THE POOR WIDOWER.
When poor Mary died, her husband was wild with grief, for she was young, and tender, and good, and he looked forward to many years of happy life. He would not hear the voice of pity, nor listen to the words of comfort. At first, his friends did not blame his grief, for they knew how much he had lost; but when, against reason, and against duty, he would indulge his regrets, they ceased to pity, and began to reprove. This made him worse, till at last he sank under the struggle of his feelings, and became very, very ill. His was a sickness no doctors could cure, no nurse assuage; yet he had a good nurse, and a good doctor, who did all they could for him. But what can be done for one, who would take no advice, and profit by no kindness? The mind and the body depend much on each other; when the one droops, the other soon sinks. The senses of the mourner became weak and clouded, and his reason seemed shaken. He had one child, but he would never see her; he said, the sight of her would kill him, she was so like her dear mother. Thus he shut himself out from all the comforts yet left him, and then said he had no comforts. This was all very weak, and very wicked.
One morning, when his doctor was sitting with him, trying, in vain, to reason him out of his folly, and his nurse was coaxing him to swallow some broth, his little girl, by chance passed by the room. The door was a little open, so she came in, and took the bason of broth from the table, and, holding it to her father, she lisped the words she heard the nurse saying. "Do take some, pray do, for the sake of your poor child." She did not know who he was, but she saw he was pale and weak, and she knew the nurse well, and she thought to please and help nurse. The sick man started at hearing the soft low voice of the little creature, and the tears came into his eyes, as he looked upon her tiny figure and smiling face. He caught her in his arms and kissed her, and felt all the folly of which he had been guilty, in shutting his eyes to the comfort his Mary had left him, in not having done his duty to the child given to him. He soon began to revive, and to repent of his past weakness. He soon felt that all blessings were not lost in one; that all duty is not comprised in that of mourning for the dead.