The feast is over, the lamb has been slain, the doorposts have been sprinkled, the unleavened bread and the bitter herbs have been eaten, and the people are quitting the city and going back to their own homes. Joseph and Mary return,—they are on their way to Nazareth; but Jesus, where is he? Does not the mother's heart yearn for her child? Is not Mary watchful over him, about whom such wonderful things have been uttered? She fancies that he is with some of their kinsfolk or acquaintance; no doubt he has joined some other party, but will soon return. The red sun cast its bright light upon the scene; the red sun sinks, and the evening time comes on; the last streak of day dies away, the pale moon and shining stars are in the deep blue sky, and Jesus has not yet returned.

Then Mary sought her child; there were doubts, misgivings, fears in her heart, as she pressed the question on each one she knew, had they seen Jesus? No; it was always the same; they had seen him in Jerusalem, but not since the feast had ended. Then was sorrow and bitterness for Mary; already it seemed that the words of old Simeon were coming true, and that a sword was piercing through her soul; oh, that Jesus should have escaped the cruelty of Herod, to be at last snatched from her in the spring-time of his life.

Look again into Jerusalem streets; all seems still and quiet, but those two figures, why are they wandering there? They are Mary and Joseph seeking Jesus. For three whole days you watch them in their anxious search; presently they turn towards the temple; in

all its beauty it rises up before them; they leave the busy market and the busy streets, and enter sorrowful its solemn courts. They thought not of its glory, its cedar wood, and plates of solid gold, the beautiful carvings, the cherubim, palm-trees, and flowers; the brazen sea, the brazen oxen, the altar of burnt offerings; the priests and Levites in their robes, that passed and repassed; they had but one thought, one object, one desire, to find the holy child Jesus.

See, they go into that square court, where many a greybeard enters; they stand amid a company of wise and learned men, old men, old by age, and old in their great wisdom. Notice how solemn, and yet how curious, is every face; with what deep interest each one stoops forward, and one bends down, and whispers to an aged brother - these men are the doctors of the law. What are they doing? They are not talking with some learned Egyptian, nor with some wise philosopher, poet, nor great orator, but with a child-a child but twelve years old-a child who, though he sits humbly at their feet, and hears them, and asks them questions, astonishes each one with his wisdom and his answers. The lost child is found in the temple. And as Mary and Joseph recognise Jesus, they are amazed.

unto him, Son, why hast

Behold, thy father and I

"And his mother said thou thus dealt with us? have sought thee sorrowing! And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?' And he went down with them and came to Nazareth."

The actors in that scene are all gone: the temple is destroyed-not one stone remains upon another; but the story will never be forgotten. It has a voice for us, and as we think of that young child among the doctors in His Father's house, it seems to say-Be like Jesus -be like him in his early piety-be like him in his purpose of doing God's work in the world-be like him, thoughtful, earnest, loving, meek, obedient; and let each morning find you wiser and better than the last, that, like him, you may increase in wisdom, and in favour with God and man.

To God who reigns above the sky,

Our Father and our Friend,
To him let all our vows be paid,
And all our prayers ascend.

'Tis he who claims our youthful hearts,
He loves to hear us pray;

By night we'll think upon his love,
And praise him every day.

B. K. C.

The History of a Plant.

CHAPTER II.-WHAT THERE IS IN THE SEED.

THE "History of a Plant" begins with the changes which take place when the seed grows. And changes

most wonderful they are! You put the dry, hard grains, which you had kept perhaps for several years, and had seen no alteration in all the time, unless they became harder and drier,-you put them in the ground, not very deep, and watered them; and after a little time, each grain has changed into a plant, and has a root running down into the mould, and green leaves on a stem which has pushed its way up into the air! If we had never witnessed this, and some one spoke of it, as if it happened only in other countries in which he had travelled, how surprised we should be, and what questions we should ask him! And after all, perhaps, we should think he had made a mistake, and had fancied that tall trees and tiny mosses, waving corn and sweet-scented flowers, had come from seeds.

If I were to show you what there is in the seed, you would soon see how it is that they can turn into plants; but you would not wonder the less at the change. It would seem more wonderful than ever, after you had looked at the preparations made inside the seed, for the time when it would have to grow. I cannot show this to you; I can only describe what is there, and give you a few little drawings, that you may know what I am speaking of; but if you will pay attention to what I say, though you cannot learn

all there is to be known about seeds, you may learn enough to show you, that, not only

"There's not a plant or flower below,

But makes God's glory known,"

but that every part of every plant and flower tells us that the great, and wise, and good God made it.

Let us take an acorn, a nut, or an almond, and strip off both its shell and its skin, (for I have nothing to say to you about them at present,) leaving only the white part of the kernel; that white part is a little plant. This

woodcut (1) represents an almond after both shell and skin are taken away; it has a crease going almost round it, by which you can split it into two parts, and a little beak at the narrow end, which will not split, and which keeps those parts together. If we split it carefully, so as not to break either part off, it will look as I have represented it beside the other at (2). A part of the "beak," as I called it, stands up between the two parts of the kernel, and that is the bud out of which the stem and leaves would grow; out of the "beak" the root would thrust itself down into the ground; and these two parts, standing up