all-pox"; the physician pronounced it "typhus." The only
certainty about it was the issue--the child died.

To me few things appear so beautiful as a very young child in its
shroud. The little innocent face looks so sublimely simple and confiding
amongst the cold terrors of death--crimeless, and fearless, that little
mortal has passed alone under the shadow, and explored the mystery of
dissolution. There is death in its sublimest and purest image--no
hatred, no hypocrisy, no suspicion, no care for the morrow ever darkened
that little face; death has come lovingly upon it; there is nothing
cruel, or harsh, in his victory. The yearnings of love, indeed, cannot
be stifled; for the prattle, and smiles, and all the little world of
thoughts that were so delightful, are gone for ever. Awe, too, will
overcast us in its presence--for we are looking on death; but we do not
fear for the little, lonely voyager--for the child has gone, simple and
trusting, into the presence of its all-wise Father; and of such, we
know, is the kingdom of heaven.

And so we parted from poor little baby. I and his poor old nurse
drove in a mourning carriage, in which lay the little coffin, early
in the morning, to the churchyard of ----. Sore, indeed, was my
heart, as I followed that little coffin to the grave! Another burial
had just concluded as we entered the churchyard, and the mourners
stood in clusters round the grave, into which the sexton was now
shovelling the mould.

As I stood, with head uncovered, listening to the sublime and touching
service which our ritual prescribes, I found that a gentleman had drawn
near also, and was standing at my elbow. I did not turn to look at him
until the earth had closed over my darling boy; I then walked a little
way apart, that I might be alone, and drying my eyes, sat down upon a
tombstone, to let the confusion of my mind subside.

While I was thus lost in a sorrowful reverie, the gentleman who had stood
near me at the grave was once more at my side. The face of the stranger,
though I could not call it handsome, was very remarkable; its expression
was the purest and noblest I could conceive, and it was made very
beautiful by a look of such compassion as I never saw before.

"Why do you sorrow as one without hope?" he said, gently.

"I _have_ no hope," I answered.

"Nay, I think you have," he answered again; "and I am sure you will soon
have more. That little child for which you grieve, has escaped th