IT was a stormy evening in January. It had been very cold all day, but toward night it grew warmer, clouds came up rapidly from the northeast, and now it was snowing. Freddie Johnson, a bright, chubby little fellow of six years, was sitting by the fire, looking at the pictures in the last Nursery,- when his father said, "Come, Freddie, I am going to write a letter which I wish you to take to the post office for me. Run and put on your coat and hat. The letter will be ready as soon as you are."

"All right," said Freddie, who was accustomed to obey without asking questions, a rare trait in a little boy. 

Now the post-office was half a mile distant, and Freddie had never been there alone, though he had often gone with his father; but he was a courageous little fellow, and very proud of doing errands for "papa," so he did as he was bidden, and with his mamma's help was soon muffled up to his chin in overcoat and scarf; and when he came back for the letter, looked as if he could defy any storm. 

"Here, little Dutchman," said papa, "you see I have wrapped this letter up in paper so that it will not get wet. 

Now when you get to the office, take the paper off, and drop the letter into the box. Don't stop anywhere, but come directly back."

"Yes, sir," said Freddie; and then he whispered, "Papa, do you believe I shall see any dogs?" 

"No, dear," Mr. Johnson replied, "the dogs have all gone to bed, I guess. Now good-bye."

Freddie started off bravely. It was a very dark night, and he could only see a little way ahead, but on he trudged, wading through the deep snow, trying to whistle, as his Uncle Charlie did.

"Halloo, sir, where are you going?" said a man who met him on the way down.

"Post-office," said Freddie.

"Aren't you afraid you'll get lost?" asked the man in surprise.

"No, sir," said Freddie stoutly, as he passed on; "papa sent me."

He found the post-office without difficulty, dropped the letter into the box, and started for home. But we must go back a little in our story.

As soon as Freddie had left the house, his father hastily put on his overcoat and hat, and hurried after him. Walking on the opposite side of the street, and a little behind, he followed Freddie, keeping his eye on him all the way, to see that no harm came to his little boy. When they had nearly reached home, Mr. Johnson hurried ahead, and was calmly reading his paper when Freddie came in, looking more like a snowman he had built in the yard than like Freddie Johnson. Then what a greeting the little hero received! How his mamma and his aunties crowded around to help him off with his wraps, shake off the snow, and kiss his bright rosy cheeks! How his eyes sparkled with delight when his papa called him his "brave little boy," and told him he must hurry and grow up, for he needed in his store just such a clerk as Freddie would make! But it was now bedtime, and with a "good night" all round, Freddie went up stairs, and was soon sleeping soundly.

Now, children, this is a true story, and to me it has a beautiful lesson. 

Just as Freddie's father followed him all the way, ready to help if any danger should threaten him, so our Father in Heaven watches us wherever we go, and whatever we do, and although we cannot see him, we may be sure that he will never let any real harm come to us.