The years passed, and I became accustomed to my new life, when a message came for me. The palpitating waves repeated, “Mother! mother! mother!” It was my youngest daughter, who had grown almost to womanhood. I knew by her cry that she was in mortal pain, and yielding to the attractions I was soon with her. She was motionless on a couch, surrounded by her relatives, and her cousin held her cold hand. “It is all over,” they said, in tears. “Can it be?” I eagerly asked. “Oh! can it be that the time has already come when I am to have one of my children with me? To have one of them who will know me, and converse with me? Oh! heavenly Father, I thank thee for this answer to my incessant prayer.” Then I looked closely and saw the great transition was approaching. I could not assist; I could only stand by her side and receive her. She seemed asleep, which I fully understood from my own experience. Slowly the spirit left the insensible body, and as I saw my spirit-daughter recovering her senses, I drew near and whispered, “Claribel.” She opened wide her blue eyes, and I knew she saw me. I threw my arms around her, and wept for gladness. “Darling Claribel, do you not know me, your mother?” “Dearest mama,” she said with her old smile, “know you? Why, you are younger, but the same. Where have you been so long? We thought you dead?” “Do you not know?” I asked, apprehensively. “Know? What mean you?” “Yes, I am what they call dead; and were you not likewise, you could not see me!” “I dead?” she replied, with a laugh which recalled her childhood, throwing her arms gracefully over her head. “Look you, mama, how far from it I am. I have been wretchedly sick, and in such fiery pain; but it is over, and I am perfectly well.” We drew to one side, and she then turning saw the friends, weeping, and her body on the couch. “Why do they weep?” she asked, “and who is that on the couch? I am confused, for it is like another self.” “They are weeping for your loss, and that form on the couch is yours.” “Am I to return to it? What am I to do, dear mother?” “No, you will need it no more. Your life is hereafter with me and the angels.” “What mean you, mother, by saying you and I are dead?” “That we are, my child. That is what people call dead.” “I do not understand,” she replied musingly. Then going to her cousin’s side, who was still holding her physical hand, she said, “Cousin Frank, what are you weeping for? Do you not see how well I am?”