l his little pains and agonies were over forever.

"His sufferings are past," she exclaimed, "James, your sufferings are
over!" As she uttered the words, the curate was astonished by hearing
her burst out into one or two wild hysteric laughs, which happily ended
in tears.

"No more," she continued, "you'll feel no more pain now, my precious
boy; your voice will never sound in my ears again; you'll never call
on me to say 'mother, take away my pain;' the Sunday mornin' will never
come when I will take pride in dressing you. My morning and evening kiss
will never more be given--all my heart was fixed on is gone, and I care
not now what becomes of me."

What could the good curate do? He strove to soothe, sustain, and comfort
her, but in vain; the poor widow heard him not.

"Jenny," said she, at length, turning to, the other sick child, "your
brother is at rest! James is at rest; he will disturb your sleep now no
more--nor will you disturb his."

"Oh! but he couldn't help it, mammy; it was the pain that made him."

As the child uttered these words, the widow put her hand to her heart,
gave two or three rapid sobs--her bosom heaved, and her head fell back
over a chair that was accidentally beside her. Mr. Clement caught her
in time to prevent her from falling; he placed her upright on the chair,
which he carried to, the little dresser, where he found a jug of water,
the only drink she had to give her sick children. With this he bathed
her temples and wet her lips, after which he looked upon the scene of
death and affliction by which he was surrounded.

"Gracious Father," he exclaimed, "let, your mercy reach this most
pitiable family! Look with eyes of pity and compassion upon this
afflicted and bereaved woman! Oh, support her--she is poor and nearly
heart-broken, and the world has abandoned her! Oh, do not abandon her,
Father of all mercy, and God of all consolation!"

As he concluded, the widow recovered, and felt his tears falling upon
her face. On looking she perceived how deeply he was affected. Her lips
opened unconsciously with a blessing on him who shared in, and soothed
her sorrows--her voice was feeble, for she had not yet recovered her
strength; but the low murmur of her prayers and blessings rose like the
sounds of sweet but melancholy music to heaven, and was heard there.

Mr. Clement then went over to the bed, and with his own hands smoothed
it down for the little sick sister of the departed boy, adjust