When I returned from church and was passing into Emily's room, Frank came out and led me to my boudoir. His eyes were inflamed as if he had been weeping. He sat down by me when I had laid off my bonnet, and said softly, "I know, dear Cora, that you will join me in giving God the praise, for salvation has come to this house." He then told me that soon after we left, Emily requested him to bring the Bible to the side of the bed, and read the parable of the prodigal son. He did so, and read in a low tone until he came to the eighteenth verse, when she interrupted him, and with her eyes closed, and her hands clasped as if in prayer, she repeated the words, "I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy child." She remained in the same attitude for a few moments, when she put her hand into her brother's, saying, "dear Frank, God, my Heavenly Father, has forgiven me." He sank down by her side and buried his face in his hands. "Dear brother," she whispered after a short pause, "will you ask God to enable me to consecrate my life to his service?--My life, which has been heretofore worse than wasted." It was some time before he could pray audibly, though his whole soul was filled with gratitude and praise. He had subsequently some delightful conversation with her, in the course of which she exhibited evidence of a regenerate heart. _Wednesday, September 9th._ I have been with my dear husband this afternoon to attend the funeral of Caroline Leighton, who died on Monday evening full of peace and trust in her Saviour. Her last words were uttered but half an hour before she expired, and were, "For I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." She had previously left messages of love for all her friends, together with some little parting token of affection. She begged her father to tell the Doctor what comfort and joy she had experienced in her dying hour; and when he suggested that she should send her thanks for all his attention both to her spiritual and temporal wants, she looked up to him with a smile, and said, "tell him no thanks of mine can repay him, but God will reward him." With a true refinement of feeling she presented me with a little collection of hymns which Frank had given her, and in which she had marked those which best expressed her feelings. "Oh, Death! Youth and the opening rose May look like things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee--but thou art not of those That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey." _Thursday, September 10th._