The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-02-25
A GLoRIFIED DEATH.
How a little Girl Made Home For Her
Homeless Cousin.

How q Little Girl Made n Home For Her
Homeless Cousin.
There are lights that shine in the midst
of the darkest gloom, and, when they fail
upon the couch OF the dying, death be-
comes a gloritied scene and holy inspira-
ton touches the hearts OF the living. Not
long ago a little girl in this city was taken
sick with diphtheria, says the Council
Bluffs N0ppareI She had lost her
mother, and the father, having no home,
found place for his little daughter in a
family which was in no way related by
ties of blood. When the child was first
taken sick the father was notified that he
must take her away. But where could he
take her? Who would consent to receive
diphtheria into their homes?
The father had a brother living here
who had an only daughter of the same age
as the sick child, and he went to see him.
The two little girls were much attached to
each other, and when the fathers were
discussing the situation the sympathy of
the well child went out to her little suHer-
ing and homeless cousin, and she looked
up beseechingly into her fathers face and
pleadinglv asked TO let little Bessie be
brought TO their home and cared for IL
was Il startling proposition. The father
loved his own and he had no thought of
asserting to any act that would endanger
his daughters life, but there was some-
thing in the look and voice of the child
neither he nor his wife could resist They
both requested that the little sufferer he
brought TO them, and she was. Under
their care she recovered.
\ few days elapsed and their own loved
one, the little angel of their hearts, was
stricken down. 1t was a malignant at
tack and from the very first seemed hope
less. Oh, the agony OF the mother, the
grief of the father! Their only child,
their idol. brought to the portal OF death
through the consent they themselves had
given to the child's request made in behalf
her little cousin. What remorse. what
regrets forced their way with dark despair
into the souls of each as they watched hour
by hour over the couch of their darling
and realized the steady and certain APP
proach of the messenger OF death.
At last the moment came when hope
stole out, and all was dark. so dark. The
mother stood bending over the suffering
form of her child; the hot, scalding tears
from heart that was breaking dropped
like a rivulet of anguish upon the cheeks
of despairing sorrow The child was pass
ing into a state of Inconsistencies, from
which it could only awake with farewell
to its tenement of clay. when a light
shone down upon the dying face, and the
eyes opened and the lips moved. An ex-
preston Of divinity crept over the traces
of pain which the malady haG drawn over
every feature of youthful beauty in the
childish countenance. The mother bent
down to hear the message. Ii came in
looks as we'll as words. and was this
Dear mamma, don't cry for me. Remem-
Der, little Bessie will be with you. We
have made home for her You know she
had none, mamma. By-by, dear man.
ma, dear papa; an angel is waiting for
me, and the little one forgot the world
in a sleep that lasted till the angel took
her
What message this was to the mother,
the father, and the world. IL was God
speaking through a child that all who
heard it might understand that that life is
the happiest or that death the most
glorious which ia illumined by an unset
tish desire TO help Others and forget ones
self