Tri-weekly journal., 1847-05-27
a NIGHT OF YEARS.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

/ q pOSillOH 1Ou VIII perhaps TecOuecI tnat
one of Fanny Foresters exquisite sketches was
entitled Lucy Dutton.'
Now it happens that the real name of the he
rome of the lower true tale which | am about
to do myself the honor officiating to you, was
no other than Lucy Dutton. Shall rob her of
her hright-compel her to wear nom du
guerre, because my sister authoress accidental
ly gave the true name to one of her ideal crea-
tions! Shall | sacrifice truth to dejcacy? that's
the question?-'Nof You said no, did you not?
Then Lucy, Lucy Dutton, let it be.
Some forty years since. in the interior of my
beautiful native State, New York, lived the ia
Their of our heroine, an hoLest and respectable
farmer He had but two children-Lucy, a no
bic girl of nineteen and Ellen year or two
younger. The first named was winningly, ra-
Their than strikingly beautiful. Under man.
ner observable for its seriousness and a nun
like serenity, were concealed an imprisoned
nature, and heart of the deepest capacity for
loving. She was remarkable from her earliest
childhood for voice of thrilling and haunting
sweetness.
Ellen Dutton was the brilliant antipodes of
her sister; born beauty whose prerogative
OF prettiness was TO have her irresponsible own
way in all things, andat all times. Anindul-
gent father, weak mother, and an idolizing
sister, had all unconsciously contributed to the
u
strength, or generosity.
Where, in all Gods creatures, is heartless-
ness so seemingly mnatural-is selfshness so
detestlble, as in a beautiful woman
Lucy possessed fine intellect and as her pa
rents were well reared New Englanders, she
and her sister were far better educated than
other girls of their situation, in that then half
settled portion of the country. In those days
many engaged in school teaching from the hon
or and pleasure which it afforded, rather than
from necessity. Thus, a few months previous
to the commencement of our sketch, Lucy Dut-
ton left for the first time her fire-side circle to
take charge of school some twenty miles from
her native town. 3
For some while, her letters home were ex-
pressive only of the happy contentment which
sprang from the consciousness ofactive useful
ness, of receiving, while imparting good. But
anon there came a change; then were these re-
cords fs rfteTIzed BY fis ia1s
seemed striving for supremacy in the writer's
troubled little heart. Lucy IoUed; but scarcely
acknowledged it to herself, while she knew not
that she was loved; so, for time, that beauti-
full second-birth of woman's nature was like a
warm sunrise struggling with the cold mists of
morning. tfHa ur7 ra fg. as
But one day brought letter which could not
soon be forgotten in the home of the absent one,
letter traced by hand that trembled in SYM
pathy with a heart tumultuous with happiness.
Lucy had been wooed and won, and She but
waited her parents approval of her choice, to
become the betrothed of Edwin W, a man
of excellent family and standing in the town
where she had been teaching. The father and
mother accorded their sanction with many
blessings, and Lucys next letter promised
speedy visit from the lovers.
To such natures as Lucy's what an absorb
ing, and yet what revealing OF self is a first
passlon-what prodigy of giving. what an
mcalculable wealth of receiving what break
ing up is there of the deep waters of the soul,
and how heaven descends in a sudden star
shower upon life! If there is a season when
an angel may look with intense and fearful in
terest upon her mortal sister, It's when she be
holds her heart pass from the bud-like inno-
cence and freshness of girlhood, and taking to
its very core the fervid light of love, glow and
crimson into perfect womanhood.
AT last the plighted lovers came, and well
comes and festivities awaited them. Mr.. W
gave entire satisfaction to the father, mother,
and even to the exacting beauty He was a
handsome man, with some pretensions to fash
ion; but in manner, and apparently in charac-
ter, the opposite of his betrothed.
1t was decided that Lucy should not again
leave home, until after ner marriage, which at
the request of the ardent lover, was to be cele-
brated within two months, and ON the coming
birthday of the bride. 1t was therefore ar
ranged that Ellen should return with Mir
to M, to take charge of her sisters school
for the remainder of the term.
The bridal birthday had came. 1t had been
ushered in by a May morning of surprising
loveliness-the busy hours had worn away, and
now it was nigh sunset, and neither the bride
groom, or Ellen, the first bridesmaid had APP
peared. Yet, her little neat chamber sat
Lucy, nothing doubling nouhing fearing. She
was already clad in a simple white muslin, and
her few bridal adornments lay on the table by
her side. Maria Allen her second bridesmaid
bright-eyed, Northumberland girl, her
chosen friend from childhood, was arranging to
more graceful fall, the wealth oflight ringlets
which swepther snowy neck. To the anxious
inquiries other companion, respecting the alb
sent ones, Lucy ever smiled quietly and re-
piled:
ooh, something has happened to detain them
awhile-we heard from them the other day. and |
all was well. They well be here by-and-by,
never fear
Evening came, the guest were all assembled,
and yet the bridegroom tarried.' There were
whisperings, surmises and wonderings, and
shadow of anxiety occasionally passed over the |
fair face of the bride-elect. At last a carriage
drove rather slowly to the door. They are
GOMEZ cried many voices and next momeAt
the belated bridegroom and Ellen entered. =
In raolx- tho al and copfuSaI