ir life
Is full of grief and care;
You do not know one half the woes
The very poor must bear;
You do not see the silent tears
By many a mother shed,
As childhood offers up the prayer,
'Give us our daily bread.'"

LITTLE CHARLEY.

Charley was a sweet little babe. It was a pleasure to kiss his plump
cheek, and pat his fat and dimpled arms. He was a dear babe, and we
all loved him, and our blessed Saviour loved him even more than we
did.

Before Charley was two years old, he became ill. All that physicians
could do was done for him, but he daily grew more and more feeble. The
bright blue eyes lost their brilliancy, and became faded and dim. The
plump and rosy cheek became hollow and pale. The fat and rounded limbs
grew thin and weak, and we all felt that little Charley would soon be
taken from us.

The same sweet smile lingered about his mouth, although pain and
suffering had saddened that baby-face. He no longer tottered about the
floor, but was confined constantly to his bed. Not there even was he
to remain more than a few short weeks. The angel of death came, and
bore him to the Saviour's bosom. His friends looked at the beautiful
casket, and felt that the spirit which had inhabited it, and made it
precious, was no more there. They committed it tearfully to the grave,
and, lonely and sorrowing, returned to their desolate home. The crib
was vacant--the tiny shoe had no owner--the rattle lay neglected.
There was no need of the noiseless step lest the sleeper should be
awakened. Little Charley slept in death.

How sad and broken those loving hearts! Those parents were Christian
parents, and they sorrowed not as those without hope. Jesus, their
Saviour, had wept, and they knew their tears were not forbidden. One
of the cords which bound them to earth was snapped asunder. They had
one child in heaven, there to be a pure and sinless spirit in the
immediate presence of his Father--God. There was comfort in the
thought that Charley's tiny bark had safely passed over the sea of
life, and was securely anchored in the haven of eternal rest.

Charley had a brother, Willie, two years older than himself. Little
could he know of death--but he knew he had no baby-brother now, and
his mother told him Charley was in heaven.

"I hope, mother," said he, "the apostles will not get him."

"Why, my child?"

"Because they did not want little children to go to Jesus," was his
artless r