Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1856-05-29
The Young Wife's Death-Bed.

She is dying!-Hush! she is dying! The
sunlight streams through the plate -glas:
windows-the room is fragrant with the
sweet breath or the southern flowers; large
| milk white African lilies; roses, a nightin-
gale would stoop to worship; cape jessa.
mines, and camelias with their large giossv
| leaves.
Through the open easement steals the
| faint musical trinkle of playing fountains
and the light, tempered pleasantly by rose
curtains OF embroidered satin, kindles up
gorgeous old paintings with halo bright as
a rainbow. 1t is as if fre>her sunshine were
falling earthw ard on the bower of beauty.
The canary sings in his gilded cage-her
canary; and the mocking- bird rises his clear
notes higher and higher on the perfumed
air.
Why do you clench your hand till the
nails draw the rich, rosy blood, through the
thin, quivering skin! Why do YOU grind
your teeth together, and hiss, between, that
one werd-hush, Its beautiful home am
sure; and that lady with her head upon your
bosom is as fair as any dream vision of the
painters. Surely nothing could be purer
than tina; broad high brow, nothing brighter
than those golden curls. And she loves you,
tool ah! yes, any one can read in the deep
violet eyes, raised so tenderly to your own.
All! that is it; your young wife loves you!
She linked to yours the existence of an an
gel, when she knelt beside you al the mar
riage altar, and placed her hand in yours.
For twelve, long. golden sunny months
an angel has walked or sat by your side, or
slept on your bosom. You knew it! No
mortal woman ever made your heart bow
before purity SO divine; no earthly en-
brace ever filled your soul with the glory
from beyond the stars; no earthly smile
ever shone so unchangingy above all such
no;some things as you earthworms call care
and trouble. She is an angel, and other an
gels have been singing to her in the long
pleasant days of June.
"Hush!'' you say; but you can't shut out
the anthem notes of heaven from those un-
sealed ears! Louder, higher swells the
hymns of the seraphs; brighter grow the
smiles on your wife's lips.
Sne whispers, "DeareSt j m almost no ne;
and you will come by-and by, and am going
to ask God to bless you!" But you cannot
bea- it; you turn awag, and big tears gather
in the violet eyes. You had held her there
on your bosom all day-all night; are you
tiredl But you can't answer. Closer
closer you clasp the slight fair figure; pain
fully you press your lips to the cold brow
Garry is dead!
What is it to you that the sunshine is |
bright what that its cheerful rays fall on
the broad lands-your lands! What is it
now that she can walk on them no more! |
And what is death--her death! Few people |
knew her; novice President must be chosen
to fill her place no nation will raise monu
ment to her memory. But she was yours;
great God Of ours-your all! No! yours and
Gods; and your year of joy is over, and she
rests on the bosom now in heaven.
-Ffrcy huvc dug grave for hcr.-Sr-;ssg
flowers brighten over it, and the green grass
smiles with daisies and violets. You go
there, and sigh and pray; and ask God if you
too may come home! And, when no answer
comes, your proud heart rises up in bitter
ness; and, with the bold wicked words upon
y our tongue, you pause--for your guardian
angel looks down from heaven, and whispers
Hush"