EPILOGUE 



" Where does the true Shekinah shine ? 

 Not far away. That Love doth brood 

 O'er lives the lowliest and most rude. 

 An angel's song, a bird-note clear, 

 Rise to the same all-listening ear." 

 (By Permission.) MRS. MARY JOHNSON. 



THAT little form was laid in her snow- 

 white basket, whiter with interwoven 

 flowers. Too beautiful, too dear, she 

 seemed, to pass from sight, as they lowered 

 her, on her bed of blossoms, by the long white 

 ribbons to the pretty cedar house her dear 

 doctor had builded with his own hands. Be- 

 cause she loved Sportum's house so well, 

 he had builded it just like it, for he could 

 not bear to see that lovely form laid in the 

 common earth. 



That little grave was lined with soft green 

 ferns, and the twenty-four pitying guests of 

 Island Haven gathered around, and each 

 cast a mist-white amaranthus flower upon 

 that fawn-like sleeper; one there was who 



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