The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1858-04-14
SELECTED.

Letter Of Dying Wife to her Husband.
The following touching fragment Of a
letter from dying wife to her husband
was found by him some months after ner
death, between the leaves of religious
volume, which she was very fond Of
perusing. The letter was written long
before her husband was aware that the
grasp of fatal disease had fastened upon
the lovely form Of his wife, who died at
the early age Of nineteen
When this shall reach your eye, dear
George, some day when you are turning
over the relics of the past, l shall have
passed away forever, and the cold white
stone will be keeping its lonely watch
over the lips you have go 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 a long
and sleepless night, when all besides my
thoughts were at rest, have wrestled
with the consciousness of approaching
death, until at last it has formed itself
upon my mind ; and although to you, to
others it might now seem but the ner.
vous imagining of girl, yet, dear
George, it is so! Many weary hours
have l passed in the epdeavor to recon-
cile myself to leave you. whom l love
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
oil forever and 60 down into the dark
valley "But know in whom I have
believed" and leaning on his arm, Il
fear no evil" Do not blame me for
keeping even all this from you. How
could l 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 upon my breast,
wipe the death damps from your brow,
and usher your departing spirit into the
Makers presence, embalned in woman's
hottest prayer. But it is not to be-and
! submit. Yours is the privilege OF
watching, through long and dreary
nights, for the spirits final flight. and
of transferring my sinking head from
your breast to my Sayior's bosom And
you shall share my last thought, and
the last faint pressure of the hand. and
the last feeble kiss shall be yours, and
even when flesh and heart shall have
failed me, my eyes shall rest on yours
until glazed by death and our spirits
shall hold one last communion until
gently fading from my view--the last of
earth-you shall mingle with tho first
bright glimpses Of the unfading glories
of the better world, where partings are
unknown. Well do ! know the spot,
my dear George. where you will lay me !;
often we stood by the place. and as we
watched the mellow sunset as it glanced
in quivering flashes through the leaves
and FURNISHED the grassy mounds around
MS with the stripes OF FURNISHED gold,
each perhaps has thought that some day
one Of us would come alone, and which
ever it might be, your name would be
on the stone. But we loved the spot,
and I know you 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 60 there. and my spirit will be
with you then, and whisper among the
waving branches-"I am not lost, but
gone before"