The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware advertiser., 1827-03-01
From the Trenton Emporium.
TaE WIDOWED MOTHER.

"oh, mountain streams must ioveler be,
Which, where their waters rise,
Spring On immediate to the sea,
Scarce shown to mortal eyes:
Than those which glide with clouded tide,
Slow o'cT the wastes of earth,
Nor keep one trace of that hign place.
Which gave their pure waves birth"
Mr.. Granville had but recently settled in
Roxborough. and was about commencing
business with aattering prospects of success,
when he was suddenly prostrated by vio-
lent disease against which the natural
strength of his constitution. though in the
prime and yigor of his days, afforded but a
feeble defence. He died the sixth day after
the attack-and they buried him in quiet
corner of the village churchyard, beneath
the shade of young willow, and, as it was
in summer, the fresh turf with which they
decked his grave, soon exhibited a luxurant
vegetation.
A wife and two lovely children were left
behind; and they who have felt what such
bereavement is, alone know something of the
bitterness of the trial which that widowed
mother was called to endure--and to en-
tlure alone; for her infant orphans were too
young to know the full amount of the loss
they had sustained They wept with her;
but theirs were tears of sympathy. They
sometimes asked, indeed, why their dear
papa staid away SO long, and If he would
never come home, to bring them play things
and claim the compensation OF a kiss again
but when they saw the mother always an
swcred their inquiries with food of tears,
as she clasped them in her arms, they wept
with her again and again. and ceased to ask
these questions, which seemed, they could
scarce tell why, SO painful. She used to
lead them to the grave, often, in the cool and
shadowy evening; and they at last UNDER
stood that their papa lay there, and that he
would, never come back again--and then
their little hearts would swell--but griefisa
transient emotion in the infantile breast.
| Mrs. Granville, however, had still much
to be thankful for. She was left with
comfortable income, many kind friends, and
pretty rural homeland the natural forti-
tuae of her nature in time trumphed over
her grief, and her widowed heart found
comfort in her pretty orphans-round them
her affections clung--and in devoting herself
to their care and education, she again be-
came contented and happy.
think it was about four years after the
loss of her husband, that her eldest child
lovely girl, sickened. She watched by it
day and night, with that intense anxiety,
which, while it pervades the very soul, fears
to entertain suspicion of danger. This
heart suspense was OF long dura-
tion. But the child grew worse and worse,
and she at last received the sad warning to
prepare to give it up She clasped her hand
on her burning brow when she heard it, and
exclaimed Is there indeed danger-can
Cornelia die! But she still clung to one
fond hope---it absorbed every thought--and
cung to it even for a time after the little in-
nocent had closed its weary eyes, and sunk
gently and softly, without a sigh, into its
last long slumbcr. Then she thought size
should never be reconciled to the world a.
gain.--She retired to her chamber when the
funeral obsequies were over, and brooded
over her sorrows, till melancholy blaEched
her cheek, and almost bewildered her heart.
Cornela's little 5yothcr was now left to
wander to the church yard alone, he often
went to her grave beside his fathers He
only distinctly remembered her.-But ere
flower had sufficient time to blossom on
that fresh mound. he was laid in sickness on
the bed from which his departed sister had
, been carried. This reused up the mother
from, i,ep sf,fitrde ,pd al h,r r.. q