wn among rock and fern, reached the
little stream, and was soon wading about in its bed, enjoying the
sensation of the soft, warm water flowing over her bare feet, and
pulling the little flowering water-plants that raised their heads
among the moss-grown logs and stones which lay in the bed of the
stream. Then she began to climb up on the other side, stopping to
examine with admiring eyes every velvety cushion of moss, and cluster
of tiny ferns, and fairy-like baby pine or maple, and picking with
eager hands the wild roses and other blossoms which she espied among
the tangled underwood.

At last, tired with her wanderings, and with hands full of her
treasures, she threw herself down on a bed of dry moss that carpeted
the top of a high bank of rock which overlooked the river winding away
beneath, while overhead, through the feathery sprays of the long,
straggling pine boughs, the slanting sunbeams flickered on the turf
below.

There, in that solitary stillness--all the stiller for the confused
murmur of soft sounds, and the fresh, sweet breath of the woods
perfuming the air--unaccustomed thoughts came into the little girl's
mind,--thoughts which, in the din and bustle of the city, where the
tide of human interests sufficed to fill up her undeveloped mind, had
scarcely ever entered it. But here, where the direct works of God
alone were around her, her mind was irresistibly drawn towards Him of
whom Miss Preston had told her, that He had made her and all she saw
around her, and who lived, she supposed, somewhere beyond that blue
sky. With so many pleasant things around her, the thought of their
Maker was pleasant too. But then Miss Preston had told her that God
loved what was good, but hated what was bad; and did not her new
mother constantly tell her she was a "bad child?"--an accusation in
which her conscience told her there was much truth. So God could not
love her, she thought.

But Miss Preston had said that God did love her--that He cared for her
continually, and wished to make her good and happy--that He had even,
in some strange way which she could not understand, sent His Son to
die for her, that she might be made good. It was all new and strange,
but she had faith in Miss Preston; and because she had told her, she
believed it must be true, that she, who had come to think
herself--poor child--too bad for any one to care for, had really a
great, kind Friend near her, though she could not see Him, and loving
he