Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1852-06-08
DREAMS OF THE DEPARTED.

Like stars in the dark azure OF a Midnight
sky, are the beautiful dreams that gem the
hours of our unconscious repose. Then there
are forms that come unto US in the likeness of
humanity, through which shine the rays of a
divine light and their presence imparts plea.
sure unmixed with awe-for the horror that
to some minds seems inseparate from ghostly
visions when imagined in our waking hours,
gives place to a more spiritual appreciation OF
those reverend shades that petchance, at times,
still hover on the confines of their earthly.ta-
b%ernacle.
And what a wonderful iuhabitant do we hold,
housed up in our frail bodies! When sleep
comethtt to our pillow, and with drowsy breath
lulls us to forgetlulness of sense, how then does
the divine being within weave OF gentle memo
ries Of a ladderof roses and gold, and lifting Tito
heaven, wait, listening, TO hear the descending
And they come; years may have graftedtle sad
mistletoe, born of tears, upon the branches ofonr
Young, fresh hope, and turned ell tile leaves TO
an autumn decay utat.the touch ofthe, angel
fingers, blossoms shade the parasite, the cluster
ing leaves grow bright with health, and under
its shadow sport the lambs OF the flock, beautiful
with the garlands oil the heavenly pasture, vivid
ed by the great Shepherd of little children. The
Young, the good the lovely, gather about us; our
selves are dead to the outward, but we see them,
bless them, andby them are blest. The cuddling
babe, whom we thought locked too securely in
the treasury of our love for death to covet, but
who nevertheless LOOK SeTdpu wings .luSt ms u
had learned to fold it's little arms about our necks,
sits once again in its olden place, and leans once
more its dear head against the mothers bosom.
And in its eyes is heavens own unfading light,
on its brow the seals of heavens covenant, and
its whole presence is like a ray from the throne
of God penetrating the soul. The pallor OF death,
The shroud, the gaping earth and swelling sod,
with its white head. stone upon which some cher.
ished name is sculptured, are not remembered
then; il is with us again The tendrils OF onr
hearts lay no longer damp and uncnrledi with
their old beauty they gather up and close around
the object of our undyIng love.
It may have been that before we sought our
rest, we leaned once and again above the old arm
chair, where of late, with the seal of holy age
making her venerable brow almost luminous, a
mother sat. You cannot feel the pressure OF her
wrinkled hand upon your own, you sigh for the
approving smile that beamed on your last birth
dav: il has gone forever. No, not forever; for
in the hour when veiied night, with her coronet of
stars, moves over the shadowy world, there she
stands beside you, the eye brighter, the brow fair.
err. the step lighter. the sweet words as sweet as
ever; and when you waken, is there not light.
err feeling at the heart, as il you had been hold
ing converse with one of heavens saints?
I'VE have dreamed of the departed often, but
thew seldom seemed to us as when in life they
have come with towering forms and smiles,
whose expression WAS almost overpowerlng
with beauty they have been clothed with the
unearthly SplendQrs oil heaSen, a splemn sMeel
majesty in Their mein, that awed while it repress-
ed not the spirit.
II is a sweet solace, as we stand over the cold
forms of loyeliness, 10 dwell in ma gination upon
thatmeeting in the spirit world, where all broken
lies shall be Joined again together; and almost
as sweet is the anticipation ola glorious reunion
in The unreal life of dIIeamLand. For though un.
real, we act, think. and speak; feel all the emo,
lions of delight that thrill the bosom after g
long separation drink in the sad. or wonderful
stories that the d~earfIips tell unto us /; ask cues
tons Of the most monaentous import; talk OF the
sbsent, inquire concerning them perhaps press
the soft locks from the brow, or imprint kisses
there /: and when we waken, the whole interview
is stamped in glowing coloFs upon the mind eye
and we are almost as grateful for this pleasing
shadow. assif IL were indeed reality.
. Bury the dead from sight aye. bury them
deep. down, dig their damp graves; lannchthem
off5 where ocean rolls full hundreds of fathoms,
or wiIefe no sounding lead can reach the awful
iideptb : Law their bones To bleach upon the tallest
cliff that reaches towards heaven even then
ihey are not buried from sight from The innel
sight because there are; no lnmhs in The heart;
and the image once stamped there, never fades
often, often they will come back laden with soft
memories, and touching the spring that teyeIbe
rates 10 theamnsic Of olden times, shed over opl
deans the lightsOf rapture that haloes the en-
trance gates ofsheayen-Oife Branch.
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