Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1858-06-30

| come to trimble as | laid my hand on i
the latch of the door-for / Knew what L
you would ask me, you sweet little angel a
you. And 0 ! have found God. | coEae II
to thank you on nay knees that you did e
ask me-O! yes, blessed be Gbd-blessed !,
G0d-nolonger poor Ben. bat the child J
Of God. :
Tears choked his ntterange. Antoin- y
cite scarcely knowing what It all meant, /
stood looking gravely towards him, a child Z
ish wonder in her face, until gohn Hayden G
snatched her from the floor and folded her t
with many kisses to his bosom. !
The scene changes to a handsome dwell
ing in the city. Snow lays on all the
streets, white and glittering-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
drapery of the windowsis unified; children
go in and come out again with sorrowful
faces-the passing traveller looks mourn
fully up as he wanders by-there must be
gloom in that housc-yes, the white snow
of death lays on the forehead of an only
child.
She in her coffin now, with roses above
her pale bosom, and the little silver plate
says, Antoinette Hayden,aged seven! What!
is her mission, done so soon? Does the
angel bathe her wings in the light of hcav-
en-? Even so!
In a darkened chamber sat the mother
Of this lonely flower, bearing her grief alone
with God. No sigh broke from her bosom
no tear fell from her eye; she looked
calm, she was calm, but resigned as she
evidently 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
noislessly down stairs toward the room
where her child slept the last long sleep.
As she was entering, a voice struck her
ear, as if some long remembered music had
but now sounded the chord vibrated
against her heart. She paused the voice
asked for MISUNDERSTANDING Antoinette
Hayden-and another voice mournfully
murmured the sad truth.
Dead (? exclaimed the stranger; 'little
angel! dead?
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 a moment, striving to pos
sess his self-command, he spoke.
4 do not indeed replied the mother il
low tones.
'Ah my dear madam, l am he whom
your child's artless questions, morning al
! ter morning, pierced to the heart; / ar
! poor Loose Ben. Day and night have tn
. lovely features of hat angel babe been b.
. fore my vision. Every morning the cles
sweet tones have sounded on my ear-'dot
-. you love God" and, O, l have come
find her in heaven He bowed his hes
and wept, then softly followed the mourI
. ing mother into the shady pader. Deaf
= had not kissed even the freshness from Il
d" lips of the sweet child. Death, as if
., had no power to mar such loveliness, hs
- not drawn one blue tint along the marb
tables, or under the closed eyes. Dea+
had not stolen one line of beauty from tn
heavenly FACET smiled in spite of deaf
- 90! Antoinette-dear little AntoinettC
= sobbed the strong man, you found me
ignorance, and blessed me with those he
~ hands-they were the first pure fngerstf
~ touched me with the touch of love a
made my buried heart throb with new Ii
/ o little Antoinette you were the fl
one to lead me to my Saviour-On yo
- infant breath my name was first carried
~, to Christ. o, my lamb, eanst thou I
. look down upon me, and see me bend on
thee, blessing even thy inanimate clay ?
~ But the tomb can not hold thee, infs
disciple. Already is sheup there ? he Crit
I lifting his streaming eyes. The brig
ao ness of thy glory! o, God of hosts, fs
% upon her temples. She hath led souls
'r thee, mighty Redeemer, andthou wilt G
her a crown of life.'
He ceased and bowed his head uI
III, the coffin. What Grafton before crow
,eu monarchs ever reached the sublimity
MS this mans suffering over the dead form
cat a little child. He had bee1 CONVEX
through her ministrations, and since
entrance into the gospel ministry, heeo
ted those who believe on Jesus through
zen faith and his ministry, by hundreds,
rec he laid his troubles in the nam Of Je
IN, beside the gentle child who taught !
anu Christ.
II.!' Reader, | have not written fiction.
lai- dust of the child has slept in the g
ave graveyard, where the flowers are spring
acc to-day, t~wenty-three years. Twenty4
he years she has been a seraph in glor
Twenty-three years she has looked I
Jesus her Saviour and her redeemer
lot what do you and l seem beside this b
nc tiful seraph Though we drink Of
II aI fountain of earthly wisdom we cannO
heu' tain to a 1.-THE of the divine knowl
anne that fills her cup of bliss this day. T
ty-three years in the .presence of the
Won OF Life, going up and down the steE
= ba,' light--walking and talking with ang'
&. us pure, consecrated, holy
WIN And may not you and l win some
W to our crowns of eternal rejoicing?
N Au Mothers JOurn
" N.Y. T,o cn- 4h,o. H. $1,000 L..