looked very sorrowful, and as if
they had been crying very much. But in one carriage he saw something
which he never forgot. With her head resting on her papa's shoulder, and
her little white sorrowful face pressed close to the window, was his
little friend Mabel.

"So her mother is dead!" said Christie to himself, "and this is her
funeral! Oh, dear! what a very sad world this is!"

He was not sure whether Mabel had seen him, but the little girl's sorrow
had sunk very deep into Christie's soul, and it was with a heavier heart
than before that he hastened forward to overtake the hearse which was
carrying his old master's body to the grave.

So the two funeral processions--that of the poor old man, and that of
the fair young mother--passed on to the cemetery, and over both bodies
were pronounced the words, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to
dust." But all this time their happy souls were in "Home, sweet Home,"
far, far away from the scene of sorrow. For a few days before, just at
the same hour, two souls had left this world of woe, and had met
together before the gates of pearl. And as they were both clean and
white, both washed in the blood of the Lamb, the gates had been opened
wide, and old Treffy and little Mabel's mother had entered the city
together. And now they had both seen Jesus, the dear Lord whom they
loved well, and in His presence they were even now enjoying fulness of
joy.

Christie was obliged to give up the little attic after Treffy's death,
for the landlady wished to let it for a higher rent. However, she gave
the boy leave to sleep in the great lodging-room below, whilst she took
possession of all old Treffy's small stock of furniture, in payment for
the rent which he owed her.

But the organ was Christie's property; his old master had given it to
him most solemnly about a week before he died. He had called Christie to
his side, and told him to bring the organ with him. Then he had
committed it to Christie's care.

"You'll take care of her, Christie," he had said, "and you'll never part
with her, for my sake. And when you play 'Home, sweet Home,' Christie,
boy, you must think of me and your mother, and how we've both got
there."

It was hard work for Christie, the first day that he took out his organ
after old Treffy's funeral; he did not so much mind playing "Rule
Britannia," or the "Old Hundredth," or "Poor Mary Ann," but when he came
for the first time to "Home, sweet Home," such a ru