Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1847-09-23

well remember how the sense OF that mOrn's en-
ceedng loneliness, burdend my heart with sweet
weight, and at last flnglng aside the dull book
which had been attempting to study, caught
my light sun-bonnet, and bounded out of the
house, which outward bloom had suddenly
rendered prison-like. | then turned my steps
toward fine old mansion the home of a very
lovely girl, who had been endeared by years of
constant aud intimate intercourse OF late there
had been FORMED a new tie to bind our hearts
she had become the betrothed of''one Of ours"
favorite cousin, and the engagement was Joyful
event to all concerned
Annie Moore, sweet Anne Moore, how thou
oldest before me, in thy SOFT ETHEREAL oyeliness,
like gentle spirit from hoier cline! With
thy form Of hly-ke grace, tall and fragile
"Whh thy young heads shining bands,
And all its waving curls Of gold"--
with thine eyes of sonest violet and cheek Of
delicaest rose bloom.
g. must think ofthee
Oh gertIest as knew thee well aud long,
young, glad creature with lip of song,
Singing sweet snatches of some favorite tune,
Or wandering by my side beneath the sky of June"
William Gordon, the lover of Annie Moore,
was an exalted, yet a most oveable characer-
an embodiment of intellect, manlness, faithful
affections and fervent piety. He was a young
student of Divinty-had been seCsupported,
almost selfeducaed, and at the time of the com
mencement of this sketch, was in the expectation
of entering upon the ministry in the course OF
a year
And this man, poor, unknown and dcyot-
ed to a holy calling, was the choice Of An
ME Moore, the wealthy, the beautiful, the uxu-
riousIy reared "Twas passing strange" our
worldly ones wondered at and our sewing circles
gosslpped about the matter, tor IA month, or two,
and then the rufled tide of our village flowed
on as usual.-But was on my way to pay An
ME morning visit, William Gordon had called
the night before, to bid us adieu, as he was to
be absent for many months, aud thought his
betrothed might need little cheering up.
found her sitting at her work, as usual, and
but slight RIGHTEOUSNESS Of the voice, and a
gslening of the long brown eye-Iash, told of the
painful parting which had just taken place,
when will William returnr presently in
qured
In May-Iitle less lhan year
and then ??
and then we are to be maried-so hold your
self in readiness to be my bridesmaid,
The summer pascal season of earnest un-
firing and prayerlul toll, with the young student,
and of patient hopeful and sustaining love, on
the part Of his berothed. Then came the chill
autumn, followed by winter of uncommon Sc
verify Our dear Annie, while on night visit
to dying friend, was exposed to a sudden and
fearful storm-took cold-ah does not my read
er anticipate the mournful consequence! Her
mother and elder sister had died Of consumption
and soon, very soon, the seal of death was or
her blue-yeIned brow, and the very voice of the
grave sounding in the hollow cough which SHOOK
her fragile frame. We knew that she must die
and she, unlike many consumplives, knew it also;
yet she was strangely averse to dcquanting her
absent lover with the truth She wrote to him
that she had been W-was still suffering from
debility; but that he must not be troubled about
it, nor painfully surprised by her changed ap.
pearance, when he should return in the spring
Not one word Of the dread, last parting before
them-of the grape, which might
"rival the bridegroom, and take from his side,
To repose in its bosom, his beautiful BRIDE"
At length May came round, again, and will
it returned William Gordon, the young clergy
man. He was bowed to the earth by the grea
and unIooked-lor affection which awaited him
yet meeky drank he the bitter cup, for his Coz
had mingled 1t.
Sweet Annie was passing rapidly from cart
growing more and more fragile in form, an
angelic in spirit, day by day, and poor William
became intensely DESTROYS that their union Nigh
take place. Anne's friends readily assentec
but she, to our surprise, firmly refused to gran
the mourn(u request of her broken hearted 10,
er.
One evening he was sitting alone by her side
as she was half reclining on a couch the het
tic flush was more startlingly bright than usu;
on her cheek, for she had suffered much that da,
and as he thought how very near might be ii
dark wing of Gods dread angel, he took he
wasted hand in his and said
ooh, Annie, let me call you rife, before yo
leave me You would not be so utterly lost
me then, for | would know you bearing that 81
cred name in Heaven Refuse me not, love-
'Oh, William, William, urge me no longer
she replied, lit must not, cannot be. am III
bride of Heaven, you must not be my HUSBAND
and hear me, dearest, you must no longer be nec
me-your love is precious, but it is earthly, an
it comes as a cloud between me and the glori
of that upper world, to which haston,. Yol
voice, my own, is sweeter to me than the hymn
Of the angels, heard in my dreams of HEAVIER