The Arkansas advocate., 1830-11-17

1 over ali tine country side about tine mys- terlous young stranger who now lived at the Fold.
 Every day, and when he chose to ab- sent himself from his h4nnts among the hills, every hour was Lucy before the young poets eyes-and every hour did her beauty wax more beautiful in his imagination. Who Mir. Howard was. or evenift that were indeed his real name. no one knew; but none doubted that he was fgentle birth, and allwith whom he had ever conyersed in his elegant a. menlty, could have sworn that a youth so bland and free, and with such voice, and such eyes, would not have injured the humblest of Gods creatures, much less such creature as Lucy of the Fold. 1t was indeed, even so--for before the long summer days were gone, he who had never had sister, loved her even as if she had slept on the same maternal bosom. Father or mother he now had none-indeedscarcely onenearrelative although he was rich in the worlds rich es; but in them poorin comparison with the noble endowments nature had lav- lshed upon his mind. His guardian took little. heed of the splendid but way ward youth, and knew not now swhither his faneies had carried him, were 1t even to some savage land. Thus the Fold became6o him the one dearest roofun- der theroof of heaven. All the simple on goings of that humble home, love and imagination beautifiead into poetry; and all the rough or coarser edges of lowiy life were sohened away in the light of genius that transmitted every thing on which 1t fell; while all the silent intima- tioiis which nature gave there of her primal sympathies, in the hut as fine and forcefui as in the hall. showed'to his ex- cited spirit pre-eTainentiy beautiful. and chained it to the hearth around which was read the morning and evening pray CT.
 What wild schemes. docs not love i'm :agine, and in the face of impossibility |achieve. ''1 will take Lucy to myself, fit should be in place of ali the world. l will myself breathesiight over her be- ing, tillin new spring itshallbeadorned with living flowers that fade not away, perennial and self renewed. In few years the bright, dociie creature, shall have the soul of q very angeI-and then before God and his holy altar, mine shall become foreyer-here and hereaf ter--ln this paradise of earth, and if more celestial be, in the paradise of heaven.o
 Thus two summers and two winters wheeled away into the past; and in the change, inperceptibly from day to day, but glorious at last, wrought on Lucy's nature by communication with one so prodigally endowed, scarcely could her parents believe it was their same child. except thatshe was as dutiful as before, as af1ectionate, and as fond of all the familiar objects dead or living, round and about her birth place. She had now grown to woman's stature-talI. though she scarcely seemed so, except when among her playmates, and in her maturing loveliness, fulfilling and far more than fulfilling, the fair promise of her childhood. Never once had the young stranger--stranger no more spoken to daughter, father or mother, of his love. Indeed for all that he felt to- wards Lucy, there must have been some other word than love. Tenderness, which was almost pity-an affection that was often said; wonder at her sur- passing beauty, not less at her uneon- sciousness of it's power-admiration of her spiritual qualities, that-eve rose up to meet instruction as if already formed and that heart throbbing that stirs the blood of youth when the innocent eyes it loves are beaming in the twilight through smiles or through tears-these, and a thousand other feelings, and above all, the creative faculty of a poets soul, now constituted his very being when Lucy was in his presence, nor forsook him when he was alone among the noun tains.
 Atlastit vas lxnownthrough the coun- try that Mr. Howard-the stranger, the scholar, the poet, the elegant gentleman, ofwhon nobody knew much, but who5n every body loved, was going--in year or less--to marry the daughter of Allen Flemming-Lucy of the Fold. Oh grief and shame to the parents-ifstill living --off tine noble boy: On sorrow for hin-