I even dislike it: I endeavour to be happy without it; yet this cannot be even here, and what would it be hereafter? Unless my heart is changed I must perish; and I may never be more willing than I now am: besides, I may not have opportunity in future. What then hinders me, even me, from being a Christian ?-There are difficulties; but how many have overcome them! Why should not I? will not God open if I knock? shall not I also receive if I ask? especially if I ask for what he commands me to pray for, and what he has promised to bestow. I will arise, and go to my Father."

:

But some who have read this question may feel at a loss how to answer it. They know, indeed, that they are not yet what they ought to be; yet they have some desires, and have made some efforts. At least, they are sure that they do not scoff at religion, or at religious people on the contrary, they respect them and wish to be like them; they read: sometimes they pray; and they tremble at the thought of not becoming one day, decidedly religious: but at present, they are continually yielding to temptation, and cannot yet tear themselves from the love of the world. This is the state of many young persons: reader, is it yours? What then can be said to you? So many of those who have, at last, cast off all fear of God, and who are now, it is to be feared, beyond the reach of mercy, have in early life felt just the same, and intended as well as you, that we dare not encourage you with hopes of present safety. But why remain in this uncomfortable and dangerous state? That it is comfortless you feel you know that you are no better prepared to die than your more thoughtless companions. Why then, will you not at once exchange this dreary bondage for happy liberty-these gloomy fears for joyful hopes-this constant uneasiness for perfect peace? Your faint, inconstant prayers are a burden and a task; but pray fervently and regularly, and they will

become a delightful employment.-Delay no longer; you will gain nothing by waiting, but increased difficulty and greater danger. Resolve, then, to be the hopeful one: and to gladden the hearts of your parents and Christian friends by a prompt decision: lest, like so many, you go on hesitating till you become finally hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.

XXX.

THE LITTLE BIOGRAPHERS.

It was the custom at Mrs. L's school, to spend an hour every evening in hearing some interesting book, which was read aloud by the young people alternately, while the hearers were employed at their needles. Mrs. L. herself usually made one of this happy party; and her questions or remarks on what was read rendered it doubly improving and agreeable to them. Having nearly finished a book which had occupied them some time, Mrs. L. announced that the following week they were to begin an interesting volume of Biography; containing, chiefly, the lives of children like themselves: or giving an account of the early life of persons who had afterwards become distinguished. After Mrs. L. had left them, a few of the elder girls assembling round the fire began to talk about it: among other things, one of them said she wondered, if any body were to write her life, what sort of a thing it would make; adding, that she had a great mind to do it herself. Her companions declared it was a good thought; and several of them agreed, that as the next day was a half-holiday, they would devote it to writing their own lives.

This scheme was put in execution accordingly; but, as they most of them found it a more difficult underta

king than they had expected, it would probably never have been heard of afterwards, if Mrs. L. had not happened to enter the school room when they were thus employed; and upon learning what they were about, she requested a sight of the manuscripts. This, with some reluctance, was complied with; when, having glanced at several of them, she desired to keep possession of them for a few days. Nothing more was heard of it, however, until the following Monday evening, when to their great surprise, Mrs. L. produced the promised volume, of Biography, with their own manuscripts inserted here and there among the pages.

"Now," said she, "my intention is, that you shall read through this volume just as you see it; your own lives are to be read in turn with these memoirs: take your places, and we will begin." This arrangement occasioned some embarrassment among our young biographers; but they knew remonstrances would be vain. A few specimens of these manuscripts, just as they were written, will be given for the amusement of the reader, together with some extracts from the volume itself. The first life that was read in this collection was that of Lady Jane Grey, whose virtues and accomplishments are so justly celebrated. Her historian thus speaks of her early acquirements.

"She spoke and wrote her own language with peculiar accuracy; and the French, Italian, Latin, and Greek, were as natural to her as her own. She had also some knowledge of the Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic; and all this, while comparatively but a child. She had a sedateness of temper, a quickness of apprehension, and a solidity of judgment that enabled her not only to become a mistress of languages, but of sciences also; so that she thought, spoke, and reasoned on subjects of the greatest importance, in a manner that excited general surprise. With these extraordinary en

dowments she had so much mildness, humility, and modesty, that she assumed no pride in consequence of her acquisitions.'

When this life was concluded, the children unanimously petitioned Mrs. L. that none of theirs might be read that evening; but she would not yield to their entreaties, and desired the reader to proceed with the subjoined manuscript, which was as follows:

"Miss M. P. was the daughter of respectable parents, and was born at W--, in Middlesex; a very pleasant town, with two churches and a bridge. When she was nine years old, she went to pay a visit to her cousins at Norwich, which she enjoyed very much, and stayed halfa-year she went in the mail coach. At twelve years of age she came to Mrs. L's school; at which time she was four feet nine inches high; a light complexion, eyes and hair the same. At school she had not, perhaps, made quite so much proficiency as could be wished. Her disposition-she was rather- -her natural tem

per as to her disposition"

Here this narrative broke off abruptly; the writer having declared, when she had proceeded thus far, that "she could not write hers at all."

The following evening they read the interesting life of Frances Maria, of Rochebeaucour; "the daughter of a poor tax-gatherer, in Switzerland; who was left an orphan at eleven years old, with a little infant brother to protect and maintain. Having nothing left her by her parents but a little cottage by the side of a wood, and some old furniture, they must have perished for want, but for the industry of Frances Maria. From the age of seven years she had been able to knit a pair of men's stockings in two days. These habits of employment were of great use to her in her poverty; she set herself to spinning, sewing, and knitting alternately; and thus provided for their necessities. A girl, at twelve years

old, living alone in a poor cottage, providing entirely for herself, and taking care of an infant brother as if he had been her child, was an affecting sight. Many mothers in the neighbourhood brought their children to see her, saying, 'Come and see a girl of twelve years old, who conducts herself like a woman, and passes her nights in providing for her little brother.' One day, in the midst of a severe winter, when the ground was covered with snow, a she-wolf, followed by five of her young, suddenly entered poor Maria's cottage, and sprung at her little brother Maria could have saved her own life had she then fled; but, staying to rescue him, the savage animal sprung at her throat, and she was instantly strangled. Thus died Frances Maria, at the age of fifteen.'

The manuscript life which followed this was then read. "In a pleasant village, situated within 30 miles of the metropolis, in the year 1804, Caroline W.-It was in the year 1804, that Caroline W. in a pleasant village within 30 miles of the metropolis.-Caroline W.

was born in the year 1804, in a pleasant village within 30 miles of the metropolis. She was the eldest of five children, whose names were Marianne, Esther, Susan and George being the eldest, though some people thought she was indulged on that account, yet, in her opinion, there were many respects in which she was the worst off. Children are so troublesome; and she was often obliged to take care of the youngest. She has been much happier in this respect since she came to school; though there is a great deal to do here; and we have to rise very early these cold mornings. What will happen to her when she leaves school and is grown up, it is impossible at present to determine."

The next life in the volume was that of Francis De Beauchateau; a youth of learning and genius; of whom it is recorded, for the encouragement of others, "that he was very slow in learning: but that what he wanted