Gold Hill daily news. [volume] (Gold Hill, N.T. [Nev.]) 1863-1882, 1868-11-19
The Poetry OF Death.

A short time ago, a benevolent man
in San Francisco took an invalid from
the hospital, and had him cared for aud
restored in his own house. The good
man had a beautiful daughter, Of some
fourteen years, and the invalid having
been much in her society and under her
gentle care, fell uncontrollsbly in love.
But, the young girl meant only the
kindness OF humanity, and could make
NO return of his passion. His atten.
lions were forbidden, and, as the tragic
sequel proved, the young mans reason
was overthrown. Having first attempt
ed to poison the whole family, he crept
to the girls room in the night, and
having murdered the object Of his idol
airy, blew out his own brains.
It is, Of course, impossible to think
that Laurentz Jacobson was in his right
senses when the terrible crime was COM
mitted, and it would require the ma
lytical genius Of the opium-eating au-
thor of" Murder as o Fine Art" to fol-
low the operation Of his mind from the
inception of the dreadful purpose to it,
tragic and appalling contamination.
Suffice it to say that we have never
read, either reality or romance, anything
more shocking to human sensibilities,
or moro deeply melancholy in its asso-
Citations. It seems that that which at
6rst may have been pure and ferrent
love, became transformed to ghastly
murder in the horrid laboratory OF
despair.
The poor girl survived her assassin
some twenty-four hours, and she spoke
only once, saying, "Pa, l am cold"
But amid all that had been so sorrow
full, so heart-breaking, so u~nspeakably
crushing in that household, there befel
an incident, there came something mem
orably beautiful-shapes like tho de-
scent of angels to q vale Of shadows.
The school companions of the little suf.
ferer gathered about the house, and the
physicians o permitting them to enter
the room where she was lying, they re-
manned outside all day, and some of
them all night and when she was dead,
hundreds Of sympathetic young friends
accompanied her body to the grave.
Such a mournful cortege Of youth,
beauty and purity had never been seen
in that city Of impulse and passion.
And so, borne away to Lone Mountain,
as it were in the white, round arms Of
girlish affection, and pressed in thought
to snowy bosoms heaving in impetuous
sorrow for her misfortunes, the hRpless
Miss Mcdonald was buried in the very
Poetry Of Death.
We are reminded Of Colonel Bakers
words at the dedication Of Lone Noun
tain Cemetery, ringing like a silver
trumpet in the Valley and Shadow OF
Death : "Hi.her shall come the pale
maiden from the stricken homes OF
affection /; hither shall come the grim
warrior, all CORY from the field Of
strife" Has it not been? And going
before none Of these melancholy pro.
cessions has there been any speeches.
traveller more beautiful than she who
has so sadly fulfilled the prophecy, no
warrior so glorious, so lamented and
immortal as he who uttered IL. But,
solemn and dirge-like as the voices are
that come up from the troubled ocean,
ghostly and pall-like as the shadows are
that overcast those sorrowful nights,
all is not gloomy and hopeless and chilli
ing to the heart. Il cannot be that
God has created one so beautiful, so in
~nocent, so good, to be lost forever, 10
the dreadful vortex Of Annihilation |
The gsntlest flower that is cut down by
the frost, the serest leaf that 10 whirled
in the gales Of Autumn, is restored at
the next coronation Of the year and
though this Scottish class O. Gowrie''
will be found no more among the
heather. blooms around her fathers
house, she will be found all radiant and
expectant on the further shore, not pale
and disigured by the cruel implements
of murder, but glorious and exultaut in
the vigor and beauty Of eternal life
ALL T