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His companion smiled almost joyously, and same which now cluster in such profusion amid went quieily about her household duties.
the quiet haunts to which her thonghts had wanWeeks passed away, and still that hollow cough dered back, so that it seemed her only who was was heard even more frequently than before ; changed. while the weak frame, which it so shook and A branch of fragrant honeysuckle was dancing tortured, wasted to a mere shadow; but the invalid in the fresh wind, and seemed every now and then had got used to the sound, and slept through it, to be playfully wooing her to inhale its odour, and so that she did not much care, for her greatest be of good cheer, for the warm glad summer had trouble had always been the fear of disturbing come again ; and as the girl put it back with her him, who every day grew feebler and feebler, so thin wasted hand, her pale lips moved and half that the neighbours used to wonder among them- involuntarily gave utterance to some old melody selves which would pass away first, the old man, loved years ago, and brought back, as it were, by or his gentle and devoted nurse. As we have enchantment. We all know how deep a spell may before said, Mr. Pemberton was blind, and when lay in a simple flower to conjure up the past. he called out in the middle of the night for water That honeysuckle might have been a cherished to cool his parched lips, and Mary brought it with thing in by-gone days. Low and broken as the a kind word and a cheerful voice, how was he sound was, it awoke the old man, although he to guess of the wasting fever which burot in her thought at first that it must be a dream, and spoke own veins-of the broken slumber into which she not until it died away at length in bitter weeping. might have just fallen, for the first time for many At the first sound of his voice, Mary sprang to nights,.when she never'uttered a complaint. Some the bedside; heaven pardon her, if she rejoiced for times he would say :
a moment that he was blind ! Mr. Pemberton had “I hope I did not disturb you, Mary, but my raised himself up in his bed, his head bent eagerly throat seemed on fire,” when her ready reply forward, and his lips moving fast and convulsively. always was—
“ Who was it sang but now ?" be questioned a “Oh no, I was not asleep, and it sounds little wildly. cheerful to hear your voice in the night, for it seems “ I am sorry I disturbed you," began his comso long and lonely else." And when he did not panion timidly. call, she used to fear he was ill, and creep out of “Ah! was it you ? Nurse, who taught you her warm bed a dozen times to listen if he that song ?" breathed.
“ My mother." At length came the wished-for spring, when “ And she is dead, you have often told me so; the invalid dreams of the long promised walk but thy father, girl?-why do you weep? Oh, beneath the fresh air of heaven, and wakes smiling God, if it should be Rhoda l-It was her songto see the early sunlight. When the dying girl Poor Rhoda !” who bas waited wearily for the hour of her release, “ Father!” exclaimed his companion, clinging lists up her drooping head and prays to be spared about his neck; and the old man parted the grey yet a little longer. It seems hard to pass away when hair upon her still youthful brow, and kissed it all things look so bright and joyous. When the repeatedly with a bewildered air. poor, believing that the worst is past, look hope- “ Poor Rhoda!" repeated be at length. fully forward to the sweet summer time, and little “ No, no, rich now-rich in thy restored affecchildren escaping from their narrow homes, run tion." shouting for very glee in search of the early flowers.
" And he?" When the poet's heart is full to overflowing, and a “ Will never come between me and thy love voice bursts forth, as if by enchantment, finding an again, he is gone !" echo in a thousand gladsome hearts—a voice now “ Heaven forgive me !" said the old man, “I passed away, save in memory, for ever.
have been too harsh."
“ No, indeed, my punishment was a bitter one, “I come! I come! ye have called me long- but I deserved it all.' I should have remembered
I come o'er the mountains with light and song ! | that I was your only child. Since I left you, Ye may trace my steps o'er the wakening earth, Father, I have known want and hunger; I have By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, seen those I love die away one by one ; but that By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass, terrible curse was harder to bear than all the By the green leaves opening as I pass.”
“My poor child ! and I not to know that dear But to our tale. It was on one of these bright voice ; and yet there was something in the cough, spring mornings, redolent of sunshine and flowers, your sainted mother's cough, which sounded fearthat Mary Aung open the casement of their little fully familiar. We must get rid of that now; cottage, and leant languidly out, until there gra- you shall not toil as you have done of late, but dually stole a tranquil and subdued lustre to her only sit by me and relate all your troubles, until I sunken eyes, a warm flush to her hollow cheeks, bate myself as their cause; and I will tell you how and she even smiled, as though a tide of sweet much I missed you—and how, even with the harsh remembrances were rushing through her heart. word upon my lips, the blessing was in my heart She was thinking, perhaps, of the merry spring for my poor Rhoda." days which had come and gone when she was a “ Dear Father! Ah! how often I have longed child; how she used to go with her companions 10 utter that name, but dared not, lest you should seeking for primroses and violets, others, yet the send me from you. How. I have prayed with
MARCH OF THE TEMPERANCE MEN AT CARRICKMACROSS.
tears in the long winter nights not to be taken | heavily she sleeps—and the old man too, and yet away, until I had received your forgiveness, and their eyes are open-merciful heaven if they should my supplications were not listed up in vain ; and be dead! Both dead, and help so near!" And yet it is hard to die just now, when I had so much the girl sunk upon her knees, and lifted up her to tell you !"
trembling hands in prayer. “ Hush, my beloved one!" said the old man, It was very terrible, and yet there was comfort in pressing his lips to the cold cheek which rested the bright smile, which even in death illuminated against his ; " it is for the aged and bedridden, the pale face of poor Rhoda ; and Lucy knew by such as I, 10 talk of death. And yet even I have it that she had died happy, and forgiven. But dared to hope to live a little longer, now that you the history of the weary years that had intervened are come back to me again. I know I shall be a before the wanderer's return to her birthplace, was great trouble to you, but you will not mind that buried with her. will you? And when summer comes, who knows but I may be well enough to sit in the cottage
LINES porch, with you at my feet, as in old times, while
ON THE MARCI OF THE TEMPERANCE MEN AT you sang to me all my favourite airs. And though I shall not be able to see the flowers, and the golden sunsets any more, I can remember just how they used to look at that hour. “ Music was heard in the distance; the road Rhoda, I was very proud of you, and when the was seen, far as the eye could reach, filled with suplight fell upon your young brow like a glory, dense masses of human beings; call them procesused to liken you to one of the angels in the altar- sions if you will, preceded by bands of music, piece at St. John's church, and I never dared to banners, &c. go to that church after--after you left me. But "I seemed to see John the Baptist preparing you are cold--so cold . I think the casement a pathway through the wilderness for the coming must be open. Rhoda l-my child !--Oh, if I of the holiest; for like unto his, is this mission of could see you now !”
temperance. Clean senses are fitting vessels for The poor girl made an effort to move her pale pure affections and lofty thoughts. lips, and to smile upon him, forgetting he was
MARIA CHILD. blind; and so the weary spirit passed away for ever. While the old man went on talking until the A sound of music on the wind, silence fell upon his heart with a strange fear, and Of footfalls, firm and free; he bent down towards the sweet face which still
A show of banners, Alinging wide rested on bis bosom, and spoke no more.
Their shining blazonry. “ I am sure,” said the compassionate Lucy, that evening, as she sat in her comfortable little cham
What comes an army on its path ber, for from living so much alone she had got
For the crimson fields of war ? quite into the habit of talking to herself; “I am
A host returned from conquering-sure that it is not good for Mr. Pemberton, or his
A victor on his car ? nurse either, to have the window open at this hour;
Not these-yet are they conqu’rors, crown'd and she with her terrible cough. Oh! how I With trophies far more bright wish she would not be quite so shy and reserved.
Than the red spoils of battle fields, I am sure my heart yearns to her, poor thing! Their
and their blight. How sweetly she smiled this morning when I passed the house, the first time I have ever seen her They have brought back to lonely hearths, smile, and yet her look seemed familiar too. Surely
Not love words from the dead; she could not be angry if I were just to step over
Nor tokens, prest with dying hands, and offer to sit up with the old man for once, and
Where life's rich fount was shed ; a night's rest would do her a world of good.
But old affections, hidden deep At any rate, I will warn her how wrong it is to sit with the casement open at this hour.”
In the mole-heap heav'd by time,
And welling up, like living springs, And crossing the lane she knocked gently at the cottage door, but receiving no answer, after
With a soft, heart-moving chime. waiting a few moments, lifted up the latch and See where they come, a mighty host ! entered. It was a bright moonlight night, and the
Nor sword nor lance is there; fresh breeze from the open window rustled among But wands, with peaceful flowers entwind, the neat white bed-curtains, and waved to and fro And laurel boughs they bear. the damp curls upon the pale, upraised face of the nurse. Lucy thought she was asleep.
And for proud shouts of high acclaim, “ Poor thing ! how tired she must have been,"
Exulting triumph-notes, said she, “and what quantities of hair !"--for the
The blessing of a thousand homes widow's cap had fallen off. “ It is sad to see
Upon their glad way floats; grey hairs on a young head! But surely-surely And follows on their holy march I should remember that face, changed and faded Their crusade pure and high, as it is? Can it be, that Rhoda Pemberton has ing our earthly homes to bear been with us so long, and we knew her not?- The bright Millennium sky. dear-kind-merry-hearted Rhoda ! But how
PEN AND INK SKETCHES.
“ May 20th, 18-, Richmond.
“ You are the only being in Dalton who doubted No. IV.
my guilt, and in return for the balın your guileless
remarks gave to my wounded spirit, I am going Mr Visit to RICHMOND-Part II.
to inflict upon you the penance of reading my unfortunate history-a history I had neither strength nor courage personally to relale: and yet now,
overwhelmed as I am in recalling the agonising I lost no time in completing Mrs. Corrie's like
scenes of the past, I am buoyed with the hope, ness, and on the third morning from my last inter that by the mysterious ways of the Almighty, you view I was with anxious thoughts ringing the may one day become the instrument of clearing my gale-bell at Downe House.
fame in the eyes of my beloved child. I have, "My mistress is very ill,” said the domestic, therefore, left instructions in my will, of the best shaking her head," and cannot see eren you; but
manner of forwarding to that child the two miniashe begged me to ask your London address, as
tures I entrust to your care. she wishes to write as soon as she is able ; it was with difficulty she could direct this note, which she requested me to give to you when you called.” “ In the village of Brook Mead, not many miles
I left the miniature with the faithful attendant, from Dalton, you will probably have seen an oldand returned to my lodgings full of inquietude; fashioned white house, with its quaint and sloping although Mrs. Corrie's letter contained a bank note, garden, surrounded by a moat, over which swings double the amount of my price, and which at any a ponderous drawbridge. It was from that spot I other time would have made my heart leap with date my first recollections of existence, as the joy.
spoiled orphan pet of a maiden aunt, who had long On the evening of that day I was on my road outlived her youth and beauty, and who, in the to town, having received information from my simplicity of her heart, would overwhelm me with maid, that I was required at home to paint two caresses and sweetmeats whenever it had been her children, and that the lady who had brought them painful duty to punish any of my childish faults had appointed to be with me the following morning for a few minutes. Children are excellent judges at twelve o'clock.
of character ; and I soon found out the way to Punctual to the hour, my expected visitors ar- escape punishment by pretending to refuse all rived ; a young widow, whose mournful looks attempts at reconciliation, until my aunt's patience contrasted sadly with the bright ones of her little became exhausted in her vain endeavours to coax boy and girl. The lady did not give me her name, but said she was recommended 10 me by an Indian suffered to do whatever I pleased : so passed the
me to accept her peace-offerings. At length I was family, and she wished to have the children painted first period of my childhood ; and with all my the size of the bracelet likeness she wore on her faults, I was fond of knowledge, and read with
It was fortunate for my pencil that my little eagerness any books that came in my way, some, sitters possessed the beauty of their mother; for Ifar beyond the comprehension of my early years, never gazed upon a more distrustful and mean ex- for I had but a limited range, the saded library pression than was depicted in the lineaments of containing but few readable volumes. My aunt ibeir father's miniature. In the course of con- was proud of hearing me read aloud, and though versation, I learned he had died on his passage to often the subject proved even more puzzling to her England, whither he was accompanied by nis than 10 me, still my pronunciation of hard family.
words, without once stopping to spell them, was The children were most unnianageable; pulling such a marvel in the old lady's eyes, that she down my books, clambering up the chairs, and looked upon me as a prodigy of learning. Then I strewing the carpet with my drawings, alike heed could knit stockings' ten times faster than she less of my entreaties or the remonstrances of their could, and copy in tent-stitch the moth-eaten gentle parent.
tapestry of our bed-rooin with an accuracy that to ' They will soon be tamed," said I, in reply to her seemed like magic. In fact, my aunt and I the lady's apologies.
daily grew more and more companionable. I, English nursemaids are usually more tyrants imiiating the tone and manners of maturer age; than slaves to their young charge; for, in this and she, descending to second childhood. Hercountry, a child is oftener taught more obedience self and my nurse were my only associates, my to domestics than to their parents.
will with them was law, and both gaily joined in I made the sitting as short as possible, for I was all the vagaries of my little head. Alike joyous sad and weary, with thoughts full of my Rich- was every season : winter had no dreariness-it mond adventure. And when, the next morning, I was to me full of the life and light of summer ; received by a coach, a packet, it was with feelings but a heavy cloud rose above me, which was soon of intense interest I tore it open-it contained the to darken all my future prospects. miniature I had just finished of Mrs. Corrie, and “ An adventurer arrived in Brook mead; he was the one painted of her when she was a girl : a about forty years of age: from whence he came lovelier face was never seen.
accom- none knew, and few cared to inquire, whilst they panied by several sheets of closely written paper, listened to his skill on the guitar: our servants were the contents of whicb were as follows:
full of his fame, and one summer's evening he
stood upon the drawbridge and sang a serenade. for in my wretched home nothing but stripes and I clapped my hands with delight, and dragged my harsh words awaited me. Fortunately, my preaunt towards the spot where he was singing. He sence had become so intolerable to my aunt as well knew well how to turn to advantage all things that as to my uncle, that on returning to the school, my crossed his path, and before we separated he i governess received instructions to retain me during inveigled my aunt to give him an invitation for the all future holidays. My eyes sparkled with pleafollowing day. Step by step the acquaintance sure at her consenting to this arrangement, and gained ground, until it increased to an intimacy, from that hour I became the especial favourite of and duis seemed those evenings which he did not Mrs. Foxall as well as of the elder girls. After spend at the old white house. He not only sang our lessons were learned, we used to crowd round to us, but read novels, in which he personated the the blazing fire of a winter's evening, where I bero so admirably, that ere the first leaf of autumn would relate to eager listeners the legends from had fallen to the earth, my maiden aunt, at the the old books I had read at home. Then came age of sixty-five, had bestowed her hand and for the thick slice of bread-and-butler--the marveltune upon this daring minstrel. At first I was lous appetite with which it was devoured-the delighted with the novelty of having an uncle, but family prayers—the maternal kiss of our beloved gradually I was deprived of all my accustomed governess, followed by the unbroken sleep, which indulgencies. My aunt seemed to grow every gave health to our bodies and vigour to our mindş. hour more sorrowful-her smiles were gone; her “Year passed on year, and I went no more to form, hitherto so upright for her years, became my aunt's. She rarely paid me a visit, and scarcely beni : it was evident she was suffering acutely ever wrote. How often have my eyes overflowed from her folly. She scarcely dared to notice me with tears, when Mrs. Foxall announced letters to with her usual affection when her husband was her pupils ! how I envied their sacred emotion, as present, but he spent great part of his days at a they used to hurry out of the school-room to read neighbouring public-house, where he suffered their treasures by themselves! Then the boxes of coarse jests to be passed upon his wife's credulity cakes and tarts that were constantly arriving, the and his own good luck. On such occasions he feastings divided with all, and frequently the largest would return home brutalised by the effectsofintem- share given to me, because I had nothing to give perance, and if he found me up, send me, with an in return. I would fain linger over those brightest oath or a blow, broken-hearted lo my chamber, scenes of my life, where human nature stood out where, in the arms of my loving nurse, I sobbed in such beautiful relief; but soon was that sunny myself to sleep. Her sympathy was not long world shut out to me for ever. allowed me, for she and the rest of the servants “ There was an old lady in Dalton, a Mrs. were changed for others, and my tyrant uncle Stukely, who made a point of inviting all the reigned supreme. No wonder that my high spirit young people of our school to drink tea on her was subdued. I became shy and timid as a hare, lawn once in the summer : it was my misfortune was laughed and sneered at by the new domestics, 10 attract ber attention, and when she learned my and even thought an interloper and a disturber of history, she was particularly attentive to me, and peace by my once kind aunt—so completely did eventually invited me to stay at her house the her husband hold her mind in thrall; and in one greater part of the Christmas holidays. Whilst on of their daily bickerings, it was agreed that I should my visit, one of the winter balls took place, and be removed from their presence, and placed for a Mrs. Stukely suddenly determined on iaking me time at some cheap establishment at Dalton. to it. I was overcome with delight at the proMy entrance into Mrs. Foxall's school-room was posal, till I remembered my best dress was only another epoch in my life,--replete for a time with of thick cambric muslin. fresh mortifications, for the girls laughed at the “Never mind,' said my kind hostess, as she odd fashion of my dress, called my shyness sly- saw my joy changed to sorrow,' these long black ness, and ludicrously imitated the stiff curtsey tresses of your's will amply compensate for your and starched manners of my old aunt when their want of finery; why, half ihe girls would gladly governess had introduced her to my future com- exchange their gauze robes for such an ornament panions. Goaded by these perpetual stings, the as nature has given you, and here is a broad purwilfulness of my nature returned, and book and ple sash I have brought you, and rely on an old stools were Aung by me at the heads of the scof. woman's judgment when she ventures 10 prophesy fers: then followed complaints of my violent that you will look fairer than any there.' conduct, succeeded by the regular routine of “All this was very flattering, but the fortitude of punishments--a long list of dictionary words to sixteen was scarcely strong enough to bear the idea learn, with their meaning, by heart-a page from of being the most shabbily dressed young person scripture, or a piece from the speaker, to recite in in the assembly. And, when that night I entered a given time. But these tasks were positive plea- the brilliantly lighted room, my cheeks glowed sures, so quick was my memory; and when, in a more with shame than pleasure, as I contrasted few weeks I proudly stood the foremost of the my appearance with those around me; and I first-class, and assisted my seniors in their lessons, gladly sheltered myself from observation behind the girls ceased to sneer at my aunt, or quiz the the chair of Mrs. Stukely, as she sat down in a fashion of my long-waisted frock; but it was by snug corner to make one at the whist table, where, still slower degrees that I won the love of the in a few moments, she became so absorbed as mistress of the establishment. My first vacation entirely to forget 1 was under her care. With arrived, bringing to all but me joyful anticipations, envious looks I watched the smiling faces of the young girls as their respective partners led them James Gordon had formed for Miss Corrie, a out to dance. I heard the kind inquiries made mere child and a nobody. Mrs. Stukely was asfrom each to cach of friends and kindred in the tonished, and for once regretted her love of play promenade which succeeded; and my heart had so blinded her to the danger which was comibrobbed with anguish as I bitterly felt that I of ing on; so, by the advice of the old maid, I was all that laughing crowd was alone unthought of. sent back that very night to Mrs. Foxall's, on the
" was in the middle of a cotillion which pre- plea that other visitors would unexpectedly arrive ceded the preparations for tea and coffee, that a and occupy my room. I was both puzzled and tall and elegant looking man entered the room, hurt at the cool manner in which the hitherto kind and after carelessly surveying the dancers for a Mrs. Stukely took leave of me. few minutes, he advanced to the card-table.
“My romantic school-fellows, when I related to “Ah, James,' said Mrs. Stukely, addressing them my adventures, read the true meaning, him, whilst she was dealing out the pack, • I “Ah, Cecile ! Cecile !' said one,' Mr. James scarcely expected you to-night; but now you are Gordon, the great lawyer, is in love with you, and here, I wish you would do me a favour.'
the spiteful old aunt is jealous, and I should'nt “ Most gladly. What is it, aunt?' said the wouder if he sends you a declaration next Valengentleman.
tine's day.' “ 'I want you to dance with this poor child, a «« • It has come already,' cried another, as the protogèe of mine ; I believe she has not had a postman knocked at the street door, and I will bet partner to night,' replied Mrs. Stukely.
six tartlets it is a letter for Miss Corrie.' “That must be your fault, aunt,' quickly ex- “ The merriment of the girls had scarcely subclaimed her nephew ; ' I suspect you have forgot- sided, when Mrs Foxall, with a very grave face, ten to introduce her.'
entered the room. "But 100 true, dear James; so atone for my “ • I have an unexpected communication to make neglect, and do the amiable. You know when to you, my dear child,' said my governess, adonce I am at my favourite pastime I forget the dressing me. I turned very red, and the girls whole world. My dear Miss Corrie, this is my looked at each other. I trust,' added Mrs. nephew, Mr. James Gordon, who I am sure will Foxall, I have taught you to bear all changes of be kind enough to dance with you.'
fortune with calmness. Your poor aunt is very ««« Rather say, aunt, if the young lady will ill,-dying, perhaps, and wishes to see you imhonour me so far,' replied the gentleman, as he mediately, and it is my duty to see her request politely offered me his arm.
complied with ; a carriage is already ordered, “Frightened as a caged bird, I accepted it with and 'I shall accompany you home, in the hope trembling, and did not dare meet bis gaze. we may arrive in time to see justice done to your
“6 Are you ill,' said my companion, observing merits. my trepidation, or do you dislike to dance?' “ Fast as the horses rattled over the creaking
"Oh, no! I am so fond of it,' I quickly re. drawbridge, the spark of life had fled before we plied; but, and I hesitated as I looked down on entered the house. In silence the servants ushered my plain attire, but I do not look as if I belonged us into the chamber of death; my uncle was pacing to yonder circle.
the room with rapid strides, but the scene had *s. Indeed, you do not,' answered Mr. Gordon, only produced a passing emotion, and he stifly emphatically, and I am proud of the privilege of bowed to Mrs. Foxall without noticing me. introducing such a partner amongst ihem : but remained unwelcome guests till after the funeral, see, the dance is ended; so for the present you when the will, which was of recent date, was read, must accept my attentions at the tea-table.' in which my uncle was named as the sole legatee.
“ In less than an hour all things in that ball-room In reply to Mrs. Foxall's remonstrances, he urged seemed changed by the wand of a fairy. A gentle that I had no claim upon him, but out of respect voice was whispering words of praise in my ear, to his wife's memory, he would pay for my eduwith a sweetness that was never heard before by cation three months longer, when, like thousands me; and when he made me promise I would ac- of other young women, I must get my living by cept no other partner but himself, for that evening, my talents. I told him, in the innocence of iny thoughts, that *«•She shall never want a home,' exclaimed my I was but too gratified for the enjoyment he had kind governess, 'whilst I have one to offer ;' and given me, to wish to change him for any other with feelings of sorrow and indignation we deThat meeting was only the beginning of a succes- parted from Brookmead. sion of equally delightful ones ; and whilst Mrs. “On reaching Dalton, the servant informed her Stukely was engaged with her little home parties mistress that Mr. James Gordon was anxiously at whist, Mr. Gordon took every opportunity of awaiting to see her in the drawing-room. I was remaining at my side and devoting every minute therefore dismissed to my chamber, and the purto my amusement and improvement; whilst I port of his visit remained long a secret to me, and was both grateful and proud that a man so many I saw no more of him for months, except at the years my senior, should take so much trouble church-gate on Sundays, when he always made a about one inexperienced like myself. But my visit point of shaking hands with Mrs. Foxall. One was suddenly cut short by the interference of a Sabbath-day he was not there, and the news friend of Mrs. Stukely's, who called one morning reached us the next moruing that he was dangerto condole with my hostess on the attachment, ously ill of a fever. My governess looked fidgetty which was the talk of the town, that the rich Mr. and uneasy, and I went through the usual routine