And we loved him. Why, there hain't no tellin' how we did love him. And he would talk so pretty about his ma! I had learned him to think that he would see her bime by, and that she loved him now jest as much as ever, and that she _wanted him_ to be a _good boy_. And he wuz a beautiful boy, if his chin wuz sort o' weak. He would try to tell the truth, and do as I would tell him to--and would, a good deal of the time. And he would tell his little prayers every night, and repeat lots of Scripture passages, and would ask more'n 100 questions about 'em, if I would let him. There was one verse I made him repeat every night after he said his prayers: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” And I always would say to him, earnest and deep, that his ma was pure in heart. And he'd say, “Does she see God now?” And I'd say, “Yes.” And he would say, “When shall I see Him?” And I'd say, “When you are good enough.” And he'd say, “If I was good enough, could I see Him now?” And I would say, “Yes.” And then he would tell me that he would try to be good; and I would say, “Wall, so do.” And late one afternoon, a bright, sunny afternoon, he got tired of playin'. He had been a horse, and little Let Peedick had been a drivin' him. I had heard 'em a whinnerin' out in the yard, and a prancin', and a hitchin' each other to the post. But he had got tired about sundown, and come in, and leaned up against my lap, and asked me about 88 questions about his ma and the City. He had never forgot what his uncle Josiah had read about it, and he couldn't seem to talk enough about it. [Illustration: THE BOY AND LET PEEDICK PLAYING HORSE.] And says he, with a dreamy look way off into the glowin' western sky, “My mamma Cicely said it would swing right down out of heaven some day, and would open, and I could walk in; and don't you believe mamma will stand just inside of the gate as she used to, and say, 'Here comes my own little boy'?” And he wus jest a askin' me this,--and it beats all, how many times he had tackled me on this very subject,--when Whitfield drove up in a great hurry. Little Samantha Joe had been taken sick, very sick, and extremely sudden. Scarlet-fever was round, and she and the boy had both been exposed. I was all excitement and agitation; and I hurried off without changin' my dress, or any thing. But I told Josiah to put the boy to bed about nine. Wall, there was a uncommon sunset that night. The west was all aflame with light. And as we rode on towards Jonesville right towards it,--though very anxious about the babe,--I drawed Whitfield's attention to it. The hull of the west did look, for all the world, like a great, shinin' white gate, open, and inside all full of radience, rose, and yellow, and gold light, a streamin' out, and changin', and glowin', movin' about, as clouds will.