The impression made upon Ann's mind. meet the great God of heaven? Have you given your hearts to Christ? How sad it would be, if you should be called away in the midst of your heedlessness, and go to the judgment in your sins!" These remarks made a very deep impression upon Ann's mind. She wept bitterly. The Spirit of God was carrying home the truth to her conscience. These remarks of her teacher seemed in some respects prophetic in reference to her. It was indeed the last time that Ann ever went to that Sunday-school room. During the following week, she met with a shocking disaster, which ultimately terminated her career, and bore her into the eternal world. We shall, in the next chapter, proceed to detail some of the circumstances connected with this melancholy event, and show how the mind of this child was affected in view of eternal things. What may be seen in the abode of poverty. CHAPTER II. THE FATAL DISASTER. "No present health can health ensure COWPER. ANN WENMAN was the child of a poor widow, who supported herself by the labour of her own hands. Perhaps the thought may cross the reader's mind, that it is hardly worth his while to stop to read the next dozen pages of this volume, inasmuch as all they promise is to conduct him into the lowly tenement of want, that he may learn how a poor sick child, whose intellectual powers were not above mediocrity, and in whose religious exercises there was nothing remarkable, felt and acted on a dying bed. And yet if the reader loves the Saviour, and bears in mind how much it cost to redeem the soul of a poor child—if he can find pleasure in tracing the workings of divine grace in the humblest subject upon which the Holy Spirit operates-we think he will find, even in this lowly instance, around which no feelings of sentimentalism can be gathered, enough to awaken the emotions of adoring love, and cause him to exclaim, This is the mighty power of God! Into that abode of poverty, whither we purpose to conduct the reader, the Lord Jesus Christ condescended to enter; yea, the Holy Spirit thought it not beneath the exalted work on which he was sent, to visit that humble spot daily with his sacred presence. Her first wish. As we have already remarked, Ann's mother was obliged to earn her livelihood by daily toil, which usually took her away early in the morning from her family, whom she did not see again till evening. Ann, being the eldest of the children, was usually left in charge with the other children. She was now about eleven years old, and uncommonly sedate and womanly for one of her age. On the morning upon which the fatal accident occurred, to which allusion has been already made, Mrs. W- went from home at a very early hour, leaving Ann to prepare breakfast for herself and the children. About the time her mother left, Ann arose and entered upon the duties which had been committed to her. She had already made a fire in a moveable furnace which stood on the hearth, in the fire-place, and had placed the lamp with which she had kindled the fire down on the floor beside her. As she proceeded in these preparations for breakfast, while in the act of stooping down to place the tea-kettle on the furnace, her clothes, which were of a cotton fabric, came in contact with the flame of the lamp, and were in a moment in a light blaze. No one that has not witnessed a spectacle of this kind, can scarcely conceive the agony of such a moment. What I could she do? There was no one near her that could render her any assistance. Her screams brought some person in an adjoining tenement to her aid; but before relief could be rendered, her back from her neck to her feet was so burned, that the physician remarked, that had the flame continued unextinguished two minutes more, she would have been a corpse. The first thing that Ann said, after her wounds were dressed, and her mother sat down by her to try to soothe her suffering, was "Will you not send for Mrs. R- -, my Sunday-school teacher? I think I shall not get well, and I wish to see her." Mrs. R- was immediately informed of the dreadful accident that had befallen Ann. Very much distressed Ann's interview with her Sunday school teacher. with this intelligence, she hastened to the spot, to see what relief or assistance she could render. The remark that this little sufferer made when Mrs. R- first entered the door, shows that pious remarks addressed to children are seldom lost. "Do you not recollect," said she, "that you told me last Sunday, that very likely some one of us would die, or would be laid upon a dying bed before the close of the week? I think this is my case-I do not think I shall ever get well.” Mrs. R- was deeply affected by this burst of deep and ingenuous feeling on the part of Ann, and gave her that kind and salutary advice which her case seemed to demand. Ann had no personal acquaintance with her pastor. She had heard him address the children frequently, and speak to them about their eternal salvation, as from Sunday to Sunday he came into the school, to see how they were progressing. Her mind was impressed with the conviction, that there was but little probability that she should get well, and she now felt anxious to do all that she could to be prepared for death. She thought her minister could tell her what she must do to die happy, and she, therefore, besought Mrs. R to invite him to come and see her. Several days, however, passed after this occurrence, before he could visit her. The impression made upon my mind, at my first call, will never be erased. The spirit of this child seemed to be in strange and striking contrast with every thing around me. It was a hot summer's morning, the weather exceedingly sultry and oppressive. All nature appeared to droop, and the feeble and unsteady step of each passer by indicated the universal sense of lassitude that was felt. Ann's mind alone seemed unenfeebled, and full of wakeful and active energy. The place where she was lying was a low basement room, in an indifferent looking house. The room itself, however, bore the aspect of cleanliness and comfort. As I entered, Ann recognised me, and announced my Ann's conversation with her pastor. name, although I had no recollection of ever having seen her before. Though suffering much and intense pain, a smile lit up her countenance at the sight of one who could speak to her about her soul. I sat down by her bed, and remarked,― "Ann, I feel grieved to hear of the dreadful accident that has befallen you; but God, I doubt not, means to do you good by this affliction. Perhaps he has let the fire burn your body, so that your soul need not be burnt up for ever. If all the suffering you feel shall lead you to pray and seek God's face and favour, so that in the end you become his child, you will not regret that this dreadful accident has happened. I was very happy to know that you wished to see me. I presume you wish me to talk to you about your soul. I trust you have learned by your attendance upon the Sunday-school, that in order to die in peace and dwell with God in life everlasting, it is necessary we should be changed and made new creatures. Are you aware, Ann, of this?" "Yes, sir," she replied, " and it was on this account I wanted to see you." 66 Well, Ann, how are we to be saved? How shall we be made fit to dwell with God? Can we make ourselves holy and pleasing in the sight of God?" 66 "O no," was her ready reply, we cannot make one hair black or white, much less make our sinful hearts clean in the sight of God-Christ must save us.' Struck with the intelligent manner in which she responded to my questions, I wished to know whether indeed she had any experimental knowledge of the way of life. I took up a Bible which was lying on the bed near her, and read to her several portions of Scripture, relating to our guilt and sinfulness by nature, and the impossibility of pleasing God or gaining his favour without holiness; and then turned and read other short selections descriptive of the Saviour's errand to this earth, and the great work he |