BREAD FOUND AFTER MANY DAYS.

AN ANECDOTE RELATED BY THE REV. ROBERT YOUNG.

WHEN I was in the West Indies, I heard of a poor soldier who had been condemned to die, and I wished to see him in his condemned cell. On applying to the gaoler, he allowed me to do so, on condition that I should be enclosed in the dungeon during the interval of meals, for some hours. That, in a West India dungeon, was : not a very agreeable thing. However, as I had a sincere desire to talk with this man, I submitted to the condition, and was shut up with him. I found him an interesting young man; and, to my surprise, his countenance indicated pleasure rather than grief, when I presented myself before him. I began to enquire regarding the state of his mind, and, to my astonishment, he told me that he had obtained salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ. He went on to detail, in a most interesting manner, how he had found his way to the Redeemer. Knowing that no pious person had previously visited him, I wished to be informed how he had obtained his light, when he gave me the following narrative:—“ Oh! sir," he said, “I was a scholar in a Sabbath-school, at Nottingham. I was a very bad boy. I was expelled from the school twice in consequence of my conduct. I cherished evil principles in my heart, because I was an exceedingly dissipated young man. In a fit of intoxication I enlisted as a soldier, and, in a few days, left my native town. Soon afterwards I was sent out to this country; and I fear my conduct has broken the heart of my widowed mother. After I had been in this country some time, I did not like the army, and deserted. I was apprehended, and flogged. I deserted again. I was betrayed by a companion, apprehended, and am now sentenced to die. When I came to this loathsome place, I was as dark and as ignorant of God as it was possible for any sinner to be. I meditated vengeance against the person who informed about me, and against my judges, and I thought that I would be amply revenged if I could but escape from my place of imprisonment; but when left alone to my own reflections, I thought of the Sabbath-school at

Nottingham, and all at once the instructions which I received there, flashed upon my mind. I wept, I prayed; my heart was broken, and I found my way to that Saviour who had been so often named in the school to which I refer; and, blessed be God," said he, "he has manifested his love to my heart, and saved me from the fear of death." The time came when he was led forth to be shot. When he arrived at the place of his execution, his conversation, and the whole of his proceedings, indicated the tranquillity of his mind. He then knelt upon his coffin, prayed for himself, for his regiment, for his mother, if still alive, and expressed himself in terms of confidence and hope. The commanding-officer appeared deeply affected, and evidently felt much reluctance in performing his painful duty. At length, however, in a tremulous voice, he said, "Make ready!-present!fire!"-and in a moment that soldier lay a bleeding and lifeless corpse. Now here was bread found after many days. That Sunday-school teacher at Nottingham had no idea that he had done any good to this young man; when he left the school he had no hope concerning him; and yet the seed which had been scattered in Nottingham, produced glorious fruit in a West Indian dungeon.

EARLY CONVICTIONS.

(Extracted from the Memoir of Miss Mary Jane Graham.) I KNEW a little girl about sixteen years and a half ago. She was much like other children, as full of sin and vanity as ever she could hold; and her parents had not as yet taken much pains to talk to her about religion. So she went on in the way of her own evil heart, and thought herself a very good little girl, because she said her prayers every night and morning, and was not more passionate, wilful, and perverse, than most of her young companions. The God of love did not think this sinful child too young to learn of Jesus. He so ordered it, about the time I am speaking of, when she was just seven years old, that she was led by a pious servant into some almshouses belonging to Rowland Hill, who had just been preaching at them. The servant and an aged woman entered into a long conversation together, to which the little girl listened, and wondered what could make them like to talk about such things. But at the close of it, the old woman took the child affectionately by the hand, and said to her, “ My dear child, make the Lord Jesus your friend now that you are so young, and when you come to be as old as I am, he'll never leave you nor forsake you." God the Spirit sent these simple words to the poor sinful child's heart. She walked home in silence by her nurse's side, thinking how she could get Jesus to be her friend. Then she remembered how often she had slighted this dear Saviour; how she had read of him in the Bible, and been wearied of the subject; how she had heard the minister preach Jesus, and wished the long dry sermon over; how she had said prayers to him without minding what she said; how she had passed days, weeks, and months, without thinking of him; how she had loved her play, her books, and her toys, and her play-fellows, all, all better than Jesus. Then the Holy Spirit convinced her of sin. She saw that no one good thing dwelt in her, and that she deserved to be cast away from God for ever. Would Jesus love her now? Would he ever forgive her? She feared not; but she would try—she would make herself very

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good, and then, perhaps, Jesus would be her friend. But the more this little girl tried to be good, the more her naughty heart got the better of her; for she was trying in her own strength. She was led to give up trying in that way, and many long nights did she spend in praying, "with strong cryings and tears," to Jesus, that he would teach her to get her sins pardoned, and make her fit to have him for her friend. Let me mention it for the encouragement of those who seek Jesus, that he did not disdain to listen to the prayers of this little child. He put it into her heart to read the Bible, of which, though she understood not all, yet she gathered enough to give her some comfort. One day her attention was fixed on these words, The Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." Now something which could take away sin was just what she needed, and she asked her father to tell her who this Lamb of God was. He explained the precious verse. But who can describe the raptures which filled the bosom of this little child, when made to comprehend that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." Now she fled to Jesus indeed; now she knew he had loved her, and given himself for her; now the Spirit of God, who often chooseth the weak and foolish things of the world to confound the wise and mighty, shed abroad the love of God in the heart of a weak and foolish child, and filled her with "joy and peace in believing." She had no one to whom she could talk of these things. But she held sweet converse with her reconciled God and Father, and gladly would she have quitted this life to go and dwell with Jesus.

Since then she has spent nearly seventeen years of mingled happiness and pain; but she has had Jesus for her friend, and he never has and never will forsake her.

TEACHING, A PROFESSION, NOT A TRADE. HAVING said so much on the matter and manner of your instructions, it only remains for me to add a few observations regarding your motives and conduct. Unless the

former be pure, and the latter above suspicion, the efficiency of your schools will be hindered, and your own position degraded; whereas if these are such as they ought to be, you will elevate the character of your profession, and along with it your own usefulness. I have spoken of your vocation as a profession: such it really is, and as such I would have you to esteem it. The master who looks upon his calling only as a trade, is sure never to conduct it well, for it requires higher principles, and lofter motives in order to the right fulfilment of its duties, than those which influence men who follow their occupations merely as a source of profit, or a means of livelihood. I need not remind you that, like the profession to which I myself belong, yours is often an ill requited one; I need not tell you that it abounds in discouragements, difficulties, and vexations. The man who enters -upon such a profession with the purest motives and from the highest principles, will have to encounter and experience no little disquietude from all this; but he that enters upon it as a trade, and looks upon it merely as a piece of drudgery to be endured, by way of return for his daily bread, is carving out for himself a life of daily misery and unhappiness, and never will and never can discharge the duties of it with any satisfaction to himself, or much benefit to others. The educator, like the clergyman, must view his calling in a higher light; he must engage in it from superior motives, and take a deeper interest in all that concerns it. He should feel that the character of the rising generation depends much, humanly speaking, upon his own; that the well being, for time and eternity, of thousands is entrusted to his care; that he holds office under God and in the parent's place for the most important of purposes, and therefore that there is no portion of his duties, however minute or inconsiderable in itself, that does not acquire a high and sacred importance by the relation in which it stands to this ultimate design. Feelings like these, will give vigour to your plans, and efficiency to your exertions.

As to your conduct, suffer me to remind you that consistency is indispensable to you in the school and out of it. You cannot avoid teaching your scholars by your