For a while this little girl was very happy and contented; she was such a mild, gentle little thing that we all loved her at once. Soon I perceived that she grew more quiet, white, and sad, and I found that she was grieving because she had all these sweet joys around her, flowers, birds, fields, friends, a beautiful home and kind teachers, while her mother, and a little sister, who was lame, were obliged to live on earth in the little dark street, with nothing beautiful to brighten their lives. She wanted her mother, she wanted Nellie to share her new home, or she wanted to go back and live with them. Then I showed her that though it was not yet time for her dear mother and sister to come to the Summer-land, yet she could go back to them, and make them feel better and happier. She was all delight at the thought. Plucking handfuls of the sweet flowers that grew around her, with her pure face all ashine with love, she asked me to take her back to her earthly home, which I was glad to do. We found her mother hard at work sewing, and the little lame girl trying to help her. We brought all our influence to bear upon the two, but could not make them feel our presence. Leaving the flowers she had gathered, spirit Lily came away disappointed and sad. But again and again she tried, until at last, little lame Nellie began to see the flowers and the light which shone around her angel sister, and finally she could see that sister herself, converse with her, and tell her wondering mother the many strange things told to her of the Summer-land. Now our little Lily is contented and happy, anxious to learn in our spirit school, for every day she returns to earth, to teach her sister what she learns, to show her the flowers and birds of heaven, and to bless and comfort her mother with her presence and her love. Little Bertie was a sweet little boy, the only child his mother had; his father had gone to dwell with the angels long ago, and his dear mother was obliged to labor very hard for the support of herself and her little boy. Bertie and his dear mamma lived in a little white house, that had a flower garden attached to it, where the roses and pansies and sweet pinks grew and blossomed through all the long, golden days of summer. The little house stood just out of town, not very far from the big stone house where the lady lived who supplied Bertie’s mother with sewing work. Little Bertie was only seven years old, but it was his delight to dig and plant in the garden, to water the flowers, and to keep the weeds from choking up the blossoming plants and shrubs; and while engaged in this work, he would chirp and whistle to the dear little birds who came to watch him, and to sing him sweet songs, as they swung merrily upon the branches of the one cherry-tree that the garden contained.