wake."

Soon a cry from the nursery was heard; she sprang up the steps in
nervous haste, while I quite chided her anxiety. I followed her into
the room, and was surprised and shocked to find the dear boy in a
high fever; his little arms tossing restlessly, and his lips dry and
parched. Mr. B. sent immediately for the physician; we waited
anxiously his arrival, hoping secretly that we were unnecessarily
alarmed; but his coming did not reassure us; he saw dangerous
symptoms; but still, he said, he hoped for the best. I went home, as
Mr. and Mrs. B. both declined my services for the night, saying they
would rather attend him alone. The next day I was pained to hear
that his symptoms were more unfavourable; that the medicine had had
no effect, and the physician was becoming discouraged. I flew over
to the "parsonage;" the wildly anxious look of the mother distressed
me. I begged her to lie down a little while, and allow me to take
her place by the baby.

"Oh, no," she said, "I cannot leave him; who but his mother should
be by his side?"

It seemed to me that I had never seen greater distress on any
countenance. Mr. B. endeavoured to soothe her, though his anguish
was apparently as keen as her own.

"If our Saviour would remove this little flower to his own garden,
shall we refuse to give it up? Shall we not rather bless and thank
him for allowing us to keep it so long?"

"Oh, yes!" she said, "He doeth all things well; I know that he does
not willingly afflict nor grieve the children of men. I know that
whom He loveth he chasteneth, and I can say, 'Thy will be done.'
Nature is powerful, but my Saviour feels for me, and will forgive
the inward struggle."

All that night they watched his little life fast ebbing away.
Towards morning his sufferings seemed to cease; he smiled upon his
parents. Hope for a moment revived in their hearts, but soon to be
displaced by bitter anguish. Daylight showed the marked change in
his features and complexion that told too plainly the messenger was
very near.

"Speak to me, Willie," she exclaimed, bending over him in an agony
of grief.

"Mamma," he said, and, with the effort, his little spirit took its
flight.

Much has been said and written upon the death of infants, but when
we see so much of wickedness in the world, so much of sin to blight,
so much sorrow to fade, can we wonder that the Lord of Paradise
loves to transplant to a fairer clime these frail buds of earth,
there to