st words which met my eye were these--"For our light
affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more
exceeding and eternal weight of glory." This blessed sentence riveted my
attention, and shed a stream of solemn joy upon my heart; and so the
greater part of that mournful night, I continued to draw comfort and
heavenly wisdom from the same inspired source.

Next day brought the odious incident, the visit of the undertaker--the
carpentery, upholstery, and millinery of death. Why has not civilisation
abolished these repulsive and shocking formalities? What has the poor
corpse to do with frills, and pillows, and napkins, and all the equipage
in which it rides on its last journey? There is no intrusion so jarring
to the decent grief of surviving affection, no conceivable mummery more
derisive of mortality.

In the room which we had been so long used to call "the nursery," now
desolate and mute, the unclosed coffin lay, with our darling shrouded in
it. Before we went to our rest at night we visited it. In the morning the
lid was to close over that sweet face, and I was to see the child laid by
her little brother. We looked upon the well-known and loved features,
purified in the sublime serenity of death, for a long time, whispering to
one another, among our sobs, how sweet and beautiful we thought she
looked; and at length, weeping bitterly, we tore ourselves away.

We talked and wept for many hours, and at last, in sheer exhaustion,
dropt asleep. My little wife awaked me, and said--

"I think they have come--the--the undertakers."

It was still dark, so I could not consult my watch; but they were to have
arrived early, and as it was winter, and the nights long, the hour of
their visit might well have arrived.

"What, darling, is your reason for thinking so?" I asked.

"I am sure I have heard them for some time in the nursery," she answered.
"Oh! dear, dear little Fanny! Don't allow them to close the coffin until
I have seen my darling once more."

I got up, and threw some clothes hastily about me. I opened the door and
listened. A sound like a muffled knocking reached me from the nursery.

"Yes, my darling!" I said, "I think they have come. I will go and desire
them to wait until you have seen her again."

And, so saying, I hastened from the room.

Our bedchamber lay at the end of a short corridor, opening from the
lobby, at the head of the stairs, and the nursery was situated nearly at
the end