Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1841-03-26

like dripping rose" Tears Annie might,
and probably did slled--bu! that day she fled
from her home.
Years passed away. The mother of the
lost girl sank under this blow to her parental
hopes. The young maidcns, Armies COM
peers in age and beauty, became wives and
and the name of "far Annie Mac
lcod" was seldom mentioned but by sage
matrons, to warn their daughters, or by
chaste spnisters to draw comparisons to their
own advantage.
twas dark and stormy night in Novem-
Der 1892. that the pous aud venerable pastor
sent for to attend dying wo-
man. Wrapped in his plaid, the kind man
walked hurriedly along the common footway
to settlement Of squalid cottages, such
as vice and poverty usually inherit ln
one of these cottages, or ratherhuts, he found
the object of his search. Pale, cmanciatcd
and sinking away, like the pickering light o
an exhausted taper, lay the once beautiful
the once innocent and happy Annie Mac
lcod. What had been her fate since she left
her mothers roof it was easy to imagine,
though the veil of sccresy rested upon the
particulars of her history. Her senses were
at times unsettled and it was only during
the short glcamings of a sounder mind, that
she was ablcto recognize in the Rev. Dugald
Anderson, the pastor of her sinless youth,
and to recommend to Inn, thalI the pathos
Of dying love, the pretty, Unconscious child
that slumbered at her side. That done, her
heart, like the last string OF a neglected lutte,
broke, and the spirit that had once so Joyous
ly revclled in its abe dc of loneliness, fled
from the mined tenement of beauty forever.
"And these are the fruits of love ~ said
Anderson, bitterly, as he eyed the cold and
stiflencd features of Annie. ooh mon
strous violation of that llallowcd name !"
"Of truth, It's a fair sight ~ said an old
woman, the owner of the hut; "and l count
me the judgment o. guide God Wilma sleep
nor slumber on sic doings as the ruin o this
pulr lassic."
"No," said Anderson, emphatically, "lhc
Justice of God may seem 10 slumber, but is
awake.-Accursed is the seducer of inno-
ccnce; yea, the curse of broken hearts is
upon him. 1t shall come home to his heart
and to his spirit, till he lie down and die, in
very WEAKNESS of liic."
uC lJ'OuS IIuSiOl tOOh lIOlllc tilc lttlt lAll'c
to the Mause-and after the remains of her
mother were deccntly inferred in the village
of kirkyard, simple hcadstonc, Inscribed
with her name, told Of i,e last resting place
of "far Annie Maceod.'
Some years subsequently, to this melancho-
ly event, the good pastor ot-wcnt ont, as
was his wont, to "meditac at even tide"
AS he stood leaning at the white wicket gate,
that opened from his garden into the Church.
yard, thoughts ofearly days and early friends
came trooping TO his mind.
"No after friendships Ger can raise,
The endearments of our early days;
And mere the heart such foundness prove,
As when it first began 10 love"
T he last rays of the setting sun slonc full
upon the winds of the chapel, rejecting from
them thousand mimic glorics. His cyc
glanced from the holy ediice to the sim pie
tombs, partially lighted by the slanting sun
beams, as they qnivcrcd throughthe branches
of the patriarchial trees, which here and
there hung over the forgotten dead. Sud-
denly man habltcd in foreign garb advan-
ccd up the broad pathway leading from the
vllage.-Looking about him, he at last stood
opposite white lieadstone, over which a
dccaycd yew threw its melancholy shadow.
1t was the hcadstone which marked the grave
of the once joyous Annie. As if oppressed
by some sudden emotion, he sank rather than
leaned against the holy trunY but soon again
returning TO tic grave he knelt down, and
burying his face with both hands, appeared
to weep. The good pastor, interested in the
scene, stood gazing unobscrvcd at the stran-
ger, who after the lapse of a few seconds,
rose up from his kncss and turned away as il
to retrace his steps. Then again coming
back, he stopped down, and plucking some
thing from the green sward, kissed ii, hid it
in his bosom, aud with rapid step left the
church yard.
Anderson returned into the Mansc, drew
chair to the hearth, sat down, took up a
book, laid it down again, and walked out into
the little court that irontcd the village. \
feeling of curiosity perhaps led him to glance
his eye over the way, where stood the only
ale-house in the hamlet, when he saw the
stranger come out, and, crossing the road,
stop at his own gate. TO his inquiry if the
Rev. Dugald Anderson was at home the good
pastor, in the affirmative, courteously held
back the gate for the stranger to enter; while
the little bareiooted lassic who opened the
door, seeing visitor with her master, bust
led EDWARDS, and ushered them into the best
parlor, carefully wiping with corner of hcl
blue-chcckcd apron the tall, spinstcr!ooking
elbow chair, and then withdrew to tell the
young Andersons what "bra' gallant the
master had brought hamc wi HIM"
The strangers appearance justified Jean.
ME S cnconiums. Though past the summer
of his the uncxineuishcd fire of youth still
| fingered in his dark full eye; and tall athlet-
ic person accorded well with the lofty bear
Ing Of his looks, and the refined courtesy OF
his manners.
Il believe said he, addressing Anderson
you have the care of young girl whose
mother died some years since 2
you mean the daughter of Annie Mac.
Leod 2
The same; and il is to ascertain her stu,
alton in your family, that l have taken the
liberty to wait upon YOU.
'Iicr situation in my family, my good sir,