Daily national era. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1854, 1854-01-28

over the tall grain, but we were not glad
There we stood, gazing on each others emaoi-
ated faces, never speaking. Little Oily, who
had been almost well, was again sick, and
there was no hope a'Tis terrible to die, and
leave this beautiful world said Benny and
foil on my neck, weeping piteously.
Twas very stil in the sick chamber--not a
sound reached us. By and by the door open
ed, and slow aud muhled 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 moment we were with oily But
all we were too late. The spirit had been ex-
hailed nothing but the beautiful clay was left
There it lay in it's perfect mould The same
little dimples in the snow white hands, less
deep, to be sure and the same velvet softness
to the somewhat sunken cheek Grandfather
closed his blue eyep, and they laid him in his
little cetiin, with the dmpled hands resting on
muslin folds When the first soil fell, grand
father murmnred, alt is not my Benny !" Not
my BENNY echoed /! "Not son said the sor-
rowing parents. That little, wan, cold form,
was to them the Benny of my grandfather's
heart
What gentle grief the death Of a little
child dffuses through household. A father
or mother is taken away, and selfishness dc
tates a 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
remembrancer aud touch, with full eyes, the
garments they used to wear
But let 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 cver-presens sad
nesp slight choking sensation, remind us
that something we loved is gone--a feeling
akin to that m0mentary sensation we expe.
rience when little rosebud, whose opening
we have long been watching is broken of 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 playthngs.
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, engrayen on her heart!
No parental or sisterly partiality has given to
the portrait its high coloring. 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 ddst leave in
the household, we pas 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