River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1876-08-24
Tiny FOOTBALLS Within the Golden Gates.
BY REV cnAs. Il. cASrlELD.

1t is sweet thought that our young,
taken from us and laid away in the
grave, are not dead. We speak Of
them as dead aud in their graves, but
we mean by it that we have laid there
the casket in which they were en-.
shrined. 1t is nov twenty.eight years
since my little boy was placed in his
coffin, and we bore his cold remains to
lay them where unbroken silence
reigns, yet in all that time, he has
seemed TO be as then, our babe Of ten
derest years, and beautiful as when he
was with us, and the mother in love
folded him to her bosom.
The other day ] was asked how
many we were, and J replied, we are
four, the mother and boy are gone and
one remains, a woman grown, and she
has four 10 nestle in her cot. At her
baptism we gave her the name of Ada,
because she was
"sole daughter Of our home and heart"
We thought it a sweet name; SO did
Byron when thus he named his own,
who was early called TO tread the gold
en- streets. Christians do not die, as
men speak. When they go away from
Garth it is only a passage from one
room in Gods temple 10 another
more splendid. Death to the true
child is gain. So is death to our young.
1t takes the frail flower from the
murky atmosphere of this world and
from the chill winds, into a more gen
ial cline TO bloom in unfading beauty.
How OIL are your children, said a
lady to one who had told her she was
blest with three, and the answer came
"Betsey is seven and Henry is five,
but Mary, her age | cannot tell, for
they reckon not by months and years
where she has gone to dwell" We
cannot tell how, in Paradise, they live,
but we know the little ones are safe,
for ''of such, said the Saviour, lis the
Kingdom of Heaven. There they are
in the felt presence of the Saviour,
and what storm Of wind on earth can
reach themi
1t was the end of the week, Sat
urday the 10th day of Angus. The
day was calm and beautiful, and the
birds sang their sweetest songs as they
rested on the green boughs Of the trees
that skirted the woodland and shaded
our dwelling. Little Helen Lauraine
Putnam lay in her coffin, all in white,
symbol of the pure life. The day was
closing when we started from the home
in which she was born to move towards
the cemetery. The sun was fast sink.
ing to its ocean bed as we neared the
place of interment, and the shadows
from over the Hill had begun to touch
the grave, and on all the horizon we
could see the tinge of gold, when we
laid this dear and beautiful child Of
earth in her couch of blessed repose.
She was dear child, but too frail for
earth, and must be nurtured in more
genial cline, 80 we gave her up. She
looked sweet in her coffin, and il SEEM
ed as If we should place her in some
niche in cur dwelling to be gazed upon,
rather than in the grave. But we re-
membered Of this frail casket it had
been written, Earth 10 earth, ashes 10
ashes, dust to dust, and 50 we con-
signed her to the grave. Now she
rests in quiet upon the bosom of her
ancient mother, the earth, from whence
she came. We cannot now gaze upon
her form, but we can go and plant
over her grave the howers and the ever.
green which are to us, symbols of life
in world where beauty and purity
are TO reign forever. The casket lie:
in dust, the spirit has gone TO God. II
went up the Golden Stairway, and hal
entered within the gates Celestial, ant
angels, ever at the portals, were ready
to welcome her Another link OF
earth has gone, but they who remain
will remember that there is one more
tie above 10 draw them heavenward
Little Helen has gone before, but W,
are following, and will meet her there