"Oh, mother, mother! I wish I was with you! Others can die, why not I? No one loves me! Oh, I wish I were dead!" Tired and exhausted by the exertions in the water, he soon fell asleep, and remained so until the sun was just rising next morning. All his sorrow, all the injustice of the night before came rushing back to his mind. Hastily dressing himself, and then taking from his desk paper and pen, he wrote: You have told me to get out of your sight, father. I shall. You will never see me again. You need not search for me. I am going to try and find my mother. When Eddie is better, you will hear the truth, and feel your injustice to WILLIE. Folding this, and leaving it on his table, he stole down and made his way into town, not quite determined what to do. His first thought was to seek the river, and in its quiet waters end his sorrows. Oh! why would not death come to him? How quiet the city was! Usually so many were stirring about at that hour. No market wagons or bread carts about. Oh, now he remembered, it was Thanksgiving Day. On he walked, and then came in sight of the church where his mother used to go, and then memories of all her holy teachings. Should he find her if he attempted self-destruction? What could he do? He could not live on! Surely God would forgive him! Then he thought he would go once more into that church, and then--Heaven only knows what next. Waiting in the park until church time, he retraced his steps and reached the door just as the beautiful hymn, "Come, ye disconsolate," rose into the air. Going in while the words "Here bring your wounded hearts" filled his ear, he crept up into the gallery and seated himself near the choir. He grew somewhat calm, and his mind was, for the time, diverted from his sorrows by the sight of a little girl seated beside one of the singers--her mother, he thought. The happy, beaming face of the little one interested him very much. The services over, he followed close behind her, endeavoring to get another look at her, wondering if she was ever sad! And, standing at the church door as she was about to enter a carriage waiting, in which a lady and gentleman were already seated, he thought: "Oh, what kind, loving parents she must have to make her look so joyous!" His face wore a very sad expression. The little girl turned, caught the sorrowful look bent on her, then stepped suddenly back, went up to our Willie, and said, with the winning grace and perfect simplicity of a child of six: "Here, little boy, you look so sad, I am very sorry for you. Take my flowers."