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The Children's Messenger.

THE GARRET HOME.

A GENTLEMAN was one day visiting some destitute families in one of the poorest parts of London. After climbing a number of stairs, which conducted to the top of one of the houses, he observed a ladder leading to a door close upon the slates. He thought it most unlikely that any living being would be found dwelling there; but in order to satisfy himself he resolved upon ascending the ladder. On reaching the door, he found it so low that he was obliged to stoop before he could enter. "Is there any one there?" he inquired.

"Come in," answered a feeble voice. He entered, and found a little boy, the solitary tenant of this wretched home. There was no bed-no furniture of any kind. Some straw and shavings in one corner formed the poor little fellow's seat by day, and his couch by night.

"Why are you here?" inquired the kind visitor. "Have you a father?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you a mother?"

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'No, sir; mother is in the grave." "Where is your father? You must surely weary very much for his coming home in this dark solitary place?'

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"No, sir," replied the boy, sorrowfully. "My father gets drunk. He used to send me out to steal, and whatever I stole he spent in drinking."

"Does he not make you do so still?" "I went," replied the boy, "to the Ragged School, and I was there taught the words, Thou shalt not steal.' I was told about heaven and hell-that Jesus Christ came to save sinners-that God punishes the bad and loves the good; and I resolved, from that time, I would steal no more. Now," continued the little sufferer, "my father himself steals, and then gets tipsy; and then he gets angry at me, and is cruel to me, and whips me, because I will no longer steal."

"Poor little boy!" said the gentleman, deeply interested in the sad history. "I am sorry, indeed, for you. You must feel very lonely here."

"No," said the other, with a smile on his face; "I am not alone. God is with me; Christ is with me. I am not alone!"

The gentleman took out his purse, and gave him a small trifle, promising that he would come back again and see him on the morrow.

"Stop!" said the little fellow, as his kind visitor was preparing to go down the ladder, "I can sing." And so saying, he commenced, in simple strains, the beautiful hymn with which he loved to cheer his solitude :

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,

Look upon a little child,

Pity my simplicity,

distress, and the character of the desolate child; and next day he told the case to a lady he knew would feel interested in him. The lady requested that he would kindly accompany her to the boy's dwelling, to which he readily consented. Taking along with her a bundle of clothes, which might be useful to him, they made their way together up the dark stairs of the house, till they reached the ladder. On ascending the steps, and coming to the door, they knocked; but there was no reply. They knocked again, still no reply! Again; but still no voice, as before, calling, "Come in."

The gentleman opened the door. The bed, the straw, the shavings, were just as he had left them. The boy was there too; but he was DEAD! The body lay on the bed of straw; but the spirit had fled away to the God who gave it!

Dear children, learn from this affecting story these three things:

:

I. The poorest may serve God.

II. The loneliest need not feel solitary.
III. The youngest may die.

I. The poorest may serve God.

I know many think, that if they were not so poor as they are, they might serve God better, or if they had friends who loved God more, they would serve Him better. This little boy tells us how wrong it is to think so. Whatever our situation in life may be, we may (if we will) love and serve the Lord Jesus. This boy was poor-the poorest of the poor. He had every temptation to be bad. His father was a wicked man. His example might have made his child wicked too. In order to get his daily bread, he was strongly tempted to tell lies, and steal, and do sinful things. He had no mother to teach him to love God, and say his prayers, and read his Bible. He had even no clothes to go to church, and yet he feared God, and would rather be beaten than do what was sinful. He praised the name of Jesus, and died happy. Angels carried him up to heaven.

can say,

Children, remember wherever you are now, or wherever you go in after-life, you never "I cannot serve God. I have no time or opportunity to be religious." Think of this poor outcast, with his tattered clothes, and straw bed, and wicked father, and many temptations, and yet he was a Christian.

II. The loneliest need not feel solitary.

This little boy was left alone by himself in that miserable garret. No kindly voice was there to speak to him. The angry tones of his drunken father's voice was all he ever heard, and they made him tremble. But he was not alone.

The great God, the best Friend, was with him. He could say in his solitary hours, "My father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord has taken me up!" He had heard the gentle voice of his Saviour, saying, "I will not leave you an orphan-I will come to you." Oh! how was that dark and desolate chamber made bright with the face of Jesus! When the little boy came to die, there was no earthly hand to The gentleman was touched with the tale of smooth his pillow. He died alone; and yet he

Suffer me to come to thee.

"Fain would I to thee be brought,
Gracious God! forbid it not,
In the kingdom of thy grace,
Give a little child a place!

was not alone. In walking through "the valley of the shadow of death," he could say, "I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me!"

Reader, how blessed to think that if you are a child of God you never can be alone! In the dark night-in the lonely way--in the faroff land-in the raging ocean-on the bed of sickness-on the couch of death-Jesus is with you. He will make the darkest place bright, and the saddest place happy. What a glorious assurance! How it should drive away all our fears, to think, "Jesus is Friend!" my

III. The youngest may die. The little beggar boy was cheerful and happy in his garret one day-the next he was in eternity! One forenoon an earthly friend came with a bundle of clothes to cover his body; but they were not needed. He was already clothed in better garments. He was wearing the white robe of the redeemed saints

before the throne.

Happy exchange! From singing about Jesus in a miserable dwelling on earth, to be carried up to be with Jesus for ever in heaven! Reader, would you be ready for such a call? To-day you are in health, perhaps you may never see to-morrow's sun. "This night thy soul may be required of thee." "Prepare to meet thy God!

ONE SIN LEADS TO ANOTHER. It was a beautiful day when little Lavanda's school closed; and the boys were looking for ward to a fine time during their long summer vacation.

"Do not go near the pond, Lavanda," said the fond mother, as he left the parental roof. But Lavanda did not always remember the command, "Children, obey your parents." This was his first sin. Leaving home, he went at the back of the meeting-house, to the forbidden spot. This was the second. Finding some boys, among whom was Samuel Gplaying near the pond, he accepted Samuel's invitation to bathe. This was the third.

Soon the rest of the lads ran away to the school-house to meet their beloved teacher. Lavanda climbed upon an old pair of stairs which were floating about the pond, and jumped off. As he did not rise again, Samuel was frightened-ran to the shore, dressed, and hastened to the school!

When Lavanda's sister went home at noon, her mother said, "Where is your brother?" "I do not know," was the reply; "he has not been at school this morning." The father started at once for the pond. There lay Lavanda's clothes on the white sand. Wading in until the water was three or four feet deep, he stooped down and raised up the cold, lifeless body of his son.

In sight of the spot, within the sound of Samuel's voice, was a workshop, in which were some ten or fifteen men. Why, then, did he not cry for help, as he saw his playmate sink? It was because, if he did this, it would show that he had been to the pond, and disobeyed his parents. So rather than make known his own sin, he left his little playmate to die.

A beautiful pond is that at E B-; but sad and heart-rending must be the thoughts of

Samuel G- -, as he looks upon it and remembers, "The fact that because I did not obey my parents I caused the death of my early associate, Lavanda D." My young reader, beware of the first sin. You know not what will be the second. You know not what may be the terrible results of the first.-American Messenger.

DYING WORDS OF WILBERFORCE. "COME, and sit near me; let me lean on you," said Wilberforce to a friend a few minutes before his death. Afterward, putting his arms around that friend, he said: "God bless you, my dear." He became agitated Presomewhat, and then ceased speaking. sently, however, he said, "I must leave you, my fond friend; we shall walk no further through this world together; but I hope we

shall meet in heaven. Let us talk of heaven. Do not weep for me, dear F- -, do not weep; for I am very happy; but think of and let the thought make you press forward. I never knew happiness till I found Christ as a Sa

me,

viour. Read the Bible-read the Bible! Let no religious book take its place. Through all my perplexities and distresses I never read any other book, and I never felt the want of any other. It has been my hourly study; and all my knowledge of the doctrines, and all my acquaintance with the experience and realities of religion, have been derived from the Bible only. I think religious people do not read the Bible enough. Books about religion may be useful enough, but they will not do instead of the simple truth of the Bible." He afterwards spoke of the regret of parting with his friends. "Nothing," said he, "convinces me more of the reality of the change within me, than the feelings with which I can contemplate a separation from my family. I now feel so weaned from earth, my affections so much in heaven, that I can leave you all without a regret; yet I do not love you less, but God more."

"THE CHILD IS FATHER TO THE MAN."

SOLOMON said, many centuries ago, "Even a child is known by his doings whether his work be pure, and whether it be right."

Some people seem to think that children have no character at all. On the contrary, an observing eye sees in these young creatures the signs of what they are likely to be for life.

When I see a boy in haste to spend every penny as soon as he gets it, I think it a sign that he will be a spendthrift.

When I see a boy hoarding up his pennies, and unwilling to part with them for any good purpose, I think it a sign that he will be a miser.

When I see a boy or girl always looking out for himself or herself, and disliking to share good things with others, I think it is a sign that he will be a very selfish person.

When I see boys and girls often quarrelling, I think it a sign that they will be hateful men and women.

When I see a boy willing to taste strong drink, I think it a sign that he will be a drunkard.

When I see a boy who never attends to the

services of religion, and who is in the habit of Sabbath-breaking, I think it a sign that he will be a profane and profligate man.

When I see a child obedient to his parents, I think it a sign of great future blessings from his heavenly Parent.

When I see a boy fond of the Bible, and well acquainted with it, I think it a sign that he will be a pious and happy man.

And though great changes sometimes take place in the character, yet, as a general rule, these signs do not fail.

THE KHUND FUND FOR 1851. DEAR YOUNG READERS,-It gives us great pleasure to tell you that your efforts to raise fifty pounds for the poor Khund children have been more than successful. You will see by the figures at the bottom of the list that 637. 19s. 24d. has been contributed; and when we have paid out of it our only expenses, the printing of the collecting cards, there will remain a clear balance of 591. 5s. 24d. as our KHUND FUND FOR 1851.

As we made the collection for the Khund children we feel that we are bound to apply it for their benefit, and in order to do this wisely we have written to a much-esteemed missionary stationed on the borders of the Khund country, who will, we have little doubt, afford us the information we desire.

As letters are not sent into the interior of India quite so rapidly as they are transmitted here, it may be some weeks before we are able to tell you what he says; but we do not fear that you will think good advice dearly bought at the price of a few weeks' patience.

It was our intention to have acknowledged each contributor's name, but this we find will take up more space than we can afford; we are therefore reluctantly obliged to omit them. Amount formerly acknowledged..£41 2 73 Regent-square Sabbath-school.-Second

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Collection

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Little boys at Miss Eggar's, Titchfield, Hants....

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1 1 10

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Collected by Miss Thompson and Miss Jackson

Collected by M. A. Walker and M. B. Walker, Birkenhend Collected by Mr. Davidson, Powburn

Collected by Miss Anne Horne, Islington

Collected at Cape Sabbath-schools, Smeetwick, by Miss Laura M. Caldwell

Collected at Cape Sabbath-schools, Smeetwick, by Miss Robson.... Collected by Jessie Veitch (First List)

09 2

0 0 3

0 10 0

0 10 6

1 69

0 11 0

2 6

Collected by Jessie Veitch (Second

2

6

List)

0 12 0

26

078

6

026

0 14 3

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Children of the Presbyterian Sabbath-school, Crewe...

Collected by Joseph Edwards, Sherborn-street

Collected by Jane Ewen

Collected by Mrs. Anderson, Adderston

Collected by Mary and Jane A.

Hunter..

Collected by James Utterson

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Collected by Jessie Veitch (Third
List)

Collected by Master Wm. Hendrie,
Knowsley

Collected by Mary Louisa Stewart,
Manchester

Collected by a Working Man, Mor-
peth

Total Amount Collected £63 19 24 Less Printing 8000 Collecting

Cards..

4 14 0

£59 5 24

THE ENGLISH

PRESBYTERIAN MESSENGER.

Original Papers.

ROME IN 1851.

"To speak of the priest in Italy twelve years ago was to speak of Jesus Christ Himself; to speak of the priest to-day is to speak of the devil." This was the reply given in 1851, to the question of a stranger, by an honest, out-spoken Italian, when asked with what feeling his nation. regarded the priesthood now, compared with that which generally existed twelve years ago.

Travel from Turin to Naples, and ask the same question of any respectable intelligent Italian, unconnected with the priesthood, and not bound over to silence by Government influence, the form of the reply will vary with the man who makes it, but in few cases will the substance of it vary much. Ask it in Piedmont, the answer will be loud, unhesitating, clear, for there is no reign of terror there; and, though the Piedmontese suffer little from the clergy at this hour, they have too many recollections of the past and too many fears for the future to let the question sleep; while the presence among them of 60,000 exiles is fitted to throw strong and practical light upon it. Ask the same question in Tuscany,-you will be answered with timid caution, and with all the apprehensiveness of those on whom the full weight of tyranny is just descending, and who know not what is to befall them next, certain only of this, that, since the Grand Duke's last pilgrimage to Rome, the liberty of the subject is gone. Ask it in Naples, and the terrified Neapolitan will escape from before you, or tell you that he does not understand your meaning, for he knows that in Ferdinand's city, from the palace to the table d'hôte and street corner, there is an informant everywhere. Throughout the kingdom the law is its own open profaner; crime and perjury are under its protection, and violated justice has fled away. Ask it in Rome, and you will have the united answer of an incensed, yet strangely enduring people; you will read it in their looks, their bearing, their very silence; and individually they will whisper it forth with all the eloquence of anguish, casting a quick glance around, first at yourself, to see whether your own eye be sincere, and then at an open door or window, No. 50.-New Series.

VOL. IV.

lest a spy be watching. A tear will start to the sternest Roman's eye while he speaks of the treachery and the cruelty of the Popedom to his country.

And yet, while the state of Naples is quite as appalling, if we look only at wholesale punishment and death, with a mock trial, coming down upon the flower of the community; and that of Tuscany, even more interesting, if we regard it as the seat of a genuine work of grace, which is still furnishing martyrs for the cells of the Bargello; a deep and a peculiar interest must ever hover around Rome.

Her history has been strange from the beginning,-the legends of her fabled infancy scarce wilder than the authentic annals of her youth and middle age; and though her people had sunk low enough under the combined power of tyranny and superstition, and though long and debasing was their sleep under the opiate delusions and crushing thraldom of the Papacy, yet even then there was volcanic fire in her soil and meteor light in her skies. At no period have there been awanting tokens that there is some charm about her existence and mystery in her fate. The marble has never ceased to grow living under her chisel, nor the traitor to fall by her stiletto. Genius has never died out of the race, whose very crimes have the stamp of tragedy upon them, linking their modern history back to that of the Rome of the Cæsars, and forward, as we had been used to think, to a share in the doom of mystic Babylon.

Twelve years ago it seemed to a stranger's eye as if the Romans were to slumber on; as a whole they seemed degenerate. A patriotic man of the old Latin stock arose from time to time, but disappeared as soon, and was sent to expiate in the Inquisition the sin of independent thought and of possessing a nature more noble than his fellows; or emerged, perhaps, from his confinement, broken-spirited and unmanned, a trained Jesuit, like Silvio Pellico. The people, as a whole, were indolent and careless, not likely to be soon distinguished for anything beyond cameo-cutting and mosaic work, and contentedly spread out as a silken couch for the luxurious Gregory to rest upon. Justice was strangely enough administered towards the close of his Pontificate. "If we wish to gain our cause,” the Romans would jocularly say, "we carry gold to the Pope's barber, Gaetano, otherwise we might wait long enough at the Holy Father's door."

The nation is now awake and instinct with life; while watching its daily ongoings, the image was often forced upon the mind of a restive charger, on which poor trembling Pius is only held by the main force of the cardinals and the soldiery of France; and truly the noble animal is goaded and barbarously lacerated by those whom it might almost have trodden down when it was free. It is impossible to mingle much with the people, without feeling that there are lessons to be gained and sights to be seen within the walls of Rome which will repay a journey across Europe, and which cast the material wonders of the Eternal City into the shade. Perhaps you begin to form a judgment with unpleasing remembrances of their former condition lingering in the mind, and unfavourably prepossessed by some of the countless slanders of the present, to make you all the more impartial. You expect to hear violent language against their oppressors, and to find a blind hatred to the Pope and priests on interested grounds. You may even have heard it asserted, that the respectable classes in Rome were hardly engaged in the resistance of 1849; that they were anxious for the Pope's return; and that it was Garibaldi and his outlawed malcontents who held out so long and kept the Romans down. Setting out with

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