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THE FIRESIDE. THE PENNY POST.
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 bloodshedthat 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 for 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 have 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 has 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, unfeeling, 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 Hnear 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.
ments were made accordingly for the burial to take place on Thursday, the 14th, 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 as "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
"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 am 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.
H. P. [Our correspondent furnishes his own address as well as that of each of the parties. What a mischievous 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 needing 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.
LOVE YOUR PARENTS.-Yes, love them your father and mother. And indeed you ought to love them if it were only for their love and care of you. When you were a little baby and could neither walk nor talk, and knew nothing at all, who took care
FATHER IS COMING.
The father's work is done;
of you then?-your father and THE clock is on the stroke of six, mother. Your father worked six days every week that he might have money to buy you food and clothing, and your mother did little else than take care of you. She carried you about in her arms all day when you were awake, and when you fell asleep she laid you down in your snug warm cradle bed, and directly she heard you cry she hastened to come and take you up and give you her own good milk, and felt so happy as you lay in her arms enjoying that warm, and sweet, and nourishing food, just suited for you, and always ready and always good. And there she would sit and sing to you that sweet lullaby, "Mayst thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days, Then go dwell for ever near Him,
See His face and sing His praise.
I could give thee thousand kisses,
Could to greater joys aspire."
did for you.
And then as you grew up how did your father and mother try to teach you and help you how to walk and talk, and oh how pleased they were when you could begin to do both. Many other kind things they did for you of which you know nothing at all, and you never will know all they Oh then you ought to love your parents-always, as long as you live you ought to love them, and always take notice of what they say, for they love you yet more than anybody else, and will always advise you for your good. Happy those children who honour and love their father and mother; God will bless them with long life and happiness,
as he hath promised, "Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy GOD giveth thee."
The night wind it is blowing cold,
He's stronger than the storm; He does not feel the cold, not he,
His heart it is so warm.
For father's heart is stout and true
Would all men were the same!
So very slow to blame!
Would they were more! that every
Some wish of his I knew!
I'm sure it makes a happy day,
That baby's almost wild;
His father's self in face and limb,
He's through the garden gate; Run, little Bess, and ope the door,
And do not let him wait! Shout, baby, shout, and clap thy hands,
For father on the threshold stands!
HAPPY the man, however poor,
John Dawson was a farmer's man,
We rise in life, we know not how,
Thus poor John Dawson spent his days,
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,
This said John Dawson married young,
Whence did their troubles then begin? The husband was drawn into sin.
By a vile neighbour led astray,
How different was Dawson's spouse,
Just at the Sabbath evening's close,
Ye husbands!-love, and be it proved,
Reader!-shun now the sinner's road,