was sinking rapidly, and who she felt was almost dying.

Her husband, an eminent physician, and others, also, the most skilled
physicians of the city, gave up the case as hopeless. The mother felt
that now none but God could or would help; that in the Fulton street
prayer-meeting were sympathizing friends, and to it sent her request.
She came to the meeting herself, to join in their prayers and testify
her faith. The moments of the meeting passed on. One request after
another was read, but hers was not touched. She was sadly disappointed.
Her child was so weak and almost dying, it could not live the day
through, perhaps. The time was within a few minutes, less than three, of
the close of the meeting. She, at last, with faltering steps and
palpitating heart, pressed her way to the desk and asked if her request
was there. Upon search, it was found that it had been overlooked. _Too
late_, said the leader, to _read it to-day_. See, the clock is at its
last moment; but it shall be read first thing at 12 o'clock, to-morrow,
and special prayer shall be offered immediately.

With what heavy heart the mother went away, back to the chamber of the
dying one, none can ever know. All night the waiting ones watched, with
their ceaseless attentions and silent prayers.

_A few minutes before_ 12 _o'clock the body sank, the eyes closed,
pallor came over the features, the spirit seemed gone_, and _all was
still; not a breath, not a motion--death had come_.

The mother had taken her watch, hung it on the pillow of the bed, and
with streaming eyes, yet ceaseless prayer, they watched the slow finger
move to 12 o'clock. At precisely twelve, all joined in prayer, lifting
their hearts to God. _At fifteen minutes past twelve, the daughter