ul.

"Arthur," said Edgar, "I want you to have my Bible and my watch; will you?
and keep them always for my sake."

"But, Edgar, you don't _know_ you are going to die; you don't know it for
certain," said Arthur, his voice trembling a little.

"Oh, yes, I do; I know I am dying; but, you know, Arthur, I am only going
to the Lord Jesus, and He wants me so much; for He has died instead of me,
and all my sins are washed away in His precious blood. Cousin Amy used to
sing something so nice; I cannot remember it all, but some of it was
this--

"'Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest,
I wad fain be ganging noo unto my Saviour's breast;
For He gathers in His bosom witless, worthless lambs like me,
And carries them Himsel' to His ain countree.'

"And that is just the way I feel, Arthur. I feel just going to my home;
and I shall never be tired or cross there."

"I'm sure you are not cross here," said Arthur. "Edgar, do tell me about
your getting so happy."

"Oh, yes; and I want to tell you about Cousin Amy too. Well, you know, it
was rather miserable when first I came, and I had to be up here all alone;
and I used to cry so, Arthur, thinking about you--I dare say it was like a
baby; but I could not help it--and about papa. Oh, I did so want to see
papa! and it did not make me happy to think about the Lord Jesus and
heaven. But Cousin Amy came; and she used to sit here and read me little
bits, and hymns; one was that one I said a bit of, and others. And she was
so kind; she used to get me nice cool things to take; and sometimes she
would fan me, and put her hand on my head when it was so hot; and, oh, I
was so sorry when she was gone. One evening I was crying, and then I began
thinking about the last verses she had read to me. You know, it was that
part about the Lord feeding the multitude; and then He sent the disciples
away in a boat, and went by Himself to pray; and I thought if I had been
alive then, and that I had known He was away in that mountain by Himself,
I would have got out of bed, and would have found my way to Him; and it
would have been so nice with nobody there but Himself and me on the great
lonely mountain! I should have felt so safe with Him anywhere. And then I
began to think what He would have said to me; and I thought it would be,
'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' Then I would have
stayed, you know, because He would not send me away. And I thought He