Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1858-05-05
THE TWO RACHELS.
"Can wealth give hlppinessl Look round and see
What say distressl what splendid misery!
envy rome their pa=eantry and show
envy none TIE gliding ofthei- woe"


Tread softly! we enter the chamber of
disease. Yes, even here. where all is
splendor-where liveriel foo.men pass
quietly like glitteriug shadows-wherc
the treasures of sculpture adorn every |
niche-where the atmosphere is all fra
GRANGE. and every step seems gliding
over bedsof yielding aiowers-even here
came the spoiler.
II is bland region in the sunny South |
of France. Its paradisaical beauties cap
tivate eye and heart. Vine crowned
hills, gardens of roses, homes of magic
al beauty, streams of silvery light, skies
of heavenly soflnes, these have all been
wooed in vain.
''No sweet bird.
That beat the pathless void, but pored notes,
Distinct FROM every plumy rivals song;'
but they fell on the dull ear Of pain. The
laboring chest inhaled the gentle air,
and sank exhausted with the effort
The eye frightened at the beauty, but
dimmed again at the harsh and cruel
touch of pain, jarring heavily rmOng the
delicate strings of the harp we call exis-
tence. We have passed up this broad
stair caise; we will enter yonder suite OF
rooms. Everywhere, luxury-almost
breathing lOveliness upon canvass and
cold white stone. Everywhere silken
hangings, mastery ornaments, and pro-
fuse splendor. Thought moulded beau
ty! treasures of intellect! treasures Of
science! Are you overpOwered with this
profuseness? 1 will give you an anti
dote.
Looking through this exquisitely carved
door, you see the fringed drapery of
bed. Like everything n this fairy place,
it is perfectly modelled, and on its pale
cOverlet paler hand rests. How blood
less it seems! Wax could not be whittier,
nor the petal of the lily purer or more
transparent. As we go farther, the shad-
owy outlines of a form became visible
II is so thin! 20 frail! it scarcely molds
The plant counterpane. Not now as
when moving in regal state, with massy
folds sweeping adown the classic limbs,
is that poor body the admiration of a
million eyes. Alasl not now come the
splendid ibrongs of royal court, blazing
with beauty and with jewels, 70 whisper,
as the dying queen of tragedy throws
her head aside with dying anguish, while
the very muscles of her once round
throat thro5 and palpilate, "How real!
What trausceudant genius!"
Sad, mock sovereignl She acts the
finale TO cal, terrible play! The ag
Ony for breath that size has feigned so
often-ihe frightful cough-lhe palIid,
clammy dew of diseGse-the faint pros
tratioE.-lhe dull langor. touched by fit
fuI flashes of animation into ghas;ly con-
sciousness: these are all realities! There
is the couch-here the vials full of odor.
The shadow of the pail is over the lux
urious chamber of sickness.
That face!-how grand, even in de-
cav! The wide brow is a dome of
thought; but mark how the chisel Of the
sculptor has followed the CLASSY temples,
till they cleave the bone. Those caver-
mons eyes yet flash u clear ire-each
socket a grave in which The light
is 10 be soon shrouded. The lips
are shrunksn with pain, the features
sharpened. and over all, from the pur-
plish gleam of her raven hair to the white
chest that rises under the costly laces Of
her robe, TO the very feet, hatresllessly
disturb the covering. shines aickeying The
strange light of disease, as if some hand
inside were feeding torch that seems
each instant about 10 be qucnched forev
er.
She is restless. Now her hands ny to
the burning brain-now they close over
that upheaving bosom, as if they would
crush the power that destroys. She is
speaking. Tuning those fearful eyes
toward sister, she asks: For what? a
work of heaven? A passage from the
holy book? A sweet hymn of Christ?
Oh! no-none of these.
"Bring ME the robes l wore in Phoe
dra-my boxes Of pearls-my casket of
diamonds?''
They are spread beforeher. She points
her long finger, and with gasping breath
whispers
"That robe 1 wore in 'Camille;' how
lustrous the tints! Those diamonds are
very beautiful! The pearls--they seem
like old and dear companions-shall l
never wear them more? All! the rich
ness!-those colorsl-shake out the man
tle-it blinds me! IT'S like the sun!-I
Observation-Disclosures beyond pricel
IT'S feast for the eyes!-my precious,
my beloved jewels!''
Her head sinks back. An agonizing
sigh flutters on her white lips. A spasm
Of pain darkens the noble face, and she
cries bitterly
al jout done quitter tOut.'' (Must then
abandon all?
Yes, Rachel-all! The gorgeous
stage, the worshiping crowd, the golden