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lar in truth it was, but every thing was in order. Endeavours too had been made to give it a look of home comfort. The window with its paperpatched panes had a calico blind. The table against the wall was dressed up with yellow jugs and cups and saucers; and band-boxes, no doubt containing bonnets and shawls, with nice little articles for Sundays and holidays, were ranged on the flat top of the bedstead. The chairs, old though they were, had evidently been bought at a sale, and, being good mahogany, had doubtless pertained to a very different abode: they had sound backs and seats, and were free from dust. These people, like the inhabitants of the front room-the widow, with her son and two daughters-were striving and industrious persons. They knew right from wrong, and acted according to what they knew; and it was interesting to consider how much of home-comfort might be enjoyed when united with right feeling and perseverance in good conduct.

Widely different were the homes of many others. Some too there were, whose occupants, it may be feared, had stifled the whisper of conscience. Yet, even in such, as visitors report, there was often something to admire: words of thankfulness were heard, and much natural affection shown in seasons of especial sorrow.

The following affecting sketch will bring before the mental view a family of the poorest description, among the nomad tribes of whom I speak. A slanting roof, partly stripped of its tiles, covered their abode. More than one-half of the small leaden-framed squares of the window were patched with brown paper, peeping out, and crackling in the wind others had ball-shaped bundles of rags, to keep out the cold. Such of the panes as remained unbroken were of all shapes and sizes: at a short distance they looked like yellow glass, and were, moreover, stained and dirty. The street, or rather alley, to which the visitor was directed, turned into a considerable thoroughfare; and the door that led to the comfortless abode, with its cracked and rag-stuffed panes and dirtbegrimed glass, had a number chalked upon it. A tottering staircase appeared immediately in front, and, on entering the miserable room, which opened immediately upon the staircase, scarcely could the visitor bear the smoke that came pouring from the chimney into the room. The place was filled with it, and it rendered every object so indistinct that it was difficult to see the mugs that were ranged in the corner cupboard, though not three yards distant. When the wind was in the north, or when it rained, the room was filled with smoke; "but, otherwise," said an aged dame, with long grizzly hair spreading over her black shawl, "it is pretty good for that."

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darkest and most desolate abode, brought the poor girl home. A little straw, stuffed into an old tick, was all she had to lie on; and even that had been given up to her by the mother, until she should be well enough to work again. A cloak had been fastened up slantingly across the window, to shield the poor creature from the wind; and on a string that ran along the wall was tied, among the bonnets, a clean night-cap, "against the doctor came," as the mother, curtseying, informed the visitor. By the side of the bed, almost hidden in the dark shade, was a pile of sieve- baskets, crowned by the flat shallow, that the mother worked with.

The room was about nine feet square, and furnished a home for three hard-working women. The ceiling slanted, like that of a garret: in colour it resembled a piece of old leather, excepting a few rough white patches, where the tenants had rudely mended it. Light might be seen through the laths; and in one corner a large piece of the paper looped down (from the wall. "We never want rain-water," said the mother; for we can catch plenty just over the chimney. place."

A kind of carpet, made out of two or three old mats, covered the floor. They were "obligated to it, for fear of dropping any thing through the boards into the donkey-stables underneath". "But we only pay ninepence a week for rent," said the old woman," and mustn't grumble."

One only ornament graced the mantel-piecean old earthenware sugar-basin, well silvered over. And how many associations were con nected with that old sugar-basin! What melancholy remembrances rested on it!-thoughts of playful infancy; of a strong, willing girl; of a stout young man, perhaps, who wiled her from beneath a mother's care; of failing health, and a sad coming back to die. The poor girl, when sinking fast, gave that basin to her mother, who carefully placed it on the mantel-piece; and there it had stood ever since, duly dusted, and looked upon with many a tearful eye. Two cracked tea-cups on their inverted saucers were stationed on each side, and gave to the fire-place something like tidiness. The chair on which the visitor sat was by far the best out of the three in the room; and that was backless, with only half its quantity of straw for stuffing.

The parish allowed the poor old woman one shilling weekly, and two loaves. "But the doctor orders the sick girl sago and milk," she said; "and many a time I'm sore puzzled to get it. Neighbours help as well as they can, and often sends unsold greens, may-be only the outer leaves of the cabbages, and we be thankful. Tother girl does all she can, and so we live on. Long as we can A pale-faced girl, eighteen years old-"eighteen keep out of the big house (the workhouse) we years old last twelfth-cake day," said the mother-don't complain." The sight was an affecting one. lay on a mattress on the floor, her drawn-up form On the straw mattress lay a poor, pale, suffering showing under the patchwork counterpane laid girl, with little to sustain her, yet meek and pa over her. Poor thing! she had been confined; tient her sister, a big-boned girl, with a red cast off, most probably, by her companion, as not shawl crossed over her bosom, and black hair unfrequently occurs; and her child had died. The parted on one side, had just come in; and there workhouse commonly receives young women when was the mother, old and weather-beaten, yet with thus circumstanced, and the lad "takes 'em a bit all a mother's love and care. of tea and sugar, if he has any heart left"; but in the present instance the poor mother of the girl, with a mother's love, shining bright even in the

"Never," said the visitor, "did I behold so much destitution borne with so much content. Verily, the resignation of the poor is a thing to

make those who write and preach about it hide | Jews and Irish; they be willing to earn a their heads."

penny." This regard for the sabbath does not result from religious feeling; far from it: they like a holiday, and go off to their favourite haunts, in full Sunday suits, which consist of rough beaver hats, brown Petersham, with velvet stripes down the sides. The best among them take their wives and children; on which occasions the women are attired in cotton gowns of bright showy patterns, and smart best shawls. "Costers likes to see their wives look lady-like when they takes them out." Those, on the contrary, who are not in a flourishing way of business, seldom make any alteration in their dresses on a Sunday. Till within a comparatively recent period there were only four tailors in London who made the peculiar garb worn by these singular people. Recently, however, a fifth has set up business; but, with regard to him, it is asserted that none of the most respectable costermongers deal with him, on account of his employing women at reduced wages. Nor is it unworthy of remark, that a whole court of the nomad race would withdraw their custom from a tradesman, if assured by some one of influence among them that he was unjust to his work-people.

The nomadic races are characterized by a certain peculiarity of dress, which readily distinguishes them. A costermonger's every-day costume is both strong and durable. He usually wears a small cloth cap, a little on one side; or a close-facings of the same colour, and cloth trousers with fitting worsted cap is much approved of, with ringlets on the temple. Hats are never worn, except on Sunday; coats seldom. The waistcoats are of a broad-ribbed corduroy, with fustian back and sleeves, and buttoned up nearly to the throat. If the corduroy be of a light sandy colour, it is adorned with brass buttons, either plain or with raised fox or stags' heads upon them, or black bone buttons, flower-patterned; but, if the cord is of a dark rat-skin hue, then mother-of-pearl buttons are preferred. Two large pockets-sometimes four-with huge flaps or lappels, like those in a shooting-coat, are commonly worn. The most admired stuff for trousers at the present is a dark-coloured cable cord," made to fit tightly at the knee, and swelling gradually until they reach the boot, which they nearly cover. Those who deal wholly in fish wear blue serge aprons, either hanging down or tucked up round their waists. The costermonger, however, prides himself most of all upon his handkerchief and boots. Men and women, boys and girls, all have a pas-munity whose peculiar habits and neglected consion for these articles; and so far is this predilection carried, that the man who does not wear his silk handkerchief is known to be in desperate circumstances, the inference being that it has gone to supply the morning stock. Women wear their kerchief tucked in under their gowns, and the men have theirs wrapped loosely round the neck, with the ends hanging over their waistcoats; and so great is their predilection for this ornamental portion of their dress that, if a costermonger has even two or three silk handkerchiefs by him already, he seldom hesitates to buy another, when a bright showy one hangs from a door-post.

The love of a good strong boot pervades the whole community, from the father to the youngest child. All are well shod; and so strong is their feeling in this respect, that a costermonger may be known by a glance at his boots; and to wear a pair of second-hand ones would be regarded as a bitter degradation. Among the men this peculiarity has risen to such a height that very many have the upper leathers tastily ornamented; and it is not uncommon to see the younger men of this class with a heart or thistle, surrounded by a wreath of roses, worked below the instep, on their boots. The general costume of the women or girls is a black velveteen or straw bonnet, with a few ribbons or flowers, and almost always a net cap, fitting closely to the cheek. The gaily-coloured handkerchief which covers the shoulders is sometimes tucked into the neck of the printed cotton gown, as already mentioned; and sometimes the ends are brought down outside to the apronstrings. Silk gowns are never worn, even on the most holiday time: costermonger women rather despise such articles. Their petticoats are somewhat short, ending at the ankles, just high enough to show the whole of the much-admired boots.

The costermonger will never wheel a barrow on a Sunday if it can possibly be avoided: "We leave such doings," said one of them, "to the

Such are facts concerning a class of the com

dition have been, till recently, unknown. We
owe considerable information to the author of
"London Labour and London Poor." The
subject-matter of much in the previous pages has
been derived from him; and is presented to the
public with a fervent hope that nomadic races in
the great metropolis will no longer remain un-
noticed by the Christian philanthropist. Many a
passer-by, with her basket of oranges or ropes of
onions, her water-cresses, or such wares as women
mostly deal in, followed perhaps by two or three
unloveable-looking children, each one having
something to dispose of, earnestly desires for them
a better state of things. She knows but little,
nothing perchance, of those glorious truths which
are to us even as household words; but the little
which she knows is often carefully imparted to the
young ones during a respite from labour.

Who can read without feelings of deep interest the following simple statement by a poor Irish widow, who sold onions about the streets?

"Yes, indeed, he died (her husband), the beavens be his bed; and he was prepared by father M. We had our trials together; but sore's been the cross and heavy the burden since its pleased God to call him. Then there's the two childer, Biddy and Ned. They'll be ten and they'll be eight come their next burreth-day, plase the Lord. They can help me now, they can. I can read a little myself, and I gets them a bit o' larning now and then, when I can, of an evening mostly. I sells to the tradesmen and lodgers in Tottenham Court-road, and other parts; for we travel a dale. We follows one another."

The Cabinet.

FRUITS OF THANKFULNESS TO GOD.-Blessed, thrice blessed, is religious gratitude. One favour thankfully received is usually the forerunner of a

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"Enquire, I pray thee, at the word of the Lord to-day." (1st lesson for evening service) 1 KINGS Xxii. 5.

'Tis pleasant to ask the advice

Of a wise and affectionate friend, To guide us aright on our way,

As thro' the world's lab'rinth we wend.

But the wisest and kindest may err;
And many, alas! have misled :

So Ahab was counselled by those
Whose advice brought his feet to the dead.

But there's an infallible word,

Whose author is Infinite Truth:

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"Tis a word which will comfort our age,

And smoothe the last steps to the grave; For it points to a "God near at hand," And One who "is mighty to save."

O who would not seek to this Guide, 'Mid the doubts we so oft have deplored? Who would not, when trials perplex,

"Enquire at the word of the Lord"? "Tis the wisdom that comes from above, That must lead us poor pilgrims below: None other the heart can instruct,

And teach us the way we should go.

Lord Jesus, thyself art "the way :"

As the truth thou art ever adored :

I will seek thee whenever I stray,

And "enquire at the word of the Lord."



I HAVE seen thee, lady, in thine Eden bower, Sweet fairy-ground, like earthly paradise, Where grot, and labyrinth, and rare device, And odorous plant, and gorgeous-painted flower, The sense delighted, and enchained the eyes, As if arrested by enchanter's power.

Or, when the wondering gaze might haply stray; Again 'twas tranced by glorious goodly show, Where ocean's mighty waters heaved below, And in the vast expanse of spacious bay

An anchored fleet, all stilly peaceful nowFair England's strength and glory—proudly lay*. Yet midst these scenes that tranquillized the breast, And bound the passions by their pure control, Soothing with balmy influence the soul, And steeping it in thoughts sublimely chaste, One painful feeling did thy mind enthral, Disturbing this thy lovely place of rest; For, as the royal bard, by trials driven

Far off, the temple's courts no longer trode, Yet longed to view that sacred blest abode, And share the joys to church of Israel given; E'en thus, at distance from the house of God, Thou pinest for the choicest gift of heaven. And thou art sometimes wont to adopt his tone,

As when this plaintive wail he raised on high, "My heart and flesh for the living God do cry"And feel its mournful meaning all thine own. Then droops thy soul in sad despondency, As if by him deserted and alone. Yet cheer thee, lady: he that dwells on high, In temple of no earthly mould, the heart Can truly read, and will his grace impart, To prayer of faith-will hear the suppliant cry, And, tho' shut out, and from his courts apart, Will to each chosen one be ever nigh, To cheer the soul and every want supply.

Martin Rectory.

J. B. S.

* The Downs, where a great number of vessels were riding at anchor.

London: Published for the Proprietors, by JOHN HUGHES, 12, Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.


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(Running Footmen.)

WE find many passages of scripture referring to the practice, very usual in the east, of training servants to run by the side of their masters' chariots or horses. Thus Samuel, describing to the Israelites the way in which a king would treat them, says, "He will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and some shall run before his chariots" (1 Sam. viii. 11). Again, Jeremiah asks, "If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses?" (Jer. xii. 5). Still further, we read that Elijah did not disdain, after the miracle at Carmel, to run before Ahab to his residence: "And the hand of the Lord was on Elijah; and he girded up his loins, and ran before Ahab to the entrance of Jezreel" (1 Kings xviii. 46).

"In Persia it is to this day," says Dr. Kitto, "a piece of state for the king and other great personages to have several men run on foot before and beside them, as they ride on horseback. This they do even when the rider puts his horse to a gallop. The men are trained to their business from boyhood; and the feats they are able to per

No. 959.

form would scarcely be considered credible in this country. They are called shatirs. Chardin mentions a candidate for the place of shatir to the king, who accomplished about 120 miles by fourteen hours' unremitted running, and who was rather censured for not having done it in twelve hours. Chardin himself followed him on horseback in his seventh course; when the heat of the day had obliged him somewhat to relax his pace; and the traveller could only follow him by keeping his horse on the gallop. No instance equal to this came to our knowledge in the same country; but what we did see and learn rendered the statement of Chardin far from incredible. It is astonishing to observe the extreme ease with which the men appear to attend their master's horse in all its paces, even the most rapid; and, as a general rule, it is understood that an accomplished footman ought to remain untired as long or longer than the horse ridden by his master" (Pictorial Bible).

These runners are very tightly girded, sometimes so much so that they cannot stoop without danger to their life. Near Ispahan is a pillar, said to commemorate the death of one who sacrificed his life to his duty, by stooping to pick up a

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ring which the king, while he was running, let | unjust, that he might bring us to God" (1 Pet. fall on purpose to ensure his destruction.



Honorary Canon of Bristol Cathedral, and Rector of St. Werburgh's, Bristol.


HE is so called because he has been made a mem-
ber of the outward and visible church of Christ
by baptism, wherein he was solemnly dedicated
by his parents to the service of God, under
a "promise and vow," the imperative obligation
of which they were bound to impress upon the
youthful mind, that he should renounce the
devil and all his works, the pomps and vanity
of this wicked world, and all the sinful lusts of
the flesh," so as "not to follow nor be led by
them;" that he should "believe all the articles of
the Christian faith," and that he should "keep
God's holy will and commandments, and walk in
the same all the days of his life." It is in conse-
quence of his having been admitted into the visible
church of Christ by baptism that he is called a
Christian. But, as baptism is said to consist of two
parts, "the outward visible sign, and the inward
spiritual grace," the reception of the latter of
which is manifested by "a death unto sin, and a
new birth unto righteousness," a life of obe-
dience to the commandments of God, the effect of
"repentance whereby we forsake sin, and faith,
whereby we stedfastly believe the promises of
God made to us in that sacrament," it is evident
that those only who partake of "the inward and
spiritual grace" are Christians in reality, who will
enjoy all the benefits which Christianity was de-
signed to convey to the sinful children of men.
Others, notwithstanding they may bear the name
of Christians, on account of having been made
partakers of "the outward and visible sign or
form in baptism," will be left destitute of the
blessing. It is important, then, to inquire, What
it is to be a Christian indeed? The true Chris-
tian, according to the holy scriptures, is one who
is "reconciled to God by the death of his Son"
(Rom. v. 10), and accounted a "child of God by
faith in Christ Jesus" (Gal. iii. 26); " of whom
his whole family in heaven and earth is named"
(Ephes. iii. 15). He is "reconciled to God; be-
cause God was in" or through "Christ recon-
ciling the world unto himself, not imputing their
trespasses unto them, on account of having made
him who knew no sin to be sin for us" (or "an
offering and a sacrifice for our sins") (Ephes. v.
2); that we might be made the righteousness
of God in him" (2 Cor. v. 19, 21), or be accounted
perfectly righteous in his sight; without which
we cannot be admitted into his most holy pre-
sence, who is "of purer eyes than to behold evil,
ard cannot look on iniquity" (Hab. i. 13). Man,
as a sinner, a transgressor of the holy, just, and
good law of God, is at enmity with God, an
"enemy in his mind," which he manifests himself
to be by wicked works" (Col. i. 21). This
enmity was slain (Ephes. ii. 16) or removed, by the
death of Christ on the cross, as a sacrifice for
sin; by his "suffering for sins, the Just for the

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iii. 19). On this account God can be "just, and
the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus"
(Rom. iii. 26). To the transgressor of the law of
God, who is convinced in his own conscience of
the evil and danger of sin, and desires to turn
from it, in order that he may be truly a servant
of God, "the word of the truth of the gospel"
(Col, i, 5) proclaims "forgiveness of sins" through
faith in Christ Jesus, "the Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world" (John i. 29),
"the propitiation for our sins" (1 John iv. 10);
and declares that, for the sake of "the sacrifice
of the death of Christ," the Father of heaven
will be merciful to" his " unrighteousness,
and will remember no more his sins" and his "ini-
quities" (Heb. viii. 12), but will "cast" them
"all into the depths of the sea" (Micah vii. 19),
no more to be brought forward against him.
"To him give all the prophets witness, that through
his name whosoever believeth in him shall receive
remission of sins" (Acts x. 43).

This is the first point of Christian doctrine with which sinful man needs to be made acquaintedthat "forgiveness of sins" (Acts xiii. 38) is to be obtained through believing in the Lord Jesus Christ, "who gave himself a ransom for all" (1 Tim. ii. 6), and "was slain to redeem us to God by his blood" (Rev. v. 9), because "without shedding of blood is no remission" (Heb. x. 22), This primary doctrine of Christianity was directed by our Lord Jesus Christ to be ever kept in memory by his disciples. For which purpose he was pleased to institute the sacred ordinance of the Lord's supper, "for the continual remembrance of the sacrifice of the death of Christ, and of the benefits which we receive thereby." Respecting this holy ordinance, his apostle said to believers, "As often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show [or declare] the Lord's death till he come" (1 Cor. xi. 26) to be the ground of your hope for obtaining pardoning mercy.

But we know that a pardoned criminal is not received into the king's favour merely because mercy has been extended to him, or he has not suf fered the extreme penalty of the law, which had been incurred by his transgression the holy scriptures therefore declare, further, that all who receive pardoning mercy through Christ are also, in order to their acceptance in the divine presence, "made the righteousness of God in him" (2 Cor. v. 21). They are accounted righteous before God for the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ by faith" (Art. xi.), because, as it is said, "By the obedience of one shall many be made righteous" (Rom. v. 19). Christ's perfect obedience to the law of God in human nature is imputed to, or placed to the account of, those who put their trust in him as "the Lord our Righteousness" (Jer. xxiii. 6) for their justification before God. "The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness' sake," because "he magnified the law and made it honoura ble" (Isa. xlii. 21) by his perfect, complete, undeviating obedience to all its demands and requirements; and he graciously accepts all pardoned sinners that plead the merit of his be loved Son, who "is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth" (Rom. x. 4), in order to their justification before him; so that, "being justified by faith, they have peace

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