away beyond the reach of our eyes, lose a grand lesson of the almighty power of that God who made it, and who keeps it rolling onwards and onwards until it seems likely to swallow up the land before us and around us. But "thus far and no farther" can the proud waves go. They may roar and toss themselves when the wind and storms lash them into fury, but God hath set them a bound which they cannot pass over; and where all was deep and foaming water when the tide was high, as soon as it is gone down we can again walk upon the hard and golden-coloured sand, and watch the waves ebbing back again into their appointed place. Then there are ships upon this wide world of waters, some sailing far away to distant lands, carrying all sorts of things made in England, and which the people who live in foreign countries will buy in exchange; some ships you see, with all their sails set to

catch the right wind to bring them home again to happy England; and others are lying at anchor, waiting perhaps for goods, perhaps for a favourable wind to go upon their voyage, either homeward, or outward to foreign parts. And this scene, while it pleases the eyes of children, and grownup people too, gives us all plenty to think about. Yes, when we gaze across the sea, and think of the different places where those are going to or coming from, we shall still more wonder at the great world, of which England is but a small island, a little spot of earth in the midst. of a wide and restless ocean. And then to think of the vast multitude of people who live far beyond our sight, and who speak all sorts of languages; whose skin is of many a different colour, and who have all sorts of dresses and customs, some of which are very strange to the eyes of English people. And then this thought comes into the mind of a

Christian, "God hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation." And while we look at the ships gliding without noise over the still and glassy sea, perhaps in one of them there may be some missionaries going to teach our poor heathen fellowcreatures to turn from dumb idols, made of" gold, silver, or stone," that they may worship the true God through His beloved Son Jesus Christ.

But my young friends, who go with their parents to the sea-side in summer and autumn, must not forget that there are many little heathens at home who are almost as ignorant of God and their Saviour as the black children afar off. Often have I seen poor boys going out with bare legs, like the little shrimper in the picture, when the water is low, and working away, pushing their nets before them

to catch the swiftly-darting shrimps, that they may earn a few halfpence for their fathers and mothers. These boys are the children of the poor fishermen, and they often live in the curious little huts close by the beach-side, and during the winter they often suffer great privation, from their fathers having bad success at sea, and very often losing their boats and their lives too, in storms and tempests. Too often I have seen these children go out on the Sabbath, just the same as upon other days of the week, to catch their little stock of shrimps. And now let me tell my young readers what they may do. At least let me say what I do when I walk upon the beach and see these boys I take with me some nice little books, printed by the Tract Society, or some good publisher, and talk to the children about their souls, and where they go to learn about the will of their heavenly Father, and then I slip a little book

into their hands, and ask them to read it. I have never yet had one refused, but often and often troops of little fellows have come running up to meet me, and asked for a book as well as the others who have had them. We like to watch the little shrimpers at their evening work; but let us try what we can do to become

what our Lord told his fishermendisciples he would make them-fishers of men.

A MOTHER PRAYING A SON
HOME.

WHAT thoughts crowd around the heart at the mention of these words! Years may pass away; mountains, rivers, and oceans, may intervene between us and the spot where first we heard a mother's prayers, yet they cannot be lost to me