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way!'Twas sounded in every tolling of the to guide him back if he were a wanderer on bell, and was written upon the wall in characters earth. Oh! did his old, dark, repulsed thoughts of light, by every flash of the bonfires. Beside never return. her—for she could not sleep-little Mel stood The only thing which Eppen and Melanie weeping. At last her mother said to her, “Tell possessed in common now was ardent love for me all, child, again, that he said to you when he their lovely daughter. But little Mel did not aet left ?"

as the element which harmonises by its presence “Oh, ma, he came to me with tears in his discordant substances. And yet to see ber buseyes and kissed me over and over again; he said band's pure affection for his daughter, would he'd have to leave me then, but he'd come back sometimes inspire Melanie with a throbbing hope again.”

that perhaps some spark yet lingered there for Here the two sobbed together for a long time; her. Oh! how her heart fainted within ber at the little girl then continued,

the timid thought; gladly would she have died • Then I caught hold of his jacket and begged that instant to have known it true. But this she him not to leave me there in the dark woods, that could never know or believe save in a dream or I was afraid. I told a story there, ma, I was’nt a fever; for Andy's lips were sealed to her, as afraid for myself; he said he'd see that I was’nt much as were those of her son. In the day time hurt. Oh! ma, how I begged him not to leave he paused not in her presence unless to dandle me. I told him I knew he'd get lost, and then for an instant his lovely little daughter. I told him to think how distressed you and pa Melanie's grief was perpetual, poignant, aland I would be"—here the child sobbed violently. most inhuman. Her sole support was that which

“What did Andy say then, love ?" asked Me- she was taught when she first recollected the lanie.

Parsonage as her home, “ He doeth all things Why he cried as if his heart would break. well.” Deserted, neglected, and not relieved bg Then he jerked away from me, and ran off say- death! “it is well !" ing he'd come back by and by. And then, ma, I ran after him crying and calling out, “Come back Andy, please just come back, and tell me goodbye and kiss me once more-just once !"

V. Here the mother and daughter wept together long and loudly.

You might have mingled with all the peasantry * Oh, ma, I thought my heart would break of the old world in the days of pestilence and when Andy left me there, I thought if I could hunger, and in every cottage you would find a only call him back and bring him here to see Philamon and Baucis compared with the inyou once before he left, that I would be happy, mates of the Parsonage. No one would have bebut no he was gone !"

lieved that piety had ever taken up its abode Day now began to dawn in the east; and at there, or least of all that it had ever seen a merry intervals from then till about ten o'clock, all the wedding, for no where had every trace of bapvarious parties that had gone out to hunt after piness been so thoroughly erased from the threshthe lost child, returned from their fruitless search. old. Coldness and apathy gathered there, until There was a great deal of excitement in the vil- the surrounding grounds, uncultivated, sprang lage during the day. But the people talked, the forth in weeds and briars : and there too snakes mother wept, and the father sought in vain; were bred as emblems of the diabolical influence Andy could not be found.

which seemed to gloat over the whole. We have At last Eppen returned and locked himself in said that every trace of happiness had been erahis room to his own wild feelings; he cared for sed from the hearthstone at the Parsonage; so at none on earth that he knew of.

least it was destined to be, for the remaining idol Andy Eppen was colder now than ever to his was to be torn therefrom. The narrative is brief wife, because to his former coldness was added and sad, let us hasten through it. that of suspicion, which obscures the brightness Since the loss of her twin brother, little Mel of men's miuds as rust on steel. Did it never had never been the same lively child. She seloccur to him that one word of sympathy from dom spake except to her mother when alone, and Melanie, had he suffered himself to receive it, then she would dwell with rapture on the memowould have caused him more joy than the recov- ry of the loved one who had gone. She took ery of his son. Did it never come back upon but little interest in the things around her; and him, when he devoured his grief in privacy, that Melanie saw that her daughter was pining tohappiness could then be found in his own house, ward the tomb. Sometimes she was tempted to which would cause ineffable joy to his lost

son if pray that she might pine away as fast! The he were an angel, and would be the truest light physician advised a change of air for the little

girl, and she was taken to a watering-place ;/"write on her tomb,” said the philosopher of old scarcely however had she arrived and walked to Darius, “ the names of three who have not sufabout the green grounds, when she desired to re- fered adverse things, and I will raise thy wife from turn home. By her bedside at home her mother death!” Were that her only epitaph the tomb sat from day to day to see the flower fade gradu- would have remained unlettered. ally away from her home; whilst the wretched, With the afflicted pair it was not now as it had unweeping father, remained in his room, to his been in their former sufferings. Andy felt now own meditations. Of what sort they were God with new emotion the omnipotence of sympathy, knows!

it mingled with his grief a sacred pleasure; he The afternoon was very fair and pleasant when could now kneel by his fireside with his loved little Mel died. She turned from a refreshing Melanie, and pray for preparation to meet in sleep, about an hour before the sun had spent its heaven those who had gone before! Often they course, to ber mother and said cheerfully-- would walk to the grave of their loved child,

“ Ma kiss me and I'll tell you my dream." there would talk of her dying words, and won

Her mother kissed her fondly and then pressed der too if her dream had come true—if the two her to her bosom.

were twins in the better land as on earth. “I dreamed, ma, that I saw brother in a far One morning, Melanie repaired alone, as she off country. He looked lovelier and finer than often did in spring, to the grave yard; no sooner ever; he was not crying as when he left me in had she cast her eyes upon the tomb of her lost the woods; and there he wanted me to come one, than she started back pale with terror; on and live with him. He said that he could'nt live the stone in wreaths of rose buds and violets without me; and that if I'd come he'd love me, twined with ivy, were framed the words “ My ma-ma-don't cry, I told him I could'nt leave Sister!" A superstitious feeling crept over her, you. And when I told him so, he said that I'd for she could but believe that the angel form of have to come soon-don't cry, ma, he meant that her son had placed the words there. She hastily the doctor would send me there for my health. gathered up the flowers and carried them home; And then he told me that he would love me as she did not breathe, however, what she had seen; much in that bright and lovely country, as pa she was afraid to, she knew not why, and so kept loves you here. I'll be loved a great deal then, it in her own heart as something to shudder at. won't I ma ?”

New life dawned upon the Parsonage now; Melanie started and turned pale as she looked the weeds were quickly rooted from the garden, in the face of her dying child. Unperceived Ep- and flowers at the front smiled in acknowledgpen had been standing at the door looking on the ment of Melanie's tender care which did not negsame sight which angels looked on from above. lect the least thing in nature, that raised its head A stifled sob betrayed his presence-he could above the ground. It was her reward now to stand it no longer; the old dark thoughts of years have a smile and kiss of affection from her husgone by prevailed, and Andy wept on the neck band, on his departure or return; her happiness of his wife in the presence of his dying child ! was as if her youth were renewed, as if her wed

“Oh! he will love me that much in that land !', ding-day had returned, and she again sang

In an ecstacy of joy the fair girl clasped her hands; and so as the sinking sun faded from the “ Love not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay. chamber she breathed her last.

Hope's gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers, “God help me, Mel, I loved both before you,

Things that are born to fade and fall away

Ere they have blossomed for a few short hours !" yet you only are left to love me; oh! forgive"

There in the chamber of death as they wept, they could not utter their emotion; it were idle She did not look upon her Andy now, as you or for the pen to attempt it.

I would look upon him, with his face wrinkled Many wept next day as they laid the body of somewhat with care, and his head turning gray, the little girl to rest in the silent tomb, beneath as it had been since the loss of his son. Ah no! the green trees which sighed in the old church she saw him handsome and happy as be pressed yard. They could but weep to think of the heavy the ring upon her finger; and as for herself she sorrows that had fallen on the family at the Par- felt as young as he appeared. The two felt more sonage, and wondered too that it was so. In the and more dependent on each other as they went large congregation which surrounded the small on; they staid with each other more now, and grave, there was not one who did not recall some felt a mutual interest growing day by day bebereavement sustained at the hand of death ; the tween them. And at last if you could see Andy's brother, the sister, the parent, or the child lay be- unhappiness when Mel was not present, you neath the sod, and little Mel's grave was a fresh would have surely thought he was making up in opening to each wound. All have such wounds ; I loving her now for the time he had lost in apathy!

VI.

beauty, but when these have ceased, my affection

will not fade-no never !" In a neat room of a country house, not an Maria had started up and turned pale. She hundred miles from the village which has been fixed her eyes upon him but did not speak until the scene of the main portion of this narrative, they were dry, and her face as calm as ever. there sat two youthful persons with whom we “ I'd never thought it, Andy. When I first now have to do. About the girl there is a singu- met you a poor boy, seeking employment, I don't larly sweet expression of face; she is apparently know that I was curious for your history. You much more staid than the young man. But who confided it all to me, unbidden; and I could but is he? You may well ask that, for without an honor a design so noble, as I thought. If my introduction, none would ever recognise him as feelings had become interested in one who sacrithe same fine boy that in a period long passed, ficed the dearest relations of home and life for kissed his sister in the wood for the last time on that design-I did not know it until you told me earth; so grown and changed was Audy now, that you were about to leave! Go on now-I you would never have known him!

consent." “ Maria,” said he tearfully, “my object is ac- Andy's utterance was choked, and he could complished: that for which I gave up home and only press her hand to his lips in silence. Finally, all its endearments. I shall now return to bless, however, he arose and as he left the room said, if I may, their mutual love." Maria's face was “I shall now go to my room and thank my usually calm; indeed Andy had never seen her father above, Maria, that I ever met you!" in tears until now. “When I left home and wan- In the first stage-coach that afternoon, Andy dered to Mr. Limnef's—your father's—door, fe- started for the home from which he had been so vered and sick at heart; I thank God that you long estranged. It was his birth-day; and on the met me there! A slight resemblance to my little way he thought over the strange portion of bis hissister that's gone, inspired me more than any- tory which had occurred since nine years before thing else, probably, to open my heart to you. he had left his father's house ; how slowly had Oh! it is a memorable item in our history, Maria, they passed! And in their passing, Andy's mind, when we meet with those who count our feelings if not his body, had grown old, almost as much worthy of themselves, and so adopt them. And so as if they had been nineteen instead of nine. had I not met with your cordial sympathy and It was just dark when he arrived; and he enencouragement, Maria, oh, I fear I should have tered softly at the side-door of the house. And given up and returned to claim my love so dear- still more softly, save for his beating heart, he ly bought, or at least to have saved Melanie from kneeled at the parlour door, where about the the grave !"

same hour he had kneeled nine years ago, and Here both wept audibly; the agitated youth heard his father's first harsh word to his mother; pressed Maria's hand and continued—“over her the word which had decided him to leave ! Little resting-place, I am now going to mingle my tears thought Eppen, when he uttered it, of the bonwith those of my dear parents ; to tread again fires it would kindle-of the noise and the madthe same spot where with her bursting heart she ness; little did he dream that it was making his cried once more Andy—just once.' Oh, Maria! boy an alien, and bespeaking an early grave for had I gone to her then, I should never have left his loved little Melanie ! her"

The husband and wife had been talking over Maria had not uttered a word in all the time, the scenes of the past; for it was the birth-day but sat weeping. “I am going back now to try of those they had loved for a short time on earth. and bless the declining years of my parents with They had wondered again and again if both duty and affection; but how, oh! how shall I were now in the better land, unvisited by sick. leave you who have been to me so good and ness and sorrow. At last Melanie, pale and tremkind. Though I have laboured for my own sup- bling, spakeport in your father's family, yet I would have “ Forgive me, Andy, if I have kept anything performed double sooner than gone elsewhere from you. But I have somewhat to say, which and lost the support of your friendship and smile. I have often tried to speak, but could not. Some

“Shall I lose it now ? Shall my heart yearn strange spell seems to have kept me silent until in vain for the sympathy which it can find alone now. One very bright morning, shortly after in your own ? Listen, Maria, to my parting re- little Melanie's death, I happened to walk to the quest. May I one day come again and take you grave-yard alone—and oh! what think you met to the Parsonage to be my wife. Oh! say that my eyes ? there, on the tomb, were the letters you'll come, and fill the void which the grave of woven of flowers, . My Sister !'little Mel has made at our hearth-stone. I'll not Oh, Melanie! tell me if my son lives." only love you now in the days of your youth and " I know not. I know it was weak, but I half

believed then, and now, that they may have fal- that you would be again loved as you deserved len from the hand of my boy in heaven, with the oh, mother, these things supported me and cheerdew that covered them !"

ed me! “Oh, Melanie ! why did you not tell me"- “And now my work is accomplished, thank the anxious man rose—“Oh! if little Andy did God! but in the conflict little Melanie has gone"place those letters there"

Andy could scarcely speak—"perhaps she is “ I'll answer for that!" exclaimed the son rush- now looking on us from her bright home above. ing in the room.

But my dear parents, I shall supply her place “Oh God!” exclaimed Eppen, and in a mo- soon, as far as on earth it can be, with one who ment the three were joined in an embrace, which is lovely, and who will assist me in comforting told of a joy purer and deeper than we can de- your siuking days with love and care, one scribe.

who has been my only solace in all my trials “My noble boy come back!” sobbed the fa- since I left you ; and with whom I have visited ther.

my dear sister's grave, where, with flowers “Oh dear Andy—why could you leave us ?" wreathed by her hand, I wrote the words, “My said Melanie as soon as she could speak. Sister!'"

“Pardon me, my father, and I will tell you “What you have said, my son," said Eppen, all,” said he holding the hand of each.

as soon as Andy had finished, " is too true. God “God bless you—tell on,” cried the old man. knows I did not intend to treat my dear Melaine

“ In all the land there was no one with more with neglect, but I did so—and fearfully have I to make him happy at my age, than had I. You paid for it. It is by the deepest affliction that I both know well that my slightest wish was al- have been brought again to love her and you toways gratified; I was almost idolized by all. But gether, as I do now.” ob! from some source or other, a dreadful thought “ As the heavens are higher than the earth, so would often flit upon my mind, that the love are his ways higher than our ways, and his which you, my father, lavished upon me was at thoughts than ours !" said Melanie. the cost of that love to another whom I almost adored, and whose hand I now hold !"

Eppen groaned and bowed his head, as he said " tell on."

VII. “Forgive me, my dear father—but I saw that I had taken the place in your affection which was

CONCLUSION. due to my mother. Oh! the thought was a very terrible one for a boy of ten years to hold. I There was another wedding-party at the Parthought that if I was taken from you, it would sonage soon afterward: a wedding too, on as tell you your dependence on your once loved fair and bright a summer-night as ever any wedwife for happiness?

ding was on. Mrs. Nance did her share, too, to“ There was but one person to whom I told ward strewing the room and the dinner with roses my design; an old dear friend of yours, mother, and daisies. There never had been such a hapand one to whom your heart was open, it was py time in the village as when young Andy EpMrs. Nance; she endeavored to dissuade me, and pen was married to Maria Limnef. The sun has often begged me to return when I would go acknowledged it by sinking in the West without to her for information ; though she kept her prom- a cloud, and the moon agreed thereto by lighting ise not to betray my secret.

the folks to and fromthe Parsonage. The wind "I went to Mr. Lemnif's and labored for my likewise gave in its consent to the opinion, by support, there I have been ever since. Oh! how not howling or playing pranks with peoples' I have been tempted to return at times. When hats and bonnets, and other proper clothing. It beneath this roof that being for whom I would was a place for young girls to catch beaux, and have at any moment lain down my life-rest- for said beaux to become desperate--was this ed on her death-bed; when I knew that one wedding. How then, on the face of the earth, word from me would cheer up her sinking frame. could it be otherwise than merry and happy! Oh how I was tempted to return ! But no- -I Never was bride more admired than Maria would not have returned scarcely though it had Eppen; and every one said in a whisper how been to raise her into life."

like she was to little Mel that died. The obserThe three wept together in silence for a long vation caused a shade of sadness it is true; a time, the youth then continued :

thought of how happy she would be if she were “ The thought of wiping from your eyes those present, contradicted by a thought of how much tears of anguish which I have seen so often, happier she was being absent-but all this flitted when you knew it not, and the confidence I felt away with the music and the laughing, the kiss

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pany them.

ing and the eating. We hope the reader will pardon us for making use of this last word; but ob

MEMORY. servation has made manifest to us that people, at

TO M weddings, never think of living on love so much

G as brides' cakes; and that feasts of reason are the At times, o'er Melancholy's stormy tide, remotest of all sublunary feasts from their minds. A beauteous image doth serenely glide, Music, laughing, kissing and eating! Whew! As 'twere an Iris 'mid the clouds of Thought, what a coronet of brilliance for the brow of Hy

With splendor calm, like that by twilight brought

That lingers on the verge of parting light, men have we woven unconsciously; and thus,

And flings enchantment o'er the brow of Night! like Synesius, rendered that deity “concealed," Expression's fleeting radiance, from her eye, during supper-time at least, "by its own efful- Falls like a meteor through an autumn sky; gence !"

Her voice, though near, yet borne from far doth seen,The wind, as we have before intimated, did

The lonely echo that survives a dream!

'Tis Memory—that sweet minstrel of the Past, not take any mean advantage of the guests as Which wakes a softening spell in every blast, they went home after the wedding; on the con- Which sheds a rapture o'er the darkest hour, trary it snuffed the moon of all its cloudiness, for Like dewy starlight to the drooping flower, the better accommodation of the same. Now

And lends a tongue to Autumn's leaf, whose check

Portrays an eloquence no words can speak. we-the writer and the reader-cannot any more

When fairy visions fade beneath the blight follow the folks to their respective mansions Of thy bleak eye, austere Philosophy, from the Parsonage, than we could twenty odd Before whose wand must fall, the veil so bright, years ago, when the first wedding took place at That hides the blank of cold reality

When Pride must view, with callous glance, the hopes, the same place. And so, just for the sake of old

The fondest schemes of happiness destroyed, acquaintance, let us return with Mr. and Mrs.

As year by year, each crumbling fragment drops Nance. We have the greatest conceivable af- From Time's dull wreck, into Oblivion's void, fection for them, and always have had, and always 'Tis then we muse, unconscious, on the hours, will; and that alone would induce us to accom

When seemed existence but a path of flowers,

Wherein we viewed, with Nature's artless eye, Mrs. Nance said this was a wedding-we are

No specious hues to grace Depravity;

No sophistry, forsooth, superb and vain, serious in the assertion—at least it was what she Which robs the soul to overload the brain! called a wedding. In these days of innovation, Stagnates along the garden of the heart, it is important to know the old nomenclature,

And chokes its fountains with the mire of art; and we have therefore stated this fact of Mrs.

Corruption's senseless pomp, nor Flattery's sinile,

Soft robe of vice refined and splendid guile; Nance. Mr. Nance assented.

No scowl of Bigotry, nor Grandeur's sneer, “ Here," said Mrs. N., "you and I get ready, The winter of whose face would freeze a tear : go to the wedding, come back again without any 'Tis then that boyhood's fleeting light appears colds in our heads."

An ignis fatuus in the mist of years, “Or tears in our eyes," suggested Nance.

A dwindling meteor, far off, yet sublime

A star on the horizon edge of Time ! "No half frozen Hornets to take care of.”

MARCIOS. “Nor sleep lost."

None at all-none whatever.” Mrs. Nance waved both hands, “and then William, look upon that carpet-do you see any crane on that whole THE ENGLISH LITERATI." carpet disfigured ?" Mr. Nance saw none, though he put on his

Perhaps a greater interest attaches to the lives spectacles to it.

of successful authors than any other class of dis“Mark me. William, when Andy Eppen and tinguished persons. We hear of great deeds of Maria grow old, they will not have to look back arms, and we feel a natural desire to see the noat bonfires, and children running off and dying ble captain who has achieved them—the man early; and what will you inquire then, William, who has seemed to bear a charmed life amid the if you are alive?"

rage of embattled hosts and the desolation of How came it so ?" said Mr. N., quietly. iron tempest. But we have no inordinate wish The Qui fit Mæcenas was answered at last, by to be made acquainted with him in private

, to Mrs. N. “Because they got married like Chris- see him apart from the great pageant wherein he tian people, in the season of green trees, and moves, as he is seen by his valet, and to hear flowers, and birds. When,” continued she vehe- the ordinary staple of his conversation. We mently, “there's no snow to cover and hide peo- stand before a picture or a statue, as in an atples' paths, nor wind nor weather to give them their deaths !!!

* The Living Authors of England, by Thomas Powell,

New York: D. Appleton & Co., 200 Broadway: Phile“Umph!” assented Nance.

delphia : George S. Appleton, 164 Chesnut Street, 1819.

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