before them, pulling off the golden daffodils by their heads, and often falling and rolling over on the grass, as he hastened with his flowery spoils to his mother and sisters, offering the stemless flowers to them in his mute loving way.

"Mamma," said Honora, the eldest girl, "how pretty it is to watch Antony! What a sweet baby he is!"

"Yes, he is very lovely, and it is a great pleasure to sit and watch his innocent play. Do you remember what our Lord said of infants, Nonie ?"

"Of such is the kingdom of heaven," repeated Honora, reverentially. "What does that mean, mamma ?"

"That angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect, are as pure, as innocent, and as loving as young children. Our childhood always appears to me the most blessed portion of the time called our life; we have nothing to think of then, but learning God's will, and enjoying His love."

'Mamma, if you please, will you tell us something about good children, and how God loved them? I don't mean little Samuel this time, but about some English child, like us."

"A child whom God loved? He loves all his children, Nonie. The Good Shepherd bears

all his lambs in his bosom; but he especially loves those who listen to his voice and obey it, and love him much in return. And to these young ones he often gives a wisdom and an understanding which may well astonish the children of this world. Of such a child, I think I can tell you a little. Just as I heard it from his mamma you shall have the story of little Bertie's loving babyhood.

"He was a very pretty boy with large dark thoughtful eyes; a quiet and obedient child, though only three years and four months old. One day he was playing in his mamma's room when it thundered loudly. He stood listening for a moment, then ran up to her and said, 'God is gone up with a merry noise.' His mamma was very much astonished at hearing him repeat those words from the Psalms, and apply them so well, for she had not thought he listened to, or understood much of the Morning Service, though he was taken to church. When it thundered again, he asked what the noise was ?' His mamma replied from the Psalms:

'The voice of God.'

"After that he sat listening very silently, and as the storm continued, he said, in a reve

rential whisper- 'What a deal God has to say!'

"Another time he was sitting with his mamma under the trees, listening to the birds singing, as we have just been doing, and he noticed how sweetly they sang.

"It is a hymn of praise to God,' said his mother.

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'No, mamma,' answered little Bertie; 'they are singing their catechism.""

Honora laughed.

"What a funny little fellow he was, mamma! Did he say any more about the birds ?"

"Yes; another time on his mamma's making the same observation, he asked, 'Are they singing the evening hymn that is in the prayerbook?'"

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Oh, mamma, the dear little thing! How I wish I had known him! Please tell us some more about him."

"Bertie," continued Mrs. Digby, "had a little sister, whom he loved very much, and she died and was buried. very sad at losing her. He asked his mamma, if he were very good, whether God would let her come back to him. Mrs. Hartsdell replied, that such a thing could not be; for as you know, Nonie, God does not send his children

He missed her, and was

back to the world again, after he has once taken them home. But,' she added,' do you think you shall ever see her again, Bertie ?' 'Yes,' he answered, 'I know that I shall see her when the judgment sounds.'

"He showed the utmost tenderness for everything which had been hers, or had been used by her. He thought it very wrong that another sister, Florence, should wear little Agnes's caps and frocks, and inquired in a reproachful toneWhether she was to have all his baby's clothes? For two years following her death, he very often talked about her, and said several times, that he always thought of Agnes when he went to sleep at night. About a year after her death, he took a lady into the churchyard, to show her 'his baby's grave;' and he kissed the head-stone, and repeated the verse upon it. Such a loving

heart had this dear little Bertie."

"Oh thank you, mamma, for telling me about him. What a nice little boy he was-! Is he alive now? or has God taken him home to his baby ?" "

"He is still alive, and is grown a tall boy. Very soon he will be a man, and I think that such a childhood promises a good boyhood, and a noble manhood. I hope Bertie's mamma will not let him forget his baby days, and that the

memory of them may keep him still with a childlike and tender heart."

"I should like to know him," said Nonie. "Perhaps some day you may. Meantime, try and be as attentive and thoughtful about heavenly things as he was; that I, also, may treasure up the memory of my child's infancy."

"But I am not an infant now, mamma!"

"No, you are growing out of babyhood—and, Nonie, do you know I begin to think you may be permitted to read God's holy book with me soon, and learn his will from it for yourself."

"May I really?" cried Honora, with delight; "what! read the Bible my own self? Those beautiful stories that you tell me, when we look at the pictures, and that Mr. Shannon reads in church? Oh, how nice that will be! I am so glad. When may I begin, mamma? Today ?"

"No; you have heard the lessons in church, and I have read to you. That is enough for today; to-morrow morning I will allow my little girl this great privilege."

Honora was delighted.

"Mamma! how kind of you! It will be quite like a woman; and the beautiful stories. . . It will make every day almost as good as Sunday."