overcome, the last enemy, and, in doing so, helping to sustain and to
comfort those who loved her, will perceive that it is a gift from God
whose value nothing can increase. Bereavement and separation take
nothing from it, but, on the contrary, they illustrate and enforce our
obligations. For since we must needs die, and are as water that is
spilled upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again, such a death
as this amounts to positive happiness by the side of a contrasted
experience in the joyless, hopeless death of a child, or friend. But
without further preface, I proceed to the narrative.

* * * * *

Never before had it fallen to my lot to bear that message to one who was
sick, "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." In previous cases of
deep, personal interest, this has been unnecessary. But in the present
case there was a resolute purpose, and an expectation, of recovery, till
within a week of dissolution, and, on our part, a belief that life might
still be lengthened. Such cases involve nice questions of duty. Where
the patient has evidently made timely preparation to die, it is needless
to dispel that half illusion which seems to be one feature of
consumption--an illusion which is so thin that we feel persuaded the
patient sees through it, while, nevertheless, it serves all the purposes
of hope. To take away that hope where no beneficial end is to be
secured, is cruel. A mistaken, and somewhat morbid, sense of duty to
tell the whole truth, and a conscientious but unenlightened fear of
practising deception, sometimes lead friends to remove, from a sick
person, that power which hope gives in sustaining the sickness, in
prolonging comfort, and in helping the gradual descent into the grave.
When a sick person is resolute and hopeful, it is surprising to see how
many annoyances of sickness are prevented or easily borne, and how life,