The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1889-11-21
MY CHILDHOOD.

MY CHILDHOOD.
NY remembrance Of early child
hood is dim and shadowy. A white
house with green blinds. large rooms
with soft carpets, front yard with
pretty flowers, small common with
great trees, nice garden with red
apples, neat stable with two horses,
and a red cow with big eyes-such
is the recollection of my childhood
home
[ remember distinctly that the
nurse had dark hair, black eyes, and
heavy hands. [ was under her care
most of the time, and her very image,
as it comes to me through the open
door of departed years, seems hate
full She probably did not under
stand me, and I did not understand
her. If l had known her later in
life, my opinion of her might have
been different My father was tall,
dark, silent man. He was SO abb
sorbed in business that / seldom saw
him except at meal time, or on the
Sabbath. He was a kind man, a
good man, a Christian man.
But my mothers image is more
distinct than any other that has sur
vived my childhood years. She
never moved round the house like
other women, seldom rode in her
carriage; but sat in her great easy
chair, sometimes sewing, sometimes
reading; always cheerful, always
beautiful
Her face looked like marble, clear,
pure, transparent. Her eyes had a
strange depth of meaning which I
shall never forget. 1t seemed to me
then as though I could see through
them up into Heaven. And to this
very day, when l think of an angel,
the form of my mother always rises
before me. Every morning when |
came down stairs l kissed my mother.
She always said; good morning,
Johnny" or "good morning, darling
and kissed me in return. At night |
kneeled beside her, repeated my two
prayers, kissed her goodnight, NAM
ma heard the kind voice say "good
night, Johnny" and then retired with
my mothers words and those of my
prayer strangely mingled together;
with her image and that of the Lord
Jesus scarcely distinguishable.
Once when [ went into her room
to bid her goodnight my father sat
by her side holding her hand. He
said to me very softly: Johnny, [
would not trouble mamma to night.
She is very sick; say your prayers to
Sarah"
She raised her hand, put it on my
head, and said: cit will not trouble
me, it may be the last time After
[ had repeated my two prayers as
usual, she asked me to remember and
say them every night as long as |
lived. I promised; I have kept that
promise AS stepped upon the low
stool to kiss her goodnight, she put
her arm around me, pressed me to
her heart, held me there long time,
and wept. At last she raised her
head and said: Johnny, I am going
away to be with the angels, and l
want you to be good boy, and mind
papa" 90, mamma. take me-" was
my childlike reply.
NO." she said: "you will stay
with papa. He will want you to love
him when / am gone"
"And who will take care of me,
and say goodnight to me, and hear
my prayers?" said I. Papa and the
angels and Jesus" she said in that
low sweet voice which l shall never
forget. ''When will you come back?"
I asked eagerly.
"Never," she replied calmly, "but
you may come and see me by and by,
if you are good. You will be man
then, I hope you will be good man."
I looked up at my father and said:
"Papa, you are crying?" had never
seen tears in his eyes before; I did
not understand it.
He took me in his arms, kissed me
again and again, and then said:
"Mamma is very sick, but we hope
she will stay with us a good while
longer"
The nurse came to carry me out,
and | said: Goodnight, papa, good
night, mamma" She carried me to
my bed, and in few minutes I was
asleep.
All the words, the thoughts, the
circumstances of that sad evening
are wildly remembered, for they
were burned into my very soul be-
fore the next evening.
My mothers voice, SO sweet, so
soft, so much like that which I had
fancied the voice of Jesus to be; her
eyes so deep, so clear so heavenly;
her face, so serene, SO lovely, so
peaceful-these, together with the
tears of my father, which l then saw
for the first time-all these formed a