The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1874-09-23

weight Of little body that used to creep there
in; but to-night--and in this hateful house
that dear remembrance has left me, and my
arms seem utterly empty. All, when Frank
returns I'll beg him to take me back to that
parish by the sea. They loved little children
there--the dear people III beg him. for
the sake of the little broken toys will show
him, for the sake of our dear angel child and
my poor grieved heart, to take me away from
a place were that beautiful form, were it with
us, would have been unwelcome. 1t does not
seem to me they could have frowned upon
Mamie-our darling-yet she had little rest
less feet and busy little hands, and there is no
room for them here. Mamie was as fair
flower as ever blossomed, the roundest face,
the fairest head, the pinkest cheeks and the
brightest eyes of all the babies that ever grew,
Every one said SO mot only Frank and l.
but ecerg one. She was nearly two years old
when we moved to our " seaboard parish,
and her little voice had closed around many
words, even then. One of the stranger neigh
bors, dear woman, caught her in her arms at
g the society,"" and called her ga little angel
without wings" "Just the name for tbe
precious" said another and then all around
the room they kissed my baby, and each one
reiterated the pretty new title. Mamie laugh
ed as though she knew very well what it all
meant, and tossed her arms about in great
glee.
"Ah, alb |" exclaimed Aunty Curtiss, OBJ
wings for long, long time ~
" Neoerl" said /, tiercely, ga baby on
earth is worth half dozen in heaven" where
upon they looked at each other in a funny
way, and l supposed they thought what a
strange woman was the minister's wife.
They forgave me afterwards, when they knew
me better
Mamie grew prettier every day Of her life,
and her title always chung to her.
And how is our little angel without
wings?" the neighbors would enquire and
Mamie, in her own dialect, would say
''Te pwitty well; | dosen't fly yet
awhiles.'
Sec that you DON'T they would some-
times say, and then would shake my head,
and laughingly reply
"There isn't any danger she loves her
mamma too well. =
Mamie was four years old, when sad letters
crossed the ocean to Frank, from his mother,
who, falling in health, begged to =" here
boy - once more ere she died. did not tell
you Frank was an Engishman. / say as
little of that as possible, for would have him
one of America s own sons,
We had a little money laid by, and we both
feIt 1t was FRANK 5 duty TO take It and go to
the aged mother, who waited in lar country
for sight of her only child AS the weeks
before his departure grew less and less, my
heart gave away in anticipation, and with it
my health Then it was that the kind peo-
pie of our congregation threw into my lap a
purse which was to take me too.
"And leave our angel?" questioned seek
ing Franks eyes,
with your mother" he replied; "sle
shall come here, and the child will be better
to remain behind. Can you not make this
sef-denial and leave sans wings with her
grandma ?" And looking up into his face,
my lips said EYES," while my heart cried
"No"
The eventful day at last arrived. Good
bye, little angel" said Frank, hugging and
kissing Mamie as though he were never to sec
her again. Goodbye, sweetheart precious
darling" murmured, and left her cheeks
wet with my tears. She did not comprehend
what it was all about, though her wee, baby
face was very thoughtful. cliff me up,
papa" she entreated and then with her little
arms around his neck she exclaimed "Papa,
DOR angerl dit'e wings if 90 and mamma do
away! +"
Franks strength appeared to desert him,
and why caught my baby in my arms
and 6eqged to stay behind. cit is only a
child's prattle" said Frank, though much dis
turbed. chilly, shall we pray once more?"
We went back into the house and left the
good people all standing around the door.
God knows if a prayer could have saved our
child, the petition that went up that morning
would have done it. But it was not to be.
g God sent our angel toings, and she fen to
Himself" was the telegram that created us
as we landed ON a foreign shore.
Was it easy to bear? ''Oh, it was not II
was mott' / was crushed, overwhelmed,
sufocated with grief and Frank grew pale
and haggard the few days of our stay, though
he whispered over and over, "God knows
what is best God help us to endure !"
H is parish by the sea, as | have
said. Living near the water, the sea always
in sight, one forgets what cruel grasping
things are waves, learns 20 trust them and
call them beautiful. Mamie had often
wandered ON the beach to gather shells, while
| sat ON the rocks near by but never like
other children of the neighborhood, had she
been there by herself to play. | cannot &C
count for it now--how she came to wander
there alone; yet it was there, in a cleft rock,
they found her. little hat and basket half
filled with pretty, white SHELLS. But Mamie
was herself missing: forever gone from sight.
"Washed out to sea- was the general
verdict, and giving credence to this, l would
creep to that lonely beach and beg the great,
crueI waves to tell me more of my Mamie.
For hours would sit their motionless, watch
49,