ood, sometimes even great,--but there on high the
springs of human actions are open to view, as well as the real end,
which the author had in mind, and these were always such that those
who had performed the best deeds could be accredited with the least
charitable intention. Their pious works had always been executed in
order to make them conspicuous in the eyes of men, or to attain for
themselves some distinction, or to flatter their vanity, or to arouse
the envy of their neighbours, or to contribute in some indirect way to
the increase of their riches. Perhaps you may not altogether understand
what I mean; but no matter, your mother may explain as much as she
thinks good for you.

"The poor things who were disappointed, as well as the unfortunate
ones for whom no voice was raised, made me very unhappy; but I could do
nothing for them.

"Among the latter I noticed a woman whom I had known well on earth, and
who deserved to be among the lost, I thought. I had never anticipated
any other sentence for her. You do not understand, children, what a
cold heart is; but hers had been either ice or stone. Although she had
possessed more than was needed to gratify her own wants, she could never
be moved by the most touching appeals of the poorest to relieve their
distress. She had used other people to satisfy her selfish desires and
then discarded them ruthlessly. She had gone through life without loving
one single soul--of that I felt convinced--and no one had loved her, and
she had died unregretted. She must have been as wretched on earth as she
was there in Hell; for which of us can be happy here, if we do not love
and are not loved?

"'There is no chance of a voice being raised in her favour,' I said to
myself. But I was wrong; for at that moment a lovely angel-child flew
past me on its blue and white wings. Without any sign of fear it flew
direct to St. Peter, who looked formidable enough with his long
beard and great keys, and, pointing with its little forefinger to the
hard-hearted woman, cried: 'She once gave me a handful of nuts.'

"'Really,' answered the keeper of Heaven. 'That was not much, and yet
I am surprised; for that woman would not part with so much as a pin,
during her life. But you little one, who were you on earth?'

"'Little Hannele was my name,' answered the angel. 'I died of
starvation, and only once did any one give me anything in my life to
make me happy, and that was that woman yonder.'

"'Marvel