Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1852-01-28

come back 10 thee, and we shall all be
happy again"
"Never, Bertel.-never! When once you
have gone, there is no more happiness for
us. In heaven we may all meet again on
earth, never! O no, never more will you
see in this life either your parents or your
poor broken-hear,ed Amalie i'-and again
her sobs burst forth.
Thorvaldsen abruptly rose from his chair,
and placed the room in agitation. He was
much distressed, and once or twice he glanc-
ed at Amalie with evident hesitation. His
pas. life, the pleasures Of his youth, the en-
deared scenes and friends Of his childhood,
the affection Of Amalie, the anguish of his
parents at the approaching separation, all
vividly passed in review, and whispered
him 10 stay and be happy in the city of his
birth. But vision of Rome rose also, and
beck toned him thilher to earn renown,
wealth, and earthly immortality. The pride
Of conscious genius swelled his soul, and he
felt tina, the die was cast for ever.
| He reseated himself by the side Of ANA
lie, and once more took her hand. She
looked up, and in one glance read his in
most thoughts. "Go,'' said she, ''go and
fulfil your destiny. God's will be done
You will become great man-you will be
the companion of princes and of kings, and
your name will extend the fame of your
country to the ut,ermos. parts of the earth.
] see it all and let my selfish love perish
Only promise this: when you are hereafter
in the full blaze Of your triumph, sometimes
turn aside from the high-born, lovely danes
who are throngirg around, and drop one
tear to the memory Of the lowly Danish girl
who loved you better than herself. Ber,el.
farrell"
The next day Thorvaldsen quilted Copen-
hagen for Rome, where he resided nearly
the whole remainder of his long life, and
more than realized his own wides, aspira-
lions Of fame. But the prophecy of poor
Apale was literally fuIfilled-he never
more beheld his parents, nor her, his first
true love
Nearly half century had elapsed, and
again the scene was Copenhagen. The
streets were densely crowded with eager,
sorrowing spectators, and every window of
every house was filled with sadly-expec,ant
faces. At length the cry, "Fhey come -
was echoed from group to group, and the
crowds swsyed TO and fro under the SYM
pathetic swell of one common emotion.
A wilhered old woman was seated a. the
upper window of a house, and when the
cry was taken up, she raised her wrinkled
countenance, and passed her hands over her
eyes, as though to clear away the mist Of
| more than seventy winters An immense
procession drew nigh. Appropriate military
music precede corpse being conveyed TO
its last earthly abiding place. The king OF
| The land, the royal family, the nobility, the
renowned, walked after it. The banners
of mourning were waved and trumpe.s wall
ed, and ten thousand sobs broke alike from
stern and gentle breasts, and tears from the
eyes of warriors as we'll as lovely women
showcred like rain. 1t was the funeral Of
Bertel Thorvaldsen, with the Danish nation
for mourners! And she, the old woman
who gazed at it as it slowly wound by
she was Amalie, his frs, love Thorvald-
sen had never married, neither had she.
"Ah, Himlen" murmured the old woman,
wl2ng away tears from source which for
many long years had been dry, show mar
velfous is the will Of God To think that
| should live TO behold this sight Poor,
poor Berlel! All that | predicted, came to
pass; but, ah me who knows whether you
might not have enjoyed happier life, after
all, had you stayed with your old father and
mother, and married me? All, Himlen,
there's only one can tell Poor Ber,el ="
Four years more sped, and one fine Sab
hail n,crDipu auo1 opd Iooropit 10
painfully dragged her weary limbs through
the crowded lower rooms of .ha, wondrous
building known as ThorvaIdsen's Museum
She paused not 10 glance al the ma,chless
works Of the sculptor, but crept onward
until she reached an open doorway leading
into The inner quadrangle, in the centre Of
which low tomb of grey marble encloses
the mortal remains of him whose hand Gre
a,ed the works which ell the edlfice. Step
| by step she drew close to the tomb, and
sank on the pavemen. by its side. Then
she laid down her cru.ch, and pressed her
| bony hands tightly over her skinny brow.
"Ja: ja" murmured she ",hey told me he
lay here, and prayed to God to grant me
strength to crawl TO the spo,-and He heard
me. Ah, Himlem, can die happy now %
| She withdrew her hands, and peered a,
the simple but all-comprehensive inscription
of "BerseI Thorvaldsen," deep Gu. on the
side Of the tomb. Then she raised her
forefnger, and earnestly traced with it every
letter TO the end. Smiling feebly, she lie,
fall her hand, and complacenlly sighed
while an evanescen, gleam of subtle emo.
tion lighted up her lineamen,s. '''Tis true:
he moulders here. Poor Bertel, we shal
meet sgain-ln heavenn'
), Her ey closed, and her head slowly sank
, on her breast, in which attitude she remain
ed until one Of the officers Of the museum
who had noticed her singular behaviour