The semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1882-1886, 1884-10-18
HOW MY BABY DIED.
A Tender, "Reminiscences WrunQ
from q Mothers Heart.

The Doctor said it had q severe
cold and prescribed for it. He went
away aud returned In an hour with
| out being called. Then l knew my
| baby boy Was more ill than | had
thought, and when he went away l
follow him out OF the house and into
| the suoW-burdened air and said to
him:
doctor, tell me the truth? Will
my baby die?"
ut is very ill.," he replied, ''but
there is yet q little hope"
Then / returned aud looked agal n
on the sweet face of my little boy:
Where dimples had been were bard
white lines Of pain. Where the mes
trlls had been such q soft and vel
vety pink, you could e the light
shine through their walls, and every
hairlike vein was blue almost to
blackness. The little hands, which
1 was wont to feel patting my face
aud pressing my cheeks, had lost
their tender cunning. and were lying
~uselessly on its heaving bosom, pur-
ple and clenched. I knew my baby
was not for long. I knew that even
then the Angels, who loved it q little
better than I, were waiting to take 1t
away. L saw the death dew stand in
diamond beads upon its a%lahaster
brow and felt the dampening curls
that clustered like falling sunshine
where l had been wont TO kiss it. |
heard the faint gurgling in my haby's
threat and SAW nO recognition in Its
ewes onres 30 soft and blue and laugh
ing, but now CLASSY with the h'n OF
death. They were looking away,
through the ceiling and root OF my
hun b cot age intothe realms where
the Recording Angel sat with the
book of lite open before him, Al q
page a. White rs snow, save where
the name was written 1t its top-the
name Of my darling by. ..
The snoWhakes ceased to fall, q
the glad sunlight from the west came
in thr, ugh the window and fell upon
my baby's bed, flooding it with a
radiance and glory like that which
trembles On the golden tiles OF
Heaven, and then the sun sank ont
of view, and in the grey twilight my
baby lay, struggling body aud soul,
the one with the other, for the MAJ
terry. As the shadows deeDened L
saw the bony hand of death reach
out from among the pillows and clutch
my baby by the throat. l tried to fight
the monster back but he would not
loose his hold.
The lamps were lighted and I saw
my baby smile, as if it saw a face
more welcome, kind and sweet than
the face of her that bore it bending
over its cradle-the face of Him who
said, "Suffer little children to come
unto Me, and forbid them not, for OF
such is the kingdom of Gcd," and
while it yet smiled, the soul went out
from the tabernacle of clay, and left
the temple tenantless and cold, but
beautiful as life itself. My baby was
dead, and 1 was clasping TO my heart
only the clay image of its soul, now
winging its flight through the bound
less depths of blue that lie between
the grave and the throne Of God. 1t
is a wonder that MN worship idols
of clay, when clay is so granGly
beautiful as this?
I slept and dreamed, and as /
dreamed 1 saw thepea,ly gates swing
open, and knew my baby had reach
ed home. Icaught glimpse ofHeaven
and saw it fly straight to the arms of
Him who died upon the cross, and
ere the gates were closed the angel
with the book drew his wand across
the page and held it up to the others,
and I saw that naught but the name
of my darling boy was there, written
in characters of shining gold, while
all the rest was pure and white, and
as the gates swung shut the harps of
millions sang a glad refrain.