She saw her son dragged down by the clinging girl into some pit of horrors into which she dared not look, but from whence his father's voice was heard, crying aloud, that in his day and generation he had not remembered the words of God, and that now he was "tormented in this flame." Then she started in sick terror, and saw, by the dim rushlight, Sally, nodding in an arm-chair by the fire; and felt her little soft warm babe, nestled up against her breast, rocked by her heart, which yet beat hard from the effects of the evil dream.

She dared not go to sleep again, but prayed.

And every time she prayed, she asked with a more complete wisdom, and a more utter and self-forgetting faith.

Little child! thy angel was with God, and drew her nearer and nearer to Him, whose face is continually beheld by the angels of little children..