to warm it. "Does Carrie love papa and mama?" She made her usual sign of assent. "And do you love your sister and brother?— and the dear Jesus?" To each separate question, she distinctly replied in the affirmative. "And would you like to live with Jesus in heaven ?" She gave the same sign of assent. "If

new tin cup?".

-as

"Louise," the dear

you should die, my child, would you like to have Louise or Alick have your she called her silver mug. child replied. "And what would you like to give to papa?" "My new box." "And what to mama?" Hesitating a moment, she said, "My box of cups and saucers. "And shall Alick have your new Bible?" She assented. "And to whom do you wish to give these flowers?". pointing to some in a little dear child shook her head.

everything but her flowers.

glass near her. The She could give away

"I am sorry," said Louise, "that I was ever unkind to you: will you forgive me, dear sister?" Carrie bowed her head, and kissed her sister as a pledge of her ready pardon. She then gave us all what we supposed to be her farewell kiss, and also kissed other friends around her. But could

it be that our beautiful bud iay there almost broken? It may be well for poor human hearts, that affliction sometimes stuns us, so that at first we cannot realize the blow..

"Shall your father pray for you, my child, that if you die, God may take you to heaven?" She gladly assented. Feeling almost as if we were entering the dark valley with her, her father breathed forth to our merciful Saviour the language of our souls, and commended our precious lamb, on her lonely journey, to the Good Shepherd's care, entreating strength for our day of need. And surely we then needed the everlasting arms for our support.

Almost every one expected dear Carrie's death that night, every one perhaps but her mother. And while life remained, it was my feeling that she could not die. Once about midnight, we thought her just gone. We stood over her, and called again and again upon her dear name. She spoke not, she stirred not. With an arrow in my soul, I forced apart those sweet lips, while her father poured something into her mouth. For a moment, we thought she had ceased to breathe, but presently she swallowed,

and who could describe our emotions when she called for "water, fresh water." It was like life from the dead. Not only was the load removed from my heart, but I felt as if I had wings, and could fly. How sweet were my hopes, how soul-felt my gratitude! How easily now did "Thy will be done" arise to my lips! How fervent was the response of my heart! Tenderly I kissed her pale forehead, and seating myself by her crib, rocked her gently as an infant. "What shall mama sing to Carrie ?"

Sing Hush, my dear!" With inexpressible emotions, I sang through that sweet cradle-hymn. It was the third night that I had not slept, and now I was too sweetly happy to think of sleeping. The cocks began to crow and to answer one another from a distance. As I listened to the cheerful sound, seeming to call back my child to life, I could not restrain my grateful tears. Oh! how the crowing of the cock now recalls those nights of anxious watchings, and those few hours of almost delirious joy! There I sat till the day dawned gently rocking and singing, while hope was busy in my heart weaving sweet dreams of the future. How could I

hope as I looked on that pale, death-like face? But I not only hoped, I felt certain that she would recover. They had all thought she would die that night, and God had raised her as it were from the dead. Fervently did my heart ascend invoking Heaven's blessings on our spared child. Alas! I knew not that she was spared but to linger with us a few more days of distressing suspense ;-I knew not that we were soon to be called to a second parting, more agonizing from the very reprieve which had been granted,—a reprieve, which, by raising our hopes to an almost certainty of joyful expectation, only prepared us for the more bitter disappointment. And yet, dear angel-child,—

"Amid earth's conflict, woe, and care,
When dark our path appears,

"Tis sweet to know thou canst not share
Our anguish and our tears.
That on thy head no more shall fall

The storms we may not flee.—
Yes, safely sheltered from them all,
We joy that thou art free."

Days of Suspense.

"Now all is done that love and care,

And skilful kindness could suggest, And He who heard our anxious prayer, Will answer as his love thinks best; Oh, that both hopes and fears were still Waiting on his mysterious will!

*

And yet both hopes and fears will crowd

Around that bright and precious child; And both will speak their thoughts aloud, Till this distracted heart is wild; Oh, might they all give place to one Heart-filling prayer,-" God's will be done!"

Come then, my God, and take the place

Of these distracting hopes and fears; 'Stablish this trembling heart with grace,

Dry with thine hand these falling tears; And teach me to confide with thee The treasure thou could'st trust with me.

*