She said it jest as earnest and serene as I ever heard any thing said; and there was a look in her eyes some as there wuz when she come home from her aunt Mary's, and told me “she almost wished her aunt had died while she was there, because she felt that her mother would be the angel sent from heaven to convey her aunt's soul home—and she could have seen her.”
There was that same sort of deep, soulful, sad, and yet happy look to her eyes, as she repeated,—
“She has been here! I was lying here, aunt Samantha, reading 'The Celestial Country,' not thinking of any thing but my book, when suddenly I felt something fanning my forehead, like a wing passing gently over my face. And then something said to me just as plain as I am speaking to you, only, instead of being spoken aloud, it was said to my soul,—
“'You have wanted to see your mother: she is here with you.'
“And I dropped my book, and sprung up, and stood trembling, and reached out my hands, and cried,—“'Mother! mother! where are you? Oh! how I have wanted you, mother!'
“And then that same voice said to my heart again,—
“'God will take care of the boy.'
“And as I stood there trembling, the room seemed full. You know how you would feel if your eyes were shut, and you were placed in a room full of people. You would know they were there—you would feel their presence, though you couldn't see them. You know what the Bible says,—'Seeing we are encompassed about by so great a cloud of witnesses.' That word just describes what I felt. There seemed to be all about me, a great cloud of people. And I put my arms out, and made a rush through them, as you would through a dense crowd, and said again,—
“'Mother! mother! where are you? Speak to me again.'
“And then, suddenly, there seemed to be a stir, a movement in the room, something I was conscious of with some finer, more vivid sense than hearing. It seemed to be a great crowd moving, receding. And farther off, but clear, these words came to me again, sweet and solemn,—