Year: 1869

The Dying Wife to Her Husband.


[The following first appeared many
years ago, and we have probably pub
lished it several times during the last
twenty years. 1t isl good enough to print
many times more, and possibly it may
meet the eye of some of our younger
readers who may not have seen it before,
and who will certainly appreciate its
touching beauty.l


The following most touching fragment
of Letter from dying wife to her
husband, was found by him some months
after her death, between the leaves of
religious volume which she was very fond
of perusing. The letter, which was lit
orally dim with tear marks, was written
long before the 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 eye, dear
G.-some day when you are turning over
the relics of the past, shall have pass
ed away forever, and the old white stone
will be keeping its lonely watch over the
lips you have so ofton pressed, and the
sod will be growing green that shall hide
forever from your sight the dust of one
who has so often nestled close to your
warm beart. For many long and sleep
les nights when all my thoughts were at
rest have wrestIed with the conscious
ness of approaching death, and at last it
has forced itself upon my mind and
although to you and others it might now
seem but the nervous imaginations of q
girl, yet, dear c.. it is SO


"Many weary hours have I passed in
the endeavor to reconcile myself to leav-
ing you, whom love so we'll, and this
world of sunshine and beauty and hard
| it is to struggle on silently and alone with
the sure conviction that am about to
leave all forever and go down alone into
the dark valley. "But l know in whom
have trusted, md, leaning upon His
arm, 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 now feel at parting, when,
the time will so soon make it apparent
to you ? L could have wished to live, if
only to be at your side when your time
shall come, and, pillow your head upon
my breast, wipe the death damps from
your brow, usher your departing spirit
into its makers presence, embalmed in
woman's holiest prayer. But it is not to
be so--and [ submit. Yours is the priv
ilege of watching, through long and
dreary nights, for the spirits final fight
and of transferring my sinking head from
your breast to my Saviour's bosom And
you shall share my last thought the last
pressure of the hand and the last feeble
kiss shall be yours, and even when flesh
and heart shall have failed me my eyes
shall rest on yours until glazed by death
and our spirits shall hold one last com
munion, until gently fading from my
view-the last of earth-you shall min
gle with the first bright glimpse of the
unfading glories of that better world
where parting are unknown. Well do
know the spot dear c., where you
will leave me; often have we stood by
the place, and as we watched the mellow
sunset as it glanced in quivering flashes
through the leaves, and FURNISHED the
grassy mounds around us with stripes of
gold, each perhaps has thought that one
of us would come alone and whichever
it might be, yoer name would be on the
stone But we loved the spot and /
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. know you'll
go often alone there when I am laid


there, and whisper among the branches,
i" I am not lost, but gone before"