flower. Oh! I wish we could have something to love that wouldn't die."

The day passed. During the school hours, George and Mary had almost
forgotten that their tree was dying; but at evening, as they drew their
chairs to the table where their mother was sitting, and began to arrange
the seeds they had been gathering, the remembrance of the tree came upon
them.

"Mother," said Mary, "you may give these seeds to cousin John; I never
want another garden."

"Yes," added George, pushing the papers in which he had carefully folded
them towards his mother, "you may give them all away. If I could find
some seeds of a tree that would never fade, I should like then to have a
garden. I wonder, mother, if there ever was such a garden?"

"Yes, George, I have read of a garden where the trees never die."

"A _real_ garden, mother?"

"Yes, my son. In the middle of the garden, I have been told, there runs
a pure river of water, clear as crystal, and on each side of the river
is the _tree of life_,--a tree that never fades. That garden is
_heaven_. There you may love and love for ever. There will be no
death--no fading there. Let your treasure be in the tree of life, and
you will have something to which your young hearts can cling, without
fear, and without disappointment. Love the Saviour here, and he will
prepare you to dwell in those green pastures, and beside those still
waters."