Glasgow weekly times. (Glasgow, Mo.) 1848-1861, 1852-12-16

would take place? for every nerve in my
body had changed 10 an instrument of tor
ture. Fortunately they did not pass me,
but retraced their steps; and |, bending
low, with an almost breaking heart, slowly
left the pleasant grave yard. and walked to-
wards my home, 100 wrctched to think or
tell the crushing weight of my disappont-
ment.
The next day, before sunrise was on
my way 10 a neighboring city. | was in
strange tumut, that knew not but would
prove fatal TO me. was ready for almost
any desperate deed and had more than once
cont ntempated self destruction; but | called
phlosophy-nay, something higher, holier,
TO my aid, gon-and Fin time became
soothed, but not comfortcd-that is, after
knew May was irrevocably married.
Two months passed; deemed myself
fortified sufficiently with good resolutions,
to return to my chosen place Of residence.
It was noon when l drove up the main
street; a carriage at that moment dashed by
me; in another moment it had turned and
Frederick was abreast. involuntary drew
my reins-hs face denoted strong agitation.
"For Gods sake. DIR. Lane, my early
friend, do not stop till you'reach Mrs. Ken
dall's! My May lies there. sick, dyirg."
he gasped. turning oshy pale. Ny face
blanched; felt kind of tremor; we dashed
on without speaking, and in fifteen minutes
| stood by the couch of the bride.
That was an awful hour thus spent: at
its close / pressed down her white eyelid>
over her dull, glazed eyes. An heaven,
thought I, how can such beauty be dead p
And still. for all, there was a triumph at mv
heart-until beheld the awful grief of the
husband, as almost forced him from the
inanimate body that he would hold clospcd
to his bosom. kissing the white lip, the
whittier cheek. even the golden locks that lay
damn end uncured over her shoulders.
When left the house of mourning, was
it not strange the calmness | felt settling
down over my spirit? Could this thought,
even in its faintest tracery, swell through
my mind at such time--she is not mine,
and neither is she his; am glad that as she
could not be mine only, none but death can
claim her now? fear, that had conscience
applied her torch, she would have read those
scathing words written on the crimson por-
tails Of my heart: but must hasten.
| The next dav. | went over to be present
at the funeral services; and still felt that
sorrowful happiness. Poor Frederick was
at times raving. then stupid with his great
woe. The mourners assembled; the heauti,
| ful dead Law robcd in satin, in her coffin; and
already the large porlor was filled with
weeping friends. took my station by the
coffin: with unutcrable tenderness did
gaze upon that heavenly countenance-it
looked not like stern death, but soft smiling
slumher.
There were all her young companion,
arounA-viIlage maidens, whose slvery
voices joined in a solemn burial song: bu
oh, how those voices wavcred and tremhIed
until tears and sobs choIed down THEN
music, and one mournful, hcart-rendinl
wall sounded through the room.
The pastor arose and began his prayer
never heard a more affecting petition: how
geutly he spoke of her youth, her beaut,
and goodness; the circumstances unde
which God was pleased TO call her, Just a
it We're standing on the threshold of life
and looking through to the rose-colored fu
ture. still kept my place by the coffin
my eyes full of tears, never once moyet
from that holy face.
iancied the features grew dim; I though
my sight failed, and I bent closer TO thu
corpse. drew back, wiped my eyes
looked again. God of mercy. what thrill
sent wild shock through my frame an,
smote my brain as with fire. recled;
feel over almost upon the coffin: there wa
n moisture upon the glass, moisture tha
came not Off when applied my hand mojS
tire on the inside. My knees tremhlcd, N,
heart beat wildly, my body swayed like
pendulum; all my serenity was gone; th
voice of the pastor whistled in my ear; eacl
moment was an hour, and yet | knew no
. what to do. The conflict came again
was awful. awful: if kept silence. she wo
still the bride of deaih, and as mech mine q
aaoiher'S; i'll spoke, she was again the wifi
ofmy rival. | dare not think of my emotion
now-I could not have been myself whe,
that horribly temptation beset me, and whis
pered me TO let the darl; grave have her, j
might not. Oh, that was the great sin o
| my life: hope am forgiven.
! The PRESENTATION Swellcd out from ever
pore, but the agony was passed; | coul
: have throitled the pastor that he did nc
cease-yet feared for the life of the poo
f husband, should he know the truth too sud
denly; there was atingling from my head t
) my fingers ends--I shook like an aspe
, leaf
Amen! oh how I thanked God for tho
$ sound; still chung to the coffin; was weak
5 veal; as a child.
/; 1t was the custom for the chief mourner
to be called first, that they might be spare
the shock of seeing the dear one born on
| before their eyes. The poor husband toter
! ed but supported on each side. Do yo
a not think my feelings must have been singu
{ lar, as he passed mc.-neXt the sohbin
, mother. Now was my time; "frIend,
n ncighbors," gasped, "call the sexton; tai,
ofrthe coffin lid; for Gods sake delay not
G moment, she is not dead Irather shrek
I ed than said the last words.
! o! such a change come over that assem-
q bly,. many swooned- a crowd came rushin
I'm IN tha onffin. I OraSsa1 thpn hoc oh. th