amily prayers; and that by engaging with his heart in these devotions, he might be preserved from sin.

Now, I think it very probable that many boys, on reading the above story, may think that James's case was a very hard one; and I think so too. But God requires us to do our duty in hard cases as well as in the easy ones. Children very often think that their parents' commands are unreasonable when they are not so; and sometimes perhaps they are so. In all, however, the child is to comply, with a submissive and filial spirit, and the peace and happiness arising from having done your duty and pleased God, will far more than counterbalance the loss of play.

You will find it so, John, if you give yourself to God, and worship him sincerely, in private and in the family. You will find that God will guide and strengthen you, and guard you, in a great degree, from the temptations to which you are exposed. Besides the advantages I have mentioned, there are others, which those enjoy who engage in family worship with sincerity, and which give them a quiet and peace which cannot be obtained in any other way.

You are often, very often exposed to danger. If the danger is small, and your father is near, you feel safe, because you think he can protect you from harm; but in times of greater danger, you feel troubled and fearful, even at your father's side. There are times when you feel that even your father cannot protect you; you need some one stronger than he-you need to feel that God is your guardian and friend. But how can you

feel this, if you have no regard for him, and neglect to call upon him? In the morning, your father assembles the family together, and they ask God to take care of them for the day; you refuse to join in the prayer, and pay no attention to the worship. Suppose now, that, in an hour after, your father should send you away on horseback to do some business for him, the horse gets frightened, and runs away with you; he darts from the road into a rough and stony field, and you are thus carried along at his will in danger of being cast headlong against a rock. Can you, at such a time, feel calm and peaceful? Do you feel that God is your friend?-do you believe that he will deliver you from death? or can you, without fear, think of meeting God, in case he should at that time call you from this world? But, suppose you are a boy of prayer; suppose you have given yourself to God to serve him during the day, asked him to take care of you, committed yourself into his hands, that he may do with you as he pleases. In that case you would feel calm. You would not, indeed, know that God would save your life; but you would know that you were safe in his hands,— perhaps he would take you to another world,perhaps would save you alive;—whatever happened, you would feel safe; for you would know that God did it all, and that he was your friend.

THE NEED OF PRAYER.-DIALOGUE BETWEEN

LUCY AND JANE.

LUCY.

Jane, it has never done me good
To attend the Sabbath School;

I hear instruction, and intend
To take it for my rule;

But all my good resolves are gone
As soon as school is o'er;

I. act as bad, and sometimes think
Worse than I did before.

It was last Sabbath that I heard
About the Prince of Peace;
That if we loved him as we ought,
All wrath and strife would cease.

And then I thought I would not speak
An angry word again ;

Nor ever have an angry thought,
Nor murmur, nor complain.

But long before the day was gone
I fretted dreadfully;

Nor thought how kindly and how long
The Lord had borne with me.

I learn the lessons that you learn,
The same instructions hear;
And yet the faults that I commit
Do not in you appear.

I wish you'd tell me how it is
Your conduct is so good;

I think if I should know the way
I'd do it, if I could.

JANE.

Before I go to school, my dear,
I go to God in prayer,
And beg him graciously to bless
The truths that I may hear.

When school begins, I carefully
Attend to all that's said;
And try to keep it in my heart
As well as in my head.

When I return, I straight retire
Again to seek the Lord,

And pray him to incline my heart
To love his holy word.

And then, through all the week, I try
To live as I have prayed;
And oftentimes, in every day,
I seek my Father's aid.

When I forget my God, and sin,
I've but one way to take,
To beg forgiveness of my guilt,
For my Redeemer's sake.

And humbly at my Saviour's feet
I earnestly implore

He'd draw me closer to himself,
That I may sin no more.

THE FAMILY CHANGED.

CHAPTER V.

A STORY FOR ALL.

and

I was very young when I left the paternal roof, and was separated from my mother. My father lived in one of the finest regions of France, and passed all the year upon his estates, which obliged him, for the sake of my education, to separate me ninth year, from him, when I had attained my to place me in a college at Paris. Until this age, my mother had the sole care of my education. Each day she devoted several hours to giving me lessons, and often made me read, after her, portions of the Holy Scriptures, which she afterwards explained to me in a persuasive and touching manner. This exercise, and the prayers I had been accustomed to repeat morning and evening, together with the sermons which I heard on Sundays, were the only means of improvement which I enjoyed. I had been three years in college, when my father requested one of his friends to bring me to Languedoc, a province in France, to pass The health of the time of my vacation there.

my mother was so much impaired, that the physicians felt the greatest anxiety on her account. She was so changed that I hardly recognized her. Although very young, I felt the deepest sorrow, and could not bear to fix my eyes upon those pale and faded features, that I had formerly