Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-10-15

In these golden October DAYS, over and
over again have / repeated this scrap of
song. At the first breath Of frost the but
ternuts gave up their foliage, and on every
side one could hear the musical patter of the
falling shower Here in the valley even
now the naples lift barred branches, bat
away from the river the hillsides are still
respondent in scarlet and gold. Notice
yonder wooded height--rch at the base in
reddest robes, with deep, dark setting of
evergreen, and nearer the summit only
heavens own gold. Summers work is truly
done, and glorious is the browning No
gloomy, lonely days are these, for each fall
ing leaf but reminds me of precious les
son once whispered low in my heart. I'm
der the rustling leaves we had made a tiny
grave, and little Willies hand no longer lay
through the hours of the night close-clasped
in mine. Weak with pain aud physical
WEAKNESS, in the gathering twilight of an
especially lonely day I sought my couch.
Often in early morning, sun-heated noon, or
calm even-tide had |, at my open window,
watched the fluttering leaves of lordly
maple only few rods away. Sweet music
had found in their pleasant rustling but
that night it only added to my pain. Sud-
denly soft voice aroused my attention,
NiOthci-biCc, III tht udlkntSS see YOU nOU.
Are you there 7 My heart is full of fear"
" Yes, trembling little leaflet, Just as near
as ever am l." came the CHEEKY answer.
What cause of alarm have you ?" Eagerly
| listened, and heard the oft-told tale of
pleasant spring, vigorous life, gay Pickering
sunshine and dancing breezes. Glad in each
the little leaf had lived on till one bright
day when a tiny bird warbled a tender
" Farewell to Summer" in the branches
above. Slowly had the roses beneath shiv-
cred and faded the birds had flown, and
many times did golden-rod whisper, {" Win
ter is near" 90 mother, what is winter,
and where have my sisters all flown 7" A
gentle rustic filled my room and | knew the
tiny leaf would soon be comforted, as soft
and low came the reply Fear not, my
child, winter is but the sleep of summer.
See you not your own changing robes The
dear Father of all knows that rest is as es-
sential as work, SO with his kiss of love he
kindles all into rosy beauty. By-and.by, at
my call, will you be borne down here, closer
still to my heart, where, covered with the
softest of white mantles, sweet shall be thy
slumbers." "And shall never again dance
in the sunlight or glisten in the dew p
Listen, my darling" still whispered the
tree. "Down close to the twig to which you
cling, safely protected by the folds about
your stem, see you not that tiny bud Just
like that were you last year. Just like you
will that fold of green be another summer.
In Gods own way up through trunk, branch
and twig, shall you find your own old place
again. Death is life, and darkness the sure
road to light. Dear to me, little one, art
thou, and fain would have you nearer my
heart" All for moment was quiet, when
hushed voice gently whispered, o mother,
I'm not afraid. God won't let me lose my
way. Can come in the darkness down to
you ?" yes, my child, come" Was it
the goodbye or greeting kiss which wakened
me know not, but never again have
been sad to note the falling of the leaves.
Never again have l murmured at my own
roughened path. Though many are the
graves of "my own on the hillside, and
one by one have youths hopes flown, l know
that in Gods own way" he will lead me
to himself. The One who gave me sweet
comfort that night is near, aud know that
by-and-by nothing shall be missed of my
own living and loving. So | am content,
and the white dove of peace close nestles in
NV breast.