Du Buque visitor. [volume] (Dubuque, Lead Mines, Wisconsin Territory) 1836-1837, 1836-06-29

GUS fOlCC, l1OSi1Cu w ia eHC CA4ulSile
old song of Allan Water. Alice was
Exceedingly affected with these lines:
..Bnt the summer grief had brought her,
For her soldier false proved he;''
land when the laststraindied away, faint
and sweet upon the moonlight waters,
she sobbed audibly. After giving her
feelings their full, unrestrained flow.
she grew calmer, and taking my hand, ,
she said, 4 will tell you my poor story
now, dear Constance; / have not had
the heart to mention it before.
lam anative of New York, and have
|all my life been resident of that beau
| tiful city. My father was among the
first and wealthiest citizens, and had a
large and lovely family, of whom I
was the youngest. lost my blessed
mother early; and, ere many. more
springs passed over my head, my bro
theirs and sisters, one after another.
were laid in the dust beside her; and
| was left the sole surviving child. I
was extremely young, but remember
how strangely deserted our house look
ed after Death had entered its doors
how watched for the fine manly forms
OF my brothers, and the light footsteps
of my sweet sisters!- listened to-
hear their silver voices ring clear and
merry as were their wont!-for their
kind words and endearing smiles, but.
in vain! The hearth, and hall. and
board, were desolate--they returned
no more to bless my yearning heart.
My fond fathers affections were now
garnered for me, and his whole happi-
ness bound in the daughters, who was
all that remained to him on earth. I
was reared in all the elegance of afluent
life, and received all the advantages Of
education that wealth co,I;l offer.
Thus grew up, my dear Constance,
to my seventeenth year: then thread
"a bright golden thread-began to
Irvine in the woof of my sad being. A
nephew of my mother (the only son of
her twin sister, came to spend year
~ the city, and.sat my fathea's invita-
ton, took up his abode with us. He
soonbecamc a favorite, for he bore a
striking Resemblance to my lamented
mother. He had her own dark bright
eyes-her tall and graceful figure, tho
cast in a stronger mould-hcr winning
smile; and her tone ofvoice. To tell
you at once, dear Constance, | chose
cousin Herbert Leslie from the many
worshippcrs or fatterers that knelt at
my shrine--for | was an heiress-and
gold, you know, has magic. / had my
fathers saifction and approval of my
choice, and I knew that none could
compare with my gay but gifted cou-
sin. So love bound his silken cord a
round the wing Of my spirit, and my
whole existence was woven in the
dream of my FIRST passion. Ay, Con-
stance, loved and still love dear Her
bert with deep, intense DEVOTION
strong even as death itself.
sBnt the time for our first parting
came. Herbert held the rank Of com
handing officer over the distant fort at
Macklnaw. His health had obliged
him to quit his post; but, as that was
re- establls shed, It was necessary that he
should now return. His absence was
limited to a year and as my father was
growing infrm, he proposed that Her.
bert, on hisreturn, should relieve him
from the weight Of business. With
these prospects, and mutual assurances
of unchanging fidelity, we parted; and
Herbert put this amethyst ring on my
finger as token Of constancy. Alas!
/ needed no emblem to remind me Of
one whose image is linked with all my
thoughts.
But let me hasten to the sudden re-
versal Of my fortune. Directly after
Herbert's departure, a fire broke out
in our street, which swept with besom-
like destruction over us; and,g in the
midst Of prosperity and affluence, we
were thrown into the depths Of advcr-
sity. My father bore this calamity
with his own fortitude; and, thankful
that his child was left him, he collected
from the wreck Of our large fortune a
few hundreds, and we left New York
immediately for Buffalo.
Con our arrival there, wrote to
Herbert Leslie of our altered circum-
stances, with my fathers wish that he
.lar,,ldcome, 10 U.S. a few weeks bro't
his short answer: "A fallfrom his horse,
,e wrote, had broken his arm, and pro-
luced dangerous illness, from which
e was slowly and very imperfectly re-
'oyering. This, Ne said, together with
lis present embarrassed affairs, would