The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1868-07-21
MISCELLANY.
GIVING AWAY THE BADY.
A MOTHERS STORY,

III was lne tnlru uhy aller my nus
bands funeral (said the widow, and l
was 80 much stunned by his sudden
death that could do nothing but sit
and think over il, and try to realize
how II could be so. Only the Sunday
before he had been sitting with. me,
wat ching the baby as he sat in the sun
shine, laughing and clapping his littl e
hands as the shadows of the tree were
flung across the bare floor and moved
/ by the passing breeze. Now the child
was sitting in the same place, the warm
October sun streaming in on his bright
curls and making him look so pretty
80 like picture; but his father had
/ gone from us forever.
IL seemed to me | must see his dear
face once more that he would surely
| lit the latch and come in, and take our
| child up, and say, "a he often did
Mother, what would you take for this
| little brother?
! Even the baby missed him, and would
| come and stand at my knee, calling,
/ Papa papa = until I thought my heart
would break. The oldest children were
! AT school, the rest We're out playing, so
/ that | was quite alone. BY and 10y the
baby was tired of his play and came
and got into my lap.
Mama cry-inama mustn't lie lisped
out, and wiped my wet face with his
| little chubby hands but | could only
hold him closer 10 me and cry more Bit
| terly.
| Just then Mr. and Mrs. Lorimerdrove
\ up Ia their handsome carriage. They
| lived not far off, and were our richest
neighbors. When had invited them
I In and dried my tears II little, they
seemed AT loss how to begin the con-
versation; but Charlie had slid away
| from my side, and went and stood at
| the lady's knee, and pointing at her
! heavy gold bracelets, said Pretty,
| pretty in his childish way. She took
| II of and gave ii to him, saying:
Wont you come To be my little boy,
! Charlie :"
My heart took fright at once. They
had no children, and | seemed 10 feel ~
/ plainly as If they told me that they had
come for one of mine.
NO, no, mother couldn't spare him.
-sid, quickly snatching him away
almost rudely, fear.
| My dear woman began Mr. Lurin-
/ er, have you thought seriously ot the
: nnpossibility of your getting along with
five children under twelve years of age ?
II haz required all your husbands eff
forts 10 make living for you-how can
you hope To do without him" -
We offer, Joined in his wife, 10 take
the most helpless of your little ones, TO
give IL all the advantage we would our
own child, and surely you must see
Gods hand in it, that through u1 He
intends TO help you.
need not tell how long | withstood
their argument, but at last overcome by
their entreaties, | consented to consider
the matter. | never mentioned their
visit 10 any of the children, and had
changed my mind almost every hour
| since had seen them. At last, con-
| WINGED that it was for the child's good
] consented Ia give him up. When /
went 10 dress him to go, my resolution
almost failed me. / fingered over every
article put on him, and made every
curl over and over before | could get it
To suit me, and kissed his white shoul-
derS until they were all rosy. At length
he was ready, and thought he never
looked so pretty. He was full of ami
nation, for he was old enough to know
what IL meant to go riding. and he
clapped his hands and laughed at the
horses when they We're driven up. /
handed him to his new mother (the
children supposed he was to come back
soon, and he never even looked at me.
Oh how jealous my aching heart
grew
When came back into the house, the
first thing my eyes fell upon was his
cradle. | could only throw myself on
il and sob aloud. Then came the trial
OF telling the truth TO the children
None of them seemed reconciled, and /
felt that the worst was to come when
tho two oldest returned from school,
| / almost dreaded to meet them, espec-
tally Willie; he was like his father who
was 30 quiet and calm outwardly, but
hiding beneath his apparent coldness
the strongest, deepest feelings. But the
Others went 10 meet them as they came
home. and was pleasantly disappoint-
ed In the way the oldest one took
II. He seemed to feel that | had
done IL for the best, and that he must
hide his sorrow for my sake. He was
more thoughtful for my comfort, and
gentler than ever only very still and
grave.
The day ended, a. the longest will, at
last and II come time to go to bed. |
had taken Willie down stairs TO sleep
near me since his fathers death; the
J other children slept just above us. We'll
when came to lie down there was the
; empty pillow! Baby had always laid
his little rosy face as close 10 mine as
no could get II, and slept with one little
warm hand on my neck. All my griei
broke out afresh when | thought OF
him. Willie raised up at last, and said
earnestly:
Mother, it's Charlie you are crying
for, isn't it?'
Yes, / answered, Il know it's for the
' best, but it's 80 hard TO give him up
Mother continued the child, 'wher
father died We knew il was best ,becaus,
God took him from us but I've beer
thinking ever since We laid down how
poor little Charlie must be crying TO
, you, and how God gave him TO us I,
love and keep him, and now you hav,
given him away. If He had mean
B. him Ia he Mr.. and Mrs. Lorimers baby
wouldn't He have given him to then
At first P''
The chlld's words carried more weigh
" ith them than all the arguments o
J my rich neighhors. After considering
a moment, / said, impulsivelyi
, oh II only had him back he neve
- should go away again, no matter hoy
poor We might be-
The moon was shining so bright
that II was almost a. light as day, am
\ presently Willie said:
Mother, It's only half n mile aoros
the iislds and they won't go TO bed 70
a long time at Mr.. Lormers, let US &
and get Charlie. Why, mother seel
:. 10 hear him crying now
q Urged by the child's entreaties and IN