Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1827-10-31

truly horrible room: nor was the long,
passage on the other side the little stairs
whit less terrible; this and the gallery
I believed to be haunted, as devoutly as
| credited the articles Of my christian
faith; nay, with far moro probability
might the latter have been subjected to
such suspicion, hung round as it was
with old black family portraits, resemb-
ling Of themselves spectres from Hades.
These, like so many fiends, werc now
grinning upon me; deeper and deeper fell!
the shades ofevening; the wild autumnaI
wind whstled shri!l amid the plantation
that surrounded the Old House; the
branches Of many trees groaned, and
creaked in the furious blast; now few
struggling twigs tapped against the goth
ic windows, and now a rush Of sudden
rain swept down their colored panes. 1t
was an hour for sweet and solemn mem
orics; nor were such slow to visit my
musing spirit; it was then that all events
of Joy and sorrow, and all years that had
fed since last my childhood hallowod
this spot, seemed crowded into the brief
space of a moment; and it was then that
| asked myseli-'my kinsmen, the com
panions OF fmy early days, where are they |?
And this spot, that once my Imagination
sanctifed, aud that once | beheld with
unmixed dolight-Vhy is it not the sameP
Oh! the greater part of my cousins, who
resided in the Old House, and whose
heritage it was, were, as well as the vir-
tuoso who had so tastelully adorned it,
married, and residing far off; my great
uncle, the colonel, was, with my revcred
aunt, gone to 'the house Of all living,'-
and only one Of their large family was
now at home. AS for the mansion it
self, i, had lost its novelty and romance;
it was truly changed; and while l slip
ped at every step set on the p!oughed
gallery, | knew nevertheless that it was
no longer castle; the illusions Of my
childhood were dissipated, and ] had
unhappily become clear sighted to re-
alities. There was but one thing that
was romantic as ever the great dining
sage-and | would not even now have
ventured alone into the one, or down the
other at midnight; for superstition, when
early gaining ascendancy over the mind,
defies reason 10 annul her sway, and
seldom, if ever, relinquishes her power;
nay, even as l stood, almost expected
to see the shade of MY portly and tur-
bulent great uncle appear at the stair
head from the long passage, or from his
former dormitory, near me, in the oaken
gallery; and to hear that Of my revcred
aunt Screaming forth, according to GUS
tom, her domestic commands and threats
in every corner of the Old House.
But now were my ruminations, re-
miniscences, and revsries broken by
servant lighting the hall lamp, which had
cleaned on my cousins and me, when
we acted plays or played at ghosts, be-
meath its oensivo ray; and this, too, had
gllmmered on, the same as ever, during
the years Of my absence. l had, in the
days of my childhood, thought it twink
led mirthfully in unison with the merry
hearts that sported in the hall; in the
days of my youth (saddened by many
things more than youth is wont to be)
the solitary lamp seemed to glimmer lur-
idly on the gloomy panelling and ac-
coutrements ofthat lone, deserted spot,
well, the lamp bcamed, candles were
taken to the drawing room, and thither
| bent my steps TO converse with my
solitary cousin on the past!
Poor Old House, This was my last
visit TO it forever. 1t has since passed
into other hands, for those whose her
itage it was, sold it, when circumstances
obliged them all to abide far from it; its
beauty is gone; it is wreck, it is worse
than nothing to ME; and though I know
that the family flourish abundantly on a
better portion, it still seems that the
quitting an ancient abode is the omen of
its decay. Poor Old House! where
happiness, that shall never know again
first lighted and warmed my bosom, fare
WE'LL to me thou art dead, and the trib-
ute that owed l have thus paid to thy
memory.