True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1855-03-15

lost one ray of color, and gemmed with
dimples that lay like ripples of a fountain,
or dew in a violet's cup.
The lips parted, and smile so sweet
broke over the features as the father lean
ed over, and it murmured, "mother, dear
MOTHER" that an unbidden tear started to
his eye. One tiny hand clasped the gilt
band of his drum, while the other was en-
tangled in the long silky threads of his
hair, while the little blue coat displayed
the fair, round shoulder, exquisitely moul-
ded. The embroidery on the child's dress,
and the tastefully arranged room, all told
of woman's hand but oh could it be
woman's heart to leave such paradise !?
Again the child murmured, "motherW
and, as Allan Everard kissed the fair brow,
the golden eye-loshes slowly parted, disclo-
sing large, lustrous blue eyes, so pure and
holy that angels might have seen their
images reflected therein, and claimed him
as a gem of light.
"WhCre is my mother ?" the child asked
in trembling tones, while tears glistened
in the radiant eyes,
Poor child! had'st thou asked for wealth
for glittering baubles-for any thing
money could have purchased, thy request
need not to have been denied thee-but
nought can buy a mother.
Allan Everard procured light, and
then took the little one on his knee, say
ing, as he displayed gaily painted toy,
"see, Eddy, what father bought you~
The child turned sadly away, and laying
his head on his fathers bosom, sobbed
half inaudibIy, 81 want my mother; you
said maybe she would come back"
The father bent down his head on his
hand, and thought whether he should Iull
his child's young spirit into forgetfulness,
or read to him the sad story. Perchance,
in after years the tale might fall wither.
ingly on his heart, when told by the scorn-
full lips of strangers: no, better to tell him
now, and he raised his head, saying,
eddy has no mother now"
The child clung closer to his father as
he asked, "Will she never, never come
back to us?"
Allan Everard kissed his child's fail
brow as he replied, "no, she will never
come to us again; and father must hush
you to sleep, and hear your prayer now.
for you have no other friend"
The little one put his tiny hand to hi,
brain, as if he would have, dispelled tbt
mist of childhood, and then he said
slowly
"It was long time ago, when til,
ground was all covered with snow, that
asked her where the pretty flowers we're
and she told me the angels had folded W
their leaves SO the cold winds might moi
hurt them but when the warm sunshine
came, so | could run out of doors and play
they would all be here again, and l watch
ed by the window for them until the,
came; if l watch for her, will she no
come, too?"
The father shook his head, for his hear
was too full for utterance; but the bo,
continued
"She is not dead, for they did not pu
her in coffin and bury her in the grount
like old Margery. Why will she not com
back?" and the blue eyes were fixed anx
} iously on the parents face.
For moment he paused, and then an
swered bitterly, "Because she did not low
us any longer; she was very, very wicked
and now we must never mention her name
for she is unworthy to be remembered"
An hour later, and Edward Everar,
knelt, for the first time in his life, at hi
}. fathers knee, and breathed the orisons hi
mother had taught him. Ere he had fin
ished, he opened his eyes and asked, in
low tone, "must I not pray for her l"-
But the fathers heart was fearfully proud
and he whispered, "forget her--you hav
> no mother now" Only moment did tn
child lingef, and his lips moved as if som
forgotten word was silently added; an
) then his lips were pressed to his father
cheek, and the little one went to the soft
i dreamy land of slumber,
Allan Eyerard sat by the table, whereo
lay his wife's harp, twined with withere
g aowerS-6t emblems of her love; and hi
3 heart went back to other days, as if
: would have fain gathered an ,antidote fc
4 the sorrOwing present. The shy, prou
{ eboy, with his heart longing in wild inter