During his whole illness that was still his cry--'oh, mother, take away this pain, why don't you take away the pain!'" Mr.Clement was a father, and an affectionate one, and this allusion to the innocence of the little sufferer touched his heart, and he was silent.
The widow proceeded: "there he lies, my only--only son--his departed father's image, and I looked up to him to be one day my support, my pride, and my happiness--but see what he is now! Oh! James, James, wouldn't I lay down my life to save yours!" "You look at the dark side of the picture, Mrs.Vincent," said the curate.

"Think upon what he may escape by his early and his happy death.
You know not, but that there was crime, and sin, and affliction before him.

Consider how many parents there are now in the world, who would feel happy that their children, who bring shame, and distress, and misery upon them, had been taken to God in their childhood.

And, surely, there is still a God to provide for your self and your other little ones; for remember, you have still those who have tender claims upon your heart." "I know you are right, sir," she replied "but in cases like this, nature must have its way.

Death, death, but you're cruel! Oh--blessed Father, what is this!" One last convulsive spasm, one low agonizing groan, accompanied by a relaxation of the little fingers which had pressed her hands, closed the sufferings of the widow's pride.