Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1858-06-29

made Inc go to God, and tell you no lie any
longer"
Tears choked his utterance. Antoinette
scarcely knowing what it all meant, stood LOOK
ing gravely toward him, childish wonder IT
her face. until John Hayden snatched her from
the floor and folded her, with many Kisses, u
his bosom.
The scene changes to handsome dwelling in
the city. Snow lies on all the trees, the gray
cans of the houses, the iron ratings, all are rob
ed i'm the shroud of the autumn days. An
some cold wind, some snow has entered tha'
house; the white drapery of the windows is un
lifted; children go in and come out again with
sorrowful faces-aud the passing traveller looks
mourntully up as he wanders by-there must oe
gloom in that house-yes, the white snow ol
death lays upon the forehead of an only child
She is in her coffin now, with roses above hel
pale bosom, and the little silver plate says, ,An'
toinette Hayden, aged seven." What! Is heI
mission done so soou? Does the angel bathe
her wings in The light of heaven9 Even SO!
In a darkened chamber sat the mother OF this
lovely flower, bearing her grief alone with God
No sigh broke from her bosom--no tear fel
from her eye; she looked calm-she was calm
but resigned as she evidently was, the stern I'M
mobility of her features told that grief, deeper
than could find any outlet, lay heavy at bel
heart. =
Rising up after her long vigil, she went noise
lessly down stairs towards the room where hel
child slept the last long sleep. AS she was eu
tering a voice struck her eat, as if some long
remembered music had just sounded; the CHORD
vibrated against her heart. She paused; the
voice asked for Antoinette-little Antoinette
Hayden-and another voice mournfullly mur
INJURED the sad truth.
"Dead ~ exclaimed the stranger-"little an
gel dead"
And then came feet along the passage, and
tall man stood before her.
'You do not know me, Mrs. Hayden, he said
as, after moment, striving 10 possess his sell
command, he spoke.
II do not, indeed" replied the bereaved moth
er, in low tones.
"Ah nv dear madam, am he 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 babe been before my vision. Every morn
ing the clear, sweet tones have sounded on my
ear: Does YOU love God p and o have come
to find her in heaven" He bowed his head and
wept, then softly followed the mourning mother
Into the shrouded parlor. Death had not even
kissed the freshness from the lips OF the sweet
child. Death, as ii he had no power TO maj
such loveliness, had not drawn one blue tint
along the marble temples, or under the closed
ewes. Death had not stolen one line OF beauty
from that heavenly FACET smiled in spite o
death.
80! Administrations little Antonette," sob
bed the strong ms-n"you found me In ignorance
\ 81 LII, IL fl,au thG
first pure fingers that touched me with the
touch of love and made my buried heart throb
with new life o! little Antoinette, you were
the first one to lead me to my Savior-on your
infant breath my name was fist carried up tn
Christ. o! my lamb, canst thou not look dcwn
upon me, and see me bend over thee, blessing
even thy iuauimate clay? But the tomb can
not bold thee, my darling, thank God!-the
tomb cannot hold thee, infant disciple. AL
ready is she up there!" he cried, lifting his
o! Lord Gud of hosts, falls upon her temples
She hath led souls to thee, mighty kedeemer,
snd thou wilt give her crown of life.
He ceased, and bowed his head upon the cot
fin. What oratiun before crowned monarchs
ever reached the sublimity of this mans suffer
ing over the dead form of a little child He
udu UeeU CODNSTtSu iSi
and since his entrance into the Gospel ministry,
he counted those who believed in Jesus, through
his faith and his ministry, by hundreds; and he
laid his trophies in the name OF Jesus beside the
gentle child who had taught him Christ.
Reader, have not written fiction. The dust
of the child has slept in the green graveyard
where the flowers are springing to-day, % years
| Twenty-three years she has been seraph IN
glory. Twenty three years she has looked up,
on Jesus, her Sevor and her Redeeemer. o!
what do you and seem beside this beautiful
seraph9 Though we drink of the fountains Of
earthly wisdom, we cannot attain to tithe OF
that divine knowledge that fills her cup OF bliss
this day. Twenty three years in the presence
of the Lord of life, going up and down the steps
of light-walking and talking with angels-pure
-consecrated-holy
And may not you and l win some stars te
our crowns of eternal rejoicings s-Mother'
Journal.