than by reasoning; and the process which awakens in an infant's mind a susceptibility of the kind and tender affections, is the discipline by which the man may be led to all things lovely and of good report; by which he may be taught to find his real happiness in his bounden duty, and do with all the independence of a free yet willing agent, all that the law of God requires to be done.

But we must bear in mind, while endeavouring to awaken feelings of affection in the infant, that the chief value of love consists in this, that the being who loves is withdrawn from self, and is led to seek and to find his happiness in others. Let us take care that this be the real effects of Early Education, and instead of being satisfied with appearances which promise the existence of this feeling, let us see that it is that love which is pure and disinterested. All judging parents feel the value of affection; see the importance of drawing the tendernesses of a child's heart towards themselves, and of establishing the claim of nature by early associations; but if they are not prudent or scrupulous as to the means which they employ, they often raise up a rival to themselves, and defeat their own purpose by the measures they take for its accomplishment. They see, for instance, that the affections are fickle and wavering; and they think that there are means by which they may be secured. They think that love may be purchased, and they are willing to bid high for that which they are desirous to get. They see that the infant is chiefly susceptible of animal gratifications, and they try to win the affections through the medium of the sensual nature. They endeavour to establish their claim on the noblest feelings, by gratifying and indulging the basest; to create an angel's mind by turning the child into an animal; and thus they make the sensual infant still more sensual, by the unthinking manner in which they endeavour to appropriate to themselves its regards. We admit that an infant must be sensual; and it would be an inversion of nature to attempt a treatment which should be framed in neglect of this. We must also feel that a sensual nature left to itself will grow more sensual; or if stimulated by sensuality may become altogether such. But we cannot allow that the infant should be considered thus, or managed in such a manner as to become so. There are seeds of a higher nature lodged within the child: and if those seeds be not overwhelmed by erroneous cultivation, they may be cherished into life, and assume the distinction which is their due; but the work of early education is unhappily in general entrusted to those who are too ignorant to perceive, or too impatient to consider the difference in question.

The unthinking parent seeks to secure the affections of the infant, and is willing to secure them by any means. The appetites are, therefore, suborned in order to win the heart. The evil of our nature is excited in order to produce good; and the child is made sensual in the attempt to render it affectionate and we see that in pursuing this process, parents are raising up a formidable rival to themselves, and are increasing, during infancy, the power of an enemy, which it will be the work of a life to bring down and to subdue. In other words, in trying to excite love, they awaken self-love; and by the indiscriminating, unreflecting way in which they try to win the child's affections, they flatter the child into sensuality, covetousness, capriciousness; till they mar the very feelings which they are desiring to mould to their own purpose. In truth, if any calm considerate spectator were to watch the process pursued in almost every nursery, he must come to the conclusion that the treatment was intended to strengthen all the sensual propensities of the child, and to make it, as far as was possible, a discontented, fastidious and selfish being. And yet if the object of Education be to train up a child in the way that he should go, these are the habits that ought to be overcome; and the contrary habits of temperance, calmness, and submission to privations, are the habits that ought to be cultivated. That these are the qualities which give dignity to men's character, and happiness to men's life, no one will deny ; but if this be so, how can we justify the conduct of those who neglect the opportunity of impressing these tempers on the man, when the man is most capable of receiving them; and who on the contrary cherish habits which are essentially opposed to them; thus purchasing some display of animal attachment in a child by making selfishness and sensuality the prevailing features in the future character of the man.

I feel that I am not speaking with more severity than facts justify, if I say that this must be the effect produced by a large amount of the early education given; and if selfishness forms the character of man, if covetousness and self indulgence prevail in the world, we have only to look back at the manner in which the two first years of man's life are passed, in order to have the wonder explained.

Another, and an equally common error in early education, consists in the manner in which the infant's mind is subjected to excitement. The biographer of Bishop Horne thinks it worth while to mention, that the father of the Bishop, a wise and good man, was so convinced of the importance of avoiding every sudden shock to the nervous system, that he would never allow his child to be called in the usual manner; but

used to come himself to the chamber where the child slept, and wake him by a few soft notes breathed on the flute. The placid temper and cheerful spirit of the Bishop is ascribed in some degree to this peculiar treatment; and we can easily suppose that the mind of a child thus awakened from sleep would rise up to its operations in a calmer frame, than if it had been violently roused by a sudden call, which shook the nervous system by its abruptness, and left it vibrating and tremulous. Whether the treatment was the cause of the peculiar temperament in the mind thus treated, it is not necessary to prove. I quote the anecdote simply to shew the caution and tenderness with which an infant's mind should be handled. At that tender age the eye can hardly bear the light. The skin feels the impulse of every breath that blows upon it. What must be the state of the infant's mind, if these its gross substantial wrappings, which are hereafter to bear the buffeting of the elements, are so exquisitely susceptible! We cannot doubt that the same tenderness which is used in touching the material part, must be used towards that finer and more delicate part which exists within; and that all excitements should be withheld, or administered very cautiously.

It is perhaps hardly necessary for me to say to your readers, that harshness of language and noise are to be deprecated; though there can be no reason to doubt that much injury actually is produced by these causes. Those who have any acquaintance with the lower classes in this country, know full well that the cases are frequent where the intellect of children has suffered material and permanent injury from the violent manners of brutal parents; and if we consider the delicate texture of an infant's mind, and the treatment to which it must be continually exposed, we can only wonder at the mercy which averts the consequence that might be so reasonably apprehended. But the same error prevails under very different circumstances. The fondness of some parents does harm, just as the harshness of others does; and excitement is injurious to the infant whether it be the excitement of terror or of delight. Around the infant every thing should be mild and soft and gradual. The mind at that tender age is as incapable of standing the tumult of high wrought affection, as it is of supporting the shock of noise and riot; and it shrinks from the violence of love as much as it does from the violence of hatred.

The affection therefore which is directed towards an infant should be regulated by knowledge of the nature of the infant's mind, and should be mild and gentle in its expressions. Excitement should be administered with caution, and never

should be violent or abrupt. Toys of every sort are to be deprecated on this account during infancy. They exhaust the mind where they excite attention. They render it fastidious and capricious where they do not. They are open also to a more serious objection, from the effect which they produce on the general character of the mind. They withdraw the affections from the being who ought to be loved, and fix them on the thing which ought not. They begin a spirit of idolatry, which may be displayed in other more prominent forms hereafter; for they teach the child to fix its happiness not on the parent's love, who gives, but on the possession of the thing which is given, and thus prepare the man to rest on the creature in exclusion of the claims of the Creator.

I can only say on this point as I said before, if Education be intended to train up a child in the way in which he ought to go; if it be essential to man's welfare that he should carry to the world's concerns a mind exempt from that covetousness which overrates their value, and imagines that they can give happiness to their possessor; if it be essential to his religious consistency to fix his affections on things above, not on things on the earth; to walk by faith, not by sight. If this be so, and that it is so will not be disputed; then I think that we act wrongly by stimulating the seeds of covetousness, of love of pleasure, and of caprice, in our infant's minds; and that a reasonable anxiety to promote the welfare of the child, as well as to secure the purity of its attachment, will withhold us from that indiscriminate fondness which does evil with the best intentions, and tries to win an infant's love by making the infant selfish and fastidious. Your's truly,

"AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT."

H. R.

Ir is the gracious promise of our heavenly Father, that "His Word shall not return to Him void, but that it shall accomplish that whereunto it is sent:" and though it may often happen that to the minister of His will, the effect of the work which he is commissioned to do, is unknown, still some portion of the seed which he sows, will find its way into the heart, where it is ordained to spring up, and to bring forth fruit an hundred fold to the glory of God.

I can answer for the truth of the following short but affecting statement, for I received it from the lips of my highly valued friend the Rev. Mr. S himself, who said, as he related the circumstance, " this may find a place in your Christian Beacon." Some years ago, during the time of his ministry in London, at P Chapel, he was accustomed to

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visit Middlesex Hospital in his ministerial capacity. He was, on one occasion, reading the Scriptures to a number of poor sick women, all of them confined to their beds, but one of them more peculiarly the object of their attention, as her case was in a double sense the most hopeless. The passage of Scripture which he was reading, was the Parable of the Ten Virgins. He was dwelling upon that part of the subject where the five foolish virgins wake up in dismay to a sense of their deep and awful infatuation, when one cry escapes from their lips, the very expression of consternation and anguish; our lamps are gone out."-As he came to those fearful words, "and the door was shut"-at that very moment, while the words were proceeding from his lips, the nurse who was in attendance, exclaimed" she is gone!"-Yes, the last breath of mortal life went forth from that apparently careless and unconcerned being, even while the announcement of the minister recorded, from God's own solemn word, the state of those who have put off, till the time is gone for ever, their preparation for the coming of the Lord,-who come to the door when the door is shut, and after refusing the gracious invitation during the whole course of their life, find the season of grace gone by, and themselves shut out for ever! So deeply was the minister of Christ occupied with the subject before him, and the state of the still living hearers who surrounded him, that for a short time, he continued to read on, and to address to them the warnings and the intreaties of his high commission.

Some months after the above circumstance had occurred, Mr. S received a message from a poor sick woman, whose name was quite unknown to him, but who earnestly besought him to come and see her before she died. He found in an obscure and distant quarter of London, in a miserable hovel, a woman at the point of death. He had no recollection of her features, and could not imagine in what manner he had been known to her. She told him that she had sent for him because she felt that it was right that a minister of Christ should know for his encouragement that the Word of God, and the Gospel message which he delivers will often be received where he little suspects it to have fallen. She had been, she said, a patient in Middlesex Hospital, and the occupier of the very next bed to the one in which a wretched woman had expired, when he was reading and expounding to them the parable of the wise and the foolish Virgins. Her eyes had been fixed upon the face of the dying woman, and she had seen her die just as the words, " and the door was shut!" sounded in her Own ears. She had been dreadfully shocked, but it seems that the spirit in which she had received this awful announcement,