A brother had been summoned from a distant village to attend her funeral.  He had travelled, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, and when the shades of twilight fell over the earth, he stood by that dearly loved form.  Memory brought back the past.  That cold, pulseless one was a child again, sporting by his side, prattling upon his knee, and winning attention by the ten thousand witcheries of childhood.

Then, with the rapidity of thought, blooming youth succeeded this age, and she stood, blushing in maiden modesty, the gay young sister of other days; and his heart was filled with sadness as he gazed upon her stiff in the icy arms of death, and felt that she could no more return his affection.  He was an aged man, and knew much of the sorrow and the trials of life; he turned, with a tear in his eye, from his loved sister and passed into the street.

The storm was increasing, but he heeded not the peltings of the wintry wind, or the wild music that mingled with its mournful wail, as he passed the luxurious hall, where

  “Fashion’s gay tapers were lighted.”

Other thoughts occupied his mind.

He soon stood by the bedside of a dear daughter, who was passing away from earth, while yet in the bloom and the beauty of youth.  She was a wife, and a mother of two sweet children, whose tender age required a mother’s watchfulness—­a mother’s care.  But with childlike trust, she had given them back to that God, who had given them to her.  Her trust was in him, and now she was ready to follow her dear Saviour into the cold dark grave, with the assurance that she should have a part in the first resurrection.  Melancholy sounded the music from that distant ball room, as it stole upon the wings of the winter wind, into the chamber of the dying one.  Her ear was listening to catch the notes of angel harps before the throne of God, and her passing spirit was attuned to their melodies.  The beauties of the upper world transfixed her rapt vision, and no earthly object stood between her soul and God.  And so she passed away, and left to her earthly friends but the frail casket, while the priceless jewel had soared to brighter regions, to glitter in a Saviour’s crown.

The father had come just in time to take the last look of his living child, to hear her last words, to witness her last struggle, as the pure spirit departed from earth, to join her sainted mother in the spirit land.  He was taking another portion from the cup of affliction, which however bitter to the taste, often sweetens the journey of human life, preparing the recipient better to perform its duties, and bear its trials.

As the stricken father retired to bed, the sound of revelry fell heavily upon an almost bursting heart.