I see the angels now.

It was Thursday, 9 May. 

Reverend A. A. Miner was called to the house very near his own at about half-past eleven in the forenoon. 

Mr and Mrs Norris were in a flood of tears. 

Mrs N. exclaimed, as he entered—

Our hearts are breaking!

It was manifest that their only remaining child, Julia, could survive but an hour or two. 

The truth had just been opened to them. 

The Doctor had said—

There is no hope. 

The quick ear of their bright little girl, just turned eleven years, had heard it. 

Did you mean me? she said. 

I have a very sick patient at the Highlands, said the doctor, who may not recover. 

Mature beyond her years, Julia comprehended it. 

I think you mean me, she said. 

Would you feel badly if you thought you should not recover? asked her mother. 

Oh! no! replied Julia, for I should then see little Henry (a brother who had died three years before). 

I have always wanted very much to see him.

The Reverend had come, meantime, at her request. 

Turning to him, Julia said—

Thank you for coming. 

After a little, Julia's thoughts, turning again to the meeting of Henry, she added—

And I shall see Cousin Maria Vose and Grandma Avery, and a great many I cannot now think of. 

The Saviour, too, was in her thoughts.

If you do see Henry, said her mother, will you tell me?

Yes, I will tell you, she replied. 

I want you to lay me at Forest Hills beside Henry, and put just such a little monument over me as there is over him. 

I  always thought that was lovely.

We shall come out there often, added the mother, and bring flowers to lay on your grave.

For both? suddenly responded the little girl. 

Turning to her mother, she said—

Do not cry—it will be but a little while before Henry and I will both come for you.

The minutes wore on. 

Her suffering was great. 

She threw herself from side to side, and could not rest.

Presently, she said—

I see a little boat coming toward the shore—I guess I shall go now.

Do you see Henry? eagerly inquired her mother.

No, I do not see him, she replied. 

A few minutes elapsed, when she exclaimed—

Now, I see him in the middle of the boat. 

He has got to the shore. 

I shall go now. 

Goodbye, and calling father, mother, grandmother, uncle, pastor, and other friends in the room, she gave everyone a parting kiss.

Reverend Miner had all this time watched her steadily, sometimes holding her hands, sometimes her head, listening to these choice sayings, to which she added, a few minutes later—

I see the angels now. 

At twenty minutes to one, she breathed her last. 

Through all that hour, not a single anxious look upon her face, nor one incoherent word. 

Such was the last hour of Julia Avery Norris