The Middlebury people's press. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1841-1843, 1841-11-30

/ was very young, scarcely beyond the
verge of infancy, the last and most help
less of three little girls, who were gathered
around my poor mothers death-bed. When
look on the chain of my varied existence
that wool of gold and iron woven so strangely
together-the remembrance of that young be-
ing who persisted so early and so gently from
the bosom Of her family, forms the first sad
link which ever gives forth thrill of funeral
music when my heart turns TO it-musc
which becomes more deep toned and solemn
as that chain is strengthened by thought and
bound together by the events of successive
years. The first human being that | can re-
member, was my invalid mother, moving Ian
guidly about her home, with the paleness of
disease sitting on her beautiful features, and
a deep crimson spot burning with painful
brightness in either cheek. | remember that
her step became unsteady and her voice faint
er and more gentle. day by day, till at last she
sunk TO her bed, and We were called upon to
witness her spirit 60 forth TO the presence of
Jehovah. They took me to her couch, and
told me 10 look upon my mother before she
died. Their words had no meaning to me
then, but the whisper in which they were spo-
ken thrilled painfully through my infant heart,
and felt that something very terrible was
about to happen. Pale, troubled faces we're
around that -piow-stcrn men, with sad
! heavy eyes-women overwhelmed with tears
! and sympathy, and children that huddled TO-
gether shuddering aid weeping, they knew
not wherefore. Filled with wonder and awe,
crept TO my mother, and burying my face in
| the mass of rich Blown hair that floated over
her pillow, heavy with the damp of death, but
! still lustrous in spite of disease, trcmbled and
sobbed without knowing why, save that all
around me was full of grief and lamentation.
She murmured. and placed her pale hand on
my head. My little heart swelled, but lay
motionless and filled with awe. Her lips mo-
we'd, and voice tremulous and very low came
! family over them. Those words, broken and
sweet as they were, left the first dear impress
sion that ever remained on my memory-'Lcad
her from evil This was my mothers last
prayer! in that imperfect sentence her gentle
voice went out forever. Young as was, that
prayer had entered my heart with a solemn
! strength. | raised my head from its beautiful
resting place, and gazed awe-stricken upon
the face of my mother. Oh, how an hour had
changed it The crimson flush was quench-
ed on her cheeks, moisture lay upon her fore
| head, and the grey, mysterious shadows of
death were stealing over each thin feature;
yet her lips still moved, and her deep blue eyes
were bent on me, surcharged with spiritual
brightness, as if they would have left one of
their vivid, unearthly rays, as the seal of her
death-bed covenant Slowly as the sunbeams
pale at nightfall from the leaves of flower,
went out the star-like fire of those eyes a
mist came oyer them, softly as 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 nv mothers death-bed,
my heart was filled with fear and misgiving.
All were overwhelmed with the weight of
their own sorrow, and was permitted to wan
der 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 watch.
ed 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 swelled with sense of unkipd-