The Lambertville press. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1858-1???, 1859-12-07
Letter of a Dying Wife.

HE following most touching frag-
ment of letter from a diving wife
to her husband (says the Nashville
Gazette,) was found by him, some
months after her death between the
leaves of a religious volume which she
was very fond of perusing. The let
ter which was literally dim with her
tear marks. was written long before
her husband was aware that the grasn
OF the fatal disease had fastened upon
the lovely 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 viii be keeping
its watch over the. lips you have so
often pressed, and the sod viii be
growing green that shall hide forever
from you the dust of one who has of
ten nestled close to your warm heart.
For many long and sleepless nights
when all beside nv thoughts were at
rest, I have wrestled with conscious
ness of approaching death, until at last
it has forced itself upon my mind; and
although to you and to others it might
H.
now seem but the nervous Imagination
of girl, yet, dear George, it is so
Many weary nights have I passed in
the endeavor to reconcile myself to
leaving you, whom I love so well, and
this bright world of sunshine and beau
ty 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, T
fear no evil Do not blame me for
keeping this from you. How could I
subject you, Of all Others, to such sor-
row as feel at parting, when time
will soon make it apparent to you'll
could have wished to live, if only to
be at your side when your time shall
come, and pillowing your head on NV
breast, wipe The death damps from
your brow, and usher your departing
spirit into its Makers presence, EN-.
balmed in woman's hottest prayer.
But it is not to be, and ! submit;
Yours is the privilege of watching,
through long and dreary nights, the
spirits final fight, and of transferring
my shaking head from your breast to
my Savior's bosom and you shall
share my last thoughts, 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
antil glazed by death, aud our spirits
shall hold one last communion. until
gently fading from my view-the last
Of earth-you shall mingle with the
first bright glimses Of unfading glories
Of the better world, where partings
are unknown. Well do | know the
spot, my dear George, where you viii
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 US with 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 know
you viii love i none the less, when
| you see the same quiet sunlight lnger
and play among the grass that grows
over your Mqry's grave. know ron
viii go there and my spirit viii be
with you there, and whisper among
the waving branches-I an hot lost
1 Int srana hoforo