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was paying in for a family Bible. Let us hope he is now following some more agreeable occupation.

Doubtless, all the boys once had a name, but they were seldom known by their proper one, and I question if many of them really knew any other than the name given them by their companions. Often some peculiarity in their visage or person oroccupation gave rise to their cognomen. Thus, I had a boy who squinted, he was 'Blinker ;' one from Wales, 'Taffy;' 'The Lark,' Mike,' and so on. And I was obliged to address them in this manner from knowing no other name for them. They were a good-humoured, obliging set, and most of them would have been honest if they had possessed home and food.

After prayer was offered, a hymn sung, and the bell rung, I took the bag containing my purse or anything else, no matter how valuable, and hung it on the back of my chair. I would then say, 'Now Mike, Taffy,' or any one else on whom I wished to confer a favour, 'you take charge of my bag;' and I well knew it would be quite safe ; for if another boy had looked at it even, Mike would have been down upon him. And if I came alone any evening, I selected the 'bag-keeper' to see me out of Smithfield, knowing, that had the slightest annoyance been offered to me, a whistle from him would have brought a dozen strong arms to defend me. I made it a rule to place confidence in those I met with, until I had cause to alter my opinion, and it was very seldom that I had to do so. I found out that there is 'honour among thieves,' as I never lost the smallest trifle, although I would by no means have answered for their being equally honest to others.

I was frequently perplexed by the questions they put to me as we proceeded with the chapter; for 'cuteness was not wanting in them any more than in the girls. When we came to their lessons, many of them would repeat hymns and texts well; and when they were finished, it was, “Now, teacher, tell us a story.' So I used to store up any anecdote I thought would have an effect upon them. Then the question was, 'Is that true, teacher?' So I had to be very careful to relate nothing but what I could authenticate. You would be surprised at the familiar style in which the scholars of all ages addressed their teachers; and we met them in the same spirit. An unkind or harsh word would probably have driven them away; and then how much one would regret losing the opportunity of sowing a little of that good seed, which, we are assured, will never return void !

To claim acquaintance with their teacher is a great pleasure to all who attend the Ragged Schools. I have a very extensive circle of friends, of all ages and degrees. One day not very long ago, a little way out in the country, I saw a lad with a large basket of oranges on his head. Suddenly the lad put down the basket, and running across the road, held out a large hand to me, which I heartily shook. This was 'Irish Mike,' my former pupil at Field Lane, looking well. He earned a subsistence by hawking fruit. I am not sure that I was as well pleased when, going along Oxford Street on a beautiful day, I saw three or four very questionable-looking young men, of the 'rough' genus, standing at the entrance of a court, one of whom nodded to me in the most familiar manner, and said, “Oh! how do you do, teacher?' I could not stop in that crowded thoroughfare to find out which of my old friends he was; for I thought of an anecdote of Mr Payne, who, in speaking of the love of youth for recognising their teachers, mentioned that one day he saw a stout, good-looking lad coming along, who, in the most patronizing style, nodded to him, and said, “How do you do, teacher?' And much credit (added Mr Payne) I had in my pupil, for he was between two constables.'

In my next, I will tell you of our noble Earl (Lord Shaftesbury), and some of the other good men who then laboured—and many of them still do—in the Ragged School movemen:

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G. J.

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TITTING alone in his cabin, with an open

Bible before him, which he is reading with deep attention, we once more see Captain Bate. It is a glorious December morning in

the year 1857; but the still air is broken by the loud boom, boom of guns, startling the many thousand inmates of the city of Canton, and causing a look of deep gravity to flit ever and anon across the face of the solitary reader

. Captain Bate is now commander of the Actæon,' and in a few minutes is to set off with the admiral to take part in the bombardment of Canton ; he knows that he is going into the very midst of danger, but he

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fears not. Solemnized he is, and grieved to see many of those around him wild with excitement, regardless of what is before them. He has been busy all morning; but now he has a short time of quiet, and he gladly seizes the opportunity to commune with God. There, with his Bible before him, he speaks with his Father in heaven; then rising, he calls one to him who is a “brother in Jesus,' and together they read the 91st Psalm : 'He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.' The reading finished, they went forth to the post of action ‘fearing no evil,' for come life, or come death, all was well. That day was spent in reconnoitring and preparing for the great attack which was to be made on the city on the morrow. The next morning Bate was up early: along with his coxswain he once more read and prayed ; then, joining the admiral and other officers, he set off towards the city wall.

Balls and rockets were flying thick over their heads. In order to mount to a broken embrasure, it was necessary that some one should place the scaling ladders. It was a most dangerous duty; who would undertake it? One there was ready. Captain Bate at once offered to go, and, followed by many an anxious eye, he rushed off. In the act of taking the distance from the ground to the wall, a shot from a gingall' struck him ; he fell to the ground and never moved again ; and in half an hour his spirit was with the Lord in glory. Thus nobly died the Christian Seaman,' at the age

of 37. Many an eye unused to weep, shed tears when the news spread that the so truly loved sailor had fallen.

Canton is taken,' wrote one, “but too high a price has been paid for it in the fall of such a man as our dear Captain Bate.' “The sad event,' wrote his admiral, 'has cast a gloom over the whole force.' 'You people at home,' wrote one of his mids, 'cannot imagine how universally dear Captain Bate was loved and respected, from the admiral down to the youngest boy in the fleet.' In his pocket a little text-book all stained with blood was found.

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Two texts were strongly, and evidently newly marked. The one was: 'We know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' The other : “Through God we shall do valiantly.' Followed by many real mourners, his body was laid in the quiet graveyard of the ‘Happy Valley,' at Hong-kong ; and there all that was mortal of him rests in hope till Jesus comes to redeem the bodies of His sleeping saints. His last Sunday on shore was spent at Hong-kong; and in speaking with a friend on the uncertainty of life, and the danger to which he was sure to be exposed at Canton, he said with a smile, 'I know I am safe in the arms of my Saviour, in life or in death.'

In concluding these short sketches of a truly noble life, I cannot do better than give the estimate of his character, as drawn by a brother officer, who knew him well, and loved him dearly. "Captain Bate,' he writes, 'was the good officer, the thorough seaman, the perfect gentleman, the Christian; zealous in his profession, devoted to his country; the faithful and consistent disciple of his Saviour, whose light so shone before men, that they saw his good works, and glorified God in him.' Dear young readers, is such a life not worthy of your imitation ? And remember, you can get the same strength to resist evil, and cleave to that which is good, just where Bate got it—at the foot of the cross; and the best thing I can wish for all the little would-be sailors, who read The Children's Hour, is that they may prove as skilful and brave in their profession, and as zealous servants of the great Master, as was the gallant Christian seaman, William Thornton Bate, on the tablet on whose grave stand the lines :

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• The Christian holds no parley with unmanly fears ;
Where duty calls he confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at a call,
And trusting to his God, surmounts them all.'

M. H.

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