The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1859-05-19
No. GAG.

heaven. We, too have looked into Young
eyes, that spoke only of better life. Hardly
home of refinement, hardly home where
kindly natures dwell, in which such a being has
not been sometimes lent. What perennial gift
ever suggestive, ever fresh. The father and
mother may grow gray and tottering; other
sons and daughters, strong and comely, may
stand by them but there always lives in the
family an infant, dependent and winsome his
thin hair, his dimples his tiny teeth, the little
words he spoke, are the same to the bereayed
parents, when forty years have gone by, as
when their young hearts were first made glad
with natural JOY.
We have noticed of late that our Marion puts
her hands, and very clumsy hands they are too
every now and then, up to her head, and SAYS
Oh oh with an appealing look We fear
but fall back on our firm trust in her earthly
nature. These gestures, however, always call
to mind the sorrowful experiences of friend
OF ours, who came to visit US two summers
since, young and beautiful woman Her
history land what beautiful woman's is not p
was somewhat romantic
Tenderly reared and carefully educated, she
had, to the chagrin of many weather. swain,
dared to love, both wisely and well, an itine.
rant Methodist preacher. When she came to
us, she was still young, beautiful, and very
happy, the mother of charming little girl Of
four years, and an infant son in heaven. She
had just laid the little one away and true to
maternal instinct, she loved to divide her sor-
row with those who had also drank of the bitter
cup. She charmed MS by her delicate sensi.
bility, by the tender ways in which she brought
her manifold mplishments forward to soothe
our own lacerated hearts
Once, in particular, we remember how she
asked for bit of paper, on which she might
sketch monumental design for us. We
handed her an envelope, which she returned,
to our establishment, in a few moments, adorn-
ed with beautiful sketch, so delicately sug.
gestive that tears came in spite of ourselves
Twas only little scroll, over which dropped
slender willow, with slight cloud and fore
ground-but, ali that Little Willie" so deli
cately pencilled, went straight to our hearts,
and we could have loved her for that alone.
She left US, we feared forever; but Provi
dence brought her once more to US this season,
the same charming woman, thought older
looking, much sadder, but still fair and vim
some. She is the mother Of srS children in
heaven. This time she came laden with locks
of curling hair. bits of tender poetry, and three
little miniatures, one of curly-headed infant,
plump, roguish, and pretty; another of that
same little one, grown into early childhood, with
premature intelligence beamng from her eye,
and grace instinct in every muscle the third.
of that same child, locked in sleep--alasl in
the sleep of death We ptied the poor mother,
and loved her more than ever.
Since she left US, We have not indeed felt so
sure of Marion; but we have been doubly con-
scious of our own responsibility.
It's glorious thing to be the mother of
child in heaven but oh it's fearful thing
to be, here on earth, the guide of an immortal
soul What shall we do with Marion, wilful,
naughty, afectiopate, winsome, as she is? How
shall we daily learn to tune the delicate chords
of her soul, so that by and by we shall never
have them tangled and out of tuner How
shall we nure her tender feet to thorny paths
how teach her where she may always fud I'M
der the dead leaves, arbutus and violets God
knows=-=not we,