“Yes, yes; I know you are yet but a ‘wee thing,’ and have much to learn; but ‘the race is not always to the swift and the battle to the strong;’ it isn’t the tallest men and the oldest heads that do the most good in the world.  But I’ll tell you what you can do, if you can’t work miracles; though there’s many a devil cast out in these days of sin and sorrow, that men know not of; those who struggle and strive with the Evil One, and thrust him out of the doors of their heart, do not sound a trumpet before them in the streets, for they are true followers of the dear Lamb of God.  That same old spirit of selfishness that tempted Eve in the garden of Eden has gone through the world like a creeping, wily serpent ever since.  It has wound itself round and round our hearts, coil upon coil, until we scarce seem to have any heart at all.  It is this that troubles you, and you must cast it out; you must forget your own interest, and learn everybody to love you; then you can’t help loving everybody, and you will be happy.  Oh, it will be hard, very hard, to do this; you will stop, and perhaps turn back; but when it is the darkest you must take the gentle hand that our dear brother, the Lord Jesus, stretches out to you, and he will lead you safely to the very bosom of the Father.

“But look up, dear one, the sun has gone down behind the hill, and you must hasten homeward.  The mother bird must needs feel anxious when her nestlings are away.  But don’t forget what I have told you.”

“No,” said Annie, raising her head, for she had been thinking earnestly; every word that her kind friend had spoken went with a powerful influence to her heart; “I will try and do what I can," said she.

“Ay,” said the old woman, “that’s right! not even an angel can do more.  But stop,” she added; “do you remember what day it is?”

“Yes,” said Annie.

“Well then, just a year from this time, if the Lord permits, we will meet again by this spring.  Now good night, and may the blessing of the Great Father go with you.”

“Good night,” said Annie, and with a cheerful heart and light footstep, she hastened homeward.

No sooner did she come in sight of her home, than she perceived a horse and carriage standing by the gate.  She recognized it in a moment; it was the doctor’s.  A cold shudder passed over her, and an indefinable fear entered her mind.  She hastened onward and entered the house.

Upon the bed lay little Katie; her eyes fixed upon the wall, seemingly unconscious of all that passed around her, sending forth low moans, as if in great pain.  Beside her sat the doctor, counting the beatings of her pulse, and closely observing the alterations of her countenance.

“I cannot give you much encouragement,” said he.  “It is a disease of the brain.  All shall be done for her that is possible, but I fear there is not much hope.”

Alas! it was even so; all was done in vain.  She laid day after day, a helpless sufferer.  It was long before the vital energy was spent; but through all this weary time, there was one constant watcher by her bed-side.