The day book. [volume] (Norfolk, Va.) 1857-1867, 1857-12-14
A Portfolio Leaf.
BY MARTHA HAINES BUTT.

Oh, it is sad to see the young die; to
stand beside the couch and watch the cold
dews of death as they gather upon the
brow-we wipe them away; but ah, they
come but the thicker and faster. All, it
is heart-rending to see one Of the group
snatched away in its very bloom and
loveliness, and perchance the gayest of
them all who enjoyed life to it's fullest
extent-one who made father, mother,
sisters, aye! all happy, whose presence
was like ray of golden sunlight bring
ing Joy even in sadness. 1t is as if a
choice flower were suddenly blighted by
the whitening touch Of death.
One link in tie domestic chain has been
severed-one is missing from the house.
hold-everything brings forcibly to mind
the ''loved and lost" The chamber So
long occupied by the sick one, now de-
serted indeed no footsteps tread lightly,
no feeble voice is heard, no faint light
glinmers at the midnight hour, no anx-
ious mother keeps the watch nor takes
the feverished hand as if almost fearing to
feel the pulse, the great watch Of life lest
it beat even more feebly. 1t was painful
to see her upon the couch of sickness yet
there was great satisfaction to know she
still lived and that converse could be held;
it was pleasant to see sisters smile OF
love, or hear a word Of gratitude spoken
by the sufferer.
But alas all is changed now-she is
gone-oh, it was sad hour among the
dear friends upon earth when the jewel
left the casket. 1t was a triumphant
hour when the angelic host opened the
gates of Paradise to admit that spirit and
place upon the brow the unfading wreath
of immortality. She whispers in the
calmn evening hour g weep not for me,
for I'm happy now"
There is vacancy everywhere-the
accustomed place in the house of God,
which she was wont to fill each Sabbath
in the hours of health the fireside F.; the
table, everywhere
But thou hast gone to thy resting
place; like the weary dove thou hast fcl-
ded thy wings in peace. The evening hour
will seem to bear upon its wings the mes
sage of love to the household band who
mourn thy loss.
Thou art not dead-No! for with thee
it was not death to die; thy spirit hath
burst its prison letters and scars away to
those realms of Joy; cen now thou ro-
NEST at will through the amaranthine
bowers of Paradise, whose unfading flow-
ers bloom where stars are ever bright
and skies cloudless. Like some star
didst thou recede from view whilst we
watched it's brilliancy. No voice can call
thee here again; no tears can bring thee
back to earth
Thou wilt not be forgotten-no! mol
thy virtues, like the perfume which lin
gers round the flower ever after it has
faded, will ever serve to bring thee to
mind. No time can are efface so bright
an image from memory.
INDIA RUBBER SHOES BY MACHINERY.
AS an illustration Of the magical ceeri-
ty with which India rubber shoes are now
made by machinery, it may be stated
that the sheets Of rubber are cut up one
day, and shoes are made the next, and
these are packed ready for the market on
the next, again. There is no sewing or
stitching in the operation Such is the
adhesive nature of the substance that
whenever two surfaces are brought to,
gether they unite as firmly as if they had
never been separated. The only thing re-
quisite after this is so give them coat Of
varnish.
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