much as it might tend to imbue the mind of the child with a high opinion of his own desert, and thus pave the way for the admission of that fatal error,-a spirit of self-righteousness in the sight of Him who has declared, "There is none that doeth good, no not one." Should it appear probable that such would be the result, no desire for the improvement of our children in learning could excuse us for adopting the plan. Nothing could excuse us for adopting any plan which should in the slightest degree be instrumental in leading the young to go about to establish their own righteousness, instead of gratefully and unreservedly submitting themselves to the righteousness of God. For myself, however, I must say, I have no fear on this head. The pious and judicious parent and instructor possess many opportunities of rectifying any erroneous notions which may be formed by the young on the subject of meritorious exertions; and in presenting to their charge a reward-a prize-it may be a well earned prize, not, be it remembered, as a reward of intellectual capacity, but of regular exertion and general good conduct, would never cease to press upon their recollection the fact that the ability to do well was of the free unmerited favour of God; and that consequently, though there might be much cause for thankfulness, there could be none whatever for pride and self-exultation. I hope to be excused the somewhat dictatorial tone which I have assumed. I do not speak without some experience in these matters, and my language may seem to take a turn of more positive decision than would on many other subjects become the unimportance of the writer. Those, however, who presume to speak at all, must speak openly and honestly what they believe to be the truth. I trust these observations are not offered in a spirit of arrogant dictation. Were I conscious of being actuated by a feeling of this kind, my "thoughts," such as they are, should not appear in their present shape. I would at once lay down my pen, as I have not unfrequently felt inclined to do, as the thought has crossed my mind of the danger I incur, of appearing better than I am, by writing for such a periodical as the Christian Beacon. I know from experience that people in general, and friends in particular are-may I be allowed to say so?-far too eager at once to class among the excellent of the earth, any who thus venture to take their stand on sacred ground-forgetting how much easier it is to write than to act-to appear good than to be so. May we not acquire correct opinions on any subject, and prescribe rules to others, and may we not, all the while, be very far from putting in practice ourselves the advice which we presume to give. May not the single eye, and the single heart be wanting, and if so, are we not still far from earnestly seeking after that holiness without which no man shall see the Lord. "I verily believe," says that Christian lady, the venerated Mrs. Hannah More," it is possible to make one's whole life a display of splendid virtues and agreeable qualities, without ever setting one's foot towards the narrow path, or even one's face towards the strait gate." Yes, I verily believe it, too. "Men judge of us by our actions, God by our motives;" and the actions may all wear the garb of seeming virtue, while the motives of those actions may be abomination in the sight of God. It is one thing to be able to gain the commendation

of man. Oh, it is altogether another thing to approve ourselves in the sight of Him who trieth the reins and the heart. It is so easy to make clean and beautiful all that is without, so difficult to purify the waters of the polluted fountain within, that although we may feel the kindness, we can hardly admit the prudence of those whose undue commendation tends to increase the difficulty. Would it not be as well to remember that the breath of praise, sweet as it is, and passing, as it doubtless does pass, like a gentle zephyr over the powerful and the strong, may yet prove a very whirlwind of destruction when it hovers around the feeble and the weak. “We are all extremely prone," says the late Mr. Wilberforce," to lend ourselves to the good opinion which, however falsely is entertained of us by others: and though we at first confusedly suspect, or indubitably know, that their esteem is unfounded, and their praises undeserved, and that they would have thought and spoken of us very differently if they had discerned our secret motives, or had been accurately acquainted with all the circumstances of our conduct, we gradually suffer ourselves to adopt their judgment of us, and at length feel that we are in some sort injured, or denied our due, when these false commendations are contradicted or withheld." This, however, is wandering from my subject —a subject that lies very near to my heart-the welfare and improvement of the rising generation. I am not without a hope that the few remarks now most respectfully submitted to the consideration of those engaged in education, all weak and feeble as they are, may nevertheless prove not entirely useless in the way of inducing reflection on the very important point before us. I cannot forbear closing this paper with a quotation, notwithstanding the desire of kind and too partial friends, that I should confine myself to my own remarks. With the sentiments, as expressed in the following extract, I need hardly say that I entirely concur. "We see not why the praise absolute may not be as enticing as the praise comparative. But let this point be conceded, if it must, and be it admitted that a child will learn more in the hope of outshining, or the fear of being outshone, than he can do either from the desire of knowledge, or a wish to please his instructor, or any other motive. Still the question is not at rest. Our children are Christians, devoted in baptism, and as every pious parent hopes hereafter to be accepted as the servants and followers of Him who, when He comes to acknowledge them as such, will not ask what they know, but what they are. Surely, all the knowledge and all the attainments in the world were a dear-bought purchase at the expense of one right feeling of one solid Christian virtue. We strangely miscalculate, even for our happiness in this world, when we sacrifice character to acquirements of any kind. I surely shall not be suspected of too lightly estimating the advantage of mental cultivation and polite accomplishments. By every proper motive-by every sinless incentive, we may provoke our

pupils to exertion. To the gifted we may say-make use by assiduity of what you have; to the less endowed-make amends by assiduity for what you have not; and by praise or blame enforce the precept. But if we must choose between the moral and intellectual good-if the culture that is to raise the flower, must foster with it the poisonous weed, we hold the utmost acquisition of human wisdom light indeed. Its future fruits will never allay the passions excited for its acquisition. When sin becomes the burden and the shame of a bosom struggling, and yet unable to repress it, learning and talent will not whisper peace. When the applause and the triumph and the approbation of man are past and forgotten, the evil thought, the sinful emotion, will remain upon the conscience, and unless mercy blot it thence, on Heaven's eternal records." M. H. P.

EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF A COLPORTEUR.

(Continued from page 304.)

22nd May.-Set out for Plombières; where I became acquainted with Dr. Turck, author of a valuable work on the Baths of this picturesque place. I am indebted to him for some interesting information relative to the religious meetings which have been held at Plombières in the preceding years. 1300 bathers, on an average, usually come thither every year, without counting the visitors who crowd there on fine days to spend the time agreeably. Last year they had been a long time without a pastor. Towards the end of the bathing season only, there came a Mr. Grenier, from Neuchatel, who held two meetings, which were very much liked. The preachings are in general well attended, those of our dear brother Bost were less so; because, said Mr. Turck, (who, though he believes in the efficacy of the Word of God, rejects, it is said, the divinity of the Saviour,)-in his sermons he speaks too often of hell. This communication, to which that furnished by brother Ster,-the neglected state of the Protestants and converted Roman Catholics of Remiremont, and of the neighbourhood in general, have given still more weight; have inspired me with the desire of going to preach the Gospel for some weeks at Plombières, during the bathing season. I could hold a Meeting every Sunday at Plombières, and besides, preach alternately on the same day at Remiremont and Epinal.

May 23. From Plombières we went to Val D'Ajol. I forgot to mention, that before leaving, I had a conversation with a young dressmaker, a Roman Catholic, who had several times allowed the New Testament, which some Christian friends had given her, to be taken from her. I gave her another, upon her promising not to suffer the Word of God to be taken from her again by any one. She promised to read it more attentively for the future. Her mother, when she heard of our conversation, was much rejoiced, and sent me her thanks by our friend Ster.

At Val D'Ajol we entered a house where the mother, children, and grandmother know, and seem to love the Word of God. Whilst the last

went to call the school-master of the place, M. Masson, brought to the knowledge of the truth by the instrumentality of brother Ster, the two eldest girls, who work in an adjoining factory, came in to take their luncheon. The elder of the two, who had already been in service at Remiremont, was filled with prejudices against what she called "our religion-the new religion;" and, although she would have been glad if we could have procured for her a situation as servant either at Nancy or elsewhere, she added, however, that she would not like to live with people of" our religion." Ster then spoke, and explained clearly and briefly the nature of this religion, of which this girl seemed to have such horror. I also spoke a few words, and gave a tract to each member of the family. At last this girl, who appeared at first so rebellious, had become so gentle, that she apologized for being obliged by her business to leave us so soon. May the Lord bless to her, her brothers, and sisters, what has been done for the advancement of His Kingdom in this house. A poor man who had come in to buy something, and who had also received a tract went away rejoiced and edified at what he had seen. He promised to buy a

New Testament. The school-master arrived. Our visit was to him a source of great joy. He listened most attentively to all that I said. To the intelligence of a grown up man he adds the faith of a child. I left him one of my own Bibles. He promised to attend to-morrow at our French meeting. His wife is as yet much opposed to the Gospel; she has forbidden Ster to enter her house. The grandmother, who went to fetch him, did not dare to tell him who was waiting for him. However, he told his wife that he would go on Sunday to Remiremont, to hear a minister from Nancy preach, and, contrary to his expectation, this announcement was better received than he had ventured to hope.

A quarter of an hour after, we went to see a Protestant family in the environs of Mont Béliard. We found only the wife with the three children-the father was working at a canal some hundred paces off. After some exhortations, and seeing that this good woman was busy, we went to the husband, who was much rejoiced at our visit. At the age of seven, his father had sometimes taken him to the edifying Meetings of a pastor named Duvernoy, at Mont Béliard, who died there at the age of 107, after having fulfilled the duties of his ministry till the age of 96. He had received very good impressions. He is a pious man, and brings up his children piously. Every Sunday he has family worship. For this purpose he makes use of Nardin's Sermons and an old Liturgy which his father had left him. He also promised to be at the Meeting on Sunday. These two books, as well as the Bible, are considered by this interesting family as their most precious treasure.

On the way we met a man who asked permission to join us, not knowing the road, as he told us, and fearing to lose himself. He was the father of a large family, as we found out afterwards, whose house had been burnt down about a year ago. He was going to Remiremont to buy some planks, because he had been told that he could purchase them cheaper there than in his own country. Notwithstanding his great age, this good man had travelled already ten leagues that day. All these circumstances led powerfully to a serious conversation with this old man, who entered

into it with the best grace possible. In order to afford myself an opportunity of judging of the manner in which our dear brother Ster acquits himself in such conversations, I left him to conduct it alone, and I must confess I was perfectly satisfied. I had more than once occasion to admire the simplicity, the decision, the charity and Christian experience of this dear brother, in his questions, his answers, and the manner in which he treated the most difficult parts of the Gospel. He is a workman whose exertions have been blessed, and whom any Christian society may congratulate itself on possessing. We have spent twelve days together, exposed occasionally to some inconveniencies, and I have admired constantly the gentleness, the humility, the patience, the affability of this well-beloved brother. Arrived at Remiremont at eight o'clock. The old man left us, thanking us for " the good things he had heard." Fatigued as we were, we held a Meeting. There were about ten present-some of them new ones.

THE EVENING WIND.

I come, I come, from the isles of bloom,
Where the citron and olive breathe forth perfume,
Where the wood birds sing on the leafy pines,
And the dew falls soft on the clust'ring vines;
Where the skies are bright as a Poet's dream,
And the silvery founts with lustre gleam.

O'er the billows I rush in my stormy pride,
And I waken to tumult the slumbering tide,
The tall ship speeds o'er the heaving foam;
And the mariner dreams of his island home,
Of his father's cot, and the beechen shade,
And the lonely glen where his childhood play'd.

I pass through the woods with a gentle sigh,
And the rustling leaves to my voice reply:
The violet droops on its fragrant cell,
And the myrtle flowers of my presence tell.
Hark! music peals from the joyous rills,
And the fir-trees wave on the stormy hills.

Onward I sweep past the mouldering halls,
Where the gleam of the sunshine dimly falls;
Where the vassal sat at the festal board,
And loud mirth rung as the wine was poured,
And the warrior bard with his wild harp told,
The valiant deeds, and the songs of old.

O'er the pilgrim I breathe as he kneels once more,
On the shining sands of his native shore;

The captive I pass in my chainless glee,

And his young heart bounds with a rapture free,
And a faint smile lights up his languid eye,
When he hears my voice as I wander by.

MRS. HEMANS.

Printed by T. Thomas, Eastgate-street Row, Chester.

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