The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1851-03-22
SATURDAY MORNING MARCH % 1851

| llOiii 'iit iDtN llltD ltit stItIGl sue loved.
1t was the work OF an instant TO spring
on to her, and swim but few strokes 10
the shore, and she was not a particle
frightened by the occurrence-on the
contrary, the woods rang with her I'M
comfortable laughter, as soon as she was
on the shore.
walked in the same forest two wears
ago, and heard again the music of that
ringing laughter through the long halls
of time, made scarcely more melodious
by its passages through the corridors of
years.
Placing her in the boat, and taking
the oars from Ned, soon delivered them
safely 10 the cottage and babe them good
night. The next day Annie had reg
ing fever, and was dclirous for ten DAYS,
! saw her several times, but she did not
recognize me-, albeit | was a near rela-
tive, and had known her from her birth.
There was one voice she recognized.
and one face that she looked up to with
longing love. 1t was the face ofPhilip
R, who had won her pure young
heart. But will not intrude on the
sacred memory Of that love, which is the
property of but few living. Phil. is dead
too. On the tenth day Of her sickness
she slept heavily, and awoke in her right
mind. But, alas! for the dear ones
around her, it was but too evident she
was near to Heaven. Her eye was clear
and full OF joy, as if she had been, as |
doubt not she had, with angels.
Old Mr.. Thompson, the clergyman,
who had baptized us all, and had buried
our fathers, and loved us faithfully from
the days of our first lisping, stood by her
bed, and she smiled joyfully as she saw
him.
"Ah, Mr.. Thompson, used to wonder
whether should die with you all around
me, and this is just exactly as wished.
1t seems strange, too, that am dying.
don't exactly believe it. Phil. am |
dying!'
Good forbid, Annie
"Ah! that tone, Phil! You mean to
say God only can save me, for all hope
ofman is gone.-Don't grieve, though,
don't grieve. Why, it isn't hard to die.
love the dear earth we'll enough to stay
here-and the flowers and birds, and the
brooks, and the old seat down by the
bank OF the stream; but don't feel so
very sorrowful to leave them as | used
to think | would. And leave mother
and Ned, and Mr.. Thompson, and--and
you Philip and here her voice, which
had been low but cheerful, suddenly
TRAM, llal I'll eha
AT length she continued in renewed
tone of cheerlulness:
"Phil., 60 sometimes and SIT on the old
seat down there by the stream, and put
your arm along the back of it and look
up-and fyou don't feel my kiss, it will
be because angels kisses can't be felt;
for, if God will let me, I'll come there,
and take the seat which | have so often
sat in and lay my head on your shoulder.
Mr.. Thompson, Pm going to Heaven, at
last, Iii advance of you. lstarted long
way behind, but | shall be there first,
after all"
The good old man, to whom this part
of her sentence was addressed, sobbed
aloud; but at length recovering compo-
sure, he kneIt at the side of her bed and
his long white locks fell over the coun-
terpane, as he commenced a prayer of
earnestness.-l stood still at the foot of
the bed, and watched the face of our an
gel girl. AS he spoke of Heaven, her
eye lighted; and as he begged God to
spare her to us yet little longer, | saw
her hand steal along until it reached
Phil's. head, and her tiny fingers were
among his thick locks Of hair, and the
next moment her hand was in his, and he
rose, and sitting by her side, he gazed
into her face with unutterable love; and
as the sublime words of hope escaped
from the lips Of the Clergyman, saw
hers move, as if to say, ''hiss me Phil"
and he stopped down to her, and with
her arms around his neck and that last
loving kiss upon her lips, she went forth
by the unknown path that all must
tread.
But she went not forth fccbly nor
alone. Strong in her simple faith, and
leaning confidently on her Saviour,
she who was the fairest of our children
here, has long ago become, | doubt not,
one Of the fairest of Gods children there.
Peace be with her. On her grave
violets bloom and have seen children,
who had wandered over the hills in
search Of flowers all day long in vain, re-
fuse to pluck those which doomed holly
over all that was earthly of Annie Grey.
Peace be with her! In that sunny land
whereof | dream in summer Sabbath
morning dreams, | trust one day to meet
her. There, the voice that was low and
plaintive as the night wind here, will
renew its tone of thrilling melody.
There the last sound Of sorrowful discord
is hushed, for, as she left us, those sounds
| died away, family, scarce heard, and