The Clergyman's Wife and Other Sketches/Angel Children

by Anna Cora Mowatt

Angel Children.

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o whom is the hour of twilight so sweet as to children? Too tired to play, and yet unreconciled to the nightly trial of being put to bed, children, half the world over, have simultaneously raised their tender voices, and consecrated this hour to story-listening.

At twilight, five sisters were cosily gathered around the dear paternal hearth. "Sisser, tell me a tory!" said little Virginia, climbing on my knee and circling my waist with her tiny arms until the dimpled hands met, and then nestling her curly head upon my shoulder, "Tell me a pretty tory!"

There is no refusing our petted Jenny.

"What must the story be about, Jenny?"

"Oh, about fairies and dood children."

"Shall I tell you about three little sisters whom I knew, who are all angels now, and shall I tell you of a heavenly dream I once had about them?"

"Yes, about angels; angels will do as well as fairies."

"Well, then, listen. One Christmas morning I was sitting in church amongst a number of ished friends; the church was gayly decorated with evergreens; the Star of Bethlehem shone on the eastern wall; the Sunday School children had sung an exquisite hymn, written for the occasion; our beloved pastor, in his holiest mood, had spoken words of promise and encouragement; had breathed upon us 'soft rebukes in blessings ended;' around him were hopefully happy faces, but amongst the cheerful crowd I missed one dear, familiar countenance. A father sat surrounded by his children, but their mother was absent. She was at home watching over a little daughter who was very ill. The family lived a short distance from the city, and after service I drove out to see the sick child. Among my Christmas presents was a basket made of moss and filled with green-house flowers,—camelias, heliotropes, orange blossoms, jasmines, roses, etc. The handle, too, was woven of flowers, embedded in moss. I thought the refreshing sight of the flowers might do little Clara good, so I stopped on the way for this lovely floral gift. At the door of Clara's home I was greeted by a host of little ones, and first they took me into the parlor, where stood a Christmas tree, so tall that it nearly reached from the floor to the ceiling. The spreading branches were loaded with gifts, and waxen lights were scattered about amongst the smaller boughs. The children delightedly exhibited their abundant Christmas presents, and they led me up stairs to their mother's room. As they Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/109 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/110 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/111 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/112 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/113 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/114 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/115 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/116 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/117 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/118 Page:The Clergyman's Wife.djvu/119 her little arms to twine them round her neck, and Clara and Lily rejoiced over the coming of baby Anna. Indeed there was more joy amongst all the children at her arrival than they had felt before, for she had passed through that golden gate so young she had fewer earthly stains about her.

"'Let us crown her with flowers!' said one. 'Let her play with our white lamb!' said another. 'Let us take her to sail in the lily-boats!' cried another. 'Let us ask our dear guardian to sing to her!' Little Anna was tenderly laid on the lap of the guardian angel, and the hearts of the three sisters overflowed with perfect joy.

"That angel was once on this earth, a heavenly, minded girl. She had loved young children very dearly, and, when she died, her occupation in heaven was to instruct and watch over the children and infants who came from earth to that paradisiacal garden. If the mother, who mourned so deeply over her three lost treasures, could but have seen them there, would she not have exclaimed—

'———Content,Our love was well divided; Its sweetness following where they went,Its anguish stayed where I did.

'Well done of God to halve the lot,And give them all the sweetness; To us the empty room and cot—To them the heaven's completeness.

'To us these graves—to them the rowsThe mystic palm trees spring in; To us the silence in the house,To them the choral singing!'

"And how does Jenny like the story?" I asked.

Jenny looked up with thoughtful eyes. "But do you believe that little Clara and Lily and Anna went to a garden like that, when they died, and were taught by an angel, and were so very happy?"

"I do believe so!"