nd its cool shades in
summer, that the living loved to wander there. Friends came there to
plant flowers upon the graves of dear ones they had lost.

Through a low ivy covered gateway of stone, Emily entered the quiet
place. There were no massive railings, and lofty monuments, and no
costly devices, but God had made this place very beautiful--flowers
were blooming along the well trodden paths, and around the last
resting places of the dead. Here and there arose a simple shaft or a
light column, and the graves of the household were bordered by a green
hedge or surrounded by shadowing trees.

As Emily passed through the familiar walks, she came suddenly to a
grave in the remote corner of the cemetery, beside which sat a
solitary mourner. A small white slab lay upon the centre of the green
mound and at its head grew a rose bush in bloom, bending, till its
weight of white buds and blossoms touched the long bright grass upon
the grave. Emily attracted by its simply beauty, and drawing near, she
stooped down and read upon the marble slab, "Dear Mina." Her young
eyes filled instantly with tears, for she knew that it was the darling
child of a lady who to her was a stranger. As she turned away from the
spot she met a lady approaching, who passed her and kneeled down
beside the grave. She thought she would speak to the lady, and with
tender sympathy she asked, "Was it your child?"

The lady, who was deep in thought, looked up at the sound of Emily's
earnest voice, and answered, softly, "yes; 'Dear Mina' was my only
child." This interview led Emily to an acquaintance with the sorrowing
mother, which caused her never to forget her morning ramble. She was a
good woman, and at the decease of Emily's mother became her Christian
companion and instructor.

* * * * *

I doubt whether he will find the way to heaven who desires to go
there alone: all heavenly hearts are charitable: enlightened souls
cannot but diffuse their rays. I will, if I can, do something for
others and for heaven, not to merit by it, but to express my
gratitude. Though I cannot do what I would, I will labor to do what I
can.--_Feltham_.

* * * * *

FLYING THE KITE.

Flying the kite is a pleasant amusement for boys, and when we see the
kites flying high in the air, we are always reminded of a kite whose
history we heard when a little child, and which we give our readers.
Shortly after the