Father never became better. He lived some years, always in the same state. He had hardly more sense than a baby, and did not seem to remember the past. I often said to him texts and easy hymns, but I never could tell if he understood. He passed away suddenly at last, in his sleep. Ah,—he was a sad wreck. Things might have been so different with him!
We three lived on long together in the little cottage, afterwards; and Asaph grew to be our comfort and stay. The change came only just in time to save our boy from being quite spoilt. But father's state was a sharp warning to him. He seemed to become more thoughtful from that Christmas—and no wonder.
THE END.
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