Some children were playing "hide the handkerchief." We sat and watched them a long while, and heard no unkind word, and saw scarcely a rough movement. After a while little Jack, whose turn it was to hide the handkerchief, went to the opposite end of the room, and tried to hide it under a cushion of a big chair. Freddie immediately walked over to him, and said in a low, gentle voice, "Please, Jack, don't hide the handkerchief there; that is father's kneeling-place." "Father's kneeling-place!" It seemed like sacred ground to me as it did to little Freddie; and by-and-by, when the years roll on, and this place shall see the dear father no more forever, will not the memory of this hallowed spot leave an impression upon these young hearts, that time and change can never efface, and remain as one of the most precious memories of the dear old home?—Selected.