"And our lost darling?" Bessie's mother began to ask, and looked in Aunt Annie's eyes.
"Our Bessie's flowers do not fade now; there is no cold winter in heaven; she cannot lose her treasures there. And hasn't she grown more useful and lovely, living among the angels all this while?"
Then, from afar in the woods, they heard the low, sweet voice, that thrilled forth, "Coming, coming!" and Bessie's mother smiled, and said, "She cannot come to us, but we soon shall go to her; and O, our darling's hand in ours, how gladly shall we walk in the Eternal Garden!"
Caroline S. Whitmarsh.
HOW THE CRICKETS BROUGHT GOOD FORTUNE.
My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him. He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor, but perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it into the arms of the little boy.
My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.