Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1855-06-21

lets used to dance SO lightly in the breeze,
when he frolicked with Carlo, up and down
upoR the greensward, swinging his velvet cap
to make the little dog leap high and merrilyl
All me Carlo has nobody now TO play with
him-nobody whom he can love as he loved
his gentle young master.
But Carlo remembers-O, he must remem-
ber-how once in the woods, he was chasing
silver-winged butterfly, down among the
daisies and butter-cups by the brook-side,
sharply barking as the bright insect circled
above him; and how cunning snake darted
quickly from tree, to strike the poor dog
with his fatal fang; and then how brave little
Willie, following close behind, frightened the
wicked serpent back to his covert again. All
| perhaps, if Carlo could talk, he would tell
everybody how he remembered and loved the
dear boy who saved him.
But Willie-sweet Willie-is dead. His
musical voice will not any more awaken his
tender, mother, calling for her first kiss in the
morning. His sunny ringlets lie damply on
his pale forehead-his white hands are crossed
upon his bosom.
Willie is not any more child in the world,
but an angel above, with bright crown upon
his beautiful head and a golden harp in his
hands.
May be it was from Willie's golden harp
that the soft music c1me last night, seeming
TO float through the chamber, when his mother,
weary with sorrow, closed her eyes for few
moments, and dreamed of her lost darling.
But Willie now lies cold in his mamma S
bed, and his little white crib is vacant. Only
Carlo creeps closely beside it, and places his
paws upon the low pillow, and means for his
absent playmate.
How solemnly the carriages are drawn up
in the street, one behind another, long line,
reaching from the great hall door to the cor
ner The coachmen sit silently upon their
boxes, looking up at the closed blinds of the
house. They know that within that mansion
are many sorrowing hearts.
Sorrowing, indeed around the little coffin,
wherein lies beautiful sunny-haired boy,
with eyelids sealed forever to the light of this
earth. Mourners, weeping for the departed;
friends, who rejoice so lately in his presence;
playmates of short month since, who cannot
believe their favorite is gdhe.
The good pastor opens the Holy Book, and
prays fervently beside the bier, speaking softly
of the blessed Jesus, who loved little children
tenderly upon earth, and calls them 10 himself
in the bright and beautiful heavens
Then the pale mother kisses her boy for the
last time the little coffin is lifted very gently
and placed under its velvet pail. Slowly and
solemnly, through the long streets, Willie is
borne away to the silent tomb.
Birds are singing sweetly among the trees
of the quiet cemetery, many lovely flowers are
blooming above the green graves. But the
mother of little Willie hears not the singing
birds, and the fower-cups yield no perfume for
her. S.
Is it all over. Was that harsh grating of
earth upon the coffin-lid the last sound, And
is the darling one folded away from the world
henceforth, forever! The mother of Willie
leans back upon the carriage-cushion, striving
to hide deep grief which may not be hushed.
Now, away from the place of iombs, back
to the city the carriages of friends and mourn
ers hurriedly returned. That one alone,
which bore the bereaved mother, fingered up
on its way, for the old servant had not heart
to drive the hofses at rapid pace. The tardy
ferry was crossed, and the coach ratified over
the pavements of the great town.
At the feet of the mother lay upon the car
riage rug, very quiet, with his head resting
on his crossed paws, the little Carlo, so late a
play-fellow of the lost one Even and anon
the poor dog would lift his eyes to his mis-
tress, as if Smpathizing with her sorrow for
Willie.
But the carriage suddenly stopped, and the
mother, alighting, found herself at the door of
her own home. 1t was quite dusk indeed,
the gas-lamps began to gleam far away, ma
king vista of light upon the walks. One
bright lamp centered its rays upon the broad
white steps of the lady's mansion, up which
Carlo, the dog leaped joyfully, while the sad
mother followed very slowly, for she was
weary with her long yigls of grief.
But Carlo, the dog, stopped suddenly and
barked, and then looked around to attract the
notice of his mistress. The lady raised her
eyes, and saw upon the marble steps a sight
that caused her to tremble with strange emotion.
A little boy reclned upon the white stone,
even as the dead Willie was then lying upon
his bier. The child's arms were crossed over
his bosom, his eyes were closed, and their
long lashes rested upon cheeks pale as the
marble which they pressed. Ringlets, like
those of the lost one, clustered in disorder
around his forehead, and smile fingered upon
the sealed lips, even as upon Willie's who lay
sleeping forever in the flower crowned tomb.
moment the sorrowful mother regarded the
young child reposing death-like on the marble
steps, and then she sank on her knees beside
him; Carlo, the dog, at the same time leaped
up, as in great joy, and began to lick the face
of the poor little sleeping outcast.
For the child lying upon those white steps
was only young outcast; an orphan boy, who,
wandering homeless through the street of the