Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1861-08-29

things that she read were Motley's letters
on the American Crisis" and the writer
will ever hold in dear memory the oil but
final conversation had with Mrs. Browning,
in which these letters were discussed and
warmly approved. In reference to the at
titude taken by foreign nations with regard
to America, she said, why do you heed
what others say? You are strong, and can
do without sympathy and when you have
triumphed your glory will be the greater. !"
Mrs. Browning S most stenthusiastic admirers
are Americans and am sure, that now she
is 10 longer of earth, they will love her the
more for her sympathy in the cause which
is nearest to all hearts.
HER CONVERSATION.
Mrs Browning conversation was most
interesting. 1t was not characterized by
salies of wit or brilliant repartee, nor was
it Of that nature which is most welcome in
society. IL was frequently intermingled
with trenchant, quaint remarks, leavened
with quiet, graceful hunor Of her own !;
but it was cminently calculated for a tete-a.
tetc. Mrs. Browning never made an insig-
nilicant remark. All that she said was al.
,cttyw worth hearing; a greater compliment
could not be paid her. She was a most
conscientious listener, giving you her mind
and heart, as well as her magnetic eyes. -
Though the latter spoke an eager Ian
guage Of their own, she conversed slowly,
with concsencss and point that, added to
a matchless earnestness, which was the pre-
dominant trait of hor conversation as it was
OF her character, made her most delightful
companion. Persons were never her theme,
unless public characters were under discussion
or friends were to be praised-which kind Office
she frequently took upon herself One never
dreamed Of frivolties in Mrs. Browning S
presence, and gossip felt itself out of place
Yourself mot herself) was always pleasant
subject to her, calling out all her best SYM
pathies in joy, and yet more in sorrow. -
Books and humanity, great deeds, and,
above all, pelitics, which include all the grand
questions of the day, were foremost in her
thoughts, and, therefore, oftenest on her
! lips l speak not of religion, for with her
everything was religion. Her Christianity
was not confined to church and rubzic it
meant cirtH.dtion.
! HER LAST DAYS
Mrs. Browning's illness was only of q
weeks duration. Having caught severe
cold of more threatening nature than
usual, medical skill was summoned but al
though anxiety in her behalf was nccessari-
ly felt, there was no whisper of great danger
until the third or fourth night, when those
who most loved her said they never seen her
so i'll on the following morning, however,
she was better, and from that moment was
thought to be improving in health She
herself believed this; and all had such
confidence in her won1rous vitality, and the
hope was so strong that God would spare
her for still greater good, that dark vail
was drawn over what might be. 1t is often
the case, where we are accustomed to asso-
ciate constant suffering with dear friends,
that we calmly look danger in the face with
out misgivings. So little did Mrs. Brown
ing realize her critical condition, that, until
the last day, she did not consider herself
sufficiently indisposcd to remain in bed, and
then the precaution was accidental. So
to herself that on this final evening, an in.
innate female friend was admitted to her
bedside, and found her in good spirits, ready
at pleasantly and willing to converse on all
the old-loved subjects. Her ruling passion
had prompted her to glance at the "Athene
um" and "Nazione;" and this friend re.
peated the opinions she had heard expressed
by an acquaintance of the new Italian Pre-
mier, Ricasoli, to the effect that his policy
and Cavours were identical Mrs. Browning
"smiled like Italy" and thankfully replied
81 am glad of it, l thought so.'' Even
then her thoughts were not of self. This
near friend went away with no suspicion oi
what was soon to be terrible reality. Mrs.
! Browning i own bright boy babe his mother
good night, cheered by her oft-repeated, IL
am better, DEAR much better" Inquiring
friendsw made happy by these assurances.
One only watched her breathing through
the night-he who for fifteen years had min.
istered to her with all the tenderness of a
woman. 1t was a night devoid Of suffering
to her As morning approached, and for
two hours previous to the dread moment she
seemed to be in partial ecstasy; and
though not apparently conscious of the
coming on of death, she gave her husband
all those holy words of love, all the consola.
ton Of an oft-repeated blessing, whose value
death has made priceless Such moments
are too sacred for the common pen, which
pauses as the woman-poet raises herself up
to die in the arms Of her poet t-husband.-
He knew not that death had robbed him Of
his treasure, until the dropping form grew
chill and troze his heart blood.
At half past four, on morning of the Goth
Of June, Elizabeth Barrett Browning died
of congestion of the lungs. Her last words
were, N is beautiful" God was mcrciful
W ehc cNu, SptTlHS ueT anu ucTS INC agony
of frenzied parting, giving proof to those
who were left of the glory and happiness in
store for her, by those few words, "H Is
beautJM" The spirit could see its future
mission even before shaking off the dust Of
the earth.
Gazing on her peaceful face with its eyes
closed on us forever, our cry was her ''Cry
Of the Human"
| 1--WE tremhle by the harmless bed
| Ol one loved and departed;
Our tears drop on the lips that said
| Last night "Be strongerhearied! ~
| God TO clasp those fingers close,
| Aud yet TO feel no lonely."
/ To see u light upon such brows,
| Which is the daylight only!
Bcpitiul Godw
On the evening of July |, the lovely Eng
lish burying- ground without the walls OF
Florence opened its gates to receive one
more occupant. A band of English, Ameri.
cans, and Italians, sorrowing men and wo.
men, whose faces as well as dress were in
mourning, gathered around the bier con.
tanning all that was mortal of Elizabeth Bar.
rett Browning. Who Of those present will
forget the solemn scene, made doubly i'm.
pressive by the grief of the hu sband and
son? 'The sting Of death is sin, said the
clergyman. Sinlesv in lite, her death, then
was without sting; and turning our thought,
inwardly, we murmure her prayers for the
dead, and wished that they might have beer