the acorn, which drops upon the ground, becomes in time the gnarled and knotty oak, which defies the winter's blast. It is their growing power which makes the change. And there is a living power which makes the seed of faith in the heart of a little child become a tree of shelter in whose branches we may in after years sing with a sweeter note than ever happy birds.

There was once a sower who scattered good seed on the ground, but much was lost, and only some came up as corn to gladden the reaper's heart. And every Sabbath day there is a sowing of seed and little hearts become the good soil which our heavenly Father blesses, when the lesson is taken home and pondered.

Our picture represents a suspension bridge and the grandest of all suspension bridges may be found in a book written long ago, by a publican, who became a follower of Jesus. You will find it in a chapter of Matthew's gospel, where, on the two great Rocks of Christ Jesus, the Son of God on this earth, and Jesus Christ, the Son of Man in heaven, there is placed midway the path of safety for man. If any man will come after Me, let him take up his cross and follow Me.' Be ye kind one to another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.'

THE WAY TO HEAVEN.

NE of the private schools, carried on at

taught by the Signora M., whom the Municipality discharged because she is a 'Protestant!' It is attended by a young woman, whose aunt is a nun. At all costs she must be stopped from going, but how manage it! A bright idea occurs to the Bishop of Rieti. The nun writes to her sister, the girl's mother, that on account of her health, she has obtained leave of absence from the Pope, and asking a room to be prepared for her in her sister's house. On the day appointed, the nun came out of the Convent, with her Prayer Book and the

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'Glories of Mary,' magnificently bound and edged with gold, in her bag. On the outer cover were portraits of the Madonna, of the Rosary, of Domenico di Gusman, of Alfonso dei Liguori, and of Pius IX. These were the instruments for recalling Cristina to Roman Catholicism. On reaching the house the nun embraced her niece and covered her with kisses, then opened her bag and bringing out the precious volumes, offered them as a gift to her young niece, saying, 'Here, my child, is the way to heaven.'

The girl looked at them. Very pretty,' she said to her aunt, they are most suitable for the heart of a nun.'

'No, my child, they are suited to everybody.'

'No, dear aunt,' replied Cristina, 'all kinds of food do not agree with men and beasts alike. For example, these books may be your favourite food; I would find them very indigestible. On the other hand, what suits me may not agree with you. As for the way to heaven, there is no use seeking it in these books! I have found it in the words of Jesus, who says, 'I am the way, the truth, and the life: no one cometh unto the Father, but by Me.' The way which Jesus Christ Himself has taught me in His Gospel, is enough for me. If you wish to try some other way which I do not like, you are welcome, but I cannot fellow you!'

The poor nun was stunned on hearing these words, gathered up her books, and was on the point of returning at once to the convent, having lost all hope of influencing ner niece. Cristina took up her own books, bade her aunt good bye, and went to the school. Passing through the sitting-room she left a tract on the table 'The true portrait of Mary in Heaven.' The nun was induced by her sister to remain, and on entering the sitting-room the tract was observed. The nun took it up.

This is a religious book,' she said, 'then Cristina is not so bad as she is called.' 'How, what do they say of her?' said the mother.

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'They say she has become a Protestant; my God, what a dreadful thing it has been my lot to hear!'

It may seem a dreadful thing to you, but we on the contrary thank God for it. Do you know what it is to be a Protestant?' God forbid; they are heretics!' 'Not at all; they are Christians.'

The nun read the tract, and when her niece returned from school she asked for her Bible to look up some texts quoted in it.

The forty days of leave passed, and when these expired she asked for another month. Only a fortnight was granted her by the Bishop, and at the end of that time she was invited to return to the convent. What must not have been Monsignore's surprise on getting this answer from his pet lamb. Pure air is better for me than the air of the convent, and since I am free to choose, I need not submit my will to others.' She has now gone to her own home, given up her nun's dress, given up her name of Sister E. M. of the Holy Sacrament, and donned the usual dress of women, resuming her own baptismal name. The ex-nun now reads the Word of God, not only herself, but together with other women whom she gathers together.

PETER'S LESSON;

OR, WHERE THERE'S A WILL, THERE'S A WAY.

Y Sabbath class was composed of years of

MY boys and girls under nine

age, whose parents belonged to the lowest class of society. Ignorant and careless themselves, the parents paid no attention to the education of their children; and, as a consequence, few of the class could read. The only way of getting them to commit Scripture to memory was by causing them to repeat it with me simultaneously until they could do it by themselves. In this way many passages of Scripture and portions of hymns were stored up in their young minds.

One summer, part of a chapter in the

New Testament was given out for committing to memory, and a prize was offered to the one who would be able to repeat it best at Christmas.

Peter was a bright boy, active and intelligent for his years and opportunities, always in his place, and ready with his verse. I wondered at this, because I knew the poor home he came from, and the utter carelessness of his parents. They were Roman Catholics, and there was not a Bible in the house.

After watching for some weeks, and being unable to find out how he managed to be able to repeat his verse so correctly, I asked him if he had a Bible of his own to learn it from. He blushed scarlet, hung down his head, and seemed much put about. I did not push my enquiry, and dismissed the class in the usual manner. Next day I saw one of his companions, a little girl, who said to me, 'Please, teacher, I'll tell you the way Peter learns his lesson. When we are on the road home, he makes me read it twice to him; and through the week he catches some of us in the street, and he'll no let us bye till we say it to him.'

Just think of this little fellow, not able to read a verse without great assistance, and having no Bible even if he could have used it, overcoming all obstacles, and carrying off a first prize, to his own and my great delight.

Is any little boy or girl inclined to be lazy? Think of Peter, and take a lesson from him.

J. Y. R.

pleads for His murderers: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do;' and, also, that in which He commends His Spirit unto the Father. It is he, also, who tells us that when Jesus was praying in a certain place, one of His disciples said unto Him,

'Lord, teach us to pray.'

Luke xi. 1.

Now, whas is it to pray? What is prayer?

1. It is not a mechanical thing.

In Burmah, the Buddhist punches his prayers in long slips of gilt paper which he ties to a bamboo stick and waves before his idol-god, and each time he waves the wand counts for one prayer. In the vestibule of a Buddhist Temple at Daijeeling, Mr Joseph Cook of Boston, who has recently been travelling in India, saw a praying machine, consisting of a cylinder about six feet high, and filled with something like a mile's length of cloth, covered with printed prayers. This is turned round, and one turn of the cylinder is equivalent to the utterance of all the prayers within it. In Timbuctoo, the priest writes prayers on a piece of board, then washes them off, and catching the water in a calabash, gives it to sick people who drink it for their recovery, or sells it that it may be sprinkled upon objects in order to improve or protect them. But prayer is not a mechanical thing.

2. It is not a thing of memory. The venerable Mr T. Jackson, tells us in his autobiography that when he was a boy, the people in some parts of England were so ignorant and superstitious that before going to bed, they knelt down and repeated the rhyme beginning,

'Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Bless the bed that I lie on.' And how often have you, in the same way, repeated the 'Lord's Prayer,' or that prayer which child knows, every

"This night, I lay me down to sleep,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,

I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take.'

But the repetition from memory of words
that have been learned is not prayer.
'I often say my prayers;
But do I ever pray?
And do the wishes of my heart
Go with the words I say?
I may as well kneel down
And worship gods of stone,
As offer to the living God

A prayer of words alone.
For words without the heart
The Lord will never hear;
Nor will He to those lips attend
Whose prayer is not sincere.'
What then is it to pray?

1. It is to seek (Jer. xxix. 12-13), but it is to seek with a sense of need.

A little boy, in one of the Mission Schools in Jamaica, had been very ill, and after he recovered, he told the Missionary how he had often wished that he had been beside, to pray for him. But, Thomas,' said the Missionary, I hope you prayed for yourself. O yes, sir.'-'Did you repeat the words I taught you?'-'I prayed.'—'Well, but how did you pray?-Why, sir, I begged.'

2. It is to seek from the heart. The prayer that goes up to heaven must come from the heart. When words just fall from the lips, they go nowhere and do no good. I have heard a story of a little lad who was keeping his sheep one Sabbath morning. The bells were ringing for church and people were going over the fields, when this little fellow began to think that he, too, would like to pray to God. But what could he say? He had never learned any prayer, but he felt in his heart that he would like to ask God to help him to do right and to keep the sheep. So he knelt down. Now, it happened that a gentleman was passing on the other side of the hedge, and he heard the little boy saying over the letters of the alphabet, A, B, C, D. He looked through the bushes and saw him kneeling with closed eyes and folded hands, going slowly over the letters. 'What are you doing, my little man?' asked the gentleman kindly.

Please sir, I was praying.'