Emma's first summer and winter at Appledale had pa.s.sed away. It was a beautiful morning in May; Martha Lindsay was sitting beside a low couch where her young sister was sleeping so sweetly, so gently, that she had more than once placed her cheek close to those parted lips fearing that the breath was gone. Dora was in her little room adjoining Emma's, and with hands uplifted in prayer, was asking this one thing of the Lord, that as in life so in death, Emma might glorify him. Mrs. Lindsay was pacing the floor in her own chamber, now weeping as if her heart would break, and now striving in this hour of deep distress, to do as Emma had long entreated her to do, namely, to come weary and heavy laden to Him who in no wise will cast us out. Mr. Graffam was at work in the garden; but his eye, now clear and intelligent, often rested on the chamber windows where the curtains were folded so close and solemnly.

Susan Sliver had watched with Emma many a night, and now she had retired for a few moments while Emma slept. Susan no longer sighed for Olivet and Kedron, for in a Christian's earnest daily work she had found places equally sacred.

"I have come to hear thy dying testimony, Emma," said friend Sliver, as drawing his broad-brimmed hat more closely over his eyes, the old man took his seat beside the bed.

Emma smiled feebly. "Are any more of my friends here?" she asked.

"f.a.n.n.y Brighton is in the keeping-room," said Martha.

"Call her," whispered Emma; and in a few moments f.a.n.n.y was kneeling beside the bed sobbing violently, while Emma pressed her hand, but could not speak. But there was a bright triumphant smile upon her face as Mary Palmer came in; and Mary smiled too through her tears. She had spent many a day with Emma since that first summer at Appledale; and now, though a little girl, and a young Christian, she felt somewhat as did Elisha when he awaited the hors.e.m.e.n and chariot which were coming for Elijah.

Emma looked around the room and stretched her hand toward her mother, who had just entered with Dora. Mrs. Lindsay took that cold hand into her own, and then Emma repeated I Cor. xiii, 13, "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."

Emma's breath grew shorter, but she was able to add a verse which she had often read in Dora's hymn book:--

"This is the grace must live and sing When faith and hope shall cease, And sound from every joyful string Through all the realms of bliss."

These were the last audible words uttered by Emma. When another morning came it found her cold and silent, dressed for the grave. The spring blossoms breathed their sweet fragrance into her open window, but Emma was gone--gone to the land of unfading bloom; yet her life, short and beautiful as the spring, had left in pa.s.sing a more enduring fragrance than that of early blossom and flower.

Little by little does the husbandman cast the precious seed into the earth, and drop by drop comes the genial shower upon the green herb, yet who does not despise the day of small things? Young, feeble Christian, the world will never do thee justice, for in the great war of mighty deeds thy meek, noiseless charity is unheard and forgotten; but fear not, G.o.d keeps his own jewels. Do what thou canst, and thus provide for thyself "a treasure in the heavens that faileth not."

There are some things spoken of in the town where Emma died, things not wholly forgotten, but far back in the distance of years. It is said that Mr. Graffam, who is now a Church-member and a town officer, was once a complete sot, living in a log-hut upon the plain. So much for the temperance reform. It is said, too, that the pious, charitable old lady, Mrs. Lindsay, and her good daughter Martha, now living at Appledale, were once very thoughtless, fashionable people; that the gentle, amiable Mrs. Boyd was, when a girl and living with her grandparents, one of the rudest and most reckless creatures living; that Susan and Margaret Sliver, now earnest, efficient co-operaters in every good cause, were once vain, frivolous, and almost hopelessly sentimental. Many such things are said; but there are but few who trace the changes that have taken place in those characters to their proper cause. We think, however, that if these persons could express what their secret hearts feel, they would ascribe the changes they have experienced to the grace of G.o.d first influencing them through the medium of simple Christian courtesy.