

Rev. ]. I. WARD, Assistant Editor.

PRICE ONE CENT.
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| ing, when the soul was sick with the con.
sciousness that all efforts would be in vain


when the breast was pregnant with
suppressed sigh, struggling for birth-when
the eye was swelling with an unbidden tear,
that would, despite all efforts, bubble up
from its deep-moved fount-the father felt.
that unrelenling death was about to sna
the chords of his heart, already so rudely
wrung by the loss of his darling cherubs,
and make him bankrupt in affection, by
opening the horrid charnel house to receive
its tenants Of clay, when the freed spirit
should leave to rottenness and corruption
the beautiful fabric.


My spirit was again upon the wing: and
like carrier dove, it flew to its point of
destination-the chamber Of death The
father was leaning upon the bed: his head
was bowed upon his hands. Upon the
bed, with cheek whittier than the pillow
on which she lay, the inanimate form of
the mother rested. Her eye was closed
her breast heaved not-still, still, and cold,
like a whitening lily, with her hands cross
ed above her pulseless breast; the brow
was smooth, as though thought, with It's
brain-wrought wrinkles, had fled. There
was no voice or murmur of complaint,
but all was still, hushed, as if death had
become sole tenant Of the chamber. My
spirit had forgotten its sorrows, and gazed


in anxious suspense upon the fathers form.
Slowly he raised his head, to look upon
the dead body of his dear, loved wife
revealing a countenance whence nought
but animate pain, in all its living palor,
gave evidence of existence. There was a
wild, hopeless CLEAN in his bloodshot eye,
and the furrows of anguish and thought
were traced in his hollow cheek. The eye
was fearless, but like the unfountained de-
serted, twas hot and burning, speaking
Of the blasted heart, over which, in all its
terrible power, the whitening simoom Of
grief had breathed its desolation-chang
ing the verdure Of life to the parched and
shrubless sands Of sorrow. There was no
Joy in that once happy heart; grief and an
guish had done their work, and in that al
tered countenance, in eloqent silence, spoke
the untold agony of despair.


A mist spread around my
spirit; and the fathers countenance, the
dead mother, the chamber, all was shut
from my sight. ] was conscious of hol-
low voice, which rung in my ears these
words:


"Mortal be wise Earth hath no heart
untinged by care and sorrow! and Bit
terness is the lot of man. Henceforth, envy
not thy fellow man Be wise Farewellp'
1t was gone.


Iawoke! My vision was true. The
mother was carried to her grave, and at
the tomb saw that the mourner's uncov-
cred head was changing from a jetty black
to grey-the grey Of sorrow.


My heart treasured the spirits lesson,
and ceased to envy-nursing my own
sorrow, believing the time will shortly
come when life and sorrow both shall pass
away.


RICHMOND, Nav s, 1886