"That's a dear child," said her friend. "You must never again forget that, although you are poor, and must live in this world for a while, you are in truth a little exiled princess, and your glorious home is with the great King, your Father, in the skies; and it does not become the daughter of so great a King to put herself on a level with the beasts; but you must lift yourself up more and more towards heaven." The little girl looked at her, and straightened her figure to its greatest possible height. "Not to carry yourself proudly, as the daughter of an earthly king might do," continued the lady, "but be above doing a mean or low thing, and try to be heavenly and pure, like your blessed Lord and Father; and then he will lift you up to his beautiful, high throne." The child's head drooped again, and she looked despondingly at her teacher, as if she did not really know what to do. "I'm going now," said the lady; "but I shall come once a week to see how you get on. I shall not expect the cobwebs to gather any more in the cottage, nor the dust to collect upon the floor, nor to shut out the sun from the window, nor the little princess's face to be dirty and ugly; because that would offend the pure and holy God, who made this world fresh and clean and beautiful, and expects his children to keep it so. Do you think you will remember 'Our Father'?" "'Who art in heaven,'" said the child, calling to mind the prayer taught her some time in her life, but long since almost forgotten. "Not in heaven _only_, dear child," said the lady. "I want you to think of him as close beside you always, wherever you go. Can you read?" "A little." The lady opened a pocket-Bible, and drawing the little girl closer to her, said, "Now, say after me,-- "'Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.' "You see, my dear child," said she, as she reverently closed the book, "we cannot get away from God if we would, and surely we would not try to hide ourselves from so kind a Friend and Father if we could. Only when we are doing something that we are ashamed of do we shun the face of one who loves us; and if we try to flee from the eye of God we may be sure we are guilty of some wickedness. How much sweeter is it to do what we know will please him, and look freely up into his face, as a good child delights to meet his earthly parent's smile!" The lady rose to go, and the child looked wistfully at her and then at the little Bible.