I wish to relate to you a very affecting story about a good girl who
died when she was thirteen years old. She was an interesting young girl,
and possessed great intellectual powers. She was also very fond of the
works of nature, especially of flowers, and would often say, "How good
God is to make these beautiful flowers for us to enjoy." Soon it was
very evident to her friends that disease was preying on her delicate
constitution. She bore all her sickness with calm submission, and when
she died she appeared to all who knew her to be prepared for heaven.
While she was sick, her parents did every thing to make her comfortable
and happy. They had a dog which Lizzy set a great deal by, and with him
she used to play in the house and in the garden. When Lizzy was so sick
that she could not play with him, he would come and lay himself down at
her bed side, and appeared to be very sad on her account. When she died
and was buried, the dog followed with the parents in the funeral, to the
grave yard where Lizzy was laid away. One day, about five months
afterwards, I went with her father to see the grave of Lizzy. As we went
into the grave yard, we walked slowly along, reading the names of
persons buried there, while the dog followed us. We soon missed the dog,
supposing he had wandered into some other part of the cemetery. But when
we came within a few yards of Lizzy's grave we saw him sitting at its
head, leaning against the stone which was erected in memory of the
lovely daughter. It was a very affecting scene--the attachment of the
dog, as well as the power of his memory. Dogs are faithful creatures,
and we can never bear to see them abused. Be kind to them and they will
be kind to you.