Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1875-09-01

4 few months ago buried my eldest son,
fine, manly boy OF eight years Of age, who
had never had days illness until that which
took him hence to be here no more. His
death occurred under circumstances peculi-
arly painful TO me. A younger brother, the
next in age TO him, delicate, sickly child
from a baby, had been down for nearly a
fortnight with am epidemic fever. In con
sequence Of the nature Of the disease, used
every precaution which prudence suggested
to guard the other members of my family
against it, But Of this one, my eldest had
but little fear; he was so rugged and SO
generally healthy. Still, however, kept a
vgilant eye upon him, and especially for
bade his going into the pools and docks near
his school, which he was prone to visit.
One evening | came home wearied with a
long days hard labor, and vexed at some
little disappointments, and found that he
also had Just come into the house, and that
he was wet, and covered with dock mud. |
taxed him with disobedience, and scolded
him severely-more so than had ever done
before and then harshly ordered him to his
bed. lie opened his lips, for an exculpatory
reply, as | supposed, but | sternly checked
him; when, with a mute, sorrowful counte-
nance and a swelling breast, he turned away
and went slowly to his chamber. My heart
smote me even at the moment, though felt
conscious of doing but fathers duty But
how much keener | felt the pang when
was informed in the course of the evening
by a neighbor that my boy had gone 10 the
dock at the earnest solicitation Of Younger
and favorite playmate, and by the special
permission of his schoolmaster in order to
recover cap belonging to the former,
~ llgh ..rba 1
learned that what | had treated with un-
wonted severity as fault, was but the i'm
pulse Of a generous nature which, forgetful
of self, had hazarded perhaps life for
another. 1t was but the quick prompting
of that many spirit which had always en-
deavorod to engraft upon his susceptible
mind, and which, young as it was, had al
ready manifested itself ON more than one
occasion
How bitterly now did | regret my harsh
ness, and resolve to make amends TO his
grieved spirit in the morning Alas that
morning never came TO him in health. Be
fore retiring for the night however | crept
to his low cot, and bent over him. A tear
had stolen down upon his cheek, aud rested
there. kissed it of but he slept so
sweotly and so calmly, that | did not ven
ture 10 disturb him. The next day he woke
with a raging fever on his brain, and in for
ty-eight hours was no more He did not
know me when | was first called to his bed
side, nor at any moment afterward, though
in silent agony | bent over him until death
and darkness closed the scene. | would
have given worlds 10 have whispered one
kind word in his ear, and have been an
swered but il was not permitted Once,
indeed, a smile, | thought of recognition,
lighted up his eye, and leaned eagerly for
ward. But it passed quickly away, and was
succeeded by the cold, unmeaning glare, and
the wild tossing of the fevered limbs, which
lasted till death came to his relief.
Everything lnow see which belonged to
him reminds me of the lost one. Yesterday
found some rude pencil sketches which 1t
was his delight TO make for the amusement
OF his younger brotheri to-day, 10 rummaging
an old closet, | came across his boots still
covered with dock mud as when he last wore