The Shasta courier., 1860-02-18
She Is Dying.

The following is sublimely beautiful and pa
thetic, and could only have been dictated by
heart that has experienced all the bitterness that
is therein expressed. Who the author is we
know not, but suspect it is an extract from some
book. If anybody can read it without moisture
in The eyes and stones in the throat they are
worthy of marblei
Hush she is dying The sunlight streams
through the plate glass wndows-the room is
fragrant with the sweet breath of the Southern
f1owers-large milk white African liies-roses,
nightingale would stoop to worship; Cape jes-
samines and camelias with their large glossy
leaves.
Through the open easement steals the faint,
musical tingle of playing fountains and the
light, tempered pleasantly by rose curtains of
embroidered satin, kindles up gorgeous old
paintings with halo, bright as a rainbow. 1t
is as if fresher sunshine were falling earthward
on the bower of beauty.
The canary sings in his gilded cage-her ca
nary and the mocking bird raises his clear
notes higher and higher on the perfumed air.
Why do you clineh yonr hands until the nails
draw the rich, rosy blood through the thin
quivering flesh? Why do you grind your teeth
together, and hiss between that one word hush2
It's beautiful home, I am sure, and that lady
with her hand upon her bosom, is fair as any
day dream vision of the painter.
Surely nothing could be purer than that
broad, high brow nothing brighter than those
golden cnrls.
And she loves you too All yes, any one
can read that in the deep violet ewes, raised so
tenderIy to your own. All that is it; your
young wife loves you.
She linked to yours the existence of an angel,
when she knelt beside you at the marriage altar
and placed her hands in yours
For twelve long golden sunny months an an
gel has walked or sat by your side, or slept in
your bosom.
You know It'll No mortal woman ever made
your heart bow before purity so divine.
No earthly embrace ever filled your soul with
the glory beyond the stars no earthly smile
ever shone SO unchangingly above all noisome
things as you earth worms call care and trouble.
She is an angel, and other angels have been
singing to her in the long days of this pleasant
June time.
"Hush p You say, but you can't shut the an
them notes of heaven from those unsealed ears
Louder, lighter swell the hymns Of the seraphs';
brighter grows the smile on your young wifes
lips.
She whispers, "Dearest, I'm almost home and
you will come by and by, and | am going to ask
God to bless your But you cannot hear it
you turn away, and the big tears gathered in the
violet eyes.
ou nad nelu ner tnere on your bosom all day
all night you are tired? Butyou cannot an
swer. Closer-closer you clasp the slight, fair
figure painfully you press your lips to the cold
brow-Carrie Is dead
What is it 10 you that the sunshine is bright !;
what that its cheerful rays fall on the broad
lands-our lands2 What Is it-now that she
can walk on them no more? And what is death
her death2 Few people knew her; no vice
president must be chosen to fill her place; no
nation will raise a monument to her memory i
But she was yours great God of ours-your
ALL
No-yours and Gods and your year of Joy
is over, and she rests on His bosom now in
heaven.
They have dug grave for her. Spring low-
ers brighten over it, and the green grass smiles
with daisies and violets. You go there, and
sigh and pray, and ask God if you, too, may
come home and when no answer comes, your
proud heart rises up in bitterness, and with the
bold, wicked words upon your tongue, you pause,
for your guardian angel looks down from hea-
ven, and Whispers Hush !"