promised to go and teach her to read, that she might know about God.

GENEVIEVE READING THE BIBLE TO HEPSA.

On the next day she took some of her books, and, with some of her prettiest playthings for a

present to Hepsa, she went in search of the house down the lane, on the other side of the village.

She found a gentler pupil than on the day before; and Hepsa's hair was laid smoothly upon her forehead, her face clean, and though there were some tatters in her dress, Genevieve did not much mind them.

The baby was in his cradle, fast asleep, and Genevieve went and knelt down by the side of it, and looked at it carefully, as though she was afraid of awaking it, and then whispered to Hepsa her admiration of the little hands, which lay cunningly upon the quilt, and said how much she wanted to kiss him; would he wake, she wondered, if she just kissed his cheek, and didn't make any noise? Hepsa told her no; so she kissed him; and then, after looking at him to see how sweetly he slept,—now frowning, and now smiling in his dreams,—she went away with Hepsa, and they talked a great while together, telling each other what the other didn't know. Genevieve was often shocked and grieved at Hepsa's undutiful remarks about her father, mother and brother; and when she felt they didn't love Hepsa, as her own dear father

and mother loved her, still she could not understand why Hepsa did not love them better. She was often a good deal perplexed to know what she should say to the strange child; but of one thing she felt always certain, that her new companion needed to have her heart cleansed and purified before she could be loved well. She felt a strong love for Hepsa, and longed to teach her more of God, and show her how to read, that she might teach herself.

Hepsa was amazed when her friend took out the playthings from the bag and gave them to her; no one had before shown her such kindness; and Genevieve thought in her heart she was just as happy giving those things to Hepsa, as when they were given to her.

Poor Hepsa had never been to school, and so she didn't even know the alphabet; but Genevieve sat down patiently to teach her, and found truly that much patience was necessary to accomplish the work she had undertaken. Hepsa would soon grow discouraged when she found so much to learn, and saw her little teacher reading so readily; and her mother would often scold when she saw Hepsa

with a book in her hand, declaring it was foolish nonsense; but, as time went on, and the first difficulties were overcome, and her mother began to find Hepsa growing very gentle, and Tom had less occasion to plague his sister, they all felt that the books Hepsa had studied, and the little girl who came so often to see her, were kind friends, and love began to bind them all together. Hepsa no longer wore torn clothes; Genevieve's mother had given her some neat dresses, and Genevieve had given her needles and thread, and taught her to sew, and now many a rent was carefully mended, and even Tom began to look neater than formerly. She was careful too to keep the room nicely, and one day was amply rewarded for this, when Tom came in before she had had time to do it, and complained of its being dirty. "Tom begins to like a clean room," she said to herself with joy, and received his few harsh words as though they had been those of love. The baby too was always clean, for she knew Genevieve always depended upon kissing him.

Hepsa's father was not a good man; he was unkind to his poor wife and children; so it was no

wonder Tom had gone on, following the example constantly placed before him; but he was a child yet, and when he saw how Hepsa began to love him, that she grieved without being angry when he was unkind to her, it could not but touch his heart. He was half ashamed, too, when she saved for him some of the good things Genevieve had brought her. At first, 't is true, he thought little about it, but when often, after he had been so ugly to her, she came just the same, and offered him half of her orange, or a part of her nuts, he began to feel that he was a naughty boy, and that Hepsa was better than she used to be.

It was very natural he should ask her the reason of this, and very natural, too, that she should answer in this way:

"Why, Tom, I have learned a great deal about God from Genevieve, and then she has taught me to read, and I have learned a great deal that way. Tom, where do you think Susan went when she died?"

Tom couldn't tell. Susan was an elder sister of theirs, whom they had loved very dearly, and who had died some two years before.

"Well, Tom; there are angels who take all the children, as soon as they die, and show them wonderful things, and teach them, so they can go into a beautiful place called heaven, and live with God. Well, if you begin to be good here, and love people, you will go into that heaven sooner, when you die, than if you are naughty, and don't think about these things while you are here. I want to go there very much, and so I try to be good, though I don't always make out well." Tom looked thoughtful at his sister's words, and then said:

"I think that little Genevieve will go very fast, when she dies. But I don't think father will get there very soon, now I tell you!"

"O, but Tom," said Hepsa sadly, "we must not think who will not go, but how we may go."

"I wish I knew how to read," said Tom; "but I never can go to school, father makes me saw so much wood."

Then Hepsa asked him to let her teach him; and, after a good deal of hesitation, he told her he didn't care if she did.

Some time after this, Genevieve's father and

mother went away from that place, and she parted from Hepsa with many tears in her eyes, and much grief in her heart. "If I never see you again," she said, "don't forget we are both going into the gardens up there," and Hepsa always remembered.

Genevieve was a very quiet girl, but she was always ready to do something to please her dear mother, and at night brought her father's slippers from the closet, and placed them ready by his chair. She did, too, many little things for the servants, who all loved her very dearly; so when, a few years afterwards, she fell sick, and nothing they could do for her was able to make her any better, but the doctor said she must die, they all wept very much, and no comfort or joy could come into their hearts. But Genevieve gently kissed them, and told them a beautiful peace had come into her heart, for that, in the night, Christ often came to her, and told her how the angel was all ready to take her into his beautiful garden, and teach her out of his great golden books.

At last, one morning she died, and they laid her away in the garden near by the fountain; and

they planted the mignonette and myrtle, that, mingling with the moss, it might grow over her grave.

And her mother said in her heart, "Let her lie here, that, as often as I come hither, I may be reminded of the more beautiful gardens of God, to which she has flown. And when, in the cool night, the stars look down, the soft fragrance of the mignonette shall tell them of her loveliness, and the myrtle and the moss of the constant love twining together the souls of the mother and the daughter."

It was as Christ had said; the angel stood ready,