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Z. PAGAN, Editor and Proprietor.
liltd f ale.
From the American Monthly Magazine.
,. ,. , SELOME.
: t k. LSAFFROJt LIFE
. . CHAPTER I.
8ipteube!i1 cud t day of resplendent
neauiy. i ne sj miner nao reacneo its tul-,
;,Bof glory, and iU season of vest was arms about the young man's neck, and the
nigh.' The fairy time lia' come those ! nxt instant he was pressing lior to his
days when neve r wiiispci oreatlies in the j throbbing breast. "I could not live with
trees, never v lcf nods oa it stem, nor r 1 out bidding her adieu," she whispered; "it
sparkling i-ippjtuaovt.:. on tlie steainj when ; was cruel, Julian, to steal her away from
th silvery pilei of cloui's float lazily oveh-! me thusj 1 would not have murmured if
" the beoveoi1 lie rt rest o their rznre : you thought it right; but she is my child,
bcls, pne1 t'ie vlwle ect!) mk6 ei-joying ; 'should die if 1 might not see her
' 'one long, uercioiVRr.i. j sweet face once more."
YettaegoUe.isuiio .rut ,m,6't oe? ! l.inwood (tisengnged himself from her
ed in !..(' out n.ions ilw horfes o.' ,,ieu, Pm;,,a!.p, nnd, without a word, hurried to
shot' iislust.eo ..iRMy eaeT u.-rowit.,4 ,j00,.0f ,js Hpnrtincnt,wid turned the
' well a. joy, oven hs U b.Vi.ifit.' alike oit ti.e I !;ey , oc!. tllon waik'ing- back to the
just ant tiio ui just. i ovv wcJiiing mother, he seated himself be-
"! I shelteree aoo1: of mewkw Jr m1, that i Bt9 i,e,- in silence. For some time no
- slopes swcefi.ll; :'ow;i .o !tv k. of the wor(i v, , 10rn, The sobs of the quad-wiijdi.i-
Hive. CI o.-K'-l ndbi- nble,-.ia ti gPttw fi,-:nter and fainter, till at
. sioi? oi p. u;que -t.uui.e. v Lose ; ,
wa!U, rfd.e ' oo 'M4 . ir ute tac': oi
chimney -,iec' 3 i ,r. .o. Noi i' e ?rr-
l ly t-tj of 2 e; : n4S .(. lr -ir-eiy el...
v threw, t: soU. -..p.o: .oiVii ', . lic-
; boilfhtof i'S veit; iel J, .-. 'Ijf
gla wit!. -i'.s .;-;s;ei'; uic'e" o.r t' e
" proui' lint'eii. -r - lie ,.V );.' .: i" ci!V'e
tellt toles o
tie Pn if ; e tea i
it uasaeep .;t.-,)Ip iter; r.i '.he evro s ie, , , ...
' 1 ci"i.i ta iiea, so lotdy worn tnere, hadiriv
- taste, isolayec . jc'e.i? i Piig?m?ti f . . ,. j . . ' , ,
, , . r, . I 'JCf ,o .roul)leo perplexity and alarm
ol nouse rn 'iev-ti- 3pcr!i& olai. ly tje1 , . . , . , ,
n , . I iirov wan contracted as with deep
weelt oi t.ie fl.v.iei", i . r
" , . , 1 l(,US '
Sortie tirli rozp... )'eavs i)rcvioui o tlie
. time wsiew-jy ito. .otnmences, .his fi-e ! "( l,,rice " ,)e 8nid' "how y came here
-oliVIace .ecdeii bv :i.hentn.,c3 Lo!lkno'; noi'! m,t b coming you moy ruin
young Di". Liarleton, u jo :mmeiia.eiy uiai!e
. it iiis home, t.n set cbout beautifying i mi
Improving i s iiib 'Oiicy c iutotud. Tlie
bright ei'tUiiiiiMU' seemei' ;olin;ei ioviugl;
around tliif, s ot. i;!iere. o.i r .ile.iba.u. r.-
.ternoou 1., Seo.embe.-, f.e ...erry voi.es 0: " '"'"S wt 1 uia'
childhood echoed t:..x.uh. .he valley, a, t e! l,ile -'ou v'ete bWo I only meant to
green hilM.'eMu. iiaci tl.ei. me- o, i,, -i s ,r V0' -J P"''" Your presence
ing lauglue.- o ,ia,,.y so,it. (Jut i:,e .h i-1 w 3,"t ny me T1,e frien,lli
.drentVre of their s.oo.ts et le.igih. rn l,!''1' tV,,0" ,( a'" "iust not know of yur
hand in hand, haunter i-locly town lo ii.e
old moss-covered eu by the liver side.
where t!)e silvery biris'i fen iivb its &!nu -'
.owe iav ove the ip.ili.i'. v. ; ves. j
., Can t icj Je sisters these three liitV :
fairies! r.i.i.; I'r. iollfis. tun' -.;p
the eldest o i tlie group, is . olue-?yet.,i.i,i'
haireii girl oi' so.oe te,i .. it 1 ,e ;
ruddy -lue o" ietflt'Mee')"ni ,'). e iai:t -Ing
free, a.i(' 'u. : i U.A-e u-rkir . ?.
pretty, ui.ii ilea, fills. -uu- o ' i. e
trio, tlioug."' le siste . 6:v w fi
ture, isi .w.kf elicvte looking !i'!
oft naze) eyes h lei'V.j yve j. . " . ro.-.v
her, p.id f ' lovcir ? z'.u 'f-. cu.li i.,
over Iter &. o vy kmo.i,
l3n v ::iC 'ii.l
lome, v'ie.ce i .. e ik:
brow, ler 'epvy mU r . .-.Ipc
eui: lier ierje, ips'ii'S . ss eye . . .
iai;Iuse au. .lasbio !. e-ery jtsc : :i
drewjoo. of " cr'iajf"' CP ee ... . '.r
coaUM.i I' t r ojt:.vr:;. o' er o -
panibiifc, ills tlie j ol.e tcelei.. c -
cling iier i,u)!, i it' . If .io,.' c.ob w,: -
ling on . er bosom, A.ar. Hill .. ore - i.-ely !
the d'.tiiictiou; ;:. i'u c 'Idr- ec'i ... '
r.ot :;.eJiffereuce,'ii iuijuiiit;- ;c siti
Oi t.:..,'..' .': : ...se,
pWi'- .' i,-. ):'.:. w . .' ,
61 .tely ilt'DSIO . .
lice . jr -',e,
tones o., sonic bi' lc
Interest. I": goo,
r;pre r. trorble.' s r
'. oc i .
' e '.I-
. '1 -
hand aeemec r-1 : ?-'o-r. )u'' I
Plreatly wit' but lit')? eec for "wj
, last cords, rs tney left L or9 to joi- t''e
(tjhiidea on the krra, r;er, "I 'f r greet
wJstaie. Allyn, twi I iet: je muc'.i be ivill
rue the daf of t'lis ceierj'.'ition. lie
ntry think no-v t'a, iie is ztaaUg, ia u att-t-pre,
for the rro.:g lie lias tous the poor
child's mother; out if je I ires io the time
when hit littje Selome slid! jbe aa onyn t
child, he will (nd tiftX he Ita reared her to
a. life of sorrow.''
In another apartment In tlva Wors
home, reclining on e luxurioassoft, lay the
wealthy young southerner, Julian Linwood;
the spoiled pet of a doating oiother, the
heir 'to a princely fortune, the child on.
whom nature had lavishly bestowed her
choicest tills, lie ie not sleeping, though
bis closed eyes might, perchance, deceive
as; but ho ii dreaming over his distant
home, and a shade of sadness steal ovar
his brow at be murmurs, half aloud-
"Poor girl i poor poor girl ! it It Indeed
a r.&rd ute, but I see no way to avert it,
It ls,dert!n7HettiojJ; .
, WitMi $0iral, $tM& ' is' wttm nlensis, fiferatort, JSriente, nnir
A soft kiss on his lips aroueed him from
his drearaings, and he opened his eyes to
behold, bending over him, a form of woman
ly beauty, through whose dark cheeks the
rich blood of health coursed warmly, and
whose brill iant orbs looked lovingly into
the (lepths of his own. He started from his
couch, and, gazing wildly at the intruder,
"Good 12 od I Clarice, what brings you
nerer But tne do rK -eyed one threw her
lnl i. turn n;r to her companion, she pas
sio . e. j cni juiec lumto speak to her.
"Onl, on .lord, Julian," she pleaded;
's- t'n-t 1 .nay see my Sclome, our
c. ;, 'j tce aio,-:, and 1 will bless you for
eve YvuiiO' in-'-ooi' turned slowly to the sup
ilioali..(: b.- i besii'e him, but tiis counten-
i H if'fc' '1.-4 .tu.tr.i..l Tlta nnCniifia f
i.iV plans completely. I did not think this
o you, r!: am ot prepared for it. I have
until n1,' .osny io you that has not been
-bm al.eotiy; joi
dk know in j mov.ves in acting .
wti.ey ere for the child's
txisience, tiiucii less that you are here, and
ync xiisi leave as you came. To-morrow
' 'turi! 'lome. You will go with me, and
..'Im.ie ,nubt not know that you have been
, turuw ncrssu on i.er luces
- ... . ..t i ii. i i
in- mi i, nJS or tne deepest woe
ue' ,u' l sec "er .ci,lld 0,,ce ,,,ore-
i iii i tiavB cone wrong, sne saiu;
"ol" . .'ill i'll
yo.. mew too t,ep,ns or a
.. . l . - . . .t r
. .bi. e oBss, "ou coin., not censure
j i i . k love you ever felt for
ho1. ..t ui'.ne you made me,
oe .10 sl 've, even though 1
ve, even though
,.ay see my precious one
': J.tlian strive to soothe her.
o ieel that my daughter
lorn' i isowii
mother ! thut
a.e ...i-tulied over from the
) ni s'.e who hns made my
or-e, fcin.ul Hiong'i I sm-
... . K .0 .0 ei wiwgnvo her
'uliun, Julian, It i,iOo inuch !
;iil 01 complain," she added, "if I
H.liii once (.gain to my
'7'r. , Vi will
rv... ... "je i.. .fh.st
! ' , "I '.
, "(I .,V"i
V. i en the
j you: out
real? : r:; l .
.et mi lu Silence."
Ii.Un. and I never break
i..y vor ,' s.e ...swered.as he closed the
our .i;)ui' 'ier, i nu uiooouy tougui ine sou
breoze oi the crarden to fan bis feverish
oroi7 ami cool his brain.
Up cad dowd the long, winding paths
trod tlifl troubled man,- while conscience
was jjsily at work within him, endeavor
ing to prove to him his true position.
7iet caa I do!" he mentally asked. "It
is 0 ttenge situation for a fellow to find
bimseli' '.a. Curse this institution of slave
ry ! It is wrong somewhere, I am convin
ced; but alas I the conviction has come too
late. It is cruel to take Clarice home
alone; but I cannot make her my wife, and
I.sea uo wsy of atoning for the past hut in
leaving Selome to be educated at my daugh
tor. It it hard, but it must ba done," was
hit conclutlon, at tho little t-irl came boun -
&tg toward- iini, followed by her compan-
, ions, end with them the friends who were
heroafler. to supply toe place of parents to
1 th sontherd girl.
"If I stay -with aonK Carletbnr when
will you come for me, papal" she asked;
"and when shall I see mamma again!"
"Next summer, darling," he answered,
as he gave her a kiss; for he really loved
the child; "and in the mean time Sella
must be a good girl and learn all she can, to
please papa." -
The doctor's little wife turned her face
sadly from the scene; for, notwithstanding
the statement of Linwood, that his wite,
the child's mother, was desirous that she
should receive the benefit of a northern
education, she had her own suspicions about
the truth of the story. Sleepless nights
had she passed since their arrival long
hours of anxious thought and reflection,
But although, as she said, she felt convinced
that the result must be unhappiness to the
child, yet she was sure there must eventu
ally be still greater misery, were she taken
back to her sunny home.
The evening meal was partaken of in a
spirit of sadness by all but the children.
Mrs. Carleton herself was vaguely troubled
by a feeling of insecurity and doubt as to
the position in which she was placing her
self as guardian over this child; while the
doctor wos serious and quiet from sympa
thy. Young Linwood appeared abstracted
and moody; and the doctor, as he noticed
the quick glances of his bold, daring eye,
and his sudden start at every sound, won
dered what strange humor was come upon
him. And thus the repast, usually so pleas
ant and cheering, was hastily and gloomily
despatched, and the little ones were taken
away to their downy nests.
Dr. Carleton, as was his invariable cus
tom after tea, threw himself upon the sod,
green mots beneath his favorite willow,
and smoked his cigar, dozing and day
dreaming the while, as gentlemen are apt
to do who have no earthly cares or troubles
to annoy them, and a great store of blessings
to be thankful for. But the lady of the
mansion and her handsome guest sat long
over the tea table, planning, arrangingand
calcuIating the de8tiny of the litUe being
about t0 ba ,eft jn hercare and to whom
she must becone protector, friend, and
These preparatory measures were all con
cluded at length. The lost spark at the
end of the doctor's cigar had disappeared,
and he finished his day dreams, to prepare
for the more fanciful but far less deluding
visions of his sleeping hours. The party
retired to their rest.
An hour Inter, and thernlm. nlnetd mnnn
1()oke(, down Qn the tp?ca q th(J
blue watergj om whose boBDm ot a ghade
rested, and watched the million golden
stars dancinsr and SDarklinc in their mid
" ' "
night revels like spirits of the deep, who
,.i, . j u
.. . - .-. - - -
in the cells of sleep. It was a glorious
sight, and a mortal might gazed forever.
But the moon has other scenes beneath
So she peep)jd down through tfce quiyer
ing boughs of the birch and willow, to glad.
dpn .he hlnRsnmn nlppninor hplnlu. nnil with
bor mngical touch she flung shadow here
, s - ......
, ,id liiiht thene. till thin aimnte N ev fi'mr.
' ian( ,oine shone resplendent as fairyland.
She looked in through the half-closed blinds
0f tbe sittmg room; and finding all as it
1 should be there, she sought tlie sloenimr I
LMrfma k..a ...kANA
I a - - 1 o
dreaminflr of naticnts and feUa. while hi,
Wjfe Bieptpencer)ly by his side.
Lo,:t, t,,e 00M nougfithut'tranquUr..'
ty ,,; gladness to-night! Ah si in tins
8Hme h8!)py hl .-,e) Mtwj M-aratod from i
thobe who slumber quietly in tl.eir in.io -
"kVcencu, kneels by tho bedside ofher only
!.m . u.u...i, f. -
ing( ln her RgonV) fo the Go( w,jnm 8n0
..oaivuiwnrji uiUi,..ei,.ciTciii.ljr inuj -
,ardly knows but by name, that he will
take the bitter cup from her lips.
j Jt B the dark lady wbo 0 Btartled the
; i0Utbern gentleman by her unexpected
presence in the afternoon.. She has follow
ed wildly, from her home on the banks of
the far off Cumberland, with an almost de
spairing hope buruing in her bosom that her
child might be restored to her. .
Poor suffering daughter of shame and
tin, thy journey sball avail thee nought.
All thy deep sorrow, all thy tears, thy woe,
thy prayers will not move from his purpose
the father of thy child. ' Tut child!1 Thou
mayst not call her thine now, for she shall
know thee no more. Alas I when thou first
gatedst into the depths .of her dark eyes,
and saw that she was more her father's child
than thine that the Inherited hia feature!
hit raven locks, and much more hit com
plexion than thine, how thouldst thou
' know that thy fervent joy wat but the fore-
runner of such bitterness ai this! But
thou art a slave !
The little Selome murmured incoherent
ly in her sleep, and tossing restlessly on
ier bed, cast her4 arms'. Wound her" dark
OHIO, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 13. 1856.
mother's neck. It was the Jast time tbey i
ever rested there.
As the moon went down behind ilie wes
. . . .
tern hills, two figures glided from the shrd
ow of the garden, and hurried on towards
the village tavern, where they parted, but
to meet again in the morning; i.ud when
the start shone pexfin the river's depths,
they were far on their way to the southern
"What have we here?" inquired the
stately Madam Lawrence, as she entered
the hall of her academy one brig! t sum
mer morning, where she encountered a
group of youn(
... . ... . . ,
g ladies, chatting one kiigh-:
. .i , .n :
ing with rather
ICI U1UIO IIIIIU UJO t'.JlUt. l UlC I
quantity of noise. "A flock of bleo'tbirds, '
or a nest of magpies, I judge." Anc the !
lady smiled kindly as the received t.ie sal-;
utations of her pupils.
"Pray excuse us, madam," answered tlie
pretty Carrie Denton; "we were rather
noisy; but Selome here it to frightened at'
the idea of being May Queen tkt we
could not help laughing at her, indeed For
my part," added the merry girl, "I should
. , , .... , , ,
be perfectly happy if I deserveu such an'
honor, and I onlv wi,h I had .todied more. I
as she has done, that I might relieve her
of her burden of laurels."
"She has done well," said Madam Law
rence, "and fully merits our approval,"
Then turning to the blushing Selome, she
. - j
continued, "But the consciousness of well i dark, searching eyes; a thought less glee
doing is its best reward is it not, my j ful perhaps, but more passionate and lov-
ear'" i ing;lhe telltale blush; the tame clear,
"It is, indeed, madam," replied the !.,:. b,., rounJ whith e lwinpil
maiden; and 1 would gladly be excused j
I.UUI .CbDITlUg uiij ubuei iiiuu tula, auu uiu
own kind words."
"You are too timid, Miss Linwood,"
smilingly remarked the teacher. "We
must overcome this. It is no such fearful
ordeal as you seem to imagine this being
crowned May Queen' and (,arne has just
told you now gladly she would accept the
honor. But come young ladies," she con
tinued, "the sun is getting high, tnd the
gentlemen will be here anon; so a.rt.y your
selves at once, and be in readiness to accom
Ashwood Academy was an old establish
ment, and in its most palmy days the fin
ishing school, from which graduated many
young ladies who afterwards shone as strrs
in the literary world, or bright luminaries
in the circle of social life froui which
youth of no ordinary tnlent stepped forth
into the world without, who have since
figured largely on the stage of existence,
and helped to administer the laws of na
tions. v.. biw.ivviiuu iiuio never laiicu lu
. . , ii. ,
bring reward, not only in the tctual. mount ;
ot good gained, but in tne venous sources
i 1 mtA .nnlij..liAn Im.n n . f:l.l .
of amusement and gratilicciior which tiie
teachers delighted to dispense t rnon? i.heir
pupils; for they were twt firm oeiievers!
in the somewhat antiqum.). theory that '
young people shou d be .,vde . ..;ipy; that'
! th"H are not yet ""en and womea:; mu toat
' pleasure and gayetV (re h6 f:aiU'ftl Olhem
as sunlight and dew totne v.olsi ate tae j
wiVmo.. a . . . ... -!
flowers do not ooine Witb the name of.
Spring to our northern land; neither" Cces
hnbean,B March, Aprilttc M.y corne
and go, with their snow storms, their frosts .
thfiirkeen eBBter,y W'ndsanddrivii.g.a:ns,'
h" fit little blossom darea to .-a: :u:
hftud 8,)0ve tho m088i bl,t t ie &'veei,
: urettl" m June Byon ,ur06 inoV ineu-
' Bnu unoer 'i nappy auspices jtew
' r.ngiand oecomes a garuen ot bden. music-
, - - ....
1 al with the songs of birds and bright witii
the radiance of perfect days.
Ii was a cutom at Ashwood, end had
been from time immemorial, for teachers
and pupils to hold a picnic, in the month
of June, in the dark old woods that border
the shores of the lovely Lake Auburn, and
there to crown with the roses of summer
her who, by diligent application to books
and ladylike deportment, ranked first
among her associates at a scholar and a
Selome Linwood had won the prize; Dr.
Boyer himself bad read her name at the
head of thelistof deserving; Madam Law
rence had publicly announced the same to
the young ladies; her almost titter, Ella
Carleton, had kitted her 'cheek, assuring
her that she wat as glad at if the herself
had received it; and her old playfellow and
schoolmate, Willie Cutler, had hurried
breathlessly down the green lane, to be the
first to bear the tidings to his friend Mrs.
And Selome was ei happy as her young
heart could ' wish. Not a
clouded her page of 'life fine the day
when Aunt CarfeW promised to be a
mother to her; for faithfully had that
oromise been fulfilled.
Once every year came the rich Mr.
Linwood to visit his daughter and the only
sorrow the had ever known was, when,
on his second annual visit, he gravely
told her of her mother's death. Bitteily
did she weep herself to sleep in his arms
that night; but her childish grief was toon
forgotten, and her mother was spoken of
And now the day for the May party
was conic clear, clotidlers and balmy;
and when the sun hat rose h such glory
in ine morning, should aain go down, a
, . re.
11(fc"ry group of joyous ones, who vtre
w"8" " S would oe school
girl I10 lnSer- This was the last day of
L I I . i . . .
ineilf association as audi; and, although
the bright creatures were somew hat sad-
dened by tlie thought, little did they dream
iliai iht ir purest, happiest and most Inno-
CPrli diivs Iiad departed. 0, no ! Away
; , r each hm ne
led a dl.oau, of blig8 fof f
e. , ,
thev confidently expected to enjoy.
' ... ... . ...
Lel U8 gee 11 ,hc 1,11,8 80Ulhe glrl ba
realized the promise of her childhood.
There she stands in her robe of t poiltts
muslin, with the roy crown on her pret
ty head, and wieaths and garlands encir
cling I er fair foim. She has the same
heayier htMi of her jeuy hair ye8f
she is beautiful, and there is soul looking
forth from those lustrous eyes.
Strains of enlivening music suddenly
resounded through the woods, calling the
mirthful party to join in the giddy dance.
Will our fair queen deign to tread a
measure with the most loyal of her sub
jects?' and with an air of courtly dignity
and grace, young Walter Evans bent a
knee to the turf at her feet.
Selome laughed merrily at his serio
comic appearance, and bidding him rise,
was on tlie point of accepting his hand
for the figuie, when Willis Culler came
hurrying up to them, eajing, 'I am sorry
to have kepi you waiting, Miss Linwood,
but we w ' 1 1 join die dancers now if you
please.' With a.i embarrassed cir Selome
turned lo her first suitor, and said; 'You
will excuse me, Mr. Evans, but I had
i quite forgotten a promise to dance first
with Willis to-day;' and they passed on
.1 .1 1 ... t l
to the tei elready waiting for ihem.
, , , . , a, . . ,
A (lark cloud of anger suffused the face
oi ine rejecieu one as ne louiea nis arms
haughtily and walked away, muttering as I
,ie wen,i ' '8 alTy thus, proud beauty
Willis fini and Willis les wiih you;. as
if he were of more moment iha aught
' else on earth, despite Ins poveriy. By
: Hpnin. I'll pndnvn it nn lnnarar. 'Plii
my ighl will i ow from her own lips
my fa'e. If she meet my suit,' and he
' . . , J , , "
9,,',led b,llerly tl the l!,0"ht' l ha7e a
I 'erms, and humble her in the dust at my
et. So faying, the angry man moved.
stealthily and unheeded through tlie green
vhi'.ng path towards the village, and
por a whtje the dancers moved blithely
, t0 anrJ Jro ov the Kreengwavd; but the
. , .t. j
Leat oi ine miuusv son toon arove mem
f.orn their amuseraem to seek the re
freshing shade of the forest t.ces. beneath
whose branches they assembled in groups
or in pairs, to spend an hour hi quiet con
versation, or to unite their voices in song,
whose rich, clear music went ringing op
to heaven, along with the notes of birds
and the incense of flowers.
(concluded nest week.)
' IT IS HOT HAED TO DIE."
BY KM. M. A. DENNIS0N.
Now, doctor,' said a sweet-faced girl,
looking with confidence into the kind face
that had bent over her. to often, 'tell me
if there is any certainty that I shall ever
recover T I think not ; continually tor
menung myself with the question. Will
you not be candid with me, dear Doctor
'While there it life' commenced the
doctor,, but the frail young creaiure inter
, rupted him, saying i
No, no, doctor, that won't 1q i I mutt
hive your professional opinion v end. when
I say that my soul't happiness, for the
remnant of this life, will be affected by
your decision, aurely you will grant me
But could you bear'
Anything, doctor, but this euspense.
I am willing to be told the exact state of
my case; foi you tee, some days I feeljceive of; yet I have shuddered from to jf
so really well, that my hope is unduly j infancy at death. The thought of diss
excited, and again, when the sleepless i luiion, with its icy chili and quivering"
hours and terrible paint come, death takes ' breath, made me cold to my heart, and 1
an awful fhapc, and frightens me ont of, strive to forget it, hut cannot. Yet, since)
repose. But if I was certain she spoke ! you, since my mother, since all who kntfw
with tolemnitv 'I would teach mv mind ! me have made it a familiar tnJ a house
to dwell upon it in such a way that my j
foolish fears would leave me.
My sweet girl,' said the doctor, taking
her wasted hand, 'I will then grant this
request. You cannot certainly recover,
unless some extraordinary providence oc
curs. 1 our lite may be protracted some
months yet, but not over a year at the
farthest, so it seems to me.'
The pale cheek grew a shade paler,
but. the smile failed not on the gentle
Thank you, doctor,' was her reply,
'thank you for your trust and confidence
in me. You shall tee I will not abuse
The beautiful consumptive sat alone in
her large easy chair some momenta after
the doctor had gone. She gazed about
her on luxuries which wealth unbounded
had procured for her pleasure, and the
large untroubled eyes grew dim.
'Then I must die,' the said to herelf,
and oh, this fear, not of an hereafter, but
of that dread passing through that valley
which shadows my hours of suffering ?-
E ven my religion does not dissipate that
shrinking, shuddering fear. The impres-
tiont of my childhood will not pass away,
but return with new force.' And as she
thus half whispered to herself, a lovely
matron entered, and hurrying to her side,
kissed the fair brow.
You are better to-day, child she raid
in tones of (breed calmness ; 'nay, don't
shake your head so mournfully ; indeed,
if you knew ' how taueh improved you
appear,' and she drew alow seat towards
the young girl and sat gazing in her eyes
with the holy love of maternity.
'Mother,' said the consumptive, as she
took the matron's hand in her own,
'there, is something I want you to do for
'What is it, darling,? You know I
would lay down my life for you.'
For an instant the pale lip quivered ;
but commanding herself, the young girl
gently said :
'I want you to talk to me of death of
my own death, which is certain toon.'
My Amy 1' was all the mother could
articulate ; her voice seemed frozen by
'Yes, mother ; for, listen a moment, it
will make your poor sick child more wil
ling lo leave earth, and find heaven. If
you will talk daily and cheerfully of .my
passing away : if you will surround tlie
thought with cheerfullne8s, and make the
last struggle -seem pleasant to me, this
strange horror with which 1 regard it
would fade away, aud my mind be drawn
more wholly to tlie better land. It may
be a sacrifice to you, my mother, but 1
shall learn to look forward to my death
bed with calmness, which I strive in vain
to do now. Will you try to do lli'if, moth
er t Will you talk of it often t Will
you repeat the sweet words that dying
saints have spoken t Will you speak of
the smilet that reposed upon their faces,
until I can think cheerfully, and talk with
out reserve of that change, even as I
would lie down, and put my garments by,
ready to attire myself when I should
awake in the fair morning? Will you
tell those who come to see me never to
shrink from speaking to me of death!
Will you do this my mothers' .
The matron promised, and retired to
her chamber to shed the tears of anguish
born of this request. She too, had long
felt jhat her child mutt die, but had put
afar off 'the evil day And in the strength
of God she performed her duty. .
Seven months had patted, and still gen
tle Amy lived. The fatal ciimson burnt
iti death fire uto her cheek, nnd het eyes
gleamed with the fitful flash of disease
but spoilt her, sweet lips hovered a'con
VOLUME 2. NUMBER 6
stanl smile ; she had conquered her fear
of the king of terrors, and dwelt upon her
departure with almost exulting joy.1 '1
knew that through Christ 1 was prepares!
to go,' she said to her pastor ; 'I knew
that there were glories in the bright world
above, that the imagination cannot eon
hold word, clothed it in beautiful thoughts,
and surrounded it with heavenly images.
it has beeonie less nnd lees terrible, till
now lean hold my hand to him who un
locks ihe spirit, and say : 'Death where
is thy sting t' "
As she spoke thus, a ray from the set
ting sun imaged a crown of glory apart.
her fair brow. Her mother and friends
at that moment entered.
'Hush !' said the pastor with uplifted
hands, and they stood transfixed, With
this last holy smile he had marked an In'
stantaneous change ; and as he bent for
ward, through the lips so beautifully
wreathed, there came no breath.
'Well might she exclaim, 'Death where
is thy sling V said the pastor, turning:
with tear-filled eyes ; 'never taw I the
King of Terrors in to lovely a garb.-
How sweetly she steeps 1' : ; o
Aye, sweetly still, in a gmve-yard oppu
the hill-side and on the while shaft thai ..
bears her name, some loving hand hat
"He Doeth all Things Well."
written for tiie odive branch.
- V ...
Aye, treasure it op in your heart.
'He doeth all things well ' 'Tie a gol
den truth ; cheering many sad, lonely
hours, otherwise insupportable; bright
ening many along life-path, which but
for it would be dark and drear indeed.
0, ihen,' never begin to dnubtr but let the
blessed light of pure faith gild the knowl
edge Uiat Our Father's tender mercies are
over all his works. , 1 1 -
Youngmother dost ihou mourn that thy
darling sleeps sweetly oil the Saviour'
bosom X Thinkest tlmu that- the light
hrtth gone out forever I'rorrr lliy home ! .
Truly 'it is well with the child.' " "
Husband art thou sorrowing now that
(he loved and fondly-cherished one halli
gone home 7 Weep not, for so God git-
eth his beloved sleep.
Sister dost thou mortner that the band)
has becB broken t Does the home cirel
speak of the removal? Aye, trw link'
hath been taken from the chain uhhi earth)
lo be added to the chain in heaven. ' Alt
angel hath gone out froim thy home, but
an archangel has come back to dwell with)
thee forever. ' " "' "
'He doeth all things well believe if,
trust in One who is ever ready to aid us
in time of Reed, Verily, lis that made
us will remember we are but dust i and
lie that knoweth our frame will pity ou
infirmities. ' 11 '
fcT'The following r;iy be of some u:
to our lady readers. At any rate the ex-
periment would be a cheap and eimple'
one, and worth al least a trial r :
The perfume of flowers may be gather-
ed in a very simple manner, and without
apparatus. Gather the flowers with a '
little stocks as possible, and place then
in a jar three parts full of almond or olives-
oil. After being in the oil twenty-four1
hours, put them in a coarse cloth, and4
squeeie the oil from them. This procesp, '
with fresh flowers, is to be repeated ac '
cording to the strength of the perfume de '
tired. The oil being thut thoroughly
perfumed with the volatile principle of ;'
the flowers, it is to be mixed with an
equal quantity of pure rectified spirit,'
and shaken every day for a fortnight, 1
when it may be poured off, ready for use '
As the season for tweet scented blossoms. 1
is just approaching, this method may be
practically tested, and without any great
trouble or expense. It would add addU 1
tional interest to the cultivation of flow '
ers.Phila. Ledger. .
C7Thii just fills out tho column., '