The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1870-12-31
OUR SATURDAY NIGHT.
In the Coffin and her Home.


She rests in plain c0f1in-she
who but few hours since was a
loved wife, and loving one. The
home of y brother who with us has
walked in search of light is this
Saturday Night 80 unlike q home
that to be there is agony. But a
week since he was q happy man.
His wife was loved with the most
tender devotion. Love. makes in
this, all men children in proper
ton SO this love is pure. No.
children in rattling with the world
to create something, but child like
in the beautiful, honest, confiding
manhood true men and loving wo-
men 50 admire. And SO he was
like child with her-but a tiger
when fighting the world for her
support and protection.
She was ill one morning. When
he went to his work she said she
would be better by the hour Of his
return. He fastened from his
place of labor, but to find her
worse. Her brow was like a fur
mace from the fever raging in her
blood. Her hands, arms. and
person had not of the eloquent
touch of health. Hour after hour
he stood by her bedside. Day
and night he ministered to her
wants, the love-language Of her
eyes being his food and life the
while.
She grew worse. Remedies fail
| ed, and each day the mechanism
of what we call life was more and
| more ajar.
Last night she went home. AS
the clock struck nine, then came
the hour for her retiring, and out
from the scenes Of earth-from his
noble, tender love-from the little
home he had earned for her to
keep-out from the body and heart
he had so devoted himself to the
care of-a pure, loving spirit pass
ed away, TO find a waiting place
| for him she so loved in the beauti-
full Land OF the Leal 0! Beau
tiful Home that awaits all who
ha, lie here as wo surely shall
have Over there,
To night we called, not to talk,
for words are of no weight at
times. We called to take his hand
to look tenderly and heartily
into his tesr-wet eye, and to ask
our good spirits, who SO often have
come to us with sweet messages
and kind words, to throw their love
and tender care over him, our
friend-poor, heart wrecked suf-
ferer.
In another room, tha an where he
rested on q couch, we found her in
her coffin. We went in alone, save
the presence ofthose not to be seen
by mortal eyes. We could not
help lifting the lace from her face
as she lay there in her departed
resemblance, and look upon the
former home Of her absent spirit.
This was where she lived This
was her abode. This was what
she had of earth 10 which to work
and fit herself for the eternal duty
before us. This was the beautiful
home from which her beautiful
spirit. so full Of love, light, life,
and promise Of happiness had gone
on it's God hidden journeying.
And this was she-no more now
than the marble statue of the child
holding a poor lamb in her bosom,
standing near US as we write. Cold
= lifeless-the work of power the
statue knows nothing of. And to
this we must all come. Well
God speed the day when our work
will be done, if it be well done, as
we try to have it, for then we, too.
can rest, and no more suffer and
endure till life seems such a wea-
ry, weary burthen, but for the good
we can do to and for others.
We found him asleep. In that
tired, nervous, weary sleep that
brings not the rest Of sweet re-
pose. Drawing chair close be-
side his bed. we looked at him, and
pitied him who was to follow her
who had gone to make Home for
him in Heaven, or the Eternal
Resting-place, as he had made one
for her on earth.
And we looked into his heart
into his soul. We saw rising from
the agony. leaves under which his
heart was quivering, words. Would
YOU know what he said-what these
words were-these thoughts which