The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1857-12-02
MEMORY.
BY EMMA F. BARRETT.

A gentle angel art thou, in my saddest hours
lowering ever near me, painting scenes that
| have been enacted in life's drama "long, long
ago." Recalling dreams that with childhood
| brightest hours have died out. There is the
old school house where learned to spell "ba-
ker" and "baby," there the old swing in the
play ground. And row fancy brings again a
sunny, bright haired creature, one whom l
| loved as / only could an idoliZcd sister.
| Sweet Nellie! thou vast too fair for this
world of sin and pain. Thy pure spirit fled ere
| twas tainted with earth-r,ist. remember we'll
how my heart ached as looked round at the
vacant seat and thought how she was anguish
ing on led of pain. How the great tears
came rolling down upon the book l vainly tried
| to study. The stern looks of the teacher could
not guell my emotions. Sob after sob came
bursting forth, until the first burst of so,row
| had subsidized.
Nellie and I for fourteen years had played
and studied together, had wept Ter each Others
sorrows. laughed together in glee, and now
that my heart had learned to love her, like a
| withered bud she must die
! l stood beside her bed. The cool fragrant
| breeze laden with the perfumes of the rose and
.iessemine, came floating through the easement.
lifting the auburn curls that like a cloud fell
Ger the pillow, and kissing her pure brow, left
its fragrance there as sympathy's tribute. The
pearly dewdrop came down and nestled on the
bosom Of the lily, like an angels tear shed for
the frailty Of human life. The bright moon
arose and with "silver sandallcd feet" walked
the pure blue concave above, pouring from her
bowl flood Of radiance, and tie gentle stars
came out enc after another, like gentle spirits
waiting to welcome her home.
Her hand was clasred in mine, the large
lustrous orbs of blue were turned full upon me.
Oh shall I ever forget that gaze 81 am
dying. yet 90 not weep for me-" Her voice
was low and tremulous. 1 felt it indeed too
true, she was dying Give NY love to Miss
Elmore and all the girls, sister; tell them
my arms as if to shield her from the cold cruel
hand of Death. but no, it might not be, upon my
bosom the pure spirit of darling Nellie PASSED
away. was mothcress and as we'll might have
been fathcrlcss. He was a cold stern man of
business. and never thought might yearn for
love. He never took me in his a. ms and carnss-
ed me, never c!aspcd me to his heart and called
me his Allie. and oh how often had yearned
for some faithful loving heart to whom could
confide all my grief; but there are hearts in
this world that must be unloved. And Nellie,
the little sister whom almost worshiped, was
dead! Oh! no, it could not be again and
again gazed upon the pale features. Not a
breath moved the snowy habilimcnts. The
Hinged lids had closed DER those bright eyes
forever. had shut out forever the radiance that
beamcd from her soul. They laid her in the
tomb. Then it was felt l was all alone in the
world. none TO love, none whom could feel
loved ne.
Day after day would go to the quiet little
churchyard, and weep DER the graves of the
loved and lost, and pray that God would take me
too. But years have sped and linger yet on
the shores of time. The little village is now
busting, thriving city. The old school house
is t ri down and a costly edificc erected in it's
stead. Every Sabbath may be heard the solemn
strains of the old .rgan-and the music of 9th
or days come stealing DER me and / find myself
wandering as tonight in the fields Of Old
Memories, gathering sheaves from the garner
of the umelenting past. "Sic transit gloria
mundi."
South Bend, Ind, Nov. 23d, 81.