of heaven, and after listening to her childish prayer, laid her in her little crib with a sweet good night murmured in her ear. Returning to her sitting room, long and sadly she reflected upon the words of her darling child, and tried to fathom their import, and earnestly did she pray that night, "Our Father, prepare me for whatsoever thou art preparing for me, and enable me ever to say, 'thy will be done;'" and she retired to rest with a subdued spirit, feeling an indefinable presentiment of coming sorrow.

The glad light of morning in a measure dissipated the shadows of the previous evening, and the mother and daughter met with a pleasant greeting,--the little girl busied about her play, while her mother attended to her domestic duties. They frequently interchanged cheerful words. Emma would sometimes personate a house-maid, and assist her mother in dusting and arranging the furniture. But suddenly dropping all, she stood by her side, and looking earnestly up into her face, said,

"O mamma, you may have all my clothes next summer."

"Why, Emma," replied her mother, "you will want them yourself."

"O no, mamma, I shall not want them; you may have my little brella, and all."

The mother's cheek blanched, and a fearful pang again shot through her heart.

"O Emma, don't talk so, you will wear them all yourself."

"O no, mamma, you may have them;" and seating herself in her little chair, she sat long, looking thoughtful and serious.

It was morning, bright beautiful morning. The swelling buds had burst their confines, and the apple, pear, peach, cherry, and plum trees that surrounded the house, were thickly covered with sweet scented, many colored blossoms, that gave promise of a rich harvest of delicious fruit. The birds warbled their matin songs in sweet melody; the honey bees with drowsy hum, were sipping sweets to horde their winter's store; and every thing seemed rejoicing in the light of that glad morning. Even Crib, the great house dog, lay sunning himself on the door step with a satisfied look, snapping at the flies that buzzed around him.

But Emma could not arise to look out upon the joyful face of nature. She lay pale and languid upon the bed, telling her mother she was too sick to get up, that she could stay alone while she ironed her clothes which she had starched the night before: but wished her to shut the door to keep out the light and noise.

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