Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1867-08-03

The letters she wrote to her husband
and her daughter are models of tender
ness and eloquence. Here is her last
letter to Lucille, her only child:
OCTOBER, 1898.
"This is the last time, my beloved
child, l shall ever write to you. l shall
never see you again. Remember your
mother in all your after life. Remem-
ber that you always saw me happy in
the pursuit of duty, so ministering to
the happiness of others, in consoling all
who suffered. Woman's happiness is
only to be found in such a life as this.
"In my prison l was calm and re-
signed, for 1 had no remorse to trouble
me, and the memory of the joy l had
given came back to console me.
81 trust that your life will be less
agitated, your fate less miserable than
mine, but no life is exempt from sorrow
and trial. Keep your life pure and oc-
cupied, and you will find strength to
endure whatever fate may be in store
for you.
"Be worthy of those who gave you
birth, follow their examples, and you
will not have lived in vain.
"Farewell, child of my heart-child
of my affections, whom 1 nourished
from my bosom, whose heart and mind
1 had hoped to enjoy. What will be
your fate? l dare not look forward to
what it might be. Farewell. When
you are older you will understand the
agony of this moment, where mother
in her lonely prison parts thus forever
from her only child. Farewell, fare
we'll, my daughter-my darling"
Her letter to her husband was writ
ten in a moment of despair; she had
intended taking poison. 1t contained
assurance of the tenderest devotion
and affection. Roland was many years
older than his wife, but he had for her
The utmost esteem, admiration as we'll
as the tenderest love. She had been
the inspiration which had led him to
fortune, the head of his party ; his
companion, friend, advisor besides she
had been a most true tender and sub
missive wife. Roland could not sur
vive her.
The news of her execution reached
him through the public papers.
From that hour nothing could induce
him to contemplate life to be bourn
without her.
He was found dead at the foot of a
tree, his heart pierced with a sword
thrust; beside him was paper with
these words:
Whoever you may be who will find
all that remains of me, consign my
body to the earth without remorse, for
l have lived liz of virtue and duty.
When l heard that my wife had died
on the scafold I resolved to die, for 1
could no longer consent to live in a
world sullied by such crime
Nine. Roland's death was an emblem
of herself, at once tender and heroic.
Her beauty, dressed as she was, in
white, with her black hair hanging in
ripping waves to her knees, her fea-
lures calm and grand, her eyes fixed on
Heaven, she attracted and forced the
crowd into silent admiration as she
passed.
Beside her in the cart was an old
man, who wept and shuddered at the
thought of the doom before him.
With gentle words of tender affection
she sustained him, and on the scaffold
she let him die first, that the sight of
her blood might not increase his agony.
Then advancing to the executiouer
she turned to the statue of liberty erect
ed by the side of the scaAold, and utter
ed those celebrated and last words =
"Oh, liberty, how many crimes are
committed in thy namev'
Then bending down, the executioner
severed the lovely head from the body
That form, the idol of SO many, was
thrown into the common grave at Cla-
mart and consumed beneath the lime
thrown on the pile of dead-there was
no time to inter.
A CHILD'S FAITH.-Some time ago
boy was discovered in the street, evi-
dently intelligent, bat sick. A man
who had the feeling of kindness strong
ly developed, went to ask him what he
was doing there.
"Waiting for God to come to me-"
"What do you mean?" said the gen.
tleman, touched by the pathetic tone
of the answer of the boy, in whose eyes
and flushed face he saw the evidence
of fever.
"God sent for mother and father and
little brother, and took them away to
his home up in the sky; and mother
told me when she was sick that God
would take care of me- l have no home,
nobody to give me anything, and so
came out here, and have been looking
up in the sky for God to come and take
care of me, as mother said he would.
He will come, won't he! Mother never
told lie.'
ayes, my lad," said the man, over
come with emotion; che has sent me
to take care of you"
You should have seen his eyes flash,
and the smile Of triumph break over
his face as he said ::
"Mother never told me lie, sir;
but you have been so long on the way"
What lesson of truth and how this
incident shows the effect of never de-
ceiving children with tales.
AN irritable gardener seeing boy
stealing some fruit sworeif he caught him