One of my boys went to take the entrance examination of a medical college shortly after his mother’s death. He went down to the college town before the examination to prepare for it. One day, when I went to see how he was getting on, I found three boys studying in the same room. On the desks of the other two boys I noticed pictures of Gladstone and Bismarck. Perhaps these great men were the objects of their hero-worship, but on my boy’s desk I saw his mother’s picture, right in front, as usual. He thought his mother’s picture was just as good for him, if not better, than those of great men. I was much pleased with this expression of his love for his dead mother, even in such a place as this. The examination was said to be hard, especially in mathematics. There were five questions to answer. Four of them he disposed of quickly, but he could make nothing out of the fifth. If he could not answer all five questions satisfactorily, his failure to pass would be certain, because there were ten times more applicants for the examination than the college could possibly take in that year. The time set for the examination was quickly passing; so, closing his eyes, he tried very hard to think out the solution. Just at that moment his mother’s figure flashed before him. In surprise he opened his eyes, and the solution of the problem was in his mind. He took up his pen and wrote it out satisfactorily. He entered the college at the head of his class, and wrote to me afterward, saying, “Surely mama helped me.” One day my youngest girl came to me with a curious question. She said, “Papa, when you go to any faraway place you always come back, don’t you?” “Yes,” I said. “This is papa’s home; papa has to come back always to his home,--don’t you see?” Then she said, “Well, then, you all say mama is gone to heaven from here; and if she really went there, and is living there now, why can’t she come back, as you always do from a faraway place? Why can’t she come home again from heaven?” I could not answer such a question. But simply to comfort her, I said: “Oh, I see! Perhaps God has some work for your mama in heaven. Therefore he is keeping her there, and your mama cannot come back here. You know, mama must obey God; whatever God says mama must do. God does not want your mama to come back to this world, so she cannot come home.” I said this simply to satisfy her childish mind, which was wondering why her mama, if she is really living in heaven with God, cannot come back once more to her old home. Instantly she said, “All right, papa. Then why can’t you go now to heaven yourself, and do mama’s work and serve God in her place, and let mama come down here for one month? And when you get tired of heaven, papa, you might come down, and then we will send mama up again to heaven. It is very good to have papa with us always, but we want mama also.”