Litchfield enquirer., 1865-01-12
.BY MRS. E. H. ,. y.cLsvrIAxp.

AttUc utSu nOOu tf9c, Nou kdfi, Of the Christmas time, and the Lills hate
 long lS
 Lost all of their flush of red. {" "What is it. mother?' again she asked, '' What may I hope t,-tay. e-e Oh is it bird with Iainlow wing. Or gaz He with me 10 play? Or is it a lamb with feeces white.
 may feed with my silver spoon. And twine with roses ti,ey're blooming now As red as they were in June. Or is it gem from your casket fair, Or a gl~sming. rosy shell. Or a snow white dove. for my heart to love Sweet mother. I'll love it well.'' "On no. my child it is none of these, No bird with it's plumage rare, Nor lamb. nor dove. for my own to love, Nor gem with its setting fair; But come t" my knee. sweet cl.ild, and see The gift that there conceal. No ChrstIna- tree would proeiuce for thee, gift you would like so we'll" Then straight to her side. with eyes 90 wide, Fixed leautifnl. clear. and bright. On a child as fair, with its sunny hair Blown over it's forehead whiIs. A0 uSs Nt" SSA c"SSs hASehS'S
 pray.
 To me does this child belong [" Thus poke line maid, in a voice afraid, And say, shall have it longf For she bas 8 mother. l arh sure, And I've seen her ihls very day, And she wept and cried. at my fathers side, When he took her child away" :. The child is thine. swee, daughter mine, ,' The mother did low reply, But painful spoke, with mournful leok, And tear stood in her ,ye. s.Yvu may do as you will. with your slave
 aud stlll.
 Though you dress her in gold and lace. There is yet one thing, which lknow will
 bring
 A cloud 10 your love bright face. Surr urust nevrr te.cn Her TO rVau ur ereII, She may join in yoar daily prayer, But in th,s Book she must never look, Good child, you'll obey me ihere." On tie little maid her hands she laid, And ,ben did the Bible bring, And the chiId's meek eye in sad surprise, Looked si the forhidden thing. But promise gave. that her little slave Should never look within In rapture wild, the beau'eous child, She dressed in gold and pearls, And the flowing hair, fl on her forel, cad fair, Waved down to her waist in curls. While the crimson lip, and the rose bright
 cheek, Would turn to her own. as red. And the little one claspad her, OCT and O CT, "'Tis @ Christmas gift," she said.  And the Christmas gift was woudrcus fair, And wondrous fair it grew. Till which was mistress and which was maid, A stranger never knew. But when in prayer. the mistress knelt, With her Bible open wide, A sofi hand ever clasped her own,
 And form knelt at her side: "May not look in that precious book? For have soul to save;" Thus spoke to The child, fin accents wild. The voice of her little slave "You're dressing me gay, from day to day But say, is i, not N sin. While you're thus adOrning the clay without That you dress net he soul within :" And the slave wspt sore, on the soft -hust
 floor, -.- .:s sse--t-s= And her hand on the other laid; 'Tis as white as thine, fair mistress mine, Ohl who has the differ ence made .''
 x Twas Christmas night. and the roses whit, W ere blooming around the door. Where s maiden lay, on this festive day, S And never would rise up more. Bright silken hair. on her forehead fair, Mas par,ed, and smooihed away, At her soft coulmand, by as fair hand, Of ths little slave who lay With murmurings sweet a, her mistress feet And moving of lips in prayer, Then moarnini vail, told he mournful tale That her mistress was dying there. And q gash of tears, as nf olden years, Rsined out from her eyes go young, While the soft words fell, like silver bell From her sweet and girlish tongue. 'sOh come unto me, and rest" said He, sOh couae unto mo and rest: ss Ton may safely lay, az yoa pass away, Your bead oa thus loving breast. For am the Shepherd, ye the sheep, Cone up to my pastures fair, And ia my fpld. will surely keen
 The lambs who are gathered there." NaHgLt had she read, of the words she said Bat she knew they were words of cheer, And the sweet young thing, that lay wi,her
 ing.
 ! Had counted those words most dear. They were dear indeed in her hoar of need, As bsr feet grew nigh lbe grave, 8 And upon the brink. she stopped to think Of the need of her little slave.
 .- Just then the chime. of the Christmas time Rsng oat on the startled air, Bat its merry tone was n ssiemn moan To the young girl lying fkers: \ And the eye all dim with the .dews of death Grew dinner with gathering tears, As she thought of the olden Christmas time And tue gif,s of her early years. Then rising straight, in her bed she sa,e, A spirit 30 passlng fair. ssz And . world of grace. in her sweet youn, E ssa face; s sgse.sssa= ''7 -. - 2 Teamed bright on the vatehsrs thsrs.