The Yazoo City Whig and political register. (Yazoo City, Miss.) 183?-1840, 1839-09-13
MISCELLANEOUS.
The Broken Hearted.
BY GEO. D. PRENTICE.

/
have seen the infant sinking down, like
a stricken flower to the grave-the strong
man fercely breathing out his soul upon the
field of battle-the miserable convict stand
ing upon the scaffold, with a deep curse
quivering on his lips. have viewed death
in all his forms of darkness and vengeance,
with a fearless sRe-but never could look
on woman, young and lovely woman, fading
away from the earth, in beautiful and un-
complaining melancholy, without feeling the
very fountains of life turned to tears and
dust Death is always terrible-but when
form of angel beauty is passing off to the
silent land OF seepers, the heart feels that
something lovely is ceasing from existence,
and broods, with sense of utter desolation,
over the lonely thoughts, that come up like
spectres from the grave, to haunt our mid
night musings.
Two years ago I took up my residence for
few weeks, in a country village in the
eastern part of New England. Soon after
my arrival, | became acquainted with love-
| ly girl, apparently about seventeen years Of
age. She had lost the idol of her pure
hearts purest love, and the shadows of
deep and holy memories were resting like
the wing of death upon her brow. first met
her in the presence of the mirthful. She
was, indeed, creature to be worshipped-
her brow was garlanded by the young years
sweetest flowers; her yellow locks were
hanging beautifully and low upon her bosom
and she moved through the crowd with
such floating, unearthly grace, that the
bewildered gazer looked almost to see her
fade away into the air, like the creation of
some pleasant dream. She seemed cheer
full and even gay; yet | saw that her gaiety
was but the mockery OF her feelings. She
smiled, but there was something inner smile
which told, that its nourpful beauty was
but the bright reflection of tear-and her
eyelids at times closed heavily down, as if
struggling to repress the tide of agony that
was bursting up from her hearts secret urn.
She looked as if she could have left the
scene of festivity, and gone out beneath the
quiet stars, and laid her forehead down upon
the fresh green earth, and poured out her
stricken soul, gush after gush, till itmingled
with the eternal fountain of life and purity.
Days and weeks passed on, and that
sweet girl gave me her confidence. and be-
came to her as brother. The smile upon
her lip was faint, the purple veins upon her
cheek grew visible, and the cadences other
voice became daily more weak aud tremu-
Ious. On quiet evening in June, ! wan
dered out with her in the open air. II was
then that she told me the tale Of her pas
sion, and Of the blight that had come down
like mildew upon her life. Love had been
a portion of her existence Its tendriis had
been twined around her heart in its earliest
years; and when they were rent away, they
left wound which flowed till all the springs
of her soul were blood. 81 am passing
away" said she, ssand it should be so. The
winds have gone over my life, and the bright
buds of hope and the sweet blossoms of
passion are scattered down, and lie wither-
ing in the dust. And yet cannot 90 down
among the tombs without tear. Il is hard
to take leave of friends who love me; it is |
very hard to bid fare we'll to those dear scenes
with which | have held communion from
childhood, and which, from day to day, have
caught the color ofmy life, and sympathized
withits joys and sorrows. That little grove
where have SO often stFayed with my bur-
led Love, and where. At times, even now,
the sweet tones Of bis voice seem to come
stealing around me, till the whole air be-
comes one intense and mournful melody