Elizabeth-Town gazette. [volume] (Elizabeth-Town, N.J.) 1818-1821, 1821-02-13

| ing by the girls as they were milking the
cows, reading 10 them the feats Of Samp-
son; and, 10 short, harassiug every man
and woman about the hamtetfor audiences
% Sundays, my parents accompanied US
to the fields, and joined in our delightful
exercise.
| Time passed away, so also did our
youthful delights ! but other cares and
other pleasures awaited us. As we adj
vanced IN years and strength, We Quilted
the herding, and bore hand in the labours
of the farm. Mary, too, was often our
assistant. She and Duncan were nearly
fof an age--he was tall, comely and affabie !;
iaufi il Mary was not HE i,res.iest 81 sir! in
he parish, at least Duncan aud believed
her TO be so, which, with us, amounted
10 the same tliug. We often compared
The other girls in the parish with one an-
other, as to their beauty and accomplish
ments, but TO think of comparing any Of
them with Mary, was entirely out Of the
lguestion.-- was indeed the emblem Of
truth, simplicity and innocence, and If
there we're few more beautiful, there were
still fewer SO COED and amiable but still
as she advanced IN yeats, she grew fonder
and fonder Of being near Duncan and by
the time she was nineteen. was so deeply
| IN leSc, that il affected her manner. her
spirits and her health. At one time she
was gay aud frisky as kitten; she would
dance, sing, and laugh violently at the
most trivial incidents. At other times
she was silent and sad while lansuish-
ing soliness overspread her features, and
added greatly to her charms. The pas
sion was undoubtedly mutual between
them; but Duncan, either from sense
OF honor, or some other cause, never de-
clared himself farther on the subject, than
by the most respectful attention, and ten.
der assidniies. Hope and fear thus al
lternately swayed The heart of poor Ma
ry, and produced 10 her department thai
variety of affections, which could not
fail Of rendering the sentiments of her art
less bosom legible to the eye Of experience.
In this state, matters stood, when an
incident occurred which deranged our
happiness at once, and the time arrived
when The kindest and most affectionate lit
lile social band Of friends, tina. ever pant
ed TO meet the wishes Of each other we're
obliged to part.
About forty years ago, the flocks of
fsouthern sheep, which have since that
period inundated the Highlands, had not
found their way over the Grampian moun-
iains I: and the native flocks of that Sc
qneslered country we're SO scanty, that it
was found necessary to transport small
quantities Of wool annually TO the north,
TO furnish materials for clothing the inhab-
itants. During two months OF each SUN.
inner, the hill countries Of the Lowlands
were Inundated by hundreds of women FROM
the Highlands, who bartered small articles
| Of dress, and domestic import, for wool !;
these we're known by the appellatior, Of
norian' netties aud few nights passed,
during the wool season, that some of them
were not lodged at my fathers house. 1t
was from two OF these, that Duncan learn
| ed, one day, who and what he was that he
was the laird Of GIenelich's only son and
heir, and large sum had been offered to
ANY person that could discover him. Ny
parents certainly rejoiced 10 Duncan's good
fortune, and yet they we're disconsolate
| 10 parting with him. for he had long ago
become as a son of their own, and seri-
ously believe, that from the day they first
met, TO that OH which the two norJan' net
ties came to our house, they never once
entertained the idea Of parting. For my
part wished the netties had never beer
born, or that they had staid at their home
for the thoughts Of my being separate from
my dear friend made me sick at heart
All our feelings were, however, nothing
when compared with those of my sister
Mary. From the day that the two women
left our house, she was no more seen tC
smile; she had never yet divulged the
sentiments Of her heart TO any one, and
imagined her love for Duncan profound
secret-no,
She never told her love
| But let conceaiment, like worm i the bud
| Feed on her damask cheek--she pin'd in thought;
| And, with green and yellow melancholy,
| She sat, like patience monument,
Smiling at grief"
| Our social glee aud cheerfulness we're
now completely cIouded we sat down to
our meals, aud rose from them in silence
Of the few observations that passed, every
one seemed the progeny Of embarrassment
and discomfort, and our general remarks
we're strained and cold. One day at din
ner, after long and suIlen pause. my ia.
Their said, :" hope you do not intend ID
leave US very soon Duncan" " am think
ing Of going away tomorrow, sir" said
Duncan. The knife fell from my moth.
er's hand \; she looked him steadily in the
face for the space Of minute. Duncan
said she her Voice fanlterinr. and The tear