The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1858-03-24


was opened, in walked Loose Ben, wor-
thy of the name no longer. He brought
the wood not in the usual way, but in a
basket, and wonder of wonders he was
a,tired in neat, gray suit, from head
to foot, and under his left arm he car
ried straw hat, bound with black rib
bon. Leisurely he went up to the
hearthstone, and leisurely set the kind
lings and the wood in their place Then
be turned round to look for Antoiaette.
A little voice came fro under the cur
tains-
Chilly, does you leve God Does you
pray in the morning P''
The boy drew his hands before his
eyes, and Nettie made herself visible, he
went towards her and fell upon his knees
at her feet.
"You dear little angel" he sobbed,
taking her dimpled hand and covering
it with kisses, "eyery 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 if pray
every morning, and I lie to you again,
and keep lying to you because don't
do better; because I poor Dutch boy.
But this morning. you dear little angel,
I tell you love Cod tell you pray
to God-yes I Iloye-I pray" he added,
the tears running down his coarse cheeks,
while Mr.. and Mrs. Hayden stoed look
ing on full of astonishment "You made
me go to God, you little angel you
you mode me pray to God, and I tell
you no lie any longer. O. when you
did ask me first, knew not what to
make of it, and think it no harm to
say ya-as. But when you ask again and
keep asking, I keep thinking what you
mean. 1t seems to me that my heart is
very wicked, and come to trembls as
I laid my hand on the Latch of the door
for I knew what you would ask me,
you sweet little angel you. And now l
have found God, 1 come to thank you
on my knees that you did ask me-O !
yes, blessed be God-blessed be God
I no longer poor Bill, but the child of
God"
4 Tears choked his utterance. Antoin-
ette, scarcely knowing what it all meant,
stood looking gravely towards him, a
childish wonder in her face, until John
Hayden snatched her from the floor and
folded her with many kisses to his bo
som.
The scene changes to handsome
dwelling in the city. Snow lays on all
the streets, white and glittering-the
naked trees, the gray caps of the houses,
the iron ratings, ell are -robed in the
shroua of the autumn days. All some
cold wind, some .snoR has entered that
house; the white drapery of the window
is unlightted,; children 60 in and come
out again with sorroyfpl faces-the pass
! ing traveller looks mournfplly up as he
wanders by-thers must be gloom in
. that heuse-yes the white snow of death
lays upon the forehead of an only child.
She is in her coffin now, with reses
above her pale bosom, and the little sill
yer plato says Antoinette Hayden, aged
seven. Whatl is her mission done SO
soon Does the angel battle her wings
in the light of heaven. Even SO
In a ,darkened chamber sat the moth
er of this lovely flower, bearing her grief
| alone with God. No sigh broke from
her bosom-no tear fell from her eye
she looked calm, but resigned as she ev-
identity was, the stern immobility of her
features, told that grief deeper than
could find any outlet, lay heavy at
her heart.
Rising up'after her long vigil, she
went noiselessly down stairs towards the
room where her child slept the last long
/ sleep. As she, was entering, voice
| struck her ear, as if some long rem en-
| bered music had but sounded; the chord
vibrated against her heart. She paused;
the voice asked for Antoinette--little
4
Antoinette Hayden, and another voice,
mournfully murmured the sad truth,
"Dead,n exclaimed the stranger-"little
angel I! deadl"
And then came feet along the passage
--and a tall dark man stood before her.
"You do not know me, Mrs Hayden"
he said, as after moment, striving to
possess his self.cemmand, he spoke.
81 do not, indeed" replied the be-
reavered mother, in low tones.
.Ah my dear madam, am he whom
your childs artless questions morning
after morning, piercsd to the heart; l
am poor Loose Ben. Day and night
have the lovely features of that angel
babe been before my vision. Every
morning the clear, sweet tones have
sounded on my ear--'does you love
God p and Oh have come to find her
in heaven.n He bowed his head and
wept, and softly followed the mourning
mother into the shaded parlor. Death
had not kissed even the freshness from
the lips of the sweet child. Death as
if it had no power to mar such lowell
ness, had not drawn one blue tint along |
the marble temples. or under the closed