The landlord and the physician went away. The evening was still, and no comrade came to watch with the suffering patient. The lone night wasted away, until near two o’clock in the morning, when John was released from his mortal body, and we received him, as we had been received. During the last convulsive throes of agony, his wife besought God, imploringly, to have mercy on his soul. Never went up to heaven a more sincere and fervent supplication for aid, than this dejected and despairing wife offered for the companion of her youth. Alas! what wife could do more, when mind is torn from mind, and no appearance of reuniting again. The whole heart was given to her husband, and he honored the marriage vow with a constant integrity, which made even the cottage to smile with the warm affection of true hearts. “I was well satisfied,” said she, “with my poverty, with my union to make me happy; but now, oh, my God! what shall I do? Oh, dear, what can I do in this unfriendly world?” Then she sighed, and sighed from the soul; but her sighs were aggravated by the mournful despondency of her dear children. She was heard to say: “When my father consented to our marriage,” he said, “Mary, you must not think this beautiful world is all sunshine and summer. There will come clouds of sorrow, nights of gloom, and days of adversity. You will remember my saying, Mary, when the winter of bereavement howls its angry blast around your dwelling, and no voice of kindness gladdens the solitude of your weary hours. But now you have consented to marry the man you love; be faithful, even unto death.” Such were the silent meditations of a soul, surcharged with grief, as we witnessed at the cottage of a laborer. Two days afterwards, I saw the body conveyed to the Potter’s Field, and the wife and children to the alms-house. During this period, no landlord came near the cottage. The widow mourned without hope, and the three children clung to her with unusual affection. The boy who was the oldest of the children, seemed to realize the calamity. He said: “Mother, what shall we do now, my dear father is put in the ground?” “I suppose,” she replied, “we shall be separated. Oh, my child, you distress me. You will see your kind father no more. They have buried him in the cold earth.” J. Will he never come home again? M. No; he can not come back here, James. J. Will he stay there in the earth, mother? M. His body will stay there, but his spirit will appear before the bar of God, at the great day of judgment. All will appear before the throne of God to receive their reward; so you must be a good boy, James, that you may go to heaven. J. Has father gone to heaven? M. I don’t know, my child; he was not a member of any church; but he never wronged any body, as I know of. He will wait till he receives the sentence of God, and then all will know. J. How long will he wait, mother? M. I don’t know, my son. J. Where will he wait?