Semi-weekly Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1851-1852, 1851-05-30
Alice Glen.


an old worn chase, in which was seated :
young man, a fragile looking creature, with
cadayerous cheek and hollow eyes, that glis
tened fearfuly with each roll in the socket
The loose fold of garment that hung over hi.
form betrayed its shrunken proportion; his
hands were chdishly folded, with meek air
upon his lap, and his posture, backward sway
ing and listless, indicated extreme exhaustion.
The worn old chase stood before marble
workers shop, where, fronting the door, along
the smoky building, and on all sides, white
shafts, gray stones, and brown slabs uprose
ghastly shapes vet beautiful, with angels and
cRerubs scu ptured thereon, some pictured with
willows, some with doves, some with graceful
urns, many with sorrowful faces of mourners
bending over departed hopes, buried with the
cherished dead in the church yard
1t seemed gloomy stopping place for one
apparently SO near his end; and yet the serene
countenance of the wan invalid was suffused
with a glad, almost holy expression, that soften.
ed its ghastliness and made its sadness more
spiritual. Day after day, as passed, met him
always in the same place, either being assisted
by some friend into the old chaise, or sitting so
listless, yet so patient, waiting the progress of
the laborers engaged with their work around
him.
By chance met friend who knew the in.
valid. mentioned carelessly my opinion of his
apparently hopeless case, and wondered, as
any passing stranger would, who he was, and
what drew him so frequently and statedly to
the shop of the marble. worker
"He is doomed man." replied my compan.
ion, "and being fully aware thathis timeis short,
he is experimenting the work of his own mon.
ument."
was startled, and looked my friend fxedly
in the face. "Tt is bcartless whim," ex.
claimed impatiently, "a living man watching
the progress of his own tombstone"
"No, not heartless," he replied, ttonly singu-
lar" George Bennett, that is his name, was
once young man of good health and good
expectations-by -the,by, that latter was his
ruin in manner; never a more humble, pa
tiently. waiting heir did see, sir, than that
same young man ; but," he added with emph a.
sis, "when his uncle died, and the splendid for.
tune came-6ne fortune and no mistake, sir
he was off and away on the broad road to dis
sipation. Beginning with moderate prodigali-
ty to rid himself Of this golden encumbrance,
L., desires soon knew no bounds. He egradually
threw fthe restraints which once sense OF du.
ty, engendered by mothers pious teachings,
had kept him under, plunged into fashionable
follies, forgot God, ruined a good constitution,
and soon sank all but small portion of his
fine legacy. Poor fellow, in his case the race
,ras TO the swift; but it has ended in his destruc.
ton. Now here comes the romance.
In his humber days he really loved, and en-.
kn (rton snfoII.
gent girl of Scotch Descent one Of the most
amiabie creatures 1 ever knew; but she had
only few thousands, say three at the most, to
bring as wedding dowery. She never doubt
ed his truth, nor would she believe the least re-
port derogatory to his reputation All! we'll,
but women are loving and forgiving creatures"
soliloquized my friend with an absent air, Che
was bachelor,) and for full three minutes he
WAS silent.
"Did he ever marry her2" l asked with
concealed feeling of impatience.
"Never;" he exclaimed abruptly, no; he
went to Philadelphia, dangled arounda few gold
Ell satellites from thence to Europe, came back 10
the States, paid court to lady OF wealth, and
would willingly have welded her, but did not,
for the very good reason that she learned to de-
spse his character.
After an absence Of three years he visited
Boston again, wreck in body and fortune. l
met him first, and well remember how heavily
he leaned upon my side as we walked together
through the old familiar thoroughfares. He
said nothing about his prospects or dsappoint:
ments, but talked of various subjects, mostly Of
politics and Europe, till we by merest accident
stood opposite the old ground-you remember,
Copp's Hill.
forgot to say that too had been for many
months absent. Bennett expressed wish to
walk through, and did it not seem strange that
he made pause, from very weakness and wea-
riness, opposite small, smooth, white stone,
that was familiar to neither Of uss and when
would have led him farther on, he pushed aside
the long, damp grass, and fell to coming the
inscription.
Judge ofmy surprise, as well as his remorse,
when | read the following:
Sacred to the memory
ALICE GLEN,