The lost friend
The lost friend
“Oneweek ago, there was a little boy playing here; I wish that I could see him now. I liked that little boy. I did not know why I liked him. I see a great many boys every day, but none looked so gay and so happy as he did. They told me he was ill. He cannot be still ill, for his cheek was soft and fair, and his step was strong. He was as old as I am, but not older; and when sometimes I have been ill, I have very soon got well again. Perhaps this woman can tell me where to find him. I am sure she is kind, for she stayed to give some money to that old man with white hair, who walks with a crutch; and she smiled too, as if she loved to do good. I will ask her, and she will take me to him.
“Good woman, will you tell me where I can find a little boy who played here last week, with bright hair like gold, and eyes that looked kind, and seemed to say that he was happy?”
When little Alice Grey had said this, the woman, to whom she spoke, led her by the hand to where an old church stood; ivy had grown all over its walls, and round it on every side were graves; a great, great many. Some of them had cold white stone over them; others had only flowers planted round, and pretty trees grew there, with long branches bent down, as if they too wept for the dead. There was a little mound of earth, that must have been newly made, for the grass over it was not fresh or green, but looked as if it had been cut up with a spade, and there were no flowers yet round about it.
When the woman came to the grave, she said, in a low, sad voice, “The little boy with the bright hair and the happy eye is laid there to sleep.”
Then Alice wept very much and said, “Mamma has often told me of this, but I did not think it would come so very true;” and she cried a great deal, and sat down beside the little grave, and said, “Six days ago I saw him, and now he has gone away: he will never play any more; yet, then he looked quite well and happy. He did not join with the other boys when they were bad; he did not even run after the blue butterflies; he said it might hurt them. Good little boy! he liked better to gather the wild flowers that grew about; and now, perhaps, he is gathering flowers in God’s own garden, in heaven.” When the woman saw that Alice was herself a good child, she sat down by her side, and took her hand in hers and said, “Yes, God is good, and he puts it into our hearts to hope and to think that the little child is happy in heaven, that wemay not be too sorry for his having gone away.
“He never wished to do evil; he loved everybody and everything that was good. He was gentle, and was never heard to speak what was not true; he was good to the poor, and when he had nothing else to give them, he gave them kind words, so that all blessed him; and God too will bless him, for he loves those who love him; so that we should not grieve that he is taken away, but be happy that he was ready to go. God calls the strong as well as the weak; little children as well as old people; and it may be, that you or I may soon be laid by the side of the little child. Shall we pray that by his side, also, we may see God when we rise from the grave?”
Then little Alice knelt by her side, and laid her head on the grave and prayed; and when they got up, she could not go again and play in the very spot where a few days before she had seen that pretty child at play; so that she went home, and put her arms round her mother’s neck, and said, “Mamma, teach me to be good, for God has taken a little child like me to the grave, and, perhaps, he may take me too before I am ready for heaven, if I do not from this very day begin to please him more.”