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turned sorrowfully to the coach, with his children; but before the coachman drove away, the clergyman himself came to the door, and said, "Mr. Fairchild, if you are going home, I will take a seat with you in the coach, and drink a dish of tea with Mrs. Fairchild this evening; for I feel in want of a little Christian society." Mr. Fairchild gladly made room for Mr. Somers-for that was the clergyman's name-and the coach drove back to Mr. Fairchild's house.
Ah, Sir!" upon the From the
As they were going along, they talked of nothing but poor Miss Augusta and her parents; and Mr. Fairchild asked Mr. Somers if he knew in what state of mind the poor child had died. said Mr. Somers," you have touched very worst part of the whole business. time of the accident till the time that the breath left her body she was insensible: she had not one moment, as we fear, in which she was capable of reflection; and it is well known that Lady Noble never taught her any thing concerning God and her Redeemer, and never would let any body else: nay, she was taught to mock at religion and pious people. She knew nothing of the evil of her own heart, and nothing of the Redeemer, nor of the sin of disobedience to her parents.
“Oh, Mr. Somers!" said Mr. Fairchild, "what a dreadful story is this! Had this poor child been brought up in the fear of God, she might now have been living, a blessing to her parents and the delight of their eyes. Withhold not correction from the child; for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die: thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell.' (Prov. xxiii. 13, 14.)"
"Poor little Augusta!" said Mr. Somers: Lady Noble would never hearken to me, when I spoke to her on the duty of bringing up her
children in the fear of God. I believe she thought me very impertinent, to speak to her upon the subject."
By this time the coach was arrived at Mr. Fairchild's door. Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Barker were waiting tea for them: they had both been crying, as might be seen by their eyes. After tea, Mr. Somers gave out a hymn, and prayed. I shall put down both the hymn and the prayer this place; altering only a few words, to suit any little child who wishes to use the prayer by him
A Prayer against the Sin of Disobedience to
O Almighty Father! thou who didst command all children to honour their parents, and didst promise to bless those who obeyed this commandment, give me a heart to keep this law. I know that I ought to do all that my father and mother and masters bid me to do, as long as they do not order me to do any thing wicked; and yet my heart, O Lord God, is so utterly averse to all that is good, that I often feel great unwillingness to obey their most plain and simple commands: sometimes I rise up in open rebellion against my parents; and sometimes I try to disobey them slily, when I think that they do not see me; forgetting that thine eye, O Lord God, is always upon me; and though thou, O Lord God, mayest not punish me immediately, yet thou markest all my sins in a book: and I know that the dreadful day will come, when the dead shall be raised, and the books shall be opened; and all I have done, unless I repent and turn unto the Lord, will be read aloud before men and angels, and I shall be cast into hell-fire for my sins.
O holy Father! I am sorry for my disobedience.
O make me more and more sorry for it; and send thy Holy Spirit to give me a clean heart, that I may obey this thy commandment. I know that disobedient children, unless they repent, always come to an ill end: there is no blessing on such as do not honour their parents. O then, dear Saviour, hear my prayer! Thou, that diedst for poor sinners, save a wicked child! Give me a new heart; teach me to be obedient to my parents, and to honour and respect them; that I may be blessed in this present life, and may, through the merits of my dying Redeemer, be received into everlasting glory in the world to come.
Now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be all glory and honour, for ever and ever. Amen. "Our Father," &c.
LET children that would fear the Lord
With rev'rence meet their parents' word,
Have you not heard what dreadful plagues
What heavy guilt upon him lies?
The ravens shall pick out his eyes,
And eagles eat the same!
But those who worship God and give
Their parents honour due,
Here on this earth they long shall live,
THE THREE BOOKS.
IT was the time of the Midsummer Fair; and John asked Mr. Fairchild's leave to go to the fair. "You
may go, John," said Mr. Fairchild; "and take the horse, and bring every thing that is wanting in the family." So John got the horse ready, and set out early in the morning to go to the fair; but, before he went, Emily and Henry and Lucy gave him what money they had, and begged him to bring them each a book. Henry gave him a penny, and Emily gave him two-pence, and Lucy gave him three-pence. "You must choose a book for me with pictures in it," said Henry. "And for me too," said Emily. "I do not care about pictures," said Lucy, "if it is a pretty book. So pray don't forget, John."
In the evening, after tea, the children and their papa and mamma, as usual, got ready to take a walk; and the children begged their papa and mamma to go with them to meet John: "For John," said Henry, "will be coming back now, and will have brought us some pretty books,"
So Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild took the road which led towards the town where the fair was held, and the children ran before them. It was a fine evening. The hedges were full of wild roses, which smelt most sweetly; and the haymakers were making hay in the fields on each side of the road.
"I cannot think where John can be," said Henry: "I thought he would be here long before this time."
"Do not be impatient, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild: "impatience is not pleasing in the eye of your Heavenly Father."
By this time they were come to the brow of a rising ground; and, looking before them, behold, there was John at a distance! The children all ran forward to meet him: "Where are the books, John? Oh, where are the books?" they all said with one voice. John, who was a very goodnatured man, as I have before said, smiled, and,
stopping his horse, began to feel into his pockets; and soon brought out, from among many other things, three little gilt books; the largest of which he gave to Lucy, the least to Henry, and the third to Emily; saying, "Here is one pennyworth-and here is two pennyworth-and there is three pennyworth."
Indeed, John, you are very good," said the children: "what beautiful books!"
"Here are many beautiful pictures in mine," said Henry: "it is about a covetous woman- The History of the Covetous Woman: 1 never read that story before."
"My book," said Emily," is The History of the Orphan Boy:' and there are a great many pictures in it: the first is the picture of a funeral -that must be the funeral of the poor little boy's papa or mamma, I suppose."
"Let me see, let me see," said Henry: "O how pretty! And what's your book, Lucy?"
"There are not many pictures in my book," said Lucy: "but there is one at the beginning it is the picture of a little boy reading to somebody lying in a bed; and there is a lady sitting by. The name of my book is, The History of the Good Child, who was made the Instrument of turning his Father and Mother to the Ways of Holi
"Oh! that must be very pretty!" said Henry. By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come Oh, Papa! Oh, Mamma!" said the little ones, "what beautiful books John has brought!" Indeed," said Mr. Fairchild, when he had looked at them a little while, " they appear to be very nice books: I see they are written in the fear of God; and the pictures in them are very pretty."
Henry shall read them to us, my dears," said