Phenix gazette. [volume] (Alexandria [D.C.]) 1825-1833, 1830-11-18

Thus few happy and useful years passeu ny
and it was forgotten by all--but herse'f-'hat
Margaret Burnside was an orphan But 10 De
without one near and dear blOod-relatiVe III an
the world, must often, even to the heart oi YOUTH
ful innocence. be moie than penslve-a Pain-
full thought; and therefore, though Margaret BURN
side was always cheerful among her little scho-
lars. and wore sweet smile on her face, yet IN
the retirement Of her own room. "a pretty parlor,
with window looking into flower garden and
on her walks among the braes, her mien was some
what melancholy. and her eyes wore that touching
expression, which seems doubtfully to denote
neither 10y nor sadness-but habit OF soul when
in its tranquility. still partakes Ut the monrniul.
as if memory dwelt often on past SORROWS. and
hope scarcely ventured to indulge in dreams OF
future repose. That profound orphan-teellng en-
bued her whole character; and sometimes when
the young Ladies from the Castle smiled praises
upon her, she retired in uncomfortable gratitude to
her chamber-and wept.
Among the friends at whose houses she visited
were the family at Mooreside, the hgcst hill farm
in the parish,& one ON which her father had been
a hind 1t consisted of the master, man whose
head was grey, his son and daughter, and grand
child, her scholar, whose parents were dead
Gilbert Adamson had long been awidower--in-
deed his wife had never been i'll the psnsh, but
had died abroad. He had been a soldier IN his
youth and prime of manhood; and when he came
to settle at ioorside he had been looked at with
no very friendly eye for evil rumors OF his char
acter had preceded his arrival there-Gnd IN that
peaceful pastoral parish. far removed iron the
worlds strife, suspicious. without any good rea-
son, perhaps, had attached themselves to tie
morality and religion of a man, who had seen
much foreign service, and had passed the best
g., IN, tI,., wa before
these suspicious faded away. and with some they
still existed in an invincible feeling OF dislike,
or even aversion. But the natural ferceness and
ferocitv which, as these peaceful dwcilers among
the hills imagined. had at first. in spite OF his Ell
forts to control them, often dangerously exhibit
ted themselvesin fiery outbreaks. advancing age
had gradually subdued; Gilbert Adamson had
grown hard working and industrious man; al
tecteG, if he followed it not in sincerity, even an
austerey religious life; and as he possessed more
than common sagaCity and intelligence, he had
acquired at last, If not won. certain ascendant
CIV in the parish. even over many whose hearts
never opened nor warmed toward, him--so that
he was now an elder of the Kirkland. as'the
most unwilling were obliged to acknowledge,
Just steward 10 the poor. His grey hairs were
not hanorpd. but it would not be too much to say,
that they were respected. Many who had doubt
ed him before, came to think they done him in
Justice, and sought to wipe away their fault by
rega rdin. him with TEEN. and showing them
selves willing 10 interchange all neighborly kind
ness and services with all the family 1T MoWside.
His son. though somewat wild and unstc ady. and
too much addicted 10 the fascinating pastlmes OF
food and field. often ruinous to the sons OF
labor. and rarely Ion pursued against the law
without yitiatinS the whole character. was Ia
vOrite with all the parish Singuiarly handsome.
and with manners above his birth. Ludovic was
welcome wherever he went. both with young and
old. No merry-making could deserve the name
without him. and at all the meetings for the display
of feats of strength and agility. far and wide,
thrOus more counties than one, he was the cham
pion. Nor had he received mean education All
that the parish school master could teach,hc knew,
aud having been the darling companion OF all the
gentlemen's sons in the Manse. the faculties of
his mind had kept pace with theirs, and from them
he had caught, too. uncOnsciouslr that demeanor
so far superior TO what could have been expected
froln one in his humble condition, but which. at
the same time, seemed SO conSenia with his hap
py nature, as to be readily acknowledged to be
one Of its original gifts Of his sister. Alice, it
is sufficient to say, that she was the bosomfiiend
Of Margaret Burnside, and that all who saw their
friendship felt that it was just. The small pa
rentless granddaughter was also dear to Marga-
ret-more than perhaps her heart knew. because
that, like herself, she was an orphan. But the
creature was also merry and madcap child.
aud her treaSish pranks, and playful perverse-
ncsses. as she tossed her golden head in untame
able g!ee. and went dancing and singing like
bird the boughs of tree, all day long. by some
strange sympathies entirely won the heart OF her
who. throughout all her own childhood, had been
familiar with grief, and lonely shedder of tears.
And thus did Margaret love her, it might be said.
even with mothers love. She generally pass
ed her free Saturday afternoons at MOorside, and
often slept there all night with little Ann IN her
bosom. At such times Ludovic was never from
home, and many Sabbath he walked with her to
the kirk-all the f,mily togrther-and nee by
themselves for miles along the moor-a forenoon
of perfect sunshine. which returned upon him i'll
his agony on his dying day.
No one said. 10 one thought that Ludoyic and
Margaret were lovers-nOr were they, though
we'll worthy indeed of each others love: for the
orphans whole heart was filled and satisfied with
sense of duty, and all its affections were CEN
tired in her happy school. where all eyes blessed
her and where she had been Dlaceu for he tpoud