Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1851-09-11

| f''o" ho"iuS IOuuu Iler ueliCdte tnTOdt.
he could not bear to pain her happy heart BY
the sad news of their parting, so he drew
her gently to his bosom for the last time,
while he waited for her fathers return and
they were all alone but the kitten purring in
the sun, and old imagery bustliny ia and out
intent on household cares. They did not
talk much, but now and then she would pass
her hand caressingIy over his face, or he
would bend down and kiss her tenderly. AT
last he said:
81 am going, Miriam. This is the last
time shall see you in many day."
"Golng" she said, echoing the word sor-
rowfully.
"Yes, as told you when the spring first
came. Tomorrow l shall be on my way to
the deep woods and the boundess prairies
Of the western land"
de expected at least burst of passionate
sobs; but she only nestled closer to his heart
and twined her arms more tightly about his
neck.
After little time, she slid from his knee,
still sorrowful, and came back to him holding
little picture. 1t was miniature of herself,
exceedingly liie-Iike, and it had the dreamy,
serious gaze which he had first noticed when
speaking of his mission. This was her limos
cent little secret. II had been painted by a
poor artist, with more talent than friends,
who had his home in the same dark court.
He had thought her so beautiful, that he beg
ged her to sit 10 him, intending surprise to
her father, who, in his transformations way.
had once been of service to his poorer neigh
Dor. That very day she had brought il home
50 she told Paul, and laid it in the book be-
lore him.
And he was pleased" said Paul. "and
kissed you, and thought il was very like you
as do"
81 don't believe he liked it so very much. i.
don't think he likes pictures at ALL" answer
ed the child. ale never looks at my sweet
mother, with the blue dress and rose in her
hair. But he smiled, and told me 10 give it
TO the person loved best ia the world"
And you gave it 10 Margery, perhaps o.
Paul smiled at the thought of bestowing
such gem upon Margery's dark little kilch-
en-.
"No, l don't love her best, and that would
not be right. kept it for you, because there
is nobody but papa and you ever dream
about. Sometimes have such lovely dreams
and think you are never going away. But
you are, and you must take this, and keep it
always. Pm sure you will Paul"
A tear, yes, a tear, fell upon the beautiful
picture-so touched was he by the earnest
ness and sincerity Of her affection, and the
thought that he was so soon to leave her.
Her father came, mild, benevolent look
ing man but, nevertheless, the air of one
who had no strong hopes or desires. He
was sorry to part with his favorite pupil, hut
blessed him in Gods name for he, TOO, had
been "a minister about holy things" and
knew the burning zeal which had filled the
heart of The young deUotee.
The morrow came, aud Miriam was rest
less and sad as the hour for their walk drew
near, and there was no friend to Join her,
Many and many day did she linger at
their old irysting place, her heart beating
fast, if she saw in the distance face or fig
,Ire that might be his. But one day after an
other came and went, and he was not there.
Then she found other friends, and Time was
her consoer.
Years, many years had passed, and the
missionary sat at the door of his rude cabin,
and leaned his weary head against the rough,
unhewn beams for support. He was far old
er, and had detected, sorrowfu air that had
deepened the lines upon his forehead. though
his dark clustering hair had not silvered, and
his eyes still lighted with the fire of manly
thought. Yet the fresh vigor of youth was
spent, and his heart was weary and athirst
for closer sympathy than he had found among
the rude dweIlers of the land Their num-
bers had greatly increased since he first came
among them. and the Indian hauntS had re-
treated from before approaching civilization.
They had prayed him to remain among
them to visit their sick and bury their dead,
and they were kind TO him in their own way.
They had built his cabin and furnished il
with their own rude manufactures, and bro'r
him presents of game from the forest, and
fruit from their thriving farms. Bul, now
the zeal of his first consecraton was spent,
he saw little fruit of oil bis labors the will
derness had not yet blossomed as the rose.
He longed for some one who could sympa-
thize in his ardent desire to do good, and to
encourage him to cast his "bread upon the
waters" He covered bis face with his hands
and prayed. communing with the only in
ieliigence that could read his heart, and then
he looked around him and still sighed.
Perhaps it was that he had seen the cheer
full blaze from the 6reside Of some Of his
people, as he came homewards, and stopped
to speak some playful word with tine urchins
before the door; but, as he sighed, he won-
dered if he could have been happier had he
not denied to his starving. human heart, all
human, household love. Perhaps have
wronged my nature he thought. Il may
not be required Of me to lead this lonely life.
And then-he never could tell what brought
the recollection SO vividly before him at that
moment-there came yearning thought of
the little Miriam of years ago-his child
friend. aa a0- faa lr s .iia aaH
She must be woman now, and beautiful
I