The evangelist Luke gives us a very interesting narrative about the child Jesus Christ. It is contained in the latter part of the second chapter of his Gospel, and is as follows. "Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of the passover. And when he was twelve

years old, they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast. And when they had fulfilled the days, as they returned, the child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusalem; and Joseph and his mother knew not of it. But they, supposing him to have been in the company, went a day's journey; and they sought him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance. And when they found him not, they turned back again to Jerusalem, seeking him. And it came to pass, that after three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions. And all that heard. him were astonished at his understanding and answers. And when they saw him, they were amazed and his mother said unto him, Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and I 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 they understood not the saying which he spake unto them. And he went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject unto them: but his mother kept all these sayings in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man."

There are two or three particulars in this narrative which I should like to notice.

The place where the child Jesus was found. It was not in any such place as a public-house or a theatre. O no, he would not be found there. Nor in the streets, playing, though it is not wrong for children to play, at proper times and in proper places. He was found in the temple. If any of the youthful readers of the Juvenile

Companion were missed by their parents, I wonder where they would go to find them. Perhaps they would say, "Now that boy is gone out in the street again." But I hope your parents would not have to go to any places of sinful resort to find you. The child Jesus was found in the temple; and I hope you may often be found, especially on the Lord's-day, in those places where " prayer is wont to be made."

The child Jesus was found "sitting in the midst of the doctors." Here again is an example for our young readers. Keep good company. Avoid the society of the wicked. "Evil communications corrupt good manners." "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but the companion of fools shall be destroyed."

When he was found. He was "sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions." "Hearing them." He paid attention to what they said. So must you pay attention to what your parents and teachers say. "And asking them questions." A wise man was once asked how he acquired so much knowledge; he replied, that it was by never being ashamed to enquire about that of which he was ignorant.

"All that heard him were astonished at his understanding and answers.' Seek to obtain understanding and information for yourselves. Knowledge is more valuable than gold; and in order to possess it, we must seek for it, for it will not come of itself. The wisest man that ever lived was as ignorant in infancy as any other child. "If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for understanding; if thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures; then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God."

"And he went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject unto them." He did not wish to stay in Jerusalem among the doctors, though he was so much honoured; he was subject to his supposed father, and to his mother. Thus he has "left us an example, that we should follow his steps." "Children, obey your parents in all things: for this is well pleasing unto the Lord."

"And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man." Are you increasing in wisdom as well as in stature? You would not like to be dwarfs in bodily stature, but after all, "The soul's the stature of the man.' The growth of our mind depends on our efforts. If you exercise your mental faculties, they will be strengthened. Seek to increase in wisdom as well as in stature. The "child Jesus" increased, also, "in favour with God and man." Endeavour to be pious and amiable, then God and all good men will love you. S. S.

[Note. By inadvertance, last month, the word ". youngest", was erroneously put before the word "Joseph" on page 118, line 24, from the top. The reader is requested to run his pen across the words. Benjamin was the "youngest.”]

THE TEA ROSE.

BY MRS. H. E. BEECHER STOWE.

Author of "Uncle Tom's Cabin."

PART I.

THERE it stood in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand, in the window of the drawing-room. The rich satin curtains, with their costly fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it glittered every rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer to luxury, and yet that simple rose was the fairest of them all. So pure it looked-its white leaves just touched with that delicious creamy tint, peculiar to its kind, its cup so full, so perfect, its head bending as if it were sinking and melting away in its own richness-when did man ever make anything like the living perfect flower.

But the sunlight that streamed through the window revealed something fairer than the rose. Reclining on an ottoman, in a deep recess, and intently engaged with a book, lay what seemed the living counterpart of that lovely flower. The cheek so pale, so spiritual, the face so full of high thought, the fair forehead, the long, downcast lashes, and the expression of the beautiful mouth, so sorrowful, yet so subdued and sweet-it seemed like the picture of a dream.

"Florence Florence!" echoed a merry and musical voice, in a sweet, impatient tone. Turn your head, reader, and you will see a dark and sparkling maiden, the very model of some little wilful elf, born of mischief and motion, with a dancing eye, a foot that scarcely seemed to touch the carpet, and a smile so multiplied by dimples, that it seemed like a thousand smiles at once. Come, Florence, I say," said the little fairy, put down that wise, good, excellent volume, and talk with a poor little mortal-come, descend from your cloud, my dear."

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The fair apparition thus adjured, obeyed, and looked up, revealed just the eyes you expected to see beneath such lids; eyes deep, pathetic, and rich as a strain of sad music.

"I say, cousin," said the darke ladye,' "I've been thinking what you are to do with your pet rose when you go to New York-as to our great consternation you are going to do-you know it would be a sad pity to leave it with such a scatterbrain as I am. I do love flowers, that's a fact; that is, I like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry to a party; but as to all this tending and fussing that is necessary to keep them growing, I've no gifts in that line."

"Make yourself quite easy as to that, Kate," said Florence with a smile, "I've no intention of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum for my favourite."

"Oh, then you know just what I was going to say: Mrs. Marshall, I presume, has been speaking to you; she was here yesterday, and I was very pathetic upon the subject, telling her the loss your favourite would sustain, and so forth, and she said how delighted she should be to have it in her green-house, it is in such a fine state now, so full of buds. I told her I knew you would like it of all things. to give it to her; you were always so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know."

"Nay, Kate, I'm sorry, but I have otherwise engaged it." "Who can it be? You have so few intimates here." "Oh, only one of my odd fancies."

"But do tell me, Florence."

"Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give sewing."

“What, little Mary Stephens ? How absurd! This is just of a piece, Florence, with your other motherly, old-maidish ways dressing dolls for poor children, making caps, and knitting socks for all the dirty little babies in the region round about. I do believe that you have made more calls in those two vile, ill-smelling alleys back of our house, than ever you have in Chestnutstreet, though you know everybody has been half-dying to see you; and now, to crown all, you must give this choice little bijou to a semstress girl, when one of your most intimate friends, in your own class, would value it so highly. What in the world can people in their circumstances want with flowers?"

"Just the same that I do," replied Florence calmly. "Have you never noticed that the little girl never comes here without looking wistfully at the opening buds; and don't you remember the morning when she asked me so prettily if I would let her mother come and see it, she was so fond of flowers?"

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But, Florence, only think of this rare flower standing on a table, with ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled in the close little room where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to wash, iron, cook, and nobody knows what besides."

“Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room, and wash, iron, and cook, as you say; if I had to spend every moment of my time in hard toil, with no prospect from my window but a brick sidewalk or a dirty lane, such a flower as this would be untold happiness to me."

"Pshaw, Florence--all sentiment; poor people have no time to be sentimental; besides, I don't think it will grow with them-it is a green-house flower, and used to delicate living."

"Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its owner be rich or poor; and Mrs. Stephens, whatever