mms description, my mind was soon made up to go there. I went and about sunset found the place. I saw by the appear

on,

SOME years since I had the honor to be a Sabbath School missionary, and used to make mountain excursions in Vermont. One day, as evening drew on, I began to cast about for a place to stay over night. An old man told me, that, if I was a minister, he thought I should be well received at a house which I might find over yonder, pointing toward the woods.

"Who lives there?' said I.

'They are a family of the old standing order,' said he, accenting the word standing.

'Standing order?' said I.

6

'Yes,' said he; though they are very good neighbors, they are awful stiff in their way.'

'In what way?' I continued.

'Why, they wont work Sunday, let what will come. I went in there once on the Sabbath, to make a friendly call, and they all had books in their hands, and stopped reading and stared at me as if they thought I had come to do some dreadful thing. I had not been there a minute before I wished myself out of their sight. I tried to get into some conversation, but the more I tried to talk, the more embarrassed I grew. I got away as quick as I could, and I have taken care not to go there any more on Sundays. You'll like 'em, I know, and they will be glad to see you, for ministers hardly ever find them.'

From this description, my mind was soon made up to go there. I went on, and about sunset found the place. I saw by the appear

ance of the farm, the fences and the buildings, an indication of temperance, taste, and, I hoped, piety. I knocked, and a lady came to the door, who in a moment knew me, and gave my hand a hearty grasp. She had seen me a few days before at a children's meeting, in a neighboring town. As soon as I was well seated, three small girls came into the room and looked at me with a blush and a smile. The woman introduced them, and they came, one after another, beginning at the oldest, and gave me their hands. After talking a few minutes, their little boy came in, looking as if he had just been washing his face. Here, Samuel,' said the mother, 'this is the children's minister.' And he, too, walked up to me as if he had seen me before. I soon found myself at home. After a little time the mother stepped toward the kitchen, with a significant look, and all the children went gently out. I felt as if the Lord had indeed directed my way to the place. It was the more interesting, as I was assured that I was the first minister who had ever come through the woods to their house. I stepped out and found my horse unharnessed, my carriage backed under a shed, and my trunk and all nicely stowed away.

Soon the man came from his work, and night drew around us her sable curtains. As it was mid-summer, the evenings were short, and but little was said. After supper, the man took down the Bible, and immediately all the family were in their places. Said he, 'let us be composed while we read the word of God.' And, as if he had made no effort, he turned to the fifty-second chapter of Isaiah, remarking that he would read out of course that time. Then he read 'How beautiful upon the mountains, are the feet of him that bringeth glad tidings, that publisheth peace.' I knew then that I was welcome. When he had read, they all sung most sweetly the hymn

'The voice of free grace cries escape to the mountain.'

Then all falling on their knees, even the babe, he prayed, — and in his prayer he appeared very earnest that the visit of this messenger might prove a blessing to the family; and earnestly besought God's protecting care for all the lambs of Christ, scattered on the mountains, I retired, studying how I might most benefit this secluded family.

In the morning, after breakfast, again the family were all seated

for worship. The father brought me the Bible, while the mother gave me a catechism, saying, 'perhaps you will have something to say to the children.' After reading about Timothy, young Samuel, and little David, I opened the catechism and found the children as familiar with it, as if it had been their constant study.

After the dew had gone, I observed that I should like to go out and see their situation. At this, all the family started with one accord; the little boy and the girls, with father and mother. By the corner of the house there was a well, and a few rods from Almost the first thing

the door, there ran down a jolly little brook. I noticed was Samuel's pond which he had raised, and his little mill-house. As soon as we had got along near enough, his mother told Samuel he might start the mill. As soon as he hoisted the gate, round went a little wheel and a trip hammer was in rapid motion. Beside the brook, the little girls also had their play houses. I examined their shelves and their rows of crockery. I saw in each of their houses a pile of leaves which they had gathered from the forest. I asked what they were for, and they said it was a bed for Dolly. One of their houses they called their school-house. In this they all sat down, every day, the Sabbath excepted, and read and spelled, and recited.

There was

All round about the farm there was a dense forest. one little bird which I never saw only in the forest, who would stand on the topmost twig of the highest tree, and sing, looking upward as if he saw something beyond the stars, which drew away his whole heart. Little Ala said, 'that is my bird.'

'Why,' said I, 'do you call it yours?'

'Because it praises God so sweetly,' she replied.

When the father and mother noticed that I wished to see the children alone, they were informed that they might go with me. So I went wherever they led. They showed me their bird's nests, and I saw their tame rabbits, and where the partridge stood to drum.

In our ramble they took me to a high peak of a hill, and pointed out to me the 'White Hills,' and the long range of lofty mountains in New Hampshire. There we all sat down, and I talked to them of the works of God, and of the wonderful events recorded in Scripture, which transpired on a mountain. I told them of Isaac on Mount Moriah; of Mount Sinai; of Moses on Nebo; of the transfiguration on a mountain; and of the crucifixion on Calvary.