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A FATHER'S PRAYERS.

(FROM REAL LIFE.)

T a few miles' distance from a great city in the west of Scotland stood a beautiful villa, suggestive, in its very appearance, of the name which it bore-Rose Park. The owner was one of Britain's great merchant princes; and, more honourable still, could his real name be disclosed, which is veiled beneath that of Mr. Dallas, he would at once be recognised as a man distinguished for fervent piety, deep humility, enlarged zeal, and boundless munificence in the cause of God.

Rose Park was Mr. Dallas's favourite residence. It was here all his children were born, a group of five lovely daughters. It was here, too, that his beloved wife died in the prime of life, and in the midst of usefulness in her family, the church, and the world. The charge of five motherless little girls now devolved on him. His cares, accordingly, were unceasing and devoted. Their spiritual interests especially formed the chief object of his thoughts, his efforts, and his prayers.

Mr. Dallas erred deeply, however, in one important respect in the training of his daughters. He was too fond and indulgent. He maintained the mistaken but too common sentiment of not a few pious parents, that until the grace of God effects a saving change in the hearts of their children, restraint or correction in the regulation of their conduct and formation of their character is inefficient and unwise. Hence, his five spirited children soon learned to listen with indifference to "papa's lectures," as they termed his kind counsels. Of all things, seriousness in religion seemed the farthest from their thoughts. Indifference was soon followed by dislike, and even marked contempt, towards everything sacred and divine. Nothing, in short, afforded them more amusement than their father's anxiety regarding their souls.

Mr. Dallas was a man of prayer. Like Jacob of old, a wrestler with God, he acquired a strong faith with regard to the conversion of all his children. On this subject he appeared to be endowed with a remarkable measure of the spirit of grace and supplication.

Meanwhile, however, nothing could be more nnpromising than the present aspect of affairs in his family. But little did Mr. Dallas deem that all he held holy and precious was to them, not merely a matter of indifference, but of ridicule and merriment.

The education of the Misses Dallas had been hitherto conducted at home by masters, who attended at Rose Park daily for that purpose. A confidential housekeeper superintended the family arrangements. She was an artful and designing individual, who sought to obtain the favour of the young ladies by encouraging them in all their foolish ways. In after years, the eldest of these young ladies was accustomed to remark with tears, that, but for

the wicked encouragement of that unfaithful stewardess, she would have avoided the one sad and false step which resulted in the deep unhappiness of her whole future life. Through her connivance, she received the addresses of a gentleman, not merely beneath her in rank and fortune, but an avowed infidel; and although Mr. Dallas firmly refused to consent to the alliance, yet his daughter would not be so thwarted. She boldly defied her father's authority, declaring she would leave his house, and marry without his consent. To prevent conduct so discreditable, Mr. Dallas at length suffered this unpropitious marriage to take place, but only under his solemn protest of deep disapprobation.

Shortly after this untoward event, Mr. Dallas engaged a governess for his other daughters. His choice was singularly fortunate; for Miss H— was as truly pious as she was intellectual and accomplished. But, alas! Mr. Dallas's firmness with his daughters was not equal to his wisdom in this change. Miss H found her pupils indolent, wayward, and uncontrollable. After a long and unsuccessful struggle, she at length determined to acquaint their father with their conduct. After listening patiently to her, he remarked with the utmost gentleness, "Oh, poor things, I think they are doing very well! Do not be too strict with the girls, they have not been accustomed to much restraint. It is better to draw with the bands of love than to act with too much sternness. They are the children of many prayers; and I hope yet to see them blessed by God, and blessing all around them."

Miss H- answered firmly, though respectfully,-" It may be so, sir; I trust it may be so: but God is as holy as He is faithful; and I cannot help feeling-I cannot help saying, that, unless you restrain your children, and correct them when they do wrong, if they ever do become what you so much desire-the children of God, yet, in His holy displeasure, you may not be permitted to see it.”

These words were prophetic. During the few remaining years of his life, Mr. Dallas saw no change in his daughters. Their deportment became more staid as they grew older, but they continued despisers of divine things to the close of their father's days. When too late, Mr. Dallas saw and deplored the consequences of his excessive indulgence. Yet he died full of hope in God regarding the ultimate conversion of his beloved children; steadfastly believing that, though he himself had proved unfaithful, yet the Lord would remember His holy covenant, and when he was slumbering in the dust, in His own time would bring in these outcasts of Israel into the fold of the Good Shepherd.

The Lord did not forget the unfeigned faith of His devoted servant. In His holy providence, not long after the death of Mr. Dallas, his prayers were answered and his desires fulfilled in a remarkable manner, by the conversion of all his daughters within a short time of each other.

His eldest daughter was the first who sought the Lord God of

her father. Her marriage had proved as uncongenial and unhappy as her kind father had anticipated and feared. This bitter fruit of her own folly was the needed discipline of her heavenly Father to bring her to the knowledge and love of Himself. She remembered her early errors, and the evil example which she had set before her younger sisters. She remembered God, and was troubled. She remembered her father, and her own disobedience. She had pierced his heart with a deep and painful wound; and she was now herself heart-wounded, disappointed, desolate.

It was thus, in her affliction, that she was led to seek the forgiveness and favour of God, through the love and grace of the Redeemer. The Holy Spirit shed abroad in her heart His sweet and gracious influences, regenerating, subduing, sanctifying. All the precious passages of Scripture, so assiduously sown in her mind. by her father, now seemed to spring forth in an abundance of holy fruitfulness.

This remarkable change in their eldest sister produced a very beneficial effect on the minds of her sisters. A deep and mutual trial, also, which occurred at this time, brought them all into still closer contact with spiritual and eternal realities. This was the illness and death of their youngest sister Rosa. She was a beautiful and interesting girl, scarcely sixteen years of age. It was during the sad hours of attendance on this dying sister, that Alicia, the second daughter, likewise became deeply impressed with eternal things.

Scarcely had the grave closed over the youthful Rosa, when her sisters sustained another severe trial, in the almost entire loss of their immense fortune, through the unwise speculations of trustees.

In the course of a few years, the half at least of their fortune was recovered; but the circumstances of reverse into which, for a considerable time, they were plunged, contributed much, by the blessing of God, to produce in all the hearts of the sisters the gracious effects of sanctified affliction.

Alicia was married to a pious and distinguished clergyman in the Church of England. Her son is a "burning and a shining light " in the Christian ministry. Her two younger sisters were united to gentlemen of large private fortune, and of high religious character. These children of many prayers have spent holy and useful lives, in a bright career of Christian devotedness, "blessed by God, and blessing all around.”

Reader, do you bring the matter of your children's conversion constantly before God in prayer? If so, pray on; but learn, from the foregoing example, the need also of ruling well your own house, that your prayers be not hindered (Read Prov. xix. 18).

"A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love: A resting-place for innocence on earth: a link between angels and men. Yet is it a talent of trust; a loan to be rendered back with interest."

JOHN CROW'S LEGACY.

NE bright summer evening I was led to attend divine service in a small hamlet several miles from the town in which I then resided. My way home lay through some of the most charming scenery in which the delightful county of Kent abounds. Hills, and dales, and thickets, and hop-gardens, and quiet villages, embowered in cherry-orchards, covered the distance of about six miles, that I had to traverse before my residence was reached. One of the villages I had to pass was built round a large green, in the centre of which stood a majestic beech-tree. On one side of this green were the church and churchyard, and parsonage; the other three sides were fringed by cottages and one or two homesteads and their outlying buildings. In one of the poorest, yet, withal, cleanest, of the cottages dwelt John Crow. As I passed the cottage, I saw John standing at the door; and, after a nod of recognition and a word or two of friendly greeting, I was about to pursue my walk, when he stepped out and invited me in to rest.

Nothing loth, I entered, and after some little talk about the sermon we had heard, he asked me if I would read a chapter in the Book, and offer prayer with the family, before I left.

So the seats were arranged, one for me by the side of a table, on which was placed a large family Bible; and the children were called in, some five or six at least-" of all sorts and sizes," as John said. They seemed to be not at all surprised, but took the whole proceedings as a matter of course. A good sign, this, thought I; it is plain these good people are accustomed to family devotion. While I was looking out the chapter I intended to read, I glanced now and again round the room; and I was surprised to observe that every child had a large and handsome copy of the word of God. They were all of the large octavo size, and all handsomely bound. I had never seen so many handsome Bibles in a cottage before, and could not help remarking as much to John, who sat by my side. Nor was I wrong in supposing that there must be a reason for so unusual a sight.

Said John, in explanation, "You see I am not a rich man, and my wages are so small that I cannot put by much against a rainy day. The most I can do is to save a few pence a week; for although, in the hop-picking season, even the little ones earn a trifle, it doesn't amount to much when all's said and done. I used to be a very careless man years ago, spending the little I saved at the ale-house, and thinking of nobody but myself. I shall always have to bless God for laying me on a sick bed. As I lay on my bed, day after day, I got to thinking about the children, and wondering what would become of them if anything happened to me. There were not so many of them then, and one or two were younger than the youngest sitting there. I made many vows in

that long illness, and, thank God, I have been able to keep some of them. When I got better, and had paid off the doctor's bill, and some other little matters that had got behind, I began to think again about the children; and as the Bible had become a great comfort to me in my affliction, I thought the best thing I could do for them was to procure for each a copy of the Book. So I had my name put down, and became a subscriber. And thus, by saving a few pence every week, I have been able to get a good Bible for each of the children about as fast as they were able to read it. And so, although I shall never be able to leave them houses and lands, they will not be so badly off-better off than a good many-if they each have a love for the good Book that tells us how, through the merits of the Saviour, they may find favour with God in this world, and have a house not made with hands in the better country.

While I was listening to John Crow's artless tale, my attention was in part divided by a little girl who sat in the chimney corner, and between whom and John and his wife I could not trace any resemblance. He saw that I had noticed her, and was prepared for the observation I made about the great difference between her and the rest of the family. "Ah! poor thing," said John," she isn't one of my children. Her mother died when she was very young—a mere baby-and her father was one of my neighbours. He never held up his head after his wife's death, and in a little while he also sickened and died. His little girl had no relatives, and as there was only the workhouse before her, I thought it wouldn't make much difference to us if we took her in and made her as one of our own. How do I know but what some of need help one of these days?"

my own children

may

By this time the chapter was selected, and when announced, five or six pairs of nimble hands quickly found out the place in as many Bibles. We read the chapter between us, verse by verse : it was surprising to hear how well even the youngest read without spelling any but the hardest words :-and then, after a few words of prayer, I shook hands with them all round, and wishing them a hearty good night, I walked homewards in the purple sunset, thinking of John Crow's legacy.

John Crow's legacy did not consist exclusively of a book that cost about half a sovereign. Each volume was fragrant with a father's good name; and it could scarcely be ever read, or even looked upon, but it would bring his holy character, and many of his words, to mind; and "the memory of the just is blessed." If the Bible you give your child does not speak thus of the giver, but rather reminds him of a father who only gave Bibles, but did not read them, or live them, your legacy will be shorn of half its value. And that was not all, nor even the greater part, of John's legacy. None knew better than he that the true wealth is in one's self, and not in one's possessions; that to be rich in faith, and