But his strength had left him now, and kissing the shrivelled face of his dying wife, he said, “’Scuse me, Chloe; de sperrit is willin’, but de flesh part is mighty weak and shaky like. Miss Jessie, you pray!” he continued, as the child came to his side. “Yes, honey, pray,” gasped Chloe; and, kneeling down, the little girl began the Lord’s Prayer, occasionally interspersing it with a petition that “God would take the departing soul to heaven.” “Yes, dat’s it,” whispered Chloe; “dat’s better dan all dem fine words ’bout kingdom come and daily bread; dey’ll do for white folks, but God bress old Chloe, de thing for niggers to die on.” “Sing, honey, sing,” she said, at last; and, mingled with the lamentations of the blacks, there arose on the evening air the soft notes of the _Happy Land_, which Jessie sang, bending low towards Chloe, who, when the song was ended, clasped her in her arms, and calling her “a shining angel,” went, we trust, to the better land, where bondage is unknown, and the slave is equal to his master. Loud and shrill rose the wail of the negroes, increasing in violence when it was known that into another cabin the pestilence had entered, prostrating a boy, who, in his agony, called for Jessie and mas’r Richard, thinking they could save him. Late as it was, Mrs. Lansing, Ada, and Lina, were still upon the piazza, which was far more comfortable than their sleeping-room, where they supposed both Halbert and Jessie were safely in bed. They were just thinking of retiring, when suddenly the midnight stillness was broken by a cry so shrill that Mrs. Lansing started to her feet, asking what it was. From her couch by the open door, Aunt Dinah arose, and going out a few rods, listened to the sound, which seemed to come from the negro quarters, whither, at her mistress’s command, she bent her steps. But a short time elapsed ere she returned with the startling news that, “the cholera was thar—that Chloe was dead, and another one had got it and was _vomucking_ all over the night dress of _Miss Jessie_, who was holdin’ his head.” Wholly overcome with fright, Mrs. Lansing fainted, and was borne to her room, where, for a time, she remained unconscious, forgetful of Jessie, who stayed at the quarters long after midnight, ministering to the wants of the sick, of which, before morning, there were five, while others showed symptoms of the rapidly spreading disease. As soon as Mrs. Lansing returned to consciousness, she sent for Jessie, who came reluctantly, receiving her mother’s reproof in silence, and falling away to sleep as calmly as if she had not just been looking upon death, whose shadow was over and around her.