Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1847-12-23

! Its towers crumble to dust. The bell has
lost its silver tone-it is cracked, il is
broken. We will have a new tower,
and another bell shall call US to our
worship"
So the old belfry was destroyed, and
the old bell lay at the foundation. 1t
was grieved at the cruel sentence, but it
scorned to complain it was voiceless.
They came weeks after to remove it
the remains would still be of use but
strive as they would, no strength was
able to raise the bell. 1t had grown pom
derous-it defed them-rooted to the
earth as it seemed.
"They cannot make me leave my
post" thought the bell: will still
watch over this holy spot; it has been
my care for years"
Time passed, and they strove no lon
ger to remove the relic. It's successor
rang clearly from the tower above his
head, and the old bell slumbered on, in
the warm sunshine and the dreary storm,
unmolested and almost forgotten.
The afternoon was calm, but the suns
rays were most powerful. A bright, no.
BILE boy had been walking listlessly un-
der the whispering trees. He was in
high health, and was resting from eager
exercise, for there was flash upon his
open brow, and as he walked he wiped
the beading drops from his forehead.
"Ah, here is the place." he said 81
L.. 4 al II oIoI 10
this pleasant volume" So the youth
stretched his wearied limbs upon the
velvet grass, and his head rested near
the old bell !; but he did not know it, for
there was low shrub with thick serra-
ted leaves and fragrant blossoms spread
irg over it, and the youth did not care
to look beyond.
Presently the letters in his book be-
gan to grow indistnct; there was mist
creeping over the page, and while he
wondered at the marvel, low, clear
voice spoke to him. Yes, it called his
name, " Novalis."
Z" am here" said the lad, though he
could see no one. He glanced upward
and around, yet there was no living
creature in his sight.
Listen" said the voice. 81 have
not spoken to mortal for many, many
years. My voice was hushed at thy
birth. Come, | will tell thee Of it." The
youth listened, though he was sadly
amazed. He felt bound 10 the spot, and
he could not close his earS
"Time has passed swiftly" said the
voice, :" since | watched the children
who are now men and women, at theiI
sports in the neighboring forest. look.
ed out from my station in the old tower
and morning and evening beheld with
Joy those innocent faces, as they ran and
bounded in wild delight, fearless of the
future, and careless of the present hour
They were all my children, for had re.
ioiced at their birth and if it was or
dained that the Good Shepherd early
called one of the lambs to his bosom,
tolled, not mournfully, but solemnly al
the departure. knew it was far better
for those who slept thus peacefully, and
could not sorrow for them.
81 marked one, a fair, delicate girl
who often separated herself from he
merry companions. She would leave
their noisy play, and stealing with he
book and work through the dark ole
trees, would sit for hours in the shadow
of the tower. Though she never CANE
without volume. such an one as jus
now you were reading, the book was of
ten neglected; and leaning her heat
upon her hand, she would remain unit
the twilight tenderly yelled her beautiful
form, wrapt in deep, still musing.
knew that her thoughts were holy ant
pure-often of Heaven, for she woul
raise her eyes to the bending sky, jew
elled as it was in the evening hour, an
seem in prayer, though her lips move
not, and the listening breezes could no
It catch murmured word.
. But the girl grew up, innocent as i
J. her childhood, yet with a roster fius
:. upon her cheeks, and brighter lustr
70 in her dreamy eye. | did not see he
IS so often then, but when my voice on tn
u bright Sabbath morning called those VIII
It love the good Father to come and than
him for his wondrous mercy and good
h ness, she was the first TO obey the sun
s. mons; and | watched the snowy drapt
y ry which she always wore, as it fulte,e
k by the dark foliage, or cleaned in tn
E. glad sunshine. She did not come alon,
r for her grandsre ever leaned upon he
Re arm, and she guided his uncertain step
/ and listened earnestly to the words {
s. wisdom which he spake. Then | mari
d ed that often another joined the grou
IA youth who had been her companio
re years agone, when she was very chill
lie Now they did not stray as then, vii
ID arms entwined, and hand linked
e. hand but the youth supported ii
lie grandsre, and she walked beside hin
II looking timidly upon the ground, and
n by chance he spoke to her, a bright glo
ID would arise to her lips and forehead.
lie "Never did my voice ring out me
er rier bridal than on the morn when the
es were united, before the altar of this vel
he church. All the village reioiced vii