Carroll free press. [volume] (Carrollton [Ohio]) 1834-1861, 1845-09-19

weep; no 'oFeT to SrieVe fg me, and al
night the angels viii visit ne"
Here Horace, fearing heV mind wouId
wander, gave her an opia.e which the sur
geon had left, and wih his hand clasped
fir'u'yin hers, the suffering girl fell asleep.
For some time no sound, save the signing
and sobbing Of the wind, troke the dead
silence; the pale raoOn waned; the glitter
ing stars di8apPeared-suN Helen slept,
and Horace watched. Suddenly, feint
sounds Of distant bugle were waited on
the gale; it died away; sgain it sounded,
playing that song which speaks to the heart
Of all, "SWeyt Home" SWeetiy and sol-
EMMY the melody echoed on the still air,
and as the last note ceased, Helen opened
those dreamy eyes, and ciasping her arms
around the neck Of Horace, murmured Il
come, come" Cleveland laid her back
on her pillow, and fcit the pure spirit had
fed. Gently he closed those dark oft eyes;
lenderly he smoothed the heavy masses Of
raven hair around that pale sweet face;
and with almos; mothers care he crossed
the small white hands, over that heart
which through life had beat but for him.
=
I. was in the summer Of I8-, large
white mansion stood some distance from
the road, near Winchester, Virginia. Col
onel Horace Cleveland, after having fought
with distinguished bravery in the service
Of his country, retired with his lovely wife,
at the conclusion of the war, to reside in
the house Of his father, his heart yearning
10 again behold the scenes If his bovish davs.
Time had passed his hand lightly over the
fair brow Of Annie; her golden ringiets were
now put gravely away under the matron-
| ly cap. Time had not quenched the fire Of
Horace Cleveland's dark eyes; though it
had siIvered his raven hair, and partially
stolen the glow from his manly cheek
They stood together watching the setting Of
the sun, the sweet evening air waited to
their senses the perfume Of many flowers.
Passing his arm carelessly around his wife,
Colonel Cleveland said, "Come, my love,
this is our hour for visiting poor Helen"
"True, dear Horace" replied Annie, "for-
give my abstraction. Butt was thinking
Of our happiness. This is the anniversary
Of that evening on which you first told
Your love, and can woman, when loving
as did, forget the hour when she first
hears and feels her affection recprocated
1t was an evening like this. Do you re-
member it, love?"
"Remember it," replied her husband af
fectonately, "yes, Annie, well do | remem
ber the rapture Of my heart on feeling yor
were all MY own. But come, dearest, WE
must not neglect poor Helen"
1t was lonely spoti mournfuI willow
hung its dropping branches over the pur'
marble slab which bore the name Of HELEN.
1t was a sacred place, so hushed and still
! it seemed as if the pure spirit Of the depar
ted one fingered DER the spot; the modes
violets and sweet lilies of the valley min
gIed their perfumed breaths with the silve
~ sound Of the falling waters from thatlit
tie stream along whose enameled banks
HER fairy footsteps were wort to glide, a
the still twilight hour;-,he crescent moon
like a pearly bark. moved through the darl
blue heavens, casting a mellow, subdued
trembling light over the holy spot whicl
contained the remains of the broken hear
ted HELEN CLEVELAND.