The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1880-03-04
The Lost Sunbeam.

II
A home can hardly be called home
without a sunbeam in it. Lillian Grey
was a spirtuelle-looking little girl with
| light blue eyes and golden curls. She
was an only child, and one of those ten
der, sensitive little creatures, much
loved, much loving. The parents lived
in country village, throughout which
the bright, beautiful-like looking little
being was beloved and known. She was
considered the property OF the town. all
loving the pretty win some little crea-
ture. Ifthere were few choice peaches
upon a neighbor's tree, there were sure
to be some put aside for the little bios
som, the village pet. And when old
Scotch neighbor O'Dornel's COW had
her first calf, 'he just, to use his own
language, 'took walk over to Mr..
Grey's cottage, as he hal q wee bit of
time, to bring the bonny aairn over to
look at it, She was 30 old.fashioned,
neighbor Brown propllzssied with her
wise sayings, sure there was none like
her. and added, shaking her head sig
nificantly, Mrs. Grey Will never raise
her; she is too good for this world. 60
tender-hearted withsl, and besides she
is not strong These words sometimes
inadvertently fell upon the mothers
ear and filled her heart with forebodings.
They sounded like clods upon a coffin
id, and in her agony and alarm she
prayed that her darling might be
spared.
In the meantime the little bud was un-
folding into beautiful flower. In
every house in the village she had an
interest; with her bright blue eyes and
golden curls she went scattering sun
shine everywhere. There were no clouds
across her sky; there were no thorns
across her path; her young life was
short summer day.
The whole village was in state of
alarm when little Lillian was taken down
with the fever, each considering the
child belonging, as it we're, to him or
her, all We'd with each other in aiding
the alarmed parents in their care. Even
Tommy Green, the idiot boy, carried
her flowers, of which she was so fond,
and with whom she had shared her gin
ger-bread on the way home from the
store. Give her these, said the clumsy,
overgrown boy, adding: She was always
good to me, she was. / want to her know
that like her, too No medical skill
could save the little sufferer, and af-
ter much pain, one bright summer day
when nature was at its height of beauty
and loveliness, her spirit wended its way
heavenward.
The beautiful head lay upon the pill
low like broken snow-drop, whilst the
golden hair formed halo around her
brow. The June flowers scented the air
with their fragrance, yet there were none
so fair as that broken lily that slept
within that chamber.
As stood and watched the funeral
procession winding it's way along the
dusty village road, solemn and slow, /
thought was it well TO grieve for those
taken before the storms of life had time
to blow over them,
Shortly after, visited Mrs. Grey's
cottage home, from which the sunbeam
had departed. The flowers bloomed in
the windows, the pet canary sang sweet
ly on its perch, and all seemed the same,
but when 1 saw the pale face of the
broken-hearted mother my heart sank
within me, and words of comfort re
fused to come at my bidding. / took
her thin hand and pointed upward.
Never shall 1 forget her face of anguish
as she opened drawer and took out
tiny shoe and velvet hat with blue
ribbons, that belonged to the loved and
lost. They told the sad, sad story, and
turning towards the sunny sky / hid nay
face and wept.