rending of her heart in her giving up the earthly idol of her affections, because he despised the New Testament Test of a Gospel obedience:-We have opened up the tender and trying scenes through which she passed with her venerated mother :-We shall now just furnish one other slight view of her movements-it is her going forth-forsaking all; and forsaking every one; and cleaving close unto Jesus-to the Truth-to His Obedient Church-and honestly and really "denying herself," taking up the Cross; and venturing only upon HIM who is the Lamb of God: and of whose disciples John spake, when he said-" These are they which follow the Lamb WHITHERSOEVER HE GOETH!"

Now, then, let us say three things; and then we pause to observe the patient endurance of Theodosia :

First-we know some will throw contempt upon this narrative -as Mr. Percy (Theodosia's espoused one) did upon the ordinance of Baptism. We pity them.

Secondly this narrative is a sterling and genuine record of FACTS; and is one of a most sacred and sublime character: we certainly, altogether, never read one more pure or more precious.

Thirdly-in bringing this thrilling narrative across the Atlantic, and from a high-priced American work, (the price of the two volumes being twelve shillings,) down into the half-penny numbers of CHEERING WORDS, we are certainly rendering service to those dear saints of our God that never could otherwise see it. We ask our friends, therefore, to aid our circulation, Take a packet of these CHEERING WORDS when you travel or walk, and give them away: good will be done.

Turn now, to the 28th page of last number; and then read as follows:

"It was strange how the news had got abroad, yet it had spread like wild-fire through the town, that Miss Theodosia Ernest would that morning apply for baptism. At an early hour the school-house was crowded to its utmost capacity and before the services commenced, even the windows and the doors, and every place was occupied from which one could hope to catch a glimpse at what was going on within, or hear a word of what was said.

The church bells began to ring. Mrs. Earnest had all the morning been distracted between affection for her lovely child which

prompted her to go the school house, and pride which urged her to go and sit in her own pew as though nothing had happened. Curiosity to see and hear what Theodosia would do and say, and what sort of people these Baptists were, joined with affection in pleading for the school-house- and a sort of definite dread of what Mr. Johnson might say came to the help of pride. And, it may be, there was something like a mistaken sense of religious duty which spake on that side also. However this may be, the first few strokes of the costly and solemn-sounding bell which had been accustomed to call her to church seemed suddenly to decide her.

I want you to understand, Theodosia,' said she, that though I do not forbid, yet I do not altogether approve of what you are about to do, and I cannot sanction any such proceedings by my presence. I don't know what Mr. Johnson would think of me, if I should forsake our dear church to wander about after these new comers." This was a new disappointment to the sensitive child. She greatly relied on her mother's presence to sustain her in the untried scenes through which she was about to pass. She had also hoped that uncle Jones would call and go with her, but he had not come, and she was alone. Yet she was not alone, for she looked up as her mother was speaking, and in her heart said again, 'Not my will, but thine be done!'-And the Spirit replied, Fear not, for I am with thee; and be not dismayed, for I am thy God?" 'When my father and my mother forsake me the Lord will take me up. I do not say that she felt no natural misgivings, no modest shrinking from going alone into a house filled with strangers, with the consciousness that every eye was on her, and every heart full of curiosity to see how she would look, what she would do, and what she would say; but she thought much less of this than my reader would naturally suppose. The peace of God was in her heart, and it gave to her mind and her manner a quiet yet determined calmness, and a collectedness of thought and perfect self-possession which was surprising even to herself.

She set out therefore, alone; for Edwin had not returned from Sabbath-School. Two or three times the mother turned and looked after her as she went, and wished she could consistently, and without displeasing Mr. Johnson, have gone with the dear child.

(To be continued.)

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE CARPENTER'S SON:

LETTER XIII.

"Beset with snares on every hand,
In life's uncertain path I stand,
Saviour divine, diffuse thy light

To guide my doubtful footsteps right."

MY DEAR SIR-Now I shall feel more at liberty in continuing these letters. The dark mountains are past, and a fairer field opens before me as I retrace the steps of my youth.

What a glorious thing is youth! with all its buoyancy and aspirations, with all its energy and determination, with all its pros pects of usefulness and happiness. It is like a giant running his race, waxing stronger and stronger, as the course still onward and upward brightens, as the steeper heights are gained. But how different, when you feel youth forsaking you, and the race not begun! To see time leaving you, and leaving you in a wilderness ; and not only leaving you there, but leaving you pierced through with many sorrows, and constrained to justify his severest deed. "Oh, Time, Time! 'tis fit that thou shouldst strike thy murderer to the heart!" I saw all this, and I trembled, but I could not despair. I tried to bring all my trouble over me again, but it was not to be found; rather my spirit would leap up to God in the words of a hymn, which we used to sing in our prayer meetings at King Street Chapel, in earlier days,

"From Thee, the overflowing spring,

My soul shall drink a fresh supply,
While such as trust their native strength

Shall melt away, and droop and die."

For years, I did feel the influence of my folly in consorting with a spirit that was not according to God's spirit, but seldom could I feel otherwise than that God was a rock and his work was perfect; (Deut. xxxii. 4.) and that, what God had done for me, was done for ever. (Eccles. iii. 14.) For generally, if I tried to despond, the vision and the mercy of Kennington fields, would present

themselves radiant, and blissful, so that though "remembering mine affliction, and my misery, the wormwood and the gall; my soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled within me. THIS I re-call to my mind, therefore have I hope." Lam. iii. 18, 21. I say the transactions of that memorable morning were ever present when trouble was near, and therefore I had hope.

"How high a privilege 'tis to know,

Our sins are all forgiven,

To bear about this pledge below,

This special grant of heaven."

It would be lying against my right, if I told you anything less than this supported me; and it would be keeping back the truth, if I did not declare that the gifts of that morning, were the jewels which Little-faith had and which even bold thieves could not rob him of.

But, now you wish to know how I got on in things pertaining to this life. Well, you shall know this also. I took lodgings at No. 8, St. George's Road, near the Elephant and Castle, and there, I remained fourteen months. I look at that house as I pass it, always with grateful emotions. How low I sunk there, and how graciously I was raised up, are themes which still demand and afford songs in the house of my pilgrimage. I had come to London this time to find a settlement for life; and I had determined to take the first thing, and anything I could obtain, and work at it for that purpose.

It was the hop season, and my friend in the Borough was busy, and I was appointed by him, an under-warehouse clerk. My business was to receive orders at the counting house, and at the warehouses, to get hops sampled, pressed, and weighed out or in, and render an account of these matters to the chiefs.

It was a new and pleasant thing to me, and I should have enjoyed a permanency in the trade well enough; but as spring came on, business fell off, and my supernumeracy services were not required.

I was then unemployed for some time. I answered advertisements, and sometimes had my expectations raised; but otherwise, the result was nothing.

I was just now speaking in admiration of youth. Were I to attempt to descant on friendship, I should exceed myself.

'Friendship, I owe thee much!"

There never was a day that I had not a friend! In all my mutations, and wanderings, some friendly spirit has ever been springing up, in places the most unlikely, yet welcome, and as pleasant as the gourd to Jonah. I have often wondered at the goodness of God, in this particular; for I have observed it constantly, and found it uniformly in action; so that I acknowledge no other power than his, in bringing it to pass.

"Friendship is the sweetner of life,
And solder of society."

And God, who welds hearts together, dissolves the union, that man may not trust in man; but he causes the hearts of others to flow together; that man may trust in him at all times, and ever find him a refuge near; and man a ministering spirit, with a message of mercy.

Well then, though I have often been destitute, in this particular, I never was desolate. About this time, my friend Nathan Jones, whom I mentioned in Letter viii.; proposed that I should enter the Borough Road Normal School, to graduate for a schoolmaster.

I cannot forget passing by, and gazing upon the building of that institution, the first summer I spent in London, in 1828. I wondered what kind of Students were nurtured there, and for what parts of the world; and my ideas were winged more by the word 'Foreign' than that of 'British," as I read in the wire window-blind its designation,

'BRITISH AND FOREIGN SCHOOL SOCIETY.'

So that when it was suggested that I should become a student there, my thoughts ran upon languages which I did not even know the names of; and in my ignorance and sloth, I clung to my country and my tongue, and as if there had been a lion in the way, respectfully declined the honor.

It was all well. Adversity is a hard school, but fools can learn in no other. Another friend procured me work at my trade in