Unto life's dim faded track."

How beautiful, calm, and peaceful is sleep! Often, when I have laid my
head upon my pillow happy and healthful, I have asked myself, to what
shall I awaken? What changes may come ere again my head shall press this
pillow? Ah, little do we know what a day may unfold to us! We know not
to what we shall awaken; what joy or sorrow. I do not know when I was
awakened to more painful intelligence, than when aroused one morning
from pleasant dreams by the voice of a neighbor, saying that Mary Ellen,
the only daughter of a near neighbor, was dying. She was a beautiful
little girl, about three years of age, unlike most other children. She
was more serious and thoughtful; and many predicted that her friends
would not have her long. She would often ask strange questions about
heaven and her heavenly Father; and many of her expressions were very
beautiful.

One day she asked permission of her mother to go and gather her some
flowers. Her mother gave her permission, but requested her not to go out
of the field. After searching in vain for flowers, she returned with
some clover leaves and blades of grass. "Mother," said she, "I could
find you no flowers, but here are some spires of grass and clover
leaves. Say that they are some pretty, mother. GOD made them." Often,
when she woke in the morning, she would ask her mother if it was the
Sabbath day. If told it was, "Then," she would say, "we will read the
Bible and keep the day holy." Her mother always strove to render the
Sabbath interesting to her, and to have her spend it in a profitable
manner. Nor did she fail; for little Mary Ellen was always happy when
the Sabbath morning came. The interest she took in the reading of the
Scriptures, in explanations given of the plates in the Bible, and the
accuracy with which she would remember all that was told her, were truly