His hair, which he had clipped, had grown long, and his golden curls were the pride of his mother. But when it seemed best that they should be cut off, he was so changed that she exclaimed, "I have lost my boy!"

"Don't, mamma," throwing his arms around her neck. "It makes me feel bad to have you say, 'I have lost my boy!"

In a thunder storm he was told that lightning-rods carried the lightning down into the earth. "I wish I could touch one. Would it carry me down into the earth?"

One day at table his father said, “Margaret, I thank you for some rice." With imperturbable gravity, the little fellow passed his plate: "Margaret, I thank you for some rice."

His sympathies were very quick. He came home, at one time, in great trouble about "Silly Billy," telling a pathetic story of his trying to hurt a man. "I almost cried in the street." Everything that interested him he brought into his prayers. "O Lord, bless them two ladies that sing at the panoramas."

One morning, after telling one of his dreams about his sister Carrie, he added: "I wish Joseph was here to tell the interpretation." He talked much about death. Hearing of a little cousin's sweet face in the casket: "I wonder how I shall look when I am dead? But I sha'n't see myself, I suppose, shall I?" Adding presently: "I wish we could all die together, but then, there could be nobody to fix us with flowers. I shouldn't think they would like to put them in the ground and have the dirt get on the coffins. I should be afraid it would get in." After a little reflection, he added, "I should like to have them put me just where they wanted to."

When his sister was weeping bitterly because her Sunday School teacher was going away as a missionary, her mother appealed to her benevolence, telling her of the children who worshipped images because they had no one to

teach them better. At this point, Eddie quietly remarked, "If we send away all our teachers, we shall worship images."

Rev. Henry Fairbanks of St. Johnsbury, Vermont, on a little visit at Marblehead, had won Eddie's heart by his mechanical skill, kindly exercised for his benefit. Not long after, on April 11th, 1853, Eddie, then about six years old, dictated to him the following letter:

I send my love to you. And I would like to know in how many weeks you will come and see me. And when you come, I would like to have you sharpen my knife. I hope I shall have a nice time in St. Johnsbury, when I go there in the summer. I want to make one cart and a sled and a wheelbarrow and a table and chairs and all sorts of things. I love you more than tongue can tell. Your affectionate little friend, Eddie Lawrence.

About forty years later, March 30th, 1894, Mr. Fairbanks writes:

I remember well the visit that followed this letter, when I met "Eddie," the bright, eager boy, enthusiastic on every subject, because his view was broadening so rapidly, whichever way he looked, or whatever he studied. He was then greatly interested in all mechanical matters, and it was very easy to keep his interest as to how things were made, or why any machine would work as it did. The reason of things in the natural world held his attention. The philosophic bent of his mind made him first a natural philosopher. His life, that seems so unfinished, was very productive, and later, you will see that it had a certain completeness, though the end came so abruptly.

After reading to Eddie a story about a little girl giving her heart to God, "Mamma," said he, while the color deepened on his cheek, "I don't know how to give my heart to God"-hesitating-"unless it is to be good." His prayers showed him to be in earnest. "O Lord, make me a Christian! O Lord, govern my temper! May I lead my sister into good examples." A quick temper was a fault that he frankly confessed and early battled against. trol which in time he obtained was a wonder to those who had known him as a boy, a flush on his face, which soon passed away, being all the token of disturbance.

The self-con

His seventh birthday, Jan. 16th, 1854, was approaching, and as it came on Sunday his mother, in anticipation, gave him his presents on Saturday, and among them, "Little Susie's Six Birthdays," which had been sent her by Mrs. Prentiss, but which she had not had time to look into. After he had read it, he ran to her in great excitement: "Oh, mamma, I wish I could have such a present on my birthday as Susie had!"

"What did she have?"

"A little baby."

And when, on Sunday, his birthday sister came to us, he went around in great excitement, exclaiming, "I've got a baby! I've got a baby!" From that time he assumed a sort of guardianship over this sister, considering her a special gift to himself.

Eddie was fond of dictating letters full of improbable stories about gardens and palaces and all sorts of animals, ending with some amusing catechisms. After he had learned to write, he told his own stories, illustrating them by pictures. He was persistent in his attempts to get at the roots of things. When only five he came to his father one day in great perplexity. "Papa, Meta says that Jesus Christ is God."

"Yes."

"And Jesus Christ is God's son?"

"Yes."

"Why! God, and God's son, too!" with a mingled expression of surprise and amusement.

In hearing of the birth of Jesus, and how he was laid in the manger with the cattle around, he asked, "Who took care of him that the cattle shouldn't hurt him?"

"God took care of him."

"But," with a puzzled and impatient air, "how could he take care of himself? Jesus Christ is God;-how could he?"