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About sundown we were alone together in Mother's room, he lay on the bed, and I sat beside him with his hand clasped in mine, and laid my head beside his on the pillows. I spoke of religion, how I introduced it I do not remember, but the earnestness with which he instantly took up this subject surprised me. "O Emma!" he said, "when I get well, I shall be a changed boy, I shall be a better boy and am going to lead a different live -- world can't satisfy, it is not worth living for -- we feel it when we come to a sick-bed -- this world is nothing! O I feel it!"

Religion he also said was the only thing worth living for the only thing that could give real and lasting comfort. The depth of feeling with which he spoke the earnestness of his manner overcameme at once with surprise and thankfulness. I felt as if I could say nothing in reply -- that the power of religion, of love and truth in his soul was too great to be affected by anything that I could say I did however make a few remarks after a pause -- I think I hear now his earnest "O yes!", when I concluded in tones that seemed to come from his very soul. O 'twas a solemn scene - a solemn time! one of the sweetest and dearest that life to me has yet presented. Fearing to weary him I did not long continue the conversation, thinking to renew it again when he was better; but alas it was the last!

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