When learning much of Christ,
And more and more of truth,
They seek, as David did of old,
To serve Him in their youth.

Clifton Hymnal.

A WICKED FAMILY.

A WARNING TO YOUTH.

THERE was once a family with very wicked parents, consequently there was no proper instruction provided for the children. The father (who was a great man in the world) used his exalted station in life for the purpose of carrying out to the full all the evil passions and principles of his base and degenerate heart. His was a wicked life, and consequently he met with an awful and untimely end. God smote him with a painful and loathsome disease, of which he died.

His only surviving son (who inherited the family estate) was, at his father's death, raised to his position of distinction in the world; and his irreligious mother instructed her youthful child to employ all his time and talents in the practice of his father's vices and sins. This again so displeased God that He sent messengers who slew him also; and since it was his mother who, instead of teaching her son to love and fear God, had tutored him to indulge and perpetuate his father's wickedness, God stirred up certain persons to seize and kill her: and thus she was ever after called "that wicked woman."

And now, my dear reader, perhaps you may be anxious to know whether what I have written is true, and who this unholy family were! Well, the wicked father was JEHORAM, king of Judah; the wicked mother was his queen, ATHALIAH; the

wicked son was AHAZIAH: and the full account of them may be seen in 2 Chron. xxi., xxii. and xxivth chapters.

Do you further inquire whether there were any SUNDAY SCHOOLS in those days? Well, they were not exactly as we have them now; but there were schools, and children were taught the law of God, which not only included instruction in the statutes, judgments, and ordinances of God, but a learning to fear and serve and worship the Lord their God as long as they lived (Deut. xxxi. 13): and the seventh day of the week, called the "SABBATH OF THE LORD," no doubt furnished special means for particular scriptural instruction.

But the family of whom we have been speaking— and there were many children, but they were all killed with the sword (2 Chron. xxii. 1)—had no kind parents to lead them aright. You, dear children, in our privileged land of Bibles, may have a praying father or a praying mother (perhaps both), and they are so anxious for your welfare that they send you to be taught what is right and good for both time and eternity; so that it may be said of you, "From a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation."

May you, then, dear children, learn to highly prize your Christian instruction, and seek to derive all the profit you can from your religious tuition; and as the blessing of God is promised to those who seek Him early, may you be led to "remember your Creator in the days of your youth." "Better is a poor and a wise child than an old and foolish king."

Chelmsford, March 3, 1871.

JOSIAH.

AUNT JUNE'S STORY.

BY MRS. H. C. GARDNER.

SHE was over ninety years old when I knew her first, and that was twenty-three years ago. She was then living in a little old hut which would not have been thought good enough for a stable by most people. I think there are very few domestic animals that are so poorly housed in winter as this old woman was. She was too feeble in body to wait on herself, but her mind was as active as ever; and, in spite of her infirmities and poverty, and unpleasant surroundings, she was the happiest person I ever saw. She was so thoroughly contented with her lot, so perfectly resigned to the will of her heavenly Father.

She told me her story one cold winter evening when I accompanied my husband on one of the calls which he delighted to make at her lowly abode.

She was born a slave, and had endured most of the sorrowful changes which pertained to slave-life in the South before the Rebellion. She had never known a mother's tenderness, for her mother was sold off the plantation when she was a baby. "But your father, Aunt June?" I said. not he left to you?"

"Was

"Never knew nothin' 'bout him. 'Spect he lived and died somewhere. Never heard him mentioned. First I remember, I was running round with a heap of other young ones, and everybody called me June."

"Tell us all about it, please, aunty."

"Bless yer heart! There ain't no drefful sight to tell. I growed up as spry as a cat, and as smart to work as any girl about. Massa said I was worth a heap of money. You see I was the same as any

other property to him, nothing more. He praised me just as he did his horse. Laws! How grand I used to feel to hear him. He told the truth. I was smart. I was a house-servant, and I had all the rooms in my care. Missus said she could trust me just as well as herself. Think of that, ma'am. And I was only twenty years old."

Aunt June's poor withered face put on an expression of weak pleasure as she recalled her youthful achievements. It was a smile of triumph.

a pleased consciousness of ability.

"Were you happy?"

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It told

My question changed her look in a moment. Happy!" she repeated. And I a slave !" It is impossible to render the emphasis that gave such a depth of meaning to her simple words.

"At least you were well cared for, you were not abused?" I persisted.

"I was never whipped, if that is what you mean. There was no whipping done on our place.

wouldn't 'low it."

Massa

"And you were well fed and clothed, were you not ?"

"Yes. So was the horses well fed. I was only a slave, a nigger, after all. You can't be 'spected to understand it. You never heard the folks about you readin' their books and papers and talking about them, while you were willing to die almost if you might only learn to read the Bible. We knew it was God's Word to us, just the same as to them. And we needed it so much."

"Poor aunty!" I began to see where the dark shadows came in. "You could not be happy."

66

No, ma'am. Because we had souls. We were never contented, not one of us."

"And yet your lot was enviable, compared with many others."

"Yes, while I was so young. But, by and by, I was married, and then came the dear little children, one after another, and I knew they was all slaves. They were bright and cunning, and I loved them just as white mothers love their little ones; but there was never an hour when I was awake that I forgot they might be sold. I dreaded it always. My husband was a blacksmith, and a first-rate workman. Massa was as proud of him as he was of his horse. I often heard visitors telling him he had better sell him while he was in his prime. O, how I used to listen and tremble! Massa promised me never to sell us, but it was terrible to know that he could. I never laid down at night without a sick dread of what might come. I never saw my husband go to his work without fearing that I might never see him again. I was never easy; never. How could I be? Put yourself in my place just one moment if you can, ma'am."

A quick shudder ran over me. I glanced up into my husband's face, who was listening intently, and involuntarily clasped his hand. I could not bear even to fancy myself in her place.

"It's a long time ago," said the old woman, "but I feels it now, I feels it now."

We were silent a few moments, and then my husband asked, in a low tone,

"What became of your husband and children, aunty?"

:

'They was all sold away from me," she answered drearily, "every one of them. little girls. All but the baby. place was sold at auction, and

Five boys and three Massa died, and the the slaves were sold

too. Missus cried over us and pitied us, but she could not help us.

place had to go."

Massa was in debt, and the

"O dear !" I exclaimed, "how could you bear it?"