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{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p4", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 2115, "word_count": 382, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9280999898910522], "ccnet_perplexity": [1970.4000244140625], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}



On the death of Miss JANE Il. WHEELER,
who breathed her last on board the steamer
" Herald y from Norfolk to Baltimore, Eebru-
AIRY i646 She left North Carolina, some weeks
since, where she had gone for the benefit OF
her health: her friends hoping that w;,rmer
climate might restore the color TO her cheek,
and the lustre TO her eye--but lheir hopes were
doomed to be blighled. Finding herself gradu-
ally sinking, she anxiously desired TO reach her
home, and die surrounded by her friends
Alas! her wish was not grau6ed. On hel
passage from Norfolk. her pure spirit passed
away!


a.'Oh! take me quickly to my home,


Ere tkis weak pulse shall cease TO beat;
And lei nae breathe nay native air,
"a And once again those lov'd ones greet!
"Hasien, oh hasten, ere this frame


Shall sink meath the desuoyer's hand;
And lay me gently down to die,


Amid the zephyrs OF my land!
",This laboring brealh--this hollow cough,
Too surely speak OF swift decay
Aud oh! this burning beat feel E
G MY lie is eDDlnS last away #N
"No dear, familiar friend is nigh,


To wipe these death damps from my brow,
No lov'J ones near my couch OF pain,


To soothe the grief which haunts me now.
''But yes--oh, yes--there is one friend,


Dearer than all-sure He is near,
He smiles, and on my spirit sheds


A calm which quells each rising fear.
~ see bright angels near me stand,


And one gliuering crown. doth bear
Oh list! what silvery notes are those
That round ME swell-they fill the air!
NV mother! oh, see her now,


With form all beautiful and bright,
n She calls me oh what scenes are those
Which dazzling, greet my raptur'd sight,
Her head fell lightly on her breast,


The strings Of life were gently riven
H Her lips were parted. as ia prayer,


And her bright spirit passed to Heaven.
Oh, she was far too pure for EARTH


Then let>no bitter tears be shed
Over her young and sleeping form,


Resting within its earthen bed.
She rests, till the arch-angel's trump


Shall bid the stumbling millions rise
Then she whom now we deeply mourn,
Wen meet, triumphant, in the skies.


NJ E. b.
Georgetown, d. c., February 20, 1916.