The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1851-01-11
To see the human soul take wing


In any shape, in any MOOD
But cannot rea<cn myself into such belief
A few days ago called upon n young female
tiIenl, and toun! her rapidly shaking beneath
thai decel;tu disease which is annually carryin 2
oil Thousands Of our brightest and mort gifted
young spirits As gazei upon her fragile form
passing away, aS the author Of ''Shiflcy' las
beautifully written, "likc a snow flake in
thaw," anl felt the terrible conviction coming
over me that she, once so lovely, must soon be
tenant Of! the II isomc tomb, confess shul-
dered. But why! asked myself; and was
unable to answer Was it at her approaching
dissolution? or at the thought of separation!
knew
''Ihis world is but the rugged road,
That leafs us TO the bright abode
Ofpeace aboyc,'
and that she was going to be Gwpl!cr in the
golden pavilions of Jesus of Nazareth. Then,
why did | shudder,? Was not prompted by e
selfish f1riing2 While Watched the bright
hectic Hush coming and going on her Iale cheek,
and the uncarthly lustre cleaning at times from
her eyes, fully appreciated Percyals poem
commencing
90 here ls a sweetness in wcnan's decay
When the light Of her beauty is fading away"
AMI accused myself perhaps uniustly, for giving
way to my feelings, and felt that it is not so hard
u thing to die.
II is the general opinion that Consumptivc's
death is Of all others the most awful. But do
not deem it so. 70 me there is something pecu-
larly touching AMI beautiful in such death
With what holy rapture must the heart Of the
pilgrim throb as he approaches the shrine of his
favorite prophet! And why should not we, who
are pilgrims journeying forward to the Mecca of
the Faithful beyond the skies, feel cur souls ex-
laa'l AM our bosoms glow, as way-worn and
weary, we near the threshold Of the Holy Tenn
plc-the goal Of all our wanderings? Death is
but closing of the temporal, an opening Of the
spiritual eyes, and as day BY day the Consulnp-
tive moldcrs back to dust, her glimpses of the
Promised Land become brighter and more glori-
Gus.
The spirit may perhaps leave the body with
struggle. in consequence Of the violation Of the
laws Of our being; for | hold if we obcyed these
laws the body would fall back to its original
slate without pang; but it is not the contemplu-
ton ofthe pain Of death that causes us to trem-
BILE. 1t is the consciousness that we have not
strictly solved the great problem Of liit--ihat we
have gone and hidden the talent entrusted to US,
in The earth; and are not prepared TO render UP
final account. Our daily conduct proves us cow
ards. For though we lave the rccAlessncss TO
break the law, which conducc 10 our temporal
and spiritual welfare, we dare not face 20 con$c-
qnenccs OF our own tUrptudc, with stoical in
difference. We are all ready to admit that
"lite's duty done, death never comes too socn, -:
yet we quail at the idea ofdying and stand bv the
grave overcome with grief and fear. Poor polt-
rooms that We are! Shall You and |, my dear r.,
be numbered with those who consider death ga
fearful thing or shall We so run our race that,
when the summons comes for us to leave the
field of cur present labols, we can gather our
mantlcs around us with dccaying energies, an |
walk down to the grave without regret.
RALPH RAMBLER.