people hang things up to tempt us ?-if only I had never seen it! Many a one has asked this question before George. But we must be tried; how else shall we know what we are? If this boy had remembered God's holy commandment, and prayed to him for help to keep it, the desire of having the knife would have gone out of his mind. "My son, you have stayed long," said his mother; "why, what is the matter?" for George was pale, and trembled. “O, mamma, you know the old shed at the corner of the fence as I was going past, a drunken man came out, and ran after me, and made me fall down, and the money dropped in the sand, so I lost it." "Oh!" said the servant-girl, little thinking that she was helping George out with his lie, "that must be the same man that I saw asleep under the fence this morning." George felt relieved; but so far was he from enjoying his dear-bought knife, that he put it away in the bottom of his box, whence he might not see it. He could not help thinking of it, however. The Bible says, "A lying lip is but for a moment;" and again, "Be sure your sin will find you out." So it fared with our cunning boy. To make his story more sure, he had said to his father that Mr. Benton, a neighbour, had seen the drunken man, and made him go away. One lie, you know, makes twenty. Mr. Benton was not in the habit of coming to the house of George's parents, but it happened that his cart broke down near their gate, and he stepped in for assistance. George's father said to Mr. Benton, "I thank you, neighbour, for helping my little boy the other day." As you may suppose, the good man knew nothing about the affair, and thus George's sinful conduct was all exposed. Was he punished? Yes, severely; but who can tell how grieved his parents were! They shed bitter tears over his sin. Do you ask if he repented? In one sense he did; he sincerely regretted that he had behaved wrong, and made himself liable to punishment, but whether that was the right sort of repentance, I leave you to determine. Soon after this, George lost his father. What a loss is a pious father, especially to a boy who needed so much guidance and control as did this one! As you sail up one of our southen rivers, away off to the right, rises a gloomy building; it is the State Penitentiary. Among its miserable inmates is a youth of respectable appearance, sad, pale, and degraded; it is poor George.-New York Observer. JUVENILE MISSIONARY MEETING, HOLLINGWORTH. To the EDITOR,-Sir, THINKING that the following account may be interesting to the Readers of the "Juvenile Companion," I shall be obliged if you can give it a place in that really valuable and increasingly interesting publication. The letter addressed to the scholars of our Connexion, by Mr. Rinder of Leeds, inserted in the number for December last, was read in our school at Hollingworth. It made a deep impression, and several of the Teachers resolved to engage the scholars in the Missionary work. In pursuance of this resolution, cards were issued, and such other means adopted as were calculated to promote the object sought; with what result the sequel will show. Whit-Sunday, June 8th, 1851, was the day appointed for holding the Juvenile Missionary Meeting. It was held in the Chapel,' in the afternoon; there was a good attendance; Mr. John Petre, Jun., of Rochdale, presided, and in an excellent opening address showed the importance of engaging the young in every good work, and encouraged the scholars to persevere in the work in which they had so nobly begun. Mr. Edwards then gave an account of the proceedings of last year, he referred to the amount of money raised, by Christmas offerings, in the Wesleyan-schools, and also of the efforts made, by the children of the Independents, for the London Missionary Society-the ship "John Williams," having been purchased thereby. It was asked, If such influential bodies felt the need of Sunday-school efforts, was it not proper in us to enlist the young in the cause of Missions? Mr. Charles Renshaw, of Rochdale, ably addressed the meeting, and preached a good sermon in the evening. The meeting was also addressed by Mr. R. Walker, who gave it as his opinion, that one reason, perhaps the principal one, why our schools were not a greater blessing, arose from the neglect of the Teachers and Superintendents in not finding the children something to do; he considered they had been treated unwisely, as though the chief, if not only, object of bringing them together was to impart good to them, instead of calling into benevolent exercise their activities, and directing them into a Christian channel. Mr. Heywood, of Sheffield, Mr. Thomas Marles, of Newton, and Mr. Thomas Walker, of Hollingworth, also addressed the meeting. Altogether we had a highly interesting meeting; and the proceeds from cards, and collections at the meetings amounted to upwards of 51. In this school we have 180 scholars. Perhaps some of our young arithmeticians will calculate what sum would be raised, if a similar effort were made by the 44,553 scholars in our Connexion? As an evidence of the interest taken in the cause of Missions, I may inform you that one of our Juveniles composed the following lines; you will please large numbers of our friends here, by inserting them after the above account. C. E. LINES ADDRESSED TO THE REV. JOSEPH TOWNSEND. Wesleyan Association Missionary to Australia. HASTE! to yonder distant clime, Like a valiant soldier go, Not to gather earthly gains; To release from Satan's chains. Take thy Sword-God's Holy Word, Sixteen thousand miles away; may we meet in Heaven. Hollingworth, July 14, 1851. ROBERT WALKER. THE GOLD COIN; OR, THE LITTLE (By George Canning Hill.) Ir was the morning of a new year that had just set in; bright, golden, and beautiful. The snow glittered like a bejewelled garment in the cloudless sun. The chiming of the silvery sounds of bells struck joyfully upon the listener in every street. The air was cold, though not piercing; bracing, though not biting; just cold enough, in truth, to infuse life and elasticity into every one that moved. There was a little girl, a child of poverty, on that beautiful new year's morning, walking the streets with the gay crowds that swept past her. Her little feet had grown so numb, encased only in thin shoes, and those badly worn, that she could but with difficulty move one before the other. Her cheeks shook at every step she took, and her lips looked truly purple. Alas! poor Elsie Gray! She was a little beggar! Just like the old year was the new year to her-just like the last year's wants, and last year's sufferings, were the wants and sufferings of this! The change of the year brought no change in her unhappy condition. She was poor; her mother was a widow and an invalid; and the child was a beggar ! In the old and cheerless room gleamed no bright fires of a happy anniversary. No evergreens, no wreaths, no flowers, save a few old withered ones, decked the time-stained walls. There was no sound of merry voices in at the door to say to the widow Gray, "A happy new year to you, Mrs. Gray!" Heaven seemed to have walled her and her abode out from the happiness that was all the world's on that festive day of the year. It had provided, to all appearances, no joys, no congratulations, no laughter, no gifts, no flowers for them! Why were they outcasts? Had they voluntarily shut themselves out from the sunlight of the living creatures around them? No! shame take the world, that it must be so answered for them. Mrs. Gray was POOR! Little Elsie stopped at times, and breathed her hot breath upon her blue and benumbed fingers; and stamped her tiny feet in their thin casements, with all the force left in them; and then big tears stood trembling in her large blue eyes for a moment, and rolled slowly down her purple cheeks, as if they would freeze to them. She had left her mother in bed, sick, exhausted, famishing! What wonder that she cried, even though those hot tears only dropped on the icy pavement! They might as well fall there as elsewhere; the many human hearts that passed her were full as icy and hardened. She would have turned back to go home; but she thought again of her poor mother, and went on; though where to go she knew not. She had become a street-beggar! Where should street-beggars go? What streets are laid out, and named, and numbered for them? She was greatly distressed, and knew not where she should go? This brought those crystal tears, and started those deep and irrepressible sobs that choked her infant utterance. A young boy,-a bright-looking little fellow, chanced to pass her, as she walked and wept, and stopped. He caught the glitter of those tears in the sunshine, and the sight smote his heart. He did not know what want and sufferings were. He had never known them himself; never once |