Nevada County picayune., 1886-09-22
APretty Baby and Dying Mother.

lsh iiO S pAN'ty p"pNs oohp. See, look at hm " and sine holds mp the creature to papa, who kiss es and fondles him lovingly.
 "Yes, Kate, he is pretty baby, but Tom was a pretty baby. too, you remember"
 "Yes, Tom was a prety baby--all said so," and she 9lances across the room at d sunny-faced four year old; "but Willie is not like Tom. Willie's hair is light and eycs"-looking whistfully into the baby's face-''are dark, and so deep that when 1 look into them l am almost afraid-they have such q far away light, they seem to see something we cannot.'
 "Oh, nonsense! Don't think that. He'll grow up to be fine fellow. But, Kate, l wouldn't think so much about him; he's d dear good fellow, but l wouldn't worship him; it isn't right"
 "Asi if 1 could help it," the moth CT says, responsibility, pressing the slight form closer and looking into the dark eyes yealningly.
 A month passes away, and one day they stand beside q small, white casket, within which the ba- by is sleeping. Ah, the mothers eyes were sharp and when friends said, "What beautiful bright eyes he has," she saw the iar-away look and knew it as the light that was never on land or sea.
 "Oh, John, Johnp' she moaned, "I knew he wasn't long for this world, I could see it in his eyes. o, my pretty baby"
 "Yes, dear, you were right" says papa, and there is quiver in the firm voice; eff it had pleased God to have left him with us we would have cared for him tlIe best we could, but We must give him up, for it is His will, al,d He kLows what is hest for uS.
 "Yes, 1 know" and she stoops and cuts tiny whisp of hair from the baby's head. "Oh, John, you said l worshipped him. l did, o, l did. and God forgive me, l can't be sorry for it now, he was such a dear, pretty baby"
 Years pass on. Other babies are born. They are all pretty ha- bies-everyOne who sees them says that-but none are like the baby with far.away look. AS they grow up they love to gather around mothers chair and she never tires telling them of the dark.eyed baby who went to live with God. And when with childish curiosity they open the Bible to look at the pie tares, and find between the leaves a tiny whisp of hair ted With a white satin yihbon they touch It yorerently aud whisper beneath their breath: "The pretty baby"
 Years still pass on The child reu grow to be sturdy men and wo- men, and as the mother watches them she sometimes thinks: "lf he had lived he would have been such beautiful man,' and then she smiles and is glad that in heaven there is no time, and that no mat ter how the others may change, he is still the pretty baby.
 One day they gathered around her bed and looking into each eth CTS face, mourfUlly whisper:
 "She is dying"
 She stretches her thin hand to- wards the table on which the old Bible rests, and they Say:
 "The baby's hair"
 They place it in her hand. She kisses it tenderly and bright light comes into the dim eyes, and they cay. rWhat does she see?"
 She smiles and whispers: ''The pretty baby"
 They place the whisp of hair on her breast and the wrinkled hands upon 1t, and tenderly lay her by the side of the pretty haby.--De- troit Free Press.
 Tha children at Fort Smith were