The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1877-08-31
NUMBER 81.
Letter of a Dying Wife.

The following most touching fragment
of letter from dying wife to her hus-
band (says an exchanged was found by
him, some months after her death, be-
tween the leaves of a religious volume
which she was very fond of perusing.
The letter, which was literally dim with
tear-marks, was written long before her
husband was aware that the grasp of
fatal disease had fastened upon the
lovely form of his wife, who died at the
early age of nineteen:
"When this shall reach your eve,
dear George, some day, when you are
turning over the relics of the past, !
shall have passed away forever, aud the
cold white stone will be keeping its
lonely watch over the lips you have SO
often pressed, and the sod will be grow
ing green that shall hide forever from
your sight the dust of one who has
often nestled close to your warm heart.
For many long and sleepIess nights,
when all besides my thoughts were at
rest, [ have been wrestling with con-
seriousness of approaching death, until
at last it has formed itself upon my
mind; and although to you and to 9TH
ers it might now seem but the nervous
imagining of girl, yet, dear George, it
is so! Many weary nights have ]
passed in the endeavOr to reconcile my
self to leaving you, whom l love so we'll,
and this bright world of sunshine and
beauty; and hard indeed it is to struggle
on silently and alone, with the sure con-
victiOn that am about to leave all for
ever, and go down into the dark valley!
But know in whom 1 have believed, ;
and leaning on His arm, Il fear no evil
Do not blame me for keeping even all
this from you. How could | subject
you, of all others, to such sorrow as ]
| feel at parting, when time will soor
make it apparent to you? Ieould have
wished to live, if only to be at your side
when your time shall come, and, pill.
lowing your head upon my breast, wipe
the death-damps from your brow, auC
usher your departing spirit into it:
| Makers presence, embalmed in WON
ans hoiest prayer. But it is not to be
and l submit. Yours is the privilege o.
watching, through long and dreary
nights, the spirits final flight. and o
transferring my sinking bead from you
breast to my Savior's bosom! And you
shall share my last thought, and tn,
last faint pressure of the hand, and tht
last feeble kiss shall be yours, and ever
when flesh and heart shall have faileC
me, my eyes shall rest on yours unit
glazed by death, and our spirits shal
hold one last communion, until, gently
fading from my view-the last of eartl
you shall mingle with the first brigh
glimpses of the unfading glories of th,
better world, where partings are un
! known. Well do | know the spot, my
dear George, where you will lay me
often we stood by the place, and, as W,
watched the mellow sunset, as it glancet
in quivering flashes through the leaves
and FURNISHED the grassy mounds aroun,
US with stripes of FURNISHED gold, eacl
perhaps has thought that some day on
of US would come alone, and whicheve
it might be, your name would be on tn
stone. But we loved the spot, and
know you will love it none the les
when you see the same quiet sunligh
linger and play among the grass tina
grows over your Mary's grave. l know
you will go there, and my spirit will b
with you then, and whisper among tn
waving branches, L am not lost, bu
gone before."