is that of the lost son. piece of money that was dropped, nor a poor sheep devoid of reason that had gone astray, but a beloved child who had left his father's house.

Here it was not a senseless

It is a melancholy tale, but full of consolation for returning sinners. Here was a young man, grown up and making his own deliberate choice-a son straying from the home of his childhood; discontented with the good order and wholesome restraints of his father's house, where he enjoyed comfort and abundance, and was kept from every evil, and begging to have his portion of goods, that he might go and seek happiness in his own way, or, as our Prayer Book says, might "follow the devices and desires of his own heart." Alas! how little do the young understand their real good, who thus give themselves up to their own guidance; who desire to be soon their own masters, and dislike that parental oversight which God has appointed for their safety and happiness! But this young man, like many others, was ignorant and foolish: he would not learn wisdom from his elders, but would buy it for himself by his own experience. Let us watch the result. His patrimony, I mean that share of his father's possessions which would one day have been his, was, as he requested, given to him at once; and he took it, and went away from his father's sight into a far country, where he got into bad company and riotous habits, and soon wasted all that he had in dissipation and intemperance. What must have been his feelings now! Oh that he had remained at his dear home, and left his portion of goods in his father's hands to be employed, as paternal love and wisdom saw fit, in promoting his real happiness! He was now

pennyless; and to add to his misery, "when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land, and he began to be in want."

E. Oh, Mamma, what would he do now?

M. His situation was a distressing one indeed. An idle, dissipated young man was not likely to find either friends or respectable employment. His riotous companions, as is usually the case with all such companions, deserted him. Occupation however at last he did obtain; but what sort of occupation do you think? A citizen of that country moved by his entreaties so far took notice of him that he sent him into his fields to feed swine? In any country this is regarded as one of the meanest occupations; but amongst the Jews it was not mean only, it was against their law, unholy. What a transition! The extravagant, gay, and luxurious young man earnestly begging such an employment from a stranger! He who had wasted so much on banquets, now feeding swine in order to satisfy his own hunger; yea envying the very swine the husks that they were eating, but compelled to wait till his day's work was over. He was now less an object of concern than the swine; they were fed while he fasted: if others employed in the same fields had their repast amidst their work, they thought not of his want," and no man gave unto him.”

E. But why had he not thought of going back to his home and seeking relief there?

M. Alas! sin perverts the feelings and darkens the understanding. Perhaps he wanted the wisdom, or perhaps the humility, that such a step required.. He was, in a moral point of view, beside himself: his heart was infatuated with his evil courses.

But his present distress, so multiplied, so galling, so bitter, brought him at last to his senses. It pleased God to bless it to him. His eyes were at length opened, and he began to think and to speak as a rational being. "And when he came to himself, he said, how many hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father and say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.”

E. I suppose he was sure his father would receive him?

M. He expected, it seems, to be received, but not as a son. He had met with so little kindness in the world, that he no longer looked for much tenderness even at home, though he knew that his father was good and kind. What then must have been his surprise, his joy, as he approached his home, that home which he had so foolishly left, to see his father coming to meet him!" For when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him," embracing with fervent affection a child who had so little revered his invaluable guidance and protection! But the father was full of pity and the son happily was full of peniFor though he was now assured of his father's forgiveness, though he had been received, not as a servant, but as a son, yet did he not forget to humble himself as he had determined. No; his father's readiness to be pacified only made him the more deeply ashamed of his past offences against him, and he interrupts the affectionate embraces of his parent

tence.

with the most humble confessions of his unworthiness: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.” It is said in scripture, "he that humbleth himself shall be exalted ;" and so it proved now. "No more worthy,” said the young man, "to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet."

The very confession of unworthiness added to the father's joy, for it was a proof of his son's repentance. What indeed should a father seek on such occasions but his child's recovery? Once satisfied of that— that he who had been dead to virtue and to shame, was now alive again; that, though lost in folly and sin, he was found-he gave way to the utmost joy, and called upon his family and friends to rejoice with him, until the whole house resounded with a holy mirth.

E. It is a delightful story, Mamma: but do you think it is true? or only a parable, as you said?

M. I cannot tell you whether this affecting narrative of the prodigal son was really a true account of something that had really happened. It is possible that the case was one known to our Lord's hearers; but we can neither assert nor deny it. In one sense indeed it is too true. Too often do young men bring themselves to ruin by a love of pleasure and a dislike to parental content. In this view of the story we might learn from it the folly of youthful impetuosity, the dangers of the world, the value of home with all its endearing ties, as well as other most interesting and important lessons. But the chief use we are to

make of it is in applying it to the mercy of our heavenly Father in receiving back all repentant sinners, notwithstanding all the folly and perverseness of their former conduct, and the wretched state into which their sins have brought them.

Our Lord spoke the parable, because the Pharisees and Scribes murmured at His receiving publicans and sinners. Jesus does not deny that He received them; but justifies the ways of God, by showing what even a human parent would do in regard to the recovery of a lost child. For publicans and sinners may be lost, but still they are lost children, and will not God rejoice over their return?

Only let them truly repent, as the prodigal did; only let them trust in their heavenly Father's mercy through Christ; only let them turn their back upon their evil ways and hasten home; then may they rest assured that they too will be received, and not only received, but welcomed with joy and gladness. Their sins shall then be covered, their souls clothed with righteousness, and all their poverty, wretchedness, and misery changed into peace and joy.

But we have not yet done altogether with this affecting parable. The prodigal was the younger, you know, of two sons.

At the time of his return his elder brother was in the field; and as he came home and drew nigh unto the house, he heard music and dancing, the sounds of that rejoicing with which his father's house resounded at his lost brother's return: but "he was angry, and would not

E. How very unkind!

go in."

M. And very wrong undoubtedly; yet, I fear, not unnatural. There is scarcely any affection like that