THE GIRL’S STORY BOOK. . 47

 

be buried where she was. The
wish that James had was not
right, but it was a very natural
one; and when I was a child,
I, too, have prayed that God
would let me die with my mo-
ther, because I loved her so
well.

It was in the autumn, after
the frosts had begun to tinge
the forest trees with so many
beautiful colors, that James