emory. He went with us to walk in
the city, and the evening star glanced kindly down upon us. 'What are
the people above there doing?' said the teacher. This was a new idea to
us! We were moved with joyful astonishment when he said to us: 'It is
possible, even probable, that God's goodness has assigned other planets
as a dwelling-place for living, thinking, and worshipping creatures.'
Delighted, elevated, and comforted, we turned back. It was the
counterpoise to that sorrow which fell upon me when I heard that there
was no future for animals!

"On Christmas Eve, 1780, our dear sister Jettchen died, in her
fourteenth year; nine days before we were playing merrily, when she was
suddenly seized with a pain in her stomach. The doctor thought lightly
of it, and probably mistook the real cause. After seven days she became
visibly worse, was weak and pale as death; she left her couch for the
last time in order to reach us our writing books. Yet no one seemed to
anticipate her death. Alas! it followed that Christmas Eve, early;
about four o'clock they awoke us to see her once more. Weeping loudly
we rushed up to her. She did not know us. 'Good night! Jettchen!' we
exclaimed, and my father prayed, tearfully. Our teacher stood by the
death-bed and prayed: 'Now take my heart, and take me as I am to thee,
thou dear Jesus!' (From the Kottbus hymn-book.)

"She departed amidst these prayers, and lay there in heavenly serenity.
My little sister Rieckchen, three years and a half old, came up and
said to the sick-nurse: 'When I die, lay me out in just such a white
cloth as my Jettel.' And seventeen years afterwards the same woman did
it!

"Before this, in the evening, we had to give our Christmas greetings.
My brother and Jettchen exchanged greetings--very beautiful--in
writing. 'She who was your chief is absent,' said my father, weeping.
On the third day of the feast she was buried. She lay in a white dress
with pale pink ribbons, a garland on her brown hair, and a small
crucifix in her hand. 'Sleep well!' exclaimed our old nurse, 'till thy
Saviour wakes thee!' We could not speak, we only sobbed. Often did my
dearly beloved Jettchen appear to me in dreams, always lovely, quiet,
and serious. Once she offered me a wreath; this was considered as a
sign that I was to die, as I was soon after seriously ill. But since my
childhood I have not been so fortunate as to dream once of her. She
loved me tenderly! I may say very particularly so!