As we passed the yard where we had seen the rocking-horse, we found two ladies standing¹ near the gate. Presently one of them took a key from her pocket, unlocked it and went in; and then a gentleman of our party recognized in her an old friend.

 

"This is where our dear Willie is buried," said the lady. "His mother made me promise to come very often to visit the place."

 

"The last time I saw him, he was riding on his rocking-horse," replied the gentleman, gazing round him with new interest.

 

"Do you remember how he loved to sing?"

 

"Yes, ah, yes! but, his songs are ended, now."

 

"No, indeed!" exclaimed the lady, earnestly; "they are but just begun; I often think how he used to walk with me hour after hour on the beach, humming to himself his favorite hymn,—

 

 

"'I have a Father in the promised land,

I have a Father in the promised land.

My Father calls me, I must go

To meet him in the promised land.'"

 

"How little his mother or any of us realized that his Father was calling him."

 

"Dear child!" I exclaimed, trying to keep back my tears. "And was he willing to go at last?"

 

"He was almost impatient to be gone. One day his mother sat bathing his hot head, and she said, 'Willie, are you going to leave mother all alone? I thought you loved your sea-side home,—that you liked to hear the waves roar and dash up against the rocks; I didn't think you would be so glad to leave us all.'"

 

"He looked sadly in her face for a minute, drew her hand to his mouth and kissed it, and then smiles lighted up his pale face as he began to sing,—

 

 

"'I have a Saviour² in the promised land,

I have a Saviour in the promised land.

My Saviour calls me, I must go

To meet him in the promised land.'"

 

"'Don't cry so, mother,' he said, as he felt her tears drop on his hand; 'do let me sing the rest.' And then in a voice almost of rapture³ he went on,—"

 

 

"'I'll away, I'll away to the promised land,

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