The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1859-11-10
LETTER OF A DYING WIFE.

me lOlloWln9 leller from dying vile
to her husband (says the Nashville Ga.
zette,) was found by him some months
after her death, between the leaves Of a
rcigious volume which she was very fond
of pcrusing. The letter, which was lite.
rally dim with tear.marks, 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, 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 lone and
sleepless nights, when all besides my
thoughts were at rest, have wreslled
with the consciousness of approaching
death, until at last it has forced Itself up.
on my mind and although to you and
to others it might now seem but the ner.
vous imagining OF girl, yet, dear
George, it is so
Many weary nights have passed in
the endeavor TO reconcile myself to leav.
ing 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 90
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 even all this from
you. How could subject you, of all
others, to such sorrow as | feel at part
ing, when time vii soon make it appa.
rent to you could have wished to
live, if only to be at your side when your
time shall come, and pilowing your head
on my breast, wipe the death damp from
your brow, and usher your departing
spirit into its Makers presence embalm.
ed in woman's holiest 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 Sayiour'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 azed by death, and our spirits
shall hold one last communion until gen.
tly fading from my view-the last Of
earth-you shall mingle with the first
bright glmpses Of the unfading glories Of
the better world, whore partings are un-
known. Well do | know the spot, my
dear George, where you will lay me Of.
ten 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
US with stripes Of FURNISHED gold, each,
perhaps, has thought that some day one
of US would come alone, and whichever
it might be our name would be on the
stone. But we loved the spot, and |
know you will love it none the less, when
yoz see the same quiet sunlisht linger and
play among the grass that grows over
your Mary's grave. know you will 60
there, and my spirit will be there with
you, and whisper amongthe waving bran.
ches-I am not lost, but gone before"