Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1873-04-23

Knight were shifted, and the summer and the
winter took their turns We made more
progress in Materialism thereby than modern
volumes of geology haze taught US. And
then, to think of the distribution of the globe
into quarters SO available. Europe Asia !
Africa and America A whole continent
given to us to devour We felt ourselves
to be principality and power-a dynasty
oil empire, and master OF mankind.
But, ah when We were 80 sick. What
charm is there in the whole cuisine so sue
culent aud safe for an invalid, as well-roast-
ed apple? Fever had rendered every liquid
food a tedious slop. Jelles were insipld {;
broth became vapid. The dryness OF the
tongue, the scum on the mouth, the odious-
ness of the fiavors, threatened to starve you.
Mother pondered WE'LL % Johnny, love,
wouldn't you like a little of that nice s4go p
You shat your mouth and turned over mourn
fully. Try spoonful of this toast-wateri'
Your teeth turned on edge Mother ponder
ed. " How about roasted apple?' Now
1t comes. baked apple? No, you simple
ton, nothing of that sort. No cammy mess
of pulp settling under a shriveled, but tough
and stubborn skin. A roasted apple beau
tilully brown on top with little saccharipe
bubbles simmering on the brittle surface OF
a skin that can be pulverized. Juices even
more luxurious than when it hung upon the
tree Richness refined. 1t ietches with it
gush of the old orchard 1t perfumes the
little stand bv the bedside like bouquet,
and says to eli the stale, tasteless decoctions,
and to all the vials and jars, as to intruders,
" Come, get out of this, and let me try. -
" Let mother feed you, Johnny. Just
little of tins powdered sugar upon it, to sof
IL
is keen and pungent- so kindly and sweet
like wit from lovers lips, or teasing from
loving eyes
Mother took the spoon and fed you, with
her own white hand, while her eyes filled
with tears, and her voice qua cred, Poor
Johnny you have had hard time" You
spoke softly then, g Mother, dear, I'm better
now will get we'll, and 90 into the orchard.
o, how nice this tastes Mother, how
green the grass must look, down our lane.
Did this apple come off that tree in the lane,
do you THINK, Mother ? guess it will have
lots on this year. mean to 90 there the
first time get out Mother, dear am 60
ing t. be better boy when get well and
am going to help you as didn't use TO do"
"Yes, Johnny darling if God will, we will
take walk together in the lane, and see
how that appc-tree gets on And the
soft, white hand put away your heavy hair,
ard the sweet, holy lips kissed your wan
brow-leavlng there tear Of gratitude, be-
cause - God was making Johnny WELL
And you got well. But now, when you
walk out, the grass is green over that
mothers brow; and when the apple-tree is
laden, you pause under the boughs, brush
away your own tears, and think of the hap
py throng. who stands under the " tree Of
lie which bears twelve manner of fruit.
You stand IN the mellow silence of an
afternoon, and the scented breath OF heaven
touches you to a throb of pain, while it
thrills you with the hallowtngs of tender
thought That hand that lifted to my lips
the nouri-hment, and softly stroke my brow,
has crumblcd, folded on the breast. Those
lips, thar spoke - softly and SO sweetly, are
silent, and 50 calm Mother Have [ kept
my promises to mother? Mother God, dear
God let me somewhere see my mother yet
again = Ocerland Monthly far APRIL