The Athens post. [volume] (Athens, Tenn.) 1848-1917, 1854-07-14
THE OLD wIFE'S KISS.

wiped off from wet checks, and long drawn
sighs relieved suppressed and choking sobs
as the dmoumers" prepared to stake leave Of
the corpse"
Ii was an old man that lay there robed for
the grave. More than three score years had
whitened those locks and furrowed that brow,
and made those stiff limbs weary of life,s
journey, and all the more willing to lie down
and rest where weariness is no more suffered,
and infrmities are no longer burden. The
aged have but few TO weep Cor them when
they die. The most of those who would
have mourned their loss, have gone to the
grave before them; harps that would have
sighed sad harmonies, are scattered and gone.
And the few who iemain are looking CRADLE
ward, rather than graveward---to ife's open
ing rather than otis closing goal; are bound
to, and living in the generation rising, more
than the generation departing
Youth and beauty have many admirers
while lving-have many n.ourners when dy-
ing. Many fearful ones bend over their
coffined clay, many sad hearts follow in their
funeral train. Bat age has few admirers, few
mourners.
This,was an old man, and the circle of
mourners was small. Two children, who had
themselves passed the middle of life, and who
had children of there own to care for, and to
be cared for by them. Besides these, are a
| few friends who had seen and visited him
while sick, and possibly had known him for
a few years, there were none Others to shed
tear except his old wife seemed to be the
only heart mourner., 1t is respectful for
friends to bs sad for few minutes, till the
service is performed, and the hearse is out of
sight 1t is very proper and suitable for
children who have outgrown the fervency
and affections Of youth, to shed tears when
an aged parent says farewell, and lies down
to quiet slumbers. Some regrets, some re-
collections of the past, some transitory grief
and the pangs are over. otaways so. But
often, how little true genuine sorrow there
is.
The old wife arose with difficulty from her
seat, and went to the coffin to look her last
look-to take her last farewell. Through
the last falling tears, she gazed long and
fondy down in to that pale, unconscious
face. What did she see there! Others saw
nothing but the rigid features of the dead;
she saw more! In every wrinkle of that
brow, she READ the history of years. From
youth to manhood, from manhood to old age
--in Joy s-'s s----~,s,. 4e;ei~... .nd hoaith-
it was all there; when those children, who
had now outgrown the sympathies of child
hood, were infants lying on her bosom-and
every year since then-there it was! To
Others those dull. mute monitors were unin-
teligible; to her, they were the alphabet of
the heart; familiar as household words
And then the future! "What viii become
of me! What shall do now!" She did
not say so-she did not say anything; but she
felt it The prospect of the old wife is
clouded. The home circle Is broken, never
to be re-united-the visions of the hearth
stones are scattered forever. Up to that
hour, there was home, to which the heart
always turned with fondness. But that mag
ic is sundered-the keystone of that sacred
arch has fallen, and now home is no where
this side of haven! Whit shall the old
wife do now? Go and live with her children,
be pensioner tpon their kindness; where
she may be moe of burden than blessing
so at least sie thinks Or shall she gather
up the shattered fragments of that broken
arch, make then her temple and her shrine,
sit down in her chill solitude, beside its
expiring fire ard die? What shall she. do
now?
They gently crowded her away from the
dead, and the undertaken came forward with
the cofiin-lid il his hand. 1t is all right and
proper cnougb-of course 10 must be done
but to the heart mourner, it brings kind of
shudder, a thdl of agony, as when the heads
man comes forward with his axe The un-
dertaker stood for moment with decent
proprety, not wishing to manifest a rude
haste, but evid,ntly desirous to be exped-
tious as possible. Just as he was about to
close the coffin, the old wife turned back,
and STOPPING down, imprinted one long, last
kiss upon Ike cold lips of her dead husband,
then staggered to her seat, buried her face
in her lands, and the closing coffin hid him
from ler sight forever!
That kissl Fond token of affection, and
of sorrow, and memory, and farewell!
haze seen many kiss their dead-many such
sails of love upon clay cold lps-but never
id see one s. purely sad, so simply heart
touching and hopeless rs that! Or If it had
hope, II was that which looks beyond cotfins
and charnel-hoisees, aud damp, dark tombs,
to the joys of he home above. You would
kiss the cold cheek of infancy. There spo-
etry; il is the bast rose bud. Or the palled
cheek where bduty blushed. There is ro-
nance there; fir the faded flower is still
beautiful. In hildhood, the heart yields to
the stroke Of srrow, but recois again, elastic
with faith, bugant with hope. But here
was no beautyho poetry or romance. The
heart of the oil wife was like the weary
.A. |