to anger; but he turned when his son sank from his sight groaning in
spirit, and shut himself up in his chamber, not daring to see Mr.
Lambert till his wrath was in some degree abated. He secluded himself
in his room four days, suffering intensely, and then went forth among
men an altered man, for the fearful death of his son had made an
impression upon his mind never to be obliterated by time.

He was a man of sorrow, having separated from his family on account of
domestic troubles, and this, his only son, was his greatest comfort.

His eldest daughter Matilda, was married to a man in the same
neighborhood, and had been a witness of her brother's sudden death.
She was young in years, but insidious consumption was sapping the
secret springs of life, and that awful sight gave her a shock from
which she never recovered. The wretched father soon left that part of
the country and journeyed to a far distant southern city, and far, far
away in a land of strangers, they made his grave. No dear child was
near to wipe the dew of death from his noble brow, or to minister to
his necessities, or to close his weary eyes as they cast their sad
glances upon a world that had been to him a world of trial.

Matilda gradually failed. She had given her heart with her hand in
early youth, to a young man of moderate circumstances, but prudent and
industrious; and by these means they procured a comfortable living,
and with this they were contented. She united her industry with that
of her husband, and her good management gave a neat and almost an
elegant appearance to their little cottage home, which peeped out like
a bird's nest from the trees that surrounded it. Charles Abbot was a
happy man, happy in the consciousness of well doing, happy in the love
of his wife, and in the caresses of two little boys, the pledges of