Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1888-12-26

the tomorrow" We anticipate, we
dive into futurity, and we drink in the
happiness of the present in long
draughts, instead of slipping it drop by
drop. But let the baby fall Ill and we
are brought to realizing sense of his
preciousness.
To feel the strength of the chords
of affection which bind you to him,
you have but to have the crushing
fear thrust upon you that you may see
him snatched away from you. He only
fully realizes the depth OF river who
has escaped drowning in it.
Can you remember the morning
when, having thrown down the cover
lids of the crib, you saw his little pale
face on the pillow, with its hollow, half
closed eyes? He seemed to look at you
as through veil; for the first time he
had no smile for his papa. You said
''good morning." and he made no reply.
His face expressed nothing but sadness
then the heavy eyelids closed again.
You took his transparent little hands in
yours; they were hot and feverish, and
you covered them with kisses;
but he did not respond to the touch
of your lips by the slightest movement.
Then you turned around to find your
wife weeping behind you. At this mo-
ment a cold chill runs through you
from head to foot, and you are seized
with the conviction that great calam-
ity is about to fall upon you. The next
instant you bend over the crib and turn
down the covers again, hoping that you
were mistaken, or that some miracle
had been wrought since you looked at
your boy before; but you turn away
quickly choked with tears; then you try
f>J 10 10 Ia IL ~
awaken in him a wish for something,
but in vain-he remains immovable,
exhausted, not even glancing about, in
different to everything that you say,
Indifferent even to yourself.
How short time might elapse ere
this little being might be struck with
death! A few hours only.
Will it take that long? Five minutes,
perhaps. You feel that life has very
slight hold in the frail little body,
body too delicate to bear much suffer-
ing. You realize that existence is but
breath and exclaim, ooh, if this breath
should be his last" Suddenly he
moans-he can do no more. It seems
as though some one was enveloping him,
dragging him from you. Then you ap-
preach the bed and fold him closely
in your arms, as though you could inn
His clothing is wet with perspiration;
his lips discolored with fever; his mouth
is wide open. This poor little mouth is
the same one that greeted you with JOY
Gus shouts of laughter yesterday, and
these are the same lips that yes
terday pressed kisses upon yours.
All the joyousness, laughter, fun, frolic
and happiness of the past rushes
through your mind at the sound of his
painting breath, while great hot tears
roll slowly down your cheeks. And
then, just as ray Of sunlight crosses
the chamber, you hear plaintive cry,
and bending forward you see the little
drawn face; his eyes stare at you,
ness, immobility and silence over
shadow him.
The remembrance of q moment like
his remains in the hearts of those who
have loved through lie; and even in old
age, when time has softened grief, and
other joys and other SORROWS have filed
out the days, thoughts of the lost dar-
ling will come at twilight when we sit
alone. We see again the fire
burning in the baby's room, the table
laden with the baby's food and medi-
cine; all the paraphernalia that sick
ness DT1ngS, MS uItlo ClOLneS carefully
folded on a chair; in one corner his
neglected toys. We see again his little
finger marks on the wall paper and
his pencil marks on the door; we see
him again running, jumping and throw
ing himself into our arms, and at the
some time we see him lying stiff and
cold under great white linen sheet.
Is this not true, dear grandmother
and you wipe away tear as you say,
"He would have been 40 years old had
he lived" And we know too, grand
mamma, that your heart still bieeds,
and that in the depths of your secreta-
ry, behind your jewels, and beside
packet of letters yellow with age, there
is little museum of holy relics. the last
shoes that he wore while playing in the
sand, the day he complained OF being
cold; some broken toys, dried branch
with withered leaves, little hat--his
last-trihes which are all the world to
you, poor woman! crumbs of comfort
tor your broken heart.
The ties which unite children TO their
parents unfasten; those which unite
parents to their children, break. With
them it is the Past that is obscured,
with us it is the Future that is obliter-
ated