had heard her, and she might not have another
opportunity soon.

Just at that instant a little bird on a tree near the door poured forth
his joy in a gush of glad melody, and Elsie, again running her fingers
lightly over the keys, sang with touching sweetness and pathos--

"Ye banks an' braes o' bonny Doon,
How can ye look sae bright an' fair?
How can you sing, ye little bird,
An' I sae weary, full of care?" etc.

The words seemed to come from her very heart, and her voice, though sweet
and clear, was full of tears.

Chloe sobbed aloud, and Elsie, looking lovingly at her, said softly,
"Don't, dear mammy! I will sing a better one;" and she played and sang--

"He doeth all things well."

Then rising, she closed the instrument, saying, "Now, mammy, let me see
the picture."

Chloe then drew aside the curtain; and Elsie, with clasped hands and
streaming eyes, stood for many minutes gazing upon a life-sized and
speaking portrait of her father.

"Papa! papa!" she sobbed, "my own darling, precious papa! Oh! could you
but know how dearly your little Elsie loves you!"

"Don't now, darlin'! don't take on so dreadful! It jes breaks your ole
mammy's heart to see her chile so 'stressed," Chloe said, passing her arm
around the little girl's waist, and laying her head on her bosom.

"Oh, mammy, will he ever smile on me again? Shall I ever live with him in
this dear home?" sobbed the poor child. "Oh! it is hard, hard to give it
all up--to have papa always displeased with me. Oh, mammy, there is such
a weary aching at my heart--is it _never_ to be satisfied?"

"My poor, poor chile! my poor little pet, I'se _sure_ it'll all come
right by-an'-by," replied Chloe soothingly, as soon as emotion would
suffer her to speak. "You know it is de Lord that sends all our
'flictions, an' you must 'member de pretty words you was jes a singin',
'He doeth _all_ things well.' He says, 'What I do thou knowest not now,
but thou shalt know here after.' De great God can change your father's
heart, and 'cline him to 'spect your principles, and I _do_ blieve he
will do it."

Elsie sobbed out her dread of the boarding-school, with its loneliness
and its temptations.

"Now don't you go for to be 'fraid of all dat, darlin'," replied her
nurse. "Has you forgotten how it says in de good book, 'Lo, I am with you
_always_, even unto the end of the world'? an' if _he_ is with you, who
can hurt you? Jes _nobody_."

A text came to Elsie's mind: "The e