s all I'll have of you both in the grave
where I'll sleep; and, Margaret, do it now--oh, do it soon."

Margaret, who always carried scissors hanging by her pocket, took them
out, and cutting a long abundant lock of the boy's hair, she tenderly
placed it where he wished, in a little three-cornered bit of black silk
that was suspended from his neck, and lay upon his heart.

"Is it done?" said he.

"It is done," she replied as well as she could!

"This, you know, is to lie on my heart," said he, "when I'm in my grave;
you won't forget that!"

"No--oh, no, no; but, merciful God, support me! for Art, my husband, my
life, I don't know how I'll part with you."

"Well, may God bless you forever, my darlin' wife, and support you and
my orphans! Bring them here."

They were then brought over, and in a very feeble voice he blessed them
also.

"Now, forgive me all," said he, "forgive ME ALL!"

But, indeed, we cannot paint the tenderness and indescribable affliction
of his wife and children while uttering their forgiveness of all his
offences against them, as he himself termed it. In the meantime he kept
his son close by him, nor would he suffer him to go one moment from his
reach.

"Atty," said he, in a low voice, which was rapidly sinking;--"put his
cheek over to mine"--he added to his wife, "then raise my right arm, an'
put it about his neck;--Atty," he proceeded, "won't you give me one last
word before I depart?"

His wife observed that as he spoke a large tear trickled down his cheek.
Now, the boy was never in the habit of speaking when he was spoken to,
or of speaking at all, with the exception of the words we have already
given. On this occasion, however, whether the matter was a coincidence
or not, it is difficult to say, he said in a quiet, low voice, as if
imitating his father's--

"Daddy, won't you come to bed for me, for your own Atty?"

The reply was very low, but still quite audible--

"Yes, darlin', I--I will--I will for you, Atty."

The child said no more, neither did his father, and when the sorrowing
wife, struck by the stillness which for a minute or two succeeded the
words, went to remove the boy, she found that his father's spirit had
gone to that world where, we firmly trust, his errors, and follies, and
sins have been forgiven. While taking the boy away, she looked upon
her husband's face, and there still lay the large tear of love and
repentance--she stooped down--she kissed it--and it was