THE FIRESIDE. The Fireside. RELIGION AT HOME.-"Let them learn first," says Paul, "to show piety at home." Religion begins in the family. The holiest sanctuary on earth is home. The family altar is more venerable than any altar in any cathedral. The education of the soul for eternity begins by the fireside. The principle of love, which is to be carried through the universe, is first to be unfoided in the family. We learn to love God by loving our brothers and sisters and mother. That is, we exercise the same feeling which, in an exalted degree, is to be directed to God. So that it is true in a sense more familiar, and yet more comprehensive, than is commonly given to it: "He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how ean he love God whom he hath not seen?" FIRESIDE VERSES. BY CHARLES SWAIN. OUR HOME AND FRIENDS AROUND US. THE QUIET VOICE OF KINDNESS. OH, there's a power to make each hour If we'd but stoop to raise them! But soon we're taught that earth has naught Like Home and Friends around us. The Friends that speed in time of need, When Hope's last reed is shaken, To show us still, that come what will, We are not quite forsaken: Though all were nigh-if but the light From Friendship's altar crown'd us, 'Twould prove the bliss of earth was this Our Home and Friends around us! TIME to me this truth has taught, ('Tis a truth that's worth revealMore offend for want of thought, ing,) Than from any want of feeling; If we've but a word to say, Oft unknowingly the tongue Touches on a chord so aching, Many a fault of human blindness, Many a beauteous flower decays, Though we tend it ere so much; Something secret in it preys, Which no human aid can touch. That if touched is more oppressed, Left unto itself is healed! 66 THE CHILDREN'S CORNER. The Children's Corner. THE TWO BROTHERS.-In Mr., broken the laws of the school, after Kilpin's school were two brothers repeated warnings; you have said from 11 to 12 years old. One of he must suffer; therefore, as I know these children had, after repeated you would not speak an untruth and admonitions, manifested a deter- the laws must be kept, and he is mined obstinacy and sulky resist- sullen and will not repent, what can ance. Mr. Kilpin told him that the be done, sir? Please to take me, result of such conduct would be a because I am stronger than he." chastisement that would not easily The boy then threw his arms around be forgotten. He was preparing to his brother's neck, and wetted his inflict it on the still hardened child, sulky hardened face with tears of when his brother Paul came for- tenderness. This was rather more ward and entreated that he might than poor James could stand firmly. bear the punishment in the place His tears began to flow, and his of his brother. Mr. Kilpin remarked, heart melted; he sought for forgiveMy dear Paul, you are one of my ness, and embraced his brother. Mr. best boys, you have never needed K. clasped both in his arms, and chastisement; your mind is tender, prayed for a blessing on them from and I could not be so unjust as to give Him, of whom it was said, "He you pain, my precious child." The was wounded for our transgressions, dear boy said, "I shall endure more he was bruised for our iniquities: pain to witness his disgrace and the chastisement of our peace was suffering than anything you can in- upon him; and with his stripes we flict on me; he is a little boy, and are healed." younger and weaker than I am; pray, sir, allow me to take all the punishment; I will bear anything from you. O do, sir, take me in exchange for my naughty brother!" "Well, James, what say you to this noble offer of Paul's?" He looked at his brother, but made no reply. Mr. K. stood silent. Paul still entreated for his punishment, that it might be finished, and wept. Mr. K. said, "Did you ever hear of any who bore stripes and insults to shield offenders, Paul?" "O yes, sir, the Lord Jesus Christ gave his back to the smiters, for us poor little sinners, and by his stripes we are healed and pardoned. O sir, pardon James for my sake, and let me endure the pain. I can bear it better than he." "But your brother does not seek pardon for himself; why should you feel this anxiety, my dear Paul: does he not deserve correction?" "O yes, sir, he has THE DAISY. BY JOHN MASON GOOD, M.D. NOT worlds on worlds in phalanx deep, Need we to prove a God is here; Tells of his hand in lines as clear. Could rear the daisy's purple bud? That, set in silver, gleams within? And fling it, unrestrain'd and free, O'er hill, and dale, and desert sod; That man, where'er he walks, may see, In ev'ry step, the stamp of God! THE PENITENT PRISONER. BY THE LATE REV. J. HINTON, BAPTIST MINISTER, OXFORD. TOWARDS the latter end of December, 1804, I received a letter from Thomas Davis, a prisoner in Oxford castle gaol, requesting that I would visit him for the purpose of communicating religious instruction. I immediately complied with his request, and found him to be a man of respectable appearance and agreeable manners. He told me that he had been committed to prison a few days before he wrote to me, on the charge of uttering a forged Bank of England note. Upon my inquiring into the reasons which had induced him to make this application, he replied to this effect:-"When I was apprehended at Chipping-Norton, I dropped some expressions of dread respecting the gloominess of a prison, and the evil company that is usually found there; and added, I fear no one will be there to pity me. God have mercy upon me! These words were overheard by a kind-hearted man who was present, and he told me he was sure Mr. Hinton, if sent for, would visit me in prison. This assurance gave me joy, and I now thank you, sir, that you have come at my request." "And what,” said I, “is your wish, now I am come?" He answered, "I am committed for a crime which, if proved, will affect my life; but, though this is a serious matter, I am far more concerned about my general conduct and character. I have lived in a very bad way. There are many sins which human laws do not punish, and the crime for which I am committed is but a small part of my guilt: my life has been full of evil; I wish therefore to think of it all, and to know the best way of preparing myself to meet my great account." This frank address very much interested me. I immediately furnished him with a Bible, and some other books, and exhorted him to faithful examination, repentance, and prayer. At the next interview, he appeared to me to possess a full belief in the being and government of God, and a conviction that he had exposed himself to his displeasure by a life of sin; but he seemed to know nothing of the necessity or design of the death of Christ, and had not thought at all on the depravity and treachery of his own heart. He believed he could by his own repentance make atonement for sin, and by his own strength cast off its power. "Were I but once out of prison," said he, “I would THE PENITENT PRISONER. never do a wicked thing again all my life." When I expressed my apprehension that, if he could be set at liberty that day, he would in a month be as bad as he had ever been, he seemed astonished that I could entertain so ill an opinion of him. After I had referred, in proof of the wickedness of the heart and the folly of trusting it, to several scriptures, and especially to the self-confidence and subsequent fall of Peter, he was silenced; but he was not convinced that it was possible he could ever become wicked again. My conversation and prayers, together with the reading of the Scriptures, (to which the prisoner paid great attention) were directed to open to his view the plague of his own heart; the essence of his guilt, as contained in those depraved and sinful dispositions by which he had been led to the commission of so many crimes; and the absolute insufficiency of his repentance and obedience to make atonement for his sins, or to remove the sentence of divine condemnation which lay upon him. Very soon I perceived that my labour was not in vain. I saw each day increasing light break in upon his mind. In a few days he said, "Sir, I perceive you are right: my bad thoughts and bad designs, my purposes and contrivances of iniquity, are indeed the greatest part of my guilt; and now, what is worst of all is that, though I would repent, my heart is hard, and I cannot. Evil thoughts break into my mind, and I cannot drive them away; and every night, when I am in my cell, my whole life comes in review, with a thousand things which I have not thought of for many years, and all is so black and dreadfulWhat shall I do?" Then clasping his hands with eagerness, he added, "O God be merciful to me a sinner! But how can I expect mercy, who went on in sin till justice laid hold on me, and who came to God only because I had nowhere else to How can such repentance as mine be sincere! What will become of my soul! I fear not death, if God will but have mercy on my soul!" go! It became necessary now to administer the consolations of the gospel and I endeavoured to unfold to the trembling penitent, the fullness and freedom of divine mercy, through the sufferings and death of the Lord Jesus. For some time he greatly hesitated to receive the consolation: but on making it a matter of earnest prayer for several days, that God would enable him to apprehend the Saviour's willingness, as well as his ability, to save the chief of sinners, I perceived the gloom gradually wearing off his mind. He began to say, "It is THE PENITENT PRISONER. possible that I may be saved, and I have a little hope. Christ died for the worst of sinners. Christ saved one thief who repented in his last hours; surely he can, and he may, save me. It seems," added Davis, "as though God had thoughts of mercy towards me; else why did he bring me here? Why has he given me three months to think of my conduct, when I might have been apprehended and tried in three days? How I came to be at Chipping-Norton, I cannot tell; I had no business there, but surely it was that I might be brought hither to be taught the way of salvation. I bless God night and day that I ever entered the walls of this prison. The little hope I feel that I shall obtain mercy from God, gives a happiness to which none of the pleasures of sin can ever be compared. I never knew anything like happiness till now. O that I may but be saved at the last!" Two or three weeks before his trial, there remained but little doubt on my mind of his being a partaker of divine grace. About this time I conceived it proper to state to him (for I saw that he was able to bear it) that the nature and circumstances of his offence were such as to preclude all hope, either of an acquittal or a reprieve; and that it was kindness in his friends to request that he would contemplate death, as an event both certain and at hand. He received this communication with great solemnity; but replied, “It does not grieve me, so that God will show mercy to my soul.” “That,” I replied, "he has promised to do, and he will not break his promise." Then," added Davis, "I will hope. Let us kneel and pray:"—an exercise for which he was always ready. He passed the fortnight preceding his trial, in alternate hope and fear respecting the safety of his soul. His great inquiry was, "How can I know that my repentance is sincere, or that I should not, if screened from present punishment, return to sin again?" At other times he would exclaim, "God who knows my heart, knows that I should dread to return to sin, as the worst of punishment." 66 He was con His trial took place on the 7th of March. victed on the clearest evidence, and the Judge, in passing sentence, assured him there was no hope of mercy for him, but at a higher than an earthly tribunal. Having already the sentence of death in himself, he met the decision without any violent agitation; and both before and after his trial, seemed strongly affected by no circumstances but those which |