for the grave. In a few moments he awoke, and as he
missed the little faces that had been around him, a sad look rested
for a moment upon his face--but in an instant, as his eye rested on
his young sister, he smiled feebly, and exclaimed--"_They_ are all
gone--yet my sweet Lillias is with me still."

That night the angels kept vigil around his couch, and ere morn arose
upon the earth the unsullied spirit was wafted to its native Heaven.
Never--never can _that_ night of Death be effaced from the tablets of
memory--marked as it was by such holy, heavenly heroism on the part
of that fond and devoted mother. Burning tears were on the father's
cheek, and the young Lillias had sobbed herself into a feverish
slumber, but until life was over _the mother_ sat by the side of her
child, breathing sweet, low whispers of the Better Land, so soon to be
his home. She faltered not, and although her heart seemed consuming
itself, she would still trace, with an eye of faith, new rays of
comfort for the dying one. She could not bear to think that his
childish heart should shrink from the grave--nor think of it--invested
as it is so often--with dread and gloom. Thus she sustained him to the
very portals of Heaven, until he needed earthly consolation no more,
until the sheltering arms of Him received him, who hath said--"Suffer
little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is
the kingdom of Heaven." As peacefully as a child sinks to rest on a
mother's bosom, sunk he into Death's embrace.

The agony of the hour, when it is said of a beloved one, "he is dead,"
has never--nor can it be justly portrayed. Then it is that Hope plumes
her wing and soars afar--then it is the even, the clear eye of Faith
seems dimmed. When the truth burst upon the mother's heart that her
child was no more--when she felt that her grief had now no power to
afflict the childish heart that had idolized her--then did the pent up
torrents of agony rush forth, crushing every barrier, and threatening
to overwhelm her soul in their mighty depth. Yet was she
comforted--the glorious imaginings that she had so faithfully and
forcibly portrayed to the dying one had fastened upon her soul--and
when the first wild burst of grief was over, she turned from the
coffined face to the upper world, as though she would say, "not
here--but there."

* * * * *

Once more a childish group gathered around Willie M----. His eye
smiled no welcome, his han