Then I heard Ernest--my dear, calm, self-controlled Ernest--burst out crying and rush out of the room. I looked after him, and how I loved him! But I felt that I loved my Saviour infinitely more, and that if He now let me come home to be with Him I could trust Him to be a thousand-fold more to Ernest than I could ever be, and to take care of my darling baby and my precious mother far better than I could. The very gates of heaven seemed open to let me in. And then they were suddenly shut in my face, and I found myself a poor, weak, tempted creature here upon earth. I, who fancied myself an heir of glory, was nothing but a peevish, human creature-very human indeed, overcome if Martha shook the bed, as she always did, irritated if my food did not come at the right moment, or was not of the right sort, hurt and offended if Ernest put on at one less anxious and tender than he had used when I was very ill, and-in short, my own poor faulty self once more. Oh, what fearful battles I fought for patience, forbearance and unselfishness! What sorrowful tears of shame I shed over hasty, impatient words and fretful tones! No wonder I longed to be gone where weakness should be swallowed up in strength, and sin give place to eternal perfection! But here I am, and suffering and work lie before me, for which I feel little physical or mental courage. But "blessed be the will of God." APRIL 5.-I was alone with father last evening, Ernest and Martha both being out, and soon saw by the way he fidgeted in his chair that he had something on his mind. So I laid down the book I was reading, and asked him what it was. "My daughter," he began, "can you bear a plain word from an old man?" I felt frightened, for I knew I had been impatient to Martha of late, in spite of all my efforts to the contrary. I am still so miserably unwell. "I have seen many death-beds," he went on; "but I never saw one where there was not some dread of the King of Terrors exhibited; nor one where there was such absolute certainty of having found favor with God to make the hour of departure entirely free from such doubts and such humility as becomes a guilty sinner about to face his Judge." "I never saw such a one, either," I replied; "but ere have been many such deaths, and I hardly know of any scene that so honors and magnifies the Lord." "Yes," he said, slowly; "but they were old, mature, ripened Christians." "Not always old, dear father. Let me describe to you a scene Ernest described to me only yesterday." He waved his hand in token that this would delay his coming to the point he was aiming at.