fairly kissed out the old year on another chubby cheek, which nestled
among the pillows. At length she sought her own rest.

Soon she found herself in a singular place. She was traversing a vast
plain. No trees were visible, save those which skirted the distant
horizon, and on their broad tops rested wreaths of golden clouds. Before
her was a female, who was journeying towards that region of light.
Little children were about her, now in her arms, now running by her
side, and as they travelled, she occupied herself in caring for them.
She taught them how to place their little feet--she gave them timely
warnings of the pit-falls--she gently lifted them over the
stumbling-blocks. When they were weary, she soothed them by singing of
that brighter land, which she kept ever in view, and towards which she
seemed hastening with her little flock. But what was most remarkable
was, that, all unknown to her, she was constantly watched by two angels,
who reposed on two golden clouds which floated above her. Before each
was a golden book, and a pen of gold. One angel, with mild and loving
eyes, peered constantly over her right shoulder--another kept as strict
watch over her left. Not a deed, not a word, not a look, escaped their
notice. When a good deed, word, look, went from her, the angel over the
right shoulder with a glad smile, wrote it down in his book; when an
evil, however trivial, the angel over the left shoulder recorded it in
his book--then with sorrowful eyes followed the pilgrim until he
observed penitence for the wrong, upon which he dropped a tear on the
record, and blotted it out, and both angels rejoiced.

To the looker-on, it seemed that the traveller did nothing which was
worthy of such careful record. Sometimes she did but bathe the weary
feet of her little children, but the angel over the _right
shoulder_--wrote it down. Sometimes she did but patiently wait to lure