New-York daily tribune., 1857-04-21
had pleased God to wipe away the tears from

it had pleased God 10 wipe away the tear, from
her eyes,
But the clouded sunset was close at hand. O.
bleak November day she was tempted 10 indulge in
a walk of seven or eight miles with her husband,
Soon after her return home she was seired with
cold and sore throat, which hung about her for
weeks, and greatly reduced her strength EasIy
In the new year this was increased BY long walk
over damp ground in thin shoes. Her symptoms
now began to grow serious But she tried hard to
Dear up, with her usual patience in sickness. Her
appetite was entirely gone. a wren would have
starved on what she ate during those last six
weeks, says one. In the midst of the distress
thus occasioned, the old servant Tabby. took sick
suddenly and died. The faithful domestic Martha
tendery waited on her mistress and tried 10 cheer
her with pleasant thoughts. 81 dare SAY shaD
b. glad some time" she would say, "but am AZ
;ll-so weary" Then she took 10 her bed too
weak to sit up. From that last couch she wrote
two notes-in pencil. They spoke of her husband
As the tenderest nurse the kndest support tho
best earthly comfort that ever woman had
She never wrote line again. Long days
and longer nights went by; still the same
deadly faintness, still borne on in patient trust.
About the third week in March there waa
change: low wandering derium came on; and ia
it she begged constantly for food and even for sm-
ulants. She swallowed eagerly now; but it w~
too late Weakening for an instant from this stu.
por of intelligence, she saw her husbands woe
worn face and caught the sound Of some murmared
words of PRAYER that God would spare her. Oh"
she whispered forth, | am not going to die, am l.
He will not separate us, we have been 10 happy
Early on Saturday morning, March 81, the solemn
tong of Haworth cburch.bell spoke forth the fact
of her death to the villagers who had known her
from child, and whose hearts shivered within
them as they thought of the two sitting desola'e
and alone in the old gray house.
Few beyond the circle of bleak hills that bounded
her recent dwelling knew that she whose name WAS
famed afar off lay dead that Easter morning. W
her own flesh and blood, more were in the grave TO
which she was about to be borne than among the
living The two mouners stunned with their
great grief. wished to BE- alone small number
only were bidden to the funeral. But the church.
yard was thronged with the poor, the wretched,
the forsaken. who had learned to love one that had
never forgotten them in their times of trial, to SEQ
her laid beside her own people whom mot many
months ago. they had looked at as pale white
bride entering on new life with trembling happy
hope
Such is the story of Charlotte Bronte, moro
touching in its truthful simplicity than the mimic
pathos of romance. Let her memory be left VII re
it is committed with tender earnestness by her ad-
mirabe biographer, not with "the critical unsyn'
pathetic public, who are inclined to judge harshly
because they have only seen super6calIy and not
thought deeply: but with that larger and moro
solemn public, who know how to look with tender
humility at faults and errors; how to admire gen.
erously extraordinary genius, and how to reverence
with warm, full hearts all noble virtue"