evolence so high, so pure, so ethereal,
that but One of mortal birth ever reached it. He felt that, do what he
might, he fell ever so far below the life of that _spotless One_--that
his crown in heaven must come to him at last, not as a reward, but as a
free, eternal gift.

But all this while our friend and his little companion have been
pattering along the wet streets, in the rain and sleet of a bitter cold
evening, till they stopped before a grocery. Here a large cross-handled
basket was first bought, and then filled with sundry packages of tea,
sugar, candles, soap, starch, and various other matters; a barrel of
flour was ordered to be sent after him on a dray. Mr. H. next stopped at
a dry goods store and bought a pair of blankets, with which he loaded
down the boy, who was happy enough to be so loaded; and then, turning
gradually from the more frequented streets, the two were soon lost to
view in one of the dimmest alleys of the city.

The cheerful fire was blazing in his parlor, as, returned from his long,
wet walk, he was sitting by it with his feet comfortably incased in
slippers. The astral was burning brightly on the centre table, and a
group of children were around it, studying their lessons.

"Papa," said a little boy, "what does this verse mean? It's in my Sunday
school lesson. 'Make to yourselves _friends of the mammon of
unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into
everlasting habitations_.'"

"You ought to have asked your teacher, my son."

"But he said he didn't know exactly what it meant. He wanted me to look
this week and see if I could find out."

Mr. H.'s standing resource in all exegetical difficulties was Dr.
Scott's Family Bible. Therefore he now got up, and putting on his
spectacles, walked to the glass bookcase, and took down a volume of that
worthy commentator, and opening it, read aloud the whole exposition of
the passage, together with the practical reflections upon it; and by the
time he had done, he found his young auditor fast asleep in his chair.

"Mother," said he, "this child plays too hard. He can't keep his eyes
open evenings. It's time he was in bed."

"I wasn't asleep, pa," said Master Henry, starting up with that air of
injured innocence with which gentlemen of his age generally treat an
imputation of this kind.

"Then can you tell me now what the passage means that I have been
reading to you?"

"There's so much of it," said Henry, hopelessly, "I wish y