Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-01-15

father. During the weeks of my con
valescence he was with me constantly,
and soon he seemed to forget that | was
a child of six, and talked to me more
like woman and a companion.
''You must get better" he said one
day, in the low, solemnly tender voice,
which had oflate become habitual to him
-''you must get better, so you will not
need me so much when | die. Before
the last flowers of the summer have IA
ded, or the last leaves of the autumn
have fallen, | shall go to Helen"
l fully comprehended him, but | did
not sob or mourn. Child as was, | was
not selfish. knew how his heart was
pining for the dead, and would not
have delayed, for any sorrow OF my
own, that there was no hope of being
anything else tina a disigured, helpless
cripple. | got SO at last that with a
crutch, I could make my way slowly a.
bout the lower part of the house and ]
knew this was all to which / could even
look forward.
One day stole into my fathers study.
1t was pitiful thing to see how his
great mind was Frustrated by grief
He moved about the house now, hstless
unoccupied, restless, growing thinner and
winter day by day. He had evidently
not entered his study since her death
The chapter of his last book, on which
he had been at work before he. started
on that fatal drive, lay there unfinished.
The ink was dried up in his inkstand,
and rusted on his pen. She had indeed
been his life, his inspiration, and with.
out her he was nothing. | went out
sadly, and shut the door behind me on
all those buried dreams. those great
thoughts and high hopes which had died
with her. Ny father saw me in the hall
and came to meet me and support me
with his loving arm.
'You do not heed me so much now
Aggie, as you did," he said tenderly
and It's well. Ny time is almost come.
The nurse was in the garden with my
baby sister, and he called her to him.
9'sShe looks much like Helen" he said lif,
ting the child up and placing her on his
knee. agatha, you are the eldest"
knew what these words meant as
well as though he had spoken volumes.
Twas the eldest. Mine, then, he the, hap
tism OF suffering. Twas to shield the lit
tie one, as far as inme lay, from care and
trouble. In after years | obeyed him
faithfully.
But | have much to say. may not
linger. 1t was even as he had said
Not all the flowers of the summer had
faded, not all the leaves Of the autumn
were fallen, when he went to her. He
died very peaceably. There was no dis
ease to which the physician could give
name. 1t seemed like gradual fading
away Of life, because all that made life
lovely had departed. Sincemymother's
death, | have grown almost to worship
her. In constant intercourse with his
mind. sharing at once both his hopes and
his sorrows, my sensibilities, always,
precocious. had deapened-and
was more like woman than child.
sat beside him on that last sad afternoon.
listened, in tremulous eagerness, to the
low tones I might never hear again, and
though my heart was almost breaking,
not for worlds would have panied him
by Sigh or tear.
"You will he very desolate when am
GONE. my little daughter he said, ten
DERBY; ''but God will care for you. Your
lot in life cannot be all darkness, if you
trust in Him, and by and by you will
come tous. Our Savior hath many man.
sions. There is room enough for all
Death is very sweet to me, little Agatha,
for | shall be once more with Helen.
Already her blue eyes look on me from
the distance. Love, | am coning!" He
Law in silence for few moments, and
then drew me toward him and kissed
me- My little sister was also lifted to
his arms, and he embraced her tenderly.
"May the God of Israel bless and keep
YOU. my motherless ones" he murmured,
with hand on the head Of each; and
then, laying his cad down, as if weary,
he whispered-"Hold my hand in yours,
Aggie, till go to sleep"
For half an hour ] sat there, res
olutely keeping back my tears, lest /
should awaken or disturb him, until at
last the rays of the setting sun poured in
at the window and lit up the pale lips,
the dark hair, and the massive forehead,
looking heavier and more giant-like than
ever, contrasted with the wan thinness
Of the lower face.
''Will you please draw the curtain?"
I said to DR.. Wilson, who was also
watching beside him.
at needs not, dear child" he answer
ed solemnly. at viii not waken him.
He is dead"
Alas, alas. No more should earthly
sunsets thrill his heart with their glory,
or earthly dawningS arouse him from
slumber. Standing midway in the jour
ney of life, he had been translated to the
Eternal Day-he had gone to Helen.
Then / wept | was alone on earth,
save the little sister, chattering now, and
laughing, all unconscious of my grief.
Nor was this ALL was cripple, de-
barred from love, from society, from all
that makes the coming life look like a
pleasant land of promise. But in that
hour | drew near, child rs l was, to the
Infinite and out of my very sorrow was
born strength.
They buried my father, as he himself
had entreated IN my mothers grave.
Then l knew they were happy. Even
the sod where the dear forms mouldered
would have no terrors for their love, and
their freed spirits were holding commu-
Mon among the everlasting hills of hea-
ven.
CHAPTER II.
Alone, aloue-all alone,
Alaua IN . ~r-da vida