Wisconsin tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1847-1854, 1848-12-29

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ii am always here. | have adopted it 70.
my home, and tried TO make it pleasant one
since have no other.'
All the way home his thoughts were ocea-
/ pied with her; and the memory Of her simple
/ pleasant ways often required to aim amid the
noises Of the city. He would easily have
forgotten her In that stage Of their acqualn-
/ lance, had any beautiful heiress happened 70
cross his path; for, though his nature was
kindly, and had a touch CT romance, ambition
was the prominent trait of his character. But
it CHANGED that no woman attracted him very
powerfully, before he again found himself Oil
the winding road where stood the picturesque
little school house. Then came frequent
walks and confidential interviews, which re-
veaed more loveliness of mind and character
than he had previously supposed. Alice was
one of those peculiar persons whose history
sets at nought all theories. Her parents had
been illiterate, and coarse in man1efs, but she
was gentle and refined. They were utterly
devoid of imagination, and she saw everything
in the sunshine of poetry. 'sWho is the child
like2 Where did she get her queer notionsP'
were questions they could never answer
They died when she was fourteen and she,
unaided and unadyised, went into a flctory,
to earn money to educate herself Alternate
~ at the factory and at school, she passed four
years. Thanks to her notable mother, she
was quick and skillful with her needle, and
knew wonderfully well how to make the most
of small means. She travelled along, unnotl-
ced, through the by-paths of life, rejoicing in
birds and flowers and little children, and find
ing sufficient stimulus to constant industry IN
the love of serving others, and the prospect of
now and then pretty vase. or some agreeable
book. First, affectionate communion, then
beauty and order, were the great attractions
to her soul. Hence. she longed inexpressibly
for a home, and was always striving to realize
her ideal in such humble mutations as the
little school house.
The family where she boarded often dispu-
ted with each other, and being Of rude na-
lures, not all AIice's unassuming and oblging
ways could quite atone to them for her native
superiority. In the solitude of the little
school house she sought refuge from things
that wounded her. here she spent most of
the hours Of her life, and found peace on the
bosom Of Nature. Poor, and without person
al beauty, she never drelmad that domestic
love, at all resembied the pattern in her own
mind, was blessing she could ever realize.
Scarcely had the SUFFICE of her heart been
tremulous with even a passing excitement on
the subject, till the day she gathered MOSES
in the wood with George Franklin. When
he looked into her eyes, ID ascertain what their
depth expressed, she was troubled by the ear
nestness of his gaze. Habitually humble,
she did not venture 20 indulge the idea that
she could ever be beloved By hirn. But when
she thought Of his promised visit in autumn,
fair visions sometimes hoated before her, OF
how pleasant life would be in a tasteful little
home, with an intelligent companion. Always
it was little home. None of her ideas par
took of grandeur. She was pastoral poet,
not an epic.
George did come and they had many pleas
Il n and ID
each other with garlands of bright autumnal
leaves. Their parting betrayed mutual ailec-
ton; and soon George wrote 10 her thus:
81 frankly acknowledge to you that 1 am
ambitious, aid had fully resolved never to
marry poor girl. But love YOU so well, !
have 10 choice left. And now in the beauti-
ful lig that daWns upon me, l see how mean
ami selfish was that resolution. and how i'm
polite withal. For is it not happiness we
all seek :! And how happy it will make me
to fulfil your long-cherished dream Of taste
full home | cannot help receiving from you
more than | can give for your nature is rich
I er than mine But | believe, dearest, it Is al
ways more blessed to give than TO receive; ;
and when two think 50 Of each other, what
more need of heavenl
81 am no fatterer, and tell you frankly
was mistaken when first saw you. Uncon-
/ sciously to myself had fallen in love with
I your soul. The Transcript of it which saw
in the vines and the flowers attracted me first;
! then a revelation OF it from the marked book,
the MOSES, and the ferns. [ imagined you
must be beautiful; ami when | saw YOU were
not, did not suppose I should ever think of
you more. But when heared you talk, your
J soul attracted me iFresistibiy again, and |
wondered | ever thought you otherwise than
/ beautiful. Rarely is beautiful soul enshri-
T Il
+ of soul has one great advantage over its frail
! envelop-it need not decrease with time, but
/ ought rather to increase.
/ ''Of one thing rest assured, dear Alice. 1t is
now Impossible for me ever to love another
4 as | love YOU
! When she read this letter, it seemed 70 her
as if she were ia delightful dream. Was it
indeed possible that the love Of an intelligent
cultivated soul was offered to her, the poor IN
/ frended one9 How marvellous it seemed,
that, when she was least expecting such a
i blossom from Paradise, a stranger came and
laid it in the open book upon her desk, in that
4 little schooI-house, where she had toiled with
! patient humility through so many weary hours!
/ She kissed the dear letter again and again
she kissed the initials he had written In the
/ book before he had seen her. She knelt down,
and. weeping, and thanked God that the
great hunger Of her heart for a happy home
was to be satisfied. But when she re-read
+ the letter in cllner mood, the uprightness OF
her nature made her shriak from the prefer
ed bliss. He said he was ambitious. " ouid
! ne not repent marrying a poor girl, without
( beauty, and without social influence Of any
kind Might he not find her soul far less
lovely thaa he deemed it Under the infiu-
ence of these fears, she answered him:
''How happy your precious letter made me,
f | dare not say. Ny heart is like garden
when the morning sun shines on it, after a
long cold storm. Ever since the day we
gathered MOSES in the wood, ven have seem
ed so like the fariest dreams Of my life. that