clouds. Before
her was a female, who was journeying towards that region of light.
Little children were about her, now in her arms, now running by her
side, and as they travelled, she occupied herself in caring for them.
She taught them how to place their little feet--she gave them timely
warnings of the pit-falls--she gently lifted them over the
stumbling-blocks. When they were weary, she soothed them by singing of
that brighter land, which she kept ever in view, and towards which she
seemed hastening with her little flock. But what was most remarkable
was, that, all unknown to her, she was constantly watched by two angels,
who reposed on two golden clouds which floated above her. Before each
was a golden book, and a pen of gold. One angel, with mild and loving
eyes, peered constantly over her right shoulder--another kept as strict
watch over her left. Not a deed, not a word, not a look, escaped their
notice. When a good deed, word, look, went from her, the angel over the
right shoulder with a glad smile, wrote it down in his book; when an
evil, however trivial, the angel over the left shoulder recorded it in
his book--then with sorrowful eyes followed the pilgrim until he
observed penitence for the wrong, upon which he dropped a tear on the
record, and blotted it out, and both angels rejoiced.

To the looker-on, it seemed that the traveller did nothing which was
worthy of such careful record. Sometimes she did but bathe the weary
feet of her little children, but the angel over the _right
shoulder_--wrote it down. Sometimes she did but patiently wait to lure
back a little truant who had turned his face away from the distant
light, but the angel over the _right shoulder_--wrote it down. Sometimes
she did but soothe an angry feeling or raise a drooping eye-lid, or kiss
away a little grief; but the angel over the right shoulder--_wrote it
down_.

Sometimes, her eye was fixed so intently on that golden horizon, and she
became so eager to make progress thither, that the little ones, missing
her care, did languish or stray. Then it was that the angel over the
_left shoulder_, lifted his golden pen, and made the entry, and followed
her with sorrowful eyes, until he could blot it out. Sometimes she
seemed to advance rapidly, but in her haste the little ones had fallen
back, and it was the sorrowing angel who recorded her progress.
Sometimes so intent was she to gird up her loins and have her lamp
trimmed and burning, that the