Lewisburg chronicle. [volume] (Lewisburg, Pa.) 1850-1859, 1852-11-05

r ter, and yet softer, warmer glow than al
:, the stars; for there was kind and pur
= soul beanling upon him from her eyes Will
radiance that shamed the pale stars. Il
I; her speech was the gorgeous imagery o
. the poet, and yet the simple fraskness o
n the child's heart 1t thrilled him nov
r like the roaring of mountain avalanche
in the storm, and now soothcd him lik,
the gentle murmuring Of a little rivulet il
the valley of his boyhood. Her words fcl
on his heart like the dew on the witherins
flowcr-likc the voice of friendship on th<
ear of the long-lost stranger. They knel'
down together on the messy ground, and
as he clasped her hands in his, raised hand,
and eyes and heart to heaven, and prayed
to the great and good All-Father that they
might never be less happy than then. He
reached to press the ansel-sistcr to his bo.
som, but she had hed-the vision had van,
ished as he awoke.
From this time Edgar's whole life be-
came dream, and he lived only in the
search for the spirit Of his fantasy. True,
he still searched for hidden lore in the
great black-lctter books of bygone ages,
but his passion was for the realization of
his dream. lie next met me in the city,
and | thought he had again seen his guar
dian spirit He had heard and seen one
who was idolized as the spirit Of song, and
believed she was the being of his dream.
He was entranced with her melody, and
worshipped her as the divinity of his dawn
ing day of gladness. The world, too, wor-
shipped her as the genius Of music; and
her melody charmed many an evil spirit
from wickodness, and lighted the load of
many heart that before was as miserable
as a lost-soul. Her singing was such that
it seemed the only thing on earth which,
while every one praised it, no one dared
envy it.
But in time Edgar came to know his
charmer better, and found that her tongue |
was only an artful one; and though her
lips were sweet, her heart was filed with
bitterness. Her song was learnt-not felt.
The Siren was cunning woman, and not
the good sister of angels. In sadness Ed
gar turned again to his books and his
thoughts.
One day he read the poem of gifted
and became enrapturcd
when he found the spirit of his lost vision
brcathed from the pages. Here then was
the realization of his dream These were
her words, for thus had she spoken to him
n the ramblc of the memorable dream
md he read again aud again with new as
,urance, new hope and new recognition.
At lcnsth he would meet the being of his {
prophecy, and his life should be henceforth
| holiday of sunshine aud smiles. He Wis /
ted the home Of the authoress, and though |
,c found her lady of brillianA genius, he ,
aw at once that she was not the authoress 7
# the poem he had read. 4 friend told I
lin the secret that the poem was written a
" a younger sister, and she was--in heav- @
a. And so the dream was yet dream. f
And now Edgar went to Europe, for his C
ailins health warned him to leave his
ooks. One morning at Rome there came h
0 him young fowergir of most won {
rous loveliness, and in the sweetest voice t
sked him to buy nosegay. lie gave her h
piece of money, took her flowers; and E
er eyes frightened up as she tripped along "
he marble pavement with lighter step. o
Ic1t morniug she came again with fresh h
osegays, and again went off with merry {
cart. In the evening Edgar went into Il
little chapel, and among the many who b
anne to vespers was the fower-girl. BY \
he dim religious light of the chapel her ii
eauty impressed Edgar as if the spirit Of
is dream had returned. Yes, it was the S
,mc! And he doubted no longer when ST
or voice joined in the lie deum, for only n
nc seraph of his dream could have such a Il
oicc. He learned more of young Agnes h
ext day. She was of a noble Roman re
lmly that was now stricken to decay by it
,veriy. Her parents were old and fee re
le, and lived in the ruins of palace that Je
as failing and falling like themselves &C
he generous girl had become menal, "
nd sold flowers now on the public high b,
ay to serve and save her parents. Edgar in
ter visited the old ruins, and every time th
und new charms in Agnes. Her skin W
as as fair as the purest marble, her form m
Guided like the perfect statue Of the Vir- VI
n, and the soul that smiled kindly from an
1t her dark eyes, seemed ft tenant for
fair tomple. 1a Y
But the gift of beauty is dangerous rO
ing, and Rome is a wonderful place. to
nd now there came dark whispers that re'
gues was Countess, and bad when very tn,
Jung been welded to wealthy Count wi