The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1867-12-03
The Old yvife,s Kiss.

-NSSAtJ J" ESA AAVih wv SooSASj anu 'oh0
drawn sighs relieved suppressed and
choking scbs, as TIE "mourners prepar-
ed to take leave Of the corpse ~
was an old man who lag here, robed
for the grave. Moro than thres-score
years had wh;tersd those locks, and fur
rowed that brow, aud made those stiff
limbs weary of iife's journey, and the
more willing to be down aud rest where
weariness il no longer burden. The
aged have few to wsep for them when
they die. The most of those who would
have mourned their loss have goaa-to the
grave before them; harps that would
have sighed sad harmonies are shattered
aud gone; and the few that remain are
looking cradle#ard rather than to life's
l-olesing goal; are bound to, and living in
the generation rising, more than the gen
Grafton departing, 9i:a ad3 So 'gaa
Youth and beauty have many admirers
while living-have mourners when dy-
| ing; and many fearful ones bend over
their ccfined clay-many sad hearts fol-
low in their funeral train. But age has
few admirers, few mourners. a
This was an old man, and the circle Of
mourners was small-two children, who
had themselves passed the middle of life,
and who had children of their own to
care for and be cared for by then. Be-
sides these, and few sriendG who had
seen and visited him while he was sick,
and possibly had known him for few
years, there were none others to shed a
tear, except bis old wife. And Of this
small companv the cid wife seemed to be
the only heart.mourner. Itis respect
full for his friends to be sad few mo-
ments, till the service is performed and
the hearse out of sight. 1t is very prop
er and suitable for children, who have
outgrown5 the fervency and affection Of
youth, orshed tears when an aged parent
says farewell, and lies down to quiet
lslumber. Some regrets, somo recolleas
tion Of the past, some tgansitory griefs,
and the pangs are over. NotnalRaYs SO.
But often how littlo true, genuine heart
sorrow there is2 qiddoH atia baas36o-
| The old wife arose with, difficulty from
her seat, and went to the coain to look
her last look--to take her last farewell.
Through the last falling tears shs gazed
long and fondly down into the pale, IN
conscious face. What did she see there?
l0thers. saw nothing but tae rigid fea-
lures of the dead; she saw morei 3 In
|eyery, wrinkle of that brow she read the
history of years. From youth5to man.
hood, from manhood to old age; in JOY
and sorrow, in sickness and health--it
was all there; when those children who
had not quite outgrown the sympathies
of childhood, we're infants lying on her
bosom, and every year since then--there
it was To others, those dull, mute moni-
tors were unintelligible; to her they were
the alphabet of the heart familiar as
household words,
And then the future2 "What will be-
come of me? What shall l do now?p
She did not say so-she did not say any
thing-but she felt it. The prospect of
tke old wife is clouded. The home cir
Gle is broken, never to be reunited; the
visions of the hearth. stone are scattered
forever. Up to that hour there was a
home to which the heart always turned
with fondness. But that magic is sun
/ dered; the keystone of that sacred arch
has fallen, and now home is nowhere this
side Of heaven! What, childrenl be o
pensioner upon their kindness, where she
may be more of burden than blessing
so, at least, she thinks Or shall she
gather up the scattered fragments of that
broken arch, make them her temples and
her shrine; sit down, in her chill solitude
+ beside its expiring fires and die? What
shall she do now?
They gently crowded her away from
the dead, and the undertaken came for
ward with the coffin lid in bis hand. l
is all right and proper-of course-i
must be done; but to the heart-mournel
it brings a kind of shudder; thrill o
agony. sra
!. The undertaken stood for a moment
with decent propriety, not wishing t.
/ manifest rude haste, but evidently desi
rous of being expeditions as possible
7 just as be was about to close the coffin
1.-THE old wife turned hack, and, stoopin,
down, imprinted one long last kiss upol
the cold lips of her dead husband, thel
I staggered to her seat, buried her face il
her hands, and the closing coffin hid hir
from her sight foreyerl at sao - sa,
N That kiss! Fond token Of affection
t and of sorrow, and memory, and fare
e WE'LL l have seen many kiss their deat
d many such seals Of love upon clay col
) Ilips-bu never did I see one so purel
sad, SO simply heart touching and hops
h less as thatl Or, if it had hope it W.
; that which looks beyond cofihs and chal
mel houses, and damp, dark tombs, to h
Joys of the home above. You woul
= kiss the cold cheek Of infancy; there
"A poetry;.it is beauty hushed; there is r,
4 nance there; for the faded flower is sti
q beautiful! In childhood the heart yielt
v to the stroke of sorrow; but recoils agai
y with elastic faith, buoyant with hope.-
!. But here was no beauty, no poetry, /
IS romance. The heart Of the old wife vi
,e like the weary swimmer, whose strengt
h has often raised him above the storm
waves, but now exhausted sinks amid
n the surges. 41 slo sl4size 2ysaal
70 Why should the old love the old,
i. kiss the old, uuloVing lips? All! WI