afflicts us.

Ellen maintained the same cheerful manner from the time of the burial of
her second babe to the birth of her third child. Her friends hoped many
blessings for Ellen in the life of this child. It was a daughter,
apparently healthy; and as its mother had endured so severe a trial we
hoped the Lord would deal mercifully with her in sparing this one to
her. For one short year we had reason to hope for the life of the child.
But it was too frail a creature for this world, and, like its little
brothers, died in early infancy. And its mother--we found her to be a
practical Christian indeed.

Instead of moaning and violent grief, she held her babe as it breathed
its latest breath, and was first to break the awful silence in the room
that succeeded the final struggle, with these words: "She is with her
little brothers now, and I have reason to bless the Lord." She could say
no more then; and a few large tears fell on the cheek of her babe as it
still lay on her lap. Once only did she freely yield to tears. It was
when her husband first heard of the death of his babe. His anguish
overcame her composure. Soon recovered however, she maintained a truly
Christian deportment. The third little grave was opened in the burial
lot of Mr. Moore, and the body of this babe laid by its little brothers.

A fourth babe was born in the lonely home of Ellen, and fresh hopes
cherished for the long life of her child. The burden of every prayer
offered at that family altar was, "Lord, if it be thy will, suffer us to
rear this tender child!"

"Yet though I pray thus," said Ellen, "my heart is strong to meet its
early death; and if it dies, I shall not mourn as for my first-born. God
has afflicted me, but I am profited thereby."

"Very true, Ellen, but if this fourth dear babe is taken from us, we
shall almost doubt the mercy of God. How can you, in your present
delicate health, endure to lay this last dear babe by the side of the
departed ones, and again find your home desolate and silent?"

"My body is weak, Mary, but my spirit is well instructed in resignation,
and can calmly bear whatever new affliction God pleases to send. You
have called me changed since Alfred died, and sometimes too silent and
sad. I am changed and often silent, but not sad. _My_ treasures are in
heaven, and my communings are more with the spirits of my children in
heaven than with the friends who are with me here. And if this child
dies, Mary,----if he di