one thing, I might say without care."

"And what is there to distress thee, in particular, Betsey?" asked
my father, blowing his nose, and speaking with unusual tenderness;
"if it be in my power to set thy heart at ease on this, or on any
other point, name it, and I will give orders to have it immediately
performed. Thou hast been a good pious woman, and canst have little
to reproach thyself with."

My mother looked earnestly and wistfully at her husband. Never
before had he betrayed so strong an interest in her happiness, and
had it not, alas! been too late, this glimmering of kindness might
have lighted the matrimonial torch into a brighter flame than had
ever yet glowed upon the past.

"Mr. Goldencalf, we have an only son--"

"We have, Betsey, and it may gladden thee to hear that the physician
thinks the boy more likely to live than either of his poor brothers
and sisters."

I cannot explain the holy and mysterious principle of maternal
nature that caused my mother to clasp her hands, to raise her eyes
to heaven, and, while a gleam flitted athwart her glassy eyes and
wan cheeks, to murmur her thanks to God for the boon. She was
herself hastening away to the eternal bliss of the pure of mind and
the redeemed, and her imagination, quiet and simple as it was, had
drawn pictures in which she and her departed babes were standing
before the throne of the Most High, chanting his glory, and shining
amid the stars--and yet was she now rejoicing that the last and the