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.
Tip wandered away into the woods for a little.

When he returned the earth was heaped up fresh and black over the new mound, and Johnny was left underneath it all alone.

Tip walked around it slowly, trying to take in the thought that the baby was lying there; that they should never see him again; trying, a moment after, to take in the thought that he was not there at all, but had gone up to the beautiful world which the hymn told about; then he thought of the chorus, and almost felt it.--"I long, I long, I long to be there." Tip had heard people pray; he had been to Sabbath school often enough to catch and remember most of the words of the Lord's Prayer; he knew enough of God to understand that He could hear prayer, and that His help must be asked if one wanted to get to heaven.

He hesitated a moment, glanced half fearfully around him,--no one was there, no one but himself, and Johnny, lying low at his feet, and God looking down upon him.