"We came near the gate of Mount Auburn, when I began to realize that the parting was very near. I now opened the casket, took your dear little cold hand in mine, and began to take silent farewell of you. And here, dearest child, I must stop. The remembrance of those last moments so cuts me to the heart, that I cannot say one word more about them, and not much about the life of loneliness and desolation which now began for me, and of which I do not see the end. God knows why I lost you, and how I suffer for you, and He knows how and when I shall see you again, as I hope to do, my dearest, because Christ says we are to live again after this life, and I know that if I am immortal, God will not inflict upon me the pain of an eternal separation from you. So, we shall meet again, sweet Angel Sammy. God grant that the rest of my life may be worthy of this hope, more dear than life itself.... "I must finish these words by saying that I am happy in believing that my dear Child lives, in a broader land, with better teaching and higher joys than I could have given him. I hope that the years to come will brighten, not efface, my mind's picture of him, and that among these, the cipher of one blessed year is already written, in which the picture will become reality, and the present sorrow the foundation of an eternal joy." The following stanzas are chosen from among many poems on little Sammy's life and death:-- REMEMBRANCE * * * * * So thou art hid again, and wilt not come For any knockings at the veilèd door; Nor mother-pangs, nor nature, can restore The heart's delight and blossom of thy home. And I with others, in the outer court, Must sadly follow the excluding will, In painful admiration, of the skill Of God, who speaks his sweetest sentence short. At this time she writes to her sister Annie:-- "I cannot yet write of what has come to me. Chev and I feel that we are baptized into a new order of suffering--those who have lost children, loving them, can never be like those who have not. It makes a new heaven and a new earth. The new heaven I have not yet--the blow is too rough and recent. But the new earth, sown with tears, with the beauty and glory gone out of it, the spring itself, that should have made us happy together, grown tasteless and almost hateful. All the relish of life seems gone with him. I have no patience to make phrases about it--for the moment it seems utterness of doubt and of loss.