by the emotion of family affection, giving a glow to brighten his last hours. At twelve he ate quite freely from the hand of his brother, and talked pleasantly. At five he closed his eyes peacefully, to open them on scenes where he will never "chill" any more, or feel that smothering crowdedness he so significantly expressed in his manner, when he looked at the number of beds about him.
It seems to me now, as though it was not so much the things there were about him, as the discordant, unsympathizing atmosphere, which would most naturally arise from the ever-shifting occupants of those travellers' berths.
Nov. 15th. Our life is a November day, tearful, lowering, and uncertain; promising faintly, and never renewing earnestly our faith in a clean and genial sky. My little Alice is not so well. It does not seem to be the result of a cold, or in any way a relapse. There is an entire change of symptoms. For three weeks past she has simply been laid aside with some fever. She has had bright red cheeks a portion of the day, and no appetite,
