The Abbeville banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1847-1869, 1857-06-18
SHE Is DYING.

~AAo '0o""S - suohtloiy Ueautnui 8uu
pathetic, and could only have been dicta-i
ted by heart that has experienced all the
bitterness that is therein expressed. Who
the author is we know not, but suspect it
is an extract from somo book. If anybody
can read it without moisture in the eyes
and stones in the throat, they arc worthy
Of marble:
" Hush! she is dying! The sun light
streams through the platc-glass windows
the room is fragrant with the sweet
breath Of the Southern flowers-largo
milkwhite African liles-roses uightin-
gale would stoop to worship; Cape jcssa-
mines and camomiles with their large
glossy leaves.
Through the open easement steals the
faint, musical tinkle of playing fountains
and the light, tempered pleasantly by rose
curtains of embroidered satin, kindles up
gorgeous old paintings with a halo bright
as rainbow. It is as if fresher sunshine
were falling earthward on the bower of
beauty.
The canary sings in his gilded cagc-
her canary; and the mocking- bird raises
his clear notes higher and higher On the
perfumcd air.
Why do you clench your hands until
the nails draw the rich, rosy blood through
the thin quivering skina Why do you
grind your teeth together" and hiss be-
tween, that one VOID, hush? It's beau
tiful home, am sure, and that lady with
her hand upon her bosom, is fair as any
dream vision Of the painter.
Surely nothing could be purer than that
broad, high brow nothing brighter than
these golden curls.
And she loves you, too! All i! yes, any
one can read that 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
angel, when she knelt beside you at the
marriage altar and placed her hand in
yours.
For twelve long golden sunny months
an angel has walked or sat by your side, or
slept in your bosom.
You know it! No moral woman ever
made Jour heart bow before purity so
divine!
No earthly embrace ever filled your
soul with the glory beyond the stars no
earthly smile ever shone so unchanginsly
above all noisome things as you earth
worms call care and trouble. She is an
angel, and other angels have been singing
to her in the long days of this pleasant June
timo.
"Hush," you say, but you can't shut the
anthem notes of heaven from those un-
sealed ears s!-Louder, lighter, swell tho
hymns of the seraphs: brigher grows the
smile OH your young wife's lips.
She whispers, "Dearest, I'm almost
home, and You will come by and by, and
I am going to ask God to bless you -
But you cannot hear it-you turn away,
and the big tears gather in the violet eyes.
You had held her there on your bosom
all day-all night; are you tireda But
you can't answer. CIoser-closcr you
clasp the slight, fair figure; painfully you
press your lips to the cold brow-Carrie is
dead!
What is it to you that the sunshine is
bright; what that its cheerful rays fall on
the broad lands-our lands! What is it
now that she can walk on them no moro Z
And what'is death-her deatha Few peo-
pie knew her: no vice-pResident must be
chosen to fill her place; no nation will
raise monument 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 His bosom
now in heaven.
They have dug grave for her. Spring
flowers brighten over it, and the green grass
SMILES with daisies and violets. You 90
there, and sigh and pray, and ask God if
you, too, may como homej and when no
answer comes, your proud heart rises up in
bitterness, and with the bold, wicked words
upon your tongue, you pause, for your guar
dian angel looks down from heaven, and
whispers" Hush"
Don't Drink B,andy.-Portsps Spirit Of
Times warns ithe good people Of New York,
who occasionally take little "for the
ston,ach's sake" not to drink brandy, or
rather the red liquid which j. shapded ont
to them al tavern counters, under that