The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1833-06-05

the furles Of old, are ever preten To lasll
me. ] am once more in the deserted
home of my faihers-I am no longer a
fettered maniac, crouching spaniel-like
before the glare of my savage keeper.
There is 40 one t0 whom dare open
my mind. IL may be childish morbid
feeling, but still dare not, cannot do il.
The presence Of man is hateful 10 me-
all seem tn look on me with loathing
and haired. must unIoad my breast
] must give some vent 10 the fire winch
burns within me, and record my tale of
desolation > any thing is preferable to
unbroken silence; and it 10 matter of
consolation that when was gone, some
peschance may pity me, when they per-
use the strange record of my blasted
fate.
The second son Of family more dis
Iiinguished for unblemished Antiquity
than possessions Of wealth, l was ea,ly
thrown, in a great measure, on ny own
resources, and sought in foreign climes
that fortune which there was no chance
of finding at home. i was successful
beyond hope or expectation and ere
my health had been lost aud Nreng,h
wasted by the withering influence of a
tropical cline, ] was on my way
home, rich almost beyond my widest
desires.
"Nnw am I indeed happy" | ex-
claimed MS the palm-clad hills of Bombay
faded from my sight" now am happy
indeed" For hume, with all its ecshtic
associations, rushed fnll and strong on
my mind; I had father whom ! reger-
ed "a brother whom l loved as brother
never was loved before was going to
see them, to live with them, never to
part more. But there was one IN whom
was concentrated the love Of father and
brother, and more than both--one who
for years, ay, seven from nv boyish
days." had ever formed a part Of my
musings by day, my dreams by night
the thoughts of whose love and consian-
cy had been my guiding polsr star in all
difficulties, the zest Of my prosperity,
the solace of my darker hours; deprived
of whom. life seemed but salt-spwn
DESERT" though invested with all that
was glorions or great, and wish whom a
crust of brown bread and squalil how
el seemed richer than the banquet Of a
Roman Emperor, or the palaceof an
eastern magician whose slaves were
mighty gepii, and to whom the clemens
themselves were ministerIng spirits
Helen vere--my hand shakes like
palsied age rs trace her Daipe--Helen
We're was my first, my only lo'e;
IL. 4, T. u L.. xpha fhx, ,~Ao
was, and it grew with my years and
strengthened with my strength. see
her this moment before me, plain and
distinct, as If she "were still 10 the
flesh" Her slender, exgnsteIy 6rmed
person; her glorious bust, fayltlessly
white as unconiaminated snow, delicate-
ly intersected with veins vyjng with the
dreamy azure Of an Italian sky her
large dark swimming eyes; whert pas
sionate love and maiden bashfln
dwclt, twin sisters! her hand-her but
] injure by this attempt at description
her peerless beauty might be dreaGt of,
but never, never could be painted by po-
ct or Inner.
We were young when we parted7she
was but girl, and ! but few stepF be-
yond boyhood and we loved almost as
children love, without dream of chi lnge
or alteration. We pledged no vbws,
made no sworn promises
"For never having dream'd of falsehpod,
Had not one word to say of constanoy.'
| never dreamt Of change ! would have
as soon have thought that the sun could
cease to shine, GA the planets to keep
their nightly watch among the countless
armies Of heaven.
had nor heard from her for some
time; the communication with the East,
ESPECIALLY with that quarter, where /
was situated, was irregular and uncer-
tain, and many months had passed since
| had heard from home. learned AFTER
wards, that a letter had come day after
| sailed-would to God had received
it!-but l must not anticipate.
My passage home was long and te-
dious, but ut last the welcome cry from
the mast head was heard, and in few
hours my foot pressed the sacred soil of
Britain; / felt as if inspired by a new
existence the air seemed richer and
more balmy than tho aropatic gales of
Ceylon, for Helen We're breathed it.
That delicious moment richly repaid me
for years Of toll and privation and grief
Il was happy-how strange that word
seems now
lost not moment, but pressed
homeward; and soon the proud free,
cloud-mantled mountains Of my native
Scotland raised before me. The sight
brought back my home associations with
4 .olo,,bloJ c,,.ca I, J .;,; Joa,s - 4 H..