how to be good."

"Oh, but it takes so long; I have asked and asked so often."

Again that beautiful smile beamed over the dying man's face.

"He will hear you--He has heard you--I felt that you had need of me,
and came; see how God has answered your want in this, my child!"

"But I can do nothing alone; when you are with me, I feel strong;
but if you leave me, what can I do?"

"Pray without ceasing; and in everything give thanks," said that faint
gentle voice once more.

"But I have prayed till my heart seemed full of tears."

"They were sweet tears, Mary."

"No, no; my heart grew heavy with them; and--mother, how could I give
thanks when she came home so--!"

"Hush, hush, Mary--it is your mother!"

"But I can't give thanks for that, when I remember how she let you
suffer--how miserable everything was--how she left you to starve,
day by day, spending all the money you had laid up in drink!"

"Oh, my child, my child!" cried the dying man, sweeping the tears
from his eyes with one pale hand, and dropping it heavily on her