The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1851-11-19
AFFECTING LETTER.
FROM A DYING WIFE TO HER HUSBAND


The following most touching fragment.
was found by the husband, some months
after the death of the writer. 1t was dis
covered lying between the leaves of en- old
religious volume, which she was very fond
Of perusng. The writing was literally
dim with the traces of her tears, and bore
evidence of having been penned long be-
fore the husband was aware that the grasp
of fatal disease had fastened upon the
lovely form Of his wife, who died at the
early age of nineteen:
"When this shall reach your eye, dear
c., some day when you are turning
over the relics of the past, ! shall have
passed 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 sleep
less nights, when all beside my thoughts
were at rest, have wrestled with the con-
sciousness of appro aching dissolution, un-
til at last it has forced itself upon my mind,
and although to you and to others, it may
seem but the nervous imaginings of girl,
yet, dear C., it is so! Many weary
hours have passed in the endeavors to re-
concle myself to leaving you, whom |
love so we'll, and this bright world OF sun
shine and beauty, and hard indeed it is to
struggle on silently and alone with the sure
conviction that am about to leave all for.
ever, and 60 down alone into the dark
valley "But know in whom trusted" P"
and leaning upon his arm, 81 fear no evil. :"
Don't blame me for keeping all this even
from you. How could subject you, OF
all others, to such sorrow as feel at part
ing, when time shall soon make it appa-
rent 10 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-damp from your
brow and usher your departing spirit into
its Makers presence, embalmed in wo-
mans holiest prayer. But it is not to be
so-and submit. Yours is the privilege
of watching through long and weary nights
for my spirits final flight, and of transfer.
ring my sinking head from your breast to
my Savior's bosom! And you shall share
my last 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 eyes shall rest on
yours until glazed by death; and our spir-
its shall hold one last fond communion
until gently fading from my view-the last
of earth-you shall mingle with the first
glimpses Of the unfading glories of that
better world, where partings are unknown.
Well do | know the spot, dear G.,
where you will lay me, often have we stood
by the place, and as we watched the mel
low sunset as it glanced in quivering flash
es through the leaves, and gilded the gras-
sy mounds around us with waves of bur-
nished gold, we have both perhaps thought
that some day one Of us would come alone,
and whichever it mightbe, the others name
would be on the stone. But we loved the
spot; and | know you'll love it none the
less, when you see the same quiet sunlight
linger and play among the grass that
grows over your Mary's grave, ! know
you'll 60 often alone there, where ! am
laid down to rest in my last silent sleep
and my spirit will be with you then, and
whisper among the waving branches. 81
lam not lost but gone before'' n :