Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1847-01-14


cradle of affection, her young heart knew moth
ing of the ills of life. But alas alasl How
soon is the spell to be broken. In how short a
time is her heart made to bleed-wrung with
the anguish of despair. A few short years,
and her young and teuder spirit is made to
mourn.
oh, Henry, why do you stay out so late? !
do not wish to murmur, my dear, but talk to me
now; tell me! Has Your Eliza no charms for
you? Are you not happy at home! Will you
not stay with meP Henry turned his face to the
wall, and gazed intently on the bed, wet with
the tears of affection and grief Oh, the bitter
ness of that house. Worn down with fatigue
and yet she fingered in the chamber of death,
watching the dim chickering's of the candle of
life, until she caught the last faint breathings of
the dying husband.
Dark was that night
Deep was the silence of that hour Can this
be you? Oh, Eliza, dry up your tears?-and as
he spoke, he recolected his broken vows-his
early love the kindness and undying attention
of his wife Too late, too late Writing
in the deepest agony, he turned his head and ex-
pired.
Can it be true, that, in the short space of
few years, the young and tender heart of g.
liza has been made to mourn The loved
one is gone. Henry IS no more! Eliza is a.
widow
Young and beautiful one, upon whose smooth
and soft cheeks the cold winds of winter have
scarcely ever bown-can it be, that thou hast
awakened from thy dream of bliss! And by
whom was the cup of thy happiness broken?
Say, was it the partner of thy bosom? Was it
by him who Just now loved thee welll who knew
nothing hut the fondest devotion! How hard to
realize this truth.
When free from nebretY, no husband could
be more affectionae aud kind than Henry, But
this recollection served rather to increase the
bitterness OF the draught she had been com
PEELED to drink. Nay, she could not bring her
mind to believe that he was so soon to be the
lamented victim of intemperance-- Henry Snead
is gone Imagnngs of the most frightfu and
alarming character made mournful the hour of
his death.
If the heart can be made to feel, it must feel
at beholding the early severing of those ties
which bind two hearts in one. Oh, how DESC
late, lonely and broken hearted must that wo-
man be, who, far from her paterna roof, is com
PEELED to consign to an early grave him by
whom she had been wooed, and to whom she
had been endeared by the fondest affection.
Eliza can never forget Henry Snead. He
was young man, who, when he first entered
society, received the commentator of all. He
possessed great sweetness of disposition, and
high amiability of character. He was generous
hearted, and had much nobleness of spirit. He
had embarked upon the ocean of life with
'streamers gay and no one was better prepared
to have prosperous voyage. Every scene was
giIded with the brightest prospect of connubla
happiness But reared upon the lap of luxury
he had acquired habits from which he could moi
throw.
Eliza Snead is lonely, disconsolate widow
Her hair once dark and glossy, has prematurely
whitened, Her cheek, once the rival of the
rose, has grown pallid with care and anxiety
Her eye, once lighted up with the fire of love
has been dimmed by grief Her voice, once
shr and meIodious, has lost much of its music
Once her bosom heaved with the lofty aspirations
of the youthful maiden-now it heaves with dis
appointment and trouble.
Eliza! 1t is true that thou art left upon the
ocean of life alone, but He who is husband tc
the widow will guide thy little bark softly acros
its biowy surges. Well do remember thu
strange reflections which crossed my mind as
gazed upon that form. She was tender, ovin,
wfe-the pride of her husband-the ornamen
of her family.
Whenever Henry was in the least oppressed
by care, there she stood like a guardian ange
ready to raise his bowed head, and to offer con
ISOLATION. Whenever he was impatient or des
pendent, she was always ready to sootbe, and tt
bid him hope on still amid the many vicisstude
Of life. And even in the dying hour, when al
others forsook-when, frantic with madness, HI
raved and struggled in the mighty conflict will
the last enemy Of man-in that hour so lone anC
dreary-so trying and awfuI-she did not for
sake him. Though he had often left her nigh
and day, yet she never could leave him. There
she stood by his dying couch, watching closely
every pulsation of the heart, administering east
and offering comfort even amid the pangs o
death. And after DEATH she followed his bod
to the grave but there they parted, perhaps t.
meet no more forever Oh, the thought of al
eternal separation! Appalling idea, souI-stirrin
reflection!
Young widow, lonely one! Although tn
partner of thy bosom is gone, thou mayest trus
in God. He hath said, { | will never leave no
forsake thee though the pale moon may shin
dlmly, and cast over thy dwelling faint glim
merlng light-aIthough the winds of Heavel
may sigh mournfuIly around, and every thini
may seem to augment the aching of thy heart
still remember that God rules on high Lool
up to him through thy tears. He listens to tn
signs. He hears thy mourning. When al
earthly hopes seem to fade and die He is tn
hope of the hopeless. Look through the darl
cloud which overhangs the sky, and catch tina
sound, which is music to the mourner's ear