Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1851-12-25


/ She knew that it could not be--that her
husband had already overdrawn his sala-
r. TO pay his increasing expenses, and
her heart bled afresh a, the thought Of
their desiituiion. When the physician
left, she sat down at her table and wrote ::
Mother, mother you will not turn
from me in this hour OF terrible anguish.
NV boy--iny noble Wilie--iny fathers
namesake, is dying beside me for want of
air--the pure fresh air, which you revel
in. Oh, mother listen to me am
almost mad with lear-with anxiety for
him, my first horn. He is my pride, my
darling: bnt ol... if be can 1.-Two, | give him
up willingly into your hands. Come aud
take him from me; | will never see him
again, only save him from death. can
not see him perish for want of the air
which breathed so wanlonly when
child"
Thus disconnectedly did she write.-
The letter was folded and sent Anoth-
er week passed slowly, hour by hour, to
Marie. She would not leave the bedside
of her boy.
When late one afternoon Herbert re-
turned from his business, he found his
wife sitting as was wont by the side of
Willie's couch, her head resting upon the
same pillow, her arms thrown lovingly a
bout hun, one little hand clasped close
IN hers Beside them, in the wicker era
die, the baby slept. The Pickering lamp
shed feeble glare about the apartment.
He bent over his wlfe--both so deadly
pale il did not look like sleep.
"Thauk God" he said, as he saw the
chesrul curls Of his boy wave with the
breath oftbe mother. My poor pet"
he murmured, as he stopped to kiss her
transparent forehead then pressed an
other upon the pale, coH cheek Of his
child.
He started back and totterng to the
nearest chair, sat down clasping his
hands, and rocking toand fro in the first
agony OF sudden bereaymeut.
My boy my boy y was all that es-
capped through his closed lps,-Mare
moved restlessly, and opened her eyes
upon the face Of her dead child. she
gazed around wildly, then sank down up
on her knees, exclaimng, "Oh, God
the punishment Of my d'sobedience is
more than can bear"
MI that weary night, the mourning
parents watched beside that treasured
torn. Beautiful IN dcati wac tho child
OF whose glorious loneliness the father
had been SO proud Thickly the waving
curls clustered about his broad brow, and
the long fringe of the eyelids rested upon
the marble checks. The expression of
the chisselled lips was as serenely sweet
as ever, and the fathers heart yearned to
hear once more the welcome which had
ever greeted him. He twined his arms
about his wife and pIllowed her head up
on his shoulder, minsling his tears and
signs, though the hearts of both were too
tull for words
How gently fell the first rays of nor
ming hight upon the sweet face of the de
paried--how transparently pure and
beautiful he looked in his dreamlcss re-
pose II was not strange that the pa
rents should mourn and grieve over their
blighled bud.
The lillle one in the cradle awoke
and called loudly for its mamma. Ma
ne lifted the child, aud strained it wildly
To her. Who can tell how biuer-how
aeonzing were the thoughts which
crowded TO that mothers breast, as she
repeated to herself that fearful maledlc-
ton, May your children die in want
before YOU !"
That morning,a letter was brought her,
she recognized the TREMENDOUSLY written
supcrscripton, but it had come too late,
and she laid it unopened in her work
basket. A week afterwards, when the
first stunning weight of grief had given
place to a resigned melancholy, she re-
membered the letter, and wondered at
herself for SO long letting her precious
mothers epislle remain unopened. She
broke the seal, and two fifty dollar bills
fell into her lap, but the sheet was
blank.
ooh could she have written one
word 10 me her only child 80 sobbed
Marie; then she remembered her moth
er's perfect resignation to her fathers
wishes, and she doubted not that he had
forbidden her 10 write. Through her
binding tears she al length discovered
upon folded corner, written in an al
most lleglble hand, these few words,
"my poor, dear child" They spoke vol
umes 10 Marie's laeeraied heart, Of the
ceaseless fountains OF mothers love
and sympathy. That morning she
wrote TO her mother thus;
50 My DEAREsr MoTHFR:
\ Your kindness came too late--my
little Willie is an angel @, mother, il
was so hard to give him up it is so
hard now to realize that he has gone
look around-hs little crib is empty,
his toys no longer scatter the floor. |
listen TO his sweet toned voice, but il is
lost TO me forever. Dear mother, pray
for me that may not murnur or repine.
Willie used often TO talk about you and
my dearly loved father, and he said
when he got TO heaven, he would pray
TO God that we might all meet him there.
Little Maude, who is Just beginning TO
talk. calls for sbuZzer lille" and poems