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The Kaleidoscope : a family journal, devoted to literature, temperance and education. (Petersburg, Va.) 1855-1857, January 17, 1855, Image 2

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn97066026/1855-01-17/ed-1/seq-2/

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Straight and Cl
tr’e eye.
And the strong woman never yielded
once. In sickness, and when she felt
death coming inch by inch, she never
quailed; and the old hovel blossomed like
the rose, and shone out bright and pleas
ant to the last. Finally, the brave, strong
mother died, and, with a shudder, left her
little girl. Old Blake’s heart melted at
the deathbed, and at the mother’s fierce
and frantic love. Her eye} as it waned,
was ever on her child. Death was but
parting from her child, as life had been
but living for her child. The broken
heart was torn at last from all it had to
love. Time claimed the wreck which
years had bleached upon its shores, and
launched it into eternity. It had been
left to link itself to earth, and then was
snatched away. Death came not when she
had prayed and waited for it; came not
when she would have welcomed it; came
not when she was weary and heavy laden,
and would so gladly have laid her burden
down and obeyed the summons ; came not
when homeless, and friendless, and with
out a tie unsevered, she, with folded arms,
awaited it—but when her spirit had link
ed itself unto the spirit of her child ; when
she so clung to mortality—then, and not
till then, she was made immortal. Who
knows but that by such means as this,
Providence supplies the linke of an inter
j-k/iks viiaiii ;
ff iiu AUUWa UUt lb
as necessary for those in Heaven to have
treasure on earth, as it is for us to lay
ip a treasure in Heaven ? Who knows but
that He thus linketh mortality and immor
tality in his mysterious jvay ? And it may
be that the yearnings of our spirits below,
are but the feeble responses to the yearn
ings of kinded spirits above.
Because of our blindness we cannot see ;
but when He shall open our eyes, the
grand mysteries of the universe shall un
fold themselves, and all the dispensations
of His providence shall arrange themselves
in perfect hrrmony, and the perfection of
the wisdom at which we now blindly mur
mur shall astonish us, and fill us with a joy
unutterable. And surely the reknitting
of severed ties, and the reuniting of kin
dred spirits, forms no inconsiderable item
in a Heaven which we are told is Love.
Even Time reveals to us, in the course of
Jears, the perfect wisdom of many of His
aws at which we were once disposed to
rebel. Time shall show us more; and
when we shall have learned all Time can
teach, we are fitted for the first great rev
olution of eternity.
The little Pauline saw net the workings
of the Great Hand which stretches over
ns. She knew not that He chastened
whom He loved ; but she felt, with pain
ful intensity, the terrible mys’tery of death.
She saw the body from which the brave
spirit had flown, and in vain she asked
where was the broken heart, which, in the
egony of its departure, had so clung to
her? And we, like little Pauline, can
only echo, where ? We are but children
yet—children wandering on the shores of
Time—and falling, one by one, into the
dark waters rolling far away.
Strange to say, old Merriwether was
proud of the little girl thus left upon his
hands. He had almost learned to love her
in his odd way. He had enough percep
tion of ?he beautiful to mark the perfect
< ter was nine yeais of age.
: so wise as other girls of that age.
: little girls, much smaller than she, were
' being perched at pianos, and versed in the
; intricacies of French, and learned in the
[ mother tongue, our little oval-clieeked
; heroine could barely spell her own name.
• She was a proud little girl, and painfully
(conscious of her own inleriority. She
t proposed to the old man, who sat in his
< corner, that he should send her to school,
j and he, who was past his prime, and
; going onward beyond the power of gold,
t turned the mattter over in his own, mind,
< and consented to send the little girl to
< school.
\ Accordingly, we leave the cottage,
J which, since the death of its proud moth
< er, looks old and dim again, and follow
') our heroine to the Misses Frisbie’s fashicn
/ able boarding and day school for young
j lauies. 11 ere sue was entered cy ner ia
< ther, who bargained to pay all expenses in
( first-rate vegetables, for the immense table
(Of the Misses Frisbie’s seminary. Our
J proud heroine was not held in very high
J repute by the aristocratic ladies of this
< fashionable establishment. Pauline had
( a little oval face, purple black hair, and
\large, appealing, lustrous black eyes. She
< was naturally a thorough-bred little lady,
£ with dainty feet,'and-delicate, tapering
< hands. 'She was intelligent, active, tal
\ ented and wayward- Her mind was re
i markable for quickness of apprehension
( and energy. With one-half the pains be
(stowed upon more deserving pupils, she
‘ managed to distance all competitors. The
<, little creature, with her dark, glittering,
\ curtained eye, vras ambitious; too an.bi
< tious for a humble gardener’s daughter.
S She must excel—it was actually necessary
J to her happiness to excel in everything.
( Her perseverance was untiring and her
< grand energies never failed. This inor
') dinate ambition, this insatiate thirst for
< excellence, could not be put down. The
< slumbering giant of intellect was aroused
t and stimulated. It strode on and on,
( pushing up higher and higher, gaining
( ground every day—increasing in strength
; and capabilities—expanding under pres
\ sure, until Pauline, mother-like, grew
\ proud and supercilious, and haughty, be
; cause see naa earnea tee rignt to be so.
> • They taunted her, the grand ladies of
> this fashionable school, with the hovel in
' which she was raised, the uncouth father
; who deposited his instalment of vegeta
; bles every morning at the bach gate, the
’ old wagon and the old horse, "the snuff
colored coat, and greasy corduroys, but
I she bore up under it all, and sneered and
taunted in her turn.
The teacher should have interfered here.
The strong arm of authority should have
protected the lowly girl with her superb in
difference, and brave, stout heart. She
should have been defended from her ene
mies, the aristocrats of the school. But
teachers are all aristocrats, I believe.
They arc all of the first families, if one
is to credit their own words, consequent
ly, there can be no sympathy between a
teacher of the higher branches, and the
daughter of a gardener. But the lessons
thus gratuitously furnished to Pauline
were often of more value than lessons in
moral philosophy, and physics. Pauline,
In the the Wieses Ii-lbie's seminary,
one Miss Anna Hawkins v*as ihe leader of
the aristocrats—but the piebians had no
leader, inasmuch as they al l deserted their
ranks, and pushed and scrambled for a
place under the enemy’s \\ing: leaving
poor Pauline to fight her own battles. I
must do Pauline the justice to say that
she wielded the weapons with no had
Kowit happened that Miss Anna Haw
kins’ brother came on a visit to his sister,
and accidentally encountering our heroine
in the hall, fell desperately in love upon
> uiu uuu liivfu auu rauicu cuiiBiaiiuj
! about tbe beauty. This incensed
beauty. This incensed Miss
| Anna very much, and in the face of tLe
•whole school, she accused Pauline of
waylaying her brother, and darting unho
> ly and firebrand glances at him. The
> beauty tossed her bead, as beauties will do,
! declared tbe red-beaded fellow was not
J worthy of a glance from her eye, particu
; larly as there were so many beautiful gen
tlemen in town, with faultless moustaches,
> who wore dying for her glances. She fur
, ther insinuated sarcastically, that under
! such circumstances, she might lock at
• Ben Hawkins indeed? At this, the fat
\ Anna flew into a rage, and hated Pauline
! frcrn that day.
> About this time Miss Jane Tompkins’
\ respectable guardian, on whom Miss Jane
> herself had been casting sheep’s eyes,
> came to call on his ward, and he too saw
our friend Pauline. This staid respecta
, hie man went off into violent heroics, and
| wrote her a high flown epistle, declaring
j his passion, and complimenting her upon
her upon her excessive beauty, grace, and
modesty. This letter and the erratic con
duct of her guardian, abruptly broke off
Miss Jane’s first dream of love, and steeped
her young heart in wormwood and gall.
These trifling incidents, which scarcely
tinged the after life of my adorable hero
ine, are only mentioned in order to prove
to my readers the wonderful effects of her
beauty and grace. Indeed, I might have
been less prolix, and could have just as
easily established Pauline’s claims to both,
by only remarking tLat the ladies hated
her—that the gills in the seminary could
see nothing the least attractive in Pau
line—that they never failed to cut her,
and tnrn up their noses at her—and that
she was incessantly harrassed by the most
ill-favored of the school. My heroine
knew pretty well what this belligerent
treatment betokened. She exulted in the
wonderful beauty, to which every attack
from the enemy was so much unconscious
homage. Her wit, her talents, her wo
man’s cunning were called into requisition,
and not unfrequently her enemies w erein
gloricusly put to flight. The homage of
the men somewhat consoled her for the
malice of the women. Her triumphs were
in the parlor, and in the street, and once
a week at the theatre-—theirs cnly in the
schcol-rcem. Miss Frisbie had a beau
tiful little statuette of Psyche, which was
considered by that lady as a chef d’ceivre.
This statuette ornamented the mantle in
the front parlor, and was often admired by
connoisseurs. One morning a gentleman,
who was calling, and idly awaiting Miss
Ts love.
you’d tremble,
, r'vTth Lelies assemble,
For they have much more rabid grown,
Since Cupid's tricks are better known.
Pretty Psyche ! Venus hated
Charms, which Cupid highly rated,
Belles in Olympus talked, we say,
Just as they talk in our day.
Pretty Psyche ! you inspired
Love .'—and all Olympus fired;
The Goddesses all wept through fear,
That you to Cupid were too dear.
Pretty Psyche! Gods adored you
Cupid lost, and long deplored you,
At last they gave yon wings to fly
From mortal ills—to joys on high.
Glorious Psyche ! Love immortal 9
“Welcomed you at Heaven’s portall
Oh ! may your sisters here below
Have such a greeting when they go!
This hit of satire was handed to Miss
Frishie, by the gentleman, who remarked,
with a smile, that it was worth preserving,
“Worth making an example of!” said
Miss Frisbie, knitting her brows so vio
lently that her wig was seriously agitated
therebv. - ,
“ Do yon suspect the fair authoress ?”
the visitor inquired.
“ Suspect the fair authoress!” cried the
enraged lady; “ there is but one young
lady in my school vrho oould perpetrate
such a thing as this!”
“Humph!” was the satisfactory ejacu
lation of the gentleman, who was entirely
absorbed in the contemplation of a danger
ously beautitul creature, who, with her
hand upon the knob of the door, held it
ajar, and inclined her ear to catch the
words of her preceptress. The gentleman
understood her expressive pantomime, for,"
with an effort, he withdrew his eyes from
her superb figure, and fixed them de
murely upon Miss Frisbie, who, with glass
at eye, was intently perusing the rhymes.
“Yes, sir,” she repeated, “ there is
but one girl in my school who would do
such a thing as this!”
At this, the rosy face, at the door, un
derwent some wicked contortions.
“ And she shall be made an example
The ruby lips were wreathed into a de
risive “Oh!” and the beautiful figur*
Miss Frisbie stalked, like a wrathfil
spectre, into the schoolroom, and the most
demure and studious girl in that room was
Pauline Blake, who was so intently ab
sorbed in ‘Abercrombie’s Moral Feelings,’
tl at she was not conscious of the entrance'
of so august a personage.
“ Miss Blake, this is your property, I
believe,” said Miss Frisbie, suddenly con
fronting her, and extending the ominoua
“My property!” said Paulino, with a
stare, which Tallerand would have bought
up at any price.
“ Will you be kind enough to read it?”
said Miss Frisbie, sternly. Pauline ran
over the last sentence of her lesson in
‘ Moral Feelings,’ carefully turned a leaf,
and then opened the paper.
“Well,” she said, raising her eyes.
“ What do you think of it!” Mia*
Frisbie enquired.
“ It is not Lord Byron’s best,” said
Pauline carelessly, handing the paper back
and returning with avidity to her ‘Moral
Feelings.’ Miss Frisbie, who had bee*

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