For ad-
joining the spot where we sat, and only separated from
us by a fence, was the church-yard, surrounded with
beautiful prospects in every direction.
There lay deposited the mortal remains of thousands,
who, from age to age, in their different generations, had
been successively committed to the grave, "earth to
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Here the once
famed ancestors of the rich, and the less known fore-
fathers of the poor, lay mingling their dust together, and
alike waiting the 'rsurrection from the dead.
ILhad not far to look for subjects of waruing.and ex-
hortation suitable to my little flock of-lambs-tthat 1 was
feeding. I could point to the heaving sods that marked







the different graves, and separated them from each
other, and tell my pupils, that, young as they were, none
of them were too young to die; and that probably more
than half of the bodies which were buried there, were
those of little children. I hence took occasion to speak
of the nature and value of a soul, and to ask them where
they expected their souls to go when they departed
hence, and were no more seen on earth.
I told them who was "the resurrection and the life,"
and who alone could take away the sting of death. I
used to remind them that the hour was coming, in
the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice,
and shall come forth; they that have done good unto the
resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto
the resurrection of damnation." I often availed my-
self of these opportunities to call to their recollection
the more recent deaths of their own relatives, that lay
buried so near us. Some had lost a parent, others a
brother or sister; some perhaps had lost all these, and
were committed to the mercy of their neighbours, as
fatherless and motherless orphans. Such circumstances
were occasionally useful to excite tender emotions, fa-
vourable to serious impression.
Sometimes I sent the children to the various stones
which stood at the head of the graves, and bid them
earn the epitaphs inscribed upon them. I took pleasure
in seeing the little ones thus dispersed in the church-
yard, each committing to memory a few verses written in
commemoration of the departed. They would soon ac-
complish the desired object, and eagerly return to me,
ambitious to repeat their task.
Thus my churmt-yard became a kind of book of in-
struction, and every grave-stone a leaf of edification for
my young disciples.
The church itself stood in the midst of the ground.
It was a spacious antique structure. Within those very
walls I first proclaimed the message of God to sinners.
As these children surrounded me, I sometimes pointed
to the church, spoke to them of the nature of public
worship, the value of the Sabbath, the duty of regular
attendance on its services, and urged their serious atten-
tion to the means of grace. I showed them the sad state
,f many countries, where neither churches nor Bibles
were known, and the no less melancholy condition of








multitudes at home, whd sinfully neglect worship, and
. light the Word of God. I thus tried to make them
sensible qf their own favours and privileges.
Little Jane used cbinstaLly to appear on these weekly
.seasons of instruction. I made no very particular ob-
jservations concerning her during the first twelve months
-or more after her commencement of attendance. She
was not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. On
the whole, I used io think her rather more slow of ap-
prehension than mpst of her companions. She usually
repeated her tasks correctly, but was seldom able to
make answers to questions for which she was not pre-
viously prepared with replies-a kind of extemporary
examination in which some of the children excelled.
Her countenance was not engaging, her eye discovered
no remarkable liveliess. She read tolerably well, took
pains, and improved in it.
Mildness and quietness marked her general demean-
our. She was very constant in her attendance on public
worship at the church, as well as on my Saturday in-
struction at home. .But, generally speaking, sho was
little noticed, except for her regular and orderly con-
duct. Had I then been asked, of which of my young
scholars I had formed the most favourable opinion, poor
Jane might probably have been omitted in the list.
How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing
in other people's hearts What poor calculators and
judges we frequently prove, till he opens our eyes "His
thoughts are not our thoughts; neither are our ways his
ways."
Once indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was
struck with her ready attention to -my wishes. I had,
agreeably to the plan above mentioned, sent her into the
church-yard to commit to memory an epitaph which I
admired. On her return, she told me, that, in addition
to what I had desired, she had also learned another,
which was inscribed on an adjoining stone; adding, that
she thought it a very pretty one.
I thought so too, and perhaps my readers will be of
the same opinion. Little Jane, though dead, yet shall
speak. While I transcribe the lines, I can powerfully
imagine that I hear her voice repeating them.






EPITAIPH ON MRS. A. B.
Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear,
-That mourns thy exit from a world like this:
Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here,
And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss.
No more confin'd to grov'ling scenes of night,
No more a tenant pent in mortal clay,
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight,
And trace thy journey to the realms of day.
The above was her appointed task; and the other,
which she voluntarily learned and spoke of with plea-
sure, is this:
EPITAPH ON MR. B.
On the Stone adjoining.
It must be so-Our father Adam'sTfall,
And disobedience, brought this lot on all.
All die in him-But hopeless should we be,
Blest revelation! were it not for thee.
Hail, glorious gospel! heavenly light, whereby
We live with comfort, and with comfort die;
And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb,
A life of endless happiness to come.
I afterwards discovered that the sentiment expressed
in the latter epitaph had much affected her. But at the
period of this little incident, I knew nothing of her
mind. I had comparatively overlooked her. I have often
been sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke
me, when I afterwards discovered what the Lord had
been doing for her soul. I seemed to have neglected her;
yet it was not done designedly. She was unknown to us
all; except that, as I since found out, her regularity, and
abstinence from the sins and follies of her young equals
in age and station, brought upon her many taunts and
jeers from others, which she bore very meekly. But at
that time I knew it not.
It was about fifteen months from the first period of
her attendance on my Saturday school, when I missed
her from her customary place. Two or three weeks had
gone by, without my making any particular inquiry re-
specting her. I was at length informed that she was not
well. But, apprehending no peculiar cause for alarm,
nearly two months passed away without any farther men-
tion of her name being made.
At length a poor old woman in the village, of whose








religious disposition I had formed a good opinion, came
and said to me, "Sir, have not you missed Jane S-
at your house on Saturday afternoons?"
"Yes," I replied; "I believe she is not well."
Nor ever will be, I fear," said the woman.
"What! do you apprehend any danger in the case?"
"' Sir, she is very poorly indeed, and I think is in a
decline. She wants to see you, sir, but is afraid you
would not cornm to see such a poor young child as she
is."
"Not go where poverty and sickness may call me?
how can she imagine so? At which house does she live?"
Sir, it is a poor place, and she is ashamed to ask you
to come there. Her neighbours are noisy, wicked peo-
ple. They all make game at poor Jane, because she
reads her Bible so much."
Do not tell me about poor places and wicked people;
that is the very situation where a minister of the gospel
is called to do the most good. I shall go to see her; you
may let her know my intention."
"I will, sir; I go on most days to speak to her, and it
does one's heart good to hear her talk."
"Indeed !" said I: "what does she talk about ?"
"Talk about, poor child! why, nothing but good
things; such as the Bible, and Jesus Christ, and life, and
death, and her soul, and heaven, and hell, and your dis-
courses, and the books you used to teach her, sir. Many
scoff at her, and say, they suppose Jane counts herself
better than other folks. But she does not mind all that.
She will read her books, and then talk so pretty to her
mother, and beg that she would think about her soul."
"The Lord forgive me," thought I, "for not being
more attentive to this poor child's case." I seemed to
feel the importance of youthful instruction more than
ever I had done before, and felt a rising hope that this
girl might prove a kind of first-fruits of my labours.
I now recollected her quiet, orderly, diligent attend-
ance on our little weekly meetings; and her marked ap-
probation of the epitaph, as related above, rushed into
my thoughts. I hope, I really hope," said I, this dear
child will prove a true child of God. And if so, what a
mercy to her, and what a mercy for me !"
The next morning Iwent to see the child. Her dwell-
ing was of the humblest kind.
AS








Jane was in bed up stairs. I found no one in the house
with her, except the woman who had brought me the
message on the evening before. The instant I looked on
the girl, I perceived a very marked change in her coun-
tenance; it had acquired the consumptive hue, both white
and red. A delicacy, unknown to it before, quite sur-
prised me, owing to the alteration it produced in her
look. She received me first with a very sweet smile, and
then instantly burst into a flood of tears, just sobbing
out,
"I am so glad to see you, sir."
"I am very much concerned at your being so ill, my
child, and grieved that I was not sooner aware of your
state. But I hope the Lord designs it for your good."
Her eye, not her tongue, powerfully expressed, "I hope
and think he does."
Well, my poor child, since you can no longer come
to see me, I will come and see you, and we will talk over
the subjects which I have been used to explain to you."
Indeed, sir, I shall be so glad."
"That I believe she will," said the woman; for she
loves to talk of nothing so much as what she has heard
you say in your sermons, and in the books you have
given her."
"Are you really desirous, my dear child, to be a true
Christian ?"
0 yes, yes, sir, I am sure I desire that above all
things."
I was astonished and delighted at the earnestness and
simplicity with which she spoke these words.
"Sir," added she, I have been thinking as I lay on
my bed for many weeks past, how good you are to in-
struct us poor children; what m-ust become of us with-
out it ?"
"I am truly glad to perceive that my instructions have
not been lost upon you, and pray God that this your pre-
sent sickness may be an instrument of blessing in his
hands to prove, humble, and sanctify you. My dear
child, you have a soul, an immortal soul to think of; you
remember what I have often said to you about the value
of a soul: What would it profit a man to gain the whole
world, and lose his own soul ?' "
Yes, sir, I remember well you told us, that when our







bodies are put into the'grave, our souls will then go
either to the good or the bad place."
"And to which of these places do you think that, as
a sinner in the sight of God, you deserve to go ?"
"To the bad one, sir."
SWhat, to everlasting destruction ?"
"Yes, sir."
Why so ?"
"Because I am a great sinner."
"And must all great sinners go to hell ?"
"They all deserve it; and I am sure I do."
But is there no way of escape ? Is there noway for
a great sinner to be saved ?"
"Yes, sir; Christ is the Saviour."
"And whom does he save?"
"All believers."
"And do you believe in Christ yourself?"
I do not know, sir; I wish I did; but I feel that I
love him."
What do you love him for ?"
Because he is good to poor children's souls like
mine."
What has he done for you ?"
He died for me, sir; and what could he do more ?"
"And what do you hope to gain by his death ?"
"A good place when I die, if I believe in him, and
love him."
"Have you felt any uneasiness on account of your
soul ?"
0 yes, sir, a great deal. When you used to talk
to us children on Saturdays, I often felt as if I could
hardly bear it, and wondered that others could seem so
careless. I thought I was not fit to die. I thought of
all the bad things I had ever done and said, and believed
God must be very angry with me; for you often told us,
that God would not be mocked; and that Christ said,if
we were not converted we could riot go to heaven. Some-
times I thought I was so young that it did not signify:
rnd then again it seemed to me a great sin to think so:
for I knew I was old enough to see what was right and
what was wrong; and so God had a just right to be an-
gry when I did wrong. Besides, I could see that my
heart was not.right; and howr could such a heart be fit
for heaven ? Indeed, sir, I used to feel very uneasy."





C 'A.







"My dear Jane, I wish I had known all this before.
Why did you never tell me about it ?"
",Sir, I durst not. Indeed I could not well say what
was the matter with me: and I thought you would look
upon me as very bold if I had spoke about myself to such
a gentleman as you: yet I often wished that you knew
what I felt and feared. Sometimes, as we went away
from your house, I could not help crying; and then the
other children laughed and jeered at me, and said I was
going to be very good they supposed, or at least to make
people think so. Sometimes, sir, I fancied you did not
think so well of me as of the rest, and that hurt me: yet
I knew I deserved no particular favour, because I was
the chief of sinners."
My dear, what made St. Paul say he was the chief
of sinners ? In what verse of the Bible do you find this
expression,' the chief of sinners ?' can you repeat it?"
"'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta-
tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sin-
ners :'-is not that right, sir ?"
"Yes, my child, it is right; and I hope that the same
conviction which St. Paul had at that moment, has made
you sensible of the same truth. Christ came into the
world to save sinners; my dear child, remember now and
for evermore, that Christ came into the world to save
the chief of sinners."
Sir, I am so glad he did. It makes me hope that he
will save me, though I am a poor sinful girl. Sir, I am
very ill, and I do not think I shall ever get well again,
I want to go to Christ if I die."
Go to Christ while you live, my dear child, and he
will not cast you away when you die. He that said,
'Suffer little children to come unto me,' waits to be
gracious to them, and forbids them not."
What made you first think so seriously about the
state of your soul ?"
Your talking about the graves in the church-yard,
and telling us how many young children were buried
there. I remember you said, one day, near twelve months
ago, Children! where will you be a hundred years
hence? Children where do you think you shall go, when'
you die? Children! if you were to die to-night, are you
sure you should go to Christ and be happy ?' Sir, I shall









never forget your saying, 'children,' three times together
in that solemn way."
Did you never before that day feel any desire about
your soul?"
Yes, sir, I think I first had that dcsi re almost as soon
as you began to teach us on SaturJdy afternoons; but on
that day I felt as I never did before. I shall never forget
it. All the way as I went home, and all that night, those
words were in my thoughts: 'Children where do you
think you shall go when you die ?' I thought I must
leave off all my bad ways, or where should I go when I
died ?"
And what effect did these thoughts produce in your
mind ?"
Sir, I tried to live better, and I did leave off many
bad ways; but the more I strove, the more difficult I
found it, my heart seemed so hard; and then I could not
tell any one my case."
"Could not you tell it to the Lord, who hears and an-
swers prayer ?"
My prayers (here she blushed and sighed) are very
poor at the best, and at that time I scarcely knew how
to pray at all, as I ought. But I did sometimes ask the
Lord for a better heart."
There was a character in all this conversation which
marked a truly sincere and enlightened state of mind.
She spoke with all the simplicity of a child, and yet the
seriousness of a Christian. I could scarcely persuade
myself that she was the same girl I had been accustom-
ed to see in past time. Her countenance was filled with
interesting affections, and always spoke much more than
her tongue could utter. At the same time she now pos-
sessed an ease and liberty in speaking, to which she had
formerly been a stranger: nevertheless, she was modest,
humble, and unassuming. Her readiness to converse
was the result of spiritual anxiety, not childish forward-
ness. The marks of a divine change were too promi-
nent to be easily mistaken; and in this very child, I, for
the first time, witnessed the evident testimonies of such
a change. How encouraging, how profitable to my own
soul
Sir," continued little Jane, I had one day been
thinking that 1 was neither fit to live nor die, for I could
find no comfort in this world, and I was sure I deserved




H AjWc






TO
none in the other. On that day you sent me to learn the
verse on Mrs. A. B- 's headstone, and then I read that
on the one next to it."
"I very well remember:it, Jane; you came back, and
repeated them both to me."
There were two lines in it which made me think and
meditate a great deal."
"Which are they ?"
'Hail, glorious gospel, heavenly light, whereby
We live with comfort, and with comfort die.'
I wished that glorious gospel was mine, that I might
live and die with comfort; and it seemed as if I thought
it would be so. I never felt so happy about my soul be-
fore. The words were often in my thoughts,
Live with comfort, and with comfort die.
'Glorious gospel' indeed I thought."
"My dear child, what is the meaning of the wora
gospel ?"
"Good news."
Good news for whom ?"
"For wicked sinners, sir."
Who sends this good news for wicked sinners!"
"The Lord Almighty."
"And who brings this good news ?"
Sir, you brought it to me."
Here my soul melted in an instant, and I could not re-
press the tears which the emotion excited. The last
answer was equally unexpected and affecting. I felt a
father's tenderness and gratitude for a new and first-born
child.
Jane wept likewise.
After a little pause she said,
sir! I wish you would speak to my father, and
mother, and little brother; for I am afraid they are go-
ing on very badly."
"How so?"
Sir, they drink, and swear, and quarrel, and do not
like what is good: and it does grieve me so, I cannot
bear it. If I speak a word to them about it, they are
very angry, and laugh, and bid me be quiet, and not set
up for their teacher. Sir, I am ashamed to tell you this








of them, but I hope it is not wrong; I mean it for their
good."
"I wish your prayers and endeavours for their sake
may be blessed; I will also do what I can."
I then prayed with the child, and promised to visit
her constantly.
When I arrived at Jane's cottage, on a subsequent
morning, I found her in bed, reading Dr. Watts's Hymns
for Children, in which she took great pleasure.
What are you reading this morning, Jane ?"'
"Sir, I have been thinking very much about some
verses in my little book.--Here they arei
'There is an hour when I must die,
Nor do I know how soon 'twill come
A thousand children, young as I,
Are called by death to hear their doom.
'Let me improve the hours I have,
Before the day of grace is fled:
There's no repentance in the grave,
Nor pardon offered to the.dead.'
Sir, I feel all that to be very true, and I am afraid I
do not improve the hours I have as I ought to do. I
think I shall not live very long; and when I remember
my sins, I say,
SLord, at thy foot, asham'd I lie,
Upward I dare not look;
Pardon my sins before I. die,
And blot them from thy book.'
Do you think he will pardon me, sir ?"
4. My dear child, I have-great hopes that he HAs par-
doned you; that he has heard your prayers, and put you
. into the number of his true children already. You have
s .hlad strong proofs of his mercy to your soul,"
Yes, ji, I have; and I wish to love and bless him for
it;' He is gQod, very good."
It.L ad.fd:some time past occurred to my mind, that
se of rutlated conversations on the first principles
would be very desirable from time to time,
t sting child's: sake; and I thought the
a' *isiWFould e a-proper groundwork fir

said I, youqSu B'pebat the Catechism F



4-.k








Yes, sir; but I think that has been one of my sins in
the sight of God."
What I repeating your Catechism ?"
Yes, sir, in such a way as I used to do it."
"How was that ?"
"Very carelessly indeed. I never thought about the
meaning of the words, and that must be very wrong.
Sir, the Catechism is full of good things; I wish I un-
derstood them better."
Well then, my child, we will talk a little about those
good things, which, as you truly say, are contained in
the Catechism. Did you ever consider what it is to be
a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of
the kingdom of heaven ?"
I think, sir, I have lately considered it a good deal;
and I want to be such, not only in name, but in deed and
in truth. You once told me, sir, that,' as the branch is
to the vine, and the stone to the building, and the limb
t3 the body and the head, so is a trite believer to the
Lord Jesus Christ.' But how am I to know that I belong
to Christ as a true member, which you said one day in
the church, means the same as a limb of the body, such
as a leg or an arm ?"
Do you love Christ now in-a way you never used to
do before ?"
Yes, I think so, indeed."
Why do you love him P"
"Because he first loved me."
How do you know that he first loved you P"
"Because he sent me instruction, and made me feel
the sin of my heart, and taught me to pray for pardon,
and love his ways: he sent you to teach me, sir, and to
show me the way to be saved, and now I want to be
saved in that way that he pleases. Sometimes I feel as
if I loved all that he has said and done so much that I
wish never to think about any thing else. I know I did
not use to feel so; and I think if he had not loved me
first, my, wicked heart would never have cared about
him. I once loved any thing better than religion, but
now it is every thing to me."
Do you believe in your heart that Christ is able and
willing to save the chief of sinners ?"
I do."
And what are you ?"






13
"A young, but a great sinner."
."Is it not of his mercy that you know and feel your-
self to be a sinner ?"
"Certainly; yes, it must be so."
'! Do you earnestly desire to forsake all sin ?"
If I know myself,. I do."
"Do you feel a spirit within you, resisting sin, and
making you hate it."
Yes, I hope so."
"Who gave you that spirit ? were you always so ?"
It must be Christ, who loved me and gave himself
Sr-me. I was quite different once."
e '" Now then, my dear Jane, does not all this show a
.onnexion between the Lord Jesus Christ and your soul ?
Boes it not seem as if you lived, and moved, and had a
,spiritual being from him ? Just as a limb is connected
with your body, and so with your head, and thereby gets
power to live and move through the flowing of the blood
"from one to the other: so are you spiritually a lamb or
member of Christ, if you believe in him; and thus ob-
tain, through faith, a power to love him, and live to his
praise and glory. Do you understand me ?"
Yes, sir, I believe I do; and it is very comfortable
to tiy thoughts to look up to Christ as a living head,
and to consider myself as the least and lowest of all his
members."
Now tell me what your thoughts are as to being a
child of God ?"
"I am sure, sir, I do not deserve to be called his child."
.'0.Can you tell me who does deserve it ?"
"I No one, sir."
How then comes any one to be a child of God, when
ture we are all children of wrath ?"
y God's grace, sir."
What does grace mean ?"
aFavour; free favour to sinners."
SRight; and what does God bestow upon the children
rath, when he makes them children of grace-?"
IA death, unto sin, and a new birth unto righteous-
; is it not, sir ?"
:Yes, this is the fruit of Christ's redeeming love:
*:-hope you are a partaker of the blessing. The fa-
f God is named after him, and he is the first-born
any brethren. What a mercy that Christ calls







himself,' a brother!' My little girl, he is your brother,
and will not be ashamed to own you, and present you to-
his Father at the last day, as one that he has purchased
with his blood."
I wish I could love my Father and my Brother which
are in heaven better than I do. Lord, be merciful to me
a sinner; I think, sir, if I am a child of God, I am often
a rebellious one. He shows kindness to me beyond
others, and yet I make a very poor return.
'Are these thy favours, day by day,
To me above the rest?
Then let me love thee more than they,
And strive to serve thee best.'"
That will be the best way to approve yourself a real
child of God. Show your love and thankfulness to such
a Father, who hath prepared for you an inheritance
among the saints in light, and made you an inheritor
of the kingdom of heaven, as well as a member of Christ,
and a child of God.' Do you know what the kingdom
of heaven' means ?"
Just at that instant her mother entered the house be-
low, and began to speak to a younger child in a passion-
ate scolding tone of voice, accompanied by some very
offensive language; but quickly stopped on hearing us
in conversation up stairs.
"Ah, my poor mother!" said the girl, "you would
not have stopped so short if Mr. had not been here.
Sir, you hear how my mother goes on; pray say some-
thing to her; she will not hear me."
SI went towards the stair-head, and called to the woman;
but she suddenly left the house, and for that time escaped
reproof.
"Sir," said little Jane, "I am so afraid, if I go to
heaven, I shall never see my poor mother there. As I
lie here a-bed, sir, for hours together, there is often so
much wickedness, and noise, and quarrelling down be-
low, that I do not know how to bear it. It comes very
near, sir, when one's father and mother go on so. I want
them all to turn to the Lord, and go to heaven.-Tell
me now, sir, something about being an inheritor of the
kingdom of heaven."
"You may remember, my child, what I have told you,
when explaining the Catechism in the church, that the






15
'-ingdom of heaven' in the Scriptures, means the Church
hf ghrist upon earth, as well as the state of glory in
heaven. The one is a preparation for the other. All
true Christians are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with
Christ, and-shall inherit the glory and happiness of his
kingdom, and live with Christ, and be with him for ever.
This is the free gift of God to his adopted children; and
all that believe aright in Christ shall experience the truth
of that promise, It is your Father's good pleasure to
give you the kingdom.' You are a poor girl now, but
I trust, an entrance shall be ministered unto you abun-
dantly, into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ.' You suffer now; but are you not
willing to suffer for his sake, and to bear patiently those
things to which he calls you ?"
O yes, very willing; I would not complain. It is all
right."
S" Then, my dear, you shall reign with him. Through
much tribulation you may, perhaps, enter into the king-
dom of God; but tribulation worketh patience; and pa-
tience, experience; and experience, hope. As a true
memberr of Christ,' show yourself to be a dutiful child
of God,' and your portion will be that of an inheritor in
the kingdom of heaven. Faithful is he that hath pro-
mised; commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in
him, and he shall bring it to pass."
Thank you, sir; I do so love to hear of theseAhings.
And I think, sir, I should not love them so much, if 1
had no part in them. Sir, there is one thing I want to
ask you. It is a great thing, and I may be wrong-I am
so young-And yet I hope I mean right-"
Here she hesitated and paused.
What is it ? do not be fearful of mentioning it."
4 tear rolled down her cheek-a slight blush colour-
d her- countenance. She lifted up her eyes to heaven
for a moment, and fixing them on me with a solemn af-
ecting look, said,
"'Ilay so young a poor child as I am be'admitted to
Lord's supper ? I have for some time wished it, but
d not to mention it, for fear you should think it

lMydear Jane, I have no doubt respecting it, and
Very glad to converse with you on the subject,
wope that he who has given you th~desire, will bless






16
his own ordinance to your soul. Would you wis
now, Or to-morrow ?"
"To-morrow, if you please, sir,-will you come t
morrow and talk to me about it, and if you think
proper, I shall be thankful. I am growing faint now-
hope to be better when you come again."
I was much pleased with her proposal, and rejoice
in the prospect of seeing so young and sincere a Chrii
tian thus devote herself to the Lord,.and receive the s'
cramental seal of a Saviour's love to her soul.
Disease was making rapid inroads upon her constitu
tion, and she was aware of it. But as'the outward ma
decayed, she was strengthened with might by.Good'
Spirit in the inner man. She was evidently ripening fas
for a better world.
The next morning I went to Jane's cottage. On en-
tering the door, the woman who so frequently visited
her met me, and said:
"Perhaps, sir, you will not wake her just yet; for sh
has dropped asleep, and she seldom gets much rest, poor
girl."
I went gently up stairs.
The child was in a half-sitting posture, leaning her
head upon her left hand, with her Bible open before her.
She had evidently fallen asleep while reading. Her coun-
tenance was beautifully composed and tranquil. A few,
tears had rolled down her cheek, and (probably unknown
to her) dropped upon the pages of her book.
I looked around me for a moment. The room was
comfortless and uninviting; the walls out of repair; the
sloping roof something shattered.: the floor broken and.
uneven ; no furniture but two tottering bedsteads, a three-
legged stool, and anold oak chest-the window broken
in many pieces, and mended with patches of paper. A
little shelf against the wall, over the bedstead where Jane
lay, served for her physic, her food, and her books.
Yet here," I said to myself, lies an heir of glory,
waiting for a happy dismissal; her earthly home is poor
indeed; but she has a house, not made with hands, eter-
nal in the heavens. She has little to attach her to this
world; but what a weight of glory in the world to come V
This mean despised chamber is a palace in the eye of
faith, for it contains one that is an inheritor of a crown;",
I approached without waking her, and observed that




IT
had been reading the twenty-third chapter of St.
ke. The finger of her right hand lay upon her book,
ting to the words, as it she had been using it to
her eye whilst she read.
SI' looked at the place, and was pleased at the appa-
tiy-casual circumstance of her finger pointing at these
words :
v."Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy king.

S"Is this casual or designed ?" thought I-" Either
'way it is remarkable."
SBut, in another moment, I discovered that her finger
was indeed an index to the thoughts of her heart.
She half awoke from her dozing state, but not suffi-
clently so to perceive that any person was present; and
said; in a kind of a whisper,
Lord, remember me-Remember me-Remember-
Remember me, a poor child-Lord, remember me--"
She then suddenly started, and perceived me, as she
became fully awake-a faint blush overspread her cheeks
for a moment, and then disappeared.
Dame K- how long have I been asleep ?-
Sir,. I am very sorry--"
"And I am very glad to find you thus," I replied:
"you may say with David, I laid me down and slept: I
awaked, for the Lord sustained me.' What were you
reading ?"
"The history of the crucifying of Jesus, sir."
"How far had you read when you fell asleep ?"
To the prayer of the thief that was crucified with
him; and when I came to that place, I stopped, and
thought what a mercy it would be, if the Lord Jesus
should remember me likewise-and so I fell asleep, and
I fancied in my dream, that I saw Christ upon the cross;
and I thought I said, Lord, remember me,'-and I am
sure he did not look angry upon me-and then I awoke."
All this seemed to be a sweet commentary on the text,
$ad almost suitable forerunner of our intended sacra-
mntal service.
""Well, my dear child,I am come, as you wished me,
o administer the sacrament of the body and blood of our
blessed Saviour to you; and I dare say neighbour K-
,*ll be glad to join us."
; Talk to me a little about it first, sir, if you please."
B2







You remember what you have learned in your Cate-
chism about it. Let us consider.-A sacrament, you
know, is an outward and visible sign of an inward and
spiritual grace, given unto us, ordained by Christ him-
self, as a means whereby we receive the same, and a
pledge to assure us thereof.' Now the Lord has ordain-
ed bread and wine in the holy supper, as the outward
mark which we behold with our eyes. It is a sign, a
token, a seal of his love, grace, and blessing, which he
promises to, and bestows on all who receive it, rightly
believing on his name and work. He, in this manner,
preserves amongst us,' a continual remembrance of his
death, and of the benefits which we receive thereby.' "
What do you believe respecting the death of Christ,
Jane ?"
That because he died, sir, we live.'
What life do we live thereby ?"
The life of grace and mercy now, and the life of
glory and happiness hereafter: is it not, sir ?"
"Yes, assuredly; this is the fruit of the death of Christ:
and thus he opened the kingdom of heaven to all be-
lievers.' As bread and wine strengthen and refresh your
poor weak fainting body in this very sickness, so does
the blessing of his body and blood strengthen and refresh
the souls of all that repose their faith, hopes and afiec.
tions, on him who loved us and gave himself for us."
Tears ran down her cheeks, as she said, "0 what a
Saviour !-O what a sinner --How kind-how good !
And is this for me?"
Fear not, dear child: he that.has made you to love
him thus, loves you too well to deny you. He will in no
wise cast out any that come to him."
Sir," said the girl," I can never think about Jesus,
and his love to sinners, without wondering how it can
be I deserve nothing but his anger on account of my
sins. Why'then does he love me ?-My heart is evil.
Why then does he love me --I continually forget all
his goodness. Why then does he love me ?-I neither
pray to him, nor thank him, nor do any thing as I oubht
to do. Why then such love to me ?"
How plain it is that all is mercy from first to last I
and that sweetens the blessing, my child. Are you not
willing to give Christ all the honour of your salvation,
and to take all the blame of your sins on your ownself?"







"Yes, indeed, sir, I am. My hymn says,
Blest be the Lord that sent his Son
To take our flesh and blood:
He for our lives gave up his own,
To make our peace with God.
He honour'd,all his Father's laws,
Which we have disobeyed;
He bore our sins upon tie cross,
And our full ransom paid."
I am glad you remember your hymns so well, Jane."
Sir, you don't know what pleasure they give me. I
am very glad you gave me that little book of Hymns for
children."
A severe fit of coughing interrupted her speech for a
while. The woman held her head. It was distressing
to observe her struggle for breath, and almost, as it were,
for life.
" Poor dear !" said the woman, I wish I could help
thee, and ease thy pains: but they will not last for ever."
God helps me," said the girl, recovering her breath:
" God helps me; he will carry me through,-Sir, you
look frightened-I am not afraid-this is nothing-I
am better now. Thank you, dame, thank you. I am
very troublesome; but the Lord will bless you for this
and all your kindness to me: yes, sir, and yours too.
Now talk to me again about the sacrament."
What is required, Jane, of them who come to the
Lord's supper? There are five things named in the
Catechism-do you remember what is the first?"
She paused; and then said, with a solemn and intelli-
gent look,
To examine themselves whether they repent them
truly of their former sins."
I hope and think that you know what this means,
Jane: the Lord has given you the spirit of repentance."
No one knows, sir, what the thoughts of past sin
have-been to me. Yes, the Lord knows, and that is
enough; and I hope he forgives me for Christ's sake.
His blood cleanseth from all sin. Sir, I sometimes think
of my sins till I tremble, and it makes me cry to think
that I have offended such a God; and then he comforts
me again 'with sweet thoughts about Christ."







"It is well, my child-be it so. The next thing men-
tioned in that answer of your Catechism, what is it ?"'
Steadfastly purposing to lead a new life."
"And what do you think of that ?"
"My life, sir, will be a short one; and I wish it had
been a better one. But from my heart I desire that it
may be a new one for the time to come. I want to for-
sake all my evil ways and thoughts, and evil words, and
evil companions; and to do what God bids me, and what
you tell me is right, sir, and what I read of in my Bible.
But I am afraid I do not, my heart is so full of sin. How-
ever, sir, I pray to God to help me. My days will be
few; but I wish they may be spent to the glory of God."
The blessing of the Lord be upon you, Jane ; so that,
whether you live, you may live to the Lord ; or whether
you die, you may die unto the Lord: and that, living or
dying, you may be the Lord's. What is the next thing
mentioned ?"
"To have a lively faith in God's mercy through
Christ, sir."
Do you believe that God is merciful to you in the
pardon of your sins ?"
I do, sir," said the child, earnestly.
And if he pardons you, is it for your own sake, Jane ?"
"No, sir, no; it is for Christ's sake, for my Saviour
Jesus Christ's sake, and that only-Christ is all."
Can you trust him ?"
"Sir, I must not mistrust him; nor would I, if I
might."
Right, child; he is worthy of all your trust."
And then, sir, I am to have a thankful remembrance
of his death. I can never think of his dying, but I think
also what a poor unworthy creature I am; and yet he is
so good to me. I wish I could thank him.-Sir, I have
been reading about his death. How could the people
do as they did to him ? but it was all for our salvation.
I And then the thief on the cross-that is beautiful. I
hope he will remember me too, and that I shall always
remember him and his death most thankfully."
"And lastly, Jane, are you in charity with all men ?
Do you forgive all that have offended you ? Do you bear
ill will in your heart to, any body ?"
"Dear sir, no; how can I ? If God is so good to me, if
She forgives me, how can I help forgiving others ? There








is not a person in all the world, I think, sir, to whom I
do not wish well for Christ's sake, and that from the
bottom of my heart."
-" How do you feel in regard to those bold, wanton, ill-
tempered girls at the next door, who jeer and mock you
so about your religion ?"
Sir, the works. thing I wish them is, that God may
give them grace to repent; that he may change their
hearts, and pardon all their wicked ways and words.
May he forgive them as I do with all my soul !"
She ceased-I wished to ask no more. My heart was
full. Can this be the religion of a child ?" thought I;
"0 that we were all children like her !"
Reach me that prayer-book, and the cup and plate.
My dear friends, I will now, with God's blessing, partake
with you in the holy communion of our Lord's body and
blood."
The time was sweet and solemn. I went through the
sacramental service.
The countenance and manner of the child evinced
powerful feelings. Tears mingled with smiles; resigna-
tion brightened by hope; humility animated by faith;
child-like modesty adorned with the understanding of a
riper age; gratitude, peace, devotion, patience-all these
were visible. I thought I distinctly saw them all--and
did I alone see them ? Is it too much to say that other
created beings, whom I could not behold with my natu-
ral eyes, were witnesses of the scene ?
If ministering angels do ascend and descend with glad
tidings between earth and heaven, I think they did so
then.
When I had concluded the service, I said, Now, my
dear Jane, you are indeed become a sister in the church
of Christ. May his spirit and blessing rest upon you,
strengthen and refresh you !"
My mercies are great, very great, sir, greater than I
can express-I thank you for this favour-I thought I
was too young-it seemed too much for me to think of:
but I am now sure the Lord is good to me, and I hope I
have done right."
Yes, Jane; and I trust you are both outwardly and
inwardly sealed by the Holy Ghost to the day of redemp-
tion."
Sir, I shall never forget this day."






Neither, I think, shall I."
Nor I," said the good old woman; sure the Lord
has been in the midst of us three to-day, while we have
been gathered together in his name.."
Sir," said the child," I wish you could speak to my
mother when you come again. I am so grieved about
her soul; and I am afraid she cares.nothing at all about
it herself,"
I hope I shall have an opportunity the next time I
come. Farewell, my child."
Good bye, sir, and I thank you for all'your kindness
to me."
Surely," I thought within myself, as I left the cot-
tage, this young bud of grace will bloom beauteously
in Paradise. The Lord transplant her thither in his own
good time Yet, if it be his will, may she live a little
longer, that I may farther profit by her conversation and
example."
One morning, soon after the sacramental interview, I
entered the house door, unperceived by those above
stairs, and sat down below, not wishing, as yet, to inter-
rupt a conversation, which quickly caught my ear.
Mother! mother! I have not long to live. My time
will be very short. But I must, indeed I must, say some-
thing for your sake, before I die. 0 mother you have
a soul-you have a soul; and what will become of it
when you die,? 0 my mother I am so uneasy about
your soul-"
"0 dear I shall lose my child-she will die-and
what shall I do when you are gone, my Jane ?" She
sobbed aloud.
Mother, think about your soul. Have not you ne-
glected that ?"
Yes,I have been a wicked sinner, and not loved that
which was good. What can I do ?"
Mother, you must pray to God to pardon you for
Christ's sake. You must pray."
Jane, my child, I cannot pray; I never di4 pray in
all my life. I am too wicked to pray."
Mother, I have been wanting to speak to you a long
time; but I was afraid to do it. You did not like me to
say any thing about yourself, and I did not know how to
begin. But, indeed, mother, I must speak now, or it
may be too late. I wish Mr.- was here, for he could






23
talk to you better than I can. But, perhaps, you will
'think of what I say, poor as it is, when I am dead I
am but a young child, and not fit to' speak about such
things to any body. But, mother, you belong to me, and
I cannot bear to think of your perishing for ever. My
Lord and Saviour has shown me my own sin and cor-
ruptions: he loved me, and gave himself for me; he died
and he rose again : I want to praise him for it for ever
and ever. I hope I shall see him in heaven; but I want
to see you there too, mother. Do, pray do, both father
and you, leave'off swearing and all other bad ways: go
to church and hear our minister speak about Jesus
Christ, and what he has done for wicked sinners. He
wishes well to souls. He taught me the way, and he
will teach you, mother. Do not be angry with me, mo-
ther; I only speak for your good. I was once as careless
as you are about the things of God. But I have seen
my error. I was in the broad road leading to destruc-
tion, like many other children in the parish; and the
Lord saw me, and had mercy upon me."
"Yes, my child, you was always a good girl, and
minded your book."
"No, mother, no; not always. I cared nothing abou.
goodness, nor my Bible, till the minister came and sent
for us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons. Don't you
remember, mother, that at first you did not like me to
go, and said you would have no such godly pious doings
about your house; and that I had better play about the
street and fields than be laughed at and made game of
for pretending to be so good ? Ah, mother! you did not
know what I went for, and what God designed for me
and my poor sinful soul. But, thank God, I did go, and
there learned the way of salvation. Mother, I wish you
had learned it too."
As I listened to this affecting conversation, it appear-
ed to me, from the tone and manner of the mother's
voice, that she was more under the influence of tempo-
rary grief, on account of her child's extreme illness, than
sincere sorrow from any real sense of her sins. I how-
ever hoped the best, and rejoiced to hear such weighty
and important exhortation dropping from her daughter's
lips. I felt that present circumstances rendered it far
more valuable than my own could have been.
At this moment the house door opened, and a younger








child, a brother of Jane's, came in. The mother asked,
from above, who it was: the boy replied, and, without
farther inquiry, she remained in tie chamber. I beck-
oned to the lad to sit down quietly;- and thus it still re-
mained unknown that I was below.:
Mother," continued Jane, that is my brother, and
will soon be your only remaining child. Do, pray, en-
courage him to follow good ways; send him to-Mr. -,
and he will be kind to him, as he has been to me. He
is a wild boy, but I hope he will be brought to think
about his soul in time. Those naughty wicked boys teach
him to swear and fight, and run after all manner of evil.
Lord, help him to flee from the wrath to come !"
I made a sign to the boy to listen to what his sister
said concerning him. He seemed to hear with attention,
and a tear dropped down his cheek.
"Ay, Jane, it is to be hoped he will, and that we all
shall likewise."
Mother, then you must flee to Christ. Nothing you
can do will save you without that. You must repent,
and turn from sin-without the grace of God you cannot
do it; but seek, and you shall find it. Do, for your own
sake, and for my sake, and my little brother's sake."
,The woman wept and sobbed without replying. I now
thought it time to appear, went to the bottom of the
stairs, and said, May a friend come up ?"
"Mercy on me!" said the mother; "there is Mr.

"Come in, sir," said Jane; "I am very glad you are
come now. Mother, set a chair."
The woman looked rather confused; Jane smiled as I
entered, and welcomed me as usual.
"I hope I shall be forgiven, both by mother and
daughter, for having remained so long below stairs,
during the conversation which has just taken place. I
came in the hope of finding you together, as I have had
a wish for some time past to speak to you, Sarah, on
the same subjects, about which I am happy to say your
daughter is so anxious. You have long neglected these
things, and I wished to warn you of the danger of your
state-but Jane has said all I could desire, and I now
solemnly ask you, whether you are not much affected by
your poor child's faithful conversation ? You ought to
have been her teacher and instructor in the ways of







righteousness; whereas nfw she has become yours. Hap
py, however, will it be-for you, if you are wiseand con-
sider your latter en4-' and the things which belong to
your peace, before thtiy are hidden from your eyes! Look
at your dying chil and think of your other and only
remaining-one, and4say whether this sight does not call
aloud upon you tohear and fear."
Jane's eyes-werd filled with tears whilst I spoke. The
woman hung her head down, but betrayed some emo-
tions on account of the plain dealing used towards her.
My child Jane," said I, "how are you to-day ?"
"Sir, I have been talking a good deal, and feel rather
faint and weary, but my mind has been very easy and
happy since I last saw you. I am quite willing to die,
when the Lord sees fit. I have no wish to live, except it be
to see my friends in a better way before I depart. Sir, I
used to be afraid to speak to them; but I feel to-day as
if I could hold my peace no longer, and I must tell them
what the Lord has done for my soul, and what I feel for
theirs." f
There was a firmness, I may say a dignity, with which
this was uttered, that surprised me. The character of
the child seemed to be lost in that of:the Christian: her
natural timidity yielded to a holy assurance of manner,
resulting from her own inward consolations, mingled
with spiritual desire for her mother's welfare. This pro-
duced a flush upon her otherwise pallid countenance,
which in no small degree added to her interesting ap-
pearance. The Bible lay open before her as she sat up
in the bed. With her right hand she enclosed her mo-
ther's.
Mother, this book you cannot read : you should there-
fore go constantly to church, that you may hear it ex-
plained. It is God's book, and tells us the way to heaven;
I hope you will learn and mind it; with God's blessing
it may.save your soul. Do think of that, mother, pray
do. I am soon going to die. Give this Bible to! my
brother: and will you be so kind, sir, to instruct him?
Mother, remember what I say, and this gentleman is
witness there is no salvation for sinners like you and
me but in the blood of Christ; he is able to save to the:
uttermost; he will save all that come to him ; he waits:
to be gracious; cast yourself upon his mercy. I wish-
I wish-I-I-I--"







She was quite overcome, and sunk away in a kind of
fainting fit.
Her mother observed that she would now probably
remain insensible for some time before she recovered.
At a very early hour on the morning of the following
day, I was awoke by the arrival of a messenger, bring-
ing an earnest request that I would immediately go to
the child, as her end appeared to be just approaching.
When I arrived at the house, I found no one below;
I paused a few minutes, and heard the girl's voice very
faintly saying, "Do you think he will come P I should
be so glad-so very glad to see him before I die."
I ascended the stairs-her father, mother, and brother,
together with the elderly woman before spoken of, were
in the chamber. Jane's countenance bore the marks of
speedy dissolution. Yet, although death was manifest
in the languid features, there was something more than
ever interesting in the whole of her external aspect. The
moment she saw me, a renewed vigour beamed in her
eyes-grateful affection sparkled in the dying face.
Although she had spoken just before I entered, yet for
some time afterwards she was silent, but never took her
eyes off me. There was animation in her look-there
was more-something like aforetaste of heaven seemed
to be felt, and gave an inexpressible character of spirit-
ual beauty, even in death.
At length she said, This is very kind, sir, I am go-
ing fast-I was afraid I should never see you again in
this world."
I said, My child, are you resigned to die ?"
Quite."
"Where is your hope ?"
She lifted up her finger, pointing to heaven, and then
directed the same downward to her own heart, saying
successively as she did so, Christ there and Christ
here."
These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her
meaning more solemnly than can easily be conceived.
A momentary spasm took place.-Looking towards
her weeping mother, she said, "I am very cold-but it is,
no matter-it will soon be over"-She closed her eyes for
about a minute, and, on opening them again, said, I
wish, sir, when I am gone, you would tell. the other chil-
dren of the parish, how good the Lord has been to me,






. poor sinner-tell them, that they who seek him early
will find him-tell them, that the ways of sin and igno-
rance are the ways to ruin and hell-and pray tell them,
sir, from me, that Christ is indeed the Way, the Truth,
and the Life-he will in nowise cast out any that come.
Tell them, that I, a poor girl-"
She was quite exhausted, and sunk for awhile into a
torpid state, from which, however, she recovered gra-
dually, uttering these expressions : Where am I ?-I
thought I was going-Lord, save me."
My dear child, you will soon be for ever in his arms,
who is now guiding you by his rod and staff through the
valley of the shadow of death."
"I believe so, indeed I do," stid she; "I long to be
with him- -0 how, good, how great, how merciful!-
Jesus, save me, help me thitugh this last trial."
She then gavetne hand to her father, the other to her
mother, and said, God'bless you, God bless you-seek
the Loi'd, think of me, when I am gone-it may be for
yyour good-remember your souls-0 for Christ's sake,
remember your souls-then all may be well-you cannot
kpy whiat I have felt for both of you-Lord, pardon
rin save my dear father and motheri"
She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying,
Thomas, I beg of you to leave off your bad ways-read
the Bible-I give you mine-I have found it a precious
book. Do you not remember our little brother, who died
some years since ?-he was praying to the last moment
of his life. Learn to pray, while you are in health, and
you will find the comfort and power of it when you come
to die; but, first of all, pray for a new heart-without it
you never will see God in heaven-your present ways
lead to misery and ruin-may the Lord turn your heart
to love and follow him !"
To the other woman she said, I thank you, Dame
K-- for all your kindness, since I have been ill-
you have been a Christian friend to me, and I hope the
Lord will remember you for it, according to his rich
mercy:-you and I have many a time talked together
about death; and though I am the youngest, he calls me
first to pass through it; but, blessed be his name, I am
not terrified. I once thought I never could die without
fear; but indeed I feel quite happy now it is come, and






28
so will you, if you trust in himr-he is the God both of.
the old and the young."
Ah, my child !" said the woman, I wish I was q
fit to die as you are; but I fear that will never be-mVr
sins have been many, very many." :
Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin," said the child
At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through
the fatigue of so much speaking, she seemed to gather,
fresh strength. She turned to me with:a look of surprise, ..
ing earnestness and animation, saying
You, sir, have been my best friend on earth-you
have taught me the way to heaven, and I love and thank-
you for it-you have borne with my weakness and my-
ignorance-you have spoken to me cf the love of Christ,
and he has made me to feel it in my heart--I shall see ,
him face to face-he will never leave me nor forsake .o
me-he is the same, and changes not. ,, Dear sir, God
bless you."
The child suddenly rose up, with an unexpected ex:
ertion, threw her livid wasted arms around me, as I sat;
on the bed-side, laid her head on my shoulder, and said'
distinctly, God bless and reward you-give thanks for
me to him-my soul is saved-Christ is every thing to
me; Sir, we shall meet in heaven, shall we not ? O yes,
yes-then all will be peace-peace-"
.,She sunk back on the bed, and spoke no more-fetched
a deep sigh- smiled-and died.










':A few years ago, a little girl in Gloucestershire used to
subscribe a half-penny per week to an auxiliary missionary
society; but by the failure of employment where she had
been used to work, she found herself unable to continue her
subscription. Yet she was unwilling altogether to with-
hold her aid, and devised a method by which her best
feelings might be gratified.
The farmers allowed the poor to glean in the potato
fields; she went one e o morning, and, with great labour, ob-
tained a basket of potatoes ; these she carried to the collector
who formerly received her subscription, entreating him to
accept them instead of her money. He objected, saying,
he never received such a contribution, and that he thought
the potatoes properly belonged to her mother. The child
went home much disappointed, and related the whole affair
to her mother. The poor woman immediately returned
with her daughter to the collector, and requested him to ac-
cept the potatoes, saying, Sir, I was once a poor blind
papist; but now, blessed be God, I know the value of His
gospel, and wish every body to know it too; and I thank
God that I have a child who feels this concern for the poor
heathen." The potatoes were accepted, sold, and the money
appropriated to the missionary cause.

Another little girl, in the same neighbourhood, wishing to
contribute to the same object, made dolls' bonnets, and sent.
them to Gloucester, for sale, appropriating their proceeds
-to a missionary society.

A little girl sent about ten shillings to a gentleman for
the purchase of missionary tracts: and in her letter, she
says, She who takes this freedom to ask so much of a
stranger, began this letter with a trembling hand. She is
indeed young in years, and in knowledge too, and is not able
to talk much with a gentleman on religion; but her mother
has taught her, for almost eleven years, to say, Thy King-
dom come;" and she believes she cannot be saying it sin-
cerely, if she does nothing to help it on among the heathen.
This thought emboldens her to write to a stranger, almost
as though he were a friend."
These little anecdotes may provoke a smile, perhaps a
tear; and will not the example of these little children ex-
cite in many an older and wealthier reader a resolution to
devote to God a proportionate donation ?



., .i: ..... ,









'A few years ago, a little girl in Gloucestershire used to
subscribe a half-penny per week to an auxiliary missionary
society; but by the failure of employment where she had
been used to work, she found herself unable to continue her
subscription. Yet she was unwilling altogether to with-
hold her aid, and devised a method by which her best
feelings might be gratified.
The. farmers allowed the poor to glean in the potato
fields; she went one morning, and, with- great labour, ob-
tained a basket of potatoes ; these she carried to the collector
who formerly received her subscription, entreating him to
accept them instead of her money. He objected, saying,
he never received such a contribution, and that he thought
the potatoes properly belonged to her mother. The child
went home much disappointed, and related the whole affair
to her mother. The poor woman immediately returned
with her daughter to the collector, and requested him to ac-
cept the potatoes, saying, Sir, I was once a poor blind
papist; but now, blessed be God, I know the value of His
gospel, and wish every body to know it too; and I thank
God that I have a child who feels this concern for the poor
heathen." The potatoes were accepted, sold, and the money
appropriated to the missionary cause.
Another little girl, in the same neighbourhood, wishing to
contribute to the same object, made dolls' bonnets, and sent
them to Gloucester, for sale, appropriating their proceeds
to a missionary society.

A little girl sent about ten shillings to a gentleman for
the purchase of missionary tracts: and in her letter, she
says, She who takes this freedom to ask so much of a
stranger, began this letter with a trembling hand. She is
indeed young in years, and in knowledge too, and is not able
to talk much with a gentleman on religion; but her mother
has taught her, for almost eleven years, to say, Thy King-
dom come;" and she believes she cannot be saying it sin-
cerely, if she does nothing to help it on among the heathen.
This thought emboldens her to write to a stranger, almost
as though he were a friend."
These little anecdotes may provoke a smile, perhaps a
tear; and will not the example of these little children ex-
cite in many an older and wealthier reader a resolution to
devote to God a proportionate donation ?




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