In ten days the child grew rapidly worse, and Mrs. Allen sent for her husband, who was on one of his Western trips. He came home to find his little daughter so ill, that her life was almost despaired of. Bravely the doctors fought against the dread disease which they feared would end fatally, although they managed to ward off the danger for a time. The Sisters came up from the Convent to see the dear child and try to console her father and mother. We will have all our children and sisters pray if it be God's will to spare your beloved one. AMY'S DEATH. It is a sweet October morning, a tender mist, gray in the distance, rose-colored and golden where the rays of light strike it more directly, envelopes the landscape; the trees are decked in holiday attire--green, russet, orange and scarlet. On a couch placed near the window reclines the meek patient sufferer. Aunt Lucy stands near, Hetty kneels beside her "baby" with a cup of beef tea trying to coax her to swallow a few spoonfuls. "Hetty, dear, don't force me, I am not hungry." "My blessed angel do take just a few drops for your old Hetty." Amy heeded not, her thoughts were far away. "Auntie," she remarked, "isn't that woods like a piece of Heaven? See how the trees glisten as the sun shines on their waving branches. How glorious Heaven must be when earth is so filled with beauty." Aunt Lucy looked into the ethereal face, and unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks. Hetty stooped over the wan little hand, and kissing it, hastened from the room, her heart bursting with grief. In the kitchen she met old Pat, his head bowed and his whole bearing showing the depth of his grief for what all now saw was inevitable. "Hetty," said he in a hoarse whisper, "is she going?" "Oh, Pat, I feel dis is de last day we will have our angel child. Dey done telephoned for Dr. Carroll, he will be here directly." At two o'clock the doctor told the assembled household, that but a few hours of life remained for the dear one. At three o'clock death with "solemn steps and slow," is steadily approaching. Now her voice, which before has been scarcely above a whisper, becomes strong again, as is frequently the case in the dying, and she tries to sing in the old sweet way: "Jesus, Jesus, Dearest Lord." It seems as though the angels were present, Heaven so fills the room. After a moment's rest she turned her eyes on the weeping company, and said: "Don't weep for me, rather rejoice that I will soon be with Our Dear Lord and His Blessed Mother. Mamma, dear, say that beautiful prayer that ends with--'Merciful Jesus have mercy on me.'" "Mamma, dear, you will come to me in Heaven. There will be no parting, we will walk together through the golden streets, and through the beautiful gardens forever. Come, kiss me now, darling mother!" Then she addressed Mr. Allen, who stood with great tear-drops rolling down his face, his heart broken with sorrow.