not wake till the day of resurrection."

Mr Campbell covered his face with his hands, and after a time
exclaimed, "His poor mother!"

After a few minutes, he rose and went into Mrs Campbell's room.

"What of my child,--my dear, dear Percival?" exclaimed Mrs Campbell.

"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away," replied Mr Campbell;
"your child is happy."

Mrs Campbell wept bitterly; and having thus given vent to the feelings
of nature, she became gradually more calm and resigned; her habitually
devout spirit sought and found relief in the God of all comfort.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

PERCIVAL LOST.

Thus in one short day was the family of Mr Campbell changed from a
house of joy to one of mourning. And true was the remark of Malachi,
that misfortunes seldom come single, for now they had another cause of
anxiety. Emma, by her imprudent exposure to the intense chill of the
night air and the wetting of her feet, was first taken with a violent
cold, which was followed by a fever, which became more alarming every
day. Thus, in addition to the loss of one of their children, Mr and
Mrs Campbell were threatened with being deprived of two more; for their
nieces were regarded as such, and Alfred was in a very precarious state.
The wounds had assumed such an angry appearance, that Mr Campbell was
fearful of mortification. This accumulated distress had, however, one
good effect upon them. The danger of losing Emma and Alfred so occupied
their minds and their attention, that they had not time to bewail the
loss of Percival; and even Mrs Campbell, in her prayers, was enabled to
resign herself to the Almighty's will in taking away her child, if it
would but please Him to spare the two others who were afflicted. Long
and tedious were the hours, the days, and the weeks that passed away
before either of them could be considered in a state of convalescence;
but her prayers were heard, and, as the winter closed, their recovery
was no longer doubtful. A melancholy winter it had been to them all,
but the joy of once more seeing Emma resume her duties, and Alfred,
supported on cushions, able to be moved into the sitting-room, had a
very exhilarating effect upon their spirits. True, there was no longer
the mirth and merriment that once reigned, but there was a subdued
gratitude to Heaven, which, if it did not make them at once cheerful, at
least prevented anything like repining or complaint. Grateful for the
mercies vouchs