"YOU have two children," said I.

  "I have four," was the reply; "two on earth, two in heaven."

  There spoke the mother! Still hers, only "gone before!" Still remembered, loved and cherished, by the hearth and at the board;—their places not yet filled; even though their successors draw life from the same faithful breast where their dying heads were pillowed.

  "Two in heaven!"

  Safely housed from storm and tempest. No sickness there, nor drooping head, nor fading eye, nor weary feet. By the green pastures, tended by the good Shepherd, linger the little lambs of the heavenly fold.

  "Two in heaven!"

  Earth less attractive. Eternity nearer. Invisible cords, drawing the maternal soul upwards. "Still small" voices, ever whispering, Come! to the world-weary spirit.

  "Two in heaven!"

  Mother of angels! Walk softly!—holy eyes watch thy footsteps!—cherub forms bend to listen! Keep thy spirit free from earth taint; so shalt thou "go to them," though "they may not return to thee!"