joy and future hope, was dead. Two daughters they
had, indeed, older than their boy--the eldest was almost old enough to
be confirmed--amiable, sweet girls they both were; but the lost child
is always the dearest, and he was the youngest, and a son. It was a
heavy trial. The sisters sorrowed as young hearts sorrow, and were
much afflicted by their parents' grief; the father was weighed down by
the affliction; but the mother was quite overwhelmed by the terrible
blow. By night and by day had she devoted herself to her sick child,
watched by him, lifted him, carried him about, done everything for him
herself. She had felt as if he were a part of herself: she could not
bring herself to believe that he was dead--that he should be laid in a
coffin, and concealed in the grave. God would not take that child from
her--O no! And when he was taken, and she could no longer refuse to
believe the truth, she exclaimed in her wild grief,--

"God has not ordained this! He has heartless agents here on earth.
They do what they list--they hearken not to a mother's prayers!"

She dared in her woe to arraign the Most High; and then came dark
thoughts, the thoughts of death--everlasting death--that human beings
returned as earth to earth, and then all was over. Amidst thoughts
morbid and impious as these were there could be nothing to console
her, and she sank into the darkest depth of despair.

In these hours of deepest distress she could not weep. She thought not
of the young daughters who were left to her; her husband's tears fell
on her brow, but she did not look up at him; her thoughts were with
her dead child; her whole heart and soul were wrapped up in recalling
every reminiscence of the lost one--every syllable of his infantine
prattle.

The day of the funeral came. She had not slept the night before, but
towards morning she was overcome by fatigue, and sank for a short time
into repose. During that time the coffin was removed into another
apartment, and the cover was screwed down with as little noise as
possible.

When she awoke she rose, and wished to see her child; then her
husband, with tears in his eyes, told her, "We have closed the
coffin--it had to be done!"

"When the Almighty is so hard on me," she exclaimed, "why should human
beings be kinder?" and she burst into tears.

The coffin was carried to the grave. The inconsolable mother sat with
her young daughters; she looked at them, but she did not see them;
her tho