I should like to reproduce, exactly as they are said, some of the sweet truths voiced by my little daughter who is only five years old; but in writing them, it seems to me they lose somewhat of their charm.
One night after she had retired, she called me to the side of her cot, and, putting her little arms about my neck, whispered: "Mamma, I love you better than all people, but God best of all" —adding, after a thoughtful pause,—"for God made everything ."
She asked her governess one day: "Do people sleep in heaven Miss B—?" Although the latter knew something of Science, she did not know how to reply to this query, so said simply: "I guess so, my child." Eleanor was quite thoughtful for a moment; then a bright look came into her eyes as though the problem had been solved for her, and, shaking her little head wisely, she said: "Oh, no, Miss B—! God is Light, so we never have any night in heaven."
