have a beautiful and unfading development!

We saw no more of our precious friends till the day of the funeral.
This was their first affliction, and none liked to intrude on the
sanctity of their grief, though many tears were shed, and hearts
went out to them; but we felt that they knew whom they had trusted,
and that under the shadow of His wings they could rest securely till
the storm was past.

A neighbouring clergyman was to perform the last sad office for the
dead. Most lovely did little Willie look in his coffin. The
child-like, beautiful expression still lingered. Rare flowers, the
smallest and whitest, had been placed in the tiny hand, and shed
their fragrance throughout the room.

Oh! how sad and sick appeared the mother, as she bent to take the
last look at the little form she had loved and cherished so
tenderly! Her nights of anxiety and watching had left their traces
upon her face; her usually light and elastic step was feeble and
slow, and she rested heavily upon the arm of her husband. His form
also was bowed, and his countenance bore traces of the deepest
grief.

One of those sudden changes which we so often experience in this our
most changeful climate, took place that day. At noon it was very
warm and bright, but before we returned from the funeral it was
cloudy and cold.

The next day Mrs. B. was quite sick with severe cold, and the
effects of the past excitement and grief. We flattered ourselves
that rest and quiet, with good nursing, would soon restore her; and
you may judge of our dismay upon learning, the day after, that she
was dangerously ill.

"Oh no," we thought and said a hundred times, "it cannot be so; she
will surely be better to-morrow."

We could not have it otherwise. We could not for an instant admit
the idea that she would not recover. The bare supposition was agony.
Oh! how harrowing to me is the remembrance of those long summer
days, and those wakeful moonlight nights, in which, prostrated by
disease, lay that young and lovely being so idolized by us all, but
whom, indeed, we were destined to see no more on earth.

The Divine fiat had gone forth, and hearts were agonized, and looks
grew sadder and sadder, as day after day sounded like a knell in our
ears the fearful words, "Not materially better." But we could not
give her up; hope would linger. No one was permitted to see her but
the family and nurses, for the doctor said all excitement must be
carefully avoided. We said