The weekly Columbian., 1857-03-28
FrorS Hutchings' Magazine.
Cloud and Sunshine.
BY BESSIE.

A blissful dreaminess had rested upon
my heart all day. Oh how could I help
but be happy in this sweet spring-time,
when the skies are so blue, and the earth
SO fair; when little dimpled hands have
placed the early violets in my hair, and
gentle voices. and soft bright eyes have
spoken so pleasantly and encouragingly
to me. Unhappy | could not be, gazing
forth into the glad world, where every
thing I see is type OF heaven, and heav-
en- scarcely hid by the blue between! I
had stood by the window two hours,
though il seemed to me not as many
minutes. A gay procession Of the good,
the true, the beautiful, Of days long gone,
passed in review before me, and gush
of olden melodies thronged every avenue
of my heart-filing it with gladness. In
my selfshness, prayed that | might ever
thus enjoy the beautiful sunlight, and
starlight, and love-light, which made my
hears the dwelling place of such angelic
guests; forgetting for the moment, tho
Marah's bitter waters may have circled
above US, it has been that we might rise
with the pure pearls we have gathered
beneath their dark waves.
A gentle tap at the door, and my rev
cries are dispelled by the familiar voice
of one Of my pupils, exclaiming.
"She is dying! Oh! Mrs. W
Lizzie is dying! Come quick, she is al
most gone! p
Dying? dying? My litsle blue-eyed
pet, Lizzie? who but yesterday was the
light of our charmed little circle -
am by her bedside, and glance al
the little sufferer tells me it is even so. y
Hist the pure spirit approaches nearer
and nearer the shore, where to such as
are Of the kingdom of heaven, every foot
step is upon flowers; and clear and low
murmur the limpid, amber-colored waves
that we call the Jordan of death. See
they are dashing over her, and the COO
spray falls IN pearls upon her forehead
Another struggle, and the frail dwelling
that enthralled her pure spirit, is without
an occupant.
and surely there was room enough in this
great world of ou,s! But death is like
" the fower-girl, who, going forth tc
gather the frst-born of the spring time
the lily, bending with the purest dis,illa-
tions of night, is gathered first" Oh, be
not distrustful We stricken mother--be ST.
lent. Is not yon heaven your daughters
home /! dwells not your FATHER there ?
They brought me the little shroud, and
asked me to put it on, and the ribbon to
tie her hands, those hands which had SC
often clasped my own with such loving
confidence, and smoothed my hair.
They took from her finger ring, and
placed it upon mine, and told me to keep
it, for her sake; and rose-buds and ge.
ran.um leaves, were nesting over the lit.
tie guileless heart, that for two years had
beat lovingly for me.
And now, there are five little graves
up there in the church-yard, which in
that time have been made for those who
have passed out from under the school
room roof, to ga house not made with
hands," Five times has the music which
echoed from heart to heart, been muff1ee
by the shroud- folds, and the funeral pail
Five times have I gone with my little
flock, and folded back the winding sheet
to show them all that remained of thei
playfellow, or classmate,-and to-day we
all knelt around little Lizzie's grave
and prayed, not for long life to any o
us, but that when we shall go hence
we may die as only the pure in heart
can die.
This will be hallowed spot, year:
hence; and loving hands will part the
boughs of the lupine, and read on plair
little head-stone,--" Elizabeth Merker
aged years and four MONTHS