Tip had never paid such close attention to anything in his life as he did to Mr. Holbrook's words; after that they were very simple and plain spoken, so that a child might understand them, and were about heaven, that beautiful city of which Tip had heard and thought more during the last three weeks than he ever had in his life before. His heart had been in a constant Struggle with Satan, ever since that morning in the Sabbath school. He didn't know enough to understand that it was Satan's evil voice which was constantly persuading him that he could not be anybody, that-he was only a poor, miserable, ragged boy, with nobody to help him, nobody to show him what to do; that he might as well not try to be anything but what he was; and he didn't know either that the other voice in his heart which struggled with the evil counsel, which said to him, "Other boys as poor and ignorant as you are have reformed; that Robert did about whom the teacher told you; and then, if you don't, you will never see that river nor the fountain, nor the streets of gold," was the dear, loving voice of his Redeemer. Now, as he listened to Mr. Holbrook, and heard how Johnny, little Johnny whom he loved, had surely gone up there to be with Christ for ever, and how Jesus, looking down on the father and mother, and the children who were left, said to them, "I want you, too, to give Me your hearts, so that when I gather My jewels I may come for you." The weak, struggling resolves in his heart grew strong, and he said within himself, while the tears fell slowly down his cheeks, "I will; I'll begin to-day." The coffin-lid was screwed down, and Johnny's baby-face shut out from them for ever. A man came forward and took the light burden in his arms, and bore it out to the waggon; down the narrow street they drove, to the burial-ground, which was not far away. They laid Johnny down to sleep under the shade of a large old tree; and the grass waved softly, and the birds sang low, and the angels surely sang in heaven, because another little form was numbered among the thousands of children who stand "around the Throne." The people moved slowly from the grave,--all but Tip; he didn't want to leave Johnny; he wanted to follow him, and he didn't know how. Mr. Holbrook glanced back at the boy standing there alone, paused a moment, then, turning back, laid his hand gently on Tip's shoulder. "You can go up there too, my boy, if you will," he said, in a low, kind tone. Tip looked up quickly, then down again; he wanted to ask how--what he should do; but his voice choked, he could not speak a word; and with the earnest sentence, "God bless you, my little friend, and lead you to Himself," Mr. Holbrook turned and left him.