Literary cadet, and Saturday evening bulletin. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1826-1827, 1827-01-27


she warbled to the delighted youth, and he
and empty praise, but with mute tention
and the tear of sensibility. Another and
another song succeeded, and the youthful
pair began to feel as if they had been long
acquainted, and as though it were nothing
unusual to be seated together under the
old oak among the freshness, fragrance,
and wildness Of natures lonely haunts. -
In the midst of long tale which Ellen re-
lated Of an Indian warrior who fell fighting
for his forest heritage nearly half centu-
ry ago, and whose bones wers said to be
at rest in the heart of the mound beneath
their feet, she observed it was growing late
The shadows Of the tall trees that skirted
the western brink of the glen, had length
ened in the setting sun, and now cast a
shade upon the clear fountain !; the
dew had begun to gather upon the grass,
and breathess silence reigned through
the woodland solitude, all unbroken save
by the robins vesper strain. Ellen regret
ted that she could not finish the interesting
tale, but she folded up her work and was
preparing to depart. Her auditor could
scarcely believe that evening was so near
the hours passed under the hazels had gil
ded away like so many delicious moments
IN which we take no heed of time. Again
and again he thanked her for the pleasure
afforded by the wild story and her sweet
songs, till his ardor called the glowing
bushes to her cheeks. She began to re-
tine on her homeward path, wishing him
pleasan walk With tone that forbade his
accompanying her. He answered not, but
stood entrancrd ike one who witnesses the
vanishing of heavenly vision which he is
never more to behold; then calling after
her, she turned 'Ellen-tair Ellen, prom
ise that shall hear the rest of your ro-
mantle story. See-the sun is going down
in red and golden clouds, the morrow will
be bright and delightful day---surely you
will take your work to the spring and re-
late the remainder Of the storyp In his
earnest entreaty he had taken her soft
hand into his; there was a beseechins
eloquence IN his dark eye, and his tone
was supplicating as if life and happiness
depended on hearing simple tale. She
could not resist such pleading, and smiling
assent, she withdrew her hand and bade
him good night. And thus they parted
the generous and romantic Edward to the
proud mansion Of his father, the humble,
innocent. and amiable Ellen, to the lowly
root of 1er mothers cottage
There was an elasticity in Ellen's step,
and flush Of delight on her usually calm
features as she came up to the cottage
door, so that her mother was sure she had
been happy at work on her woodland seat.
She told her mothhr all that happened, not
mentioning, however, the partial promise
to meet on the ensuing day Mrs Bare
lay was both gratiiied and alarmed---grati-
fed to perceive the pleasure OF Ellen, and
with the thought that even in her poverty
her daughter could excite the admiration
and respect once readily conferred before
they were poor; she was fearful, however,
Of sanderous tongues, but she trusted i'm
plicitly in Ellen's reotitude, and the gen
eral esteem in which Edward was held
could never have been yielded 50 sudden
ly to one who had evil in his disposition.
She was ignorant that they were to meet
again, and therefore did not chide Ellen
for the past. Her daughter was all sim
plicity and open-heartedness, and she
spoke often of the graceful boy that even
ing; even while kneeling in PRAYER by her
oSoo'oS, y'uthiui otoiC upOu IcT,
distracting her mind between earth and
heaven; the hymn he sang that night was
one which he had admired, and with her
dreams he was blended as a pure vision of
light and lovelness. The cottage stood
on the skirts of the village, and you had
only to walk quarter of a mile along a
narrow foot-path through green fields, to
escape from the view and din of active
life to the silent and wild glen of the foun-
tain. Several times day Ellen came
there with small bucket for water, and
never had the place seemed so sweet and
beautiful as on the morning after she had
sat on the same rural seat with Edward
Vinal. She felt that the retreat was dear
or than ever, and the remembrance of th,
happy hours which she had passed there
would remain forever, like fair flower
blossoming on the cold waste of after life.
That was long and tedious night for
Edward. His father had required his at
tendance till late in the evening, and his
capricious, fretful expressions had never
sounded so harsh before. Mr.. Vinal was
proud Of his son, and was able to appreci-
ate the loftiness and purity of his charac-
ter, but strange to say, he felt none of a
fathers love. Perhaps he was conscious
that his past neglect and present bearing
did not merit love in return. There was
a painful sensation of inferiority as he con.