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 http://www.arGhive.org/details/dialoguebetweenGOOamer 
 
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 ' Nor be thou such a silly fool 
 To mind tbj book, or go to school." 
 
DIALOGUE 
 
 CHRIST, A YOUTH, AND THE DEVIL 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH CUTS FBOM 
 ORIGINAL DESIGNS. 
 
 SXWSD BY THE COMMITTEE OF PWBUCATION OF TH> 
 ▲MSBICA.N SCNDAY-SCHOOL VMIOK, 
 
 Ibilabelpbia: 
 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 1122 Chestndt St. 
 
Entered according to act of Congrets, in the year 1846, by 
 the American Sunday-school Union, in the clerk's office of tho 
 District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Multitudes of the children and youth 
 of our country are already familiar with 
 this dialogue ; and we have reason to be- 
 lieve that it has oftentimes awakened se- 
 rious thoughts, and impressed on their 
 mmds sentiments of the deepest interest 
 and solemnity. 
 
 To make it still more useful and popu- 
 lar among our young friends, we fiave 
 published this embellished edition, and 
 have, at the same time, kept in view the 
 importance of a very low price, as the 
 ^ means of securing for it extensive circu- 
 lation, — especially among the children and 
 
6 
 
 youth of the West, where we hope to 
 scatter them by nundreds of thousands ! 
 
 jf :■)/'•: 
 
 May it please the God of all grace to 
 use it as the means of alarming, convinc- 
 ing and converting many youth from the 
 service of sin, to the love and obedience 
 of the truth as it is in Christ. 
 
YOUTH. 
 
 Those days which God to me doth send, 
 In pleasure I'm resolved to spend ; 
 Like as the birds, in lovely spring, 
 Sit chirping on the boughs, and sing,— 
 Who, straining forth those warbling notes^ 
 Do make sweet aiusic in their throats, — 
 
O I resolve in this my 
 prime, 
 
 In sports and plays to spend my time. 
 Sorrow and grief I'll put away ; 
 Such things agree not with my day. 
 From clouds my morning shall be free, 
 And nought on earth shall trouble me. 
 I will embrace each sweet delight 
 This earth affords me day and night ; 
 Though parents grieve, and me correct, 
 Yet I their counsel will reject. 
 
 DEVIL. 
 
 The resolution which you take, 
 Sweet Youth, it doth me merry make. 
 
" And with thy brothers •wilt fall out, 
 And sisters, with vile language, flout." 
 
 Page 11. 
 
11 
 
 F thou ray counsel wilt 
 embrace, 
 
 And shun the ways of truth and grace, 
 And learn to lie, to curse, and swear. 
 And be as proud as any are, 
 And with thy brothers wilt fall out. 
 And sisters, with vile language, flout. 
 Yea, fight and scratch, and also bite. 
 Then I, in thee, will take delight. 
 If thou w^ilt but be ruled by me, 
 An artist thou shalt quickly be > 
 
 In all my ways, (which lovely are ,) 
 There's few with thee who shall compare. 
 Thy parents always disobey ; 
 Nor mind at all what they do say ; 
 
12 
 
 *>^: 
 
 ND also proud and 
 gj'(^f' I' ''A sullen be, 
 
 And thou shalt be a child for me. 
 When others read, be thou at play ; 
 Think not on God ; don't mind to pray ; 
 Nor be thou such a silly fool 
 To mind thy book, or go to school, 
 But play the truant ; fear not, I 
 Will straightway help thee to a Ue, 
 Which will excuse thee for the same. 
 From being whipt and from all blame. 
 Come, bow to me, uphold my crown, 
 And m thee raise to high renown. 
 
13 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 HESE notions I wil 
 cleave unto, 
 And let all other counsels go ; 
 My heart against my parents now 
 Shall hardened be. I will not bow ; 
 Nor yet submit at all to them, 
 But all good counsels will condemn : 
 And what I list, that do will I, 
 And stubborn be continually. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Wilt thou, youth, make such a choicBi 
 And thus obey the devil's voice ? 
 2 
 
14 
 
 UCH sinful ways wilt 
 thou embrace, 
 And hate the ways of truth and grace ? 
 Wilt thou to me a rebel prove ? 
 And from thy parents quite remove 
 Thy heart also ? then shalt thou see, 
 What will ere long become of thee. 
 Come, think on God, who did thee make, 
 And at his presence dread and quake. 
 Remember him now in thy youth. 
 And let thy soul take hold of truth ; 
 The devil and his ways defy. 
 Believe him not, he doth but lie ; 
 His ways seem sweet, but youth, beware ! 
 He for thy soul bath laid a snare. 
 
• Remember Him now in thy yonth, 
 And let thy soul take hold of truth." 
 
 Page 14. 
 
17 
 
 IS sweet will mt* 
 sour turn, 
 If in those ways thou still wilt run : 
 He will thee into pieces tear 
 Like lions which most hungry are. 
 Grant me thy heart, thy folly leave, 
 And from this lion I'll thee save j 
 And thou shalt have sweet joy from me, 
 Which will endure eternally. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 My heart shall cheer me in my youth, 
 
 I'll have my frolics in good truth ; 
 
 Whate'er seems lovely in my view. 
 
 That will I greedily pursue. 
 2* 
 
15 
 
 N mine own ways I still 
 will walk, 
 
 And with the thoughtless laugh and talk, 
 To spend my days in joy and mirth : 
 This will I seek while I'm on earth ! 
 Thy ways, Christ, are not for me ; 
 They with my age do not agree : 
 If I unto thy laws should cleave. 
 No more good days then should I have. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Wouldst thou live long, and good days see, 
 Refrain from all iniquity ; 
 True good alone from me doth flow ; 
 It can't be had in things oelow. 
 
19 
 
 RE not my ways, 
 ^ V / youth, for thee ? 
 
 Then thou shalt never happy be ; 
 Nor ever shall thy soul obtain 
 True good, whilst thou dost here remain. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 To thee, O Christ, I'll not adhere ; 
 Thy promises do not appear 
 Lovely to me. I cannot find 
 'Tis good to set my heart or mind 
 On ways whence many sorrows sprmg, 
 And to the flesh such crosses br<ng. 
 Don't trouble me. I must fulfil 
 My fleshly mind, and have my will. 
 
20 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 NTO thyself, then I'U 
 thee leave, 
 That Satan may thee wholly have. 
 Thy heart in sin shall hardened be, 
 And blinded in iniquity. 
 And then in wrath I'll cut thee down 
 Like as the grass and flowers are mown 
 And, to thy wo, thou shalt espy 
 Childhood and youth are vanity : 
 For all such thmgs I'll make thee know^ 
 To judgment thou shalt come also , 
 In hell, at last, thy soul must burn, 
 When thou thy sinful race hast run. 
 
2i 
 
 ONSIDERthis! think o« 
 thy end! 
 Lest God do thee in pieces rend. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Amaz'd, Lord, I'll now begin ; 
 
 help me, and I'll leave my sin . 
 
 1 tremble and do greatly fear. 
 To think upon what I do hear. 
 To feel thy rod I cannot bear, 
 Nor to offend thee would I dare. 
 Lord ! I thy servant now will be. 
 And turn from Satan unto thee. 
 
DEVIL. 
 
 AY, foolish youth, don't 
 change thy mind, 
 Unto such thoughts be not inclined ; 
 Come ! cheer thy heart ; rouse up ! be glad^ 
 There is no hell : why art thou sad ? 
 Eat, drink, be merry with thy friend ; 
 For when thou diest, that's thy end. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Such thoughts as these I can't receive, 
 Because God's word I do believe : 
 None shall in this destroy my faith, 
 Nor do 1 mind what Satan saith. 
 
*' Eat, drink, be merry with thy friend ; 
 For when thou diest, that's thy end." 
 
 Page 22. 
 
25 
 
 DEVIL. 
 
 LTHOUGH to thee 
 £(? / herein I vield, 
 
 ^et I ere long shall win the field. 
 That there's a heaven, I can't deny, 
 Yea, and a hell of misery ; 
 That heaven is a lovely place 
 I can't deny, — 'tis a clear case, — 
 And easy is it to come there ; 
 Therefore take thou no further care. 
 All human laws do thou observe. 
 And from old customs never swerve \ 
 Do not oppose what great men say, 
 And thou shalt never go astray. 
 3 
 
26 
 
 fi 
 
 HOU may'st be drunk, 
 and swear and curse^ 
 
 And sinners think thee none the worse ; 
 At any time thon may'st repent, 
 'Twill do when all thy days are spent. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Beware ! or else thou art undone : 
 These thoughts are from the wicked one. 
 Narrow's the way that leads to life ; 
 Who walk therein do meet with strife. 
 Strait is the gate, as Christians know, 
 But sinners in a broad way go. 
 If righteous ones scarce saved be, 
 What will at last become ot thee } 
 
^ 
 
 H ! don't neglect m^ 
 precious call, 
 Lest suddenly in hell thou fall : 
 Unless thou shalt converted be, 
 God's kingdom thou canst never see. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Lord, I am now at a great stand. 
 If I should yield to thy command. 
 My comrades would me much deride, 
 And never more with me abide. 
 Moreover this I also know. 
 Thou can'st, at last, great mercy show. 
 When I am old and pleasure's gone. 
 Then, what thou sayest I'll think upon* 
 
28 
 
 ILL then I'll walk in mj 
 own ways, 
 Nor mind what God, my maker, says. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Nay, hold, vain youth ! thy time is short , 
 I'll have thy breath, then ends thy sport ; 
 Thou shalt not live till thou art old. 
 Since thou, in sin, art grown so bold 
 I, in thy youth, grim death will send, 
 Then all thy sports will have an end. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 I am too young, alas, to die ; 
 
 Let death some old gray-head espy. 
 
"I, in thy youth, grim death wiU send, 
 Then all thy sports wUl have an end." 
 
 Page 28. 
 
31 
 
 SPARE me and I 
 will amend, 
 And with thy grace my soul befriend. 
 Or else I am undone, alas ! 
 For I am in a woful case. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 When I did call thou would*st not hear, 
 But did'st to me turn a deaf ear ; 
 And now in thy calamity, 
 I will nol mind nor hear thy cry ; 
 Thy day is past. Begone from me t 
 Thou w*ho didst love iniquity 
 Above thy soul or Saviour dear. 
 Who, on the cross, great pams did bear 
 
3*2 
 
 Y mercy thou did'st 
 much abuse, 
 And my good counsel did'st refuse ; 
 Justice will therefore vengeance take, 
 And thee a sad example make. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 O spare me, Lord ! Forbear thy hand ! 
 Don't cut me off, who trembling stand. 
 Begging for mercy at thy door. 
 O, let me live but one year more ! 
 
 CHKIST, 
 
 If thou some longer time should'st live, 
 Thou would'st again to folly cleave ; 
 
.^ 
 
 HEREFORE, to thee 1 
 will not give 
 One day on earth longer to live. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Youth ! I am come to take thy breath, 
 And bear thee to the shades of death : 
 No pity to thee I can show, 
 Thou hast thy God offended so. 
 Thy soul and body Pll divide : 
 Thy body in the grave Pll hide. 
 Thy precious suul in hell must be, 
 With devils, to eternity. 
 
 Thus end the days of wicked youth, 
 Who will not hear nor mind the truth ; 
 
34 
 
 HO neither thmk, nor 
 fear, nor pray, 
 But do their parents disobey. 
 They, in their youth, go do^vn to hell, 
 Under eternal wrath to dwell. 
 They do not live out half their days, 
 For cleaving unto sinful ways. 
 But those who fear the Lord in youth, 
 Shall find the ways of peace and truth ; 
 They serve their Saviour here below, 
 And when the}" die to heaven they go. 
 
♦♦ But those who fear the Lord in youth 
 Shall find the ways of peace and truth." 
 
 Page 34. 
 
See page 13. 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR 
 
 iraiTTEjr for the American sunday-school uniow, ani 
 
 REVISED BY TUB COMMITTEE OF PUBLICATION. 
 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 1123 CHESTNUT ST., PHILADELPHIA. 
 
Entered according to Act of CJongress, in the year 1842, 
 by Herman Cope, Treasurer, in trust for the American Sun- 
 day-school Union, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court 
 of the Eastern District of Pennaylvania. 
 
 L. JOHNSON, STEKEOTYPEKi 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 One afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lane and their two little girls were 
 seated around the tea table. Their 
 meal consisted of the whitest and 
 lightest of home-made bread, gold 
 en-looking butter, which had been 
 that day churned, cheese, and dried 
 beef, with an abundant suj3ply of 
 milk for the children. As Mr. Lane 
 handed Lucy the bread, she said, 
 " No, father, I do not want any ;" 
 and when her mother filled her 
 1* 5 
 
(J TRIALS OF Tirr POOR. 
 
 little china cup with milk, she said^ 
 with a dissatisfied manner, '^I do 
 not want any milk, mother, nor any 
 thing to eat ; for there is nothing 1 
 love on the tahle." 
 
 " Do you mean to say, Lucy, that 
 you do not love hread and butter? 
 Your taste must have altered greatly 
 since yesterday, for you were then 
 eating some, and I heard you say, 
 • O how delicious !' " 
 
 " Yes, mother, I did say so, for I 
 was very hungry then, and it tasted 
 very good ; but now I feel as if .1 
 wanted sweetmeats, or cake, or 
 something nice." 
 
 " Well, my child." said her fath(ir, 
 " if you are not hungry, you may 
 leave the table. I dare say, before 
 a great while, bread and butter will 
 taste deliciously again." 
 
TRIALS OF THE »)0R. 
 
 i 
 
 Hii 
 
 Lucv, who had been Mning back 
 listlessly in her chair, did not expect 
 this. She lingered half a moment, 
 looking imploringly first at her 
 father, and then at her mother, to 
 see if what the former had just said 
 was to be regarded in the light of a 
 permission or a command, but a 
 slight motion of her father's hand 
 left her without doubt as to his 
 meaning. 
 
 Lucy w^alked to the window, look- 
 ing very sorrowful, and sat down 
 there, but she did not pout, nor 
 pretend . she did not^ care. These 
 naughty things Lucy never did, but 
 she looked anxiously at her parents, 
 as she occasionally raised her eyes, 
 uncertain to what extent she had 
 incurred their displeasure. Pre- 
 sently Bell said, in a loud whisper, 
 
8 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 " Mother, may Lucy come now ?'^ 
 
 "Just as your father says, my 
 dear," replied her mother. 
 
 Encouraged by her sister's inter 
 session, Lucy advanced to her 
 father, and said in a low tone, 
 
 " Father, are you angry with me ?" 
 
 "Not angry, Lucy," replied her 
 affectionate father, " but quite dis- 
 satisfied with you, for so ungrate- 
 fully finding fault with the bounties 
 which Providence bestows on you. 
 How many children do you suppose 
 there are in this town, who would 
 regard as a rich feast the food of 
 which you so unthankfully com- 
 plain." 
 
 "Will you forgive me, father!" 
 said Lucy. 
 
 This was what this little girl, 
 who was on the whole a good child, 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 9 
 
 never failed to do. If she did the 
 slightest thing to displease her pa- 
 rents, she immediately confessed 
 lier fault, and asked their forgive- 
 ness. She was never know^n to he 
 obstinate or rebellious, or sullen, 
 and the application for the pardon 
 of her faults w^as never made in 
 vain. 
 
 After tea, Mrs. Lane told the 
 children to put on their bonnets, 
 and she would take them to walk. 
 They were soon ready, and their 
 mother gave them each a bundle to 
 carry. 
 
 '• What is in this bundle, mother ?" 
 said Bell. 
 
 '• That is some clothing for a poor 
 woman, who has a little baby, and 
 scarcely any thing for it to wear " 
 
10 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 '•And what is in riiine. mother l"^ 
 said Lucy. 
 
 "Some rice and sugar for the 
 sick children. I am going to take 
 you with me to Mrs. Crofts, w horn 
 you have often seen at our house : she 
 is very poor, and her w^orthless hus- 
 band has gone off, and deserted his 
 family. It is perhaps better he 
 should go away, than to stay to 
 treat his poor wife so unkindly, and 
 to set so wretched an example to 
 his children ; But Mrs. Crofts could 
 not feed and clothe them, if she 
 was not assisted by those w^ho know 
 her to be a deserving woman. It is 
 some weeks since I have seen or 
 heard from her, till yesterday, when 
 I w-as told that she is greatly in 
 need ; her children are sick with 
 the measles and she has a babe but 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 11 
 
 a few weeks old, that wants cloth- 
 ing. Jesus Christ says, ' Ye have 
 the poor with you always, and 
 whensoever ye will, ye may do 
 them good,' (Mark xiv. 7 ;) and we 
 are also enjoined, as we have op- 
 portunity, 'to do good unto all.' 
 (Gal. vi. 10.) So having this op- 
 portunity, it is my duty, as well as 
 my happiness, to do good to this 
 poor family. And I take you and 
 Bell w ith me, that you may see how 
 thankful you should be to a kind 
 Providence, who has ' made you to 
 differ' from those who suffer through 
 poverty and sickness, and who have 
 scarcely enough to eat or to vvear, 
 that you may learn to value the 
 abundance w^hich has been granted 
 you, and to be ready to distribute, 
 and willing to communicate tc 
 
12 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 those from whom God has withheld 
 so large a share of his bounties. 
 But here we are at Mrs. Croft's 
 poor dwelling." 
 
 After knocking at the door seve« 
 ral times, Mrs. Lane tried to open 
 it, and found it locked. She then 
 went to the window, and looking 
 in at a broken pane, saw a child 
 about five years old lying in a rock- 
 ing chair, that was propped up so 
 as to lean against the wall; she 
 looked very sick, and made no re- 
 ply to Mrs. Lane's request to open 
 the door. On a table that stood 
 under the window, was a bowl of 
 water, and a cup of medicine, with 
 a spoon laid across it. She also dis- 
 covered the key of the door, which 
 had been dropped in when the 
 mother left the house. With this 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 13 
 
 she easily unlocked the door, and, 
 on entering the room, found another 
 sick child about three years old, ly- 
 ing in a cradle in front of the table, 
 which had concealed it from hei 
 view, before entering the house. 
 
 The sight of these lonely, sick 
 children so affected Mrs. Lane that 
 she could not refrain from tears. 
 After a few moments, she approach- 
 ed the cradle, and spoke in a soothing 
 tone to the little one there, but the 
 sight of a stranger alarmed her, and; 
 her feeble, whining cry soon brought 
 a neighbour, who lived in the back 
 part of the house, to inquire into 
 the cause. 
 
 "Where is Mrs. Crofts?" asked 
 Mrs. Lane, when the woman ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " She had an opportunity, ma'am^ 
 
14 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 to do several days' work, for wh:ch 
 she is well paid," replied the woman ; 
 " and as she does not often get such 
 a chance, and is very much in want 
 of money to pay her rent, I told her 
 I would come in once in a while, to 
 give the children their medicine, 
 and attend to them, if they cried." 
 At this moment the door opened, 
 and the mother of the sick children 
 entered, carrying her babe in her 
 arms, and followed by a feeble look- 
 ing girl about eight years of age. 
 On seeing their mother, both of the 
 little ones burst into a loud cry. It 
 seemed as if the pent up grief of 
 the long, dreary, desolate day, had 
 poured itself forth at the sight of her, 
 on whose bosom they had been ac- 
 customed to lay their heads, and 
 mto whose ear they had told ail 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 15 
 
 their infantile sorrows. She sank 
 into a chair, as if completely ex- 
 ha\isted. and laying her sleeping 
 babe upon her knee, she covered 
 her face with her hands, and wept 
 till h^r frame shook with emotion. 
 The child that was lying in the 
 rocking chair slid down on the floor, 
 and feebly walking to her mother, 
 laid her head on her shoulder ; and 
 the little one rising in her cradle, 
 stretched out her hands towards her 
 mother, ciying, " Take a me, take a 
 me." Hannah, the eldest child, who 
 returned with the mother, took the 
 babe, unbidden, and seating herself 
 on a low stool, held it in her arms 
 The vacant place o?i the mother's 
 lap, was soon filled by the child 
 from the cradle, who3^ wpiiings 
 were hushed when she nestled :j< 
 
16 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 Jier mother's arms, and was folded t(j 
 her bosom. The new baby had for 
 so short a time taken her place, thai 
 she still felt it was her's by right. 
 
 As soon as quiet was restored, and 
 Mrs. Lane's feelings would allow 
 her to speak, she said, (and for the 
 moment she spoke reproachfully.) 
 "how could you, how could you, 
 Mrs. Crofts, leave these sick child- 
 ren for a whole day ?" 
 
 The woman bit her lip, while 
 her convulsed features and heaving 
 chest told how stern was the neces- 
 sity that could compel her to so un- 
 natural a course of conduct. After 
 a pause, she said, 
 
 " Because, ma'am, I have neither 
 food nor clothing for them. My rent, 
 which has been unpaid for more 
 than two months, amounts to better 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 17 
 
 flian four dollars, for I pay fifty 
 cents a week for tliis room, and the 
 landlord says he shall put my things 
 in the street if I do not pay part of 
 it by the end of this week. A few 
 days ago I went to Mrs. Strong for 
 work. Her laundress had just left 
 her, and she said, if I would come for 
 a week, and wash, iron and clean for 
 her, she would pay me four shillings 
 a day. This was such an opportunity 
 as I seldom have. Hannah had had 
 the measles, but as it was nearly two 
 weeks since, I thought the little 
 ones were not going to take the 
 disease, so I told Mrs. Strong I 
 would come Well, ma'am, I took 
 Hannah to take care of the baby, 
 and went there last Monday morn- 
 ing, leaving Betsey and Ann at 
 home. When I came home, Betsey 
 
 2* 
 
18 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 was crying with the headache ; she 
 was feverish and light-headed all 
 night, and hefore morning Ann was 
 taken sick, so that I had no rest ; 
 still I thought I must go in the 
 morning ; so I fixed Betsey in the 
 rocking-chair and Ann in the cradle, 
 and kissed them, and told them to 
 be good children, and went with a 
 heavy heart to my work." 
 
 Here the tears rolled down her 
 (jheeks, and she was obliged to clear 
 her throat before she could proceed. 
 " Mrs. Thomas,'' she continued, 
 " promised to come in and give them 
 their medicine, and speak a kind 
 word to them now and then, and 
 Betsey said if Ann cried, she would 
 try to sing to her. Twice, while 
 the baby slept yesterday, I sent Han- 
 nah home to cheer them a little, and 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 19 
 
 tell them mother would come as 
 soon as she had done her work. 1 
 found them very sick, when I came 
 home last night, and passed another 
 leepless night. This morning, they 
 both clung to me, and cried so hard 
 that I thought I could not leave 
 them ; but I was obliged to harden 
 my heart, and leave them crying, 
 for I thought of being turned into 
 the street. So I told them if they 
 would be good children and stop 
 crying, and let me go to-day, 1 
 would not leave them again till they 
 got well. So I went again, and I have 
 brought home twelve shillings, the 
 earnings of three sad days, to pay 
 towards my rent. Mrs. Strong has 
 been very kind, and has given me 
 some clothing for the children «ind 
 some provisions besides." 
 
<20 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 " But why did you not come or 
 send to me ?" said Mrs. Lane ; •' you 
 knew I would assist you." 
 
 "O, ma'am, I was ashamed to 
 come to you again, you have helped 
 me so much. I expect to work, and 
 am glad to do so, only it came hard 
 to leave the children sick." 
 
 " Yes, yours indeed was a sad 
 necessity, but you must have some 
 other way to live," said Mrs. Lane. 
 " Have you never learned a trade ?" 
 
 " O yes, ma'am. Before I was 
 married, I worked at straw-bonnet 
 making, and I was a nice hand at it. 
 I was careful of my earnings, and 
 did not spend them for fine clothes. 
 so that when 1 was married, I had 
 enough to furnish my little house 
 with all that I needed ; but my hus- 
 band" — she paused, for she could 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 21 
 
 not bear to speak of his faults, par- 
 ticularly before the children ; '^ you 
 know ma'am, the history of my 
 troubles," she added ; " one and 
 mother of my things have gone to 
 pay for his ruin and my wretched- 
 ness, and sometimes I feel as if I 
 could do no more. O, were it not 
 for the consolations of religion, I 
 should sink, but I find in the word 
 of God a something that heals my 
 wounded spirit; and when I feel 
 like repining or complaining, I draw 
 comfort from this book, that the 
 world knows nothing of." 
 
 Mrs. Lane continued some time 
 in conversation with this poor wo- 
 man, in which she not only encou- 
 raged her by kind counsel, but gave 
 her such assistance as her circum- 
 stances required, and by which she 
 
22 TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 was enabled to pay her rent, and 
 procure some comforts, of whicli 
 she and her children were in need. 
 She also promised to assist her in 
 procuring employment from some 
 of the milliners. This benevolent 
 object she was very successful in 
 accomplishing ; for the first milli- 
 ner to w^hom she applied, told her 
 she had more work than she could 
 possibly attend to. and would be 
 very glad to employ a good hand to 
 alter, whiten and press hats. Mrs. 
 Croft's work was so well done, that 
 she soon had as much work as she 
 could attend to, and she and her lit- 
 tle ones began to see better days. 
 
 Lucy learned a lesson from her 
 visit to Mrs. Crofts, which she has 
 never forgotten ; and no doubt, 
 m consequence of it, she will not 
 
TRIALS OF THE POOR. 
 
 25 
 
 only receive with gratitude the fa- 
 vours which Providence bestows on 
 her, hut will, through life, be one 
 of those who " remember the poor."