“GRANDMOTHER, see my beautiful new dress!" exclaimed a gay little girl, skipping into her grandmother's bed room; "see how it sets, and how becoming it is!"

She walked to and fro before her grandmother, and turned around this side and that side.

"Very pretty," said her grandmother, faintly smiling, "but it is not what I should choose for you."

"Oh! Father says pink is so becoming to me!

What color should you choose, grandmother?" and Kate fingered the trimmings on her pink dress as if no other was quite so good as hers.

"I should choose white, pure, shining white," said her grandmother.

"I know of such a dress, which I should be very glad to have you wear."

"Mother says I tear white dresses, so, I do not deserve to have one," answered the child.

"That which I speak of will never tear."

"O grandmother, think how awfully I look in my out-grown white dress!" and Kate shrank from the thought of another white dress.

"You could never outgrow this."


"Always fit me! Why, grandmother, you don't mean so!"

"Yes, my child, it will always fit you."

"Now, you are making fun; "yet as the little girl glanced at her grandmother's face, she saw that it looked as mild and serious as it ever did.

"Could I burn it?" asked Kate; for she remembered on a cold winter's day what a hole the hot stove made in her new plaid dress.

"No fire can burn it," answered the grandmother.

"Nor sun fade it?"

"No; neither can the rain wet it."

"Oh! I know now, it's made of asbestos—you mean an asbestos dress," and she leaned upon her grandmother's knee, looking into her face.

Perhaps all children know that asbestos is a mineral that can be made into threads, and woven into garments which heat cannot consume. The grandmother shook her head.

"If it's such a beautiful white, I shall soil it very easily I suppose."

"Yes, you could easily soil it; even a thought, a wrong thought, would sully its delicacy."

"Oh!" cried Kate, looking very doubtingly upward, "how funny! I should be afraid to wear it."

"But it will shield you from harm."

"I should like that; is it so very strong, then?"

"So strong my little girl would never wear it out; and then it becomes more beautiful the longer you keep it, if you keep it carefully," said the good lady.

"'Well, will it be becoming? Shall I look pretty in it?" eagerly asked Kate.

"You could wear nothing so beautiful.

It has some precious ornaments, a great deal handsomer and more costly than your gold chain or your coral necklace."

The eyes of the child danced with delight.

"Are they always worn with it?"

"Yes, always.

You should never lay them aside for fear of losing them."

Why, I never saw such a dress," said Kate thoughtfully.

"Where can I buy one?"

"There is one already bought for you, my


"Oh, I am so glad!  Who did buy it for me?"

"Your best Friend."

"You, grandmother, did you buy it?

How very, very good of you."

"No, it was not I—a better friend than I," said grandmother solemnly.

"Oh, you mean something, grandmother," cried the child.

"Please tell me what you do mean. What is this dress, so wonderful? I am sure I want one."

"This dress, so wonderful, is the garment of salvation.

It was bought by Jesus Christ at a great price, even his life; its ornaments are a meek and quiet spirit.

Will my dear little girl wear this beautiful garment?" earnestly asked her grandmother.

"I wish I could," breathed the little one, her head bowed low.   

"Then you would have a wardrobe for eternity, Kate, fitting you for the company of the heavenly hosts of the world to come, where the redeemed shall sing their songs of praise;" and the grandmother pressed the child to her bosom, and breathed over her the prayer of love.

Who will not wear this beautiful garment? Who will get ready his wardrobe for eternity!