I was not over fond of sewing,
but I thought it best to begin mine early.
So I collected a few squares of calico, and undertook to put them
together in my usual independent way, without asking direction.
I liked assorting those little figured bits of cotton cloth, for
they were scraps of gowns I had seen worn, and they reminded me
of the persons who wore them. One fragment, in particular, was
like a picture to me. It was a delicate pink and brown sea-moss
pattern, on a white ground, a piece of a dress belonging to my
married sister, who was to me bride and angel in One. I always
saw her face before me when I unfolded this scrap,--a face with
an expression truly heavenly in its loveliness. Heaven claimed
her before my childhood was ended. Her beautiful form was laid to
rest in mid-ocean, too deep to be pillowed among the soft sea-
mosses. But she lived long enough to make a heaven of my child-
hood whenever she came home.
One of the sweetest of our familiar hymns I always think of as
belonging to her, and as a still unbroken bond between her spirit
and mine.
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