Nannie was off in a minute for her sun-bonnet, and very soon was walking with her mother and Jack through the tree-bordered lane; very quietly now though, for she knows that grannie is dying, and she thinks to herself, "Grannie will be in heaven to-night," and the little face brightens as she thinks of the beauties of the heavenly city; "and grannie will see too--why, how happy she must be! I should think good people would love to die. It's like going to some beautiful world we've heard of." But as Nannie looked up at the trees, and the heavy white clouds above them, and then down at the green carpet of grass at her feet, she thought it would be _leaving_ a beautiful world too. Now they reach the little brown house, and Nannie begins to feel a little frightened. She creeps in timidly behind her mother, and sits down at the foot of the bed, while Jack sits down on the door-step. Soon grannie says feebly,-- "Has Nannie come?" "Yes," said her mother; "Nannie's here." "Nannie, come where I can touch you." As Nannie comes nearer, grannie stretches out her hand, and laying it on her head, says in a low voice,-- "God bless thee--God bless thee, my child! I have never seen you here, Nannie, but I shall know you in heaven. I shan't need to ask you to read to me there, for I shall see. But read to me here once more, Nannie--once more." Nannie lifts up for the last time grannie's worn Bible, and begins to read, as she has so often read before,-- _"And I saw a new heaven and a new earth."_ Very still it was in the chamber of death, while the little head bowed over the sacred book, and the tearful voice read of the glories of that land whither the wearied one was going. Fainter and fainter grew the breath; and as the child read the words, _"And the city hath no need of the sun or moon to lighten it, for the Lamb is the light thereof,"_ the lids closed over the sightless eyes here--but opened there, where the Lamb is the light. Grannie Burt was in heaven. Long she listened for His footsteps, Echoing from those streets of gold-- Now just within the pearly gates, She is no longer old. The pilgrim-staff is broken-- The worn-out garment fold And lay away for ever,-- She is no longer old. Farewell, farewell, our mother! Our greatest joy is told, As we fold the aged hands and say, She is no longer old. Twice have the trees blossomed, and twice the autumn leaves fallen, since first we met our little friend Nannie. We have given but a few pages in the life of those few years; there have been many others--some, perhaps, in which the little girl forgot to ask for help in her trying, and therefore failed. It may seem hard to be trying on and on, never yielding to discouragement; but if you should see Nannie's bright eyes and happy face, you would not think so; and if you should ask Nannie if she was tired of trying, I think she would answer, _"Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace."_