Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1862-08-13
Letter srGm Il Dying Wife to
Her Husband.

The following touching fragment of
a letter from dying wife to her husband
was found by him some months after her
death, between the leaves of religious
volume which she was very fond of pc
rusing. The letter was written long be-
fore her husband was aware that the
grasp 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 eye, dear
George, some day when you are turning
over the relics Of the past, shall have
passed away forever, and the cold white
stone will be keeping its lonely watch
over the lips you have SO often pressed,
and the sod will be growing green that
shall hide forever from your sight the
dust of one who has so often nestled
close to your warm heart.
For many long, sleepless nights, when
all besides my thoughts were at rest, I
have wrestled with the consciousness of
approaching death, until it has formed
itself upon my mind; and, although to
you aud to others it might now seem but
the nervous imagining of girl, yet, dear
George, it is so. Many weary hours
have I passed in the endeavor to recon-
Gle myself to leave you, whom love so
well. and this bright word Of sunshine
and beauty; and hard, indeed, it is. to
struggle on silently and alone with the
sure conviction that | am about to leave
all forever. end 60 down into the dark
valley. "But Know in whom I have
believed" and, leaning upon his arm,
"I fear no evil" Do not blame me for
keeping even this from you. How could
l subject you. of all others, to such sor-
row as I feel Mt parting, when time will
soon make it apparent to you! I could
have wished to live, if only to be at your
side when your time shall come, and,
pillowiug your head upon my breast,
wipo the death-damp from your brow,
and usher your departed spirit into the
Makers presence, enbalmed in woman's
hottest prayer. But it is not to be--and
/ submit.
Yours is the privilege Of watching,
through long and dreary nights, for the
spirits final flight, and of transferring
my sinking head from your breast to my
Savior's bosom. And you shall share
my last thought, and the last feeble kiss
shall be yours, and even when flesh and
heart shall have failed me, my eyes shall
rest on yours until glazed by death; my
spirit shall hold communion until gently
fading from my yiew-the last of earth
and you shall mingIe with the first
bright glimpses of the unfading glories of
the better world, where partings are un-
known. Well do I know the spot, my
dear George, where you will lay me.
often we stood by the place, and, as we
watched the mellow sunset as it flashed
through the leaves, and FURNISHED the
grassy mounds around with its stripes of
FURNISHED gold, each, perhaps, has
thought that some day one of US would
come alone; and, whichever it might be,
your name would be on the stone. But
we loved the spot, and l know you will
love it none the less when you see the
same quiet sunlight linger and play
among the grass that grows over your
Mary's grave. know YOU will go there,
and my spirit will be with you then, and
whisper among the waving branches, II
am not lost, but gone before"