"Kiss me again, dear mother," lisped the slumberer. "Call me your
dear little Eva."

None could tell the workings of that stricken heart, as hour after
hour the mother watched by her sleeping child; but the dawn of
morning found her still the same; statue-like as marble, that once
speaking face reflected not the fires within.

Day after day passed on, and it was evident that the spirit of the
innocent child would soon rejoice in its heavenly home.

She could no longer raise her wasted little form from the bed of
pain, but still her deep blue eyes gazed lovingly upon those around
her, and her soft voice spoke of patience and submission.

The last hour drew near, and the little sufferer lay in her mother's
arms. The destroyer claimed but the frail earthly covering, and even
now the immortal soul shone forth in its heavenly brightness.

"Am I not going to my Father in Heaven?" she whispered, as she gazed
earnestly upon her mother's face.

"Yes, dearest, yes," was the almost inaudible reply.

"And will the good angels watch over me, and be to me as a mother?"
again asked the child.

"Far, far better than any earthly parent, my dear one."

A radiant smile illumined the countenance of the dying child. The