Wisconsin tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1847-1854, 1849-02-23
f1eal tie Dollar Eews
The q Oung Esi6e.
LEAF FROM AN oLDLETTER.
BY ISABEL ArugLwooD.

| With recollected music tho Il tone
Is changd and solemn, like the cloudy groan
| OF dying thunder On the distant wind
Cbi5de HlrOld
How lifelike thro' the mist Of years
| Each well remembered face appears!
| Spr0gg,e.
| Old letters! Beautifully they come float
ing up Ike golden stars in the moon light OF
Ilnemory Old letters-ah what a world Of
associations cling round them what memo
ries do they not call up from the twilight &
| mist of other years how viii the tears fall
again and again on their time soiled pages,
though the hand that once penned these lines.
and the heart that throbbed above them may
long ago have been hushed-mouldsrin in
the dust and ashes Of the silent grave-or per
haps that heart if it stin beat, throbs not for
thee-is cold orestranged, perchaoce-a light
word or thoughtless syllable may have rusted
out the golden chain binding thee to another
"a false friend may have whispered a pois-
oned word, or time may have crypt in and
severed early friendship. Yet all 10 not
old letters come back like dim messengers
from the grave, breathing of the loved and
lost Do they not fall like SILVER droppings
on thy heart, wearing out its barshness p
or like starlight in a misty sky, do they not
CLEAN upon thy soul, whispering that lore is
stronger than absence or death
All! cherish them, then, for they are gol-
den links TO bind thee to the past-do act burn
do not destroy them, for perchance if thy
heart should grow hard or cold in the great
battle Of life, they will come like whispering
spirits TO reproye thee-Iike rose leaves ill
ed with dew to bind upon thy heart.
Old letters here they are beside me-
time worn, dim, yet oh, how dear, old letters
la this holy twilight, d ar reader, with the
moonlight breaking through the linden out
there, come bend with me over these sad re-
ofother years.
Here IS one-the clear, handwriting has
grown almost illegible, warm tears have stail-
ed over its fair surface. Poor Kate Dudley
her barque went down On stormy sea
This one with the white rose-leRves trem
bling il its delicate folds, is from bright
eyed gil who died weary and n-hearted
ia a foreign Iand-and here is another-iny
brave cousin Harry's writing, truIy--his fare
well words to cousin Bel on the eve Of his
eparture-gazing on the bold, free lines, we
could not guess, dear reader, that the eye
once bending over this, closed amid shouts of
victory when the red field was won," OF
that the free hand oace resting on these folds
was empurpled with its own lf,-5lood il that
fearful death struggle.
Brief brave and glorious was his young
recr.'
That cluster yo1der, bound with the white
ribbon, are droppngs from the heart Of one
who died little while ago upon my bosom
whose blue eyes looked in the depths Of my
own till the calm light was forever shut out
whose struggling breath watched through
that dim night. tiI I knew the spirit had
peacefully huttered back to the bosom Of God.
And here is one fragrant as roso-leaC--it IS
from the peerless girl you viii meet tonight
at the theatre, or to morrow ON the prone
throbbed hundred times against mine own
a light word, breath from the lips ola pre-
tended friend served to chill the warm blood,
and so this little memento is all that remains
to remind me Of other days. Here, too, are
some blistered over with burning tears, bat
may not tell you of these-but come we TO
tais dim, faint, tear stained little one, whose
trembling lines I have kissed a thousand,
thousand times. Beautiful, is it not! though
vou can scarce decipher its contents, and this
little ring Of sunny hair nesting in its time
d.mned folds-this little curl o golden brown
severed from the white brow that has long
been the nestling-place Of the cold earth worm.
Sweet Amy Lee shall I tell you the sad
story Of her life ? BY aud by,then, [ viii read
you this tiny hearl-drop after ] have told
YOU the simple history Of her life. But it IS
very sad, dear reader, and those who DO not
love to dive with me in the gloomy waters I'M
dsrneath, if you have followed me thus far
in my wanderiugs. viii love you just as well
if we part here
Out Of the gable window yondeT, if you
thrust aside the whispering leaves and starry
flowers Of the old white rose, you viii see the
home of Amy Lee-tlat pretty cottage down
wonder nesting in the great hollow beneath,
gfrdIed ali around by leafy verdure, and peep
/ lng up out Of the edge Of the old forest, there
/ with its antique, half Gothic walls, like the
nest-home Of a woodland bird.
/ remember, as though 1t were but yester-
day. the bridal morning OF sweet Amy Lee
the calm May morning. with its dew and
flowers, when we woye the orange blossoms
in her golden curls, with our smiles and tears
and knew our young bird was going to try fol
the first time IN the sunny sky before her, th'
wing that through young and joyous life
time had been 50 peacefully folded in tina