Fortunately, this child did not dwell in a state which reckoned things on such a basis. He was born a citizen of the blessed kingdom of love. The disposition of his poor, stricken life was not determined by the dictates of the head. It was decided by the kindlier judgments of the heart. It was not a question of expediency. It was one of affection. Had his parents been ruled by the icy processes of a certain brand of common sense, they might have despised and neglected him because he was not a creditable representative of their kind. However, it was not so. Being ruled by the gentler spirit of parental love, they cared for him a little more tenderly than for any other of their children. There is a reason. It is the fact that love is so constituted that it finds joy in bearing burdens. It deliberately reaches out to help the poorest and most unfortunate. It lavishes itself on those from whom it can expect nothing save gratitude in return. The feelings of the heart constitute the only coin in circulation in love’s domain. Day after day an aged mother sat in her chair by the window. Her faded eyes looked continually out upon the street. One might have thought that they were looking at the stream of passers-by. It was not so. She could hardly see the friends and neighbors as they came and went. She was really looking back over the long vista of vanished years. She was seeing departed faces, and listening to voices long hushed by the blanketing clay. A day came when she could no longer sit at the window. The thin old frame that was her body had grown too weak to support itself in a chair, so she lay upon her bed. Neglected? No. She was more tenderly cared for than ever. She was a great care for the tender, loving hands that ministered to her, but her very weakness and helplessness called the louder to loving hearts and they responded. One day the worn-out machinery of her physical body stopped running. At evening time it had suddenly grown light, and then the darkness had fallen. The old face was the picture of peace, with its closed eyes and a certain satisfied expression upon its features. A wise friend came and stood in the darkened room with the daughter who had faithfully cared for the aged one while she lived. She said to her: “I know how many times your arms will ache for the burden that has been taken from them.” She knew the law of love. It craves burdens to bear. When it has carried a heavy load through years of time and that load is suddenly lifted from its shoulders, it does not rejoice. It weeps and wishes for the burden back again. This is a part of its strange, beautiful nature. Without this nature it would not be love. The world has gone on and the race has accomplished something of an upward climb because love has always been among us, lifting, pushing, and helping. Without it we should still be a race of savages.