GRANDMOTHER, see my beautiful dress," exclaimed a gayly attired little girl, slipping into her grandmother's bedroom; "see how it fits, and how becoming it is." 

She walked to and fro before her grandmother, and turned around this side and that side.

"Very pretty," said, her grandmother, faintly smiling; "but it is not what I should choose for you."

"Oh! Father says pink is so becoming to my complexion:" what color would you choose, grandmother?" said the little girl, fingering the pink trimmings on her pink robe, as if no trimmings equaled hers, and she was proud to wear them.

"White; pure, shining white."

"Mother says I tear white dresses so, I do not deserve to have one," answered the little girl.

"This will never tear."

"O grandmother, think how awful I look in my outgrown white dress?" and the little girl seemed to shrink from the very thought of another white dress.

"This you could never outgrow."

"Always fit me! Why grandmother, you don't mean so! Now, grandmother, you are making fun," and yet the little girl looked into her grandmother's face and saw that it looked as mild and serious as it ever did. 

"Could I burn it?" asked the little questioner, for she remembered what a hole that hot stove had made in her new plaid dress one cold winter's day.

"No fire can burn it," answered the grandmother.

"No sun can fade it?"

"No. Neither can the rain wet it."

"O grandmother, I know; it's made of asbestos you mean an asbestos dress;" and she leaned upon her grandmother's knee, looking eagerly into her face. Perhaps all the children know that asbestos is a mineral that can be made into threads, and woven into garments which heat cannot consume.

The grandmother shook her head.

"If it's such a beautiful white, I should soil it very easily, I suppose."

"Yes, you would soon soil it; even a thought, a wrong thought, would sully its delicacy. And it will shield you from harm."

"I should like that. Is it so very strong, then?"

"So strong my little girl never could wear it out; and then it becomes more beautiful the longer you keep it carefully," said the good lady.

"How careful Nancy would have to be in washing it!" exclaimed the child.

"I don't think it ever needs washing."

"O grandmother! Well, will it be becoming? Shall I look pretty in it?" asked the little girl, eagerly.

"You could wear nothing so beautiful. It has so very precious ornaments, a great deal handsomer and more costly than your gold chain or coral necklace."

The eyes of the child danced with delight.

"Are they always worn with it?:

"Yes, always. You should never lay them aside, for fear of losing them."

"Why, I never saw such a dress! said she, looking thoughtfully, 

"Where can I buy one?"

"There is one already bought for you, my child."

"O!" and she looked surprised 

"O, I am so glad! Who bought it for me?"

"Your best friend."

"You, grandmother did you buy it?  How very good you are!" said she, earnestly regarding her grandmother's face.

"No, it was not I, a better friend than I;" and she spoke solemnly.

"Oh, you mean something," said the child; "what is this dress so wonderful? I am sure I want one."

"This dress is the garment of salvation. It was bought by Jesus Christ at a great price even his life; its ornaments are a meek and quiet spirit. Will my dear little girl wear this beautiful garment?"

"I wish I could," breathed the little one.

"Then you'd have a wardrobe for eternity, my Mary, fitting you for the company of the heavenly host of the upper world, where the redeemed are hymning their songs of praise."

Who will not wear this beautiful garment? Who will get ready this wardrobe for eternity?