eered with sunny smiles and artless conversation,
"few will be the years of Willie M----; he is one of God's angels lent
to earth!" and her tears fell at the prophetic thought that even she
would live to see his winsome wee face hid beneath the coffin's lid.

* * * * *

A group of young children stood around his bed, gazing with fearful
wonder on the change that had been wrought in their loved playmate. He
had begged of his mamma to send for them, that he might see them once
more; and his large, spiritual eye had looked its welcome on each of
that little band. Once he had hunted with them the early violet in the
glade and dingle; once the echoes of his voice rang merrily out as
they bounded over the greensward in chase of the bright, illusive
butterfly--and his heart grew sad as he felt that he should be with
them no more. A little hand was laid caressingly upon his head--it
was Gary Lincoln, and as he turned around to look upon her he saw that
her eyes were full of tears. "Why do you cry, Gary?" said he. "Because
mamma says that you are going away to Heaven," she replied, "and I
cannot bear to think of it--don't go, Willie, don't go!" and the tears
streamed down her young face like rain. It was her first sorrow.

Willie spoke not, but a grieved, yet tender expression rested on his
countenance, and his mamma, taking a hand of each within her own, told
her that if she were good, if they all were good children, they should
go to Willie--although he might not stay with them. She told them of
the glorious home to which he was hastening--how happy he would
be--never to suffer more--of the white robe--the starry crown and the
tiny golden harp that should be his--and how he would be their
guardian angel, through day and hush of night, and how joyfully he
would welcome each one to his happy home.

That mother's heart was bursting, and yet her absorbing love for her
child nerved her to this, and as she told of that clime where "the
soul wears its mantle of glory," the little sufferer's eye grew so
intensely bright that it seemed unearthly. Visions of Heaven seemed
opened to his view, and with a face radiant with delight he clasped
his hands, and said, "Dear mamma, let me go now." "We must wait, my
child, till God sends his angels for you." "Yes," he murmured, "till
the angels come," and sunk exhausted into a slumber. Slowly and
quietly the children departed--and when next they looked upon him he
was shrouded