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The roses had gone from her cheeks, and the smile from her lips. True, the sunlight would sometimes come dancing over her pale face, but it was a sweet sad smile, almost like the last faint ray of the setting sun. I knew that Colonel Ogilvie saw the change in his wife; I knew it by the tender way in which he spoke to her, as if addressing some one he was soon to lose. Each time I saw her the conviction deepened. At last I seized an opportunity of saying to her,

“ Are you ill ?”

“Yes," she said. “Do you see it? I feel 80 different.”

“Have you seen a physician ?”

“No, for it is useless. There is only one that can do me good, and He is the Great Physician.”

“Very true. But do you not think a voyage to England will benefit you? I remember hearing you say how much you longed to go to Davenham again, and see your father and mother.”

“ Ah, yes! I remember it also; but they : will never see me again.”

And she covered her face with her thin white hands, and tears that trickled down between her fingers showed that she was

weeping, We were both silent for a few moments, then she resumed the conversation :

“I always thought I should like to go home to die, but now I am quite resigned; I can die here as well as there."

“ Annie, that is not of much consequence; shall you go Home afterwards that is the question.”

There was a pause, after which she said,

“ Yes; that was what I used to keep thinking in the wood. I felt there that I should not live long; and Grace used to speak so sweetly of the Lion of the tribe of Judah.' She is a good child.”

“I think so; she loves the Lord Jesus Christ. Oh, Annie, if you could only say that too !

“Well, I feel that I can fix my hopes on him. I long to be more like him.”

A wistful look came over her face as she looked up at the blue skies above and said,

“ After all the trouble, I sometimes sigh for


“He giveth his beloved sleep.” “Yes, yes, that is what I want-sleep-rest.

««• There shall no tempests blow,

No burning ncontide heat,
There shall be no more snow,

No weary wandering feet.'”

“ There is a rest that remaineth for the people of God,' a calm that shall not endall purchased by the blood of Christ.”

“ Yes; I place my trust on him alone,” she said wearily. “In him alone,” she murmured softly to herself. A blessed hope for the hour of death, when earthly love must fail, when we need a firmer hand to guide, a surer arm to lean on, a truer heart to pity-the hand of the Almighty, the arm of the Omnipotent, and the heart of Infinite Love.

A few weeks passed away, and her time had come. The angel of death stood beside hernot robed in sable and shrouded in darkness and gloom.

“Oh! not in cruelty, not in wrath

The reaper came that day,
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,

And took the flower away.” Somewhat suddenly and somewhat unexpectedly the hour of death came. In the early morn, ere the sun had fully risen, the messenger arrived. The only person with her was her husband, who, bending over her, saw the change steal over her features. He turned to summon help, but she stayed him.

“Never mind, Robert.” The words came low and faint, words from

the border-land on which she stood between the finite and the Eternal.

“I am dying-going home. Oh, that we may meet there?

He bent his face to hers as she lay so white and still on the pillow. “Don't-don't speak so, Annie. You will break my heart,” he moaned in his agony.

“Hush! hush! Blessed Jesus! I come! I come! I shall see you, again, Robert-for ever—there."

One effort to point upwards, one smile, and then without a sigh the soul of Annie Ogilvie winged its way to the Father's house above. *

* * In the quiet little churchyard at Davenham there stands a white marble cross, with the simple inscription :

$acred to the Memory





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“Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand,

And the sound of a voice that is still ! '


GLOOM had fallen over the small family

-smaller than ever now. As the months s rolled on in their order, fresh thoughts, fresh objects occupied their minds and attention ; but the great sorrow that had come upon them was fresher than all else.

Grace had become more essential than ever to her father. The little figure shrouded in mourning presided over the household, and went about her daily duties as if they had always been hers.

Hers was not a demonstrative nature, and the sorrow at her heart lay heavily, in spite of her activity. One thing her father noticed, that since her mother's death she had seldom

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