In the morning Mrs. Wilson, after waiting beyond the usual time, stepped softly to the bed side of her mother. Struck dumb by the gloriously joyous expression, she went back to the sitting room and beckoned her husband to look before she awoke the sleeper, then leaning forward, said, "mother, _mother_!" "Oh! wonder not, motherless daughter, that she is deaf to your call. Her ears are listening to notes of heavenly music which ravish her soul. Her eyes are feasting on her Saviour, and she is satisfied, now that she beholds his face in glory!" I could not resist the wish to see that beautiful countenance once more before it was forever buried from sight; and my dear Frank went with me to the chamber of death. I felt very sad as we approached the house; but when I entered the room where I had always seen her, and looked beneath the linen cloth which covered her from view, I could not weep. I felt as if I had caught a glimpse of heaven. "Surely," said I, "that wonderful smile is not of earth." "Perhaps," said Frank, "it was the smile of welcome to the messenger who summoned her home. Death was a welcome guest to her." As we gazed we could follow her rapt spirit to the mansions of the blessed, and behold her heart ever more expanding with love to her Saviour and her God. "Thy face Is all at once spread over with a calm More beautiful than sleep, or mirth, or joy." _Wednesday, July 29th._ We have heard that there are great preparations making in Waverley for the welcome of their former pastor. It is now more than a year since Mr. Tyler left them for another field of labor; and when the parish heard that Mr. Benson had returned, they gave him a unanimous call to resettle with them. They have not received a regular answer to their call; but only that he will be with them, providence permitting, the second Sabbath in August. They seem to feel sure, however, that he will prefer to settle with the people of his first love. And they are ready to offer him a better support than they were able to do formerly. The young men are fitting up the grounds about the parsonage, and the whole village is alive with interest. I can't tell whether to be glad or sorry. Perhaps if Emily were to see him often, she would the sooner conquer any remaining interest she may feel for him. Since that first night, if she is indulging grief, she deceives even me. Indeed, I told Frank to-day, after she left the room, that I considered her uncommonly cheerful. But he thought otherwise, and gravely shook his head. _Thursday, July 30th._