“Because it does me so much good, sir.  Bess told me long ago about the blessed Jesus who bore so much for us, and I longed to be as like him as a little child could grow.  So when my pain was very sharp, I looked up there, and, thinking of the things he suffered, tried so hard to bear it that I often could; but sometimes when it was too bad, instead of fretting Bess, I’d cry softly, looking up there all the time and asking him to help me be a patient child.  I think he did; and now it seems so like a friend to me, I love it better every day.  I watch the sun climb up along the roofs in the morning, creeping higher and higher till it shines upon the cross and turns it into gold.  Then through the day I watch the sunshine fade away till all the red goes from the sky, and for a little while I cannot see it through the dark.  But the moon comes, and I love it better then; for lying awake through the long nights, I see the cross so high and bright with stars all shining round it, and I feel still and happy in my heart as when Bess sings to me in the twilight.”

“But when there is no moon, or clouds hide it from you, what then, Jamie?” asked the young man, wondering if there were no cloud to darken the cheerful child’s content.

“I wait till it is clear again, and feel that it is there, although I cannot see it, sir.  I hope it never will be taken down, for the light upon the cross seems like that I see in dear Bessie’s eyes when she holds me in her arms and calls me her ‘patient Jamie.’  She never knows I try to bear my troubles for her sake, as she bears hunger and cold for mine.  So you see, sir, how many things I have to make me a happy child.”

“I would gladly lie down on your pillow to be half as light of heart as you are, little Jamie, for I have lost my faith in everything and with it all my happiness;” and the heavy shadow which had lifted for a while fell back darker than before upon the anxious face beside the bed.

“If I were well and strong like you, sir, I think I should be so thankful nothing could trouble me;” and with a sigh the boy glanced at the vigorous frame and energetic countenance of his new friend, wondering at the despondent look he wore.

“If you were poor, so poor you had no means wherewith to get a crust of bread, nor a shelter for the night; if you were worn-out with suffering and labor, soured by disappointment and haunted by ambitious hopes never to be realized, what would you do, Jamie?” suddenly asked the young man, prompted by the desire that every human heart has felt for sympathy and counsel, even from the little creature before him ignorant and inexperienced as he was.

But the child, wiser in his innocence than many an older counsellor, pointed upward, saying with a look of perfect trust,—­

“I should look up to the cross upon the tower and think of what Bess told me about God, who feeds the birds and clothes the flowers, and I should wait patiently, feeling sure he would remember me.”