The Dallas weekly herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1885, 1874-01-17
The Dying Wife,

The following most touching irag-
ment of q letter from dying wife to
her husband, was found some months
after her death, between the leaves OF
n religious volume, which she was very
fond of perusing. The letter, which
was Literally dim with tear-marks, was
written long before the husband was
aware that the grasp Of a fatal disease
had fastened upon the lovely form Of
his wife, who died ut the early age of
nineteen:
"When this shall reach your eye,
dear c., some day when you are
turning ovcrthe relcts of the past, ]
shall have passed away forever, and
the cold white stone will be keeping
its lonely watch over the lips you have
so often pressed, the sod will be grow
ing green that shall hide forever
from your sight the dust of one who
has so often nestled close to your warm
heart. For many long and sleepless
nights, when all beside my thoughts
was at rest, l have wrestled with the
conciousness of approaching death,
until at last it has forced iself upon
my mind; and, although to you and
Others ii might now seem but the
nervous imagination of a girl, yet,
dear c., it is so! Many weary hours
have passed in the endeavOr to rec
Oncle myself to leaving you, whom !
love so well, and this bright world of
sunshine and beauty; and hard indeed
tits to struggle on silently and alone,
with the sure conviction that | am
about to leave all forever, and.g0 down
alone into the dark valley! But !
know in whom | have trusted and
leaning upon His arm, Il fear no evil.'
Don't blame me for keeping even all
from you. How could | subject you,
of all others, to such sorrow as feel at
parting, when time will so soon make
it apparent to you? | could have
wished to live, if only to be at your
side when your time shall come, and
plllowing your head upon my breast,
to wipe the death-damp from your
brow, and usher your departing spirit
into its Makers presence, embalmed
in woman's holiest prayer. But 1t Is
not to be so, and submit. Yours is
the privilege of watching, through
long and dreary nights for the spirits
final flight, and transferring my sink
ing head from your breast to my
Savior,s bosom And you shall share
my last thought; and when the last
faint preassure of the hand, and the
last feeble kiss shall have failed me,
my eye shall rest on yours until glazed
by death; and our spirits shall hold
one last fond communion, until gently
fading from view--the last of earth
you shall mingle with the first bright
glimpses of the unfading glories of
that better world, where partings are
unknown. Well do know. the spot,
dear c., where you will lay me;
often have we stood by the place, and
as we watched the mellow sunset, as it
glanced in quivering flashed through
the leaves, and Furnished the grassy
mounds around us with stripes of
FURNISHED gold, each, perhaps has
thought tine same day one of us would
come alone, and which ever it might
be- your name would be on the stone.
But we loved the spot; and l know
you'll love it none the less when you
see the same quiet sunlight linger and
play among the grass that grows over
your Mary's grave. I know you will
go often alone there, when | am laid
there, and my spirit will be with you
then, and whisper among the waving
branches, Il am not lost but gone
beforew'