rth.

On her route, where the river curved around the foot of a gentle sloping
hill in the shadows of old forest trees, was made a rural cemetery; so
pleasant were its quiet paths and 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
was attracted by its simple 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_.

[Illustration]

FLYING THE KITE.

Flying the kite is a pleasant amusement for boys, and when we see