d; and
though no feature of his grave countenance changed, the rough hand,
smoothing the lock of hair upon the pillow, the bowed attitude of the
grey head, were more pathetic than the loudest lamentations. The son
died; and the father took home the pale relic of the life he gave,
offering a little money to the nurse, as the only visible return it was
in his power to make her; for though very grateful, he was poor. Of
course, she did not take it, but found a richer compensation in the old
man's earnest declaration:

"My boy couldn't have been better cared for if he'd been at home; and
God will reward you for it, though I can't."

My own experiences of this sort began when my first man died. He had
scarcely been removed, when his wife came in. Her eye went straight to
the well-known bed; it was empty; and feeling, yet not believing the
hard truth, she cried out, with a look I never shall forget:

"Why, where's Emanuel?"

I had never seen her before, did not know her relationship to the man
whom I had only nursed for a day, and was about to tell her he was
gone, when McGee, the tender-hearted Irishman before mentioned, brushed
by me with a cheerful--"It's shifted to a better bed he is, Mrs.
Connel. Come out, dear, till I show ye;" and, taking her gently by the
arm, he led her to the matron, who broke the heavy tidings to the wife,
and comforted the widow.

Another day, running up to my room for a breath of fresh air and a five
minutes rest after a disagreeable task, I found a stout young woman
sitting on my bed, wearing the miserable look which I had learned to
know by that time. Seeing her, reminded me that I had heard of some
one's dying in the night, and his sister's arriving in the morning.
This must be she, I thought. I pitied her with all my heart. What could
I say or do? Words always seem impertinent at such times; I did not
know the man; the woman was neither interesting in herself nor graceful
in her grief; yet, having known a sister's sorrow myself, I could have
not leave her alone with her trouble in that strange place, without a
word. So, feeling heart-sick, home-sick, and not knowing what else to
do, I just put my arms about her, and began to cry in a very helpless
but hearty way; for, as I seldom indulge in this moist luxury, I like
to enjoy it with all my might, when I do.

It so happened I could not have done a better thing; for, though not a
word was spoken, each felt the other's sympathy; and, in t