, 1840-12-12
WHOLE NUMBER 373.

tered my heart with a solemn strength. l
raised my head from its beautiful r~esting-place,
and gazed awe-strickcn upon the face OF my
mother. Oh, how an hour had changed IL.
The crimson flush was quenched on her
cheeks, a moisture lay upon her forehead,
md the grey, mysterious shadows Of death
we're stealing over each thin feature, yet her
lips still moved and her deep eyes were bent
on me, surcharged with spiritual brightness,
as if they would have left one oftheir vivid.
uneorthly rays, as the seal Of her death-bed
covenant. Slowly as the sunbeam's pale at
night fall from the leaves of flower, went
out the starlight fire of those eyes:a mist
came over them, softly rs the dews OF night
fall upon that flower, and she was dead
Even then, | knew not the meaning Of the
solemn change ! had witnessed, but when
they bore me forth from my mothers DEATH
bed. my heart was filled with fear and mis-
giving.
All were overwhelmed with the weight Of
their own sorrow, and | was permitted to
wander around my desolated home unchecked
and forgotten. stood wondering by as they
shrouded my mother, and smoothed the long
hair over her pale forehead. Silently 1
watched them spread The winding sheet, and
fold those small pale hands over her bosom,
but when they closed the blinds, and went
forth, my little heart swelIed with a sense of
unkinLness in shutting out the sunshine, and
the sweet summer air which had so often cali
led Il smile to her pale lips, when it came on
her bed, fragrant from the rose thickets and
the white clover field, which lay beneath
the windows they had so cruelty darkened.
The gloom of that death-chamber made me
very sorrowiul, but | went To bed, turned
down the linen, and laid my hand caressing-
" on the pale face which lay so white and
motionleSS in the dim light. II was cold as
ice. | drew back alirightened, and stealing
from the room, sat down alone, wondering
and full of dread.
Tney buried her beneath a lofty tree
on the high bank ola river. A waterfall
raises its eternal anthem near it, and the sun
set filings its last golden shadows among tho
long grass that shelters her. remember it
all the grave with It's newly broken sod
the coffin placed on the brink. The clergy
man, with his black surplics sweeping the
earth, and the cOncourSs-aSRelghbours gath
cred round the grave, eaciflltring his hat re-
~verently as the solemn hymn sweiled on the
air. answered by the lofty anthem surgIns
up from the waterfall, and the breeze rustling
through the dense bouGhs of that gloomy tree.
Then came the grating of the coffin as It
was lowered into It's narrow bed, the dull,
hollow sound of falling earth and those most
solemn words OF dust to dust. and ashes TO
ashes.r With mournful disiinctness were
all these things impressed on my youngmInd,
but my mothers last prayer is written moro
forciblv than all, in characters that but deep
en- with maturity. II has fingered about my
heart Il blessing and a safeguard, pervadingit
with a music that cannot die. Many times,
when the hcedlessneSs of youth would have
led me into error, has that sweet voice. now
hushed for ever, ntermingled with my
thoughts. and, like the rosy link OF q iaIry
] cham. drawn me from my purpose. UT,
when my brow has been wreathed with flow
ers for the festival, when my cheek has been
flushed, and my eyes have sparkled with an
ticipated pleasure, have | caught the retlec-
ton of those ewes In the mirror, and tho
thought of the look which rested upon me
when mother ~died--that broken suplicatlon
10 Heaven has come back to my memory
the clustering roses have been torn from nv
head; sad and gentle memories have drank
the unnatural glow from my cheeks, and my
4 lIOU1IllS DdNt UcCu ! puIh w w hoSe
parent, and from her up to the Heaven she
inhabits. The festival and all its attractions,
have been lost in gentle reflections, and |
have beeh adelivered from temptation."-
Again, when the sparkling wine-cup has al
most bathed my lips, amid merriment and
smiles and music, has the last sad prayer of
INV mother seemed To mingle with its ruby
contents, and | have put away the goblet that
| might not be led into temptation" When
nv hand has rested in that of the dishonora-
Bile. and trembied to the touch of him who
SAYS in his heart there is no God as that voice
seemed To flow with his Turing accents, |
have listened to it, and fed as from the ser
pent of my native forests.
Again and again, when the throbbIngs OF
ambition have almost filled my sonl, and the
praises o: my fellow men have become 4
precious incense. the still small voice of my
mothers PRAYER has trembled over each heart
string. and kindled it to a more healthy mu-
sic in infancy, youth and womanhood, that
PRAYER has been to me I holy remembrance
a sweet thought full of melody not the less
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