ence in that alone could have
made it possible for a certain little miss, who, when being put to bed
in a tired condition, and asked to say her prayer, began:--

"This night I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord----"

then gave a long, loud yawn, and added, "Oh God, I am awfully
sleepy--you know the rest"--making thus, in her rude simplicity, a
finely trustful and beautiful prayer. "Give us each day our daily
bread," was the honest petition of a little fellow--who, however,
recalling probably some recent violent experiences, immediately
added--"but dinna let our Lizzie bake it." An elaborately-trained little
fellow who had nightly to pray for blessings on "mamma, and papa,
grandpapa, and grandmamma," and all his uncles, his aunts, and his
cousins, committing each by name, after exhausting the catalogue one
evening, heaved a heavy sigh and exclaimed wearily, "Oh, dear, I wish
these people would pray for themselves, for I am so tired of praying for
them all!"

A little girl, whose baby brother had died, was told that he had gone to
Heaven, and that night she refused to pray--"Take me to Heaven for
Jesus' sake"--because, as she said; "I don't want to go to Heaven, I
want to stay here, with ma, and pa, and dolly." Were all prayers as
honest, many of them, I suspect, would be much shorter than they are.

I have heard of a little boy who was continually being told that he
should be good.

"And if I am gooder, and gooder," he asked, "what will I be?"

"Oh, you will be a little angel."

"But I don't want to be an angel," he retorted; "I want to be an
engine-driver." They are never else than frank in their statements. A
mother who suffers from severe headaches, said to her little girl about
eight, one day not long ago, "What would you do, Lottie dear, if your
darling mother was taken away from you--if she died?" "Well, mother,"
was the little one's startling answer, "I suppose we would cry at
first--then we would bury you, and then we would come home and take all
the money out of your pocket." Now, while it is possible that something
else might also be done, it is almost certain--yea, it is certain,
without doubt--that all these ceremonials, however reluctantly, would,
in turn, be duly performed.

From a story bearing on death to one relating to birth is a transition
not so unnatural as may at the first blush appear. And births are
affairs ever of prime interest to children. Not many years ago it
happened in a v