to reside. The congregations have changed in character, but are encouraging as to numbers; and many indications give reason to hope for a brighter future.

Several interesting institutions have been founded in Wapping and St. George's, with a view to the social welfare of the population. A large establishment exists in Gravel-lane for young girls and aged women. Schooled and trained for domestic servants, these young people are prompted to diligence and fidelity by the prospect of a generous gift of one hundred pounds to be bestowed upon each at marriage, upon certain conditions, one of which requires a testimonial of good character from a family with whom the person has resided at least three years. Biblewomen, under the superintendence of pious and devoted ladies, regularly the light and comfort of the Gospel to distant haunts and wretched homes where prudence would forbid men to intrude. Mothers' meetings, also, are frequently held, when scores of earnest but ignorant souls are told of Christ and heaven. When and where shall the seed there sown bear its precious fruit?

carry

City Missionaries here find a deplorably destitute and degraded people But under the constraining love of among whom to prosecute their toils. Christ they continue at their work, and are often encouraged by gleams of light shining through the darkness. The sights witnessed in many of these filthy dens, as well as the obscene talk of profligates, are enough to revolt their feelings and drive them in disgust from such a Sodom. The spirit in which these godly men engage in their service is truly commendable. They yearn over souls. The fallen and defiled are not spurned, but treated tenderly for Christ's sake. Into courts and alleys, where policemen dare not venture singly, they go in and out unharmed. Rarely indeed has right feeling so far forsaken these wretched outcasts that they have molested a Missionary. And even when the fiendish purpose has been formed, the recollection of kindnesses formerly received has subdued the ungoverned will and occasioned remorse. The respect shown to these men, by persons long since lost to shame and virtue, is proof of the power which godly love and sympathy possess. At times unfortunates are persuaded to forsake a sinful life, and are placed within a Home. Jewels, rough and long hid from view, are now and then brought to light and polished; so that the Gospel wins some grand triumphs even here.

A peculiar feature of Mission-work in the east of London is that which relates to public-house visitation. The Missionary in St. George's-inthe-East and Shadwell has the most difficult task of the eight individual's exclusively working in this department of the London City Mission. The public-houses have long rooms attached to them for singing, dancing, and music. Sailors and persons of ill repute come into association in these moral plague-spots, and from the adjoining tap-room they can obtain what drink they desire. Many publicans have been persuaded to fix cards forbidding swearing in their houses; and the silent reproof afforded by this expedient has often checked the hasty thoughtless oath. Five

hundred and sixty public-houses, beer-shops, and coffee-houses are regularly visited in this district. Many thousand tracts are annually distributed, and multitudes have been warned against the wrath to come.

It is pleasing to review the agencies specially concentrated upon this important part of London. Every Christian heart will rejoice in the moral force brought to uplift this fallen people. Persons long resident here declare that improvement is visible. The seed has borne fruit. Faith, prayer, effort, and liberality have not been in vain. It is gratifying to know that some change for the better has been effected. But how much remains to be done? The cry for help continues loud and thrilling. The appalling wretchedness and misery, in which fallen humanity is here enwrapt, appeal for our deepest sympathy. The misfortunes of fellow-creatures cannot safely be forgotten by those who are themselves recipients of Divine mercy. Can nothing further be done to arrest the spread of sin and crime here? Children are growing up to fill the places and pursue the lives of infamy followed by their wasting, short-lived parents. Must they be left to perish? The rich merchants and ship-owners of London would do well to consider how far the abominations by which the sailor is surrounded on shore, abounding in this neighbourhood, may have resulted from a neglect of those responsibilities naturally belonging to themselves.

ORIGINAL ANECDOTE OF JOHN WESLEY.

WHEN returning from the Camborne Conference in August, 1862, it was my privilege to spend a few days in my native city of Exeter, visiting the unforgotten scenes of my childhood and youth, and conversing with such of my old friends and acquaintances as then remained. Among these was the late Mrs. Molland, whose parents and their family I can remember, as far back as memory reaches, together with their familiar abode, under the same roof with the Old Chapel, where they lodged and entertained the Founder of our Societies, whenever in passing through Exeter he could spare time to make a short stay in the ancient city. This venerable lady, who, at the time of my conversation with her, was in the ninety-ninth year of her age, well remembered those visits; and informed me that her youngest brother, then still living, had carried a table for Mr. Wesley to stand on, while preaching in the open air on SouthernHay,-a -a place of considerable extent without the walls of the city, which at that time, like Moorfields, in London, did not belie its name, having few, if any, houses built thereon; and which, at a still earlier period, had witnessed the burning of a martyr. I myself remember hearing Dr. Coke preach on or near the same spot on Southern-Hay, where Mr. Wesley had preached so long before.

On the occasion of one of Mr. Wesley's visits to Exeter, probably the last, "the Assistant" (Superintendent of the Circuit) came over from Tiverton, the Circuit town, to meet him, and was accompanied by his wife

and child. While the company were at dinner, the child, an infant in arms, appeared to give his mother a good deal of trouble, as he cried incessantly. Mr. Wesley said, "Hand him to me, my sister, I'll quiet him!" Having received the baby from his mother, he endeavoured to fulfil the duty he had thus undertaken; but the effort was not successful: he found that in this instance he had over-estimated his powers; and he was obliged to give back the child, still crying, to his mother.-Besides being another instance of Mr. Wesley's frank and genial disposition, and his well-known love for children, the incident, thus related to me by an eye and ear witness, has an additional interest. The Assistant preacher was Theophilus Lessey, sen., and the child who made, thus early, so much noise in the world, and so persistently that Mr. Wesley could not quiet him, was the Rev. Theophilus Lessey, so well remembered still for the eagle glance of his eye, and the soaring sublimity and splendour of his pulpit eloquence; and who, in 1839, at Liverpool, was a successor of John Wesley in the Presidential Chair of the Methodist Conference.

J. W. T.

PAGES FOR THE YOUNG.

NO. XXII.-THE SLEEP OF PLANTS.

THIS topic has been already adverted to in our paper on the "Polar Plant World." * A few facts were mentioned, but we did not attempt to explain them, because such explanation was not necessary for the elucidation of the subject then under discussion. Besides, there are other facts equally interesting about the "sleep of plants," with which our readers will like to be made acquainted. We therefore resume the subject, and begin by the following quotation from our former paper.

"The sleep of plants is not a poetic fiction, but a reality. Their organization, like that of animals, daily oscillates between a state of repose, and one of activity. Everybody knows that flowers open in the morning, and close in the evening." Now, flowers, in disposing themselves to slumber, seek, as it were, to take the same position which they had at the period of their infancy; their petals, in fact, close up in the same folds, and return to the same position, which they originally occupied in the bud, when they slept beneath its air-and-water-tight roof in their warm blanket of tomentum, or down. It is, also, an equally interesting fact that animals, before going to sleep, collect themselves together, placing their limbs in a similar position to that which they occupied before birth in the womb of the mother.

The phenomenon of the opening and closing of flowers is not a momentary movement, but a slow continuous process, which is continually varying in intensity during the different hours of the day. The complete expansion seldom exceeds an hour in duration, most frequently not so long; the

* See Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine for March, 1865.

petals then begin to close, at first slowly, but afterwards more rapidly, as they become more folded together; and in this closed condition the flower continues until the time of opening again returns.

The duration of this plant-sleep varies, in different species, from ten to eighteen hours; for it is with plants as with animals,-some require more sleep than others. Its average duration is about fourteen hours. Most flowers open during the first hour after sunrise, and close in the afternoon. Mid-day is therefore the culminating point of floral awakening, and midnight of floral sleeping.

Aquatic flowers open and close with the greatest regularity. The white water-lily closes its flowers at sunset, and sinks below the water for the night; and in the morning is buoyed up by the expansion of its petals, and again floats on the surface as before. The Victoria Regia expands for the first time about six o'clock in the evening, and closes in a few hours; it then opens again at six the next morning, remains so till the afternoon, when it closes and sinks below the water.

Some flowers, such as the gentian and crocus, after they have closed, may be made to open by exposure to strong artificial light; but on others, such as the convolvulus, it has no effect whatever.

Even the ordinary green leaves or vegetative organs are affected by sleep, as well as the flowers or reproductive organs. This is especially to be seen in those plants which possess compound leaves, and which belong to the natural order Leguminosa, or the "pea tribe." Thus the compound leaves of the American senna (Cassia Marilandica, L.,) and the locust tree, (Robinia pseudo-acacia, L.) droop at sunset, and continue in that state through the night; but on the return of the morning light they again elevate themselves to their usual position. In the sensitive plant, (Mimosa pudica, L.,) the leaflets fold together, and the leaf-stalk supporting them sinks down, as 66 soon as the evening shades prevail." The change of position in the leaves of these plants is so well marked, that they present, with their drooping foliage, a totally different aspect in the evening to what they do in the morning. A little girl, who had observed the phenomenon of sleep in a locust-tree that grew before her nursery-window, upon being required to go to bed a little earlier than usual, replied with much acuteness, “O, mother, it is not yet time to go to bed; the locust-tree has not yet begun to say its prayers."

Generally speaking, the leaves and flowers go to sleep at the same time; but there are exceptions even to this rule. Berthollet mentions an acacia in the garden at Orotava, in Teneriffe, whose leaflets closed at sunset and unfolded at sunrise, whilst its flowers closed at sunrise and expanded at

sunset.

But how does the sun's light and heat produce these mechanical movements of the petals and leaves of plants? It may be thus explained. All living tissues, whether animal or vegetable, possess a certain amount of elasticity and sensibility, and are capable of being expanded and becoming turgid and distended when filled with moisture and gases. Thus,

drooping flowers placed in water speedily recover themselves, their leaves assuming their natural position; for the water ascends by capillary attraction, and endosmose, or inward absorption in their stem, and diffuses itself in their fibrous and cellular tissues, which are again distended with the fluid. Now, the heat and light of the sun during the day must greatly favour the evaporation from the leaves; and this will cause the sap to rise with greater energy: so also, under the same influences, the decomposition of the carbonic acid, the evolution of the oxygen, and its assimilation with the other nutritive processes, must go on more rapidly; because we know that, when the sun is absent, plants cease to give out oxygen, that the formation of their chlorophyl, or "leaf-green," ceases; for plants grown in the dark become etiolated or deprived of colour, and their resins, volatile oils, and other organic products, disappear.

In like manner, when the influence of the sun is withdrawn, the lifeprocesses of plants as well as animals are still going on, but with less activity. The process of evaporation stops, and the upward flow of the sap to the leaves is necessarily greatly retarded. They cease to evolve oxygen, all the chemical compositions and decompositions in their organism to which light is necessary are no longer carried on, and their whole system is consequently relaxed. Their leaves droop, and their petals return to their original position in the bud. As soon, however, as the first rays of the morning sun strike their foliage, the chemistry of nature is again resumed in the laboratory of the leaf, and each foliole re-commences its allotted task in the labour of plant-construction; the sap ascends to the leaves with its wonted vigour, and their tissues again becoming filled with fluid and gases, the plants themselves necessarily strive to take the greatest amount of rigidity and elasticity, their drooping leaves elevate themselves, their flowers open, and they recover all their vital energies.

But how is the fact to be understood that some flowers open at sunset, and others in the night-time? At first this appears to contradict the principles already laid down. But it is easily explained. It is probable that heat is the chief agent in causing the movements of flowers, whether by day or night; and that the light only influences them in so far as it contains calorific rays. On this principle, the opening of some flowers at sunset, whilst others are closing, is very readily understood. Those chemical changes necessary to the growth of plants can only take place when they are surrounded by the conditions of heat and light necessary to produce them; and in some cases these conditions only exist at sunset. Hence such plants are awake and active at this time. And the same observations apply to night-flowers. These only experience the proper temperature at night, and therefore open themselves, and are the most energetic, at this period; but as soon as morning comes the conditions again change, their vital energies relax, and they once more fold themselves to their daily slumbers.

It is a great mistake to call any plant a useless weed. No true naturalist ever uses such language, because he well knows that all plants are usefully