Occasionally she, too, listens to the sound of angel voices, and it makes her heart rejoice; but her grand work seems to be in caring for others. CHAPTER IX. THE FORTUNES OF LITTLE GEORGIE. A child, young, fair, and innocent, lay dying among the pillows of a snowy couch in the upper room of a large and spacious house,—the only child of wealthy parents, whose hearts seemed breaking under the necessity of giving their loved one up to death,—for these parents had no idea or knowledge of the spirit world, and the power of its inhabitants to return to earth and to minister to their friends. All that skill could do or love suggest had been tried for the recovery of their one ewe lamb, but all in vain; slowly and surely the change was stealing upon him, and in a little while his spirit had joined the angel band. Out in the chilly streets, not far from the stately mansion of which I have written, another child, as young and fair and innocent as the first, sat shivering with cold, and trembling with hunger. What was to be his fate? who could tell? This was the offspring of poor, respectable parents; the father had passed to the spirit world, the mother had earned her bread by hard labor, until an attack of acute bronchial trouble threatened her life, and she had been taken to the hospital for treatment, where she still lingered, battling with disease; while her little boy, uncared for and alone, sat in the street, or roamed about, picking up a bit here and there as best he could, returning at night to the humble room he had always called home, to throw himself upon his lowly bed and weep himself to sleep. You may ask, in doubt, “Can such things be? Are such things allowed in a Christian land?” and we answer: “Yes; here in your boasted civilized country, little children, the pride and flowers of humanity, are permitted to struggle up through poverty, hunger, cold, and misery; and then you wonder at the existence of crime, the spread of evil.” SHADOWS ON EARTHLY PATHS. The child of the wealthy parents passed to the higher life, leaving that elegant home lonely and desolate, and those parents’ hearts sad and sorrowful. The mother of the little street-waif also passed on to the other world, leaving her beloved boy homeless and destitute; for the authorities, finding that the woman was no more, sent to her former home to ascertain the whereabouts of her friends. The neighbors could tell the messenger nothing, only that there was a little boy of about eight years; but they had seen nothing of him of late. Of the woman they knew little; she had been a hard-working, decent body, who minded her own business and did not talk much.