Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1842-02-17
TIL L PR0P0 0SAL;
Or, Clifford & the Countess.


aisles Of the venerable building were
thronged with persons. One might havo
thought, who looked upon the coronet,
gli,ering on the cushion of crimson vel
vet, and all the other insignia Of high
rank, that curiosity alone had drawn
thi'her such crowd; but a deeper in
terest was marked on every countenance;
and the firm voice Of the minister had
iallered more than once, as he read ths
solemn service. Yet the coffin was that
Of child, a little, tender infant, who had
died in its first unconscious elplessness.
Every one thought Of tho father, stand
ing up among them, and looking 80 desc
late n his grief. More than one fond
mother wcpt, and drew her cloak closely
round the nlan. on her bosom, as she
gazed round upon the mourDtul pOmp,
and the little coffin, and the young no
bleman-childless, and worse than Wild
owed-O yes! worse than widowed! ns
he stood there, and followed with his
eyes tho movement of rae men then plac-
ing the coffin OF his child in the shadowy
darkness of the open vault below him.
That church was place Of agonzing
recollection TO the young Earl OF Derby.
Often had he entered il happy hus-
band, and as he walked slowly down the
aisle TO his carriage, he could not help
recalling the day when his beautiful and
modest bride had clung, in trembling
bashfulness, to his arm, when he had
there, for the first time, called her his
wife.
81 am sick Of all this idle pompr' he
said to himself, as he entered the wide
nall OF his own magnificent residence,
attended by his train Of servants, and
met by the obsequious bows Of the men
who had conducted the funeral; 81 am
sick OF all this mockery! ] will bear it
no longer. Would that | were a poor,
Woodworking peasant, with some honest
hearts to care for me, aud love me.
am heartily tired Of your great peoPleo'
Not many weeks after the sfuncral Of
the heir Of the noble house Of Dsrby,a q
solitary, waylaring man stopped a. The
turning Of n little footpa,h, which led
down the sloping side ofthe hill overlook
lug the village Of Il. He had
been leisurely wandering on since the
early hours OF the morning, and had not
yet found the place " hcIe he would TEST
for the night.
"Here, at least, is happy scenr,"
he said, as he looked down upon tho
little village at the foot OF the hill. About
fifty or sixty persons were scattered, IN
careless groups, about the pleasant green.
Some OF them were dancing beneath n
venerable grove Of elms, others were
crowdine round the only booth which
had been raised in the rustic fair. "At
least, ] may witness their enjoyment,
though | cannot share it," he said; and
in few moments he was standing be-
meath the old trees on the green.
But, although he was not recognized
as the Earl Of Derby, aud disgusted by
the attentions paid to his rank and sta
ton, he found the familiarity Of those he
came in contact with not quite SO agreea-
bic as he had perhaps expected. Quiet
ly he turned away from the noisy scene
He passed over the old bridge, which
crosses the clear and shallow stream, and
turned down lane, the banks Of which
were overgrown with wild flowers, and
Struggling bushes Of birch, sufficiently
high and thick to meet overhead, and
form a perfect bower OF grateful shade.
A poor woman was returning home
through the lane with her children, her
infant sleeping soundly on her bosom,
and a curly y-headed urchin dsendng his
cheeks with putting at Il little painted
trumpet, the horrid grating OF which had
all the charm of novelty and noise to hiu:.
The young mother looked so bot aud
tired, and withal SO good hunored, that
the Earl could not resist asking her if
she could direct him to a lodging. "Not
in that merry village we have Just le6,"
he said, "for am unwell and tired"
The woman pointed 10 little Path, not
very far from the spot where they stood,
which turned suddenly out Of the lano
into wood, overhanging the river; and
directed him TO follow il through large
corn-6ch, and up very steep, sandy
lane; and then, for about half a mile over
but snch directions Bre tlreseme e.
nough when one is obliged To- hsten Ia
them To learn ones own way; here, they
would be even more SO. Besides, an
not sure the Earl atte nded d to the poor wo-
man, for he lost his way. lie walked
on, wrapped in his own melancholy
thoughts, hut snothed, in every sense,
by the cool fresh mir, the gurgling flow
OF The river, and all those distant sounds,
which, IN the quiet fields, ON far, ealna
evening, fall 30 swee,ly indisiinet upon
the ear. But the sun had sci before the
wanderer awoke To the recollection of
the purpose before him. lie looked "a
round him; hs saw green and s'eplng
hills, many stately trees, aud The same
calm rive, flowing gently below, but M
house. At last, where the leafy shade
was deepest, he discovered a pile Of old,
quantity shaped chimnsys, opposed ~
gainst the glowing sky. lie had not
far in the direction Of the fnrm-
house, which now plainly appeared a.
mong the trees, when light step seom-
ed TO approach him, aud then stopped
suddenly; and he heard the sound oi
weeping. A hazel copso
separated bim from the meadow whence