The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-10-30

l"lls upon my neart. Try 10 USpel IT, Dul
cannot always succeed
Maria came to see me about month ago,
bringing with her little Susie her youngest
child. They stayed with me two weeks every
moment of which was brimfu Of happiness
Maria lives farther away from me than Anna,
and we do not see each other as often it was
three years since we had met There were so
many questions TO be asked and answered, so
many incidents to relate, so much to talk of
that we had hardly begun our visit when the
| time came for its close. could not repress
| few tears rs babe farewell to my sister and
| her child Maria kissed me tenderly, but there
were no tears in her ewes Well there was no
need that there should be; she was going back
TO her husband and children-tO those who
| had been lonely in her absence. and would wei
come her with gladness. | pictured to myself
! their happy meeting and sighed at the thought
! that in my home there was no face to brighten
ut my coming.
The day had been dark and gloomy with a
sky threatening rain, that began to fall as the
evening set in Little Maggie went early to
| bed. and was left alone | drew the curtains,
put fresh coal upon the fire, and sat down in
the rocking-char. The room, as ! glanced
round it, looked very snug and cheerful The
carpet was gay-colorcd - the paper on the
walls was light and clcan-the Old-iaShiOned
clock in the corner licked in n strong clear
yoice--the brass knobs of the doors We're bright
rs hands could make them-SO were the cam
dlesticks ranged along the mantelpece The
fire shone with red and drowsy glow-the old
cat slept mt nv feet-the candle burned dimly
on the little stand
It is very pleasant here, | thOught-or it
would be, rather if | had any one with me
! but | am-aone ! don't think any but an
old maid can comprehend the full meaning of
! that word A bachelor is a solitary being GER
! tainly but men do not feel ike women, the
need of home sympathy and home affections
| To man, n bright fireside at his boarding
house is just as cheerful as if it were his own;
the companiOnshp of friend is as grateful to
him as that of wife or child would be, if he
had them lie does not feel any craving for
family JOYS ne has no vacant chamber haunt
ed by sense of its own loneliness in his heart
Business. the pursuit of wealth, the society of
his acquaintance suffice for him. But want
something dearer tenderer, more real, than
this: and being unable to obtain it, | cannot
but feel an emptiness, a void in life.
How thoroughly alone am have broth
ers and sisters nephews and nieces; they like
and esteem me with various degreesof warmth
but ! am not important to them ram no part
Of their happiness while | live; and if | died
t1o;' wout2 wat-@ly, IN 4 -1-s,~'' kts NJ s4sI
really necessary to the happiness of one human
being! 1t is a vain wish, though and might
rs well ask for wings, and expect that | could
lily single women of my age are OF but small
account to any one.
Alone, alone! 1t will be the lot of all
my future life, be that long or short and in
death | shall still be solitary | shall have
long illness, perhaps, and Anna or Maria will
come here to nurse me. ! shall not make much
trouble, hope shall try not to be exacting,
Bat Anna, she will be the one. probably, as her
family is smaller-will find it very lonely, and
she will feel anxious to be with her husband
and children She will do all that she can for
me, and do it kindly ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS on the
whole it cannot but be relief when she sees
that her task will soon be ended
shall die The clergyman will be present,
with Anna and her husband, for she will have
written to him that | cannot last much longer
and that he had better come on, if possible
Anna will weep when she sees that am going,
and even Georges eyes may be wet with tears.
A short struggle, few quickly drawn breaths,
and all will he over. Only u poor wOrn-out |
body will lie upon the bed God grant that the |
spun may HdNC I'lNStu w HlIlIiCl ItBIOHS
They will lay me out, and place me in the
parlor--I shall lie there undsturbed None
will come to gaze with anguish on my pale and
wasted features-no hot tears will fall upon my
iace-nO kiss be pressed upon my icy lips |
few neighbors may step in, perhaps, to see the
when the cloth is removed they
will say She is very natural , or She is much
altered Just rs the case may be- The same
remark will be made by those friends who have
been sent for to follow me to the grave.
After two or three days will come the fu- |
neral. Some of Tue village people will be pres
ent, and there will be n respectable number OF
mourners A prayer will be offered, and the
old clergymcn will speak few words to the
living admonishing them to prepare for the
time when they, too must lie cold and notion
less ~ the corpse before them The coffin will
be opened and all who wish can look at me for
the last time after that the lid will be
screwed down, and shall be carried to my long
home. Should the day be fine, some of my old
acquaintance will attend me on that last Jour
ncy. ! can see now the hali-dO2en carriages
aud the few people ON foot moving socmnly
onward till they reach the churchyard gate
There they halt--the mourners descend from
the carriages and all walk slowly up the broad
path, and pause before an open vault The
coffin is lowered-the gray-hared old clergy
man steps forward and with head uncovered
prays beside the grave The bearers throw in
"a few shoyels full of earth-the clods fall heavily
upon the coffin The clergyman says, AS
have so often heard him, These afflicted
meurners thank you that you have buried their
dead away from their sight the little crowd
dspcrscs and the sexton hastily fills up the
grave
They come back to this housc-Maria, Anna
and my brothers The will is read. and then
they sit down to late dinner There are no
tears, no stiiled sobs neither is there laughter
nor leyity. A decent seriousness pervades the
group.
The next day all will go to their own homes
but Anna and her husband-they will stay be-
hind to attend to the disposal of the furniture
and the closing of the house When this is
done, they too will 60 and the bare mound in
the churchyard will remain unvisited
by and by this house will be sold-Othcr peo-
pie will live in these rooms which have been
mime 10 long-other furniture will stand in the
place OF those tme-hOnored relics which |
brought hither from my own dear home And
my memory will pass away from the earth
Ii is hard, it is hard | said and dropped n
tear Will no human being think often of me
with tender SORROW! Will no kind hand
plant flowers upon my grave-no eye weep that
| have gone forever Not one
And yet questioned myself is it not better
80! Better to pass off quietly into oblivion,
leaving no trace behind us Is il not selfish to
wish that we may DE u cause of pain and sorrow
to the hearts that we love best Yes. it is
seliish-but it is also natural
That is no excuse Mrs K would here
remark; grace ought to be strong enough to
conquer nature Dear Mrs K, | have
great respect for your Judgment, great rever-
ence for your opinions-but forgive me if can
not quite give in my adherence to this sentiment
of YOURS Was there no grief nf wonnded fneling