The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1867-08-13
wIDDTEs AN0KI6

ana turned each clustering curt 70 Eoij.
a., through all the long sammcr DAYS.
they wandered IN The meadow and
orchard. or played upon tho sands Of
the sea shore.
Their mother. busy with household
cares. was content to see them come
from thor ramblings with rosy checks
aud happy heaTts--in listening 10 their
hird-hko voices prattling 81 The great
eagle whose nost was perchcd upon an
almost inaccessible eiin. high above tho
reach Il the dashing waves. OF Of tho
robin whose tiny home was hidden A.
moug the fragrant apple-bo0ghs Of the
hillside orchard.
Always, upon their return from an
excursion, they would stop At the WIN
dow, half hidden by the grapevine, and
rapping lightly on the glass, try 70 call
their mothers attention; and when they
had succeeded, what g,eoful laughter
rang out. waking even the swallow, who
pecrcd down from her nest under the
caves, and seeing the sweet faces be-
meath. settled herself carefully back with
low notes OF encouragement TO her
young, who we're fiuttering with alright
Widdie was the eldest. and usually
took excellent care Of his brother aud
sister; but one day he left them ON tho
beach while he ran home for his fish
ing line. He had hardly gained the
cottage door when a piercing shrek
from the children reached his ears. -
The mother dropped her work, and with
fear -blanched faces both mother and son
FASTENED TO the beach
Alas il was too late; the waves
washed ashore the lifoless bodies OF tho
two children, tightly clasped in each
other sarms, and vainly the mother tried
to restore life. A little grave was made
beneath the willow under whose shelf
ering branches they had 40 often played
and within sound Of the roar OF the
waters which henceforth would sing u
sad requiem for them.
The long sunny days of autumn camo
the apple-blossoms bad turned TO ius-
cious fruit, the golden grain had been
harvested and above the cottage win
dow rich clusters Of grapes hung purp-
ling in the sun.
There were no little feet patering un-
der the window, no little hands tapping
upon the glass, or teasing brother Wild
die to reach for the coveted fruit; aud
many lonely day the boy spent keep
ing his sad mother company
One day neighbor happened in at
the cottage, and, and noticing the
ripening grapes, asked Mrs. Marella
why she did not make them into wine.
q have never had any to spare
until this year" she answered. Meta
and Fred loved them, and gave thom
full permission to eat all they wished,
and so there was seldom any TO waste
Widdic docs not care for grapes, and /
think, as you have mentioned it, that l
will make them into wine"
just as she uttered these words low
tap at the window caused her 10 start
and turn pale, 80 much did it remind
her Of the playful signals with which
her little ones used to announc their
coming; but no little laughing faces
were peering in at the window, only the
white-winged dove they had tamed
stood there, waiting to have the sash
raised FOR its admission.
Wlddie had fallen asleep upon tho
lounge, and the dove few TO him. and
with low cooings nestled close to. his
cheek.
Mrs. Marella turned again
TO her visitor, but somehow tho
process of wine making which she had
been trying to impress upon her mind
had lost its interest. and her thoughts
had gone back to her children, and they
seemed once more to iill the room with
their presence.
Widdie grew restless in his sleep,and
at last, with sharp cry, started up
His mother was ut his side in an
instant
"What is it dear? are you sick2'
20 mother / have had such
dream | thought Mrs. French had
persuaded you to make all Of our beau
tiful grapes into wine; and just "a you
had promised to do so, there came rap
at the winnow under the grape vine;
and when looked, there stood Meta
and Fred, but their faces we're very
pale and solemn, and they had largo
white wings, which fiuttered as though
they longed TO be floating away from
this sorrowful earth.
"They motioned me 10 follow them,
and silently We passed far, far away.
All was darkness and gloom. and at last
we paused upon the brink Of a dread
full gulf and looked down and saw
men struggling in fearful torment and
cursing your name. / turned 10 Fred
for an explanation. In low awe-struck
tones he whispered; These are our
mothers victims. She made wine from
the juice of the grapes which grew
above our cottage window, and tempted
men to drink; the strong and the brave
learned to love the red wine, they be-
came drunkards, and this istheir abode
Again looked, but this time tho
scene was upon the earth. In our dear
old hApne saw myself slave TO the
winsCup which came crimson from
your hands. drank ii TO the dregs,
when from ont the glass reared terri
bic viper which struck It's fanga into my
heart, and as / lay dead you wept above
me, calling yourself murderer Moth
or 0 Mother am 30 thankful II 10