d of this little incident
I knew nothing of her mind; I had comparatively overlooked her. I have
often been sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me when I
afterwards discovered what the Lord had been doing for her soul, as if I
had neglected her, yet it was not done designedly. She was unknown to us
all, except that, as I since found out, her regularity and abstinence
from the sins and follies of her young equals in age and station brought
upon her many taunts and jeers from others, which she bore very meekly;
but at that time I knew it not.

I was young myself in the ministry, and younger in Christian experience.
My parochial plans had not as yet assumed such a principle of practical
order and inquiry as to make me acquainted with the character and conduct
of each family and individual in my flock.

I was then quite a learner, and had much to learn.

And what am I now? A learner still; and if I have learned anything, it
is this, that I have every day more and more yet to learn. Of this I am
certain, that my young scholar soon became my teacher. I _first_ saw
what true religion could accomplish in witnessing her experience of it.
The Lord once "called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst
of his disciples" as an emblem and an illustration of his doctrine. But
the Lord did more in the case of little Jane. He not only called _her_
as a child to show, by a similitude, what conversion means, but he also
called her by his grace to be a vessel of mercy, and a living witness of
that almighty power and love by which her own heart was turned to God.

PART II.

There is no illustration of the nature and character of the Redeemer's
kingdom on earth which is more grateful to contemplation, than that of
the shepherd and his flock. Imagination has been accustomed, from our
earliest childhood, to wander amongst the fabled retreats of the Arcadian
shepherds. We have probably often delighted ourselves in our own native
country, by witnessing the interesting occupation of the pastoral scene.
The shepherd, tending his flock on the side of some spacious hill, or in
the hollow of a sequestered valley; folding them at night, and guarding
them against all danger; leading them from one pasture to another, or for
refreshment to the cooling waters. These objects have met and gratified
our eyes, as we travelled through the fields, and sought out creation's
God, amidst creation's beauties. The poet and