Litchfield enquirer., 1834-11-06
DEATH AND BEAUTY.
BY GEORGE ID. PRENrIcE,

'"'t HE'SO O'Cu1uIuS OuI uIS SOUL upon the field of battle--the miserable convict standing upon the scaffold, with deep curse quverng on his lips-I have viewed Death in al! its forms of darkness and ven- geance. with fearless eye-but never 1 could look on woman, young and lovely { woman, fading away from the earth in beautiful and accomplishing melancholy, without feeling the very fountains of life turn [" tears and dust. Death is always terrible--but, when form of angel beau ty is passing off to the silent land of sleep- CTS, the heart feels that something lovely is ceasing from existence, and broods; with a sense of utter desolation, over the lone- y thoughts that come up like spectres from the grave, to haunt our midnight musings.
 Two years ago, I took up my residence for a few weeks, in a country village in the eastern part of New-England. Soon after my arrival. I became acquainted with a lovely girl, apparently about seventeen years of age. She had lost the idol of her pure hearts purest love, and tho shadows ] of deep and holy memories were resting like the wing of death upon her brow. ] first met her in the presence of the mirth- tul. She was indeed creature to be wor- shipped-her brow was garlanded by the young years sweetest flowers-her yellow locks were hanging beautifully and low upon her bosom--and she moved through the crowd witt, such floating and unearth- ly grace, that the bewidered gazer almost looked to see her fade away into the air, like the creation of some pleasant dream. She seemed cheerful and even gay; yet saw that her gaety was but the mock of her feelings. She smiled, but there was something in her smile which told that its mourutul beauty was but the bright retlec- tioD of d tear-and her eyelids, at times, closed heavily down, as if struggling to re- press the tide of agony that was bursting ap from her hearts secret urn. She look ed as if she could have left the scene of feslivity, and gone out beneath the quiet stars, and laid her forehead down upon the fresh green earth, and poured out her stricken soul, gusll after gush, till it min- gled with the eternal fountain of life and purity.
 Days and weeks passed on, and that sweet girl gave me her confidence, and became 10 her as brother. She was was- ting away by disease. The smile upon
 
 of her voice became daily more weak and tremulous. On quiet evening in the depth of June, wandered out with her in the open air. 1t was then she first told me the tale of her passion, and ofthe blight that had come down like mildew upon her life. Love had been portion of her existence. Its tendrils had been twined round her heart in its earliest years, and when they were rent away, they left wound that flowed till alt the springs of her soul were blood. :" am passing away." said she, " and it should be SOL The winds have gone over my life and the bright buds of hope, and the sweet blos- son,s of passion are scattered down, and ne whitening in the dust. And yet cannot go down among the tombs without a tear. 1t is hard to take leave of the friends who love me, it is very hard to bid farewell to these. with whom have held commun- ion from childhood, and which from day to day have caught the color of my fife, and sympathised with its joys and sorrows That little grove where l have so often strayed with my buried love, and where al all times, even now the sweet tones ot hls voice seem to come stealing around me un- til the whole air becomes one intense and n,ournful molody-that pensive star, which we used to watch in it's early rising, and OH which my fancy can still picture his form looking down upon me, and beckoning me to his own bright home-every flower, and tree, and rivulet, on which the memory o1 our early love has set its undying seal. have become dear to me: cannot, without sigh, close my eyes upon them forever"
 
 have lately heard, that the beautiful
 girl of whom have spoken is dead. The close of her life was as calm as the failing of quiet stream-genlle as the singing 0 the breeze, tha, fingers for time around bed of roses, and then dies, "as | were
 from very sweetness" IL cannot be that earth is mans onl . abiding place. It cannot be, that our lit
 is bubble, cast up by the ocean of Eter ni,y to float moment upon the wave an then sink into darkness and nothingncss.- Else why is it that the aspirations wh'c leap like angels from the temple "i "u hearts, are forever wandering abroad uR satisfied! Why is it that the rainbow an'
 the cloud come over US with beauty Una is not of earth, and then pass oil and ieav - us to muse upon their faded loveflness !- Why is it, that the stars, which hold 'hel p festivals around the midnight throne. arr