The mother pursued her task with a sad heart, but often would she unclose the door and look in upon the pale child, and show her some article of dress she had been preparing for her. She would look up with a smile and say,

"O good mamma, how nice they look;" then closing her eyes drop into a deep, heavy sleep.

She grew rapidly worse, and the doctor who was called to visit her, pronounced it scarlet fever, that fearful malady among children, but thought her symptoms favorable.

Every attention was bestowed upon her that affection could give; but the disease rapidly increased.

The fire of a terrible fever was raging in her veins, and drying up the fountain of her young life. In the wildness of delirium she would start suddenly from the arms of her mother, and pierce her heart by begging to be carried to her own dear mother.

The fifth day of her disease it assumed a more alarming appearance, her extremities becoming cold, and a deathlike palor overspreading her countenance, accompanied by a stupid, dozing state. While laying thus, she started up, exclaiming,

"Mamma, if I die, shall I go heaven?"

"O, yes, my dear," said her mother.

"Papa said. I should."

Then falling into a deep stupor, she noticed nothing for about two hours, when looking up bright and wishfully, turning her body towards her mother, she said, earnestly,

"Pray."

Her mother commenced the sweet prayer, so familiar to her,

CONTENTS

  "Now, I lay me."

She joined her trembling voice with hers, and lisped again the words she had loved so well. She appeared exhausted with the effort, and turning away her little head, and closing her weary eyes, lay apparently asleep about five minutes, when arousing herself, with a sweet expression of countenance, she gently murmured,

"Amen."

"O," said the mother, "perhaps that is Emma's last prayer."

 Prev. P 62/198 next