The Home Mission | Page 4

be its heavenly mother? Oh! I will
love and care for it with a tenderness and devotion equal to, if not
exceeding yours."
Even while the mother spoke there was a change. She saw before her
other objects of affection. There was her husband, sitting in deep
dejection, sorrowing for the loss of one who was dear as his own life;
while three children, the sight of whom stirred her maternal heart to its
profoundest depths, lay sleeping in each other's arms, the undried tears
yet glistening on their lashes.
The wife and mother stretched forth her hands toward these beloved
ones, eager to be with them again and turn their grief into gladness. But,
in a moment, there passed another change. The pleasant home in which
her children had been sheltered for years, no longer held them; the fold
had been broken up and the tender lambs scattered. One of these little
ones the mother saw, sitting apart from a group of sportive children,
weeping over some task work. The bloom on her cheek had faded--its
roundness was gone--the light of her beautiful eyes was quenched in
tears. And, as she looked, a woman came to the child and spoke to her
harshly. She was about springing forward, when another scene was
presented. Her first-born, a noble-spirited boy, to whose future she had
ever looked with pride and pleasure, stood before her. Alas! how
changed. Every thing about him showed the want of a mother's care
and considerate affection; and from his dear, young face had already
vanished the look of joyous innocence she had so loved to contemplate.
Again the mother was in the presence of the angel-maiden, to whose
loving arms a good God had confided the babe, which, in his wisdom,
he had removed from the earth. And the angel-maiden, as she looked
first at the babe in her arms and then at the mother, smiled sweetly and
said--
"He is safe here; will you not let him remain?"

And, with a gushing heart, the mother answered, "Not for worlds would
I take him with me into the outer life of nature. Oh, no! He is safe--let
him remain."
"And you will return to those who still need your love and care?"
"Yes, yes," said the mother, earnestly. "Let me go to them again. Let
me be their angel on earth."
And she bent hastily to the heaven-born babe, kissing it with tearful
fondness.
There came now another change. The mother was back again in her
chamber of sorrow; and undried tears were yet upon her cheeks. But
she was comforted and reconciled to the great affliction which had been
sent for good from heaven.
Those who saw Mrs. Freeland in the first wild grief that followed the
loss of her babe, wondered at her serene composure when she came
again among them. And they wondered long, for she spoke not of this
Vision of Consolation. It was too sacred a thing to be revealed, to any
save the companion of her life.

THE STEP-MOTHER.

THERE are few positions in social life of greater trial and
responsibility than that of a step-mother; and it too rarely happens that
the woman who assumes this position, is fitted for the right discharge
of its duties. In far too many cases, the widower is accepted as a
husband because he has a home, or a position to offer, while the
children are considered as a drawback in the bargain. But it sometimes
happens, that a true woman, from genuine affection, unites herself with
a widower, and does it with a loving regard for his children, and with
the purpose in her mind of being to them, as far as in her power lies, a
wise and tender mother.

Such a woman was Agnes Green. She was in her thirty-second year
when Mr. Edward Arnold, a widower with four children, asked her to
become his wife. At twenty-two, Agnes had loved as only a true
woman can love. But the object of that love proved himself unworthy,
and she turned away from him. None knew how deep the heart-trial
through which she passed--none knew how intensely she suffered. In
part, her pale face and sobered brow witnessed, but only in part; for
many said she was cold, and some even used the word heartless, when
they spoke of her. From early womanhood a beautiful ideal of manly
excellence had filled her mind; and with this ideal she had invested one
who proved false to the high character. At once the green things of her
heart withered and for a long time its surface was a barren waste. But
the woman was yet strong in her. She must love something. So she
came forth from her heart-seclusion, and let her affections,