In it we find misery enough, we find sorrow and wretchedness, without the hand of compassion being held forth to help the miserable from the deep and fearful gulf with which penury and want abound.
The wedding dress was soiled and crumpled; the bunches of orange blossoms with which it was adorned, lay crushed upon its folds--a fit appearance for the heart of the owner--It looked like a relic of grandeur shining in the midst of poverty, and as its once gaudy folds rested against the counterpane in the bed, the manifest difference of the two appeared striking and significant.
For a moment Mrs.Wentworth gazed upon this last momento of long past happiness, and a spasm of grief contracted her features.

It passed away, however, in an instant, and she laid the dress across the dead body of her child.

Drawing a chair to the bedside, she took from her pocket a spool of thread, some needles and her scissors.

Selecting one of the needles, she thread it, and pinning it in the body of her dress, removed the wedding gown from the body of her child, and prepared to make a shroud of it.

Rapidly she worked at her task, and before darkness had set in, the burial garment was completed, and the body of Ella was enclosed in the last robe she would wear on earth.
The body of the dead child looked beautiful.