Mrs. Sinclair was a good and tender mother and very seldom left her little family.

One afternoon she was obliged to go out, and as it was to visit a sick person, she thought it best not to take with her either Charlotte, who was five years old, or Charles, who was just three years and a half. Her eldest son, Ernest, was gone out with his father, and there was nobody left at home except the servants and the children. Mrs. Sinclair spoke particularly to Fanny, the nurse maid, telling her to great care of Charles and Charlotte.

The nurse took the children into the garden; they then ran about in the meadow, while she gathered them some nosegays, and after some time they returned towards the house, and again played about in the garden.

While they were there Fanny discovered that she had lost her handkerchief, and instead of asking the cook to fetch her one, she told Charlotte to take care of her brother for a minute or two, while she ran to the nursery to get one.

When Fanny opened her drawer, she found somebody had tumbled her best gown, and her huswife and balls of cotton were all mixed about among her clothes. Now, Fanny liked to see her things neat, and in their proper places, so she could not bear to leave them in disorder, and while she set her drawer to rights, above a quarter of an hour passed away.

All at once she recollected the children, and looking out of the window she saw Charlotte very busy undressing her doll, and called to her, “Where is Charles?”

“Oh, there he is,” said Charlotte, without looking up.

“I do not see him,” cried Fanny, and ran down stairs as fast as possible.

She looked round but he was not in sight.

“He was here just this minute,” said Charlotte; “he was looking at a snail which was crawling by that monkshood.”

Fanny now began to be frightened, and ran to the kitchen window to see if Charles was there. The cook had not seen him; she then ran round the garden, but he was not to be found. The cook now came, and they looked in the yard, and examined the dog kennel, for Charles had once gone and laid himself down along with “Captain;” but now Captain was asleep in his kennel quite alone.

They then thought he might have gone to the kitchen garden, but the door was locked, and Mrs. Sinclair had taken the key. Fanny next examined the shrubbery at the end of the garden, and the gate which opened into the meadow, but that was shut.

You may suppose how anxious Fanny now felt; the sun was just setting, and not a sound was heard except the mill, and the sheep-bells at a distance. At this moment, Mr. Sinclair, who had just returned, met her, and asked what was the matter, and where the children were.

Fanny, (bursting into tears.) O, Sir, Charlotte is up stairs; but—

Mr. Sinclair. But what! Where is Charles?

Fanny cried very bitterly, and could not answer.

Mr. S. Where is he? What is the matter?

The cook then came, and said, “Sir, Charles is lost.”

Mr. S. Lost! What do you mean! lost! when, and how?

Cook. We have been looking for him this half hour, Sir; he was just before that time in the broad walk with his sister; but we cannot find what is become of him.

Mr. Sinclair appeared struck; he was silent for a minute, but his lips moved as if he was uttering a short prayer. He then inquired very earnestly, but calmly, where they had looked.

F. Oh, every where, every where, Sir; Oh how unhappy I am.

Ernest. I dare say you are, but why could not you take care of the child?

Mr. S. Ernest, this is not a moment to give way to anger; we must examine how it happened afterwards; but God knows where your brother is, I trust he will enable us to find him; quick, we must lose no time; I dare say he has got into the meadow.

F. Sir, the gates are both shut.

Mr. S. The smallest gate easily shuts to, and a gust of wind may have closed it after he had gone through.

Ernest and his father then went into the meadow. On one side was a copse, through which there was a path, and on the other side the ground rose till it became a steep hill, and sloped down on the other side rather suddenly towards the lake.

“Cross the meadow, Ernest, and go up the hill,” said his father; “I will go round through the copse, and meet you.”

Ernest made haste, and called out, “Charles, Charles,” as he ran, for he was very fond of his little brother: “Charles, Charles, where are you? Oh, I wish I knew where you are gone.”

He then recollected what his father had said, and as he loved and feared God, he thought, “O Lord, thou knowest where Charles is gone, direct me where to find him.”

He then felt encouraged and ran on. I dare say my readers remember the beautiful text, “The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him; to all that call upon him in truth.” It is in the 145th Psalm. Yes, God hears even the youngest child who asks for his help in faith.

Ernest ran up the hill as fast as he could, though it was very steep and covered with furze bushes.

You may imagine his joy when he got near the top, and saw little Charles about two hundred yards before him, running along a very dangerous path, which was full of rough stones; on one side the ground sloped towards the wood, and on the other it was a precipice towards the lake.

Poor little Charles was crying very sadly: he stopped and wiped his eyes with his pinafore, and then ran on again, and then stopped again and cried, and then ran on again.

“Charley, my dear Charley,” said Ernest.

Charley stopped and looked behind him.

“Oh, my dear Charles,” said Ernest, leaping over the bushes and catching him in his arms, “God has preserved you.”

Presently their father came up. “Thank God,” he exclaimed, and taking Charles in his arms he kissed him, and they hastened back to the house.

Mrs. Sinclair had just come in, and was deeply grieved at what had happened; but instead of giving way to grief, or flying into a passion, she inquired what had been done to search for him, and finding that proper measures were taken, she went into her own room, and prayed that her little Charles might be brought back again in safety.

While she was thus employed, she heard Ernest’s voice at a distance: “Here he is; here he is; we have found him!” She opened the window, and exclaimed, “Oh! where, where, let us be thankful!”

Mr. Sinclair was carrying him in his arms.—The poor child had fallen asleep, but he was much agitated, and sobbed deeply. They laid him on his bed, and by degrees he became more calm.

Fanny stood at the further end of the room; she was still weeping, but her tears were tears of joy.

“Fanny,” said her mistress, “come here; I have cause to blame you very much, and should do so, but I know you are not accustomed to be careless, and I see you deeply feel the consequences of your neglect. Learn from what has happened, that a very trifling neglect of our duty may be the cause of a very serious evil. If you had attended to your duty and my orders, what painful feelings would you have saved both yourself and us. You are young; never, never forget this lesson, and entreat the Lord to improve it for your good.”

“We may all learn a lesson from it,” said Mr. Sinclair; “my grief at missing Charles, and my fear lest some accident had befallen him, made me think of the goodness of our heavenly father towards us. I said to myself, God compares his love towards his children, to that which I feel for little Charles; surely, then, I ought not to fear that he will leave me, or forsake me; and if I should be so unhappy as to wander from his paths, surely I may hope that he will seek for me, and lead me back again.”

Mrs. S. That reminds me of what our Saviour said, when he compared himself to the good shepherd who goes to seek for the sheep that has wandered from the fold, and having found it, carries it home, rejoicing.

Ernest. When I saw how unhappy little Charles was, it made me think how miserable those are who wander from the ways of the Lord; and when I see how glad we all are, that dear little Charles is brought home in safety, it reminds me of the joy there will be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, and is brought back again.

Mr. S. Since our Lord has been pleased to try us in this manner for a short time; let us entreat that he would bless this trial to our hearts, and let us not forget the thanks which we owe to him. He is indeed merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He hath not dealt with us according to our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.

The hour for family prayer was now come. Mr. Sinclair read the 103d Psalm, and while he endeavoured to bless the Lord for all his benefits, he did not forget the mercy which they had so lately experienced.

Before she went to rest, Mrs. Sinclair looked at little Charles; he just woke, and smiled at his mother, gave her a sweet kiss, and then went comfortably to sleep again.