ied
Charley, in a voice tremulous with agitation.

The consciousness of his surroundings had dawned so slowly on the rapt
soul, the patient face had turned toward his brother's so calmly, he was
so meek and quiet, so undemonstrative usually, that he was totally
unprepared for the wild burst of passionate weeping with which Harry
threw himself upon his neck.

'Oh! Charley, Charley, I cannot find it, I cannot see the land you talk
of. I know it must be there, where the sky is clear and the sun is
shining; but I've been looking, and I can't see it anywhere. Oh!
Charley, where is it? Where is the place up yonder where they are good
and happy? Show me the way there, show me the way. I don't want to stay
_here_,' sobbed Harry, coming back to his own hopeless self again; 'I
want to go somewhere where folks don't have to be lonesome all the time;
I don't know what dying is, but if dying will do it, I want dying to
take me there.'

He had drawn his brother toward him, wiped his tears away with his own
little apron, and soothed him as well as his agitation would permit,
striving, amid the tumult of his thoughts, to gather up such meagre
scraps of information as he had gleaned upon the subject, and put it
into intelligible words, when, from a window almost hidden by the leaves
of the tree under which they were sitting, they heard a voice calling
to them, a familiar voice, but with a new tone in it, which quickens
their pulse-beat, and makes their hearts throb with a sweet joy. Dimly
visible through the foliage, a familiar face is looking down upon them,
loving and tender as any mother's face should be; and with that look,
the strong instinctive love for her which nature had implanted in their
hearts awoke in all its strength. Pride, anger, sorrow, were all alike
forgotten. To her loving call there came from eager lips the ready
response:

'Yes, mamma; we are coming, dear mamma.'

Those who are blessed with golden memories of a happy childhood,
perchance but lightly prize Heaven's brightest, choicest gift. Those who
have never felt the hungering and thirsting of a heart deprived of
sympathy and kindness, the desolate pining of that state more sorrowful
than orphanage, can but feebly, faintly guess how tender tones and soft
caresses, loving words and looks, such common blessings as awaken in the
happy thought of gratitude, were treasured up in these lonely hearts as
gifts of priceless value, or measure the deep thankfulness wh