Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1858-12-09
LETTER OF A DYING WIFE.

The following most touching fragment
OF o letter from a dying wife to her hus-
band says the Nashville Gazette was found
by him, some months after her death, be
tween the leaves of a religious volume
which she vas very fond of perusing.-
The letter, which was literally dim with
her tear marks, was written long before
her husband was aware that the grasp of
fatal disease had fastened upon the love
ly form of his wife, who died at the early
age of nineteen:
When this shall reach your eve, dear
George, some day when you are turning
over the relics Of the past, | shall have
passed away forever, and the cold white
stone will be keeping its lonely watch
over the lips you have SO often pressed,
and the sod will be growing green that
shall hide forever from your sight the
dust of one who has often nestled close to
your warm heart. For many long and
sleepless nights, when all beside my
thoughts were at rest, | have wrestled
with consciousness of approaching death,
until at last it has forced itself upon my
mind and although to you and to others
it might now seem but the nervous mag
ming Of a girl, yet dear George, it is so !
Many weary nights have l passed in the
e~ndeavor to reconcile myself to leaving
you, whom | loved so well, and this bright
world of sunshine and beauty !; and hard
indeed it is to struggle on silently and
alone, with the sure conviction that | am
about to leave all forever and go down
into the dark valley But / know in
whom | have believed" and leaning on
His arm, 81 fear no evil" Do not blame
me for keeping aver all this from you
How could subject you. of all others,
to such sorrow as | feel at parting, when
time will soon make it apparent to you
l could have wished to live, if only to be
at your side when your time shall come,
and pillowing your head on my breast,
wipe the death damps fron your brow,
and usher your departing spirit into its
Makers presence, enbalmed in woman's
hottest prayer. But it is not to be, and
I submit. Yours is the privilege Of
watching, through long and dreary nights
for the spirits final fight, and of rams
ferring my sinking head from your breast
to my Saviour's bosom! And you share
nv last thought, and the last faint pres
sure Of the hand, and the last feeble kiss
shall be yours, and even when the flesh
and heart shall have failed me, my eyes
shall rest on yours until glazed by death;
and cur spirits shall hold one last com
munion until gently fading from my view
THE last of earth-you shall mingle
with the first bright glimpses of the In
fading glories of the better world, where
paintings are unknown. Well do | know
the spot. my dear George, where you will
lay sne often We stood by the place, and
as we watched the mellow sunset, as it
glanced its quivering flashes through the
leaves, and FURNISHED the grassy mounds
around US with stripes Of FURNISHED gold,
each, perhaps, has thought that some day
one Of US would ONE alone, and which
ever it might be, your nam would be on
the stone. But we loved the spot, and /
know yoa will love it none the less, when
you see the same quiet sunlight linger and
play among the grass that grows over
your Mary's grave. | know you will go
there, and my spirit will be with you then
and whisper among the waving branches
- am not lost. but gone before"