A Child's Prayer For Papa.

A drunkard, who had run through his property, returned one night to his

unfurnished house. He entered his empty hall. Anguish was gnawing at his

heart-strings, and language was inadequate to express his agony as he

entered his wife's apartment, and there beheld the victims of his

appetite, his loving wife and a darling child. Morose and sullen, he

seated himself without saying a word; he could not speak; he could not

ok up then. The mother said to the little angel at her side, "Come, my

child, it is time to go to bed;" and that little baby, as she was wont,

knelt by her mother's lap and gazing wistfully into the face of her

suffering parent, like a piece of chiseled statuary, slowly repeated her

nightly orison. When she had finished, the child (but four years of age)

said to her mother, "Dear Mother, may I not offer up one more prayer?"

"Yes, yes, my sweet pet, pray;" and she lifted up her tiny hands, closed

her eyes, and prayed: "O God! spare, oh! spare my dear papa!" That

prayer was lifted with electric rapidity to the throne of God. It was

heard on high--it was heard on earth. The responsive "Amen!" burst from

the father's lips, and his heart of stone became a heart of flesh. Wife

and child were both clasped to his bosom, and in penitence he said: "My

child, you have saved your father from the grave of a drunkard. I'll

sign the pledge!"