The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1852-09-01
From the Boston Olire Branch.
THE LAST TIE.

Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither Mt the North winds
breath,
Aud stars to set-butall,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, o
Death! Mrs. HEMANs.
How few think of death. Any subject
may be discussed-the most pucrilc cogi-
tations be entertained, yet let one talk of
dying, and oh, how soon the solemn sub
jcct is dismissed by the giddy and ungod-
Iy; and why is this must we not all die?
Yes, just as surely as the sun shines in the
armament. Then we should love to
think, to speak of death, yea, even to
visit the abode ofthe diving, there to learn
the solemn truth th@s we are mortal, and
must soon leave the theatre of existence,
to breathe the pure atmosphere of Para
disc, or writhc in excruciating tortures, in
that abode "wtere the worm dieth not and
the fire is not quenched."
Reader, did YOU ever sit beside the bed
of some dear friend, and witness the ap-
proach Of the king of terrors-sce the
eyes become CLASSY, and the lips quivcr
in that last sad struggles If so, the fol-
lowing sketch may perhaps interest you.
Spring, gentle spring has come again."
said Ellen $ to her mother, who sat
by the bed, and gazed upon her darling
one with that anxiety which mothers
bosom only can feel.
"Oh, ma, open the window" continued
Ellen, land let me inhale the fragrance
from my fower-garden; there are beauti-
ful flowers in it--some planted BY my own
hands, others by your hands, dear ma"
Mrs. s. raised the window, and El-
len sfiiied, as the perfume ffSsa hsr liitle
garden filed the apartment in which she
reDoscd.
Ellen S was in her eleventh wear,
and her mother had looked forward with
delightful anticipations, to the day when
the dear child would be n solace to her
but how mysterious are the ways Of Prov
idence she was to be disappointed.
Two lovely children, one son, the
other daughter, had been snatched from
the dear parent who had ever striven to
make them happy, by that grim monster,
death; and now she sat beside the couch
of her dear Ellen, the last link, the only
precious tie that bound her to earth. The
disease which prcyed upon this sweet
child had caused the death of her brother
and sister, and she, too, was rapidly sink
ing into the arms Of death.
All, how must that parents heart have
heaved with anguish, as she sat watching
the receding sunlight Of her Ellen's exist
encc
Is there heart so sensitive rs a mothers
Ollie that can love more dearly! Is
there one who will watch in the still night,
or when the storm-king is careering with
out, more carefully, or smooth the pillow,
and wipe the moisture more gently from
the Sufferers browl We think not.
ana, can you pluck one of those white
roses from the bush that grows in the
middle of the garden I" said Ellen, rs her
tender parent kissed her brow, so beauti-
fully white, and smoothcd back the dark
tresses that adorned her child's head. 81
love to look upon the white rose-it is an
emblem Of innocence and purity; and am
/ not innocent, ma"
Mrs. s. retired from the room, but
soon returned, bringing the flower for
which her sick child had asked.
Ellen stretched out her white arm, at
tenuated by disease, and her fingers ner-
vously grasped the favoritc rose.
allow beautiful! and its odor is so
agreeable" said the pale girl; bnt ma, l
am very weak, my limbs are chilled, and
yet no pain racks my frail body. know
that soon my voice shall be hushed, and
these lils that now are almost colorless,
will be cold, yes, icy cold, to the touch.
But l will not talk Of dying, for it distress
ses you, dear ma and oh! would rather
see the sweet smile upon your face, than
witness the outbursting Of your sorrow.
Take this rose and place it near me, that
my eyes may often rest upon it; and
when these orbs shall have lost tn cir
brightness, and are put out by death, then
let this simple flow er be placed in my
hands, that they who may gaze upon my
pale features may say, She was pure, she
was innocent, even pure as the rose in her
icy fingers"
"My child" whispered the mother. aare
yoa willing to DIET Would You not rath-
er live to comfort me when the frosts OF
age shall have whitened my hair Can
you willingly leave earth and its plea-
sures, your own quiet home, and the mo-
ther who has ever loved youi Oh, Ellen,
Ellcn," cried the affectionate parent, as
the sorrow of her heart burst forth, "what
shall dol My children, dear little ones,
where are theyi Gone, gone, and you,
tine last " all, my only hope, are TO be
torn also from mel oh, how shall bear
this sorrow" 7" and the distressed mother
hugged TO her bosom the dear one of her
heart, and sobbed bitterly. So .
"Dear ma, ," said Ellen, rs she endeavor.
ed 10 vine away her mothers tears. al