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ON a warm day in June a widow was seen drawing a wooden cart over a common. In the cart was a boy, whose head lay on a clean white pillow. His long hair spread over his forehead, and curled on his pale cheeks. There was in his face the look of days of pain and sorrow.

For more than an hour the little wooden cart rolled along the path, and the poor boy looked around on all the pleasant things to be seen on that fine day. The flowers and birds, the blue sky and green fields, were all objects of joy to him.

"Who can that little boy be? Where does he live? And who is that poor widow who is drawing him in the cart?"

So thought a lady as she saw them on that bright day in June.

"Pardon me," she said to the widow; "I have been looking at your dear boy. His pale but happy face has quite won my heart."

"Thank you," replied the widow; "my Jamie is a cripple, and can not run about and play like other boys of his years; but he is quite happy when I draw him out in his cart in the morning, before I go to my daily work."

"But you look tired; you must rest under this tree, and then you can tell me about him. How old is he?"

"About ten."

"Was he always a cripple?" asked the lady.

"Oh, no; he was as fine a baby as ever a fond mother had, said the mother, and tear stood in her eye ; "but when he was six months old his young sister let him fall from her arms one day, while I was away at work. He was very much hurt, and was ill for many months; but as I was so poor, I could not do all I wished to do for him. A kind doctor watched over him, and tried to make him well, though he knew I had no money to pay him for all he did. I had to go each day to work for a family a good way from home; and every morning, day by day, and week by week, I kissed his little face, thinking never more to see him alive. But God was good, and spared him to comfort his mother."

"But he must be a great care to you, with all the other trials you have in life," said the lady.

"Oh, no; he is the greatest blessing I have on earth. To be sure, God did not see fit to make him strong and well, for his spine was very much injured by that fall. But every morning, before I leave home, I place everything which he will need on the little table, by a chair. This stands near the window, and that part of our little room is always known as 'Jamie's corner.'

"When I and my daughter go home at night," continued the mother, "tired with the labors of the day, I always see his sweet, pale face at the window; he watches for our return. When he sees me his face lights up with what some folks would call a sweet smile. I forget my weary state in a prayer of gratitude to Him who gave me such a comfort in my life of trouble, and humbly ask God that he will long spare me this blessing. I rise an hour earlier, in order to enjoy this morning walk with him, and my happiness is all crowded into the brief time I spend with him."

"But I should think Jamie would be very lonely while you are away."

"That was what I often feared; but he tells me that, though he misses me sadly, he is never lonely. Jamie, dear, tell this lady how you amuse yourself when I have gone to work," said she, turning to her boy.

He had been looking about him, and so occupied with his own thoughts that the conversation had passed unobserved by him. He now looked up into her face. She repeated what she before said.

"Oh, no; I am not lonely," he replied. "I am busy all the day, working on my toys; or, when I get tired, in reading Lucy's Sabbath-school books. The boys from the next house often come in on Wednesday or Saturday afternoons and read to me. I like to have them come and sit with me, for then I can work and learn too."

"But don't you ever wish you could go to school with them?"

"I am very happy as I am. I think God is good to me, and I thank him for giving me such a kind mother and dear sister. Why, I have just the prettiest rose-tree in my window that you ever saw! Almost every month it brings me a blossom. The first one in the year I give to mother; the next to Lucy. I never keep one on the stem to wither, for all my friends love 'Jamie's roses,' as they call them, and 'tis all I have to give those I love. A kind lady gave me the bush, and told me to learn a hymn for each blossom it gave. If you will come to-morrow, you shall have a blossom."

"Thank-you, Jamie; I would like very much to visit you and your rose-bush, and will try to call."

As it was now time for Mrs. M___ to go to her home, she bade the lady good-morning, thanking her for her "kindness." Jamie gave her a smile, and the little cart rolled away.

About ten o'clock the next morning, the lady went into the alley where Mrs. M- lived. She wondered which of the many miserable houses hers could be, but she soon saw little Jamie's face at an open window.

As she passed into the room where he sat, he expressed much joy at seeing her. Before leaving, his thoughtful mother had placed a chair for the lady, quite near him and his little table. On the table lay a Bible and a hymn-book, together with a few little story-books. The blooming rose was one of the sweetest kind, and perfumed the whole room as it stood near the window.

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The visitor praised it as its beauty warranted, and, begging he would not remove its only blossom for her, promised to call again.

The table was strewn with bits of wood, while many pretty little images and toys, carved by his own knife, were ranged in order next the wall.

In this way the poor crippled child supported his feeble life, and provided many a little comfort for his loving mother.

"Do you never get weary of life, Jamie?"

"Sometimes I get very tired, for I am never free from pain ; and often, for whole days, I can not get from my bed into this pleasant little corner, my back pains me so; but I lie still and try to think about Jesus, and of the time when I shall never more get tired with pain."

"Do you feel afraid to die ?"

"It don't seem as though there was any such thing as dying for me, for when I go to heaven I shall just begin to live. I shall not be a cripple there, but shall walk up and down those shining streets, which my Bible tells about, with mother and sister Lucy. No one will there know that I was the 'little cripple,' who always had to ride on his little cart wherever he went."

Shall you not feel sorry to leave your mother, and die alone? -- for we all have to go through death alone; we can not take our loved ones with us."

"The Saviour will take care of me till she comes. Mother taught me this nice text, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for those art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.' He seems a precious Saviour to me now; how much more must I love him in heaven."

The lady looked at the child in astonishment.

"You seem in a very happy frame of mind, my dear boy; have you always felt thus?"

"No, I used to be afraid to die, until I heard what Christ did to give me a home in heaven, and what a happy place it is. I know he loves even me, a poor little cripple boy, and, if I believe in him, will forgive me my sins. Sometimes, when I am all alone, I try to keep thinking of Christ.

"He knows that I love him," he added; "for when I am alone I often pray to him, and tell him how dear he is to my soul; and I pray for everybody I know, that he will give them all a happy, happy home in heaven."

"Well, Jamie, I am glad to find you so happy," said the lady. "Life is uncertain, and we ought so to live that each day we may be prepared to hear the voice of our heavenly Father calling us to his arms. As we know not when the hour cometh, we ought to be always prepared to leave these earthly scenes, and enter upon a better state."

"I don't think I shall live long. Every morning when mother goes away, I watch her till she turns the corner, for I think perhaps I may not see her again. Dear mother! I don't tell her of these thoughts, for I know they would only trouble her; and as long as I am here, I will try to be her 'sunshine,' as she often calls me."

"That's right, Jamie; next to God, love that mother who so tenderly cares for you. But I have made a long call; I must go now, though I will try to come again. Good-bye."

A few weeks passed, and the lady was told that Jamie had become much worse. She hurried to see and comfort him. There was no pleasant face at the window as she passed up the court. All was still.

She went in, to find the almost distracted mother weeping over the dead body of her son. There he lay, with his white face calm in death. The little hands, so busy with toy-work during her last visit, were calmly laid by his side. He was now, as he so longed to be, at rest.

Some unfinished toys lay about the room, his chair stood in its usual place, the rosebush, with a bright new blossom, stood where she last saw it. She took the blossom, and, kissing it, laid it upon his little shroud.

How cheerless now, she thought, will seem this abode to the another! How often, as she returns from daily toil, will she shut her eyes and recall the little face she used to see at the windowpane!

When the lady called to mind what a cheerful, happy, loving spirit that afflicted boy displayed ; when his mother told her how, for years, he had rendered happy all around him by his uncomplaining nature, causing all to forget their sorrows by the messages of peace which he repeated from his loved book, the Bible, she grieved to think how many little boys and girls, who have everything that heart could wish, do not love the Saviour, or do anything to advance his blessed cause.

Think, little reader, are you well and strong? If so, what do you do for Jesus, who died for you on the cross, and shed his precious blood to take your sins away? He might have made you like "crippled Jamie." See how much you have to be thankful for. Then give your heart to Jesus and try to do something to promote his glory on earth.

Perhaps you will say, "Why, what can I do for Jesus ?" You can speak kindly to the poor, and show them you love them just as well as the rich. Kind words and bright smiles are worth much to them, and cost you nothing. If you know a little child who has not heard much of Jesus, tell his sweet story, and take that child to the Sabbath school where kind teachers will tell more about him. Strive to do good, and, truly believing in Jesus, he will be a kind friend to you when all earthly friends shall fail.