* * * * *

The beautiful boy passed away just as his little lips had learned to
pronounce his mother's name--suddenly, unexpectedly to us all, and all
yielded to our grief but Ellen. We greatly feared his father would
become insane.

But Ellen--believe me, she was transformed from a child of sunshine to
an angel and minister of light in darkness. She sat by her husband as
serene and collected as if her babe only slept; not a tear swept her
cheek, not a tremulous word fell from her lips, as she soothed her
stricken companion; her pale face wore no look of despair, and she
directed every funeral preparation with as much composure as if _her_
heart had not felt the awful wound. The world called her heartless,--but
Christ must have owned her as one of his brightest jewels, almost a
perfect disciple. When she spoke, we felt as if some mysterious power
from heaven was in our midst. We thought as much of the saint-like
fortitude and resignation of our feeble Ellen, and wept as much to
witness her calmness and spiritual strength, as for the loss of our
interesting little friend.

Our pastor called to offer gospel consolations to the sorrowing mother,
but he wept as Ellen greeted him, saying, "God hath much love for us,
Brother Ellis, for he chasteneth much. Now, my only prayer is, that
Henry may be led to perceive it and be at peace. If you have words of
comfort, go to him and still his troubled spirit."

The aged came to console her, but went back to their dwellings feeling
that she was as well instructed in the wisdom of heaven as the oldest