Martinsburg gazette. [volume] (Martinsburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1833-1855, 1847-09-30

held with JOY those innocent faces, as they ran
and bounded in wild delight, fearless Of the
future, and careless Of the present hour
They were all my children, for had rejoiced
at their birth, and if il was ordained that the
Good Shepherd early called one OF the lambs
to his bosom, toaed not mournfplly, but sol.
EMMY at the departure. | knew it was far
better for those who slept thus peacefully, and
could not sorrow for them.
81 marked one, a fair, delicate girl, who of.
ten separated herself from her merry compan-
ions. She would leave their noisy play, and
stealing with her book and work, through the
dark old trees, would sit for hours in the shad.
ow Of the tower. Though she never came
without volume, such as one as just now
you were reading, the book was often neglec-
ted, and leaning her head upen her hand, she
would remain until the twilight tenderly yelled
her beautiful form wrapt in deep, still mu-
sing. knew that her thoughts were holy and
pure often Of Heaven, for she would raise
her eyes 10 the bending sky ,jeweled as it was in
the evening hour, and seem in prayer, though
her lips moved not, and the listening breezes
could not catch murmured word.
but the CIR, grew up. innocent as in her
childhood, yet with a roster flush upon her
cheeks and brighter lustre IN her dreamy
eye. did not see her so often then, bu,
when my voice on the bright Sabbath morn
ing called those who love the good Father to
come and thank him fol his wondrous mercy
and goodness, she was the first TO obey the
summons, and | watched the snowy drapery
! which she always wore, as it futtered BY the
dark foliage, or CLEANED in the glad sunshine
She did not come alone, for her grandsire evel
leaned upon her arm, and she guided his un.
certain steps, and listened earnestly to the
words of wisdom which he spoke. Then
marked that often another joined the group,
youth who had been her companion years
agone, when she was very child. Now they
did not stay as then, with arms entwined
ported the grandsire, and she walked beside
him. looking tmidly upon the ground; and il
by chance he spoke TO her, bright glow
would arise to her lips and forehead.
"Never did my voice ring Out for a merriel
bridal than on the NOM when they were uni
ted, before the altar of the very church. AL
the village rejoiced with them, for the gentle
girl was loved as a sister and daughter all
said that the youth TO whom she had plightet
her trolh was well worthy OF the jewel he lac
gained. The old praised. and the young ad
mired as the bridal party turned toward lhei
home, a simple vine shaded cottage, not &
| stones throw from where thou art lying
| They did not forget the God who had bestow
ed so much of happiness upon them, even il
the midst of pleasure, and often they would
come in the hush of twilight, and kneelng b,
the altar, give thanks for all the mercies they
had received.
Two years-long as the period may seen
10 youth-glides swiftly past when the hear
is not at rest Then once more chime float
ed from the belfry. 1t was al early dawn
when the mist was 'y.ng OF the mounisin'.
side, and the dew hid trembling in the fowe
bell, frighted by the first beams of the rising
\ day. A son had been given 10 them, a bright
healthful babe, with eyes blue as the mother
who clasped him to her breast, and dedicatet
him with his first breath to the parent whit
had watched over her orphaned youth, an,
had given this treasure TO her keeping.
That bright day faded, and even came
sadly upon the face Of nature. Deep ant
mournful was the tone which | flung upon
the passing wind and the fir trees Of the for
est sent back a moan from their swayina
branches, heavily swaying as if from very
sympathy. Life was that day given, bu
another had been recalled. The young moth
er's deep sleep was not broken even by tho
wailing voice Of her first born, for it was thu
repose of death.
"They laid her beside the very spot where
she had passed SO many hours; and then
knew it was the grave OF her parents which
she had so loved TO visit
1.-The son lived, and the fathers grief aba
ted when he saw the boy growing in the i'm
age of his mother; and when the child with
uncertain footsteps, had dared TO tread upon
the velvet grass, the father brought him to the
the church-yard, and clasping his little hand,
as he knelt beside him, taught the babe that he
had also a Father in Heaven.
Il have lain since that time almost by hei
side. for my pride was humbled when they
remove Inc from the station had so long oc
cupied. My voice has been hushed from thai
sorrowful night even till now, but am CON-
PEELED to speak 10 thee.
"Boy boy 1T is THY MOTHER of whom
have told thee! Two lives We're given ioI
thine thy mother who brought thee into the
world--thy Saviour who would give thee q
second birth-lhey have died that thou might
live; aud for so great a sacrifice how much
will be required OF thee! See to it tina; thou
art not found wanting when reckoning is re
quirsd OF thee"
Suddenly as it had been borne TO his ears
the voice became silent The boy started as
if from deep sleep, and put his hand to his
brow. The dew lay dampy upon 1.-THE
shades Of evening had crept over the church
ward and he could scarce discern the white
slab that marked the resting place of his moth
er. Itmay have been a dream-but when he
searched about him for the old bell, it was ly-
ing with its lip very near to the fragrant pill
low upon which he had reposed.
Thoughuully and slowly the boy went to-
ward his home, but though he told none not
even his father. what had Detailed him, the
story of the old bell was never forgotten, and
his future life was influenced by its remem-
brance.