The scene changed as she spoke.  The boy, now grown up to manhood, once more stood before her.  Alas! how had the light of innocence faded from his countenance, giving place to a shadow of evil, the very darkness of which caused a cold shudder to pass through the mother’s frame.

“Look again,” said the maiden, as this scene was fading.

But the mother hid her face in her hands, and turned weeping away.

“Look again.”  And this time there was something so heart-cheering in the maiden’s voice, that the mother lifted her tearful eyes.  She was back again in the beautiful place from which she had gone forth a little while before, and her babe, beautiful as innocence itself, lay sweetly sleeping in the arms of the lovely maiden who had received it on its first entrance into heaven.  With a heart full of joy, the mother now bent over the slumbering babe, kissing it again and again.

“Grieving mother,” said the angel-maiden, in tones of flute-like softness, “God saw that it would not be good for your child to remain on earth, and he therefore removed it to this celestial region, where no evil can ever penetrate.  To me, as an angel-mother, it has been given; and I will love it and care for it with a love as pure and tender as the love that yearns in your bosom.  As its infantile mind opens, I will pour in heavenly instruction, that it may grow in wisdom and become an angel.  Will you not let me have it freely?”

“But why may I not remain here and 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.