bed, and he again breathed his strong desires, that they would all meet him in heaven. About half-past ten o'clock, he wanted to be moved, and whilst his mother was attempting to move him, he gently laid his head on her bosom. For a few moments a death-like silence ensued; not a sound was heard excepting only the suppressed and indistinct sobs of his friends. The heaving of his chest was observed gradually to die away; and in a moment his spirit had passed the boundary line-gone to be an inhabitant of the skies-to gaze upon the beatific vision, and to be for ever with Jesus. Thus died Joseph Ashton, on the 23rd of March, 1849; resting his head on the bosom of her who bare him, and committing his soul to the arms of Him who redeemed and saved him.

THE LITTLE FACTORY BOY.

In the town of M- there are many large cottonfactories; and not only are thousands of men and women employed in them, but a great number of children, who work so many hours in the day that they feel but little inclined for learning to read in the evening. What a blessing for them is a Sunday-school, and how grateful should they be to the kind people who teach them!

A little boy, whom I will call James, worked in a factory, and on the Sabbath went to a Wesleyan Sundayschool. He was so attentive and so diligent, that he rose to what was called the Testament class, the teacher of which was a pious man. Now, there was a rule in that school, that the teachers should, at least once a month, speak to the scholars separately; and by this means the teacher became better acquainted with the thoughts and feelings of every one in his class, and knew how to give suitable advice, encouragement, or reproof. Many children have had cause to thank God for this rule; and among them, James.

One Sunday, when about eleven years of age, he was called up as usual to his teacher, who, observing that the

poor little fellow looked very sad, kindly said, "Well, James, how have you been getting on?"

He hung down his head, and made no answer.

"Have you prayed during the week?" inquired the teacher. "You know, James, that I told you what to do. Did you pray the last week in the factory as I advised you?"

"Yes, sir," said James.

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Well, how is it, James, that you are so cast down to-day? Did you pray at home?"

"Yes, sir; I went up stairs one day at noon, as you told me to do, and prayed to God. And while I was praying, my father came up stairs, and heard me praying, and he came into the room and beat me very hard, and dragged me down stairs by the hair of my head, and threw me into the street, and cursed and swore very much, and said that he would have no praying there."

Perhaps, my dear readers, I ought to have told you before, that James' father was one of those fools who say there is no God. "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." Psa. xiv. 1. He was a drunkard; and he wished exceedingly that there was no God to punish him for his wickedness.

In reply to the little boy's sad account, the teacher said, "Well, James, I am very sorry for you. I suppose you have not prayed any more since ?"

"Only once since, at the factory," answered James.

"You must continue to pray to God," said the teacher, "and ask him to give you a new heart, and implant a right spirit within you; and God will hear your prayer, and bless you; for he has said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not.' Now, James, as your father will not serve God, nor let you serve Him, I will tell you what to do. You must take every opportunity, when your father is out, to pray; but when you do so, always pray that God would bless your father, and change his heart. And pray to God to forgive your father, as you have forgiven him. I hope you have forgiven him?" "Yes, sir," answered James.

"That's a good boy," said the teacher, "for, except we forgive, we cannot expect God to forgive our sins."

Of course, the young scholar well understood that all prayer must be offered up in the name of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ; it is for his sake that prayer is answered. To poor James the wicked conduct of his father was a sad trial; but in his absence, he used to follow the good teacher's advice, and to go up stairs to pour out his soul in prayer to God.

Some time after the severe beating, I don't know how long, the little boy came home from the factory, as usual at the dinner hour; and not finding his father there, retired immediately to the room in which he slept, and kneeling down, began to pray aloud. The man returned unexpectedly, and going up stairs for something he wanted, thought he heard talking; and so he listened. It was his son at prayer. He stood awhile listening, and heard James earnestly imploring God to have mercy upon his father. "O Lord!" said the child, with fervour, "forgive my wicked father, as I have forgiven him!" This was too much for the father. His heart was touched-God had touched it. He rushed into the room-not as before to beat poor James, nor to drag him dowu stairs by the hair; O, no! he took the astonished boy in his arms, carried him down, and, placing him in the middle of the room, desired his wife and all his children to kneel down, and then requested the boy to pray for them.

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From this happy day James always prayed in the family. His father not only believed in God, and regularly attended public worship, but deeply repented of his sins. God forgave him for Christ's sake, and changed his heart, filling it with love for his Saviour. I wish I could tell you more about this family; but I only know that the father felt it was his duty to go to the Sunday-school, and return thanks for the great benefits he owed to the instruction which had been given to his son. No doubt James' prayers and good example had been a blessing to his brothers and sisters, and perhaps to their mother; for, when speaking to the superintendent, the father said, "I

am come to thank you for the benefit I and my family have received through my son's coming to this school."

How grateful and happy must James' teacher have been! I highly respect Sunday-school teachers. O may this article encourage them to speak faithfully to the dear children God has committed to their care!

Early Days.

FOLLY AND WICKEDNESS OF QUARRELLING.

THERE was a cottage not a great way from Mary and Alfred's home, and in that cottage lived two boys and two girls, with their father and mother.

It was not a happy family, for the chidren often quarrelled, and called each other very bad names; and too often they also fought with one another.

Sometimes, when Mary and Alfred were at play in the garden, they could hear the loud cries of these children, and they, more than once, had seen them in the road, beating and throwing each other in the dirt. It made them sad to hear and see these things. They thought, and indeed they said to their father one day, If our little dear brother John had lived, we would not have hurt him, and been cross to him."

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Once these quarrelsome children were at play, and one of the girls struck her elder brother with her hand, and then ran away. The boy then picked up a stone which was in the road, and ran after his sister. He was in a great passion; and as he ran he cried out that he would kill her. This frightened the little girl very much; for she knew that her brother was stronger than she, and she knew that he would not care what harm he did, while his passion lasted. So she ran away from him as fast as she could. But her brother ran still faster; and he would have caught her, too, if she had not run into the garden where Mary was with her father. She ran to them, and said, "O, do not let my wicked brother come near me; he will kill me."

The boy had run after his sister, quite to the garden, before he saw Mary's father; and then he stopped, and would have gone back, if Mary's father had not said, “Put down the stone, Henry, and come here."

Henry did as he was bid; he was afraid to run away; but he walked very slowly. At length he reached the place; and Mary's father took him by one hand, and his little sister by the other, and went with them into a garden arbour, and there he talked with them. Mary and Alfred went too, and heard what their father said.

Mary and Alfred's father had always been very kind to the children in the cottage. He had often given them little books to read; sometimes he gave them money for going on errands, or for weeding his garden, and when he met them he used to speak pleasantly to them. This is why they were willing to go with him now.

He sat down in the arbour, and placed the little girl beside him, while her brother stood on the other side of his knee.

"What were you going to do with that large stone you had in your hand, Henry?" he said to the boy.

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Lucy hit me," he said; "she is always hitting me." "Yes, but what were you going to do with the stone?" "He said he would kill me," said Lucy.

"I see how it is; you have been quarrelling again.” Then Henry and Lucy both of them began to lay the blame upon each other. Mary's father heard what they had to say, and then he talked to them.

He told them what a sad thing it is for brothers and sisters to disagree and fight each other. He put them in mind of Cain, who was so wicked as to kill his brother Abel. And he also told them of a little boy, whom he once knew, who struck his younger brother in anger, and killed him.

Then he said this to Henry: "Now, suppose you had caught your sister while you were so angry with her, do you think you would really have struck her with that stone ?"

Henry did not answer.