w into a sitting posture, and speaking with
great earnestness. "The doctor said yesterday that I might survive for
six or seven weeks longer,--'perhaps,' he added, 'until the latter end
of Autumn.' During that time, could I not teach you to read?"

"At fifty years of age, Charlotte?" and the poor widow smiled at the
enthusiasm of her child.

"And why not, mother?" said Charlotte, calmly. "It would be a great
comfort to you, during the long, lonely hours you pass in bed; the thing
may appear difficult, but I assure you that it is not impossible."

"And then your weak state; think how it would fatigue you, my dear
child?"

"So far from that, mother, it would afford me the greatest delight," and
the sick girl clasped her thin, wasted hands together, and looked upward
with an expression of gratitude and love beaming on her pale, placid
face.

"Well, I will try to please you, my dear Charlotte," said Dorothy,
whose breast was thrilled to its inmost core by the affectionate
solicitude which that glance of angelic benevolence conveyed to her
heart; "but you will find me so stupid that you will soon give it up as
a bad job."

"With God all things are possible," said Charlotte, reverentially. "With
His blessing, mother, we will begin to-morrow."

It was a strange but beautiful sight[B] to see that dying girl lying in
the same bed instructing her helpless mother,--a sight which drew tears
from sterner eyes than mine. And virtue triumphed over obstacles which
at first appeared insurmountable. Before death summoned the good
daughter to a better world, she had the inexpressible joy of hearing her
mother read distinctly to her Christ's Sermon on the Mount. As the old
woman concluded her delightful task, the grateful Charlotte exclaimed
gently, in a sort of ecstasy--"Now, Lord, let thy servant depart in
peace." Her prayer was granted; and a few minutes after this good and
faithful disciple entered into the joy of her Lord.

[B] This touching scene was witnessed by the Author.

This event, though long expected by Dorothy Grimshawe, was felt with
keen anguish. The tuneful voice was silent, that day and night for many
weeks had spoken peace to her soul. The warm young heart was still, that
had so ardently hoped and prayed for her salvation, that had solved her
doubts and strengthened her wavering faith, and to whom now could she
turn for comfort and consolation? To Mary, whispered the voice in her
soul; but Mary was absent dur