The Sierra citizen., 1854-12-16
Dovnieye County California Saturday December t. 1854

the door as though some good spirit was
trying to drag him from the den. Ispoke
to him, and half maddened as he was, he
recognized me. We took him to our camp,
and in the morning he had partially re-
covered from his drunken stupor, and he
told me that Isabelle had followed him to
California, and then lived in cabin down
the ravine. Another hour found me in
her lowly dwelling, holding her emaciated
hand in mine, while she told me the story
of her wasted hope. The fountain of her
tears had dried up, and her calm, hollow
voice and quick breathing, convinced me
that the saunds of life had nearly fallen.
spoke cheeringly to her of the future,
that in this golden land there might yet
be days of happiness for her-that Will
liam was not yet lost forever, and that
death had not yet marked her for his own.
But then she turned ler large blue eyes
full upon me, momentarily filled with
light borrowed from heaven, and spoke
Of her only hope beyond the grave, and l
felt ashamed of having tried to deceive
one who was so soon to be in Heaven.
1t was one of those sweet, melancholy,
Indian summer nights, when even the in
valid need not shun the open window; the
golden tinge of autumn had fallen on the
hills, but it was hidden by the curtains of
n ght, fit emblem Of the forgetfulness Of
death. The invalid leaned her head on
her wasted hands, and her glossy tresses
fell over her neck. I crept softly toward
her seat at the window, and laid my hand
on her brow and pressed my cheek against
hers, but oh, they were so moist and cold
that even now / shudder ct the recollec-
ton. She spoke but few words and those
were an earnest petition to save him
She ceased speaking, shudder passed
over her slight frame, then single flush
crossed her pallid cheek, a shadow seemed
to settle for moment on her brow, which
was covered with the clammy dews that
only gather there when the icy hand of
death is upon the heart Another effort
to speak and Isabelle was dead!
was left alone with the clay, and l
was glad that it hid no more sorrow
The neighbors knew that Isabelle was
soon to die, but in an hour when they
thought not the messenger came. l
closed the eyelids of my dead friend-aye,
| had almost said sister, stole away and
left the sad Office of watcher to another
sought my own cabin and cried bitterly
not because she was dead, for / knew that
life was wearisome to her; but because the
friend and playmate of my childhood had
died of broken heart.
The next day somebody dug hole on
the hillside, and the miners threw down
the picks and shovels and walked slowly
up the hill after the little procession, and
stood silently round the grave, while the
clods fell on the first coffin laid in that
burial place. The mound was heaped up
and smoothed over with the miner shovel,
and then all went back to their work, and
the pick shifting on the rock, and the
grating il the gold hunters rocker went
on as before.
What became of William I do not
know; they say he went away with COM
pany of prospecting miners. And now
my story is told; if it should ever fall
under the eye Of any one, who has forgot
ten perhaps the only heart that ever
trusted him, and if it cause him to take
one step backward on the road to ruin,
l shall have had my reward. This is only
one of the sad, truthful stories of Califor-
MIA, that are unwritten, save in the memo
| ry of some lonely watcher, who turns
restlessly on her pillow, dreaming of him
who was to lead her along the path Of life,
but who now like the infant guide of the
blind Belisarius, must lean on her arm
for support, for he has been stung by q
serpent by the way.
1@ A CASE OF DoUsr.-Fond Wife
"And here, my dear, is the little pledge Of
affection that was born soon after yon went
to California"
Husband -" Ahem That was four years
ago; it seems to me that the pledge is ra-
ther small for its age"
/ DAQUEsr1oN FOR THEOLoG1ANs.-Is