Washington telegraph., 1854-11-15
Death of Little Children.

If there be connecting link between earth and
heaven, it is little children. The most depraved
are melted into contrition before their innocent
prattling and even the wild eyes of the lunatic
grow subdued and are filled with tears when they
gaze upon these gentle spirits, which. like birds
of heavenly plumage, do not seem to have been
intended for this world of sin and shame II they
thus appear to those uninterested in them except
so far as they seem to be the embodiment ofpuri-
ty. how much more deeply seated must be the
feelings, who view them with those sentiments
of love and responsibility which are the ornaments
of their station! There are other Affections which
strike more deeply, and which fix more durable
sorrow in the mind than the death of one of those
little ones: but there is none which lacerates a
parents heart, for the time, so keerly. There is
something which cannot fail to touch even the
most uninterested in the illness of little child
1t suffers neekly, and struggles with the king
of terrors in such placid resignation that the heart
of the behoder is melted to tenderness To pa
rents, as they watch tie last fckerne breath of
the beloved one, and see the moment that the pale
hue of death settles inevitably upon the lips there
comes an anguish that is uuspeakable Il is not
the selfish sorrow over one who is bound to them
by ties of worldly interests. for in the death OF a
child they lose nothing that could add to TEMPORAL
prosperity. Often in the case OF the poor it is
one mouth less to feed, one body less to clothe:
yet the grief Is not less poignant or the wound
L
from the heart. There is no tant OF sin in the
parents grief for the death Of an infant They
watched without murnur over its little couch
while disease was doing its work; and when it
stretched forth its tiny hands imploringly for re-
lief how keen was their anguish that they could
not administer to its necessities The fell de-
stroyer. which smote over 10000 children in this
city, under two years OF age, last year. had marked
it for its own. The feeble breath grew more in
CONSTANT the little hand was raised less frequent
ly for aid, and finally it sank back upon its pillow
dead. The vital spark had fed. The mother
sits by Its llfeless form, buries her face in her
hands, and weeps. It is the only relief she can
find The father may be away to his business he
knows not that the little prattler, W hch always
greeted his return with spch unbounded Joy. is no
more He fond!y hopes it will recover but that
evening when he returns from his daily labors.
he sees tied on the knob Of the door-bell white
cloth. 1t is the emblem OF the loss of pure and
unspotted spirit, which has been called to a home
beyond the skies. He enters the house: but all is
still as the grave. There is gloomy atmos-
phere around him. and he feels that he is in the
halls OF death. Not word is spoken; for what
is so expressive of sorrow as silence! He hears
only feeble sob from the mother. and sees naught
but the lfeless torn of his child; all else seems
unworthy of notice
They bury the little one where the wild flowers
grow and soon over its grave is growing the green
sward OF the valley. After their grief has sub
sided. they would not call their loved one back
for they know too well that, innocent as il was
it could not always have remained So had it been
forced to live in this world OF sin and shame
There are consultations for every affection, and
this is one which appeals most strongly TO pa
rents hearts. While all the instincts of their na-
ture force them to weep over the loss of the bud
which has been nipped by an untimey frost they
yet must feel thankful, when looking at the trials
which beset the living tina. it has been transplant
ed to a more genial cline, where it may grow
and expand, and inhale the heathful breezes of
celestial cline. N y. Sunday Tiapss.