Litchfield enquirer., 1860-09-20
Miller he saw at-a few rods distance, coming

o read the doctors face, he leaned little fo j. ward, and their eyes met.
 r "Thank Heavenly exclaimed the docto d as he sprang to the side of the coach D thank Heaven you have comew 8 MT. Howard actually gasped for breatl
 and could with difficulty command voice { h say" then am not too late?" d " No, no," said the doctor, "she yet lives + and the coachman at that instant drawin t up the reins, Dr.. Miller took the seat at hi side, and was driven to Mr. Towards 6 Tell me-" said Mir. Howard, as he aligb : ed at his own door, and grasped his friend hand" what have to hope? what have l to fear?"
 f The doctor shook his head. "The feve has made dreadful havoc with her strength, said he, Within the last week she has sun rapidly. l sometimes feared that all woul be over before yon could reach us.' Will she know me?" asked MT. How t ard.
 70, ycs,-but she will te hardly able t. speak to you. Since yesterday. she ha spoken one word only at time, and that ii
 a whisper. But must hasten to prepar her to meet you. have sometimes thoug h ; that the hope of seeing you, has helped t.
 keep her alive"
 The doctor left the room, and MT. How ard walked the floor, with sensations whcl
 the feeling heart may conceive, but which n,
 one should attempt to describe. It seemed an age before Dr. Miller returned, but h came at length, and taking his friends arn within his, to lead him to the chamber said
 Now compose yourself, my dear sir.- Remember that Mrs. Howard is not in sit uatlon to bear strong excitement.
 Mr. Howard spoke not; but the doctor felt his whole frame tremble as he leaned or his arm. Helen's eyes were fastened on the door as it opened. They sparkled like dia monds, and her checks were like the rose To the inexperienced eye, she might have appeared the picture of health, as she was o beauty. She made all effort to raise herself but in vain; and by forcible grasp of his arm, the doctor constrained Mir. Howard to walk across the floor, instead of springing towards her. When he had led him quietly to the bedside, and had seeu his wfe's hands claSped in his, he left them
 What world ofjoy and grief can hu- man heart endure at the same moment of time! How sweet, yet how agonizing was the meeting! How did Helen drink in the words of love and tenderness that her bus band murmured in her ear!-how soothing were the kisses he imprinted on her tcyered brow!--and how precious to him were tue single words of whispered love, that fell from her quive'ng Iips!-aye-a treasure to be the solace of years!
 Beyond expectation, Helen fingered a week after MT. H. $ return; and he scarcely left her by day or by night. For some time the chidren had been at MT. Atwood's, as the sight of them seemed too exciting in their fathers return, they were brought home, to give and to take, the last fond parting kiss As the youngest child was taken from her, Helen looked at the tather,-looked at the little ones, and then raised her fearful eyes to heaven. Words would have been useless had she been able to utter them. Her face expressed far more than language could have done and it's meaning was engrayen on her husbands soul. Two days after parting with her children, Helen breathed out her spirit, while her head reclined on the bosom of her husband, as peacefully and gently as au infant falls asleep in its mothers arms.
 In the solitude-the utter desolation that follows the last sad offices to departed friend, nothing is so natural as to examine every relic they have left behind. Particu- larly do we love to touch, and look at those things, which have not been removed from the position in which the last one placed them. Above, and beyond all, is the value attached to any memoranda-any diary, in which the thoughts and feelings of the de- parted have been last recorded.
 One of Mir. Towards first occupations, when left to himself, after the interment Of his wife, was to examine the contents of her secretary and writing desk, the keys to which had been last turned by her own hand.- He suffered not scrip of paper that bore the mark of her pen, to pass unread. He found much that was interesting g;-much that was calculated to exalt his wife in his opinion, in respect to the qualities both of her head and her heart. In searching the desk, he found in its most secret compart- mcnt, large packet, carefully euveloped in white paper, aud tied with ribband. This he laid aside until he had examined all the loose, and apparently less important papers This done, he took the chair which Helen used to occupy, aud placing it at her table he proceeded to open the packet. It con tained all the letters he had written to his wife before their marriage; one, written by herself, to each of her children, and he hand cd it to them at future day-and last O. all one to himself This he opened witl
 trembling eagerness, and throbbing heart
 It was dated few days later than the las
 he received from her while in Washing ton
 but it was written at intervals. and with evi dent effort. The writing testified how veal and tremulous was the hand that guided th' pen. It was as follows :-
 1fy dear, dear Husband,-
 The days of your own Helen are numbered
 and almost finished. Yesterday l solemnl, adiured Dr. Miller to tell me the worst o my case; and he says that few weeks mus finish my earthly course. And must W part!-forever,- so soon! The yer morning of my life is scarcely past, and ye
 I am summoned'away? How shall bear leave my husband, and my children? i, For many long months past, my heart ha seemed as if congealed in my bosom,--an - in looking back, all seems like trouble
 dream. Have I been in kind of sleep? + Thank heaven, I am awake!-and my heal e beats with fervent love and gratitude, thoug n so soon to cease heating forever!