arge of him.

"Weakness, I grant, would make him less impetuous and violent," answered
his wife, "but would it make him patient, and docile, and considerate,
if there were not some radical change in his feelings and temper?"

During the last few days of his life, and when the flickering flame was
hourly expected to die out, his uncle saw more of him, and he, too,
became convinced of the change in Lewie, and was certain that for him
to die would be gam. And at last, with words of prayer upon his lips and
a whisper of his sister's name, he sank away as gently as an infant
drops asleep.

"How like he looks," said old Mammy, with the tears streaming down her
withered cheeks, "how like he looks, with the bonny curls lying round
his forehead, to what he did the day he lay like death at the Hemlock's,
when he was only two years old."

Mrs. Wharton's mind immediately reverted to the scene, and to that young
mother's prayer of agony, "Oh, for his life! his life!" and as she
thought over the events of that short life of sin and sorrow, she said
within herself, "Oh! who can tell what to choose for his portion! Thou
Lord, who knowest the end from the beginning, choose Thou our changes
for us, and help us in the darkest hour to say, 'Thy will be done.'"

And in the quiet spot where the willow bends, and the brook murmurs, by
the side of his mother, and near the grave of Rhoda Edwards, rest the
remains of _Lewie_.

It is strange how much a human heart may suffer and yet beat on and
regain tranquillity, and even cheerfulness at last. It is a most
merciful provision of Providence, that our griefs do not always press
upon us as heavily as they do at first, else how could the burden of
this life of change and sorrow be borne. But the loved ones are not
forgotten when the tear is dried and the smile returns to the cheek;
they are remembered, but with less of sadness and gloom in the
remembrance; and at length, if we can think of them as happy, it is only
a pleasure to recall them to mind.

So Agnes found it, as after a few months of rest and quiet in her
uncle's happy home, the gloom of her sorrow began to fade away, the
color returned to her cheek, and she began to be like the Agnes of
former times. And now that health and energy had returned, she began to
long for employment again, and though she knew it would cost a great
struggle to leave her dear friends at Brook Farm, she began to urge them
all to be on the watch for a situa