Litchfield enquirer., 1851-05-22
A GE VI.
THE DYING WIFE TO HER HUSBAND.

The following most touching fragment
of Letter from a dying Wife to Aer
Husband was found by him some months
after her death, between tie leaves Of a
religious volume which she was very fond
of perusing. The letter which was liter
ally dim with tear marks, was written
long before the husband was aware that
the grasp of fatal disease had fastened
upon the lovely form of his wife, who di-
ed at the early age of nineteen
"Wnen this shall reach your eye, dear
c., some day when you are turn.
ing 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 20 your warm heart. For
many long and sleepless nights, when all
beside my thoughts was at rest, have
wrestled with the consciousness Of ap~
preaching death, until at last it has fore
ed itself upon my mind and although
to you and to others it might now seem
bu: the nervous imaginings of girl, yet,
dear g., 1T is so! "Many weary
hours have l passed in the endeavor to
reconcile myself to leaving you, whom l
love SO we'll, and this bright world of sun
shine and beauty; and hard indeed is it
TO struggle on silently and alone with the
sure connection that am about to leave
all forever, and go down alone into the
dark valley! But know in whom l
have trusted and leaning upon His arm
l 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 fee! at parting, when time
will so 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
MAKER presence, embalmcd in woman's
hottest prayer. But it is not to be so
and l submit. Yours is the privilege Of
watching through long and dreary nights,
for the spirits final fight, and of trans
ferring my sinking head from your breast
to my Saviour'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 spirits shall hold one last fond
communion, until gently faded from my
view-the last of earth-you shall min
gle with the first bright gllmpses of the
unfading glories of that better world,
where parlings are unknown. Well Go |
know the spot dear c., where you
will lay me often have we stood by the
place, and as we watched the mellow
sunset as it glanced in quiveHng flashes
through the leaves, and FURNISHED the
grassy mounds around US with stripes of
FURNISHED gold, each perhaps has thought
that some day one of US would come
alone. and which ever it might be, your
name would be on the stone. But we
loved the spot; and l know you'll love
it none the less when you see the same
quiet sunlight lngcr and play among the
grass that grows over your Mary's grave.
| know you'll 60 often alone there, when
| am laid there, and my spirit will be
with you then, and whisper among the
waving branches am not lost, dutgo@e
beore|