The Middlebury people's press. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1841-1843, 1842-09-20
MISCELLANEOUS.
III A nm A H HI VEY.
LEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI, FRANCIS
BERRIAN,' ETC.


pressive and awful, and so indelbly engra
ven on my memory. lack words to de
scribe to you the mingled tenderness anc
dignity of the department of Hannah AL
awaited not. The last cold kiss of her DIV
ing father was impressed upon her lips, and
1t was not until he had breathed his lates
sigh, that, from mere physical grief anC
fatigue, she yielded afterward, and merged
the ministering angel in the weeping, suf
fering, and exhausted child. pass ovel
the funeral scene, and the successive attacks
and death of four of the five children, mere
ly remarking, that after the loss of the sec.
ond, my father came for me, and took me
from the house of death.
The mother and Hannah were the only
members of this unfortunate family tina,
were spared. My father, deeply interested
tor the survivors, as soon as they were so far
recovered from the same disease, which had
proved so fatal to the rest, as to be capable
OF being moved. came here with me, and
begged them, In the present solitary condi-
ton, TO return with him, and consider his
house their home. 1t is at the same time,
with the excusable worldly -mindedness of
a father, he gave me some cautions in re-
gard to the young orphan mourner, which 1
assured him where wholly unnecessary, land
which he also learned, by very slight &C
quaintance with the person in question.
In fact, she had not long resided in my
fathers family with her mother, before she
had acquired in his mind the same estimate
sh had ~ I L.
to believe, that he would now have been
pleased to have seen me paying suit for her
favor. But she remained in my view per-
son of character too elevated, ght almost
say holy; too much out of the common
range, and the ordinary weaknesses of hu-
manity; to be thought of by me in that
light. To be plain, and to do her and my
selfjustice. there would have been too much
incompatibility between US. Beside. had
been accustomed to think, that while she
evidently entertained a ssterly feeling to-
ward me,she could never have been brouo hit
to unite herself with the only child and heir
of her fathers patron, or 10 think of him in
a more intimate relation than had already
subsisted between US.
81 ought not to omit, that two or three
months after the death of her father, and
after the cholera had passed over the coun-
try like desolating whirlwind, and disap-
peared, and after sorrow had settled into a
calm and hallowed melancholy, on beau
tlful autumnal evening, when a train of
circumstances had softened the hearts of the
two mourners to sort of communicative
sadness, the mother and daughter alternate.
ly gave us the affecting details of the sick
ness and death of each of the four children,
three of whom deceased after left the
family.
George, the eldest of the number, was
the first who fell after his father; and he
was as remarkable for the calm and intrepid
dignity of his department, in his conflict
with the last enemy, as his father had been.
All the shrinking timidlty of his nature, in
this last trying emergency, seemed changed
to fearless and calculating frmness. His
mother was attacked, while he was falling
into the stage of collapse. He insisted for
a number of hours, after he was under the
influence of the disease, that he was in no
danger, and suffered no pain. When the
his mouth and eyes, and were spreading
over his frame, and in the most racking con-
tortlons OF spasm. when he could not but
see the estimate of his fate in the involun.
tary shudder of all who approached bis bed,
he was perfectly RATIONAL fearless, and COL
lected, and took such note of what was pas
sing, and such forethought in relation to the
m on 6 rba {. "
as he had never manifested before. There
was something almost fearfully sublime in
thus beholding a weak and yielding spirit
become so calmly president, so self. collec-
ted, and forgetful of self, at the dread mo
ment when it was about TO pass through the
change of death. They told him that his
mother had become warm, and that she was
considered out of danger. A delightful
smile played over his wan and sunken fea-
lures. He gave his last directions, and ut
tered his last words with his icy breath, with
calmness. my fathers said he,
was long struggle of agony. rejoice
that he is released from it. | have only
known, since he died, how loved him.
am going to join him. Oh ! if may be
permitted to descend from that holy and
happy abode, where arm sure | shall find
him. will be minlstering spirit to you
whom leave behind Twill infuse vigor,
and courage. and enterprise into your ma.
lures Kissing Hannah with ardor, for
she was the common favorite of all, he OBJ
served to her that he had no fear for the
family, so long as she was spared to them.-
As the other children came to his bed, he
gave them the most pointed charges to ex-
ercise more courage and frmness, assuring
them that he felt, in his own case, that to
die was not that fearful thing he had appre-
hended; and that the only point of impor-
lance was, during life, to discharge with
vigor and diligence its duties. He CON-
planned once or twice, that hand, as of
ice. was laid upon his heart. But mo.
ment afterward his countenance was again
cheerful and smiling, as he held forth his
arms toward the sky, exclaiming, l come
| come p and when they fell back, all of
him that was mortal was kneaded clod.
Sarah and Ruth were very beautiful