Thus several years passed away; new cares and new duties devolved on them; but all were cheerfully met and delightfully performed; and they basked in the sunshine of God’s love.  Beautiful children sprang up around them, and we felt that “earth never owned a happier nest” than that which was placed in our midst.

How proud Mr. B. was of his family, and with what reason, too, for we all felt it with him; his wife so beautiful, so good, so in all respects fitted to make home happy, with her never-failing sunshine and light-heartedness; his two little girls, our impersonation of cherubs; and the youngest a noble boy, so dear to his mother’s heart.  Oh! how many attractions within that charmed circle!

I shall never forget an evening I passed in the nursery with that dear one surrounded by her happy little band.  Willie, “the baby,” as she called him, although more than two years old, was sitting in her lap, twirling one of her long, beautiful ringlets round his tiny fingers.

“Sing, mamma!” he said.

“Oh, do!” joined in Effie and Minnie, putting their bright innocent faces and soft brown curls close to hers; “sing The Dove, mamma, please.”

She laughingly asked me to excuse her, saying, she always devoted the twilight hour to amusing and instructing the little ones.  I begged her to allow my presence to be no restraint upon her usual custom.  She then commenced, and I thought no seraph’s voice could be sweeter, as she sang one of Mary Howitt’s beautiful translations:—­

  “There sitteth a dove so white and fair
    All on the lily spray,
  And she listeneth how to Jesus Christ
    The little children pray;
  Lightly she spreads her friendly wings,
    And to Heaven’s gate hath fled,
  And to the Father in Heaven she bears
    The prayers which the children have said.

  And back she comes from Heaven’s gate,
    And brings, that dove so mild,
  From the Father in Heaven, who hears her speak,
    A blessing for every child. 
  The children lift up a pious prayer—­
    It hears whatever you say,
  That heavenly dove, so white and fair,
    All on the lily spray.”

I joined heartily in the thanks and admiration the children expressed when she had finished.

As she laid them in their little beds, and kissed their rosy lips and dimpled cheeks, she said, “I can never thank God enough for these sweet children.”  She then added, “Oh! what an affliction it must be to lose a child; I think if one of mine should die, I should die too; but,” she added, “I should not say so; could I not trust them with Him who doeth all things well?” She little realized how soon she was to be put to the test.  I called there a few days after.  She was in the garden raising and tying up some drooping carnations which the rain of the preceding day had injured.

“Willie is not well,” said she.  “I have just sung him to sleep, and Mr. B. said I must take a little fresh air, for I was fatigued with holding him, and I thought I would confine myself to the garden, to be near, if he should wake.”