Before he had time to ask a question, Jenny's arms were wound around his neck, and she whispered, "Rose is dead .-- Why were you so late ?" He could not answer.

He had nothing to say, and mechanically following his sister he entered the room where Rose had died.

Very beautiful had she been in life; and now, far more beautiful in death, she looked like a piece of sculptured marble; as she lay there so cold, and still, and all unconscious of the scalding tears which fell upon her face, as Henry bent over her, kissing her lips, and calling upon her to awake and speak to him once more.
When she thought he could bear it, Jenny told him of all Rose had said, and by the side of her coffin, with his hand resting upon her white forehead, the conscience-stricken young man swore, that never again should ardent spirits of any kind pass his lips, and the father who stood by and heard that vow, felt that if it were kept, his daughter had not died in vain.
The day following the burial.

George and Mary returned to Chicopee, and as the next day was the one appointed for the sale of Mr.
Lincoln's farm and country house, he also accompanied them.
"Suppose you buy it," said he to George as they rode over the premises.

"I'd rather you'd own it than to see it in the hands of strangers." "I intended doing so," answered George, and when at night he was the owner of the farm, house and furniture, he generously offered it to Mr.Lincoln rent free, with the privilege of redeeming it whenever he could.
This was so unexpected, that Mr.Lincoln at first could hardly find words to express his thanks, but when he did he accepted the offer, saying, however, that he could pay the rent, and adding that he hoped two or three years of hard labor in California, whither he intended going, would enable him to purchase it back.