f Matthew, and read
distinctly in the German, which he could understand, and which she could
now speak also, the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

He stopped her there. "Read that again," he said. She complied, and then
he turned to her, saying, "And Jesus, the Son of God, said that? Will He
give it to me, thinkest thou?"

"Yes," she said, "He will; for He has promised to do it, and He never
breaks His word."

"Well, if that be so, kneel down, pretty one, and ask Him to give it me,
for I need it sorely."

Frida knelt, and in a few simple words besought the Saviour to give His
rest and peace to the suffering man.

"Thanks, little Frida," he said as she rose. "I believe that prayer will
be answered." And shutting his eyes he fell quietly asleep, and Frida
slipped out of the room and joined Wilhelm in the Forest.

"Is little Anna so very ill?" she queried as they walked.

"I fear she is," was the answer the father gave, with tears in his eyes.
"The mother thinks so also; though the child, bless her, is so good and
patient we hardly know whether she suffers or not. She just lies still
mostly on her bed now, and sings to herself little bits of hymns, or
speaks about the land far away, which she says you told her about, and
where she says she is going to see Jesus. Then her mother begins to cry;
but she also speaks about that bright land. 'Deed it puzzles me to know
where they have learned so much about it, unless it be from your little
brown book. And the child has often asked where Frida is. 'I want to
hear her sing again,' she says."

"O Wilhelm, why did you not come for me when she said that?"

"Well, you see, I had promised the pastor that I would let you visit
Miss Drechsler as often as possible, and then you were getting on so
nicely with your violin that we felt as if we had no right to call you
back to us. But see, here we are, and there is Hans looking out for us."

But Hans, instead of rushing to meet them as he usually did, ran back
hastily to his mother, calling out, "Here they come, here they come!"

"Oh, I am glad!" she said.--"Anna, dear Anna, you will hear Frida's
voice again."

The mother looked round with a smile, but moved not, for the dying child
lay in her arms. A moment longer, and Frida was beside her, her arms
round the blind child.

"Annchen, dear Annchen, speak to me," she entreated--"just one word, to
say you know me. It is Fri