ut her victory
was one which, like the spiritual sweetness in the face of the dying, had
something of sadness for the living heart.

He opened the door and came in, sat down by her on the floor, and laid
his head in her lap.

"Mother, you never rest; you never stop working."

"Oh, no!" she said gaily, "I'm just going to stop now. I had only a few
last things I wanted to get done."

"Mother, I can't bear to think of you; your life is too hard. We all have
our amusements, our rests, our changes; your work is never done; you are
worn out, and get no time to read, no time for anything but drudgery."

"Don't say drudgery, my boy--work done for those we love _never_ is
drudgery. I'm so happy to have you all around me I never feel it."

"But, mother, you are not strong, and I don't see how you can hold out to
do all you do."

"Well," she said simply, "when my strength is all gone I ask God for
more, and he always gives it. 'They that wait on the Lord shall renew
their strength.'" And her hand involuntarily fell on the open Bible.

"Yes, I know it," he said, following her hand with his eyes--while
"Mother," he said, "I want you to give me your Bible and take mine. I
think yours would do me more good."

There was a little bright flush and a pleased smile on his mother's face--

"Certainly, my boy, I will."

"I see you have marked your favorite places," he added. "It will seem
like hearing you speak to read them."

"With all my heart," she added, taking up the Bible and kissing his
forehead as she put it into his hands.

There was a struggle in his heart how to say farewell without saying it--
without letting her know that he was going to leave her. He clasped her
in his arms and kissed her again and again.

"Mother," he said, "if I ever get into heaven it will be through you."

"Don't say that, my son--it must be through a better Friend than I am--
who loves you more than I do. I have not died for you--He did."

"Oh, that I knew where I might find him, then. You I can see--Him I
cannot."

His mother looked at him with a face full of radiance, pity, and hope.

"I feel sure you _will_" she said. "You are consecrated," she added, in a
low voice, laying her hand on his head.

"Amen," said James, in a reverential tone. He felt that she was at that
moment--as she often was--silently speaking to One invisible of and for
him, and the sense of it stole over him like a benediction. There was a
pause of tender silenc