death, which most persons have. She hopes to see her blessed Saviour and all good people, and knows that the other world is far better and happier than this. The minister is often astonished at the conversation of this little girl, and the neighbours shake their heads and say, "she is not long for this world."

We have spoken of the striking contrast between the bloom and the decay of life.

It is interesting to see childhood and old age, side by side, and both made happy by the spirit of the gospel. Mrs. Morley is in a situation which many would think wretched, and yet she is very happy, because she has the love of God shed abroad in her heart. True, she is old and weak and poor. There is no day in which she does not suffer acute pain. Her friends and relatives are almost all dead and gone. She has no wealthy connections, no fine clothes, no rich food, no car

riages, or furniture, or money. She has none of the things which worldly people think necessary to their comfort, yet she is happy. She has treasure in heaven, and her heart is there. Her best friend is there-the friend that sticketh closer than a brother-and she hopes soon to see him. One of her favourite texts is, I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep

that which I have committed to him against that day. 2 Timothy, i. 12.

As long as she was able, this aged believer used to go to the house of God. Her language was, I have loved the habitations of thy house and the place where thine honour dwelleth. At length it became impossible for her to walk so far, or even to be carried. The tears would sometimes come into her eyes, on the Lord's day morning, as she saw the people going by to church. Alas! how many of those who went were entirely destitute of the interest in the worship, which was felt by this afflicted woman! At such times she would say,

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My child, it is not the Lord's will that I should go to his earthly sanctuary, but we may worship him here. Come and read me the forty-second psalm." And then her grandchild, with a sweet, gentle voice, would read:

As the hart panteth after the water-brook, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?

“Oh, my child, I feel those words, and those which follow, and those in the next psalm. My comfort is in the closing words:-Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in God: for I shall

yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance and my God.

But let me pass on to a period somewhat later than that intended in our picture.

One pleasant summer evening, when Agnes had been reading about the way that Christ talked with his disciples after his resurrection, she looked up suddenly from the book and said, "Grandmother, are you afraid to die?"

The old lady gently smiled, and said, as she smoothed down the child's flaxen hair, "My child, I have suffered much from fears of death; but I thank the Lord that he has delivered me from them in a great measure. I have a desire to depart, and to be with Christ. I wish to lay down this poor body, and to see that blessed Saviour, whom I have long been trying to serve."

Agnes was thoughtful a little while, and then said, "Grandmother, I hope I shall be in heaven with you; and then I shall see my own dear mother, and all the good people that I have read about in the Bible.

Such was the thought of this simple-hearted child. There was no affectation or hypocrisy.

She had no notion that there was any thing to be proud of in so natural a wish. It had pleased God to make her the companion of an eminent believer, and to keep her free from all evil example. And, though, like others, she inherited a corrupt nature, it seemed as if grace had, at a very early age, taken possession of her heart, and purified it in a remarkable degree.

"I think you have been reading long enough, my dear," said Mrs. Morley; "you have looked pale all day; go into the garden, and play about a little among the pleasant flowers. I am afraid this staying in the house will do you harm. It would be sad indeed if you were to lose your health by waiting on a poor, old, good-for-nothing body like me."

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"I love to wait upon you, grandmother."

"I know you do, Agnes, and I love you for it; but you must take care of yourself, that you may be able to do the more good after I am dead and gone."

“Oh, grandmother, who will take care of me, when you are dead and gone?"

"The Lord will provide, my child."

Agnes went out among the flowers, and gathered

In the

a beautiful nosegay for her grandmother. meantime, the old lady sat gazing upon the evening

light, which brake in behind her through the western window, and played upon the opposite wall. She mused on many things, but chiefly on what the child had said. I am soon to leave the world, thought she, and, it is true enough, the poor little orphan has no one on earth to depend upon.

It was not long before Agnes ran in with her nosegay, and, leaning on her grandmother's arm, said, "Oh, grandmother, shall I tell you what I thought while I was picking the roses?"

"Yes, my child, let me hear it."

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Well, then, I will tell you, it came into my mind all at once, that perhaps I shall die before you."

Mrs. Morley looked earnestly at the little girl, and was very much disturbed. "It is possible, Agnes; we never know when we shall be called; but it is not very likely. However, let us both say, the will of the Lord be done!" But the thought was too painful for her, and, even while she spoke, she observed more particularly the clear whiteness of the child's cheek, the pearly look of her teeth, and the uncommon brilliancy of her eyes. All these are the beautiful signs of a stealthy and fatal disease. Aged as I am, said Mrs. Morley to herself, I may live to be bereaved; and then it is I who shall be the orphan.