And so they placed her in her coffin, with a tiny rosebud in either
hand (for she would ever hold flowers longer than any thing else), to
wither in their beauty with her, the pale perishing one. And the holy
man read from the word of God the impressive lesson, "Behold thou hast
made my days as a hand's breadth, and my age is as nothing before
thee;" and offered up fervent prayer in behalf of the afflicted
mourners, and little Mary was borne to the silent tomb.
O, who that listened to that gentle autumn breeze that so softly
sighed among the trees, and fanned the flower that bent slightly
before it, but must feel that there is a God that orders the winds and
the sea, and rules over the destinies of men.
Sad were the hearts of the stricken parents as they returned to their
little cottage, where everything reminded them of their dear lost
child.
Emma stood beside the vacant cradle, and asked many questions about
the departed cousin.
"Why did they take her from her cradle and put her in that little
box?" But was ever comforted by calling her her angel cousin.
But time passed on, and other changes came. They left their cottage
home where this great grief had rested upon them. Another darling
Mary was given them, and found a warm place in their affections. The
husband soon left his wife and child, and sought to build up his
fortune in a distant land, while the wife and mother dedicates her
time to the care of the dearly loved treasure her heavenly Father has
committed to her trust.
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