Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1859-03-31

shire, and the gentle Agnes Byrne, she who
was now waiting by the darkling river OF
death!
saw the 'Nun Agnes as we called her,
again before me-with her soft. sunny hair,
her dove-like eyes, and her sweet, classic
mouth. We had been more than common
friends. She was so different from me;-l
she passive, and positive; she weak, quiet,
yielding, child-like; strong, viVaciOus. bold,
uncompromisng, 4 veritable woman even
then. Our love was love of opposites Il
She looked up to me :or hope and strength.
took her under my protection; her tormen-
tors shrank awsy at the sarcasm of nay
words, at the fire in my eyes, at the scorn
upon my lips; she was wholly unaPproach-
able then Oh, how those soft eyes and
crimson lips thanked me for It.
Once we al! three stood together at the
window in No. T. twas calm. starlight
night; we were talking OF the stars. They
were gems to shine in my ebon hair; they
were white bands 10 beckpn on the child of
song; they were beads to string in the ro-
sary of the prayerful Agnes Those differ
eBt expressions were our characteristics
And nov the sNun Agnes was about to go
ON be:ore-to tread the beautiful pathway
of the stars.
laid aside my jewels; put on my sim
| plest dress; parted my hair plainly over my
brow. Was not going to the bedside of
dyins fri. nd! I saw myself in The mirror;
! | thought had never looked so beautiful
before. All! was taking some ofmy pride
with ne.
| Her child led ;he way. He was thinly
! clad. His mothers hair and eyes were
there. but his lips were not SO fine and ex-
pressive. Perhaps suffering had TO do with
tha:. We reached the street where she
lived-the narrow cuurt--the wretched
dwelling. We wen: up the long, winding
stairs-we were in the room
Nun Agnes was beautiful still. Her
face was paler. and her cheeks sunken, but
the same trusting expression was in Ter
eyes. She was still very much like the dear,
sweet girl of the long sgo-like my room
mate in No. Z. She took both my hands in
hers.
well. Falcon, have you comet she said.
They had always called me Falcon al
school. was So bold, SO sweeping, and
would Use so high!
'Yes, Nun Agnes--and to find you changed
so much.'
you have changed, too, Corinne.'
She was looking at my hair and my plain
dress.
Il am still the proud, wilful one--a very
Falcon yet! | haze changed but for The
hour
q am half sorry and half glad, to hear you
say that; sorry because you have not ham ed
for eternity, and glad that you SO reOj:ly
acknowledge your fault. am dying, Co.
rinne.'
'Oh, hope not!'
Her arms were around my neck, and was
weeping bitterly.
Your hope is different from my hope
Yes, am gong at last--to my Fathers
home, beyond those gates studded with
Thousand stars! Will you meet me there
Will you lay aside your follies with your
jewels, and grow lovely in the unspeakabIe
richness OF Christi The werld is vanity;-I
the hope OF earthly life is vanity; the love
Of appreciation is vanity. There is nothing
true but Heagen; DO hope lasting but the
hoTe of eternal life; no appreciation like the
appreciation of God and an approving con.
scie nee Turn TO Him Tor tny sake, Cornne.
Il will, Agnes not for 1our sake, but for
my own. Experience has taugh me how
very, very true your words are. Oh, hope
that God will he merciful with me sti!'
Her psrched lips were kissing mine, aud
Der tears were dropping on my face.
'Oh, am so happy now! happy because
you have promised me that
my garments are VIII my sandals worn,
How piercing the blast-how sharp the thornI
The night is cheeriess-thc Dind is wild.
biy bru ised heart sohs like pitifulchil
Ho long must wait?
O.evermors and lorevermore
Must stand at the beautiful gate?
I'll were queen I'D give my Crown.
Oh, angel it6ni
Or famed, would lay my laures down;
Or rich, I'd yield thee my treasures OF gold,
For my sweet sheter from rain aud cold
How long must wait?
o, evermore and foreyermore.
Would pass through that beauti ful gate!"
is not that pretty, Corinne! Do you re-
nemberit! There was three of Us then
and | aGi the first 10 enter that beautiful
gate o. evermore and lorevermore ="
An hour aitcrward, ard the prayerlul
Agnes was dead. She had taken the veil;
death stood between her, and me. and the
beautiful unknown.
Her little boy sat al the foot of the bed ;-l
there was vacancy in his stare. His griei
was too grea; for ars. smoothed back |
the sunny locks of Agnes, and folded her
thin, white hands over her breast. / kissed |
her lips, but they were, oh, so cold 1t |!
cid me e cd TO be alone with the quiet dead. |
There was calm peacefulness growing
within my soul. The first true, inspired
prayer from my heart went up in thai dim,
old room.
Then rich, full, souorous voice broke
the stiffness. 1t was familiar voice, but
did not dare to lock up. kept my ce
buried in ths pill low. knew it was Ethan
Athol.
'The Lord upholderh all who fall, and
raiseth up all that he bowed down. The
Lord is nigh unto ali them that call upon
Him IN truth. Let all men bless His name
forever and ever. -
He took the cold hand of Agnes Byrne
within his own, and looking Tito her face,
said,
'She has had her wish She Is dead! =
SHE is not dead; but sleepeth,' said.
" l1,l