And even before the child could comprehend, she began to tell it of that dear Saviour and His wondrous love; then, as soon as it could speak, she taught it to lisp a simple prayer to Him.

Little Elsie was almost the idol of her father and grandparents, who all looked upon her as a sort of second edition of her mother; more and more so as she grew in size, in beauty, and intelligence.  Our Elsie seemed to find no cloud in her sky during that first year of her motherhood.  “I thought I was as perfectly happy as possible in this world, before our darling came,” she said to her husband one day, “but I am far happier now; for oh! such a well-spring of joy as she is!”

“I am sure I can echo and reecho your words,” he answered, folding the child to his heart.  “How rich I have grown in the last two years!  My two Elsies, more precious than the wealth of the world!  Sometime I’m half afraid I love you both with an idolatrous affection, and that God will take you from me.”  His voice trembled with the last words.

“I have had that fear also,” she said, coming to his side and laying her hand on his arm; “but, Edward, if we put God first, we cannot love each other, nor this wee precious pet, too dearly.”

“No, you are right, little wife.  But we must not expect to continue always, or very long, so free from trial; for ’we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.’  And ’many are the afflictions of the righteous.’”

“But the Lord delivereth him out of them all,” she responded, finishing the quotation.

“Yes, dearest, I know that trials and troubles will come, but not of themselves, and what our Father sends, He will give us strength to bear.  ‘The Lord God is a sun and shield, the Lord will give grace and glory.’”

This conversation was held when the little girl was about a year old.

Early in the following winter Elsie said to the dear old Mrs. Travilla, “Mother, I’m afraid you are not well.  You are losing flesh and color, and do not seem so strong as usual.  Mamma remarked it to me to-day, and asked what ailed you.”

“I am doing very well, dear,” the old lady answered with a placid smile, and in her own gentle, quiet tones.

“Mother, dear mother, something is wrong; you don’t deny that you are ill!” and Elsie’s tone was full of alarm and distress, as she hastily seated herself upon an ottoman beside Mrs. Travilla’s easy chair, and earnestly scanned the aged face she loved so well.  “We must have Dr. Barton here to see you.  May I not send at once?”

“No, dearest, I have already consulted him, and he is doing all he can for my relief.”

“But cannot cure you?”

The answer came after a moment’s pause.

“No, dear; but I had hoped it would be much longer ere my cross cast its shadow over either your or Edward’s path.”

Elsie could not speak; she only took the pale hands in hers, and pressed them again and again to her quivering lips, while her eyes filled to overflowing.