VOL. I' :|RM^1LLE, .firFlillUY MuKMNii, DKCKMUKli 15, 18^1. ^ NffcSI. J
<d%i ?nutljrrn (gtttrrjirisf, J
A. REFLEX OF^WULAR EVENTS.j
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A OKRVAX T*AOmoX.
',< Among Silesinn plains whore glide
JBf The Oder rtrwrnn, in slow meander,
?? fair bright eVentide
Of old, twd raver* came to wander. ^
And if from sunset's gorgeons dyes
Some em Idem meet, they sought to borrow,
l*s ,t If woe to eo0 in these fair skies,
llopeo for some far diviner morrow.
to
And if?while o'er its silvery spray
They bent to view the singing water,
Where (pam bells flashed in joyous play,
And ripples broke, like low sweet laughter.
A thought was mingling with the dream,
Whirn in that hour did thrill and quiver.
Amid .their heart string*?it might seem
Of nuiMO rolling on foraver 1
i. i i 1 - tl? i" .1 .
rw t-FWII i n IIWH l l??o uiniwcM VI ivu .
"Jh? inifd^v flowers are fair to gather?
llairbclla, and daisies, sunny-eyed.
And cowslip, child of -AJf>ril weather;
Ivitig-cnrvs ana crocuses, thnf fling
A golacn gKmmeroYr the meadows;
And Tillies, o'er the glassy epriug.
Hint bend to view their own white shadows.
"Rut. unavailing tlieseire flung,
In blcsbing bloom of peArly whiteness,
Tlu- w hile for me so idly hung
Tho& buds of blue celestial brightness,
. That gem the ware's opposing shore,
L*]<on my grasp w hich fair 'would measure
Tltnt glittering space of water o'er,
Bespread like some attaiulees treasure,"
"The boon be thine, fair love!" he cried;
And, through that glittering crystal dashing,
He wended fast where o'er the tide
The blue gleam of those flowers was flashing.
He reek'd not of the treacherous flood.
Outspread in deepening paths before him ;
While on, in eager, ardent Vnood,
Unto the flowery prise he bore bhn!
Alas! nlas! the watery cone
Around him olnng with mightier clasping;
Hut the goal u rescued, the prize is won.
Triumphant in his reeolutc grasping!
lie turned him proudly to the strand.
And cries', while o'er the o'crwhelming river,
*' lie flung the flowers with dying hand?
'Forget me not!" and jiaasea forever!
Forget me not! and ?? lier feet,
Where ne'er had lore bid truer token,
They lay, whose task was now but meet
To wreathe a heart whose hope was broken 1
Thence ever grew that name to bo
So dear unlo affection parted? .
"Hie flower of lore's fidelity, .. .
Hie motto of the eousiant-bearUd.
tLB.)L
Original Craralatioii. a
9* TruilWwi Rrta thf 0trmin for tko too. EnttrplM
THE BRACELET.
*r a 'L
Col. Dx Waldox bad met with a brave
' eohlicr'a death in the bloody battle of Leuihete,
where on the 5th of December 1757,
, Prussia's greatest king, Frederick, the second (
gained inch a glorious victory over, the
Austrian*. lie left his wjJow, living in
Prague, in very indifferent circumstances,
- * which wore tho more prossing, ae she, besides
herself anu young daughter, had also
.to provide for the sister of heir husband, who
joforo his death had offered her an j
asylum In his family. A small pension was
scarce sufficient for the most necessary wants,
but she succeeded in nursing and attending
her sick sisUjvin-law by industriously making
and sellfpg Hno fancy needlework.
? But umgtna^nt^are Mrs. D? Waldo*
iind was payment of lier house rent,
monTporticuldrly as the owner of the house,
bachelor, belonged to thet class of
persons who have no sympathy for the mint'oi
iujh'h of othore, and live only to nattafy J
their cwii. wishes 'and desir.*. Following,
c^PBRer prifccrit abode had been, also*
<tt1(Knt.'r fWfcnts^ n*nd an such all hor
JMtnVul and hnppyVKoura were connected
it, and for that reason she generally
managed to pay her house rent punctually.
Three years had passed, not without cares
and sorrows in their small family, but still in
quiet contentment, when the sister-ir. law of
Mrs. Da Waidon was called away to follow
her brother into a better world; this casualty
would have mitigated their condition, if
ITok Mrs. De Waldos, having with nightly
watching by the siek'bed, and working for
tlieir support in the day time injured her
health to such a degree, as to bo compelled
to take to her bed. A small amount of
money, alio had managed to save, was entirely
expended during her sickness, and for
the burial of her sister-in-law. Sorrowfully
she often gar.ed anxiously at her dau^mer,
the only joy she had, conjecturing what was
to be the future destiny of the poor girl, liet
orphAn daughter, if sho her mother, too,
was called Away. It was on a cold and
blustering winter's day,when Ktpily, coming
from the doctor, whence she got some medicine
for her mother, and on her way home,
crossing tire bridge over the river Moldavia,
where she saw a carriage and its horses, wild.
umnnncgaDie ana running away, coming in
a dashing gallop towards her. Emily lost
not a moment in running to the end of the
bridge, and was on the point of stepping on
the pavement of the street to keep out of the
way of the infuriated horses, when losing
her footing on the snow and ice-slippery
pavement, she fell down, and so unfortunately
as to be in imminent peril of being crushed
to death. An officer of the dragoons
passing by and seeing her great danger,
sprang with lightning speed to her, lifted 1
her in his arms and bore her amid the approving
shouts of the people * to a place of
safety; trembling and blushing, Emily endeavored
to thank her presorvcr, a very
handsome young man, in the most heartfelt
terms, and entreated him to accompany her
to her mother that she too might have the
pleasure of thanking him for his noble deed,
but the officer excused himself, and said,
that it was with regret he denied himself the
honor of her company, as some military duty
prevented his complying with hor request,
'neither have I,' he continued, 'done anything
but a duty encumbent ou every human being
with these words he went away almost
bewitched by the glances of those dark aud
lustrums blue eyes of Emily.
Emily went home and related to her sick
mother all that had happened. She was at
first terrified,.but at the conclusion of the
story she thanked God in a sincere and
heartfelt prayer for the preservation of her
dear child from swell a horrible deatfff The
emotions of her heart having subsided a little,
Mrs. Du Waldo n reproved her daughter
for neglecting to learn at least the narno of
the officer, that she too might have expressed
her gratitude to him ; to Emily life name
was of coureo unknown, bqt the image of
her preserver was for over engraven on her
young and innocent heart She jvas always !
vividly recalling the particalars of the scene
to her imagination, when %vor she crossed
the bridge or passed near tho spot of her
disaster.
Emily was now in her sixteenth year, and
nerTersonal charuw more and more unfolde^tue
treasures of her cultivated minJ to
such a degree, that she was called the belle
of Prague everywhere. Appearing in public
wa? sure to excito general homage to her
angelic loveliness. There w as an indescribable
enchantment about her that o?n h*>r m.aK -
could not withstand, and very often when
Rmily mt busily {dying her needle, her mother
calling her to her bedside, and putting beak
a cloud of rich nubum curls from her daughter's
classic forehead, would cover It with soft
kisses, but not in this viow alone was Emily
the joy of her mother, who, sick and helpless
as she was, entirely depondod on her daughter
fur support and consolation. Emily's
rare and tasteful skill in fancy needlework,
oombinod with indefatigable industry, enabled
her hot alone to provide for all necessary
wants, hut event to pfbeuro. now and then
some refreshing luxury for her sick mother.
^ About this time there waa a remarkable
change in the conduct and whole exterior of
her landlord ; this nan p?o had on every'
occasion shown himself rude and ooano to
km De Waldon, Wham* <BTw "everyday
ma*a and ynore agreeable and epoHto in bis
jSplllta and conversation, and i^ing vsrf
.*?? * ft
gdtta. 9e& in *" rafti-fri
attentive, also regarding his drew, lie occasionally
called on Mrs. Do Waldon, to inqure
anxiously into tlio state of her henltli
and other circumstances and things, which
he bad never dono before, except only to request
the payment of bia rent or receive
money due to him 1W such.
About this time her houso rent became
duo, and not having the money ready at
hand, Mrs. Do Walden required time, which
was not only immediately granted,; but Mr.
Dempsky in his present inexplicable beha
viour, also offered for the use of the ladies a
beautiful garden attached to the house,
which was the more surprising, as Mrs. De
Waldon had before this vainly entreated him
to permit her the use of it; his visits became
now more frequent than ever, and sometimes
lie would present the mother with the
choicest fruits of his garden, or on another
occasion present the daughter with the most
beautiful flowers tied into a bouquet, nay ho
even sometimes dared to kiss the halulB of
mother and daughter, before bowing himself
out of the room. v-'
For a long time Mrs. D^PpIdon could not
explain to herself the reason oMier landlord**
kindness to her family, it being a contradiction
to his kuown charactqj, but she felt at
times a presentiment of his true intentions.?
She was not deceived, when one morning
being alone, Mr. Dcmpsky with a new wig
and dressed in the extreme of fashion, solicited
an interview with her; it was granted,
and with deep bows he made his entrance
into the room, commenced the conversation
with the common topics of the day, and
then led off on the happinness and joys of
married life, and expatiated at great length
on his unhappy lot, in not having as yet experienced
such bliss, as he had never before
isccn a young may attractive enough in person
and mind to offer his heart and hand,
but heaven had blessed him at last in recognizing
and appreciating tho loveliness and
accomplishments of her daughter, and she
alone deserved to become his wife. MYes, my
de.tr Mrs. i)e Waldon," he continued, "I love
your daughter, her graces have enchained
me, and it is impossible for me to exist without
her, I give myself up, therefore, to the
secret hope, of your aauction to our union,
and that you will now look upon mo as
you* future son-in-law, making me such in
.fact as soon as convenient to youand with
these words this silly and conceited person
glanced with a complacent smile at his rellected
form in tho opposite hanging looking
glass. Although Mrs. De Waldon had suspected
his intentions, and that the beauty
of Emily alone had melted the ice around
the heart of this old man, she never expected
to hear it avowed so soon, but having tact
sufficiently to listen to his proposal, she nnswered
him with her native dignity and
kindness tliat an offer of marriage to a
young lady was a very important event in
her life, and aught to be well considered,
that he would uot expect her to give him a
decided answer now, but having spoken to
her daughter about it, sho then could let
him know the result of it in the course of
the day. ?Mr.
Dcmpsky was a rich man, posAfesing,
besides his houso in the city, a fine'country
residence in the environs of Prague, which
yielded him a good round sum of money in
rent every year, so tlmt a marriage of her
daughter with him, could have secured to
her a life free from care and want. But leaving
alone the disparity in years, he being
Mllilr. Mr. Dpmn?l-? wna tim-i-n lm <>
7?1J . *?J "" "
great miser, and an infamous usurer, and
the last though not least reason, was the
natural aversion of her daughter to this
man, abe concluded, therefore, to let liiin
know bar decision in the following linos:
"jSir; rou will not denj, as a reasonable
mau^that in contracting marriage with a
young lady, tliat a mutual affection ia indespenstfbla,
and you will pardon me, that
aa a mother, who dearly loves her child, I
should consult the wishes of my daughter
on this suhjcct,nnd I am sorry to inform you
that she peremptorily declines the honor of
your hand. I will add, that the difference of
your age and that of my daughter, also the
difference of *ur respective positions and
means compared with yours, cause me to
second my daughter in her determination
to of alliance with you,
fHemlly iuteroourso
from this u%
I,remain yours, rMhtffclly, '
Cuaai^t^uflHVrALOoy.<*
Mr. Pempsky having anticipated quite a
different result, and counting on their poverty
for complying with, his wishes, seeing
himself thus cooly and insultingly rejected,
became furious, and was now. certain!v not
' J *
the innn to fulfill the concluding wish of
Mr*. De Waldon's letter.
On the next day, alrenJy, ho called for
the money duo' to him, yet, informing her,
either, consent to the mnrriage of her daughter
with him, or not paying the money due
to him in six days, he would enforce the
rigour* of law against her. She knew him
too well, to expect anything hotter from him,
but how to avert and relieve her distresses,1
withbut sacrificing the happiness of her!
daughter, was a riddlo to her, as just now \
her means were entirely exhausted, her ein-;
barrassmcnt and cares enlarging every hour
and with anxiety of heart, and weeping eyes,
sho saw a dark, troubled, cheerless future,
open before her, but, where affliction's great'
est, God's saving hand is nearest 1
Accustomed to domestic life, Eniilv never
desired any other pleasure, than to be near
her mother, attending and enlivening her
weary hours, occasionally leaving hor to. the
care of a friend, she wont to a neighboring
chapel, hearing mass and praying to God for
tho recovery of her mother's health. On the
day that Mr. Dempsky made known his final
determination to her mother, she had
gone, as usual, to fulfil her pious duty, and
moss being over, she slowly retraced her
steps homeward. It was getting dark, and
she was just on tho point of stopping over
tho threshold of the chapel,when,accidentally
casting down her eyes, she saw lying on tho
flnnr lM?nr (Kn rtonr onmn aliininn
-- ?
stooping down sho took it up, and wraping
her handkerchief around it, without farther
looking at it. But how surprised, nay frightened,
was Emily on coining hom<^ showing
it to her mother, sho discovered now for the
first time, that it was a magnificent worked
bracelet, covered with the most valuable
stones. Neither mother nor daughter for a
moment entertained the thoughtof retaining
this valuable ornament as their property.?
They carefully put it up, expecting soon to
hear who was the ownor of it, and after the
lapse of a few days, the above mentioned
friend of Emily's, told her that it was advertised
in the papers, the person who had
found a bracelet, according to description,
would meet with a reward commensurate to
its value, on leaving it at the mansion of
Gen. Count De Thurneek.
[concluded next week.]
oM q Iir e'3 ScgJ b.
Some years ago, an individual wellknown
and highly re*pocted in the religious world,
uarraled in my hearing the following incident
: In early life, while with a college companion
he was making a tour on the continent,
at Paris his friend was seized with an
alarming illness. A physician of great celebrity
was speedily summoned, who stated
that much would depend upon a minute attention
to his directions. As there was no
one at hand upon whom they could place
inuch reliance, lie was requested to recommend
some confidential and experienced
nurse, lie mentioned one, but added, 4You
may think yourself happy, indeed, should
you be able to secure her services ; but she
is so much in request among the higher circles
hero, that there is little chance of finding
her disengaged !' Tho ndfrator at once
ordered his carriage, went to her residence,
and, much to his satisfaction, found her at
borne. lie briefly stated his errand, and ro- j
quested her immediate attendance. 4Hut.'
before I consent to accompany you, permit,
me, sir,' said she, 'to ask you a single quoslion
: Is your friend a Christian ?' 'Yen,' lie
replied ; 4ho is indeed a Christian, in the
host and highest sense of the term ; a man
who lives in the fear of God. Hut I should
like to know the reason of your inquiry ?'? ;
'Sir,' she answered, 'I wastho nurse that attended
Voltaire in his last sickness, and for
all the wealth of Europe I would never ?ee
another infidel die.'?LortTt DamatcuM.
' ?
Noe* axd Lrpa.?A sharp nose and then
lips are considered bv physiognomists certain
signs of a shrewish disposition. As n
criminal was onca on his way to the gallows,
proclamation was made that, if any woman
would marry him under the gallows, with
the rope around his neck, he would receive
pardon, "I will," cried a cracked voice from
amid the crowd. The culprit the
candidate for matrimony to approach
uiu ratrt, which sue aid. "IMose like n km to," i
said Jm, "lips liko wafers! Drivoon, hfUggu
man * I
As infallible remedy for rMnnJuney rf|
tyle is for the diffuse Author to form the
habit of writing advertfsefbtttta, Jtftd paying
fbr {heir insertion.
Ik ju * ^
*
jjffi" lAln'irii mi
IMrrrsting ?tnrirs.
S t Irelfy Slo Irj).
'Wklu I think it's likely ; but don't tense
; mo nnytttore. Your brother has married a
I poor girl, on o whom I forbade him to marry,
' and 1 won't fogrvc him if they starve together.'
This speech was addressed ton lovely girl
scarcely eighteen, beautiful ns the lily that
hides itself beneath the dark waters. She
was parting the silvery locks on her father's
high, handsome forehead, of which her own
t was a liiinature, and pleading the cause of |
her delinquent brother, who had married in
i opposition to her father's will, and conse
quently been disinherited. Mr. Wheatlv
was a rich old gentleman, a resident of Boston.
lie was a fat, good Matured old fellow,
somewhat given to the mirth and wine, and
1 sat in his arm-chair from morning until
I night, smoking his pi|>c and reading the
newspapers. Sometimes a story of his own j
exploits in our revolutionary battles filled up
a passing hour. lie bad two children, the
disobedient son, and tho beautiful girl before
spoken of. The fond girl went on pleading :
'Dear father, do forgive hiih ; you don't
know what a beautiful girl he has married,
and?
'I think it's likely.' said tho old man. 'hut
don't tease me, and open the door-* little,
this plaugy room smokes so.'
'Well,' continued Ellen 'won't you just sec
lier now?she is so good, and the little boy,
: he looks so innocent.'
'What do yoa say ?' interrupted the father;
'a boy ! have I a grandchild i Why Ellen,!
never know that before! but 1 think it's likely.
Well, now give me my chocolate, and then
go to your uiusic lesson.'
Ellen left liiin The nl.l timii'a lienrf l*e
The I>b?lixk of Akt im Ttaly.?A Florence
correspondent anya : "The expcridhce
of thin old academy, (Horence Academy nf
Fine Art*,)richly endowded by tlie mnhificence
of past times, and furnished a* it i*
with all poaaible means and facilities, in the
midst of the choicest treasury affords a conspicuous
example of the hopeless inelliciency
, of suchHnstitutions. The growth of art
' owes nothing to academic machinery and
conventional training. Its master minds and
match !esproductions were not forced into immortalityjby
any hot-hod cultnro whatever.
But the .groat age of art in Ttaly is past! In
thb, *? in oth^ lbmgs the star of aspire is
Not Miai&r able.?T went v shilling mu&?}
ana glm aA*r are thirty r1
gan to relent.
Well, lie went on, 'Charles was always a
good boy, a little wild or so at college, but 1
indulged him ; and he was always good to
his old father, for all, but ho disobeyed mo
by marrying this poor girl; yet as my old
friend and fellow soldier, Tom Bonner used
to sa3% we must forgive. Poor Tom! 1
would give all tho old shoes I have got, to
know what ever become of him. If T could
but find him or ono of his children ! Heaven
grant they they are not suffering ! This
plaugy smoky room, how my eyes water!?
If I did but know who this girl was that my
Charles has married; but I have never heard
her name. I'll find out and?
'I think it's likely,' said tho old man.
Ellen led into the room a beautiful boy, about
thrco years old. Ilis curly hair and
rosy cheeks could not but make ono love him.
'Who is that ?' said the old mau wiping
his eyes.
'That that is Charles' boy,' said Ellen,
throwing one of her arms around her
father's neck, while on the other she placed
the child* on his knee. The child looked
tenderly up in his face and lisped out:
'Grandpa, what makes you cry so?' ?
The old man clasped the child to his bosom,
kissed biin again and again. After
this emotion had a little subsided, ho bade
the child tell his name.
'Thomas Bonner Whcatly,' said the l>oy,
'I am named after grand pa.'
'What do I hear ?' said the old man,
'Thomas Bonner your grandfather V
'Yes,' lisped the bov, and he lives with ma,
at- ;
'Get me my cane,' said tliQ old man, 'and
come Ellen ; bo quick chilJ.'
They started otf at a quick pace, which
soon brought thero to the poor, though neat
lodgings of his son. There ho behold his
old friend, Thomas Homier, seated in one
comer, weaving baskets, while his swathed
limbs showed how unable he was to perform
his necessary task. Ilis lovely daughter, the
wife of Chnrles. was preparing their frugal
meal, and Charles was out seeking employment
to support his needy family.
'It's all my fault,' ?obl>od tho old mnn as he
embraced his friend, who was petrified with
amazement.
'Come,' said Mr. Wheatly, 'come all of
you homo with me, wo will live together,
there is plenty of room in tny house for u*
all.'
'Oh, how happy we shall be !' she exclaimed,
'Ellen and father will love our little
Thomas so, and he'll be your pet, <von*t he
father ?' ..
'Ay,* said tho old man, *1 think it's very .
liltolv.'
,, B il) o n 0 e ip^ui^ 1 o I* Jj .
"NVk notice in the European paper* mHk
86 extraordinary, that we could hardlyiMBHT
credit to it. if it was not endorsed by.'^nWfc *2jg
of the highest standing in lterlin and Vl|u ^. 4
enna. A very wealthy lady had by a first
marriage twin sons, to whom sho was devoteslly
attached. Their health being delicate
she dqrided upon leaving <jrcnnany. *Ry
the advice of tho mnrt eminent physicians
she fixed her residence in Italy ; there, under
the influence of the fine climate, they grew,
but preserved tho nervous impressibility
which in their youth had put their lives in
danger. Their likeness to each other was
truly surprising. Both devoted themselves
to the line art*, painting esj>oci;iUy. When
sixteen years old they were considered as
masters; but about that time a crisis took
place in the disease attacking both. The
physicians decided that the young men must
separate ; they objected for a long time* but
at last overcome by the supplications of their
mother, they left to chance to decide which
one should depart.
It fell upon Alfred, and lie started to visit
Greeec and the East, to be absent about a
year. Regularly were transmitted by hiuff
to bis mother and brother left behind, pictures,
sketches, of interesting and beautiful
scenes ill his travels. But these pictures,
taken from nature, were so exactly the
counterpart of what had been painted by
tho brother at home during the same time,
that tliev could not ho distin^tiishdd the one
from tho other. While in Upper Egypt Alfred
died, and the physicians wrote to the
mother an account of the circumstances attending
his death. Upon the same day, and
at tho sainc hour, the brother in Italywalso
lied. The same circumstances attended his
death?the last words uttered were the same.
The distracted mother relumed to Germany.
Two years after she again gave birth
to twin sons, tho exact Qpunterparts of those
she had lost. She gave to them the same
names. The same symptoms of feeble health
showed themselves, and change of climate
was again ordered. Tho mother repaired to
Spain. The twin sons again devoted themselves
to painting. When sixteen tliey weie
also taken sick, and a separation was order
for there w no nge in ITwen.
Yet why Apeak of Age in n mournful
strain ? It i* hcafotifhl, honorable ?ud elo<iitenL
8hoi)!n we sigh attlio proximity of
death, when lift) and Vie world are so full of
emptiness f Let die old exult Urn use they
are old, if nnv must weep, let it be tbc young.
At the lorn? sttOeessioii of cares that are before
them. Welcome the snow, ft* it ? the em- /
blcin of peace ?nd of rest. It M hut a ternKrial
crown, wjjich fhall fall at tie gates of
undue, to be leplsoed by a brighter and4
better. ,
* ... - '
ed. The mother for a timo resisted, but finally
consented that one of thcui> should
visit the south of Spain. Chance again designated
Alfred the one thnt should go.
The saino phenomenon was again ^vitnossed.
What was painted by one in Cadiz
was reproduced by the other in Barcelona
or Cadiz. Upon the very day that Alfred
was about to return to his mother and brother
ho was suddenly taken ill and died* At
the very same moment the brother died in
the arms of his mother, both pronouncing
the same words their brothers had pronounced
twenty years before.
This story is published in the German papers
for a verity. The Gourier des.. Etats
Unis, from which we translate it, vouches
for the respectability of those by whoinpt is
endorsed.
?? ?The
Snow of Age.
We have just stumbled upon the follow
ing pretty piece of inoasic, lying amid a
multitude of those less attractive : . > '
"No snow falls lighter than the snow of
age; but none is heavier, for it never melt*.*
The figure is by no means novel, but fhe
closing part of the sentence is hew as well as
emphatic. The scriptures represent age by
the almond tree, which bears blossoms of the
purest white. " The almond tree shall flourish,"
the head shall be hoary. Dickens says
of one of his characters, whose hair was tprning
grtry, that it looked as if Time hncMightly
plashed his snows upon it in pacing.
"It never melts"?no, never. Age is inexorable
; its wheels must move onward, they
Know not any retrograde movtfnent. The
<jld man may set and sing?"I woukl I were
boy ngnin," but be grows older as'be sings,
lie may reap of the elixir of youth, but Tie
cannot find it; he may sigh for the secret of
the alchemy which is able to imiko him
young again, but sighing brings it^ot. He
mays gaze, backward with an eye of longing
upon trie rosy schemes of early years, but as
one who gnzo* on his home from the deck
ofn departing ship, every moment carrying
him further and further away, l'oor old
man ! he has little more to do than die.
"It never melts. The enow of winter
comes and sheds its whito blotsom* u?oryg&>
ley and mountain, but soon the sweet pfiWTg
follows and smiles it all away. Not so with
that upon the brdw of tiio tottering veteran;
there-1* a o Spring whose warmth can penetrate
its etormd frost. It camo to stay: its
single fiakea fell unnoticed, and now it is
drilled there. WosltaU see it increase until
wo see the'old man in his grave; there it
shall he absorb*! bv due erariml darkness.