“In this aspect it is beautiful to look upon.  Go with me, then.  The experience will be something accompany you through life.  The image of frightful monster is in your mind; you may now have it displaced by the form of an angel.”

“How strangely you talk, Mrs. Bell!  How can death be an angel?  Is any thing more terrible than death?”

“The phantom called death, which a diseased imagination conjures up, may be terrible to look upon; but death itself is a kind messenger, whose it is to summon us from this world of shadows and changes, to a world of eternal light and unfading beauty.  But come, Mrs. Ellis; I must urge you to go with me.  Do not fear a shock to your feelings, for none will be experienced.”

So earnest were Mrs. Bell’s persuasions, that her friend at last consented to go with her.  At no great distance from the elegant residence of Mrs. Ellis, in an obscure neighbourhood, was a small house, humble in exterior, and modestly, yet neatly attired within.  At the door of this house the ladies paused, and were admitted by a woman somewhat advanced in years, on whose mild face sorrow and holy resignation were beautifully blended.

“How is your daughter?” inquired Mrs. Bell, as soon as they were seated in the small, neat parlour.

“Not so strong as when you were here yesterday,” was answered, with a faint smile.  “She is sinking hourly.”

“But continues in the same tranquil, heavenly state?”

“Oh yes.”  There was a sweet, yet touching earnestness in the mother’s voice.  “Dear child!  Her life has been pure and unselfish; and now, when her change is about to come, all is peace, and hope, and patient waiting for the time when she will be clothed upon with immortality.”

“Is she strong enough to see any one?” asked Mrs. Bell.

“The presence of others in no way disturbs her.  Will you walk up into her chamber, friends?”

The two ladies ascended the narrow stairs, and Mrs. Ellis found herself, for the first time in many years, in the presence of one about to die.  A slender girl, with large, mild eyes, and face almost as white as the pillow it pressed, was before her.  The unmistakable signs of speedy dissolution were on the pale, shrunken features; not beautiful, in the ordinary acceptation of beauty, but from the pure spirit within.  Radiant with heavenly light was the smile that instantly played upon her lips.

“How are you to-day, Anna?” kindly inquired Mrs. Bell, as she took the shadowy hand of the dying girl.

“Weaker in body than when you were here yesterday,” was answered; “but stronger in spirit.”

“I have brought Mrs. Ellis to see you.  You remember Mrs. Ellis?”

Anna lifted her bright eyes to the face of Mrs. Ellis, and said—­

“Oh yes, very well;” and she feebly extended her hand.  The lady touched her hand with an emotion akin to awe.  As yet, the scene oppressed and bewildered her.  There was something about it that was dreamlike and unreal.  “Death! death!” she questioned with herself; “can this be dying?”