Southern Argus. [volume] (Columbus, Miss.) 1834-1842, 1839-05-21
Even from tho tomb the voice Of nature cries,
Even IN our ashes live their wonted fires.''

Even from tho tomb the voice Of nature cries
Even IN our ashes live their wonted fires.''
There IS something dreadful, yet beau.
ful, ID consumption. Ii comes stealing.
on SO softly and SO silently. It comes,
Toe, in the garb Of mockery and deeep.
ton, and clothes its victims in beautiful
garments for the grave. The hectic flush,
the snowy brow, the brilliant eye; who
could believe that these were. deaths pre-
cursors, the signet of the conqueror II
invests the patient with preternatual pa
tience and sweetness under suffering,
keeping alive, at the same time, in her
breast the illusions of hope. Even ia her
moments OF. keenest suffering, she looks
forward to days of returning happiness,
and while the worm is forever preying at
the core, and her slender form becomes
each day more feeble and attenuate, she
halls before her a gilded prospect, and the
mind and spirits are bo1yant with the
thought. But when the final struggle has
at last commenced, how sublime is the
spectacle! To behold the immortal
mind so calm, so tranquil, and so triumph
ant; waxing brighter and brighter, while
the tenement which contains it is but a
poor feshlcss skeleton to behold the eye
beaming with undiminished lustre toward
the objects of its affection, until the soul
at last bursting the charnal vault which
has too long confined it, takesone triumph
ant bound. Then is the body still and 81
lent. The feather is unrufled by the
breath, and the glass retains its polish; for
dust has returned to dust again, and the
spirit untd God who gave it.
TWAS tempestuous night, The rain
poured down in torrents. Tie lightnings
cleaned luridly. At midnight, I entered
the apartments A solitary taper CLEAN
ed dis,nally on the hearth. The forms of
those in the room appeared ike gloomy
shadows, fitting TO and fro. A stlfed sob,
and the ticking of watch on the table,
were the only sounds and they struck
like d bearded arrow to my heart. OBJ.
served her hand reckoning. Her head
was raised with pillows. A smile shot
from her glazing eye. She cssayed to
speak. bent down my head with ea-
gerness, to catch the last whsperings Of
her voice. There was a pause. She
made signal to those about her to re.
press their emotions, as they valued her
last legacy. The sobs ceased, the groans
were scarcely audible, and the tears stood
still upon the cheek the mourner. sAh!
that is kind, she began in voice as soft
as music. Nature must have her course.
The fountains of grief were too full.
They burst the barriers which prudence
would have fain erected, and poured forth
IN torrent, sweeping all before them.
A cry, long, loud, and piercing, filed the
apartment. She cast back look OF
sorrowful reproach.
She arose in the couch. A pafoxysm
of coughing seized her. She writhed for
a moment in conyulsiye agonies, and then
fell back upon the pillow. A CLEAN OF
lightning, bright, dazzling, appalling. shot
through the easement. She was DEAD
Let US pray exclaimed the reverend
pastor; and with one accord the assem-.
bly, knelt, whae, at the noon of night, he
offered up ferVent prayer. 1t was short,
but clothed in the poetic language of the
scriptures. Itspoke Of the silver chord
being loosed, and the golden bowl being
broken. 1t was finished. We arose
from our knees, cast one look at the ema-
ciated form of the departed, and left the
apartment.