pious words of sympathy and
comfort.

The sick man had given his parting embrace to the beloved objects of his
affection, and had assured them of his perfect confidence in a rest and
peace beyond the grave, but now his mind seemed wandering to other
scenes.

"Down by the willows, dear Mary," said he, "I wish to cross the river
once more; it is chilly here, but do you see how warmly the sun is
shining upon the green banks opposite! There are bright flowers there,
too, such as we have often gathered, and the birds sing so sweetly! Oh!
let us cross the river, once more, dear Mary!" His words grew fainter
and fainter, and they heard them no more, for he had crossed the river,
and was wandering where the sun shines more resplendently than earthly
sun can shine, and where brighter flowers, and sweeter birds than mortal
ever saw or heard, forever bloom and sing; but his Mary still lingered
on the other shore, detained by an invisible Power, who calleth home
whom he will, and when he will. But two short months she lingered, and
then the husband and wife were roaming together beside the pure river of
life, that floweth out from the Throne of God and of the Lamb, and the
child was left, but not alone.

CHAPTER VI.

The month of June saw Mrs. Dunmore settled in her country-house for the
summer. It was a pretty, unobtrusive cottage, standing upon a sloping
lawn, and facing the east. In the distance lay a sylvan lake, beyond
which, through the trees, gleamed the white spires of an adjoining
village. All around were lofty mountains covered with verdure and glory.
On the north of the house was a dense grove of chestnut, and walnut, and
maple, and pine, where multitudes of squirrels had their hiding-places,
and the birds sang unmolested.

There little Bella used to love to play, while nurse Nannie gathered
flowers to deck the neck of her pet lamb, or, when the nuts began to
fall, helped her to fill her tiny basket; and there her mother had her
laid, when she could no longer play, with her folded hands clasping some
forest-buds, and a wreath of wild-flowers around her brow. There was a
pure white monument at the head of her grave, in the sunniest and
happiest spot in the whole grove, with a rose carved upon it, and a
beauteous bud broken from the parent stem; and there Jennie stood with
old Nannie, a few days after their arrival, wondering that the bud on
the tombstone should be broken, and listening to Nannie as she talk