or, she was glad in her heart that she
was not shut away from him in the Rector's crimson-cushioned pew.

It was on a Sunday a few weeks later, that her grandfather, after their
frugal dinner, called her to go with him to the churchyard, saying, "A
year ago to-day, Ruth, your dear grandmother died; let us go and spend
an hour or two by her grave."

They took the family Bible, and read and talked a long time, sitting on
the daisied grass, under the pleasant shade of a willow. At last, the
good old man seemed to grow weary, and bowing his white head on the
grave, with one arm flung over it, he fell asleep while Ruth was
singing a hymn which her grandmother had taught her. Then Ruth stole
away, and wandered about the churchyard, reading the inscriptions on
the tombstones, till the people began to enter the church for evening
service. Then she returned to her grandfather, and touched him on the
shoulder, to wake him. But he did not move. She called his name, but
he did not seem to hear her. Just then the Rector came up, and seeing
Ruth's trouble, bent down to look into the face of the old man. He
raised the withered hand that lay on the mound, and held it a moment,
looking anxious and sad. When he laid it down, he put his arms about
Ruth, and said, tenderly, "My dear child, your grandfather is
awake--_in Heaven_. He will never wake on earth. The Lord has taken
him."

With a piteous cry Ruth flung herself by the side of her dead
grandfather, and called him by many fond names, weeping bitterly; and
strong men wept in pity for her bereavement, and stood with uncovered
heads as her grandfather was lifted and borne to his old home.

[Illustration: Ruth]

From that old home he was carried forth to be laid by the side of his
dear old wife; but from that lonely cottage little Ruth was led
weeping, yet grateful, to her new home by the Rector and his wife,
henceforth to be to them a dear and cherished child. Few were the
tears she shed in that beautiful home, and tenderly were they wiped
away; and if the Lord ever spoke to her again in her peaceful little
chamber, through the darkness, it was in "the still, small voice" of
blessing, love, and comfort.

CHRISTMAS,--A MOTHER'S EXCUSE.

It comes again, the blessed day,
Made glorious by the Saviour's birth,
When faintly in a manger dawned
The light of God which fills the earth

On this sweet morn, in years gone by,
Around one happy hearth we