friend of mine, hearing an odd kind of fumbling or rumbling at the front of their dwelling, trembled with terror, jumped out of bed, and bolted or locked their room-door, apprehending robbery, if not murder. You may readily think how the people looked in the morning, and how every woman loudly clamoured, or quietly wondered what had become of her knocker! The lettercarrier took about a great pebble, in order to rap wherever he had to leave a letter. I believe many a door will long remain without a new knocker; for in the beginning of the year we heard of the like prank being played both here, and in the neighbouring town of Deal, and people do not like to lay out money for what will benefit no one. While writing the above, I had to lay down the pen in order to remove my beautiful Eolian harp, (the gift I told you of a little while ago,) the current of air through the window being too powerful I find to-day. O how I love the melody in a mild May morning! I warn you that in the village of Walmer we have very windy weather. Will you, when replying, begin nearly every word with w? If you prefer l or p, you will find little difficulty in either letter, provided your note be not long. Hoping you will continue good and happy, I remain, My dear boy, Walmer, 1840. Your ever faithful friend, ELIZA WEAVER BRADBURn. THE FRAGMENT Referred to in the foregoing Letter. VIEW that terrible army in fury draw nigh, Of faithful, fond love, when the good and the brave, Cannonading and carnage already are there; E. W. B. THE LOST SHILLING. A TRUE STORY. "Do tell me a story, a true story," was the earnest request of little Mary Russell one day, to a friend who had frequently gratified her in a similar manner on former occasions. "Tell you a story? well, what must it be about?" was the reply. "O!I should like to hear about something that you did when you were a little girl, like me." "Indeed, Mary," replied her friend, "I do not know that ever I did anything very remarkable when I was a child, with the exception of once swallowing a shilling." "Do, do tell me about it," eagerly interrupted Mary. “Well, then, you must know I was about six years old, just such another as yourself: indeed, I think rather more giddy and careless. I was sent by my mamma to the servant with a shilling, for the purchase of something she needed: instead of giving it immediately to the person to whom it was sent, I amused myself with it, put it into my mouth, and, unfortunately, swallowed it. "My alarm was very great: I durst not tell mamma, as I was sure she would be distressed about the probable consequences: so I said it had fallen into the fire. Of course a severe reprimand followed my carelessness; but, O! the distress of mind that lie occasioned me for many succeeding years. I had deceived my parents, but I could not deceive an all-seeing God. Never, my dear Mary, tell a falsehood, even though it may be to screen yourself from severe punishment. As I told you before, I was about six years of age, and for a period of eight years, (the length of time I concealed my sin,) I believe scarcely a day passed when it was not brought to my remembrance. I had been early trained by my beloved parents in the knowledge that all sin is hateful in the sight of God; the good Spirit of God had striven with me, ever since I could remember anything; and I did indeed feel that it was 'an evil and a bitter thing to sin against God.' "I was very fond of reading, but when engaged with an interesting book, or in the midst of my studies, an alarming voice seemed whispering in my ear, reminding me of my sin; or when playing with my youthful companions, I used to fancy that a dreadful eye was fixed upon me, reading my inmost thought. If I endeavoured, in my childish way, to pray to God to forgive me, something seemed to tell me I need never expect that until I had confessed how naughty I had been; and this I thought I could not do. After struggling in this miserable condition of mind for several years, when I was about fourteen years old I was brought more earnestly than ever to seek that Saviour against whom I had so grievously sinned. 66 Being in great distress of mind, I went to a pious friend, who talked and prayed with me. To her I opened my mind; for I thought, Unless I tell about the swallowed shilling, I shall never obtain peace with God. My friend pointed me to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world;' and almost immediately I felt him to be my Saviour; and then the burden of that sin which had weighed so heavily upon my conscience for so many years, as well as all others, was gone. I experienced the truth of that scripture, Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins shall have mercy.' I do not know, Mary, whether you will understand all I have told you; but this I can tell you, as I said before, never seek to conceal any thing naughty you may do by telling a falsehood; for be sure your sin will find you out. Perhaps you may not carry the terrifying remembrance about with you as I did; but sooner or later you will feel the sad effects of it. By concealing old sins, and committing new ones, your heart will become hard, and you will find an increasing difficulty in forsaking sin, and coming to the Saviour." H. Y. H. A MOTHER'S COUNSEL. I do not say that fragrant flowers For though the angry tempest roll Untroubled and serene. And when at last thy body lies Beneath the lowly sod, Thy happy spirit shall arise, And dwell with Jesus in the skies: Then give thyself to God. A. N. |