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nr t. j. rai?-c.l
; gtlertrft
- .. From
the Sew York Saturday Conner.
I be BlindeO Vigbf ii)gi)ie.
j?r ca.inu? a susscll
Tin said, I know dot how truly, that there exlet*
la Ploroaee, a nutnm of blindiug the nightingale,
?o that, thus rendered uneonscious of the
day-light, it etill continues its melodious strain*
when the night is past. This circumstance suggested
the following lines:
I.. Deprived of Heaven's most gracious boon,
Hs# glorious gift of sight,
The gentle warbler folds her plume,
And swells her bosom to attune
* Ilor lays to endless night
Sad are tlie melodies that (loot ~ I
Upon the listening air;
Each sweet and melancholy note
Seems, as it leaves her quivoring throat,
The tn.isic of despair.
]
Not so harmonious were U?r strains
WIuu -*Ud and free she poured
llor voice across Italia's plains,
Kre yet she knew the cruel pains
- inflicted by her Lord.
"When twilight deepened as it fell
Across the earth, was heard
Hie fluttering wing of Philomel,
W ho came, her touching tale to tell
Wliile'dewy xejphrys stirred.
. Then, where the moonlight's silver glow
Cheeked the forest's shade,
Arose her sweet accordances low,
Till bunting into rapturous flow
It filled the silent glade.
But now she knows not morn from ere;
To her 'tis ever gloom ;
Bleep seeks her not, that might relievo
Jler weariness with kind reprieve
Awhile from such a doom.
* Iter lays are ignorant of restraint
When smiles tlie rody day ;
But soon her warbling grows more fuint,
Until in one soft flual plaint
She sings her heart away.
Tub following lines brentho a spirit
off tenderness and love, seldom met with.
Tlwjr were found on a loose sheet of paper
in the Bible of MraTaiiPKBAHOs E. Aonkw,
after her death, and are addressed to her lit
tie daughter, two years oia. rare, aosiw wh?
the daughter of Dr. John c. Sullivan, of
this District. She joined the Methodist
Church in 1852, moved to Florida, and died
on the 9th of February, 1855.?En. EntsrTatar,.
??
My Notloa.
Why is it, my daughter dear, with your
weet smiling blue eyes to look in mine,
yojar Pa's ever ready kindness to sooth and to
dtoerandeomany of life's blessing around me,
that visions of an early grave so often come
over me I know not; but that it may be
realised, I take my pen to leave with you
tome of a mother's caution and instructions.
You are a rich treasure, given us by our
heavenly father; and I hope ere your eyes
^_ I
iiiu v.ui mm*. ??? ivu i.iu mm* 1vmii.m i
that God is all goodness. To love and serve
him Is one great aim of our existence. Lovo
God "with all your heart my daughter; pray
to him Often far strength to rastst the weak
-*%>?? ....... . i? u.j i. .1
Vi uuuituj iiuiuiv , in JMIIU iv mun: i
wound you; struggle with yourself, and conquer
to far m never to speak unkind of any
one. One of our Father'? commands is
dove thy neighbor aa thyself" make the
happinem of those placed around yon an
Otyedt of consideration; do not indulge
yourself in having your own way at the expenoe
of the will of others; read the Bible
eA<*4 qpauld like you to do it daily; pray
fcrtcfttiy to our heavenly Father, that the
reading you do may benefit your immortal
sooi. ^ Take e great deal of out-door exercise;
study Bobtny, learn the names and usee of
^gl tuany pretty flowers that adorn the fair
ftoad wMch i. now our hom.. K*d lb. I,i.ikrt
lf eft asikwiad countries * read them
[ I
" l'k '' '
?Mtt ii, ^
j... , - -* jLjl siiiSifl
carefully and do not abuse your memory by
reading hastily and remejnbering nothing
you have read. Do not indulge in reading
novels and tales; if you ever do, you will
regret it, as I benr in memory.many ill-spent
hours over such idle trash. No one could
make me believe that it was an injury then,
bnt I now know it, and profit by my experience.
If your Ph lives he can tench you
Greek, Latin, Arithmetic, and nil the branches
of nn English Education. Cultivate a taste
for music. I think it imnroves the. aesnosi
tion. Giro sacred the preference above all
others ; there are no song* compared, with
those of Zion.
I have often prayed, and fervently, dear
one, that your heart be given early to the
Lord; that you love not the things of this
world too well, and be often in your heart
and on your lips **iead mo not into temptation
father, but deliver me from evil." Fervent,
faithful prayer, will prepare you well
for things of time and for otemlty. Death
you cannot escape, it is the lot of mortals,
but will have no sting if you love the Lord
with all your heart and in him put your
trust.
If sickness should comer into the family
be ye always first to soothe and nurse, to
give all needful attention. !f your grandparents
aervive mo and ever need your
care, tend them tenderly and carefully,
for often so have they tended mc. They
have given mc many hour, day and night,
in sickness and in health, which I never
can repay. Also your Pa, he is so kind
and attentive to tne, I earnestly hope he never
will want attention in hours of pain and
sickness. Love your aunts and uncles and
cousins, we are coran atidcd to love every
body, even those who hate us, by divine command,
and how much more real fervent affection
should fall to those whom our Father
has given us to love and cherish by biuding
us in string ties of relationship.
Try and form the habit of judging no
one hastily, and always allow for temptations
and circumstances. We are prone to judge
the world too harshly aud ourselves too leniently.
Ctua interesting Jtaries.
Ibc ? 0 C10 t"* 3 Slofrlj.
TiV fllP/VW
iiA lilUV^l.
Ox oue of tho .e cold winter nights, when,
seated near a bright, cheerful fire, one loves
to hear the wind howliug aud rushing with
impotent fury against the well closed shuttors;
when, our hearts expanding under
the genial influence of the flame, wo are
most inclined to pity the poor creatures
whoiu poverty aud waut expose to all the
severity of the elements?on such a night
old Doctor D and Iris family were en
joying the warmth of a crackling hearth.?
The elder members pleasantly discussing the
various events of the day, while the children
played noisily in a corner of the room.
The coa vernation hnd unconsciously turned
upon politics.
"By the-bye," exclaimed Edward S ,
the doctor's nephew, "I doubt whether Mr.
M will carry tlm^leciion for alderman
of his ward. Chances are much against
him.
"I wish very much to see lntn chosen,"
said the doctor; he is a high-toned gentleman,
of great integrity, and strict morul
principles, and in these degonerate times"?
"Those arc just the TCaaons for which he
will bo beaten," iuturrupted Edward ; "for,"
added he, smiling at the look of surprise his
words had called forth upon his uncle's face,
"his principles are so strict, that I heard him
yesterday refuse to enter the 'Gem Cotfee
House,' with some one who proposed to
'treat him, on the piea mat he never drank
anything but water. Afier he left, I heard a
man ay.to a friend: 'I won't voto for M : j
he was too proud to drink with rao I* I do
not pretend to justify this man, uncle," continued
tlie nephew, observing a disdainful
smile curl the old man's lip; "I think it n
very foolish conclusion ; but manj view the 1
matter as he did, and these will go against
him : inasmuch as hie opponent 'treats everybody,'
ae they say, and makes thereby a
host of friends, or rather votes."
"It is shameful if bis sleotion is made to
suffer on such accounts!" exclaimed the doctor
indignantly ; "for if ever a man showed
a noble spirit in refusing to taste spirits, it is
Henry M?1 Listen to me," continued he,
"and I will tell you why."
"ft Here the good old man, as usual when
about to tell a story, cleared bis voice two
or three times, walked up and down the
room to collect his thoughts and stirred the fire
into a brighter blaze. The well-fcaown signal
diew from their corner all the children, who
feaeion bad cauwd bim to witness, and he I
told them tbo ^>1 lowing tale, which I now i
relate, not in his own words, for he spoke s
loo modestly of himself
THE MOTHEIl'S DEATH BED.
It yfM the night of the 24th December, '
184?; the cold was Utter, and the wind was (
manning through the deserted streets, where
all else was silence, save when, at intervals,
the heavy club of the grumbling watchman
resounded on the curb stones, and the hurried
footsteps Of some belated passer, told his ea- (
gerness to reach his home and join the hap- I
l>p in !?? miidh nf Plirufmno ofn I 1
VJ - ? V.V.. ,
Doctor D. was about to rctiro for the
night, after the fatigue of a day welt spent 1
in administering to ilia sufferings of his fellow-men,
when just as midnight struck at '
the old Cathedral clock, the door bell was
violently rung, as if by au impatient hand.
"There!" exclaimed tho Doctor's wife, "it '
was written that you could not spend even
Christmas eve at home I You must go ex- !
pOsing yourself to live sharp wind, and"?
"Wife," interrupted the kind old man reprovingly,
"how many are there who have '
no shelter from the KlOrm this night! How,
then, can I complain! Tbolittle I can do
to relievo those who suffer, more than compensates
me for the trouble it ffives."
Another pull at the bell, "{no violence of
which filled the whole house with echoes, interrupted
this colloquy. Doctor D., now
ready,1left his wife, wondering why people
could not choose a more convenient hour for I
being ill, and descending the stairs, had soon
opened the hall door.
A woman, shuddering with cold and anxiety,
stood before him. By the light of the
gas lamp, which cast a trembling glare
around, he saw with surprise and pity that
she was A ery young; her features wore hand- 1
some, but discolored by exposure ; and under
its long lashes a sunken eye, which told
a sad tale of suffering and toil, looked a silent,
imploring prayer at the old man.
A dark suspicion had cros ed his mind at
first * * * but, as his eyo fell upon the
frail, thin form of tire young girl, barely
wrapped In an old, thread-bare shawl, his
heart smote him for the cruel thought.
"Oh 1 Doctor," she exclaimed, as she saw
his look change to oue of deep compassion,
and her teeth chattered, and her trembling
hands sought to hurry him away: "Oli !
Doctor, come to my mother ! She is dying!
and none, none," sue added bitterly, "near
to comfert her 1"
lie stopped to hear no more ; hut first he
dosired to wrap his warm cloak around ber.
She would not let him.
"I am used to such weather," she said,
"and have long since forgot to feel cold.?
lint her limbs shook ccnclitiively as she
said it. "It would kill you, child," insisted \
the old man, "and then, continued ho in a
whisper, "who would nurse your mother 1" '
She made no more resistance; a flame of
hope burst from her eyes, and the look
which met tho Doctor's gaze, made him forget
his owu warm room, the biting cold, tho
sudden guars of wind that blew against bis
face, as tbey hurried across each street?ho
forgot all iu the contemplation of this sublime
example of filial love.
On the way he questioned the young girl
ubout her mother's situnlion. She told him
that for several months her mother had
seemed ill. To all her daughter's entreaties
to call in medical aid, she had given this answer
: "My dear child, I nm only weak
from much sowing, but not ill. It will soon
be over, aud wero I to cousult a physician it
would be useless expense, and you kuow our
means could not spare it." And she had
continued to sew aud look worse every day,
until that night on finishing a dress she had
promised to get read v for Chiistuiaa morning,
she had suddenly fainted and fallen to
theground. The daughter had with diffi- (
culty lifted her to the bed, and in the greatest
alarm had come to Dr. D., for he had
the reputation of a compassionate man. 1
To his questions as to what causes had 1
led to so much toil on her mother's part, alio '
kept a sad silence, in which the Doctor guessed
there lay a fatal secret.
At lost, ufter winding through the uar- '
row, uupaved streets that mark the rear of (
\ New Orleans, she stopped before a dreary '
and tottering house, uud eugerlr pushing
open the croaking door, she led the Doctor J
through a dark, narrow hall up a few groaning
stair?, and turning suddenly to the right
they stood at the door of a small room, where
want ka/l ainoA ?? 4 A
<??.* IVI'^ OIIIW l/VA-ll t? IOOIUUUU /I |
dickering lamp threw but enough of fitful j1
light to make the few object* it contained
disceroable. In the centre of the place '
stood or rather leaned an old mahogany ta- 1
ble, which might havo long before seen bet
ter dav'M, around which were placed two or ?
three half soatlcss chair*; n small, low bod in I
one corner .and a broken bcreau in another, on
which were tome coarse crockery, completed i
the picture of desolation and penury, which <
seemed wishing to hide itself from the Doctor's
eye as he softly crossed the threshold. 1
lie looked for the hoarth; it seemed damp 1
and choerlcss. i
A few black coals and eomo white ashes, I
which were playing with the wind as it *
howled down the chimney, was all bo saw 1
there. l|is eye rested on the table. A glos
m silk dress, just finished, reflected the dim 1
j light ia painful contrast U> the dull black I
1 2* * as
ihawl which the young girl had jw* laid
near it as she rushed lo her mother"* bedride.
A low moan, in *ad harmony with nil
iround, fj!!ov.c<f by a short, har*h cough,
itruck his ear. "I thought so," he inntter2*1,
"consumption has nearly completed its
*ork
"Henry," asked a low voice anxionsl!y?
Henry, is it von V*
'tNo mother, it is kind Dr. IX, who has
xjnu' to euro yoiu"
' "Doctor?he i* too kite, tain?going
Henry?" she called faintly, as her eyes reeled
upon thp door. "Not there," she conlinui'd,
will, si despedring countenance. "I
will die?without swing him." She shivera*
2. ? 1 'f
3u, ui* very wmt*
The doctor fclt a. tear start to his eye, nnd
taking I lis cloak, which the youug girl find
quitted, he stretched it over the turu blanket
which covered the dying woman. Then
drawing from his j>ocket a small case, which
he always carried, he poured from a vial a
few drops of liquid into a cup that contained.
some water, and raising the sick mother'shead,
presented the draught to her parched
lips. She drank eagerly, while her teeth
chntterod against the edge of the cup, as nervously
Bhe clutched the doctor's arms. He
laid her quietly down, and in a few minutes-she
had fallen into a calm sleep, interrupted
ever and anon by the same dry cough he
had heard 011 entering. Then, by a silent
gesture, ho called the sobbing girl to his side
in tlic furthest part of the room.
"We must make afire and warm the room
a little," whispered he.
"There is not a ftiek of wood in the house,"
was the despairing answer.
The doctor felt as if a hand of iron was
encircling his heart; he said no more; but,
with as little noise us possible, took up
one of tho crippled chairs, and separated its
shaky pieces. Then, by the aid of the lamp,
he managed to kindle a rinme, which, mounting
with a broad glare, exposed in an unearthly
light the obscurest corners of that
room of woe. They saw tho dying woman,
over whose pallid features seemed to play a
ray of hope, as ever and anon, sho muttered
in her dream, tho nanve of "Henry."
In another part of the city, one of the 1
fasliioimhie restaurant* U-brillaiutly illumed.
Through the closed blinds a stream, of light
Hows out into the dark street below, .and
shouts of mirth and the ringing of glasses
betray the scene within. Enter with me,
reader, and in a room hung with gorgeous
tapestry, where the grato is heaped with
crackling coals ; where bright mirrors reflect
the glare of the rich chandeliers; where
round a table heaped with the remains of a
choice supper, sparkling decanters and dusky
green bottles are passing from, hand to band,
you will see one in a thousand such sights
as that room has seen.
There are eight of them ; four men, all
young, all belonging to the best families of
the town, lly the side of -each sits a woman,
whose flashy dress, coarse accent and
excited manners, bespeak her position?the
lowest of the low.
They have been to the opera, and this is
not the end of their celebration of the birth
of Christ. Seo them laughing, singing,
driuking, as if earth had no cares for them,
no duties, save in the pursuit of pleasure!?
Who could think that porhaps their wivies,
mothers, sisters were barely sheltered from
iho itorm, while tfcsjr forgot all, all, save
pleasure uud excitement I Still, so it was,
at least, with one of the number. Yes Henry
M.'s share in the expenses of that night
would have carried ease and comfort in his
family for wtjeks; would have made less horrible
the scene of his mother's death bed /?
lie did not even know she was ill; for
months he had seen her but a few moments '
each day, and then cither to tear from her
the hard earnings of ^ter needle, or when,
with u soft look of reproof, she, night after
night, guided his reeling steps into his own
room. And see him here ! the loudest in his
mirth, the first to drain the fatal bowl.
It wasjuat three hours after midnight, as
they all arose to loave, for another, a worse
lestination ; all hut M-, w ho had just suejumbed
beneath the influence of tho extramlmniv
niiaiilitv of spirits lie had fuLv.n
* 1 knew he could not siaud so ranch," x.
;hiiuied one of the young men at tho sight;
George, you have won llie bet J"
"Yev answered George, delighted, "he
liit the wrong man when lie bet with me;"
ftnd amidst the jeers and luiighter of the women,
they led him out into the street, but mh
toon as the cold air struck him, the effects
j( the spirits were so potent that he could
not stir.
"Oh, well! lie can'teoino with us to-night,"
exclaimed one, "und we had better send
liitu home in a cab."
"Yes," added one of the women, with a
?ncer, "and let his sister take euro of him ;
Dur engagements don't go so far!"
Unheeding tho oaths and threats of the
infuriated Henry, who swore he war as so
MM Illiv ilium onrl ttifjAiililr.'t
" "7 " "?-( ..WU.U1. .JJU IIU'IIO
ii!l morning," they thrust him into on* of
the numerous cab* which always surround
juch places, and having given the destination
to the driver, left him.to hi* fate.
Let him ride through the satno streets,
where a few hours befor* his poor sister bad
|ed Ihx-tor 1).; and return to th-room where
f . - 77S?!.
hovering death is slowly lowering on bis
prey. i
The mother had just opened her now ginsay
eyes, and with het Inst remains ofstreugth
after looking anxiously around the room. ?
turns thein despairingly towards the still I
closed door. The doctor snw that sho wain!
dying fawt; that no earthly power could
madce her live more than a few fleeting mo- j i
menu. "Alice," she coughed", and- each!
word cost her a henrl-rending effort; "Alice1
bo will not?come?even?to see?his ,
mother ?-die." Sheceawed, and seemed making
:i Inst effort to n<Jd something more; hik! i
in that instant no sound was heard save the
mournful wind outside, and the choked sobs
of Alice, who was kneeling by her motherVj
side.
"Tel!?him*?I?blessed ?him?with?" ,
but the effort was too strong ; the last thread !
oflifu which had held the soul in that suffusing
frame was broken, and she died in tlio Doctor's
arms.
One loud, wilk shriek burst from the
very heart of Alieo, as her mother's head
dropped heavily down?and then lite door
was suddenly thrown open and a man tottered
over the threshold, liis look was wild;
he grasped the wall for support; that shierk
had reached the bottom of his soul. For a
moment his haggard gaze was fixed, upon
that death scene; a terriblfe struggle seemed
taking place within him, and suddenly, with
a deep moan, he rushed forward and fell
kneeling by the side of Alice. He threw
himself upon the litfcless body, and, as if to
light its extinguishing; spirit from the fire
j which burns within his own heart, he pressed
her in liis arms.
"Mother,!, mother!" he exclaimed, and
sobs choked bis utterance and his voice was
hoarse. "Look upon your son once mbref~
! Forgive me, mother! Dead! dead I and by
me," lie murmured, as the body dropped
cold from his arms. Then throwing himself
at Alice's feet, "Alice, forgive inc, I will be
a brother, for I was not u son !"
The weeping sistor threw her arms around
his neck; they tniuglcd their sobs together,
and the mother's soul must have
smiled on them as it mounted up to heaven.
Slowly and by degrees his grief became
more calm, and when at last he pressed the
doctor's hand, with silent thanks for his attention
to the unconscious form before liini,
a fixed and stern resolve was stamped upon
his features; beseemed to have made in his
soul a solemn oath as he gazed upon the or1
phan sister. The fumes of wine had left no
trace upon his mind as they vanished before
that death-bed.
e- * * *
"Thirteen years have passed since that
event look place," oonthuved Dr. D. "Henry
is now one of the most successful, yet
honorable merchants of New Orleans, and
Alice, a happy wife, instils in the ininds of
her children the holy words, 'Honor thy
father and thy mother "
Ibe t| o u i> g -Bride.
"I wonder why Emeline is so and tonight?
One would suppose that on the
I evening immediately preceding her bridal she
would be happy, if ever." Thus soliloquized
1 Mrs. Pcmberton, ns Emeline Barton passed
through the parlor,where she sat reading. As
the render has already inferred, the day snecccding
the oneon which our narrative opens
was to witness the union of Emetine with
one, to whom her heart's best affections had
long been given ; that one was Cyrus Bordale.
At an early age Emeline was loft an orphan.
On the settlement of her f.ilhor's estate
it was found that there was scarcely
enough remaining to bestow upon his only
child the rudiments of an English education.
A maternal uncle had kindly offered her n
home, and as she was ever treated with uniform
kiudness, and the most affectionate regard,
she felt less keenly her loss than she
would have done had it been otherwise.
But though undo, mint, ami cousin were as
kind as heart could wish, and though after
a few years attendance at the district school
she was regarded as having more than ordinary
accomplishments, yet she possessed a
mind that grasped ?ft*r stil' inore lofty attain
meats. She early learned that true greatness
consisted more tn moral and mental worth
than in the possession of wealth, and though
she was unfortunately denied the means
of defraying the expenses of an ac
adeinical education, yet she determined
that this should not form an insuperable
barrier of her ascending the rug
ged hill of science. Mot a moment of her
leisure time was allowed to pass unemployed
; but while others wero seeking enjoymout
from other sources, she found hers, in
poring over some volume fioin which useful
knowledge could be derived. At the age of
sixteen sue saw an offer ofoue hundred dollar*,
by the publisher of a popular magazine, j
for the best essay on female education, and
not without many misgivings, its* true, but
with a determination to do her best, succeed
or fail, she set about the task, and though
there were inauy compoittors, she succeeded,
not only to win the prize, hut to command
the admiration and spontaneous encomiums
of all who read her production. Hor name
was not given to the public, and this fact v^e
have mentioned, lest any should como to
the absurd conclusion that becoming; a?t*testy,
and Hi in fortitude and self-reliance are
uncongenial. Now were the means placed
in her bands to grntify her long elieiuJhed?<
Jtteire to mvmii herself of the benefits of the
female seminary, sBH<b w*s ?f no mean celebrity,
in a neighboring village.
Three years she passed in this classic ha!$
supplying her wants by the profit nriaing
from the productions of her pen, which she
employed (Idling the hour* tliat uiany of
her schoolmates devoted to trivial Kinase-r
nionts. But her good sense prompted hor
to take the exercise requisite for her health.
Examination day emtio, and - nmoug many
wlso Imd toiled hard, and who were deserving
of much credit, Emeline bore the palm.
There were not a few atnongat the delighted
spectators who were deeply interested ; but
there was ono, who, when Emeline came qiy
the stage, kept his eyes fixed on hor wifn1
the deepest interest, which Iiq could npt
avoid betraying. And who was ho! The
renders shall know. In a city far away,
from the location of this he lived. He was*
a young man of no mean endowments, ana
literary accomplishments, and wealth?all
that heHrt could wish?waa hi*. - For $crimr*
al months, with the deepest interest, had he
perused the articles in one of the moat popular
periodicals in the country, published ;u
this city, written by our heroine over an a*suined
signature^ but bearing 'evidence not.only
of having been written by a female, bhf
one of no ordinary cist of mind. With each
succeeding article lus interest increased, and
he came to the determination to form a personal
hcquaintance with the authoress, who-'
ever she might l>e. But houO td ascertain
her real naiue and residence wefte questions
more easily propounded than decided. The
only plan that to hiih appeared feasible was
to inquire at the publication offico of the
publisher.' It was with difficulty that be induced
the publisher to disclose thesecret confided
to" liim by his correspondent; but W
filially succeeded, and immediately set off to
the seminary, and arrived there on the day
of her examination. Our renders Iimk drml??
, #r.uiy wBveu ine forest
trees. A few among her many friends
assembled to witness the ceremony and to
give their parting blessing to the young
bride who was now about to loare them,
perhaps forever. The sun was sinking behind
western hills, and threw lengthened
shadows across the landscape^ as Mr. and
Mrs. Bordale stepped into a carriage which
was to convey them to a steamboat some
half mile distant. On the third day they
arrived in the far-famed Empire City ; their
carriage slopped before an elegant mansion.
"Thia,'*Mid Cyrus to Ids -bride, "is you?
future home. \Vhen you consented to hecome
mine, you supposed you were uniting
yourself to honest poverty ; and this stratagem
I MM, that I might be {.are of winning
less, ere this, guessed that the personage
last introduced was Cyrus Boidale;; if-'soythey
need not gttess again;1Of
her circumstances, so far as poverty or
Wealth was concerned, he knew nothing;
and he hud seen too much of the blind adoiation
paid to wealth,'and, the unhappy conrsequeiiccs
of giving it preferenoo to real",
worth, to wish to made a victim to' selfishnees.
Ahd ' he determined that 'whoever
shared his wealth, should do so not for tliat;
but for him.
Accordingly he passed in that village for
an itinerant artist, and was attired in- indifferent
apparel. In his assumed character
hj obtained an introduction to, and acquaintance
with Emetine. If, from perusing the
production* of he pen, h'e lvad been indueecL
to respect the talents of the author, a personal
acquaintance produced in hitn emotions
of a deeper, purer holier nature.
As he sat by. her side, and listened
to the sublime sentiments that fell from,
iter lip*; as with her he walked bciMati*
the moonlight's pale beams ; a* l&r fingers
swept skillfully over the keys of
the piatio, and her well cultivated voice
accomplished their music; and above
all, as he had evidence that she bad
given her inflections to her Redeemer, be Adt
that she was, indeed, one with w! O n it
would be no ordinary blessing to journey
through the rugged lano of life. The fact
(which he learned from her) that she had,
by dint of her own perseverance and toi'fc
encountered difficulties of no small moment.
O achieve what she hml 1" h!- ?-i? ?1 -
, ? n ?>*mi Mi
rich lustre over her character lie u'boed
and won her. Months glided by to the
boundless ocean of eternity, and! th'd"' time
when Eiueline was to leave the friends of
her youth was at hand. None but those
who have l>een under the necessity of' testing
themselves away from the home and
friemU^f their childhood, can appreciate feer
fttelingr.. Emotions strange?painful auj
yet joyful?pervaded her bosom, and tears
came unbidden to her eyes, as she reflected
that this was the last night she would remain
under the roof of her endeared rein,*
lives: that on the morrow she was to go
with niin, on \vbo*earm she was hitherto to
lean, far, far away. No wonder, then, that
she looked sad, no wonder that the sadness
of her countenance attracted the notice o!
her attcctionnte aunt.
The morrow, the memorable morrow,
came. The king of day rose in all his loveliness
and grandeur, and shed a rich lustre
over the varied hues of autumn, while the
vwitul ?