Sentinel of the valley. [volume] (Woodstock, Va) 1841-1848, 1847-10-28
From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
MEMORY.
ASKETCH.- BIZ META DEERE.


friend. Long and earnestly had we
communedtogether, for we felt that il
was for the last time, and never had |
Shared in conversation so full of
thrilling interest. 1t had seemed as if
the"Dark Valley' was open before Us,
and we saw its shades gfadually break
ing away under the influence of the
glorious light of Heavens if the
mysteries of the unknown world were
revealed to US, and we saw already,
"not as through glass, darkly."
She, who now stood undaunted and
unfaltering on the threshold of eternity,
was very, very dear to me, yet | did
not dare to grieve for her. So clear a
view of the future was before her-so
joyful and triumphant were her
thoughts ofdeath so full Of faith, and
SO spiritual the expressions that dropp-
ed from her lips, that at times | quite
forgot that she was vet "of The earth,
earthly" listened as to voice from
the spirit land; its torres still linger in
my memory. H
Her home was in one of earth's
"pleasant spots'' -bright streams and
sparkling waterfalls, green fields and
groves, and fragrant flowers, the songs
of birds, and the mild breath of sum-
mer, contrasted strongly with the dark
ness and silence around death-bed.
and | asked
':Do you not grieve, Julia, to leave
scenes you have loved SO well, for
evera'
The bright tears tremoled in her
eyes as she replied,
"Yes-it is hard to leave them, but
do you not believe | shall remember,
even see them still? A few days
since, | went to look at them, they
said, 'fo7 the last time,' and my lips
echoed feebly, 'tor the last time!' But
voice in my heart told me, You will
see them again. Can scenes like this
be forgotten on earth' How much
rather, then, will their memory be treas
ured where no good thing shall be
withheld from usp' Ana | know /
shall see them. | do not see you for
the las: time. Think you that our
mutual love can ever be among forgot
ten things' No, Militia. Memory is
immortal, and the spirit in bliss, even
If not permitted to revisit the scenes
it has loved, shall, at least, never forget
them"
The earnestness with which she
spoke had kindled on her cheek a
glow like that on autumn leaves, and
in her eyes their wonted lustre, but
they soon vanished, and in few hours
she too lad passed away, as sweetIy
and as peacefully.
/ love to think ofthe death bed, and
often dwell with dear delight on those
ideas Of memory. Yes, ssMemory Is
immortal" When the purified spirit
is freed from its clayey letters, the evil
passions which have helped to bind it.,
pass away; Hope exists no longer, for
i: is "swallowed up in full fruition,"
nor Faith, for it is sslost in sight
but Love ane Memory will bear it COM
pany. They are, from their very ma
ture, imperishable, for they are attri-
butes Of Deity. Memory, some one
has said, will furnish the books from
which men are 10 be judged; but l
would 60 still farther, and say, Mem
DRY is the Recording .Angsl.. Nothing
passes without its notice, and though
here it sometimes hides its treasures,
nothing entrusted to its care is ever
lost. Zach thought, and word, and
action, is recorded each scene that
fits before the eye leaves its unfading
impress, each sound Of discord or Of
harmony is treasured, and none Of
these will ever be forgotten.
Then when the light Of Eternity is
shed upon our frightened vision, and
we are enabled 10 see in. all lis bear
ings Nh which we see, So feebIy now;
when The importance Of every step we
take in, life, and the sometimes vast
results Of the most trivial causes are re-
.yealed to when ssthe exceeding