Summary

Portrait of Louisa May Alcott Louisa May Alcott Jack and Jill (Alcott) — Chapter XX. A Sweet Memory (1880)

Few would have thought that the death of a quiet lad of seventeen would have been so widely felt, so sincerely mourned; but virtue, like sunshine, works its own sweet miracles, and when it was known that never again would the bright face be seen in the village streets, the cheery voice heard, the loving heart felt in any of the little acts which so endeared Ed Devlin to those about him, it seemed as if young and old grieved alike for so much promise cut off in its spring-time.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Louisa May Alcott Louisa May Alcott Jack and Jill (Alcott) — Chapter XX. A Sweet Memory (1880)

I know I ought not to say it, but I don't see why God let him die," said Jack, with a quiver in his voice, for his loving heart could not help aching still.
"No, dear, we cannot see or know many things that grieve us very much, but we can trust that it is right, and try to believe that all is meant for our good. That is what faith means, and without it we are miserable.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Louisa May Alcott Louisa May Alcott Jack and Jill (Alcott) — Chapter XX. A Sweet Memory (1880)

It is often said that there should be no death or grief in children's stories. It is not wise to dwell on the dark and sad side of these things; but they have also a bright and lovely side, and since even the youngest, dearest, and most guarded child cannot escape some knowledge of the great mystery, is it not well to teach them in simple, cheerful ways that affection sweetens sorrow, and a lovely life can make death beautiful?
Source: Wikisource

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