Daily American telegraph., 1851-12-24
Ii E p A II / E N II.
BY MARY IRVING.
ruApTEp r

What world Of heart-breaking that one
wee word will have to answer for Like the
small, light arrow of olden warfare, it pierces
where heavier weapon would rebound dividing
the cuirass of the soul. 1t is the first word that
falls like cold Maidstone on a babes spirit,
fresh from the bowers of innocence, curling its
lip, and convulsing its tremulous, tiny hand,
checked in the eager grasping at mamma's0
collar or watch. It is the spell that wakes all
the wilfulness of the older child, arrived at the
age of unreasonableness, when thwarted in his
darling plan of an afternoons cunning"
And farther still on the way of life, where we
learn to calm the surface-swellngs Of the souls
troubled waters, how often that word "No!N
sinks into their depths like a fiery meteor, to
dry up the sweet fountain of love and life, or
turn it all into bitterness 1t is the lesson of
lifetime to understand that word--to read the
veto Of omnipotent love in the most naughty or
careless prohibition or denialofa fellow mortal
to "be patient wait, and trust; for the watch
word of heaven will not be "No!"
| 1t is harsh enough when, sweetened with the
honey-dew Of tenderness, it drops reluctantly
from loving lips-harsher when it is hurled from
the mouth Of authority, like o hot shot from a
cold cannon's mouth. But is it not most harsh,
most frigid, when it drops from the lips Of in
difference, falling upon the grave of hearts
hope?
| How often is the whole of hearts hope
bound up in the little query with which we
commenced! If such a heart can resist the
force of the cold, short, business-like "Non
| that falls from the lips, Of the unsympathizing
post-boy, it may bid defiance to all the remain
| ing miseries Of this world. Pandora has no
| poison for it. - s
/ have seen strong man turn away from
the post-ofice counter with a thunderbolt in his
brow that seemed ready to blight the fair face
OF nature in it's bursting / have seen school
boy in a strange land swallow the sob he was
ashamed to own, while his,less meek play-fellow
turned on his heel with a muttered oath,
have seen mother come forth. with haggard
| face, written all over by anxiety and suspense
that she was too much abstracted to hide from
| the gaze Of the stragglers loafngo about the
door, benches. have seen q home-sick little
| girl-and larger one, too-burst into tears of
uncomfortable disappointment and all at the
same curt, cruel No!0 have heard more
than this, and will tell it to YOU
Below the mountain ranges of Vermont and
| New Hampshire lies tract of hill country,
| rather picturesque than grand. Though sprin-
| kled with rocks, and scanned with granite
lodges, it is green and fourishing enough to be
| beautiful at least in the eyes of New Eng
lander As rode through one of its grass
| grown gorges, upon summers evening, a
| friend pointed out to me huge, square, an
tque-looking house, with six gables, (if rightly
remember) which sat like an alien, far from
neighbors, on a slight "rise" at our left 1t
was an old country house, built probably, be-
| fore the Revolution-such a one as is q rare
| sight among those hills, which were first settled
| by men too poor and too busy to aspire to more
| than simple remove from the primitive "wig
| wan" of their aboriginal predecessors. The
old house was nearly buried in a little wilder
ness of its own and as we rode leisurely past
| it. its front frowned out darkly from the shadows
of cypress-like pines and blooming lilacs, that
were huddled in strange confusion around it.
| AS relic of the middle ages" of our States,
| it had its interest to me but that interest was
trebled by story had heard about its dwellers,
in childhood.
Major &, the owner once Of all the
goodly fields that roll and stretch away from
this mansion into distant perspective, was the
son of a General not slightly distinguished in
American history. His own title had probably
been something more honorable than the mill
tary prefix fastened so often, nowadays, in
country villages upon the names of peaceable
republicans. His laurels could hardly have
been bloodless ones He was a rich man,
proud as he was rich, and stern as he was
proud. Few, perhaps, had frmer foundation
to rest the pride of birth upon, of the dwellers
among his native hills But his pride was q
haughtiness that made him feared and hated
by the simple towns-people whom he despised.
His name became a synonyme for aristocracy,"
word scarcely less hateful than treason " to
the sturdy Democrats then so lately emanc-
pated from the rule of British provincials.
He had several sons and daughters "born
ip his own image" of pride They mingled
with the common horde" indeed, and conde-
scended to the brisk business of life. But they
were stately, ceremonous and reserved, bend
ing their heads in the common breeze like tall
pines in forest of underground, never reach
| ing the level of those about them-seldom Civ
| ing, and never asking sympathy
One, at least wore her pride like princess.
She was beautiful-darkly, haughtily beautiful.
When she came into the old family pew, of a
Sunday morning more than one pair of eyes
and lips forgot the strictness of puritanical de-
corum, and others besides the admiring chill
dren whispered behind their fans, "what a
beauty % To be sure, the elders of the con-
grcgation shook their grave heads, and said that
no good could come out of a child brought up
with such high notions;" but they could not
hate her in their hearts.
| She was seldom seen elsewhere, unless by
some child or chance stroller, under the elm
arches or pine-spires OF the forest, wandering
all alone by herself and smiling on the intruder
her beautiful smile so proudly as to repel all
companionship. Then too, upon almost every
sunny day she might be met miles away, upon
some of the stony roads winding among the
fields and orchards mounted on a spirited bay
pony-sometimes following in the wake of the
family carriage, but oftener alone, sweeping
the air with her nodding, black plume, and
glowing in the brightness Of health and ex-
ercise.