truments in God's hands for the purification of her body and the
regeneration of her spirit. Charles," he added, turning to the boy, who
still wept, although as furtively as he could, "bear up, my child: Ned,
you may rest assured, will make as little delay as possible, and I hope
he will bring us relief."

"Mamma," said the invalid, looking up tenderly into her face, "will
you--oh! no, not you, mamma--Emily will--a mouthful of drink, Emily
dear, and let it be pure water, Emily; I think it agrees with me best."

"Alas, my darling!" exclaimed her mother, wiping away a few quiet tears,
"I have nothing else to give you."

"Well, mamma, but you know I like it very much."

"Precious child," replied her mother, again tenderly pressing her to her
bosom; "we all know your goodness, and the reluctance with which you ask
anything that you fear might occasion us trouble. Dearest life, it will
be the memory of these glimpses of angelic goodness that will wring
our hearts when you are----" She paused, for the words had been uttered
unconsciously.

"Yes," said her father, "they will console us, my child, and make your
memory smell sweet, and blossom from the very dust. You have probably
heard of the beautiful sentiment so exquisitely delineated by the great
painter--'I too have been in Arcadia,'--and will it not be something to
us to be able to say,--'We too have an angel in paradise!'"

Her sister brought her a cup of cold water, with which, after thanking
her with a sweet smile, she merely wet her lips. "Alas! I am very
troublesome to you all, but I shall not long--"

"Darling sister," said Emily, tenderly kissing her, "do not speak so;
you are too good, and ever were so. Ah! Maria," she exclaimed, gushing
into tears, "is it come to this at last!"

The sick girl placed her hand affectionately upon her cheek, and
said--"Dear, dear sister, how I love you! Oh! how I love you all! and
papa, my dear papa, how I pity you in your sorrow!"

"Thanks, my darling, I know that your heart is pervaded and sustained by
all tenderness and affection; and indeed it is a consolation that since
calamity has come upon us, it has fallen upon a family of love--of love
to which it only gives greater strength and tenderness. This is a great
blessing, my children, and we ought to feel deeply thankful for it. But,
at the same time, it matters not what we suffer, we must allow nothing
in this world of trial to shake our trust in God. Here, however, is