well, and on Wednesday
he laid aside his garment of mortality, and put on the beautiful robes
made white in the blood of the Lamb, in the spirit-world. He was a
lovely child when he dwelt with us here below; how very lovely he must
be in the bright world to which he has gone!

His mother often weeps when she thinks of him, and she misses him more
than any one but a mother can. There is no one to play with his
blocks, or his tin horses, or his pretty rabbit. Yet Willie is very
happy, and his mother has no wish to recall him to earth, lonely and
desolate as is their once cheerful home.

Willie will shed no more tears. He will never feel sad or lonely. He
will suffer neither pain, nor hunger, nor weariness. But we, who love
him, may weep, as did Jesus when Lazarus lay in the grave; and we
shall never forget the sweet child, so full of life and love, who was
given us for a little while, and then taken home to glory.

Dear children, who read about Willie, are you prepared to follow him
and Charley, where they are gone to dwell with that Saviour who, when
he was on earth, took little children in his arms, and blessed them,
and said, "_of such is the kingdom of heaven_?"

[Illustration]

WIDOW CAHOON AND HER GRANDSON.

"I wish to make a call in ---- street," said a lady to me, as we
together were visiting some of the poor of the city. "There is a Mrs.
Smith living there, a poor old woman nearly eighty years old. She is
infirm and partially blind. She has a little grandson, and she has no
means with which to take care of him. We hope to persuade her to give
him to us, and let us find a good home, by adoption, for him."

It was a warm winter's morning. Snow had fallen the day before, but it
was rapidly disappearing. The foot sank in the melting mass at every
step. The crossings were muddy, and it required some skill to pick our
way along dry-shod.

We turned into the street, and sought for the number which had been
given us. We found it on the door of a low, shed-like building, old
and out of repair.

"Does Mrs. Smith live here?" we inquired.

"No, ma'am."

"Is there an old lady, who is almost blind, and who has a little
grandson, in the house?"--we further asked, thinking Mrs. Smith might
not be known by name.

"No, ma'am. There is no such person here."

"Does she live in the neighbourhood?"

"She may be in No. ----."

We made inquiries at several doors, dodging in quickly to avoid the
great drops