The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1868-11-19
A CHAPTER FROM DREAM LIFE.

of this paper. now in Missouri has lately
lost by death e'of his household We
find the following article in his paper,
the Warsau Times.
The room is hushed into silence. Only
the ticking of the clock disturbs its still
ness as you watch the fever stricken one,
tossing uneasily upon bed of pain and
restlessness. You watch the flushed face
oh! how earnestly, for favorable symp-
toms, to lift from your heart the load of
uncertainty, anxiety and care. Outside,
the bright moonlight is resting in lowell
ness, upon hill and vale, in softened light
and deepened shade. You watch
through the long hours, hoping against
hope, while the nameless dread steals
slowly over your heart and presses with
mountain weight upon its strings-al
ready wrought to their utmost tension
You watch the face of the kind medical
attendant for the gleam of hope which
confidence in his skill prompts you to en-
courage, even when the fat has gone
forth, and you know that earthly skill
cannot avail. And, as day follows night
and night follows day, you encourage the
hope which is clouded with despair, and
bless the kind hands which relieve the
wants of the sufferer, after exhausted ma
ture demands, and will no longer defer
its claims for your needed repose. Again
the faint tiokings of the time-piece, the
monotonous sound breaking the still
ness with its ominous sounds of dread,
mournful as the notes of the death watch
and you sink into troubled sleep which
Is broken with anxiety, and as the shrill
cry of the death stricken rings out, for
the first time since the quiet of that
deathlike stupor commenced, you spring
from the bed with the intuitive knowledge
that the final hour has come. How the
pleading eyes open and gaze with loving
expression upon your face How the
oountenanee, until now conyulsed with
painful agony, changes to seraphic sweet
ness, as though brushed with the tip of
an angels pinion, and becomes more and
yet more beautiful as it is impressed
with the signet of death. The breath
grows shorter, and you open the door.
but still return to gaze with fearful fas
cinatlon upon the marble brow, until the
casket which held an immortal spirit is all
that Is left to look upon, and you realize
that you are in the presence of the King
of Terrors, but find it difficult to believe
in the first benumbed state of the men
talfacuties, that the cold clay before you
is destitute of feeling, as of sense aud
motion. You cannot believe that the
tones of endearment which you have been
wont to use, fall entirely UNDECIDED upon
the dull cold ears, and it is only hen you
see the loved form encased, by sympa-
thlzlng friends, in the habiliments of the
grave, that you realize the full strength
of the blow which has fallen upon you
How your heart yearns for sympathy,
and notes each sign of coincidence. How
your pride melts when the asperities of
personal or political opponents are forgot
ten, or swallowed up in evident desire to
mitigate or assuage your grief, by kindly
offers of assistance. And as you realize
that amid the perils of the hour, the
wheels must revolye though they crush
your hearts In their course, you feel as
did the soldiers upon the battle field of
duty. when the artillery wagons crushed
out the semblance Of humanity from the
dead form of a father, brother, or
son. Standing for the last time beside
the coffin of the lost one, and trying to
choke back the swelling emotions, how
vivid and life-like is the dream of agony;
how painfully real is that seeming phan-
tom fend whose long bony fingers clutch
yOuI tiliUdl III d StlHlilS SIip HOW YOU
try to shake off the dread nightmare
which settles upon your chest, and how
you struggle to awake from the fearful
dream that is crushing you down.
All, it is no dream that we have tried
to picture 1t is painfully real to thou
sands of bleeding hearts, and will bring
saddened memories to hundreds who
have stood beneath the shadow of the
Death Angels wing. 1t is the terrible
experience which we, during the past
week, have shared with thousands of cur
fellow creatures.
Our youngest bo--the pet of oul
household little prattler whose
CHEEKY laugh and winsome glee have
hghtened so many hours of care; little
RALPH, just turning the first yearly poin
of his existence, was few weeks since
stricken with brain fever, and after in
tervals of terrible suffering called, as We
firmly believe, to a brighter and hap
pier home than earth could give. Gu
hearts are saddened, even when the tur
MOL of political excitement has left u
no time for the indulgence of privat.
grief, and the bright teachings of Chris
tan Philosophy tell us that on the watcl
towers Of our existence truthful senti
mel repeats the comforting assuranc
which soothes and Gains the tired soldier
as we'll as the mariner on lifes tempes
stuous seas, with the familiar warder'
cal. 80 All S well, alfs well"
Sambo was hacking away at tougl
oak when the tightening struck tire
near him shivered it Dress de Lord,
L. II