rate, and it is no matter." The mistake was reported by the victim himself.
And now changes gradually come to the household,—daughters marry—sons go out to battle with the world, and it is the "Old Home" no longer. The failure of Jane's health at length, following all these changes, produced a saddening effect upon her own and her sister's mind,—an indefinable longing for something they as yet possessed not. They began to realize that "The immortal mind craves objects that endure." Especially did these things weigh upon the mind of Mary, who felt the approaching gloom of a great sorrow, and turned almost unconsciously for strength to a higher power. For, it needed not even love's quick instincts to detect, in the wasting strength, the unnatural brightness of the eye, the hectic cheek and the hollow cough which had fastened upon her loved one, that they must part erewhile. Alas! what sure premonitions! In the early morning of December 7th, 1847, the dreaded messenger came, and in the glory and maturity of womanhood, the pure spirit of Jane C. Denver fled from earth, leaving behind her the stricken one of whose very existence she seemed an essential part. How she bore up under the weight of this affliction is best described in her own words to a friend who arrived just after the sad event. "She has left me," she said, "and I, too, should have died, but Jesus stood by me through all the fearful night!" This from
