Now it was, that confinement was truly painful to me; my soul was bursting from its prison to be near the pillow of my child, to comfort, to strengthen her, to receive her last wishes, and teach her soul the way to heaven! Another account came.

She was expiring, and yet I was debarred the small comfort of weeping by her.

My fellow prisoner, some time after, came with the last account.

He bade me be patient.

She was dead!--The next morning he returned, and found me with my two little ones, now my only companions, who were using all their innocent efforts to comfort me.
They entreated to read to me, and bade me not to cry, for I was now too old to weep.