Elizabeth Amanda Miner, aged 19 years.
In the death of this young lady her friends have suffered a loss peculiarly severe and afflictive. She was endeared to them by every virtue which adorns the female character. Gentle, kind, open-hearted, and affectionate, she won the esteem and affections of all who knew her. Her attachment to her intimate friends was natural and ardent. Her devotion to the happiness and welfare of the family of which she was a beloved member, was constant and hearty. By the severe sickness of her sister, additional cares devolved on her, which she performed in the most devoted and faithful manner, till her own strength failed and she was obliged to yield to the power of a fatal disease. Indeed, in the performance of all the duties that fell to her lot, she was prompt, efficient and faithful. She was ardently fond of children, and on the first Sabbath of her sickness, she spoke with peculiar interest of the Class in the Sunday School of which she then had charge. Her character was harmonious, mingling of purity, delicacy, affectionateness, kindness, benevolence, and true piety. The spirit of vital religion seemed to pervade her entire inward and outward life, bringing her whole nature into a beautiful harmony with the Divine will. In early childhood she formed an attachment which was matured in youth, and which, though interrupted by death, can never be annihilated; for pure affections are immortal. And to Him whose hopes and affections were centered in this lovely young Lady, we tender all that consolation which springs from an unshaken faith in the soul's immortality, and from a firm belief in the recognition and reunion of separated friends in a higher and truer life. Kindred spirits, though separated for a time by material barriers, will, when death is conquered, be attracted towards each other by mutual affinities, and will be forever blessed in each other's society.
The following lines are selected as being beautifully appropriate to the present occasion.
Whose days are past, whose toil is done;
Here, midnight care disturbs our rest
Here, sorrow dims the noon day sun.
For labouring virtue's anxious toil,
For patient sorrow's stifled sigh,
For faith that marks the conqueror's spoil
Heaven grants the recompense---to die.
How blest are they, whose transient years
Pass like an evening meteor flight,
Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears,
Whose course is short, unclouded, bright.
Oh cheerless were our lengthened way,
But heaven's own light dispells the gloom
Streams downward from eternal day,
And casts a glory round the tomb.
Then stay thy tears, the blest above
Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth
Sung a new song of joy and love,
And why should anguish reign on earth.
Vermont Phoenix, December 20, 1844.
Pure in Heart
Have been together called
To see God
The death of Dr. Charles L. Smith, which was announced in our last number of this paper, took place under circumstances of peculiar and painful interest.
He had in early youth formed an intimate acquaintance with, and a sincere and ardent attachment for a near and dear relative of the Editor of this paper, Miss Elizabeth A. Miner, whose early and lamented death on the 14th ult., was recorded in this paper four weeks since. That attachment was reciprocated, and had ripened into the strongest mutual affection, and had led to an interchange of plighted love and faith, as sacred, to pure and loving hearts, as marriage itself.
The death of Miss Miner, the destruction of his fondest hopes for earthly bliss, the sudden crushing of his heart's young and fresh affections, before they had ripened into full bloom, by the iron hand of death, overwhelmed him with the keenest anguish, and seemed to prostrate his whole nature. Life had lost its charm, and the future which just before, seemed clothed in hope and sunshine, was overcast with the deepest gloom. To him, time, at least that small portion of it which elapsed before his own death, seemed to have lost its wonted power of assuaging grief, and healing the wounded heart. He left the place and the scene where the object of his affections had been so mournfully cut down, and visited his friends. But neither time nor distance gave relief to his stricken and bursting heart. The evening before his death, he returned to the residence of the Editor of this paper, where the saint-like departed had breathed her last. He spoke of feeling better than he had for some time. He spent the evening in talking of the departed and early retired to bed. At about 10 o'clock, we were called to his bed side and found him in a high fever, and in the short space of eighteen hours the hand of disease, brought on by excessive mental agony, ended his earthly sorrows, and removed him from this, to another, and we trust a better world.
Thus within less than four weeks, from the death of his dear and departed friend, his own death occurred in the same house, he was borne to the grave by the same bearers, and was deposited by her side in the same tomb. In accordance with his request upon his dying bed, they will be buried side by side in the same grave.
In the obituary notice of Miss Miner, is the following paragraph:
"In early childhood she formed an attachment which was matured in youth, and which, though interrupted by death, can never be annihilated; for pure affections are immortal. And to him whose hopes and affections were centered in this lovely young Lady, we tender all the consolation which springs from an unshaken faith in the soul's immortality, and from a firm belief in the recognition and reunion of separated friends in a higher and truer life. Kindred spirits, though separated for a time by material barriers, will when death is conquered, be attracted towards each other by mutual affinities, and will be forever blessed in each other's society."
No one then dreamed that that "recognition and reunion," would take place so soon. Short indeed has been the separation. May the reunion be heavenly and eternal.
Dr. Smith was a most amiable and worthy young man, and a consistent professor of religion. He had recently located himself in Whitingham, and his prospects of success and usefulness were highly encouraging.
His death, though welcome to himself, for he wished not to live, is deeply lamented by a large circle of attached friends and relatives.
W. T. Lewis, Athol, Massachusetts