The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1862-04-11

breaths-for. from an ordinary oil painting,
the likeness had undoubtedly become lie
like figure, or statue, sitting in an alcoye,
the form Of which was made by the frame Of
the picture.
And yet the family took no notice, but ap-
peared US IL, whether or not they wcro con.
scious Of the remarkable thing that was
happening, and did not disturb them in the
least: was nothing at all alarming or pecu-
liar, or out of the tenor of their daily life.
No, not even when, on returning with
book that she had gone to fetch from the
shelves ut the further end of tho room, my
poor little wife caught my hand in spcechless
awe-awe rather than fear-and pointed to
the hitherto empty chair by the firesidc.
II was empty no longer. There, sitting
in tho self.samc attitude as the portrait-
identical with il in shape, countenance, and
dress-was figure. That 1t was a human
figure dare not say, and yet II looked like
one. There was nothing ghostly or corpse
like about 1t, though II was motionl, IS, pas
sonless; endowed, as 1t were, with the
divine calm which Wordsworth ascribes to
Protesilaus:
Elysian beauty. melancholy grace,
Brought nom pensiye, though happy place.
Yet there was an air tenderly, pathctically
human IN the folding of the hands on the
knees, as man does when hc comes and sits
down by his own freside. with his family
round him (: and in the eyes that followed,
one after the other, each Of this family, who
now quietly put away their several occupa-
tions and rose.
But none of them showed any terror-not
the slightest. The presence ut the hearth
was evidently quite familiar awakening no
shudder of repusion, no outburst OF renewed
grief. The eldest daughter said-in q tone
as natural as if she were merely apologising
to us hcterodox or Indifferent strangers for
some domestic ceremonial, rome peculiar form
OF family prayer, for instance:
81 am sure our guests will excuse us II we
continue, Just as IL we were alone, our usual
evening duties. Which Of us is to speak to
papa tonight"
1t was him, then: summoned back, how
or why, or in what form, corporal or incor.
poreal, | knew not, and they gave no ex-
planation. They evidently thought none
was needed that the whole proceeding was
as natural as man coming home at evening
to his own hearth, and being received by his
wife and children with aacctionate lamil-
iarity.
The widow and the youngest daughter
placed themselves one on each side OF the
figure in the chair. They did not embrace
Ii or touch it, but regarded 1t with tender
reverence. in which was mingled certain
sadness; but that was oil. And then they
began to talk to it, in perfectly composed
and mattcr-ol.fact way; rs people would
talk to beloved member Of family, who
had been absent for day or longer from the
home circle.
The daughter told how she had been shop
ping in town, how she had bought u shawl
and bonnet "of tho color that papa used to
like :" the books she had brought home from
the library, and her opinion Of them; the
people she had met in the street, and the
letters she had received during the day; in
short, all the pleasant little chit-chat that
q daughter would naturally pour out to an
afTectionately interested hriny father; but
which now sounded so unnatural, so con-
temptibly small, such mixture Of the ludi.
crous and the horrible, that ones common
sense of the solemn unseen alike recoled.
No answer came apparently none was
expected. The figure maintained It's place,
mover altering that gentle smile-rcminding
one of the spectral Samuels rebuke to the
Witch of Endor-"Why hast thou disqui.
etcd me, to bring me up?" or of that supe-
rior calm with which, after death, VIC may
view oil these petty things which SO perplexed
us once, in ourselves and in those around us.
Then the widow took up the tale, with
regretiul undcrtone of complaint running
through il. She told him how dull she had
been all day; how in tho preparations for
these strangers (meaning my vile and me)
how We shyersd as the eyes of the figure
moved and rested on us. she had found yari.
Gus old letters of his, which yiyidly revived
their happy wedlock days; how yesterday
one Of his former patients died, and to-day
professorshp, which he meant to have tried
for, had been given to gentleman, favor
ito pupil: how that his old friends, Mr..
A. and Sir B. C. had had quarrel,
and everybody said it never would have hap
pened had the Doctor been alive-and 80 on.
and 80 on. To all of which the figure list
ened with its immoyable silence; its settled
changeless smile.
My wife and uttered not q word. We
sat apart, spell.bound, fascinated, neither at
tempting to interfere, nor question, nor re-
buke. The whole proceeding was 10 entirely
beyond the pale Of r,tional cause and effect,
that IL seemed to throw ms into perfectly
abnormal condition. in which we were una.
BILE to Judge. or investigate, or escape IRON
the circumstances which surrounded us.
We know nothing-absolutcly nothing
except the very little that Revelation hints
at, rather than directly teaches, Of the world
beyond the grave. But any one Of us who
has ever seen fellow creature die, has
watched the exact instant when tho awful
change takes place which converts the body
with soul to the corpse without SOUL
must feel certain-convinced by an intuition
which is stronger than all reasoning
If the life beyond, to which that soul dc.
parts, be anything or worth anything. It
must be a very different life from this; with
nobler aspirations, higher duties, purcr nf-
fections. The common phrase breathed over
20 many peaceful dead face, 81 would not
bring him back again II ] could" has a
significance. instructive rs true; trucr than
all misty. philosophical spcculations. tenderer
than all the yagarics of fond spiritualists.
with big hearts and no heads worth mention
ing. III ever ] had doubted this, my doubts
would have been removed by tho sight which
I here depict-of this good, amiable, deeply
beloved husband and father-rcturn in visible
form to his own frcside; no CHASTITY spectre,
hui an apparition full OF mildncss and beauty,