The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1847-05-01
arcels of old rugs, herbs, &c.


she gathered in the wood, or by the wny-side.
Her owe ofthese and her sweet voice were
all that were left her the bloom and music
ofeSistence. Yet no,--her meek and child
like piety still fingered. Her God had not
torsakeTher; down into the deep chaos other
spirit, the smile of His love yet cleaned faint
ly-in the waste garden of her heart she still
heard His voice M eventide, and she was not
'atraid." Her Bible went with her every
where,-a torn andsoled volume, but as hol-
Y STILL and it may be as deurly cherished, my
reader, as the gorgeous copy now lying
on your table, bound in "purple and in gold"
and with the gliding untarnished upon its
delicate leaves.
remember to have heard my motherrcate
II touching little incident connected with one
ofLucy's brief visits to us.
The poor creature once laid her hand on
the curly head Of one of my brothers, and
asked ofhm his name. civilian Edwin"
he replied, with timid upward glance. She
caught away her hand, and signing heavily,
said, as though thinking aloud, 81 knew an
Edwin once, and he made me broken heart
edn
This was the only instance in which she
was known TO revert 10 the sad event which
had so desoIatcd her life.
Thirty years from the time the commence
ment of this mournful history, on a bleak au-
tumnal evening,u rough country wagon drove
into the village ofC-. 1t stopped nj
the alms-housc, attenuated form was
lifted out, and carried in, and the wagon
rumbled away. Thus lCas Lucy Dutton
brought 10 her naiive torn 10 die.
She had been in II decline for some months
and the miraculous strength which had SO
long sustained her in her weary wanderings,
at last iorsook her utterly. Her sister had
died some time before, aud the widowed
husband had soon after removed with his
/ family to the far Wcst;-so Lucy had no
/ friends, no home but the alms-house.
| BIT they were very kind TO her there. The
matron, II true woman, whose soft heart even
/ the hourly contemplation of human misery
could not harden, gave herSelfwith unweary
/ ing devotion TO the care ofthe quiet sufferer.
| With the eye of Christian faith, she watched
the shattered bark ofthat life as borne down
the tide of time it ncared the great deep Of G.
teruity, with an interest as intense as though
| it were Il royal galley.
One day, about week from the limo OF
! her arrival, Lucy appeared TO suffer greatly,
aud those about her looked for her release al
most impalieutly:but ut night she was evident
" better. and for the first time slept tranquil
| ~ until morning. The matron, who was by
her bedside when she qSyoke, was startled by
the clear and earnest gaze which met her
own, but she smiled and babe the invalid good
morning. Lucy looked bewildered, hut the
voice seemed to re -assurc her, and size eX-
claimed
ooh what long. long night this has been!"
Then glamcing around enquiringly,sh added
"Whcre am l?-und who are you? do not
know YOU
A wild surimise flashed across the mind of
I.,y
En- had returned! But the good woman replied
calmly aud soothingly.
"Why, you are among your friends, and
you will know me presently"
'Then may be you know Edwin and Ellen"
rcioned the invalid; have they come? Oh;
had such terrible dream dreamed that
they were married! Only think Ellen married
to Edwin!-tis strange st!oud dream that"
"My poor Lucy" said the matron, with
guSh oftcars, "thdt was not dream-'twas
all true
"All true" cried the invalid, then, edwin
must be Wtrue-and that cannot be, for lie
loved me-we loved each other WELL and Ell
len is my sister. Let me see thcm-I will 90
to theGl."
She endeavored to raise herself but fell
back flaming on the pillow.
"Why, what does this mean:f said she,
''what makes me so weak?'
"Just then, her eye fell on her own hand
tha, old and withered hand! She gaged OH
it in blauk anaZemeut.
"Something is the matter with my sight,"
she said, smiling GAntly, "for my hand looks
10 me like an old wonlan's."
"And so it is, said the matron, gently, "&
so is mine; and yet we had fair, plump hands
when we We're young. Dear Lucy, do you
not know me: ] am Maria Alen-l was to
have been your bridesmaid"
can no more viii not make the vain ut
tempt to give in detail I'LL that mourntul' re-
veang-to reduce 10 ineXpresslve words the
dread sublimity ofthat hopeless sorrow.
To the wretched Lucy the last thirty years
were all as though they had never been. OF
not scene. not an Incident, had she the
slightest Remembrance, since The night when
the recreant lover and the traitoress sister
stood before her, and made their terrible an
nouncement,
The kind matron paused frequently in the
sad narrative of her poor friends madness &
wanderings, but the invalid would say with
fearful calmness, ego on, 90 on" tho beaded
drops ofagony stood thick upon her forehead.
When she asked for her sister, the matron
replied,
"She kas gone before you, and your father
also"
Sand my mother" said Lucy, her face lit
with sickly ray OF hope.
"Your mother has been dead for ttcenty
gears"
"DeaH All gone! Alone, old, dying. Oh
God, my cup of BITTERNESS is full" And she
wept aloud.
Her friend, bending over her, and mingling
tears with hers, said aflectonately:
"But you know who drank that cup before
YOU"
Lucy looked up with a hewidered ex-