child when it came back from the infant school, and climbed up on her
lap, or stood with its hands behind its back, to repeat some pretty
verses about flowers, or about the God who made them. That child was
Fanny, the flower-girl; and ah! how little did good Mrs. Newton think
she would be selling flowers in the streets to help to support her.

But it came to pass, that when Fanny was nearly six years old, Mrs.
Newton's husband fell very ill; it was a very bad, and very expensive
illness, for poor Mrs. Newton was so uneasy, she would sometimes have
two doctors to see him; but all would not do; he died: and Mrs.
Newton was left very poorly off.

In a short time she found she could not keep on her pretty cottage;
she was obliged to leave it; and the church where she had gone every
Sunday for so many years; and the church-yard where her husband was
buried, and little Fanny's mother; and the infant school where Fanny
learned so much; and the dear little garden, and the flowers that
were Fanny's teachers and favorites. Oh! how sorry was poor Mrs.
Newton. But even a little child can give comfort; and so little
Fanny, perhaps without thinking to do so, did; for when Mrs. Newton
for the last time sat out in her garden, and saw the setting sun go
down, and told Fanny she was going to leave that pretty garden, where
she had from infancy been taught to know God's works, the child
looked very sad and thoughtful indeed, for some time; but afterwards
coming up to her, said,

"But, grandmother, we shall not leave God, shall we? for you say God
is everywhere, and He will be in London too."

And oh! how that thought consoled poor Mrs. Newton; she did not