The northern galaxy. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1844-1848, 1845-06-25

stood near as be.ore-the Ammonoosuck !
leaped and murmured as formerly. His
mother was there. But the sun seemed 10
be in an eclipse-a gloom rested upon every
thing. Then there was iuneral-it was
his brothers. They were carrying him 10
the little graveyard-but before they got
there, there was another funeral. Ii was
that OF Laura Hill Then the vision chang
Jed, and he himself was to be buried in the
coffin with his brother. He could feel ihat |
cold touch OF the oorpse-but he himselfwas I
alive, and knew that he was alive. while |
they were screwing dt wn the ffin-id, and
while they were filling up the grave.
How long he slept, James did not know;
but when he awoke he perceived that he was
in ships cabin, and Il man standing at the
side of his berth with kindness in his looks.
He had been discovered probably the next
day by the ship, and taken oii'ih raft us was
supposed, dead. But when it was found
that he still breaihed, the captain had him
carried TO Lis own berth, and had every pos
sible attention paid 10 him. 1t was too or
three days before he so far revived as 10 be
able 10 communicate his story-and great
indeed was the interest felt Tor him when it
was known that he had been left in the fore
castle of the White Dove wnen she was
wrecked as above related. The ship which
picked him up was out war bound, and hence
all hope Of his immediate return home was
cut of.
| In the meantime, the long-boat, with the
captain and crew of the White Dove, had
safely reached New York-and uncommon
| " deep was the interest lelt in this catastro-
I phe. The story, too, reached the White
Mountains, and the widow learned from Il
sure messenger, even from letter from the
captain, that she was childless. When the
letter came the widow was alone. 1t had
black seal, and she could not open it. She
sent for Laura, the lily Of the mountains,
knowing that no one could weep with her as
she could They sat down alone to read
the letter. 1t waskind and feeling. ltspoke
in the highestterms of the character and con
duct Of the young men. The widow shed
the most tears-but the countenance ofLau-
re was deadly pale. She was always deli
cate-but now she looked uncommonly IN
well. She spoke of him-his character
his prospecis-the horrible death to die in
the wreck,-she wished they had even lock
Of their hair. There is always something
mysterious in woman. We know that we
see and know but little Of what passes with
in. When man is greatly moved he RACES.
or Groans, or finds ease in speaking out what
he feels-& we are in constant fear that he will
say too much. But when woman has the
fountains of her soul moved we only see the
angel who troubles the waters. She feels,
but it is buried-and VIC mysteriously gaze,
and wonder what is passing within.
The next Sabbath found Mrs Howe in her
pew. She desired. in a note through the
minister, the sympathy and prayers OF her
neIGhbors and friends, in this day of hei ca
lamity. And when the man Of God lifted up
his voice TO offer petitions in her behalf, his
voice quivered-he laltered, and stopped
and the congregation sobbed as ifthey were
:. children. Every mountaineer ielt-aud
not accustomed 10 have their feelings excl
ted, OF TO give way 10 them, they had less
command over themselves, when once the
foodgates of sympathy were opened. Ii was
place, which might he called Bochim. All
{ noticed that Laura Hill was not present
and no one wondered that she was not.
Nearly year after this, Mrs. Howe went
to spend an afternoon at the bedside of Lau-
ia. She had been unweIl for some time
The disease which is the destroying angel
Of this country-consumpt selected
her rs its victim Tha widow often sat by
her bed all day. and during the long hours
, of the night-She knew that she must die
but she was calm patient and resigned, and
had learned where TO look for righteousness
and sal Sation. The Book OF God was never
beyond herreach-and her sweet voice was
often heard at midnight, singing The song Of
redeeming love. Sometimes at the earnest
request Of Mrs Howe, who always rewarded
her with tears. she would sing that exquisite
song bp Mrs. Hcmans-a song which, iwell
sung. can never faii to draw tears from the
eyes OF those who enter into lis mean
ing.
Thou art come from the srir;land, thou bird
Thou art come fromthe Spiri; land
Through the dark pine groves let Thy voice lie
And tell to the shadowy band. lheard,
We know that the bowers are green and fair,
In the light of that summer shore;
And We know that the friends we have lost are
there
They are ihere-and they weep no more
But tell us, thou bird ofIhe solemn stain,
Can those we have loved lorget7
We call, and they answer not again,
o say, do they love us yet?
On Mrs. Howe's return to her cottage, at
the close of the afternoon. she found man
sitting on the great fiat stone used for Il horse
b0ck-the very spot where her boys used to
sit and play for hours. lie hardly looked up,
but was evidently weeping. She wentby him;
and To- two seamen's chests were in the door
yard. She turned back, and the stranger
rushed towards her, utterins the name of
James p a shrek, which echoed from the
mountain side. was her answer. Had the
gave opened, and the sheeted dead come up
to life, she could not been more amazed: for
she had supposed, withOutany shadow of pos
s:oiity to the contrary, that her sons had been