Northern star, and Warren and Bristol gazette. [volume] (Warren [R.I.]) 1826-1830, 1826-11-25

should you not be joyful Has not III
}. flair flower escaped the caterpillar
, Nay, look not so wildly rest on thi
!, couch come. your hand, my nobl
> freud
Governour AIverdo. touch me not :
, aim no looge, your friend. but you
prisoner The hearts blood Of tn
sedooer is on my person, and humaI
law must be satisfied. come for tn,
purpose of giving myselfup 10 jusiic,
and bring with me a convincing proc
ofmy guilt Of my rashness. Here
he drew from hi, breast the blood,
frill, and flung il on the floor at the fee
Of his friend.
The chief officer, at FIRST. knew no'
what to do. He could and he did fee
like man and father, but he was a
ware he held an important Office, and
that his honour depended on the pro.
per fuliIment Of il. Drearden's body
would body would be soon discovered.
lie saw no other cosrse-he called a
guard Of soldiers and with tears in his
honest eyes, resigned Mr.. Raimonde in-
to their hands. as prisoner, ~
The law soon gave its dreadful SEN
tence, but The Corregidor knew the
convicted father had welded his sword
in his cuuntry's battles, and command.
Ell that a soldiers death should await
him.
The awful hour came-the file OF
nuskets were ready. Mr.. Raimonde
did not avoid their aim, or shrink one
hairs breadth. Ny wife, my sainted
wife. come, | come ! he cIied-the
deadly tubes did their work, and the
form which the moment before knew a
living principle, fell into the vcrdure a
thing of nought. ~
Aud did MT death stop here ? Had
uot misery sufficiently filed her urn ?
No. the insatiate archer, sometimes
knows not when he is glulted. and mis-
cry loves always to make her gleanings
perfect. Where is poor Rose Raimonde
once the pride and ornament Of the
vale of vines I?
She found, sad girl, how true it is,
that |" the once fallen woman must for
ever Gall !" Those who formerly court
ed now ayoidedher. A woman never
forgives woman's shame. Rose Raj
monde found she could only bury her
lgriefs in her own desolate cottage, or
beneath the lattice work under the
vines. Ii was in the latter place she
suffered a premature illness, Caused by
her grief Of mind J, and when she was
aware that The fruit Of her unhappy in.
tercourse with Dreardcn had died be.
fore its birth, a "spotless child Of sin, I"
she felt the Circumstance as a blessing
from heaven. With her own hands
she formed its little grave, and whilst
her tears fill on the sdnken face Of the
innocent as she looked npon it extends.
ed in its black COT, she covered the spot
with the brightest sods she could find
beneath the pomegranite tree.
After this miserable time, Roses
mind. that greatest treasure aud beauty
Of the body- appeared. at times, to
have left its mansion. Ofen was she
seen moving rapidly amonss. the vine-
yards, even when "lhe centinel stars
kept their watch in ihe sky" often
heard to strike sweet prelude on her
hageolet, and to sing ihe song which
the Spanish lady had taught her in hap
pier hours. The unfortunate fair one
was the very prototype ofS,erne's Poor
Maria.
One day, when winter had tipped
the tops of the mountains with glitter.
ing snow, vine dresser. passing near
the poinegranite tree, saw the form Of
Rose Ramonde, extended beneath rs
branches. He approached her face
wore deaths livery, and thin Grim
son line stained her blanched lips her
hands glasped q lock of hair, which was
ted with silken snooze, and had
worked upon 1t the word " "ARTHuR !"
aud by her side was q scrap Of paper,
upon which the hapess maiden had in
.cribed these lines
"Do not hurry me in the same grave
with Arthur Drearden."
a. dare not sleep in the tomb Of my
father"
my child will not shudder if his
poor mother be laid beside him, in the
Yale OF the vines"
We have seen it urged frequently