I had seen the aged pass away, but never the young. And musing long
and sadly upon this event, I sought my home, and spent a restless
night, repeating often the childish hymn, commencing,
"I in the burying place may see
Graves shorter there than I."
But the long night passed away with its sad presages, and the rising
sun peeped between the thick clustering leaves and flowers of the
morning glories that shaded the window, and diffused light and
radiance upon the joyous landscape. The birds awoke to new melody, and
in the gladness that surrounded me I almost forgot the impressions of
the previous evening. I arose, though slightly refreshed, repeating as
I did so,
"So like the sun may I fulfil
The duties of the day."
Almost the first intelligence that greeted my ear was the death of
Elizabeth Ann Prince. While the shadows of that night still lingered,
her pure spirit had passed away, and for the first time I realized
more fully than I had ever done before, that youth is no protection
from death. I saw her in her small coffin, and felt the marble
coldness of her pale brow, and as I saw the coffin descend into the
narrow grave, I turned sadly away with a grief-stricken, and perchance
a better heart. But for many months I could tell the exact number of
nights she had lain buried in the silent grave.
The next morning as I took my seat with a favorite companion, in
the one behind that formerly occupied by her, I almost started as I
fancied that her face was upturned to mine, and those blue orbs rested
upon me.
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