Night was coming on. The tall elms which beautify the little village of G---- were waving to and fro their pendent branches, heavy with the evening damp, and as the boughs swayed against the window panes of one of the largest mansions in the town, the glass was moistened by the crystal drops. But heavier and colder was the dew that gathered upon the forehead of the sufferer within; for extended upon the couch lay a dying woman. The trembling hand of an aged man wiped the forehead, and the tears that stood in his eye told that his remaining days on earth must be uncheered by the kind voice and radiant smile of her who had been a mother to his children. Those children, grown to full age, were there, and if need be could have borne clear and convincing testimony that sometimes, at least, the connection between a step-mother and her husband's family is only productive of good. But where were her own offspring? Three noble looking men, and as many matrons, owed their existence and education to her, and she had hoped, ere she died, to behold once more their faces. Soft and gentle were the hands that smoothed her pillow; low and sweet were the voices that inquired of her wants, but dear to her as were these, they were not _her own_, and the mother's heart yearned once more to trace their father's likeness in the tall dark-eyed sons who but a few years ago were cradled in her arms. And can these feelings cause the pang which seems at once to contract the face? So thinks her step-daughter, as she says, "They will be here to-morrow, mother." "It is not that, my dear," murmured the sick one, "but when I was just now enjoying the blessedness of committing my soul to Him who died for me, when feeling my own unworthiness of one of his many mercies, I had cast myself on the mercy of the 'Sinner's Friend,' like a wave of agony rushed in upon me the thought that my dear sons have denied the divinity of the Savior, into whose name they were baptized, and who laid down his life to redeem them. Oh! could I be assured that they would be led back to their fathers' God, I could die happy." There was stillness in this chamber of death. The invalid's pale lips moved as if in prayer, and soon the lids were raised, and the brilliant black eye was lighted up as of old, and triumphant was the strain that burst forth. "I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He will keep that which I have committed to Him, my most precious treasures, _my children_, against that day. I know Him--I rest in His faithfulness." The smile lingered on her features, but the spirit had fled. * * * * * The Green Mountain range in Massachusetts presents a series of most magnificent scenery, and in the villages which nestle among its summits, dwell some of the noblest hearts and sturdiest frames of New England.