You will have friends to love, that death may take away from you—­and, oh! then, the shadow of the woodland, as it lies against the sunny meadow, will be less dark than your life.  But do not despair.  The few rays of light that reach you will be richer, the flowers will be purer, and the music will be softer and sweeter; for you will be nearer heaven than you were before.

There is another shadow which you and I, and all of us, are approaching,—­“the shadow of death.”  But will not “the lesson” brighten our approach even to that?  Certain I am, that if that hour of my childhood, when, with a fearful heart, I went into the solemn woods, and heard the sweet singing of the bird and the breeze, shall be remembered then, even though the light of life be fading away, “I shall fear no evil.”

[Illustration]

[Illustration:  FLORENCE DREW.]

FLORENCE DREW.

“I will not go to Sabbath school to-morrow,” said Florence Drew, as she threw aside her catechism and sat herself sullenly by the window.

“Florence!” said her mother; “I am astonished to hear you speak so rashly.”

“I don’t care,—­I will not go,—­my lesson is so hard I can’t get it;” saying which, she burst into tears.  Mrs. Drew cast a look of sorrow upon her only child as she left her to regain her good humor.

No sooner had the door closed after her mother than the rustling of leaves beneath the window drew the attention of Florence.  Thinking it her favorite Carlo, and being in no mood for a frolic, without lifting her eyes she bid him “begone;” but she was soon undeceived by a shrill voice pronouncing her name, at the same time finding her arm tightly grasped by the thin, bony fingers of Crazy Nell, the terror of all the truant children in the village.  The terrified child vainly tried to disengage herself from the maniac’s hold; and, finding her calls for help all unheeded, she gave up in despair.

The wild, searching eyes of Crazy Nell detected her terror, and her stern features relaxed into a smile as she said, “Poor child!  I will not harm you; you fear me, and think me mad; yes, I have been mad, but I’m not now; and I have come to save you from being as I have been.  Nay, Florence, ’t is useless for you to try to escape me; I will detain you but a short time.  I heard your angry words as I was gathering herbs, and saw you fling your book away.  I heard all.  Listen to me, Florence Drew, and I will tell you a story by which I hope you will profit.

“I was once young, gay, and happy, as you, and, like you, an only and indulged, but wilful child, with a quick and ungoverned temper.

“One day, I was studying my Sabbath school lesson, and finding it, as I thought, rather hard, I threw it away, as you did yours, saying that I would not go to school at all.  My poor mother’s entreaties were all unheeded by me, and I grew up in idleness and ignorance.  My mother’s health daily declined, partly through my ill-treatment and wickedness.  Often did she plead with me, with tears streaming down her cheeks, to alter my conduct; but I rudely repulsed her.”