Wisconsin tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1847-1854, 1849-03-09

Oh more terrible far than the bitteres
agony he could have witnessed her endure
: more eloquent than all the pleadings of a worl
IN her behalf, was that face in its meek an
unbroken Stiffness. She was dead-quite deat
yet not until Harry Percy bowed his iact
on that white cheek, and the cold thrill raj
along his feverish veins, could he indeed be
lieve that death was upon the young wife O
his bosom.
All me- it was terrible-and the half fran
tic husband for the first time prayed-oh,
how fervently he prayed. that her soft kiss
might answer back his own--that her music
tones would once more whisper his forgive
ness. 1t were mockery TO bend with that
doomed man over the shrouded form Of his
young, neglected wife, to listen to his frenzied
protestations, bat it was too late-the Master
had looked piyingly down from heaven, and
sent his kind angels for the weary one.
1t was many, many days, ere Harry Percy
dared trust himself to ask Of those who were
with her in the death hour how she died
"Oh! peacefully, sir, just like a good an
gel whose home was with the Mother ofGod
There was no murmur when the blood gush-
ed up through her beautiful lips, and dyed
the sweet curls OF the boy who slept upon
her BOSOM"
Then she did not suffer much!!n said
Percy in broken voice.
All. bless you, and it was Ike an infant
dropping 70 sleep in its mothers arms Nev-
er shall forget the sweet smile with which
she looked in my face and said; Mamie,
the struggle is almost pastzI shall soon be
at home''-and then kissing her little one,
she crossed her white hands and so fell asleep"
'' And she said not single word of me.
Mamie 7" asked poor Percy in a quiyering
tone
The woman looked pityingly in his face
moment, and answered, Sure, sir. your
name never left her lips from the moment
the death-strugge came on, till her soul was
resting in the bosom of God. She prayed in
a manner calm and MISUNDERSTANDING |
tears from all our eyes till the blessed words /
left her lips forever, that God would make |
you see your error, sir, begging your honor's /
pardon.) and that as she could not live to see
you reform, that her death, for the sake of
the dear child might lead you to do so :"
Poor Amy Lee! l came to her desolate |
home just il time to bend over her shroueed !
form, ere they folded the winding sheet for
the last time around her. There was clus-
ter of letters found in her private drawer, d.
rected to her husband, few days before her |
death; nesting amid their folds was this tiny |
epistle Of which have spoken. With tears /
standing in his sad eyes Percy gave ii me
with binding tears, dear reader shall l read /
ii you 1t was written few days before her
death-when the angels whisper had bid her
/" Set her house in order:' -
81 am dying, dear Bel, dying here in this /
far home, with no voice TO fall pleasantly ou
my closing ear, save that of my husband and
darling child. Nay, not start Isabel. though |
I am young, there is nothing terrible in the
thought Of death :; the grave is a pleasant rest |
ing place, and | am weary Yet l have /
shrank from it have turned away from the |
pale phantom IN the morning time and in the
still midnight when none were near. have
felt my child's tiny hands around me. draw
ing me backward from the grave, and won
dered how | could bear the white shroud and
the close winding sheet--but this is SO now
no more. All how peaceful will its dim fol s
fall around mellow does my heart pine for
the quiet OF the grave.
" 1t is all over, dearest, the bright dream
is broken up, my barque has indeed gone
down on a sea that seemed all sunshine; and
81 tlo. 4oI l.,
the sunny waters of dear Willow Brook. have
departed like winged angels Of light. | de-
ceived myself dear Bel, in believing I could
save my husband-that my love alone would
prove sufficient to win him back But the
veil has fallen from my eyes. / see where !
have erred; as | near the tomb all things
grow clear; and DOW see why it was my
love could not save him from ruin. I was
too passive-too spiritess for the imprisoned
nature of my husband; and so he learned to
treat me rather the wayward child, than
the fl lend | would have been. Only love
could fathom the intricacies Of h cart whose
very waywardness sprang from loving inn
| pulse-that love, without which, even life
with him, was valueless-only sad hued
dream. 1t is not strange, then, he early wea-
ried of my love when blindly feared to point
out his errors, lest l should lose my place in
his heart. Yet a sweet hope sometimes
steals in my poor heart, that perhaps when
he remembers all my devotion-how | loved
him to the last, and viii die praying that he
may be blessed-ah then, perhaps, my death
will accomplish that which life has been all
too feeble to accomplish. All if | might
die TO save him, Isabel, if in that far Heaven
where is my home, might know at least he