22 BE TRUE,

the mother, was now poured upon
the child. Hour after hour would
the kind woman hold the little girl
in her arms, talking to her of the
path, rough and uneven, full of
thorns, whose sting must be borne,
watered with tears which mortals
must ever shed, but leading the true
of heart to the better country. With
a mother’s tenderness she would
watch the child, who was bent on
a nightly visit to the church-yard;
sometimes allowing her to go, but
following her soon, weeping with
her awhile. Then with a hymn of
praise, or the hallowed tones of pray-
er, she would soothe the heart’s ago-
ny, and thus succeed in leading little
Laura home.

The beautiful summer months thus
spent with her kind friend, brought