Their life had been one long dream of happiness, unmarred, save by those light clouds of sorrow, which at times flit across the horrizon of man's career, but which are swiftly driven away by the sunshine of happiness, or dissipated by the gentle winds of life's joyous summer.
And the crowds passed her in silence and surprise, but she heeded them not.

Her thoughts were of the angel daughter in the negro's lonely cabin.

To her she carried life; at least she thought so, but the inevitable will of Death had been declared.

Ella was dying.
The eye of God was still turned from the widow and her children.

He saw them not, but his Angels, whose duty it is to chronicle all that occurs on earth, looked down on that bright autumn day, and a tear fell from the etherial realms in which they dwelt, and rested upon the Soldier's Wife.
It was the tear of pity, not of relief..