The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1866-09-19


cannot know mothers hearth
The sun went down, and twilight deepened
into night and still the sufferer slept on. Late
in the evening he awoke, refreshed. HIS 6rst
words were, kiss me, dear mamma. i have
been in such beautiful place. have been so
happy; but am hungry"
How delighted was 10 hear this common ex-
preston come from lips devoted to the tombl
There was something so cheering Iii the words
that hope was born again within me, and
trusted that the sickness Would-must pass
away-a miracle must be worked in my favor,
and with the thought came back the desire for
prayer. Alas it was not that OF submission,
but of en,reaty that my darling boy might yet
be spared, and so night and day l wearied
Heaven with senseless repetitons.
Time wore on, and the dreaded six weeks were
paCsed, and even spring was come and yet he
fingered with us, daily growing weaker and
weaker. One fine sunny morning IN April-the
appletrees were in lull bloom; these he could
see from his window-'I should like to be taken
into the garden, if it co1ld be 'done," he said.
He was placed in a bath char, and so wheeled
on the soft grass, and he felt better. AS strength
permitted he was thus taken as often as possi-
BILE, until June came, and then the very early
apples we're ripe. On the morning before the
last fatal one he was wheeled in the garden, as
he had been many times before, the apple-trees IS,
laden with Muit bent their branches to the
ground. AS he was slowly taken past he de-
sired that branch might be lifted to him. He
admired them, smelt them, and seemed as If
caressingly to touch each with gentle love.
After this he looked round on everything-trees
ana DOWe1B-Jnen asked 10 Oe taken IL.
Night came and before the morning dawned
his gentle spirit left us. And thus, in the bloom
of lie, with everything around him TO m0ke life
desirable, died my cherished darling son.
The hours OF the weary day that succeeded,
the footballs which were hushed, and the scarcely
audible voices which sounded as if there was
fear to awaken the Dead the preparations which
even in the first hour after the spirits flight
were necessary to be attended to- the despair at
the thought that the services which had been so
long necessary were now of no avail-all this
was overpowering to feel, and at.er long years,
1t is even now depressing to recall.
Later in the day. and before our loss had be-
come known, we were startled by the sound of
carriage wheels, and the loud ringing OF the
door-bell. A gentleman, who looked as sur
prlsed as ourselves, for the influence OF the
stiffness had made itself felt just as it does on
a sabbath, inquired of the servant, could he
"see Mr. John NortonY "
Master John is dead, sir"
'Dead What do you meanW
"He died this morning before daylight, sir"
30 God And for this l have come! Can
see any of the family"
The stranger was speedily introduced to u.s.
but we knew him not.
mo, no, you do not" he replied when we
said so; "but / know every one of you. My
"Ah!n my husband exclaimed; 1--WE know
you now. A thousand times welcome for his
sake"
As Mr.. B paced up and down, he said:-
"How my sops have anticipated with joyous
you that we are all artists, one in one way,
one in another. |, you know, am architect,
or rather was. l stayed last night at the
Bishops. We are old friends. 1t was he VINO
ntroduced-ahem!-you know-to the Prc5i-
dent OF the Academy. Well, never m1nd let
me see the boy once more;" and opening the
Giung-room door, he at once proceeded up
| stairs, Arthur leading the way and | following
| do not now recollect anything how we got to
| the room, or VINO went in first but as entered,
saw Mr.. B on his knees at the side OF the
| bed, his tace buried in his hands. In mo-
| ment or two he got up gazed upon the dead
torm laid his hand upon the chest, and pressed
| hls lips to the cold forehead. He then turned
! suddenly round, grasped both my husbands
! hands, said, God bless and comfort you !" and
! in moment, without another word, he was
! gone. We never saw him afterwards: but on
| turning to cover up the face we loved so well,
! on the breast was laid the coveted medal OBJ
tanned by his picture, and note from one OF
| his young companions, telling him TO "be jolly,
| for now he would have to go abroad, and be the
| envy of them all"
How different was the realization Of all our
| hopes How the tone in which the note was
! written Jared us Arthur folded me in his
| arms, and together we wept over all that re
manned of our 6rst-born. Did live thousand
| years, never should | forget that first real sor
| row. More than once since has my heart been
lacerated by the fading away of all held dear;
| but when Dot died. the tendrllS OF affection
were rudely torn, so they never claspcd sc
tightly again. II Is useless 20 prolong any fur
JutI uSldll5 IL DCuGut5 nO Out, dhu SfOh INV
| my more perfect submission 10 Gods will can
not wholly repress that first sorrow, which
seems ever fresh because it was first eXpe
rienCe.
During her brothers illness Edith was his de
voted attendant, and when he died she seemed
to feel his loss far less than any of us. She
spoke of him as if he were only gone shor
journey; and when no tears were in her eyes We
got accustomed TO see a spasm fit across he
lace as though she were in pain, but this ShC
always denied. Two months after his death we
saw such a decided change in her that Dr.
Vaughan was again called. He sat with he
some time, and then told us that change wa
necessary for her. and recommended Torquay
She shook her head, but acquiesced gently, a
her wont now was in everything. Mary wa
detained from school to accompany Edith anC
myself, for not for moment would leave m!
dropping child. However, not to lengthen ou
the story OF my second bereavement, Edith tol
lowed her brother in less than ten months
Consumption craVed its victim, and she was tn
sacrifice. The loss OF Dot tunned us; this grie
sent us PROSTATE. / seemed to see a fearful
future before me; my husband and all 10
\ children gone, and 81 alone left to tell tn
: tale.n
) There was very large amount of rebellion i
! my heart at the loss OF Dot. 'Thy will be done,
. | though uttered a hundred times by my mouth
n was never once said IN my heart; but Whe
1 Edith was stricken down, rebellion vanished
. and humbleness arose, as in depreciation; bu
. it required years of teaching to feel that whf
; He had done must have been in love- not i
/ anger.
. CHAPTER VIII.
- u ~ of p,,,; A