The Middlebury galaxy. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1848-1850, 1848-03-14

quarrel. Strange that, after weeks Of fondness,
after our daily wanderings in wood and mead
ows-atter we had christened every green
bank that the brooks baptized, and consecIa-
ted every shaded knoll with some memory OF
love-after all glad influences Of earth and
sky had bound our hearts together little
word of jealous anger should have had power
to burst the bonds ard free us from our sweet
slavery.
But so it was. Long we sat together in
the twilight, one October evening, whispering
bright dreams Of the future, promising never
to be parted, and vowing that doubt, ard
change, and coldncss, should never enter our
true hearts; and, some twelve short hours
thereafter, banished lover, with an empty
stomach, and, as | fancied, an empty heart,
was packed close in corner of the Old Col
ony stage, and fastening towards the new a.
thcns.
1t was dreary day, the dismalest since the
deluge. One of winters Texan Rangers, a
New England north-eaSter, had got the better
! of brave old autumn" and was fast banishing
bird and 1ower-cverything that dared TO
wear look of cheerfulness-from his masters
new dominion. Il was not 4 day for rejecting
on deeds that need repentance. The rain
tricklcd down the closed windows, and hid the
world from my sight. The passengers were
gloomy and silent, as at funeral. II one
spoke, it was with 4 sigh and a shudder. The
wind howled through the gaping crannies Of
the stage, like discmbodied spirit. The mud
fell on the roof, with the dull sound of clods
upon coffin, and, long before we reached
Quincy bridge, had repcnted most bitterly
Of my hasty and foolish anger.
1t was not for pride that l did not turn back.
NJ l.. 1 IL, -
an cast wind brings humility On that DAY
Lucifer himself might Lave been dragged a.
bout ike a whipped dog. No, pride was not
could renew our old sympathy. The bitter
words we had spoken must always remain
barrier between cur hearts. The ragecdcst
remnant Of common sense would have taught
me that We had quarrced only because we
were ~ little lower than the angels THAT Kate
was under the same cloud that shrouded me,
and that 4 quick return, one kiss, one word OF
love, would heal the wound forever.
But it is not permitted that love and COM
mon SENSE shall dwell together in mems brains,
and 50 held my course, gloomily thinking OF
ail that had CHANGED since | travelled that
road before; of the new wishes, and pleasures,
and Lopcs, that, since then, had sprung up in
my heart, and Of the sudden storm that had
blasted them all.
Turn back, dear reader with those thoughts
mine, pray thee.
Just before the Indian Summer, my rood
friend, Frank Russell, had prom ised Inc i fort
! nights shooting in the Old Colony-lor thus
;ondly do the good people Of Plymouth name
heir weather-worn country. We were to
.i>t his uncle, the Colonel and much he boast
ed TO my willing ear Oh the old gentleman,
hospitality. Something there was, too. in
praise OF his cousin Hates beauty, but that
minded less. We were llearly ready for
'ur journey, when suddenly Satan or Menus
n some o.her Of the subtcrraneans, crazed
/ Franks governor with vain hope that his
soa might make something in the world If he
ut loose from his old aSso, ations. STeediy
% CON this into reality, he shipped poor Frank
1nwarned, without one farewell call, or part
my supper. TO New ork. there, from the bad
'minenve Of Il stool i'll Front street, 10 wing
rs Eight to usefulness, distinction, and a
plum.
| | was not to he baked of my sport, and a
| lay or two after Franks disappearance,
mounted the Plymouth stage, beside Ben
Stebbins, the driver, and started down the
road - the decent rate of about six miles an
hour.
Speed is reckoncd by miles and minutes on
thar routc, now-a-days but the ''xay of life
was then pleasant walk-not the steeplc
;hase that steam las made it sinre Sensible
people were laughing at the vagaries of mad
cap fellow, named Fulton, who pretended to
have made boat move without oar or sail
Old sca-dogs waaged their heads and reckcned
that she went down the stream.
We pay dearly for these new inventions
that men find out, and, for steam. we have
bir;ered away 4 race Of great-souled men.
vclept staSe-drverS; universal philanthropists.
! different in mark and number from those of
our bad days; men whose hearts had no or-
portunity to close, whose daily business it was
10 ride chatting and laughing stealing secret
kisses, learing kind messages, and dropping
love letters and presents of game & city finerv
through miles of sunny woodland
But, alas for the noble craft The men of
the long whip and the many coats, the oraclcs
of the way-side inn, the rulers of the world-if
all the worlds a stage"-are fast passing a.
way. Yet they are booked Tor glorious i'm
mortality ~ heir lines have fallen in pleas
ant places" Tony Weller will keep the road
I'LL the last pike is paid, and the last man
set down in Paradise
Of this race, so full of the milk of human
NiiiAiiN7'' DNA ADtSbiiuS WIS. ike or JOnn,
the very butter. Still more like Sir John. he
was five fingers thick upon the ribs and, in
all that goodly frame, there was not nerve OF
muscle that did not vibrate with good humor
Well was it for me, that soon appropriated 2
niche IN his heart 10 myself.
The CoionePs house was but few miles from
Plymouth Ben pointed it out to me rs We
approached, and, peering through the rows Of
lofty elms that hid it from the road. NV eve:
fell on a lovely girl, who was fastening to-
: wards us; her long dark curls blown back frcn
her flushed checks, and her eyes sparkling,and
of that deep brown that has no counterpart in
nature, no ravens wing, or summer sky, tc
help the poets to smile, and so has passed
unsung by the passionate tribe.
THAT ares the Colonel's darter," said Ben
a fact which l had guessed many second be
fore. 1t was the first time that ever woman:
beauty had quickened my heart, and, in mo-
ment, had wished Frank father life time
It'll