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another until an interval of six months has elapsed. Should his paper during that time obtain the distinction which would otherwise entitle him to a prize, it will be printed in its proper position, but the prize will be awarded to the Scholar who has written the answer next in merit.


A five shillings prize to HANNAH LLOYD, aged 15, Cambridge House School, Liverpool; and FRED. PERRY, aged 10, Sir W. C. Trevelyan's School, Seaton, Devon.

A three shillings and sixpenny prize to H. B. PROCTOR, aged 13, Swindon Parochial Schools, Wilts; and J. T. NORRIS, aged 9, Whitworth National Schools.

The above-named Prize Essayists are desired to send to the Publisher, Mr. JOHN HEYWOOD, 141 and 143, Deansgate, Manchester, the name of any book or books, of the value referred to, which they would like to receive, and such will be forwarded, post free, within one week afterwards. The Publisher, of course, reserves to himself the right of refusing to forward any work the character of which he may think injurious; but with that single exception Prize Essayists may select any work they please. They will, doubtless, avail themselves of the advice of their parents or teachers in their selection.

A catalogue of three thousand works will be sent by the Publisher on receipt of a penny postage stamp for postage.

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LAST Summer, when I was staying at the little village of Chaumouni, in Switzerland, I was invited to a picnic party, at the foot of Mount Blanc. The day we were to go turned out a beautifully clear one, eminently fitted for mountain scenery. We started, mounted on mules, at five o'clock in the morning, and were, fortunately, in time to see a most glorious sunrise. We reached Mount Blanc at seven, and at the foot of it had a real picnic breakfast, out of some hampers we had brought with us. After breakfast some of the party proposed ascending the mountain; but, as it would have taken more than one day, the idea was given up. So we ascended a smaller mountain, the name of which I forget. After a great deal of toiling, we at last reached the top. What beautiful sights met our eyes! For miles and miles around there was range upon range of mountains, and far away we could see a glacier, with the sun shining on it, making it look like a vast sheet of glass; while, on the other side, was Mount Blanc, towering above us, making us feel so small and insignificant. We stayed and saw the sunset, which was more glorious (if possible) than the sunrise had been. The day had been remarkably hot, and the sky in the west was almost copper-coloured. After sunset we descended as quickly as possible to get to Chaumouni before dark; which, I am happy to say, we did; and, after supper, ended my day of holiday. HANNAH LLOYD.

Cambridge House School.-I certify that the enclosed is the work of Hannah Lloyd. ANNE DALLING, Principal.


WE started from Swindon station at six o'clock in the morning, and arrived at Windsor at about nine o'clock. When we had left the railway carriage, we went up Castle Hill, towards the Castle. When we got there we found that it was not to be opened till half-past twelve o'clock, so we went into St. George's Chapel. We saw the seat of Her Majesty, which was directly over the Communion Table. By the time we had been through St. George's Chapel, it was time to go into the Castle. We were conducted, by a gentleman, through most of Her Majesty's rooms. The walls of every apartment were covered with scarlet and green satin. In one of the rooms of state were two beautiful tables of solid silver. The flower garden around the castle looked magnificent; almost all the plants were out in bloom. When we had left the Castle we went to Crewe (the seat of Sir Daniel Gooch), where there were to be athletic sports. As we were going about the grounds we saw a lot of little mounds, with little tombstones at the head of each; on the tombstones there were the names of each dog that was buried beneath. There is a beautiful stream at Crewe, running through Sir Daniel's grounds, which is so clear that we could see the large fish swimming about in it. When we came away it was dark; and there were so many intoxicated men, that we should not have been able to get into the train had not a kind gentleman put my mother into the carriage. We returned, after spending a very merry day at Windsor.

HENRY B. PROCTOR, aged 13.

Swindon Parochial School, Wilts, 25th April, 1873.-I certify that the above composition was written in my presence by the boy whose name is beneath it, and that no aid had been given him.


To our Correspondents.

WE have been much pleased with the very good papers that have been sent us on the first subject. Some of them are so interesting that we intend inserting them, with slight corrections where necessary, among the Young Scholars' Compositions.

A correspondent writes to us: "Allow me, as a teacher, to express to you my thanks for your efforts to promote the mental and moral culture of young people. I only heard of your magazine a month ago, but I have now given my bookseller an order for a dozen monthly, which I distribute among my pupils."

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And you hath He quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins.-Ephesians ii., 1.

IFE and death are two opposite things: children full of life naturally think very little of death. And so the poet Wordsworth remarks :

A simple child,

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

Yet there are some things about death that even little children ought to know, especially what we are going to speak of in this paper-the death of sin.

It is the soul that sin destroys. It is a bad thing for the body, too, and often makes it die before its time; but it makes the soul die for ever, unless Christ stands between the soul and its sin, and saves the soul from its sin.

No. 19.-JULY, 1873.

People whose souls are dying of sin often go about as though they were not sick at all. So a child walks about days after it is ill, not knowing that anything is the matter with it, until its face is so flushed, its body so weak, and its temper so fretful, that its mother puts it to bed, and sends for the doctor. Our souls are sick all the same, though we may not know it.

Many people, whose souls are sick and dying, do not care about it. So the sick child lies on its bed and does not mind its sickness; nay, is rather pleased that so much fuss is made of it, and so many presents brought it. But there is the pain to be endured, the nasty medicine to be taken, the weariness to be borne, the long vacant days to be lived through; so that when it sees rosyfaced children, full of life and strength, with fresh flowers from the meadows in their hands, it is very sad, thinking how nice it must be to be able to run about and play and gather flowers. And one day, people, whose souls are dying, will see, when it is too late, what a dreadful thing the death of the soul is, and how glorious and beautiful is its life.

Now there are diseases of the soul, in the same way as there are diseases of the body. They are mentioned in the last six of the ten commandments. For just as Moses was commanded by God to keep the children of Israel from things that would hurt their bodies, so he was commanded to warn then against doing things that would hurt their souls. And just as children going to be sick become fretful and irritable, so it is in the soul. The first kind of soul-sickness is disobedience to parents and teachers. The passionate, stubborn, rebellious child has set himself in no good way, and if he is not cured of this disease, it will, by its violence, destroy his soul, and make him miserable for ever. Who ever knew of a disobedient child that was happy ?

And then, again, hatred is a disease of the soul; a dark, ugly, deadly passion, leading on to murder itself. And there is uncleanness, delighting in filthy talking, and writing filthy words on walls and doors. O what a terrible disease this is! A boy or girl who does acts of uncleanness, or thinks impure thoughts, has a soul very sick, like the sickness of leprosy in the body. And just as the unhappy leper had to cry out to all who approached him, "Unclean! unclean!" so boys and girls who suffer from this sad complaint seem obliged to publish it to

others it will make itself known, and when known there is nothing a healthy soul hates and shuns so much. None but the pure Jesus can conquer this dreadful disease of impurity.

And so we might go on to talk of other soul-maladies--of stealing, lying, slandering, coveting. All these are diseases of the soul, just as small-pox, bronchitis, and rheumatism are diseases of the body. And each one of them is sufficient to make the soul die.

The great doctor to cure these diseases is Jesus Christ. He is the great physician, who walked up and down Galilee and Judea three years, healing men's bodies and souls. He who asked the poor dead spirit its name, and who inquired of the afflicted father how long his child had been tormented; He who sighed as He loosed the tongue of the deaf and dumb man, thinking of the crowds of sick people who could not come to Him to be saved; He is now waiting to heal men's souls of these dreadful diseases, if they will only come to Him, and feel that they are sick, and have faith that He can save them. And, therefore, every night we should pray in the words of the beautiful hymn:—

O, Saviour Christ, our woes dispel,

For some are sick, and some are sad,
And some have never loved Thee well,
And some have lost the love they had;

And some have found the world is vain,
Yet from the world they break not free;
And some have friends who give them pain,
Yet have not sought a friend in Thee.

And none, O Lord, have perfect rest,
For none are wholly free from sin;
And they who fain would serve Thee best,
Are conscious most of wrong within,

Thy touch has still its ancient power,
No word from Thee can fruitless fall:
Hear in this solemn evening hour,
And in Thy mercy heal us all.

HE that never changed any of his opinions, never corrected any of his mistakes, and he who was never wise enough to find out any mistakes in himself, will not be charitable enough to excuse what he reckons mistakes in others.

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