Little Ellen found its words a mighty refreshment;
and often when reading it she loved to recall what Alice had
said at this and the other place, and John, and Mr. Marshman,
and before them her mother. The passages about heaven, which
she well remembered reading to her one particular morning,
became great favourites; they were joined with her mother in
Ellen's thoughts; and she used to go over and over them till
she nearly knew them by heart.
"What _do_ you keep reading that for, the whole time?" said
Nancy, one day.
"Because I like to," said Ellen.
"Well, if you do, you're the first one ever I saw that did."
"Oh, Nancy!" said Ellen, — "your grandma?"
"Well, she does, I believe," said Nancy; "for she's always at
it; but all the rest of the folks that ever I saw are happy to
get it out of their hands, _I_ know. They think they must read a
little, and so they do, and they are too glad if something
happens to break 'em off. You needn't tell _me_ — I've seen
'em."
"I wish _you_ loved it, Nancy," said Ellen.
"Well, what do you love it for? Come, let's hear; maybe you'll
convert me."
"I love it for a great many reasons," said Ellen, who had some
difficulty in speaking of what she felt Nancy could not
understand.
"Well — I ain't any wiser yet."
"I like to read it because I want to go to heaven, and it
tells me how."
"But what's the use?" said Nancy — "you ain't going to die yet
— you are too young — you've time enough.
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