ly wonder that you wish to go," said Frank, catching the
inspiration of his friend.

"No; it is far more wonderful that so many wish to stay."

"And yet this is a very pleasant place," said Frank. "I always feel it
so when I am good."

"And God means it for a very pleasant place, my dear. He has given us
the mountain and the glen, the forest and the grove, the lake and the
waterfall, the fruits and the flowers, the beasts and the birds, and all
that is beautiful and good for us! And when I think of these, I repeat
my favorite verse, and say--

"O God! O Good beyond compare!
If thus thy meaner works are fair--
If thus thy bounty gilds the span
Of ruined earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansion be
Where thy redeemed shall dwell with thee!"

"I am glad that it is proper to be happy," said Frank, thoughtfully; "I
used to tell George Grant at school I thought it was; but he said that
all good people must be dull and sad, and called them '_spoonies_.'"

"Then you must show him his mistake, dear, and let him see you always
cheerful; because you are obedient, industrious, affectionate, and
grateful."

"I wish I _was_ a Crystal Palace, I am sure, from the bottom of my
heart," said Frank.

"A what! my dear?" asked Henry in surprise.

"Tell him what I mean, Grandma; you can explain it better, far, than I
can do," said Frank.

"No; try yourself, instead."

"I really can't, Grandma, though I do _quite_ understand it; so
tell him, if you please."

Mrs. Grey explained the previous conversations, with which the reader is
acquainted, and at the conclusion, Frank exclaimed:--

"And, Harry dear, it is delightful to see that God has made of you a
'Crystal Palace,' I am sure."

Poor Harry shook his head at first, and said, "A very little palace,
dear, I am afraid."

"But Grandma says, that little things may be complete, and beautiful,
and luminous," said Frank.

"Well, shall I tell you, then, how it has been formed?" said Harry.

"Oh, do!" said Frank; "that will be kind."

"Then tell me what is _all_ glass made of?"

"Of flint and sand," said Frank.

"Exactly; and how are they melted down to glass?"

"By a great fire, called a furnace," replied Frank.

"Just so; and in this very furnace of affliction has my heart of flint,
and my loose sand of character, that would not fix itself to any good,
been melted down by God, to what you see. Let Him have _all_ the
praise, dear boy."