ase of the class is
sufficient to throw open before you the whole theatre of possibilities in
that direction. I never heard that the woman, accused of this cruelty,
took it at all to heart, even after the event, which so immediately
succeeded, had reflected upon it a more painful emphasis. On the other
hand, I knew of a case, and will pause to mention it, where a mere
semblance and shadow of such cruelty, under similar circumstances,
inflicted the grief of self-reproach through the remainder of life. A boy,
interesting in his appearance, as also from his remarkable docility, was
attacked, on a cold day of spring, by a complaint of the trachea--not
precisely croup, but like it. He was three years old, and had been ill
perhaps for four days; but at intervals had been in high spirits, and
capable of playing. This sunshine, gleaming through dark clouds, had
continued even on the fourth day; and from nine to eleven o'clock at
night, he had showed more animated pleasure than ever. An old servant,
hearing of his illness, had called to see him; and her mode of talking
with him had excited all the joyousness of his nature. About midnight his
mother, fancying that his feet felt cold, was muffling them up in
flannels; and, as he seemed to resist her a little, she struck lightly on
the sole of one foot as a mode of admonishing him to be quiet. He did not
repeat his motion; and in less than a minute his mother had him in her
arms with his face looking upwards. "What is the meaning," she exclaimed,
in sudden affright, "of this strange repose settling upon his features?"
She called loudly to a servant in another room; but before the servant
could reach her, the child had drawn two inspirations--deep, yet
gentle--and had died in his mother's arms. Upon this the poor afflicted
lady made the discovery that those struggles, which she had supposed to be
expressions of resistance to herself, were the struggles of departing
life. It followed, or seemed to follow, that with these final struggles
had blended an expression, on _her_ part, of displeasure. Doubtless the
child had not distinctly perceived it; but the mother could never look
back to the incident without self-reproach. And seven years after, when
her own death happened, no progress had been made in reconciling her
thoughts to that which only the depth of love could have viewed as any
offence.

So passed away from earth one out of those sisters that made up my nursery
playmates; and