The Portland gazette. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1818-1824, 1823-09-23
From the New Monthly Magazine.


There is something very sad in the death Of
friends. We seem to provide for orr own
mortality, and make up our minds to die.
We are warned by sickness, fever and ague,
and hundred dull infrmities; but when orr
.tricnds pass away, we lament them as though
we had considered them immortal.
lis perilous trust when a man ties his
hope to 50 frail thing as woman. They are
so gentle, so afectionate, SO true 10 sorrow, so
untired and untiring; but the leaf withers not
sooner, the tropic lights fade not more abrupt
ly into darkness. They die and are taken
from US, and we weep; and our friends tell
Us that il is not wise to grieve, for all that
which is mortal perisheth.-They do not know
that
: We grieve the more. because we grieve in val n.
off our grief could bring back the dead, il
would be stormy and loud-we should dis
turb the sunny quiet Of day-we should star
tie the dull night from her repose. But our
hearts would not grieve as they grieve now,
when hope is dead within US.
Il remember, even as grey-headed man
remembers, clearly aud more distinctly than
the things Of yesterday, that which happened
long ago. | remember, when | was about
four years of age, how | learned to spell and
was sent daily ia the servants hand to little
day school, to fight my way, (amidst score
Of urchins) through the periIs of the
alphabet had no ambition then, no ha-
tired, no Observation-Disclosures. l had no organs
for such things. Well, when my fifth year
was running into my sixth year. was busted
with parallels and scripture history, 1.-THE only
food which nourished my infant mind.) was
much noticed by young person. female
] was at that time living with an old relation
in H-shire, and | still preserve the recol
lection Of Miss RS tender condescension to
wards me. She was a pretty delicate girl
and very amiable and became Eyes it is true
for remember the strong feelings of the time
enamoured Of her. My love lad the fire o
passion, but not the clay which drags it down
wards il partook Of the innocence Of my year
while it etherialized me.-Whetber il wa
the divinity Of beauty that stung me, or rath
er that lifted me above the darkness and i'm
maturity of Childhood know not; but m
feelings were any thing but childish. B,
some strong intuition, felt that there was
difference Il knew not WHAT that called fort
an extraordinary and impetuous regard.
''She was the first object, Save my mother
that ever attached myself TO. ! had bette
have loved tiower-a weed. For when
knew her she had the seeds of death within
Iher. Consumption had caught her; his sickl
hands were upon her, like the canker on Tia
| rose, and she drew out perilous unearthl
bloom. The hues and vigour Of life wer
flushing too quickly through her cheek--(ye
how pale she was at times--she wasted
month in an hour year 10 a month; and a
last died in the stormy autumn TINE, when tn
breath Of summer had left her.
i "The last time ever saw her, was, as we
as | can recollect, ia October, or late in Ser
TENDER. was told that Miss r. was i'll, wa
very i'll, and that perhaps might not see he
again. Death could not Of course comprt
bend but understood perfectly what was
perpetual absence, from my pretty FRIEND
Whether wept or raYed, or how il was, d
not know but was taken to visit her.
was a cold day, and the red and brown leave
were plentiful on the trees; and it was in th
afternoon when we arrived at the old-fashioT
ed country house, which stood at some distsnc
J from the high-road. The sun was near h
!, lsetting but the whole Of the wide west W.
; Illuminated, and threw crimson and scarls
IcolOurs on the windows, over which hung
cloud ofvine stalks, aud changing leaves tn;
dropped by scores on every summons Of III
blast. There she sat in parlour full Of 6oE
ers--among China roses and glittering ic
plants, and myrtIes which no longer blossom
Cd. She was sitting (as entered) 10 larg
, armchair covered with white-hke fade
: Flora, and was looking at the sun; but 81
lturnad har hrioht and Canfie looks On mo an
. the pink bloom dimpled on her cheek as 81
smiled and gave me welcome. ! look on he
: as it seems, evea now through what vast
; Of years see her cheek at first like lilly
: Just tinged, but afterwards deepening into Il
, ;ightest red, from the agitation perhaps
I, meeting with visiters. The flowers that wei
around looked as fragile as herself-Summ'
! companions. But the wild autumn was
d round her and them, and the winter himse
g was coming. He came almost before his tim