"It may be," said the grandmother; "and how vividly we should remember it, if it should be."

Even so--that was the last note of praise that fell from those infant lips upon earth. But often does it start upon memory's ear, during the silence of the midnight hour, and seem like gentle whisperings from the spirit land, and bring back recollections at once painful and pleasant to the soul.

She slept till the twilight hour, when she wished her mother to carry her to the window. Oh, happily were those hours usually spent, when the duties of the day had all been performed, and the quiet shades of evening gathered round their dwelling. Often was their talk of heaven. O, they were happy hours! but they flew by upon golden wings, leaving their deep impress on that fond mother's heart.

As she sat with her that evening, looking upon the varied prospect that was spread out before them, no word passed her lips. Her mother pointed to the green grass, the trees covered with clustering blossoms, the river, hurrying on to join old Ocean, reflecting the mild radiance of the setting sun on its placid surface; and to the busy hum of life, as people hurried to and fro in the village that lay distinctly spread out before them; but nothing could elicit a word from her, till turning her head wearily, and closing her eyes for the last time upon the beautiful world, with its deep blue sky, and its rich sunset dyes, she said,

"O, mamma, lay me in my little bed;" and after noticing apparently every object in the room, she closed her eyes and lay in a deep stupor for four successive days and nights. Her face was pale as marble, and incoherent words escaped her lips. Sometimes she would murmur,

"Oh, carry me home--carry me home." When she revived from the stupor, at times it was agonizing to witness her suffering. But no word escaped her lips.

Everything that medical aid could do was done, and every attention was paid to the suffering child by her parents and friends, and every effort used to stay the disease. But "he who seeth not as man seeth," willed it otherwise, and all proved unavailing. On the fifteenth day the rash came on again; the throat swelled badly, and the sufferings of the dear little one were extreme. Even then, it was evident she knew her friends, and many were the tokens of affection bestowed upon them as they watched beside her couch, and ministered to her necessities.

Often would she reach up her little emaciated hands, and placing them upon her mother's cheeks, 

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