Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1846-09-24
select Tales.
The Mother and her Babe.
A LEGEND OF THE REVOLUTION
BY GEO. LIPPARD.

The angels of God look down from the sky
to witness the deep tenderness of a mothers
love. The angels of God look down to witness
that sight which angels love to sea mother
watching over her sleeping babe.
Yes, if even these awful ntelligences which
are but little above man, and yet next to God
circling there, deep after deep, far through the
homes of eternity, bent from the sky to witness
a scene of human bliss and wo that sight is the
deep agony of mothers love as she watches
DER her sleeping child,
The deep agony of mothers love? Yes
For in that moment when gazing upon the
child--smiling upon her as it sleeps--does not
deep agony seize the mQther's soul, as she
tries to picture the future life of her babel
whether that child will rise in honor and
60 down to death in glory, or whether the
dshonored life and unwept death will be its her
tage2
All, the sublmy of the heart is there, in
that mothers love, which even angels bent down
to look upon.
One hundred years ago, in far New Eng
land town. a mother, with her babe in her
arms, stole softly through the open doors of
a quaint old village church, and knelt beside
the altar
Yes, while the stiffness of the sabbath eve
ming gathered like calm from Heaven around
her,-while glimpse Of the green grave yard
came through the Enclosed windows, and the
last beam of the setting sun played over the
rustic steeple, that mother kuet alone, and
placed her sleeping boy upon the sacramental
altar.
The mothers face was not beautfu--care
had been too busy there; yet there was a beau
ty in that uplilted countenance in those up
raised eyes of dark deep blue, in that kneeng
form, with the clasped hands pressed against
the agitated bosom,-a beauty holier than
earth, like that of Mary, the Virgin Mother.
And why comes this mother here to this lone
ly church, at this twilight hour, to lay her babe
upon the altar and kneeI in silence there?
Listen to her prayer
She prays the Fathcr yonder, to guide the
boy through life, to make him man Of honor, a
disciple of the Lord.
While these falterlng accents fell from her
tongue, behold! There on the vacancy of the
twilight air, she beholds vision of that boy:
life, act crowding on act scene on scene, unit
her eyes burn in their sockets, and the thick
sweat stands in beads upon her brow
First, her pale face is stamped with fear
She beholds her boy, now grown to manhood
standing upon vessels deck, far out upon thu
deep waters, The waves heave around him
and meet above the mast, and yet the boy is firm
The red lightning from yon dark cloud, come
quiverng down the manmast, and yet his excel
does not pale, his breast does not shrink. Yes
while the stout sailors fall covering upon tn
deck, that boy stands firm, and laughs at tn
storm--as though his spirit to meet the ghtnin
in its coming, and grapple with the thunderbo
in its way.
This vision passes,
The mother, kneeling there, beside the sac
ramental altar, behoIds another scene of he
boys llfe-another aud another At last, wit
eyes swimming in tears Of Joy she beholds
scene, so glorious, drawn there upon the twiligI
ar-her boy grown to hardy manhood, ridin
amid embatted legions, with the victor's laurt
upon his brow-the praises Of a nation in h
ears-a scene so glorious, that her heart is file
to bursting, and that deep al thank thee, oh nj
GodP' falls tremulously from her lips.
The next scene, right after the scene of gil
ry--it is dark crushing horrible! The motht
starts appalled, to her fletcher shrek quivel
through the lonely church-she spreads fort