small means were expended on the education of his sons, Amelie spent the earlier years of her life in spinning, weaving, and perhaps, even on an emergency, scouring a floor. All her household duties were, however, conscientiously performed, although she devoured every book that came in her way, digesting its contents over her mechanical labours, so that even when thus employed, her mind was developing. From the early age of five, she knew that she had a Father in heaven, and though encountering by the way many a difficulty, many an impediment, she yet advanced onward, ever onward, towards her heavenly home.

She was a singularly dutiful daughter, never undertaking anything without the advice and blessing of her father. This also speaks much for the character of the parent. Nevertheless, there was one higher than her earthly father, as she says-" From my tenderest years I have thrown myself upon Jesus alone, nor has any undertaking of mine prospered in which I have followed human advice, or obeyed the will of others in opposition to the warning of an inner voice."

In 1843 she began to work quietly amongst the poor of Carlshamm, where her family was then residing. She visited the lowest cabins of sin and misery, carrying with her a clean cloth and candles. The cloth she spread on a table, and the candles she lighted, for to the Swedes clean table-linen and lighted candles convey the idea of the highest rejoicing and festivity. Having done this, made all beautifully impressive and attractive, she then poured out words of divine truth and kindliness into the hearts of the poor inmates. She produced in this way such an extraordinary effect, that the poor, wretched people used to clean up their miserable abodes in the hope of her coming, that she might see she was expected and made welcome.

For nine years she carried on a large

Sunday-school. amongst the sailors, and the demoralized class of workmen, and found, throughout the experience of her life, men more easy to influence than

She laboured, too,

women.

In 1856 a still more extensive field of labour was opened to her. She came to Stockholm for the purpose of conversing with religious-minded persons whose views accorded with her own, and especially as regarded certain tendencies which she greatly deplored. Here she was strongly urged to proceed to Dalecarlia, where the Church was much shaken. She hesitated at first, for the distance was great and the people strange to her. At length, believing it to be the Divine will, she went there, and talking with the people, great numbers thronged to listen. conversed with them also in private, circulated orthodox works, and was regarded by them as a messenger of God, and at the urgent entreaty of many, returned to them the following year.

She

From this time forth she became a religious lecturer among the poorer orders generally, over whom she exercised great power. With the cultivated classes she could do less; those she intended to benefit by her pen, and that only after her death, for she feared that excessive partiality on one side, and rancour on the other, might destroy the wholesome effect at which she aimed.

She had not, strange to say, much influence with children, but she trusted that by felling some great trees little ones might be brought down with them, and rejoiced that there were so many loving women who especially could work amongst the young.

Spite of her simple, unassuming manners, which vanquished the prejudices of many, as might naturally be expected, she met with violent opposition; still, without any effort on her part, as one door of usefulness was closed another opened.

Various clergymen warmly espoused

her cause, inviting her to their districts during the great festivals of the Church. She would then, after the conclusion of the service, hold meetings in the summer in the open air. These meetings began with a hymn, in which hundreds of deeply affected voices joined. Her discourses continued for two, sometimes even for three hours, the people listening with rapt attention. Her voice was tenderly persuasive, and as she would describe to them the poor prodigal man or woman returning to the Father's house, often giving them her own experiences, many were the hearts which she won. She exhorted them also to obey the authority of the law, for the law's sake; nor did she omit earnest prayer for the Church and its ministers, especially including the pastor of her own parish and his family.

Her journeyings through the woods, and her abode in desolate country cabins, undermined her health, yet she never gave up her work, which she regarded as a calling from God. When

not labouring abroad she continued her "Pictures of Christian Life."

During the winter of 1859, she had a fall on the ice, by which she was considerably hurt; nevertheless, though suffering great pain, she continued the journey she was then upon, for eight days longer, preaching for many hours during the day, and sleeping at night in the humble homestead, forgetting, as she says, the pain and uneasiness which she endured, in the kindness of her sisters in the faith, and the praying, singing, reading, and conversation of her spiritual brothers.

Towards the end of February of the same winter, waiting one Sunday for some friend, in a cold churchyard after service, she was chilled, and subsequently preaching in a small over-heated cabin, she became seriously unwell. From this day her last illness dates, and on the 30th of the following month she departed this life, some of her last words being "My spirit is well-onwards!-onwards! Victory and light! I see now clearly-much more clearly!"

A WELL-KNOWN popular proverb affirms that you may as well sentence a certain quadruped to immediate execution as to give him a bad name; and the charity which this proverb is supposed to bespeak for the animal, I may at least claim for the human being. As a rule, people generally have not hesitated to give the worst of names to the London cabman. He is a tough, truculent, extortionate, rough speaking, greedy, and grumbling creature, with more of the horseleech in his disposition than any ten of the sons of men combined. Give him plenty of drink, and no lack of weak, timorous fares, on which to impose, and you can give him no higher happiness; soul, conscience,

capacity for moral enjoyment he has none; and therefore it matters not whether you keep him employed all day upon the Sabbath, or make him wait all night before the doors of theatres, casinos, supper-rooms, and so-called pleasure-gardens, from which people. emerge in every stage of intoxication, as late as three o'clock in the morning. Let it be cabby's work to take pious people to church, and to fetch vicious persons home from their haunts of amusement; let his life be a perpetual series of temptations to what is lowest and most degrading, and let it not be a matter of the slightest moment whether he has a soul that is either saved or lost. It must be confessed that until within

late years such was the conclusion at which men only too generally arrived concerning the cabman. You have only to become slightly acquainted with him, however, to know perhaps the position he once occupied in social life, to hear him talk without his whip and when off his box, to see him at home a weary, careworn man, with the consciousness oppressing him, as he looks upon his large family, that there is little to get and many to keep-in a word, you have only to be just to this man, to take at once a generous view of his case. Only yesterday, before putting pen to paper, I saw one whose word it would be unreasonable to doubt, and he told me that he had been as many as three days on the box without taking a sixpence. It rained incessantly, and each night he went home dripping wet. All this time, too, while earning nothing for himself, he was getting deeper and deeper into debt with his master, of whom he rented the cab at eighteen shillings per day; and he would need an unusual run of business to recover himself. Nevertheless, he neither lost faith nor courage; getting into what poor bed he had, out of his solitary suit of dripping clothes, he used to say to his wife, "Dry the things, Mary, and let us be ready against to-morrow." The cabby that could act like this-and he is but a type of thousands of his class-is not altogether unworthy perhaps of a little human sympathy and common civility.

Our readers are aware that the cabs of the metropolis are now divided into what are called "six-day" and "sevenday" conveyances. The number of cabs last May, registered to run only six days per week, was 2,419; the sevenday cabs numbered 3,838; the two numbers added together will represent the total of cabs running during the month. It is encouraging to know that a great number of the men who drive the six-day cabs are in fellowship with Christian churches, and employ their Sabbaths in getting good and in doing

good. Some of them are able to speak very effectively to their fellows of the truths they themselves have realized. At Mr. Fleming's special services for those who attend no place of worship, in the neighbourhood of Kentish Town, the addresses of converted cabmen, for their simplicity, earnestness, and point, have been beyond all praise. Some of these six-day cabmen will make no ordinary sacrifices, for men in their position, rather than violate the Sabbath. "I know of one man," said a city missionary to me, “who pays his employer a certain sum weekly to keep his cab and horse at home on Sunday rather than go out against his conscience." This same humble Christian is to be found engaged every Sabbath in finding out and conversing with the sick among the poor of his neighbourhood. The number of men who are determined not to work on the Lord's-day is steadily increasing. On mere prudential grounds, in respect to health, cabmen are beginning to see the importance of resting on the Sabbath. A missionary to the day cabmen, who has given me much valuable information, says that he has good reason to hope that ere long we shall find the majority of the cabs plying in London are those which are worked only six days in each week. At present more than one-third of the drivers, who to a comparatively recent period were compelled to work on the Lord's-day, now rest and enjoy the privilege of attending public worship with their wives and families. He says that he has noticed a surprising difference in a man when he becomes a six-day driver, both in respect to cleanliness and general behaviour. He becomes cheerful and civil, looks better, talks better, and is better altogether; a better husband, father, and citizen.

This missionary has estimated that a cabman who works six days a week, working as he does from fifteen to eighteen hours per day, really makes nine days according to ordinary me

chanics' hours; but when the labour of the seventh day is added, we cannot be surprised that so many cabmen break down in health, and even become lunatics, as the result of this unnatural strain upon mind and body. "My experience," he says, "has proved that all those who work every day alike, suffer severely in mind and body; they become so bewildered as scarcely to know what they are doing. I know of one man who did not go to bed for several weeks because his wife had offended him, but worked his cab continually night and day; and he told me that towards the latter part of the time, his mind was in such a confused state, that

he could not tell whether he was putting to the horse, or taking him out of harness. Hundreds of these poor men are in an exactly similar state of mind, some even so bad as to require removal to lunatic asylums. There is one man now at Colney Hatch asylum, called 'Black Sam,' whose mental derangement, it is supposed, was occasioned by overwork, and too frequent application to strong drink as a stimulant. The agents of the London City Mission, who are engaged both among day and night cabmen, have given from time to time encouraging reports of the manner in which their efforts are received."

The day cabmen are frequently men of a fair education, and are able smartly to express their opinions upon many subjects. Their chief book is the penny newspaper or periodical, and there are some who pride themselves upon infidel sentiments, and will not hesitate to quote Colenso and other notabilities, who, in their judgment at least, favour the cause of infidelity. These day-men have come from almost every imaginable position in life to fill their present lot. They were once drapers, wheelwrights, grocers, draymen, post-boys, and I know not what beside; but as one of them expressly said, "A cabby, sir, is a refuge for the destitute." Many of them in early years received a Sabbath-school instruction, and this may account for the readiness with which they listen to the kind exhortations of the missionary. They will take tracts, especially illustrated ones, with thankfulness. "British Workman " is a favourite with them, and it is not the least pleasant of sights to see a cluster of them together conning over its full-paged wood-cut, and making their perfectly original criticisms thereon.

The

When it is remembered that there are but five missionaries employed amongst

the reader will see at once that each has a very wide district to work. The missionary to whom I have already referred has a very large and important district it is bounded by the Thames on the south, by Southampton Row and Russell Square on the west, by Islington on the north, and by Mile End on the east, including the Great Northern, the Great Eastern, the Blackwall, and the Metropolitan Railway Stations, and all the City stands both for omnibuses and cabs. Besides these, he enters into religious conversation, if he can, with multitudes of cabmen waiting for their fares at different places of business, and he gives tracts to them. It is, of course, very difficult to converse at any length with any of them, but words have been dropped amid the hurry and bustle of the street which, by the Divine blessing, have proved like good seed cast into good ground.

It may be interesting perhaps to refer to one or two cases of usefulness in this valuable agent's district. He knew a cabman who was notoriously one of the greatest drunkards in London-considered indeed by some to be without a rival in this respect. He used to laugh to scorn all conversations about Divine