THE TWENTY POUNDS.

In one of those lovely and fertile vales with which England abounds, and in a retired town, some years ago resided a happy and industrious pair, who, in the midst of their toils for daily bread, and their anxiety for the welfare of their family, had not forgotten "the one thing needful." The house of God was their delight, and in his ways they had long found a solace amid all their cares.

In the all-wise dispensation of Providence, the excellent mother, after seeing her children grown up in life, was laid upon the bed of affliction. There she exemplified, as might have been expected, the power of the gospel, in a meek submission of herself and hers into the hands of God. But her departure was connected with the remarkable events I am about to detail. She was ripening for glory about the time the missionary cause was first coming into notice. She had heard of the benevolent project of those pious men who broached the then ridiculed scheme of sending salvation to the heathen; and, just before her death, she called her daughter to her bed-side, and said, with all the solemn but elevated feeling of a dying Christian, Here are twenty pounds; I wish to give them to the missionary cause. It is my particular desire that, after my death, you give them to that cause; and, depend upon it, you will never have any reason to be sorry for having done so."

After my mother's death I took the money," said the daughter, "and gave it according to the dying directions of my dear parent, not thinking that ever that cause would bring comfort to myself." There appeared, indeed, no possibility of the benevolent act returning in any shape to bless the family of the liberal donor. But the daughter who had, with becoming diligence and care, fulfilled her mother's dying request, and who inherited no small portion of her mother's spirit, at length had a son, who, as he grew up, gave symptoms of a state of mind and heart as opposite to that of his mother and grandmother as can be imagined.

As this youth approached man's estate he became very profligate, and brought heart-rending trouble upon his mother. It is useless to describe the pangs a godly mother feels when her first-born, perhaps her favourite son, her hope for the hoary hairs

THE TWENTY POUNDS.

or her widowhood, turns out ill. This youth proved utterly unmanageable either by tenderness or authority. He threw off all regard for his friends-forsook them-entered into the army, and vanished altogether from their knowledge. The providence of God, however, at length led him to India. Here, after some time, he fell into the company of a missionary. The man of God dealt faithfully with the youth, who was much impressed, and could neither gainsay nor get rid of the good man's words. At length his convictions mastered his conscience, and subdued his heart. He became an altered man, and gave such evidences as satisfied the missionary that a work of grace was indeed begun. After a prudent trial of his steadfastness, the missionaries, influenced by a truly liberal and christian-like affection for the young man, procured his discharge from the army, and took him under their own immediate care. At length, so satisfied were they of the devoted piety, the zeal, and the talents of this young convert, that they encouraged him in the design of dedicating his talents to the missionary work. How delightful are the fruits of that grace which subdues the heart to the obedience of faith!

But to return to the narrative. As soon as an opportunity occurred, he wrote to his afflicted mother, stating the great change that had taken place and detailing as well the merciful dealings of the Lord with his soul as the singular alteration which had taken place in his employment. All this was accompanied with the most humiliating expressions respecting himself, and with entreaties for the forgiveness of that kind and pious mother, whose affection he had neither appreciated nor improved. Let a parent conceive the mingled emotions of joy and surprise, of rapture and astonishment, which filled the mother's heart when she received this letter-when she read her profligate son's repentance, and his prayer for her forgiveness. "Forgive you, my son!" she cried out, "O how easy it is for me to forgive you!" What a moment was that!—what a gush of feeling overcame the good woman when she thought of her dying mother and the twenty pounds! Here was an answer to many prayers— here was a return indeed, more than a hundredfold, poured immediately into her own bosom. It was the Lord's doing, and it was marvellous in her eyes.

But we have not yet done. This good woman had a younger son, who in his early life had been a child of great promise. He

THE TWENTY POUNDS.

seemed likely to be the stay of his father's house, and the prop of his mother's age. His talents were superior; and all who knew him, and witnessed his boyish years, augured well for the future, and blessed the woman that had such a son. But the fairest flowers are often nipped in the bud, or blighted as they begin to open and show their beauty and their fragrance. Henry, for that was his name, fell by that snare which ruins so many promising youths-evil company. He became ensnared, fell into profligate habits, and resolved to go to India.

All this transpired before any information reached the family of the fate of the first son. Of course, the loss of a second, and he the youth of fairest promise and fairest gifts, was enough to break the heart of such a mother. The announcement of his resolution to go to India was like tearing away the tenderest strings that were entwined around her heart. One already lost to her, and a second treading in his steps! O it was almost too much for nature to bear! All that a mother could do, she did. She wept-she prayed-she entreated; but all in vain. The youth was resolved, and it was hopeless to attempt to bring him to a better mind. When things were arrived at this point, she gave him up indeed as lost to herself and his family, but as still in the hands of a merciful and gracious God.

Like a mother, however, whose bowels yearned over the son of her womb, dear, though fallen, she sent him a small sum of money, with as many needful articles as she could procure, to render him comfortable, and he left her to wander far from his native home, and from the peace and simplicity of his native vale. He sailed--he arrived in India, without any knowledge of what had befallen his brother, or even of what part of the country he might be in.

The youth had not been long in India before he too was brought in contact with some of the missionaries. After a short time, the sight and conversation of these good men reminded him of scenes at home. He recollected his father's house-the gospel-the good instruction of his mother-her prayers, and tears, and love. The seeds sprung up, though in a foreign clime, and though a long and threatening winter had passed over them. The result was a decided change of heart and conduct. Soon after this change it became evident that the climate disagreed with his constitution. His health and strength rapidly declined, and it became manifest that he would never return to tell his

THE TWENTY POUNDS.

afflicted mother what the Lord had wrought for bis soul. In this situation he was affectionately attended by the missionaries, who did all in their power to carry forward that work of grace which was so auspiciously begun. They earnestly sought the peace of his mind and the good of his soul; and they had the unspeakable happiness of reaping a rich reward of their labour.

While this younger brother lay ill, the elder, who knew nothing of what had transpired, and who resided several hundred miles in the interior of the country, had occasion to come to the very place where his younger brother was. He did not even know that he was in India, much less that he was ill, and least of all that he had become a converted character. But a mysterious and most gracious Providence directed his steps to the very place where his brother was now dying. Having himself become a missionary, and being, of course, on terms of strictest intimacy with the brethren at this station, it will be easily imagined that he would soon become acquainted with the case of the youth who was the daily object of attention and solicitude, and whose growing piety was to them a source of so much exalted gratification.

I need not detail his surprise at the discovery that this person, to whom their intercourse and instruction had been made so great a blessing, was his own brother.

It will be readily conceived that these two brothers, now united by the strong ties of christian affection, as well as by those of nature, would feel an indescribable satisfaction, the one in administering, and the other in receiving, the attention and services which such circumstances dictated. The eldest continued to the last, administering to his younger brother all the comfort, both for body and soul, which was in his power; and the younger continued to receive, with unutterable delight, the brotherly attentions and the spiritual assistance which had been so mercifully provided for him in a strange and heathen land. At length he died, and the surviving brother who had written some time before to his mother the detailed account formerly mentioned concerning himself, and who had also written during his brother's illness an account of the circumstances in which he had found him-of their meeting, and of his brother's change of heart-now despatched a third letter to announce to the bereaved mother the peaceful end of her son, and to console her for the loss by the description of the happy days they had been permitted so unexpectedly and almost miraculously to spend together.

66

THE TWENTY POUNDS.

This last letter was committed to the care of a person about to sail for England, and who undertook to deliver it himself. The former communication, which the elder son had written some time before, respecting himself, had met with delay on its passage. The last written letter, announcing the death of Henry, arrived the very day after that first mentioned. The person who had undertaken the delivery of the packet took it to the good woman, and said, "I have brought letters from your son in India." She replied with astonishment, "I received one but yesterday." Then," said the stranger, "you have heard of the death of Henry?" She had not even heard of the meeting of the brothers. She had only just heard of the conversion of the son that first went abroad. The sudden announcement, therefore, of the death of Henry, quite overcame her. Though the day before the delightful intelligence had arrived that her eldest son had become a christian, and a christian missionary, yet now this beclouded all. She thought, "My child is dead-dead in sin against God-dead in a foreign land, among strangers, heathens -not one to speak a word of divine truth, to tell him of mercy, of a Saviour's dying love, of hope for the chief of sinners-no kind christian friend to pour out a prayer for his forgiveness, or to direct his departing spirit to that throne of grace where none ever plead in vain.”

A torrent of such thoughts rushed into her mind, and filled her heart with an anguish not to be described. She retired to her room overwhelmed with sorrow, and sat for several hours. Describing her feelings at this juncture, she says, I could not weep-I could not pray-I seemed to be stupified with horror and agony. At last I opened the letters, and when I saw the hand-writing of my eldest son, whose letter the day before had given me so much comfort, I was confounded. As I read on, and found that the brothers had met; that the eldest had witnessed the last moments of the younger; and that this, my second son, had been met with by the missionaries, and by them turned from the error of his ways; that there was no doubt of the safety of his state, and that he had died in his brother's arms -O," said she, "it was indeed a cordial to my soul! How marvellous are the ways of Heaven, that both my sons, after turning aside from the ways of God, and from every means of instruction at home, should be converted to God in a heathen land! O the twenty pounds," she thought, "and the last declaration of my dear