She was arrayed in a simple white robe, and laid into her cradle, while a sorrowing angel hovered over the household.  An absent son returned who had been teaching several miles distant, and among other gifts were some for the little one, but those little eyes were closed, and those little hands that used to be raised with so much fondness, were now stiff and cold in death; but how lovely!  Her grave was made in the headland of the garden; a tall lilac stood upon one side of it, and a fragrant rose bush stood upon the other No stone marked the spot, but will she be forgotten on the morning of the resurrection?

Years passed on, many silent years, for we heard no sounds to tell us that time was threading the mazy thoroughfares of human life, stealing noiselessly through our dwellings, and pressing his way with us to the ocean of eternity, hastening on to the period when he shall come to an end, and the great angel shall swear there shall be time no longer.  But so it was; years had been borne away by his rapid flight, and laid side by side with those that passed before the flood, and change had come.

Many voices that lisped their matin and their vesper hymns by one hearth stone, were now scattered far and wide, and other homes had sprung up, and the children had become parents, and new duties devolved upon them.  Some had passed the meridian of life, the sun of some had reached their noon, while others were climbing up the eastern summit.  But as yet death had spared that numerous, household; but now he was watching for his prey.  A son who had reached the meridian of life, with fair prospects and an unblemished reputation, was selected.

He had consecrated himself to God, had put on Christ by baptism, and well did he adorn his profession, living a consistent Christian life.  But death marked him for his victim.

It were needless now to tell of all the secret underminings of life’s hidden springs.  He was cheerfully, hopefully looking forward to a long life of usefulness, and striving to attain to greater proficiency in his profession, for he was a physician.  But the strength of manhood, integrity of principle, nor Christian virtue could shield him from the stealthy foe that was infusing its poison through the secret avenues of life.

Strength declined, the cough increased, night sweats came on, and one occupation after another had to be relinquished, till he was a confirmed invalid, and when he became next convinced that he must die, the business of his remaining time upon earth was to make preparation for that event.

His countenance ever wore a smile, and he conversed cheerfully with his friends.

He sold his place, which was one he had desired for many years, and which he had recently purchased, anticipating a long life of usefulness in the bosom of his family, which consisted of his wife and one son.  But he cheerfully resigned it, and settled all his business as far as was in his power, made the best possible provision for his wife and son, and retired with them to her paternal home to prepare the inner man for the great change that was before him.