initiative in all matters that affect the large and busy family to which I belong.

me.

I believe I have friends the wide world over, though many of them in this country think me too cold, and by those who knew me in my younger days, I was sometimes represented as double-faced. In the latter charge there was no doubt a great deal of truth, for I always looked on others as they looked on For those who listened to my teachings or welcomed my coming with hopeful faces and earnest promises, I had smiles enough, whilst I turned a stern and reproachful face on those who having frequently slighted me, gave me no encouragement to hope for better things. On the whole, however, my coming was "of an interest too wide to be pretermitted by king or cobbler," and I was said to be never regarded with indifference.

But the interest excited by my visits, it must be allowed, was too often inoperative. Of glad faces, and apparently light hearts and conventional courtesies, I have seen a great deal, though truth compels me to the conclusion that they seldom meant much, and I do not believe I was generally so welcome as appearances would lead me to suppose.

In no place did I receive greater shew of homage than in royal courts some centuries ago, and I could tell you tales of bluff Harry, and "good Queen Bess," that would make you wonder. Scarcely ever did I pay a visit to the latter, without finding peers and peeresses, bishops and officers of state, pouring out their costliest treasures at her feet. Even the proverbially "poor apothecary" of her household, the cook, the "sergeant of the pastry," and all whom in any way she had delighted to honor, took advantage of my visit to the presence chamber, and brought of their abundance or their poverty. Her very "dustman" once presented the queen, in my sight, with "two bolts of cambrick;" and all the splendid gowns, and furbelows, and lace-ruffs, and chains of gold and pearls, with which we see her high and mighty majesty bedizened in our old prints, were wrung out of her subjects under color of a custom, to which I was unwillingly a party, that had little meaning, and less heart. I remember that honest old Latimer once broke through this routine of unneeded and listless offerings with her royal predecessor, and instead of a purse of gold, presented Henry VIII. with

a New Testament. I saw that he had turned down a leaf in such a way as to point its message to the king; and I fancied his flushed face burned with a deeper shame, as he read the fearful passage.

Things have greatly changed since then, and I cannot help thinking, for the better. Those might have been fine times when the people lived for their sovereigns, but I think we have no reason to complain that the sovereign now lives for the people.

I am old, as I said before, and naturally given to gossiping, and though my object was to have written only such a letter as might have been useful to your readers, I fear I am forgetting the profitable in the amusing.

Well then, instead of going back to the days of Henry VIII., let me tell you something about yourself and your readers. Six and forty years ago I saw your Magazine, then but a few months old, and have many pleasing remembrances connected with it. I know how it was read; I know how it was valued; and I know how it was blessed. Year after year brought me into contact with the young people for whom it was more especially intended, and I had thus every means of knowing how its cautions, its counsels, and its narratives performed their various missions.

The youth of that day were different from what they are now. With less activity of thought and intellect, they had more of the simple and docile character which now belongs to children; and the lessons I brought before them were received in much love. Evangelical literature was precious in those days; and though year after year I have brought them fresher, more thoughtful, and more seasonable lessons, I always found them dwelling with delight on my earlier teachings. Line upon line, line upon line, precept upon precept, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little, was the rule I followed: and when I looked back over a long series of interviews, I found the seed thus sown, from time to time, had sprung up and grown I know not how.

And now, after the lapse of nearly half a century, I am again confronting your readers. I know what they have been; I know what they are; and my multiform experience enables

me to predict with considerable certainty what they will probably be hereafter. "All things are in progression." Time has pushed the Child into the Youth, and in another generation we shall have him anticipating the Man. All this is as it should be, if we can only act out the inspired caution,-" In malice be ye children, but in understanding be men." But I fear this is not often the case. Precocity in self-esteem keeps pace unfortunately with the march of intellect, and the weightier matters of gentleness and humility are not unfrequently neglected for the knowledge which puffeth up.

And what is true of society generally holds good of individual life. I meet with many who, but a few years since, were teachable and hopeful, earnestly desirous of knowledge, and careful to use it in the chastening and discipline of the heart— entering as little children upon the ever-new and beautiful, and omniform lessons of their Master's kingdom, who are now self-elated and supercilious, impatient even of the easy yoke they loved before, and only waiting the summons of their headstrong associates to sit down with the indocile and the scorner.

This is my great fear in the present age; and I intend to watch over it with extreme jealousy. But all my vigilance will avail very little unless your readers learn to watch for themselves. I have little doubt, that on my next visit I shall find they have grown in knowledge: the age will not let them stand still. But I am not so sure that they will be really wiser. Knowledge without love will not edify. To be teachable is a higher praise than to be learned; and I have seen so many, from year to year, grow out of this docile spirit, that I cannot help dreading to see them do so. Let them "give attendance to reading :" it is at once the food and medicine of the mind; but let it have its entire work—not only in "building up a force of mind,” but in maturing all the graces of the spirit. Let it be wrought into the whole mental and moral system, that when I come again I may see unequivocal signs of improvement in every sense, and find the metal of the mind gradually maturing for delivery into the mould of the Gospel.

I know, Mr, Editor, you will aid me in this work. Looking at the great end of authorship, I am obliged to be more severe and scrutinizing than may, perhaps, be thought necessary by

your readers; but my warrant will be found in one golden sentence, with which I must conclude, "The end of the commandment is Charity out of a pure heart and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned; from which some having swerved, have turned aside unto vain jangling, desiring to be teachers." I am, Mr. Editor, very faithfully yours,

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

A VOICE FROM THE DEAD.

THE following letter on a subject of deep interest to the Young, was penned some years since by the late beloved and lamented Rev. J. J. Freeman.

The note which introduces it, addressed to our respected treasurer, W. B. Gurney, Esq., sufficiently explains the reason of its introduction to our pages; and earnestly joining in the hope so well expressed, that it may prove of saving benefit to our dear charge, we commend it affectionately to their prayerful perusal.-ED.

MY DEAR SIR,

Walthamstow, Nov. 21st, 1851.

The accompanying letter was addressed by our late beloved friend, the Rev. J. J. Freeman, to his spiritual children, now in the Mission School, an Institution, which his energy greatly helped to establish, and which he watched over with affectionate interest so long as he lived. Although all of those to whom the letter was originally addressed have left the school, and are variously engaged, some in this country and more abroad, it seemed to me that a voice from the dead, from one they so loved, might, by the blessing of God deepen former impressions, and stimulate to renewed dedication of themselves to his service.

In this hope I have had a few printed, intending to send one to each of the dear girls who had made a public profession before the church, and delightful it is to find in going through the names of those who have left, so many to whom we can address the letter in the full confidence of its grateful appreciation.

It has been thought, however, that we should not confine the good such a letter may do, to the Mission School, but afford it. a wider circulation through the pages of the useful and interesting periodical with which you have been so long and usefully connected, the Youths' Magazine. If this be your opinion, it is at your service to do with it as you think proper. The great object for which our beloved friend lived, was to glorify God. The young were the objects of his especial love, and if one young heart be led, through the perusal of this letter, to an early dedication of itself to God, we may, I think, believe that even now the knowledge of this will raise, to still higher tones, the notes of grateful love which are struck from the harps of the redeemed. Believe me, Dear Sir,

W. B. Gurney, Esq.

Very respectfully yours,

D. F.

LETTER FROM THE LATE REV. J. J. FREEMAN.

Sunday, October 2, 1842.

At Sea, about 200 miles within the Tropic of Cancer,
on the way to Barbadoes.

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,

Letter writing is by no means my usual occupation on a Sunday, and as a general rule I certainly think it better to do nothing of the sort. But on the present occasion my circumstances may justify it. I have no opportunity of preaching, I am here in my cabin-alone-and, as you may imagine, thinking of Walthamstow, the congregation at Marsh Street, and the services held there this morning. Many of you have been sitting at the table of the Lord, and there renewing your vows of dedication to the service of the Redeemer.

To those of you who have been thus engaged I shall principally address my letter, and you will kindly receive it, I trust, as an affectionate though brief pastoral address. It is with me a cause of great thankfulness towards God, that he has led you to desire to be among his people, and that he has produced so strong a conviction in your minds, that there is no happiness to be compared with that which is found in his