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My dear Children,

I was once a little boy, and attended the Methodist Sunday School at Burnley, Lancashire; but now I am removed to a far distant land, to preach the glorious Gospel, which I heard and felt, when in my native country. We who liv Aus. tralia, have our feet just opposite to your feet, at the other side of the globe. Could you come to us, right through the earth, you would have to travel very near eight thousand miles. But as this is impossible, you would have to take ship at Liverpool, or London, or some other English Port, and sail half round the world. Look at the


you will see the route, along the Atlantie Ocean, from North to South, right between the American and African Continents, rounding the Cape of Good Hope, right on the Great Southern Ocean, up Spencer's Gulph, leaving Van Dieman's Land to the right just off the great Australian Continent.

The good old ship, “The Asia," in which we sailed, was one hundred and nine days out of sight of land. Some of the great steamers now make the passage in nearly half that time. Mind you, it is a long while to be on the great waters, seeing nothing but sky and ocean; and you must be on the ship all the time, and learn to put yourself in a very little room. No slipping out at the back door, or going up street a marketing, or to chat with a neighbour. The food and water which you take in on the English shore, is to last you all the voyage. Sometimes the water sinells very bad, but you must drink it. When the mighty tropical showers come rattling down upon your floating house, you would be glad to catch some, as it runs off the tarpauling, and drink it out of your shoe, if you had nothing better to catch it in. Its no joke to be obliged to eat hard sea biscuit, and salt junck, and to be thankful for water that at home you would be sorry to wash your face in. Under such circumstances, only think of the pure stream that used to glide past your fine vegetables growing in your garden, and the fresh meat and bread from your butcher and baker, and you would find

door ;



your palate watering at the very thought. Then perhaps the captain and crew are drunken and swearing men, and many of the passengers not a whit better. What dancing, gambling, drinking, and fighting. Drunken men puting their lighted pipes and cigars into their pockets, and great quantities of gunpowder in the ship.

Then my children, think of the different climates you have to pass through; remember however cold it is you must not have a fire in your berth; but this is not so bad as the intense heat, in crossing the tropics. Perhaps you are becalmed, no wind, no progress, there you are under the burning sun, on the glassy burning water, the sails of your vessel, flap, flap, flap; then the drunkards get groggy; delirium tremens seize some, and they frequently die. Bad as the water is, it can be boiled, and is ten thousand times better than the scorching liquor, which they purchase at so dear a rate. To my taste, sailing is a very tiresome affair, even in fine weather : but Oh! what is it in a storm; only think of the mighty, mighty waves, as they toss and foam, and the mighty mighty winds, that threaten, and sometimes do rip up all your sails, and break your spars.

See! see that mighty wave, there it strikes the ship, and she staggers like a drunken man, and creaks and groans as if her very ribs were broken. All the women and children are in their berths, almost frightened to death, and the bold seamen stand amazed and tremble. Well might the Psalmist say, “They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.” My young friends read the account in Psalm cvii. and you will see that I have not overdrawn the picture.

Sometimes the ships go down to the southern ocean, and get among the icebergs; icebergs are great pieces of ice as large as your factories, and the ships are in danger of being broken to pieces, and all hands perishing. The Ship“ Guiding Star," that left Liverpool above twelve months ago, has never been heard of, and it is believed she was wrecked among these frozen seas, and all hands perished. I do not say these things to frighten you, but to give you a faint idea of a voyage on the sea, that you may not carelessly leave your parents and friends. Persons coming here, should have a good errand, and be ready for all changes, so that if they perish on the voyage, they may be ready for a better world.

Your last Missionary, with his wife and children, (the Rev. M. W. Braduey,) with myself and Mrs. T., are well. We could find work for four or five more. I will not say more at preseut, but I intend soon to write another letter, about the country, and the mission. I am, my dear young folks, Your's affectionately,

J. TOWNSEND. King William Street, Collingwood,

Melbourne, 1st. August, 1856.

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DISOBEDIENCE. Little bright-faced Willie kissed his mother at the front gate, promised her sincerely that he would go directly to school, be kind to his schoolmates, obey his teacher, and try to be a good boy.

There he goes, running down the green lane, stopping to pluck roses, violets, and other pretty wayside flowers. Ah! he has caught a butterfly ; he holds it with such a firm grasp that it is almost dead. Now he sits down under the shades of the noble old oak, with a beautiful stream of water rolling over the white pebbles and dancing in the sunbeams at his feet.

A little robin red-breast hops up close to Willie, and asks him, in his musical strain, “Why he has suffered this fairy spot to tempt him? Why not obey his mother's last wishes—to go quickly to school ?”

“O little bird, I am going to spend this pretty day with you on the green grass, among these sweet flowers, and look at the cool laughing brook as it runs past me, so clear, so beautiful. I am sure I can study a great deal more here, than if I had gone to the dusty, warm schoolhouse, and have a cross teacher watching me all the time. I am like you, little bird; I like my freedom.”

Willie opened his book and commenced studying. Little

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robin flies up on a branch, and looks down upon the little disobedient boy, and begins singing to him again. You think, little boy, that you have done right by staying here; that this is a scene of love, beauty, goodness, and purity; but be careful, your little heart is your tempter; it is becoming wicked, it has led you to one disobedient act, and can very easily lead you to another; the little spirit called conscience, which has followed you, has become weak, and unless you stop and listen to its good advice, it will be entirely lost by the loud beating of your wicked heart."

Little Willie raised his head, “Go away, naughty bird ; you make me tired of my books; make me feel as if I ought to have gone to school; go away and be still, for I am determined to spend the day here. I wonder if there are any fish in the creek ; but I have no net or line, so I could not catch any if there were. 0, it would be so nice to take a bathe, and see if I cannot learn to swim ; little boys never learn if they never try.”

Willie has left his grassy couch, and is making hasty preparation to plunge into the glassy stream. There he goes; now on the surface. O, he has gone entirely from our view; he rises again, the current is fast taking him down the stream. He lifts his little white arms above the water-cries for help; and his last words are, My mother! my mother! why did I disobey you?" He then sank to rise no more.

My little friends, be careful ; your first act of disobedience may lead you to a more dreadful end than little Willie's. You may not rest as he did, quietly under the peaceful stream; but it may hurry you to prison, from there to the gallows; may make you a raving maniac; leave you to die as an exile on a friendless shore; or make you lower than the brute creation, and die in a gutter, without God or a heaven to expect. To such ends as these, my little friends, your first acts of disobedience may


you. So be watchful and beware.

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Sarah Barlow was born at Bury, Lancashire, on the 23rd of May, 1845: her parents, John and Susannah Barlow; the former has been a member of the Wesleyan Association for some years, and his wife, though not a member, has always maintained a good moral character. They have made it their study to train up their children to attend God's house, and the Sunday-school. Sarah, the subject of the present short Memoir, in connexion with their other children was taken by the hand to the Wesleyan Association Sundayschool, Bury, at an early age: here she was put to the class best suited to her capacity, but her disposition for learning soon enabled her to advance in reading, so that when the Secretary came round to examine the scholars, Sarah's behaviour and attention to her book, soon raised her to the Bible Class. Here she was received by her teachers with kindness, and while she read, her teachers endeavoured to impress upon her mind the important truths of the Bible. Here Sarah learnt “ all have sinned and coine short of the glory of God.” (Rom. iii. 23.) That “the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." (Jer. xvi. 9.) That her heart must be renewed, and that she must become a new creature in Christ Jesus, and that " withoui holiness no man can see the Lord.” (Heb. xii. 14.) God's Holy

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