Soon a cry from the nursery was heard; she sprang up the steps in nervous haste, while I quite chided her anxiety.  I followed her into the room, and was surprised and shocked to find the dear boy in a high fever; his little arms tossing restlessly, and his lips dry and parched.  Mr. B. sent immediately for the physician; we waited anxiously his arrival, hoping secretly that we were unnecessarily alarmed; but his coming did not reassure us; he saw dangerous symptoms; but still, he said, he hoped for the best.  I went home, as Mr. and Mrs. B. both declined my services for the night, saying they would rather attend him alone.  The next day I was pained to hear that his symptoms were more unfavourable; that the medicine had had no effect, and the physician was becoming discouraged.  I flew over to the “parsonage;” the wildly anxious look of the mother distressed me.  I begged her to lie down a little while, and allow me to take her place by the baby.

“Oh, no,” she said, “I cannot leave him; who but his mother should be by his side?”

It seemed to me that I had never seen greater distress on any countenance.  Mr. B. endeavoured to soothe her, though his anguish was apparently as keen as her own.

“If our Saviour would remove this little flower to his own garden, shall we refuse to give it up?  Shall we not rather bless and thank him for allowing us to keep it so long?”

“Oh, yes!” she said, “He doeth all things well; I know that he does not willingly afflict nor grieve the children of men.  I know that whom He loveth he chasteneth, and I can say, ‘Thy will be done.’  Nature is powerful, but my Saviour feels for me, and will forgive the inward struggle.”

All that night they watched his little life fast ebbing away.  Towards morning his sufferings seemed to cease; he smiled upon his parents.  Hope for a moment revived in their hearts, but soon to be displaced by bitter anguish.  Daylight showed the marked change in his features and complexion that told too plainly the messenger was very near.

“Speak to me, Willie,” she exclaimed, bending over him in an agony of grief.

“Mamma,” he said, and, with the effort, his little spirit took its flight.

Much has been said and written upon the death of infants, but when we see so much of wickedness in the world, so much of sin to blight, so much sorrow to fade, can we wonder that the Lord of Paradise loves to transplant to a fairer clime these frail buds of earth, there to have a beautiful and unfading development!

We saw no more of our precious friends till the day of the funeral.  This was their first affliction, and none liked to intrude on the sanctity of their grief, though many tears were shed, and hearts went out to them; but we felt that they knew whom they had trusted, and that under the shadow of His wings they could rest securely till the storm was past.

A neighbouring clergyman was to perform the last sad office for the dead.  Most lovely did little Willie look in his coffin.  The child-like, beautiful expression still lingered.  Rare flowers, the smallest and whitest, had been placed in the tiny hand, and shed their fragrance throughout the room.