misses?" said the young woman, turning back to the children, who stood at the door. The children looked grave, and hung back a little while: at last Lucy stepped forward first, and the others followed. The young woman led them, through the lower room of the cottage, to a little door opening upon a narrow staircase. When they came to the door, they perceived a kind of disagreeable smell, such as they never had smelt before: this was the smell of the corpse, which, having been dead now nearly two days, had begun to corrupt; and as the children went higher up the stairs, they perceived this smell more disagreeably.

The body of the old man was laid out upon the bed in the upper room: the poor old wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, with Mrs. Goodriche, were sitting round the bed. The face of the corpse was quite yellow, there was no colour in the lips, the nose looked sharp and long, and the eyes were closed, and sunk under the brow: the limbs of the corpse, stretched out upon the bed and covered with a sheet, looked longer than is natural: and the whole appearance of the body was more ghastly and horrible than the children expected, and making out the words of Job; "But man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up; so man lieth down, and riseth not: till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep. Thou prevailest for ever against him, and he passeth; thou changest his countenance, and sendest him away." Job xiv. 10-12, 20.

They all three stood looking at the corpse for a long time, without speaking one word. At last Mr. Fairchild said, "My dear children, you now see what death is: this poor body is going fast to corruption. The soul, I trust, is with God; and my reason for this hope is, that the poor man, when living, was a follower of the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, his Redeemer; but such are the taint and corruption of the flesh, by reason of sin, that it must pass through the grave, and crumble to dust. And this shows the exceeding sinfulness of sin, and its horrible nature, that the soul, which has sinned, must be born again, and the sinful body be dissolved, and fall to dust in the grave. Remember these things, my children, and pray to God to save you from sin."

"Oh, s'r!" said Mrs. Roberts, "it comforts me to

hear you talk! I know that my poor husband loved his Saviour, and trusted in him for salvation; therefore I do not sorrow as one without hope. I know that my poor man is happy, through his dear Saviour. But it would comfort me, sir, if you would join with us in prayer before you go, round my poor man's bed."

Mrs. Roberts then called her son and his wife, and they all knelt down round the bed, to pray that they might also, when the hour of death came, be found in Christ. I shall put down Mr. Fairchild's prayer in this place for your use, with the hymn which they all sang together afterward.

A Prayer for a Happy Death.

O Lord God, Almighty Father! thou knowest that in a very little time this my soul must go out of my body, and appear before thee! and this my sinful body must go down to the grave, and there corrupt and fall to pieces, and lie in the dust till the morning of the resurrection; at which time the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised; and they "that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt." Daniel xii. 2.

O holy Trinity! hear the prayers of a poor child. Grant unto me, all-glorious Three in One, that I may, when death visits me, be found in Christ, washed from my sins through faith in his precious blood, and endued with a new heart and new spirit through the power of the Holy Ghost. My heart by nature is full of wickedness: I can do nothing good without help from God. I am not fit to go to heaven: I know that if sinners, such as I am, were to go there, that holy place would become unclean: I know, also, that there is no repentance after death; and that when people die wicked, they must remain wicked for ever. Oh, therefore, dear Lord and Saviour! now, now, before death comes, give me a clean heart and a new nature! And although this my filthy body must see corruption, and fall to pieces in the grave, yet, O Lord! O bleeding and dying Lamb! save my immortal soul: and make it clean and white now, at this present time; and when it leaves this my body, receive it into thy bosom, as Abrahamı received Lazarus.

O plead and supplicate for me, blessed Redeemer! thou whose sides were pierced for me! thou who wast nailed upon the cross for me! thou who wentest down

into darkness and the grave for me, a sinful child! plead for me before the throne of God; that he would send his Holy Spirit to cleanse and purify my heart, that I may be ready, when death comes, to give up my body to the worms and the grave, knowing that at the last day it will rise again, without spot or blemish, being made in the likeness of the Lamb, which is without blemish and without spot.

And now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be all honour and glory, world without end. Amen.

"Our Father," &c. &c.

HYMN XVII.

O FOR an overcoming faith
To cheer my dying hours,
To triumph o'er the monster Death,
And all his frightful pow'rs!

Joyful, with all the strength I have,
My quiv'ring lips shall sing,
"Where is thy boasted vict'ry, Grave?
And where the monster's sting?"

If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure:
Death hath no sting beside;

The law gives sin the damning pow'r,
But Christ, my ransom, died

Now to the God of Victory

Immortal thanks be paid,

Who makes us conqu'rors while we die

Through Christ, our living Head!

FATAL EFFECTS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO
PARENTS.

WHEN Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild returned from the old gardener's, they found John ready with the cart; so, wishing Mrs. Goodriche a good evening, and thanking her for all her kindness, they returned home.

The next morning Mr. Fairchild got up early, and went down to the village. Breakfast was ready, and Mrs. Fairchild and the children waiting at the table when he came back. "Get your breakfast, my dear," said he to Mrs. Fairchi d; “ don't wait for me." So say

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ing, he went into his study and shut the door. Mrs. Fairchild, supposing that he had some letters to write, got her breakfast quietly; after which, she sent Lucy to ask her papa if he would not choose any breakfast. When Mr. Fairchild, heard Lucy's voice at the study door, he came out and followed her into the parlour.

When Mrs. Fairchild looked at her husband's face, she saw that something had grieved him very much. She was frightened, and said, "My dear, I am sure something is the matter; what is it? Tell me the worst at once; pray do."

"Indeed, my dear,” said Mr. Fairchild, “I have heard something this morning which has shocked me dreadfully. I was not willing to tell you before you had breakfasted. I know what you will feel when you hear it."

"Do, do tell it me," said Mrs. Fairchild, turning quite white.

"Poor Augusta Noble !" said Mr. Fairchild.

"What, papa?" said Lucy and Emily and Henry, in onc voice.

"She is dead," said Mr. Fairchild.

The children turned as pale as their mother; and poor Mrs. Fairchild would have dropped off her chair, if Betty, guessing what was the matter (for she had heard the news too, though she had not chosen to tell it), had not run in and held her in her arms.

"Oh! poor Lady Noble! poor Lady Noble !" said Mrs. Fairchild, as soon as she could speak: "poor Lady Noble !"

As soon as their mamma spoke, the children all together began to cry and sob, which affected Mr. Fairchild so much that he hastened into his study again and shut the door.

While the children were crying, and Betty holding Mrs. Fairchild, for she continued very faint and sick, Mrs. Barker came into the parlour. Mrs. Barker was a kind woman; and as she lived by herself, was always at liberty to go among her neighbours in times of trouble. 66 Ah, Mrs. Fairchild!" she said, "I know what troubles you; we are all in grief, through the whole village."

When Mrs. Fairchild saw Mrs. Barker, she began to shed tears, which did her much good; after which she was able to ask Mrs. Barker what was the cause of the

poor child's death, "as," said she, "I never heard that she was ill."

"Ah! Mrs. Fairchild, the manner of her death is the worst part of the story, and that which must grieve her parents more than all. You know that poor Miss Augusta was always the darling of her mother, who brought her up in great pride, without fear of God or knowledge of religion: nay, Lady Noble would even mock at religion and religious people in her presence; and she chose a governess for her who had no more of God about her than herself."

"I never thought much of that Miss Beaumont," said Mrs. Fairchild.

"As Miss Augusta was brought up without the fear of God," continued Mrs. Barker, "she had, of course, no notion of obedience to her parents, further than just striving to please them in their presence; she lived in the constant practice of disobeying them; and the governess continually concealed her disobedience from Lady Noble. And what is the consequence? The poor child has lost her life; and Miss Beaumont is turned out of doors in disgrace."

"But," said Mrs. Fairchild, "how did she lose her life through disobedience to her parents? Pray tell me, Mrs. Barker."

"The story is so shocking I tremble to tell you," answered Mrs. Barker; "but you must know it sooner or later.-Miss Augusta had a custom of playing with fire, and carrying candles about, though Lady Noble had often warned her of the danger of this habit, and had strictly charged her governess to prevent it. But it seems that the governess, being afraid of offending, had suffered her very often to be guilty of this piece of disobedience, without telling Lady Noble. And the night before last, when Lady Noble was playing at cards in the drawing-room, with some visiters, Miss Augusta took a candle off the hall table, and carried it up stairs to the governess's room. No one was there, and it is supposed that Miss Augusta was looking in the glass with the candle in her hand, when the flame caught her dress; but this is not known. Lady Noble's maid, who was in an adjoining room, was alarmed by her dreadful screams, and hastening to discover the cause, found poor Augusta in a blaze, from head to foot; the unhappy young lady was so dreadfully burnt that she never spoke