The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1892-06-04
THE PARSONS BABY,
BY Francis Easton.

Every white flower had been cut in
the village. The parsons baby was
dead. The news of fire never ira
veled faster through the main street.
Even the burly saloon keeper, the
one rum-seller in the place, who looked
upon the parson as his natural enemy,
when told the fatal news, exclaimed: !:
"By Godl that's rough! That's
rough
The cobbler's crippled daughter
sent her one white rose. She had
wondered, as it grew, who could be
worthy of its beauty.
Small groups of children stopped on
their way to school, and were led into
the dim parlor to look upon the beauti-
full upturned face, which for the first
time refused them a smile. One of
them asked to touch the dimpled hands
which were folded over the little heart
which had known the worlds love,
but not its bitterness.
Death had come suddenly, and his
aspect must have been less terrible
than the children had been led to be-
heve, for there was no hint of resis-
tance in the peaceful face; but the
grim shadow was still thrown across
the room, and 1t awed the children,
although it could not make them feel
afraid.
l don't believe he likes it so dark
here, whispered little Betty Parks.
And the parsons wife threw open
the blinds, and the June sunshine shot
past her drawn white face and flooded
the room. 1t danced upon the tiny
yellow curls until they seemed to move
with life.
He likes that, l am sure, and little
Betty smiled, and her voice grew strong
er, as if the light OF the Resurrection
had already driven the blacklist Shad-
ows from the tomb.
Betty is right, said the parson, try
ing to smile.
As the children passed out they met
tall IanI Deacon Perkins and little fat
Deacon Potter. They knew that the
two deacons had not spoken to each
other-lo, not even after passing the
bread and the wine on communion Sun
day-since the las: Presidential cleo
ton. Yet chance had brought them
at the same moment to the parsons
gate, and neither was willing to retreat
The children watched them as they
passed up the gravel walk without ex-
changing word and went into the
house.
Mean old things! exclaimed little
Betty. "I should think they'd be
ashamed O. themselves not to speak
when it makes the parson feel SO
bad"
In moment the deacons were in
the presence of the still, tiny form.
Small as its proportions, pulseless as its
heart, il represented that which man
has reverenced and feared since the hu-
man mind and heart began to think
and feel-innocence and death.
Even as tactless men as the deacons
were silent before the anguish which
could awe their small souls, although
they failed to comprehend it but by its
power the lank deacon was led back
many years, and he saw himself young
man, no older than the parson, stand
ing beside little form whence the
spirit had taken It's flight, and the par.
sons face recalled it as it had not beef
brought back for years. The deacon
dry heart rustled little in his breas
as he drew near the small white shape
and 10 !! memory mad saved each tear
he shed so long ago, and now sh,
poured them freely on his parched ole
heart, and for the hour it became tresl
again.
The fat little deacon, seeing that h,
fingered near the babe, and wishing no
to be outdone in loyalty to his parsor
by a deacon who could desert his poll
hcal party In its darkest hour, likewise
advanced with gentle step, and stoof
near the silen. babe.