Sally Tells of Her Sweethearts, and Discourses on the Duties of Life Sally and Miss Benson took it in turns to sit up, or rather, they took it in turns to nod by the fire; for if Ruth was awake she lay very still in the moonlight calm of her sick bed.

That time resembled a beautiful August evening, such as I have seen.

The white, snowy rolling mist covers up under its great sheet all trees and meadows, and tokens of earth; but it cannot rise high enough to shut out the heavens, which on such nights seem bending very near, and to be the only real and present objects; and so near, so real and present, did heaven, and eternity, and God seem to Ruth, as she lay encircling her mysterious holy child.
One night Sally found out she was not asleep.
"I'm a rare hand at talking folks to sleep," said she.

"I'll try on thee, for thou must get strength by sleeping and eating.

What must I talk to thee about, I wonder.