New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-11-13

The mother sat by his side, with her hands
clenched, firmly knit together. She was trying
to feel physically the agony Of sitting helpless
there, while her child died. Shscould not bring
herself to feel it, and SO se kept rising up look
ing wildly round, but, seeing no succor in any
quarter, would settle into her seat again with
an agonizing groan. "a y
!" Oh, john she would gasp out at times,
tell me, will be live; will he Be- better soon ];
will he know his mother again God forgive
me, but can not-oh, no, indeed, / can not let
him die !" ssS 81. 5ss 4@ + 81 ,s4si q
4 And then: s.s .4
Oh, why is it, why must it be SO When
behind US, we could not leave little Charlie. He
was 70 have been our good angel, 70 make every
hardship light and pleasant. Tell me, John, If
there is any meaning in this blow" s +, d..
It is the penalty we pay for being poor" an
swered the man bitterly ST
A dark shadow, as Of reMorse, settled sud-
denly down upon the woman's brow, as she con-
tinued wildly: s 55s Il f,..l En-, :. VA
But thought it was enough when we buried
little Arthur; you said God had taken him, and
it was better for him and us. But Charlie, he
has been longer with us, and he is different from
all the others; we can never love anything
again az we have loved him. Oh, see him now
--see his little limbs how they Irvine. O God,
do not let him suffer thus! Take him, if thou
must, but do not let him inger thus 4 SD n II
And the father answered solemnly, while the
child's limbs were stiff, and bent in q last con-.
vnlsion, and the old look Of life was fading away
in his upturned eyes, and great drops Of agoniz-
ing sweat stood upon his little brow, and while
greater drops came upon the fathers face--a
face whose every line spoke voiceless prayer
to God to shorten the death struggle-th he
answered ~ G;l1 Y. 4, 3is,4 Il "A n; rad s
eyes, Mary, this suffering is very hard
al fn<,H ard hut nnr anA+ boy,1
God with me that our Charlie shall never know
o suffering ten thousand times greater than this,
which you and could not have seen and felt
fort" 5#
g He does not suffer- said another voice close
by. " Even now your child Charlie rejoices
with the angels in the paradise of God. I" r'sY 4
As the voice spoke, the painful gurgling ceas-
ed in the child's throat, his limbs gradually
Strengthened and resumed their native grace,
while lovely radiance illuminated his beauti-
full countenance, as if it had caught reflex
from the happy spirit lowering there short mo-
ment to bid adieu to its late tenement Of clay
A peaceful, easy drawing Of breath or two,
and the last chapter Of this little life on earth
was closed. Ia ls,s f s.,
There was silence for some minutes. The rain
was over, the winds were at rest, and broad
square Of moonlight came in through the door,
way of the ranch, lighting up the spot where sat
the figures of the scene. 7s
1t was only natural that the last conner should
have been Arthur Orrington. 1t was particu-
larly fitting that he should have come at that
moment--I had no curious sensation how or
whence form as it were connecting, recon
Cling link between those afflicted spirits and the
higher order of existence, Of which their child
was now one. And when, taking hand Of each
within his own, he knelt before them in prayer,
I could not help feeling indeed that something Of
the spirit of Him, coming down from heaven,
took upon himself the likeness even Of us, and
event about doing good" yet fingered in the
form Of our humanity.
His prayer was no idle expenditure Of words.
It rose up from his soul like spiritual incense /;
and, as it assembled, like incense from other
souls mingled and rose with it, an acceptable
Offering at the throne Of the All-perfect Oh,
what an odor of fearful joy, and gratitude, and
hope, seemed to float upward and outward from
our hearts, making the atmosphere about us
redolent Of all pleasant things, when that clear,
soft, solemn voice repeated the words of our Sa-
and then the inefable peace and faith which
overcame US, how can i describe it, when there
followed the blessed assurance that &c Of such
was the kingdom Of heavene' ut;when, for
the first time, the absolute certainty of their
child's eternal bliss broke upon the parents
brain; when, following the spirit Of the prayer,
they saw him sitting with the white-robed cher
| should be his home forever, the measure of then
thankfulness was full. The great glory Of the
| thought, that while they were going about il
quest of treasures on earth, other hands thar
| those of men had been gathering treasures fol
| them, worth more than all the worlds of space
| and laying them up in those regions &c where
| neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where
| thieves do not break through and steal" was
| enough. The corpse of the child, lying in it,
| last composure, as if famed to slumber by an
| angels wing, was but typical of the perfect
peace and gladness of those two spirits, bowed
| and silent in the presence of that sublime rsve-
| lation. sl.t N, seHy5f4
It was long after the departure of Arthur
Orrington ere word was spoken on either side
| The man and woman sat in their respective
| seats. almost motionless, while the former still
held in his arms his still precious burthen. Al
| length a loud, long sob burst from the woman
| and as she turned her face full towards me
| catching meanwhile upon her husbands arm
| Isaw the lines Of tears streaming down hel
cheeks. y,
| "John," said she, in tone most thrillingl,
| sad, yet earnest, I feel that / have done
great wrong, but God has forgiven me. Can 70,
| forgive me also? r" 4.4ss .Es5r tr-,a.-,a
The man changed not; hissposture in tn
slightest, and she continued: ~
When you were in trouble, John, when tn,
/ world grew dark around you, when you hadn'
| a friend, John, because you hadn't money, bu
when little money would have made you fire.
and happy, had it, and kept it back from
| you z te.,g 7-.-,.. @,iIjs.e.
The man turned upon her countenance full
of emotion, but in which was no sentiment 0
anger. ~ .lj
I" Yes, John, I had money, money inherite
from relative, that you did not know of-an
I kept it back. But, oh believe me, did no
keep it from avarice OF mistrust-I kept
because would have been too wise, and was
fool'' s.5.T5tl.5
In the mans countenanoe was an expression
Of earnest, searching inquiry, which the woma
interpreting, went on: i >s5.
/ &C Yes, John, l saw you suffer day by day;
saw you despised by mean, unworthy men, an
kept back the money which might have mad
you Independent Of them all. But oh, John,
did not keep it back for myself kept it bac
for him; yes, for HIM, that / might have it t
keep off the evil Of his dark day. Oh though
it would come as yours had come, when he wa
handsome, light hearted young man, and
4 could not bear to think Of him crushed, and dis
appointed, and despised Of his companions
said, will save it for him, and when his dar
day comes, and he shall say to me, 6 Mother,
have no friends, and no position in the worlt
and must de-" then would bring it fort
, and give it to him, and be repaid by his kiss
and his tears for all that you and have su
: fered Oh, what fool was 10 81 9ss
The womans tears fell in gushing rivers, b.
r her sobs were less wild and violent. The ms
wept too, but calmly; and taking her by Il
hand hn said in a voice 40 toNchinplv tend