A correspondent relates the following ;—A wife who dwelt in the West, beyond the lakes, whose husband is an officer in the army, had not heard from him for some weeks. Two small boys were with him,—their only ones. While she sat at home, reading a paper, her eyes fell upon a notice of the death of her husband. All the tenderness of a mother's love, all the strength of a wife's devotion, nerved her to start immediately for her children, and clasp them to a widowed heart. Day after day passed; how slowly let a mother tell; how tedious let a widow speak who knows her idol broken in a distant land. Two weeks were past ere she reached Vicksburg, Three days a sand bar! What torture! At last she reached the hoped-for city. As the boat neared the wharf one looked at the crowd, and saw her two boys upon ponies, and beside them the father and husband. One long, piercing cry of joy filled the air; the husband flew, rather than ran, and took the lifeless form in his arms. It was too much of joy for a heart overcharged with grief. The strings snapped and reason tottered for a time, to fall, in two days, to the sleep of death.
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