Marshall County Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1855-1859, 1857-06-04
Letter Of a Dying Wife to
her HuSbanN.

neH Z1uSU6nWs
The following most touching fragment OF
letter from dying wife to her husband,
was found by him some months after her
death, between the leaves of religious
volume which she was very found of peru
sing. The letter, which was literally dim
with tear-marks, was written long before
the husband was aware that the grasp of a
fatal disease had fastened upon the lovely
form of his wife, who died at the early age
of nineteen:
"When this shall reach your eye, dear
George, some day when you are turning
over the relics of the past, shall have
passed away forever, and the cold white
stone will be keeping its lonely watch over
the lips you have so often pressed, and the
sod will be growing green that shall hide
forever from your sight the dust of one
who has so often nestled close to your warm
heart. For many long and sleepless nights.
when all, beside my thoughts, were at rest,
have wrestled with the consciousness of
approaching death, until at last it has for
med itself upon my mind; and although
to you and to others It might now seem
but the nervous imaginiags of girl, yet,
dear George, it is SOL Many weary hours
have l passed in the endeavor to reconcile
myself to leaving you, whom | love so
we'll, and this bright world of sunshine and
beauty; and hard indeed it is to struggle
on, silently and alone, with the sure con-
viction that | am about to leave all for ever,
and go down alone into the dark valley
But know in whom l have believed and
leaning on His arm, i fear no evil Do
not blame me for keeping even all this from
you. How could l subject you, of all
others, to such sorro as feel at parting,
when time will so soon make it apparent to
YOU? / could have wished to live, if on
ly to be at your side when yonr time shall
come; and, pillowing your mead upon my
breast, wipe the death damp from your
brow, and usher your departing spirit into
its makers presence, embalmed in woman s
holiest prayer. But it is not to be--and
submit. Yours is the privilege of watch
ing. through long and dreary nights. fol
the spirits final fight, and of transferring
my sinking head from your breast tc
my Savior's bosom! And you shall share
my last thoughts, the last faint pressure
of the hand, and the last feeble kiss, shal
be yours; and even when flesh and hear
shall have failed me, my eye shall rest OIL
yours until glazed by death; and our spirits
shall hold one last fond communion, unit
gently fading from my view--fhe last o
earth--you shall mingle with the frs
bright glimpses of the unfading glories o
that better world, where partings are un
known. Well do 1 know the spot, dear
George, where you will lay me; often have
we stood by the place, and as we watched
the mellow sunset as it glanced in CULVER
ing flashes through the leaves, illumined
the grassy mounds around us with stripes
of FURNISHED gold, each, perhaps, has
thought that, some day, one of US would
come alone, and whichever it might be,
your name would be upon the stone. Bu
we loved the spot, and l know you vii
love it none the less when you see the same
quiet sunlight linger and play among the
grass that grows over your Mary's grave
l know that you will go often alone. when
am laid there, and my spirit will be with
you then. and whisper among the waving
branches. / am not lost. but gone before