The Hillsborough recorder. [volume] (Hillsborough, N.C.) 1820-1879, 1858-06-02

ed him all kinds of strange and original
names, but he did not mind them; and had
one seen him going up to his daily duty to
room Sc, smile might have been detected
lighting up his homely face. till It was almost
handsome. And as he entered, day after day
came the same questions about love and
prayer.
One Sabbath morning, never to be for
gotten day, for am telling no story Of fic-
ton, dear reader, the rap came as usual at
room Sc, and when the door was opened in
walked Loose Ben, worthy Of his name no
longer. He brought the wood not in his usual
way. but in basket, and wonder Of won
ders !! he was ettired in neat gray suit, from
head to foot and under his lett arm he car,
ried straw hat, bound with black ribbon.
Lelsurey he went up TO the hearth stone, aud
eisurely set the kindlings and the wood in
their place. Then he turned round and look.
ed for Antoinette. A little voice came from
under the curtains =" Billy, does you love
Godf Does you pray in the mornings"
The boy drew his hands before his ewes,
and as Nettie made herself visible he went
toward her and fell upon his knees at her
feet.
!" You dear little angel" he sobbed, taking
her dimped hand and covering it with kisses
" every morning you ask me that, and every
morning lie to you. Yes, lie to you for
| love no God as you say. Then you ask
me II pray every morning. and lie to you
again, and keep lying to you, because Idldn't
know no better; because ! poor Dutch boy.
But this morning, you dear little angel. ! tell
you love God. tell you prav to Cod
yes, love- pray" he added. the tears run.
ming down his coarse cheeks, while Mr.. and
Mrs. Hayden stood looking on full Of aston
ishment. "You made me 90 TO God, you
lIttle angel you-yuu make me pray to God,
and | tell you no lie any longer"
Tears choked his utterance. An.oinette.
scarcely knowing what it all meant. stood
looking gravely towards him, childish won
her from the floor and folded her with many
kisses to his bosom.
The scene changes to handsome dwelling
in the city. Snow lies on all the streets,
white and glistening-the naked trees. the
gray caps Of the houses, the iron ratings all
are robed in the shroud of the autumn days.
All some cold wind, some snow has entered
that house; the white dTape.y Of the windows
is unified; children go in and come out again
with sorrowful faces-and the passing trav-
eler Looks mourniully up as he wanders by
there must be gloom in that house-yes, the
white snow Of death lies upon the forehead Of
an only child.
She Is in her coffin now, with roses above
her pale bosom, aud the little silver plate
saws, Antoinette Hayden. aged seven"
i 4 ka. Il,
the angel bathe her wings in the light Of hea.
ven, Even SO.
In a darkened chamber sat the mother ot
this lovely flower, bearing her grief alone
with Col. No sigh broke FROM her bosom-
no tear fell from her eve; she looked calm
she was calm but resigned as she evidently
was, the stern ,nmobiIity Of her features told
that grief, deeper IAN could find any outlet,
lay heavy at her heart.
Rising up after her long vigil, she went
! noiselessly down stairs towards the ruom
where her child slept the last long sleep. As
she was entering, a vuice struck her ear, as
il some long remembered music had just
sounded the chord ,IbrateI against her heart.
She paused; the voice asked for Antoinette- -
/ little Antoinette Hayden--and another voice
mourniully murmured the sad truth.
Dead !" exclaimed the stranger" little
angel dead!'
AMI there came feet along the passage
tall man stood before her.
you 90 not know me, Mrs. Hayhen," he
said, as. after n moment, striving TO possess
his self.conm md. he spoke.
!" do not, indeed" replied the bereayed
mother. in low tones.
"Ah. nv dear madam, | am lie whom
/ your child's artless questions, morning after
morning, pierced to the heart; am poor
| LOose Ben. Day and night have the lovely
features Of that angel baby been before my
vision. Every morning the clear, sweet tones
have sounded on NV ear Does you love
i;ud .'--and u! have rome to find her in
heaven" lie bowed his head aud wept. then
sulIIy followed the mourning mother into the
shaded parlOr. Death had not even kissed
the freshness from the lips Of the sweet child.
Death, as il he had no power to mar such
luteliness, had not drawn me blue tint along
the marble temples, or under the closed eyes.
Death had not stolen one line ul beauty from
| that heavenly lace--il smiled III spite Ol
death.
I'll! Antninette--dear little Antuineue,
sobbed the strong man" you found me IN
| ignorance, aud blessed me with thUse holy
hands--they were the iitst pure fingers that
/ touched me with the touch ul love, aud made
my buried heart thrOb with new lille. o!
little Antoinettc, YOU we're the lirst one To
lead the to my Sayiour-ou your infant breath
nv name was first carried up 10 Christ. d!
my lamb, canst thou not look dnwn upon me.
and see me bend over thee, blessing even
they inanimate clayi But the tomb cannot
huld thee. my darling, thank God the tomb
cannot hold thee, infant disciple. Already
is she up there !" he cried. lifting his stream.
ing eyes. "'l'he brightness ul thy glory,
o! Lord Gud Of hosts, falls upon her temples.
She hath led souls 10 thee, mighty Redeemer,
and thou wilt give her crown VI llis"