will be with me."

"It will be a most happy day, Aunt Mabel," said May, dashing a tear
from her cheek. "Now tell me something about our Immaculate Mother.
Do you ever think of her?"

"Oh, Miss May! how can I think of _Jesus Christ_--how can I love him,
without thinking of, and loving her? If I go down to the manger, thar
she is, watching over him, or holding him on her bosom; if I go through
Salem's marble city, honey, thar she is, close by her divine Son; if I
go to Calvary, what do I see?" said old Mabel, lifting her shrivelled
hand, and dim eyes to heaven, while tears flowed over her swarthy
cheeks; "I see the Son of God, and the Son of Mary--Jesus Christ,
hanging on the rough wood; his head, his hands, his feet, his side,
dropping blood from the torn flesh. I see him dying for me; and down
at his feet, his mother suffering with him. Ah, honey, it was a heavy
burden she bore that dark day! The suffering of her son--her own
pangs--the sins of the world, for which both suffered, as it 'pears to
me, was too much for one human heart. Oh, don't any body talk to me
'bout not loving the Blessed Virgin! With one breath, I say, 'Have
mercy on me, sweet Jesus!' with the other, I say, 'Pray for me, Virgin
mother, without sin!' It's the last thing I say at night, and the
first I say in the morning."

"But you don't worship the Blessed Virgin, Aunt Mabel?" said May, with
a smile.

"Worship her, honey? No! but God honored and loved her. SHE was the
mother of the dear Jesus; the 'mount of her sufferings was for him and
us, and _I_ love her--_I_ honor her, and I go to her like a little