Martinsburg gazette. [volume] (Martinsburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1833-1855, 1840-12-10


chamber made me very sorrowfaI, but
went to the he'd, turned down the linen,
and laid my HAND caressingly on the pale
face which lay so white aud mo,ionless in
the dim light. II was cold as ice. drew
back atlfighted, and stealing from the
room, sa. down alone, wondering and full
OF dread.
They buried her beneath a lofty tree
on the high bank of river. A water
fall raises its eternal anthem near il, and
the sunset filings its las, golden shadows
among the long grass that shelters her.
! remember il all---the grave with its new
ly broken sod--the coffin pluccd on the
brink. The clergyman, with his black
surplce sweeping the earth, and the con.
course of neighbors gathered round the
grave, each lifting bis hat revesen,ly as
the solemn hymn sweled on the air, al-
swered by the lofty anthem surping up
from the waterfall, and the breeze ruslllng
through the dense boughs Of the gloomy
tree. Then came the grating OF ihecoEiin
as II was lowered into its narrow bed, the
dull, hollow sound Of falling earth, and
those most solemn words Of " dust 10 dust,
and ashes to ashes" With mourn'll dis
tinctncss were all these things Impressed
on my young mind; but my mothers last
prayer is written more forcibly than ail,, in
characters that but deepen with maturity.
Ii has fingered about my heuu a blessing
and safeguard, pervading i; with music
that cannot die. Many times when tho
heedlessness Of yopth would have led me
INTO error, has tho, sweet voice, now busll-
ed forever, iutermingIed with my thoughts
and, like the rosy Ink Of fairy chain.
drawn me from my purpose. On, when
my brow has been wrea,hed with GoweIs,
for the festival, when my cheek has been
flushed, and my eyes have sparkied With
anticipated pleasure, have caught the re-
Election of those eyes in the mirror, and
the thought Of the look which +, stoj upon
me when mother died--that broken sup
plcation TO Heaven has come back to my
memory, the clustering roses hasa been
torn from my head sad aud gentle mem
cries have drunk the unnatural glow FROM
my cheeks, aud my thoughts have baen
carried back 10 my lost parent, aud from
her. up to tho Heaven she nhabils. The
festival and all IFS attractions have been
lost in gentle reflections, and nave been
" delivered from temptation" Again,
when the sparkling wine-cup has almost
bathei my lips, amid mcrriment and
smiles and music, has the last sad PRAYER
ofny mother seemed 10 miaglo with its
ruby contents, and have put away the
goblet, that " might not be led into temp
tation.' When my hand has rested IN
that Of the dshonorable, and trcmbed 10
the touch of him who says in his heart,
there is no God, rs that voice seemed To-
flow with his Turing accents. have listened
TO it, and fled as from tbs serpent Of my
native forests.
Again and again, when the ,hrobbings
Of ambition have almost filled my soul
and the praises Of my fellow men have
become precious incense, the still smell
voice of my mothers prayer has trembled
over each heart string, and kindled il to
more healthy music. In infancy, youth
and womnnhood, that prayer has been to
me holy remembrance--a sweet thought
full Of melody, not the less beautiful that
there is sadness in il.