p now,
and then I shall see mother when she comes in."

The poor ragged outcast crept near to his tiny friend as she requested,
and then sat looking up into her bright face, whilst in simple words
such as a child would use she told him that sweet story of old--of our
Saviour, a babe in the manger of Bethlehem--His loving tenderness to
us--of His death upon the Cross for our redemption--of His glorious
resurrection and ascension to heaven, whither He has gone to prepare a
place for those who love and believe Him.

"And does He want me in that beautiful land?" asked the awe-struck boy,
almost in a whisper.

"Yes, Jimmy, even you," was the reply.

"But I be so dirty and ugly," he said.

"God made you, dear, and He makes nothing ugly," replied the little girl
soothingly.

"And you say we shall never hunger or thirst in heaven, and never feel
pain any more. O Pollie, I wish I was there; nobody wants me here."

His little friend took his claw-like hand tenderly in hers and stroked
it gently. She knew what a wretched life was his, and could not wonder
at what he said--"nobody wants me here"--but her heart was full of
sympathy for his loneliness.

"Shall I teach you a prayer to say to Jesus, Jimmy?" she asked after a
pause of some length, during which her companion had been silently
gazing up at the only piece of sky that was visible in that narrow
court, as though trying to imagine where heaven really was, the child
having pointed upwards whilst speaking of the home beyond the grave.

"What is prayer?" he asked.

Pollie could not explain it correctly, but she did her best to make it
easy to his benighted mind. She gave him _her_ idea of what prayer is.

"It is speaking to God," she said with reverence.

"And will He listen to the likes of me?" was the question.

"Oh yes, if you pray to Him with your whole heart," was her reply.

The boy paused awhile, as though musing upon what she had said.

"Pollie," he presently entreated in hushed tones, "please teach me to
pray."

And then at the foot of the stairs knelt those two children--children of
the same heavenly Father, lambs of the dear Saviour's fold--alike and
yet so unlike; and the poor outcast cripple, following the actions of
the little girl, meekly folded his hands as she clasped hers, and with
eyes raised heavenward to where a few stars were now softly shining, he
repeated after her--

"Consider and hear me, O Lord my God! lighten mine eyes, lest I sle