Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1859-03-11
is G L l. l. A n Y.
From tho Waterman and Reflector.

TIE TAN UPON THE PAvEMi Mt is
strange, hazy morning in December; no
warm, but with look of warmth in tn,
purple atmosphere. 1t seems as if Summer
turning longingly towards her old domain
had come back to us for day, unable tc
melt Winters sternness with her lies, ye
softly yelling and concealing it in her man
tie Of haze. / sit by my window, and look
out. Wagons and carriages are deploying
by, like procession ofspectres, for l hear
no sound of wheels, no tramp of hoofs. ST.
lentiy and slowly they seem to march, and
every driver, as he passes, turns his eye to the
great house opposite-the house with closed
blinds and muffled bell.
In that stately mansion merchant prince
lies dying. 1t is for his sakc-that no alien
sound may jar upon his sensitive nervcs-that
all among the street, the tan is thickly piled
50 that man and beast pass noselcssly a,
shadows
He has been successful man. Friends are
his. and fortune, which makes friends. His
ships sail the Indian seas, and bring back, in
scents and vases, subtle memories of Ispahan
and Smyrna. Shawls, dipped in the strange
bright dyes that have seethed for centuries
underground, in Indian huts, beneath the
palms, lie piled in his warehouses Fantas-
tic robes, wrought into gossamer, by South
Sea girls; silks, shot through with the
colors of the rainbow Turkish caps and
pipes of Stamboul these has the far East
yielded up for him from her close barred ports,
and the sen has borne his treasure safely.
He has never lost a ship or hope.
The woman he welded brought him not
only her fresh beauty, her young love, but
of stately sons and graceful daughters. In
his heart are no scpulchres no dreary wastes
lit only by gravestones cleaning white His
household band has never been broken. For
him have sprung up roses and lilies of Joy
and peace he has had no need to plant the
cypress and yew Of drear remembrance.
lie has known nothing of the pangs of
hope deferred, the agony Of bereavement.
the anguish of unrequited lovc-why should
he not cling to the life on earth which he has
found 30 bright that he has had no time to
long for the life in heaven
And yet, in the midst of hope and health,
sudden fever has stricken the strong man
down Kind hands soothe his sutfcrings !;
eyes, misty with tears for his sake, strive to
read his unspoken wishes. Everything is
beautiful that surrounds him. On his lofty
chamber walls hang pictured faces. whose
wlldering smiles seem to float on the enchan-
ted atmosphere. Flowers make the room as
fragrant as garden, and a perfume almost
seems to rise from the rival blossoms that
look 30 real on the velvet carpet
In the hall below sits, near the outer door,
q faithful servant. His Office is to see each
OF the throngng visitors-to open the door
on noiseless hinges-to whisper his bulletin
OF tho sick mans health, and transmit, from
intimate friends, their messages of sympa-
thy. For into that hushed and perfumod
chamber must no one come. There shall be
no footballs but those of his nearest and
best-beloved.
Thus has 1t been for two weeks, day after
day, and now, as the slow hours go by of
this hasy winter morning, the faithful war
den sits by the doorway still. Friends move
with hushed steps and low voices through
the quiet chamber, and over the TIN upon
the pavement the wheels roll noiselessly
At first the sick man had dimly seen at
his beds foot an angel with white wings,
whom men call Hope, but the bright angel
vanished in the night, and in his place is
darkness.
1t is noon. The bells in all the churches
ring tho hour; the old town clock strikes it,
the children, running home from school,
seem to dance it in their glee. Have these
sounds, then, diverted the faithful warden
from his post? By him, at last, a visitor
has stolen unchallenged. Silently the new
conner fits up the lofty staircase, enters the
perfumed room. The faithful wife sees him.
and the hand with which she is smoothing
her husbands hair trembles and pauses in
It's task. Sons and daughters shrink from
the shadow of that sable wing. Only the
sick man beholds him not
when get well,' he is saying, "we
will 60 here and there and he wonders
that he receives no answer of pleasure or as
sent. Meantime the visitor steals on, and
his voice breaks the silence-a voice which
seems to come over leagues of Space a sol
emn, Mennonlan, unutterably mourniul
voice:
"Thou shalt 60 with me. Thou canst
recover only in the land where are leaves for
the healing OF nations. Over the high hills
OF heaven must blow the airs whose breath
OF balm can give thee life and strength
land who art thou ?" The sick man
looked at the strange visitor with mournlul
eyes then shuddered, and turned his face
toward the wall. .sNot with thee" he
inurmured, "not with thee. Dark and cold
are the waters, darker and colder the shad-
owy valley. viii no bribes move thce-no
prayers stay thy hand Take, pray thee,
all ! have. My gold and my silver, they are
thine my ships upon the seas my houses
and my merchandise"
'' And We too we will die for bin -
sobbed the loving mourners around the bed
side.
But death looked at the sick man steadily.
',oniy thee" he said, 'only thee Tie
rathcr has called for thee Has thou loved
Ills law and obcyed HIS will Hast thou
sought Him in Ills appointed way? Thou
knowest, u so, lie will guide tLee through
the dark valley, uphold thee in the cold wa
ters' and thy mansion in heaven shall be
falrer than thy lone upon earth
There Was no answer. \ lJw, pasuiug
sigh came from the ciamlny lips-a silver
ran over the sick mans frame. Then came
hush, stilines. more awful than any still
ness If life and the watchers knew that
where one mad enSere. two had gone forth
mat the clay upon the b ID was tanan,e-s
forever
lake away tbs tan. Rattle un over J'lc
pavement, no matter how mcrrily, how nols-
ny: NE can no longer be disturbed by the
sight or sound of earth. Wife and children
are mourning in the silence of the darkened