ed the gas, and drew down the shade, she waited to
put every thing tidy on her writing-table, and then, when she had
finally turned the key in her writing-desk, to read over half a dozen
old letters and bits of essays, and scraps of poetry, ere she reached
down for that little white envelope, with her name traced by the
dear familiar hand that wrote her name no more. At last the seal was
broken, and Sadie read:

"My Darling Sister:

"I am sitting to-day in our little room--yours and mine. I have been
taking in the picture of it; every thing about it is dear to me, from
our father's face smiling down on me from the wall, to the little red
rocker in which he sat and wrote, in which I sit now, and in which you
will doubtless sit, when I have gone to him. I want to speak to you
about that time. When you read this, I shall have been gone a long,
long time, and the bitterness of the parting will all be past; you
will be able to read calmly what I am writing. I will tell you a
little of the struggle. For the first few moments after I knew that
I was soon to die, my brain fairly reeled; It seemed to me that I
_could_ not. I had so much to live for, there was so much that I
wanted to do; and most of all other things, I wanted to see you a
Christian. I wanted to live for that, to work for it, to undo if I
could some of the evil that I knew my miserable life had wrought in
your heart. Then suddenly there came to me the thought that perhaps
what my life could not do, my coffin would accomplish--perhaps that
was to be God's way of calling you to himself perhaps he meant to
answer my pleading in that way, to let my grave speak for me, as my
crooked, marred, sinful living might never be able to do. My darling,
then I was content; it came to me so suddenly as that almost the
certainty that God meant to use me thus, and I love you so, and I long
so to see you come to him, that I am more than willing to give up
all that this life seemed to have for me, and go away, if by that you
would be called to Christ.

"And Sadie, dear, you will know before you read this, how much I had
to give up. You will know very soon all that Dr. Douglass and I looked
forward to being to each other--but I give it up, give him up,
more than willingly--joyfully--glad that my Father will accept the
sacrifice, and make you his child. Oh, my darling, what a life I have
lived before you! I do not wonder that, looking at me, you have grown
into the habit of thinki