Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1869-06-02
The Funeral in The Country

Chill Novembcr's surly blast had blown,
the fields were bare and the distant forest
was waving scarlet signals in the breeze that
sighed so mourniuly over the departed
glories of summer As we approached the
village that nestled so quietly among the
brown hills, we heard the bell toling from
the church tower the knell Of a departed
soul.
Maidens gathered in the street. bearing in
their hands the last flowers Of the year, fresh
and blooming, but so soon to fade, like the
young life that had just passed away. Old
people in their best raiment, wended their
way to the house Of silent rest, and many
eyes were dim, for all seemed dearly to love
the gentle one now so sweetly sleeping.
She was Just II, they said, and so beautiful
and so good they told Of the old widow in
the lane behind the church-yard, whose son
had fallen into evil ways and had gone of to
sea the devoted mother had watched and
waited Tor his coming until hope deferred
made the heart sick; and, like a sunbeam
over her darkened path came this gentle girl,
soothing and cheering her weary soul and
when the old woman fell sick and the doctors
shook their grave but puzzled heads, aud knew
not what to do, she told of the only balm for
the wounded spirit and when the last hour
hastened, she smoothed the pillow and watched
| the heeting breath, still whispering that the
errant one would come; and when the eye
was glazing and the feeble wandering voice
repeated those touching words, " the only son
of his mother and she widow" when the
door opened and the youthful sailor rushed to
the bedside imploring forgiveness for his
wicked ways, when the pearly gates were just
unfolding their portals, and the parting soul
caught the first raptures Of angelic choirs, it
was her voice, that, minging with the harps
of seraphs, spoke in the dying car" He is
come, at last"
Aud they all remembered the poor family
down by the glen, and that bitter night in
December, when she went alone and found
the little children hungry and cold, and with
ont fire, and how she took from her own per-
son her garments to wrap the baby in, to keeT
it from freezing; and when they were all sick
With that fatal and contagious disease, and
every one feared the infection, she went and
succored them. And when kind friends re-
monstrated and told her she was going to her
death, with what a lofty, brave faith did she
say to them Thou shalt not be afraid for
the terror by night; nor for the arrow that
fieth by day; nor for the pestilence that
walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction
that wasteth at MONDAY 4 thousand shall
fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right
hand, but it shall not come nigh thee"
She was well in the morning, they said, but
before night the destroyer grappled with her
Al. l.,4 A n l.,
could do for the rescue failed, and in the still
chamber, with father and mother and friends
around, there came with the morning light
another guest
So stilly, so gently, they hardly knew
but thoy held the mirror to her lips, and il
was undimmed.
And she was only seventeen, and so bcaut
full and so good.
There in the coffin she lay, with wreathi
aud crosses of white lowers upon her breast
her rich brown hair, parted over her pal,
forehead, rested in luxuriant masses upon hel
shoulders.
Spared the wasting Of protracted disease
her check was round and full, and her lip
were gently parted, as though she had smile'
10 taking her farewell Of life.
Her young companions sang that touching
hymn
dearest sister, thou hast len us,n
= And the venerable preacher approached tn
bier, and lifted his voice in prayer.
He was very old man, who had FOLLOWED
to the silent house the wife and all the chill
dren of his love, and was left alone to do hi
weary work until his Masters bidding.
But if life had been II sorrow to him, ye
the JOY with which he looked beyond, seeme
: to have triumph in its nature.
'sOh father, know how hard il is, Oh
mother, know how you are torn by the saw
age darts Of death, for none can feel tn
unutterable woe, but those who have stoo
! over the liicless form of their own darlin
! child
= "Mere words of human consolation ar
vain, and, in the presence Of such sorrow a
! this, know of but one thing to say to afliC
ton: Pray TO God
"I need not be told of the beauty Of he
young life, for, did | not know her history
it might be read in the sweet face lying her
' so motonloss and still. see the loyin
daughter whose every thought was 6lial obC
: dence; | see her when q little child, whe
her Innocent prattle, tho first childish SCUM
\ heard in this house, so charmed the ears Q
! her fond parents. As she grows and ripeu
!" " into womanhood, they watch the youthful
y character expanding and mauiiesting so man
! Of the graees of intellect and affection,
: the advancing years, becoming a companio
: : moro than child delighting father wit
% the force and accomplishment Of mind, and
mother with the beauty and gentleness o
:, heart.
= Like a sunbeam, wherever she goes dark
ness is dispelled and brightness comes he
i. home resounds with the joyous melody of he
% voice, and her younger brothers and sister
regard her more as an angel Of light, than Z
being merely of earth.
p "What we must learn, in scenes such a
this, is, that death is but seeming calamity
! il Is difficult for many to believe, to whom
: life is nov but a charm, but when the fee
Z are weary grown with the long way, and tn
journey is nigh its end, then we may sec am
know.
"a band Of pilgrims thread the mazes o
! tangled forests they know the goodly Lane
, ,, lies beyond, and through thorns and brier'
: and dark fens they struggle on.
"Therc are open places in tho wilderness
1 where the light of heaven CLEANS through
i aud where flowers bloom ard birds sing, but
still our path is onward ever onward into the
dim and silent woods; keeping brave hearts
/ with the hope that is to come.
1 "An angel passes over and takes one from
Ia n 4 r.I.I -