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 vision of a dream which it is the greatest joy of the waking thoughts to dispel, but which alas, chilling all the warmth of her nature, was now to be faced as a reality. Mr. Claremont opened his eyes again, and motioning her to kiss him, thus addressed her, "Trust your Heavenly Father as confidingly as you have trusted me and all will be well with you. If his discipline shall seem sterner than mine, remember that he has also as much greater power to reward." At thes.e words all her pent up anguish burst forth, and—she fell weeping on the bed. He raised his hand feebly to fondle for the last time the pet curl, one shorter and more silky than the rest, and giving the other to Walter, said.

His voice faltered, his hand dropped from the curl that had twined itself around his finger, a smile of ineffable love, joy and peace passed over his features, and his spirit crossed the portals to the unseen world. He had gone to his Thanksgiving feast in heaven.

There is something deeply significant in the placid serenity of the death smile. In the tumultuous rush of emotions that crowd upon us at such a moment when every careless word and thoughtless act come like so many accusing spirits, we feel that all is forgiven, and nothing can disturb that peaceful repose. Is it not so?

In that realm of higher knowledge to which the spirit ascends in its nearer approach to the infinite Source of all wisdom and love, no dross of earthly