The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-02-09
WASHINGTON THURSDAY FEBRUARY g. 1854

OF manhood that contagion keeps from the sick
room Heaven bless those noble souls, who, in
purest philanthropy, give themselves up holo-
causts to humanity.
But We could not fly disease A few days
found Us all three stretched upon q sick bed.
Twas bright summer day when Celia, Benny,
and ], met for the first time since the doctor
came to see us. We looked from the open win
dow, out on the green fields, gemmed with
yellow butter-cups; saw the snnhght dance
over the tall grain, but we were not glad
There we stood, gazing on each others ENACT
ated faces, mover speaking Little Oily, who
had been almost well, was again sick, and
there was no hope otis terrible to die, and
leave this beautiful world" said Benny and
fell on my neck, weeping piteously.
Twas very still in the sick chamber-not o
sound reached us. By and by the door open
ed, and slow and mnflsd tread approached
We knew that step gray hairs and trembling
hands had been with it in our sick rooms
" Come quick" said my grandfather, and turn
ed. In a moment we were with Oily. But
ali F.! we were too late. The spirit had been ex-
haled nothing but the beautiful clay was left
There it lay in its perfect mould. The same
little dimples in the snow-white hands, less
deep, to be sure, and the same velvet softnoss
to the somewhat sunken cheek. Grandfather
closed his blue eyes, and they lid him in his
little cCffin, with the dimpled hands resting ON
muslin folds. When tho first soil fell, grand
father murmured, 1t is not my Benny Not
my Benny" echoed I! "Not so,u said the sor-
rowing parents. That little, wan, cold form,
was to them the Benny Of my grandfather
heart
What gentle grief the death of little
child diffuses through household. A father
or mother is taken away, and selfishness die
tates deeper agony. We want not only their
daily endearments, but we miss the anticipa-
ton of our little wants, the tightening of all
our cares. These can never be to us father or
mother again. A playmate brother or sister,
departs, and it is as if our right hand were
gone We cherish fondly for years every little
remembraneer, aud touch, with full eyes, the
garments they used to wear.
But let o little infant pass away-we do not
weep, all the day long, as for beloved parents,
| nor yet indulge in occasional bursts of grief,
as for playmates lost but an ever-present sad
ness, slight choking sensation, remind us
that something we loved is gohe-a feeling
akin to that momentary sensation we expe-
| rience when little rosebud whose opening
We have long bean watching, is broken off by
the wind, or its tiny petals marred by worm.
We miss, in the mothers arms, the sparkling
eyes and baby laugh-we miss, on the carpet,
the Growing infant and its scattered playthings.
The sadness increases, the choking sensation
grows stronger, and, one after another, silent
tears trickle down for the lost infant
So it was when Oily was gone; but Benny
was left us, and the merry laugh soon rang
again. Dear little Benny, good and beautiful
how can thy loving sister find words to portray
| the image of thee, engraven on her heart
No parental or sisterly partiality has given to
the portrait its high ooloring. On the way
side, in the sanctuary, at home, abroad, stran-
gers singled thee out for thy surprising ethe-
real beauty. Thy little winsome kindnesses
are still fresh in the minds of thy schoolmates
the manifestations of thy manly intellect in
the memories of thy teachers and thy more
than manly integrity in the hearts of all thy
friends. But the breach thou didst leave in
tho household, we pass it over. Thy tried lit
tie brain, pressed too far, gave away, and there
is left to us one soft, shiny lock of chestnut
brown hair!