The weekly Minnesotian. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1852-1858, 1852-05-22
Amt PAUL. MINNESOTA TERRITORY SATURDAY. MAY % 1879
The Dying Wife.
BY SIX MARVEL"

That wife over whom your love broods
is fading. Not beauty fading that, now
that your heart is wrapped up in her be.
ing, would be nothing.
She sees with quick eye your dawnins
apprehension, and she tries hard to make
that step of hers elastic.
Your trials and your loves togethe,
have centered your affections. They are
not now as when you were lone man
wide spread and superficial. They have
caught from domestic attachments a finer
tone and touch. They cannot shoot out
tendrils into barren world soil and suck
up thence strengthening nutriment. They
have grown under the forcing glass of the
home roof, they will not now bear expo
sure.
You do not now look men in the face
as if heart bond was linking you-as if
community Of feeling lay between.
There is heart bond that absorbs all
other; there is a community that monop-
olizes your feeling. When the heart lay
wide open, before it had grown upon and
closed around particular objects, it could
take strength and cheer from a hundred
connections that now seem colder than
ice.
And now those particular objects-alas
for you ARE failing.
What anxiety pursues you! How you
struggle to fancy there is no danger!
How it CRATES now on your ear-the
toll and turmoil of the city 1t was mu-
sic when you were alone; it was pleasant
even when from the din you were elab-
Grating comforts for the cherished objects
when you had such sweet escape when
evening drew near.
How it maddens you to see the world
careless while you are stepped in care.
They hustle you in the street; they smile
at you across the table; they bow care
lessly over the way; they do not know
what canker is at your heart.
The undertaken comes with his bill for
the dead boys funeral. He knows your
grief; he is respectful. You bless him
in your soul. You wish the laughing
street goers were all undertakers.
Your eye follows the physician as he
leaves your house; is he wise you ask
yourself? is he prudent? ? is he the best
did he ever fail is he never forgetful?
You are early home-mid afternoon.
Your step is not light; it is heavy, terri
Bile.
They have sent for you.
She is lying down; her eyes half closed;
her breathing long and interrupted.
She hears you; her eyes are open; you
put your hand in hers; yours trembles-
hers does not. Her lips move; it is
your name.
BE strong,'' she says, "God will help
you."
She presses harder your hand ,"Adieu!'
A long another; you are alone
again. No tears now; poor man! You
cannot find them!
Again home early. There is smell
of varnish in your house. A coffin is
there; they have clothed the body in de-
cent grave clothes, and the undertaken is
screwing down the lid, slipping round on
tip-toe. Does he fear to waken her!
He asks you single question about
the inscription upon the plate, rubbing it
with his coat cuff. You look him straight
in the eye; you motion to the door, you
dare not speak.
He takes up his hat and glides out
stealthily like cat.
The man has done his work we'll for
all that. 1t is nice coffin-a very nice
coffin! Pass your hand over it-how
smooth!
Some sprigs of mignionette are lying
carelessly in little gilt edged saucer.
She loved mignionette.
1t is good staunch table the coffin
rests Ont is your table-you are a
housekeeper-a man of family!
Ay, of family. Keep down the out
cry, or the nurse will be in. Look over
at the pinched features; it is all that is
left Of her! And where is your hear.
now? No, don't thrust your hands, nor
mangle your lips, nor CRATE your teeth
together. If you could only weep!
Another day. The coffin is gone. The
stupid mourners have wept-what idle
tears! She, with your crushed heart,
has gone.
viii you have pleasant evenings at your
home how!