THOSE FOUR SUNDAY SCHOOL BOYS:

WHAT WE SAW WITH OUR OWN EYES.

THEY were not ragged filthy boys, with uncombed hair and unwashed face and hands. They were well dressed, and no one could doubt that they had been well cared for by somebody at home. They were not brothers. Each belonged to a different family from the rest. Three of them were nearly of the same size and age, but the fourth was a head taller than the others.

They were all intelligent-looking boys,-more intelligent than nine in ten of the boys we meet in school, or in the street.

It was in a place of public worship that we saw them. They occupied a seat by themselves, right in front of us, and we could not avoid seeing them whether we would or not. They had just come in from the Sunday school, kept in an adjoining apartment, and were probably among the oldest of the boys. Hence we might suppose they would not only know how to behave themselves, but would feel ashamed of any unbecoming conduct.

They had not been in their seats very long before they began to talk and laugh with each other. It was evident that they were there without any desire or purpose of joining in the worship of God. The largest of the four pretty soon drew his library-book from his pocket and began to read it,looking at the pictures and showing them to the others. Once in a while he shut up his book and joined with 'them in laughing and joking, making grimaces at each other, and in various ways showing their contempt for the place and services.

The officiating clergyman was a man of eminent character. Men of learning and distinction were accustomed to listen with great pleasure and profit to his preaching. But these four boys had no ears to hear what was said,-still less any desire to profit by it. Some of the most eloquent and impressive passages of the sermon were, to them, as idle sounds, while they were indulging themselves in vain and silly sport.

Even in the solemn acts of worship they did not refrain from talking and laughing; and, though they took the position of worshippers as others did, it was evident that they took no part, and felt no interest in the prayers and praises which were offered to the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.

When the service was over, and as we were leaving the place, we accosted one of the party,-the rest being by,and asked him if he and his comrades did not know how to behave themselves in a place of public worship. He answered by an empty laugh, in which the others joined; and we left them with no little sorrow of heart.

If our boys, who are brought up in Christian homes, and have the additional advantage of good Sunday school instruction, are so unmindful of their duty to God, and of the nature of his worship, what can we expect from those who are without any such advantages?

Will boys who show such contempt for the place and duty of religious worship be likely to respect and obey the laws of man?

Ask our missionaries if they ever saw four boys, twelve or fourteen years

of age, in a heathen temple, set apart for the worship of a hideous image of wood or stone, called a god, who would not behave more reverently, or at least more decently, than these four boys behaved in the temple of the living God, and the midst of the assembly of his people!-American Youth's Gazette.

VERSES TO A TEACHER.

A short time since, at a school examination, I found a large piece of pasteboard, bearing in a very legible hand the following inscription, written by the teacher, and evidently intended to be exhibited to the children:

To MR. SMITH.

From a Correspondent.

Mr. Smith, thou art good and mild,
Beloved by every little child,

Thou wast formed for usefulness,
Boys to comfort and girls to bless.

You will hardly believe me when I tell you that the author of this remarkable poem was really a very efficient and successful teacher of young children; and possibly he was quite correct in judging that to exhibit such an effusion as something which he had received from an unknown admirer, would tend to make his pupils hold him in greater veneration.-Fraser's Magazine, for July.

DRAWING CHILDREN OUT.

SOME clergymen pride themselves on their power of drawing out the intelligence of children by their mode of putting questions to them. And occasionally I have seen this well done; more frequently, very absurdly. The following is a specimen of a style of examination which I have myself more than once witnessed :-"Whal, deer cheldrun, what was it that swallowed Jonah? Was it a sh-sh-sh-sh-shark ?" "Yahs!" roar a host of voices. 66 Noa, deer cheldrun, it was not a shark. Then was it an al-al-al-allig-allig-alligator ?" "Yahs!" exclaim the voices again. "Noa, deer cheldrun, it was not an alligator. Then was it a wh-wh-wh-whaaale?" "Noa!" roar the voices, determined to be right this time. "Yahs, deer cheldrun, it was a whale."-Frazer's Magazine, for July.

SEMINARIES OF LEARNING,

As well as particular shops, are sometimes frequented more on account of what they have been, than what they are: so many instances of this might be produced, that it seems to be a prevailing opinion in this island, that talents and genius, like cats, are more attached to particular walls and houses, than the persons who reside within them.

FRUIT BY THE WAY SIDE.

MARY CAMERON had lately parted from her only sister, who had married, and gone to India. Very dreary and lonely she felt, as, one bright sunny morning, she sat down (because she had "nothing else to do") to prepare her next Sunday's lesson.

She began to read her "Notes," but her thoughts wandered, and gradually discouraging her feelings (connected with her class) got such hold of her, that she was closing her lesson paper with a bitter sigh, when a servant entered with a note. Mary quickly opened it :

"MY DEAR MARY,--Will you oblige me by going in my place to see and read to a poor sick girl? I feel so unwell this morning that I cannot leave the house, and the poor child has sent to me. I can think of no one but you to supply my place. Your affectionate aunt, ELLEN FAWCETT. "There is no fear of infection. The address is 9, Willan's-square, Wellington-street."

One of the most disagreeable streets in the town. But Mary did not think of that her thought was-" Why did aunt send for me? I am sure I cannot talk to the child!"

:

But she went, and was well rewarded.

"I must have seen you before somewhere; I seem to know your face." A bright flush answered her, and a timid voice replied :

"You saw me at Fenchurch Sunday school, ma'am, I came with Sarah Foster one day."

And instantly Mary remembered the tall, awkward girl, she had been half vexed with "Sarah Foster" for bringing. She was so much" too big for her teaching."

"What shall I read to you?" said Mary, as she listlessly turned over the leaves of her little Bible.

Again the bright flush, and the stammering, hesitating voice :

"Please, ma'am, would you read what you taught us about that day?" "What was it, dear? Let me see-I forget."

The voice grew braver :—

“Oh, ma'am, it was so nice. It was about Jesus; and-and when I got so ill, I thought and thought about it, and wished He loved me; and" "Go on, dear; and what?"

Mary's heart smote her for the little love she had had for her Saviour's children. That heart was softening now.

"I've tried to ask Him, as you said, and it makes me glad to do that, for sometimes I think He hears, but I'm not sure; and-I'm so big, and I don't know anything," she added with a sigh.

Mary's eyes were full enough now. A sudden rush of feeling came over her; her selfish, wayward heart, her want of love for Christ and His little ones, her yielding disposition when Satan tempted her to discouragement. But she turned from all these thoughts now, for, plain enough, there was active duty before her.

"I will teach you something, poor girl."

And she read some of her Saviour's own words of love to the longing

soul; and returned home to wait herself upon Him who could" renew her strength," and enable her "to walk, and not faint."

And is it not enough for us to hope that from some young heart in our classes we have removed, by God's permission, the veil that hid from it the lights of "Home," and have taught it the sweet "hosanna" which it will one day delight to chant within the courts of heaven?

True, our way is often in the dark, but let us take firm hold of the promise, "According to your faith, be it unto you."-Church of England Sunday School Teachers' Magazine.

NATURAL EXPRESSIONS OF THE PASSIONS.

EVERY sentiment of the mind has particular parts of the body in corres pondence with it, and affected by it. Hatred, scorn, love, suspicion, confidence, admiration, and every other passion of the mind, have particular muscles in sympathy with them, and affect the features in a particular manner; so that in remote villages, and in those countries, where the emotions of the heart are not attempted to be concealed or disguised, it is an easy matter to know the state of men's minds by looking in their faces. But in more artificial societies, in great cities, and in courts, where many are struggling for the same object, where there is an everlasting jarring of interest, where men are anxious to conceal their designs and their wishes, and dare not avow the real motives of their actions, it is difficult to judge of the feelings of the heart by what appears in the countenance, yet in the midst of all this affectation and disguise, men of experience and penetration will often see real joy through artificial tears, genuine sadness in assumed gaiety, and inveterate hatred lurking under all the officious smiling display of kindness. Art cannot long carry on a successful war with nature; men cannot be on their guard, or keep their features in everlasting constraint, the genuine passion will occasionally shew itself in the countenance, by the sympathising muscles; the hypocrite is at that instant detected, and all his future grimaces are in vain.-Dr. John Moore, a Physician of the last century.

ONE SUNDAY SCHOOL CAN DO A GREAT DEAL OF GOOD.

A HOME MISSIONARY organized a Sunday school in a neighbourhood and supplied it with books; but there was not a professor of religion in the place, and the missionary was obliged to go some distance to find a superintendent. The school continued between four and five months, and was the only opportunity for moral instruction they ever enjoyed. A few weeks since, a minister came into the place and preached, "and at once it was manifest that a work of grace had commenced." All the older children and youth who were instructed in the Sunday school gave evidence of genuine repentance; some old persons, hardened and profane, bowed before the mighty influence of the gospel. They have organized a church, and now enjoy the stated means of grace, and the work is still going on. A brighter day has dawned on that dark spot.

MOTHER.

How many pleasing recollections does that good old word awaken! Who can forget his mother? who nursed him in infancy, instructed him in childhood, and counselled him in youth; whose love is unchangeable, and and which nothing can quench-not even death itself. Who can describe a mother's love-its depth, power, and immutability? A mother's love seems more than human.

How lasting is the influence of a mother! It is ever with us. How beneficial it is in restraining from sin? How often when sorely tempted does the love we bear towards a mother, alone keep us from yielding to temptations! If we have strayed from the path of virtue, how often does the mention of a mother's name bring tears of penitence and promises of reform! Yes, the lessons and the principles taught us in childhood by our mothers are life-long,

If the world frowns upon us and our friends forsake us, we can always find a friend and comforter in our mother; and one who is ever ready to share in all our sorrows and joys, and to bear with all our failings. Oh, what a blessing is a good, pious mother! It is one of God's best gifts to man, and displays His goodness and love to him. We cannot respect and love our mother too much. We shall never be able to repay the debt we owe for her labors of love to us. It should ever be our endeavor to make her declining years as comfortable and as happy as possible.

ROBERT RAIKES AND THE SOLDIER.

"ONE day," says Robert Raikes, of Gloucester, the institutor of Sunday schools, "I overtook a soldier just entering the church-door. This was on a week-day. As I passed him, I said it gave me great pleasure to see that he was going to a place of divine worship." "Ah, sir," said he, "I may thank you for that." "Me?" said I; "why, I do not know that I ever saw you before." "Sir," said he, " when I was a little boy I was indebted to you for my first instruction in my duty. I used to meet you at the morning-service in this cathedral, and was one of your Sunday scholars. My father, when he left this city took me into Berkshire, and put me apprentice to a shoemaker. I used often to think of you. At length I went to London, and was there drawn to serve as a militiaman in the Westminster militia. I came to Gloucester last night with a deserter; and I took the opportunity of coming this morning to visit the old spot, and in the hope of once more seeing you." He then told me his name, and brought himself to my recollection by a curious circumstance which happened whilst he was at school. His father was a journeyman currier, a most vile profligate man. After the boy had been some time at school, he came one day and told me that his father was wonderfully changed; that he had left off going to the alehouse on Sunday: It happened soon after, that I met the man in the street, and said to him, "My friend, it gives me great pleasure to hear that you have left off going to the ale-house on Sunday; your boy tells me that you now stay at home, and never get tipsy." "Sir," said he, "I may thank you for it." Nay," said I," that is impossible: I do not recollect that I ever spoke to you before." No, sir," said he; "but the good instruction you give my boy he brings home to me; and it is that, sir, which has induced me to reform my life."