Page:The Indian Orphan.pdf/7

62 on the banks of the river. I reached the grave; the newly turned-up earth of its mound was close to another, where the green grass grew in all its rank luxuriance. I looked upon the plain white stone; it was, as my heart foretold, graven with my mother’s name, which had hitherto been concealed from me. I sat down; tears of the most soothing gratitude fell over the graves; I felt so thankful that they were united in death. It was to me happiness, that earth had yet something to which I could attach myself; only those who have wept over the precious sod which contains all they loved, all they worshipped, can tell how dear are these lonely dwellings of the departed. I knelt, prayed, wept, and kissed the clay of each parent's grave by turns; and only the red light of the morning warned me to depart. I went home and slept, and the fearful dream of my feverish slumber yet hangs upon me. I was alone, in a dark and wild desert; the ground beneath was parched, yet the sky was black, and red streaks of light passed over it. I heard the hiss of serpents, the howl of savage beasts; my lips were dry and hot; my feet burned as they pressed the fiery sand; and my heart beat even to agony; when suddenly freshness and sweetness breathed around—there came sounds of music and delightful voices; bright and beautiful forms gathered on the air; I found myself in a green and blessed place. Two came towards me—my father, my mother! they embraced me, and I awoke soothed, with their smile visible before me, their blessing yet breathing in my ears. The next day I embarked,