Litchfield enquirer., 1848-02-24
MTlSGEILIiA h
MARY HOWTTT,

thought that her writings would soon be-
 come dull and monotonous, aud yet she writes more and, more,v and everything tshe.writes issinstructiye and beautiful, ma king us think her pure mind is as fertilein producing noble thoughts as Nature IS iL bringing forth the leaves, flowers, and innu- merab!e forms of lUvelineSs. This story is given in the September number of Howit1's Journal. We'6nd it in the Louisville Ex> aminer. It is about A poet and his little daughter3 sta7@ -aI tc -.s Sr9 fsaEsss
 There they are of, a June morning, where roses, and yellow jasmine covered tile old wall, and the blackbira alott in, the broad> leaved sycamore, was singing. as if he was out of his senses for joy--a6d SNature and art conspired to make all glad. It was the poets own garden. T@'' % NY
 1 Was he happy? Did content smile up+ on and bless him? Was his, spiritip ii | har I mony with the placed It was clouded with sad and bitter though,s-his Was oppress> ed-he had been disappeihted-where he had hoped for good, he found evil. And as his little daughter ran up to him to tell about .he little charity children, fall of sym palhy. herself, and sure of finding it in him. she heard hima say to neighbor:s .,..r sNo, I have no hope of human nature now-i, is poor, miserable thing, thatis not worth working for. My best endeavors Rhave been spent in it's service-my youth and my manhood's strength-my very life and this. is my reward! Twill no longer strive 10 do good. will work for moneys sake as others do-and not for the good of mankind!' sa.I.'} The poets words were bitter, and tears came in the eyes of his best friend. New, CT had the child heard such words from her father before-he had been to her hitherto as great and good angel. a,aH
 'Iwill work said he for moneys sake, as others do. and not for the good of mankind My fa,her, if you do,' said the child, in voice of mournfIl indignation, will trample all your WI itings under my feet! Large tears. rolled down cheeks. and her eyes were fxedzupoa her father's face. x
 Tho poet took the child in his arms and kissed her-an angel had touched his heart, and he could forgive hisbiiter enemies.
 4a'Iwll tell you something, my child,' said he, in his usual mild voice. .@ The child leaned her head against his breast, and lis tened. Once upon a time a man lived in a great wide wilderness, he was poor man, and worked very hard for his bread-he lived in the cave of rock, and because the sun shone burning hot into the cave he twined roses, and jasmines, and honey suck
 les all around it-and in front of it, and in the lodges of the rock, he planted flowers and sweet shrubs, and made it very pleasant. Water ran gursling" from Assure in the lock into iille basin. whence it poured ia gentle streams throagh h his garden, in which grew all kinds of fruits. Birds sung in the tall trees which Nature herself had planted; and little squirrels, and lovely green lizards l with bright, Intelligent eyes, lived in the 1 branches and among the flowers. All would have gone well with the man, had not evil spirits taken possession of his cave-they troubled him night and sday--ihey dropped canker blight upon his roses. nirped off his jasmins anl honey ysnckle flowers, and in the farm of a caterpi'ler and blight, ate his l beautiful fruits. It made the man angry 1 and bitter--the flowers were no longer beau> tiful to him, and when he looked at them l he thought only of the canker and the cat- erpiller. 4 can no longer take pleasure in them,' said he, will leave the cave and go elsewhere. He did so, and he travelled on and on--but it vast wilderness in which he was, and so it was many and manya day before he came to place of rest, no: did he know that all this tune the evil spirits who had plagued him so ia his own cave, were still going with him--but they were--and they made every place where he came to seem worse than the last-their very breath cast a blight upon, everylhing. He, was foot-sore and weary and very miserable. A feeling like despair was in his heart, and he said he might as well die as liVe--he lay down in the wilderness, and scarcely had
 he done that, when he heard behind him
 the, pleasanlest soaAd in the world--a Itle
 child singing like bird because her hear
 was innocent and full-o joy--the next mo
 meut she was at his side. The evil spirils
 that were. about him. when they saw he' : coming, drew back little, for she brough with her beautiful company of angels ant brigh, spirits, little chernbs, with round, TO ] sy cheeks, golden hair and laughing eyes
 stuck between i've doves' wings as white a.
 snow. The. child had nos the least ide; that these beautiful spirits always wer abont her-all she knew was. that she va I A -H Al. Il akravSA q