"Draw near me, William; I have so much I want to say, and now I feel too truly how rapidly I am drifting away. When I close my eyes I see so many happy, familiar faces, just a little way above, in the clouds. They are beckoning me away. Tell me, what day is this?" "Thanksgiving, dear. But, pray, do not talk so. You are not going to leave me yet, Mary. You will be, you are better," said her husband, bending sorrowfully over her. "Yes, I will be well, soon. I shall not see to-morrow's sun. Promise me, my husband, to try and make our boy feel as little as possible his loss. Be to him what I have been. He is a strange, shy child, and reminds me much of my own childhood. You scarcely know him, you have been so completely absorbed in your business all the time. Be with him, have him more with you. There is no need now of your being such a slave to business. You are prospering, you will be rich. Oh! do not let your heart become so encased in gold as to render it inaccessible to all higher, better feelings. In years to come another will occupy my place, but, oh! William, do not let those new ties come between you and your first-born. Give me your hand, and with it the pledge to make his welfare your first thought. "Thank you, dear! you have lifted a great weight from my heart. The only doubt is cleared away. Here put our wedding ring on your finger! How tight it fits. It will be a constant reminder of your pledge. Now bring Willie to me." She gradually faded away during the afternoon, murmuring constantly words of love and hope, the last intelligible being, "Love each other for my sake." As the Thanksgiving sun went down the spirit of the gentle, long-suffering Mary Archer joined the waiting ones above. William Archer truly loved his young wife, and sincerely mourned her loss. Much of his time was spent with his son in trying to comfort and divert the attention of the sorrowing boy from his great loss. Willie grew to love very dearly his father, hitherto almost a stranger to him. Mary's words were soon verified. Riches grew rapidly around him, and in less than two years he had filled her vacant place by another. With what an acute ear, jealous eye and aching heart he listened for every word of endearment, watched every action of love that his father bestowed on his new wife. Willie was not a boy to win the heart of a stranger. Retiring, silent and sad, but possessing a brave, grateful heart, he had to be known to be loved. The new mother did not care to take the trouble to win the love of her husband's child. Years rolled on. Bright, cheerful, happy boys and beautiful, loving girls grew round the father's heart, claiming and winning his love, until poor Willie was almost forgotten, or only remembered when in sight, and then always compared so unfavorably with the merry ones around him.