of May was rising about us; violet angle was alive with
its blossoms, and the birds sang sweetly as if there were no sorrowing
hearts in the land.

Clara had failed of late, and the evening of the fifteenth we were
gathered together at her request in her sitting-room.

"Do not feel troubled," she said, "for when I am out of sight, you will
sorrow if you feel I have not told it all. Come, baby Emily, sweet bird
sit close to mam Cla, while she tells the story."

Louis and I sat on either side, Aunt Hildy with mother and father very
near, so that we formed a semi-circle.

"I am losing my strength, as you all know," said Clara "and the day is
very near when I shall reach for the hand that will lead me to the
hills. Now, Louis, my dear boy, here is the paper I have written,
wherein I give to you all the things I believe you will prize. I believe
I have remembered all who have been so kind and so dear to me, and I
know you will comply with every wish, and I desire no form of the law to
cover my words." Louis took the papers with a trembling hand, and she
continued: "It is wise and right for me to tell you about the laying
away of this frame of mine, for I know if I do not tell you about it
many questions will arise, and we will have them all settled now before
I go beyond your hearing. I shall hear you and see you all the time.

"First, buy for me a cedar coffin, since it will please you to remember
that this wood lasts longer in the ground than any other. Do not have
any unnecessary trimmings for it, and I would like to wear in this last
resting-place the blue dress I prize the most. You will find in my large
trunk the little pillow I have made for my head; just let me lie there a
little on one side, and put a few of Emily's sweet violets in my hand
that I may be pleasant to look upon. Leave no rings upon my fingers;
these I wear, my Louis Robert gave me, and you must keep them for his
grandchild," and as she said this, she unfastened the shining chain that
she had worn hidden so many years, and putting it around our little
Emily's neck, said: "Let her always wear the chain and the locket," and
while the baby's eyes reflected the gleam of the gold that dazzled them,
we were all weeping. "Do not feel so," said Clara; "it is beautiful to
go; let me tell you the rest. All these people whom I have known will
desire to look at my face, and for their sakes let me be carried into
the old church which has become to me so dear.