“'There is no other way for him to do,' said Peter; 'that is true.'
“Old Ham was sitting off to one side with little Mary Anderson on his lap. The child had been listening to what was said about her father. She spoke to Uncle Ham, as she, with the rest of the family, had learned to call him, and asked:
“'When is papa coming home? Is he well? Is mamma well? How will they get home?' and many other questions.
“Ham said, 'I doesn't know. Hopes he git heah all right.'
“The old fellow seemed rather serious, and finally he asked Aunt Sarah 'If dat letta diin't say nuffln 'bout my ole woman Marfa.'
“'Oh, yes,' said my wife. 'Uncle Ham, you must pardon me; I was so engaged talking to Peter and Uncle Daniel about our sons that I really neglected to tell you. I will get the letter and read you what Mary says about your wife.'
“She took the letter from her pocket and read to Uncle Ham that Martha was well and so kind to Col. Tom, calling him her boy and saying 'the good Laud' had saved him for some good purpose, and sent her love to her 'dear ole Ham.'
“Ham broke into a laugh and said: 'Datfs it; dat's good. I knowed she say jes' like dat. I tell you, Aunt Marfa, she be all right. She know something I tell you she do.'
“He then entered into a disquisition on Aunt Martha to little Mary, until she seemed to feel as much interested in Aunt Martha as did Uncle Ham.
“While we were enjoying the rest of the evening in conversation we heard a noise coming from the children's bedroom. Jennie at once left us and proceeded to the room and found little Sarah Lyon—David's youngest child, then four years old—very sick with a violent attack of croup. We at once sent for a physician. He came, examined her and pronounced her very ill. He very soon gave her relief, that proved to be only temporary. We watched her during the night. In the morning she had a violent fever, and seemed to be very flighty. Everything was done for the blessed child, but all in vain. That afternoon she passed away. This was another stroke to our whole family. Jennie, her mother, was nearly frantic. This was the first misfortune of any sort that had happened in David's family. We were all cast down in grief, as we loved little Sarah. She had been named for my wife, who had made the child a special pet. Little Mary and Jennie were almost heartbroken by her death. They cried continually, and could not be pacified for several days. I telegraphed her father, but it seems my dispatch, for some unknown reason, was not delivered for three days. When it was he was almost crazed by the unwelcome news. It was too late, however, for him to come home. This seemed to sadden him. He was never himself any more during his life. Little Sarah lies in the cemetery at Allentown.”