114 ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTH SEAS 
Ruth suffered less than her sisters, but she seemed to be 
slowly sinking. Each day, in the intervals when they were 
free from pain, the parents had worship with the children, 
and sought to lead them to realize that perhaps Jesus wanted 
to give them rest from the suffering of this world. One day 
Connie expressed herself as being assured that Jesus had 
forgiven all her sins, and indicated to her father that she 
was quite ready to meet her Saviour. From her the severe 
pain had now gone, and she was able to talk cheerfully to 
Willie in the next room. Willie was beginning to recover. 
About this time a little bird with a crimson head flew in 
at the open window of the room where Connie lay. It flut- 
tered in mid-air above the bed, twittering the while, as if 
it were seeking to convey a message to the sick child. The 
children were all delighted, and Willie called out, ““What is 
it standing on?” Connie replied in bright tones, “It is stand- 
ing on nothing.” 
Next morning the parents clearly saw that the end was 
near. Anxiously they asked their dying child, “Are you 
still trusting in Jesus?” but she could not reply. “If you 
are, move your hand,” her father suggested. At once the 
little hand was lifted, and held for a brief moment above 
the pillow. Then it dropped back, and after a few hurried 
breathings her life was gone. The stricken parents stood 
together by the bedside, and thanked God that though He 
had been pleased to take her from them, their child was safe 
in her Saviour’s love. Together they laid her in a little plot 
in the garden. There in the moonlight they often came to 
the spot where their first-born was laid, fearing that before 
long there would be another grave, perhaps two. 
During the last few days, Madgie, who had suffered so 
terribly, lay free from pain. One day her mother observed 
that she was unusually thoughtful, so asked her of what she 
was thinking. The child replied, “I am thinking about Jesus 
Christ, who died on the cross to wash away my sins.” Again 
the little messenger bird flew in at the window, hung twit- 
