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THE FIRESIDE.—THE PENNY POST.

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The Fireside. On A Man Taxing Himself.— The English people are said to be always grumbling about the taxes, and well they may, for they are very heavy, and what aggravates the weight of them is, that they are laid on the people to pay the expenses of war and bloodshed that is the worst of it. We might have borne them with more patience if the money had been spent in doing good in the world instead of mischief. We should all learn to let other people alone and mind our own business, and we should find this both easy and cheap, far more easy and cheap than going to war, and then having to pay the price of it. Another cause of complaint is that the rich do not pay so much in proportion as the poor. And this we fear is true, and ought not to be." But there are some people—poor people who tax themselves far more than the government taxes them. The government tax may be one shilling out of ten for a poor man, and that is heavy enough, but there are some working men who will tax themselves far more than that. There are, we fear, many who out of their week's wages will spend in drink more than one shilling in ten, and some more than two shillings in ten. “Well," they will say, "cannot we do as we like? we worked for it, and cannot we spend it as we like ?" No: you have not a right to spend it in that way if you have a wife and a family dependent upon you

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sup: port. Little enough it is a man can earn now-a-days anyhow, and he ought not to swallow down one shilling in ten of what he earns when his wife and children are looking to him for food and clothing. The man who will do so is not fit to be called a man.

It is a pity he ever had a wife, and alas for his children, for they must hare a poor time of it now, and a sorry prospect as to what is to become of them when they grow up. If any working man reads this who bas been in the habit of so wasting his money, I do hope he will think of it, and not tax himself in this way for the sake of the drink. Should you not, my friend, be a happier man if you could feel conscious that the little money you earned was well laid out by your wife for the benefit of all the family ? Would you not feel pleasure in saying, “Well: no one can accuse me of being such a selfish, un!eeling, and unprincipled wretch as to leave my wife and children crying for bread, whilst I was guzzling beer at the fireside of a public-house."

The Penny Post. THE UNSPRINKLED CHILD'S FUNERAL. On Saturday, Sep. 9, 1848, a child, son of T. M-, of H-, near B-, aged four years, died, and as the deceased part of the family were buried in the parish church-yard, it was the wish of the relatives that this should be interred there too; and arrange

THE PENNY POST.

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ments were made accordingly for the burial to take place on Thursday, the 14tli, but the clerk hearing that the child had not been baptized, called on the parents to know the truth, and found that it was too true. He then observed that it could not be buried

our dearly beloved brother," but only as a still-born babe. The father then went to the vicar, when the following conversation ensued :“I am sorry to hear that you have neglected to have your

child baptized : why did you neglect it?"

“ Because I nowhere find in the word of God that I should do so."

“I perceive you are a dissenter: are you? or are you a churchman."

“A dissenter, sir."

“Then you mean to say by being a dissenter that I am a preacher of lies ! However, I shall not discuss the rite of baptism now; but you, by refusing baptism to the child, deny the ordinance of our blessed Saviour. I am sorry for the child, and I aın sorry for you. Ours is the true church, from the crucifixion of our Saviour up to this moment. Ours is the Holy Catholic Church, not the Roman Catholic; they brought many errors into the church, but at the Reformation the church was cleansed. Ours is the same church as in apostolic days, and always was, till that sect called baptists arose and tried to overthrow the church. If you had sent for me at the latest moment, I would have come. Or even if you could not have got a clergyman, you might have done it yourself; not that I say you ought to do such a thing. But if an heretic, that is, what is called a Wesleyan preacher, had done so, I would have buried it; but now I cannot."

“Will you allow any one else ?”
“No, I cannot. But you may bury it as a still-born child."

The offer was declined, and the child was conveyed four miles to the general cemetery at B

I received the above facts from the father of the child.
B-

H. P. [Our correspondent furnishes his own address as well as that of each of

the parties. What a miscbievous thing is a state church, to support whose unscriptural dogmas gentlemen of education will act such a cruel part towards parents bereaved of their children! Yes: to bereaved parents they act in this unmannerly and unfeeling manner; and just when their minds are most veeding comfort they torture them with doubts of their child's salvation, and refuse its body interment in the national burial places. “Sorry for the child" indeed ! Get eye-salve man, lest blind to the way of salvation for thyself and others, thou shouldst miss thy way to “yon bright world," where, doubtless, now, the saved spirit of that child beholds the face of its Father in heaven; though thou, puffed up with a "little brief authority," refused its mortal remains a resting place in God's earth ]

THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.

The Children's Corner.

BY MARY HOWITT.

LOVE YOUR PARENTS.— Yes, love, as he hath promised, “Honour thy tbem-your father and mother. And father and thy mother: that thy days indeed you ought to love them if it may be long upon the land which the were only for their love and care of LORD thy God giveth thee.” you. When you were a little baby and could neither walk nor talk, and FATHER IS COMING. knew nothing at all, who took care of you then?— your father and The clock is on the stroke of six, mother. Your father worked six

The father's work is done; days every week that he might have sweep up the hearth and mend tbe money to buy you food and clothing,

fire, and your mother did little else than take care of you. She carried you | 'The night wind it is blowing cold,

And put the kettle on; about in her arms all day when you 'Tis dreary crossing o'er the wold. were awake, and when you fell asleep she laid you down in your snug warm He's crossing o'er the wold apace, cradle bed, and directly she heard

He's stronger than the storm ; you cry she hastened to come and He does not feel the cold, not he,

His heart it is so warm. take you up and give you her own good milk, and felt so happy as you For father's heart is stout and true Tay in her arms enjoying that warm,

As ever human bosom knew. and sweet, and nourishing food, just Hemakes alltoil, all hardship lightsuited for you, and always ready and Would all men were the same! always good. And therė she would so ready to be pleased, so kind, sit and sing to you that sweet lullaby, So very slow to blame ! “Mayst thou live to know and fear Him, Folks need not be unkind, austere, Trust and love Him all thy daye,

For love hath readier will than fear! Then go dwell for ever near Him, See His face and sing His praise.

And we'll do all that father likes, I could give thee thousand kisses,

His wishes are so few; Hoping wbat I most desire;

Would they were more! that every Not a Mother's fondest wishes,

hour Could to greater joys aspire.”

Some wish of his I knew! And then as you grew up how did I'm sure it makes a happy day, your father and mother try to teach When I can please bim any way! you and help you how to walk and talk, and oh how pleased they were

I know he's coming by this sign, when you could begin to do both.

That baby's almost wild; Many other kind things they did for See how he laughs, and crows, and you of which you know nothing at

stares, all, and you never will know all they

Heaven bless the merry child ! did for you. Oh then you ought to His father's self in face and limb, love your parents always, as long Aud father's heart is strong in him. as you live you ought to love them, Hark! hark! I hear his footsteps and always take notice of what they say, for they love you get more than He's through the garden gate ; anybody else, and will always advise Run, little Bess, and ope the door, you for your good. Happy those And do not let him wait! children who honour and love their Shout, baby, shout, and clap thy father and mother; God will bless bands, them with long life and happiness, For father on the threshold stands !

now

JOHN DAWSON.
Happy the man, however poor,
Who trusts in God for ample store;
Nor envious looks on rich or great,
Nor murmurs at his low estate;
Content his wants to satisfy;
Prepar'd to live, prepar'd to die.

John Dawson was a farmer's man,
And with his life his cares began;
For who's from pain and sorrow free,
Whate'er his age or state may be ?

We rise in life, we know not how,
And oft unthinking through it go;
Nor ask why into being brought,
Or if we must return to nought;
Why born to sickeu, pine, and die,
Or sink to woe or rise on high ?

Thus poor John Dawson spent his days,
Thus walk'd in sin's delusive ways;
And fell in midst of health and prime
The victim of his fav'rite crime.

If thus we sin, we thus may fall,
And lose pur life, our soul, our all!
For who can tell, when they begin,
What end will be unto their sin ?

How Dawson lost his soul, O hear,
And shun his fate with jealous fear,
Shun sin of every shape and kind,
And seek from God a holy mind;
He can preserve our giddy youth;
Our age adorn with grace and truth:
So shall our lives his goodness show,
And glory end our days below;
Mercies in sweet succession rise,
And grace prepare us for the skies.

This said-John Dawson married young,
Was hearty, merry, handsome, strong;
His wife was also blithe and fair,
For villagers--a comely pair :
The husband kind, and fond the wife;
Thus past a year or two of life;
They chimed in thought, together strove,
And dwelt in mutual peace and love.'

Whence did their troubles then begin? The husband was drawn into sin.

JOHN DAWSON.

By a vile neighbour led astray,
He left his work from day to day;
Soon learnt to drink, and swear, and roam,
A wanderer from his happy home.
At last, at an ungodly feast,
Where drunkards meet to act the beast,
He in his liquor found his death,
At once of sense and life bereft ;
And on the Sabbath (sad tell)
Unpardon'd, in perdition fell!

How different was Dawson's spouse,
God taught her wisdom's ways to choose.
For when the husband left her side,
And to the alehouse constant hied;
The wife was led by heavenly grace,
To seek and find a different place!
She found Religion soothe her mind,
She found a God and Saviour kind,
She found salvation for her soul,
That balm which makes the wounded whole.
Found in the Gospel's wondrous plan,
That bliss we vainly seek from man.

Just at the Sabbath evening's close,
In God's own house she heard the news
Of Dawson's sad and sudden end ;-
It was too late her aid to lend,
To smooth his passage to the grave,
And point to Christ the strong to save.
So deep and sudden was the wound,
It sunk her senseless to the ground:
And nature so much stung and tried,
Gave up the ghost !-and soon she died.

Ye husbands !-love, and be it proved,
Ye also seek to be beloved ;
By all that sweetens married life,
By all that charms the tender wife.
Ye wives !--be it your chiefest care,
Your husband's joys and griefs to share,
To make your homes his happiest place,
And read his welcome in your face.

Reader !-shun now the sinner's road,
And give your sabbaths to your God;
Both rest from work and rest from sin,
The needful change this hour begin ;
'Tis not too soon to be thus wise,
'Twill be too late should death surprise,
For ere an instant life may flee,
And leave thee death and misery.

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