For years she had plied that slender instrument—which has indeed proved an instrument of torture to many a toiling, suffering woman—patient, resigned, and cheerful, as long as she could earn the necessities of life for her dear mother, who was unable to do much of anything for herself. It was thought that the mother would depart from the mortal life long before the daughter; but exposure to a heavy storm had given a severe cold to the poor girl, and in a few days she was pronounced dying with pneumonia. Who can describe the terrible grief of the stricken mother as the labored breathing of her child told only too well that the end was near! But angels watched beside that humble bed, and when the last breath was drawn, they mercifully cast a spell of unconsciousness over the mother’s senses, while they gently bore the arisen spirit to a haven of rest. In the midst of a charming spirit vale, where beautiful flowers bud and bloom, and fill the balmy air with fragrance, where the stately trees cast a pleasant shade over many a mossy bank, where glistening waters dash musically along between beds and thickets of roses, and where birds make music as they glance here and there in the soft and mellow light, there is a bower composed entirely of roses, red and white, which lift their regal heads and offer incense to the breeze. This bower has been constructed by loving angels for the resting-place of that beautiful spirit, whose illness and death I have just described. Within the bower, upon a bed of dewy May-flowers and violets, the spirit form of the maiden reclines; she is robed in garments of white, arranged about her by ministering spirits. She has been resting, drawing long draughts of health and strength from the flowers beneath and around her; the paleness disappears from her cheek, which loses its thin, attenuated appearance; the eyes no longer appear dim and sunken from exhaustion, but as they flash open, reveal a luster and beauty untold. She starts, looks around, but perceiving the flowers, utters a low cry of rapture, and grasping the roses, May-flowers, and violets in her arms, she presses them to her bosom and buries her face in the rich fragrance of their leaves. Never before has she seen so many fresh and beautiful flowers together; never has she possessed so great a quantity of blossoms in her life; and she revels in their fragrant beauty with unmitigated delight. But she is not long allowed to remain thus alone; loving spirits, gentle women, whose souls are all love and tenderness, enter the bower, and, taking the maiden by the hand, give her loving welcome in kindly words. She gazes upon them in delight; they appear to her the embodiment of all that is lovely and pure; and as they kindly greet her in her heavenly home, her spirit becomes filled with affection and gratitude for all that she sees.