The gates ajar. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.

The Gates Ajar. 24.3
talks, when, turning a leaf in her little Bible,
she pointed out to me the words:"It is expedient for you that I go away;
for, if I go not away, the Comforter will not
come."
It was one spring-like night, — the twentyninth of March.
She had been in less pain, and had chatted
and laughed more with us than for many a
day. She begged that Faith might stay till
dark, and might bring her Noah's ark and
play down upon the foot of the bed where she
could see her. I sat in the rocking-chair with
my face to the window. We did not light the
lamps.
The night came on slowly. Showery clouds
flitted by, but there was a blaze of golden
color behind them. It broke through and
scattered them; it burned them and melted
them; it shot great pink and purple jets up to
the zenith; it fell and lay in amber mist upon
the hills. A soft wind swept by, and darted
now and then into the glow, and shifted it
about, color away from color, and back again.
"See, Faith!" she said softly; "put down
the little camel a minute, and look!" and
vded after, but neither to the child nor to me,