Pages, 10, 21, 34, 46, 58, 71, 83, 94, 107, 119, 131, 140. THE FIRESIDE. Pages, 12, 24, 36, 48, 60, 72, 84, 96, 108, 120, 132, 142. THE PENNY POST BOX. Pages, 13, 25, 37, 49, 61, 73, 85, 97, 109, 121, 133, 142. FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETIC SELECTIONS. Gems, 15, 27, 39, 51, 63, 75, 87, 92, 111, 123, 135, 143. Poetic Selections, 15, 27, 39, 51, 63, 75, 87, 99, 111, 123, 135, 144. CHILDREN'S CORNER. Pages, 16, 28, 40, 52, 64, 76, 88, 100, 112, 124, 136, 144. THE DREAM OF A LONDON APPRENTICE. In a corner of a dark warehouse, at the back of a dark house, in the midst of a dark street in London, a young apprentice boy one day seated himself upon a bale of dusty goods, and presently fell asleep. Poor Francis (that was his name) was not at this time very happy in his mind; though had he known a little more of life, he would have seen much greater reason to be contented with his circumstances than he now did. He had been brought up in the country, perhaps too tenderly, by a very fond mother, a widow; she died; and then he was bound apprentice, by the assistance of his relations, to a London tradesman. Francis fancied he was treated with little kindness in his master's family. Perhaps this partly arose from his ignorance of the world, and mistaken ideas of what may reasonably be expected from those we have to do with. It is probable, too, he had never reflected that in the view of mere men of business, sentiment, in all its varieties, is the most worthless kind of dead stock that can lay upon one's hands. Being quite unaccustomed to the prompt and brisk dispatch of London business, he felt at first bewildered and discouraged by the smart orders he received, and the strict attention to them that was required; and he saw no one around him whose counsel he could ask, much less whose sympathy he could invite. For he was but a boy, and the tall lads and smart young men who brushed past him fifty times in a day, up and down the long shop, took no other notice of Francis than scolding him when they were cross, and laughing at him when they were merry. His mistress was, he thought, a very fine lady, but he never saw her more than once a day from the remotest end of a long dining table; and then the tone of voice in which she used to say, "Do you choose any more, Francis?" did not much encourage him to open his heart to her. As for his master, he was so many removes from him in dignity and office, that very little intercourse passed between them. It was one afternoon, after having been employed all the preceding part of the day in the warehouse, that Francis, fatigued and melancholy, fell asleep, as before related. Joy and hope keep youthful eyelids open; but the dispirited yield readily to sleep. Francis's dream, in the early part of it, was (like dreams in general) too indistinct and unconnected to be at all worthy of THE DREAM OF A LONDON APPRENTICE. notice; but it gradually became more rational; and as well as he can remember, it was to this effect:-He thought that he rose to leave the warehouse; but upon entering the long passage that led to the front of the house, it appeared so unusually dark that he shrunk back, and would have returned, but something compelled him to proceed. At every step he thought the darkness increased, and the passage became so extremely narrow that he could with difficulty creep along upon his hands and knees. It was exceedingly cold, and Francis experienced a horror altogether indescribable. The passage too seemed to lengthen as he proceeded, and he began to despair of reaching the end, when a dim and distant light suddenly discovered it to him. As he advanced, he found that the light proceeded from the crevices of the door at the end of the passage: and it now seemed as if the apartment beyond must be illumined with something brighter than sunbeams. When at length he reached the door, he perceived that it was fastened with bars of massy iron, and exhausted as he was, he despaired of being able to force it open; but, to his great and joyful surprise, it gently unfolded itself and he entered. And now, instead of the dull apartment he was accustomed to see, he found himself at the extremity of a widely-extended lawn, from which arose a spacious and magnificent palace. Noble avenues, spicy groves, beds of flowers, and bowers of roses, cooling rivulets, and sparkling cascades, all shining beneath a cloudless sky, presented themselves to his delighted view. While he was gazing on this agreeable scene, several persons of extraordinary grace and beauty, respectfully approached him, and with smiles of complacency informed him that he was the sole proprietor of this fine estate, Whereupon they conducted him to the interior of the palace, which appeared furnished with every thing to gratify his utmost wishes; and where he found himself surrounded with a chosen circle of intelligent and affectionate friends, who vied with each other in promoting his rare felicity. But there was something besides all this, which it is impossible for language to express. Over the scenery of a pleasing dream there is spread a rich glow of colouring, an air of enchantment, so unlike the tints and aspect of this world, that they seem as if designed on purpose to form a contrast with the dulness of the brightest reality. Dreams represent things present, as hope does the future, and memory the past. Such Francis now beheld: it was enchanted ground; surpassing even the visions of youthful fancy. The THE DREAM OF A LONDON APPRENTICE. radiant sunshine, the richness of the extended prospect, the hills of pearl and gold that glowed in the distance, the oriental magnificence of the palace-above all, the refined and romantic intercourse he enjoyed with his companions, excited in his bosom thrills of indescribable ecstasy. A milk-white steed, richly caparisoned, was now led up by a train of servants, on which he was about to survey the distant parts of his estate: but which, in the tantalizing spirit of a dream, he made repeated and ineffectual efforts to mount, with his foot on the stirrup, and no visible impediment, something constantly retarded him as often as he endeavoured to rise:-at length, just as he was resolving to give one effectual spring-the rattling of a mail coach that drove furiously through the narrow street, with the piercing notes of the guard's horn, suddenly awoke him, and it being now dark, the lamps flashing as they passed on the ceiling and lumber of the warehouse, perfectly restored him to his recollection. Who has not experienced the blankness of awaking from a dream of ecstasy to the dull reality of present circumstances? No wonder that Francis returned to his employment with a deeper feeling of the joylessness of his situation. For several days the impression of his dream remained so strongly on his imagination, that he began to think it must be interpreted in favour of his future fortune. There was an old porter, called Stephen, much esteemed for his sobriety and fidelity, who had served many years in this business. His good-natured look and obliging manner often attracted the attention of Francis: and happening one day, soon after this, to be sent to him on some business in the cellars, where Stephen was generally employed, he entered into conversation with him: and in hope of a flattering interpretation, presently related his dream. 'Well, master Francis," said the old porter, when he had finished, “there is nothing in all this but what you may one day come to, if you do but go the right way to work for it." "Indeed! are you in earnest?" said Francis. "Ah! I suppose you think I have rich relations; but do you know, my old friend (for I don't mind speaking to you, because you look good-natured) that though I am apprenticed to this great business, I am but a poor boy; for I have no father, nor mother either, now; nor any fortune of my own, so that it is very unlikely, is it not, that I should ever come to a fine estate ?" 66 'Not more unlikely than that I should," replied the porter; . THE DREAM OF A LONDON APPRENTICE. "and do you know, my young friend, I have good expectations of as great things, and greater too, than any you saw in your dream?” Here Francis expressed his surprise; and with a look of incredulity requested an explanation. Whereupon the old porter said that if he would not believe him, he would show him the titledeeds of his estate; and reaching an old brown book from a shelf where he always kept it, and putting on his spectacles, he presently pointed Francis to a part which he desired him to read. The words were these: "In my Father's house are many mansions; I go to prepare a place for you." "Dear!" said Francis, "that is only a text in the Bible; do you think I never read that before? You are joking with me, I fancy." "Oh no, my dear lad, I am quite serious," said the porter, and if you will have patience to hear me, I'll tell you what I mean. I was but a lad like you, very little older than you are, when it pleased God to convince me that if I should gain the whole world and lose my own soul, it would profit me nothing. I was in a great deal of trouble and pain of mind about this until I heard that the Lord Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, and that I, poor unworthy lad as I was, might come to him, and that he would not cast me out. So I believed that he would save me from my sins, and that he would give me, yes, even me, everlasting life. O! it was a wonderful thing! but as God had promised it, who was I that I should dare to doubt it? Well, from that time to this I have gone on my way believing in Christ for all I need. It is true I have had to work hard, and sometimes to fare hard, year after year and as to the great things of this world, I have had nothing to do with them; but then, I often think to myself, when I am at work in this cellar, and hear the chariots rolling past in the street above, what does that signify? It is but waiting a few years, and, if I do but persevere in the good ways of God, what great things will be mine! Why God himself hath assured us that there is nothing in this world to be compared with what he is preparing for them that love him. Think what one of these mansions will be, that Jesus is gone to make ready and then, as in your dream, there is but one dark and cold passage to pass before I enter on my heavenly inheritance. master Francis, never be fretting yourself because you are not likely to come to such a fine estate in this world as that you saw in your dream; but rejoice to think that there is something far better, which God will give you if you do but ask him: so rare 0, |