along the wet grass a long way in order to reach a

stream.

The conger-eel is a marine species, found in most of the European seas. It sometimes attains the length of ten feet.

"IF NO ONE WILL PRAY WITH ME,
THEN I WILL PRAY ALONE."

(Translated from the German, for the “Churchman's Penny Magazine.")

In the village of Bergheim, in Germany, lived a peasant named Jacob, with his wife and one little boy. This child had the blessing of a pious grandfather, who, from his very earliest years, had made him an object of earnest prayer. When he was brought as an infant to church to be baptized, his grandfather chose for him the name of John, saying, "May he be beloved of God in time, and throughout eternity.' Although this good old man lived six miles from Bergheim, he often visited the little boy; and often would he lay his hand upon his head, and say, "The Lord bless thee, my child; the Lord bless thee, and keep thee as the apple of His eye." And, as we shall presently see, his prayers were not left unanswered by that tender Saviour who has said, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me."

On the day on which his grandfather celebrated his sixtieth birthday, Jacob and Anna drove over, with their little boy, to see him; and John was de

lighted at the idea of spending the whole day with This grandfather. Jacob could not stay long, but returned home, promising to come again in the evening. However, when evening came, just as he was harnessing the white horse, a terrible peal of thunder was heard, and such a storm came on that he decided it would be better to leave his wife and child to spend the night at their grandfather's. Accordingly Anna had to stay, though she would have preferred going home; for she always felt rather ill at ease in the good grandfather's presence. Little John, on the contrary, was so delighted, he would not leave the side of the old man. When evening came, the whole household were assembled together. John's grandfather opened the large Bible, read a portion of it aloud, and then offered up an earnest and childlike prayer, out of the fulness of his heart, alluding with particular emotion to his birthday. Every one then retired to rest, after a kind "Goodnight." The following morning Anna set off, to walk back with her child. It was a lovely summer's day, and the walk, in the cool of the morning, through the birch-woods and past several little waterfalls, was most inviting. John was very fond of flowers, and seldom passed them by: to-day, however, he walked through the gaily-coloured meadows, behind his mother, as seriously and quietly as though not a single flower were to be seen. Neither did Anna feel much inclined to talk : her mind was uneasy, she did not know why. All on a sudden the child stood still, looked up in her face inquiringly, and said, “Mother, why does not father do as

grandfather does?" His mother was somewha confused. "Go and look for flowers," she said; an continued to walk on.

So they went on silently; but the child did no care about the flowers. Presently they came to th top of a hill, from which was a beautiful view the distant mountains. Anna sat down to rest fo a little while, and John beside her. "Mother," h then began again, for the second time, "why doe not father do as grandfather does?" Anna fel impatient. "Well," she answered, rather sharply "and what does grandfather do?" "He takes th great Bible," said John, "and he reads and prays.' His mother coloured. "You must ask your fathe about it," said she.

When they reached home, Jacob was not there. He was gone out to reap in a field some way off, and would not be back till evening. This the mother knew, and she thought she would persuade the child to go to bed early, hoping that by the morning he would have forgotten his question. But she was mistaken. As she was going to undress him, he began,-"No, mother: just let me wait till father comes home." So at eight o'clock his father returned. John ran up to him directly, and asked quickly, "Father, why don't you do as grandfather does?" His father looked hard at him: the question came unexpectedly. "What are you doing up here, John?" said he: ". go to bed; it's late." John was silent, but went sorrowfully to bed. He got up the next morning still more sorrowful: he seemed quite another child from what he generally

was. He sat silently and sadly at the breakfasttable, with folded hands and his head down, without touching his milk. "What is the matter, John?

Why don't you eat?" asked his mother.

John was silent.

After a little while, she asked again, "What is it, then, child?" He looked up at his mother for a moment with an expression of sorrow, and let his head sink again. His father and mother had finished, and were just going to clear away the breakfast, when his mother asked a third time, "Child, tell me what is the matter."

Then the little boy answered, “I want so much to pray, mother; and if no one will pray with me, then I must pray alone."

This was too much for Anna. Tears filled her eyes. She hastened into the next room to tell her husband what the child had said. He had heard, however, what had passed, for the door was left

open; and his conscience was touched. "John is right," said he, “and we are wrong." Then they fell on their knees together, it was the first time in their lives; and they prayed a prayer, with few words but with many tears. It was the publican's prayer, “God be merciful to us, sinners!" And He who has promised that "if two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven," was in the midst of them. He heard their petition, and He helped them.

The happy day had arrived when the little boy would no longer have to pray alone, or the grand

father have to grieve. Father and mother now b gan to bend their knees together before the Lor and to beseech His mercy and forgiveness; to a for a new heart, and for grace to dedicate themselv and their child entirely to Him.

THE SENSITIVE PLANT.

AN ALLEGORY.

THE Lord of our vineyard, who has always be very kind to us, and who knows that we had oft professed our attachment to Him and His, sent a little sensitive plant, that we might rear it up f Him: it was a slip of that kind called everlastin set in a vessel of common earth, a vessel base in construction, but beautiful to appearance.

There was nothing remarkable in this little pla but it began to excite attention by the sprightline of its growth, the verdure of its leaves, and t little lovely blossoms it here and there put forth: that both the plant and the pot were admired, n only by us, who considered it the principal orname of our dwelling, but by those of our friends who fe interested in our happiness. Some indeed told that a plant so beautiful would soon be claimed b its Owner; and that the vessel in which it was s would soon be too small to contain it. We acknow ledged the truth, we contemplated the probabilit of a removal; yet while we were engaged i directing its shoots upwards, and in setting in vie the flower, we could scarcely help thinking it wa

our own.