The Columbian fountain., 1846-09-21
seisnls, Businsss anS @snsraI intsIliasnee
Rev. ]. WARD, Assistant Editor.
PRICE ONE CENT.


the magic light Of happiness creature
formed for love; and with all the gushing
tenderness of her heart, she layished her
affections: mothers love was not hers,
for the one who gave her the earliest smile
of. love slept in the little village burial
ground, and now by her sleeps her angelic
child, sweet Abba. Hers was a sad tale of
sorrow, disappointed losses, and blighted
affections. This world in its rudeness OF
buffetings and sin, was TOO inclement
cline for one like her, and so the angels
stopped down from Heaven, and bore her
silently with them into that blessed land
where tears and sighs are unknown; and
there she now blooms in celestial radi-
ance and in the ethereal atmosphere Of
love, inhales no obnoxious vapors, loaded
with sin and misery, This is the couch
of her last sleep! Sad! sad, to think that
one SO pure should be taken from US but
so it is, and we in submissive humility
must bow the head in silence and tears ;no,
Iwould not wish her back again--that fa-
ry one, to again pass through the scenes Of
trial, which were ever rporlion on earth;
better far rejoice that she is free, and that
her glad spirit now carols in the fulness of
bliss and joy. .aag
"Thy will be DONE" come sit thee down
and | will whisper in thy ear, the story Of
this flowers early blight A creature of
pure thought herself, she suspected no guile
in others, and the first truthful lessons she
received ofthe world Is perfdy and falsenesss
crushed the life-springs in her gentle heart,
and she languished in sorrow and sadness,
till death severed the chords of life, and
left her spirit free to soar to the realms of
Immortality. lN pf
Sad was the day that saw Miss Crawford
become bride OF William Bowen: and the
large drops Of rain which fell thick and
fast upon her bridal morn, told an ominous
gloom Of the future, and with fearful eyes
| gazed upon that fair creature as she lean
ed SO trustfully on the arm of her chosen
one, and the gentle smile which wreathed
her lips, as she vowed to love and honor,
toldihat bright losses and joyful an.icipa-
tons were in her heart !; and prayed that
they might never be surpassed by the dim
shadows of future years, which SO often
ClOSc III uOuUL anu udIhuCSS llIE' -
|fairest, loveiest and best. There were
weeping eyes and saddened brows in the
cottage home, when the loved one went
forth but love was around her, and she
smiled in gladness, for ah ! she knew not
that the syren voice of the tempter had al
lured her companion from the pathway of
virtue and truth but so it was.
Two years passed away, and the gentle
Mrs. Bowen returned home-to die. She
knew that the signe. of the destroyer was
set upon her brow, and that ere long she
would lie down beneath the quiet turf, and
she knew too, full well, that the fountains
Of Joy were dried in her soul, and so she
could greet the approach of death with
smile. ] was with her day by day, and
there was melancholy pleasure in thus
watching her gradual decay Of her hus-
band she never spoke, but in the still hour
of the night oft did her lips move in prayer
for him, who though erring was still below
ed. The beautiful spring had just burst
forth in gladness and verdure when Abba
died and as she lay in her robe of spotless
white upon the low couch, the same beau
tful smile played upon her marble counte-
nance that had decked it upon her bridal;
a wreath Of early flowers were entwined
amid those sunny locks, and there she lay
in the morning of life, a victim Of lntemper-
ance. Start not, dear one She could not
survive the destruction of all her garnered
hopes; and when she saw that noble GROW
upon which her lips had so often placed the
kiss Of love, degraded, and mark for the
finger of scorn to point its derisive sneer,
she wept-but still loved on. And when
in madness he drove her uhcomplaining
from his home, she mulmured not; but in
heart-broken grief, died They laid her
here by the side Of her mother, and the turf
which sheltered the parent screens the child,
and the fair flowers which her own hand
planted upon her mothers grave, now
sway their beautiful heads over her own.
There is sadness in the thought that one
so young, so pure, SO beautiful, should die;
and we shrink intuitively from the thought;
but still there is hope which breaks upon
the darkened chambers Of the sorrowing
soul, "She will rise again" and we can
wipe the tear of grief away, and almost
kiss the Christening rod which caused US to
weep There is a sweet, though fanciful
thought, which always follows me to the
graveyard, and which would not dispel,
G. "a -, 49,, IN plaa sura N is this