The Portsmouth inquirer. [volume] (Portsmouth, O. [Ohio]) 1849-1855, 1851-05-26

The following most touching fragment Of
a letter from dying Wife to her Husband
was found by him, some months after her
death, between the leaves Of areligious vol
ume, which she was very fond Of perusing
The letter, which was little dim with tear
marks, was written long before the husband
was aware that the grasp IF fatal disease
was fastened upon the lovely form Of his
wife, who died at the early age Of nineteen:
"When this shall reach your eye, dear
O., some day when you are turning
over the relics of the past, / shall have pass
ed away forever, and the cold white stone
will be keeping its lonely watch over the
lips you have SO often. pressed, and the sod
will be growing green that shall hide forever
from your sight the dust Of one who has so
often nestled close TO your warm heart. For
many long and sleepless nights, when all my
thoughts were at rest, have wfestled with
the consciousness of approaching death, ,un-
til at last il has forced itself upon my mind;
and although to you and tosothers itniight
now. seem but the nervous imagination Of q
girl, yet dear c., 1t is so. Many weary
hours have | passed in the endeavor to recon
cile myself to leaving you, whom love Sc
well, and this bright world Of sunshine and
beauty, and hard, indeed, IL is to struggle on
silently and alone, with the sure conviction
that / am about to leave all, and 60 down
alone into the dark valley! But / know in
whom have trusted and leaning on His
arm, 4 fear no evil Don't blame me for
keeping even all this from you. How could
l subject you, of all others, to such sorrow as
/ feel at parting, when time will soon make
it apparent to you? could have wished to
live, if only to be at your side when your
time shall come, and pillowing your head
upon my breast, wipe the death damps from
your brow, and usher your departing spirit
into its Makers presence, embalmed in
woman's holiest prayer. But tits not to be
so-and | submit.
Yours is the privilege ofwatching, through
long and dresFy nights, for the spirits final
flight, and I6f transferring my sinking head
from your breast to my Saviours's bosom =
And you shall share my thought; the last
faint pressure of the hand, and the last feeble
kiss shall be yours; and even when flesh and
heart shall have failed me, my eye shall rest
on yours until glazed by death--and our spir-
its hold one last fond communion until
gently fading from my view--the last o.
earth--you shall mingle with the first bright
glimpses Of the unfading glories Of that bet
ter world, where partings are unknown
Well do / know the spot, dear O.
where you will lay me, often have we stood
by the place, and as we watched the mellow
sunset as it glanced in quivering flames thro
the leaves and Furnished the grassy mound
around us with the stripes of FURNISHED gold
each perhaps has thought that one Of u
would come alone; and whichever it nigh
be your name would be on the stone. Blu
you loved the spot; and | know you'll low
me none the less when you see the same quie
sun light linger and play among the gras
that grows over your Mary's grave. / knoy
you'll 80 often alone there, when am lai
there, and my spirit will be with you then
and whisper among the waving branches, {
am not lost but gone tetcre r