Little Snow has gone into the Belovéd City; but alas for the hearts that strive to follow her and cannot! But her sweet little body is a layin’ close by the side of the little girl who went to sleep there thirty years ago. Over her is a small headstone bearin’ this inscription: “Little Snow,” and under it are the only words that can give any comfort when they are cut in the marble over a child’s grave: “He carries the lambs in His bosom.” And so as the years go on the leaves and blossoms will rustle in the soft mornin’ breeze over the two little girls sleepin’ in peace side by side in the old garden. I wonder if they have found each other up in the other garden that our faith looks up to—if they have made garlands of the sweet flowers that have no earthly taint on ’em and don’t fade away, and crowned each other’s pretty heads. I wonder if they ever lean over the battlements of Heaven and drop any of them sweet posies on the bare, hard pathways their friends that they left below have to walk in. Mebby so; mebby, when in our hard, toilsome day marches, a hint of some strange brightness and glory touches our poor tired spirits, when some strange comfort and warmth seem to come sudden and sweet onto us, comin’ from we know not where—mebby, who knows, but it is from the glowin’ warmth and beauty of them sweet invisible flowers that we cannot see, but yet are a lyin’ in our pathway, droppin’ on our poor tired heads and hearts. I don’t know as it _is_ so, and then, agin, I don’t know as it hain’t so. [Illustration: “EXILED BIRDS.”] CHAPTER XIX. WHEN a long flight of exiled birds stand ready to leave the South land for their old home again, whence they fled before the stormy blasts— As they are drawn up in a line, high in the mornin’ sky waitin’ for the leader’s signal to raise their wings and strike out northward through the pathless fields of blue— If some cruel shot strikes down that gallant leader, the hull flock is bewildered and full of panic and distress for a time. But a new leader takes his place, and the solid phalanx rises up and takes wing for their old home, which is again to them the new. The flight goes on just the same, and perhaps no one but his mate feels the loneliness and emptiness of the clear blue sky. Though mebby, if she is so blessed, she may feel the waftin’ of shadow wings beside her, and a nearer presence than the livin’. Felix took the place of leader in the enterprise, and though it wuz delayed for a little time, it went on to success. Though the great heart that planned it lay silent in death. Perhaps Genieve felt that his influence wuz still guidin’ her, that he wuz helpin’ the colony still; that bowin’ down in the presence of the Crucified, he brought gifts of surer success to his people than he could if he wuz still with them in the mortal body.