Now, as he listened to Mr. Holbrook, and heard how Johnny, little Johnny
whom he loved, had surely gone up there to be with Christ for ever, and
how Jesus, looking down on the father and mother, and the children who
were left, said to them, "I want you, too, to give Me your hearts, so
that when I gather My jewels I may come for you." The weak, struggling
resolves in his heart grew strong, and he said within himself, while the
tears fell slowly down his cheeks, "I will; I'll begin to-day."

The coffin-lid was screwed down, and Johnny's baby-face shut out from
them for ever. A man came forward and took the light burden in his arms,
and bore it out to the waggon; down the narrow street they drove, to the
burial-ground, which was not far away. 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.