IN all our great cities, in the town and country, there are vast numbers of immortal youth far beyond the reach of churches and church Sabbath-schools, and therefore, it becomes necessary to carry the Sunday-school to them. A room is obtained, conveniently located, with seats, books, etc. The children are gathered, taught to read, to sing, to pray, presented with library books, papers, etc., and thus innumerable blessings are sent down into destitute families, and soon, like leaven, the Gospel is seen diffusing itself everywhere among the mass.

Something like seventy of these mission-schools are now successfully sustained in New York City alone, with twelve to fifteen thousand pupils in them. Roman Catholic, Jewish, and other classes of children are in this way easily and successfully reached, and permanently benefited. This instrumentality must be largely increased everywhere. Some five or six different denominations often unite in the labors of one of these schools, and all work together in the most beautiful harmony. This movement is in the highest sympathy with that aggressive feature of the system, before named.

But to come to the details of this work, and how it should be begun and carried on: First choose wisely the location for a new church or mission Sabbath-school. Then select one or more men and women full of life and zeal as a nucleus of interest and labor. Next survey and visit systematically all the families in the district, and present the objects and the value and adaptedness of the Sunday-school to their wants. Pray much and at every step, privately and socially, especially in the early stages of the effort.

Get all ready for a good commencement. Have every thing arranged, so that not a moment of delay in finding the right hymn, or in singing it, will prompt the children to find something else to do. Do not admit children faster than you can conveniently control them. Some superintendents aim at gathering a rush of scholars the first Sabbath or two, and the result is that they lose months in getting to order and control of the children. It is often better to admit only a dozen or two new scholars at a time, and get them well classified and arranged, and in the hands of good teachers. There most be order, and the superintendent must wait for it, although he may not at the first do much beside. Much depends upon starting right. Have Testaments, hymn-books, and Sunday-school papers, if possible, ready on the first Sabbath. Select a clear, distinct, easy lesson at the first, and whatever is done, let it be well done. Select the teachers carefully, and admit none who have not a good report, and are not of a teachable spirit. Meet with the teachers socially every week, if possible, to aid them with your suggestions and help. Be cheerful, earnest, and respectful to all. Keep up a regular visitation of teachers and scholars, and let your visits bear a fraternal and not an inquisitorial aspect. Prove yourselves the true friends of parents and scholars, and never get out of patience or discouraged because you cannot gain the children of Roman Catholics or Jewish parents at once: it may be only a question of time. At any rate, do them all the good you can at their homes, whether you ever lead them to the Sunday-school or not. Duty is ours—results belong to God. Through the children reach the parents, and through the parents reach the children. Let your errand to the house always be one of kindness and good-will, so that if they do not receive you kindly it will be because they misunderstand you. These visits, however, are almost invariably well received if made in a natural, pleasant manner, proceeding from a "charity which hopeth all things." Respect and honor the parents all you can, whether they commit their children to your care or not. Exhibit our beautiful library books, our sweet songs, our attractive children's papers, and speak of the great kindness and love of the teachers to the children.

It is very desirable to have a course of regular week-day evening lectures for the children and parents. One week it may be "Jerusalem," another "coal," another "coral," and the next "the ocean," and then some subject of natural history, as the "elephant;" and illustrate highly to meet the eyes. Take especial care of the older boys and girls, and strive to introduce week-day exercises that will interest and please them. Appoint them upon committees and to little offices, and give them all something to do—something that they can do, something that they will do cheerfully.

The following, from The Sunday-School Times, is a beautiful illustrative example of mission Sunday-school work and teaching. It is entitled "Bill Jones; or, Our Colored Sabbath-school:"

It was one of those perfect Sabbaths in the early June, that I walked with trembling heart along the locust-shadowed sidewalk leading to our little chapel. On that day our colored Sunday-school was to be organized; and we, who only a few weeks since had professed before men and angels to love our Saviour, were to be enlisted as workers in our Master's vineyard.

What can be done to improve the religious condition of our colored population? was a question which had long occasioned anxious thought among the godly of our village. Originally slaves, they had, when the law of liberation was proclaimed through New York, refused to remove farther than the grassy common, where, almost within the shadow of "Massa's house," they were allowed to build their humble cabins. Increased afterward in numbers, the suburbs of the town had become edged with their miserable tenements. One or two attempts had been made to establish preaching among them by a minister of their own race, but thus far without success. True, in the "brick church," a part of the gallery was set apart especially for their use. Still the "dark corner" (as the mischievous boys called it) was only occupied by a few old uncles and aunties, while the rest, though within sound of the sweetest of all Sabbath bells, were as utterly without God in the world as their brethren in Africa.

At length a Sabbath-school was determined on. As most of those able and willing to work were already engaged, one of the officers of the church volunteered to superintend the school, provided he might have the assistance of a band of young girls, who hitherto had been privileged to assemble week after week as a Bible-class in the "pastor's study."

On the first Sabbath about thirty or forty children were assembled of all ages and sizes, with wondering eyes; and in a few moments I found myself seated in a chair before six boys, whom I at once recognized as some of the worst village urchins, always to be seen at the "depÔt," or on the "hotel steps," laden with baskets of apples and pea-nuts, their own best customers. I was about to ask for more hopeful subjects, but our earnest superintendent only held out to me the class-book and pencil—and I was alone with my destiny.

Among the names, I registered Andrew Jackson, Andrew Jackson, Jr., Marquis Lafayette, George Washington, and Byron Clarke. When about to inquire the cognomen of the last, I was forestalled by his calling out, in a stentorian voice, "My name a'n't nothing but Bill Jones; but I guess you have heard of the boy who sings nigger songs and dances Jim Crow at the 'Harrison House.'" He was unfortunately not mistaken in his notoriety, and the task before me assumed a new magnitude. None of them could read, and after half an hour of A B C, I proceeded to ask some simple questions of Bible history, of which I soon found that they knew absolutely nothing: their ideas of God, even, were as wild as those of the little Hindoos. So I began at the beginning. I spoke of the six days of creation; then of the deluge. When in my account of the ark and its wondrous freight, I was interrupted by one. "Did they have bears?" "Yes," I answered. "And lions?" "Yes." "Elephants?" "Yes." "Monkeys?" "Yes." And finally Billy Jones, all eagerness, "Did they have a clown?" And I found to my utter dismay that my youthful auditors, certainly not incapable of association of ideas, had conceived of Noah merely as the proprietor of a menagerie travelling in that wild waste of waters. Truly this was fallow ground. But our superintendent only smiled encouragement, and bade me go forward.

Sabbath after Sabbath rolled on, and rain or shine my six boys were always in their places. They had learned to love the school, especially the sweet hymns; and their quick sympathies had gone out to one who at least always tried to treat them gently and kindly. Of their affection I had many unmistakable proofs. Once I remember walking in one of the quiet streets. I was suddenly startled by three sonorous cheers, and looking up I saw the "Marquis," Andrew Jackson, and Byron Clarke. Though not precisely the most agreeable greeting for a young lady, I could not in my heart do less than wave a return. Again, they frequently brought to our door presents of flowers and fruit. In one instance the latter bore such a striking resemblance to some rosy-cheeked apples in a neighbor's orchard that I was forced to reprove the boy, and the next Sabbath took for our "lesson talk" the eighth commandment. Not many days after the same child made his appearance at the kitchen, his hands filled with the first pond-lilies of the season; and as he gave them to me he said, "There, Miss Esther, you will like them, for they's honest; God growed them in the outlet." Never, from that day to this, have flowers brought more true gladness to my heart than did those pure white blossoms, plucked by swarthy hands in the "outlet" where "God growed them."

We established a missionary society among them, and many a penny, previously devoted to fire-crackers and the like, now found its way down the red chimney of our "savings bank." Poor Bill Jones had less to give than any of the boys, and this I plainly saw troubled him a great deal. He had stopped dancing "Jim Crow," first on Sabbath, and of late on week-days; and this being his chief source of revenue, his spare pennies were few and far between. One day, with a bright face, he asked me "if it was not right to do good on Sundays?" Of course I replied yes; and then "if it was wrong to take money for doing good on Sundays?" This was a nice distinction—one which I felt him not capable of understanding should I attempt it. So I simply said, "No, I thought not." Though feeling rather curious, I had no opportunity just then of asking as to these pious earnings. Next Sabbath the teachers were requested to remain a moment. A gentleman arose, not a member of our school, saying that a few hours since he had witnessed a scene which had so touched his heart that he could not forbear cheering us with the glad tidings. Passing the "Harrison House," he noticed that the invariable group of Sunday-noon loungers had deserted their post. Just then his ear was caught by a clear melodious voice singing. It seemed to come from the bar-room. Yes, as he drew near, from the open windows of that den of pollution floated out on the summer air the words:

He stepped upon the low platform and looked in. On a table sat a negro boy. About the room were hard-faced young men, and those older, on whose bloated features intemperance had set its livid brand. But they were all listening. The singer finished the last verse, and then began again. This time he sang, "Jesus, lover of my soul." My own eyes were dimmed, said the gentleman, as he came to the lines,

It seemed as if for a moment an angel's wing brushed away the shadow from those darkened hearts, and tears moistened cheeks long unused to heart-rain. The singing stopped. "Go on, go on, we will pay you more," said one and another. "I cannot now," answered the boy; "it is time for Sunday-school, but I will sing again next Sunday, if you'll come." And as he put into his pocket the coppers that were handed him, he said, "I wouldn't take these, only I am going to send them to the heathen. I'll sing you the hymn—it's beautiful—about 'Greenland's icy mountains;'" and humming it to himself, "Bill Jones" left the bar-room.

Reader, should it ever be your good fortune to walk down this thickly-shaded village street on a Sabbath morn, you might within those very halls, now pure and white, hear the rich baritone voice of "Bill Jones" leading in some song of Zion, and with him many others, "plucked as brands from the burning."