The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1862-11-13
a Death Bed Promise.
From Chambers journal,

Philip Stourton's wife lay sick of q MOI
tai disease, the doctor had taken hl
departure, after gentle but ominou
words, and the husband and wife wer
face to face in "the valley of the shad
ow of death" Buoyed up to the las
with hope, that might ebb and flow
but had never wholly forsaken them
the doctors warning fell heavily in
deed on their hearts; and the pang
of parting came upon them with pre-
mature and unlocked for bitterness
81 could have wished to live a liJtl
longer with you," said the sick lady
IN 8. momentary luil OF tears, sand no
to leave the bonnie little children 81
soon with no mother to take care 70
them but Philip, you will promise
me this, it is my dying reqnest-do no
put them in the power OF mother wh'
is not their own; such are always cru
ell. For the memory of me, dear Phil
ip, aud for the sake Of the children
promise me not to marry again"
Philip Stourton was silent; lie fell
allthe onerous conditions which pro
mise of this nature involved. How
ever much he loved his wife-and he
loved her devetedly-yet he saw wha
his partner could not see. that, i'll de.
priying himself of his free will to act
he might be creating OF hlmselta life
long burden and sorrow. But his wife
renewed her energies, and clasping him
around the neck in a passion of tears
besought him not to refuss the request
of one SO near the grave. With those
dark beseeching eyes upon him, he
could not deny the petition; he pro-
missed. Nay, she begged him even to
swear that he would be faithful to the
memory, and never wed a second wife
and Philip Stourton took the oath, his
reluctance vanquished by an importu
nifty which it seemed almost cru
city to resist.
The nurse who tended Philips wife
was woman of peculiar tempera-
ment, strictly upright, but fanacical
in her notions Of duty, and with a
strong self-will. She was an old ser>
want, had been in Che family of Mrs,
Stourton's father many years, and had
been selected to accompany the young
lady at the marriage. She had sin
cere attachment to her mistress, who
trusted and favored her, and when the
fact became known that Mrs. Stourton
could not recover, her grief was vio>
lent and uncomfortable. On the day
following the scene above described,
Philip Stourton, walking almost noise
Iessly into his wife's sick chamber, OBJ
served the nurse bending over the poor
invalid, and taking from her hands a
letter, while some whispered lDStruc
tons were being given as 70 its cares
I'm delivery His entrance seemed to
disturb them somewhat; but he vas
700 heavy Of neart to heed anything
except the pale face which looked
wisttully at him from the pillow. 1t
was a sorrowful day, for before it clos
ed his young wife died in his arms.
During the moths of desolate soli~
tude which followed his bereavement,
the circumstances of the promise he
had given never once REQUIRED to his
mind. The great grief swallowed up
all minor responsibilities OF life. HIS
oss was irrepa able, his $ ,rrow incon~
solable, with his heart seated up, as
ne tancied and wished, against conso>
ation, he went on his cherries way.
But the influences winch nature brings
to bear upon US in our mlSiortunes,
though slow and silent in their opera
ton, are in the end irresistible. Griev-
ng constantly over his loss, Philips
sorrow grew less poignant. Ills chil>
dren became more dear to him, and to
a greater degree than he had thought
possible grew to supply the place OF his
dead wife. By degrees their merri-
ment became less grating to his ears,
There were times, too, when his dis
position recovered its natural tone ;
intervals of forgetfulness OF the past
and hopefulness for the future. The
children found kind, but .oster-moth
er In the nurse, and his household wa
a fairly ordered household; yet, not
the bright and complete one which he
knew before the spoiler had trespass>
ed upon it.
So Philip Stourton lived through his
and found, after while, in
his children, bis calling and his books,
both comfort and tranquility.
In his profession of an architect, he
worked steadily and successfully; he
loved it because he excelled in 1t, and
labor of any kind blunted the sense Of
pain and loss. A wealthy manutactur,
er had employed him in the erection OF
some extensive bushes premises, and
afterwards of a private mansion and
on the completion of the latter, arrang-
ed a pleasant party to celebrate the
circumstance. To this festive gather
ing the architect received a kindlye
worded invitation. Philip debated
with himself whether he should accept
it. and finally con yluded to do so. His
wife had now been dead two years,
during which time he had altogether
RETAINED from society. In his hap
pier days he had been anything but a
recluse, for gay and buoyant temper.
m ent had made him the favorlte OF
many circles; and now the Natural de
sire to mix with men once more began
to find place in his mind. His pro
mise occasionally required 10 memory
but had hitherto caused him no en-
barrassment or uneasiness. 1t was NJ
fear on this score that had Influenced
his made Of life hitherto; anu he
thought not at all of the circumstance
when he consented at last to break II
ON the seclusion which had become
habitual. Once under the roof Of hi
hospitable friend, Philips mind quick
" took coloring of cheerfulness ant
gaity in keeping with the scene. Tn
gaiety was, in fact, its most natura
phase, and long constraint served ne
doubt to make each pleasurable i'm
preston more vivid, 1t has been sal,