ded her hands round the Bible, which
she opened, and read aloud to the sick woman; now and again the tears
welled forth, but her eyes shone clearer, even as the darkness cleared
from her soul. "Mother, thy child shall not receive the baptism of the
Christians, shall not be named in their communion; in this we will be
united here on earth, but above this there is--is a greater unity--even
in God. 'He goes with us beyond the grave'; 'It is He who pours water
upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground.' I understand
it! I do not know myself how I came to it! through Him it is--in
Him--Christ!"

And she trembled as she named the holy name; a baptism of fire streamed
through her, stronger than her frame could bear, and she bent down, more
powerless even than she by whom she watched.

"Poor Sarah!" they said; "she is worn out with labor and watching."

They took her to the hospital for the poor; there she died; thence she
was borne to her grave; not to the Christians' graveyard; that was not
the place for the Jewish girl: no, outside, by the wall, her grave was
dug.

And God's sun, which shone upon the graves of the Christians, shines
also upon that of the Jewish girl; and the hymns which are sung by the
graves of the Christians resound by her grave beyond the wall; thither,
too, reaches the promise: "There is resurrection in Christ, in Him, the
Saviour, who said to his disciples, 'John truly baptized with water; but
ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost.'"

THE STORY OF A MOTHER

By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

A mother sat by her little child: she was very sorrowful, and feared
that it would die. Its little face was pale, and its eyes were closed.
The child drew its breath with difficulty, and sometimes so deeply as if
it were sighing; and then the mother looked more sorrowfully than before
on the little creature.

Then there was a knock at the door, and a poor old man came in, wrapped
up in something that looked like a great horse-cloth, for that keeps
warm; and he required it, for it was cold winter. Without, everything
was covered with ice and snow, and the wind blew so sharply that it cut
one's face.

And as the old man trembled with cold, and the child was quiet for a
moment, the mother went and put some beer on the stove in a little pot,
to warm it for him. The old man sat down and rocked the cradle, and the
mother seated herself on an old chair by him, looked at her sick child
that dr