"I cannot tell how it is," said she, "but I feel as though this was the last meal I shall ever eat with my husband and Maggie; perhaps I shall not eat this." She never did. Half an hour after that, the house was in wild commotion. "Where is Mr. Reagan?--where is Maggie?--call the doctor!--oh, dear!--oh, dear! Mrs. Reagan is in a fit." It was a fit which all must have sooner or later. Her forebodings, from whatever cause they came, had given her prescience of her death. The husband and daughter were soon kneeling over her where she had fallen upon the floor, vainly trying to revive animation. The physician vainly essayed his skill. "It is too late. My mother is in heaven." "It is certain she is in the hands of God, and she died with a blessing on her lips for her child," said one of the women who were present when she fell. "What did she say, Angeline?" "Sally, how was it? you heard it best." This is drunken Sal and old Angeline, whom you have seen before. They, too, are inmates; sober, industrious ones, of the House of Industry. "She said, 'Oh, God, forgive me all my sins! And my husband, forgive him, oh, Lord! as I do. Margaret, oh, God! I thank thee for sending her to see me once more--God bless as I do my dear Maggie. I die in peace, I die--dying--hap--Oh!' and she fell forward; I caught her in my arms, and laid her down gently, but she never breathed again." "Oh, mother, mother, are you dead, dead, dead! Will you never, never speak to your Maggie again? Oh! it is so hard to part with you now, just as we were going to be so happy, and all live together." "Yes," said Angeline, "and that reminds me to tell you that she said just before she died, but I thought she was talking wild like, that if she did not see you again, that I must tell you not to go back to Westchester, but you must be sure to stay with your father, he would be so lonesome when she was gone." The poor husband was lonesome; he already felt it. Then he felt what blessings he had left. He had good health and strength, and a most affectionate good child to comfort him in his old age. And then he poured out such a prayer, as all ought to hear who lack courage to go on in the glorious work of lifting up the fallen, and giving strength to the feeble, and forgiveness to the erring. The day closed in sadness, yet there were some who witnessed the sad scene who felt that "it is good to be afflicted."