Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1848-06-02
MISCELLANEOUS.
From The Union Mogdsine.
The Power of Love.
nv L. MARIA CHILD.

the rear Of Friend Goodman's house. And
there, by a mound of rocks that dipped their
messy feet in the rivulet, Friend Goodman
walked slowly, watching for his little daugh-
ter, who had been spending the day with
some children in the Reighborhood. Present.
Iy, the small maiden came jumping along,
with her bonnet thrown back, and the edges
OF her soft brown ringlets luminous in the
rays Of the setting sun. Those pretty curls
were not Quakerly but Nature, who pays
no more attention to the regulations OF Elders,
than she does TO the edicts Of Bishops, would
have it so. At the slightest breath of mois-
ture, the silky hair rolled itself into spirals,
and clustered around her pure white forehead,
as if it loved the nesting place. Jumping,
likewise, was not a Qnakerly proceeding
But little Alice, usually staid and demure,
in imitation of those around her, had met
with a new companion, whose temperament
was more ruercurial than her own, and she
was yielding TO its magnetic influence.
Camille Campbell, a boy of six years, was
the grandson of an Italian lady, who had
married an Irish absentee, resident in Flo
renee. Her descendants had lately come TO
Ireland, and taken possession of estates in
the neighborhood of Friend Goodman, where
little Camillo's foreign complexion, lively
temperament, and graceful, broken language,
rendered him an object Of great interest,
especially among the children. He it was
with whom little Alice was skipping through
the green lane, bright and free as the wind
and sunshine that played among her curls.
As the sober father watched their innocent
gambols, he felt his own pulses quicken, and
his motions Involuntary became more rapid
and elastic than usual. The little girl came
nesting up to his side, and rubbed her head
- IL, -, lib q, ,,tt,l tittAH ra,p lilo /
peeped roguishly from behind the messy
rocks, kissed his hand to her, and ran of,
hopping first on one foot, and then on the
other.
"Dost thou like that little boy " inquired
Friend Goodman, as he stopped to kiss his
darling.
YES, Camillo's a pretty boy, like him."
she replied. Then with a skip and a bound,
which showed that the electric fluid was
still leaping in her veins, she added, Hes
a funny boy too; he swears yOu all the
time"
The simple child, being always accus-
toned to hear thee and thou, verify thought
you was a p%rofane word. Her father did
what was very unusual with him +; he laugh
ed outright, as he replied, "What d strange
boy is that!"
"He asked me to come down TO the rock
and play, tomorrow. May | go, after schoolF -
she asked.
1--WE will see what mother says" he re-
piled. But where didst thou meet Ca
millol"
ale came to play with us in the lane,
and Deborah and John and | went into his
garden 10 see the birds. Oh, he has got
such pretty birds! There's a nice little
meeting house in the garden; and there's a
woman standing there with a baby. Ca
milo calls her my donny. tie says we
mustn't play in there. why not' VINO Is
my donny?" .
1.-THE people in Italy, where Camille used
to live, cali the mother of Christ, Madonna"
replied her father.
Sand who is Christi" she asked.
"IIe was a holy man, who lived a great
many years ago. | read to thee one day
about his taking little children in his arms
and blessing them"
~ guess he loved little children almost
as well as thou said Alice. "But what
do they put his mother in that little meeting
house Tor !"
Not deeming it wise to puzzle her busy
little brain with theological explanations,
Friend Goodman called her attention TO a
small dog, whose curly white hair soon dis
placed the Madonna, and even Camille, In
her thoughts. But the new neighbor, and
The conservatory peopled with birds, and the
little chapel in the garden, made a strong
impression on her mind. She was always
talking of them, and in after years they re-
manned by far the most vivid picture IN The
gallery of childish recollections. Nearly
every day she and Camille met at the messy
rock, where they planted flowers, and buried
flies in cloveI-leaves, and launched little
l1,t, - ,ka atraapD Whap thew StrOllp1
towards the conservatory, the old gardener
was always glad to admit them. Flowerlng
shrubs and gaudy parrots, so bright in the
warm sunshine, formed such a cheerful con-
trast to her own unadorned home, that little
Alice was never weary with gazing and
wondering. Blu. from all the brilliant things,
she chose two Java Sparrows for her especial
favoriteS. The old gardener told her they
were Quaker birds, because their feathers
were all of such a soft, quiet color. Bright
little Camille caught up the idea, and said,
81 know what for you so much do like
them; Quaker lady-birds they be-"
'And she's a Quaker lady-bird too" said
the old gardener, smiling, as he patted her
on the head " she's a nice little lady-blrd."
Always, after that, when Alice entered the
conservatory, the parrot laughed and scream
ed, "Lady.bird !"
Near the.doer were two inches party con-
cealed by a network of vines; and in the
inches were two winged children. Alice
inquired who they were; and Camille re-
piled, MY little sister and brother. Chill
dren of the Madonna now they is" His
mother had told him this, and he did not I'M
d~erstand what it meant; neither did Alice.
She looked up at the winged ones with timid
love, and said, Why don't they come down
and play with us?"
''From heaven they cannot come down.
answered Camille.
Alice was about TO inquire the reason why