Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1852-12-08


ty, while at its base murmurs gentle riVu
let of cold pure water, dancing ID the light
of morning. By its side rises an aged beach,
spreading its branches far and wide, forming
an arbour impenetrable to the rays of the
sun, and its moss covered roots afford a
couch, where the pampered gourm might
stretch his useless limbs, and feel no care; or
where Diana herself might repose after the
fatigue of the chase. In truth it was a love
ly place, blessed by Nature and adorned
with pleasing scenery. Fronting this hill
rose the house Of DIR. BuVilliers, with itsI
yard tastefully laid ont in squares, and rec
tangles, filed with shrubbery and flowers,
emitting their fragrance in the balHy bracilg
air. Gilbert Avery and Mary Buvilliers
were strolling along the walks of the garden,
plucking occasionally some fair flower and
forming them into boquets. They continued
their promenade till they had gained the
stream, and aged beech. when Avery gal
lantly seated her on the messy couch, then
sat down by her side.
What beautiful spot, Miss Mary! Ma
ture has decked it with romantic scenery
9 1t is quite beautiful
Listen how joyously the birds are car
rolling their morning lay, and the fishes
glance in the light in yon water! Oh, ii is
place for holy thoug ght ! Quite poetical.
Do you write poetry?'
Seldom. | think have no poetic fire
in me.
No poetic fire! Why, that noble fore
head Of yours looks like the temple of the
Muses., the home Of evrything great and
good
You mistake me, I think l will not say
fatter'
Permit me to suggest that true wisdom
and greatness is always modest and retiring J
After pause, ne continued
My friend, Frank Mclean informs me
that our old friend, Clinton Howard is sue
ceeding handsomely in Texas
| am rejoiced to hear of this good for
tune. By the way, Mr.. Avery, I never re-
ceived an answer to that letter you carried
for me to the Post Office
Here Avery's countenance tnrned red as
he strove to speak. Regaining himself, he
murmured,-
He cannot find time, suppose, among
his new friends, to remember his old ones.
Distance you know produces forgetfullness.
beg leave to dissent. We never know
the value Of an object till it is withdrawn
from u.s.
There beg leave to make some exeep-
tions. There are some objects that | con,
slider Of infinite worth, both present and alb
sent. If your theory were true, in every
particular, it were better to have our love;
object always absent
By no means Their presence fills III
with pleasure, but by their absence we ex
) perience pain, and by this pain we estimate
, the amount of pleasure we derived from
} them, and thus their value.
: You reason close, and you will excuse
me if I make a practical application Of you
| argument. There is an object in the worlc
dearer to me than all else beside, in who's
presence I am blessed, in whose absence
am miserable. desire this dear object al
: ways with HE, to bless and smile upon me
!, and make me the happiest of mortals. Wi
| you not be mine, now and forever?
> am sorry to disappoint your expecfe
: tions, but my heart bids me do it. l ca
not be yours.
S oh. be not cruel Crush not the hear
: that lives in your smiles Spurn not til
being that is miserable without you. Do nc
' curse me by not loving me. Say not thu
v you love another. But I will give 20
e time to reflect. How long shall it be?
ask no time. My decision is made
:. | do not love, and to marry without low
# would be curse to you and me-
o May l not hope that time might chang
l your mind that might still anticipa
Is some future success :?
:: Never!
< I have some news that night chan!
le your mind. Know then, that Clinton Ho7
7e ard, your lover, as | once believed, is nc
engaged, if not married. to lady of Texa
: He has proved unfaithful, if my surmis
were true, and you are free to engage
S, whom you will. This was said in som
er what disdainful tone, and the cheeks of ii
gentle Mary were as pale as death. II
ly lips qulvered, and she was near fainting Z
- der the load, but true to her nature, S
If, strove to conceal her affections, and so
Ill the blood returned and she replied wi
forced calmness,-
IA Sir, your news can work no change
me; and you will suffer me to rectify m
IS. take of yours. Mr.. Howard has been
on friend to our family for years. The let
that received from him, according to
Id promise, was nothing more than letter
friendship. l answered it as such, and J
carried it to the post Office. But sir, this
SO terview has been too long. Let it teri
nate
me She arose and he accompanied her to
all house. As he rode away Mary retired
her boudoir, and there, for the first, her tie
St began to flow. The pent up waters of
lps soul broke loose, as alone she remember
that her friend, the only being she 10y
with such ardent affection, loved her not
return. She felt assured that he once lo7
ay, her, aud that she loved him, yet perhaps
cd, had alierated him by her coldness.
ID though ht was too much for her aud she S
cen beneath it. She was i'll the remainder
,es, the day, but on the next she arose, thol
al IL