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THE JUVENILE COMPANION.
But on we go-the sun's faint beam

A feeble warmth imparts;
Childhood, without its joy, returns —

The present fills our hearts.

MEMOIR OF ELIZA BERINGER, OF HELSTON.

Eliza Beringer was born at Helston, January 2nd, 1844. When about six years of age, she began to go to the Wesleyan Association Sunday-school, at Helston. She was but a delicate child, yet such was her love to the school, that when she was able, she was regular in her attendance. Although regular in her attendance, nothing of special interest occurred until the month of May, 1856, when, being afflicted for some time with a slow fever, she began to give indications that the labours of her parents and teachers had not been altogether in vain. On Helston feast Sunday, when the annual school sermons were preached, she was much affected, and remained at the prayer meeting after evening service, and, although she did not experience the sense of guilt removed, yet from that time she became decided to give herself to the Lord. The week following she began to be more seriously afflicted, and was led to esplain the state of her mind to her mother. The Sunday following she was unable to attend school, which was a great trial to her. According to the usual practice of the scholars in the Helston school, she had committed to memory Matt, xviii. 1-3, the text preached from at the service held on the preceding Sunday. Her concern about the state of her soul increased, and, when conversing with her mother on the subject, she repeated part of the text, and observed that she wished to be converted, and become like a little child, as she said she felt she could not go to heaven without she experienced this change. That she had a correct idea on the matter was evident, for she remarked she must become like a little child in character and disposition. She was directed to Christ, and prayed with by her mother, but without obtaining that peace of mind after which she so earnestly sought. Gradually her strength failed. On the first Sunday in October, she became so weak as to be obliged to take to her bed; her sufferings were severe, arising from disease of the heart. She was greatly concerned about her spiritual state, and earnestly sought the salvation of her soul. One day she called her mother to her bedside, and said, “Mother, I was thinking about the text, • Except ye be converted, and become as little

children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' || Now, I am not converted, will you pray for me?" Her re

quest was complied with, and this little Sunday-school scholar, in penitence, cried to the Lord. She said, “ Lord, take my heart and seal it for thy own." “ Thou hast died for me.” “Thou hast shed thy precious blood for me." “Lord, I do believe, help thou my unbelief." "Thou hast purchased a crown for me. Let no one take my crown.” Her mother encouraged and directed her, inviting her to the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world. Whilst thus instructing her child in the way of faith, and praying with her, she had the happiness of seeing Eliza lay hold of the hope set before her. After struggling for upwards of five hours, a sense of comfort was afforded her, and she was enabled to exclaim, in the joys of believing.

“My God is reconciled,

His pardouing voice I hear,
He owns me for his child,

I can no longer fear.”

Soon after she obtained a sense of pardon. Finding her exhausted, and judging that sleep would be of service to her, her friends left her alone ; but, after they had left the room, she was heard still engaged in prayer, saying

“I never shall forget the day,

When Jesus took my sins away."
Soon after she fell asleep, and her mother and a young

friend sat by her bedside. When she awoke, she, in a sweet and grateful tone, repeated

“ Sleep in Jesus, oh, how sweet,

Ye need not shed a tear;
Why do you wish to call me back,

Who have no cause to fear.” Her friends were much affected. When she heard them weeping, she said, “ Mother, you need not shed a tear. You took away the candle, but it was not required, for the room was full of light and glory.” A neighbour sent in something for her by a young person. When she received it, she inquired of the young woman Lavinia, have you began to pray? It is quite time to be converted." When speaking of the kindness of her friends, she said they would be rewarded in the resurrection of the just. Her strength rapidly declined, but, as her end approached, it was evident she was ripening for glory : her experience and conversation were remarkable for one of such tender years. A few days before she died, she complained of pain in her heart. Her mother tried to comfort her, by expressing a hope that she would be better soon. “ Yes, mother, when I am in my grave, not before ;" and then exclaimed, “O death, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory?" Her end drew near, and as though about to take a journey, ! she began to prepare for leaving her friends. On the Monday before her death, she desired that her books, chiefly her Bible, the “ Juvenile Companion," and prizes she had received as rewards at the Sunday-school, might be brought. She carefully examined, divided, and arranged them, and tben, as if attending to some matter of juvenile and usual interest, she distributed them to her brothers and friends. “ My prize books give to John-my Bible to Fred, and divide the rest amongst them.” Her hymn-book-her last reward-she desired her name might be written in, and given to a young woman who had been kind to her in her affliction, and accompanied the gift by expressions of gratitude and wishes for her spiritual welfare.

On the afternoon of the day on which she languished into life, the writer, called to see her, and found

her in an exceedingly weak state, and suffering severely from the malady which so soon terminated her sufferings. The sight was exceedingly affecting. The little sufferer sat up in bed, supported by pillows, gasping for breath, as though each respiration was the last. The mother, on her knees by her side, supporting her, and alternately commending her child to the Lord, or whispering in her ear some consoling Christian sentiment; the father, standing at the other side of the bed, mute, and bathed in tears, occasionally giving utterance to an expression indicative of a father's love ; the brothers, and a friend or two, awaiting the approaching change. The writer will not soon forget the impression produced on his mind-everything indicated solemnity, not gloom. When knelt down by the side of the sufferer, he commended her to the Saviour, who loved her, and who died for her; or, as he listened to the expressions of hope, confidence, and triumph, which escaped from her lips, he felt in a sense, but seldom realised, that death is but the summons Jesus sends to take his people home. Eliza, addressing a young friend, who was weeping at the bedside observed, Jesus drank the cup, the bitter cup, for her, and exhorted her to drink the cup of salvation. She repeated, “Cup, cup-drink, drink ;" whereupon her mother said, “ Yes, my dear, you shall drink it new in the Kingdom." It was evident that her mother understood her meaning. In the intervals of pain, she was heard to say, "To die is gain." “ Safe into thy haven guide." "If this be death, I soon shall be from sin and sorrow free.” Then, lifting up her baby hand, and pointing with her finger, she whispered, “ A band." Utterance again faileri her: her mother again supplied the words, “A band of Angels;" and the smile of radiant joy which lighted up her countenance, clearly indicated that her intentions had been expressed. Seeing her father deeply affected, she said, “Father, farewell, a last farewell.” The last words which could be understood were, “Meet me in heaven." After suffering great pain, she sank peaceably into the arms of her Saviour on the 20th of October, 1856, in the 13th "year of her age. The happy death of

this young disciple illustrates the following beautiful
lines :-
“He gazed on the flowers with tearful eyes,

He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.
They shall all bloom in fields of light,

Transplanted by my care,
And saints upon their garments white,

These sacred blossoms wear.
And the mother gave, iu tears and pain,

The flowers he most did love
She knew she should find them all again,

In the fields of light above.
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,

The reaper came that day ;
'Twas an Angel visited the green earth,

And took the flowers away." The substance of the above paper was read to the scholars of the Sunday-school, Helston. Some of her old schoolmates appeared to be affected. Should the reading of it in the “ Juvenile Companion " be made a blessing to the children of our schools, by leading them to think of Eternity, and give themselves to Christ, the teachers in our schools will be encouraged to persevere in the good work, by being '! made acquainted with another instance of the usefulness arising from Sunday-school exertions, and the design of the writer will be accomplished. Helston.

CHARLES EDWARDS.

THE SAMARITAN WOMAN'S QUESTION.
"Is NOT THIS THE CARIST ?JOHN IV. 29.

(Continued from page 122.) Apply this question to His Miracles. On the sea of Galilee, usually so calm and placid, but now wrought into a tempest of raging and foaming fury by a terrific storm, is a vessel, over which the waves are rolling, threatening her with speedy and utter destruction. And yet, in that

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