The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1849-02-17

ruined home. with no other companionship
than that OF his mothers old herdsman. who
served him without pay, for the love he bore
to his house; and lastly, spoke of the con-
Stunning languoI which would sweep him
away with the autumnal leaves, and lay
him in the churchyard, beside those he loved
so we'll His intense imaginative faculty
might he seen strong even in death, and in
idea he loved to endow with fanciful SYM
patty the turf and flowers which would bios
som on his grave.
DO you know what grieves me most?'
said be, pointing TO the fringe Of little birds
which were perched round the top Of his
bed--'it is to think that, next spring, these
poor little ones, my latest friends, will seek
for me in vain in the tower. They will no
longer find the broken pane through which
to fly in; and on the floor. the little focks
of wool from my mattrass with which to
build their nests; but the old nurse, TO whom
bequeathe my little all, will take care Of
them as long as she lives, he resumed, as
if to comfort himself with the idea-'and
after her---Well! God will! for He
feedeth the young ravens
| He seemed moved while speaking OF
these little creatures. II was easy to see
that he had long been weaned from the
sympathy OF men, and that the whole ten.
derness of his soul, which had been re.
\ nnIvaJ hv than ,yas ,,n,,, ,.ao,To.,aJ a.
dumb animals. will you spend any time
among our mountains?' be inquired. Yes,
| replied, so much the better, he added
you will close my eyes, and take care tina
my grave is dug as close as possible to thos,
, Of my mother, wife, and child!'
, He then begged me to draw towards hin
} a large chest of carved wood, which wa
concealed beneath bag Of Indian corn a
one end OF the room. | placed the ches
9 upon the bed, and from it he drew quar
@ tity of papers which he tore silently t
pieces, for half an hour, and then bid hi
!, old nurse sweep them into the FIRE. Their
!, were verses in many languages, and inn,
It merable pages of fragments, separated b
e dates, like memoranda. why should 20
II burn all these?' | timidly suggested; 'ha
not man moral as we'll as a material il
d heritance to bequeathe to those who com
n after him? You are perhaps destroyin
a thoughts and feelings which might ha,
e quickened SOUL
}. what matters it, he said; there al
|, tears enough in this world, and We need nj
II deposit few more in the heart Of man. :
h These, said he, showing his verses, are Il
cast of, useless feathers of my soul; it hi
d moulted since then, and spread its bold
J. wings for eternity?' He then continued
l. burn and destroy, while | looked out Of Il
[, broken window at the dreary landscape.
le At length, he called me once more to d
: bedside. Here, said he--'save this oil
e. little manuscript, which ] have not coura,
d to burn. When | am gone, my poor nur
y, would make bags for her seeds with it, al
h | would not that the name which fills
lie pages should be profaned, Take it, al
er keep it till you hear that am no NOR
m After my death you may burn it, or pr
serve it till your old age, to think of Il
10 sometimes as you glance over it,
oil hid the roll OF paper beneath my cloa
y and took my leave, resolving inwardly to
s. turn the next day to soothe the last momer
ID Of Raphael by my care and friendly d
ID course. As'I descended the steps, sa
a, about twenty little children with thu
ut wooden shoes in their hands, who had con
er to take the lessons which he gave thel
+. even on his DEATH bed. A little further o
u | met the village priest who had come
he spend the evening with him. | bowed
er specially, and as be noted my swollen ey,
p he returned my salute with an air OF mour
ID ful sympathy.
te The next day | returned to the tower.
Raphael had died during the night, and t
re village bell was already tolling for
ID burial. Women and children were star
ne ing at their doors, looking mournfully
IN the direction Of the tower, and in the liz
~ green field adjoining the church, two me
Sc with spades and nattock, were digging
IN grave at the foot Of cross.
H. drew near TO the door-a cloud
= twittering swallows were furtering rou
er the open windows, darting in and out,
tn though the spoiler had robbed their nests.
,g Since then have read these pages, a
g. now know why he loved to be surround
ne by these birds, and what memories Ii
Id walked in him, even to his dying day.