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Solomon was wandering among the trees of the cemetery, and every now and then stooping wearily to gather something from the ground. He was getting daisies to put in his little dear's grave. They were very scarce now, and it gave him much trouble to collect them, and they looked very poor and frost-bitten when he put them together, but they were the best he could find, and, with trembling hands, he threw them into the little grave.
It was a very quiet funeral. The gentleman and lady and their two little girls came to it, and Dot's father and mother, and old Solomon did his sorrowful part.
And they looked down into the grave at the little white coffin lying amongst the daisies. Then all was over, and the robin sang his song on little Dot's grave.
Lilian's father ordered a stone exactly like that which he had put up to his own child—a small white marble stone, and on the stone were these words
LITTLE DOT, and underneath was Dot's text
“Wash ME, AND I SHALL BE WHITER THAN SNOW." Old Solomon toiled on, often lonely and sad. The neighbours said he was getting childish, for he often fancied that his little Dot was alive, and he would look up from the graves and smile at her, as he used to do when she stood at the top. And he often thought he heard her little voice whispering among the trees of the cemetery. And the words she whispered were always those of her little prayer.
So Solomon grew to think of her as alive and not dead, and it comforted his old heart. “For," said he, “it will not be very long before I shall see her again.”
Thus Solomon was troubled no longer at the thought of his own grave, or of who should dig it.
And the people who came to the cemetery often looked at the two little graves, and read the two texts.
The Esquimaux Visit to Paris.
Esquimaux to Paris, and showed them all its
well, and a guide was placed at their service to take them everywhere, and to show them everything. They drove through the most beautiful drives; they were shown the palaces and other great public buildings; they were taken to see the picture-galleries ; they gazed their fill at the splendid shop-windows; they went to concerts, and theatres, and balls ; in short, everything that was gay and delightful seemed placed at their disposal. But very soon they became quite weary, and their listless looks made it very plain that any little interest they had taken was completely gone. At last they could endure it no longer, and falling down on their knees before their patron, they begged for mercy. Would he, they entreated, take pity on them, and grant them a boon ? He was most wishful to do anything he could to oblige them, and inquired what they wished. To close the shutters, they said, to pass their time in darkness, and to be supplied with food as like as possible to what both Parisians and Englishmen would deem the coarse and sickening food of their native land.
They had very likely looked forward with eager expectation to the delights of Paris; and yet, when they actually tried them, they caused nothing but weariness and disgust.
A striking illustration, this, of the truth that neither place, nor society, nor pleasures, nor circumstances of any kind can make men happy unless they are adapted to their feelings and tastes.
Almost everybody thinks that if he were to get to heaven he would be sure to be happy. It is such a beautiful place; the music is so sweet; there is no sickness, no trouble, no death. How, then, people think, could they fail to be perfectly happy?
Perhaps, dear reader, that is what you have thought about it. Now, supposing it were all you thus fancy, we are not at all sure you would be happy if you got there. People live in beautiful houses; they can hear sweet music whenever they like; they are never sick; they never think of dying, and they never lost a friend; and yet they are anything but happy.
But there is a great deal more in heaven than all this; and unless your heart is changed by the Holy Spirit you would have far less pleasure in its enjoyment than those poor Esquimaux found in the gaieties of the great city.
There are none in heaven but the good-holy angels, holy men and women. Is that the kind of society you love best? Every one there serves God with his whole might, and does His will perfectly. Do you read your Bible attentively to know what God wishes you to do? and do you then seek His grace that you may obey all His commands ?
They are all worshippers there. They are never weary of praising God, and they sing evermore, “Salvation to our God that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb.” Is it a pleasure to you to praise and pray? Or are Sunday and the services of God's house a great weariness? If you do not love the Lord Jesus, and serve Him now, how can you think that it will be a pleasure to serve Him in heaven?
But you cannot be admitted if you are “yet in your sins," for “nothing shall enter that defileth, or that worketh abomination, or that maketh a lie;" only " they that are written in the Lamb's book of life.”
Thank God, you can be “ made meet for the inheritance," if you will only go to Jesus. Confess your sins, believing in His precious blood. He will forgive them all. Ask Him to “ create in you a clean heart.” He will hear you, and so make “old things to pass away, and all things to become new," that it will be a delight to you to serve Him. Thus forgiven and changed in heart, you will be prepared to enter into those pleasures which are at His right hand for evermore.
The Grave's Side.
Thicker the darkness, nothing breaks its gloom ;
Our Ten W eeks' Strike.
CHAPTER 1.—MASTER AND MEN.
about forty in all; but ten of our number were
in the earlier years of it. Our employer was kind-hearted, considerate, and liberal; and, though it has nothing to do with our strike, I may give one instance out of many to show his disposition.