The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1839-01-09
SELECTED TALES.
From the Portland Magazine.
VI A RI II ELL.
BY MRS. ANN $. STEPHENS.

Methnks might that sweet season last
In which our first love dream is past;
Ere doubt and cares, and jealous pain,
Are flaws in the hearts diamond chain =
Man might forget TO think of heaven,
And yet have the sweet sin forgiven"
L. f. L.
DO think that it has been my COED for
tune to spend my chiIdhood in one of the
most beautiful villages in America, aud my
early youth in another. The first. Pine
Island, have described but do no, think
II possible to give a just idea Of the beauties
OF 3; however | will try. 1t seemed
as If an immense rocky hill divided IN the
middle, and the separate parts had retreat
cd east and west, just far enough to hedge
IN village, lying cool and scquestered in
its cleft bosom. The river, which had so
nearly proved fatal to Mary Bell, swept
around the eastern hill, and entering the
southern mouth of the valley, ran up to the
village, where it took graceful sweep n
round several Iuxuriant meadows, and
gently retraced lis course to the south n
gain, along the base of the western hill,
apparently visiting our valley for no other
purpose but to refresh and heau,ify it. Al
the opening Of the valley, just where the
stream began IFS curve toward the west,
the stage road crossed il by bridge.
Nothing could be mnre beautiful than the
view from this wooden arch. To the
right was The river rolling OH IN deep and
silent majesty, hedged in Ivy wild honey
suckIes, sweet brer, lockwood aud black
berry bushes, and shadowed by large trees.
A the end of the bridge, line of magniti-
cent " illews bent over the hank, where the
waters caught their flexile branches and
crippled pIayfulIy among their delicate
leaves. Below, the river wldened and fell
in beautiful sheet over Mr.. Johnson's
mill-dam, and went sparkling onward to-
ward the old elms in n graceful semi-circu-
lar sweep. Before you was the wiley, rich
in meadows, Interspersed with clumps of
trees, and fields waving with golden grain.
On either side rose The majestic hills, swell
ling out into rich pasturage and sur
mounted with crown of rocks, now and
then jntting out from pile of rich forest
trees towering upward and waving their
abundant drapery against the blue sky.
The village stood on the outer bend of the
stream, and was nestled into the very heart
of the valley, with its houses half hidden 10y
multitude of ornamental trees, and a Ia
per stecple rising like spirit of good from
their green shelter, catching the last sun
beams on its glit:erIng vane. Here and
there, on the swell Of the hills, red or white
farm-houses were scattered, ana up the
valley, on gentle emi0ence, n congrega-
ton of mnrble slabs, glimmered among the
waving grass. There was the resting place
Of the dead.
The stage, rs it approached our village
one evening IN August, contained but two
passengers, Mary Bell and myself. We
were on our return from a schooI in-,
where education was forced by famine, and
pale hungry face was considered essen
,ia to genriity. Ofour several attainmen,s
| say nothing. Suffice it, we smiled with
digni6ed contempt at such hoidenish folies
as digging wells in the sand. and always
took notes of the serRons on Sundays. In
truth, like most other girls of sixteen, we
had formed tolerabe good opinion of our
selves, if of nothing else. Mary had sprung
up from a froIicksome child, into a gay,
fascinating girl full Of cheerfuness and good
DtIs'i, il IT'S dUu
graceful expansion, was perfect in its pro-.
portions as that of young Hebe. The
same bright hair darkened to brown in the
shadow or flashed gold in the SUM- The
red lip, the laughing eye, blue as the robins
egg, the dimpled mouth, all were ripening
into rich healthy womanhood: and her
beart--how brightly its sweet affections
sprung to her face, as we neared home on
on the above mentioned afternoon How
eagerly she leaned from the window with a
glad exclamation ms each remembered tree
and bush presented itselfl How raJiant
her face was with Joy ne a view of the vii
lagc broke upon US She threw her arms
around my neck, and kissed me in the ex-
uberance Of her feelings. Onward we weat
across the bridge and along the high road.
There was the silly head of Mrs. johnson
thrust from window nodding at us, and
screaming ut her boys at the same time
There was Mr.. Johnson locking his mill
door. Opposite, the red-haired miiliner
ian to her shop door, with a half trimms ed
bonnet in her hand. and an ill-got,en up
smile on her face, How that creature did
hate my friend aud all because dear Ma
ry was young, gay and beautiful; while
she was old and honely, with ie.Rper ms
disagreeable as her bleach box. We d,d
no, stop to think of her, for there wa, m,
home Just as had seen it n thousand time,
half hidden in the twilight and the surroun-