Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1848-01-28

teTies, eeme1 SO lIko MS lIicnuS, ne could
not believe them capable OF evil designs. If
they had affected to despise his principles,
or fidiculo his mother, he would have left
them: but they understood him too well for
that, and hired him by hypocricy and flatte-
nv. They persuaded him to venture more
and more, till in one rash moment he took a
SIM of money from a friend, then he did not
dare TO see his mother, and being frightened
at his guilt, he left his home with one OF his
companions, without even bidding her fare
well, That was a fearful blow for the heart
stricken widow, and from that day she knew
no happiness. She could not reproach her
self for having neglected him, for if ever a
mother rightly trained a child, that was the
widow Mellan; but her conscience smote her
for such blind idolatry of a human being, and
she almost felt it just punishment. She
did not censure him, for now she could trace
the gradations of guilt, from the first light
wandering, to the last fatal act, and she nj
tied and torgave him.
But oh! that desolate mothers agony -
He had been her all, and now she was alone
in the world, with but the orphan niece, who
became a child to her when her W had for
ssken her. But to have reared him for guilt
and shame 1t was fearful-that mothers
agony; and in her agony she cried, 'my
Godi why hast thou torsaken mel" But
she was not all forsaken. Tears washed a.
wav the healthy hue from her cheek, and
wrinkles gathered on her brow, and every
year her form gradually stopped, but after
the first grief storm had passed, she bore in
her mind how strong, and pure, and lasting
as eternity is a mothers influence. Could
the holy spell which had guarded him in ear
w youth lose its magic now? Must it be,
that her self sacrificing labor for him was to
have no need this side of the grave? He
would come back; she could not believe that
her PRAYERS and her afft ction had been like a
breath upon the water and acknowledging
the power that had chastised her weakness,
she bowed her head in silent suffering, and
found in this her consolation.
People wondered how the widow, who had
lived through so many trials could bear this,
but they knew not the enduring hope within,
and strength gained through sorrow, as she
knelt by the graves of her household, and
asked to live for one erring child. To cheer
others in affection, and TO minister to the
needy, became the greatest relief TO her wea-
nv life. She had likewise a sad pleasure in
watching the flowers Ned had planted, and
training over the door the fragrant honey
suckle he had loved. In the dreary winter
she cherished one beautiful rose-bush he had
brought her the very day he went away. A
little slip it was then, but from year to year
it grew and put forth blossoms and curtained
the window with its foliage, but the boy Cor
whose sake she tended it did not come
One letter came to the friend he had wrong
ed, with the sum of money he had taken, and
=. .l., aoo,oo e. bic rontbor Uth,t x,ac
a blessing for her, but when years passed a.
way, and she learned no more OF him, the
fearful conjecture had came home to her heart
that he might be dead. And now sickness
came upon her, and with this new anxiety
she could not bear up as before; and when
October was putting on its fearful garb for
the death of her flowers. there was i~ncreas-
ing gloom in the widows cottage, and the
kind friends said that she would never see the
budding of another spring time.
One eve ing when they had left her to the
care of her faithful Fanny, remarking, as they
went, how bright and unusually cheerful the
invalid seemed, she begged to be quite alone
and silently reviewing all her life's trials, SHE
held communion with her lost child, asked
once more in anguish that she might see hin
again. Just then a shadow fell where the
moonbeam had fickered over her pillow, and
with intense watchfulness she listened 10 Z
strange step, and then heard in a voice ofbit
ter agony exclaim, sis it too late ?"
The next moment, by her bedside, bowed
a pallid, but oh, how familiar face, and the
bloodless lips that pressed her thin, white
hand, faltered, another! oh, mother, forgive
me!'
She twined her fingers about his hands ant
c%lasping them in hers, lifted up a voice o
thanksgiving.
"Lay your hand upon my head, and bles
me as you used to do, mother!"
mot in guilt, my son. Look up, and tel
your mother that you have repented; tell m,
all, Edward, my beloved, that | may die il
peace"
"You must not die !" gasped tho youth.
"Heaven's will be done!' f~ervently ex
t claimed she. "No, | do not believe you ar
!. guilty now!" for Just then through the oper
window streamed the silvery moonlight fnl
, upon the fine face before her, and gave it
= heavenly radience; there was no trace ofguiI
[ upon that open brow, nor in the calm smile
nor in the truthful glance of the eyes bent o.
her. ''There is no guilt now, my child.
: do forgive the past, and may God loreve
1 bless you! Now, Edward, | must know all.
Trustfully and humbly, Edard Mella
k~neeling by her side, confessed his first tenn
v %tation, his wanderings, his remorse, his TT
ais. The strong man wept like an infant
o sob, mother, it was dreadful suffering
= and how | longed TO come to you, for yc
wouldn't have d~espised me, but they woul
have scorned me, and you too for my sin
v and | couldn't bear that. Butt did not sin
q lower; those companions had no more pow,
n over me; and through all those long year
mother, | felt that you were bending ov
ID me. | gained wealth, in foreign lands, gal
ed it honestly, but | couldn't bring wealth
atone for the past. Oh, | couldn't come the
(, but now they love your son, and honor hi
IS as one who had never fallen, and Heav,
will grant that | may preach the doctrines
r, the Christian faith and bear record of a mot
er's influence. You do not cast me of, mot
s. err"
Id "Never, never, my son !" exclaimed 4
ne widow with unwonted energy, and nv Ii