reely. "There! You see!" cried William.

"Oh, William, I--I had a little boy of my own, and when I look at you, I
think of him, and that is why I cry."

"I know. You have told us of him before. His name was William, too."

She leaned over him, her breath mingling with his; she took his little
hand in hers; "William, do you know that those whom God loves best He
takes first? Were you to die, you would go to Heaven, leaving all the
cares and sorrows of the world behind you. It would have been happier
for many of us had we died in infancy."

"Would it have been happier for you?"

"Yes," she faintly said. "I have had more than my share of sorrow.
Sometimes I think that I cannot support it."

"Is it not past, then? Do you have sorrow now?"

"I have it always. I shall have it till I die. Had I died a child,
William, I should have escaped it. Oh! The world is full of it! full and
full."

"What sort of sorrow?"

"All sorts. Pain, sickness, care, trouble, sin, remorse, weariness," she
wailed out. "I cannot enumerate the half that the world brings upon us.
When you are very, very tired, William, does it not seem a luxury, a
sweet happiness, to lie down at night in your little bed, waiting for
the bliss of sleep?"

"Yes. And I am often tired; so tired as that."

"Then just so do we, who are tired of the world's cares, long for the
grave in which we shall lie down to rest. We _covet_ it, William; long
for it; but you cannot understand that."

"_We_ don't lie in the grave, Madame Vine."

"No, no, child. Our bodies lie there, to be raised again in beauty at
the last day. We go into a blessed place of rest, where sorrow and pain
cannot come. I wish--I wish," she uttered, with a bursting heart, "that
you and I were both there!"

"Who says the world's so sorrowful, Madame Vine? I think it is lovely,
especially when the sun's shining on a hot day, and the butterflies
come out. You should see East Lynne on a summer's morning, when you are
running up and down the slopes, and the trees are waving overhead, and
the sky's blue, and the roses and flowers are all out. You would not
call it a sad world."

"A pleasant world one might regret to leave if we were not wearied
by pain and care. But, what is this world, take it at its best, in
comparison with that other world, Heaven? I have heard of some people
who are afraid of death; they fear they shall not go to it; but when God
takes a little child there it is because He loves