Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 October 1884 — How My Baby Died. [ARTICLE]

How My Baby Died.

The doctor said it was a severe cold, and prescribed for it. He went away and returned again in ah hour without being called. Then 4- knew my baby boy was more ill than I had thought, and when he went away I followed him out of the house and into the snow-bur-dened air, and said to him: “Doctor, tell me the truth. Will my baby die ? ? “It» is very ill,” he replied, “but there is a little hope.” Then 1 returned and looked again on that sweet face of my little boy. Where ( dimples had'been, Were hard, white lines of. pain. Where the nostrils had been such a soft and velvety pink,'* you could see the light shine through their walls, and every hair-like vein was blue almost to blackness. The little hands - which I was wont to feel patting my cheekshad lost their tender cunning, and were lying uselessly on its heaving bosom, purple and clenched. I knew my baby was not for Jong: I knew that even the angels, who r loved it a little better than I, were waiting to take it away. I saw the death-dew stand in diamond beads upon its alabaster brow and felt the dampening curls, that clustered like falling sunshine where I had been wont to kiss it. I heard the faint gurgling in my baby’s throat, and saw no recognition in its eyes, once so soft and blue, and laugh-, ing, but now glassy with the film of death. They were looking through the roof of my humble cottage, into the realms where the Recording Angel sat, with the book of life open before him, at a page as white as snow, save where the name was written at the top—-the name of my darling boy. The snowflakes ceased to fall, and the glad sunlight from the west came in through the window and fell upon my baby’s bed, flooding it with a radiance and glory like that which trembles on the golden tiles of heaven, and then the sun sank out of view, and in the gray twilight my baby lay, struggling body and soul, flie one with the other for the mastery. As the shadows deepened 1 saw the bony hand of death reach out from among the pillows, and clutch my baby by the throat. I tried to fight the monster back, but he would not loose his hold. The lamps were lighted, and I saw my baby smile, as if it Saw a face more welcome, kind, and sweet than the face of her that bore it, bending over its cradle —the face of Him who said: “Suffer little children to-come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom—ef--(-rod- wvbile it yet; smiled, the soul went out from the tabernacle of clay, and left the temple tenantless and cold, but beautiful as life itself. My baby was dead, and I was clasping to my heart only the clay image of its soul, now winging its flight through the boundless depths of blue that lie between the grave and the throne of God. Is it a wonder that men worship idols of clay when clay is so grandly beautiful as this ? I slept and dreamed, and as I dreamed, I saw the pearly gates swing open, and I knew my baby reached home. I caught a glimpse of heaven, and saw it fly straight to the arms of Him who died upon the cross, and ere the gates were closed the angel with the book drew his wand across the page and held it up to the others, and--I saw that naught but the name of my boy was there, written in characters of shining gold; while all the rest was pure and white, and as the gates swung shut, the harps of millions sang a glad refrain.— Exchange.