"Oh no, sir; Father is gone up there and I am going."

Up _there_! John Harvey turned unconsciously towards his friend.

"Did you ever hear of Jesus?" asked John Harvey's friend.

"Oh yes."

"Do you know who he was?"

"_Good Jesus_," murmured the child.

"Hawkins, this breaks me down," said John Harvey and he placed his handkerchief to his eyes.

"Don't cry, don't cry; I can't cry, I'm so glad," said the child exultingly.

"What are you glad for, my dear?" asked John Harvey's friend.

"To get away from here," she said deliberately. "I used to be so cold in the winter, for we didn't have fire sometimes; but mother used to hug me close and sing about heaven. Mother told me to never mind and kissed me and said if I was His, the Savior would love me and one of these days would give me a better home, and so I gave myself to Him, for I wanted a better home. And, oh, I shall sing there and be so happy!"

With a little sigh she closed her eyes.

"Harvey, are faith and hope nothing?" asked Mr. Hawkins.

"Don't speak to me, Hawkins; to be as that little child I would give all I have."

"And to be like her you need give nothing--only your stubborn will, your skeptical doubts, and the heart that will never know rest till at the feet of Christ."

There was no answer. Presently the hands moved, the arms were raised, the eyes opened--yet, glazed though they were they turned still upward.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"See!" she cried; "Oh, there is mother! and angels! and they are all singing." Her voice faltered, but the celestial brightness lingered yet on her face.

"There is no doubting the soul-triumph there," whispered Mr. Hawkins.

"It is wonderful," replied John Harvey, looking on both with awe and tenderness. "Is she gone?"

He sprang from his chair as if he would detain her; but the chest and forehead were marble now, the eyes had lost the fire of life; she must have died as she lay looking at them.

"She was always a sweet little thing," said the nurse softly.

John Harvey stood as if spell-bound. There was a touch on his arm; he started.

"John," said his friend, with an affectionate look, "shall we pray?"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

For a minute there was no answer--then came tears; the whole frame of the subdued skeptic shook as he said--it was almost a cry: "Yes, pray, pray!"

And from the side of the dead child went up agonizing pleadings to the throne of G.o.d. And that prayer was answered--the miracle was wrought-- the lion became a lamb--the doubter a believer--the skeptic a Christian!

--A Tract.

HOW THREE SUNDAY SCHOOL CHILDREN MET THEIR FATE

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The children saw their fate. They then knelt down and commenced to pray."]

When the Lawrence Mills were on fire a number of years ago--I don't mean on fire, but when the mill fell in--the great mill fell in, and after it had fallen in, the ruins caught fire, there was only one room left entire, and in it were three Mission Sunday School children imprisoned.

The neighbors and all hands got their shovels and picks and crowbars and were working to set the children free. It came on night and they had not yet reached the children. When they were near them, by some mischance the lantern broke, and the ruins caught fire. They tried to put it out, but could not succeed. They could talk with the children, and even pa.s.s to them some refreshments, and encourage them to keep up. But, alas, the flames drew nearer and nearer to the prison. Superhuman were the efforts made to rescue the children; the men bravely fought back the flames; but the fire gained fresh strength, and returned to claim its victims. Then piercing shrieks arose when the spectators saw that the efforts of the firemen were hopeless. The children saw their fate. They then knelt down and commenced to sing the little hymn we have all been taught in our Sunday School days. Oh! how sweet: "Let others seek a home below, which flames devour and waves overflow." The flames had now reached them; the stifling smoke began to pour into their little room, and they began to sink, one by one, upon the floor. A few moments more and the fire circled around them, and their souls were taken into the bosom of Christ. Yes, let others seek a home below if they will, but seek ye the Kingdom of G.o.d with all your hearts.

--Moody's Anecdotes

HE BLESSES G.o.d FOR THE FAITH OF HIS LITTLE GIRL

"I came home one night very late," says Brother Matthew Hale Smith (in his "Marvels of Prayer"), "and had gone to bed to seek needed rest. The friend with whom I boarded awoke me out of my first refreshing sleep, and informed me that a little girl wanted to see me. I turned over in bed and said:

"'I am very tired, tell her to come in the morning and I will see her.'

"My friend soon returned and said:

"'I think you had better get up. The girl is a poor little suffering thing. She is thinly clad, is without bonnet or shoes. She has seated herself on the doorstep and says she must see you and will wait till you get up.'

"I dressed myself and opening the outside door I saw one of the most forlorn-looking little girls I ever beheld. Want, sorrow, suffering, neglect, seemed to struggle for the mastery. She looked up to my face and said:

"'Are you the man that preached last night and said that Christ could save to the uttermost?'

"'Yes.'

"'Well, I was there, and I want you to come right down to my house and try to save my poor father.'

"'What's the matter with your father?'

"'He's a very good father when he don't drink. He's out of work and he drinks awfully. He's almost killed my poor mother; but if Jesus can save to the uttermost, He can save him. And I want you to come right to our house now.'

"I took my hat and followed my little guide who trotted on before, halting as she turned the corners to see that I was coming. Oh, what a miserable den her home was! A low, dark, underground room, the floor all slush and mud--not a chair, table, or bed to be seen. A bitter cold night and not a spark of fire on the hob and the room not only cold but dark. In the corner on a little dirty straw lay a woman. Her head was bound up, and she was moaning as if in agony. As we darkened the doorway a feeble voice said: 'Oh, my child! my child! why have you brought a stranger into this horrible place?' Her story was a sad one, but soon told. Her husband, out of work, maddened with drink and made desperate, had stabbed her because she did not provide him with a supper that was not in the house.

He was then upstairs and she was expecting every moment that he would come down and complete the b.l.o.o.d.y work he had begun. While the conversation was going on the fiend made his appearance. A fiend he looked. He brandished the knife, still wet with the blood of his wife.

"The missionary, like the man among the tombs, had himself belonged to the desperate cla.s.ses. He was converted at the mouth of a coal pit. He knew the disease and the remedy--knew how to handle a man on the borders of delirium tremens.

"Subdued by the tender tones, the mad man calmed down, and took a seat on a box. But the talk was interrupted by the little girl, who approached the missionary, and said: 'Don't talk to father; it won't do any good.

If talking would have saved him, he would have been saved long ago.

Mother has talked to him so much and so good. You must ask Jesus, who saves to the uttermost, to save my poor father.'