Iowa capitol reporter. [volume] (Iowa City, Iowa) 1841-1855, 1849-09-19
Failing lsl Love.
BY GRACE GREf NWooD:

Albert Morris was young Phil
adelphian of family, wealth, fine tai
ent, considerable beauty, and mira
BILE dictu! with all these an honest,
feeling heart, actue sensibility, and
pure, correct moral principles.
1t CHANGED that one sunny after
noon IN October, this unexceptiona-
bic young hero ofours was sauntering
down Chestnut ST., in istless, Or
rather unhappy mode, his brows
lowering and his eyes glancing about
with look of restless discomfort.
Now what possible trouble or an
noyance could come nigh so charm
ing and fortunate young man? He
had but lately returned from long
summer tour, somewhat overwearied
with pleasure and excitement; and
with the querulous qatibono of safety
upon his lips; but he had come home
to pleasant family circle, wherein
he had once found his greatest hap
piness. All, l may as well tell the
secret of his heart, though he at that
time had never told it there was
one who had not returned from her
summer journeying to her city home,
one whose society he missed there
though the loss had not pressed heav-
lily on his spirits elsewhere. Now,
to walk alone where he had often
with her, or to visit those places of
amusement whittier he had been
wont to accompany her, filled him
with feelings of unrest and loneliness
absolutely oppressive.
He began to perceive that if not
actually in love, he was on the
dreamy confines of that enchanting
realm, taking in the first Intoxicating
breathings Of its delicious atmos-
phere. He felt that there was
young plant hid far down in his heart,
nourished long by the rich soil of
poetry and the pure dew of romance,
which needed but to have the clear
sunlight of sympathy let in upon it to
take deep, warm, color and expand
tHto STdClOuS HOWeT.
Morris had first met Miss Atwood
at brilliant party given in her honor
on her return from Europe, where
she had spent nearly two years and
he was first delighted to find that,
unlike most tourists, she would con-
verse without letting her sentences
of good, hearty English, become dis
jointed by German,go off into spasms
of French, or faint away in Italian.
Miss Atwood was an undeniable
beauty, and bell of much celebrity.
Her tast in dress was exquisite,
though rather on the magnificent
order. She had many accomplish
ments, keen wit, and some genius;
so it is little wonder that, as far as
she had revealed herself, she had
been enchanted by the poetical and
somewhat impossible Albert Morris.
1t was spring when they first met,
and before they both left the city for
the summer, dreams wondrous pleas
ant, in which the peerless belle
always appeared became perilously
frequent with him and in the day
time | am not sure but that his own
beloved sister, once his daily com
panion, but now married to an army
officer. and immured in fort on the
frontier, where alone grand scenery,
select library, fine band, charm
ing husband and cherub child, pre-
served her from dying of emma,
And Miss Atwood? Why, she
smiled sweetly on all he said or did
and bent herself towards him slightly,
very slightly, from the pedestal of
her pride. With most comfortable
faith in her own irresistibleness, she
evidently considered the heart of
every man she met as kind of fruit
very ripe and very soft and only
waiting the possible shake on her to
fall into her hand or at her feet.
But let us return to that walk of
our hero's down Chestnut street.
Suddenly he gave an eager look