“This Hand Never Struck Me”

WE recently heard the following most touching

incident. A little boy had died. His body was

laid out in a darkened, retired room, waiting to 

be laid away in the lone, cold grave.

His afflicted mother and bereaved little sister

went in to look at the sweet face of the precious

sleeper, for his face was beautiful even in death.

As they stood gazing upon the form of one so

cherished and beloved, the little girl asked to

 take his hand. The mother at first did not think

 it best, but as her child repeated the request,

 and seemed very anxious about it, she took the

 cold, bloodless hand of her sleeping boy and 

placed it in the hand of his weeping sister. The

 dear child looked at it a moment, caressed it

 fondly, and then looked up to her mother 

through the tears of affection and love, and said,

 "Mother, this little hand never struck me!"

What could be more touching and lovely?

Young readers, have you always been so gentle

 to your brothers and sisters, that were you to 

die, such a tribute as this could be paid to your

 memory? Could a brother or a sister take your

 hand, were it cold in death, and say, "This hand

 never struck me?"

What an alleviation to our grief, when we are

 called to part with friends, to be able to 

remember only words and actions of mutual 

kindness and love. How bitter must be the 

sorrow, and how scalding the tears of an unkind

 child, as he looks On the cold form, or stands at

 the grave of a brother or sister, a father or

 mother, towards whom he had manifested

 unkindness. Let us all remember, that whatever

 we sow in this respect, that we shall also reap. 

Well Spring-.