when their second daughter was taken alarmingly ill. When the dear child
was told that she must return home with her little brother, not a murmur
escaped her lips. Not that she cared nothing for the ocean, or the
treasures upon its beach; but she had learned the great lesson of
self-denial, although so young. A moment before, and she was exulting in
prospect of the joyous rambles in which she should participate, amidst
the groups of sportive children collected at the watering place. But
when the carriage was brought to the door, and her little bonnet was
being tied on, not even, 'I am sorry' was uttered by her, although her
whole frame trembled with emotion. With a hurried, though cheerful,
'good bye, mother,' she leaped into the coach and was gone.

The two children were brought home to me; and as day after day passed
and no favorable intimation reached us respecting the sick child, I had
ample opportunity to see how she resorted to her old refuge, prayer.
Often would the dear child return to me with the clear light shining in
her countenance, after a short season of retirement for prayer. I feel
my heart grow warm, now, after the lapse of a quarter of a century
nearly, as I recall _that look_, and that winning request, 'Aunty, may I
stay with you? the children plague me.' Her two little playmates were
boys; and they could not understand why she refused to unite in their
boisterous sports. She could buckle on their belts, fix on their riding
caps, and aid them in mounting their wooden horses; but why she would
not race up and down with them upon a cane, they could not comprehend.
She was patient and gentle, towards her little brother. It was a great
treat to her, to be permitted to take him out to walk. I have seldom
seen more gratitude expressed by a child, than she manifested, when she
found that 'aunty' reposed confidence enough in her, to permit her to
take him out alone. And how careful she was not to abuse that
confidence, by going beyond the appointed limits. Often since then I