Virginia statesman. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1828-1829, 1829-06-03


tall, square-built, muscular, stout aud ac-
tive man, with a reSoute countenance, a
keen eye and an intelligent smile: his tenn
per was bOlsterous and irascible, generous
and kind TO those whom he loved, bntquick
to take offence, and slow 10 pardon, and
exactng implicite obedience from all about
him. With all Dora's good gifts, the
sweet and yielding nature ofthe gentle and
submissive little girl, was undoubtlngly the
chief cause other uncle's Partially. Above
all he was obstinate in the highest degree,
had never been known to yield a point or
change a resolution; and the fault was more
inyeterate, because he called it tirmness,
and accounted it a virtue. For the rest,
he was a person ofexcellent principle, and
perfect integrity; clear-headed, prudent 81
sagacious; fond ofagrlcultural experiments
which he pursued cautiously and success
fully; a good farmer and a good man.
His son Walter, who was IN person,
handsome likeness of his father, resembled
him also in many points of character, was
equally obstinate, and far more fiery, hot,
aud bold. lie loved his pretty cousin, as
much as he would have loved d fayorite
sister, and might very possibly, il let alone,
have become attached to her as his father
wished; but to be dictated to, to be chain
ed down to distant engagement, to hold
himself bound to a mere child; the very
idea was absurd; and with difficulty re-
straining an abrupt denial, he walked down
into the village, predlspOsed, out OF sheer
contradiction, to fall in love with the first
young woman who should come in has
way; and did fall in love accordingly.
Mary Hay, the object of his illtaled pas
sion, was the daughter of the respectable
mistress of small endowed school at the
other end of tho parish. She was a deli
cate, interesting creature, with slight,
dropping figure, and far downcast face,
like a snowdrop, forming such a contrast
with her gay and gallant woaer, as Love,
[, in his yagaries, is often pleased to bring
together.
The courtship was secret and tedious,
and prolonged for months to years; for
Mary shrank from the painful contest
which she knew that an ayowa of their at
tachment would occasion. AT length her
mother died, and deprived of home and
maintenance, she reluctantly consented to
a private marriage; an immediate discovery
ensued, and was followed by all the evils,
land more than all, that her worst fears had
!, anticipated. Her husband was turned
from the house of his father, ard in less
than three months, his death by an lntlam-
T. atory fever, left her a desolate and penny
less widow-unowned and unassisted by
the stern parent, on whose unreenting ten
per neither the death of his son, nor the
birth of his grandson, seemed TO make the
slightest impression. But for the general
sympathy excited by the deplorable situa-
ton, and blameless demeanor Of the wid-
q owed bride, she and her infant might have
p taken refuge in the workhouse. The whole
neighborhood was jealous to relieve, and
5 serve them; but their most liberal benciac-
tress, their most devoted friend, was poor
Dora. Considering her Uncle's Partially
r to herself the primary cause OF all this
. misery, she felt like guilty creature; and
% casting of at once her native timIdlty, ana
b habtua submission, she had repeatedly
braved his anger by the most earnest sup
e. plcations for mercy and for pardon; and
S when this proved unayaihng, she tired to
$ mitigate their distress by all the assistance
y that her small means would pcrmit.
t Every shilling OF her pocket money, she
. expended upon her poor cousins; WORKED
r. for them begged Tor them, aud transferred
y to them every present that was made to her
e self, from a silk lrock to a penny .artlet
e Every thing that was her own she gave,
but nothing OF her uncIe's; for, though sore
s y tempted 10 transfer some Of the plenty
Z round hcr, to those whose cllims seemed
Y so Just and whose need was so urgent,
4 Dora felt that she was trusted, and that she
0 must prove herself trustworthy.
/. Such was the posture Of affairs. at The
- time of my encounter with Dora, and LITTLE
Walter, IN the harvest field; the rest wii
i be best told IN the course of our dialogue
\ "And so, Madam | cannot bear TO sec
my dear cousin Mary so sick, and so mel
S ancholy; and the dear, dear child, that a
r king might be proud of-only look at himr
4 exclaimed Dora, interruptIng herself, as
s the beautiful child, sitting on the ground,
5 IN all the digaiiy, Of infancy, looked up al
+ me and smiled IN my face; ''oDly look al
B. HIM, continued she, "and think Of that
+ dear boy, and bis dear mother living on
o icharity, and they my uncles lawful heirs,
G whilst !, who have no right whatever, no
claim at all that compared to them, am
, but a far-offkInswoman, the mere creature
: IL hls heantv sho,Il - - cnrnfnrf and