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FORGIVENESS OF TNJURIES.
desire after true knowledge; in others, it is but a mere trifiing curiosity. Still it exists in all; and in all it is beneficial, as a stimulus to improvement.
Reading lays open to the view things distant both in space and time. It carries us back to the earliest ages of antiquity; it leads us into converse with the wisest and best of men, and makes them appear to have lived and written for our advantage. It also carries us abroad to the most distant parts of the earth; exhibiting to our view the manners and curiosities of every 'nation, and displaying, in ten thousand instances, the goodness and power of God, whom it consequently tends to exalt in our ideas, and towards whom it thus excites or increases our gratitude.
(To be continued.)
A STRIKING INSTANCE OF THE FORGIVENESS
OF INJURIES. To the Editor of the Youth's Instructer. Tue following anecdote is extracted from an Amee rican Paper, “ The New York Journal,” for August 14, 1821. It is there stated, 66 that it is not a cre. ation of fancy, but an occurrence of real life.” Perhaps its insertion in the Youth's Instructer may be interesting to some of your juvenile readers, as illustrative of the spirit of that beautiful passage, Rom. xii. 20, “ If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head;"-a spirit which they cannot seek too early, or cultivate too industriously.
A.G.J.. It is now about fifty years since two young HighJanders, who had both honourably served their apprenticeship, one as a clerk to a solicitor, the other as a merchant's clerk, bid adieu to their friends and the joyous scenes of early youth in their native town of 1****s, and departed together, to seek business, wealth, and preferment, in the metropolis of the British empire. The excellent characters which they sustained, enabled them, soon after their arrival in
London, to procure employment in their respective occupations; and by their industry and fidelity, they secured the confidence and esteem of their employers, In a few years they both commenced business on their own account. The Solicitor, though not eminently distinguished for talents, was nevertheless highly respectable, and obtained a competent support, but did not advance to wealth. The Merchant, by his enterprise and skill in business, early acquired an independent fortune, which enabled him to move in the highest : circles of taste and fashion. His great prosperity, with the high standing which he had acquired upon the Exchange, and in the consideration of the wealthy and the fashionable, excited the jealousy of his respectable, but not equally fortunate countryman. Envy touched the breast of the latter, first blunted the feelings of friendship, and then continued to prey upon its victim till he became entirely estranged from the companion and friend of his youth; and he sought every occasion to lessen his influence and character with the sons of St. ANDREW. This unkind treatment, which envy alone had prompted, was not unobserved by the Merchant; but he bore it in patient silence till an occasion offered to gratify the demon of reyenge, or, by, a noble deed of generosity, to drive unkindness from the bosom of his former companion, and restore the reciprocal good feelings which once existed,
A vacancy occurred in the Solicitorship of an important Society, and the honour and emoluments at. tached to the office, brought forward a number of candidates, among whom was the once bosom-friend of the Merchant, whose chance against some of his rivals, supported by powerful friends, hardly inspired *a hope of success. He, however, addressed circulars *tv all the electors, except his former friend, soliciting their support. He knew the influence of the Merchant would turn the election, whichsoever way it should be directed ; but the coldness which had so long existed between them, prevented his addressing him even in the customary formal manner. The Merchant, actua ated by that nobleness of soul which lifts its possessos
above the mean but tempting spirit of revenge, entered unasked warmly into the election; and, though it was sharply contested, his influence secured the choice of his estranged friend.
The Solicitor was overcome by this unexpected deed of generosity from one whom he was conscious he had repeatedly sought to injure. His heart was filled with gratitude, while his pride revolted from the task of making the acknowledgment which he earnestly desired to make. He sought how to convey to the Merchant a knowledge of his sincere and deep-fekt gratitude, in such a manner as should be least humi liating to a lofty and unbending spirit, and soon fixed upon a method the most expressive of the feelings with which he was penetrated. He repaired to the counting-house of the Merchant, with whom he had not exchanged even ordinary civilities for a number of years, and, on meeting him, drew a roll of bread from his pocket, and with a full and overflowing heart, whilst the tears coursed down his cheeks, and fell upon the roll as he extended it, he faultered out the words, " My friend, will you break bread with me?" The agony of feeling was truly reciprocal, as they broke bread together. The Solicitor made an effort to say, “God bless you!” as he hastily retired with an overcharged heart. .
THE TRAVELLER. No. III.
THE VILLAGE SUNDAY-SCHOOL.
" From cottages obscure,
From ignorance, vice, and woe,
True happiness to know."
WHEN I had dined, I set out for the Village Suoday-School. On arriving there, I found many of the children assembled, though it wanted more than a quarter of an hour of the time appointed for the commencement of the opening service.' This game
me great pleasure, as affording a proof that the value of Sunday-School instruction was duly appreciated by the children of the village. In a short time the Conductor came in; and a hymn was sung, which, with a prayer, began the duties of the afternoon. The names of the children were next called over; and, after the examination as to cleanliness was con. cluded, and those who were faulty in that respect had received an admonition for their carelessness, the spelling in the different classes commenced ; and the Conductor had then a little leisure, which was occupied in explaining to me the regulations and economy of the School uuder his management. ,
It consisted of about a hundred and thirty children, for whom there were eight or ten teachers. Their rules, as well as their system of teaching, were characterized by plainness and simplicity,-a proof of their good sense. It cannot be expected that a village Sunday-School should have all those exterval appear. ances of a well-ordered and harmonizing system, which some large and duly-regulated schools in populous towns exhibit, where there are ushers, secretaries, librarians, monitors, and a host of other officers, rendered necessary by their magnitude and multiplicity of business. In all things, the means should be proportioned to the end. What is useful and efficient in some cases, will, in others, be totally inappli. cable. In the formation of a country Sunday School, it is best to begin on the most simple plan ; gradually making provision for exigencies, as they may arise.
The Conductor of this School appeared to have been influenced by correct motives in its formation. It was established and conducted on a plain and economical plan ; and, without any parade, was calcu. lated to do much good. I
We now took a walk down the room. I forgot to inform my readers, that the School was kept in what had once been a barn. It was thatched, and stood pleasantly shaded by a few tall elm-trees. Several windows had been made in the walls, when it was converted into a School; and it was sufficiently light
and comfortable for the purpose to which it was now devoted. As we went down the room, I observed that, some of the children were engaged in spelling, others in reading the Scriptures, and some in repeating the Catechism. When the time allotted for the first lesson had expired, one scholar in each class stood up; and commencing at the first class, a verse of a certain chapter was read aloud by each boy in succession. The Conductor, at the same time, with a Bible in his hand, stood at the upper end of the room, occasionally making such remarks as the subject called forth. This was to me a novel plan; and, as I could perceive, was well calculated to gain the attention of the children. When this was over, the scholars proceeded to the next lesson, and I again entered into conver- · sation with the Conductor. Our discourse turned upon the different characters of children; and as I had some experience myself, having been a Sunday: School Teacher, and as we had become quite uoreserved in our disclosures to each other, I hope that our communications would be mutually advantageous.
It would take up too much time to enumerate the various characters mentioned in our discourse ; such as the idle, the easy, the proud, the stubborn, the careless, the unteachable, the mean, the dishonest, and many more, such as, I hope, the readers of the Youth's Instructer will never in the slightest degree resemble.
But there was one character among those which the Conductor described, which particularly deserves to be known, and to be held up to all Sunday-School Children as an example for their imitation. It was that of a boy in the Bible-Class, whom he pointed out to me. His name was John Gibson. His parents were dead, and had left him an orphan at a very early age. His father had been a day-labourer. To his infancy, John was taken care of by his Aunt, who also taught him his letters ; and here her instructions ended. But he had always a love for what was useful and good, and from some village children, who had better opportunities than himself, he learned to read,