The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1858-04-16


ried q straw hat, bound with llack K
ribbon. Leisurely he went up to the
hearth stone, and leisurely set the
and the wood in their
place. Then lie turned around to
look for Antoinette. A little voice
came from under the curtains
"Billy, docs you love Godf Does
you pray 10 the morning2"
The boy drew his hands before his
eyes, and as Nettic made herself Wis.
ible he went towards her and fell on
his knees at her feet.
"You doar littlesngel," he sobbed,
taking her dimpled hand and cover
ing it with kisses. Every morning
you ask me that, and every morning
| lie to you. Yes, l lie to you, for
I 1--we no God as you say. Then
you ask me iflpray every morning,
and lie to yon again, and keep
j. ing to you because didn't know
no better; because | poor Dutch boy.
But this morning, you dear little an
gel, tell you love God. Itell You
| pray to God--yes, | love-I pray,"I
he added, the tears running down
his coarse cheeks, while Mr.. and
Mrs. Hayden stood looking on full
OF astonishment. "You made me
60 to God, you little angel you-you
make me pray to God, and tell you
no lie any longer. o, when you did
ask mo first, l knew not what to
make OF it, and / think it no harm
! to say yaas. But when you ask
again and keep asking, keep think
ing what you mean. 1t seems to me
that my heart was very wicked, and
| come to trenble as / laid my hand
on the latch OF the door-for | knew
what you would ask me, you sweet
little angel you. And now have
found God, and / come to thank You
that you did ask me-O! yes. bless.
ed be God-blessed be God no
longer poor Bill, but the child of
God"
Tears choked his utterance. An
toinette, scarcely knowing what 1t
all meant, stood looking gravely to-
wards him, a childish wonder in her
face, until John Hayden snatched
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 glittering--
the naked trees, the grey caps Of the
houes, the iron railings, all arc robed
, in the shroud of the autumn days. -
All! some cold wind, somo snow has
entered that house; the white drape-
ry Of tue windows is uplifted; child
, rem go in and come out again with
, sorrowiul faces--the passing traveller
looks mornfully up as he wandert
: by-there must be gloom in that
, house--yes, the white snow Of death
lies upon tho forehead Of an only
: child.
She ia in her coffin now, with
roses above her pale bosom. and the
little silver plate says Antoinette
} Hayden, aged seven. What! is hel
mission done 80 soonl Does the an
3 gel bathe her wings in the light o
! heaven? Even 80!
In a darkened chamber sat til,
a mother Of this lovely flower, boarin,
her grief alone with God. No sigl
Q broke from her besom-no tear iel
from her eye; she looked calm, sh'
Q vas calm, but resigned as she evi
dontly was, the stern immobility o
n her features, told that grief dcepe
b than could find any outlet, lay heav,
" at heart.
@ Rising up after her long vigil, sh
p went noiselessly down stairs toward
:, the room where her child slept til
"a last long sleep. AS she was entel
, ing, a voice struck her ear, as il som
L. long,rememberod music had br
i, sounded; the chord vibrated agains
VI her heart. She paused; tho voic
's asked for Antoinette-littlc Antoir
J. ettc Hayden, and another voic
&c monrninlly mnrmured the sad trutl
IL "Dead" exclaimed the stranger
, "little angel! dead!'
. And then came feet along til
&c passase-and tall, dark man, stoo
10 before her.
'R "You do not know me, Mr.
10 Hayden" he said, as after a molnel
striving to possess his seli-commanc
sn he spoke.
ar do moi indeed" replied the b'
,u reaved mother, in low tones.
n "Ah. my dear madam, ! am
;" whom your child's artless question
Is morning after morning, pierced
in the heart; ! am poor Loose Ben.-
at Day and night have the lovely fe
ay lures Of that angel babe been belo
in my vision. Every morning the clea
he sweet tones have sounded on N
to ear-'does You love Godl' and o!
W; have come to find her in heaven."-
u, lie bowed his head and wept, the
ne softly tollwed the mourning moth
's- into the shaded parlor. Death h,
,ro not kissed even the freshness fro
en the lips Of the sweet child. Deaf
sh as if he had not power to mar su
int lovcliness, had not drawn one bl
,rs tint along the marble temples,
all under the closed eyes. Death h
%, not stolen one line OF beauty fro
ad that heavenly iace--it smiled
lily spite Of death. . .
we go! Antoinette--dear little A
ely toinctte," sobbed the strong man
.-I"you found me in ignorance, a
ay, blessed me with those holy hands
we they were the first pure fingers Il