Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1871-11-15
Jurn.oz,lrr So. ll,h LII.

Ma. EpIIoE The following. is = copy
Of letter sriiten 10 Mr. Miles Bennett
Of tbs place, on receiving the inteiligenos
of Ms. Benneits death, by Mr.. james l.
Whitoonb formerly o. this place. We
send il thinking il worthy Of a place ia
your columns. l.. l.. W.
BArTlz CrnlE, MIolL, Oct 22d, 1871.
Nv FHuDB BESNEII;-
II lie Quiet Sablath, warm a. midsnmmeI
and dry ;fsdrfuliy dry! There has not fallen
one half an inch q rain fuF thrye monihS The
I firc from lighted match would - our town on
firc to-day bsyund any power Nc posses q
quenoh IL. Il is to-day nearly ~ dry a. AZ any
previous time. AZ yet ne have escaped the ter
rible calamity that has visited cur sister towns
but beiore another morning cur town
may be in ashes. In the terrible druuth We an
having, no power can stay the rayages of a hrI
in a town like ours il the flames are onoe kin
died. In Chicago great blocks q Granite build
ings we're reduced 10 lime by the terrible hcat.
and even oast-iron beams were melted as in a
furnace. At Peshtigo the FIRE swept through
the town with the velosity Of the wind, oyertak-
ing twelve hundred human beings, end leaving
their blackened corpses mingled with the ashes,
and Debris Of the smouldering town, or floating
in the river. and still we have no lain TO wet
the parched earth only a shower which the hot
sun In a day or two dries up, leavin everything
apparently dryer than before, and e'er you re
oeiye this, the Telegraph may carry you the
news that other towns are in ashes.-My
Friend, since left you a terrible affection has
visited you under your own roof As set at
my desk and write, seem 90 look away back 10
your little home under the shade Of the naples,
and under the same roof where | with my dear
family have spent so many peaceful, and |
might say happy days and months and |
seem to see you there, sad, Ahl rery sad and
pcry lonely. The dear wife, the remembered
girl of half a century ago, the companion Of
youth the constant associate Of hfty years Is
not there, she has left you. The cheerful voice
is silent. The chair is vacant The hand that
through so many years Of toll has with so much
care provided the frugal meal, or in more re-
cent days of plenty has added so many little
comforts to the hospitabe home is, forever still,
and she a silent resident Of the grave yard,
where so many of my old neighbors and friends
have gone in the short space of two and one
half years. Mother Wetherby is there, and her
frail grand daughter, Mary Ann, has gone to
lay down by her side, while your Dear Friend
has gone to sleep by Cynthia's side Mother
Sears has kindly been laid by the side of her
silent husband and Father Perry MS if he still
chose the companion Of his youth, though silent
in death, has resumed his place always so dear
to him by her side. While Mr. Stafford, Mrs.
Chadwick, Theodore Melvin and Orange Foot,
all tried friends, and true men and women have
gone to their rest. And dear old Mother Chees-
man, whose countenancc even to extreme old age
was an index of the goodness of her heart, and
Joel Davis, sleeps with his Fathers and my old
neighbor Cone and Mrs. Smith are all gone
D death death! Its terrible tread is heard
in every cline in all circumstances at all ages,
every day. in the silent night, in the stiffness
of the hamlet, in the crowded city, terrible is
his tread. Death the first opening of child
hoods reasoning powers shudders at its name,
Youth, middle age, and old age, alikegrow pale
at the mention of the name, yet to meet it face to
face and receive its icy embrace is an ordeal
through which all must pass. Finally, my
Friend | say, be assured you have my warmest
sympathy in your deep sorrow, and may a kind
Heavenly Father support you in your great
affection. and may we all so live that when
death shall come, we may be able to say our
work has been well done and that we may leave
along life's pathway some little lights to bless
those who are so soon to take cur places.
Please remember us all kindly TO your house
hold, and all of our old nighbos. and hoping
we may yet meet again on the shores Of time.
remain as ever, Truly,
J. L. WHITCoMB.