of his master's spirit. But I fancy he became early aware of this danger, and earnestly strove against it. And then the very opposite example he had always witnessed at his home counteracted the influence of his master's workshop. I think I can say more than this: namely, that the religion of Jesus Christ came to his aid, and swept away, in a great measure, the evil consequences of his bad business training. At any rate, I hope this was the case, though this properly belongs to an after-part of the boy's history, which I shall not dwell upon. I hope I do not tire you," said Mr. Johnson, when he had got as far as this.

"No, sir," we all said; and truly too; for he had a quiet, simple way of telling the story which pleased us all.

TO BE CONTINUED.)

C

Christ Precious.

HRIST is precious when the sinner
Tremblingly beholds His face,
Hears the gracious words, "Forgiven,
Through Mine all-abounding grace!"
Christ is precious when the Christian,
Journeying in the upward way,
Feels His kind and loving hand-clasp
Guiding toward the perfect day.
Christ is precious, doubly precious,
When the narrow path grows dim;
We should stumble, fall, and perish,
If we did not cling to Him.
Christ is precious when the valley,

Dark and chill, we tread with fear;
Then His rod and staff give comfort,
His sweet voice affords us cheer.

Dearest name the lips can utter,
Christ our Saviour, Lord, and King!
Let the earth repeat His praises,
Let the heavens His glory sing!

The Last Time Lily Hepburn said her
Prayers.

NE winter evening Lily Hepburn ran into her
mother's cosy sitting-room saying gaily, "Mamma,
I've come to say my prayers. Nurse says, Rogers
said you wanted me."

"Yes, dear, I did want you," replied her mother from her

invalid chair, and the thin white fingers stroked the sunny face that looked into hers, as she added softly, “But I hope my little Lily will do something more than merely 'say her prayers.' Will she not try to speak to God-to ask her heavenly Father for what she needs, as earnestly as I heard her this afternoon pleading with papa for something she had coveted in the toy-shop?"

"Oh, the doll's house you mean, mamma! But then I do want it ever so much. It is such a beauty, you've no idea. There is a dining-room and a drawing-room; and, best of all, mamma, there is a real kitchen with pots and pans, and delicious doll-servants standing about. There's nothing in the world I should like half so well; that's why I was begging papa so hard for it-don't you see, mamma ?" wound up Lily, quite out of breath with her eager narrative.

"Yes, my child, I quite understand," replied her mother in a low, sad tone; and then she lay silent for a little with a look of discouragement on her face.

Mrs. Hepburn was the mother of a merry group of children. There were six little bright facès round the nursery table, and six pairs of eyes to be got to sleep in their little cots at night. It was with a yearning heart that the mother stooped over these tiny beds and looked at the rosy sleepers; for she knew that before long she would have to leave her little ones, to obey her Master's call to the home above. Her rapidly-failing health told her too plainly that the great journey must be taken soon, and all the farewells spoken; and she had work she would fain have done before she went away. Her children had to be left to Him in troublesome world, and she longed to see them listening to the Shepherd's Voice and following Him before she herself went to the green pastures of the safe-gathered sheep, "to go no more out."

Mrs. Hepburn watched wistfully for any Godward stirrings in the hearts of her children. Winningly and wisely did she talk to them of the Good Shepherd who came to gather the lambs; unceasingly did she pray that He would gather

them; but her night was coming fast, and her dear ones seemed heedless of the voice from heaven that called them, or its gentle tones were unheard in the mirthful dawn of childhood.

Lily was one of the merriest of the little group, and her mother had been deeply anxious during these last months to find some response in the eager little soul to those realities which were so vivid to her own mind. But these things did not appear in any degree to sink into the child's heart, and as Lily listened to her mother's earnest words they seemed to her

"Like puzzling phrases strung

As beads upon a string."

This was the substance of Mrs. Hepburn's thoughts. She fancied she could understand what the mothers must have felt when the disciples tried to hinder them from bringing their children to the Lord Jesus Christ; but then the Master had interfered, and presently the happy mothers saw their little ones safe in His arms. Where was the Master now, thought the disheartened mother, that He would not once before she left this world give her a glimpse of His taking her dear ones and blessing them?

66

Mamma, dear, mayn't I go now? I'm sure I hear Willie calling. Nurse promised we should have one more round of Blind Man's Buff before we went to bed-mayn't I go?" Lily repeated impatiently, endeavouring to break her mother's silence by pulling the fringes of her Shetland shawl, which the restless little fingers had been plaiting during the silence. "I'll promise to say my prayers to nurse before I get into bed-indeed I will, mamma."

"Nay, my little Lily will kneel by her mother's knee to-night, and try to pray to her Father in heaven."

A few more weary days and nights, Mrs. Hepburn thought, and she might be beyond the sound of those dear lisping voices; but she did not say so, for she would not willingly cast a shadow over the gladsomeness of childhood.

So Lily's clustering curls went down among the folds of

the soft shawl, and she began, as she usually did, to repeat some short petitions, each one freshly dictated by her mother, and coming from the depths of her mother's heart. To-night Lily caught them up very glibly, and waited rather impatiently for what was coming next; for there was Willie's voice calling now, and the fun would certainly be half over before she reached the nursery.

She had just repeated, in rather a heedless tone, "God be merciful to me a sinner," when her mother paused, and Lily looked up wonderingly to see the cause of the unusual delay. To her surprise the tears were stealing down her mother's face, the thin hands were clasped together, and her lips whispered tremulously, "God be merciful to me a sinner!"

The mother's soul was alone with God at that moment, forgetful of her child's presence, even of her child's needs. Lily continued to gaze with a mixture of curiosity and woe. What could it mean? Was her mamma saying her prayers too, and was being a sinner real enough to make one sorry— to make one cry as she had never seen her mother do before?

Presently the feeble hand was laid gently on the little girl's raised head, and Lily went on with her prayers. But there was a knot in her throat as she repeated the words now, and an awed sense of a listening presence which she had never felt before.

If Willie had not burst into the room at that moment, calling, "Mamma, mayn't I say my prayers first? Nurse said I was to, and here's Tim wants to begin-is it fair, now, mamma?" Mrs. Hepburn's heart might have been gladdened by knowing that "while she was yet speaking" her prayer was being answered.

All that her pleading words, scattered over years, had failed to do was done by the child's silent witnessing of the mother's own real intercourse with God. The Holy Spirit in His own time had caused to beat that first pulse of spiritual life in the young heart in a way that mother did not dream of. Her own daily life was certainly that of one