The northern tribune. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1847-1855, 1848-03-11

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| But the canker was gnawing at her heart
she had drank of the bitter cup, and life
henceforth to her was but as a dream of bite,
and untold misery. ..s..-
The cricket on the hearth began to chirp his
little song as a painful sigh came from her
lips, and tried his best to make her happy
He had kept her company three long, long
weary nights, and the chirpings of its little
throat were the only pleasant sounds that
broke upon her ear.--Another sigh s
The Pickering Goals on the broad hearth all
at once seem to take new life, and snap and
sparkle away as if they really could get up a
! fre-and wanted to show it-Another sigh
| Shadows dance and play upon the wall right
merrily, trying to keep time with the cricket
and the fire.
The wind comes moaning through the crew
ices, but goes out again, as if afraid to remain
| with SO much sorrow. Over the hills and
| through the tall trees, it carries its mournful
song, and every echo answered back, in wall
ing tones, its lamentation.
| A smile, sweet smile stole over the face Of
the young babe, as it, waking, raised its bright
blue eyes, and dallied its tiny fingers in the
tresses of its mothers hair. Whole years of
happiness came back with that one look, and
for moment the hours of merry childhood.
come stealing back /; those happy hours, when
the future looked SO bright and beautiful, and
when all things were painted with the glowing
colors Of innocence and truth. Deep In her
heart were those old time memories seated,
and like withered flowers blooming into life,
they came back gently to her heart. The old
homstead-with its sloping roof and small
windows, all fragrant with wild flowers and
forest vines-the green glade by the mountain
lake, the summer garden, with its perfume of
untamed luxuriance, and the sweet scented
violets that burst from the moss along the
path that leads to the village church-all
came back in tenfold beauty. There were
faces, too, about that old homstead-k
familiar faces-and with the memory rose q
mothers smile, and the sound of fathers
| blessing, and sisters joyous laugh came
back as in those happy days. Brighter grew
the glow on her cheek as she thought Of these
old time memories, and she pressed her babe
| closer and closer to her bosom. But with
those fond associations was one burning,
bitter thought, that chilled her warm blood,
and racked her brain to madness. Twas of
he who had charmed her with the murmur-
ing music of the snake, and bound her to his
slightest look or tone. Twas of him who
had early won her girlish affections, when
her soul was free and stainless as the hottest
| angel around Gods throne; and when not
single evil thought or passion throbbed in the
pulses of her virgin blood. ooh! that l
were with them in the quiet grave" she
family murmured, pressing her lips to the
young child's cheek. 81 did not dream, I
never, never thought that it would come to
this. Would to God that might be taken to
their happy home, for l cannot, cannot en-
dure this age of agony. Father, mother,
sister, brother,-those words how dear, but
how strange to me! The deed of shame is
written on my brow, and am an outcast, and
base, vile thing for ever. 1t seems but
yesterday that my mother pressed warm
kiss upon my cheek, and now, to-day, am
the toy of him who will not call me wife J"
There was fearful look in her countenanee,
as she spoke-a look of wild despair, mingled
with suffering and agony.
| The young child gazed sweetly in its
mothers face, and with its little fingers touch
ed her softly on the cheek.
| Oh, you that have indnlged in a mothers
smile from the holy hours of infancy, and
never knew what pain or sorrow were, how
little do you dream of, the agony and remorse
that thrilled her very soul.
cts but a moments suffering she said,
looking fondly at her babe, but one pang.
and this troubled bosom would be at rest
forever. IT'S fearful thought to die, and
vet it is more fearful to live this life of
misery in cold and cruel world-my child
no, no, cannot leave YOU"
Her breath came in gasps, and there was
moment of fearful thought.
"No, no, cannot do deed like that" she
cried, "God forgive me such wickedness."
The words had scarcely died upon her lips
before the latch of the oaken door was lifted,
and young man, rudely dressed, stood upon
the threshold, gazing upon her with stare of
wonder. His face was very pale, his look
haggard, and his lips trembled as if with
convulsive notion"
"Grace !"
The name fell sternly from his lips, and
his dark eyes flashed, as he stepped forward to
meet her.
Che Eoew tho voice and tremhlinplv turned