He could not remain long, and was soon taken back to the
little parlor, where he sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on the
table. It was not long before the little boy died. But he was very
happy. Among his last words were these, addressed to his little sister
three years old: "Well, Emmie, very ill--me going to Jesus."
"Oh, mamma, Emmie loves her Saviour."
* * * * *
THE BOY AND THE GOLD ROBIN.
A bright eyed boy was sleeping upon a bank of blossoming clover. The
cool breeze lifted the curls from his brow, and fanned with downy
wings his quiet slumbers, while he lay under the refreshing shade of a
large maple tree. The birds sang to him during his happy hours of
sleep. By and by he awoke, and a beautiful gold robin sat on the
spray, and sung a song of joy. The boy reached out his hands to secure
the prize, but the robin spread his golden wings and soared away. He
looked after it with a longing gaze, and when it disappeared from his
sight, he wept aloud. At this moment, a form of light approached, and
took the hands of the child and pointed upwards; and he saw the bird
soaring in freedom, and the sun shining upon its burnished plumes.
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