a green curtain tacked over the frame of the window

The result was suggestive in the very atmosphere, which had a singular effect upon the senses. The room, newly-whitewashed, was darkened by a green curtain tacked over the frame of the window. Standing near the window were two wooden-stools and a little table, upon which burned the faint light of a small taper, arranged in a cup of oil, and shedding its feeble flickers on the evidences of a sick-chamber. There, on a little, narrow cot, lay the death-like form of his once joyous companion, with the old nurse sitting beside him, watching his last pulsation. Her arm encircled his head, while his raven locks curled over his forehead, and shadowed the beauty of innocence even in death. "Is he there? is he there?" inquired Manuel in a low tone. At the same time a low, gurgling noise sounded in his ears. The nurse started to her feet as if to inquire for what he came. "He is my companion-my companion," said Manuel. It was enough. The woman recognised the object of the little sufferer's anxiety. "Ah! it is Manuel. How often he has called that name for the last week!" said she. He ran to the bedside and grasped his little fleshless hand as it lay upon the white sheet, bathing his cold brow with kisses of grief. Life was gone-the spirit had winged its way to the God who gave it. Thus closed the life of poor Tommy Ward. He died as one resting in a calm sleep, far from the boisterous sound of the ocean's tempest, with God's love to shield his spirit in another and brighter world. Conclusion IN a preceding chapter, we left the poor boy on the plantation of Colonel Whaley, affected by a pulmonary disease, the seeds of which were planted on the night he was confined in the guard-house, and the signs of gradual decay evinced their symptoms.