of duty performed. Jesse sat quiet and thoughtful for a while. He did not understand it. Here were boys praying and not ashamed of it. He had tried to tease them, but the tables had been turned upon him. I'll let them alone, he thought, or they'll be preaching to me. But the next day, when the boys came back singing and happy from the loft, Jesse could not resist the temptation to talk a little.

"Johnnie," he said, "tell me what you do over there." "Why don't you come and see?" "Oh, I can't come : but what do you do?" "We all pray, and then sit down and talk about Jesus." "What do you pray for ?” "We pray that we may all love the Saviour, and be more like Him. We ask Him to help us to mind our teachers and parents and to help us get our lessons." "What, pray about your lessons! That's queer." Yes, Jesse, you don't know how much help it is when you have a hard lesson, to carry it to Jesus, and ask Him to give you patience. He helps me in all my lessons." "Is that all you pray for ?" pray for all the scholars who do not love Christ. for you Jesse. Won't you pray for yourself? never prayed in my life; I cannot. "Come with us to the Hay-loft to-morrow, and we will pray for you."

"No; we

We pray “No; I

The morrow came, and the boys at noon again sought their place of prayer, but Jesse was not there, nor was he in his accustomed seat in school.

Perhaps the arrows of truth had pierced his heart, and he feared to come. Fervently did the little band pray for him. Fervently they still pray. They expect an answer.

In the school of the Great Teacher they believe Jesse will bless God that he ever met the "Hay-loft Boys."-S. S. Times.

HOW JESUS COMES.

NE evening the children in Falk's reformatory at Weimar sat down to supper. When one of the boys had said the pious grace,

Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and bless what Thou hast provided," a little fellow looked up and said,

"Do tell me why the Lord Jesus never comes? We ask Him every day to sit with us, and He never comes."

"Dear child, only believe, and you may be sure He will come; for He does not despise our invitation."

"I shall set Him a seat," said the little fellow; and just then there was a knock at the door.

A poor frozen apprentice entered, begging a night's lodging. He was made welcome; the chair stood ready for him; every child wanted him to have his plate, and one was lamenting that his bed was too small for the stranger, who was quite touched by such uncommon attentions. The little one had been thinking hard all this time:

"Jesus could not come, and so He sent this man in His place -is that it ?"

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"Yes, dear child, that is just it. Every piece of bread and every drink of water that we give to the poor or the sick, or the prisoners, for Jesus' sake, we give to Him."

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."

The children sang a hymn of the love of God to their guest before they parted for the night, and neither he nor they were likely to forget the simple Bible comment.-Praying and Working

HIS is a very remarkable bird. Though not numerous, the species is found in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. The European Pelican, when full grown, varies from five Valoto six feet in length; its wings, when Code spread out, measure twelve or thirteen feet from one extremity to the other. Its plumage is, generally, a pure on of white, tinted with salmon colour. It is a water bird, and frequents rivers, lakes, and sea-coasts. It is web-footed, a good swimmer, and lives on fish which it captures with great adroitness. Under its bill it has an elastic pouch which will contain a great number

of fish, and into which it puts any superfluous quantity which it may catch, either for its own consumption or that of its offspring.

It was formerly believed that the female Pelican nourished her offspring with her blood, but this notion is now given up; nothing of this sort has been observed in connection with the Pelicans kept in the London Zoological Gardens and in other places.

THE FIRST OF APRIL.

OME in."

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'Susan, here is a letter for you that my mistress sent up. Some one just brought it."

Susan opened the letter and read a few lines, then began to wring her hands and weep. Little Henri loved his nurse, and could not bear to see her crying, so he threw his arms about her neck and begged to know what was the matter. Pierre was frightened and ran for his mother.

"Mamma! Mamma! come quick!

Susan has got a bad

letter, and she has fallen on the couch, and is crying so hard!

"I'm very sorry. Perhaps, her children are sick, or her mother."

"I am afraid they are dead. Hurry, please, mamma." Pierre took his mother's hand and hurried up to the nursery.

"Susan, what has happened P-are your children ill ?" "No, madame-it is-it is from my poor father.

My mother." She could scarcely speak for her sobs. "Is your mother sick ? "

"Oh, she is dead!"

The children began to cry. "My poor Susan, do not cry so. Your mother loved God and has gone to heaven; try and comfort yourself by thinking she is happy now."

"Yes, I will. But I am so sorry I did not see her once more before she died. Oh, I can never see her again.”

"Not in this world, Susan, but in the other-in the otherwhere you will never leave her."

"Don't cry, nursey, I will give you all my pennies," said Henri.

"You are a dear little fellow; but they will not make me happy again."

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Well, don't cry, and I will buy you some gingerbread; you know gingerbread always make's you happy." So, kissing Susan, he ran to get his pennies.

"Love Susan, Henri, and that will make her happier than anything else," said Madame D'Arce, as she left the room for a moment. When she returned she told Susan she could go home, and remain until after the funeral.

"I cannot buy any black clothes; if I do I shall not have any money left to pay my poor father for taking care of my children."

"Do not be troubled; I have just laid off my mourning, and I think I can give you a suit."

"You are so very kind, my dear madame," said Susan, smiling through her tears.

As Madame D'Arce turned to leave the room, she met Henri almost covered up in a black dress and shawl. “What now Henri ? "

"You said you would give some black things to nurse, so I ran to your room and these were lying on the bed; so I've brought them, and I guess they will make Susan glad. I don't want her to cry so."

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But, dear child, I did not tell you to do so."

r

"No, mamma, you did not; but you were so long tha