was full; the waves of bitterness rolled over me; I was ready
to curse God who had dealt so severely with me; and no words can
describe the darkness, like the shadow of death, that settled over my
soul. I neither wept nor prayed. I thought of God only as an enemy
whose hand was relentlessly against me, and every power of my body and
mind seemed locked up by a stony despair. I followed my baby to the
grave, but it was as one who neither saw nor heard. I went back to my
lonely home and brooded silently over my hard fate.

[Illustration: He Is Not Here; He Is Risen]

"The autumn days hung their beauty all around me, but I had no eye to
see, no ear to catch the joyfulness floating around me. Christmas
came, a bright, beautiful winter morning, and I stood by the window
watching passers-by. There were no friends, no Christmas cheer for me.
Why was my fate so pitiless? As I stood by the window, my heart making
bitter responses to every peal of the bell, our clergyman passed, a
kind, benevolent-hearted man; he bowed kindly, and then entered.

"'Are you not going out this morning, Mrs. Levick?'

"'No sir. I have nothing to rejoice over, unless it be that every drop
in my cup has turned to bitterness.'

"He did not answer me at once, but taking both my hands, and looking
earnestly into my face said, 'Almost every house was smitten; we lost
two of our darlings.'

"He passed on to the church, and presently I heard the swelling notes
of the organ, and the voice of the people. Every note came directly to
my ear, for the door was being opened and closed continually.

"'Ah!' thought I, 'they can sing, they can observe Christmas; they
have lost only children, I have lost all.'

"When the service was over I watched to see the people go back to
their homes. My heart smote me not a little as I saw that not less
than one-half the congregation wore the badge of bereavement. There
was a widow with her fatherless children; feeble age tottered on
missing the strong arm of manhood on which it had been accustomed to
lean; little children, motherless, walked with demure steps by their
father's side; and there a lonely couple thinking of the little ones
that used to follow them with dancing steps.

"'What a wretched, suffering world it is!' and I bowed my head upon my
hands and wept, the first tears I had shed since they took my baby
from my arms. Just then baby's old nurse came in--the dear old
motherly heart--the sight of my grief touch