governess, and every body else.”  “Yes, my little man, this is part of our duty; we should pray for every one; and, I think, if God sees it needful, he will answer our prayers, especially when they come from the heart.”  Here the child attempted to speak, but could not, but waved his hand, in token of gratitude for my having called; and I can truly say, that I never saw so much confidence, resignation, and true dependence on the divine will, manifested by any grown person, on a death-bed, much less by a child under the tender age of seven years.  I bade the child adieu, and was much impressed with what I had seen.  The next day the mother called on me, and informed me that the child had quitted his tenement of clay; and that just before his departure had said to her, and those around him, that the souls of children never die; it was only the body that died; that he had been told at school, while they were saying the pictures, that the soul went to God, who gave it.  The mother said that these were the last words the child was known to utter.  She then repeated the request about the children singing a hymn over his grave, and named the hymn she wished to have sung.  The time arrived for the funeral, and the parents of the children who were to sing the hymn made them very neat and clean, and sent them to school.  I sent them to the house whence the funeral was to proceed, and the undertaker sent word that he could not be troubled with such little creatures, and that unless I attended myself the children could not go.  I told him that I was confident that the children would be no trouble to him, if he only told them to follow the mourners two and two, and that it was unnecessary for any one to interfere with them further than shewing them the way back to the school.  I thought, however, that I would attend to see how the children behaved, but did not let them see me, until the corpse was arrived at the ground.  As soon as I had got to the ground, some of the children saw me, and whispered, “There’s master;” when several of them stepped out of the ranks to favour me with a bow.  When the corpse was put into the ground, the children were arranged round the grave, not one of whom was more than six years of age.  One of them gave out the hymn, in the usual way, and then it was sung by the whole of them; and, according to the opinions of the by-standers, very well.  The novelty of the thing caused a great number of persons to collect together; and yet, to their credit, while the children were singing, there was not a whisper to be heard; and when they had finished the hymn, the poor people made a collection for the children on the ground.  The minister himself rewarded one or two of them, and they returned well stored with money, cakes, &c.  This simple thing was the means of making the school more known; for I could hear persons inquiring, “Where do these children come from?” “Why, don’t you know?” replied others, “from the Infant School.”  “Well,” answered a third, “I will try to get my children into it; for I should like them to be there of all things.  When do they take them in, and how do they get them in?” “Why, you must apply on Monday mornings,” answered another; and the following Monday I had no less than forty-nine applications, all of which I was obliged to refuse, because the school was full.[A]