in the righteousness and mediation of their Lord, Redeemer, Saviour, and everlasting High Priest, Jesus Christ. O, preserve this as a legacy and bequest from your unseen friend, S. T. COLERIDGE."

A HOTTENTOT CHILD.

ON a question being put in the girls' school, “Do we possess any thing that we have not received from God?” a little girl of five years old immediately answered, "Yes, sin." The answer was quite spontaneous, the question never having been put before.

LETTER.

THE following letter was addressed by the teacher of a Bible-class to two of his pupils, who, within a few weeks of each other, were deprived of pious and affectionate fathers. Hoping that it may be useful to some of our youthful readers, who may have been called to suffer a similar bereavement, we close our volume with it.

My dear young friend,-It has pleased that God, in whose hands our breath is, to visit you with a very painful trial. Your best earthly friend, the guide of your youth, who loved you so dearly, and whom you had so much reason to love, is no more. Those eyes that have so often beamed upon you with pleasure and affection, are now sealed in death. Those lips that have so often breathed the language of tenderness to you, and of sup

plication to God in your behalf, are now closed for ever. All that was mortal of your beloved parent is laid low in the ground, and the spirit has gone to God who gave it.

My heart is grieved for you under this sad affliction. At a time of life, when you most need the counsels and prayers of a tender and pious parent, to be thus bereaved, must appear to you a trial difficult to be borne; and you may perhaps feel disposed to think that the Lord has dealt hardly with you. But beware how you harbour such a thought. "Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?" "All his ways are righteousness and truth." Rather say with the afflicted but resigned patriarch, "The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

Come now, my dear young friend, and let us inquire why God has sent this affliction on you, and what improvement you shall make of it.

1. God may have designed by this affliction to show you your sins, and bring you to repentance. You have long enjoyed the privilege of having a pious and affectionate father, who earnestly endeavoured to restrain you from sin, and lead you to Christ. How have you

improved the blessing? Have you ever, on your bended knees, thanked God for giving you such a father? Have you prayed that his life might be spared? Have you listened attentively to his instructions, and received patiently and thankfully his reproofs? And are you now walking in his footsteps, and preparing to meet him before the judgment seat? Or are you still pursuing forbidden paths, and living without God and without hope? Oh how loudly this bereavement calls upon you to repent of sin, and give yourself away to the Lord? Then you will be able to say with the Psalmist, "It was good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes."

2. Another reason for the affliction may have been to teach you the emptiness of all earthly possessions, and thus lead you to set your affections on things above. We are too apt to be satisfied with the gift, and forget the giver. When God favours us with health, abundance, friends, and other temporal blessings, how prone we are to set our hearts on them, and to look no higher for happiness. But it never was intended by God, that we should be happy without His favour. He therefore

often takes away these comforts, that we may be made to feel that His favour alone is life, and His loving-kindness better than life. Will you not from this time then, say to God, "My Father, thou art the guide of my youth?"

"Give what Thou wilt, without Thee I am poor,

And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away!”

3. Another object the Lord may have had in view in sending this affliction may have been, to give you an opportunity for the livelier exercise of Christian graces. Though your dear father is far removed beyond the reach of your kindness, you have brothers and sisters who need all your affections and care, and you have a widowed mother. Oh how should that thought, "My mother is a widow," melt your heart into tenderness! Her's is a sorrow which you cannot know. The companion of her youth, the consoler of her sorrow, her kind counsellor and provider is snatched away, and she is left to sigh and weep alone. Do you not feel yourself bound to supply his place, as far as possible, and thus to become