many a romp and merry time together, they rushed to his arms as of old.

Then they drew near the bed to give their father his accustomed morning
kiss; but, as they approached, he seemed so still that awe began to
creep over their little faces. A dim recollection of the farewell kiss
given a few hours before, when they were scarcely awake, recurred to
them.

"Father," said the elder (about five), "we want to give you good-
morning kiss."

Seldom had their father been so sick or irritable but that he reached
out his arms to his little ones and gave them a warm embrace, that did
him more good than he realized. The influence of trusting children is
sometimes the most subtile oil that can be thrown on the troubled
waters of life.

But as the little ones saw that their father made no response to their
approach and appeal, they timidly drew a step nearer, and looked into
his wasted, yet peaceful face, with its closed eyes and motionless
repose, and then, turning to their mother, said in a loud whisper,
with faces full of perplexity and trouble, "Is papa asleep?"

The little figures in their white drapery, standing beside their dead
father, waiting to perform the usual, well-remembered household rite,
proved a scene too touching for the poor mother's self-control, and
again she gave way to a burst of sorrow. But her son, true to his
resolution to be the stay and strength of the family, hastened to the
children, and, taking them by the hand, said gently: "Yes, little ones,
papa is asleep. It may be a long time before he wakes, but he surely