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on, a persevering, and continuing instant in prayer, a praying without ceasing. Luther prayed never less than three hours a day; John Welsh, eight. Many another saint has given us a pattern of perseverance in prayer, as if their knees were always bent, and their censers always burning. These are surely examples for our imitation; instances recorded to stir us up from our languor and sloth. Look into one of the closets of these holy men, or listen even at their closet-door; go and return again, and look and listen. Do you not see, do you not hear, something

that at once solemnizes and rebukes? What are our closets now? How little frequented; and even when used, how dif ferent the sounds that echo round their walls! Where are the days of fasting and supplication? Where are the groanings which cannot be uttered; the strong crying and tears; the continual pleading with God; the ordering of our cause before him; the heaping up of arguments; the speaking with him as friend with friend; the refusing to let him go until the blessing come?

REV. OLIVER HEYWOOD. "JESUS said to his disciples, When I sent you without purse or scrip, lacked ye anything? And they said, Nothing, Lord."

The spirit of persecution raged so hotly against the Rev. Oliver Heywood, that this worthy man was under the necessity of taking leave of his dear family, and going he knew not whither. But the question was, how should he be equipped for his journey? He had a horse, but the little money that remained must be left for the support of the family, for whom Mr. Heywood was much more concerned than for himself. One winter's morning, when it was yet dark, the horse was saddled, and this good man, after bidding adieu to his affectionate wife, and saluting his children in their beds, set out, like Abraham, when he left his father's house, not knowing whither he went. He moved silently along in by-ways for some time, for fear of being seen, till he got out of the neighbourhood. Having not one farthing in his pocket, to bear his travelling expenses, he committed himself to the protection of Providence. He determined at length to leave his horse at full liberty to go what way it would, and thus travelled on for a considerable part of the day, till both man and beast stood in great need of refreshment. Towards evening, the horse bent its course to a farm-house, a little out of the road. Mr. Heywood called at the door, and a clean, decent woman came out to inquire what he wanted. "I have reason," said he, "to make an apology for the liberty I have taken, being an entire stranger in these parts. My horse stands in need as well as myself of refreshment for the night: if you could, any way, make it convenient to furnish my horse with a little hay, and a stand under cover, and myself with a seat by your fire-side, I ask no more.' The good woman, a little surprised at his request, told him she would consult her husband. After a few minutes they both

came to the door, and Mr. Heywood repeated his solicitation: but told them he had no money to satisfy them for any trouble they might have on his account; yet he hoped God would reward them. They immediately desired him to alight: the master led the horse into the stable, and the mistress took the stranger into the house, invited him to sit down, stirred up the fire, and began to prepare him something to eat. Mr. Heywood told her that he was concerned to see her give herself so much trouble; that, being unable to make her any recompence, he did not request either a supper or a bed, but only that he might sit by the fireside till morning. The mistress assured him that for an act of hospitality she did not expect any reward; and that though the accommodations which her house would afford, were but indifferent, he should be welcome to them, and therefore she hoped he would make himself easy. After supper they all sat down before the fire, and the master of the house desired to know of the stranger what countryman he was. was born," said he, "in Lancashire; but I have a wife and family in the neighbourhood of Halifax." "That is a town," said the farmer, "where I have been; and some years ago, I had a little acquaintance with several persons there. Pray do you know Mr. S. and Mr. D.? and is old Mr. F. yet alive?" The stranger gave suitable answers to these and many other inquiries. At length the kind hostess asked him, "If he knew anything of one Mr. Oliver Heywood, who was formerly a Minister of some chapel, not far from Halifax, but was now, on some account or other, forbidden to preach." The stranger replied, "There is a great deal of noise and talk about that man: some speak well and some very ill of him: for my own part, I can say little in his favour." "I believe," said the farmer, "he is of that sect which is everywhere spoken against; but pray do you personally know him? and what is it that

"I

inclines you to form such an indifferent opinion of his character?" "I do know something of him," said the stranger; "but as I do not choose to propagate an ill-report of any one, if you please, we will talk on some other subject." After keeping the farmer and his wife in suspense for some time, who were a little uneasy at what he had said, he told them that he was the poor outcast of whom they had made so many kind inquiries. All was then surprise, and joy, and thankfulness, that the merciful Providence had brought him under their roof. The master of the house said, "Mr. Heywood, I am glad to see you, having long had a

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The

a

sincere regard for you, from the favourable reports I have always heard of you. night is not far spent: I have a few neighbours who love the Gospel: if you will give us a word of exhortation, will run and acquaint them. This is an obscure place; and as your coming here is not known, I hope we shall have no interruption." Mr. Heywood consented: small congregation was gathered; and he preached to them with that fervour, affection, and enlargement, which attending circumstances served to inspire. On this joyful occasion, a small collection was voluntarily made by the hearers to help the poor traveller on his way.

PARENTAL INFLUENCE. CONSIDER the influence of power which the judicious parent acquires over the child, and the beneficial purposes to which this power, in such hands, naturally tends.

Witness the power which Abraham must have acquired over Isaac, when you see him yield to his father on the top of Mount Moriah; for I have no idea that any violence was used. Witness the influence of this son over Jacob, when called upon to discover the object of his highest veneration by solemn oath. Then you hear him swear "by the fear of his father Isaac." See him also on the way to Egypt, yet afraid to go down; and, as soon as he arrives at Beersheba, the border of Canaan, lest he should plant his foot on forbidden ground, see him solemnly recognise his connexion with Isaac. There he offers sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac; and the Almighty as strikingly adverts to this. He replied in a vision of the night, "I am God, the God of thy father: I will go down with thee into Egypt; and I will also surely bring thee up; and Joseph shall put his hand on thine eyes."-Dead or alive, (as though the Lord had said,) it matters not; for my promise of blessing extends to thee and thine beyond the grave: still" I will bring thee up." So Joseph, under God, was the instrument employed; closing his father's eyes in death, and bringing up his body into the land of promise. Witness the influence of Jacob on Joseph. One day, when yet only a lad, Jacob had said to him, "What is this dream that thou hast dreamed? Shall I, and thy

mother, and thy brethren, indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the earth?" Yet Joseph lived to show the old man how all this might be true, and how he could still retain for him the highest regard and affection. See him, though "Lord of all Egypt," bowing before his venerable parent, and venerating and cherishing him, bringing even his children to receive their old grandfather's blessing; and see him afterwards, in company with his brethren, and in exact compliance with his father's request, carrying the bones of the Patriarch up into Canaan with so much respect. Witness the influence of his parents on Moses. Here was education too-that powerful engine-standing in the way, and which, so far as it went, must have chained him down to Egypt: but all is as nothing before the influence of his nursing mother and father. The choice of Moses is ascribed, indeed, to faith; for nothing else could account for it: but "faith cometh

by hearing; "and in the court of Pharaoh, or from Pharaoh's daughter, what had he heard, if his parents had not instilled into his mind their own principles?

But I need not here multiply examples, with which the sacred Scriptures abound; otherwise one might dwell on the influence and power of many parents: the influence of such a mother as Hannah over such a son as Samuel; the influence of the grandmother of Timothy on his mother, and of his mother on him, the man of whom even Paul said afterwards, "I have no man like-minded," or so dear to me.-C. Anderson.

A SABBATH EXCURSION.
(Concluded from p. 145.)

THE little skiff speedily reached its destination: the young people sprung joyously

on shore, and scrambled up the reef to where the wreck lay they had brought provisions with them; there was ample room for spreading them within the deserted cabin. Part of

the time was spent in examining the vessel, part in rambling along the reef, part in partaking of their cheerful meal, and the day was passed in gay, almost riotous, spirits, thoughtless of the past and reckless of the future.

The tide, which was going out when they embarked, had now for some hours turned, and was within a short period of high water, when suddenly a change came over the scene; the wind freshened, the tide swelled rapidly, and the waves that had before been little more than a gentle ripple, now rose with a moaning sound, and dashed one after another against the reefs. The young men, startled from their revel, rushed on deck. To their dismay they found that the boat was already surrounded with the waves: it had not yet been washed from its moorings, but there was every reason to fear that such an event must shortly take place; and how to reach it was the difficulty. It was in comparatively deep water. For themselves this would perhaps be practicable; but for their more timid companions there was danger as well as difficulty. And to remain where they were was impossible: the water rose so rapidly, that there was every reason to fear that the wreck itself might be speedily engulfed. Instant and vigorous efforts were necessary. They were made: they were successful. The lately joyous, thoughtless girls were now seated in the boat, half dead with fear; but the worst was not yet passed: how was that little boat to live in what was now indeed a stormy sea? We need not dwell on the terrors of the next hour: it was passed in active exertion, or sometimes painful consultation, by the young men; in constrained and fearful silence, broken occasionally by sudden exclamations of dread as some larger wave drew near threatening to engulf them altogether, by their more fearful companions. And now how felt the backslider? How did the whole scene of her past life rush on her memory; the vows broken; the privileges abused; the mercies trampled on; the Spirit of God resisted! She might be said to have lived a life of anguish in that hour.

At length they neared the welcome shore, and she could no longer restrain her feelings. She spoke of the transgression of which they had all been guilty, herself in particular; expressed her deep conviction that the storm had arisen for their punishment; and her firm determination that if it should please God to hear her prayers, and to bring her safely to land, she would never waste another Sabbathday. "And, even now," she said, "it may not be too late to redeem a part of this: the chapel will be open, the service will have little more than begun, and I shall go there at once."

No one opposed her resolve: the danger was not yet quite past, and perhaps some of them at least felt half disposed to adopt her resolution. A short time elapsed, and the

prayer of that penitent was answered: they were all safely landed; wet through, indeed, by the surge and wave, and worn out with terror and fatigue, but not seriously injured. "And now," said Miss B., "that God has in mercy spared us, I shall go direct to chapel : it is but half-past six: who will go with me?" "You cannot possibly mean it, Sarah," returned the young man to whom it was principally addressed: "it would be the height of folly, madness, to do so. You must hasten home, and change your dress directly: you will get your death of cold if you attempt it." "I have been nearer death to-day, Samuel, than cold will bring me," she replied; "and yet God has heard my prayer, and spared me. I have broken too many vows: I will not break the one I have now made while I was in trouble. I beg of you to go with me; but if you will not, I will go alone."

Her young friends crowded round her: entreaty, expostulation, even ridicule, to which she had once been so open, were tried: such a figure as she was in her habit, still almost dripping, and draggled with the sand, every one would smile at her. All were tried, but tried in vain. She had made her resolve, and in a better strength than her own she kept it. Even he who was most interested in her welfare, and who rightly judged that his own entreaties would have most influence, at length gave up the attempt. He left her, and she hastened onwards toward the chapel with a determined step, but with an aching heart, as she feared that the present separation would be too surely the forerunner of one that she then deemed would be fatal to her happiness: but she had, as we have said, made her resolve; and if it were necessary to pluck out even "the right eye," she would abide by it.

She entered the house of God: the service was considerably advanced, as, self-condemned and half fearful to meet the eye of those who knew her, and who might judge from her attire how awfully that day had been abused, she noiselessly entered and stole into a seat. The second singing had ceased. The Preacher announced his text. She started at the voice, for it was one painfully familiar to her: she lifted up her eye, it rested on a countenance of singular sweetness and placidity; but the sight of which filled her repentant heart with deepest anguish. The Preacher had been formerly known to her, in those happy days of girlhood when she too had trod willingly in the paths of pleasantness and peace; when she too had called the Sabbath a delight, honourable. Years had passed away, and he had been, in the providence of God, far distant, publishing in other towns, and, in some instances, in other lands, the same blessed Gospel. She had heard of his return into that part of his Master's vineyard, but she had not before seen him; and now her eye fell before that calm, but, as she thought, reproving glance. She felt as if he had

singled her out a second time. He announced his text; and now those sacred words fell on her ear, nay more, on her awakened conscience. Had not those words been selected especially for her had not he known of her transgression? or rather, had not the God he served guided his servant in the choice? They were indeed wonderfully adapted to her case : "The backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways."

She listened with the most earnest attention, with the deepest contrition. The blessed effects of this day passed not from her heart and memory. Her penitential prayers were heard. He who hath said, "Return unto me, ye backsliding children, and I will return unto you;" He who healeth our backslidings, was there to hear and to answer.

From that time she became a zealous, a consistent, and an influential member of the Wesleyan society. It was her happy lot, for such in truth she deemed it, to become, some two years after, the wife of that very Minister. She lived for many years, cheering him onward in his heavenward course, the helper of

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his faith, partaker of the same joy, traveller to the same happy home, adorning in all things the doctrine of God her Saviour, an ensample to all around how Christians ought to walk : and many were those to whom that ensample was a blessing; many who shall rise up in that day and call her blessed. She lived to smooth her husband's dying pillow; to hear that he had entered into rest, without a murmur; and but with one simple heartfelt prayer, "My Father, take me to him," for eighteen short days she mourned his loss, as Christians mourn, and then,

"The soul had o'ertaken its mate

And caught him again in the sky." Their ashes mingle in the same tomb; their happy spirits have joined the quickly increasing multitude "which no man can number," and are even now singing that new song, "Unto Him that hath loved us, and washed us from our sins in his blood, be glory for ever and ever."

She was my mother. Mere Lodge, Liverpool.

THE RELATION OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS.

THIS is a relation which will continue to the end of time. Equality of condition is alike contrary to the nature of things, and to the appointment of God. Some must toil, and others direct; some command, and others obey: nor is this order contrary to the real interest of the multitude, as at first sight it might appear. The acquisition of wealth by a few affords more abundant employment to the many; and in a well-ordered, thriving, and industrious state, except in seasons of peculiar distress, it is evident that the comforts of the lower classes are greater than could be attained were the land equally divided among them, and so left to their own cultivation that no one should be the servant of another. To preserve such a state of things would be impossible; and could it be done, no arts but of the rudest kind, no manufactures, and no commerce could exist. The very first attempt to introduce these would necessarily create the two classes of workmen and employers; of the many who toil with the hands, and the few who labour with the mind, in directing the operations; and thus the equality would be destroyed.

It is not, however, to be denied, that, through the bad principles and violent passions o man, the relations of servant and master have been a source of great evil and misery. The more, therefore, is that religion to be valued, which, since these relations must

S. E. A.

exist, restrains the evil that is incident to them, and shows how they may be made sources of mutual benevolence and happiness. Wherever the practical influence of religion has not been felt, servants have generally been more or less treated with contempt, contumely, harshness, and oppression. They, on the contrary, are, from their natural corruption, inclined to resent authority, to indulge selfishness, and to commit fraud, either by withholding the just quantum of labour, or by direct theft. From the conflict of these evils in servants and in masters, too often result suspicion, cunning, over-reaching, malignant passions, contemptuous and irritating speeches, the loss of principle in the servant, and of kind and equitable feeling on the part of the master.

stances;

The direct manner in which the precepts of the New Testament tend to remedy these evils cannot but be remarked. Government in masters, as well as in fathers, is an appointment of God, though differing in circumand it is therefore to be honoured. "Let as many servants as are under the yoke, count their own masters worthy of all honour;" a direction which enjoins both respectful thoughts, and humility, and propriety of external demeanour towards them. Obedience to their commands in all things lawful is next enforced; which obedience is to be grounded on principle and conscience, on "singleness of heart, as unto Christ;" thus serving a master with the same sincerity, the same desire to do the appointed work well, as is required of us by Christ. This service is

as

also to be cheerful, and not wrung out merely by a sense of duty: "Not with eye-service, as men-pleasers;" not having respect simply to the approbation of the master; but the servants of Christ," making profession of his religion," doing the will of God" in this branch of duty, "from the heart," with alacrity and good feeling. The duties of servants, stated in these brief precepts, might easily be shown to comprehend every particular which can be justly required of persons

in this station; and the whole is enforced by a sanction which could have no place but in a revelation from God,-"knowing that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord, whether he be bond or free." (Eph. vi. 5-8.) In other words, even the common duties of servants, when faithfully, cheerfully, and piously performed, are by Christianity made rewardable actions: "Of the Lord ye shall receive a reward."-The Rev. Richard Watson.

THE CORACLE

Is a boat of great antiquity, and was in constant use among the ancient people of Britain. As the inhabitants from their first arrival in this island continued to pass and repass to Gaul, and sometimes to navigate the German Ocean; and as the Irish not only traded with Britain, but maintained their intercourse occasionally with Spain, the languages of the people abound in terms connected with shipping. Cæsar mentions an engagement he had with the combined fleets of the Veneti and Britons, in which the ships are stated to have been built of oaken

planks, so firmly constructed that the beaks

of the Roman ships could scarce make an impression on them. The usual kind of vessels, however, which were used by the British and Irish, were the curwgyl, or currach, formed of osier-twigs covered with hide. Small boats of this size, and in shape like a walnut-shell, are still used on the rivers of Wales and Ireland. They constitute the vitilia navigia of Pliny. That historian informs us, that Timæus, an ancient writer, affirmed that the Britons used to visit an island at the distance of six days' sail in boats of wattles, and covered with skins.