VISIT TO A SABBATH SCHOOL. I HAVE long been an ardent lover of Sabbath Schools. Their obvious tendency being to do good not only to the dear little folks themselves, but to their parents, and their teachers, the church of Jesus Christ, and the world at large. Well might that enlightened christian philosopher, and shrewd observer of human nature, John Wesley, when he saw the rise and progress of these excellent institutions, express his wonder that the devil had not raised up a strong and violent opposition against them! In one view, it is a sad thing that such Schools are necessary. If all parents discharged their duty, and brought up their own children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, as they are commanded to do by the word of God, and as the voice of natural affection directs them, there would be no need of one Sabbath School in the country. And after all, there is no teaching like parental teaching, especially by mothers. A pious mother is the best teacher in the world. Some of the best men the world ever saw, were taught by their mothers. But, in the absence of parental instruction, what can be better than that those children, whose parents neglect them, should be gathered together and taught to read the Holy Scriptures? And the more such children are neglected, and allowed to run wild, the more diligent should every friend of humanity and religion be, in leading them from the paths of vice and folly into the ways of virtue and piety. In most large towns there are a great number of this class of children. Boys and girls, whose fathers and mothers never say anything to them about their souls, and their Saviour-never set them to read the Scriptures-never take them to the house of God. On the week-day, perhaps, they are employed in some factory, or workshop, and on the sabbath they get together for mischief, or play, or stand listening to the vile conversation of a crowd of idle fellows, on the bridge, or at the corner of the street. And this is their Sunday School. Last autumn I was engaged at one of the largest manufacturing towns, in the north of England, and was earnestly invited to visit a Sabbath-school in a populous and long-neglected district. I had some previous knowledge of the zeal and ability of some of the teachers, and so I consented. After walking a considerable distance we approached towards the outskirts of the town, inhabited chiefly by the poorer classes. We turned aside into an open yard, or fold, as they are there called. One of the teachers now pointed to two old dirty-looking cottages, observing, “There is our Sabbath-school." Not a very inviting place certainly in appearance. At the outer end of the cottages was a flight of wooden steps; on ascending which and entering the place, I found that the upper rooms of both these cottages were thrown into one, and these formed the schoolroom. And what a scene! why the place "was as full as it could cram." There were upwards of two hundred children crowded into these two little upper chambers. But then these children! these little living things! I must stop here to explain. I had often visited them by proxy before, but never in my proper person. They had been told in the morning that he who made the little magazines they read every month was in the town, and that he probably would visit them. When I entered the room and walked up to the desk, if I had been a king there could not have been more intense interest. Their little eyes sparkled, like so many diamonds, with joy and delight, I felt quite flattered, yea honoured—highly honoured. Yes and I would rather find the free and hearty good-will of a crowd of children like this, than seek the doubtful approval of many of riper years. Our Lord himself did not refuse the honours |