Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1860-11-24

upon earth One moment more. he had
reached the spot, and found his own daugh.
ter Fanny, In bee bridal dress. lying beside
the grave Of her lover with her face upon
the mound, and one arm flung over il
Shocked and alarmed beyound measure, he
called ber by name, laying his hand on her
arm-but she did not rise Dir move, then
looking more closely in her face, he saw
that she was sleeping the strange, sleep
of the somnambulist. He raised her gently
in his arms, and was about TO bear her home
ward, when she awoke to complete con-
seriousness.
Where am p she exclaimed, looking
wildly around.
As tcnderly as possible, her father told
her what had happened, as he half carried
her home. She wept and seemed much
agitated, but begged that she might go qui.
etly to her chamber, without disturbing her
mother
From that night Mrs Austin always re.
mained with her daughter, watching and
Weakening her whenever she rose in her
sleep, put on her bridal dress, and prepared
to steal out to her graveyard tryst. 1t was
needful but it was cruel for from that
time, Fanny sunk in body aud spirit. She
seemed to utterly lack the miraculous sus.
tanment she had known at first--the Wis
ion aud the comfort it brought her were
gone together.
One day seeing her mother weeping, she
said. Is it not written, that man shall
torsake father and mother end cleave unto
his wife ? Can wife do less for her hus.
band Mother God has given me to Henry,
my soul so cleaves to his, that they cannot
be separated and when be calls must 20
to him, even from you'
At a latter period she said, Mother
dear, | want You to see that no costly
shroud is put upon me- but a soft, white
muslin Dress and fold my bridal veil about
me, and put white roses ia my hair, that all
may know that L am his bride and not
Deaths. And oh, mother keep very sacred
the blue lawn wore on that last night, aud
never let them wash Henry's boold out of
it. Most o! all, want you to promise me
to plant, with yonr own hand, that blush
rose-tree that Henry gave ME, betweet1 him
and me, so that the roses will fall upon US
both
Before tue leaves Of the elm tree over
Henry Testers grave were goldeued by the
autumn frosts, his Fanny was laying at his
side. When June came round again, the
grass was long and green, and the rose-tree
grew more beautiful than ever there and
when the evening winds shook the branches,
they scattered sweet largess of leaves up.
on the mounds, and flung out fragrance on
the mir sweeter than aught else, save the
memory of the lovers sleeping below
Often has my mind dwelt long and deep
ly on those dreams, which were yet no
dreams-those sweet, exalted visions, those
frances of love and sorrow, which drew
that tender and delicate girl, arrayed in her
bridal dress, night after night, to the lone
ly grave OF her betrothed. Oh, beautiful,
adorable mystery oflove Oh, grave where
is thy victory Oh mortality, where is
the might of thy prison walls As of old,
an angel came in the nighttime. and led
forth the prisoner.
There is wondrous, hidden life within
us ALL deeper aud trucr than that OF which
we have an everyday understanding aud
consciousness life triumphant over death
and pain and sOrrow-all the mournful con.
ditions of our mortal being. When they
who loved the MAIDEN would have feared
her suffering from the night darkness and
cold, with the grosser physical senses sealed
she walked in light ineffable, and breathed
the soft airs. the balm of celestial day.
When the chill dews decend on her delicate
frame, she was shielded, folded about by
arms of immortal tenderness when the soft
cheek lay against the hard grave-mound,
she was hiding her rapt, contented face in
the bosom other love-