The Lancaster ledger. (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, July 13, 1853, Image 1
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VOLUME II. , LANCASTER, C. H? SOUTH CAROLINA WEDNESDAY MORNING, JULY 13,1853, NUMBER 23
n. 8. DAH.ICY, Uncle Philip looked up in surprise.? | ful day forme. I was to part from mr I hand of diamonds. Her eves *??<> U. I liim li? !? ?.:>?- -:?i. ' * '
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IrUrtfii JkUs.
From the Star Spangled Banner.
UNCLE PHILIPS
EXPERIENCE
In Choosing a Wife.
BT 8 All A ?1 M. lUtWC.
It was a bright, clear, glor'oia winter
morning; the blue sky overhead was j.?m
feetly cloudless, aiul tlx' winter sun shone
down upon the snow-covered earth with a
cheery brightness. Tl e* sleighing was ex
cedent, and every now and then a gay
fancy sleigh would dash merrily by, its
occupants laughing and chatting in high
glee, and its silvery bells ringing out with
a moat cheer chime upou the dear, frosty
air. Everything seemed gay and lively
?even the dogs that were Iriaking about,
looked as if they enjoyed the clear, bright
sun, and tho nucloudod azure of the archI
g sky.
. . i atood stTRv erhtdow, gasmg thonghtf
illy out n|?on the scene, and l^tening to
thd silvery ring of the merry bells, as the
sleighs with their occupants dashed gailv
by. 1 had I tee u almost sick with a severe
cold for more than a fortnight, and had
not stirred out of the house for that time ;
b'lt this morning I was vcy much bettor,
and 1 fvlt a very strong inclination to be
out of llonni willl llin r.ul ?n.l ?
? ? -.... ...^ ,?A
the blight sunshine and clear, fresh air.?
Hut the subject that then filled my inimi
was, which of my friends it would be best
to call on first.
"The gi.rU have nil called on ino since I
have been sick, and 1 owe them all a re
turn,*' mused I, as another sleigh with its
merry chinie swept round the corner,
"there's Clara May, sister Nell told me
wasn't > ey well, and I ought to step in
and see her. And then there's Julia, and
Kate, and Lucy, ami?ah ! now 1 know
where I'll go,'' I suddenly exclaimed, us a
new thought entered my head, "I'll g<>
down and see Uncle Philip, r.nd makii
him tell mo that story he promised to."
And forth with I donned bonnet, shawl,
and rubbers, and was very soon on my
way to Uncle Philip** pretty cottage. A#
the reader U not so well acquainted with
Undo Philip a* I am, it will bo necessary
t1 enlighten him ie?pocting this important
peiwona^. j
Undo Philip Vurnoy is a confirmed old
bachelor of fifty-five. Time has laid some
furrows upon a brow that once bore the
impress of inanly bosuty and nobleness;
and it has dimmed the lustre of that once
brilliant black eye, and has woven silver
threads amid the rich, heavy masses of hi*
raven hair. Thirty years ago, Unde Philip
was a man of 'remarkable personal attractions;
and, as ho inherited a large
fortune, and was, withal, well educated,
noble-hearted, and refined?it was considered
quite a remarkable circumstance that
he still remained a crusty old bechelor.
No, no, I was wrong in saying that;
Unde Philip was not a cnuty old bachelor.
He was the best natured, sunniesttampered.
most cheerful old fellow living;
and I well remember, when I was a little
thing, just old enough to gut into mischief,
if ever I was threatened with punishment
for some naughty prank, I bud only to
run to Uncle Philip, nod he was aure to
hield mr, by some kind of an excuse for
my conduct, from mother's much feared
eeogeance. Consequently, a strong attachment
was formed between myself and
Uncle Philip ; which friendship has coaitinned
unbroken to tliia day.
1 always wondered why auch a man aa
Uncle Philip oould hare been an old bach*
tier; and I had rery oten aaked him to
tell me what the reaaoo mm, but b? had
vjjl naofoen waived the qnaetion by answering
that it waa a long storw. and be would
tell me abont it sometime. And it waa
with a Arm determination to eonrinee UneU
Philip that the long deferred "aometime*
had eertainly come, that I placed
my band upon the knob of Uncle Philip's
door on that bright, frosty morning.
"Ah, you IktTa chicken, is that yon P
aaid Uncle Philip, gaily, taking down kie
heels from the mantle-piece, and throwing
aside Wis morning newspaper, aa 1 entered.
\ The old housekeeper, Margr, with many
natloua qneaboua about my health, assist
w> me to awnwmbn mr*?ir of bonnet
end show!, while Uncle Philip staffed the
?5? Mill t4 woodfMd drew oat the greet
had chatted ewe* fee eometime on reri
? ?n wkjate, *f hare a taror to act of
you."
?i , v*. #fl ?* F 0 5; . jmL <\ . ' fC '
???iit go (Mi, said tie.
' The favor I wish you to grant, is this,"
aid I, with as much gravity as I could
command, "I wish you to tell me, what
in the name of common sense is the reason
you are determined to live and die an
old bachelor?"
A ringing laugh from Uncle Philip, in
which he was joined by Margy, was my
only answer.
"I'm in earnest, Uncle Philip," said I,
looking as vexed as 1 possibly could under
the circumstances, "and you needn't at
tempt to get rid of it by making fun of it
in that style."
"Well, my dear," said he, as soon as lie
could control himself, "I see you are really
bent upon hearing the story, and, if you
are, I know it will be no use at all to deny
you ; so, if you will keep quiet, nnd bo. a
good girl, 1*11 tell you all aloul it.
Delighted with this quick complaisance
willi inv wi*lii"i I liM'ini, !.. ? ??:-i
...j . -r ? ..p ... ii iniuikling,
and drawing .1 low ottoman to Uncle
Philip's feet, I seated myself upon it,
and garni earnestly up into his dark
eyes. Uncle Plnli # smiled at my eagernew,
and, after a moment's thought begm.
" I he story I am about t-? tell you, Marie,
is a truthful narrative of my e.\j?erience
in choosing a wife. I hope \ou will listen
attentively, and profit by it.
"Though I am 110.? an old bachelor, it
it is not because I have never felt 'hat
passion which men call love?for I have
frit it?felt both real, true lore, and the
passionate, anient affection, that many
ofteu mistake for real, sincere, Platoniclove.
"The first time I fell in love, was the
year after I entered college. I was seventeen
then ; handsome, talented, and the
heir to considerable wealth; which attractions
I considered irresistible in the
eyes of all the ladies that I should chance
to meet. I was a favorite with the students
; and there was not one among
them but was proud of tbe friendship of
Philip Vartiey. 1 had been introduced
by them to several of their young lady
friends, and it was not without cause that
I prided myself on the power of my fascinating
manners and handsome face, in
gaining their good graces. As yet, I was
not cniightit^^gpKet of the youthful en
snarer nd I held up my head, and
looked scornfully upon the smiling beaulies
that would have given everything for
my favor, and fondly believed myself invincible.
"Phil,** said one of my college-mate*,
cnteiing my room one glorious moonlight
evening, "I'm going over to see my pretty
cousin, fciielWj Montgomery, to night.?
How would you like to go with me, ami
have an introduction to the little l>eauty I" I
I yawned lazily, and replied?
"Well, I don't care much Al>out it, any I
way. lint is she so handsome ax you tell
of I" I suddenly asked.
"Ye*, Eatelle is really handsome?at i
leant I think she is," replied ny friend,
the Mood Hushing into his Hne face.
"Woll, I'll go and get an introduction, I
and see if she is a? handsome an you rep- 1
resent," replied T, carelessly.
An hour after, I stood with iny friend
U|K?n the steps of Mr Montgomery's pretty
cottage. We knocked, and were shown ,
into the parlor by a sweet little girl, who
informed us that a sister Estelle was at
home."
"The door of the parlor soon opened,
and a young girl, dressed in a beautiful
blue silk dresa, stepped lightly into the
room. I gazed at her face with unfeigned
surprise, and thought she was, in truth,
the loveliest girl that I hail ever met. I ,
faintly heard my friend's?"Philip, this is
Misa Montgomery?Uotisin Estelle, this is
my friend, Mr. Varney"?ami I rather
awkwardly sustained my part of the in- i
traduction.
"Estelle was beautiful, and, I thought,
most surpassingly lovely. She had rosy
-.-.i i:.- i?? ?
t??ciu ?uu n|"?, origin inKOI fy?, and
ber brown hair fell in natural ringlet* to
her waist. It was true she lacked all the i
charms of truly intellectual and noble
beauty, but I did not see that, then.
"I remained at Mr. Montgomery's dor- ,
ing the evening, chatting gaily with ??telle,
while her eldest sister, a fair girl of ,
eighteen, sat quietly conversing with my
friend. When I left the house, I was
madly, passionately, deeply in love. I
saw that the impression I had made upon ,
Estelle was fsr from unfavorable; and I
had strong hopes of winning the charming
beauty for myself. i
"Days and weeks passed on ; and almost
every evening was passed at the
house of Retells Ifontimmerv. T IavmI
Retelle with all the passionate, enthusiastic
fervency of a youthful and ardent mind,
and I believed that she loved me ardently
in return. I was never easy away from
her?my studies were neglected?my
pleasures unattended, and I gradually became
moody, thogghiftil, and absent
minded. My companions were unceasing
in their endeavors to torment rue; I ooutd
not meet one of them anywhere, but he
w< uld smile, and say, "Well, Phil, bow
ia Eatelle to-day f And this kind of
ieasing, though it was all weH enough
meant, did not very well pi ease me.
"Weeks part, the term bad cjpeed, and
the day bad arrived whew I wan to leave
the town of L?.the scene of my soilage
days, and?ErteOe. This was a sorrow
sweet Estelle, and leave her behind me, to
return to my home in a distant city. It
was Friday eve?early the next moiningl
was to leave in the cars for homo. It was
a glorious moonlight evening; every tree,
bush and flower was clad in a robe of rich,
silvery light. I sat by the side of my beloved,
in an arbor of her father's garden,
with her little hand clasped in mine, her
head bowed upon my shoulder, while with
ray arm around her, I pressed her closely
to my heart.
"Dearest Estelle," said I, my voice choked
with deep emotion, "I must leave you
?you will bo true to mo, will you not,
dear Estelle 1"
"I am yours till death, dearest Philip,"
murmured the young girl, sobbing bitter'y
"I drew from my finger a beautiful diamond
ring, and slipping it upon the finger
of Estelle, I murmured ?
"Wear this for my sake, dear Estelle ;
and whenever you feel that you can love
mono longer,send me this as a token that
you are no more mine. If ever I receive
this ring from you, I will release you from
_ll - "
an your ?ows to me."
"O, dear Philip, how can you talk so ?
you know my love will cease only with
my life!" aobhed Estellc, with a fresh burst
of tours.
"For half an hour we sat silent, clasped
in each other's arms, sobbing and weeping
in uncontrolablc anguish. The inoon was
going down in the west, and I felt that
the parting hour had come. I strained
her form closer to uoy bosom and murmured?
"Dearest, dearest, Estellc, I must leave
you I"
"O, the agony of that moment, when
we bade each other a tinal farewell. We
renewed our pledges of constancy, and
then, with one long embrac.-, I tore myself
from her. I rushed to my room, and
throwing myself upon my bed, I sobbed
inyaeif to sleep.
"I returned home, lonely and disconsolate.
My homo had lost its charms for
me; my heart was far away with my
beautiful Kstelle. For a year wo correaI
onded regularly. At first I thought Esteile's
letters were the handsomest and
sweetest I ever saw; but, as my passiona
to love cooled, I began *o realize that
iheie was not quite so much intellect in
them as I had at first imagined. B"t
still I loved her, passionately, madly wildly
; and looked eagerly forward to the
time when I should call the be tutiful Eatelle
Montgomery my bride.
"A year had passed since I partes! with
Estelle, and I was contemplating a visit to
L?, to again meet my future bride. I
was waiting for a letter from Estellc, hefore
I weut, lor I had written her, inform
ing her of my intention, and was iinpat'ent
to know with what favor she received
it. The letter came in due time, and it
waa with a happy smile that I broke the
seal of the delicate, snow-white envelope,
and unfolded the snowy sheet. But it
quickly vanished, as from the unfolded
letter fell my diamond ring! With a
I'outiteiiance pale as marble, I glanced at
the letter ; it ran as follows:
44Mr. Varruy?Enclosed you will find
your ring, which you placed upon my fing'-r
a year since, when we parted, ami assured
me if ever I sent that ring back to
you, you would release me from all my
vows to you, I know you well enough to
believe that you will be true to your word.
Respectfully Yours,
Kstkli.k Montoombrt."
"A month after, I saw in the newspapers,
the notice of the marriage of a distinguished
military officer, with the heartless
Kstelle Montgomery ! So ended my firtl
lovt.
"My disappointment, after all, was not
so great as I had expected it would be.?
1 didn't even break iny heart about it. 1
minglod freely in society, and within a
month I laughed over my disappointment
as gaily as any of my companions. Kstelle
Montgomery and her perfidy were
soon forgelten, and I was ready to fall in
love again.
A?| |t>ua nnur ninafoAn Is n **
ever, lively, intelligent, and fascinating in
manners, and I knew welt, that in whatever
society I mingled I should be a general
favorite. Preparations were being
made for a splendid ball on New YearV
eve, and I, being fond of pleasure as any
of them, engaged freely in the enterprise,
and gave both time and moooy to it. I
bad determined to go, and, if tt was possible,
I was bound to have a glorious
time.
MNew Year's eve at length arrived;
bright, clear, and splendid. I entered the
ball-room at an early hoar, with a little
blue-eyed fairy leaning confidingly on my
arm, and blushing and smiling meet bewitchingly,
as she heard the murmurs of
applause from all parta of the already
crowded room. I led her to a seat, and,
as we did not then feel inclined to danee,
I sat Hn>n Kw Km ai<U itul U tt*
midst of lardy chef, when ft couple entered
ftt tbe door, who instantly claimed
my entire attention. The gentleman w n
nothing more than ordinary ; but the lady
?it k impossible to describe her I I
thought the, and I atil) think that she
was toe mow iwauwai ewp?B t frtrem.
"She waa dremed in anew-white satin,
gliuerjng with jewels, while her magnHh
oent men ringlets were bound back by a
I , jflhfrmifii nrtfrjiiB
black, large and brilliant, and their dark
fire told of southern blood. But it is useless
to attempt to describe her ; enough,
that she was most brilliantly beautiful;
and I fell in love with her at first sight.
"Half an hour passed; when, as I was
standing by ooe of the large windows,
alone, gating out upon the star-gcinmed
heavens, a hand was laid lightly upon iny
arm, and turning, I beheld my friend,
Frank Wilson, standing beside inc, with
the stranger beauty leaning upon his arm.
My heart leapt to niy throat?my brain
whirled?and I was just conscious that
Frank was introducing me to "Miss Amanda
Sinclair, of Charleston, S. C."
"By a great effort, I recovered my selfpossession,
and drawing the arm of Miss
Sinclair within my own, I led her to a seat,
and sitting down by her side, I endeavored
to draw her into conversation. She was
a brilliant convener. Her mind was well
cultivated, and she had read history, poetry,
and philosophy, to a considerable extent,
and conversed most fluently upon
them all. I was charmed- fascinufn.l?
thoroughly in love. The dancing commenced,
and I secured her hand for the
cotillion. She was a faultless mover ; and,
as I led the beautiful southern girl to a
seat after the dance was finished, I felt
proud indeed of iny charming partner.?
The hours flew on like moments until midnight,
and, just as the first stroke of the
midnight l?ell rang out upon the air, a silence
as of death, suddenly settled down
upon that brilliant assembly. The Old
\ ear was gone?the New Year was rising
in all its splendor! We scarcely breathed
as we counted the strokes of the bell.?
Clear and silvery they rang out upon the
silent air?nine, ten, eleven?Fire% fire,
fire ! rang a startling voice from another
part of tho great, hall, and the Yiext instant,
a cloud of smoke, folio wed by a flash of
brilliant flame, burst into the raom.
Everything was in the greatest confusion.
Shrieks and scteams were mingled
with shouts and curses; and every one,
intent upon securing his own safety, rushed
promiscuously to the crowded enlranco
of the hall. Clasping the fainting Amanda
tightly to iny bosom, I made iny way,
as best I could, into the street, and was
soon safe from the burning building.?
Amanda soon regained her consciousness,
and, as I paited with her at the door of
her residence, I promised to call upon her
the following day.
"Days and weeks passed ; and it was
currently reported in the higher circles of
society, that Philip Varney and Amanda
Sinclair were engaged. Though this w??
not a fact, still I w#s determined that it
soon should bo so ; for I knew that the
peerlesa Ainada was as deeply in love
with me as I was with her. thouch as ret.
the language of the eves only had spoken
it.
"It was a bright, glorious, Spring morning,
and I had curled my hair in most
beautiful style, and donned my beat coat
with the intention of taking a walk with
my beautiful Amanda. I had made up
my mind to "pop the question" that morning
; and my hand trembled visibly as I
opened the door and entered, as was my
custom of late, without ringing. The parlor
door was a jar, and I softly entered.
There was uo one in the room, but the
folding doors were about half opened, and
I could plainly hear voices from the inner
parlor. I started back in surprise, but
something seemed to chain me to the spot,
and I could not but listen.
"Stop your crying, you little brat!"
spoke up the voice of Amanda, though in
a far different key from what I had ever
before heard it, as sho stamped her little
foot angrily upon the carpeted floor. The
little girl whom she had addressed, still
continued sobbing, though it was evident
that .she restrained herself as much as
possible.
"I say,stop your noise!" again exclaimed
Mia* Amanda, th;s time in a higher
key than before. "What's the use of your
making such a fuss about a broken doll!
I don't care if I did break it, now you
make such a rumpus about it."
"But, ma'am," sobbod the little girl,
uiv uuii wnn iiiwuici juh
before she died, end I can't help?"
' Stop!" creamed Mite Sinclair, in a terrible
voice, "If yon don't hut up, and stop
yoor crying entirely, I'll knock your head
off."
"My ere* were opened to the true character
of Amanda Sinclair. Much m I had
loved her, and often as I had pronounced
her fanltlesa, I now shrank with horror
from one who could give way to temper
aa she had done. But I had little time to
reflect much, for the folding doors were
thrown hastily open, and Amanda herself
appeared. Her flushed eheeks Itecame
pale as marble, the expression of anger
gave place to one of shame and despair,
nnd endeavoring to force a smile, she said,
"Excuse me, Mr. Varney?I was not
aware that you were present."
Bowing with ootd politeness, t replied?
"I know yon wee not aware of it, Mies
8indatr, and I am thankftil you was not,
as the circumstance has shown me your
true character. Henceforth, we are ae
strangers. Uood morning."
And taking my hat, I left the boeea, a
wiser, if not a happier man. I never sew
Amanda after that; she left far the South
immediately, and 1 afterwards learned, be
eaaa the wile of a plantar. I don't envy
...... ..... uo^iucs) niui ni? uvHuuiui urme,
if she is what she was thirty years ago.
Two years passed away ; most of this
time I spent at college, busily engaged in
studying my Greek and Latin, and determining
to have nothing more to do with
the girls. Many tried to captivate me
with their chartns, but none succeeded,
and I thought myself invincible to Cupid's
darts.
After having finished my college studies,
I returned again to my city home.?
Balls and parties were given by manoeuvering
and ambitious mothers, in honor of
my return, and beautiful and fascinating
(laughters tried all their arts to entrap me,
but in vain. But I was determined not
.? k.. ??1.? 1 -e i -
v.? isk bnu^ih, nnu 01 wiiju worm my determination
was you shall soon see.
It was a bright cold winter's evening.
I had been invited to a party out at Mrs.
Lenox's, and having nothing else to do, I
finally concluded to go. It was a select
party, yet rather a largo one, for Mrs. Lenox's
parlors were well filled when I arrived.
As I entered, a ringing peal of the
most silvery laughter I ever heard struck
upon ray ear, and instantly aroused ray
curiosity to see the one from wh< m it proceed
e?
"Ah. Mr. Varney, you've come at last,'
smilingly said my hostess, as she approached
me and slipped her arm within mine;
'I've been figctting this half hour f r fear
you wouldn't come. There's another
!>eauty here to night ihat you haven't seen
yet?Miss Jessie Irving, the most charm- I
ing girl, I'll be bound, that vou ever met.
Ooine, Mr. Varney, I want to introduce
you to her."
In a few moments I found myself sitting
by the side of Miss Irving, and chatting
with her with all the freedom of an
old friend. She was a perfect little spite,
that girl won, -with an inoxhauotibla fund
of wit and sarcasm, and a faculty of doing
and saying things in the drollest and most
comical manner ; it was no wonder that
she fascinated every one she met. A train
of admirers always followed her, and these
she kept in a continual roar of laughter
by her brilliant sallies of wit and keen,
cutting sarcasm. Some ono had taken
the trouble to inform her that I was very
wealthy, and decidedly one of the best
matches in the city, and consequently she
did her best to ensnare me in the toils of
passion. And she was successful ; for, before
I left the house that night. I was
again deeply, passionately in love. The
wit and beauty of Jessie living had en- I
snared my heart, and I was determined. I
if possible, to woo and win I er.
By the aid of Mrs. Lenox, I ascertained
the residence of Jessie, and caller! upon
her. She was even more charming and
fascinating than beforo. She was in the
best of spirits, and after entertaining me
for some time with her lively conversation,
she sat down at the piano, and played and
sang several beautiful pieces. She was a
charming singer, and as I hung over her,
and turned over the leaves of the music,
and listened to the rich tones of her silvery
voice, I felt that Jessie Irving was indeed
the realization of the ideal that I had so
long cherished in my heart.
My only real happiness now was found
in the society of Jessie Irving. Though
she somotiines turned her cutting sarcasms
upon me, and caused the laughter of (he
company to be directed to me, still she was
so charming, so facinating, that I could
not but forgive her, and love her all the
more madly for it.
i wo montns passed thus, and I had determined
to open my heart to Jessie upon
the first favorable opportunity, and receive
from her an affirmative or negative answer
to my proposal.
'It was a still, cloudy evening, when,
for the third time that week, I entered the
parlor of Mr. Irving to spend the evening
with Jessie. Mv heart beat with unusual
quickness as I discovered that she was
alone. Now, thought I, is my time; I'll
known before I leave, whether Jessie will
be my wife or not Jessie seemed gayer
and merrier than ever. She chatted and
aang, and laughed and played, until it waa
near nine o'clock, when, all in a moment
ahe ace mod to relapse into a more thoughtful
mood. I noticed it, and gently taking
her hand, aaid?
'Jessie, dear, what ia the matter?'
'Nothing,' replied the, without raising
her head.
'Jessie,' I exclaimed, throwing myself
at her feet snd clasping her hand passionately,
'I?I can't help it?I must?I say?
I?the fact is. Jessie I Intra vnnt'
1 felt as if a stone weight had been removed
from my heart. There was no reply,
and I went on?
,Dearest Jessie, I love you passionately
devotedly, madly. I shall die if I am deprived
ik your blessed society. I can't
live without you. Dearest Jessie will you
be minef
Still there was no reply.
Only one word, dear Jessie, say only
one word, that I may know I shall yet be
KaupyF I exclaimed in the agony of suspense.
.
"Dear Philip?there is something?
your?the?"she hesitated.
What, dearestI" I asked, tenderly.
"Your?the?the?your?"
"Say on, densest Jessie," said I, with
nervous anxiety.
"T1n??the?your bosom frill te smash ed
down on one side!" exclaimed Jessie,
and, an instant after, a ringing peal of
/ .^h j
i * i ?
laughter echoed through the room. e
I sprang to itiy feet. My cheeks flush- o
od with a burning blush. It was too much T
eyen from her, at that moment. Anoth- n:
er violent peal of laughter rang from her h
cherry lips, and I, maddened by her u
strange behavior, picked up my hat, and A
rushed from the house. I could have for* w
given it at anj other time, and upon any h
other subject?but this was impossible. n<
I received a noto from Jessie, the next N
day, begging my pardon for her thought- p
less conduct, and expressing a hope that rc
I would forgive her. But I was determined
; and enclosing her note in an envel- ope,
I sent it back to her. She had tri- ??
fled with mo in too serious a manner, and A
I was determined neither to forget or for- h
give it. That she really loved me, I do b
not doubt. The blow fell heavily upon b
her, anil I have good reason to believe, ti
cured her entirely of her habit of trifling w
with important matters. She married a n.
poor but worthy man, and now takes in tt
washing ad ' ironing to support her large tl
family.
A year passed on. I was twenty-two. 131
I had become head clerk in one of the
largest mercantile houses in my native *3
| city; for, wealthy as I was, I preferred 8<
spending my time in tome useful employment,
to lounging the streets and doing
nothing. Among my many friends, was a
a young artist of great promise, whose ?
studio I often visited, for 1 was as much a
lover of art as himself. His pictures al- 81
ways won a large share of my admira- ,r'
tion; for, besides being remarkable for
their purely classic beauty, they were invariably
true to life.
"I have a beautiful picture to show you,
Phil'said my artist-friend, as I entered his o|
studio, one fine day, about a year after my
parting with Jessie Irving, 'it is, in my fti
[ opinion, tho loveliest portrait I have ever .
drawn."
"Is it from life 1" I asked, with some in- tj
terest.
"Yes,' replied my friend, lifting a cur- ^
tain and taking down a framed picture,
and placing it before me. "Do you not
think it !>cautiful
I was too much absorbed to answer.? C(
It was Iteautiful, most wonderfully so. The j
countenance had not the dark, haughty, n
magnificent beauty of Amanda Sinclair, s(
but it was far moro bewitching! Eyes of
a liquid, dreamy hazel, but yet brilliant in
their expressive softness, gazed smilingly
out from beneath most beautilully curved, v
arching eyebrows, while the long eye-lash ^
es that slwtded them were of a rich brown. ]j
Her auburn hair fell in natural ringlets |c
over her alabaster shoulders, and her softly
rounded cheeks, and beautifully chiselled
lips were tinged with the richest vermilliou aj
The lips were half parted with a bewitch- |0
ing smile; and the whole countenance w
was so perfectly lovely, that I could not pf
help falling in love with it immediately.
I A -it t ? i r * .1
finuur, saiu i, -i* mis your picture!'
'Ye#,' was the reply. a
'Will you sell it to me!'I aslced, ea- ^
g?r|y- , , 01
'I oannot,' replied lie, 'for I have promised
it to my sister.' -{
I was disappointed. gj;
'Do you know the name of the lady!'
I asked. 50
'I do not,' was his reply.
From that hour my only thoughts were m
to discover the original of the picture that u.
had so facinated me.
I went to all the parties, balls, levees, li|
lectures and everything else, with the hope a
of getting a sigh of her. But all was useless;
and I almost despaired of ever meet- p;
ing her. I grew thin and pale; my health fl<
failed, and my friends prophesied that I p]
should die of consumption within a year, re
ifsome relief was not procured. rc
Physicians were consulted, but they did a
me no good; and, as a last resort, it was hi
recomended that I should travel. I cared ti<
nothing about it, myself; but, hoping that I
I might discover the beantiful unknown vi
whom 1 so madly loved, I readily agreed a'
to the proposal. tl
j For a month I travelled, without seeing a]
anything very strange, or improving my U
health and spirits to any great degree. I
was in New Orleans, and as it was the |<
last evening I was to spend there, I con- n
eluded to accept the invitation of a friend, F
and spend it in visiting a cousin of his. h
It was one of those glorious autumn |<
evenings, that are so enchanting to the ei
traveller in the South ; and vale, hill plain n<
an/1 /1|!i? sAamA/1 all \va?l*A/l tn a of I V.
VIVJ , OWIIIIAI nil VAV11VU IU IIUWI VI 1JI
the richest ailvery moonlight. I could not ol
but enjoy the scene; end I really sighed w
when our walk was ended,-and we stood n
at the door of Mrs. Forester's mansion. t|
"Young missus will be in in a jiffy,"? |,
said the negro servant as he ushered us
into the splendid parlor. For a moment *
we sat silent, when the door opened sud- n
denly, and before me stood, radient in all t
the splendor of her peerless beauty?the n
original of the artitrt picture. <j
"I did not hear mt friend's?"Mna Al- %
line Forrester, Mr. Fiiilip Varney," but fii- f
ing upon the maiden one long gaze, in Y
which my whole soul was poured forth, I I
fell insensible to the floor. When f again t
returned to consciousness, I was lying up- s
on the sofia ; while beside me knelt Alline h
Forrester, bathing my heated brow with c
LAml'4 Gofantt. With those melting eyes 1Y
looking into tnj own I Tbo conquest t
| wu Bnufced?I lotod b?r despor than ? 1
or " 1
'{ llj feinting ?N MMMMcd
" '*** 4"': '
xcitement of meeting a stranger ; and no
ne thought of laying it to the real canse,
lie evening passed away like a dream td
le?and when I returned to my hotel, I
ad determined not to leave New Orleans
ntil I had gained the heart and hand of
lline Forrester. A month passed?and
ith all the impetuosity of my nature, I
a I declared tny love to Alline, and was
ow her accepted lover. I was happy?
fbthing was now wanting to complete the
icturo ol bliss that I had drawn in my own
lind, for the future.
But it was time for me to return home
-and before another week had passed, I
lust leave New Orlears and my beautiful
.lline behind, and return to the North. I
ad endeavored to persuade her to be my
ride immediately, and return with roe ;
ut she was firm in her refusal, saying
lint she could not live at the North?that
'hen she wedded, her husband must reiain
at the South. So I prepared to relrn
to fny Northern home; and after scting
up my business, return to the South
ad claim the lovely Alline Forrester as
iv bride.
It was Christmas eve, and all the beau7
and chivalry of New Orleans were asJinbled
at the nnhle mnnninn rtf the fir.*
rnor of Louisiana, for a splendid levee.?
with ray peerless Alline leaning upon my
rm, entered tho crowded saloon at rathr
a late hour ; hut as we entered, the
usy hum of voices for a moment ceased,
nd was again resumed in gay conaplilents
to Alline and myself. I was proud
r my charming partner, and well I might
e.
An hour passed?I had danced several
mes with Alline, and then according to
istom, had given up her hand to others
P her friends, while I chose another patter
from among the gay group of beautitl
belles. The dance was finished, and I
ad led my partner to a seat; and as I'felt
catcd and excited, 1 approacnea one vf
le large windows that nad been thrown
pen, and sat down beside it. The heavy
>lds of tho curtain concealed me from
iew, and a few moments after I had st at(1
myself, I was aroused from my reverio
y the sound of voices, in low but earnest
cmversation. I started?I turned pale as
recognized one of them to be that of
ty affianced bride?Alline Forrester. I
:etred chained to the spot?I could not
ut listen to every word.
"Alline," said her companion, M dearest
ill ne, you know I love you madly?deotedly;
and why is it you are continually
muring me by allowing the world to beeve
you are engaged to that northern fel?w
? Alline, you will kill me ! "
"My dear Edward," replied Alline, in
er softest and mast loving tones, "you are
together too jealous?you know I do not
vs Philip Varney. I am only fiirting
ith him for ray own amusement, and to
isa awav tho dull monotony of this city
fc. But he is going North in a day or
vo, and after he is gone, I will send him
letter, telling him tnat what has passed
etween us must all be forgotter, as 1 was
aly in fun."
"Passed between you !" exclaimed the
>ung man ; "oh, Alline, it cannot be poe
ble that you have told him you lore him!"
"Why, yea, I said something of that
>rt," said Alline, with a light laugb.
"Ob, Alline, Alline ! "cried the young
an, in a tone of the deepest anguish j?
rou are a lreartlesa coquette. And
mugh I lore you better than I lore my
fe, I cannot but own that you are almost
demon in human shape.
"I waited to hear no more. With cheeks
tie as ashes, I fled from the saloon, and
sw rather than walked, to my boirdihgace.
Then, after packing everything m
ladiness to start for home on the roor>w,
I sat down at my desk and penned
long letter to Alline Forrester. I told
er that I had ov?rheard that con versa on,
and that I knew her real character,
told her that I considered all our solemn
ows to be henceforth void?for she had
Iready broken them. I told her that
rough I loved her as deeply as ever, I
rould never see her again, and bade her
newell forever.
With a heart now dead to all earthly
>ve and happiness, I returned to my
orthern home. I had really loved Alline
viivoioi ?uu nv?f vtinn chic imu
erself unworthy, I. felt that I could never
>ve Again. I had believed her to be evry
thing tliat wm pure and lovely?and
ow that I knew ?A* waa one of the moat
cartlesa of coquettea, I gave up all hope
r ever finding one who would be what I)
ished my wtfe to be?a true, loving wotan,
who would ever be a kind and gene
friend?a sharer of my joy*, and a eoM*r
of ny woea I
I waa now tw 2nty-fire?~ wealthy, handt>me
and talented; and act a tew maneuvering
mother* and ambition* daughers,
nought to draw me into the bond* of
n Urimony. But It waa now firmly dedled
that if ever I marvapl at all, I never
rould wed a beautiful woman. I now
sltxonvinoed is my own mind, that a
?autiful girl rarely, if evar poaaewed a
MHliful mind. WidiMit thk 1. ?./ ii
h?re could b? no tn?? Wtttj. 1
roi*hipp?d W^r^hut UJa^t^ptoirod t?,
3%*" c5f tf1