Then the mourner's heart was strengthened, and the lesson he would
have taught the child came from the child to him, and made his soul
glad.
A few weeks passed, and the old man died.
The child wept; but, remembering the good friend's lesson, he wiped
away his tears, and wept no more; for the seed had already become a
beautiful plant, and every day it went upward, and he knew that,
like that, his sister and his good friend would go higher and higher
towards God.
Days, weeks, months, years passed away. The plant had grown till it
was taller than he who had planted it.
Years fled. The child was no more there, but a young man sat beneath
the shade of a tree, and held a maiden's hand in his own. Her head
reclined on his breast, and her eyes upturned met the glances of his
towards her, and they blended in one.
"I remember," said he, "that when I was young a good old man who is
now in heaven, led me to this spot, and bade me put a little seed in
the earth. I did so. I watched the ground that held it, and soon it
sprang up, touched by no hand, drawn forth, as it would seem, from
its dark prison by the attractive power of the bright heaven that
shone above it.
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