bestowed upon her that affection could give; but
the disease rapidly increased.

The fire of a terrible fever was raging in her veins, and drying up
the fountain of her young life. In the wildness of delirium she would
start suddenly from the arms of her mother, and pierce her heart by
begging to be carried to her own dear mother.

The fifth day of her disease it assumed a more alarming appearance,
her extremities becoming cold, and a deathlike palor overspreading her
countenance, accompanied by a stupid, dozing state. While laying thus,
she started up, exclaiming,

"Mamma, if I die, shall I go heaven?"

"O, yes, my dear," said her mother.

"Papa said. I should."

Then falling into a deep stupor, she noticed nothing for about two
hours, when looking up bright and wishfully, turning her body towards
her mother, she said, earnestly,

"Pray."

Her mother commenced the sweet prayer, so familiar to her,

"Now, I lay me."

She joined her trembling voice with hers, and lisped again the words
she had loved so well. She appeared exhausted with the effort,
and turning away her little head, and closing her weary eyes, lay
apparently asleep about five minutes, when arousing herself, with a
sweet expression of countenance, she gently murmured,

"Amen."

"O," said the mother, "perhaps that is Emma's last prayer."

"It may be," said the grandmother; "and how vividly we should remember
it, if it should be."

Even so--that was the last note of praise that fell from those infant
lips upon earth. But often does it start upon memory's ear, during the
silence of the midnight hour, and seem like gentle whisperings from
the spirit land, and bring back recollections at once painful and
pleasant to the soul.

She slept till the twilight hour, when she wished her mother to carry
her to the window. Oh, happily were those hours usually spent, when
the duties of the day had all been performed, and the quiet shades of
evening gathered round their dwelling. Often was their talk of heaven.
O, they were happy hours! but they flew by upon golden wings, leaving
their deep impress on that fond mother's heart.

As she sat with her that evening, looking upon the varied prospect
that was spread out before them, no word passed her lips. Her mother
pointed to the green grass, the trees covered with clustering
blossoms, the river, hurrying on to join old Ocean, reflecting the
mild radiance of the setting sun on its placid surface; and to