"And we'll know them by our love!" lingering fondly on the repetition with lustrous, far-seeing gaze. The woman clasped the child to her breast with a passionate embrace, while rising to meet a supreme hour. (The child must not--shall not be disappointed and his beautiful faith shattered). "Phillip!" she said, "listen. The angel sent me to tell you that Jesus had gone into heaven, and to take you to your papa. Come!" Without a moment's hesitation he took his messenger's (?) hand and passed out of the gates, looking not backward by a glance. Expectation held him silent, while the woman's face was illumined by a great light. Entering the door of a pleasant house, she passed on through the hall into the dining-room, saying to the maid: "Bring some food for this dear child; he has fasted all day." A pitcher of milk and a plate of bread and honey were set beside a plate of cold, broiled fish. "Now I know this is the house," the boy exclaimed exultingly, "for they had the fish, the bread and the honey! It's all here, just the same, and he'll come to-night!" Turning swiftly to the hall, the woman almost flew along the corridor to meet her husband's steps. Drawing him to one side, she told with rapture of her encounter and the sweet expectancy below. "Now, Harold, Heaven has sent us a child, who shall be the angel to roll away the stone from our grave. His wonderful vision must not be darkened, neither his faith destroyed. Rise, my husband, to the most glorious hour of your life. 'I shall know him by the love,' he said. Let us see that he does." Returning for the child and extending her hand with a smile, he eagerly asked, "Will you wash and comb me to meet my papa? It isn't too late yet, is it?" The voice was half a sob, but full of hope. The ineffable trust pierced her heart while reassuring him with swift, tender tones. "Come, Phillip, we will go to him," she cried tremblingly. As she opened the door upon a winning, noble-faced man with tears on his cheek, smiling with outstretched arms upon the boy, he hesitated a moment, took one step forward and then leaped into the open arms, threw his noble head back, and gazed with lustrous, questioning eyes. "You don't look like my papa, quite." "No?" (anxiously). "'Cause you are changed. But I know you by the love, and you know me, don't you?" "By the love, dear boy," with shining eyes, but marble lips. The child nestled down upon the breast, his chest heaving, while the man stroked the soft curls, soothing him with every word known to love's alphabet, till finally, crooning a cradle song, the exhausted child fell asleep. He had found a father by the love. His faith was saved, and by it, she who had groped blindly among the tombs had found her Easter. --_From the Christian Observer_, March 30, 1904. By Mrs. Helen Strong Thompson. FOOTNOTES: [256:A] _St. Luke, xxiv, 13._ 257