Glasgow weekly times. (Glasgow, Mo.) 1848-1861, 1852-12-02
The Mothers Dream.

Silently young and gentle mother sat
rocking her only child; her work had fallen
from her hands, and partly slipped upon the
floor; while the dim light OF the long un-
snuffed candle scarce changed the ruddy hue
of the burning embers.
Twas the birthday of Howard!
In beautcous light, scene after scene Of a
long life swept in panoramic view before
her dreamy eye. They passed, and the
mist OF darkness rested upon them.
'Oh God!'' she murmered, that such
might be my child. Take, oh take, and seal
him thine" Again she drcared Within
lovely cottage, surrounded by the wide
spreading beech and stately elm, she stood
and heard the breeze playing with the echo
Of 4 bounding stream, or, rushing up the
mountain side, laughing at the barriers time
had placed athwart the way. Daylight had
faded, the soft and glimmerirg twilight gone,
and twinkling stars looked out and smiled
A cradle with its holy treasure slow y rock
ed before her, she looked within-her babe
was there! A smothering cloud slowly
settled upon the cradle; and there the vision
ceased; she slept and dreamed no more!
A few short months passed rapidly
away. Again the mother sat beside her
babe. but oh-how changed. No more she
dreamed; no more her infant swcetly slept,
but tossed its little arms in untold pain.--
She knet beside her babe, but watching lis
restless motion, hearing its means and trcm-
bling for its life. There came moment S
pause--the little arms laid still upon the
checkered sheet.
Father" she cried, ''spare, oh, spare
my child my darling and my only child"
In vain. for with u piercing shrek Of pain
hor idol stretched its arms 10 her; she caught
it to her breast; it's head fell back; her babe
was dead!
Two long days in fearless agony she
watched her child, and then they bore it from
her to the cold grave. There was no ponp,
no ceremony as when man Of wealth and
rank is buried; ah no! it was only a babe
they bore! Few were the mournerS, few
were the words there spoken; short the
prayer, twas only babe they buried
The Sabbath came. Long and eloquently
did the man of God portray the benefits Of
, Christ's attonement: how dark our state by
nature is, how utterly deprayed the heart,
how gracious God, how bright the Gospel,
how glorious the Christians life, how roptur-
Gus his home.
"But oh my friends" he cried, not all
such enter in" then how fearful the final
doom he fixed upon the sinners course. In
words terrific he painted their home; he
give no peace, no light, the lurid flames
flashed up and only painted-"HELLu'
"And who" he asked, in slow and thrill
ing tones, "and who shall slumber there?--
Not hoary headed vice alone, that for long
years has been adding sin TO sin until It's
crimes surpass the power Of man. No. not
age alone, but we see an infant throng tread
ing the sulphury streets and flaming aisles
Of hell, and, amid the walls of the damned
we hear the piercing cries"
A female voice came ringing through the
house of God, like a shrek of despair--thc
groan of the dammed--and they bore the
half crazied mother to her desoae home.
The bright sun sank from cloudless SKY
into a sea of gold; the hill tops became III,
blushing bride of evening; and as the glori
GUS light, dappled with crimson rays, tadec
away, the lustrous stars shone brighter thar
before; the gentle moon poured a richer
flood of lmpid radiance, and the soft breeze
whispered sweeter song and a mellowel
note IN The weary ear.
Beside the silent grave knelt the stricken
mother, in prayer. Darkness enwrapt her
she saw not the tablets of the dead arounC
her, she felt not the little mound before her
she only knew her babe was dead. Timt
dragged heavily; each second seemed al
age, each breathing an eternity. But sud
denly light dawned upon her; the kline
zephyr breathed softer, the mellow moor
grew more gentle, and the pearly star.
more lustrous. She heard chime, soite
than the harp, and swceter than the voice
Of song; it was an angel throrg, chauntin:
"Holy, Holy, Holy" and in their midst sh'
saw her child, and heard its voice JOHNS
the sweet chorus Of the heavenly song.
1t was enough; her child was safe; sh'
feared no more.
She fastened from the cold and dew,
grave with buoyant spirit, unto her home
The cradle still was there as when the infan
died; the play things lay beside, as if Il
while the weary hours; at every step sh,
recognised her baby had been there, bu
now was gone, She felt The loss bat yet sh,
and not murmur.
The morning came, and carefully sh
gathered up the little things and stored then
away, a smile resting upon her pale chccl
all the while.
Friends noticed the great change, bu
knew not she had seen her child and Learned
from its own lips that infants are with God
i Olive Branch.