The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1851-10-16
IBlJsDURG. llBER Il. 1851.

| at ful speed towards the scene of hawkifls
/ But the rare old sport had lost for me grss
part of its attraction. I had heard vo1e
more thrilling than the halo; and now, tlras.
perhaps by the merry jingle OF the bells t.
chains, or the noisy hustle of departure, ~
daughter of the old gypsy gently openea
! door and descended From the wagons aT5T 4.
gentle notes, before / knew it, came wes :
into rly eay IA Kild arsitzsrg nlasies.ss, Sss.ss
/ she sung some plaintive verses in the same
| strange language / had heard in the mornine
| turned quickly, and she stood almost at my
shoulder. 1t was like form from the East, a
. the heroine Of sad ballad of the Moors in ther
last days at Grenada! Nay, it was Madonna
of AIurillo, with those melancholy, hopeful fe5-
lures that look down upon you with all modesty
and the holy enthusiasm of a mothers ten
derness!
She stood, picture-like moving the lower
chords of her guitar, her large eyes resting
mournfully on me, while her voice echoed its
despair in my heart. l never understood any
song so little, and never have 1 felt one so
much 1t was her whole history-her heart
/ breathed into sound 1t was from no law of
physiognomy that l comprehended her, and
from gesture, for she stood as still as marble,
her eyes scarcely moving from me. But there
was that-a soul-in them that surpassed all
motion, all change Of expression-a perpetual
sorrow, sacred ointment of unhappiness. She
was not more than seventeen, and the melan-
choly which sufused her features was rather
the tendency Of her nature than the impress of
misfortune. There was n refinement in her be-
ing which could not ccustom itself to the vulgar
relations forced upon her, and their shadows
were wrought into the ineaments Of her tender
, beauty l would gladly describe this, but ii was
Of kind which no one may express; her eyes,
Ike her brothers, were dark and lustrous; they
were not piercing, but eloquent and winning;
her forehead was high and symmetrical, the nose
thin and tenderly moulded, her chin had the
mere impress of a dimple, and heF.SiPs beauty
not dependent on yoluptuousness. ff+f hair was
partly concealed by scarlet scarf wound round
her head with no studied care, and q few tresses
fell over the ea., and were brought round be-
hind in a knot. Such is the description, but of
what ayail?-
''To such see thee not my words are weak;
To those who gaze thee what language could
they speak?"
The same traits may produce a thousand differ
ent faces, bat | have never seen but one like
that The refined spirit of her being beamed
! through the forms of her beauty, and softened
! them TO the expression of seraph. AS it is
! beyond the power of the artist to reproduce the
soul of the Cenci, so it seems that Nature had
but one form of lOveliness and gave it to the
! gipsy's daughter. Her dress was simple, and
became her difident mien and manner.
Before she finished the plaintive air, she must
have remarked the pleasure it had given me,
/ for, without my speaking, she seemed to rouse,
1 as it were, the slumberous instrument to n more
vigorous tone, and sang again with, indeed, more
energy, but with the same prevailing sadness.
| The melody seemed to express a lament but not
one of despair. 1t rose and fell with the fitful
variation of passion, at times low and mourn
! full, again startling and resistless. Her eyes
frightened the wall of the music grew louder !;
her bosom moved with an effort not occasioned
| by the exertion of her voice; and on a sudden
a gush of tears bedimmed the light in her eyes,
and her notes trembled till inaudible. But in a
moment she again collected herself, and said to
me, ''You sad l will sing you gayer mu-
! sic" And while the tears still hung in her
eyelids, smile shone through them like light
into dewdrops and she played lively strain,
and sang to it merry ditty, like those one hears
in the south of France Ere she had finished
it the carriage was ready, and my friend, who
retained more self-possession, urged on me the
necessity of departure. The girl ceased at
once, and turned, with smile, to leave, like
one who felt herself in the way. s'But you will
accept this, Signorina?' said I, offering her a
| piece from my purse. @ Il che ID Do gi renda
Jelice' (''May God bless you,') replied she,
| smiling with her peculiar charm, while the tears
stood still in her eyes. 1 never saw her again ;
but / shall never forget her face nor her smile.
| When returned from the hawking she was
gone. I inquired which way they went, and
learnt they had taken the road to Arnheim
g Che IL DiO la reada telice' (NIay God bless her.
was also the wish of my heart She was an
| Italian, another Mignon wandering in the North
A French naval officer of distinction lately
returned from cruise in the Pacific, brought
with him, present to his sister, the complete
costume of an Indian prncess1Ar one of the So
cety Islands. 1t consisted OF, necklacei
|
A writer, in describing the last scene of Othel-
10, has this exquisite passage :-s'Upon which
the Moor seizing bolster t,aH of rage and jeaI-
| su,otbars her