Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1848-05-25

and dimmed forever its early loyeliness unholy
pleasures might have stolen away the breath of
its purity, and fiery passions drank up the dew
of its innocence and truth. But now, there
CLOVIS within its heart the bloom of Immortality
it ever sendeth up the incense of praise, and
there ever falleth upon it baptismal dews, which
are morning exhalations from "the river of life. "
The exquisite and mournful tenderness which
succeeds to mothers bereavement, is one OF
the hottest and most beautiful things out of
heaven. The maternal heart, though broken and
desolate, is not closed against the sorrowing and
suffering of Others Then it is that woman be-
comes blessing and support to the unfortunate;
then, pressing against her acerated breast, like
holy cross, the divine love of Christ, her sym
pathy goes forth boundlessy to all the afflicted
and all childhood becomes to her as sacred as in
the hour when, upon the young Jewish brows,
upturned in childish wonder, the beautiful bene-
diction of the Savior fell like an invisible bap-
tism.
The writer of this once witnessed touching
incident, which will not soon pass from her re-
memberance. She was visiting Laurel Hill
Cemetery, one dark and chilly day, early in the
winter. While she stood beside the beautiful
of child, Alfred Theodore Miller young and
lovely woman, in deep mourning, came up, and
pausing, looked long upon that fair and sleeping
figure, and wept, as perhaps she had but lately
wept for her own dear babe. 1t was bitter cold
day for the season; no birds sang in the bare
branches, through which sighed the wild winds
of December not one floral watcher over the
dead had survived the auumnal frosts light
snow was beginning to fall, and there was ice on
the petals of the sculptured lily, which lay brok-
EN- by the side of the slumbering infant Sud-
denly there came a sharp blast sweeping before
it cloud of snow-hakes and withered leaves
With conyulsive shudder and a low cry of pity
ing anguish, the weeping stranger caught the
warm shawl from her own shoulders, and flung
it over the railing and on to the sculptured
child
o, how blessed must have been to her the
thought which succeeded, shedding genial glow
through her chilled heart and trembling frame,
that the infant spirit dwelt where no pain and
cold might come folded like alamb in the arms,
carried tenderly in the bosom of the Good
Shepherd"
o, mother, when the soul-light fades from the
eye, when the death-dew settles on the brow of
thy babe, listen to the divine voice which comes
to thy spirit, Whispering 1T is well with the
child" In the harsh cup of thy sorrow, thou
drinkest the pearl of priceless joy. Strew
with violets thine infants cofin-pillow; place
rose-buds in its little hands; plant many flowers
upon its grave, for they are faint types of those
unfading flowers which shall spring along its
path, and crown its brow with immortal beauty,
in the Paradise of God. And 90 thou often to
that grave at eventide, and sing above it low
sweet hymns of praise; and it may be, that as
thy song floats upward, thy child may hear the
loved voice in the pauses of celestial music, and
may descend to thee-its angel presence be
around thee silent and pure as the starlight !
1t may then return, though invisibly, to thy fond
arms, and hide its cherub face in thy BOSOM
Then shall the breath of its love penetrate to thy
heart, filling it with tenderness and joy, and
"the pc ace of God, which passeth all under
standing"